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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 3 years

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Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Six (part 1)

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3293

Warnings: ANGST, bad language words

A/N: Tumblr sucks. It forced me to split this chapter up because I exceeded the text block limit. That’s just how I write! Link to part 2 at the end.

A/N 2: Thank you again to everyone for showing this story so much love! And thank you to everyone for your patience and support as I struggled to put this out. As you can tell from the multiple parts, it was a doozy. 🥰 divider credit- @firefly-graphics

In case you missed the update, I will be publishing a new chapter every other Saturday from here on out. Schedule is in the Masterlist in my header.

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

Monday morning rolled around, and your good mood from the weekend followed you into the office. Spending all of Saturday and the majority of Sunday texting James had lent to this early morning cheerfulness. You couldn’t help the smile on your face. You had even managed to arrive before most of your team.

You hummed a sweet melody as you booted up your computer and organized a few files for Timmons to peruse. They were statements intended for the press needing his approval about a particular prominent CEO or A-list celebrity client. The firm was not confirming nor denying any knowledge of said client’s whereabouts the previous week or why there was photographic evidence of them coming out of FlashDancers NYC. Other files included those seeking rebranding approval for existing companies looking to revamp their image.

Most importantly, today was contract signing day for Stark Industries.

You had compiled the document from a generic template the company used for all its clients, manually plugging in Stark Industries’ information in the correct spots and changing or omitting any services rendered or not. E-signing contracts were not only environmentally responsible, but they also saved a lot of your time from printing out numerous copies of a single agreement.

All you needed now was Timmons’ go-ahead to email the contract, and Pepper Potts could plug in her Jane Hancock.

Seeing Timmons enter the workroom, tweed coat draped over his forearm and attaché in hand, you rose from the seat behind your desk. You shuffled into his office after him.

He hung his jacket from the coat rack in the corner near a bank of expansive windows and placed the small, leather case he’d been carrying on the sturdy oak desk. He pulled out a stack of papers and tapped the pile against the desktop to straighten them before setting them down. Looking up at you briefly, he tugged out his laptop next.

You positioned a mug of coffee on Timmons’ desk, turning the handle just so, making it easier for him to grab. You cleared your throat gently. He glanced up at you again.

“Here’s the media statements for today,” you said, handing him a group of manila folders. You smoothed down the hem of your cardigan, smiling at the reminder of Bucky. You wished there had been a way to apologize to him again. He had left your apartment with such a pained look on his face. Maybe you could ask Peter. “And the Stark contract pdf is ready to go. I can email it over to you for final approval.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Timmons replied absent-mindedly, lifting the organized piles on the desk as if looking for something.

“Oh, okay,” you returned, nodding your head diminutively. “Do you want me to forward the contract on to Ms. Potts, then?”

“Ah-ha!” Timmons exclaimed, plucking a pen from underneath a stack of envelopes. He twirled the writing implement in his hand and peered at you, finally taking in your presence for the first time that morning.

An uncomfortable feeling washed over you as he evaluated you from head to toe. What was he looking at? Your hands tensed into fists as you continued to wait for his answer, growing impatient.

“Should I go ahead and do that, then, sir?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest like a protective suit of armor to deflect prying eyes.

“Yes, yes. That should be acceptable,” Timmons answered.

It threw you off balance. What had gotten into him? Timmons always had to have the final say on everything. It was so unlike him!

“Just so we’re clear- I will be sending the Stark Industries contract via email to Pepper Potts to e-sign,” you said, seeking clarification. You wanted to dot all i’s and cross all t’s because you weren’t going to lay your ass on the line for a misunderstanding. Especially not with something as crucial as the Stark Industries account.

“What? No, there’s been a change of plans,” he corrected.

You stared at him dumbfounded. Was he purposely trying to give you mental whiplash?

“Change of plans,” you affirmed. “Has Stark Industries decided not to use the firm, sir?”

“Oh, no. They’re still going with us,” Timmons said, rearranging the clutter he’d made on his desk.

You dropped your arms to your sides, although inside, you felt like throwing them into the air in frustration. Why was he so vague? He was usually wholly transparent with you. “Would you mind explaining it to me, please?” you asked, borderline annoyed. “Last time I checked, Stark Industries’ contract signing was still on the calendar for today’s agenda.”

“And it still is,” Timmons acknowledged. “It’s moved to an in-person signing.”

Your stomach plunged to the floor. Shit! You hadn’t printed out the contract! When was the appointment? How much time did you have? So many questions flew through your head.

How could Timmons keep something like this from you? Your heart hammered in your chest. You practically wobbled on your feet. Were you going to be sick?

I’m going to get fucking fired over this, you thought, trying to steady your breathing.

“Will you be ready to go in twenty minutes?” Timmons questioned, sitting down in the comfy desk chair and opening his laptop.

“Go?” you squeaked, attempting to recall how much you had in savings. You shook your head, trying to understand his words. Was he already asking you to clear out your desk?

“Yes. The car will be here at nine,” he said, keyboard clacking as he typed something.

“Car?” you asked, finding great difficulty comprehending the situation. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Timmons regarded you in bafflement. “Have you been drinking?”

“What? NO!” you declared. You didn’t need that added to “the inability to perform required tasks” as a reason for your firing. “I’m-I’m just really confused, sir.”

“About what?” Timmons asked, sitting back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.

“Well…” you started. “What do we need a car for?”

His chocolate brown eyes shone with what you imagined might be excitement. “To drive upstate, of course.” He smirked as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desktop.

Upstate? What was upstate?

Timmons’ smile broadened as realization crept across your face. “Are we-”

“Yup!” he interrupted gleefully. He was like a child in a candy store. “We are headed to the Avengers Compound with a personal invitation from Tony Stark himself!”

You blinked several times at your boss, not entirely computing what he’d said. You were usually a lot quicker on the uptake than this. Why were you having such an off-day?

“We?” you asked, shaking your head clear of the cobwebs. Why on Earth would he bring you along?

“I need someone who knows the ins and outs of these contract signings,” he said, fiddling with his pen again.

Wasn’t that his job?

“I’m just the schmoozer- the people-person,” he admitted, shrugging. “You’re the real brains behind this whole operation.

You nodded your head in agreement. He wasn’t wrong. The office would collectively collapse without you, and it felt good to hear your actual boss say it out loud.

“You better not forget it, either. Especially when my job performance evaluation comes around,” you asserted.

Timmons swiftly saluted you as if he was the subordinate. You huffed a laugh at him while shaking your head with incredulity. You took a step or two toward the office door before looking over your shoulder at him.

Timmons had turned back to his laptop screen already and started typing again. “So, twenty minutes?” he asked with an air of levity.

You faltered, nearly tripping over your feet. “Wait? You were serious about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Timmons wondered, looking up hurriedly from his laptop.

“I need to print out the contract and make copies, for one thing,” you mentioned, almost accusatory. Maybe if he had warned you ahead of time, you wouldn’t be so defensive.

“Already taken care of,” he soothed.

“What do you mean it’s ‘already taken care of’?” you asked, raising your hands to make quotation marks with your fingers.

“I had one of the other grunts do it last night.”

You gaped at Timmons like a goldfish, mouth popping open and closed. Did you hear him correctly? Timmons did something to make your job easier? You could hug him right now! You felt like pinching yourself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Once you gathered your wits again, you glanced to your feet bashfully. “Oh,” you spoke, absently fingering the bottom button of your cardigan. “Thank you.” You smiled gratefully.

Timmons returned the smile with one of his own. “You’re welcome.”

“Nine o’clock, then,” you agreed, moving further toward the doorway.

“On the dot!”

Words couldn’t even begin to describe the Avengers Compound. You’d seen it on the news, sure, but that didn’t compare to seeing it in real life. It was grandiose, imposing. You felt dwarfed in size looking up to the high rooftop.

It was almost ostentatious in a way. Much like the man who designed it. Larger than life.

Tony Stark.

Tony had insisted he take you and Timmons around on the tour of the compound. You still hadn’t seen the need for a tour.

“When Tony Stark invites you to tour the Avengers compound, you don’t say no,” Timmons had said in the car-ride up when you questioned why it was necessary.

It was all superfluous, really. Like Tony was trying to woo the firm to sign them, not the other way around.

A headache was forming at the base of your skull as you waited in line at the reception desk to return your visitor security badge.

The tour of the facility seemed to have been drug out longer than it needed. Tony had appeared overeager to show off every little gadget or trinket. Or maybe he just liked to hear himself talk.

When Timmons excepted the lunch invitation after the tour was completed, you felt the urge to run down to the armory, grab a gun, and shoot yourself in the foot. You were kicking yourself for ever agreeing to come on this dumb tour.

As the line slowly dragged forward, the muffled noise of men’s voices caught your ear. It sounded like an argument. Your line of sight followed to where the altercation originated.

Standing twenty feet away was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, clearly disagreeing.

Your breath stilled as you watched the two super soldiers quarrel in a near-stage-whisper. What could they be fighting about?

From your place in line, you saw Bucky shake his head adamantly, his chestnut hair swishing about his shoulders. He might have even stamped his foot like a child, but you were too preoccupied with the look of abject horror on his face. He turned away as if to flee, but his friend caught him by the shoulder to stop him.

Were you causing this reaction from him?

You looked to your right to see if there was possibly someone else. All you noticed, though, was an empty space. Had you hurt Bucky’s feelings that badly? Your stomach clenched. The last thing you wanted was to be on an Avengers’ shit-list.

Glancing back to the two men, you caught Steve gesturing Bucky forward with short sweeping motions of his hands. Bucky shook his head again, stubbornly.

Even at this distance, you could feel the frustration rolling off Captain America.

Like a sucker-punch to the gut, you suddenly became very aware you were eavesdropping on Captain America and his best friend.

Your cheeks heated instantaneously, embarrassed of your staring. You shouldn’t be spying on them, you admonished. No matter how much your curiosity is piqued.

It was none of your business.

You turned away from them, facing the reception desk again.

As hard as you tried not to pay attention, you could still see what looked like wild gesturing from the corner of your eye.

What if they started fighting? Shouldn’t you be conscious of your surroundings for your own safety? You fidgeted in your spot as you debated your moral compass.

Fuck it, you thought.

As you peered over to the two super soldiers, Steve shoved Bucky forward gently, causing the latter to trip over his booted feet. Bucky glared back at his friend, his hands clenching into fists. Steve shooed him further. You could barely make out the word “Go!” on his lips.

As if in slow motion, you eyed Bucky taking step after step toward you. Was he coming over here?

Once you realized what was happening, your heart plummeted to your knees as your head whipped around to the front of the line.

Bucky Barnes was definitely walking over to you.

Had he noticed you staring?

You tried to stabilize your heart rate with slow, easy breaths, but Bucky was beside you much sooner than you could imagine.

A waft of aftershave hit your nose- woodsy and deliciously masculine. Your stomach swooped.

God, he smelled good.

Without having to turn your head, you could feel his brawny mass hovering near you.

How do you play this?

Perplexed?

“Oh, my gosh! I had no idea you’d be here!” Of course, he wouldn’t believe that. This is where the Avengers lived. He’d probably think you were a stalker.

Apologetic?

“I’m so sorry Peter and I made fun of you! Will you ever forgive me?” Nah, too needy or clingy.

Or--

Before you could think of any other ways to portray the situation, you heard a large gush of air escape from Bucky. Was he nervous?

“Hey-hey, (Y/N),” he said, voice shaky.

You gazed to your left. Bucky looked as white as a ghost. Had his ego taken that big of a hit?

At that moment, you wanted to do nothing more than wrap him in your arms and tell him sorry, and everything would be okay. You couldn’t, of course. You didn’t know the guy. So you settled for the next best thing.

You smiled at him beatifically. “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

Like a veil had been pulled, his demeanor changed instantly. He returned the smile. “Ja-” he started but scrunched his nose as if he’d made a mistake. “Please. Call me Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you replied.

Timmons turned around, ahead of you in line, and eyeballed you. You gave him a dismissive look, praying he wouldn’t butt in.

“So, you here visiting?” Bucky asked, observing the badge in your hand.

“Sorta. It’s a work thing,” you remarked, waving the plastic fob in the air. “Stark Industries has hired my firm as their PR representative. It was signing day.”

“Ah,” Bucky said, nodding in understanding.

“And I got the tour and lunch courtesy of Tony Stark,” you added.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky’s eyebrows raised in interest. “What did you think?”

“Honestly?” You watched Bucky shake his head in agreement. “It was extremely overwhelming. How do you not get lost in this place?”

Bucky laughed. Crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes, yet he looked so boyish. He was beautiful.

“When I first got here, I did several times,” he huffed. “Every hallway looks exactly the same!”

“Right?!” you exclaimed. “I kept thanking my lucky stars that I had a tour guide!”

Timmons rolled his eyes and pivoted, facing front.

“Steve had to draw me a map to help me find my living quarters after the third time,” Bucky confessed, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, no!” you empathized, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. “That must have been so embarrassing!”

“Bird brain caught wind of it and gave me shit for weeks,” he lamented.

You gave him a confused look, not understanding who or what he was referring to.

Realizing his mistake, Bucky corrected, “Sorry. Bird brain is Sam.”

“Because he’s Falcon?”

Bucky bobbed his head yes, looking a little sheepish.

“It’s clever,” you grinned. “I like it.”

Bucky reciprocated the smile, and your chest warmed. It was a feeling you usually felt while texting James. Light and airy.

Finally making it to the reception desk, you relinquished your security badge to the pretty blonde in the too-tight sweater set. She handed you a clipboard to initial and fill out your departure time.

While signing, you surveyed the blonde as Bucky stepped closer. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and she bit down on her bottom lip. Was she giving him bedroom eyes?

A new kind of warmth flooded your body. It felt a lot like jealousy as it snaked its way up to your ribs and circled your collarbones, which was absurd because you had no claim to this man. You’d met him one other time. Why would you feel this way?

Shoving the clipboard back at the receptionist, you spun toward Bucky. He regarded her politely and nodded, “Ma’am.”

Her shoulders slumped, and a frown slithered onto her painted lips. Somehow you felt triumphant, but not sure why. Bucky hadn’t picked you over her.

Your heart thumped harder in your chest as you walked side by side with Bucky, nearing the exit. You were suddenly overcome with the feeling of apologizing. What had you told James if you ever saw Bucky again? Apologize profusely and ask him to coffee.

You smiled at Bucky once again as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. The sound of a throat clearing resonated nearby. It wasn’t until you glanced up did you register Timmons standing so close. You had nearly forgotten about him.

Trying to gather your courage, you glimpsed between the two men. Bucky was squinting suspiciously at Timmons, and it made you chuckle lightly. “Easy tiger,” you assured. “That’s my boss, Roger Timmons.”

Bucky’s blue eyes widened a fraction, and he raised a hand in hello. “Sir.”

Timmons raised his chin in acknowledgment before looking down at his watch. You took it as his way of telling you to hurry up.

Okay, it’s now or never.

“Would you like to go to coffee with me?” Bucky blurted out, cheeks coloring pink.

Your eyes roamed across his handsome face. The boyishness was back, along with a touch of uncertainty. He was sweet, regardless of what the media claimed about him. Your lips curled up into a broad smile. “You read my mind,” you revealed, then winced. “That’s not one of your superpowers, is it?”

Bucky tittered. “No, no mind-reading.”

“Good,” you said, relieved.

“Whaddya say? Coffee?”

You dipped your head in a slow yes. “It’ll have to be after work, though.” You motioned over your shoulder with your thumb. “The slave driver over there is taking me back to the office to put me to work.”

Giggling, as you heard a scoff come from behind where you were standing, you reached into your purse and pulled out a pen and an old receipt. You quickly jotted down your work address. Handing it to Bucky, you began moving towards Timmons. “I get off at five,” you called. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” You waved goodbye.

Bucky smirked. “Don’t work too hard!”

You flashed him one last smile before disappearing through the exit door.

You had a coffee date with Bucky Barnes!

You couldn’t believe it! The giddiness swelled inside you.

You gazed at Timmons’ profile as you walked to the waiting car parked at the curb. He had that look on his face.

It was a long drive back to the city. There was no way you could endure it if he started up now.

You gave a stern look before you stated, “Whatever you’re thinking, keep it to yourself.”

Timmons threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“Uh-huh,” you said dubiously. Timmons smiled smugly as you both climbed into the town car.

Chapter Five | Chapter 6 (part 2)

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

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cruel summer fic: director’s cut

fever dream high in the quiet of the night

so...............for a fic i wrote in such a short amount of time, and also for a fic written by me, there’s actually a surprising amount of Stuff To Analyze in here. themes. motifs, if you will. anyway. i am really proud of them, and ainslee and helen and sam enabled me, so i’m gonna talk about some of them here!

fair warning, this gets a little long. hence the cut. also i know not everyone cares. and that is super fucking valid. anyway. let’s get into it. spoilers for the fic under the cut, obviously.

1. colors

so this fic has a lot of colors, like a lot more than i normally include (since i tend to write dialogue-heavy stuff). thematically the main important colors are blue and red. the ~blue~ is more or less for this like...physical relationship, but also blue of course connotes sadness and any kind of negative feeling in general (and re: cruel summer the song, "it's blue, the feeling i got"); the ~red~ is there in more romantic moments. the VERY first line of the fic says "the sky is bleeding navy blue" talking from the get-go about jack's uncertainty and how nervous he is and how unfamiliar the terrain is for him. but later on, in the scene when alex randomly picks jack up to go on a late-night adventure, we get this line:

“You certainly surprised me showing up at my house,” he says. “Any reason you thought I would be the best person to join you on your adventure?”

Alex casts a glance at him. The red stop sign before them is a jarring change from all the blacks and blues and washed-out yellows around them.

so there's this flash of red in the midst of the darkness and all this ~blue~ around them, and this is almost a romantic moment, because up until this they've pretty much only been hooking up and they're not even really friends. but now alex has specifically come to take jack on an Adventure. also i think it's interesting that it's a stop sign! possibly conflicting signals!

but then in the nightclub scene there's these lights ("flashes of blue and red keep washing over Alex’s face, making him difficult to look at for too long") and this is the scene where jack tells alex how he feels and then alex says that they wouldn't work. and it's not that alex doesn't feel the same, but alex is rejecting him anyway, so it's somehow a moment that is both romantic and tragic, hence both colors over alex's face at once. and then here:

Blue light washes over Alex. He gives Jack a hard look. “You’d tell your family?”

it's like..........that's the turning point. alex says this and it flips the argument in his favor and proves his point that they couldn't work, and that's a really fucking sad moment for the two of them. but then outside the nightclub, jack keeps talking about alex's red converse. like:

Jack staggers, and Alex grabs ahold of him, wrapping one of Jack’s arms around his shoulders.

“Easy,” he says. “I got you. Just focus on one spot until you get your balance.”

[...] Jack stares lasers into Alex’s red Converse.

because first of all the gesture itself of alex holding jack to help him get his balance is romantic and that even THOUGH alex rejected him there is still something romantic there. and it's here again later:

The scenery races by, Baltimore in all its trashy glory, but Jack fixes his gaze on Alex’s shoe until all he sees is red.

until all he sees is red.......it's all love baby. just call him FLETCHER cos it's all love

(there's also something to be said about the hickeys that are supposedly "reddish-purple"...purple as the middle ground between red and blue...something romantic but kind of painful...masquerading as a thing that exists without feeling...and another thing to be said about when jack falls from the tree and his palms are bleeding red and alex patches him up...but we'd be here all day)

2. shadows/darkness

i honestly don't know how much of this was intentional and how much just worked out, but there’s this idea of a dark cloud of rumors that surrounds alex? there's a lot of talk about rumors and reputation in here. like one of the first lines is:

From what Jack has heard, Alex is bad news. All he has to go on are rumors, but rumors start from somewhere, and rumors surround Alex like a storm cloud.

he's surrounded in this dark cloud of rumors! that's mentioned again in the scene at the high school:

After a while, a cloud of rumors resolves into a reputation, and Alex’s is impossible to ignore.

and this feels inherently dark, and this fic is inherently dark (not thematically just literally dark because it almost entirely takes place at night) but alex specifically seems to be shrouded in shadows and darkness, a LOT. his very first appearance in the fic is introduced like this:

There’s a shadow outside Jack’s window.

Something too irregular to be a heartbeat rams against Jack’s chest. He approaches the window. In the dark, dressed in black from head-to-toe, Alex looks like a robber, or maybe a ninja, or maybe a nightmare.

and almost immediately after that:

Alex fits so incongruously into it, absorbing all the light from Jack’s lamp like a six-foot black hole.

importantly, this is the very first scene of the fic, so this alex is the closest to Reputation-Alex as he gets in the fic, because hereafter jack starts learning more and more about him and the threads of this reputation start to fray and fall away. but in this very beginning, jack sees alex as someone surrounded by these rumors, and he keeps noticing shadows and darkness around alex, and alex (dressed in all black) kind of tries to be seen that way, too.

and then when they're in the high school, this Dark High School At Nighttime, the darkness over alex's face returns. they've all but broken into their high school and that's a very Reputation-Alex thing to do! jack sees this reputation around him, not necessarily as a bad thing but just as something that is very present. this exchange:

“No, it’s cool. I get it. Lotta rumors about me.” Alex nods. Jack can’t read his tone, can’t tell if he likes that his reputation precedes him or not.

“What’s your favorite?” he asks. “Is that a weird question?”

Alex looks at Jack, face shrouded in shadows. “Who cares?”

they're talking about alex's rep and his face is shrouded in shadows. jack is very aware of these shadows. he's not afraid of them or anything. but he knows they're there. he keeps mentioning them. he's never not aware.

and theeeen when there's light on his face...and jack sees him........clearing away this Shadow of a Reputation..........there's subsequently this theme of gold/light on or around alex, in certain moments when jack Sees alex. in the first scene:

Jack breaks away and the lamp light casts a glow over Alex’s face. It occurs to Jack for the first time that Alex is beautiful.

and also from that scene:

“Shh,” he says, grabbing Jack’s face in one hand. His eyes look like shimmering gold. “Your parents will hear.”

and in the high school (this one has Layers) when alex buys jack something from the vending machine, and they kind of...........become friends:

Now he and Alex stand before one, bluish-white light awash over Alex like a fluorescent halo.

there's this light around him and jack can see him, and especially on the heels of that conversation where they both talk about how the other person is good for them, this is a good moment of jack Seeing alex as a person and a friend and not seeing his Reputation

3. the halo (aka the devil/angel dichotomy)

this part is very important to me, so here we go. in the final scene, when alex comes out of his house to talk to jack, his appearance is characterized like this:

By the time Alex appears, a shadow backlit by streetlamps, incandescent halo in full effect, Jack is very close to a nervous breakdown.

now. first of all. his halo at the vending machine had been fluorescent, and his halo now is incandescent. aside from the obvious ~angel/devil~ dichotomy (this part happens only moments later: “I love you too,” Alex says in a rush, and then a devilish grin splits his face in two as he takes Jack’s hand in his own) (i.e. "he looks up, grinning like a devil"), the color of the halo has changed. it started as this clean fluorescent bluish white, like their relationship was before; incandescent light is warmer and it feels a lot closer to red. so the light behind alex's halo has changed, because the nature of their relationship has changed. and that's important.

but the other important thing is that he has a halo at all. because alex is the "devil" in this fic and jack is the "angel," so to speak, of course. but in these two moments, jack sees him as an angel, and he sees this halo. and then JUST after that incandescent halo line, there's this line:

As he comes closer, the streetlight glow fades until only darkness surrounds them both.

importantly: it surrounds them BOTH. the darkness isn't just alex's now. maybe that's because jack has changed and he's done a very non-jack thing, a very alex thing, but whatever the reason, the Rep isn't just alex's now, and jack is aware (not negatively or anything, just Conscious) that it's now around them both. in short, the devil isn't just alex now, but jack as well, at least a little. and then there's also this, and this is the last way jack describes alex:

Alex’s smile gleams brilliantly, impossibly white.

so......maybe.......he's a little bit an angel. a little.

4. height

this is small, but in the beginning there's this:

With a start, Jack realizes he’s actually taller than Alex. Somehow he’d never noticed. Alex takes up space. Jack never has.

this is a scene in which jack feels like alex has the power. because alex has the experience and the Reputation and this is the kind of thing he Does, and it's not something jack has Ever Done. but THEN, in the high school, there's THIS:

An echoing silence fills the space between them. Jack pushes himself off the wall. The two inches he has on Alex suddenly feel very real.

alex is insecure in this scene. he's saying jack is a good kid and that jack is good for him because alex is a bad kid and a bad influence, and suddenly jack has the "power" (so to speak) and alex is the weaker one. because alex is feeling insecure. so suddenly jack realizes not only that he and alex might not be as different as he thinks, but also that alex isn't this untouchable Reputation, that he's also just a kid who resents himself sometimes. and that's very important for their relationship! for jack to realize that alex is not on this pedestal, that he is also just a kid.

5. stuff i did not do on purpose

these are things that either i noticed or that got pointed out to me after i posted the fic but i will gladly take credit for them if you feel like giving it lmfao

(1) there are a lot of taylor references. some of these were intentional (yes it does say cruel twice, that was on purpose lmao), and the mention of august ("August starts melting away, slipping through Jack’s fingers") was kinda a callback, but it fully slipped my mind that all the reputation talk could have read like a reference. "For something so heated, it certainly feels delicate” was not an intentional reference to delicate. but kinda cool that it worked out that way !!!

(2) in the high school scene, jack tells alex that he's the worst thing he's ever done. and then at the end he tells alex, “Alex, I honestly think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” talk about a fucking 180!!!!!

(3) in the very first scene there's this:

and when Jack says he’s out on a limb he means it. To fall from here would mean almost certain death, but fuck, it might just be worth it.

and then later, jack literally falls from the tree. and on top of that, alex is the reason he falls (the texts), but ALSO, alex is the person who's there to patch jack up. it's not "certain death," BECAUSE alex is there. jack hadn't been wrong; alex had been the cause of his fall, but he'd also been the reason why the fall hadn't been "fatal." (using hyperbolic words to make this point)

(4) the first and final scenes parallel each other. in the first scene jack's room is in complete darkness except for the one light at his bedside. in the last scene, too, they're surrounded by darkness. the streetlamps illuminate alex briefly but then the light fades and it's just the two of them in the dark again.

on top of that, here's this from the scene in the car towards the beginning:

“What are you doing here?” [Jack] whispers, leaning through the window. “Turn off your headlights, someone might see.”

and from the last scene:

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alex hisses, and he sounds nervous, for what Jack thinks might be the first time since they’ve known each other. “My dad is still awake, you know.”

so the cautious (jack) has become the reckless, and the reckless (alex) becomes the cautious!!!! that's shown in a LOT of ways in this last scene, but that one is particularly salient.

also, this doesn’t really go anywhere but it is one of my favorite lines of figurative language in the whole thing:

It’s a dumb joke in a lot of ways and Jack gets the sense that had he made it to anyone else it would have landed like an airplane on fire, but Alex actually chuckles.

airplane on fire!!! it’s just so much fun. and so evocative. and i like it.

so anyway, that’s my director’s cut analysis of cruel summer fic. if you read this, or even if you just read the fic, or even if you read this WITHOUT reading the fic (although ???? i think it will make more sense if you read the fic), thank you for indulging me!!! i am extremely happy with the way this fic came out. point being. thank you for joining me. love ya <3

#god i wanna make a playlist for this fic so BAD #the thing is i HAVE a playlist where the plot is very close to the plot of this fic but that's just coincidence #so i might just fuck around and do it #anyway thanks everyone for humoring me #xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo ill kill and die for you all xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo #stuff #director's cut #cruel summer fic #i've never done a director's cut but that's because there has never been so much stuff to Talk About before so like #also yessss i know i'm not a Director and this is Fanfiction #but i like the phrase director's cut i think it fits i'm keeping it you can pry it outta my COLD DEAD HANDS #complete full disclosure this was originally typed up with the intent of only sending it to helen and ainslee and possibly sam #and it was written on discord #sorry if it doesnt make a lotta sense #theres some other stuff but it's a lot more obvious #like the scene in jack's bed where jack resists the urge to brush alex's hair away and when he DOES do it it's with the excuse of sex #versus in the nightclub when he doesn't disguise the action at all #or the 'take your parents' car' 'no' >>> he takes his parents car thing #anyway there are just THINGS in here #STUFF!!!!

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your-villainous-neighbour · 3 years

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FIC WRITER INTERVIEW

Tagged by: @hackedbyawriter thamk

Name: Sam/enigma3000

fandoms: (ones i've written for because we don't have time for me to list all my fandoms) SMZS, Marvel, Black Mirror (but thats just for my eyes go away), Angels in America, Attack on Titan, Article 15, Kota Factory), Padmaavat

two-shot: none. What is a two shot pls it's either 1 chapter or anywhere between 5 to 283728. god bless

most popular multi chapter fic: Five Stages would be the most popular, I think, considering it has the most reads/kudos of all my multi chapter works. Honourary mention to Guns and Roses though, because it has 101 kudos (as of 12th july 2021) for a fandom that's 50ish people big + for a pairing that literally doesn't even exist

Actual worst part of writing: getting started. GETTING STARTED. GOOD GOD HOW THE FUCK DO YOU OPEN A STORY "ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A BITCH WHO NEEDED THERAPY" IS LOOKING REAL GOOD RN. Also the build up to the main event. No I don't want to write the drive home or the ensuing boring ass conversation. But I have to :(

How you choose your titles: I don't choose my titles as much as they choose me to be honest. They just sort of come to me, I'm pretty good w naming things that way. Most of the time it's a line/word from the fic. Sometimes it's a pun.

do you outline: kinda yes, kinda no. I definitely have a plot in mind and I never deviate from that (or if I do I make sure it's more a short detour than a whole new tangent), that way I avoid plot holes or discontinuity or writing too much/too little. But that's still very surface level, the real writing flows completely free.. Chapters are never outlined, save for what I have in mind. I've found I write better when given the freedom to let my characters do whatever tf they want. So yeah. It isn't so much an outline as a synopsis, really.

ideas you probably won't get around to, but wouldn't it be nice: five stages chapter 5- jk jk I'm doing it I promise, I have a 100 bullet point outline already I just need to get around to writing it. I think I'll say: smzs sun/moon au. Kartik as the Sun, Aman as the Moon, it's about the sun and the moon only getting to meet for two weeks in spring (y'know, when you see the sun and the moon in the sky together? yeah that) the fic is centered around one of those two week intervals before they're forced apart by duty again. It's absolutely beautiful, whatever I have of it, but I don't see myself completing it or posting it to be honest. hm.

callouts @ me: 1) enough with the fucking commas madarchod good god 2) no, waiting for the fic to just come to you is not a good strategy, employ a writing schedule or else 3) IT DOESN'T!!! NEED!!! TO BE PERFECT!!! 4) write for yourself more. Stop refreshing the page to see how many kudos you got. It doesn't matter. 5) you............. r e a l l y enjoy pushing the poetic license there do you NOT

best writing traits: I absolutely nail characterisation, I tend to understand characters inside out and the phrase "out of character" ain't even in my vocab <3 also I've been told that the way i do imagery/the way I describe things is very vivid, makes the reader feel like they're watching it happen. My dialogues flow naturally. And I use pretentious words like I'm fluent in superiority complex. So that's nice

Also, as a personal fave, I tend to add humour everywhere in a way that it blends seamlessly with the plot at hand :D I like to employ the full human emotional spectrum to keep my readers on their toes always ❤︎

spicy tangential option: All the sax and violins I write (especially the latter) is a... significantly watered down version of what plays out in my head :)

(W. Was that it. Was that what this question meant-)

Tagging: ok all the multi chapter writers i know have already been tagged so I'm just gonna say: anyone who wants to do this <3

#sam tw

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, SAY! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RYUK.

Admin Jen: Say, I wish there were words to describe my joy over your application. Not only because you’re bringing us my beloved Pale Rider, but because of the beautiful way with which you captured them. There was so much to love about your app, but I have to admit that it was the para sample which stole my heart. Ryuk’s voice, his image of the other Horsemen and the way it bled into his dialogue throughout, the nuance in his perspective and the small tics in his mannerisms. It was all so vivid, so visceral, and so mesmerizing to take in. Although I absolutely cannot deny the impact of all the other sections in the app, which only served to amplify the portrayal and bring it to life in a way that left me so thrilled to leave Ryuk in your hands. I trust you with him completely, and I pray for the New World to bear their arrival. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER.

ALIAS | Say.

AGE | 25.

PERSONAL PRONOUNS | She/Her/Hers.

ACTIVITY LEVEL | Hopefully around 6/10! I check the dash basically every day for replies, but whether I get to them or not is a completely different story 🥴 Also, given that this is a highly literate roleplay, it may take me a tad longer to craft replies and post them, but I’m confident I can meet the 8 post/month minimum that you outline in your guidelines.

TIMEZONE | EST / UTC-5.

TRIGGERS | REMOVED.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE GROUP? | A mutual of mine reblogged some of the first promo posts onto my dash. From then I’ve been following the group, and I finally got a chance to read through all of the lore / word-building you guys have done and I am super impressed.

CURRENT / PAST RP ACCOUNTS |

IN CHARACTER.

CHARACTER

Ryuk.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

I will admit that when I was first browsing, I had the worst choice paralysis because all of the biographies were compelling in their own way. The Angels and their pretentious morality, the Demons with their freewheeling madness, the Gifted toeing the line between mortal and divine, desperate to survive in a world with their powers… That being said, I kept on going back to Horsemen because of their remarkable existence across Caelum, Sanctus Terra, and Infernum. Not quite Angels or Demons, and far from mortal, I interpreted them to be the closest beings to God the world has, given that they were torn from the flesh of God Himself.

This steadfast solidarity between Viktoria, Ryuk, Nerissa, and Dmitri really hit me square in the chest. Four distinctive beasts, hungry for bloodshed, are dropped into a world already ravaged by devastation at the hands of God’s own creations — so they take solace in each other, even broken from their original purpose. And yet, even amongst these four outliers, Ryuk stood out to me even more, because of their innate understanding of the ravaged world before him. While Nerissa raged for their stolen war, while Viktoria mourned their own creation in Purgatory, while Dmitri adjusted their child-like senses to their surroundings so starkly different whence they came, Ryuk intrinsically knew of their role on this plane of existence.

I recognized the subtle intricacies woven into Ryuk’s biography, and wanted to challenge myself by writing a character whose desires, motives, and perception of the world is markedly unique from how I interpret my world. What sort of purpose could a Horseman have when stripped of their divine right and design? What do the immortals fear when they are bound with eternal life? What could Death himself fear, when they know the unknowable, and have the power to exact their purpose?

All beings, regardless of their time on earth, fear death in some way. For divine beings, it is the possibility of their destruction through their infinite life, and for mortals, it is the inevitability of it that induces fear. But what about Death himself? Is it possible that they could be terrified of it as well?

PLOTS.

DISCLAIMER: I illustrated a few points that rely on the development of other characters, most specifically the Horsemen, but it will all obviously rely on me working out the details with other players.

I. A HUNGER FOR DEATH PROMISES A STARVATION OF LIFE — a division amongst a former whole.

We begin the story with the Horsemen being a single unit, working alongside each other in relative harmony, existing as mercenaries for the highest bidder. In a world teetering on the fragile truce between the Angels, Demons, and Mortals, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse walk alone, united in their understanding that they are unlike anything else walking the holy grounds. Without each other, they have nothing — so they remain close together out of deficit rather than benefit. However, in each of the Horsemen’s biographies, you’ve outlined a faint, yet irrefutable line dividing the four. As it stands, the division relies on recognition; Ryuk has always understood Nerissa and her cause more than he sympathizes with Nerissa or Dmitri. So what if that line became a crack?

I’ve interpreted the current division to lie within the fundamental conflict of bloodlust vs. power, with Ryuk and Nerissa lying firmly in the former camp, though this would all be hammered out with the appropriate muns. But the interest lies within the Horsemen, and what would happen if their loyalties suffered an upset — who would they pledge their allegiance to?

II. MONSTERS, WE ARE NOT SO UNALIKE, YOU AND I — an unlikely understanding.

This brings me into the next plot point, which involves Ryuk’s connections to the other factions.

Within my app, I sought to base much of Ryuk on what he is not — and their antithetical existence to Cade is something I played with deeply in this application. As hungry as they are for blood, there is a distinct lack of intention behind their killing, as if they inflict death because they are a Horseman. It is why the division is so crucial for Ryuk to begin to align themselves to a cause. A trap I don’t want to fall into while writing them is not giving them a fear to hold onto. I think the fascinating part about Ryuk is that they were birthed out of God’s terror of His unknown — and that is precisely what they fear the most. They feel safe and powerful when aligned with his fellow Horsemen, but without them, what do they know?

The details of what would sweeten their attraction to any cause is something I want to keep open, rather than delineate extensively here, but the core of it is the same: to lower them down so that they may see the light in another’s faith.

III. IN MY END IS MY BEGINNING — a touch of Death.

And here, we end with a renewal of their perspective. Some sort of mortal injury happens that gives Ryuk a taste of their own medicine, perhaps in saving something they have truly learned to care about, as much as their dark heart will allow.

Given that they fear losing their power and dominion over mortals, throwing them into a situation where they are possibly injured by one is a surefire way of allowing Ryuk to face what truly lies dormant underneath: what is their purpose? And why are they here and living, despite having their purpose erased so long ago with the death of their Creator?

Perhaps this will finally give them a hunger for something more than just taking souls and money for it.

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WITH KILLING OFF THIS CHARACTER?

As long as it serves a specific purpose for the long-term prospects of the group’s plot, 100% yes.

IN DEPTH.

DRIVING CHARACTER MOTIVATION

I admit that this is the one of the parts of the application I struggled with, because for all intents and purposes, Death’s purpose has been ripped away from them. They, along with the other three Horsemen, were created for Earth’s apocalypse — but now that they’ve been thrown into the world without it, in some ways they are lost beyond comparison.

Even so, Ryuk was still built to thirst for mortal blood at their hand, and as of now, that base instinct is what they actively rely on to move through the world. They are desperate and hungry for the souls they’ve been promised by God, and nothing more.

And yet, I think they are also terrified of what it means to be stripped of their purpose. There’s this tentative resentment they hold for the world that no longer needs the Horsemen to wreak havoc, and yet, a terror that overtakes them when they think of fully relinquishing what they’ve been handed down from God. A fear of incompetence, the unknown, and the uselessness they feel is what drives Ryuk to continue to do what they’ve always known. After all, it’s easier to believe in a belief they’ve held close to their chest for so long.

CHARACTER TRAITS

( + ) RESOLUTE | Permanence: it is the one thing Ryuk knows to be true. Mortal blood expires, and nobody knows it better than the harbinger of Death himself. It is what makes them loyal, unwavering in their beliefs in their tar-black soul once he has made up their mind. ( + ) ASTUTE | It is impossible to be foolish when he has the ghosts of the past right at his fingertips; a history, laid before them like an open book. And what are first impressions, when they have the still-lingering souls to guide him along? Not much escapes their eyes or ears, and they use their gift well, for himself first, and for the Horsemen second. ( + ) VIGILANT | All that knowledge, always within reach — it would be a shame if they did not apply it well. Though he can be quick to react, it is rarely out of ineptitude or undisciplined impulse; it is precisely the wealth of information he gleans that makes them all the more wary to enter into a situation without identifying the risks first. They are adamant on victory, not by anyone else’s terms but their own. ( – ) DUPLICITOUS | He has no qualms about trickery, or resorting to underhanded means to get their way. After all, what is integrity to a being that values Death above everything else? What is honor to a Horsemen without a future, when Death is the period, the endmark to every creature with a beating, bloody heart? ( – ) RUTHLESS | When Ryuk first learns of the word mercy from the spirits’ whispers, they can barely fathom the concept. Sparing another out of the benevolence of one’s heart? It’s practically laughable, given their own penchant for cruelty when faced with their victims. He is ( – ) PASSIONLESS | And one wonders: what could make such a merciless killer unflinching in the face of their purpose? Yes, they relish in every single kill, just as much as his compatriots, but in the end, he does it because it is all he knows. One cannot mistake the devotion they show for passion, the very fire that ignites the circle of life. No, Death will not and cannot be acquainted with life, no matter how many live souls they take for themselves.

PARA SAMPLE

“But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.” — Matthew 24:36

From the beginning, at the very break of their conception at the hands of God, Ryuk is told they are the antithesis of emotion. It is an age-old story of the hero, their origin a simple blip in the vaporous, golden-god kingdom from which he is torn, cast into darkness until their path is clear — but Ryuk is not a hero. No, they are told that some day, they shall wreak havoc across the mortal realm that He has forged to collect their birthright of the damned souls roaming the earth. When? It’s insolence, a rare bit tumbling out for his Creator, He who has torn a part to make their whole.

You will know, and it is thunderous, the cadence of his voice, that even Death quivers, when the gates to the mortal realm opens. And then, they are thrown into their realm, devoid of anything but dust and half-formed souls. They know this, because the moment they’d slipped into the aphotic depths of His plan is the exact moment they hear their wails, deafening, ululating, even for their immortal senses.

And oh, did they wail. Told stories of dominions and dirt, of princes and peasants, a swarm of the dead desperate for the ear of a God — or however close they could get to such a being. Time and time again, Ryuk would swat the cloud away, gaze always focused in the distance, where the dark smoke broke into a line of halcyon shimmer, and they’d ask Him ( pray, a soul whispers ) for their birthright, their infernal kingdom of souls.

Ages pass. They hear nothing. They see nothing. The gilded line shrinks. But what is time for an immortal? Still, they hunger for the permanence of their existence; here, in this inchoate cavity of God’s creation, they are useless. The void is a steadiness of not quite death, but the absence of life — a temporary, an unhappy medium that they cannot satiate themselves on no matter how hard they strived. When? They think again, but He is long gone, in His heavens with His angels and His mortals He’d bore out of Love.

In the ages to come, they will begin to understand this. Tales brushed in human concepts, of Love and Fear and Ecstasy and Hope, of those dominions and dirt, the princes and peasants. In the ages to come, they will see that the mortals flourish, souls rising to Heaven and Hell without their touch. They will see the expanse of God’s love for His children, in fractured pieces of the half-gone souls’ shrieks, wondrous at how He could destroy something He’d built from the sands of the lands. They will ask why did the mother forbid her to marry her lover? and the souls will answer, because she loved her daughter, a babe she’d birthed for nothing in return.

“For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places.” — Matthew 24:7

And what they mean to say is — no, they do not understand. How could God, in all his love for his mortal creations, bring their deliverance, Famine and War and Conquest and Death, upon the moral planes? What is their purpose aside to destroy what He has created? To understand the world is to hold it in one’s hands and inflict upon it an inconceivable love, of which they had none in their ichor-stricken heart.

They resent God for this. They resent their purpose, and yet, they walk the earthly plains alongside their comrades, knowing that even God has succumbed — and so they hold their faith, deal their foreordained havoc in spades.

“For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty.” — Revelation 16:14

“You must have mistaken me for a being of mercy, of which I am not.” Viktoria’s nostrils flare. Ryuk’s voice is low enough that the others do not catch the impertinent remark, the subtlest of digs on what she prized most. Within visible distance, Dmitri fiddles with a mortal contraption, one of the many gifts from his beautiful admirers, and far off, in the other direction, Nerissa sharpens her blade on a slick slab of quartz, eyeing her two comrades with a watchful eye.

Among them all, fallows, burnt yellow and unseemly, spread out across either side, an end distant and impossible. In this part of land, there is nothing but rainfall and smog, untraversed by even the most seasoned of travelers, which, of course, had made it ideal for the likes of the Horsemen. Nothing but tar black clouds roamed the sky, save for the sliver of white in the horizon, a marker of Caelum to the North. The line glows, and Ryuk is briefly struck by the likeness of their environment to the emptiness from which they came. If they listen diligently enough, the winds almost mimic the agonized shrieks of undamned souls, and it completes the resemblance, far too uncanny for their liking. He shifts on his feet, left and right, and tugs on his ear. A cue, he’d learned, then committed to muscle memory, to ward away the spirits when they were not needed.

“And as always, you have failed to listen. And they say you can hear the spirits with those ears?”

It is Ryuk, this time, that prickles under the weight of the insult. Viktoria, as always, has fashioned herself as the brains of their expeditions, always pointing out their next destination. He cannot blame her; of the quad, they all know she is the weakest, but her passion for their good fate flares stronger than his own. Viktoria, always the one hungering for something more. A desire for a bite of the heavens whence they came.

To each their own, they suppose.

“I have provided all of us with good information, have I not? Saved our good health, if I remember correctly, more times than I desire to count.” Their sharp glare meets the other’s steel-bit fire, and she huffs.

“And what are your qualms of this plan? Do you plan to serve this diseased Tridium for our eternity?”

Besides him, the souls begin to howl. Cry out, they will hunt and kill you, they have weaponry, blessed by the something dark and holy, and yet, another faction beckons, they are no match for the Apocalypse, they are not as strong as you believe —

“What is it?”

They snap out of their trance. In the centuries they have known each other, they have all learned each other’s behaviors like their own kin. Like the flicker in Nerissa’s jaw when she lusts for blood, the fondness glimmering in Dmitri’s eye when he spies a mortal he desires. They’ve all seen the half-slack stupor Ryuk undergoes when he channels the voices of the dead, most of all Viktoria, but he brushes her away, throat cleared with a rumble.

“Nothing. They caution us against it.”

“And?”

The sinew in their neck tenses. “And there is nothing else. We all know that some mortals are still gifted. They hold the power to our demise as much as we for theirs.”

Viktoria scoffs. It is clear, in her stance, from her gaze, that she does not believe he is giving her the entire truth. “We will need more than that if we are to carry through with it; perhaps, they can tell us the size of their armory, or perhaps how it could be of use to us...“ Eyes averted, she begins to pace a small distance. They can already see the cogs turn in their brain, assembling their scheme for an upset of power across the lands.

“And who has agreed to carry through with this design? Dmitri?”

They look up. Viktoria, who’d been addressed; Dmitri, who’d believed they'd been summoned; Nerissa, who’d smelled the whiff of conflict. The lines, there are always the lines. Viktoria with Dmitri, himself with Nerissa. Left unsaid, but voice did not negate the fact that the line is a truth, hanging amongst them like an errant thread, impossible to sever even with the sharpest of blades. “You don’t believe we can do it?”

They stare, unflinching against her black gaze, because for all that they lack with their deadened atrophy and rot, they fill themselves with the faith that there will always be more souls to take. They do not prescribe themselves to a greater fate other than the one that has been given to them, from God, their Creator. What use do they have of power, when they had all that they required in the present?

“If we take this job, do this favor for this mortal, we will secure an ear in the ranks — a cousin of a member of the Round Table, and we can use leverage, to raise our status, to find these heavenly instruments to mine for crystallis —”

“Of which he has none, Viktoria, in case you have forgotten!”

From the corner of their eye, they see Dmitri flinch, Nerissa cease her movements to sharpen her blade. They are always like this, vying for a position that neither of them particularly desire, but ages have passed since they’ve come to terms with their uncertain fate. They’d been dropped amongst mortals and divinity alike, across barren lands and built cities, alone in their status as creatures of God, literal in every sense of the word. He had torn them, the four of them, from His own celestial body, had He not?

They are quiet again.

Mere mortals would have raged, now Ryuk knows this. It is the security of more that protects (or rather, exposes) the others to wars, seething with blood and blades, to the black certainty of hatred that infected the strength of their ranks, susceptible and raw. Their net, of course, had perished along with the annihilated remains of God’s and Lucifer’s immortal bodies. They had nobody, and would have nobody else, until the end of time.

Perhaps they all realize this, sheepish expressions flitting across their eyes, the sunken hollows of their cheeks. Jagged as they are in countenance and disposition, Ryuk has realized they have gone too far in their words. His head hangs an inch lower, shoulders hunched in sour defeat. It is all that they need for the mood to lift. Viktoria nods, and they mount their horses, in implicit agreement that they would defer the conversation for another time.

They scan the fields. It is still sunken, stinking of something burnt yet still living, sodden with the foul scent of mortal dirt. The gales have only reinforced their vigor, screeching through the vast space, washing away their bitter anguish — but the winds are just that, the earlier parallel lost, if only because they had three others by their side. They have survived the fire, and they will survive, untouched, riding their noble steeds into the winds, not separate, but as one.

#accepted #accepted: ryuk

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sonickedtrowel · 3 years

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1, 2, 4, 10, 20!!

Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Oh boy so I’m sure I must have mentioned it at some point but I won’t turn down a chance to ramble about it again: me and @regalpotato are working on a Day of the Doctor rewrite and I’m pretty psyched about it! Basically, Eight is there rather than War (although War does make an appearance!) and also River is there, because Duh, and there are other Things going on that are different from the episode/novel, but that’s spoilers and also still partially cooking in my brain, lol. It’s at 11k-ish right now but still pretty early in the story, too early to probably say what I will love most. But I’m having a ton of fun with it, especially the dialogue, and currently torturing Ten in every way I can think of. You know, lovingly torturing. For the most part.

That is the really big thing I’m excited about, but I do still have two prompts left from a couple weeks back (I didn’t forget you, anons!) and those are milling around in my head too waiting for inspiration to strike. 2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

No secret that I love writing multi-Doctor / River stories, and in fact having somewhat recently finished an 8 and 11 / River fic I will have to be on my toes to not repeat myself too much haha. But I just love getting everyone together and letting them yell at each other for a while - the best honestly - and then later we get Revealing Conversations about Feelings, as well as POV changing chapters. Not to overhype it but! I think it’s gonna be fun! Putting the rest under a cut because I am long-winded lol.

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Hmmm I’ll pick something I like from the WIP that’s all my writing - this is from Night of the Doctor with Eight and Ohila, but it’s diverged from the original script here and iirc pretty much all new dialogue for Eight. I don’t normally write this sort of Doctor speech because I’m usually doing romance, but I can hear Paul McGann righteously shouting/soliloquizing in my head so I’m pretty happy with it: *** “What would you have me do?” the Doctor hissed. “What does your broken prophecy foretell? That I become one more loyal soldier in Gallifrey’s glorious army? I can join this fight and take a thousand lives, die a thousand deaths, and this war will still go on. The universe doesn’t need another soldier!” “Not a soldier,” said the Sister, “a warrior, with the power you’ve refused to wield. You could have destroyed the Daleks before they were even created.” “Yes, I could have done. And I didn’t, because I have no right! Whatever it is you think you can turn me into, Sister, you’ll continue to be disappointed. Because there’s one person who is always needed in a war: a good doctor, willing to help whomever they can. No matter if they’re despised, or called traitor— no matter who they lose or how many times they fail! There will always be more lives to save, and I’ll be there, helping, wherever I can. I only hope I’m strong enough to carry on doing it half as well as another doctor I knew.” ***

(Yes of course we have Liv Chenka references!) 10. How would you describe your writing process? It takes me forever to get ideas, but once I have a sort of general amorphous direction for the story and an emotional starting point for the characters, I just jump in. And then I keep getting shower thoughts about more and more stuff happening and what was supposed to just be some fun fluff starts growing a plot and getting wildly out of hand and this is just my life. I am very much not in control. 20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?) Ohhhh this is such a good question! Definitely going with There is a love I reminisce because there’s a lot going on under the surface in that fic and not all of it stated super explicitly. So um, huge spoilers below if you haven’t read it!

Manhattan and Trenzalore (both times) are essentially retconned, through a combination of River’s innate abilities and Eleven going around the timeline trying to do better after being confronted with his shortcomings in TNOTD. How the Doctor survived Utah is explained and it’s not because he was in a stupid robot. It spawns an implied post-Library reunion with River, Eleven and the Doctor’s oft-referenced and never quantified or named children from Gallifrey. It implies a different resolution to the Hybrid thing and an alternate series 10. And of course it uses BF’s far-superior Ravenous 4 plot twist to preemptively annihilate the timeless children crap, and a combination of Ravenous 4 and Doom Coalition 4 to make River basically a time goddess. But maybe my favorite thing was giving life to this headcanon of mine. IT CANNOT BE REFUTED! They’ve never said ANYTHING specific about his family so it’s free real estate baby!

*** “Yes, sorry to harp on about this, honey, but I think we can discuss the regeneration semantics later,” River cut in. “You’re saying I came back from your future to your distant past and just… stayed?”

“Well… yes, I think so. There were certain things we couldn’t discuss. I had always just assumed that I’d reached the end of my last regeneration and you weren’t too pleased with that, so… You know, describing it now, it does seem very irresponsible. But I don’t recall having any complaints.”

“No, I shouldn’t think you would.” River smiled, but her mind was racing. “How would that even work? Eventually, we’d come back round to when we first met on your end, and what, I wipe myself out of your memories? Selectively, for your entire lifetime? I think you might notice a little thing like that.”

“I suppose you must have had a plan for it, but I can’t remember it now. I just remember the two of us, together through the centuries.” He smiled fondly and River felt like the ache in her chest would strangle her. “I remember our family.”

“Our what?” she cried, as the older Doctor had a sudden choking fit.

“Our family. Our children and…” Dread slowly dawned on the young Doctor’s sweet face. “Oh, please, no,” he whispered. “Don’t tell me they’re… No, this happened! It happened in both versions of my memories!” He looked to his older self, panic-stricken. “Tell me you remember!”

“You had a family,” River soothed, as Babyface stumbled over his own tongue. “It just wasn’t with me.”

“What?” he laughed incredulously. “Who else would it be?”

“Your first wife, sweetie. I’m your second. Well, the second one that counts.”

“No, that’s— I’m sorry, that’s nonsense.” He turned to the older Doctor again. “You can’t tell her, is that it? Because she hasn’t done it yet? I’m sorry, River, maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“No!” Babyface shouted, finally collecting himself. “Yes, we— I had a family, on Gallifrey, before I ever left. River wasn’t there, obviously, because that’s not how anything works!”

“Who, then?” the young Doctor demanded. “Who was your first wife?”

“I— I— she was—” He opened and closed his mouth silently, looking increasingly horrified.

“You don’t like to talk about it,” River explained. “She passed away.”

“Yes, but just between me and myself,” the young Doctor pressed on with an utter absence of tact that made it easier than ever to see this was the same man before her, “who was she? And your children, what were their names?”

River hesitated, watching as the older Doctor wrestled with himself. These were details not even she had ever asked him for. She knew the general outline, of course, and that was enough. It was a hurt so deep and so impossibly ancient, she couldn’t truly imagine how distant it must be for him now. No sense in forcing him to open that door and dwell on it again.

“I, I don’t,” he finally muttered, looking almost fearful, “I don’t talk about it. I don’t think about it.”

“You’ve forgotten them,” the young Doctor said, voice low and furious. “How could you?”

“S-Susan,” Babyface stammered, wide-eyed. “I left Gallifrey with Susan.”

A relieved smile flashed across the young Doctor’s face. “And where did you suppose she came from?”

“No, she… I don’t…” Chair legs scraped abruptly across the tile as the older Doctor bolted up from his seat, white-faced, and stumbled back from the table.

“Doctor?” River stood, her hearts racing.

His eyes met hers for a split second, the strange terror in them sending a chill through her, and then he was gone like a shot.

“Doctor!” She made to chase after him, but his younger version was still clasping her hand.

“He’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “He’s just working it out.”

“Working it out?” she repeated, too stunned to reach out and grasp for the obvious. She turned to him in a daze. He smiled, and for a fleeting moment she fancied she could see the long contentment of a life she’d never dared dream of, etched in each little line on his older, younger face.

“I told you, River.” He laid his other hand over hers, warm and steady. “It was always you.” ***

#thank you so much for these they were great questions!!#i need to like shut up though these are such long answers lollllll #amillionmillionvoices

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fallingin-like · 5 years

Text

november 8

i just had a growth spurt (took so long, my tippy toes hurt) by @tallsinspace [requested by @gluupor]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

maybe i’m biased because i like kid!fics but i loved this fic so so much. i love the way that andrew and aaron interact, both with each other and the other characters. the characterization on this was amazing and it’s such a hilarious and fun read!

i just want to start and say that i love this fic so so much. your writing style is so fluid and easy to read. there are a lot of writers where their fics are good, but something is missing and you can’t tell what it is. they don’t have weird plots or bad dialogue or anything, it’s just not the same. your writing is not like this. instead there is a sense of ease. i’m just carried along for the ride and i know it’s going to be good and it feels so comforting to know i’ll be taken care of. you inject subtle humour through tiny mannerisms of the characters and by slight word choices that don’t seem to make a difference, but just add this extra little something to your fic. and you have not as subtle humour so basically you’re just really good at writing a funny fic. i mean, even your summary is great.

bits that i really enjoyed (although i just want to insert the whole fic):

“andrew says right over aaron’s body, voice ominous. aaron yelps, sliding up against his headboard in fright.” right off the bat this is such a great intro! it really sets the tone for the fic and tells us some info. it’s funny and i like that

”’i just told you,’ andrew says, impatient at having to repeat himself. ‘nicky is planning things, and we need to counter-plan.’” this is an early example of the great characterization you have. this mini-version of andrew still has traits that canon-andrew carries, but scaled to something that makes sense for a child. the impatience, thinking ahead to prevent nicky from doing the thing, so good.

astronaut lamp! it’s a cute touch that tells us more info about what kind of child aaron is, but also what kind of guardian nicky is.

”aaron remembers. nicky invited matthew boyd from aaron’s class over and andrew gave him so much halloween candy that he had a sugar crash and threw up in the bathroom. he cried. his mom had to come get him. it was really bad.” something about this story i find so great. i like the kids version of the columbia trip, it sounds exactly like something kid!andrew would do. also the last sentence does so much to add to aaron’s voice and also seems like something a child would include in their retelling of a story. i love the short sentences.

”andrew says his teacher, mr. wymack, is also really annoying, but he gets angry at aaron whenever aaron says it too, so andrew probably likes him.” cute!! what a classic kid thing to do (and also a classic andrew thing to do)

-the whole bit that’s also included in the summary is so perfect. the overreaction to a playday. how dramatic the twins are.

”’but we’re brothers in real life,’ aaron says to the empty room.” oh my goodness i love this so much. it’s so telling of the rocky parts of their relationship that they still have to work out and it feels so sad

”she’s really smart, but whenever aaron tries to ask for help, she always goes red and starts chewing on her hair, and the conversation dies there.” CUTE!!

”he hears a squeak and then a thump as katelyn collapses on the ground” DOUBLE CUTE!! these kids are so adorable!! oh my goodness. and so dramatic i love the way you write them

i really like the idea of aaron constantly asking for passes to go to abby and andrew asking to see bee. it must be so comforting to them to have a safe place that they can retreat to during school after being alone for so long.

”unfortunately, nicky thinks mr. wymack is ‘kinda cute in a dad way’ so andrew can’t say he’s friends with kevin, or there’ll be a playdate again, and everything will go very badly for everyone” THIS IS THE BEST SENTENCE. nicky is hilarious as always and it is so funny to see the twins have such a deep understanding of everything to be fully in control. i can just imagine them, writing out baby causal loop diagrams to try and see how one action will affect other things.

andrew and aaron switching places in class with only neil and katelyn being able to tell? amazing

”he’s in my class because he hates you and wanted to get away from you. are you happy?” MY HEART BREAKS A LITTLE BIT AARON NO also i can totally imagine him saying this in his little kid voice, all pouty and annoyed.

the dilemma bit is soo cute oh my goodness

”you can copy my answers even though you’re mean and terrible and you tried to lie to me about andrew” I LOVE YOUR VERSION OF KID NEIL SO MUCH he is still the sassy boy that we all know him as and so wonderful

”besides aaron had been the real victim, because that was his candy he was saving for later” aaron is so melodramatic this is the best thing ever

ANDREW READING WIKIPEDIA ARTICLES IN THE DARK ON NICKY’S LAPTOP AS A KID IS NOW CANON I REFUSE TO BELIEVE ANYTHING ELSE (yes i know nicky and andrew didn’t know each other as children but sTILL)

”last time they came, he had found a massive picture book of outer space, and he and andrew had claimed entire galaxies for themselves, named stars after each other” this is the most precious thing i have ever read. bonding moments between the twins that are this soft are rare in the fandom but underrated because it’s so good. also i love how this matches the astronaut lamp

ANDREW RECITING SHAKESPEARE TO AARON bless these boys

”aaron had yelled his own name across the library, as stupid as that sounds now, and andrew for whatever reason, had called his own name back, to the outrage of every librarian in the main room” excuse me but this is the only way the twins can meet again, sorry i don’t make the rules. i think this is my favourite twin discovery i have read ahhHH you’re so good

”andrew doesn’t lie, but if you don’t believe him, he doesn’t talk either. nicky’s comment has guaranteed an evening’s worth of silence from andrew, which isn’t the worst thing in the world, but is counter-productive” wow this is such an andrew thing to do. he must have been taught through his life in terrible terrible homes that no matter what he says people wouldn’t believe him. it must have been so exhausting constantly being told you’re lying even if you’re not. it’s always so heartbreaking to read about these coping mechanisms he must have developed at such a young age to try and protect himself

”’he’s good at math,’ andrew finally says. ‘and he’s the fastest runner in the grade.’” ANDREW YOU’RE HAVE A CRUSH THIS IS SO CUTE

”’i was the weird kid for a while and i’m excellent.’ nobody responds to that.” NICKY OH MY GOODNESS

nicky buying andrew any lock he wanted no questions asked is the softest thing ever :”) what a perfect thing as the foundation of their relationship

andrew reciting either stories or horrible facts about pirates oh my goodness your characterization is spot on i cannot get enough of it

”andrew doesn’t smile but he does a happy kind of bounce when he sees the chocolate chips have been arranged into a frowny face” this is such an iconic line. you’re actually a legend

exCUSE ME AARON BEING THE MOST POPULAR BOY IN CLASS AND ANDREW THE MOST ATHLETIC my brain just exploded what a wonderful way to end the school year!! and then andrew saying he would rather hang out with aaron,,, i- have no words

”he thinks i need friends badly because he’s afraid i’m developmentally stunted thanks to my terrible parents” nicky’s response is perfect for this but this is the most neil thing eveR. he’s also so mature. what a kid.

wow finishing the fic with the twins making a deal that allows them to hang out/form relationships with other kids and yet means that they will reconvene at the end of the day and stick together?? amazing. i just. this is so so good.

i really like that you did this through aaron’s perspective. it adds something to the story-telling that i think is nice. i’m generally indifferent to aaron, but this fic really endeared me to him. i also appreciate that this is a fic where their relationship is as good as a relationship between twin boys can be (a little bit rough, but overall they have an understanding of each other and will work together to accomplish something).

this whole fic was fun and lighthearted, but clearly really well thought out. i think it takes a lot of talent, skill, and time to have it read in such an easy way. you paid homage to canon events/details but molded it so that it fit so perfectly into this au. this was really cute, i’m always attracted to kid!fics, i’d love to see more from this au! i think you did a good job fitting the characters into the kid version of themselves. i liked that they weren’t dumb little kids with no personalities, because kids are so hilarious and full of attitude. and, it’s really interesting to see nicky in this caregiver role (although he is also like this a little bit in canon, we just don’t get to see it work because the twins are less receptive), i like that he’s doing his best and it’s actually working. for once, the twins have a safe and welcoming home where they can be supported to be who they are and have someone who will protect them.

this was such a delightful read, i loved it when i first read it, and i loved it again while i was rereading to write this. you did such a good job with the characters, the dialogue, the humour. i really can’t describe how much i enjoyed this. thank you so much!!!

#i just had a growth spurt (took so long my tippy toes hurt)#aftg fic review #raelle writes

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theothercourse · 5 years

Note

40 QUESTIONS — MEME FOR FIC WRITERS - 7, 8, 9,10, 15, 17, 19, 20, 35, 38. Again, a lot, I'm sorry, but I love when you tell us more about your writing! And happy new year, sweetie!! Hope it's full of love, peace and wonderful things for you and your loved ones! Love you! .Maizie

I love that you asked, and I certainly don’t mind answering many.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This is from The Best Intentions, the RP romance between Ansgar Martinsson and Joline Lindberg. I wrote for Joline and loved this part:

Joline hiked up on her booted toes to erase the last bit of distance between them, wanting for be consumed by the torrential heat blazing off of him. The tangle of tongues sent the sweetest torture of sensation straight to her core, her body heavy with need. One of his hands dug into her hair to hold her captive against his mouth, the other pressed into the small of her back, tipping her hips against his. Dull fingernails scraped along his scalp when she took hold of his curls.

Lust played an undeniable force around them like gravity held them to the Earth’s surface. Slaves to it, but masters of it within their sphere of two. Their friendly jogger, his sights on Ansgar, now making his fifth lap past them, cut his losses and kept going to beat off his own arousal at the picture the two made, a smash of leather, denim and desire.

Ansgar was the one to end the meld of lips and teeth and tongues, regrettably. He knew that if they went on as they were he’d tear her clothes from her body and take her right on the spot, the wandering curious gazes be damned.

Joline herself felt ready to jump into her arms, coil her long legs around him and search out the closest surface to fuck against. He tasted of coffee, sex, danger and she already felt the addictive streams pouring through her body, her pores itching for his fingers and mouth as a balm.

His breath panted against her lips, swollen and pink from the pressure of their passionate kiss and the burn of his goatee. But—Fuck! She was a vision! His influence on her for all to see, he was almost… enchanted by it. He dragged his thumb across her lip, “You’re delicious. I simply cannot wait to taste what other flavors you’re hiding.”

Joline kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the bursts of heated breath spreading over her abused lips and the vibrations from his lips to hers. “God-fucking-damn it, Martinsson!” Only her voice had dropped to a seductive purr instead of the angry tones from moments ago.

He dropped his mouth to her ear, his tongue rasped at the fleshy lobe just once before her murmured, “Search out other art on your skin.”

The five ink decorated skin spots hidden beneath her clothes tingled, sending out a honing signal for him to lock in on. Joline pried her eyes open as he lifted his face to peer into hers. The brassed off woman had been somewhat tamed by temptation, he could see it in the flush of arousal and the relaxed scowl. “If this is what ‘intrigued’gets me, I’m fucked if I ever pique your interest,” she quipped in a delayed response to his comment that led to the heated argument and equally as heated kiss.

The pride and arrogance displayed on him in the forming of a Cheshire grin. “You’re fucked either way, as soon as I get you alone,” he replied confidently.

There’s just so much of their dynamic wrapped up in this part. I really loved writing for Joline, and writing with a partner. I always felt that writing with my partner made me better. My partner is infinitely talented, and I was lucky to have the opportunity to work with them twice! Really lucky.

Joline stretched me as a writer. She was rough with harder edges than any of the other female characters I’ve created. She had to be to be a match for Ansgar. They loved each other fiercely, and fought just as much. Some of my best writing came out of doing that RP.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Here’s a small snippet of Chocolate that followed after The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth:

“Are you waiting for him, turtledove? Are you waiting for Tom? He told you not to.”

Avoiding Terry’s gaze, I zeroed in on the steam rising over the rim of the wide width of the cup, considering his question seriously, weighing up how much of my reluctance was hung up on the man that left me behind. I didn’t blame Tom in the slightest. He was chasing his dream in Los Angeles as I was in New York City. Our careers were important and set in motion before we met each other. Although we fell in love, we couldn’t be together. Noble Tom set me free to date and possibly find another love, insisting that I shouldn’t wait for him until he could come back for me.

Our six month separation became ten with one phone call. Tom and I spoke only that once since he left, only to tell me that his career path was leading him back to England, and he couldn’t come back for me or the Hiddleston family watch that he gave me. There was no true end in sight for our separation.

“Button?”

Blinking repeatedly, I leveled my eyes on Terry’s concerned puppy dog expression. I cleared my throat and huffed a small laugh to cove my pause, reveling in the memory of Tom and I in our one week together. “I’m trying, Terr. I’m trying to not wait for him. But my heart… my heart isn’t in dating. Tom took it with him when he left,” I said honestly, picking at the chocolate donut, the very thing Terry was sugaring me up with.

“Have you talked to him?”

“Not since the Spielberg call, seven weeks, three days and sixteen hours ago.”

Terry said, sarcastically, “Excellent! I was worried you were counting.”

With a rueful shrug, I confessed, “I can’t help that, babe. All he left me with was time and a way to measure it.”

Mainly, I love what Kristiane says. It was so fortuitous that Tom gave Kristiane his watch at the end of The Course. I had originally wanted it to be some kind of trinket that Tom found along his theatre journeys that he kept for good luck, that he would eventually give to Kristiane as a hopeful ending to the story. I then thought it would be a piece of jewlery like... a broach or necklace. I’m grateful that it was a watch and I could use that line. It’s so... sad and hopeful at the same time. It’s romantic.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

I answered this one in the previous ask.

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

I’ll go with The Best Intentions. It was always the easiest and most inspiring to write with a partner, someone to bounce ideas off of, plot with, get ideas from, and generally to get feedback and support from. I did the most writing I’ve ever done with a partner.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Answered in the previous ask

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Definitely, definitely out of order. That’s exactly why Down with Love and How the Other Half Lives have been so problematic. Piecing things back together is a bitch.

19. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

Yep!

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Summer day, late breeze, my balcony, sun bright, Broadway tunes, nowhere else to go... no time constraints, no distractions. A bottomless glass of ice tea and pink starbursts. My London themed notebook and my purple ink pen (Uni Ball Signo, medium, purple ink).

35. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know if I could ever go through with it. I’m too emotionally connected to my characters to do it. I thought about it for the Best Intentions and Down with Love. I won’t reveal who or why or what it would do for the narrative and trajectory of the story.

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

All of them. Seriously. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. Any response to something I’ve written makes my entire day. I realize how much social anxiety and fear that goes into putting yourself out there, as a writer and as a reader. Any message or question that I get means so much to me.

Thank you, Maizie. You’ve been an amazing support for me, even while I’ve been so stuck. I appreciate it.

#the course answered #maizie #ask me things #writer meme #Anonymous

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kaorei-endgame · 6 years

Note

Ranking of Resident Evil save room themes?

I got my first latte of the season, it’s chilly enough to wear pants indoors, #Streamtober started yesterday. LET’S DO THIS, NICK. >:O

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17. Resident Evil 6 Chapter Ends, All Characters: Back to the cabbage patch. None of you are valid, with your Netflix Original knock-off of some ABC knock-off of 24-ass soundtrack. Go suck a giraffe’s dick with an Ada clone, Jake Muller.

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16. Resident Evil, Deadly Silence: What is this Resident Evil for Babiez? Nintendogz+ResidentEvilz? Imagine listening to this on the crappy DS speakers. Wasn’t there something creepy about Jill’s costume in this game, like you could tear pieces of it off, or am I just conjuring fall memories and combining them with how they went out of the way to add boob bounce to the REmake 15 years after the fact, and now Jill’s boobs on PS4 undulate languidly beneath her shirt like a pair of Dragon Quest Slimes yearning to be free. This track: aural despair, unleavened. A way to quickly induce nausea in dogs who have eaten chocolate or raisins.

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15. Resident Evil 6, Ada Chapter End: Well, okay, this one is all right. The first fifteen seconds feel like a HiFi version of a track from those Playstation 1 top-down shooters where you played a murder clown or a pyro guy escaping a space prison where you were held for crimes you definitely DID commit. The little background jog kicks in soon after and look, I’m a soft sell for ululation, what can I say.** But it just all just serves to stir memories like embers finally gone to smolder beneath the fireplace ash, stoking them after all these years, reminding me what a weird psycho they turned Ada into in this game. I like reflecting on how people got so mad about there not being co-op in Ada’s campaign that Capcom patched in a partner but his name is like “TeamMate” or “Buddy” and he has no lines of dialogue and is never addressed in the story in any way and thus is either a figment of Ada’s imagination or he’s a real dude who’s just pretty quiet and ultimately drowned on that sub? Well, I guess life’s tough if you’re the (potentially imagination) friend of an ex-spy turned pod person.

**(i contacted my musician friend, Kylie, who confirmed that ululation was the term i was thinking of, lest i second guess myself. at the same time, i’ll post her text here lest i misrepresent her words “Yeah, ululate as a technical term is vibrato using the tongue, so that would be wrong, but ululate as a descriptor refers to a sound that has a very pronounced waver between tones to it.” cool! i’ve often wondered if that’s the most accurate way to describe it. thanks Kylie!! :D)

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14. Resident Evil Revelations 2: Claire gets the best costumes probably across the whole series and yet it feels like she’s gotten the least love of all the main cast. I never really got it, she looks good in denim, whether jacket or pant, and her Revelations 2 blazer does her all the favors. But now they’re remaking RE2 and they turned her face into this weird porcelain Precious Moments dol—MY BELOVED DAUGHTER. MY MOIRA. I SWEAR I’LL FIND YOU. FOR THE SAKE OF JBLL I WILL AVENGE YOU AND THE OTHER ONE.

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13. Resident Evil 0: What’s with all the shivery whiney stuff. Like your younger sibling running nails down the chalkboard of your spine, like how the speed run of this game hinges on juggling an evasive bat with 5 out of the 6 flame rounds on hand, so try. Neither relaxing nor scary. Do I hear something like a bongo in the distance? That is the clarion call of Becky Chamber’s goose booty coming home to roost.

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12. Resident Evil 7: I had a dream last night about this game. If you have phobias about glass and/or mouths and/or wasp genitals, I would skip this paragraph. I was in the house where you have to run away from the mom with the disgusting wasp hive vagina. Also—unrelated and yet somehow related, as dreams always are—I had opened a beer bottle in such a way that the stem broke. I had decided to drink it anyway and now, as I progressed through the house, I found that there seemed to be endless small slivers of glass in my mouth that I had to repeatedly spit out lest they cut me. When I woke up, my jaw was clenched to the point of soreness. Welcome to the family, I guess. Otherwise this save room music reminds me of the game itself: mostly dull and barely there.

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11. Resident Evil Revelations: Item Box Music, only Save Room Adjcanet. Can’t disassociate this from the “swish-swish-swish-SHUCK” sound effects of navigating menus to equip Charge Shot 2 to my Shotgun. Not as pleasing or as integrated into my bone marrow as the Resident Evil 3 equivalent, but I have probably played this game through thirteen or fourteen times at this point. Life is short and yet the strings of fate tug us the directions they will.

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10. Resident Evil 5: Again, this is menu music. No save rooms at all in this game. Anyway I have no inherent memory of this song because I’m sure I’ve talked over it while upgrading my M92FS to 100 bullet capacity 110% of the times I’ve played this game. Exempted from higher echelon of rankings on these technicalities, but still A POOR PERFORMANCE INDEED for Not The Best Resident Evil Yet Paradoxically The One That’s Given Me The Most Joy In My life.

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9. Resident Evil, Dead Aim

: Wow I almost can’t believe I don’t remember this despite playing this game enough to write a speedrun guide for it. Well, that was the style at the time. As was a bloated zombie corpse boss, I suppose (long before Left 4 Dead, those copy cats), whose weak spot was its exposed brain which, halfway through the fight when you’d done enough damage, would pop out and dance a sprightly jig on its brainstem every time you shot it. With the whisper of wind and rain and single intermittent synth I feel like I’m living in a cyberpunk future and not a game whose protagonist’s “””cajun””” accent is as questionable as its presentation of the antagonist’s gender.

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8. Resident Evil, Umbrella Chronicles

: Hey now, weird bit of the creepy-freaky bass here kind of does put you in a certain headspace, but it’s not the headspace i remember of this game, which was basically unplayable in co-op for the final 3rd because a failed QTE would result in a hunter slicing away half your health. Good for an Into the Breach playlist to keep you focused on the action and stop you from trying to play it while also binging a Netflix show about werewolves that you didn’t really like anyway, and splitting your attention between visual mediums is just getting Good Pilots Killed.

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7. Resident Evil 2: Ominous. Maybe TOO Ominous at points. Aren’t save rooms about being safe? I guess we could argue that because the save room reflects the lacuna of safety BING BONG piano is the Try Hard version of video game music asking “you scurred yet?” Perhaps a novice mistake from a first-time director who would go on to do so many great things (well, RE2 among them, no lie). In a way, this fits with Rookie Cop Leon S. Kennedy, and anyway it’s so over the top I’m kind of okay with it. Most innervating when first heard on your way to equip a cowgirl costume for fast-firing six-shooter action. Guns suck, and cowboys too, but both are okay if we experience them in the abstract sense. This is what culture teaches us. Fan the trigger.

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6. Resident Evil 4: A surprisingly gentle one, considering the series turn towards action from which it would never recover. I am transported to the early minutes of a horror movie where the audience knows something the protagonist doesn’t about the terror that’s about to befall them while they blithely pick up a desiccated nudie mag in an old shed on a haunted property they inherited from their estranged uncle, more focused on the “ballistics” before them than the axe murderer crouched in the shadows of disused farm equipment behind.

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5. Resident Evil 3, Nemesis: More languid riff on 2. Strings get you shivery, and no more than a single BONG per two measures proves that save room music is as much about the notes you DON’T play. Two bongs to scare, but one bong to keep you on your toes, disallowing you from getting *too* relaxed by the soothing bleeps and bloops as you combine the 3 Gunpowder As you just found to make sure you have enough ammo to pistol-juke the so-called unkillable Nemesis. You’re not coward, but that doesn’t make you brave. Discretion is the better part of valor, they say, but that’s not taking into account that non-discretiony valor rewards you directly with a faster-firing pistol with critical headshots. :3

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4. Resident Evil 1, Vanilla: Gentle, plucky strings make you question your memory, more familiar with later revisions than you are this one. How often was I in this place? Or does its primacy belie its immediacy? If I went to the strange, pointless closet around the corner from this medicine save room, would I find a broken shotgun I expect there, a round of magnum ammo, or simply the ghost of discarded aspirations masking as memories. I recall a time when it felt like time was enough, but then again, this was back when anything sub-three hours would get you the infinite rocket launcher, regardless of how many First Aid Sprays you used.

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3. Resident Evil 1, REmake: High fidelity version of RE1’s gentle strings remind you of simpler times when your worst fears were zombies resurrecting into scarier, faster zombies with claws. What we wouldn’t give to go back to those days, and maybe tell ourselves not to take out so much student debt. Listening to this sends a pulse of gentle energy through my shoulder blades that makes me think “relaxation,” though I’m not sure my body understands the meaning of the word. A respite in trying eras, there is no association with the tension of shaving 15 minutes off your time to be competitive. “Safe Heaven,” they call it; a theme for a place that is not our own, but should be.

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2. Resident Evil 1, Director’s Cut: Wow I did not expect music box chimes and tones stirs something ancestral in my blood. I’ve played the Director’s Cut far more times than the original RE1 and this is like coming home to a big house where I enjoyed an idyllic childhood, but I now know every box is filled with the creepy knife doll from Onimusha. Though these senations are foreign to me, something about them inspires a thirst for a homeland I never knew.

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1. Resident Evil Code Veronica: The absolute chillest. In life, paths may wind, but the ultimate The strings are tickling your spine. You’re so relaxed you feel like oiling your ponytail, and you could even take a nap in Steve Burnside’s arms without reflexively gagging. When you hear this, you are at peace, and the world seems like a place that can be kind. Truly, the Code is Veronica.

and don’t forget to vote in our poll on whether or not we’re playing Claire A or Leon A tonight!

#resident evil #save rooms #survival horror

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animalslifestyle · 3 years

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The Devil is among a group of people trapped in an elevator!!!

The film ‘Devil’ is a smart and scary tale about good, evil, fate, and religion. It also implies that M. Night Shyamalan’s primary ability has always been imaginative narrative rather than actual filmmaking.

If you’ve gone to a movie theater in the last few months, you’ve probably seen people’s reactions to the Devil’ trailer: they sit silently fascinated until the phrase “From the imagination of M. Night Shyamalan” appears on the screen. That’s when the applause and/or boos start.

It should be noted, however, that Shyamalan’s participation with Devil is limited to writing the story for the picture and guiding it as the first chapter in his ongoing trilogy, The Night Chronicles. And believe me when I say that having Shyamalan at a remove makes all the difference in the world. The Devil isn’t the best ghost story ever told, but it’s a lot more fun than you may think.

The concept is typical Shyamalan: on a stormy day in Philadelphia, five individuals visit a high-rise office building downtown (for varied reasons) and happen to board the same elevator. While the building’s employees and several officers try to get the stranded passengers out of the elevator car, the passengers begin to experience bizarre and fatal happenings that pit them against one another.

People look at that simple concept — set in a single location, no less — and the odds of Devil having the creative energy to sustain itself for 80 minutes begin to collapse fast in their thoughts. However, I am here to tell you that this is a common mistake (one I was guilty of myself): Devil plays it smart by making effective use of time, perspective, and, most importantly, plot, which would have been a terrible catastrophe to carry off in a respectable way. In classic Shyamalan fashion, there are certain plot twists tossed in for good measure, some of which you will definitely see coming, while others you may not.

Let’s start with pace. Taking into account the time it takes to set up and put things down, the real screen time spent in the elevator is about 50–60 minutes. The events unfold in real time, which benefits the picture by keeping things tight and urgent, and it helps the actors involved to infuse their performances with high-octane intensity since their characters are naturally caught up in the terrifying moment.

The film is also clever in how it employs the “single-setting” format, which is a deceptive term. The screen time is mostly divided between the elevator and the events taking on outside of the elevator, including the security officers and cops attempting to rescue the trapped people.

In reality, the majority of the film’s plot revolves around what happens outside the elevator, with the elevator itself serving as the necessary trigger. Brian Nelson (30 Days of Night, Hard Candy) is the screenwriter who fleshed out M. Night’s plot, and he smartly keeps the dialogue between the passengers within the box snappy while keeping viewers focused with movement and physical action carried out by the actors on the outside.

This tight control of time and space keeps us engaged (searching for that hint that will unveil the enigma), but also prevents us from being too bogged down or bored. Perspective was also well managed. Director John Erick Dowdle (Quarantine) frequently shifts between the individuals within and outside the box, keeping us aware, intrigued, and on our toes.

Dowdle employs clever camera angles within the elevator, gently moving around from the center of the box, capturing each passenger alone in the frame for a brief period, allowing the actors’ responses to hint at what they’re hiding, or what we should be wary of. The elevator feels like an enclosed and unavoidable death level, which heightens the suspense. Lighting is also used wisely — after all, it’s difficult to determine who a murderer is when the killer exclusively strikes in the dark; sound is also used well in those “dark times.” Bottom line: an elevator murder mystery is a premise that might easily go off the tracks, yet filmmakers manage to keep the train on track all the way to the station.

The actors are mostly “seen them someplace” faces that you might not know by name. The five passengers stuck in the elevator are played by Bokeem Woodbine (Black Dynamite), Logan Marshall-Green (Dark Blue), Jenny O’Hara (Mystic River), Bojana Novakovic (Edge of Darkness), and Geoffrey Arend (500 Days of Summer), and they all work nicely together.

It also helps that each of the five performers is brilliant; just when you think you’ve figured out which one is the one, another actor will give you cause to rethink. They do a fantastic job of maintaining the strong sense of five individuals who are terrified as heck (no pun intended) but not scared out of their wits. You’ll have to see the movie to understand what I mean.

The people working outside the elevator are also recognizable faces with names you might not recognize. Jacob Vargas (Traffic, Death Race) excels as the one religious security guard. Vargas’ job is to provide all of the goofy supernatural/religious exposition necessary by the tale, and the actor smartly handles his character with enough sarcasm to guide us through those silly portions with chuckles rather than moans.

Matt Craven (Public Enemies) portrays the straight guy to Vargas’ comedic character, a second security officer who believes his partner’s religious warnings are nonsense and isn’t afraid to tell him so. Chris Messina (Greenberg, Julie & Julia) plays Detective Bowden, a police officer who is called to the scene and quickly finds himself in the middle of something he never imagined.

I previously stated that the plot is also one part of the Devil that was handled properly, and this is correct. It’s difficult to describe without giving away any spoilers, but I will say this: there is a plot at work here with a distinct arch and goal, and it goes beyond what the original “whodunit” concept indicates.

What Shyamalan has created seems more like his Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, and Signs days than the controversial later part of his work portfolio. Devil reminds me of a period when M. Night was more interested in telling interesting stories that defied genre norms than in novels that functioned as thin veils for his preachy or egotistical lectures.

Working with other talented filmmakers and writers clearly relieves some of the pressure and gives Shyamalan the space and freedom to do what he does best: tell clever and moving stories that chill, thrill, and keep us guessing, and while Devil isn’t the greatest movie ever, it certainly achieves those things.

As you might expect from the title, religion plays a significant role in the plot, presenting the picture as a type of morality tale. It’s a bit surprising that the film wasn’t marketed as a Christian drama a la God’s Not Dead. Fortunately, the film does not portray religion as the best thing since sliced bread, instead of employing faith in a higher force to make the five imprisoned humans effectively atone for their crimes.

As a result, it’s a shame that the characters aren’t as thoroughly developed as they could have been. With the exception of Messina’s Bowden, most of the other characters are fairly poorly drawn, living solely to die or to vomit out a sickening quantity of exposition.

Though its structure and dialogue might have been improved, Devil isn’t Shyamalan’s worst effort. In reality, the multiple stressful sequences, along with superb camera work, make for a surprisingly enjoyable film.

Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIUvYQqHaJulahGrU942ONQ

Playlist:

Sexy Love: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIUvYQqHaJulahGrU942ONQ

Horror: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLru4FE1-1keyyqd1rYJnlwpqE8ysUn2uv

#film #movie #films #devil

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bookinfested · 6 years

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Book Review: The Haunting of Hill House

Synopsis:

Dr. Montague, wanting to study the supposed supernatural qualities of the legendary Hill House, invites three younger people to join him at the house for the entire summer. There’s Luke, who is heir to the estate, Theodora who supposedly has some mild psychic ability, and Eleanor who apparently has experienced ghosts before. During their first week there, the four of them experience strange phenomena in the house and learn of its morbid history, all while Eleanor slowly succumbs to the influence of Hill House.

General thoughts

Positives:

While sometimes confusing, the dialogue in this book is strikingly realistic with characters cutting each other off, jumping in to finish one-another’s sentences, and speaking odd phrases in the middle of deep thought. It definitely makes the characters strangely real. Also, the events of the book supposedly take place all in just over the course of a week but the book does a good job of warping the time slightly so that it feels as though it’s been much longer. It feels much more realistic in that sense, since people’s moods fluctuate dramatically over the course of the day depending on its events. This also puts both reader and characters in odd positions since these people become fast friends but it feels more jarring when both realize that these people have only known each other for a few days. Also, this book doesn’t fall into the trope that a lot of modern horror falls into where evil entities will just mess with people for weeks on end before suddenly going all out. (Note: there is something similar to this with the doors closing too much, but it actually makes much more sense that the doors just close on their own since they’re often described as being very heavy and the angles of the house are odd, so I don’t count this as “paranormal instigation.”) This makes it so that when the characters are talking about the house being haunted, it’s mostly just in fun – much like how kids might be excited about a Halloween haunted house. That way, when the real frights do start happening, the characters are understandably hysterical because there’s no real former warning aside from superstition.

Negatives:

I have a really hard time understanding why this book is listed as one of the top 10 horror novels. While it does have some genuinely scary moments, it’s overshadowed by the massive amount of vague writing that goes on in the book. Half of the time, between the ambiguous writing style in some places, how many times people wake up from nightmares, and very, very odd and quick transitions, I found that I wasn’t entirely sure what just happened or if what I thought happened actually happened or if it was just a case of a wild daydream. Also, I take some issue with the characters of this book. Dr. Montague is nice enough and seems genuine in his desire to approach Hill House from a scientific mindset, but the three others there are so childish, despite at least one of them being in their thirties, that the author herself repeatedly makes a point of calling them children, or having the doctor chiding them as though they are just that. They roll around in the grass, walk hand-in-hand everywhere, get petty over really stupid, extremely vague, and very pointless romantic subplots, talk about dressing each other up like dolls, and spend entire evening discussions going over fantastically romantic and fanciful daydreams wherein they’re princesses, knights, or some other nonsense. This went on so much that it felt like whiplash when one of the women admits to being thirty-two years old after one such episode. Also, there’s incredible inconsistency in the characters. Eleanor is described at first as being this drab lady who almost never wears color because she spent the last several years caring for her mother, but then in the next several pages devoted to her she steals her sister’s car and spends a long road trip having these wild fantasies in her head about being some runaway princess and having a cup full of stars or hiding away in a little hovel by the road. Characters go from basically being bosom friends to being sworn enemies inside of a handful of pages and then flip flop back.

Also, it took more than half of the book for anything legitimately interesting to happen, so by the time the scary stuff – which was actually quite fascinating and frightening – actually happens, it’s hard to be scared because the book spent so much time waiting for it to happen that it just sort of came out of nowhere and felt muted. This was exacerbated by how vague some of the writing was, making transitions feel particularly choppy, especially when one is put right next to a scene where the writing makes it unclear whether a scene actually happened or what precisely did happen in said scene. On top of this, there’s so much in this book that goes unanswered. There’s a way to leave things enjoyably ambiguous, but in this story there were so many things started and never later explained or expounded upon that when it ended when it did, I found myself more frustrated that I don’t actually have any clue as to what happened, making it hard for me to enjoy a surprisingly very interesting ending.

Closing Thoughts:

All in all, the book isn’t awful. It has some very good lines, some excellent parts, and when it horrors, it horrors very well. It’s interesting in that it focuses more on the people than it does the supernatural in the end, which I think is both one of its best and worst qualities for this type of story. However, its writing style and multiple plot points are left so vague and open-ended that at times it becomes more frustrating than intriguing. On the whole, I’d say it’s a “middle of the road” level novel and fairly easy to read. It’s also something I would consider a good introduction to horror without being too legitimately frightening.

Rating: 3/5

I would recommend this to: people looking for a quick and relatively enjoyable read, like stories with a high level of ambiguity, or those wanting to dip their toes into horror.

#book review #the haunting of hill house #shirley jackson #horror books #review #reading

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raendown · 7 years

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Kakashi, after becoming hokage, discovers that an erotic novel infamous for its beautiful and salacious sex scenes that is considered a work of art and one of the kinkiest things ever put to pen (and that is practically Kakashi's bible)? Written anonymously by Tobirama Senju. He needed to get out all that sexual tension with Madara in some constructive way. (Madara read it years later after a Zetsu found it. He found the style familiar, but dismissed the thought. When Obito found it...well.)

I absolutely had to write a little something for this. It was too good of an idea to pass up even if angst without a happy ending isn’t my favorite jam.

Also posted to AO3 under the title Subtext.

Read it there or under the cut!

Subtext

iii.

“Kakashi, how could you!?” The voice which hailed him frombeneath the tree was all too easy to ignore. He’d been ignoring Gai since theywere children so it was almost second nature to simply turn another page andkeep reading.

“Hm,” was all he said.

“Unbelievable.” Gai shook a fist at him from below. “On aday as gorgeous and youthful as this you’re doing nothing but sitting in a treeand reading a book? How can you be so uninspired? Come, my rival! Let us see whichof us came do twenty five laps around the village the fastest!”

Holding the book just a little closer with one hand, Kakashiwaved the other languidly. “Maa…”

Gai steamed and shouted but Kakashi barely heard him, tooengrossed with the heart-rending world unfolding in the pages before him.

For all the ‘romance’ novels he read, Kakashi considered himselfsomewhat of a connoisseur. He’d been a fan of Jiraiya’s works not just for the smutbut for the way the reader felt pulled in to an entirely different world, theway the pages breathed such life in to the characters. But this…he barely hadwords for this.

He could hardly believe he’d never read it before! The originalpublication date was so old he was almost surprised there had been enoughpeople back then who unlaced their corsets long enough to enjoy this sort ofthing. Apparently it was so popular it was being reprinted for its 100th yearanniversary and while he found that mind-bogglingly incredible he was alsosupremely disappointed in himself for not discovering it sooner.

The characters were dynamic, flawed and so realistic he couldpractically picture them sitting across from himself. The settings weredescribed in gorgeous detail, putting him in mind of Fire Country’s forests.The dialogue was spot on and the writing style reserved yet so full of passion.The plot had taken him on an emotional roller coaster the likes of which he hadnever known.

And the smut! The sex scenes were out of this world, thesteamiest he had ever read. They even surpassed Jiraiya’s work - and that wassomething Kakashi hadn’t thought was possible. He could nearly taste the rawhunger of the characters, could almost feel every touch and every gasp.

Kakashi wasn’t sure how long Gai stayed around to grumble andmoan; this was already his third read through and he still couldn’t put itdown. Whoever wrote this, he hoped they were resting easy in the afterlife.They deserved it for gifting this masterpiece to the world.

ii.

The Zetsu had brought it to him. Madara was fairly sure theZetsu didn’t even look at the contents of the box, just saw that it was full ofbooks and brought it here under his command to find him something to break upthe boredom. Being tethered to an underground cave had its downsides afterall.

He was grateful, when he pulled out the first book, that the Zetsucouldn’t read. Despite being his creations they were also cheeky littlebuggers, not hesitant to offer opinions to each other from the corners of theirmouths and certainly not afraid to ask embarrassing questions. They definitelywould have had comments and questions both about the book he was readingnow.

Never in all his life had Madara thought he would find himselfburied underground, attached to the remnants of the God Tree itself, survivingoff of Hashirama’s spliced cells, and reading porn. Or erotica. Romance? Whatever word used didn’tmatter, he was still reading a book about two men having sex with each other.

In all honestly Madara wasn’t even sure why he was reading it.He’d never been with a man before. Certainly he’d had the same fleeting thoughtthat many others had, a curiosity about what it might be like, though he’dnever found himself in a position to sate that curiosity. Truthfully, sexhadn’t been a large part of his life. He had bigger problems to solve thanwhich woman he could convince to tumble in to his bed for a night or how to getrid of them afterwards. Obviously he’d never been the type for an actualrelationship and one night stands seemed a lot of work when he could usually takecare of the urges on his own.

So why, then, did this novel in his hands speak to him so? Hecould barely lift his eyes from the pages, enthralled with the story to thepoint where he almost forgot the world around him. There was something socompelling about the two main characters; he felt almost as though he knewthem, could predict their every word, and yet each new line came as a grippingsurprise. The writing style seemed almost familiar, like he might have knownthe author, but Madara could not for the life of him think who it might have been.

Who would he have known that would write such filth? Hashiramamight have been so shameless but Hashirama had certainly never had a way withwords like this.

Checking to make sure the single Zetsu in the cavern with himwas otherwise occupied, Madara settled back more comfortably in to histhrone-like chair and raised the book up higher. The two main characters were inthe midst of a heated debate about the hatred between their clans and hecouldn’t wait to see how it went. Each time they engaged in heated argumentslike this the two men inevitably were overcome with their lust, coming togetherlike fire and water in an explosion of steam and passion.

Whoever wrote this obviously had some fairly good experience tobase it off of. It was nearly enough to make Madara regret that he hadn’tindulged in the act more himself while he’d had the chance. Nearly.

Setting down his brush after writing the final words of hislatest novel should have been a motion done with triumph, accomplishment, evenrelief. Instead it was done with a heavy heart in a room filled with nothingbut stifling silence.

Tobirama drew a slow breath in, letting it back out through hisnose as he made sure the ink was dry before closing the manuscript. It wascompleted. He could hardly believe he’d actually done it once let alone severaltimes now. This would make his fourth novel and the final in its series.

And for what? To relieve the frustration of a desire he knew heshouldn’t have and would never be fulfilled? If he were anyone else he wouldcall himself stupid. He and Madara were enemies - would never be anything else- and he knew that very well. Yet still he could not rid himself of thesesinful thoughts whenever the man was near, whenever they stood toe to toe andscreamed at each other over whatever that day’s argument was about. Theunwanted lust had become nearly unbearable until finally he found an outlet -writing.

He didn’t publish them under his own name of course. He wassurprised they were allowed to be published at all, really, considering thegraphic content he had written. Every terrible, dirty act he had ever wanted topartake in with the one man who would never deign to so much as touch him wascontained within those pages, every dark fantasy and impossible dream writtendown in black and white for anyone to see.

Drawing his hands down his face, Tobirama sat back in his chair,keeping his eyes closed and letting his mind drift away. Things had beenchanging recently. There was a dark feeling in the village these days and, nomatter how his brother closed his eyes to it, even Hashirama had to see itssource. It was only a matter of time before things came to a head in some way.The newly christened village of Konohagakure would be naming a leader soon andTobirama had a fair idea of who that leader would be - as well as how poorlyMadara’s was going to take it. How he reacted to the news remained to beseen.

There were times when Tobirama allowed himself to look back andtry to pick out the moments of his life he would have changed, things he wouldhave done differently, and try to guess how those choices would have impactedhis life today. If he had not killed Izuna would peace still have been made?Could he and Madara have found common ground and not tainted each conversationwith such festering hatred?

Would he have shared these dark fantasies that dogged Tobiramaeach and every night?

Sighing, he dropped his hands and rested them upon his freshlycompleted manuscript. Today, he decided, was not a day for introspection. Nouse wondering about what ifs when he had his hands full with the here and now.So instead he gathered his papers and stood to find a package in which to mailthem to his publisher. At least his misery was turning some sort of profit.Honestly he’d thought himself a little depraved for even thinking of half thethings in these books but they were selling far better than he ever could haveimagined.

He only hoped neither Hashirama nor Madara ever got their handson a copy. Surely it would be all too obvious who the main characters weremodeled after.

#replies #rae writes #madatobi #kakashi #gai #madara #tobirama #fanfiction #naruto shippuden

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totalconway · 4 years

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The Right Kinda Fat Shit

A bit of water went under the bridge between acting in ‘The Unsung Docker’ and my next acting job. In that time I got to open for some big name comedians including Steve-O from Jackass, Doug Stanhope, and Donell Rawlings from Chapelle show.

In that same time I was awarded the ‘Fuck off to Melbourne Award’ at the annual Doustie Awards (The Perth Comedy Scene Awards) but I had already set my sights on a move to Sydney to pursue my comedy dream a little less then 2 years into starting stand up.

So after I packed my things and left my job I headed for the big city lights of Sydney. I had only been to Sydney a handful of times prior to moving there, once to see Danny Green vs Anthony Mundine, the second was to see Jay and Silent Bob Live after their Perth show sold out and the third time was to perform at the Sydney Comedy Store to perform at their Christmas show. It was a huge honour for me so early in my comedy career to be invited to perform at the Sydney Comedy Store as it is arguably the best comedy club in Australia. It felt like I was being presented with a black belt for an art form I was still wrapping my head around. My decision to move to Sydney was made easier by the fact that one of my best mates was heading over as well and we agreed to rent together in the inner west suburb of Petersham.

After working for 10 years on the Docks, manual labor jobs was something I was trying to avoid at all costs so I applied for some weird jobs. Some jobs I didn’t even realise were a thing including a job making sales commission on selling Paralympic Pins. After sitting in the interview and listening to the lady explain in a thousand different ways but never actually saying “You will sell Pins for a commission” I politely declined and hauled my unemployed ass back to Petersham.

After the success of ‘The Unsung Docker’ I was keen to dip my toe in the acting pool again, if only to fill in my days of unemployment creatively. I went searching through the website ‘StarNow’, which is essentially the Craiglists of media work and applied for numerous gigs. Along with the short films and University projects I applied for I also applied to be represented by an acting agent so they could make the job search easier for me. After a few days I received a call about my application and they were super keen to have me on their books which was weird because the only film credit I had was ‘The Unsung Docker’. I’ve always been skeptical of people who are too excited to offer me something because 99.9% of the time its something you don’t want.

I reluctantly agreed to sign with them, I figured if this was a scam they wouldn’t be able to get any money out of me because I’m fucking broke but sure enough a week later true to their word they sent me out for my first audition. The gig was paying $2000 for a days work playing a delivery man for a Tatts Lotto commercial. Being $2000 for a days work I wasn’t exactly confident because I felt you needed to have some serious acting chops to make $2000 a day. In my mind that’s like ‘Home and Away’ money. But sure enough, I went to the audition and for the first of many times in my acting career I was the right kinda fat shit.

I don’t remember much of the commercial, it never made it to air. All I remember was pushing an empty refrigerator box and pretending it was full. My experience in manual labour had given me the skills to be able to look like I work harder than I do so I was able to nail the performance. The only other thing I remember from the shoot was that the little girl in the scene was a spoilt little rich kid and was as annoying as fuck for the whole day. She kinda reminded me of Veruca from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory only she didn’t die chasing golden duck eggs.

When the shoot was done I had to wait a few weeks to get paid and after union fees and my agents cut I ended up only making about $1100 which is less Home and Away money and more regular Delivery Man money.

In between acting jobs I was still hitting up ‘StarNow’ to find independent projects to cut my teeth on. Only two stood out, one was playing a a security guard ( I think my character died in it but I don’t remember) the other was me in a suit watching a chick dance in front of me with a red light filling the room. The scene felt like a cross between a David Lynch film and a soft core porno. I have yet to see either of these films but I’m sure I nailed the fat guy character they were looking for.

During this time, I finally buckled on avoiding manual labour work and got a job at the Airport working for REX Airline which is a small regional airline. One of the most brain numbing jobs I ever experienced, so much so I started regretting not taking that sweet sweet Paralympic Pin money. The REX job was to purely help me pay the bills and it barely did that. My excitement for living in the big city lights of Sydney was starting to dimmer.

During one particular shift I got a call from my agent saying that I had been offered another gig. I didn’t even have to audition I just had to meet the director and see if we “vibed”. I asked my agent why I didn’t have to audition for this film and she blew so much smoke up my ass I felt like I was sitting on top of a volcano. She said “I was the best actor on their books”, “how incredibly talented I was”, and “how I have a big future in acting”. Pretty much saying I was the next Heath Ledger and for a millisecond I actually believed it until I read the character description “Fat, Balding, pale, poor skin etc etc”. The gig was for an anti obesity health campaign and I was like, Fuck that! two seconds ago you were describing me as the next Heath Ledger and now you want me to do a role that is me just being a fatty fat boombardy FUCK THAT. Then she said it was paying $5000 so I agreed to do it.

We didn’t really need an excuse to party in Petersham so being offered $5000 for an acting job is as good as any. We also had friends over from Perth and what better way to celebrate my thriving acting career than getting drunk with the Perth crew. Partying was not the best decision because I ended sleeping in and had to race to the meet and greet with the director stinking of piss (alcohol and my own) looking super haggard and feeling paranoid I may have flushed $5000 down the toilet. I managed to get to the meeting in time by spending my last few bucks on an Uber, walked into the meeting looking disgusting and smelling like an alley way. I walked in to meet the Director gingerly and feeling a bit embarrassed about the state I was in. Too my surprise though, my night on the piss had helped me become the living embodiment of their ‘Fat piece of shit character’ they wanted for the commercial. So I left the meeting on a high but with no more money, I ended up spending the next 3 hours getting home for round 2 of Partying Perth style.

It actually paid about $10,000 because every year it aired I would get paid another $5000 in roll over cost.

The shoot ended up being 3 days and it was pretty chilled, I literally had one scene with no dialogue. I pretty much just had to sit there and be fat and sad which was surprisingly hard considering the guy directing the commercial was mostly known for working on comedies so we had a lot of banter in those 3 days. The third day of the shoot was my time to shine, I had to sit there and be told how my fat is killing me etc etc. It was the most important shot of the commercial because this is where they drive home the point that Fat is Bad.

There was some tension on this day because the big honchos of NSW Health who were paying for the commercial wanted to sit in and watch and make sure the scene was delivering their Fat is Bad message. So my first thought was what better way to show off my comedy skills in front of the director than to crack a joke during this pivotal scene. When the Doctor said to me “All that toxic fat can lead to blah blah... its not looking good” I turned to my wife in the scene and said in the saddest voice I could “I better lay off the meat pies then”, This popped the tension in the room and got the whole crew laughing. Its not the best joke but it was good enough to send the crew into a giggle fit after a hard couple of days. Everyone was laughing except the producer who came marching down yelling and screaming about having a bit of respect for NSW Health who were there and are taking this very seriously (Fuck off cunt). NSW Health have been paying to fat shame me for 3 fucking days, they can go fuck themselves if they can’t handle one Meat Pie joke. Getting told off made the crew laugh even harder. They struggled like school children being told off at an assembly but once everyone got their composure back we shot the scene and it was a wrap.

youtube

After the fat commercial I felt I was done with acting. Don’t get me wrong acting is a lot of fun but it kinda loses its magic when you’re whole role is sitting their looking fat.

One of the ways I tried reigniting the spark to do acting was when I came across a ‘Kickstarter’ campaign for Troma’s new film Return to Nuke em High Vol 2. Troma was a big part of my childhood with the toy line Toxic Crusaders which was inspired by the animated series and not the incredibly gory live action movies. With ‘Kickstarter’ campaigns they have rewards depending on the amount of money you donate and for $3500 you could have the legendary Lloyd Kauffman direct a 5 minute short film that I would write. I jumped at the opportunity to buy this reward not only would I be following in the same steps as actors like Kevin Costner, Samuel L Jackson, James Gunn who got their start doing Troma films, but it was a great excuse to head over to New York.

I purchased this reward which was $3500USD, it was not only all the money I made working on the fat commercial but it was also all of my pay from REX Airline for that fortnight after.( I didn’t take into consideration the exchange rate). I made my investment in 2015 and I finally received the DVD copy and posters at the end of 2019. It was a slow process but definitely looking forward to heading over once this COVID-19 shit is over and done with. I don’t think I’ll use the original script I wrote in 2015 called Love/Life about a guy who develops a relationship with the girl who catfished him, she also happens to be a Banshee.

A few months later I got sent for another audition this time it was a paid short film called The Spa. What was the role? Well Fat delivery man of course! but this one was different, it was an amazing script and I actually had dialogue which is always great.

I ended up scoring the role of Moose and part of the job requirement was having to do table reads with the other cast members. Still being naive I thought this was a bit of over kill for a short film but if I’m getting paid and it gets me out of a days work so I’m happy to do all the table reads you want. I’m glad they did the table reads because when I went in for the rehearsal I was star struck by the cast.

After the Fat Commercial I had bitch and moaned to the universe to give me a role that would show I could hold my own against the best of the best and not just a guy whose there for being the right kinda fat. In return the universe slapped me into check when I walked in for the first table read and saw the cast that included Chris Haywood, Jay Laga'aia who have pretty much starred in every great piece of Australian cinema and Peter Moalaeua who I had seen on a bunch of TV commercials. They say be careful what you wish for and I was definitely worried I had bitten off more than I could chew. It was a dream come true to work with the likes of these actors and also a huge motivator to make sure I could hold my own against these acting beast.

The shoot for The Spa was absolutely amazing, working with some of the most talented actors and crew in the country. Watching Chris Haywood and Jay Laga’aia on set was one of the greatest experiences. Observing them walk around just nailing every take and then joking and laughing with the rest of the crew and doing so with absolutely zero ego.

This reminds me, after the shoot Jay Laga’aia drove me as close as he could to my flat in Petersham and then gave me his $50 Taxi gift voucher to help me get the rest of the way home. It was a crazy experience driving home with Jay because we’re talking about comedy and what not and I’m sitting there like Jay Laga’aia is giving me a lift home, this dude was in fucking Star Wars.

Working on The Spa was an amazing experience and it is incredibly humbling to sit back and watch the success it has had. Being showcased at film festivals all around the world and picking up numerous awards.

Acting is a weird industry. I’ve loved all the opportunities I’ve gotten, even the shit ones because sometimes you have to work through the Fat Shit Roles to get the skills to be the Fat Shit you’ve always dreamed of. The right kinda fat shit.

vimeo

#acting #perth #fat #fatshaming #movies #commercial #tv #comedy #performing #blog

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kristannafever · 7 years

Text

Bikes and Badges

KP!! I did the thing! I could not help myslef, I just HAD to write this. -I hope it’s not too bike heavy (got kind of carried away lol). This was so fun to write. *I also set it in Boston. I do hope I didn’t mess it up, or offend! Persoanlly I’ve never been there, but my Hubs has, and I am going to be jealous about that until I get to visist myself!*

Rated: T?? (I don’t know... very minor swears, but nothing really bad, but I think we all know I have no idea how to rate stuff) WC: 2315

Kristoff flicked the switch for the ignition. He would never get tired of hearing the distinct sound of a Harley Davidson come to life. There was just no way to fully describe it. It was raw and guttural and so unique. There was no other bike on the planet that sounded like a Harley. His own Chopper back home was much louder, but at least the Police Cruiser had more torque.

He pulled on his helmet and slid on his Aviators, smiling as he swung his leg over the bike and settled himself in the familiar seat. He pulled up the kickstand with his left foot and backed the bike out of the stall it was parked in, at the Police garage. He popped the bike into gear and eased back on the throttle as he let go of the clutch, slowly cruising from the garage onto the streets of Boston.

As soon as he was out on the road, he opened it up. The loud crack of the throttle and the vibration between his legs, filled his senses. Ever since he had hopped on his first little Yamaha 50 dirt-bike, at 7 years old, he was hooked. There was no way to describe the feeling of being on a bike, and Kristoff’s face broke out into a smile as began cruising and looking for people to pull over.

He loved his job.

It was a gorgeous July day, and Kristoff enjoyed the sun on his skin, even if he did start to get a little hot waiting at traffic lights. As soon as he was able to move again, and the wind greeted him, all was right in the world. He drove with the effortlessness that comes from years of handling a bike.

He was cruising past Fenway Park when he spotted his first traffic offender. He hated having to pull people over for something as simple as not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign, but so far it was a slow day and he had a quota to make.

He flicked his thumb on the siren and pulled the Road King up behind the vehicle as it came to a slow stop. Kristoff used the toe of his boot to pop the bike into natural and flicked down the kickstand. He stood and easily lifted his leg over. He approached the vehicle slowly, with his hand resting on his service pistol.

He looked down at the auburn-haired fellow with shitty sideburns, but before he could open his mouth the man’s green eyes flared with anger. “What the hell are you pulling me over for?”

“You didn’t come to a complete stop at that stop sign back there.”

The man gaped at him. “Are you kidding me? That is horseshit!”

“Licence and registration please.”

The man grumbled and swore under his breath as he fumbled out his things and handed them to Kristoff. He took them back to the bike and called in the plate and the licence number to make sure there were no outstanding warrants. Everything was clean, so Kristoff wrote up the summons and walked slowly back to the car.

“Here you are.” He handed back the mans things along with the fine. “You have thirty days to-“

“Yeah, yeah, this isn’t my first ticket.”

“Have yourself a nice day.” Kristoff smiled at him, ignoring the sneer her got in return. He heard the word Pig being uttered as the man drove away.

Kristoff got back on his bike with a sigh. That was one part of the job he did not enjoy. People always acted differently around him when he was in uniform. He was either met with complete and utter distain, or people seemed to shy away, as if they were guilty of something. He had been told many times that seeing a cop sometimes made people feel like they were doing something wrong, even when they weren’t.

It all boiled down to respect. Either people respected what he did, or they didn’t, and the latter was so difficult to deal with sometimes. He had been accused, on more than one occasion, of being a dirty cop by random civilians after he had pulled them over, for no other provocation than he had to give them a ticket for a law that they had broken.

He pulled back onto the road and kept his eyes open as he cruised back towards the piers. He knew by the time he made his way over there, it would almost be lunch time, and he could head over to Pauli’s and grab one of their delicious Lobster Rolls.

He was cruising through the Theatre District on Stuart when an old Volkswagen Beetle caught his eye, and not for his appreciation of old cars, but because it had a broken tail light. Kristoff flicked on his sirens again and pulled behind the bug. It pulled over slowly and he repeated the routine he had done a thousand times.

When he got up to the window of the car he was surprised to see a pair of beautiful blue eyes staring at him.

“Know why I pulled you over miss?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.” Her voice was level, and she did not seem intimidated at all. It was a nice change. Most women he pulled over already had the waterworks started, to try and get out of the ticket he was going to issue them.

“Your tail light is broken.”

“It is?” She blinked at him.

He stood back and gestured with a sweep of his arm for her to come and take a look herself. She obliged, opening her door and gliding to her feet. She walked to the back to take a look, her face falling as she realized someone must have vandalized her car because the entire light was bashed in.

“At least the body is okay.” Kristoff offered upon seeing her frustrated frown.

“Do you know how hard it is to get authentic parts for these cars?” She said more to herself than to him. “And they’re wicked expensive too.”

“What year?”

“It’s a ‘77.”

“My Buddy owns a parts shop. I can give you his number and maybe he can get a line on one for you.” Kristoff reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. He always grabbed a couple before he left for his shift because there were a lot of cases like this, and he was able to throw Sven a lot of business. He handed it to her. “Here you go. I’ll let him know you’ll be calling, and I can get him to give you the price at cost.”

She brought her eyes to his slowly and took the card from his outstretched hand. “Thank you.” She said quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” Kristoff smiled at her, trying to remain professional in her captive gaze. It had been a long time since he had pulled over someone who was so pretty.

“How much is this going to cost me?” She asked, tucking the card into the pocket of her jeans.

“Huh?” He wasn’t sure her meaning. He was caught up in the spans of freckles across her cheeks.

“The ticket. For the broken tail light?”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to give you one. I’ll just let you off with a warning.”

“That’s sweet.” She said in a curious manner.

Kristoff smiled at her and tipped his head in a courteous gesture. “Well you have a good day miss. And please get it fixed as soon as you are able. If another cop pulls you over, you might end up getting a ticket after all.”

He was just about get back on his bike when he heard her behind him.

“Um Officer…”

He turned around. “Bjorgman.” He offered, just as she was reading his nametag.

“Look, Officer Bjorgman,”

“Kristoff.”

“Pardon?”

“Call me Kristoff. That’s my first name.”

“Oh.” She blushed above her smile. “Well, Officer Kristoff, I don’t suppose you would let me buy you lunch? As a thank you?”

“No need, Miss…?”

“Anna.”

“No need Anna. I’m just doing my job.”

“Still, I appreciate your kindness. I’d like to repay you.”

There was something in her gaze that was breaking down all his defenses. “Well… I was heading over to Pauli’s.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh perfect! They have the best sandwiches! Please just let me buy you one, as a thanks.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but she was suddenly impossible to resist. “Alright, how about I meet you over there?”

She broke out into a smile that sent shivers down his back despite how hot it was getting. “Great! See you there.”

*****

Anna followed him, and parked behind him as he pulled up to the street. She tried not to get too flustered, watching him stand and swing one of his long legs over the bike as he removed his helmet and ran his hand through his golden hair a few times. He approached her and smiled.

She smiled back, ignoring her her reflection in his Aviators and they walked the half block down to the little sandwich place.

Kristoff pulled the door open and stood inside to let her enter. She obliged and walked a few steps in before turning around. He was tucking the arm of his sunglasses into the pocket on the front of his uniform and met her gaze.

She faltered at the warm brown of his eyes. She wasn’t expecting them to be so gorgeous, and… soulful.

“What’s your usual?” He asked.

“Uh…” She knew what he was wondering, but words were escaping her at the moment.

He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes with curios smile.

“Uh,” She giggled nervously. “The Mama Lucca actually. How about you?”

“Oh, Lobster Roll all the way.”

“Yeah? Never had one here. Maybe I’ll have to give that a try too.”

They waited in line until it was their turn to place their order and Anna ordered two Lobster Rolls. Kristoff grabbed a handful of napkins and sauntered over to one of the few tables the place had to offer to wait for her. She paid for their sandwiches and two cans of Coke and joined him with their order number.

He was strumming his fingers on the table nervously, clearly not knowing what to say, so Anna opened the line of dialogue. She was always good at that. “So, biker cop huh? How do you like it?”

Anna had to smile at the way his face lit up. “Oh, I love it. It’s the best. Just being out there on the bike, riding around the city… it’s fantastic. I love to ride.”

“Yeah? You have your own personal motorcycle then too?”

“Ahyuh, Custom-built Harley Chopper.”

“Let me guess, a Softail?”

His mouth gaped at her. “Uh yeah.” He said slowly.

She laughed. “My Dad was a motorcycle enthusiast.”

“He was, was he?” Kristoff said and rubbed his hand thoughtfully over his chin. “You ride too?”

“Me, no. Never really got interested, but I loved to listen to my Dad talk about it. I could listen to him for hours, and believe me, he could talk for hours.”

Kristoff opened his mouth but their number was called, so he shut it slowly and got up to grab their food. They chatted idly as they ate, and Anna enjoyed every bite of her sandwich, knowing she now had a new usual when she went to Pauli’s.

When they were done they talked a little more about Anna’s work as a Concierge at the Fairmont Copley Plaza hotel, before they walked back to their vehicles to go their separate ways.

Anna noticed that Kristoff was lingering a bit as she stood next to her car, and she desperately hoped that it was to ask her out. She didn’t want to be so forward as to ask out a cop herself, who she was sure let her out of a ticket, while he was on duty… but she really wanted to keep talking to him.

“Thanks again for lunch.” He smiled.

Anna was glad his sunglasses were still resting from his pocket, so she could see his wonderful brown eyes in the sunlight. “Well thank you, for not giving me a ticket. And your friends number.” She patted the pocket of her jeans.

“Don’t mention it. You have yourself a good day Anna.” He said and gave her a wink.

“You too.” She said, trying not to let her disappointment come through in her voice as he turned to walk away.

But he paused, and slowly turned back to her, perhaps hearing her dejection. “Forgive me if this is a little forward, but would you… maybe like to grab dinner sometime?”

Anna didn’t hold back the excitement in her smile. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

“Wonderful.” He smiled back and dug in his pocket for his phone. Anna did the same and they exchanged their numbers with promises to get back in touch with each other soon. Anna slid into the seat of her car and watched as he put on his helmet and sunglasses and got on his bike. She bit her lip at the little wave he gave her as he rode off.

She fished into her pocket and pulled out the card he had given her. She knew if it was any other cop who pulled her over, things would not have gone the way they did. She tucked the card into her purse so she wouldn’t forget about it and accidently wash it with her clothes, like she always seemed to do with all the things she collected in her pockets.

She pulled out onto the street and drove back home with a huge grin on her face, excited to go on a date with a cop who liked bikes.

#bikes and badges #cee wrote this mess #kristoff'#anna #kristanna #kristanna modern au #titles are hard #but man this was fun to write #i am so glad my mom took the kids today and i could do this #because it's been in my head ever since your post KP!#but im sorry i didnt get to finish it until now #cuz i know its later in Boston #and i hope this doesnt suck too bad #becuase i really REALLY wanted to post it right away #so it hasn't been edited very well

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