#does the novel actually describe her with only one horn??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jadequeen88 · 2 years

Text

Watchin' You

Summary:

He walked around the corner of the building that housed the showers when he saw them. Eddie knew that was your canvas bag, the very one he saw you pull out of the floorboard of his van when you got out. There was no mistaking that the black, lace boy shorts lying on top of your other clothes were yours. It looked like you’d stepped out of them and laid them right on the bag. That could only mean one thing… “Oh, fuck me sideways…” You’d been wearing these. You sat in Eddie’s van wearing these exact panties.

Notes:

I had a mighty need for more Virgin Eddie content that resulted in this monstrosity of a one-shot... that will have a part two! Let me know what y'all think of my characterization of our boy in the comments!

TWs: Virgin Eddie Munson, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Eddie Munson Has ADHD, Vaginal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Panty Kink, Eddie Munson is a panty thief, Panty thief

“Hey.”

Eddie looks around his locker door to ensure he’s not hallucinating, that an actual, real-life girl is speaking to him.

“Y-yeah? Me?” goddammit, of course, his voice would choose to crack now.

“Yeah, you.”

Oh god, you’re pretty. Like, music-video-vixen level pretty. It’s terrifying.

“Um, what is it?”

“Smooth moves, jackass. Now you sound like a dick,” he thinks.

You bite your bottom lip, looking slightly amused. Ah, shit. You’re about to laugh in his face, aren't you?

“We’re twins,” you say, holding out the bottom of your t-shirt. Sure as shit, you are in matching Iron Maiden shirts. Eddie nearly faints. However, what he actually does could be considered worse than fainting in front of his dream girl.

“Oh,” he squeaks out, slamming his locker door and turning to walk away quickly.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! What the fuck was that?! his brain screams. The first time a girl speaks to him without ill intent, a girl who likes his favorite band no less, and he runs away like a bitch. Perfect.

That was the only interaction between you and the awkward metalhead in high school, but it was enough to make a lasting impression

After that day, Eddie soaked up any and all information about you that he could. He knew you had just transferred from Indianapolis and that you played the French Horn. You must be good because he discovered that you were first chair and section leader. Eddie knew that you liked to skip your third-period gym class to smoke. You often joked with your friends about how your days playing your instrument were numbered due to the bad habit (he may or may not also skip that period just to sit on the other side of the tall brick wall to hear your voice, not creepy at all, shut up).

He knew that you used expensive Italian perfume to cover the smell of cigarette smoke; something that in Eddie’s mind smelled like sophistication and raw sex appeal, but according to what you told Buckley, actually smelled like bergamot, sandalwood, and patchouli. He also knew you used cherry chapstick instead of lipstick in neon shades as other girls did. You didn’t wear much make-up, mainly eyeliner which made your eyes darker and more mysterious.

He knew that you mostly stuck to your group of band kids. There was this one time, however, when you saw Carol Perkins trip one of the chess team kids in the cafeteria. You gave her a black eye in front of the entire school and got suspended for a week. It was the most metal thing Eddie had ever seen.

He could write a novel about you. He could fill chapters describing how your hair caught the sunlight or how you twirled your rings around your fingers when you were concentrating on a test. He could write sonnets about your chipped, black nail polish and scuffed Docs. He could write dissertations about the intricacies of your music tastes and how closely they align with his tastes based on the bits of band merch you owned and how you chose to wear them.

But Eddie couldn’t fucking speak to you.

He considered it almost daily. But he’d always end up nauseous at the very thought of trying to approach you. So he never did, and you walked that stage in May of 1983 never to set foot in the halls of Hawkins High again. You got your diploma, went back to Indianapolis for college, and left Eddie behind to rot in the dusty trailer park he called home.

If you’d told Eddie then that a few years later, he’d be trauma bonded with Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, and “King Steve” Harrington after fighting interdimensional monsters and saving the world, he’d have laughed in your face. But here he is, freshly graduated (finally), surrounded by friends, and sporting some gnarly scars to prove it all happened.

He was out by Steve’s pool (one of the perks of having a rich friend) watching the sunset and sharing stories with his friend over a beer. The crunch of gravel on the driveway drew their attention to the front of the house as they were standing to compare demobat scars.

“Buckley and Wheeler?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded.

“Yeah, and Robin’s other friend. Just graduated college. I don’t really know her that well, but she spent her senior year in Hawkins. She was a band kid or something, I think. Played the same instrument as Robin,” Steve waves his hands in a vague gesture trying to think of what the instrument in question was again. “That… big, curly trumpet.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “French horn…” he whispered, and Steve snapped his fingers in frustration that he’d forgotten the name of his best friend’s instrument.

There’s no way, it couldn’t be…

He didn’t have time to do more than grip the glass bottle in his hand and stare towards the side of the house where their friends’ voices echoed. He felt too exposed shirtless, so he bolted to grab his cropped Metallica tee and hurriedly threw it over his head.

“The fuck is your problem, man?” Steve asked, weirded out at his easy-going friend’s sudden burst of anxiety.

“Just,” he waved his hands around in frustration, trying to formulate a proper response. “The scars. They’re kinda gnarly, ya know?”

Steve scoffed. “Pretty sure it was Nance and me who kept you from bleeding out, and Robin has seen more of us than either of us are comfortable with, so what-”

Eddie shifted on his feet uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest and eyes on the ground. Steve bent forward to meet his gaze, hands on his narrow hips and sporting a shit-eating grin.

“Oh shit, is it the band girl? Do you know her?” Steve walked towards him, speaking in a hushed tone, eyes brimming with mischief. The thought of Eddie “cold, cynical heart” Munson having a schoolboy crush was sending him over the moon with glee.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie hissed in Steve’s face right before you and the rest of the group rounded the corner of the house.

“Holy hell,” Steve murmured low enough for only Eddie to hear, “Didn’t know band nerds could look like that.”

Eddie was so enchanted by your sudden appearance that he almost missed the salacious tone of Steve’s voice. Almost.

“I will end you, Harrington. I swear to God, if you-”

“Jesus man, cool it. I won’t step on any toes,” he raised his hands in surrender, and Eddie’s glare softened marginally. “I’m only noticing what anyone who isn’t blind would.”

Eddie took a moment to look at you properly. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he used the opportunity to drink in your form. He felt like a man wandering the desert deprived of water, finally making it to the bank of a river. Sure, he pined after you for an embarrassingly long time after you left Hawkins, and he never really forgot about you. There were other crushes and even a couple of make-out sessions, but they were never you. Seeing you now in that flowing, white swimsuit cover, skin glistening with sun tan oil, and that blinding smile spread across your face, Eddie felt like that sixteen-year-old loser who ran from you in the halls at school.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie grumbled under his breath so only Steve could hear. “If you try anything, I’ll make sure you do end up blind.” He schooled his features to look unfazed the closer you got.

“Jesus,” Steve wheezed, still a little shocked at Eddie’s rare burst of aggression. The last time he saw him this worked up he was holding a broken beer bottle to his neck in Reefer Rick’s boat shed. “Got it, chief. No funny business outta me.”

Eddie was so fucked. Not only was he trying to deal with being in your presence again without making an ass of himself, but his friends were also onto him. It’s almost like fighting monsters and nearly dying in a hell-dimension together made you all very perceptive of behavioral shifts. Who knew? It’s nice for Eddie to have a group of friends who finally get him, but hella inconvenient when he’s trying to hide the fact that he has a crush on the new addition to the group.

Steve, naturally, noticed first. Seeing Eddie get all “aggro” right off the bat killed any chances of him playing it cool. So his gaze followed him throughout the night, observing how Eddie would interact with you.

Steve’s attention then spurred Robin's attention. And when she has her sights honed in on a situation, it’s like a Great White sensing a drop of blood in the water.

The “Scoop Troop Wonder Twins” gawking at him (they were not being subtle at all, by the way) caught the attention of “super-sleuth” Nancy Wheeler. That led to the three of them huddled in a mass, whispering together on the opposite edge of the pool.

The only radars that Eddie was managing to fly under were Jonathan and Argyle’s. That’s not hard to do since they were balls-high on Purple Palm Tree Delight as soon as they sat in the metal deck chairs on Steve’s patio.

Then there you were, partaking in the rotation with the two stoners, a spot Eddie usually occupied. With your feet propped in an empty chair, he could hear you talking passionately about music with the other two. When he looked up as he heard you call out to him, Eddie knew his face had to give away how shocked he was.

“Hey! It’s Eddie, right?” You moved your feet out of the empty chair and motioned him over. “I remember you being a man of taste. Come over here and back me up on this.”

Eddie would readily agree to anything you asked of him. He’d fight to the death over it now.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he scratched his head a little and walked over to sit.

You promptly handed him the tightly rolled joint, smoke curling out of your nostrils like some sort of sexy wyvern, eyes half-lidded and just a little red. Oh god, he’s so terribly in love.

“I’m going to give you two options to choose from. No right or wrong, no pressure. But be warned,” then your lips curled in a mischievous smirk. He was reminded again of a dragon offering a riddle to a poor mortal that stumbled upon her hoard, the answer granting safe passage or untimely demise. “I will remember how you answer, and I will definitely judge you for it.”

Eddie almost choked on the smoke he’d inhaled like he was fourteen again and smoking for the first time behind his uncle’s trailer. “Wow, yeah. No pressure at all. Okay, hit me,” he responded, trying to appear calm as he passed the joint to Argyle.

“Black Sabbath with Ozzy? Or Black Sabbath with Dio? You’ve got thirty seconds,” you grinned evilly, swinging one leg over the other and leveling your dark gaze at him.

“Oh shit, man. Uh,” Eddie was losing it. He didn’t expect such a difficult decision. Choosing between his two favorite metal vocalists? Pure torture. But he’s a professional metalhead, after all. He’s put thought into this very question. “Ozzy Sabbath is iconic, of course. But Heaven and Hell is hands down one of the best albums ever written.”

You clapped once loudly and then pointed at Jonathan cackling. “What did I say?! One of Sabbath’s best albums ever made was with Dio fronting!”

The shaggy-haired stoner groaned and rolled his eyes. You looked over at Eddie, biting back a wide grin. “Jonathan said Sabbath wasn’t really Sabbath anymore once Ozzy left and that no one would agree with me when I defended Heaven and Hell!”

“Wait, you listen to Sabbath, Byers?” Eddie questioned, brows raised. He never took the gangly pothead as someone who would listen to metal.

“I listen to a little of everything, I guess,” he mumbled, passing the joint back to you to start another rotation.

You leaned your head back to gaze at the stars that just started to appear in the sky as you blew the fragrant smoke from your lips. “You passed my test. Congrats,” you extended your arm to Eddie, looking at him softly. Your fingers brushed as you handed over the roach, the joint almost gone by now. “I won’t judge you so harshly now.”

Maybe it was the high setting in, but Eddie swore he saw you throw a little wink his way. There was no stopping the goofy little grin taking over his face as he took the last hit off the joint and relaxed into his chair.

Eddie wasn’t ever, nor ever would be religious, but there is one quote he’s often heard that has stuck in his brain:

“The Lord gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.”

It only confirms there is no Christian god in his mind. He’s been thrown into the toughest battles of his life constantly over the past few weeks, and if there is one thing Eddie knows for sure, it’s the fact that he is no one’s strongest soldier.

Today’s challenge took the form of a slip of black lace peeking out of the top of your duffle bag.

This most recent dilemma was the result of Eddie agreeing to something he’d always avoided until now…

Fucking camping

Eddie hated the outdoors and hated being forced to spend more time than necessary roaming them. (Uncle Wayne always blamed it on having a dad who only ever taught him how to commit crimes and never took him camping as a small child, but who knows?). As soon as you consented to the idea, Eddie was totally on board with going along. Steve started to give him shit for agreeing so quickly to something he knew his friend hated until Eddie leveled him with a glare so toxic it could melt the paint off the walls.

By this point, he was pretty sure everyone besides you knew about his crush (and probably Argyle, but that guy was constantly operating on another wavelength). Even Nancy started giving him knowing looks behind her permed bangs when he’d laugh just a tad bit too loud at your jokes. Eddie nearly threw Steve out of his passenger's seat when you asked to hitch a ride with him out to Lover’s Lake campground.

“What the fuck, man! I can just get in the back-”

“Nope. No. Fuck off, Harrington. Take your own car this time.”

“But I just washed-,”

“Don’t care…”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

Steve relented, making up a random excuse for taking his car. Robin happily jumped into the passenger seat of his little Mercedes and took over his radio. Eddie just grinned and threw a middle finger at his friend, who glared at him over the top of his car before getting inside.

“Thank god I’m riding with you! I don’t think I could suffer through any more of Argyle’s stoner tunes.” you hopped into Eddie’s van wearing a cropped Mercyful Fate tee and tiny denim cut-offs. So much exposed skin with no warning was doing terrible things for Eddie’s poor, inexperienced (dick) heart. “I love the guy, don’t get me wrong, I just needed to bond with a fellow metalhead today.”

Eddie cleared his throat and smiled, starting the car. He’s grateful he has the excuse of watching the road to keep his eyes (mostly) turned away from your exposed thighs. “Of course. Anytime.”

If Eddie weren’t so hopeless, he’d make some quip about all the fun ways the two of you could ‘bond’, but how could he flirt with you when looking at your legs had him getting hard like some fifteen-year-old? He was so hopeless.

“You can put in anything you’d like,” he gestured to the shoebox that held his cassette collection at your feet. “Most of my shit is at home, but I keep a decent variety here.”

He heard little ‘oohs’ and ‘ahh’s’ as you shuffled through the box. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little proud that you approved of his musical selection. You yelled an enthusiastic “You’re fuckin’ kidding me!” and popped a tape into the radio before he could ask what you’d found.

“Where did you find this?! I’ve looked for months!”

Eddie started sweating when he heard the opening riff to the raunchiest goddamn song. It was his prized possession, one he only got his hands on because of friends in high places, W.A.S.P.’s “Animal” cassette.

“Umm,” Eddie’s brain short-circuited as you began to move to the beat of the music, throwing your head back and grinning at him wildly. “I’m pretty good buddies with a guy that owns a record store up in Indianapolis. Asked him to keep an eye out for me. I only got it a couple of weeks ago.”

“God, I’ve been dying to hear it again after hearing it live last March.”

Eddie’s nerves were quickly replaced with excitement. “Wait, live, you say?!”

“Yup,” you pop the p proudly and rest your feet on the dash. “I’ve got a cousin down in Dallas, which sucks, by the way. I don’t recommend ever going to Texas. Anyway, we saw them open for Iron Maiden. I’m telling you, it was a religious experience.”

Eddie slapped his hands on the steering wheel and a short, disbelieving laugh escaped his throat. “That’s insane! Holy shit, man!”

“I know,” you hummed. He felt you look over at him. “Have you gotten to see either of them live yet?”

“Nah,” he sighed. “Not yet. But one day! I’m already saving up.”

“We’ll go together,” you said it so casually, you acted as if it made perfect sense for you guys to go to a concert together. “We can split costs.” Eddie’s heart jumped up to his throat, and before he could form a coherent response, he saw you looking in the back of his van. He suddenly worried about what filth might be lurking back there. “We could even bunk up here and save on a hotel!”

Eddie stuttered and scratched his neck nervously. You must have taken it as rejection because you looked embarrassed as you sat back down and started fidgeting with your hair.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Eddie. I do this thing all the time.” You waved your hands around in front of your face when you said ‘thing’, trying to find the words to express how you felt. “There aren’t many people I can talk about music with, you know? So I get all worked up and excited when someone else seems interested in the bands I love, and I assume we’re best friends.” You let out a self-deprecating chuckle, looking out the passenger side window. “I know it’s off-putting.”

Eddie couldn’t have that. He shook his head so hard that his hair slapped across his face. “Nope, uh-uh. Cut that out.” He glanced over to make sure your attention was on him. “That was like…” he sighed. How could he reassure you without outing himself as being obsessed with you?

“It was so far from off-putting. You have no idea.” Eddie swallowed hard and noticed you looked a little confused. He gathered the meager bits of courage he possessed and continued. “I’m just not used to…” he paused. He can’t say ‘Sorry, I’m not used to my walking, wet dream asking to road-trip with me to go to a metal show, so I don’t know how to function right now.’ so he took a moment to choose his words carefully.

“I’m just not used to other people being as excited as I am about my music, either. So I was just… surprised. But in a good way!” He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and added under his breath. “In a great fuckin’ way, actually.”

Eddie watched you visibly relax. “Oh, thank god,” You chuckled. “I know I can be too much sometimes. I think the reason why one of the only people I’ve stayed friends with is Robin. She’s one of the only people that’s never judged me for it. Robin and I are kinda cut from the same cloth, I guess. Kindred spirits, if you will.”

It warmed his heart to see you smile when talking about the freckled girl that also wormed her way into his heart.

“Buckley’s a good one. She uh,” Eddie’s throat tightened as painful memories flashed across his mind. Tears and mud streaked across Robin's face, screaming something he didn’t understand…Her body quaking under his as she helped drag him along dank, dark earth… her sniffling and talking to him quietly as she bandaged his mauled sides, offering soft words of comfort and handling Eddie as carefully as if he were spun glass…

He cleared his throat and blinked away a rogue tear threatening to escape. “She’s one of a kind. Harrington, too. Shit, the whole bunch. You’ll see, you don’t have to be anyone but yourself around these guys. Promise.”

Eddie felt comforted as he watched you relax further into the passenger seat. He knew all about being ‘too much’ and how people treated those that dared to be unapologetically themselves. He had no idea someone as perfect as you ever experienced things similar to his own growing up.

The rest of the short drive consisted of talking about music and shows you’d been to, always with the promise of ‘when we see them next time.’ Including Eddie in your plans made Eddie’s insides all gooey and his heart flutter. He tried to keep reminding himself that just because you were being nice to him that it didn’t mean you were about to confess your undying love. It’s a problem Eddie has always had. He can’t love anything halfway; not his music, books, or even a few movies he’d been obsessed with over the years. It also bled into his relationships, this all-consuming, feral love. Uncle Wayne has always said that he wore his heart on his sleeve, even after life had given him every reason to build a barbed wire fence around it.

Eddie parked a little way uphill from the others since his van doubled as his tent and because he valued his privacy. He told himself he didn’t want the younger kids catching a whiff of his nightly smoking sesh (He knows they know about his drug dealing, but that doesn't mean he wants to flaunt it). A darker part of him knew that he might have to indulge in other nightly activities after watching you in a tiny, red bikini all day.

Eddie graciously helped everyone out with setting up their tents. However, he still periodically reminded anyone who would listen that he didn’t have to bother with tents since he owned the superior form of transportation that doubled as a car and a place to sleep. So what if his chest puffed up a little when you giggled at his comments? He didn’t think it warranted the gagging and eye-rolling he got from Henderson, Red, and both Sinclair siblings. Damn kids…

When everyone went to the campground showers to change into swimsuits, Eddie simply threw his shirt off, opting to swim in his cut-off jeans. He snickered, thinking about the look of horror he’d get from Mr. Former Swim Team Captain at his audacity (he banned denim from his pool to force Eddie into a pair of borrowed trunks, but they were at the lake now. King Steve had no power here).

When you left the showers with Robin and Nancy in a cherry red bikini, Eddie made a beeline for the toilets. There’s no way in the nine circles of hell he’d be able to swim around without getting hard at the sight of you. He walked around the corner of the building that housed the showers when he saw them. Eddie knew that was your canvas bag, the very one he saw you pull out of the floorboard of his van when you got out. There was no mistaking that the black, lace boy shorts lying on top of your other clothes were yours. It looked like you’d stepped out of them and laid them right on the bag. That could only mean one thing…

“Oh, fuck me sideways…”

You’d been wearing these. You sat in Eddie’s van wearing these exact panties.

He knew he’d probably hate himself forever for what he was about to do, but in his defense, Eddie did make sure you had extra pairs of clean panties before swiping these (He’s not a monster, okay? He wouldn’t dream of leaving a fair maiden pantiless). After taking them, cursing himself quietly, he high-tailed it back to his van to hide them. He couldn’t help feeling like Gollum, storing the One Ring away in his cave away from nosey hobbits.

Before going back to the lake, he couldn’t resist pulling the fabric to his face and inhaling deeply. Eddie’s eye’s rolled into the back of his head, groaning at the light scent of you that permeated the delicate fabric. He shook his head and threw them into the van to rest among his bedding. If he got too carried away now, he would never get rid of the persistent issue he had grown between his thighs.

After another adjustment and filling his thoughts with some of the most boner-killing scenarios, Eddie was finally able to rejoin everyone at the lake. If he had to remain solidly waist deep the entire time to avoid embarrassing himself and everyone around him… Well that was his business, wasn’t it?

As Eddie’s luck would have it, as soon as he dared to slip the tantalizing strip of fabric that haunted him all fucking day long over his face, there was a knock on his van door. He nearly jumped out of his skin, sitting up at lightning speed.

He cracked the back door open and gasped when he saw it was you, still clutching your panties firmly in his grip. He slammed the door shut before you could speak and dove towards his bedding, stuffing the offending garment deep into his pillowcase. Eddie took one large breath to steady himself before turning to open the back door again.

“H-hi, umm,” he wanted to curl up into a ball and die. He just knew you were on to him. You were probably knocking on his door to tell him what a filthy pervert he was and demand he hand over your underwear. “What’s uh… what’s up?”

You looked both amused and slightly confused, one eyebrow cocked upwards. “Well, the thing is,” you looked around the dark campground, biting your bottom lip. “My tent keeps collapsing. So I tried bunking with Robin and Steve, but there was no room. All the other tents are full too, so… if it wouldn’t be too weird, I guess…” you trailed off sheepishly.

“You wanna sleep in here?” Eddie knew his eyes rivaled the size of the full moon that hung above your heads. He felt equal parts horrified, shocked, and elated that you’d ended up seeking him out.

“I’m sorry if it’s too weird! I can just squeeze between Robin and Steve, it’s no big-”

“No,” Eddie barked. He cleared his throat a little and lowered his voice. “No, it’s totally fine. I don’t mind at all,” The thought of you snuggling up to Harrington was one he didn’t want to entertain. He hoped his smile was reassuring and not creepy like he felt it might be. You must not have cared since you beamed at him and announced you’d be back with your bedding in a minute.

Eddie scrambled around to ensure the mess in the back of his van wasn’t too out of hand. He’d thrown an old pair of boxers and an empty beer can over the driver’s side seat when he heard you knock again. He was relieved that he decided to shower and put on deodorant earlier when most of the other guys didn’t after swimming all afternoon. Eddie would have lain awake all night in misery if he’d had to share close quarters with you smelling like a fish.

Once you were both inside the van, he closed the door, and the silence was deafening. You must have noticed the tension because you shifted an inch closer and cleared your throat. That gave Eddie the courage to sneak a peek at you over his shoulder.

He nearly groaned as he watched you pull a joint out of your goddamn bra and wave it in front of you, cocking an eyebrow up and smiling.

“Purple palm tree delight?” Eddie whispered, his mouth dry as cotton before taking a single hit.

“You know it,” you responded, pulling a lighter out of your pillowcase. Eddie wondered why you weren’t using your pockets. He risked a glance down towards your lap. Your shorts (if they could even be called shorts instead of underwear) were so tiny that there was no way you’d fit anything in there, even if they did have pockets. He felt dizzy at the thought of you being in such little clothing this close to him all night.

You lit up the joint, the small, flickering flame casting your features in an enchanting glow. Eddie was close enough to smell that you’d used some of that expensive perfume. A tiny, pathetic part of him wondered if you’d done it for him. ‘Don’t be a fool’ he thought. ‘Just because she’s sharing her weed and talking about music with you doesn’t mean anything. Stop being a pathetic creep.’

He must have missed something you’d said because he heard you call his name and saw you looking at him questioningly.

“Oh, sorry. What was that?”

“I said, can I try something?”

“S-sure,” Eddie didn’t know (or care, if he’s being honest) if you’d asked to try out ritual sacrifice or if you asked to try a piece of his gum, but he knew he’d always let you try anything you’d wanted. “I need to get pretty close. Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded, transfixed by you getting up on your knees and leaning over his face. Your face was inches from his. Eddie thanked any deity that existed for the forethought he had to put his pillow over his lap. He’d beg to be struck down by lightning if you knew how easily he got boners when you were near him.

You brought the joint up to your lips. Before taking a hit, you asked, “Have you ever shotgunned, Eddie?”

Of course, he hadn’t. Eddie’s experience with the fairer sex was woefully lacking. Instead of admitting it out loud, he simply shook his head no.

“Do you want to try it?” you purred. Eddie gripped the pillow over his lap as he nodded yes furiously. You grinned and put the joint to your lips. Eddie could have cried when you placed your small hand on his cheek, thumb pushing his chin down to open his mouth for you.

Your hand traveled to the back of his neck as you released smoke into his waiting mouth, and Eddie shuddered. He grew so flustered that he could barely inhale what you exhaled towards him. His eyes closed, and he let out a shaky exhale as you began to play with his hair.

“How was that?” you asked, lips still heart-achingly close to his own. Eddie’s brain was mush. The defenses he usually kept up around you to appear cool were falling fast.

“Am I dreaming right now?” was the only coherent thought he could string together, so that’s what ended up coming out of his mouth.

Your laughter sounded like bells. “Why do you ask that, Eddie?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” you drew out your response, still looking at him suspiciously.

“I’ve been obsessed with you since I was sixteen,” you looked genuinely surprised, but Eddie couldn’t stop the words from flowing now that he unleashed them. “I think I might die if I have to pretend for one more day that I’m not,” He paused. Eddie was so terrified. He felt like he might puke. “You scare the ever-living shit out of me, but not in a ‘horror movie villain’ way,” he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “In the way you might fear a beautiful warrior queen on the battlefield, or a siren out at sea.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw you wearing such a soft expression that he felt safe to keep talking. He said your name so quietly that he barely heard himself whisper it. “I’m just a freak that dreams about entertaining a goddess.”

Before he could feel insecure about spilling his guts to you in the back of his shitty van, your hands were holding his face, noses pressed together.

“Eddie Munson, you are a fool,” you whispered before attaching your lips to his in the sweetest kiss Eddie knew he’d ever had.

Eddie only nodded in agreement, clutching at your waist. He felt drunk off your lips, all of his insecurities taking a back seat as he reached for another kiss.

“You really had no clue?” you spoke into his ear as you kissed along his jawline.

“About what? Oh, fuck!” he whined as you sat down on top of him. Your weight in his lap felt heavenly despite the stupid pillow being in the way.

“About what?!” You pulled away with a wide eye stare. “I’ve been wanting to get in your pants since high school, you dingus!” You emphasized your point with a light slap to his chest. “I thought you hated me for the longest time! I was so nervous when I talked to you that one time we wore matching Iron Maiden shirts! When you ran away, I thought that was it. Then, years later, not only do I find out my crush is now friends with my best friend,” your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned in. “I also find out that he’s got a big, fat crush on me too.” Your noses brushed and Eddie shivered.

“No fuckin’ way,” he whimpered as your lips brushed lightly.

“Yes fuckin’ way,” you replied, capturing him in another kiss.

Eddie didn’t question how you found out about his crush because he quite frankly didn’t have the brain power for it. He’d deal with all that later.

“Not to run you off or anything,” he sighed, relishing the feel of your soft hands exploring his torso. “But I was so obsessed with you back in school. Like, to a concerning degree.”

He didn’t expect you to moan into his neck at his admission, but he also wasn’t upset about it.

“Tell me about it, baby,” your voice was a husky whisper. “Keep talkin’ to me.”

“Oh god,” Eddie whined as he felt you begin to suck a mark into the delicate skin under his ear. “Feels… that feels so good.”

“Want me to mark you up? Show everyone you belong to me, Eddie?”

“Holy shit, yes! Please…”

“Then talk to me,” you kissed over the mark that began to form on his neck. “Tell me all about your little crush.”

“Fuck!” He cried out, bucking up into the pillow. “I, uh. I n-never even looked at anyone else in school after I saw you.”

“Not even the pretty little cheerleaders?”

“No,” he gasped when your lips met his again. “No one, I swear.”

You got off Eddie’s lap and he thought he might cry at the loss. The pillow hiding the tent he was sporting in his sweats was ripped away and for a moment, he felt self-conscious. You noticed him tense up and cupped his face.

“We can stop, you know?” Your eyes glowed with affection and Eddie wondered again how he was lucky enough to warrant that expression from you. “I’m just thrilled that we can be honest with each other now. We don’t have to do anyth-,”

“I’m a virgin,” Eddie blurred out. “Like a uh, mega virgin…”

Eddie could tell you were trying to keep your features neutral, but he saw the smile that wanted to peek out.

“A ‘mega virgin’?” You said, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Yes,” Eddie answered with a grimace. “Like an ‘I’ve never seen boobies in real life’ level of virgin. So, I’m probably going to be very bad at everything,” he looked up from his lap to lock eyes with you. Any trace of humor was gone, replaced with that honey-sweet fondness in your eyes.

“Can I be blunt with you, Eddie?” Your thumbs brushed his cheekbones softly as you spoke. “I’m so insanely attracted to you that I don’t think any touch you decide to give me could ever feel bad. Do you understand?”

“Y-yeah,” he responded with a whisper. “I feel the same way about you.”

Your forehead met his and he closed his eyes, afraid that when he opened them again, he’d realize this was all a dream.

“Do you wanna feel what kissing you does to me?” Eddie could only nod and pray to Lucifer that this was going where he thought it was. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your lower stomach. “Go ahead,” your lower lip brushed his as you spoke. “Feel how bad I want you.”

Eddie’s fingers trembled as they traveled past the elastic waistband of your tiny black shorts. He was mesmerized watching your mouth drop open and your eyelids lower in pleasure. When his hand’s slow descent made it to your soaked entrance, he was floored by how impossibly wet you were.

“Jesus H. Christ, this is unreal,” he moved his fingers up and down, not having any sort of plan, simply wanting to feel. By the way you grabbed his shoulders and started panting, you didn’t seem to mind his lack of skill too terribly. “Are you always this wet?”

You shook your head no instead of answering verbally. Eddie’s forehead fell to your collarbone as he let out a loud groan. His eyes were fixed on the outline of his hand in your shorts.

“Can we get these off?” He asked. “I wanna look, please.”

“Yeah, sure,” you responded, laying down on his blankets. You lifted your hips to take them off when Eddie grabbed your hands.

“Let me?” Eddie’s hands shook and his breath froze in his lungs. He’d dreamed of this exact scenario so many times before. This all seemed as fantastical as the D&D campaigns he spent hours writing.

“Please,” your voice was so airy and desperate. Eddie still couldn’t comprehend that he was the reason for it. You raised your hips and he slowly pulled your shorts off along with your panties. Immediately, he began running his fingers through your wetness, looking up at your face to judge your reactions.

“Does this feel good?” he asked. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip with your eyes closed. He continued that way for a couple of minutes longer, panting at how wet his pointer and middle fingers had become. He laid his head on your thigh and kissed your damp skin. He kept his nose buried there, reveling in your smell and taste.

“I-I wanna make you come. Please,” your eyes met his and he kissed higher up your thigh, not looking away once. You threw your head back with a loud moan. Eddie felt like a god, your obvious signs of pleasure giving him newfound confidence. His fingers sped up while he added the slightest bit more pressure to his strokes. “That’s it, get loud for me. God, I fucking love your noises. Show me, baby,” he stopped touching you and grabbed one of the hands you had fisted in his blanket and wove your fingers together squeezing gently to get your attention. You nodded and brought his hand back down between your thighs.

“Put them inside,” you coached him along as he breached your soaked entrance. He went as slow as he could manage, eyes flitting between his disappearing fingers and your blissed-out face. Once he was in far enough, you spoke again. “Now, curl the- oh, fuck!”

Eddie grinned wildly at your outburst. He might be a virgin, but he’s not clueless, okay? Weirdly enough, he’d learned this little trick from Reefer Rick, of all people. They got high once and when Eddie let slip he was still a virgin, Rick took it upon himself to give him some sort of fucked up sex ed class on women’s pleasure. At the time, he wanted to curl up and die of shame. Now? All the embarrassment in the world was worth seeing your jaw drop and eyes roll back like this.

“There we go,” he purred. The part of Eddie’s personality that allowed him to go feral while DMing was bleeding over into his interactions with you. He sat up and began rubbing back and forth along your soaked clit with his other hand.

“Oh god, Eddie!” you looked close to tears as he massaged you inside and out. Your hips began writhing and when your thigh accidentally grazed Eddie’s stiff cock, he nearly doubled over. You noticed instantly and repeated the gesture.

“Fuck,” his movements faltered and you chuckled darkly, “Baby, if you make me come in my sweats I might die of embarrassment,” he whined through gritted teeth.

“What if I wanna see you do it?”

Eddie closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to collect himself. “Nope. Uh-uh,” he looked back down with determination in his features. “I’m getting you off first. I’ve dreamt of this for years. I refuse to jizz in my pants before you come all over my hands,” he redoubled his efforts, tongue peeking out of his mouth slightly in concentration.

Your eyes flew open and your body tensed. Eddie began to feel your walls fluttering around his fingers. It was the most intriguing and arousing thing he’d ever experienced.

“Holy shit,” he gasped. “You about to come, sweetheart?”

You nodded and grabbed his shoulder, sitting up a little. “Kiss me, please?”

Eddie melted. You wanting to kiss him while you came was so insanely sexy and endearing at the same time.

“‘Course I will, baby. Come here,” you crashed into each other, lips brushing together between panting breaths. You had one hand in Eddie’s hair and the other had a vice grip on his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck! Eddie, I’m-,”

“I know, I know. Give it to me,” he kissed you hard and imagined he’d died and gone to heaven when he felt your whine against his lips. You tensed all over. Eddie felt your walls clamp down on his fingers. He was amazed when you got impossibly wetter and threw yourself back into his pillow, nearly screaming in pleasure.

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl,” Eddie brushed your hair out of your eyes, staying like that for a few minutes. After you came down from your high, he laid down beside you.

Eddie held up the hand he’d had inside you and admired his soaked fingers before licking them clean and moaning shamelessly. You looked at him fondly, raising your eyebrows at his dramatics.

“What? Can’t help it,” he said, as he made a show of licking up his palm. “You’re sweet as honey.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, turning to throw your thigh over his lap. He shuddered and you grinned up at him with lidded eyes. “I bet you taste just as sweet, big boy.” Your thigh traveled lower. Eddie groaned and bucked his hips to chase the sensation. “You gonna let me find out? I know I said I wanted to see you get these sweats dirty, but I think I want you in my mouth more,” you whispered filth directly into his ear while petting along his lower stomach the entire time.

“If you keep doing that, I can’t make any promises I won’t get these pants dirty either way,” he moaned, grabbing your thigh and grinding it into his crotch again.

“You didn’t answer me,” you responded, sitting up and positioning yourself between Eddie’s spread thighs. “Are you gonna let me find out how you taste?” You pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but a black lace bra, one left little to the imagination.

“Uh, yes? Fuck yes!” Eddie was pulling at his hair, nearly hysterical with desire. He was on the verge of embarrassing himself because he was so worked up. He scrambled to get his pants down without knocking you over.

“Eddie,” you laughed lightly, grabbing his hands. “Let me,” he nodded and crossed his hands over his chest, not sure where they should go. It’s not like he’s ever been in this situation before.

“Relax,” you said as your fingers dipped below the waistband of his boxers. Eddie met your gaze and nodded. You began pulling his pants down and he tried his best to control his breathing.

He groaned long and low when you finally freed him from his clothing, the cooler air in the van a delicious contrast to his burning skin.

“I knew it,” you purred, wasting no time getting your hands on him. Your touches were firm but gentle, running up and down his shaft. Eddie keened when your palm slid over his weeping head, smearing precum down his length. “I knew you were hiding a monster in those tight jeans.”

“M-monster? Really?” Eddie lifted his head off the pillow and searched your face to make sure you weren’t just mocking him.

“Are you kidding? This thing has gotta be close to eight inches, Eddie!” You stroked him slowly from base to tip as you spoke. “It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen, anyway.”

“It is?” He said, probably a little too eagerly. He was practically glowing under your praise. And you seemed to catch on to it.

“It is baby,” your voice was low and sultry. “The biggest and the prettiest,” Eddie bit into his fist, trying to stave off his creeping orgasm as you began massaging his balls with your other hand. “I can already tell I’m gonna want you in my mouth any chance I get.”

“Oh fuck, oh god!” Eddie’s hips jolted, “I might not survive your hand, much less your mouth!”

You grabbed the fist he’d been biting and intertwined your fingers. “Only one way to find out.”

That was the last thing you said before taking him halfway down in one go. Eddie squeezed your hand and shouted.

“S-shiiit! Y-you’re so,” he panted and squirmed, trying to string together a coherent thought. “You’re so perfect. Your mouth is heaven,” you hummed in appreciation of the praise and the vibrations felt like electricity dancing along Eddie’s spine. “Oh goddammit, I’m gonna come so fuckin’ fast.”

You pulled off of him to meet his eyes, “Do it,” you took his hand and placed it on the back of your head, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Eddie stroked your cheek affectionately, “You do. You really fuckin’ do.” His hand went back to your hair as you swallowed him down again. It wasn’t much longer before he began warning you.

“H-hey,” his voice rose in pitch the closer he got to his release, “L-listen, angel. I’m about to come. Pull off.”

“Want it in my mouth,” you said, kissing his hipbone as you kept stroking him. “Can I taste it? Please?”

“Goddammit, yes! Oh yes, please!”

You hummed around him and with just a few more bobs of your head, Eddie released straight into your throat.

You slowly bobbed your head, swallowing every time another wave of his release entered your mouth. After a few seconds, when you were sure he was done, you released him from your lips and sat up. Eddie’s vision returned just in time to watch you crawl over his body and lay onto his chest. Your hands carded through the damp curls around his face.

“Wanna know a secret, Eddie?” You whispered, tracing patterns into his scalp as his breathing finally slowed.

“Y-yeah.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever let anyone come in my mouth.”

Eddie’s face whipped over to look at you. “Honest?”

You smiled as you bit your lower lip and nodded, “Honest, baby.”

He shuddered at the nickname. “Mmm, keep callin’ me sweet names and you’ll never get rid of me, ya know?”

“That’s the idea, my love.”

Eddie made a growling sound as he clung to you like a koala. “You’re lethal. You know that?”

You didn’t answer but sat up far enough to envelop Eddie’s plush lips in a deep kiss. You made out like that for a while, until he realized he began to harden again. You seemed to notice it as well.

“Down, boy,” you joked, stroking his sides and nipping at his throat.

Eddie groaned. “Nothing’s going down as long as I’m this close to you,” he turns you both to your sides facing each other. “I can’t stop thinking about how warm and wet you are,” Eddie squeezed your sides and kissed along your collarbone. “You squeezed my fingers so tight when you came. I wanna feel you doing that around my cock, pretty mama.”

You wrapped your leg around his hip and whined. “Eddie I’m not taking your virginity in the back of your van,” his hand found your still-soaked entrance and began petting you while his mouth worked your neck over. You returned the favor by fisting his damp cock.

“Oh god, I don’t give a fuck where it happens,” he gasps as you run your palm over his sensitive head. “Please, I need it,” he bit and sucked the delicate skin of your neck, whining the entire time.

“No, Eddie,” your firm tone made him shiver. “You’ll get my hand and my mouth tonight. As many times as you need it,” your hand sped up as his fingers followed suit against your clit. “But you’ll get my pussy in my bed. So you can fuck me into the mattress properly.” Eddie came for the second time with a shout into your fist.

He looked up in time to see you lick it up from your palm like it was sugar. Eddie’s brain short-circuited. “I-I wanna make you come again,” he blurted out, still circling your clit. You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead into his.

“Keep doing that,” you encouraged. Eddie nodded and picked up speed. He watched you in a trance as you unraveled under his touch for the second time in one night. He felt like a god.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you do that,” Eddie kissed all over your face as you laughed. “Ethereal, stunning, a work of art!”

“That’s all you, pretty boy,” you kissed the bridge of his nose and he melted.

“By the way, I’m totally down for van fucking, ma’am,” he feigned irritation as he poked your sides playfully. “Making a twenty-one-year-old virgin wait even longer is just cruel.”

“Don’t pout, Eddie,” you cooed, cuddling into his side. “I promise you’ll be glad you waited.”

“If you insist, princess,” he sighed, pulling your body close.

“I do,” you yawned. “Now sleep.”

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“How soon after we wake up can we get the fuck outta here and preferably into your bed?”

Eddie let out an ‘oof!’ as you slapped a pillow over his face.

“Less talk. More sleep.”

“Yes, love.”

#virgin eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #jade writes smut #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie my beloved

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meowww-ffxiv · 4 months

Text

That Mordred was so nearsighted the world beyond seven yalms around him was a blur was, and always would be, an amusing shock to people who just found out.

Theodore once thought Mordred's refusal to wear corrective eyeglasses outside of delicate crafting was along the same vein of stubbornness that prevented him from telling people he had asthma unless he thought it would become a physical liability. Maybe it was. Mordred's mulishness zigzagged some...strange lines Theodore could not always understand, keen though they were to each other's feelings thanks to their Echoes. But really, by this point? He knew the cat kept the "I can't see" card in his sleeve for comedic effect.

And because he always produced those binoculars-on-a-stick with which he used to espy far-off things clearly with such a flourish so as to constitute an arcane gesture, Theodore knew for a second fact that he enjoyed settling into a mood of nosiness.

"You are so dramatic," Theodore said, not looking up from his book. Behind him, the couple having the loudest breakup in the Northern Empty, right there on the far end of the Last Stand, had kicked it up a notch. "You know they are only twenty steps away and could very well take their business over here and fling you into the ocean?"

Mordred lifted the binoculars from his eyes for a moment to give Theodore a look. "They're not going to," he said with certainty. "Not when they're getting that heated. What's a thesis defense? Why does it matter that the fellow failed his?"

Theodore shrugged. He had only two weeks to finish this Hingan martial arts novel before he needed to return it to Hancock, but it was becoming impossible to concentrate.

"You're just like all the other boys!" the young hyur woman screamed, her voice cracking with passion.

A table over, a gleaner leaned over and told Mordred, "A thesis defense is like a final, presentation-style quiz from a chosen committee to make sure the scholar who wrote the thesis they were defending was actually knowledgeable in their field. It is a formality, really. The thesis would have been approved before then."

"That's a good way to verify their expertise," Mordred replied.

"A tropical storm must be on its way to Old Sharlayan if you are complimenting anything this country does," Theodore said.

"Yes, well, you're just like all the other girls!" the Au Ra boyfriend who failed the pre-described formality shouted back. "Shallow and clout-chasing and--"

"Don't you dare!" his soon-to-be-ex shrieked.

Mordred put the binoculars back over his eyes. With the other hand, he fumbled around the table.

Theodore looked up from his novel long enough to pull the cup of hollandaise sauce away from the danger of dirty fingers dipping into them, then pushed the plate of cashews under Mordred's questing reach. He popped two of them into his mouth with a grunt of thanks.

"Poor fellow," the gleaner sighed. "Risch is a brilliant young man. It's well known to everyone that he is a terrible speaker, though. The lad probably lost his nerves during his thesis defense and bombed it that way."

"That's a shame," Mordred said with real sympathy.

And then, in a truly gender-roles-defying moment, the Auri young man named Risch started bawling.

"Oh pumpkin," said his almost-ex-but-apparently-not almost immediately. "Oh, sweet love. Come now."

Theodore closed the book and set it aside, then turned sideways in his chair to very surreptitiously look at the couple. There was no denying this unfolding drama was more fun than his novel, at this point.

The hyuran young woman had circled around the table and had her arms around her boyfriend, who was still sobbing hysterically with his hands over his face. She must be saying something because Theodore saw his horns bob up and down as he nodded, but could not make out the words.

The tables around them, naturally all occupied because this was the Last Stand, seemed to relax. One girl dressed in red scholarly robe two seats over started clapping, only for her blue-robed friend to quickly punch her in the arm.

"Ah, young love," the gleaner sighed. "Hopefully, that will be their last fight in awhile."

"I--" Mordred was interrupted by a fit of coughing, because of course he would, he just ate cashews, he coughed when eating most nuts, but did he order a plate of it? Yes. Theodore sighed and poured him a glass of lemonade from their pitcher and handed it to him.

Then he picked his novel back up.

"You're not the least bit stirred by that?" Mordred asked him, squinting over the lip of the glass. "Pretty cold."

"We used to see that weekly in the Scholasticate," Theodore replied as he flipped to the last page he was on. Depressingly closer to the beginning than to the middle, let alone the end. Maybe he should just have sex with Hancock and slip in an extension to this book-borrowing in the afterglow, at this rate; make it two treats for the hassle of one trip to Kugane. "The youngsters here have nothing on the youngsters from prestigious Halonic backgrounds. Our grudges resulted in girls ripping out their rivals' fingernails."

Mordred said to the gleaner, "I heard there was a study about the effect of prolonged lack of exposure to sunlight resulting in clinical insanity. D'you know anything about that?"

Theodore sighed.

#mon writing #meowdred surana #theodore pentaghast

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davekat-sucks · 1 year

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do you have any favorite hcs for any characters? could be looks, hobbies, identities, anything! i like hearing abt peoples hcs

John as an adult, grows up having the best buff body and mustache. Jade and Nepeta's fursona are rivals in roleplay chats, but actually treat each other nicely when they meet in real life. Kanaya likes to make terrariums for the little grubs that hatched. To let them enjoy and experience the closest thing to outdoors if she can't bring them out of the caverns. Eridan doesn't know how to actually use other old weapons he collects (harpoons, shotgun, etc). His Crosshairs is basically a big laser beam, so he can aim easily because of that. Eridan can do text roleplay like Nepeta, but he does it like he is writing a book and tends to make long paragraphs to describe the situation he and the other player would be in. Even in text, his OC is also dramatic as he is. It makes Nepeta bored on reading all that when they tried to RP each other. Eridan knows and loves all the sea shanties. He will sing them any chance he gets during a FLARP session with his crew. He forces others to join along with him. Nepeta does wish to dress up like other FLARPers, but has trouble making her own outfits compared to others like Vriska, Terezi, Tavros, Eridan, and Aradia. Feferi, much like The Condesce and with Meenah, does like to bake. But has a hard time trying to do it in her underwater home, so she would usually go to Eridan to use his oven. He obliges and taste tests her pastries, despite his own worries of gaining weight. Dirk does like Boys Love visual novel games, even the trashy ones. He proudly puts visual novels as a part of video games. When buying a scuttlebug aka a car on Alternia, you do not need a license. You just immediately get to drive the car. If someone is in the road and they get hit by someone driving it, it's their fault for not looking both ways or the driver's for not watching the road. The trolls will get confused hearing the humans need to pass some test to purchase a vehicle. All scuttlebugs are equipped with Auto Pilot drive for those who are lazy to be on the wheel. Alternia does have brown cows and they do indeed produce chocolate milk. Had been trying to think about what instruments the trolls and Alpha Kids would play since I kind of miss that with the Beta kids when they played music. So far only got is like Karkat: Tuba (a Sousaphone as he calls it based on an AU that Shelby and her friend talked about) Terezi: Harpsichord (based on her music themes having this instrument) Tavros: Guitar Aradia: Theremin Kanaya: Harp Vriska: Electric Guitar (obvs) Equius: Double bass Nepeta: Bongo or Keyboard (get it cause the meme cats play those) Gamzee: Clown horns (what else?) Eridan: Viola (mirrors Rose's violin as viola's strings have C, G, D, and A on them) FeferI: Hydraulophone Roxy: Cello or fiddle Jane: Accordion (to play off her being like prankster that she would play an instrument that shows her playfulness) Jake: Flute (sucks at the bass guitar that was left behind from Grandma Harley) Just some that I can think of as of now.

#Homestuck #homestuck headcanons #Homestuck headcanon #headcanon #headcanons

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onewomancitadel · 2 years

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🤡

Because this is the only ask responding to the meme my very first reaction was... is this ask meant to be making fun of me... what does this arcane clown symbol mean... and then I remembered lol

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Sadly I think I am the funniest person in the world so there are a few. It also helps that both Jaune and Cinder are two (at times) rather sarcastic and observational characters. There is a lot of intentional humour in The Distance Which Fools the Skimming Eye - sometimes from the absurdity of the emotional scenarios. I'm a bit shy to show lots of direct lines though lol.

One I was thinking about recently was when Cinder finally cracks in Chapter 2 and despite the seriousness of their previous interactions there's a degree of perhaps - banality to her refrain which is sort of funny, which is sort of like two normal people having a normal conversation, which makes it funny to me:

That's the type of thing I find funny, is when you've got serious stakes and a sort of mildly absurd brooding dramatic character (Byronic heroine!) and then a level sweet to the sour. I also get a lot of humour out of the idea of, say, Salem grilling Cinder about her supposed secret boyfriend. Anything that can be described or recontextualised in a mundane fashion is amusing to me when it's a fantastical scenario (I also think it's a great way of figuring out if you know what you're doing).

But on a more serious level, what I really enjoy is that idea that it's the environment/circumstance that is keeping these two people apart who probably would seriously get on really well. So the humour is often a way to realise that, or at least the dryness, or something chafing there that is playful and desperate to get out - so in many ways I think humour serves a very, very functional purpose in a story like this written exactly to my tastes. When you can share a laugh with someone or have a bit of awareness that transcends whatever is pressing on you or have this very, very clear realisation that - oh we actually get on quite well, I wonder what that life would've looked like - it's sort of saddening and bright and fun. It might seem like it's only there to set-up their respective character awareness of other people/other peoples' romantic feelings, but when Jaune and Cinder are gossiping about Emerald and Mercury in Chapter 5, it's also like - fuck you two would so fucking cute in any other circumstance, wouldn't you. What about this life. What about this one.

So the funny asides - she smells like wet dog - are certainly there to amuse ME and only ME because everything is about ME (sarcasm but sort of true for fanfic), it's also working on a humanistic level, particularly relevant for an enemies-to-lovers pairing, and particularly relevant for relieving tension or stress, and I think also particularly relevant because Jaune's much more than comic relief - and I think you can demonstrate that when you've got them being funny together in a non-slapstick way.

Now, for a non-Skimming Eye example - all the aforementioned is still true - I think my favourite would have to be this, and I have to provide the entire passage for context:

which, not to toot mine own horn, is still some of my favourite dialogue I've written altogether. It's from The One Known by Many Names aka Somehow Even More Self-Indulgent Than That Other Fucking Novel-length Fic. (Also if anybody clicks through please keep in mind it's rated Explicit).

It's funny. It makes me laugh. Cinder is allowed to be little a condescending to the heroes but not too cruel, as a treat. Again, you've got that humanistic element here too, and breaking the tension a bit - and also an absurd situation, which makes it funny - and also that element that Cinder can still be Cinder even if she's going through a redemption arc (this motivates a lot of my characterisation for her chiefly in Skimming Eye) and Jaune can still be Jaune (or you can bring out even more of his character in relief) and they can both be interesting and themselves in a romance between them and in new situations.

So I really like humour for a lot of different reasons - I mean, I love my fair share of puns and wordplay and things turning out exactly how you wanted, just not the way you expected, and there is ironic humour there! That's the type of stuff I love forever and ever and ever. The humanistic element is one of the most underestimated points, though. Humour isn't just there for the Whedonesque quips and to spoil emotional moments - it is emotion, it is human, but you don't need to be self-conscious/self-aware, feeling the need to undercut your story with it - it IS character, it IS story, it IS theme, and most of all, if you can't describe a chapter like, 'She steals her stepmother's carkeys to impress her sort of boyfriend with an expensive car and go hooning' then is it even fun? Lololol. That's just me because I'm silly, not everyone needs to do that of course.

Thank you for playing along, I actually ended up really enjoying responding to this. <3 <3 <3 I'd still love to play the ask game if anyone feels like it... 🥺

#seraphina's asks #user: anonymouse #the distance which fools the skimming eye #my silly little stories

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ort-history · 2 years

Text

The Last Unicorn

That’s A Lot of Death Talk, My Dude

For those who know me in personal life, it will come as no surprise that the 1982 animated cult-classic The Last Unicorn, based on Peter S. Beagle’s novel of the same name, is a favorite of mine, if only because of its ability to make me shiver as I relive the traumatic memories of watching it as a child. It had been my older cousin’s favorite movie and, when she had finally deemed me worthy, she decided to share it with me in all its terrifying and dark glory.

To say I was enthralled is an understatement.

I am, once more to no surprise of any of my close friends or family, unfathomable curious when it comes to the morbid and macabre; I keep and display the bones collected during long walks through the woods of my childhood, I read book after book on death rituals and rites around the world, I follow YouTube channels such as ‘Ask a Mortician’ (and maybe even own a book or two by Caitlin Doughty herself), and I am endlessly fascinated and drawn to media that confronts and explores death and mortality.

So when I first saw the harpy in The Last Unicorn devour Mommy Fortuna while Schmendrick the Magician and the Unicorn watched on in horror (though more so Schmendrick, to the Unicorn’s credit), I thought to myself;

“Well, this just can’t get any better.”

And then, of course, the Unicorn is forcibly transformed into a human woman and proceeds to say the most haunting lines that have maybe ever been spoken in, what is supposed to be, a children’s animated film.

But we’ll come back to that in a moment.

What really must be done, in order for these lines to have the same impact they had on a young me all those years ago, is to take a step back and look at the major components of The Last Unicorn as a story.

The main plot of the story is as follows: The Unicorn lives alone in a lilac wood and she is old. Super old. So old, she doesn’t even know it - how could she? She is immortal.

One day, after overhearing a duo of hunters speaking about how she is ‘the last of her kind,’ she sets out to search for the other unicorns, convinced that, because they cannot die, they must still be out there somewhere. She meets a butterfly, who spends way too much time reading classic literature and watching Shakespear, and who tells her how ‘the Red Bull’ rounded up the other unicorns and drove them to the ends of the Earth.

The Unicorn begins her search for the Red Bull, meeting Schmedrick the Magician and Molly Grue on the way, before eventually ending up at the castle of King Haggard (who looks about as nice as his name suggests), and his only son, Prince Lir. During the journey there, the Unicorn is confronted by the Red Bull and, in order to save her, Schmendrick turns her into a human woman, a creature that the bull has no interest in. It leaves, disappearing back into the night, and the group is saved and all is well, yada yada yada. Right?

Well, actually.

As I mentioned before, the Unicorn in this story is immortal. And she is beautiful. The book describes her as a creature like no other; not simply a horse with a horn, but as something with an endless grace and ethereal beauty that can compare to no other creature. She cannot die by natural causes and she can feel no regret, for she will live forever and thus has no use for it.

“I can feel sorrow,” she says at one point, when speaking to Schmendrick about his life choices. “But it’s not the same thing.”

So how horrible it is, then, to be thrust from a body that can never die and that is endless in all its glory, and then trapped in a body that will wither and fade. To be forced to confront a mortality that was never to be a reality for you. Up until she is turned human, the Unicorn has no cause to fear death as anything other than a vague notion or a rare possibility should she meet something intent on killing her. It is something that does not apply to her and, thus, not something she even considers thinking about.

Until now.

It is now that we get what, I consider to be, the most horrifying lines of any children’s movie;

“I can feel this body dying all around me” followed quickly by “I’m afraid of this body. More afraid than I was of the Red Bull. Afraid.”

She is suddenly mortal and feels it; she can feel the decay of the body she now inhabits, can feel its ugliness in the face of her lost beauty, and can feel the pain of slowly inching towards a death she has never had to confront before. To the rest of the characters, she is a beautiful woman; even Prince Lir, who they meet shortly after the Unicorn’s transformation, falls almost instantly in love with her. Yet, to the Unicorn, it is not the physical attributes of this body that make it ugly, but its finite existence.

What a troubling concept to confront your young viewers with; the inevitability of death and decay, seen through the eyes of one that has never had to even think about it before, much like the average child.

As the story goes on, the Unicorn, now trapped in this new body and renamed ‘The Lady Amalthea,’ begins to forget about her life as the Unicorn. She eventually begins to return Lir’s feelings and, as the story reaches its climax and the group is once again confronted by the Red Bull (who turns out to be a servant of Haggard, who desires to keep the unicorns to himself since they are the only things that make him happy), the Unicorn/Lady Amalthea makes a desperate plea to remain human and mortal, so that she may grow old and die with Lir.

And then, of course, Schmendrick’s magic does its thing and turns her back into an immortal Unicorn again, only this time she has memories of being mortal and can now regret. Which she does. A lot.

In the end, she drives back the Red Bull, saves her friends, frees the other unicorns, which have been trapped in the sea by Haggard and the Red Bull, and everyone goes their separate ways. The Unicorn returns to her woods, now having been mortal and regretting the life she could have had with Lir as a human.

She is different from the other Unicorns and can no longer live in the same ignorance that she once possessed.

And that’s it - the story ends with her returning, leaving behind friends and a lost love that will someday die after leading fulfilling lives, while she quietly goes on, existing forever and never forgetting.

What a strange note to leave this story on; a story that, at its surface, seems like it should simply be a fantastical adventure about Unicorns and magic Red Bulls. Of magicians and fairy tales and talking trees with enormous honkers (just watch the film).

Yet, really this story is about life. And death. About living a life that is fulfilling and about confronting the fact that you will grow older and you will die. It is not only the Unicorn that must face these things.

Molly Grue, a woman who has spent her life chasing the fantasy of adventure and youth only to end up the wife of a sleazy traveler who thinks himself a ‘Robin Hood’ figure, is one example of the inevitability of growing older and the consequences of denying it. She is enraged upon first meeting the Unicorn; she has been waiting to see one all her life and is devastated that one has shown up now, when she is middle aged and ‘past her prime,’ if you will, since Unicorns are only ever supposed to show up to young beautiful virgins. She thinks of herself as homely and used up, almost insulted by the Unicorn’s arrival to her now.

In the original book, Schmendrick is also immortal, though cursed to be this way until he can become a true magician. He is the opposite of the Unicorn; he is a creature that has always known that death with come, but has had it taken away. Where the Unicorn sees immortality as beautiful, Schmedrick sees it as a burden. He will watch all that he loves grow old and die, while he lives on; life has no purpose to him unless it may someday end.

“Whatever can die is beautiful — more beautiful than a unicorn, who lives forever, and who is the most beautiful creature in the world. Do you understand me?”

In the end, the Unicorn herself is left with the aftermath of being mortal, and the understanding of death and emotion and regret, though she still ends her story as an immortal creature that will live on forever. She has experienced the true depths of living life to its fullest in the shortest of time, but must then move forward knowing that such a world is not hers to live in. As she prepares to bid farewell to Molly and Schmedrick, she speaks of her fears of going home, as she is no longer the same as who she was.

“I have been mortal, and some part of me is mortal yet.” She says. “

I am full of tears and hunger and the fear of death, although I cannot weep, and I want nothing, and I cannot die. I am not like the others now, for no unicorn was ever born who could regret, but I do. I regret.”

#the last unicorn #Animation Station #death mention tw

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wistfulcynic · 3 years

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The letter’s route, please!!!

Right. So. This is in reference to the letter Mary Margaret sends Emma at the end of The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan). This letter follows a very roundabout path to get from A to B, and Krystal wanted to know if that was to conceal Emma's whereabouts or if it was just how the mail travelled. The answer is yes and yes.

Everyone buckle in.

Here's the passage that describes the letter's route:

This letter travelled by mail coach from the Haven general store—where Miss Blanchard posted it to the care of a P.O. Box in San Francisco—to the main post office in Casper. From there it went via train to Cheyenne, where it was loaded onto the mail car of the Union Pacific Railway and thence made its journey to the west coast. In San Francisco its fortunes underwent a curious change, for it was redirected by a clerk there, in accordance with instructions, and placed back on the Union Pacific, headed this time for Denver. From Denver it voyaged onwards to Kansas City, then Chicago, and finally to New York, where it abandoned train travel forever in favour of a steam ship bound for Buenos Aires.

Upon arrival at port it was placed in the charge of a courier who carried it along with a scant handful of others over the rough roads of the Argentinian coast to Puerto Santa Cruz and then inland, where it finally, many months after its departure, came to rest at a tiny, dusty outpost in southern Patagonia.

This fic is set at the turn of the 20th century, when mail coaches, trains, and steam ships were the only options for transporting international post. The Transcontinental Railroad by then had been carrying mail for several decades and the branch railway lines helped distribute it to smaller towns, from where it would then go by coach or horseback to some sort of collection point where people would stop by when they could to pick it up. At that time door-to-door mail delivery didn't exist.

Which of course doesn't answer the question of why MM's letter first went to a San Francisco P.O. Box before doubling back and going to the east coast to catch its steam liner. For that we need to mine the backstory of Emma and Killian's relationship and how they managed to keep it a complete secret for three years. Fleshing this out in original novel form is going to be my NaNoWriMo project this year so I've given it a bit of thought.

Emma lives in a cabin next to an outcrop of rock. This rock seems solid but there is actually a gap in it, which leads to a canyon that's invisible from any road. On the night they meet, Killian is injured and he gets lost. He ends up in this canyon by chance and his horse finds the way out, leading him to Emma who takes him in and bandages him up.

You can pretty much guess where the story goes from there.

The canyon then becomes the way that Killian enters and exits Haven without anyone seeing him, and also where he keeps his horse when he's with Emma. It's the way they leave when they go to Argentina. They head west through the canyon to Idaho, Nevada, then to San Francisco where they set up the P.O. Box (and Emma writes to Mary Margaret to tell her of its existence) and get themselves new clothes and new identities. Armed with those, they get on a train--much like the letter does--and travel to NYC, then to Buenos Aires on a steam ship of their own.

I believe it was possible at the time to sail down the west coast of the USA and South America and around Cape Horn to reach Argentina. But that route has always been notoriously difficult and also uncomfortable, compared to the trains of the time and the steam ships that operated in the Atlantic. It makes sense that Emma and Killian would choose the latter, both for practical purposes and to evade the bounty hunters on Killian's tail.

So, TL;DR yes and yes. The letter took the route it did as part of the way Emma and Killian concealed their whereabouts and also because that was the way mail travelled in those days.

I deeply love and appreciate questions of this nature because I basically always have a backstory, even for one-shots, and will take any excuse to expound on them at great length. Thanks, K ❤️❤️❤️.

The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan) is my contribution to the @cshistfic event! Read it HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3.

#cshistfic #captain swan #kmomof4 #the outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)#profdanglaisstuff #asked and answered #lovely shipmates

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ramblingcj · 4 years

Text

Luz wrote the Azura books

Oh hey, its me again with another random Owl House theory! One that’s based on nothing but my love for time travel and timey timey shenanigans. Ok, so on to the theory that Luz wrote the Azura books.

What do we know about the Azura books so far?

According to the wiki, she is a witch who “fights for peace across magical lands” embarking on quests and fighting evil.

She is a character with tan skin and green hair.

The cover for what looks like the first edition of the book that is shown features an older witch dressed in red robes and a small dog-like creature.

Azura has a rival called Hecate who she’ll later befriend.

Her enemy or one of her enemies is a serpent called the Gildersnake. It has glowing eyes and horns. Its biggest weakness is dying.

There’s also Malin Gael, the soothsayer character that Amity drew fanart of. Not much is known about them. (also sidenote: first time I heard the name I misheard it as Marvin Gaye, so there’s that)

The books are somehow published in both the human realm and the demon realm.

The parallells between the books and Luz life are pretty obvious. I haven’t checked, but I can’t imagine that there isn’t already several posts here on tumblr or a few youtube videos about the subject.

_________________________________________________________

Let’s start with the obvious ones:

The elderly witch and the little dog-like creature that accompanies Azura, which is an obvious parallell to Eda and King.

Azura’s rival is someone that she will later befriend, which is what inspires Luz to attempt to befriend Amity.

Azura has tan/darker skin similiar to Luz and green hair that’s similiar to Amity (and, yes, I know its not her natural hair color).

Before even meeting Amity, Luz ends up describing her perfectly based on nothing but a character from the Azura books: “...a bad girl chosen one with black nail polish and a mysteriously withdrawn attitude. ‘I act like I don’t care, but I secretly do.”

Heck, she even describes herself really well when she wonders if she should model herself after Azura who is “full of optimism and goodness“. Which based on this theory means that Azura is modeled after Luz who in turn use Azura as a guide for navigating the Demon Realm when she first arrived.

We learn in Sense and Insensitivity that Luz had being an author as a backup plan in case she couldn’t be a witch (again, full of optimism). Even going as far as having selected a specific picture for the “about the author” page on her future book. And I don’t doubt that Luz is talented enough to sit down and craft an elaborate world full of witches and adventures. She has been shown to have a vivid imagination.

_________________________________________________________

Luz being obsessed with the books is also a big plot point in the show, the first episode even opens with Luz giving a book report on the Good Witch Azura book. And Luz only ended up in the demon realm in the first place because Owlbert inadvertently stole the book and she wanted to get it back. And whenever Luz tries to evoke Azura it kinda goes badly at first:

She gets conned into a fake magic quest, which could’ve gone badly. But she ends up getting a valuable lesson from Eda about choosing your own destiny.

She challenges Amity to a duel despite knowing no offensive spells and it goes about as well as you expect. But it also leads to a moment where she gets to talk to Amity and show her that she is working hard (something Amity respects) to become a witch. Which I think ends up being the moment that Amity is, at least, intrigued by Luz.

She tries to befriend Amity like Azura befriended her rival and it goes....well...not good at first. In fact, its kinda a mess that almost ends up with them both being sewn into a book. But it also has Luz making Amity laugh and then lends her a book. Which does lead to them being on friendlier terms.

Then there is the thorn vault. Its a move that both Luz and Amity tries with disastrous results. But one that also ends up strenthening not only the bond between Amity and Luz, but also the bond between Luz and Willow.

Basically, every time Luz tries to evoke Azura in some way, it goes badly at first. But the end result actually ends up being a good one.

________________________________________________________

The main idea here is that at some point in the future, Luz writes the Azura novels. Perhaps to set the whole thing in motion.

She needed her younger self to be obsessed with the books in order for her life to go in the direction it needed to go so that everything would transpire the way it did. And she knew that younger Luz would use the books as a way to navigate the Demon Realm when she first arrived.

Why Luz would want that is the big question though, but it’s one that I don’t think would be answered until the later seasons of the show.

#the owl house #toh theory #toh #luz noceda #toh eda #amity blight #just a random theory #as far as I know the show hasn't really done anything relating to time travel and such #so I'd say this is a crack theory for now #Might be wrong might be right #Doesn't really matter #Its fun to think about

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blishwix · 3 years

Text

❝ WE ARE ALL WEARING MASKS. THAT IS WHAT MAKES US INTERESTING ❞

huh, who’s LUKE MITCHELL? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually JIMBO “WICK” BLISHWICK VI. he is a 35 year old PUREBLOOD wizard who is CEO OF A WIXEN TECH & MEDIA COMPANY. he is known for being CALCULATING, FRAUDULENT, HEDONISTIC, CONCEITED, and AMORAL but also CHARISMATIC, AMBITIOUS, INNOVATIVE, METICULOUS, and PERSONABLE, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song IT’S LONELY AT THE TOP BY BIG BAD VOODOO DADDY and STYLISHLY RIPPED JEANS AND SUEDE SHOES, PURELY AESTHETIC AND MISLEADING SOCIAL MEDIA FEED, NEATLY TRIMMED BEARD AND SANDALWOOD MUSK, HORN RIMMED GLASSES WITH SMUDGES ON THE LENS, MOLESKIN FULL OF ENDLESS CODE AND FUTURE TECH INNOVATIONS, EXTRAVAGANT PENTHOUSE OVERLOOKING THE CITY, WHISKEY STONES AND EMPTY DECANTERS, and CHARMING PERSONABLE SMILES WITH MALICIOUS INTENT HIDDEN UNDERNEATH THE SURFACE. i hear he is aligned with THE DEATH EATERS, so be sure to keep an eye on him.

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Jimbo Dashiel Bartholomew Blishwick VI NICKNAME(S): Wick, Jim, Dash, Bart (yes he legit will go by any of these) AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 35, 02/16/1994 OCCUPATION: Tech & Media Mogul GENDER: Cis Man PRONOUNS: He/Him/His HOMETOWN: Dallas, Texas CURRENT RESIDENCE: London, I guess ALMA MATTER: Ilvermorny, Horned Serpent BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

BIOGRAPHY

MEET JIMBO BLISHWICK: THE YOUNG AMERICAN CHANGING THE WIZARDING WORLD ONE STATUS UPDATE AT A TIME.

I’m not sure exactly what to expect when the invitation comes in. It seems archaic to be communicating over owl. There was even a part of me that thought I should revert to the “email” form which my subject is so fond of. What if the wixen tech mogul’s fondness for typing meant he had poor penmanship? To my delight not only was Mr. Blishwick’s handwriting clear as day, but it came with a gleeful acceptance to be interviewed. So it was on that high note that I made my way to Blishwix HQ in London to meet with the illustrious CEO. What I had expected was some pristine corporate office with dark leather and wood accents, sterile and admittedly cold and disconnected from the world. What I was met with was surprising. Blishwix is anything but old school in its style. Much like the young hip branding that accompanies its many products and services, the corporate HQ of Blishwix is sleek, modern and very accessible. It’s a open space of mostly glass walls, the bull pen dotted with standing desks and stability balls replacing wheeling chairs. Towards the entrance to the main floor there is a food bar, one which changes weekly I’m told. This week it’s a cereal bar, last week it was a sushi bar, the next week it’s expected to be a pho bar. Employees are scattered around it with tablets and laptops, giddily conversing around mouthfuls of rainbow marshmallows and corn flakes. There’s also several corners tucked away with velvet cushions where some team members curl up with headphones and e-readers or handheld video game consoles. Designated comfort zones, the tour guide describes them as. It’s the Blishwix goal to make sure the employees are all comfortable, so whenever they get stressed out or overwhelmed, there’s always a little place they can escape to in order to calm their nerves. In truth, Blishwix looks less like a company and more like an urban hang out for pretty hipsters in crop tops and flannels. Surely the big man on top would have a more professional set up, right?

Even the display in the bull pen did not prepare me for Jimbo Blishwick’s personal office. It’s one of a few closed off areas to the side of the floor, wide with tall glass walls over looking the bull pen, and predominately empty save for another bean sack, a slim desktop atop a standing desk, and a row of bookcases displaying dozens upon dozens of novels, all of which I can’t place and among the only print media to be found anywhere in Blishwix. “They’re muggle books,” says a voice from behind. When I turn and get a first glance at the figure leaning casually against the glass door to the office, my gut instinct is that this is just another one of those twenty something year olds squeezing stress balls on the work floor. He’s tall, wearing a handmade beanie in a burnt orange color -- One that is, frankly, not a good pair with his golden hair. His neatly trimmed beard and horned rimmed glasses speak of an elegance that doesn’t exactly match the acid wash tattered jeans or the faded t shirt worn under an oversized cream cardigan. The shirt is colorful and bears a phrase that doesn’t come easy to me. Woodstock. Perhaps this is another “muggle thing”. It isn’t until he draws close enough that I recognize the bare footed man. It’s Jimbo Blishwick himself. “Call me Wick,” he easily responds to my surprised expression, knowing full well he wasn’t what I expected. Instead of holding out a hand in a formal handshake and then pulling up a chair for the interview, he engulfs me in a hug and ushers me into the love sack. It’s awkward at first, but eventually I melt into it. It’s just as comfortable as it looks, and their use in the designated comfort zones make more sense to me now. Wick opts to sit crosslegged on the floor, a large coffee in one hand and a bowl of granola balanced on his thighs. He sips the coffee as my eyes wander the space, finding small and interesting little things to ask him about.

The first thing that draws my attention is a set of crystals sitting on the top of his desk, and when I ask he lets out a howling laugh that echos throughout the office, surely drawing the attention of his hard playing -- and hardly working -- employees beyond the glass walls. “Oh, I had a bit of a headache,” he says with a somewhat amused grin. “My wife said they might help.” The wife in question isn’t some darling stay at home mom you might expect. In Wick’s own words: She’s the reason the “Boss Girl” phrase was invented. Selene Blishwick is as shrewd a business person as her husband is, and perhaps a bit more progressive. As I attempt to shift a bit in the cushion, Wick relays some confidential information about some of their upcoming branding collaborations. Each is more unconventional than the last, and they all have one vital thing in common: Selene Blishwick is the one that found them. I’d go into detail, but Wick swears it would become a marital problem if I spill the big secrets before they’re due to come out. Instead he offers a sly grin and taps a single finger to his lips. “Our little secret, then you can be the cool hip one among your friends who knew all about it before it came out.” An exciting proposition, though I realize that I do need something I can share with the public from this visit, and as Wick’s bowl of dry granola gets emptier I fear I’m running out of time. So I set out to do what I’d planned: a profile on the CEO of Wizarding London’s premiere tech company.

When I ask Wick what was the event that kickstarted his long journey to bringing the wixen world into the 21st Century, he answers in one simple phrase: “A pen pal program.” I was surprised to say the least, but it all became more transparent as I urged him to elaborate. What ensues is a story about the overweight son of a MACUSA politician who was teased and bullied all his life and struggled to maintain platonic connections. “I had no friends,” he says, a sad truth but it comes out with a light and airy laugh. “But I didn’t make it quite easy for people to be my friend.” Despite his laid back and easy going charm, Wick reveals a disabling shyness and insecurity that kept him from engaging with the world. The only one privy to his thoughts and personality was the journal he carried with him wherever he went. “I always thought I sounded better on print than in person. I could be whoever I wanted to be on paper -- Handsome, smart, clever and fun. I just could never bring that outwards, you know?” I think we can all sympathize with the young Blishwick’s plight. It didn’t help that he had quite the shoes to fill. Sixth in his line, the Jimbos that came before the media mogul were all tied to American politics. They’re all charming and ambitious men, but Wick says he just didn’t have it in him to be a lawmaker. “Big Daddy” -- yes, that’s the moniker his father, Jimbo the fifth, goes by -- “He’s just built to be a Senator, I’m just the apple that fell a little too far from that tree.” Secluded and distant, educators began to worry that Wick’s development would be halted by the lack of socialization between him and his peers. So one Ilvermorny professor had suggested Wick be one of a handful of students elected to partake in a cross continental penpal program. “Fabricating friendship,” he called it. What they didn’t know is that the program would lead to a lot more. When I ask him who his first penpal is, if it’s someone he still has direct contact with, he lets another one of those amusing grins slip. “Oh yeah, very much so. I’m actually married to her.”

A fifth year at Ilvermorny, Wick was matched with a Hogwarts student a handful of years younger than him by the name of Selene Rowle. According to Wick, their correspondence lasted throughout both of their schooling and beyond, until he had taken a chunk out of his trust fund in order to travel to the United Kingdom to meet in person. He says that’s the only time he used his family’s money to get where he is now -- literally using it to transport across the Atlantic. Leaving behind his family’s estate in Texas and the promising job at MACUSA his father had acquired for him, Wick came to London in order to meet his long distance friend for the first time. The only person “who really knew what he was about” he says. I ask if it was for romantic reasons. He thinks about it while he sips his drink. “I guess in hindsight it does seem a little romantic.” Whatever his reasons, Wick came and he never turned back. He said that one of the first times they interacted in person, he and his future bride had lamented on their past communication and the long waits between letters. “We felt like we’d left things off on cliff hangers so often, and you’d have to wait forever just to get some kind of answer to those burning questions the last letter gave you. It was one of the most frustrating things.” The pair wondered what it would have been like if there had been a more instantaneous way to talk with wizards across the globe. After all, Wick had concluded, the muggles did it just fine. During his teen years, the Texan said he had grown very interested in what nonmagical civilization was like. A “No-Maj Studies Class”, as they call the Muggle Studies program in the states, had a unit on the technological advances of the nonmagical community during much of the modern era. The professors tried to teach the students that this was all building towards a very dangerous threat to the magical community: exposure and the fast spreading of information over the internet. Wick saw something different. “As I thought about how I wished I had a better gateway to my penpal during my teen years, I just kept thinking about how muggles had that already figured out. They could instantly send letters to anyone anywhere in the world. No long wait times for traveling owls or anything like that. It was instantaneous.... And why shouldn’t we be like that?”

It was this very thought that birthed the company the Blishwicks lead now.

So how do you bring the magical world safely into the 21st Century as dictated by the nonmagical? That was no easy feat. For his part, Wick said he had to learn all about something that didn’t exist in their world, something that didn’t interact well with magic. And how do you study muggle tech without magic interfering? Simple: You “become a muggle”. That’s when I realized there was a book I recognized on his eclectic shelf of reading material. Daisy Hookum’s best seller My Life as a Muggle. It’s the first book on the shelf, in the most pristine condition. A first edition, and it’s even signed by the author herself, though Wick doesn’t remember the meeting. It has a simple message in it: I hope you enjoy the time you spend in the nonmagical world and make memories as fond as my own. “Oh yeah,” he laughs, “I did tell her I was also voluntarily giving up magic in order to help kickstart my company.” He says it with an air of unfamiliarity, like he only vaguely remembers the moment. Still, he presses on with the story. A controversial choice for the son of a self proclaimed “conservative-traditional” pureblood senator, Wick was shortly disowned by the American Blishwicks for his choice to give up his magic for two and a half years to live among the muggles. But it had purpose. “I may have lied my way into an internship with a tech company in Edingbrugh. I was trying to learn as much as I could about this muggle innovation. If I wanted to create something similar for our community, I needed to master their version.” He says it took more than the two years he gave himself to live among them, and he’s still studying it to this day, but after that amount of time he had the ground work he needed to then create his tech and media empire. The biggest obstacle wasn’t even in creating the highly secret magically encrypted network which allows smart phones to be used in the wizarding world. No, for Wick the biggest hurdle to pass over was the longstanding traditional values the community had. “I think there’s an innate fear in not just advancing the community, but in mirroring any sort of progress than the muggles have done. There’s nothing wrong with it, I mean we have adapted enough of their inventions into our own world already so why not take it a step further?” He refers to radio and electric hook ups that appeared in a lot of wixen homes in the past century.

Blishwix started out small, creating and selling smart phones and desktops primarily with the idea in mind to change the way we communicate. Email was one of those first muggle digital contraptions that made its way into the wixen mainstream and has stayed, but within a short decade the company’s offerings expanded to mirror exactly what the digital world of the muggles looks like now. It’s becoming more and more rare to see wixen without a Loquix* in hand, or a Blishwix desktop at home. The Wixpix social media app, in which users post photos taken from the cameras on their cellular devices and add witty captions which can then be “liked” or “commented” on by users across the globe, continues to grow in popularity. And now the media and tech giant is rolling out a “streaming platform” -- a sort of home theater in the form of an app that catalogues film and television programs created by wixen for wixen. There’s Accio, an application that allows you to ask random questions and receive an answer instantly; Portky** which allows users to request forms of transportation when they desperately need it, including ministry-approved portkeys (or so it claims, we haven’t used it yet here at the Prophet). There’s even applications for those lonely wixen looking to find a love connection. Erised is one such app where user profiles are made with a handful of photos, a small ‘about me’ section, and a few small details that can be provided to prospective dates in order to help connect those with similar interests and hobbies. The married Wick does not have an Erised profile, but his assistant allows me to scroll through her’s and even swipe a few times on other profiles. I accidentally match her to someone she admits she can’t see herself interested in, but we all have a good laugh about it. These are only a few of many “experiences”, as Wick refers to them, offered by the company in order to branch the magical people from across the globe. “What is more beautiful than seeing people from different cultural backgrounds and walks of life coming together and sharing ideas and thoughts so quickly?” I realize as I’m sitting there in that bean cushion, scrolling through a prototype of the next Blishwix tablet that I know so little about the world beyond my little corner of it. I suddenly understand Wick’s enthusiasm about expanded communication.

It’s all pretty exciting to see coming together, it’s almost impossible to understand what more could be done by Blishwix. So when I ask him what’s next, Wick gets a very eager look in his eyes. “There’s a lot of places we still don’t have our tech in that I think would be all the better for it,” he solemnly reveals, and I’m shocked to hear it. Since visiting Blishwix, I have seen their product seemingly in every corner of Wizarding London I explore daily. Who isn’t using connected to their expansive network at this point? “I would love to do a partnership with the Ministry. As the governing body, I feel like we can offer them so much that could continue to further develop the community and continue progressing us into the future. If we could get our desktops in every Ministry Department, we can further the sort of work that keeps our world moving. Just imagine how we could expand Law Enforcement, Education or Wellfare departments if we can make all the relevant information they need all the more accessible to their employees? Think about how much easier it would be for them to process information on our fast and reliable network.”

On the topic of Education, Wick reveals his ambitions don’t stop with the Ministry. “I would love to see Blishwix in schools like Hogwarts,” he says, revealing what may be the biggest bombshell yet. “This whole dream started because of a chubby boy who had no friends in school and wanted a faster way to communicate with the one he made far away. I think a lot about that and how my life would have been different had I had this kind of technology available to me. If there are lonely kids like me who could have that, or even kids who are just struggling to get the information they need to be successful in school, and I could give them what they need to advance in life? Then I could say I’ve done what I initially set out to do. Until that day, I would say that Blishwix hasn’t been a success yet. Even teachers could benefit from the use of the internet and all the resources we have out there which we now have access to.” I begin to wonder if the technological genius is actually more of a philanthropist. “I don’t know, you tell me,” he quips when I muse out loud. Our interview comes to a halt by this point, and I’m left with so many more questions. What is Blishwix cooking up for the wizarding world next? What kind of innovations will define the company’s next decade? These, and so many more, questions are left unanswered as I walk out of Blishwix HQ, a takeaway bowl of fruity cereal in one hand and my previous generation Loquix in the other (scrolling through shopping apps in order to find that “love sack” I spent much of the afternoon lounging in).

The same day I begin writing this piece out, Blishwix has announced the Loquix VI, their most advance smartphone yet. They livestream details of their upgraded OS and hardware reveal on the company’s social media, an event I watch while typing this article up on my worn out typewriter. Halfway through and I’m out of ribbon, and I silently curse myself as I order a new set online. All the while the Blishbook Pro is being revealed on the stream, its sleek wireless keyboard and slim expandable monitor shimmering under the stage lights. I join in with the loud gasps from the shareholders crowding the conference room where the event is being held. The irony of this isn’t lost on me, and as I sit here writing out these last few paragraphs with a quill in my cramped hand I begin to realize exactly why I admire Jimbo Blishwick and his forward thinking. At least he’s not sitting here with ink blotches in obscene places, running to his editor’s office just barely before deadline with a mess of typed and handwritten article. I remember in that moment, drenched in the rain while rushing through the offices of the Prophet, the first line in his owl response to my inquiry for the interview:

You should have just emailed.

Touché, Blishwick, touché.

*Portky app idea comes courtesy of Kim ( @strvngemagics ) **Loquix phone name comes courtesy of Vic ( @cfdiggorys / @moodyparis / @aarlingtons ) Both gave permission to use / mention these galaxy brained concepts in the intro and credit for their conception goes to them. Thank you guys so much!!

TL;DR: Wick is full of shit. What can I say? Here’s the ‘Murrican lad who claims to be some hip and cool CEO of a wizarding tech and media company. Okay he’s I guess apple meets zuckerberg. Idk I’m not galaxy brained enough for this afheiahfpea hence the very oddly written bio. Wick’s a pureblood from america who supposedly forsake his family’s purist ways and then decided to create a company modeled after muggle tech in order to “bring the wizarding world into the modern era”. In actuality? He’s a fucking bigot who created a network that he could use to spy on people who may be enemies of the cause. At least that’s how it’s being factored into the DEs. His theme song is “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell bc he’s always watching you. Gives off this very laid back and down to earth and charming persona just so he can gain your trust and meanwhile he’s leaking your information to the DE and helping them further their agenda. Some extra tidbits not seen above:

He’s got some daddy issues which are leaking into his parenting. Aka he is not exactly excited to be a father but you wouldn’t know that from his Wixpix feed which feature so many “cute” dad photos with his baby boy. In order for him to become his best self, his dad had to make his life a living hell and he believes that’s how he’s gonna have to handle Zephyr as well.

He is smart, yes, but he’s not some brilliant innovator like the world thinks he is. His empire is built on stolen material which he simply “adapted” to the magical world. He’s not original, but he is clever.

He’s not a fighter, clumsy with a wand, had a severe stutter as a kid which made it very hard for him to cast spells etc, so he avoids battle often and instead offers up his company more for espionage for the DEs. He’s better suited to behind the scenes mayhem, and that’s kind of the way he likes it.

He’s a coward. He’s hiding behind computer screens and tbh if things get really sticky he’s likely to try and sell out the DE in order to save his skin. Has an escape plan to the states if things get really sticky but the likelihood of him succeeding are slim to none.

He acts very charitable and humble and kind but he’s conceited as hell and he’s a real shady bitch sometimes. Talks shit on everyone behind their backs

He’s had a few affairs here and there despite being married. Even with that, he is in love with his wife and feels a sort of fealty towards her. She’s a very important part to the company, she’s pretty much the brand of it and so he relies on her a lot to help manufacture their image even just as individuals to help the rouse.

BODY IMAGE TW/EATING DISORDER TW. Wick has some body image issues due to his past tbh. He got bullied a lot as a kid for being overweight and quiet, his solace was in food and he was a binge eater. As he got a bit older, he made some desperate choices in order to lose weight to gain a slimmer figure. It wasn’t healthy, it landed him in hospital a few times, and eventually he had to meet with nutrition specialists and therapists in order to work out a more healthy mindset on food. He’s still harbors body imagine issues, but he’s learned to be better about it. Still, he maintains a very strict diet and work out regime because he feels his image is one of the most important things about him. He did meet Selene when he was slim and athletic and therefore thinks it’s best he maintain the figure even just out of fear she wouldn’t find him attractive otherwise.

is any of the stuff he said in this interview true? Idk, idk

Idk, I hate this man and this bio afheuiahfpea I’ll end up rewriting it eventually.

MISC

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic LANGUAGES: English FAMILY: Jimbo Dashiel Bartholomew Blishwick V (but they call him “Big Daddy”; father), Cricket Blishwick née Berkeley (mother), Beaufort Harland Blishwick (younger brother), Cora-Lou Blishwick (younger sister), Selene Blishwick née Rowle (wife), Zephyr Blishwick (infant son), and by extension all the fucking Rowles I guess PETS: TBD FACE CLAIM: Luke Mitchell ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Aquarius MBTI: hm PINTEREST: (coming soon)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

interns - a couple new grunts at the blishwix HQ. they can be any affiliation, but if they are DE affiliated then they’ll know a little bit more about what is going on behind closed doors at the company. could be fun for future plotting purposes.

co conspirators - other DEs who similarly to wick lead a double life in the public eye. philanthropists, media stars, all sorts of “do gooders” who are banning together in order to break “harmful stigmas and stereotypes and join the wixen community globally”. blishwix mission statement aims to create a platform for wixen of all types across the world to interact free of prejudice and judgement and to bring the magical community into a modern era free of harmful ideologies. of course that’s a fucking lie, so if you play a baddy bad who’s pretending to be goody good then this could be a fun collaboration.

partnerships - alternatively, let’s see some honest to good people and groups get schemed by these fuckers. this would involve some potential screwing over but no worries, at the end of the day blishwix will tank and then your character can get their sweet revenge on this man and his corrupt business.

idk hmu with ideas.

#potterintro #sorry fam no fun doodle this time #bad men don't deserve it #ahfieafea i'm sorry this is kinda lame but i wanted to get something out there to help with plotting

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godsofhumanity · 3 years

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GODHUNTER by AMY SUMIDA | REVIEW

okiee this was recommended to me by @inkleaves ^-^ uhmm so i have a LOT to say about this book. spoilers under cut.

OVERVIEW: “Godhunter” is the epithet given to a young woman named Vervain who uses witchcraft and magic to go around committing deicide in order to save humanity from gods who drain their energy to gain immortality and other godly attributes. However, when Vervain is recruited by the Norse god Thor, she finds herself in an alliance with the people she originally considered her enemies, as they work together to save the world from the maliciousness of the Aztec god, Huitzilopochtli.

RATING: 2/10. i’m giving it a low rating because it doesn’t really have too much to do with mythology, but i did like its general portrayal of most deities even though this book was insanely cringey and dumb.. now, even though under the cut, i’ve kinda bashed the book quite a bit, i still have to admit that i’d be lying if i said i didn’t have fun reading it. i stayed up to 1 AM trying to finish it because i had to find out what the protag’s next stupid decision would be,, all in all, if you like trash/cringe fiction- this is for you.

WARNING: even though this book is a YA novel, I’d say there’s a definite emphasis on the adult part of “young adult”... Certain scenes and themes are inappropriate for minors.

AVAILABLE ON: pdf link here ^-^ ((i think it downloads immediately if you click))

THINGS I LIKED:

the book is cringe.

great diversity in terms of the god cast. i learned about some new deities that i was previously unfamiliar with, so that was cool

Brahma (Hindu deity) wears a Gucci belt as part of his attire ^-^

whatever Estsanatlehi and Tsohanoai (Native American deities) had going on.... they were really cute and wholesome

THOR-HORUS BROTP AGENDA!!!!!!!! everyone who follows me already knows how keen i am about this idea of all the war deities hanging out together (fite club), and this novel served up exactly that. disappointing that Huitzilopochtli wasn’t a part of it, but i am settling for Thor and Horus’ several centuries old friendship.

Horus’ falcon tattoo detail.. i LOVE the idea of the gods having their sacred animals tattooed,, it’s so awesome!!!

Pan... i liked the way he still had his little horns, and he was kinda chaotic and fun.

in general, the descriptions of the gods were so pleasant and so cool.. i really liked the way that pretty much all the gods were beautiful,, this is very much in line with my own idea of how the gods look, and i think it makes sense, because they’re meant to be charismatic, compelling beings- beings that you worship, beings that you praise- why would they be anything but beautiful? and even if they were considered ugly by other gods, that’s only in comparison to other deities.. from a human perspective,, i just can’t see how any mortal could consider a god to be anything less than perfection,, idk

in particular- i really enjoyed the descriptions of Huitzilopochtli in his debut. i know he’s a piece of shit in the novel, but i LOVED the way he was described with his war-frenzy being triggered by blood, and the way, as god of the sun, his body almost glows, and heats up as though you’re looking into the sun itself, and the only way he can cool it down is by bathing in blood... WOWOWOWOW it’s just such a neat and fantastic visual description. his physical appearance really paid tribute to Huitzilopochtli’s original domain and attributes.

i also liked the linking between Huitzilopochtli being the Father of Vampires.. links between Aztec culture and vampirism is a trope that i didn’t originally suspect, but have become exposed to quite a bit as of late,, and i think that it’s quite a clever little plot. i liked that Huitzilopochtli also debunks superstitions about the sun, garlic, crosses, holy water etc.

Huitzilopochtli as the villain. the man makes a BRILLIANT villain- his motives are very clear and also, i thought, justified, albeit unoriginal. his presence is quite terrifying, and the reader does worry for Vervain’s safety whenever she’s with him- which is good! this means that he fills out his role as a villain well. tbh,, i did love Huitzilopochtli from the moment of his debut, but he got knocked out of my books during a certain temple scene and i have some thoughts about that in the next section.

when Vervain wakes up after the temple dream with Huitzilo, and she relaxes because it was just a dream, but then she looks into the mirror and sees bite marks on her neck!!! CHILLS! now THAT was good writing- it was unexpected, and served well to navigate into the next part of the plot.

Odin and Huitzilopochtli holding a ted talk on “how to create panic and discord among the humans”, and the gods having to bring certain meals depending on what the first letter of their names were.

Vervain’s pop-culture references, and her weaponry- especially the gloves that have blades in them that get released when she swings her hand downwards. very cool, i want them.

casual appearances from Vladimir Putin (yes, i said Vladimir Putin)... i couldn’t stop laughing when i read that Huitzilo was trying to kill Putin’s daughter to instigate a war...... asdhshajdhasdjfhjdhf insane

also i know Vervain was trying to mock Huitzilo when she nicknamed him “Blue”,, but like.. that’s a really cute name and it wasn’t even insulting.. yeah, that one backfired on you Vervain... if anything, that just made it seem like she actually had affections for him and i feel like probably in part is the reason why he felt encouraged to pursue her.

THINGS I DIDN’T LIKE/THINGS THAT DIDN’T MAKE SENSE AND/OR CONFUSED ME:

the book is cringe.

it reads like a 15 year old’s fantasy AU where she’s a humble young woman, unextraordinary- yet somehow, she is the muse of every man’s desire. handsome, ripped gods who never wear clothes are laying themselves down at her feet,, and she is just overwhelmed by the choices before her; and all the while, she has to balance a complicated love life with her duty to save the world (since she’s the only one who can).

Vervain as a protagonist. idk how old she’s meant to be, but since the book is in first-person, and the reader is exposed to her innermost thoughts,, i’ve gotta say- she’s incredibly immature. as a protagonist, i just feel like she’s rude, pretentious, snobby.. she has no idea what “respect” even means. in every scene, she’s either fighting someone, or lusting after them (when Teharon told her off for having lascivious thoughts about him, and she simply responded with “well stop being so sexy then” i wanted to die.... WHAT is wrong with her)

i hate the way she looks down on the gods- even if you didn’t worship them, or even believed in their existence, surely you wouldn’t have the gall to lecture Hades and Persephone on how to be a good couple (especially when your advice is shit). surely you wouldn’t have the gall to say to Thor what Vervain says to him on pg 227, 4th line from the bottom, that i will not repeat here. Vervain is just too self-absorbed. i don’t hate her, but i definitely think her character is a bit,,, iffy.

relating to Vervain as the protagonist- everything just seems to happen to her.. and i know that she’s the protag, and things are meant to happen to her, but it all happens to her one after the other in succession, no breaks. it’s so easy for her... oh? Huitzilopochtli is going to kill Putin’s daughter? no worries, Vervain can read Huitzilopochtli’s thoughts! oh? the gods have never been able to transform more than half their body into their animal form? no worries, Vervain is so powerful she can force a god to change against their will! oh? Vervain is being attacked by blood-thirsty wolves? no worries, she saved the life of one werewolf and now he’s indebted to her and will literally kill himself in order to protect her! everything is easy, and nothing is a problem.

the way every male deity ever sees Vervain once and immediately wants to take her to bed. why was that a necessary aspect of her character? and also, why are the gods portrayed as such lustful beings?? it really wasn’t necessary.

Horus throwing a fit about how December 25 is his birthday and that it was stolen from him by Jesus... to quote:

“No big deal?” Horus puffed up. “I was called the Lamb of God. I had twelve apostles, and my myths spoke of my crucifixion and consequent resurrection in three days. His stories were my stories first!”

it’s fine that Horus is angry about his birthday which was i think, historically celebrated around this date- but the rest of it isn’t even true???? Horus didn’t have 12 apostles, i’m pretty sure he was also not called “Lamb of God”, and he wasn’t crucified!!! aghhhh even Thor says “It’s been so long that even you don’t remember things accurately.”

anyways.. my beef with this is the way it’s phrased so as to imply that “oh christianity just stole everything from the pagans” when this is so incredibly false and sounds like something an ill-informed person would say. you can read more about christianity, paganism and christmas here

kinda related to the previous point- the jokes about Jesus’ skin colour. i quote:

“... when Christ first became a god, he looked Jewish because those were the people he chose to align himself with. However, the Jews didn’t want him, and when Christianity spread, the white people wanted Jesus to look more like them. With the change in belief, Christ’s appearance changed. ... We used to tease him about how he looked whiter every time we saw him... Kind of like Michael Jackson...”

what the FUCK??????? seems like Sumida doesn’t understand that various ethnic groups illustrate Jesus as appearing as the local people do. Yes, obviously in a Western country, Jesus is going to look European, he’s going to look white. If you go to Japan, you will see Jesus and the rest of the gang looking pretty fucking Japanese. the point of this is NOT to erase Jesus’ Jewish ethnicity, and it is certainly not because of something like “the Jews didn’t want him”- it is because it is a way for followers to better relate to the Divine. including Christ in this story isn’t the problem- i’ve seen others do it very well. the problem is how uneducated her writing comes across.

all the gods have human jobs so that they can earn money and stuff,, which is fine- Thor, for example, owns a line of boats, which makes sense. but Pan? his job is making p*rn. now even though it’s true that everyone associates Pan with sexuality and stuff,,, this isn’t his primary role, and making Pan out to be just a playboy who has his mind in the gutter 24/7 i think is a bit of a mockery. Pan is, first and foremost, a god of the Wild. why Sumida elected to make him a p*rn manufacturer and not a wildlife conservationist is beyond me... i’m not even pagan, and i thought this creative decision was distasteful and stupid, especially because his character is actually quite light-hearted and cool.

the temple scene with Huitzilopochtli and Vervain. as i said previously, i really really liked Huitzilo’s character. he made an excellent villain. but this part?? i understand why it was done, but i HATED that it had to happen... not just because it was horrible for Vervain, but Huitzilo seemed so powerful and godly right up to that point- after which he seemed pretty pathetic- going back after Vervain after she’s rejected him countless times. she is JUST a mortal!!! c’mon Huitzilo, give it up!!! you are degrading yourself at the expense of achieving one mortal’s “love”.. the fact that he had to hypnotise her to get what he wanted AND had to achieve it through her dreams (when’s she can’t protect herself) was sooooo pathetic and disgraceful.. IMO, he committed the worst sin any person could ever commit and i just... AGHHHHHHHHH SMH WHY?!

speaking of morons- Thor. Thor just comes across to me as extremely possessive, and over-protective,, and idk how Vervain was NOT creeped out by the fact that Thor had literally been stalking her for two years before she even met him. wtf? god or not- that’s creepy. actually, i think it’s creepier because he is a god.

Sif. i am still waiting for good media representation of thunder god Thor and his beautiful golden-haired wife Sif- i want them to be HAPPY, and i want them to be in love the way they should be!

Persephone. i like the idea of Persephone being sweet-tempered, and kind- but in this book, she’s such a wimp??????? she totally just lets Vervain be rude to her, a goddess who’s name means “Bringer of Destruction”. also- her relationship with Hades seems toxic.. i mean,, he like tracks her? she starts stuttering when she talks to him, and gets nervous when people so much as mention his name. not to mention the fact that Persephone says that when she does go back to him, all he demands from her is a certain horizontal dance so much so that she is “sore” (<- quoting from the book here) every time she returns??????? WHAT IS HAPPENING?????????? and no one even questions it. Vervain doesn’t even question it! instead she suggests that Persephone MOVES IN with Hades permanently???? and that Hades should just start verbally saying how much he loves Persephone instead of “showing” her how much he “loves” her.....??? there are SO many issues with this.. i can’t even- *screams*

the Aphrodite-is-madly-in-love-with-Huitzilopochtli side plot. it could have been really good, but then it ends so abruptly,,, i mean.. why’d Aphrodite get done so dirty like that? Also summary of Hephaestus’ first and final scenes:

Hephaestus, entering the room: Right, what’s all this then? Vervain: Your wife is cheating on you (again) Hephaestus: Aight, i’m out *leaves and never comes back for the rest of the book*

what the HECK was the ending with Trevor?? i hate Vervain so much i can’t... okay first of all- WHY did Trevor decide to have a wolf-marriage with Vervain?? he kept on going on about how she’s so beautiful, and kind, and caring... NO SHE ISN’T TREVOR!!! i’m so mad that he would pledge himself for all eternity to this girl who doesn’t even like him in that way!!! you played yourself son

also- Thor accepts the fact that Trevor is going to have to be close by to Vervain because the terms of the marriage state that Trevor will literally die without her touch, which is VERY GENEROUS of Thor... but Vervain?? ooooh i HATE her.. she has the audacity to look at Trevor with her lecherous eyes thinking about lustful things IN THOR’S OWN BED!!!!! and then she thinks to herself “oh whoops i shouldn’t be thinking that”- yeah you’re darn right you shouldn’t be thinking that!!!! whatttt is wrong with her.............

also- where tf did Huitzilo go??? he just gave up on trying to instigate a war and vanished?? the plot was so unresolved?????? AGH!

#also- i forgot but- the Brad Pitt looking guy on the front cover.. i thought maybe that was meant to be Ull because he's blonde but i guess #it really was Thor in the end?? but Thor in the novel has red hair so what's up with that? how disappointing #person who reviewed this and said ''Vervain's one of the best female heroines today!''- can i have some of whatever you're smoking?#she's so horrible!!! aghhhhh #review #godhunter by amy sumida #long post

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lucyreviewcy · 3 years

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The Three Three Musketeers (or Where The F*ck Did All The Stupid Hats Go)

I read The Three Musketeers and then I watched the 1973, 1993 and 2011 adaptations. Which one wins tho?

Adaptation is a fascinating concept, especially of texts which are frequently adapted or parodied. After I rewatched the 2005 Pride and Prejudice I was reminded how weirdly divisive the two dominant adaptations of that book are. A lot of people consider the 2005 to be an inferior betrayal of the 1990s BBC version. I actually prefer the 2005 because I think Matthew McFadyen’s Mr Darcy is a wonderfully complex character. McFadyen imbues Darcy with social awkwardness and anxiety, which Lizzie misinterprets as his pride. To overcome the “Lizzie doesn’t fancy him ‘til she sees his house” debate, director Joe Wright includes a moment where Lizzie glimpses Darcy alone with his sister. He’s comfortable, his body language is completely different, and he’s smiling broadly. That moment really sold me on the entire film because it made Darcy a full character and was a really simple addition that rounded out the story. I still like the 90s version but for me, it’s the 2005 that takes first place. (Although an honourable mention for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies because it is an excellent romp.)

Look: adaptation is always a complicated topic. You can’t untangle one adaptation from another, because it’s pretty rare that somebody adapting a classic text like Pride and Prejudice or The Three Musketeers is not already familiar with existing adaptations. The most recent adaptation of any classic text is not simply an adaptation of that text, but the next step in a flow chart that includes all the previous adaptations and the cultural context of the newly created product. These three adaptations of Dumas’ 1844 novel are all texturally and stylistically very different, and two of them diverge significantly from the original text. What I found truly fascinating was what all of them had in common, and what each new era (these were made at around 20 year intervals) decides to add or remove. What do all these movies agree are the essential parts of the story, and what are some adaptations more squeamish about including from Dumas’ original narrative?

Before we dive in, no I have not seen every single adaptation of the story, that would be a dissertation level of research and I do actually have things to do right now (although, I will admit...not many.) I’m looking at these three Hollywood adaptations because they all had star studded casts (for the era they were made in), they’re all English language, and (crucially) they were all easily available on the internet for me to stream.

What are the essential ingredients of a Three Musketeers adaptation?

Firstly, there should be at least three musketeers. Secondly, D’Artagnan (Michael York 1973, Chris O’Donnell 1993, Logan Lerman 2011) should be a young upstart who is introduced part way through a sword fight. He should also have silly hair. He is also consistently introduced to the musketeers in all three films by challenging them each individually to duels at noon, one o’clock and two o’clock.

The films all maintained some elements of the original “Queen’s Diamonds” storyline, and featured the Queen, Milady and Constance. The characterisation of these three varied a lot.

Our villains in each case are invariably the Cardinal, his pal Rochefort (who always has an eyepatch, although this trope is not in the book and is actually attributable to the way Christopher Lee is styled in the 1973 film), and Milady de Winter. Satisfyingly, at least two of the villains usually wear red because they’re bad. Red is for bad.

All three are very swashbuckling in tone, have elements of physical comedy, and two of them include one of the three valet characters Dumas wrote into the original story, Planchet (1973 Roy Kinnear, 2011 James “ugh why” Corden). They also all bear the generic markings of the movies made during the same era, our 70s D’Artagnan feels like a prototype Luke Skywalker. The 90s version features a random martial arts performer. The 2011 version has CGI and James Corden in equal measure (read: far too much of both.)

What are the big differences?

I’m going to divide this category into three main segments: character, story and style. My own three musketeers, the three musketeers of movie making.

Character

D’Artagnan

D’artagnan in the book comes across as a pretty comical figure. He’s nineteen and there’s something satisfying about how similar Dumas’ caricature of a nineteen year old is to a modern character of the same age. He’s overconfident, has a simplistic but concrete set of morals, and falls in love with every woman he sees. If D’Artagnan were a 2021 character, he’d really hate The Last Jedi, is what I’m saying. He’d definitely have a tumblr blog, probably a lot like this one, but perhaps a scooch more earnest. He really loved The Lighthouse but he can’t explain why. Isn’t it nice to know that awkward nineteen year olds have been pretty much the same for the last three hundred years at least?

In all three films he’s kind of irritating, but at least in the 1973 this feels deliberate. This version has a certain “Carry On Musketeering” quality to it and D’Artagnan is your pantomime principal, he’s extremely naïve and he takes himself very seriously. This is the closest D’Artagnan to the book, and the 1973 is, in general, the film which adheres most faithfully to that source material.

The 1993, which is (spoiler alert) my least favourite adaptation, has Chris O’Donnell as the least likeable D’Artagnan I’ve come across. I’ve only seen O’Donnell in one other thing, the Al Pacino movie Scent of a Woman. He’s bearable in that because he’s opposite Al Pacino, and so his wide-eyed innocence makes sense as a contrast to Pacino’s aged hoo-ah cynicism. Rather than being introduced in a practice sword fight with his father, as in the other two films, D’Artagnan is fighting the brother of an ex-lover. This captures the problem with the film in general: this adaptation wants D’Artagnan to be cool. He is not. The comedy of the 1973, and indeed the book, comes from D’Artagnan being deeply uncool, and from his blind idolisation of the deeply flawed Musketeers who actually are cool, but not necessarily heroic, or even good people. Their moral greyness contrasts with D’Artagnan’s defined sense of right and wrong, but he still considers them to be role models and heroes.

2011′s version also suffers from “Cool D’Artagnan” syndrome, with the added annoyance of that most Marvel of tropes: the quip. One of the real issues with this film is that the dialogue has a lot of forced quippery that doesn’t quite land, and the editing slows the pace of the entire film. D’Artagnan’s first interaction with Constance is a bad attempt at wit which Constance points out isn’t very funny. The problem is that Constance has no personality so there’s no real indication that she’s in any position to judge his level of wit. She’s just vague, blonde and there: three characteristics which describe an entire pantheon of badly written female characters throughout the ages. Cool D’Artagnan also means that Constance should be additionally cool, because in the book, Constance is older than, smarter than and over-all more in charge than D’Artagnan.

Female Characters

Let’s go into this with an open mind that understands all these films were made in the sociological context of their decade. The 1973 version would absolutely not be made in the same way now. Constance is a clumsy cartoon character who is forever falling over and accidentally sticking her breasts out. This is not the character from the books, but does at least leave an impression on the viewer one way or another.

In contrast, the 1993 has a Constance so forgettable I literally cannot picture her. I think she holds D’Artagnan’s hand at the end. That’s all I can say on the subject.

The 2011 has Gabriella Wilde in the role, and absolutely wastes her. Anyone who’s seen her in Poldark knows that she can do sharp-tongued beautiful wit-princess with ease. It’s the writing of this film that lets her down, in general, that’s the problem with it. The storyline and design are great, but the actual dialogue lacks the pace and bite that a quip-ridden star vehicle needs. This Constance is given simultaneously more and less to do than the Constance of the original book, who demonstrates at every turn the superiority of her intellect over D’Artagnan, but doesn’t get to pretend to be a Musketeer and whip her hat off to show her flowing golden hair like she does in the 2011.

The best character, for my money, in The Three Musketeers is Milady de Winter. Even Dumas got so obsessed with her that there are full chapters of the book written from pretty much her perspective. In the book, she’s described as a terrifying genius with powers of persuasion so potent that any jailor she speaks to must be instantly replaced. My favourite Milady is absolutely Faye Dunaway from 1973. She’s ferocious and beautiful and ruthless, but potentially looks even better because the portrayals in the other films are so very bad.

The 1993 version has your typical blonde 90s baddie woman (Rebecca De Mornay), she wouldn’t look out of place as a scary girlfriend in an episode of Friends or Frasier. 2011 boasts Milla Jovovich who presents us a much more physical version of the character, even doing an awkwardly shoe-horned anachronistic hall of lasers a la Entrapment except instead of lasers its really thin pieces of glass? The “yeah but it looks cool” attitude to anachronism in this film is what makes it fun, and Jovovich’s Milady isn’t awful, she’s just let down by a plot point that she shares with 1993 Milady. Both these adaptations get really hooked on the fact that Athos used to be married to Milady at one time (conveniently leaving out the less justifiable character point that Athos TRIED TO HANG HER when he found out she had been branded as a thief - doesn’t wash so well with the modern audiences, I think.) Rather than hating/fearing Milady, the two modern adaptations suggest that Athos is still in love with her and pines for her. This detracts from Athos’ character just as much as it detracts from Milady’s. Interestingly, and I don’t know where this came from (if it was in the book I definitely missed it), both films feature a confrontation between the two where Athos points a gun at Milady but she pre-empts him by throwing herself off a cliff (or in the 2011, an air-ship.) I think both these versions were concerned that Milady was an anti-feminist character because she’s so wantonly evil, but I disagree. Equality means it is absolutely possible for Milady to be thoroughly evil and hated by the musketeers just as much as they hate Rochefort and the Cardinal. If you want to sort out the gender issues with this story, round Constance out and give her proper dialogue, don’t make Milady go weak at the knees because of whiny Athos (both Athos characters are exceedingly whiny, 1973 Athos is just...mashed).

The Musketeers

These guys are pretty important to get right in a film called The Three Musketeers. They have to be flawed, funny but kind of cool. Richard Chamberlain is an absolute dish in the 1973 version, capturing all those qualities in one. Is it clear which version is my favourite yet?

Athos is played variously by a totally hammered Oliver Reed (1973), a ginger-bearded Kiefer Sutherland (1993) and a badly bewigged Matthew McFadyen (2011). They all have in common the role of being the most level-headed character, but the focus on the relationship between Athos and Milady in the 93 and 11 editions undermines this a lot. Athos should be cool and aloof, instead of mooning over Milady the entire time. The 2011 gives Athos some painfully “edgy” lines like “I believe in this (points at wine) this (flicks coin) and this (stabs coin with knife.)...” which McFadyen ( once oh so perfect as Mr Darcy) doesn’t quite pull off.

Porthos seems to be the musketeer who is the most different between interpretations. A foppish dandy in the 1973, a pirate (!?!) in the 1993, and then just...large in 2011. I think the mistake made in the 2011 is that large alone does not a personality make. There are hints at Porthos’ characterisation from the book: his dependence on rich women for money and his love of fine clothing, but these are only included as part of his introduction and never crop up again through the rest of the film. Pirate Porthos in 1993 is... you know what, fine, you guys were clearly throwing everything at the wall and seeing what stuck.

Aramis is our dishy Richard Chamberlain in 1973, followed by womanising Charlie Sheen in 1993 and then strikingly suave Luke Evans in 2011. I actually didn’t mind Luke Evans’ interpretation, his dialogue is forgettable but his sleek charm stuck in my head. For some reason, this version has Aramis working as a parking attendant for horses, it worked for me as a fun A Knight’s Tale-esque bit of anachronistic character development. Charlie Sheen has never managed to appear likable or attractive to me and so his role in the 1993 falls flat. In fact, in that edition there’s not much distinction between the musketeers as characters and they’re all just very 90s and American. As anyone who’s read this blog before will expect, I think Keanu Reeves as Aramis would have really upped this film’s game. In fact, Keanu Reeves as Aramis, Brad Pitt as Athos and Will Smith as Porthos could have been the ultimate 90s adaptation, throw in DiCaprio as D’Artagnan and Roger Allam as the Cardinal and I’m fully sold.

The King and Queen

All three films try and do the “Queen’s Diamonds” storyline, but only the 1973 actually includes the Queen’s affair with Buckingham. The queen, played by Geraldine Chaplin, is a tragic romantic figure (she doesn’t have a tonne to do besides being wistful and sighing over Lord Buckingham). The king is played as a frivolous idiot by Jean-Pierre Cassel (voice dubbed by Richard Briers). He doesn’t really think of the queen as a person, more as a possession that he doesn’t want Buckingham to have.

In the 1993 version, Buckingham doesn’t really feature, and it’s the queen’s refusal to get off with the Cardinal that prompts his fury at her. The book does touch on the Cardinal’s desire for the queen, but it’s placed front and centre in 1993. This is definitely the boobsiest version, with quite a lot of corsetry on show and a cardinal who hits on literally all the women. The king is shown as a stroppy teenage boy under the thumb of the cardinal, who just wants to ask the queen to the dance but doesn’t have the nerve. The king is, essentially, a Fall Out Boy lyric.

The 2011 also seems to be really squeamish about the idea of the queen having an extramarital affair. It paints Buckingham (played with excellent wig and aplomb by Orlando Bloom) as a stylish villain, who’s advances the queen has rejected. Like the 1993 version, the King is a feckless youth rendered speechless by the presence of his wife. Both these versions want the King and Queen to be happy together, while the 1973 doesn’t give a fuck.

The Cardinal and his Cronies

The cardinal is kind of universally an evil creepy guy. One of the characters from the 1973 version who actually left the least impression on me, played by Charlton Heston. I think he’s overshadowed in my recollection by cartoonishly evil Christopher Lee as Rochefort. Lee’s Rochefort is dark, mysterious and wonderfully bad, and so influential that all other incarnations’ design is based on him. The 1993 version had truly over the top Michael Wincott as a character I could honestly refer to as Darth Rochefort from the way he’s framed, while 2011 boasts a chronically underused Mads Mikkelsen in the role.

Cardinal-wise, 1993 was my favourite with Tim Curry in all his ecclesiastical splendour. It was disappointing that everything about this film, including the Cardinal’s sexual harassment of every single female character, really didn’t work for me. Tim Curry is a natural choice for this role and gives it his campy all.

2011 has not one but two trendy bond villain actors, with Mikkelsen working alongside Christoph Waltz who was...just kind of fine. I was really excited when he appeared but he didn’t really push the character far enough and left me cold.

Story

The story is where the different adaptations diverge most completely. 1973 follows the plot of the novel, D’Artagnan comes to Paris, befriends the Musketeers and becomes embroiled in a plot by the Cardinal to expose the Queen’s affair with Buckingham through the theft of two diamond studs. D’Artagnan, aided partially by the musketeers, must travel to London to retrieve the set of twelve studs gifted by the King to the Queen, and by the Queen to Buckingham. He does so, the plot is foiled, he’s made into a musketeer! Hurrah, tankards all round.

The 1993 version drops D’Artagnan into the story just as the Cardinal has disbanded the Musketeers. I found the plot of this one really hard to follow and I think at some point D’Artagnan ended up in the Bastille? There was this whole plot point about how Rochefort had killed D’Artagnan’s father. In the original, and in the 1973 version, D’Artagnan’s entire beef with Rochefort is rooted in a joke Rochefort makes about D’Artagnan’s horse. I guess for the producers of this one, a horse insult is not enough motivation for a lifelong grudge. That is really the problem with the entire film, it forgets that the story as told by Dumas is set in a world where men duel over such petty things as “criticising one’s horse”, “blocking one’s journey down a staircase” and “accusing one of having dropped a lady’s handkerchief.” The colour palette and styling are very 90s “fun fun fun”, but the portrayal of the cardinal and the endless angst about D’Artagnan’s father really dampen the mood.

The 2011 version, this is where the shit really hits the fan. We meet our musketeers as they collaborate with Milady to steal the blueprints for a flying ship (it’s like a piratecore zeppelin). Milady betrays them and gives the plans to Buckingham, they all become jaded and unemployed. D’Artagnan arrives on the scene (his American accent explained by the fact that he’s from a different part of France) and befriends the Musketeers. The cardinal tries to frame the queen for infidelity by having Milady steal her diamonds to hide them in Buckingham’s safe at the tower of London. Something something Constance, something something help me D’Artagnan you’re my only hope. MASSIVE AIRSHIP BATTLE. The king and queen have a dance. James Corden cracks wise.

It seems like as time has passed, producers, writers and directors have felt compelled to embellish the story. I think, specifically in the case of the two later versions, this is because they wanted the films to resemble the big successes of the period. Everybody knows no Disney hero can be in possession of both parents, so D’Artagnan is out to avenge his father like Simba or Luke Skywalker. In the 2011 version, the plot is overblown and overcomplicated in what seems like an attempt to replicate the success of both the Sherlock Holmes and Pirates of the Caribbean franchises. Remember the plot of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End? No, me neither.

Style

The style of these films grows increasingly wild along with the plots as time passes. The 1973 features a lot of slapstick comedy, some of which really made me cackle, and some of which was cringeworthily sexist (Constance’s boobs through the window of a litter.) That’s the 70s though! I love The Godfather but Diane Keaton’s character is unbelivably dull and annoying. Star Wars features a pretty good female character but she does end up in that bikini. The 70s seems to be a time of movies that were great except for their occasional headlong dive into misogyny. That doesn’t mean the entire movie is bad, it just means it’s suffering from the consequences of being made in the 70s. There were other consequences of this, I doubt many modern productions could get away with physically injuring so many of it’s cast members. From a glance down the IMDB trivia page, this film yielded a higher casualties to cast ratio than the My Chemical Romance Famous Last Words music video, and that’s a hard figure to top.

The 1993 version is a Disney feature and suffers from having a thin sheen (not Charlie in this instance) of “Disney Original Movie” pasted over every scene. It looks like The Parent Trap might be filming in the adjacent studio a lot of the time. The vibrancy of the colours makes the costumes look unrealistic, while the blandness of the female characters means this movie ends up a bit of a bland bro-fest. Also occasionally the sexual and violent moments really jar with the overall tone making it an uneven watch. One minute it’s Charlie Sheen cracking jokes about trying to get off with someone’s wife, the next minute you see Milady throw herself off a cliff and land on the rocks. Weird choices all round.

The 2011 version, as I’ve already mentioned, was trying to borrow its style from the success of Sherlock Holmes and Pirates of the Caribbean, with a little Ocean’s 11 thrown in. The soundtrack flips between not quite a Hans Zimmer score and not quite that other Hans Zimmer score, and after the success of Stardust it ends with a Take That song (for it to match up to the story it should have been Take That feat. Harry styles imho). Visually, there’s some fantastic travel by mapping going on, there’s far too much CGI (one of my friends pointed out that the canal in Venice seemed to be full of Flubber). Everyone is dressed in black leather, and there are not enough big hats at all. One of the best things about Musketeers films is that they’re an excuse for ridiculous hats, and in a film with a quite frankly insane visual style, I’m surprised the hats didn’t make it through. The cast, unfortunately, really lack chemistry which means the humorous dialogue is either stilted or James Corden, and the editing is just very strange. It’s one of those films that feels about as disjointed as an early morning dream, the one where you dream you’ve woken up, gotten dressed and fed the cat, but you actually are still in bed.

Conclusion

Adaptations focus on different things depending on the context they were created in. The 2005 Pride and Prejudice is deliberately “grittier” than its 1990s predecessor, at a stage when “grit” was everywhere (The Bourne Identity, Spooks, Constantine). The Musketeers adaptations demonstrate exactly the same thing: what people wanted in the 70s was bawdy comedy and slapstick with a likeable idiot hero, the 90s clearly called for... Charlie Sheen and bright colours, and the 2010s just want too much of everything and a soundtrack with lots of banging and crashing. The more modern adaptations simplified the female characters (although the 1973 version definitely is guilty of oversimplifying Constance) while over-complicating the plot. There’s a lot of embellishment going on in the 2011 version that suggests the film wasn’t very sure of itself, it pulls its plot punches while simultaneously blindly flailing its stylistic fists.

The film that works the best for me will always be the 1973 because it’s pretty straight down the line. Musketeers are good, Milady is evil, falling over is funny and the King’s an idiot. The later adaptations seem to be trying to fix problems with the story that the 1973 version just lets fly. The overcorrection of Milady and the under characterisation of Constance is the perfect example of this. If you want your Musketeers adaptation to be more feminist, don’t weaken Milady, strengthen Constance. Sometimes a competent female character is all that we need. A Constance who is like Florence Cassel from Death in Paradise or Ahn Young-yi from Misaeng could really pack a punch.

I adored the energy of the 2011 adaptation, I loved how madcap it was, I loved how it threw historical accuracy to the wind. I thought the king was adorable, and I really enjoyed seeing Orlando Bloom hamming it up as Buckingham. I was genuinely sad that the sequel the ending sets up for never came, because once they got out of the sticky dialogue and into the explosions, the film was great fun. It was a beautiful disaster that never quite came together, but I really enjoyed watching it. I love films that have a sense of wild chaos, some more successful examples are The Devil’s Advocate, Blow Dry and Lego Batman. I think the spirit of going all out on everything can sometimes result in the best cinematic experience, it’s just a shame the script wasn’t really up to muster for 2011 Musketeers.

I’m excited to see what the next big budget Musketeers adaptation brings, even if I’m going to have to wait another ten years to see it. I hope it’s directed by Chad Stahelski, that’d really float my boat (through the sky, like a zeppelin.)

#ThreeMusketeers #Three Musketeers #Adaptation #Movies #Film #The Three Musketeers

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girllovescomic · 4 years

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Winter Begonia Episode 6 recap

One of my favorite episode, it is in my eyes when Cheng Fengtai (Er Ye) truly falls for our little singer, Shang Xirui. He was already attracted to him, evidenced by the gaze, but this is what tips him over the line from infatuation to love. This is also an episode where you see how the opera lyrics are integral to the plot.

We hear Er Ye’s internal thoughts as he watches the opera, engrossed in Shang Lao Ban’s interpretation of Yang Guifei. He tells that when one leaves the Palace for Eternal Youth (the name of the Opera), they can see their lives in the story or some similarities between them and the character, but for him it goes deeper. He sees the helplessness and compromise he and his family had to make due to circumstances. For him, he had to give up his literary dreams and return home (from Europe, I presume) to take the family business which had been in ruin. He had no idea what he was doing because he was young, having to deal with creditors taking away everything, their employees leaving them and his sister Meixin forced to marry the Commander Cao and leave the man she loved, so they can settle some debts. Apparently, this was not enough, leading him to marry Fan Xian aka Er Nainai, who turns out had a lucrative career as a businesswoman that she was forced to becoming a housewife, confined inside the mansion walls to raise their children. By the way, can we command the way Huang Xiaoming speaks English? He even speaks better than the white girl talking to him. LOL.

The play, or specifically the way SXR sings it exposes all the emotions he had pushed aside as he realize that in life you cannot always do what you want, that sometimes the hand of fate forces you to make choices that goes against your dreams, making you suffer silently as you bite your lips and trudge through life. Ooof, I felt that one to my core. We go back to Shang Lao Ban singing what appears to be sad song. CFT is completely absorbed, to the point of tears as he resumes his narration.

To him, Xirui’s Yang Guifei is unwilling to submit to fate, to kill herself because the courtiers ask her to, but freely choosing to sacrifice herself

In one of the most beautiful sequence that made me weep, we see SXR as Yang Guifei standing afar from CFT talking to each other, the white cloth falling on the floor. She (talking about Yang Guifei) is reaching out to him, which makes him look around wondering if he is the one she wants. He tells her that it is her life, he can’t help her; she responds that she does not need his help, she just wants to look at her. He laments that she did not need to die as long as she was willing to accept her status, but she responds what was she supposed to let go of. He replies that should have taken conformed to the hand of fate, like he did, but to her that would have been meaningless. He tries to stop her from killing herself, but she replies that if she delays it more, she might start to regret it. We go back to the present time and CFT is weeping, clearly affected. Sigh, what a scene. I am crying while typing this.

SXR is doing his thing, marveling the audience, who are equally moved. With everyone gone, CFT is alone in his VIP box, thinking of his mother, who left to pursue her dreams as her singer instead of being confined in her role as mother and wife. CFT finally understands why his mother made that decision to go back to her love of the opera, as he walks dazed.

SXR watches as CFT walks dazed to his house. He is so struck, he doesn’t even see or hear anyone, not his wife nor his household manager. The man is completely gone, his mind still on his vision of Yang Guifei.

Again, we are privy to his thoughts and he tells us that SXR not only portrays Yang Guifei but embodies her, not simply acting her out, but being a living and breathing embodiment of the tragic concubine, like a reincarnation. OOOOF, this is poetry! As an aside, this scene was in the novel as well, although not as poetic. He stands in the courtyard as snowfall as if in a dream-like state, stumbling through his house, much to the other’ consternation.

Still in a daze, CFT is sitting and humming to himself. Through a conversation between his wife and the annoying maid, it has been a half day he’s been in this position and that he has not gone to any of his social functions, discuss business or play mahjong, for the past couple of days, completely uninterested in anything. The annoying maid of course has to run her mouth, claiming that at least Er Ye stays at home instead of being seduced by girls. I swear this girl has a one-track mind. He has been seduced, but not some women, but by an adorable opera singer who can lift his soul. Er Nainai responds that she doesn't care about this nonsense, she feels uneasy by this version of her husband. She clearly knows the annoying little maid can’t process such adult thinking and tells her so. I like this side of Er Nainai. Meanwhile, Er Ye’s mind is still on the songs and may I say, Huang Xiaoming looks absolutely gorgeous in it.

He tries to replicate the experience, but none of the records he pick come close to the original. Fan Lian is completely confused by his BIL’s reaction, wondering what he is looking for. Like a lovestruck teenager who has discover her first pop idol, CFT confesses that he wants to hear Shang Xirui. Fanboy Fan Lian tells him that he has some of SXR records, and will lend it to him, but that is not what CFT is really looking for.

Me, when I hear shitty house music

He tells his BIL that when SXR is on stage he is a completely different person, as if he just walked out of book or an opera script. Fan Lian tells him that he said something similar to SXR, “Body in the mortal realm, but spirit in the performance.” Ooof, I wished I could write something like that in my stories. He adds that of course, it’s a simplistic way to describe the singer’s performance, especially when taking into account his irascible personality and his nebulous past with his cousin. But he adores the man’s talent, so he is able to ignore all that. I completely understand bro. I have a lot of celebrities that I enjoy their work, but dislike their personalities. Sometimes you have to separate the art from the man/woman.

CFT tells him that is not what he cares about, since he has no understanding of the art form, but he actually cares about the man’s spirit, which he finds special. Well, someone is smitten. He finds it refined, rich and sensitive. He is not only a performer who is amazing at what he does, but compare to him, everyone else are mere mortals. This goes above Fan Lian’s head. The look on CFT’s face says it all; this is a man who has fallen in love, so yeah, Fan Lian, you can’t understand what he is talking about or feeling.

Dressed up in a fabulous attire and strutting his stuff, while his wife looks on, relieved that he is finally leaving the house, he goes out to find SXR. Er Nainai tells Meixin that she used to be uneasy whenever Er Ye left the house, but now she is relieved that he is going out, as long as his heart is with his family. You might end up regretting those words.

Meanwhile, SXR is facing another crisis as the opera singer who he was replacing while he was out sick as suddenly decided to come back, probably because he is jealous at the success our little divo is having. Xiao Lai can’t believe this bullshit, especially since they are running out of place to perform.

Waiting like a teenage boy for his crush, CFT is standing next to his car, when he spots Shang Lao Ban coming out of the theater with Xiao Lai. He presses on the horn to get his crush’s attention and I swear this is the cutest thing ever. SXR sends away Xiao Lai who does not seemed to happy that her boss is spending time with the businessman. Shang Lao Ban asks Er Ye how long he has been waiting in the cold instead of coming backstage. CFT looks at him like a man in love looks at his object of affection. I am so jealous of this fictional character! Seriously, he is practically gazing at the other man, who can only smile and asks where they are going. Oh my, is this their first date? I squeal! He is taking him for an afternoon tea and actually wants to know what he would like to eat. Our little glutton tells him that he wants something sweet and opens the door to let him in. I need to pause for a second, tis tew much.

SXR is scarfing down on a chocolate cake and asks where Er Ye went after the show. He wants to have his opinion about his performance, which CFT tells him it was really great. In other operas, Yang Guifei would be forced to die at Mawei Station, but SXR version sang about willingly giving her life for love, turning the damsel into a hero. He was especially struck by one of the lyrics, which is the same lyrics SXR loves about the opera, brought to tears.

CFT flashes a 1000 watt smile upon hearing that and tells him that his performance of Palace of Eternal Youth does not resemble other version of this opera and should be called something else, like the Legend of the Flourishing Tang Dynasty. A little history background here. Yang Guifei was Emperor Ming of Tang’s favored concubine, whom he stole from his own son. Apparently he lavished her with gifts, built an expensive pavilion for her, neglecting his duties as an Emperor, so much so there was a rebellion. Wanting to stop the rebellion, the courtiers forced the Emperor to demand Yang Guifei to be killed as they saw her and her family as the reason for the unrest. Unlike the opera, she does not kill herself, but is killed by Gao Lishin and her body brought to the head of the rebellion as proof of her death. However, the marks the slow decline of the dynasty..

SXR is confused by what CFT is saying, not grasping the meaning behind the title. CFT explains that Palace of Eternal Youth is a love story between to high status people confined by their roles, that of an Emperor and his consort. They have to abide to what his expected of them in their respective roles. The play not only depicts this confinement, but also the rise and fall of a nation. SXR version of the play since about a flourishing dynasty yet it is focus on a tragedy of sacrifice, which could be reflected in 1930s China before the horrors of the occupation and the valiant resistance from both communists and nationalists to oust the invaders. This goes above the uneducated SXR who explains to CFT that in the second act of the play, Yang Guifei had angered the Emperor in a fit of jealousy , but afterwards made up. The reason for the disagreement was due to the fact the Emperor was enamored with another woman called JIang Caiping, feeling Yang Guifei sacrificed herself for no reason. CFT sees a parallel between SXR situation with Mengping and his story. SXR tells him that indeed he sees himself in the stories he sings. CFT tells him that he understands as he used to see that opera performers were similar to their characters, but when he saw SXR performed Yang Guifei, he was more than a mere embodiment but was the actual person, which makes SXR sees that CFT understands his performance in depth, and adds that he was using his soul to perform. This gets CFT to smile, one that I bet even his wife never seen. It is a naked smile what they shows his true emotion. We are witnessing the connection of two souls here and it's a beautiful thing. Once again, how this past censorship is beyond me.

Look at this smile!

Meanwhile the troupe is waiting. I have a feeling Xiao Lai told the troupe their leader had left with Er Ye. As soon as the duo appears, everyone stands up in attention. SXR shouts to Xiao Lai to warm up some wine, while Shi Jiu is trying her best to put her flirt on. Oh sis, you are wasting your time. The man is not interested.

She comments that finally her boss is seeing the light, associating himself with Commander Cao’s BIL is the next best thing than getting the actual man to dispel the rumors and help them out of their desperate situation. The duo chat some more, over wine, talking about the difference between Western Opera and Eastern Opera performers, especially the castrato. They talk about skills needed to be a good singer. They get drunk, so much so that SXR and are hilarious.

SXR is in his first costume he ever used when performing and despite being average compared to now, he considers it his most prized one; it is his armor, his guts. I have to say it is a beautiful piece, showcasing the meticulous work put in Eastern embroidery and their use of pearls.

CFT reveals that he wrote a story when he was in school abroad. SXR says he is not surprised since he can see that Er Ye understands the art on a deeper level and why they are connecting. CFT tells him of his story, which is about a woman who eloped with a man she loved, but who abandoned. While she waited at home, she had many lovers, who came and gone, until the woman finally realize that she didn’t need these men in her life. They were just a passing folly, not dependable to ensure her happiness and that by controlling her fate, she can do so. She went on to open her own weaving shop, taking in widows and orphans and went on to have great success, so much so, she was asked by the Empress to make her clothes. Damn, that is a freaking good story! They laugh and SXR thinks the morale of the story is that for a woman to control her fate, she needs money. Hmm.. aren’t we all? Shang Lao Ban reminds might be too progressive for Beijing Opera; instead the protagonist would be killed. CFT tells him that stories transcends culture or gender which seems to make SXR teary. As a performer, he is seen as the dregs of Chinese society, lower than a prostitute, despite the fame. I bet he wished to live in a world that would dispense of this hierarchical structure and see his profession respected by those in higher status. He tells CFT that he would love to play this type of woman, and I am hoping this is a hint of collaboration between the two. I actually would love to see him play this kind of character.

The troupe is eavesdropping, hoping their leader would hit up CFT’s wallet to help them out when Lao Ge comes in looking for his boss. They push him out, claiming Cheng Er Ye is not inside. Shi Jiu says they should keep anyone from interrupting since it might be their only opportunity; Dashen replies that it depends on their leader’s abilities to charm beg Cheng Er Ye for help.

Meanwhile, the duo is still discussing opera. Er Ye does not understand that for the sake of expediency, why not only wear a mask like the Japanese kabuki performers do, which would save time on makeup. This appears to make SXR laugh hard. He tells Er Ye that it is not the same thing because you will not be able to see the facial expression, which are an integral part of the opera. Wearing a mask is like being a ghost on stage, a bit like dubbed voices take away the essence of the emotions conveyed by the actors (any C drama fans would understand).

They drink again and SXR reveals this has been the happiest day since he came to Beijing. He never expected to become kindred spirits with Commander Cao’s BIL. CFT ponders about the title, which constrains me like the rest of his life. But SXR sees through the facade of a man who seems powerful and wealthy, like the fictional character, General Gao Yaonei who took Lin Chong’s wife, but turns out to be a good person, while CFT also had the wrong picture of Shang Lao Ban as an arrogant prima donna on the cray cray side, but is actually a good person as well. Shang Lao Ban is asleep and he looks so cute. The troupe is still standing at the door when a drunk Cheng Er Ye stumbles out. The troupe does not want to let him go back home and convince him to stay by claiming their leader would beat him up if he leaves without saying goodbye. Lol these sneaky mofos. It actually succeed and Cheng Er Ye returns to sleep with our adorable Shang Lao Ban. They have no idea they are helping the ship sail.

Meanwhile, the weasel family(Jiang father and son) are discussing SXR financial problems and the fact he had to pawn his costume to pay the rent. They are jubilating at the difficulties Shuiyin troupe is facing, especially since they are a big one and there are bound to have problems as morale starts to get low and the funds disappears. With losing his spot at the theater and not being shrewd, he will have problems raising money, leading to his own people turning against him. Its the next day and the member wants to know how his chat with Cheng Er Ye went, in the hope they got themselves a rich sponsor. SXR is like “the hell are you talking about? What difficulties?” Then it dawns on him what they are asking and that angers him. He lets them know that his “friendship" with Er Ye is on a different level, one of being kindred spirits. He wouldn’t dare use him for money.

They grumble until CFT appears; he looks like he didn’t sleep on a cushy mattress like he has at home. CFT asks if SXR heard some rumbling noises last night and SXR asks if it hail last night. Judging from his face, he knows where this noise came from and Dashen confirms it was loud snoring. LOL. SXR is obfuscated, claiming he never snores. Xiao Lai brings out the rinse and CFT is also given one. As he is about to rinse his mouth, SXR breaks out in a voice exercise that makes CFT gulped the rinse. LOL There’s a competition between him and one of the merchant selling fried pancake. There’s a knock on the door and the merchant as left a piece of fried dough for Shang Lao Ban, claiming it as gift. He splits it and gives a piece to CFT, who can’t turn it down, but you can tell has no interest in putting this commoner’s food in his stomach. So boogie. While CFT struggles to eat the dough, SXR invites to take him somewhere fun, but the troupe goad Xiao Lai to remind SXR they have to clean out the backstage of the opera house, hoping CFT would hear about their troubles. SXR is having none of that, sending some of them to clean out their stuff. He clearly does not want to ask money from CFT and I can’t blame him. Money has a way to create unease and inequality, especially in a budding relationship/friendship. Once you owe someone money, it causes problem, especially when you have to pay it back. SXR leaves with CFT in tow, who still has not taken a bite of the fried dough, leaving it behind for the others. The way he drops the pancake and wipes his hand is so boogie, I cannot.

They walk through a street where many circus-like performers are showing their talent. They are walking so closely to each other already, le sigh. The area is called Tianqiao and someone in the Viki comments stated this is the closest to the amusement park date trope so prevalent in Asian dramas, and I couldn’t agree more. CFT compares it to the Shanghai’s Great World Amusement Park, confirming the statement above. It is apparently an entertainment and amusement arcade, which opened back in 1917. Shang Lao Ban reveals that he once sang there and despite the place having a roof which would carry his voice better, he prefers the open air of Tianqiao. Clearly not full from the friend pancake, he goes and buys persimmon cake. Geez where does the food go?! He offers one to Er Ye who, of course, turns it down.

Look how close they are walking!!!

Unbeknown to him, he is the victim of a pickpocket. Trying to get his money to buy cigarette (hmm... wait, this is far more unhealthy than the greasy food Shang Lao Ban is offering you bro!), he realizes what happened. Our kung fu penguin goes after the thief and kicks ass. Seriously, he is amazing. CFT looks like he is enjoying seeing his crush fighting skill, especially he is far more proficient with a gun than his fists. He gets the money back and tells the thief to leave. CFT asks why he didn’t take the thief to the cops, but SXR tells him the way of the street is that if a thief got his ass kicked, that is sufficient punishment. CFT asks about his kung fu skills, saying it is is good looking (Ohhh); SXR reveals it is a skill that has been passed down from his father, the Shang Family Rod, a type of martial arts that is different from the fake fighting on stage that can do real damage. CFT comments that SXR must have been beaten a lot when he was a child, which the singer admits. If you seen Farewell My Concubine, you know the abuse these kids go through to become performers. It is gross. SXR invites CFT to continue with their walk and this is where it ends.

Ooof, this episode was heavy in emotion and exposition. I truly think this is where the infatuation Cheng Fengtai had developed for our little divo turns into love and where Shang Xirui gets to see the shrewd businessman has someone who possesses a similar artistic passion who had to give it up for circumstances out of his control. He is like the real Yang Guifei who was forced to accept her fate and be killed by Gao Lishi, whereas Shang Xirui of the opera who chose to sacrifice herself for her love, giving himself fully to his passion. We are also seeing how much the troupe is suffering because of the rumored feud with Commander Cao, which sets up lots of conflicts that will set up the end of our act 1 and push our protagonists to make a decision that will forever change their lives.

#winter begonia #shang xirui #cheng fengtai #andrew yin #Yin Zheng #spoilers #episode recap #episode 6 #huang xiaoming #please watch it #beautiful drama

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ddagent · 4 years

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Hiii! I'm so in love with the podcast verse. Can I formally request another bit about them, in case you were planning to continue their shenanigans? Thank you!

Prompt #95, here we go! I hope you enjoy.

B: Today’s episode of The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden is sponsored by Blackwater Brewery.

J: What have I got to do—

B: —just read that bit out.

J: Who wrote this?

B: Bronn did. Just read it out.

J: We don’t need sponsors.

B: Yes we do, Jay. Your ancestor may have had a golden hand, but you don’t have two gold dragons to rub together and neither do I. Buying all these books costs money, as does the equipment, as does the wine necessary to forget some of the things we’ve read. So just read it.

J: Fine. For you. Today’s episode of The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden is sponsored by Blackwater Brewery. Made in King’s Landing, this beer is good. Tastes good enough, not that any of the rich...people who live in King’s Landing could tell the difference. Get a free case at blackwaterbrewery.com, using the voucher code golden cunt. Fucking Bronn.

B: Probably should have mentioned that this podcast contains strong language from the outset, literary violence, and explicit sexual content.

(tourney horn plays)

J: Well, listeners, welcome to another episode of The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden. Last week we began reading a paperback Bee picked up during a visit to Estermont with Papa Bee: The Wedding at Dragonstone. Bee, why don’t you describe the cover.

B: Oh Gods, alright. So it’s a dark blue—

J: —one would almost say Tarth blue—

B: —cover, with what I assume to be Goldenhand and Ser Blue in a passionate embrace. He’s shirtless, and standing behind her. She’s in a white gown, with a red cloak, and there looks to be lions head broaches on her shoulders.

J: The dress is also gathered up towards her thigh revealing a lot of leg.

B: She’s got her neck tilted back towards him, as if Ser Blue was ever shorter than Goldenhand. And they both look very...happy.

J: They’re on the brink of orgasm.

B: Sure.

J: So, The Wedding at Dragonstone is one of the many historical fiction novels set after the Long Night. It features the wedding between Queen Daenerys Stormborn and King Jon of the South. I’ve actually just led a module on Queen Daenerys—

B: —which you received complaints about in the student feedback forms.

J: It is our duty as historians to question these figures and their decisions.

B: You argued that if Goldenhand had had breakfast after the Sack of Highgarden, he would have been able to kill one of her dragons.

J: I truly believe his blood sugar was low that day.

(Bee laughs)

B: You are utterly ridiculous.

J: And yet, you’re still spending time with me.

B: (deep sigh) Yes, I am. Back to the book: as we discussed in the last episode, there is no historical basis for this marriage. Whilst there are documented accounts of a relationship between them before the Long Night, Queen Daenerys Stormborn became Queen Daenerys of Valyria and remained across the sea until her death.

J: So The Wedding at Dragonstone never happened. Our interest, however, is how accurate it is as an alternate history.

B: Last chapter, Goldenhand and Ser Blue arrived at Dragonstone after—

J: —having sex in the bowels of the ship, as loud as a siren’s song.

B: Oh, Gods.

J: And now they’ve been taken to their rooms, where they’re alone once again.

B: I read last week, so it’s your turn.

J: With pleasure. Chapter II: The Ties That Bind. After they had been escorted to their chambers for the duration of the wedding, Goldenhand summoned wine and bread to sate his hunger and thirst. His lust would be satisfied with his betrothed, who had placed herself at the window to stare out at the unyielding sea. In two days time, King Jon would take the Dragon Queen’s—right, I’ve just read ahead, and clearly, they haven’t done their research.

B: She was married to a Khal, wasn’t she.

J: She was, and to someone else in Meereen. King Jon has nothing to take on his wedding night, other than pleasure in his new bride, of course.

B: Of course.

J: King Jon would take the Dragon Queen’s innocence (Jay laughs) upon the snow-white sheets. In time, he and Ser Blue would also face a bedding ceremony. Only he had claimed her maidenhead many moons before, and would do so again before they returned to their ship for home. That’s not how biology works.

B: Do you remember Cee’s module on the prevalence of the virginity myth in ancient Westerosi culture? I really want to send every author we read a copy of her paper.

J: We really would need sponsors, then. The postage alone...

B: Just keep reading.

J: (adopts a low voice) “Ser Blue, is my lady well?”

B: (laughs) What was that?

J: I’m doing the voices.

B: We’re not babysitting your niece and nephew.

J: You like my voices when we read Rhaegal the Friendless Dragon.

B: Fine, but if we get complaints from our listeners, that’s on you.

J: Okay. (low voice) “Ser Blue, is my lady well?” (high-pitched voice) “Of course, my golden lion!”

B: (splutters) She does not sound like that!

J: If you want to read this chapter, be my guest. But when I read, I’m doing the voices. (low voice) “Well, then come from the window, my Sweetling. My appetite grows dangerous, and I wish to feast upon your cunt.”

B: Surely he can wait for the bread and wine.

J: He’s a hungry man. (high-pitched voice) “I wish to aid you in your feast, my lion. Lie upon the bed, let me bring your plate to you.” What the fuck.

B: I’m really worried what she’s going to do.

J: Does the potential for cannibalism make this book more or less interesting? (sighs) Goldenhand stripped himself of his tunic and breeches, made with loose stitches so he could remove them himself. Has Jeyne Swann invented velcro centuries earlier than thought?

B: It’s like he’s a stripper.

J: He then settled himself atop the bed, his golden hand caressing the hand line of his turgid length. Where did this come from, that his golden hand was large enough to fit his penis in?

B: You should do a paper, present it at the conference in two months.

J: ‘The Inaccurate Representation of Goldenhand the Just’s Metal Appendage’. Can you imagine Doctor Barath—”

B: Jay.

J: Doctor Antlers would burst a blood vessel.

B: Just keep reading. I’m mildly interested to see if the poor writing continues to allude to Goldenhand actually eating his betrothed.

J: He’s going to need something to wipe his mouth, whatever happens.

B: You’re disgusting.

J: Don’t knock the experience until you’ve tried it, Bee. On either side of the equation.

(tourney horn plays)

#twelvemonkeyswere #mine: paragraph prompts #ship: braime #braime #jaime x brienne #fic: podcast verse

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reynesofcastamere · 4 years

Text

Thrown Gauntlet[Ω]

(A/N: Sooooo....I’ve decided to start another series of fics that I will be marking with [Ω] in the titles: To disinguish them from both the main series (which I am still working on) and the [β] drabbles (which are all over the place in terms of timeline, setting, universe, etc.). Essentially a very self-indulgent AU where Savage, Maul, and Feral all get adopted by Clan Wren. This installment takes place in 20 BBY, so Ahsoka is around 16 and Maul is about 34. However. I want to state outright that the dynamic is intended to be a verrrrry slow build and that nothing romantic and/or sexual will be occurring between Maul and Ahsoka until MUCH later. If what I’ve described does not sound like your personal cup of tea, then by all means, feel free to give this fic and/or series a pass. This is getting a bit long, so to sum up: No trigger warnings, Obi-Wan is an Incurable Flirt, Rex is Flustered, and Maul is about 100% Done With Everyone’s Nonsense. Unbeta’d) The Jedi Temple is buzzing. Not literally, of course, but Ahsoka can feel a strange vibration in the Force. Excitement, or maybe irritation? There’s definitely quite a bit more whispering amongst her fellow Jedi and the clone troopers she passes on her path to the east hangar. Master Anakin had told her to pack for a long trip, which she can only assume means they’ve been assigned another mission and he’s withholding the details so as to ‘surprise’ her appropriately. Typical Skyguy.

She spots Rex near the door, sans helmet. “Good morning, Captain.” A proper salute, quickly returned, though her tone is light. “Morning, Commander. And-er, yes, it certainly is.” He actually seems to be fidgeting a bit, and his face- “Rex, are you...blushing?” “N-no. No. Just-ah...Finished up my workout routine. Took more out of me than I expected. You know how it is; One day you’re all shiny-new and the next you feel older than General Yoda.” “Reeeeexxxx....Come on, whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

“The Clawbirds arrived about an hour ago. Captain Wren’s refusing to do much of anything until he finishes repairs on General Skywalker’s ship.” Rex caves, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Master Anakin can’t be too happy about that.” Ahsoka observes, knowing just how...particular he is about his personal projects. “Should I be worried?” “Er...maybe? It’s kind of a toss-up. Depends on whether M-” He begins, before a subtler voice cuts in. “Captain, there you are. I was hoping to speak to you.” The speaker is a male Zabrak with soft golden-yellow eyes and skin, the latter of which is liberally patterned in brown markings. Unusual enough, but he’s also clad in full Mandalorian armor, helmet tucked under one arm and carrying what looks like field medic gear along with the standard jetpack and arsenal of weapons. And he’s glowing; a defined Force signature radiating Light and positive energy like a solar lamp. How-? “Medic Sergeant Wren. They are still getting along, right?” “Oh yes. He’s in a much better mood than last time. Apologies, am I interrupting?” “Thank the Maker. And no, um. Commander Tano, this is Medic Sergeant Feral Wren.” Rex looks like he’s in danger of heatstroke with how red he’s gotten. It’s not hard to see why, especially when Feral gives a smile that could melt half the ice on Bahryn. Rather than salute her, he stretches his right hand out so that they can clasp forearms briefly, a greeting from one warrior to another. “It’s a pleasure, Medic Sergeant.” She smiles back. Ahsoka can’t help it. He’s just...She’s fighting the urge to hug him like some kind of stuffed animal toy. Which is bizarre and will most definitely not be happening anytime soon. “Tano...Oh, you must be ‘Snips’. It’s almost a shame Savage volunteered to help the younglings train, we’ve both wanted to meet you for some time now.” Wait, what? “Tranyc’vod [Sunny(star-burned) brother] Anakin hasn’t been able to call as often, but he’s very proud of your accomplishments.” Feral remarks, genuinely pleased even as her head spins with the implications. Her Master has a lot of explaining to do. “Speaking of which, I’d better not keep him waiting much longer. I look forward to talking to you again, though. See you later, Captain. Maybe you should ask the Medic Sergeant about those stamina issues you’re having?” She can’t resist ribbing Rex as she departs, watching him splutter as Feral, like any good medic, starts making inquiries about his ‘condition’ while looking him over. And placing a hand on his chestplate, apparently. Huh. Maybe her friend’s obvious crush isn’t quite as one-sided as she’d thought. Ahsoka navigates her way through the semi-organized rows of ships. Even if Anakin’s presence in the Force wasn’t abnormally strong, she doesn’t need to focus to find him. Not when he’s talking loud enough to be heard across half the hangar. “-last time, it’s fine! You’re just being paranoid, as usual.” “Every ship I have been forced to borrow from you has either crashed, suffered a critical malfunction, or was confined to the scrap heap mere hours after landing. No one is setting a foot on this poorly-constructed death trap until I am absolutely certain it won’t spontaneously combust mid-flight.” And that must be Captain Wren. He sounds...irritated, to say the least.

“My ships run perfectly, thanks. Must hurt that Mando pride, knowing a Jedi is a better pilot and mechanic than you, Captain.” She’s not quite within visual range yet, but she knows her Master is smirking. “How sad that as a Jedi, you cannot recognize your own failings, General. Perhaps you should conduct a survey of your ‘victims’ instead of this poor attempt at distraction. Mir’osik adiik be’kyorla hut’uun![Dung for brains child of (a) rotten coward!]-” “Ouch. What, did one of your horns get caught in the hydraulics?” “Hilarious. Make yourself useful by grabbing a towel, or something from Kenobi’s closet. I’m coming out.” “Ah, Captain Wren. I thought the general ambience had improved. What were you saying about my clothing?” She hadn’t been aware of Master Kenobi’s presence before this. Either he’d used a secondary entrance or had been waiting for his chance to join the exchange while the captain was busy. “Kenobi.”

“Oh come now, surely you can muster a more polite greeting than that. You’ve been away so long I’ve had to listen to recordings just to remember the sound of your lovely voice.” “Perhaps I will address you with respect when you learn to stop leering at me, besom [ill-mannered lout].” “Busted. Again.” “You’re not helping, Anakin.” Ahsoka rounds a corner and-Oh. Wow. How far down do those-? She blinks a few times, just to be sure of what she’s seeing. Yep, there is a very shirtless Zabrak with the kind of muscle definition that would make scores of artists weep standing with his back to her and wiping his face off with a towel. She desperately hopes that her jaw is not hanging open as he turns his head to survey her with one vibrant yellow tourmaline eye. She honestly doesn’t know if she wants to draw closer or back away in that moment. His presence in the Force is not a benevolent, harmless light, but rather a controlled fire that sparks and issues dark threads of smoke. This...Ahsoka doesn’t understand what is going on, and it’s starting to make her uncomfortable. “The spy finally shows herself.” He remarks, assessing and dismissing her as a non-threat within the span of a few seconds, continuing to wipe off whatever type of mess had been spattered on him. “Don’t mind him, Snips. Someone shoved a shock baton up his ass years ago and the medics never found a way to pull it out. Tragic, really.” Anakin Skywalker grins, arms loosely folded across his chest and leaning against the outside of his ship. “Ahsoka, this is Maul. We’ll be working with him and his people for the forseeable future.” It clicks suddenly where she’s heard both his name and that of his group before: Captain Maul of Clan Wren and his company are the only Mandalorian supercommandos who will actually work with the Jedi Council. At least, when they’re not busy with bodyguard or mercenary jobs. Part of that involves what is referred to -with some awe and a lot of fear- as ‘running the gauntlet’, a mandatory training course for any Padawans or Knights posted to or intending to spend a considerable amount of time in the barely-civilized regions of space. It’s been suspended since the war started in earnest, but if they’re going to be sticking around for a while...Well, the implications are pretty serious. And Ahsoka has somehow managed to ogle one of the most infamous hardasses this side of the Mid Rim. Fantastic. Really. Maul disposes of the stained towel and turns to face her properly, Ahsoka’s gaze staying determinedly on his face as they grip each other’s right forearms. He doesn’t pull back after a few seconds as Feral had, hand locking in place as he seems to peer into her soul. “I will say this once. We are not like our evaar’la vod’e[young brothers]. We are not subservient to you, and I do not accept excuses or blatant disrespect.” A pause and a slight increase in pressure, just below the threshold of inflicting pain. “Are you ready, Ahsoka Tano?” “Yes, Captain.” She answers with a certainty that she can feel in her very bones, and is rewarded with the hint of a wry smile when he lets go. Well that’s...something. Master Kenobi clears his throat pointedly. Right. Mission briefing first. Sort out her feelings later. Still, she can’t help but look forward to whatever comes next. (A/N: *cracks knuckles* Well, that’s the first installment. A little vague on the details, but I’m hoping to elaborate on what’s been hinted at here relatively soon. The name of the supercommando company comes from the Legends novel Maul:Lockdown by Joe Schreiber. And yes, for fellow Rebels fans who are reading this thing: In this AU, Sabine and Tristan get three badass Zabrak-hybrid uncles and a fair amount of adopted cousins. (Which is entirely Savage’s doing.) I do believe that Anakin is a gifted mechanic, but also couldn’t resist the running joke of ‘Skywalker’s ships/anything he tinkers with only work for him and Artoo’. Cheers!)

#maulsoka #eventually #tbh this one is pretty gen aside from minor feral/rex and obi-wan failing his seduction roll #for like the hundredth time

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shimikonde · 4 years

Text

Romeo and Juliet and the Prisoner of Azkaban: Return of the King pt. 4 (4th light novel, pg 108-117)

part 4/5 of 1-b’s school play is finished!! i can’t believe that there’s only 10 more pages of this to translate now we’re almost finished!!

this chapter is a wild ride LMAO thank you so much to @rachiebird for betaing this again!!

also thank u to the people who remind me to get off my butt and actually do this it rly makes all the difference lmao

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“My pocket?”

As Romeo took the ring from his pocket, a dazzling light shined down across the entire stage. While the audience was still disoriented from the light, the gold-painted slice of chikuwa posing as a ring was lowered down. The plan was that, by the time the audience’s eyes had adjusted, it would look like the ring was floating.

Right then, Shiozaki appeared as the Spirit of the Ring and descended decinely upon the backs of Pony and Juurouta, a pair of hippogriffs. The howls of the hippogriffs only heightened Shiozaki’s aura of holiness, and the crowd let out cheers of delight in response. However, Monoma frowned as he noticed an unexpected smell, sniffing the air to find the source. It was the ring right in front of him.

“I am in no way the Spirit of the Chikuwa… I’m the Spirit of the Ring… No matter what anyone might say.”

It was from Shiozaki’s adlibbing and the meekness in which she did it that Monoma knew what the ring really was.

(Why chikuwa?!)

He held in the urge to shout out the retort with all his might. Monoma twitched a bit as he put on a surprised look at the Spirit of the Ring that had just appeared. “The Spirit of the Ring…?!”

“Listen closely, Romeo… The ring is with you… When you wish it, the ring will become your power… Furthermore, I am not the Spirit of the Chikuwa…”

Having reminded them, Shiozaki retreated back to the ceiling along with the roaring hippogriffs. Whispers of “why chikuwa?” came from all across the hall, but Monoma brushed aside their questions with his own booming voice. “Just now! What was that…! The Spirit of the Ring… You mean to say it’s the spirit of this ring, the ring that has been passed down through the royal family generation after generation…!”

And then he had a sudden realization, continuing, “There’s no time for this. I need to hurry and rescue Juliet, or else…!”

His expression was resolute as he stared far into the distance, the mood in the auditorium returning to normal. To Monoma, who had made it happen, all of the people in the wings sighed in relief, “He made it through.” Their roles having ended, Shiozaki and the rest also returned to the wings, relieved.

“I knew it, that guy really is amazing…”

Having said that, Tetsutetsu wolfed down a bite of the remaining chikuwa. It would be his turn on stage soon, so he was psyching himself up with a quick meal. The climax was quickly approaching, filling the wings with a sense of elation. After this, Count Paris would defeat Master Obi-Wan, declare himself Romeo’s real father, and then their confrontation would follow.

“Everyone, we’re going to cut the lights. This is the last set change, let’s do it.”

Everyone set their faces at the sound of Honenuki’s voice and went in standby positions for the set change. Next would be Count Paris’s castle, the scene of the final battle.

“Blackout in… six, five, four, three… cut the lights. We have fifty seconds.”

When Honenuki’s countdown reached ten seconds, Kaibara was heard saying, “I said we can talk about it later, break a leg!” before running off into the wings. Monoma looked after him like he wanted to say, “No, you’re misunderstanding…” but as the lights switched back on across the stage, he immediately switched over to Romeo.

“I finally made it… So, this is the castle that Rey said she saw…” Monoma muttered as he looked up at the eerie backdrop of a stone-cut castle. In the wings, the stagehands and the people whose roles had already finished were already acting as if the play had ended, having just managed to overcome the final major challenge.

In the midst of them, Honenuki never lost his cool, watching over the stage while giving the next directions.

“After this we still have the aerial combat. Standby positions.” Following Honenuki’s words, many people hurried over to various places in standby. “I’m counting on you, everyone…”

Tetsutetsu was waiting beside him, looking a bit nervous as he waited for his cue, so Honenuki called out to him in a quiet voice. “You’ll be fine. You’ve done this fine during practices. Just put your all into it. Ah, but you should still try to keep your voice down a little.”

“Yeah.”

Kodai, who was just behind them, nodded her head as if to say, “You’ll be fine.”

Tetsutetsu nodded back at the both of them. “Right, I can do this. Just leave it to me…”

At Honenuki’s signal, Tetsutetsu entered the stage. Recalling all of the instructions about acting that Monoma had given him during practice, Tetsutetsu waited for the right moment to draw the audience’s attention and spoke slowly and quietly, in a low, carrying voice.

“…my, I don’t remember inviting any guests. But I’ve been waiting for you, Prince Romeo.”

(…that’s right, just like that.)

Monoma gave a small smile at Tetsutetu’s performance before plunging himself into his own role.

“As suspected, that suspicious man was you, Count Paris! Where is Juliet?!”

“What I do with my possessions is my business…”

“It seems you have no intention of returning her… In that case, I’ll take her back myself!” Monoma let loose a roar as he slashed at Tetsutetsu. However, Tetsutetsu-as-Count Paris brushed him away in a single swing. Blown away, Monoma let out an awed, “This is no ordinary man…!”

“Wait, Romeo. Let me be the one to face that man.”

“You’re… Master Obi-Wan? Why?!”

Bondo-as-Master Obi-Wan appeared, lead by Nirengeki and Awase as Frodo and Sam.

Nirengeki said, “While we were searching for the king, Obi-Wan appeared before us. He said that he had something of the utmost importance to convey to you…!”

“Romeo, you often skipped out on your Force training, and you were by no means a good pupil. However, ever since you were born I’ve always thought of you as something of a grandson… That’s precisely why I, now, must be the one to defeat this man…”

“You’ve got quite the nostalgic face, Obi-Wan… But rather than a joyous reunion, I think it’s more befitting to call this a final farewell.” With his volume suppressed and a penetrating gaze, Tetsutetsu-as-Count Paris emitted a huge amount of presence just by standing, intimidating the audience.

In the wings, people were getting excited over Tetsutetsu and co’s performances.

“Tetsutetsu! That kid can do anything if he sets his mind to it!” Tsuburaba said while nodding his head up and down.

“What are you, his mom?” Kaibara quipped.

On stage, Tetsutetsu was completely villainous, casting out a menacing aura that made the two of them hold their breath and watch how the rest of the performance played out.

“This man is a ghost who was confined to Azkaban… A being who does not belong in this realm…”

Kuroiro fidgeted in the wings, as if Obi-Wan’s line had tickled his chunibyo heart.

Monoma-as-Romeo shouted in surprise, “In the infamous prison, Azkaban?! What horrible crimes could he have committed?”

“I died in Azkaban, and I was reborn. All in order to fulfill my duty.”

“Don’t say another word, evil being… Ha!”

Raising his hands, Obi-Wan turned to face Count Paris. “Oof,” Tetsutetsu said as he was attacked by the Force, getting blown back and floating in the air just like that.

“It seems your power has not faded over the years, Obi-Wan.”

“Master Obi-Wan!”

“All of you, stand back! I’ll…”

As he said that, Obi-Wan drifted up to the sky. From here on, it would be aerial combat using the Force. Using Pony’s “Horn Canon”, Tokage’s “Lizard’s Tail”, and Rin’s “Scales”, the two of them were able to be manipulated freely through the air.

“Ha!”

While showing off each Force attack, they flew around over the heads of the audience. Kaibara matched their blows, set off firecrackers that he’d prepared on the walls. Startled by the overflowing presence, the audience was unable to turn their eyes from the two of them. However, as if to control the enjoyment of the audience, Count Paris stared at Obi-Wan coldly and declared, “Obi-Wan, You haven’t changed at all… But I have… Since the last time we met, I’ve obtained tremendous power…!”

Count Paris landed the finishing blow on Obi-Wan. As Obi-Wan was blown all the way back to the stage, Romeo and the others rushed to him.

“Master Obi-Wan!”

“This can’t be… The most powerful man in all of Gondor has…!”

“Romeo… This is the one man we must never allow near our country… Okay…? You’re the one who will lead Gondor in the future…”

As Obi-Wan let out his death rattle, Romeo began to break into tears. “No… Obi-Wan, you can’t… I still have so much to learn from you…”

Count Paris approached him. “Prince Romeo… No, Romeo…”

“My prince!”

Romeo looked back at the sound of Frodo and Sam’s voices, then startled.

“Juliet!!”

Kodai-as-Juliet was standing on the castle terrace. Behind her, as if using the castle as a perch, a growling dragon leered at Romeo’s group.

Drying his tears, Romeo stood at once, facing his arch nemesis, Count Paris.

“My name is Romeo! Ghost of Azkaban, Count Paris! I’m tacking Juliet back!!”

But Count Paris turned, making a sorrowful face as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Romeo… You must have heard from Obi-Wan about your father. Him being the Kingdom of Gondor’s king… That was a lie.” Count Paris suddenly took off the hood he’d been wearing up until now and said decisively: “Romeo, I am your father.”

“YOU’RE LYING!!!”

Shock didn’t even begin to describe what Romeo was feeling, his emotions accentuated by theatrical acoustics and even further by the lights bathing him.

Having learned the shocking truth, all the audience could do was look on in mute awe.

“Now, how about you call me dad!”

“Never!!! What a foul lie! I can’t believe it, that you could be my father…! Besides, my father is alive! He’s not in the country now, but I will definitely find him!”

“That meddling Obi-Wan, filling you with lies. Listen, your father is actually—”

“Do you think I’d keep listening to your nonsense?! I’m saving Juliet, now!” Saying that, Romeo swung at Count Paris. However...

“…huh? Is something wrong with Tetsutetsu?” asked Kaibara from the wings, noticing Tetsutetsu’s state. The plan was that he was supposed to beautifully avoid Monoma’s attack, but instead he was hunched over, holding his stomach. Monoma also seemed surprised at the sudden development, appearing unsure of how to continue.

“He looks kinda pale… Is he not feeling well or something?” said Honenuki, who had noticed the same thing and was now looking worriedly at Tetsutetsu on the stage.

“Ah, could it be this?!”

Setsuna, flustered, was holding the plastic bag the chikuwa had come in. The expiration date had passed a fair while ago. Everyone’s heads swung back to Tetsutetsu with concern, watching Tetsutetsu writhing from the pain of his sudden stomachache.

This is what Monoma had been trying to say earlier, that the chikuwa smelled as if it’d gone bad.

“Jeez! He never pays mush attention to these things!”

Komori was so worried that she’d worked herself into an angry huff, which Kuroiro tried to calm with a, “Th-there, there.”

Thinking carefully, Honenuki played the role given to him and said calmly, “In any case, we need to get Tetsutetsu off the stage. At this rate, he won’t be able to do anything.”

After seeing Tetsutetsu’s state, there were no objections. That said, there was one problem.

“But how?”

“Not to mention, how are we going to even do this scene without Tetsutetsu? We can’t just rely on Monoma alone... We could tell Tetsutetsu to leave the stage for health reasons, but if we do—”

It would mean they had to completely change the script and end in adlib. But was that even possible?

“Rather than ending on a bad note, maybe it’d be better to quit while we’re—”

Honenuki shook his head at Rin, who had offered the suggestion merely as one possible option.

“…The show must go on. Once the curtain’s drawn, we can’t close it again until we’ve finished the play. It’s out of respect to the people who came to see us, and also our pride as the people putting on the play.”

“…!”

Looking at everyone’s surprised faces, Honenuki continued, “…is what was written in the Stage Director’s book.”

“The book?!” Tsuburaba shot out, but Honenuki continued to speak gently, in an attempt to calm everyone down.

“But, you know. We’ve all worked so hard up until now, just for this day. I don’t really want to end it half-way, either.”

From the day they decided on the program, all of their weekends, their time after school, and even their breaks had all been dedicated to bringing their strength together and making a great play. They only had one chance to perform: it was all for this play.

Even before Honenuki said anything, everyone was already overflowing with passion.

Rin spoke for everyone. “Let’s do it. To the end.”

Class B had made up their minds. Now they just needed to figure out how.

Honenuki spent a short time organizing his thoughts before saying, “First, in order to get Tetsutetsu back, we need to avert the audience’s attention from the stage.”

#bnha light novel #class 1-b #bnha #juzo honenuki #monoma neito #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #ibara shiozaki #sen kaibara #kojiro bondo #ok there were more but i'm done tagging characters #UM wow is all i can say #they rly went there #i'm so proud of all of these kids tho they're trying their best #honenuki for president #every single day i marvel at the fact that this is canon

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