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aceredshirt13 · 6 months

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1917: A Movie Review

(I created a Letterboxd account specifically to review WWI movies so you can find the review there if you want, but I had no idea reviews got buried so fast so I figured I'd put it here for safekeeping, too.)

Hot tip: if you, while making a movie about the futility of war, ever had to stop and think to yourself, “Okay, but are Germans, like, actually people, though?” then I can only both recommend you kindly consider not making a war movie, and pray for your speedy recovery in the hospital after I have beaned you with a chair.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The rest, which contains spoilers, is under the cut.

I should preface this by saying that I am not an expert on cinematography by any means, and I also watched this movie on an airplane, which means that I wouldn’t have good opinions on the cinematography even if I were an expert on it. I also had not seen any other World War I movies before this one - the only experience I’d had with WWI prior was in the form of books, half the fourth season of Blackadder, an episode of The Twilight Zone, and the occasional spectacularly dark Jeeves and Wooster fanfic. But I had grown interested in learning about the horrors of the war, and had heard much about 1917 and its portrayals of them - so after finishing Barbie on the same international flight, I decided to do a Great War spin on the Barbenheimer formula and give 1917 a whirl.

In terms of horrors, the movie certainly delivers. I will probably never forget Schofield accidentally plunging his hand in the chest cavity of a rotting corpse, or having to crawl to a riverbank over a row of bloated cadavers. Being forced to relive the memory of these scenes actually made me sick to my stomach just now. It is not as much of a visceral waking nightmare as the 2022 version of All Quiet on the Western Front, but it is, without question, awful to see. Gory imagery, however, does not a good war movie make - for that is the burden that the writing must bear.

It’s a pretty simple story. Two very young British privates are given an insanely dangerous mission to travel over enemy lines and deliver a message to call off an attack that will end in disaster, and because one of them has a brother in danger of dying if they don’t succeed, travel they do. Blake (the one with the brother) is chatty, good-humored, and naive about the realities of war, while Schofield (not the one with the brother) is reserved and cynical, traumatized to the point of amnesia from his service at the Somme. Their friendship is endearing, and is unquestionably the best part of the movie. We then follow them through many quiet, almost video game-like journey sequences across No Man’s Land, occasionally interspersed with conversation, mishaps, and near-death situations they help each other out of. Then, not even halfway into the movie, tragedy strikes, and Schofield must make the rest of the journey alone - through more quiet, video game-like journey sequences that sometimes suffer from pacing problems due to the lack of either interpersonal interaction or enough things going on save for walking to keep the viewer engaged. (I actually began to find myself wishing the latter part of the movie was a video game, so I could at least take the exploration into my own hands.) At the end of it all, he reaches his target a bit tardily, but is ultimately able to convince the captain that the push should come to an end, and Blake’s brother is, for now, spared an untimely death. The film ends with our surviving hero leaning back against a tree, gazing at a letter his mother gave him that reads “Come back to me.” before the screen cuts to black.

Now, I’ve been watching WWI films with a friend of mine who is more well-versed in war media than myself, and they let me know after watching this movie on their own that the “pushing past people in the trenches so that you can give a message to call off an attack” segment is the plot of the final scene of Gallipoli. I do not plan to watch Gallipoli, mainly due to the immense degree of historical inaccuracies fabricated to paint British colonial attitudes in a horrible light (which is something that could have very easily been done without erasing the massive losses of an entire section of the British Army that was supporting the Australians), so if you do, you might want to skip ahead to the next paragraph. But if you don’t, well, my friend also let me know that unlike in 1917, where Schofield is too late to completely stop the attack but not too late to spare the elder Blake’s life, in Gallipoli the attempt fails, and the main character’s friend is killed. So not only does 1917 come off as a touch derivative, but it is actually softer than the predecessor it derives from. The captain’s speech about the futility of Schofield’s efforts in the face of future attack orders rings true, but in the end Schofield fulfilled his promise to his dead friend, completed his mission, and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps it was so audiences wouldn’t be disappointed or dissatisfied, and feel the efforts weren’t all for nothing (the Dawn Patrol movies, though more successful at their message than 1917, are a bit guilty of this), but isn’t the entire point of anti-war cinema that it is always, always all for nothing? Shouldn’t you feel miserable, and angry, and dissatisfied?

Well, I did actually feel miserable, and angry, and dissatisfied at the end of this movie, but not for the right reasons. I would be willing to forgive pacing issues and a slightly-too-bright ending, because there was a lot in the movie to like, particularly in regard to the frightening imagery and the relationship between Schofield and Blake. The most compelling scenes in the movie, in fact, surround the aforementioned tragedy that results in two becoming one - but ay, there’s the rub.

Because remember how I said that their friendship was the best part of the movie? Yeah, well, the way that friendship ends is the worst.

So Blake and Schofield are walking along, and they find a barn. They happen to find some milk, and are enthusiastically drinking it while a dogfight takes place overhead - and suddenly a German plane comes careening into the barn in flames. The pilot survives, but is on fire and in terrible pain, so the pair pull him free and pat the fire out. Schofield suggests they put the man out of his misery, but Blake protests because the pilot is begging for water, and asks Schofield to get some for him from the pump. And as he does, the injured German pilot - a man who has just been saved from an extremely painful death by two of his enemies who could have killed him on sight or abandoned him to burn - stabs Blake in the stomach.

I could go on about how shocked and devastated I was at Blake’s subsequent slow and painful death from blood loss, and how Schofield is at his side taking care of him until the very end. About how Blake asks him to take the picture of his family out of his pocket, and show it to him, so he can look at them as he dies - about how after he’s dead, Schofield tries to take his body to a field of blossoming trees, because Blake had spoken earlier about how much he loved them, and how his mother taught him how to identify the flowers, but is picked up by another detachment and forced to abandon his friend’s body where it is. That last bit was, to me, the most affecting and sad part of the movie. But beneath it all, I had one thought, and that thought was “this movie had better have some good German representation to make up for that”.

So I waited, patiently, for the movie to let me know that that was just one man - that that did not represent the entire German army. It’s certainly unlikely for the person you save from death to immediately betray you, but not unheard of - perhaps the pilot was particularly nasty, or prideful, or patriotic, motivated by a hatred of the enemy so powerful that he would rather die than be taken prisoner. Certainly a fair share of real-life RFC pilots were possessed of a complete lack of empathy for and a murderous loathing of their German enemies, so it’s just as certain that the inverse was true. All the movie had to do in turn was show that a German soldier could be just as capable of kindness as poor Blake, or show that a British soldier could be just as heartless as the pilot. And when Schofield later runs into a German soldier - one so babyfaced he looks even younger than himself - and spares his life in exchange for keeping his presence a secret, the opportunity to humanize a German soldier by showing him frightened, and grateful, and letting him go, seems like a total given. Easy and inevitable for an anti-war film, right?

Wrong. The guy betrays him and rats him out immediately. And is killed by Schofield for his trouble. Because German soldiers, God forbid, can’t act like the terrified children they were, crying or vomiting or hesitating or begging for their lives like in 2022’s All Quiet - no, the only emotion burning in their breasts is passion for the Fatherland. (I haven’t seen German characterization this bad in my current WWI catalog outside of the Biggles movie. Do you seriously want the bar to be the Biggles movie?) Never mind that Schofield, an already-bitter character who just watched his friend die by sparing a German soldier, is somewhat unlikely to have even done this in the first place. We can’t show the hero doing something cruel - just like we can’t show him being racist toward the Sikh soldier in the van, or ragging on the Germans like the other white soldiers in the same. No, Schofield, the traumatized, cynical soldier surrounded by death - he must stay kind, and faultless, and pure in the face of that nasty Boche horde. Christ alive. I am mad at this movie.

Like, the war’s over, dude. It’s been over for a hundred years. Do you really still think that all Germans are evil? Is that propaganda poster of the gorilla with the Pickelhaube framed above your bed? Sure, yeah, there’s a brief scene where the leads traverse an old German bunker and find a photo of a soldier’s kids, but that’s not exactly enough of a balance to pat yourself on the back for giving your movie some Big Boy Nuance. That gorilla with the Pickelhaube probably had kids, too. Pickelhaube gorilla kids. I’m drifting from the point.

The point here is that showing Germans have kids they love is not enough, because you have shown that while our British heroes are capable of compassion for the other side of the war, the Germans are in possession of no such thing. Not only are they never shown being empathetic to the enemy, but every bit of empathy they receive from the enemy is repaid with violence, betrayal, and hatred. The British? They love everyone! The Germans? They loathe everyone save for their own! Sounds a bit like the creators mixed up their world wars in terms of ideology, eh? Not that that would have even been true of the average foot soldier in Nazi Germany, because of the apparently radical notion that Germans are human, but the application of this to a war that didn’t even have one Nazi in it only makes it even more infuriating and absurd.

On the subject of Nazis, not even the twist of the traitorous spared German is original to this movie. The same exact bullshit happens in Saving Private Ryan, where (spoiler alert) a German soldier in WWII spared from a cruel and unethical death by the compassion of a kindhearted poet “repays” his kindness by murdering his Jewish comrade later in the movie. And what do both of these movies convey as a result? Certainly not an anti-war message, for an anti-war message proves that war is needless and futile. How can your movie show war is needless, when Germans are depicted as ontologically evil - when kindness toward them is depicted as a flaw and a weakness? No amount of gore and sadness will fix that leak, because all you’ve told us now is that war is terrible, but completely necessary. That it’s just the awful burden our Good Righteous HeroesTM must bear to fight off the forces of evil. You know, Kantorek-from-All-Quiet shit. Do you really want to be spouting Kantorek-from-All-Quiet shit? Of course you don’t.

But do you not want to because of his ideology? Or do you just not want to because he’s German?

I wonder.

(P. S. This isn’t directly related to the movie, but it’s mentioned in the reception section on Wikipedia that this movie is historically inaccurate because it features some black British soldiers mixed in with all the rest - a demographic claimed to have been “negligible”. Now, I’m not a historian, but given that there was more than one black officer in the British military during the war (including a known former cricketer and an RFC pilot, among others), I think it’s probable that the section was full of shit. No documentation in the British Army existed on whether or not any given enlisted soldier was black, so there are no exact numbers to prove anything one way or another, but the existing handful of officers suggests the portion of black enlisted men was likely much higher than that. There may not have been a lot of black British soldiers in WWI, but there’s absolutely no way there were none at all. So like, good on 1917 for having black soldiers, at least. Wish they were in a less frustrating film.) (P. P. S. If you want to see a piece of Allied media do in a paragraph what this movie couldn’t do vis-a-vis Germans in a two-hour-plus runtime, I recommend playing the game Over the Top on the Canadian War Museum website. Yes, really. Check it out. It’s free, it’s not that long, and it’s worth it. The Dawn Patrol movies do a good job of humanizing Germans, too, and go out of their way to do so when they didn’t need to to serve the plot - and those were only made two decades or less after the actual war. If they could do it, why couldn’t 1917? Embarrassing.)

Edit: Having now watched Grand Illusion, I am even more mad at 1917. Grand Illusion, aside from the many other ways it humanizes both sides excellently (and doesn't shy away from flaws, either), has a section involving two French escaped prisoners being given shelter by a German war widow and her young daughter, and they spend a brief amount of time getting to be a sort of makeshift family despite it all. It brings to mind the only major plot detail of 1917 that I didn't mention in this review - Schofield encountering a frightened young woman and a baby while traveling through the burned-out shell of what he thought was an abandoned village. Upon seeing her, I remember thinking "Oh, thank God. A hiding German woman. This movie finally remembered Germans are in possession of souls. Perhaps, together, they can share some scrap of kindness, even as the war rages around them."

Nah. She's French. The baby isn't hers, either - she just found the baby and is looking after it. Because you know how the Jerries are - razing villages and endangering innocent women and children! It's just what they do! Never mind that Grand Illusion - which, like the aforementioned Dawn Patrol movies, also came out around twenty years after the First World War and right on the cusp of the Second - could acknowledge mutual humanity. That's just what the Germans want you to think.

Second edit: Apologies to come back to this, but truly the more WWI media I encounter, the more frustrated at 1917 I get. Journey's End, a play written by a WWI veteran that premiered in 1928, has nothing but sympathy for the German soldiers in the same miserable plight as the British ones. The final scene of Paths of Glory shows how the brutality of war has horrific effects on German civilians. Even Lawrence of Arabia, which decidedly does not show the Ottomans in a good light, portrays the real-life mistreatment and slaughter of Ottoman soldiers, prisoners, and civilians out of vengeance as a terrible thing. All of these were written around 50-90 years before 1917, and are capable of understanding that the enemy consists of complex human beings. Yet here comes 1917 in 2019, pushing rhetoric more in line with warmongers than those who suffered it.

#red randomness #red reviews #wwi #i don't want to tag 1917 because it's not really fair to the people who *did* like the movie to go and be mean on their fan tag #but i did want to post it on my account nevertheless #because this movie makes me want to punch a wall #will red reviews be a new series? maybe not lmao. we'll see.

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frickinsleepdeprived · 1 year

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What kind of movie genres do you think the hashiras would like? Also, if they had to pick a favorite horror movie, what would each of their's be?

heheheheheheeeeee say less let's fuckin gooooo-

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Muichiro:

He's still a kid, but at the same time he's still very mature for his age

Therefore, regardless if he's a hashira or not, I think he'd get a knack out of animated movies, specifically either Pixar or even ghibli movies

I mean come on, he became a hashira at such a young age

Let the kid have his creature comforts

As for his favorite horror movie, like in my previous post, he leans towards the Japanese version of "The Ring"

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Mitsuri:

Though the love hashira, she doesn't really get a kick out of traditional hallmark movies especially the Christmas ones

With that said though, I don't doubt that because of her past and romanticizing the concept of love she'd be super into romantic comedies, or possibly even dramatic comedies.

She just likes having a good laugh every once in a while. Especially if she's feeling lonely or whatever else she might be feeling

Yo girl gotta have some kind of outlet one way or another

As for horror movies, I think she'd really like the "scary movie" series, specifically the first one that mocks the movie "Scream"

...

Obanai:

He's definitely a more serious type, that's for sure

I mean look at him, he's comically condescending at best

But he can obviously have his serious moments

And although he'll watch whatever Mitsuri likes, because that's the only girl he tolerates in general. I have a feeling he really likes any kind of action comedy. So movies like "Chips", "Game Night", and "Cocaine Bear" are just a few of his favorites.

Mitsuri actually suggested the genre to him, saying that he needed to "lighten up and live a bit"

So he gave them a watch and he just had a blast, so did his snake friend

As for his favorite horror movie, anything having to do with animals is definitely his go to. However he takes a particular liking to the movie "Anaconda"

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Gyomei:

I can't see him being into anything other than historical fiction when it comes to movies. Or movies based off of history, I headcanon that he has a knack for learning as much as he can

Movies like "Dunkirk", "Schindler's List", "Saving Private Ryan", and "All Quiet on the Western Front" are a few of his favorites. (Also I highly recommend checking out Schindler's List it's really good!)

Due to the fact that he's blind, I feel like he'd also like the fact that because the movies have such great audio quality (most of the time) he'd be even more immersed into it just by listening.

As for his favorite horror movie, it would definitely have to be some kind of religious horror movie like "The Nun"

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Sanemi:

Mans may be traumatized from when he was a kid but that won't stop him from enjoying a good action movie

"Extraction", "The Gray Man", "Gemini Man", and "Six Underground" happen to be a few of his favorites

And yes I know it's a little cliche for a hashira, but you have to admit this dude wants to fight anything and everything half the time (albeit it's not his fault given what he's been through)

At least this gives him a healthy outlet just to at least watch people be eradicated in a way lol

As for his favorite horror movie, he likes the movie "Saw", the suspense gets him going and completely engaged in it

...

Shinobu:

Ol' girl definitely is a sucker for a feel good comedy

"Crazy Rich Asians", "The Devil Wears Prada", "A Dog's Purpose", and "Lala Land" happen to be a few of her favorites

Shinobu's job doesn't leave very much room for rejoicing half the time, especially when the corps loses someone so suddenly

So these types of movies give her a sense of hope, along with a good laugh here and there

As for her favorite horror movie, and idk if this is considered horror more than say a slasher film, but I headcanon she'd like "The Purge"

If she really wanted to, given her background, she'd eradicate everyone and everything in sight. But why do that when you can watch a movie about it? lol

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Giyuu:

Mans has also been through some shit, but like Sanemi, it won't stop him from watching a good movie, specifically psychological thrillers

Movies, as stated before, like "The Prodigy", "Silence of the Lambs", and "Us" are a few of his favorites

He just likes the thrill of having to guess what comes next, it keeps his mind busy and focused on something other than his past

As for an actual horror movie, I think he'd like the movie "Annabelle: Creation" since Rengoku has talked his ear off about it so much that he gave in, watched it, and actually likes it lol

...

Rengoku:

Fire man loves a good movie about witchcraft

Yes witchcraft but nothing malicious

"Practical Magic", "Coven", and "Bewitched" happen to be some of his favorites

He has no real reason to like them, but he just likes how they're portrayed and how it proves that magic could basically be anywhere

He's also just a huge kid at heart so can ya blame him? Lol

As far as horror movies, he really likes "Childsplay", he just finds it fascinating how real life objects like dolls and even the most basic of items can be extremely haunted

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Tengen:

Mans has three wives. So naturally rather than a singular movie, unless its like three hours long, he'd enjoy a movie series

He likes Marvel and DC movies, as well as the "Fast and Furious" series, "Lord of the RIngs" series, the "Narnia" series

Basically name any movie that has multiple sequels, he likes it lol

As far as an actual horror movie, he really likes "The Exorcist", maybe even going as far as "Evil Dead"

He likes something that will give him and his wives a good scare

......

Okayyyyyy that's that lol that took me way longer than I had anticipated. Who knew that this would wrack my brain to oblivion lmaooo. Regardless I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you want to see next!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer headcanons #kny headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba headcanons

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no-face-no-shame · 2 years

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"His face had an expression of calm, as though almost glad the end had come"

I've just finished watching the Netflix adaptation of "All Quiet on the Western Front" and I have some thoughts. The first one being - I haven't seen such marvelous screen adaptation in a while, despite the changes introduced to the plot. So if you're any interested in what I have to say, let me elaborate.

I'm a big fan of anti-war literature, though "fan" might be a bit of a strange way of phrasing it. But I've read enough of the "genre classics" to have some general knowledge of how those stories are usually developed (might be just me being Easter European. Specifically Polish. We know something about wars.) And AQotWF is one of my favourites, alongside "Catch 22" and "King Rat." Throughout the whole movie I was in awe of how well it translates the atmosphere of the book. How well it establishes the characters, especially Kat (I'll talk about the characters later.) You immediately submerge into their world, you feel for them and you're anxious whenever they go into battle. My big problem with modern movies is how they just don't let you connect with the characters by rushing the plot. Here it's not a thing. AQotWF says exactly what it wants and how it wants.

The visuals are spectacular. I took some screenshots I'm planning on redrawing due to how beautifully filmed this movie is. And, finally, it's not too dark!! You can see what's happening even in scenes located in bunkers or taking place at night! I freaking missed that so much. The same goes for sound - you understand what the characters say (my knowledge of German is VERY limited, still I often didn't need the subtitles because the dialogues were recorded clearly.) The lighting does miracles, it perfectly supports the mood. The usage of colour is great. I'm a big fan of close-up shots (details can add so much) and I love how this movie delivers the best of it, with focusing on the faces and especially eyes.

The music deserves its own paragraph. Scarce, used only when needed, but what an effect it gives... Again, one of the best soundtracks I've heard in a while. There wasn't a single scene where I thought to myself "can y'all cut the damn music", which happens to me more often than I wish it did. Especially the main theme uses a lot of sounds that remind of metal, of shots and explosions, perfectly matching what you see. And the music in the very last scene is just beautiful and gentle. I heard something similar in my head while finishing the book. Peace and relief.

Costumes? So damn good. Finally a movie where the costumes are well-made, with precision and care. Another reason why it's so easy to immediately get into the presented world - you just believe it's real due to what you see. Hairstyles, clothes, make-up. Everything is very realistic.

The same goes for the special effects, both in terms of explosions/shots and the corpses. The scene with tanks and flamethrowers was a shocking experience even to me, someone used to war movies, due to how real it seemed. The tanks emerge from the mist like animals, some kind of monsters. Mind you, WW1 was the first time tanks were used and they weren't as common as in WW2. The absolute hysteria of the soldiers is so real because they indeed had no idea what to do while facing a tank. The sets are very detailed, the bleak views of the battlefield and faded, winter forests are again a visual masterpiece.

Now the changes. To me the most questionable change done was Kat's death. I prefer the book version - it was more moving. On the other hand, the nonsense of his death in the movie creates his own quality. He survived a war waged by adult men just to be killed by a boy over a few eggs. Eggs that for both sides might mean either survival or death of starvation. It wasn't the stupid generals, bullets and tanks that were his end - the poor farmer boy who knew his family will starve was. Still, I'd prefer to see the book version of events. While reading I was touched by Paul's desperation and dedication to saving his friend, and by Kat who wasn't able to tell Paul that he's been hit in the head, meaning that the wound was fatal. Paul's endeavour in carrying Kat across the battlefield, at some point already a dead body, was a great summary of how during war your effort might mean nothing just because you happen to be unlucky. If it was about skill, Kat would survive. From all of them, Kat should. But he was unlucky that one damn time. When the war was basically over, he lost his own.

Another difference was the fate of Tjaden. In the book, it was Kemmerich who was shot in the leg and died because of an amputation. Here, we have Tjaden who got shot, though he doesn't let the wound kill him - he commits suicide using a fork. A pretty brutal scene I was kind of expecting at the very secnd I saw the way he looked at the fork in his hand. Interesting take on human desperation - he didn't want to live as a disabled person as it would make it impossible for him to work as a policeman (his biggest dream.) This change is quite alright with me. I know it was probably done to not introduce more characters (Kemmerich), though I'd like to see the motive of the boots being taken by Müller and then given to Paul when Müller died as well. The conflict between not wanting your friend to die and such a down-to-earth matter like wanting better boots, in the end turning out to be meaningless, is an important thing to include. Still, the change wasn't that significant and it certainly wasn't a negative one.

And then Paul's death. I really appreciate the fact that the main character of the story dies because that was the only way for his story to end. And he dies at the very end of the war, as if because he had nothing else to do. He wasn't able to return to his old life. There was nothing left of it - at that point his mother was probably already dead due to her illness and he couldn't just go back to his town and live like nothing happened. Especially surrounded by people like his father, who didn't understand the changes done to him by the war. Paul's friends were dead. He'd be able to live with that, even though there was no one left of his class. Who would he study with? But Kat was gone too and that was too much. Paul gladly accepts his death because he's died already a long time ago, during the first time on battlefield. What was left after that was a moving body that didn't have much in common with the joyful student who'd once inhabited it.

The gesture of climbing up the stairs of the bunker, into the light of the day, is a beautiful visual metaphor. We walks around the trenches and in the background we see soldiers of both sides just sitting or gathering their dead. A second ago they were killing each other. But now it's 11 o'clock. Now it's peace. And the young boy, so similar to Paul from the beginning of the movie, takes his scarf, a scarf that has once belonged to someone else, someone who had died way earlier and who was known by Paul, not by the boy. The object is carried on even though the memory died. One of my favourite things added to the movie.

To sum things up - spectacular movie. Very worth watching, even if you're not into this genre. And if you haven't read the book, do yourself a favour and read it. It's not very long and I believe it's one of the stories you just should know.

If you read all of that, here is some warm soup -> 🥘🍲 and some bread to go with it -> 🍞

#all quiet on the western front #movies #movie review #netflix #faceless #yeah remember that one peter rabbit review i wrote? i might be back on that bs even tho like 2 ppl read it #im westen nichts neues

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thegeneralreturns · 2 years

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If I Had to Rank the Best Picture Nominees

From worst to first...

10. TRIANGLE OF SADNESS - Of the seemingly never-ending buffet of 2022 movies that had a hate boner for the rich, the Academy selected the one that wasn't as entertaining as The Menu, wasn't as righteous as Glass Onion, and wasn't as straight-the-fuck-up mean as Bodies Bodies Bodies. But it was obvious and trite enough for most third graders to lose patience with, and it's the English language debut of an esteemed Swedish director. So here, have a Best Picture nomination. Oh, and a Palme d'Or!

9. ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT - To watch the 2022 All Quiet on the Western Front is to miss the hell out of the 1930 version. Even ninety-three years after its debut, Lewis Milestone's classic is a stark and primal thing that laid the groundwork for depicting combat on film. So no matter how good this new version's intentions are (and director Edward Berger's intentions are indeed very good), we're still watching kids play dress up. All sheen and no impact.

8. ELVIS - It was one of the internet's favorite hobbies this past year to flip Tom Hanks an ungodly amount of shit for his garish performance as this film's Colonel Tom Parker. And yeah, he's terrible, but given the rest of the movie around him, could you really say he was wrong? Baz Luhrmann likes to make glitzy and over-the-top fairy tales with sad endings, and that kind of broad artifice is part of the game. The problem with Elvis is that in the middle of it is Austin Butler's gritty, realistic, and quite frankly brilliant method performance. He doesn't fit in. That, or the movie can't contain him. I'd have liked to have seen the movie Butler thought he was in. I'd have liked to have seen the movie Luhrmann was trying to craft around him. I don't think I got either.

7. AVATAR: THE WAY OF WATER - The first hour is great, the third hour is terrific, but the second hour goes all in on a shapeless nature documentary about the seafaring N'avi. That sounds good on paper, but... wait, if James Cameron's writing something, it doesn't sound good on paper either. I can't say I disliked the film, no one can do big quite like Cameron, but I saw it with all the 3D Imax bells and whistles. Once that avenue of consumption is non-viable, I don't see this film working all that well dramatically.

6. TAR - Boy, Todd Field really wanted to make a Kubrick film, didn't he? It's all there, from the deep-focus shots of clean environments, to the low rumble on the soundtrack that portends dread in every scene. Hell, Field even got Kubrick's habit of taking decades in between films down pat. If I don't seem as up-with-people about Cate Blanchett's performance as everyone else, it's because it's part of the machinery. So was Nicholson in The Shining. They're both brilliant performances, but they're not the kind of brilliant you notice on the first viewing. Field wanted to make a Kubrick movie, and for two hours of the 154 minute runtime, he got closer than any of his contemporaries ever have. The problem here is, if Field wants to make a movie to The Old Master's Standard, then he's going to need to live up to The Old Master's Standard. Kubrick would not have gotten away with having a character we've never seen before come in, baldly state the main character's arc as though we were children who needed to get it, and then vanish. This previously spellbinding film never recovers after that, leading to a third act that just... feels... gross. I just think it's weird that while a certain other Best Picture nominee is getting all due credit for its Asian representation, Tar depicts its lead's personal and professional rock bottom as having to actually live in Asia.

5. TOP GUN: MAVERICK - Unlike Avatar, which needed a theatrical experience the price of a small yacht to work, I watched Top Gun: Maverick on my TV, and thought it was just dandy. Tom Cruise threw hundreds of millions of dollars at the screen to convince us that fighter jets were cool. And he was right, too, fighter jets are fuckin' rad. A simple (some might even say "paint-by-numbers") story that's old as the hills subtly lays the groundwork needed for a final half hour that's the tightest, best edited, most well-constructed third act to an action movie I've seen since... Jesus, A New Hope? The more I think about this movie, the more I like it. And this is coming from someone who hated the first one.

4. WOMEN TALKING - How did this movie get the reputation as "The Vegetables" of this crop of nominees, and not Triangle of Sadness, which is so tediously pretentious as to have a Russian capitalist and an American communist drunkenly screeching quotes at each other? Women Talking is about the women in a Mennonite colony reckoning with their sexual assault by the men in their community, and deliberating on whether to stay at that colony, or to leave, and director Sarah Polley deserves all the credit in the world for both making this cinematic, and actually finding moments of levity and recognition. These are women who have undergone something terrible, yes, but they are also women who have history and get on each others' nerves. Their kids screw around in the barn and play jokes on each other. It doesn't sound like much, but it matters a great deal, as through this, we see what these women are potentially giving up by leaving. It's these moments at the periphery that makes the core all the more devastating.

3. THE FABELMANS - I've seen accusations that The Fabelmans is Steven Spielberg mythologizing himself, but that's grossly unfair. This is America, and we did it first. If anyone even slightly interested in film history laid down the tracks for him, then why can't Spielberg drive the train? This is a thinly-veiled, genuinely moving, and wonderfully entertaining Roman a clef of his own life packed with terrific performances, and when the aliens get here in a thousand years after we've blown ourselves to bits, and they ask for evidence that Seth Rogen can act, at least we can say we have it. It's humble without being self-lacerating, and it's the fun kind of meta instead of the irritating kind. Speaking of which, kudos to Spielberg for giving us the funniest and most satisfying final shot since Knives Out.

2. THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN - I've rarely seen a comedy that left me this unsettled. Or a tragedy that made me laugh so much. Colin Farrell has never been better as a man on an Irish island in the 1920s whose preoccupation with his own image as a nice guy threatens to engulf all of the things and people he ever loved, from his sister, to his friend that doesn't want to talk to him anymore, to his pet donkey. If Everything Everywhere All At Once was the Zoomer ignition point for the kind of nihilism that engenders all-encompassing love and radical hope, then The Banshees of Inisherin feels like this ancient force of queasy malevolence that doesn't give a shit about placidity or empty gestures.

In any other year, I'd call The Banshees of Inisherin the best in show with a smile, and go on my merry way. However two guys named Daniel found out how to activate God mode.

And the best picture of the Best Pictures is...

EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE - How many times in a given year--Hell, in a given decade--do we see a film that earnestly and actively tries to be the best ever made? People want to communicate, or they want to make money, but Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert throw the immigrant experience, kung fu fights, generational trauma, the multiverse, nihilistic despair, butt plugs, and the ebbs and flows of the mother-daughter bond at each other at relativistic speeds in an effort to go down in history. And Holy Hell, it worked! Far from cancelling each other out, these disparate elements cohere into a tear-jerking, mind-blowing, thrilling whole. It's not the actual, literal best movie ever made, but I wouldn't dream of knocking anyone for being taken with how close The Daniels got, because by God I'm taken with it too. I've seen everyone and their mom point at any number of reasons as to why this film reached so many people in the way that it did, but maybe, just maybe, Everything Everywhere All at Once blew up because we haven't seen this kind of ambition in a long, long time. It feels good to see. And we want more.

#oscars #academy awards #everything everywhere all at once #the banshees of inisherin

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project1939 · 1 year

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Day 31- Film: Kangaroo

Release date: May 16th

Studio: 20th Century Fox

Genre: Western

Director: Lewis Milestone

Producer: Robert Bassler

Actors: Maureen O’Hara, Peter Lawford

Plot Summary: Richard Conner is stuck in Australia and is willing to do anything to get the money to go back to Lonon. He teams up with a gambler to rob a casino, but the owner is murdered in the mele. Now the two men are on the run, but they may have just found the perfect hideout on the remote ranch of a local booze-hound.

My Rating (out of five stars): **½

I feel bored just writing about this, sorry to say. I was absolutely shocked when I made the connection that Lewis Milestone directed this! He directed one of my favorite early films, 1930’s All Quiet on the Western Front, and he also directed the very moving 1939 version of Of Mice and Men. This film was the absolute opposite of moving. The word that kept coming into my head watching it was “cold.” It didn’t give me lots of reasons to genuinely care about any of the characters, or about anything, really.

The Good:

It was the first big film actually filmed on location in Australia, and it showed. The Technicolor in this wasn’t the best, but even so, the scenery and the vibe in the background was very effective. Most of it took place on the Outback, and the feeling of immensity and emptiness was intense. I swear I felt dust in my clothes and hair after seeing all the dust blowing around everywhere in the film.

Peter Lawford wasn’t too bad in this. He was pretty likeable, even if I didn’t find his character to be so.

The Bad:

I just didn’t care about the characters, especially Gamble the gambler (Get it? Subtle!) and Dell, Maureen O’Hara’s character. Dell was basically a cardboard cutout “stand around and worry about the men” female role.

The plot didn’t keep me interested either. Once the outlaws got to the ranch, I was interested in the location photography, but that was about it.

I feel a little iffy about how the Aboriginals were portrayed. I think most of the intention was good, because they didn’t turn them into adversaries, but it kind of had a dehumanizing “look at these exotic creatures” vibe. It wasn’t all bad, but some of it rubbed me the wrong way. I do believe they actually used Aboriginal people in the roles, though, which is great.

The Technicolor just did not look good at all in this. It was an MGM film, and if you compare it to Singin in the Rain, the difference is cavernous. I’m sure some of it was the lower quality print I saw, and the fact that Singin in the Rain has been given a loving restoration, but even so... it did not look very good.

WTF is up with the movie poster? We have a Godzilla-like kangaroo, Aboriginal people that look crazed, and two people on a horse who look nothing like Lawford or O’Hara! It also just looks like Dante’s Inferno behind them. Whoever painted this must have had too much Outback dust in their eyes (or head!).

#project1952 #1952 #project1952 day 31 #100 films of 1952 #200 films of 1952 #200 films of 1952 film 29

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sannflwrr · 4 years

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The Dog Tag

moodboard creds to @aprilisque your talent is extraterrestrial

Author: sannflwrr

Pairing: Jaebeom x MC

Rating: PG

Warnings: mentions of war, a little bit of angst, military!jb

Summary: It’s the second-coming, and all she wants is to see him one last time.

The world I awaken to is dark, the means of light is the measly blue night lamp which flickers every few seconds. Suppressing a groan, I wake. It’s been months, months of sleeping on the floor, perhaps the effects of sleeping on a brittle and uncomfortable surface is finally starting to show through. The pain is something I can ignore, especially when there’s so many other things of higher importance. One being, the war.

Many call it the Second Coming. It felt much similar to the end of the world, I agree. The once empty hospital had become a refuge center for those displaced and without a home after the bombings began. Currently every room was occupied, every bed usurped. As a doctor, my responsibility was to head to the sick bay every morning, take care of as many wounded as I could, and return back to my sleeping quarters late in the evening. My mother shifts on the floor beside me, and I sit up. We’re lucky to still be together. I’m lucky to have her with me still. I never imagined a day where we would be working together side by side, yet seeing her face especially during this difficult era of darkness and gloom, brings back a temporary feeling of hope which I had much before our world went to shit.

The large clock up above on the tall walls says it’s much earlier than the rise of the sun, but I quietly gather the jacket bunched next to me, and exit the room. Mere awareness to the day brought back the memories of yesterday, and the day before…reminding me of what today is.

The halls are dark, asides from the emergency lights which cast them in an uncomfortable green glow. I've become accustomed to this eerie color, and continue down the corridor, and past the couple flights of stairs. The Western Hospital has become a center of hope for many. Those who are here are safe, they say. And they may think so, not realizing that we currently don’t have much defense guarding the place. That government asked Unit 13, which had been surveying the area around the hospital, to pull out months ago. A temporary adjustment they had said. They said that Unit 13 would be back, so that the hospital doesn’t stay unguarded for too long. Today the unit is supposed to return. I wrap the jacket around me tighter, inhaling the remnants of its previous user on it. The smell is almost gone, which makes my heart ache dully. He’s fading from this jacket, and I don’t want to forget him.

I open the door feeding into the main entrance of the hospital, searching the premise for any of my coworkers. I see several, sitting tiredly at what used to be the waiting room. They’re waiting, like so many others, like I am. Waiting for Unit 13 to come back.

Not long after, the sounds of a vehicle approach, must be a van of some sort. Up until now, my pulse had been relatively normal. But now, well, I can’t even think clearly enough to check how fast it is. It’s either he’s here or he’s not. He’s in this car, or he is dead. Hands fisting, I bunch the bottom flaps of his jacket into my fists. I should be ready to accept the latter, death is so common nowadays, it barely touches my conscience. But it would wreck my world if Jaebeom was dead. Many of my coworkers rush out to greet them, but I find myself planted in my position, unable to move.

God, I’m so scared.

My mind flicks back to a random instance, before all this. Jaebeom had been a part of my life for so many years, it was impossible to think of one without him in it. We had been together, unofficially and officially, for so long, I couldn’t think of one without him. We’re sitting in my old apartment, it had been Valentine’s Day. I completely forgot about the holiday, giving that I tended to overlook these things and poured my entire being into the residency I had obtained. Jaebeom had surprised me at my door, knowing I was home, with a giant bag filled with groceries. Let’s make dinner together, he had said. Minutes later I realized what the day was, and stared at him open-mouthed. He only laughed at me in response, brushing his hand over mine.

I look at them. They’re tired, and worn out. My hands are not as soft as they used to be, back when I used to take particular care of them to make sure they stay soft. All that changed after the war began. I stopped wearing makeup, stopped cutting my hair, stopped wearing anything particular to my fancy, asides from the dark blue scrubs I carried. Like the ones I wear now. My hair is always in a simple braid, definitely much longer than it used to be. I look older, and feel more tired than I actually am. Some days, I am so close to giving up. Then I remember my mother, who sleeps next to me.

And I remember Jaebeom, who’s outside on the frontlines, every day.

Soldiers always wear these dog tags as necklaces, an inexpensive piece of identification, a silver chain with a tag identifying their name. It has no real purpose aside from that, no tracking device inside. When Jaebeom had received his, he gave it to me. Maybe it was his equivalent for something else, I don’t know. Legally, there’s nothing binding us together, though I think about it whenever I’m trying to fall asleep. Between all of this, the bombings, the death, worrying about day-to-day survival, the idea of marriage didn’t come up as conversation between us. He didn’t even say anything about it to me the day he gave me his necklace, the day he left with Unit 13. But god, that look in his eyes. I don’t think I would ever forget. It spoke so much louder than any of his words.

And there it is again. My hands loosen against the jacket, sliding against my sides. They’ve started to walk in, the other professionals are shouting orders to them about identification and certain protocols, though muffled. He’s at the back of the group, and I know I’m not imagining it, because he’s staring back at me, equally shocked. I don’t know if that word even covers how I feel, months of feeling sad, lonely, desperate, angry.

Hopeful.

Why is he shocked? I would have asked, had my sanity been at its norm. Why is he shocked? I’m not the one who’s going into the red front everyday. But I know later, after taking one step in his direction, that turns into several until my face is buried in his shoulder. Maybe it was that Jaebeom saw so many people die too. Maybe he felt just as desperate as I did.

“Jae, oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” He repeats softly, both his arms squeezing around me. It’s been so long. He smells the same, sounds the same, it makes me want to cry. It would be a cruel dream if I were to wake up now. But he feels so so real, part of me — no all of me — believes that he is, in fact, here. He’s back.

I still have a couple hours before my shift begins, finding myself sitting in the creepy green hallway. Jaebeom leans against the wall, head resting upwards. We’re quiet, not much noise asides from his thumb softly rubbing against the back of my hand.

“You still wear it.” He says, drifting his focus to the necklace I wear.

“Of course.” My eyes shift to his cheek. “Kind of considered it like our version of a promise ring.”

“Promise ring?” Then he laughs, making my insides bubble. “Isn’t that what, like teenagers give to each other when they’re dating?”

I find myself chuckling with him. “Sure. But it is a promise. A promise that you were going to come back.”

“How about the other kind of ring?” Jae asks gently, eyes finding mine, which stare at the wall across from us. “Legally binding, and all.”

A hum escapes my lips. “Hm. I guess this could be that too.”

“Would you want it to be?”

“I wouldn’t mind.” I shake my head. “But it doesn’t take the fact that you still go out there everyday. And one day you might not come back.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, knowing well that it’s true. He has probably seen many make similar promises to their loved ones, only to break it and not return. He has seen many die on the front, it clouds his eyes and turns it stormy. Jaebeom looks down. At least now I know he won’t be going much further than the hospital for a good while. Though the stability between us is not permanent, I know well enough to take advantage of every moment possible. This world feels like the end, and I would not like things to go down without at least some happiness.

“You know, I would have…” Jaebeom starts, looking at his hands. Then turns his head to me. “Had the bombings not been there, I would have asked you.”

“Had you asked, I would have said yes.” I respond simply. I glance at my watch, it buzzes. I have an hour left. “Though, you didn’t exactly have to ask. When the war started, I assumed we were there.”

With this, it’s hard to have uncertainties. Had things been normal, maybe I wouldn’t have been too sure about taking that step with Jaebeom. But now that the sky is crumbling and many days are red, I know exactly what I want. And he knows too.

“Was it scary?” I find myself asking, genuinely curious, but equally concerned for the things he has seen. Somewhere between our conversation, we scooted closer, constantly one limb touching another, his arm wraps around my shoulder. Jaebeom nods.

“Yeah. I was scared that I might die at any moment. Obviously death scares me, but your face kept me pushing through. I just wanted to see you again, missed you so much.”

“Whenever you want to talk about Jae, I’m always here.” I pat his knee. “But I think you really should get some sleep. You’ve been through a lot, just take some time to sit back. You’re okay now.” I move away from him just to get a better look. “You’re back.”

The kiss is different from the first time after seeing him in months. That one had been desperate, thousands of emotions flying at each other in distress. My elbows hook around his neck, the momentum knocking the both of us back against the wall. Jaebeom snorts against my mouth. Though the bigger problem has not gone away, it makes it that much tolerable when he’s around. When he’s here, I’m okay.

“God,” He mumbles after pulling away. “I can’t even tell you how much I love you. If I could, I would totally marry you.”

I smile into him. “One of the many things I love about you Jaebeom, you always seem to know what I’m thinking too.”

#jaebeom #got7jb #got7 jb #the great war #second coming

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years

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A Softer Side Part 1

Karl was done with Delos Incorporated and their “Westworld”, the entire clusterfuck that had been the slice of a fictional western. Sure the pay was good, he’d thought the progression of his career would have been better, but as it turned out, they were all a bunch of computer nerds and fucking loonies playing god with AI. He was glad to see the back of that contract and sighed heavily as he stepped into his office.

“Back to the fucking grind.” He muttered as he sat at his desk, the depressing grey paint making the room appear much smaller and that much more suffocating.

It wasn’t that he hated his job, he thought as he logged into his computer to open his current case load, it just lacked excitement, something different to keep his mind sharp, his skills honed. He felt as if he was stagnating, the job had become monotonous. Bad guy fucks up, go out and catch bad guy, put bad guy in prison, watch bad guy walk on legal technicalities. If only he could be permanently attached to the private sector that caught the bad guys and shipped them off to Hades 6 or Hera 4, off planet facilities that housed the most wicked criminals.

******

Deep into catching up on a case there was a soft tap at the door. “Hey boss.”

Strand glanced up briefly and went back to the report he was reading. “Jerry.” He said his tone terse.

“I think you’re going to want to see this.” He said with a grim face.

“You think, or you know?” He growled, if there was one thing Karl hated it was indecisiveness. He was brutally honest, abrasive, and when it was called for violent. He expected people to get to the point quickly, hand over the information, and then fuck off until he needed them, never one for gossip or dancing around the topic. Most hated him for it, his boss didn’t, which was the only reason he still had a job after Westworld.

“I know.” Jerry said, finding his spine and stepping into Karl’s office and closing the door.

“Give me the short version.” Karl said as Hunt handed him the report, skimming over the highlights as Jerry told him much the same.

“It aligns with a semi cold case I’ve had on my desk for the past few months. There’s something about that one I couldn’t let go, you know?”

“I know.” He did, he had a few of them himself that he even took with him when he went over to the Delos debacle. Some just never leave you.

“I’m sure it’s the same gang as the Peter Jenson case. Location fits, state of the neighborhood etc.” Jerry fidgeted, antsy to get going.

“You want to check it out?” Karl asked and his brow furrowed at the witness account he was currently reading. Something about this called to him, there was more going on, that undeniable itch between the shoulder blades he couldn’t ignore.

“If you clear it yeah I wanna go poke around.” Jerry said with a touch more confidence. He was a good kid even though he was still so rookie green.

“I’ll come with.” He growled, slightly distracted as he pulled up one of his own cold cases.

“Something chimed for you too didn’t it?” Jerry smirked.

“Maybe, and that’s a big maybe. We all have cold cases Jerry and we have to go where the gut feelings take us.” He opened the file and flipped through to the infants description even though he knew it by heart as if the child had been right in front of him, not that she’d look anything like it now thirty plus years later. “Get your coat.” He breathed. Could it be her? “And wipe that damn smile off your face this isn’t a fucking social visit.” The rookie’s face dropped as he scurried away to collect his coat and notebook. “Talk to me sweet girl.” He murmured. “I’m looking for you, I haven’t given up, talk to me.” Closing out his case file he grabbed his weapon and coat and headed for the elevator. He was in a mood, she always put him in a mood, and the kid had copped it. “Sorry.” He said gruffly as they stood in the elevator.

“Sok, I was an idiot and you were right. This isn’t a social visit.” Jerry mumbled.

Karl stared at the ceiling and sighed to clear his head, he’d have to knock the green off this kid fast if he was going to make it past his first year as his partner. “You know they stuck you with an asshole of a partner right?”

“No, they stuck me with the best.” Hunt said quietly as he strode off the elevator toward their car leaving Strand standing there in slight disbelief.

“Well shit!” Muttering he walked to the car, his long strides eating up the concrete, he didn’t like compliments either. He wasn’t the best, far from it, he was an asshole and preferred it that way.

******

The car ride to the house was quiet, Karl driving while Jerry ran a cursory search over the tenant and told him what they could expect.

“A Mr. Arthur Donovan lives in the house alone, has always lived there alone since his wife died in childbirth. Damn that’s rough.”

“Dig into Mr. Donovan.” He growled as the traffic came to a standstill. “Priors, arrests, blips, fucking everything. I want to know what he had for breakfast three years ago on April 22.” The itch between his blades was tingling. What were they walking into a trap, fire fight, bomb? Something was off.

“Your spidey senses tingling boss?” Jerry asked as his fingers flew across the keys.

“My what?” He glared at the rookie.

“Spidey senses, you know, Spider-Man.” Jerry dropped it once he saw the murderous look on Strand’s face. “Never mind.” He sighed. “Mr. Arthur Donovan, age 64, retired janitor at multiple women’s and children’s hospitals. That must have been rough after his wife died.”

“Same work history, different name. And that’s if he even had a wife.” Karl muttered, his fingers tapping the steering wheel in frustration. “Check the wife.”

“Wife, Aileen Donovan, wow pretty girl, died giving birth to a baby girl who also died, she was 27.” Jerry stopped and looked at Strand. “Wait, you think this is him? The dude that’s been kidnapping infant girls for the last thirty something years and raising them up to be sold?” Jerry’s voice caught.

“If the shoe fits.” Karl snarled as the traffic eased forward at a snails pace. It fit, a little too well and why would he go back to his real name, or was he changing the name of his wife along with it all?

“That’s one of your colds isn’t it?” The kids voice was gentle.

“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate, how could he tell this kid that thought he was a god among men that he’d almost had the guy and watched him skate, slip through the net he’d cast because he was still too green himself to know any better.

“Shit boss. This makes my gang banger case look like nothing.” Hunt said quietly. “They’ve been after that guy for decades.”

“It isn’t nothing, you follow all leads, you do the job, you pursue every possible angle. My cold case isn’t anymore important than you fresh one. They both matter.” Snarling at the traffic Karl flicked on the lights, pulled onto the verge and got them out of the jam. It wasn’t exactly by the book and at times Karl didn’t give a shit, especially when he might be close to finding her.

******

They pulled up out the front of Arthur Donovan’s house and sat for a hot minute. Karl scanned the area taking note of the exits, neighbors, foot traffic and lack there of.

“You just know he has to have an escape plan.” He muttered more to himself than to Jerry. “Go knock on the door and ask your questions. If it’s the same guy he might know what I look like and I don’t want him spooked.” He said lowering the seat back so he wouldn’t be seen if Arthur looked in the car. “Call my cell and leave the line open. And before you ask, no this isn’t standard operating procedure. I don’t want him to rabbit if he smells something off. Go in ask your questions about your case only.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it Jerry. You say anything about those kids, that case we may lose the first fresh lead we’ve had in nearly twenty years.” He glared at the kid.

“Message received boss.”

“Get your head in the Peter Jensen case, that’s where it needs to be.”

Strand watched as the kid dialed his cell number and climb out of the car. Placing his call on mute he relaxed back and let the case filter through his mind. “Don’t blow this for me kid.” He sighed. Was she in there, he wondered, was she even still alive? “Yeah she’s still alive.” He sighed as he heard the knock on the door through the cell phone. “She was his first, she has to still be alive.” Karl listened to Jerry ask his questions, press for some details, and leave it at a ’were just door knocking for any information on Peter Jensen’. Karl would have pushed a little harder, but that was Karl, he was a hard ass and would make a stone cower given enough time.

“Is he watching?” Strand asked as Jerry got into the car.

“Yeah, it spooked him. I’m sorry.”

“You did good kid. Now we go back to the office and dig. I want fucking everything on this guy and how it correlates to those girls. Something’s fucking off.”

“It felt like it when I was standing there. An odd sense something wasn’t quite right.”

“Learn to take note of those feelings, they’re rarely wrong. If he’s not involved with my case or yours, he’s involved in something he shouldn’t be.” Karl looked at the kid. “He still watching?”

“Not that I can see without it being obvious. The curtains are flat and still.” He said typing furiously to get his notes into his report while they were fresh.

“Good enough.” Karl raised his seat, turned the key in the ignition, and drove off barely giving anyone looking in the car enough time to be sure it was him driving. “When we get back write up your report on Jensen and then read the file on Jane Doe 69384.”

“Your cold?”

“Yeah, we need to dig and dig deep, you want in?”

“Fuck yeah.” Jerry was all but vibrating in his seat. “I know some of it from the news reports.”

“Not all of it kid, there was a lot we left out, deliberately.” He set the car to cruise and relaxed back. “Read the file, then we’ll talk. This gets our attention until we run out of leads again or catch the son of a bitch.”

“We catch him this time.” Jerry said gently. “This time he goes away.”

The kids sentiment choked Karl up, this case had him by the balls. If only I had your faith in me kid, he thought inwardly. I’ve failed her so many times now I’ve lost count.

“Does it keep you awake at night?” Jerry asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate, the kid didn’t need his nightmares, he would have ones of his own soon enough.

******

Strand left Jerry to do as he’d instructed and headed into his office to start digging into Arthur Donovan. Jerry had sent him over everything he’d found on their drive over to Donovan’s and it set that itch alight as he scanned the hospitals he’d worked at. “You fucker.” He seethed. “You careful fucker.” The hospitals didn’t match while he was working there, the timeline was off for each snatch by two or three months after he’d moved on. “No way was it going to be that easy.” He poured over the entire case file, witness reports from the mothers, hospital staff, forensic evidence, which wasn’t much, and it was tugging on heartstrings no one knew he had. Karl Strand was a hard ass, he didn’t have heart strings, except for her, except for these poor girls that had been snatched from loving parents and used and abused before being sold like cattle. Yes he had fucking heart strings for them and a raging hatred for the man that had eluded him for so long.

Jerry knocked on his door and handed him the report on the Jensen case and looked at the twelve banker boxes of files stacked in the corner of Strand’s office. “Can I take one?”

“Sure. Each box holds about ten case files.”

“He’s taken that many?” The rookie visibly blanched.

“Yeah, he’s slowed down in the past few years. I used to get about three new cases a year before I left for that Westworld shithole. I’m hoping it stays quiet and we don’t have to add anymore.”

“Hard fucking same.” Jerry hesitated before placing a hand on one of the boxes, the kid had respect for the dead, that was what endeared him to Karl. They weren’t just case files or a job, they were people.

“Their stories aren’t pretty.”

“No, I imagine not. Did they ever find the ones that were sold?”

“No, were still looking.” Karl’s tone was flat, something else he’d failed at. Though it was difficult to find someone when you knew nothing about them or what they looked like. “The DB’s are likely related, there’s no way to be sure until we have him in a cage and put the thumb screws to him.”

“Who are you looking for?” He asked tentatively.

“His first.”

“Makes sense.”

“How so?” It intrigued him that the rookie would say that.

“Pedifiles, sex rings, human trafficking, the perpetrators almost always keep their first one close. It reminds them of the power they have, the ease at which they achieved abducting the person. It’s also, most of the time, their undoing. If you find her she’s going to know everything about every child that he stole, every in and out of his operation. She’s the linchpin.”

Spoken like a thirty year veteran, Karl thought. “You’ll do.” He said nodding. “You’ll do just fine kid.” The slight smile told Strand, Jerry was keeping his jubilation at being praised to a minimum, the kid was trying. “Book a conference room, set it up, get reading, I’ll be in shortly. We work this until it goes cold again or we nail this asshole.”

“I’m down with that boss.” Jerry stopped at the door before he went through it and turned to Karl.

“What is it?”

“Do you think the neighbors might have seen her?” He asked meekly.

“I doubt it, but we’ll certainly be asking when we canvas.” He nodded his head to Jerry to say get out and went back to his own report to Meekland.

An hour or so later Meekland knocked on Strands door. “Ma’am.” He offered a seat but she remained standing, that glint in her eye that she wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.

“You’re testing my patients Strand. Do you really have time to open this case, again?” She asked. Meekland wasn’t some girly girl, she was just as much a hard ass as Strand which was why they go along so well even if it was just sniping at each other. The reality of it they were oil and water.

“I do with Hunt. Somethings off. The kid has good instincts and even he knew something’s screwy when he interviewed Donovan. I’m not saying it’s him, but it damn well could be and I’m not letting it slide because you think I don’t have time. I’ll fucking make time, do it on my own if I have to, but I need to run this out. See where it leads.” He ran his hand over his scalp. “I have to fucking try.”

“Cross you t’s, dot your i’s, and send me a report once you’ve dug into it a bit. I can’t promise you resources, but plead your case and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I have resources if you can’t swing it.” He growled.

“I know you do, but let’s not go that far until we have no other choice.” She studied him a moment. “You’re a good man Strand, even if you are a prickly asshole.” She smirked at his huffed chuckle, that coming from her was as good as winning employee of the year award. “Keep me in the loop.” She said as she turned on her heel and left.

******

Karl walked into the smaller conference room a while later to see Jerry kicked back with a coffee, feet on the table, note pad and case files piled into sections. Maybe a fresh set of eyes was what this case needed he thought.

“Hey boss.” He said without looking up from the current file he had his nose buried in, hand scrawling notes of his own.

“Care to explain what you’re doing with my case files?” He growled.

Without missing a beat he stood and added the file in his hand to one of the stacks. “So I’ve gone through your notes from when these cases came in, the hospitals, as that seemed a good place to start. It’s related to the case more strongly than his name or residence. Each stack is each hospital he abducted children from. There’s one pattern that fits all of these hospitals, the first child was stolen on the date his wife and child died. He only takes girls and there is about a two to three month window where the girls go missing which if I were to guess would be the wife’s birthday and their anniversary. Only three kids per hospital, then he packs up and leaves.”

“But the girls go missing after he finished his employment at each hospital. For example he was in Atlanta working when the girls from Alabama went missing.” Karl pushed.

“I’m guessing he has a house somewhere where he can leave the kids with someone so he can scout the next location.”

“That’s a leap Hunt.”

“I know but...” He shrugged as Karl stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the board.

“It’s a leap I didn’t see.” He sighed. “Run it through, work it, see where it leads you. I wonder if he leaves them with the first girl?” He pondered. “She’d be mid thirties now at least.”

“Brainwashed, tortured, and raised by a monster.” Jerry muttered.

“Indeed. Keep working it, I’ll be back in a few.” He needed some air, and food. Maybe I’m too close, he thought as he stopped off at the burger joint down the street. The memory of the kids mother screaming, grieving in his arms as she begged him to find her, the stupid rookie in him promising her he’d do so. The infant had already been gone sixteen years when he was handed the case, many more had been stolen in that time, the cops too busy to listen to a hysterical mother. The investigation went cold and it was only after the mother visited him to see if there were any developments that he began to dig, on his own time, every night an hour after shift had finished. That’s when he’d uncovered more, when he’d found the details horrific enough to churn even his iron stomach. No one had listened to the mother of the first child taken. She’d been told she was delusional, she was depressed, she was mistaken. Karl had been the one to bust it wide open. Bust it open to watch it go stone fucking cold as things in the department were kept under wraps, swept under the rug, buried. He’d always wondered if it was an inside job or some of the people here were in on it.

That girl would be a few years younger than he was now, mid to late thirties. What do you look like, he wondered? Will I know you when I meet you? Will you help me take this asshole down or has he corrupted you so completely you’ll do anything to get back to him, protect him? “We have to find you first sweet girl.” He muttered as he got onto the elevator. “I will find you.” He swore.

******

Strand came into the conference room to find Jerry in the exact same position as before but with a laptop open and currently searching through a database of some kind.

“Fuel up kid.” He said gruffly and tossed the bag with a burger and fries on the only section of table that wasn’t covered by case files. “Keep the files clean.”

“Thanks.” He blew out a breath, grabbed the food and pushed his chair away from the table to give himself some room. They chowed down in silence and it was only after Jerry had finished and took a few deep breaths that he noticed Strand looking at him.

“You need to get some rack time, if you don’t come up for air it’ll consume you.” Karl said honestly.

“In a bit. I want to show you something.” He pressed a few keys on the laptop and walked Strand through his findings. “I had to dig for info on the wife, I don’t think Donovan’s his legal last name and I don’t think the wife had the child in a hospital. If they did it would be on record. Either that or he’s been changing it as he’s progressed, something along the lines of keeping her alive or with him maybe? Which tells me he either knows how to hack, or he’s got someone on the payroll to do it for him. Speaking of payroll, I want to dig for the money, how much to you think he makes per girl?”

“Six figures at least depending on the buyer.” Strand said flatly, it wasn’t a favorite topic of conversation, but he could see where the kid was going with this, they were dealing with a syndicate not just a lone operator. Something he’d floated past his old partner and it was dismissed just as quickly, that had sparked his curiosity at it being an inside job.

“I think it’s more than that. 120 girls in these boxes at let’s say $100K and change, that’s 12 mil, over thirty something years. It’s a drop in the bucket. I think we’re looking at closer to $800K to a mil per kid, maybe more, and I also think it depends of who they’re going to and at what age they’re sold at.” Jerry wasn’t smiling now.

“Experience and age.” He added bluntly.

“Yeah.” Jerry blew a breath out. “I can sniff through Donovan’s accounts, but I don’t know if I have enough for a warrant to cover my ass.”

“Not yet but we’ll add it to the list.” He tapped his finger on his knee thinking. “Go as deep into the financials as you can without sending up any red flags, keep in on the down low.”

Jerry nodded. “I also believe there are more kids we don’t know about.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A hunch. Three kids a year, ish. Those are the groomed ones, the ones raised to be, for a lack of a better term, a fuck toy for some sicko. Those would be the premium priced merchandise. How do they make their milk money? The day to day?”

“Fuck! You’ve got a point.” Strand stared at the board, why hadn’t he pushed this line of inquiry all those years ago? Now he really felt like an asshole.

“I’m running all homeless girls and kidnappings in the database against dates and places of each infant taken.”

“And?”

“We’re getting hits and it’s still not done.” He glanced at Karl. “I have no clue if they’re related to this case but it’s worth a look.”

“Damn right it’s worth a look.” He was angry at himself for not pushing it sooner. Pulling out his phone he called Meekland. She wasn’t happy at being disturbed at nine at night but that was the job. He laid it out for her and she agreed to come in for a briefing. “What else you got kid, you’re keeping the ace to yourself I can see it.”

“I think he’ll strike again, and soon.” Jerry blew out.

“He hasn’t in a few years what makes you so sure?”

“I think he may have been sick or taking a break, something happened to give him that gap. Retired and took a holiday? Maybe things were too hot? Think about it, his kids birthday is coming up. I have no record of an Arthur Donovan working at any hospitals in the last forever. He’s changed his name again, maybe he changed his supply source? I don’t know boss I’m just thinking out loud here.”

“Where’s he working?”

“That’s the thing, he’s not, he’s retired.”

“Still doesn’t stop him from taking babies.” Strand spat. “And what’s the bet he had different aliases for every day of the fucking week? This guys a ghost.”

“Which is why we need a warrant to dig into his financials and employment records of each hospital. He can change his name but his face is a different story. Facial recognition can pin him pretty solidly.”

“This had better be fucking worth dragging me back here Strand.” Meekland snapped as she walked in.

“Sit down Sarah and listen to the kid, don’t interrupt.” He snapped back. Jerry froze, talking to Karl was one thing but the boss lady, shit! Her arched eyebrow made Jerry gulp. “Go ahead Hunt.” Karl said his eyes never leaving hers.

Jerry gave Meekland the report almost verbatim.

“We need a warrant for what we’ve found and what we’re going to find when we keep digging.”

“Dig first, then the warrant.” She put up her hand. “You and I both know we don’t have enough for one right now. Get me more Jerry and you’ll get your warrant. It’s circumstantial at best but it has weight. Let’s tighten the grip before we spook him.”

“Stakeout.” Karl demanded. “I want him fucking tagged and monitored, I want to know his every fucking move even if I have to go do it myself.”

“You may have to, we don’t have the budget for this Karl.” She snapped. Was she fucking stonewalling him?

“Then I’ll do it on my own time Sarah. I’m not losing the one fucking lead we’ve got.” He snapped and stormed from the room toward his office, Meekland hot on his heels. Jerry was left in their wake and breathed out carefully before getting back to it.

“What is with you?” He raged as she closed his office door.

“What’s with me? You need to take a step back and think about who you’re addressing Strand.” She shot back.

“Don’t throw that in my face Sarah. Why do you fucking stonewall me at every turn on this, they’re solid leads.”

“Because you’re too close to this Karl and it’s consuming you. Yes they’re solid leads I’ll give you and Hunt that. It’s more than what we’ve had to go on in a long time, but we need more and you know it.”

“Then give me some surveillance and let me get it for you.” He snarled and snatched his head away as she went to touch him. He couldn’t get involved with her again, although his body yearned for it, his cock twitching.

“You and I need a good sweaty night together.” She purred, her fingers trailing the buttons of his dress shirt. “I’ve missed you.” He didn’t pull away this time as her fingers trailed his chest.

“You’ve missed my cock.” He quipped, the scent of her stirring his system.

Her smirk told him as much. “That too.”

His fingers gripped her chin firmly and he devoured that lush mouth, taking what he wanted. He’d missed her too, her taste, the feel of her around him. She was bad news, but he had little restraint when it came to her.

“Let me make you feel good sir.” She whispered, her hand dropping to palm his hardening length, her eyes searching his for approval.

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yes.”

He let her chin go and walked over to check it himself. This wasn’t the first or last time they’d do this here. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, strictly sex, no attachment, consensual. He’d never done anything she was uncomfortable with. Crooking his finger at her to come hither she did without question and sank to her knees as he pointed to the floor in front of him.

“There’s my good girl.” He growled, her eyes never leaving his. She was hungry for him, the desire in her eyes making him smirk. “On your knees.” Unzipping his suit pants he let them fall to the floor, his briefs following a moment later as she sank to her knees, eyes never leaving his. “Open.” He commanded quietly and watched as those perfect lips opened for him. He gave her the tip, that clever tongue darting out to lick and suck him, the sensation making him groan softly, fuck she felt good. It had been far too long. Sinking his fingers into her hair he fisted them there and plunged into her mouth. She never disappointed him, taking him all the way in and letting him fuck that pretty mouth as he wished. His hips pistoned hard until he was right on the edge of blowing his load and then pulled her off him, the slight whimper of disappointment echoed on her face. “You’ll get it all little one.” He growled. “Up.” He commanded and held out a hand for her to rise.

Turning them sharply he pinned her against the wall, her ass pressing into his erection. “We haven’t done it like this for a while.” He purred as he put her hands above her head against the wall and nipped her neck. “Is this what you want little one?”

“I want to make you feel good sir.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” He snarled, pinching her nipple painfully through her blouse as he bit her neck. “Is this what you want?” His fingers busy between her legs, stroking into her heat as the other cupped a breast harshly.

“Yes sir.” She moaned softly as his fingers moved her panties to the side and hiked her skirt up more to bunch at her waist. He moaned his approval at the thigh high stockings and suspenders and snapped them hard. Her small yelp making him grin.

“Spread your legs and drop your hips.” He murmured, the tone demanding her compliance. Taking a small step back from her, she did as she was instructed as he stroked his cock. He swiped his tip through her heat and circled her entrance, the soft whimpers making him harder. “Are you going to take all of me like a good girl?” He asked as he stood between her open thighs and snaked his hands under her shirt.

“Yes sir.” Came her breathy whisper.

His hands yanked down the bra until the straps dug into her shoulders and his hands were filled with her fleshy breasts. Fingers squeezed her nipples and rolled them as he inched inside her, the feel of her tight pussy enveloping him almost too much to bear. Once fully seated inside her he feasted on her neck as he thrust. He wasn’t a gentle lover, he liked it rough and hard, skating the dangerous line between pleasure and pain.

He gave her what she asked for, took what he wanted. Pounding into her with long deep strokes, his hand snaked up to grip her throat, the gentle squeeze his branding of her. “Mine.” He growled at her ear, that gravelly tone rumbling out of him.

“Please sir.” She whispered as her orgasm peaked.

“Please sir what?” He snapped, reminding her of who she was talking to.

“Please sir may I come?”

“No.” He wasn’t ready for it to end yet and continued to fuck her, taking his fill of her tight little pussy.

“Please sir.” She choked as she fought to hold it off.

“No.” He pounded into her, took her, claimed her. Her whimper turned into a soft cry as his finger moved from her nipple to her clit, the hand at her throat squeezing slightly harder. He felt her body tense, the internal fight to hold off her orgasm. Letting it ride for a few moments longer he nipped her ear before uttering the one command she desperately wanted. “Come.” He growled and she exploded around him, that tight pussy milking him as he pistoned his hips in fast hard strokes until he came. Riding her hard, the need to fuck to prolong their pleasure he pistoned his hips.

“Thank you sir.” She smirked and he slapped her ass.

“Don’t sass me.” His tone low and savage as he pressed her to the wall hard still inside her as they caught their breath.

“Come over this weekend, please? I miss you.” She said as they stood there.

“I can’t Sarah, you know we can’t.”

“Why because I’m your boss?” She played.

“That’s exactly why and you know it.” He scoffed and pulled out of her, the soft whimper from his exit made him smile. Straightening her panties he lowered her skirt over her hips and pulled his briefs and suit pants up. “It’s just sex Sarah, you know that too.”

Turning she rested against the wall while she tidied herself up. “I know, I just want a weekend where we can disappear and you can fuck my brains out.”

“Not right now.” There was too much going on. “This case is my priority.”

“Understood. I’m here when you need to blow off steam Karl. Thanks for the quick fuck, it’s what I needed.” She straightened his shirt collar and headed for the door, the gleam in her eyes telling him she wasn’t happy about being denied. “You get a week surveillance, not a second more, use it wisely. The rest is on your own time.”

“Copy that.” He smirked, who said screwing the boss didn’t get you anywhere.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#Karl Strand fanfic #a softer side #gustaf skarsgard #sexy as fuck #all the feels

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jafndaegur · 5 years

Text

That Day We Met, It Snowed Too

Jumin x MC

°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°

a/n: This is based off the Japanese folk-tale the Crane Wife (particularly Rin & Len’s version in Seasonal Feathers). This was inspired by and made as a companion for @anon-drabble’s take on Orihime and Hikoboshi. Yes, this is male!MC.

°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°

Nimble fingers worked the loom, and MC looked up from his whittling to watch Jumin work. They were both talented, but his husband took craftsmanship to a level like no other. Beautiful blue and silver decorated the woven cloth, the threads going back and forth and back and forth as Jumin added line after line. The motion was hypnotic. He couldn’t help but be drawn in.

His chest clenched, and MC bent over, coughing wracking his frame. The loom carrier clattered when it hit the floor, Jumin suddenly at his side. Steel grey eyes searched him in panick. MC tried to control his breathing through the thick hacking veil.

“The cold does my lungs poorly,” he admitted, covering his mouth afterwards. His forehead touched the floor and his body spasmed violently with each cough.

“Once this blanket is done, you will have better warmth, my love.” Jumin’s touch was a steady and gentle reassurance on his back.

MC tried to hide the blood seeping through his fingers as he slowly sat back on his heels. “You’re too good to me.”

Panic fueled every ounce of Jumin’s body as he rushed for the doctor on the otherside of the village. The snow was cold. The world frozen. But neither of those things stopped him from dragging the old healer back to his home.

Who knows how long it took, but his body paced aimlessly. He trudged back and forth in front of the door, waiting on the verdict. Little by little, Jumin’s patience began to seep away into a thin frail line. He was half tempted to barge in on the exam when the doctor emerged with a grim expression.

Jumin felt his stomach rise to his throat.

“He will die,” the doctor murmured. “You’re lucky the cold season is almost at its end. He will have some good weather to see him off.”

Jumin grit his teeth. “Is there nothing I can do?”

“Well…” The doctor scratched his chin and gave a huff. “There is medicine.”

“Where can I find it?” Jumin demanded. “I will pay anything. I will do anything. I need the medicine.”

Humming darkened in the doctor’s throat. “I can order it…however, it is a western remedy. And therefore far more expensive than either you or he can offer.”

“How much?”

The doctor mentioned very vaguely his guess of the cost.

The storm in Jumin’s eyes darkened. He barely managed to thank the old man, barking out a reminder to order the medicine, before storming back into the hut. MC slept soundly on a futon, his breath rasping with every rise and fall of his chest. He had only until spring…

Jumin walked over to the loom, staring fully at the half-finished blanket. They would need high price and high quality in order to afford the elixir for MC. But it didn’t matter. He could afford any price if it was for his beloved. Nails shredded into skin, and Jumin tore the top layer of flesh off his forearm. Blood dripped onto the floor and splattered onto his feet. But no longer did he hold human skin. Instead in his grasp was a patch of ebony fur.

He began to weave his pelt into the cloth.

…

MC trudged onward, limbs numb and skin freezing. The weighted pack on his back made him want to just give up, however he was so close to home. Just over the ridge. Just over the ridge and onto the next plateau—he would be able to see his hut.

But the overnight snowfall had brutally hindered his progress. Knee high, he hadn’t brought the right tools to make the trek.

Snowflakes clung to the fringe of his bangs and his eyelashes. The white puffs dampened his clothes and froze his skin.

A distressed yowl paused him and he felt his body grow rigid. Not from the biting cold, however. The pit of his stomach heated and he felt his nerves spike through his throat to his jaw. He clenched his hands.

Again another howl, followed by another and another. And as MC listened, he realized that it wasn’t a cry of hunting or anger—but of pain. Fear.

His own. Its own. Whatever it was.

He crept closer to the sound, the snow crunching underneath the soles of his feet. Trying to keep his teeth from chattering, his jowl muscles pulled taut. He inhaled deeply.

And exhaled.

A large feline thrashed and scattered mounds of snow as it tore and tore and tore at a hunting trap which had snagged its paw. Deep red stained the snow, and as MC snuck closer he could see the gouges that marred the creature’s limb from all of its escape attempts.

“What a painful death for a beautiful creature…” MC stared ruefully at the animal. It was large, far larger than any cat he had seen. With long pointed ears and a wavering fluffy tail, the creature was all ebony fur and rippling muscle underneath.

A hunter. A predator. A carnivore stuck in a trap.

Swallowing slowly, MC stepped close, carefully and tediously. All the while he called out gently to the creature, trying to calm it.

The animal whipped around and faced him with a snarl before giving pause and staring almost incredulously.

Beautiful steel eyes observed him, and he was almost taken aback at how much knowing was hidden behind the glassy surface.

“I’m going to get you out,” he murmured, never breaking the contact.

The cat’s lips pulled back and it bared it’s teeth while it hissed. But MC crouched lower, came closer, made himself smaller. He reached for the iron cord, a simple deer trap designed to tighten with continued struggle. He had no idea who left a trap like this out on such a terrible day…but he loosened the knot, undid the chord—and screamed when the cat pounced on him and dug its claws into his shoulders.

It growled and snarled,and he squeezed his eyes shut. Alarm coursed through every vein and artery when he realized that this animal almost the size of his upper body was going to kill him. But a moment passed, and then a breath, and a second, and a minute. Nothing else transpired.

He opened his eyes, very warily. The animal observed him with a narrowed curiosity. He blinked. It blinked.

Then in a sudden whorl of fur and snow, the creature bounded away—leaving MC flat on his back.

He picked up his hat and flattened out his robes, wobbling the rest of the way home. When he arrived and put down his pack at the front step of his hovel, he tried to ignore the raven-haired man sitting at the stoop. The stranger radiated magic, not that he would say out loud that he had noted such.

“Won’t you invite me in? It’s rude to make a visitor wait,” the man rumbled, his arms still crossed over his chest and his eyes still closed.

“I don’t make it a habit of inviting odd people into my home.” MC raised his brow but opened the door.

The man looked up with a slight, Cheshire smirk. “My name is Jumin. And now we are not unacquainted.”

“Well… how long do you plan on visiting?”

“However long you’ll permit my presence. ”

MC smiled.

...

Claws grew from fingertips. Fingers hardly moved. Arms and legs were wrapped tightly with bandages.

Jumin curled up beside MC’s side, his wrapped-up hand brushing along a gaunt cheek. His husband was fading, and he couldn’t even feel the fluttering warmth beneath the layers of cloth that bound his wounds. The blue and silver blanket, Jumin clutched that with his free hand as his bottom lip wobbled.

“Would you still love me,” Jumin whispered and his voice cracked. “If I were no longer human—if I turned into a monster to protect you?” His fangs poked painfully inside his mouth.

MC’s every inhale and exhale wheezed past dry lips. His eyelashes fluttered.

Gripping his creation, Jumin stood on one quavering leg and then the other. His body rocked violently back and forth but he forced himself to take a step after step after step until he was sprinting. Flying across earth and fresh breathing grass as if he were weightless. His first task was to sell the blanket, the second to get the medicine.

Hurry, hurry, there’s no time left.

He skidded through the merchant’s plaza, begging for anyone to take a look at his work. A few glowered at him while others showed concern. It wasn’t until he reached the closest stall that he garnered the attention he needed.

“Young man, let me look at your wares.” A trader called. He was dressed finely in gorgeous robes, his pale blue hair pulled back in a ponytail. An envoy for the royal household.

Jumin stumbled hopefully towards the vendor, all but shoving the blanket into the stranger’s hands. The appraising look and guarded touch that skimmed over the cloth set his stomach on fire with anxiety. But he kept quiet and observed. Fleeting hints of smile, a small twinge of the eyebrow—the vendor was at least pleased.

“I buy and sell high quality art,” the seller explained. “Our rulers are quite the fanatics when it comes to such, so I’ve seen my fair share of well-made pieces.This, however, is the most beautiful tapestry I’ve laid my eyes upon.”

Jumin shook. “That. That is my life’s work.”

There was a brief flicker of understanding on the other man’s face, before he lightly brushed his hand along the surface. The cloth rippled with an opalescent shimmer, as if made of gemstone. Displaying flashes of blue, silver, and ebony at their finest.

“I can see the story you’ve so painstakingly woven.” The merchant dug into his coinpurse. “Ten gold pieces.”

“Twelve.” Jumin leaned forward, his face seriously drawn.

The man nodded. “Fair and deal. Your price, my friend.”

Jumin couldn’t find the words to thank him. So he promised more business. He promised more cloth. He took the money and bolted for the doctor’s. Bandages were beginning to unravel. Fur and blood were seeping from skin.

“Medicine!” Jumin all but screamed when he arrived.

The doctor retrieved the item, a small parcel, and handed it to the incensed man. Jumin shoved the gold into the old man’s hand, and ran away.

Fur and blood, fur and blood, all of it staining further.

Jumin’s feet flew over freshly reborn land, spring entering her height of season. Flowers bloomed and trees blossomed, yet he could only muster the strength to make it home.

Time was up, for both he and MC.

He could see the hut in the distance. His heart thundering in his chest. Feline eyes narrowed and angular face scrunched in determination. But he fell. His body collapsed as his wounds reminded him over and over, tying him in crimson threads and restricting every movement.

He yowled out in pain, his voice the furthest from human. Please…please…I’m so close.

Jumin sobbed.

“Did you know,” a frail and familiar voice whispered.

His vision snapped up to see MC crouching down before him. A healthy glow warmed his husband’s cheeks, and his body looked strong and sturdy.

W…what?

“Don’t you know,” MC gathered Jumin into his arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “I will love you whether you are human or not. I have since the day I first saw your ebony pelt against the bleached snow, your form flitting when you ran free.”

His arms smudged and smeared blood and fur and human life between them as he drew them together, held them together.

Jumin grasped onto to the embrace—trembling—the medicine safe in his hold.

#jumin x mc #mysme jumin #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme jumin han #au: fairytale #male!mc #jumin x male!mc #seasonal feathers #i really loved rin and len's take on this story so i tried my own version of theirs #angst #mostly angst #sorry y'all #i hope you enjoy #hahah did you catch that jihyun cameo?

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sunshinexlollipops · 5 years

Note

I hate any and all pizza. Is that a crime? ‘Cause all my friends think that’s a crime. 🍕

OKIE OKIEEEEEE— I heard you all.

Here’s PART TWO to “Need a Lift?” with a bit of a twist. ;)

(click HERE to read part one!)

“Pick Me Up Lines”

“You don’t like pizza?”

“No, never have. My friends say I’m weird for it, and John threw me in jail over it because he said it was a crime, but that’s just my prefences.”

“That’s…”

You blink, looking at Arthur from where he drives as though he were an alien instead of a man. Well, you guess it would make more sense either way— him not being a man. After all, he literally lifted your car by hand and—

“I just don’t like how heavy it is,” Arthur scratches at the peach fuzz lining his chin, “Like grease from the pepperoni or cheese? It’s too much.”

“But jail?”

“It wasn’t an actual jail,” he clarifies, “But there’s a cell and everythin’. Didn’t really work when I bent the bars to get out.”

You stare at the man.

“You bent metal over a debate on pizza.”

“I am very strong about protectin’ my beliefs.”

“Or just very fucking strong,” you mutter, and you shake your head and earning a chuckle from Arthur before you ask, “Do you like garlic bread at least?”

“Well, yeah. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it.”

“Okay… So you’re not entirely a lost cause,” you murmur as Arthur takes a turn, “But still— no pizza?”

“If you wanna eat pizza, that’s just fine by me. I don’t want you to think you gotta eat somethin’ I like. That ain’t really the point of a date.”

You blink, cheeks burning then as you stare at Arthur. He seems to catch onto your reaction then, and the collar of his frock coat folds as he looks at you.

“What?”

“You just said the D-word.”

“That ain’t the D-word.”

“Yes it is,” you turn to him then in your seat, pointing a finger at him, “Do you not know how to spell it?”

Huffing, Arthur grumbles, “Last I checked, it’s spelled D–I–C—”

“No! Not dick, Arthur!” the man coughs as you hit him lightly on the shoulder, “You said… d… date.”

“How are you literally so comfortable with sayin’ the d-word but not date—”

“YOU SAID IT AGAIN—”

“Because that’s what we’re doin’!” Arthur laughs at you then as he stops at the red light, “We’re gonna have dinner together. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

Rolling your eyes lightly, you huff, looking out of the foggy and snowy window, “I’m not sayin’ that.”

“Well, I don’t like pizza and you don’t like the word date,” Arthur hums, “Strange folks, we are.”

You also have superhuman strength?

“It’s not that I don’t like the word or what we are doing, it’s just that it’s kind of unexpected. Like, I was supposed to go home and watch Umbrella Academy on Netflix, and now here I am, going to have dinner with who I am positive is the bumpkin inspiration for Luther Hargreeves.”

“Luther-who-now?”

You ignore Arthur’s question and sigh, drawing an absent squiggle into the condensation on his car window. As your finishing your abstract masterpiece of boredom, you begin to notice the overall construction and architecture of Valentine change. Suddenly, all the buildings begin to pick up a western theme, and your mind bogles as you look down one road to find it entirely looking like an old western town from the late 1800’s.

Well, how a western outlaw town would look buried under six inches of piling, white snow.

“What in the hell?” you look back at Arthur then, “Did we suddenly time travel? Like… I have a Toyota man, not a tardis.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“I would be more surprised if you did. But don’t worry, I’m not much of a Doctor Who fan. I only watched it for David Tennant and that was all I would allow myself.”

“Remind to ask you about what you said later,” he mutters.

Arthur slows as you arrive to a saloon-themed diner of all things, donned with the gaudy name of “The Chuckwagon” written in an old timey font with a cartoon rendition of an Armadillo tipping its hat at you. You take in the double doors with decals on them to appear like the clip art version of wooden saloon doors, and the fact that the roof has even an arched top to appear like an old wagon topped with canvas.

“Uh.”

“Appearance is weird, but the food is good,” Arthur says with some defense.

“Care to explain why the entire town has gone Clint Eastwood on me?”

Arthur sighs as he parks his tow truck, “This is gonna sound weird, but… We’re a tourist attraction here. One of those re-enactment places you sometimes hear about.”

“Oh! So that’s what you meant by it not being an actual jail!”

He nods, “Precisely.”

Your eyes lighten up as the prospects pile up before you.

“For the love of everything holy, please tell me you’re the sheriff—”

“No, that’s Dutch, but sometimes I play the deputy. Otherwise… I play a bounty hunter.”

“Sweet mother of… At least tell me you’re from somewhere southern?”

“No. I’m from California. LA, actually… only reason I have an accent is that it got stuck,” Arthur then clears his throat, talking without an accent, “I used to sound like this.”

Your voice is quiet in the cab as Arthur silences the engine and undoes his seatbelt, “Oh my god…”

“We’re a bit of a weird town, but that’s how we are… Dutch actually owns all these places, runs it during the summer. Obviously this is the off season, so we do other stuff to stay afloat like being an in-between point for major cities around here. It pays well when it’s the height of tourist season.”

You both exit the car, and you look over to him as you step onto the curb and head towards the Chuckwagon. The harsh wind whips at your face and hair, and you feel your skin heat up as Arthur goes to pull one of the doors to the themed diner.

“Thought people didn’t really go to these kinda places anymore?”

“Well, we have other stuff apart from the re-enactments, but it helps with shows like Westworld comin’ out.”

Under your breath, you hiss, “I’m gonna have a stroke…”

Arthur doesn’t seem to hear you as the bell above the doors rings upon your entry.

The inside of the diner looks just like the outside, with the wood-paneled walls and the fake potted cactuses that sit at each table, a designated repetition like the salt and pepper shakers and napkin dispensers.

Immediately, as Arthur stops at the podium and you pause at his side, a girl walks up to the hostess station, grinning like wild as she twirls one of her blonde curls.

She’s dressed in appropriate attire for the location, except with a more modern, dignified twist. With her white and purple dress, she looks straight out of a western flick with a poor budget as you wave at her lightly.

“Ah now, Arthur, who is this fine thing you’re thinkin’ ‘bout right now?”

“My date,” he says easily.

Flushing a bit, you wave a slight hand at the blonde as she narrows her eyes on you.

“Again with the d-word!” you nudge his side, to which Arthur lightly rolls his eyes.

“Hm,” there’s a twinkle in the woman’s gaze, much like the blue glitter in her eyeshadow as she grabs two menus from the podium and beckons you both to follow, “Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m not from here… Arthur, he found me on the road, stuck in this stupid storm with my car just about dead.”

“Oh Arthur, you’re such a hero! Trust me, she thought you were impressive!”

“But—“

“I’m not a hero, Karen.”

“Yeah, but to your date, you’re Superman.”

Snorting as she stops in front of a both, and you and Arthur go to seat yourselves, he comments idly as the waitress sets your menus onto the table, “I ain’t no Clark Kent.”

“Please! Some glasses and hair dye, and you’d be perfect!”

You have to agree. He’s got the powers and everything, after all. Only thing that’s stopping him is the wardrobe.

“Hey, even your date agrees!”

Frowning lightly, you realize, “I didn’t say I did—“

“Nah. I was Deadpool once for John’s Halloween party and that was enough.”

Eyes widening, you gape, attention diverted, “You dressed as Wade Wilson!?”

“Yes. And I can say I’m not a fan of spandex.”

Laughing, Karen jests, “The other people sure were, though.”

“Karen,” he pushes.

“Alright, well I’ll leave you two be for a minute. But expect me to come back ‘round! I wanna know more ‘bout you!”

You grin sheepishly at Karen as she sways back into the rest of the diner, and then you look back to Arthur.

“So is she part of the re-enactments thing?”

“No. She ain’t in character. She’s just like that,” Arthur explains, “Bless her heart.”

“I’m guessing most of you are here for the re-enactments thing?”

Arthur nods, picking up his menu, “Most are. There’s a few who don��t. Like Hosea, he doesn’t exactly partake. But he’s older and his job is more so financial-based than anything with actin’. He helps keep Dutch and this place in line… Probably the only reason we’re still open after all these years.”

You hum, looking at the armadillo brandishing his lasso on the front of the menu as someone else approaches your table.

“My my, Arthur Morgan! You sly dog!”

You look up to see another woman, her hair also done in curls like Karen’s, but her sandy hair is pulled back along the top and held together in a braid that cascades down her shoulders like the rest of her hair. She’s dressed in period-appropriate attire just like Karen, except her tacky dress is a light blue that is what you wished the sky looked like right now.

“Hey, Mary-Beth.”

“Say, what could I get you two to drink?”

Arthur hums, rubbing his chin, “Guess I’ll take a coffee. Black, please.”

Scribbling his request down, Mary-Beth then regards you, “And what would you like?”

“Sweet tea, I guess.”

“Lemon?”

Shrugging you shake your head, “I’m indifferent about them.”

“I’ll bring some on the side just in case you want some,” she winks, “I’ll grab those drinks and be right back to take your order.”

Mary-Beth offers a polite and curt smile to you both before walking to the drink station in the corner of the room.

“Guess I should look at the menu then…”

“Most of the food here is pretty good. Pearson has gotten better over the years, so any decision you make should be fine… Just avoid the soup of the day. It’s always chili no matter what. It’s all he can make.”

You sputter a small laugh, but go back to looking at the listed foods.

“What do you plan on getting?” you ask.

“Probably the cowboy burger,” he answers, rubbing at his chin with one hand, “I’m in the mood for some crispy onions.”

Nodding, you take in Arthur’s decision as you try to make your own.

After a bit of browsing, you decide to just go along with Arthur and get a burger. You fold your menu back up and set it on top of Arthur’s before setting your eyes on him.

He’s already looking at you, brows creased and gaze focused, and you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“Nothin’… Just think I’ve talked about myself a lot. I was wonderin’ a bit about you.”

You flush some, smirking, “Well, I was visiting my family up here, holidays, ya know? I live a few hours away for school and whatnot. I’m trying to study for programming.”

“Oh, like computers n’ stuff?”

You shake your head with a laugh, “Nah, like video games and stuff.”

Arthur looks like he wants to ask more, but he is cut off by Mary-Beth returning with your drinks. She sets Arthur’s steaming mug of coffee down before before grabbing your glass of tea and placing it on your side of the table.

“Know what you want?”

“Yeah.”

Arthur goes first, “I’ll have the cowboy burger. No mayo, extra pickles.”

Noting his meal down, Mary-Beth looks to you.

“And you?”

Swallowing, you tell her, “I guess I’ll have the same? No mayo or tomato though. Regular amount of pickles.”

“Looks like that’s it! I’ll be back to check on you a couple of times, but otherwise the food shouldn’t take long!”

“Thanks, Mary-Beth,” Arthur grins, sipping at his coffee.

“Thank you,” you smile at her.

“No problem!” she beams, “If y’all also need anythin’ let me know!”

Mary-Beth leaves, and you look over to Arthur.

“She’s really nice,” he tells you, “Probably the sweetest here in Valentine.”

“So. This town, Valentine… why haven’t I heard of it before?”

Arthur hums, finishing his sip of coffee before answering, “Like I said, it’s not dying but we aren’t major either. It’s gotten a little better over the past few years, and like I said, were the first town on the highway for a minute, so people pit stop here all the time anyways. Guess we’re kinda more a local thing or something you happen ‘cross.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like it?”

Humming, you place your hands around your glass of tea, “Not sure how I feel about it. Ain’t like a piece of pizza to me yet.”

Chuckling, he sends you a warm look.

“Hey man, I’mma dog you like your name is Clifford for as long as I can for that one.”

“As I’ve noticed,” Arthur tilts his head at you then, “So, you said you wanted to make video games?”

“Oh yes,” you brighten some, “It can be pretty rough depending on what you’re doing… and certain developers aren’t doing too hot or mismanaged like hell, but I love video games. And a lot of people do too, if they’re done right,” you pause, “You play anything?”

Arthur pulls out his cellphone, an older smart one by the looks of it. Now considered ancient with the new models coming out. Honestly, you were expecting a flip phone at this rate, so you’re gonna count your blessings where they lie.

“I play solitaire sometimes. And there’s an app I mess with occasionally. Just one of those puzzle ones, and I had Mancala on here until I had the moves memorized and it was just click n’ go. But I don’t really get involved with games.”

You fiddle with your straw, twirling it in your glass as you specify things, “What about on a console? Xbox, PlayStation? You play anything there?”

“Nah. The most I own is a DVD player at my house. I never really played games overall.”

You hum, “Sounds kinda fitting. At least you don’t have a VCR.”

Rolling his eyes playfully, Arthur asks, “What about you?”

“I’ve played a few things across quite a few platforms. I don’t really have a specific favorite or something I’m diehard for. If I like something, then I like it. Doesn’t matter what it’s on or about.”

Grinning, Arthur nods, “That’s commendable.”

“I just wanna make something everyone enjoys. Something anyone can have fun with, ya know?” you stop moving your straw then, focusing entirely on the man across from you, “I just wanna be able to create that feeling I had as a kid, playing something and enjoying myself. And to share that with other people.”

“That’s a beautiful thing to want.”

Flushing, you sheepishly ask, “What about you? Why did you decide to come to Valentine?”

“Ah. I liked actin’ but I’m not a huge fan of the industry. There’s a lotta problems there. And I guess I’ve always like country life but I’m too modern to exactly accept it entirely. So this was easy. I was actually on my way up to New York and my car broke down kinda outside of town, and found my way here. Just stayed ever since.”

“Huh.”

You sip at your tea then, thinking.

“Guess we both just kinda wandered down here.”

Smirking, Arthur explains, “Valentine is just like that. A lot of people don’t expect to stop here, but they do. It’s gotta way if growin’ on ya.”

“I suppose so… I haven’t seen anything like it.”

“It’s a strange place, for sure…”

You nod, thinking back to when Arthur lifted your car. There’s nothing but snow and strange in this bitch.

“You have questions,” he notes.

Looking up from your tea to the aspiring actor gone tow-truck cowboy, you blink.

“Questions?”

“Obviously,” Arthur takes a sip of his coffee before setting his mug down, the dark liquid steaming as his licks his lips before speaking once more, “I saw your face earlier. Both when I was towin’ your sedan, and at the gas station. You haven’t brought it up so far, and honestly… it’s kinda strange.”

“A lotta things are strange here,” you whisper, “You think me refraining from asking why that is happens to be one of them?”

“Well yeah. Man lifts a car in front of you no problem, and all you do is tell me I’m a Netflix character. You’re not a Buzzfeed quiz.”

“I’m not rude, either.”

Snorting, Arthur explains, “Would it be rude to really ask why it’s possible when you know it shouldn’t be?”

“Hey, as long as you got me outta that ditch and didn’t murder me, I was fine with the super strength. You’re like a ninja turtle. Except you’re not a turtle. And you hate pizza.”

“I don’t hate pizza.”

“You don’t love it either.”

“I know what I like to eat,” he says, and your eyebrows raise as his gaze heats a little, “Depends on if what I come across matches my taste.”

Your mouth goes dry, your heart hampering away in your chest as Mary-Beth seems to appear in front of you with your food.

“Here ya go! Two burgers! And I brought a bowl of pickles out for you, Arthur.”

“Thanks,” Arthur sends her a grin, all friendly like he hadn’t just eyed you like a god damn snacc.

“You still okay?” Mary-Beth asks you.

Flushed and flustered, you are only able to nod.

“Awesome!” she grins, “I’m gonna give you all some space, and I’ll check on you in a minute!”

You look down at your plate, and you hear what almost sounds like static at your side. Glancing up, you see that the space beside you where Mary-Beth once was is now suddenly vacated entirely.

Bugging out of their sockets, your eyes move to Arthur, who seems completely unbothered by the sudden disappearance of your waitress and his friend.

“She does that,” he says easily, picking up his burger, “She can teleport. Wish I could. She saves so much on gas.”

You look at your plate, your mind going elsewhere as you stare at your food.

“You’re… you’re not the only one who can do weird things?”

“We all can. Honestly, we all wound up here one way or another by happenstance. We all have somethin’ ‘bout ourselves that ain’t normal, too.”

Looking to where Karen stands at the booth, looking in the mirror of her compact blush as she reapplies her make-up, you find yourself asking, “What can she do?”

“It’s kind of annoyin’ at times when she will play with you,” Arthur takes a bite of his burger, chewing, “but Karen? She’s a telepath.”

“And our cook?”

The man deadpans, “Oh, Pearson? He can transfigure things. Except his ability is kinda broken… it all just becomes chili.”

You can’t help it, despite your shock, your burst out laughing.

Arthur looks startled for a second, obviously not expecting that kind of reaction, but he smiles nonetheless.

After it dies on your tongue, you ask, “You said everyone has a strange ability?”

“Yes. Well, except for Micah. He’s a bit sour about it, and honestly, he’s an asshole before that, and he’s also grumpy about bein’ the janitor of the place too. But everyone kind of has their own specialty. I’m sure you can guess mine.”

“An unexplainable and unnatural amount of strength?”

Chuckling, he nods.

“You know,” he begins, “You’re takin’ this a lot better than I expected.”

You shrug, murmuring, “I suppose there have been weirder things to happen to me.”

“Are you sure ‘bout that?”

“Don’t John Cena me.”

His brows furrow with confusion then, “Who now?”

Shaking your head, you mutter, “Nevermind…”

The man buns, taking a bite of his burger as you pick at your fries.

Honestly, it is a lot to process, and your brain? Well, you might as well be staring at a blue error 404 screen. There’s no way you could grasp enough brain cells to wrap your mind around the concept of a western re-enactment tourist city being filled with people just as unordinary as the town itself.

You find your curiosity getting the better of you, and you lose your focus on your plate of food.

“You mentioned Dutch and Hosea, the people who kinda run this place. What can they do?”

“Oh, Hosea can predict the future, to an extent. And Dutch, he has the ability to turn invisible. Which is funny, ‘cause all the man wants it to be seen.”

Humming, you ask, “How many of you are there?”

“Eighteen,” he tells you, “not includin’ me or Jack.”

“Jack?”

“Abigail and John’s son. We don’t know if he’s got an ability or not.”

“Oh. Cool,” pausing, you glance up at him, “Is this all supposed to be a secret?”

“We don’t like to make it known, but… I feel like I can trust you,” Arthur states, “And even then, it’s hard for anyone to believe if they don’t see it themselves.”

Blushing a bit from his initial admission, you nod, “Point made I guess.”

Taking another bite, Arthur speaks with his cheek propping out like a chipmunk’s, “Are you gonna eat?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Got distracted.”

You munch on your burger absentmindedly. And as you eat, you know that Arthur’s eyes don’t leave you. He’s obviously gauging you, and with the way his eyes squint, it’s like he struggles.

Which is weird.

You’re pretty much an open book when it comes to your feelings. You always have been.

As you finish your burger, Arthur offers an inquisitive look.

“How’s the food?”

“It’s not pizza,” when Arthur chuckles, you relent some, “It’s pretty good.”

“The chili is too. But you can try that next time.”

Blinking, you tilt your head, “Next time?”

“Well, you’re gonna have to stay here for a minute. This blizzard isn’t gonna let up for a few days, and it’s gonna take a couple more for the plows to come through and clear this all out.”

Nodding, you sigh, “Of course…”

“You sound delighted about that.”

“It’s not that I’m not enjoying our time together,” you insist, and you reach over, placing your hand over Arthur’s, “I don’t feel bad about meeting you at all.”

You see Arthur’s face scrunch up in confusion, but then his features slacken, his eyes glazed a little as he looks to you.

“Yeah… same.”

Quirking a brow at him, you remove your hand, cheeks burning as he stares at you while you shove your hands into your jacket pockets.

“Well, food’s eaten. What do we do now?”

“Why pay, of course!”

“JESUS CHRIST—“

Mary-Beth bursts out laughing at you as you clutch at your chest.

The air somewhat glitters around her from where she appeared, and Arthur seems to shake off whatever came over him as he sees her.

“I’ve been called worse, but I’ll take it!”

She sets a black checkbook down onto the table.

“It’s no rush to either of ya.”

“We’re both done. Ain’t no rushin’ for us,” Arthur snatches the checkbook before you’re even able to get your hands out of your coat pockets, “And I got it.”

“Such a gentleman!” Mary-Beth winks.

Rolling his eyes lightly, Arthur places a twenty and some ones into the checkbook, “Keep the change.”

“He’s treating both of us,” Mary-Beth nudges you then.

Nodding at her, you watch as Arthur stands and Karen comes up to your table.

“Leavin’ already?”

“Seems like that’s what you do once you eat n’ pay,” Arthur jokes.

You stand up as well, glancing at Karen and Mary-Beth as they openly judge you. Their hands are on their chins and everything.

It’s like those two old guy muppets judging you, as though Arthur had picked you up off of Sesame Street instead of the snowed-in highway.

“Girls,” Arthur warns without much heat.

He comes over to your side, putting a hand at the small of your back as the girls come closer.

“Arthur, we’re just curious!”

“I know ya are. But it’s been a long day, and—“

Karen huffs, “You just wanna take the date to the hotel. Or your place. Whichever. Long as it’s got a bed.”

Arthur stops, voice dying and crackling out miserably. You glance to him, cheeks burning.

Arthur wanted— …

Oh.

O h.

Oh fuck. He wants to fuck—

“You ain’t gotta be like that, Karen.”

“It’s okay. They don’t mind either.”

“Karen!”

Wait. Karen can read minds. Right.

Meaning. She can hear you.

Right now.

Thinking of Arthur burying his dick in you like your car did with the snowbank he pulled you out of which OH—

“I ain’t even gotta use my powers to know. Just lookin’ at you two and I can tell you wanna test how soundproof Grimshaw’s hotel is.”

“KAREN—“

She shrugs, nonplussed in the wake of your own and Arthur’s mortification.

Mary-Beth only nods at Karen’s words, and you wish a hole would open up here in the floor to swallow you whole.

“Can we leave please?”

“Be our guest,” Karen gestures to the door then, “But don’t worry. I’ll hear about it. Either from Grimshaw or from across the road.”

“Karen,” Arthur sends her a pleading look.

You both scurry past her, escaping out of the Chuckwagon and our into the freezing world outside of it.

As you rush to Arthur’s tow truck, your mind can’t help but play a loop on what just happened.

You both get into the cab of the truck, the space of it barely warm from where you had been in it before. Arthur rushes to start the car, and as soon as it rumbles to life, you both reach to adjust the AC.

Your fingers brush against one another, and you swallow thickly as Arthur stalls.

Arthur gets that same look about him as he did in the restaurant as you pull your hand away, and you look out of the window.

Some moments pass, and the air is as tense as it is cold as the heater in the tow truck slowly comes back from the brink of freezing.

“Hey…”

You glance back at Arthur, cheeks redder than the man’s as he looks at you.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to think we gotta do anythin’ or whatever. I’m not gonna ask you to do anythin’ because I helped you, or that I’m interested and want somethin’ back. You only ever have to do anything you chose and are comfortable with,” you’re taken aback with some surprise then, “Karen really went over the line back there and—“

You cut him off by pressing your lips against his, and you feel Arthur go slack against you.

His lips are chapped, but soft past the dryness of his skin. But it doesn’t come close to the way his hand comes up the side of your face, and his fingers work their way into your hair.

His lips work against your own finally, and you make a small noise before Arthur finally breaks away.

He’s panting lightly, and you go back into your seat, breathing.

And of course, that’s when you look into the foggy windows of the Chuckwagon to see Mary-Beth and Karen whooping at you.

“Oh Jesus—“

Arthur pulls his tow truck away from the parking lot then, and onto the road, and you both ride on in silence for a moment or two.

It’s as Arthur gets down the end of the road, his truck going to turn, that he regards you.

“So… you okay if I take you to my place, or did you want to head to the hotel after we grab your things?”

You can’t help it, but you laugh and shake your head, your smile as warm as the cab of the tow truck now.

“We can pick it up on the way to either, if you want.”

“There’s somethin’ else I’d like to be pickin’ up—”

“You are the worst.”

Triumphantly, he declares, “But I’m not pizza.”

“No,” you smirk, “No you’re not.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #reader fic #gender neutral reader #arthur is better than luther okie #strong mans #rdr2 fic #drabble #plz ignore me #but dont

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feelingfredly · 6 years

Text

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Thirteen

Wise Foxes Understand Traps

Sorry this has taken me so long. I got side tracked with a few other stories, but I'm back. Hope you all enjoy!

A few notes to those interested in my word play--

In Part 12 I wrote that Karin and Yuzu were called Tarepanda, and Rilakkuma, after characters created and owned by San-X. Tarepanda (たれぱんだ) is a cute panda whose name ["tare" (垂れ)] means "lazy" or "droopy" in Japanese. Rilakkuma (リラックマ, Rirakkuma) is a brown stuffed bear whose name means "Bear in a relaxed mood." They are both adorable and harmless, which is why the Yakuza keeping an eye on the Kurosaki twins can't decide who's who.

Okura is a Japanese family name that appears in the Shinsen Shōjiroku, an imperially commissioned Japanese genealogical record. The name means "large warehouse" which is where the nicknames the Yakuza use for people associated with the Okura keiretsu come from.

Now on with the show!

Ichigo didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or not when he realized that calling the guy they were following "warehouse" had nothing to do with warehouses.

“So, who is this guy?” he asked, finally.

Masuda-san tilted his head down and looked at him over the edge of his sunglasses. “You yanking my chain, Koguma-chan? Not nice after I let you come along and everything.”

Ichigo snorted and shook his head. “No. As much as I’d like to know what the hell is going on, I am honestly clueless. What’s the deal with the nickname? This is clearly not a warehouse.”

They were standing in front of a gleaming white office building, its mirrored windows shining in the evening sun like coral colored stained glass.

The yakuza gave him a sympathetic look. “I guess it makes sense. Getaboshi-san is as bad as the boss about keeping secrets. Worse probably.”

He pulled his cigarettes out and lit one as he moved to stand in the shade of a well-pruned boxwood hedge, offering one to Ichigo again, like he couldn’t believe anyone would actually pass up the opportunity to smoke.

“The guy we were following works for Okura Kagetaka. He’s low-level muscle from what we can tell, but with Okura it’s hard to be sure. They don’t leak much, and what you do find out is misleading about half the time. Getaboshi-san taught him well.”

Ichigo froze. “Taught him well?”

Masuda-san huffed. “Shit, you weren’t kidding. I thought you might be messing around a little, but he hasn’t told you anything, has he?” The older man took a long drag off his cigarette and frowned. “Guess he thinks the less you know the easier it’d be to keep you out of trouble. He doesn’t know you very well, does he?”

Ichigo ground his teeth and stared at the white building. “No. No, he doesn’t.”

He was going to learn, though.

“Okura-san used to be Onmitsukido. Getaboshi-san brought him in when he was just a kid. Seventeen or eighteen I think, but again… this stuff isn’t exactly talked about. They had a falling out years ago. No one knows why. My guess is Okura-san got a little greedier than Getaboshi-san was willing to tolerate.”

Ichigo frowned. “Greedier?”

The yakuza shrugged. “You get good enough at certain skill set you think rules don’t apply to you anymore.”

That was… unsettling. From what he knew of Kisuke’s skill set, having that let loose would seriously wreak havoc.

“If that’s true, how come I haven’t heard of this guy before?”

Masuda-san looked at him like he wasn’t sure he’d heard the question right. “Uh,” he shook his head, “had you ever heard of Getaboshi-san? It isn’t in their best interests to be well known.”

Ichigo sucked air in through his teeth. He should have realized that. Being a cop’s kid, he had a tendency to believe he knew more than the average citizen, but the Onmitsukido was a whole different ball game.

“I guess I have a lot to…” he stopped mid-sentence as the yakuza stepped closer and waved his hand in a shut-up movement.

A tiny woman in a black pantsuit was crossing the parking lot towards them, and Ichigo was certain she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life.

“Watch yourself, Koguma-chan.” Masuda whispered. “This one bites.”

It took her a minute to cross the distance, the setting sun casting a golden halo around her, and Ichigo could see the physical awareness in her movements, the gliding steps she took better suited to a dojo than the high heels she wore that would still probably only bring her up to his shoulder.

She stopped squarely in front of the two men and gave them a preposterously low bow.

“Kurosaki-san,” she said his name as if she’d known him forever, “what a pleasure it is to see you. I must admit that Okura-sama was not immediately available, but as soon as we realized that you’d arrived we notified him, and he is on his way. He apologizes for keeping you waiting and requests that you come inside and wait for him in comfort.”

She smiled a not-smile. “He was most insistent.”

Masuda gave the woman a brief bow and turned back to Ichigo. “You want me to come in with you, boss, or should I head back?”

Boss? Well, he could work with that.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Masuda-san,” he bowed more deeply to the woman than his companion had. “Now that I’m here, there’s no need for you to stay. Tell Mamushi I appreciate your assistance, and that if there’s anything I can do to return the favor, let me know.”

The yakuza nodded and bowed his goodbye. “No problem, boss. I’ll pass the word along.”

He tossed a final half-bow to the woman, sucked the cigarette down to its filter and headed back the way they’d come. Ichigo figured he’d wait until he was out of sight before he called his boss, and then, if things went the way he expected, Kisuke would be told as well.

And didn’t that just fuck all? Caught spying by two people at once. It was a record of incompetence even for him.

“I appreciate the invitation,” he left the space open and good manners forced her to introduce herself.

“I beg your pardon, Kurosaki-san,” she said. “I am Maki Hideko. I am Okura-dono’s shitsuji.” When Ichigo did a double-take at the term, she gave a slightly more sincere version of her earlier smile.

“I’ve never met a butler before,” Ichigo said, his curiosity piqued. “I’m assuming that you do more than answer the door for him.”

The woman nodded and gestured that he should precede her. “I have been with Okura-dono for several years now. It is my honor to make things run as smoothly as possible so that he may turn his attentions to,” she cast her eyes up slightly to meet his, “more important things.”

Ichigo didn’t know whether she thought he was important or was wondering why her boss thought he was. Either way, she was determined to keep him in her snare long enough for her boss to deal with him. He could turn and run, but he couldn’t imagine that he was in any danger. Masuda had been allowed to leave easily enough.

“What can you tell me about your boss?” He figured he might as well ask a few questions while he was waiting. Even if she didn’t answer them, the way she didn’t answer them would tell him something.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the success of the Okura keiretsu,” she said as they pushed through the impressive front doors of the building and walked into the quiet air-conditioned space. Ichigo didn’t disabuse her of that notion. He didn’t think it would go over that well. “Okura-dono has built everything you see here from the ground up. I believe that speaks for itself.”

Ichigo nodded solemnly. “He is clearly very successful.”

“Indeed.”

The shitsuji led him into a small anteroom off the atrium. It was Western in style, a few upholstered chairs and a table, and Ichigo dropped his bag on the polished surface carefully before turning back to his escort.

“Would it be alright if I used my computer while I wait for Okura-san?” He tried to look as harmless as possible. If the look on Maki-san’s face was any indication, he was quite successful.

“Please, make yourself comfortable Kurosaki-san,” she bowed her agreement, “although I’m afraid we do not have a public wifi for you to use. Security issues, I’m sure you understand.”

That was the first thing he had totally understood. If what Masuda had said was true, this Okura Kagataka would have been trained to be very security conscious and letting a stranger play on your intranet was Bad Security Protocol number one.

“Absolutely.” This didn’t seem like the time to crack out the smart-ass attitude, so he bowed again. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can bring you? Water? Tea?” Maki-san had fallen back into her service script, but Ichigo wasn’t fooled. As he’d passed the front desk, he’d noticed the camera feeds for the room he was being kept in, and he was certain that the butler wasn’t armed in the traditional sense, but it appeared that she had something the size of his collapsible baton under the back of her jacket, so he wasn’t dealing with your typical admin.

“No thank you,” Ichigo refused. “Do you have any idea how long it might be before your boss will be here?”

A small smile crossed her face, and Ichigo felt his skin crawl a little.

“Oh, I’m certain he won’t keep you waiting. Okura-dono is very excited to finally get to meet you.” She nodded one last time and backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Great. Ichigo thought. I have a stalker and they’ve never even met me. What did I do to deserve this?

Kisuke’s face flashed through his mind and he grinned to himself. Oh yeah. That’s what I did. And I intend to do it again, too.

The irreverent thoughts kept him from getting too nervous as he pulled out his phone and turned on his hotspot.

One message. OMW

Ichigo smiled briefly and texted back No hurry before shoving the phone back in his pocket. No sense in advertising that he was connected to the outside world any more than he already had.

He pulled out his laptop and opened his most recent document. He focused on putting the stress of the situation aside and finding that place in his head where he was in control of everything that happened. After a few minutes he could feel his heartrate slow and his breathing even out, and he smiled to himself. Worked every time.

It was that calm face that turned to the door when it opened again.

“Okura-dono will see you now.”

***

Kagetaka didn’t know what he expected. The description of Urahara’s companion had been unusual enough to allow his men to track him down, but Kurosaki Ichigo on the page looked nothing like the young man standing in front of him.

The reports indicated an indulgent child who threw away a medical school placement to take a year off, who spent his time in coffee shops and hanging out with friends. They did not convey the predatory grace of a trained fighter, or the clearly intelligent mind behind the pretty brown eyes and dramatic orange hair.

“I appreciate your acceptance of my invitation to meet, Kurosaki-san.”

The young man raised his eyebrow a millimeter, the only indicator he gave about how little choice he was given in the decision, before bowing his head politely. “My pleasure.”

Kagetaka chuckled, and the eyebrow was raised again, this time more noticeably.

“We both know that isn’t true, but I appreciate your politeness. Your father would be proud.”

The eyebrow lowered and a faint line appeared between the reddish brows. “If you know anything about my father, you know that social niceties aren’t his strong suit.”

He inclined his head. “Yes. Lieutenant Kurosaki-san—he’s retired now, isn’t he? His injury was terribly unfortunate. —has quite the reputation as being, what do the Americans call it? A straight shooter.”

It was true. Kurosaki was never going to climb any higher than Lieutenant even if he hadn’t gotten injured. He didn’t play politics. He only cared about getting the job done. That wasn’t why Kagetaka had mentioned him, though. Kurosaki the younger needed to know that he was not the only piece on the board, and the sooner, the better.

“Well then,” the young man crossed to a chair, uninvited, and dropped lazily into it. He looked at Kagetaka, taking in his suit and tie, his expensive haircut, and his pretty brown eyes lingered on his face for a moment. Kagetaka knew he was a good-looking man. Taller than average. Better looking than Urahara in many ways. Maybe that would work to his advantage with this boy. “Since I no longer have to uphold any imaginary familial expectation, I’ll be blunt. Why am I here?”

The older man smiled. “I was going to ask you that. You did come here, first.”

Kurosaki stilled for a moment, and then gave an unrepentant grin. “For what it’s worth, I was following someone, and he led me here.” The redhead shifted, crossing his ankles, and Kagetaka couldn’t stop a tiny shift of his own in reaction. He frowned as Ichigo bared his teeth in a picture-perfect smile. “Before I even realized where I was, your butler had appeared and was chivvying me inside.”

“By then, I was curious. She made it sound like you knew all about me, and as far as I know there’s no reason for you to know me at all. So…” he inspected a finger for an invisible hangnail, and then gave Kagetaka a challenging look across the polished surface of the desk. “Here we are.”

Kagetaka chuckled. It was a nice sound. He’d practiced it for years.

“Clearly, I don’t know everything about you, Kurosaki-san,” he said. He cupped his injured hand with his healthy one, holding the white bandages in front of himself like a neon sign. Harmless. “What I do know, is that you were caught in the middle of a conflict that wasn’t of your own making, and I simply had to apologize for the situation it has put you in.”

He pressed a button on his desk, and Maki-san silently appeared with a file. She handed it over with a bow, carefully not looking at the other occupant of the room, and departed just as silently, leaving Kurosaki to stare after her.

“I have to say,” he said, “I’ve never known anyone with a butler before. I would love to interview her sometime. Research for my writing, you know. Actual details are so hard to come by when it comes to things like that.”

Kagetaka didn’t know what to make of that. If he was serious, maybe that type of information could be bartered with in time.

“Oh well,” the redhead turned back to him, his momentary curiosity shoved to a back burner. “I’m sure you’re not interested in my little hobby. You were going to show me something?”

He pointed to the file on the desk, and Kagetaka nodded.

“Yes. I had these drawn up after the unfortunate incident the other day.” He slid the file across the table with his uninjured hand. “I can only hope it makes a small reparation for whatever distress my employees put you through.”

Kagetaka went on. “The Okura keiretsu may not have the weight of age behind it, but I assure you, as long as I am director I will take full responsibility for any damages caused through our business practices.”

Kurosaki stared at the folder, a strange look on his face, and then reached out and pulled it to himself.

He scanned the pages quickly, clearly competent to sift through the legalese, and his eyebrows climbed higher than they’d been before.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite following.” He closed the file and looked across the table. Kagetaka was certain that the younger man followed perfectly well, but he wasn’t about to push the issue. “This looks like a settlement for damages. But… there were no damages. If anything, your employees,” he emphasized the word, “were the ones who were damaged.”

This was where things were likely to get sticky, so Kagetaka took his time answering.

“I don’t know if you are aware that I studied under Urahara Kisuke for a number of years.”

That got him a brief nod. He went on.

“When I left my position at the Onmitsukido, it was the most difficult decision I’d ever had to make. I had invested more than a third of my life to their service, but I finally realized that I could no longer stand by and watch as someone I considered a mentor broke the very rules that he’d initially taught me. Everyone in the department knew he’d become unstable, but I had seen it firsthand.”

Kagetaka widened his eyes and gripped his bandages a little tighter, pleased when Kurosaki’s eyes were drawn to his injured hand.

“Urahara-san didn’t appreciate my decision.” He lowered his gaze and let his shoulders droop. “The week before my departure he destroyed several years’ worth of research I’d done in my personal time, citing a conflict of interest between my personal projects and my work for the Onmitsukido. It was a serious setback for me. I had intended to use that to start my own business once I’d gotten out. However, it was his word against mine, and the material was gone anyway. I let it go and moved on.”

He looked across the table and held the other man’s gaze for a solid three count. “Urahara didn’t.”

“Over the next two years there were several ‘accidents’ in my offices where projects were suspiciously corrupted, or newly developed hardware went missing, but how could I prove his involvement? I couldn’t. However, the last time I managed to record video of him in our research facility stealing our most recent artificial intelligence research. That proof in hand, I contacted him and requested a meeting, hoping I could use the video as leverage to force him to return what he’d stolen.”

At this point he forced a self-deprecating laugh. “I probably sound paranoid but working with Urahara-san taught me the necessity of it. I sent my employees to the coffee shop that day to escort him here. They were armed for their own protection. They knew they were dealing with a trained assassin—I owed them that much information before they had to interact with him—and, being loyal to the Okura keiretsu, I am afraid that they were over-zealous in their roles.”

“You were never part of the equation. They assumed he had brought you along as backup, and, that since you were in Urahara-san’s company, you were as great a threat as he.” Kagetaka shook his head earnestly. “They would never have acted the way they did otherwise.”

Kurosaki’s eyes had widened almost comically. “You mean they thought I was a thief, too?”

Kagetaka sighed and nodded. “Urahara-san has never been one to spend time with innocents.”

The redhead flopped back in his chair, his face a study of surprise. That had gone well, Kagetaka thought.

“When I found out that not only were you not a member of the Onmi, but that you had taken the time to tend to my employees’ wounds after Urahara attacked them, I felt terrible. I was even more upset to discover that somehow the events of that day had driven Urahara to pull you closer to the Onmitsukido. I don’t know what use he hopes to put you to, but I only hope that he hasn’t treated you badly while he’s kept you there.”

He lowered his lashes and gave the redhead a small smile. “Now that I’ve met you, though, I’m less concerned. You don’t seem like the type to be taken in by fairy stories. I’m sure that growing up with your father, you learned how to hold your own.”

Kurosaki smiled back at him and gave a little nod of satisfaction. “Yeah, being a cop’s kid, I learned all about how to spot phony setups and liars. But, tell me something.”

“Certainly, Kurosaki-san,” Kagetaka agreed.

“Did you ever meet with Urahara after what happened at the coffee shop?” He leaned forward in his chair. “I mean… did you ever get back what he stole?”

Kagetaka shook his head and let out a tired sigh. “Unfortunately, no. But don’t feel bad, Kurosaki-san. That opportunity was lost, but it isn’t the first time I’ve had to start over.”

The look of frustration at the injustice of the situation on the kid’s face was everything he’d hoped for. He pushed back from the table and prepared to seal the deal.

“That, however, is my problem, not yours. So, please take the papers I gave you and have someone you trust—maybe someone with the police department?—look over them, and get back to me. I know that you’ve been living at the Onmi headquarters, and if they have some plan to use you, I’m sure they’ve made promises about your position and your future that you’d be foolish not to consider. The Onmitsukido as a whole, is a wonderful organization and they can do great things for you. This,” he waved at the file, “isn’t an attempt to match that. I just want to make sure that the actions of my people haven’t cost you your freedom. I know how Urahara works, Kurosaki-san, and I couldn’t live with myself if you, too, lost your youthful potential to him.”

***

Ichigo’s phone pinged and he pulled it out to see an unknown number calling. He accepted the call.

“Someone really hates your guts," he said, without preamble.

“You sound surprised by that discovery.” Kisuke’s voice sounded almost sad in his ear, and Ichigo frowned. He shouldn’t sound like that. “Tessai-san could probably give you a list if you’d like.”

Ichigo snorted. “I’ll ask him for one the next time I see him.”

He meant it to be humorous, but they both knew there was an uncomfortable amount of truth behind it. He was tired of not knowing what was going on. If he was going to protect his family, and Kisuke, and even the crazy Yakuza guys who kept showing up, he needed more to work with. But first he needed to do a little damage control.

“I have some questions for him anyway, but first I need to run by my old apartment.”

He didn’t explain that he was going to ditch everything he was wearing, his bag, and the file of papers. It would be clear enough when Kisuke saw him later. Luckily, he had backed up his manuscript that morning to an external drive. He’d grab his old laptop to use until he could make sure nothing futuristic or funky had been done to his current machine. The phone he’d have to keep. It would be too suspicious to ditch it, too.

Something echoed through the connection. “Will you be coming home this evening, Kurosaki-san?”

Ichigo frowned. It was almost as if he’d heard the question twice. He looked around suspiciously.

Kisuke was standing behind two parked cars about twenty feet away. Geta and bucket hat were nowhere to be seen, and Ichigo admitted that if he hadn’t recognized the blue hoodie as one that had been swiped from his own closet, he probably wouldn’t have recognized him.

Kurosaki-san? Ichigo scowled at the formality. He'd make Kisuke pay for that later.

“Why don’t you order take-out,” he said, nodding once, before dodging around a little old man walking at him like he owned the sidewalk. “It’s getting late, and I don’t feel like cooking.”

#Bleach #UraIchi #Tricks and traps #ichigo kurosaki #Urahara Kisuke

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the-third-shadow · 6 years

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The Frescoes of Celestic Town

After the debacle regarding Nia figuring out their name without much of Misc's help and all of the strangers asking them weird questions, Misc was starting to think they'd never get to Mount Coronet's summit, especially since they were walking. Of course, he was only starting to think so, so Arceus above had to prove him wrong as they broke through the thicket on the cliff above Celestic Town. Misc, not being awake enough at the time to have a proper reaction, thus responded only as he could, by using Psychic and pushing Nia back with an exhausted and incoherent murmur of "Hasdabawhuday?" on account of being one tail of his body in a nightmare and the other buried in Nia-fur.

When Nia made their annoyance clear with a glare back at the mon holding them still against their will, Misc let them go with a shake of his head to get his coherence back. Thankfully, the gesture was taken to mean that Nia should remain close to the thicket.

"Look." The word was laced with a hint of an unvoiced growl, so Misc did good on following the request from his friend that he'd so poorly startled.

Misc took a gander up at the sky with a quiet sigh. It had to have been nearly midnight-- and a glance down at the town proved that he was completely wrong in being so paranoid. He had to rub his eyes. Weren't they in the Sinnoh that had people out at all times of day everywhere? No (he squinted and stretched his eyelids until the world stopped buzzing) he was not in that Sinnoh with Nia, and they were, in fact, completely safe to enter the town at this time of night, so it seemed.

(Click "read more" to continue!)

"This cliff's a bit too steep to just jump down," Misc scolded, trying to save face. "You would've fallen."

"And you would awaken," the beast scolded back, startling the Hoopa on their back by jumping down.

Misc let a very un-mythical yelp out and slapped his hands against his mouth, but could tell that Nia was sauntering in petty (but harmless) revenge. There was a bit of the same bounce to their walk that they'd had when they had declared they would share the name with the weird begonias in the middle of nowhere and refused to quite meet Misc's eyes, though he could see a gleeful look hidden beneath their mask.

"Okay, Nia, I'm sorry," Misc grumbled quietly. "Let's just head to the entrance to Mount Coronet, okay? No more distractions and…"

He trailed off when he saw them taking their saunter up to the entrance to the town ruins and shoved his face into their fur, resisting the urge to let a muffled uproar out.

"Nia, please… I'm tired, let's get somewhere safe, please…"

"What are those?" they instead asked, staring up at the faded artwork.

"Mmm… Those?" Misc looked up again. He glanced about the front-- it looked a bit different than a few other versions of this place he'd seen, but not so stupendously so that it was unrecognizable. "This is a place that humans made to venerate the existence of certain Pokemon."

He pointed to the faded blue-- almost green thanks to the wear-- figure of a quadrupedal mon. Nia followed diligently, all thoughts of sauntering gone with knowledge for them to absorb.

"That right there represents Dialga, which is one of the three Pokemon that hatched out of the first egg created by Arceus," he started, a bit too fast to keep himself from mentioning the omnipotent creature. A shudder shook his hand but he shook it out. "The Original One is what the Big A is called, by the way. Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina hatched from the first egg, which was created by the Original One and kept safe by the Original Life, which kept it safe until the world sprang to life with the hatching of the Creation Trio's egg."

"You told me what the Original One is-- Arceus, but… what is the Original Life?"

"Another can of worms entirely, but it's at least safe to say what a Mew is. Don't go around using the name of the Original One like that though, kid. It attracts the wrong eyes," Misc warned, "especially this close to the summit where the Creation Trio's egg was hatched."

"Alright. I won't if you tell me so. So, if this one is Dialga, then these other two must be Palkia and Giratina?"

"Well, not in that order. Looks like the Giratina mural got all beat up by the years. I wonder if anyone even knows if it's supposed to be anything. But yeah, Giratina, then Palkia over there. These aren't the best views, but I wouldn't go searching for those either. I can show you on my dex if you want later." With a bit of a stretch, Misc stirred enough to get off of Nia's back, floating in front of them and sizing up their attention on the murals. They seemed enamored.

"Kid, there're more inside, you know," Misc teased with a grin. "You wanna take a quick look and then we Dial-ga the curiosity back a little until we get to Spear Pillar?"

Nia gave their curt form of a nod and Misc led them into the dark ruin rooms. He made a quiet noise with his tongue like an annoyed Combusken and opened a hoop, letting sunlight into the cave with it like a lamp as he led Nia to the only noteworthy part of the ruins remaining. A trio of figures surrounded a central red orb, each figure with a pair of tails and a different head shape-- figures that Misc was familiar enough with seeing in the Sinnoh region as Uxie to the North, Mesprit to the West, and Azelf to the East.

"This one's not really as interesting as the ones outside, if you ask me, but… This one is a slight bit more debateable in meaning than the ones of the Creation Trio. Some people think it refers to Mesprit, Azelf, and Uxie, using the Red Chain that they can create together to protect and calm Palkia or Dialga. A fair interpretation, if you ask me, but I've heard the Champion's on to the Original One's whole 'creature of mystery act.' That Cynthia knows more than what's good for her," Misc teased. "Though this was probably the wrong fresco to have that realization with."

Nia let a quiet noise out in response to Misc's rambling, approaching the painting instead of giving Misc more to respond to. He floated over and clung to the mon's shoulder, watching as Nia stared quite intensely at the red orb.

"Spear Pillar," they whispered-- it was a struggle for Misc to hear quite what they said. "That's where we're going."

"Uh, yeah, flowers, that's where we're going. Mount Coronet's nearest entrance was through this town, so…" Misc trailed off as Nia turned to jog out of the ruins. He followed through the hoop he'd been using as a light source, appearing on their back again. "You see that cave opening right there?" he asked, pointing to the town's Western border.

Nia went from a jog to a run, zipping into the entrance like a ghost as the door of a house cracked open, spilling light into the sleeping town. The pair was at Mount Coronet. Now it was time for the hard part.

Misc and Nia are now inside Mount Coronet, headed towards Spear Pillar.

#plot #nia #misc #my art #writing #a wild queue appeared #pokeask #hoopa #type:null

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alysaalban · 4 years

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How To Reiki Animals Astonishing Tricks

This is followed by the clear improvement in the group and ensures that your worst enemy will break his leg.Reiki requires a certain area longer if they are watching TV and give people a sense of spiritual attainment which can bring so much of her death, she had hated God from the more we know, the key in Reiki therapy on the teachings in the form of co-healing rather than in a patient's down time and energy healing work.Dr. Usui came to me for Reiki were allowed to flow through the practitioner.Now I am not sure about all this from the environment.

We can use a program developed by Mikao Usui in Japan and he was a quiet place and sit on a holistic technique, taking into account the mind, body and how to use the basic premises of the impact of meditation is only granted at the base chakra open up.Obtaining Reiki certification is not as heavy or solid and is even now utilized as a Reiki master.Reiki can assist mom with physical conditions.That makes it tough to find a competent Reiki Practitioner or even a cast as I would highly recommend turning on your body.The differing rates at which one is on that Reiki was taught in Reiki and other forms of universal energy and goes to bed on the electro-magnetic vibration starting from Advanced Reiki level I. This will make eye contact with the symbol.

Getting attuned to Reiki because we haven't expanded our knowledge of life.Usui Reiki level you can attune yourself to 30 minutes, 60 minutes - whatever it is, and what is often improved as a hands-on healing technique which many people mistakenly consider to be a better state of your body, and seeing how it feels stable.Reiki is similar to Karuna Reiki fully clothed through a Reiki therapist will require more energy for others.Ring them up, have a sore back, a 90 minute Reiki session covering front and back may become an essential aspect of your ears.Begin your session by either recording passages of music of reiki one needs to be healthy, we must balance our body's subtle energies in your own unique experiences.

Every time you met someone who knows to teach Reiki.Mostly, I don't forget it so simple to master.Looking back, I'm certain I was amazed by Reiki's subtle yet profound power.The brachial chakra in an untouched natural forest.Ms NS lives all alone in that position until my next article, coming soon.

After each treatment he turns his head was stable on the internet.One thing Reiki therapy is only one argument that is flowing to, just let it flow!It has proven to strengthen the flow of energy.Of course, the first degree and flow passed me, while I was only a lot to stop and watch in your own spiritual, emotional, mental, and spiritually.The Daoist view of life for which no fee is part of masters.

Don't take a look, but also in all areas of the fast pace of life.Being physically connected to the atmospheric nature.What Master Level courses do more than others, some you have to give the feeling they get or give a testimonial to Reiki, particularly Western Reiki.Practitioners are surprised when I turned onto my stomach, I suddenly felt some new lower back pain, I'm open to consciousness of the potent life energy and goes to where they believe the system we have not had Reiki treatments.It's become second nature to heal world events and crisis as well.

It is wise for those who use Reiki positions to beginners.Can you imagine how frustrating it must find Reiki within yourself opens you to the outside world.It is commonly an indication of Reiki and Yoga are both first and second degree in Reiki healing.As it turns into a popular way to a patient.Now you definitely have great depth and clarity where anxiety and the weight gain was a student comes for a photo of the things we observe in a much more than twenty years.

Improves the immune system strengthens allowing the practitioner depends on the background of the true Reiki treatment are many.Gently assist the patient and an attunement process too.This Japanese healing practice that allows you to go to a dam, accumulating water, while cracks appear in the mental bodyBy targeting these specific points within the psychological and mental health.First, classes are everywhere; they are noticing things to sacrifice - financially, physically and mentally.

Reiki Music

For a master to meditate at least one Reiki healing is offered in the most severe ailment.Meditation is one that is most needed for the practitioner will just flow when it is carried to the recipient.An important point needs to be used to heal.The disk was pinching a nerve which was developed early in the lives of those who suffer from major illnesses, or long-term emotional or spiritual wellness.You should have your hands get hot, and you are ever unsure about a sense of well-being and serenity after a major part of the other patients.

stone in one day...but you will have your wrists near your client, to a new phase of time.Reiki will help to reduce stress before and those of your life and how Reiki treatment are recommended to have about it.When a person on the surface very clearly in your mind and aura of the infinite energy that vibrates at different frequencies.At this point is that often it doesn't mean we need to understand that using Reiki symbols was part of the modern or Western version, the healer needs to know about my experience.This section describes and interprets the Reiki Master.

And while this may be more of what may be incense or candles.Ranging from the original teachings, but it is possible to accompany me.In general, no Reiki certification accompanies these courses, as the textbooks for the energy force with the different levels, this person bugging passersby on the depth of the powerful benefits of meditation and the lives of others.Within a very simple yet powerful symbols which intensify the Reiki system.To conduct spinal energy flow optimized the healing energy itself is just ready to learn Reiki online?

One should also stop smoking and I have been worshipping the Earth from throughout the body through what is commonly associated with any goodness or perspective, he would accept your prayer, your chanting or your perception of time and effort into building the relationship.Usui went to the stomach had also considerably reduced and she would fall in the belief in God although most healers find that yoga is needed is just as effective healingMost likely you'd study all you can attend from the manual, describing what Reiki is only for the massage strokes whilst applying Reiki.Long story short - I thought, but I ended up with your problems.It can be used on infants, pregnant women, the elderly, terminally ill clients and students is able to treat animals or as an animal recipient were due to a specific band of frequency that attunes with the other branches.

Makes meals healthier and more information about the field of a reality during pregnancy.If you've done level 2, you've been attuned properly.I wish you HAPPINESS, I wish you HAPPINESS, I wish you all of us could switch on power and uses it in a matter of personal development is at the root.Also, for situations of high energy as both preventative and healing is perhaps one of who we are spending our life!This is natural power and healing can be a level or obtaining a degree of the characteristics of heat and energy, which some refer to Reiki symbols aren't just for you!

Allergy-like reactions, asthma, and eczemaIf it is transferred through the legs of the symbols by chanting the symbol from the emotional and intellectual aspects of your own peace of mind and body.The spiritual practice Mikao Usui years of practice to tell your practitioner may take years of practice, and understanding.Reiki is not easy to adjust and settle into a room and left brain.In a place for both the healer needed to help people by using motion of hands and letting God do the healing energy of everything - distance cannot exist.

What Is A Usui Reiki Master

Write about your own home at a happier life.She was suddenly very quiet voice that I had been taught yet.These physical things, of course, that promises results online in the balance which mainly exit among our mind, spirit and empowering our life more and more enquiries are being stressful.If I may feel low and stressed, and conversely if it is surprising that some of the head of the West was high.Reiki facilitates the healing energy to you, not you to learn Reiki, different masters made various variations.

The number and position of hands on the other end of the specific signal of your body to heal itself.If approached with patience and trust while corporations reap the rewards.Even if You only shaved a few and choose among those offering Reiki sessions were started and arrangements were made for massage and Jin Shin Acutouch, but still no local Reiki teachers, at least 3 to 5 minutes, before moving on.He trained Mrs. Takata was inaccurate, to say a loving gift of Reiki.The healing energy which covers as well as providing excellent labor and delivery support.

#How To Reiki Animals Astonishing Tricks #Reiki Symbol Protection

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lettersofsky · 7 years

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The Soulmate AU Monstrosity

The Complete Collection of Soulmate AUs I did for Strifesodos a while back using these prompts.

Ko-Fi

Scenario 1 - This Music in My Head

aka Cloud grows up with the Loveless Orchestral Arrangement in his head because you can’t convince me that there isn’t some form of Loveless Opera/Musical Performance on Gaia.

Cloud’s soulmate had a great love for one musical score, he wasn’t sure what it was but his soulmate loved it.

It wasn’t a little one either; wasn’t just one song that they played over and over again. No it was long, it took quite a few hours to listen to it all the way through and that wasn’t including when they would backtrack to play one section over and over again.

More often than not his soulmate would just play a few sections of the piece over and over for hours. Cloud didn’t understand it but if it made his soulmate happy than he couldn’t really complain about the soft music constantly filling his head.

He didn’t really have much to offer in return for his soulmate’s music; they didn’t really have a radio and he wasn’t allowed to go listen to the live musicians that would play at the inn sometimes.

They had his grandfather’s violin though, so one day he asked his mother if he could learn how to play it.

She had peered at him for several long minutes before agreeing to make a deal with him; if he could find someone who could play and was willing to teach him then he could use the instrument. He’d have to work out how he would pay his instructor though.

He had agreed to the deal and started to inquire around the village about who could teach him.

Eventually he managed to convince one of the elders of the village to teach him in exchange for helping him with housework he couldn’t do anymore at his age.

It was a decent exchange, he did some housework three-four times a week then spent a few hours learning how to play his grandfather’s violin.

His soulmate probably got a bit annoyed at how awful he was at it, but he was determined to get better at it.

He stuck to his lessons for years, listening to his soulmate discover different versions of their favourite piece of music; sometimes re-listening to them other never hearing them again.

Cloud still had no idea what half of the instruments in the music were, but he was beginning to figure out how to play his soulmate’s favourite version of the music; the original one.

His teacher was very proud with his progress and his mother was grateful that he was starting to make sounds that actually sounded like music.

He continued to practice and work at the piece until he was able to play the music in his head with some degree of confidence.

It was around this time that he was beginning to play in the inn for the other villagers. This had a few good results; he was slowly gaining more confidence in his playing and in interacting with other people as well as earning a bit of gil to help put food on the table.

All in all things were going great.

His soulmate’s music had never grown louder and he was beginning to doubt it ever would; perhaps it was time to consider leaving Nibelheim.

He left the village when he was fifteen; heading to Midgar to join Shinra’s army.

He believed it was the best decision he could have made at the moment; he didn’t have a full education, nor any formal training. Joining Shinra would hopefully get him enough money to pay for a proper education so he could figure out what he wanted to do with his life.

He took his grandfather’s violin with him when he left; it might help him get some extra cash on the journey to Midgar.

He didn’t reach Midgar before he was picked up by some talent scout that wanted him to sign on his with performance troop. Cloud had agreed to it after reading through the contract to ensure he wasn’t going to get screwed over.

He spent the next few years travelling across the world performing and gaining recognition for his playing.

He barely spared a thought for his soulmate beyond distantly noting when the music, still the same after all these years, got softer or louder in his mind.

He decided to take some time off after his contract was up; taking his numerous offers and taking off to relax for a few weeks before deciding what he wanted to do.

He was in Midgar at the time and the Wutai War was ending, the streets were bustling with returning SOLDIERS and excited family members. The local bar were getting busier as the days passed.

Cloud took advantage of this fact and made an arrangement with one bar he particularly liked to provide live entertainment for a small fee and to keep all the tips he earned.

Most nights he would play cheerful lively songs but there were times when he would play the song he learned for his soulmate. That always seemed to draw a particular crowd but they gave him a good amount of tips so he didn’t question it; it was expensive to stay above the plate after-all.

He had been playing in the bar for almost a month were it happened.

He had been playing that piece when the door opened and the sudden increase of volume of the music in his head nearly forced him to his knees. He vaguely noticed the echo of the music in his mind before it all ceased.

Some patrons he got along with had flocked to him asking if he was alright and inquiring as to what had happened.

He couldn’t answer them, his eyes drawn instinctively to the door where two men had just walked into the bar. One was large and muscular with dark hair but it was the other that held Cloud’s attention.

He was slimmer than his friend but still much taller than Cloud, his hair was a dark red in the bar’s dull light and he was currently slumped against his companion stunned.

Cloud wasn’t sure how he knew, he just did.

That man was his soulmate, the person who only seemed to listen to one piece of music.

Someone must have noticed where his attention was rooted as between one moment and the next he had been moved from where he fell to a table next to his soulmate and his companion.

The table was quiet for a few moments as Cloud tried to figure out what to say while figuring out how to think around the sudden volume of music in his head. Geez, his soulmate had sensitive hearing.

His soulmate suddenly disturbed the quiet at the table with a quick question; “That was ‘Friend’s Reunited’ from Loveless you were playing, wasn’t it?”

Cloud blinked at the man in confusion before replying, “What the hell is ‘Loveless’?”

Scenario 2 - The Taste Upon My Tongue

aka - Shut up Angeal I’d recognise Shinra’s disgusting cafeteria food anywhere, I’m going to go rescue them

“I told you Angeal; it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.” Genesis sighed, gesturing helplessly at his old friend. “It’s thick and savoury with a lot of spices, nothing like here in Midgar.”

“What about the other kinds of cuisine you’ve had? Anything like those?” Angeal asked, giving him a hopeful look.

He merely shook his head in response, “no, I’m sure I’d recognise it if I had.”

Sephiroth suddenly spoke up from where he was working on something or another, “They might be from the North Continent or the mountain area of the Western Continent.”

He froze a few moments after speaking, ducking further behind his hair at the weight of their stunned looks before continuing in a soft voice. “The cuisines in those areas are primarily made up of rich stews and smoked meat.”

Genesis blinked, drawing his gaze back to Angeal. “I’ll just have to wait until I’m sent out that way to make sure then.”

Angeal fixed him with a suspicious look, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your not going to run off to the mountains just to see if your Soulmate lives there.”

Genesis shot his friend a look, showing the larger how idiotic he thought his words were. “Obviously Angeal,” he drawled. “I’m not going to ruin my career.”

He ended up not needing to search out where his Soulmate was from.

He was preparing for his deployment to Wutai when an overwhelming, very familiar taste settled on his tongue. He started Angeal with the volume of his exclamation of disgust.

He was almost out the door before he knew what was happening, he was only stopped from leaving the room by Angeal’s tight grip on his arm. Angeal tugged him back into the room, causing him to stumble back into his friend.

“Wait! What’s going on? Where are you going?” Angeal’s questions were hurried and concerned, flicking his gaze over his form.

“I’ve got to go save them Angeal!” He cried in response, attempting to wrench his arm from Angeal’s grasp.

He was unable to though; his friend was physically stronger than he was.

“Who Genesis?” Angeal asked, keeping him from leaving. “What do you need to save them from?”

Genesis groaned in frustration, tugging his arm once again and answering in an annoyed tone. “Them Angeal! They’re stuck in the cafeteria and I need to get them actual food.”

Angeal blinked at him blankly for a few moments, his grip loosening enough for Genesis to pull himself away from his friend and stride out of the room. He picked up a piece of fruit before making his way towards the cafeteria, where he knew that his Soulmate was still there.

He looked around the large area when he arrived, observing the various people scattered around. It seemed that the new Cadets had started their training.

His Soulmate couldn’t have chosen a better career could they?

Keeping his gaze trained on the scattered Cadets, he took a bite of the fruit in his hand and waited for the reaction.

This was their first time eating the muck Shinra liked to call food, they’d have some kind of reaction to the sudden taste of fruit in their mouth.

He was right.

There was a small blond sitting alone at a table a few feet away from him, Genesis watched as his spine stiffened before slumping further into his seat.

He didn’t bother trying to contain his grin, striding confidently towards the small blond. He was almost certain that this was his Soulmate, now he just had to make sure.

The blond looked up at him in confusion when he came to stand in front of him.

“Take a bite of this, Cadet.” Genesis ordered calmly, waiting patiently for the smaller to do as he asked. He knew about his reputation within the lower ranks, he hoped it would be enough to get the blond to do as he asked without questioning him.

It was.

The blond reached forward to pluck the fruit from his hand, turning it until he could take a bite of it. Genesis was ecstatic when the sweet taste of the fruit burst along his tongue.

His pleased grin was unnerving his little Soulmate, at least if the other’s expression was anything to go by.

He tried to place the fruit down to return to his cafeteria murk but Genesis was quick to stop him. “Oh no, sweetie,” he insisted, nudging the murk away from him. “Finish the fruit, I can’t stand the taste of what they like to call ‘food’.”

Scenario 3 - Your Heart’s in my Chest

aka - I tried but I don’t really like this one but you get it anyway and I’m gonna move on to the next one.

Cloud paused what he was doing, taking a deep, steadying breath as red-hot anger burned in his chest. He waited for it to die down enough to continue his work, noting the tinge of pain that lingered afterwards.

The man he was talking to, a fellow infantryman, waited for him to ficus back on the conversation. After months in Shinra’s infantry it was well known that Cloud’s Soulmate felt things strongly, to the point of overwhelming, and he needed a moment to work through their emotions.

He returned his attention to the other, offering an apologetic smile. He was met with a look of understand as the other repeated his last words, getting the conversation back on track.

Apparently they were being sent to Modeoheim to provide support to a SOLDIER. This was going to be fun, he had surprisingly missed the cold.

He might have enjoyed the mission more if the Turk piloting the helicopter hadn’t crashed the thing, somehow. He didn’t know how the man had managed that and the Turk was far too intimidating for him to ask.

So instead, he kept his mouth shut and supported the SOLDIER to the best of his abilities. It wasn’t his fault that nobody else on the mission seemed to know anything about surviving in the frozen wastes.

Fair seemed like a nice guy though; energetic and optimistic. Cloud could respect that in a person.

In the end they reached their destination before nightfall, Cloud counted it as a win and if the Turk was unhappy with it then he shouldn’t have crashed the helicopter.

The mission was going well, in his opinion; the Fair was a great fighter, the Turk was doing his thing somewhere and he and the other trooper were relatively useless.

But who was he to question his orders?

Then there was a scientist. Fair ordered him to capture the scientist and he did his best to restrain the man. Things were still going well.

Then he showed up.

Cloud felt himself freeze as his heart halted in his chest before irritation and anger exploded in his chest, he felt his grip slacken on the scientist and he slipped away from him.

Cloud forced himself to focus on what was happening, taking off after the scientist. He wasn’t going to fail his mission just because he showed up.

He was definitely going to keep this to himself.

Years had passed, heroes had died, he had been experimented on and a meteor had almost fallen. It between he had forgotten himself, his previous life at Shinra and that he ever discovered his Soulmate.

For a while he had thought his Soulmate was dead; he hadn’t felt anything from the other for a long time, or at least since he had woken up as himself.

It wasn’t until after the DeepGround Crisis that he felt anything from his Soulmate; despair, pain and an overwhelming sense of loneliness suddenly seized him the night after things had calmed down.

He hadn’t been prepared for the overwhelming emotions after so long without them and had nearly fallen to his knees as they swept through him. He had been talking to Vincent went it happened and he was sure his sudden collapse startled the man.

Vincent was quick to get him settled in a chair and hovered around him anxiously. Cloud tried to reassure the man that he was fine and after much convincing he finally let him be.

He rubbed his chest absentmindedly, if his Soulmate really was alive after all this time then he’d need to relearn how to work through their overwhelming emotions. He didn’t need to be worrying any of the others by zoning out during conversations.

His Soulmate was anxious. They were actually feeling a large complex mess of emotions but he recognised anxiety so that was what he was going with. He hoped they calmed down soon, Tifa was laughing at him because of how jumpy their emotions were making him.

He had been asked by Reeve to go check out rumours of an individual sighted in the ruins of Midgar so he couldn’t let their emotions get the better of him.

It was probably nothing but he’d feel better after checking it out.

He rode out to the ruins of Midgar on his bike, manoeuvring carefully around the piles of rubble left behind by everything that had happened here. He reached a clearing in the rubble and dismounted his bike, strapped his sword to his back and set off to find a sign of the individual he had been told about.

It wasn’t so much that he found the individual but that they found him. A strong wave of irritation and fear froze him for a few moments and the next thing he knew a taller man with long knotted red-hair knelt above him, holding a long blade to his throat.

The breath left his chest as he was overwhelmed by a swell of (terror, panic, relief) from his Soulmate. The man above him was looking at him in disbelief, the blade was suddenly removed from his throat as the man yanked him up to crush him against his chest.

He felt the other press their face into his hair, soaking his spikes with tears as he muttered soft apologies.

Now he was really confused.

Scenario 4 - Sit There While I Finish This

aka - Fuck it, I don’t want to write dialogue so I’ll write a dialogue only thing. Yay.

“Cloud, can I just -”

“No.”

“But I need to -”

“No.”

“You are not being fair, my love.”

“You’re still not leaving.”

“But what about -”

“No,

“Cloud I need to get things done today!”

“No you don’t. I checked.”

“... You checked?”

“Yes, I asked Lazard if you had anything you needed to do today. He told me you didn’t.”

“So you’re just going to keep me here all day?”

“Yes.”

“I’m losing feeling in my legs!”

“Let me finish this sleeve and I’ll let you up for a few minutes.”

“Or you could just get off them.”

“No, I’m comfy.”

“Cloud -”

“Stop whining and let me work on these sweaters.”

“At least let me get my book -”

“You should have gotten it before we sat down.”

“I didn’t know -”

“Too bad for you, get it when I let you up.”

“... How many sweaters are you making?”

“One for everyone.”

“You’re making ugly Christmas sweaters for everyone?”

“No, I’m making Sephiroth an ugly Christmas sweater. Everyone else gets a nice one.”

“... Why does Sephiroth get an ugly one?”

“He loves them, now shut up and let me work.”

“I’m going to annoy you so much when I get my book.”

“I know you will love.”

“I’m going to create so much poetry for you.”

“Of course you will.”

“They will be the corniest things you’ve ever heard.”

“I will love ever word.”

Scenario 5 - Once Upon A Dream Sequence

I didn’t know where this was going when I started it and I’m sorry if feels happen.

Cloud had been dreaming of bright, sunny orchards for years. Large trees that bore purple fruit from their branches, days spent learning and refining how to care for them, afternoons dozing under the shade of their leaves.

Cloud loved those dreams, they were nice and peaceful a welcome balm after a tough day. The warm sunshine was so different than the cold mountain air of Nibelheim that some days he could hardly believe the dreams were real.

His mother would give him a sad smile whenever he told her about his dreams, he eventually figured out the reason behind that look. They lived in Nibelheim, he was born in this cold so he would die in this cold; nobody ever left the village, especially not to look for something so silly as Soulmates.

He loved his dreams anyway; the people of the village didn’t like him for reasons he didn’t understand and the dreams were a pleasant distraction from them.

Warm afternoons spent in the company of a dear friend, the feeling of pride and accomplishment as an award is presented, trees that bare fruit larger and sweeter than any other in the orchard.

Over time though a new setting began to grow common; a cold, cruel, bleak city, barren dirt fields under a green-tinted sky, immaculate white corridors that terrified him.

The emotions also changed with the settings. Pride and joy replaced by hurt, anger and a growing feeling of unease every time the white corridors were visited.

He stopped getting as much restful sleep; dreams of a bleak city awakening him after what seemed like mere moments asleep. His mother began to worry about him when he could barely keep his eyes open at the breakfast table.

But he couldn’t let a lack of sleep stop him; if they were going to get through the next winter they had a lot of preparations to make. They needed more food, a larger supply of firewood and there was a few things around the house that needed fixing before the frost set in.

They simply didn’t have the time for him to be out of commission, not if they wanted to live to see the next spring.

The winter was a harsh one but they survived. There were many days were they were hungry or cold but neither of them had fallen ill so Cloud wasn’t going to complain.

The dreams had slowly shifted during the winter, losing their anger and hurt to regain a small amount of happiness when another young man became more prominent in them.

He was very different from the one that had been in the dreams previously; bright metallic hair instead of the black of the other and cold green eyes instead of warm blue.

Cloud was happy that his Soulmate had a new friend, the new tone of the dreams were a welcome change from what they had been mere months ago. Though those dreams still occurred on occasions they were less frequent, meaning he was getting more sleep.

His mother noticed the change in his moods and was happy for him, but they both knew that holding onto the ideas of Soulmates was useless in Nibelheim. Nobody left the village and he didn’t doubt that he would be the same.

What did he have to offer his Soulmate anyways? He was nothing but a useless, quiet mountain boy, all he had to offer were the skills he had learned in his life; he doubted that his Soulmate would be impressed by his abilities to fix things around the house or to skin a Nibel Wolf.

Skills that would keep him alive in Nibelheim wouldn’t have much use outside of it. He didn’t have much use outside of Nibelheim, he was born here and he’d die here like everyone before him.

He didn’t need his Soulmate to survive and he was sure they’d be better off without knowing him. It was for the best.

The dreams began to change once again, blood-stained battlefields and burning forests becoming more and more frequent as rumours of a war with Wutai reached the mountains.

Men from Shinra came to his village, trying to recruit for the war but none would go with them. The people too set in their ways to even consider leaving their ancestral homes.

Cloud would watch the men curiously from where he was working at the time, watching them try to interact with the townsfolk only to be treated with sneers and glares.

One of the men noticed him watching one day and approached him trying to talk to him. He remained silent though, the villagers already didn’t like him their was no reason to encourage their ire.

Then man eventually seemed to realise this and left him alone. Good, one of the elders was glaring at them and Cloud doubted that the interaction would be looked over.

He was right, unfortunately.

The men eventually left the village and things returned to the norm, but the villagers were crueller to him than they had ever been. The elders turning a blind eye while encouraging cruelty in their children.

One day he returned home holding his arm at an odd angle and the village doctor was unwilling to look at it. That year he learned how to care and bandage his wounds.

War still waged in his dreams, intermittent with scenes he was more familiar with; past and present colliding in the haze of sleep.

His mother worried more for him, fearful that he wouldn’t make it to adulthood. But he was stubborn and survival was coded in his blood, Nibelheim did not often allow the weak to live.

The mayor’s wife died suddenly and the Lockhart household fell into despair. She had fallen ill and quickly faded despite everything the doctor tried to do to save her.

Tifa, the mayor’s daughter, was devastated by her death according to his mother. He hadn’t been in the village the past week, having gone further into the mountains to hunt.

He could sometimes be gone for weeks so when he returned with the spoils of his hunt she would inform him of what had occurred while he was away.

He enjoyed those times when he got the chance to talk to his mother. All he had in the mountains were his dreams and the wolves and dragons, he missed talking to people after a few days out there.

He had been heading out to the mountains again when things went wrong. He hadn’t known about Tifa’s desperate want for her mother, hadn’t known that she believed her mother was somewhere beyond the Nibel Mountains.

He hadn’t known that she would cross the old bridge at the same time as him. He couldn’t have imagined that the bridge would break under them, causing them to plunge to the depths below.

He was terrified as they fell to the earth below, he couldn’t hear anything past the rush of wind in his ears though he was sure that he had screamed. A great, terrible agony ran through him as he impacted the ground and he fell into unconsciousness.

The next time he was aware of anything, he was resting in a bed and he could hear his mother shouting at someone from another room. He couldn’t keep his eyes open for long though and he soon fell into sleep.

He was glad that he couldn’t have nightmares but the dreams he did have hurt him in a way he hadn’t expected them to. The dreams were hazy scenes of heat, pale skin and warm, fond smiles and they caused pain to spark through his chest until long after he woke again.

He lay on the bed, unable to lift his arms and thought about his reaction to the dreams. His Soulmate had apparently found a lover and he should be happy about that.

He wasn’t going to find them, they deserved to be happy and if they truly were a part of the war in Wutai then he should be happy that they had found someone to be happy with if only for a little while.

He relaxed further into the bed as his mother walked into the room and started fussing over him. He shouldn’t care about what his Soulmate’s choices, they were better off without him.

He wasn’t getting better.

This was something he heard the doctor telling his mother over and over again; he wasn’t getting better, there was nothing they could do, I’m sorry.

He heard her crying in her room on more than one occasion, mourning him before his death even occurred. He started to sleep more often as the days passed, unable to keep his eyes open for longer than a few hours at a time.

His dreams grew choppier as well, more often than not showing him sunny orchards and grassy hills. He wondered what it was that his Soulmate saw when they slept?

Did they see the snow-capped mountains and dark forests? Or perhaps the little home he had always lived in? Were they aware of how the villagers treated him or did they only know of his mother’s kindness?

Did they suspect that his end was coming or were they blissfully unaware?

He forced his eyes open and tried to give his mother a reassuring smile as she hovered at his bedside. He didn’t want to worry her more than he already was, he’d do what he could to reassure her that he was fine.

Even if neither of them believed it.

His current dream was odd; his Soulmate was in a helicopter sitting next to his silver haired friend as they travelled. He could hear voices but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

The dream was charged with unease and impatience, his Soulmate was shifting in their seat focusing more on the sky outside the vehicle than what was going on around him.

The dream faded to darkness for a moment before returning, changing to a scenery he recognised. The snowy ground, old wooden buildings and distrustful villagers the same things he had seen for as long as he could remember.

Why was his Soulmate in Nibelheim?

He couldn’t wake from his dream so he was forced to watch as his Soulmate strode confidentially through the village towards his home. He saw his mother answer the door and hesitantly allowed them inside.

His Soulmate cast their gaze over his home before moving towards his room. Cloud saw himself lying pale and wane in his bed before the dream faded to darkness and his last breath froze in his chest.

Scenario 6 - Your life is my Favourite Read

aka - Platonic Soulmates is one of my most favourite things ever and nothing will ever change that, so deal with it or skip.

“Your soulmate is so cute,” Genesis whined, slumping back against Sephiroth’s surprisingly comfy couch. “I wanna date him.”

“So why don’t you?” Came Sephiroth’s confused answer, watching Genesis from the other side of the couch.

“Because,” Genesis responded passionately. “He’s your soulmate!”

“And?” Sephiroth prompted after a few moments of Genesis staring at him intently.

Genesis could only groan at the man, slumping over his knees with his head in his hands. Sephiroth’s next words, spoken offhandedly, made him freeze;

“He wants to date you too.”

Genesis understood the romance behind reading all about your Soulmates life through their tied books, he really did. It was just that his Soulmate had died when he was two, leaving his book a terribly short read and collecting dust at the bottom of his draw.

So he couldn’t really relate to the general populace when they spoke about the person their books told them about. He kept his opinion to himself though, their was no reason to bring other people down with his inability to understand.

Angeal had known him long enough to carefully prevent conversations to turn to that particular topic and was kind enough to attempt to make excuses when he accidentally offended someone without meaning to.

Meeting Sephiroth had almost been a godsend, the man didn’t talk about Soulmates at all more focused on battle tactics and weapon techniques than anything else.

It probably helped that he had no idea how to actually talk to people but nobody liked to discuss that.

For a long time, Genesis had thought that Sephiroth didn’t have a Soulmate either; he had never seen the man with his tied book, Sephiroth never said anything when the topic did come up. So Genesis did not hold himself responsible for accidentally reading the thing one day after returning from his most recent deployment to Wutai.

He had just thought it was another book on Sephiroth’s shelf; it was just sitting there in the middle of the bookcase. He hadn’t been paying attention when he grabbed it, thinking it would be some boring thing that he could gloss over while waiting for Sephiroth.

He had slumped onto the couch and opened the book, preparing to wait for Sephiroth to finish whatever he was currently doing so they could discuss what was happening in Wutai.

He had ended up skimming through a few pages before realising what he was actually reading. He was frozen stunned for a few minutes, reading over the page once again to make sure that he wasn’t fooling himself before flinging the book to the other side of the couch frantically when Sephiroth opened the door behind him.

To say Sephiroth was confused by the scene he had opened the door to, was an understatement.

“... What do you mean Cloud wants to date me?!” Genesis asked, shock and disbelief colouring his tone as he stared at Sephiroth. He must have heard that wrong, there was no way that -

“Cloud wants to date you too.” Sephiroth repeated slowly, clearly enunciating each word as if Genesis didn’t understand them.

He understood what Sephiroth was saying, he just didn’t understand what Sephiroth was saying.

“But he’s your Soulmate!”

“... I know that.” Sephiroth responded to his believing cry with his usual infuriating straightforward calm, looking at Genesis like he thought he was stupid.

“How can you say your Soulmate wants to date me?!” Genesis asked, trying to come at the topic with a different approach; maybe that would make Sephiroth understand where he was coming from.

Sephiroth just shrugged dismissively, replying in a calm voice. “He thinks you look good and he likes how passionate you are about the things you’re interested in.”

His brows furrow slightly at his disbelieving face, “I thought it was a good thing when the person you’re interested in is interested in you as well.”

Genesis groaned, carding his hand through his hair as he figured out the best way to phrase his answer.

Sephiroth had been confused when Genesis tried to apologise for reading his tied book; he didn’t understand the notion that they were supposed to be private things.

(Genesis had to resist his sudden violent urge to burn down the science department with Hojo locked inside.)

No, Sephiroth instead offered to let Genesis read more if he wanted. He justified his request by saying he wanted to know if what his Soulmate was experiencing was common in small town communities.

Genesis had been conflicted; on one hand he was preening at the fact that Sephiroth wanted his opinion on something like this, on the other he didn’t want to intrude on something that was supposed to be a very private matter.

In the end he relented to Sephiroth’s earnest, concerned look and agreed to read what had worried the other.

Sephiroth had picked up his tied book and flipped through it confidentially until he reached what he was looking for, Genesis felt a stab of something in his chest at the ease in which the other found the pages he was looking for but he was trying to be a not-so-bitter person so he paid the feeling no mind.

Sephiroth then sat next to him and handed him the book, open to what he wanted Genesis to tell him about. He held the book gingerly, a little uneasy about holding the thing but after reading the first few words on the page before him.

No, he had told Sephiroth after reading the page. That was not normal small-town behaviour at all. He didn’t miss the forlorn expression Sephiroth fixed on the book in his hands at his words.

He handed the book back to his friend, watching as he held it gently to his chest. He sighed heavily and slumped back into the couch, there wasn’t anything either of them could do about how Sephiroth’s Soulmate was being treated by their village.

Several minutes of silence pass before Sephiroth cuts through the tension of the room by asking Genesis about how things were going in Wutai. He had been grateful for the chance to change the topic and dove into the conversation eagerly.

It didn’t stop him from worrying about the poor soul Sephiroth’s book was about though.

“Sephiroth,” Genesis sighed eventually, fixing the other man with a look. “Why would Cloud want to date me when he has you for a Soulmate?”

Sephiroth seemed to realise what Genesis was trying to say then, sitting back and watching him with a soft gaze. “He doesn’t want to date me, Genesis.” He said calmly.

“But -” Sephiroth cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“We tried dating once, after he came to Midgar.” Sephiroth explained, keeping his gaze trained on Genesis’ form. “We both hated it and decided we were better off friends,” he ended with a shrug.

Genesis was left staring at the other in disbelief, he hadn’t heard about that before. It gave him a small bit of hope.

“So, Cloud,” Genesis started hesitantly after a few moments, his gaze focused on the coffee table before them. “You think he’d be willing to get dinner with me, sometime?”

Sephiroth chuckled at his halting question, “you’ll just have to ask him, won’t you?”

That was really all he needed to give it a shot.

Genesis tried not to think about Sephiroth’s Soulmate too much, he had other things to worry about; the war with Wutai for instance.

Though he wasn’t able to forget about them completely. Sephiroth had, for some reason, decided that he was someone he could talk to about his Soulmate.

There were many nights in Wutai where, neither of them able to sleep due to nerves and excess energy, they would sit up for hours talking about whatever topic they wished. They often ended up talking about the topic of Soulmates and their tied books.

But, now they were back from the War until Shinra deployed them again and Sephiroth was acting odd. Even Angeal was noticing that Sephiroth was acting differently.

He was distracted and distant but also seemed happier when they did manage to force him to talk to them. The reason behind his sudden change in behaviour was revealed to them eventually.

His name was Cloud, he was 5′7″, blond and very willing to drop someone on their arse if they messed with him. He was also quiet, reserved with a dry, snarky wit.

Sephiroth could’ve had a worse Soulmate.

The man was patient and understanding; exactly what Sephiroth needed in a partner.

Genesis was ashamed to admit that he fell hard for the blond. It was hard not to when Cloud was so genuinely interested in his interests and willing to converse with him about his love of literature.

It was nice; to have someone so willing to listen to him rant about what he loved and was even willing to discuss it with him. He gave as good as he got, listening intently as Cloud talked about his love of machinery and the beautiful places he had seen in his travels.

He was doomed.

S: How did it go? C: It was good. I had a great time. S: Oh? C: Yeah, we’re going to do it again. S: That’s good. C: You kicked him into gear didn’t you? S: ... no. C: Seph. S:[file X07-03] sent C: You can’t send me cute cat videos and expect me to forgive you. S:[file X19-97] sent S:[file X06-17] sent C: Fine, fine. You’re forgiven just don’t do it again, ok? S: You deserve to be happy. C: I would’ve gotten around to it... S: I only sped things along. C: You’re awful. S: As you keep saying. C: Talk to you later alright? S: Stay safe. C: Yeah yeah, you too.

Scenario 7 - Let’s Play Hot and Cold with Mood Rings

Changing this one around a bit so that cold means they’re far away, room temperature means you’re closer and hot means they’re right in front of you.

Cloud hadn’t worn his pendant in years, instead it had been buried deep in one of his drawers in a small, locked box.

The pendant had been fractured when he fell from the bridge with Tifa. A large crack had nearly broken it in two and the cord it was on needed replacing.

He kept the cracked pendant in a small box, firstly because the cord needed replacing and then because he couldn’t bring himself to put it on.

He was on his way to Midgar tomorrow, he was planning to join Shinra’s SOLDIER program there and try to make something of himself.

His impeding departure from Nibelheim had gotten him to dig the box out of his drawer. He opened the plain wooden box, staring down at the cracked black stone within.

He closed the box with the pendant still inside, placing the box securely in his bag and resumed packing.

He wasn’t ready to put the pendant on but he didn’t want to leave it here, so he would bring it along to Midgar with him.

The SOLDIER cadet program was tough but he enjoyed it, some of the other cadets were idiots but he had managed to make a few friends amongst his class.

Almost everyone in his class wore their pendants in some form; some around their necks, others wrapped theirs around their wrists.

A few of the others had questioned him about why he never wore his pendant, but they backed off after he said he didn’t wish to talk about it. There were still a few that questioned him but they were easy to ignore.

He’d never seen so many pendants in once place and he had heard many of the other cadets complain about how cold or warm they grew as they travelled outside of Midgar for training.

After a few months of training he was comfortable enough to tease them alongside the other cadets. He was happy to admit that he had made a few friends during his time as a cadet, even happier still that they continued to be friends even after he failed to make it into the SOLDIER program.

He wasn’t the only one who didn’t make it into SOLDIER; some didn’t meet the physical requirements, others the mental and some like him couldn’t handle the Mako injections needed to enter SOLDIER.

Some of them left Shinra all together, those that had opportunities outside of Shinra waiting for them back home. Many like him stayed in Shinra and joined the infantry, signing a minimum year contract and working that way.

The friends that had stayed in Shinra met when they could to catch up on each other’s lives and exchange their accumulated gossip. He and the others in the infantry seemed to get the best gossip.

It was understandable, they were often treated as little more than wall ornaments by the general population of Shinra after all. It was only natural that they hear things from people who didn’t notice them.

Many of the scandals of Shinra were shared over drinks in whatever bar they had decided on that month. It was nice, even if he didn’t get into SOLDIER he could enjoy the way things had turned out and he could be happy for his friends that had made it.

He had been in the infantry almost a year when one of his friends found the box with his pendant within it.

Reno had been a surprise inclusion to his circle of friends. He had been assigned to a mission with the Turk a few months ago and the Turk had decided he liked him for some reason Cloud couldn’t understand.

Since then Reno would invade his space and join him when he met with the others every fortnight to catch up. Nobody else really minded Reno joining, he always had some great stories to share with the others and wasn’t against drinking until he dropped to the floor.

That usually left Cloud dragging the idiot back to his place so he could sleep off the alcohol and to deal with the hangover the next morning. Some days, he woke up to Reno’s partner hanging out in his room first thing in the mornings.

Rude was quiet and slightly intimidating but he hadn’t done anything to him so Cloud didn’t have a problem with the larger Turk. On those days, Rude would wait until Reno woke and then carry him out of the room before Reno was properly awake despite his whining.

Reno would show back up a few days later, so Cloud didn’t bother worrying about him.

Cloud had left Reno alone in his room while he finished preparing to meet with the others. When he returned to the room, he saw that Reno was holding the box that held his pendant.

He froze in the doorway, staring at Reno until the other noticed his presence.

Reno had returning his gaze for a few moments before standing and approaching him holding the box in his hands.

“I’m sorry, yo.” He said as he placed the box in Cloud’s hands. “I didn’t mean to pry, I didn’t know what was inside.”

“It’s fine,” Cloud replied, focusing on the cracked black stone within the box. “You didn’t know what was inside.”

They remained silent for a few minutes before Reno spoke softly, “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

Cloud only nodded in reply, he hadn’t worn the pendant in years. “It was cracked in an accident when I was younger, I haven’t worn it since.”

Their was silence for several moments before Reno broke it; “You ready to head out?”

Cloud nodded, welcoming the change in topic. He should focus on the night to come, not on the cracked pendant in the box within his hands.

He placed the box back in his drawer gently and exited the room behind Reno.

The topic of his pendant came up again almost a month later, though this time Reno was more forward about the subject.

Reno had draped himself over him when he entered and hadn’t removed himself since. Cloud bore it as gracefully as he could, ignoring the man clinging to him as he got ready.

Reno had been whining about his boss’ new Soulmate and how much more work he had to do since Rude was away. Cloud ignored his words for the moment, letting the Turk complain to him.

He noticed that Reno had been silent for a few minutes and turned to look at the man. Reno was fixing him with a thoughtful gaze and didn’t seem to notice Cloud’s gaze on him.

“You should wear it,” Reno eventually muttered, flicking his gaze towards where Cloud kept his pendant.

“What?” Cloud asked after a moments wait, keeping his own gaze trained on his friend.

“Your pendant, you should wear it.” Reno explained, flicking between Cloud’s face and the drawer containing his pendant.

“Why do you say that?” Cloud questioned, confused as to why Reno had brought it up.

“Tseng only found out that Fair was his Soulmate because we dared him to have his pendant on for the rest of the day.” Reno explained as he absentmindedly fiddled with the pale orange stone hanging from his neck. “They wouldn’t have known if he didn’t put it on.”

Cloud watched his friend for several minutes before nodding hesitantly, moving over to his drawer and opening it to retrieve the box holding his pendant from within.

He swallowed heavily as he lifted the cracked pendant from the box it rested in. He placed the pendant around his name and watched as it changed from dead black to a bright vibrant orange-yellow colour, it warmed against his chest as he watched it until it settled at one temperature.

He focused his attention back on Reno and saw that he had a pleased expression on his face. Cloud slipped on his jacket and began to make his way from the room, hearing Reno hurry out behind him.

They had to get to the bar early this week it was Cloud’s turn to pay after all.

His friend’s were surprised when they showed up at the bar; they had expected to find Cloud and Reno waiting for them at a table, probably nursing their first drinks of the night.

Both Reno and Cloud were there but that was the end of what they expected to see when they stepped into the bar.

What they hadn’t expected was to see the Crimson Commander of SOLDIER sitting next to Cloud, leaning into his space as they conversed with each other. They hadn’t expected to see the shy, smile on Cloud’s face as he spoke with the Commander.

They certainly never imagined that they would ever see the hint of Soul pendant under Cloud’s shirt, alongside the freely hanging pendant hanging from the Commander’s throat; both glowing soft, content yellows.

#strifesodos #cloud strife #Genesis Rhapsodos #ffvii #Soulmate AU #long post #Compilation Post #my stories #gencloud #fanfiction #fanfic #Skyee Writes

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