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lovesupernova25 · 3 years

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Broken Glass

a Quackity Oneshot

warnings: torture (non-explicit), blood, insanity, brief alcohol

i sat down at my computer, blacked out, looked up at 3 am and this was here. please enjoy. (idea from this one comment on this one tiktok that suggested that quackity uses the shape shifting powers some people hc him to have to torment dream. i’ll see if i can find the tiktok!)

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Quackity knew what broken glass felt like. He knew how it felt slicing up his hands, his face, being kissed into his skin. But this was the first time he knew what it felt like in his soul. Yeah- that's what this feeling was.

Broken glass.

Quackity didn’t turn around when he heard footsteps getting closer. He knew who it was already. No one else would be in this wasteland he’d built, anyways. No one was ever here.

“Q?” The rumble of Sam’s voice was concerned, almost hesitant. Quackity grabbed a bottle from the rack. “Quackity- you said it was urgent. What’s going on?” He turned, and the liquor slammed onto the counter. He might’ve relished the way Sam startled, on a better day. Quackity’s hands found the shot glasses, twisted the cap of the bottle. The neon blue that sloshed from the cup reflected the thunder in his gaze.

“Quackity, it’s still early-” But he tipped his head, knocked back the burning liquor. This time, Sam didn’t jump when the glass crashed down next to his hand. Quackity splayed his palms on the cool granite and leaned across to level his gaze with Sam’s.

“I need to visit the prison, Sam.”

Sam had the good sense to nod.

Maybe this was the wrong way to deal with things. Maybe strapping on armor and sharpening his knives wasn’t a healthy way to process his ex-fiances showing up trying to- what? Apologize? Make things ‘how they used to be’? If that was the case, they really were just mocking him. Nothing would ever be the way it used to.

It ended in a fight, of course. It ended in his already cracking heart fully giving out, splintering into a thousand shards like shattered fvcking glass. It ended in him envying Schlatt, because at least when his heart broke down he got to leave.

Quackity’s stuck here, with this void in his chest that keeps him floating oddly outside his body as Pandora swallows him whole.

They don’t even bother signing the waivers anymore. It would be ridiculous, at this point, especially since Quackity’s fully decked out in armor and tools. He guesses Sam’s just realized Quackity won’t be the reason Dream gets out of the hell they’ve so carefully crafted for him.

Levers, keys. The threshold to the heart of the prison is as claustrophobic as ever, but Quackity embraces the suffocating heat. There’s not much for his mind to wander on, here. There is the wall of lava, and there is the rasp of his boots on obsidian, and there is the rough leather pommel of his sword. There is, on the other side of the fire, a sacrificial lamb. Quackity grins and it hurts as the lava simmers down.

Sam says nothing.

“Dream…” He leans on the butt of his axe, looming, and his ears are still ringing with screams. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier to give me what I want?” He kneels next to the ragged lump of man on the ground and grabs his chin, forces it up. “C’mon… I would leave you alone then, right? I wouldn’t come, wouldn’t have to hurt you- you would get so much peace and quiet… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Quackity makes his voice honey, his hand gentle. Gods, he thinks he even sees Dream lean into the touch. It’s pitiful, what the admin has become. One of Dream’s acid-green eyes is bloodied and purple, swollen shut, and a cut on his face oozes crimson. His mouth is positively dripping with the stuff, courtesy of Quackity’s pliers and some molars that were just begging to be yanked. He can hear the ragged, wheezing breaths of the man in front of him and Quackity has never felt so sickeningly alive.

“Heh…” Dream flicks his working eye up to hold Quackity’s gaze. “No-” He coughs violently, wheezing and convulsing. The hacking subsides and he forces out; “No peace in death, Big Q. You’ll know that s-soon.”

Quackity’s lip curls. He stands abruptly, taking little satisfaction in the way Dream’s chin cracks against the obsidian.

“You’re pitiful.” This was supposed to help. He thought it did- when he funneled all the glass inside of him into the swing of his axe, the cut of his knife. When the voices in his head were drowned out by the screaming. But Dream was on the ground, bleeding and broken and still acting like he had the upper fvcking hand, and it turned out the glass had grown only sharper.

This isn’t working.

He paces to the back of the cell and yanks a tattered book off the lectern, flipping through it with a scowl. He’s about to chuck the thing in the lava--just to see if it’ll get a reaction out of its’ author--when a name catches his eye. Gingerly, he thumbs back to the page it was written on. Quackity feels so sick he grins when he finds it.

It’s not just one name. It’s hundreds. Some he doesn’t recognize, but most from this server. In fact- it looks like everyone who’s ever stepped foot in Dream’s land has been scrawled on the black-bleeding page. Quackity even thinks he sees his own name in there somewhere. They cover the page almost entirely in ink, written and rewritten and scribbled over each other.

George, Sapnap, Karl, Tommy. Tommy seems to be in there a lot.

Dream must have sat here for hours, scribbling the names of people he would never see again, alone in his personal hell. It’s sick. And something in the back of Quackity’s mind sparks.

“Dream,” He says, as the start of an idea appears. “How would you like to see your friends again?” He sees the confusion in the prisoner’s eyes and has to fight to keep from grinning. “Or… your old friends, I suppose. But I bet they still care about you, don’t you think?” He sets the book down, pacing towards the heap of blood-streaked orange jumpsuit with mock sincerity plastered over his face. His mouth twitches at the look in Dream’s eyes. There’s fear, suspicion, pain… but also, delightfully, hope. He can see Dream trying to crush it, but it’s there. Gods, Quackity could get drunk on that look. Maybe he already is.

“How do you think,” He leans over Dream, hands folded behind his back. “They would feel about you if they saw you now?”

Quackity really is grinning now. The axe wasn’t working, the knives weren’t working, the pliers only made Dream more determined. It was time for a new tactic. He feels that spark in the back of his mind and fans it, turning away from Dream as it grows. He hasn’t dipped into this ability for a long time--people don’t much like his kind--but the only person to see him now is barely human himself. Quackity closes his eyes as the fire washes over him.

When he turns around, he almost breaks character at the shock in Dream’s eyes.

“George?”

There’s so much raw hurt in his voice- gods, why didn’t he think of this sooner?

“Dream…” Quackity says in George’s voice. “Gods… what happened to you?”

“No… how- George-”

“I mean, everybody says you deserved it.” Quackity makes sure the revulsion is clear on his--George’s--face as he steps closer. “I guess you did… Still, though… this is a new low for you.” Dream is actually trying to push himself up now, trembling on wounded arms. “I mean, don’t you remember how things used to be? When we were all together? And now you’re… this. Not to be rude, Dream, but it’s kind of no wonder no one’s broken you out.”

“Stop, you’re… you’re not even real, I…” Dream screws his eyes shut, chest heaving. Aw. It looks like he’s starting to catch on.

“We were all happy, before.” He continues, letting the glass, the anger, slip back into his voice. “Like a family. And then you ruined it. All you’ve ever been is a parasite- it’s just amazing we didn’t notice sooner.” Quackity snarls with George’s face and he knows Dream can’t separate the illusion from reality. “You know what everyone says? They say good fvcking riddance.” Quackity--George--takes a step toward Dream with every word, until he’s sneering directly down at him. “I used to defend you. Down to the very end, I’d defend everything you did- all the wars, all the hurt, broken promises and broken hearts. I was loyal to you.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Not anymore. Now, I say good riddance with the rest of them.”

Quackity doesn’t know much about George and Dream’s history, but he knew they were close. And Dream, for all his boasting about cutting ties, has never truly let go. “I loved you, Dream. And look where it got us. You’re bleeding out in a cell, alone and powerless, and I…” Quackity turns. It’s a damn good thing he’s an amazing actor, or the look on Dream’s face might just make him lose it. It’s the same look he’s seen on just three people’s faces before; three people with worthless rings and broken promises to tie them together.

(“Didn’t you ever love us?”)

But Dream was right about one thing. Attachments are dangerous. And Quackity can wield them like a sword.

“I’m leaving. I don’t need you, Dream. And neither does anyone else.” His lip curls. “You’re worthless, Clay. I hope you rot.”

And the curtain falls.

Dream has pushed himself against a chest by now, heaving and trembling.

“Stop. Stop this, you’re not him, you’re not-” Another coughing fit seizes him and he hacks up blood.

“Wasn’t it a good performance, though? I think I was spot on, Clay.” Quackity leers, in his own voice now. Gods, that was exhilarating.

Dream rests his forehead against the chest, face contorted. “What do you want?” It sounds almost like a sob. Quackity’s smile drops.

“Oh, you know exactly what I want, Dream. You know exactly why I’m still here, and why you can barely stand.” He cocks his head, lip twitching up into a smile. There are a thousand names scrawled into that book, all of them knives sharpened to cut. Quackity’s just gotten started. “Let's see if someone else could encourage you more.”

Dream barely has time to look afraid before the fire has washed over Quackity again.

Lights, camera, action.

“...You always wanted to be remembered, huh.” Sapnap’s voice says. Dream closes his eyes, breath hitching. “You’d always play the hero, when we were kids. Make George and I be the villains every time.” His eyes have been on the ground, but he lifts them now, stares down the figure in the corner. “Look where that fvcking got us.” And this hurts both of them, Quackity knows- because he knows Sapnap’s voice, his mannerisms, the way he sounds when he’s devastated and the way he sounds when he wants to burn the world with rage. Slipping into his skin is as easy as breathing and feels like suffocating all at once.

“You promised me- you promised me this would be our world. That we’d stay together, that we’d finally be happy.” And it is too easy to let that heartbreak bleed into his voice, sprinkle it with the rage and hate of wasted memories.

(“You promised me we’d be happy together.”)

He paces towards Dream with a glare like wildfire. “Well guess what, Dream. I am happy now. This whole server is happier now.” Quackity yanks the man in the orange jumpsuit up by the collar and snarls at his whimper of pain. “Without you. Without your sick fvcking games, without your wars, without your broken promises!” He’s shouting now, and he can see the whites of Dream’s eyes, like a horse near a fire. Quackity drops him with Sapnap’s hands like a rat he’d been holding by the tail. “Do you remember the promises you’d make, Dream?”

And now Quackity feels himself shifting again, almost involuntarily. His voice pitches higher and demonic horns scrape the obsidian above them. “You promised me peace.” Quackity says in BBH’s voice. “You said we’d be safe, that we’d win the wars!” It’s almost sickening to take the form of someone whose mind he knows is long gone. Worth it, though, to watch Dream squirm. “Is this what peace looks like to you, Dream? I can’t even remember what your face looks like!” There’s desperation in his voice, though Quackity doesn’t even know if what he’s saying is true. For all he knows it could be. “I can’t remember,” He takes a step towards Dream, glowing eyes wide with horror “What my own face looks like.”

“Bad-” Dream’s voice is almost pleading. He doesn’t want to hear this.

Good.

"Every time I look in the mirror-” Quackity’s breath hitches, just for dramatic effect. “All I see is red. Crimson. I’m poisoned, Dream. Because that’s what this place does to people.” The fire is back, transforming him. Quackity doesn’t even try to control it this time.

“That’s what you do to people.” Ponk’s voice rings throughout the cell.

“You poison them.” Alyssa.

“You tear them down.” Fundy.

“You think you’re so powerful,” Punz.

“But in reality-” Skeppy.

“You’re. Just. A. Parasite.” Karl hisses at the god on the floor who bleeds red regret instead of ichor.

Quackity doesn’t know where the words are coming from, now.

(“This country- it’s like a parasite, Q!”)

His breaths come ragged. When the fire sweeps through him again, Quackity nearly burns away himself.

Sapnap’s voice is tired when he speaks with it.

“You were never the hero, Dream. Turns out, you were never even part of the story.”

And Dream is left a crumpled mess of grief and blood at his feet as the fire dies to ashes.

Quackity’s tired when he leaves the cell that evening. It’s the bone-deep exhaustion that comes from more than lack of sleep, and it drags at his limbs. Sam does not look at him, and Quackity wonders if he knows what horrors were used in that cell today. He somehow can’t bring himself to care.

It was cruel, he knows. He slipped into their skin and cut Dream to shreds with the broken glass at his fingertips, ripped open his soul instead of his flesh and took pleasure in just tearing something down. It was cruel, but so is (was) Dream, and so is the world he created. Everyone gets cut and everyone bleeds, and the only thing to do is hope that your weapon is sharper than theirs. He’s had that lesson seared into his mind and cut into his skin too many times. So today when Quackity leaves a trembling mess behind the wall of fire, he cannot see Sam’s eyes- but if he could, he thinks they would hold something like fear.

So he steps out into the night, and he smiles, sharp and painful as broken glass.

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tolkienhorror · 3 years

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In Sauron’s Lab: File #5

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con, flaying, public humiliation, cannibalism, medical torture.

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given on my main blog. Prompt: Fingon/Sauron, Audience, Crying, Collaring, Public humiliation

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I asked for a King to replace the one you lost, Lieutenant, and all you bring me is this, Morgoth had told Sauron when the orcs had dragged Findekáno into the throne room of the enemy’s base.

You have a week to break him, the Dark Lord had told his minion, interrupting Sauron’s almost nervous sounding explanations about how very useful the son of the new High King would be in their hands for their cause, black eyes uncaring, greyish skin glowing like the destructive flash of lightning in the shine of the Silmarils wrongly crowning that terrible, hollowed face. You make him kneel for me, or you can go right back to that mountain I pried you and feed another of your bodies to the crows.

Then they’d taken him away, and Findekáno remembered wondering if it would even take him a week at the mercy of someone who’d long given up on all empathy along with his sane mind, only to serve this monster who didn’t even bother caring about him in the presence of a prisoner, before he would wish for death. For a quick end, rather than clinging to the foolish hope that someone would come to find him here.

No one would. No one even knew he was here and they wouldn't for several weeks, not before he was expected home from his journey to Himring to surprise his husband. By the time, they would start to wonder in Hithlum, it would be too late.

Maitimo would probably learn last, and even he would not come. Findekáno had made him promise, made him swear on everything safe for what would have bordered on an oath that neither of them needed another one of. More than that, Maitimo would know, better than anyone, that Findekáno had been lost the moment his escort and he had been overwhelmed with the help of countless black arrows and half a dozen of fiery whips from behind. A year, he had once told Findekáno. If you could hold on to your will to live or your sanity or both for a year of being a prisoner in Angband, you were counted among the lucky ones.

As it turned out, for Findekáno, it was two days before he started to regret that he hadn’t tried to bite through his own wrist arteries in these few minutes that he’d spent alone in a pitch-dark, moldy cell, damned to wait for whatever what was to come. And that was before anyone had even touched him.

Findekáno had no doubt that a lot of them wanted to. Two of the boldest creatures reaching out for him had died already when another of Morgoth's highest ranking Lieutenants had dragged Findekáno from his cell to lead him towards a huge hall at the end of the dungeon wing that had already echoed with the screams of more than one of his people at that point. And dozens orcs more were very clearly waiting for their chance, lurking in the corner of that torture chamber, scarred faces distorted into sneers. The scornful whispers about all that they would love to do to their most precious prisoner given half a chance were only interrupted by the occasional brawl or by the sounds of two or more of those despicable bastards starting one of their perverted, brutal mating rituals, high on watching their master use his songs and evil instruments and cruel skill on yet another elvish prisoner.

But they would not be allowed to approach. And the one person Sauron would not lay hand on, was Findekáno himself. The former maia might long be beyond a sane mind, but if there was one thing he was not, it was stupid. Very well aware of Findekáno's relationship to the prisoner that Findekáno had robbed him of under his very nose not too long ago, not least thanks to everything Sauron had seen in Maitimo's mind in decades of not only physical but also mental torture, Sauron must know that there was very little he could have threatened Findekáno with that he didn't expect. Spending night after night with talking Maitimo through his nightmares and memories had made sure of that. Repeat performances were very obviously not among the maia's twisted preferences. So he chose to confront Findekáno with the only thing he could truly hurt him with: the suffering of his own soldiers. Which would have been bad enough on its own, but it still wasn't the worst.

Findekáno would gladly have borne every pain, every humiliation if he could have saved any of his warriors by that, even if it was only by the blade to their throats. The uncertainty of what would come for exiles like them afterward was better than even an hour under the clawed hands of Morgoth's lapdog. If they'd let him, Findekáno would have taken the place of every single of the elves and she-elves he had to watch scream their lives out and yet not being allowed to die in the first days of his captivity; and that, too, was something Sauron knew, of course. The worst was that being the only choice Findekáno could not make. This was the promise he had given his husband in return. That he would not give in. That he would not trade his soul for a couple of lives that were forfeit anyway, weakening his own mind by letting the cunning spirit of the maia enter it to rip it wide open and put into it whatever Sauron thought suited to bend Findekáno to his will. They could not have him as long as he did not give himself to them, they said, Maitimo said, so he would endure. For he knew, if his mind would no longer be his own, if he would go back to his people in the fashion Morgoth doubtlessly wanted him to, no longer himself but merely a vessel … A vessel like they had had to eliminate so many who had allegedly escaped their thralldom, coming to either his father's or Maitimo's doorstep for assault rather than refuge … Then the first person they would set Findekáno to kill would be his own husband. By refusing to give his enemies this chance, therefore trading the life of the person he loved most for the one of dozens – almost a hundred, in the end – other elves, Findekáno thought, maybe he had actually sold his soul already.

A high-pitched yell, quickly cut off by the choked gurgling of blood blocking the throat it had emerged from, tore him from the useless circle of self-hate that was his mind.

"As I was saying before you so rudely started to disassociate," Sauron sighed in that honey-laced voice of his while throwing the tongue he'd just cut from his victim's mouth in a bowl nearby, "I'm starting to think, that useless husband of yours made the wrong choice, relinquishing his claim to the throne. If all people from your side of your kin are as breakable as your unit, Your Highness, the Noldor might have been better advised living even under those kinslaying, crippled hands of your lover. Or rather, the one you haven't cut off when you were too weak to break a single shackle, that is."

Findekáno still did not give the bastard the satisfaction of an answer. He hadn't addressed the maia a single time since they'd taken him and very carefully avoided even regarding that black-clad, delicate shape with more than a fleeting glance from the corner of his eyes. It was better, not staring into those flaming eyes for too long, Maitimo had used to tell him, for you never knew what might stare back at – into – you. Besides, he was too busy, trying not to throw up when his torturer yanked the head of that elf who was firmly chained to a narrow wooden table, to the side by his red-matted blond hair, catching the streams of blood from the victim's mouth in that same bowl before handing it to one of the orcs without even looking twice, leaving the delightedly screeching creatures to fight over their breakfast. Once more, Findekáno wished he could have told the elf – his captain – that it would be over soon, at least, but judging by the last three scenes of this kind he'd already had to watch, chained to a chair of metal himself in a way that left no inch of a room to try and free himself, that would have been a blatant lie.

Sauron hated being distracted by too much talk when he was working but he very much enjoyed hearing his victims scream, that was all. So this was always how he started. "Let's see if we can get a little more fight out of this one, shall we? It would be a shame if you had to do without the leader of your escort once you'll promise yourself to the Lord of this world."

The Never was on the tip of Findekáno's tongue, but it never came, and maybe not only because he refused to acknowledge the numbing poison that was Sauron's words with anything but a blank stare. It was hard, holding on to resistance when you had to watch your enemy reach for a diamond-sharp knife and put a first clean, deep cut to his newest victim's body, right around the wrist, in front of the broad shackle holding the captain's arm in place, and then start to peel off the first layers of skin inch by inch, finger by finger, more patches of flesh and skin carelessly thrown towards the drooling audience. It was a mercy, one that Findekáno shouldn't be half as thankful for as he was, that the elf's voice was soon too sore from screaming to produce more than a hoarse noises, hardly even able to drown out the mirthful whistling on Sauron's lips that was a most basic healing spell to keep blood loss and infections at bay. And it was an irony that wasn't lost to Findekáno, that he'd spent almost two years, trying to convince his husband that he had no reason to hate himself for what he'd seen and been forced to do during his own captivity, and that he could feel the same blackness of loathing wash over his own soul now; thick acid trying to bury every memory of light and love and friendship especially to these people he had to see suffer right in front of his eyes, maybe never to be revived. It was far easier to believe in innocence when you weren't the one watching silently. That heaviness of shock and any missing rest for days, that had started to take hold of his soul, was spreading, creeping over his skin in droves and leaving it numb, so that he did not realize, there were tears rolling down his cheeks, until Sauron was suddenly standing right in front of his chair and grabbed his cheek to slowly lick the salt off his face with his forked tongue, laying hands on him for the first time. The nausea grew instantly, a gagging sitting in the back of Findekáno's throat that he didn't want to let his enemy hear either, so he just jerked his head away and bit his tongue bloody to keep silent.

"You taste sweeter than your lover, little Princeling," Sauron murmured huskily, blood-covered, spidery hands brushing through Findekáno's messy hair. "You might want to rethink your priorities. You could have a life so much better by my side than being the useless son of a lesser King. The only thing you're doing right now is hurting everyone in this room." Findekáno's ongoing silence seemed to be loud enough, because he backed away with a shrug. Ridiculously gentle for what he'd been doing to every of Findekáno's soldiers for a few days now, he tugged two of the golden ribbons from his braids and went back to his current victim. After handing his minions another bowl full of red to slurp that had been filled by that skinned hand of a barely conscious elf in the last few minutes, he wrapped the ribbon around the mess of twitching, bared muscle and pressed the captain's wrist down against the table with his elbow while reaching for a long nail and a hammer. "Now, now." An admonishing noise came from Sauron's cherry-red lips when Findekáno turned his head away, unable to stand the sight of that nail being pressed right in the middle of that ruined palm, with only the fabric of the ribbon between, the sight of a usually so proud, brave warrior arching up against his chains in fear. "Is that a way to honor your people's sacrifice for you, Your Highness? You won't even look at them while they're suffering for you?"

A sob that he could no longer hold back came from Findekáno's lips but could never make it past the echo of the new, broken scream from one of his oldest friends when the hammer drove the nail through his flesh in a single strike.

It didn't last long, because the elf had finally blacked out which didn't stop Sauron from repeating the same cruel process on the other arm so that his victim came to even more inhuman pain. With the second nail in place, the chains were no longer necessary to hold that marred, infection-weakened, writhing body in place as Morgoth's butcher reached for his knife once more. "Did you know, my precious Prince," he said calmly while he put the blood-smeared tip to the elf's left side, right under the ribcage, "there's at least four organs a Firstborn body can survive without? And a dozen others of which you can take at least half away before you need to sing the rest back together to function? You should know. I've fed a couple of your husband's parts to my wolves. I think they might get some more elvish dinner tonight." The knife started to cut. With a disgusting, meaty sound, a mess of red and yellow was dropped in a bucket below the table.

But this time, it wasn't the captain's scream that filled the room the loudest but a sound Findekáno hadn't known he was about to make before it came, his resolve shattered into pieces.

"What was that?" Now it was Sauron, not even looking up but reaching for needle and thread instead to close the crude cut he'd just made before his victim could bleed out on him. "Anything you want, my precious Princeling? All you have to do is ask, you know."

"Please." This time, the word came quietly, but clear and unmistakable. Apparently, after all this time that Findekáno had thought he would be the rock in their relationship, had to be, because Maitimo didn't have the strength anymore, it was time to admit, that his husband had been the stronger one between them from the start. Perhaps, when it came to it, if Findekáno would only ever leave this fortress again an enemy of his own people, no longer the master of his own mind and thoughts and will, his husband would even be strong enough to kill him before Findekáno could beat him to it. "Stop. If it is me you want, release my people."

"Is that an order, Your Highness?" Wholly unimpressed, Sauron moved to his victim's other side and caressed the quickly, panicked heaving chest with just the tip of his knife, as if trying to make out the best spot to continue his gruesome work. "I do not need more food for my troops and beasts. I need a servant loyal to me and my master. Is that what you want, Prince of the Noldor? To serve the Dark Lord?"

"Yes." It became easier, Findekáno found dully, once you had given in to your fate. He did not even shy away from that triumphing, flickering stare of his enemy any longer. Maybe it would hurt less if he let himself fall for it quickly.

"Yes, what?" His hand wandering lower, Sauron thrust his knife deeply into his victim's loins, spearing a kidney, impatiently wiping blood of his cheek, both from the new horrible wound and from the captain's mangled hand, from its useless, mindless attempt of freeing itself from the nail crucifying it.

"Yes. Master." Findekáno never lowered his head. There was no use, trying to look away now.

"Better. We're getting there." Sauron just left his tool right where it was, impaling his victim's body in a third place, and went to the back of a room to open a silver box with the symbol of his eye on it that had been waiting there from the first hour on. A flash of gold and obsidian shone in the bright candle light as he slowly approached Findekáno, dangling from a lazy finger a broad collar with sharply carved tips at the top and the bottom. In the hand of a fire maia, the horrible adornment quickly started to heat, a dangerous orange glow matching the hair of Findekáno's torturer, pulsating right in front of his eyes when Sauron stopped by his chair and grabbed his chin, forcing him to surrender to that black stare again. "Ask for it, my sweet little pet, then I might think about allowing your incompetent captain over there to die."

The last of tears dried on Findekáno's skin as he left a part of him behind that he knew would not return, no matter how his life would look from now on and for how long. I'm sorry, Russo. "Please, Master, put your collar on me. Let me serve you."

"So easy." With a lazy snap of fingers, the chains holding Findekáno clicked open, allowing his knees to give out under him all by themselves when an ice-cold hand was wrapped around his braids, shoving him off the chair.

He thought, he could fight, for a moment. But he'd also thought that when they had first brought him into this room, and the rest of that day, he'd spent watching fifty orcs raping one of his best friends to death, so that spark died down as quickly as it had come. It had been too late to fight the moment he'd let himself be foolishly raided from behind instead of securing the area well enough.

"Your father should thank me that I'm taking the weakling that calls himself his firstborn from him," his enemy chuckled, a clear hint of arousal mixing into the purr of triumph in his voice as Findekáno winced and gasped for air, in vain, as the collar was closed around his neck. Melted into one by a single hummed tone, the heated metal was scorching his skin, the first exhausted attempts of breathing, of swallowing leaving marks and cuts on him. "This does look a lot prettier on you though than on your lover, my new favorite pet. Why don't you show me how you like to please him?" Under the approving cheers and leering of the orcs, laces were opened without haste. Thick, crooked hardness brushed Findekáno's tight lips, with ridges and barbs adorning the misshaped appendix that he knew he would soon feel somewhere entirely else and be forced to pretend and love it. If nothing else, at least Sauron was predictable.

But Findekáno didn't move, not yet, ignoring that hand in his braids that was grabbing him harsher by the second. His eyes wandered to the table in the middle of the room that was dripping blood on the ground in a slowly growing pool.

The sounds of searing agony from there still hadn't fallen silent.

Sharp fingernails scratched over his cheek, prying his mouth open with ease, the first brutal bump of hardened flesh against the back of his throat cutting off any protest before it could come. "If you worry about him so much, I suggest, you hurry to please your master, pet. It's only up to you how much more your people will have to take before I let them go."

It was another lie, of course, but one, Findekáno thought, he could live with. None of his soldiers would leave this fortress alive. If he could keep Sauron's filthy paws off of them for the rest of what was their ruined life, he would, at least, have done something right in the mess that his life had become. Findekáno had given up.

#Sauron #fingon #sauron's lab #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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The Color of Friendship Review (Commissioned by WeirdKev27): A World of People

Happy Black History Month! Another day, another comission from longtime supporter of the blog Weird Kev and like a good chunk of his-non duck asks, he asked me for something outside my usual wheelhouse. In the past this has meant an episode of the short lived fox show whoops in which we found out how Santa dealt with the end of the world, didn’t know how doors worked, and interacted with some characters so thin you could remake the episode with just Mick Foley in a santa suit and carboard cutouts playing the characters lines and it’d be about the same, and earlier this month Sorry Wrong Meeting, an episode of a sitcom i’d never seen an episode of the Jeffersons about the KKK. So unsuprisingly his big comission for Black History Month was the 2000 Disney Channel Original Movie, The Color of Friendship.

I couldn’t find much on the making of the film, which dosen’t entirely suprise me as at the time this came out, Disney was releasing around 10 a year and whlie that stopped shortly, it still was a whopping 6 a year for some time, ocasionally more ocasionaly less, slowly dwindling down to the two of year we have now. Though it’s still an ongoing concern and has been since the channel started in 83, closing in on 40 years ago, so it’s still impressive Disney hasn’t just outright phased them out. Then again the popular ones make them a lot of money and some like High School Musical and the Descendants Trilogies have broken out so big they’ve lead to spinoff books, tv series in the latter’s case, and all that stuff making them money hand over fist. So making some cheap movies that MIGHT end up making them rich and usually star people that are already on shows they have or were at one point is a no loose proposition, especially now they add an extra release to the Disney Plus callender twice a year. And while the library has it’s gaps and i’ve griped about them enough.. I will say it’s stil la damn good library and it’s nice to be able to watch a film like this, as the dvd was LONG out of print and likely horribly expensive, and while renting it was an option, it would’ve chipped into what I got commissioned for the film. Still would’ve done it it just would’ve sucked to loose money on the deal, if only two bucks, for something I had no control over. Still would do that over adding it onto the comission fee. Point is stuff that’s not been easy to get for some time is now just a few clicks or taps of the remote away, and having the VAST majority of disney’s long and storied history from theatrical to dcom to weird tv oddities like.. this thing

I don’t know what Fuzzbucket is, and frankly I don’t want to know.. I mean I will for a comission or something but i’m not going to go out of my way to find out what that thing is and if it can give me scabies through a telvision screen despite being fictional and proabably long dead. At least I tell myself it’s long dead so ic an sleep at night without worrying about that thing breaking into my house and watchnig me while I sleep changing “SOON JACOB, SOON”. So yeah while you’ll hear me complain about the gaps in DIsney Plus’ library a lot on this blog.

I will give credit where it’s due, and what is on there is pretty expansive and now includes the Muppet Show, which I give them full credit for as that probably took a LOT of work and money to make happen. Plus WandaVision is fucking fantastic, especially now i’m finally all caught up.

But while as I said I couldn’t find much on the making of the film I did find a bit on it’s inspiration: It was inspried by a short story wrtten by Piper Dellums, a writer, poet and activist, and daughter of Ron Dellums. Dellums is a notable congressman who fought against apartheid and constantly fought for a bill to divest from South Africa, something that SHOCKINGLY, Ronald Regan tried to veto because he was a racist disney anamatronic what did you expect, and all in all seemed pretty awesome. He sued Bush SR to try and prevent Desert Storm, in his earliest days in office had an exibit near his phsyical office of vietnam war crimes to try and hold them acountable and in general seems to be a fascenating, hardworking man who constantly and religiously fought for the people and against war.

The story was a real life account of the Piper’s experince housing a South African Student, Marie, who the Delums Family expected to be black.. but turned out ot be white. During Apartheid, south africas racist as hell and horrifying goverment system of segregation that wasn’t abolished till the 90′s. As expected she was racist, but as a proudct of the horribly racist country she came from and much like with her fictional counterpart in this film, slowly grew to realize how fucked up her homeland was and by the time she went back, became an activist She and Piper were very close but her story ends tragically as eventually Piper stopped hearing from her after she was arrested and despite attempts to talk to her.. it was clear by the silence, and by the fact Piper visited South Africa post-aparthied to help and likely would’ve seen her.. that she was likely quitely killed by the state. But her story thankfully lives on, so join me under the cut to see how a 20 year old disney movie aired during black history month handles this difficult real life story, racisim and the 70′s.

The Cast: Quick bit about the cast since I usually do this for first episodes of an animated show and wish i’d done so for my other film reviews so far. Though to keep things simple, i’m only doing the main four cast members, especailly since frankly outside of Mahree’s parents the rest are more supporting roles that don’t have a lot of screen time and in hte case of the south african embassy workers, are just there to be racist card board cutout villians. Piper, who keeps her name from real life is played by Shadia Simmons, who eventually retired from acting to become a High School and Acting Teacher. During her career she was in a bunch of Disney Channel Original Movies, including the first two Zenon Movies, and was in a major role in a bunch of live action childrens shows: I Was A Sizth Grade Alien, Strange Days at Blake Holsely High, and Life with Derek, the only one of which i’ve seen and even then barely so I can’t comment on the rest of her work. Simmons does a decent job in the film, and does shine in the more dramtic scenes, not the best part of it but certainly not bad at all.

Lindsay Haun plays Mahree, and had more of an acting career after this one, having a small recurring role on True Blood as Hadley, while also directing some smaller films. Haun is easily one of the two highlights of the movie and the best of the two main tween actresses by a mile. More on that in a bit.

Next we have Carl Fucking Lumbly as Congressman Ron Dellums. Carl has had a long and storied career and the fucking is because of what I best know him from: Playing the Martian Manhunter Jon Jonzz on Justice League. And let me not undersell it: his version of Jon is waht made me LOVE the character, still do to this day, being the first time I encountered any version of Jon and the one I still love the most, a stoic man who tries to adapt to a world he feels he can never be a part of, adding shades to his stitled demeanour to show off his emtitons and in general being the heart and soul of what made this verison work and made me love the character with his performance. He’s done other stuff too including Cagney and Lacey, Doctor Sleepand what have you.. but he’ll always be Jonn to me and that’s not a bad thing in the slightest. Unsuprisingly he’s the other standout here.

Finally we have Penny Johnson as Ron’s wife and Piper’s Mother Roscoe, who played Captain Sisko’s love intrest on Deep Space 9 and was one of the leads on castle. Haven’t seen either of those but she does seem awesome and does a terrific job here.

Moving on to the film itself.. it’s really fantastic. It has some awkwardness and goofy bollocks as you’d expect from a disney channel original movie in 2000, but it handles a really heavy subject, race relations, gracefully and clearly with the goal of educating an audience with a lot of white kids in it about race. So I can praise what it does right i’m going to be handling the parts that are a bit wobbly first so I can get to the good stuff

Awkwardness and Goofy Bollocks:

First the out and out criticism: The films TV Movie roots show in places, as this film lacks the polish these films would have later this decade, with the film barely having an opening title sequence and just sorta throwing you in, though to their credit it does open with the utterly awesome Back in Love Again, because 70′s.

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That slaps and that’s an undeniable fact. What’s also an undenaible fact is the film dosen’t try the hardest to be very 70′s in it’s sets and what not, though it does do it a little with the clothes and that not being the case with Mahree is intentional, as her family while wealthy is from another culture and one literally and metaphorically behind the times.

I will also say Shadia Simmons is a decent actress, but is mildly weak in comparison to the other 3 in the leads, but its more the result of putting a pretty standard child sitcom actress up against two experinced actors who know what their doing and one whose about as experinced as her, but simply has a LOT to work with and goes above and beyond. It’s less that she’s bad and more that she’s simply not as good as what’s around her, and in general I tend to go easier on child actors since it’s not an easy job for a grown adult much less a teenager, it’s very pressurey and there’s a reason a LOT of them bottom out as they get older or retire all together.

I will say though that Piper’s brothers are awful and I feel are only there because she actually had brothers. The actors try, i’m not pinning this on them but writing wise their just two little shits who contirbute ntohing of value to any scene their in, being generally way to young to get into the heavy topic at hand, and mostly being there for unfunny shneanigans. They aren’t in the film too much otherwise they might’ve ruined it for me, but if Shadia struggles a bit agianst sttronge perofrmances imagine who younger actors with the stage direction “Be the bane of my existence” and you’ll MAYBE see the problem.

The film also loves cheesy time passing montages, including an actual factual shopping montage, easily the goofiest, but it’s something you’d expect from a dcom and helps lighten the mood. That’s a running theme outside the brothers there really isn’t anything too silly.. until the last act. See in the last act, the film tackles the real life death of Steve Biko, a South African activist against apartheid who was captured by the state and very transparently murdered in jail. with the government claming he killed himself which no one bought because why would they, and it sparked riots worldwide and finally got the US to take Apartheid seriously according to the film. Though as I mentioned earlier Regan did not in case you thought the republican party being terrible and deeply racist was a brand new thing. It was not. Guys like Tucker Carlson and Former President Trump are a symptom, not the disease.. though they certainly look and feel like some form of plauge. Point is Mahree is breifly taken by the embassy.. whose staff who take her feel like the Disney Channel Original Movie form of Nazi’s. The heavy accents, the way they compose themselves... I half expect an elderly indiana jones to show up to whip the piss out of them. And dont’ get me wrong, the only diffrence between these pricks and a nazi is the fact they don’t call themselves nazis, this isn’t a nuanced horrifying racist to be scared of but a saturday morning cartoon version.

While white supremacists in real life can be cartoonishly evil, again see trump and carlson, it does kind of undercut the seriousness and nuance of things to have your villians be cold, cackling cutouts who are 5 seconds away from saying “You are part of the rebel alliance and a traitor take her away” to our heroine, especailly since Mahree’s reaction to being taken away and confusion at everything and at being treated like a prisoner by her own people are very painful and very well acted. I do get showing them as monsters, because they were, but given Mahree’s father who as a south african police man was DEFINTELY ONE and even outside his racisim doubts and downtalks his own daughter, still feels like an actual person, if not a GOOD person, they could’ve done better and did in the same film.

But that stuff aside.. I really can’t find much that’s honestly that silly or bad and as you can tell what little I did was more a product of being a tv movie. So now i’ve got the negatives out of the way

This Film Is Pretty Good: It truly is, for a lot of reasons. But the biggest is the nuance. It could’ve been easy to just have Maree as some racist kid needing to learn a lesson who was openly cruel and easy to jeer at.. but the film went iwth the reality: that she was instead an extremley privlaged and insulated girl who simply NEVER knew better. To her her very racist and segregated world is just the way the world worked for her and she dosen’t even consider when the Dellums come to pick her up minus Ron these aren’t servants and her own servant’s words fall on deaf ears, as the poor woman tries to make it clear how miserable her life is and how much she deseprately wants this child to do better. Marhee is never actively malicious even when, due to the shock of her all black host family, she baricades herself in Piper’s room. It’s obnoxious sure and CERTAINLY hurtful and the film makes no bones about it and Piper rightfully calls her out on it. The film dosen’t let her get away with any intetnional racisim like that and after Piper calls her out, she realizes she’s been selifsh and makes a genuine effort. And even then the film makes a good choice in not making it an easy road to realization. Mahree makes a genuine effort in the first place not because of any big revelation or anything, but because she simply hears her dad in her head telling her she’d give up after a week and that, coupled with Piper’s words, makes her see herself as a selfish brat. Even after she’s floored by a mall where black and white people stand side by side aand casually talks about horrors like ID Cards like i’ts a GOOD thing, because that’s what she’s been taught by her dad. That black people are happy being told where they can and can’t go when no they weren’t they simply had no chocie in the matter. And while we do see early on when an asshole at a restraunt assaults a waiter for an accident that Mahree clearly isn’t okay with the more horrifying side of things, she still dosen’t quite grasp WHY that happened, simply that it’s something that does reguarly she dosen’t like. It’s excellently, and unsuprisingly called back when they visit an ice cream place in the states and something similar happens.. but the guy takes it in stride, even ordering a sundae, to Maree’s confusion.

It’s what makes the film work and all the more striking: As Roscoe makes clear to Ron, whose admant about nto having a racist in the house, this is not her fault. While the film makes it clear Mahree’s behavior at first was not okay and her prejudiece is not okay, it also makes it VERY clear she’s a product of a terrible system and terrible parenting from people who choose to benneift from the system instead of challenge it. She’s only like this because she hasn’t had a reason to ever think diffrent and just took her parents at face value and no mater the country, this is something that sadly happens far too often: Someone hating a group or thinking discrimination is okay because that’s how they were taught and that’s all they’ve known and the only way to change that is to challenge that opinon and try to get them to have some empathy and see the other way and as this film shows it’s a struggle.. and at the end of the day while the Dellums make a concentrated effort, Maree is the one who has to realize what her parents taught her is bad and her country is inherently flawed and NEEDS to change, just like ours did, and STILL badly needs to.

And that’s where the nuance kicks in as the good congressman is understandable in not wanting a racist in his house... but his wife is equally right that Maree is not some easy symbol of his hatred towards south africa, but a girl who grew up knowing nothing more than the fucked up system, and eventually he comes around, realizing , especially after she apologizes for him even thinking she’d use a racial slur on piper after a very powerful conversation with the two and piper accidently saying she used the South African N Word, almost accidently getting her friend thrown out, that she simply hasn’t been outside her shell and gently guides her to keep reading roots, even letting her take it with her if she wants back home. The film shows the full pain of the situation but also shows change is posisble. Again it’s not easy, Mahree has a panic attack waiting in an almost all black line in school and it’s shown to be as horrible a thought as it is., but she DOES change and it comes off as real, as someone realizing the system they grew up with is broken and needs to be fixed and she can’t just sit back and let it.

What makes this happen, besides the aformentioned kidnapping by saturday morning cartoon racists, is Piper confronting her after a friend from south africa forces Piper to acccept that while her and Mahree are friends, Mahree might not seee her as equal and Piper in turn in a heated argument and easily Simmons best performance of the film, that things are broken and wrong and that her “firend”, her nanny/servant back home, is not happy. It leaves Mahree crying and Ron telling her the honest truth: Change was, and again still is but this was 2000 and while we should’ve had this talk disney channel wasn’t ready for it, needed to make things better here.. and tha’ts what south african’s doing> Fighting for equal rights at last. It’s some powerful, heavy as hell stuff you woudln’t expect from a line of movie that also include a robot house, before that was an actual thing, a merMAN dad MerMan, a boy slowly turning into a leprechaun, and at least two diffrent movies centering around wacky kidnappings. It’s a nuanced and hard look at race, as hard as late 90′s jsut turned into the 2000′s disney could get mind, aimed at kids and the film, whiel stilted really has my utter praise. It’s genuinely moving, well acted and teaches a valuable message that while not eveyrone can change.. it dosen’t hurt to try and help them, as well as the equal message that change start with YOU. someone has to WANT to be better and learn and actually let other people in to help them. And I wont’ lie and say this is the most naunced or subtle film.. at time’s it’s about as subtle as a ralph wiggum throught he window

But sometimes you don’t need to be. It also taught kids about apartheid, not me as I barely saw the film, but many learned of something ghoulsih that had barely ended at the time of the film’s release, something I only learned about as a teen via bloom county and a diffrent world, which has an utterly awesome apartheid episode “A World Alike”. Seriously check it out if you have prime, as it shows that america isn’t the only country with a deep history of ingraned racisim. And was it an easy way to have an anti racisim narriative without fully confronting america’s own racist history? Yup. Just.. yup. Can I blame Disney Channel for it when they clearly, while equipped to tackle racisim, weren’t ready to tackle something that dense or heavy, and while Proud Family later would there’s a diffrence between a 20 minute one off episode of a cartoon and 90 minutes of film? Yeah. For what it is and for what the time period is, I applaud this film taking on such a heavy topic with grace. Some goofyiness here and there yes and some lack of subtly.. but still grace. For what it is is, it’s pretty good and i hope to show it to my nieces one day soon. It has i’ts heart in the right place and thus has a place in my heart. See you next rainbow.

#the color of friendship #disney channel #dcom #disney channel original movie #black history month #black lives matter

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legobiwan · 4 years

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Just got home from The Rise of Skywalker. No pithy intro, I’m just going to jump right in and it’s going to be a LONG rant here so buckle up, my friends, and be sure to read below the cut. SPOILERS AHOY YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Okay, so yes, the first third of the movie went at a blistering, nearly nonsensical pace. JJ really had to cram a whole watermelon’s worth of exposition into a...well, you know, there was a lot to take in. This movie had to do so much telling instead of showing because it was such a departure (and middle finger to TLJ) from what came before.

The thing was, the first third was also the most interesting part of the movie. I actually wish the whole trilogy had started with all of the Sith nonsense. (Actually, I wish they had started with Kylo absolutely wrecking shit like he did and then the Palpatine scene. People would have made all the wrong assumptions and it would have been glorious to unravel it over three films.) There is a strong history of Sith artifacts in both Nu-Canon and Legends, and it wouldn’t have been out of place, considering what we know now, to have made Rey, Poe, and Finn’s quest for these artifacts the start of the new trilogy, and then told the rest of the story in a non-linear timeline. Probably too experimental for a Star Wars reboot, but it would have grabbed attention and everyone like creepy Sith shit.

Frankly, I would have dropped zombie-robot Palpatine at the very start of the trilogy, as well. It’s bonkers but I don’t hate the Rey Palpatine thing and they could have spent the rest fo the movies explaining this weird-ass lineage and how it relates to Kylo, Snoke, etc. and then have built back to the final confrontaion on Exegol.

Leia. Trained. Rey. I so so so so so wished we had been able to get more of this. This, in my mind, is what it should have been all along. I liked TLJ (okay, so shoot me) but Master Leia is a whole other level of awesome. If I had to rewrite Luke and Leia’s roles, it would have went something like this:

Luke was searching for Sith artifacts. Luke was becoming disillusioned by what he was learning of the Jedi through “The Sacred Texts.” WHO DOES THAT SOUND LIKE? Hmmmm, I wonder....

Could you imagine Luke started to go a little Dooku in this respect, and so instead of fucking off the Ach-To because he had a feeling that was more “gravy than of grave” about Ben Solo’s dark sidedness, he fucked off to Ach-To - or even better - gave up training in order to keep himself from going down a darker path.

And so instead, Leia is getting involved with training (and probably also governing at the same time because she would be an overachiever like that.)

Enter Ben Solo, who is Force sensitive, strong, being trained by his mother and occasionally his uncle, who is not totally plugged into the light side at the moment, which can rub off on Ben. Meanwhile, Han is maybe not the best father (he wants to be, he tries, but it all comes out wrong. I’ve been watching a lot of Psych lately, so I’m thinking of a dynamic similar to Henry and Shawn, but a little more dramatic.)

Of course, Palpatine is seeing all of this behind the scenes, he’s fostering ill will and discontent through the scattered remains of the Empire, sending Snoke clones out to be almost pseudo-religious/cult figures in the wake of the economic and social devastation left by the Empire’s fall and the floundering new government. Extremism, in pockets, rises. Extremism which preys on discontent, which preys of the desire for family, for belonging.

Enter again Ben Solo, who has been pitted against the other strongest trainee, Rey (insert whatever last name you want. She knows it’s not her real name, she knows she was an orphan on Jakku, but she was brought by Luke to be trained). Ben is pissed how she and Leia bond, has been talking to his uncle, and perhaps encountered a Snoke clone on the way.

Rey, on the other hand, is no one but wants to be someone, and that manifests in weird ways during her training. Perhaps she leaves at some point, perhaps not. But the seeds of her being Palpatine’s bloodline are laid within her. She wants to seek that belonging Ben has.

Okay, but getting away from my personal rewrites of the sequels, Star Wars is about family and lineage, both blood and found. There was so much potential to play on this throughout the trilogy with the Skywalkers, with Rey’s relation to Palps that if they had just planned the damn thing, it could have been brilliant.

Moving ...(for now)

I felt so bad for Oscar Isaac. I felt like I watched his soul slowly depart his body over almost 3 hours. That man was not a happy camper and it came out in his performance.

Power levels. Here’s the thing, guys. Magic needs to have consequences. Sure, you can cast a spell, but what does that take from you? You can use the Force, but to what degree? How much? Even Anakin exhausted himself at some points, and he was (allegedly, according to one Qui-gon Jinn), the Chosen One. It’s the first law of thermodynamics - energy can neither be created nor destroyed - and the Force is literally the energy of every life thing in the galaxy. You take the energy, use it towards something else, it has to drain from somewhere. This is what bugged the hell out of me with Rey’s Force Healing abilities (an ability that doesn’t thrill me to begin with as it’s so easy to overuse). Kylo keels from resurrecting the dead (and yeah, he was pretty beat up already), but Rey barely seems to breathe a beat harder. Once you start ignoring the consequences for magic, you end up like a shitty video game, and one of the criticisms I’ve leveled at the movie is that it feels like a montage of Battlefront and I can’t say that’s totally off point.

JEDI HUNTERS. Ochi. I will bet my right liver we’re going to hear something about this on The Mandalorian.

So I know a lot of people wanted to see Rey Kenobi, but there was one piece of glaring evidence in the film why that would never be. (Aside from Kylo just announcing it to Rey.) She has a lightsaber, but she still ends up using a blaster. So uncivilized.

Speaking of The Mandalorian - Stormtroopers with Mando jetpacks. Hmmm.....

I loved techno-Sheev hooked up to all the equipment just floating. That was creepy as hell and played with the whole cloning and extension of life that was such a large part of the Darth Plagueis novel (which I still consider to be canon, higher powers be damned). Also, Palpy’s glowup with the wardrobe was hilarious.

Dark!Rey was hot. There, I said it.

Let’s talk about romance. Or the lack thereof. Or the shoehorned thereof.

Poor Rose got shafted in this film with no explanation. I didn’t buy that whole thing in TLJ, but god damn anyway. (Finn also got shafted, for different reasons, which I will talk about later.)

If they were going to romance, just let it have been Finn and Poe, Finn and Rey, or fuck it, even a trio.

I mean, I could have bought Reylo if it had been presented better. (With context. Adam Driver is an amazing actor, another thing I’ll talk about later.)

The Reylo kiss though - my theater laughed. No joke.

Of course, this was the same theater that thought Lando was trying to mack on Jannah at the end, so who knows what we were all thinking in there. (On that note, Lando was hilarious because no matter what, he was just having a grand ‘ol time in the movie. I like to think he got a medical spice card in his retirement years and was just enjoying anything that came his way, be it Wookiees, Jedi, starships, wars, whatever.)

While the Reylo kiss didn’t hit the mark the space lesbian background kiss got cheers, so there was some hope for my fellow theater-goers.

Did anyone pick up on Threepio saying the Senate made the bill that would render him incapable of translating the Sith language? No doubt that was a Palpatine move from TCW era.

What is up with these movies and desert/jungle planets? Ugh. Thank everyone for Kijimi, at least that was interesting.

New characters I loved: Babu Frik and DO.

Finn’s Force sensitivity. Yes, I totally buy it. I wanted more. I wanted more fucking context of a Stormtrooper who would have known nothing of the Jedi getting these feelings and then bailing from the First Order (or, if I were writing the movies, bailing from the remnants of the Empire/Snokes weird military cults.) Totally underutilized character development.

We. Were. Robbed. of Good!Ben. Adam Driver is so phenomenal. Form the little we saw of redeemed Ben, he is the perfect mix of his parents, from the “Ow” to the eyebrow wagging, the swagger, the smirks...I LOVED good!Ben. I wanted so much more good!Ben. What a transformation.

Speaking of which - the scene between Kylo/Ben and Han was terrific. I wish we had had more context for why everything went south, but it was so good and the type of family dynamic we really needed more of.

The Knights of Ren looked awesome in this film? They needed to be like the Black Order of Star Wars, and they were getting to it, but not quite there. Gods, they could have been the enforcers of Snoke’s cults (Palpy’s puppet cults) that could terrorize far more than a normal, brainwashed Stormtrooper, who was only useful as cannon fodder (I mean, if we look at the history of the clone army to the Stormtroopers, it would be terribly fitting.)

That ship tug-of-war was DUMB. (See my rant about magic and consequences). But, if Rey was going to shoot lightening Palpy-style and blow up a ship, Chewie should have died. I’m sorry, that’s terrible, I love him, but there needed to be consequences for actions and throughout the film, there were either no consequences or random consequences that were a narrative convenience rather than developed into the plot/characterization/worldbuilding.

Here’s the thing with the ST - there is so much potential. There are some awesome ideas. But they wanted to play if safe with JJ by rebooting the OT, Rian was too far out for them, there was no cohesive storytelling, and so we get these little glimpses into what could have been amidst a shitstorm of trailers for Battlefront 17.

we could have had it allll....

Final rating: 4/10

#the rise of skywalker #the rise of skywalker spoilers #tros spoilers #tros #hello there #rants from the lego compound #and what an appropriate tag it is #rey #kylo ren #finn #poe dameron #sheev palpatine #leia organa #luke skywalker #han solo #bunch of other characters i'm not tagging right now

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redemptionbaby · 5 years

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The Altar is Calling

Pairing: Demon!Low Honor?Arthur/Noble!Reader

Summary: Practicing your vows for an arranged marriage, you’ve accidentally performed them atop an ancient ruined alter, and bound yourself to Arthur

Words: 1240

Author’s note: This is probably kinda bad lmao I’m rusty and tired and Arthur is just whoever I want him to be at this point

The forest has always been a place of serenity, finding sacredness in its lack of change. There’s a spiritual connection to be found when stepping on stones carved long before even your grandparents were born, since eroded and reclaimed by nature. Their markings are faded in clarity and in the memories of generations, once meaningful but now unintelligible.

You find yourself upon this hallowed ground not in search of spiritual clarity, or reflection, but memory. The truth isn’t simply that you’re a spoiled noble girl with nothing better to do than rehearse vows for an arranged marriage, though you look upon it with a sense of complacent dread. The truth is that you’re not allowed to do much of anything else.

“With this hand I will… I will…” Your forgetfulness beckoned you into your own wandering thoughts. Was this family crest little but a burden cast upon you at birth? To be free of the troubles of survival, and robbed of choice in recompense? You tried to continue despite not finishing the first line.

“Love and something something, I promise to be your… wife? No, that sounds stupid. Even for a wedding.” To be completely honest, you paid much more attention to the pleasant sound of your heels clacking against stones than to your recitation. And who wouldn’t? Everyone loves a good heel clack.

“Give me peace and retrospection. Maybe?” The woods echoed with the sounds of your indifference and melancholy. No birds, no rustling leaves.

“And you will be my knight. That part, I know!” you cheered inwardly without much thought, and plopped down onto an area of mossy cobble, with an exasperated sigh escaping you. Did you truly have no talents? Charm, agency, not even memory? That couldn’t be. You were sure you could remember if you really tried. Rehearsal be damned, you had something to prove to yourself.

“With this hand, I will guide you through the darkness

With love and generosity, I promise to be your light

Give me peace and protection

And you will be my knight”

To say you were pleased with yourself was the understatement of the year. But if you were to refuse yourself such simple pleasures as that, you’d scarcely find any enjoyment in life. You were pulled from your contentment by a hand reaching around your waist. A big hand. The warmed, biggest hand you’d ever felt. Not that you were some sort of serial hand-toucher or anything.

Curiosity overpowered what little sense of self-preservation you had. With guidance from the aforementioned hand and the arm attached to it, presumably the rest of the body as well, you spun around to find yourself in the arms of someone you’d never seen before. Someone or something not of this world.

Normally you would not so hastily draw such conclusions, or course. You weren’t judgemental or anything. But the signs were there, in the form of one strikingly handsome man, tall and well built, sporting a pair of curled black horns, a matching black tail, and cloven feet. And yes, his legs were like, kinda hairy, but people sometimes said the same about you. Everything about him expressed his being able to snap you like a twig, but the way he held you somehow told you better. It was a snug and tender hold, not uncomfortable, but precisely the way someone very insecure and simultaneously excited holds something. You were broken away from your thoughts yet again, and like, talk about rude, by a voice. His voice. Low down, drawling, a touch of gruffness, but gentle beneath it all.

“Couldn’ta said it better myself, sweetheart.” The adoration behind his words and his eyes, which you’d now met, was overwhelming. The kiss he planted on your lips was just the same. Suffice to say, you were too dumbstruck with confusion to retaliate. You didn’t know where to start with all this.

“Who are you?” panic, though not evident in your voice, was starting to creep into your chest from your diaphragm like a worm through an apple. If worms actually did that, you’ve never actually seen it, but you’d always wanted to. He had the nerve to laugh in a non committal way.

“Yer husband, as of about two minutes ago.” And also a huge clown, he forgot to say.

“Rather, um, why?” He sighed a little, a mix of both dreamy and relenting, as he saw you clearly didn’t know a damned thing about what happened and you weren’t just gonna make it easy for him by rolling with the punches. But love ain’t supposed to be easy, he remembers.

“Y’said those vows on my altar, darlin’. Though ya might not have guessed it, from the state of things ‘round here.” He gestured to the floor of carved stones, runes just barely aglow with his presence. “Contract’s a contract. And you wouldn’t believe how long I been waitin’ to hear words like those, sweet pea. Never woulda believed they’d come from someone as cute as you. Never thought they’d sound quite that lovely, either.” His expression grows softer, and quite honestly, way harder to refuse as he speaks. With the thought of your former betrothed, whose face you can barely recall now, you can’t say you’re not warming up to the idea of being married to like, a goat-man-spirit or whatever. Just a little.

“You just married yourself a demon, pretty lady. But I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll make ya happy, protect you ‘n all the other stuff good husbands are ‘spposed to do. Arthur Morgan, at your service.” The last part sounds like an afterthought, but you can’t fight your polite upbringing and introduce yourself in turn while he smiles like an idiot, unbeknownst to him.

“That’s a fine name. Real pretty.”

------

Before you know it, for hours you’ve been sat on the stony ground chatting up your ‘husband’. Every so often he tried to inch a little closer to you, and half the time you indulge him, the other half you scoot away and tease him. And Arthur is surprised. You’ve got way more questions about matrimony than you do the whole demon thing. No askin’ about living in hell, or bearing the antichrist. Your most recent question was about if you had to take his last name.

“I don’t expect you to or nothin’, it ain’t exactly interesting, Morgan. Hell, I think I forget it sometimes. Demons don’t tend to care about that sorta thing anyhow.”

His more sadistic, “stereotypical demon” personality starts shining through when he talks about how a lot of demons brand their partners instead. You can see him delight in the apprehension and worry on your face.

“Don’t worry babygirl, I ain’t gonna subject you to anythin’ like that. Not yet, anyways.” Careful, Arthur. Your unmarriageable clown is showing.

A call through the forest interrupts your arguably pleasant chit-chat. Your name. It’s one of the servants. Dusk is fast approaching the horizon, and the scheduled time for your wedding rehearsal must be near.

“Got somewhere to be, little lady?”

“You could say that. There’s something you should know about me, Arthur. I’m betrothed.”

The momentary delight at hearing his own name from your lips is cut short with a simmering jealous annoyance. He quiets it down. You’re not ready to see him like that yet, but someday he’ll be able to bear his soul to you, he can feel it.

“Well. Nobody’s perfect.”

#drabble #writing #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #demon au #au

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darkobsidianquill · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..

Chapter 27

The day after Harry had been dragged out to the Quidditch field to learn the details of the last task, Sirius had written to him asking him what he'd found out. Harry had replied and relayed all of the details he had learned from Mr. Bagman, while leaving out the far more useful details he had gotten from Barty.

Since then, Sirius had been writing him every other day with advice on spells to try practicing and voicing his concerns about the various dangers and speculating on how the plot to get Harry killed, by getting him entered in the tournament, could be played out before the end of term. Sirius was clearly worried about Harry's safety and wellbeing. Harry knew it was entirely invalid and had no fears at all about the upcoming task, but he was still touched by Sirius's concerns.

Sure – if he hadn't gone to Tom all those months ago and joined the man, the third task would have been the event where the Dark Lord had originally intended to abduct Harry and perform his original resurrection ritual, but that plan was obviously out the window now since it would be blatantly counter-productive to their plans. Instead he had given Harry a hard look and told him in no uncertain terms that he would be disgusted if Harry did not win the tournament by an obscene point margin. Harry had laughed.

The first week Sirius sent a letter every two or tree days, but three weeks prior to the tournament the letters started coming daily. Even if they were nothing more than a few brief words of encouragement, a tip or two, or just a muddy paw-print; it was still clear that Sirius was doing everything he could think of to try and help and encourage Harry. Harry was touched.

Harry had continued to send care packages every week ever since the meeting with Sirius after the second task. He had started out by just having the Hogwart's kitchen house elves prepare as much non-perishable food as they could and then shrink it, package it up and send it off with one of the school owls. In more recent weeks, he'd been getting Mixey to prepare things for him since she could go out and buy things that were specifically intended as camp food to last and be easy to prepare.

Tom knew he was doing it but never really commented. Harry knew that Tom didn't exactly hold any fond feelings for the ex-auror. Sirius had been a real thorn in Voldemort's side during the last war. He was dedicated, talented, and creative. He was also, apparently, a very skilled dueler. He had apprehended quite a fair number of Death Eaters during the couple years he worked as an auror for the Ministry.

There were just under three weeks left till the final task and Harry was sitting in Tom's study while the older wizard scratched away at a parchment and periodically reference one of the large tomes he had stacked around his desk. Harry wasn't entirely sure what he was working on, but it seemed important. He had been working his way through a theoretical book Tom had told him to read on magical energy management and conservation during long drawn out battles. He had insisted that Harry wasted far too much energy during their duels and finally grumbled at him to read the damn book.

But he had started to go cross-eyed from all the reading and he was getting a headache. This probably was mostly due to the fact that the book was hand-written in tiny, cramped little letters.

He set it aside, sighed and started to dig through his bag. He pulled out a folder where he'd been keeping the letters from Sirius and started to slowly flip through them. He'd been feeling more and more troubled about his godfather lately. He really wasn't sure what to do about the whole situation.

He had come to terms with the fact that by joining Tom he had essentially abandoned all of the people who had looked after him and cared for him since he first entered the wizarding world, but he found he didn't have a lot of trouble with ditching most of them. Dumbledore was a manipulative bastard who had not only fucked over Harry, but a great many other people, so Harry had no moral problems with considering the older wizard his enemy now.

Ron was an ignorant, childish, and jealous prat. Harry considered him a occasionally-useful friendly acquaintance now more than anything, and that was only to keep up appearances. The more time passed, the more he realized he really didn't like Ron much at all. They really had next to nothing in common. The only shared interest that remained was Quidditch, and even his interest in that had waned considerably. He wasn't even sure he wanted to continuing playing next year. He probably wouldn't, but he knew it would draw a lot of curiosity and suspicion if he quit.

Hermione... Harry really wasn't sure about Hermione. She was bossy and annoying, and exceedingly nosy, but she was also clever, and she did care about him... He was still on the fence with Hermione. He had been ready to put her in the same category as Ron and consider his once-close friendship with her a lost cause, but his companion had been hinting in recent weeks that Hermione could be turned, if he made the effort.

Harry couldn't even fathom this, but the piece of Tom's soul never mislead Harry or gave him bad advice. He didn't exactly spend a lot of time with the soul piece anymore, but it was nice to have him in the back of Harry's mind during some of his classes. Short bouts of discussion kept Harry from going crazy from boredom in his classes. At one point, during a Charms class where Hermione was being especially annoying in her pestering of Ron, and Harry had decided that they were both a total wash, Harry's companion had said to not give up on her so quickly. He basically said to just keep chipping away at her faith in the current authority figures, and she would begin to see the logic in his views. Harry was skeptical, but he figured it couldn't hurt.

However, it was the issue of what to do about his relationship with Sirius that had been worrying him more than the others.

Harry sighed heavily and let the letters setting into his lap.

He felt Tom's fingers lace into his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling some of the tension leave him.

"What is it, Harry?" Tom asked in a soft tone. Harry smiled at it but then frowned lightly.

"I'm... well I'm worried about Sirius."

"Black? What about him?"

"He's still living in that cave outside Hogsmeade. It's just... crap. The only food he's getting is the stuff I'm sending him, but he's still practically starving out there. He sleeps on the ground, and is still living in the same shitty prison robes he escaped from Azkaban in. It's disgusting. Him being on the run like this just... it just sucks."

"I cannot even fathom why he's staying in a cave," Tom scoffed. "Surely he could have found something slightly more hospitable. He's the heir of the Black line. I don't see why he doesn't just go to one of his family's houses. I know there's at least one. From what intelligence I've gathered, I know that after Black was incarcerated Narcissa petitioned to gain control over the family's assets but lost, so as long as he lives your godfather still retains control of them. If he is declared dead, it will probably go to her then."

Harry frowned. "Narcissa? As in Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Yes, your godfather is her cousin."

Harry blinked, gaping slightly before he shook himself and refocused.

"Er, yeah. Anyway, I know that Sirius has stuck to that damn cave because he wanted to be near me. He's afraid that..." Harry barked out a humorless laugh, "he's afraid that you're after me. Or at least some old Death Eaters are. He wants to be nearby to help me out when the time comes. He's doing all of this suffering for me. I just really hate it. Especially since it's entirely unnecessary."

"We've discussed this before. If we hand over Wormtail and get your godfather freed then Black will expect you to come live with him."

"I know." Harry sighed heavily again. "I know it's idiotic, but I can't help but wish he could just stay here." Harry scoffed at how idiotic that idea sounded.

Tom chuckled. "Yes, I imagine that would be difficult to sell. Sirius Black was about as against the Dark as he could get, despite his own magical affinity."

"Wait, what?"

"Even if he fought against it, Sirius Black was a dark wizard. A very borderline dark. Practically neutral, especially after a few years with the Aurors since he refused to use any of the dark spells he'd learned, but there is only so much one can do against that level of hereditary affinity influence."

"Okay, you've lost me. What are you on about?"

Tom sighed and set down his quill completely. "Sirius Black is a Black, Harry. They are one of the oldest, darkest magical family in Britain. If you were to trace their lines all the way back to when humans first mated with magical creatures, almost every creature they descend from was a daemon of some sort. Dark magic is in their blood. In addition to that, I know for a fact from Regulus that he and Sirius received tutoring in the Dark Arts from age seven until they got to Hogwarts, and then every summer afterwards. Sirius rebelled against his family and got himself sorted into Gryffindor – Regulus suspected it was to piss off their father. And if I recall correctly – which I always do – young Sirius ran away from home and ended up living with your father when he was fifteen or sixteen. So that's at least eight years of exposure to the Dark arts, combined with a hereditary propensity for Dark magic. There is no way that Sirius Black could have anything but a dark affinity, no matter how much he personally would have liked to go light, just to anger his family."

Harry was stunned. "Is that another reason why everyone was so quick to suspect him of betraying my parents?"

"Most likely. All it would take is an affintatum reveleo and the natural dark affinity would be obvious. And since all Dark Wizards are Evil Wizards," Tom sneered mockingly with a chuckle, "having a dark affinity would be more than enough for certain factions to instantly judge him guilty. Just one more level to the magical world's ignorance."

Harry sat there quietly for a long time afterwards and Tom finally picked his quill back up and resumed his work.

"Hey Tom?" Harry said, breaking the silence after a very long quiet.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think there's any chance I could turn him?"

"What are you talking about Harry?"

"Sirius. I mean... if I told him the truth about all that Dumbledore's done – all the manipulations and the lies; the fact that it was Dumbledore's doing that got my parents killed, and that left Sirius rotting in Azkaban, I wonder if... if just maybe I could convince him to come to our side."

Tom set the quill down and leaned back in his chair.

"It's incredibly risky, Harry. I don't think you realize just how much Black despised the Dark. And I doubt that having been left to rot surrounded by dementors has helped his sanity any."

"But if I could do it, would you take him?" Harry asked turning a bit and looking up at Tom with hesitant hope burning in his eyes. Tom turned and looked down at Harry for a long time with a blank, calculating look.

"Perhaps..." he said, slowly. "Black was incredibly skilled. If nothing, it would be nice to guarantee he wouldn't be fighting against me. Of course, it's up for debate how much of that skill has stayed with him, and how much of it has been sucked away by the dementors."

"He spent most of his time in Azkaban in his animagus form. The dementors didn't have as much effect on his mind because he was a dog."

"Yes, yes, Harry. You've already told me this."

"Oh! I've got it! What do you think about a swap?" Harry said suddenly.

"What?"

"Pettigrew for Sirius. You're always saying that Wormtail is a worthless piece of trash. He's a miserable minion and he annoyed the shit out of you. It can be our bargaining chip to keep from having to reveal my loyalties straight out. I can go under Polyjuice or something and offer Sirius the information on Dumbledore, and then make the offer that we're willing to hand over Wormtail – with the last year of memories obliviated, of course – if he's willing to come to our side."

"Hmm..." Tom hummed slowly and Harry could see the wheels turning behind his thoughtful eyes. He was planning and Harry grinned widely.

"The only people left who Black is loyal to are you, Dumbledore, and Remus Lupin – correct?"

"Right."

"If we can destroy his loyalties in Dumbledore, that only leaves you and the werewolf. If he shows any indication that he could be swayed at that point you could reveal your loyalties to him as well. It is possible that at that point, he could be fully convinced. At that point, it would also be much easier to sway the werewolf. As a Dark Creature he feels an instinctive pull towards me. The wolf wants to be loyal to the Dark Lord, it is the man who fights it. If we could turn both of them..."

"Yes! Yes!" Harry said excitedly.

"It has potential, Harry, but neither of them have the stomach for what we do. They have both spent their lives denying the darkness within them. Getting them to accept it will not be an easy task."

"I want to try. They're the closest thing I have to family. If there is a chance that I can save them from Dumbledore's schemes and agendas then I have to try."

"Lupin would be a useful resource. A public face to lycanthropy that is non-threatening. Having a werewolf such as him working towards my cause would help build support for the cause of Dark creatures, which would in turn bring more of them to my side..."

"Lupin will probably be harder, but if I can get Sirius to join, I'm sure I can get Lupin too." Harry said with determination.

Tom took on that calculating look again for a moment before a wicked grin began to spread across his lips making Harry suddenly wish he were kissing them.

"And best of all, Dumbledore would likely recruit the both of them when he starts up his little Order of the Phoenix again. They were both members during the last war... it would be good having additional spies inside Dumbledore's midst."

"Yes!" Harry agreed enthusiastically.

"This idea has legitimate merit, but we must tread carefully. Gaining either's allegiances will be tricky and we cannot risk exposing you until we are sure we can convince them, or gain an unbreakable vow of their secrecy."

Harry agreed and the pair began to brainstorm on ideas. After about twenty minutes of discussion Tom stood to his feet and beckoned Harry to follow him as he led the way down to his lab in the basement.

As they passed the door that led towards the hall of cells Harry couldn't help but wonder if Barty Crouch Sr. was still down there or if Tom had finally just killed the man. Tom disappeared inside the lab and Harry quickly hurried after him.

Inside, Tom was standing beside the large work table in the center of the room. All of the potion brewing tools and supplies were shoved to the side or put away. In the center of the table was a stack of parchment that appeared to have a lot of arithmantic equations scribbled across them in Tom's elegant scrawl, and a few other sheets with various rune diagrams.

"What is all this?" Harry asked as he looked down at the complex sheet of numbers and symbols on the table beside him.

"I've been crafting an object. I've been layering some rather complex bits of magic into it and it's taken some work to get all the magic to cooperate together. It's almost done, actually," Tom said absently as he moved aside several things and pulled a very small box forward.

"Crafting something? You mean, like that orb that you had me use on Snape?"

"Not exactly, no. This," he paused and held open the box to show it to Harry. Inside was a silver ring with a thick masculine band and a perfectly spherical green gem set into it. "is for you."

Harry blinked at it in confused shock. "What?"

"As I said, it's not done yet, but when it is, you can key in a very specific set of glamors. Powerful glamors. Not just those worthless childish ones that they teach you in school. It will remember one specific set of glamors, although I'm considering crafting another one that can hold multiple appearances that a person could switch between. For now, this will do. In addition to putting up the fake appearance, you can key certain people into the ring. Anyone that you key into it will see past the glamors and see you for your true appearance."

"Oh! Oh, wow..." Harry said, stunned.

"I've been working on it for you to use during your summer stay here in the manor. By then, more and more of my Death Eaters will be frequenting this place and I am not yet willing to reveal your identity to most of them. Those who will be aware will be selected individually. This will allow you to wander the manor without having to worry about being seen by the wrong person. You will even be able to attend the meetings."

"That's incredible," Harry said with awe in his voice as he looked down at the ring in the box.

"Once I am finished with implementing the last of the spellwork we can set the appearance you wish to use for the glamor. It will also be necessary for you to come up with an alias. There was that alias you were using earlier in the year... Notechus Noir, was it?"

"Oh, yeah... hmm... Well, yes, that is what I used, but I don't think I'll stick with it for this. Too many things were mailed to Hogwarts under that name. I'll come up with something new."

"That is probably wise."

They discussed their plans for a short while longer before it was time for Harry to head back to Hogwarts.

– –

A few more days passed and the populace of the school was slowly growing more and more anxious for the coming task. Exams were also a week away, which was also causing a good amount of tension and anxiety among the students.

Harry was excused from exams because of the tournament but he still studied with the others. He wasn't even convinced he would take advantage of the option to skip out on his tests. He'd come a tremendous way as far as his academics were concerned and he was curious to see if he could manage 'Outstanding's on all of his tests.

That day during a study session that a very insistent Hermione had dragged Ron to, and that Harry had willingly joined, Ron remarked on Harry's willingness to take exams and how utterly insane he thought Harry was because of it.

"If there was any doubt in my mind before, I'm convinced now," Ron started as he shut his transfiguration textbook. "You are completely mental," he said to Harry with absolute conviction.

"Why's that?" Harry asked disinterestedly without looking up from his own book and parchment while he continued to revise his notes.

"Why? Because you've basically got a free pass! I mean, if nothing else good came from you getting forced into this tournament, at least you get out of taking your exams and yet you're still studying! You're mental!"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded him with a mild scowl.

"What! I'm serious! It's insane!"

"I personally think it's fantastic that Harry's taking his studies seriously this year! You could really benefit to learn from his example!"

"Oh, not this again!" Ron groaned.

"Besides, Ron," Ginny said coming up from behind them and plopping down on the couch beside Hermione, "getting out of exams is hardly the best thing that will come out of Harry being in the Triwizard Tournament. With the lead Harry already has, I'd be willing to bet money that he's going to win. Then he gets the prize money too."

Ron groaned. "Ugh. Don't remind me about the money."

Harry kept his head down, ignoring them, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"What are you going to do with the money, Harry?" Ginny asked in an excited conspiratorial whisper. "I can only imagine what I would do if I came into that much money! It would be amazing." She gave a slightly sad sigh and leaned back into the couch.

Harry just made a non committal mumble and shrugged. The truth was that Harry really wasn't sure what he was going to do with the money. He certainly didn't need the money. The correspondences he'd had with Gringotts in recent months made him more and more aware of just how loaded he was. His trust vault was overflowing with gold, and when he reached his magical maturity he would gain access to the ancient Potter family vault which was considerably larger. He had offered the winnings to Tom, since it was Tom's doings that got him into the tournament in the first place, but the man had scoffed and told Harry that it was his money and he should do with it what he wanted. And that 1,000 Galleons was hardly a drop in the water of his funds.

Harry had again insisted, suggesting that it could go towards the war effort but Tom had told him that the considerably sizable sum of money that had been in Tom's vault during his 'absence' had been gaining interest over the years and was more than enough to fund his war for a while. He was also sure that he would have no trouble getting additional financial support from several of his followers.

So again, Harry was left wondering what to do with the Tri-Wizard tournament prize money.

The next morning, Harry was sneaking through the common room under his invisibility cloak – he had just come back from his morning workout, which had degenerated into a very heavy snogging session, and Harry had yet to check himself over for the marks that Tom always left, so he opted to stay under the cloak until he could get up to the 4th years bathroom, when he saw the Weasley twins huddled in a corner over a stack of parchment.

With exams coming up it wasn't odd to find people studying, but it was odd to come across the Weasley twins studying – especially so early in the morning. It seemed far more likely that they would be planning some epic end-of-year prank than actually studying. If that was the case, Harry would prefer to be forewarned so he could try and dodge it.

Harry crept over to the pair silently and stood just to the side to listen in.

"We're going to need some serious capitol if we're really going to do this," Fred... or maybe George, said with a sigh.

"I know my dear brother. If only Ludo Bagman hadn't renegged on our World Cup bets! We'd have enough!"

"We can still get in some betting in the tournament though."

"Harry's a shoe-in to win."

"He's already in the lead and Ron says he's practically turned into a defense genius."

"True, true... but we still need starting capitol for the bets."

"And we've hardly made up from our losses to Ludo."

Again they sighed, this time simultaneously.

"What do you guys need money for?" Harry said as he pulled the hood of his cloak down and exposing only a floating head and neck.

They both jumped and turned in their seats to look at Harry with wide startled eyes.

"Harry!" they both said.

"What are you doing up so early?" one of them asked.

"And sneaking around in your cloak, no less!"

"Are you up to something you shouldn't be?" they were both smirking at him inquisitively.

Harry chuckled and simply shrugged – which probably didn't come through very well considering that he was mostly invisible.

"That's for me to know and for me to know," Harry said smirking. "So what's your deal? What do you two need money for?"

The twins looked at each other doing that silent communication thing that the pair seemed to do before nodding silently and turning back to Harry.

"You absolutely can't tell mum," one twin said sternly.

"Or Ron. He's absolutely worthless at keeping secrets."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I'm much better at keeping secrets."

They snorted. "So we've heard," they said in sync.

"Well?" Harry persisted.

"When we graduate, we're going to start our own joke shop," one of them said.

"We've got a bunch of inventions already down,"

"And a lot more already planned and in the works."

"But we need to do some research and development capitol before we can really get started."

"And even after we've got everything ready, we'll still need a down payment for a shop."

"Or at least rent," they finished, shrugging.

"Hmm..." Harry hummed slowly, giving the pair a long hard look. It certainly wouldn't hurt to have the twins indebted to him. Weasley's were a strictly light family, but Harry got the feeling that the twins were far from having a Light magical affinity. They weren't dark, but they weren't afraid to use questionable magic. And while it was true that they didn't exactly perform all that well on homework and exams, Harry knew they were both brilliant, not to mention incredibly inventive and creative. Would there ever be any chance of him making use of their skills in the coming war, or would that be a pipe dream? Even if it was unlikely, getting them financially indebted to him would be a good first step.

"I can do it," Harry said with a dismissive nonchalance.

The twins blinked at him with obvious confusion.

"Do what?" one of them finally asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can front you guys the money. Hell, if I win this stupid tournament you can have the winnings. A thousand galleons should help get things started, right? In case you guys didn't realize it, I'm the last Potter and have apparently inherited a mountain of gold, and a bunch of property. I'm loaded. I certainly don't need the prize money from the tournament."

"Are you joking!" The other one choked out, gaping at him.

"No that's your job. You're the pranksters, remember?"

"You would really give us your winnings!"

"Sure," Harry shrugged.

"We'll pay you back," one of them said with a determined nod and the other one assumed the same determined face and nodded his agreement.

Harry waved it off, "Don't bother. Maybe I can be a silent partner and you guys can give me free merchandise."

The twins were still stunned but finally they looked at each other for a minute. They turned back to Harry, both looking uncharacteristically serious.

"We won't forget this Harry. And we'll find a way to make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it. Just make sure you succeed at it. Come up with some brilliant inventions and once you get the actual shop started, make sure it doesn't flop."

"We won't let you down, Harry!"

"Yeah, we'll make sure you don't regret your investment."

"Do you need any help preparing for the last task?"

"You're already in the lead, but that's no guarantee that you'll win."

"We'll do anything you need!"

"Help in any way!"

Harry laughed. "Don't worry guys. Besides, even if I don't win – which I will – I'll still give you guys the front money. But like I said – don't worry. I'm going to win." He smirked wickedly and the twins shared a look before grinning back.

They spoke for another minute or two before Harry turned to head up the stairs, just as he reached the bottom of the stairs one of the twins called after he and he turned back to face them.

"Yeah?"

"Is that a hickey we see?" Fred and George asked in sync with a wicked salacious grin on each identical face.

Harry's face went red and a moment later he was scowling back playfully. The twins burst out laughing and Harry shook his head at them before jogging up the stairs.

– –

One week before the task there was an article in the Prophet that caught Harry's attention. Apparently the wizarding world had finally woken up and realized that Mr. Crouch was missing. According to the Prophet his assistant – who just so happened to be Percy Weasley – had been convinced that he had been receiving instructions from Crouch Sr. on a weekly basis, going so far as to insist that he would certainly recognize his own boss's handwriting. Harry found this exceedingly funny since he knew that half of the letters had been sent from Barty, and the other half from Tom himself. They had been coming from two different people, depending on which one of them had had the time to write them, and Percy hadn't even realized.

A thorough search had finally been conducted and people realized that absolutely no one had any idea where Bartemius Crouch Sr. was. Percy had been put under a magnifying glass since then, and had been heavily questioned to determine if he really was an ignorant bystander, or if he had perhaps had something to do with the man's disappearance. Because of this, he would not be allowed to sit in as judge in Crouch's place for the final task like he had for the second task. Instead the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge would be taking that honor.

When Harry read this, he couldn't help but grin. He'd been hoping for an opportunity to speak with the Minister for Magic again. The last time had been before his third year after he accidentally 'blew-up' his Aunt Marge, and he had been too stupid and naïve to understand what an opportunity it was to gain such a powerful ally at the time.

Tom was positive that Fudge felt extremely threatened by Dumbledore. Fudge had been in office for a very long time, by this point – having gotten elected only three years after the unfortunate events that destroyed Tom's original body. There wasn't a term limit for the Minister for Magic, but after having been in the job for as long as he had, the public could easily get bored with him and want something new – or at least something different.

From his research and the intelligence that he'd collected so far, Tom was convinced that Fudge believed that Dumbledore was after his position. Harry had asked Tom if he thought it was true but Tom didn't think so. He knew that Dumbledore would never give up his position as headmaster of Hogwarts, and that would be necessary if he were to take on the job of Minister.

Still, whether the fear was founded or not, it was still there. Fudge thought of Dumbledore as an adversary, and if Harry could demonstrate to the Minister that he was on his side, it could be extremely beneficial to him.

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tigerlilynoh · 5 years

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Almost Got ‘em

Written for the 2019 @spnsummergen. Rating: G Featuring: Original characters, and a couple familiar faces Word Count: 3,143 Warnings: foul language Author's Notes: The prompt was “Early season - demons in hell plotting to take the Winchesters down.” I was immediately inspired by the Batman: The Animated Series episode “Almost Got ‘im.” Summary: Deep in the depths of Hell, a group of demons discuss the two latest pains in their collective ass: Sam and Dean Winchester. Rumor is that the brothers had found the Colt and even killed a demon. Of course, rumors are just big talk— yet a pair of demons patiently listen; their plan is already in action.

Two figures made their way through the halls of the third lowest dungeon in Hell. As they walked the jagged stone walls seemed to close in around them, but their petite, female forms prevented the blade-like rock from tearing at their temporary flesh. Even if they were injured it would be of no importance; they were demons and there was a meeting that they very much wanted to attend.

Both were wearing lean, blonde women who might’ve been mistaken for sisters, but that was the limit of their outward similarity. The slightly older of them wore a gauzy, white dress that, when combined with her delicate steps, gave her the air of a drifting spirit. Her partner was another story. The younger demon’s black combat boots thudded with every step, announcing her presence. Her attire was entirely leather—the cow sort, not human—dyed dark enough to hide spilled blood.

Neither of them said a word as they approached the auxiliary dungeon rumored to be containing an unusual sort of rendezvous. The pair didn’t have anything more to discuss for the moment. They both knew their immediate goals, responsibilities, and when push came to shove, which of them was in charge. They damn well better have known. Between the two of them, they’d spent over a decade putting their respective pieces in order and double-checking their work.

When they reached the unmarked door that they’d heard whispers about, the demon in the white dress pushed it open without hesitation. She stepped through the door with an unassuming demeanor. Her colleague followed her, studying the contents of the chamber with a wary eye.

Inside there were eight lesser demons standing or sitting around a storage room. Three racks had been laid out flat, then pushed together to create an improvised conference table. Five of the occupants were perched on crates of acid, steel nails, and other implements of pain. The remaining three leaned against the far wall, cautiously keeping some distance.

A brutish-looking man with pasty skin, a pronounced brow, and stringy black hair glared at the newcomers from the opposite side of the table. He stared with the intensity of someone who had taken charge—he certainly didn’t hold any noteworthy rank as evidenced by his badly calloused hands that hinted at many decades or centuries of wielding a whip, the shoddy ones meant for working souls.

In a low growl he asked the two women, “What do you want?”

“We heard that this is the place to be if you truly hate the Winchesters,” answered the elder one.

He stared at them for a moment before replying, “Get inside and shut the fucking door.”

The pair entered, closing the door behind them. From the way that everyone turned their attention to a stout demon sitting on a box labeled ‘spiders’ they assumed that it was his turn to speak. The two women settled themselves on a non-technically-iron maiden that was lying along one of the walls as if it were a bench.

The stout demon resumed addressing his audience. “So then I tore the cow apart—six chunks, big ones but still enough to spread around, and some smaller hunks. You don’t want to waste it by piling the whole cow in one corner of the room. You might as well not bother cutting the damn thing up—Anyway, I hung pieces of it throughout the house.” The sound of scuttling inside the box he was sitting on filled the room as he fumed for a moment in anger. “It’s a classic omen! It’s a horror! And the older of the brothers makes a joke about hamburgers!”

“So disrespectful,” muttered a female demon with hollow eyes and frayed white hair. Several demons nodded in agreement with her comment.

“That kind of work takes time,” complained the portly demon. “I’m not a high-caste demon. I can’t just wave my hand and make things move. Do you have any idea how long it takes to cut up a cow? And the first cleaver broke and I had to find a store—”

“Was it a vegetable cleaver?” asked the lean demon with a mangled left arm and long, frizzy brown hair sitting next to him. When he looked up at her face in confusion, she rested her hand on his thigh, then said in a soft voice, “Milmont, sweetie, two kinds of cleavers. Vegetable ones aren’t made for bone.”

“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered a red-haired demon. He was dressed like Billy Idol but his rosy cheeks undercut the attempt at an edgy look. “Did you fight them or not?”

“I fought them!” Milmont replied indignantly. “I had a knife—”

“Paring or bread?”

“—and I swung at the older one’s neck.”

One of the demons standing in the shadows noted aloud, “Swung means a miss. You got your ass kicked.”

The stoat demon flustered a bit before reluctantly explaining, “He shot me in the chest with rock salt and hit me in the face with his gun—”

“You fell on your ass,” guessed the red-headed demon.

“The younger brother can perform an exorcism really fast,” Milmont said while shifting, jostling the box of spiders.

“You shouldn’t have gone after them,” said the brutish leader of the group. “You’re too weak.”

The stout demon glared as he hissed, “I have every right to go after the prey I choose. I’m allowed to prove myself!” He waved his hand at the rest of the room as he asked, “How many of you have been exorcised by them? If you’re here bitching about the Winchesters on your weekly one-hour break, yeah, I’m guessing they made you look like an idiot too.”

Several of the demons nodded in acknowledgement of the point or murmured agreement. The leader let out a small grumble as he reached into an open crate next to him. He pulled out an unlabeled bottle containing reddish-tawny liquid, then yanked the black cork from it with his teeth. After taking a swig, he handed it to Milmont.

“Corceo.” The stout demon toasted him before having a sip.

“You’re lucky that you were only exorcised,” the hollow-eyed woman told him while reaching out, wordlessly asking for a drink. Milmont passed it to her and she took a sip before continuing. “Rumor has it they possess the Colt.”

“Dajhila, they don’t have the Colt,” replied the demon with the bad arm. “I brawled with them ten days ago and they didn’t shoot me.”

“Maybe you aren’t worth the bullets?” jabbed the rosy-cheeked punk.

With her good hand, she picked a knife up off the ground and stabbed it into the wooden table in front of her, inviting him to fight.

Corceo, the leader, hit the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “Tisha, don’t carve Frey a new asshole. He has plenty already,” he joked, earning a chuckle from one of the demons watching from the wall. “The fact is that they had the gun. They killed Tom.”

“Tom was an idiot,” huffed Frey. “The only reason he wasn’t wading through viscera like the rest of us was because he was Azazel’s son.”

“Apparently he was attacking Sam, and Dean shot him,” Dajhila explained. “There were witnesses.”

Frey shrugged indifferently at Tom’s death. “Silver-spooned nepotist should’ve been the one to get his ass beat before he got shot.”

“I’m fine with the younger Winchester getting that bludgeoning,” interjected Tisha. She snarled, “You know that little shit is a psychic? I was so close to killing them. It took me three weeks to lure them to this abandoned insane asylum. I’d murdered twenty people in there—six hunters came before the brothers finally took the bait. That’s the shit I had to deal with in order to roll out the red carpet for those thick-brained, underwear-model-looking—“

“They aren’t that good looking,” said Milmont.

“They are,” countered Corceo. “Now let her finish or I’ll tear your fucking tongue out.”

Dajhila with the hollow eyes quietly said, “We should’ve kept the talking stick.”

Frey held up the pointy, splintered remains of a blood-stained wooden dowel that had evidently been used to stab someone. The woman shrugged, conceding that it had worked better in theory than in practice. The red-haired demon tossed it aside, grabbed the bottle of alcohol from where it had settled on the table, then gestured to their current storyteller.

Tisha waited a beat to see if anyone would interrupt her before continuing. “I swear on my life, that Sam kid really is a psychic. They knew it was a trap. I’m sitting there with a semi-automatic rifle—I’m not fucking around—and all of a sudden the sprinklers are raining holy water.” Her lips curled downward at the memory as she snarled, “Sam used a megaphone from the parking lot to exorcise me. I only got to see their faces as my cloud was getting dragged back down.”

“Jesus,” exhaled Frey. “A megaphone… and you had a rifle.”

“What weapon did you go after them with?” asked Tisha.

He thought for a moment before finally admitting, “A big rock.” Everyone stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter, so he added, “Sometimes simple is best. We’re stronger than them and there was a big rock right there that I could throw— It was a tactical decision.”

“With genius thinking like that, it’s no wonder we can’t catch a break against them,” said Corceo.

Dajhila commented, “The only good news is that the dad, John, he died two months ago.”

“John Winchester, hunter savante— That piece of shit finally dropped?” Milmont looked around, eyes wide with excitement. “What did ‘im in?”

“I do not know.” The hollow-eyed woman crossed her bony arms. “Margot, down in processing, says his file is classified, but it is there.”

Frey leaned forward with interest. “File— We got him? Fucker isn’t playing a harp?”

“In the pit as we speak,” she replied smuggly. “Rumor is that Alastair’s working him personally.”

“Alastair?” asked Corceo. “They’re breaking out the Grand Torturer himself for a Winchester?”

Tisha nodded slowly to herself as she put together a few pieces. “Well, he is classified.”

The two women silently observing from their place on the iron maiden exchanged a knowing glance. The one in leather subtly placed her hand on a bulge by her belt that was obscured by her jacket, but the woman in the white dress discreetly shook her head and gestured for her to wait. At the order, the younger demon gave a quick roll of her eyes before relaxing her posture. By the time they’d turned their attention back to the meeting, the conversation had switched back to discussing different methods of pursuing the still-living brothers.

“Dean is a hedonist,” commented Dajhila. “Take a meatsuit with a figure as an hourglass and lay yourself in his path.”

Tisha raised an eyebrow. “You really think he’s going to fall for something like that?”

“He’s young and proud.”

Tisha countered, “He’s a paranoid with low self-esteem—“

“Here we go,” muttered Milmont.

“—You all think they’re heroes out of a fucking Greek epic, but they’re just men—feeble, petty little things—“

“Little,” Frey scoffed. “Have you even seen them?”

Tisha slammed her fist on the table. “They are mortal children, too absorbed by their grief and self-pity—Yes, they are little, but that makes them paranoid, partially-psychic, sneaky cunts who use megaphones.” She paused a moment to look around the table at the others, then said, “And maybe they don’t have it now or maybe I wasn’t worth the bullets, but they know about the Colt. They know how to kill us— Kill, not exorcise.”

After a brief, pensive silence, Milmont asked, “When was the last time you heard of one of us getting killed? Cain going nuts and turning traitor? That was almost 150 years ago—Earth time.”

Corceo nodded. “Half the crew in my dungeon wasn’t even turned back then. The sniveling pups thought we were immortal until they heard the news: the fucking Winchesters killed Tom.”

There was a grumble of shared frustration at the indignity. Humans had managed to kill demons, for the first time in over a century—and the bastards hadn’t even had the decency to stick around long enough to be killed in return.

“We have to stop them,” said Milmont quietly.

Frey scoffed. “Have you been listening or are ya’ as dense as iron?”

“Oh, choke on a ball of blades,” Tisha hissed.

The red-haired demon waved his arms, sarcastically miming fear.

“Save it. The enemy is up there.” Corceo waited to see if anyone would interrupt, then continued. “I’m tired of all this theatrical, solo bullshit. We murder them in their sleep. If they salt the door, we use guns. If they ward the building, burn it down. Fucking drive an oil tanker truck into them—this is war. So how do we find them?”

Milmont replied, “Since their dad died, my denmate, Bahshin, spotted them a few times with another hunter: male, middle-aged, reddish-brown greying hair and beard, baseball cap, one of those grizzled sorts.”

Tisha nodded. “I know the one. His name is Bobby—don’t know the last name. I’ve run into him and his partner a few times. He sticks to the north central U.S. Rural looking, lots of plaid. He had an old truck.”

“Fucking hick hunters,” muttered Frey.

The woman in leather sitting along the wall wordlessly withdrew a small notebook and pen from her pocket, then wrote down, “Margot: soul processing department grunt,” and “Bahshin: den-dweller, has an Earth pass.”

Corceo eyed the two silent newcomers from his place at the table. “Taking notes? Dainty little things like you gonna go gunning for the big bad Winchesters?” He laughed. “Well get in fucking line. You come here, don’t say shit, and crib off our hard work— How close have you come to offing them? What makes you so cocky you’re gonna be the ones to kill the bastards?”

The woman with the notepad gestured to her partner, inviting her to address the challenge. The demon in white stood up and smiled, unconcerned by the hostile attitude of the others in the room.

“We haven’t tried to kill them,” she replied. “And we have a plan, the likes of which history has never seen.”

“Ready to shared with the class?” Frey asked. “What brilliant plan are you two peons gonna try?”

“We’re gonna give them what they really want.”

Corceo’s eyes passed over the two women. “A pair of eager-to-please blondes in suggestive clothes?”

The woman in the white dress corrected him. “The only one we’re eager to please is our lord, Lucifer.”

A few of the demons chuckled at the absurd statement. Lucifer was a fairytale, as much as God and angels were to the humans.

“I’ll bite.” Corceo’s mouth curled into an amused grin, punctuated by the occasional barbed fangs. “What are you gonna give them?”

“We’re gonna make them heroes.”

The demons around the table laughed outright at the reply.

“You’re going to make them heroes? Those hunter bastards know about the Colt. They killed Tom. They’ve been exorcising us.” He placed his hands on the table and stood up, ready to confront them. “The Winchesters aren’t scared of us—not the way they should be. We’re demons. That still means something. So I don’t know what crazy scheme you’re thinking up, but it isn’t happening. They don’t get to be heroes. They die.”

“They’ll die when we—” She gestured to her partner “—say they die.”

“Looks like we have something of a race on our hands.” Cerceo walked up to her and stood so that they were only a few inches apart. A head taller than her, he glared down at her before hissing, “You think you can beat me to them?”

Her eyes turned white, causing his jaw to drop. “Child you’re busy boasting and we’re on step fifteen.” Lilith waved her right hand, locking the door to the room. In a quick backhanding gesture, she threw Corceo against the far wall, then turned to look at her companion. “Ruby.”

Ruby stood up and smiled as she drew her knife from the holster on her belt. She systematically worked her way through the room, killing the others while her partner held them in place with telekinesis. Afterward, she placed the bodies on the table, then rested her palms on the topmost corpse. A few lines of Aramaic later, blue flame engulfed the bodies, destroying the evidence.

While watching the fire, Lilith asked, “Is Meg ready?”

“She’s still running recon on the other children. In terms of pressure points so far: four have lovers, eight of them are close to a parent, and we have a few like Sam where the sibling could be an incentive. As of yesterday, she was watching the stoner with imprinting telepathy to figure out his achilles’ heel.” Ruby wiped her bloody blade on the sleeve of her jacket to clean it while asking, “Did you take care of Crowley?”

“I encouraged several of his aides to let a few deals lapse. Numbers are down. He’s dying to get a big deal.” Lilith looked at her. “The second Dean Winchester’s soul comes across his desk, he’ll sign off on the contract just to get his name on something. The grubby-fingered broker didn’t check the fine print on John; why should the son be any different? I’ll hold Dean’s contract and the moment he bites it, he’ll get expedited delivery to Alastair’s dungeon. No official processing. No gossip—” She gestured to the smoldering remains of the demon who had accidentally outed Margot as a leak in the processing department. “—No mistakes this time.”

Ruby huffed an unamused laugh. “The two of us sure as hell won’t have time to clean up any messes once this show gets rolling. Round one we could afford to have things go a little sideways. Once we pop up on Sam’s radar, that’s it. We’re in, and I’m not coming back downstairs on a fucking milk run.”

“It will all turn out,” Lilith assured her. “Our lord wills his return. He cannot be denied.”

Ruby didn’t reply to the pious statement. Instead she studied the charred racks in front of them. “I know he’s your mentor and we couldn’t have done this without him, but Azazel can’t survive this. You know that, right?”

Lilith nodded. “When he finishes aligning his pawns, he’ll throw the fight. He knows how important it is that Sam’s anger be directed solely at me. That means clearing the field for the next generation of nemeses.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruby placed her hand on her partner’s shoulder. “When I’m done with him, Sam will be foaming at the mouth to kill you.”

“I envy you,” Lilith sighed. “You’ll live to see our lord. It’s going to be beautiful.”

--------------

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#my fic #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural #spn ruby #ruby #lilith

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rofics · 6 years

Text

Come Together pt 10

Bts gang au x hubrid reader and friend

Warnings: cursing, angst, violence, arguing,

http://rofics.tumblr.com/post/171547795932/come-together-pt-11-bts-gang-au-x-hybrid-reader

Damn gut feelings

I have no idea in hell how I'm supposed to fight in this damn maid costume, it doesn't move! I'll probably rip it in half, then all of me will be exposed.

Leo lunges, claws out to rip my costume but I dodge at the last second, finger barely grazing my arm. The party goers started to scream and fled the ballroom in panicked groups, pushing and shoving each other. I land kick after kick on Leo but they don't seem to phase him at all, fucking Jax.

"Y/N switch! I'll take Leo!" Eli yells, finally springing into action. I nod and kick Leo in the back, right into Eli's fist.

"At long last, I've wanted to kill you for so long Y/N" he spits out my name, and I crack my nuckles.

"I can assure you that I won't be the one to die tonight, Jax" I retaliate, kicking my platform shoes to the side and ripping off my stupid headband.

"You can't win, you don't even know how to use those pathetic powers that you inherited" he states smugly and a tiny hole is punched in my confidence. He is right about that, but I will not lose. I have to avenge Kyra and all of the hybrids he's killed.

I feel a calm settle through me 'I'm with you Y/N, don't worry. I have experience and you have heart, well kill this bastard once and for all' Kyra's voice floats in my head and I nod, clenching my fist.

An ice shard is shot at me so I put up a fire shield that makes the shard fizzle before it can even reach me.

"Of course a piece of shit like you would use ice magic. Who do you think you are? Fucking Gray Fullbuster?" I question with a snort. Jax lets out a human growl that makes me snicker, hand over my mouth.

"You want to growl at a dog? Are you for real? Bro you ain't shit, your bitch ass needed help to escape! I thought you were some big bad wolf, but you're a pitiful excuse for a wizard." I retort, taking steps towards him, fear non existent. He backs up, scary facade seems to wither as I let out an actual growl. One from the bottom of my stomach, deep, feral, ready to attack.

'We're going to remove his magick' Kyra says and I nod, following her voice

My hand reaches out, finger touching his forehead, apparently you can remove someone's power this way. I can only do this because Kyra's family work for a the magick council, like THE council. She was the heiress of their position, posessing the responsibility to take people's powers if they used them the wrong way. It was torture, but it was better than death, the other having no memory of magick, only slight knowledge of who they are. Jax's body crumbles to the floor as a gold essence floats in the air, his power. The beautiful power is tainted by black specks, meaning an abuse of magick. I wave the same hand that was placed on his forehead and the power disappears, going who knows where.

Jax lies on the ground for a bit, the fight between Eli amd Leo stops, luckily they weren't hurt too bad. Jax sits up from the floor and looks around

"Where am I? Who are you people?" He questions, staring at us

"You wandered into a private estate and passed out, we brought you in here so you'd be safe" Sacha says before I can reply so I nod kindly. He stares at her, then stares at me. He nods and slowly gets up, walking past everyone with his shoulders slumped.

"Why'd you let him leave?!" Eli shouts so I turn towards him

"He had no memories of who he was, he's not a threat anymore. He has no more magick" I explain, slipping my shoes back on.

*rumble rumble rumble*

More lightning lights up the sky, thunder roaring and the skies open. Big heavy drops of water pour down, this was strange. The weather was never like this normally. I got another feeling in my stomach, this night was not done. I walk out of the ballroom, Sacha and the others following me in confusion. I get to the main entrance and see Kyra?? At the bottom of the steps. No, no, this isn't Kyra! She had purple hair, this person has blue. The look a like stares at me, lightning flashing behind her, red eyes. She's the one truly responsible for all of this.

"I'm glad we can finally meet. I've heard so much about you form my dear sweet sister" she says, going up one step so I go down one.

"Kyra never mentioned a twin, you must not have been as important" I reply, taking another step down. A bolt of lightning strikes the step behind me but I don't flinch

"I'm the older one, Moira. And I'd watch your tongue mutt, you may have my sisters power but I'm stronger than her" Moira threatens, taking another step up.

"You know, I'm really fucking tired of people calling me a fucking mutt!" I growl, taking another step down, fire licking at my fingers despite the rain. Moira forces another lightning bolt down, it doesn't hurt as my body absorbs it. The twins are elemental witches. I counter with a gust of wind as strong as an f5 hurricane, blowing that bitch down the stairs. She lands on her feet and launches a fire ball at me but I catch it and throw it back, ten times hotter. She yelps and stumbles back

"You may have been stronger than Kyra, but the two of us have merged souls. It's her power with my will, you never had a chance" I say, metal overtaking my body as I clank down the stairs. She makes a fist out of metal and swings but I grab her wrist, forcing it backwards.

"You're not going to win, just stop fighting" I plead, all of this hurting people wasn't fun on my conscience. Moira doesn't listen and keeps throwing weak attacks that bounce off of me, it was pathetic really. I didn't want to do this twice in a row but I grip Moira with my right hand, finger on her forehead.

"This is for your own good" I whisper as I see the horror in her eyes, she tries to break free but I keep her in place. She screams and fights but sags when her power is finally out, the sight disgusts me. Her whole essence of power was pitch black, no gold whatsoever. I wave my hand twice for good measure, that darkness does not need to go into anyone else. The rain and thunder stop, my costume now soaking wet, cold seeping into my skin. Moira straightens up after another minute and stares at me in confusion

"Who are you?" She asks, staring at me so I force a smile.

"You got caught up in the rain and almost collapsed, I stayed with you to make sure you were alright" I explain as her confusion stays. She steps out of my grip and turns around, unsure of where to go until she decides to go left. Her shoulders are slumped as well, head looking in multiple directions. My head droops down, I didn't know how much power it took to remove other powers. Not to mention I was fucking freezing, that wasn't normal rain, it was laced with power. I plop on one of the steps with a groan

"You alright Jinx?" Sacha questions, standing in front of me and I nod.

"Why do the crazies always want me? Why can't people ever go after you?" I pout and she laughs at me.

"Because hares aren't threats to people. Big fluffy Malamute hybrids are" she retorts with a smile and I huff at her with a shiver. A large warm jacket is placed on my shoulders that makes me sigh in content. I slip my arms through and hug myself, sweet sweet warmth. It was Jungkook's jacket, Sacha helps me up and I let out a loud yawn.

"I'm honestly so confused on what happened" Jin sighs, staring into the distance where Moira disappeared.

"I've stopped trying to understand honestly" Tae confesses, leaning on the stair railing.

"Jax was being controlled by Moira, Moira was the older twin of Kyra. Moira was the evil one but was weal against Y/N and Kyra because their souls merged together. Y/N took Moira and Jax's powers so they can't do anymore damage" Yoongi informs matter of factly making Jimin shake his head.

"Still not going to try" he mutters making me giggle.

"Sorry if you guys get roped into this stuff, I really don't know why people have something against me" I apologize sheepishly, looking at them.

"It's because of our family Jinx. They put a lot of people in jail and underground, so their families have grudges" Eli chimes and I groan.

"Come on, we've had way too many eventful days in a row. Time to stay home officially" Namjoon declares, ushering everyone to the limo so I cheer.

"I agree! Let's just stay inside, nobody can mess with us there" I laugh, linking arms with Sacha.

"Wait!" A voice shouts, N? Namjoon turns around to stare at Vixx's leader with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes?" He asks, Jin standing tall next to him.

"I want to thank your bodyguards, for not forcing Leo up on stage in that embarrassing outfit. It was humiliating to my second in command" he says, Leo apparing next to him.

"It wasn't a problem, we're used to making fools of ourselves" Eli says with a smile and I nod.

"It's true, it may have been humiliating at first but we have no shame when it comes to being stupid" I add, sticking a hand out to Leo as a truce. His slender fingers wrap around mine in a slight shake, we pull apart and I stick my hands in Jungkook's jacket.

"Well, we'll get going now. You know how to reach me if you ever want to change sides" Namjoon says, slightly bowing to N. N nods, slightly bowing back as we pile into the limo.

"Anybody want food? I'm starved" Jin asks out of the blue and Eli nods vigorously

"Yes please! I didn't get to eat anything because of that damned performance" Eli whines, pulling his skirt down.

"Speaking of which, you were hilarious up there. I couldn't keep my laughter down" Hoseok praises with his sunshine smile and Sacha beamed at him.

"It was a skit Y/N and I used to do when we were younger, it's a great remake of a great song" She replies happily and I side eye her. She is so damn whipped by him, they for real needed to start dating. My nose picked up on food and I realized that our driver was ordering food for us and boy was I excited! None of us ate dinner because we didn't plan on getting interrupted twice by evil witches. Multiple bags are being handed to us, each picking something to munch on. We made chatter around full mouths and I'm surprised food didn't get everywhere. I stopped mid bite because I was hit with a bad feeling once again. I swear, I'm gonna fight myself if these damn feelings don't stop.

*pop*

The limo began to shake as if it was uneven, a tire went out! The drive wasn't getting any better so I broke through the screen and saw that the driver was, you guessd it, dead! He was fucking dead and we were headed right into a lake. I tried to reach the wheel but my dress got caught and the limo plowed through the guard rail to plummet into the freezing waters. I was thrust right into the windshield, arms out to protect my head. The impact shocked me a bit and I knew we all had to get out of here before we drowned. It'd take too long for this big ass limo to equalize with the water, we'd have to break through. Sacha couldn't swim so she was my main priority as I swim back through the tiny window. I suddenly thought of a spell and whispered it through the water, a breathing spell.

Everyone who was stunned freaked out since they could breathe but I was still in action mode, swimming to the car door to get out. Eli gets in front of the others since the water was going to rush through the door.

1 kick, 2 kick, 3 kick, *clank* the water floods through, but I use my elemental power to ease it, allowing everyone to get out easily. I grab onto Sacha and swim out with her, she clings to me, dress floating in the water. We're almost to the surface but something grips my ankle, yanking us back down. Sacha screams as I yelp, looking down to see some type of sea monster with red eyes. It has crazy sharp teeth and I kick it with my other foot, making it's head snap the other way. Eli's face dives back down into the water so I shove Sacha towards him as another sea creature reaches for me.

They try to drag me down again but I keep kicking, breathing spell reaching it's last minute. Another one sneaks behind me, pinning my arms behind my back. I'm sinking and can't move, I'm trying to wiggle but these fuckers are inhumnaly strong. The spell wears off and panic hits me, I summon a water current under me and knock one away allowing me to kick the other. I'm almost to the bottom of this fucking lake and I really need to breathe. I will my body to heat up despite being completely submerged and it works, their skin starts to sizzle and I get my arms free. I morph my arm into solid metal, swing a little slow in the water but it works on knocking them off of me. When they're all stunned I use water to boost me up to the surface but those things are right on my tail. I see the figures of everyone else, land is right there.

My head breaches the surface of the water and I suck in a huge breath, resching out for Eli's large hand. He grips mine tightly and yanks me out just as one of the creatures was about to grab my leg. Three pairs of red eyes peer out of the water at me, making me shudder as I I feel the ground around me. I'm soaking wet and break out into a fit of coughs, some water comes back out and I shiver.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook questions, kneeling in front of me and I shake my head.

"What in the hell happened?! What were those things?!" Sacha yells at the water, throwing a rock in.

"I have no fucking clue Bee. They were some kind of sea creature with red eyes, after I handed you to Eli another came and had me by my arms. My breathing spell wore off so I used the water and fire to get those things off of me." I explain through shaky breaths.

'I think they were associated with Moira, they're eyes are the exact same color as hers. I don't know how her power held but it's possible we didn't extract all of it' Kyra's voice says and I scoff

"Kyra says Moira may have excess power, because the eyes color of the crestures was the exact same shade of red as hers." I simplify, ringing out my skirt.

"Well shit, and how are we supposed to get home? All of our phones won't work" Sacha questions but Eli snaps his fingers.

"Mine will! I customized it so it can withstand any climate, even being drowned in water" he states proudly, pulling it out of somewhere I probably don't want to know about. He hands it to Namjoon who punches in a number

"Hey, yeah we need a ride. Yeah, it crashed, we're by the giant lake on the way home. Okay, make it quick, it's fucking cold." He says, ending the call and hands it back to Eli. The sky was already dark, wind freezing our soaked clothes. Regardless of the cold, we climb up the small hill back up to the road and wait. I try and warm my body up with fire but nothing happens, I must be too tired to conjure it.

A few minutes go by in silence and another black limo pulls up, Namjoon opens the door and we all get in, sighing at the warmth. The ride is silent until Jin breaks it

"You know we're a gang right? We don't deal with this kind of stuff, witches, brain washed hybrids, sea creatures! We deal with humans, and we've been in wave after wave of supernatural shit because of these three. I'm tired of it, you three are such bad luck it's insane" he says, making me lower my head in shame, ears dropping down and causes Sacha's eyes to water. Her ears twitch before curling down in sorrow.

"Really? You want to say that after those two have saved you on countless occasions?! You think we don't feel like shit because we've brought this on you? Do you know how many times Y/N has sacrificed their body for you?! To protect your selfish ass from creatures and humans! Who wakes up early every morning to help you cook! We didn't have to accept the offer to protect you, but we did. And if you want to act like this I'll gladly exit this limo and walk my ass back to my own house." Eli yells, temper flaring as he stares Jin in the eyes.

"Don't waste your energy Eli. He's right, I'm a bad luck magnet. If this is how you feel I'll leave, I do feel bad for bringing all of this stuff to you. We can stay with Eli" I whisper, not taking my eyes off of the ground.

"Jin shut up, I don't care if you're the oldest. I'm the leader and you three are staying, that's final" Namjoon growls, staring at Jin.

"He's kind of right Joon. All of this supernatural and hybrid craziness is getting out of hand" Jimin mumbles, chewing his lip. Yoongi gives the faintest of nods and I feel my heart rip in half.

"Okay. If we're that much of a burden we'll leave you alone. Drop us off right here!" I say to the driver, voice holding no emotion.

"No please! You don't have to go!" Namjoon pleads but Sacha shakes her head

"It's obvious that we cause too much trouble, I'm really sorry but this will be the best for you all" Sacha says, voice wavering as a tear rolls down her cheek.

"Bee please don't go" Hoseok begs, grabbing her hand.

"I'm sorry Hobi, but it's what they want. I'll keep in touch with you" she cries, tears pouring down her face. I'm the last one out and shut the door gently, holding back a sob. Eli whips his phone out and barks at someone on the otner end, his house was about a block away but our clothes were still damp and it would be bad to walk. A black Camero comes into view, the window rolls down to show a young male with purple hair.

"Get in" he says and Eli goes to the passenger side. I open the back door for Sacha and slide in next to her, pulling her to me. I bury my face into her wet hair, tears falling down silently. Minutes pass by and the car stops so I get out, Sacha close to me. She's a sobbing mess so I carry her bridal style, walking her into Eli's old house. Eli shows us a room so I set her down on the bed, rumaging for some warm clothes. I make her get changed, finding something new for myself. I crawl into the bed, opening my arms for her to join me. She sniffles and lays on my side, head buried in my neck. I pet her hair and sing soft melodies to her, hoping she'll calm down. Her breathing slows eventually, she's alseep and I let out a hurt sigh.

Why?

*bts p.o.v*

"I can't fucking believe you guys! How rude can you be hyung?! How dare you call them bad luck! They've been nothing but helpful and you three boot them out!" Hoseok bellows, throwing his hands up, everyone flinching at the angry sunshine.

"He's right, that was uncalled for. Especially when you were the one who so desperately wanted to be protected. I'd be dead if it weren't for Y/N! But all you can think about is you! We're a gang, a team. And those three were family! You don't throw away family hyung! You just don't!" Jungkook adds, same intensity as Hoseok.

"Watch your tone Jungkook! Besides, if you two didn't like Y/N and Sacha I doubt you'd be defending them" Yoongi retorts.

"Hoseok hyung is right...you're being selfish and unjust. Y/N makes me feel safe, they're kind and warm. Sacha is so small and innocent, and Eli is so funny. They're not bad luck, they're family like Jungkookie said. And you guys broke up family" Tae murmurs, staring at the three.

"When we get home, you will look up their locations from the tracking bracelets. No ifs, ands, or buts. And that's an order, not an order as your friend. An order as your leader who doesn't care if you're older because all three of you are acting like children! You're grown men, and you claim three hybrids who would sacrifice their lives for you bad luck." Namjoon demands, making Yoongi stiffen but nod. Jin sits back and shuts his mouth, Jimin sinking into his seat. Jungkook storms out of the car as soon as it stops and slams the house door open, marching to his room. Tae shuffles out at the back, not wanting to be in the tension. Hoseok is huffing and puffing, face set in a scowl.

Yoongi sits at the computer and pulls up trackers 8,9, and 10. The computer flashes once before the signals cut out one by one. Yoongi zooms in on the map, Eli's house comes into view.

"We're going over there first thing in the morning. And if you want to complain you can leave the gang" Namjoon says, standing tall with his arms crossed.

All according to plan

-Ro! Ahahahah, can't get away from this angst...i straight up made myself cry again >< and it was hard to determine who would be the 'bad' guys but I hope you all like it <3

#bts #bts gang au x hybrid reader #bts gang au #bts gang au x reader #kpop gang au #bts angst #come together #admin ro #vixx gang au #got7 gang au

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sambart93 · 6 years

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Fullmetal Alchemist Live Action Movie [Rant]

I finished FMA:B anime like LAST week so I am super sensitive and still on the FMA love boat train thing. And tbh I never had ANY intention of ever watching this movie, but after hearing my friend describe his experience with the movie (he's a NON-FMA-fan and knows absolultey nothing about it) and just not having a good time with it; I had to see it and see for myself just what was wrong with it. And boy-oh-boy, please leave if you were hoping I'd be pleasantly surprised.

It has the bear basics of the character background and the bear basics of the world etc. which is just enough that non-anime/manga fans can just about understand BUT so much is left out. It misses and skips so much of the characters, of the development, of the world. There's just enough missing that also, non-FMA-people will get completely lost and somewhat disengaged with the story too. They really don't establish the childhood-friendness with Winry, Al and Ed, it's super briefed over. The hints about Hommunculus and the reason why they're searching for the Philosopher's Stone is, again, very heavily glossed over compared to the anime. I understand it's only 133 minute film BUT you definitely could've cut some other parts (especially parts that aren't in the anime/manga) in order to flesh out the details and the important parts. Especially in terms of emotional impact.

In the movie version Tucker is protrayed pitiful rather than a bit-shit crazy evil man. So when his dark side comes out, it just looks like a sad, pitiful man and there's no real satisfaction from him being beaten by Ed.

Yamada's emotional performance just doesn't land. The scene about the chimera, you couldn't see much anger or the switch between being happy-to realising what's happened-to getting super fucking angry, and his voice isn't strong enough to portray both his anger and his pain. It just didn't have any emotional impact.

A BIG positive is the setting and the location and such. It's perfect and so nice!

I really hate how heavily CGI'd Al's armour and Ed's arm and leg are. I don't understand why they didn't just build very realistic looking armour, have black clothes underneath so a stuntman/body-actor could wear it as Al and Yamada could've just pwore the armour. I feel like they were actual props BUT you can tell they've put CGI OVER it and it just looked stupid. Japan is well-known for tokusatsu costumes and you could've easily gone 100% realistic with Al's armour and it would've looked GOOD.

They do change the story somewhat but not enough to not be faithful to the original material.

While I do love Atomu, since watching the anime (last week) and actually becoming a fan of FMA, I totally understand and I am now in agreement with my friend that they should've just had the original voice actor for Al in the movie rather than Atomu BUT I do understand in the END GAME why Atomu is needed.

Winry can eff off. I've never liked the actress who plays her and she's in this MORE than she is in the anime. I don't even like the character in the anime so the fact they extended her part somewhat in this just annoyed me.

I don't like Hawkeye's actress or look either. It's clearly a wig. Why couldn't the actress just grow and dye her own hair? It'd look better. But any, recast her please.

Casting I AM happy about: Hughes!!! They picked the perfect actor for him! Even without seeing him in costume, I could tell he was a good choice. BUT, and it's a big 'but', the entire casting in general is too old. They've casted everyone 10-20years older than the actual characters ages. And I totally understand WHY. You need these big names in order to get a big budget, in order to get a lot of funding - I KNOW why Yamada was casted; more for the money rather than for him actually suiting the role <<< lets all admit this okay. I get it. We all get how the movie industry works. Especially with this movie being filmed via Warner Brothers, it was definitely more about 'hire the big actors so we get more money to play with' rather than hiring better, more accurate, faithfully-aged actors. So for the most part I am not annoyed with who was casted because this is the business. It happens. Don't get me wrong, Yamada did alright and he does have the voice which is just nice to listen to. When he's explaining or speaking fast, Yamada sounds REALLY damn good. But I can just think of a few other actors who would've suited, looked and acted the role better (COUGH COUGH UEDA KEISUKE FOR STARTERS!). And like, I LOVE KANATA HONGO but NOT as Envy. No no no no no no no not a good choice. Appearance wise; yes he fits Envy; his looks bratty, his skinny and he's somewhat short but the way he plays Envy and his voice; just no. You'd have better look getting a young actress to play Envy. Yes, I did just say actress. Especially because Envy is supposed to be GENDERFLUID!

BUT in general, I do not like MOST of this casting. I can think of a billion other people who would've been better in the role of Ed (no offence Yamada), I can think of so many more people who would've been perfect for Mustang (he is my baby, they ruined him in the movie; wrong casting completely). BUT then my friend said 'but would they haven't wanted to do this movie?' to which I straight away said 'good point, they wouldn't have accepted the role' and in fact they probably weren't even offered the role because; as I keep saying BIG NAMES = MORE MORE.

Ooooohhhh they RUINED Hughes' death! They CHANGED who the hell killed him!! AGAIN how are they going to fix and work around this in the future movie(s)?!

OMG that is HILARIOUS!!! SO the scene right AFTER Hughes' death we get Atomu-ception! We have Atomu playing a soldier arresting Ed while he stands next to Al who he bloody voices AND the soldier himself have BLONDE hair and just omg... what the fuck?! WHY and HOW did you think that was a good idea Warner?! That's gunna fuck people up for the ending for those who DON'T know Atomu

OH! NOT ENOUGH SMALL JOKES! And to be honest, I don't even think Yamada is that short! I don't think we get enough shots with him standing next to or near other people in a wide shot and stuff for us to go 'OH HE SMOL!'.

ALSO; WHERE THE EFF IS SCAR?!?!!?! WHERE IS SCAR?!?!?!!? He's SO important in the story and you didn't bother to introduce him in the first movie?! His first few fights with Ed are AMAZING! WHY is he not here?! WHY is he not in the movie?!

OMMGGG my friend was right about how BAD CGI and stuff is for Gluttony's real mouth. And his WADDLING! OMG his WADDLING was so funny.

They focused WAY to much on making Mustang and Hawkeye a THING. In the anime, they stay VERY professional for the most part. We understand they have romantic feels for each other but in public 99% of the time (and even in private!) they stay completely professional and 'we have police of this country'-type stance.

WAIT WHAT??!?!?! MUSTANG BURNING ROSS IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?!?! WHAT THE FUCK?! HOW THEY GOING TO EXPLAIN THAT AWAY?!?! WAAAAHHHHH THE ACTUAL?! .... WAIT WHAT?! THEY RUINED THE ENTIRE ENVY PLOT IN THE FIRST MOVIE?!

And I got SO confused when Al started having a go at Ed for 'I'm not real am I' and I'm like 'bitch this part of the story doesn't happen for AGES!!! What the hell?!' Also Lab 5 was just trash in this movie. AND Al goes off only about an hour into the film; we BARELY know these characters. There was no emotional impact at all. Just nothing. We haven't spent enough time getting to know these characters for this scene to work and make people cry at this point.

WAIT WHAT?! TUCKER IS STILL ALIVE AND HAS KIDNAPPED AL AND WINRY?! WTH is this plot line?!?!?!

Okay, kudos to Yamada for his scream acting when the Transmutation circle and the way to create Philosopher Stones are revealed. That was REALLY good.

WAIT WHAT?!?!? They revealed the ENTIRE soul army already?!?!?!!? That's not until like the LAST ten episodes of the anime! WTF.... Ohhh and the CGI for them is NOT good....

I am SO confused.... Mustang took the philosopher's stone out of Lust but that's not how you kill her!! You have to actually DESTROY the stone. If it's not destroyed by FMA RULES she's supposed to be able to reconstruct herself! WTF?! Why are they ignore this very important logic and basic rule?!

Whhhhyyyyyy did Ed use the stone?!?!? WHAT THE ACTUAL?!?! NOOOOO Ed you wtf?!?! That's not even canon!!!! WAAAAAAH?!?!

I wonder who they hired for Al's body... cos that DEFO isn't Atomu! << Again, how is this going to work if voice Al already looked this different to body Al?!

To be honest, FMA is too loved and too long for it to be a series of movies. If FMA was to get Live-Actioned it should've, right from the start, been a stage series. That's the only way they would've fit everything in and done justice to the story, and been able to do projection mapping and be able to go great action scenes using stunts and stunt equipment, and also in general, better and younger actors for the roles.

#fullmetal alchemist #live action #fullmetal alchemist live action #fma #review #rant #movie review #movie rant #usually I love live action japanese makes but not this time

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misterclandestine · 6 years

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My Favorite Stuff from 2017

It’s been a tough one, but there was a lot of awesome stuff that made it easier. Here are some of my favorites in no particular order.

DAMN by Kendrick Lamar, Album - The World felt different once this was in it. Kenny’s 4th release proved he’s just as thoughtful, agile, and hungry as ever.

everyone’s a aliebn when ur a aliebn too by Johnny Sun, Book - You can go through this hybrid graphic novel/picture-book in one sitting, but there’s so much to chew on here that I recommend taking time with this story, which follows Jomny, a misspelling aliebn sent to earth to study human behavior. The brief, direct interactions simply, & hilariously reveal everything beautiful and tragic about what it is to be alive.

Abstract: The Art of Design, Series - This Netflix series drops you into the lives of 6 masterful creators moving through subcultures of artistry (i.e Footwear Design, Illustration, Stage Design). Each revealing their varying methods, ideas, and joys about creativity. The standout episode follows Christoph Niemann, an illustrator for the New Yorker, and his blue-collar approach to his work.

Game of Thrones: The Spoils of War, TV Series - Though this season was rushed, clumsy and arguably unrecognizable from the compelling and prestigious drama that has unprecedentedly impacted our culture, you won’t find a more gripping hour of television. You know a show is wilding out when you don’t know who the hell to even root for anymore (Get em, Drogo! Wait, not Bronn! Wait, not the incestuous child killer!)

Insecure: Season 2, TV Series - The show you didn’t know you needed. Issa Rae’s hilarious dramedy paints a picture of what it’s like to be young, ambitious, unapologetic, lonely, intelligent, sexy, successful, and losing.

Last Week Tonight with John Oliver: Season 4, TV Series - Oliver’s weekly recap simultaneously manages to be enlightening, funny, depressing, and hopeful. His takedown of Alex Jones was one of the most satisfying things I consumed all year.

Do Not Disturb by Drake, Song - the final track of More Life, a surprise ‘mixtape’, samples ‘Time’ by Snoh Alegra, and is one of his most personal songs to date. Without a chorus, he raps for 3 minutes about not needing romance, fear of irrelevancy, and the quickening passage of time. Gracefully shifting between insecurity and arrogance with dizzying fervor, Aubrey continues to capture the emotional woes of an entire generation.

Get Out, Film - Jordan Peele’s directorial film debut is the rare instant classic, and it’s not because it has one of the most crowd-pleasing endings of all time. The satirical, social commentary cloaked in the guise of a horror comedy, refuses definition, and peels back layers of race, and class previously untouched in cinema.

Melodrama by Lorde, Album - With a kajillion pounds of pressure on her shoulders to follow up one of the best pop debuts of all time, Ella delivers. She croons on top of Jack Antonoff’s unruly production about heartbreak, fame, and the feeble impact of acclaim. As one Twitterer put it “I gain an extra chromosome when the beat drops in ‘Sober II’.

mother!, Film - I can’t say I enjoyed this movie because it was the second most excruciating sit I had at the theater all year (kudos to Justice League), but it left me SHOOK. It’s clearly allegorical, but what makes it masterful is that the way you take this movie in is colored almost entirely by your own personal experiences.

Master of None: Season 2, TV Series - A perfect double-feature to Insecure (give me a shared universe where Dev and Issa are a power couple). Ansari’s relentlessly entertaining series accomplishes what every second season strives for. It tops the first, while redefining and expanding itself. The show is tirelessly committed to the experiences of ‘others’ (a deaf person, a lesbian, a non-believing muslim, service workers in NYC etc.) It’ll leave you crying, laughing, and hungry.

Split, Film - When we’re lucky, films hit ya with “SURPRISE, muthafucka” moments that Jesus himself would not see coming. Shyamalan’s second hit in a row (after a run of all time duds) ends with one 17 years in the making. The iconic villain terrifyingly played with razor-sharp swiftness by the world-class James McAvoy is the icing on the cake.

Isaiah Thomas, Athlete - If not for Russell Westbrook’s record breaking response to Kevin Durant’s betrayal, the “King in the Fourth” takes home the MVP. Watching him play through tears the day after his sister died in a car accident will stay with me forever. His 53 point performance on her birthday a few weeks later starkly reminded me of the unifying, powerful spirit of sport.

Moonlight’s Best Picture Win - I’ll begin by saying that I really liked La La Land. A month after we swore in Don, we got it wrong again… psych! I’ll never forget the roller coaster of emotion that came over me in this moment. Barry Jenkin’s tale told through 3 untraditional acts (titled ‘Little’, ‘Chiron’ & ‘Black’) was gorgeously shot, flawlessly acted, and supremely helmed. It arrived at a time we needed it most and Mahershala Ali FINALLY got his shine.

Coco, Film - We got one shot this year, and we NAILED it. This breathtaking portrait of Mexican culture demands to be seen on the big screen and illuminates the importance of dreams, family, and tradition. No manches!

‘No Man’s Land’ scene in Wonder Woman - There were two times in the theater this year that I felt that sinking drop of a roller coaster in my belly, this was one of them. Gal Gadot and Patty Jenkins must be emboldened and protected at all cost.

Woody Harrelson, Actor - The rare movie-star actor quietly had a phenomenal year, further etching the grooves of his name into Hollywood lore. His turns in The Glass Castle, The War for the Planet of the Apes, and Three Billboards in Ebbing Missouri prove he’s STILL at the top of his game. I’m shocked that his heartbreaking portrayal of a drifting, alcoholic yet whimsical and passionate father in The Glass Castle hasn’t gotten more attention.

S - Town, Podcast - The colder you go into this one, the better. All I’ll say is that you’ll step away from this one feeling some type of way about people, the feeble sustainability of the planet, and clocks.

The World Series, Sports - The. Best. Ever. After being devastated by Hurricane Harvey, the Astros grant Houstonians some restoration via their first World Series Championship in a thrilling 7-game series that was literally witnessed by the World.

The Keepers, Documentary Series- This 7 episode series documenting the varying controversies surrounding the Catholic Church left me epiphanized about what it means to remove the seemingly impenetrable powers of institutions. Targeting one single individual, or a group of individuals or an organization won’t get it done. We must take down the viral ideas themselves.

Bladerunner 2049, Film - Aside from being wondrously constructed technically (you won’t see better production design or cinematography - give Deakins his Oscar now dammit), this story about a robot serves up a surprising amount of soul. Denis Villeneuve, solidifying his auteur status, delivers a nostalgic yet entirely unique follow up to the beloved sci fi classic.

‘Throne Room’ scene in The Last Jedi - This was the other time I felt like I was falling in the theater. Despite considerable problems, Rian Johnson showed us stuff we’ve never seen before in the SW universe. It’s the showdown you dream about as a kid.

The Big Sick, film - Kumail Nanjiani’s autobiographical story of how he met his lover is sorta the woke edition of Meet The Parents. Like Dev on MON, Kumail struggles to blaze trails while upholding loyalty to family and falls in love for a white girl along the way. Ray Romano and Holly Hunter turn in a pair of the year’s best performances.

Big Little Lies, Mini Series - I resisted the marketing for this one initially: dissatisfied, rich folk in Monterey. But the re-teaming of Jean-Marc Vallée (Wild, Dallas Buyers Club, Demolition) & Reese Witherspoon seemed promising. Momentum grew with each weekly installment (I overheard people theorizing whodoneit in restaurants), which is refreshing in the Netflix age. The leads are all stellar (believe the hype about Kidman) and Zoe Kravitz proves she should be working more.

Creature Comfort by Arcade Fire, Song - A painful examination of youth that’s equally heartbreaking and melodic.

Homecoming Season 2 - The fictional podcast about the remnants of a government coverup of a failed rehabilitation program for distressed veterans makes some questionable narrative choices in it’s second season and Oscar Isaac is absent throughout most of it (likely due to a loaded schedule). He does “appear” at the end of the second episode ‘CIPHER’, in a brilliant usage of audio storytelling, and it left me in puddles.

Mindhunter, TV Series - We all know Fincher is a technical maestro, but I don’t think he gets enough credit for being a complete storyteller, which he clearly is. The 13-episode made-to-binge Netflix series based off the book by the same name follows Holden Ford, an idealistic FBI profiler, and Bill Tench, played by Holt McCallany subverting every macho character role he’s ever taken on as a highly intelligent, hardened fed, as they attempt to break ground on our understandings of serial murderers. All of Fincher’s trademarks are there with sprinkled elements of Seven, & Zodiac.

Tyler the Creator’s Tiny Desk Concert, Podcast - I enjoyed ‘Flower Boy’, but didn’t find myself returning to it. That all changed after this. In a year of fantastic TDCs (i.e: Thundercat, Chance the Rapper) Tyler’s stands out. With help from a pair of stellar background singers, his array of talents are on full display, namely: composing and orchestrating melody and harmony.

Colin Kaepernick, Athlete - it’s not about the flag or the military don’t @ me.

20th Century Women, Film - Released wide in January, it remains one of the year’s best. Set gorgeously in 1970′s Santa Barbara, Mike Mills’ deeply personal tribute to motherhood, women, & outcasts overflows with heart.

Kamala Harris, (D) CA Senator - She is so bad, can we get started on the 2020 bumper stickers now?

What Now by Sylvan Esso, Album - ‘Hey Mami’ from their 2014 debut popped up on my Pandora one day and I was IN. Amelia Meath’s angelic vocals layered over Nick Sanborn’s unpredictable production is sublime. The “Echo Mountain Sessions” include dope af live recordings of the album’s standout tracks.

Logan, Film - The Wolverine movie we deserve also features a star-making performance from Dafne Keen and an unrecognizable Professor X. With a decade between the last time he inhabited his iconic portrayal of Charles Xavier, Sir Patrick Stewart strides (wheels?) back into the role with award worthy tact.

Fargo Season 3, TV Series - The best season yet and that’s really saying something. David Thewlis is haunting as Varga, the creepiest, most frightening villain in the series’ history and a collection of top-tier thespians rounds out the rest of the cast. There’s also a moment in one of the later episodes similar to the ending of ‘Split’ that’s a real delight.

Mr. Robot Season 3, TV Series - Showrunner Sam Esmail moves us through this complex dystopia, which has begun to bear resemblance to our reality lately, with complete CTRL. We see Mr. Robot AND Bobby Canavale like never before. That oner episode is pretty cool too, but it’s not even the season’s best.

Other Notables: Patton Oswalt: Annihilation, Girls Trip, The Leftovers Season 3, Glow, Twin Peaks: The Return, Ingrid Goes West, BEAUTIFUL THUGGER GIRLS by Young Thug, Add Violence by NIN, Good Time, Stranger Things: Season 2, Legion, Dunkirk, Crashing, NO ONE EVER REALLY DIES by N.E.R.D, 4:44 by Jay-Z, Dirty John, Wind River, Dear White People

FYI: I still haven’t seen/listened to a lot of stuff, namely all the big award contending films.

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btspremiumtrash · 4 years

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Cirque de Bangtan (j.jk x p.jm) part 2

⇓ Ship: Jeongguk x Jimin

⇓ Genre: Series, Non-idol! AU, Enemies to Lovers, Supernatural AU, Circus AU, Eventual Smut

⇓ Summary: Jeongguk recently moved from Busan to big city Seoul. His parents kicked him out. Something about “You’re 22 and still living with your parents. Get the hell out and get a damn job!”

He couldn’t hear them as he was two steps ahead of them by packing up his bags and slamming the door in their faces. Every interview he got, he never heard back from them. Most of his days were spent just trying to find somewhere to rest his head and drown his sorrows. Life is hard when things aren’t spoon-fed to you as Jeongguk comes to realize.

Now he’s all by his lonesome. Luckily for him, he finds a flyer. A potential job. A circus job yes, but he was desperate for any sort of payment. Little did he know, life as he knew it was about to get a whole lot more interesting... Werewolves. Vampires. Clowns. Not even God could prepare Jeongguk for the complete turnaround on his once normal lifestyle.

⇓ Word ct.: 3.9k

⇓ Warnings: cussing, pg-13

⇓ Chapter 1

Masterlist

Jeongguk was woken up by his alarm he set for himself at an ungodly—6:00 pm—hour. He wanted to get a head start for the new job that he had to be there for at 8:00 pm for his first opening performance.

His new job.

Those three words were still new to him. He couldn’t believe that in a few hours, he would be working his first shift. Doing something he was already doing, granted. But baby steps. Now he was getting paid real money. Or so he hoped.

With newfound motivation in his steps, he cleaned himself up, parted his hair to the side, put on some black tight-fitting jeans along with a black graphic T-shirt, and was on his way out the door. He greeted the very nice and cute receptionist, Lalisa, on his way out. Her auburn bangs covered her luscious eyebrows while the rest of her hair was in a professional bun.

Lisa, as he likes to call her, was Jeongguk’s first friend outside of the ones his father forced him to keep in touch with. Big names like Kim Jennie and Mark Lee whose families worked together with the Jeons, hence why they wanted their kids to stay in touch if something were to ever happen to their successful businesses. It was always business first and family second with big names like theirs.

But Lisa was different. She was a foreigner. Her family started this hotel business when they got to Korea and prided themselves on bringing their Thai traditions of hospitality to Seoul and many other parts of South Korea. She grew up in the hospitality business and therefore knew how to comfort a lost soul like Jeongguk’s. She was the first person he ever spoke to that didn’t know about him, his name, his family, anything like that, and therefore he began to enlighten her about himself. It didn’t hurt his pride because, at that point in his life, he didn’t have any pride left.

“You look like you’ve got somewhere to be, huh?” She grinned.

Jeongguk stopped and walked up to her desk, giving her the same closed smile she cast his way. “Yeah. I finally got a job! Can you believe it?”

Shaking her head, she shrugged. “Can’t say that I do, Mr. Jeon, but if you say so...” She dragged until an idea came to mind. “Where do you work? Maybe I can end my shift early and drive you there if you want.”

Jeongguk froze. He didn’t want Lisa to find out he worked at a circus. His pride was finally kicking off and having Lisa drive him to his job would only knock it right back down again. He couldn’t afford that. Maybe some other time when he sees just how well they pay him. But he had to make up some sort of excuse that she would buy.

He shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think you have to drive me there. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk from here. I think I can manage. Thank you though.”

“Of course! Just be back here at a reasonable time tonight. Clients were a little upset to hear you and whatever company you brought over outside their door at 1 am. I don’t feel like vouching for you again.”

Company? Jeongguk remembered that Jimin walked him home the other night, and not out of the kindness of his heart. He wondered if Jimin even had a heart with the way he argued to Jimin about having a hotel being his permanent residence instead of an actual apartment. He kept rambling on about his poor life decisions as if he knew the shit he went through. He didn’t know a damn thing. He slammed the door on his face when he heard enough. Note to self: Don’t force Park Jimin to take you home.

“This is where you live?”

They just arrived at Jeongguk’s hotel room. Odd, Jeongguk thought since he quite vividly remembers Jimin saying that once they get to his block, he’s going home. Now he was standing right outside his place. Great. Maybe he won’t try and murder him in his sleep if he fucks up a performance, Jeongguk hoped. Despite the mental image of Jimin using a knife to slit his throat and laughing manically, Jeongguk still kept a level head. Getting the keycard out of his pocket, Jeongguk nonchalantly said, “It is. Problem?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jimin scoffed. “Why the fuck do you not live in an apartment like every other sane person?”

Jeongguk turned his attention toward the older man. He looked him up and down to see if he was seriously judging his lifestyle right now and sure enough, based on how deadly serious he looked, he wasn’t joking. “Who the fuck are you to judge?”

“Aren’t you a Jeon? You couldn’t have gone for a penthouse—”

Oh no. He played the family name card. Wrong move. Jeongguk pushed Jimin to the nearby wall and pinned him there. “Listen here, asshole. Yes, I’m a fucking Jeon. I’m Jeon Jeongguk. And I bought this hotel room because I didn’t feel like putting an even bigger dent in my pocket than I already have. But don’t think that because of my last name that I’m loaded. I wouldn’t need this stupid fucking job anyway—”

Jimin heard just about enough. Before he could insult his job, Jimin pushed Jeongguk back to his door, making a loud thud sound. Probably the noise the neighbors were complaining about to Lisa. Growling, Jimin locked eyes with the younger man—who was, unfortunately, taller than him and therefore had to look up to see him but that didn’t stop the sheer dominance he radiated off his body—and said, “Choose your next words very carefully, little one. I see now why your parents set you free on your own, brat. Now before I do something I may regret, I’m going to say this once and only once: Insult the circus or anyone working in Cirque de Bangtan, I will make your life even worse than it already is. You may have money, but I have claws. And trust me, they work a hell of a lot better than money.”

Jimin lets go of Jeongguk, who could hardly breathe even after being let go of. He’s gotten death threats on Overwatch before. But nothing like this. And no one like him. He was truly terrified. He dared ask what he meant by claws. Real claws? No way, werewolves don’t exist. But could they? He’s starting to think that they could.

Regardless, Jeongguk mustered up whatever courage he had left to let himself in his hotel room, slamming the door shut in fear that Jimin would try something. But to his surprise, Jimin didn’t kick down his door and slit his throat. Instead, he sighed and said, “Don’t be late tomorrow night. You’ve got the 8-10 shift.”

Jeongguk didn’t reply, too afraid that his voice might reflect how scared he was. He heard Jimin’s footsteps echoing down the hallway back to the elevator. Finally, he was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief.

There’s no way he signed up for this kind of job, right? It's not even Day 1 and he’s already gotten a death threat from his coworker. He felt a lump grow in his throat as he struggled to swallow it down. How the hell was he supposed to work with these people? He’s nothing like them.

The fight that he and Jimin had made Jeongguk go to bed a little earlier than he would’ve liked to. He needed his wet dreams about Lee Jieun. Only they would make up for the shitty night he had. And lucky they did. Otherwise, he would’ve never had the determination to go back to that circus job.

After reliving that horrible night in his head, he returned to planet Earth to give Lisa reassurance that he would never come home with Park Jimin ever again. “Yes ma’am.” He waved her goodbye as he left the hotel.

“Good.”

“Nice work, Jimin. You need some water?” Jimin’s best friend, Kim Taehyung, the clairvoyant vampire, asked him as Jimin came back from his performance of jumping through rings of fire in his wolf form. He nodded, to which Taehyung handed him a cold one from underneath his table.

The thrill of the crowd could be heard from possibly miles away and that wasn’t just because of Taehyung’s supernatural ability to hear even the slightest sound was exaggerating it. Jimin’s performance was arguably the one that brought in the most money for Cirque de Bangtan. No one questioned the existence of a werewolf. They’ve read enough Twilight to accept that they do exist. The only person who doesn’t know because he—along with his also sheltered friends—was shielded from these kinds of creatures is Jeongguk.

Taehyung’s shift already ended about thirty minutes ago when he predicted the futures of possibly ten people. That’s ten more people than the previous night, so there’s progress there. Were they right? Only the future (and Taehyung) knows for sure. Sometimes he told them what they wanted to hear. Other times he would tell the truth only if it was beneficial to them. And still, he found that he was paid more whenever he lied. Humans are so weird. Glad he was never one of them.

Jimin looked at his phone. Seven o’clock. Newbie’s shift would be starting soon. Only one problem: he didn’t smell Jeongguk anywhere. Meaning that either he got cold feet and quit his job before he could even arrive. Or he got mobbed by rogue wolves. He prayed for the former since Namjoon would kill him otherwise for not making sure he was safe. It was Namjoon’s voice at the back of his head that stopped Jimin from busting Jeongguk’s door open and teaching that brat some respect last night. And it’s currently that same man’s voice telling him to go look for him. I fucking hate you, Kim Namjoon. Get out of my goddamn head already.

“Worried about a certain someone?” Taehyung prodded. Of course, he knew the answer to this due to his clairvoyance. But it never hurt to ask.

He growled in irritation, appalled that Taehyung would even suggest that he was worried about that stubborn brat. “No. I’m worried about myself being ripped to shreds by a certain someone because I didn’t do my job.”

Crossing his arms, Taehyung felt like being a bit more a bother to his friend than usual. So, he kept poking at the wolf. “Really? Seems to me like you are.”

“Now isn’t the time for jokes, Tae. You do know that—”

“Ko Ko Bop is in town? Or to be more specific will be in town? They aren’t here now, but they will be in due time. I’m thinking in about two weeks. Care to bet with me?”

It’s always a game with someone like Taehyung. He knows the outcomes, so why even bother with being serious. He told Seokjin and Namjoon yesterday about the predictions, but he left out the future tense of will be, which prompted Namjoon to recruit Jeongguk quicker than he would’ve liked. Namjoon would’ve liked for Jeongguk to find out about Cirque de Bangtan the natural way of just stumbling upon it or a friend bringing him here and him liking it so much that he would end up working for them. Not end up hearing about it via a flyer. But no matter because Jeongguk had accepted. Now it was a matter of time until they would become the number one circus in the whole world as they so rightfully deserve.

Jimin huffed at the mischievous vampire, giving into his gambling. He doesn’t know why he indulges in this behavior. But he does know that no other member could handle it. Hence why he and Taehyung make a great duo. “I’d say a week.”

“Good. And what does the winner get?”

“A get-out-of-jail-free card.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in boredom. “Come on, man. You can’t be serious.”

Jimin crossed his arms, a smile playing across his face. “Oh, but I am. You never know when you need someone to bail you out. What if you accidentally kill someone from drinking too much from them? Then what? Who else is gonna put up with you? Because let me tell you, that’s a full-time job, mister.”

Taehyung gasped in shock and put a hand to his heart to display—dramatically—how hurt he was that Jimin would say that. “How dare you! I have not overdrunk in years! I know how to control myself, unlike some people...”

Jimin scoffed. “And what are you implying?”

“Oh, don’t think I forgot about how hungry you were that you got rid of the last recruit before he made it to the door,” Taehyung sassed. “Let’s hope this recruit will be able to perform before you sink your teeth into him, hmm?”

And at the mention of the recruit, Jimin finally caught his scent. It was hard to miss. Did he put on cologne? His scent was usually softer than what he was smelled of. Whatever. He was here now, meaning he hadn’t gotten mauled by wolves and Jimin can live another night.

Noticing that Jimin didn’t hit him with another snarky remark, he knew that he had other things on his mind, making the vampire smirk. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, prompting him to leave his tent. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Before Jimin could respond to him, he was pushed out of Taehyung’s tent and right into Jeongguk’s built chest. Fuck, was he that much taller than him? That’s a thought he had put to the side for now. While Jeongguk was apologizing profusely, Jimin couldn’t care less. Right now, he had to show Jeongguk to the performance tent where he would be putting on his first show.

“Took you long enough, brat. Let’s get you ready. Follow me.”

Jeongguk was led to a tent near the bigger one in the center by Jimin. It took him a few more minutes than expected to get to the circus. To be fair, if he didn’t see the big crowd that was leaving the circus, he would’ve lost his way there and miss his first performance and probably lose his job. He could’ve used his phone. If it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t charge it while he was sleeping last night. Too freaked out by Jimin, he needed an ample amount of YouTube and Pornhub to get his mind off him and drift peacefully to sleep. But now here he was, right next to where his nightmares began.

Jimin pushed Jeongguk inside the tent. “You have ten minutes to put on something in there. Don’t worry; we washed everything before you came today. When you’re done, come on out.”

“Yessir,” Jeongguk exclaimed to Jimin. He looked around the tent and the many drawers and closets within. His eyes fell to the darker wooden closet. He opened it and found the outfit of the night. A black glittering tuxedo with dark purple stripes and a white dress shirt with black buttons. Oh yeah, this was an outfit for the one and only Jeon Jeongguk to rock. He even found shoes that fit him surprisingly well since he never told them his shoe size. Maybe they had another member that coincidentally had the same shoe size as him. That would have to be his best bet for now because Jimin was an impatient man.

His back turned to the wall of the tent while humming to himself, he didn’t hear Jimin opening the flap to give Jeongguk a five-minute warning. Jimin caught the sight of Jeongguk’s bare toned golden back. He works out? Because goddamn does it show. It was only a glimpse but Jimin so desperately wishes he had the power to reverse time to see it again and again. Or perhaps the power to stop time altogether and snap a picture for his pleasure.

Wait a sec.

His pleasure?

No way.

There’s no way he’s falling for this brat. He would kill himself twice if that was the case. He ducked out before Jeongguk turned back around. Maybe his wolf is acting up because his heat is coming soon. He hated it so much because he would have to take the whole week off so that he wouldn’t kill the customers. He didn’t like leaving the circus since his performance draws in the most attention and therefore the most money. But alas, he can’t control his wolf during times like those, so he was helpless to change that fact. It’s moments like these that make him regret becoming this hairy creature.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk put on the finishing piece of a sparkling purple bow tie and matching top hat. He looked like a circus freak. Like one of those ringleaders, he thought. Oh well, couldn’t get any more embarrassing from here on out.

He went outside to greet Jimin, unaware of the peeping Tom and what he witnessed in the dressing tent. Jimin continued as if he didn’t see what he saw and felt whatever it was he did. Leading the boy to the back entrance of the main tent. The audience was chatting rather loudly, waiting for their next form of entertainment to grace their presence. In that domineering voice that made Jeongguk shrink into his shoes, he leaned forward to Jeongguk’s ear. “Don’t mess this up, little one.”

Somehow, Jeongguk was able to respond to Jimin despite the tone of voice Jimin spoke to him with that would usually render him speechless. In fact, with that same cockiness that he was born and raised with. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Jeongguk stepped into the tent, silencing the crowd. Immediately, the speakers blared with a voice that resembled that of that Kim Seokjin fellow he remembered meeting yesterday. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our newest member of Cirque de Bangtan, The Top Hat Singer!”

The Top Hat Singer? Why that name of all names for him? Whatever. He’ll have to change his stage name eventually. For now, he needed to provide to the audience the “Singer” part of his newfound name. And boy, did he intend to.

The lights went out for a split second, only to return with all lights on Jeongguk. He gulped, realizing that singing in acapella would have to do for his first performance. He could’ve gotten away with just singing “FOOLS” again. But he wanted to prove that he was versatile enough to sing other songs. So, he went with “2U”. Based on how Seokjin was the announcer, he would surely be listening to his song. Maybe that could change his opinion on having a singer as a performer in a circus. If he was able to woo the crowd that was.

But judging by how they were swaying along with his voice, he had a feeling that he was doing a better job than both he and Seokjin thought he would. It was Jimin however, who knew that the brat had a pair of good lungs on him and never doubted him for a second, hence why he lingered to listen to his voice for a few more minutes before he left. After all, he’s been watching him since the beginning. Although he still wishes that it was him up there singing a duet with the boy, he pushes those feelings aside, choosing instead to go back to his tent. His work for the day was done. Including his overtime with Jeongguk.

When Jeongguk’s performance ended, the crowd was in an uproar, demanding an encore, despite Jeongguk singing nonstop song after song. He felted empowered. Like he could get used to this attention. He took his bow and picked up the flowers and money the audience threw his way. The speakers went off again with Kim Namjoon as the speaker this time. “As much as The Top Hat Singer would love to sing for you all for the rest of the night, the circus is closing soon. He will be back tomorrow and on behalf of Cirque de Bangtan, we hope you also return. Have a wonderful night, ladies and gentlemen.”

It was almost sad to hear the audience sighs of disappointment, but the sound of them cheering for Jeongguk to continue drowned out all those negative feelings. This is the attention he needed. Not because of his family’s wealth or their talents. But because of his talents. Now that he had experienced it, there was no way he was letting this job go.

“He’s hooked,” Seokjin pointed out to Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at that light in Jeongguk’s eyes. He truly enjoyed his first performance. He inclined his head. “So, should we tell him?”

Seokjin shrugged. “You’re the leader, Namjoon. It’s your call.”

“Hmm...” Namjoon hummed to himself, trying to debate whether or not to drop the bomb on Jeongguk. Then he makes up his mind. “We tell him tomorrow night.”

Seokjin exhaled like he was exhausted already. “Oh boy. I’ll need a bottle of soju. I can tell that he won’t take it well. With him being a Jeon and all.”

They both laughed at each other, but quickly silencing themselves and leaving the tent when Jeongguk turned around to try and figure out where that laughter came from. He couldn’t find them, so he picked up his money and flowers and headed off to the dressing tent to change back his clothes.

In the dressing tent, he was met by the card dealer of the group, Jeong Hoseok. Wearing a red shimmering suit with a black dress shirt and matching red shoes. He even had on shades despite it being pitch black out here. He looked Jeongguk up and down and cocked his head to the side. “Are you new here or something because I’ve never seen a face like yourself.”

Jeongguk nodded. “Just did my first singing performance not too long ago.”

“Ah, so that was your performance,” Hoseok said, taking off his shades. “Thought it was Jimin doing overtime. Only he could get the crowd that riled up. Glad to know that he has an equal. Maybe even his superior.” He winked at that last part which made Jeongguk’s cheeks flush a shade of red he never thought he could until now.

Hoseok held a hand out for Jeongguk to shake. “Name’s Jeong Hoseok. I’m the card dealer and the opening performer for the circus.”

Jeongguk shook his head, introducing himself as well. “Jeon Jeongguk... You might know my family based on my surname but I’m nothing like—”

“Who?”

Jeongguk’s train of thought stopped. He thought he would have to deal with another Jimin incident where he already knew about his family and used that as fuel to get Jeongguk fired up. Luckily, this was more of a Lisa situation where he knew nothing about the Jeons. He would take the latter over the former any day. So, instead of getting into his whole family history, he simply said, “Nevermind.”

The tent was silent. Awkwardly silent. Jeongguk wanted to change his clothes in peace. It’s bad enough he barely knew these people. But it’s even worse for them to see parts of him that he rather stay hidden from their prying eyes. As if sensing Jeongguk’s awkwardness, Hoseok put his shades on the back of his head. “Alright, I’m gonna head out. Stay safe out there, kid. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you too,” Jeongguk said as Hoseok walked out. Finally, Jeongguk could undress without any unwanted attention on him.

He dressed in his attire from earlier in the night when he first arrived and headed back to his hotel room. What a night tonight was.

#btswriterscollective #bts jeon jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #BTS jungkook #non idol au #PG-13 #bts jeongguk #bts smut #jimin x jungkook #supernatural au

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mynameisbriggsycakes · 6 years

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Bipolar* Baking

Baking is difficult.

You’ve probably heard from many chefs, a lot of them at the top of the class, say that they can cook an amazing four-course meal, but would do anything but make a dessert. That’s because baking requires a lot more precision, attention, and skill. There is a knowledge of chemistry that is needed to make that perfect cake or that loaf of bread. I know this, because I spent the better part of three years running an online bakery to help make ends meet in New York. Barely.

And then I moved to California.

When I announced I was moving here, a lot of people, knowing my second occupation, told me that I would make bank simply because of the alleged proclivity of a decent part of the population to desire edibles. I, for one, have nothing against marijuana, only that I refuse to smoke it myself as it either does nothing but give me ashy breath or make me extremely anxious and paranoid. You try explaining to your friends that you were two hours late because you were in the middle of Grand Central Station absolutely convinced that the train would derail and crash through the station like that scene in Die Hard: With a Vengeance and the only way you were going to survive is if you stared REALLY hard at the 7 train sign for several minutes.

That’s what I thought.

Anyway, I didn’t have much time for baking when I moved here anyway. The first priority was for me to get employed and fast; I swore to myself that I would not make the same stupid mistakes I would make in New York and would actually make the effort to make myself better (???) and to finally get a true diagnosis for whatever is up with my fucked-up head (?????). I was about to turn 30 and I wasn’t going to tolerate wasting my life away anymore, as my biggest weakness is guilt borne from regret.

Of course it’s never that easy for a thirtysomething queer Afro-Latina woman with a big mouth.

So after the racism, the sexual harassment, the lack of training, and the general sense of self-doubt and loneliness that was not dissimilar to what I dealt with for most of my life when it came to employment, I was finally able to get a stable job. It’s a good one and it’s moving up, but I also want to do other things. Like write, bake, sing, and perform. Stuff that was dismissed by everyone I knew, especially my family, who constantly told me that getting a good job and having money has top priority, as anyone who is anyone knows that having a ton of money is the only road to perpetual happiness and satisfaction with your own life.

Unfortunately, I was not meant to be a rich girl, and due to the inability to follow my dreams due to the expectations of those around me, I lowered my standards and resigned myself to being in one abusive relationship where I was willing to be a depressed housewife (suicide attempt #1), being in another abusive relationship where I was the breadwinner to someone with an ego the size of Texas (suicide attempt #2), and being in a THIRD one which wasn’t even a fucking relationship, but rather the deterioration of a friendship borne out of desperation, cosmic interference and ultimately a gross violation of trust (half-hearted suicide attempt #3; at that point, I was too worn out to even reach for the knife this time).

It was all a direct result of me not being myself. Plain and simple. Even at a young age I had a zeal for life that was dismissed. I knew what I wanted and would do anything to get it. That meant “being spoiled.” I had strong opinions and was always willing and able to call out other’s bullshit. That meant “being loud and obnoxious.” I was told that I couldn’t dress like certain characters because of my skin tone and that because I don’t have a “ghetto voice,” that I’m not really a black woman. That means “go fuck yourself, I need some new friends.”

So all of this, meaning over 30+ years of torment, some of it self-inflicted, finally broke the dam and led me to this fateful Friday night, where once again, I took the offer of baking some sweet Christmas treats for an old acquaintance who I worked with at a non-profit. I hadn’t professionally baked for over a year at that point (see above), so at that point, all I could come up with were shortbread cookies and snowflake cookies, as I had made those before with fantastic results. I mean, look at this shit:

That’s me. That’s all me. I baked and decorated these for a baby shower a long time ago, or what seems to be a long time ago. All I remember was going to a spot off Atlantic Avenue late at night and hand delivered a bunch of these bad boys and this incredibly talented photographer was so proud to send me these photos. So I was more than happy to make the same ones for my current customer not only to please her but to see if I’ve still got it--oh crap I lost my damn snowflake cutter in the move and I have to bake these motherfuckers tonight.

Okay, no problem. Baking is difficult. But just like on those cooking shows, you can improvise. You can make do with what you have and sometimes even create a better product. So I came up with the idea to make snowflake tokens, just simple round sugar cookies with snowflake decorations on them. Fine. While I come up with some sort of design, let’s make the reindeer shortbread cookies, I said, muttering to myself as I always do because mental illness is just fucking awful sometimes.

The shortbread dough I made that night was awesome. I decided to have the leftover shortbread dough for dinner. A common baker’s diet. Leftovers.

I bake those suckers off and then make the melted chocolate I would need to dip them in. So I proceed to double-boil like a boss and make the creamiest, glossiest ganache this world has ever seen.

I’m just kidding. I overheated it and it looked like aerated poop.

For those unaware, in order to make melted chocolate, it takes time and patience, two things that at that moment I wasn’t particularly thinking about because anxiety doesn’t allow you such a luxury. You need to have the chocolate over a bowl that’s set over a SIMMERING pot of water or you will cook it too quickly. So of course I boiled the soul out of that thing and literally got shit. Thankfully, my past self was well-prepared knowing of my eventual fuck-up and had a spare bag of chocolate waiting for me in the fridge. Cool. Screw the double boiler, I got Mr. Microwave ready to do the work.

Chocolate is ready, shortbread cookies are baked and cooled. It’s time to d-d-d-d-d-ip! (yells this to the Yu-Gi-Oh! theme).

I lay the cookies out, get the chocolate placed. Now, I baked 14 cookies. Usually you want to bake extra in case you make mistakes. It’s common. So I knew that either I could put too little chocolate on it or drop it and it would be fine, I would still have enough for the order are you kidding me why the fuck did you just snap in half you stupid cookie antelope?

And again.

I broke three darn cookies because I baked the shortbread cookies so perfectly with that melt in your mouth texture that it dared to follow the laws of physics and snapped when I held it in the wrong way while dipping. You can skip over this part, as it basically boils down to me muttering and snapping to myself of how worthless and stupid I am for about two minutes until I retreat to my room to calm down.

::fast forward::

Okay, shortbread cookies are done. I baked off a couple more to compensate and they are ready to set in the refrigerator. I now only hate myself half as much as I move on to the snowflake tokens. And I employ the Squint Rule to make sure they are up to my standards before I decorate them.

The Squint Rule is simple. If I have to squint at something so it looks more desirable, it’s not desirable and will not be sent out. I made the snowflake tokens and sprayed them with so much silver coloring that it reminded me of the Statue of Liberty street performers in New York if they were given the power to create and distribute currency. I squinted and did not like what I saw. But this is the part where it got all zen-like.

I said, “Let me decorate them and see what happens. If I don’t like them, then I’ll simply start over. Whatever it takes.”

This is important. I don’t think people understand how extremely important it was for me to have made that statement. This was in the middle of a mental breakdown. I had the clarity to say within all of the noise to let it go and let God decide. I let someone else take control. At that moment, I stopped allowing myself to drown in that all-too familiar misery that wrapped around me like a warm blanket every day and decided to run out in the cold naked.

Baking is hard. Baking with mental illness is difficult. Dealing with all the things I have had to deal with so far up until now has almost rendered me inert. But until the last cell in my body ceases to function, I’m going to fight this with every fiber of my being and know that someone, somewhere, is looking out for me when I feel just as alone as I did then and now. And maybe something good will happen each time I do.

I don’t know. What do you think?

#tw: sucide mention #bipolär #anxiety #depression #cooking #baking #bipolar baking

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itsniquol · 5 years

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Casting Ursula

On the subject of Disney live-action films, The Little Mermaid is getting a lot of attention and bringing a lot of questions to the forefront.

When will it be released?

Who’s going to direct?

How are they going to address feminist critiques?

How could the princess sign her name on a contract but not write the prince a note?

And the big question who’s going to be casted?

Obviously people are excited about who would play the titled princess --Ariel--, but right now our favorite red haired princess, you heard me Merida, is taking a back seat to Ursula.

Recently Melissa McCarthy was announced to be a prized cannindate to play the witch of the sea and she’s receiving a lot of support, why wouldn’t she? Melissa has charisma and the perfect body type to match Ursula’s and brings in some much needed body type representation. Not everyone is a size zero to five and we need to see more full figured women on screen showing how fun, fabulous and talented they are.

But do you know who else is a charismatic and talented with a fuller sized body? Lizzo.

If this year’s BET Awards performance proved anything it’s that this woman has the “juice” and can put in “work like a boss.” Not too long after Melissa, Lizzo tossed her own hat into the ring to play Ursula and the Lizzbians are right behind her. Plus Lizzo would also be positive representation for black, and other non-white women, in addition to plus size prepresentation.

Both women have many supporters for either different or similar reasons, but there are also fans who don’t want to see Lizzo or Melisssa and their reasons are pretty reasonable. Disney villains tend to have the best songs, and “Poor Unfortunate Souls” is iconic. For the live-action film to cut that song out would be as disastrous as having it sung by an actress who’s musical abilities are at best average. Melissa is a fantastic comedian actress who could no doubt give Ursula some funny moments, but is she a bonafide singer?

And the reverse can be said about Lizzo. As a rapper and singer, Lizzo can bring it in full force but how is she as an actress? We need someone who can do both. Ursula, and the people Disney want to profit off their nostalgia from, deserve that. Now if Lizzo or Melissa can do both and knock it out of the park let the haters hate, but when it comes to a list of people who have proven to be capable in both? Here’s my list:

***Disclaimer this list is in no particular order of favorability, or most or least qualified***

Amber Riley

Being a perfect mashup between Lizzo and Melissa, Amber Riley --also known as “Mercedes”-- from Glee is phat with musical greatness and is a proven actress. This California native is well versed in the musical genres of Broadway, Pop, Gospel and R&B. Amber is more than qualified to sing whatever Disney gives her and blow everyone away. Still have doubts? Then check out her Glee covers of “Bust Your Windows,” “All I Want For Christmas” and “Sweet Transvestite,” and her liver performance of “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going.” She’s also played Ursula before, or is everyone going to act like Todrik Hall’s Disney Parody of Cellblock Tango didn’t happen? Amber would be a good choice because she’s not too famous --yet-- to overpower the film; and she deserves so much more mainstream success.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MsAmberPRiley?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor

Jessica Lange

Anyone here who says that this woman can’t act is a damn liar. Jessica Lange has proven she can play a phenomenal villainess who will manipulate a naive protagonist. This woman has been in the business for years and has plenty of experience, especially when it comes to playing a witch. During the American Horror Story’s third season she was wonderful playing the amoral and power hungry Supreme, Fiona Goode. She was charming, regal and intelligent as well a ruthless. Perfect attributes for an antagonist scheming for the throne of Atlantica. As for the singing she’s not powerhouse, but with a little training Jessica could do the singing justice. Her cover of Lana Del Rey’s God and Monsters is proof of that.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jlangedaily?lang=en

Queen Latifah

The one, the only and the incredibly cliché way to introduce someone so legendary and amazing Queen Latifah. She was loved as a hip hop lyricist before cherished as one of the most versatile actresses of modern Hollywood. Queen Latifah’s resume speaks for itself. Queen Latifah is no stranger to being in musicals with roles like Matron “Mama” Morton in Chicago (2002), Motormouth Maybelle in Hairspray (2007), and The Whiz in the live televised musical The Whiz. Other reasons as to why she would be a great choice is because --like Lizzo-- she fits the sweet spot of intersectional representation. Not just that but the fact that Queen Latifah is a queer women makes it even better because the character Ursula was inspired by a Drag Queen named Divine. It makes sense that a LGBT+ inspired character would be played by someone who is a member of that community. Also look at this pic and tell me it doesn’t look right.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/IAMQUEENLATIFAH?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor

MJ Rodriguez

Speaking of honoring the origins of the character, another good pick to play Ursula is the Off-Broadway turned T.V. star MJ Rodriguez. She is a beautiful actress with a lovely voice and is perfection as Blanca in Pose. Do you question it? Then google her performance of “Home” with Billy Porter. To see her play a villain would be a true delight. As Ursula, MJ Rodriguez would make her graceful and someone who you feel you could connect with and feel for before betraying you. Like Ariel’s enemy does. MJ would also do a good job when Ursual needs to switch it up and become “Vanessa” to seductively hex Ariel’s love interest. This actress would bring up another form of body positivity and intersectionality as a transwoman.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/mjrodriguez7?lang=en

Each listed actress would bring something special to the role and anyone of them would be a good choice. Hopefully the casting director will take these traits into consideration when casting this epic role and not just putting anyone with a current major following.

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tinymixtapes · 7 years

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Music Review: Kendrick Lamar - DAMN.

Kendrick Lamar DAMN. [Top Dawg; 2017] Rating: 5/5 For Jill, who would have hated this shit. So I was taking a walk the other day… Sometimes, when I’m taking walks by myself, I make lists in my head of what’s going to get me killed: CANCER. CARDIAC ARREST. PULMONARY EMBOLISM. The worst part about being a hypochondriac is that this shit isn’t just in my head (as if that would make it any less valid); it’s all corporeal, it’s all in my DNA. I’ve had a BLOOD clot, my grandfather died of a HEART ATTACK while shoveling snow when my dad was six years old, CANCER killed my sister. Some say that LOVE can get you killed, but it’s FEAR that’s going to be the death of me. It’s in my DNA. I’ll prolly die from anxiety. What is Kendrick Lamar afraid of? On his latest release, Kendrick reveals that his greatest fear is loss, whether it be of money, creativity, LOVE, LOYALTY from PRIDE, GOD’s light, HUMBLEness. There’s a FEAR present here that no degree of straight fire will ever reverse GOD’s curse against all things black. Doubt and duplicity permeate Kendrick’s lines while he maps his way forward, but he delivers his thoughts with unmatched clarity. Kendrick knows even more now (or at least when he spits knowledge, it’s more succinct): murder, conviction, burners, boosters, burglars, ballers, dead, redemption, scholars, fathers dead with kids. When Kendrick takes a walk, he’s also making lists of how he’ll die, vivid in his imagery in a way that only somebody who’s almost died can be: “anonymous… with promises… walkin’ back home from the candy house… because these colors are standin’ out.” To Pimp a Butterfly saw Kendrick going home after making it out. This time, we hear him wrestling with whether making it out was enough. DAMN. Damn is a derivative of damnare, a rather mundane Latin word meaning loss or harm. John Ayto, author of The Dictionary of Word Origins, reveals that it didn’t become exclusively a theological term or an expletive until its original meaning was lost around 16c; its Biblical use is therefore contested, as its original connotation of mild condemnation does not fit what has eventually become synonymous with exemption from divine mercy. Its use on DAMN. encapsulates all of these historical permutations, as loss, harm, and exclusion (from both divine and mundane spaces) are all prominent themes. There’s a recurring motif, delivered at one point through a voicemail from Kendrick’s cousin Carl, of people of color being cursed by GOD for being inequitable and following other gods. Damn, as a verb here, is something that GOD does. It’s a top-down kind of smiting, but this kind of exchange is also present here between mortals. On opener “BLOOD.,” there’s a sample of FOX News reporters misquoting and deriding his song “Alright” after his 2015 BET Awards performance. “Oh please, ugh, I don’t like it,” one anchor says of its supposed anti-police message. It’s another, fleshier example of punching down, of condemning (or reinforcing condemnation of) a disenfranchised people. On “ELEMENT.,” a song that mostly eschews religious imagery for pointed digs at fake rappers, Kendrick uses “damn” as a participle, adjective, verb, and an expletive in one line, highlighting how those most affected by violence are pushed out of those very positions of power that could protect them: “Damned if I do, if I don’t (yuhhh)/ Goddamn us all if you won’t (yuhhh)/ Damn, damn, damn, it’s a goddamn shame/ You ain’t frontline, get out the goddamn way.” It’s a biting twist on Eleanor Roosevelt’s famous line, delivered as a sparse bridge in between sexy James Blake-produced keyboard stabs and grimy snares. Kendrick is asserting through this track that nobody can take him out of his ELEMENT, which in this case is wherever he’s at. While “damn” itself is used in a plethora of different ways throughout DAMN., it is “DNA.” that sets these permutations into motion through its sheer power, eliciting that initial reaction from its audience: “DAMN.(!)” Kendrick is cracking open his genes all over this thing with vigor, unravelling strands of his pedigree like a Pandora’s ladder, choking those who are offended by his inner duplicitousness: “I got millions, I got riches buildin’ in my DNA / I got dark, I got evil, that rot inside my DNA / I got off, I got troublesome, heart inside my DNA.” There are multitudes here, mutations, mutilations, meditations, millions. Packed so tight that it never stops popping. Unpacking it all is an impossible task. Luckily for us, trying is a Helluva time. I got so many theories and suspicions… As both a religious person and a scholar of religion, I’ve always been fascinated by religious rhetoric and imagery, especially in non-worship music. Biblical imagery is abundant on DAMN., but its intentional juxtaposition with profanity is what makes it stand out. Deuteronomy 28:28 is referenced multiple times and presents us with DAMN.’s central dilemma: “The Lord will afflict you with madness, blindness, and confusion of mind.” This is essentially a curse, one that Kendrick’s cousin Carl uses as an etiology for black suffering. This divine curse leaves Kendrick wrestling with two options throughout DAMN: keep defying it by succeeding against all odds, or guarantee everlasting life by repenting and coming clean. “YAH.” exemplifies Kendrick’s quandary: “I’m not a politician, I’m not ‘bout a religion I’m a Israelite, don’t call me Black no mo’ That word is only a color, it ain’t facts no mo’ My cousin called, my cousin Carl Duckworth Said know my worth And Deuteronomy say that we all been cursed I know he walks the Earth But it’s money to get, bitches to hit, yah Zeroes to flip, temptation is, yah First on my list, I can’t resist, yah Everyone together now, know that we forever” In one verse, there is both a rejection of religion and a reclamation of an ancient religious lineage. Kendrick respects his cousin Carl’s faith amidst adversity, yet offers that temptation is often stronger. Ultimately, Kendrick professes a message of togetherness, locating eternity in fraternal bonds. Attaining redemption, however, rides on making it out in America, a land plagued by its own inequities divorced from those that drove Kendrick’s people out of the Promised Land, America itself a land that promised radical equality for those who have been oppressed and suppressed. As Bono sings in “XXX.,” “It’s not a place/ This country is to be a sound of drum and bass.” U2’s chorus reminds us that America is still at war with itself and is so by its own cruel design. Three months in, DAMN. feels like our first Trump-era classic. It’s as bold and as hard and as hopeful as it is bursting with vitriol. It’s as distracting as it is inciting. It’s as cohesive as it is dense. It’s a volatile, unpredictable chapter in a legacy that’s followed Kendrick from Compton to Congress and now to the Cosmos, as we all struggle for meaning together in a Universe that’s on fire and covered in BLOOD. DAMN. is an expletive shouted into infinity, a judgment of our own judgments, a wrestling with GOD, a letting go of loss and harm, something that we could all give a little more of. It’s a DAMN masterpiece in a world that too often feels like a DAMN shame. FEEL (alternate version) I FEEL like my only accomplishments are reflections I FEEL like my privilege only silences my message I FEEL like I’m losing my GOD DAMN edge if I had one I FEEL like I never had much to say in the first place FEEL like, I FEEL like we’re on two different planets FEEL like I am part of a problem that I can’t fix I FEEL like too many people out prayin’ for themselves I FEEL like violence is a function of FEAR and that’s BULLSHIT GOD. DAMN. you GOD. DAMN. me GOD. DAMN. us GOD. DAMN. we GOD. DAMN. US. ALL. GOD bless every DAMN one of US ALL. Are we gonna live? Or die? “It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by my speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which I prefer.” — Philippians 1:20-22 “Pay attention, that one decision changed both of they lives One curse at a time Reverse the manifest and good karma, and I’ll tell you why You take two strangers, and put ‘em in random predicaments; give ‘em a soul So they can make their own choices and live with it” — “DUCKWORTH.” Two Christmases ago, my sister died of cancer. Around that time, I started experiencing stomach pains and frequent dizziness for no discernible physiological reason; part of me convinced myself that I had somehow contracted cancer from her ghost and that ghost cancer just wasn’t detectable. We weren’t that close, but as those holes have closed up tightly in her absence and my other sister and brother and stepmother and I have grown closer, I’ve realized more and more just how intimately people can be connected. Loss can be physically devastating. On hard days, I’m reminded more than ever before how violent disconnection can be. For a lot of people, life isn’t a choice; it’s a sentence. It’s hard finding lessons in what so often feels like a cavalcade of creative and destructive accidents. But here’s where hope enters: we have some control of that speeding, blistering motorcade. We can listen while others mourn, we can hold each other up when foundations bottom out, we can rebuild this house together, and we can forgive when listening and holding and rebuilding and forgiving seem impossible. Life is DAMN. hard, but it’s shit like DAMN. that make it a bit easier. It’s fresh air over a gravestone. Sunshine on an epitaph. GOD BLESS these molecules, bent on decay. So I was taking a walk the other day… http://j.mp/2oRE5gA

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rpf-bat · 7 years

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The Ghost Of You

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary: Request fic for @bipolardonnie. “okay! can i request a non-sad oneshot about ghost!reader and revenge gee? i dont have any specific ideas in mind so anything is good! xx”

A/N: Not sure if I delivered on “non-sad”, but here ya go.

“Wow, this venue looks like it’s really old,” commented a loud voice, drawing your attention.

So another group of musicians had come to the place you had called home since your death. There hadn’t been a show here in a while. The throng of young, living people here for the concert tonight would certainly make your haunt less lonely.

“Yeah, this bar was originally a speakeasy in the 1920’s,” the owner of the building said informatively as he unlocked the door.

“That’s so cool,” another voice said excitedly. “So, why isn’t this space used more often?”

“Well,” the owner confessed as he opened the door, throwing bright sunlight into your dusty abode, “some people say it’s haunted.”

“…..Haunted?” repeated the first speaker as he walked in. He was an oddly dressed man, with a partially shaved head and a bulletproof vest. Was this the fashion in the land of the living nowadays?

“Yeah,” the owner said nervously, entering second. “Why, does that make you want to reconsider performing here tonight?”

“Not at all,” grinned the second man you’d heard speak, and your eyes widened when you saw how handsome he was. He had long, black hair, and he wore a black suit with a red tie that was much more in line with the fashions you remembered. “We all love horror movies, so haunted’s a plus!”

Movies, you thought. Those had been a new invention when you’d died. Were they still silent? Or could actors talk in them now?

“Think we’ll see any ghosts tonight?” wondered a third man, who wore glasses and a nervous expression, as he entered the building.

You very much doubted it. Nobody had ever been able to actually see you. For the first fifty years or so, this had frustrated you immensely. You’d wanted to communicate, to tell people that you were here. But, most of the people you’d known in life were dead now. They had rushed onwards to the Other Side, not sticking around as you had. It was a lonely afterlife – but, by now, you were used to it.

“We don’t have time to chase ghosts,” a fourth man, with wild, frizzy hair, said as he entered. “We have to get started with soundcheck.”

“I’ll get onstage in a second,” the handsome one shrugged. “I gotta fix my makeup first, though.”

Makeup? you thought curiously. In your day, makeup was not something worn by gentlemen. You weren’t against the idea – you just wondered how much times had changed since your demise.

“All that white face paint makes you look undead,” the loud man chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s the point,” the dark-haired man grinned.

This comment perplexed you. Why would anyone aspire to be undead? You were undead yourself, you supposed. A soul that had died, but hadn’t moved on to peaceful rest. Some might even call you damned.

You hadn’t wanted to haunt this place for eternity. When you’d died, you thought you would find nothingness – an absence of all feeling. That was what you craved. You hadn’t believed in life after death until you saw it. If you had known you’d end up stuck here, perhaps you would have tried harder to cling to life.

As the other men left the backstage area where you sat, carrying their equipment towards the stage, you watched the handsome brunette as he applied face powder in the mirror. You’d used this mirror yourself, many years ago. Now, the cheeks you’d fastidiously kept soft and rosy had long since rotted, leaving only a skull behind. You shuddered when you thought of your body in the cemetery across town, vacant of the soul that still remained in the room where you had breathed your last.

“Ooh, it’s cold in here,” the man muttered to himself as he opened a palette of eyeshadow and placed the brush in a red hue.

Was it? you wondered. Neither cold, nor heat, nor pain had touched you in decades.

That was one of the advantages of being dead, you supposed. Another was that you could stare openly at handsome strangers without being caught. You drew closer to the man, waving a hand in front of his face. He didn’t blink. You weren’t surprised.

You looked him up and down as you watched him brush the shadow onto his eyelids. He had large hands, and what looked to be a strong body. If you were alive, you were sure your face would’ve become flushed.

“Hurry up, Gerard,” shouted the man with the glasses.

So, his name is Gerard, you realized.

“Sorry, I’m coming, Mikey,” Gerard apologized, walking out onto the stage. You floated behind him, following him. You remembered the jazz bands you’d watched perform on this stage once. You’d foxtrotted merrily across the dance floor, having the time of your life.

Those were good days, you thought nostalgically. I wish I’d lived to see more of them.

The music the strange men began to play as they checked to see if their instruments were working was nothing like the tunes you remembered. But, as you listened, you found that it was still rather beautiful.

“This night, walk the dead….,” Gerard crooned as the band launched into another song.

You have no idea, you thought to yourself with a wry smile.

“…..In a solitary style, and crash the cemetery gates,” Gerard continued to sing, “in the dress your husband hates….Lay down, mark the grave, where the searchlights find us drinking by the mausoleum door…..And they found you on the bathroom floor!”

It was coincidence, surely, but the irony was that you had been found dead on a bathroom floor. The floor of the women’s restroom in the back of this bar, to be precise.

It wasn’t a very dignified place to die, you considered in hindsight. You wished you had chosen a better one.

“I miss you,” Gerard sang. “I miss you so far…..”

You became melancholy, for a moment, as you wondered whether there was anyone left alive who still missed you. You were aware that your younger sister had died ten years ago, at the age of eighty-six.

You tried to distract yourself from these thoughts by listening to the rest of the band’s practice. A lot of their songs, you noticed, seemed fixated on the concept of death. It troubled you – as someone who had experienced it personally, you didn’t find death to be all that appealing.

“Hey, boys,” the owner shouted to the band when they were done. “People are going to start arriving soon, so if you’re done rehearsing, you can go backstage for a while until the show starts.”

“Alright,” the peculiarly-dressed man from earlier shrugged, setting down his guitar. “Wanna have a beer with me before the kids get here, Gee?”

“In a minute, Frank,” Gerard replied. “I gotta talk to Jim about something.”

Jim, you remembered. That was the owner’s name. You really should know this by now, but he came around the building so seldom. Even less than his father, or his grandfather (the original owner of the building) had done. Perhaps he was scared of ghosts. If he was, that was silly – you couldn’t even muster up the energy to make yourself visible, let alone perpetrate poltergeist activity. Not that you wanted to hurt anyone, anyway. Mostly, you just wanted someone to talk to.

You hovered curiously by Gerard’s side, wondering what it was he and Jim needed to discuss.

“You said this place was haunted, right?” Gerard asked.

“That’s right,” Jim nodded. “There hasn’t been that much ghost activity here, to be honest, though. People mostly just say that because a young woman died here, back in 1924.”

“Oh, yeah?” Gerard raised an eyebrow. “What was her name?”

They’re talking about me, you thought. It was nice to hear someone ask your name first. Normally, people’s very first (and often only) question was, How did she die?

“They say her name was Y/N,” Jim explained. “She was real young when she passed, too. It was a tragedy.”

“Did she work here?” Gerard wondered.

Jim had to think about this. He was used to being asked about the grisly details of your last day, not about the regular circumstances of your life. Part of you kind of hated that almost all of what people remembered about you anymore was how you’d died – not how you’d lived.

“Yeah, I think my grandpa said she was a cocktail waitress,” Jim recalled.

You hadn’t originally planned to be a waitress your whole life. You’d wanted to eventually leave that line of work for a more glamorous career. Maybe if you’d lived a little longer, you would have.

“She was dating a singer in one of the bands who performed here,” Jim illuminated.

“Like me,” Gerard smiled.

“Nah, nothing like you, son,” Jim shook his head. “He was in the Mafia, I think. A real bad fella.”

He was a jerk, you frowned. You hadn’t realized this until long after your death. When you were alive, you’d loved him – and you’d thought he loved you.

“He got angry, because Y/N had brought a guy friend ‘round to the bar, and he thought Y/N and this man were sneaking around together behind his back,” Jim revealed.

We weren’t sneaking around at all! you thought angrily. We were just friends! Why wouldn’t he just trust me when I said that?!

“Did he kill her out of jealousy, or something?” Gerard asked, alarmed.

“No,” Jim said sadly. “He killed the young man, and, well…..Y/N thought it was her fault. She couldn’t live with herself after that happened, and so, one night, she went into that washroom over there, and well……she took her own life.”

“That’s so sad,” Gerard gasped. He looked like he was legitimately about to cry.

“Well, it was a long time ago,” Jim said, patting Gerard on the shoulder. “In fact, since it’s 2004 now….it’ll be eighty years ago this year.”

Eighty years, you thought, stricken. Have I really been dead for eighty years?!

Jim walked away, but Gerard remained alone on the stage, looking out towards the dancefloor like he was trying to imagine you, and your best friend, and your awful ex-boyfriend, standing there.

You saw him wipe his eyes on his sleeve, and you realized he really was crying.

“Why are you crying for me?” you muttered softly. “You didn’t even know me……”

Gerard’s head jerked up, as if he’d been shocked, and his eyes went wide. “H-hello?” he stammered, clearly unnerved.

Wait a minute…..No. There was no way.

“Did you just……hear me?” you gasped.

Gerard’s eyes darted around the room, like he was trying to find the source of your voice.

“…………Y/N?” he asked finally, almost not willing to believe it.

“Yes,” you said softly, in shock. “It’s me. Hello.”

“……Hi there,” Gerard greeted, still looking freaked out. “Um…..my name’s Gerard?”

“I know,” you said softly. “I heard the others talking to you.”

“Oh, umm……ok,” Gerard said, trying to figure out how to possibly converse with a ghost as if it were perfectly normal. You were surprised he hadn’t run away screaming. Or run to tell his friends that he’d heard a voice from beyond the grave. Instead, he seemed to be legitimately trying to communicate with you.

It was a surprise – and it was all you ever wanted.

“Where are you?” Gerard asked. “I still can’t see you.”

“I’m standing right beside you,” you confessed.

Gerard whipped around, looking to his right.

“On your left,” you chuckled.

Trembling, Gerard glanced to his left side. He seemed to look right through you. You didn’t doubt that he saw only the dusty curtains behind you.

“It’s alright,” you shrugged. “Nobody’s ever been able to see me before.”

“Has anybody been able to hear you, like this, either?” Gerard asked.

“No,” you answered. “You’re the first one.”

Gerard sat down on the floor of the stage, as if he were still trying to process this. “Lucky me,” he murmured, running a hand through his jet hair.

He stuck a finger into his ear, like he was trying to clean it. “……..Maybe I’ve gone nuts,” Gerard said to himself. “Or maybe just done too many damn drugs.”

“You’re not nuts, Gerard,” you insisted. “I’m real.”

“And the story Jim told me? Is it true?” Gerard demanded.

“It is,” you frowned. “Every bit of it.”

“But, you probably don’t want to talk about that,” Gerard said immediately. It amazed you how he just understood.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “Let’s talk about music. I thought your band sounded really good.”

“Thank you,” Gerard said sincerely. “I wasn’t sure if you would like our genre, since you died a bunch of years before it was invented.”

“What do you call this type of music?” you wondered.

“Um…..I guess you would call the music we make post-hardcore?” Gerard surmised. “Though that label probably doesn’t mean a heck of a lot to you, since you died before regular hardcore really became a thing, either, huh?”

“I’m not familiar with the term,” you admitted. “But, I like the way it sounds.”

“I’m glad,” Gerard smiled. He had such a cute smile. You wanted to talk to him more……

But, suddenly, the frizzy-haired man from before walked out onto the stage. “Gerard, who are you talking to?” he asked.

“You can’t hear her, Ray?” Gerard asked, standing back up.

“Hear who?” Ray said with a confused look. “Are you ok, man? I heard you out here, talking to yourself, when there’s clearly nobody here. Are you……on something?”

“I’m not high,” Gerard snapped. “I was……”

He looked to his left again, as if he were wishing you would suddenly appear, so he could prove that what he’d heard wasn’t simply in his head.

“……Nothing,” Gerard said finally. “I’ll be backstage in a minute, ok?”

“Alright,” Ray shrugged, and walked back off the stage.

“Why do you think you’re able to hear me, when Ray, and the others, can’t?” you asked Gerard, perplexed by why he was different.

“Maybe it’s because I’m closer to the Other Side than they are,” Gerard confessed sadly.

“What?” you gaped.

“That is…..” Gerard took a breath, as if he were unsure whether or not to admit this. “I’ve been thinking about dying a lot lately.”

“Like……hurting yourself?” you guessed.

“Yeah,” Gerard confided. “I just…..I got all these kids depending on me, telling me I’m their inspiration. It’s a lot of pressure. And they all want me to be this crazy, debauched rock star. And so I try to be who they want me to be, and, well….getting into character for these songs means focusing on everything negative and bitter in my life. I already struggle with depression, so that’s not helping it. Not that you probably know what depression even is, Y/N. I don’t think they had a word for it when you were alive.”

“I know how it feels to want to make your life end,” you said sadly. “I know, because I did. I want you to know, Gerard, something I’ve never been able to tell anyone……I regret it. A lot. I wish I’d lived. I wish I had done more with my life, instead of throwing it away. I don’t know if you even care to listen to some dead stranger’s opinion, but…..I don’t think you should do it.”

“I think your opinion does count,” Gerard said, like he was beginning to think hard about this. “Because, you’re the only one who can actually tell me if it’s worth it. If I’ll get to see the people I love, like my grandma, when I die. If I’ll still be suffering, on the Other Side.”

“I haven’t really been to the Other Side, myself,” you admitted. “I just stayed here. There’s no guarantee you’ll be able to cross over, ether.”

“If I got stuck here like you,” Gerard considered with a bitter smile, “maybe we could be together. Maybe I could finally see your face.”

“No,” you shook your head, although you knew he couldn’t see it. “As nice as it would be to have a companion, you don’t belong on my plane, Gerard. You belong with the living. You’re just beginning to do the things you’re meant to do in this world. I can tell.”

“You really think that?” Gerard asked vulnerably.

“I really do,” you said. Your eyes would have been wet with tears, if you were still capable of such physical sensations.

“Ok,” Gerard decided. “If a dead girl’s telling me death ain’t a good look on me, I’ll listen.”

He got up, and strode off the stage, leaving you to your eternal quiet.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You watched him as he talked with his bandmates. He didn’t say a word to them of what he’d experienced with you. It was like your little secret.

Soon, the room was filled with teenagers in rebellious clothing, with Xs on their hands. They cheered as Gerard and his friends took the stage.

“We are My Chemical Romance!” Gerard shouted, pumping his fist in the air. “And this song goes out to Y/N! Your memory will carry on, sugar, I promise you that!”

The crowd and his bandmates alike stared back at him, as if wondering who the hell he was talking about. But, you were touched.

Ignoring the confusion he’d caused, Gerard began to sing again.

This night, walk the dead…….

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #revenge gerard #ghost reader

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