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kyberphilosopher · 4 years ago

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Oʀᴏᴛᴜɴᴅ

Requested?: Yes. Contains allusions to sex and illness, non graphic.

Word Count: 3301

Eren has disappeared beyond the walls, finding refuge with a sick ex-soldier.

Orotund: (adj.*) speaking or singing with fullness, clarity, or strength of song or voice.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sickness had spread slowly, but surely.

You couldn’t tell where you had gotten it from. At first, you had assumed it was simply an intensified version of the flu. However, the longer you took care of yourself, the more you realized that this was far worse.

Dividing the time into five stages, you began keeping note of what was happening to you during Stage Two. During Stage One, you began to experience relatively short periods of a fever. They’d usually last for days at a time, with you lying in bed draping a wet rag on your forehead. So intense, you could not even get up to urinate or eat, it was difficult not to feel pathetic.

Stage Two had made the fever die down. You were more than thankful for this, of course, but it had come with it’s own crashing, crushing waves. Stage Two had begun to make you lose weight at a rapid and inexplicable pace. You often frowned at yourself in the mirror, observing how your torso was slimming and shaping around the form of your ribs. It came before the loss of appetite, which only made matters that much worse.

Stage Three, during which you had met him, was strange. It didn’t directly cause any physical changes to you, but it did indirectly. You grew restless in the night, and exhausted during the day. Riddled with fatigue, the daily chores you relied on for life became troublesome. Drawing water from the well strained your back, and because of what Stage Two had done to your stomach, you lacked the energy needed to keep yourself upright.

One day, in whatever season it had been, you returned to your cabin to find a stranger inside. Instantly on sight, your pail of drinking water fell from your fingers and splashed against the wooden floors. Your boots and socks were soaked. The knocking of wood against wood made your ears ring as if a bomb had gone off.

The boy was still, but his eyes were somewhat wide as if he was also surprised. He must not have considered someone was already living in the cabin. Yet, he was sitting at your dining table, watching you with open eyes and open ears.

Before you could scold, yelp, or simply say hello, you collapse over. The fatigue overpowers you and you crash against your counter in a heap.

The boy leapt forward on instinct. His right arm wrapped around your back to steady you somewhat, his left hand gripping onto your other shoulder. It didn’t help you too much, as your ankle was already rolling out from under you, but it did keep you from hitting the floor completely. Thus, the boy had at least saved you a head injury.

“My room,” you croaked with hazy eyes. The hand attached to the arm over his back weakly pointed in the direction of your bedroom. It wasn’t too far away. You were lucky that he craned his head to see where you were gesturing to, and understood. “I have to get to... my room...”

“Right,” the boy replied.

He hoisted you up, the both of you grunt quietly in unison. And then he practically dragged you across the floorplan of your home, stumbling and groaning all the way. The boy let you drop into your bed on your own, partially kicking him in the process.

You hum out a sigh of relief. Your head is immediately alleviating itself, and the room is ceasing to spin so quickly. The boy is confused as to the lack of yelling or anger. Instead, he is enthralled with the calm, tired, demeanor of your form. He’d broken into your cabin, eaten your food, and you hadn’t even looked mad. In fact, you looked almost sickly.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Stage Four brought depression. Yes, you already had that. But now your sickness was piling onto the chemical imbalances, adding to the lack of calories, nutrients, and sleep. Whatever strength you had before was dwindling away faster than before, although this time, things were different.

The strangers name was Eren. Eren Jaeger. He had large, piercing teal eyes, bold eyebrows, and dark hair. At the time of your meeting, it was the length of his shoulders. His palms were wrapped in gauze at the time, but it wasn’t permanent. He’d since removed them, and helped you work.

Eren was strong. He could repair things that were broken around the cabin and help you with the well upkeep. Sometimes he would go hunting and bring home venison or herbs for you, which was kind. He didn’t ask for much in return, other than you not tell anyone of his presence. Not like you had anyone to tell anyways.

Eren gave you a ride on his Titan once or twice too. That was something you loved. You were scared at first, but Eren didn’t let anything happen to you. He would lift you up in the palm of his hand so you could reach the fruits at the top of the tallest of trees. Then you’d go home and slice the fruit up for him in a small bowl.

He slept on the bench in the living room. You’d felt particularly guilty about that part, but your weak body needed all the relaxation it could get. Eren knew that, and he never forced you to share or give more than was even remotely necessary. Really, Eren was quiet most days. He seemed to do a great bit of brooding, but you’d grown accustomed to the presence of another human being, and thus, warmth. And Eren liked you. You weren’t obsessive, didn’t yell for the way he cleaned, didn’t rip up his clothes, or remind him of a fading dream.

Time blurs together when you’re living on your own in the middle of nowhere, but the boy was with you for more than two months, at least. He figured out that you were sick in that span of time, including that you didn’t deserve to be. There wasn’t much around your cabin to suggest much of past life. Eren didn’t blame you. That’s why he stayed in the cabin as well- hoping to leave the past for a blank space.

You took care of each other. Your favorite example was on a morning in Spring.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Eren wore a simple brown cloak. No shirt underneath, giving you a much appreciated view of the boys abdominal muscles. Though, you’d probably never get the opportunity to admit you found the boy physically appealing, you took it in. His hair was back in a bun today. The sun broke over the horizon, illuminating his eyes.

Jaeger held your horse by the reigns. His right bare foot was rubbing against his left shin, tired as the horse began to excrete last nights meal. Eren must’ve gotten up earlier than usual this morning for chores, because the circles under his eyes seemed more prominent. Not that it specifically mattered. He looked handsome all the same. You appreciated the view for a few minutes before starting towards the well.

First, you set the bucket on the earth where the water is sure to fall. Then, you place both hands on the pump, digging your feet into the ground for leverage. Stage Four has made you weaker than most people. This will take a lot out of you.

Pushing down, it takes all of your strength to get a single pump of water into the pail. It’s not enough, and sweat is already beading at your forehead. It’s not even hot yet, and something mediocre is nearing you close to death. Your heart strains against your chest, but you ignore it. You have to get the water.

You push down a second time. Now, the container is half full of the clear stuff. It ripples in the light of the sun like a rainbow. Your head feels like it’s on fire. A slow, dull fire. You have to push a third...

With a final great heave, your blistered hands scrape against the contraption. The water gushes out like a miracle, filling the bucket again. So crisp it makes your mouth water, you kneel to the ground to catch your breath.

Stop, your heart begs. Stop. Rest. But the responsibility is staring you dead in the eyes, and you can’t ignore it. And you can’t ask Eren to go a day without water. He deserves it. For Eren’s sake, you must do this.

Although your world is dizzy, you push yourself to your feet. Your blistered fingers wrap around the handle, ready to pick it off the ground without issue. However, water buckets are heavy. There is nothing you can do but struggle to raise it off the ground, tears and sweat pricking at the corners of your eyes and goosebumps appearing at your arms. It’s not even really that chilly.

Eren was like a God sent. You didn’t fully hear what he said to you, but you felt his arms slide around you to lift you up. “Y/N, do you hear me? You have to stand, alright?” You hadn’t replied.

Jaeger connected the dots. With one half of his body, he leveraged you up and to your feet. With the other, he grabbed the pail of water and began moving forward.

It was slow with you practically slumped against him, but he was a soldier. Eren wasn’t about to just let you drop in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn’t let you succumb to your illness that easily, if he let you succumb to anything at all.

Eren set you on your bed. You had a fever, so he laid a wet cloth across your forehead. He stripped you down to your undergarments as respectfully as one could, laying two more rags on your forearms for extra help. Then he drew you a bath, knowing the water would be cold for your lingering fever. He never asked for anything in return.

But, he had set a hand against your shoulder. His thumb ran in soft circles against your hot skin, a comforting, loving gesture. You could feel his long hair brush against your chest as he leaned down to make sure your heart was still beating. Aside from a slight palpitation, it seemed in working order.

His brushing thumb lingered a moment longer before he let you rest. Even in sleep, you missed it. You wouldn’t forget this.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This leads us into the final Stage. Stage 5. The one where you die at the end.

“Eren,” you call out softly, watching the curtain windows sheer in the sunlight.

In response, the boy bows his head to look down at you. His eyes are calm, but bright as always. His hair is half up, half down. Laying between his thighs comfortably, your stomach rumbles from hunger. Despite this, things are quiet.

“Yes?” he replies.

You swallow dryly. Then you reveal your desire. “Do you sing?”

His right hand comes to rest on your forehead. Yes, you have the fever again. But Eren knows you are in the right mind. His thumb strokes your temple, catching a few wisps of your hair as he does so.

“Not well,” he answers with the ghost of a smile. “You want me to sing to you?”

You shift, and one of your hand grazes by his knee. “Maybe,” you tease back. Then you frown. “You seem tired today.”

Eren exhales. His right hand lays against your forehead, a mix of concern and something like affection.

“Is it the Attack Titan?” you continue, gazing up at him through soft lashes.

It was. Eren’s history- the worlds history- was churning around his mind until it seemed like a bunch of mush. You were the only thing that was clear to him at this point. But you were silent. Calm, compared to everything else in the universe.

“No,” Eren decides to assure light heartedly. His thumb begins to circle around your sticky skin in the little way that it does. “It’s nothing.”

Silence again.

The warm breeze brushes against the window outside, but it’s not loud. It’s warm from the light of the sun, and the hills of emerald grass span for miles ahead. The sky is as blue as the birds that soar across it. Serene. That was how you would describe the life you currently lead. And blessed be you for leading it as peacefully and quietly as the loud and complicated world would allow.

“I think I’m going to die soon.”

The quiet was broken with another fracture of quiet. Eren’s heart gave a great, vibrating beat, and then paused. In contrast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d heard your heart beat.

All the violent death he’d seen, just for you to die of an unknown illness?

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You knew you were going to die at the end. You knew it for a fact. You’d just gotten lucky.

Lucky, you think as you look up at the man above you. Yeah, I’m lucky.

His pacing is held back for fear of hurting you. His long, dark hair sways back and forth in time with his thrusts. His face is contorted, mixed with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure and determination. There’s a little clear, slick spot on the corner of his lips. It slips from between, drips down his chin, and onto your abdomen. Eren wants to apologize, but his teeth are gritted together and he doesn’t want to embarrass either of you with shaky words.

You don’t mind. There’s no need for Eren to apologize. Eren is and always has been a sight for sore eyes, especially for you. And, blessings onto your own soul, you’re getting more butterflies from knowing he’s one of the last things you’ll see and feel than what he’s doing with you.

Your eyes are glued to his. What color are they? Emerald, like the grass? Blue, like the sky? Could they be teal? Yes, that must be it. Though, sometimes you swear they’re gold instead.

Lucky.

You both end up finishing. He keeps himself from collapsing on top of you before asking if you’ll be alright if he bathes. You assure him it’s more than okay as he rubs his thumb over your temple. Some people might be upset at their partner for leaving after what you’ve done, but you understood. Physical contact is hard for soldiers. You know. But Eren promises he’ll be back silently, because he feels guilty about it.

If you had a bit longer, maybe this wouldn’t be the only time you and the boy could do this. Actually, what had even led to it? What had taken it this long? You’d had dinner. The light from the candles came on, and you’d met his gaze. The rest was all steam and blurs.

When your living mate returns, your back is facing from him. You’re watching the fresh drops of rain crash against the window, falling from under a dark grey cast. There will be a thunderstorm tonight. You wonder if Eren will want to stay in your bed tonight, or if he’ll insist on taking the bench.

You feel his hands, previously burning hot, touch your shoulder, now ice cold. The mattress dips under his weight behind you, and then you feel his toned torso flush against you.

His face brushes against your ear so you can hear him speak softly. “I’m sorry if I took too long,” Eren mutters. A few wisps of hair brush against your jaw, but he’s tied it back now.

In one fluid motion, a hand of your own comes to stroke at his cheek. “You didn’t.”

His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, before he pulls away to put his face in the back of your neck. His hand remains around you tight, so you know he wants you right where you are.

You didn’t tell Eren that your time was practically numbered. Maybe it would be weeks, days, or hours. You should’ve told him before you let him inside you, but you’d been a bit distracted. Anxious, too. The moment was worth ruining with something so silly and small. But now it’s done. The only sounds echoing around the cabin is the pitter pattering of the rain, and the oncoming onslaught of booming thunder.

You have to tell him, you say to yourself as his grip on you tightens. Before he tugs your body closer like a lover again.

Before you can speak, Eren mumbles something against the skin of your neck. “Follow my lead.”

What?

He hums for a few seconds. At first, you think it’s just the hum of insanity, random and undefined. The you realize the changes in pitch are too thought out to be random. It’s a song.

“...always picking a fight with me...”

It feels hazy, far away. Sort of heavenly. Even with his low, muffled voice, it’s easy to hear the musical tones oozing from the whole thing.

“...you know I’m bad, but you’re still spending the night with me.”

That line feels more like he’s speaking it into you. It’s personal.

“...what do you want from my world?”

If you had it your way, or his way, there wouldn’t be anybody else but the two of you and your cabin. Still, this also feels like a genuine question. Maybe it is.

There’s a dry kiss placed against your shoulder blade before Eren continues the tune. Humming. And then, “...every night I’m out... killin’, send everyone runnin'...”

Eren pulls you closer against him and inhales somewhat sharply. You crane your neck deeper into the pillow, silently wishing that you could feel his swollen lips against it.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he sings, a bit clearer now. “I have demon eyes.”

Eren’s hand creeps up from your shoulder to your throat, able to choke you if he so wanted. His thumb strokes over your Adam’s apple instead. Eren grants your wish, raising his face so his lips brush over the skin by your jaw instead of the back of your head. A soft kiss is pressed to the area, almost as if he was nervous.

“...they’re looking right through your anatomy...”, he seems to nuzzle against you lightly, though that feels somewhat out of character. “...your deepest fears, I’m not from here...”

Like before, he pushes his head back into your hair. He groans like he’s stretching before going on.

“...to me, you’re clear... transparent. You have a thing for me... it’s apparent...”

The rain is falling harder now.

“...you’re not so bad...”

Eren isn’t bad at all. He sighs against you, his fingers stroking your skin gently.

“...it’s not something I have to try... oh, for the table, as long as I am able... I’m not trying to be bad.”

I’m going to die soon, Eren.

“No... different.”

He doesn’t continue. Only his thumb continues on, circling round and round in an unknowing attempt to express comfort.

“I thought you said you didn’t sing well,” you whisper into the darkness.

“I don’t,” he speaks against you.

What a liar. And you, the lucky one for knowing the truth.

Eren doesn’t move positions until you’ve fallen asleep, at which point he eventually turns his back to you in his own slumber. And Eren knew that you were sick, but he also knew that you were capable.

You weren’t breathing when he woke up.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I guess that’s that. I think I like it but I’m not sure about the ending. Mine aren’t usually so simple. Maybe I should’ve made it less depressing. Eh.

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theinfinitybucky · 4 years ago

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Undercovers (Bucky Barnes x Reader) - Part 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are on an undercover mission as husband and wife, but she hates him and by accident begins a game of “Who Can Fake Better”.

Warnings: none?

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

You sat at the dinner table uncomfortably, eating the shitty hotel served food. What kind of an extravagant hotel was this if the meal was this mediocre? They had a orchestra for this thing, but the food was subpar? Some show. You glanced to Bucky who seemed to have no complaints about the food. Of course, he was practically starved when he was the Winter Soldier. A pang ran through the center of your heart as the though crossed your mind.

The man who sat before you was nothing like the “person” you had met months ago… Before Wakanda, before everything… Before those horrific interactions began. Prior to the days, you had gone at each other in the training room until one of you was bleeding on the floor. Why did it have to turn out this way?

You were staring off into the distance with these thoughts running through your mind when Bucky pinched your knee hard. You jumped for a second and remembered the predicament that found both of you together.

Your target sat across from Bucky at the circular table. You tried to pick out the words he was saying to his childhood friend, Eric. It would only be a few days until he would exchange the nuclear hacking codes with Marcus. You stared at your target with an unrelenting glare. Marcus did not notice your eyes or the way you listened to every intel-less word he said. This monotonous dinner was far worse than any preceding mission you had taken part in.

Bucky’s eyes met your own bored glance. He looked more enthused with the predicament than you, entertained one may say. You noted that he had not removed his hand from your knee since pinching you. It would be too blatant to throw it off with the businesswoman situated too closely to your right. This many people in a room was unsettling to people like you and Bucky. People who lurked in the shadows and made the best of nightmares that plagued some’s dreams. You were the nightmares that they whispered about to children who stopped sleeping for weeks.

You were about to break the unbearable silence between you and Bucky about how you hoped the dinner would end soon when your target spoke up. He called your “name” and you thankfully tore your locked eyes from Bucky to the target.

“Sarah,” the name rolled off his tongue. “What is your work? I know all of us here work for Biotelligence Incorporated, but what about you?”

The question called you at like a gunshot into the dark abyss of night. Think on your feet. You attempted to create a story quickly even though you had studied your profile for hours, this was not part of it.

You had begun to speak, “I-.”

Bucky cut your words short, “She is a pharmaceutical representative for Biotelligence’s sister company Wellness Core. She is very good at what she does.”

“As good as anyone can get at selling drugs that don’t work.” You lied skillfully in hopes of dropping a line for a more serious subject. Smalltalk being the bane of your existence. Bucky smirked at the response.

“Interesting.” Marcus purred simply. “I’m surprised I’ve never met either of you before.”

Bucky’s eyes were widening because he knew that your cover was about to be blow. His hand reaching slowly into his jacket as if he was pulling out a handkerchief. Below the fabrics, a handgun waiting in hopes of not being used.

You waited to reach for your own gun with an attempt at another well-kept lie. “Well, I’m just a contract worker and my husband was just added to Wellness Core’s board of directors last week. I’m very proud of him.” You gazed into Bucky’s eyes for a moment, trying to make that connection which couldn’t be faked. His look warned of troubled waters ahead. Bucky took your hand in his own and gave it a soft squeeze. A fire raged in your heart from the touch.

“I haven’t met with the Wellness Core board lately. I can’t wait to see you at the next meeting.” Marcus leered.

“Of course, Marcus.” Bucky’s voice rang softly off into the crowded room.

The orchestra began playing a slower song. Bucky’s eyes drifted to the dance floor where couples were beginning to wander. The perfect escape for the cover to not be blown. You’d finished dinner a long while ago and now were only sipping on the middle grade wine.

“Sarah, would you like to dance?” Bucky offered you a hand.

“Of course, Christopher.” You slipped your hand in his and he stood to lead you to the dance floor; Marcus deserted at the table without any more questions for you.

Bucky took you to the floor and wrapped his arm gently around your waist, your hand finding his bicep with the other still resting in his. You had always hated dancing, it forced you to look into someone’s eyes with no escape for elsewhere. Looking into Bucky’s eyes was the last thing you wanted to be doing. Here you were, nonetheless, staring in his ocean blue eyes.

“We’re in trouble.” You muttered as soon as both of you were out of earshot.

“Perhaps. There is a way to ensure we aren’t.” Bucky leaned in a smidge closer as you danced slowly.

“And what is that?” You raised an eyebrow.

His plans were usually terrible or so archaic it pained you to be part of them. Before you could begin to protest, he sealed his lips to your own. Your hand fell out of his as he deepened the kiss. You were shocked by the intensity of his kiss. His tongue brushing up against your lips, sending a euphoria through your body. His arm wrapped tightly around your back, forcing you to lean back. Your knees were about to begin going weak when he pulled away. He moved your hair away from your face with his hand lingering on your jawline for a second.

He knew what he’d just done to you as your foreheads still leaned together. That unbreakable connection which had just been established. He had to know how hard it would be to hate him after a kiss like that. You tried to catch your breath quickly as if he hadn’t just stolen all the air in your lungs. He held a hand in between the two of you. You took it without a second though, unsure of where it would lead you to. Bucky pulled you away from the dance floor and towards the exit. You would not be returning to your table with Marcus tonight. You did not even need to look back to know that your cover was clear.

Thank you for reading. Please give a like, reply, follow or reblog for more content in the future. Also, you can request to be added to the tag list! I also am taking one shot requests go ahead and send your idea in to see it brought to life!

Part Five

Tag List: @steveharrigntons @thebadassbitchqueen @farfromjustordinary @mela-noche @sstanbarnes @justab-eautifulmess @spideyycents @furiouscopshepherduniversity

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #undercovers #Undercover AU #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes self insert #self insert #marvel #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #mine

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dangermousie · 4 years ago

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2020 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2020; if I had to make a post about all the cdramas I watched this year, I would still be doing it in three months...

Overall it’s been a fairly decent cdrama year (certainly better than the very lacklustre kdrama year.) It’s no miracle that 2019 was (so many excellent dramas!) but overall pretty solid.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

44 The Legend of Jing Yan - the worst cdrama I have seen this year, and possibly the worst drama of 2020, period. The hero and heroine were both uncharismatic, incapable of acting and saddled with such shrilly moronic characters, the only suspense was how they haven’t both perished long since from forgetting to breathe. Nor was anyone in the rest of the cast much better; the screenplay was written by a lower mammal and the cinematography was the best a third-rate wedding cinematographer could offer. Stay the HELL away from this one.

43 Unicorn Girl - the only unicorn about this bland yet irritating piece of pap was the fact that I was supposed to believe the leads are hockey players.

42 Autumn Cicada - I like spy stories, Allen Ren, and Republican Era settings. I can tune out Communist propaganda with the best of them. Yet, the propaganda ate the story to such a degree that there was nothing left; pre magic change Pinocchio was less wooden then this narrative.

41 You Complete Me - no you do not.

40 Skate into Love - the only positive thing I can say about this is that at least it’s better than Unicorn Girl, if for no other reason that only one of them is supposed to be a hockey player.

39 Irreplaceable Love - how do you make a story about fake siblings with a mad mother falling for each other boring? I don’t know, ask the makers of this.

38 Eternal Love Rain - I hate to rain on their parade, but these two actors cannot act, have about as much chemistry as a piece of bread, and are trapped in a story perfect for entertaining the mental abilities of the leads of Jin Yan.

37 For Married Doctoress - ummmm, you could do worse I guess. It only made me break out in mild hives. The sadistic ending did make me laugh though.

36 Dance of the Sky Empire - why you get Xu Kai and waste him in this insipid mess of a story is beyond me.

35 Love Designer - it’s inoffensive except to my sense of entertainment. There is nothing wrong with it but oh God is it bland.

34 Love a Lifetime - It felt like a lifetime watching this, but I didn’t love it. The story is incoherent, the actors have no chemistry and it’s all an epic waste of time.

33 Love is Sweet - so sweet it gave me diabetes. I like Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu, but there is literally no plot. I don’t need to sink into a plotless morass to watch pretty people engage in PG-rated make-outs. I am an adult with access to stronger stuff if I am thus inclined, though to be fair they could get x-rated and I still wouldn’t be able to sit through so many episodes of plotlessness for that.

32 Fake Princess - I love Zhao Yi Qin, but the guy needs to pick better projects. The female lead in this one has the voice and personality that can strip paint but the story is also doing nobody any favors.

31 The Changan Youth - I lost my brain checking this out. I had to go and read a dense treatise on medieval coinage or Mayan farming to try to recover it.

30 My Dear Destiny - kinda cheesy fun. It honestly shouldn’t be as low except it really feels like community theater.

29 Handsome Siblings - why is the Nic Tse version so good and this one so bad? True mystery for the ages. Chen Zhe Yuan is the sole reason this isn’t lower, because that kid tries SO HARD to make this drama bearable and almost succeeds. I can’t wait to see him in Sha Po Lang which actually will give him something to do.

28 In a Class of Her Own - see my comment on The Changan Youth. But at least Song Weilong is gorgeous to look at.

27 General’s Lady - inoffensive, pretty and so utterly pointless.

26 The Blooms at Ruyi Pavilion - those two leading actors are a no go to me but at least they considerately acted with each other instead of ruining two dramas for me. It’s very pretty though.

25 Jiu Liu Overlord - it’s a mess and I bailed, but I placed it this high merely due to the fact that Lai Yi finally gets a leading role and he’s sexy as fuck and I am shallow. Whoever styled Bai Lu should never work again except at a circus, however.

24 Cross Fire - not my genre and Luhan will always look too much like my cousin for comfort, but it’s a surprisingly gripping and dark drama. I liked it!

23 God of Lost Fantasy - if you want to watch a mediocre wuxia/xianxia, this is not a bad choice. Probably better than Legend of Fei actually, because at least it doesn’t have an A-list cast to waste and gives us Sheng Yilun himbo and shirtless.

22 Renascence - the insane cuts (it went from 70 eps to 36!!!) made a fairly cheesy story into a total mess. But I had a good time until I finally bailed mainly because of the male lead (Chen Zhe Yuan yet again carrying a not-good 2020 drama on his shoulders; the guy should be nicknamed Atlas) and the insane but in a fun way story. The female lead (both the character and the actress) were not up to par but oh well.

21 Legend of Fei - only this high because objectively there is nothing I disliked it. But there is nothing I liked either. The most uninspired drama on the list. If you could eat cardboard, this is what it would taste like.

20 Ever Night 2 - compared to EN1, it’s a waste of film. On its own merits, it’s not very good (the cast replacements are uniformly inferior and Dylan Wang is so wrong for Ning Que I cannot even put it into words; the script is useless.) But it had some parts I loved so very VERY much (all the shippy stuff was perfection) so I don’t feel too bitter.

19 Castle in the Sky 2 - a lovely if not too complex fairy tale. It is inferior to its prequel because it doesn’t have Zhang Ruo Yun who elevated it, but it’s still a solid bit of fun.

18 The Great Ruler - it’s very high fantasy, very pretty, and surprisingly involving.

17 (tie) Legend of Two Sisters in the Chaos - the secondary couple steals the show but the rest is not too bad if not too involving.

17 Legend of Awakening - a solid bit of fun with a seriously BDSM streak (theme this year apparently - but come on, the lead’s powers only activate when he’s in extreme pain!) It’s a bit generic and the costuming is done by a blind person, not to mention the OTP is a NOTP, but the rest of relationships (romantic and platonic) are wonderful (I live for the found siblings story in this one) and I like most of the characters.

16 Consummation - a rare modern cdrama I liked; a sweet coming of age story (and love story) even if wrapped in a pretty weird virtual reality concept.

15 Oops the King is in Love - this is how you do a low budget, sweet, silly piece of fluff. Our heroine pretends to be a eunuch and crosses paths with a powerless young king and they are adorable, even more so than the drama.

14 Song of Glory - pretty solid, though draggy and I didn’t love the toothpaste filter. But A+ cast, excellent leading couple chemistry, Li Qin being a BAMF and a leading man (Qin Hao) who is actually an adult.

13 And the Winner is love - objectively kind of a mess (and the heroine has the brainpower of a gnat), but the OTP chemistry is excellent and Luo Yunxi fighting and flirting with a fan as finally a leading man is worth the price of admission.

12 Miss S - snazzy and snappy and stylish and whatever else starts with S.

11 Eternal Love of Dream - I don’t know if it would work for you as well if you weren’t a hardcore shipper for this OTP in Three Lives but I was and this was such a darling, wonderful, shippy delight; plus I love this type of high fantasy.

10 (tie) Maiden Holmes - solid and sweet and a wonderful OTP. Proves that functional doesn’t have to mean boring. If you watch one cross-dressing drama this year make it this one.

10 Qin Dynasty Epic - srs bsns history epic. I am not far into it but it’s so good and smart and visually stunning (if you love battles, this one is for you.)

9 Love Lasts Two Minds - I adored this so much more than I should objectively have, but it’s so beautiful (and no I am not just referring to Alan Yu’s face) and the OTP has wonderful chemistry and the story is solid, and the whole trope of her memory being wiped but falling for him all over again while he’s constantly and utterly devoted is a fave; plus he’s in pain and semi-dyng for most of it so sluuuurp (happy ending, don’t worry)

8 To Love - yes, a modern drama is this high! But it involves intensity, tragedy, genuine adults and sexiness that is Lin Gengxin. And there is an actual plot and darkness OMG!

7 Legend of Xiao Chuo - so beautiful, so fun, so full of gorgeousness of Shawn Dou. Plus, Liao is a rare setting for a cdrama and there are a lot of characters and stories I liked a LOT. Less ship content than I wanted but more than I expected.

6 The Romance of Tiger and Rose - so so delightful. I was literally laughing out loud. I have no idea if it will work as well if one isn’t a seasoned watcher of period cdrama/reader of web novels, with bonus for watching/reading Goodbye My Princess, but it was a complete delight for me (and yes, I shipped for real, as well. Best of both worlds.)

5 Twisted Fate of Love - Jin Han gets a leading period drama role! And he’s enjoying it to the hilt, excellent as a smart, twisty bastard who is also charming and so madly in love with heroine. Sun Yi is beautiful and tough and her chemistry with JH is on fire, the story never drags, and it’s so twisty and fun and just awesome.

4 Love In Between - the most underrated drama on this list. It has no big names or big budget, but it’s wuxia that’s clever, driven, tragic, hopeful and so beautifully shot. Three separate (amazing) OTPs, a leading man who is so not typical (a doctor who cannot fight and who never acquires this ability) and who is intense and smart and damaged, a heroine who puts her quest ahead of her emotions, an unhealthy degree of involvement by yours truly. This is a drama Fei should have been.

3 Love and Redemption - such a lovely, addictive, utterly romantic fairy tale. I was obsessed with it for a reason. All the tropes you love and some you didn’t know you did, a star-crossed OTP to the nth power (and a secondary OTP I hardcore love), a twisty yet coherent plot, some insane chemistry and so much whump and hurt/comfort they must have bought blood packets in bulk.

2 Go Ahead - yes, I can’t believe it either. A contemporary slice of life cdrama made it this high on my list. But the way it feels so real, the found family perfection, the characters I love and loathe, the perfect cherry of a wonderful OTP that hits my narrative kinks on top, and just a perfect storm of loveliness all around with this one.

1 The Wolf - is that any surprise to anyone who’s checked out this tumblr for the last couple of months? Tragic, intense and gorgeous; so romantic and angsty and passionate it made me lose my mind (though some of it was gone the moment the camera panned to Darren Wang) - all my favorite tropes and then some; this is a drama that may not be perfect but it is 100% and then beyond perfect for ME.

FAVORITE DRAMA

The Wolf - I have seen objectively better cdramas; even this year. But it has been literal years since I have been this hardcore obsessed, this utterly pleased, this emotionally catered to and devastated at once. A beautiful dark fairy tale that manages to own me despite the storytelling gaps due to censorship, it took me for one of the biggest emotional roller coaster rides of my drama watching career. Visually gorgeous, poetic, intense, and so romantic it took my breath away, this is not just my favorite cdrama of 2020, it’s my favorite drama this year period, and the one cdrama this year to make it into my permanent Top 10 cdramas list.

WORST DRAMA

Legend of Jin Yan - see my write up for it for why as I refuse to waste more time on this stupid mess.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Wolfie, The Wolf - he is such a haunted, tormented, complex, dark mess; loving and violent, severely damaged and with a hidden yearning softness, longing and aloof. And the amount of charisma and sheer masculine sex appeal Darren Wang brings to the role is insane and not something I see much of in a cdrama. Plus, that character arc with its rapid fall and slow painful redemption is A++++

Runner Up: Sifeng, Love and Redemption - has a male lead ever loved more utterly and selflessly, suffered more thoroughly and beautifully, and managed to have such chemistry with both his leading lady and his leading man (that his leading lady temporarily turned into) at once? The answer is no.

Almost made the cut - Feng Xi, Twisted Fate of Love, Han Shuo, The Romance of Tiger and Rose, Qing Ci, Love in Between.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Qian, The Romance of Tiger and Rose - so funny, so much the reason this drama was such a delight. I adore her beyond words.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Murder Daddy, The Wolf - I am sad the censors robbed us of seeing him die on screen. He was fully human but nonetheless managed to be the worst monster in a drama full of literal ones.

Ling Xiao’s Mom, Go Ahead - I hate her so much I don’t want to look up her name. She abused the kid, the disappeared and came back to abuse him some more. I mean she literally gave her child mental health issues. She is the WORST.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xing’er x Wolfie, The Wolf - are you kidding me? Who else could it ever be for me? They destroyed each other and saved each other, sworn enemies and childhood lovers, soulmates and epic messes, they couldn’t live with or without each other. The longing, the passion, the intensity, the angst, the epicness. LIKE THERE ARE NO WORDS!!!!

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Si Yuan, Shen Manqing, Love in Between - I loved them as much and often more than the main OTP. So much angst and passion and a happy ending! She is a seeming sect darling (except the sect is horrible and also sexist so her only worth is as a marriage candidate) and he’s an information broker who is actually one of the members of a destroyed sect that’s blamed for the massacre of her family. That chemistry and yearning is insane. The scene where she touches his face when he’s unconscious was in serious running for my favorite scene of 2020.

NOTP

Legend of Awakening - I have never seen a couple that didn’t just have no chemistry but exhibited actual revulsion towards each other before watching Chen Feiyu and Cheng Xiao try to act as lovers in this one. It was almost entertaining to be honest.

FAVORITE SCENE

It’s a tie and both are from The Wolf. One is a sequence where Wolfie marches to the walls alone, seeking death at Xing’er’s hands and the whole sequence with the battle and rescue follows. The other is the intercut between Xing’er going to her wedding and Wolfie going to his execution, and the auto-da-fe being intercut with her wedding.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Wolfie, The Wolf - Ummm have you seen this tumblr lately, it’s basically a drool shrine to the man.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Yelü Yansage, The Legend of Xiao Chuo - I have loved this actor since The Myth and he continued to competently steal every scene he was in.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

To Love - come out of the coma, dammit!!!!!!!

NEEDS A DIRECTOR’S CUT

The Wolf - duh. It started out as 59 eps and got cut to 49. I reaiize some stuff is never gonna get put in due to censorship, but some of the stuff that got cut got for time reasons because they were deluded and hoping to get a TV broadcast so ep count had to be under 50. I mean I doubt the censors would care if they kept scenes of Wolfie building her a swing or whatever. I really really want a director’s cut the way Goodbye My Princess did even if like with GMP it’s only three extra eps. Hell, I will take extra three minutes, as long as those three minutes are Darren Wang shirtless or with a sword. Ahem.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

The Song of Glory - it’s a fairly solid drama but honestly it didn’t need to be as long as it was and kind of got draggy and I got lost interest. (I could have gotten snarky and said all the dramas I didn’t like needed scissors taken to them in their entirety but decided to play nice.)

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

There are a number of dramas I could complain about with regard to this (hi there, darling The Wolf!) but this award goes to Renascence - poor Renascence was never going to be a masterpiece, but it had the potential to be a bit of good cheesy fun until it had its run time cut by more than half and became an incoherent piece of insanity.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Dumb shrill innocent heroine who can’t tie her shoes - see basically all the cdramas I didn’t like this year.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Male lead torture - I mean it’s always open season on that in cdramas, but between Love and Redemption, The Wolf, Love Lasts Two Minds, Love in Between and so on, it was a banner year!

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Legend of Fei - what a waste of that cast; what a waste of our finite time on this Earth. What a waste of my intelligence to hope for something better and stick with it for a dozen eps. I have had stale wonderbread that had more personality than this drama.There is absolutely nothing that stands out about this drama in any way, from half-dimensional characters, to actors who are sleepwalking, to a plot that moves at the speed of an arthritic snail, to uninspired cinematography and direction, to lack of any chemistry between anyone in the cast. If paint-by-numbers was done by a group of particularly linear robots, it might come across the same way as this drama.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

The Wolf - honestly, I did not expect it to come out AT ALL EVER let alone to become my favorite drama of 2020. I was not familiar with the leading man (hahah), I liked Li Qin but wasn’t yet obsessed with her, and Xiao Zhan was excellent in The Untamed but I was hardly going to follow him from drama to drama (and I don’t do SLS any way.) And the trailer was enjoyable but unlike seemingly everyone, I didn’t think it was going to be some epic masterpiece. And then it came out and while it wasn’t objectively an epic masterpiece, it pulled out all the favorite tropes, shippy and narrative kinks from the deepest darkest recesses of my id. And I fell harder than I have in years.

2020 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

None. Covid Year gave me PLENTY of time

BEST NON-2020 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2020

Novoland Eagle Flag and Joy of Life - they are in my Top 10 dramas from anywhere now. They are quite different except being smart and giving me protagonists to obsess over.

ETA: Also The Untamed because @idlewilds3 pointed out I actually watched it in 2020 even though I didn’t think so because this hellyear has lasted about three decades.

MOST ANTICIPATED IN 2021

I am gonna limit it to dozen and leaving out ones that aren’t necesarily supposed to air next year (Joy of Life 2, Love in Flames of War, Novoland Princess from Plateau.)

Monarch Industry, Novoland Pearl Eclipse, Silk Washing Stream, Dream of Changan, Sword Snow Stride, Wu Xing Shi Jia, Ancient Love Poetry, Immortality, The Long Ballad, Mirror Twin Cities, The Imperial Age, Fall In Love

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october-freakin-gale · 3 years ago

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And again

I’m gonna try to collect as many of the weird tags I’ve written on this blog in this post and possibly subsequent reblogs. This may or may not be comprehensive and also may or may not accidentally contain other people’s tags. Wish me luck

#i suck at vibribbon but vibri is so cute and fun #i really hope its supposed to be comedy…#my father is a huge weeb #it was really funny because i went to the doctor and i said ‘my hands are shaky’#beautiful art. terrible opinion #this isn’t even the first time i’ve had a needle in one arm and then the leg on the opposite side got sore #idk if it’s more upsetting that vicar amelia would fall under hot lady or that rom the vacuous spider would be a horse #you can just make up names for me if you want i don’t give a toot #these songs are intensely mediocre but the names more than make up for them #amd she was like ‘okay cut up this napkin with these scissors and draw a spiral on the paper we put over the bed’#two very fast lonely butterfly collectors in the swiss alps #i thought they meant flat as in two dimensional and lacking complexity but no it was about butts #words that make me hear gunshots and rotten flesh squelching under my blade #honest to god i thought this man’s name was rod sterling #a million dollars and some chicken or some idk #i was too realistic to want a bead curtain so i just asked for one for my american girl doll #depending on the shape and hotness of the mug #there is a guy… called robert e. o. speedwagon…#posts that spagettify my brain on the event horizon of adhd #one day at 1 in the morning i decided to stream it as many times in a row as i could stand #did a figure skating routine to this song once #putting eyeliner on her would get real messy real quick #the implication that horton is god is fascinating #sorry to maddymayhearts and any other mcyt inclined moots but. i do not want to look at your minecraft men #ok prev tags: yes and no. only on full moons #that capri sun is the same size as her entire face oh my gosh #because contrary to what the jojo universe would have you believe a baby is never going to threaten to murder you #narancia is terribly violent but he’s a nice ish kid somewhere inside and so we call him an innocent baby #i’m kinda a fan of jojo but there is some inexusable shit in there #and a wart removal when i was a tiny baby

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locktobre · 3 years ago

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bcbd thoughts

right away I see that this is only an hour long, so... it’s not a movie, then. it’s a one hour special, again. I feel like I’m already gonna miss the extra 20 minutes just like dolphin magic but we’ll see I guess. maybe it’ll be a mercy that it’s shorter.

the opening credits/dream sequence was nice. the animation on the city is decent, and the monochrome thing was kind of cool.

her being on stage reminded me a little of Eden, and then immediately I missed Eden so much. they would never let a version of Babs be a bitch now and that’s such a shame.

so now we’re joking about George tracking Barbie’s cell phone? bc that’s fine and not at all an invasion of privacy or anything. also, you can check flight statuses on the internet so that’s really not necessary. also, why the fuck didn’t Barbie call them once she got off the plane? or at least text? I always text or call my mom when I land, and frankly I’m not even as close to my mom as Barbie claims to be to her parents. and I did that when I was 17 traveling alone, too, so it’s not just something I do as an adult. it’s part of the responsibility of traveling to let ppl know that you got somewhere safe so they don’t worry about you. what the fuck Babs.

was that honking supposed to be like censoring the cabbie swearing bc I would love that. let the cabbie say fuck.

I still maintain that this “summer program” thing is bullshit and Babs should have been going off to college. I know they won’t let her grow up but it makes more sense than this does. also, you’re telling me there’s no summer programs for acting/whatever in LA? seriously? she HAD to go across the country for this? and her parents let her? they don’t even trust her! they said that 2 seconds ago! or is tracking her cell phone the reason she’s allowed to travel across the country (to Willows and Florida and Hawaii) by herself in the first place? I hate this I hate it so much already

The Handler Arts Academy... oh I’m feeling emotions

“luck’s got nothing to do with it. you worked your tail off for this” SHOW ME FOR WHEN, PLEASE. this could have been an actual arc of the show, a goal Barbie was working towards that could thread thru multiple episodes... but no. this came out of nowhere. I’m STILL saying that Amelia bought Barbie’s place here bc FUCK YOU SHOW

“I hope I’m good enough” you’re a mediocre rich white woman, you can do literally anything you want.

why is her guitar shoved in a cardboard box and not, idk, in a guitar case? that’s stupid. also, that’s an open cardboard box, so how did that travel on the plane? a closed cardboard box, fine. should be a suitcase, but fine. but this just makes no sense and I am not going to let it slide bc I hate this continuity and everything about it.

however, I will give Brooklyn a pass for the open cardboard box bc she literally lives in NYC and didn’t have to take a fucking plane to get here. she can carry it like that if she wants.

“as long as you don’t break [my leg], we’re good” I’ve already seen Brooklyn in a cast, so... does Malibu literally break her leg later on? even on accident... jesus christ.

is this Russian(?) custodian lady gonna be the antagonist/villain? bc I’m already not vibing with that. not at fucking all.

how the FUCK could they show up a day early? why would they not show up on the day they’re supposed to? that doesn’t make any sense! and if they’re NOT supposed to be there yet, then there would be no staff there to watch them, so they should have to come back tomorrow! they shouldn’t be allowed to be by themselves in a school like this! I’m assuming this is to facilitate a day of bonding without stupid things like classes in the way, but they could have written an orientation day or something in that would have made more sense, and as I said, I am not inclined to give them a pass on anything these days. fuck you all.

so, room assignments are alphabetical... I guess that kind of explains them being in the same room, altho it does feel coincidental that they wouldn’t be, like, in neighboring rooms. also they didn’t animate little signs on the other doors, even with nonsense text if they didn’t want to put other names up, so their door really sticks out for no reason. also, shouldn’t it say “Barbie Roberts & Barbie Roberts” or some other way of having both names on the door? also, if the school knows they have the same name, couldn’t they put middle initials or something? we know Malibu is Barbie M. Roberts, and I will generously assume that Brooklyn’s middle name is something else, so that would have been fine. this really feels like the administrators don’t give a fuck, and in a supposedly prestigious school, I don’t buy that.

so, Brooklyn has been training every summer in different programs, very intensely, to get in here... and Malibu trained on the internet. what have I been saying about Malibu’s white mediocrity? hmm?

even after that (lackluster) montage, it feels way too soon for “Before Us.” I don’t believe they’re best friends who warrant a song about their friendship. I don’t believe that at all.

I like the bald fashionista being on the billboard, that’s a nice touch.

Malibu bringing up her vlog like that gives me hives. she has already stated multiple times that she does that to help ppl, not for clout, and yet. here she is. being a fake ass bitch once again.

Brooklyn and Emmie’s story is already way more interesting than this and I’m pissed that’s just backstory.

LOVE that green-haired dude. idk where you’re going with that drum but godspeed my dude.

I’m assuming that’s Emmie incognito in the back, but... what’s she doing here if she’s already famous? pulling an Erika Juno?

Dean Morrison seems cool

(is it too early to ship Brooklyn x Emmie?)

if pets are allowed in this school, I’m SHOCKED Malibu didn’t bring Taffy. truly fucking shocked.

Rafa reminds me so much of Jacques Rousseau

“the only labels we believe in are designer” so Rafa’s gay, right? Barbie’s first gay character? I can only assume

the ballet thing still doesn’t make sense to me, if their goal is to be on Broadway. ballet is an entire art and discipline in itself.

fencing makes more sense, bc stage fighting is a thing.

‘work it’ is even funnier than I imagined. Malibu you’re such a fuck up. and I can’t even cut you some slack bc earlier you said your training was “internet.” you didn’t work for this and you don’t belong here. die.

if this was PCS, Malibu would have been kicked out already. YOU WERE NOT PREPARED FOR THIS. WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS.

so, the ‘work it’ montage clearly showed the passage of time, it’s been at least a week, and... Malibu hasn’t talked to Ken at all during that time? this is the first time she’s telling him about Brooklyn?

ok, confirmed to be a week. and she hasn’t talked to Ken. of course. they are so close of course she hasn’t talked to him in a week, especially when she’s been struggling so much and would need to vent to a friend about it. of course.

so, Emmie is pulling an Erika Juno. at least she’s in disguise.

jesus christ, they’re really having Emmie be exploited by her own father??? JESUS.

ok Brooklyn x Emmie is sailing.

Brooklyn’s mom is an airline pilot, that sounds cool.

so the dresses are powered by the magic of friendship? cool. that’s stupid.

of COURSE Emmie’s dad is the board member. jesus christ I hate this dude.

okay, so she DIDN’T break her leg, it’s only a sprain. thank god. poor green-haired drum dude.

saying “epic fail” in 2021 unironically is not cool, mattel. unless I’m even more out of touch with the youth than I thought, but I’m pretty sure about that.

wait, so Brooklyn was dancing... and now she’s on crutches again? what is this montage? they fucked up here.

of all things to kick Malibu out for, they’re saying she pushed Brooklyn? why not all the fuck ups in her first week?

also, Rafa was taping that class so how do they not bring that up immediately? that’s the whole reason they were dancing over there in the first place! (so he might not have caught anything, but still, I have to assume that’s going to fix this bc that’s what these movies do.)

I really like Malibu’s leather jacket look, but she does look a little bit old I think. Brooklyn’s leggings look is nice, too.

okay, so Brooklyn suddenly believes the unnamed witness over the girl she sang ‘before us’ with? okay. I told you this friendship was a crock of shit. they don’t trust each other at all! Brooklyn should have been angry when she first fell, and it builds to thinking that she was sabotaged, but she brushed it off... and now she’s pissed. that makes no sense.

this friendship breakup song also means nothing to me bc their friendship fell apart for such a stupid reason. fate didn’t tear you apart, you tore yourselves apart by not trusting each other. stupid little children.

if Brooklyn’s ankle isn’t completely healed aka still painful, she should not be dancing on it, she could injure herself more or at least prolong the healing process.

ok, so NOW, after Malibu has already been expelled and sent back home, they remembered the video. these kids are so fucking stupid. and of COURSE the unnamed witness is Mr Miller! Emmie, you ALREADY KNOW that your dad is shady as shit and wants you to get the Spotlight Solo! HOW DID YOU NOT PUT THIS TOGETHER IN 5 SECONDS? I DID

so, Mr Miller thought Malibu was Emmie’s biggest competition for the solo? Malibu, the spectacular fuck up? not Brooklyn? or any of the background extras? I refuse to fucking believe that. I REFUSE.

how did George and Margaret just let Malibu get expelled without flying out there to fight the charge? seriously?

how is is Brooklyn singing ‘before us’ in-universe such that Malibu recognizes it? you’re breaking the conventions of musicals! I don’t get this!

I like Brooklyn’s mom being a pilot less after it’s been used to facilitate this bullshit part of the plot.

again, just “Barbie Roberts” makes no sense. where’s a middle initial to differentiate them! SOMETHING! I know they’re doing the finale together, but still, it’s STUPID.

shipping Rafa x green-haired drummer dude bc I can

where’s the Emmie doll for this movie?????? I’m so disappointed. also the other outfits, the leather jacket and leggings ones, I swear those weren’t dolls either. what the fuck

I see more fashionistas on billboards at the end! I really like that

so the custodian wasn’t a villain... then why that introduction for her? that went nowhere

is “Big City Big Dreams” supposed to be Emmie’s song? that Malibu lips-synced to on her vlog (apparently)? I can’t tell by the voice and they don’t list the voices for the songs in the credits

overall, once again it largely made no sense. idk if it would have benefitted from 20 extra minutes of screentime bc nothing really happened.

also, what the fuck happened to Mr Miller? he just keeps on exploiting his daughter? and for that matter, what happened to Emmie’s mom? bc she lived with her, and then all of the sudden her dad was in her life again and exploiting her, so... what did mom die? did he kill her? what am I supposed to think? and Emmie’s STILL stuck in that situation? girl. what the fuck

also of course they were too cowardly to confirm anything about Rafa. of course.

#mel irl #barbie babbles #bcbd #barbie spoilers

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gyllenhaalstories · 4 years ago

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SOUTHPAW, PART 1: HEADCANONS.

notes: dear anon: thank you for making me appreciate jake the rapper! also i know nothing about rap, so i’m sorry if this is pure trash! i never finished watching southpaw because it was too dark for me, but i took some very loose inspiration from it. warnings: mentions of dark past, mentions of sexual content... this got really long (2k words). gifs credits: alphalewolf. extras: if you want more informations about rapper!jake, please scroll through my blog. i have edited some older posts with the tag: topic: rapper!jake, so check it out if you’re interested. i have taken some ideas and put them in this list. (at the end of the list i provided some goodies!)

PART TWO WILL BE UPLOADED SOON, KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR IT!

attention, attention! please note i know absolutely nothing about rap. i very rarely enjoy listening to rap music, it’s simply not for me. this might be inaccurate and off compared to the actual world of hip hop and other similar genres. i apologize for my lack of knowledge! this is an au in which jake is not an actor or a producer or anything of the sort. his fame, he built it with his music. you must keep that in mind while reading these headcanons or else it will get confusing. also, i’ve taken some loose inspiration from jake’s actual work, but that’s just for the sake of backstory. are you ready to dive in this twisted fantasy?

Jake Gyllenhaal. Known as Hall. He exploded the charts after being picked up by one of the biggest record companies for his first album: Hall of Fame. He was a rookie, yet he was older than most of the rappers you can think of today. He worked his way up undercover. He started participating in poetry and slam nights at local cafés. He became a songwriter, through connections. He sold some songs that are absolute classics today, but he does not care. He did not feel like they fit him anyway.

Growing up, Jake had it rough. There was a lot of fighting at home. His older sister was the perfect angel and him? The absolute disaster child. It was not like he ran after danger and trouble, he seemed to always be at the wrong place in the wrong time, he hung out with the wrong crowd. He managed to avoid juvie on some miracle. What was the miracle, you might ask? He was caught robbing some local bank with his “friends” and the cops, at first, did not believe he was innocent. While his friends were screaming and threatening the innocent clients of the bank, Jake actually tried to help them out of the building safely. The cops arrived at the same moment and thought he was keeping the strangers hostage. He was arrested on the spot. The other guys played the victims, blamed it all on Jake but it was only when Jake wrote the whole story, from the beginning where his friends manipulated him and made of him their puppet to when he felt this adrenaline rush telling him he needed to save the strangers that night. His writing was too sincere, too raw to be a web of lies. The police released him, but they kept an eye on him.

His escape were writing and music. He impressed all of his teachers at school. Talented, gifted, magical. That was how they described Jake at every parent and teacher meeting. Writing dumb sentences that made very little sense and playing with a guitar after school, that did not make his parents very proud compared to his sister who was on top of all of her classes and working hard for a future of wealth and success.

Music was his entire life. He would come home from school and blast music until he was called out for dinner. Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Heart, Pink Floyd, Metallica, name it. He liked it loud. He liked it weird. He liked it with a deeper message, with double meaning.

He worked all types of jobs, some legal and some not so much. He was saving money for college. He applied. He got in. He started his classes. He had big dreams, too, he had ambitions. Maybe he could his talent to good use? He wanted to study philosophy, literature, music, creative writing... Anything that required thought and depth. He made friends, there. He befriended the edgy punk guy, he had tattoos everywhere, he listened to the same bands, he was quiet but his essays spoke volumes.

Jake was disappointed, his illusions were broken. He hated the format of his classes, the feeling like his opinion and his inspiration did not matter, it was always about meeting some stupid requirements to please a rich professor who did not care about passion, about talent, about originality. Jake dropped out, soon followed by his friend. His friend was hired at a tattoo parlor and Jake hung out there all the time. He would stay up until 5 am, 6, 7, all night and all day long. He loved the clients there. He would write and read his writing out loud to the clients when they were tortured by the needle shooting the ink in their skin. Talented and gifted, they all the same thing.

He started to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

He wrote, not just stories and opinion pieces. He started writing songs, melody and lyrics. He started playing them, he started writing his own poetry too. He was introduced to freestyle battles. And as he fought against other talented thinkers, he noticed he spoke with a tempo, with a rhythm. He was rapping and he did not even realize it.

His career sky rocketed from the moment a music producer attended one of the rap battles. He was famous, he got quite the thick wallet and the connections. Jake was introduced to legends of hip hop. They all influenced him as his career grew to become something overwhelming and terrifying, yet thrilling and addictive.

Hall had a style of his own, though. It was romantic, yet absolutely disgusting and dark. It was aggressive, yet vulnerable and philosophical. He spoke of his trauma, of his hatred, of his envy, of his fears... He used his songs as an escape. He was becoming his own escape.

And his own prison. His family did not care about him, he was a shame, even. Aside from his old college friend, he never built strong friendships. They were all after him for fame and cash. He slept around, guys and gals, threesomes, foursomes... He did not care, anything for some genuine connection, even if it lasted for a very lazy and messy fifteen minutes in the trashy bathroom of a concert hall. Rumour had it he was a great lover, but he was so bad at loving.

Now it gets interesting...

Hall rapped alongsides Eminem, Drake, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott... The biggest pop stars were fighting just to get him to rap a line in their songs. Rihanna wishes he was the one singing Love the way you lie, does that give you an idea? He appeared on duets. He wrote more solo albums, sold them instantly. He never left the top of the billboard in weeks, months, if not years. It never really got to his head. He was still that sensitive boy writing about knights and princesses in his bedroom with walls covered by band posters. Fans did not care about this side of him, they loved him for his lyrics about snorting coke, drinking his pain away and fucking whoever wore the tiniest skirt around.

His latest album, Southpaw, was an even bigger hit. Pure filth. Pure gold. Imagine 13 tracks, Cardi’s and Megan’s WAP but reversed. He does not rap about how good he fucks people. He raps about how good they feel. That’s some real depth here, no pun intended.

You met him at one of his concerts. Your friend won VIP passes, so you were standing in the front and got to take a picture with him. You did not understand the hype around taking a photo with this guy, he just stood there and looked absolutely emotionless.

You hated rap, or perhaps you loved it. You did not care much for Jake, that was for sure. You thought he was just another lame rapper who thought he was the real deal because his lyrics were so explicit, even the clean versions made angels cry. The truth was, you did not know much a bout him. You found him too commercial, like he was scared of becoming irrelevant.

You saw right through him already.

But him? He already cared too much about you. You caught his attention as he rapped his songs. He could not take his eyes off you. You weighted heavy on his mind, caused him to stutter and forget lyricvs. Fans laughed, they said he was probably too drunk or too high too focus. Drunk in love, that’s what it was.

There was something about you. Maybe it was the Black Sabbath shirt you wore. Maybe it was the unimpressed look on your face. Maybe it was your plump lips he wanted to kiss. Maybe it was the sight of you laughing with your friend that made his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the fact you treated him like a normal person even if you had not spoken to him first.

So, you met backstage.

Your friend was beaming from ear to ear, showering Jake in compliments.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jake asked you.

“For someone who shows no emotion, sound dead inside and look like they wish they were doing anything but making dozens of thousands of dollars by singing a couple of semi mediocre tracks, yeah, it was not that horrible.”

He was up for a challenge.

You two exchanged insults like it was a boxing match. Each round was getting more and more intense. It was no longer insults, it was straight up flirting. You noticed when your bodies were so close you could smell the scent of watermelon chewing gum that escaped from his warm breath. You could hear the way his raced even faster than yours.

You were snapped out of this fantasy by his bodyguard, indicating other fans waited for him.

He remembered the name your friend called out, saying he needed to bring you home before something bad happened.

It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard.

He hung out around that concert hall for the next couple of days. At the bar nearby, at Starbucks, at McDonald’s, anything for the sake of seeing your face again.

And he did.

You were walking out of the record store with a vinyl of Heart squeezed under your arm. You looked so happy. You had paint stains all over your clothes. You were erasing the memories of a terrible relationship by decorating your tiny apartment, and you needed to set the right ambiance. You needed guidance, you found it in the strong minds of the ladies behind Heart, in Joan Jett, in Stevie Nicks. You found your silver lining in music.

Jake ran behind you, he pretended he was out jogging and he mysteriously bumped into you. He grabbed your vinyl before it could fall on the ground.

“Nice pick.”

“We finally agree on something.”

Another round of flirty insults...

... That ended in the two of you fucking like animals on the floor of your apartment.

And fucking on the couch the next day.

On the kitchen counter the morning after.

And finally, on the bed. That was a really special one. Jake was the first person to be on your bed since the departure of your ex. He could feel that you were not in the mood for a rough battle for dominance.

That night, he made love to you.

For, quite possibly, the first time in his life, he expressed his love directly to somebody. “Princess, baby girl, beautiful, gorgeous, amazing”, he showered you in compliments, and praises. The slow movement of his hips, the intense passion in his eyes and love in his heart spoke louder than the music you were playing in the background to set the mood.

You were not just another trophee to hang on the wall. You were special.

He was special too.

He bought you every record that reminded him of you. He bought you collector items of your favourite bands. From the silliest decoration to a new car to replace your crappy one, passing by tickets to exclusive and sold-out shows, Jake had never felt more famous in his life than when he was with you.

His fans noticed the change in his songs, in his lyrics. They were just as explicit, just as rotten and just as corrupted. However, they came from a place of light and love, not of darkness and rage.

He sang about how good your felt when you climaxed around him. How drenched he was whenever he made you squirt. How he loved to taste himnself on your lips. How he was full of love and of lust for you. How he would quit everything if it meant he would live a normal life, for once, and with you.

You inspired so many songs that became massive world-wide hits.

You travelled the world with him on tour. You helped him design his new merch and you wore his t-shirts with pride. You attended concerts in your freetime. You loved staying up all night, painting and drawing while he was writing about this mirage of a goddess, blessing his existence with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

He was addicted to you.

He was crazy for you.

And he went crazy on you.

for research purposes and not because i wasted my time hearing eminem talk about stuff i don’t understand so i could stare at jake’s thighs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP_cKP4OjsA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whV5oQDvVWE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGqC9URTJIQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5imXD1LPnwo

and finally, for good measure :

@gyll-yee-haw ily

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #topic: rapper!jake #series: southpaw

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portugalisinsa · 4 years ago

Text

In my desperate attempt to sleep I ended up thinking about copaganda and how the term as been abused and misused, so let me rant about it for a little bit

So “copaganda” means a specific thing, namely, a piece of media that pushes propaganda for the police, implying that the police is Great, Actually, and Don’t Worry Your Pretty Little Head About It. Cops is an example of that. Blue Bloods is the poster child.

However, as it always happens, a specific term that is actually Important enters the mainstream and loses its meaning because of people, and now it’s being used by many as “movie and/or show that’s about the police and/or has a police character that isn’t a total dick, which obviously means that the movie and/or show is bad”.

That’s obviously bullshit, and I will show that with Edgar Wright’s great masterpiece Hot Fuzz.

On the surface, a complete dumbass would say that Hot Fuzz is copaganda. Nicholas Angel is shown as good! The final act is a big shooting! Of course it is, right?!

Wrong.

Alright, so, Hot Fuzz begins by showing us Nicholas Angel and how fucking awesome he is. There’s what you would expect (urban pacification, riot control, resolution of “Operation Crackdown”, highest arrest) but, most notably, there’s a degree in Politics and Sociology, and they specifically mention popularity within the community. In fact, in the rest of the movie, that is what he mostly does- community work. He checks the traffic, patrols, gets minors out of a pub, and tries to find a duck for a member of the public.

So Nicholas Angel is awesome, and he’s the best cop. it would naturally follow that the rest of the police would love him. That’s what we want- if you’re good, you meet your objectives, and do your best, you will fit in the police and make the world a better place!

But no, the others fucking hate him. His superiors are shipping him off because he’s too good. He’s making the others look bad, and the idea of, you know, holding everybody at a higher standard doesn’t touch them. No, Nicholas Angel makes them look bad, and looking good matters more than all the results he gets.

Now, it would be easy to make it look like it’s just a higher up problem. The higher up are lazy and image obsessed, but the common officers, the ones we all meet, they’re good and appreciate him. “Don’t worry, public, we’ll protect you even though our superiors are dicks.“

Nope, they fucking hate him too.

So already, not a glowing endorsement of the police. But hey! It could still be copaganda! Maybe, I don’t know, it’s just those city cops, and the country cops are actually the good guys!

Ahah lol, actually? The country cops fucking hate Angel too. Angel is a “city cop” who thinks too highly of himself and is there to show them how it’s done.

If you’re reading this, you may remember that Angel kinda never did anything other than, you know, be a by-the-book officer. The country cops don’t like him for completely bullshit reasons that can be summarized as “you’re new and also you’re trying to make us feel bad for not being as awesome as you by being that awesome and we don’t trust you go away”. Danny likes him, admittedly mostly because he’s a sweetie pie, but partly for the bad reasons- he wants soldier cop.

All of this is, needless to say, not a glowing endorsement of the police.

Eventually, we find out what made Angel want to become a police officer; his uncle was one. He admired him, and wanted to be like him. Now, Edgar Wright could have left it at that, and we would have had a nice, traditional “amazing cop comes from long, noble line of cops” story, but instead, we instantly find out that, actually, his uncle was corrupt, and that’s bad, and Angel is disappointed in him.

So, to recap- we’re basically halfway through the movie, and the only good cop is Angel. (Danny isn’t bad, but like... he’s not exactly good either, at least as a police officer)

The movie continues, and murders start to happen. Angel is literally the only one who thinks anything is wrong. A long, long string of “accidents” is happening, and none of the cops has even the slightest inkling that something is wrong. They’re just like “Angel, you nipped scarf, you’re a paranoid dum-dum“, and what little they do, they do after a lot of arm-twisting and with extreme disgruntlement.

Once again, not a glowing endorsement.

On and on we go, two thirds into the movie, with only Danny liking Angel and showing any kind of improvement as an officer, until we finally get to the revelation that the council is killing people for the greater good (the greater good)... Oh, and btw, who is also part of the council?

The Frank Butterman, AKA The Police Inspector, AKA THE FUCKING LEADER OF THE POLICE IN THIS TOWN.

So, to recap, by the final act of the movie, we find out that the higher ups are corrupt and the main body of the police are ineffectual.

Okay. Cool.

Nicholas Angel then proceeds to pack up for the final showdown. I see lots of people making the argument that this is an example of soldier cop, fixing everything with violence. Me, I think that’s bullshit. In real life, the problem isn’t that cops have riot gear, the problem is that they use it for everything. Riot gear is something you use only when strictly necessary, and I would argue that “murderous council that’s packing” is one of those times when it is.

So the riot gear and packing up is fine. But what about the violence, I hear you cry?

Well, here’s the thing- the man is responding with the appropriate amount of force. Everybody is trying to actually murder him, and he never, ever shoot to kill. He shoots to incapacitate.

Look at the final body count, people. You think Bad Boys would have ended such a show up with none dead, lots low-to-medium injured apart from one guy who was badly injured but did it himself by tripping on a pointy thing? Fuck, even outside of copaganda, what was the last action movie that had such a body count?

Also, the rest of the country police come around, after initially responding AGAINST Angel, and only thanks to Danny mediation. Which... I mean, good, it’s good, I’m very proud of them, but like, once again, this isn’t exactly glowing endorsement. This doesn’t scream “see, audience?!?! Cops may look ineffectual, but when push comes to shove, they’ll save you!” to me, this screams “yo, they’re finally doing the bare minimum”.

Anyway, the end comes. The London police wants Nicholas Angel to come back because now they look bad, but Angel wants to actually rebuild and direct the police here in the town. They all do paperwork, because that’s what the rules say and rules are important and cops should follow the rules, and more stuff happens but it’s not important for the purpose of this so, here, the end.

At the end, we get the song. The choice of music is important for a movie, it means stuff. Even a mediocre director knows that, and Edgar Wright is a goddamn master of the craft. Have you seen The World’s End? Check that soundtrack. It’s perfect. Hell, the man directed Baby Driver, which, you know, was half soundtrack. Edgar Wright cares about music in his movies and he chooses it carefully, is the point, okay?

So, keeping in mind that, what do we end Hot Fuzz with? Some bombastic “bad boys bad boys, whatchu gonna do, whatchu gonna do when they come for you”? Something that pumps you up, that makes you go “FUCK YEAH”?

We end it with “Caught by the Fuzz”, by Supergrass. Which, yes, slaps, it slaps my whole bod, and yes, it does pump you up, but, once again, is not a glowing endorsement of the police. It’s a song from the point of view of a scared teen having been arrested by the police who is thinking “fuck I should have stayed at home fuck”.

So what am I trying to say with this? Well, let’s start with what I’m not trying to say; I don’t think Hot Fuzz is an indictment of the police. Please don’t take all of this as me saying that Edgar Wright intended Hot Fuzz as a giant ACAB. That is what in the field we call a reach. Hot Fuzz isn’t an indictment of the police, and that’s fine, because it’s not trying to be. It’s showing the police as a highly flawed institution, and sure, it’s not showing it as flawed as it actually is, but that’s fine, because it’s not trying to be The Wire. What it is trying to be is a fun action movie, which it is, and it is so amazingly.

What I am trying to show is that it’s not copaganda. It’s a movie with a police officer as a main character, a main character who is awesome, but it isn’t copaganda. It’s not endorsing the police. It’s not whitewashing it. It isn’t saying “look at the police, aren’t they great? Aren’t we glad the police are around? Aren’t we better because of the police? Don’t you want to become a police officer? Don’t you think that what they do is excusable, at the end of the day, since they deal with so much?”

But what does this have to do with copaganda? So, look. I get that it’s very nice to tell other people that their favourite shows and/or movie is bad AND wrong, and to feel like you have the moral high ground while doing so. I also get that words change and at the end of the day who gives a shit about it. I really do get that- I will never, ever give a shit about ‘literally’ being used as an intensive and not just to mean ‘literally’, for example.

BUT, some words are actually important, because they do mean a very, very specific thing they are best at describing. And “copaganda” is important, because you read it, you hear it, and you instantly know what it means; it’s something that’s also cop propaganda. Got it.

Which means it’s a word that is important to try and keep for as long as possible, because, you know... the cops aren’t always great. And it’d be best if we weren’t constantly told they are.

I understand that it feels bad to have so many bad things happening around us, and so little power to stop it. But you do have a little bit of power. You have the power to call a spade a spade, and to say ‘that isn’t cool’.

Calling a spade a spade, however, means that you don’t go around calling everything a spade. If you call everything a spade, it creates confusion, and dilutes a message.

So please. Please.

Instead of just pointing at something that has a cop in it and say “copaganda!”, use your critical skills and, like I just did with Hot Fuzz, try to find out if it actually is copaganda before saying it is so.

#hot fuzz #copaganda #long post #now please let me sleep #i'm so tired all the time #man this movie is great #my favourite one is the world's end tho #i'm absolutely not sorry it gave me everything #it made me sad it made me laugh it made me happy it made me cheer #p.s. this is all to say that I'm also not exactly sure Brooklyn 99 is copaganda #but i honestly haven't watched it in years so i have no interest in defending it tbqh #not that i've ever seen anyone saying that hot fuzz is copaganda #i'm sure someone has if only because there's always that one person willfully misinterpreting things #usually the same person going 'uhm maybe if people don't have critical skills #it's because of english teachers not doing their job'#sure it's your english teacher's problem #not you ignoring what they're saying because 'the curtains are just blue' and then covering your ears

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randomvarious · 4 years ago

Video

youtube

Moby - “Bodyrock” Crossing All Over! Volume 10 1999 Big Beat

You all know who Moby is. He’s one of the most successful, talented, and eclectic electronic music producers of his generation. He’s the American who made big beat and sample-laden dance tracks achieve popularity in the US at the turn of the century. He’s an electronic music chameleon; he’s techno, he’s downtempo, he’s big beat, he’s ambient, and he’s even punk and alternative rock. He’s had a long, storied career, with plenty of hits and questionable decisions that have resulted in some really high highs and equally really low lows.

By the time Moby released his fifth album, Play, which ended up becoming considered by many critics to be one of the greatest albums ever recorded in the history of music, he thought it was his final album. Just four years prior, he had released the critically acclaimed Everything Is Wrong, which Spin named its album of the year. He ended up selling a respectable 250,000 copies of the record worldwide, but for the amount of praise it received, and for being on a major label (Elektra), it was a mediocre showing. From jump, that appeared to be Moby’s curse, as it was for most electronic talents: good music, but bad sales; a niche market conquered, but little else beyond that.

Whatever likability Moby had accrued since the UK success of his 1991 techno track, “Go,” which sampled music from Twin Peaks, nearly disintegrated into thin air with the release of his fourth album, 1996′s Animal Rights, which saw him ditching dance music for a blend of alternative rock, hardcore punk, and ambient music. Fans and critics both hated this turn and washed their hands of him almost entirely. It appeared that everyone was just about done with Moby, and that Moby was just about done with himself. Animal Rights turned out to be an album that brought him within an inch of career suicide.

But by 1999, he had decided to go back to dance and electronic music and the result was Play. However, no one seemed to want to give Play any play at all. Moby shopped it to a number of big record labels, but at that point he was regarded as a has-been; a guy who’d run out of good fortune because of his uncompromising strong will and his insufferable need to be an artist. But Richard Branson’s V2 label, which was only three years old at the time, decided to take a chance on it.

From a quote in Rolling Stone:

First show that I did on the tour for Play was in the basement of the Virgin Megastore in Union Square. Literally playing music while people were waiting in line buying CDs. Maybe forty people came.

Most of the critics adored Play and saw it as a work of contemporary creative genius; a real mover-of-the-sticks kind of album. No one, at least no American, had ever made an album quite like it before. It was uptempo, it was downtempo, it had blues samples, it had breakbeats, it was more than danceable, and it was also quite emotional and vulnerable. It was an amalgamation of a lot of different things, and it was a beautiful representative mess of the post-modern, recently-formed digital age, which, at the time, appeared to be bringing the world closer together than it had ever been before, at least from a cultural standpoint. It was music that had a little something for just about everyone. But that was what initially appeared to have ben its fatal flaw, too. See, Play didn’t fit into any pre-defined, carefully crafted, easily marketable categories; It wasn’t rock, it wasn’t pop, it wasn’t hip hop, and it wasn’t R&B. So radio and MTV passed on every song. The album certainly had no home in America, and it didn’t sell all that well in the UK either.

So Moby decided to sell the album out, literally. He licensed every single song off of Play for commercials, TV, movies, and video games, which were all industries that were more receptive to the varied sounds of the album. People would be exposed to Play through other indirect and less conventional means. And with every track licensed and songs appearing in nearly every medium that had audio, except for radio and MTV, Play, almost a year after its release, started to finally gain some commercial traction.

Here’s an illuminating Moby quote from that same Rolling Stone article:

Almost a year after it came out in 2000 I was opening up for Bush on an MTV Campus Invasion Tour. It was degrading for the most part. Their audience had less than no interest in me. February in 2000, I was in Minnesota, I was depressed and my manager called me to tell me that Play was number one in the UK, and had beat out Santana's Supernatural. I was like, :But the record came out 10 months ago.” That's when I knew, all of a sudden, that things were different. Then it was number one in France, in Australia, in Germany—it just kept piling on. [...] The week Play was released, it sold, worldwide around 6,000 copies. Eleven months after Play was released, it was selling 150,000 copies a week. I was on tour constantly, drunk pretty much the entire time and it was just a blur. And then all of a sudden movie stars started coming to my concerts and I started getting invited to fancy parties and suddenly the journalists who wouldn't return my publicist's calls were talking about doing cover stories. It was a really odd phenomenon.

Play only peaked at #38 on the Billboard 200, but it sold two million copies in the States alone. It was on charts across the world for several fucking years. And it finally brought dance music to the American mainstream.

There were two songs that almost didn’t make it onto Play though: “Porcelain,” which Moby hated, and “Bodyrock,” which Moby’s two managers hated. His managers complained that “Bodyrock” was a total ripoff of Fatboy Slim, which...fair..., and that it was tacky. But Moby wanted to keep it on there. He had sampled a classic hip hop song by Spoonie Gee and the Treacherous Three for it called “Love Rap,” which held sentimental value for him, and is the only vocal sample on the song (”Non-stop y’all, to the beat y’all, the body rock y’all...”).

At the top of this post, I called Moby an electronic music chameleon, and “Bodyrock” is the song that saw him almost seamlessly morphing into a god of the big beat sound, somehow briefly placing himself among the ranks of The Prodigy, The Chemical Brothers, and of course, the aforementioned Fatboy Slim. And he managed to do it with just one fucking song. For “Bodyrock,” Moby basically took all the things that got those three big beat acts constantly lumped into the same category, as well as all the things that made them stand apart from each other, and then he mortared-and-pestled it all to death, reducing it all into a fine powder that he could re-arrange and re-apply into his own stunning creation.

“Bodyrock” is a song that’s layered wonderfully and fuses sounds from many different instruments and genres to make something that’s intense as hell, especially for a mainstream audience, but still highly enjoyable. It’s a perfect fusion of rock, hip hop, and dance music, all packaged together into one, solidly cranking song.

Moby starts with the drum-and-vocal sample from Spoonie Gee and The Treacherous Three and then adds two layers of guitars, one with an acidified, throttling, crunchy funkiness, a la Fatboy Slim, that’s inspired by Gang of Four’s 1981 track, “What We All Want,” and one with a thin and whining kind of wah that’s also a bit funky, and which later on becomes an integral part of the chorus. Then Moby infuses the track with some hardness, with heavy drums and bass, as well as hand-claps. Rapper Nikki D, who released an album on Def Jam in 1991, then proceeds to appear out of nowhere for the chorus, pretty clearly trying to sound like MC Lyte’s nearly-forgotten 1996 jam, “Cold Rock a Party”. And along with Ms. D comes the most important piece of the recipe, the bow and ribbon that ties the whole song together, the streaming and high-pitched cinematic strings, which replace the Gang of Four-styled guitar, and are underlaid with a rumbling, motoring, thick bassline that also plays along to the string melody itself.

Two unique and brief pieces then come later on, one that sounds like a combination of clean and dirty aquatics, with a brief, pleasant keyboard melody that sounds submerged in water, but still near the surface, and a swampy and swishy, mud-in-your-galoshes type of rhythm beneath it. Then, before the song’s final push, the other brief piece appears, which sounds like those frequencies you might hear from a hearing test machine, laced with Nikki D’s vocals, the drum break from Spoonie Gee and The Treacherous Three, and some bounding bass.

To close out the masterpiece, Moby lets the chorus ride, and then adds the “Love Rap” vocal back in. You’d think playing two vocals concurrently would clash and make the song unlistenable at that point, but somehow, they don’t. They happen to work really well, and when played together along with everything else, they yield the most intense and enjoyable part of the song.

Play ended up having a total of twelve music videos and a quarter of them were for “Bodyrock”. The first two have a similar theme of British guys, all of whom except for one are white, dancing terribly, but also passionately:

youtube

The second one features a car explosion at the end!:

youtube

And the third one, which has a Run-D.M.C. cameo (!), shows Moby donning special sunglasses that allow him to see talented dancers everywhere:

youtube

Even almost a year after Play was released, it appeared that it was going to be Moby’s swan song and the death of his career. But the decision to license changed all of that, and if ever there was some kind of universal music award for “comeback artist of the year,” Moby would have absolutely won that thing. But in the immortal words of LL Cool J, “don’t call it a comeback,” because while the original best hope for Play was to return to the similar sales and critical appeal of Everything Is Wrong, it managed to far exceed that wishful and shortsighted forecast. Moby was comeback artist of the year and damn near MVP also. It was a wild, totally unexpected, and fantastic turn of events for his career and wellbeing. He almost stopped making music, but now he can’t stop making music. He released an album just this year.

I wholeheartedly agree with the critics who list Play as one of the greatest albums ever made. Not only is it fucking tremendous on its own, but It marked a much-needed turning point for Moby’s career, which undoubtedly kept him going, and still keeps him going today. And one of the many amazing songs on that album that makes Play what it is, is that consummate, brief bit of big beat greatness, that banger of a cut that almost didn’t make it onto the album, the one and only “Bodyrock”; a song that still manages to bop as hard as it did when it originally came out 20-plus years ago.

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gloves94 · 4 years ago

Text

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 19

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Mentions of Abuse!

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

Dumbledore’s wand casted magic over a large box which melded into a large silver goblet made of glass that was containing a bright blue flame.

Students from all over in the Great Hall stood and leaned forward in their seats to have a better look at the price of the Triwizard Tournament. That fancy goblet plus a hefty sum of galleons? Nel would’ve probably entered if she was of age just to be able to sink her greedy hands into the hundreds of galleons. The thought of having that money- the things she would do…

Seeing as she hadn’t taken many clients the year prior, she had to get back on her low life business doings of writing essays, passing test notes and hexing people for a living. She’d find the time to practice her Patronus in her own time and hadn’t had a mental breakdown so far which would’ve resulted in something blowing up or being caught on fire in some time.

“The Goblet of Fire!” Dumbledore announced. “Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament merely write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flamebefore this hour on the 31st evening of October. Do not do so lightly, if chosen there's no turning back. As from this moment the tri-wizard tournament has begun!”

The lovely ladies and gentlemen from the Beauxbaton Academy of Magic had been invited to sit at the Ravenclaw table where they would sit for the rest of the year. Nel had a dreamy look on her eyes as she looked at the back of Ellar’s head. He looked so handsome in his eggshell blue uniform. Headmistress Maxine, probably the tallest woman anybody in the Great Hall had ever seen, was to take a seat next to Dumbledore himself.

Our friends from the North. The proud sons and daughters of Durmstrang had on the other hand been invited to sit at the Slytherin table much to the delight of most of the House. Specially the girls who were gawking over Quidditch celebrity Viktor Krum.

Nel was sitting in between Goyle and Theodore. She didn’t mind sitting next to Goyle, he was a good client of hers and usually he never bothered her. Except when it came to the showdown of who had claim over the last turkey drumstick on the table. That’s when the knives came out.

“Oi, Goyle, switch with Saintday so she can sit next to me,” Draco stuck his head out.

Goyle obediently was getting ready to move.

“Excuse me?” Nel shot back with an arched eyebrow. “I’m not switching seats with anyone,” she said territorially.

Draco rolled his eyes and without another word switched with Goyle so he could be sitting next to her. Malfoy and Saintday civilly sitting next to each other a most rare sight to witness in the Great Hall. “What?” She groaned out irritated by the haughty look on his face. “I’m about to make two galleons and you best be ready to pay up.” She looked at him confused, really not remembering what he had been talking about.

“Viktor!” Draco raised his hand and waved at the Quidditch player who was now walking in their direction.

Malfoy and Krum on a first name basis? Incredible.

Everybody watched in disbelief as Viktor Krum took a seat in between Malfoy and Goyle. Two other Bulgarians, both equally large, muscular and ruggedly handsome sat in front of him in between Tracey and Daphne. Pansy was staring at one intensely. She didn’t waste a moment before she began to brag about her expensive holiday to Merlin knows where. The two other Durmstrang students introduced themselves as Ivo, tall with long hair held back into a manbun and dark almost black eyes. The other dirty blonde simply said “Marko,” when shooting a flirty smile at Daphne who gladly returned it.

She felt a hand nudge the side of her leg under the table and turned to see Malfoy’s open hand demanding she pay up.

Grumbling under her breath, elbow stinging with stinginess she paid up with bitterness. There went two galleons she was never getting back. He leaned in close and whispered a “Thank you,” in almost a sing song mocking tone. She elbowed his rib warning him to stay away from her which only caused him to let out a stifled laugh.

Being too preoccupied with her minor loss, Nel didn’t notice the way Tracey was staring at Krum who was sitting right in front of her. Both of her elbows were propped to the table and her fingers were knotted before her lips. Eyes boring into his. It almost looked like she was about to interview him.

“Viktor Krum,” She said in a professional tone not even blinking before stretching out her hand. “Tracey Davis,” She said sounding official when he looked at her hand funny and shook. Tracey would make sure that Krum remembered that name no matter what.

Her fascination with Krum, it wasn’t the typical girlish one. It seemed more of a business relation. “Remember that name,” She said ambitiously. “I’ve seen you play before. Not impressed.”

Marko choked on his drink, brown eyes blowing wide at the comment. Everyone looked at the Quidditch fanatic in shock. “Vot?” Krum eyed her with an antagonizing look. Eyes narrowing at the girl sitting in front of him. How did Tracey have the audacity to say that to a World Class Seeker.

“Shut up Davis!” Pansy snapped horrified at her comment. “You can’t even make the Slytherin Quidditch Team!” She added nastily causing several Quidditch players in the table to laugh cruelly. It was true, for the past three years Tracey had tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team and for one reason or another she never really made the cut.

Ouch.

Rumor was that the Slytherin Quidditch team didn’t take any ladies, which only made Tracey more motivated to break the glass ceiling and make it to the team.

The Quidditch fanatic ignored them and kept her focused gaze on Krum. The entire table gawking with astonishment. “You might be quite agile, but…” Tracey proceeded to explain on an elaborate Quidditch strategy. One which attacked all of Krum’s weaknesses, (if they were any, really). She also spoke about playing on some of his strengths, like agility, balance and the creativity he had when riding a broom. “… like using your sloth grip roll, I think it could’ve been a great offensive when countering Lynch in the last game.”

All students in the Slytherin table were silent. Forks being held midair, mouths agape all expecting Krum’s volatile reaction at the unnecessary advice and unwanted feedback.

“In total this would probably increase your turnover ratio and shorten the average time it takes you to capture and catch the snitch.”

Absolute and utter silence. With the exception of other students conversing and enjoying their dinners on other tables.

“Exa,” Viktor spoke after a moment in his native Bulgarian. “Vot did you say your name vas again?” To everyone’s surprise he cracked a smiled and let out a short laugh.

Tracey grinned triumphantly. Leave it to her to make friends with Krum in the most unconventional of ways. She babbled on excitedly about how disappointed she was there would be no Quidditch this year because of the Triwizard Tournament and that regardless of it she was still planning on following her rigorous morning exercise training. To everyone’s SHOCK Krum asked if he could join.

Nel was gawking with her eyes narrowed in blatant disbelief when she heard her name sound behind her in a long, nasal, draw which she was more than familiar with. She turned to see Professor Snape standing behind her, arms crossed behind his back, his typical bored scowl on his sallow face.

“My office. Now.” He interrupted, demanding her presence.

Several “Oooooooooohs,” sounded in the Slytherin table.

“First day and you already have detention?” Theo whispered to her disbelievingly. She let out an irritated sigh before standing up and following after the Potions Master. Great. What now?

“I don’t pretend to know or care about your whereabouts over the course of the summer,” He began in a most welcoming tone when they arrived at his office. Yes, that was sarcasm. “However, seeing as you have been placed under the guardianship of the Lestranges I will ask. How was your holiday Saintday?” He said to her as he rounded around his desk and took leaned forward looking at her with expectant eyes.

For a moment Elowen flashbacked to her summer. Worse things had happened to her than being held hostage in a painful etiquette school.

“It was fine,” She responded flatly.

“And your… dysfunctional emotional control?” He raised his eyes leaning his weight on his palms.

“It’s fine,” She was about to say but before she could react, he raised his wand at her and peered inside of her mind. Grappling with the sudden invasion she struggled to stand, knees growing weak and slowly sat on the chair across from his desk. Visions of arriving at the House of Lestrange suddenly flashed. The dining table that kicked, being under the command of the Imperio curse, meeting Ellar, sipping wine in the private study, the taste of wine that awful bitterness that made goosebumps erect on her arms, trying to hold Ellar’s hand while he showed her the diving cliffs behind his house, arriving at Malfoy Manor after the Quidditch World Cup–

“That’s private,” She rasped, wincing at the mental strain. Not wanting him to know what she saw, what she felt.

“Nothing is private to the Dark Lord.”

Having a mental shut down she envisioned a large, metal safe box one which shut Snape out and locked itself the combination dial spinning a couple of times before clicking shut loudly.

“What?” She breathed out beyond perplexed, snapping out of the mental trace. She looked at him both of her eyes blown wide at the shocking revelation.

“Mediocre at best, but holds promise,” the professor acknowledged. Which coming from Snape could’ve been considered praise.

Still in shock at his words she narrowed her eyes at him with suspicion. “What did you say professor?” she raised a hand at him asking him to stop with his mental invasion. “About the Dark Lord?” She specified after receiving a deafening silence as an answer.

Professor Snape looked deep in thought, almost as if he was rehearsing a game of wizard’s chess in his head. One that had each and every move carefully calculated. “Are you really so daft you’ve barely realized I have been teaching you Occlumency lessons for the past year?”

“Occlumency?” she repeated the unfamiliar term. A term Hogwarts student didn’t learn until their fifth or sixth year. A lesson or magical art that wasn’t even in the school’s curriculum.

“Occlumency, the art of magically closing one’s mind against Legilimency, or mind readers,” Snape explained. “Do try and keep up Saintday,” he drawled out sounding almost irritated as he lectured the fourth-year student.

She processed this lecture for the first time, actually taking it and remaining silent for a moment as she soaked in the severity of the teaching. All the time the professor had sacrificed to sit with her and lecture her about this art. Nobody in their right mind would put somebody through such a painful process if it weren’t to bear any fruits.

“Why?” She asked shaking her head slightly at his perplexing generosity. “Why do I need to learn Occlumency? What does this have to do with the Lestranges?”

Snape looked deep in thought as pondered on what his next move would be taking proper time to properly choose what his next words would be and what they would symbolize. Both weighting the impact and significant momentum they would have on the young lady standing before him.

“You’re more than familiar with the events that transpired at the Quidditch World Cup this summer.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Somehow, someway, Snape knew she had been there. Or at least that she was aware of the current events that had transpired only some days ago.

“I was there,” She admitted eyeing the copy of the Daily Prophet that some of her fellow house mates had been reading the same day earlier. Her eyes were particularly focused on the vivid moving image of the Dark Lord’s mark knotting in the dark skies giving her an eerie feeling. “The Lestranges had the reputation of being one of the most devoted followers of You-Know-Who.” Snape approached her rounding around her with his head help up high and hands held behind his back. “Some of them preferred the kiss of death or even rotting in the cells of Azkaban for eternity rather than denouncing the Dark Lord’s name…” She looked over her shoulder to see a obscure look suddenly flash over Snape’s pale features. From the way he was speaking, it almost sounded as if he was a dark follower of Voldemort. At this point, she wouldn’t have been surprised. Snape was cold, cruel, abusive to an extent, but there was some humanity to him. It was hard to read where his allegiances would truly lie. “I hope you don’t think their guardianship and sudden interest in an orphan… like you… stems from the kindness of their… hearts.”

The girl couldn’t help but mock at the professors studied words. “What, would they, possibly, want with me?” She spoke slowly pronouncing each and every word and sentence in the same dramatic tone and with the same weighted emotion that he did, yet hers was mocking, almost sarcastic. “I’m just an orphan,” she said dully and that she was. No name, no claims to any fortunes, no blood rights or privileges. “An orphan who speaks Parseltongue.” She was silent at the statement. “Do you know who was infamous for speaking to snakes as well?” She could feel the professor standing right behind her. Still silent she simply nodded. She had studied this in one of her many detentions with the professor. Salazar Slytherin? Harry Potter? Harpo the Foul? Were only a few names of other fluent Parselmouths through history; However, that was not the he was seeking and she knew it. “Voldemort,” she recognized.

Snape arched a most intriguing eyebrow at her response.

“Dare you, utter his name, “ he rounded about her and returned to his desk. “You-Know-Who, is quite a mouthful, Sir,” She replied snidely with just the edge of her lips turning up in a sly leer at having earned a reaction out of the professor.

“This isn’t a laughing matter Saintday!” He suddenly snapped almost like that time she had gifted him the gloves to him on Christmas when he lost it. He slapped his hands on his desk and glared dangerously. Nel flinched at the harshness in his tone.

“Why sir?” She pressed, more curious than intimidated. “Would the Dark Lord want me? He himself is fluent in Parseltongue. He doesn’t need me.”

Keeping his gaze lowered, Snape braced himself for what he was about to admit or reveal to the Girl Who Died. He took in a deep breath bracing himself both emotionally and intellectually for what was to follow. Whatever he was about to say had to be said carefully.

“He doesn’t need you for that.” The Professor looked at her with his dark eyed zeroed in on her stunned expression. He knew. Snape knew, he had always known who she was, where she came from, the countless of secrets and questions that to this day burdened her. “Then for what?” She jumped to her feet, a furious look on her face.

Snape was silent. “I know Sirius Black was the one that left me at the Abbey! I know somebody had me! I know that I am cursed! I know they did unspeakable things to me!” She shouted at him willed with rage. She was practically heaving when she pulled out her wand and pointed it at her professor with meaning to offend.

“You’ll tell me,” She threatened ardently, a deep grimace on her face. “You’ll tell me! Now!” She exclaimed voice cracking, hand slightly shaking as she steadied her grip. Heart in her throat suddenly making it hard to breath.

Regardless of her offense Snape remained calm and collected. “Or what?” He arched a black eyebrow again flashing her an intrigued look yet remaining completely unamused. “You’ll make my head swell like a balloon? Make me vomit slugs?”

She faltered slightly, lowering her want. Yet she did not lower her weapon or eyes from his direction. She meant it. She would hurt him if she had to. Professor or not, more skilled or not. She wouldn’t hesitate in attacking. “You tell me,” she barked out heatedly.

“You are more naïve than I originally perceived if you think there is any possibility that your childish spells will have any effect on me,” He said calmly walking around his desk with his guard lowered and pulling out what looked like a wine bottle from underneath.

“Tell me!” She demanded with a scream.

The professor remained cool, “Sit,” he ordered in an icy voice as he uncorked the bottle he had reached for. With his same hand he dove into his drawers and pulled out two chalices with his fingers. Setting them on the desk he proceeded to pour an orange golden liquid into both of them. Was he giving her alcohol?

“Lulo juice,” He began to explain almost as if he could’ve heard the unasked question. It was just juice. “Fine extract from a rare nightshade.”

Taking the chalice in her hand she looked at the juice with suspicion. Something was off. Looking up she saw his judging eyes carefully watching her before he brought the chalice to his mouth and drank. She hadn’t seen him slip anything into it and he was also drinking it. Hesitantly she did the same when she suddenly caught a whiff of Valerian springs.

She hadn’t made a mistake. She couldn’t trust Snape. Especially when he was attempting to drug her with forgetfulness potion.

In what seemed like a half of a second the chalice slipped from her hands and again she pointed her wand at him.

“Petrificus T-“

She wasn’t fast enough.

“Obliviate!”

xxx

A brunette wearing a Slytherin uniform walked around the corridors of Hogwarts at night. A dazed look on her face as she looked up at the many moving and talking portraits with much intrigue.

She seemed lost in thought or wonderment at the moving pictures.

“Nel!” She heard someone call her name. Still with a misty look on her face she turned down the corridor to look at somebody familiar. A friend? What was his name again? Right, Harry who was walking with Fred or George was it? and Hermine.

“Hiya,” She said with a loopy smile.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Harry said. “What happened to you after the Quidditch match?”

She gave him a confused look. Quidditch? What was he talking about?

“We lost you,” Hermine said.

“We looked for you,” The red head added with a concerned look.

“We couldn’t find you,” the girl again added for her friend.

“You-You never answered any of my letters,” Harry said sounding hurt.

“Quidditch?” She had to ask for further clarification.

The three Gryffindors all shared a perplexed look amongst themselves.

“The Quidditch World Cup?” The tall ginger boy said narrowing his eyes with the same confusion he shared with his friends.

“Oh, right,” She shook her head slightly. “Sorry Fred. Guess it slipped my mind,” She smiled at the three sheepishly. “Luckily, I made it out safe. No harm done.”

“Fred?” Ron said sounding even more puzzled.

“She’s been obliviated,” Hermione suddenly realized as she took in the lack of recent memory and dazed and confusion the girl seemed to be displaying as a symptom.

“Obliviated?” Harry looked at Hermione with surprise. “Like Lockhart?”

“But why?”

Hermione stepped closer taking a look at the Slytherin’s dazed expression. She seemed unharmed, just stunned and confused. This had to had been done recently.

“She seems to remember the game. So, a particular memory must have been extracted from her. She should regain full consciousness in a couple of hours.”

The boy with glasses stepped forward and reached for her arm carefully. “Nel where are you coming from? Who did this to you?”

The perplexed look on her face was the answer he needed.

“Right- never mind,” He said awkwardly. “I’ll get you back to the Slytherin Common Room,” he said leading her to the side.

“We’re glad you’re okay!” Hermione called after the two as they made their way to the dungeons.

Harry escorted Nel down the stairs and into the dungeon where the Slytherin Common Room was located.

“Nel,” He licked his chapped lips. “Why didn’t you answer any of my letters?” He asked hoping she wouldn’t be confused enough to not give him an answer.

“Oh?” She gave him an odd look. “I was tied up to a chair for a week with Astringe Snare,” she explained her cruel reality witch ease and casualness.

“What?” He stammered suddenly looking at her with disbelief. Part of Harry was hoping delusion was a side effect of having been obliviated.

“Hmm? What?” She mused casually as she walked with her hands held behind her back. “It’s like Devil’s Snare, you know?”

Never in a million years would Elowen Saintday have admitted to something like this in her fully five senses. Pain was something she internalized and compartmented, nothing something she shared with others. It would then become a vulnerability and being vulnerable simply made you prey to worse things in the world.

She would’ve never said this to another soul, much less to Harry Potter.

“I know what Astringe Snare is!” Harry shook his head and pulling on her arms brought her to a halt. “Who did this to you?”

“My guardian.” Again, another admission.

Harry was stunned. He looked at her with his eyes wide. A lot more things made sense now. Like Nel’s inability to conjure a Patronus. Her hostility around others, violent outburst, low self-esteem. But Harry didn’t pity her, if anything he understood. It was the kind of life he was also familiar with.

“Did you-?“ He began. “Did they-?” he wanted to ask more questions yet couldn’t bring himself to do it. His morbid curiosity demanding more details. “Are you okay?” He finally asked with apprehension.

“Me?” She shrugged with a knotted eyebrow. “Are any of us ever really okay?”

Fair point.

“Nel,” he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I…,” He lowered his eyes. Having also never conversed about the abuse he endured at the hands of the Dursley’s for years. The neglect, all those sleepless nights locked up without dinner in the dusty cupboard with spiders as his sole company. It wasn’t only the physical abuse, there was also the emotional part of it. Being called worthless and constantly being reminded that you’re waste of space by your family, people who are supposed to care and love you, could be really painful. The hitting with kitchen spoons and whooping with belt buckles whenever he lost control of his magical abilities-

Harry knew what it was like.

“I know what it’s like,” he also admitted.

Something he had never revealed to another soul be it Ron or Hermione.

“I understand,” he said in a low voice. “I also…” He choked on his words, being unable to speak with the sudden knot that had formed in his throat. “If you ever want to, you know, talk about it,” He offered awkwardly.

Still under the aftereffects of a memory loss charms she still look a little confused, but it seemed like she had grasped the concept of what Harry was saying to her. Simply smiling at him sweetly.

For some reason Harry didn’t feel like she meant it or that it was a sincere smile. If Nel had actually been in her five senses she might’ve bit him for putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Having a late-night stroll with your girlfriend Potter?”

Of course.

Draco Malfoy suddenly entered the dungeon, being escorted by his two loyal followers Crabbe and Goyle who tailed a step or two behind him.

“Are you my boyfriend?” The girl asked cluelessly, remaining unbothered by the question.

“No,” Harry simply answered. He kept his green eyes focused on Malfoy as he descended the steps. She nodded at his answer. “Hey, who’s the cute blond?” She whispered to Harry with a slight grin on her features.

Harry didn’t know if the question made him want to laugh or vomit. She giggled at his reaction.

“Something funny Saintday?” Malfoy threateningly stepped up and sneered getting really close to her. The Slytherin girl didn’t flinch back at the invasion of space. Instead she wore a lazy smile and a dazed look in her eyes. It took him less than a moment to realize there was something off.

“Your face is funny,” She shot back with a lame come back before once again giggling at what seemed to be a very personal joke.

“What did you do to her?” Malfoy accused, his silver eyes darting towards Potter. Wand already drawn in an offensive stance.

Harry did the same. “Me? It was probably one of you snakes,” He glared with disdain.

Hissing sounds echoed the chamber at the mentioning of the word snake and all eyes turned to the Parselmouth in the room.

“What’s she saying?” Goyle asked Harry with an uneasy look on his face.

Gibberish really.

Harry ignored his question and gave a step back. “I found her wondering lost in the hallways. Looks like she’s been obliterated.”

The three Slytherins looked shot at the revelation. “And I’m not leaving until Davis or Nott come out and get her,” Harry stated boldly pointing his weapons at all three of the Slytherins not flatering in his words.

Draco looked at his rival for a moment, an unamused expression on his face. “And they say chivalry is dead,” he sneered with a mocking laugh which made his friends follow in suit and also laugh. “She’s one of us. We’ll take it from here, Potter.”

With that he nodded his head to the side and without any question Goyle put a meaty claw on the girl’s shoulder and roughly pulled her away from Harry’s side and into theirs. Where she simply stood eyeing her surroundings and the two hulking gorilla boys that were standing next to her.

“I’m not-“ Harry was silence when the wand was again raised to his face. Draco stepped forward glowering at him with hatred. It was that same look he had given both him and Hermione on top of the Dark Tower the night they had helped Sirius escape ‘Not a word.’

Harry wouldn’t have trusted Malfoy with anything, much less with a stunned person, but he had taken care of his friend before. Maybe Malfoy was vile and rotten, but what choice did Harry have? He wasn’t wrong she was one of them and odds were they weren’t fetching Davis or Nott any time soon.

If Malfoy had successfully managed to care for her once he could do it again. Right?

However, how odd- for two people that are constantly jumping at each other’s throats for them to care so much about the other at the same time.

Without another word Harry turned away and left.

The boys escorted the dazed Slytherin inside the Common Room.

Nel was looking in awe at the large dark shadows of creatures swimming that could be seen from the tinted windows of the common room.

“Will she be okay?” Crabbe asked sounding almost concerned before retreating. “I’m really going to need someone to write my Defense Against the Dark Arts papers for me this year.”

Draco fought the terrible urge to roll his eyes. However, he couldn’t help but glare as his two friends retreated.

The moment they were gone he turned to the girl who was blankly starring at him.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded to know. If he could put his money on it, he would’ve betted for that slimy French bastard. He did not trust him one bit. Hell, he even preferred bloody Saint Potter to that frog.

“Who?” She repeated still confused.

“Yes. Who?” He insisted.

“Who? Who?” She pressed.

“WHO?”

“You sound like an owl,” She laughed obnoxiously before slapping a knee only making him angrier.

“Sit.” He said. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. When she didn’t comply, he placed his hands on her shoulders and lead her to a sofa chair where he gently pushed her down to the cushioned seat.

“What is the last thing you recall?”

Looking as if she was deep in thought, she scratched her chin perplexed. As hard as she tried to wind her memory it was completely blank, a whole chunk of it having been removed from her consciousness. “I don’t know… I was looking at some paintings?”

“We were in the Great Hall having dinner-” he began. The blank look on her face made it evident that she did not remember that. “Davis harassed Krum to be her friend-“ Again a blank stare. Looking for a prop he pulled of two golden galleons from his pocket. “You lost a bet?”

“Hey! That’s mine!” She suddenly exclaimed greedily reaching for his hand.

Leave it to Saintday to remember that. She could’ve been a niffler in another life. Fisting the money away with a teasing leer edging his mouth he put it away. “Bet’s a bet. I don’t care if you’ve been obliviated or not.”

Question was who? And why?

He frowned at her slightly before taking a seat in the sofa chair across from her.

“Snape told you to meet him in his office. Did you ever make it?”

She shrugged with a pursed smile, raising her arms up. Did she ever make it? Snape was a slimy git too, but why would he obliviate a student? What could she have possibly done? Or what could she possibly known or witnessed that would compromise someone in such a way they had to obliviate her?

xxx

At the same time Snape anxiously paced back in forth in the Headmaster’s office. A deep canyon had formed in between his eyebrows from the deep scowling he couldn’t seem to be able to stop. He ran his hands through his greasy hair anxiously and repeatedly always pushing it back over his forehead as he paced from one side of the room to the other.

“She’s not ready Severus,” Dumbledore, looking down at the man from his half-moon glasses looked at him seriously with both of his held hands falling on his standing lap.

“She’ll never be ready!” The other man snaped back. “There is no humane way to prepared someone for that type of revelation.”

Angry. Snape fought the urge to kick over a small table, to pull the curtains down and scream, he fought the urge to destroy something, maybe even himself. His shoulders weighted down with all the guilt his soul bore. Dark flashbacks came to him about what happened during that obscure night. The cries of a dark creature still fresh in his memory, the shattered stone, the pain that came with the tolling price of practicing such dark magic.

“What do you recon we do?” Eyes darting across the room, Snape’s black ones finally focused on Dumbledore. “Wait for the Dark Lord to seize her? She’s already under the guardianship of the Lestranges and closer to him than ever!”

“It is her purpose,” Dumbledore said coldly with much indifference. “As I’ve told you before, it does not matter where Elowen Saintday resides, the Dark Lord will find her. How many more lives must be lost?”

Snape looked at him darkly. Dumbledore had been the one to send the order to terminate the existence of this child… or well… thing, whatever it was that she was. Of course, he would have an indifference to whether she lived or not. She served no purpose to him. She wasn’t ‘The Chosen One’ if anything she was the antithesis to that.

“She’s a child,” Snape looked absolutely torn. “She has a soul, feelings. I have witnessed not only her rage and horrors, but her empathy as well.” For a brief moment he flashbacked to that Christmas Day when she gifted him the most atrocious gloves he had ever seen. Perhaps they were beyond repair and useless at its best, but what they meant… It was a reminder that the child standing before him was in fact human. She was capable of feeling not just darkness but love, care and empathy amongst all other emotions that make humans, human. It wasn’t fair that she had been brought into this world and branded to fulfill the Dark Lord’s ill purposes. In truth Nel Saintday was an abomination, the type of creature muggles would describe as a monster in lore and tales of horrific terror. How could one stop the world from turning? Save her from her own horrific destiny? Her life wasn’t fair, none of it was from the moment of her creation to what her horrible demise would be.

Whatever she was, whatever thing or creature she was, she should’ve been empty and void of all emotions. A creature like her shouldn’t be able to feel.

“She’s cursed Severus. You know she has already been branded as his. The stars are written on her face.” Dumbledore stepped forward to attempt and bring some comfort to the anguished man.

“She needs to know.”

Albus looked at his most loyal follower with sad eyes before placing a comforting touch on his shoulder. “The time will come,” he said. “When everything will fall into place. Secrets will be unraveled, and prophecies will be fulfilled. For now,” He stepped back and with a lost gaze focused his eyes on the crackling fireplace that warmed his cold office. “It is best that Ms. Saintday remain under our care and in this institution. For now, she’ll be most safe here at Hogwarts.”

xxx

BONUS gif:

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voidcat · 5 years ago

Text

– Gekka Bijin

Gekka Bijin, also known as the Beauty Under the Moon or the Queen of the Night, is a species of cactus and one of the most cultivated species in the genus. It blooms rarely and only at night.

Oikawa finds himself at a party he couldn't care less for, searching for someone he cares about a little too much.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is mainly inspired by the song Bodys, I suggest listening to it as you read. | ao3

The new song that takes over the place makes the party seem like something out of a mediocre America coming-of -age movie. Oikawa looks around, what was he even doing here?

The beat starts to change and what he assumes to be the main melody begins to take over the room. The chances of finding the one person he was looking for were low, very low. And he is sure he had spent all his luck in life already. Agreeing to attend chibi-chan’s party wasn’t the brightest idea he has had but he had to start somewhere, preferably night time; so the darkness and the dim lights surrounding him could hide his face in case his mask happens to slip. That’s not what I meant to say at all. I mean- I’m sick of meaning, I just want to hold you.

You and me both; he cannot help but think, sparing a glance at the unfamiliar faces and the clashing bodies around him. The whole place stinks of sweat, alcohol and a pinch of tobacco. He scrunch his nose at that. Is the chorus yet? No, it’s just the building of the verse…

“What type of idiot even comes up with such lame lyrics anyway? I don’t even want to think who listens to them...” he’s complaining to himself, again.

“Well I’d bet my money on that girl by the stereo who seems to be having too much fun.” Oikawa didn’t even realize he was complaining out loud until he heard the familiar voice reply to him. He looks up to the direction of the said girl. “Is she... holding an empty bottle of vodka as a mic?” He tilts his head as he tries to make sense of the scene before him, trying his best to ignore the owner of the voice deliberately.

“Holding onto the bottle, would be a more proper expression I think.” This time he looks back at the voice.

His time in California has done wonders on him, that’s for sure. His, now tanner, skin compliments his deep olive green eyes as always, his hair slightly ruffled and he can spot a little bit of a blush on his face. Could be from the alcohol, he assumes, if Iwai was drinking.

Everything around him is in a blur, his eyes do not see anything that’s not him.

“Long time no see Iwa-chan!” he says at last, one of his signature smiles decorating his face. “What brings you to chibi-chan’s party?” Iwa frowns at that, must’ve realized the smile is fake. “Dragged in by Mattsun and Makki the moment I said I was going to spend the night by myself.” Mattsun and Makki. It has been a while he last talked to them properly, and he hasn’t been messaging with Iwaizumi like he once did either, so that must say something. The distance between them put its toll on their life-long friendship. Reading, more like trying, his messages of “shittykawa” in his voice can never compare to hearing the awful nickname, even if it’s followed by a hit.

Interrupted from his train of thoughts, he watches Iwa’s gaze go down. “Nice tshirt.” Right, he forgot he was wearing that tonight. The writing ‘zacco platypus’ on his chest feels heavier than ever.

Another trademark smile. “What can I say, Iwa-chan. I missed ya!” He says in his typical singsong tone. The unsettling silence takes over as they stare at one another, both seem to be deep in thought.

The truth is Iwaizumi wasn’t the one avoiding Oikawa, at least not as obviously. Ever since high school ended and their lives got separated by an ocean, Oikawa was left with too much time to overthink the smallest things.

He realizes he hasn’t said anything nor made a gesture to show he heard Iwa yet. “So you’re here by yourself? No one new in your life?” He isn’t sure if he wants to hear his friend’s reply to the latter.

“Tried once or twice, didn’t stick long. I won’t ask you back the same question though, you’ve spammed me with all the gruesome details just as they happened.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Sure, talking excitedly about a date gone nice or the little things that attracted him further to his dates were something he let his friend know.

But he never told him how he tried dating men; how he was always searching for calloused hands, sharp green eyes, messy spiky hair; how he wished he could hear the mean nicknames instead of cute names of endearment or the silly pet names. How often he thought about what the two of them could have been, how he never acted towards this dream, the fear of ruining their friendship nagging his brain.

The drunk girl starts to sing along loudly: “Well, so what? We're young!” something he can’t put a finger on changes in her tone. “We’re thin, most of us.

We're alive-“ A pause. “Most of us.” She ends it in a rather sad tone.

“Well, they seem to be having fun.” Iwai spares a glance at the dancing figures around them, attempting to keep the conversation alive. “I’d be having fun too, if I consumed booze recklessly and lost myself completely I guess.” Oikawa says with a roll of eyes.

Then his body sets into motion before he can comprehend what his hands are doing. He puts his hands on Iwa’s shoulders, truly a sight out of a cheesy teen romcom. He wants to scoff at his cliché-ness.

He can see the shock painted on Iwaizumi’s face.

“Those are you got some nice shoulders I'd like to put my hands around them I'd like to put my hands around them”

“Oi baka-kawa, what are you doing?”

“Following the instructions, and trying to have fun, assumed acting a bit more like them could help achieve that.” He points at the people around them with his head. They start to swing in an awkward manner, not exactly matching the song’s pace or rhythm. Iwa’s hands find his waist.

“So what’s with the sudden change of your messages lately?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Iwa-chan-“ Oikawa tries to brush it off, breaking eye contact but it seems Iwa won’t let go of this any time soon.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, I’m not in the mood for your games or blatant acting so you better explain to me what’s been bothering you.” His demeanor is stern but he can hear the concern in his voice.

He wants to turn his gaze away, avoid the piercing looks Iwa is sending his way, but if he’s really going to do it tonight, there’s a chance this may be the last time he will get to see his face like this, up-close.

Meeting Iwa’s stare wasn’t the sanest thing to do for Oikawa because he cannot find it in himself to blink. He wishes for time to stop and to stay in this exact moment forever. With his hands on his shoulders, Iwa’s hands on his waist, gazing into each other’s eyes and getting lost in them; everything besides them is a mixture of noise and colors. No longer resisting the demanding look in Iwa’s eyes, Oikawa opens his mouth at last:

“I was afraid I’d say something wrong, ruin something between us or cause a mess I couldn’t fix because there’d be this entire ocean between the two of us.”

He stops to take a deep breathe. “I guess I was afraid I’d do something stupid… (like this)” The last bit remains unsaid but it’s heavy in the air and they both know it. He speaks in a whisper and leans in for a kiss.

All he can feel is how warm and soft being this close to Iwaizumi feels. It feels different than any other kiss he has ever had and he knows nothing will be the same after it. He’s too focused on his worrying, he doesn’t even realize whether Iwa responds back to his kiss or not. And so he pulls back to examine his face and get a good look at him in this shitty lightning one last time.

“Oi, if the idea of the two of us is stupid to you, maybe you shouldn’t have gone in for a kiss.”

At that moment Oikawa is at a loss of words. He stands with his jaw hanging open, trying to process his words. He was expecting a shove, maybe an angry yell, a hit in the head or Iwaizumi to leave immediately without sparing him a glance. But this?.. This was not on that list, not even an option at all.

Having read him through his various moods all his life, Iwa seems to know what is exactly going in Oikawa’s head. So he pulls the idiot back to him, his right hand on his jaw, for a second kiss.

No fireworks, no explosions; all those writers and painters must have been wrong all this time.

Because the kiss he shares with the person he loves more than anything else in this world feels like something he long searched for and finally found. And in a sense, it is exactly that.

Kissing Iwa in that very moment comes natural to him just like breathing, eating, doing a jump serve or setting for him. It feels like coming home to rest after a long day, to eat milk bread after craving it for so long, to watch the sun set after a well spent day.

Kissing Iwaizumi Hajime feels like home.

He is sure somewhere far away a queen of the night blooms just as they kiss.

They pull away slowly. Every action they take together, they’ve grown accustomed to it, in perfect sync and tonight is no exception. They can see each other smiling faintly. One of his genuine ones, Iwaizumi knows. Oikawa rests his forehead on Iwa’s and they stand like that for a little longer.

I got so fucking romantic, I apologize.

A new song starts to play through the speakers.

“Seriously, what’s up with those lyrics?” Oikawa starts shaking his head, still smiling.

His whiny statement goes ignored by Iwaizumi: “What do you say, we go out and… catch up?”

He’s met with intense and light brown eyes suddenly directing their attention back to him, there must be supernovas hidden inside them, he cannot help but think, a lump forming in his throat.

“And we can… put a name on what we are, if you’d like that, I mean-“ He is cut off by a quick peck on the lips and next thing he knows, he’s being dragged away from the party by the only person he has always loved and cared for with his whole heart.

As the obnoxious music they left behind fades into the background, Oikawa makes a mental note to send that girl a bottle of her favorite drink; marching towards nowhere in particular, hand in hand with the one he loves.

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atiny-piratequeen · 5 years ago

Text

Character Analysis: Park Seonghwa, the 'Frozen Prince'

Name: Park Seonghwa

Languages: Sabir, English, Portugese, French, Turkish, Greek, Arabic, Korean (Modern Day) Japanese (Modern Day), Mandarin (Modern Day), Thai (Modern Day), Italian (Modern Day)

Crew Position: First Mate, Tactician

Powers: Cryokinesis/Ice Powers (Inherited from Greco-Roman God, Boreas)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: Eastern Facing located on his right wrist , Blue Celestite

Eye Color: Gray (Natural)/ Snow White (Demonic Form)

Hair Color: Blonde (Natural)/ Jet Black (Demonic Form)

Likes: Reading, Seafood, Making Flower Crowns (He’ll never admit it without a fight), Training, Horseback Riding

Dislikes: Lazy People, Cowardice, Fruitless Gossip

Prince Park Seonghwa.

A man rumored amongst townsfolk to be blessed by the gods. Unusual blonde hair, stunning gray eyes, it has been a long time since the kingdom has seen such a capable leader.

A foreigner, brought to the Mediterranean kingdom by marriage, he spent the entirety of his childhood learning to be the model prince. The prince’s posture is perfect, he never dodged his studies, he could tame the wildest mare, to everyone, he was the obvious choice for the kingdom’s king.

Something...more than a few people are opposed to.

First Mate Park Seonghwa

No longer a prince, but still just as elegant, Seonghwa has yet to lose any of his old habits during his time out at sea. Being the first person to join the crew once Hongjoong became captain and the first person to be turned immortal, Seonghwa worked hard to prove himself and continues to be one of the most reliable members of the crew.

Seonghwa may be a little stiff when it comes to meeting new people, but being so close to a certain ‘Kind Pirate King’ has opened his mind-and heart-to meeting new people and the prospect of second chances.

-Mythology-

As one of the four wind gods of the seasons in Greco-Roman mythology, Boreas is the purple-winged god of the North Winds and Winter alike. In some depictions, instead of his wings being purple, he has white wings with purple attire fluttering behind him.

His parents are Astraeus and Eos. Astraeus is often said to be the father of two notable sets of sons; the Astra Planeta, five sons representing the stars. The other set of sons are the Anemoi, the four wind gods, with Boreas representing the frigid North Wind.

Boreas’ wife, Oreithyia, (the princess of Athens, as her father was King Erekhtheus) was swept away by him one day as she played in a riverside meadow, with companions (remember, folks. Don’t sweep away your crush and basically kidnap them. That’s not cool.)

Older tellings would depict Boreas residing in Thrace, an area described as the lands around the north of Thessaly. In those depictions, Boreas lived either in a mountain’s cave, or in a beautiful palace, with his home said to be upon the Balkan Mountains (or Haemus Mons).

Oreithyia would become the immortal wife of Boreas and bear him four children; Zetes and Calais (their sons), Chione and Cleopatra (their daughters). (Also, no, this Cleopatra isn’t that Cleopatra). All of their offspring have their own tales about them, and Chione is even regarded as the goddess of snow.

Boreas’ tales are not as widely told, compared to other gods and goddesses, but he has been mentioned in some of Homer’s tales (specifically in Achilles’ tale), as well as being included in Aesop’s Fables, in a contest between himself and sun god Helios.

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

When Seonghwa completely reverts into his demon form, his hair will go from whatever color it currently is to an inky black color, with his gray eyes lightening to an almost pure white color. Elongated ruby-colored marks will appear over his eyes, with the one over his left eye being slightly longer than his right. The same elongated ruby-colored marking will stretch over his lips to form an elongated smile, though I assure you, if you make this form come out, the last thing he’ll be doing is smiling.

Having been bestowed Boreas’ power, Seonghwa can create ice and snow at will and his prefered method of combat is to dual wield his falcatas, one being the rune-engraved one he took from his kingdom and the other being an ice one he forms at will.

Seonghwa has mastered his power, using it in small applications here and there for domestic things aboard the ship such as keeping food items cold to prolong their life while out at sea and also using his powers to slow opponents in combat. Since his powers are a part of him, no amount of cold will affect him negatively.

In fact, if he was in the tundra or somewhere equally as cold, his powers would only be heightened.

Despite his proficiency with his falcatas, as well as any other form of blade, Seonghwa is more than capable to fight hand and hand, and will use his ice powers to freeze body parts of opponents he touches.

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. Seonghwa’s character song is Friction by Imagine Dragons.

I’ll only go through some verses and talk a bit about their connections I put to the chapter. If you haven’t read Chapter Two of Against the Tide, I suggest you do that first, as the song breakdown includes some major spoilers.

‘Get down with the victim

We both know you need them

You're stuck in the middle

Of all irrelevance

And your heart is beating

'Cause you know that you gotta

Get out of the middle

And rise to the top now’

Seonghwa’s accomplishments overshadow that of his older brother, Zafer’s. The bloodborne prince is lazy and very much inadequate, but believes it is his birthright to be crowned prince regardless. Feeling victimized and finally feeling the weight of his adequacy, Zafer decides to rise out of his mediocrity, unfortunately at the expense of everything.

‘You can't fight the friction

So ease it off

Can't take the pressure

So ease it off

Don't tell me to be strong

Ease it off

You can't fight the friction

So ease it off’

Zafer runs from his problems and finds the easy way out of things, while Seonghwa tackles his problems, no matter how difficult, head on. Though these lyrics can be directed towards Zafer and his avoidance of responsibility and desire to ‘ease’ his responsibilities off onto someone else, the delivery in-song fits perfectly well with scenes where there is physical conflict. Whenever I envision this song, I definitely imagine Seonghwa fighting with his falcata in-hand. The power, the intensity, all of it kept in every graceful and deadly swing of his blade.

‘Oh why can't you let go

Like a bird in the snow

This is no place to build your home’

In the middle of Seonghwa’s transformation, he reveals his true fears, how he doesn’t need to trust in anyone, how him opening up and trusting someone (his brother) got the closest person to him (Queen Dahlia, his mother) killed.

The Boreas-infused version of Seonghwa nearly takes complete hold of him, had it not have been for Hongjoong breaking the ice-literally.

Once he’s calmed down, defeated his demonic self and taken control, Seonghwa is much more open to trusting others, though he still often takes the longest to warm up (ha) to newer members of the crew.

-Character Blurb-

Seonghwa gently wove various tropical flowers into one another, a small, peaceful look on his face as he held up the tiny ring, jolting when he looked past the hole to find Hongjoong staring curiously at him. He startled, all but throwing the ring of flowers behind him as he stared at Hongjoong with wide eyes.

“P-Putois-”

“What was that?”

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed as he moved to hide the ring with his body as Hongjoong tried to peek onto the bed.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

Hongjoong dove onto the bed, laughing merrily as Seonghwa tried to scramble and snatch the ring out of view. The captain wrapped a shadow around his wrists, yanking them back before he grabbed the ring, blinking in wonder at the simple, elegant item.

“It’s a ring of flowers. Why are you hiding this?” The smaller man mused, sitting half way in Seonghwa’s lap. Seonghwa went beet red, clearing his throat as he took the ring, hesitantly putting it around his wrist as he looked away, huffing.

“Petite peste-” He muttered before he sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair.

“It’s...embarrassing. It reminds me of my mother. We would make them together…” He trailed off, biting his lip.

Hongjoong looked at the flower before he smiled, wrapping his legs around Seonghwa’s waist, holding his hand out as an assortment of blossoms grew from his palm. Seonghwa’s lips parted in surprise as Hongjoong held his hand out.

“Show me how to make them, then. We can make them together.” He offered. Seonghwa blinked in surprise before he chuckled and nodded, kissing his head lightly.

“Oui, mon putois. Pay attention, okay?” He moved Hongjoong out of his lap and showed him step by step, all with a small smile on his face.

-M.List-

#fie writes #against the tide #att character analysis #park seonghwa #seonghwa

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ofhelens · 4 years ago

Photo

HELEN WORTHINGTON: AUDITIONING FOR THE ROLE OF LADY MACBETH

oh boy. okay, so without rambling too much..........originally, i wasn’t going to have helen audition for anyone. why would she? with the possible exception of lady macduff, macbeth is full of characters who are totally unlike helen & anyone she’s played up-to-date. plus, the subject of the play is just a little too on the nose for her - and given her self denial at the moment, that isn’t a can of worms she’s looking to open. however, as i was writing this, it became clearer and clearer to me that helen playing lady macbeth would go really well alongside her general trajectory in the roleplay (downhill, like a damn roller coaster) and i could definitely see the “out damn spot” monologue playing well alongside some juicy orson reveal stuff :) also poetically...seeing “the ingenue” go from basically being the embodiment of an angel to playing one of shakespeare’s darkest heroines is...chefs kiss.

it’s strange to say that my character surprised me...(because im writing them?!) but yeah...helen surprised me!! she’s absolutely terrified by the idea of playing someone who is a little darker, a little stranger - but that’s exactly why she should do it!! i also genuinely think it’ll help her grow as an actor, which is something i really want to see happen. helen is pretty mediocre - but she doesn’t have to be!!! the only way we can grow as individuals is by challenging ourselves - something i’m keen to see heidi make happen.

having said that, i am not ride-or-die for lady macbeth and do not expect her to be cast as her at all!! if orson was casting, helen would be lady macduff without a question (we stan a self aware queen!) - and now that she’s made that point explicit to heidi, i feel like the latter will be way more inclined to cast her as anyone-but-that. if not lady macbeth, i could definitely see her playing one of the witches. essentially, i just need helen to play someone with a little more meat, someone who is darker; meaning that as she tries to nail their characterisation, she’s forced to confront some ugly things about herself and almost deal with the darkness in a therapeutic way.

“Helen Worthington.” She had expected stepping out onto the stage to feel more poetic. There was supposed to be sorrow in finality, grief in endings. And this was it. This was the final time she would audition for a play as an Alderidge student - perhaps her final audition all together. Whilst her peers clamoured for the limelight, she would have been perfectly comfortable making this her swan song. A moment passed. “I’ll be auditioning with Cleopatra, Act 5, Scene 2.” She could still hear Zahra’s words of encouragement in the back of her mind, quelling any doubts.

A brief look of surprise crossed Heidi’s face, she glanced down at her paper, as if trying to match the person she saw before her with words on a page. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Alright...am I to assume you’ll be auditioning for Lady MacBeth then?”

It took a moment for Helen’s mind to make the connection. She shook her head firmly. “No - no...no. I could never play Lady MacBeth...she’s...” Too monstrous. Too big a part. Too much like everything I never want to be. Settling on diplomacy, Helen sighed. “I could never do her justice.”

This seemed to interest Heidi. “Why not? Looking at your previous roles - “ She shuffled the papers in her hand “- you seem to have done a standout job with Celia. Lady MacBeth isn’t such a jump. Lines wise, at least.”

Helen shook her head, adamant that Heidi see what she did. “Playing Celia isn’t hard. She’s soft. Dreamy. And a character in a comedy.”

Heidi frowned. “So it’s Shakespeare’s tragedies you’re opposed to? Or being challenged?”

She was so unlike Orson that Helen had to blink twice, just to be sure her senses weren’t tricking her. “No. I don’t like tragedies. Everyone dies. I love theatre because it’s an escape - because it’s a chance to live out someone else’s stories. But why would I want to live like...like Lady MacBeth? She’s a terrible person. She’s a monster. I’d hate to even feel an inch of who she is.” Because what if I’m good at it? What if it’s easy to become her? What does that say about me? About what I’ve done?

“And being challenged?” A dog with a bone, Heidi continued to tug at the remaining loose thread. “Is it a fear of letting people down? Are you afraid that you’re not talented enough?”

Back against the wall, Helen was forced to confront some uncomfortable truths. The purest of which was this: she never had been challenged. Any malevolent thoughts were packed in dusty boxes at the back of her mind, never to be opened. She was practically adored by her peers. Orson had never dragged her out of her comfort zone. She had no idea what being challenged was like. All she knew was that she didn’t want it. “I don’t know.” She conceded, sighing. “I’ve only ever played Celias.”

“And you want things to stay that way?”

Helen closed her eyes. Her mind was awash with a thousand memories - hanging out with Chandler in between As You Like It auditions, kissing Jonah backstage, laughing with Harry, cooking with Julian...she didn’t want things to ever change. That was why she poisoned Orson, wasn’t it? So that they could stay in a glorious summer, where no one ever got hurt. “Yes. Why fix what isn’t broken?”

Heidi shot her a thoughtful glance and opened her mouth as if she was about to ask another question, before shutting it abruptly. “Alright Helen -” She said slowly, nodding. “The stage is yours.”

Now nervous about her audition piece, about what it said about her and about whether she’d be able to deliver; Helen closed her eyes. She had never been to Egypt, never even left the country - but conjured the sensation of balmy evenings, a heart full of love and a crown weighing you down. “Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have immortal longings in me - “ Perhaps she and Cleopatra weren’t so different. She understood what it was to long for immortality of another kind. You could have even said she was desire itself. It was those parts of Cleopatra Helen chose to emphasise.

Pretending to shuffle on a robe, Helen stared out into the audience. Cleopatra saw a kingdom.

“now no more the juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act; I hear him mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath: husband, I come: now to that name my courage prove my title!” The love between Antony and Cleopatra, Helen had decided, was ugly. It was brutal. It should not be celebrated. But she also thought she understood it - the sensation of being bound to someone, of loving them so intensely you would do unspeakable, regrettable, things in their name. If someone dared lay a finger on Antony, would Cleopatra burn them to the ground? Helen was sure she would. As she came to understand Shakespeare’s heroine, she began to lose herself in Cleopatra’s skin in a way she never had before.

Opposite her, but unseen by Helen, Heidi sat up a little straighter.

“I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.” Her kiss brings death. It was a terrifying kind of beautiful. Against her better judgement, Helen’s mind began to wonder...to remember. A wine glass. A toast. Poison. A deceitful smile concealing burning hatred. Who was she to judge Shakespeare’s characters...when she had wrought such destruction...

Lips trembling, Helen paused - momentarily unable to continue with her performance. See, this was why she hated Shakespeare’s dark and decrepit creatures. They drew something carnal out of her...they overwhelmed her, threatening to seize her voice and take it as their own. To be on stage was to be exposed...and this was one reflection she refused to peer into.

Why did Zahra encourage her to use this piece? Did she know something? Or did she just want to see her falter?

Ten seconds later, she regained her composure. Her break did not go unnoticed by Heidi.

Kneeling on the floor, Helen took Iras’ imaginary body into her arms, cradling him as he took his last breaths. Childish and impulsive she may be, but Cleopatra had heart. She wasn’t wholly wicked. Maybe in her performance, Helen could find her a kind of redemption; a thousand years too late.

“Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world. It is not worth leave-taking.” Was Cleopatra brave to watch Iras take his last breaths? Was she a coward for letting Orson die alone? Panic’s familiar sensation threatened to take a hold of her. Breath quickening, her last sentence was slightly slurred as she raced towards the end, to the moment she could be done with Cleopatra, toss her aside and never wear her face again.

Her story was not Cleopatra’s. She and Jonah were not Antony and Cleopatra. She was just a role. It was all make believe.

“See -” Helen began, gentle, but sad. “There’s a reason I don’t get cast as the Lady MacBeth’s of the world.”

Wearing an expression equal parts confusion and sympathy, Heidi returned her smile. “It’s not your fault you’ve never had an opportunity to dig deeper with your characters. Now that isn’t to say that his comedic characters don’t have depth - but it’s like the other side of a coin. If you want to excel as an actor, it’s important you learn how to play both kinds. Life can’t always be sunshine and rainbows.”

Why not? Knowing better than to vocalise her disagreement, Helen swallowed her words. Idealism never...carried well with people. They thought she was a child, head in the clouds, living in a world of fantasy. Had she been a crueller person, she would have asked them why they were so adamant to continue living in a world of grey. So instead, she nodded politely. “Thank you for letting me audition.”

"Thank you for coming in Helen. And props for choosing something we wouldn’t expect.” Glancing down at her sheet, she tapped her nails against the paper. “You still haven’t told me who you’re auditioning for.”

Her first instinct was to steadfastly refuse to audition for any of them - and let the chips fall where they may. Or even to ask to be moved down a year, to the third year’s comedy. “Orson would probably cast me as Lady MacDuff.” It was the only character she ever could have volunteered herself for. Domestic bliss, it was something she embodied easily.

“Well - “ Heidi said, inclining her head, “I’m not Orson.”

No, Helen thought, you’re not. May that be a blessing, and not my curse.

“Would you toss your hat into the ring for Lady MacBeth?”

No, Helen thought. Not a chance in hell. But then, betrayed by her mouth, she nodded. “I’d consider it.”

As she exited the stage, Helen couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

#this is literally the first thing i have ever...designed myself #em did all the thinking on the main graphics #ensembletask

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callowed · 4 years ago

Note

☻☺♪★✄♈♓

Headcanons- Open

//Oh man this one got real long

☻: three things that make my muse sad

Failure. Every piece of Tyrian is built to kill. It’s what he’s good at, it’s what he loves. He took it to extremes, let it consume him. It’s all he is. His purpose in life is to be a weapon, he exists for the sole purpose to be used to harm others. So when he fails in his duties, he feels absolutely worthless. His only value, in his eyes, comes from his ability to hurt. You do not expect a knife to do anything but cut, and you expect it to cut well. If he fails to do the one thing he was put in this world to do, then..... what reason does he have to exist at all? A knife that can’t cut is nothing more than scrap metal, garbage.

Denial. He sees the little seeds of darkness inside of people. He likes to nurture them, to encourage them to indulge in their darker impulses. He’s a firm believer that happiness comes from being comfortable with yourself. Knowing what you enjoy, being honest with it, and pursuing it. To see people deny these parts of themselves feels like holding back. It feels like giving up, not letting yourself live your life to the fullest. To see the dull lives that people lead, the way they grit their teeth and simply allow things to continue at such a mediocre, dissatisfying pace... It saddens him. It’s as though these people are already dead.

Neglect. He knows he is not designed for being loved. Undeserving of tenderness. He wishes he could cut it all out, to just leave a monster behind that knows nothing but carnage and euphoria. He wishes it didn’t hurt so much to be ignored, when he knows a weapon lies forgotten until needed. He’s so sure that’s what he is, an instrument of destruction; so the feeling of longing, of wanting to be seen or held, feels like something he shouldn’t have. It feels like a mistake. And it makes the sadness he feels just that much worse, thinking that he shouldn’t be allowed to be sad about something like this.

☺: three things that make my muse happy

Bloodshed. Tyrian is a sadist in its purest, most concentrated form. Feeling flesh tear under his blades, the smell of a city on fire, the taste of blood, a symphony of screams, it’s ecstasy. It’s a thirst that drives him, controls him, and he sees no reason to stop it from doing so when succumbing to it feels so good.

Love. As confused of an understanding that he has of it, Tyrian is very driven by love. He serves Salem because he loves Her. He chose his place in life because he loves doing what he does. When Tyrian loves something, he gives every last piece of himself to it. He loves intensively, obsessively; he wants to drown himself in it. Let it consume his life.

Utility. This is what it means to be loved. To be used is to be needed. For the talents he can provide to have value to someone, for him to be considered an asset, is the closest approximation to love he allows himself. It’s what makes sense to him. He only knows how to break things, so the best he can hope for is to be seen as very good at breaking things.

♪: three songs that remind me of my muse

I have a whole playlist for him, but I’ll pick three of my favorites.

Ready to Die- Andrew WK For obvious reasons, but I like the juxtaposition of aggressive metal instruments playing a very upbeat tune about killing people.

2econd-2ight-2eer- Will Wood I only let myself pick one Will Wood song for this and this is my choice. “The devil made me do it, but I also kind of wanted to” is literally his entire character.

Last Caress- Misfits Violent and obscene, and addresses death like a person; calling it sweet and lovely and waiting for its embrace.

★: a wish my muse has

Sometimes, Tyrian wishes he could be more. More than just death, something a little more human. Something deeper, with pieces capable of loving. But he can’t. He can never move past it. He craves it, it’s not just a part of him... it’s all he is. Without it, there would be nothing left. And he loves it too much to want to let it go, to try to fight it when he knows he will inevitably fail and have the dark pull him in again.

Sometimes he wishes he could have something softer. But most of the time, he wishes he could just kill that softness. Carve it out of himself so that there’s no more doubt, no more feeling besides pain, nothing left of him but claws and fangs and barbs and knives.

✄: is my muse creative?

Yes, and in all the worst ways. When it comes to twisting people’s emotions against them, or causing as much widespread panic as possible, or simply imagining all the different ways to torture a person, very few people are creative as Tyrian. He’s very good at adapting, improvising a plan on the fly, and he’s far better at it than plotting up something beforehand. He’s the most creative person you’ll ever meet when it comes to bloody fantasies.

♈: the most daring thing your muse has ever done

He outdoes himself on this front constantly, but a few moments come to mind of him staring death right in the face and grinning.

Salem’s inner circle is the most informed on Her intentions, Her truth, but there are some others less important that She has twisted the arm of, manipulated, or otherwise blackmailed into acting as informants. The Grimm are Her eyes in the countryside, but these informants can be vital in providing information about more populated areas. Tyrian has had to meet with some before; sometimes for leads in his hunt for maidens or huntsmen, but at other times simply to scare them into obedience when Her Grace catches wind of their wavering loyalties.

It was one such time he found himself meeting in a seedy bar in Anima. Nearly all the dealings here were shady, and nobody’s hands were clean enough to bother batting an eye at any sort of questionable behavior, so long as they didn’t cause any property damage. He sat at the opposite end of a table with the informant in question- A human man, late thirties. Unspeakably plain-looking and unassuming. Perfect for gathering intel undetected. Or at least, he would be, if he were to dismount his high horse. Tyrian bit his tongue and refrained from tearing the man apart at his insolence, the sheer nonchalant disrespect the man showed his Goddess. He knew it came from a place of ignorance. If he truly knew what She was, he wouldn’t say such ridiculous things.

However, the man’s general lack of understanding of his situation was beginning to get on Tyrian’s nerves. He wanted compensation for his work. A reward.

“I don’t think you fully grasp your situation here, Cole Blackwell,” He spoke with a sharp tone, using the man’s full name to add weight to it as he leaned across the table slightly, staring him down. “Your reward is your continued existence. You are in a very poor position to ask for a prize. It is either your cooperation... or your life.” Tyrian’s eye’s bore into the spy, the glint of malice and bloodlust evident in them without him having to say a word. The fool continued to blunder.

“From where I’m sitting...” Cole kept his voice steady, although it was clearly an effort on his part. Tyrian noticed his arms shift under the table. “There’s a third option.” With that, he reached his hand out from below to reveal a gun, and pointed it in Tyrian’s direction. The faunus didn’t so much as flinch. It took everything in him not to break into a fit of cackles and draw attention to their little confrontation in their corner of the bar. A few restrained chuckles shook his shoulders despite his best efforts.

Tyrian leaned even further forward, licking his lips and pressing his forehead against the barrel of the gun, his crazed stare never once straying from the little rebel’s eyes.

“Then do it,” he hissed with a wide grin, “I’ll even drop my aura for you.” And sure enough, Tyrian drew a clawed finger across his face rough enough to leave a mark that noticeably did not heal. He pressed his head into the gun again, relishing in the way he man’s hand trembled slightly in a mixture of fear, confusion, and uncertainty. “You know a bullet in my brain won’t stop this.” Tyrian’s voice was low and dangerous as he stared the man in the eyes like he was daring him to blink first. “She knows where you live. Perhaps if your own life isn’t enough to convince you, we should see if you find theirs more valuable. Two girls, isn’t it? Holly and Ivy?” The color in Cole’s face drained at the mention of the names, his steely facade cracking into a picturesque depiction of absolute dread. Tyrian chuckled darkly. “My Fair Lady would be very displeased to lose me, and I wouldn’t be around to convince Her not to take from you whatever She deems fit as..... retribution.” The man’s hand trembled. Tyrian pulled away with a smirk, never breaking eye contact as he licked the barrel of the gun just to rub salt in the wound. The informant’s eyes were so beautiful as they were, filled to the brim with fear and disgust. He lowered the gun in defeat.

“I knew I could trust you to listen to reason, mister Blackwell~” Tyrian spoke cordially and cheerfully as if he hadn’t had a gun to his head mere seconds ago, as if he didn’t just threaten the man’s family.

“Get fucked,” The man spat, his voice dripping with disdain and reluctance. A sweet sound. “You’re sick.”

A high-pitched cackle was unavoidable at the comment, Tyrian no longer caring to hold it back. As he gathered himself again, he replied, “And you’re in over your head. I suppose we’re both beyond saving then.”

He stood up from his seat, leaning close to the shocked, broken man once more to speak lowly in his ear.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, as always, Cole Blackwell. I’ll see you soon~” his excitement was ominous, and he left the poor man alone to marinate in the darkness of his reality as he sauntered away. Sure, he didn’t have to drop his aura to make a point, he didn’t have to cut it so close. Grey’s finger could have slipped at any second, or perhaps he could have grown a spine and pulled the trigger on purpose. Tyrian simply kissed death because he wanted to. For the fun of it. It’s part of what made his job so ceaselessly entertaining, to be so close to death in so many different ways without letting it take him just yet, was a simple delight he relished in often.

♓: my muse’s biggest secret

I answered one on the previous ask, but as a bonus I will give you one that isn’t so much a huge secret as much as it is something that he would never, ever tell anyone. He hates people who grab or tug at his tail without permission, it’s incredibly rude and objectifying and reminds him too much of his time in the circus when he just had to sit and take it. However. He loves having it pulled near the base. He will never admit this, and anyone who grabs at his tail to find out is likely to get stung unless they are on the very short list of people allowed to do so.

#;take a hammer and fix the canon [headcanon]#//this one uhhh took a while lmao #bambino-muses

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kur0mimi · 4 years ago

Text

Lights Out

—A High School AU of AKIRA, where Michiru decides to go home with Jin to avoid getting caught up in the intense rainfall. And their time spent together progressively gets more comfortable and tender. (pt. 1 of 2)

pairing - Michiru (my OC) and Jin (@neoghoulukaku OC)

genre - High School AU, tooth-rotting fluff, slice of life, comedy, smut (in pt. 2)

warnings - cursing, sexual undertones (progressively gets more smutty in the next part of this), and mentioning of eating disorders

a/n - hey! I have finally gotten around to post some of my new one shots that have been cracking up so much space, this one being more ✨spicy✨ anyways, I don’t have much to say but I hope you like this and stick around for part two because wow, it gets interesting 😌

The image of a strangler and a 14th century barbarian was in the vessel of a 21st century materialist who taught math class at the Eighteenth District high school. Hana Hayasaka was unfortunately Michiru’s dreaded cousin who continued her brutal onslaught of arithmetic torture on the students she was teaching. She was a modern day brutalist, walking on water like she was a contemporary dictator who danced to the song of her pupil’s groaning and moaning at the sight of a new equation being written on the board. This woman was no god, so where was Michiru’s? She didn’t have one. But a lover, perhaps?

He sat beside her, his onyx eyes narrowing incredulously at the quadratic equation being written on the board in front of him. Jin Takahashi had beautiful kaleidoscope eyes that were such a dark, mysterious colour as they peered off into the distance and into the hearts of his victims, or better known as the people that irked him on a regular basis.

Michiru was more than happy to sit beside her beloved boyfriend, as they had gone past the phase of stumbling over their words. She no longer needed to rationalize too much when thoughts were running through her mind as she held hands with him. And as far as she could tell, the only thing clutched in his hand was the pencil that was threatening to break with how irritated he was at the sadistic teacher.

‘That pencil is gonna break if he keeps squeezing it like that,’ The girl with the wavy black hair observed as she sipped orange juice from the small juice box she had snatched from the cafeteria not too long ago. She looked at her finished notes and sighed, squeezing the now empty carton between her slender fingers. Michiru knew her current situation was rather lacklustre, but comfortable. She wasn’t the type of person that would roll in mint leaves and cigarette smoke, waltzing out the back door to skip class and out to the moonlit streets of the urban nightmare they were all civilians of. She was a student who wanted to study political science and civics in order to achieve the position of a politician of Neo-Tokyo, and perhaps by then she would be able to fix the wretched neon jungle.

“Junko, my dear, can you tell us what another name for the slope is?” The female ruler’s voice rang throughout Michiru’s ears as the class grew silent, the only sound being the queen bee’s foolish stuttering.

“...Aren’t y-intercept and the slope the exact same thing? They both have a curve, right...?”

From the lonely bust of one of the female students came a muffled scream trapped beneath the marble and polished stone of her fake persona. Oh, Junko must’ve been livid, raging on the inside like her matriarchy as one of the most popular females had fallen. And it kind of did, but at least now there was less of a bullying issue and no more petty drama going around. Hana smirked mockingly as she sat on her desk, tapping the stub of chalk against the wooden surface of it as she eyed the young girl who had humiliated herself by stating the wrong answer.

“You’re wrong, darling,” Hana cooed gently as she stood up, wiping the white chalk dust from her pencil skirt. “Very wrong, in fact. Have you been paying attention? I don’t think bouncing on a boy’s me-“

“Mom, that’s enough. She got it wrong, just let someone else answer,” Ranze spoke up in a reasonable tone, trying to rationalize with her mother’s passive aggressiveness that broke the room in half with the amount of tension it created.

“Ah, of course!” The older woman backtracked as she turned to Nimura, sitting in between Setsuko and Aiko in the middle row of tables. “Hasegawa-san, give us another name for the slope.”

Nimura didn’t bat an eye as he looked up, meeting Hana’s gaze in a nonchalant manner that made some peer’s breaths hitch softly. “Delta y over delta x, Hayasaka-sensei.” He recited in an articulated and eloquent way of speaking, to which the teacher clapped her hands with delight.

“Such a smart boy! Junko-san, write down what he said as well as some other examples we’ll mention shortly.” Hana praised him as she patted him on the head, making the young prodigy cock his head in confusion while looking over at Ranze, who lifted her shoulders up into a shrug. “Michiru, darling, do you want to try?”

“y2 − y1 over x2 − x1 is another way of saying it, Hayasaka-sensei,” Michiru said gently as a faint smile ghosted her lips, a typical mannerism of her’s that made the girl so effortlessly irresistible.

“Correct once more! Highly expected of you two, anyways,” The totalitarian of a teacher turned around wrote down the two examples on the board, and it was there that Michiru could finally look back over at Jin, who seemed to have already been staring at her.

“I guess death doesn’t befit the ‘queen’,” Jin remarked with a quiet, almost stifled snicker as Junko was shaking in her anger, the person who reigned supreme in the school was now slowly descending to her death, which by she would be regarded as un paysan.

Michiru giggled, covering her mouth her hand to not draw attention to herself and Jin. “I don’t believe she deserved that title, anyway.” She responded gently as she tucked a strand of her ebony locks behind her ear.

“She’s building her own coffin, like the trash she fucking is,” The male teenager said bluntly as he sank back into his seat, looking at his paper with his eyelids dropping tiredly. Michiru couldn’t lie about not liking the way he looked when she saw him like this. So relaxed yet somehow still observant with his surroundings, and by looking at him, her various thoughts accumulated to the point where they hard to keep track of.

They were filling up her mouth and pouring out her eyes with her hesitant, soft glances. And they scraped the back of her throat and made her teeth start to rot with the sweetness they were filled with, but she could never make these feelings make sense. She could never make them come out in letters, only in affectionate touches, delicate eye contact, and hugging her pillow in the latest hours of the night.

She wasn’t intoxicated by any means, of course not. This was the feeling that made her dance in the rainy streets late at night to sweet songs about typical mediocre things. The water would pour onto her Prada shoes and frilled socks as she lived her life the she way she wanted to. She wanted to be alive, that was all.

While there was Ranze, the less innocent of the two and was a femme fatale in all her glory. A cigarette between her fingers while she curled up on the wooden deck chair that one time that they were alone, watching over the early city from the balcony of her apartment. Her sunglasses were almost on the tip of her nose. Her bare, boney legs pulled up to her chest. The mattress on the floor was unmade and two empty bottles of alcoholic substances were placed adjacent to it. And then the ravenette would leave every morning, putting on her shoes and buttoning up her uniform. Proceeding to travel the city like it was her own backyard.

Michiru wished she could have the confidence and intensity that her older relative did, perhaps if she did she would’ve been even more unstoppable. Her past was framed by white borders, overexposed metaphors tacked to a bulletin board. Hiding beauty behind cork, and behind her concentration for schoolwork was candidness and generosity—perhaps an accidental masterpiece? Many told the joyful girl that she looked too happy, but little did they know she was like that because her future was developing. And if she remained optimistic, would there be a reward waiting for her at the end?

The baleful lightning struck again from the outside as the rain pattered down aggressively, only for the bell to ring soon after. It was there last period for the day, physical education. Michiru stood up and packed her bags, placing her items in her leather satchel that had been adorned with pins of favourite shows and characters. She watched Jin stand up and place his items in his backpack, before snapping his gaze to the smaller girl, who had been watching him for a while at that point.

He smirked, his teeth shining through the small opened space of his mouth. “What are you looking at?” That rogue and badass visage made Michiru’s face flush red as she squeezed the empty juice box in her hands. “You kept looking at me for the entire duration of class. Do you need anything?”

Within plein-air, Michiru’s sensitive flesh felt foolishly exposed to drastic warmth as she walked beside him, exiting the classroom with a nod to the teacher. ‘Love proliferates like nettle down the throat,’ she thought as she moved closer to him, the side of her arm touching his with a brisk movement.

“Well... It’s been raining aggressively all day and I’m hesitant to go home alone,” Ah, they were truly pointless excuses. Jin could read through them so expertly and clearly, so what was the point of reciting pathetic inquiries? Was this all just to make her look less desperate in front of the others? Michiru didn’t even know what she wanted, but the seemingly innocent thought of spending more time with Jin was simply too good to be true. “I’ll just be honest with you, I simply wanted to know if I could come home with you and wait out the storm.”

She watched Jin’s eyes widen a bit, his eyebrows knitted together with astonishment as he looked into her large brown ones. He knew underneath those precious doe-like eyes were not perverse hidden secrets preserved within her intelligent mind. He would lament to believing she wanted such obscene things from him, morbidly, passionately, and pathetically.

“You want to come to my apartment?” Jin reiterated in disbelief as he ran a calloused hand through his spiky black hair. Any sort of unwarranted stirrings from either of the parties would create an imminent onslaught of awkwardness and stiffness for the both of them, an absolutely horrendous possibility neither of them wanted to look into. “You can, but it’s going to rain all night. Won’t your parents or Mamoru be worried if they didn’t see you come home before your curfew?”

Michiru pouted, looking down at the floor. Jin’s glare had softened when the smaller girl was around him, making his scowl (widely perceived as iniquitous) dissipate into a tranquil expression of well-hidden warmth and compassion for the girl he considered to be so important to him. “It’s Friday... So I could always say that I’m at Ranze’s, perhaps she would understand and play along...”

Jin didn’t know what Colonel Shikishima and Atsuko thought of him. Did they believe he was a ruthless, merciless depiction of a delinquent with an unquenchable thirst for sex and wanton attraction for their daughter? Perhaps a Beelzebub slathered against the odious death stare he had given his enemies.

That didn’t matter now, though. The older boy stopped in his tracks, reaching to cup her porcelain cheek—a fleeting yet fulfilling gesture that Michiru never grew tired of when he displayed that beautiful rarity of tenderness. His thumb lightly grazed over her skin gently as he eyed her carefully, his voice dipping down into a lower volume reserved for solely Michiru and Michiru only. “Ranze would be livid if she heard about you coming to my place. I don’t know how we could get away with it, she would do anything to catch us in a compromising position, Mimi.”

Michiru’s face flushed a deep vermillion as Jin backed off, a grin tugging at his lips as the beautiful girl stood like a deer in headlights after the sudden action. Her eyes of luminous glass glimmering with an innocence that was far too real. She exhaled a bated breath, her heart beating in a shallow and slow manner.

Bruised with verbatim, Michiru nodded with a sheepish smile. “I’m sure she isn’t always going to gate-keep what we’re going to do. I’ll ask her in the locker room and see how things pan out.”

Jin took a deep breath, slinging his bag over his shoulder while the other hand clasped his girlfriend’s hand. “I’ll leave the talking to you, then. And if anything goes wrong, I’ll talk to her. There’s no way she can get through me.” He scoffed as he opened the double doors to the gymnasium, followed by Shosaku cocking his eyebrow at the couple incredulously, appearing to have been listening in on on the couple haphazardly.

“Don’t fucking tell me he’s gonna bring you home now...” The promiscuous teenager with the bleached strand of hair remarked wryly, a foolish smile painted on his face that quickly dissipated when Jin glared at him viciously. “Heh... Jin, buddy, don’t look at me like that.”

The teenager rolled his eyes, ushering Michiru to go on ahead of them. “Babe, you go on ahead and get changed. Class is gonna start soon, anyways.”

“Okay, then!” She replied quickly and eagerly before whipping her head back around to look at Shosaku. “Shosaku-san... What do you mean by that?”

Shosaku lowered his voice to a mere whisper as he huddled closer to Michiru. “Well, Jin has had a record of being a playboy—“

“I said get going! Class fucking starts soon, so get a fucking move on, Sho!!” Jin’s voice boomed from behind them, making the two scarper within the blink of an eye.

2:15 pm

In the girl’s locker room...

Michiru’s heart yearned for what it had been robbed of for so long, a fulfilling life to live. Her soul yearned for the feeling of the crucifix the extremists had nailed into her mind and soul years ago to be pulled off of her. The blood had dried by the present day, congealed itself rotten for good. Ah, yes, the wound had finally crusted over. She was ready to commit herself to more important things than religion—schoolwork, her political aspirations, and her social life.

Inklings of her fellow female peers had started to re-emerge, traces of their idle conversation drifting into her ears, radiating a topic Michiru had been so uneducated in—oddly enough, she was smart and had a detailed analysis on everything, but this was different in many ways.

“Kira, is that a hickey? Offer us an explanation, please!” Mariko probed at her friend as she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her own revealing plethora of obscene marks that made Michiru nearly turn her head around to gawk at the sight—but she kept her distance, nonetheless.

“Yeah~ Ryuji and I went out at last night and he took me home. Then the rest is just history, I don’t even remember what we did!” Kira replied in her typically air-headed fashion, shrugging as she slipped her t-shirt over her head. “Sex with him is so good, anyways. I was seeing stars because of how hard he went.”

“Aww, does that mean I get to see him next? I haven’t had a good session since a couple months ago with Yusuke,” Makoto whined as she tied her basketball shoes, making the other girls erupt with their hideous cacophony of chortles.

Have these girls ever dreamed of having sex in a finer light? Had they ever dreamt of anything remotely respectable in the slightest? Definitely not. This was the divide between Michiru and her friends and Junko with her posse of idiots. Their reckless souls were so carelessly merged with what they were doing after hours, almost like they were yearning for even more attention...

“Mimi, you keep blanking out. Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?” Suddenly snapped the motherly voice of her older second cousin, Ranze, who placed a warm hand on the shoulder of the smaller girl in a reassuring light. Oh, this was just like home as well, a twisted home where the soul only revisits to feel that sweet burning sensation. To set itself aflame, to ignite.

“Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for asking...” Michiru murmured gently before slipping her shirt over her head, before combing her digits through her wavy black locks of hair. “By the way... Can I ask a favour of you, Ranze?”

“Hmm? Yeah, shoot.”

“Can you cover for me in front of my parents and brother? I’m going to Jin’s house for the night, that’s all—“

Ranze threw her gaze back to Michiru with great ferocity, looking at her with immense suspicion and thinly-veiled worry. “I’m imagining things, right? Have I gone entirely mad?” The older ravenette was speechless as she sat down onto the bench, pulling her hair back into a ponytail while the honour student shrugged carelessly.

“Can you do it? I promise, I’ll get you whatever you want afterwards. And you know Jin, he’s not going to hurt me in any way, shape, or form,” Michiru pleaded as she folded her hands together for extra effect, the precious twinkling in her eyes making Ranze grunt. “Don’t give me that. I’m not going to be the youngest forever... So please, just let me go with him!”

The femme fatale sighed, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I know I can’t play god and tell you both what to do... But goddamn, I’m really unsure of this, Mimi. Can you at least promise that you’ll call me every other hour to check in?”

“Ranze, you know I can’t keep track of that—“

“Do you want to go?”

“Okay, fine...! I’ll do what you want, just please don’t say anything to my mother and father. Especially Mamoru too,” Michiru wrapped her thin arms around the older girl, enveloping her in a sugary sweet embrace that made Ranze’s heart melt.

“I won’t. Your secret is safe with me, Mimi,” Ranze rubbed her relative’s head affectionately before rising to her feet and stretching. “Just please assure me I won’t have to swing by and bring you a spare change of clothes.”

2:46 pm

She looked in every direction and corner to spot Jin in that noisy gymnasium. She had spent the first twenty minutes of her exercise period skipping rope on her own. Her legs were already sore, a phantom of fatigue biting her limbs and beating heart as she bent over to catch her breath from the cardio. Although Michiru thrilled the anticipation of seeing Jin doing his own thing, the lovely sentiment of catching him lifting weights fuelled a fire inside of her. It was a thrill she couldn’t understand in any way. It was so strange as the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t leave, not even one bit.

She felt around for her water bottle before picking it up and taking a generous swig of water, then stood up and to walk to the weightlifting station where Jin resided—lifting what appeared to be a heavy set of weights, at least to Michiru it was. The curious girl sat down in from of him by the mirror, gnawing at the inside of her cheek as her clouded eyes watched him with such interest. Perhaps she was magnetized to him- that surely could’ve been the case.

But it was the loveliest just being able to pause her own exercises to check on her boyfriend, who’s eyes travelled down to the slender form of the beautiful girl who sat in front of him.

“You’ve come to...” Jin inhaled, curling the weights to his chest as his eyes remained steady on the person in front of him. “...check on me? How’d your workout go?”

“It went well. Skipping rope is fun but it gets repetitive after 20 consecutive minutes,” She replied cheerfully, her pupils wandering to the clique of degenerates that collected near the benches. “But better than not exercising at all, I suppose.”

The respect for those girls and boys had forsaken itself, but Michiru even wondered if she ever had it to begin with. How she even lose something she never had to begin with?

Even so, Michiru revered the sense of comfort that eased within her when she was around the overtly honest boy. It created a sense of comfort that made him feel like home. And if that were the case, would she feel homesick for him?

She watched the tendons and muscles in his arms flex each time he lifted the weights a final time before putting it back on the bar. Jin situated himself by the younger girl with the bright brown eyes, hissing slightly at the soreness in his muscles. What she had to face was a life to live despite her frail form. She only wanted him, he was her personal inferno in a sense.

Wait, what? Something like that sounded so strange to her, as she had never felt such an intensity of emotions when she was around Jin. It was strange... too strange if she were to put her finger on it. But what was she to do?

She tenderly wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her face into his nape as he chuckled quietly. She prayed for more tenderness, the tenderness that would rip her away from the cruelties of the world and from the melancholia. Tenderness, her ticket to euphoria.

“Ranze said she could cover for us,” Michiru muttered against the fabric of his shirt, to which Jin turned his head to look back at his significant other with disbelief in his eyes. “On one condition: she wants me to call her to check in at every other hour. But other than that, it’s all good.”

“I see...” Jin heaved out as he wrapped an arm around Michiru, situating his hand comfortably on her hip. This was her love language, the feeling of his firm yet tender touch across her skin made her shudder subconsciously, to which Jin tilted his head. “Are you cold?”

“No... Not at all, actually,” She was drowsy at the thought of him. Angels above, gods above had nothing on him. It was just strange how hypersensitive she was to all of the attention.

“Mhm... Right,” Jin regarded her words with a small nod before looking off into the distance, his eyes foggy with tiredness. “I’m surprised it didn’t take that much convincing. The two of us are frenemies, but it’s to the point where I can’t do any shit alone with you because she’s so suspicious.”

“I’ll be honest with you, I’m starting to be irritated with it,” Michiru confessed, pressing her cheek up against his damp shirt. “But thankfully she’s starting to back off more recently, it’s just that I would really like it if she didn’t treat me like a child constantly...”

Jin looked away and toward the ticking clock on the wall in front of them. “She told me she’s at least happy that you’re content with me and that I’m content with you.. She knows I’ll take good care of you so she shouldn’t be too worried,” He muttered as he cracked his knuckles. “As for her treating you like a kid... I could why see you would be fed-up with it, but you’re younger than her and she sees you like a little sister. She just wants you to be out of harm’s way.”

A thunder encompassed the sky in that moment, the booming crackle of it making Michiru nearly jump out of shock to which Jin rubbed the small of her back in order to stabilize her. The dimmed lights above the students flickered unnaturally, some of them almost immediately giving out. The storm was going to drown them in its fiery onslaught, and it was only fifteen minutes before they could get out of that dumpster fire of a school.

“Don’t tell me I have to drive home in this weather!” Kaisuke complained as he fell back onto the gymnastics mats, to which Setsuko shrugged nonchalantly beside him.

“We can carpool, then,” The docile student offered, making the others look at her with anticipation. “I’m being picked up by Suzuya, so perhaps we can stop and drive you all home as well.”

Jin sighed as he looked over to the girl hugging his side, a soft figure with wavy hair like water from the flowing waves of the sea. His eyes were alight with hidden affection, as on the outside he had thick skin and wouldn’t show sweetness towards anyone except for her. Incandescence was rising between the rogue biker and the demure young lady as she enveloped him in her gentle warmth. “I’ll finish my final set and we can get going. How does that sound, babe?”

“Sure, that works,” She whispered, the volume of her voice not disguising how excited she was to spend more time with him. There was no divine plan she was following, perhaps she wanted to grow closer to him. Michiru didn’t have any divine figure that she was going to trust, she was only going to let things happen as the afternoon went by.

3:35 pm

At Jin’s apartment...

It was always a reoccurring thought to Michiru when it came to wondering what sort of environment Jin lived in. But as she stepped into the dormitory, she felt as though she had gotten around to experiencing some sort of paradise—not luxurious by any means, but still comfortable and safe, with him.

The dull, white tones of his room had been haunting her mind as she looked around, her wide eyes fixated on the various band posters, workout equipment, and other paraphernalia that decorated the living space. The way he kept his apartment was reflective of his personality and to Michiru it seemed to be everlastingly beautiful.

She removed her Mary Janes and placed them beside Jin’s sneakers, walking around the room aimlessly as she admired the various articles of decoration that made the room so unique. Whilst Jin placed his backpack on the kitchen counter, turning to flick the lights on but to no avail as the power had gone out.

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath as he rummaged through the cabinets to look for a flashlight or some sort of candle to illuminate just a sliver of the dark room. Michiru looked out the window, the divinely dark sky, the indigo flashes of lightning ripping at the sky, and the lush atmosphere she had been placed in. To her it was like peace personified, there was pure safety and security surrounding her briefly. And for a moment, she’d hadn’t realized the power had been blown out. “I’ll get some sort of flashlight or candle so we can actually see what we’re doing. You have a change of clothes for yourself, right?”

“Yes, I do. I have some for after gym class to go home in,” She responded as she took out the aforementioned article of clothing before looking around for a private place to change. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down there and to the right,” He replied as he pulled two candles from the cabinets under the sink.

Michiru nodded in acknowledgment, silently thanking him for his help as she quickly moved to the room, opening the door and shutting behind her, locking it. Carefully, she undid the buttons on her shirt and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall onto the tiled floor and pooling at her ankles.

Her ebony curls were damp and not as neat as they were when they were dried. And her lips, cheeks, and the tips of her ears were stained a fruit punch pink as she looked at herself in the mirror briefly. Her body curved and sloped like a mountain, gripping the slung juts of her waist as she looked down.

It didn’t seem that long ago when she wasn’t allowing herself to eat, as it only made up months and years of slow, albeit steady recovery. With the occasional relapse during her darker periods of loneliness. Michiru was still starting to grow to love herself just a little bit more, even if it was slow and there were rough patches, she had realized a fraction of what she couldn’t see while her eyes were filtered that pessimistic film. With the help of her close friends and family, she had time to recovery—even if she still suffered meagre remnants of it.

‘Ranze wouldn’t want to see me being insecure now. She just wants me to be happy,’ Michiru thought as she chuckled quietly when she slipped the white dress over her head. She gathered up her clothes and exited the washroom, putting the soggy uniform in her bag before looking over at Jin, who had already gotten changed into a black tank top and a grey sweatpants and was folding his gakuran. In that moment, he looked up at her and she could see his eyes widen a bit.

She was wearing a sleeveless white dress that reached just a little bit above her knees and had frilly accents on it. Perfectly dainty compared to the other themes of the room as the delinquent’s face flushed a deep crimson, clearing his throat as he looked away, a typical mannerism of his.

“Michiru...” He began, scratching the back of his neck as he sat on a chair adjacent to his bed that had one of his leather jackets thrown onto it. “You look really good...”

She sat down on the floor beside his bed, throwing her head back and smiling infectiously. “Thank you, Jin.. I appreciate it.”

Jin nodded silently, opening his mouth to add to what he had just spoken. “You don’t need to sit on the ground, you can sit on my bed if you’d like.” He offered as she looked at him, lips fresh and dewy with the remnants of her lip balm that she had purchased from the local drugstore. She gladly pulled herself onto the bed and sat down, breathing in the cold air slowly.

Her cheekbones were flushed pink as she looked up at the ceiling, as the feeling of the bed dipping under Jin’s weight when he laid down beside her. Michiru hummed in response as she threw her arms around him, running her slim fingers through his hair as he started to relax.

“I didn’t know you had a dartboard,” Michiru murmured sweetly as Jin wrapped his arms around her waist, his grip secure and safe. She dragged her pink nails across the skin of his back lightly as the brutally honest teen chuckled.

“Yeah, I do. I use it to vent out my anger sometimes,” He said as his dark eyes softened when he looked into her’s, a very faint smile tugging at his lips. “Why bring it up?”

“I was just curious. But now that I see how good your aim is, I’d really like to go up against you.”

“You really want to?” Jin’s smirk grew impossibly wider at the prospect of playing an innocent game of darts with his precious girlfriend.

“Of course! I do archery so I think you have some stiff competition here, Jin.” He could throw his head back and laugh, the streak of competitiveness in her making him amused.

‘She’s too fucking gentle for this world,’ He thought as he pulled away from her, going to the wall to pull the array of darts from the board for them to play.

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