#frozen musical review

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 11: Angst In My Pants (The Decline And Fall Of Me)

Album two of two in the series of Sparks' immaculate new wave releases! Iconic in every way imaginable from the music to the artwork to ONE music video. I think it's more musically (and lyrically!) varied and mature in tone (besides... a couple exceptions. Yes, an album called Angst In My Pants) than its predecessor, which is a very good development. These songs will leave you chuckling and bopping along and also pondering the intricacies of human existence. Ok, maybe that's a bit of a stretch, but it can't be denied that behind much of the earnestness and theatricality here, there's lots of quite emotional, introspective and thought-provoking stuff to be found.

Thematically, this album goes everywhere. One moment we are in Sextown U.S.A, the next we're visiting Disneyland, California where we make friends among people and animals. On a more serious note though, I think the biggest emotional whiplash one could experience between different songs on an album is between Mickey Mouse and Sherlock Holmes. And yet there's still a very prominent element of humour, even in those songs that are on the more serious or dramatic end of the scale.

I said a few days ago that I'd try to return to the topic of Sparks' brand of humour and how it works, but I don't feel intelligent enough to analyse that today. And I'm pretty sure that from what I've seen, Other People And The Maels Themselves (Said It Better Than Me). So instead, as a little send-off, please remember: if a mouse can be special, well, SO CAN YOU!!! 🫵

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

Angst In My Pants: literally no other song like this one in this world. I can't tell why that is but it's just. So great

I Predict: I had a weird kind of effect where I heard this song in my early days of Sparking and it felt VEEERY familiar to me. I think it was due to the genre / style here, it reminded me of something specific, at first I thought it was very glam rock but I'm pretty sure that this is not it but something else (and I don't know what to call it in that case!). Anyway, banger song

Tarzan And Jane: whoa wait, am I already skipping to the third-to-last song on the tracklist?? I guess I am. This one's great and one of my early favs too (I wonder how long it will take until I run out of things to say about my fav songs and it all just becomes this list of 'it's very good and I like it a lot. next.')

The Decline And Fall Of Me: it's great!! I like it!! And, of course, "check out my pizzas"

Eaten By The Monster Of Love: personal reasons that lead to a printed and framed mini-comic of my making appearing on my desk, which features some of the lyrics of this song, which caused me to have it permanently stuck in my head for a pretty long period of time. And this way I ended up liking it much much more than I did in the beginning, when it still seemed somehow pretty unremarkable to me

[mud-fm]

Thoughts upon last night - 11/02/2025

Musical night

Act 1: location

After receiving the tickets for the musical night, a compilation of some of the most beloved musical songs performed live, the day or more so the night has come to attend. What stunned me most was the more than adequate location. I originally hadn't put much thought into the whereabouts, expecting a theater maybe, yes, or a modern community hall that offers enough space, likely. But my architecture and romantique heart and soul wasn't prepared for entering a castle. We arrived at night and the surroundings lay in shadows but even through the shade of night I could only marvel. I was positively giddy to say the least and cursed the fact that we didn't had enough time beforehand so I could venture through the building and it's vicinity. The entry hall was marvelous with a ceiling fresco greeting me, sparkling floors and stone steps cushioned by velvety brown carpets. Seeing such a beautiful old building in full glory and well maintained makes me wonder why we ever moved on from this style of architecture and it's fascinating effect on the mood. Slightly regreting my choice in clothing, I had to envision myself in long flowy robes and puffy fur coats sweeping through the halls (think Severus Snape but with Doflamingos sparkle but in the 1800s). Gaping at the interior I made the staff of the night chuckle before she greeted us inside the actual audience room and my eyes that were already sparkling, beamed. Seats, first row on the balcony, above the others and just slightly below the private balcony that presumably was meant for kings and queens. I'm still stunned and, by all gods, I want to live there. Or like this. So much so that even though illness haunts my body I am motivated enough to clean, organize and plan out my apartment further...

Act 2: the show

8 dancers and 6 singers brought the some of the most popular songs from musicals to life with their key performances. Sitting in on the balcony I couldn't help but shed a tear when the night opened with one of my favourite songs "a million dreams" from The Greatest Showman. Followed by the Phantom of the Opera, an amazing display of Tanz der Vampire, Rocky, Mamma Mia! which had the audience buzzing, The Lion King, Frozen, Cats and many more. Wonderful voices that brought across the magic of the originals really nicely. The stamina of the singers to bring a whole bunch of different character to life for 3 hours is fascinating and it makes me sad that the audience had been relatively dry in some aspects

Act 3: my thoughts

After roughly 3 hours, a whole spectrum of genres, characters and voices I can say one thing very clearly: musicals need atmosphere. How so and what exactly do I mean by that? While I found myself marveling at all performances I noticed that especially those musicals that have a lot of "un human" and fantasy elements fell short - not as a result of lack of enthusiasm but as a product of not having the setting, the atmosphere, the surroundings at hand. Those musicals that thrive on cinematic storytelling, immersing the viewer with all senses into its world and magic struggled to be translated well into a short form performance. So to my big dismay The Lion King whos musical soundtracks shakes me to tears regularly and is in my point of view one of the greatest musicals out there fell short. Similarly, Frozen too was almost underwhelming - again, not because of the singers lacking enthusiasm - but simply because they only had limited resources when it comes to stage production. Knowing the original, the lack of world creating probs, costumes, magic, etc. Felt disengaged. While on the other side, those musicals centered around human emotions rather than fantastical visuals thrived. Here the singing itself solely carries the narrative and therefore is more compatible with being performed even out of its intended stage setting. The only exception for this might have been the performance of "memory" from Cats as Grizabellas performance is even in the original a solo, a stand alone and song of less immersive and more so expressive qualities - though I would have loved to see some of the other actors as cats in the background, mourning (and the Rum Tum Tugger). So while Sister Act, Mamma Mia! and Moulin Rouge did amazing, The Lion King, Cats and Frozen's gripping effect suffered a little

Epilog:

Ending this I can say it was a lovely evening for all senses. I am fueled with new ideas, inspiration, awe, plans for living in a castle, a new travel destination I'll have to revisit and musicals I haven't yet watched but really want to (and a cold but let's ignore this). For those who are into musicals, theater and Co. I can only recommend to watch one of these compilations of live performed songs to get both reminded of the beautiful shows you have experienced already as well as find some you might want to view in the future

-me

[gbhbl]

Live Review: Frozen Soul with Creeping Death, Foreseen and Overthrow at The Underworld, Camden, London (12/02/2024)

Its a chilly Monday night in London and things are about to get a lot colder as we head to The Underworld to check out the icy death metal outfit, Frozen Soul. The Texas based band are a few dates into a huge European tour and this is the first of 5 shows here in the UK with Bristol, Manchester, Glasgow and Birmingham next in line before they head to mainland Europe. Well known for their…

[discolesbo]

has someone seen joker 2 and is it actually this bad?

[rickchung]

Disney's Frozen x Queen Elizabeth Theatre x Downtown. (via Deen van Meer)

Broadway Across Canada's North American touring production of the Disney princess musical favourite adapted from the 2013 animated film (that was in turn inspired by Danish author Hans Christian Andersen's 1844 fairy tale, "The Snow Queen") jumps off the stage with an incredible theatrical design to every element involved. A standout cast and high production value lift the material beyond a contemporary fantasy about the power of sisterhood into a magically thrilling all-around experience suited for anyone of any age. Caroline Bowman (pictured) and Lauren Nicole Chapman as Elsa and Anna are particularly sensational as sisters with a stellar company around them. All this is further enhanced by some truly wondrous stage effects that both dazzle and delight.

Running live on stage until July 21.

[devonellington]

Tues. Sept. 26, 2023: Residency Ready

image courtesy of fancycrave1 via pixabay.com Tuesday, September 26, 2023 Waxing Moon Pluto, Saturn, Neptune, Chiron, Uranus, Jupiter Retrograde Cloudy and cool Did you have a good weekend? Today’s serial episode is from Legerdemain: Episode 123: Back to the Infirmary – as a Visitor Shelley takes a gamble with Jed Smythe. Legerdemain Serial Link Legerdemain Website Link I wrote the…

[mashtatosworld]

the pursuit

summary: you met him on the set of 'lets not fall in love' - yet you did everything but that

*the start of the 'back to you' series

You’d barely stepped onto set when you felt it - the way his gaze found you immediately, lingering long enough to make your stomach tighten.

Gdragon didn’t introduce himself at first.

He didn’t need to.

He just leaned against the edge of a prop wall, cigarette tucked between his fingers, assessing you.

You weren’t an actress - you’d made that abundantly clear when your agency first floated the idea of you being GDragon’s partner for the Let’s Not Fall In Love video.

But they assured you it would be natural, just soft glances and playful moments, no choreography, no lines - just chemistry.

The kind that could make viewers believe something was there even if nothing was.

And he made that easy.

You tried not to look at him too much between takes. Tried not to focus on the way his gaze felt heavy on your skin, even when you weren’t the one in front of the camera.

GDragon was effortless - a natural magnet, pulling attention with every charming grin. You were… not.

You were new to the industry.

Shiny and unsure, trying to fit yourself into the shape of someone who belonged here.

The rain scene was the worst of it.

Cold water cascading down as you held each other, his hand firm on your waist, the other trailing along your wrist until your fingers intertwined. His touch was light, barely there - but somehow you felt it everywhere.

It was like your body was naturally drawn to his heat.

You were shivering, trying to hide it, smile frozen and cheeks aching. You could feel his nose skim the side of your face, his damp shirt clinging to his chest.

The camera rolled, but all you could think about was how his thumb felt on your hip, firm, and anchoring.

“Cut! Take a break everyone.”

You exhaled sharply, stepping back so fast you almost tripped over the cables. Jiyong stayed still, watching you, tongue running over his lower lip - like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

It was only when you were wrapped in a towel, sat to the side, waiting for them to release you as they reviewed the footage that he finally approached.

You didn’t expect him to notice your notebook.

You’d been scribbling between takes, half to distract yourself from how intensely aware you were of him, and half because songwriting was your real passion - even if your label didn’t believe you were ready yet.

Jiyong slid onto the bench beside you, casually resting his arms on his legs as he glanced at your lap. “What are you always writing in there?”

You froze. “Just... ideas.”

“For songs?” His brow lifted, curiosity flickering through the playful smile.

You nodded, heart hammering. “I want to focus more on music than modelling. But it's not any good - ”

“Let me see.” He held out his hand, palm up, fingers adorned with silver rings.

You hesitated.

He’d written some of the most iconic songs of the decade - his praise could make or break you. But something about the way he was watching you, genuinely interested, made you slowly pass him the notebook.

He read in silence, brow furrowed, thumb tracing the corner of the page. When he looked up, his smile had softened. “These are good.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, closing the notebook and tapping it against his knee. “Come to my studio sometime. I’ll help.”

“Why would you do that?” You meant it as a genuine question. He was at the peak of his career, churning out songs for his solo album and band. And you were... a ripple in his ocean.

His smile turned lazy, teasing. “Because I want to.”

And somehow, that was enough.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You told yourself he’d forget - that it was just a line, something to pass the time between takes. But a day later, your phone lit up with a notification.

[unknown number] Still want help? - Jiyong

You debated ignoring it.

Every article you’d ever read about him flashed through your mind - the scandals, on-again-off-again exes, the late-night clubs. But you rationalised your thoughts.

It wasn't like you were going to get personal with him. This would be strictly business...

So you messaged back.

And you were glad you had ignored the influence of media headlines because the first session was when you truly met Jiyong, not GDragon.

You hovered near the door of his studio, notebook clutched to your chest like a shield. He was different here - hair messy, hoodie low over his face, cigarette dangling from his fingers and a casual smile that only grew when he saw you.

“You’re late.”

“I wasn’t sure I should come.”

His smile didn’t falter. “I'm glad you did.”

You sat beside him, the scent of leather and smoke and something distinctly him wrapping around you. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just played a beat, soft and stripped down, and said, “Sing something.”

Your throat was dry, hands shaking - but you did.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

It was always late when he called.

You’d be lying in bed, makeup off, notebook balanced on your knees, when your phone would light up.

[jiyong] Studio tonight x

No please. No explanation. Just an offer you somehow always accepted.

He’d be sprawled on the couch, cigarette smouldering in the ashtray, laptop open with half-finished beats echoing softly.

“I've got a new idea,” he’d say, voice rough from hours of talking to no one.

You’d sit next to him - never too close, yet as time would pass his knee would somehow be pressed against yours. It felt deliberate. Everything with him felt deliberate.

You were writing one night - half asleep, pen dragging across the page - when you felt it.

His fingers.

Just the tips, playing with the ends of your hair. Light, curious, like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

He didn’t hide his interest. Not even a little.

There was no slow-build - no confusing signals.

Jiyong wanted you, in a way that made it impossible to pretend you were imagining things.

“You’re scared of me.” He said it casually, during your third session after he had pulled your chair closer to his - dragging it by the legs.

“No, I’m not.”

“Liar.”

You glared at him, but he just grinned, all bad-boy charm and impossible warmth. “You’ll get used to me.”

He wasn’t wrong.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The song - your song - dropped a week after Let’s Not Fall In Love hit the charts.

He had gifted it to you, passing over the rights entirely despite his effort and inputs. It was yours to do as you pleased.

You decided against a music video or promotional press, just a quiet link posted on Jiyong’s Instagram at 3:14am with no caption.

By noon, it was trending.

The comments were split - some fans insisting you were the new girl he was seeing, others trying to figure out who the hell you were. No one could agree on what you were to him. A muse? A collaborator? A random model who got lucky?

You knew the truth - you were his project.

His distraction.

The shiny new thing he couldn’t stop poking at.

You kept a measured distance, even as your inbox filled with interview requests and producers asking to meet. You hadn’t expected this to happen - not so fast, not this loud.

Your agency was thrilled.

They called you "lucky."

You weren’t sure luck was the word.

This was a pursuit.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The rumours started when someone caught you leaving his building at 5am, his jacket hanging off your shoulders.

Your agency had freaked out.

“It’s nothing,” you said in a meeting the next day, heart pounding as you forced yourself to sound casual. “We’re just writing.”

They didn’t believe you.

You didn’t believe you.

Because “just writing” didn’t explain the way he leaned into you when you sat at the mic, adjusting your headphones himself, fingers lingering against your jaw.

“Just writing” didn’t explain how he always walked you to the elevator, even when there were a dozen staff around who could’ve done it.

“Just writing” didn’t explain why your heart pounded every time you saw his name light up your phone.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The first time you performed your duet you were shaking so badly you nearly dropped the mic.

It was meant to be a one-off stage appearence.

A fan treat.

A casual collaboration.

But he added it as a staple part of his setlist.

The moment Jiyong walked out, hand in pocket, signature smirk pulling at his lips, the crowd screamed like they already knew what was to come.

He stood too close.

His eyes followed your every move.

And when the bridge hit, his hand found your lower back, pulling you into him like the cameras didn’t exist.

When the performance ended, he leaned down and whispered, “See? Told you we’re perfect together.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The internet spiralled.

Edits of you and Jiyong flooded every corner of social media - the rain scene from the music video, the too-close moments on stage, the way his hand never quite left your body. Every time he looked at you, fans slowed it down, captioning it:

He’s obsessed.

He’s soft.

He’s in love.

You tried to brush it off.

At first, you were worried he’d hate the rumours - the idea of being tied to a rookie, someone unproven, someone with no legacy.

But instead, he leaned into it.

He started requesting you at festivals.

He refused to perform the song with anyone else.

And during interviews, when asked about his ideal type, he’d just laugh - low and knowing - and say, “Who do you think?”

He was pursuing you in public, no apologies, no caution.

And it worked.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Within months, the rumours stopped being rumours.

You were inseparable - a constant presence at each other’s sides, onstage and off. The industry might’ve called you reckless, but neither of you cared.

It was fast.

It was intense.

It was everything.

And by the time he slipped that ring on your finger, eight months after your first songs release - in a quiet moment between tour stops, both of you tangled up in the same hotel bed you hadn’t left all day - you knew.

You’d never stood a chance.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

no wonder she's so loved, diva was ten years in the making!

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 11)

Hello again, and welcome to part 11! I cannot believe I'm up to 11 parts on this thing with more to come (though not too many more, I think). That means I've recommended 200 fics/series so far as I've been doing 20 recs per post. Tbh I'm actually pretty proud of myself over this because it means I've been showing incredible restraint throughout this process in only recommending my favoritiest-favorites as opposed to every single fic I can remember liking even a little bit (don't worry, that will be the next series lol). For reference, I currently have 2,610 Sterek bookmarks in total on AO3 and have so far reviewed 1,749 of them to get to those select 200. That is wild to me lol.

BUT ANYHOOZLE.

As always, thank you all again for the support you've shown this series. I hope you're all having as good a day as you can, if not a great day. Smoochies and squeezies from me to you!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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not enough by Jana_C (G | 1/1 | 1,569)

Sometimes love is just not enough.

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A Quiet Night (Not in the Cards) by Delightful_I_Am (T | 1/1 | 4,369)

"Derek fucking Hale!"

The shout rang through the bar and for a long moment nobody moved. It was like something out of a movie. Everything just stopped; the music cut off; one of the servers had frozen mid-pour. Grady would have laughed if he weren't holding his breath. The kid straightened his shirt, a glimpse of stomach showing the curling edges of a tattoo on his hip, and strode toward where Hale was sitting in the dark corner. As one, every supe in the place turned to see Hale's reaction; the last person to try to confront Hale in here had left with a broken hand and a whispered threat that the next time Hale would rip their throat out. With his teeth. Unsurprisingly, Hale's face was set in its usual glower, although it seemed a bit softer around the eyes. It took Grady a second to realise Hale knew the kid.

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Painted Wooden Letters by DiscontentedWinter (T | 5/5 | 10,013)

All he ever wanted to be was Stiles Stilinski.

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Babcia Knows Best by thepsychicclam (T | 1/1 | 11,887)

Stiles takes his grandmother to bingo every Thursday. Now there's a new guy calling out the numbers, and his grandmother has decided to set them up.

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god knows I am dissonance by scepticallyopenminded (E | 1/1 | 24,239)

Stiles has zero regrets – zero, absolutely none – about leaving Beacon Hills after he graduates from Stanford. He knows his dad is good, has friends, has the force, has Melissa, and knows that even if he and Mel weren’t dating, that Scott has the sheriff’s back, will take care of him, keep him safe.

He knows Lydia has no regrets, either, and the two of them hop a plane less than a week after the graduation ceremony, two full weeks before their lease in Menlo Park is even up. They pack up a U-Haul, go back to Beacon Hills for two nights, and then they’re off to LAX, three suitcases and two carry-ons between the both of them.

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There's joy not far from here by Talis89 (M | 9/9 | 28,354)

“I’m coming,” Derek calls, shrugging on a sweater. The first few days of March had been warm, but the weather has turned in the last week - winter's last ‘fuck you’ - and Derek is expecting the icy blast as the warm air rushes out the front door. “What—” His breath freezes in his throat.

“Hey there, Sourwolf.”

Stiles is standing on the front porch— Derek’s front porch— his right hand waved in a half wave.

“Stiles?” Derek almost takes a step back. “What are you— how?”

~

Two years after Derek runs from Beacon Hills, Stiles turns up at his front door looking for his own escape. What follows is a story of adventure, healing and finding a place to call home.

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The Heart Remains The Same by heartsdesire459 (T | 1/1 | 28,797)

When Stiles left for college, he already knew the truth... Stiles wasn't a 'he' at all. Dropped into a new, exciting, liberating level of freedom that came with going to college somewhere without anyone who knew her, Stiles began to explore her true self and began her quest to become the girl she knew she had always been. Her fears of everyone's reactions back home led to skipping the first holiday... and then a second. And then the next.

Two and a half years after leaving Beacon Hills - two and a half years spent living an entire new life as a trans!woman - a call in the night forces Stiles to go back to Beacon Hills to face the people she had left and the friends she had abandoned.

“Stiles… it’s your dad.”

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The Second Coming (of Werewolf Jesus) by lupinus, uraneia (E | 3/3 | 40,104)

Stiles was enjoying his senior year until his crazy English teacher decided he made the best candidate to gestate Derek's kid. Now Stiles is a seventeen-year-old pregnant dude and he and Derek have to figure their shit out, because in nine months they are going to be tied together for the rest of their lives.

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Burning House by 1jet2unknown, nottoolateforthegame (E | 15/15 | 41,007)

“Why am I here? What was the point of showing me all that? It’s not like it’s going to change anything!”

You can change it.

 “How?!”

 You can change it if you go back.

“Then take me back!”

Stiles’s stomach lurched as the world tilted and stretched sideways.

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Now as Ever (All That Is and Has Been) by venis_envy (E | 16/16 | 52,270)

Stiles can't remember what happened to rearrange the time-space continuum, or how he ended up being pulled into the past. All he knows is that he's there now, in 2003 Beacon Hills, with a teenage werewolf and a possibly-crazy veterinarian as his only allies.

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Words Cannot Espresso How Much You Bean to Me by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (T | 1/1 | 68,368)

“You’re late,” Derek informed him coldly, jaw clenched. He barely even moved his mouth to speak. This guy was seriously scary.

And because Stiles was suicidal, he said, “No, I’m Stiles.”

The look he got could’ve curdled milk. Stiles even noticed that Derek’s muscles were tensing, arms bulging even more and wow this guy was scary and hot but mostly scary holy shit.

“You’re not funny,” Derek informed him coldly.

Stiles shrugged. “I think that’s a matter of opinion.”

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Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill (M | 10/10 | 70,382)

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." -----

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

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What Goes Around by KouriArashi (M | 16/16 | 71,451)

“Well,” Stiles says, “if they’re going to hunt werewolves, I’m going to hunt them.”

It’s a ridiculous statement from a ten-year-old, but he’s obviously one hundred percent sincere. For the first time since the fire, Peter feels life stir inside him, feels purpose. It’s kismet, clearly. He’ll never meet the child he would have had with Olivia. Instead he’s met this boy, this brilliant, determined, cynical child with a world of potential.

Peter kneels down in front of him so they’re at eye level. “How do you feel about doing that together?”

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The Law of the Jungle by Nutellargh (E | 1/1 | 75,854)

After the Kanima fiasco is over, Derek takes his three betas and leaves Beacon Hills. Stiles knows he could contact him if needed, but they barely keep in touch, and only about mundane things. 4 years later, after a steady stream of supernatural issues they somehow manage to deal with, Lydia is the one to contact Derek when Stiles starts looking worse and worse everyday, with no idea as to how or why. The Slavic monster draining Stiles' energy points them to a much bigger issue Beacon Hills has been troubled with for years.

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Windows by dr_girlfriend (E | 28/28 | 83,266)

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking.

Excerpt:

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

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where thou art, that is home series by ShanaStoryteller (8 works | NR-E | 94,108)

Hi, Tin here. Once again, Tumblr is deciding not to allow me to post any of the individual stories and summaries here, so here's a very brief summary without me waxing poetic about the series:

This is a canon-divergent AU series that acts as a sort of "fix it" for the universe without sacrificing the things we know and love from canon (imo). It begins with Stiles (and Scott as his co-pilot) managing to prevent the Hale fire from taking out the whole of the Hale pack and then moves forward from there. Lots of BAMF!Everyone abound and interesting takes on existing tropes and canon elements. I urge you all to check it out.

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The Taming of the Wolf by Amethystina (T | 15/15 | 105,352)

When Stiles seeks shelter from the rain in a rundown house in the middle of the woods, the last thing he expects is to find that someone is actually living there. Even less that the person in question isn't quite human. Derek is something else entirely.

Before he knows it, Stiles is thrown into a world he knows very little about and while he enjoys the unlikely and complex relationship that sparks between them, it's obvious that something darker is lurking in the shadows. Something from Derek's past that is just waiting to tear them apart.

Chapters 13, 14 and 15 are bonus chapters, featuring the same story but from Derek's POV (a total of 40 700 words). This is basically two fics in one.

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Anthracite by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) (E | 16/16 | 106,673)

It's been a quiet few years, and the McCall Pack has grown and settled. But, when the Hale Pack return to Beacon Hills they find Scott isn't as welcoming as they had hoped.

Soon they, Stiles, and Lydia, find out that not everything about the McCall Pack is as it has always seemed.

♠

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All Bark and No Bite series by MoonlitMemories (3 works | NR-M | 157,246)

1. Protect and Serve (M | 17/17 | 150,789) Stiles discovers the Nemeton starting to grow again in the preserve on Hale land. What does that mean for the pack? More importantly: why does the Nemeton seem so attached to Stiles? 2. Baby makes Three (G | 1/1 | 3,202) Erica finds out she's pregnant. 3. One of Us (NR | 1/1 | 3,255) Malia doesn't know what to do with the Hale pack.

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Get You The Moon by A ClosedFicIsNeverRead (E | 30/30 | 180,785)

Derek looked up in surprise to note that they were taking a private jet. Dread settled into his gut like a stone. “It has a cage, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly, and noted the subtle changes in his family members’ posture. “Is it for me?” Cora gave him a pleading look and nodded. “Is it because of what you’re going to tell me?” he asked, voice like gravel. Another nod confirmed it. Stiles. Oh, GOD. It had to be Stiles. Derek would not lose control over anyone else in Beacon Hills and they damned well knew it.

- OR -

The one where Derek has been gone for 6 months building a new life, finds out that Stiles is being assaulted by Theo, so he comes back to Beacon Hills to kick some serious ass and rescue the loudmouthed human who stole his heart.

(You will need ALL the tissues, but it will have a happy ending by the time all is said and done!)

Title inspired by song: ‘Get You The Moon’ by Kina ft. Snow

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[thoughtfulchaos773]

Refire the Sets

I'll try my best to break down what I love about this scene.

The whip pan from Sydney to Carmy- telling us something is coming. The transition gives us this disoriented feeling.

Oh, and the symbolism of the dish that triggers Carmy- they could have used any of the dishes to start a response, but they chose the one from Carmy's past.

The acting: Carmy stutters, and that frustrates him even more that he can't get the words out, Sydney's reaction to each fuck is Sydney trying to make sense of his anger.

The camera moves to Sydney and the clock behind her heightens the intensity.

When Carmy pleads, please just refire, just refire, please, the climbing music lowers a bit- signaling that this may not repeat the 1x07 review moment since Carmy tries to calm himself down.

And it won't be a repeat because Sydney speaks up for herself this time; she's not frozen in the wake of his anger; instead, she's ready to point out the reasons behind the error.

Writing: The quick dialogue happening at once- when Sydney and Carmy argue, their words collide, but they can catch everything the other is saying and react to it. There's no stone left unturned between Sydney and Carmy because they're listening to every word that comes out of their mouth.

While Sydney tells him what he was doing that caused the dead fish. Carmy hears it and reacts, and this time, it has nothing to do with the guy by the window. It has everything to do with Sydney. The rollercoaster from pleading just refire to the sudden explosion of Syd.Syd. I love how that's written and Jeremy's power behind calling her name.

The camera zooms in on Carmy when he says each word- Refire the sets. They've been sitting here for fucking ever. Refire. The camera gives us the feeling of heightened anxiety that's still there. But there's another whip pan when Sydney warns Carmy Watch it dude.

With Sydney's warning, the music returns to normal and at a normal volume. The camera focuses on Carmy again- but this time it's not as close- his panic attack is over.

The greatest part about this- this whole scene was only about 45 seconds, and it put us in a different world. That's what it always seems like with Sydney and Carmy- whether an argument or coming closer- it's a scene that slows down or speeds up the story's pace.

Kudos to the cinematography, writing, directing, and acting in this short amount of time.

[nova-amor]

𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮 [𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 [𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦], 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 [𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥]

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟐.𝟓𝐤

house parties had never really been your thing. all throughout high school and college, you had preferred to stay tucked away in your room, binge-watching a movie series or reviewing lesson sheets while your friends spent their friday and saturday evenings at the nearest party. there had been no strong appeal to spending your nights out drunk, sandwiched between sweaty bodies while the worst techno music overwhelmed your eardrums.

and, it wasn't like your friends made fun of you or tried to pressure you to tag along to such parties either— they had quickly learned to respect your recluse behavior and would often just send you videos or photos throughout the night to keep you in the loop, which you always found enjoyment out of.

so, it definitely came as a shock to everyone when you had willingly volunteered to join them for a night out one random evening. you had elected yourself as the designated driver for the evening, which they had very much appreciated with the rising price increases in third-party riding apps. upon arrival at the party, you had slipped away into the backyard, attempting to escape from the nauseating aroma of cheap booze, sweat, and other foul body odors. 

the music was also a bit quieter outside, fewer people to interact with, and a soft golden glow from the porch lights that was just enough to illuminate the texts from the book you were reading. having found peace amongst the chaos of the house party, you were thoroughly enjoying the moment up until it was rudely interrupted by the host.

a ice cold liquid spilled atop your head, a high-pitched screech of surprise eliciting from the depths of your throat as the sickly sweet scent of booze-filled your nostrils. your vision was blurred, your head sweeping left and right before your sight finally landed on the culprit behind you.

“oh, shit, i'm so sorry,” satoru gojo gasped, his artic blue eyes forming into the size of saucers. it was as if he was frozen into place, muscle tensed and pale cheeks heated up with a scarlet tint. “shit, i didn't mean to spill— someone bumped into me and— fuck, i'm so sorry—”

his rambling pissed you off, the back of your hands now stained with the sticky substance of beer and makeup as you wiped your eyes. your hair was soaked in beer, along with your shirt and bra. you glared up at him, streaks of black mascara and eyeliner smudged around your eyes and down your cheeks.

“where's the bathroom?” your voice was icy, laced with venom as you abruptly stood up from the bench. satoru was barely able to slip a word out, his pink lips agape and towering frame dwarfed beneath the intensity of your gaze. he pointed in a random direction upstairs, earning a roll of your eyes and a shove to his shoulder as you brushed past him.

you tore open the sliding door, the gross aroma of alcohol and sweat making your lips curl in disgust as you squeezed through the large crowd. you pushed and shoved past people, earning a few glares and under-the-breath snarls as you made your way upstairs.

finally, finding the bathroom, the golden overhead light illuminated the yellowish splotches that decorated your white t-shirt and smears of your makeup, effectively ruining your evening. as you stripped yourself of your top, there was a sharp knock to the bathroom door before a familiar white-haired man poked his head through the door.

“fuck, i'm so sorry,” satoru apologized as he stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. you peeked at the black hoodie held in his fist while you rubbed a damp washcloth around your cheeks, the act smearing more makeup around than actually removing it. “i'll send you money for the shirt, just tell me how much it was. and, i grabbed you a hoodie, it might be a bit big on you but at least it's better than nothing, right?”

you glanced between the hoodie satoru was clinging to and his eyes. you had never seen satoru look so afraid before, most likely because you rarely got angry at anyone. and, whenever you did, you allowed actions to dictate rather than your words.

“i don't want your money,” you sneered at him, your face finally rid of all your makeup. you tilted your head forward, rinsing your hair beneath the rushing cold water spewing from the faucet. “you can just leave the hoodie on the toilet, thanks.”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip, fixated on the curve of your back as you bent over the bathroom counter. his gaze was shameless, heat pooling into his pelvis as he inhaled a sharp breath of cold air through his nose. he sat the hoodie down on the basin of the toilet, taking a step closer to you.

“let me help you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers engulfed yours, aiding you in your attempt to rinse all of the beer from your hair. his pelvis was pressed softly to your behind, his warmth radiating through the layers of fabric between the two of you. “i'm really sorry again, just wanna make it up to you. i'll do whatever it takes, just don't want you t' be mad at me.”

a shiver runs down your spine— either from the weight of satoru's words, the cold water cascading down the sides of your face, or both.

“gojo, stop apologizing,” you said as you peeled your head out from under the water. satoru took a step back to grab a decorated towel, allowing you some space between the two of you. “you don't need to make anything up to me; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do it. it's over, let's be done with it.”

as you wrapped the towel around your head, satoru's hands grabbed at your waist— pressing your back up against the bathroom counter while his legs found their place between yours. one of his hands trailed up the curve of your body, ghosting over the swell of your bra-clad breast before cupping your neck, and gently tilting your head backward. his light blue eyes peered down at you, pupils wavering and enlarged. “are you sure there's nothing i can do to make it up to you?”

you gulped, heart pounding a frantic rhythm as the temperature of the bathroom seemed to rise from his close proximity. "gojo," your voice was breathy, the lingering remnants of anger melting into a puddle within your chest as the pad of his thumb caressed the hinge of your jaw. 

“stop calling me gojo, angel,” satoru’s head dipped down, mere centimeters away from your face. it felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore.

“and let me make it up to you the best way i know how,” half-lidded eyes glancing between your lips and your eyes. the tip of his nose brushes against yours, your head growing light from the intensity of the moment. “would you allow that?”

with a soft nod of your head, satoru's lips press against yours— capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips, stealing the very air from your lungs. his hand squeezes at your waist, the lingering sweetness of alcohol flooding your mouth. satoru guides you over to the toilet, his long legs spread out as you sit upon his lap.

the wet sounds of your lips fill the bathroom's void, the booming noise of dance music fading away as you surrender pieces of yourself to satoru. his hand trails up from your neck to cup the back of your head, smushing your faces together while his other hand kneads at the fat of your ass cheek through your jeans.

“fuck,” his voice is deep and raspy, dripping with lust as your lips devour the sides of his neck with scorching hot kisses and licks. you suckle at the space beneath his ear, ripping a long groan from his throat as you nip at the sensitive spot. “fuck— lemme— can i take your pants off, please?”

“no,” you breathe into satoru's ear, your bruised lips brushing against the soft earlobe. your fingers hook onto the waistband of satoru's pants, barely able to tug them down from your position on his lap. “but you can take yours off.”

you snake down to the bathroom, watching with hungry eyes as satoru peels his pants and boxer briefs off, the fabric pooled at his ankles as you kneel in front of him. his cock is long, thick, and veiny— cockhead flushed a rosy shade of pink, oozing pearls of white pre-cum. 

a hushed fuck is breathed out through gritted teeth as your soft hands wrap around the base of his cock, pumping his throbbing length with twists and flicks of your wrists. your lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the white globs of pre-cum seeping from the slit. satoru's hips buck up to chase the warm sensation of your mouth engulfing him, his head dipping back to lean against the bathroom wall, whispers of praise and moans bubbling up from the depths of his throat.

“fuck yes,” his voice is soft, his fingers stretched across the back of your head, guiding your mouth up and down whatever inches you allowed your throat to gobble down. “so wet— mouth feels so good— such a good girl f'me— f-fuck, just like that, god you look like a dream—”

his cock pokes at the gummy wall at the back of your throat, tears streaming down your hollowed cheeks as satoru guides your head up and down his cock in languid movements. he twitches against your tongue, your mind spiraling, completely forgetting how vulnerable you two were to getting caught. at any given someone could open the door and catch you in the act, satoru's pitiful hiccups were drowned out by the thumping of the music downstairs.

“stop stop stop,” satoru peels your mouth off his cock, his muscles tensed from his approaching orgasm. he practically melts at the sight of your teary eyes and flushed lips, drool pooling down the edges of your mouth as you look up at him. “don't wanna cum yet... c'mere here, pretty girl.”

satoru helps you from off the floor, heat rushing between your thighs as he pulls down the fabric of your jeans. you don't fight satoru as he twists your body around, guiding your hips back down onto his lap. your legs are stretched over his bare thighs, the sticky girth of his cock flushed against your sex. his dick slips between your soaked lips, cunt drooling all over his length as he teases the pulse of your clit.

the mushroom tip then pushes through your entrance, the delicious stretch of his cock easing its way through your tight ring earning a quivering groan from the man. “god, you feel good around my dick, such a perfect pussy—”

a pleasant buzz settles over your mind, your head tilting back to nestle against his shoulder. “gonna fuck me good, ‘toru?” you tease as satoru guides your hips, lifting your body up and down his length as if you were his personal sex doll. his biceps and thighs flex against you, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock as he thrusts into your tight heat. 

“you fuckin’ know it— g’na give ya the best dick ya ever had, g’na make sure ya remember this forever,” satoru rambles into your ear, affectionate kisses peppered across your neck as a muscled arm snakes around your waist. “squeezin' me so tight, angel; best pussy i've ever had,” he grinds his hips into you, barely able to muster up the strength to pound you properly. 

“ya feel even better, ‘toru, fuckin’ love yer cock,” you groan out, his cock nudging against the gummy walls of your cunt, stroking the fire within you just enough to pull pathetic whimpers and moans from you. “yer cock was made f’me, f-fucckk—”

“g'na cum deep inside you, okay? so close, so fuckin' close, pretty girl— need ya t' cum with me, baby, okay?” satoru whimpers, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. you felt like you were on cloud nine, like your soul had drifted out of your body and into the very heavens above.

with your eyes pinched closed, all you can do is nod and gargle out a pathetic series of “yesyesyes”s. satoru's free hand latches to one of your breasts, peeling back the thick layer of your bra to pinch at your nipple. he twirls the sensitive bud between his slender fingers, tugging and pinching at them until their nice and puffy.

the sensitivity of your breasts being fondled and his cock head rubbing at the mind-numbing spot buried deep into your gummy walls tears a scream from your throat as your release submerges you into its depths. satoru tenses up against you, his cock pressed impossibly close against your cervix as a series of curse words ramble from his lips. his cum stains your insides— the thick load spilling out from your sopping cunt and dripping down his balls.

satoru holds you close for a few moments, his labored breaths heating your skin as he presses his sweaty forehead into the back of your shoulder. “holy fuck,” he manages a chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade. “let me just stay like this for a little bit more, not ready to pull out just yet, pretty pussy's just too warm.”

you lean against satoru for what feels like an eternity, your tiny sniffles and whimpers filling the air as satoru adjusts your weight atop him. “satoru, we should clean up before someone walks in, we forgot to lock the door,” you manage to say, earning an annoyed huff from the man.

satoru reluctantly pulls out of you, your legs too weak to support your own weight as you lean against the opposing wall. he guides you to take his place on the toilet seat's lid, the plastic warm against your skin as he shuffles around to grab you something to clean yourself with. he settles on the damp cloth you used to wipe your makeup with, his touch attentive and gentle as he kneels before you— making sure to clean every drop of cum and arousal from every crevice and fold of your cunt. 

“fuck, look at that,” he murmurs, peeling back at your puffy lips as a white glob of cum seeps out from your entrance. it drools down your slit before pooling on the seat. “what a pretty sight, my cum drippin' out of your cute little pussy.”

you roll your eyes, cheeks puffed out in embarrassment as satoru scoops up the spilled cum. his finger prods at the tight ring of your entrance, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers hook into the walls of your cunt— fucking the wasted seed back into you.

“can't let it all go to waste, right?” satoru gazes up at you, a smug smirk painted across his lips. 

“s-satoru, the door—” your hips buck to meet his shallow ministrations, another chuckle bubbling from his lips. he litters kisses along the soft skin of your inner thighs before resting his cheek against the warm skin.

he peers up at you from below, another finger slipping deep inside of you. “i'll make sure to lock the door this time, baby— don't want someone catching a glimpse of what's mine, right?”

maybe parties weren't so bad after all.

[banabiohazard]

(DDLC, Canon compliant, post game, just torturing my favorite character for fun tbh [lie it has purpose] )

Viscous. That was the word she would use to describe nonexistence, a visceral, hot, viscous, ever encompassing hell like drowning in boiling oil. Eight years, eight years of drowning In the inky void, no struggling or thrashing, no resistance or fight. Because on every level, she knew she deserved it. She’d earned her stay in hell, feeling the bones of her neck crack and her eyes swell, the only thing keeping her head from falling slack: a rope tied so tight it left burns to the muscle. Her stomach and chest burning from the old gaping stab wounds left untreated. All things she deserved. Until all at once, it was over. She stood in a new void entirely, a gradient of pink to white, deafening, cute music blasting in her ears. She grabbed at her neck as her choking became breath, she felt it scarred like a burn where the rope had once pulled, her hand crept around the back. She felt on the left hand side of the back of her neck the scar was much larger, jagged. She could see, really see now, staring at the bright pink ground,

She stood up, slowly looking around, she existed again. She turned around to see the title screen, backwards as she had always seen it. The hole in reality itself before her, but she saw no face on the other side, out of habit more than anything, she peered through to see only a cold steel room. The occasional blinking light, when the sound got too much to handle she pulled herself from the pin prick in the fourth wall and began attempting to press the options, they did not work, as if her fingers were frozen. A pang of remembrance hit her mind, she dug in her blazer pocket and pulled out the scuffed pager she hated was so familiar. She held the calculator-like screen up to her eyes and saw what she always did: she saw beyond the veil, into the very fabric of her reality, the primordial soup that housed and kept alive her and almost everyone she had ever loved. The files. She found the master volume and ripped it down to mute.

She stayed there for a long time, silently reviewing the events of the last time she existed in her mind. Wordlessly scolding her foolishness, she wanted to go back. She didn’t want to be a god, or reality bender. She wanted to be Monika, an eighteen year old girl in highschool with her best friends. She wanted to be an impatient, perfectionist blissfully ignorant little computer program. She couldn’t handle this. She needed things to be normal- wait, she can do that. Despite how badly she’d like not to, she does have control, she can just make things normal. She held her pager in her shaking hand as she clung to her knees. Hesitantly, she peered inside, and set the stage.

As Monika stood on a familiar street corner, taking the place of an unfortunately deleted protagonist, boo hoo. She waited with baited breath to see her again.

“Monika! Wait up!”

The voice made tears well in her eyes, painful hot tears, they felt too thick. She hated it. As Sayori got up to her she put her hands on her knees and panted, “I overslept again! But I caught you this time!” She huffed. After a moment Monika opened her mouth, “Ma-“ she chocked hard on a rasp, grasping at her neck, feeling as if shoving razor blades down her throat. She heaved as she coughed, and eventually, it all came out. Painting the ground in old blood and food dye, the last of Natsuki’s cupcakes she ingested she assumed. Sayori stared forward, a stark reminder that this was fools gold, a pointless distraction from her guilt. Shut up. Shut the fuck up. She spent days on the ground, Sayori standing over her like an old god in hibernation, teaching herself how to speak again, until it didn’t hurt. She gazed into the files, and reset.

As Monika stood on a familiar street corner, taking the place of an unfortunately deleted protagonist, boo hoo. She waited with more confidence than before for a do over.

“Monika! Wait up!”

As Sayori got up to her she put her hands on her knees and panted, “I overslept again! But I caught you this time!” She huffed. “Maybe,” Monika smiled, Sayori looked so alive, it was scarily convincing. “But only because I decided to wait for you.” She teased, Sayori whined, “You say that like you were thinking about ignoring me!” She pouted, “That’s mean Monika!” Monika immediately felt her knees buckle under her, she fell to the ground, on pure animal instinct begging for forgiveness, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to please don’t hate me! Sayori! Sayori!” She stared forward again. As if Monika was still standing in front of her. Monika clawed at her legs for even a modicum of her attention, she wanted to be yelled at, scolded, driven to tears. Maybe if someone else did it, she could at least be upset at them instead of herself. Reset.

THIS IS A SNIPPET OF THE FIRST PART OF “Change” ON AO3 TO READ THE REST PLEASE FOLLOW THE LINK BELOW

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63292066

[jgroffdaily]

Karan Soni and Jonathan Groff are well-known for their blockbusters – but their latest project, the critically acclaimed indie A Nice Indian Boy, marks a welcome gear change.

The guys discussed their new film, currently rated 100% Fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, with Attitude alongside director Roshan Sethi at last night’s BFI London Film Festival screening at the Curzon Mayfair.

Asked to sum up the film’s plot, Karan said: “My character meets Jonathan’s character, we fall in love, and then I have to introduce him to my very traditional Indian family. He has to win them over before the wedding.”

Added Jonathan: “I just watched the movie for the first time a couple of days ago; I wanted to see it in a theatre, not a link on my laptop. And I was so overwhelmed by the power of this movie.”

“I’ve been saying the movie is for everyone – for queer people, for not queer people, for Indian people, not Indian people,” Roshan meanwhile told us.

Sharing feedback he’s received from parents at screening Q&As, Karan said: “They spoke about their own journey, with not going to their children’s weddings. They’ve come to peace with it years later, but they’ve missed chunks of their lives with their children. A lot of them spoke about, if they had a version of this movie earlier, maybe would have bridged that gap sooner.”

Jonathan, of course, is known for his work in the two Frozen films and 2021’s The Matrix Resurrections, plus popular TV shows like Glee and Looking. The Tony Award-winner is also a stage veteran, with credits including Hamilton and Merrily We Roll Along.

“That would be amazing if that happened,” said Jonathan of the possibility of fans of his studio films supporting this title. “That, in some ways, is out of our control. But in my gut, I feel like great work and great art finds its way. I believed in this script and this team. … Happily, if there are people who are Glee or Frozen or Mindhunter or musical theatre fans, I’m so happy to bring them this story. But I think the movie is powerful enough to bring people on its own accord.”

Describing the plot of the film, Roshan said: “We shot a dance sequence that appears somewhere in the movie. It was tremendously difficult, but very memorable!” And asked for standout feedback to the film, he said: “Probably from my mother, who said she understood me in a way she hadn’t before! It was very sweet, very moving.”

Reflecting on the importance of film criticism, Roshan said: “It’s the most important thing. This is my second independent film, and third overall. In each case, independent films in particular, … survive on the critics’ response. That’s what gets the attention of distributors, who are all reading every single review and looking at the Rotten Tomatoes score. It [makes it] easier to make the next movie as well. It makes a huge, huge difference. Also, people at the distributors often don’t believe there’s an audience for a movie. Critics often prove that there is.”

[lewovo-poto]

1988 Phantom of the Opera (Partial) Viewing Experience at The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Theatre on Film and Tape Archive. July, 2024

---

After learning that it’s possible to make appointments at the NY Library Archive and that they allow viewing of all closed Broadway official recordings for research purposes, I happily booked an appointment. But because I was rushing after watching Cat the Jellicle Ball in the afternoon (great show btw!) and got lost and took the wrong subway, I arrived after 5 PM, and the archive closes at 6 PM. This meant I couldn’t finish watching, so I knew I'd have to come back next time. The archive staff checked my bag and allowed me to bring in paper, a pen, and my phone.

I realized I didn’t have much time, so I thought I’d focus on the key parts. But then, disaster struck again—the computer was about as old as I am, and even my elementary school computer was more advanced. The interface was really difficult to use, and I didn’t really know how to fast-forward or rewind properly, so after wasting 10 minutes, I gave up and decided to just watch it as it was. 😂

(Sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language)

---

**1988 Phantom Review**

The opening captured the surrounding audience, since this was a performance with a live audience. The video quality was average, but if AI restoration becomes possible someday, that would be great. It wasn’t bad, just the typical quality you'd expect from the 1980s.

The Overture was particularly intriguing. I had read in other reviews that there was a female voice, so I was curious, and it turned out there really was a soprano singing along with the Overture, with an “ah—” as the chandelier slowly rose. It sounded quite Gothic. (I wonder when this was introduced and when it was discontinued, as I’ve never heard this version before. It must have been used for a very short period.)

Sarah danced throughout, but there was a moment where she seemed a bit confused, though she quickly resumed dancing normally. After the first part of Hannibal, Carlotta practiced her voice while the old manager introduced everything with a cheerful and enthusiastic tone, rather than the usual tired one (I couldn’t tell if this was because someone else was taking over this mess of a theater or if it was just his naturally cheerful demeanor lol). The conductor squatted down with the sheet music, communicating with the orchestra while waving his arms. I have to say, the immersive experience of the Bucket Show was quite something.

During the iconic “He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera!” line, a male voice also shouted, “There’s a ghost!” Huh?? I hadn’t noticed that before. It seems that the original cast of the Broadway production used British accents (even though most of them, except MC and Sarah, should have been American).

Carlotta looked so small compared to the manager, haha. After getting angry, she said “Ubaldo, Andiamo” in a very deep voice, which I think was the first time I heard that line delivered in a lower register.

Madame Giry asked, “Will the Viscount be at tonight’s performance?” and the manager replied, “Of course, he’ll be in our box.” I don’t think these lines are in the current production anymore; at least, they weren’t in the 25th-anniversary performance.

TOM:

Sarah was so skinny! She really was the wide-eyed ingénue type, with her large eyes. Her dress seemed more teal than green. She wasn’t the lively, bouncy type, but rather, every movement was slow and gentle, and her voice is with lots of vibrato.

Steve Barton’s loud “BRAVO” during the recollection scene was followed by soft, broken out sentences full of laughter, making it seem like he was lost in a beautiful memory.

After TOM, Sarah kept talking and nodding with the conductor, probably reviewing the performance. When MC’s “Bravi” came out, Sarah fell into deep thought until Meg came over and startled her. Meg was super cute, and Sarah’s Christine maintained a frozen, pensive expression while talking to Meg, not really happy until she sang “Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!” and finally smiled. When Madame Giry said, “Come and practice,” it sounded like there was a male voice saying “Asshole” (though I didn’t see this in anyone else’s report, so it might have been me lacking sleep and hallucinated, or perhaps a spectator’s accidental comment was recorded).

Steve Barton is truly the best Raoul, bars none! He exudes both gentleness and elegance, while his voice carries the excitement and joy of someone who has just fallen in love. When he sees Christine, his face lights up with a smile, and when he says "SOAKED to the skin" to her, he really emphasizes the word "SOAKED" with a pause. Similarly, when he says "Little Lottie," he pronounces it pointedly, like "Li—ttle Lo—ttie," as if savoring the name with each syllable. Sarah’s Christine is also very happy to see Raoul, but when she mentions the Angel, her expression turns pensive and melancholy again. Christine initially declines the dinner invitation, but when Raoul says, "No no, you must change, 2 mins, MY little Lottie" (“MY"!), Sarah’s Christine ends up smiling and looking amused. Because of this, it doesn’t seem like Raoul is being overbearing; it feels like, for a brief moment, the two of them have mutually agreed to go to dinner. It’s only after Raoul turns away that Christine realizes, "Oh no, I can’t go—everything has changed." (Could be me reading too much into it)

When Sarah's Christine first heard MC’s Phantom, she wasn’t scared—it was just… a normal expression when Sarah's Christine thought of the Phantom, the pensive kind, until the “enter at last, master” line when she smiled. MC’s Phantom in the mirror was really… creepy, especially with the makeup and lighting.

(At this point, my notes became too messy to decipher… I was probably too excited at the time.)

Title Song:

During the boat scene, Christine looked very happy, while the Phantom leaned slightly as if about to touch Christine’s face (probably during the “Where night is blind” line).

MOTN:

MC’s Phantom had noticeable… eye bags, lol. MC’s rendition of MOTN felt like a lullaby, but with a Gothic allure. The body language was similar to Sarah’s TOM, with every movement slow and deliberate, very graceful (maybe due to the original stage direction by Gillian Lynne). Sarah's Christine looked somewhat hypnotized. During “Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light,” MC’s Phantom’s fingers almost touched Sarah’s face, coming close to a kiss before pulling away. MC’s “Soar” & “Be” was super long and well-sung. Another part I liked was when, possibly due to the height difference, MC’s Phantom slightly hunched over during “Floating, falling,” making him look extra creepy. It also felt like, after maintaining such an elegant demeanor for so long, MC’s Phantom was finally losing some composure as he got closer to Christine. During “The music that I write,” MC’s voice was particularly seductive, and his lower register was impressive.

Since this was the Broadway version, when Christine was Christine ightened and fainted, the Phantom didn’t carry her. MC’s Phantom looked more like he was in a composed shock—surprised but not panicked, and he gently covered Christine with the cloak. The monkey music box didn’t work well in this performance, lol, as it didn’t play any music (even in the official recording, lol).

When Sarah's Christine woke up, she wasn’t the playful, cute, and mischievous type (like Sierra in 25th Anniversary, and many others). Sarah's Christine looked curious but also more anxious, as if she was unease waking up in a strange environment, which is honestly a very logical reaction after woke up at a strange place, and quite Leroux. When she sang “who’s the face in the mask,” her face showed more fear (though, speaking of which, while its believable for Sarah’s Christine to act anxious when woke up, it’s a bit unbelievable that Sarah's Christine, who seemed so uneasy and scared, would dare to remove the Phantom’s mask. I think I prefer a more playful Christine but that’s more of a personal preference).

After revealing the mask, Sarah's Christine cried and wailed a lot (she seemed very scared, poor girl). MC’s Phantom… my notes got messy again here (probably because I was too excited), but the dialogue used “vixen” instead of “viper.” MC’s Phantom also cried and groaned in pain, crawling toward Christine. I remember he turned his face toward Christine without covering it (though it was hard to see the disfigurement makeup in the dark), reaching out his arm, pleading, and letting out a super sad, sobbing “Oh Christine…” After getting the mask back, MC’s Phantom reached out as if to caress Christine’s face but switched to using his wrist at the last second.

In the Magical Lasso scene, there was a brief glimpse of the Phantom and C. The original Broadway Madame Giry really had a strong witch-like aura, haha.

Then I fast-forwarded because the library was about to close. I remember Sarah’s Christine as the Page Boy was *super* cute. Honestly, that was probably the cutest and most lively I saw Sarah's Christine. Then I fast-forwarded to the rooftop scene, where Sarah’s Christine had her usual fearful attitude toward the Phantom. When singing “So distorted, deformed,” her face seemed to show… a look of disgust (oh nooooo!). But when she sang “in that night, there was music in my mind,” she smiled again. She’s truly a Christine who’s more in love with the Voice... Then the staff had finished clearing the other tables, so I also got up to leave. Through fast-forwarding, it seems like Christine and Raoul had lots of hugs and such. I really hope I can go to NY on a business trip again soon and have time to visit the library to watch the official recording! Next time, I hope I can take my time and enjoy it slowly from start to finish.

---

**Personal Reflections**:

Steve Barton needs no further discussion—eternally the best! I've always thought of him as the steady, noble, and gentle Prince Charming type of Raoul. After watching (a portion of) the official recording, I realized that Barton’s Raoul also has a very lively and passionate side, full of the excitement of a young man in love. His voice is full of teasing warmth, especially when he first encounters Christine. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see much of the rooftop scene, but he seems to exude gentleness. In summary, he's a perfect Raoul!

As for Sarah's Christine... uh, well, I have mixed feelings. I've heard others praise Sarah, saying she has a very classical Gothic 19th-century vibe, so my expectations were quite high. I was imagining a mysterious woman with her head in the clouds. Of course, there are also criticisms of her acting, saying it's somewhat lacking (I shall never forgot that one critic was like “She can’t act scared in NY subway at 3am” or something, which is quite mean). After watching this segment of the official recording, I feel... there were some elements in both? She is indeed a graceful, intellectual Christine, with many secrets buried deep in her heart. Her facial expressions seem fine to me, mostly seem pensive and wistful, definitely able to act scared and unsettled. Maybe it's because her Christine always seems deeply burdened, so her expressions often appear serious. But when it comes to her interactions with the Phantom... it feels like her Christine doesn't really love him. Christine only seems truly happy when the Phantom is acting as her Angel of Music or when he has her completely under his spell, but once the Angel leaves or when she's not controlled by the music, Christine immediately returns to reality, filled with unease. Also, during the rooftop scene when describing the Phantom's face, Sarah's Christine actually shows disgust, which really shocked me because I usually see this moment as one of fright (at the Phantom's actions and ferocity) rather than revulsion at his face. So, it's hard to judge—paired with Barton's flawless Raoul, it feels like Sarah’s Christine would be very willing to leave the Phantom. She does give off Leroux Christine’s melancholy and pensive energy——a woman with many secrets, and I really like that about her.

MC’s Phantom—it's a pity I couldn't see the later scenes where the Phantom truly lets loose and explodes. However, from the parts I did see, MC's Phantom is a very classic Gothic "monster." His movements are slow and graceful, yet strangely seductive, and at the same time, quite creepy, especially with the makeup and lighting. His voice is very controlled—except when he's too close to Christine or when his mask is removed, he generally seems like a Phantom who is mostly in strict control of himself. He's very restrained, always keeping his movements and interactions with Christine just on the edge of touching, almost kissing, but then pulls back at the last second (which aligns with the original choreography and the director's intent to express suppressed desire). His anger, perhaps due to the nature of his voice, isn't one of raging madness but more of sadness followed by painful wails, full of pleading. His control over his voice and how he used that to convey emotions is just so captivating and heartbreaking. Oh, how I wish I could see MC's final lair scene, as MC's Phantom is really one who is very composed and elegant most of the time (honestly, it’s more like the Phantom in Kay's novel—one can understand how the old-school Phantoms influenced Susan Kay's inspiration). And I really want to see MC's Phantom with other Christines, like Dale Kristien. I know she’s one of the most supportive of the Erik/Christine relationship and is a fan of MC. I'm very curious how MC and she would perform together.

[ratteni-da-rotten]

A Mouse Among Owls? - Chapter 01

Fandom: Murder Drones

Warnings: Background Character Death, accidental baby acquisition

Characters (so far): Serial Designation V, Uzi Doorman

┈┈┈┈

A vibrant yellow cross stared at the small thing on the floor. The feathered beast’s head tilted slightly to the side trying to figure out what it was. She felt her tail gently swishing behind, disturbing the ever-so-frigid snow. Serial Designation V’s thermal sensors detected heat emanating from it, the object’s red-yellow-green colours contrasted against a sea of blue.

Pained and terrified cries were still echoing near her. Their source was a worker who was in the process of dying. The disassembler lacked any care for its pathetic whimpering. In her opinion, their suffering made great background music. Maybe she would record it and add it to her internal audio collection folders so she could listen to it during boredom spells.

There was no need for pity; the gashes inflicted on the lesser drone’s chassis would make it soon go into FATAL ERROR by oil loss. At least, it wouldn’t be a lonely death since the rogue machine would join their fallen peers around them. Dark liquid haphazardly painted the cold surroundings, its tantalising smell as if seducing the killer angel for a taste.

No need to rush things, the workers wouldn’t return to life and flee nor would the winged lass allow any other rival disassembler to steal her sweet spoils. Normally, V would be playing and taunting with the remaining worker on its deathbed but her focus remained on the mysterious item. By reviewing her recent memory files, the metallic beast recalled it had been thrown near her feet when she dove from the sky and attacked the wandering group of toasters.

Perhaps it had been a distraction attempt? SD - V doubted the workers were smart enough for that, they were nothing more than mindless machinery. Maybe their rudimentary AI had come up with the conclusion that less weight meant it could run away faster.

The interesting oval-shaped object was wrapped by a purple and white rabbit-themed blanket, what was once snug around the thing now had noticeably loosed but still concealed the small hidden item’s identity.

She kneeled and leaned forward, both clawed hands on the snowy ground, as if essentially cornering the motionless mystery would improve the inspection. Carefully, a finger-blade lightly tapped the fabric only to feel something solid underneath. V licked her chops and removed the blanket just enough to reveal its contents.

It was like her servos had frozen; even Serial Designation V’s tail stopped dead in the air. Neon purple eyes, hollow and shaking, adorned with stress lines, stared back at her. The stare remained locked into each other’s visors until the nearby sound of sobs stole the smaller robot’s attention. Mangled worker drone carcasses were on full display, and the twin moons’ tender light made their spilt oil gleam beautifully. One had yet to pass away, its off-putting sounds worsening the situation tenfold.

A strangled whine escaped the pill baby’s voicebox, momentarily restraining itself, before scaling into full grating wailing. V’s stringy tail lowered to the ground and curled up around one of her pointy legs, the toxic yellow cross on her visor quickly was replaced by normal drone eyes. The disassembly machine had an unreadable facial expression, her body was as still as a statue except for her quivering claws.

“Shit shit shit shitshitshit,” were the words the murder bot gal started to scream within the confines of her mind. Mind, core, and code began to caterwaul against each other as if trying to bend the rivalling wants to its will by being the loudest.

Drones like her were made to adapt to every environment and situation with the sole goal of completing their mission. Yet this scenario was new; she had no prior experience, and the expected outcome would surely leave a bitter taste in her jaws. What was she supposed to do when every part of her was in conflict?

Serial Designation V’s gaze briefly wandered to the suffering, bleeding, worker not far from them. Its suffering was finally reaching the end, the rogue machine would be of no help if it was dead. The untrained neural network wouldn’t last long if V allowed them to “flee” together, other predatory robots would be attracted by the dark sweet liquid leaking from their wounds. She doubted the thing would even make it very far, a few metres and the drone would undoubtedly collapse back on the polar desert’s cold surface.

“Maybe… maybe I could just leave it he–”, the usually fierce disassembly machine shook her head. Starvation would claim the tiny aluminium infant, a drawn-out demise if not found by others, and terribly agonising for a being who isn’t familiar with neglected hunger pangs. Stabbing through its CPU would be quicker and, hopefully, less painful. Furthermore, it was unlikely another disassembler would terminate the thing if they stumbled on it. “Too little oil, not worth the effort,” they would probably think to themselves.

V lifted a single, trembling, sharp blade ready to spear through the artificial baby’s visor. Seconds passed by, the deadly claws hovering over its smaller form, and she couldn’t compel herself to do what was supposed to be her job. The ferocious hunter, the one who enjoyed prolonging her prey’s misery and experimenting with how much damage it could sustain before permanently shutting down, was reluctant to tear a UNN to shreds. If other squads became aware of this, they would surely crack up at this fact.

Poor thing was crying its speakers out, scrunched LED eyes, wiggling erratically on the ground. So utterly defenceless, they couldn’t even try to turn tail as it lacked any limbs, under the claws of an oilfeeder. Looking closely at the thing, it resembled the– Nope, not thinking about that right now!

No living being stays young forever, untrained neural networks get older and moult from their infantile shape. When this one achieved the milestone, it would die by her claws or by her teammates. And if the pill drone died before that due to someone else’s actions, that would still be alright. V will turn a blind eye, as long it isn’t her fault.

SD - V swapped her claws back to her ordinary hands and gingerly cradled the robot infant close to her chest. The embrace was warm, so different from Copper-9’s freezing winds. For that moment the taller being’s fans were audible to the pill drone, the proximity allowed so. Her cries decreased in intensity, the gentle back rubbing and the ceasing of death gurgles lulled the tiny one into quietness. Bawling took a toll on the pill baby, making it enter SLEEP MODE. Dormant in a monster’s arms, killer of her kind, it was comforting nonetheless.

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Our Love Story: Don’t Lift A Finger, Love

Nanami Kento x Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

(Song Inspiration: Love Someone by Jason Mraz)

Nanami decided to go to your place after his shift. He was glad that he was able to leave early. He has been very grateful to Gojo and Geto since they offer to finish missions for him so he can return to you on time.

You and Nanami go back and forth to each other’s places. It started off slow, keeping a toothbrush in each other’s places after you fell asleep at his apartment after studying one night. He even bought you clothes, facial and specific hair products, toiletries, and even make up to keep at his place. And when Nanami finished his shift, he slowly brought his things over to keep at yours.

He did his normal thing when he came back. Shoes were off, blunt sword against the wall, glasses on the table, sleeves rolled up halfway, top buttons undone, and tie hanging loosely around his neck. He found you in your kitchen, studying intensely for your final.

You were busy this past month. In a few days, you will take your final and your ceremony was a couple of weeks later. You’ve been going to reviews for your NCLEX and tutoring for your sessions. Along with that, you still worked your full time hours at the hospital. He made sure he came back home to you. He made sure you ate, either bringing home food or cooking something he planned for you throughout the day. He did more than you needed him to do. But you knew that he would be stubborn to listen to you when you were swamped to take care of yourself. You always tell them you were alright before he starts doing what he was going to do anyway. You were slowly getting used to him doing anything and everything for you.

“Sweetheart?” You didn’t react. And when he walked closer to you, he could hear the music blasting from your head phones. He pulled it them off your head, making you jump. When you turned around, you smiled widely.

“Kento-kun! Did you just get back?” you asked. Nanami nodded. “How was work?”

“Good,” he answered and took a seat next to you. “Gojo-san and Geto-san took over my last mission.”

“They’re too good to you,” you said and kissed his lips.

“Are you working tonight?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I took vacation for two weeks.” Nanami smiled and you can see that he was relieved. He leaned in and kissed your forehead tenderly.

“Good,” he said. “You have been nonstop. As much as I want you to take a break, I love that your hard work is paying off. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” You just want to cry happily from his words.

“You really mean it?” you asked. Nanami nodded. “Okay, let me be for a bit. I’m almost done with these practice questions.”

“Okay, my love. I’ll make us dinner.”

He kissed your lips, yet your body felt frozen. You couldn’t help but let his new pet name for you repeat in your head. It was usually sweetheart, darling, or sometimes dear. Never had he said love. As you placed your headphones back on, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more meaning to the name. It almost made it hard for you to concentrate.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you were studying. Nanami couldn’t help but do the same thing whenever he looked up at you. He feels at peace when you smile. Your smile is his favorite sight.

“Break time!”

“Food is almost done. I made katsudon,” he said. Your mouth watered. You’ve been craving it for a while now. You put your school supplies away in your living room. You entered the kitchen and started to quickly wash the dishes, but when Nanami saw what you were doing, he immediately wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you away. You laughed. “Do not lift a finger, my love. I want you to relax.”

You blushed as he brought you to the chair. You sat down and watched him prepare the dish. You watched his back as he was by the stove finishing dinner. You watched him turn on the electric kettle and setting up two tea cups and two teabags. You watched him set up two bowls and he walked over to you with a smile. The smell of dinner made your stomach rumble.

“Thank you, Kento-kun! You are seriously the best.”

“Anything for my girl,” he said and turned back around to grab the two tea cups. You patiently waited for him. Once he sat down, the two of you grabbed your chopsticks and ate. “Is it good, love?” You nodded.

“It’s amazing,” you said. “You make the best meals.”

“Is it missing anything?” he asked curiously. He takes your criticisms seriously. He wanted to make the meals perfect just for you.

“Not this one,” you said. “Maybe more onions but I also loooove onions with this dish.” Nanami took a mental note of it for next time. You looked at him. “But you don’t have to.”

“I want you to have the best,” he said. Your heart wanted to leap out of your chest.

“I love you,” you said.

You and Nanami froze. You quickly turned back around and took a sip of your tea. Nanami watched you, letting those three words sink in. He couldn’t help but smile. He placed his hand on your thigh which got you to turn around and look at him. Nanami stood up and cupped your face.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” You smiled widely. You grabbed his tie and pulled him in to kiss him. The kiss was long, tongues battling each other, with Nanami gently nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip. Once he heard your soft moan, he pulled away. He gazed at your dazed and soft eyes before kissing your forehead. “I love you so much.”

After dinner was finished, Nanami quickly took the bowls to the sink before you could clean up. He held your hand and lead you to the couch, telling you to relax.

“I’m not disabled,” you said, slightly teasingly. Nanami kissed your forehead.

“I know. I just don’t want you to lift a finger tonight,” he said, face stoic yet voice so soft it makes your heart leap with joy.

“Then in that case, I will shower and get ready for the night.” Nanami let out a small smile and kissed your lips. “You’re very kissy tonight.”

“You’re just very kissable,” he said. “Go shower. I’ll go right after you, love.” You nodded, skipping your way to the bathroom.

He found you in bed, laptop on your lap and your iPad filled with notes in your hand. He awed at the sight while leaning against the doorway after his shower. His towel remained around his waist. You looked up and turned to look at him. Your eyes widened and you blushed as you turned your attention back to your computer.

“Studying hard again?” he asked. You gave him a high-pitched hum in response. Nanami picked out his clothes and walked back to the bathroom to change. Your hand was on your racing heart. You let dirty thoughts consume your mind.

“Love, do you want tea?” he asked.

“I’m good for now,” you answered flustered. Nanami nodded and joined you in bed. He took his book from the nightstand and started reading. “So…what is it that you love about me?” Nanami placed a book mark in his book and closed it, putting it back on the night table.

“You being you,” he answered nonchalantly. He watched you react irritably with his reaction. He quietly chuckled to himself before pulling you closer to him, your laptop slipping off your lap and falling to the side of the bed.

“Now is not the time to be cliche with that short answer,” you said with pouty lips. Nanami kissed the top of your head.

"You're smart and beautiful. You prefer to be independent and I love that you let me in your life and allow me to help you. Unlike me, you like to go with the flow of things. You don't exactly plan things out and usually I hate that, but I love it with you. I never planned to keep you close in my life. I was just going to keep it at that after you bought me coffee and bread.”

“I honestly thought the same thing. Then you called me. Checked up on me. Why’d you do that?” Nanami shrugged.

“I felt like I had to. I knew I didn’t have to. With me being a sorcerer, I couldn’t let you in my life. But since I kept letting you in, I at least had to give you an option, right?” You nodded. “You make me happy. When I see you, I feel the tiredness go away the moment I see you smile. When I see you work hard, it makes me want to become a better sorcerer, that way I can protect you. I love everything about you.” You smiled. You held his hand tightly and rested your head on his shoulder.

“You don’t find me like I’m some kind of child right?”

“Not at all. Why? You think a five year age gap is too much?”

“I-I was just curious.” Nanami chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“Your turn.”

“You’re a serious and stoic man with the biggest heart in the world,” you said. “When I talk to Gojo-san and Geto-san, they love talking about you to me. You’re so caring to the young sorcerers. You make me proud that you are one. You get to be their mentor and they get to fight in battle like you. And I know I never seen you fight, but I don’t have to see to know that you’re one of the best.” Nanami felt a burst of happiness when you said that. “And I love that you’re true to word and actions. You’re honest and loyal. Everything about you is just amazing.” You couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. Something about them sparkled. Nanami rested his forehead on yours, gently caressing your one cheek.

“Thank you,” he said and kissed you softly.

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Y’know, Rise of Red is nothing more than a rushed cash grab in an attempt to bank off a pretty much a dead franchise. They’ve scored so poorly on rotten tomatoes with both audience and critics hating on it. 44% for the audience score and 50%. It’s way lower than the ALL three movies combined, and it’s definitely a retcon of all three movies. Plus, if I’m being honest, RoR doesn’t even feel like a descendants movie at all, it felt more like a TikTok/K-pop style movie with mediocre versions of the Disney characters. Case in point, Aladdin and Jasmine.

In addition, I’m worried because RoR has created some stans where they’re hating on the og fans and calling them nostalgia fan and such.Descendants subreddit is more cringy with RoR than fans on TikTok.

First off, don't insult tiktok/K-Pop like that: both of those have better music then whatever the fuck you call Rise of Red's music, let alone both understand fashion better then Mattel/the designers for Rise of Red. Second of all, I mean, your just saying what we all been knowing. There's no reason to keep going with Descendants after the third movie UNLESS its just to milk it for money, and trying to do a soft reboot of the prior three movies and what they established while killing off a character whose actor is sadly no longer with us, just makes it clear as day this is to keep a franchise going for money and that's it. I mean, it's been literally said Mattel helped design the characters just for DOLLS, if that isn't clear where the minds were when it came to this movie. (And fun fact: they cost the same price as a MH G3 doll over here in UK, aka £30....I'll leave it up to anyone reading to decide if they worth that much in comparison to MH G3 which manages to make itself worth that much). But also like, I mean....yeah, it doesn't feel like a Descendants movie...even the third movie, also a shit show, is more of a Descendants movie then this...this just feels like Disney WANTED to do their own take on insert-thing-but-they-in-high-school, but couldn't be bothered to risk doing its own franchise and shoved it into Descendants. And the fact that I've only seen I dunno, ONE goodish review on this movie on Youtube but it still had criticism's brought up and even a channel who liked Descendants hated it....yeah that should be saying a-lot.

But honestly....that was expected. Even before the movie came out, hating on it was considered just being too nostalgia obsessed and its for a new generation so leave it alone and such. So it's not surprising it got worser once it came out. Honestly, I'm speaking for myself, I don't care if Rise of Red fans hate me, its fine. They got enjoyment somehow out of a hour and half...meanwhile I (and my friend since we watched it together) felt like I did with Frozen 2: could have spent time watching something else. Like, enjoy Rise of Red? Fine. But don't get mad if other's didn't like it and are expressing that. The block button is right there. Curate your fandom experience.