#which is so dry and terrible for like showcasing the series

[figueroths]

now why did it take netflix literal months after canceling bastard son to give it a proper teaser when u scroll over the title like babes y’all could’ve done that and maybe promoted the show well before it released

[littlestarxmilkyway]

I wanted to read some more opinions and just see what the EN fandom consensus on Emerald Beyond is looking like, and I don't know what to think.

Someone had a good personal review of sorts, and they pretty much voiced my thoughts and really nailed down some of what was bugging me, but I couldn't quite figure out. And someone else who felt similarly disappointed in EB likened it to "baby's first SaGa." And I don't remember if I said it here before, but I really feel that way about this game, but they didn't actually accomplish that. It feels like they wanted this game to be for newbies when it comes to the battle system, but everything else about the game is too weak to sell it to newbies, and the site reviews I see always say it's great for series vets but a hard sell for newbies, and I agree to an extent but also find that terrible. If this was supposed to highlight the series' highs, it failed, but it certainly showcases the lows.

The initial commenter mentioned the graphics and budget, and I'm actually very pressed about the art direction for this game. I don't even think the graphics are atrocious, but the character models are so boring and drab, they tell me nothing of the world and do nothing interesting. A handful of the party/playable characters are interesting and that's it. How did they reuse assets from SSG and still not come out as impressive? Even compared to older games, at least there was better diversity in designs of NPCs, but they're so boring here.

And I can't stop comparing it to older games in terms of how boring and unengaging the storylines are to me. That's combined with the world being so boring because of the choices being so empty most of the time, and I'm glad others felt that way too. They tried to hype it up as "free choice" and "open world," but it's actually so frustratingly linear. And I hate that the choices rarely make a difference, sometimes even within one playthrough. Often, it's just a choice of "do you battle right now or not," and that's silly. And it bugs me that people accept that, or are just being ignorant about what lackluster treatment they're being given.

Emerald Beyond really is fun at times. I love Diva, Formina, Bonnie and Siugnas. But the game as a whole is just so dry. I don't get how they back-tracked so hard from SSG? Or even Frontier, which is decades older and on lesser tech. I really think there were other ways to go, and it's sad that devs can't find a better middle-ground.

Like, would we really have lost much if we count down the amount of worlds, made them more fleshed out individually in terms of graphics/presentation and given more interaction? We couldn't have Frontier with fewer worlds and slightly upgraded models? I really do wonder what the budget for the game looked like, but also the team and what resources they were given. Is the game like this because of lack of planning, or is it that they really weren't given a budget to work with? It's sad because either way, it has hurt the sales and probably, has hurt the future of the series. I like EB well enough, but I don't love it, and I think I'd rather waited for a better game than take EB as it is.

[ugly-drizella]

Drizella Tremaine and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Week: A Story in Headlines, Tweets, and Other Online Things

TW: Allusions to anti-Magick/misogynistic behavior and bad workplace environments, the celebrity gossip train going off-rails, someone getting online canceled (ouch), implications of infidelity

US WEEKLY: OCT. 13 2023

Izzy Maine loses it Weigh in: should we #CancelIzzy??

A video of comedian Izzy Maine, 33, pouring scalding hot coffee on TikTok personality Esme Bennet (@its_esmayyyyyy), 20, has gone viral — with the hashtag #CancelIzzy trending as well.

The video, which seems to take place at a brunch gathering held at Bennet’s house in Los Angeles, showcases the comedian angrily storming up to Bennet and purposefully dumping a carton of coffee onto the influencer and nearby guests, including Maine’s husband of three years, comedian Grant Dayton, 35. 

Dayton and Maine are both alumni of Saturday Night Live, who left the sketch comedy show to pursue their own projects. Before the Writer’s Guild of America and Screen Actors Guild strikes, the pair were working on a new comedy series for Netflix, with Maine showrunning and Dayton executive-producing and starring. 

Many of Bennet’s fans are rallying on social media, calling for Netflix to cancel Maine’s show.  

—

THE SOCIAL MEDIA SITE FORMERLY KNOWN AS TWITTER: OCT. 13 2023

esmayfan11: izzy maine is an ugly anti-magick c*nt who just hates beautiful half-fairies #CancelIzzy

🍃greengirlyy🍃: wait, izzy maine is anti-magick???? who is she??

esmayfan11: yeah lol shes this bitchy comedian and called esme a lot of fairy-slurs and one of my moots found this old video where she’s pulling her ears up to make them pointy ://///

🍃greengirlyy🍃: omg i never knew… and im a fairy … time to #CancelIzzy

—

THE CUT: OCT. 16 2023

Izzy Maine’s catastrophic fall from graceIn the aftermath of the comedian’s explosive outburst, more women are coming forward with stories of Maine’s volatile behavior 

Excerpt: 

“One time during a writer’s meeting, she got so mad that she grabbed a tray of bagels and flung it onto the table,” says a writer’s assistant, who prefers to remain anonymous. “Gobs of cream cheese got everywhere. I had to leave the room crying, I was so scared. The smell of lox wouldn’t leave my hair for days.”

When asked about the bagel incident, a representative of Maine’s provided this statement: 

“It’s true that Izzy often gets passionate in the writer’s room, because she wants the best from her team. This claim however completely misconstrues what happened, which was simply a clumsy dining accident that occurred when Izzy was vehemently gesturing.”

The representative went on to say that Maine paid for the entire team’s laundry and dry-cleaning. 

—

THE COMMENTS OF AN INSTAGRAM POST OF SAID ARTICLE: OCT. 16 2023

🍃greengirlyy🍃: ugh and this article never even mentions how anti-magick she is!!!!!!! #CancelIzzy

carson_tyler: Izzy Maine is anti-Magick? Since when??

🍃greengirlyy🍃: OMG Uncle tyler did u not hear about the esme bennet stuff??? Ill DM u a google doc

eggsandjake: I bet she scared all the magicks who ever worked with her into silence. #CancelIzzy

—

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER: OCT. 17 2023

Multiple Netflix projects scrapped; streamer cites creative differences 

Excerpt: 

Netflix officially pulled the plug on at least 12 different shows and movies in development, citing new directions and creative differences between the talent involved. This coincides with the end of the 148-day Writers Guild of America strike, and the ongoing Screen Actors Guild strike.

The canceled projects run a wide gamut from Love is Blind: Avalor, the long-rumored biopic of Ingary’s Madame Sulliman, and comedian Izzy Maine’s highly anticipated sitcom. Considering the other changes at Netflix, specifically the price plan and introduction of an ad-tier, it seems like the streamer is pivoting to a new direction. 

—

FACEBOOK COMMENTS: OCT. 17 2023

Tyler Carson: Wow. Good riddance to Izzy Maine! My niece tells me that she’s really anti-Magick… knowing her, this show was probably problematic! Used to love her stuff but now… #CancelIzzy

Grace Frank: DONT.. LISTEN.. TO the WOKE moB… I never LIKED THIS WOMAN.. But she is BEING SILENCED by the LIBS 

—

JEZEBEL: OCT. 18 2023

Netflix was right to dump Izzy Maine Coffee and bagels aside… 

Excerpt: 

TikTok influencer coffee spill and bagel tray flinging aside, Izzy Maine was just never funny and it’s time we admit that. 

I don’t mean to be the type of person who brags about not liking something cool, but I never got Izzy Maine’s whole schtick. Didn’t we leave behind that whole “not like other girls, rah-rah I like pizza and beer and hate motherhood” deal behind in 2013? None of her standup clips have ever made me laugh. 

I’m not alone. Earlier this year, an audio clip from one of Maine’s standups went viral — but for reasons I’m sure Izzy Maine would hate. It’s a clip from one of her standups, where she brags about being the type of woman who doesn’t wear makeup. It became a meme, with plenty of empowered young women, proudly showing off their makeup routines and outright mocking Maine’s words. 

—

THE SOCIAL MEDIA SITE FORMERLY KNOWN AS TWITTER: OCT. 18 2023

esmayfan11: omg… i kno what we should do in support of esme!! we should all make tiktoks with that old izzy maine audio where she’s talking about how fake makeup is and show how BEAUTIFUL esme is with her magic and perfect makeup #CancelIzzy

—

PEOPLE MAGAZINE: OCT 19. 2023

Inside Izzy Maine and Grant Dayton’s Big Split!Sources say that Maine’s volatile behavior had the couple on rocks for months

Excerpt:

Comedy fans have been following #Mainton since their SNL days, especially the infamous Butternut Squash skit where the two shared some electric flirty banter that definitely bled from their IRL relationship. But it looks like there’s trouble in comedy paradise, considering Dayton was not only spotted moving out from the couple’s Brooklyn apartment but also unfollowed Maine on Instagram. Yeoch!

“Grant’s been very upset with Izzy’s behavior, even before the whole coffee incident,” says a source close to the couple. “He’s felt like she steamrolls over him in all their creative endeavors and he feels scared to voice his concerns about how she treats the people they work with.”

But a source close to Maine states otherwise.

“Grant’s always been insecure about Izzy’s success,” says the anonymous person. “She’s way more popular than him on social media, and I think that’s definitely undermined a lot of their collaboration.” 

Regardless of the couple’s relationship, clearly Maine’s outburst towards TikTok personality Esme Bennet (@its_esmayyyyy), the social media backlash against her, and the subsequent cancellation of the couple’s upcoming Netflix show did NOT help any resentment building between them. 

But there is a silver lining — for Dayton at least. Judging by how frequently he’s appeared in Bennet’s IG stories, it seems like they’ve gotten a lot closer since Maine’s violent outburst. Could a romance be brewing between them?

--

TW: Hangover

It was 1 pm, and Drizella Tremaine was still in bed. 

She had at least 12 missed calls and a splitting headache. The curtains of her Williamsburg apartment were drawn tightly shut, but even so, a crack of light splintered through, shining right on Drizella’s eye. She winced, but used that opportunity to stretch out, her fingers clawing at her phone. 

She fumbled, finally managing to unplug it, and scrolled through her unread text messages. Most were her agent. A few from some friends, who probably were figuring out if associating with her was going to damage their own blossoming careers. A couple from her mother. There was one from her sister, but Drizella didn’t even bother to read anything beyond Annie’s name. 

There wasn’t a single message from Grant. 

At this point, Drizella didn’t know what she expected. It wasn’t like an apology from her sleazeball of a  husband about how he should not have fucked a buxom TikToker 15 years younger than him would make things better. Even if Drizella found it in her cold, bitter heart (his words, not hers) to forgive him, there were still the facts that 1) he had fucked a buxom TikToker 15 years younger than him, 2) she had spilled coffee all over that buxom TikToker, even if she had been aiming for Grant (her words, not his), and 3), because of fact 2, the entire internet was convinced she was some raging anti-Magick misogynist because said buxom TikToker just happened to be half-fairy. 

If Drizella thought about it too much, she got angry. Very angry. And that only fed into all the rumors about her, which made her even angrier, and then she ended up doing stupid things. Like throwing Grant’s camera off the balcony and going out to the local dive bar and dancing on the tables and slamming back wayyy too many Fireball shots for someone over the age of 22, and then booking a one-way ticket to her dinky little hometown. 

Wait — had she done that?

The memories of last night were coming back — in some sort of grainy montage set to a Katy Perry song. 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

She looked at her email, and sure enough, there was a receipt for an airplane ticket to London, then a train ticket to Swynlake. There was also an email sent to her agent, one that was surprisingly coherent for an email written at approximately 3:34 am that she also could not remember sending. 

Her phone buzzed, her agent’s name flashing on the screen. Violently. Drizella yelped, nearly dropping it, but managed to slide the accept call bar and press the phone to her ear and a hand to her forehead. 

“Listen, Hannah —”

“Izzy, this is a fantastic idea.”

A beat.

“Wait, what?”

“The Swynlake thing? It’s genius.” If the late night timing of the message disturbed Hannah at all, she did not let it on. Then again, it was certainly not the first ill-timed email that Drizella had fired off to Hannah (she worked better past midnight, she always said).

“It is?”

Hannah ignored the doubt in Drizella’s voice.

“And your sister’s there too, right? Two birds, one stone. You go to this Magick-Friendly town — y'know, the place you grew up. The place that formed you. You kiss some cheeks with some fairies or vampires or whatever. You get involved with local politics, sign a few petitions, flick off a local lord…”

“I don’t think we have a local lord.”

“Duke? Earl? I don’t know, girl. Do something to show that you’re relatable and not afraid to stick it to the man. And also become aunt of the year to your sister’s little tykes.”

Drizella’s head was still pounding. The last thing she wanted to do right now was have Annie’s spawn squirm all over her. And probably puke on her shoes. How old were they again? Jaxson was… seven? And Harlynne was… four? And wait — there was another one now. What was his name again? Lenny?

“Izzy, this could solve all your problems.” 

Drizella rubbed her forehead again. She closed her eyes. She needed coffee and aspirin, but those would be temporary fixes. She needed to put Grant’s stupid BMW in one of those junkyard smasher things, but that also wouldn’t really fix any of her problems. But… maybe Swynlake would. 

She couldn’t get over the fucking irony of it all.

“I know,” she said, slipping into confidence. “I’m bloody brilliant, aren’t I? I’ll start coming up with a game plan the moment I get some coffee.” 

“Excellent — we’re gonna get you out of this Izzy.”

“I know it.” 

[theji]

SDOC4 Finale Commentary

Now that SDOC is over, Saturday nights are gonna feel a little empty for a while. We won't get to see cutie and cool DD regularly but that's fine. There are still so many other things to do while we await their new dramas.

I was inspired to start this SDOC commentary series after the first ep but along the way, I missed 2 or 3 posts cos I got lazy, uninspired or just too engrossed to take notes while watching. I'm a terrible blogger hahaha...but that's alright. Cos fandom should be fun and not become a chore. Blogging is not homework. But I told myself I have to finish what I started, so here goes...

I've said it before and I will say it again. The show is too damn long, even for me who was sitting at home in relative comfort, with access to drinks, the toilet, snacks etc. Can't imagine what it was like for the captains, their crew, the dancers, the audience, the staff etc. I remember during one of the hotpot eps, the captains gave feedback and requested for the finale to be shorter. Also, snacks and drinks for the crowd. I wonder if it was fulfilled.

At one point while watching, it suddenly dawned on me that I'm experiencing the finale in real time (sort of), at the same time as Bobo. Then I got a bit gleeful at the thought, cos it's like a shared experience of sort, you know?

Throughout the season, I've been wishing that they'll include a little DD cam permanently onscreen, cos we all watch SDOC for WYB's reactions, right? But I actually didn't think of opening 2 windows (main show and WYB cam) while watching the finale and I was watching it on my laptop. I occasionally toggled to the DD cam when I got bored. By the time I realised I could do that, the show was more than halfway over. I felt so dumb. =(

Captains' Opening Dance

No surprises there, my favourite is Team Boom's showcase and it's not because I'm biased. DD has always been a fan of the old school funky style. Zin-san said that DD specifically requested to do it in the HB style. It must be a dream come true for him to be able to collaborate with H&B on a choreographed dance. I like the whole energy and how everyone is so synchronised. And DD just looked like he enjoyed every moment of it.

HG's Singing in the Rain was a nice touch and deviation from what he has done previously but I felt it was a tad lengthy for me. And a bit flat. I'm glad Henry managed to form his musical band and incorporate his violin music with his showcase. I'm surprised I even managed to recognise that Lay used his own song, considering that I don't even follow his music. It's great he tried to showcase different dance types in it but it didn't invoke any particular feelings in me.

This part here reminded me of DD's freestyle segment during his Wu Gan performance this year. I love it! It's my favourite moment of this whole segment. He looked so free, like he's just immersed in the moment.

Dancers' Showcase

My personal top 3:

1) H&B

I loved everything about this and I like that they stuck to their roots but also tried to infuse new elements to their showcase. The whole routine is full but not overly so, and there's sufficient variation to the moves and choreography so it's not dry. No fancy props or costumes or big moves, just pure old school dance. My fav is the part when the spotlight cast those giant shadows on the screen behind. Simple but impactful visually. And the free-fall drop move. I love it! And when you see DD's reaction at the end, you know we have a winner here.

2) Ye Yin

I felt like I was watching a show, a musical or something, and not a dance. Very rich elements, in the choice of props, visual elements, sounds used etc. I did think it was a little similar to his showcase during the SDOC party but maybe that was the point, cos I recall DD making a comment about that being a finale-worthy piece. Maybe it was like a call-back.

3) Chun Lin

Last year's Tonight was spectacular and it somewhat gave birth to DD's VOTF, which is my all-time fav. I'll never be over it! I know some people think Chun Lin's Cheating on You is similar to Tonight and not as innovative but it works for me. I like this kind of dance and I think it's quite a distinctive style of his. Now, if only I can see DD doing something like this again.

Under normal circumstances, I would have liked Mr Three's performance. The narrative is good and I like how the little dancer and him worked together. His mum is likeable and I thought it was smart of him to use the family card in the final showcase. Ultimately, his earlier controversy somehow marred his image in my eyes so I cannot bring myself to like him more.

Ibuki's showcase was powerful, full of energy and she really showed everyone who's the Queen of SDOC. But I thought it was a bit much, too full, in that the power and energy levels of the whole performance shot up to max right from the beginning and was then stuck at that energy level the whole time. I would have appreciated a little more build up, some transition.

Bouboo's Wakanda-inspired piece was enjoyable. I like the setup and their outfits looked great, but I thought there was a tad too much acting compared to dancing, although whenever he actually danced, it was top notch as usual.

Acky-san didn't do much dancing actually but I got the sense that it was by design. Eg. Him wearing the same outfit as everyone else so he won't stand out, and him spending a fair bit of time just squatting at the back behind the other dancers, while they danced, and the last part where he passed his hat to the boy to symbolise succession. I felt that his intention of this showcase was to let the younger generation of dancers have more of the limelight, to let them showcase themselves. But of course when he did dance, he stole the show. The guy has showmanship.

GOGO Brothers were great, as usual. I mean, there's really nothing to nit-pick about their technique but that's also the thing. The showcase was nice to look at but it didn't do much for me. Not very memorable nor were there particular wow moments. Tony Gogo's appearance was also less of a surprise here since he already appeared during the SDOC party episode.

Yang Kai's performance was not bad but like Bouboo, I thought there was a little too much acting and not enough dancing. I always felt that for a B Boy, he is really versatile. I did get a surprise when he unveiled his shaved head in the end.

I don't think Rochka's performance was deserving of the low score. I liked that he showcased his vocals in the beginning. Some parts were a bit messy and I didn't quite get the theme but I was surprised he scored under 100.

I generally like George but I don't think his performance deserved to be in the Top 8. It was a bit too disjointed for me, like a mish-mash of Chinese cultural elements, from the drunken fist, Wong Fei Hong music, kungfu moves, to the lion dance at the end. There's no central story or linkage between each segment. Felt like something more suited for a CNY TV show. I guess the oriental theme struck a chord with the judges.

I generally agree with the results of the final 8, although I think Poppin C should have made it instead of George. While it wasn't like wow, I thought it was a more coherent performance, plus the visual elements were superior. And Poppin C was able to showcase his techniques more.

Huang Xiao's piece gave me some Broadway, cabaret vibes. It's a nice performance but I don't think the SDOC stage was right for it.

I don't really remember much of Eleven. His piece was joyful. That's about it. He seems like a humble person though. I like his attitude.

I'm not sure if it was rigged or really such a coincidence, but the show achieved the tension they wanted when somehow it was GOGO vs H&B and George vs Huang Xiao during the elimination.

I have always liked Huang Xiao but what he said when he was eliminated didn't sit well with me. I thought it was a tad arrogant, like 'You people don't understand MY art.'' Maybe he didn't phrase his words properly but it sure reeks a little of lemons.

Similarly, I didn't like what Lay said when GOGO Brothers were eliminated. Maybe I'm a bit too sensitive but I thought by saying that everything is just a game, it is a little disrespectful - to the other contestants who left their homes and invested 6 months of their lives in the show, to the finalists and their team who worked hard on their final showcase, to the staff members and crew who spent months planning, to the captains who invested time and resources to provide guidance etc. To reduce all of these hard work and effort to 'just a game', just because your team members didn't make it to the top 8. I thought that was really uncalled for and again, reeks of lemons. Compare that to Henry's reactions and words when his team members got eliminated. Henry just came across as real sweet and encouraging, like 'you're still the best in my eyes, this is not the end' etc. There are better ways to encourage and console your team, instead of telling them that this thing doesn't matter, that it's not important.

Final Battle

Seriously, 25 rounds is just way too punishing. You can just see from the dancers' faces but kudos to them for persevering.

I like the vibes towards the end, like it's no longer a competition at that point. It's like a dance collab presented in the form of a battle. Eg. when the Justin Bieber track came on and Bouboo passed the mic over to Yang Kai when it was his turn. The best part was DD vibing to Justin Bieber. Did you all catch him mouthing the words and grooving? WYB's various reactions is really the star of the show. Somebody do a compilation from ep 1 to 12, please.

Despite all that was said and speculated on, I do think Ye Yin deserved the win based on this performance and the battle. Yang Kai had some great moves, like the one that made DD jump up, but overall, Ye Yin showed more versatility, variation, and consistency. There were several rounds where Yang Kai ended before the 30s were up but Ye Yin mostly continued till the end. That said, I have mad respect for all the dancers. I, for one, cannot dance to save my life.

DD raising both Yang Kai and Ye Yin's hands up at the end spoke volumes. They are both winners in his eyes. The message is clear. And the group hug at the end. He loves his Team Boom. You can really tell.

I also like that at the end when DD gave his little winning speech, he spoke about his admiration to all the dancers and how he hope the culture of Street Dance can reach more youth via the show and with the formation of the Alliance. This final moment isn't about Team Boom's victory. It's about their shared love for street dance and bringing this love and street dance culture to more people around the world.

I started watching SDOC because of DD but I stayed for the dancers and their never give up spirit. It is a huge time investment but this journey is an enjoyable one. No doubt it's tiring but I'm pretty sure DD enjoyed his time on the show, especially this season where he managed to learn from so many legends. I doubt he will be back for S5 but if he does, we'll be there with him.

Ending off with this precious smile.

[babydaddyleorio]

falling for you

pairings: Dabi x fem!reader

word count: 1,757

warnings: a shit ton of angst, grammatical errors

The truth was It was over for the two of you. It was a hard pill to swallow, but one that you had to unfortunately accept. 

You and Dabi stood back to back on the rooftop as helicopters twisted and turned above your heads. The spotlight harshly shined across your scathed face and you had to cuff a hand to shield your eyes from the intensity of the brightness. You turned your head, analyzing the current state your boyfriend was in since he endured the most damage. Dabi staggered in his spot as If to be chasing his balance, holding on to the wound that was placed on the side of his stomach. 

The League had tried to carry out the mission of dismantling the hero society completely, using you and Dabi as pawns to infiltrate UA. They wanted to start by eliminating everyone that was present in the school, relieving the city of any future hope they harbored for heroes. The plan was foolproof in your opinion, but It inevitably was sabotaged since the League had a mole planted unbeknownst to them. By the time you and Dabi had arrived at your positions, the heroes were already waiting for you with smiles on their faces. Being severely outnumbered, the both of you were left with no choice but to flee the area. Of course the Heroes were such pests that they ended up trailing you, stopping at nothing to obliterate you and Dabi. You sucked your teeth in annoyance as you recounted all the injuries Dabi had gotten just from trying to protect you.

Your eyes shut themselves, the intense wind from the blades of the many helicopters making your hair fly in all types of directions. Dabi grabbed your hand, feebly looking for any exits that could save you both in this moment, but It was futile since they had already cornered you like flies on a spider’s web. 

“Give yourself up, League of villains! Or else we’ll have no choice but to open fire.” The man who you assumed was the chief policeman yelled into his megaphone while staring down at the both of you with malice in his eyes. Dabi tsked to himself angrily, shaking his head while gripping his body tighter.

“We can’t go out like this.” You spoke suddenly while gazing towards Dabi with creased eyebrows. Dabi chuckled lowly, turning to look at you with a smirk shaping his lips.

“Don’t worry, I got you-”

Before you could even blink, a bullet pierced Dabi straight through his chest, causing him to stumble off the ledge of the building from the immense force. You gasped with wide eyes and flung your body towards him, grabbing on to his hand just before he fell into the black abyss below you. 

“Hang on, I’m going to try to pull you up.” You grunted into the air and mustered all your strength to yank his body, but pain mercilessly shot up your arms as little progress was made from your attempts.

“Stop, It’s no use.” Dabi rasped, sucking in a breath at how unbearable his pain was becoming shortly after doing so. Dabi couldn’t believe how terrible life was looking for him right now. It vexed him that he was able to endure the agonizing suffering Endeavour put him through for years, but a few measly bullets was what was going to take him out of this world?

“No, I think I can do It.” You expressed quickly, continuing your hardest to lug him back to the rooftop. Dabi looked up at you, watching through hooded eyes as you tried your best to keep him afloat. His throat felt dry as he finally came to terms with what he had to do for the both of you right now. His expression became dull as he relaxed his body to fall slack, and confusion blanketed you as you wondered why Dabi had stopped his movements.

“Leave me and save yourself while you still can.” He demanded  and you finally stopped your tugging, in fact your whole body had gone still at his words. 

Leave him? No you could never do such a thing.

“Don’t do this to me, Dabi. We’re a team, I’m not going to leave you.” You insisted, ignoring the nonsense he was currently spewing. Dabi smacked his lips, the pain in his stomach starting to eat away at his patience. 

“Y/n, look at where we are right now. The cops and heroes have surrounded us, I’m hanging off the side of a 200 feet tall building with wounds everywhere, and you can barely hold on.” Dabi squeezed your hand firmly and the feeling still lingered across your palm as you licked your dry lips. 

“It’s time you let go.”

Your mouth fell open, unable to process what Dabi meant by that. You hadn’t realized It yet, but your eyes had begun watering which tampered with your clear vision. You told yourself that this could’ve just been from all the debris that was flying into them, but deep down you knew that your sore eyes was sparked by the ending of your story being closer than you had hoped.

“You know I can’t do that.” Your voice cracked as you spoke and your hands had become overwhelmingly sweaty as you kept an iron grip onto his. Dabi slowly looked up into the obsidian sky, a series of events suddenly playing in front of him as If he were watching a movie. Realization finally hit Dabi as he saw himself and you appear in the clouds.

It was his life flashing before his eyes.

The first scene he saw was the day he first met you and his heart pounded heavily against his chest as his eyes captured the bright smile that swept across your face when he introduced himself to you. What he wouldn’t give to go back to that day. 

The next thing that appeared in front of him was your wedding day. You wore an angelic white dress with your hair done elegantly, and the way your skin glowed as you walked down the aisle was enough to snatch Dabi’s breath away from him. I wish I could have proposed to you and met you at the altar. 

The last thing that was shown above him was Dabi holding you in his arms, your belly being swole as your hands rested endearingly on It. I’ll never get the chance to have the family I’ve always dreamt of.

Tears steadily dropped from Dabi’s eyes, his stomach churning as a helicopter suddenly blocked his view of the future you could have had together.

“Dabi? Do you hear me?” You frantically asked him, having to raise your voice slightly higher to grab his attention. Dabi’s gaze seemed far away to you, but you quickly were reminded that he was still there by the tear you saw roll down his chin.

“I really wish I could’ve been with you until the very end.” Dabi sniffled with a strangled voice and your eyebrows shot up at what he was implying.

“You will be with me until the very end!” You shouted confidently, but Dabi’s vacant gaze was still placed on the black sky. His eyes then shifted down towards you, and your breath caught in your throat as you got a glimpse of the small smile that adorned Dabi’s face. With the little strength Dabi had left, he moved his free hand so that It laid on top of yours. 

“It’s time.” Dabi announced and you moved your head back in disbelief. The sound of what you assumed was the squad of Heroes and policemen's footsteps attacked your ears as they stomped up the stairs that led to where you were at. You couldn’t believe this was all happening and all of It felt as If It were moving too fast.

“No…” You said, barely above a whisper. The wind circulating around you blew harder, and the feeling of uneasiness had sunk down to the pit of your stomach

“Surrender now!” You heard the police yell through his megaphone again, his loud voice now closer than It had been when he first used It.

“Shut up.” You hissed in response, clenching your jaw to the point where It hurt. 

“Let me go, y/n.” Dabi urged, and by now your ears had begun ringing from the police sirens that surrounded you.

“Shut up.” You were pleading now, shaking your head side to side as tears streamed from your swollen eyes.

“Give yourselves up right now or we’ll do it by force!” The chief shouted into his megaphone once again and your whole body started to convulse as a sob took over you.

“Shut up, shut up! All of you just shut up!” You yelled repeatedly, closing your eyes tightly as their voices invaded your head. You didn’t want to give yourself up, and you didn’t want to let go of Dabi either. You banged your fist on the cement ground as you heard the footsteps of the police get louder.

“Don’t you think this hurts me too? I don’t want to leave you, but I need to do this. You’ve helped me so much, I don’t know where I would be without you.” Dabi yelled over everything, hoping to be the one that captured all your attention. You looked down at him and saw the pain that was sprawled across his face, hiccuping as the spotlight stopped over you once again.

“Please, do this last favor for me y/n.” Dabi begged, this time his voice desperate. “Please let me go.”

Your hand was tired and at that moment you could see that Dabi was too. His eyes were low and blood had now seeped across his T-Shirt, making It crimson instead of the white It was before you left your home. You felt claustrophobic as everyone demanded that you listened to their commands and with one last look at your shaking hands, you had decided what to do. You inhaled a deep breath of the frigid night air before slowly nodding your head.

“Okay.” You finally said, the door behind you bursting open, showcasing the many heroes and policemen that were here to execute you.

“Okay.” Dabi smiled weakly, his eyes shining under the harsh light.

You turned your head to the side while shutting your eyes, letting Dabi’s fingers slip from yours. 

“Y/n, look at me.” Dabi requested and you reluctantly opened your eyes to see his face one last time. The policemen were closing in on you now and It had finally dawned on you that time had run out for the two of you and It was nothing you could do to get It back. 

Dabi’s hand dropped out of yours and you watched with a heavy heart as his body plummeted to the ground. Dabi’s hair had covered his eyes, but you still were able to get a glimpse of his upturned lips as he grew farther and farther away from you.

I love you, he mouthed and your bottom lip quivered as you mouthed It back.

I love you too, Dabi.

 Dabi closed his eyes, spreading his arms wide as the air tickled his skin.

He heard your piercing scream as gravity pushed him down faster, a lone tear managing to cascade down his cheek.

“I’ll see you in our next life.” Were the last words that fell from Dabi’s mouth before his world went blank and your loud cries filled the air.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

One of the very last events I attended before the lockdown was a thing in Silicon Valley attended by many old friends, but the best moment of all was the chance to hang out with Kim Stanley Robinson, a friend and inspiration.

That's when Stan told me he had just finished a book that might be his last-ever novel, The Ministry For the Future, and that his future work would be nonfiction, starting with his long-planned book about the Sierras.

I was stricken. Robinson's novels are a lifeline for me.

The first Robinson novel I read may just be my favorite: Pacific Edge, a green utopian novel about a successful transition to a post-climate-emergency, just and stable world. Re-reading it is a vacation from all my anxieties, still.

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/01/15/pacific-edge-the-most-uplifting-novel-in-my-library/

My first novel, DOWN AND OUT IN THE MAGIC KINGDOM, wouldn't exist without Pacific Edge. That was the book that taught me that small disputes over beloved local treasures could be as dramatic as (and microcosms for) global conflicts.

I have been both dreading and anticipating MINISTRY FOR THE FUTURE, not wanting to read my last KSR novel but also wanting so badly to read this one, because it's the book in which he imagines the end of capitalism.

You've heard the phrase, "It is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism," variously attributed to Frederic Jameson and Slavoj Žižek. As the author of a couple of postcapitalist novels, I have a real appreciation for the details of that truism.

It's actually not all that hard to imagine a postcapitalist society - but imagining the actual END of capitalism, the euthanasia of the rentier, the reversal of the doctrine of virtuous selfishness, the abandonment of the idea that some are born to rule, that is damned hard.

And while PACIFIC EDGE is my favorite KSR novel, my favorite KSR series is the string of books that starts with 2012's 2312 - a string of books that really leans hard into imagining the actual end of capitalism.

xhttps://memex.craphound.com/2015/01/15/pacific-edge-the-most-uplifting-novel-in-my-library/

2312 is set 300 years into postcapitalism. It's a novel of solar-system-scale civilization, riven by its own problems and contradictions, filled with tech marvels, a tale of natural wonders that showcase Robinson's incredible, John-Muir-grade genius for pastoral writing.

2312 was followed up by Aurora, one of the best space-exploration novels ever written, about the arrival of the first-ever generation ship at its destination world, and the hasty retreat it is required to stage.

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/11/02/kim-stanley-robinsons-aurora-space-is-bigger-than-you-think/

The book provoked a vitriolic reaction from science fiction's great reactionaries! I love a book that enrages the right people, and I was delighted to publish Robinson's rebuttal to their peevish complaints.

https://boingboing.net/2015/11/16/our-generation-ships-will-sink.html

From there, we move on to New York 2140, a novel of a pivotal moment in the transformation of capitalism and its relationship to the climate emergency.

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/03/18/new-york-2140-kim-stanley-robinson-dreams-vivid-about-weathering-climate-crisis/

These are like an artilleryman rangfinding a mortar, first overshooting his target and then walking his fire back, drawing closer to his bullseye. For Robinson, bullseye is the moment at which our society is transformed into one that can survive the coming emergencies.

It's telling that the 2312 books never got there. It is so fucking hard to imagine the end of capitalism.

But that is what The Ministry For the Future Does.

Sort of.

It's a novel about a specialized UN agency, chartered through the Paris Climate Agreement to represent unborn generations and the natural world in legal proceedings related to climate devastation.

Talking about this book, Robinson has described it as a kind of futuristic documentary, told in many voices, as a way of describing a phenomenon as vast as this global transformation.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/14/final_ver2/#ksr

Like many docs, it follows a couple of main characters, but weaves in dozens of other voices, some of whom we hear from only once or twice, recounting pivotal moments in which a moment calves away from our reality as we know it - moments of shear, giddy and terrifying.

Robinson is so good at this stuff. This is the book that he has been practicing for all his life. The vignettes are superb little jewels, mostly illuminating flashbulb moments in the lives of strangers met fleetingly.

But some of the most powerful moments don't even have characters: there's a transcript of the openng a fictional congress of global climate remediation groups after the crisis that is just an alphabetical list of countries and their associated projects.

This literally made me burst into tears of joy, bursting with hope at the thought that we could, as a species, spawn so many evocative and hopeful projects to save our world, our species, and our nonhuman cohabitants.

Robinson's versatility is on glorious display here: from long lists of hypothetical ecological projects, he veers into closely told moments of human endeavor in the natural world, showcasing his pastoralism with scenes so vivid you could reach out and touch them.

But all that said, the most interesting thing about this book is the stuff that Robinson couldn't or wouldn't put on the page. Robinson's hypothetical scenario for the end of capitalism is a baroque scheme of global cryptocurrency money-creation tied to carbon drawdown.

His technocrats trick capitalism into spending itself out of existence in a plan that is by turns brainy and daffy (as all blockchainism tends to be), with some pretty epic handwaving (especially when it comes to the breakup of tech monopolies).

But all of that would fail were it not for acts of absolutely brutal, ruthless terrorism. Robinson's transformation isn't merely about the carrots of double-bluff get-rich-quick schemes, it's heavily dependent on the stick of terror.

The aviation industry isn't (just) replaced by airships and rail because it's better and cleaner - but also because parties unknown use drones to bring down every private jet in the sky, and then commercial liners, until the aviation industry seizes up and dies.

And the world doesn't abandon beef because vegans win the moral argument or because greenies win the practical one - the decisive factor is drones that dart an unknowable plurality of the world's cattle with bovine spongiform encephalopathy.

There's more - pitiless, remorseless, anonymous. And while Robinson gets up close and personal with one traumatized individual who engages in an ecologically motivated, short-lived (and nonlethal) kidnapping, we never meet any of the terrorists or their victims.

The terror that begets the transition is recounted in the dry language of an encyclopedia entry, not dramatized like the pivotal moments of so many other characters.

It's a very telling omission.

My 2019 novella "Radicalized" is about an online community of men who, after watching their most treasured family members die slow, painful, preventable deaths because of insurance company fuckery, become suicide bombers who murder health execs.

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2019/05/who-says-violence-doesnt-solve-anything-a-review-of-radicalized-four-tales-of-our-present-moment-by-cory-doctorow.html

Writing that story was an intensely uncomfortable experience (and, judging from reader comments, it can be uncomfortable to read, too).

It's one thing to recognize that a systemic problem might not be solved without grotesque, mass violence, and another to put yourself in the shoes of either the perpetrators or the victims.

Robinson's end of capitalism is, superficially, a story of a transition, not a spasm, not a capital-T Terror. The lives we inhabit in this novel are people who are engaged in struggle, but not mass-murder.

But right there on the page is Robinson's uncomfortable and only partially elided conviction that we're not in for a transition, but rather a bloodletting, a reckoning commensurate with the ecocidal crimes that led up to this moment.

MINISTRY is a book that, on first consideration, feels like a utopia - not merely for the beautiful descriptions of people, animals and environments finding a way through the emergencies, but for the emergencies resolution.

But on closer examination, MINISTRY represents the dark fears of one of our brightest, most hopeful writers, that the world can only be saved by means that are literally too terrible to contemplate up close.

It's an uncomfortable read. It's a brilliant book. If it indeed turns out to be Stan's last novel (oh please don't let it be Stan's last novel), it will be a fitting capstone. But the subtext of this book is that we are past the point of no return.

Not only will rescuing our planet entail sacrifices of species, habitats, and coastlines - it will also entail sacrifices of the moral convictions that make vast spectacles of bloodletting unthinkable.

[thebiasrekkers]

Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 06: Convergence

Plot: Riding in on thunder and lightning, two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared. It can only be worn by one and one alone. The hands of man have separated the brothers, allowing one to live in wealth and comfort inside the palace while the other grows up among commoners. But Fate cannot be destroyed by the hands of man. A shared destiny reunites the brothers; one to become a king who descends into madness and the other will rise as a dragon whose journey has only just begun in order to claim a crown he does not desire to have.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: series | historical!au | fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama | tragedy

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 01 02 03 04 05

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 4,065

Tag List: @luxekook, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @stillcopingxx, @taevkimchi, @aroseforyoongi, @vivpurple7, @happilystrongthroughthedark, @sw33tnight, @nikkitane, @mini-coop25, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland​

AN: Sorry this took me so long. Life decided it wanted to kick me in the face repeatedly. But I did warn everyone this was going to take a little time with the updates. Please be patient with me. I promise you that it will be worth the wait. If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to drop me a line!

P.S. Please bear in mind that while the historical accuracy will be mostly correct, I am setting this in a time period in Joseon history where there was no such thing as a king who had a twin brother. Obviously that’s where the fiction/creative freedom is going to come in. Everything else will be period accurate, trust and believe.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Things do not happen. Things are made to happen.” - John F. Kennedy

Yoon greeted his parents with the Crown Princess at his side. They both bowed deeply as they heard the King and Queen laugh in delight. The Royal Consorts also received bows from the Crown Prince and Princess. Finally, they turned and were given bows from the princesses and princes of the Royal Court. The officials and guards, as well as the rest of the palace staff, were present for the opening ceremony to celebrate Crown Prince Yoon’s first international liaison. 

When they were finally dismissed, Yoon took his seat next to the Crown Princess, waiting for food and wine to be served. Various voices of praise and congratulations were given to Yoon, to which he simply nodded his head politely and smiled while returning his own charming forms of gratitude. He allowed the Crown Princess to serve him a cup of wine and he, in turn, also served her. Merriment and good cheer surrounded the palace.

It made Yoon sick to his stomach.

The conversation he had with his Father-In-Law still didn’t sit well with him. At his own behest, he politely reminded Minister Jang that he should keep his small-minded ambitions to himself. He didn’t need to drag the Crown Princess into his mess. Regardless of his own personal feelings, Yoon held a deep amount of respect for his Princess. Jang Chae-Ok had no ambitions or selfish desires for wanting to be Crown Princess. She was simply a childhood friend to Yoon who always remained faithfully at his side. 

The Crown Princess was not blind to his relationship with Kalina. But she also did not question it. It was from this show of her character alone that Yoon promised he would not take a Royal Consort when he became King. He owed her that much for her understanding.

“I wish that I could accompany you, Your Highness.” The Crown Princess’s voice was sad, matching her expression. 

He reached out to grasp her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It will be a long journey. It is no place for a Crown Princess.” Yoon smiled. “I will be back before you realize I’m gone.”

She sighed. “I will miss you greatly.” She placed her hand over his. “Do be careful.”

“I will, Crown Princess.”

A loud gong resounded, drawing everyone’s attention. All conversation hushed as the head of the Artisan school approached. He bowed deeply while the others waited with anticipation for his announcement. 

“Members of the Royal Court! We are here to celebrate the Crown Prince’s upcoming journey. We wish him great fortune but before he traverses out in the world, we want to be able to ease his worries and give him memories to hold on to as he travels to Ming. Things that he will be able to keep close to his heart and treasure if he should ever become homesick.” 

Yoon smiled, despite his own internal dark thoughts. He loved his country. He loved his people. The skills they mastered in order to have these small moments to showcase their talents were clearly battles within their own houses. Some performers and artists had better skills than others, hence why they were allowed to appear at the forefront. Others were still in training to be able to climb up in the ranks along the way. 

He secretly admired the drive that pushed these individuals along. Everyone had dreams, goals, and ambitions. People’s reasons for doing anything were threads that bonded everyone together to achieve common goals. No matter how small or big, they were to be appreciated. Even if one could not voice these appreciations aloud. 

The Chief Artisan gave a wide gesture, spinning on his heels as the performers made their way into the grand courtyard. “We hope that our performers, both within the palace walls, and those who have managed to make their ways from the streets, will be able to soothe your soul.”

Everyone applauded as Senior Artisan stepped away, allowing for the in house performers to showcase everything they’ve practiced for days. Curiously, Yoon hummed to himself at the mention of street performers entering the palace. If they were skilled enough to gain the court’s attention, there was a good chance they would be given slots to enter the performance schools within the palace halls. It would be a golden opportunity to change their livelihoods for the better.

He was keen to see just what they were made of.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

Jimin clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, silencing Taehyung’s whining. “Hyung-nim is filling in for Namjoon Hyung-nim.” His eyes narrowed. “Surely you don’t expect him to wear the dress, do you?”

Taehyung pouted. “No, but still!”

“Besides,” Hoseok cut in, patting Taehyung’s shoulders roughly, “we all memorized multiple parts in case something happens. We only had time for Hyung-nim to learn one. Stop being difficult.”

Yoongi smirked, shaking his head while readjusting the waistband to his costume. The large rosary that hung from his neck was heavy and the boots were a little bit cumbersome, but bearable. He would be able to switch his shoes out when it came time for the tightrope routine. Jungkook and Seokjin fawned over him, making sure he looked as proper as he could in performance gear. 

Namjoon appeared, holding out a red and black demon mask to him. “I gave it some new paint earlier so it should be dry now.”

Taking the mask from him, Yoongi cradled it in his hands. “Thank you, Namjoon-ah.” He scratched at the cloth headband. “What will you be doing during the performance?”

“I’ll be narrating and helping the musicians out. Percussion, mostly.” 

“I see.” Yoongi eyed the mask, taking note of the large white fangs protruding from the mouth carved into the wood. 

Because of the depth of the role, he wouldn’t be able to take his mask off during the entire performance. Beneficial for him, but he hated that Namjoon wouldn’t be getting any credit. Yoongi knew how hard they all must have been preparing for this particular performance. A small measure of guilt wormed its way into his heart, but Namjoon’s laugh brought him out of his thoughts. 

“Now I feel even more terrible, Hyung-nim.” Yoongi saw the concerned look on Namjoon’s face, even though he was smiling. “Seriously, you’re doing me a favor. I feel bad enough. If you keep looking like that, I’ll think I’m completely worthless.”

“I’m sorry, Namjoon-ah.” Clearing his throat, he nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

“Thank the heavens you’re wearing a mask.” Taehyung pushed his headband up a little more. “Otherwise the audience is going to think you’re guilty of some crime.”

“It’s just nerves.” Jimin flashed Yoongi a reassuring smile. “Right, Hyung-nim?”

All he could do was give a small smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hayan Geutop Troupe?” An unfamiliar voice pulled all of their attention. They saw someone dressed in official robes motioning toward them. “You’re up next.”

No one could hide their excitement. This was the first time any of them would be entering the palace. Each of them were given temporary passes to gain access. Once inside, they all made sure they were looking their best. The sound of joyful laughter and music rumbled through the courtyard, causing Yoongi’s heartbeat to elevate with excitement.

“Hyung-nim!” Jungkook gently nudged Yoongi’s back. “Your mask! Don’t forget to put it on!”

“Oh. Right.” Yoongi slid the large Demon mask over his head, making sure the cloth headwrap covered every part of his neck from view except the front. 

The sound of loud drums rang out through the courtyard. It was a little bit difficult to breathe with the mask on, but not impossible. If anything, Yoongi was more concerned with the mask falling off by accident. But Hoseok assured him that the bands were secured and redesigned to fit his head perfectly. It wouldn’t come off unless he pulled it off himself.

Admittedly, his nerves were a little frayed. Being around so many people at once, as well as so much noise, was teetering him toward sensory overload. But he continued to remind himself that he had a job to do. He just needed to get through the performance and then he could continue exploring the Crown City to his heart’s content. They were set to ride back out to the mountains at first light.

He hoped the shops would still be open before the lanterns were lit.

The large drum was hit, signaling for everyone to settle down. Yoongi took another breath, waiting for their group to be announced in front of the Royal Court. His vision was limited through the small holes in his mask - the rest of the world shadowed on either side of him. He could hear his own breath in his ears as he tried to peer out in front of him. But he wasn’t sure what he was even looking for. There was a strange pull at his heart; a feeling he couldn’t quite explain. 

Like someone was calling to him.

No. Like multiple people were calling to him.

“Members of the Royal Court! I present to you a troupe of young performers who hail from the outskirts of the Crown City!” The Chief Artisan looked in their direction as some of the students in the palace artisan school helped to set up their stage. “The White Tower Troupe!”

There was a round of polite applause from all the members of the royal court. The other troupe members were helping to set up the first scene for their skit. Yoongi waited patiently, even though he offered to help. Taehyung and Hoseok insisted that he stand back and focus on the performance. It wouldn’t take them long to get the set pieces ready. Once everything was put together, Namjoon walked gently forward and bowed deeply to the Royal family seated at the large banquet table.

“Please forgive our lack of eloquence, Your Majesties, as we attempt to regale you with a story. It is one I am sure you are all familiar with, but allow us to perform it for you just the same.” He flicked out the large fan in his hand, a picture of a blue sky and a green field painted on it. “We humbly present to you...the Tale of Green Pearl and the Demon!”

Yoon felt Chae-Ok grab his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He cast a sidelong glance in her direction, noting the soft pink flush that tinted her cheeks. He knew it wasn’t from the wine but more from her excitement. He smiled as she met his gaze.

“Oh, I love this story!” She looked back out toward the courtyard. “I’m interested to see how they will tell it.”

“As am I.”

The bass drum resounded through the large space just as the troupe finished setting up for the first scene. The narrator who spoke walked off to the sidelines and took a seat on a plush cushion that was provided for him. Silence draped over everyone present as the actors moved to their positions. 

“Many years ago, there was a humble man who lived a humble life. He had a humble trade and a humble wife. The wife bore him two children. A son named White Fang and a daughter named Green Pearl.”

Yoon watched as the narrator spoke about each character. One by one, they all appeared - their faces concealed with wooden masks painted in eloquent designs. Lingering off to the side was an actor clothed in black, red and gold garbs - a demon mask covering his face. Yoon felt his heart beating a little faster as he gazed at the person, unsure of why this strange sensation was lurching in his chest. 

The narrator slapped his stick against the small drum cradled in his lap. “As the seasons changed and the children grew older, the father became ill. The wife sent for what physicians they could afford and the old apothecary said that there was nothing he could do. The wife was distraught, unsure of what would become of her or her children should her husband leave this world for his journey to the afterlife.”

“Seobang-nim! You cannot leave us like this!” The wife sobbed beside the husband, cradling his hand between her palms. “What are we to do without you? How are we supposed to live?!”

“Don’t worry, Mother,” said White Fang as he placed his hand over his mother’s, “I will find a way to cure Father. I will travel across foreign lands until I can find the medicine that will save Father’s life!”

Again, the narrator struck the drum. “White Fang left to search for a cure for his ailing father, leaving his mother and sister behind.”

Yoon watched the person portraying Green Pearl moving toward the backdrop meant to pose as a wide open field. A lone tree stood off in the distance where she clasped her hands together and prayed. 

“Gods of Heaven, I beseech you! Please help my father. Please find a way to help him get better!” cried Green Pearl as she lowered her head, all but sobbing into her hands.

Heavy drums beat softly, signaling an ominous transition. Yoon watched as the actor portraying the demon slowly moved forward, until he was mere feet from the Royal Banquet table. The Demon whipped his head around to face the Royal family, causing everyone to lean back and gasp. 

All except Yoon.

Maybe it was the optical illusion of the mask, but he swore that the demon was looking directly at him. His heartbeat escalated, a soft thunder against his chest, and he waited for the demon to speak. There was a line here. Yoon remembered it. A line where the demon spoke to the audience of his wicked scheme.

But the demon said nothing. All he did was stare. Had the actor forgotten his lines?

“A demon heard Green Pearl’s cries, intrigued by her earnest wailings.”

The narrator cut through the silence. This seemed to wake the demon up, causing him to swiftly shuffle back a few steps as he threw his arm out in a dramatic flourish. 

“The sweet sound of sorrow nourishes my heart,” the Demon exclaimed, curling his shoulders forward. He pressed a hand against his face, fingers gliding over the white fangs on the mask. “It is the sound of easy prey. How I have longed to devour such a miserable soul!”

He heard the Crown Princess gasp as the Demon ran forward, leaping into the air and landing on the tightrope with amazing ease. Yoon quirked a brow, internally admiring the actor’s swiftness and balancing abilities. The Demon leaned forward, slinging his legs out until he was hanging upside down from the rope. 

Green Pearl took a sharp intake of breath, clutching at the front of her dress. “W-Who goes there?”

“A humble and curious Demon. But nevermind me, Sweet Child.” The Demon spoke in a cooing and sweet voice. “What seems to be ailing you? What causes you to mourn so?”

“My father is ill and there is no way to save him. My brother has left to travel in hopes of finding medicine to cure him.” Green Pearl turned away from the Demon, looking off in the distance. “I mourn for my family and what is to become of them should my father pass.”

The Demon laughed, swinging his body so that he was now sitting upright on the tightrope. He rested a hand on his knee and leaned forward, drawing Green Pearl’s attention once more. “This is a simple problem with a simple solution.”

“It is anything but simple!”

“Oh, but it is!” The Demon hopped onto the rope, bouncing up and down in a playful manner. “Because I know how to save your ailing father!”

Green Pearl stepped toward the tree, her hand reaching up toward the Demon but she was far out of his reach. “What do you know? Please, tell me how to save my father!”

The Demon bounced on the rope a few more times before dismounting, landing just a few feet away from her. He placed his hands behind his back and paced, not really bothering to stray too far from her but not coming too close. “There is a flower that grows in the western mountains. It is said that creating a potion from this flower can cure any illness.” He spun on his heels just as Green Pearl tried to approach him, causing her to halt in her steps. “But it is an arduous journey. Many have died trying to claim this flower.”

“Can you guide me to this mountain?” 

The Demon circled her, his steps slow and measured. “What will you give me if I decide to lend you my aid?”

“Whatever you wish to claim from me, Sir!” Green Pearl fell to her knees. “No boon is too great when it comes to saving the life of my father!”

The Demon knelt down before Green Pearl, lifting her face to meet his. “You will become my bride. That is the price you must pay if you wish to obtain my help.”

“If marrying a demon is the trade we are making, then I would marry you a thousand times.” 

The Demon pulled Green Pearl up onto her feet, a hearty laugh bursting from his chest. “Then come! Let us be off! The day grows shorter and the journey will be that much harder for you when the night comes.”

A gong and more heavy drums rang out as the Demon and Green Pearl exited the stage. Troupe members hurried to change the set backdrop to suit the next scene transition. 

“So Green Pearl and the Demon hurried toward the Western Mountains. The journey was, indeed, arduous. Many perils crossed their paths, but the Demon protected Green Pearl every step of the way. The harshest trek, however, was the path leading up toward the mountains. Wild animals impeded their path. Even the cold mountain winds attempted to blow the two off the krags so they would plummet to their deaths.”

With each scene change, a linen drape with a painted landscape was swapped. The serene music fit the pacing of each scene and the narrator’s strong voice pushed the actors to continue through the skit. Yoon knew this tale very well. Yet watching it unfold in this manner made the story seem brand new. He was particularly drawn to the Demon, unable to shake the tremors in his heart as the masked performer’s moves seemed fluid and natural.

“Finally, Green Pearl and the Demon reached the top of the mountain peaks. There was the mythical flower the Demon mentioned. It was a rich purple in pigment, the stem a soft green and nestled among a cluster of clovers. In the snow and cold temperature, there was no way that any vegetation should have flourished, let alone this single flower.”

Green Pearl reached for the flower, preparing to dig it up from the earth. Suddenly, she was stopped by the Demon’s harsh pull at her wrist. “W-What are you doing?!”

“Do not forget your promise to me, dear Child.” He pulled her flush against him. “You are to be my bride the moment your father is well. And not a minute later.”

“I haven’t forgotten our deal, Demon!” Green Pearl pushed away from him. “We must hurry back quickly!”

A soft bell tinkling sound issued from a row of wind chimes. The Demon laughed, grasping onto Green Pearl and jumping up toward the tightrope. Everyone watching sucked in their breaths as a stream of dark blue fabric followed after them. The Demon dragged Green Pearl behind him as the actors portrayed him using his powers to help them travel quickly. The two actors almost appeared to float across the thick line of rope.

“The Demon used his powers to transport Green Pearl and himself down the mountain. When they reached the foot of the mountain, they instantly moved through the fields. Within minutes, they were back in Green Pearl’s humble village. He safely brought her home and Green Pearl wasted no time preparing the flower into a medicinal tonic for her father.”

Green Pearl appeared next to her mother, holding out a wooden bowl. “This tonic will help Father. Please, we must hurry!”

The Wife started to feed the potion to the ailing Husband. In minutes, he started to rise up from his bed. He held his wife’s hands and she threw herself into his arms. 

“Husband! You are well!” she cried as her husband held her close. 

He laughed, stroking her back. “Yes, I am well, Pu-in. But tell me, what has helped me come back from the gates of the Underworld?”

“I traveled far to retrieve a flower that is said to cure any illness.” Green Pearl hugged her father’s neck.

“A flower?” He tilted his head to the side. “How did you come to learn of this flower?”

Green Pearl lowered her head. “A Demon told me. He guided me to the Western Mountains and I plucked the flower from the highest peak.”

Both the husband and wife looked at each other, clutching at their chests. The father reached out for his daughter’s hands. “You foolish girl! How could you make an agreement with a demon?!”

“Don’t you know that a deal with a demon only breeds disaster?!” The mother shook Green Pearl’s shoulders. “You have sold your soul to the Underworld!”

Green Pearl pulled herself away from her family. “I’m sorry!” She ran out of the house where the Demon was waiting for her. “We must hurry!”

The Demon grabbed her hand in his. “Let us leave this place!”

“Stop right there, you foul trickster!” The Father appeared, brandishing a wheat sickle. “Release my daughter, this instant!”

The Demon laughed. “The deal has been made, Human! You cannot break the contract!” 

The sound of a gong exploded over the courtyard, causing the Demon to gasp. When he looked down, there was a sword plunged through his stomach. As he turned, the assailant stepped forward to push the blade through his gut even further. The Demon reached out with a bloodied hand toward the one who attacked him. 

“B-Brother!”

White Fang ripped the sword from the Demon’s body, causing the Demon to fall to his knees. His head hung low and Green Pearl was instantly at the Demon’s side. He finally collapsed to the ground and Green Pearl clung to his shivering form. 

“What have you done?!” she screamed as the Demon continued to tremble in her arms. “Why did you strike him?!”

“It was a Demon, Green Pearl!” White Fang dropped the sword from his hand and the satchel from his back. “They only breed misfortune!”

“Y-You fool,” sputtered the Demon, “I would have given her a good life.” A trembling arm lifted as he pointed at White Fang. “Because of your actions, you have now condemned your sister to death.”

“What?!” White Fang dropped to his knees. The husband and wife hurried forward. “What lies do you speak, Demon?”

The Demon turned to look up at Green Pearl. “I will not be able to give you a life you deserve.” He touched the side of her face. “But I will be able to stay with you in the Afterlife. Always.”

“I am sorry for the cruel nature of man! Forgive me!” Green Pearl sobbed, burying her face in the Demon’s shoulder. “I will see you on the other side.”

And then the Demon’s hand fell limply to the ground. Seconds later, Green Pearl collapsed next to him.

Silence filled the courtyard. No one spoke. Hardly anyone took a moment to breathe, Yoon included. 

It was broken the minute that the King began to clap. The Queen soon followed until everyone at the Royal Banquet table rose from their seats and applauded. Yoon was still stunned, but he, too, clapped. The actors remained where they were - unmoving. However, the narrator stepped forward and bowed deeply to them. The tragic scene remained, but the story’s message still lingered in the air. 

Even a Demon was deserving of love and a person could see beyond the surface to one’s true heart.

But when promises were broken, a terrible fate would await. 

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 06 | Boolean Logic  | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 05: Your friends have good intentions when eavesdropping on your first tinder date. When things don’t go exactly as you imagined, there’s comfort to be found elsewhere. A charming gesture takes your breath away and you find yourself dangerously close to crossing a line you’d never thought of before.

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 12.8K

Series: Love Bytes (6/?)

Genre: F2L, fluff, humor, SLOW BURN, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, smut, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, S O F T Namjoon, did i mention slow burn??? :)

CW: anxiety, panic attacks, some negative self-talk, dirty talk, teasing, grinding, dry-humping

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7 masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Do not repost.

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It’s been twenty minutes since Seokjin barged into your apartment and started listing all the things you did wrong on your date. You’d be mortified if you hadn’t already dealt with Yoongi earlier in the evening, telling you much of the same. He’d already covered the basics of looking at your date and given you a touching pep talk about knowing your worth. You’d be double mortified if not for the fact that you’re slightly distracted.

Not even thirty seconds before Jin walked in, you’d willingly put Namjoon in a position to grope your tits and it’s been on a relentless loop that surfaces between every other word Jin has to say. Kim Namjoon. Dorky professor? Firewall enforcer? Clumsy bestie? Thorn in your goddamn side? It’s only consuming every bit of brainpower as you wordlessly nod along to Jin’s lecture about the importance of posture in showcasing one’s demeanor.

Namjoon has been sitting across the room with a plate of half-eaten food before him, growing more amused by the tale Jin spins of your disastrous behaviors. He’s blowing everything way out of proportion, but you can’t muster the energy to fight him on it, not when the gears are grinding so hard to form a solid reasoning behind your earlier actions. But every time your eyes gloss over and you replay the scene in your mind, your stomach forms knots that cause you to repeatedly cross your legs over one another. You’ve done it at least three times now and both men have definitely noticed so you’re consciously fighting the urge to repeat the action.

Jin attributes it to your fidgety nature, tying it back to the way you had squirmed under the scrutiny of your date. “Y/N, I don’t think you’re really getting it. I need you to pretend we’re on a date. Here. Namjoon, be the observer.”

“Gladly,” Namjoon replies, happily slurping up a mess of noodles and fixing his gaze on your reaction.

You don’t even bother wasting a glance on the man on the floor as Jin angles his body towards you. He folds a leg over his lap, plants an elbow on the back of the sofa and rests his cheek on his palm as he leans towards you. The famous panty-dropping smoulder makes an appearance and you can’t help but feel a bit flustered by the intensity he brings to the charade. Your shoulders raise like they might shield you from the attack of such a gorgeous face. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.”

This is torture.

You drum your fingertips on your thighs and look down at them briefly before remembering your conversation with Yoongi. Nervous eyes tear themselves away from the stubble coming in on your kneecap, forcing you to focus on the piercing gaze of Seokjin.

“Well…” you begin, fully intending to let this play out, but freeze once your eyes land on his face. “Why do you look angry? I can’t talk to you when you look like that.”

“What do you mean? Do I really look angry to you?” Jin’s brow sinks even lower towards the bridge of his nose.

Stifling a giggle, you nod and smack your lips. “It’s good practice if I ever go on a date with grumpy cat. So cute, yet so grumpy.”

You boop him on the nose and he swats your hand away. “Are you going to tell me about yourself or continue to dishonor the memory of grumpy cat?”

A sigh passes your lips. “I don’t know what to say,” you finally admit with a wince. “My life is so boring. Like, what am I supposed to say? Hi, I’m Y/N. I work on people’s computers all day and answer boring emails and support calls. In my free time I like getting drunk and laughing at videos of cats falling off of things, playing video games with friends --most of which are men by the way, is that cool?-- and going for walks at sunset.” You pause and let him take that in. “Ooh, or should I be like every generic profile I’ve seen? I like going on adventures! Hanging with friends! Living my best life. I’m an old soul. Here for a good time, not a long time! EL OH EL hit me up on Snapchat.”

The animated nature of your features quickly fades as you slump against the cushions. “I mean and here I thought I was boring as fuck. But Chul comes along and actually proves to me that I can be topped. And not in the yummy dom way.”

Namjoon chokes on a piece of pork and smacks his chest a few times, successfully dislodging it from the back of his throat.

Jin curiously roams his eyes across your face, flickering back and forth between your eyes and lips. “Ah, so... you prefer to be the sub?”

A heat rises to your cheeks and you know answering is a trap, but the longer his question hangs in the air the more flustered you become. “Are-Are you kidding? Like I’m gonna be the sub. You know I have to control everything.”

Lies are easier to tell when they’re coated with a layer of truth, no matter how thin that layer may be.

“True.” Namjoon swallows, the remnants of his cough sputtering from his mouth.

Jin considers your answer for a moment and grins, flashing you his pearly whites. “So you dom then? What’s that like?”

The other man in the room dribbles water onto his shirt at the question. He’s about ready to give up on breathing altogether. Jin knows it, too. That’s what makes this game so much fun.

You drag your teeth across your lip, trying not to think about the implication that Jin is also not a dom. “So! Enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Jin.”

With that, Seokjin snaps his fingers and points at you. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner! People love to talk about themselves. If you’re out of ideas on what to talk about, ask your date something about himself based on whatever random information you have. Give him a chance to impress you. Take me, for example. I am the head chef at Heart & Seoul, where I give everyone a taste of my heart … and soul. Everyone who has ever tried my food says it reminds them of home. You should come by sometime. I’ll make a plate special for you, courtesy of the handsome god of cookery.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, that’s certainly a statement.”

“Ask me about my food!” he prods, nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t you want to know what kind of plate I’d make for you?”

“Jin, I already know your food is good. I don’t need to ask--”

“It’s Barbe-cute,” he blurts, clearly proud of himself.

“You’re so…” You try to finish the thought but start laughing as he breaks into his own windshield-wiper cackle. A defeated half sigh, half grumble follows the trail where your laughter leaves off. “I just feel like this is the worst part, you know? Trying to explain to people who I am and why I matter. It’s like, on one hand, I don’t care! This is awful! And I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. But then… on the other hand… What if they don’t like me? Like Chul? Chul made up his mind the moment he saw me in person. He didn’t like me and I don’t know that there’s anything I could do to change that. I feel so stupid! ‘Cause I’m like, bro, didn’t you see my photos? Didn’t you look at my profile? Like why you gotta be so judgy when we talked all day?”

The man on the couch next to you uses his large hands to anchor the wrists that you’ve unconsciously been waving around during your tirade. “Okay see, this is what I’m talking about. You need to slow down and stop waving your arms whenever you speak. Imagine you’re a sloth. Slooow motions.” He uses his grip to slowly push you back against the cushion. “Relax.”

You puff air out of your lips indignantly. “Jin, I can’t. I’m not wired like a sloth. I’m more of a...a...” You shake your head, unable to find the word you’re searching for.

“Hummingbird,” Namjoon chimes in quietly, rapidly flapping his fingers up and down to mock you.

Jin laughs at the comparison, pushing you back against the seat when you begin to rise. “Oh, little hummingbird. Sit. Stay.”

Your brow furrows and a pout stains your lips as you comply, rigid shoulders resting flush against the couch.

“Good girl,” Namjoon adds with a snicker.

Ignoring the excitement stirring in your belly at the words, you narrow your eyes at him and he clutches his heart. “Oh wow if looks could kill…”

You finally sigh, dragging your hands down your face. “Jin, I get it. I suck at everything.”

“Oh don’t start that,” he scowls, jabbing your knees with a bony finger. “You’re perfectly fine. You may be a mess but you’re actually a very adorable mess.”

“Fuck off.” You wriggle away from his touch, grimacing at the nod of agreement Namjoon sends your way. “Both of you.”

“I mean it.” Jin laughs between words. “You are a delight, Y/N. Just because you have things you need to work on doesn’t make that any less true. And I'm only telling you that you need to work on these things because you are my dear, dear friend. I want to see you succeed and live your best life." He cocks his head to one side and gives Namjoon a pointed look while you're distractedly glowering. "Especially if you're dating another mess of a human, maybe someone even worse than you. Someone has to have manners. You can't both be terrible at everything."

Jin's eyes snap back to your face as he becomes the focus of your deadpan stare. "Thanks for the pep talk.”

A hand clasps your shoulder and the weight of his arm drapes across the expanse of your back. He uses his grip as leverage to press you against his torso as he scoots closer to you. "Oh, it's okay. You just have to stop trying to knock your date out. Just try to focus on that one thing for your next one okay?”

“I kind of don’t want a next one,” you grumble, allowing your cheek to fall against his collarbone. “Not if it has to feel this bad after every time.”

Wisps of his hair tickle the side of your face as he shakes his head close to yours and tightens the hug. “You don’t give up! You can’t give up! Trust me when I say the next will be better!”

You hum a doubtful note against the fabric of his shirt and push him towards the opposite end of the couch. “If you say so.”

“I know so,” he replies matter-of-factly, catching the antsy circles the chopsticks in Namjoon’s hand are drawing in the noodles left on his plate.

Just like that he begins to feel guilty. There’s something going on here, and he can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s no doubt in his mind that he truly walked in on something he wishes he hadn’t. They’ve all been waiting for him to make a move and now it’s possible that he’s trying. Today was a dud but one thing is certain: it would be so sad to see him lose you to a stranger because he’s too scared to elicit change. Namjoon isn’t going to outright ask him to leave, but it’s written all over his face. Maybe it’s time to let whatever developments have obviously been happening between you two continue.

With a loud sigh and stretch, Seokjin rises from the cushions and makes his way to the door. “Well, I think I’ve made my point. I should get going though. Don’t let this experience bother you too much.”

You spring from the couch and catch the door as he opens it. “I’m fine. Really.”

He shoots you a questioning look but you pull him into a quick hug that allays most of the tension within it. Namjoon unfolds his legs and stands as you exchange goodbyes with Seokjin and usher him out of your apartment with a tired smile.

The door finally closes with a dull thud. Your shoulders deflate with the air in your lungs as you turn the heavy deadbolt. Namjoon’s palms find purchase on the precipice of your shoulders, fingers dipping softly into the crevasse made by your collarbones. You melt back into his touch, throwing your head into his chest when the pleasurable chill of the massage works its way down your spine.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not that stressed. Really,” you weakly attempt to reason with him, silently wishing he’d never stop. A moan rumbles in your throat, making your brain go numb.

“I know,” he mumbles while continuing the controlled movements of his fingertips. “Fist of Fury sounding good?”

“Mmm, I was thinking about something with more comedy.”

“Way of the Dragon then?” he suggests, gently leading you towards the couch in a slow waddle.

“Please don’t make me watch it in English,” you groan, shuffling in time with his strides. “I don’t think I can take that dub again.”

“Fine, fine. Hold up.” He offers an amused smile as he pushes you towards the sofa as he searches for the DVD in question.

The loss of his touch leaves a chill in its wake and you instinctively pull on the fuzzy blanket scrunched into the gap between cushions. You drape it across your torso and bury your arms underneath just as Namjoon pops the DVD into the xbox below the television. He mindlessly grabs a controller, flicks the lightswitch, and shoves the nearby ottoman with his foot until it’s closing in on the sofa. You react before it can hit your shins.

As he flops onto the cushion beside you, the sensation of your legs brushing against each other has you leaning towards him with a shiver. The startup screen highlights his face as you lift the blanket, offering coverage despite feeling the heat radiating from his body. You just want to feel someone next to you. Much to your surprise, he accepts the offer and huddles in, pressing your bodies close together.

Quelling the shakiness of your exhale, you reach over to grab the controller from his lap. Instead the muscles of his thighs flex as your hand drags across them. You’re already apologizing as you jump in place, retracting your hand as quickly as possible while fumbling to look for the controller. He looks down at your hand and then back up to your face, silently pursing his lips as he drops the controller into your palm.

"Sorry," you mumble again as you navigate through the menus, not daring to peek over at his face.

"Don't worry about it," he whispers, sprawling an arm over the couch cushion behind you. His fingertips lazily tap against the contour of your shoulder, wishing that the t-shirt was smaller, thinner, something that could expose more of your skin beneath the blanket.

You fail to contain the deep inhale that causes your chest to rise and slowly breathe out the nerves constricting your lungs. As you start the movie and set the controller on the armrest, you turn your head to look at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he parrots back at you. The warmth of his leg presses into your thigh, serving as a reminder of the wetness between yours.

“About earlier, I…” you trail off, unable to finish the statement. The needy touch-starved thoughts haven’t yet worn off and you curse your brain for letting you taint your friendship with impure thoughts of the man beside you. How could you possibly tell him that you weren’t thinking clearly before when you still want him to touch you, when your pussy clenches any time he pushes his body against you? The familiar sound of the title music fills the silence.

“Don’t worry about it,” he repeats softly. “Let’s just… watch Bruce Lee, hmm?”

His words somehow simultaneously bring you comfort and disappointment. You smile and nod, shifting your attention back to the television, though you can feel the feathery touch of his fingertips flirting with the hem of your sleeve seconds later. As you shift in your seat to relax your head against him, that same touch trails up your shoulder to brush a mess of hair from your neck before settling comfortably in the space between them. You chuckle at the old woman staring down Bruce Lee as your eyelids grow heavy. There’s no way you were even going to make it five minutes in, but you attempt it anyway.

“She lookin’ at him like a snack.” You’re relying on your thirst to keep yourself awake. “I agree.”

Namjoon snorts. “She’s looking at him like she’s gonna call the cops. Are we watching the same movie?”

“My bad. I’m self-inserting for granny,” you murmur, voice growing wearier by the syllable.

“Are you already falling asleep? We can watch it another night if you’re tired.” You can feel his eyes boring into the top of your skull as your eyelashes flutter against his chest.

“No,” you argue weakly, not bothering to lift your head to meet his gaze.

“I can feel you closing your eyes.”

“No,” you say again with a slight shake of your head that doubles as an excuse to nuzzle into the warmth of his chest.

“So if I took my phone out right now and snapped a pic, your eyes wouldn’t be closed?”

“Nope.”

“Not nice to lie,” he teases softly, smoothing the hair back from your forehead.

“Shhh, don’t talk during movies. You’re missing the part with the soups.”

He cradles your head with a scoff, resisting the urge to impart a goodnight kiss to the top of it as you obviously doze off. Your arm falls into his lap with the sound of a dull ‘pat’. Immediately his hand carefully draws yours away from the danger zone and sets it loosely over his. The gentle twitch of your digits against his palm beckon him to lace your fingers together. Butterflies wrack their way through his stomach and he soon complies, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he does so.

Do you realize what you do to him? Probably not. Being here feels like walking a tightrope that he keeps wobbling back and forth on. But leaving would kill the adrenalin rush and leave him with nothing. He’d take the highwire any day if it meant there was a chance you could be waiting on the other side.

He’s determined to make it further into the movie, and he has every intention of nudging you awake, but not even five minutes later his eyelids droop and his neck bends back over the top cushion.

Just a few minutes. I’ll wake her up in a few minutes.

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The change in volume from the end credits to the top menu of the DVD catapults you from slumber. You groan as you crane your stiff neck up towards the open-mouthed, snoring man whose warm chest you’ve been napping on. The grin creeping across your face threatens to break into a giggle, but you muzzle the sound before it can leave your throat.

The haze of sleep still clouds your mind and as your eyes travel up the dark skin that stretches up to his jaw, empty cravings for intimacy permeate the fog. Your head lolls back down and you scrunch your cheek against the base of his throat with a shaky exhale before turning towards him. You skim your lips over the muscles in his neck, shivering at the thought of pressing down. Pushing away the growing urge to suction your mouth down on his flesh, you lightly tap the side of his cheek. “Joonie.”

He groans loudly as he lifts his head off the cushion, but offers no other words of acknowledgement. Discomfort spreads across his features, brow knotting as he palms the back of his sore neck. His other hand firmly wraps itself around your knuckles, subconsciously dragging your palm across his lap as he stretches his limbs out. Heavy arms come back down and constrict you in a sleepy hug; the comfort it brings threatens to take you back into the world of slumber, but you shake off the impulse to close your eyes again.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce softly against his white t-shirt, basking in the warmth of his embrace.

He peers down at you through dark, half-lidded eyes and struggles to bring a response to the forefront of his mind. You trace your fingers along the contours of his jaw, causing him to lean into your sleepy caress. Before you can register the movement, his lips graze the precipice of your forehead and your stomach lurches into a somersault at the sensation. Wait. Did he just...?

The bubble of his dream-state finally pops. Suddenly everything feels too real. His eyes widen and his heart drops, desperately wishing he could awaken from this moment panting and sweating within the confines of his bedroom. Is there a chance you’re not aware of his embarrassing mistake? He pulls back and the sharp sound of his lips smacking together awkwardly fills the room as the menu loop resets.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, abashed features straining to look anywhere else. “I’m gonna go.” He shifts uncomfortably, wriggling out from beneath your form, but your fingers reach out and curl around the solid mass of his forearm.

“Stay,” you whisper. “Please?”

You can’t fight the way your heart is pounding, desperate to feel the tickle of butterflies in your stomach at least one more time, to find your hand enveloped in his warm, comforting grasp. Deep, dark eyes settle on yours, searching for any excuse to decline such a tempting offer. When he comes up empty, you also find yourself at a loss for words and you shake your head, trying to come up with some explanation for the blurry lines you’ve been drawing all over your friendship with him.

You rationalize that it’s not crazy to find comfort in the arms of a good friend. How many times has Jennie kissed your forehead without meaning anything by it? How many times have you held hands with her and platonically snuggled up together? Is it really so different now that Namjoon is the one beside you?

Your mind flashes back to the moments leading up to Seokjin’s arrival. You were the one to guide him towards you. Your lips never touched, and you refuse to accept the fraction of your brain that screams of its disappointment. The fact that you got close enough to expose the possibility of Namjoon as a makeout partner is a thought you’re struggling to bury. That’s what makes him different. That’s what makes it difficult to let him leave.

You know it’s selfish, but there’s a shred of something that you can’t allow yourself to acknowledge. Until you fill the void of a relationship in your life, or sex at the very least, maybe this is exactly what you need. It’s harmless, really. Just a comforting snuggle buddy. It’s harmless... right? You ask yourself again, the echo of his heavy breaths fresh in your mind. The memory plays again: one hand clasps around his neck and pulls him down towards you, the other guiding him teasingly towards the lace of your bra as your noses brush against each other; it’s enough to set your cheeks on fire but not enough to retract the offer.

“Don’t leave. Please, just… Just lay with me again?” you plead quietly. Could you sound more pathetic? There’s never been a more appropriate time to wish you were built like a computer, or at least something you could flush the short term memory from, but here you are: painfully human and seeking complacency.

You keep your eyes fixed on him as you rise, his expression never falling into the expected air of pity. Shock. Confusion. Maybe even relief. But never the pity you anticipate. The television coats his features with a soft glow and your shoulders instinctively relax as his smile molds shadowed dimples along either side of his mouth. The word of affirmation that escapes him is barely audible over the sound of the tv.

The room grows dark and silent all too fast as you tap the power button on the back of the screen. Warmth radiates from his hand as it trails down your arm, finally twining itself between your fingers as he waits for you to lead the way. Of course he’s memorized the steps to your bedroom, but he’s not about to let impatience reveal the alacrity within.

It’s no trouble to navigate in the darkness and you find yourself needlessly tugging him closer. You’re quick to hide your own eagerness under the guise of fatigue, forcing a loud yawn from your mouth as you flop back into the center of the bed. He stumbles forward a bit before catching himself on the soft mattress, quietly climbing onto it as though the weight of his body will shatter its molecular structure.

Tonight the moon is blocked by the clouds in the sky, and the unusual pitch black nature of the room is a little unnerving. It’s easy to imagine shadows moving when you can’t see anything clearly. Before you can burden yourself with unnecessary anxiety, Namjoon’s palms are dipping into the mattress on either side of you, parallel to your waist. You can feel him ascending like a silent panther, closing in on his prey. Stale air hitches in your throat as he hovers above you, a delicately placed knee sinking into the space between your thighs.

The heat from his core sears shameful desire into the surface of your flesh and you attempt to close your legs. The inside of your soft thighs squeeze against the unexpected muscular mass of his, trapping him just below the wetness you’re refusing to acknowledge. It doesn’t take long for you to become keenly aware that if he leans any further up he will be wearing it and you press your legs even tighter together, despite knowing the barrier of muscle between them makes the task impossible.

Your palm reaches up to find his face, curling under his jaw to cup his chin in a playful venture to diffuse the tension in the air. It’s closer than you expect. There’s a strange relief in the realization that he can’t see the way your jaw falls open. That relief quickly dissipates when his plump lips press against the pad of your thumb, causing your sharp inhale to cut through the white noise of the fan nearby.

He laughs softly, breath hitting your skin in puffs as your fingernail scrapes against his upper lip. This position is not exactly ideal, considering the erection beginning to form in his boxers. With one leg trapped between your thighs and the other plunging into the mattress beside you, all it would take is one lazy dip of his pelvis to allow you to feel how you affect him.

“What are you doing?” You find your voice, but it sounds hoarse and foreign, and you make no effort to hide the accusation dripping from your own guilty lips.

“I…” His heart drops to his stomach. What is he doing? The more time that passes leaves the memory of you on the couch feeling increasingly surreal, like a cruel joke originating from a desperate imagination that he’s foolish enough to believe. He squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to think of something that will fix this mess. The rain pattering against the window is soothing and it tries to wash the awkwardness from the air, but it’s not enough.

Then a lightbulb goes off, and his hand is already gently bringing yours down to the mattress. His voice is even, despite the humiliation coursing through him. “I dropped your defenses.”

“You what…?” Before you can contemplate the meaning behind his words, his hand tightens around your wrist, pressing it into the soft mess of blankets beneath you with his full weight. You strain against his grip as he begins playfully jabbing at your waist with his free hand. You scrunch your hips towards your elbow as you swat fervently in the direction of his arm to no avail.

Strong, stubborn fingers poke and prod all of the sensitive spots he’d briefly had the pleasure to acquaint himself with. You do your best to keep the laughter from spilling out, but he isn’t satisfied by the restraint you’re showing. The noises he wrenched from you earlier had been so delicious and he’s desperate to pull more, so he dares to pinch his fingers at the tender crease in your skin between your thigh and hip.

You buck your hips and cry out at the sensation, the fabric of your shorts riding up just enough to grant his fingertips access to the outermost edge of your panties. His eyes roll into the back of his skull for a fraction of a second, reveling in his success. Your hand clamps down on his bicep, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. He would be hissing and backing off if not for the delectable sound of you stammering out a slew of pleases on repeat.

Are two fingers all it takes to make you beg me? He muses, pleased with the visual he’s created for himself in the darkness. He can feel his cock poking out from the hole in his boxers, sensitive head sliding against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“Joonie, please! I’m gonna--” A snort escapes the back of your throat and you choke back a gross fit of giggles as his fingers twitch against the cotton fringe beneath your shorts. “It’s too much!”

Those are definitely a string of phrases he’s going to file away for later. He licks his lips before loudly smacking them, enjoying the fact that you can’t see the devilish smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Really? ‘Cause, uh, I don’t feel a thing.”

His thumb and forefinger pinch against your flesh in that same sensitive area, ripping another uncontrollable cackle from you. Even in the darkness, it’s easy to tell that you’ve got tears in your eyes from the way you’re pleading with him. Your clammy fingers slide along the lean muscles in his bicep, tapping him repeatedly as though a referee will appear and save you from his relentless fingers. Your head falls back and you half-bury your face into a pillow to muffle the way you’re howling beneath him.

“Please, please, please,” you beg between pained wheezes, hopelessly bucking your hips up towards his. “I’ll do anything. Please. Please. Please. Please. Namjoon...”

He does his best to avoid your frenzied thrusts, dodging to the left and right to keep his now rock hard dick from touching any part of you. But the breathless way you’re pleading and panting against the pillows has him melting, daring him to grind his aching cock on your hips. His fingers slowly drag a delicate path away from the cotton he’d been trying to build the courage to do something more bold with. They trace invisible teasing lines downward and the abs hidden beneath your soft layers of flesh finally stop contracting. This time the final laugh that escapes you trails off into a breathy moan, body flaring with desire for more contact while simultaneously fatigued from twinging and fighting against his mischievous digits. Namjoon’s form lingers above you in the darkness with your crass groan refusing to leave his eardrums.

Hot breath fans the shell of your ear, his already deep voice somehow dropping an octave lower as the gravel in his throat fights the word bubbling out from it. “Anything...?”

Why does he keep doing that? It’s driving you insane. You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice take on this tone before tonight, even in jest, and it’s making your ears ring with how hard they’re now straining to take in more of that delicious, gruff whisper. You have no choice but to hold your breath to quiet the exhale that threatens to reveal the lust coating your thoughts.

Just as you’re certain he’s about to drop his weight onto your thigh and expose the wetness soaking through your shorts, Namjoon pulls his head back with a loud contented sigh, flopping down onto the mattress beside you. Maybe he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Can you blame him after all the mixed messages you’ve been sending? You’ve been filling pretty much every conversation with sexual tension lately; it makes sense that he would try to dish some back at you.

In your defense, Tinder hasn’t exactly been the fun, liberating experience you’d been promised by the app’s promotional messaging, and your frustrations are starting to become palpable. Even your vibrator can’t keep up with the rollercoaster highs of your sex drive right now. Poor Joon is just caught in the middle of a very, very bad drought and you’ll be damned if you let your friendship become a casualty of your desire for a little rain.

Coward. The thought reverberates against his skull hard enough to make him shake his head as he props himself up on one elbow.

“Help me hook my laptop to my TV so I can watch movies on the big screen,” he says, cutting through the self-loathing. Knowing you’re glaring at him in the dark, he pauses. “What? You said anything.”

“Just get a Firestick. They make those things specifically for people like you. I don’t need your incompetent ass calling me every time you can’t get it working.”

“You always gotta be rude about everything?” he tuts. “Besides, Firestick ain’t gonna help with what I want to do.”

The conversation allows you to forget the shame dripping out of you and you flip onto your side to more comfortably counter his point. “You can get every YouTube video on the planet on that thing. Not to mention Hulu, Netflix, PrimeVideo… Like, you can get anything you want to watch at the push of a few buttons. Well, everything except…” you trail off, the gears in your head spinning fast enough to come undone.

He swallows, knowing you’re about to call him out. “I don’t need a Firestick,” he reiterates.

Your cheeks flush. Porn. Of course it’s porn. Just another thought you don’t need floating around your head: Namjoon jerkin’ it to whatever weird shit he’s into. Honestly, you’re almost afraid to touch the laptop with how much he’s probably used it for that specific purpose.

“Of course not.” You sigh as your palm pushes him back against the bed, eager to just forget the night and feel the same way you did last week. “You’re gross.”

He huffs at the accusation, even though he admits to himself you’re completely right and doesn’t audibly argue the point. He also doesn’t fight the way you force him down, resting his head against a soft pillow as the weight of yours comes down onto his chest. Instinctually, his arm reaches around you, pulling you closer with his fingers tented against the small of your back. You shiver into his t-shirt, briefly catching the scent of his deodorant before closing your eyes.

“So, that’s a no then?” he asks dejectedly, voice rumbling up through the ear you’ve got pressed to his chest.

You chuckle into him as you nuzzle your face back and forth a few times, reveling in the way it feels to be in such a comfortable position with another person, even if it is Namjoon. “I guess I can do it since you’re indulging me right now... I won’t tell if you don’t?”

His fingertips move down your back to idly play with the band of your shorts, tracing lazy lines across them. You tense, taking all the self control you currently possess to stop from grinding your hips into his thigh.

He hums in response, finally resting his hand respectfully above the fabric of the t-shirt at your waist. “Okay,” he whispers.

You lay together in silence, listening to the increased assault of raindrops at your window. Normally with the fan going like this you’d be feeling chilly and be rushing to pull a blanket over you, but with the heat coming off of him in waves, you’re feeling rather warm, almost sweaty. It feels like the breath in your lungs isn’t enough and you take in a few deep, noticeable inhales and exhales. Your heart is pounding like you just ran some kind of incredible marathon.

“Y/N… You ok?” Even sleepy, you can still hear the concern dripping from his tone.

You take in a couple more hungry breaths. It almost feels like a panic attack sneaking up on you. But why now? You’re not even doing anything worth freaking out about. Is it the stress of the day? Is it the embarrassment?

“Yeah… Just...anxiety...” you manage to pant out weakly, your chest heaving frantically for more air. “I’m sorry."

He fishes for your hand in the darkness, turning his face down towards the top of your head to plant a small, innocent kiss there. “Shhh, shhh, I got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trembling fingers gripping his with a sense of urgency, like at a moment’s notice he’ll melt away and you’ll be left alone. “Don’t leave, okay?”

He twines his steady fingers between yours. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re okay. Try to breathe deeply. I’ll be right here.” He starts to inhale loudly, causing your head to rise with each deep fill of his lungs, and fall with his audible exhales.

Over the course of a few minutes, your breathing aligns with his, and you’re even holding at the same moments to help your body relax. When you seem stable, he wants to say something comforting, but simply gives your hand a gentle squeeze once he recognizes the soft snore leaving your mouth.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Joonie, did you clean your apartment before I came over?” you’re eyeing the spotless nature of his abode suspiciously. “Since when do you not throw your shirts wherever?”

He smiles, pleased with himself as he folds his arms and crosses the room before sinking into the couch. “Since you always complain about it.”

You stare him down incredulously. “It’s just… I’m shocked. It’s so unlike you.”

“What?” He scoffs. “Are you seriously gonna complain now that my place is clean?”

“Hmph. Where’s your laptop?” you question,

He pulls it from the folds in the couch cushion sheepishly. “Hold up.” He’s opening it and typing in the password as you flop down next to him.

“If you seriously left porn on here knowing I was coming over to do this, that’s on you. Gimme. I wanna see what fucked up shit Professor Kim gets off to.”

He tries to cover the screen, but you can still see the raunchy frozen frame beneath his splayed fingers. Your eyebrows raise, taking in the sight of a nude woman’s body straddling a well-endowed man on a black leather couch. It’s tough to push back the smile fighting through your pursed lips. “Couch cowgirl, huh?”

“You know…” He fumbles to close the tab and thrusts the computer into your lap, clearly embarrassed at the thought of you seeing any of that. “I don’t stand over your shoulder judging your porn choices.”

You shake your head and scoff. “What makes you so sure I watch porn?”

“I know you,” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh, beginning to navigate to the display settings. “I’m not judging. It’s just a little more tame than I was expecting.”

“You’re judging,” he declares finitely. “And what the hell are you expecting anyway? What kind of fucked up shit are you into, hmm?”

Your face flushes and you stop typing. He laughs. “See? Just that reaction there tells me you’re one hundred times worse than me. You’re just better at hiding your search history.”

You swallow hard and snap the laptop shut. “Joon, you knew I was coming over to do this today. You had all night to clear out your embarrassing stuff. It’s not my fault you’re a dumbass.”

He starts to quietly interject. “Actually, my IQ is--”

“I don’t care what your IQ is. You’re not goading me into telling you my porn preferences. I’m just here to help you get your laptop hooked up.”

“Is that why you’ve closed it?” he asks with a smirk.

You blink at him a few times. “N-No.”

He laughs again and you can feel your face burning, knowing that he’s pridefully drinking in the sight of your mistake. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to say a thing.” He leans in, closer than you expect and begins speaking in a low, gravelly whisper that freezes you in place. “I already know what you like.”

You do your best to keep your breathing steady, but it quickly turns into a sputtering mess when he cups your chin and trails his index finger down your neck, stopping just above your breast bone. With no effort at all, he guides you down with the press of his finger until you’re laying flat on your back. He steadies himself over you with a strong arm that sinks into the cushion beside your face, effectively boxing you in as he descends.

“You like it when I take control,” he announces, an unfamiliar confidence in his husky tone. “Don’t you?”

At this point, you know your jaw is trembling as it hangs stupidly open. Every word you can think of dies on your tongue as his free hand draws a line beneath your t-shirt, up your belly and teases the lace trim around one of your breasts. You shiver as he drags his fingertips back and forth in the valley between your tits, growing more and more desperate for him to reach beneath one of the cups and take you into his hand. Chest heaving, you turn your gaze away, hoping he will spare you the embarrassment of looking into his eyes with the hunger in yours.

“Yes,” you whisper weakly, knowing he’s got you. If Jimin has been teaching him how to play Chicken, he has taken it to the next level and it’s gone past the point where you think you’re able to willfully extricate yourself from the situation.

His hand shoots up from beneath your shirt to clasp your jaw, forcing your face back into position. “Look at me when you answer.“

You let a tiny moan slip at the rough contact and your eyelids flutter for a moment before meeting his gaze. His eyes are dark and eager, pupils blown out to the size of dinner plates, perfectly set to devour you. You need it now. You need him now.

“Yes…” you whimper. His hand drops like lightning down beneath your bra, molding as much of your tit as his strong grip can manage.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, clasping your arms around his neck and desperately bringing him down to meet your lips.

He moans into your mouth as he comes crashing down, greedily sucking the air from your lungs with every last taste he imparts. The hand that had been supporting his weight tangles itself in your hair as you buck your hips up into him, thirsty for more of whatever he’ll give you. The rocking passage of your hips causes him to mirror the motion, grinding his thigh deliciously up against your clit. You mouth falls open with the need to take in air at the sudden friction in your jeans. He uses the opportunity to slip his himself past the barrier of your teeth and deep into your mouth, gliding his tongue across the surface of your own.

While this has never been a thought that’s crossed your mind in the past, you can’t imagine not knowing his taste. And yet when you try to describe it and pin down his delectable nature, it slips away. Your lips crash harder around his, hopelessly searching for the moment that your thirst will be quenched and never finding it. You want him more than you ever thought possible, in any way possible. It’s like he’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time, flooding all of your senses with a ravenous need that refuses to fade, even as you drink him in again and again.

As he pinches a pebbled nipple between his fingers, you whine through a gasp and fight to bite at his bottom lip, sucking it through your teeth. You hold him in place long enough for him to prop himself up on the couch and move back. Like hell if you were going to let him have all the power.

“Please,” he groans through gritted teeth, sounding incredibly vulnerable. It’s like music to your ears. You drag your teeth over his lip slowly one last time before letting it snap back to him.

With an ease you’re not used to, you’re able to push him back and sit up, carefully untangling your legs and rising from the couch. He’s about to pull you back towards him when you point to the middle of the couch. “Sit there.”

His adam’s apple bobs a few times, dark hunger never leaving the spark in his eyes as he positions himself as instructed. Clasping the outside of his knees, you force them closer together as you straddle his lap. With your legs spread like this, you can smell how wet and ready your pussy is, so you know damn well that he can too. You should be embarrassed and hiding your face in shame. You should be, but you’re not.

Your fingers knot themselves in his hair as you slowly roll your hips across his lap. Your voice is low and husky, filled with messy impatience. You’re ready to fall apart at his hands if he’d let you, but first you want him to know how it feels. “Is this how you like it, Namjoon? Is this what you want?”

A sharp inhale gives you your answer, but you continue to roll your hips just above his lap, hoping to elicit an erection. He groans as he buries his face into your neck, sliding his hot tongue over a particularly sensitive area and latching himself on. You realize you’re going to buckle quickly under the ecstasy you’re not used to feeling. Feeling reckless and bold, you reach down into his sweatpants, grasping for the cock you know has to be rock solid at this point.

Your hand clumsily slides against the gray band at his waist, unable to even clutch the drawstrings in your haste. The harder you try, the more your fingers seem to tangle in them. Soon you find yourself trapped, unable to move your hands away from the gray material they’ve become encased within. Using the brunt of your shoulder, you force Namjoon off your neck and much to your horror the laughter spilling out of him becomes squeaky like a windshield wiper.

“Wooow!” Jin’s disappointed voice has you breaking out in a cold sweat, frozen as you take in the broad shoulders dressed in Namjoon’s clothes before you. “Are my eyes deceitful like you? How many times have I asked if you had feelings for him? And now I catch you like this? What do you mean, none? I’m sure I asked at least once!”

As you shake the hair from your eyes and try to break free, the horror intensifies as the man before you morphs into a giggling Hoseok.

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. Dirty girl,” he chides, bringing his arms around your neck. “How long has it been? Have you forgotten how? I can help you remember if you want.”

You shut your eyes, trying to wish the temptuous voice away, but when you open them it’s now Jungkook staring at you, cackling. “Showing him your tits wasn’t enough, noona? You want him to touch you too?”

He tuts as he leans forward, and you begin to slide from his lap, which seems to be growing larger and steeper by the second. You’re desperately trying to get your hands free so you don’t fall, but it’s no use; you can feel yourself slipping away.

“Oh, are you stuck?” His obnoxious guffaw echoes into the darkness encroaching the apartment. “Well, since I’m a nice guy, let me help you with that. I’m really good with straps.”

He stands and you feel yourself fall, but he catches you by your bound hands, causing your elbows to knock against your head. You feel about 2 feet tall in his clutches as he suspends you in the air with one hand. The other starts pulling on the tangle of gray drawstrings, causing your body to twist in his grasp. With a sharp tug, he has you completely unraveling in a dizzy haze. You clamp your eyes shut again to avoid the vertigo jeopardizing the stability of your stomach contents.

You hang in Jungkook’s grasp, his cackle reverberating through your skull as you feel a gentle breeze caressing your body. As you open your eyes and look down, you realize you’re completely naked, and as you fight against his hold, your body spins. You’re face to face with Taehyung, his eyes cold and calculating as they roam across your body, searching for imperfections. He cocks his head to the side, wearing an expression of granite as his eyes slowly, painfully ascend your exposed flesh.

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a boxy smile. “Wow. I’m glad we kept your clothes on.”

As you recover from the sting of his words, you fight against Jungkook’s grasp and attempt to swipe at Taehyung’s gorgeous face. As he leans back, his visage morphs into Yoongi, who stands there looking perplexed by your current predicament.

“Hobi’s right. You are easy, aren’t you?” He quirks an eyebrow and turns away, his form evaporating into the darkness.

Again you fight against the man holding you in place. This time you fall, but you land softly against a couch cushion with the cheshire grin of Jimin looming over you.

“Oh, Y/N… You went home with Namjoon-hyung, hmm? I thought you liked me?” His smile quickly falls into a rare scowl, all traces of mirth absent in his stone gaze. The jealous venom biting in his tone causes you to wince. “It’s fine. I have better options.”

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes and allowing the tears to fall, attempting to descend further into the cushion.

Your body congeals into the cushion, slowly melting through it and sending you hurling into the darkness. Your knees hit a hard surface with a loud crack, but it doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts like the words in your head. You know they’re right.

A spotlight appears over you, drawing attention to your lack of clothing and you clutch your knees to your chest to cover yourself as best you can. As you look around for an exit, you notice a mirror running along the wall behind you, taller than you can even fathom. Quick to disregard the sight of yourself, you turn around and there’s another one waiting ahead of you. Glancing around the room again yields dozens and dozens of mirrors in every direction. There’s nowhere you can even pretend to hide.

So you stand, tears stinging your eyes from the heartbreak of the truths you keep telling yourself. You shuffle over to the nearest mirror, feeling like your feet are sinking into sand and unable to fully rise with each step. Your reflection stares back at you: tired, cold, tear-stricken. You exhale and shove at the glass, unhappy with the person you see staring back at you. Instead of shattering or at least cracking like you expect, the glass bends in and bounces back, forcefully sending you into the mirror behind you. Your back lands against the hard surface and you slide down, allowing yourself to just sit and cry.

As you hug your knees close to your chest again, a fuzzy warmth envelops you. Clutching at the soft blanket that covers your body, you look up to see Namjoon’s dimpled smile starting back at you. He lowers himself to his knees and embraces you from behind, arms cradling you, lulling you into a place of comfort. It’s only when you stare ahead again that you can see the smile now gracing your own features.

He always finds a way to help, doesn’t he? With a contented sigh, you turn your body to gently bring your lips to meet his. The warmth of his body floods yours once more.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You awaken to your lips pressed against something hard. Your eyelids flutter a few times and you can just barely make out the shape of Namjoon’s arm pressing into your cheek. You must have rolled away from him in your sleep. Thank God. The sweat that trickles down your neck somehow runs cold and you shiver, tugging at the blanket covering your shoulders that was definitely not there when you closed your eyes. With a few deep breaths, you attempt to calm your heartbeat. You’re in your room. None of that was real. You’re safe.

Gently wiping your saliva from his forearm, you carefully shift your weight and turn your body to face him. Thankfully, he appears to still be sleeping, half tucked beneath the same blanket. What do you know? Even the human heater must get chilly sometimes.

Your heart still pounds wildly against your ribcage; it’s so loud that you’re almost afraid the sound will rouse him from slumber, but he lays peacefully beside you. There’s a hint of moonlight breaking through the clouds, and it casts just enough light to illustrate how angelic his features look while reposed. With the dream still fresh in your mind, you feel the need to reach out and make sure this is real. 

Your hand gently glides through his hair before cupping his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. You catch yourself wondering how you might explain the action, should he awaken at this moment. For now, all that matters is the tranquility the subtle movement provides; it coaxes you into security. As your heartbeat calms, you rest your head on his chest. There’s a dull thumping that you can feel beneath your palm and you swear time stills as you lose yourself in its soothing cadence. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sunshine can’t seem to clear the clouds enough to illuminate the room. It still feels like it could be too early to rise, but the sound of birds chirping over the soft patter of rain lets you know that it’s later than you might believe. You blink a few times, irritated that you’re rising at all on a Saturday morning when you could be sleeping the day away. It’s not like you have anything planned. As you stretch your spine straight up, a pair of lean, muscular arms constrict your chest and waist, lazily pulling you back into a prime spooning position. 

You lightly massage the pair of forearms pinning you in place with oblivious fingertips. That’s right. Joonie’s still here.

He’s careful to keep your form from his pelvis, knowing that it wouldn’t take much for you to feel the stiff bulge tucked into the band of his sweatpants. Whatever alternate dimension he’d stumbled into last night had given plenty of fuel for his fantasies: your moans, your touch, and kiss you had nearly shared. 

But with the gray fragments of daybreak twinkling through the blinds, reality has to kick in at some point. He knows there’s no way you would pass up the opportunity to make fun of him should you feel even the tip at your back. Now’s not the time to tempt the luck of the universe, not when he has you like this.

You do your best to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks as you settle in, lacing your fingers with a firm squeeze to his. He lifts his head and sleepily sets it in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning the surface of your skin and giving you new chills with each exhale. "Morning, Geeksquad."

You hum in response, leaning back into the sensation. He breathes deeply, taking in the subtle mingling scents that linger on your form: the hint of lilac conditioner in your hair, the traces of moisturizer on your skin, the remnants of perfume spritzed some time ago, and the fragrance he can’t place as anything other than “you.” He could stay here for hours just breathing you in, trying to figure it out, but any description would fall short of capturing its perfection.

The tickle of his breath at your neck causes to you shake your head against the pillow a few times, attempting to hide the smile curling the corners of your mouth. You’re content with the scene staying as it is and you’re almost relaxed enough to drift back to sleep when the ceiling above you allows the first long creak to break through the quiet of your bedroom. Then another. And another. Soon there’s a steady familiar squeaking of the bed frame in the apartment above. An awkward silence falls between you both, but quickly fills with a rhythmic squeaking.

It was too much to hope that the noisy neighbors could put off their sexcapades until you weren’t in a compromising position with a friend. You side-eye the light fixture above you as it rattles in time with the sound of the headboard now hitting the wall. You know from experience that the noises will dull in time, but it doesn’t make right now any better.

Just as you’re about to say something, there’s a slew of loud “yes”es that cut through the room. Not daring to look back at Namjoon now, you scrunch your face into a grimace and silently pray for the bed to fall through the ceiling and crush you. Neither of you are willing to say anything, either embarrassed or enthralled by the lewd visions plaguing you as a result of the sounds above.

While you can't recall the most recent dream to grace your subconscious, an encore of the previous one pervades your thoughts. The image of Namjoon feeling you up as you make out like a couple of horny teenagers has you squeezing your thighs together and tensing your body against him. 

Desire charts a course from your brain straight down to your pussy, the noises descending from the ceiling only serving to heighten the fantasy. The thought of him cupping your tits and pulling you back into his chest creeps into your mind with every second you spend tucked beneath his arms.

You bite your lip and stretch again, this time purposefully nudging your ass into him with a forced yawn. Even through a heavy knit layer of cotton, you feel the hard shape that butts up against you. A soft, sleepy groan croaks out from the base of his throat, which only allows the perverse reverie to further take over. 

Dropping his forehead against you, a heavy, tight-lipped grumble sends vibrations up your neck. This, combined with the creaking bed frame and muffled moans from above, sends a hot, prickly wave of adrenaline surging through you. A restrained puff of air forces its way through his nostrils as his nose sweeps against the sensitive spot at the base of your neck.

Your pussy clenches at the sound of his weakness, like the gravitational pull of your soaking cunt can draw in his cock if those muscles deep inside can contract hard enough. You're hyper aware of the way your shorts are riding up, removing that extra barrier between you both, but you're too worked up at this point to care. 

You reach back, wordlessly carding your fingers through his hair. The action elicits another faint moan into the flesh of your neck, sending the high of your adrenalin to new heights. Silent, jagged breaths wrack the outline of your chest as he tightens his arm's hold on your waist. 

He makes a fist to keep himself from grabbing your hips, knuckles trembling against your belly and clearly struggling to keep things PG. But you're not having it, not after the dreams that have plagued you and the filthy things running through your mind. Hoping to lure another lewd sound from him, you wiggle your hips and shimmy your shoulders to provide the cover that perhaps you're trying to get comfortable. His fist opens and desperate fingers sink into the flesh beneath your t-shirt.

It's not a request, but a harsh demand in the form of a whisper against the shell of your ear that leaves you absolutely quaking beneath him. "You don't want to keep doing that."

The subdued whimper crawling up your throat nearly dies behind pursed lips before transforming into a pleased hum. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own, rising to challenge what may or may not be a bluff, and slowly grind back into the erection firmly planted at your backside. You're too enticed by the possibility of a gratifying answer to stop the word falling from your mouth. "Why?"

That definitely came out brattier than intended. A swarm of angry butterflies pump their way through your system. Their fluttering clogs the path to your brain that tends to lean towards subtlety. Dull fingernails dig into the skin at your hip and shoulder tight enough to leave marks. His hips thrust forward for the first time, slowly dragging the mass of his cock up your ass and then back down in delicious, languid strokes.

You hold back the moan building in your throat and a sharp sigh chokes its way past your lips instead. The subsequent needy, ragged inhales fill the space around you. Your back arches while your hips remain in place, causing your chest to rise as you knot your fingers in his hair. When you throw your head back and close your eyes, he bites his lip to quell the urge to pepper kisses along your exposed neck. His restraint is admirable, but the toll it takes on him is palpable at this point.

“I think you know why,” he accuses in a low whisper, dropping his forehead against you again and halting the stroke of his hips.

“I won’t tell… if you don’t,” you promise, your chest about ready to cave in on itself from the amount of pressure his arm is now squeezing into it.

Feeling brave, you offer one more subtle roll of your hips, tempting him to follow the provocative pattern. Now he’s the one who tenses. He’s still, holding his breath for just a moment in disbelief as the dull sound of the lovers above cut through the air. Then you feel the sliding of his palm across your abdomen and a greedy exhale at your ear. Fingers dig into your flesh, holding you in place as he answers your unspoken question with gentle rock of his hips. You respond with hungry need, clasping your hands over both of his as the rhythm of your bodies begin to sync.

He lets you lead the campaign to your mutual destruction. If this is hell then he’s happy to be the fiery tide at the back of a devil disguised as a moon goddess. His hips ebb and flow against whatever pace you set as you listen to the lovers upstairs and soon you find yourself wishing for more. You feel as though at any given moment his cock is going to spring free and rub against the meat of your ass-- and you're ashamed to admit that you couldn't be more turned on by the thought. 

His fingers start to tease the band of your shorts as he rocks himself against your ass, savoring the way you’re panting. He slows his pace without realizing as he drifts into his own fucked-out daydream. It becomes clear you’re at his mercy when you whimper his name at his unintentionally lazy thrusts. The tides have turned.

You’re definitely about to say something you might regret --as if you didn’t have enough of that going on already. Your dripping cunt urges you to beg, to plead with him to go farther. You’ll set up as much porn on his TV as he wants. But right now, you want to be touched so badly you feel like you’re going to explode. “Please.”

What he wouldn’t give to hear you say that again. He hooks a finger beneath the fabric at your waist and dips his tongue out to wet his lips, which deliberately skims your neck. This time you moan and he finds himself echoing the sentiment as he decides he’s going to take his time with you and pull out as many “please”s as you’ll give him. 

You jump when your cellphone’s ringtone cuts through the room. He holds back the sob building in his throat, leaving only choked air in its wake. It’s suddenly clear to you that the only other sounds in the room are both of your labored breaths. You strain to reach out towards the nightstand and Namjoon’s arms reluctantly give way to your movement. He immediately rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling in disbelief as you fumble to swipe at the screen.

“Why do you do this to me?” he whispers to himself, and rolls away from you to contemplate the meaning of life.

“H-Hello?”

“What uuuuup, bitch." Jennie’s voice is loud and carries through the receiver even though the volume isn’t at its highest setting. 

You wince, trying to shake the lingering nerves from your voice. “Heeeeey, Jennie.” You stumble through a few incoherent syllables. “A-Are you back?”

“You sound guilty. What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything, Jennie,” you scoff.

“Doesn’t sound like it. Oh, did you go have a rebound bang after that shitty date yesterday?” she asks excitedly.

“What? No! I was just minding my own business. Relaxing.” You swallow, sparing a glance at Namjoon. “Alone.” 

He raises his eyebrows at you and your roll your eyes, mouthing the word ‘what.’

“Okay, okay! I got it. I don’t need to hear about how great your vibrator is again. I get actual sex from actual real people, Y/N.”

Your mouth falls open and you cringe at her statement, tearing your eyes off of Namjoon’s giggling form. He folds his arm over his face to hide his laughter, but from the corner of your eye you can still see his body convulsing.

“You know what!” You shriek, rising from the bed and scurrying out of the room as fast as possible. “I don’t need this. Is there a reason you called?”

“Obviously you don’t check your email. I’m on my way back but Taehyung stopped by and asked me to retouch those photos he took.”

“Taehyung drove all the way there to ask you that?”

“He was apparently out this way for a gallery or something. I don’t know. He stopped by with a flash drive and asked me to work my magic aaaand ta-daaa. Well. Open your email. It works better if you can actually see what I’m ta-daing about.”

You swallow, putting her on speaker as you open the mail icon on your phone. Sure enough, there’s an email from Jennie with several attachments. Your eyes skim along the text in the body of the email and settle on the photos below. Holy shit.

“Well? What do you think? Pretty good right? I mean I haven’t touched them all but Tae and I picked out what we thought were the best of the best for your profile. He liked the artsier looking ones, but I said hey man, sex sells. And it does, Y/N. So sell that shit. Put em up, get some matches! Oh and don’t worry I didn’t use any liquify shit to make you look thinner or anything. I just focused on accentuating your natural beauty and fixing the lighting with some adjustments to levels and curves, maybe a few color balance filters. Honestly though, Tae knows what he’s doing with a camera and I didn’t have to do much for most of them. Some cropping and smoothing out wrinkles in the backdrop to make it look more like a real beach. Adding some plants in places for dimension.”

You stand there staring at the photos, quietly taking in just how gorgeous the pair have made you look in each one. “Honestly they look so good. But this is so much work for my stupid profile,” you mumble as you scroll through, admiring the images that you still can’t believe are you.

“Y/N, sweetie. I love you. You’re a catch and I can’t wait to see you find the person who will appreciate and love you even half as much as I do. But you need to get laid. Badly. Right now you’d probably fuck anything that moves. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you banged that meathead Jungkook. Even though we both know he’s a fuckboy. Totally pump-and-dump type. One hundred percent not boyfriend material. Not even worth the trouble of a fuck, honestly. But you know we on about those arms… I’m pretty sure he’s the only person we know that could actually do your fantasy of being fucked against a wall and, like, not even be tired from holding you up...” she trails off, lost in her own thoughts. 

The words don’t embarrass you, even if Namjoon can hear them; you’re too distracted to find yourself even remotely fazed. You’re too lost in the work they’ve presented here, too shocked to say much of anything because of how excellent a job they’ve done. Can this really be you? Is this what you look like on a good day?

Namjoon listens in, taking this opportunity to inspect his own arms. He flexes the scrawny muscle in his bicep, trying to will it to grow bigger with a glare. His head snaps up. Your fantasy. She said ‘your fantasy.’ Is that really what you like? 

He looks back down at his muscles, entertaining the possibility of such a scenario. It seems challenging, but not impossible, considering he’d half-carried you up three flights of stairs not too long ago. Then again, that’s a little different than holding someone up while thrusting into them and not giving a sloppy performance. What a fucking thought. Restraining the urge to palm himself over his sweats, he brings a curled finger to his lips in contemplation while eavesdropping on the rest of the conversation you don’t seem interested in hiding.

“And because you fucking suck at selling yourself, this is the easiest way to you get there. You get the sex out of your system and then you find mister right --or misses right; I don’t judge!”

You sigh, knowing she’s the one with experience. Jennie has a new prospect every week, but she knows how to utilize others’ infatuation to her advantage, get what she wants, and discard them as she sees fit. And she does it so effortlessly that you can’t help but envy her. She would know better than you could ever hope to.

“Thank you, Jennie. Really. I-I’m so grateful. Just… thank you. I’ll put these up and see if I get any hits.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Y/N. It’s no big deal. Dudes are gonna be lining up to get in that pussy, babe. Don’t even worry ‘bout it, ‘kay? Love you bitch.”

“Love you…” The call ends and you wander thoughtlessly back into the bedroom.

Namjoon’s shit eating grin says everything that he doesn’t, but you settle into bed beside him and choose to ignore the look he’s giving you in favor of scrolling through the images again, completely disregarding the way you two were previously dry-humping to the sounds of your neighbors going at it. Namjoon’s frustrated sigh lets you know he hasn’t forgotten.

“Apparently Taehyung and Jennie worked on these together,” you say, pulling up the first one to show him. “Do you…” You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy and you nervously on your earlobe. “Do you think this is okay? Like am I lying to people if I put these up? I feel like they’re too good. I feel like they’ll expect this all the time and I don’t think that’s really fair.”

Namjoon’s eyes soften as he takes the phone from your palm. He licks his lips as he scans the details in the photo: the curve of your smile, the sweetness in your eyes, the way your head coyly rests upon your shoulder. You’re beautiful, as always. Makeup doesn’t really change that. But your smile radiates positivity and light in this particular instance; you’re practically glowing.

You twiddle your fingers together as you wait for the verdict, unable to read his stoic expression. “Well?”

His eyes roam from your face down to the photo a few times and he cracks a smile. “I think you need to stop worrying. I don’t see a difference.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you think I look too… good there?”

He mirrors your confused expression. “I think you look as good as you always do.” He catches himself when your confusion turns into bashfulness. “You know, for a nerd.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at the short lived compliment before propping your head up on his chest. Your finger pokes the screen, swiping across the images one by one and taking some time to review them with him. Not a single insult passes his lips. There’s nothing but praise spilling from him, finding something unique and genuine to compliment you on with each photo. He must sense your insecurity because he pauses each time and reminds you that he’s not being paid to say nice things. You silently thank him for at least trying to build you up. Surprisingly, it helps.

“I guess I’m using them then,” you sigh in defeat, rolling away from him as you take the phone back. You’re already downloading the photos so you can set them to your profile.

Namjoon rises at the opportunity, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of you actually finding someone. Because Jennie is right. With photos that actually do your beauty justice, people will be flocking to you in droves. It seems too real now that you’re eagerly putting them on there. “Tinder won’t know what hit ‘em,” he says dejectedly. 

You’re too distracted to properly catch the disappointment in his tone. “I hope so.”

“Hey... I’m gonna go, Geeksquad. I just remembered I made plans with some of the guys and I want to make sure I run all my errands ahead of time.”

You hum a note of approval and almost miss the way his face twists in anxiety because as you look up, he transforms his stress into a soft smile. Still, you see just enough to know you’re being a rude bitch right now and it’s bothering him.

“I’m sorry.” You drop the phone and cross the room, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you for staying with me, Joonie. I… really appreciate you. I’m a mess and you always take care of me. So thank you. For real.”

“I know, Geeksquad.” He strokes your head a couple times before taking a few steps back. It hurts too much to say what’s on his mind. 

“And, um… before Jennie called I…” You lock eyes and you mouth the words you wish to say, but they don’t come as you want them to, “just got caught in the moment. I’m sorry.”

He blinks at you a few times before vigorously nodding. “Yeah.” He clears his throat after hearing the crack in his own voice, bringing it a few octaves deeper to protect his ego. “Yeah, uh, me too. Don’t even worry about it, okay? I’ll, uh, I’ll text you when I know what we’re doing.”

You nod enthusiastically, a grin spreading across your face. “Okay!”

With that, he disappears and you hear the unlocking of your door and the soft click when it closes behind him. Picking your phone up from the bed, you struggle with setting the order of the photos. You save and resave different combinations for about 10 minutes until a notification blocks your screen. You’ve got a match.

[haylanmakesstuff]

Day 1 & 2 of my 21 day Skeksis Costume Build

I usually work as a seasonal Interpretive Ranger for outdoor agencies, like National Parks and Forests, and last year when I got back from working all the way across the country from my home, I had less than a month to pull a Halloween costume off! I always make my costumes from scratch (except things like shoes, but I often alter them, etc.)

I wasted about a week of my time debating what I should do. I had a few ideas but I wasn’t crazy about them. I often feel like I need to be CRAZY excited about whatever I make. When I didn’t work during the summers out of state, I would often start my costumes any time between late June and early August depending on how ambitious it was. Now I had less than a month!

I had been watching The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance and was thinking about how since I was a little kid I’ve always wanted to make a Skesis costume. Then I realized – I didn’t have a job or anywhere to be until school started, so why not go nuts and make one in just 21 days? I did just that. I took pictures along the way to be able to show how I did it…now welcome to the first post detailing the experience!

Also, I had posted about this costume on a Halloween Costume Club I used to run as a Facebook group and actually had people being jerks about it. I am not here for your negativity. I am here to share my process and love of crafting with others, and I am happy to answer questions, too. No, you don’t have to make this costume or anything in just 21 days, even I would usually start months in advance and only work on it intermittently for a better product, I just didn’t have that option in 2019. But please, I’m here to share the happiness of crafting, not to hear how stupid you think my hobbies are. 

First, the end game:

Now, let’s back up 21 days and start from the beginning. I kept a calendar with notes on what I worked on because I eventually wanted to go back and make this post. Currently (July 2020) I am updating the costume for a second Halloween (if that happens during this pandemic) and those updates will be the last post of this series. Enjoy!

DAY 1: OCTOBER 10TH

Today I worked on the head/face, and eyes. Go big or go home, because if I couldn’t make the most important part of the costume, then the rest is cancelled.  I first gathered a bunch of screen shots of Chamberlain from the new Netflix show, googled images of the character, the puppet, and models. I started the head and completed that process before I realized I liked Skekso’s character design WAY more than The Chamberlain. And I had seen Chamberlain done several times before online and realized I wanted to take on a new challenge. That’s why you’ll notice the head shape is that of Chamberlain and not of The Emperor.  That morning I went to craft stores and hardware stores and got the stuff I would need to start off. This would mean many trips to these places, and since I live in a partially rural area, it’s a drive for me so I try to limit these visits so I don’t waste all my creating time driving. You’ll see each material listed as we go along.

First, here is Skekso, The Emperor from Dark Crystal; Age of Resistance, so you know what he looks like from the source material. If you haven’t seen this show, obviously I would recommend it, and would tell you start with the show, not the movie from the early 80’s, because the show is a prequel. I think to new viewers the movie may be more exciting if you see some of the back story on why it’s happening.

So now to the build:  

1.)    I started with plastic craft mesh in white to make a skull shape:

 I used a paper pattern so my sized would line up correctly, etc. You’ll notice I’m not only terrible at math, but I absolutely hate it. Not a great quality for a Maker and I have to compensate A LOT for my lack of math love and skills. I missed a lot of school growing up and never actually learned stuff like long division until college, so….make do! Our weaknesses and flaws won’t end us, we just find a way around them.

2.)    Once I got the plastic mesh pieces the right shapes, I glued them together with hot glue, very carefully.  I cut out a spot for the eyes making sure the future-eyes that were still ping pong balls fit snuggly. Notice all of my shopping and material decisions are heavily reliant on being light weight – I’m only 5’2 and not very strong, I knew I couldn’t pack a 50 pound costume around all night. I can keep my carry-on bags under 20 pounds usually, so I was confident in tricking this costume to be as light as possible.

3.)    Next, I used upholstery foam from the craft store (look in the furniture/upholstery section) to coat the mesh skull with without any contours, etc. That will all come later. I also made my favorite 3 ingredient pumpkin cookies that are the BOMB. Let me know if you want the very short recipe.

4.)    After I had all the basic forms of foam where I needed them and hot glued on, I started carving out the foam into the various shapes and valleys to look like Skekso. This took a long time and make a crazy mess, so beware if you have pets, roommates, or husbands – you’ll owe them some of those cookies to put up with your bull.

5.)    Then, I started on the eyeballs. Keeping it lightweight, I used regular old ping pong balls.

In the background, to the left of this picture, you’ll see a yellowish-hand. During this time I was also making a Halloween Decoration/Party Decoration; a full size Dementor from Harry Potter, for my yard for the month of October, and for November when I have an annual Hogwarts Feast; both of which I will showcase on here later! I liked these hands so much I ended up adapting a fancier version for this Skekso costume, so more on that later.

  DAY 2: OCTOBER 11TH

                       Face, teeth, eyes, and head dress.

1.)    Today I continued painting the eye balls, giving a base coat of off white, painting the iris and pupil, and veins. I used acrylic for all of this, but dipped the reds and pinks in water before using tiny brushes and toothpick points to create the veins. I actually glued a part of a wooden skewer (thicker than a toothpick) short, maybe 1.4 inches at most, to the back of the eyeball so I would always have something to hold onto without messing up the paint job. I figured this would be handy when gluing it into the head later, and it was.

I also continued the carving of the foam on the head from yesterday, finally getting it where I wanted it, ready for the next stage.

2.)    Next, I drew dark spots of different sizes on the jaws of the head to see how many of what size teeth I wanted Skekso to have. I used a picture as reference and got it as close as I could. Counted how many large, medium, and small teeth there were, so I knew how many to make.

Then, clearly, it was important that I sang him a little song of encouragement. It could be reenacting that scene from Alien 4 that’s so darned sad too, hard to say.

Now I know what you are wondering: What the heck am I wearing on my head? No, I don’t have a mushy skull like a bitty baby, I’m actually preparing myself to get used to the helmet that will be used for the costume later. I am not sure how heavy it will be, so I want to get used to the bike helmet, and you’ll see later I slowly add some weight to it. Yeah, I look kinda crazy, but at least I got to do it in my own home. And I am not superhero Christine McConnell – I never dress in anything but slouchy pajamas for the most part if I’m heavy into a crafting project. I want comfort and not to ruin everything I own because shit gets messy! 

3.)    Now that I know how many and what sizes teeth I need, time to make them. I bought a shit ton of Crayola Modeling Magic for this costume because it’s lightweight and I am used to using it. I used only white, mold it how I want it, then it dries for at least 24 hours for these little teeth. Anything bigger will add time – you’ll see more made of this later. Here are the little teeth on a pretty platter to dry:

4.)    Now time for more work on the head: I painted the mesh inside of the mouth black so it couldn’t be seen once the head is done. The mouth will be slightly open so you can see the teeth. If I had more time, I would have made a tongue, to.

5.)    First unexpected fix: when working on the head I noticed I didn’t like how wide part of it was, between the eyes. The head already is Chamberlains head shape instead of The Emperor, so I used a stitch through the middle to pull in the eyes, making the bridge of the nose narrower.

   That’s all for today! And it was a lot. Come back for more posts about my journey through the Cliffs of Insanity to build this Skeksis costume in 21 days. Happy Halloween All Year!

[neoduskcomics]

Ranking All 10 Star Wars Movies

The final installment in the Skywalker Saga (as it is now retroactively being christened) is upon us, and so I’ve decided to do a bit of a retrospective on all the films leading us here.

The purpose of this personal ranking is not to put down any particular films or to invalidate anyone else’s opinions. In fact, I will be focusing largely on what I like about each movie, rather than what I think was wrong with it. I’ll still touch on criticisms of each film, but know that even if I don’t think they’re all objectively amazing films, I still like every single one of them, and have watched each one numerous times.

The fandom, as it always has been, is so weighed down with hatred and lashing out and segregation, that it overshadows the unabashed joy and love that many still hold for that galaxy far, far away. And so, I’d like to put that anger away for a second, and just talk about why each of these movies holds a special place in the Star Wars saga.

10. The Phantom Menace

Chronologically the first film in the series, and also the first on this list. I saw this movie when I was pretty little, and I have to say, it’s the first Star Wars film I ever saw that I actually enjoyed. When I was a kid, I never cared for the original trilogy. Those movies bored and, to be honest, kind of frightened me. But Phantom Menace was replete with colorful visuals, whacky humor and loads of CGI action. That appealed to me quite a lot.

Yes, in retrospect, the plot is contrived, the characters are incredibly bland and pacing is all over the place, but it was my gateway drug into the magic that the rest of the franchise had to offer. And I’m gonna say it -- Jar Jar Binks was probably half the reason the movie kept my attention for as long as it did. All the other characters were so stuffy and stoic, and all they talked about was an overly complicated plot of political intrigue; Jar Jar added some much needed humor and levity for my childhood self to stay interested. It’s heavily flawed for sure, but I can’t rag on this movie too much when I have it to thank for the love that I have for the series now. Besides, Darth Maul kicks ass, right?

9. Attack of the Clones

Is it controversial to rank this above The Phantom Menace? My reasoning is twofold: 1) The movie has an actual emotional throughline to follow, that of Anakin being frustrated with his feelings of fear, resentment and love; and 2) There’s a lot more action. The Phantom Menace was my first step into the shallow side of the Star Wars pool, but this movie is what got me to dive in headfirst.

Is the dialogue embarrassingly terrible? Yes. Is it 75% CGI fluff? Yes. And as a kid, I ate all that stuff up. Plus, honestly, the movie’s not all bad. People started liking Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan with this movie, as the charming, dry-humored, slightly exasperated mentor. We got a load of lightsaber fights, and chases through cityscapes and asteroid fields. There was a ton to think was cool about this movie. Sure, it’s still messy and awkward, and it’s loaded to the brim with outbursts of teenage angst, but this is the film that really got me to think lightsabers, starships and bounty hunters were just the most awesome things ever. You can bet I had a few specific items on my Christmas list that year.

8. Solo

I saw Solo a second time this year, and on a re-watch, I actually enjoyed it quite a lot more. It’s fun and frantically paced, there’s loads of Star Wars fanservice, and the lead actor actually does a pretty good impersonation of a young Han Solo. The supporting cast is pretty likable, too, and the dialogue is always snappy. The action sequences were exciting, and while the movie does go out of its way to try to answer every single question about Han-related trivia, I still think it’s fun to see how things unfolded.

Sure, the movie is pretty hollow when it comes to its themes. Han doesn’t get a very solid character arc in the movie, and we definitely don’t see a very cohesive transformation from relatively altruistic kid to completely self-centered nerf-herder -- and that’s a real shame. But honestly, as a Star Wars side story and blockbuster action film, I think it’s a pretty solid couple hours of entertainment. If you shrugged this movie off when it came out or weren’t impressed and haven’t seen it since, I say maybe give it another chance. You might still not like it, which is totally fair, but maybe tempered expectations and a slightly more lenient attitude will allow you to enjoy it a bit more this time around.

7. Rogue One

Now, as much as I enjoyed Solo as a relatively shallow but fun Star Wars action movie, it is not my favorite Star Wars movie of that brand. That honor goes solely to Rogue One. This movie is pure Star Wars fan service. You got X-wings, TIE fighters, stormtroopers, AT-STs, AT-ATs, star destroyers, new ships and infantry armor, and let’s not forget Darth Vader. That scene with him at the end of the film is one of my all-time favorite scenes in any Star Wars movie. I got chills watching that sequence. It was everything I’d ever wanted from a Darth Vader cameo.

Now, Rogue One might be almost nothing but action and fanservice -- most of the main cast of characters is not terribly interesting or memorable -- but that’s okay. This is a lot of people’s new favorite Star Wars movie, and I don’t think it’s hard to see why. It’s basically everything fans loved most about the prequels -- the spectacle, the new worlds, the new weapons, the new soldiers, while still trying to keep true to the spirit of the franchise, and making nods to its roots. The characters can be bland, and some of the fights drag on a bit, but it’s still a thrilling ride. Also, K-2SO is probably the funniest character in any Star Wars film.

6. The Last Jedi

This movie has some of the greatest, most powerful moments in the entire franchise. Rey’s relationship with Kylo Ren and their confrontations with Luke were an incredible emotional foundation to the story. Many of the visuals were dazzling, and not all but many of the jokes landed pretty well. Luke was provided with a realistic and interesting character arc that gave room for actual growth and depth and struggle -- not simply making him another wise old Jedi Master with a padawan who turned to the dark.

This movie took a lot of risks, and not all of them panned out for sure. I disagree with a lot of the narrative choices in this film, especially when it comes to how Kylo Ren and Rey’s relationship ends up by the end of the movie, and what they did with Poe and Finn. However, I cannot understate how great I think other elements of the story were. This is the movie that made me actually start to feel like Rey was a more fleshed-out character, and it made Kylo Ren my new favorite character in the sequel trilogy (also I really like the fight with the praetorian guards, which I guess is a controversial opinion?). While the movie is deeply flawed, it also has a lot in it that is deeply good, and that is definitely worth something.

5. Return of the Jedi

It was very close for me between this movie and The Last Jedi, but I settled on placing episode 6 higher because, to me, it just presents a more elegant narrative with a more cathartic resolution. Return of the Jedi gives us a strong and satisfying conclusion to Luke’s story, and is probably full of more heart and love than any other installment in the series, showcasing bonds between Han and Leia, Leia and Luke, and a reforged bond between Luke and his father. The team is reunited, and it feels so good.

That being said, the movie does have its share of flaws, many of which are in common with The Last Jedi. A lot of the movie feels like needless padding and sort of wasted screentime for the main characters, aside from Luke, who didn’t get much of a meaningful role in the story. However, I feel that it’s counterbalanced by the fact that this film also has some of the most powerful drama in the series. Luke’s confrontation of Vader and the Emperor is wonderfully tense and exciting, and it comes to a stirring conclusion. Plus, Han, Leia, Chewie, C-3PO and R2-D2 are all still their lovable selves, bantering away and getting in way over their heads. It’s kind of hard to not find the film charming. All in all, a great way to wrap up an iconic trilogy.

4. Revenge of the Sith

I remember when this film came out, some critics even went so far as to say it was “better than the original trilogy.” While that’s certainly up for the fans to debate, I do think this movie demonstrated a sense of clarity that was lacking in either of the other prequels. It’s a story all about one thing -- Anakin wants to stop his wife from dying a certain death, and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. The resulting story is filled with incredibly potent pain, fear, anxiety, suffering and darkness, as Anakin fights and eventually gives into temptation.

Okay, yeah, the dialogue is still mostly terrible, and the acting can still feel forced and awkward, but I think if you’re able to look past that, you’ll see what it easily the strongest narrative in the prequel trilogy. It also has a lot of things that the other two prequels were missing: humor (the entire beginning sequence is a fun and largely comical ride not found in the other prequels), memorably dramatic scenes (“Did you ever hear of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?”) and the wickedly over-the-top Emperor finally taking the spotlight with his cackling and pontificating. It may not be the most gracefully crafted movie in the series, but it does have one of the most powerful stories to tell, and I think that’s what ultimately shines through.

3. The Force Awakens

I love this movie. The action, the effects, the characters, the humor -- it is a cavalcade of blockbuster science-fantasy wonder. Abrams did an outstanding job retooling the original trilogy to suit a modern audience, with new, creative takes on the faceless, nameless stormtrooper, a Darth Vader stand-in who knows he’s a stand-in and hates it, and a burgeoning hero doesn’t run toward adventure but away from it. There is an energy, a sort of vitality, to this film that I don’t think you can find in any other installment in the series. It’s dazzling, powerful and full of spirit.

And yes, it has its own fair share of flaws. The political situation is weirdly under-explained, the movie heavily relies on the original films as a template for the plot’s structure, and Rey could’ve used more coherent development as the protagonist of the film. However, I wholly and heartily believe that the movie more than makes up for all of that with its unique and charming cast of original characters. I loved Poe Dameron, Kylo Ren, Finn, and the returning Han and Chewie in this story. They all did wonderful performances with snappy dialogue, great performances and thrilling fights. It would’ve been great if the studio had tried to stray from the norm more, sure, but The Force Awakens, in my eyes, is still an exhilarating, warm and entrancing entryway into the territory of a new era for the franchise.

2. A New Hope

This one was tough to place. If I’m being completely honest, I think I probably actually like The Force Awakens more as a film, but it just doesn’t sit right with me to not give priority to the original. And I think credit should be given where credit is due: this movie, for better or worse, revolutionized cinema. It’s the movie that started it all, defying all odds and expectations. It’s the ideal archetype of the hero’s journey; a boy from humble beginnings meets with an old mentor who shows him a much bigger, brighter, and scarier world that he must face for the good of the world he lives in. Along the way, we meet some of the most iconic and memorable characters in the history of film -- Han Solo, Princess Leia, C-3PO, R2-D2 and the ever-lovable Darth Vader.

Now, has this movie been overly mythologized? Yes. Has it in many respects aged poorly? Sure. It totally has. The dialogue can be goofy, the action can look hokey and the pacing can feel terribly slow. But a lot of people will throw statements around like “It’s only famous because it was the first” when looking at movies like the original Star Wars, or the characters contained within. But I think that line of reasoning is misguided. Cheesy sci-fi features, space operas, action movies, roguish characters, princesses and humble heroes were not invented by Star Wars or George Lucas, just as people with superhuman abilities were not pioneered by the creators of Superman. And yet, this movie stood out in all of moviemaking history, proving that it had accomplished what no film like it had before. It is not a beloved film simply because it was the first. It’s the first because it was beloved.

Honorable Mention: The Clone Wars

Not the movie, the series (because the movie was basically just the pilot to the series that honestly shouldn’t have been shown in theaters). It doesn’t technically qualify for this list, but I just have to mention it (honorably). This series took a look at the prequels, for all their flaws, and said “I can make people like this era of Star Wars.” And you know what? They succeeded. The versions of Obi-Wan, Anakin and the many clone troopers featured in this series are now often the versions people think of when remembering the Clone Wars era of the saga. It was a rollercoaster of a series, with surprisingly dark and dramatic stories, as well as shockingly good action and visuals.

Sure, there were a lot of subpar episodes, but those aren’t what people remember. People remember a version of Anakin that made him a likeable hero, a new Jedi padawan for the audience to identify with, new stories that deepened and expanded upon the lore of the universe, and some really cool warfare that honestly blows a lot of what we saw in the actual prequel films out of the water. If you haven’t seen it yet, get a free trial of Disney + and start binging.

1. The Empire Strikes Back

Okay, okay, yeah, we all saw this coming. Not exactly an original opinion, is it? Still, I can’t deny that I solidly believe The Empire Strikes Back to be the best-made Star Wars film. It may not have the razzle-dazzle of the prequels or the sequels, and it may not have the satisfactory finality of Revenge of the Sith or Return of the Jedi. But what this film does have is care. It’s a movie that feels like it was carefully crafted from top to bottom, with every scene, every narrative throughline, every theme and every line of dialogue.

This is where we got “Do, or do not. There is no try.” This is where we got “I am your father.” This is where we got “I love you/I know.” This is where Vader really cemented himself as the end-all-be-all big bad of the Star Wars galaxy. This is where Han and Leia became the cinematic couple of a lifetime. This is where we really learned about the Force, the Jedi and what sorts of trials Luke would have to face were he to take on that legacy. It’s a magical film, full of wonder, hope, darkness, tragedy and love.

I won’t say it’s a perfect Star Wars movie, because it’s not. No Star Wars movie is. But that’s the beauty of the franchise. Everyone values something different about Star Wars. Everyone has their own favorite movie or series or book or comic or even theme park ride. It’s a phenomenon that spans generations, each one looking back fondly on the era that came before. There were people who grew up on the original trilogy, and now we have people who grew up on the prequels. And in just a few short decades, we’ll have people who grew up with BB-8, Kylo Ren and Rey, and that, to me, is just fantastic.

I know many of you have already written off Star Wars, or at least the new movies, but I am both nervous and excited to see where this all goes in seven days. And I know that there are many of you out there still celebrating Star Wars, holding it dear to your hearts, and not forgetting the feeling it gave you whenever you first fell in love with the franchise. I hope that feeling stays with us, and that it cuts through all the hatred and shouting and derision.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to watch today’s episode of The Mandalorian.

[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: The Fly Collection

David Cronenberg's The Fly is commonly cited as a remake that is superior to the original; an assertion that's difficult to argue, but both films are effective mashups of science fiction and horror for their time. In fact, the Fly franchise - the 1958 original, its two sequels, the remake, and its sequel - is quite good as a whole. Scream Factory has collected them all on Blu-ray in a box set dubbed The Fly Collection.

Each of the five films is housed in an individual Blu-ray case with original poster art, all of which are packaged inside a rigid slipcover case featuring new artwork. 20th Century Fox's existing high definition transfers have been utilized, and each presentation is crisp and clear. The movies are accompanied by a variety of newly-produced special features along with archival extras to make viewers buzz with excitement.

The Fly begins with an atypical murder-mystery, in which the mystery is not a whodunit but rather a whydunit. Helene Delambre (Patricia Owens, Sayonara) immediately confesses to killing her husband, scientist Andre Delambre (David Hedison, Live and Let Die), via hydraulic press - first to her husband's brother, Francois (Vincent Price, House on Haunted Hill), and then to the detective on the case, Inspector Charas (Herbert Marshall, Foreign Correspondent), - but she refuses to say why.

The slow build pays off with a dramatic reveal toward the end of an extended flashback sequence that makes up the film's second act. Andre invented a light-speed teleportation device, the disintegrator-integrator, that he eventually went through himself, only to have a pesky fly unknowingly join him. The result is a disquieting hybrid with a human body topped by a fly's head, revealed in an iconic shot that harkens back to the climax of The Phantom of the Opera.

The creature is ingrained in pop culture, but it's easy to imagine audiences in 1958 being shocked by the dramatic reveal. The theatrical trailer smartly features Vincent Price addressing the audience directly, teasing the "unearthly horror" without revealing anything. The special effects may be schlocky by modern standards, but the overall concept - based on the 1957 short story of the same name by George Langelaan - holds up quite well.

The Fly is directed by Kurt Neumann (Rocketship X-M) and written by James Clavell (The Great Escape), marking his only foray into genre pictures. Neumann died under mysterious circumstances shortly before the film's release, missing its commercial success as one of Fox's biggest hits of the year. Shot in CinemaScope with Color by Deluxe, the picture features cinematography by Karl Struss (The Great Dictator) that makes the laboratory's sleek production design pop.

The Fly's Blu-ray disc has two audio commentaries. The first is a new track featuring filmmakers/historians Steve Haberman (co-writer of Dracula: Dead and Loving It) and Constantine Nasr. It's educational but far more casual than the average historian commentary, and much better for it. The second is a light, cheery track with Hedison circa 2008. His memory is sharp, and he proudly discusses playing his character for the duration, including when his face is obscured by a cloth and, later, the fly mask.

Fly Trap: Catching a Classic is ported over from the 2007 DVD. The making-of featurette includes Hedison, Haberman, David Frankham, Tony Timpone, Donald F. Glut, and more, and even touches on the sequels, but at 11 minutes, it's only able to scratch the surface. A 1997 episode of Biography on Vincent Price features interviews with the likes of Roger Corman, Dennis Hopper, Roddy McDowall, Hazel Court, Norman Lloyd, and daughter Victoria Price. Extras are rounded out by a brief Fox Movietone News segment about movie monsters attending the film's premiere, along with the aforementioned trailer.

Fox was quick to capitalize on the success of The Fly with a sequel, Return of the Fly, released in 1959. This was a time when sequels were not the norm, mind you, so the budget is noticeably smaller. It was shot in a mere 10 days and recycles sets from the first film. CinemaScope was utlized agan but this time in black and white, which feels like a regression yet also lends itself to a film noir atmosphere. It greatly pales in comparison to its predecessor, naturally, but it fares rather well for a rushed, cheap followup.

Price is the only original cast member to reprise his role, although several other characters return to be played by different actors. Well on his way to genre stardom, thanks in no small part to The Fly, Price receives top billing this time around; although he's still not really the main character. That honor goes to Brett Halsey (The Devil's Honey) as Philippe Delambre, the now-adult son of Andre who wishes to continue his father's mysterious work, against Francois' wishes.

Despite Andre's attempts to destroy all traces of his research in the previous film, Philippe is able to successfully recreate the disintegrator-integrator with the assistance of his father's former associate, Alan Hinds (David Frankham, 101 Dalmatians). Hinds, however, is a dastardly double-crosser out to sabotage Philippe for his own gain. He ultimately causes Philippe to suffer the same fate as his father, turning him into a mutant fly creature.

Writer-director Edward Bernds (World Without End) rehashes a lot for the sequel, but there are some interesting twists. While the original story's creature largely garnered sympathy between shocks, the sequel's creature is a victim that's out for revenge. It's occasionally played for scares, although the mask - oversized and cheesy compared to the original - isn't nearly as effective this time around, but the viewer is rooting for, rather than sympathizing with, the monster as a hero.

Return of the Fly's Blu-ray disc boasts three audio commentaries, two of which are new. Frankham showcases a miraculously good memory for a 93-year-old, citing events from 50 years prior with ease. He's joined by friend/actor Jonathan David Dixon, who facilitates the conversation and fills in the blanks as needed. The actor's sweet demeanor and impressive recollection caused me to add his 2012 autobiography, Which One Was David?, to my to-read list.

Film historian/author Tom Weaver's new commentary is informative yet feels conversational; a welcome change of pace from the typically dry solo historian track. The third commentary is an archival session with Halsey and film historian/journalist David Del Valle. It may not be the most enlightening listen, as Halsey's memory isn't as strong as Frankham's, but it's enjoyable enough. Other special features include the theatrical trailer, a TV spot, and a still gallery.

The diminishing budget and resources between The Fly and Return of the Fly pales in comparison to the decline from Return to Curse of the Fly. Released in 1965, the third and final entry in the original series was produced in the United Kingdom. With Price unable to return, as he was under an iron-clad contract with American International Pictures, a new story was conceived. The go-for-broke sequel extends the mythology but distorts the familial lineage, and there's no fly this time around.

Taking another jump into the near future, the film opens with a woman, who we later come to know as Patricia Stanley (Carole Gray, Island of Terror), running away from a mental institution in her underwear. The slow motion sequence is more likely to be mistaken for a Roger Corman exploitation picture rather than identified as a studio sequel. Patricia runs into Andre Delambre's grandson, Martin (The Spy Who Loved Me), and the two quickly fall for one another despite their respective sordid pasts.

Beyond the opening attempt at titillation, this is a slow burner that's decidedly less familiar than its predecessor. Martin and his father, Henri (Brian Donlevy, The Quatermass Xperiment), have continued to make advancements using the technology developed by Andre. They have successfully teleported between Quebec and London with terrible consequences; deformed experiments gone wrong are kept locked away like prisoners. A grotesque effect in the last act is a fitting precursor to the remake.

Director Don Sharp (The Kiss of the Vampire) and writer Harry Spalding (The Watcher in the Woods) present an interesting moral quandary. Once again shot in CinemaScope black and white, the picture has a bit of a Gothic horror atmosphere. It's never fully harnessed, but the plot flirts with Patricia's descent into madness. An ill-advised Caucasian actress (Yvette Rees) playing an Asian role - with obvious fake eyelids to change the shape of her eyes - is a harsh reminder of racist practices in Hollywood.

Curse of the Fly's Blu-ray disc kicks off with an audio commentary with Haberman and Nasr, who once again provide a thorough, analytical look at the film, making a compelling argument for it being superior to Return. In new interviews, actress Mary Manson recalls going under complicated makeup to play the "very, very odd part" of the film's most integral creature, and continuity person Renee Glynne doesn't remember much about her work on the picture but offers a perspective from a rarely-heard crew position. The theatrical trailer, a TV spot, and a still gallery are also included.

When The Fly received the remake treatment in 1986, director David Cronenberg (Videodrome) put his patented body-horror spin on the concept. But beyond the Academy Award-winning makeup effects, which are aberrant and plentiful, lays a beautiful romance. The lean-paced film gets into it right away, opening with quirky scientist Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum, Jurassic Park) meeting journalist Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis, Beeteljuice).

Brundle courts Veronica by showing off his latest invention - teleportation devices known as telepods - and enlisting her to document his monumental findings. Brundle eventually goes through the telepod himself, unaware that a fly is in the device with him. While he's ostensibly unphased at first, he quickly discovers increased physical abilities. The benefits are short-lived, however, as he literally falls apart as the fly molecules overtake the human ones.

Unlike the original film, which hinged on a single, big reveal of a human-fly hybrid, Cronenberg and co-writer Charles Edward Pogue's (DragonHeart) script features a metamorphosis that slowly progresses - with gooey, practical effects by Chris Walas (Gremlins, Raiders of the Lost Ark) - throughout the film. Regular Cronenberg cinematographer Mark Irwin (Scream, There's Something About Mary) captures the atmosphere in an environment that begins cold and gets warmer as the film progresses.

Goldblum's awkward charms are at a peak. He and Davis were already a real-life couple, and their chemistry is palpable on screen. John Getz (Blood Simple) plays the third part of their love triangle as Stathis Borans, Veronica's boss and ex-boyfriend. But the intimacy extends beyond the relationships; the sparse film has but three essential roles, all of whom the viewer gets to know on a visceral level. The romance is supplemented by a heartstring-pulling score by Howard Shore (The Lord of the Rings, The Silence of the Lambs).

The Fly's Blu-ray disc offers two audio commentaries: an archival track with Cronenberg and a new one with The Artist as Monster: The Cinema of David Cronenberg author William Beard. Cronenberg's commentary is a fascinating mix of anecdotes and insight, such as the telepod design being based on a Ducati motorcycle cylinder and how he had to stop Davis from subconsciously mimicking Goldblum's distinct mannerisms. Beard's analytical track digs into the film's subtext and explores its themes, giving context to how it fits into Cronenberg's filmography. There's also a trivia track, in which bits of information pop up while the movie plays.

A new interview with comedy legend Mel Brooks (Blazing Saddles) - who produced The Fly under his Brooksfilms banner - is a highlight of the set. The 93-year-old Hollywood veteran chats about Cronenberg, Goldblum, David Lynch, and more. Other new interviews include producer Stuart Cornfeld, who reveals that Robert Bierman was going to direct until a family tragedy prevented it and that John Malkovich was originally sought for the lead role; Iriwn, who discusses the unique experience of working with Cronenberg, including their unfortunate falling out; and Shore, who explains how he implemented tragic themes for his first symphonic score of this size.

A plethora of existing special features are ported over. Fear of the Flesh: The Making of The Fly is a three-part documentary produced by Fox in 2005. The three stages of the film's production are covered by Goldblum, Davis, Getz, Walas, Pogue, Irwin, and more over the course of 135 minutes, not to mention extended/deleted interview segments. The Brundle Museum of Natural History features Walas sharing design concepts and effects materials alongside behind-the-scenes footage. Deleted and extended scenes, including the alternate ending, are also featured.

The disc contains a number of written works to peruse: Langelaan's original short story, Pogue's draft of the script, Cronenberg's rewrite of the script, and three 1986 articles about the film ("The Fly Papers" from Cinefex and "The Fly: New Buzz on an Old Theme" and "More About The Fly" from American Cinematographer). Other extras includes pre-production film tests, the original electronic press kit, a vintage profile on Cronenberg, various trailers, teasers, and TV spots, and still galleries (poster and lobby cards, publicity, behind the scenes, concept art, and four different effects galleries).

Much like the original The Fly, the remake's success led to a sequel. Released in 1989, The Fly II saw Walas assume the director's chair for the first time in his illustrious career. The script is written by Mick Garris (Hocus Pocus), Frank Darabont (The Shawshank Redemption), and Jim and Ken Wheat (Pitch Black). The pacing languishes in comparison to its predecessor, but it's not a bad followup overall. While Irwin and Shore's contributions are missed, the film reunites the talents of Hellraiser and Hellbound: Hellraiser II cinematographer Robin Vidgeon and composer Christopher Young.

The film opens with Veronica (recast with Saffron Henderson, Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan) giving birth to Seth Brundle's baby - a squirming, amorphous creature - while Stathis (Getz, the only returning cast member, sporting a fake beard) looks on. The child, Martin Brundle (Eric Stoltz, Mask), suffers from a dramatically accelerated life cycle in terms of both physical growth and intelligence, so by his fifth birthday, he looks like he's in his 20s.

Martin is offered a job repairing his father's telepods in the laboratory in which he was raised. While working, he becomes romantically involved with a fellow employee, Beth Logan (Daphne Zuniga, Spaceballs). Their relationship is far less organic than the one depicted in the previous film, but it largely works. Martin eventually enters a cocoon-like state, only to emerge as a creature with virtually no humanity left for a final act that feels more like an Aliens knock-off than a Fly sequel.

Despite Walas helming several ambitious special effects - including a messy head crushing that initially earned the picture an X rating - he’s unable to outdo his landmark work on Cronenberg's film. The effects feel comparatively restrained with the exception of the the fly creature's final form, which looks a bit too cartoony. Yet, as beautifully tragic as Cronenberg's film is, The Fly II contains what is perhaps the franchise's most heart-wrenching scene: Martin watching his dog - his only friend - go through the telepod with disastrous results.

The Fly II's Blu-ray disc features new interviews with Cornfeld, who opens up about the difficulties of working with the studio on the sequel; Garris, who details his quite interesting original concept that greatly differs from the final product; Ken Wheat, who explains what he and his brother's draft introduced to the project before Darabont came on for the final rewrite; Vidgeon, who discusses working with Walas as a first-time director; Young, who talks about tapping into the emotional aspects and how his score differs from that of The Fly; and special effects artist Tom Sullivan (The Evil Dead), who talks collaborating on the creatures with other artists.

An audio commentary with Walas and film historian Bob Burns, whose extensive prop collection includes several pieces from The Fly II, is carried over. The old friends' camaraderie is apparent as Walas expounds upon the experience, including Davis' reasoning for not reprising her role. Transformations: Looking Back at The Fly II is a 48-minute retrospective from 2005 with Walas, Young, and producer Steven-Charles Jaffe (Ghost, Near Dark). Extended interviews with Walas (a sprawling 80 minutes) and Jaffe are also included.

The Fly Papers: The Buzz on Hollywood’s Scariest Insect is an hour-long TV documentary from 2000 about all five Fly films. Narrated by Star Trek's Lenoard Nimoy, it features Hugh Hefner, Ray Bradbury, Walas, Hedison, and more. Walas' crew's video production journal offers a behind-the-scenes look at the film's special effects. Young provides a master class in soundtrack composition in relation to his work in The Fly II. Other extras include storyboard-to-film comparisons with optional commentary by Walas; the original electronic press kit plus extended segments with Walas, Stoltz, and Zuniga; an alternate ending; a deleted scene; teaser and theatrical trailers; and still and storyboard galleries.

Genre fans should be afraid... be very afraid of not owning this set. Scream Factory has a reputation of going above and beyond for their collector's edition releases, but their box sets - like this and the recent The Omen Collection - are downright essential for horror completists. From presentation to special features, The Fly Collection does justice to each entry in the influential franchise.

The Fly Collection is available now on Blu-ray via Scream Factory.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust, Volume 5, Number 12

Matthew J. Rolin 

Ned Starke was right. Winter is coming, and maybe, for our Chicago and Eastern Seaboard contingent, it’s here. That’s a good excuse to find a big comfy chair near the stereo and dig into some new music. This time we offer some hip hop, some finger picking, some music concrete, some indie pop and, just this once, a Broadway musical. Contributors include Ray Garraty, Jennifer Kelly, Justin Cober-Lake, Jonathan Shaw, Bill Meyer and Andrew Forell. Stay warm.

ALLBLACK x Offset Jim — 22nd Ways (Play Runners Association)

ALLBLACK and Offset Jim have collaborated on a few tracks before, but this is their first release together. Their differences, which are significant, make the disc enjoyable through and through. Offset Jim has a poker face delivery that can fool anybody into thinking he’s deadly serious when he’s clearly having fun. ALLBLACK, on the other hand, is known for his goofy humor, but his goofiness is a mask that obscures a poetic psycho killer. Their combination of a healthy dose of humor and true-to-the-streets seriousness—seen here— makes a case for tolerating all kinds of oddball pairings:

“Don't leave the house without your makeup kit Diss songs about your real daddy just won't stick Hey, bitch, say, bitch, I know you miss this demon dick Please comb Max hair, take off them wack outfits”

Ray Garraty

 David Byrne — American Utopia (Nonesuch)

If you live long enough, everything that seemed edgy and electrifying in your youth will turn safe and comfortable in middle age. You’ll buy festival tickets with access to couches, tents and air conditioning. Clash songs will turn up in Jaguar ads. Kids at the playground will run around sporting your Black Flag tee-shirt. You may even find yourself in a $250 seat, at a beautiful theater, with your beautiful wife, seeing “American Utopia,” David Byrne’s new jukebox musical, and, to borrow a phrase, you may ask yourself, “How did I get here?” And look, you could do worse. These are wonderful songs, still prickly and spare even now in full orchestral arrangements, still booming with cross-currented, afro-beat rhythms (Byrne got to that early on, give him credit), still buoyed with a scratchy, ironic, ebullient pulse of life. It’s hard to say what plot line stitches together “Born Under Punches,” “Every Day is a Miracle,” “Burning Down the House” and “Road to Nowhere,” or how absorbing the connective narrative may be. It’s not, obviously, as kinetic and daring as the original arrangements, stitched together with shoe-laces, stuttering with anxiety, bounced and jittered by the back line of Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz, clad in an absurdly oversized suit. And, yet, it’s not so bad and if I had three big bills to spend on a night at the theater, I might just want to see it re-enacted. Because I’ve gotten safe and comfortable, too, and anyway, better that than the Springsteen show.

Jennifer Kelly

 Charly Bliss — Supermoon EP (Barsuk) 

Supermoon by Charly Bliss

Charly Bliss’ latest release Supermoon, collects five tracks written during the Young Enough sessions that didn’t make the final cut. The EP showcases the band transitioning from the grungy edge of their debut Guppy to the more polished pop sound of its successor. Eva Hendricks is one of the moment’s most distinctive voices, and these songs find her grappling with the themes so tellingly addressed on Young Enough. Although the songs here deserve release, the interest is in what they don’t do. More than sketches, they are less lyrically formed than those on the album, more guitar driven and without the big pop pay offs. The band, Hendricks on guitar and vocals, her brother Sam on drums, guitarist Spencer Fox and bassist Dan Shure still produce a hooky, engaging record which will appeal to fans. Newcomers might want to start with the albums but Supermoon is not without its moments.

Andrew Forell

  Cheval Sombre — Been a Lover b/w The Calfless Cow (Market Square)

Cheval Sombre - Been a Lover b/w The Calfless Cow by Market Square Recordings

Cheval Sombre teamed with Luna/Galaxie 500’s Dean Wareham last year for a haunting batch of cowboy songs that found, as I put it in my Dusted review, “unfamiliar shadows and crevices in some very familiar material.” Now comes Cheval Sombre, otherwise known as Chris Porpora, with a brace of soft, dreamy folk-turned-psychedelic songs, one a gently sorrowful original, the other a cover of Alasdair Roberts. “Been a Lover” slow-strums through a whistling canyons of dreams, wistfully surveying the remnants of a long-standing relationship. It has the nodding, skeletal grace of Sonic Boom’s acoustic “Angel,” perhaps no coincidence since the Spaceman 3 songwriter produced the album. “The Calfless Cow” anchors a bit more in folk blues picking, though Porpora’s soft, prayerful vocals float free above the foundations. Both songs feel like spectral images leaving traceries on unexposed film—unsolid and evocative and mysteriously, inexplicably there.

Jennifer Kelly

 Cigarettes After Sex — Cry (Partisan Records)

Cry by Cigarettes After Sex

Cigarettes After Sex’s 2017 debut album was a quite lovely collection of slow-core, lust-lorn dream pop. On the follow up Cry Greg Gonzalez (vocals, guitar), Phillip Tubbs (keys), Randall Miller (bass) and Jacob Tomsky (drums) double down on their signature sound with half the effect. The melodies are still here, the delicate restraint also, Gonzalez’ voice whispers seductively sweet nothings but this time around it is largely nothings he’s working with. It’s not that this is a terrible record, it’s more that the wreaths of gossamer amount to not much. Lacking the humorous touches of the debut, Cry suffers from Gonzalez’ sometimes witless and earnest lyrics which are mirrored in the lackluster pace which makes one desperate for the sex to be over so one can get back to smoking. Cry aims for Lynch/Badalamenti atmospherics and hits them occasionally but too often lapses into Hallmark sentimentalism. For an album ostensibly about romantic and physical love Cry is dispiritingly dry. There is only ash on these sheets. Serge Gainsbourg is somewhere rolling his eyes, and a gasper, in the velvet boudoir of eternity.

Andrew Forell

  Lucy Dacus — 2019 (Matador)

Between Historian and boygenius, Lucy Dacus had a pretty memorable 2018. It makes sense that she'd want to document 2019. What she did instead was release a series of holiday-ish tracks over the course of the year and then collect them as the 2019 EP. The covers will likely get the most attention, whether her loving take on Edith Piaf's “La vie en rose” or the rocking rendition of Wham!'s “Last Christmas.” Dacus doesn't perform these songs with any sense of snark; she's both enjoying herself and invested. Counting Bruce Springsteen's birthday as a holiday might be silly, but she nails “Dancing in the Dark,” turning it to her own aesthetic. The weird one here is “In the Air Tonight,” which smacks of irony and whatever we call guilty pleasures these days, but she plays it straight, arguing for it as a spooky Halloween cut, and sort of pulls it off.  

Focusing on the covers might lead listeners to forget how good a songwriter she is. The Mother's Day “My Mother & I” feels thoroughly like a Dacus number, opening with contemplation: “My mother hates her body / We share the same outline / She swears that she loves mine.” Holidays aren't easy. “Fool's Gold” (stick this New Year's track first or last) falls like snow, laden with regret and rationalization. Dacus works through holidays with care and concern. The covers might be fun (even the Phil Collins number works as a curiosity), but when she lets the more conflicted thoughts come through, as on “Forever Half Mast,” she maintains the hot streak. The EP might be a bit of a diversion, but its secret complexity makes it more surprisingly forceful. Justin Cober-Lake 

 Kool Keith — Computer Technology (Fat Beats)

Computer Technology by Kool Keith

Naming an album Computer Technology in 2019 is like calling a 1950 disc A Light Bulb. Ironic Luddite-ness is a part of the charm of the new Kool Keith’s album, his second this year. The record has a cyberpunk-ish (circa 1984) feel, thanks to wacky, early electronics-like beats that no sane hip hop artist today would agree to rap over. But who said Kool Keith was sane? He’s like a computer virus here, infesting a modern culture he views with disdain. His kooky brags could be written off as old man rants if he been in the rap game since day one. On “Computer Technology” he says: ‘You need to sit down and slow down’, yet he himself shows no signs of slowing down.

If Kool Keith’s 1980s science rap messed around in a high school lab, he’s now a tenured professor in hip hop science blowing up the joint.

Ray Garraty

 Leech — Data Horde (Peak Oil) 

Data Horde by Leech

Brian Foote’s work has a knack for showing up in slightly unexpected and subtly crucial places, whether it’s behind the scenes at Kranky and his own Peak Oil imprint, or as a member at times of Fontanelle or Nudge, or even just helping out Stephen Malkmus with drums. On Data Horde, his debut LP of electronic music under his Leech moniker, Foote works with his customary quiet assurance and subtly radical take on things, delivering a brief but satisfying set of bespoke productions that somehow evoke acid and ambient tinges at the same time, feinting towards full-out jungle eruptions before turning the corner and somehow naturally going somewhere much more minimal. Whether it’s the skittering, pulsing “Brace” or the lush and aptly-named “Nimble”, the results are consistently satisfying and the six tracks here suggest that we could stand to hear a lot more from Leech.  

Ian Mathers

Midnight Odyssey — Biolume Part 1: In Tartarean Chains (I, Voidhanger)

Biolume Part 1 - In Tartarean Chains by MIDNIGHT ODYSSEY

 Midnight Odyssey’s massive new record sounds like what might happen if Gary Numan’s Tubeway Army smoked up a bunch of Walter White’s finest product and decided that they must cover Pink Floyd’s Live at Pompei, complete with ruins and really big gongs. It’s interstellar. It’s perversely grandiose. The synths soar and rumble, the vocals come in mournful choral arrangements, the low end thunders and occasionally explodes into blast-beat barrage. It’s almost impossible to take seriously, and it’s presented with what seems like absolute seriousness. In any case, there’s a lot of it: seven tracks, all of which exceed the eight-minute mark, and most of which moan and intone and resonate well beyond ten minutes. You’ve got to give it to Dis Pater, the only identified member of Midnight Odyssey — he really means it. But it’s often hard to tell if Biolume Part 1 (Pater threatens that there are two more parts to come) is the product of an unchecked, idiosyncratically powerful vision or just goofball cosmological schmaltz. To this reviewer, it’s undecidable. And that’s interesting.

Jonathan Shaw

 Nakhane — You Will Not Die 

South African singer Nakhane Touré has a voice that can stop you in your tracks when he unleashes it, and a willingness to tackle uncomfortable topics (homosexuality, colonialism, and the way the imported Presbyterian church interacts with both) that’s seen him both praised and threatened in his homeland. You Will Not Die marks a shift in Nakhane’s music, both in terms of how directly and intensely he engages with those places where the sacred rubs up against, not so much the profane but the disavowed, even while sonically everything is lusher and brighter, whether it’s the slinky electroglam of “Interloper” or the bell-tolling balladry of “Presbyteria.” For once it’s worth seeking the deluxe edition, for the Bowie-esque Anohni duet “New Brighton” and the defiantly melancholy cover of “Age of Consent” alone.

 Matthew J. Rolin — Matthew J. Rolin (Feeding Tube)

Matthew J. Rolin by Matthew J. Rolin

Matthew J. Rolin steps to the head of the latest class of American Primitive guitarists on this self-titled debut LP. He is currently a resident of Columbus, Ohio, but his main inspirations from within the genre are Chicagoan. Reportedly a Ryley Walker concert sent him down the solo guitar path, but the one time this reviewer caught him in concert, Rolin only made one substance-oriented statement throughout the set, and it was more of a shy assertion than an extravagant boast. His sound more than pays the toll. Bright and ringing on 12 strings, pithy and structurally sound on six, he makes sparing use of outdoor sound and keyboard drones that bring Daniel Bachman to mind. Like Bachman did on his early records, Rolin often relies upon the rush of his fingerpicking to draw the listener along, and what do you know? It works.

Bill Meyer

  Claire Rousay — Aerophobia (Astral Spirits)

Aerophobia by Claire Rousay

To watch Claire Rousay perform is to see the process of deciding made visual. You can’t put that on a tape, but you can make the tape a symbolic and communicative object. To see Rousay repeatedly, or to play her recordings in sequence, is to hear an artist who is rapidly transforming. This one was already a bit behind her development when it was released, but that can be turned into a statement, too. Perhaps the title Aerophobia, which means fear of flying, is a critique of the tape’s essentially musical content? It is a series of drum solos, unlike the more the more recent t4t, which includes self-revealing speech and household sounds. If so, that critique does not reproach the music itself, nor should it. Even when you can’t see her, you can hear her sonic resourcefulness and appreciate the movement and shape she articulates with sound.

Bill Meyer

 Colin Andrew Sheffield & James Eck Rippie — Exploded View (Elevator Bath)

exploded view by colin andrew sheffield & james eck rippie

Colin Andrew Sheffield, who is the proprietor of the Elevator Bath imprint, and James Eck Rippie, who does sound work for Hollywood movies, have this understanding in common: they know that you gotta break things to make things. The things in question don’t even have to be intact when you start; at any rate, the feedback, microphone bumps, blips and skips that make up this 19-minute long piece of musique concrete sound like the product of generations of handling. It all feels a bit like you’re hearing a scan of the shortwave bands from inside the radio, which makes for delightfully disorienting listening.

Bill Meyer

 Ubik — Next Phase (Iron Lung)

Next Phase MLP (LUNGS-148) by UBIK

 Philip K. Dick’s whacko-existentialist-corporate-satire-cum-SF-novel Ubik turns 50 this year, and serendipitously, Australian punks Ubik have released this snarling, tuneful EP into the world. There’s a whole lot of British street punk, c. 1982, in Ubik’s sound, especially if that genre tag and year make you flash on Lurkers, Abrasive Wheels and Angelic Upstarts — bands that knew how to string melodic hooks together, and bands that had pretty solid lefty politics. Ubik’s songs couple street punk’s populist (in the pre-Trump sense) fist-pumping with a spastic, elastic angularity, giving the tracks just enough of a weirdo vibe that the band’s name makes sense. The combination of elements is vividly present in “John Wayne (Is a Cowboy (and Is on Twitter)),” a hugely fun punk song that registers a fair degree of ideological venom as it bashes and speeds along. Somewhere, Horselover Fat is nodding his head and smiling. 

Jonathan Shaw

 Uranium Club — Two Things at Once (Sub Pop)

Uranium Club (sometimes Minneapolis Uranium club) made one of the best punk albums of this year in The Cosmo Cleaners. “A visionary insanity, backed by impressive musical chops,” I opined in Dusted last April, setting off a frenzy of interest and an epic major label bidding war. Just kidding. Hardly anyone noticed. Uranium Club was this year’s Patois Counselors, a band so good that it made no sense that no one knew about them. But, fast forward to now and LOOK at the heading of this review! Sub Pop noticed and included Uranium Club in its storied singles club. And why not? The bluntly named “Two Things at Once,” (Parts I and 2), is just as tightly, maniacally wound as the full-length, just as gloriously, spikily confrontational. “Part 1” scrambles madly, pulling hair out by the roots as it agitatedly considers “our children’s creativity” and whether “I’m too young to die.” It’s like Fire Engines, but faster and crazier and with big pieces of machinery working loose and flying off the sides. “Part 2” runs slower and more lyrically but with no less intensity, big flayed slashes of discord rupturing its meditative strumming. There are no words in it, and yet you sense deep, obsessive bouts of agitation driving its motor, even when the brass comes in, unexpectedly, mournfully, near the end. This is the good stuff, and no one wants you to know about it. Except me. And now Sub Pop. Don’t miss out.

Jennifer Kelly

 Various Artists— Come on up to the House: Women Sing Waits (Dualtone)

Come On Up To The House: Women Sing Waits by Dualtone Music Group, Inc.

Tom Waits’ gravelly voice is embedded deep in the fabric of how we think of Tom Waits songs. You can’t think of “Come On Up to the House” without sandpapery catch in its gospel curves, or of “Downtown Train” without his strangled desolation; he is the songs, and if you don’t like the way he sings, you’ve probably never cared much for his recordings. And yet, here, in this all-woman, star-studded, country-centric collection of covers, you can hear, maybe for the first time, how gracefully constructed these songs are, how pretty the melodies, how well the lyrics fit to them. You cannot believe how different these songs sound with women singing. It is truly revelatory. Contributors include big stars (Aimee Mann, Corinne Rae Bailey), living legends (Iris Dement, Roseanne Cash), up-and-comers (Courtney Marie Andrews, Phoebe Bridgers) and a few emerging artists (Joseph, The Wild Reeds), and all have a case to make. Phoebe Bridgers distills “Georgia Lee” into a quiet, tragic purity, while Angie McMahon finds a private, inward-looking clarity in “Take It With Me.” Courtney Marie Andrews blows up “Downtown Train,” into a swaggering country anthem, while Roseanne Cash infuses “Time” with a warm, unforced glow. These versions transform weird, twisted reveries into American songbook classics, which is what they maybe were, under all that growling, all along.

Jennifer Kelly

[edgeofthedales]

A short birthday tribute to Robert Hardy

A little over a year ago today, Robert Hardy passed away at the age of 91. Had he lived, today would have been his 93th birthday.

(Image credit: The Stage)

Having only become aware of his work late last year, I know there are fans who are far more knowledgeable about his life and work and who could give a much more comprehensive analysis of his life and work. So, this essay will not be that.

Instead, I’d like to talk about what makes him stand out to me.

I actually had been introduced to him many years ago in the film adaptation of Jane Austin’s Sense and Sensibility. Hardy played Sir John Middleton, a kindly if boisterous member of the local gentry who shows compassion to the Dashwood sisters and whose first appearance onscreen involves having a pack of dogs travel with him in his carriage (shades of things to come, for me….). At the time, he mainly stayed in the sidelines for me although that was only because he was one in a cast of wonderful actors within a superb period film.

(Image credit: Frock Flicks)

Back then, I was rather ambivalent to period dramas and even more so to romantically themed ones, but Sense and Sensibility won me over with the high caliber of acting and film-making…of which Hardy certainly played a role.

It wasn’t until years later though, that he actually caught my eye in one of the roles he was probably best known for: Siegfried Farnon on All Creatures Great and Small.

(Image credit: Getty Images)

I had enjoyed the James Herriot books immensely when I was a teenager, but never thought to seek out the TV series until late last year. Originally, it was because I had recently became interested in Peter Davison’s work, first on Doctor Who and then on the vintage mystery series, Campion. Thus, I had fully expected to enjoy All Creatures if only to re-acquaint myself with Herriot’s charming stories and enjoy one of Davison’s most popular roles.

What I didn’t expect was how quickly I became intrigued with Hardy’s Siegfried Farnon. I remembered Siegfried as an explosive, eccentric and yet compassionate character from the books. Hardy, however, gave him even more depth on the TV series. Siegfried became hypocritical and yet charming, temperamental and yet loyal, whimsical and yet possessing sharp, clever mind.

Hardy did not shy away one inch from Siegfried’s flaws and instead showed us how those flaws were simply part of the ultimately warm, kind-hearted and yet complex person that Siegfried was. We wouldn’t want Siegfried to change who he was one bit, flaws and all, and it takes a true acting gift to bring a character like that to life while maintaining that careful balance of shortcomings and noble qualities.

Hardy also did plenty of other things besides All Creatures, of course. One thing that I enjoyed in particular was how he made use of his voice for readings and audio plays. Hardy uses pauses, changes in tone and pitch to add interest to his readings of works like H.G Wells’ The Time Machine.  I would love to hear how he handed Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, but sadly, have not come across any of his audio-book readings.

Speaking of Holmes, Hardy did manage to have one role on the Granada adaptations of the Holmes stories: that of Sir Charles Milverton from the story, The Master Blackmailer. The episode is one of the longest in the Granada series for the short stories, and honestly, I can understand the temptation to spend more time with this one. Hardy makes Milverton an absolutely terrible character: condescending, odious, callous and smarmy. He doesn’t resort to the clichéd mustache-twirling techniques too many use when crafting truly evil villains. He doesn’t have to. There is an edge of danger to his Milverton that comes through despite his lack of making few direct threats.

(Image credit: I hear of Sherlock)

In fact, I think this is something that Hardy excelled at. Many of the characters he played, be they heroes or villains, were often a perfect blend of charm and menace. The mix ensured that his good guys were never too bland and that his villains remained thoroughly watchable.

One set of roles that absolutely required this sort of mix is the other series that I know Hardy best for: Hot Metal, a comedy series from the mid-80s. Hot Metal was a satire on the rise of tabloid journalism in general and on the infamous press figure, Rupert Murdoch in particular. It was an over-the-top, brutal satire of how this brand of journalism fueled an atmosphere of distrust, misinformation, and political polarization in the media and, if anything, is even more relevant today than it was back when it was on the air.

In this series, Hardy has the duel role of Terence “Twiggy” Rathbone (a clear spoof of Murdoch), a multimillionaire businessman who buys out The Daily Crucible, a failing newspaper, and Russell Spam, the editor Twiggy hires to steer the Crucible however he wishes. Both Twiggy and Russell are terrible in their own ways with Twiggy leaning toward egotism and vindictiveness and Russell having nonexistent scruples about getting the latest scoop and increasing readership.

However, despite the fact that these two are far from the protagonists of the show, Hardy manages to keep both Twiggy and Russell entertaining and intriguing. Yes, they are villains, but Hardy is wise enough to figure out that the show could get dreadfully dreary fast if he didn’t also give them an odd sort of charisma which makes it easy to laugh at them and with them even while they are being awful.

I think a detail that sums up a facet of Hardy’s acting best is a moment when Twiggy is being interviewed about his plans for the Crucible. During this interview, Twiggy tries to insist that he’s a “life-long socialist” and friend to the workers (both of which are categorically untrue). While he is spinning his lies, he has a charming smile on his face, but he is also playing with a letter opener, brandishing it like a weapon, like he fully plans on stabbing someone in the back. It’s the perfect quirk to remind us what is really lurking below the surface of Twiggy’s apparent goodwill.

It’s also the sort of detail that Hardy is a master at, going beyond just his dialogue and where his mark is onscreen to bring these characters to life.

Even toward the end of his life, Hardy demonstrated a true skill at giving depth to his characters, no matter how brief their time onscreen was. In Familia, short film by independent filmmaker, James Murray showcases this. Here, Hardy has his last film performance as Sir Ashton Leonard, a very old man who apparently has shown up for a driving lesson and ends up in a revealing conversation with the instructor, Nina. Although we are limited to watching him converse with Nina in a car, Hardy gives us a lovely, bittersweet snapshot of a man who is contemplating years gone by and the end that is surely coming soon. He does this with how his expression mirrors (or sometimes reveals) the emotions Leonard is working through during this conversation.

Honestly, I’m not sure how anyone can keep a completely dry eye when Leonard says “where I’m going, you can’t take anything with you.” It’s a heartbreaking thought, but Hardy delivers it with a quiet insight that is peaceful rather than depressing.

Perhaps that is the heart of what made Hardy such an extraordinary actor: his insight. His commitment to his characters to make them as real and as impactful as they could be, even if that impact was mainly about inspiring a laugh or sheer entertainment.

There is a lot more of Hardy’s work that I have left to discover and sadly, none of it will happen while he is still alive. However, I like to think that he’d enjoy the thought of people coming to know him through his work long after his death.

(Image credit: Move Nocitias)

So happy birthday Sir Robert Hardy (yes, he was never knighted, but really should have been). Thank you for leaving so much to those of us who will miss you.

[swynlake-rp]

“I’ll do it myself!”

FULL NAME: Drizella “Izzy” Tremaine FACE CLAIM: Phoebe Waller-Bridge PRONOUNS: She/Her BIRTHDAY: April 3 1990 CURRENT STATUS: Taken

Character Information || cw: death, bullying ||

Drizella Tremaine and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Week: A Story in Headlines, Tweets, and Other Online Things

US WEEKLY: OCT. 13 2023

Izzy Maine loses it Weigh in: should we #CancelIzzy??

A video of comedian Izzy Maine, 33, pouring scalding hot coffee on TikTok personality Esme Bennet (@its_esmayyyyyy), 20, has gone viral — with the hashtag #CancelIzzy trending as well.

The video, which seems to take place at a brunch gathering held at Bennet’s house in Los Angeles, showcases the comedian angrily storming up to Bennet and purposefully dumping a carton of coffee onto the influencer and nearby guests, including Maine’s husband of three years, comedian Grant Dayton, 35. 

Dayton and Maine are both alumni of Saturday Night Live, who left the sketch comedy show to pursue their own projects. Before the Writer’s Guild of America and Screen Actors Guild strikes, the pair were working on a new comedy series for Netflix, with Maine showrunning and Dayton executive-producing and starring. 

Many of Bennet’s fans are rallying on social media, calling for Netflix to cancel Maine’s show.  

—

THE SOCIAL MEDIA SITE FORMERLY KNOWN AS TWITTER: OCT. 13 2023

esmayfan11: izzy maine is an ugly anti-magick c*nt who just hates beautiful half-fairies #CancelIzzy

🍃greengirlyy🍃: wait, izzy maine is anti-magick???? who is she??

esmayfan11: yeah lol shes this bitchy comedian and called esme a lot of fairy-slurs and one of my moots found this old video where she’s pulling her ears up to make them pointy ://///

🍃greengirlyy🍃: omg i never knew… and im a fairy … time to #CancelIzzy

—

THE CUT: OCT. 16 2023

Izzy Maine’s catastrophic fall from grace In the aftermath of the comedian’s explosive outburst, more women are coming forward with stories of Maine’s volatile behavior 

Excerpt: 

“One time during a writer’s meeting, she got so mad that she grabbed a tray of bagels and flung it onto the table,” says a writer’s assistant, who prefers to remain anonymous. “Gobs of cream cheese got everywhere. I had to leave the room crying, I was so scared. The smell of lox wouldn’t leave my hair for days.”

When asked about the bagel incident, a representative of Maine’s provided this statement: 

“It’s true that Izzy often gets passionate in the writer’s room, because she wants the best from her team. This claim however completely misconstrues what happened, which was simply a clumsy dining accident that occurred when Izzy was vehemently gesturing.”

The representative went on to say that Maine paid for the entire team’s laundry and dry-cleaning. 

—

THE COMMENTS OF AN INSTAGRAM POST OF SAID ARTICLE: OCT. 16 2023

🍃greengirlyy🍃: ugh and this article never even mentions how anti-magick she is!!!!!!! #CancelIzzy

carson_tyler: Izzy Maine is anti-Magick? Since when??

🍃greengirlyy🍃: OMG Uncle tyler did u not hear about the esme bennet stuff??? Ill DM u a google doc

eggsandjake: I bet she scared all the magicks who ever worked with her into silence. #CancelIzzy

—

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER: OCT. 17 2023

Multiple Netflix projects scrapped; streamer cites creative differences 

Excerpt: 

Netflix officially pulled the plug on at least 12 different shows and movies in development, citing new directions and creative differences between the talent involved. This coincides with the end of the 148-day Writers Guild of America strike, and the ongoing Screen Actors Guild strike.

The canceled projects run a wide gamut from Love is Blind: Avalor, the long-rumored biopic of Ingary’s Madame Sulliman, and comedian Izzy Maine’s highly anticipated sitcom. Considering the other changes at Netflix, specifically the price plan and introduction of an ad-tier, it seems like the streamer is pivoting to a new direction. 

—

FACEBOOK COMMENTS: OCT. 17 2023

Tyler Carson: Wow. Good riddance to Izzy Maine! My niece tells me that she’s really anti-Magick… knowing her, this show was probably problematic! Used to love her stuff but now… #CancelIzzy

Grace Frank: DONT.. LISTEN.. TO the WOKE moB… I never LIKED THIS WOMAN.. But she is BEING SILENCED by the LIBS 

—

JEZEBEL: OCT. 18 2023

Netflix was right to dump Izzy Maine Coffee and bagels aside… 

Excerpt: 

TikTok influencer coffee spill and bagel tray flinging aside, Izzy Maine was just never funny and it’s time we admit that. 

I don’t mean to be the type of person who brags about not liking something cool, but I never got Izzy Maine’s whole schtick. Didn’t we leave behind that whole “not like other girls, rah-rah I like pizza and beer and hate motherhood” deal behind in 2013? None of her standup clips have ever made me laugh. 

I’m not alone. Earlier this year, an audio clip from one of Maine’s standups went viral — but for reasons I’m sure Izzy Maine would hate. It’s a clip from one of her standups, where she brags about being the type of woman who doesn’t wear makeup. It became a meme, with plenty of empowered young women, proudly showing off their makeup routines and outright mocking Maine’s words. 

—

THE SOCIAL MEDIA SITE FORMERLY KNOWN AS TWITTER: OCT. 18 2023

esmayfan11: omg… i kno what we should do in support of esme!! we should all make tiktoks with that old izzy maine audio where she’s talking about how fake makeup is and show how BEAUTIFUL esme is with her magic and perfect makeup #CancelIzzy

—

✓  Extroverted, loyal, honest-to-a-fault

✖  Hedonistic, shallow, quick-to-anger

Character Suggestions

None

Current Relationships

Anastasia Tremaine (sister) Rodmilla Tremaine (mother) Ella Ashbourne (stepsister)

Possible Relationships

None

Magical Abilities

None

[aion-rsa]

Why Star Wars Trilogy Editor Marcia Lucas Hates the Sequels

https://ift.tt/3zrNmhV

The divisiveness of the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy remains powerful nearly two years after its conclusion. Yet, as topically wide-ranging—and, in some cases, strangely political—as debates over the Disney-dealt follow-ups to the sacred Original Trilogy became, the cold-hard metric of box office grosses confirms their status as Star Wars’ least-lucrative mainline movies (excluding the anemic Solo). Now, the camp of sequel detractors has apparently gained a surprisingly authoritative ally in film editor Marcia Lucas, who, besides being the ex-wife of George Lucas, was a crucially grounding visionary in the franchise’s formation.   

One of Star Wars’ early guiding forces, Marcia Lucas (born Marcia Lou Griffin), has offered some scathing criticism of Sequel Trilogy films The Force Awakens (2015), The Last Jedi (2017) and The Rise of Skywalker (2019), rife with the kind of adjectives that don’t beat around the bush. The stinging words stem from Howard Kazanjian: A Producer’s Life by J.W. Rinzler, a recently-released biography on the legendary, Lucas-collaborating film producer. In the book’s foreword, Marcia delivers a devastating rebuke (via Inverse,) of the franchise’s most recent films and their stewardship under veteran producer Kathleen Kennedy—albeit with the rhetorical analgesic of a complimentary preamble.

“I like Kathleen. I always liked her. She was full of beans. She was really smart and really bright. Really wonderful woman. And I liked her husband, Frank. I liked them a lot,” says Lucas. “Now that she’s running Lucasfilm and making movies, it seems to me that Kathy Kennedy and J.J. Abrams don’t have a clue about Star Wars. They don’t get it. And J.J. Abrams is writing these stories—when I saw that movie where they kill Han Solo, I was furious. I was furious when they killed Han Solo. Absolutely, positively there was no rhyme or reason to it. I thought, ‘You don’t get the Jedi story. You don’t get the magic of Star Wars.’”

Interestingly, Marcia Lucas’s role behind the scenes of the original Star Wars Trilogy—and the George-penned, Steven Spielberg-directed Raiders of the Lost Ark—as an editor and informal story consultant has only recently started to become widely known from a handful of tell-all books and behind-the-scenes television specials. However, it does seem clear in hindsight that the world-altering pop culture groundswell that was 1977’s original Star Wars was a gestalt effort that saw George’s early, allegedly-vague Flash Gordon-esque serial sci-fi designs refined by personnel such as producer Gary Kurtz and, most notably, Marcia. Indeed, as alleged, Marcia—as his wife—primarily possessed the clout to criticize George’s wilder, unfeasible ideas and constructively refine them in a way that bore pathos on the screen; the Apollo to his Dionysus, if you will.

Lucasfilm

However, the acrimony in their marriage metastasized beneath a public façade in 1982 during production of the trilogy closer eventually titled Return of the Jedi. In hindsight, this arguably affected the flow of the film, which is widely believed (an admittedly anecdotal qualification,) to be the weakest and most out-there entry of those first three films. Unfortunately, the chemistry that conjured some of the most beloved and influential movies of all time unceremoniously dissipated upon their divorce and professional split, which was announced shortly after Jedi’s 1983 release. In fact, a frequently-cited reason for the also-divisive direction of George’s eventual tenure on the 1999-2005 Prequel Trilogy was that their production occurred against an untenably hierarchical situation, in which George bore unchecked power as director, writer and studio bigwig. Indeed, notwithstanding today’s newfound nostalgic love conveyed to the prequels, conventional critiques frequently point to convoluted plots, generally dry performances and artificial green screen aesthetics—aspects that conceivably could have been neutralized and/or salvaged by the splicing and advice of Marcia.  

Contextually, Marcia’s Star Wars excoriation, is being made nearly a decade in the aftermath of Disney’s 2012’s acquisition of Lucasfilm (and the Star Wars franchise as a whole) in a $4 billion deal that notably saw George capitulate any control he had over the franchise, business-wise and creatively. So, this is hardly a case of decades-preserved sour grapes being spewed onto an ex-spouse. Rather, it can be perceived as the case of the franchise’s de facto mother watching from afar as her child makes what she believes are terrible choices. In fact, she doesn’t mince words when addressing the elephant in the Sequel Trilogy room, Daisy Ridley’s Rey. While her status as the trilogy’s clear protagonist meant that she was destined to become a powerful figure, even proponents of the films have to admit that Rey’s rise was, in the very least, unnaturally quick, going from solitude as a scrap salvager on desert remote planet Jakku to besting the powerful scourge of the galaxy at his own game—something that took Luke Skywalker three films to achieve.

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Regarding Rey, she sounds off, “And they think it’s important to appeal to a woman’s audience, so now their main character is this female, who’s supposed to have Jedi powers, but we don’t know how she got Jedi powers, or who she is.” Marcia’s criticism is obviously destined to be met with opposition from the segment of the fandom that connected with Rey in a meaningful way. Yet, it is worth noting that Rey, by the end of 2015 sequel opener The Force Awakens, showcases an inexplicable preternatural ability in the ways of the Jedi, notably in the film’s climax, in which she—without any lessons whatsoever—picks up a lightsaber for the very first time to duel and defeat Adam Driver’s Kylo Ren, who—having been depicted as skilled and powerful throughout the film—had been trained in the Jedi arts throughout his entire life before his Dark Side turn. In conjunction with that, the scenes on the Millennium Falcon in which she is giving Han Solo advice on how to repair the ship has also facilitated claims of her being a “Mary Sue,” which refers to a know-it-all character without any substantive flaws, who is often a vicarious manifestation of the author.

However, the Sequel Trilogy initially seemed destined to laugh its way to the bank with the J.J. Abrams written/directed The Force Awakens going on to gross $2 billion worldwide, having tapped the well of nostalgia hard—so hard, in fact, that film’s structure arguably renders it a remake of the original Star Wars, a.k.a.  A New Hope. Yet, as one could expect from a sequel that’s 32 years in the making, the movie manifested as a passing of the protagonist baton from returning heroes like Harrison Ford’s Han Solo, Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia, Chewbacca, C-3PO and R2-D2 to a trio of new heroes in Daisy Ridley’s would-be Jedi Rey, John Boyega’s side-jumping former Stormtrooper Finn and Oscar Isaac’s heroic-but-cocky pilot Poe Dameron, along with a rounder-built droid in BB-8.

However, the trilogy’s follow-up films would suffer from storytelling that went in disparate directions, first with 2017’s The Last Jedi, which saw writer/director Rian Johnson make bold, but controversial changes in tone and plot developments, specifically regarding Rey, who, in that film, seemingly had her Chosen One status revoked when she learned her parents where just ordinary people. Tellingly, that film yielded a box office decline, which saw it gross $1.3 million worldwide. Consequently, upon the abrupt removal of the third film’s appointed visionary, Colin Trevorrow, Disney brought Abrams back for 2019’s The Rise of Skywalker, which retroactively rescinded those developments in lieu of a hastily-concocted climax that revealed Rey to be the granddaughter of a clone-resurrected Emperor Palpatine, who had been hiding behind the scene manipulating events the whole time. Additionally, she was given a pedantic, quasi-romantic connection to Kylo Ren as part of a “Dyad” of the Force. The result was a final box office whimper of $1 billion, cementing a steady decline that led to much soul-searching over at Disney.

“It sucks. The storylines are terrible. Just terrible. Awful. You can quote me—J.J. Abrams, Kathy Kennedy—talk to me,” says Marcia with an emphatic stamp. Yet, whatever one might think of the Sequel Trilogy, Rey or even Daisy Ridley’s performance, the bizarre malleability of her arc certainly boosts the point Marcia conveys about the weakness of her backstory. Indeed, the accelerated skills of a protagonist across multiple films (akin to Luke’s unexplained upgrade between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi,) can be a forgivable offense if said skills drive the story forward. However, in Rey’s case, it seems to be an example of a character being driven by what’s expedient to the story.  

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For now, though, the Star Wars franchise is taking a break from the big screen as the recent success of live-action Disney+ television series The Mandalorian will soon yield subsequent offerings like The Book of Boba Fett (which will arrive in time for Christmas), Obi-Wan Kenobi and Andor. However, a monumental comeback is set for the far horizon when the Patty Jenkins-directed Star Wars: Rogue Squadron eventually hits theaters, the first of more films on the docket.  

The post Why Star Wars Trilogy Editor Marcia Lucas Hates the Sequels appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2XAAucF

[talesofwight]

The Last Resort

((As I’ve had a week away from the computer and all things gaming-related really, I’ve had a lot of time to think about stories and stuff. And so I was really set on writing a little something out when I got back, and here it is! Took me a few hours. Sadly Tumblr doesn’t maintain the formatting I was trying to uphold. 

Also I guess a mild trigger warning for people that don’t wanna read violence and stuffs.

Still, it came out okay I think. Below the cut because I don’t wanna clog no dashes!))

'Hold 'er down!' Commanded a the highlander figure, garbed as a Captain of the Brass Blades in a voice almost as rough as the desert sands around them. 'Bloody bitch bites!' His nearby subordinate replied as he and another, both seemingly midlanders, struggled to hold a thrashing form down against the sun-baked dirt of Thanalan.

Brass Blades. The supposed peace keepers of the desertous region's city-state, Ul'dah. Corrupt and a mere shadow of what one who upholds the law should be. Here they were holding a squirming girl to the ground - couldn't have been a day past her sixteenth summer. Her clothes were shredded and her face was beaten and bloody, yet she railed against, and cursed at, the two men restraining her regardless.

The girl's resilience would've been impressive to the stranger in any other circumstance. He had a good view from the back of his chocobo - August. Typical. He thought bitterly to himself. As sad as it was to think, such things were not uncommon. She looked to be a refugee, likely had nothing to her name. Made her an easy target for a sick mind. Or three. He slowly drew the chocobo to a halt, the gesture prompted a curious 'kweh' from his steed. 'I'll be a moment.' He dismounted from the chocobo with a metallic clunk, his ash-grey plate armour glinting in the sun's rays, a long greatsword of wicked design hanging from his back, adding extra weight to the ensemble. He was slow to approach, fighting to keep the contempt from his face and voice as he called out. 'Surely this young one has committed a truly terrible deed to be handled so by you, three upstanding men of the Brass Blades, Ul'dah's protectors.' His words hung in the air as all three men suddenly ceased what they were doing and turned to look at the stranger, their expressions hidden behind the masked turbans they wore. Eventually, the captain strode forward a few steps, sizing up the sudden interrupter, spitting and placing a hand on the hilt of the scimitar which hung at his hip. 'Oh aye, that she has. Stole our good men's attention what they should've been giving to the patrol, ain't that right fellas?' The smugness practically dripped from him. 'Bloody whore, stop yer strugglin' if ye wanna leave here with yer life!' His subordinates had returned to holding the girl in place, the second mirroring the ugly words of the first. 'Away an' plough each other's arses, bastards!' The girl spat back. She had a fire in her. 'Right, well. As you can see, we've got the situation well in hand.' The captain picked up. 'Now why don't you get back on yer 'bo and be on yer way? Be a shame for a lone traveller to get killed by bandits, eh?' He grinned through his spindly moustache and soul patch, exposing crooked and rotten teeth. The stranger was still some few paces away, but he imagined they probably gave off quite the smell. 'That would be a shame. Though probably not quite so much as the three Blades that went out on patrol and were never seen from again.' He smiled dangerously back. 'Yer lookin' to start a fight, that it? Against the three o' us? Pah!' 'No.' 'So yer gonna leave?' 'No.' The captain stared on at him for several moments, only then freeing his sword from its sheath with a metallic hiss. 'Ah'm warnin' you, boy. Be off, or its yer head.' He sounded scared. Fear was just what he wanted. He raised a hand over his right shoulder, drawing his greatsword from his back with a far more menacing hiss, the blade tracing an arc in the air as it was brought into a readied position. 'Last chance!' The captain shouted. One of his two goons - the fatter of the two, he noted - stepped away from the girl and formed rank with his superior, drawing his own scimitar. Silence descended on the path once more, and off in the distance a wild bird soaring overhead let out a screeching cry. It all happened in a moment after that. The pair charged, bearing down upon the lone traveller. It was a decent strategy, but their movements were sluggish and slow. Probably already drunk. In that moment of their attack, the stranger remembed the age-old rule for fighting multiple opponents.

How do you kill a man on a battlefield? Cut through the man next to him.

And that is exactly what he did. Summoning to mind the anger at the sight he witnessed, he felt the surge of power flowing through his veins. It manifested as a black-blue flame that flowed from his chest to his sword arm, and into his weapon, causing the razor-sharp edge to take on a crespicule glow. He readied himself, and swung. The extended reach of his sword proved fiendishly effective as, it met the outer hip of the charging grunt. His steel flashed and cut through the chainmail armour as though it were paper. It tore through the man's chest in a diagonal direction, coming free at the shoulder, where it continued to travel. The look of shock and fear on the captain's face just barely had time to form before his head found itself hurtling through the air and landing with a wet thud, even before the two bodies had dropped, wetting the dry earth with two mixing pools of crimson. He exhaled a long breath, easing his stance though still bringing his sword back to the ready. Within a moment his cold, grey eyes had turned to look at the remaining Blade, struggling all the more to hold the kicking girl by his lonesome. Seeing that his comrades were soundly butchered, he exhibited the typical reaction. He reached for his belt and drew a knife, suddenly holding it to the girl's throat. 'D-don't come any closer, or else...!' He stammered. His hand was shaking. The girl stopped fighting suddenly, the look of anger fading to be replaced with fear. She looked helpless, and stared imploringly at the man who just killed two members of the law enforcement - their blood still dripping from the end of his sword. 'You're all alike. Always your last resort. Well I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm not here for her. I'm here for you. Even if she dies, you'll still be feeling the sting of my six fulm-long blade stabbing through your entire body. Do whatever you feel will ease your passing into Thal's realm. You have ten seconds. Ten...' 'W-wait... wait, please!' 'Nine.' 'Don't-- don't do this!' 'Eight.' 'I've a wife at home!' 'Seven.' 'You're a bloody monster--' 'Six.' 'No better than you think of me!' 'Five.' 'I don't want to die!' 'Four.' There would never be another plead from the Blade's lips. Fear washed over him like a wave. His hands shook uncontrollably, his teeth chattered and sweat poured from behind his mask. He abruptly dropped the knife, let go of the girl and turned to run. He made it three steps before the stranger raised his hand, summoning to mind the fear he inspired in the Blade, the threw his right hand forward. A surge of spiked, chaotic red energy flowed down his arm to his palm, whereupon it expanded into a series of circular runes floating around the wrist. A flash emitted from the center of his palm as a ball of churning red spikes flew at the retreating guardsman. An ilm before contact could be made the ball detonated, sending a hail of jagged spikes into the back of the now-stopped figure, slumping forward onto the ground and showcasing the extensive needlework that the dark spell had wrought. All was silent again.

'...Th... thanks fer savin' me...' The girl spoke quietly. 'I did say I didn't do it for you. He looked down at her, slicing at the air with his sword in one hand, spraying what remained of two Blades' blood onto the ground. 'That said, I might've told a lie. Gets them every time, though. He grinned, and for all the wickedness in that grin, it did little to hide his fair looks, even despite the large scar marring his brow. 'At any rate, you should get out of here as soon as possible. I can give you a lift if need be. August is good to carry two.' He strode up to the still midly shocked child and offered a gauntleted hand. She regarded him with trace amounts of fear - such was normal. He had grown accustomed to being looked at like that. Though as the moments passed the fear gave way to a smile. A wide, toothy grin that fit her freckled face perfectly. 'Yer 'bo is named 'August'? You some kinda prissy bugger?' She laughed. 'Would you think any less of me if I said I was?' He responded, a trace of humour in his own voice. 'Well... I suppose I'd let ye off the hook for it, just this once. Circumstances bein' what they are and all.' She reached out and took the offered hand, easily being pulled to her feet. She was light. Probably malnourished. The rags she wore were loose-fitting, so it was difficult to say for certain. 'My thanks for that. I'm Rufus. And you are?' 'Krysta! Ye know ye just murdered three Blades, right Ser Rufus?' 'I suppose that's how it seems. Though those men forsook their right to be called protectors of the people the very instant they tried it on. Azeyma only knows whether you were the first victim...' 'So what're ye supposed to be? Some big, true protector o' the innocent?' 'Something along those lines. I just don't have a lot of love for people that abuse their station to commit crimes, thinking they are untouchable.' 'Yer the weirdest knight I ever thought I'd meet, Ser Rufus. Still... I'm glad you came.' He gave her a smile as he guided her around the still-warm corpses on the roadside and along to his loyally waiting chocobo. Met with a 'wark' of joy to be reunited, Rufus first helped Krysta climb into the saddle, then taking up August's reins and walking out before the feathery steed, leading him. 'Where is home for you, Krysta?' 'Well...' 'Nowhere to go?' She slowly shook her head. 'Ma and Da're both gone. Can't really do much by meself. I'll prolly have to end up a strumpet just so I can get a good meal...' He frowned to himself, glancing over his shoulder at the saddlebag, hanging at the chocobo's flank. They kept walking.

They soon found themselves on the outskirts of Ul'dah, stood before the Gates of Nald, just a short way from Stonesthrow - so aptly named. Krysta looked uneasily at the settlement from the saddle. '...I don't wanna live in squalor like that...' She mumbled. 'You won't have to.' He led the chocobo inside the gates, guiding it and the rider off to the left of the busy avenue to the chocobo stables. With a gesture and some light assistance, he brought Kysta down from the saddle. 'So... what'm I supposed  to do?' The child asked, looking nervously at the huge walls now encasing them. 'You'll see'. 'That... doesn't give me confidence...' He reached within the saddlebag before August was led off to be fed, brushed and watered, producing a handful of long, razor-sharp fangs from it. He bundled them into his arms and turned, beginning to walk the opposite way across the avenue with many an adventurer and citizen alike. 'Keep up! Don't want you getting lost!' He called, and Krysta came running up to his side. The image must've looked odd to others, but he paid them little mind and kept walking. Across the avenue, he bounded up the steps that led to the Quicksand - Ul'dah's branch of the Adventurer's Guild. Also a den of sin and other unsavoury sorts. Not the type he was interested in dealing with. The room was abuzz with many drinking, talking loudly, and others seemingly locked in eternal silence. It always puzzled him. A few steps more brought him to the counter where leves were given. The attendant behind the desk sized him up quizzically, and then let out a light gasp as load of fangs were dropped onto the tabletop, the clatter drawing some attention from nearby patrons ever so briefly. 'From those basilisks that were pushing in from Northern Thanalan.' Rufus spoke confidently. The attendant looked overwhelmed for a moment, scrambling to find the leveplate to confirm the reward. 'Ah! Yes, right here. 2000 gil. Who knows what havoc those monsters could've wrought if not for you?' 'We'll never know, I suppose.' He smiled and reached out to take the offered pouch. He then stepped away from the counter and turned to Krysta, curiously surveying the pouch in his hand. 'Well, 2000 gil is decent. A good start. Ul'dah has cheap accomodation, and plenty of places that you can work and pick up skills. Take this, and make good on it.' Krysta's eyes suddenly shone. They were large, and as the realisation sunk in, increasingly wet with tears. She let out a rough sob, one that belied a greater pain beneath, and reached out to take the bag in both hands, which trembled. 'Y-yer really... gonna help a nobody like me...?' She croaked, taking a breath to steady herself. 'No one is a nobody. We're not all born equal in this world and sometimes... well, it doesn't hurt to give someone a hand. So I'm helping you. Find a start for yourself. Make your parents proud. I know the feeling.' Krysta gingerly nodded, staring in silence at Rufus for a good few moments. 'I wanna help folk, just like ye helped me. An' I will! Just ye wait and see!' 'I look forward to it, Kysta. Take care.' 'And ye... Ser Rufus.' They both chuckled and parted ways then, he to retrieve his chocobo and set out wherever his fancy took him, and her, off to start a new life for herself. Whether he would ever meet Krysta again or not, he wasn't sure. Life has many devious twists and turns waiting for us all. But she seemed to be made of strong stuff. He was just glad that his gamble on the knife-wielding Blade's last resort was right.