#every fact i learn about phantoms in book six just gives me more and more ideas >_< | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

Text

More than Enough

For @tma-mspec-week Day Three: Polycule

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Sasha James/Tim Stoker/Martin Blackwood

Rating: Teen

Summary:

“But what if-” Once again, Jon struggles to find the right words. He knows their situation is unorthodox to most people, and the thought of Martin looking at him differently is too much to bear. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“Then explain it to him,” Sasha relays patiently, her hand never leaving his. Things are always so clear to her, Jon envies that. “You’re my partners, you’re dating Tim, sometimes me and Tim have-”

Or: How One Became Four.

It starts with Sasha and Jon.

She’s fresh off six months in Artefact Storage, shell-shocked and stand-offish. Jon starts a few months later and they learn the ropes together. She warms up, divulges little tidbits of her time in the other department that Jon devours. He’s young, hungry for answers and Sasha’s already jaded by her few years in academia. This is just a transitional job, she assures him. It pays better than most research gigs and allows her to keep up a certain lifestyle.

“I’m looking at other places, putting out feelers,” she confides in him one day over coffee. It’s become their daily ritual, a mid-morning break where they can commiserate on the staid academics that ask too much of them and the fanciful statements that end up on their desk. “Whatever you do, don’t get stuck here.” She leans back in her chair, gives a cynical little smile. “Or maybe you should. It’ll be different for you, you’re a man.” He starts a protest but she cuts him off. “It’s an old boys club and you know it. Besides, I know all about your extra meetings with Bouchard. He’s never done that with anyone else. Who knows - in a few years you might be my boss!”

He scoffs at that. Jon feels like he’s treading water. He’s a great researcher, sure, but he hasn’t exactly made himself popular among the others. He’s quick to bite, dismissive, blunt. It’s why he and Sasha get along so well, tucked away in their own little world. Of course she would notice the attention from Elias; Jon’s flattered by it, even if he stammers his way through every interaction. Elias seems to find this amusing, but Jon wants to impress him.

Though not at the cost of his friendship with Sasha. “I always mention your work to him. I’m rubbish with technology, but you-” She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t, he’ll see right through that. Manipulation’s not your strong suit.” Jon stares down at his rapidly cooling drink, an embarrassed flush spreading across his features. But her hand reaches out to grasp his and a fond smile lights her features. “Thank you, though. It’s sweet of you.”

Jon likes Sasha. Their personalities occasionally clash, but never for too long. Jon’s quick to forgive and Sasha’s too fond to hold a grudge, though she’s loath to admit it. So when her roommate suddenly moves out and she’s left in a bind, it’s only natural for Jon to take her place. He’s been rent-poor, living paycheck to paycheck in a shitty studio that’s still an hour’s commute. Sasha’s closer and her flat’s substantially nicer; she offers and he accepts, easy as that. It’s a practical move, and Jon has to admit his lonely little flat is starting to feel suffocating.

They fit together easily, like pieces of puzzle slotting in place. Sasha’s brutally efficient in her personal matters; bills and maintenance that Jon finds overwhelming and confounding she takes care of with ease. He’s heard her on the phone in that light, practiced tone of hers as she casually threatens the landlord for necessary repairs. Jon finds himself relaxing bit by bit, feeling comfortable in his own skin as she snarks at the dinner table over a dish he’s made. He used to cook for Georgie like this. Now he cooks for Sasha.

“You’re good at this,” she comments one night over chana masala. “Loads better than the frozen meals I’m used to.”

“It’s nice, having someone to cook for. Harder to do it for one.” He feels a bit uncomfortable with the admission, though he knows he shouldn’t - this is what it’s like, when you love someone.

He’s never said that to her, of course. He gets attached too easily but never knows quite how to show it. And it’s not his usual sort of love, he doesn’t want to date her. She’s more than a friend, and Jon’s never had many of those; he has no metric to measure this against. He thinks he could stay in this flat with her forever, so long as he could see her smile every morning and yawn every night.

On a Saturday morning she stumbles out of bed and makes her way over to the kitchen. “Morning,” she grumbles, as she reaches for the coffee pot and kisses his forehead. Jon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

On a Wednesday night Jon drinks too much.

“Sasha,” he slurs, her arm the only thing keeping him from falling off his stool. “I want you t’ know…”

She smiles indulgently, takes a sip of her drink. “Yes, dear?”

“I-I love you.” She pauses and Jon’s heart drops. “N-Not like that, but like friends. Good friends. Very good friends. But m-maybe not.” She’s still smiling, that’s got to be a good sign, right? “I-I just love you, okay?”

And then she laughs, puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close. “I love you too. Stay with me forever, okay?”

He takes her hand between his and promises, with all the solemnity a drunken man can muster, that he’ll stay with her forever and then some. The next morning, while they’re both nursing massive hangovers, Jon broaches the subject again.

“Did you mean it?” he asks tentatively, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “What you said last night. Do- do you want me to stay forever?” She turns to look at him, bleary eyes suddenly alert.

“Yes.” There’s no tease in her words as she leans into his side, a warm weight on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more.”

Jon stays.

______

Two years later, Tim joins the Institute.

He’s handsome; charming, but subdued. He’s been assigned a desk near theirs, invading the quiet little corner that had become their world. Tim greets them both with a smile and a perfunctory handshake before settling down at his desk and powering up his laptop. He doesn’t speak to them again.

Jon watches as he goes back and forth between circulation and his desk, building an impressive stack of books- The Pantomime Life of Joseph Grimaldi, The Congress of Clowns and Other Russian Circus Acts. Sasha told him he worked in publishing, Jon knows she got that information through her usual nefarious means. Perhaps he’s writing a book, Jon says. Sasha thinks otherwise.

“He’s one of those,” she says over sandwiches and tea. She invited Tim, but had been turned down with an apologetic smile.

“Hmm?”

“Like you.” She sets her drink down, eyes him with her steady gaze. “He’s got a reason.”

Mr. Spider doesn’t like it.

Jon shivers at the reminder. Sasha never brought it up after he initially confided in her one vulnerable night last year; she just held him through the shaking and the tears. He’s only told the story twice; once at eight, again at twenty five. It never got easier.

“No one believed me,” he whispered, tucking his face into her shoulder as his body itched from phantom legs skittering across skin. She squeezed him back.

“I do.”

They’re friendly enough to Tim, giving him his distance while still trying to be helpful. Jon points him in the direction of texts and scholars who might be useful, Sasha teaches him a few of her more invasive tricks that Jon refused to learn. Slowly, bit by bit, he opens up. Never shares his story, no- but he smiles, jokes around with them, accompanies them on their lunch breaks and eventually entices them to after work drinks.

He’s handsome when he smiles, Jon thinks to himself as Tim regales them with stories of dates gone wrong. Sasha catches his eye and winks. He wonders if she’ll tire of Jon now that Tim’s around. He’s everything Jon’s not; good-looking, confident, secure in his intelligence. Sasha laughs so freely around him. He could ground her where Jon cannot- they can be a chaotic force, the two of them. It’s why they keep to themselves.

But at the end of the night it’s Jon’s hand she takes, swinging it gently with hers. “Stay with me forever?”

He smiles. “Forever.”

They invite him over to their flat one night in spring, when the trees are blossoming and Jon’s allergies are acting up. He’s sniffling miserably on the couch, Tim sprawled next to him as Sasha pours some wine. Despite his misery, Jon’s content.

Tim nudges him with his foot. “So what’s your deal?” he asks in a wheedling tone, though his smirk betrays an almost imperceptible anxiety. It’s strange. “You and Sash. Dating, roomies…?”

It’s Sasha who answers, handing Jon a glass of wine and standing before Tim, tall and proud. “Jon’s my partner.” It’s matter of fact, and Jon can’t help the warmth that floods him. “We’re not dating. I’m not interested in that.” She hands him his glass with a smirk. “But if you want to romance Jon, feel free.”

Jon sputters as she laughs- he’s transparent, as usual. They’d talked about it briefly- Sasha’s fine with him dating other people, but Jon’s never felt the need to. Sasha’s enough. She still is, but he can’t deny the way his heart swoops whenever Tim aims that smile in his direction. Sasha likes him too, in her own way.

Tim’s still gaping at them and Jon can’t help but join in on the laughter, as embarrassed as he feels. “Is the great Timothy Stoker nervous?” Sasha says in between giggles. “Guess we know how to shut him up now.”

“L-Look, can you blame me?” Tim says, a smile growing on his face. “You two can be very intimidating, not to mention gorgeous-”

Jon kicks at his leg. “Don’t joke.”

“No, we are.” Sasha interrupts, daring him to disagree. She turns that deadly smile back on Tim, delighting in his falter. “So what’ll it be, Stoker?”

There’s silence, Jon can feel his heart racing. They’ve got this all wrong, Tim doesn’t want him, Tim’s going to leave, Tim doesn’t understand-

“Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

Jon blinks. “Uh, yes?”

“He likes Thai!” Sasha calls as she walks over to her bedroom, leaving the two of them on the couch, laughing nervously.

“So you’re bi, then?” Tim asks, scooting closer to Jon and throwing a blanket over their legs and an arm around his shoulder. It’s warm in all the right ways and Jon leans closer, the awkwardness dissipating at the touch of his hand.

“I prefer pan,” he replies. It’s the first term that felt right to him. Georgie used to make some stupid joke about a ‘gender buffet’ and him ‘having one of everything.’ It still makes him smile. “And- and you should know I’m also ace. So there’s some things I won’t be able to do for you.” He looks for disappointment in Tim’s eyes and finds none. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course.” Tim smiles like he means the words and Jon feels light, almost dizzy. “Are kisses alright?”

He nods shyly, and Tim takes this as his cue to pepper him in obnoxiously loud smooches- one in his hair, another on his nose. Jon manages to bat him away after Tim almost gets him in the eye.

So Tim and Jon are dating. Tim takes him out to dinner, the movies, one memorable night of karaoke. Sasha joins in when she wants; they go to museums and lectures. One night she laces her fingers through Tim’s, smiling at his wide eyes.

“What?” she says innocently, doing the same with Jon. “I’ve got two hands.”

On Wednesday nights Tim goes to the gym. Jon sits at the table, passes Sasha a bowl of reheated spaghetti before settling down in his chair. He fidgets, not touching his fork.

“What is it?” Sasha asks, setting her own fork down. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“I-” he stutters, sighing as the words won’t come. Just tell her like you practiced. “I’m not trying to, well- hmm. I don’t want to insinuate anything-”

“You would never.”

“But, I’ve noticed- I’m not- Tim is very handsome.”

Sasha smiles indulgently. “Mhm. Go on.”

“And I’ve noticed. I don’t- if you wanted to-” Goddamnit. Pull yourself together. “I wouldn’t mind it, if you were to - that is, if you’d like to engage in-” He closes his eyes, purses his lips in frustration. “Please stop me.”

“Why Jon,” she replies, her voice coy and teasing. “Are you giving me your blessing?”

Jon sighs, his face warming as he opens one eye- she’s grinning, just as he expected. “...Yes?”

Six months later, Tim moves in.

_______

“Jon wants to bring a boy home!”

Jon smacks him in the arm and scowls. “Tim, don’t-”

“What, it’s true!” He leans back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Jon wants to knock the smile off his face and maybe onto the floor, if he can get a good kick in. “I don’t blame you and in fact, I encourage it. Martin’s a catch-”

“Martin?” Sasha perks up. “Finally!”

“Not you too-”

“Jon, he’s a very sweet boy-”

“-good-looking, too!”

“And if you want to bring him over, please do.” She reaches across the table to give his hand an encouraging, if condescending, squeeze. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to go into that much detail just yet,” Jon cuts her off, ignoring Tim’s snicker. “It’s just...what if he thinks it's weird?”

“Weird can be good. And if he doesn’t agree, well - he’s not worth your time.”

If only it were that simple.

It’s been about three months since he first ran into Martin in the break room. He’d seen him around plenty of times, but despite his hulking form, the man can make himself very, very small. It wasn’t until he quite literally ran into him, causing him to drop his newly organized files, that Jon got a good look at his face.

It was a nice face. Soft, kind, with big blue eyes and curly red hair that fell across his forehead. He wanted to touch it, tuck it behind Martin’s ear and he almost did, despite the man’s rambling apologies and meek demeanor. He stood there, frozen, even as Martin handed back the file with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I’m pretty clumsy. Are you alright?”

Jon was fine. He should probably say that.

“Y-Yes. I’m Jon.” Wow. Smooth.

“I know.” Martin put a hand behind his neck, nervously chuckling. “You’re quite known around these parts.” His eyes widened and his face turned red. A nice red. “N-Not in a bad way, of course! You’re- you’re just very smart and- and direct- and oh Lord, that’s not a compliment, is it-”

“Thank you for my file,” Jon replied robotically, his eyes trained somewhere over Martin’s shoulder and not on his very, very blue eyes. “I have to take my leave now.” Why are you talking like this?

Their next few encounters were similarly stunted and awkward. Martin made tea at ten every morning, coincidentally when Jon got his yogurt from the fridge. He started making Jon a cup as well; he wasn’t sure if Martin was particularly excellent at making tea, or if it just mattered that he was the one making it. Jon tried not to dwell on the sentimentality of it all.

He shouldn’t want another partner. He’s got Sasha, who he loves, and Tim, who he also loves, albeit in a different way. They should be enough for him. They are enough. But Martin makes him tea and asks him how his day is going and smiles at him and people don’t do that. He tells himself he just wants a friend, but he finds his mind wandering- Martin’s hand in his while they walk down the street, Jon nestled into his side on a movie night and Tim’s there too, because Martin is very comfy and handsome and warm. Sasha’s in her armchair reading a book because tonight they’re watching a romantic comedy and she hates those. Jon hates them too but Martin likes them, of course Martin likes them-

No. He’s getting distracted. And he’s standing in front of Martin like an idiot, saying nothing. This is going terribly. Why did he ever think this would not go terribly-

“Jon? Are you alright? You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

“I’m not having a stroke,” Jon responds on auto-pilot. “I’m trying to think of a clever way to ask you out but you are very distracting.”

Shit. Martin stares at him, mouth open in shock. He’s got nice teeth. Very straight.

“Um- I-I thought you were with Tim?” Martin squeaks out. Oh God, I’ve scared him. Do I keep going? “Or- or Sasha, oh! I’m not accusing you of -”

“No, you’re correct,” Jon grinds out, willing himself to be calm. He doesn’t want Martin to think his frustration is aimed at him. “Sasha’s my partner and I’m dating Tim, and sometimes Sasha and Tim-” No! Abort! “-sorry. We’re together. But, um, I-I also like you, and I think Tim likes you but he hasn’t said- I’m sorry, this is going all wrong.” He looks down at the floor, clenching his jaw. “I understand if you say no.”

“I’m not saying no,” Martin’s voice is lower now and Jon feels a hope rise in his chest. He’s not? “So it’s, it’s like an open thing? You’re accepting applications?” Jon would laugh at the joke if he weren’t so paralyzed with fear.

“Not really? It’s, we aren’t dating around or anything, but I suppose it is open, in a way.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “Open for you.”

Martin’s smiling like he can’t believe his luck, and it confuses Jon because who wouldn’t want him? Kind, handsome Martin who makes him tea and doesn’t laugh at his stupid jokes but rolls his eyes affectionately and tells his own in turn. Jon doesn’t think he’ll ever understand his humor but it makes him smile and that’s important. And now Martin’s taking his hand and he- oh fuck Martin’s taking his hand Martin’s got his hand and it’s warm, just like he knew it would be-

“I-I think I’d like that.” A squeeze. Jon dies but only a little. “Wow, this is sort of crazy for me, y’know? You’re all so, so intimidating and good-looking-”

“Yes, we are,” Jon agrees, squeezing his hand back. “But we’d like to buy you dinner, if you’re amenable.” Martin laughs and says yes, he’s very, very amenable. It feels right holding Martin’s hand. It feels right to see him with Tim and Sasha, smiling and joking. It feels right to lean into him at the end of the day, to nudge his side in the night and apologize in the morning.

Martin’s lease expires in seven months. They start looking for a new apartment after three.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032062

#tma #the magnus archives #tma mspec week #jonmartimsasha #archive polycule before there's an archive #jonsasha #jontim #jonmartin #timsasha #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #jon is pan #tim is bi #sasha is aro

426 notes · View notes

gaemkyuu · 4 years ago

Text

Mommy, Can We Keep Him? (Charlie Gillespie x Original Character

Warnings: mention of teenage pregnancy A/N: I was inspired to write a character like Lilo from Lilo and Stitch and thought of what if Charlie had a daughter like that? Then I thought about Dad! Charlie.... Here is my inspired writing piece! Let me know if you want a follow up wedding piece! Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Mommy, Can We Keep Him? (Charlie Gillespie x Original Character)

Riley King started working for Netflix when she was 18 and impressed everyone at the head office with her hard work and dedication. With her motivation and work ethic, she managed to climb her way to be part of the executive management team all at the ripe age of 21. People often asked Riley how she climbed the ladder so quickly, or what was the secret to her success. No one ever guessed that her motivation came from a little girl who looked exactly like her.

Emerson Gianna King was born on August 31st of 2014 when Riley was 16 years old. She had quite the wild nature to herself, always sneaking out and illegally partying with her friends. It was only a matter of time that she would be blinded by love and give her virginity to a boy she swore would get married. He was 17 at the time and she was head over heels for him. One drink too many and a poor judgement call resulted in Riley’s teenage pregnancy.

Her one true love broke up with her a week after they had had sex, stating that his dad had had gotten a job at a law firm in Miami and that a long distance relationship wouldn’t work. She didn’t know that she was pregnant at the time, but when she did, she tried to reach out to him. His family thought it was stupid attempt at getting back together and claimed that the baby wasn’t his. They were ready to launch a full lawsuit in order to protect their family’s reputation, something that Riley and her single mom couldn’t afford to do. So they dropped it, signing legal papers that they would never contact them again and that their son wasn’t responsible for paying any child support.

This heartbreak and her daughter made Riley clean up her act and graduate high school a year ahead of her friends. She quickly started working for various companies, taking night classes at the local college campus in hopes to get her foot in the door for a bigger company and work her way up. Which is exactly what she did and how she ended up working for Netflix. That’s how she met Kenny Ortega, who introduced her to the actors of Julie and the Phantoms. She mostly worked with Netflix, but she was assigned to be there every day of boot camp to watch and monitor the development of the TV show, making projections about how their viewers would receive the new show. She didn’t anticipate to be a part of the small family that was created behind the scene with the cast and crew, and she certainly didn’t anticipate falling for one of the lead actors Charlie Gillespie.

They had been dating for three months before Riley told him about Emmerson. She had expected that he call off the entire relationship, understanding that not everyone wanted to be with someone who had a baby at sixteen. They were 22 at the time and Riley explained that she was looking to be in a serious relationship for her daughter’s sake. While Charlie couldn’t promise that this relationship would go in the direction they both wanted, he did promise that he would do his best to be there for her. He didn’t know that winning over the little girl’s heart would prove to be difficult.

Emerson wasn’t like all the other kids. For one thing, she was very mature for her age. She was potty trained at two years old and started to learn how to read basic books at the age of 4. She developed her speech quickly and often looked to use specific words that kids her age rarely heard or understand. She was a perceptive little girl and sometimes she was a little too smart and observant for her own good. This made it difficult for her to make friends at daycare because everyone thought she was weird. Riley would often catch her talking to Lilo whenever she put Lilo and Stitch on for her to watch. She would tell Lilo about the frustrating girls at her daycare and how they too “need to be punished”.

So it was no surprise to her that when Emerson first met Charlie, she would be grilling him. Charlie had expected her to be a cute little girl that likes to play with dolls. Instead, he was met with a perceptive toddler that made him question his own intelligence at times. She was very standoffish when she met him, afraid that this man was going to hurt her mommy, but over time Emerson began to open up and trust Charlie. One night, when they were six months into dating, they had to cancel their dinner plans as Riley’s babysitter came down with a flu and no one else could babysit. Therefore, their dinner plans were changed to ordering pizza and having a movie night with Emerson. Riley groaned partly through the beginning of Lilo and Stitch when her work called, excusing herself as it was an important phone call.

This left Emerson and Charlie alone for the first time.

“Charlie, who’s Elvis Presley?” Charlie’s eyes grew big like teacup saucers.

“Your mom hasn’t shown you who Elvis Presley is?! How many times have you watched this movie?!” Emerson shrugged, not taking her eyes off the screen, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth and chewing.

“Do you want the real answer?” he was caught off guard at the frankness in her tone, starting to wonder just how many times she had watched the film. He shrugged it off and paused the movie, pulling his phone out and opening Youtube to educate the child on the legend, Elvis Presley.

When Riley returned to the living room, she was shocked to see Emerson sitting in Charlie’s lap, holding the phone, staring intently at the screen and listening to the music that played out of the speaker. She had never seen her daughter so focused before. She looked at Charlie who was equally focused on the screen of the phone as well, and she smiled to herself enjoying the view. Out of defense, Riley quickly shrugged off the creeping thought that this could be her family. After all, her and Charlie had only been dating for 6 months.

“How have you not shown her who Elvis Presley is?” he exclaimed, noticing her presence. Emerson looked at her with questioning eyes as well, feeling slightly betrayed that her mother withheld such precious information away from her.

“I’m not really a big music person! I kinda just listen to songs I like rather than musicians” she shrugged sheepishly.

“Mommy, Charlie said there’s a documentary on Netflix about Elvis Presley. Can we watch that instead of Lilo and Stitch?” Riley’s jaw dropped at the fact that her daughter was more interested in watching something other than her favorite comfort Disney movie. She silently nodded and changed the settings on the TV, starting the Elvis Presley documentary. This was the first time her daughter ever really opened up to someone and found something in common.

Emerson absolutely loved the documentary and would go on for weeks listening to Elvis Presley nonstop. After Riley waved goodbye to Charlie and closed the door, Emerson sat patiently on the entryway bench for her mother.

“Mommy, can we keep him?”

“Yeah, Emmy. I think we can”

***

It soon became a regular thing to have Charlie stay the night at Riley’s house. He woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, but on his way back to the bedroom he heard soft whimpers and sniffles coming from Emerson’s bedroom. He stood outside her door, debating if he should go get Riley or if he should go in himself. He knew Riley was exhausted having had a full day of work and meetings, so he opted to let her sleep and peek into Emerson’s room. He thought that if it was out of his control, he could always go and get her. The sight of the little girl broke his heart.

Emerson was fast asleep, but she was trembling and clutching onto her stuffed bunny for dear life. She whimpered and tears fell from her closed eyes. Charlie quietly moved to her side and sat on her bed, softly rubbing her back, whispering her name to break her out of her nightmare. It worked, but when she woke up, she jumped into Charlie’s arms and softly cried. He was surprised at first, but quickly snapped out of it hugging the girl and rubbing her back.

“It’s okay Emmy... It was just a bad dream... It wasn’t real... you’re okay... you’re safe” the little girl started to calm down as Charlie soothed her and rocked her side to side a bit.

“They took me away from mommy...” she whimpered and nid her face in Charlie’s neck. He felt the collar of his shirt dampen as she cried, but he picked her up and moved to the armchair she had in her room. He sat down and held her tightly in his arms.

“No one is ever going to take you away from mommy, okay? I won’t let that happen” he didn’t know where these words were coming from or where he got the confidence to say them, but in that moment he knew that he would do whatever he could for Emerson.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” he whispered, kissing her head and rubbing her back. She settled comfortably in his chest and took deep breaths. Charlie instinctively started to hum a song softly as he rubbed her back, until her breathing steadied and soft snores came from the small figure. Charlie smiled to himself that he was able to handle the situation alone, but he realized he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to put her back in bed, or if he had to hold her for the rest of the night. Not wanting to wake her up, he carefully reached for the knitted quilt beside the armchair and draped it over them. Guess he was sleeping in the armchair that night. His neck would hate him in the morning.

Riley woke up early that morning when she rolled over to cuddle the missing Charlie. She bolted up and threw on her housecoat to search for him, but stopped when she noticed Emerson’s door cracked open. The sight inside the bedroom brought tears to her eyes and she covered her mouth to avoid making any sound that would wake them. There was Charlie sleeping in the armchair holding a sleeping Emerson in his arms. They were both fast asleep and quietly snoring.

For the first time, in their nine months of dating, Riley let herself see the possibility of Charlie being the man who could be Emerson’s dad.

***

Charlie fiddled with his collar nervously, holding flowers in the other hand. He took a deep breath and shook off his nerves before pressing on the door bell. He waited patiently and anxiously outside, only to be greeted by his beautiful girlfriend, Riley. She smiled brightly at him and he stood there blown away by her beauty. They were both dressed up semi-formally tonight as Charlie insisted on taking Riley out for a fancy dinner to recreate a cheesy romcom movie date for their anniversary. Their usual dates consisted of hiking or lounging at the beach, so Charlie figured it would be nice to dress up for once, especially since Riley rarely dressed fancy.

“Hey! Come on in, I’m just finishing up debriefing the babysitter” Charlie kissed her cheek quickly and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him as she rushed back to the kitchen. Charlie waited by the front door patiently for her to finish up.

“Where are you taking mommy tonight, Charlie?” he jumped at the voice from behind, turning around to see Emerson sitting on the entryway bench. She looked up at the man who waited for her mom, bunny beside her in one hand and her blanket in the other. Charlie smiled at her presence and squatted down to her level, petting her bunny on the head.

“I’m taking mommy on a fancy dinner. You off to bed?” she nodded and opened her arms, to which Charlie gladly received her hug, only, he didn’t expect her to awkwardly latch herself on to him. Thinking quickly, he adjusted himself and picked her up. She was short and thin, so it was no problem carrying her. Her small stature always made her mother worry that she wasn’t getting enough nutrients. “I guess I couldn’t let you sleep without some snuggles could I?” she nodded as she laid her head on his chest, something her and Charlie had in common was that their love language was physical touch.

“It’s nice to see mommy in something other than jeans or sweats. I like your bowtie too” Emerson fiddled with said bow tie as Charlie gently rocked her. He was always so surprised at how observant she was and how she was able to clearly articulate her thoughts for being six years old. She was very bright and quick to understand situations, which made it hard for her to make friends at daycare. Another thing that Riley worried about often.

“You want me to tuck you in Emmy?” she shook her head against his chest and wiggled, signifying that she was okay with being put down. Charlie obeyed her wish and set her down on the floor, sitting on the entryway bench like she once did. “You’re looking a little sleepy squirt” he chuckled, clearing the hair from her face.

“Mommy said the babysitter and I get to watch a movie of my choice before bed time since it’s Friday. I wanted to watch Big Daddy but mommy said the babysitter might question her parenting choices” he let out a big laugh and Emerson giggled back.

“Having fun you two?” Riley appeared in the entryway with the babysitter. Riley crouched down and opened her arms wide to hug Emerson. The little girl jumped into her mom’s arms, nearly knocking her to the floor. “Love you Emmy. Please listen to the babysitter and go to bed on time” Riley knew she wouldn’t put up a fuss, but she figured she would remind her anyways.

“Love you mommy” she smiled as she kissed her mom’s cheek and walked to Charlie. “Love you Charlie” she tiptoed so that she could reach the man’s cheek, who also gave her a big hug. “Don’t be out too late!” she called skipping into the living room, the babysitter following after. The couple stood in the entryway thinking about Emerson’s last remarks before disappearing.

“Ready to go, my love?” Charlie cleared his throat, opening the door and gesturing for Riley to go first. She playfully rolled her eyes and they stepped out of the house towards the vehicle. Emerson waved at them from the front window, and they waved back, until she couldn’t see them any more.

***

“Remind me again what time you fly in?” Riley wiped some of the water that splashed on her face as she washed the dishes. Like all mothers, she was multitasking. Cleaning the house for Emerson’s birthday and trying to figure out her schedule considering Charlie was flying in from Canada. Emerson sat at the kitchen table quietly coloring while her mother was on the phone.

“Don’t worry about picking me up. You already have so much to do! I’ll just get an uber to your place” Riley toweled off her hands and took Charlie off speaker phone, holding the phone to her ear. Despite dating for a year and a half, they hadn’t officially moved in together. Charlie still had his place with all of his things, but half of his stuff was at Riley’s. “Plus I don’t want Emmy catching on to my surprise for her.”

“Right. Okay, well I’ll keep the door unlocked, since we’re home all day. I gotta go though, I still have to call the bakery to set up a pick up time for her cake and cupcakes” the couple said their quick ‘I love yous’ while Emerson shouted hers from the kitchen. Riley took a moment to herself and sighed against the wall in the corridor. Between everything at work and Emerson’s birthday, she had quite a lot on her plate but she was relieved that Charlie was able to come home a little earlier to help her out. She straightened her spine and returned to the kitchen, kissing her daughter’s head. “Emmy, mommy has to jump on to a zoom meeting in the office, are you okay to color for 30 more minutes?”

“Mommy, when can I go on a date with Charlie?” her mother froze mid movement around the kitchen, the question catching her off guard. “I know we go on dates together, but you always look like you have way more fun when it’s just you and Charlie. I wanna have fun with Charlie too” she smiled at her daughter and sat down beside her.

“Well, why not ask Charlie on a date? You can make him a little card before he gets in tonight and while I do my meeting.” her eyes lit up at the suggestion and she quickly got to work, making her mother smile. Riley got up and headed to her office, not wanting to disturb the project her daughter had started.

Riley’s meeting lasted an hour, much to her displeasure, but it was a productive one. It worked out for Emerson as she had made an elaborate card to give Charlie when he came home that night. Riley helped her daughter take a bath and ordered Sugarfish for dinner, both of them anticipating the arrival of their favorite guy. As soon as Emerson heard the door creak open, she bolted for the entryway and jumped into Charlie’s awaiting arms. He peppered her face with kisses and tickled her until Riley came along, who he kissed deeply and earned a “yuck!” from Emerson. Their dinner arrived soon after Charlie’s arrival and they all sat around the dinner table, Emerson lost in Charlie’s stories of his hometown.

“Emmy, don’t you have something for Charlie?” she perked up remembering and clumsily got out of her chair, putting her chopsticks down to run to the office. She grabbed her card for Charlie and skipped back to the dining room, placing the card beside his bento box.

“Oh? What’s this Emmy? Can I open it?” she nodded her head enthusiastically and sat back in her place at the table. Charlie’s smile wavered as he read the card, feeling slightly emotional. On the front was a picture of the three of them and inside the card read:

Dear Charlie,

Will u go on a date with me?

Love, Emmy

Hearts, flowers and smiley faces decorated the inside of the card, but the text was written in big bold letters. He could tell a lot of effort went into making the card judging by all the neatly placed stickers and carefully drawn pictures and patterns. It still amazed him that for a six year old, turning seven, that she could write so neatly.

“Mommy helped me with some of the spelling, but I mostly did it myself” she smiled, anticipating his response. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful Emmy. I would love to go on a date with you” she clapped her hands and bounced in her seat, her reaction causing everyone at the table to smile and laugh. They continued to eat their dinner while planning things that they could do together, as Riley sat there watching and admiring the relationship that was unfolding before her eyes. How did she get so fortunate to find a man like Charlie?

***

Charlie ended up taking Emerson to Disneyland and even though Riley accompanied them, Charlie and her went on all the rides together. Riley took pictures and held onto their things as the two enjoyed themselves around the theme park. Charlie knew it would be a good thing to have Riley around because she was the voice of reason when Emerson and Charlie thought of having their third Dole Whip of the day. The two of them laughed and had the time of their lives. When supper time came, Riley planned to meet a client over super at downtown Disney, planning on meeting her boyfriend and daughter later on in the evening. This left the two of them to have dinner with Goofy at Goofy’s Kitchen.

As they enjoyed each other’s company and visits from Goofy, Charlie helped Emerson pick out her dinner and order it. Charlie could honestly say this was the most fun that he had had in a long time, but he should’ve known that with Emerson’s intelligence, there was more to this date than just having fun.

“Charlie, when are you going to ask mommy to marry you?” Charlie choked on his water, not expecting the question from the curious little girl. “Mommy said I wasn’t allowed to ask you because it was rude”

“Not rude at all Emmy, but why are you asking me that?” he was genuinely curious, thinking that maybe Riley had been venting to her subconsciously again, or that Emerson overheard a conversation with one of her friends.

“I heard Aunty Savannah teasing her the other day over the phone and mommy got really red in the face. I think you should ask her, I know she’d say yes” Charlie’s eyes grew wide as Emerson nonchalantly recounted the conversation her mother had the other day. Emerson continued to color in the coloring book Charlie bought her earlier.

“Do you want me to ask mommy to marry me?” Emerson nodded her head as soon as the question came out of his mouth. “How come?” the question was meant to be playful, but Emerson’s reply was serious.

“Because I want to be able to call you daddy.”

Charlie felt a lump in his throat.

“I’ve never had a daddy. It’s always been mommy and me. If you marry mommy, then you can be my daddy.” she paused to take a sip of her juice. “I think you’d make a great daddy”.

Charlie wiped away a tear that threatened to fall from his eyes and cleared his throat, feeling emotional. He took a sip from his water and took a deep breath. “You think so, Emmy?”

She nodded her head, continuing to color in her book. “Plus Justina at daycare said that in order for me to have a little brother or a little sister, you have to have a daddy AND a mommy.” Charlie chuckled at the little girl, and got up to kiss her on the head, hugging her too.

“Got any ideas on how I should ask Mommy to marry me?” Emerson forgot about her coloring in that moment as her eyes sparkled with excitement over Charlie’s question.

“Well...I have a couple ideas...”

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines #imagine #fanfiction

190 notes · View notes

beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years ago

Text

B2:S - Chapter 3

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be Lujanne, Callum, Rayla, Ezran, Bait, and Soren goodness!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

Lujanne having excellent fitness for all her walking around the Moon Nexus, and she's so energetic that Callum has trouble keeping up with her! She seems like those active grandmas who almost never stop moving, who have a lifelong supply of endless stamina. It makes me wonder if Lujanne will need that level of fitness for some upcoming conflict.

Callum feeling really hungry over not eating grubs and then still deciding he'd rather be hungry. It makes me wonder all over again how Lujanne got to the point where she eats grubs, considering that other Moonshadow elves we know of back in the Silvergrove don't. I still love my hc that the giant leech ate all of Lujanne's moonberry bushes and she's taking her revenge. Whatever's going on there, Callum is definitely not at that point yet.

When Lujanne asks Callum how he knows she's real, he thinks to himself that he'd put up with just about anything from someone who was going to teach him magic. That's a great parallel and foreshadowing for Viren's student/master relationship with Aaravos! And it's telling that neither student gets exactly what they hoped to get. Lujanne doesn't actively teach Callum any spells, because she believes he can't learn Moon magic at all. Aaravos does offer Viren power, but it takes him to some very dark places - literally and figuratively - and the cost is terribly high.

Callum sees a moon shape among the ruins, and Lujanne explains that the Moonhenge layout is an intricate rune that uses the structures themselves as part of its symbols and power. That's apparently a thing even with ordinary Moonshadow villages like Hollow Wood in the east, which is the coolest idea I've seen in a while: city planning as magic runes!

Yes, that's the same shape as the pendants Ethari made for himself and Runaan. Protection? Home? Feelsiness? A sense of safety and belongnig for all cycles and seasons?

Wonder what this Moonhenge rune stands for, then, and how much of this landscape is included in that rune. I bet it's more than we think!

But it makes sense now, how toppling the stone pillars would disable the spell the druids would cast to connect with the Moon Nexus lake. Breaking the infrastructure of the Moonhenge breaks the rune.

There's a physical sensation involved with the visuals that Historia Viventem brings up! When that one ghostly druid walked through Callum, he felt icy cold. Like in ghost stories. I really wonder about what exactly Historia Viventem is doing when it activates. It shows truth, "what really happened here?", so it must have some kind of time-related element, maybe tied to how the moon always repeats the same cycles or something. But it also seems to draw on the spirits of any living people involved in the flashback, because Callum could physically feel that wispy shape passing through him. So very interesting!

Orrr... is that all wrong, and there's something else at work with this spell than time? Maybe the world beyond life and death can act as an imprint of the things that have happened in the living world, and the spell that Lujanne (and later Callum) casts taps into that place, with perfect recall. I'm looking really hard at the sentence that says "dozens of translucent elf ghosts" and "phantom Moonhenge" and "lost in their own world" here.

Lujanne says more here than in the show about the world beyond life and death, being her mysterious Moonshadow-mage self. She says that "beyond" and "between" might both apply to where this other plane of existence is, and she doesn't much care which. With all the relativity swirling around this place, and not much in the way of empiricism, it's sounding like perhaps multiple conflicting ideas might actually coexist in such a place, allowing more ideas to fit there than we might normally believe is possible. Which is a fascinating bit of worldbuilding. Basically, every headcanon anyone has ever had about the Moon Nexus could all be true at the same time, for all we know.

Oh oh oh, Callum coming in soft with a secret wish! He takes one look at the Moonhenge and immediately thinks of finding a way to see his mom again! Poor boy, my heart! I'd say that could be another interesting parallel with Viren, but then, who wouldn't hold that sentiment?

Oh my, is this another breath of life into Ye Olde Ley Lines headcanon? Lujanne mentioning the Nexuses again, so soon after talking about the runic design of the entire Moonhenge, makes me wonder if the six nexuses are in fact giant runes. On Earth, the places where ley lines cross are called nexuses, and there are those who believe those points got marked with ancient structures, like Stonehenge and many many others. If Xadia were crossed with magical lines which naturally formed nexus points where they met, and if powerful magical runes were built across those entire areas, well. That would be cool beans, fams. Can I smack a map of Xadia and release a spell like Luz Noceda does? Because ngl that is my first instinct here.

Lujanne has got to be missing some grandkids to spoil, right? The way she's always whipping out cake and ice cream for Callum, and she's so grandma-ish about it. Headcanon about her being Runaan's mom aside, she is canonically lonely and she's very sweet to Allen and Ellis and I think she's missing whatever family she once had in the past. She may never get to have that family back, so she's finding a new one among the humans who live nearby, and I think that's sweet. Found family isn't just for the young.

But Ellis is straight up gonna be her fave, I bet, because she didn't turn up her nose at Lujanne's illusion food!

Ezran and Bait have a lot more to their relationship than was visible in the show, and I'm so excited by it! Ez can tell by looking at Bait's colors that he's not truly jealous of Zym, even if he's really grumpy about the dragonling taking up his favorite human's time.

And Ez thinking a lot about his dad and the things he's taught him. They're soft leadership material, and I love that so much! "Pick your battles" and the importance of encouragement. Ahh, my heart. Ezran, you're going to be such a good king.

But wait a second: both times that Bait gets extra grumpy in Zym's first training session, Ezran has just mentioned something about flying. Guys, I think Bait wishes he could fly, really badly. And that's his biggest problem with Zym, and with Ezran teaching Zym to fly, instead of Bait who doesn't have wings so. Bait is so old that his secrets have secrets, and I'm really curious how flying fits into them now!

Rayla, Dramatic Assassin: "I need to patrol for dark forces." That's what Lujanne called the source of the purple wisps that found them. I wonder if that's an official term all Moonshadows know, or if Rayla is just taking her cue from a veteran Moon mage. And I wonder how far Rayla is falling into the apparent pattern of "one mage, one assassin", since she does spend a lot of her time patrolling without being asked.

When Callum tells Lujanne that he was bad at prince stuff, and she asks if he didn't give up and got good at those things anyway, it's an opportunity for Callum to embrace subverting his parents' expectations in favor of seeking his own path, which is a primary theme of the show. But Lujanne is a couple generations older than Callum, at the very least, and I have to wonder what her upbringing was like. Is her version of success the one she took? Was she bad at magic once too, but she persisted? She is very soft and doesn't want to kill anyone.

Maybe Lujanne had dreams of doing something else with her life, but she felt she had to pursue the destiny that others handed to her, so she studied magic as hard as she could, and she did get good at it, but using it to defend Xadia from humans is not what she wanted to do with her life. Whether there's a parallel between her and Ethari on that point, there's one between Callum and Ethari, I think. How much of your life are you willing to let others direct for you?

LISTEN I WAS DYING AT THE EAR BREAD SCENE OKAY

This is my new favorite Soren and Claudia moment ever. Soren loves him his bread, okay. Even as earplugs for Claudia's sleep ocarina tune. The fact that it's "super effective" makes me think of a Pokemon defense. The fact that he learned it at camp, where he also learned about Moonshadow Madness, is hilarious. Later on, Corvus doesn't know Soren by name, but I still love the idea of Corvus being a kind of Strider-esque camp instructor, filling the ears of his young charges with all kinds of useful tactics like ear bread for magic spell songs (which actually seemed to work as intended), and warnings about the enemy elves' blood-themed tactics (which may or may not come back around in BH)

I thought they were gonna go in a kind of deep direction when Soren still wanted his ear bread back, but then he just. Eats them. Just noms them. I love this kid. Give Soren all the bread!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #ToX spoilers #gloaming glade spoilers #lujanne #callum #rayla #ezran #tdp zym #soren #tdp claudia #tdp bait

21 notes · View notes

darth-salem-emperor-of-earth · 4 years ago

Text

Day One: Phantom Memories [Gerel x Mira]

I’m so far behind and late with my entries for @ockissweek but here’s my first fic. @a1thusa was so kind to let me borrow any one of her OCs and I decided to go with her Mira Surana. I paired her up with my newest DA character, Gerel Amell because I haven’t played her yet and wanted to expand more on her character and story. Thank you again, @a1thusa, for giving me the chance tp write about Mira. I hope I did her justice! :)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Summary: Two Circle mages share memories of the life they once had before being locked away in a tower. Or at least, the ones they can remember. Day 1 of OC Kiss Week 2021. Prompt: Memory. [Gerel Amell x Mira Surana]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.”

― Haruki Murakam

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the fifth time since this morning, Gerel buried her face in her tome and let out an exasperated sigh. By the Maker, concentration was an elusive entity to her today!

Maybe that’s because it’s such a gorgeous, sunny day out but you can’t enjoy the decent weather because Andraste forbid a mere Circle mage steps a foot outside and actually gets some fresh air.

Gerel remembered the last time she basked in the sun’s rays, the warmth of the sun spreading across every inch of her cheek, nose, brow, and raven hair, travelling down her arms and hands. Such a small, trivial experience to think back on but she learned quickly how to appreciate the small moments in life as a Circle mage. The daily routine could be monotonous at best, if the Templars generally left the mages alone and didn’t decide it was time to throw their weight and authority around.

“Can’t concentrate? Or are you bored already with studying?”

Gerel groaned into the worn pages of the book before lifting her head up to face her friend, Mira Surana. “Try both.”

Mira Surana had been in the Circle a few years longer than Gerel, even though they were of the same age. The young elf usually kept her umber tresses either in a loose ponytail or unstyled and flowing free when the deep night claimed the sky and slumber beckoned. Her brown eyes held a fire that matched Gerel’s spirit so it was no wonder the pair of them became fast friends when they both were thrust into the Circle at such a tender age. Such memories caused a wrinkled in her brow.

Taking note, Mira shot her a concerned look. “Is something amiss? Or someone bothering you?” She lowered her voice before adding, “Is it one of the templars?”

With a shake of her head, Gerel blew a single inky strand of hair out of her face and answered, “No, my ill mood has nothing to do with pigheaded templars. I’m merely cranky that I can't go outside and enjoy the beautiful day.”

Taking the vacant chair next to her, Mira’s face morphed into one of sympathy albeit there was an amused twinkle in her eyes. “Well, given to your penchant for pranking half of the Circle, I can see why some of the senior mages and templars would be...hesitant to let you run wild outside. Knight-Commander Greagoir would never forget the time you try to ride one of the Chantry's horses by yourself!”

“I was ten years-old! Most children my age are always up to mischief!” Gerel protested in mock indignance, her mouth curving upwards into a devious grin at the memory of her almost equestrian escapade. An identical smile was on Mira’s features as well.

“Maybe, but you also were brandishing a stick and screaming ‘Chaaaarrrrgggeee!’ at any templar who tried to pull you off the horse. Didn’t one of them almost get kicked in the chest?”

Gerel winced in recollection, relieved she had managed to maneuver the horse away from the templars and more to open fields. At least the two templars sent to retrieve her were wearing armor and more protected than she, a ten-year-old mage who missed roaming the countryside on horseback, like she did with her parents when she was younger and learning how to groom, feed, and ride horses on their estate. Those were happier memories Gerel had of her parents, before the templars arrived and took her away when she was six. Her father had held her tight beforehand, stroking her tresses and kissing her cheeks and the top of her head, unable to resist the templar who grabbed Gerel by her collar and yanked her out of her father’s arms. She barely had a chance to say goodbye, not when her mother was collapsed on the ground, hands covering her eyes as she wept uncontrollably while her father was trying to reason with the templars to let her stay with the rest of the Amell family.

“Gerel? Gerel? Did you zone out again?”

Mira’s voice pulled the said mage out of her dejected reminisce and she closed her book, a thick, uncomfortable wedge lodged in her throat. “No, I wasn’t--sorry, I…” The lump in her throat shot straight to her stomach and her nostrils flared heavily. “I was suddenly thinking about my parents and the last time I saw them.”

She didn’t need to glance to her left to see Mira’s sympathy, not when it was interlaced with her friend’s tone or in her touch when the elf reached over to place her hand on Gerel’s arm. “I’m sorry, Gerel. Was it something I said?”

Shaking her head, Gerel turned around to face her longtime companion and level her dusky stare against Mira’s eyes, their walnut color drawing her in. The bright light from the open window outside cast a brilliant, almost buttery glow over Mira, ranging from the top of her head down to her cheeks, pointed ears, and shoulders--accompanied with tiny motes of dusts floating around her. Her fingers brushed against the knuckles and the back of Mira’s hands prior to covering over it with her own hand.

“No, you’re not the reason I’m abruptly remembering the best and worst memories I have of my parents, the times I was free and not simply labelled as a possibly dangerous mage. I do miss them--and my siblings, wherever they are now.” Absentmindedly, she rubbed her thumb against Mira’s hand, drawing small circles in the soft panel of skin right in-between the joints of the pointer finger and thumb. Warmth already was flaring up between their fingertips but Gerel kept her focus on Mira and the carmine patches steadily rising on her smooth, flawless cheeks.

“I wish I knew my parents,” Mira admitted softly, lowering gaze down to the two mages’ cupped hands. Her brain tried conjuring up images of her parents, or what she thought they looked like but every time the faces appeared nebulous and shapeless, without concrete details or hues. “But they’re like ghosts in my mind: faceless, distant, and invisible. And it’s so frustrating! I can remember parts of my home, like the halla and the way the canopy of trees cast spotty shadows across the emerald green grass when the sun was blazing high in the sky. Yet the visual identity of my parents are just one giant, empty slate.” She bit her bottom lip, the hand on Gerel’s arm unconsciously tightening its grip but Gerel suppressed any nose or look of discomfort.

Mira was already living in the Circle by the time she was brought to the mages, fatigue, hungry, and sore from both screaming and kicking at the templars to let her go back home. She moved from being the oldest sibling in her family to being thrust into a tower of strangers with sorcery jolting from her fingertips that she didn’t understand nor control. Gerel felt so lost and out of place, worsened by the fact she couldn’t even go outside to get some privacy. Mira was assigned as her roommate and helped her slowly get acquainted with life in the Circle of Magi, even though Mira herself also chafed under their restrictions and she was living there since she was four. Maybe that was why memories of their former life were both so painful and yet heartwarming to them. For remembering the good parts of their past was still ridiculously hard and overwhelmingly sometimes but at least, those recollections belonged to them and reminded them of a life outside and walls and strict rules, a life that could be theirs again--if the First Enchanter Irving (and the Knight-Commander, unfortunately) trusted their behavior.

Leaning in, Gerel removed her hand so it could instead grasp Mira’s chin and tilted it upwards until their eyes met once more. “Mira, I promise you whenever we’re free to leave the Circle and can travel the world, I will help you find your home--and your parents, should you wish to look for them.”

Mira nodded, the corners of her mouth tilted upwards into a small smile but her brown eyes remained solely on Gerel, her pupils seemingly larger the more she continued to stare at the comely elf. Gerel should have released her hand, should have leaned back to give her friend more space but their proximity was so enticing, so familiar, and comfortable that the idea of pulling away felt more unnatural and difficult to execute. She probably would have remained in that stance if Mira hadn’t closed the short distance between them and captured her lips with a slow, tentative kiss.

Gerel remained rooted in her chair, one hand resting the armrest while the other gripped her chin, and yet every nerve in her entire body was alive and quivering with this unexpected spark zapping down her spine and each and every limb. Her senses were more focused, especially with touch and taste--like she could sample remnants of bread and mint lingered from breakfast earlier from Mira’s tongue as their mouths parted to deepen the kiss. The kiss was so warm, new, and inviting and when Gerel paused to capture Mira’s bottom lip with her teeth and give it a soft bite, the elf’s eyes fluttered briefly as a quiet but powerful, breathless sigh exhaled deep from her lungs.

Embolden, Gerel’s hand then snaked from her chin to Mira’s throat, cradling the back of her neck as she tangled some of her pale fingers into her friend’s loose ponytail, its smooth texture soothing her senses while their bodies bumped up against each other akin to two magnetic fields. Mira’s nose bumped against hers and she tilted her head slightly to continue the kiss more easily. She even teased Gerel a bit by first running her tongue along her top lip before allowing the kiss to resume and have their tongues momentarily entwine while Mira slid her hand from her arm to her side, high up and right below Gerel’s left breast. Now Gerel was torn between concentrating on the kiss alone or grabbing Mira’s hand to place it firmly on her chest and most definitely shatter the platonic aspect of their friendship. Because now her brain was full of unchaste and most assuredly heady thoughts, such as finding a new seat called Mira’s lap.

“Mira? Gerel? Are you two in here?”

I hate you, Jowan.

Jowan’s annoyingly cheerful but thankfully loud voice from the other side of the library startled the two women out of their entranced kiss, their forms immediately retracting from each other once they disentangled from each other's arms and tried to look as innocent as possible. Gerel already opened her book again to maintain the pretense she was studying but she kept making meaningful glances at Mira from her pages, regardless if Jowan found them in a few minutes. What a relief it was for them both to have Gerel’s usual studying spot to be so far back in the library and often ignored by other mages. In Gerel’s opinion, the kiss was well worth the risk.

“Do you want to talk later--tonight?” Mira whispered, playing with her ponytail as she tried but failed to stop brushing a finger or two against her mouth.

Gerel nodded. “In our shared quarters, where it’s private.” A devious grin flickered across her porcelain-esque features as she added: “And we can be undisturbed.”

Giggling, Mira nodded with approval, the flush on her cheeks refusing to fade. For some reason, Gerel felt absurdly pleased she made her feel that way, even if all they shared was a mere kiss--or two. Although, technically, there was a whole series of them, even though she lost track of exactly how many the second she started nibbling on her friend’s bottom lip and the warmth in her belly flared up with delight. Tonight they’ll have a proper chat about each other, not just swapping simple yet painful memories from the distant shadows of their past. This time, Gerel was rather hopeful about the future.

#OCKissWeek #OCKiss21 #ockissweek21 #oc kiss week #Gerel Amell #Mira Surana #Gerel x Mira #Warden Amell #Warden Surana #Dragon Age #OCs #No proofreading we die like men #XD

13 notes · View notes

frost-flame · 4 years ago

Text

Stan’s Ford plushie

A fic based on my post. This is also a practice to write more Stancest in the future. (It’s more of plot though)

His brother is such an ungrateful bastard! Why did he expect a "Thank you" from his brother? Right, he was hopeful. He should've learn to stop being so hopeful. Life in the streets taught him that. He'd gone soft.

He sighed sadly as he removed his fez and sat on his bed. He put the fez and his glasses on the nightstand and lied down the bed, staring at the ceiling with nothing in his mind. But sleep still hadn't come to him. He had gotten used to working on the portal every night. For 30 years that's what he did. Now... He feels incomplete without that on his routine.

All he wanted was a "Thank you" (and maybe even a hug) from his brother. Their reunion was completely different than what he thought it would be and yet... That was actually one of the possibilities he thought of. Ford punching him on the face. He remained positive and hoped that maybe one good thing would come to his life. He should've known no good things happen to him, except the kids. Them coming here is the best thing that happened to him.

Stan chuckled. He may not get the love he wanted from his brother. But he has the kids now. They love him. They made it obvious to him every day. With that thought, he fell asleep.

~~~~~

Next morning Mabel can't help but feel a bit down after remembering what happened yesterday. Her grunkle Stan seemed so sad. Then again, if she was in Stan's case, she would be too. Getting punched at the face by your twin brother whom you haven't seen for 30 years isn't really a reunion anyone would be expecting.

Mabel had made a decision. She wants to make her grunkle happy, but how? She could make something for him. But would that be enough? No. What would cheer up Stan? Money? Stan already gets that through the mystery shack. A date? Stan didn't seem to show any interest to anyone else in the Falls. Getting a tourist to go on a date may be a solution, but the shack is close. A plush? Now what would Stan need a plush for?

Wait a moment...

Remembering the wax figure that she made before (that unfortunately melted), Stan treated it like a person... Like his brother.

"Like Great Uncle Ford!" Mabel said out loud. "What about Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper asked with interest and a sparkle in his eyes. "Nothing, Dipper. I just want to cheer Grunkle Stan up. He seemed so sad yesterday" said Mabel as she sat cross-legged on her bed and hugged Waddles and played with his little pig arms.

"I know. I never saw how fake his smile was until that moment when he smiled at us before we went to bed" Dipper replied as he put his book on the nightstand. As much as Dipper wanted to ask the author a billion questions about Gravity Falls, the man had just got back last night and is probably adjusting. He needs to give the man a bit of space before asking him what he needed to know.

"What do you mean like Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper asked. "What?" Mabel replied confused. "You said "Like Great Uncle Ford" suddenly. What do you mean by that?" Dipper asked again.

"Oh right! Remember the wax figure that I made of Stan? He treated it like a person. And then we discovered Grunkle Stan has a twin and the wax figure look like him! It all come together Dipper. He treated the wax figure like his brother!" Mabel exclaimed.

"I never thought of that. No wonder why he was so sad when the wax figure "died" said Dipper thoughtfully. "But what's the point in all of this, Mabel?" Dipper asked in interest.

"Well, I want to cheer Grunkle Stan up! You saw how he looked last night. I want to make him happy" said Mabel with a happy smile. "How are we going to do that? Bring him out fishing?" Dipper asked with teasing tone to his voice. "Nope! I'll make a replacement Ford" Mabel exclaimed.

"A what?" Dipper asked, shocked at Mabel's statement. "You know, a substitute. A replacement for the wax figure I made so he could get the love he wants from his brother" replied Mabel with a big grin.

"And what exactly would this "substitute" be? Another wax figure?" Dipper asked.

Mabel hummed in thought and then snapped her fingers as an idea popped into her head.

"A plush! Everyone loves plushies! I think" said Mabel but mumbled the last part. "What about a plush of Great Uncle Ford?" Mabel asked with a big grin.

"That can be a good idea" said Dipper thoughtfully, putting a hand on his chin. "But you need to ask for Great Uncle Ford's permission first" he added. Mabel's smile slowly turned into a frown as that idea came into mind.

"You're right. How am I suppose to ask Great Uncle Ford that?" Mabel asked. "I don't know. That idea was great and all but if The Author didn't approve of a plush toy of him, it will be pointless" Dipper stated rather than reply.

"It's not a question of yes or no. It's a question of when I can ask him" said Mabel confidently. "What made you certain Great Uncle Ford will say yes?" Dipper asked with a raised brow. "That's on me, Dipper" said Mabel.

She jumped from her bed and ran downstairs excitedly. "Wait! Mabel!" Dipper left his bed and grabbed the 2nd Journal to continue reading for later and ran after his twin.

Reaching down the stairs, Dipper hurried to the gift shop and saw his sister standing in front of the vending machine with a little reluctance etched on her face. She gave Dipper a grin and was about to reach to type in the code. But then the vending machine opened and out came their great uncle Ford. He seemed surprise to see them as well.

“Kids! What are you doing up so late?” Ford asked surprise. “It’s already morning, great uncle Ford” Mabel replied with a smile while Dipper nodded in awe at seeing their great uncle or the author again.

“It’s morning? I didn’t notice. Is there any breakfast?” Ford asked looking around. Only then did he notice that indeed it is morning, the light outside the shack making it obvious.

“Yes! There are pancakes in the kitchen for you” Dipper replied. Mabel noticed Dipper sweating a little bit. Mabel snickered at that.

So far so good.

They followed Ford onto the kitchen and watched him grabbed a fork, seeming to inspect it for a second and sat at the table. The pancakes were neatly stacked along with maple syrup and butter on top. A note was written Ford on top of it all.

“Do you kids want some?” Ford asked nudging the plate of stacked pancakes towards them. Both twins shook their heads no. Now’s the moment, Mabel thought.

“Great Uncle Ford, do you mind if we make a plush toy version of you?” Mabel asked quickly but shyly. Despite being a relative, the man is still a bit foreign to them (or to her). But she does want to make something for the man. How about finger puppets? He could be the master of finger puppets with his six fingers. She'll do that later.

Ford seemed to enjoy the food he was eating as he looked slightly blissful and happy as he ate the pancake. “Hmm? Oh yes, of course” said the author with a dismissive wave of hand. Mabel cheered and ran off, Dipper following suit.

“By the way, Grunkle Stan made those pancakes! it’s good right, Great Uncle Ford? So much better than the Diner's!” Mabel added happily. Both twins didn’t notice the surprise look of the author and the phantom smile that came after it.

Mabel and Dipper walked around town wondering where they can find a tailor to sew a plush toy of Ford and wondering how much it would cost. if it’s too expensive, Mabel would have no choice but to make it herself, whether or not it would look like Great Uncle Ford or not.

"Now where can we find a tailor that sews custom plushies?" Mabel asked to herself. "We should ask someone we know for a trustable source" Dipper commented. Mabel nodded her head in agreement. That would be preferable. If the price for customized plush would be too expensive, Mabel would have to buy all the materials needed and she has to learn how to make one too. But as much as possible she preferred to have it be created by a professional.

"Heya, dudes!" A familiar voice greeted. "Soos!" The twins greeted back in unison. Because of the events last night, the shack is once again in repair, being managed by Stan while his only two staff had the day-off. It seemed the town is also in the same condition.

"Soos, thank goodness you're here" said Mabel in relief. "Soos, you're just the guy we need" Dipper added. "Really? What for?" Soos asked curiously.

"We're looking for a tailor. Someone who is willing to make a customized plush toy of someone" Dipper replied. "We want to make a plush toy version of Great Uncle Ford for Grunkle Stan" Mabel explained. "To make him happy."

"For Mr. Pines, anything. Follow me, dudes. I know a tailor that might do your request" Soos said waving his hand to follow him. Mabel cheered then the twins followed Soos to the location of the tailor.

It took a lot of bargaining but since the tailor knew Soos, they were finally able to make the tailor agree with the price. It's a reasonable price but still a bit high. Soos decided to pitch in too. Mabel disagreed but Soos insisted because "It's for Mr. Pines" he said. Fortunately, they'll only pay once the product has been made.

"I'm glad that's over" said Mabel as she happily skipped back to the shack. "Yeah but we're going to wait a week to get it." Dipper complained. "For Grunkle Stan? I'm willing to wait" Mabel said.

Dipper shook his head but with a smile at his sister's determination or stubbornness.

~~~~~

A week passed and what happened yesterday still amuses Mabel. The fact that she went on an "epic magical quest" to save her brother was fun. She'd also been making finger puppets for her great uncle but he doesn't want to do it. Oh well, maybe next time. It seemed she's forgetting something. What could it be? What could it be?

Mabel looked at her surroundings and saw Waddles only lying down on the carpet. Her grunkle Stan is nowhere to be found because he's managing the shack again. Great Uncle Ford is still down at the basement as usual. Maybe that's where Dipper is.

Wait...

Ford... The Ford plush! "Oh that's what I forgot!" Mabel muttered, mentally smacking herself. She ran to the attic, grabbed the money and ran to where the tailor is.

Reaching the tailor, Mabel went inside and the owner of the little shop greeted her not so warmly.

"Took you long enough, kid. I was expecting earlier than this" said the tailor. Grabbing a box and giving it to Mabel. "Go ahead and check it kiddo, I did my best to make it adorable but detailed like those "chibi" things you showed me." The tailor made a circling motion with her wrist while rolling her eyes.

Mabel opened the box and took the plush. The fabric was nice to feel. There are exactly six fingers on each hand. And the plush is so soft. The hair had stuffing too. It seemed the glasses are removable. The jacket isn't though. That's fine.

"This is beautiful" said Mabel in awe. Someday she will make plush toys just as great as this, but nicer towards customers.

"Well, honey, of course it is! I made it!" said the tailor proudly with a smug look.

Mabel took the money from her backpack and paid the tailor. She put the plush back in the box and took the receipt and ran back to the shack with a big smile.

When Mabel reached the shack, she ran to her room and found Dipper there. Whatever he and Ford had been doing, it's done now.

"It's finished, Dippingsauce!" Mabel exclaimed showing the box where the plush is. "Really? What's it look like? Is that woman really great like she said?" Dipper asked with obvious curiosity. He would totally hate it if his sister wasted her money for nothing.

"Yes!" Mabel replied opening the box and showing the plush. "Wow, she is good" said Dipper. "I guess now we know why the price is like that"

"Worth it!" Mabel exclaimed with a huge grin. "I'm going to give this to Grunkle Stan later"

~~~~

Stan doesn’t know what he was staring at. Well he knows but he can’t believe what he was seeing. Mabel was holding a Ford looking plush right in front of him. It was pretty big. Maybe it’s about 40 centimeters? It looks expensive. Mabel was grinning at him with pure happiness and excitement. Is this for him?

“Grunkle Stan, what do you think? I had this made for you!” said Mabel with a big grin. Stan doesn’t know what to say really. He had no idea why Mabel would do this… and seriously that thing looks expensive.

“I- I don’t know what to say” he replied. Mabel took it as a compliment, fortunately. “I had this made for you” Mabel exclaimed and pushed the plush towards him. “Mabel, sweetie, how much did you pay for this?” Stan asked. “Doesn’t matter, Grunkle Stan” Mabel replied dismissively.

“Mabel if you spent a lot of money for this-“

“If I spent a lot of money for it and you decided to throw it away, then that would be wasting money” Mabel cut off with a hint of embarrassment in her voice.. That’s logical. But the tone… is she embarrass that he got this for him? It would be a waste of money to throw it because he didn’t like it. But he didn’t ask for this. But Mabel bought it for him (which is also embarrassing) because she was thinking of him.

“Why exactly did you bought this?” Stan asked unconsciously hugging the plush tighter. “Grunkle Stan, you were sadder – or grunklier – than usual again and I thought it was because of your brother. So I thought of getting you that so at least you can give as many hug as you can from your brother… like how you treated the wax figure before” Mabel replied while twiddling her fingers and face red. She is really that embarrass? Well, it is understandable now. An old man isn’t usually seen with a plush toy that is usually for children.

“Now I really think I wasted my money” Mabel muttered, embarrassed. That look doesn’t suit Mabel, not at all.

“Well, I kind of like it” Stan replied. “Mabel’s face looked surprise. “Really?” Mabel asked with her face starting to brighten. “Yeah! This is a lot better than the wax one. I like it. Thank you, Mabel” said Stan with a grin and playfully messing up her hair.

“Ack! Grunkle Stan”!” Mabel said removing the hand from her hair. She giggled and then gave him a hug, which caught Stan off guard. She skipped happily away with the knowledge of cheering up her Grunkle Stan.

The next day, Stan seemed to get attached to the plush quickly. Dipper and Mabel were proud of themselves. Stan’s mood lighten and he doesn’t glance at the vending machine nor hang at the gift shop often anymore. But he also doesn’t talk to the plush like a person unlike the wax figure. This is better. It benefited everyone! Stan’s happy with the plush and their Great Uncle Ford doesn’t need to be disturbed. It’s a great idea!

~~~~

Mabel and Dipper didn’t expect this…

Their Great uncle Ford obviously did not like it. He had been glaring at the plush whgenever he sees it for 2 days now, which was weird because he seemed to be okay with the plush at first. That was only three days ago. Does that mean it only took a day for Great Uncle Ford to hate it? Is it because they did it without his permission? That can’t be right. They asked permission and he said “yes”. Albeit dismissively, he still said yes!

…Then why? Why would he hate it? What if it’s because it is possessed…? No it can’t be possess. If it is, with or without permission from Stan, Ford would have destroyed it and explained to them why he had to do it. Then why? It’s an innocent plush.

Unless… is Great uncle Ford jealous of the plush, specifically the attention it keeps receiving from Grunkle Stan?

If that is the conclusion, Dipper would be doubtful… at first. It’s proof now. Stan just gave the plush a quick peck on the cheek and Great Uncle Ford seemed ready to commit murder. A few hours later, Stan did it again and Great Uncle Ford almost stormed to the living room if it weren’t for the fact that Mabel and him held Ford back.

Great Uncle Ford is jealous of the plush… This is going to be chaotic…

#gravity falls #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #stanford pines #stancest #maybe #f.f. fic #ford plush #ford plushie #gravity falls fanfiction #jealous ford

49 notes · View notes

whumpiary · 5 years ago

Text

response to an ask by @ghostofavictorianchild, who requested “singing to them” from a soft gestures list. this is almost certainly not what you wanted, but the bastards will do as the bastards do.

[content warning: explicit content, strong elements of dubious consent, referenced noncon, abuse of power, touch starvation, drugging mention]

"You need coolin', baby, I'm not foolin'"

Christopher's singing voice was low and husky, winding around the song’s melody a lot slower than it was usually sung. The broad vowel sounds Christopher usually spoke with softened and curled at the edges when he sang, the tone melted into something smooth and soothing. Well not… not soothing. But it was sure something.

"I'm going to send you back to schoolin'"

Which was ironic, considering how fucking difficult it was to focus on learning Mandarin when someone was playing guitar barely ten feet away.

Playing guitar and looking at him like that.

"Way down inside, oh honey, you need it"

Cass hasn't been touched in six days. Six goddamn days of being kept in Christopher’s room. Not being able to leave, able to see anyone, able to speak to anyone. Not able to do anything other than sleep or eat or chip away at his readings.

And Christopher hasn’t fucking touched him.

Not in six days.

Not even as they slept.

"I'm goin' to give you my love.”

He can feel Christopher’s eyes on his face out of the corner of his eye.

”I'm goin' to give you my love"

Tries not to watch the older man’s fingers moving along the frets of the guitar with practiced skill and precision.

“Want a whole lotta love”

So stop singing about it, he wants to scream.

“Want a whole lotta love”

And get over here.

“Want a whole lotta love”

Stop playing guitar.

“Want a whole lotta love”

And fucking touch me.

Christopher’s attention settles back on the strings of the guitar, his heel thumping the floor in the slow, steady beat he can hear in his head as he finger-picks a riff that belongs on an electric but has settled into the folky, acoustic twang just as well.

He looks up at Cassius just briefly, the shadow of a smirk on his face as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Cocky old fuck.

It's been six days since Cassius had woken up with Christopher's hips rolling into his back, his lips on his neck, hand on the younger man’s cock as Cass' body bucked into it on pure base instinct, and something in Cassius had just snapped. He'd shoved himself away from the older man, sudden and violent, spitting something along the lines of, "Do you have to touch me every second of every goddamn day?”

“I saw you had a little problem this morning, I just wanted to-”

"There are boundaries, Christopher, and you know it.”

The older man had tilted his head, brow creased in a mixture of concern and dismay and he’d reach out his hand, “Cassius-”

“No, don’t fucking touch me. Why do you always have to be touching me?” Cass knew the words were bad even as he was saying them but he couldn’t stop them flying out “How hard is it to just keep your hands off me for five fucking minutes?”

And Christopher had paused in that heavy, weighted way he does when something has angered him thoroughly. When he's thinking about the den. And that's exactly where Cassius had to go until the man had smiled softly.

"I had no idea you felt like that, darling boy," he'd said, holding his hands up in a terrifyingly easeful surrender "I promise not to touch you any more than you want me to"

And even then a chill had run through him. And Cassius didn't know the fall out yet, but he knew he'd fucked up.

“You've been learnin', baby, I've been burrnin'”

Cassius doesn't know for sure, because he never knows for sure, he's never certain, but he could swear there had been something in his breakfast this morning. Maybe in his coffee.

Something that made his skin feel like it was on fire.

Something that made his blood run hot and cold both at once, and his body in search of stimulation and relief.

Or maybe that was just six days of starvation from a thing he’s gotten more used to than breathing.

"All them good times, baby”

It was like every movement of air was designed to send a shock through, every brush of the sheet was there to send a shiver down his spine. Like the whole world has turned into a lover who got off on watching him all riled up but then refusing to give him satisfaction.

Which, to be fair, if Cass looked to this left...

“Baby, I've been yearnin’"

You asshole. You piece of shit. You fucking cunt.

“Way down inside”

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you-

“Honey, you need it”

Please just get over here and touch me.

“I'm gonna give you my love”

Run your hands up my sides, down my thighs, through my hair, I don't give a shit just touch me.

“I'm goin' to give you my love”

“You’re not being subtle,” Cass spits out through his teeth. He can barely stand it.

“Didn’t know I was trying to be,” Christopher replies, the barest hint of a smile at his lips as his fingers keep working the strings, the riff changing and melting away into a different tune entirely. Christopher never finishes the songs he plays. Just changes to another and then another on a whim until he gets bored.

This one's one of his favourites. Elvis. He hasn’t played it in ages.

“Well, since my baby left me I found a new place to dwell Well, it's down at the end of lonely street At Heartbreak Hotel”

He sings this one with a little more grunt. A little more soul. A little bit of grit to his voice.

It’s… annoyingly attractive.

Cass shifts where he sits and runs his hand backwards through his hair, trying to ignore the fact that it teases something in him that he refuses to name.

“You make me so lonely baby Well, I'm so lonely I get so lonely I could die”

It’s so fucking on the nose that Cass rolls his eyes. For a man more than twice Cass’ age, Christopher could act like a goddamn child.

"All the music you play is dirt old, you know that right?" Cass snaps, letting the agitation twist into irritation instead of… whatever else it was trying to be.

Christopher laughs, and his fingers keep strumming as he speaks, skipping to the instrumental “Is that meant to offend me?”

“No. Just an observation”

"What would you prefer I play, love?" Christopher says, eyebrows shooting up in derision as he changes to some plucky Ed Sheeran bullshit before Cass slams his book shut with a loud thump, tossing it on the ground.

“Oh piss right off”

Christopher laughs and the tune reverts. Maybe changes all together. Cass has never been great at picking between them.

He closes his eyes and listens to the older man play, head dropping back onto the pillows he's sitting up against.

How hard is it to just keep your hands off me for five fucking minutes?

He hadn't meant forever. He hadn't meant stop touching entirely. He had just wanted… boundaries. Jesus, he gives the man everything, were boundaries so much to ask for?

No, don’t fucking touch me. Why do you always have to be touching me?

He hadn't meant it but he never fucking means it. That's what Christopher is saying, isn't he? When he tells them to be careful with their words. When he’s reminding them of the power of speech. Of language.

Cass groans, throwing his arm across his eyes and blocking out the light. He doesn't even want sex. Not really. His body certainly wouldn’t complain but he doesn’t need that right now. He could survive without sex. He could survive without pleasure. He doesn’t need it.

All he wants is contact. Something to remind his body that it's still real, it's still alive, it's still worthy of something other than keeping him breathing and collecting dust. Something to remind him that he's here, he's here, he's here and not drifting off, not dissolving like he feels like he must be. That he's here and not… pretending again.

He just needs… He just wants…

God, he just wants to be touched.

"Christopher..."

A low hum of acknowledgment, but the music doesn't stop.

"I'm bored."

Another twanging riff, "Is that right?"

"And… restless."

Another hum. The older man doesn't even look up.

"Christopher, I'm-" Cass halts, his cheeks burning for a reason he can't place. He's never had to do this. He's never had to say this. It usually just happens. But that’s what he wants, isn’t it? – I promise not to touch you any more than you want me to – Christopher wants him to want it. To ask for it. To beg.

"Christopher I'm telling you I want you.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes”

“Well, that’s unfortunate. I’m busy.”

Cass has to hold back a growl, fingers bunching in the sheets, “You’re playing the fucking guitar.”

“I’m practicing a skill. You know how I feel about learning new skills...”

“With your all or not at all,” Cassius drawls, dropping his voice low and mocking.

Christopher laughs again, soft and low, and his fingers pick up their pace. He’s not even playing anything now, he’s just doing drills, plucking notes in sequence. What were they called? Scales. Something he doesn’t need to practice, something he could do with his eyes closed. Just making a point.

Cassius watches the older man’s hands move. He can’t help himself. They move so smoothly and with such perfect precision and Cass could drive himself half mad just watching them. He can feel the phantom pattern of them trailing along his ribcage. The ways they could light him up, set him on fire, burn him down. The ways they had. Will again.

Or, he hopes they will again.

“I’m going insane over here,” he breathes out. He’s dizzy with want and halfway hard just from watching someone play guitar. There was definitely something in his breakfast.

“Really?” the older man says, tone caught somewhere between total apathy and near-sardonic surprise “In what way?”

“You know in what way”

“Do I?” Christopher says, looking up, hands pausing for the first time in an hour, the echo of the guitars strum rings out, discordant. “I’ve been working hard not to assume these things…" He tilts his head to the side, eyes wandering across his charge’s body slowly, relishing something intangible, lingering just below his waistband. His lips twitch into a smile he can’t quite hold off before he flicks his attention back to Cassius' face. "In case I cross boundaries”

Cass does his best to ignore the way that Christopher’s eyes on him fills him with thirst. He ignores the cold swell of fury in his belly. His voice is a croak as he speaks.

“I just want you to touch me,” he grinds out “It’s been days, I feel like I’m going to-”

“If you have a problem, darling boy, maybe you need to fix it yourself,” Christopher says, looking at him with eyes so cold Cass could swear he feels ice on his skin “You want to be touched? You have two free hands. Mine are busy”

Cass can’t help the way his jaw drops open, just slightly, “You’ve gotta be kidding me”

Christopher doesn’t answer, just starts the next verse.

Cassius does growl then, flipping onto his stomach to bury his face into the pillow, breathing hard.

“Although it's always crowded You still can find some room For broken-hearted lovers-”

He curls the pillow around his ears, and it muffles the song just slightly. Not enough to ignore it.

And it does fuck all the muffle the way his body burns and burns and burns.

It’s not unfamiliar. This hunger for touch. The problem is he’s usually alone, usually separate from everything, from everyone. Falling apart from the seams, yes. Maybe even begging. But at least usually it’s in the void of stark and vicious loneliness.

It's worse like this, somehow.

He lies there on the bed, violently still, body aching, damned and burning in his own special hell. While Christopher is right there, less than a room apart, his hands running over the guitar like it'll grant salvation Cassius could never hope to earn.

Cassius breathes deep, trying to calm himself, but with every inhale the exhale feels more ragged and unrelenting, dragging something wild and barely contained from deep below and up to the surface. Cassius closes his eyes. He breathes. He lets his next few thoughts trickles slowly through his head like burnt caramel. Sticky and sickly and bitter.

You won’t touch me? That’s just fine. I don’t need your hands. I don’t need you.

He rolls his hips forward into the mattress. Slow. Experimental. It feels good. It feels so damn good.

I’ll make myself feel so good that I won’t ever want you again.

He does it again. A roll of the hips, a shift of his pelvis. A little exhale, body sinking closer to the mattress.

But I’ll make you want it. I’ll make you want me.

He does it again. And again. Release of tension. Release of… lots of things.

And then when you’re begging for me, I’ll keep you at arms length. Let’s see how well you can stand it.

Once more and he's not just breathing into the pillow anymore. He's biting down on it, just a little. Another roll and his breath stutters. Eyes squeezed closed, hands uncurling to press flat to the sheets.

He starts to rock, back and forth, back and forth. His body feels like its singing. Back and forth, back and forth. His cock hardening. Back and forth, back and forth. Hips lifting up and hitting the mattress and again and again as he lets a moan slip out, breathy and just barely there and he doesn’t have to care if it sounds pretty.

Every savage bit of hunger starts to transform and crystallise into something that’s only this, only pleasure, only enjoying himself. Enjoying his own body. And God when did he stop doing that? When did he stop exploring what he liked? Privately, in the middle of the night. Secretly, in hallway corners with other charges. When did he stop allowing himself pleasure? When did he forget that this body has his?

He moves to palm himself as his hips move, the dry warmth of his hand so much better and more exhilarating than the sheets alone. He lets out another little hum, biting down on the pillow as he closes his fingers around his cock, tonguing at the fabric of the pillow between his teeth, already a little damp from where he’s all but drooled on it.

He’s always liked something to do with his mouth while he’s getting off. There’s a part of him that wishes it was someone’s chest or throat or cock or lips, and there's a part of him that's so thrilled that it's not that he can barely breathe. Something about pressing his own mouth against the pillow, for no one’s delight but his own, makes it feel forbidden in the best sort of way.

A sudden wrong note in the guitar riff is like a victory siren for a game he forgot he was playing.

Cass laughs into the pillow and moans. He hopes he looks obscene. Hips rocking, hand moving below his waist-band, mouth gaping.

He opens his eyes and Christopher's eyes are on him, like he knew they would be. And doesn't that feel good? Seeing the hunger in the man's eyes again after a week of him playing indifference.

Cassius laughs softly and groans again, shifting his grip and savoring it a little before flipping onto his back, letting his shirt drag up just a little. He pulls himself out, moaning as he fists his cock. It doesn’t feel half as good but he knows it looks amazing. He always knows what looks amazing because Christopher’s’ always sure to tell him.

Just like that, darling, I want to see your face.

But not right now. Right now, the older man doesn’t show any degree of approval or condemnation. He just looks focused, while his fingers pluck at the same four notes, over and over and over. Cassius holds the older man’s gaze and arches his back up, letting his mouth drop open in a sinful moan.

Come on, old man. Just admit you want me. I fucking know you want me. Just give in.

He closes his eyes again, panting as he pulls himself closer and closer to climax. Why had he stopped doing this for himself? When? When had he started giving everything to Christopher? Every breath, every touch, every gasp, and moan, and scream. It used to be his. It used to all be his and day by day, breath by breath he's handed it over. But he could take it back again, should take it back again. With just the movement of his wrist and the bucking off his hips.

Somewhere between a gasp and a moan, the guitar stops playing and Cass hardly notices. What he does notice is the way light dips into cool shadow as Christopher looks over him, partially blocking light from the window.

All at once, Cass is hungry again. Thirsty. Desperate for water in the desert.

Christopher's eyes are fixed like a predator on prey, running up and down his charge's body without shame. Cass could swear he can hear the man's heartbeat from here, slamming with thrilling lust. Or maybe that's just his own, blocking his ears and stealing his breath. He doesn't care. He wants him all over again. Needs him.

"Christopher," he breathes and the older man raises a hand, smooth and flat, skimming the air just above his charge’s body. Cassius keens, arching up into the empty space between them but Christopher’s already moved, hands instead hovering above his thighs, just over his hips, ghosting close but not near enough to touch, never near enough to touch.

“Christopher for the love of God-”

“Shhh, darling,” he whispers. His voice is heavy with hunger but soft. As if raising it would break a spell. Like a roll of thunder in the distance. It sends another thrill through Cass’ body that he can’t control. “Finish yourself off”

Cass groans, whines, pushing his hips into the air towards the older man. A plea. A prayer. A beg.

“Please,” he pants, barely audible between breathes “Please, just touch me, please, please, I need you, I need-”

“Cassius, this is my house, and this is my bed,” Christopher murmurs, and his hand is hovering so close to his charge’s pelvis Cassius could swear he can feel the heat radiating from the man’s palm “You need what I say you need”

Cassius pants, hand still working at himself, and God he wants to cry. Christopher is so painfully close and so desperately far and Cass feels fury run through him, as violent as his lust and twice as hot and he curves his back up and-

“Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ, ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴇ”

The world stops.

The older man sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, body stilling as though he’d turned to stone. His hand twitches. So does the muscle in his jaw that tenses when something’s angered him. When he opens his eyes they are equal parts ravenous and incensed.

“No,” he says slowly, carefully, barely a growl through gritted teeth. He draws his hand away as though it physically pains him to do so. “Finish yourself off without me or I won’t touch you for another week”

And just like that, Cassius comes with a jerk and a cry, body collapsing back down onto the sheets. He heaves ragged breaths. He’s hot and he’s spent and his body shudders in the after-shock, a cold chill running over him like someone had just doused him in iced water.

“Good boy,” Christopher whispers, breath as heavy as the boy’s below him “Good boy”

The sound Cassius makes as Christopher kisses him is caught halfway between a gasp and a cry. A desperate sigh of relief. A sob. But just as soon as he starts to move against Christopher’s lips, they’re gone again. Vanished. Like it never happened.

Cassius opens his eyes and watches the older man’s back as he retreats, retrieving his guitar and sitting down again to resume like there’d been no interruption at all. Cass’ breath stays caught high in his chest like he’s never going to catch it again.

He has to hold back a whine as he rolls back onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow again. He doesn’t feel any better. He’s no closer to relief. He just feels exhausted and furious and his body won’t stop shaking.

Cassius lays there, body electric, drowning more thoroughly in shame and fury than water could ever manage, and he starves.

#noncon cw #dubcon cw #abuse of power #touch starvation #drugging mention #somnophilia mention #Christopher #cassius #tumblr can eat my whole ass tonight #we love a functional website

64 notes · View notes

agrinsosardonic · 4 years ago

Text

Unused CSB Chapter

Our third year attending Camp White Wolf in the Catskills. I was a shrimp approaching thirteen and my bones always hurt from growing. Sephiroth hit his first growth spurt and towered over me like one of the mountains that surround that camp. And no sooner did my parents pull away from us- not to be seen for six weeks- Sephiroth abandoned me for the older boys he made friends with last year. Leaving me alone. I expected it. I knew he would do this. A common thread, but it didn’t change the crushing rejection that I felt. That I carried on my shoulders as I grabbed my bag and found my cabin.

My time there remains a blur. I remember the smell of the still lake later and wood wet with Summer. Bugs sang songs in whispering trees in between attacking my skin. The hot sun, humidity, that muffles the sounds of camp. The disturbed water from rowing. The shouts of competition. The mess hall and the static of conversations I could never find myself to become a part of. I sat alone. Strangled by my thoughts. My lack of self-esteem even though my braces had just come off.

Your teeth look big now.

Sephiroth had said. I ran my tongue over them instinctively every-time I remembered that comment.

I never attempted to make friends in that place. All the boys just seemed so much more put together. And handsome. And I cringed every time that thought floated into my head. I wasn’t supposed to think that like; pinched my eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. Video games, or comic books. Horror movies were a great relief, because it’s fucking real hard to get a boner thinking about a girl getting sawed in half. Everything is ten times more difficult at thirteen. Body always tense with pain. My dick constantly tried to give me away. My brain just then started hearing that voice that whispers in the shadows- all the solutions to my problems.

By the third day, I wanted to call my mom and beg her to pick me up. The boys in my cabin, often secretly led by Seph, decided I was an easy target and tortured me every morning. Traps I would step into like a fly to a web. And my best friend, the one my parents asked to watch me, nowhere to be found. Alone. The kind of alone that I can actually feel. Like I’m being crushed between two walls closing in- suffocating. No way out.

Sat by the lake and thought about hurting myself for the first time. At the time, the thought seemed logical. Injure myself in a way that would get me sent home. Burn myself on a fire, or cut myself with a blade. In reflection, this was the first time I considered self-harm as an outlet. One I would end up returning to time and time again. But, then, twelve years and eleven months, pissed look etched upon my face while I thought about all the ways I could destroy myself, someone sat next to me with a loud hmph announcing his presence.

Did the lake do something to piss you off?

I no longer can remember the sound of his voice.

But I had turned my head and saw him sitting next to me, knees up to his chest and arms listlessly draped over them. I recognized him from the previous years. His deep black hair wild like the forest at midnight. Blue eyes that glimmered like the moon. He wore the white camp shirt they gave us and black swim trunks. I knew his name. Zack Fair. But I had no idea why he decided to sit next to me.

Well?

I stuttered through my words, still not used to the absence of metal in my mouth. Uh, w-what?

You look like you’re about to fight the lake.

I brought my eyes back to the green and blue rocky body of water. Zack was two years older, just shy of his fifteenth birthday which would have him working at the camp as a Junior counselor, instead of a participant. We didn’t hang with the same group- well. I didn’t have a group. He did. And all I could think about was those friends lurking in the shadows waiting for my guard to drop so they could play a cruel prank on me.

You know, this lake sucks. He continued, it attacked me my first year here and I’m not over it!

He showed me his foot, by practically shoving it in my face so I could see the faded pink scar on the sole. Attacked by a rock! First week too. Never forgave it. So, if you’re trying to fight the lake, I got your back.

I cracked a smile. A small one but showed my teeth. And I remember the way he tilted his head. Like a puppy. You’re kinda cute when you smile. You should more often. You’ll have all the ladies chasing after you!

My stomach flipped.

Actually, that never happened before and I thought I was going to throw up and started getting nervous. But his smile, bright and comforting, kept me from fleeing to the coldness of my cabin.

You’re Cloud, right? And I remember being shocked he knew my name. He revealed he was captain of the opposing Volleyball team in that afternoon’s game. Which saw my pathetic attempts at being useful in a sport rewarded with a ball to the face, the stomach, and somehow my legs much to the resentment of my teammates; who slung every vile slur they had learned in their young lives.

I felt a wave of hot embarrassment. Tried to bury my face in my knees but he pressed on. Complimenting my attitude despite the failure. I shot pointed glares at my teammates and continued to play despite their displeasure with me. That takes balls, man he smiled.

We sat together at the lake while the sun descended over the water casting a fiery glow against the water. He informed me he came from New Jersey, mocked me gently when I revealed I’m from Staten Island. We argued over which state has the better pizza. What life was like back home. He was entering Sophomore year of high school-and I always forget that fact when I reflect on our relationship...if I could even call it that.

Zack became my friend first; guiding me during those dark weeks of camp. He invited me to sit at his table in the mess hall with his two other buddies. He taught me how to throw a football in a perfect spiral. Took me rowing on the lake during free time. Picked me first in every team sport, including capture the flag which saw Sephiroth on the opposing team.

And we won.

And I do sometimes remember the sensation when Zack threw his strong arms around me, cheering my success. How it felt like a million needles pricking my skin and my heart thundered to a halt. And I was so caught up in the fleeting moment of pure euphoria, I barely acknowledged the strange look Sephiroth shot threw his silver bangs as he cocked his head to the side and watched Zack and I be ushered off to revel in our victory. I recall it at times when he gives me that same look. The same look he gave when he asked about Reno the first time. And I get sick just thinking about how far back he planned everything.

The night of the victory, after dinner with our team and sharing scary stories over the campfire, Zack walked me back to my cabin late. And pulled me into a hug I didn’t understand at the time. And another feeling pooled in the pit of my stomach when he ran his big hands down my back, stopping short of my buttocks before bringing them back up. Nerves. He felt so much bigger than me. Maybe at the time I felt safe in that embrace. But it’s tainted now but what happened after. And while he whispered Good Job, shorty in my ear like a supportive friend, I think I knew there was something else he wanted to say. Something he communicated with an extra squeeze before he released me into the damp darkness of my cabin.

I laid in bed that night thinking only of Zack.

Recalling the last few weeks of our budding friendship. Calculated every time he found an excuse to touch me, whether it be a playful push or messing up my hair or kicking me underneath the table. His defense of me to the few friends he had, who hated a tiny kid running around behind them like Peter Pan’s unwanted shadow. Counted on my fingers how many times he gave me this look, the same look Tifa would give me under the covers.

And I realized between the obvious fucking tent in my pants and the rush of butterflies in my stomach- I was in pre-pubscent love with Zack.

My friend.

The older boy who took pity on me.

And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

I laugh about it now, when I’m throwing back shots of vodka to numb myself from the trauma of it all. But then, I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face that remained there until one of my cabin mates discovered my issue and called me out in front of everyone.

I forgot how easy rumors start.

But I hadn’t considered that fact

And maybe history just repeats itself.

Zack became my first in almost everything..

My first real kiss under the moonlight after we snuck into the lake after hours. Jumped in with our clothes on- and despite the heat that hung in the air, the water felt like frost. But he was warm. When he ran his hands against my cheek. When our lips met. And I thought this was the most beautiful feeling I could ever experience. The height of human emotion.

And one night, after sneaking out successfully for almost a week, we went to where they stored the canoes- and I never found out how he accessed the shed. He whispered promises in my ear. Told me I was beautiful.

I played a dangerous game; followed his lead. Accepted acts I offered in return without understanding the consequences. Curse of childhood is short sightedness. And I mistook his acceptance of me as loyalty. And I got myself wrapped up in him that I forgot the person I was before he engulfed me in his gaze. I wanted to be Zack as much as I wanted Zack to love me; like the love they show in movies. Artificial passion.

Playing these memories back, only three and a half years later, it feels like a different life. And as soon as I feel those rough reminders, my brain shuts down. I’ve drank him away so many times, I find him to be more of a phantom than a tangible being of meat and bones. Who took my innocence away.

And then like a switch flipped-

I approached him at our usual spot in the mess hall. He ignored me.

When I tried making strain conversation, he offered one word answers.

The judgmental eyes of his friends drilled into me. And I left with my head low; wondering what I did wrong. Thinking he got tired of me just like Sephiroth did.

Sephiroth, I found him in the cabin reading one of the comics I brought with me. Lounging in his bunk. Eyes darted to me. And all he said I heard a rumor.

Apparently someone discovered our actions in the canoe. And that someone threatened Zack he would tell the whole camp. But that someone felt so inclined to tell Sephiroth what he saw. My stomach dropped out of my body. The hazel-eyed boy just stared at me as he vacantly recalled the information he received from his source. And followed with how disgusted he was to be associated with me.

And I denied.

Denied

Denied. With increasing alarm. And with every crack of my voice, his lips curled. Twitched into a smile.

And I denied until I started believing in my own words.

And I blamed Zack-

But I don’t think I’m entirely wrong in that. Which adds another stone to my back that crushes me. One I should have started cracking when I went to therapy and maybe I wouldn’t be such a confused, chaotic, disaster of a person. Any self-confidence I had captured crumbled and turned to dust that year.

I tried to bury all those memories instead of actually addressing them- and now here I am. Presented with a similar situation. An enemy, under the guise of a friend, had weaponized a personal part of myself for his own selfish pleasure. And I stand alone. Bailed on by a person who claimed to care-

And maybe it’s time to change the narrative.

#clack #csb #unused chapter #writing #fanfiction #final fantasy fanfiction #cloud strife #zack fair #sephiroth

7 notes · View notes

letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years ago

Text

THAT’S RIGHT BITCH! It’s October and I am still watching and inexplicably blogging about Supernatural - a dinosaur of a television show that’s been on the air longer than most children I know have been alive.

I know I’m An Old because I don’t think kids these days understand the struggle it was watching television before streaming. We had to wait for episodes. Hell, I don’t think kids these days even really have to wait for seasons. I mean, Voltron premiered on Netflix in 2016, capped off their seasons at 13 episodes a piece and, oh yeah - aired seasons 5 - 8 all in 2018. Was I mad about that? No of course not. Do I also say phrases like “kids these days? Yes, so who even knows if what I think is relevant anymore.

Alright, so speaking of seasons, last time I looked at pilots and pilot seasons and how the streaming era is changing everything we know about starting a TV show. But once you’ve got your pilot down, now what?

Not this kind of pilot. Also, based on the prerequisites for demon possession, we’re all agreed this co-pilot’s like, an alcoholic, right?

There’s a rule in TV (sort of) that the first six episodes (some might argue the first season entirely) should be a kind of rehash of the pilot. The pilot sets up your premise and once you’ve got your pilot down, your job as a TV writer is to re-establish that premise over and over again. You’re building your world, you’re writing it’s rules. You’re setting up a template, a formula for how your episodes are gonna play out. This helps your audience get to know the characters, get familiar with your world, get comfortable spending time with them. Essentially, you’re getting your audience to trust the show that they’re going to be tuning in to for at least the next 20-some-odd episodes.

I’d also argue that this is important so that later, you can break that format later. I’m not saying you should break the trust your audience puts in you, and that’s probably a real fine line of distinction. But if you break your rules right, it can hit the audience with a big emotional sucker punch. Or, it can stand out as a real breakout, tentpole of an episode - I’m thinking specifically about Ghostfacers! In season 3, or Once More, With Feeling, from Buffy. Those episodes work, really work, because they deviate from the formula, but they only work because we know the formula so well. And these aren’t big changes to the way episodes are done, they’re just shifted ever so slightly that they felt new again..

So what is the premise of the first four episodes Supernatural? What’s the formula they set up for the rest of the series?

Brothers. I said it in my last post, I’ll say it again, Sam and Dean/Jensen Ackles and Jared Jared Padalecki are what makes this show. Full stop. I think we could have gotten 5 seasons out of a show starring two other dudes. I do not think this show could have gotten 15 seasons with two other dudes. So from the pilot through Phantom Traveler, we learn that Sam and Dean have a sh*tty home life - their mother was killed by some mysterious evil thing and their father raised them to be little demon-hunting child soldiers while they look for the killer. Oh yeah, and Sam’s girlfriend died the exact same way which we will never forget because Sam’s gonna have a dream about it almost every episode from here on out. We set up the tension between the brothers - that Sam got to go to college while Dean stayed with their dad like a good boi. We learn that everybody hates each other probably because they are deeply and unhealthily codependent love each other so damn much.

Next we get the basic rundown of the season arc:

Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days. The Winchester brothers are looking for him and by extension, looking for answers as to what killed their mom/Sam’s girlfriend. We also get the basic rundown of every episode: dad is a mysterious and elusive sonuvuabitch, so every episode they go about, say it with me now:

“The family business.” I would also accept “Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can,” but why can’t I find a gif for it?!?

Backtracking on this but you know what else gets hecking established with the Winchesters? Sam is the cute one with the people skills and the puppy dog face, so you’d naturally assume that he’s the soft one. No. Not the case. Dean is the Sofffft Boi. The SOFTest boi. Dean wants Sam to talk about his feelings, Dean wants Sam to not keep things bottled up, Dean is the one who desperately wants to keep a hold of his family and also is just deeply broken and traumatized on the inside and oh no, I told myself I wouldn’t do this but I did it anyway. Sorry not sorry. This watch, I’m really picking up on the fact that Dean is, weirdly, the Mom Friend in this first season. Like, he’s basically a Trailer-Trash-Teen-Pregnancy Mom who’ll give you spaghettios five nights a week and a shot of whiskey so you’ll quit yer bitchin’ and go to sleep faster, but he’s the Mom nonetheless. Later in this season and in other seasons, I think you even see him do his dumb-baby-best filling in as the Mom when John went off the deep end. Anyway, I have a lot of feelings and we don’t have time to unpack all of that so I’ll just move on.

RUDE.

Next we set up our Supernatural Bag of Holding - what’s in it? What are the mystical artifacts they use to kill those evil sons of bitches? First up is The Car. Damn, I am not a cars girl, but that 67 Chevy, it does things to me.

This car has some weird pavlovian trigger for me, it’s not NATURAL.

The journal.

John Winchester, you journal the way I imagine a psycho killer journals and I would just really appreciate it if you could be ANY MORE ORGANIZED THAN THIS.

The Trunk Full of Weapons - I love that in these first few episodes (and possibly the rest of the series???) they give this HELLA conspicuous look every time they open the trunk full of weapons. It’s hilarious EVERY TIME.

No, you’re not being obvious at ALL, guys.

The Fake ID’s - from credit cards to impersonating feds, these boys are not afraid to break the law to save some lives and I feel like that’s...that’s the theme of the show maybe? They’re here to save people and they’ll do what they have to to do that? In a world that clearly establishes a dark vs. light/good vs. evil dichotomy, the Winchester make it their job to live in a world of grey? Basically?

Next on the checklist for this first season of Supernatural - it’s spoopy. *Spoop mileage may vary.* I said it last time, but I’ll say it again: this first season aired at 9:00pm at night. That means it’s primetime stuff for the 18 - 25 year old crowd, but they don’t want to risk some 13 year old watching it and getting too scared before bed. 9:00pm is X Files time slots, Fringe time slots. 9:00pm says you’re gonna get something a little more gruesome and gory and shocking than at 8pm. 8pm is for Friends. Vampire Diaries aired at 8pm its first season. 9pm is for the real adult content (but not too adult because the audience is still mostly children).

SPOOP!

But yeah, let’s look at the real horror vibe that you get off of these first four episodes. We talked about La Llorona from the first episode - this is a legit ghost that they fight. The kids at the end that literally drag their mom to hell? Pretty spooky stuff. The Wendigo in episode 2 is a literal monster of the week and so for me personally, it’s not that scary, but it is a cannibal monster that eats human flesh. Dead in the Water has vibes from both Jaws and Friday the 13th. Everything from the lighting to the sound design let’s you know this is a horror show, or as horror as you can get on network television. Listen to the scenes just before somebody dies and you get a nice creepy “Come play with me” whisper coming out of the water. I’m a little spooked just thinking about it now. Yes I know I’m a chicken, and I’m OK WITH THAT. And if we go past my season 1 disc 1 into episode 5, Bloody Mary is STILL terrifying and I STILL watched that episode with half my face covered. That’s where I am these days. It’s 2020 and the world is a nightmare but imagining Bloody Mary creepin’ out in my mirror does not need to be a part of it.

SHE F*CKIN CLIMBS OUT OF THE MIRROR GUYS! I DIDN’T KNOW SHE COULD DO THAT!!!

Then we get Phantom Traveler and our very first case of black-eyed-demonic possession. Watching this episode now, it’s like watching someone’s home movie of their first steps as a baby. They’ve never even done an exorcism before guys! They have to read the exorcism rite out of the journal! It’s so cute!!! Let’s not think too hard about how they got that full sized bottle of holy water past TSA in a post-9/11 world. And try to ignore how poorly these special effects have aged - the smoke from the demon possession?? OMG! THIS EFFECT! I’m pretty sure I could make that effect with my first ever graphic design software on my, like, 2009 mac book pro. So cute and soooo good! I’m gonna leave that CG plane alone, they’re doing their best.

SO cute and SOOO good!

You want to know what my favorite established staple of Supernatural season 1 is? The extras. LOOKIT these guys -

Wendigo you have Cory Monteith who later goes on to star in Glee.

You have Alden Ehrenreich, Debatable Han Solo, doing a lot of face work with very little dialogue.

You have Gina Holden who is in SO. MANY. Spooky-type things! My personal favs are Blood Ties and Harper’s Island, but she’s in Fringe, she’s in the SAW franchise, she’s in the Final Destination franchise, she was in some deleted scenes on an episode of Teen Wolf! I LOVE seeing Gina Holden, anywhere she pops up.

And speaking of Harper’s Island, you’ve also got Callum Keith Rennie who played John Wakefield in Harper’s Island, a show that was A+ Great and I highly recommend if you like Agatha Christie and/or murder mysteries.

Honestly, Rennie looks like he’s about to murder a bitch in this episode of Supernatural, it is not a stretch to believe he’s a psycho killer.

Dead in the Water you’ve got Amy Acker, a regular in Joss Whedon and Whedon-adjacent type shows.

Good LORD, this wardrobe was SO 2000′s WB and it PAINED me.

And finally in Phantom Traveler, you have Jaime Ray Newman who also shows up in a lot of the shows that I like to watch. She was in Eureka, she was in Midnight Texas, both kind of terrible shows that I love because they are terrible, but she was ALSO in Bates Motel and Veronica Mars, which are generally considered to be more quality, so there’s that.

This still implies that they actually LIT scenes, which is a SURPRISE TO ME.

Point is, seeing these actors in Supernatural back in the early 2000’s felt like I was seeing the start of their careers. That may or may not have been the case, but as a viewer it was exciting to see them pop up again in other things.

So what about TV now? Do we still use those first 6 (sometimes more) episodes to re-establish the premise? Well, it certainly hasn’t gone away. Look at any network show that still produces 22 - 24 episodes a season and you’ll still see that the pilot season just keeps re-iterating the premise established in the pilot episode, specifically in anything that’s procedural - that’s you’re monster/problem-of-the-week shows. Think sitcoms like Brooklyn 99 or Superstore or dramedies like Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. The reason being that these shows play in the traditional model of television - on a network, once a week. They are not releasing episodes all at one time or relying on their audiences to stream a whole season in one sitting. These are shows that still assume that someone out there is going to tune in or stumble across their show one night while they’re surfing channels (lol) and need to be told, no matter what episode they’ve just turned on, what the premise of the show is. They need to be formulaic so that people can pick it up anywhere at any time.

But what about shows that don’t follow this traditional model? I mentioned in my last post that seasons are getting shorter and shorter, so when you’re writing a show that only has (8) episodes instead of 22, how much time do you really want to spend establishing the premise? Because of these short seasons, you’re also dealing with shows that are more serialized and less procedural than their predecessors - meaning, you’re dealing with a show that focuses on a season long story (think Game of Thrones or Stranger Things where each episode is an important chapter that you can’t skip) vs. a procedural (think the shows I mentioned above or any cop drama really) where each episode is it’s own contained story, neatly wrapped up at the end. These are shows where you can skip an episode and still know where you are in the show no matter where you start or stop watching. Supernatural is a little bit of both - procedural with their monsters of the week AND serialized with a season long arc. We’ll talk more on that in a later post.

Not only are we getting shorter seasons, but we’re also dealing with shows that are not released over long periods of time. A few streaming channels, like Disney+ and HBO Max, make a deliberate point to slow-drip their seasons, but most streaming channels will release entire seasons in one shot. You don’t need to worry about your audience missing an episode because they have 24/7 access to all the episodes all at once. And for the most part, they’re designed to be binged. They start at full speed and they don’t slow down to keep driving you to the finale.

Do I think the procedural is ever going to go away? No. As much talk as there is about dropping the cop drama from TV all together, I think audiences still love a good mystery series. And you can’t just think of procedurals as cop dramas either - a procedural also covers most if not all sitcoms. New Girl, Letterkenny, Parks and Rec, Superstore - these all have a premise that doesn't change from week to week. They may make tiny shifts away from what they set up in the pilot, but by and large, you know what you’re getting into any time you turn on an episode. I think we as an audience still like that kind of familiarity. We may be seeing a bigger swing towards more serialized content, but that doesn't mean that the procedural is dead and gone.

So that’s what we’ve got for Supernatural - two dudes, driving around in a car full of spears and hand guns, killing bad guys. Some day, they may even find that father that’s missing. What could possibly go wrong? A lot. Stay tuned.

#Supernatural #Supernatural Season 1 #Supernatural Rewatch #Sam #Dean #Winchester #Pilot #Wendigo #Phantom Traveler #Television #History of television #Dead in the Water #Jensen Ackles #jared padalecki

5 notes · View notes

certifiedskywalker · 5 years ago

Text

Academic Misgivings (Part One) - Peter Parker

Here it is! Part One! Remember this is a Rivals-To-Lovers, slow burn story with a Fem!reader. This also takes place after Homecoming and before Endgame. FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED!

You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemy either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you. He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own. But can you?

Blood was pounding in your ears, heart thundering in your chest as if spurred to life by some angered beast. The sensation of tingling nerves as your hand seemingly hovered, magnetically drawn, over the buzzer. Adrenaline drove you through the thrill as Mr. Harrington’s monotone voice echoed in your skull. The question floated in your mind, seeking its own answers locked away between the neurons of your brain.

With a snap of synapse your whole being jolted. Your palm slammed on the buzzer so hard that the light within shuddered a violent red. Mr. Harrington’s brown eyes widened in shock at the sound but her quickly composed himself.

“Midtown?”

“What is the Fibonacci Spiral.”

“Correct!” Mr. Harrington rang a little bell and turned his back to you. Finally, you allowed yourself to breathe, although it felt more like a wild gasp of air.

“Figures,” you heard someone grumble behind you, but you were too caught up in rolling off the high of affirmation. The mounting joy was building like the apprehension of riders on a roller coasters first crest of a large hill.

“Great job, Y/N. You’ll be heading the B team in Chicago.” And there was the stomach sinking drop. No cheers filled your ears, only disappointed thoughts barraged your mind.

“The B team? Doesn’t my improvement push me up to the A team?” The rest of the academic decathlon team fell silent at your question. You didn’t have to turn around to know that all eyes were on you. Almost all eyes.

“Well we already have Mr. Parker leading A team. We need to keep our heaviest hitters spread out through the sets of questions.” Your hands curled into tight fists. It would take you and ‘Mr. Parker’ to even out the intellect on B team. You opened your mouth to say exactly that when the school library doors flew wide. A red faced, panting, Peter Parker had decided to show up. Now, all eyes were on you as you loomed over the table.

“So, so sorry, this won’t happen again, I promise,” Peter said, his bright eyes shifting from you to Mr. Harrington. The man peered at him through his thick rimmed glasses with an almost fatherly expression. Peter, like a scolded child, dropped his backpack next to the others and found an empty seat on the other table, opposite you.

“It better not,” despite the veiled threat, Mr. Harrington’s voice was soft. “We need you in Chicago Peter. You’re our secret weapon.” If it weren’t for Peter’s awkward laugh, everyone could have heard your eyes rolling in their sockets. Ever since you were both young, Peter Parker had never failed to show you up. If he wasn’t deemed superior under the circumstances, then you were put on an equal footing that always set you more on edge than his overwhelming victories.

For instance, there was the first grade summer reading program. The program itself was not, in name a contest; but as soon as the plump librarian dotted on the fact that you and Peter were ‘neck and neck’ with the amount of books you had both read, you drove yourself to collect on a phantom prize. At the end-of-summer reading palooza party hosted by the public library, the final count was drawn in a tie. You and Peter had read a grand total of 42 books a piece, a hefty sum for a couple of seven year olds.

Then there was the infamous war forged on the third grade front of Mrs. Davis’ classroom. The lovely lady taught science, arguably your favorite subject and Peter’s realm of fascination. Mrs. Davis had both you and Peter in her fifth hour class and would often call on either of you to run errands for her before lunch period. The battle to be her teacher’s pet was intense between you and Peter. It was only in fourth grade did you both learn that being a teacher’s pet was the worst thing anyone could be, ever. Nevertheless, the seeds of animosity had sprouted that year and sixth grade only serves to nourish the growth.

The second year of middle school had not only stirred up the beginnings of puberty but also supplied an outlet for your budding hostility towards your academic rival. You weren’t one for physical education, much preferring a good book than a good jog, but dodge-ball was a godsend. Peter was as lanky as a stick bug, making him a smaller target but that also meant he couldn’t throw very far either. The dodge-ball intramural championship gave you your very first win against district-wide admiration of Peter Parker.

Despite how tall and suddenly handsome Peter had gotten over Summer break, your jealousy towards him remained. The flames were only stoked when girls would, happily, go up to talk to him, compliment him. Burning with envy, for which party, that you were unsure of, you finally talked to Peter. All years past, your competition to outdo each other had been silent. Not a word had passed between you before seventh grade and it only served to anger you further.

Peter was kind. So kind that he made you feel like your bitter rivalry had been one sided. Further fueled, you competed against him in a school hosted trivia night. However, the fates seemed to be against your thirst for conquest because you and Peter ended up on the same team. Granted, that team had won, but between you and Peter, no winner was named.

This fervent yet unspoken clash continued to grow as you both entered high-school. Freshman year had consisted of fighting to see which one of you would join the academic decathlon team first. Peter had made the A team and you the B team. The results presented a persistent conflict between you and the boy genius that had followed up to the current Junior year. Was it childish? Perhaps. Were you ever going to admit that? No.

The sound of a loud practice buzzer went off, breaking you out of your reflection. When you looked up at the table opposite, your jaw clenched. Of course it had been Peter to answer the question. His friend, Ned, clapped him on the shoulders and you felt your own tense up.

“Correct, as always, Mr. Parker.” Mr. Harrington changed the score on the board and you felt your skin crawl. Peter was always the star pupil, no matter how well you performed in his absence. “Alright next question. Hypertrichosis is colloquially known by this name…”

The meat of your palm stung when it impacted with the buzzer. “What is Werewolf Syndrome.”

“Correct!”

You smiled smugly, reclining back in the uncomfortable chairs that, on some vile whim, the school board had deemed perfect for the campus library. Ready to gauge Peter’s disappointment in himself, you spared a glance his way. You found his brown eyes on you, lips offered you half of a smile. You wanted to gag. The role of team player had never suited you, but Peter worn it well like the clothes on his back.

“Well, that ties up our practice scores!” Your head seemed to spin out of your control as you snapped your gaze to the white, erase marker board Mr. Harrington was holding up. Just once, that was all you wanted, to win. “That gives me the opportunity to talk about the trip to Chicago.”

A chorus of limited cheers and apprehensive stares flooded the room. MJ finally looked up from her book at the news of the field trip. Some of the team was still reeling from their last one. Washington had been a great victory if you ignored how they almost died afterwards.

“It’s gonna be fun guys!” A cheerful cry from Betty, a lovely blonde sophomore. She hadn’t been on the trip to Washington. Flash, how was sitting beside you, let out a snicker at the younger girl’s optimism.

“That’s right, thank you, Betty,” Mr. Harrington continued, “sadly, due to budget cuts, we will be taking a smaller bus this time. Pack lightly and tell your parents that you will be safe. Everyone signed the waivers, yes?” Most of the team spoke up in response. “Great. Now remember, meet at the front doors at five fifty-five. We’ll be leaving the school at six.”

“So much for the healthy, professionally recommended eight hours of sleep,” MJ remarked, bringing a smile to your lips. You had never had a long conversation with her, but from what experiences you did have with MJ, you took her to be the wittiest person you had ever met. Much to your amusement, that same wit had a tiring effect on Mr. Harrington who, after MJ’s critique, promptly dismissed the team.

You stood swiftly and began to gather your things. The team had a bad habit of stacking bags on top of one another, so it took a moment for you to find you backpack. Once you dug it out of the stack of bags, you spun on your heel and nearly fell face-first into Peter.

“Oh, s-”

“Watch it, Parker,” you snap before the blush on your cheeks became too visible. he warmth from his body had dulled the flames of embarrassment for a moment before you had realized how close you were to him. You didn’t give Peter a chance to reply as you pushed past him. Luckily, it seemed that no one had noticed the dusting of pink along your face.

The white-hot soreness was put to rest by the crisp afternoon breeze of New York. While Midtown School of Science and Technology wasn’t in the heart of the city, it was close enough to the bay where, every now and then, a gentle breeze would carry off from the water. Such a gust was especially felt after school when the sun was no longer at its peak. The receding sunshine made for a cool walk home.

You adjusted the straps of your bag more securely over your shoulders, hoping to keep your mind off of the moment before. Any interaction with Peter had the innate gift of setting you on edge. You clenched your jaw as you walked, the grinding of your teeth drowning out the pestering thoughts of him. However the one sound that wasn’t overshadowed was the quick pattering of feet on the length of sidewalk behind you.

“Y/N! Wait up!’ You turned your head for a brief moment and, after recognizing the figure chasing after you, you picked up your pace. “Y/N!”

“Not now, Flash, I have stuff to do!” You felt a hand grab your wrist and you stopped in place. Glaring at your peer, you yanked your hand away.

“It will only take a moment.” Teeth gritted, you stared at him.

“It better be worth it.”

Flash gave you a startlingly smug grin as you followed him into a nearby coffee shop. He ordered some absurdly complicated mocha-cappuccino concoction before you both found a secluded table. If it weren’t for the circumstances, you would have enjoyed the shop. It was painted a calming sea-blue and littered with antiques of all sorts. The interior gave off a relaxed aura that was brutally interrupted when Flash sat in front of you as he stirred an alarming amount of sugar in his already frothy drink.

“Alright, I have a proposition for you,” Flash said, placing his coffee stirrer on a napkin.

“A proposition? What are you, a mob boss?”

“Nah,” Flash said coolly as he waved his hand in dismissal, “just a boss in general.” You had to keep yourself from gagging as he continued. “It’s clear to me, everyone really, that you’re not Peter Parker’s biggest fan.”

You let out an amused huff. “Really? You’ve noticed?”

“Neither am I,” Flash said, having ignored your remark. “Which is why I extend an olive branch to you.”

“What does this olive branch entail?” You leaned forward with a quirked brow, eyeing Flash. He had your attention.

“You want to be on A team, as do I. No one can move up with Peter sitting there with his other nerd friends. With the right manner of,” Flash leaned close to whisper, “sabotage, we can both get what we want.”

“Sabotage?” You leaned back in your seat, eyes skirted the features of the weasel before you. What Flash was selling was enticing, but the idea of stooping to his level was wholly unappealing. Or perhaps it was the prospect of playing dirty that appalled you, the risk of actually hurting Peter maybe. You shook your head. “Not interested.”

“Hold on, hold on, you haven’t heard my plan yet,” Flashed raised his hands to calm you, keep you listening. “One of us would befrien-”

“Really, not interested Flash,” you interrupted as you stood up from your seat. “I don’t need to ‘sabotage’ him, I’m better than him.”

“Judging by your stable and steady position on the B team, it seems like you might not be.” Rage, pure, unadulterated rage flooded your body and turned your sight red. You turned to glare at Flash before you stomped out of the coffee shop.

You didn’t need him, you thought as the cool air hit your face once more, don’t need anyone. For you entire life, you had been going it alone so what was something more? You would show Flash and, hopefully, Peter. That leading spot on the A team was going to be yours.

“Y/N, hold on! I’m sorry, but please, listen!” You kept walking and, when he realized he was being ignored, Flash hurried to your side. “If you don’t to sabotage him, can we at least train together? If we’re like really good maybe the city can organize for us to meet Spiderman or even Iron Man! He gave that internship to Parker of all people so maybe-”

“What is it with you and Spiderman?” You countered, hoping to get off the road of this conversation with a well-worn detour.

“I dunno, he’s just….he’s like really cool! Did I ever tell you about the time at Homecoming he took my car?! It was-”

“You told everyone about that,” you grumbled, clearly annoyed. “Why don’t you find someone that doesn’t know that story, yeah?”

You took advantage of his silence and darted quickly down the block. Flash’s strength of talking when no one wanted him to was also his greatest weakness. One that could be easily exploited if you were in need of a getaway. Home was just a few more blocks down.

As you rounded a corner, you nearly ran into a couple walking by. The man’s arm was lazily slung over the woman’s shoulder, who smiled so brightly it was almost like she had been paid to do it. The couple exchanged giggles as you passed by and your heart sank. It had been normal for you to be so painfully focused on the academic side of your life that you had neglected almost every other facet of it. That included romance.

Peter and his ridiculously large brain and his shy little smile took up far too much of your time for you to have even entertained a relationship. Books and trivia apps were your closest friends. Your family was a different story altogether. From the moment Peter Parker walked into your life, everything had changed. You imagined his life had changed too.

As you walked, a shadow fluttered over the length of sidewalk before you. Ever so curious, you looked up to see a man swinging from building to building; Spiderman, specifically. He was hard to miss with the bright red suit and flailing limbs, spindly like his name sake. The powered man looked just as you remembered him from the first time you had seen him. Up close, he had looked more like a boy than man as he safely loaded you and the rest of the team in the elevator inside the Washington Monument on solid ground.

It all felt like a distant memory as the apartment complex you called home came into sight. Everything that last year had felt clean and safe, perfectly juxtaposed to life now. Spiraled out of control, you had once said to your mother. She hadn’t responded and you knew that she wouldn’t. You climbed the steps, as the elevator was out of order, all the way to the eighth story.

By the time you had unlocked the door, your feet ached for respite. As you kicked off your shoes, the sound of them as they hit the floor echoed in through the apartment. There was no carry-over bustle from the streets. The exposed brick bore no life in the form of family portraits. No one was home except for you and your thoughts; as usual.

You woke the next morning at five. Luckily, before you had fallen asleep, you had enough foresight to pack for the Chicago trip. Textbooks to read during the drive, clothes for the three day stay, and your favorite green sweatshirt already thrown over your loose t-shirt. From the last trip, you had learned to wear comfy clothes for long bus drives. The twelve hours from the school to Chicago was the perfect excuse to dress lazily.

From the near-empty fridge, you grabbed snacks and bottled water for the road. Already, the idea of competing with the highest ranked schools in The Windy City made your stomach churn. With the twisting nerves, you decided to skip breakfast. A poor choice, you soon realized as you lugged your bag down the seemingly endless flights of stairs.

By the time five fifty-five rolled around, you were sweaty from the trek from your home to the school. Mr. Harrington looked exhausted but the ever spry young Literature teacher, Ms. Lauren, chattered away to the team as they boarded the small bus.

“Ok kids, I know you’re tired, but put your bags in the back of the bus so we can easily unpack it when we get to the hotel.” You wondered if Ms. Lauren happened to be a morning person or if the large, travel mug of coffee held tight in her hands had anything to do with her wide smile.

Once your bag was stacked with the rest, you settled in a seat towards the front. MJ’s mass of curls popped up in a seat nearby, her sneaker-clad feet hung out in the aisle. Ned and Betty, the blonde sophomore, idly chatted, talking about the last time they had been up so early. Late, as usual, Peter Parker made his way on the bus.

“You’re lucky this wasn’t practice, peebag,” Flash sneered when Peter walked past him. The skinny boy dragged a suitcase behind him, one of the front pockets unzipped showed a type of red workout shirt. Or at least you assumed as much, judging by the look of the material.

“Hi Peter,” Ned greeted loudly, making you crane your neck to glare in their direction. It was much too early for pleasantries.

“Hey, Ned,” Peter said quietly as he added his bag to the pile. He gave Betty a nod of greeting before working his way back to the front of the bus. He stopped beside MJ’s seat, just in front of you. “Can I?”

MJ only glared in response, her legs remained sprawled lengthwise along the seat. Peter sighed and turned to look for any other empty seat. As he did, the rather crabby looking bus driver had slammed the bus door shut. The small bus jolted and Peter gripped the edge of your seat tightly, as he kept from falling.

“Is this seat taken?” Peter asked you, his tried looking brown eyes met your gaze in earnest. You stared back at him, mouth parted as your mind tried to register what was happening. It seemed that Fate was against you once more.

“Sit down kid!” The gravelly voiced of the bus driver reached your ears and pulled you back to the present. Locked eyes tore away from Peter’s as you moved. You scooted down the bus seat until your side was pressed up against the window. Peter said a soft ‘thank you’ but you were much too peeved to reply. You hoped that if you pressed your cheek against the cool surface of the window that the blush that had burned into your skin would fade. No such luck.

However, what it did cool, was your heated thoughts. A dull ache that had plagued you since you had wakened vanished. Finally at some sort of ease, you allowed yourself to close your already hooded eyes. You felt warmth as you drifted off to sleep, a safety you hadn’t had in a long time.

Whether it was the jolt or the sunlight filtering through the slightly grimy bus window that woke you, you were unsure. All you knew was that you were comfortable. Slowly, your eyes opened as you cringed against the rising sun. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since you had left, but tiredness still seeped into your bones.

It was when the sounds of snickering filled yours ears that you awoke fully. The telltale sound of a phone’s digital camera shutters clicked off and you were thrown into a frenzy of embarrassment as you realized why you were so comfortable in the first place. As if his body had burned you, you pulled your head away from Peter’s shoulder. You narrowly avoided knocking skulls thanks to an alarming quick reaction on Peter’s part.

“What?!” Your shout caused the growing crowd around you and Peter to scurry off.

“Ar-Are you okay?” Peter’s soft brown eyes met yours and held the utmost, disgusting amount of concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The bus jus-just jolted,” you grumbled in reply. Peter nodded but you knew that he knew it was a lie. You had never been quite good at lying.

“Oh, o-okay,” Peter murmured before he fumbled with his phone. You rested the side of your face against the window once more and watched other cars race by. Silently you hoped that the movement would keep you awake. Out of the corner of your eye, you observed Peter as he attempted to untangle his earbuds. He gave up halfway through and put the small speakers in his ears. The cover art on his lockscreen read ‘Bastille’ in bold white font. Of course he had good taste in music too, you thought bitterly.

The twelve hour drive dwindled down to it’s final hours, marked but the periodic buzzing of Peter’s phone on his lap. After it went off three times in a row you looked at in annoyance and hoped Peter would take the hint. The notification was a text from MJ with nondescript emojis, including the squirt gun one. Peter didn’t seem to have noticed your glare and happily responded to the messages.

You let out an audible groan at the sight of his smile. The boyish, upwards quirk of his lips was nothing short of adorable and it physically pained you. Not only was Peter Parker smart and seemingly kind, but he was cute too. As well, at least from what you assumed from the messages, taken by one of the smartest girls in school. It simply wasn’t fair.

“Is Pissbag Parker annoying you?” Flash’s voice crept up from the seat behind you and made you jump slightly in your seat. Before you replied, Peter plucked out an earbud.

“Is everything okay?”

“You being too loud? Y/N here doesn’t seem to happy.” Flash’s taunts seemed to frighten Peter as he looked to you.

“N-No I’ve been quiet this whole time,” he stammered. Flash rolled his eyes and opened his mouth with a readied retort. You took the pause and stepped in.

“Peter’s been fine, Flash. A more agreeable bus partner than you are to John.” You gestured over to the skinny, black-haired boy Flash was sat beside. “Why don’t you be quiet?”

“Alright,” Flash said as he sat back down in his seat. You groaned again and turned back, only to have locked eyes with Peter once more.

“What? He was being annoying,” you said, justifying your rudeness.

“Y-yeah, n-no it’s jus-” Peter was cut off by a buzz. His phone lit up in his hand. Another message from MJ. You bit the inside of your cheek to quell the jealousy, but your envy spilled out before you could stop it.

“You better answer that,” you snapped before you settled back against the window. You let out a huff and hoped silently that the next few hours of the drive would go by quickly. It was torture, being sat next to Peter Parker and knowing full well just how more complete he was than you. Or, maybe it was the fact he was complete without you.

What do you think, my friends?? I hope you liked the first installment! I promise this story picks up, it’s a slow burn, like I said!

641 notes · View notes

f4liveblogarchives · 5 years ago

Text

Fantastic Four Vol. 1 Annual 1976

Special thanks to @maxwellelvis for taking most of this one off my hands!

Mon Aug 12 2019 [09:46 PM] maxwellelvis: Okay. This is that Event I told you about. [09:46 PM] Wack'd: You tell me about a lot of Events [09:48 PM] Wack'd: Man it's weird that the Fantastic Four have a Danger Room [09:48 PM] Aleph Null: yes but you can't fuck this one [09:48 PM] Wack'd: If this were the 80s and 90s when suddenly the X-Men were the next big thing and people were bending over backwards to make the Fantastic Four fit that mold, sure [09:48 PM] Wack'd: Here in the 70s it's just weird [09:49 PM] Wack'd: God this is such a mom joke

[09:50 PM] Wack'd: A running gag that's gone unacknowledged as of late is Ben interrupting Reed before he can finish his technobabble

[09:51 PM] Wack'd: It's always hard to know spur of the moment what's worth pointing out and what isn't, until suddenly you realize that a pattern has been continuing for like six issues and you haven't said anything [09:51 PM] Umbramatic: rip [09:52 PM] Wack'd: Reed didn't you build a robot to fix things for this express purpose?

[09:52 PM] Wack'd: You did, way back in #119! [09:53 PM] Wack'd: Roy Thomas remembers 1962 better than he remembers his own damn issues

[09:54 PM] Wack'd: "Wait a minute! You guys are Nazis!"

[09:55 PM] Umbramatic: KILL THE NAZIS KILL THE NAZIS [09:55 PM] maxwellelvis: *Venture Bros music* [09:56 PM] Wack'd: I don't think you are going to be embarrassed. Not because these guys are Nazis but because beating up Nazi cosplayers is still a good thing to do

[09:57 PM] Wack'd:

Sue: Why are these men still fighting World War II more than three decades after it ended? Johnny: You might as well ask the Late Late Show the same thing, Sue.

[09:57 PM] Wack'd: Johnny confirmed for a big fan of Irish television [09:58 PM] Umbramatic: pffft [09:59 PM] maxwellelvis: I've got my 2-in-1 TPB with me so I can read this along with you. [09:59 PM] Wack'd: AND NOW THE RESOLUTION OF A PLOTHOLE THAT HAS BEEN BOTHERING PEOPLE FOR YEARS [10:00 PM] Wack'd: Yes, Doom did take his time machine back. Reed just copied the blueprints first and then made a new one [10:00 PM] Wack'd: Problem solved [10:00 PM] Umbramatic: oh my [10:01 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, Reed is started to learn that the Nazis came from 1946 London. Willing to bet this is something to do with the vibranium that fell in there [10:01 PM] maxwellelvis: You skipped over the part where, when Reed and Sue first start puzzling out how the heck these guys got here, the next page shows Ben just WAILING on one of the troops and yelling at him for making his friends all upset. [10:02 PM] Wack'd: I skip over a lot of things if they insufficiently amuse me or aren't relevant to any particular narrative [10:02 PM] maxwellelvis: "Now see whatcha gone an' done, Otto? You got my ol' buddy here upset an' I ain't even hit ya yet." [10:02 PM] maxwellelvis: I know, but I just found that amusing. [10:04 PM] Wack'd: So the Watcher shows up but is doing his damndest not to interfere after having been put on trial over in Captain Marvel [10:05 PM] Wack'd: *siiiiiigh* Okay, guess we're doin' this

[10:05 PM] Wack'd: I hate "what if the Nazis won" stories that don't account for the historical reality that these guys were kind of dipshits [10:05 PM] Wack'd: I hate them so much [10:05 PM] Wack'd: THEY DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO CONQUER THE UNITED STATES [10:06 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, but these are comic book Nazis, remember that. [10:06 PM] Aleph Null: not now max [10:06 PM] maxwellelvis: Shutting up [10:07 PM] Umbramatic: oh great the one way you could make Cleveland worse [10:07 PM] Wack'd: Thomas knows juuuuuuust enough history to irritate me

[10:07 PM] Aleph Null: LMAO [10:07 PM] Larena: People like to pretend the Nazis were these tactical geniuses but they really fucking weren't [10:09 PM] Wack'd: Seriously Thomas knows the Lee/Kirby lore better than he knows his own

[10:09 PM] Umbramatic: heck [10:09 PM] Wack'd: Also, all the long-range missiles in the world aren't going to change their lack of tactical proficiency, or Ally advantages, or the fact that the ground war was going poorly... [10:10 PM] Wack'd: Whatever, the longer I complain about this the longer this issue lasts [10:10 PM] Wack'd: Watcher, satisfied Reed has cracked this, vanishes, and the Four head off into the past [10:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Smack-dab in the middle of a strategy planning session being overseen by THE INVADERS in London HQ. They're planning a raid of Castle Wolfenstein--sorry, Castle Cherbelle. [10:12 PM] Umbramatic: lel [10:13 PM] Wack'd: Hey Max? I know you're enjoying having the issue on hand but if I have to wait for you to say things it's gonna drag this out and, as mentioned, I'm not super into this one [10:13 PM] maxwellelvis: Sorry [10:13 PM] Wack'd: Anyway yeah, what he said

[10:14 PM] Wack'd: ...actually...do you wanna do this issue for me? And I'll just put relevant images where needed [10:14 PM] maxwellelvis: Sure. [10:14 PM] Wack'd: Thanks! [10:14 PM] maxwellelvis: So the inevitable fight happens. [10:14 PM] maxwellelvis: Some things of note: [10:14 PM] maxwellelvis: Namor is a hotheaded dick no matter what decade it is [10:14 PM] Wack'd:

[10:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Powerless or no, I feel like Namor calling Ben a Nazi would result in him being ripped limb from limb [10:15 PM] Wack'd: Hint that Ben is Jewish #354

[10:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Johnny is rather awestruck to see the Original Human Torch and Toro, and just barely manages to parry their last volley of fireballs [10:16 PM] maxwellelvis: Bucky is useless as always [10:16 PM] maxwellelvis: and Cap almost immediately realizes that the smart thing to do is to break up this little ballroom blitz. [10:16 PM] Wack'd: THE WINTER SOLDIER EVERYONE

[10:17 PM] maxwellelvis: Reed does the same, dousing the Torches and getting everyone to cool off. [10:18 PM] maxwellelvis: So the FF explain who, what, where, when, and why, a French Resistance liaison confirms that something rotten is up in Castle Cherelle, especially that the operation there is being overseen by one Baron Heinrich Zemo. [10:19 PM] Wack'd: ...was this really their catchphrase

[10:19 PM] maxwellelvis: Probably? [10:19 PM] Wack'd: Hehehehe [10:19 PM] Wack'd: What dorks [10:19 PM] maxwellelvis: I've not read much Invaders, but it seems like they're trying to channel the spirit of the All-Winners Squadron [10:20 PM] Wack'd: Every comic book website ever uses it as a headline when there's Invaders news [10:21 PM] maxwellelvis: So, they make it as far as France in one of Namor's airships, but are ambushed by Stukas. Toro is even more hotheaded than Johnny and wants to go out and flash-fry them, but Hammond tells him to stand down, they can't afford to give away their position to Zemo before they even reach the castle. [10:21 PM] Wack'd: This is even dorky or when you consider that the Invaders are an invention of the mid-century war comics scene [10:21 PM] Wack'd: And not a team that ever actually existed in the 40s [10:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Well, the All-Winners Squadron I think was a thing, not sure if they ever all teamed up though. It might have been before the JSA. [10:22 PM] Wack'd: Oh! Yep [10:22 PM] Umbramatic: oh huh [10:22 PM] Wack'd: Line-up did have Cap, Bucky, Namor, Toro, and Human Torch back in the 40s [10:23 PM] maxwellelvis: Just before the reach the castle, we get a shot of the Watcher's face in the clouds, indicating that yeah, they're on the right path. Bucky gets creeped out by it. Ben just feels even more nervous now. [10:23 PM] Wack'd: The name "Invaders" is a flagrant retcon though, as is the absence of Whizzer, Miss America, Blond Phantom, and Angel [10:23 PM] maxwellelvis: Miss America is elsewhere now. More on that later. [10:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Anyways, they land mostly undetected, have time for a character bit or two, and split up to cover more ground [10:24 PM] Wack'd: Well hang on! [10:24 PM] Wack'd: Don't gloss over character bits! Love character bits! [10:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Ahh [10:25 PM] Wack'd: Oh this is just exposition [10:25 PM] Wack'd: Moving on [10:25 PM] maxwellelvis: Reed realizes that while they're here, he and Ben are also just now signing up and gets goosebumps, which is rare for him. [10:25 PM] maxwellelvis: Namor professes his hatred of stealth tactics, showing yet again why he will be a Good King [10:26 PM] Wack'd: (So long as I'm tracking when the sliding timescale kicks in, the fact that Reed and Ben are still WWII vets is probably worth noting) [10:26 PM] maxwellelvis: Speaking of which, Reed also gets weirded out at teaming up with a younger Namor and scolds himself for playing Jealous Husband [10:26 PM] Wack'd: And Sue is apparently still a bit hot under the collar [10:27 PM] Wack'd: viagra joke

[10:27 PM] maxwellelvis: I can't blame her here. Dude just refuses to age. How DARE he be so good looking for so many decades? [10:27 PM] Wack'd: The Face of Beauty

[10:28 PM] maxwellelvis: The Torches all team up and it's... interesting at least in black and white to see how the pencils and inks try to make three guys with the same power all look distinct. [10:28 PM] Aleph Null: sue was a star trek fan and really liked spock [10:28 PM] Aleph Null: that's what i'm going with [10:28 PM] Wack'd: Historically what happens here [10:28 PM] maxwellelvis: How does it look in color, Wack'd? [10:29 PM] Wack'd: Is that Johnny is stuck with the all-red-with-stripes look, while Jim looks like actual flames are coming off him--in accordance with how he was drawn in the 40s [10:30 PM] maxwellelvis: And Toro has that look even moreso, at least here. [10:30 PM] Wack'd: I'm going to be completely honest, in this issue, I can't tell any of the three apart [10:30 PM] maxwellelvis: So Namor and the Richards' bust up a weapons plant. [10:30 PM] Wack'd: It's all down to dialogue quirks [10:31 PM] maxwellelvis: He floods the place in his temper. [10:31 PM] maxwellelvis: Skipping over that because the NEXT part is fun. [10:31 PM] maxwellelvis: We get to revisit the events that lead up to Cap getting frozen and Bucky's "death" [10:32 PM] maxwellelvis: Johnny's turn to get the willies as he realizes who these two guys are and what's going to happen to them, things he can't try to prevent or risk more damage to spacetime [10:34 PM] maxwellelvis: So they bust up central ops, then Cap has a confrontation with Zemo. The shield shatters the tank full of Adhesive X, trapping Zemo in his hood for the rest of his days, though in this retelling, Cap actually tries to help Zemo, who refuses and says that not only can nothing get it off him, but he'd rather die than surrender, or better yet, he'll just kill Cap. [10:35 PM] maxwellelvis: Zemo escapes down a tunnel and though Johnny CAN keep up with him, he simultaneously CAN'T because he has no way of knowing if the escape tunnel is booby-trapped and so he loses Zemo in his hesitation. [10:35 PM] maxwellelvis: Meanwhile, Ben and the other Torches take out the V2 bay. [10:36 PM] Wack'd: Yeah they're really going all in on the 60s look for all the Torches here [10:36 PM] maxwellelvis: One of the missiles gets fired, with Ben on it. Jim and Toro can't keep up, but Ben manages to sabotage the missile in midair and steer it back to the castle and pull a Slim Pickens. [10:37 PM] Wack'd: Just a little scruff of hair on the top to tell them apart

[10:37 PM] maxwellelvis: Which is weird because you wouldn't suspect that from just the lineart [10:37 PM] maxwellelvis: which is what I have. [10:37 PM] Wack'd:

[10:38 PM] maxwellelvis: "I thought I died an' went ta Heaven, but then how come I'm lookin' at YOUR ugly kisser, Stretcho?" They managed to get out in time and save Ben from scattering himself all over France. [10:39 PM] maxwellelvis: And assuming that no Vibranium survived the explosion, all is well that ends well. [10:39 PM] maxwellelvis: Well... [10:39 PM] Umbramatic: something something dr strangelove [10:39 PM] maxwellelvis: except Uatu is still in the Baxter Building [10:39 PM] Wack'd:

[10:40 PM] maxwellelvis: Ben realizes that, if the Watcher is still here, that means, that not all of the Vibranium was in the castle. Uatu says nothing, but subtly smiles, leading us in to Marvel Two-In-One Annual One [10:41 PM] Bocaj: Dammit Uatu [10:41 PM] Bocaj: And also the Watchers [10:41 PM] Bocaj: Just your presence is interfering [11:01 PM] maxwellelvis: Okay so, on to part 2 of this story: [11:01 PM] maxwellelvis: MARVEL TWO-IN-ONE ANNUAL #1 [11:03 PM] maxwellelvis: I'll just get the highlights out of the way. [11:04 PM] maxwellelvis: Whizzer. U-Man. Giant flying swastika. There's a guy called The Thin Man. Whizzer. The original Patriot. Ben throws himself off a flag pole. Roy Thomas shamelessly inserts himself into the story. Whizzer. [11:05 PM] maxwellelvis: Also there's a superhero called Blue Diamond. For some reason I thought that's funny in 2019.

#1976 #Roy Thomas #John Buscema #The Main Book

5 notes · View notes

hogwarts-is-my-wonderland · 5 years ago

Note

I'm a good writer, seriously!! lol - #1, 4, 5 and 10 ^_^

Thank you for the ask, @darknightfrombeyond! I’m gonna do a little (lie, a lot) of shameless self-promoting to build up my answers here.

1. of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?

My longest and most updated work has been my HP series, The Barton Saga. I divide the years by stories, and of the three I’ve republished so far, I’m the proudest of second year (or Book Two as I labelled it), which is called “The Phantom Behind Me.”

The ‘republished’ part wasn’t a misspelling. When I began writing fanfics, it was with this series but the first round of drafts were, like, shameless self-insert and awful writing. Back then, I’d started only because I wanted to develop my writing skills in English (it’s my second language) and I wanted to have fun while doing so. When I was accepted into an university, there was a considerable development in my writing and I, attached to the story, I decided to give it an honest try and develop the characters more.

What I did? I gave my OCs completly different personalities from their original ones. Anya Barton (my main muse) went from a timid girl to a girl with anger issues and once-mentioned OCs became supporting characters; they gained personalities while also becoming Anya’s moral compases (as in, they were gray characters who showed her there were more than just two paths to take). And instead of coming up with ideas on a whim, I had my defining plot twists/points written on a document.

Then my computer crashed and I lost all my work (I had up to sixth year). I was devasted and lost motivation. The story remained on hiatus for a while because my homework load increased and I was doing practice on the field. It was under this pressure that I decided to give it one final try—and rewrote the complete thing for a second time (and it is my current work).

This time I have the finest details down on a notebook. The major plot points are still the same, but some were moved or added to further develop the background characters. Since this second rewrite, I’ve updating two chapters (of at least 6,000 words) every four-to-six months and I’m currently in the beginning of third year.

Now, why is “The Phantom Behind Me” my favorite fic? It’s because I, who’d started this project as a learning experience, reached a new level of dept. Yes, I’m bragging a little because I reached it (or better said, fell into it) but I can’t seem to get out of it as much as I try.

You know what happens in Chamber of Secrets—the chamber is opened and Voldemort’s younger self is the culprit. But here, I shifted the other major plot point towards Anya—and somehow, the story went from a magical/suspenseful adventure to a psychological fight between a girl with trust/anger issues (and who has recently discovered a grim fact) and a sadistic teenager who, in his own way, believes has acted on account of Anya’s well-being (all while secretly plotting his evil plan). A lot is left unsaid in the writing, but what is implied it’s chilling and heartbreaking.

That story is completed but I’ve left the characters at a standstill. Friendships at the moment are fraught and Anya’s mind is balancing the thin line between reluctant acceptance and despair. Like I said before, I can’t seem to get her out of that funk. And funnily enough, I know this is realistic—who has ever gone through a painful experience and gotten over it in two months? No one, at least that I know.

So yes, this spiel is the reason why I both love and hate “The Phantom Behind Me” —I love it because it is my best work so far, but hate it because it hinders me from moving to what is supposed to be a fast-paced plot (in my case) with Prisoner of Azkaban.

4. what are some themes you love writing about?

I started out with romance (let’s be honest, who doesn’t with fandom?) but eventually chuked it (slightly) in favor of friendship and sisterhood.

Both are current themes in all my works—for example, with “To Be Human” (a Flash fic), I flat out start with the OC and her love interest at odds and focus on contrasting their developing relationship with the OC’s defining relationships, in particular her best friend and her surrogate father. With the Barton Saga, the endgame is Harry Potter/OC, but they obviously forge their bond through all the life-threatening adventures they face (not to mention they are still growing and learning to be their own persons) and Anya also navigates the waters with tentative friendships (like Marie Harlaown, her smart-yet-romantic-at-heart Raveclaw friend, or Theodore Nott, the Slytherin who reaches out to Anya in the hopes of escaping his father’s shadow).

The same happens with my other plot bunnies: my Doctor Who OC? She starts traveling with the Doctor because her best friend was kidnapped by an alien. My MCU OC? She’s Tony’s half-sister and the whole point of the series is how they bring out the best and worst out of each other while they learn to accept it and eventually grow to care deeply for the other.

5. what inspires you to write?

It depends on what I’m doing or what I’m watching. Generally, I work best under pressure because it matches the hint of urgency underlying my stories. But it usually takes for some good sources (like, maybe a fanfic I’m reading of the same fandom or watching the source itself) to motivate me and I’m back to my little notebook of ideas.

10. what are your strengths wrt writing?

I know how to develop an idea. No matter what I’m writing (it can be an essay or fiction), I always know where I start and where I end. Well, I don’t outright know, but before I write, I decide these two aspects. Personally, knowing where I’m going gives me a lot of leeway in developing the main idea/plot.

Another strength that I’ve noticed (one that I decided to take from my favorite HP author on wattpad, K.M. Bell) is taking an overused plot/plot twist and give it its own plot twist.

Examples in my stories (SPOILERS) (also shamelessly self-promoting):

1. Anya is an orphan because of Voldemort (shocking, I know), but she is actually comfortable with her life. She is not mistreated and has had, in fact, a very good education and relationship with the employees of her orphanage.

2. It’s Albus Dumbledore who gives Anya her Hogwarts letter (even more shocking, I hope) and convinces Anya from leaving her comfortable life with a tantalizing offer of knowledge about her parents. Like in true canon fashion, he witholds the important bits, but this is because he knows too much about her family and has been judging Anya in base of that. (This eventually will result with Anya no longer trusting him and taking matters into her hands.)

3. Hermione is Anya’s best friend. At first. Because they have a falling out at the end of their second year (read question 1 above) and while they remain friendly, they don’t trust each other with personal matters anymore.

4. SPOILER OF SPOILERS (but already revealed): Anya is Voldemort’s granddaughter. Her father, Alec Barton, who supposedly spent all of his adulthood fighting against Voldemort, is in fact his son.

Angelique Barton (Anya’s grandmother) hated Riddle throughout her childhood and gave a very twisted meaning to the quote “have your enemies closer” when she decided to enter a relationship with him. Angelique eventually realized how wrong her obssessive quest was and decided to take off with her son. Alec always knew his father’s identity, but it wasn’t until Voldemort made his first public appearance that he realized how deep both Riddle and Angelique had fallen and he, ashamed, decided to make a public stand against him under the belief that his good deeds would eventually outweight his parents’ mistakes.

(slight spoiler) It didn’t work out as expected—evidence number 1 being Anya.

•••

So sorry for the long answers but I was inspired!

#anya barton #oc: anya barton #thebartonsaga #series: the barton saga #fd: harry potter #ask me some stuff #ask me about my ocs #me answering some stuff

3 notes · View notes

darealbellabelleoftheball · 5 years ago

Text

Phantom Rambles

Chapter Twenty Six - The End of the Ghost’s Love Story

(WARNING: Major feels ahead... damn it, even the title is an oof!)

The previous chapter marks the conclusion of the written narrative which the Persian left behind him.

Notwithstanding the horrors of a situation which seemed definitely to abandon them to their deaths, M. de Chagny and his companion were saved by the sublime devotion of Christine Daae. And I had the rest of the story from the lips of the daroga himself.

When I went to see him, he was still living in his little flat in the Rue de Rivoli, opposite the Tuileries. He was very ill, and it required all my ardor as an historian pledged to the truth to persuade him to live the incredible tragedy over again for my benefit. His faithful old servant Darius showed me in to him. The daroga received me at a window overlooking the garden of the Tuileries. He still had his magnificent eyes, but his poor face looked very worn. He had shaved the whole of his head, which was usually covered with an astrakhan cap; he was dressed in a long, plain coat and amused himself by unconsciously twisting his thumbs inside the sleeves; but his mind was quite clear, and he told me his story with perfect lucidity.

It seems that, when he opened his eyes, the daroga found himself lying on a bed. M. de Chagny was on a sofa, beside the wardrobe. An angel and a devil were watching over them.

After the deceptions and illusions of the torture-chamber, the precision of the details of that quiet little middle-class room seemed to have been invented for the express purpose of puzzling the mind of the mortal rash enough to stray into that abode of living nightmare. The wooden bedstead, the waxed mahogany chairs, the chest of drawers, those brasses, the little square antimacassars carefully placed on the backs of the chairs, the clock on the mantelpiece

and the harmless-looking ebony caskets at either end, lastly, the whatnot filled with shells, with red pin-cushions, with mother-of-pearl boats and an enormous ostrich-egg, the whole discreetly lighted by a shaded lamp standing on a small round table: this collection of ugly, peaceable, reasonable furniture, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OPERA CELLARS, bewildered the imagination more than all the late fantastic happenings.

And the figure of the masked man seemed all the more formidable in this old-fashioned, neat and trim little frame. It bent down over the Persian and said, in his ear:

“Are you better, daroga? . . . You are looking at my furniture? . . . It is all that I have left of my poor unhappy mother.”

Christine Daae did not say a word: she moved about noiselessly, like a sister of charity, who had taken a vow of silence. She brought a cup of cordial, or of hot tea, he did not remember which. The man in the mask took it from her hands and gave it to the Persian. M. de Chagny was still sleeping.

Erik poured a drop of rum into the daroga’s cup and, pointing to the viscount, said:

“He came to himself long before we knew if you were still alive, daroga. He is quite well. He is asleep. We must not wake him.”

Erik left the room for a moment, and the Persian raised himself on his elbow, looked around him and saw Christine Daae sitting by the fireside. He spoke to her, called her, but he was still very weak and fell back on his pillow. Christine came to him, laid her hand on his forehead and went away again. And the Persian remembered that, as she went, she did not give a glance at M. de Chagny, who, it is true, was sleeping peacefully; and she sat down again in her chair by the chimney-corner, silent as a sister of charity who had taken a vow of silence.

Erik returned with some little bottles which he placed on the mantelpiece. And, again in a whisper, so as not to wake M. de Chagny, he said to the Persian, after sitting down and feeling his pulse:

“You are now saved, both of you. And soon I shall take you up to the surface of the earth, TO PLEASE MY WIFE.”

Thereupon he rose, without any further explanation, and disappeared once more.

The Persian now looked at Christine’s quiet profile under the lamp. She was reading a tiny book, with gilt edges, like a religious book. There are editions of THE IMITATION that look like that. The Persian still had in his ears the natural tone in which the other had said, “to please my wife.” Very gently, he called her again; but Christine was wrapped up in her book and did not hear him.

Erik returned, mixed the daroga a draft and advised him not to speak to “his wife” again nor to any one, BECAUSE IT MIGHT BE VERY DANGEROUS TO EVERYBODY’S HEALTH.

Eventually, the Persian fell asleep, like M. de Chagny, and did not wake until he was in his own room, nursed by his faithful Darius, who told him that, on the night before, he was found propped against the door of his flat, where he had been brought by a stranger, who rang the bell before going away.

As soon as the daroga recovered his strength and his wits, he sent to Count Philippe’s house to inquire after the viscount’s health. The answer was that the young man had not been seen and that Count Philippe was dead. His body was found on the bank of the Opera lake, on the Rue-Scribe side. The Persian remembered the requiem mass which he had heard from behind the wall of the torture-chamber, and had no doubt concerning the crime and the criminal. Knowing Erik as he did, he easily reconstructed the tragedy. Thinking that his brother had run away with Christine Daae, Philippe had dashed in pursuit of him along the Brussels Road, where he knew that everything was prepared for the elopement. Failing to find the pair, he hurried back to the Opera, remembered Raoul’s strange confidence about his fantastic rival and learned that the viscount had made every effort to enter the cellars of the theater and that he had disappeared, leaving his hat in the prima donna’s dressing-room beside an empty pistol-case. And the count, who no longer entertained any doubt of his brother’s madness, in his turn darted into that infernal underground maze. This was enough, in the Persian’s eyes, to explain the discovery of the Comte de Chagny’s corpse on the shore of the lake, where the siren, Erik’s siren, kept watch.

(So Erik killed a dude... oh well, It’s not the first time)

The Persian did not hesitate. He determined to inform the police. Now the case was in the hands of an examining-magistrate called Faure, an incredulous, commonplace, superficial sort of person, (I write as I think), with a mind utterly unprepared to receive a confidence of this kind. M. Faure took down the daroga’s depositions and proceeded to treat him as a madman.

Despairing of ever obtaining a hearing, the Persian sat down to write. As the police did not want his evidence, perhaps the press would be glad of it; and he had just written the last line of the narrative I have quoted in the preceding chapters, when Darius announced the visit of a stranger who refused his name, who would not show his face and declared simply that he did not intend to leave the place until he had spoken to the daroga.

The Persian at once felt who his singular visitor was and ordered him to be shown in. The daroga was right. It was the ghost, it was Erik!

He looked extremely weak and leaned against the wall, as though he were afraid of falling. Taking off his hat, he revealed a forehead white as wax. The rest of the horrible face was hidden by the mask.

The Persian rose to his feet as Erik entered.

“Murderer of Count Philippe, what have you done with his brother and Christine Daae?”

Erik staggered under this direct attack, kept silent for a moment, dragged himself to a chair and heaved a deep sigh. Then, speaking in short phrases and gasping for breath between the words:

“Daroga, don’t talk to me . . . about Count Philippe . . . He was dead . . . by the time . . . I left my house . . . he was dead . . . when . . . the siren sang . . . It was an . . . accident . . . a sad . . . a very sad . . . accident. He fell very awkwardly . . . but simply and naturally . . . into the lake! . . . ”

“You lie!” shouted the Persian.

Erik bowed his head and said:

“I have not come here . . . to talk about Count Philippe . . . but to tell you that . . . I am going . . . to die . . . ”

“Where are Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae?”

“I am going to die.”

“Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae?”

“Of love . . . daroga . . . I am dying . . . of love . . . That is how it is . . . loved her so! . . . And I love her still . . . daroga . . . and I am dying of love for her, I . . . I tell you! . . . If you knew how beautiful she was . . . when she let me kiss her . . . alive . . . It was the first . . . time, daroga, the first . . . time I ever kissed a woman . . . Yes, alive . . . I kissed her alive . . . and she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead!”

(AND HERE IS WHERE MY CRYING COMMENCED!!!)

The Persian shook Erik by the arm:

“Will you tell me if she is alive or dead.”

“Why do you shake me like that?” asked Erik, making an effort to speak more connectedly. “I tell you that I am going to die . . . Yes, I kissed her alive . . . ”

(ALSO HERE)

“And now she is dead?”

“I tell you I kissed her just like that, on her forehead . . . and she did not draw back her forehead from my lips! . . . Oh, she is a good girl! . . . As to her being dead, I don’t think so; but it has nothing to do with me . . . No, no, she is not dead! And no one shall touch a hair of her head! She is a good, honest girl, and she saved your life, daroga, at a moment when I would not have given twopence for your Persian skin. As a matter of fact, nobody bothered about you. Why were you there with that little chap? You would have died as well as he! My word, how she entreated me for her little chap! But I told her that, as she had turned the scorpion, she had, through that very fact, and of her own free will, become engaged to me and that she did not need to have two men engaged to her, which was true enough.

(AND HERE)

“As for you, you did not exist, you had ceased to exist, I tell you, and you were going to die with the other! . . . Only, mark me, daroga, when you were yelling like the devil, because of the water, Christine came to me with her beautiful blue eyes wide open, and swore to me, as she hoped to be saved, that she consented to be MY LIVING WIFE! . . . Until then, in the depths of her eyes, daroga, I had always seen my dead wife; it was the first time I saw MY LIVING WIFE there. She was sincere, as she hoped to be saved. She would not kill herself. It was a bargain . . . Half a minute later, all the water was back in the lake; and I had a hard job with you, daroga, for, upon my honor, I thought you were done for! . . . However! . . . There you were! . . . It was understood that I was to take you both up to the surface of the earth. When, at last, I cleared the Louis-Philippe room of you, I came back alone . . . ”

(TEARS TEARS TEARS!)

“What have you done with the Vicomte de Chagny?” asked the Persian, interrupting him.

“Ah, you see, daroga, I couldn’t carry HIM up like that, at once. . . . He was a hostage . . . But I could not keep him in the house on the lake, either, because of Christine; so I locked him up comfortably, I chained him up nicely — a whiff of the Mazenderan scent had left him as limp as a rag — in the Communists’ dungeon, which is in the most deserted and remote part of the Opera, below the fifth cellar, where no one ever comes, and where no one ever hears you. Then I came back to Christine, she was waiting for me.”

Erik here rose solemnly. Then he continued, but, as he spoke, he was overcome by all his former emotion and began to tremble like a leaf:

“Yes, she was waiting for me . . . waiting for me erect and alive, a real, living bride . . . as she hoped to be saved . . . And, when I . . . came forward, more timid than . . . a little child, she did not run away . . . no, no . . . she stayed . . . she waited for me . . . I even believe . . . daroga . . . that she put out her forehead . . . a little . . . oh, not much . . . just a little . . . like a living bride . . . And . . . and . . . I . . . kissed her! . . . I! . . . I! . . . I! . . . And she did not die! . . . Oh, how good it is, daroga, to kiss somebody on the forehead! . . . You can’t tell! . . . But I! I! . . . My mother, daroga, my poor, unhappy mother would never . . . let me kiss her . . . She used to run away . . . and throw me my mask! . . . Nor any other woman . . . ever, ever! . . . Ah, you can understand, my happiness was so great, I cried. And I fell at her feet, crying . . . and I kissed her feet . . . her little feet . . . crying. You’re crying, too, daroga . . . and she cried also . . . the angel cried! . . . ” Erik sobbed aloud and the Persian himself could not retain his tears in the presence of that masked man, who, with his shoulders shaking and his hands clutched at his chest, was moaning with pain and love by turns.

(I’M GETTING A TIME MACHINE AND ATTACKING ERIK’S STUPID MOTHER WHO’S WITH ME?!?!?)

“Yes, daroga . . . I felt her tears flow on my forehead . . . on mine, mine! . . . They were soft . . . they were sweet! . . . They trickled under my mask . . . they mingled with my tears in my eyes . . . yes . . . they flowed between my lips . . . Listen, daroga, listen to what I did . . . I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears . . . and she did not run away! . . . And she did not die! . . . She remained alive, weeping over me, with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer!”

And Erik fell into a chair, choking for breath: (Me while reading this)

“Ah, I am not going to die yet . . . presently I shall . . . but let me cry! . . . Listen, daroga . . . listen to this . . . While I was at her feet . . . I heard her say, ‘Poor, unhappy Erik!’ . . . AND SHE TOOK MY HAND! . . . I had become no more, you know, than a poor dog ready to die for her . . . I mean it, daroga! . . . I held in my hand a ring, a plain gold ring which I had given her . . . which she had lost . . . and which I had found again . . . a wedding-ring, you know . . . I slipped it into her little hand and said, ‘There! . . . Take it! . . . Take it for you . . . and him! . . . It shall be my wedding-present a present from your poor, unhappy Erik . . . I know you love the boy . . . don’t cry any more! . . . She asked me, in a very soft voice, what I meant . . . Then I made her understand that, where she was concerned, I was only a poor dog, ready to die for her . . . but that she could marry the young man when she pleased, because she had cried with me and mingled her tears with mine! . . . ”

Erik’s emotion was so great that he had to tell the Persian not to look at him, for he was choking and must take off his mask. The daroga went to the window and opened it. His heart was full of pity, but he took care to keep his eyes fixed on the trees in the Tuileries gardens, lest he should see the monster’s face.

“I went and released the young man,” Erik continued, “and told him to come with me to Christine . . . They kissed before me (guys I love you but that’s a bit harsh... ya’ll can wait!) in the Louis-Philippe room . . . Christine had my ring . . . I made Christine swear to come back, one night, when I was dead, crossing the lake from the Rue-Scribe side, and bury me in the greatest secrecy with the gold ring, which she was to wear until that moment. . . . I told her where she would find my body and what to do with it . . . Then Christine kissed me, for the first time, herself, here, on the forehead — don’t look, daroga! — here, on the forehead . . . on my forehead, mine — don’t look, daroga! — and they went off together . . . Christine had stopped crying . . . I alone cried . . . Daroga, daroga, if Christine keeps her promise, she will come back soon! . . . ”

The Persian asked him no questions. He was quite reassured as to the fate of Raoul Chagny and Christine Daae; no one could have doubted the word of the weeping Erik that night.

The monster resumed his mask and collected his strength to leave the daroga. He told him that, when he felt his end to be very near at hand, he would send him, in gratitude for the kindness which the Persian had once shown him, that which he held dearest in the world: all Christine Daae’s papers, which she had written for Raoul’s benefit and left with Erik, together with a few objects belonging to her, such as a pair of gloves, a shoe-buckle and two pocket-handkerchiefs. In reply to the Persian’s questions, Erik told him that the two young people, at soon as they found themselves free, had resolved to go and look for a priest in some lonely spot where they could hide their happiness and that, with this object in view, they had started from “the northern railway station of the world.” Lastly, Erik relied on the Persian, as soon as he received the promised relics and papers, to inform the young couple of his death and to advertise it in the EPOQUE.

That was all. The Persian saw Erik to the door of his flat, and Darius helped him down to the street. A cab was waiting for him. Erik stepped in; and the Persian, who had gone back to the window, heard him say to the driver:

“Go to the Opera.”

And the cab drove off into the night.

The Persian had seen the poor, unfortunate Erik for the last time. Three weeks later, the Epoque published this advertisement:

“Erik is dead.”

Me:

Tag

@angelofmusicsuggestions

@ask-the-angel-of-music

@potoincorrectquotes

@maladypond

@summerb4jc

@masksonmasks

@wheel-of-fish

@epwhales

@phantomgraphicnovel

@phantom-of-the-keurig

@phantomofthetrashcan

@phantom-of-the-uhhhpera

@shernoel

@madamedaae

@quill-of-doom

On to the Epilogue...

#Phantom Rambles #POTO #Booklr

5 notes · View notes

tessatechaitea · 5 years ago

Text

Batman Loves Superman #2

Hey DC! Stop portraying people who laugh as pure evil!

I don't know what genius centrist character speaks first in this comic book but fuck them.

People love to make statements that make them sound above it all. Statements that let them get away with sounding like a logical and rational person while really exposing the terrible things they believe. "Weapons are only tools." The "only" in that statement speaks volumes. They're defending weapons. Weapons are neutral. They're beyond blame. They're innocuous. Their follow-up statement providing evidence to bolster the first statement, "means to an end," shows that they don't give a fuck about context. What "end" are you trying to reach if your tools are weapons? Silverware are only tools as well, a means to an end, but we know that the end reached by silverware almost certainly is simply an empty tub of ice cream as opposed to a school full of murdered children. Oh no! Look at me bringing up murdered children to play on the emotions of the audience! How dare I bring in a real world example of an end that the means of these mere tools brings about! If your defense of weapons are that they're simply tools to be used to reach a particular end, you can't just ignore that the "end" you're discussing in the most general terms is violence. Weird that people who can't wait to be attacked so they can kill somebody and prove that their choice to carry a weapon was the right one often try to distance themselves from the inherent violence of their beloved weapon. The person speaking is Commissioner Gordon who laughed last issue so he's obviously a monster. I guess he's trying to point out that the real evil has been locked away at Arkham and the tools the evil people used aren't dangerous on their own which is why they've been locked in an armory outside Gotham City. He's come to liberate them with the help of a mystery person who has a sort of claw hand (Black Condor?!). A good writer would reveal who it was because they know that would get the reader really excited about Batman and Superman's confrontation with them. A good writer continually gives up surprising information. A mediocre writer hides as much as possible from the reader because it's the only way they can make a story suspenseful. Meanwhile, Shazam has begun calling himself "Earth's Mightiest Nightmare." See, he usually calls himself "Earth's Mightiest Mortal" so you can see how hilarious his wordplay is. But don't laugh because you don't want to appear wicked to the people around you.

Bullshit. Batman absolutely wants to fight him.

Shazam uses his magic lightning to try to destroy Batman but Batman just dodges because he probably trained with Himalayan Lightning Dodgers years ago. When Shazam uses his magic for evil, The Phantom Stranger's nose bleeds and Zatanna gets severe cramps. I guess magic in the DC Universe is like the Force in Star Wars. It's disturbing and shit. Superman almost gets the upper hand but, as I pointed out how the exciting battle might go last issue, Shazam turns back into Billy Batson to remind Superman he's fighting a child. So Superman is all, "Aw, shucks! I didn't mean nothing! You can fight it, Billy! Stop finding things funny!" But then Shazam is all, "SHAZAM! Fooled you!", and Superman is all, "D'oh!", and Batman is all, "SMDH." But remember! Batman is the king of the DC Universe! So he's definitely got a way to stop Shazam. I bet he's got a Bat-Monkey's Paw in his belt with two wishes left on it. Batman doesn't like to talk about the first wish and why Alfred now has to care for that tiny pianist living in the terrarium in the study. Batman doesn't use his Bat-Monkey's Paw to save the day but if you thought that idea was completely ludicrous, you'd better prepare your mind for Joshua Williamson's solution.

Batman finds the Batman Who Laughs Batwing, flies it up in the sky where Superman and Shazam are battling, and then, um, I don't know. He launches himself out the cockpit window against the g-forces of the accelerating Batwing? I suppose Batman learned to do this while training with the Sheep Hoppers of Aberdeen?

Um. Wait a second. Is Batman the greatest detective or am I because I think I just solved the mystery of the six heroes turned into Heroes Who Laugh.

The poison batarangs all have the symbols of the hero they're meant to infect on them! Just look more closely at the molds you found, idiots!

Shazam escapes because Superman held back and because Superman had to save Batman after Batman thought he could beat Shazam by crashing through the sturdy glass of a jet's cockpit while it was accelerating while only having a boomerang as a weapon. I guess Batman is only as smart as the writer writing him. He should have used his fucking Bat-Monkey's Paw. Later at the Bermuda Triangle Fortress of Solitude, Batman and Superman note that each Batarang Who Laughs has been infused with a specific Batman Who Laughs Juice based on the DNA of the intended victim. What they don't notice is that the Shazam one was a lightning bolt on it and the Superman one has the Kryponian symbol for hope (I know. Lame back story on the "S" on Supe's chest) on it and that they found the fucking molds for six Batarangs Who Laugh. Which means the answer to who else has been infected is in their stupid hands! Unless I'm supposed to believe that the symbols were carved onto the Batarangs Who Laugh after the fact. Which I totally don't even though that would probably be the way to do it seeing as how you're probably going to want to eventually make more than just six heroes laugh. My real opinion on this situation is that Joshua Williamson didn't actually think it through very well. Batman and Superman don't know what to do so they decide to pretend Superman was infected by Shazam. Shazam knows he didn't infect Superman but I'm sure he won't say anything to the Good Guys Who Laugh and ruin Batman and Superman's surprise when Superman goes undercover to work with the Batman Who Laughs. I'm sure failing to infect Superman so that Superman would have to pretend he's the Superman Who Laughs and thus free the Batman Who Laughs so he can find out the Batman Who Laughs plans is totally the Batman Who Laughs' plan. Because whatever the heroes do to stop the bad guys in the beginning of a story is always exactly what the bad guy knew the good guy would do. They're evil geniuses, remember! And Batman and Superman fell for it! Batman Loves Superman #2 Rating: C. If you didn't read this comic book yourself for a real world example, let me tell you how a mediocre writer writes a comic book: first, the bad guy attacks the heroes rather than doing something criminal or evil while trying to avoid the attention of the heroes. That's because a mediocre writer doesn't know how to write heroes discovering crimes being committed and instead need the villain to wave a lot and shout and say, "Hey! Jerks! I'm doing crime!" Or, better yet, have the criminal's entire plan simply be "I will antagonize the heroes for petty vengeance!" After that, the heroes will fail to stop the criminal. Depending on how long the story is, the heroes will either have to redouble their efforts and super believe in themselves to rally and win the day or the heroes will begin plans to defeat the villain. If they begin plans which make them seem like they're getting the upper hand, those plans will always be exactly what the villain wanted to happen in the first place. The heroes will then be defeated again just when they thought they were going to win! At that point, they'll probably need to do the rallying thing where they just fight a little bit harder than they did before and believe a little bit more than they believed before to show their strength of character and will. Because good always has stronger will and greater strength of character than evil! I really wish a writer would simply come up with a genius plan by the villain that isn't simply the villain saying, "They're falling right into my plans," after whatever the fuck bullshit the writer wrote. How these evil geniuses can plan such complicated and intricate plans that rely on knowing exactly what every hero is going to do is beyond my limited comprehension. I might even say it's contrived bullshit!

#Batman Loves Superman #DC Comics #DC #Joshua Williamson #David Marquez

2 notes · View notes

femchef · 5 years ago

Text

Suffer Bitch Ficlist

What This List Is: A collection of fics that I’ve read that absolutely fuck me up emotionally, and that I appreciated/loved/needed/have impacted me enough that I’ve saved them for re-reading. If these were paperbacks, the pages would have started falling out long before now.

That said, everything on this list has an emotional resolution (even the few incomplete ones I’ve chosen to include). Nothing on this list is the kind of emotional devastation that leaves the reader feeling empty and used* because honestly I need resolution, and I hate the type of #realism that makes me go “Well what was the fucking point, then”. This list is not comprehensive; if you’re in these fandoms, you’ve likely brushed up against them before. The majority of these authors are well-known, and some of these fics have been around longer than I’d like to be reminded.

So - what qualifies a fic for this list, anyway?

Tears and snotty sobbing. Everything on this list has made me cry and also given me emotional chills to some degree in order to make the cut.**

Before You Read: Take any warnings I list below seriously. If it’s something that will fuck you up in a bad way, then don’t read it. Don’t open the link. We all have things that are no-go’s. Full disclosure? I can’t read anything with graphic depictions of sexual assault, though mentions, allusions to, or mild/non-graphic depictions (ex. fade to black scenarios, fuzzy memory recall, etc.) don’t bother me. I take those tags and author’s notes seriously when I’m choosing what to read. Similarly, I’m pretty blasé about a lot of gore or body horror - except, specifically, when someone is rolling around in a pit of used needles (thanks for that, Saw movies). Guess what I avoid reading? In short: be a responsible reader. Don’t be self-destructive and proceed with however much caution you require.

*a life of smoke and silvered glass is an outlier and should not be counted.

**As a baseline, please keep in mind that the first time I read JRRT’s The Two Towers, I threw my book across the room when I got to the end. Also, the scene in Whale Rider where Paikea is on stage is the one time I started gross-sobbing in a movie theatre. Make of that what you will.

On to the list!

Suffer Bitch Ficlist:

(Presented to you in order of least impactful to most)

Invitation/Complication

It’s Green

Skin Deep

a life of smoke and silvered glass

Practicing Liars

Family Night

A Wicked Game

A Piercing Comfort

Loud and Clear

Humans and Ghosts

Digging for the Bones

Chivalry

In Care Of

A Year Like None Other

Stay

Under Wing

Distorting Equivalency

I’m Not Broken (I Can’t Be)

[The following are in no particular order because I couldn’t decide]

19. Sacrifices Arc

20. Phantom of Truth/Shadow of a Doubt

21. Like One Sundered Star

1. Invitation/Complication Series [Homestuck]

By saffronHeliotrope

You don’t need reminding that everyone is pairing off while you have village-bicycled your way through this group of morons as if you’d never run out of time.

It occurs to you that maybe you need new friends.

Word Count: 8,033

Status: Complete

This series contains two works, one taking place immediately after the other. Have fun angsting with Dave because he can’t seem to wrap his mind around this whole ot3 thing with John and Rose (on their wedding night, ofc). Consenting (if slightly dumb) adults and polyamory all around.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/132165

2. It’s Green [Harry Potter]

By Doodled93

Harry grows up working on his Aunt’s Garden and develops a love for it, meeting Samuel and eventually Max, who gives him a Mark of his own. This Mark is changing him, making him more different than he already was, and he loves it.

Word Count: 88,549

Status: WiP

This is marvelous kidfic - lots of good fluff. Except. You know - that one OC death that was so heart wrenching that you start bawling. The concept of magical tattoos in this fic is really nice, and Max - a prickly, rough and gruff tattoo artist is the best kind of unintentional parental mentor. The author hasn’t updated in some time, but they’ve also made a note that they’ll come back eventually when they’re ready to update to completion.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411709/chapters/683216

3. Skin Deep [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Batsutousai

Trisha and Van’s first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy.

Word Count: 17,083

Status: Complete

As you may have guessed from the description, this is a mostly canon AU featuring a trans Edward Elric. I love it, I appreciate how it was written, especially that it’s not a romantic plot - and not only was I crying after the first read, but rereads still give me the sniffles.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197400/chapters/18779738

4. a life of smoke and silvered glass [Harry Potter]

By dirgewithoutmusic

Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, smiling at them in that way of his, like he knew something you didn’t and he was proud of you for it. “Friends,” he began.

The door thudded open and the Marauders burst in, late and pink-cheeked with cold. The headmaster smiled at them, too, and Sirius gave a cheery little salute back.

Severus sunk lower in his chair, staring witheringly over his butterbeer. “You told Potter about it, too?”

“He might as well put all that energy to good use,” said Lily. “And to be accurate, I told Remus.”

“But Potter, really?” said Severus.

“He and Black cooked up a jinx that gives you a boil every time you say a slur to a Muggleborn,” said Lily. “It was either invite them to Alice’s war club or bake them cookies, and I know where my skills lie.”

Severus sniffed. “Don’t come crying to me if he tugs your pigtails.”

“Come crying to me if he pulls yours, and I’ll deck him.” said Lily.

(Slight AU in which Severus apologizes, tries harder, and stays friends with Lily.)

Word Count: 22,794

Status: Complete

This is the Severus Snape that canon wanted. The greatest tragedy that never has to explicitly be spelled out (and the reason this fic is so heartbreaking and infuriating) is that the end results are the same.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11457669

5. Practicing Liars [Harry Potter]

By Lomonaaeren

AU of HBP. Harry found out that he was Snape’s son two years ago, and he’s carefully concealed it. But now Snape is his Defense teacher, and Draco Malfoy is up to something, and Dumbledore is dying, and the final battle is coming up, and everything is getting very, very complicated.

Word Count: 206,306

Status: Complete

Oh boy, bring on the angst. A Severitus fic with a lot of bitter, petty feelings. Half Blood Prince is such a popular point in HP canon to veer off into AU territory (for good reason), and just - the timing, the missed opportunities, the growth. Lots of feelings. Also drarry.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990947/chapters/1955931

6. Family Night [Harry Potter]

By Celebony

As Hogwarts starts a quarterly Family Night, Harry is determined to take part. Facing the heartache of looking in all the wrong places, he’ll have to discover the true meaning of family, and that sometimes it comes from where you least expect it.

Word Count: 33,000

Status: Complete

Eventual Severitus fic. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional abuse, anxiety, self-destructive behavior, angst, grief, and (eventually) healing and recovery - this fic has it all. To me, I think this is the author’s best work, but obviously I have a preference. Fans of Remus tread carefully, this story may not be for you.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/2682144/1/Family-Night

7. A Wicked Game Series [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Tierfal

Roy has lucked into the all-expenses-paid vacation of his dreams - all he has to do is convince a bunch of happy couples that he’s head-over-heels in love with Ed Elric. What could possibly go wrong?

[Modern!AU].

Word Count: 64,884

Status: Story is Complete, but Series is still open for possible future oneshots/additions

Currently three completed works in the series. Roy and Ed as struggling grad students who share lab space stuck in a cabin full of obnoxious couples. This story resonates so well for me, because it was the first time I read something where a character actively struggles with depression where I really felt like someone GOT IT. So, be warned - suicide mentions, depression, angst, and a lot of puns. Safe Roy/Ed, though if that’s not your jam, better take a miss.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/372113

8. A Piercing Comfort [Harry Potter]

By talithan

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy’s patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact - he’s no longer sure he wants to.

Word Count: 44,566

Status: Complete

This fic has art by onthecount! It’s lovely. Anyway - Oh my god. When I talk about things resonating on some, soul-deep level. The way depression, and trauma, and PTSD is handled is... Well. I don’t go back to this often, but it’s because (for me) reading this fic is cleansing. Draco and Luna as therapists running a burgeoning wizarding practice is pretty great. If you couldn’t guess by reading the summary, this is an eventual drarry fic - and I’ll be upfront, if the idea of dating your former therapists squicks you out, don’t read. I like how it’s written out, it doesn’t feel inappropriate, or like any sort of power imbalance to me, but I can see where that wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea either.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857495

9. Loud and Clear Series [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Tierfal

The thing with Roy is founded on coffee snobbery and stupid text messages and seriously awesome makeout sessions in the car. Oh, and the love of a lifetime, or whatever.

Word Count: 280,924

Status: WiP

Currently there are six completed works, and one in-progress (with at least one more slated by the author). Also known as ‘The modern!AU Roy/Ed fluffball fic (of doom)’, there is emotional baggage/angst throughout that hints at darker things but nothing too dreadful until the fourth entry in the series, “Another One of Those Heartbreak Songs”. Anxiety, depression, war crimes, rape and consent (and, fyi, one of the best descriptions of what exactly enthusiastic consent IS, is in the current entry of the series, “The Boiling Point”) are all being dealt and felt in this story. Safe Roy/Ed fic that starts with a coffeehouse!AU style meetcute and follows the deepening relationship between Roy (established lawyer who works with veterans) and Ed (making the transition from struggling grad student to frazzled professor), and has a delightful dose of Al/Win tossed in. One of the most relatable things about this series is how all the terrible things about your worst relationships don’t really hit you until you’re smack in the middle of the best relationship you’ve ever had, and it’s ROUGH. Consider this your explicit warning: if mentions of rape/sexual abuse, or abusive ex’s set you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/167693

10. Humans and Ghosts [Danny Phantom]

By RedHeadsRock1010

If there was one thing Danny Fenton perfected since receiving his powers, it was how to pretend.

Word Count: 26,751

Status: Complete

ANGST. Angst and neglectful parents. Angst and neglectful parents and two siblings doing the best they can. Jazz is a real MVP in this story. Also blood and gore. And torture. Oh my god. Still makes me cry. Consider this your explicit warning: if mentions of torture, or neglectful/abusive parenting set you off, don’t read. While it’s not a religious fic, the impact of the parenting codes like some of the horror stories you might have heard about being in the closet and growing up with religious parents. You have been warned.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315771/chapters/27999459

11. Digging for the Bones [Harry Potter]

By Paganaidd

Rather than allowing Harry to stay at Diagon Alley after he blew up Aunt Marge, the ministry sends Harry back to the Dursley’s. Harry returns to school after a terrible summer, to find that he’s not the only one with this kind of secret. A student has been killed by his family. New screening measures are put into place by the Ministry: Every student must be given a medical exam and interview to look for child abuse. With Dumbledore facing an inquiry, Snape is entrusted with the task of making sure EVERYONE receives one.

Word Count: 203,178

Status: Complete

As the author warns before the fic, there is a character death in the first chapter. The story is an AU of Prisoner of Azkaban. Suicide, attempted suicide, and suicidal ideation are a big part of the story. Child abuse, death by child abuse (and the aftermath), ptsd, and the appalling effects of dementors on a castle full of kids are pretty central to the plot. Eventual Severitus. Also accidental necromancy. This is a monumental hurt/comfort fic and there are a LOT of feelings. And angst. Consider this your warning: if explicit attempted suicide, or suicidal thoughts set you off, don’t read. If mentions of physical abuse/child abuse set you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598019/chapters/1078847

12. Chivalry Series [Harry Potter]

When Harry appears at the Welcoming Feast wearing a glamor only Snape notices. Snape decides to find out what the glamor is hiding.

You, the guiltless, will pay for your father’s sins,

Roman, until you repair the decaying

Temples and shrines of the gods, and their

Images, filthy with blackening smoke.

When you act as servant of the gods, you rule:

From them all beginning, leave them the ending.

Horace, Odes III-6

Word Count: 123,467

Status: Series is marked as Ongoing, though individual stories are Complete

Welp. Angst, some explicit child abuse (specifically physically violent Vernon Dursley), grief and mourning, ptsd, accidental potions class disasters that lead to more angst, sickfic, hurt/comfort, blood, gore and violence, child neglect, and eventual found-family by way of Severitus and a developing sibling relationship between Harry and Luna. There is a lot to unpack here. The interactions between Harry, Luna and Severus are especially endearing and heartbreaking. This is your explicit warning: if explicit child abuse /physical abuse set you off, or if accidentally forced (yes, I know how that sounds) flashbacks set you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/12306

13. In Care Of

By Fangs_Fawn

During the summer before sixth year, Harry finds an injured bat in the garden and decides to try to heal it... and an unwilling Snape learns just what kind of a person Harry Potter really is.

Word Count: 45,319

Status: Complete

I’m gonna be upfront with you. Vernon and Dudley Dursley are very sadistic in this story. Tread with caution. That said, along with the angst this is a very solid hurt/comfort fic that is also a reciprocal hurt/comfort fic (in that, first Snape is helped, and then Harry). It’s a nice emotional exchange. Violence - explicit child abuse and torture, grief, and a very petulant animagus. This is your explicit warning: if physical torture/violence sets you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023625/chapters/2036909

14. Like None Other Series [Harry Potter]

By aspeninthesunlight

A letter from home? A letter from family? Well, Harry Potter knows he has neither, but all the same, it starts with a letter from Surrey. Whatever the Dursley’s have to say, it can’t be anything good; so Harry’s determined to ignore it. But then, his evil schoolmate rival spots the letter and his slimy excuse for a teacher intercepts it and forces him to read it. And that sends Harry down a path he’d never have walked on his own.

It will be a year of big changes, a year of great pain, and a year of confronting worst fears. It will be a year of surprising discoveries, of finding true strength, of finding out that first impressions of a person’s true colors do not always ring true. It will be a year of paradigm shifts.

And from the most unexpected sources, Harry will have a chance to have that which he has never known: a home... and a family.

A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after book 5.

Word Count: 1,465,418

Status: WiP

Currently there are two completed works in this series, and one ongoing. This is a ROLLERCOASTER, omg. Terminal illness, child abuse, explicit, agonizing torture, grief and mourning, bad coping mechanisms, self-harm, self-destructive behavior - hurt/comfort out the wazoo. Eventual Severitus, this is a good, substantial found-family fic with a developing sibling relationship between Harry and Draco. I really appreciate that Severus, Harry and Draco continue to step on each other’s toes as the story moves along. They get as much wrong as they get right, and the familial development is natural. Harry does struggle a bit with the newer experience of a paternal Severus weighted by the previous years of his antagonism and petty behavior. Severus struggles with balance, Draco struggles with extremes - behavior, feelings, intrusive thoughts - it’s a very well-rounded story. This is your explicit warning: The torture is incredibly graphic, and there are needles involved. If that sets you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/41198

15. Stay [Danny Phantom]

By jaeger_soul

Dash Baxter is finally a senior and this year isn’t supposed to be hard. With nothing waiting on him after graduation, he might as well sleep through his classes. He’s already got a job after high school’s over, what’s the point of reaching for anything more? He’s fine with what he has. But when ‘more’ comes in the form of a black-haired boy with similar problems to his own, can Dash really not try for it?

Word Count: 817,287

Status: WiP

This is technically a series, since the author has written one companion piece from another character’s perspective for chapter 27 of the story. Oh my god. Dash is a sweet, sweet cinnamon roll who’s just trying to muddle his way through, and terrible things happen to him. This is not Dash the bully from the canon series. The endgame ship is Dash/Danny, and it is very slow-burn. Lots of hurt/comfort in this fic, and the author’s OC’s are incredibly fleshed out and wonderfully developed. Anxiety and panic attacks are pretty heavy in this story. Small town-typical homophobic slurs, make an appearance. Teenagers having sex with other teenagers is a thing. Mentions of abortion and teen pregnancy and unwanted pregnancy all happen later on. Mentions of suicidal thoughts and attempted suicide are plot points. Abusive and abused ex partners. Child abuse - emotional, mental and physical - is the heavy hitter in this story. It is explicit and painful and heartbreaking. Consider this your warning. ABUSE. Explicit, agonizing depictions of trauma, and being used as a bargaining chip between two different but equally terrible parents - if any of that sets you off, DO NOT READ THIS STORY.

Read here:https://archiveofourown.org/series/646532

16. Under Wing [Harry Potter/Katekyou Hitman Reborn Crossover]

By Reighost

Prophesies were tricky things and lies are even trickier. Sirius’s death becomes a catalyst and Dumbledore’s lies crumple like a house of cards. Harry is left with a burning question... Who is he really? Crossover with Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

Word Count: 145,771

Status: WiP

This story goes hard on the angst right out of the gate. And I do mean hard. Oh my god. A literal mindfuck that will leave you gasping. Psychological manipulation and torture, mind rape, body horror, and non-sexual indecent treatment of a corpse to start with. However, there is a lot of good content in this hurt/comfort fic. The author has not only brought HP and KHR together but has blended elements and characters from Spirited Away, Cardcaptor Sakura and xxxHolic together in such a way that despite all the horror, there’s actually a lot of redeeming charm. You will never find a better interpretation of the Hibari family than the Hibari’s that Reighost writes about in her universes, and this story contains a flashback to the Hibari parents meetcute and it is adorable and hilarious. While this is a wip, it’s at a very good stopping point that’s more or less the end of a story arc - so don’t let the thoughts of a slow wip put you off. This is your warning: Mind-control and mind-control recovery, and gore, all quite explicit. If that sets you off, DO NOT READ. There’s a reason this story is so far down the list.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123387/chapters/2264363

17. Distorting Equivalency [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Ranowa Hikura

All Ed knows is that he’s been kidnapped by a madman.

Word Count: 173,000

Status: Complete

Go hard or go home. This is 27 chapters of kidnapping, explicit torture, and unethical alchemical experimentation with chimeras. All those feelings you have about Nina? Dial it up to eleven (to point out, Tucker and Nina are not featured characters in this story - unfortunately that disaster has already happened). A hurt/comfort fic with a very good resolution. Also becomes eventual Paternal!Roy and Ed. This is your warning: If explicit, repeated torture and body horror set you off, AVOID THIS FIC.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12116762/1/Distorting-Equivalency#end

18. I’m Not Broken (I Can’t Be) [Homestuck]

By [orphan_account]

Guys don’t get raped.

Okay, so maybe they do, sometimes. But that’s only when they’re ganged up in an alley way and shoved against a wall and get some other guy’s dick in their ass without permission. It’s forceful and bloody and masculine. At least, that’s how the media sells it.

But this isn’t rape.

When a girl buys you drinks and takes you home and crawls on top of you - well, that’s every guy’s wet dream.

When she’s grinding down onto you and her hands are holding yours to her breasts and she’s whispering filthy, filthy things into your ear, that’s not rape.

That’s not rape no matter how many times you say no.

Word Count: 33,386

Status: Complete

This is your explicit warning: Rape. The scene is non-graphic (lead-up with fade-to-black scenario) and takes place in the first chapter. Trauma, self-harm, suicidal ideation, destructive behavior, mentions of homophobia. If the summary of this story isn’t enough of a warning, then here you go. DO NOT READ if this is what sets you off. Hurt/comfort and ANGSTANGSTANGST aside, the aspect that I appreciate most about this story is how it deals with trying to come to terms with a trauma you don’t know how to articulate (to yourself or others). I don’t generally do stories that rely on miscommunication, but in this case, it makes sense: it’s less about miscommunication for the sake of plot, and more the lack of ability to articulate effectively, which. Yeah. Dark, angsty hurt/comfort that eventually ends on a positive, hopeful note. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777171/chapters/1462358?view_adult=true

DUN DUN DUN - THE BIG THREE

Let’s call it a three-way tie, because there is SO MUCH PAIN in each of these stories, honestly I really can’t pick an order for them.

19. Sacrifices Arc [Harry Potter]

By Lightning on the Wave

Harry’s twin Connor is the Boy Who Lived, and Harry is devoted to protecting him by making himself look ordinary. But certain people won’t let Harry stay in the shadows...

Word Count: 3,081,000

Status: Complete

Wrong Boy Who Lived. Severitus, Slytherin!Harry. Drarry. If those are on your radar, this may be the story for you. Just beware literally everything else. Torture, mind-control and manipulation, child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, neglect, rape, cannibalism (is it cannibalism when it’s a werewolf eating a human child), trauma, destructive behavior, violent loss of limb, blood, gore, viscera, necromancy - these are just some of the explicit things that take place in the series. There are eight works in the Sacrifices Arc, and they mirror the canon Harry Potter series in that they start at mild and slightly odd and become darker and more horrifying. This is a very, very long series, and it hits a lot of milestones within the HP fandom. There are lovely moments of tenderness, the OC’s are magnificent and well-developed, and while heavy-handed from time to time, the author explores notions of morality and spends a lot of time on magical theory and world-building. If you haven’t read Sacrifices Arc and want more information, google it’s tvtropes page. I would recommend doing so just to determine whether or not the story is safe for you to read if you’re concerned about it, because there is a LOT going on. Otherwise, start with the first story in the series (“Saving Connor”) and proceed with caution. You will absolutely be wrung out before you finish.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/u/895946/

20. Phantom of Truth/Shadow of a Doubt [Danny Phantom]

By HaiJu

Locked away in a secret government lab with Phantom as her subject, nothing stands between Maddie and the truth... except, perhaps, herself.

Word Count: 366,000

Status: Complete

Do you want to get fucking wrecked? Because this series will do it. Holy shit. I still can’t believe I got through it. This is so well-written and so. Fucking. Painful. The first entry in the series, Phantom of Truth, absolutely GOES THERE. The second entry is... everything that comes after. I don’t feel like it spoils anything to tell you that Maddie is not the person who captures Danny Phantom, or that she does not know he’s her son. Make of that what you will. Also, the first story does have a good resolution and does not end on a cliffhanger, so if you need to take a break after, you should. Bonding happens, and I wouldn’t call it Stockholm Syndrome, since it’s between Maddie and Danny, but I also wouldn’t say it doesn’t overlap. This story is absolute fucking angst. Shadow of a Doubt explores not only the traumatic repercussions on Maddie and Danny and their relationship, but on their friends, family, acquaintances and even enemies. There are some very good OC’s that come into play later on. You know, between all the angst and pain. Tread carefully: If you think you’ll be set off by torture and abuse, DO NOT READ THIS FIC. I cannot stress that enough.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/7476808/1/Phantom-of-Truth

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/9683169/1/Shadow-of-a-Doubt

[It’s worth mentioning that HaiJu has an ao3, but they haven’t finished crossposting Shadow of a Doubt to their account]

21. Like One Sundered Star Series [Homestuck]

By oriflamme

Who are these shining like one sundered star?

[Like kindled lights in untempestuous heaven,

Fair flower-like stars or the iron foam of fight.]

———

Teenage superheroes deal with hormones, mental illness, and extremely secretive guardians in a world of Horrorterrors, giant mutant lucii, mob violence, nightmares of a past life, warring anti-heroes, and asshole carapacians. Sburb AU divergence from Real Men Wear Tights.

Word Count: 1,712,155

Status: Complete

Welcome to the AU of an AU that did a double reach-around back into canon and became a reincarnation AU. It’s fucking excellent and also fucking traumatic. Body horror, blood and gore and viscera, torture, emotional manipulation, mind control, child abuse, emotional abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, attempted suicide/suicidal ideation, codependency, alcohol abuse, just to name a significant few. This is a huge pale-tango clusterfuck and it’s glorious. The world-building is insane. Richly developed OC’s, good use of languages, images that a slowly incorporated into a story of increasing breadth and complexity - and a fucking bombshell that will hit you really, really hard about midway through the story. So much pain. Again, this is another series with a tvtropes page that you should visit if you have any concerns before reading, because there is just that much going on. There are three works in this series, two are companions to the main body of work. Proceed with caution, because this will squeeze the life out of you.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/56682

Welp.

#fic recs #violence tw #rape tw #abuse tw #literally think of a tw and insert here #proceed with caution

8 notes · View notes

sambart93 · 6 years ago

Text

2018.10.26 and 29 Teito Tantei Kitan Zigomar [Review]

Official Website here Official Twitter here Press Coverage 1, 2, 3, 4

CAST and CHARACTERS

Hiroya as Z (Zigomar / Jigoma) Hattori Takeo as Mikasa Yumenosuke (Private Detective) Ebihara Yuka as Mutou Yuuko (Kidnapped by Zigoma) Hanaoka Meika as Hanasaki Mayuko (Mikasa's Assistant) Kadono Sho as Kitamiko Saburo (Chief Policeman) Tanaka Hiroki as Sumi Arata (Newbie Policeman) Oda Toshiki as Hira Tarou (Journalist)

Adachi Yuna as Tokage (meaning 'lizard' - Phantom Theif) Sawada Maria as Ando Ayako (Opera Singer)

Umehara Saeri as Aikawa Tamako (Tetsujiro's Girlfriend/Wife) Kuroki Kiko as Doi Shiori (Adopted Sister?) Tatsuya Yuu as Kobayashi Tetsujiro (Saved by Mikasa. Admires Mikasa.)

Working For Zigomar:

Hinagata Ui as Tsukishiro Tei Ogura Eriko as Sunaga Tokiko

Working for Fukiya:

Maruyama Raiden* as Gondawara Kouzou Odagiri Masayo as Harukara Meiko Souji Masato as Hitomi Hirosuke Kamidochi Kanki as Naoki Osamu

Terumi as Fukiya Kiyoshi

W Cast:

Kai Chiaru / Oota Saki as Saito Kanoko (Yuuko's Maid) Ashikaga Itaru / Oda Shunpei as Mifune Saburo (Powerful Politician, Yuuko's Husband) Ihara Yu / Umeda Shohei as Tsujioka Fumisuke (Works for Zigomar)

*DAMN that's a REALLY good name!

NON-SPOILER REVIEW Overall: My expectations for ASSH are always high and they ALWAYS met! They always make such amazing stages that are pleasing in so many ways! This stage was just as high quality as their previous ones; great in-depth amazing story with characters that you just want to know personally and in-depth - seriously, every single one of them I got very attached and/or interested in ! -, the darkness and the themes of the story was great, they always have a message that leaves you thinking, the costumes were well made and the theme was super interesting; and as per usual I was left wanting more, wanting another installment! I loved the messaged for this play which was very much 'how do we decide whether a character is good or bad?' because every character in this stage is flawed, every character in this has their reasons as to why their actions are justified, each character has a charming point that makes you believe their motives are the right ones. I just love that ASSH always poses such questions in their stages and has these types of characters. In true ASSH style, it is not a happy ending. They keep it partially raw and real and dark! The characters that stood out to me the most were obviously Zigomar and Mikasa, but I also got super invested in Hanasaki, Hirosuke, Naoki, Gonda and Kitamiko! I wanted to know so much more about them and their character scenes and arcs are great. Espeically for Gonda and Hirosuke; their arcs were GOLD. I was so invested and so affected by their storylines. I really hope we get a next installment, especially with the random mind-blowing reveal we get at the end of the play, and I am sure they'll find a way to kind of 'undo' what happens at the end so they can make a second stage out of this. It seriously deserves one and I seriously want one! Thank you ASSH for consistently producing and giving me great, solid stages! Rating: 9/10

SPOILER REVIEW

I have no idea where to start with this, as per bloody usual, but I shall try!

Aesthetics

First I loved the visuals of this stage; I love how the stage looked, I loved the costumes (and how all of them except Zigoma had words on parts of their costumes which were lines from the script); I loved the ending where letters dropped from the ceiling and onto the floor; it was very visually appealing. Although ONE actress did have boots on and at the beginning they were not equal length and OCD me found it very annoying xD but she soon fixed them by the next time she came back on stage.

Story

The Main Plot is: A guy who calls himself Zigoma is running around killing politicians and the police force want to know why and want to stop him before he kills anymore. Also during his first political kill, the kidnaps the wife of the politician and a private detective has been hired to find and save this now-widow. But what is unveiled is so much more...

This show actually had two versions; the Detectives Side and the Bad Guys Side which means there should be a scene change or two between the two shows.

I really enjoyed the story; I loved the discussion and themes of ‘who is right?’ and ‘Is everyone’s individual motive justifiable?’. And we had the mystery of ‘who is Zigoma?’ and ‘why is he doing it?’ and ‘why does he do it?’ which gave some really great punches and revelations. Also the plot twists and the shocker ending were just perfect! I did not see some of them coming and that ending really was a great cherry on the top of the cake! But I won’t spoil it too much right now.

One question/theme that runs throughout the play is whether Zigoma’s motives are justifiable or not. And we get to one part of the play where Mikasa comments ‘I think he’s just doing it for fun. Just because he can.’ but later one Zigoma expresses his desire to change the political climate, to change those in power, almost like a Guy Fawkes (info here) type of character. But then right at the end, when all hope for Zigoma escaping is gone, he cracks. He starts to laugh insanely and then yells at Mikasa ‘you were right! You saw right through me! All along I was doing it just because it’s fun!’. This somewhat internally breaks Mikasa because he didn’t want to be right; he wanted a more logical reason as to why Zigoma did what he did. It’s such a good moment and it really makes the audience think: was Zigoma lying in this moment of insanity? Was he killing off politicians because they were simply shitty, corrupt politicians? Or was he really just doing it because he could? Also, it makes you think, if he was doing it because those in power were corrupt, doesn’t that then make him a hero and not a villain? This theme really messed with my brain and really made me think and I LOVED IT!

There is another scene in the play, that also makes you question Zigoma’s motives. Right at the beginning there is the very first murder of a politician (Mifune Saburo) which everyone thinks Zigoma did because the body discovered was covered in a towel that had the mark ‘Z’ on it. But then at about the mid-point of the story, we learn that in fact the maid of the house had killed the politician because he was not only abusing his wife but was also raping the maid, and she has finally had enough and killed him. However, that night Zigoma had actually come with the intention of killing him anyway so he tells the maid to tell everyone ‘this was my kill!’ and so left the flag on the body. We also find out later that the reason why Zigoma kidnapped Mifune’s wife (Mutou Yuuko) after the murder, is because they actually were original betrothed to each other before she got forced into her marriage with Mifune, which is just like ‘he saved her?! he protected her?! He still loves her?!’ so again, it creates all these questions and such in your brain that you just have to think through and make a decision on. Also once Yuuko realises who Zigoma is, she takes his side completely and helps him out, so she too still has feelings for him! Just waaaahhh?! But then in another twist of fate, right at the end he kills her anyway!! To which I was like ‘waaaahhh?!’ even more!

I adore the ending so much; not the fact that everyone dies at the end, but how it’s visually shown. They die due to a bomb going off, destroying the building they’re in (again, very Guy Fawkes like!), and just as they all drop dead, letters from the ceiling fall down onto their bodies, and the flags at the back of the stage drop down too. I absolutely loved this visual touch! It was amazing and beautiful.

Another plot twist that had me like ‘HOLY HELL! WHAT?!’ was at the very last scene. But first, some back story: the very first scene of the stage is the actor for Hira Tarou, explaining the backstory and setting of the story. Then IN the story, we meet Tarou who is a very good journalist who just happens to know that Mikasa and co. are trying to stop Zigoma. Because Tarou has some inside sources, they let him join their adventure and story. So we don’t really suspect him for the most part, but we do have one moment in the play where Mikasa asks ‘how do you know all this (secret) stuff?’ and Tarou simply replies ‘well I have informants in the police’ and they just brush it off. But right at the very end, when everyone else is dead, on the floor, on the stage, Tarou comes to the center to finish the narration of the story; he reveals (right at the end!!) that he is in fact Edogawa Ranpo, shuts the book in his hand, black out, stage finishes. I was like ‘wait... he’s.... EDOGAWA RANPO!?!?’ again, MIND BLOWN! I did not see that coming at all! And it was such a good, juicy and powerful reveal! It was so good!

Characters

I really liked how everyone got involved in the main story, and I loved all the different ‘factions’ within the story too! We had about six different groups within the story. We had the Detective and his sidekick alongside the police; Zigoma and his posse of followers; bystanders who get super nosey in the Detective’s business; A trio friendship between Meiko, Hirosuke and Naoki; An ambitious opera singer and a Phantom Thief who somehow get caught up in it all without meaning to; Kiyoshi and his clan of servants. I think those are the six main groups. So you can see the big dynamic difference between some and the similarities between others.

The richness and depth of these characters you get from them even though we barely spend two hours with them on stage is just amazing. I fell for some characters so quickly and so hard! I was completely invested in every single one of them! I seriously don’t understand how ASSH consistently makes big casts, but still manages to make every character so rich and different! I don’t understand how we haven’t had a mass crossover of character traits yet in any of their stages! It is just amazing! Characters that I automatically loved just because I love the actors were: Zigoma and Arata. Characters who completely won my heart over throughout the play were: Tokage, Hirosuke, Mikasa, Kitamiko and Hanasaki! I loved all the characters to be honest but the MVP, the one who I ended up completely loving and rooting for and took a lot of my attention was Hirosuke! I don’t know why; maybe because he was visually pleasing, but also his character development was so great! I also loved his relationship with some of the characters! Just... I need to go into spoilers to flail about this boy! So are you ready?

So the main story with Hirosuke is that he and his two close/best friends (Meiko and Naoki) decided to work for Fukiya so that they could have a better and less poor life. But it turns out Fukiya is the worst, and Fukiya orders Meiko and Hirosuke to murder Naoki because he discovers that Naoki is trying to trick and betray him. So while Meiko begs him not to kill Naoki, Hirosuke does it anyway. This obviously breaks his heart and tears him apart. Later on we see Meiko asking Hirosuke to stop following Fukiya, to leave with her and it get away from all this but Hirosuke follows orders, ‘this is for the better’ and shoots her dead. This obviously destroys him too and after killing her. I loved seeing the internal struggle that he had within himself; does he follow his boss? does he follow his heart? does he follow his friends? does he put power over friendship first. I love how we see it eat him from the inside! And that is why he is my favourite! I also love the little scene he has with Tokage at the beginning; she’s the phantom thief who’s being stealing things for Fukiya, but she has never shown her face - she always has him at gun point or knife point, forcing him to look the other way and never see her face. And the beginning of this play, he says ‘just once, could I see your face?’, but it’s not until right at the very end when all the characters have gathered together, that he finally gets to see her, and you can see how happy he is! I love the friendship/slight-romance we have between these two.

Relating to those three, there is a butler, Gondawara, who works alongside Hirosuke and Meiko, and also tries to protect them (and others) many times. I absolutely adored him. He had such a short role but I love how he protected Saito Kanoko and then persuades her to eventually tell the truth about Mifune’s death. He was also the one who stood in the way of Hirosuke and Tei, trying to get Hirosuke to come to his senses and giving him a chance to run away but this ultimately leads to Gonda’s death. He was such a sweet character and I’m so sad he died, and so quickly too!

Gonda’s death is thanks to Tei who has a short but very interesting story line! The girl is addicted to Opium. And once on the opium, she becomes absolutely obsessed with killing. So much so that she attacked and killed Gonda. The cops also try to stop her by shooting her in the leg but because of the drugs, she doesn’t feel it and instead just starts dragging herself across the floor. She finally drags herself back to Zigoma and her crew, but Zigoma deems her insane and that she has lost the real reason why they are killing people, so Zigoma kills her.

Of course, I can’t talk about the characters without talking about our young, new detective Arata, who also goes by the nickname of ‘Suspender-kun’ because he always wears suspenders! He was adorable! He was a fresh, raring to go new detective and I absolutely loved his relationship with his boss, Saburo! They were such a hilarious comedy duo! And Hiroki/Arata on his own did a damn good job being funny and hilarious too! Also Saburo himself was hilarious as a solo artist!

Let me tell you about their ridiculousness: In the very first scene where they introduce themselves, Saburo is completely over the top and takes off his jacket and just drops it on the floor, then later on Arata throws it back to him but he lets it drop. The timing was absolutely perfect and was absolutely hilarious! Another scene is when Arata decides he’s going to seriously help and Saburo finally calls him ‘Arata’ instead of ‘suspender-kun’, so he gets really happy and really dramatic and holds himself against a wall, and Saburo comes over and comments ‘you idiot’ before slapping him on the butt xD

Another character I enjoyed was the Tantei’s assistant: Hanasaki Mayuko. She was an adorable dork!! I absolutely adored her! And she really shone during her adlibbed comedy scenes! Not only did she get the crowd laughing, but even Mikasa’s actor Hattori was having a hard time keeping a straight face at times xD She was so cute and funny and sweet and adorable! I really liked her! One scene that stood out to me for her: Hanasaki and the Youkan (a thick, jellied Japanese dessert made of red bean paste, agar, and sugar)! Kanoko brings Youkan to the detective as a thanks for saving her and for all their hard work on trying to find Yuuko. But turns out Hanasaki LOVES youkan so she tries to eat all of it through various ways, either offering to Mikasa (who she knows will say no), and quickly trying to eat another piece straight after. But because of this, natural comedy came out where she was trying to say her lines while her mouth was full of food xD also trying to be like ‘oh Mikasa doesn’t like youkan. DO YOU? No you don’t! Didn’t think so! More for me!!’ which was so cute.

Speaking of Mikasa, about part-way through the play, there’s a flashback-slash-fever dream where Mikasa is talking to Zigoma, and Zigoma is like ‘what’s the real reason you became a private detective instead of a policemen? You know deep down the real reason why!’ so that makes me think maybe his father had died on the job and that’s why he became a mysterious private detective instead? Or was his father corrupt as well as the police force at the time? So many questions!

One plot twist that I really enjoyed was the reveal that Tokage and Ando Ayako were actually sisters!! When Ayako starts yelling ‘Onee-san // Big Sister’ at one point, I was like “OMG THEY ARE SISTERS?!?!?!’. I totally didn’t see it coming! Especially because, for most of the play Ayako is horrible towards Tokage and is very cold, almost as if they had never met and just got off on the wrong foot straight away! But later on we learn that they do care for each other and they had to pretend not to know each other, in case Tokage ever got caught because she didn’t want to endanger her little sister. I was MIND BLOWN.

There is another twist where Aikawa actually betrays everyone and was working for Zigoma the whole time. Unfortunately I had already cottoned on a few scenes before hand that she was secretly in on it. I don’t know how I knew but I just felt like ‘there must be some other reason why this family of three are in the story’ and there are scenes where she’s left to protect Shioro at time, and Shiori is DUMB AS FUCK, so I wouldn’t put it past Shiori to not notice what Aikawa was up to and too dumb to realise when Aikawa had gone off to plot or make something. So I naturally figured either Shiori was pretending to be this dumb, stupid sister, or Aikawa was a secret mastermind or Tesujiro was pretending to admire Mikasa so he could set him up. I knew something was going on with those three.

Other Notable Moments/Scenes

In true ASSH style we had the whole cast dancing during the opening song. Luckily, Hiroki on the far left when the dance opening song starts.

There is a slow motion fighting scene which I thought was so cool!!! I really enjoyed the slow-mo moment. Also we got live singing! Ando Ayako’s actress Sawada Maria actually sang the opera songs live to us and she also sings the ending song live which is amazing! Her voice is very, very good!!

I really loved how Saburo and Mikasa decide to team up at the end even though they had some differences throughout the play, but for the greater good (!) they team up in the finale!

Some things that specifically happened during my First Show (Detective Version):

I was first row and on the very last seat to the left. The gap between my feet and the stage was practically 0.1cm! So I was super duper close to all the actors! Which was for the most part absolutely terrifying (especially during the fight scenes). However, it did have it’s good moment which I will list right here: towards the end of the show, Hiroki gets into a fight which causes him to get thrown and pinned against a wall. That wall was RIGHT in front of me and my head was at the perfect level for Hiroki’s waist, which means that his butt was right in front of me!!!! Also he smelt really nice xD another moment was the final showdown between Tantei Mikasa and Zigoma, they were fighting and again, they slammed against the wall right next to me!! I was parts freaking out and parts overwhelmed and overjoyed xD

We had a double curtain call, and the ending aisatsu was by Hanasaki who was totally cute and she got very shy and couldn’t remember what she wanted to say. But everyone was giggling at her adorableness xD She was stood next to Hiroki and they were both so cute alongside each other!

Of course it was filming day!! When do I never go on filming day?! xD I am ALWAYS at filming day!!! xD

Second Show (Bad Guy Version):

I went to the senshuuraku (the finale) of this show! They really went all out on the comedy in this final show! Hiroki got hit so hard by Saburo that he started laughing to the side of the stage. Then later Saburo went to pull and release his suspenders and pretended to it the first time, but on the second time he actually let go and it was really hard. Hiroki was rubbing his chest in pain.

Maybe I just didn’t notice in the first show but I feel like in this show, the three people working for Zigoma got their moment of explaining what they wanted and why they joined Zigoma. Maybe this was the scene especially created for this version of the show, or maybe I just missed it the first time round. But I loved getting to know where they came from, their backgrounds and why they joined him.

Another Higawari (daily change) was Gonda saying an Acrostic Poem for Ji-Go-Ma. In the second show, he got a huge round of applause after his Ji-Go-Ma poem because it was just too funny and very good. Unfortunately, I do no remember it *cries*

I also noticed in this second show that there is a moment where Arata and Hanasaki fall in love for a moment after she accidentally touches his arm and that motivates him to help Mikasa on his case some more xD

While in the first show we had Saburo just complete miss catching his jacket through his own lack of calculations, this time it was through Hiroki’s fault; Saburo couldn’t reach far enough to grab his jacket from Hiroki’s throw, it was hilarious.

Another higawari is when Saburo is trying to talk to Arata but Arata get’s super angry straight away: Saburo: Let’s go brat. Arata: *super angry* What did you say?!?! Saburo: Let’s go you brat! Arata: *calms down* Ohh I didn’t hear you! Saburo: *shock* IS THAT WHY YOU GOT MAD?! The scene ends with Hiroki asking Saburo to slap his arm, and they did this wave with their arms before walking off stage xD

In both shows, when Zigoma first appears in front of Yuuko in her house before kidnapping her, he walks in with brandy in a brandy glass and drinks it. In every other show the glass has been half full so it was easy for him to drink. BUT, in this final show Zigoma walked on stage with a GLASS FULL of brandy, and it took him a while to finish it. It was obvious who’d seen the show before because we were the ones cracking up as soon as he walked on stage! So as you can tell, they really went all out on the comedy in this final show! It wasn’t being filmed, they might as well do ridiculous shit and have fun xD

Just before the youkan scene, Hanasaki is in the kitchen making a mess, but then walks on stage and she uses a crashing noise to her advantage. She kept replaying the crash music as Mikasa tried to talk. She tried so hard to get Mikasa’s actor to burst out in laughter but didn’t work; we (the audience) were all dying though.

It was a triple curtain call where we got an announcement for the next stage (the next installment of KimiSaga - review here)!! In March!!! I was (and am!) so excited!!

GOODS

And that’s everything! Sorry it took so damn long to get these reviews out (and I’m still a shit ton behind!) but bare with me xD

1 note · View note