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set-phasers-to-whump · 2 years ago

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breaking

prompt: hiding an illness

whumpee: gereon rath

fandom: gereon rath mysteries/babylon berlin

hi what's up here's the slightly delayed start to my month-ish of writing for my bthb card! only note on this fic is it's mostly based on the books but can be fit in the context of the show pretty easily. i hope you like it!

Gereon Rath wakes up on a chilly, overcast Tuesday morning with a pounding headache, a throat that feels scraped raw, and a general feeling of complete exhaustion. The exhaustion is fairly normal - he never gets enough sleep - but the headache and sore throat are not. Today is going to be a long day.

As soon as he climbs out from beneath the covers, he begins to shiver. The floor feels unbearably cold beneath his bare feet and his head spins with the change in position.

For a brief second, as he’s struggling to button his collar, Gereon thinks about calling off. But Gennat is already not entirely pleased with his progress on his current investigation, and Gereon just knows that if he slips up one more time, all his hard work will have been for nothing and control of the investigation will pass to Böhm. He’d rather get some work done but feel a little miserable than spend the day languishing and worrying over whether he’ll still be in charge of his own investigation come tomorrow.

He makes up his mind to go to work and act like everything is completely normal. As if in reaction to this decision, a sudden tickle works its way into his throat, forcing him to cough. It’s harsh and painful, making his eyes water. He blinks hard, takes a deep, aching breath, and heads for the stairs.

The drive to the Castle is a barrage of sound and light that pulses through his already-aching head until he can barely focus on the street in front of him. By some miracle, he and his car arrive at work unharmed, and he walks through the front doors with what he hopes is a perfectly neutral look on his face.

He steps through the door to A Division a few minutes before the morning meeting begins, and his ears are immediately assaulted by some kind of shouting match taking place between Henning and Czerwinski. He winces at the noise and resists the temptation to cover his ears, instead making a beeline for his office in the hopes of getting at least a minute or two of relative quiet.

He doesn’t bother to turn on the light, as that’s just about the last thing his aching head needs. He simply sinks down into his chair and pillows his head on his arms, feeling a bead of sweat roll down his face even as he shivers and pulls his overcoat tighter around his body.

He’s absolutely miserable and the day hasn’t even officially begun. Tears of frustration prick at the backs of his eyes as he thinks about the long hours of work ahead of him, but he refuses to let them fall. He’ll be fine. He has to be.

He gives himself just a couple of minutes sitting there in the dark and breathing deeply before he forces himself to his feet. His head spins. He ignores it and steels himself for the noisy atmosphere that always accompanies morning meetings.

Gereon is among the last of the division to take a seat. He winds up directly across from Böhm, who glares at him. Despite his misery, Gereon feels a gleam of satisfaction - he knows Böhm wants this case, and there is no way he will let the bulldog have it. He’ll push through. He’ll be fine.

He half-listens as other members of the squad discuss updates to their own investigations, but is sure to pay enough attention so that when the Buddha calls on him to report, he’s ready.

He talks about the progress they’d made yesterday - not much, admittedly, though there may be something involving a butcher’s shop - and outlines today’s objectives. This includes visiting said butcher’s shop, as well as interviewing six possible witnesses, all of whom had yesterday claimed to have no knowledge of the murder that had taken place directly outside their windows.

Gereon finishes speaking and subtly reaches up to rub his pained throat. Meanwhile, Gennat nods in satisfaction, and shortly thereafter, the meeting breaks up. Gereon steels himself to work and gathers his team: Henning and Czerwinski, who have evidently come to an agreement regarding the contents of their earlier argument, and Gräf.

“We’ll visit the butcher first. Henning and Czerwinski, you’ll go with me. Gräf, I need you to set up for the witness interviews. We shouldn’t be long.”

They split up and Gereon leads the way outside, tensing his muscles in an effort to stop himself from visibly shivering in the unbearably cold air. He supposes it must work, or else Plisch and Plum are completely unobservant this morning (which is entirely possible), because neither of them comments on it.

The drive to the butcher’s is mercifully short, and Gereon, slightly invigorated from the morning’s activity, focuses on the road with a clearer head than before.

Their visit’s purpose is twofold: it’s possible that the shop was used as an escape route for their killer, and it’s also possible the owner heard something the night of the murder, though he had not been forthcoming with what exactly this was when he’d called the station. Gereon determines that Henning and Czerwinski will handle investigating the possibility of the former, while he himself will ask the owner about the latter.

They walk through the door and are immediately assaulted with the smell of raw meat. It makes Gereon nauseous. He doesn’t even want to breathe. But breathing shallowly, he quickly discovers, makes him feel both like he is about to start coughing and like he is about to pass out. He decides he can deal with a little nausea in exchange for the other two things not happening.

The three men set to work. Gereon and the butcher sit on two rickety chairs in a cramped office that somehow smells more strongly of meat than the front of the shop.

“What do you have to tell us?” he asks, his voice slightly hoarse, so that he’s forced to cough to clear it up. Pain shoots up his throat, and he almost misses the butcher’s answer.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. I mean to say, I didn’t want to get into any trouble with whoever it was. But I swear I heard footsteps in the shop after closing. I think I heard a man whisper something about a wall, and there might have been a response, but I can’t be sure. And when I went to check, I knew that someone had been here. They took some of my sausages.”

Gereon has to think about his next question, which usually would have passed his lips instinctively. “Did you see anything else?”

The man closes his eyes, evidently deep in thought. “There was a mark on the wall, like someone had scuffed a boot against it. Maybe there was dirt on the floor, too, but I would have swept it away - I do still have customers, you know.”

Gereon nods. His head throbs. He swallows against a particularly strong wave of nausea and can’t quite stop himself from wincing at the sharp pain that winds its way down his throat.

“Can I see the mark?” he asks, after an awkwardly long period of silence.

“Of course.”

The butcher gets up and goes to the door that joins the office to the rest of the shop. Gereon stands to follow him, and a wave of intense dizziness washes over him. He nearly sinks back onto the chair, but manages to stay on his feet.

After a second, he begins to walk towards the open door, which suddenly seems impossibly far away. Black spots dance in his vision and his legs shake underneath him and everything hurts and he’s cold and dizzy and nauseous and sick and he should have stayed at home, he’d gladly give the case over to Böhm now if it’d mean being anywhere but here, he can’t do this, he can’t -

He catches himself on the door jamb, blinks long and slow at the scene of Henning and Czerwinski excitedly talking and gesturing with the butcher, and then his legs disappear from underneath him and suddenly he’s on the ground.

The next thing he’s aware of is someone tapping his face insistently. He forces his eyes open and stares up at the blurred faces of Henning and Czerwinski and the butcher, in various states of concern.

“What happened?” Czerwinski asks.

“He’s really warm,” Henning replies, turning his head around to look at his friend. He turns back to Gereon as he asks, “what’s wrong with you?”

Gereon’s tongue feels like lead in his mouth. He shivers and tries to think up a suitable excuse. “I’m okay,” he mumbles, eventually.

“You have a fever.”

At this proclamation, the butcher backs away from him, muttering something about customers. Henning and Czerwinski remain where they are, and Henning reaches down and pulls Gereon into a sitting position with a good deal more force and speed than is strictly necessary.

For a second, Gereon’s vision whites out. His ears start to ring and he shuts his eyes and tries to breathe through the dizziness. He cannot remember the last time he felt so sick. He just wants to go home.

After a moment, he realizes that Henning and Czerwinski are talking above him. He catches words but not their meaning. He’d like to curl in on himself and fall asleep, but Henning’s arms are trapping him. At least they’re warm, though Gereon himself is still freezing.

“Okay?” he hears, all of a sudden, the first word he’s actually able to parse. He isn’t sure who or what the word is referring to, but he thinks it might be him. For lack of a better option, he very slowly, very slightly, nods.

He isn’t sure what he expected. All of a sudden he’s being pulled to his feet and he nearly passes out again and as soon as his legs take on weight they’re shaking and he can feel himself starting to lose the battle with the tears building behind his eyes but he won’t - he can’t - not in front of his subordinates. Not in front of anyone at all.

Henning and Czerwinski all but drag him to the car. Gereon is shoved almost gently into the backseat. The engine starts. Dimly, he wonders when Henning had gotten hold of his keys.

He leans his head against the cold window as they pull away from the shop, staring without really seeing as his breath fogs up the glass.

“Where do you live?” comes Czerwinski’s voice from the passenger seat.

Gereon mumbles his address without thinking about it. He wants water. His throat feels like it is full of sand.

The drive passes torturously slowly. He hears Henning and Czerwinski quietly bickering, and under that, the sounds of traffic. He closes his eyes and wishes he could fall asleep.

Eventually, the car stops. Gereon opens his eyes and realizes that they are stopped in front of his apartment building. He vaguely recalls having given Czerwinski the address. He’s home. The thought of his own bed is nearly enough to finally make him cry. So too is the thought of being left completely alone, although he is quite well used to it.

“I’ll go in on my own,” he says, when Henning tries to help him get out of the car. Despite his current state, he does have authority, and Henning listens.

“Feel better,” he says, quite sincerely, if awkwardly.

Gereon sort of nods, and then he’s alone. He walks very slowly and carefully into the building, staring at the ground the whole time.

He takes the elevator up to his floor, ignoring the operator because he simply cannot find it in himself to speak. He’ll have to apologize later, he thinks. For the time being, he simply gives the man the same half-nod he’d given Henning before stepping off the elevator and onto his floor.

His hand shakes as he inserts the key into the lock. It rattles as he struggles to turn it, and then the door opens, though he hadn’t fully turned the key.

For a second he simply stares at her, uncomprehending. Charly isn’t supposed to be back from Hamburg until tomorrow morning. And yet she’s here, in his apartment, with a smile on her face that rapidly turns into an expression that is half shock, half worry.

She tugs him inside when he finds that his legs won’t move. The door closes behind them, horribly loud in the relative silence.

“What’s wrong?”

He looks at her and tries to come up with a suitable answer. He opens his mouth to say something, but a harsh cough tears its way through him before he can get a single word out.

The cough leaves him with tears in his eyes, and this time, he isn’t able to fight them off. He just - breaks. He starts to cry, all of the misery and pain and absolute exhaustion overwhelming in their intensity.

Charly surges forwards and wraps gentle arms around him, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder.

“You’re burning up,” she says softly. “Are you ill?”

He nods against her shoulder, too worn out to be ashamed of admitting the truth, of wanting this comfort.

“Come on.”

Charly pulls him by the hand down the hall and into the bedroom. Her hand is shockingly cold against his own, but it’s comforting, too.

He lies down atop the covers and immediately closes his eyes, which are still dripping tears down his face. He has not been this tired in a long time. Nor has he been so cared for. He feels Charly pull a blanket over him, feels her remove his shoes, feels her cold hand on his forehead and in his hair.

“Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Gereon tugs the blanket tighter around himself and at last falls asleep.

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

#bad things happen bingo #babylon berlin #gereon rath mysteries #gereon rath #sick #fever #comfort #my writing #i say things #people are hooting and hollering distantly outside rn. it's like 10pm on a wednesday.#anyway. feels good to be back writing. hopefully will be able to finish the card this month #we will see. i do have a bit to do for yknow. school. but im hopeful #ok i have to go do reading now. byeeee <3

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mattzerella-sticks · 2 years ago

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I adored this season of the boys but I thought the finale was weaker compared to episodes 6 and 7 which were masterpieces imo I think this is the last season they can do this "going back to the status quo with a few changes" thing. The moment they kill Homelander the show is over but they can't do another season where it all goes back to where it all started again I hope they have a way to get past it but frankly this show shouldn't go beyond 5 seasons I think that's the most logical number

I loved this season, and the finale - even though there were a few choices that maybe I'm still scratching my head at.

Mainly Soldier Boy, Homelander, and Ryan.

The way episode 7 ended, it was as if they were setting up Soldier Boy to betray Billy and Hughie. But then we find out he told them Homelander was his son afterwards? So, like... I guess the monologue about always wanting a son was just a hint towards the Homelander reveal? Or maybe we weren't supposed to take him at his word because he's supposed to be an unreliable narrator - everything he says about himself is fake, or he might believe what he says or says it because he thinks he has to, but doesn't mean it? I think the only genuine thing out of Soldier Boy's mouth was the monologue about the daddy issues...

I mean, maybe I'm also a little disappointed that he was only there for the season lol but at least it's not like Stormfront where they really did off her soon after season 2. He could always come back but I'm not sure the story will go down a path that makes sense to free him.

However, now thinking about it - given Homelander's portrayal this episode, which was pitch perfect, I guess they couldn't keep Jensen around because Homelander is supposed to be the main bad guy. They can't keep having their main baddie getting smoked out of the water by other, better villains (Stormfront, Madelyn Stillwell, Soldier Boy).

And, with Homelander, they set up where I think the series is going - as I mentioned in an earlier post. Even though it made little sense why Ryan went with Homelander. But I guess kids don't make much sense either. And Billy really messed up in episode 3 so... actions have consequences!!!

The finale, though, didn't really go back to the status quo. The Seven is gone. Black Noir is dead 😭 and Maeve is done. Butcher is on the outs and has a year, at best, to live. Annie is working with them full-time. The landscape has changed around them with Victoria Neuman really coming into her own as the VP pick and next season's main villain (which I am glad to have been able to call from last episode lol). The only return to status quo thing, i think, was the plan to kill Homelander failed - back to the drawing board!

Which, you're right, once Homelander is killed that's the show. They might have one more episode detailing the aftermath where they deal with who did kill Homelander - because i don't think it'll be Butcher or any of them (again, it looks like they're setting Ryan up for something, he's gonna be taking over the comic book Black Noir storyline).

But this whole season I've been saying this show was going to have five seasons. I don't think it needs anymore.

Because, like, the only reason why the Boys comic continued a bit after Homelander's death (besides the Black Noir reveal) was also because Butcher made the most insane turn and started offing his friends. I don't think that'll be the case in this adaptation thank GOD.

But to your point about this episode being weaker, I will say this episode had to do more than the last 2. 6 and 7 were more focused so they could do more. 6 was about herogasm. 7 was about the mind guy. 8 had do to a bit more across the board AND set up the next season. Every character made choices that made sense with what was established, except for Soldier Boy regarding Homelander - but, again, if he was lying about wanting to be a dad then maybe it was the right choice.

What episode 8 was though was it tied the season up rather perfectly and set up their move onto the endgame.

#the boys #the boys s3 #soldier boy #homelander #billy butcher

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 3 years ago

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Every Emma Woodhouse Ranked and Rated

With all my reviews of all the period-set adaptations now finished, I'm beginning my series in which I rate and rank each interpretation of all the principle characters, starting with our girl Emma!

Now I wanna be clear--I am not rating the actresses that played Emma. I am rating how the character was handled in general in each adaptation. The actresses are a factor, but they're not the sole factor, since the writer and director have as much, if not more, to do with how the character ends up in the finished product. So without futher ado, let's rank...

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her….

“The real evils indeed of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much of her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself; these were the disadvantages that threatened alloy to her many enjoyments.”

NUMBER 5: 1972

Portrayed by: Doran Godwin

Age at time of filming: 28

Clocking in as the oldest actress to play Austen’s famously TWENTY-ONE year old heroine (at the ripe age of 28), Doran Godwin also snags the coveted position as inhabiting the worst portrayal of the character (in my personal estimation) to date.

Just about everything about this interpretation of Emma Woodhouse is bad, from her seemingly automated recital of her lines to her all-too-intense, wide-eyed, hypnotic stare. The 1972 portrayal of Emma highlights all the character’s worst qualities while also failing to convincingly communicate her good qualities, such as her caring nature. The script is equally to blame for the awfulness of this interpretation, adding unnecessarily cruel and condescending lines, including one where she negs Harriet for being sad after Elton’s marriage, and then forces Harriet to come with her to meet the new Mrs. Elton, when Emma in the book did her best to shield Harriet from exactly that kind of situation.

Godwin couldn’t pass for 21 if her life had depended on it, and the worst part is that the script actually states Emma’s age, so she seems like a bit of a crazy spinster, preying on the naïve Harriet. Whether it’s her intent to bathe in Harriet’s blood to keep herself young, or to bake her into a pie is up for debate.

Rating: 1/5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 4: 2020

Portrayed by: Anya Taylor Joy

Age at time of filming: 23

I thought long and hard about this. This movie is a modern period drama phenomenon. It’s gotten so many people into Jane Austen and satisfied long-time Austen fans by giving them an interpretation they never dared hope to see. It’s a gorgeous film.

But I don’t like this interpretation of Emma Woodhouse. Though Anya Taylor Joy is one of the youngest actresses to play Emma (only two years older than the character) she’s played with a careful stiffness that perhaps shows us a glimpse of the Lady Catherine she might turn into without swift intervention. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and this isn’t a commentary on Anya Taylor Joy either—her appearance or her acting ability—but I just don’t like her as Emma. And she’s not the sole problem, she turns in a solid performance, she’s a good actress, but something about this characterization is just off-color to me. Anya Taylor Joy plays a great mean-girl; but I think that’s one of the reasons why they thought she’d be a good choice for this role, and it’s one of the prime reasons I don’t think she wasright for it. Emma is a deeply flawed character and, of course, the biggest turning point in her story comes as a result of a thoughtlessly mean remark to someone who has only ever shown her deference, hospitality and gratitude.

All that said, Emma is not, at her core, a cruel person. Emma has gone all her life thinking condescending things about Miss Bates but it’s only when Frank comes along and validates her less kind commentaries that she actually starts to voice them in search of validation from a peer.

The problem with this in the context of 2020’s Emma Woodhouse is that Frank hardly gets a look-in in this adaptation. Emma’s relationship with him is severely underdeveloped and the actors don’t have enough chemistry to pull it off in the limited time they’re given. The result is that Emma appears to cross a line just to cross it, and it pushes Emma’s character from thoughtless to out-and-out frigid.

Still better than Doran Godwin, since she's identifiably human.

Rating: 2 1/2 / 5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 3: 1996 (MIRAMAX)

Portrayed by: Gwyneth Paltrow

Age at time of filming: 24

Despite the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow was an appalling casing choice for Emma Woodhouse (I will be forever salty that they passed over Joely Richardson), and I know there are some who will think me, at best, crazy (sacrilegious, at worst) for ranking 1996’s interpretation of Emma higher than 2020, I actually feel that solidly in the middle is right where this version of the character belongs.

There’s so much wrong with this Emma: she swings from mature to bizarrely infantile at the drop of a hat, much of her script is genuinely tragic, Gwyneth can’t convincingly portray Emma's social naiveté, her accent is overwhelmingly nasal and impossible to listen to, just for starters.

And yet… I don’t hate her. I don’t like her particularly either, but even though much of the dialogue re-working butchered Austen’s prose, there are a lot of things McGrath seems to have gotten right about Emma’s character. Her relationship with Knightley feels comfortable and playful, and, while Emma of the book probably doesn’t really care for Harriet Smith in the spirit of true bosom friendship, I believe she does care about her and wishes to spare her (further) pain. She shows exasperation with Harriet while still being patient with her, which is very much in the spirit of the book. Her concern for Harriet at the ball feels real, and her contrition at Box Hill following Knightley’s rebuke, while not profound, at least feels like contrition and not self-pity.

Perhaps, given the soft-take that the Miramax version is, it shouldn’t be surprising that the biggest faults in characterization rest on awkward writing and the biggest triumphs highlight Emma’s better side. It’s not a very in-depth take on the character, but it at least, is an adequate one.

Rating: 3/5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 2: 1996/97 (ITV)

Portrayed by: Kate Beckinsale

Age at time of filming: 23

Those who’ve read my reviews of each adaptation of Emma might be surprised to see ITV’s portrayal of the title character sitting so high on my list. To be frank, it’s a distant second, and she may have stolen the number two spot only because she’s played by Kate Beckinsale and not Gwyneth Paltrow.

In truth, I see a lot of parallels between 1997’s Emma and 2020’s. Both actresses were 23 (or thereabouts) when they played the role, both have extremely childish moments, and both crumple down and burst into tears that don’t feel entirely genuine after Box Hill.

So why is 1997 on the good side of the number 3 spot and 2020 isn’t? I’m not precisely sure. I think it may be because Andrew Davies (and/or Diarmuid Lawrence) at least understood the scale of Emma Woodhouse’s wealth and status. This Emma feels sufficiently self-important, a bit haughty, sure—but she’s also believably naïve. You feel her isolation, you understand her caring relationship with her father, and she’s not as patently rude to Robert Martin compared to the 2020 version (she at least acknowledges his presence when he meets Emma and Harriet in the lane).

Grudging though this favorable placement may be, I can at least acknowledge that Emma herself is the least of my problems with this version, and even though Beckinsale’s acting is a bit sketchy at certain points, she also has some truly great moments, especially her interaction with Robert Martin at the end of the film. This portrayal is consistent, and Emma’s better qualities aren’t overpowered by her negative ones.

Rating: 4/5 Half-finished portraits

Number 1: 2009

Portrayed by: Romola Garai

Age at time of filming: 26

And in a shocking twist—I’m kidding this is neither shocking nor unexpected to anyone who knows me or has read my blog/reviews of the Emma adaptations. Am I totally biased? Probably. I don’t care, this is a completely subjective list. Here, finally—my first and true love as Emma Woodhouse—is Romola Garai. I suppose it’s also not surprising that the first actress I ever saw in the role would still be my favorite a decade on. I just love everything about this interpretation of the character. She rides the very difficult line of being bright, caring and intelligent, while also being completely naïve and lacking in social savvy (in her own age-group at least), coddled, and painfully sure of her own self-importance.

Even though Garai was 25 or 26 at the time (far too old for the character—almost as old as Doran Godwin) her energy and charisma are enough that she’s able to carry it off convincingly. Everything about this Emma screams youth, and when Emma’s child-like social ignorance is her most prominent characteristic, it feels authentic and natural. Equally authentic are her emotions—her love for her family, her dynamic with Knightley, he exasperation, patience, and concern with Harriet. Most of all though, this Emma seems to experience the most maturation in the last quarter of the story. Box Hill really feels like a turning point—not just a chastened young woman, but a true coming-of-age moment. Emma faces a reckoning here that begins a chain reaction culminating in her realization of her feelings for Knightley, and everything from the writing to Garai’s performance conveys the magnitude of this shift in Emma’s life.

This version of the character seems the most… complete to me. Somehow, between Romola Garai’s vibrancy, Sandy Welch’s screenplay and Jim O’Hanlon’s direction, this interpretation takes an extremely divisive character and helps the viewer understand just why everyone in Highbury loves Emma Woodhouse.

Rating: 5/5 Half-finished portraits

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If you liked this, check out my rankings of Mr. and Mrs. Weston

#emma woodhouse #jane austen emma #jane austen #period drama #emma 2020 #emma 2009 #emma 1996 #emma 1972 #romola garai #kate beckinsale #anya taylor joy #gwyneth paltrow

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monotonous-minutia · 3 years ago

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Brief history of Les contes d’Hoffmann edits (the short short version) + Summaries!

Kudos to anyone who gets through all of this, but I recommend at least reading the first part if you plan on watching this opera next week for Operablr Pride Month. It will help you find/choose a version to watch!

For the differences in the summaries to make sense, we need a little background info.

The very very very short version of why there are so many edits:

Offenbach died before he could finish the score. Most of the prologue, Olympia, and Antonia acts were done; the Giulietta act and the Epilogue were not, which is why those are the parts that vary the most across the different edits. Additionally, much of the material that varies belongs to Nicklausse/the Muse. The reason for this is that the mezzo in this role cancelled last minute, and the replacement didn’t have time to learn the entire role before the performance, so the Muse monologues, Violin Aria, and much of Nicklausse’s dialogue were cut; the ending monologue was replaced with spoken speech. Since the premiere—which is another story for another time—several conductors, directors, and music scholars have attempted to reconstruct the opera based on Offenbach’s drafts and notes, and in some cases their personal preferences. Additional shoutout to good old Guiraud, who finished a lot of the orchestration that Offenbach didn’t get to, which is some of the only stuff to survive most edits.

Also, I should say: apparently in addition to there being no definitive edition of this opera, there’s no definitive history either. I swear every book/article I read about it says something different so this is the best I could do. So if there are any inaccuracies, apologies in advance.

Now there are a lot of people that have tinkered with this opera, but there are a few main ones that compiled what are dubbed “critical editions,” because they did a bunch of research and a lot of people end up using edits based on what they did.

In chronological order, those critical edits are:

Choudens: The shortest version, and one most people are familiar with.

Oeser (1): Longer with a lot of missing material added, also fairly well-known.

Oeser (2): Even longer with a ton of new stuff added! (My personal fave but pretty rare)

Kaye/Keck: Uses some of the material rediscovered by Oeser, but also adds a ton of other stuff, particularly in the Giulietta act, as well as re-orchestrating significant portions. Not many of these either.

and apparently there’s another one called “OG Offenbach” or something like that but as far as I can tell there haven’t been any recordings of it or much about what it looks like, but from what I gather it’s fairly similar to that last one, with some adjustments based on yet more new-old material discovered.

And, of course, every single production I’ve ever seen/heard puts its own spin on things! So while most have the general formats as seen below, literally no two are exactly alike.

A bit more detail on the versions:

Choudens

This is one of the first people to edit the material after it was butchered for the world premiere. It’s the short version of the opera with the most material missing, though to be fair he did improve upon what it had been before. His is (unfortunately) the edit most people are familiar with:

Prologue: Chorus of Spirits of wine and beer. Lindorf monologues about stealing Stella from Hoffmann. Students party in the tavern and ask Hoffmann to tell a stoy; he sings the famous "Ballad of Klein-Zach." When taunted by Lindorf about his love life, Hoffmann decides to tell everyone the tales of his Three Great Loves. Act I: Olympia. Hoffmann is in love with the “daughter” of Spalanzani, his science professor, unaware that she is a robot. Coppélius sells Hoffmann magic glasses that make him believe Olympia is a real human, despite Nicklausse's insistence that she is a mechanical doll. Olympia is presented to the guests at her coming-out party; they marvel over her. Hoffmann serenades her and dances with her, but Coppélius arrives to take her apart, and Hoffmann realizes he’s been in love with a robot the whole time. Act II: Giulietta. Choudens put the Giluietta act second instead of Antonia. At a party, Nicklausse and Giulietta sing the famous Barcarolle; Hoffmann counters with an aria about how love is futile. Nicklausse tries to warn Hoffmann to be careful of Giulietta's lover, Schlémil, but Hoffmann of course does not listen. Dapertutto arrives and makes a deal with Giulietta to trick Hoffmann. Giulietta seduces Hoffmann and steals his reflection. When Hoffmann realizes his reflection is gone, we get the famous Septet (the only thing I’m grateful to Choudens for). Afterwards, Hoffmann kills Schlémil to get the key to Giulietta’s room, but Giulietta leaves with Pitichinaccio instead. Act III: Antonia. The singer Antonia is sick and it’s her singing that is killing her. Hoffmann, who’s been looking for her for months after Antonia and her father moved specifically so he couldn’t find them, has finally found her. They promise to run away and get married, but before they can, Dr. Miracle forces Antonia to sing until she literally dies. Epilogue: Hoffmann has finished his stories. Nicklausse makes the connection that all three ladies are actually metaphors for the real-life Stella. Hoffmann yells at him. Stella walks in on a drunk Hoffmann who mistakes her for his lovers; she leaves in a huff with Lindorf. Nicklausse reveals his identity as the Muse (in spoken dialogue) and asks for Hoffmann’s devotion. Hoffmann gets a reprise of his Giulietta act aria, but this time committing himself to the Muse and his art.

Oeser (1)

This one, which is also very common, isn’t Oeser’s *actual* edit but combines his with the Choudens one, so it has a lot more material than the previous one, but not as much as the longer Oeser version.

Prologue: Very similar to Choudens except we get the Muse’s opening monologue explaining their motivations (winning Hoffmann and saving him from Stella) before the rest of the action. Act I: Olympia. Pretty much the same but sometimes Nicklausse gets a different aria. Act II: Antonia (which here comes before Giulietta). Almost exactly the same as Choudens’, but Nicklausse gets to sing a lovely aria about love and art which is really a love song for Hoffmann. Act III: Giulietta. Pretty much the same, except it’s the third act instead of the second act. Epilogue: Starts pretty much the same, until the Hoffmann/Stella confrontation which is now put to music. Then we get a reprise of Klein-Zach followed by the drinking chorus, after which the Muse reappears. The opera ends with the Muse’s closing monologue and chorus about how Hoffmann’s suffering will make him a greater artist.

Oeser (2)

Pretty similar to the short Oeser version described above. The most dramatic changes are really just in the Giulietta act, though there’s some extra material in Olympia too (that one waltzy duet I’m always gushing about) and sometimes more sung material for the Muse in the epilogue as well. Oeser’s longer Giluietta act: Has the same basic plot points, except instead of going right from Dapertutto making the deal with Giulietta to Giulietta seducing Hoffmann, we get a gambling scene where Giulietta serenades the guests as they play cards, during which each of the characters gets a little moment. Then Giulietta leaves and Hoffmann follows her, and she sings sadly about her dismal situation which leads into her seduction of Hoffmann, and the rest of the act ends pretty much the same, except sometimes there’s no Septet.

Now, on to possibly the wildest of them all:

Kaye/Kecke

This one is rare; there’s only a few recordings that even attempt it, and very few get it to the letter of what these two scholars compiled. Once again, most of the changes are in the Giulietta act and Epilogue; the only real changes in the previous acts are in the orchestration of some parts. Kaye Giulietta Act: Starts pretty much the same, with the Barcarolle and Hoffmann’s derisive aria, and Dapertutto making the deal with Giulietta. We get a gambling scene here too, but it’s not as long or dramatic and Giulietta gets a different aria. Hoffmann kills Schlémil for the same reasons, but it happens before Giulietta steals his reflection; essentially she’s bribing him before she pretends to fall in love with him. Hoffmann gets in trouble for killing Schlémil, and in a fit of rage tries to kill Giulietta, but kills Pitichinaccio instead. Kaye Epilogue: It starts with a chorus for the students kinda trying to talk Hoffmann down from his crazy stories. We get the same Nicklausse-Hoffmann confrontation, and the one with Stella, and a reprise of Klein-Zach, but in addition to the drinking chorus repeating we get a kind of ominous reprise of the “Glou! Glou!” chorus from the prologue, after which the Muse enters and we get the same ending monologue but it’s got some extra pieces.

So the short short version ended up pretty long huh? Anyway, I hope it's helpful!

If you want more detailed summaries to follow along with when you watch the opera, see below!

More detailed summaries!

Choudens

Choudens is one of the the first critical edits of the opera and, despite the fact that it’s been discredited multiple times, is still inexplicably used a lot and is what a lot of people think of when they think of this opera.

Prologue We open in Luther's Tavern. A chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer sing out. The Councilor Lindorf comes in and bribes Andrès, a tavern employee, into giving him a letter from Stella, an actress, that’s addressed to Hoffmann. Lindorf reads the letter, in which Stella has included the key to her room and invites Hoffmann to join her after her performance that evening. Lindorf keeps the letter and key for himself. A group of students arrive in the tavern and sing a rousing drinking chorus. After a bit they notice Hoffmann isn’t there yet and demand to know where he is. Luther, the tavern's owner, tells them Hoffmann is on his way, along with his friend Nicklausse. The pair enter and take a seat. Hoffmann is melancholy and brooding, which prompts the students to ask him for a jovial song to lighten the mood. Hoffmann then sings the famous “Ballad of Klein-Zach.” But in the middle of the song, he gets distracted by memories of Stella. The students bring him back to reality and he finishes the song, but the talk of love brings it up as a topic of conversation. Hoffmann declares “The devil take me if I were ever to fall in love!” At this point Lindorf makes his presence known, sneering at Hoffmann. The two of them then get into a battle of words, during which Hoffmann inadvertently admits that he is, in fact, in love with someone. Curious, the students ask him for the story of his love. Hoffmann declares that he has had not one but three mistresses: an artist, a young girl, and a courtesan. He then begins to tell his tales. Act I: Olympia. Hoffmann goes to visit his science professor, Spalanzani, to declare his devotion to science. Spalanzani commends him, then leaves to prepare for his “daughter” Olympia’s coming-out party. Hoffmann admits his love for Olympia and gazes at her through a window. Nicklausse arrives and gently teases him about his love, singing a song about a mechanical doll and bird. Hoffmann brushes him off. Coppélius, an eccentric saleman, enters and displays his various wares, including a variety of contraptions but primarily eyes. He manages to get Hoffmann interested in a pair of magical glasses, which Hoffmann then purchases and wears for the remainder of the act. Spalanzani returns and gets into an argument with Coppélius about Olympia; Coppélius wants a share since she has his eyes. Spalanzani decides to pay Coppélius with a check that he mentions in an aside he knows will bounce. Coppélius tells Spalanzani that he should get Hoffmann to marry Olympia as a joke. Spalanzani agrees, and Coppélius leaves. Cochenille, Spalazani's assistant, announces the arrival of the guests. A chorus of people arrive, admiring Spalanzani’s skills as a host. Spalanzani introduces Olympia to the guests, who marvel over her perfection. Olympia sings a charming songs about birds and love. Hoffmann's new glasses make him see Olympia as a real person rather than the robot she actually is, and he is captivated. After Olympia’s song, the guests leave to go to dinner, but Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to stay behind with Olympia. Hoffmann professes his love for Olympia, who responds only with “Yes” when Hoffmann touches her shoulder (he doesn’t know he’s actually triggering a button that makes her say that word). When he goes to embrace her, Olympia runs off. Nicklausse returns, telling Hoffmann to be wary, because everything is not as it seems; Hoffmann brushes him off yet again. They leave to join the other guests. Coppélius enters, furious with Spalanzani for giving him a faulty check. He swears revenge and runs off. The guests return for dancing. Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to dance with Olympia. During the dance, Olympia goes haywire and rushes offstage, pursued by Cochenille. In the process, Hoffmann’s glasses are broken. Cochenille rushes back onstage, crying out that Coppélius has Olympia; Spalanzani rushes to her aid, only to find Coppélius with the robot in pieces. They return holding parts of the broken doll, and Hoffmann, his magical glasses now broken, finally sees Olympia for what she truly is and is

humiliated. Act II: Giulietta (Choudens is the only edit that has Giulietta second instead of third) Venice. The courtesan Giulietta is having a party of sorts. She and Nicklausse sing the famous Barcarolle. Afterwards Hoffmann mocks them with a song of his own condemning love and romance. Schlémil, who is in love with Giulietta, enters and makes it clear he is suspicious of Hoffmann when Giulietta introduces him. Giulietta then leads her guests out to play cards. Hoffmann is about to follow when Nicklausse takes him aside, warning him against Giulietta and asking him to leave. Hoffmann says there’s no way he could fall for someone like Giulietta, and if he does, may the devil take him! (He really needs to stop saying that.) After Hoffmann and Nicklausse leave to play cards with the others, the Captain Dapertutto comes in, announcing he plans to thwart Hoffmann with the help of Giulietta. He attracts the courtesan with a diamond (and a deceptively pretty aria) and tells her she needs to steal Hoffmann’s reflection for him. Giulietta agrees to do so in exchange for the diamond. Hoffmann returns and Dapertutto leaves. Giulietta seduces Hoffmann, who serenades her with a fairly famous aria that gets reprised later for a different reason (keep an eye out for that). Knowing she has him on the hook, Giulietta demands his fidelity—and his reflection. Helpless against her charms, Hoffmann agrees to both. Schlémil, Dapertutto, and Nicklausse return. Giulietta tells Hoffmann that Schlémil has the key to her room, and if Hoffmann can retrieve it, she’ll meet him there later. Dapertutto taunts Hoffmann, who looks in a mirror to find that his reflection is gone. Nicklausse begs him to leave but Hoffmann refuses, still clinging to the hope that Giulietta actually loves him. However she only mocks him, and he despairs, starting everyone off in the famous Septet (or "Sextet and Chorus"). Giulietta leads everyone back to the party, except Schlémil, who challenges Hoffmann to a duel. Hoffmann kills Schlémil and takes the key. He rushes to find Giulietta, only to see her riding off in a gondola with her real lover Piticchinaccio, both of whom are laughing at his expense. Nicklausse tells Hoffmann the police are coming to look for Schlémil’s murderer, and finally drags him away. Act III: Antonia Crespel’s house. Antonia laments the death of her mother and her separation from her lover, Hoffmann. Her father, Crespel, enters and reminds her not to sing, lest she die from it like her mother did. Antonia promises him she won’t sing anymore and leaves sadly. Crespel asks his servant Frantz to watch the door and make sure no one comes in. Frantz, who is partially deaf, only half-understands him. Crespel expresses frustration at this and leaves. Frantz remarks in a fun little number that if only he had some talents—like singing or dancing—maybe his boss would appreciate him more. Hoffmann enters with Nicklausse; they have been travelling for weeks looking for Antonia after she moved away without a word. Hoffmann asks Frantz to find Antonia for him. When the servant leaves to do so, Hoffmann begins to sing a song that he and Antonia wrote. Antonia hears him and rushes to meet him; Nicklausse exits quietly. Hoffmann and Antonia rejoice over their reunion and pledge to get married. Hoffmann expresses concern over Antonia’s insistence to sing despite her ill health. Antonia convinces him to sing their song together, which they do. Afterwards Antonia becomes tired. Before Hoffmann can react, they hear Crespel coming. Antonia flees, but Hoffmann remains, hiding so he can eavesdrop on Crespel. Frantz returns and tells Crespel that Dr. Miracle is here, having misunderstood Crespel’s command to not let anyone in. Dr. Miracle enters, asking to see Antonia. Crespel refuses and tells him to leave, saying that his faulty medicine is what killed Antonia's mother. Dr. Miracle, however, remains, and pantomimes an interaction with Antonia where he checks her pulse and orders her to sing. Offstage, Antonia responds with a scale. Dr. Miracle tells Crespel that

Antonia is dangerously ill, and gives him

two vials of medicine that he says will cure her. Crespel refuses them, calling the doctor a murderer and chasing him out. Hoffmann comes out of hiding, stunned by this encounter. Antonia returns and asks Hoffmann what her father said, thinking that he and Hoffmann had been talking this entire time. Hoffmann, disturbed by what he’s seen and heard, makes Antonia promise not to sing. She agrees, but when Hoffmann leaves (promising to return for her later) she laments that Hoffmann is now on her father’s side about her singing. Dr. Miracle returns as a disembodied voice, taunting Antonia. Why should she give up singing just because her father and Hoffmann tell her to? Doesn’t she want to be a great singer like her mother? When Antonia rebuffs him, Dr. Miracle calls on the spirit of Antonia’s dead mother, who leads Antonia in a frantic refrain. Antonia, exhausted by the singing, collapses. Crespel rushes in to see his daughter dying on the floor. She tells him she sees her mother, then sings a part of her and Hoffmann’s song, before dying in her father’s arms. Hoffmann rushes in just in time to see Dr. Miracle pronounce Antonia dead. Epilogue Back at the tavern, Hoffmann finishes his tales. Offstage, cheers and applause are heard for Stella as her performance comes to an end. Nicklausse announces a revelation—all of Hoffmann’s lovers in his stories are just manifestations of his real love for a single woman, Stella. Furious, Hoffmann shouts Nicklausse down, then deliriously leads a reprise of the drinking chorus. Stella enters looking for Hoffmann, only to find him dead drunk. He mistakes her for his three fictional loves, then rejects her. Offended, Stella leaves with Lindorf. The students all leave and Hoffmann is alone with Nicklausse, who reveals himself to be the Muse of Poetry. The Muse declares her devotion to Hoffmann and asks for his in return. Hoffmann, hearing this, repeats his song from the Giulietta act, this time declaring his love for the Muse and promising to return to his art.

Oeser (1)

The short Oeser version is the other Most Commonly Seen edit (I think it’s about a tie). It's similar to the Choudens edit in many ways, with some significant additions, which are in blue below: Prologue We open in Luther's Tavern. A chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer sing out. The Muse emerges from a barrel, declaring her love for Hoffmann and determination to rid him of Stella, the “siren” who has stolen his attention (and affection). She tells the audience that she will disguise herself as Nicklausse, Hoffmann’s friend, in order to try one last time to win him tonight. The Councilor Lindorf comes in and bribes Andrès, a tavern employee, into giving him a letter from Stella, an actress, that’s addressed to Hoffmann. Lindorf reads the letter, in which Stella has included the key to her room and invites Hoffmann to join her after her performance that evening. Lindorf keeps the letter and key for himself. A group of students arrive in the tavern and sing a rousing drinking chorus. After a bit they notice Hoffmann isn’t there yet and demand to know where he is. Luther, the tavern's owner, tells them Hoffmann is on his way, along with Nicklausse. The pair enter and take a seat. Hoffmann is melancholy and brooding, which prompts the students to ask him for a jovial song to lighten the mood. Hoffmann then sings the famous “Ballad of Klein-Zach.” But in the middle of the song, he gets distracted by memories of Stella. The students bring him back to reality and he finishes the sing, but the talk of love brings it up as a topic of conversation. Hoffmann declares “The devil take me if I were ever to fall in love!” At this point Lindorf makes his presence known, sneering at Hoffmann. The two of them then get into a battle of words, during which Hoffmann inadvertently admits that he is, in fact, in love with someone. Curious, the students ask him for the story of his love. Hoffmann declares that he has had not one but three mistresses: an artist, a young girl, and a courtesan. He then begins to tell his tales. Act I: Olympia Hoffmann goes to visit his science professor, Spalanzani, to declare his devotion to science. Spalanzani commends him, then leaves to prepare for his “daughter” Olympia’s coming-out party. Hoffmann admits his love for Olympia and gazes at her through a window. Nicklausse arrives and gently teases him about his love, singing a song about a mechanical doll and bird (sometimes it’s changed to a more mocking song specifically referencing Olympia). Hoffmann brushes him off. Coppélius, an eccentric salesman, enters and attempts to sell Hoffmann and Nicklausse a variety or contraptions; Hoffmann and Nicklausse bicker over whether or not to engage with the salesman. Coppélius manages to get Hoffmann interested in a pair of magical glasses, which Hoffmann then purchases and wears for the remainder of the act. Spalanzani returns and gets into an argument with Coppélius about Olympia; Coppélius wants a share since she has his eyes. Spalanzani decides to pay Coppélius with a check that he mentions in an aside he knows will bounce. Coppélius tells Spalanzani that he should get Hoffmann to marry Olympia as a joke. Spalanzani agrees, and Coppélius leaves. Cochenille, Spalanzani's assistant, announces the arrival of the guests. A chorus of people arrive, admiring Spalanzani’s skills as a host. Spalanzani introduces Olympia to the guests, who marvel over her perfection. Olympia sings a charming songs about birds and love. Hoffmann's new glasses make him see Olympia as a real person rather than the robot she actually is, and he is captivated. After Olympia’s song, the guests leave to go to dinner, but Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to stay behind with Olympia. Hoffmann professes his love for Olympia, who responds only with “Yes” when Hoffmann touches her shoulder (he doesn’t know he’s actually triggering a button that makes her say that word). When he goes to embrace her, Olympia runs off. Nicklausse returns, telling Hoffmann to be wary, because everything is not as it seems; Hoffmann brushes him off yet again. They leave to

join the other guests. Coppélius enters, furious with Spalanzani for giving him a faulty check. He swears revenge and runs off. The guests return for dancing. Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to dance with Olympia. During the dance, Olympia goes haywire and rushes offstage, pursued by Cochenille. In the process, Hoffmann’s glasses are broken. Cochenille rushes back onstage, crying out that Coppélius has Olympia; Spalanzani rushes to her aid, only to find Coppélius with the robot in pieces. They return holding parts of the broken doll, and Hoffmann, his magical glasses now broken, finally sees Olympia for who she truly is and is humiliated. Act II: Antonia (When Oeser made his edit, he rearranged the acts to their original order, placing Antonia before Giulietta.) Crespel’s house. Antonia laments the death of her mother and her separation from her lover, Hoffmann. Her father, Crespel, enters and reminds her not to sing, lest she die from it like her mother did. Antonia promises him she won’t sing anymore and leaves sadly. Crespel asks his servant Frantz to watch the door and make sure no one comes in. Frantz, who is partially deaf, only half-understands him. Crespel expresses frustration at this and leaves. Frantz remarks in a fun little number that if only he had some talents—like singing or dancing—maybe his boss would appreciate him more. Hoffmann enters with Nicklausse; they have been travelling for weeks looking for Antonia after she moved away without a word. Hoffmann asks Frantz to go find Antonia for him. While Hoffmann expresses his joy over being reunited with Antonia, Nicklausse tries to temper his excitement with a reality check, which Hoffmann brushes off (he does this a lot). Nicklausse then sings a lovely song about the power of art and love (which is really a love song for Hoffmann), but once again Hoffmann ignores him. Hoffmann begins to sing a song that he and Antonia wrote. Antonia hears him and rushes to meet him; Nicklausse exits quietly. Hoffmann and Antonia rejoice over their reunion and pledge to get married. Hoffmann expresses concern over Antonia’s insistence to sing despite her ill health. Antonia convinces him to sing their song together, which they do. Afterwards Antonia becomes tired. Before Hoffmann can react, they hear Crespel coming. Antonia flees, but Hoffmann remains, hiding so he can eavesdrop on Crespel. Frantz returns and tells Crespel that Dr. Miracle is here, having misunderstood Crespel’s command to not let anyone in. Dr. Miracle enters, asking to see Antonia. Crespel refuses and tells him to leave, saying that his faulty medicine is what killed Antonia's mother. Dr. Miracle, however, remains, and pantomimes an interaction with Antonia where he checks her pulse and orders her to sing. Offstage, Antonia responds with a scale. Dr. Miracle tells Crespel that Antonia is dangerously ill, and gives him two vials of medicine that he says will cure her. Crespel refuses them, calling the doctor a murderer and chasing him out. Hoffmann comes out of hiding, stunned by this encounter. Antonia returns and asks Hoffmann what her father said, thinking that he and Hoffmann had been talking this entire time. Hoffmann, disturbed by what he’s seen and heard, makes Antonia promise not to sing. She agrees, but when Hoffmann leaves (promising to return for her later) she laments that Hoffmann is now on her father’s side about her singing. Dr. Miracle returns as a disembodied voice, taunting Antonia. Why should she give up singing just because her father and Hoffmann tell her to? Doesn’t she want to be a great singer like her mother? When Antonia rebuffs him, Dr. Miracle calls on the spirit of Antonia’s dead mother, who leads Antonia in a frantic refrain. Antonia, exhausted by the singing, collapses. Crespel rushes in to see his daughter dying on the floor. She tells him she sees her mother, then sings a part of her and Hoffmann’s song, before dying in her father’s arms. Hoffmann rushes in just in time to see Dr. Miracle pronounce Antonia dead. Act III: Giulietta Venice. The courtesan Giulietta is having a

party of sorts. She and Nicklausse sing the famous Barcarolle. Afterwards Hoffmann mocks them with a song of his own condemning love and romance. Schlémil, who is in love with Giulietta, enters and makes it clear he is suspicious of Hoffmann when Giulietta introduces him. Giulietta then leads her guests out to play cards. Hoffmann is about to follow when Nicklausse takes him aside, warning him against Giulietta and asking him to leave. Hoffmann says there’s no way he could fall for someone like Giulietta, and if he does, may the devil take him! (He really needs to stop saying that.) After Hoffmann and Nicklausse leave to play cards with the others, the Captain Dapertutto comes in, announcing he plans to thwart Hoffmann with the help of Giulietta. He attracts the courtesan with a diamond (and a deceptively pretty aria) and tells her she needs to steal Hoffmann’s reflection for him. Giulietta agrees to do so in exchange for the diamond. Hoffmann returns and Dapertutto leaves. Giulietta seduces Hoffmann, who serenades her with a fairly famous aria. Knowing she has him on the hook, Giulietta demands his fidelity—and his reflection. Helpless against her charms, Hoffmann agrees to both. Schlémil, Dapertutto, and Nicklausse return. Giulietta tells Hoffmann that Schlémil has the key to her room, and if Hoffmann can retrieve it, she’ll meet him there later. Dapertutto taunts Hoffmann, who looks in a mirror to find that his reflection is gone. Nicklausse begs him to leave but Hoffmann refuses, still clinging to the hope that Giulietta actually loves him. However she only mocks him, and he despairs, starting everyone off in the famous Septet (or Sextet and Chorus). Giulietta leads everyone back to the party, except Schlémil, who challenges Hoffmann to a duel. Hoffmann kills Schlémil and takes the key. He rushes to find Giulietta, only to see her riding off in a gondola with her real lover Piticchinaccio, both of whom are laughing at his expense. Nicklausse tells Hoffmann the police are coming to look for Schlémil’s murderer, and finally drags him away. Epilogue Back at the tavern, Hoffmann finishes his tales. Offstage, cheers and applause are heard for Stella as her performance comes to an end. Nicklausse announces a revelation—all of Hoffmann’s lovers in his stories are just manifestations of his real love for a single woman, Stella. Furious, Hoffmann shouts Nicklausse down, then deliriously leads a reprise of the drinking chorus. Stella enters looking for Hoffmann. Nicklausse exits, telling Hoffmann it’s time for him to choose. Hoffmann drunkenly mistakes Stella for his three fictional loves, then rejects her. Offended, Stella leaves with Lindorf. Hoffmann begins to sing his Klein-Zach song before falling in despair. The students exit the tavern, singing their song once again and leaving Hoffmann alone. Nicklausse returns and reveals his identity as the Muse, serenading Hoffmann with a comforting refrain: love makes a man great, but tears make him greater still—his suffering is not in vain, but will make him an even greater artist.

Oeser (2)

The long Oeser version (my personal favorite) follows the short one fairly closely; most of the major revisions are in the Giulietta act. This one is pretty rare—I’ve only found one video (which is a terrible production unfortunately) and one audio recording (which is the greatest audio recording of this opera that currently exists). New material in green text:

Prologue We open in Luther's Tavern. A chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer sing out. The Muse emerges from a barrel, declaring her love for Hoffmann and determination to rid him of Stella, the “siren” who has stolen his attention (and affection). She tells the audience that she will disguise herself as Nicklausse, Hoffmann’s friend, in order to try one last time to win him tonight. The Councilor Lindorf comes in and bribes Andrès, a tavern employee, into giving him a letter from Stella, an actress, that’s addressed to Hoffmann. Lindorf reads the letter, in which Stella has included the key to her room and invites Hoffmann to join her after her performance that evening. Lindorf keeps the letter and key for himself. A group of students arrive in the tavern and sing a rousing drinking chorus. After a bit they notice Hoffmann isn’t there yet and demand to know where he is. Luther, the tavern's owner, tells them Hoffmann is on his way, along with Nicklausse. The pair enter and take a seat. Hoffmann is melancholy and brooding, which prompts the students to ask him for a jovial song to lighten the mood. Hoffmann then sings the famous “Ballad of Klein-Zach.” But in the middle of the song, he gets distracted by memories of Stella. The students bring him back to reality and he finishes the sing, but the talk of love brings it up as a topic of conversation. Hoffmann declares “The devil take me if I were ever to fall in love!” At this point Lindorf makes his presence known, sneering at Hoffmann. The two of them then get into a battle of words, during which Hoffmann inadvertently admits that he is, in fact, in love with someone. Curious, the students ask him for the story of his love. Hoffmann declares that he has had not one but three mistresses: an artist, a young girl, and a courtesan. He then begins to tell his tales. Act I: Olympia Hoffmann goes to visit his science professor, Spalanzani, to declare his devotion to science. Spalanzani commends him, then leaves to prepare for his “daughter” Olympia’s coming-out party. Hoffmann admits his love for Olympia and gazes at her through a window. Nicklausse arrives and gently teases him about his love, singing a song about a mechanical doll and bird (sometimes it’s changed to a more mocking song specifically referencing Olympia). Hoffmann brushes him off. Coppélius, an eccentric salesman, enters and attempts to sell Hoffmann and Nicklausse a variety or contraptions; Hoffmann and Nicklausse bicker over whether or not to engage with the salesman. Coppélius manages to get Hoffmann interested in a pair of magical glasses, which Hoffmann then purchases and wears for the remainder of the act. Spalanzani returns and gets into an argument with Coppélius about Olympia; Coppélius wants a share since she has his eyes. Spalanzani decides to pay Coppélius with a check that he mentions in an aside he knows will bounce. Coppélius tells Spalanzani that he should get Hoffmann to marry Olympia as a joke. Spalanzani agrees, and Coppélius leaves. Cochenille, Spalanzani's assistant, announces the arrival of the guests. A chorus of people arrive, admiring Spalanzani’s skills as a host. Spalanzani introduces Olympia to the guests, who marvel over her perfection. Olympia sings a charming songs about birds and love. Hoffmann's new glasses make him see Olympia as a real person rather than the robot she actually is, and he is captivated. After Olympia’s song, the guests leave to go to dinner, but Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to stay behind with Olympia. Hoffmann professes his love for Olympia, who responds only with “Yes” when Hoffmann touches her shoulder (he doesn’t know he’s actually triggering a button that makes her say that word). When he goes to embrace her, Olympia runs off. Nicklausse returns, telling Hoffmann to be wary, because everything is not as it seems; Hoffmann brushes him off yet again. Then we get my beloved little waltzy duet where Nicklausse invites Hoffmann back to the party and Hoffmann denounces cynics who disbelieve the power of love. They leave to join the other guests. Coppélius

enters, furious with Spalanzani for giving him a faulty check. He swears revenge and runs off. The guests return for dancing. Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to dance with Olympia. During the dance, Olympia goes haywire and rushes offstage, pursued by Cochenille. In the process, Hoffmann’s glasses are broken. Cochenille rushes back onstage, crying out that Coppélius has Olympia; Spalanzani rushes to her aid, only to find Coppélius with the robot in pieces. They return holding parts of the broken doll, and Hoffmann, his magical glasses now broken, finally sees Olympia for who she truly is and is humiliated. Act II: Antonia Crespel’s house. Antonia laments the death of her mother and her separation from her lover, Hoffmann. Her father, Crespel, enters and reminds her not to sing, lest she die from it like her mother did. Antonia promises him she won’t sing anymore and leaves sadly. Crespel asks his servant Frantz to watch the door and make sure no one comes in. Frantz, who is partially deaf, only half-understands him. Crespel expresses frustration at this and leaves. Frantz remarks in a fun little number that if only he had some talents—like singing or dancing—maybe his boss would appreciate him more. Hoffmann enters with Nicklausse; they have been travelling for weeks looking for Antonia after she moved away without a word. Hoffmann asks Frantz to go find Antonia for him. While Hoffmann expresses his joy over being reunited with Antonia, Nicklausse tries to temper his excitement with a reality check, which Hoffmann brushes off (he does this a lot). Nicklausse then sings a lovely song about the power of art and love (which is really a love song for Hoffmann), but once again Hoffmann ignores him. Hoffmann begins to sing a song that he and Antonia wrote. Antonia hears him and rushes to meet him; Nicklausse exits quietly. Hoffmann and Antonia rejoice over their reunion and pledge to get married. Hoffmann expresses concern over Antonia’s insistence to sing despite her ill health. Antonia convinces him to sing their song together, which they do. Afterwards Antonia becomes tired. Before Hoffmann can react, they hear Crespel coming. Antonia flees, but Hoffmann remains, hiding so he can eavesdrop on Crespel. Frantz returns and tells Crespel that Dr. Miracle is here, having misunderstood Crespel’s command to not let anyone in. Dr. Miracle enters, asking to see Antonia. Crespel refuses and tells him to leave, saying that his faulty medicine is what killed Antonia's mother. Dr. Miracle, however, remains, and pantomimes an interaction with Antonia where he checks her pulse and orders her to sing. Offstage, Antonia responds with a scale. Dr. Miracle tells Crespel that Antonia is dangerously ill, and gives him two vials of medicine that he says will cure her. Crespel refuses them, calling the doctor a murderer and chasing him out. Hoffmann comes out of hiding, stunned by this encounter. Antonia returns and asks Hoffmann what her father said, thinking that he and Hoffmann had been talking this entire time. Hoffmann, disturbed by what he’s seen and heard, makes Antonia promise not to sing. She agrees, but when Hoffmann leaves (promising to return for her later) she laments that Hoffmann is now on her father’s side about her singing. Dr. Miracle returns as a disembodied voice, taunting Antonia. Why should she give up singing just because her father and Hoffmann tell her to? Doesn’t she want to be a great singer like her mother? When Antonia rebuffs him, Dr. Miracle calls on the spirit of Antonia’s dead mother, who leads Antonia in a frantic refrain. Antonia, exhausted by the singing, collapses. Crespel rushes in to see his daughter dying on the floor. She tells him she sees her mother, then sings a part of her and Hoffmann’s song, before dying in her father’s arms. Hoffmann rushes in just in time to see Dr. Miracle pronounce Antonia dead. Act III: Giulietta Venice. The courtesan Giulietta is having a party of sorts. She and Nicklausse sing the famous Barcarolle. Afterwards Hoffmann mocks them with a song of his own condemning love and romance.

Schlémil, who is in love with Giulietta, enters and makes it clear he is suspicious of Hoffmann when Giulietta introduces him. Giulietta then leads her guests out to play cards. Hoffmann is about to follow when Nicklausse takes him aside, warning him against Giulietta and asking him to leave. Hoffmann says there’s no way he could fall for someone like Giulietta, and if he does, may the devil take him! (He really needs to stop saying that.) As if summoned, the Captain Dapertutto arrives and introduces himself, ominously revealing that he knows who Hoffmann is as well, and in general just acts creepy. Hoffmann and Nicklausse warily leave him behind and go to join the others playing cards. Once they’re gone, Dapertutto announces his plans to thwart Hoffmann with the help of Giulietta. He sings a diablical aria and attracts the courtesan with a diamond, and tells her she needs to steal Hoffmann’s reflection for him. Giulietta agrees to do so in exchange for the diamond. She and Dapertutto join the card players. Hoffmann is losing miserably, much to Nicklausse’s chagrin. Giulietta serenades the guests with a song about love, not-so-subtly aimed at Hoffmann. We get a pretty epic chorus as the game goes on. [Sometimes we also get and aria from Schlémil about having lost his shadow.] Giulietta leaves and Hoffmann follows her, giving Nicklausse his cards and asking him to finish the game for him. Nicklausse protests and tries to follow Hoffmann, but Dapertutto holds him back. Hoffmann joins Giulietta in her room. Giulietta despairs over her feeling of being trapped and suffering. Nicklausse comes in and tells Hoffmann to get ready to leave and that he’s coming back for him. He leaves, and Giulietta tells Hoffmann he should as well, but he refuses to leave her. Giulietta tells him to steal the key from Schlémil that he uses to lock her up at night, saying if he does so, she will devote herself to him. Hoffmann agrees to do so and sings his aria. Knowing she has him on the hook, Giulietta demands his fidelity—and his reflection. Helpless against her charms, Hoffmann agrees to both. Schlémil, Dapertutto, and Nicklausse return. Dapertutto taunts Hoffmann, who looks in a mirror to find that his reflection is gone. Nicklausse begs him to leave but Hoffmann refuses, still clinging to the hope that Giulietta actually loves him. However she only mocks him, and he despairs, starting everyone off in the famous Septet (or Sextet and Chorus) [sometimes the Septet is left out in longer Oeser edits]. Giulietta leads everyone back to the party, except Schlémil, who challenges Hoffmann to a duel. Hoffmann kills Schlémil and takes the key. He rushes to find Giulietta, only to see her riding off in a gondola with her real lover, Piticchinaccio, both of whom are laughing at his expense. Nicklausse tells Hoffmann the police are coming to look for Schlémil’s murderer, and finally drags him away. Epilogue Back at the tavern, Hoffmann finishes his tales. Offstage, cheers and applause are heard for Stella as her performance comes to an end. Nicklausse announces a revelation—all of Hoffmann’s lovers in his stories are just manifestations of his real love for a single woman, Stella. Furious, Hoffmann shouts Nicklausse down, then deliriously leads a reprise of the drinking chorus. Stella enters looking for Hoffmann. Nicklausse exits, telling Hoffmann it’s time for him to choose. Hoffmann drunkenly mistakes Stella for his three fictional loves, then rejects her. Offended, Stella leaves with Lindorf. Hoffmann begins to sing his Klein-Zach song before falling in despair. The students exit the tavern, singing their song once again and leaving Hoffmann alone. Nicklausse returns and reveals his identity as the Muse. She declares her love and devotion for Hoffmann and asks for his in return. She calls upon the Spirits of Wine and Beer, who she says have aided her in her efforts; they repeat their chorus and disperse. The Muse serenades Hoffmann with a comforting refrain: love makes a man great, but tears make him greater still—his suffering is not in vain, but

will make him an even greater

artist.

Kaye/Kecke

the Kaye/Kecke version is the most recent critical edition and hailed by many as the most definitive (aside from that “OG Offenbach” one I can’t find anything about). There are actually very few “true” Kaye productions out there, but a few that attempt it. A lot of the changes are just in the orchestration and, in the spoken-dialogue version, a lot of dialogue; the vast majority of the plot and action stay the same. The big differences are in the Giulietta act. Again, I’ll use some new-color text (orange) to indicate differences between this and previous editions.

Prologue We open in Luther's Tavern. A chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer sing out. The Muse emerges from a barrel, declaring her love for Hoffmann and determination to rid him of Stella, the “siren” who has stolen his attention (and affection). She tells the audience that she will disguise herself as Nicklausse, Hoffmann’s friend, in order to try one last time to win him tonight. The Councilor Lindorf comes in and bribes Andrès, a tavern employee, into giving him a letter from Stella, an actress, that’s addressed to Hoffmann. Lindorf reads the letter, in which Stella has included the key to her room and invites Hoffmann to join her after her performance that evening. Lindorf keeps the letter and key for himself. A group of students arrive in the tavern and sing a rousing drinking chorus. After a bit they notice Hoffmann isn’t there yet and demand to know where he is. Luther, the tavern's owner tells them Hoffmann is on his way, along with Nicklausse. The pair enter and take a seat. Hoffmann is melancholy and brooding, which prompts the students to ask him for a jovial song to lighten the mood. Hoffmann then sings the famous “Ballad of Klein-Zach.” But in the middle of the song, he gets distracted by memories of Stella. The students bring him back to reality and he finishes the sing, but the talk of love brings it up as a topic of conversation. Hoffmann declares “The devil take me if I were ever to fall in love!” At this point Lindorf makes his presence known, sneering at Hoffmann. The two of them then get into a battle of words, during which Hoffmann inadvertently admits that he is, in fact, in love with someone. Curious, the students ask him for the story of his love. Hoffmann declares that he has had not one but three mistresses: an artist, a young girl, and a courtesan. He then begins to tell his tales. Act I: Olympia Hoffmann goes to visit his science professor, Spalanzani, to declare his devotion to science. Spalanzani commends him, then leaves to prepare for his “daughter” Olympia’s coming-out party. Hoffmann admits his love for Olympia and gazes at her through a window. Nicklausse arrives and gently teases him about his love, singing a song about a mechanical doll and bird (sometimes it’s changed to a more mocking song specifically referencing Olympia). (also he sometimes mockingly serenades Olympia before his other aria.) Hoffmann brushes him off. Coppélius, an eccentric salesman, enters and attempts to sell Hoffmann and Nicklausse a variety or contraptions; Hoffmann and Nicklausse bicker over whether or not to engage with the salesman. Coppélius manages to get Hoffmann interested in a pair of magical glasses, which Hoffmann then purchases and wears for the remainder of the act. Spalanzani returns and gets into an argument with Coppélius about Olympia; Coppélius wants a share since she has his eyes. Spalanzani decides to pay Coppélius with a check that he mentions in an aside he knows will bounce. Coppélius tells Spalanzani that he should get Hoffmann to marry Olympia as a joke. Spalanzani agrees, and Coppélius leaves. Cochenille, Spalanzani's assistant, announces the arrival of the guests. A chorus of people arrive, admiring Spalanzani’s skills as a host. Spalanzani introduces Olympia to the guests, who marvel over her perfection. Olympia sings a charming songs about birds and love. Hoffmann's new glasses make him see Olympia as a real person rather than the robot she actually is, and he is captivated. After Olympia’s song, the guests leave to go to dinner, but Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to stay behind with Olympia. Hoffmann professes his love for Olympia, who responds only with “Yes” when Hoffmann touches her shoulder (he doesn’t know he’s actually triggering a button that makes her say that word). When he goes to embrace her, Olympia runs off. Nicklausse returns, telling Hoffmann to be wary, because everything is not as it seems; Hoffmann brushes him off yet again. Then we get my beloved little waltzy duet where Nicklausse invites Hoffmann back to the party and Hoffmann denounces cynics who disbelieve

the power of love. They leave to join the other guests. Coppélius enters, furious with Spalanzani for giving him a faulty check. He swears revenge and runs off. The guests return for dancing. Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to dance with Olympia. During the dance, Olympia goes haywire and rushes offstage, pursued by Cochenille. In the process, Hoffmann’s glasses are broken. Cochenille rushes back onstage, crying out that Coppélius has Olympia; Spalanzani rushes to her aid, only to find Coppélius with the robot in pieces. They return holding parts of the broken doll, and Hoffmann, his magical glasses now broken, finally sees Olympia for who she truly is and is humiliated. Act II: Antonia Crespel’s house. Antonia laments the death of her mother and her separation from her lover, Hoffmann. Her father, Crespel, enters and reminds her not to sing, lest she die from it like her mother did. Antonia promises him she won’t sing anymore and leaves sadly. Crespel asks his servant Frantz to watch the door and make sure no one comes in. Frantz, who is partially deaf, only half-understands him. Crespel expresses frustration at this and leaves. Frantz remarks in a fun little number that if only he had some talents—like singing or dancing—maybe his boss would appreciate him more. Hoffmann enters with Nicklausse; they have been travelling for weeks looking for Antonia after she moved away without a word. Hoffmann asks Frantz to go find Antonia for him. While Hoffmann expresses his joy over being reunited with Antonia, Nicklausse tries to temper his excitement with a reality check, which Hoffmann brushes off (he does this a lot). Nicklausse then sings a lovely song about the power of art and love (which is really a love song for Hoffmann), but once again Hoffmann ignores him. Hoffmann begins to sing a song that he and Antonia wrote. Antonia hears him and rushes to meet him; Nicklausse exits quietly. Hoffmann and Antonia rejoice over their reunion and pledge to get married. Hoffmann expresses concern over Antonia’s insistence to sing despite her ill health. Antonia convinces him to sing their song together, which they do. Afterwards Antonia becomes tired. Before Hoffmann can react, they hear Crespel coming. Antonia flees, but Hoffmann remains, hiding so he can eavesdrop on Crespel. Frantz returns and tells Crespel that Dr. Miracle is here, having misunderstood Crespel’s command to not let anyone in. Dr. Miracle enters, asking to see Antonia. Crespel refuses and tells him to leave, saying that his faulty medicine is what killed Antonia's mother. Dr. Miracle, however, remains, and pantomimes an interaction with Antonia where he checks her pulse and orders her to sing. Offstage, Antonia responds with a scale. Dr. Miracle tells Crespel that Antonia is dangerously ill, and gives him two vials of medicine that he says will cure her. Crespel refuses them, calling the doctor a murderer and chasing him out. Hoffmann comes out of hiding, stunned by this encounter. Antonia returns and asks Hoffmann what her father said, thinking that he and Hoffmann had been talking this entire time. Hoffmann, disturbed by what he’s seen and heard, makes Antonia promise not to sing. She agrees, but when Hoffmann leaves (promising to return for her later) she laments that Hoffmann is now on her father’s side about her singing. Dr. Miracle returns as a disembodied voice, taunting Antonia. Why should she give up singing just because her father and Hoffmann tell her to? Doesn’t she want to be a great singer like her mother? When Antonia rebuffs him, Dr. Miracle calls on the spirit of Antonia’s dead mother, who leads Antonia in a frantic refrain. Antonia, exhausted by the singing, collapses. Crespel rushes in to see his daughter dying on the floor. She tells him she sees her mother, then sings a part of her and Hoffmann’s song, before dying in her father’s arms. Hoffmann rushes in just in time to see Dr. Miracle pronounce Antonia dead. Act III: Giulietta Venice. The courtesan Giulietta is having a party of sorts. She and Nicklausse sing the famous Barcarolle. Afterwards

Hoffmann mocks them with a song of his own condemning love and romance. Schlémil, who is in love with Giulietta, enters and makes it clear he is suspicious of Hoffmann when Giulietta introduces him. Giulietta then leads her guests out to play cards. Hoffmann is about to follow when Nicklausse takes him aside, warning him against Giulietta and asking him to leave. Hoffmann says there’s no way he could fall for someone like Giulietta, and if he does, may the devil take him! (He really needs to stop saying that.) As if summoned, the Captain Dapertutto arrives and introduces himself, ominously revealing that he knows who Hoffmann is as well, and in general just acts creepy. Hoffmann and Nicklausse warily leave him behind and go to join the others playing cards. Once they’re gone, Dapertutto announces his plans to thwart Hoffmann with the help of Giulietta. He sings a diabolical aria and attracts the courtesan with a diamond, and tells her she needs to steal Hoffmann’s reflection for him. Giulietta agrees to do so in exchange for the diamond. (Here’s where the plot deviates, and the Oeser parts from earlier don’t appear at all.) The guests return looking for Giulietta, who sings a song for them as they play cards. Hoffmann gets distracted by Giulietta and gives Nicklausse his cards. Giulietta seduces Hoffmann and convinces him to duel Schlémil to get the key to her bedroom. Hoffmann does and kills Schlémil. Nicklausse finds Hoffmann and, learning about the duel, begs Hoffmann to leave with him. Hoffmann refuses, wanting to see Giulietta. Nicklausse leaves to find a means of transportation. Giulietta returns and continues to seduce Hoffmann, who falls for her completely. She asks for his reflection as a keepsake; he’s helpless to resist her. Dapertutto returns; Giulietta relinquishes Hoffmann to him. Nicklausse returns as well, in time to find Hoffmann has lost his reflection. Once again he begs Hoffmann to leave, but Hoffmann refuses, still insistent that Giulietta loves him. The chorus returns, mocking Hoffmann for being duped. The police arrive to arrest Schlémil’s killer. Furious, Hoffmann attempts to stab Giulietta, but misses and kills Pitichinaccio, who is revealed to be her real lover. Giulietta despairs over his body, and Nicklausse finally manages to drag Hoffmann away. (There is no Septet in Kaye edits.) Epilogue Back at the tavern, the students sing a disbelieving chorus as Hoffmann finishes his tales, telling him to come back to reality. Offstage, cheers and applause are heard for Stella as her performance comes to an end. Nicklausse announces a revelation—all of Hoffmann’s lovers in his stories are just manifestations of his real love for a single woman, Stella. Furious, Hoffmann shouts Nicklausse down. He then encourages everyone (including himself) to get blackout drunk. The chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer from the prologue returns, creepily overlapping with the students’ drinking chorus. Stella enters looking for Hoffmann. Hoffmann drunkenly mistakes Stella for his three fictional loves, then rejects her. Offended, Stella leaves with Lindorf. Hoffmann begins to sing his Klein-Zach song, mockingly dedicating it to Lindorf, before falling in despair. The students exit the tavern, singing their song once again and leaving Hoffmann alone. (Sometimes Stella gets an aria here, basically telling Hoffmann “you don’t know what you’re missing by rejecting me.”) Nicklausse returns and reveals his identity as the Muse. She declares her love and devotion for Hoffmann and asks for his in return. The Muse serenades Hoffmann with a comforting refrain: love makes a man great, but tears make him greater still—his suffering is not in vain, but will make him an even greater artist. (Sometimes the final chorus is extended, with comments from the other characters announcing that the future is his.)

And there you have it!

As mentioned before, there are a ton of variations on all of these. Choudens edits and short Oeser edits are often very similar, but even they will have random chunks cut here and there, sometimes move things around, and of course it’s always a toss-up which aria Niclausse is going to get in Act I and if he’ll get the Violin Aria.

If you got to the end of this, kudos. Seriously. I could barely make it through, and I elected to write the thing.

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ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her · 3 years ago

Text

On Oases

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

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I’ve talked a lot about the importance of safe places, of how important it is for us to be able to be our true selves. I’ve talked about how our families and the Society provide us those spaces, but I haven’t really talked about those spaces themselves yet, or how they operate. I call them oases. Kestrel calls me dramatic. She needs to lighten up {Editing Note: Does that sound funny or mean?}. As ever, though, I’m an anthropologist, and I need my definitions if I’m going to explain things clearly, so oases is what I’m going to keep calling them.

While I’m being scientific, indulge me in some definitions. An oasis is any place run by ghouls that caters to ghoulish needs or wants. I’ll subdivide those further into open oases and closed oases.

{Editing Note: As far as I know, I’m the first person to formally classify this stuff. Am I naming them right? If this book is as successful as I want it to be, these terms are going to be used forever. Should I stick my last name on one of these? Would that be egotistical?}

Whatever you first think of when you hear “safe place” or “ghoul haven” or whatever, you’re probably thinking of a closed oasis. A closed oasis is a place for ghouls and ghouls only. No humans allowed, and usually no ghouls that haven’t been invited either, given our usual security concerns. These places are usually specifically social spaces, like bars or private clubs, places specifically designed for ghouls to unwind without having to keep our true natures hidden. These places are more varied than I’ve probably made them sound, to be clear. Like, I’ve been to an all-ghoul book club meeting before.

We were reading Dracula, in case you were wondering.

The closed oasis that I’m most familiar with is a members-only poker club, at least in name. Obviously I’m not going to name it here, but a lot more goes on there than poker. They keep a bit of flesh on hand, obviously, but it’s not really an eatery. The proprietor, Goji, has done a little of everything to hear him tell it. I know he’s a damn good card shark, and I don’t know if I actually believe that he was in an all-ghoul circus, but he can actually sword-swallow. And he’s a talented tattoo artist, if a little too willing to work on drunk teenagers. Scarlet’s Shakespeare tramp stamp is exceptional, but for some reason he doesn’t like it when we tell him that {Editing Note: That might actually be too much identifying information. I don’t think that’s a common tattoo}. Spatha, on the other hand, really likes showing off the sword he did for her. I kind of wish she’d gotten it in a less intimate spot, what with how eager she is to flash it.

{Editing Note: Clean that paragraph up. The fine line between relatable and rambling keeps eluding me.}

Other than that, Goji’s place has got some nice couches and beanbags, a pretty good tv, and even a few old arcade machines. It’s just a genuinely pleasant place to unwind. It even has a pretty decent bar. Given the rest of his clientele, I don’t think serving drinks to minors counts as much of a moral quandary for him. I do wish he’d cut Scorpio off sooner, though. He’s of age now, but he gets drunk fast, and when he gets drunk he gets weepy.

Goji’s an accepting guy, though, which is mostly a blessing. Being a ghoul doesn’t make us immune to human prejudices, so it’s doubly nice to get a break from the less instantly deadly kinds of othering. We’ve met a lot of interesting people at his place, a lot of ghouls from a lot of backgrounds with a lot of stories to tell and ideas to share. Not that I’m always entirely comfortable with what they have to say. One of the advantages of a closed oasis is that it gives ghouls a place to vent their frustrations with humans, which is important, but some of the venting from the ghouls less integrated into human society, like the Hunters, goes places that I’m not comfortable with. Even if it’s just hot air, I don’t like hearing about how much better things were when “humans were our cattle.” Especially not from people who choose to kill for their food.

{Editing Note: I don’t know if it’s safe to include that here. I want to present an accurate portrait of us, not an idealized one, but I haven’t even talked about Hunters as a group yet. That might be too much, too soon, too bluntly.}

Open oases, on the other hand, are an entirely different beast. Open oases cater to humans as well as ghouls. Obviously the humans don’t know that ghouls are part of the target clientele, and they aren’t places where we can typically be fully ourselves, but they have other advantages. Open restaurants or candy shops or bakeries give us places we can go with our human friends and not have to eat food that makes us sick. Open doctors can check our teeth and claws for problems, and they can check the rest of our bodies too, for that matter - we avoid normal doctors like the plague for reasons that I hope are obvious. I even know of a few open butchers, though I’ve never needed to go to one myself.

I have, however, spent a lot of time at one particular open oasis: my patron’s shop. She runs it as a small indie bookstore with a cute little cafe attached. The cafe will serve you flesh burgers or sandwiches if you know the right signal, which makes it a decent place to meet new ghouls discreetly. I know Yaga uses it to meet other influential ghouls that she considers dangerous, since it’s too public for them to start trouble. Other than that, the shop floor just operates like a normal book store. Yaga’s fond of her collection and she likes talking to customers and making recommendations.

It’s what’s off the sale floor that makes the bookstore special. In addition to the normal storage space, Yaga maintains guest bedrooms, which she lends out to any ghouls that need a place to lay low, or just to sleep. She’s had all sorts back there - lone fugitives, feral children, sometimes whole families waiting on some fake documents to be ready. She’s especially good at getting ghouls off the streets and integrated back into human society. Kestrel was living in one of those guest rooms when I first joined the household.

I met her the summer before I returned to public school - high school, specifically - and my mom and I were still in the early stages of integrating into the household. Yaga offered to watch me while my mom was at work, and she let me hang out in the bookstore and read whatever I wanted while she handled customers. My mom ended up having to work late, though, so Yaga kept me around for dinner, and introduced me to a girl who was staying with her for awhile.

Kestrel’s about two years younger than me, we think, and her growth spurt ended up being more of a growth bump when it finally came, but even then she was tiny. She was also quiet, but I’d always wanted a younger sibling, so I didn’t let that deter me. I asked a lot of frankly insensitive questions. I wouldn’t get real answers to most of them until later, and the ones I did get aren’t really mine to share, but suffice it to say that she was a feral orphan before Yaga took her in. Yaga didn’t think she was ready to interact with the human general public unsupervised yet, but I promised to watch out for her like a really good big sister if she got to come hang out with me the next time I visited.

I didn’t get an answer that night, but when my mom dropped me off again a week later, Yaga went and got her. She didn’t really appreciate me trying to be her big sister, but she did want to be my friend. It was a little awkward at first, but I’ve always been pretty good at getting to know new people, and pretty soon she was joining me and Scarlet and Scorpio on our afternoon outings. Turns out she didn’t need the extra family anyway; Yaga formally adopted her a few years later. She’s still one of my best friends, and quiet or not, I swear she’s better adjusted than Scorpio.

Yaga isn’t the only patron out there using an open oasis as a halfway house. It’s not the most common thing in the world - it takes a certain kind of person and a fair few resources - but I think it might be the most valuable thing the oases do. No one needs a space to learn how to be themselves more than the ghouls who slip through the cracks. Kestrel is taking a gap year before she decides on college, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she takes over the shop once Yaga’s gone. I hope, one day, that I can help people like that too.

{Editing Note: I might just be paranoid, but I think that this draft makes it way too easy to find the bookshop, especially since Yaga’s masque isn’t exactly subtle. There can’t be that many indie bookstores/cafes owned by old Russian women with much younger adopted daughters. I’ll need to do some serious rewrites.}

#my writing #memoirs of a flesh eater #original fiction #not tlt

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tvitr · 3 years ago

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I honestly want to respect Balan Wonderworld for what it is, but I have not had time to sit down and read the whole book? I heard it had some flaws? Would love to hear everything!

Okay so disclaimer: This is all my personal opinion and I am neither a published author nor a professional literature critic, I'm just someone on the internet who got an A in her Creative Writing A-Level so I'm not really qualified to be offering an intimate breakdown 😅 However I can at least outline what I thought worked really well in the book, and what was handled better in the game!

SPOILERS AHEAD

BOOK PROS:

The book contains a lot of much-needed lore regarding Lance and Balan, what the theatre is and where it came from, what Tims and Negati are for, how the Inhabitants became "trapped" in the theatre, and also confirms that the bosses are essentially manifestations of each Inhabitant's problems, which is something I think wasn't very clear in the game.

It has some additional artwork!

Some of the Inhabitant's stories benefit greatly from having them talk about their problems rather than making us interpret what happened, and some of them are outright changed to suit the mood of the story.

However the changes only really benefit Eis' story in my opinion, the rest are either the same or made actively worse.

Or in the case of Iben's, both!

BOOK CONS:

Iben's story is just... so poorly written. I can't quite articulate what's wrong, but her dialogue is so robotic and inhuman, like her dialogue doesn't sound like something an adult human would say. It's hard to explain without straight up showing you what I think doesn't work, so I'll put a link to post where I discuss my issues with it featuring screenshots from the book here.

Sana's character is just. Completely butchered. I don't know what beef the writers of the book had with her character but they make her so damn unlikeable.

Haoyu is just a genderbent recolour of Fiona with a similar backstory and the hots for her to boot. I'm only bothered by this because I liked him in the game because I thought he was funny lol.

I've also decided I prefer Yuri as a lonely nerdy kid obsessed with all kinds of bugs rather than the caterpillar-babysitter the book turns her into.

Lucy is an obnoxious drama queen when her boss form is defeated which is funny but you also wanna tell her to grow the Hell up and face the real world like an adult.

Cass' story is still a mess.

I have more thoughts on the Inhabitant's here. Basically the book makes most of them way too ow-the-edgy for me to enjoy.

Emma is relegated to a background character who complains once about people thinking she's a spoilt rich brat because she lives in a house full of child slaves in maid outfits or some shit and never appears again.

I don't like the new nicknames they give the Inhabitant's, most of them are way too long and unwieldy.

The ending where they all meet up to greet Leo and Emma as they come out the theatre felt way too convenient, like really, all these people just happened to live in the same city this whole time?

I've also heard some people saying the spelling and grammar takes a nose dive towards the end, but I wasn't paying attention to that.

It's only available as an e-book, which is annoying because I'd love a physical copy even though I didn't really like it.

I GUESS I HAVE TO ADDRESS THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM:

No I still don't have a proper stance on Cal's story, though if I'm honest I tend to lean more towards the game because it felt like it revolved around chess a lot more than the book story. The book story obviously has ties to chess too (ie, he was world champion, lost his position, his Elo decreased, he couldn't increase it no matter how much he tried etc), but it also felt like it hinged more on his dead wife than his dead career 😂

If you made it this far, thank you! You're a star 😂

#balan wonderworld #feel free to ask me more lol i love talking about this game

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usergreenpixel · 3 years ago

Text

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 2: The Black Book (1949)

1. Introduction

Welp, here it is, Citizens.

Welcome to the second meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Please, enjoy some snacks and drinks and get comfortable because we’re in for a pretty wild ride.

The review of “The Black Book” is finally here. Initially released under the title “Reign of Terror” in 1949, it acquired its second (and more famous in our community) title during its rereleases, as far as my research could tell me.

Now, before we proceed, allow me to give you some background info on the way I found this movie.

I have seen @frevandrest ‘s posts referring to it. A few other people too, but I simply don’t remember the usernames. Still, I immediately got the impression that it’s a rather infamous movie in our community so I decided to review it simply out of morbid curiosity, just to see what the fuss was about.

I found the entire thing on YouTube so it’s available for anyone curious or masochistic enough to check it out.

Let’s just say that I dropped the movie several times and the reasons for this awful impression are going to be listed below.

2. The Story

The story reeks of propaganda, which is to be expected.

Basically, The Evil Misogynistic Gay Pigeon Boi Not Yet Dictator ™️ Robespierre wants to become, well, the dictator of France.

Problem is, apparently only Barras can appoint him as the dictator and that guy is in hiding, refusing to comply. And to make things worse, the titular book, Robespierre’s personal death list of sorts, has vanished.

Robespierre believes that he cannot control the Convention without the book and summons Duval, the butcher prosecutor from Strasbourg, to locate the death list in 24 hours. Unbeknownst to him, Duval gets replaced by one Charles D’Aubigny, who is eager to stop Robespierre...

Yes, Citizens, they attempted to make a thriller/detective story of sorts, which isn’t a bad idea. If my prompts are any indication, there’s a lot of genres that fit the setting of the French Revolution. In fact, I would love to read a good detective story set in this era.

The keyword here is ‘good’ though, and, unfortunately, this movie simply didn’t cut it for me as a detective story.

(Spoilers ahead!)

In all honesty, it’s actually quite predictable in its execution. Personally, I predicted rather quickly that the book wasn’t actually stolen and it was a distraction move.

The complete lack of logic in the actions of this Robespierre and the ridiculous levels of seriousness also were really painful to watch and kept breaking any potential immersion on my part.

For instance, Robespierre’s method of controlling the Convention is not telling who is and who is not on the list.

Now, in Real Life ™️, this hardly stopped the Thermidorians but apparently that’s not the case in the movie! Nobody even tries to speak up against him or, you know, quietly assassinate him to prevent him from getting all the power, which is hardly realistic if you ask me.

I also feel like this plot line of Charles and Madelon (the female lead) being these bitter exes is boring and really done to death. It’s actually one of my least favorite tropes and I would rather prefer them to simply have a professional relationship (because yes, men and women can have platonic relationships), like old acquaintances who went on a spying mission that one time or something similar.

This romantic subplot was really shoehorned into the story in my opinion and I do believe that it would’ve been more tolerable with only the main plot left in the final script, but oh well.

3. The Characters

Once again, boring is the best adjective I can come up with. Fouché felt less out of character than the others though, which is not a good sign.

Madelon is the femme fatale mixed with damsel in distress and Charles is the stereotypical single detective character. That’s about it. They’re both just walking clichés.

Anyway, since the OCs are kind of archetypical and blander than oatmeal without milk, let’s discuss the historical figures.

Robespierre is once again stereotypical, but I find it funny that his HQ are connected to a bakery and his scene with pigeons near the beginning is surprisingly accurate in the sense of the “he likes pigeons” tidbit. I don’t know if the creators did any research on this but it’s a nice detail nonetheless.

And now let’s talk about Saint-Just in this mess. He is ridiculously and cartoonishly evil, kicks kittens to prove it, giggles and grins like me when I write something funny in my chapters and is incredibly dumb. Also, he sounds and acts like he belongs in a Western, not in this kind of movie.

Fouché is...well, Fouché, believe it or not. Opportunistic, cruel, a backstabber and he turns on Robespierre so he is not as out of character as the others. He also makes a face similar to an owl or that “You don’t say” meme. His almost friendly banter with Charles is pretty entertaining though, I’ll give him that.

4. The Setting

The authors didn’t do their homework here properly. I’m not an expert but most outfits don’t fit that epoch and a lot of names are butchered when they’re pronounced. Danton and Marie-Antoinette in particular suffer from that, but so does SJ.

I know that the Internet was not a thing yet but it baffles me that apparently the creators couldn’t bother to consult native French speakers? Dig up information about the time period in archives? Look at portraits? Read books? You know, the usual parts of ❇️ research ❇️. Apparently, they couldn’t and it really shows.

The backgrounds are better in this department, but nothing particularly impressive here either.

5. The Acting

A+ for effort I guess. Look, guys, people trash actors a lot but I think that here they tried their best with what they had so props for that. The over-the-top acting and the extensive seriousness even made this boredom fest kind of funny to watch at times so I’m going to give it credit where credit is due.

6. The Conclusion

All in all, a pretty bad and boring movie filled with propaganda, clichés, flat characters but also occasional unintentionally funny and cartoonish moments sprinkled in.

If you’re into bad movies, I won’t stop you from watching it but I highly recommend you to do something else with your free time if you’re looking for an actually good movie.

This concludes today’s meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Stay tuned for updates, Citizens, and stay safe!

Love,

- Citizen Green Pixel

#french revolution #frev media #frev #maximilien robespierre #louis antoine de saint just #I still refuse to make a fouche tag #napoleon #history #movies #Jacobin Fiction Convention #review

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mrsjadecurtiss · 4 years ago

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I thought every lord had to be trained in the practice of sword...so they would have a strong physique...why Roose seems so small and delicate? Explanations?

why Roose seems so small and delicate? Explanations?

Despite his soft voice, Roose is not exactly "small and delicate" - this is what we know about his physique:

It was almost evenfall when the new master of Harrenhal arrived. He had a plain face, beardless and ordinary, notable only for his queer pale eyes. Neither plump, thin, nor muscular, he wore black ringmail and a spotted pink cloak. - Arya IX, aCoK

Which sounds like an average man's build. He is never explicitly described as being either short or tall, so he is probably of middling height. He also is not a young man anymore.

Though well past forty, [Roose] was as yet unwrinkled, with scarce a line to tell of the passage of time. - Reek II, aDwD

I thought every lord had to be trained in the practice of sword...so they would have a strong physique...

Sword training is usually part of a lord's education, and we also have a textual implication that Roose has been trained or at least has some experience because he knows how to judge swordfighting:

"Bulls are strong. Bears. I have seen my bastard fight. He is not entirely to blame. Reek was his tutor, the first Reek, and Reek was never trained at arms. Ramsay is ferocious, I will grant you, but he swings that sword like a butcher hacking meat." - Reek III, aDwD

He also owns a suit of armor and weapons:

Back where the press was thickest at the center of the column rode a man armored in dark grey plate over a quilted tunic of blood-red leather. - Reek II, aDwD

She could hear the sand shifting around inside as Elmar pried open the lid and pulled out a chainmail hauberk. "Do you think it's clean enough?" As Roose Bolton's squire, it was his task to keep his mail shiny bright. - Arya X, aCoK

Bolton buckled on his belt, adjusting the hang of sword and dagger. - Arya X, aCoK

However, this does not necessarily mean that Roose is a great physical fighter himself; just that he has enough experience to know what proper fighting looks like (like how people say, "you dont need to be an artist to critique art"). If he was trained at arms in his youth and watched many people fight in his life, he would be able to judge another fighter's prowess. A suit of armor is also necessary to command status and respect in a military context, even if he prefers to command from the back. Roose is an able and confident military commander.

Apparently, his age is also already seen as "getting old" in-universe:

"My father [Gulian Swann] is an old man, my lord. Well past forty. His fighting days are done." - Jaime VIII, aSoS

So with Roose being the same age, he would have aged out of the prime fighting days in any case.

We also get the implication that even in his youth, he probably never risked his life in 1:1 battle or got into any serious confrontation, since he has no scars to tell of it (which the text deliberately contrasts with his battle experience):

Though Roose had been in battles, he bore no scars. - Reek II, aDwD

The text also never makes note of his fighting abilities, and no character ever comments on his skill at arms; usually he is instead noted by others for his cunning and caution. He does not have the trained body of a regular fighter (being described as "soft", contrasting characters like Tywin), and he has a cautious personality and stays out of danger, making it appear that he does not enjoy the thrill of physical 1:1 battle and prefers other hobbies in his freetime; seemingly not honing the craft much beyond his assumed youth's training and keeping a layman's knowledge for the hunt and self-defense. Since nobility is inherited, a lord does not need to actually be the physically strongest in his land as long as he can still project his authority, which Roose is able to do; and for actual physical fighting lords have guardsmen and soldiers.

We do know that he enjoys the hunt, which provides an opportunity to kill and use his weaponry in a more controlled context that does not endanger his life the way warring and swordfighting does (as hunting was a popular sport for nobles).

"I will hunt today," Roose Bolton announced as Qyburn helped him into a quilted jerkin. - "Is it safe, my lord?" Qyburn asked. "Only three days past, Septon Utt's men were attacked by wolves. They came right into his camp, not five yards from the fire, and killed two horses." - "It is wolves I mean to hunt. I can scarcely sleep at night for the howling." - Arya X, aCoK

The hunting of hart was most frequently done with the help of hounds, called hunting “par force”. In this method, the lay of the hart was found and then hounds were used by a hunting party to corner down or tire the harts in the chase. Once the hart was slow enough, the leading man of the hunting party would kill it with sword or spear. Boars and wolves were two other notable animals which were hunted in a similar fashion. - medievalchronicles

While we have many lords that enjoy warfare and tournaments and built a reputation as fearsome fighters, we also have plenty of lords that are strategists and readers or otherwise not martial for plenty of reasons including personality, illness/disability and age; and more who are just mediocre swordsmen or excel in other areas. Being martially talented is advantageous in a patriarchal society as it shows masculinity and strength, however there are other qualities that can make someone be respected as well, as long as they dont appear pathetic or weak. Ned for example was a powerful lord, even if he wasn’t the strongest swordsman in his family.

My assumption is that training at arms is part of the standard education for a young noble, since it is an expected skill for a man in their patriarchal society; Being able to handle a sword is useful in many situations, and a lord is also expected to lead his men to war and thus have some martial knowledge as well as project a certain strong/masculine image. However, if a lord becomes a great swordsman/tourney fighter or just stays at a basic/mediocre level seems to depend on his own personality and if he has a passion for the craft (though there can be other factors influencing his decision, like expectations from his family).

[Since Roose is not a PoV and we know little about his past and nothing about his childhood, this meta has a lot of speculation that could be contradicted in future books. But from the Information we know, these are the conclusions i draw for characterization.]

#asks #roose bolton #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #Anonymous

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rayveewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Ray Hijacks the Team ZIT Ghostbuster AU Again

So @shadeswift99 made a few posts a while ago about a Team ZIT(S) ghostbuster AU, And then I may or may not have hijacked the post to add in ideas for most of the other hermits because why not.

Now, back then I was spitballing ideas and making them up on the spot, which is admittedly my usual writing process, but hey.

That said, I've had more time to think about it, and then last night I blacked out for a few hours and came to with a Google Doc filled with short bios for all of the hermits and a handful of hermit-adjacents. Now, this rapidly turned into an urban fantasy AU in my hands, but hey. It's fun.

This is in alphabetical order, with alternate personas (EX, Helsknight, Beetlejhost) beneath their original counterparts when applicable:

Bdubs

Lives in an old mansion in the woods alongside Doc for reasons known only to them. Bdubs works as an interior designer, with a side gig as a freelance hairdresser. His eyes are unnaturally large, similar to Keralis’, and he is at least partially a plant. Completely feral and frequently gets in trouble for having knives on him at all times. He and Cleo have a thing called Knife Club which makes everyone else nervous. Nobody messes with Knife Club. It’s not worth it. Sunbathes frequently.

Beef

Is a perfectly normal human being. He works as a butcher with a side gig as a graphic designer specializing in album covers and spends his free time playing pokemon and dragging Etho along to social events. He was the first person to spot the cryptid, and the first person who Etho approached of his own accord.

Biffa

Is a ghost possessing a robotic shell. Biffa is from the future. While initially his main goal was to get back home to his own time, Biffa has since made friends and settled down into a new life running a cafe specializing in a wide range of teas. He’s quite content with this, and has actually found himself far happier than he was in his own time. While his nature means he can see, hear and touch ghosts, his body was built specifically for a disembodied soul to be in the driver’s seat, and he doesn’t want to risk another taking control. Also, he has more important things to do than have fistfights with ghosts.

Cleo

Is a ghost possessing her own dead corpse. Her nature allows her to see, hear and touch ghosts. Can and will fistfight spirits. She works as a teacher, so she’s usually busy, but occasionally in really nasty situations the Beetlejhost will drag her in to break a ghost’s legs. Does sculpture in her free time, and is actually really good. The only one who can wrangle Beetle to any real capacity, and she’s learned to keep him on a fairly short leash. Housemates with Joe, and Keralis also pops in pretty frequently. Has Knife Club with Bdubs. Has an enchanted flower crown that prevents her from decaying further; a gift from Beetle. Recently started learning magic in the form of necromancy and illusions. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Zloy, in which she temporarily traps his soul in random inanimate objects every now and then.

Cub

A bit of a ‘mad scientist’ archetype, Cub’s experiments are not exactly the most ethical, though they’re at least more professional than Doc’s. Responsible for the creation of Jevin. Cub gets possessed stupidly easily- sometimes willingly- and can usually handle it himself but sometimes has to call for help. Has a magical method of communication with Scar for exactly this reason. Has a day job as co-owner of a business called ConCorp, which he started with Scar. Has probably broken the Geneva Convention.

Doc

Was presumably human at one point. Now an abomination. Repeated experiments on himself have resulted in a massively changed facial and foot structure, a body covered in mottled green scales, claws, and goat horns. He lost half his face in one of his experiments, and constructed a new cybernetic one. He lost his right arm fighting God. Killed said god and would do it again. Lives in a mansion in the woods with Bdubs, though nobody’s really sure why. Owns a casino because of course he does. Also a living crime against fashion, because the man refuses to wear anything other than his tattered lab coat, torn jeans, and crocs.

Ely

Runs the local radio station. Nobody’s ever seen him in person, and nobody knows where he gets people’s voice clips for his remixes. Probably a cryptid. Maybe a ghost. Seems pretty chill, despite the blatant invasions of privacy.

Etho

Is a cryptid. Lives out in the woods in an abomination that can barely be called a house. Has never been seen in anything other than full Kakashi cosplay. Tends to keep to himself, but occasionally lets Beef drag him along to social events, often with Doc and Bdubs. Nobody really knows what his deal is. Probably not human. Probably.

False

Used to be part of an illegal underground cage fighting ring, until she earned enough to buy her way out. Having grown up in said ring, she struggles to adjust to normal life, but living in a town where the barista is a robot and the local tailor has wings makes it easier. She now has a job as security at Doc’s casino, alongside Iskall.

Grian

Is either an angel or a demigod, but nobody knows which. Has wings. Is both a tailor and an architect. A complete gremlin who has elaborate masks of various birds and will wear them to commit crimes. Eats seeds. Messes with everyone else’s plants. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats. Volunteers at the local theatre.

Hypno

Has three eyes, but hides the third one under a bandanna at all times. Can see ghosts with it. Had problems with sections of plumbing randomly getting clogged and also making very weird noises, and eventually called Team ZIT when the plumbers couldn’t find the source. Was prepared for ghosts, but wound up with a slime creature instead. Works in a $2 store for some reason.

Impulse

Is fully human. The most sensible member of Team ZIT (which admittedly isn’t saying much), Impulse has a day job as a freelancer building custom PCs and fixing broken tech. Agreed to the whole ghostbusting deal because he was bored, mostly. Was the first one to meet Skizz face-to-face, and is the one to own that particular place outright. Gets possessed every now and then, usually by larger spirits. Used to run solely on caffeine and chronic anxiety until Zedaph started getting on his case about his sleep schedule. Now he runs on less caffeine, more sleep, and the same amount of chronic anxiety.

Iskall

Was part of a cloning experiment to create the ultimate hitman, and was the only known one to both survive and escape before the whole thing was shut down by the authorities. Their eye and arm were replaced with cybernetics in order to increase their already enhanced abilities, and they were chased by said authorities, eventually winding up on Mumbo’s doorstep and becoming Mumbo’s problem. Now works as security at Doc’s casino, alongside False. Lives at Jungle Wood flats. Occasionally volunteers at the local theatre. Does bonsai as a hobby.

Jevin

Is the slime creature in the pipes. Hypno lets him live with him under the condition he stops blocking the plumbing and making weird noises at 3 AM (Jevin still blocks the plumbing and makes weird noises at 3 AM, just not as much as he was). Has taught himself to take a humanoid shape, and likes having fingers. Sleeps in the bathtub because he can. Was created from a vat of chemicals in a secret lab underneath the house, which used to be owned by Cub. Doesn’t really talk to the man in question that much, but will occasionally refer to Cub as his father for the sole reason of watching him go through eight existential crises in three minutes. Has a glock.

Joe

Head librarian at the local public library, and has read a lot of books on Supernatural Things. Is a veritable fountain of exposition if you can figure out what he’s saying or have Cleo along with you to threaten the integrity of his shins. Has never been seen in the same place as the Beetlejhost. Are they the same person? Are they entirely separate beings? Is there a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde-type situation going on? Who knows!

Beetlejhost

Literally nobody really knows what his deal is. Nobody. Team ZIT ran into him on a call that they expected to be a false alarm and then he decided to follow them home. Spends most of his time being a minor nuisance in the most bizarre ways possible. Is implied to be responsible for the Ever Given getting lodged in the Suez Canal, but never confirmed. When he’s not bothering Team ZIT or getting them out of tight spots, he’s usually pestering Cleo, the only one who can keep him in line. It’s not really known if he and Cleo have a history or if they’re just Like That.

Keralis

Is a ghost haunting an architecture firm, and is mostly bound to the building, though he can travel to other buildings the firm has built, which is, uh, most of them. Initially only able to do small things- mostly writing notes or drawing diagrams- he eventually meets the Beetlejhost when the latter follows Mumbo to work one day for shits and giggles (he wanted to see how long he could mess with Mumbo before the man noticed. As it turned out, about a week, and by the end it was Iskall who noticed). After a couple of days in which Beetle teaches Keralis Ghost Things™, he scares half the office when he finally manifests for the first time. Has unnaturally large eyes and nicknames for most of the workers. Has no idea how he died or what his unfinished business might be. Very knowledgeable about architecture, and his input is usually very much appreciated.

Mumbo

Is a perfectly normal human being who does IT at Keralis’ architecture firm. Lives at Jungle Wood flats and spends most of his free time tinkering with tech and trying to keep Grian and Iskall out of trouble, which is a losing battle. Has a large, beating golden heart in his flat. He’s not really sure what its deal is, but if he feeds it apples it produces enough power for the entire building. Oh, and if he forgets to feed it for an extended period of time it starts draining his bank account. It’s really weird.

Pixlriffs

Was a perfectly normal human being until he died protecting a certain Russian zombie and became a perfectly normal ghost. Was a reporter in life and is a reporter in death. Runs a blog alongside Zloy about the local goings-on, supernatural or not. The blog’s the type where unless you live in/near the town you most likely won’t stumble across it, but they do have a small following of outsiders who assume the blog’s just a work of fiction. His unfinished business is to prevent Zloy from doing anything particularly stupid, a constant battle. Is able to go more places than Zloy due to being incorporeal, but respects people’s privacy. He’s bound to Zloy to a certain degree, not being able to go beyond a certain range of his friend. The range is pretty big, though, and he has plenty freedom of movement.

Python

Had a run-in with the fae as a kid, in which he accidentally pissed one off. In retribution, the faerie challenged him to answer a riddle or he’d be turned into a snake. Python’s answer was partially correct, so the faerie only transformed him partially. Python is fairly chill, though he strongly dislikes the cold and starts hissing if anyone disturbs him during Sun Time™. Sometimes Bdubs, being partially flora, joins Python for Sun Time™. He’s not venomous, because, you know...python. Also, he has a mildly disturbing habit of strangling rats and mice and then eating them whole, but he can’t help it and just tries not to do so when he has company.

Ren

Is a werewolf. He’s pretty chill regardless of form, though it’s only been recently he’s been comfortable enough leaving his ears and tail visible. He works as a lumberjack. One time Pixl introduced him to Monty Python’s Lumberjack Song and it quickly became his favourite thing. He spends most of his free time volunteering at the local theatre because Ren is absolutely a theatre kid and nobody can convince me otherwise. Gets possessed every now and then. Lives in Jungle Wood flats.

Scar

Works as a landscape developer. Gets possessed absurdly easily, though not quite as frequently as Cub. Has a magical method of communication with him. Technically co-owns ConCorp, but isn’t as involved. His cat, Jellie, is very obviously an eldritch abomination in feline form and he is comedically unaware of this. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats with Grian, Iskall, Mumbo, Stress, and Ren.

Skizz

Is the ghost haunting Team ZIT’s office. He was murdered by someone he’d thought was a friend who was trying to use his place to hide from the cops, and he’s stuck around, haunting the building. His unfinished business is to make sure nobody else uses the building for anyone shady, but the ghost rumours tended to chase most people off. Eventually he gets used to having Team ZIT around, and when Tango admits he doesn’t really have anywhere to go one day, Skizz eventually makes the decision to finally unlock the still-furnished upper floor for him. He’s bound to the building, but Impulse learns that carrying Skizz’s old vest with them allows him to leave. After that, Skizz sometimes accompanies them on missions and occasionally just hanging out. He’s usually more helpful than the Beetlejhost is.

Stress

Is a witch. Stress lives in Jungle Wood Flats and works as a doctor who specializes in supernaturally caused injuries- Team ZIT are some of her best customers. She also sells magic potions of various kinds, and has a side gig as a florist. She’s 90% of the Jungle inhabitants’ impulse control. Also has cryokinesis.

Tango

The Team ZIT member with a car. He gets possessed with frankly ridiculous frequency, but claims not to believe in ghosts for a long time (and keeps up the bit for even longer). Has developed various signals to indicate when he’s being possessed again. The strongest one, a rather nasty demon Cleo and the Beetlejhost had to team up on, left him with his glowing red eyes. He didn’t really have anywhere to go before Impulse bought the office, and tended to sleep on the couch or in his car until Skizz decided to let him into the upper floor, where he now lives alongside Zedaph and Impulse.

TFC

A now-retired ghostbuster, TFC calls in Team ZIT one night when he finds himself in over his head against a ghost with a grudge. He winds up becoming a bit of a mentor figure to the trio, usually coaching them over the phone if they’re not sure how to deal with one of the stranger spirits. Lost his leg years ago in a fight with a poltergeist that could have gone better, and now has a robotic prosthetic made by Doc.

Wels

While Team ZIT was out investigating some rumour or another in the woods, they came across a large stone box. Following video game logic, I guess, they then decided opening this large stone box sounded like a fun idea. Well, Tango and Zedaph did. Impulse was a bit more hesitant. The box actually held a medieval knight who’d been put in an enchanted sleep for centuries by his demonic doppelgänger, and was very much not prepared for modern life. Team ZIT took him to Xisuma, who happened to live closest, and Wels is currently helping out on the farm and trying to adjust to life in the 21st century. He can understand and speak modern English just fine because magic. Volunteers at the local theatre quite a lot.

Hels

Is Wels’ doppelgänger. Technically a minor demon. Won a fight with Wels and sealed him away for centuries as a result. A recurring problem. His real motivation is that he really desperately doesn’t want to go back to Hell, but he’s too proud to admit it. Lives in the woods with EX, who’s basically his only friend, though the weirdo with the brown cardigan keeps pestering him about his backstory and feelings for some reason. Has minor pyrokinesis.

Like Biffa, XB is also a ghost from the future, though it seems to be a different timeline than Biffa’s. His unfinished business is preventing the apocalypse, but he has no idea how to do that, no idea if he’s in the right timeline, and is pretty sure he’s gone back a lot farther than he probably should’ve. Also, there’s the whole paradox issue, where if he prevents the apocalypse he never has a reason to go back and prevent the apocalypse, so he doesn’t prevent the apocalypse, so he has to go back and- he tries not to think about it too much. He mostly just hangs out in an abandoned house on the edge of town and vibes.

Xisuma

Is a beekeeper. Nobody’s ever seen his face; when he’s not in his beekeeping outfit, he’s either wearing a helmet, or (more recently) an extremely lifelike and detailed animal mask (is it a mask?). Actually a shapeshifting alien, he crashed down to Earth after a scuffle with his evil clone and was stranded because Earth doesn’t have the right tools or resources to repair a spaceship. These days he’s actually found he’s happier tending to his bees, selling honey, and helping his friends out, and probably wouldn’t leave Earth even if he could. It’s a simpler life, but a pleasant one. He bonds with Biffa over a shared love of tea and being stranded in a technologically inferior world and finding a home.

Evil Xisuma

Is Xisuma’s clone. Feels that if everyone’s going to call him ‘Evil’ he may as well own it. Shot his original’s spaceship down in a scuffle but wound up being brought down with him. Currently hides in the woods. Generally more of a minor nuisance than an actual danger. Used to spend his free time bothering X but has gotten put off by Wels, who has a problem when it comes to evil clones. His friends consist of Hels, who is a terrible role model, and Zedaph, who’s trying to help him work through his problems behind everyone’s backs. Can summon lightning because he deserves it.

Zedaph

Is the reason Team ZIT is ghostbusting in the first place. He’s a sheep shearer by trade, but that’s a fairly seasonal thing and ghostbusting is more fun anyway. Has somehow never been possessed, and claims it’s because he’s always standing next to Tango. He makes sure the other two gets enough sleep Because we all know they can’t be trusted to do it. Probably has some sort of really bizarre and situational magical powers he is thoroughly unaware of. Qualified to be a licensed therapist. Made friends with Evil X at one point, somehow.

Zloy

Like Cleo, he’s a ghost possessing a corpse. Unlike Cleo, there’s a good chance it’s not his corpse. Eh, it’s not like anyone else was using it. Runs a blog with Pixl, because why not. Was already a zombie when he met Pixl, who was still alive at the time. His body is a bit more decayed than Cleo’s, but it’s fine. His goggles are enchanted with the same preservation spell; it’s not really ever explained where he got them from. Has no regard for privacy but is fortunately unable to turn invisible or phase through walls due to inhabiting a physical body. Both can theoretically physically fight ghosts and has enough time to physically fight ghosts, meaning he would be a valuable ally if he could be bothered. Lives in a graveyard. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Cleo, in which he puts jabs at her on the blog. Once spent a week as a (very sarcastic) floating potato.

Hermiton

Is the name of the place they all live in/near. Located in an ambiguous location in an ambiguous country, Hermiton is technically large enough to be considered a city but has Town VibesTM. Supernatural going-ons are a fairly normal part of life, and a good number of inhabitants aren’t humans. Despite this, the wider world seems mostly ignorant of the existence of ghosts, magic, etc. I’m not too sure about geography, but it’s surrounded by forest in most directions and in a warm enough climate to not have snow in the winter (so Python doesn’t, you know, freeze to death). Most people don’t tend to bat an eyelid at strange-looking people walking down the street or serving them at the store; they’re used to it by now. There are several theories as to why Hermiton specifically has so much going on when it comes to the supernatural- ley lines, secretly the resting place of some long-forgotten god, et cetera- but it’s actually more of a case of ‘people who have supernatural traits hear rumours of a place where a lot of people have supernatural traits and go there in search of answers/a place to belong’. This doesn’t exactly explain where all the ghosts came from, but hey. Nothing’s perfect.

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katnissmellarkkk · 4 years ago

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Okayyyy chappy seven 🤩 Here we goooo 🥳

Lord, Katniss always had nightmares 😭 even before the games, between her father’s death, her mother’s abandonment and the other traumatizing things she saw in her life, my girl never slept peacefully a day in her life 🥺.

She even indicates that she sometimes has nightmares about past hunger games 😭😭😭. Someone protect my smol child. Please. Someone.... Someone? Anyone? No? Okay 🥺

“I bolt up screaming for my father to run as the mine explodes into a million deadly bits of light.” This is such a powerful image and it really does show that Katniss has literally envisioned all the gory details of her father’s death for the last four years. This is so sad 😞

Also though. Katniss really doesn’t talk much about her father’s death after the first book and definitely doesn’t describe nightmares about it. So .... like basically, the games traumatized her so badly that, her father failing to escape the mines as the collapsed in on him, crushing him into the pits of despair, the possibility of rescuing his corpse deemed unimaginable, pales in comparison? Yes I just tried and failed to phrase that long run on sentence the way Katniss phrases her nightmares about her dad dying, yes that was over the top but you know what? So. Is. Katniss.

“Dawn is breaking through the windows” Twilight reference 😬😬😬. I couldn’t stop myself, y’all. Forgive for please.

“The Capitol has a misty, haunted air.” Katniss, you’re from the butthole of Kentucky, the air you’re used to is probably humid as all get out 😓😓💦😅😅

“I must have bitten into the side of my cheek in the night. My tongue probes the ragged flesh and I taste blood.” 😒😒😒😒 this feeling ..... is .... v v v .... distinct .... and .... familiar 😕🙁☹️

“I end up hopping from foot to foot as alternating jets of icy cold and steaming hot water assault me.” Why is this so funny omg 😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂😂😅😅😅😅😅 Katniss is just like pressing buttons like, “Ah! Too cold! 🥶 Ah! Too hot! 🥵 Ah!!!!!” All while jumping like a .... cat 🐱🥁

Lemon foam? 🍋 Whatever. I guess there’s weirder flavors of soap we have today but like where’s the Philosophy flavors that give recipes on the bottles??? Surely they’d survive an apocalypse??? Everyone uses those???

I’m so glad Katniss didn’t forget to moisturize, even as she prepares for a death match 😅😅😅😅 even if it’s just as simple as pressing a single button, why is she even taking the time to press it?

I know, I know. She just wants to make sure her skin is so smooth for the arena that the knives and arrows just slide right off 🤣🤣🤣🤣

“This is the first time since the morning of the reaping that I resemble myself.” Lolololol which means Mr. Romantic is gonna be even more turned on by the sight of ya, since he’s crushed on you looking like this for the last decade of his life 🥳😎🤗💁🏼‍♀️. Peeta ain’t even here yet and I’m already making the shipper comments Samantha calm down 🙄😶😑🤐🤐🤐🤐🤐🤐

Seriously there where is Peeta? Did he also have to figure out the temperature controls in the shower? Did he also moisturize? I miss him I wanna know about his morning too 😔. Katty, is it too much to ask for you to go take a lil ... sneak peek into his room for me? 😏😏😏

Twenty dishes seems like a lot for like four people eating? Eh, maybe six people, if we count the stylists who magically pick and choose when they’re coming to a meal... Hmm, I’ll calculate just so no one else has to. 🤓😬🤗 No one else cares, Samantha. 🤐🥱😴😶 Twenty dishes amounts out to about five plates without the stylists and three and a half-ish with so.... idk it’s not that much food I guess but it seems like a lot for one meal, esp if people in the Capitol intend to keep their trim figures. This is why that one prep team girl is chubby. 🤐🤐🤐

Awww Katniss copying Peeta’s weird lil eating quirks 🤗😎🥳. She’s already taking interest in him, she just don’t realize it yet 💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️ shipper comment alert 🚨🚨

But also has anyone actually tried dipping bread on hot chocolate and was it good or does it taste as repulsive as it sounds to me? I hate it when my food even so much as dares to touch though 🤢😡😤😓

Oooo I always forget Prim has to be utilizing her goat, milking the thing every day until it’s dry I’m not a farmer idk how milking animals works ... so she contributes more than I give her credit I suppose.... I’m making an effort for you, Primmers. You seem useless and immature but I’m trying. 😪😶 Taylor Swift voice 🎶 *this is me trying* 🎶

Oh wow it was only two mornings ago? Man. The first book is slow moving. 😅😭 six chapters in and we’ve gotten through one point five days 🤣

“It makes me irritated that Peeta is wearing exactly the same outfit I am.” “Listen, Peeta, one of us has to change, this is getting embarrassing, you have to stop borrowing my clothes!”

“This twins act is going to blow up in out faces once the Games begin.” Ahhaahahahaha blow up 💥 💣 🔥. Get it, get it. 🥁 Because she represents fire. And she also blows things up in Every. Single. Book.

But seriously, did Cinna and Portia and Haymitch all plan on presenting Katniss and Peeta are like, tight friends or whatever, and then Peeta is like “oh b-tee-dubs, I have a massive crush on K-dog” and they just decided it perfectly fit into their plans?

I’m so jealous that their breakfast has bread baskets 😩😩😩 I know they’re headed to the slaughter but still. Bread.

if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now." "Why would you coach us separately?" In case one of you ... not naming names .... Peeta .... wants to reveal your lifelong crush on live television 😎😎😎

Also Haymitch is like “make an important decision but take zero time to consider it, I’m tired and hungover, kids, idc for your drama 😒”

Which as an auntie to a wonderful little two year old ... is v relatable 😅🥲🙃🤭

“And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." I wanna make a dirty joke here so badly but the lord himself is saying no.

“Town families usually eat expensive butcher meat. Beef and chicken and horse.” Ohhh this is interesting. Katniss believing Peeta and the other merchants live high on the hog while Peeta is later is like “I eat expired bread for every meal, Katniss” I mean, better than starving like her, but also not how she’s painting the picture in her mind. 😶😭

Also Katniss never mentions horses in Twelve, where’s the butcher getting horses from to slaughter and sell? That’s why Katniss never sees them, Samantha, duh 🙄

“I can't do anything. Unless you count baking bread.” "Sorry, I don't.” This was such a quick and matter of fact brush off, poor Peeta 😭😭😭 my baby I’m still rooting for you don’t worry you got this

Also. Lowkey, highkey, that tiny exchange triggered me. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭. Those awkward moments where people brush me off or glance over me live in my head. Rent free. For life.

I wonder sometimes often times if Katniss’ father and Gale’s father knew each other? Both hunted and worked in the mines. Just a random sidebar 😅🤭🤐🙃

“She’s excellent” He’s so proud of his wife 🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧

So uh.... is it safe to say Mr. Mellark is an Everlark fan? If he likes and admires Katniss and Peeta and him apparently have some kind of close-ish bond (okay, maybe not but maybe) then perhaps he is carrying the shipper banner back in Twelve for them 🥳🥳😎😎

Katniss, you dingaling, of course he noticed you 🙄🙄🙄

Peeta compliments her and her instant reaction is “what are you doing, weirdo?” 😅��

“Don’t underrate yourself” Peeta, love of my life, take your own advise. Stupid. 😪😪😪

“I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour” Katniss in the market, staring across the way at Peeta, 👁👄👁, watching him lift flour over his shoulder.

“He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother." This is criminally undiscussed. Peeta being a wrestler alone is undiscussed but also.... did you go to his matches, Katniss? Miss Anti-Social, Hunting-First-Everything-Else-Later? 😏😏😏 If this ain’t proof of her lil crush idk what is

“All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance.” “You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows.” Does no one else realize that Katniss and Peeta literally took the other’s advise for the first part of the games? How did Peeta get in with the Careers? The way she just said. Where is Katniss when Peeta and the Careers discover her? High up in a tree. Okay, this maybe didn’t compute right but I had a thought here so I said it

Peeta’s mother is just a monster. Who says that crap? 😔😔😔 don’t worry, baby, I’m rooting for you

“She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is” Yeah, she is, no thanks to you, Mrs. Mellark 😤. Stingy ho.

Peeta’s got pain in his eyes 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Awww, Katniss accrediting her survival to Peeta’s help 😭😭😭😭. This is so pure. Also kiss now, you little freaks.

“She has no idea. The effect she can have.” This is such an iconic line... but the can has always had me laughing. She can have an effect, if she really wants to. Or not, depending on the day.

Katniss is so stupid, how did she construe that as an insult??? 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️ y’all ever just wanna smack her into a wall?

“In public, I want you by each other's side every minute” If Peeta didn’t have a long life crush, what was the ultimate plan with all this friendship act they’re being forced into? 🤔🤔🤔

Even Peeta’s trying to object to it 😭😭😭😭

“You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other.” You will fall in love. 🤩🥳😎

“I bite my lip and stalk back to my room, making sure Peeta can hear the door slam.” Okay, now imagine how much she’s hurting his feelings right now 😖😣 what a little brat

“But that didn't mean I wanted to do everything with Peeta. Who, by the way, clearly doesn't want to be partnering up with me, either.” Lolololololololol this is so funny in hindsight 🤣🤣🤣. Also if you showed a little enthusiasm, Peeta would probably be happy to partner with you.

“But a tiny part of me wonders if this was a compliment. That he meant I was appealing in some way.” No, really, Katniss? A compliment? Who’d give you one of those? 🙄🙄🙄

“It's weird, how much he's noticed me. Like the attention he's paid to my hunting.” A normal person at this point would put together a crush 😅

“And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either. [...] I have kept track of the boy with the bread.” Anddd a normal person would figure out their own crush at this point 😅😅.

“I do a quick assessment. Peeta and I are the only two dressed alike.” We stan a matching couple in this house 😎😏

“Almost all of the boys and at least half of the girls are bigger than I am” That means 18 out of 24 tributes tower over my girl here. Smol Katniss. The movies did such erasure on this front I’m still bitter 🤐😒😤😩

“I may be smaller naturally, but overall my family's resourcefulness has given me an edge in that area.” Just a tiny muscular thing standing next to a bunch of tall, lanky kids. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Awww “Each [Career tribute] must have fifty to a hundred pounds on me.” I mean ... let’s calculate. A muscular girl would probably weigh like 150 pounds... so basically Katniss is at most, 100 pounds. Tiny Katty.

“I'm thinking that it's lucky I'm a fast runner when Peeta nudges my arm and I jump.” This is a random, cute interaction 😍😍😍. Shipper blinders are on and tight.

“Suppose we tie some knots.” “Right you are.” I legitimately just scratched my face, who says right you are? An 87 year old man, that’s who 😅😅😅. Not turning your girl on very well, Peeta baby.

Although it does sound a bit like a backwoods southern thing soooo.... hillbilly Everlark nation rise. 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

“We concentrate on this one skill for an hour until both of us have mastered it.” Awww, so Peeta knows how to tie a snare? He’s not as clueless as half the fandom acts.

How exactly is frosting cakes equating to amazing camouflager in a death match? Books crack me up with these connections. “I’m an amazing artist because I write birthday cards!”

Lolololol Prim admiring her future brother-in-law’s handiwork 🥰🥰🥰🥰 too bad she dies before they can get together for real for real.

“Somehow the whole thing - his skill, those inaccessible cakes, the praise of the camouflage expert - annoys me.” Dude, you get praised by everyone and their brother while Peeta gets overlooked, give him a moment to shine. 😑🙄 jealous wife much?

Also she’s already picking up on Peeta’s eye for beauty 😅😅😅

“It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death.” "Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake-“ "Say we move on.” She’s such a little snot. 😒😒😒

But also I love that already in this point of their relationship, Peeta is noticing when she’s being a brat 😭😂😅. “Don’t be so superior.”

“Despite Haymitch's order to appear mediocre, Peeta excels in hand-to-hand combat, and I sweep the edible plants test without blinking an eye.” Lolololol their mentor’s advise went into one ear and right out the other 😂😅🤣.

But also why did the movie make a point in adding an extra scene of Peeta looking weak and the Careers staring at him? That literally took up time and served no purpose at all. 😤😤😤 I’m coming for you, Gary Ross

Awww, everyone but the careers eat alone. But Katniss and Peeta eat together 🥺🥺🥺. It’s like a forced first date 🥳🥳🥳

I like how Katniss says they include bread from every district but she then proceeds to only mention the two districts that later have relevant tributes. 😅😅😅

Lolololol their fake friendship “laugh ... now! Okay, I’ll smile, try to say something interesting”

“Ever since I slammed my door, there's been a chill in the air between us.” Well yeah, you probably hurt his feelings 🥺🥺🥺

Umm, Katniss just casually drops that she was chased by a bear.... how did homegirl live? 😬😳

Peeta knowing Rue’s name and being the one to take notice of her first 🥺🥺🥺. If the games had come down to Katniss, Peeta and Rue, y’all know Everlark would have swallowed the berries and gotten Rue home. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

“Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around.” "All right, Katniss.” He made a single comment to you, ding dong. He didn’t ask for a goodnight kiss 🙄🙄🙄.

Also anyone ever think of how lonely Peeta’s life must be? He’s not close to his family that we can see, Delly’s his only real friend, after he wins he lives in that huge house all alone... I feel sad now. I did this to myself. 😬😭🥺

Katniss’ “Oh! The weapons!” When she sees the bows and arrows is so cute 🥰🥰🥰

Katniss has such a rage built up inside of her. Let it out, girlfriend

See, I’d have done this too but in my rage, I’d probably have shot a real person and not the pig ... goodbye, Plutarch 👋🏻

Andddd I think that’s all for this chapter! Sorry my comments weren’t as interesting as usual 😬.

#thgagain

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tuanyiems · 4 years ago

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First Everything

First Everything Bambam x Fem Reader Genre: fluff, a little angst Words: 9.2k [Masterlist in blog description] Plot: Sequel to Muse (Arranged Marriage AU) Part of the Marriage Life AU series. A series of dates in which Bambam tries his hardest (poor boy) to convince you that he really, really wants to be with you. a/n – lol idunno how I feel about this but here you go~

When the door of the restaurant opens, Bambam’s eyes dart over to the bodies entering for the umpteenth time. When it’s not you, he sighs, rubbing sweaty palms over the deep purple suede of his pants. The designer material darkens under his touch, but he’s too nervous to fret over his outfit at the moment.

He’s beginning to regret not picking you up at your place. He should have been more insistent. But the choice was made and now he is here, leg shaking in his chair of the Michelin star restaurant that he’s not quite sure you’re even going to meet him at.

He gulps down his second glass of water, throat parched at just the thought of getting stood up. He eats at this place at least three times a month. How embarrassing would it be for everyone to witness this rejection?

The door opens again and Bambam jerks his head up like a meerkat. An elderly woman walks in, much to his disappointment.

He sinks into the plush seat, tipping the glass to his lips again only to find it empty. A waitress promptly comes over to refill his glass, relieving him of the menacing view of the restaurant door for a fleeting moment.

What’s wrong with him? Bambam hasn’t been this nervous since…well, high school.

“Kun…pi…mook uh Bu—”

Bambam rolls his eyes at the freshmen English teacher, Mr. Kim, butchering his name. “I just go by Bambam,” comes his automatic response.

Mr. Kim breaks into a sigh of relief, taking pen to clipboard, “Great, Bambam it is.”

But Bambam has already zoned out.

Because right across from him is you—an unassuming girl in the back seat, smiling to yourself. Your lips move as you tilt your head down, but Bambam knows exactly what you’ve mouthed and his heart catches in his throat. Bambam.

His name makes your cheeks dimple.

He doesn’t know why, but this little bit of knowledge makes his chest squeeze.

The next day and every day after, Bambam makes sure to sit next to you. Thus, began the beginning of your beautiful love story…

…is what he had hoped.

But after the first day of high school, you don’t even spare him a glance. So instead, Bambam spends every hour of English period watching you from his peripheral.

You are a quiet student and most days you spend the hour doodling in the margins of your notebook. Often, your doodles are centered around cute cartoons yelling at you to pay attention in class. Every once in a while, he’ll catch a funny caricature of one of your classmates.

Maybe you’ll draw him one day, he hopes to himself.

(You don’t.)

“Bambam and Y/N, please read the next passage,” Mr. Kim interrupts his daydreams one day, about a month into the new school year.

His eyes widen, fingers flipping through the pages of Romeo and Juliet.

“Page 46,” you whisper as you get up from your seat.

Bambam lets out a breath, thumbing to the right page as he stands from his seat beside yours. He squares his shoulders, attempting to stand tall though his shoulders only manage about an inch higher than yours, but every inch counts!

“If I profane,” you whisper when he doesn’t begin reading.

Mr. Kim looks at Bambam pointedly.

“If I proFANE!” he starts loudly, cringing when his voice cracks. His classmates snicker, making his cheeks go red, but you don’t even flinch. Your eyes remain steady on the page of your own book, waiting for him to continue. He clears his throat, “If I p-profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my…lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch…with a tender k-kiss.”

Bambam swallows, wiping a sweaty palm on his khaki pants. He prays no one notices his stutter. If you do, you don’t let on, lowering the book as you speak.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

“Ha-”

“You guys,” Mr. Kim sighs, interrupting Bambam. He looks around the room with a scowl. “Can we not read this out like robots, please? This is young love! They’re talking about kissing! Be more excited!”

“Is that what they’re talking about?” you mutter under your breath, eyebrows arching as you scanned the page.

Bambam snorts before covering his mouth with his hand quickly. You catch the sound though, looking up at him with a smile.

His heart catches in his throat.

The playful glint in your eyes keeps him afloat for months after.

When the restaurant doors open again, Bambam chokes on his water. He coughs into the red linen napkin, his grey contact eyes watering. He can’t help chuckling despite it all though.

You’re here. And fortunately for Bambam, your gaze is focused on the hostess. You’re asking her something, probably for directions to his table. You lean towards the hostess’ podium, the heels of your blush-colored flats rising to your tiptoes out of habit even though you are at least a foot clear of the podium. You have on your signature cream oversized knit cardigan which you pull tighter to your chest, covering the simple white dress beneath.

It is so very you—even the stroke of blue paint at the bottom of your dress (which you probably aren’t aware of). On any other girl, Bambam would have scrutinized the stain, especially at a restaurant of this class. Yet, on you, the mark is somehow endearing.

He wonders if the paint stain is fresh. Were you so absorbed in a painting that you came rushing straight here with no time to change? Or was this an old stain on a dress you loved so much you couldn’t bear to part ways with it?

“Hey,” your hesitant voice breaks him out of his thoughts as you take a seat across from him.

“Hi,” he breathes. Underneath the table, he pinches his thigh. Nope, not a dream.

“Sorry I kept you waiting, I had a hard time finding the entrance,” you chuckle to yourself. There’s a story behind that smile, there always seems to be a story behind every expression and gesture you make. He wonders if he’ll ever be part of that story. When he doesn’t respond, you tilt your head nervously. “Were…you waiting long?”

“Oh! Ha, no, not at all!” Bambam straightens in his seat.

You smile politely before turning away to admire the place. It’s a beautiful French restaurant that sits at the top of one of Seoul’s tallest hotels. The entire restaurant is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, offering a spectacular view of the city. Your eyes linger on the glittering lights of Seoul’s Friday night skyline.

Bambam doesn’t bother to glance out the window. His eyes remain on you, the glow of the candle at the center of the table flickers like stardust on your skin.

When you finally look back, Bambam leans on the table, lifting a proud brow. “Like the view?”

“This place is breathtaking,” you admit, fingers rubbing absentmindedly at the ends of your sleeves.

“Right? It’s one of my favorite places in the city,” he smiles triumphantly. “Wait ‘til you try the food.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Yeah, Lisa introduced me to this place a year ago and I’ve been coming ever since.”

“L-Lisa? Like…from Blackpink?” you look at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that Lisa, she’s a homie.”

You blink at him. “Wow, okay…cool.”

He pauses, not quite sure how to read your tone. Before he can ask though, the waitress interrupts with the usual spiel on menus and dishes of the night. When you read through the menu, your eyes grow big.

“My card is still on file, right?” Bambam asks, quick to assuage your worries. His card has been on file for months now.

“Yes, it should be, but I can check again for you,” the waitress smiles at him politely, knowing just as well that Bambam already knows this. He winks at her as she leaves before turning back to you.

Unlike his expectations though, the crease between your brow only deepens. He clears his throat, rubbing his palms against his thighs again.

“Anything catch your eye?”

You force out a smile, putting down your menu. “I can eat anything. Why don’t you decide?”

Bambam lifts a brow but nods in agreement. He wonders if French cuisine just isn’t your thing. He should have listened to Yugyeom and gone Japanese, huh? You can’t go wrong with omakase!

“Do you like wine?” he blurts, trying to get his best friend’s voice out of his head.

“Oh,” your eyes dart to the clear glass cases at the center of the restaurant showcasing their selection. You sink into your seat a little. “Well, I’m not really an expert, but I can drink it. Do you like wine?”

“I’ll let you try my favorite bottle! It’ll go great with the usual course I order,” he smiles, quite pleased with his decision.

“Sounds good,” you nod curtly.

After Bambam puts in the order, an uncomfortable silence follows. Your eyes keep traveling around the room like you don’t want to look at him. And Bambam, who could easily entertain an entire party of people at any given moment, finds himself at a loss for words. There’s probably a stain on his thighs now from how often he keeps wiping his palms. He’s too afraid to check.

“So,” he starts, extending the single word uneasily. He doesn’t manage to figure out the rest of his sentence though.

But it’s then that you finally break into a smile. A real one.

“Bambam,” you let out, and his eyes dart to your cheek where the ghost of a familiar dimple lays. “Are you feeling as awkward as I am?”

“More like nervous,” he confesses, leaning back into his seat.

Your brows raise, “You? Nervous?”

“It happens when I’m with beautiful people.”

You roll your eyes, “Says the same guy who’s ‘homies’ with Blackpink’s Lisa.”

Bambam grins, “When you meet her, you’ll see, she’s a bro.”

You arch your brows, clearly not believing him. “If she’s a bro, I can’t imagine what I am.”

You’re frowning and his heart sinks. He hates that you actually mean it. He hates that he can’t even tell you honestly what you mean to him. It’s way too soon for that kind of confession. He’s sure you wouldn’t take him seriously anyways. After all, he barely managed to even get this date.

Yn_ig: The animes lied to me. High school sucks.

Bambam snorts loudly, muffling himself beneath his blue checkered duvet before his mom can hear and yell at him to go to sleep.

It’s midnight and tomorrow will be the first day of sophomore year. He really should be sleeping, but instead he’s smiling stupidly at his phone. Your scowling face lights up his screen. Your best friend smiles brightly beside you, poking your cheek with the end of a paintbrush. You had spent your break taking an art class.

Bambam knows this because he’s been stalking your Instagram, although he’s been too afraid to like any of your posts.

You’ve gotten a lot better in the span of a few weeks though. Or at least, that’s what it seems like from having spent all of freshmen year watching you doodle in the margins. He wonders if he’ll get to sit beside you this year too. His stomach flips at the thought.

When morning comes, Bambam yawns loudly, his eyes barely open as he rushes to the bus stop. He hadn’t meant to stay up so late, but one thing led to another and suddenly he was on Soundcloud, listening to an indie artist by the name of Defsoul, who you had commented about on your friend’s Instagram post fifteen weeks ago.

He pulls out his phone, plugging in his earphones to continue listening. He steps into the bus, in the middle of bopping his head to a song when the sound escapes him and all he can hear is the thumping of his heart.

You’re sitting near the back, looking out the window. You have on headphones and a scowl that looks just like the picture you posted last night.

Steadying his breath, he walks past you and slides into the row of seats right behind yours. He wonders if you’re listening to the same song.

Maybe you’ll share the same homeroom this year. The entire bus ride to school, Bambam daydreams about all the conversations you’d share every morning if that were the case. He’d talk to you about Defsoul and then you’d share your stories about break. He’d tell you his was alright, but it would’ve been better if you two hung out. You’d give him that look, the same one you gave when you read out loud together, and then he’d poke your cheek like he’s always wanted to, right where your cheeks dimpled.

His bubble bursts as soon as a guy takes a seat beside you. Bambam can’t remember his name, but his face is familiar. He’s a senior, and by the way you move your headphones to the nape of your neck and smile, it seems like you know him. Holding his breath, Bambam pauses his song.

“2A? That used to be my homeroom!”

Bambam clenches his fist. His homeroom is at the other end of the hall from yours. Frowning, he eyes the back of the guy’s head as he leans into you.

“So, have you thought about what I asked over break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and Bambam can’t help but wonder what he’s asked of you. Is it a date? The way he whispers seems like it would be that kind of thing, and Bambam doesn’t doubt a girl like you must have a lot of admirers. Is it making you uncomfortable? Should he interrupt you two? But then, you’d clearly know he had been eavesdropping. But if this guy was making you uncomfortable, that shouldn’t matter, right?

Thighs straining, Bambam almost stands from his seat when you laugh. It’s the loudest he’s ever heard you, at least in person anyways.

“I thought you’d forget by now,” you chuckle.

The guy feigns offense, holding a hand to his chest. “Me? Forget about you? I see you think very highly of me, Y/N.”

Bambam rolls his eyes.

“Sure you aren’t just trying to dump all your responsibilities on me?” you pout. Bambam melts inside.

“Ha, you caught me!” the senior laughs, making you laugh too. It’s such a pretty ring to his ears, Bambam already knows he’ll be thinking about it for the next couple of weeks. “But you know I wouldn’t give it up to just anyone. It’s practically my baby.”

“That’s true,” you admit, chuckling, and then quieter, “You think I can do it?”

He put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. Bambam squeezes his fist.

“Not just doing it. I know you’ll be a great president,” he tells you confidently. Your ears go red, and if Bambam weren’t so focused on the hand on your shoulder, he would’ve found it very endearing.

“I don’t know, I just…” you pause nervously.

“Yo,” Mingyu breaks Bambam’s concentration. “2D?”

Bambam breaks into a smile, highfiving his friend as he takes the seat next to him. “2D!”

“Sweet!” Mingyu cheers, shoulders bumping against his playfully. “Kook’s with us too. It’s gonna be a wild year!”

Bambam laughs, shaking his head. “You guys are gonna get us kicked back a year.”

His friend whistles. “Girls are into older guys, Bam, it’ll be like one of those harem animes Kook loves so much!”

Bambam laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he glances back at the hand still on your shoulder. He hopes that’s not the case for you.

“It got cold,” Bambam musters as the two of you leave the restaurant.

You nod, looking up at the night sky. “Seems like winter doesn’t want to leave us yet.”

The two of you pause by the curb, in front of the valet.

“Are you sure you had a good time, Y/N? You barely touched your food.”

You look up in surprise. “Oh, I really did have a nice time, Bambam.”

He looks at you skeptically.

“The uh, the…gourdine?”

“Bouchée à la périgourdine?”

“Yeah, that!” you chuckle awkwardly. “That was delicious.”

Bambam still doesn’t believe you but you look uncomfortable, so he lets it go. Actually, you’ve been looking uncomfortable ever since you laid eyes on the menu. Most of his dates took advantage of his generosity, especially at a place like this—ordering the most expensive dishes and trying out all the wine. You though? You insisted on being full after the first course. When he asked you what your thoughts were on his favorite bottle of wine, you mumbled something incoherent as you tipped the entire glass down your throat. You only had water after that.

It was like you couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Maybe he had read things wrong. He thought you were at least interested in him too. The night of Mark’s fashion launch, the two of you had shared so many things—secrets, confessions, old memories and what he thought had been chemistry.

He glances over your way. You’re turned away from him, eyes watching the valet workers instead. You had admitted to hating him in the past. His stomach sinks at the thought that maybe you still do.

You shiver, pulling your cardigan closer to your chest. Bambam unwraps his scarf, holding out his hand for you to take it.

“Oh, I’m alright,”

He lets out a soft sigh before stepping in front of you.

“Do you maybe,” Bambam asks softly, placing his scarf gently around the nape of your neck. “I don’t know, it’s Friday, we could walk around or something or…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead biting on the tip of his tongue as he wraps the cashmere cloth securely around you.

Your fingers brush against his, just barely, but he feels it tenfold. “It’s getting late…”

Bambam tries not to look too hurt when he smiles back at you. “I’ll drive you home then.”

A week later, Bambam finds himself outside of your studio apartment. When you open the door, you’re wide-eyed and frozen like you’ve seen a ghost. In your defense though, Bambam doesn’t look like himself. He hasn’t ever since the night you left him at this exact spot last week.

Dark circles line his eyes and his newly dyed black hair only makes his complexion paler.

“Is everything okay, Bambam?” you ask finally.

He sighs, squeezing at the bridge of his nose. His gold frames lift at the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I probably should have called first.”

“Hey,” you place your palm gently on his arm. “Why don’t you come in first.”

Bambam lets you tug him inside like a lost puppy. His eyes travel around the room. Of course, he’s seen your place before in videos, but it’s different being here now. He doesn’t expect the smell of ginger and lemongrass to greet him. The longer he lingers, the more aware he becomes of the subtle scent of jasmine rice wafting in from the open kitchen. It’s comforting.

Your bedroom door is open, and he can see you’re working on a series of paintings. The canvases line your wooden floors in a haphazard row across the room.

You sit him down on your couch, a worn out burgundy but the geometric pattern is intricate despite its faded color. He lets his finger trail over a line while you poor him a cup of water.

“Your hair is black,” you break the silence.

“Oh,” he runs a hand through his hair like he is discovering this for the first time too. A faint pink colors his cheeks.

“I like it,” you smile softly. “It suits you.”

“Thanks,” he utters. His eyes trail down your hands. Your thumb smooths down your own cup of water repeatedly. Your fingers are speckled with green paint.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you chuckle softly to yourself. He looks at you in surprise.

“I like this new look,” you explain, eyes gesturing to his outfit. Today, Bambam is in a simple white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. Granted, the t-shirt is still Tom Ford, but you don’t know that. More noticeably though, is what he is not wearing, no sparkling diamonds around his neck, no Rolex on his wrist. Only a plain, silver ring adorns his right pinky. “So, why are you here, Bambam?”

He winces inwardly, reality setting in on him. Why is he here? Because the hair dye didn’t work? Because he agreed to too many projects in an attempt to keep busy but now he’s just tired and confused? Because Yugyeom pushed him out of the office and told him to figure things out?

Because no matter what he does, he keeps thinking about last week’s date and how you looked at him right before going inside—the mixture of disappointment and sadness in your eyes that felt like he had lost it all.

“Bambam?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

His question catches you off guard. “What? No, of course not.”

“You didn’t like the food,”

“The food was delicious.”

“Then it was me. I was boring.”

“Are you really Bambam? Where did all your confidence go?” you joke, lifting a brow.

His shoulders slouch. You make his confidence deplete like he is fourteen again. When he doesn’t say anything, you put your cup down onto the coffee table and look him in the eye.

“Hey, really, it had nothing to do with you Bambam, and everything to do with me.”

He chuckles dryly. “I don’t need a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ to soften the blow. You can give it to me straight.”

You look at him with a frown, lips threatening to jut into a pout and if Bambam weren’t about to get his heart crushed, he would’ve found your expression to be very adorable. Well, okay, that’s a lie, he still finds you very adorable right now.

“It’s really not you,” you purse your lips together, looking away. “I just…I was very out of place there, Bambam.”

“Wha-”

“I couldn’t pronounce half the menu,” you continue, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Or the wine.”

“But it tasted good?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, looking at him. “It was amazing, Bambam. But that one meal cost about half the month’s rent of this place!”

Bambam doesn’t mean to, but he laughs at your outburst. He is reminded of himself a few years ago when he first became friends with Jackson Wang, who gifted him a set of Cartier jewelry on his birthday.

When he sees your face, he immediately stops laughing. “Wait, I’m not laughing at you!”

“Yeah, sure,” you roll your eyes, but it’s a harmless gesture. Rising from your seat, you look at him, “Is that all you came here for?”

“Well, no.”

Your brows lift.

“There’s this event,” Bambam rushes, digging into the pocket of his jeans. “Actually, I was working on this mini documentary with this artist and he’s opening up a new exhibit this weekend.”

He raises the tickets tentatively towards you but freezes when your eyes bug out.

“Yoshitomo Nara?” You practically scream, falling back onto the couch right beside Bambam. You smell warm and sweet and the memory of the night you shared a few weeks ago flickers in the back of his mind.

“Yoshitomo Nara,” he confirms softly.

You frown his way, though it quickly turns into a smile, “Well, that’s just not fair. You know how much he means to me.”

“I do,” he smiles quietly.

“So you came here to bribe me?”

He laughs, “More or less. Is that a yes?”

You smile, thumbs smoothing over the tickets repeatedly.

“Jokes on you, Bambam. I would’ve said yes even without these tickets.”

Somehow, he doesn’t quite believe you, but you are giggling, and he has a date.

And that is all that matters.

Bambam sits nervously on a stool of the art studio, his fingers twisting the lens of an old DSLR he’s still not confident about using. From the elevated windows above, the pink evening sky illuminates. Everything about this moment seems picturesque. If Bambam could use his camera properly, he would’ve known.

But instead, the camera remains abandoned in his grasp as he stares in front of him where you stand in front of your easel mere meters away. It’s just the two of you. Everyone from both the photography and the painting club had gone home already. After seeing you continue to paint, Bambam had insisted on staying behind to practice with his camera more.

To be honest, he is hungry and could care less about photography, but he can’t find himself to go home.

“Hey,” you twist around and Bambam’s mind spins.

“H-hey,” he musters up, still unconvinced you’re talking to him.

He blinks owlishly at you, and then, his stomach growls. Loudly. His ears turn so red and he feels like he’s been set on fire, but you don’t even react.

“Mind if I play music?”

“Uh, yeah…that’s fine,” he answers you meekly, eyes diverting in embarrassment.

“Cool,” you reply nonchalantly, walking up to his side of the room where the speakers are. Plugging in your phone, the familiar tune of Defsoul’s music fills the studio. It takes Bambam a minute to get over his own mortification before the music reaches his ears and he perks up. But when he looks around the room, you are gone.

Alone now, Bambam finds the courage to get up from his seat and approaches your easel. The chair beside your easel is stacked with art books of Yoshitomo Nara. It seems you are doing a study. Just like the angry little girls on the cover of the art books, your easel holds a portrait of a little girl too. It is different though.

When he looks at the girl in your painting, he sees you. The little girl holds the ghost of a smirk beneath her scowl and her eyes glint with secrets of mischief, just like you. Without thinking, Bambam takes a step back and raises his camera.

“Like it?”

Bambam jumps in surprise, the flash of the camera going off before it slips from his hands entirely. Flustered, he rushes to bring the camera back into his grasp, thanking god he had kept the old leather strap around his neck.

You giggle softly, standing beside him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“It’s alright, I was just spacing out,” he mumbles sheepishly, eyes averting to the screen of his camera. You lean in, filling his senses with faint notes of your strawberry vanilla shampoo. “I’m still learning how to use the camera.”

“I like it,” you smile, looking up at him. “Can you send it to me?”

“I-really?” he looks at you surprised. Your painting isn’t in focus and off centered. The photo is not good, even Bambam knows it.

“Yeah, gives me album cover vibes,” you chuckle.

He snorts. “When is your mixtape dropping?”

You grin, raising a brow. “You never know what could happen in the future, Bambam.”

He shrugs, pretending not to melt at the sound of his name on your tongue. He didn’t think you’d remember him.

“Here,” you hand him a bag of cheese puffs before opening your own bag. “The vending machine popped out two.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Bambam walks back to his seat, gaze on your back again as you return to painting. He glances at the blurry photo on the screen of his camera and then slowly, he raises his camera once more, one eye squinting into the viewfinder.

Maybe photography isn’t so bad after all.

He snaps another photo. Click!

“Wait, this is a formal thing? Should I change?”

Bambam watches with amusement as you bounce nervously in front of his car. You are dressed in a plain pink tank top and matching satin wrap skirt. Of course, your classic cream cardigan drapes over you, and to his pleasure, so does his scarf from your last date.

“You look beautiful,” he reassures you.

You bite at your lip, unconvinced. “But you’re in a suit.”

“Okay, but when am I not?”

Your pout reluctantly turns into a smile and you huff, walking through the door he’s holding open for you, into the passenger’s seat. When he gets into the driver’s seat, you turn to him.

“When you’re wearing your designer gym clothes,” you smirk.

“Stop, you aren’t allowed to make jokes while I’m driving,” he laughs, pulling the car out of the driveway. “Also, tracksuits are still suits.”

Your giggles ring throughout the car.

When the two of you get to the venue, the place is already busy. The exhibition is part of the new contemporary art wing in the museum, which has been closed for the night for an intimate opening with select guests. Many of these guests are artist friends of Yoshitomo Nara, but even more are the wealthy collectors who are more than eager to call first dibs on the latest works. The only reason Bambam has been invited is because his mini documentary of the artist is playing on loop in one of the screening rooms.

While he loves art, these type of art scenes are not his thing. They’re a bit too stuffy for his taste and exactly why he dropped out of art school in the first place. But when he sees the way you seem to shrink into your cardigan as soon as you step into the gallery, he squares his shoulders and grabs hold of your hand.

You look surprised by his touch, but thankfully, you don’t pull away.

“You have to get used to these kinds of events, Y/N. You’ll be hosting them soon.”

You chuckle, glancing away. “Well, if I’m lucky, you’ll be hosting them.”

It’s his turn to blush now, but he pretends to be cool, pointing to the first painting to the right. “Shall we start here?”

You only grin, gripping his hand tighter. You seemed to get a little too much joy out of making him feel shy. Bambam can only sigh, quietly relishing in the warmth of your palm against his.

When you finally turn your attention to the paintings, the two of you look on in silence. Naturally, Bambam’s gaze falls onto you. There is a glimmer in your eyes, emotions passing through your features like its own movie. There is a lift of revelation in your brow, a scrunch of displeasure in your nose, the twitch of amusement on your lips.

Bambam fights the urge to take out his phone and record you. Instead, he follows after you, committing your profile to memory.

“Why do you like this guy so much?” he blurts out after passing a few paintings. You peel your eyes away to look at him in surprise, cheeks rosy.

“I-I don’t know, I’ve just loved his works since high school.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for the question to come out harsh. I was just curious, I mean, his art is really nice.”

You squeeze his hand, calming him. “I know. I guess I was just drawn to his characters. They’re cute, but rebellious and real. It’s charming.”

Bambam smiles. That’s how he feels about you.

“And it blurs the lines of what is fine art,” you go on, turning back to the painting in front of you. “Like right now, it is hanging in this museum, so it’s considered high end art, right? But this girl can easily be inside a children’s book, and his previous works have.”

You glance back at him, looking embarrassed after your spiel. “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t let you skirt over the topic though as he follows you to the next painting. “Is that why you dropped out of school?”

You sigh. “There were a lot of reasons. Maybe my skin wasn’t thick enough.”

“No, I get it,” he rubs his thumb across your skin. “I don’t like museums much, to be honest. I like the idea of them, but in reality, places like these only cater to the gatekeepers and the gatekeepers are just boring ass, tax-evading millionaires.”

You laugh, leaning into his chest as if that’ll rid you of the attention you’ve already gained around your corner of the room. Bambam ignores their stares, laughing along with you.

“Your art shouldn’t be jailed up in this stale room,” he adds, after your giggling subsides.

“But yours is,” you chuckle, making your way into the dark screening room.

Projected onto the wall is Yoshitomo Nara talking midsentence about his latest artworks. You take a seat on the bench before gesturing for Bambam to take a seat next to you.

“This is filmed beautifully,” you lean into him to whisper. The action makes him smile since you are the only two in this room, but if it’ll bring you closer, he doesn’t mind. “You’re really talented, Bambam.”

“I have a good team with me.”

“I always knew you’d make it big.”

He smiles quietly, watching as the glow of the video illuminated your face. You really did.

Yn_ig: This is amazing!

Bambam1a: Thx!

Bambam chucks his phone between his thighs before shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth to hide the smile spreading across his face. He pretends to laugh at something his brother said, though really, he’s twisting with glee because you just liked his latest post on Instagram. And you commented!

“Remember Bammie, this weekend you’re coming with me to…”

His phone dings and his mom’s voice fades into the background. Grabbing his phone, his stomach flips when he sees your handle name sending you a direct message. Ever since the beginning of junior year, he’s been talking to you over Instagram under the alias Muse_ig. It hadn’t been his intentions to deceive you. He was just nervous about talking to you online, but still wanted a way to support you. One comment on your art led to another and suddenly you were messaging him a thank you. Very quickly, that thank you turned into memes and inside jokes. Now, the two of you were talking to each other almost every night.

He clicks on the notification, nodding blankly to whatever his mom is saying.

Yn_ig: Hey! You said you liked photography, right? You should check him out. He’s my classmate. Really talented guy.

Bambam clutches his phone, trying to keep from jumping out of his seat when he sees you’ve sent his Instagram profile.

“Bammie, are you listening to me?” his mom looks at him pointedly.

He tries to school his expression, but joy floods his face anyways. And despite her tone, his mom smiles too.

“Whoever it is, she can wait. Put your phone away,” she teases, inciting laughter from all his siblings.

Bambam laughs it off goodheartedly, tucking his phone away. You think he’s really talented and nothing can diminish the high that this newfound knowledge brings him.

Well, nothing except, of course, you.

You see, when Bambam agreed to tagging along with his mom to her new friend’s house so she could introduce their daughter to him, he was expecting to spend a few awkward hours with some strangers. Maybe bond with said daughter over the awkwardness, but then he would go home and play video games and that would be that.

What he doesn’t expect is to greet you first thing at your doorway. He doesn’t expect to sit across from you during dinner. And he definitely doesn’t expect the glare you send him between each bite.

“You really are the prettiest thing!” His mother coos from across the table. “She definitely takes after you.”

“Oh, stop it,” your mom blushes, waving her spoon. “To think our kids already knew each other. This must be fate!”

“Hardly,” you mumble under your breath, but Bambam hears it. His heart breaks.

He can’t even blame you for it though. This dinner hasn’t exactly been easy for you. He remembers your late-night texts a few months ago and now all those self-deprecating comments make sense. Those words you were repeating? The I’m not good enough and I should just give up—They were never yours. It was your parents’.

“Bambam told me she’s one of the smartest in her grade!” his mom continues to compliment. He nods eagerly. Your frown only deepens as you poke at the asparagus on your plate.

“What good are all those As when all she does is doodle?” her mom laments, chuckling weakly. “We put all this money into her education but all she wants to do is draw.”

“Paintings,” Bambam musters. Both his and your mom look at him, surprised. He wipes his palms against his pants. In his peripheral, he knows you’re looking at him too, but he’s too afraid to look at you. “She paints, and she’s really good.”

There’s a pause and Bambam’s entire face heats up.

And then your mom breaks into a laugh. “And I heard you’re doing photography!”

His chest deflates and he nods meekly.

His mom laughs, hitting him on the back. “Unlike Y/N, Bammie here is terrible at studying. I really hope this hobby takes off.”

“Your mom showed me some of your photos, boy,” your father speaks up gruffly, pointing the steak knife his way. “Keep it up and you’ll earn yourself a free ticket to college.”

Bambam rubs at the nape of his neck, “I don’t know about that.”

“No really, there’s a scholarship, isn’t there, Y/N?” your father insists, looking at you.

You nod, putting down your fork. You look at your dad but it’s clear in your tone that you’re talking to him.

“It’s called the Artisan Award—a full scholarship to your art school of choice. It’s given to one graduating senior for their excellence in art across multiple disciplines—including photography. I’ll be applying to it next year.” You don’t even offer him a glance, focusing instead, on your glass of water.

“Well, you’ll be applying to a lot of scholarships,” your mom chuckles uneasily. “There’s still a year to think things through.”

“You should apply too,” your father adds, looking at him.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d be any good. Sounds competitive,” Bambam mumbles, glancing at you. You’re scowling down at your plate.

“Wouldn’t hurt to try though,” his mom cuts in, smiling at him. “What are the kids saying nowadays? Have to shoot your shot into the hoop?”

He smiles, pretending to grimace at his mom, making her laugh.

“While we’re at it, let’s apply to the athletic scholarships too,” she jokes.

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “First I have to make a shot into an actual hoop.”

His mom snorts, “It’s okay, if anything you can dropout and become a comedian! We’ve got options.”

The table breaks into laughter but when he glances your way, you are glaring at him.

“I still can’t believe you were Muse_ig this whole time. I dropped out because of you,” you giggle, a crumpled brown napkin in one hand while the other cradles a half-eaten slice of pizza. The two of you had stopped for a bite to eat next door to the museum.

“Hey, don’t blame me, I was just sending you encouraging messages. You made the decision,” Bambam whines, one cheek still stuffed full of pizza.

“Only because I had you feeding into my delusions!”

“You mean showing you your true worth?” he corrects.

You smile, leaning onto the table towards him. “Which ultimately pushed me to drop out.”

He sighs, “Okay, fine, you win. Please don’t tell your mom, though. She’ll hate me.”

“Impossible, she loves you.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way.”

You roll your eyes as Bambam finishes his last bite. Sitting in the pizzeria on a Saturday night amongst a crowd of college students from the local university, the two of you stand out like a sore thumb—Bambam, because of his tailored suit that’s probably the same price as some of these students’ tuition, and you, because, well, you’re you.

In his eyes at least, you always stand out. However, tonight, this is especially so. Unlike your first date, you are laughing and joking together. Maybe he should get pizza with you more often.

“This was nice,” you breathe out as you both step out of the pizzeria. When the restaurant doors close, the loud chatter muffles and is replaced by the quiet night breeze.

“So,” Bambam lets the word drawl sluggishly, not wanting the night to end, but he is reminded of the last date when you turned him down and hesitates to extend another offer.

“So,” you copy, voice soft as you start walking back towards the museum parking garage. “You never explained why you dropped out. Such a waste of a scholarship,” you tease.

“Ah, that…” Bambam stuffs his hands into the pockets of his pants.

You place a hesitant hand around the crook of his arm and his shoulders relax.

“If it’s a touchy subject, you don’t have to answer.”

He shakes his head, looking down at you. “No, it’s not.”

He opens the passenger door for you, helping you in before heading to his side.

“I guess I didn’t have tough skin either,” he chuckles softly, starting the car. “Some days it really did feel like being jailed inside an art museum. Photography didn’t feel the same without…”

His voice trails and his cheeks heat up. You look at him curiously but he’s too embarrassed to continue. Again, he is reminded by the fact that while you grew up together, the memories you share are quite different.

He glances at you and the way you smile at him is sweet. As if to say, it’s okay to not say anything more. But instead of being comforted, Bambam remembers the way you glared at him from across the dinner table as if it happened yesterday.

“I liked taking photos of the people I care about. I liked capturing moments that mattered…Feelings that…Art school just made me feel empty. I didn’t know why I was doing it anymore,” he finishes off quickly, looking away from you.

“I get that,” you smile weakly.

“But look at us now,” Bambam chuckles, lightening the mood. “We’re doing just fine on our own, aren’t we?”

You smile, glancing out the window. “Well, you are.”

“So are you! Aren’t you publishing a children’s book soon?” Bambam keeps his eyes on the road but her can see in his peripheral that you are looking at him in surprise.

“Did Mark…”

At the red light, he glances at you gently. “Your mom told mines. She brags about you when you aren’t around, you know.”

You frown, playing with the strap of the seatbelt.

“I know that’s her way of caring for me.” You finally say. “Sometimes, though, I wish she was more like your mom.”

“Well,” Bambam sends you a quick grin before turning back to the road. “If you marry me, my mom comes with the package too.”

You laugh. It rings throughout the car and sets his own heart at ease.

“You don’t have to bribe me with your mother, Bambam! If anything, I should be bribing you.”

“I’ll take it!”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Whatever the bribe is, I’ll take it. Think City Hall is still open?”

You shake your head, giggling softly. “I still don’t get you.”

“What’s there to get?”

You hum thoughtfully. “A young bachelor like you so eager to marry and me of all people? Who’s holding you against your will?”

At the next red light, Bambam steels himself and turns to you, eyes steady on yours.

“I like you. A lot. For a while now.”

Despite the dimly lit night, he can see you flush. Your fingers clutch the ends of your cardigan sleeves, a nervous habit.

When you don’t say anything, he continues. “I know your parents kind of forced you into this, but that’s not the case for me. Maybe I’m coming on too strong, This marriage arrangement thing…I get that it’s unnatural. I wish I could’ve gone about this differently, but we’re here now and I’m ready. I know you’re probably not and that’s okay, I get it. But I’m interested, I want to date, I want to go through the whole process with you. Slowly, at our own pace, and if I’m not a good fit…then that’s okay too. But I want to at least try.”

The light turns green and reluctantly, he looks away. The rest of the drive to your place is quiet. When he parks outside your apartment, he smiles as if your silence isn’t eating him alive.

“I had a really nice time, Y/N. I’m glad you came with me tonight.”

“Me too,” you reply, almost a whisper.

When you don’t say anything more, he gets out of the car and walks to your side, helping you with the door. But you don’t get up from your seat.

Instead, you turn to him, eyes staring up at him nervously.

“I like you too.”

It is soft, but his whole chest shakes. Bambam breaks into a smile of joy and relief.

He takes hold of your hand, helping you out of the car. His fingers linger, brushing softly against the tips of yours, and you smile.

“Then, I’ll see you next week at your family dinner?” he asks quietly.

You nod tentatively. You purse your lips, cheeks dimpling shyly. His heart skips as you linger, eyes shimmering under the streetlamp.

And then you lean into him, fingers clutching his and you tiptoe.

It is a fleeting touch—light and feathery on his lips—and then he blinks and you’re stepping away again.

“Night, Bambam.”

“N-night!”

He stays for ten minutes longer, waiting for the light of your apartment to flicker on, his lips still buzzing from your kiss.

Bambam’s lips sting from how much he’s been nervously biting them, the high from last week’s date now a fleeting memory. He sits at your parents’ dinner table across from you and it feels like déjà vu.

His mom laughs loudly next to him. Someone made a joke or something.

He doesn’t hear it. All he can see is the growing scowl on your face. Whatever feelings you had for him last week seem to be long gone if your expression is anything to go by.

Your mom swirls her glass of wine, leaning into his mom warmly. “When you told me you wanted my daughter to be your daughter-in-law—my daughter, for your Bambam!—I almost fainted!”

“What are you talking about? The minute I saw Y/N, I fell in love at first sight! I’m pretty sure it was the same for Bammie too.”

Bambam flushes, stuffing his cheeks with salad.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” his mom nudges him teasingly and he almost chokes but he nods adamantly towards you.

“You two are so humble,” your dad chuckles.

Your mom seems to nod in agreement. “I’m sure Bambam can find better options out there.”

“Y/N has one good trait though,” your dad adds, laughing. “She won’t cause any trouble as far as the love department goes.”

“Oh, don’t get me started, this girl is so stubborn!” your mom starts up again, waving her spoon accusingly at you. “Always work, work, work with my daughter. It’s all she cares about.”

“Oh, Bammie’s the same,” his mom cuts in, smiling amiably at you. “It’s the younger generation these days. Married to their work so to speak.”

“Bambam’s got a good head on him,” you father nods to him gruffly. “There’s a difference between working hard and working smart.”

“Unfortunately, she’s only good at working hard,” your mother sighs.

Bambam swallows thickly, gaze fixed on your expression. You’ve been chewing on the inside of your cheek since dinner started. He can see the tick in your jaw every time your parents say something mean your way.

At first, you managed to fake a few polite smiles, but now your head was fully down as you played with the rice on your plate.

“I like Y/N’s work ethic,” he finally speaks up. You finally look at him, eyes unreadable. “It’s hard work that brings talent to fruition and Y/N has both.”

Your gaze lingers on him.

“If we’re talking about talent though, we have to talk about your business!” Your mom breaks the air and the ghost of your smile completely vanishes from your face. You don’t look at him for the rest of dinner.

“Ready for dessert?” your mom asks after everyone was done eating.

You scoot your chair, rising from your seat. “Actually, I’m not feeling so well.”

“Oh, are you okay sweetheart?” his mother asks.

You smile apologetically, “So sorry to have to leave first.”

“Of course, honey! Bammie, why don’t you bring her home?”

“Oh no, that’s alright.”

“No, no, let me.” Bambam rises from his seat and takes hold of your hand. He gives you an encouraging squeeze. “Thank you for the meal! I’ll get her home safely.”

When you exit the house, you slip your hand from his. He pretends not to notice, leading you to his car quietly.

“Congratulations to our one and only Bambam for winning the Artisan Award, one of the most prestigious art scholarships in the nation.”

The morning announcement rings in his ears and his homeroom bursts in a parade of cheers and congratulations, but his heart lurches and he thinks of you.

He is reminded of the hours you spent afterschool every day in the art studio, working on pieces for your portfolio. He thinks of all the different art programs you attended during school holidays. He remembers your mother’s voice and the way you’d repeat those words during your late-night Instagram messages.

When he sees you at the bus stop immediately after school instead of in the studio, he almost turns the other way, but your eyes meet his and goes to stand next to you instead. You only give him a slight nod before returning to your phone.

It feels like a long time before the bus arrives.

You sit where you always do, near the back, beside the window. He takes the row of seats across from you.

His stomach twists with guilt when he watches your profile. You can probably feel his stare, but you continue to look straight ahead anyways. You’re probably trying hard to look unbothered, but he can see your disappointment clearly. There’s a slouch in your shoulders, a faint frown tilting the edges of your lips.

You are disappointed and probably dislike him right now.

He wonders if you’ll tell him about this over Instagram. He doesn’t know if Muse_ig will be able to console you this time around. He wishes he had the right words to say, but his throat constricts instead.

When your stop arrives, his eyes follow your back as you stand at the door and he beats himself up for having stayed quiet. And when the bus creeps to stop, you hesitate, before turning back to him.

“Congrats, by the way,” you offer him a small smile. “You deserved it.”

You step off the bus before he can say anything back.

You take a different route home for the rest of the school year.

At the red light, Bambam looks over at you. You continue looking straight ahead. There’s a sadness beneath your schooled expression, he can feel this in his gut, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Y/N,” he starts hesitantly.

“The light’s green,” you interrupt.

He turns his attention back to the room. His gut clenches.

“Cupcake!” he blurts, gripping the wheel.

Your head turns abruptly. “What?”

“C-Cupcake, my cat,” he continues, not quite sure where he’s going with this. “You met her last time.”

After a pause, you reply back, “Yeah, I did.”

“I gave her a haircut. A really bad one. She had a bald spot, so I had to bring her to the groomers to get it fixed,” he rambles. “They tried their best, but she looks really awful right now. It’s pretty funny actually.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Poor Cupcake.”

He glances at you briefly, his chest fluttering at the sight of your smile again. “You wanna go see my cats? I heard petting cats is therapeutic, although, not much to pet right now.”

Finally, you laugh.

“Sure, why not.”

When you finally get to his place, he knows he said the right thing. You sit on his couch, surrounded by his cats and a soft smile on your face.

“Awful, isn’t it?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. King jumps into his lap and he scoots closer to you.

“Absolutely terrible,” you chuckle, petting Cupcake gently.

“But you’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

You let out a quiet sigh.

“Bambam,” you look at him and his heart drops. “Maybe we should just stop this.”

“Fourteen!”

Your brows arch. “You really need to stop saying things without context.”

He puts King aside and grabs hold of your hand like a lifeline.

“I was fourteen. You mouthed my name on the first day of school. That’s when I started liking you.”

You blink up at him in surprise.

“The painting and photography club had to share the same classroom and I knew you just became the president. I did my brother’s chores for three weeks just so I could borrow his old camera,” he looks at you nervously. “I wasn’t planning on falling for photography. You’re the reason I’m where I’m at today.”

“Y-you’re giving me too much credit.”

He holds your hands tighter, shaking his head.

“Your parents have a screwed-up way of measuring your worth, but I don’t care about your job or how famous you are. I care about the girl who mouthed my name and made me feel special. You’ve always been kind to me, taking me seriously when no one else in our grade did. You were the first person to like my photos and you’ve always encouraged me, even though it came at the cost of your own feelings.” He looks at you seriously, “But it shouldn’t. I don’t want to compete against you, Y/N. I want to be on your side.”

“On my side?” you repeat, looking at your intertwined fingers.

“On your side, by your side,” he whispers. “You’re my muse, my first love, first heartbreak. I’d like you to be my last everything too.”

There’s a pause and his chest aches from the silence.

But then he sees it.

Your dimpled cheek.

“So, you had a crush on me since high school?”

He huffs. “That’s what you got from all that?”

You answer with a giggle, dimpled cheeks and very soft lips on his.

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #bambam #fluff #fanfic #marriage life au

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