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tainted-wine · 4 years ago

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Evil Demonic Music

Priest!Reader X Demon!Present Mic

Hizashi has a large and filling feast on every Halloween night. He’s been doing it since before you were born. Yet here you are crashing his party while smelling like fresh meat in a den of wolves. It’s entirely your fault for throwing off his groove.

Disclaimer: Reader is more reminiscent of an action priest in a gothic action movie or anime. There’s little to no accuracy here. Lightning will most likely strike me the next time I venture outside.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, Christian Themes, Possession/Mind Control, Orgy, Public Sex, Sorta Corruption, Downer Ending

🎃👻🎃HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!🎃👻🎃

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Yuuei Club Presents “Dance With The Devil” Halloween Event LIVE Music by Present Mic Costumes Encouraged // Doors Open at 8 p.m.

It looked innocent enough; a graphical poster on the door of a building surrounded by smaller businesses in the outlet. It masked itself well in the daytime with its plain exterior, devoid of any attractive decorations save for the club’s name that glowed in hypnotizing neon when night falls. All of its temptations were contained inside, dormant until it was filled with careless souls seeking unholy pleasures.

You didn’t hate them for it. The temptation to sin is strong. It’s how evil thrives, and the average person lacks the strength to resist. It’s your duty to protect all people, even the faithless, from evil’s many devices.

Like this nightclub.

Party locations like these were an uncommon feeding ground, although now that you think about it, the muddled and vulnerable minds residing within should make for easy meals. The loud and nonsensical “music” and absolute lack of restraint that the people displayed was baffling, but your task is to guard souls, not convert and guide them back to Heaven’s path. One demon in particular, however, favored ‘party animals’ more than any other creature from the vile depths.

“Easy there! You glare at this place any harder and it might combust!”

To the average human, the monster that appears beside you is nothing more than a tall blonde man with an inviting smile, but he can’t hide himself from the blessed and perceptive. Beneath the guise of spice and incense, he reeks of smoke and brimstone.

Hizashi, as he called himself, will never fool you.

“Stay back,” spit nearly flies from how harshly you say the words. You know that he can’t harm you, not while you wear your cross around your neck and calmly hold thoughts of your Lord in your mind. Still, you warn the dangerous fiend to keep his distance.

He obeys and innocently raises his hands. “Hey hey, you know I’m not out to hurt you, and you’re not gonna pull anything with that crafty little weapon there, right?”

No, you weren’t going to take a stab at him with the blade hidden in your holy necklace. You tried it before, an attempt to drive it into his back when he wasn’t looking. His hand caught your wrist at a speed you couldn’t comprehend – you were certain that you didn’t blink, yet you didn’t even see him move at all. His friendly smile didn’t waver, not a hint of anger visible on his face.

“Careful, baby priest! Don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m way out of your league.” The warning wasn’t in his words, but in the heat of Hell itself that briefly washed over you, a sensation so powerful and real that you feared you were being dragged down that very instant. But the unseen flames died off the second he released your hand, eyes flashing a bloody red before returning to their usual emerald hues.

That was the first and only time you tried to banish him.

“I don’t trust you, but I’m not stupid,” was your answer, making sure not to let your hatred and disgust cloud your mind. He might take hold of that.

It was a satisfactory response, going by his bright beam of a smile. So friendly and inviting.

Months had passed when you finally accepted that he was a demon who genuinely enjoyed living alongside humans. He never spoke ill of your fellow men and commended them for their many ways of enjoying their short lives. Most demons you’ve dealt with favor negative emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger… those cold and bitter feelings attracted hellbeasts like flies to honey.

But this one? He fed on mortals that were as cheerful and carefree as him. All of this still wasn’t enough to convince you that he is truly gentle, however.

Hizashi stayed where he was, staring at his own promotional poster. The urge to leave was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him know how much he unnerved you with just his presence alone. Instead, you shuffle awkwardly and try not to utter prayers of protection. Whether or not that will anger him is something you don’t want to find out.

He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Are you pumped for the best night of the year? Man, Halloween never gets old for me, especially in this day and age. Everyone dancing while dressed like a bunch of monsters...it’s almost like I’m at home! Humans sure know how to party like tomorrow is The Cleansing.”

“Yes, and it’s shameful,” you humor him. “I have no interest in debauchery.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called having a good time, babe. Put the tome down and loosen up every once in a while.”

Put down the tome?

Loosen up?

Babe?

How dare he make you even entertain the thought of abandoning your teachings. You just know he’s trying to rile you up, to make you lose control. You won’t let him have his way. “I have my good times in moderation, on days when I praise God with my brothers and sisters with a glass of wine. There is discipline in everything, even celebration. Heathens simply get drunk and lose themselves in the madness.”

The demon chuckled as he ran his fingers through long golden locks. Just the beautiful sheen of his hair could probably attract the greedy. “Yep. Times sure do change, don’t they?”

“They don’t just change, they’re desecrated. What was once a day to ward off evil spirits now does the exact opposite. They’re too busy with their consumerism, candy, haunted houses…”

“Oh yeah, those haunted attractions are wild. So many of my buddies gorge themselves there. Free fear for the taking, ya dig?”

Despicable.

“And you don’t?” You test him. He was a conversationalist; a few probing questions won’t bother him, surely.

He withdraws his phone, scrolling through the screen for something. “Come on, you know me by now, don’t you? That sour stuff isn’t for me.”

“Forgive me for still struggling to trust you.” Sarcasm felt too risky, actually. You won’t use it again.

“Heh, no offense taken! You priests know just how cruel we can be sometimes. Mortals learned from the best, after all.”

Your lips twitch. His curve into a more wicked grin.

Every single passerby can’t seem to resist giving you odd looks. You can feel the eyes behind you as people make their way around the shops. Your garb wasn’t that strange; they’re acting like they’ve never seen a person in a robe and wearing several divine artifacts before. They would too if they knew what Hizashi was, who has yet to garner a single look of suspicion.

Ridiculous, his casual getup is actually fooling them. Perhaps the silly villainous mustache wasn’t big enough to give him away.

“Ah, here it is!” You nearly jumped from his voice and how quickly he leaned in, a video playing on his phone. “Just tap on the screen to play it an-”

“I know how to use a phone,” You hiss, taking the device from his hand and shooting him a glance every few seconds in case he tried something.

The video was chaos, an unsteady view of flashing lights and thumping heavy beats. Whoever held it was smack dab in the middle of an energetic crowd that sang and danced like barbaric animals. It was an orgy of overindulgence. Too much drinking with their comically shaped cups and bottles, too much lust in their crude excuse of a dance, and synthetic drums that dragged on for so damn long, even the beat sounded drunk. It’s not the first time you heard the horrid noise; it unfortunately appears to be popular among the masses.

God help these poor souls.

“Last year’s party.” Hizashi’s words cut through your thoughts. “Pretty hype, huh? Nothing gets my listeners goin’ like a hard trap beat!”

Oh? So he’s fully admitting it now? “So you’re calling it what it is, are you? Trapping them with your satanic melodies?”

The confusion on his face was very convincing, but you knew better. “What? No, that’s what the music is called.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Please, demon. What do you think sounds more believable: A genre of music with such a simplistic and misleading name, or evil tunes that your kind uses to ensnare unassuming mortals that don’t know any better?”

“....um…”

“I thought so.” To think that he’d slip up so easily. He wasn’t as clever as he thought. “Tell me what happened to the people in this video. Are they alive? Or did you drain them until they were nothing more than lifeless husks?”

There was a snicker behind you. Both you and Hizashi turned around to see a young man holding his phone up with an amused smile, giving a little wave after being noticed. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I really like your costume, miss. Your acting is awesome, too.” With that, he put away his phone and whatever images he now has of you and continued on his merry way.

Impertinent juveniles.

“Anyway, they’re all fine,” Hizashi said, eyes returning to the door while tapping his feet to a beat you can’t hear. “I know how to feed without causing any serious harm. Even if I do go a little overboard, they’ll just brush it off as having too much to drink.”

“It doesn’t matter how good you are at controlling yourself. You’re an evil entity invading human minds.” It takes every bit of strength to not flinch when he looks at you. Again, there’s no anger – there’s never anger with him – and it makes you all the more uneasy. Maybe a being as ancient and influential as him doesn’t find a novice exorcisor like you worth getting angry or even annoyed over. “Your stench will remain on those people forever, attracting more of your kind to them unless someone like me finds and cleanses them.”

He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Come on, your boy is doing his best here. What do you want me to do? Starve?” He considers what he just said for a moment before laughing. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Look, I ain’t leaving the stage, little priest. I’m addicted. The noise, the energy, the way everyone just loses themselves in all of it.”

The way his tongue peeks out to swipe over his upper lip has every hair on your skin sticking up.

“Man, I wish they knew just how sweet their own essence is when they’re caught up in the lights and music. Sweeter than any candy the kids will be bringing home tonight.”

He compares consuming pieces of a soul to children’s treats. “You’re really not helping your case,” you remark.

Another shrug. “C’mon, you say that like I actually have a chance at winning with you! I won’t hurt anyone in there. You have my word.”

You scoffed. “A demon’s word is-”

“Worthless, I know. See what I mean?” He withdrew a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Welp, I think we’ve stood here and stared at the door long enough. I gotta prep for the big night. Thanks for the company!” A few more seconds pass when he finds the right key and opens the entrance to the club.

You didn’t follow him inside. That would be careless.

Now it’s only you observing the building that will soon hold a giant living feast for the hungry monster. After another passing compliment about your “cool and authentic costume”, you figured you’ve stood around long enough. It was time to head home.

And find a way to keep everyone safe.

He was right; you have no way of getting rid of him yourself. That doesn’t mean you’ll stand by while knowing what danger these people will be walking into when night arrives. You’re not afraid to put your life on the line if it means protecting His children from the many evils on earth. When the first step of your plan takes root in your head, you change routes and make your way to the nearest costume shop.

Hizashi won’t be having his fill tonight.

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8:30 p.m.

You weren’t expecting to encounter two demons tonight.

Well, perhaps that term isn’t appropriate. There is no sort of aura attached to the dark-haired man that you can trace back to the pits of Hell, but he is undoubtedly a creature of evil. One that was birthed from the shadows, living for eternity by lurking in darkness and drinking the blood of any unfortunate mortal that catches his eye.

“I knew it. I knew someone so close to Hizashi couldn’t be human.”

The vampire at the lively club’s entrance didn’t seem fazed by your accusation. He wasn’t even hiding himself. The sly bloodsucker knows that his crimson irises and enlarged fangs will be mistaken for prosthetics. Very convincing prosthetics.

“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans.

You’re getting a little tired of these beasts brushing you off. “So what’s your feeding plan here? Waiting to find an innocent maiden who wishes to see the sinful wonders inside, then take her to the back and drain her dry?”

“Like you?” The smirk doesn’t reveal any teeth, but his predatory eyes are enough to make you step back and grip the cross that still hangs around your neck. Your reaction makes him chuckle darkly before he returns to his regular disinterested self. “I already ate.” That monster. “I’m here because Hizashi thought I’d make for good security.”

“So you intend to drink from anyone that steps out of line?”

“No.”

“Lies. Look here, vampire…”

“My name is Shouta.”

“...You and your friend won’t be preying on these naive humans for much longer. He told me about his trap music, but I won’t let his songs bewitch anyone tonight.”

He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked high up. “Alright...can you give me your hand already? There’s a line growing behind you.”

You look over your shoulder, and there is indeed a line of disgruntled people dressed as various monsters and characters. You have to admit that their costumes look to be of higher quality than the angel outfit you hastily bought in the store’s clearance section. The fuzzy headband for your halo was itchy and your flimsy wings were on the verge of falling off with every sudden movement.

With a glare that messaged him not to try anything, you cautiously extended your arm. He took your hand in his – deathly cold – and wrapped a thin paper tag around your wrist. “Have fun.”

You always hate it when you can’t read their smiles.

The suffocating darkness around him was lifted when you made your way to the same doors you were looking at with so much contempt this morning. Glancing back, you saw others happily complimenting his ‘spooky’ appearance, to which he responded with either a quick thanks or a grunt. None of them seemed to notice his chilling aura or ice-cold touch.

Why must they be so blind to the evils that walk beside them everyday?

When you stepped in, the music nearly blasted you back outside. So loud, but not like the angelic choirs during gospel. You didn’t feel lifted, you just felt bombarded by pure noise. A repetitive tempo made the entire building pulse like a heartbeat. This didn’t sound like the music Hizashi supposedly used to put the crowd under a spell. It just repeated the same forsaken beat over and over again. Perhaps the repetition is meant to ease the victim’s mind and lure them in a false sense of security, then those long rolling beats will come in next, ensnaring them when their guard is down. Clever, but not clever enough.

You passed the lounge and bar area, paying no mind to the lecherous behavior around you. Boisterous laughs, alcohol being carelessly chugged…

“Hey there, angel.” A man dressed as a superhero nearly tripped over his own cape in his attempt to approach you. “You as innocent as you look? I can introduce you to the boUUUURP.” The sudden belch burned your poor eyes with the stinging smell of rum.

Lord have mercy on both you and these savages.

“No thank you,” you said through gritted teeth and brushed past him. The lights and colors are disorienting. Strobe lights, spotlights whizzing across the walls and floor, and vibrant ever-changing shapes on every surface. The intoxicated folk probably welcomed the flashing chaos. When you drink at the church, your sips stay modest and controlled, ensuring to never reach the stage of drunkenness. If you were feeling ‘buzzed’, as they would say, this musical and optical discourse would likely feel pleasant, like entering a world devoid of rules and consequences.

Also known as a world of sin.

A huge mass of bouncing bodies covered the dancefloor, and there on an elevated platform, acting as an advanced musical throne, was the evil orchestrator of the chaos.

And those long curved obsidian horns were most definitely real.

Even as he tampered with the many buttons and dials before him, Hizashi moved as wildly as his prey, too caught up in his own infernal electronic hymns to even notice your presence. Surely your chaste energy sticks out among these wrongdoers like a dove in a pit of serpents.

You need to activate your blessing before he eats. Good thing the vampire didn’t bother to inspect your costume for any natural evil repellents that you happened to be carrying.

Your self-made pockets were filled with sage and rosemary, common herbs used to drive away demons and spirits. You sprinkle them onto the floor as you continue to make your way to the center, where your power will work most efficiently. Hopefully their scent will not be overpowered by the sweaty bodies and breaths laced with alcohol of all kinds.

Pushing through the dancing crowd was an arduous task. The music had since switched to something faster and more aggressive. The hectic sounds in this one was making you miss the boring but calmer tunes from before. You never considered what the sound of a robot vomiting would sound like, but it would probably sound similar to the cacophony of ‘whirs’ and ‘wubs’ that were assaulting your ears.

The mass was pushing and tossing you every which way. The variety of masks and makeup beneath the constant moving lights was rather frightening. Of course, you’ve dealt with plenty of real monsters, but it disturbed you to see your fellow man acting in such a frenzied matter in such a perplexing setting. You can see why Hizashi adored this environment. You couldn’t tell the difference between man and beast.

Straightening your halo, you decide that this spot will fare well enough.

Now it was time to apply holy water around your feet. Just a few drops of the blessed fluid will be enough to protect everyone here.

You close your eyes, ignore the many bodies bumping against you, and pray.

O Lord, protect me from temptation.

The water trickles out before you.

O Lord, forgive those who have been led astray.

“WOOOO SHIT! THIS IS MY JAM!”

The nearby exclamation makes your eyebrow twitch.

For we know that your power is greater than any evil.

The song is deafening, but you keep going.

Grant, O Lord, the protection fro-

Someone violently collides into you, knocking the bottle right out of your hands and rolling away to disappear behind the wall of stomping shoes.

Shit! Forgive my language, Father!

You elbow the fools blocking your way, ignoring the occasional “hey” or “watch it” during your desperate search for the most important tool against evil influences.

You didn’t even finish your prayer. You need to at least do that first, before it’s too late. Clapping your hands together, you shut your eyes again and moved your lips rapidly.

OLordprotectmefromtemptationOLordforgivetosewhohavebeenledastrayforweknowthatyourpowerisgreaterthanany-

“HERE COMES THE DROP!”

The rhythm and bass changed drastically, and with it came a powerful wave of raw exhilaration.

It’s like a force was injecting every positive chemical directly into your bloodstream. The abundance of newfound energy needed to be released, just like the tension that was released from that beat drop.

Your hips are swaying in a way you’ve never moved them before, and you can’t make them stop.

Stop! Stop, please! This is his doing!

“How are my listeners doin’ tonight?!”

The demon’s voice booms through the speakers, seeping into your ears and filling you with so much excitement that you can’t help but cheer with everyone else. Your senses feel simultaneously enhanced and dulled. The humans around you were out of focus, but the diabolical DJ up ahead was so clear, it’s like you were right in front of him. The hunger in his currently red eyes struck fear in you even as you danced.

“Woo, I’m lovin’ this energy! Thanks for coming by this Halloween, ya little monsters! Now...bring this house down!”

Your heart accelerates from the rush and you begin to jump in sync with the possessed crowd. Even the people standing by or sitting at the bars couldn’t resist, joining the growing horde on the dancefloor to jump in unison.

It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Not a care in the world. No customs, no praise. It didn’t give you that warm feeling of ascension. Instead you just felt...liberated.

No!

Struggling in the demon’s grip, you cleared your thoughts just enough to try to calm yourself and regain control.

Utter a prayer. Hurry. Focus. You need His protection.

‘Baby priest? Is that you?’

That is not the mighty entity you wanted to hear. The voice echoes in your head, impossible to escape. When your eyes open, you see that above the vast sea of faces, Hizashi is staring right at you.

‘I thought the dancefloor smelled a little weird! I was so busy feelin’ the beat that I almost missed you!’ You watched him laugh as he continued to violate your mind. Damn him. Wasn’t possessing you cruel enough? ‘Please, no prayers when I’m about to dig in. That’s gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. Just keep groovin’ like everyone else!”

Your limbs obeyed without your consent and followed the rhythm. This didn’t even sound like the music you heard in the video. Were you just foolish in thinking that he only used one specific sound to trap his victims?

With another change in the bassline, a heavier weight invaded, reaching right into the depths of your heart and tugging at your very soul. You know that fear will only make you more defenseless, but there was no fighting the terror that overtook you.

Not when a demon was feeding from you.

Your brain clashed with itself. You had to keep fighting, even as he stole a fragment of what your gracious Heavenly Father had gifted you and every human, but the cheerful voices implanted in your mind begged you to stop worrying and just give in already.

There was no stopping your movements or the unending rush that surged as strongly as the music. Only now, as he completely ignored your holy safety measures and tainted your soul as easily as the oblivious heathens surrounding you, did you fully understand just how great the differences in power between him and you were.

‘Whoa...holy shit.’

The breathless moan in your head made you shudder.

‘I haven’t tasted a human as pure as you in ages.’

“Please! You’ve already fed from me!” You scream out loud as the mob revels in the thrilling sensation of having a part of them sucked away. Your voice is drowned out by the music and shouts, yet you know that the horrid fiend can hear you loud and clear. “Just get out of my head!”

The dancing stops.

The music stops.

Everything stops.

It’s relieving to finally let your body rest from the forced celebration. The lights still flash and move in the dead silence. Every single person in all of their costumed glory turns and pins you with a sharp glare. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed over, consciousness elsewhere. Hizashi was in full control of all of them.

The demon himself looked down at you, no longer wearing his usual friendly and carefree smile. He was now showing the more twisted happiness you were used to seeing on his kind.

Crazed and eager to devour.

He spoke into the microphone on his headset, voice low and eerily calm. “Angel, you can’t just give me a sample of a five-star meal and expect me to not want more.”

The dread threatens to make you faint.

“Hey, none of that!” He laughs and switches back to his cheery tone. “I told you the negative emotions aren’t for me. I mean, a lady as sweet as you is gonna taste delicious either way. Why don’t you come on up here?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to flee from this entire situation that you foolishly believed you were ready for. You thought you could sneak into this age-old creature’s gathering and force him to go hungry for the night.

Cockiness treads horribly close to pride, and pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

You clearly didn’t have a say in the matter, what with your feet moving forward on their own. Every individual in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path from you to Hizashi’s platform. Their eyes never left, heads slowly turning as they watched you slowly climb the steps with legs that trembled from your resistance.

As he stood tall clad in leather behind the large mixer table, you noticed along with his sturdy horns, he also sported a black pointed tail that lazily swayed behind him. And his stench...the foul smell that would often make you crinkle your nose was replaced with a pleasing fragrance, like a sweet and fruity beverage. It was undoubtedly the work of his spell; everything about him has suddenly become tempting.

At this point you were wishing for the music to return so that you couldn’t hear your thunderous heartbeat as you stopped right in front of him. His hellish eyes observed you from head to toe, holding his chin between his fingers before shaking his head and smirking.

“Ya really couldn’t find a better costume?” He snickered as he got closer and fiddled with your cheaply-made gown. You avoided looking directly into his eyes, afraid of falling into the blood-red depths and never finding your way back out. “Or do you priests work on a budget?” He pauses when he notices the contents in your pockets. “Oh?” A hand is shoved inside and pulls out a handful of herbs.

“Aww gross! Sneakin’ herbs into the joint?” He winces from the smell before tossing them aside, leaving them to scatter into the unmoving group below.

How? His reaction should have been much stronger…

“Not that this stuff really works when I’m vibin’ in my element, but I’m hurt! I thought we had some trust!” He pinches your cheek, knowing that you’re unable to pull away. “And I thought you knew that I was way out of your league. You’re gonna need the big guns if you plan on keeping me away from my food.” The breath blowing into your face is abnormally hot.

There’s a layer of something otherworldly hidden in his tone whenever he emphasizes his words, like a filter poorly attempting to cover up a monster’s true guttural voice.

But once again, he switches back to normal, which does nothing to calm you. “But I’m not gonna get mad at some rookie that doesn’t know better, especially one as tasty as you!” Twirling around, he pushes a few buttons on the table that you didn’t even know where to begin to figure out.

“Sorry about the interruption, listeners!” He says to the crowd, cruelly acting like they have any ability to respond. They continue to stare blankly. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch things up a bit. Your boy is gonna be a little preoccupied during the next few tracks.”

The deafening silence is lifted with the start of a new song, and the people suddenly spring back to life, completely unaware of the mindless state they were in. Their only goal was to keep partying.

Your body was moving again as well, this time bobbing gently to the double and triple beats and low frequencies that vibrate through the floor and up your spine.

This...this was the type of melody you feared, and yet it didn’t affect you any more than the other songs. All of them were traps.

The only way you can think of fighting back is by filling your head with songs of praise. Keep your Lord in your thoughts. He will protect you.

“Tsk...angel, that stuff doesn’t work when I, ya know, already ate a piece of you.” His face tightened from hearing just a few seconds of the holy song in your head. “I told you, ya gotta loosen up a bit. You’re already dancing better than I thought you would!”

He paid no attention to his other prey, instead admiring your simple but energetic movements.

Then he began to move as well, shoulders doing a slow shimmy and following each of your steps with his own, moving closer and closer until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in.

He’s warm. Not burning or emitting an aura of terrifying darkness. The music suddenly feels softer, easing your fears. Like an intimate embrace.

“There, it’s not so bad, is it?” He says lowly, lips almost touching your face. “Quit thinking about your big daddy for once.”

You want to protest against the disrespectful nickname for your God, but he predicts your reaction and tightens his hold on your spirit.

“You taste so damn incredible right now, don’t mess it up,” he groans and savors you. With every part of you that is consumed, it becomes harder to resist. It would be so easy to just hold onto him and keep swaying like this, rocking back and forth as his hips press against yours, grinding into you.

The unfamiliar sensation startles you, but Hizashi shuts down your panic with a growl. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten.” he murmurs into your shoulder, breathing deeply to take in your scent. “I’ve been so hooked on the party life that I forgot just how heavenly innocents like you taste. To think that I’d have an actual priest dancing with me, tasting that revelry from such a pure source...pardon my blasphemy, but goddamn.”

You’re swimming through the fiery haze clouding your mind, clawing against it in a desperate search for an opening. But with every beat, the haze thickens and you sink further in.

You couldn’t find the light. No salvation.

More sinful feelings assault you from the friction of his groin against yours, a growing bulge rubbing on your most sacred area. It sends a foreign tingle down there.

“Ooooh, don’t think I can’t feel that, baby” he rasps, holding you so closely in a dance fitting for two lovers. “I can sense everything now that you’ve let me in.”

That angers you enough to find your voice again, just barely. “I didn’t let you in...” You tense from another hard grind. “Foul...beast.”

“Are you sure? You’re giving in pretty easily. It’s nothin’ to feel bad about, I promise. Humans aren’t built to resist life’s basic needs, so I don’t know why the big man in the clouds gets so wound up about it all the time.”

How dare he.

“Damned snake!” You force your hands to beat against him and push him off. “You will not corrupt me with the Devil’s words!”

He’s actually shocked for a moment, even to your own surprise, but he laughs it off. “Geez, my bad! I guess you are pretty persistent. Must be…” He grabs the cross around your neck, ignoring your horrified gasp. “...this.”

With a sharp yank and a pinch at the back of your neck, your one remaining object of holy protection is removed.

And with its loss, his influence completely overpowers you. The clearness of your senses switches on and off.

The music is muffled. It’s too loud.

The roaming lights are blurry. Too bright.

Are you still moving? Or is your body too heavy?

“It stings a bit, but that little thing can’t do much when the wearer’s already under my control.” An unfocused image of the demon tossing your precious necklace over his shoulder, the necklace you’ve held close to you since the day you first stepped into the cathedral and accepted your role as a righteous defender of man.

Your essence is now being stolen so quickly that it makes you shiver. He shouldn’t be taking this much.

“Mmm, I can’t get enough of this,” Teeth that are too sharp brush against your neck, threatening to pierce your skin. “I’m an old guy, ya know. I’ve done a lot of experimenting over the centuries, to see what I’m into.”

There’s a rip, and your gown is being pulled down along with your wings. It only relieves you from the growing heat of your surroundings.

“Y’see, our daddy isn’t a helicopter parent. He brings us into the world and just...lets us decide what to do. So no, my words ain’t the Devil’s words. They’re just mine, honey. I live for myself.”

Tilting your head, he presses his lips against your throat, making your breath hitch. No, your body is sacred. Don’t let him do this to you.

You don’t even know when the music had changed, but you’ve noticed the club was filled with a synthetic ambiance, the colors switching to magenta and cyan.

The party demon is so captivated by you that he doesn’t even acknowledge the change in tune. “I used to stalk the depressed. Wasn’t worth it, they were too bland.” He peppers kisses down to your collarbone. “I tormented scared paranoid folk. Fun, but it loses its flavor fast.”

Your bra is removed to expose your breasts to him and the entire populace within the building. Your heart races, but the synths don’t stop seeping into your ears, the bliss wrestling with your fear.

“Shh, don’t freak out. I’ll make sure everyone forgets everything that happened tonight.” He attempts to reassure you while massaging your newly revealed mounds. “So time went on as I treated my palate to different tastes. Wasn’t long before I realized my favorite vibes were the good ones. Festivals, games, a few buddies hangin’ out,” he lowered himself and flicked your nipple with his tongue. “Or a couple fucking, I ate all of it up. And after a while I decided that I just liked people in general.”

The pleasure felt when your breast is engulfed by the heat of his mouth is shameful. Hizashi moaned at your taste, though you weren’t sure if it was the taste of your flesh or your lust that was exciting him.

“I liked it when humans were having good times, so I figured out how to join in on the fun and damn, how do you guys keep finding new ways to rock out? The prudes keep droning on about how my favorite type of people have lost their way, but I think they’re the ones who found paradise, and they’re not even dead yet!” After nursing on both of your breasts, he rises and grabs your face to turn it toward the crowd. “I mean, just look at how these guys – oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed.

The people were no longer dancing. They were grabbing at each other, at men and women they probably didn’t even know, tearing apart clothes in a vicious urge to fornicate right there on the dancefloor. Some of them were already completely nude. You avert your eyes to stare at your feet instead.

Hizashi cleared his throat. “Whoops. Look what ya made me do, angel. My lust got the best of me!” He held you close while watching the horrid act before him. You’re trying to move your heavy arms to cover your bare body. “No wonder I’m feeling so horny. Think I should make them stop?”

It takes effort to nod your head.

His lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout before going, “Nah. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an orgy. I bet this is a first for you.”

Something tickles your hips, your eyes wandering over to see the arrow-like point of his tail curling around your white panties, tugging them down.

Part of you already knows that Hizashi is allowing you to struggle for his own amusement. With all of your protection gone, he can easily stop you from swatting at the flexible limb as it brings your final article of clothing down to your ankles.

Wearing nothing but the small strap around your wrist, you want so badly to curl up and hide yourself. You were completely bare on a stage with a demon quietly taking in your form. The contrasting feelings of anxiety and calm threaten to tear your psyche in half.

“Given how anal you guys are about chastity, I think it’s safe to say no one’s ever touched you before?” The way you tense tells him enough. “Alright alright, relax. I’m gonna make this easy for you.”

‘How? By letting me leave?’ You want to say, but your vocal chords aren’t cooperating.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, no. I told ya I know everything goin’ on in that head.” He grabs you by the shoulders and places you right in front of his mixer.

There were many suggestive sounds amongst the pile of writhing bodies before you. It was the most depraved sight that you’ve ever witnessed. These people may have been sinners for their immoral pursuits, but they were still victims of a wicked creature’s influence. You wish you could apologize to all of them for failing to protect them.

Slender fingers massaged your shoulders. “Ain’t it beautiful?” He whispers hotly into your ear. “I’m not that crazy about lust, but I can’t resist when it’s coming from someone like you.”

His aura has you shackled on the spot, unable to move or even tear your eyes away from all of the sex. His voice meshes with the increasingly sensual tunes, both him and the music putting you in a deep trance that leaves every nerve in your body extra sensitive.

You’re gently pushed to lean forward until your hands are supporting yourself on the table. The leather of his clothes pressed against your back is irritating, but easily overshadowed by the hands trailing down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“One of my favorite hobbies was hunting down faithful maidens like you. All demons love doing it, really. You can’t top raw innocence, it’s always a delicacy. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to fucking an actual angel. I managed to fuck an angel, and lemme tell ya, it’s a once in an eternity experience.”

He reaches your mound. There is still fear and an urge to pray, though it’s drowned out by the electronic harmony and all of the hot sex.

“Now she’s a fallen one that hangs out with me. Pretty little devil’s obsessed with sex now. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll give you a visit in your sleep at midnight.”

His fingers reach your untouched folds, making you gasp. You’ve never felt so much lubrication down there before. Was that normal?

“I was really good at the whole corruption thing, so good that I caught the attention of the big holy boys. They were toughies, gotta hand it to 'em. I decided to lay low after that little showdown. That was all a preeetty long time ago.”

The demon’s voice is background noise as you watch deplorable acts that you didn’t even know existed. One woman was taking a cock into her mouth while another man pounded into her from behind. A new male approached and grabbed her free hand, wrapping her fingers around him and encouraging her to stroke him.

Three men pleasuring themselves with the same woman. They were probably complete strangers.

The repulsive sight makes you wetter.

They sure were having fun.

Hizashi hums at your arousal, sinking a digit into your folds.

“Ah,” you choke on your own voice. His other hand plays with your breast again while you’re being penetrated for the first time. Some sort of flame was growing within you, burning and pleasing at the same time.

“I thought I’ve found my place. Going place to place and bringing in crowds who just want to forget their troubles for a day and groove.”

The finger pushes through your tightly clenched walls, or at least they try to.

“Fuck, relax a bit, babe,” he groans.

You do exactly that, giving him enough leeway to push in and out at a steady pace. You don’t think about the violation, only the strange friction that has no right to feel as good as it does.

“And then you come along,” An unexpected sharp thrust causes his finger to brush against a spot that fills your vision with even more blinding lights. “It’s not like I was after you or anything. You’re a solid negative ten on the threat scale, but ya just wouldn’t leave me alone!” He relentlessly hits the spot again, and again, until you’re crying out and your legs are shaking. “Then you waltz in here and try to ruin my favorite night of the year?

He’s able to hide his anger as he speaks, but fails to keep it from entering his possessed victims. The orgy becomes more violent, all of the people looking no more civil than savages in torn rags as they try to dominate and fuck each other senseless.

It affects you as well, going by how annoyed you’re getting by his rambling. Can’t he just focus on pleasing you?

His finger leaves you too soon, your cunt already missing the brand new sensations. “Sorry, babe,” he says when he releases you and begins to undo his pants. “Normally I’d spend more time warming up, but I gotta join in on the raunchiness now before I go nuts. Just...do me a favor.”

You whined, wiggling your hips and rubbing your ass against his freed cock. He only chuckles at your impatience.

“Slow your roll, I’ll get started as soon as you push that button riiiight there.”

You push one of the many glowing buttons, and stock phrases are shouted out of the speakers.

“No, the one next to it.”

You press it, and another song begins.

Hizashi hums in approval. “I usually do a smooth transition between songs, but…”

A hard impact knocks you forward with the overwhelming feeling of being completely filled all at once. The stretch and pressure has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“....Yeah, I just wanted to do that. And-” He yanks the halo off your head and drops it at your feet. “-I always loved the symbolism in that.”

He wastes no time building up. You’re being pounded as hard and consistently as the energetic beat. It should hurt, but the euphoric state of your mind dulls any pain and discomfort.

With the demon inside both your head and your womanhood, there was no saving yourself. Your prayers wouldn’t even be heard through this thick depraved fog.

“Oh fuck yeah,” He growls loudly with his wild thrusts, hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise. “I’ve been missing out. So hooked on the party life that I don’t even remember how it feels to eat up a modest little soul like this.”

Was he still devouring you? You can’t even tell, not while you’re trapped in this melodic dreamworld as his cock rams you.

“Ya mind if we do this again sometime?” He angled himself to ensure he was hitting that sweet spot with each rhythmic pump. Despite his aggression, his hips moved with musical purpose. “Not like you’re much of a priest anymore. You’re fuckin’ a demon, sweetheart. I think the pearly gates have closed for you.”

That sounds sad and all, but God does he feel good. The entire moment was feeling like a hallucination. Your world was saturated with fuzzy images and muffled bass as your virgin pussy was ravaged. The tightened heat in your core was growing hotter by the second.

Hizashi just wouldn’t stop talking even as he became short of breath. “Ah, don’t worry, my doors are always open to misfits!” His rhythm falters a bit when you give him an especially tight squeeze. “Ya like that? I can always wipe your memory of tonight along with everyone else’s, and you can head back home. I just don’t think your next visit to the house of God is gonna end well.”

How does he expect you to care with the way he’s plowing into you?

His arms wrap around you in an embrace. “No pressure, angel. You can decide later. For now, just enjoy the show.”

And finally, he shut up and focused on fucking your divine lights out.

With his pelvis flush against your ass, Hizashi humps with newfound vigor, his thrusts rapid yet precise enough to keep stimulating your most sensitive areas.

The blinding stars in your eyes make it impossible to even make out what’s happening in front of you. A shame, because you want to know if you’re being dicked down as good and hard as the whores on the dancefloor.

The demon may not be talking anymore, but he was still being very vocal about his pleasure with feral moans and growls right into your ear.

An extra hard slam forces you to nearly topple onto the controls, hands scrambling to keep you upright and hitting several buttons in the process.

A series of sounds and distortion effects are added to the song.

It unexpectedly riles him up. “Shit, that wasn’t a bad mix, angel. I might have a junior DJ in the making,” he praises.

The tempo changes - different speed and new layers - and Hizashi follows suit by switching his quick bucks into deep thrusts.

The fire inside was close to doing...something. You weren’t sure what it was or what exactly will happen if this lasts any longer, but part of you knows that it’s about to feel very good.

With the head of his dick striking you nice and deep, you quickly learn that you were right.

The explosion of spasms was too pleasurable to even comprehend, each contraction tearing filthy screams from your throat. Hizashi bursts soon afterwards and fills you up with a cry even more lewd than yours.

Just like that, your mind is freed and the weight of his aura is lifted...and you feel gravely tired.

A coldness sweeps over you and saps every ounce of your strength. You find yourself dropping to your knees and falling over as a distant voice expresses genuine worry.

“Oh.......I overfed.” Though it doesn’t sound as panicked as it should.

You don’t want to close your eyes. You fear that something terrible might happen if you do, but your eyelids are quickly becoming too heavy to fight.

“Really sorry, little priest! I didn’t mean to! Look at the bright side - my friends are gonna love ya down there! Home isn’t half as bad as those books make it out to be!”

Each word sounds fainter than the last, but you still catch each one.

Home?

Your eyes shut.

And the remains of your soul become stained with ash and black before heading downwards into the demonic realm.

Welcome home.

#smut #present mic #yamada hizashi #present mic x reader #broke: EDM is soulless #woke: EDM steals souls #tw noncon #tw death #tw mind control

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ladydarklord · 4 years ago

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The Mighty Boosh on the business of being silly

The Times, November 15 2008

What began as a cult cocktail of daft poems, surreal characters and fantastical storylines has turned into the comedy juggernaut that is the Mighty Boosh. Janice Turner hangs out with creators Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and the extended Boosh family to discuss the serious business of being silly

In the thin drizzle of a Monday night in Sheffield, a crowd of young women are waiting for the Mighty Boosh or, more precisely, one half of it. Big-boned Yorkshire lasses, jacketless and unshivering despite the autumn nip, they look ready to devour the object of their desire, the fey, androgynous Noel Fielding, if he puts a lamé boot outside the stage door. “Ooh, I do love a man in eyeliner,” sighs Natalie from Rotherham. She’ll be throwing sickies at work to see the Boosh show 13 times on their tour, plus attend the Boosh after-show parties and Boosh book signings. “My life is dead dull without them,” she says.

Nearby, mobiles primed, a pair of sixth-formers trade favourite Boosh lines. “What is your name?” asks Jessica. “I go by many names, sir,” Victoria replies portentously. A prison warden called Davena survives long days with high-security villains intoning, “It’s an outrage!” in the gravelly voice of Boosh character Tony Harrison, a being whose head is a testicle.

Apart from Fielding, what they all love most about the Boosh is that half their mates don’t get it. They see a bloke in a gorilla suit, a shaman called Naboo, silly rhymes about soup, stories involving shipwrecked men seducing coconuts “and they’re like, ‘This is bloody rubbish,’” says Jessica. “So you feel special because you do get it. You’re part of a club.”

Except the Mighty Boosh club is now more like a movement. What began as an Edinburgh fringe show starring Fielding and his partner Julian Barratt and later became an obscure BBC3 series has grown into a box-set flogging, mega-merchandising, 80-date touring Boosh inc. There was a Boosh festival last summer, now talk of a Boosh movie and Boosh in America. An impasse seems to have been reached: either the Boosh will expand globally or, like other mass comedy cults before it – Vic and Bob, Newman and Baddiel – slowly begin to deflate.

But for the moment, the fans still wait in the rain for heroes who’ve already left the building. I find the Boosh gang gathered in their hotel bar, high on post-gig adrenalin. Barratt, blokishly handsome with his ring-master moustache, if a tad paunchy these days, blends in with the crew. But Fielding is never truly “off”. All day he has been channelling A Clockwork Orange in thick black eyeliner (now smudged into panda rings) and a bowler hat, which he wears with polka-dot leggings, gold boots and a long, neon-green fur-collared PVC trenchcoat. He has, as those women outside put it, “something about him”: a carefully-wrought rock-god danger mixed with an amiable sweetness. Sexy yet approachable. Which is why, perched on a barstool, is a great slab of security called Danny.

“He stops people getting in our faces,” says Fielding. “He does massive stars like P. Diddy and Madonna and he says that considering how we’re viewed in the media as a cult phenomenon, we get much more attention in the street than, say, Girls Aloud. Danny says we’re on the same level as Russell Brand, who can’t walk from the door to the car without ten people speaking to him.”

This barometer of fame appears to fascinate and thrill Fielding. Although he complains he can’t eat dinner with his girlfriend (Dee Plume from the band Robots in Disguise) unmolested, he parties hard and publicly with paparazzi-magnets like Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse. He claims he’s tried wearing a baseball cap but fans still recognise him. Hearing this, Julian Barratt smiles wryly: “Noel is never going to dress down.”

It is clear on meeting them that their Boosh characters Vince Noir (Fielding), the narcissistic extrovert, and Howard Moon (Barratt), the serious, socially awkward jazz obsessive, are comic exaggerations of their own personalities. At the afternoon photo shoot, Fielding breaks free of the hair and make-up lady, sprays most of a can of Elnett on to his Bolan feather-cut and teases it to his satisfaction. Very Vince. “It is an art-life crossover,” says Barratt.

At 40, five years older than Fielding, Barratt exhibits the profound weariness of a man trying to balance a five-month national tour with new-fatherhood. After every Saturday night show he returns home to his 18-month-old twins, Arthur and Walter, and his partner Julia Davis (the creator-star of Nighty Night) and today he was up at 5am pushing a pram on Hampstead Heath before taking the train north to rejoin the Boosh. “I go back so the boys remember who I am. But it’s harder to leave them every time,” he says. “It is totally schizophrenic, totally opposite mental states: all this self-obsession and then them.”

About two nights a week on tour, Fielding doesn’t go to bed, parties through the night and performs the next evening having not slept at all. Barratt often retreats to his room to plough through box sets of The Wire. “It’s a bit gritty, but that is in itself an escape, because what we do is so fantastical.”

But mostly it is hard to resist the instant party provided by a large cast, crew and band. Indeed, drinking with them, it appears Fielding and Barratt are but the most famous members of a close collective of artists, musicians and old mates. Fielding’s brother Michael, who previously worked in a bowling alley, plays Naboo the shaman. “He is late every single day,” complains Noel. “He’s mad and useless, but I’m quite protective of him, quite parental.” Michael is always arguing with Bollo the gorilla, aka Fielding’s best mate, Dave Brown, a graphic artist relieved to remove his costume – “It’s so hot in there I fear I may never father children” – to design the Boosh book. One of the lighting crew worked as male nanny to Barratt’s twins and was in Michael’s class at school: “The first time I met you,” he says to Noel, “you gave me a dead arm.” “You were 9,” Fielding replies. “And you were messing with my stuff.”

This gang aren’t hangers-on but the wellspring of the Boosh’s originality and its strange, homespun, degree-show aesthetic: a character called Mr Susan is made out of chamois leathers, the Hitcher has a giant Polo Mint for an eye. When they need a tour poster they ignore the promoter’s suggestions and call in their old mate, Nige.

Fielding and Barratt met ten years ago at a comedy night in a North London pub. The former had just left Croydon Art College, the latter had dropped out of an American Studies degree at Reading to try stand-up, although he was so terrified at his first gig that he ran off stage and had to be dragged back by the compere.

While superficially different, their childhoods have a common theme: both had artistic, bohemian parents who exercised benign neglect. Fielding’s folks were only 17 when he was born: “They were just kids really. Hippies. Though more into Black Sabbath and Led Zep. There were lots of parties and crazy times. They loved dressing up. And there was a big gap between me and my brother – about nine years – so I was an only child for a long time, hanging out with them, lots of weird stuff going on.

“The great thing about my mum and dad is they let me do anything I wanted as a kid as long as I wasn’t misbehaving. I could eat and go to bed when I liked. I used to spend a lot of time drawing and painting and reading. In my own world, I guess.”

Growing up in Mitcham, South London, his father was a postmaster, while his mother now works for the Home Office. Work was merely the means to fund a good time. “When your dad is into David Bowie, how do you rebel against that? You can’t really. They come to all the gigs. They’ve been in America for the past three weeks. I’m ringing my mum really excited because we’re hanging out with Jim Sheridan, who directed In the Name of the Father, and the Edge from U2, and she said, ‘We’re hanging with Jack White,’ whom they met through a friend of mine. Trumped again!”

Barratt’s father was a Leeds art teacher, his mother an artist later turned businesswoman. “Dad was a bit more strict and academic. Mum would let me do anything I wanted, didn’t mind whether I went to school.” Through his father he became obsessed with Monty Python, went to jazz and Spike Milligan gigs, learnt about sex from his dad’s leatherbound volumes of Penthouse.

Barratt joined bands and assumed he would become a musician (he does all the Boosh’s musical arrangements); Fielding hoped to become an artist (he designed the Boosh book cover and throughout our interview sketches obsessively). Instead they threw their talents into comedy. Barratt: “It is a great means of getting your ideas over instantly.” Fielding: “Yes, it is quite punk in that way.”

Their 1998 Edinburgh Fringe show called The Mighty Boosh was named, obscurely, after a friend’s description of Michael Fielding’s huge childhood Afro: “A mighty bush.” While their double-act banter has an old-fashioned dynamic, redolent of Morecambe and Wise, the show threw in weird characters and a fantasy storyline in which they played a pair of zookeepers. They are very serious about their influences. “Magritte, Rousseau...” says Fielding. “I like Rousseau’s made-up worlds: his jungle has all the things you’d want in a jungle, even though he’d never been in one so it was an imaginary place.”

Eclectic, weird and, crucially, unprepared to compromise their aesthetic sensibilities, it was 2004 before, championed by Steve Coogan’s Baby Cow production company, their first series aired on BBC3. Through repeats and DVD sales the second series, in which the pair have left the zoo and are living above Naboo’s shop, found a bigger audience. Last year the first episode of series three had one million viewers. But perhaps the Boosh’s true breakthrough into mainstream came in June when George Bush visited Belfast and a child presented him with a plant labelled “The Mighty Bush”. Assuming it was a tribute to his greatness, the president proudly displayed it for the cameras, while the rest of Britain tittered.

A Boosh audience these days is quite a mix. In Sheffield the front row is rammed with teenage indie girls, heavy on the eyeliner, who fancy Fielding. But there are children, too: my own sons can recite whole “crimps” (the Boosh’s silly, very English version of rap) word for word. And there are older, respectable types who, when I interview them, all apologise for having such boring jobs. They’re accountants, IT workers, human resources officers and civil servants. But probe deeper and you find ten years ago they excelled at art A level or played in a band, and now puzzle how their lives turned out so square. For them, the Boosh embody their former dreams. And their DIY comedy, shambolic air, the slightly crap costumes, the melding of fantasy with the everyday, feels like something they could still knock up at home.

Indeed, many fans come to gigs in costume. At the Mighty Boosh Festival 15,000 people came dressed up to watch bands and absurdity in a Kent field. And in Sheffield I meet a father-and-son combo dressed as Howard Moon and Bob Fossil – general manager of the zoo – plus a gang of thirty-something parents elaborately attired as Crack Fox, Spirit of Jazz, a granny called Nanageddon, and Amy Housemouse. “I love the Boosh because it’s total escapism,” says Laura Hargreaves, an employment manager dressed as an Electro Fairy. “It’s not all perfect and people these days worry too much that things aren’t perfect. It’s just pure fun.”

But how to retain that appealingly amateur art-school quality now that the Boosh is a mega comedy brand? Noel Fielding is adamant that they haven’t grown cynical, that The Mighty Book of Boosh was a long-term project, not a money-spinner chucked out for Christmas: “There is a lot of heart in what we do,” he says. Barratt adds: “It’s been hard this year to do everything we’ve wanted, to a standard we’re proud of... Which is why we’re worn to shreds.”

Comedy is most powerful in intimate spaces, but the Boosh show, with its huge set, requires major venues. “We’ve lost money every day on the tour,” says Fielding. “The crew and the props and what it costs to take them on the road – it’s ridiculous. Small gigs would lose millions of pounds.”

The live show is a kind of Mighty Boosh panto, with old favourites – Bob Fossil, Bollo, Tony Harrison, etc – coming on to cheers of recognition. But it lacks the escapism to the perfectly conceived world of the TV show. They have told the BBC they don’t want a fourth series: they want a movie. They would also, as with Little Britain USA, like a crack at the States, where they run on BBC America. Clearly the Boosh needs to keep evolving or it will die.

Already other artists are telling Fielding and Barratt to make their money now: “They say this is our time, which is quite frightening.” I recall Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, who dominated the Nineties with Big Night Out and Shooting Stars. “Yes, they were massive,” says Fielding. “A number one record...” And now Reeves presents Brainiac. “If you have longer-term goals, it’s not scary,” says Barratt. “To me, I’m heading somewhere else – to direct, make films, write stuff – and at the moment it’s all gone mental. I’m sort of enjoying this as an outsider. It was Noel who had this desire to reach more people.”

Indeed, the old cliché that comedy is the new rock’n’roll is closest to being realised in Noel Fielding. Watching him perform the thrash metal numbers in the Boosh live show, he is half ironic comic performer, half frustrated rock god. His heroes weren’t comics but androgynous musicians: Jagger, Bowie, Syd Barrett. (Although he liked Peter Cook’s style and looks.)

“I like clothes and make-up, I like the transformation,” he says. Does it puzzle him that women find this so sexually attractive? “I was reading a book the other day about the New York Dolls and David Johansen was saying that none of them were gay or even bisexual, and that when they started dressing in stilettos and leather pants, women got it straight away with no explanation. But a lot of men had problems. It’s one of those strange things. A man will go, ‘You f***ing queer.’ And you just think, ‘Well, your girlfriend fancies me.’”

The Boosh stopped signing autographs outside stage doors when it started taking two hours a night. At recent book signings up to 1,500 people have shown up, some sleeping overnight in the queue. And on this tour, the Boosh took control of the after-show parties, once run as money-spinners by the promoters, and now show up in person to do DJ slots. I ask if they like to meet their fans, and they laugh nervously.

Fielding: “We have to be behind a fence.”

Barratt: “They try to rip your clothes off your body.”

Fielding: “The other day my girlfriend gave me this ring. And, doing the rock numbers at the end, I held out my hands and the crowd just ripped it off.”

Barratt: “I see it as a thing which is going to go away. A moment when people are really excited about you. And it can’t last.”

He recalls a man in York grabbing him for a photo, saying, “I’d love to be you, it must be so amazing.” And Barratt says he thought, “Yes, it is. But all the while I was trying to duck into this doorway to avoid the next person.” He’s trying to enjoy the Boosh’s moment, knows it will pass, but all the same?

In the hotel bar, a young woman fan has dodged past Danny and comes brazenly over to Fielding. Head cocked attentively like a glossy bird, he chats, signs various items, submits to photos, speaks to her mate on her phone. The rest of the Boosh crew eye her steelily. They know how it will end. “You have five minutes then you go,” hisses one. “I feel really stupid now,” says the girl. It is hard not to squirm at the awful obeisance of fandom. But still she milks the encounter, demands Fielding come outside to meet her friend. When he demurs she is outraged, and Danny intercedes. Fielding returns to his seat slightly unsettled. “What more does she want?” he mutters, reaching for his wine glass. “A skin sample?”

#I hadn't seen this one before so I thought I'd share #noel will never dress down #ah yes the patient boyfriend Julian Barratt

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ectonurites · 4 years ago

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My least favorite type of fic!Tim is when he’s portrayed as depressed/very mentally and emotionally unstable, but also at the same time as someone who is like lauded as being super dangerous/the most skilled or something like that?? Those fics where Tim is chugging caffeine and barely sleeping, but characters are still like “oh I wouldn’t wanna piss off Tim he is Dangerous” and that’s annoying enough but then there are fics that at the same time as that portray him as like on the edge of a breakdown. It’s very irritating even if I’m not sure I can articulate exactly why, it just really rubs me the wrong way. Like, I definitely do think Tim has some issues with depression and stuff, but in fics like those it’s treated more like a quirk sort of instead of a serious issue

LMAOO I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT i’m not a fan of that either. I’m apologizing in advance if I sound mean in any of this critique i’m about to give of that fanon version of him. I want to preface this by saying that people can write whatever the hell they want, like, they’re allowed to! And I’m not referencing/calling out any specific works here. Just trends. But I’m gonna bitch about some things I’ve noticed that annoy me, personally. (so again, not saying other people can’t enjoy this stuff! just. not for me)

so like sorry if im mean but this is just me ranting and also this is my blog anyways so:

(nobody take this as an attack on them please because it’s really not)

The problem is a lot of those fics seem to interpret Tim’s behavior in Red Robin (& especially like that last whole arc of his Robin run also by FabNic) as if that’s his normal, rather than the result of a few years of CONSTANT traumatic incidents pushing him to a breaking point (because while all the shit he went through with his Dad, Steph, Kon, Bart, and then Bruce dying was spread out over several years for us as readers, it’s regarded as like within two years in canon! It all happens when he’s 16 and 17. According to the Batman comic right after War Games, Jack was murdered only days after Steph died.

(Batman #634)

That’s a LOT to process for one kid jesus christ)

I love Red Robin honestly, I do, but it is about Tim at the lowest points in his life. It’s the grand finale of Tim’s story, and everything crumbles, that’s kinda the point! The end leaves him in a position to either rebuild himself or fall apart. It’s all about how he chooses to continue after this point!

(Red Robin #26)

The way he acts and the things he does in that comic should be regarded as such. He can’t live the way he does in Red Robin forever or he will literally burn himself out/become something unrecognizable, like, jesus it’s kinda even acknowledged in the comic when he thinks about what his potential futures would be if he keeps it up like he’s doing:

(Red Robin #25)

He sees himself as dead, as Batman (which he has countless times said he doesn’t want to be and at this point in his history almost every time he’s seen a future he became Batman in he had become a killer), or needing to retire and taking over an Oracle-esque role, likely because he exerted himself too much to continue.

When you look at him around this same timeframe when he’s not isolating himself/too deep into the mission and is instead working with his friends back on the Titans, you can see that he is starting to heal and work in a more positive direction. He’s choosing to work on coming out of this rough period by being together with his friends who he loves.

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

Not to say that you can’t write about situations in which he doesn’t start to come out of it, but if you are doing so it’s something you should be taking seriously because that’s the idea you want to explore, not just acting like it’s perfectly okay or normal? (And again, there are a lot of works that do explore it in good ways, there’s just also a LOT that don’t)

Like, so much content I see just make any sadness and depression and tendency to over-work himself that’s rooted in his traumas (which! those do have a basis in canon!) into a quirky personality trait rather than a response to trauma. Acting as if he’s always been this way and it’s normal for him. That’s what bothers me. If people want to seriously explore the effects of all these incidents and how that plays into his ability to do his job as a hero, then hell yes do it! But when it all gets brushed off as ‘oh thats just tim, he just doesnt eat or sleep or feel any happiness but like its fine he’s just always been like that’ I feel my blood boil.

This also often strikes me as related/tied to fanon’s seemingly never-ending quest to make Tim into this victim of so many things he really wasn’t. They make his childhood 10x worse than it actually was (yes he was lonely because he was sent to boarding schools rather than having his parents around, but he was NOT just left home alone all the time as a child.

(Batman #441)

He snuck away during a school vacation week to follow Bruce one (1) time and to then track down Dick. This is established in his introduction story! PLEASE read Lonely Place of Dying!) and it just... going with those fanon assumptions as being true changes so much of how people characterize him!

Some people will also (not to call out tim/kon shippers especially because I literally am also one but) vilify the shit out of Steph and make their relationship out to be some abusive thing rather than just... a messy teen relationship between vigilantes because they had really complicated lives and baggage with one another? Which they both acknowledge they made mistakes in!

(Red Robin #10)

Or people will vilify the shit out of Dick in regards to the situation at the start of Red Robin, or literally just make anyone who Tim ever had a disagreement with out to be the bad guy despite the actual situations always being way more complex and multi-faceted than that.

And then on top of all that, aside from making him into this ‘im broken 24/7 and not doing anything to fix it also everyone around me is terrible to me’ type of character, because he’s a lot of people’s favorite, they also want him to be as cool and strong as he is at his high points. So they’re projecting all this stuff onto him that makes him what should be a barely functioning person but then also act like that’s fine and he’s able to be a dangerous badass on top of it.

Like I’m sorry but someone who is going out and actively acting as a vigilante like that which is incredibly physically taxing is NOT surviving on coffee alone and no sleep. That’s literally not possible, he’d fucking collapse. (And like, again, if you want to explore him pushing himself to that point, that’s one thing! but acting like he can manage all of that for more than a few days at a time/maybe while working on one really tough case is nuts!) and like, even canon can be a little guilty of this type of thing particularly since the New 52 (Detective Comics 2016 had more than a few references to him barely sleeping, but at least they also made references to him eating normally/healthily and he wasn’t completely self isolating or anything) (and also that comic had him be so self sacrificial he was ready to die to save everyone and only didn’t die because of Mr.Oz’s interference, he’s definitely not in his best place there) but usually it’s still within some realm of possibility.

Also like. The fanon ‘chugging coffee to survive thing’ just annoys the shit out of me because, like, yes there’s a few moments in canon where he’s under a lot of pressure and pushing himself further than he normally would and had some coffee (one of the only times I can even remember him having it on panel is... oh... during that last Robin arc I just mentioned a little while ago shouldn’t be where you source your normal characterization of him because it’s a very difficult situation that pushes him further than he normally would go! huh!) But the thing is like, people play it off for laughs, or like it’s a normal thing he would do at any time in his life! If you want to explore him pushing himself and using coffee as a crutch, like, there’s ways you can write it that takes it seriously, but almost every time I see it come up in fics it is like a core part of his personality and just ‘oh haha silly tim always with his entire pot of coffee he must chug every morning or he’ll die :^)’ And that bothers the hell out of me.

In general it’s just... people treat Tim so weird. They want him to be so many different things that he’s shown himself to be at different times for very specific reasons, except they want him to do all of it at the same time which just doesn’t work. A person can’t function like that, and it’s not even close to who he is in canon.

Again, people can do what they want, and this is just my opinion obviously, but yeah. My two cents on the matter. Read Lonely Place of Dying, read Young Justice, read his Robin run. Read his comics and get a feel for who he was before all the rest of his trauma, and see how he canonically reacts to it along the way. I know reading comics can be tough for some people but so much stuff just echo chambers and becomes barely recognizable in this fandom and it’s just... a shame when it happens with a character ya love.

#Anonymous

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years ago

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Marvel’s Dobson: Infinity PTSD

In case you wonder why I personally think Dobson is an idiot, here is one (of many) reason(s): Dobson takes the wrong things way more serious than he should.

On one hand, he will belittle people e.g. to think about the new Pokemon starters more than about current events in real life…

But then he will also throw fits at something like a silly add slogan by Burger King, calling it sexist crap and that the company should be ashamed of it.

Belittle lesbian teenagers for not taking “KorraSami” as something serious and progressive as he does…

Or in case of Marvels “Infinity War”, believe that the movies ending would be ptsd inducing.

I am not kidding. What you see here is a tumblr post Dobson made up shortly after he watched Infinity War in May of 2018, making it known that he is scared that the movie could be traumatic for people on a global scale.

Which was laughable back then and is even more so in the year 2021, when we actually go through a global trauma in form of Covid-19. Making me also believe, that Dobson, despite claims of suffering from depression and his own form of PTSD, has absolutely no idea what a trauma really is and that despite all his whining over the years, he must have one of the most privileged and easiest lives on the planet, if he thinks a superhero movie is going to be as traumatizing as certain real world events. At least the way the post is worded implies, that Dobson seriously believes seeing Spiderman and other Marvel heroes bite the dust (so to speak) has the same effect as e.g. witnessing 9/11 play out live or being involved in an actual war.

Don’t get me wrong, I know of the reactions people had at Infinity War and the infamous Snap scene. I myself was in a theater where a bunch of kids started to cry when Starlord died. And I do understand that reaction. Because unlike Dobson, I am not just using my brain to whine about things not pandering to my fetishes.

I know, that the MCU and its characters have grown on people over the years, myself included. So when we as an audience watch the world and characters we care about get destroyed as Thanos does to Knowhere, Gamora and so many more, we have an emotional reaction to it. I myself was not distraught, but genuinely surprised that when Thanos snapped his fingers, as many heroes died as we saw on screen. Sure, knowing the comics and that Infinity War was just part one of a two part Avengers Finale of phase 3, I knew the snap would happen. In fact, I even hoped for it to happen, cause I love badass villain moments and Thanos was a favorite of mine long before the movie. Not because I am a space fascist, but because I enjoy threatening villains and stakes in my stories, unlike certain people.

I just didn’t expect that after all the hype Marvel created for certain heroes over phase 2 and 3, especially Black Panther, they would do something as “radical” and kill as good as 95% of all heroes introduced in phase 2 and 3 off. Wakanda forever? Not according to this movie.

But I digress. Point is, I will give Dobson the following: Yes, the movie’s ending has obviously caused people to have a sad emotional reaction to it, because at the end of the day, we will react with sadness when we see someone we care about die. But guess what: So have many other movies over the course of cinematic history.

Do I really need to remind people (and by people I mean braindead idiots) of stuff like Jack dying at the end of Titanic and watching the ship sink, Mufasa being thrown off a cliff, that one horse from Never Ending Story in the swamp, certain scenes of “Who framed Roger Rabbit”, that scene of the dog put down in “Marley and &Me” and so on? You know, stuff most of us remember as having watched in our childhood only for us as adults to joke how this shit traumatized us?

Okay, it may have at least to some degree in so far as that we remember those movies in parts because of those scenes. I think there have been a few kids not wanting to go into the water to swim for quite some time after watching Jaws. But guess what: Most people get over stuff like that, because somewhere down the line they realize it is just a movie or that those sad/scary parts are actually in their own way “fun”/good and helped us appreciate the story we watched even more. And all Infinity War is, is just another movie in a long line of such flics, while also being the culmination of a decade long multipart movie project by Disney to get the most profits out of superhero movies possible.

Furthermore, I doubt there is or ever was going to be everlasting damage, seeing how “Endgame” was going to happen anyway and has been out for almost two years. Meaning all the “drama” of Infinity War in 2018? Dealt with. All the people that turned into dust are alive again and well thanks to the Dragon Balls- I mean Infinity Stones, which is more than can e.g. be said about Bambi’s mom. So if your kid starts crying because Thanos won when you let them watch Infinity War? Make sure to put Endgame in almost immediately to show them their heroes are not dead. Just hope the kid is not a fan of Iron Man or Black Widow, cause they are the only superheroes of the bunch who are going to join Old Yeller and Co in the everlasting realm of fictional character deaths to “fuck up” your kids.

Which btw is the other thing worth pointing out: See, I can imagine kids having the most negative reaction to watching the Snap play out. Because most kids will not know as many media as adults and are on average not exposed to as much violence or “traumatic” events in the stuff they watch/consume or in real life (hopefully). And lets face it, Infinity War has some “brutal” scenes in it. Thanos choking Loki, Thanos getting stabbed, Thanos getting an axe in his torso, Thanos throwing Gamora of the cliff, everyone getting blown with the wind etc.

But the way Dobson words it, he believes that adults too will react to it negatively, to the point they may need therapy. To which I say, no. If most children can deal with Infinity War, so will even more adults. Personally I think the only person “traumatized” by Infinity War was Dobson himself, because if his history in regard of movies and media he consumes is any indication, he is a pantsy who likely pisses his knickers at animated Halloween specials despite being now almost 40.

Even others called him out on it, but Dobson, the manchild that he is can’t acknowledge that he may have overreacted to it and still believes this movie is a horrifically traumatic experience, based on some youtubers overreacting for the sake of clicks.

Last but not least, where was that kind of reaction by Dobson when Man of Steel came out? You know, the movie where the fight scenes in Metropolis were actually called out by many people in the media of being triggering for people who experienced 9/11.

Seriously though, if Dobson thinks Infinity War’s ending is traumatizing, I just have to ask the following things:

a) how many mainstream western comics has he actually ever bothered to read, cause on average even worse shit can happen in them to heroes than seen in Infinity War (just ask people who read “Cry for Justice”)

b) if Infinity War is already that traumatizing for you, how did you expect to ever be a decent story creator yourself, cause obviously you can’t see characters actually suffer? Except of course when they are straight males abused by redhead pirates.

c) Just as a personal opinion: Better turn into dust than to be inflated and popped, Catty!

#marvel #infinity war #mcu #Andrew Dobson #so you are a cartoonist #adobsoncomic #adobsonartworks #adobsonartwork #seriously?#what a manchild #ptsd #Tom Preston

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catcomixzstudios · 3 years ago

Note

for the meme: 4, 5, 44 and 45

God DAMN, Clockie, you're quick. Thank you!

===

4. A character you rarely talk about? WHERE DO I EVEN START? Most of the ones I'd pick are usually characters who haven't shown up yet in my stuff, so of course talking about them would be spoilers. That includes the characters in my Next Big Comic.

In the last few days, though, I went on a binge of creating tabletop characters I can use for games.

They come in Serious: - "I am the last of a crafted race designed for destruction, and do not share those goals... but I hold the key for potentially bringing back my people anew" - "I used to understand magic but now I think some Powerful Source has... replaced my magic?? Taken it over??? Also my home has been hit with some kind of blight and I'm terrified to think I might be connected to it" - "Hello!!! We am a gentle hivemind being. We're a powerful warrior, yes, but we would prefer whenever possible to resolve things peacefully. Fortunate favors us not, however, as we are dying from a rare illness we are unable to treat. We hope to find a cure/treatment on our journey"

But since I'm me, the concepts also come in Silly: - "I'm from a warrior people but I actually prefer to get in arguments rather than physically fight" - "Hey hi I think I took a wrong turn somewhere because I'M NOT FROM THIS DIMENSION" - "I don't actually know how magic works, but I think it'd be dope as hell if I could make literally everyone in the world magic" - "I'm a little plague doctor doll willed to life! I'm a surprisingly good medic despite not really understanding how the bodies of organic beings work!"

===

5. If you could make only one of your OCs popular/known, who would it be? I'd say Trinity, but I'm pretty sure she's the most popular of my characters so far, so honestly, that works for me.

===

44. Something you like about your OCs in general One aspect of my character creation process in just about any series is including at least one very small detail that I myself can relate to. Not necessarily agree with or have personally experienced, but something that gives me a connection point for getting in their head. IMO, it breathes a little bit more life in them.

===

45. A character you no longer use? Most of the cast from the comic I did before KttFF, Cat Comixz, managed to make the cut into the follow-up series, if only in cameos or smaller roles. While I still have a potential thread connecting Atelia to KttFF, her role was DRASTICALLY reduced.

In one of the early drafts of KttFF, Atelia was going to be the one that kills Leon in the original timeline of events. That's what the whole Assassins thing (which I stole whole cloth from Assassin's Creed, obviously) was meant to lead up to. Ya know, for the DRAMA.

Buuut for a multitude of reasons, I dropped that idea. And now she's at best circumstantially related things now. Honestly, given what I originally had planned, I think this was the better call.

#ask gage #radioactivesupersonic #key to the futures fate #kttff #ocs #tabletop

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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January 24, 2021: Speed Racer (Epilogue)

When it came out, Speed Racer wasn’t exactly criticially acclaimed. The Rotten Tomatoes summary for the critical response is as such:

Overloaded with headache-inducing special effects, Speed Racer finds the Wachowskis focused on visual thrills at the expense of a coherent storyline.

And, I mean:

Part of that criticism is understandable, let’s be honest. But how about the rest of it? Well...

Recap

Cast and Acting

I’ll be honest, Emile Hirsch is only OK as Speed Racer. I mean, he certainly isn’t bad, but I also can’t call him an acting dynamo in this one. This probably has to do with the writing and the direction, but he was still just fine; not much more than that. Christina Ricci, John Goodman, Susan Sarandon and Matthew Fox, on the other hand, all definitely take this very seriously, and pour some serious acting chops into their roles. Even Goodman, who as one point has to seriously say the word “non-ja” - yes, really - really gives it some fatherly energy that the role demands. Color me impressed! Roger Allam, too, deserves praise for REALLY pouring on that corporate supervillain energy, like he came right out of comic books. Like I said in the recap, he really channels Tim Curry-caliber acting here, and as over-the-top as that is, it’s fun to watch! Every other actor basically plays their roles as if they’re in a live-action cartoon. Which, to be fair, they are. So, for all of that, we’re going with a 7/10. Oh, and Paulie Litt as Spritle? That kid is goddamn annoying...which is the point. So, yeah, pretty great job to him, I guess.

Plot and Writing

Plot’s about as typical as you can get for this kind of movie. Honestly, if you were to ask me to draft a Speed Racer film script, it’d probably exactly this movie. And...yeah, that’s entirely fine, I don’t really see any issues with it. Writing is silly at times, and rarely ever profound, but again: you kind of get what you pay for. For what they were given to work with, the Wachowskis (yes, they also wrote this bad boy) did fine. 6/10?

Directing and Action

...8/10. I-I can’t believe it, either. Yeah, um, the racing scenes, the shots, all of it? It’s stellar. This might be a living cartoon, but GODDAMN do they lean into that well. Nothing else to say here, the Wachowskis were clearly the right choice here. My only complaint is that I wish this movie was ENTIRELY in CGI, to be honest. I think the movie actually suffers from being in live-action at all. THat’s why this score isn’t perfect.

Production and Art Design

This one, however, is an unabashed 10/10. Because from the cars to the raceways, and even to the CGI stuff, this film looks AMAZING. IF, that is, you know how to look at it. Gotta say, after getting used to the technicolor bombast of this movie, those visuals got much less distracting, and I was able to actually focus on them.

Music and Editing

This is a soundtrack I would buy. My biggest complaint with some of these adapted cartoon properties is the lack of iconic music you can find in them (LOOKIN’ AT YOU, BAYFORMERS), and the score absolutely uses the original song to its advantage, while also updating it to a satisfying instrumental. Nice one...MICHAEL GIACCHINO??? The Avengers and The Incredibles composer? THAT MICHAEL GIACCHINO??? No wonder I love the music here!

How about editing? Well...editing leaves something to be desired, sorry to say. Some of the distracting way these sequences are constructed is...less than stellar. Still, Zack Staenberg and Roger Barton did very well with the racing sequences, so it’s got some high highs, alongside its dismal lows. In other words, 7/10 overall here.

76%, and that sounds about right to me!

Is this my favorite racing movie or car movie? No, Mad Max Fury Road still has it beat there. Is this a movie I would watch again? Weirdly...yeah, yeah 100%, and with other people. This isn’t the best movie in the world, obviously, but I do agree that it’s underrated. It’s crazy, its bombastic (yes, I do love that word), it’s nonsensically seizure-inducing...and it’s somehow intriguing at the same time. Would watch again.

That’s it for cars! And we’re in the last week of Action January! Wow, that’s crazy. Can’t believe I’ve kept this up for this long, to be honest. So, how to send off this month? I already know the ending, but how to start? Well...I guess there’s one major subgenre I haven’t touched: disaster.

January 24, 2021: The Poseidon Adventure (1972)

#speed racer #speed racer 2008 #speed racer film #the wachowskis #lana wachowski #lilly wachowski #emile hirsch #christina ricci #John Goodman #susan sarandon #roger allam #matthew fox #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #user365 #action january

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 4 years ago

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Superman & Lois - Ep. 102 “Heritage”

In which the Sad Dad vibes and teen angst continues!

Spoilers!

Lois gets the opening and closing narration this week! And generally has more to do, which is nice.

The fam has officially moved to Smallville, so the boys are gearing up to start school...or are they???

Well, Jon is. Jordan is told he has to stay home until he can get his nascent powers under control because they don’t want him to accidentally flash frying a classmate. Which he almost did. Last week.

Clark calls Jordan’s accidental heat vision an ‘ocular release of energy.’

This decision, of course, leads to some FAMILY DRAMA. Jordan feels like a freak! Jonathan is upset that they’ve had to move! Clark feels like he’s failing as a parent!

Oh and also the guy in the Master Chief suit is on the hunt for Kryptonite. Which is, you know. Troubling.

SO it’s off to school for Jonathan and off to the Fortress for Jordan!

Lois, upon Jonathan asking why Jordan gets to go flying with dad: “At least we have the radio!”

One plus side about the show being ‘grounded’ and ‘prestige-y’: the high school drama is of a more believable variety. Still tedious, but at least it’s not dated 90s tropes.

...Well, okay. Not entirely true. Sarah Cushing’s personality thus far is ‘nice girl who’s dating a jerk’ and yes, the line “What do you see in that guy?” is said aloud. So.

Win some, lose some.

MEANWHILE, AT THE FORTRESS:

Love the actor they got for Jor-El. He’s perfect, in that he feels like an homage to Brando, Crowe, but is also his own distinct version. I dig it.

But there’s no giant key made of dwarf star matter because this is GROUNDED and REALISTIC and none of that SILLY CW NONSENSE, WE GOT HBO MAX MONEY.

Back to the Lois vs. Edge plot:

For all the folks wondering how Lois working at the Planet was going to continue, what with the show being set in Smallville...

WELL.

Edge now owns the Planet, so he re-writes a negative article she’s written about him, which leads to her quitting, and going to write for the Smallville Gazette.

Which is operated by Chrissy Beppo.

Who is...named after the super monkey?

Does this mean we’ll eventually meet other Smallville residents named after super pets? Like Marsha Whizzy, or maybe Kenneth Comet.

Seems a weird choice when ‘Bibbo’ is right there.

ANYWAYS.

Best line of the episode: “You know what babe? You do your Superman stuff, and I will do my Lois Lane stuff.”

MEANWHILE, THE SAD DAD VIBES INTENSIFY as Grandpa Jor-El reveals: Jordan...will never be like you, Kal-El. His human DNA is too limiting.

Which is a very interesting plot point (that was sorta mentioned/explored in Future State!)

So, about the boys: I still find them...mostly annoying. But I appreciate the dynamic they’re establishing: Jordan has always required more time and attention due to his anxiety disorder, and Jonathan has always had to look after him and compensate--this carries over into the new status quo where Jordan has the super powers and Jonathan further feels that his brother is getting time and attention and he needs to make sacrifices and changes for him/the family.

This leads to a really lovely moment between the brothers at the end of the episode that I genuinely enjoyed, so. I’m hoping that there will be more of that and less of ‘drama with Sarah’.

(Also if you think that sounds a little like another pair of Super siblings...it does! And also hold that thought.)

The OTHER big twist is that Master Chief AKA Captain Luthor comes from a world with an EVIL SUPERMAN.

To be clear, the set-up is very obviously, ‘Our Clark will prove Captain Luthor wrong re: thinking he’ll turn evil,’ so I’m not seriously suggesting we’re in for a full-on Injustice situation. I just find it funny, how quickly they pulled out the ol’ evil Supes.

(The one we saw in Elseworlds doesn’t count since that wasn’t Clark.)

And maybe this one isn’t either! I admit complete ignorance as to the comics stuff they’re pulling from; I guess it’s somehow connected to Project 7734 (Which is ‘hell’ upside down, as any fifth grader with a calculator will tell you) a counter-Kryptonian force put together by Sam Lane, I think?

IDK. Like I said, comics blind spot.

The episode ends with Grandpa Lane looking a bit spooked at the ominous 7734 keychain Captain Luthor gave him, and Captain Luthor still on the hunt for Kryptonite! DUN DUN DUUNNNNNN.

And now, time for a segment I’ll call: Gettin’ Super Salty w/Stranger wherein I will stash all of my frustration regarding the fact that this spin-off doesn’t really want to be a spin-off.

Okay, so first up! As mentioned, the Fortress design has been changed because the silly Supergirl version does not vibe with the new serious aesthetic.

Their loss! More Legion Rings, baby Sun Eaters, and impractical front door keys for Supergirl!

The sunstone AI details the last days of Krypton, and only one (1) pod is shown escaping the destruction.

Thanks, I hate it.

I do appreciate that Jor-El at least kinda appears to be wearing clothes that match the look of Supergirl’s Krypton. I wasn’t paying close attention to the buildings in the hologram, no clue if they match the architecture we’ve seen thus far.

Like, I get it. There’s no time to pause the plot and be like, ‘hey, just FYI, I’m not the sole survivor of Krypton, my cousin escaped as well’ but also AAAARRRRRGHHHHHH.

You’re using the versions of the characters introduced in Supergirl, the least you can do is namedrop her once. ONCE. That’s all I’m asking. XD

They missed their opportunity, actually; when the boys were like, ‘We have so many questions!’ All you had to do was slip in, ‘Are we related to Supergirl?’ Bam. Done. Never need to go back to it, you’ve acknowledged it, continue on with your solo Sad Dad adventures!

(Except I guess that wouldn’t work, since so much of this is built on Clark being the Lone Protector of the earth. If you allude to other heroes being around, your whole character motivation/struggle makes less sense.)

I get it but I don’t have to like it. XD

They shoulda just set this on another Earth!

Circling back to the sibling dynamic: I hate how now I really want Kara to someday appear on this show and hang out with the boys and be like, ‘ah, yes, I know the feeling, my sister and I were the same.’

That’s it, that’s all the crossover content I need. I realize Melissa is moving on to bigger and better things but MAYBE SOMEDAY. XD (Or maybe I’ll just write a fic, who knows.)

I can’t remember if I brought this up already but it is hilarious to me that anyone still thinks of Superman as a reporter--most modern takes treat it as an afterthought and here, it’s dispensed in the first episode.

It has not been brought up since.

Like, much is made about Lois leaving Metropolis, and what that’ll mean for her career, but no one in Smallville is like, ‘Clark, wow! Farming? That’s quite a career change!’

(I assume he’ll be farming, since they mentioned starting the farm up again.)

...You think anyone will drag the writers for tossing aside Clark’s ‘true calling?’

Who am I kidding? Supergirl fandom is not watching this show, they’re just harassing the people running the social media accounts.

SO OVERALL: The good remains good! The meh remains meh! I appreciate that this version of Clark and Lois exist as we inch ever closer to the release of the Snyder Cut! But also the behind-the-scenes stuff continues to hang over everything like a terrible cloud! Here’s hoping those problems are addressed!

#long post #superman and lois spoilers #that supergirl spinoff #stranger rambles

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custardcove · 4 years ago

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Here’s a fifteen-questions meme I stole from my splat-blog!

I’m not tagging fifteen people, but if you’re a mutual of mine that wants to take part, consider yourself tagged.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Pansy: A flower, if that counts! It’s a family tradition for the firstborn.

Ivan: Not exactly. I share a name with some video game character Alice liked the sound of.

Queenie: Sadly not. While I appreciate that my name stands out, sharing a name with one of my ancestors would’ve been a mark of pride.

Taylor: Mmmnope. I like ‘Taylor’ enough because it starts with a T like Tomiichi, but I wasn’t named after anybody—though you know, as a point of interest, it was meant to rhyme with my brother’s name!

Neo: I was named after my grandmother.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Pansy: Aw, man… I try to stay positive around Prim, but I do cry about silly stuff sometimes. Maybe a week ago? Sometimes the past just catches up to you.

Ivan: Longer than I can remember.

Queenie: What an invasive question! I don’t think that’s any of your business. I do not cry frequently.

Taylor: Now why’d you want to know a thing like that? I think I’ll keep it to myself!

Neo: Mind your own business.

3. Do you have kids?

Pansy: Have you met Primrose? That’s my daughter. She’s really sweet, but she’s also quite shy, so please keep that in mind.

Ivan: This is a difficult question to answer. I’d say no. I don’t think granting someone’s wish makes me a father.

Queenie: Not yet. I intend to.

Taylor: Woah, no! Do I look responsible enough to be a dad? Ahah…

Neo: No. I would rather not.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Pansy: I try not to, er, I’m not so great at it. And it’s kinda mean.

Ivan: I get reprimanded for being sarcastic. It happens regularly.

Queenie: What do you think?

Taylor: There’s always room for some well-placed sarcasm!

Neo: Any time I make a joke.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Pansy: I try to get a good read on folks—so, I guess their whole profile? That’s before I start looking at their individual features. If something sticks out to me from there, I’ll focus on that—but not in a mean way! Like, seeing someone’s smile, or if they’re carrying something, or their size, or claws. That’s what I mean.

Ivan: Their aura. It’s not difficult for me to discern a person’s moral alignment, and that’s important for my role.

Queenie: Their posture, how they walk, how they talk. It’s important for a first impression and can often be an indication of status. Or, perhaps more importantly, an indication of their intent…

Taylor: Their mood! I don’t want to step on the toes of anyone that’s angry, and happier people are more likely to give you the time of day, you know? Improving someone’s low mood is great too, but I have to gauge my limits.

Neo: I’m not known for noticing people. How social they are, I suppose.

6. What’s your eye colour?

Pansy: Psychic pink! They do that thing where they get more vivid when I use my powers—just the psychic ones, though. And I don’t use those too much ‘cause I risk a headache… still, I like my eyes.

Ivan: Brown, orange.

Queenie: Smoky Quartz.

Taylor: Brown. You know, like coffee? If I were a coffee, I think I’d be a Caffe Latte. … But, yeah they’re darker than that.

Neo: …I don’t mind my eyes being green as much as my hair.

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

Pansy: Don’t mind either one, but I’d prefer a happy ending, even in a scary movie. That said, there are scary movies I just won’t watch, so I guess happy endings win out.

Ivan: I don’t waste much time watching films unless I’m asked to, but I prefer a happy ending. A good story is the most important, though.

Queenie: Happy endings are far too sappy and saccharine, but I can’t say I receive much thrill from horror either. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy watching them … my favourite part of a movie is criticizing it.

Taylor: Happy endings, please! I can’t understand why anyone would want to scare themselves – unless it’s silly fun, but that’s different. Y’know, not that I scare easy or anything…

Neo: Scary movies tend to be more interesting, but… I don’t have anything against happy endings. Horror isn’t my genre, either, unless it’s psychological.

8. Any special talents?

Pansy: I have a bit of a green thumb!

Ivan: That all depends on your perspective.

Queenie: I’m an excellent piano player.

Taylor: People tell me I’ve got a lot of charisma, and I consider that a talent!

Neo: I suppose converting myself into digital matter could be considered a talent.

9. Where were you born?

Pansy: A town not so different from Erryton, actually! It’s not far.

Ivan: Great question.

Queenie: Enigma Island, not far from Thorn’s Peak.

Taylor: Would you believe me if I told you I couldn’t remember? Aha. I know we moved when I was really young.

Neo: Doesn’t matter.

10. What are your hobbies?

Pansy: Well, like I mentioned, I quite like doing plant stuff. I used to sketch ‘em and make notes about ‘em too, but I stick more to the practical side these days. I also like to bake! Mainly pies, cakes and cookies.

Ivan: I play the flute and cithara. Next question.

Queenie: I have a wide array of hobbies. I enjoy painting, reading, and playing the piano—as I have already mentioned. While I’m not … particularly adept at sewing, I practice cross-stitch on occasion. I also like to write poetry, and take a bit of interest in botany…

Taylor: Most of my hobbies have some aspect of music tied to them—I like playing the guitar, mixing tracks, and just listening to albums. But I also like playing videogames and taking apart machinery for fun. I can even help people fix things! Er, sometimes.

Neo: I read comics and watch movies, like most people. You wouldn’t be interested.

11. Do you have any pets?

Pansy: Not anymore, but I’ve had two cats – Mr Ravioli in my childhood home, and then Kiki later on. I’ve considered getting another, but I think I should wait until Primmy is a little older…

Ivan: No.

Queenie: Estelle! She’s a darling little kitty-cat and I love her so. <3

Taylor: One dog, a shibe—my father bred his, and I got a puppy. Tadashi!

Neo: My brother makes robots, and we have one of those roving floor cleaners. I would consider that a pet. We call him V.I.N.CENT.

12. What sports do you/have you played?

Pansy: I’m not really big on sports – I like magic fights? But I don’t do that a lot now.

Ivan: I may have taken part in some sport or another, but if I did, I did not commit it to memory.

Queenie: I like to swim, though I have not played any sports as such. I have also been horse riding—oh, and I’ve played badminton once or twice.

Taylor: Alice likes table tennis, and we play together sometimes. Apart from that, um… I’ve been asked to play football and baseball before?

Neo: I like to run. Parkour is fun too.

13. How tall are you?

Pansy: Five foot seven, and I’m the shortest in my family…

Ivan: Depends.

Queenie: A reasonable five feet and ten inches without heels.

Taylor: Ahaha … let’s just skip this one, shall we? You don’t need to know that.

Neo: Taller than you.

14. Dream job?

Pansy: I’ve pretty much got my dream job, all things considered! I guess I’d like it if I could get paid to do plant study, but I never really had the grades to do that as a job.

Ivan: I’m working on my rank.

Queenie: I have entertained the possibility of having a career before. Hotel management seems like an interesting prospect … or a jeweller, perhaps? Oho, I don’t know if I could be trusted to sell anything. Either way, I’m comfortable enough managing my home and finances.

Taylor: I’ve always wanted to be a big-name tv presenter—hell, even a small-name gameshow host! I’ve not given up on my dream yet, but being a radio show host is close enough. I can use it as a stepping stone. Yeah, a music quiz show would be great…

Neo: I don’t know. Even when it comes to things I like doing, I’m not sure I’d want to make a job out of it. Coding is just convenient.

15. Favourite subject in school?

Pansy: Science! I also liked geography, ‘cause I was pretty decent at it.

Ivan: I have never attended school.

Queenie: I’ve both been to school and had private tutors, but my favourite subjects were history and literature. They rely on eachother, so were easy to write papers on.

Taylor: Apart from the obvious ‘music’, it was mathematics—and yes, I’m serious! I also liked science and IT.

Neo: From what I remember of school, I liked science and computing classes. The rest of what I learned was from online courses.

That’s… that’s it? It just ends? Alright then.

#Pansy #Ivan #Queenie #Taylor #Neo #OC Questions

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Kurtbastian one-shot “All that Glitters” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Looking for something to stay connected to the skating world during quarantine, Kurt decided to enter an Instagram contest. Sebastian agrees to help, because he would do anything for his boyfriend ... until they come across something that almost turns out to be a hard no. (1751 words)

Notes: Combining the anon prompts 'The boys during quarantine' (which will be more than just this one one-shot', 'Sebastian hates glitter. That has to come up during figure skating, right?' and ‘Blaine's crush on Kurt is showing'. I did the best I could. I hope you like it :) Blaine friendly.

Part 63 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

“Have I told you how much I appreciate you doing this?” Kurt asks stiffly, trying not to move too much and chance smearing the teal liquid liner he’s applying to his boyfriend’s right eyelid.

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” Sebastian replies, supremely uncomfortable in his current rigid sitting position, his wooden desk chair unforgiving against his numb behind. Still, he glows beneath his boyfriend’s praise.

“As much as I enjoy getting dolled up, I’m entering seven looks in this ISI performance makeup contest! The wear and tear on my face would have been substantial!”

“Can’t have that, can we?”

“No we can’t. The last thing I need during a frickin’ pandemic is to start developing wrinkles before I hit my twenties. As it is, I’m getting some serious dry patches on my cheeks.” Kurt caps his eyeliner and puts it with the rest of his supplies. Biting his lower lip, he stares at his army of palettes, lipsticks, compacts, and brushes laid out on Sebastian’s comforter, deciding on the next product to apply to his face. “Thank you, by the way,” he says in a softer tone, “for not thinking this is stupid.”

Sebastian tilts his head carefully. Kurt put a considerable amount of highlighter on his cheek over a heavy dusting of blush. He doesn’t want to accidentally smear it onto his bare shoulder, force Kurt to start all over again. Though the thought of another hour spent with Kurt hovering over him, the two of them shirtless, Kurt’s lips kissing distance from his as he stares deep into his eyes has Sebastian seriously contemplating scrubbing his hands down his face and making a mess of Kurt’s masterpiece.

“Why would I think it’s stupid? And even if it was stupid, I’ve done far stupider things … mainly during the holidays,” Sebastian says, hinting at a vague reference to the fact that he’s let Kurt talk him into dressing up as an inflatable snowman for their ice rink’s annual Christmas show … twice.

“I don’t know.” Kurt picks up a spoolie and starts tidying Sebastian’s eyebrows. “We’ve been quarantined for so long. We’ve been good about keeping up our training, staying occupied. We’re lucky. We have your rink to practice in but …” He shrugs “… I miss hanging out with our friends. They’ve canceled Regionals, Nationals, and Worlds, so all those people we only see three times a year? We won’t get to see them. These silly Instagram contests ISI puts on … I feel like they’re one of the only things keeping our skating community together.”

“I get ya.” Sebastian reaches for his boyfriend’s hips, massages with firm fingertips. “On my end, I’d do anything for you. I just want you to be happy.”

Kurt grins. “Well, it’s nice having a sexy male model to play with.”

“Is that why you asked Blaine to join us?” Sebastian asks sarcastically.

“Good Lord! Can we please go back to the part where you want me to be happy?”

“Absolutely,” Sebastian agrees with an easy smile, acting more casual than he feels. He’s not the biggest fan of makeup. He’s worn it before. It’s a hazard of participating in a performance sport. But he wouldn’t choose to wear it otherwise. No hate to guys who do, he just doesn’t like putting things on his skin. The eyeshadow alone is driving him to hysterics! But he loves Kurt.

Besides, after he found out Kurt had also asked Blaine for help and Blaine didn’t hesitate before saying yes, Sebastian couldn’t say no.

“All right-y then,” Kurt says, the smile growing on his lips as he contemplates his work. “You’re almost done.”

“Almost? What else could you possibly fit on my face?”

“Just a teeny bit of glitter …”

“Uh … glitter?” Sebastian backs his chair away with a tight laugh. “You … you didn’t mention glitter.”

“I didn’t mention it because I thought it would be obvious.”

“How? How is it obvious?”

Kurt looks pointedly down at his own bare chest coated in a generous layer of the stuff, then back at Sebastian with an eyebrow raised. “Don’t be such a baby. It’s not like it’s going to hurt.”

“Isn’t glitter considered the STD of art supplies?” Sebastian says, scooting to the left and dodging Kurt’s glitter shaker.

Kurt pulls a face. “That’s disgusting!”

“Point made.”

“Come on, Bas! It’s made of seaweed. Like the stuff Lush uses. It’s eco-friendly.”

“Glad to hear it but that wasn’t really my concern.”

Kurt puts his hands on his hips, highly offended on glitter’s behalf. “Why don’t you like glitter?”

“Because it’s so … it’s so … sparkly! And it’s like sand. It gets everywhere.”

“Okay, Obi-Wan.”

Sebastian frowns. “You’re thinking of Anakin. Not Obi-Wan.”

“Anakin killed Natalie Portman. I refuse to acknowledge his existence.”

Sebastian stares at his boyfriend, at this stranger he thought he knew so well, but decides to drop this tangential argument and continue with the matter at hand. “Anyway, it’s impossible to get off.”

“It comes off lickety-split in hot, soapy water. I’ll help you take it off.” Kurt flashes a suggestive grin, but Sebastian seems to miss it.

“Please, Kurt? I’d rather not.”

“But … the look is called Summer Sparkle!” Kurt throws his hands up in frustration. “How did you not assume there’d be glitter?”

“Couldn’t you transition this into another look? Something not so sparkly?”

“Like what?” Kurt asks, clipping the single syllables till they’re razor sharp.

“I don’t know. I’m not the creative genius here---ooo!” Sebastian comes up with an idea way too quickly. “How about something along the lines of Lone Wolf at Midnight?”

“So …” Kurt says, followed by a loud click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth “… you’d rather I glue fur to your face than glitter?”

Sebastian swallows hard. He hadn’t considered that as a possibility. “Uh … you see … I’m trying to avoid gluing anything to my face.”

“Ugh! Sometimes you’re such a … a … a …!”

“An ass?”

“That’s the word!”

“Kur-urt …” Sebastian whines.

“I thought you said you’d do anything for me?”

“And if I absolutely have to wear glitter, I will. I’m just asking if I absolutely have to.”

Kurt sighs, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. “No, you don’t. If you don’t want to wear the glitter, you don’t have to wear the glitter.”

“Great!” Sebastian mimics wiping his forehead in relief. “Thank you. You are truly a kind and benevolent dictator.”

“Yeah, whatever … Blaine! You ready for some glitter?”

“Great!” Kurt says with unnecessary enthusiasm. “Thank you, Blaine!”

A shirtless Blaine peeks in from the hallway outside Sebastian’s room. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Going shirtless was a group decision. The focus of the photographs is supposed to be their faces, but they thought they’d take the opportunity to show off their rockin’ ‘made-in-quarantine’ physiques. A little bragging never hurt nobody. It’ll definitely help with the ‘like’ factor, which is how the contest will be judged. Besides, it’s psychological warfare - showing the competition that nothing, not even being locked down for three months, was going to knock them off their game.

“You’re … welcome?” Blaine replies, a little confused.

Kurt turns his jar of glitter over and gives it a shake, ready to add another layer to his own skin out of spite, but nothing comes out. He straightens, lifts the shaker to the light, and peers inside. “Oh no! It looks like I’m out of this one!”

“I think that’s because you’re wearing enough glitter for all of us.” Blaine snorts. Kurt’s nose scrunches when he does. He’d mentioned to Sebastian once that he thought it was cute when Blaine snorted.

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

Kurt taps a finger to his chin, thinking up a solution. One comes to him, lighting his eyes brighter than the glitter on his chest. “Wait a minute! That gives me an idea! Blaine, you’re a genius!”

“I … I am?” Blaine stutters, more than a little concerned, especially since he can feel Sebastian glaring at him, hot enough to melt his foundation.

“Absolutely!” Kurt smiles and throws his arms open wide. “Come here and give me a hug!”

Blaine’s face goes comically blank, but he rushes forward at the invitation anyway, never one to turn down a hug from Kurt. But Sebastian wastes no time blocking him, shooting to his feet and wrapping his arms around Kurt, pressing their bodies together.

“Uh … nope,” “Sebastian says, waving Blaine off. “No, no, no, not necessary. I’ve go this one handled, thank you.”

There’s a lot Sebastian will put up with in regards to his boyfriend’s relationship with Blaine.

Shirtless hugging isn’t one of those.

After a full minute of awkwardly sandwiching their bodies together, Sebastian steps back to survey the outcome … and groans. “Look, now, see?” he comments dryly. “There’s not enough glitter for you, Blaine. Sorry. You’re going to have to get yours somewhere else.”

Blaine chuckles at Sebastian’s discomfort. “I can see that.” He takes a seat on the end of the bed and waits patiently for Kurt to beat his mug. He realizes it will probably happen under the watchful scowl of Sebastian Smythe but it’ll be worth it.

As awful as it sounds, Blaine enjoys getting under his skin every once in a while.

Blaine respects Kurt and Sebastian’s relationship more than anything, even if he can’t help harboring a crush on Kurt. Without the two of them, he doesn’t know where he’d be right now. Honestly, he’d rather not think about that. But a great deal of his safety and security he attributes to Sebastian’s generosity - a generosity that may only exist because of Sebastian’s love for Kurt.

So Blaine’s not about to step on any toes.

But Sebastian makes it too easy to get on his nerves. And the more Blaine does, the more fun it is.

Having Kurt’s full attention, their faces kissing distance the way his was with Sebastian’s? The next hour should be a hoot.

“See?” Kurt runs a light finger over the spattering of glitter covering Sebastian’s skin. “Is that so painful?”

“Yes,” Sebastian mutters, looking down in disgust at the iridescent specks starting to itch. He looks over at Blaine - shirtless, tanned, and muscular Blaine, sitting on the edge of the mattress, awaiting his turn. He’d been so quick to jump on the glitter grenade, which makes this coat Sebastian is wearing a casualty of war. “Yes, it is.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe

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