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tcm · 3 years

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A Conversation with Patty McCormack on Growing Up on Screen By Kim Luperi

Not many child stars go on to enjoy long, successful careers in show business – and fewer still have earned a prestigious Academy Award nomination before they turned 18. Patty McCormack has achieved both. The actress, who made her first film appearance in 1951 and went on to star in THE BAD SEED (’56, for which she received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress as the murderous Rhoda at age 11); THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN (’60) and THE YOUNG RUNAWAYS (’68), continues to work in Hollywood and shows no indication of slowing down.

I had the pleasure of speaking with McCormack recently about some of these titles and more, including the delightful film KATHY O’ ('58) in which she plays a famous child star – an apt springboard for a discussion about growing up on screen and transitioning into more mature roles over her incredibly long, accomplished career.

(This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

I was watching KATHY O’ last night, and I really enjoyed it. In that movie they talk about your blonde pigtail braids as a trademark, and I realized it kind of was; you had that hairstyle in THE BAD SEED and ALL MINE TO GIVE (’57), too. Do you know how that style came about, or was it something you did that caught on?

Patty McCormack: It seems to be! I believe I even had them early on in Mama, which was an old live TV show that was a weekly event. I don't know how that [trademark] happened. I think it just happened because of THE BAD SEED – I think it was the hairdo that I went in with or they just decided on. When you see the original artwork on William March’s book, there’s a very long face drawing of Rhoda, his Rhoda, and there were braids in it. I don't know if they were looped or what, but that could have been it – or I honestly don't remember if it was chosen by my mom because it was easy, but it stuck!

I loved KATHY O’ because I got to live the dream. I loved the notion of them cutting my hair off – except it was a wig that they cut. After a while it felt like I didn't want to look like an older person with braids – you have to get rid of them eventually. As soon as I could, I wanted hair that was like, in that era, a page boy or something like that, where it landed on your shoulder. But I carried that long hair for a long time. And then you know how you revert back to certain hairdos years later?

They come back in style.

PM: Yes, they come back, but now I have shortish hair, and I'm growing it one length. So I got over the braids – just in the nick of time!

Circling back to Rhoda, you originated the role on Broadway before the film version, so you obviously had a lot of practice and familiarity with the part before you took it to the screen. Since she's such a chilling character, how did you get into that mindset at age nine, especially when you had to play the part multiple times a week?

PM: I always go back to the source, and the source was the director, Reginald Denham. He was so good with directing me. He made it fun, because I learned when I'd get an audience reaction on a face I’d make or something, I'd look forward to doing that again – you know, that kind of joy.

He made it so clear and simple, and his point of view was that Rhoda was always right. I know I've said this before, but it's the truth. No matter what anybody says, Rhoda is correct, and anything she wants, she feels entitled to – not using that word ‘entitled’ – but I really wasn't thinking of myself as a bad person, or especially not a murderer. I just thought it was their fault, which is classic, I guess. I had to kill him [the little boy] because he was so mean. So I think that was how I learned to be that character. I was aware of the murders – people were dead because of me, that I knew – but somehow it wasn't disturbing to my mind. If you take a look at it knowing that, you see it. I'm not coming from some sort of evil place, I don't think.

You were nominated for an Oscar for THE BAD SEED, which is amazing; it's a true testament to your talents, of course, but it’s also such a big accolade to have at such a young age. Do you remember there being any pressure on you for your next role?

PM: Well, the role was so odd for a kid to be so noticed, in that era anyway. I can't think of any jobs I didn't get after that that somebody else got, you know? What happened, though, was that each year I grew, and so I just experienced the typical kid actor dilemma which is going from category to category and establishing yourself in that category and learning how to be in that category. I did do something on Playhouse 90 – I did a few PLAYHOUSE 90s back then – and I did a lot of television –

You played Helen Keller [in the original 1957 Playhouse 90 teleplay “The Miracle Worker”].

PM: That's what I was going to say! That was after THE BAD SEED. But mostly, as far as movies went, there was KATHY O’ and a few here and there and at different levels of development. I was always aware that it had been a while since I worked, that I felt, but I didn't think business, like “What will I follow up that with?” I didn't have that kind of mentality, and I really don't think my mother did either, so it just sort of went the way it went.

As you mentioned too, you were still growing up. So, you’re a child, then a teenager, then young adult. You probably wouldn’t be thinking about the business part of it.

PM: No, it's so strange. It's not an easy transition, and as you know famous people go through really hard things. You don't get to sit and relax in a certain mode for too long because before you know it you're in the next one. And then you go through your ‘ugly period’ in front of everybody, which is horrible.

The movie that you mentioned TCM is going to air, THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, when I see the headshots from that I just think, “Aw, I looked uncomfortable!” I could see it even in my body. I felt like I was at the awkward time – you know, part of me was getting bigger, developing – and that hairdo they gave me didn't help; it was still the braids but wrapped up.

I want to ask you about that transition. Did you find anything difficult or surprising about navigating Hollywood and growing up on screen?

PM: The most difficult part, honestly, as a person growing up – I think at the time I always say Sandra Dee was the person we all looked to. She was just so beautiful, and no one else looked like that – maybe Carol Lynley a little bit – but the bar was set very high. With that, you’re insecure anyways because you’re at that age, and more than anything you don't want to be different. I think that's true for a lot of kids. So the maturing, that part of development, was difficult when I look back. You don't have the confidence that you had as a little kid when you don't think about anything. You become all self-conscious about how you look, if you're thin enough, if you’re pretty enough, if your hair looks nice. It's a little bit of an adjustment to get through all that and go back to what you like to do, which is to pretend, and take the focus off what you look like or who you look like or any of that stuff. I don't know if other kid actors had the same experience, but usually people grow out of a look that made them known – most of us anyway, not all of us.

I know when you left Hollywood you went back to Brooklyn and finished high school there. What was that experience like for you?

PM: Well, I took my real name back, and I was going to the high school that my mother and older sister went to, so I was really excited. This is going to sound so weird, but it was almost like playing a part – I was playing the part of a high school student. My real name is Russo, so I was Patty Russo. The experience was really kind of shocking, because I think they expected me to be very conceited, and so I had to hide in the cafeteria in the early days, because it was Brooklyn and they were pretty tough – they were on me! But I made a best friend who helped me navigate through it, and it turned into a nice experience finally. I was glad to have had that.

Then I came back out here [Los Angeles], and I stayed with a friend of my mother's family for a while. I wound up leaving Utrecht [her Brooklyn high school] – it’s a long story – but I did a soap opera in between while I was going to Utrecht, and that was kind of tricky because they weren't flexible like California was. In California they were used to kid actors, and in New York at that time, they really weren't. Then when I came out here, I went back to finish high school at Hollywood Professional and got my diploma that way. But I'm so glad I got to go back to Brooklyn. I'm pleased about that.

It sounds like you had a pretty grounded childhood, especially in attending a regular high school. Do you think that helped how you adjusted when you returned to the film industry?

PM: It was a little bit too grounded, I think! I came from a really good family. I never thought that I was a big deal, and they [her mom and dad] made sure of that. So, coming back to the industry after, I really didn't know the ropes. People handled all that before – the only thing I knew was what I did, and so some things maybe didn't get handled so well, but I learned on my feet when I came back out here. Then I married my childhood boyfriend and we had our children, and I kept working.

Yes, you’ve worked steadily since then.

PM: I did work a lot! It’s true. Nothing on the level of nominations, but I was a journeyman, I like to say.

You've spent six decades in the industry, which is really astounding, especially since you started as a child. I read an interview from 1974 that featured a humorous quote from you that I’d like to share. You said that you lamented that you never got the guy in movies and just once you wanted to “kiss the guys instead of kill them.”

PM: That is funny!

But throughout your career, you played Helen Keller, you played a career woman in THE BEST OF EVERYTHING (’70), you played Pat Nixon more recently in FROST/NIXON (’08), so you've had a lot of experience with different characters. Was there any genre or any type of character that you wish you could explore further?

PM: Well, I'll tell you the truth, it's actually seven decades from when I started, although if you want to make me younger, I don't mind! At this point in time, I'm so grateful when I work, because there could be nothing now, you know? I do enjoy what comes along. The only thing I never got to do, which I would have loved, was to have been in a habit – I would have loved to have played a nun in a habit.

That’s interesting.

PM: Isn’t it? It’s the Catholic school thing.

We’ll have to find you a role like that!

PM: I know, wouldn't that be fun? And it would be a nice way, in your later years, to go from a killer to a nun, you know? I think it would be a good idea.

Going in the right direction!

PM: Yes! But anyways, little things change here and there, and I sometimes do voiceovers, and I did something recently that I had never done, which was so much fun. Did you notice on Netflix a show called ARSENE LUPIN [working title for LUPIN]?

I haven’t heard of it, but I know there’s an old movie with the same name.

PM: Yes, this is a remake. It's in French, and I dubbed a French woman into English, and it was so much fun to do, to have someone else's face up there. I know some people watch foreign movies and they say, “Oh it's so unfair to dub the other actors,” and I probably wouldn't love it if somebody dubbed me either, but I had such a ball doing it. So, if you catch that show, you'll see somewhere in there I'm speaking English for a French woman.

I wanted to talk about two of your more recent roles. I know you starred in MOMMY in the 1990s, kind of a grown-up Rhoda, and you played a psychiatrist in the Lifetime remake of THE BAD SEED in 2018. This story has been filmed a few times; what do you think resonates with people, and how did it feel going back to that character and story but from different perspectives?

PM: Right. Well, to be honest, the Rob Lowe production [for Lifetime] was really a totally different story. There was no mom – he was the mom character – so the writing was really different.

There were two MOMMY movies: MOMMY (’95) and MOMMY’S DAY (’97). Those were written by a writer who lives in Muscatine, Iowa: Max Allan Collins. This is a long time ago now, but it was fun to grow her up, you know, physically. I talked to you about how that is the strange thing about transitioning, and it was so enjoyable to do that. It really was a journey for me internally.

There was also something about shaking hands with that, because in my day, it was never a good thing to have something so long ago be talked about all the time. I got that impression by other people's opinions, not my own, and as time went on, the world changed and people started knowing actors’ work from 20 years ago. So, the appreciation for that old work came back, and I learned to feel good about it through other people's feelings about it. I do have such a different perspective on it now, and it's a character that was so special. That really changed my ability as to how I could hold it [the role].

It’s nice to be able to do that.

PM: Yes, it is.

I have one more question for you. I know we’re in a pandemic and many productions are halted, but do you have any upcoming appearances that I can share with fans to look out for?

PM: Aw, I wish! It's funny, I did some Hallmark Christmas movies. Well, I did one, and then last year I was supposed to do another one, and they cut our parts because of COVID. So, I'm rooting for [the next one], and I have a good feeling, you know, when we have our vaccinations. Also, a downside was that they shoot in Canada, and they have to bring you up there, and at that time you had to stay in 14 days.

A lot of rules!

PM: Yes, a lot of rules. So hopefully there will be a new one. I can't honestly say, but there's no reason there shouldn't be!

My dad loves the Hallmark Christmas movies, and I watch a lot of them because of him, so I'll be rooting for you and looking out for you!

PM: I know, there's so many. People have blankets and all these things! There are real hard-core fans – it's amazing.

#patty mccormack #child actors #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #The bad seed #kim luperi #growing up on screen #acting #actor

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not-wholly-unheroic · 3 years

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Viewing Disney’s Peter Pan Through the Eyes of an Adult

Recently, I’ve seen several posts floating around talking about how Disney’s Hook is difficult for people to take seriously and is much too comical for what Barrie had intended. I grew up with Disney’s Hook. He was my first introduction to the character and the reason why I became interested in reading classic literature, writing fanfic, and seriously delving into the analysis of complex villainous/antagonistic characters, so he has a very special place in my heart and I’m prone to be quick to defend him. Rather than writing a long-winded reply to these individual posts, I decided to just make my own explaining why Disney’s Hook can be viewed as just as tragic and sympathetic as any other version. (You can also read some of my earlier posts defending Disney’s Hook here and here.)

*takes a deep breath* *cracks knuckles* Buckle up kiddos! You’re in for a long ride!

My view of Disney’s Hook as a tragic character lies primarily in my sympathy for him when he switches from a proud, elegant, dangerous character to a shivering mess of a man when the crocodile comes around. Let me attempt to elaborate--but first, a bit of a necessary digression.

Every film/book/play, etc. can be viewed from several perspectives. Typically, there is one character that we are meant to like and who becomes the primary focus of the story. Anyone who opposes that character is automatically an antagonist, if not a villain. Usually, even if the point of view is omniscient, we can still tell that it is not, perhaps, entirely objective in its portrayal of certain characters. This sort of situation happens all the time on the evening news--the interviewer is, in theory, supposed to be a neutral reporter on an incident, but it is often obvious that they favor one side of an issue over another, and as a result, the public's view of the situation and those involved is skewed. The lens through which we view a certain character tends to do the same thing. For instance, in Les Miserables (another favorite story of mine), Javert is viewed as an antagonist because the book is primarily concerned with the redemption story of Valjean; however, if the story was flipped and instead focused on the inspector's character and his transition from a strict legalist to a man so broken by the idea of morality that he commits suicide, he would, perhaps, be viewed instead as a tragic HERO instead of a tragic ANTAGONIST. Javert likely does many GOOD things in the name of the law as well during his career, but we don't see most of them because he isn't the main focus of the book. Similarly, I think Disney’s Hook can be more greatly appreciated as TRAGIC instead of COMICAL when we consider the lens through which we are viewing him.

Disney has always been geared toward children, so naturally, when they tell a story, they want the material to be attractive to a younger audience. This means not only that certain more frightening or upsetting elements of a story may be left out, edited, or altogether changed, but also that WE VIEW THE CHARACTERS THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD. (For example, in The Little Mermaid, King Triton's opposition to Ariel going to the surface world is presented in such a way that he seems extremely harsh when, in reality, he is father trying to keep his daughter safe. True, he DOES overreact, but remember, Ariel is only sixteen--not even LEGALLY an adult--and wants to run off with some guy she hasn’t even had a conversation with. But kids can relate to overbearing parents who, in a moment of disagreement, seem like they are being "mean," so that is how the audience sees Triton.) Peter Pan, especially, with its protagonist(s) as a child/children, really magnifies this perspective to the point where, unfortunately, some of the characters become almost caricatures of themselves. When children are legitimately afraid of something, they react one of two ways: Either they run from it/avoid it altogether, or they make-believe that whatever is frightening them is actually a lot less terrifying than it is so that they appear brave. I remember when I was younger, I used to be TERRIFIED of Monstro, the whale from Pinocchio. I couldn't watch the film without getting nightmares. But I didn't want to be afraid of watching the movie, so with my overactive imagination, I decided that I could fix that by turning him into a less scary version of himself and making him into an imaginary friend who more closely resembled Willy the anthropomorphic opera-singing whale from Make Mine Music than the terrifying creature we see in Pinocchio. Anyway, getting back to the point--I overcame my fear of the character by choosing to imagine that he was less scary than he was. This is what a lot of children do, and I think it's why Disney's Hook comes off as being comical.

The first time we see Disney Hook on screen, he actually comes across as pretty terrifying. He literally shoots his own crew member just because he didn't like the guy's singing! Rarely do we actually see Disney villains successfully kill another character on screen, but Hook does not even five minutes into his introduction. Immediately, we get the impression (or at least, a child should get the impression), that Hook is a genuinely dangerous guy. He also seems to regard his loss of a hand as "a childish prank," which further gives us the impression that he apparently has a pretty high pain tolerance and isn't afraid to do horrible, gruesome things to his enemies. If chopping someone's hand off is "childish," then what sort of serious damage does he inflict on his victims? However, this is Disney, and rather than having Hook gut someone or do something else which might scar a kid for life, we soon see he has a weakness...the crocodile. At this point, the Darling kids have been watching Hook for several minutes from their perch up on the cloud and are, probably, starting to have some second thoughts about fighting real pirates when they seem so scary...so what do they do? They do the same thing I did and turn him into a less-scary version of himself. They find his weakness and latch onto it. And since we're viewing things primarily from their perspective, that's how WE start to see Hook too. Hook's fear of the crocodile becomes comical for the audience because the Darling kids are trying to focus on that aspect of him so that they are can forget how terrifying he really is. We see this more frightening side of Hook come out a few more times, such as when he plans to blow up Pan's hideout...and at this point, we even catch a brief glimpse of the more sinister part of Smee when he asks Hook if it wouldn't be more humane for them to slit his throat...AND THIS IS SMEE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE!!! The LEAST frightening of the pirates in ANY version. But I think Disney throws this in just to remind us that Smee is still a pirate, and if HE'S willing to do something THAT bad, Hook is a thousand times worse. However, for the most part, Hook still remains a rather softened, comical version of himself because we are viewing him through the child-lens. Remove that lens, though, and things become more complicated.

Forget, for a moment, that we are supposed to be rooting for the Darling children and Pan, and look again--not as a frightened child who is trying to laugh in the face of danger but as an adult who can feel Hook's pain. I remember one time when I was driving back from the airport in a busy city in the dark and the road was icy...I'm not used to driving in ice, and I'm a naturally nervous driver...At one point, I skidded into the next lane... I literally spent about the next hour hyperventilating, practically rocking myself back and forth, praying, and trying not to cry because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to see the road. It was horrible... Take that sort of feeling, and I believe it's what Disney Hook is experiencing when the crocodile shows up. Through the "child-lens" it may be funny to see a frightening character in a vulnerable situation, but viewing it as an adult who understands just HOW helpless and terrified one feels in such a situation, you can't help but empathize with Hook. Every move he makes, every tremble in his voice, every look of absolute horror in his eyes tells you that he is not mentally or physically really functioning at the moment. He's on autopilot--he's in survival mode like a wild animal that freezes in hopes that it won't be seen by the approaching predator. Take away the crocodile's obviously silly "theme-music" and Hook's slightly overdone expressions, and you're left with something similar to what we see Hook experience in the novel near the end of the chapter, "The Pirate Ship." ("Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap...he crawled on his knees along the deck as far from the sound that he could go...'Hide me,' he cried hoarsely.") Now we can start appreciating him for the tragic villain that he is supposed to be.

Viewed through the eyes of the Darling children, Hook represents all that is frightening and bad about the grown-up world. If Peter is ice cream parties and summer vacations and catching fireflies in the dark, then Hook is cancer and broken dreams and being worried about being able to make enough money to put food on the table. Barrie, however, tells us that there is much more to both characters than that. Peter has a dark side--a selfish streak that forgets all pain at the cost of never learning from the past, never growing from his experiences and becoming a better person. He is stagnant not only in physically growing up but also in mentally facing reality, which is just as damaging as Hook's attitude of regretting a childhood apparently gone too soon. Hook, too, has a lighter side that loves soft music and flowers and other such things (representative of the good things about being an adult--falling in love, pursuing one's passions in a professional sense, having children of one's own). Disney, of course, doesn't quite do this to the same extent as Barrie since we're given a skewed view of the characters, but it DOES still make a few points which, when stripped of the "child-lens" effect, gives off a similar impression. Peter, for instance, brags to the mermaids at one point about cutting off Hook's hand and feeding it to the crocodile. Though we never get to hear him finish the tale, it is rather unsettling to think that Disney's Pan is capable of such horror. (Personally, no matter WHAT the circumstances of the situation were, I think any real-life child who took such great pleasure in slicing off a body part of another person and then having the presence of mind to feed said body part to a dangerous wild animal would probably be considered a psychopath in need of some SERIOUS counseling.) Disney, of course, glosses over this little inconvenience by having Hook show up before he can really get any further into the story. Again, the child-lens is going up; Wendy doesn't want to see this side of Peter, and neither does the child-based audience, so they choose to look away. However, we see a brief glimpse of this side of Pan again at Skull Rock. First, we see it resurface when he hands Smee a gun and then flies up directly in front of Hook--knowing that he can move out of the way in time. Again, through the child-lens of the audience, it seems funny to watch Smee doing his best (and failing terribly) to aim at Pan...but when you think about it from an adult's perspective, it's actually pretty disturbing. Peter legitimately wants Hook dead and doesn't care if it happens to be at the hand of one of his own crewmen (and arguably, in the Disney universe, Hook's only real friend). When Hook "dies," Peter simply takes the hat and says nonchalantly, "What a pity, Mr. Smee. I'm afraid we've lost the dear captain." It doesn't even phase him that a man might have just died and poor Smee is probably feeling absolutely HORRIBLE because it was (sort of) his fault. Even Wendy's child-lens falters a little here... While Peter is celebrating Hook's death, she at least, has enough of an adult's heart to have compassion on their fallen enemy and turn her face away with an, "Oh, how dreadful!" It happens again a few moments later when Peter is getting ready to kick Hook's hook off the ledge so that he falls into the waiting jaws of the crocodile. (The captain, at this point, is of course, squirming like--to use Peter's phrasing--"a codfish on a hook.") Again, Pan has no sympathy, but Wendy, who is starting to gradually open up her eyes to the truth that maybe staying a child forever isn't all it's cracked up to be and maybe adulthood isn't entirely bad, is losing her "child-lens." Not entirely. Not to the point where she doesn't continue to view Hook as comical to keep from being afraid. But enough to know that what Peter is about to do is wrong. She expresses this verbally when she shouts, "Oh, Peter, NO!"

It is at this point, shortly after the crocodile chase, that we start to see Hook become more of a legitimate threat (and a legitimately sympathetic character) again. Why? Because Wendy, as the protagonist and the one whose eyes we are looking through even more so than Pan, is starting to grow up and face reality for what it is--scary or not. As she sings "Your Mother and Mine" and tells her brothers that they NEED a mother--that Neverland has been fun but they NEED to go home--Hook is throwing Tinkerbelle in a lantern and planning to kidnap the kids and blow Pan to smithereens. And then we get the "slit his throat" reminder (mentioned above)... Also, as a side note, when Hook is ill after the crocodile chase, we hear him lamenting how Pan has made him look like a fool yet again. This is also something that I think we can appreciate more as adults. All Hook's crew wants is to go back to haunting the Spanish Main, but Hook refuses to leave Neverland because he feels that he has to remain there until he can regain his pride...which in and of itself is admirable, since many people who have been played the fool simply hang their head and walk away in shame. Here's this guy who has been bested by a child no more than twelve or thirteen--and possibly much younger... How must that feel? I have been in an emotionally abusive relationship where I was constantly reminded how I couldn’t do anything right, and it felt SO degrading. I literally just wanted to go hide away in my room and cry because I felt so incompetent and useless and just plain stupid. So how does Hook feel? Probably the same way. But he doesn't give up. If there's one thing we can say for sure about Disney Hook, he's a fighter. So, I guess you could say that, in part, one reason I find Disney Hook so sympathetic and tragic is because I can identify with him in his crippling reaction to fear and admire him for his bold attempts to reclaim his pride.

Anyway, getting back on track with the storyline... As we near the end of the film, Hook once again appears to lose face at the final showdown. At first, this doesn't seem to make sense if Wendy is, in fact, beginning to lose the child-lens. However, although Hook is defeated, we are never actually shown that he dies (and obviously, from the second film, in the Disney universe, he doesn't). I remember reading somewhere that when they were originally working on Peter Pan, Walt Disney chose to keep Hook alive and just have him "going like hell" rather than actually dying because, "the audience will get to liking Hook." And by this point, we have...those of us still looking through the child-lens love to hate him as a character we can laugh at, and those of us who are more grown-up love him for being just like us--an adult who is STILL growing up, in some ways, who is STILL afraid of certain things and hasn't always learned his lessons and isn't perfect but also isn't willing to give up even when everything is against him and everyone is laughing at him and nothing seems to go right.

Now, I said that at first, it doesn't seem to make sense for us to view Hook in a comical light in this scene if we are viewing the movie primarily through the eyes of the Darling children--particularly Wendy, who is starting to grow up and realize that adults are supposed to feel things like compassion for one's enemies. However, Wendy is still a child. She IS still afraid of growing up. In fact, she's terrified. And that comes out when the kids are all mocking Hook. He's still frightening to them. They still need the security blanket of pretend sometimes, of focusing on his more comical, vulnerable side...but they don't defeat Hook by killing him in this version, and I think that's significant. As representative primarily of the "scary" parts of growing up, Hook is temporarily cast aside and shoved to the back of their minds, but he IS NOT DEAD. The kids (and even Pan) know he may come back. They know he isn't gone for good. One day, they will have to face adulthood. One day, Hook--in the guise of mortgages and taxes and wars and sickly older parents--will return. But for now, they have defeated him...not just by pretending but by choosing to accept the responsibility of growing up eventually, in their own good time. Even Peter starts to reflect this theme by beating Hook, "man to man" without the use of flight. Wendy, who wants to be the good grown-up but who isn't quite ready to let go of childhood, warns Peter against it, thinking that it may be a trap. She even goes so far as to shout at him to fly when he has the chance even though he has promised not to. But Disney Pan is a bit more mature than some (maybe Wendy's better judgment is wearing off on him), and he keeps his word. He beats Hook "like a man" NOT like a boy. Pan's victory here symbolically reflects the Darling children's decision to face adulthood by going back to London. Thus, Hook is defeated because adulthood is no longer an obstacle which causes a fear is so crippling that the kids can't face it. When Wendy returns home, we get one last glimpse of this truth in Mr. Darling--the real-world representative of all things frightening and frustrating about growing up and, as I'm sure you know, also (significantly) voiced by Conried--who has done some "growing up" himself. Mr. Darling, it seems, is willing to allow Wendy a bit more time to enjoy life as a child, remembering his own childhood fondly, even as Wendy has chosen to accept the responsibility of growing up. Mr. Darling, who much like Hook, was viewed previously by the kids (and by extension, the audience) as a bit of a bully and an object of ridicule, is now the object of Wendy's affection as a mutual understanding is reached. Adulthood is frightening in many ways, but Wendy has also come to realize that it is necessary to take responsibility for one's actions and feel compassion for others just as Mr. Darling has realized that sometimes, it's okay for kids to be kids and enjoy the moment. Essentially, what I'm saying is--borrowing the idea that Hook and Mr. Darling are two sides of the same coin--Hook in Neverland, chased away by the crocodile, appears as comical in the last scene only because he effectively gets one last serious scene through his London counterpart, staring wistfully out the window with a loving wife and child by his side. Wendy isn't quite yet grown up, so she still sees through the child-lens on occasion, but she is learning, gradually, to embrace that which she once feared. She no longer needs Hook, an imaginary figure, to personify that fear. She now has her father back, and though she now RESPECTS what he stands for, she is no longer so terrified of growing up that she can't appreciate the GOOD side of the future (such as having a husband and a family of her own someday) and look forward to it.

#peter pan disney #disney peter pan #captain hook disney #disney captain hook #disney #disney villains #captain hook #james hook #captain james hook

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timebird84 · 3 years

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🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @from-aldebaran

Snow Angel

As grey dawn broke over the streets of Paris, the Opera Ghost stood high atop the roof of the Palais Garnier, surveying the thick snowfall that had settled over the city in the night, snow still falling, perfect flakes settling on his cloak, their crystalline shapes unmarred, becoming bright additions to the subtle jet beadwork adorning his collar and shoulders.

Erik had suspected this change in the weather when he had completed his rounds last evening with a final stop on the roof. The air had smelled of impending snow, reminding him of days long ago on the road in Russia, where learning the signs and portents of the weather’s whims had been a matter of life or death.

The light-bejeweled city had been beautiful from the heights last night and was even more so now, all ugliness revealed by the daylight hidden beneath smooth snowy white curves, like the mask which shielded the malformed side of his face from the horrified gaze of the world. And this was not winter in Russia. His life no longer danced upon a knife’s edge from day to day. He stood here, atop his Opera House, warmth and beauty and home within, snow kept safely without, waiting for the dancers and musicians and singers to come fill his halls with bright life and music, which he shaped as always subtly from the shadows.

Well, and there was no more time to stand here gawking while snow collected at an impressive rate on the brim of his hat. There was much to be done this day, before the Palais emptied for the Christmas holiday, with a concert by the Opéra Populaire scheduled after, for the holiday season, and a new production starting in the coming year. The day would hold Christine’s early morning vocal lesson, a full concert ensemble rehearsal on stage at noon, with breakout practices and recitals in the afternoon.

The Opera House always bustled with life during the day, but never more so than at the holiday times. The artists, young and old, were caught up in what Erik understood to be the spirit of fellowship of the season, exchanging gifts, holding impromptu gatherings, filled with Christmas cheer, and above all, anxiously awaiting the time away from their work that the Christmas break provided. The days leading up to Christmas were filled with a palpable energy, waiting to be released as the company headed out on holiday.

Then, ah, for him a few days of what had used to be blessed solitude, when he could roam the halls at will, mindful only of the few beleaguered guards tasked to work the holidays. Never very happy about it, they typically stayed close to the main guard station, leaving the gilded halls free for him to enjoy in peace, to marvel at the beauty contained within the Palais and of course to attend to more practical matters, ensuring seldom used secret access points remained in working order. Yes, the holidays were a perfect time for a survey of his Opera House, top to bottom, drifting purposefully alone through the long winter nights.

But this year was somehow different. Sweet solitude held less allure. He had grown accustomed to the new lessons with Christine, their daily interactions. Seeing her progress, shaping her voice into a beautiful reliable instrument to serve her all her days. Speaking with her on matters musical and personal. Using his guise as an angel to gain perspective on facets of human behavior that he had either been unaware of or which had somehow eluded him completely. Not that he truly cared, mind, nor would he have much occasion to put this newfound knowledge into practice, being the solitary creature he was.

Still, she fascinated him…that is, what she had to say fascinated him.

It was a good thing, then, that the work to be done in the Opera House, still and empty and quiet for the next few days, would occupy his time so completely.

Erik turned to go, his footprints from his earlier traverse already erased by the snow, leaving no doubt his new footprints would be obscured as well. He swept his hat off, releasing a sudden tiny blizzard into the wind. He felt the unexpected kiss of snowflakes on his cheek, and a warm flurry of sensation in his chest which he recognized with surprise as anticipation, anticipation of a pleasant day indeed, with all proceeding according to plan.

*****

Christine was late. Very late. Christine had never been so much as a minute late before, not for their morning lessons.

Erik fretted behind the mirror until the moment when the door to the dressing room flew open and Christine burst in, her arms full of bags and parcels, her blue cloak damp about her, her usual outside-of-the-opera upswept coiffure fallen, sending her auburn curls cascading about her shoulders, sparkling with snow. The vacant tableau of her dressing room came to vibrant life with her entrance, her cheeks and lips rosy with color as she spun to close the door behind her, calling for him immediately.

“Angel, oh Angel, I am so sorry! Are you here, did you stay?”

He had not the heart to make her wait a moment for his answer, though her calls for him were their own sweet music.

“My child, I am here. What befell you? And what is it that you carry there?”

“Oh, Angel,” Christine began, as she set her various burdens down on the vanity, easing woolen mittens from her hands, unfastening her cloak and tossing it over the dressing screen to dry. She perched her mittens precariously atop the screen as well. “It has snowed, have you seen, a very great snow, the most here in Paris in years and years!” She pulled a small pair of hair combs from the pockets of her dress, trying in vain to roll the snow-dampened curls of her hair and secure them away from her face.

“I did see, and this delayed you somehow?” He felt like a fool. He seldom had to go abroad from the Opera House in inclement weather, unless he wished to, and he had not even considered the snow as a reason for the lateness of her arrival.

“Well, yes, it is not only snow, but ice beneath and walking is treacherous, especially for those not accustomed to snow! I daresay I spent more time helping people up this morning than I did on my own journey here.” Christine laughed, adding with sudden astuteness, in apparent consideration of his angelic nature and his potential ignorance about the meaning of her northern origins— “I am Swedish, you see, and used to the snow!”

She busied herself sorting various packages that she fished from the bags she had carried, explaining as she worked. “We exchange gifts with each other for Christmas, the ballet girls do, and these are the presents I have brought with me to give.”

Of course. Gifts were customary at this season, he thought, as his chest inexplicably tightened.

Her hair came loose from the combs again and she pulled them free, rummaging in her vanity. “These are entirely too small, they always have been. I simply need to get larger ones, and give these away.”

She pulled a larger pair of combs from the drawer, evidently much used by the battered look of them and was finally able to set her hair away from her face to her satisfaction, though the rest of the snow-swept curls she left free, here in the confines of the Opera House, where the rules governing a young lady’s expected hair arrangement were a moot point at best among the bohemian members of the Opéra Populaire.

His eyes caught on her face as she peered into her vanity mirror, and he was struck suddenly that beneath the rosy glow imparted by the winter weather, she was pale, and somehow drawn, with faint lilac shadows beneath her eyes.

It was not like her to complain about anything, especially something so inconsequential as a set of hair combs. Perhaps…

“Are you well? Are you agreeable to our lesson today?” he enquired.

He drove her very hard, came the abrupt thought, as his gaze traced the stark line of her cheek, with these lessons in addition to the not insignificant demands of her duties in the company, singing in the chorus and dancing as well, under the also quite strict supervision of Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry respectively.

For all that she held these responsibilities, and for all that she had been through these past years—things she had shared with him during the time of their lessons and on other occasions when she called to him and he was able to answer—she was, he suddenly realized, still quite young.

Young in a way he had never been allowed to be, and with a sudden hollowness expanding in his chest, he wondered if he was complicit in rushing her into adulthood with his stern expectations.

“Oh, yes,” Christine said, shaking her hair back one last time and coming to stand in the center of the room, poising herself for her warmups. “Some of us had hoped…well, had thought, that the day’s rehearsals might be cancelled due to the weather, but—” a look approaching worry crossed her face—“but I would never miss a lesson with you, Angel. And as it turns out, the day’s full schedule remains firmly in place.” Here her lip quivered, just slightly, and she cast her gaze down in what looked very like disappointment.

Oh dear. Abruptly, he was at a loss. He cast about for what to do and decided he needed more information.

“My child,” he said, “you know we have discussed before how I am ignorant of many things in this mortal world, and that I rely on you to be my guide in such matters.”

Christine lifted her head, nodding to the corner of the room where he had sent his voice to speak from.

“You must tell me truthfully, Christine. What had you and your companions hoped for this day? And please, dear one, sit down. Warm yourself before you even think of warming your voice.”

Christine crossed to the vanity and settled upon the little chair there, chafing her hands together and tucking them in the folds of her skirt. “Well, it seems so silly to say aloud, especially to you, Angel. Such trivial matters to concern you with, and really of no importance.”

“We have had this discussion before as well. There is nothing you cannot lay before me. Music is not made just with the voice, you will recall, but with the spirit. If the spirit is troubled or,” and here he paused, to rid his voice of any emotion save comfort, “or the body is tired, you must tell me, Christine. I am not always able to discern these things without your help.”

She shifted on the little chair, and then spoke. “Well, it is just, yes, we are tired, all of us, and we had hoped to be able to go out…and play.” She flushed, her pale features pinking in the soft light of the dressing room to match the high color of her cheeks and lips.

Play. In the snow?

Erik considered her in silence, information and observations assuming new configurations in his mind, Christine again leading him to a new perspective. He had anticipated a high level of energy from the company today, this he had observed before during previous holiday seasons. People with their minds on future plans, on gatherings with loved ones, eager to be done with their work.

But this morning, the Opera House fairly vibrated with the company’s restrained energy, and at last he understood—it was due to the snow!

And Christine—not just his promising student, but a member of that company, a member of humanity in a way that he was far removed from, in a way that he had utterly failed to take into account.

Erik pulled in a deep breath in his place behind the mirror, letting it out slowly and quietly as he gripped his hands tightly together. She would work herself to exhaustion, catch her death of cold, to not miss a lesson from him. Her health could take a turn, due to illness or overwork, two things he himself was never troubled by—and he would be responsible.

He could not and should not hold her to his impossibly warped standards.

And he—he had had no consideration for her at all, none, not even arranging for something as simple as a holiday gift…

It simply would not do.

Perhaps there was something that could be done, to make amends. He addressed her, sending his voice again from the corner of the room.

“Play?” He hoped he did not sound nearly as confused as he felt.

“In the snow, you know. It happens so rarely here!”

“Ah,” he said wisely, feeling thoroughly unenlightened. “And how, exactly, does one play in the snow?”

“Oh!” She leaned forward, clasping her hands, her voice animated and eyes bright. “There’s sledding of course, and snow forts, and snowmen, and snowballs…oh, and snow angels!” Here she laughed again.

“I see,” he said, though he saw nothing of the sort. He remembered looking out of his shuttered window as a child, at a group of children throwing balls of snow at one another in the street, and from his Russian travels he knew what sleds were, but all else was mystery. His tone must have conveyed more than his words, because Christine continued, explaining.

“Well, sledding is riding something smooth down a hillside covered in snow. Snowmen are figures made out of large balls of snow, stacked with a bottom and middle and a top for a head. You can add branches for arms, buttons or coal for eyes, and a carrot for a nose. And then things like scarves and hats if you like. Oh, and snow forts are like walls made of snow, or sometimes square or domed houses. To play in, you see, or hide behind, especially in a snowball fight.”

Christine tipped her chin down, shaking her head slightly, yet still smiling. “Snowball fights sound very mean when explaining them to an angel, but I promise you they are very fun! You make fist sized balls out of snow and throw them at one another. If you are feeling very wicked, you can pack them tightly, so they sting your target a bit.”

She raised her eyes, skin coloring once more, and brought the subject back round to virtue. “Snow angels are when you flop down in a field of soft snow, flat on your back, and then you move your arms and legs to make shapes. The legs, see, make a robe and your arms make the wings. At least—” and she glanced again at the corner his voice issued from “—that is what we think angels look like, though we have no way to be sure they look anything at all like what we have imagined.”

Well, and time to change that topic. It all seemed very silly…but perhaps that was what was needed here. Some time not to be serious. Some time to simply…play. At the very least, he would cut this lesson short and give the girl a break this morning. She had dance practice very soon and then the full run through of the holiday concert with the whole company, dancers, chorus, and orchestra assembled on the stage.

Today was the last day before the brief holiday break, and the show to commence very soon after everyone returned. They were already well practiced though, he had seen it for himself. The management could have made a different decision and called today’s rehearsals off altogether with no harm done. They were clearly as foolish as he himself had been.

It was time for that to change. And, he thought, his mind a whirl of ideas, time to share the lesson he had just learned.

“Christine, a few scales please and that will suffice for today. Warm up properly prior to your rehearsal later this morning. You will want to be well prepared for anything.”

She rose from her seat to move to the center of the room again. “Oh, Angel, are you certain? I can do anything that you ask.”

“I am very certain, dear one. Sing today, then go from here and rest your voice, body and spirit until you return again next week. You have given me the lesson today, Christine, one this angel had not considered, that people need time to rest and play, to stay well for their work. I shall not forget it.”

*****

Erik lounged in casual repose in the flies high above the stage, which hummed with activity dozens of feet below. The flies were empty save for himself; there was only one backdrop needed for the post- Christmas concert the Opéra Populaire was preparing to rehearse, and that already in place, leaving the stagehands to concentrate on ground level tasks. Joseph Buquet’s many little nests of old drop cloths, where he napped away the hours hidden safely from view above the stage, were empty, Buquet himself busy sharing a flask of holiday cheer with the dayshift guards at their station. This set of circumstances had saved Erik quite a bit of time in dealing with unwanted attention, and ensured he had no audience for the completion of the project that had consumed his morning hours, and gave him also an excellent vantage from which to observe today’s proceedings.

He had been right about the effect of the holidays, and Christine’s observations about the snowfall enabled him to see even more clearly…no one wanted to be here today. They wished to be out, in the snow, left to their own devices

Idly, Erik observed the rehearsal layout. The orchestra was ensconced in the pit, doing their warm-ups as the conductor, Monsieur Desplat, presided in dreamy, absent-minded glory, bent over his sheet music, his hair a cottony white nimbus about his head. Desplat lived fully in the world of music, which condition Erik could understand, but alas, the music in Monsieur Desplat’s head often drowned out the real world shortcomings of several members of his orchestra.

As if on cue, the Third Trombone hit a particularly sour note, causing Erik’s fingers to clench. And of course, the Second Trombone’s chair was empty, the man over in the string section, pressing his dubious attention upon one of the violinists—it scarcely mattered to Erik which one, nor, he suspected, did it matter much to the Second Trombone, whose criteria in choice of partners boiled down to alive and available.

Stage left stood the twittering semicircle of the chorus, no uniformity to their dress as they were not yet outfitted in full Christmas costume. Monsieur Reyer as usual strutted before them like a bantam cock, all nervous energy and sharp movement, his incessant frustration confined only by his perpetually too-tight jacket and too-small hat. Erik had to admit that the man knew his business, else Erik would have made it his business to have the répétiteur replaced years ago. No, Reyer was quite competent, and then some, despite a distressing tendency towards favoritism and inclination to fawn over said favorites, resulting in a failure to correct their slide into bad form.

And there stood the favorites themselves, La Carlotta and her partner Signor Piangi, at the downstage end of the chorus’s semicircle. La Carlotta, true to her character, alternated between looking bored and disdainful, while Piangi’s good nature asserted itself as he chatted with chorus members, yet, with the ease of long practice, and perhaps a well-developed sense of self-preservation, he remained constantly aware of and attentive to the ever-changing moods of his lady diva. As usual, Piangi had done a thorough warm-up, his pleasant tenor an accompaniment to Erik’s morning efforts in the flies, and also as usual, La Carlotta found warm-ups beneath her, which contributed to the daily erosion of her once supreme talent.

Stage right, a drift of tulle and satin, the ballet dancers fully costumed in their holiday concert regalia, complete with tall tiaras each adorned at the highest point with a glittering golden star, in sharp contrast to the stern black-clad presence of Madame Giry, staff at the ready. And there, speaking animatedly with Madame Giry’s blonde-haired daughter Meg, was Christine. Erik narrowed his eyes—he had heard Christine warming up as he worked and knew she had no dance role in this concert. If she were not careful, she would risk—

“Daaé!”

And there it was, Monsieur Reyer’s nasal voice rising above the sounds of the orchestra and sending Christine rushing across the stage to her place in the chorus. One would think, Erik mused, that a vocal coach of some renown would have made some effort towards making his own speaking voice less of an assault on the ear, but sadly, this was not the case. One of the ballerinas, a particularly unpleasant girl with dark eyes and scornful brows, far too aware of her own beauty, laughed and muttered something to her compatriots, while Meg frowned fiercely at her. Erik cocked his head, and made a mental note of the scoffer’s position.

All in good time.

He settled back to wait for the rehearsal to begin.

*****

The company was restive, there was no doubt of it. Errors in previously solid performances abounded. The ballet girls had missed their cue again and stood sullenly until a broad overblown note from the First Bassoon, a young man relatively new to the orchestra, sent them into a fit of giggles which seemed to set them more at ease. A deliberately overblown note, thought Erik, knowing a player of that caliber and on that fine of an instrument would have to work at producing such a sound.

Yes, and that reminded him, strings and woodwinds. Special consideration would have to be taken for strings and woodwinds...

The chorus was also off, and Monsieur Reyer was growing more and more heated, stopping the songs, launching into his familiar tirade of “No, no, no! Nearly, but no!” repeatedly, which was ostensibly supposed to be both helpful and comforting and which in reality was neither.

Erik caught sight of Christine’s pale, strained face amongst the chorus as the rehearsal moved forward into the third selection. Three selections out of twenty, and at this rate hours upon hours of work for the beleaguered members of the company, and every bit of this realization showing in her expression.

It was time for the lesson to begin. As taught by Christine to her Angel, thence from Angel to Opera Ghost, and now, with very great pleasure, from Opera Ghost to the whole of the Opéra Populaire…

The ensemble was several bars in, orchestra, chorus, and dancers striving for synchronicity, when Monsieur Desplat was roused from his world of music by the sight and sound of his woodwind section and his string section ceasing their play, and standing to put away their instruments with some haste.

“Here, now,” he sputtered, as the brass played gamely on, the singers and dancers onstage continuing, determined, it seemed, to make it through this song come what may. “What are you doing?”

The First Violin spoke up. “Why sir, only what you told us! You said rehearsal’s off, to pack our things and go!”

“I said no such thing!” Desplat declaimed, as the strings and woodwinds persisted, that no, they had all heard it, plain as day, as though he had spoken right in their very ears…

On stage, the chorus gamely continued, but the lack of complete accompaniment and the distraction of the many standing figures in the pit finally threw them off, and Reyer brought them to an uneven halt as per usual.

“No, no, no! Nearly, but—”

SPLAT!

Seemingly out of nowhere, Reyer was hit in the back of the head by a wickedly accurate snowball, which knocked his hat off amid a spectacular spray of glittering snow.

A second whizzing sphere smacked the headdress off of a particular ballerina, icy cold snow wiping the ever-present smug expression off of her face.

In the stunned silence which followed, an odd sound was heard, dozens of ropes passing through dozens of pulleys, as an equal number of buckets descended rapidly to every far flung area of the stage, coming quietly to rest amidst the company.

Each bucket was heaped to overflowing with snowballs.

And it was on.

High above the fray, Erik rocked with silent laughter as the stage devolved into a battlefield.

The orchestra wasted no time in storming the stage and commandeering ammunition, the strings and woodwinds with their instruments safely stowed (thanks to the early warning they had received) versus the later arriving brass section, all of them at one point joining forces to pelt Monsieur Desplat rather mercilessly until he seized a music stand as a shield and made his way out of the orchestra pit to the safety of the far reaches of the auditorium.

Madame Giry made a small attempt to control the corps de ballet and might have done so, had not her canny instincts led her to glance upward at the flies, where Erik allowed her to see him. He waggled a snowball at her from his own private stash, and she sighed, stepping back and releasing the ballet dancers to do their worst.

The chorus, who rather sportingly had not attacked the still recovering Monsieur Reyer, and who had instead turned gleefully on each other, solidified into a unit when faced with the raging attack of the ballerinas. Reyer’s immunity was short lived as he was caught in a blistering crossfire, not at all by accident, as Erik was able to discern from his superior vantage point. He noted with both surprise and delight that Christine got in a few hits on him herself.

In fact, Erik’s one concern, for Christine’s safety, had dissolved immediately as he saw her good Swedish instincts and good Swedish arm turn her into a smiling yet fierce combatant. She was well-liked by the company and not the malicious target of anyone that Erik could tell, save the scornful ballerina who, while she was a talented dancer, had no arm at all. Her mistaken attack on Christine was decisively countered and Erik added a hard packed ice ball to the middle of her back for good measure as she attempted to flee the stage.

Piangi, an enormous but well-liked target, was spared and used his seeming immunity to shield Carlotta, who huffed in red-faced outrage as he attempted to maneuver her off the stage before the worst happened.

And he would have made it, too, thought Erik, as he considered trajectories for a hit on Carlotta which proved impossible due to Piangi’s intercession—until the stagehands arrived. Arming themselves from a row of untouched buckets at the back of the stage, they fired at will, and with enviable accuracy, at La Carlotta, their bane and tormentor for many long seasons, reducing her despite Piangi’s shielding presence to a sodden bedraggled state in a matter of mere seconds.

Erik sought out a few especially irritating company members for his own strikes from above, and had then turned to amusing himself by lobbing high arcing shots into the orchestra pit, sending snowball after snowball into the bell of the abandoned tuba, when he caught sight of a particular nemesis, the Second Trombone, heading away from the fray towards the far backstage.

The man was a menace, his insatiable nature and never ending supply of willing partners resulting in innumerable trysts, and Erik had grown tired of stumbling across him all throughout the Opera House in the most unexpected places…and positions.

Sure enough, the Second Trombone had again seized the day with one of the violinists, and as the couple prepared to conduct a private symphony of their own backstage, Erik took great delight in dumping a full bucket of icy snowball melt upon them from the great height of the flies, bringing their performance to a chilling conclusion.

Satisfied, Erik returned to his perch above the stage. The battle still raged. Christine had switched allegiances back to the corps de ballet, and stood now shoulder to shoulder with Meg. They dodged and weaved incoming missiles with dancer’s grace, laughing all the while.

Never had he seen Christine so animated, so vibrant. So simply happy. His fingers, icy cold from snow, warmed as he pressed his hands to his chest, feeling his heart alive beneath his palms.

His attention was drawn away to Monsieur Lefèvre arriving stage left. Erik watched in astonished bemusement as Madame Giry made her way serenely from stage right, through the pitched battle, not one single member of the Opéra Populaire so much as daring to dream of throwing a snowball anywhere near her, to confer briefly with him. The two concluded their conference, Lefèvre threw his hands up and stalked away, and Madame Giry turned, striking her staff sharply upon the stage twice, bringing an immediate cessation of hostilities.

“Rehearsals for the day are concluded,” she announced. “We will reconvene next week, after the break.”

She silently surveyed the wet and disheveled assemblage of supposed professionals before her.

“Merry Christmas,” she intoned, and she sighed.

*****

Erik returned to the roof in time to see the liberated company, now hastily clad in their winter gear, spill out onto the front plaza of the Opera House. The snowball fight was quickly rejoined and spread out along the sidewalks and across the streets, and grew in intensity with the addition of staid bankers and stolid businessmen to the combat, grinning madly beneath their top hats and homburgs. Mesdames and mademoiselles joined in as well, in plain spun aprons or hats the height of fashion. Snowballs made equals of them all.

But there—there she was, Christine, with Meg, joining in the snowball fight.

Even at this distance he could see the silver and blue glint in her hair that meant she had found his gift when she returned to the dressing room for her cloak and mittens.

Hair combs, a pair, a design of intricately carved silver set with sapphires that matched her cloak and her eyes.

Erik cast his mind back to the warm Persian night, as far from the crisp air and glittering snow-covered streets of Paris as could be conceived, when he had been gifted the combs. There had been a boy, missing a leg above the knee, and Erik had had a thought of something that could be constructed, jointed at knee and foot, to allow the boy to walk. So simple really, it had taken him mere days to construct. His parents had been overjoyed, and the mother had offered the combs in gratitude. Erik had made to protest but ultimately had been unable to refuse and really, despite their uselessness to him, the combs were so beautiful they were hard to resist.

The combs had made their way back here with him, surviving the travels and adventures he had had since leaving Persia long ago. It had been a simple matter, among his tasks this morning, to return to his home beneath the Opera House and fetch some things away, the combs, a bit of pretty paper to wrap them in and a few other oddments that were here with him now in a cloth bag tucked by his feet.

Writing a note to accompany the gift had been quite a bit harder. He had decided against lengthy explanations of how an Angel could possibly gift a material object…if the subject were broached later, he would come up with something. Disguising his handwriting was old hat—his own handwriting was often rushed and scrawled as it attempted to keep up with the flow of his mind’s ideas. The Opera Ghost had very different penmanship indeed than his own. And so must the Angel, in a hand differing from both.

It was the sentiment that eluded him. He settled upon writing that he would see her upon her return after the Christmas break, to remind again she needn’t show up for their lessons for those few days. And then he thought to finish with “Merry Christmas” and realized he had never written, or spoken those words for that matter, in all the many and varied years of his life…

A sharp gust of wind that threatened to snap the edges of his cloak from his grasp brought him back to the rooftop. Clearly the gift and note had been found and must have been passable, for Christine had already set the combs in her lush curls. She was closer now, on the crowded sidewalk below, snowballs flying as a lone bicyclist, head down, rode close enough to become an instantly popular target, pelted with a will by all parties, save Christine. The cyclist fell, knocking his cap loose, as his bicycle slid beneath him on the icy street.

The bombardment was merciless as he attempted to retrieve his bicycle from where it had fallen…until Christine, arms raised, stepped next to him. The assailants, seemingly chagrined, turned their attentions back to each other as Christine brushed the bicyclist off, retrieved his cap for him and sent him peaceably on his way.

Erik shook his head, his hands unaccountably warming again. He would know her anywhere, he thought, simply by her actions. A merciful, caring young woman, who would forgive her poor Angel for not understanding that people needed to play and rest.

The combs, silver and sapphire, sparkled in her hair.

He was glad to have been able to gift her some laughter today as well.

She and Meg made their way to the front plaza to join a group constructing figures out of snow. Ah, these must be snowmen, and snow ladies as well, for the figures were those of the principals of the Opéra Populaire. Simple shapes, made of three large snowballs stacked atop one another; nevertheless, due to the accompanying accessories it was easy to tell who was supposed to be who. Christine and Meg helped with a figure of Piangi, a very large snowman indeed.

After a time, the girls left the group, and started, he knew, on their way to their homes. Madame Giry drifted gracefully out to join them, and they began their walk. Meg suddenly stopped, pulling her mother’s hands to stop her too, and she and Christine made their way over to an untroubled patch of snow. Laughing, they flung themselves backward, arms sweeping vigorously from their sides to above their heads and the position of their feet indicating that their legs described arcs worthy of da Vinci as well. Carefully rising so as not to disturb the patterns they had made, they hopped back to the sidewalk to admire their handiwork. There, in the snowfield, two angels now appeared. Christine patted at her hair, checking for her new combs, he fancied, and the trio, after some dusting off, continued on their way, to their waiting homes.

Erik watched until she was out of sight, watching longer still as the day began to fade toward evening. The snowfall, which had continued on and off throughout the day, was on again, lazy flakes riding the wind and spiraling down like falling stars.

And now, he supposed, it was time for his own lesson.

For Erik and the boy he had never had a chance to be.

He looked around the snowy expanse of the rooftop, and thought of Christine’s list. The snowball fight had been accomplished. Sledding…was not an option. Oh, it would be quite possible on the higher, steeper pitched portions of the roof of the Palais Garnier, but the inevitable conclusion must give one pause.

Snow forts….again he considered the snow-covered Opera House. Well, and he already had the grandest snow fort anyone could imagine.

That left only two items on the list, and he set to the snowmen with a will that surprised him.

In short order, he had two figures, one tall, one smaller. He eyed the bag he had brought with him. It contained buttons for eyes, blue for Christine, brown and blue for himself. For his own figure, he had brought a hat, unused since a midnight sortie some months back had gone rather awry and he and the hat had had to make a quick detour into the Seine. And for Christine’s, well, he had brought away the small unwanted hair combs when he had delivered his gift to her dressing room. They would be returned of course, as the snow melted.

But…even with these accoutrements accounted for in the final design, the figures struck him as clumsy and unrefined.

If he was meant to be having fun, damn it, it should be fun for him, not an assault on his artistic sensibilities.

He set to the figures again, shaping, sculpting, a dress here, a cloak there, adding snow as needed until the figures took on a fuller semblance of life.

He finished Christine first, her face taking shape beneath his hands, her hair now tumbling about her shoulders, a cascade of sparkling snow. He stepped back, to consider. Yes, this was recognizable as Christine to anyone who had even a passing acquaintance with her. Soft yet strong. Demure yet commanding attention. Graceful even at rest.

The buttons for eyes did not suit this sculpt, but the combs... Carefully, he set them amid the snowy waves of her hair, and was pleased with the result.

His own form took shape even more quickly, lean straight lines, the billows of his cloak, long hands with icy frozen fingers of snow, shining slicked back hair.

The face… He sculpted the left side first, smooth unmarred features, half of a firm-lipped mouth, the long straight line of one side of his nose, jaw and cheekbone and brow sharp and defined.

And then he stopped, eyes closed, brow furrowed and surely it was only melting snow he felt upon his cheeks...

The decision reached, he faced himself again and with trembling hands worked on the right side of his face, sculpting not a mask, but a semblance which matched the left, his face as it should have been, in some world out of time where he had been born a boy who could go outdoors, who had learned how to play, who had known the joys of family and home and love.

Stepping back, he saw a man he did not know, but somehow wished to. And next to the man, the girl who was fast becoming his teacher, perhaps leading him to come to know this strange version of himself at her side.

Shaking his head at his odd evening fancies, Erik delved into the bag, finding the hat, well suited to the figure before him, the hat having seen and been through much and lived to tell the tale. Settling it on the figure’s head, he tipped it low on the right side, as he wore his own, and acting on some instinctual impulse, with his finger he drew a line on the snowy visage, slanting from the left forehead to the right corner of the mouth, which he found comforting in some unknowable way.

Well. That left only one item on the list.

Removing his cloak and hat, he sat in the snow some small distance from the snow people, and laying back, moved his arms and legs in great sweeping, freeing arcs, his length of limb creating a startling large angel when he stood and inspected it.

An Angel of Music.

Something he and Christine genuinely had in common. Long before he came into her sphere, she had been visited by the Angel of Music; it was evident in her talent and passion and power.

And despite the vagaries of his life and birth, one thing he was truly grateful for, one thing that had saved him time and again, one thing that he believed in above all else, was his own visit from the very same angel.

It seemed fitting that these snow versions of himself and Christine had their own angel, as well.

He drew a staff in the snow between angel and student and teacher and with careful touches from the toes of his shoes, wrote a song in the snow for them to share. Although at this point, on this day, on this night, it was really rather moot now as to who was the student and who the teacher.

Erik dusted himself off, donning cloak and hat again, rolling the bag of buttons small enough to tuck into his pocket, and strode to the edge of the roof to look out over the city.

Paris lay covered in an absolution of pure white snow, a forgiveness of drifts that gleamed and glittered in the city lights below.

Snow swirled in the wind, and he knew by morning, his and Christine’s snow features would be blurred into generality, the angel windswept to a soft impression of the powerful muse he knew, the snow song unreadable and unknown except to those who had been there when it was written.

All fading into the past, leaving only tomorrow in view.

He felt again a tingle that he recognized as anticipation. The break would not be too long. Christine would return. Their mutual lessons would resume. Who knew what they would learn together?

Leaning out, over the roof’s edge, he spoke, and watched his words turn to mist, carried off by the ghost of an evening breeze.

“Merry Christmas, Christine…”

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

BONUS by @gracie-p8-officialblog

#PotO Advent Calendar #PotO #Phantom of the Opera #Door 23

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nobodyfamousposts · 4 years

Text

Runaway: Roommates AU

For @a-marlene-s and the contest, for the prompt: Runaway

A Harry Potter-based Miraculous Ladybug AU. With roommates.

_________________________________

Marinette was a big believer in luck. She came by it honestly, as there was something of a family belief regarding the unknown force that impacted their lives.

Her Uncle’s luck helped him work his way to becoming a world famous chef.

Her Mother’s luck led her to her husband.

Marinette’s luck gained her a strange roommate and his equally strange cat.

...If there really was a universal force directing fortune as her family believed, she had some questions for it.

It was just Marinette’s luck that the day she met Adrien, she was in the market for a new roommate. She had been sharing her flat for the last five years with her best friend, Alya, and they got along well. But Alya had a boyfriend and they had recently chosen to take the next step in their relationship and get a place together. Marinette understood, of course, but it still left her now as the sole resident of a flat that was outside of her budget and forced to choose to give it up or find some other way to make ends meet that wouldn’t involve giving up food and end up causing Alya and Tikki to stage an intervention.

The choice should be obvious, but Marinette loved her flat and was loathe to leave it. Sadly, she had only been able to afford it previously because she had shared expenses with Alya. On her own, it was more costly than she could afford and more room than she really needed.

But oh...what other place had an extended balcony that was perfect for a garden? Or such wide windows that were positioned to let in light but avoid the sun’s glare? Or had a built in desk and a space she could use as a crafting nook?

She was already having to say goodbye to Alya, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her home, too.

But it seemed that Luck pulled through for her, albeit in a rather...unusual way.

When the blond cinnamon roll appeared in her bakery, looking so lost and confused with no idea what to do or where to go, and nothing with him but a suitcase and an equally unhappy cat...she hadn’t known what to think of him.

Well, that’s not quite right. Her immediate thought had been to take the poor boy in and hug him until he stopped being sad.

Then he tried to pay for a single croissant with an overabundance of a strange type of coin. And it became clear that the man was very much not from around here. And had no idea how money worked.

Or how anything worked apparently, given his multitude of strange reactions to things.

Admittedly, she had been a bit hasty in her offer of letting him stay with her. After all, inviting a complete stranger to live with you was...generally not the brightest idea. If anything, it was usually the setup to a horror movie. But Marinette still went through with it anyway.

To this day, she still didn’t know what made her do it. Desperation, perhaps? Attributing it to her luck and not wanting to let an opportunity pass her? Or maybe it was the way something about him had drawn her in...

Regardless, he had no place to go. And she had a place he could use. It seemed like a mutually beneficial arrangement.

She just hadn’t realized just how lost Adrien was when they first met and introduced themselves to each other. Not until after he first moved in and it became abundantly clear how unfamiliar he was with...well...everything. It was no wonder he had been so overwhelmed when she first met him.

She couldn’t help but want to help him.

She just hadn’t realized what all that would entail...

____________

“Marinette! What is THAT?!”

“That’s the microwave.”

“WHY IS IT BEEPING? ARE WE GONNA DIE?”

“No, Adrien, it’s just popcorn.”

“What are these words?!”

“Do you really not have popcorn in the country?”

“Why is the bag big now? Is it magic? Are you magic? Because—”

She just shoved a couple of the popcorn pieces in his mouth at that.

_____________

"Wait, you mean you don't know how to use a washing machine?"

He shrunk in on himself. "No."

She blinked in surprise. She could have sworn…

“But...then how have you been washing your clothes?"

A long pause.

He simpered. “Can I choose not to answer that?"

She sighed.

_____________

“Marinette! Your morning wake-up box is beeping. You need to get up.”

She mumbled and turned away from Adrien and the offending noise.

He frowned. “Marinette, it won’t turn off unless you do the thing.”

She pulled a pillow over her head and continued to ignore him.

Undeterred, he approached her bed. Against better judgement, he poked at her to get her attention.

“Mari—”

A hand suddenly made contact with his face. In an all too similar manner to how she would normally try to subdue the ringing wake-up box.

It would take two days worth of apologies and make up gifts of hot chocolate and pastries for him to forgive her.

_____________

She frowned, looking at an expanse of wall and empty space on one side of the den.

“That’s weird…didn’t we have something here before?”

Adrien stilled at that.

“No.” He answered tersely.

“I could swear there was something.”

“Nope.”

She tilted her head, thinking. “I thought this flat had a fireplace? Didn’t we use it sometimes?” She could have sworn...

“You must be imagining things.” Adrien told her, taking hold of her shoulders and trying to guide her to the couch on the other side. “There hasn’t been anything there since I moved in.”

“Oh. Maybe it was a shelf or something Alya took with her.”

“That must be it.”

“Hmm…maybe we could set up a television there…”

“Yeah, sure.” He replied automatically as he drew her away from the area.

So caught up in her thoughts, she never noticed the dirty glare Adrien shot towards the now blank wall.

_____________

She had thought the introduction to television would be the biggest thing.

And she was right.

“What is THAT?” He asked in wonder, staring in shock at rectangular box with moving images inside.

“It’s a television.” She explained, gesturing to the screen as Romero confessed his love to Julia in the Spanish soap opera her cable had somehow allowed her access to.

She bit back a laugh when Adrien attempted to touch the screen. “Are they stuck in there?”

Omg, he was so adorable.

“What? No! It’s…well…it can play sounds and images from somewhere else. Things that were pre-recorded and are replayed for entertainment.”

He perked up at that. “Like a radio?”

Okay, good. So wherever he was from, he wasn’t THAT far behind on technology. Only early 1920’s instead of the nineteenth century like she’d feared.

“Yes! It’s just people pretending.”

“Oh.” He sighed, still enraptured by the TV.

“Yeah, and there are all different types of shows and movies. Different genres and different styles.”

“Styles?” He asked, finally tearing his eyes from the television to look at her.

“Sure. There’s live action, CGI, animation—”

He blinked. “Animation?”

“Yeah, like cartoons and anime.” She frowned, considering. “Actually, I think there’s…what channel was it on again?” She used the remote to flip through channels until she reached one particular network that was currently playing some anime she vaguely recalled.

Adrien gasped, his eyes even wider than she had previously thought possible. And there was a particular shine to them as he stared at the TV like it was the holy grail. He barely noticed Marinette anymore, now standing in front of the TV and completely enthralled.

Marinette chuckled softly to herself as she lightly took his arm and pulled him back so they both sat back on the couch. Adrien let her, his gaze never straying from the screen as the teen magical girl protagonist transformed to fight the monster of the day.

That was the day Adrien was first introduced to anime.

It was also the day Marinette inadvertently created an otaku.

_____________

One day, he had called her in a panic while she had been at work.

“Adrien?! What’s going on?” She asked.

“It…this thing just came out and it’s crawling the floor! IT ATE PLAGG!”

She balked. “WHAT?”

“He tried to attack it and—wait. Plagg? You’re alive! What are you…NO WAIT PLAGG, NO!”

Marinette had practically thrown her apron to Tikki and rushed home. Within minutes, she had reached the flat and slammed the door open to what could only be chaos.

Or at least the sort of chaos that comes with Adrien huddled with his legs held up on the couch and glaring in betrayal as Plagg proudly sat atop the Roomba that was still making its way across the floor.

And…

Yeah, Marinette couldn’t.

She just couldn’t.

It took a good five minutes for her to stop laughing.

Adrien pouted the whole time, muttering about traitorous cats and roommates.

And Plagg continued to ride the Roomba. Looking for all purposes like a king, even when it knocked into the counter at one point and an empty can of Camembert fell on his head.

Marinette just laughed harder.

_____________

She had slowly been introducing Adrien to the world. Bit by bit. One lesson at a time. And with each day that passed, he seemed to become more comfortable with her and the world at large. And while he never said much about his life before, what he did say (and what he didn’t) was more than enough to paint a picture. One that Marinette didn’t like and made her silently swear to herself she would be having WORDS with his family if she ever met them.

But Adrien had been getting better. Happier. More outgoing as time passed.

He had even gotten a job at the coffee shop as a barista. Which was kind of amazing, to be honest. He didn’t know anything about coffee, but he seemed skilled at mixing things. When she had asked, he made a comment about “potions” being his best class.

Funny guy. Though she wasn’t sure she understood the joke.

There was also just…something about him that seemed to draw people in. Whenever he was working the register (after he had finally learned how to work the machine and count money, and wasn’t THAT an experience in itself?), the number of customers seemed to grow exponentially compared to other days. It just didn’t make sense. Adrien just smiled and said it was part of his charm.

Another joke she didn’t understand.

Tikki seemed to get it though. Her friend was also a bit weird, but she and Adrien seemed to get along rather well. It was like they shared a bond of some sort.

To be honest, Marinette was a little jealous.

But she was happy for him. He was really growing over the months they spent together. Wherever he came from, it didn’t seem to be the healthiest place. Adrien certainly never wanted to talk about it, so the best she had to go on were his behaviors and conjecture.

He seemed happy, at any rate. He was able to leave the apartment now. He was making friends, and seemed to be getting rather popular even. He had a job—not that he seemed to need it given how much money he had…even if he had no idea how to use it.

Who tried to pay for a pastry in gold coins anyway?

Ah well. It didn’t matter.

Whatever happened, he was her weird roommate.

And she wouldn’t have him any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien liked his “roomie”. Marinette was…nice. She was patient and took the time to explain things when he didn’t understand. She didn’t yell at him for making a mess—which he did…often. She smelled like cookies.

And most importantly, she didn’t ask questions.

Oh sure, she gave him weird looks fairly regularly. And she was clearly confused by his lack of knowledge about things that were normal to her. But she never ridiculed him for it. If anything, she was teaching him, and he had to thank her for it—especially for anime. Because this? This was awesome!

She was the best roommate he could have asked for.

Even if she was a Muggle.

He shouldn’t be with her. Or here at all. How could things have possibly worked out this way? Or even half as well as they have?

Adrien Agreste was a Wizard. The son of Gabriel Agreste, a high-ranking official of the French Ministry and personal friend of the French Minister of Magic. He came from a long line of powerful Wizards and no blood pollution.

At least…not until his mother, whom had been a half-Veela.

Gabriel hadn’t known at the time when he chose to pursue her. And it remained questionable to this day whether it had been her Veela charm that had driven him to her in the first place. But he had been furious when he had realized it, and it was considered a dark mark on the family line.

Maybe that was why she was gone? It was certainly why Gabriel had kept Adrien isolated for most of his life. At least until Beauxbatons. But even there, things had been…stifling.

A private room. His classes carefully chosen for him. Personal tutors. And his interactions with other students were kept limited to avoid anyone falling under his charm. But even then, his heritage gave him an aura of some sort. One that made people in awe of him, but only further increased the distance between him and everyone else.

Sure, Chloe was there, and she had been his childhood friend, but the Minister’s daughter did not endear herself to anyone. And when it became known he was her friend, it hadn’t helped matters.

It was little wonder that a number of the other students avoided him.

Other than ones who wanted to use him.

Like Lila Rossi.

He hadn’t known what to think of the girl. She was popular enough, sure. But her stories rang false to him and she tended to treat people around her like helpers rather than friends. He knew from the start that there was something about her that was untrustworthy.

Lila…had an unusual interest in him. One he didn’t like. It made him uncomfortable.

And yet somehow, she wormed her way into his father’s good graces. So much so that of all people, Gabriel had decided to arrange a marriage for Adrien to her. Because of course it just made sense for the two to get together.

Not that Adrien’s opinion had ever been consulted on the matter.

Gabriel was nothing if not stubborn though. Once he had set his mind on something, that was it. Adrien had never won an argument against him. And he knew he wouldn’t win here either. Even when it was his own future on the line. Even when it was his life being decided for him.

So he ran.

It was quite possibly both the best and worst decision of his life.

He had been completely lost and overwhelmed at first. And almost immediately questioned his sanity. But he just couldn’t let himself back down on on this one. Sure, his father had always been somewhat overprotective of him and controlling of his life. And he had been fine with it. Mostly. Kind of. Not really.

But an arranged marriage was just…too much? He ended up gathering his more important belongings into his trunk and taking off with Plagg before he had even realized what he was doing.

Adrien had kicked himself afterwards. He had always given in to his father’s orders before and it turned out…well, not “fine”, but all right, at least. Surely…surely this wasn’t that big of a deal right? That his father was selecting his wife for him? That his future would be set in stone before he even really had a chance to figure it out for himself.

He was an adult now. Surely…he could choose what he wanted to do, right?

Well, he was an adult, sure, but he knew nothing about the world. And especially not the Muggle world, where he had escaped to in a rash bit of insight. Because surely his father would never think to look for him there? His father didn’t know anything about the Muggle world, after all.

Except then Adrien had realized all too late that he hadn’t even known anything about Muggles, either. His father wouldn’t let him take the Muggle Studies class, so he knew nothing about what they were like or how to fit in. He had money on him, of course, but what currency did Muggles use? How did he convert it? Where could he even look to for a place to stay?

Within two hours, he was regretting everything. He was debating giving in to his fate when Plagg had seemed to get an interest in something and ran off, resulting in a chase that led Adrien to a quaint little coffee shop.

If nothing else, he could take a break here and regain his bearings.

But…

Everything had smelled so wonderful. And the pastries looked heavenly. He had known it was a bad idea, but…well, maybe they could accept Galleons here?

How many Galleons were one of these pastries worth?

Well, a dozen should be enough, right?

The strange look that the girl gave him only made him want to duck his head in shame.

It wasn’t enough, was it?

But as if she was proficient in Occlumency and could tell exactly what he was thinking, she instead took him aside and talked to him. And despite himself, he told his story.

Well…half of it.

A third?

A little, at least. Just enough to give the basics of what she needed to know.

And it turned out to be enough, as she made him an offer he’d had to have been a fool to refuse.

That was how he ended up sharing a home with a Muggle. A sweet and strong woman whom, for all of their differences and completely separate worlds, he had felt closer to than anyone he had known in the Wizarding world.

She didn’t understand where he came from. And he certainly couldn’t tell her. Wizarding laws and secrecy and all. But she was still trying to help in her own way. And he could tell her…some things, at least. About his feelings. About his wants. Things he had never been able to tell his father. Things his father had never cared to listen to.

But she listened. And she cared. And she offered shelter. For him and Plagg, regardless of how much a of a pain the cat could be.

He had his own room, sure. But it was a quarter of the size of the old one and somehow all the better for it. While bare at first, the walls were eventually covered in silly posters from his favorite anime. The shelves were filled with books and toys, little knick knacks that actually made him happy to see. Some things Marinette helped him picked out. A lot of which were just things he saw and wanted. All sorts of things he had never been able to get back…there.

And he wasn’t stuck in the room either. He could leave it whenever he wanted. Spend time in the living room and watch the “television” and feed his growing love of anime (once he had gotten rid of the fireplace because he wasn’t about to risk someone trying to get in through the Floo Network, even by accident). Play “video games” with Marinette. Go on the balcony and enjoy the sun. Even just go out into the city whenever he wanted.

It was…a truly marvelous experience for someone who had been isolated for so long.

He even had a job now, working at the very shop where he had met Marinette. He knew nothing about coffee or the machines, but Potions was his best class and one he enjoyed. Mixing and cooking things to create something new was a rather amazing thing. And while coffee weren’t potions, he had come to realize that certain things he had learned in his class could translate over. A difference of heat and changing the length of time the coffee was allowed to roast resulted in a different flavor. Though he did have to fight for the position with another coworker by the name of Tikki, a friend of Marinette’s whom she introduced him to.

And that was the other thing…

“You’re a Wizard, aren’t you?”

He had admittedly not expected to run into anyone from the Wizarding world at all. But the short red-head with twinkling blue eyes caught him off guard completely.

Even as she smiled sadly at him.

“Marinette doesn’t know, does she?”

Dumbly, he could only shake his head in response.

He hadn’t wanted to be discovered. Not by anyone.

It turned out to be for the best though. Tikki was a huge help in getting him more acclimated. She explained to him more about fitting in as a Muggle. She even led him to the nearest Wizarding Bank where he was finally able to change his Galleons to the correct currency.

As a Witch herself, he knew she wouldn’t reveal him. And it was nice…having someone else who knew, even if she didn’t know the full story. She was still in touch with the Wizarding world and could help him. Giving him news or updates, point him to the nearest hidden shops for anything he might need. And yes, even laugh with him over his latest failures.

“It’s not funny!” He pouted as Tikki was practically howling after hearing the latest story about King Plagg the Roomba Rider.

“Yes, it is! YES, IT IS!”

“I even have video.” Marinette added cheerfully, much to Tikki’s pleasure as both women proceeded to look at her cellphone and chortle over the recording. Adrien was simply ignored and left to sulk.

He would never live it down.

It had been months like this, and some embarrassment aside, he had thoroughly enjoyed it. All of it.

He even enjoyed working. Though he admittedly felt a little guilty that his Veela charm seemed to draw in customers to the point where there would often be a pretty long ling just to order coffee. But Marinette and the other workers just laughed it off.

He was…really starting to consider this home.

The coffee shop. The city. The flat.

Tikki.

Plagg.

Marinette.

Rooming with Marinette was probably the best thing to happen to him. He had been trying new things. Learning so much he hadn’t known previously. Seeing things. Doing things.

Living.

It was...nice. It was home. It was everything he wanted in a home. Even if he was banned from activating anything besides the television when Marinette wasn’t there.

He was ever grateful that Plagg had led him to her.

#ml fic #ml prompt #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #tikki #plagg #plagg no #ml au #harry potter au #roommates au

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sweetmisschesire · 4 years

Text

Pt 2

Maysibelle (mayday)

Mayday is the last fight before eve

So the fight starts with her singing and the brothers blasting their way in

Since they dont have a guitar player they just sort of use some recordings they render to their liking to make up for it

So in their interruption imagine it like the Highway to Hell opera video, only right before the singing of the rock song starts maysibelle stops the music by snapping her fingers

She has both those mannequins neon j made for her and actual people dancing

After she stopped the music the dancers stopped with the human dancers moving off to the side of the ballroom for their own safety

This is the dress she is wearing

And this is the mask

And hair

(She speaks in an aloof, emotionless tone)

“Ah so this is the infamous duo who don’t know their place”

(Z is zuke w is west)

W: and what exactly is our place

“Away from these districts, learning how to play respectable music”

Z: you all need to come off it already, what do you have against rock?

“It boisters itself as superior in music and yet now look at it. Only the talentless dare practice it. “

W: me thinks the lady doth protest too much

“How dare you. Leave, now.”

Z: sorry but not without this district

*laughter* “very well then have at you”

So the video i linked before with the three songs is what plays during her battle

(This is not a fun fight for west, gotta add some humor)

While she sings west and zuke have to dodge the mannequins as they dance towards them as a attack

They find out they’re mannequins when a mask gets knocked of one of them leaving the oulines of pupiless eyes on a blank face

W: mannequins why mannequins?

Z: seriously those things still freak you out?!

W: yes! Especially ones that dance on their own!

They also keep getting hit by something they cant really see

Zuke: what the heck is going on what is even hitting us

W: she’s got nice pipes though, but we can play better

The next phase starts with the second song and after theyve beaten the mannequins, with a head of one being knocked into her mask damaging it

The mannequins are cleared out and some life sized marrionettes drop down

W: it gets worst! Please no dolls.

Her costume in this phase is this (it was under her dress)

And both her and the marrionette dance ballet as she sings

The difference here is the marionettes will lift up and drop down so they have to watch the shadows to see where they land

This is also how they start understanding what’s hitting them

Z: *watches a shadow fly towards his brother and hit him* so that’s what been hitting us? Bro! Watch for all the shadows on the floor, i think that’s what was getting us in the last phase!

W: why am i the one she keeps aiming for?! Lady lay off already!

Z: bigger target?

They cut down the marionettes from their strings leaving them useless with west panicking when one touches him and throwing it at maysibelle, fracturing her mask more

“I’ll get you for that.”

W: you’ve literally been going mostly after me already!

(She changes her costume during the convo, she walks behing a screen and steps out in it)

“As your brother said you are indeed the larger target. And your brother has been far more respectful than you.”

W: hey

Z: she’s kind of right though

The skirt is a bit shorter covering her feet bit easy to move in

No assistance this time though she has fans she throws that are weapons and they still have to dodge the mystery attack

At one point dk west trips over a doll that somehow lands on the floor

W: *screams*

“..... it’s just a doll. And don’t you dare break her.

Z: bro we’ve gotta do something about this fear of yours

The end of this phase after they’ve hit her enough ends with wth west knocking on of her fans back into her mask which is now covered in cracks

“Are you incapable of anything but disrespect?”

W: are you capable of talking like you can feel emotions?

“Perhaps i should hit you harder?”

Z: you are just on fire today bro

W: what she acts and talks like she can’t feel anything

“Emotions are meant to be controlled, it is inappropriate to let others see you in such a state.”

W:...

Z:... what

W: you know you would probably have an easier time telling people how you feel eithout that mask

“Don’t you dare to touch it! I am never to show my face in public!”

Z: okay this is getting a bit uncomfortable

W: what kind of messed up logic is that?

“I don’t expect you to understand his teachings. Nor do i expect you to understand that you two could never power Vinyl City!”

W: says you and every other so called artist. Can’t wait to prove you all wrong

“I’ve had just about enough of you. Since you’ve made it further than i thought capable, allow me to show you my true power. Bask in trance techno opera, all i was ever born to do.”

Z: alright now it’s really uncomfortable

She walks behind another screen and steps out in this

The lights center on her and the brothers can make out this black smoke like mist surrounding her a bit

She moves her hands to the start of her phantom of the opera performance and the mist moves with her

Z: that’s what was hitting us before?!

As she sings she sends out this mist that is basically like energy and they have to dodge it while attacking her

They get to the lull in the song with no singing

Z: whoever you’re doing this for you dont have to

West isnt quite following yet

“Hmm, charming. I do this because i must. But since you seem to love doling out advice, allow me to return the favor.”

“Apologize. She deserves that much from you, and more.”

Zuke is surprised by this and maysibelle gets in a hit as she goes back to singing

W: maybe focus on the fight instead of small talk?

Z: ...

W: seriously she’s just messing with ya

Z: no she’s not. I know exactly who she’s talking about

It takes a lot to get through this fight and maysibelle actually shows some signs of anger and frustration before immediately pushing them down

This is where west starts picking up on something being wrong with her

Towards the end of the song they work their way up to her and zuke manages to push though and smash his drumsticks down

Hebhad been aiming for her microphone but accidentally hit her mask finallt shattering it

The music stops as she screams and drops to her knees covering her face

W: woah man that was a bit much don’t you think? You coulda broker her nose

Z: I don’t think that’s the reason she screamed.

He notices some of the people left are peering over and sees the cameras oving to see her better

Z: *frowning* do you all not know how to respect someone’s privacy?!

They back off a bit startled at him zuke picks up a cloak that came off a mannequin from earlier and drapes it over her

Maysibelle readjusts it so the hood shrouds her face completely she grasps at the shards of her mask trying to put it back together

“can’t let them see can’t let them see can’t let them see”

W: okay what is wrong with-

Z: west don’t. Look i have no idea why you think those things. There’s nothing wrong with your emotions or the way you look

“How would you know? You’ve no experience of them.”

Z: yeah but do you either?

*voice quivers, but still remains emotionless not crying* I don’t remember my face. It’s been so long.”

W: how do you not-

Z: west. Just...why? Why not let yourself feel or show?

“I’m not allowed.”

Zuke moves towards her but she cuts him off

“Leave. I don’t need your pity.”

Z: that’s not what i-

“I said go.”

The two leave her ballroom and she calls out to them still gripping her mask pieces

“Remember to apologize. You owe her so much.”

Interlude

Z: that was super uncomfortable

Kliff appears

“What was uncomfortable?”

West goes to answer but zuke cuts him off

Z: the walk back, the fight was really exauhsting so it was uncomfortable wslk back

West gives he brother a loo and kliff shrugs

“Well good job getting another district. She was gonna beca hard one. Go get some rest we’ll take the last district tomorrow”

As the two leave to their rooms west talks

W: what was that back there?

Z: kliff keeps ignoring me when i mention how bad the nsr artists look and i dont know if you’ve noticed but i listened to some of maysibelle’s fans on the way back

W: and?

Z: they were praising her for staying “proper” during our fight, like they really do expect her to not show emotions and when i asked them about that thry say it’s what they expect of her how she’s always bern this way

Z: west there’s something really wrong with the nsr artists it’s like they’ve been... broken

W:... what did she mean by apologize

Z: it has to do with the last district.

Z: it’s nadia’s district.

This was a long one

Next one will be long too, mainly cause if the last fight with tatiana

I’ve really hurt mayday huh? :D

#nsr #no straight roads #nsr au #no straight roads au #no worshiped roads #nwr #nsr mayday #nsr zuke #nsr dk west

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sweetcheol · 4 years

Text

college boyfriend!seungkwan

—genre: fluff

—au: college, neighbors

—pairing: boo seungkwan x reader

—song to listen to while reading: the sound — the 1975

—word count: 2.4k

—warning(s): mentions of sex, a bit of cursing.

you really, really liked your apartment sometimes.

the complex was located only a street down from university, which meant that no matter how many times your alarm had not gone off, you still hadn’t been late to as many classes as one would expect.

you also had a pretty spacious kitchen, which didn’t amount to much to be honest, considering you barely had time to cook an actual meal and almost always opted for take out or instant noodles instead.

you had massive windows in the living room, which was extremely nice during the day and almost just as nice during the night (considering you actually got a nice view of the city from the fifth floor).

but you also really, really hated your apartment sometimes.

the elevator almost never worked, which was good for your health but was also pretty annoying considering the amount of stairs you had to climb to get to your floor.

the windows got stuck frequently, and no matter how many times you had tried to get it fixed, they just didn’t bulge.

and well, the walls. they were nice and in good condition, but they were annoyingly thin.

and, to be fair, it didn’t seem to be such a big problem at first.

because well, you liked your neighbors.

sure, you’d hear the music coming from the apartment next door and occasional stupid arguments, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

hansol and chan were fun neighbors.

you once had coffee with hansol when the rain had trapped you both in the same coffee shop, and discovered you had a lot in common.

and chan had once helped you carry your stuff home after you had ran into each other on the street.

they were pretty nice.

and living next to them was well, pretty nice.

but then the third one moved in.

and boy.

oh boy.

you never saw him.

but your new neighbor, named seungkwan, had the most beautiful (and more importantly, loudest) voice you had ever heard.

which you would have appreciated under other circumstances, you were sure.

after all, well, he was a pretty good singer.

one that had the annoying habit of showering almost exclusively at midnight (or so it seemed), while singing at the top of his lungs.

the songs he almost always chose were ones that pretty much showed off his amazingly extensive vocal range.

you were impressed.

but most of all, you were impressed at how much you managed to keep your frustration to yourself.

because well, as a college student, midnight was a time you either spend studying, sleeping, or watching your drama as an attempt to relax from your day.

activities that didn’t need seungkwan’s singing as a background noise.

most of the times you didn’t actually mind.

like sure, you once told hansol about it and received an equally annoyed “dude but i’m the one that gets to live with him” in return.

which, like everything else, you just let pass.

until one night you had gone home from having one of those days, that left you practically breaking down the moment you walked past the door.

and it had been the night seungkwan had decided to bless your entire floor with his rendition of opera.

so you did the only thing you could think about.

you waited until the water stopped, made your way to your neighbor’s apartment, and banged on the door.

and to your surprise, it wasn’t hansol or chan who opened the door, but the one person you wanted to see.

“hi,” he greeted you, a smile on his lips.

“hi,” you answered back. “i uh, live next door,”

“oh yeah, hansol has told me about you,”

“really?”

“yeah. said you once dropped coffee on his lap.”

“it was an accident, jesus,”

“hehe yeah. anyways, i’m seungkwan.”

“(y/n)”

you ended up seeing seungkwan a lot after that.

more like, he had asked for your number and had begun to talk a lot after that.

and no matter how much hanson and chan, along with your roomates minghao ane jun, started bugging the two of you about it, you insisted you were just friends.

you were, weren’t you? seungkwan was a friendly person. it mafe sense you guys were just friends.

on his end, at least. because, well. maybe you did end up blushing a lil when you saw his name flash up on your screen.

and maybe you did look forward to when you’d go out for coffee, or for a walk, or literally whatever, no matter how many times you told yourself it was not a date.

only, seungkwan felt the exact same way you did.

and it was painfully obvious to everyone else.

minghao and jun actually had a bet going with hansol and chan on who would ask the other one out first (the loser would have to put their flat up for a party).

but well, seungkwan and you were fairly oblivious.

and then one day he saw you walking home from uni.

but you weren’t alone, and seungkwan noticed the way the blonde boy you were walking with kept on looking at you with a huge smile on his face.

and then you and your friend had finally parted ways and you met with seungkwan on the stairs.

“i didn’t know you were friends with jeonghan.”

“uh, he’s in my lit class. you know him?”

“a bit. we have some friends in common. are you... good friends?”

“you could say that, i guess. we’re going on a date tonight.”

seungkwan swore his heart broke a bit at your words.

because hell, he’d been too late. he had just wanted to take his time, see if maybe you liked him back, but he had made a mistake.

and it’s not like he was spying you or anything, but he had walked out of his flat to pick up his mail when you were leaving for your date... and wow.

you had turned and waved at him, and he had just stared at you as you left the building, a blush on his cheeks and a bitter taste in his mouth.

because you looked absolutely gorgeous.

but you were on a date with another guy.

or you were supposed to go on a date with another guy, at least.

because jeonghan’s car had broken down before he got to the restaurant you were supposed to meet.

it wasn’t his fault, and you weren’t angry at him, but it still upset you a little bit.

but what upset you the most was the way you couldn’t stop thinking about seungkwan, not even when you were supposed to go an a date with your very attractive classmate.

so you assured jeonghan it was okay, asked if he needed any help and he told you he didn’t, ordered a bit of food to go (it was your favorite restaurant anyways).

you were practically sweating the entire way back to your complex.

and the small blush on your cheeks was still there.

even when you knocked on seungkwan’s door and not on yours, the blush on your cheeks was still there.

“is seungkwan home?” you had asked chan he opened the door.

he couldn’t get his eyes off the plastic bags on your hand, so you gave him your box of fries when he nodded and let you in.

“it’s the door on the right! next to the bathroom!” chan had told you, smiling wide and starting to eat his way through his fries.

you didn’t want to intrude, and didn’t have to, because seungkwan’s door opened a bit when he heard chan’s indication to his room.

“oh... hey (y/n),”

“hope you haven’t had dinner yet, ‘cause i got a lot of food for us to go through,”

“i could always help you out if you don’t finish it all you know”

“shut uP chan”

and you noticed, with seungkwan wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and hair still damp from the shower, that you liked him.

you really liked him.

“so, how was the date?” he asked while sitting down on his bed, trying his best to not let out just how jealous he was.

“we didn’t actually - he didn’t go,”

“he stood you up? i might punch him the next time i see him at seungcheol’s. no, i will punch him.”

“no, he uh - had car problems. it’s alright, he let me know early.”

“i thought - the food...”

“i got it for us”

and if seungkwan liked you before, he liked you even more now.

hell, he really liked you.

“oh”

it all went down from there.

and just like it had been before, it was fairly obvious to everyone around you that you two were not just friends anymore.

no matter how much he had blushed that night in his room after you’d shared a slice of your favorite strawberry cheesecake and he had kissed your lips so softly you thought he didn’t, seungkwan does NOT fear pda.

he sees you at uni? he kisses you.

the two of you meet at your apartment’s lobby? he kisses you.

the two of you go out for dinner? he kisses you.

you two are hanging out with your friends and jeonghan appears? he kisses you.

his arm is always around your shoulder anyways, and he’s a bit taller than you, so kissing you when you walk through the city is fairly easy for him.

he is actually. the clingiest boyfriend. in the history of boyfriends.

texts you 24/7.

half of the time he’s talking about how much he loves being with you so it’s okay.

does super corny things sometimes like sending you flowers with cute little notes on them.

he just really wants you to know how much he appreciates you.

you know those free concerts you got before you got together? yes, you get them even more often now.

he calls them serenades now though.

you’re making breakfast together after sleeping at his place? he “serenades” you.

you’re studying together for an upcoming test of yours? he “serenades” you.

you’re out shopping? he “serenades” you.

“seungkwan this is literally the middle of zara.”

“ah, you love my voice.”

and you do. just maybe not when you’re literally in the middle of zara.

but he is also the sweetest.

he cares so much about you.

kinda nags at you sometimes, but it’s always for the best.

“have you eaten yet? should i order a pizza or something?”

“we had pizza last night.”

“yeah but we can have pizza tonight as well. i don’t think you’ve eaten yet, did you?”

thanks to him you’ve never gone to bed after 2 a.m. on your free nights anyways.

the only times you do is when you watch a drama together though.

and does he loooove drama nights.

he sings along to every. single. ost.

kind of serves since he’s a drama major anyways (and seem to only ever do musicals).

you two rehearse a lot together.

or well, he rehearses with you watching him intently and clapping at every single scene (because you can’t sing for life).

you’re always front row and centre at every single production he’s in.

smiles wiiiiiide when he sees you cheering for him.

he’s the exact same way for you though.

he’s always there for you.

literally the most supportive boyfriend.

gets super flustered when anyone asks if you’re together.

but somehow always makes sure he tells everyone else you’re together.

it’s the duality.

and you find it adorable so you probably end up kissing his cheek, which makes him even more flustered.

and even happier because well, now everyone knows you’re together.

took things super slow for the first months of your relationship.

but he grew out of it as time flew by.

sweet and slow make-out sessions are a must after a long day.

low-key said he loved you during one of those.

your lips were plump, and your hair a mess, and he had never seen such a beautiful sight.

“i love you,”

“i love you too,”

you guys make love much more than you have sex.

he’s just a big romantic.

lots of hand holding too.

kisses you the whole. time.

the kind of moans that are muffled by kissing and mixed with a lot of sweet little nothings.

a pretty vanilla kind of lover.

still a veryyyy passionate lover though.

your pleasure comes first don’t even try to argue with him.

amazing ! at oral.

and loves it.

both to give it and to receive it (but likes giving more).

praise!kink.

especially when it’s you praising him.

loves missionary because it grants him a lot of kisses.

is a huge fan of having you riding him too as well (esp when you bend down and kiss him right in the middle of it).

he just reallyyyyyy likes kissing you, okay?

anyways. seungkwan loves showing you off.

and will show you off when he gets the chance.

gets super sassy about it though.

“kwannie it’s okay, everyone knows we’re a couple anyways.”

“a couple? baby, we’re the couple.”

ever heard of (y/n)? your name is baby now. sometimes it’s love, or honey, but mostly baby.

low-key got u matching sweatshirts or something.

they’re probs just pain black sweatshirts.

but they’re the same !!!

matching lockscreens.

it was probably his idea but it’s super cute.

probably has you saved as my love or something of the sort.

a lot karaoke dates.

you drag minghao, jun, chan and hansol with you, too.

seungkwan always ends up showing off though.

“this one’s for my baby!”

“dude, literally every single one has been for your baby”

“shut uP chan”

would, will, and have fought people for you.

like that time you were having dinner with the boys and hansol winked at you over the table as a joke.

seungkwan literally went ノಠ_ಠノ the moment he noticed.

“don’t even try me hansol chwe, i know where you live.”

“you live there.”

“exactly.”

then you kiss him and he’s like (◠‿◠✿)

anyways.

he really, really loves you.

the sweetest, sassiest, most caring boyfriend.

i want to date college bf!seungkwan :(

#seungkwan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seungkwan smut #seventeen smut #seungkwan imagines #seventeen imagines #seungkwan boyfriend au #seventeen boyfriend au #seungkwan x reader #type: [bulletpoints]#marwrites

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innermoonlight-bhe · 3 years

Text

Me, again, on Destiel. Please read.

I’ve been having problems all this month. And while I was self-exploring the reasons of my uneasiness, I tracked it back to 15x18. When I first watched the episode I had lots of unresolved feelings. I felt happy and at the same time really distressed. After waiting for two week for the end of Supernatural I thought those feelings would disappear but they just kept on getting stronger. I began feeling stressed and, this last two weeks, feelings just empty. I had no desire to do anythings, like I was lost. Yesterday I realized why and got me sad and mad at the same time. I don’t want to take a lot of time writing this but there are too many emotions and rational thoughts that don’t let me sleep at night.

This is why I want to divide this text into two parts:The first one being the queerbating debate on internet. This includes the normalization of heterosexual relationships, audiences, plots and writing, marketing and advertising, and other things that have to do with t.v. industry. In specific, the rare case of CW and its treatment of the whole Supernatural family. In the second part I would like to focus on my personal experience, which I’m sure is same to most people who were left all alone in this Destiel world of disappointment. This last one you can decide to ignore or share with me. The one that i’m most interested is that you read the first part, even though it can seem a little out of context, since I’ll be referring to another tv shows of the CW.

FIRST PART THEN OF THE DESTIEL OPINION:When I was left so sad after the queerbaiting I began watching a famous soup opera aka telenovela, called Yo soy Betty, la fea. It’s famous worldwide and I felt it like a comfort home after all the Destiel drama. It made me happy because the story plot is only one: the heterosexual couple that falls in love. Of course I’m reducing this too much, but the point is that yesterday, after I finished watching it, I realized that even though the main couple had problems at the end the audience knew they would’ve ended together. It did happen, in the anti-last episode, same as in supernatural and the Cas confession. The two further episodes centered on the happy conclusion on the story. There are clear points to establish:

Point 1: Supernatural was born as a serious mainly centered on two heterosexual man traveling all along a country hunting monsters while looking for a father. Meanwhile a classic telenovela centers on a love couple who fight against everythings to be together; in this case it’s establish since the beginning and no one will except anything else.

Point 2: Meanwhile telenovela’s audiences are destined to be woman, wanting to follow the classic love story; Supernatural was being male focused actually did excepted woman but also men watchers. Supernatural had a largest specter of viewers.

Point 3: Telenovelas are not willing to change the story for the audiences desires. They work with practical and classic formulas that rarely will fail. There’s no necessity to receive a feedback to complete. Supernatural and tv series, on the other hand, actually need the feedback from the viewers because on it depends their permanency on the screen.

Supernatural needed to keep their viewers high so the show could continue. I’m gonna leave the classic telenovela out for a moment. It’s important settling this differences to approximate myself to the basic point of my madness: how unethical is the queerbaiting.The public opinion changes, and The CW having clear this is very know to keep in touch with fans wishes and needs. In the case of Jane the Virgin, a barely combination of the telenovela classic plot but in a tv series way, had a big “change” with one of their main characters: Petra. Her connection with the main character, Jane, was noted and wanted by many of the viewers. But the show’s creator knew that main plot (point 1)was a girl who accidentally gets pregnant and eventually falls in love with the love of her life, Rafael. So the show writers wouldn’t just change this main plot in order to make a couple happen, so instead they gave the public what they wanted by making Petra bisexual and introducing a perfect girl for her, also called Jane, to deliver the wish of fans. This relationship worked purely and on its on. The reactions with Petra bisexuality were low, and they took care of it as if it was something normal and not anything that needed satanizing. No one could be expected to freak, not even Petra’s twins. Even though the first seasons Petra only had male relationships. This is a good thing that The CW did, but they didn’t do this out of the goodness of their heart: they did it for views and for the audience (point 2). Jane the virgin was also planned to have female audiences and to treat serious social issues respecting sexuality and love. This is why it didn’t came as a surprise.

Then why did Destiel couldn’t happen? Because the CV is homophobic? Probably there’s some of this in it, but the reality it’s they weren’t giving up on the part of the audience that is actually homophobic, or that at least won’t feel comfortable watching a heterosexual character discover himself as bi. The thing of the audiences is important because the “ambiguity” in which Cas’ confession was treated worked perfectly for them: it gave exactly the sufficient enough to keep us happy, meaning while keeping the perfect amount of “friendship”. So anyone can take whatever they want for the story. By this part I understand why they wanted to deal with this confession in an ambiguous way: to please everybody. But why did they wanted to please everybody? It wasn’t out of kindness of their heart, it was for views.The whole queerbaiting debate has being on the tables for a long time but we also ignore the unethical implications on it. It has been used by many contemporary media, to hint at something that the producers are not expecting to happen any time. And even though, they keep on teasing us. This is highly unethical because the reason behind them is the accumulation of money. Supernatural survived because of Destiel. I resisted myself to say this because I had respect for the series until I stopped watching around season 10. The story and plots were doom, repetitive and boring at times. We keep watching for the emotions caused by the supernatural family. Not only Destiel but Sam and all of the characters. The original plot explained in the point 1 was lost and blurred, we were far away from that premise and that was why the finale episode feel just bad.

The show had chances to grow without losing the origina plot but also confronting change and accept that sometimes, things must pass and you have to move. Destiel was an important support of the show, the views and year after year renovation of the series. Pointing at the queerbaiting has lost its meaning if we forgot why they do it, why they keep on doing this even though it makes us feel bad. This affects the shows work in perspective because it changes the plot and natural progression of the story. For the queerbaiting, they have scenes that are forgotten next episodes like they never happened. I’m a literature student and the first thing they say to us is that a scene, even a word, should be taken so seriously that it actually work on the long road of the story. In Destiel we have beautiful, all heart breaking scenes of Cas and Dean being romantic, closed, just in love. The Dean’s confession were he admitted to the priest he wanted to experience new things, the Castiel’s love confession, and others are an example of how this scenes have a space in the show but are still isolated from the original story. They don’t play a part in the bigger image. That’s why we don’t see Dean talk to Sam about Cas, this is why they are so many Destiel plots left unsolved. I have a small memory of an old lady assuring Dean that he’s in love, even though we haven’t seen in a long time a female in Dean’s life (Dean, who the first four seasons flirted with e v e r y woman he met. Because producers and writers can let this scenes happen as long as it doesn’t change the main characters. Even, they are willing to let us think that Cas could be bi but Dean isn’t, by not having him say anything after Cas says I love you. And to be honest, we didn’t except much.

We knew that we were clowning and it’s not like we excepted a love making scene from those two. We raised our expectations after 15x18 and not after. A lot of us were waiting on the finale to bring joy even though we never actually imagined it would go canon. 15x18 lifted expectations very few had and that lots, myself for instance, returned to watch after hearing Destiel was semi-canon. It brought back feelings, I got to rewatch supernatural to enter the atmosphere once again... So it was perfect for the CW. On one hand, the biggest queerbaiting on history gave them back for 15x19 and 15x20 all the fandom they had lost for the previous queerbaiting and tiredness of waiting. And also, they keep the antis and the homophobe watching. It was perfectly staged and nothing else was expecting. Something similar happen with Jane the virgin. With the death of Michael (I rather shipped more Jane with Michael) a lot of fans stopped watching. This was planned since the beginning and they actually gave us a fake death and then the real one. I actually stopped watching one season of Jane the virgin after his death because I was devastated, even though since the beginning everything pointed at Jane ending up with Rafael. Her connection with Michael was lovely and pure love. But after killing him off they wrote the relationship of Jafael so perfectly, not rushed or anything: it developed in a way that her relationship with Michael was intact but finished by death. It was a hard punch but at the end we ended up to accept her relationship with Rafael because of the clear progression between the characters. But, at the end of the series, at the last season they decided it was good idea to bring Michael back from the death and have her chose Rafael, after all of the progress It took for her to forget Michael. The changed her and all of the perspective of love changed for the show. It made thing that soul mates don’t exist, that all the love Jane felt for Michael disappear after having a whole season of her suffering for her lost, after she wrote her first book for him. It would’ve been so much better for the story if Michael stayed death.

So the things is it’s not only queerbaiting on homosexual couples, but the whole idea that they need to have a huge audiences watching their last seasons. I returned to watch Jane the virgin excepting for Michael. This awful thing they do. Just for views and gain of capital bothers me and its what makes me angry. In the case of Supernatural it’s also a topic of homophobia and the fear that the homophobia of a few will ruin the views of series finales. An as I considere the unethical implications is why I would love to have them apologize to us. It’s like a person promising the stars and stopping you to move on, while they know nothing will happen. They use us as numbers to gain money and attention. The decision that I and a lot of people took to unfollow all of The CW accounts is no radical. It’s a little if we take into account all of the money they made from the unethical queerbaiting. It causes me a lot of anger and actually feel like a I need an apology because I felt used and dirty. This is the fault of the industry and the CW has a fame of doing so.

PART 2:

This will be little in comparison. Now I want to get to the sad sentimental part. I felt all empty because four years ago that I stopped watching I also stopped talking to the love of my life. Hearing about Destiel had me going back to moments. I even desired to talk to him again to tell him that I wasn’t all wrong. Destiel wasn’t platonic or an illusion. it has clearly staged to makes us think it could happen. It’s not the story of an angel who falls for a human, that gives everything up for him, that loves him. After his confession is the story of unrequited love. Dean never says it back and it’s a feeling that a lot of people have suffered. To love someone and not having them saying them back, of the relationship that never ends but at the end it’s one of the most important. This one I talked about I never dated, I never kissed, but he’s the man i’ve loved the most in my life. Having Castiel saying I love you and never receiving anything back, giving his life and no one saving him, it’s just heartbreaking for all of us who have constantly giving everything without expecting anything in return. At the same time it’s the story of a a couple that never happens but that should have. The same reflexion as always: if it were heterosexual it would’ve happen long time ago. But it also happens in real life, that if time alined, if things were in other way relationships would’ve happen with people in our lives.I had a lot of more feelings for Destiel, but that would be for another time. Right now I just realized why made me, personally, feed angry and sad. I realized I was a Cas to someone else. I realized I was used by a network. The queerbaiting actually has psychology repercussion on us, and it’s something they fail to understand. Accepting that I was affected by a tv show took me a hard time. I didn’t know how to explain to others why this had me absence for week, I thought I was ridiculous and week. I felt bad but know I realized I’m not wrong. It’s not my fault but it’s years of messing with out feelings on purpose. Some day i’ll write an essay on this. I have to much to say but I end it with this:

The media manipulates our emotions and doesn’t take any responsibility whatsoever.

Don’t trust the media.

(Sorry for the bad english, I’m mexican. But at least Destiel is canon in my language).

#destiel #queerbaiting #the cw #jane the virgin #jafael #petra #supernatural #deancas #15x18 #supernaturalfinale #betty la fea #destielcanon #curdueva #Petramos #supernaturalending #theysilencedthem #they silenced us

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freyayuki · 3 years

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Fate/Grand Order Thanksgiving 2020 Event

The Thanksgiving 2020 event just started in the Fate/Grand Order (#ad) (FGO) mobile game. This included several banners that featured various Servants.

Before the Thanksgiving banners were revealed, there was already a lot of speculation as to who the summonable Servants could possibly be.

Personally, I was really hoping that 5-star SSR Caster Merlin (#ad) would show up on one of these banners. Much more than the fact that he was meta, I just really like him. I tried to pull for him before, but, unfortunately, I failed to get him. Used all the resources I had available, but it was to no avail. Really made me wish that Fate/Grand Order has a pity system like in the Dissidia Final Fantasy: Opera Omnia (DFFOO) mobile game.

This incident happened quite a while ago, but I still distinctly remember one of my draws giving me a gold Caster card. For a moment, I really thought that I was about to get Merlin. I was already getting really excited, eyes drawn to the screen as the card slowly revealed itself. Then the animations finished playing out and instead of the Merlin I was hoping-practically expecting-to see, I was greeted with the sight of 4-star SR Caster Nitocris.

Needless to say, I was - I felt a lot of things, really. Anger. Disappointment. Sadness. I couldn’t help but hate Nitocris. I was so tempted to burn her. I didn’t, but it was a long freaking time before I even bothered to level her up. I just left her in my inventory, ignoring her. I didn’t even want to look at her.

There were times when I wish I hadn’t gotten that golden Caster card, so I wouldn’t have had to hope that I’d actually get the chance to have Merlin. Sigh. Anyway, ever since then, I’ve been waiting for Merlin’s next rate-up, so I could try (and probably most likely fail again) to roll for him.

Aside from Merlin, I was also hoping for 5-star SSR Alter Ego Meltryllis to be featured in one of the Thanksgiving banners. Unlike Merlin though, I actually already have a copy of Meltryllis. I remember the first time I started playing through the Abyssal Cyber Paradise SE.RA.PH event which featured Meltryllis. Initially, I didn’t really like her, but as the story went on, I found my view about her changing. I ended up liking her a lot, so much so that I ended up throwing tickets on her banner although I wasn’t planning to do so at all. Naturally, I failed to get her.

I thought I would have to wait for the rerun of the SE.RA.PH event (which wasn’t set to happen for a long, long time) before I could try again, but then this banner that featured her showed up a few or so month later. Although I didn’t have a lot of resources, I still resolved to try pulling for her again anyway. To my complete and utter shock, one of the tickets I threw on this banner actually gave me my very first copy of Meltryllis. Hell, yes!

I leveled her up and maxed out all of her skills. Even ended up Grailing her to Level 100. I’ve started giving her 4-star Fous to further increase her Attack and HP. I’ve also unlocked all of her Cards and given her Command Codes. Since there’s currently not a lot of 4 and 5-star rarity Codes yet, she has more than a few of the 3-star and lower ones. I plan to switch these out as soon as better Codes show up.

Even though I already have a copy of Meltryllis and she’s perfectly fine even at NP1 (Noble Phantasm Level 1), I still found myself wanting to increase her NP Levels anyway, so I wanted to try rolling for her again the next time she was featured on a banner.

Aside from Merlin and Meltryllis, I also wouldn't say no to having 5-star SSR Caster Scáthach-Skadi showing up on one of the Thanksgiving banners. She's not a fave or anything, which was why I readily skipped her when she first showed up in favor of saving my resources for 5-star SSR Archer Jeanne d'Arc who was coming very soon after Skadi.

Skadi is one of the top meta Casters. She supports chars with a Quick-based kit. An example is Meltryllis although she can function well enough even without Skadi. However, now that I also have NP2 5-star SSR Avenger Edmond Dantès (the Count of Montè Cristo), I was all the more interested in acquiring Skadi in order to make farming in this game much easier. I’d also love to be able to boost Melt’s power even more with Skadi’s help.

If I had to choose though, I'd still pick Merlin just because I really like him. Which was why I was beyond disappointed when I found out that none of the Thanksgiving banners will feature Merlin, Meltryllis, or Skadi. The banners didn't even include a Servant from each Class unlike how it was last year. Sigh.

Merry Christmas in the Underworld Banner

I was disappointed, but I still felt like pulling anyway. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while since I last pulled or got anything good in Fate/Grand Order. So I found myself swiping through the list of currently available banners.

One of these banners was for the rerun of the Merry Christmas in the Underworld event. 5-star SSR Lancers Ereshkigal and Enkidu were both on rate-up. I didn’t have either Servant, but I hadn’t planned on pulling here since I was waiting for the Thanksgiving banners, believing, hoping that I’ll be able to pull for either Merlin, Meltryllis, and/or Skadi.

I like Enkidu well enough and I definitely wouldn’t mind having him, which was why I tried and failed to pull for him before. As for Ereshkigal - well, playing through the aforementioned event kinda, sorta made me like her, which was why I decided I might as well pull here since I wouldn’t be able to go for the Servants I really wanted anytime soon. I know it was better to just keep saving so I’ll have more resources when these Servants show up, but, for some reason, I couldn’t seem to help myself. I really felt like pulling.

So I ended up tossing a few tickets on the Ereshkigal and Enkidu banner. Got trash, unfortunately. Also managed to get a copy of the featured 5-star CE Starry Nights, which is useless to me since there was no way I can possibly MLB this. Then I actually got a gold Lancer card. OMFG! Seriously? But who will it be? Ereshkigal? Enkidu? I watched as the card slowly revealed itself to be -

4-star SR Lancer Medusa. Eff! How utterly disappointing. Why do I keep getting trolled like this? Should have taken this as a hint to stop pulling already, but I just kept on trying anyway. Even ended up tossing like a ticket or 2 on the banner featuring 4-star SR Saber Altria Pendragon (Alter) and 5-star SSR Saber Altria Pendragon although I have no interest in either of them whatsoever, and the Story banner which is just a plain bad idea since there’s no one on rate-up there.

At least one of the tickets turned into a copy of the 5-star CE The Black Grail. I already have like one or 2 copies of this CE, so this latest copy means I’m another step closer to being able to MLB The Black Grail.

Thanksgiving Banner

The first Thanksgiving banner featured 5-star SSR Archer Gilgamesh. I remember the first time I tried rolling for him was way back during the pre-campaign for the SE.RA.PH event. Imagine my disappointment when he failed to show up. Didn’t think I’d ever be able to get him, but he actually came home months later. If I’m remembering correctly, I got my first copy of him on one of the Thanksgiving banners last year.

Maxed out his levels and skills and even ended up Grailing him to Level 100. Gave him 4-star Fous too. It was only after I was done with him that I started giving Meltryllis 4-star Fous.

Also gave him Command Codes although, at the moment, the only 5-star one he has is Wedge of the Heavens (Apply 20% Special Attack [Weak to Enuma Elish] for the engraved card) since Melt ended up getting the others and we have yet to get more of the really good ones. The Wdge of the Heavens Code features Gilgamesh and I have it on one of his Buster Cards.

And then, much later, the Battle in New York or Gil Fest event happened. The banner that came with this event featured Gilgamesh and 4-star SR Caster Queen of Sheba (Caster of Midrash). I wasn’t planning to pull here since I already have Gil, but I was kinda interested in Sheba since I didn’t really have a Caster with a Single Target (ST) NP. Not that I was in dire need of one since I do have Meltryllis. She also has an ST NP and, being an Alter Ego, she can take care of Casters, Assassins, Riders, and Berserkers.

What really got me to pull though was the featured 5-star CE. It’s called Gilgamesh in NY and it features Gilgamesh in this really nice outfit. Seriously, I wish we could have this as a costume for him. Its effect isn’t even that good (Increase Buster Card effectiveness by 20% (25% when MLB) and increase NP Gain by 10% (15% when MLB)), but I still wanted it anyway just because of the art.

I was hoping to be able to get at least one copy of this CE as well as the Queen of Sheba. I certainly didn’t think I’d be able to MLB this CE, much less get another copy of Gilgamesh. Heck, didn’t even think I’d be able to get a copy of Sheba. And yet, to my surprise, I actually managed to get the following:

my second copy of Gilgamesh. Of course, I readily fused the copies together for NP2

2 copies of the Caster of Midrash. Haven’t fused them yet though since, like I said, I really wasn’t in dire need of an ST Caster. Besides, I didn’t really have the resources to level and skill up the Queen of Sheba right now

5 copies of the Gilgamesh in NY CE, enough to MLB it

Welp, who’d have guessed this would happen, huh? Definitely not complaining though. Really super pleased about this.

Anyway, the point is that I really don’t need to pull for Gil in the Thanksgiving banner. NP2 is already more than good enough. But, like I said before, I was also feeling the urge to keep pulling. I didn’t really want to pull on the Ereshkigal banner anymore though since the Christmas event rerun was already over so it’ll be useless to get more copies of the featured CEs, especially since there was no way I’d be able to MLB them anyway.

On the other hand, there were no rate-up CEs on the Thanksgiving banners so the chance to get 5-star CEs like Formal Craft, The Black Grail, and Kaleidoscope were higher than usual (considering the crappy rates in this game, that really isn’t saying much at all). In fact, the image of the Formal Craft CE was really quite tempting because I already managed to get 4 copies of this from pulling in several different banners.

Formal Craft’s effect (Increase Arts Card effectiveness by 25% (30% when MLB)) isn't even that good, but I was still interested in getting one more copy anyway, if only so I could finally fuse the ones I already have and free up more space in my inventory. Of course, just because I actually pull, doesn’t mean I’ll get a copy of Formal Craft or even another copy of Gil. It was all up to RNG, as always. I guess it was worth a try though?

Well, it was too late for regrets because not only did I toss a couple of tickets on the Thanksgiving banner, I also ended up doing a multi-draw.

Gilgamesh Thanksgiving Banner First Multi-Draw Results

So I spend 30 Saint Quartz (SQ) to do a multi-draw and the very first card that shows up is Formal Craft. OMFG! Seriously?! Can you believe this? Heck, yeah! My Formal Craft is now finally MLB. Yahoo! I thought to myself, even if the results of the rest of this draw is bad, it doesn’t matter. The appearance of Formal Craft already more than makes up for whatever the rest of this roll will give me.

I keep watching the screen. A gold card shows up. I don’t recognize it though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this kind of card before.

It was no wonder because the card turned out to be a Ruler. Yup, that’s right. Just got my very first Ruler Servant - 5-star SSR Ruler Jeanne d’Arc. Heck, yeah! Can’t believe I just got Jeanne. Wow, just wow. I have no words for this.

Jeanne is one of my fave Servants in this game (hence why I gladly skipped Skadi so I could roll for her Archer version). I’ve liked her and I’ve been wanting to roll for her practically ever since I first met her when I started playing Fate/Grand Order.

IIRC, she’s never been on rate-up since I started playing FGO. She’s not limited though so, theoretically, she could spook me anytime. Well, I’ve been wanting her to spook me for what feels like forever, but she never has. Until now, that is. I’m so freaking happy she’s finally home.

But wait, there’s more. Seriously, this is like the gift that keeps on giving. Because as if getting Formal Craft and Ruler Jeanne d’Arc wasn’t already way more than enough, this draw also gives me yet another gold card. This time, I recognize it as an Archer card.

So, could it be? Am I actually gonna get - hell, yes! The gold Archer card just turned into Gilgamesh. Hello, NP3 Gil.

Also, hello to another copy (I think this must be my 3rd by now) of the 5-star CE Fragments of 2030.

Oh, wow. I really have no words for this. Two 5-star Servants and two 5-star CEs in one multi-draw. I think is one of my best pulls ever in this game.

Limit Breaking Servants and Craft Essences in Fate/Grand Order

Anyway, so I readily got Gilgamesh to NP3. Also fused all my Formal Craft copies. Didn’t fuse the Fragments of 2030 though since I don’t have enough to MLB it and it was much better to have like 2 supports equipped with it so you can get more stars.

Have started leveling up Jeanne though not done yet. I do have enough to max her out, but I’m a bit reluctant to do so. The Christmas lottery event was coming soon, so I wondered if it would be better to just wait for the Exp cards I’ll be getting from playing through said event.

Thanksgiving Banner More Multi-Draws Results

I should have been done pulling already. I mean, I already got such an awesome draw. I should really not push my luck, right? Just save my remaining resources and wait for the next banner, right? Wouldn’t it be much better to just wait for Merlin and Meltryllis and even Skadi? I already have NP3 Gil. I even got Ruler Jeanne d’Arc (#ad) and Formal Craft and Fragments of 2030. This is more than good enough already. So there should be no more pulling.

And, for a few hours, I was indeed done pulling. But then, a bit later on, I found myself thinking about pulling again. Somehow, I still felt like pulling some more. It’s nothing but a silly dream, unless a miracle happens, but I actually found myself thinking about the possibility of being able to NP5 Gilgamesh. Yeah, like I said, it’s dumb and stupid and unlikely to happen. Heck, I even started thinking about the possibility of more Servants spooking me and being able to get more great CEs like Kaleidoscope and the The Black Grail.

So I decided to go for it. Big, big mistake. I really, really, really regret this now. I really freaking wish I didn’t pull again. Really should have just saved my resources. Ugh, why’d I do this? Wish I could go back and stop myself from pulling again. Why’d I push my luck?

Things were so freaking fine. That first pull was really amazing. I should have stopped there so things could have ended on a happy note, so I could have had a happy ending. But no. Because I insisted on pulling some more, things took a sudden turn for the worse and my happy ending has now turned into a tragedy. Sigh. Eff this game and its lack of a pity system.

Anyway, here are the results of my multi-draws:

Feast your eyes on just how horrible they all are. Like this one - I didn’t even get anything new. Bleh.

Or what about this one? And I thought the last draw was bad. At least I got another copy of the 5-star CE Another Ending on that pull. In this one, I didn’t even get a single 5-star CE.

One of my multi-draws actually gave me a gold Lancer card.

I was pretty hyped when I saw it. I thought things were finally looking up. Was hoping to get a 5-star. At the very least, even if it’s a 4-star, I was hoping to get someone new. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. No SSR Servant here. Just a 4-star Servant that I already have.

Yeah, just got yet another copy of 4-star SR Lancer Elizabeth Báthory. This must be like my 3rd copy by now. I haven’t used her in a long while since I already have other better Lancers so I hadn’t even bothered to fuse the copies I already have. This latest copy is just gonna join the rest in rotting in my inventory.

And here we have another lousy draw. Argh! So frustrating. Sometimes, I really freaking hate this game. Why’d I keep pulling on this banner? Did I mention that I regret this? Ugh. Pity system when?

Aside from multi-draws, I also used up all my tickets. Not that they did me any good either. Worst freaking pulls ever. How utterly devastating. Eff this game!

Notes:

pics are from Amazon.com; links shown above

screenshots are from my Fate/Grand Order game account

#fgo #jeanne d'arc #archer gilgamesh #fate grand order #ruler jeanne #fate go #grand order #mobile games #gacha games #gacha #mobile apps #games #gilgamesh

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gingyboo · 3 years

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Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1

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Chapter 2

Bucky stared into the mirror as the reflection changed back to himself. ‘Don’t be a coward’ he said to himself. Nancy knew who he was, Nancy knew what he’d done and where he was. Maybe most importantly, Nancy was made for him, and him for her. He had to meet her, but he also had to protect her. The conflict in his mind, how could he keep her safe, war followed him everywhere he went. But to not be with her, to know her and not be together, that was unbearable.

‘’Come on ice man, we got a job to do,’’ Sam shouted outside the door to Bucky’s hotel room.

‘’I’ll be right out.’’

They were staying in Paris, following up a lead on an arms dealing ring when he’d got the message, ‘Wakanda needs you white wolf’ then an address.

The journey there was simple enough, Sam was on the phone to Torres for a long time, organising a jet to their location if required. The address as it turned out was the Wakandan outreach centre in Paris. It was a modest sized town house overlooking the Seine. They were led inside by a stoic faced man, looking to be in his late 60s, white hair stark against his dark skin. He silently brought them to a small office. Children’s faces were pressed against the banisters opposite pointing at them laughing and waving. Bucky couldn’t help but smile, waving two fingers in a salute of greeting. Their guide turned to usher them away. When they entered the room, the door closed behind.

‘’White Wolf.’’ Bucky didn’t recognise the woman behind the desk. She was tall, had long braids pulled back off her face and wore an immaculate black suit. Her face was striking yet kind, there was a deep worry line on her forehead. Bucky nodded at her and Sam introduced himself. Kitama was her name.

‘’We have a job for you, a rescue of sorts.’’

Bucky and Sam shared a quick glance between them.

Kitama continued,

‘’There is to be a kidnapping attempt on a British socialite, we need you to stop it.’’ She spun the screen in front of her round and Bucky’s heart stopped.

Nancy’s face was plastered across the screen. If anyone in the room noticed his shock, they didn’t show it.

"Nancy Cartwright is the daughter of England’s ambassador in Wakanda, she’s attending a dinner representing her father tonight, then her and some other select officials will attend the royal opera house for a ballet. Our intel tells us that is when the terrorists will take her.’’ Bucky still couldn’t speak. He couldn’t take his eyes off her picture. She wasn’t smiling, she didn’t even know the picture was being taken, her getting into the back of a black car, red dress hitched up showing her black heels, gazing back at the building she must’ve just left. Her home. ‘Go back’ he wanted to shout at the picture.

‘’What do they want with her?’’ Sam asked, Bucky was grateful he was dealing with the conversation.

"Ransom."

"Money?" Sam asked

"Not exactly, we believe they wish to force the hand of her father, to work on their behalf."

‘’Where is she, we’ll go now, we’ll get her safe.’’ Bucky thought he saw Sam’s jaw drop at his statement, but it didn’t matter, he had to find her, get her safe, and the safest place for her was right by his side.

The details were passed on in a blur, Bucky’s attention was fixed on Nancy, the royal opera house in London, Torres would get them there, Sam could survey the outside, he could get in grab her and get out, quicker the better, the rest could be sorted later.

Before he knew it he was sat opposite Sam in a stealth plane, quiet as they took off over Paris.

‘’What going on blue eyes?’’ Sam asked and was met by a stony glare. ‘’Come on, I saw your face in there, you know this kid, knew her back in Wakanda?’’

‘’She’s no kid and she’s never lived in Wakanda.’’ Bucky said without thinking.

‘’But you do know her?’’ Sam pushed.

‘’Complicated.’’

‘’Look I know you’ve got this while silent and deadly thing going on, but if there’s something I should know, you probably best to tell me, so there’s no surprises.’’

Bucky shook his head and Sam stood up to adjust his suit, stalking over to Torres. Soulmates were sacred and Bucky wasn’t ready to share that truth with anyone but Nancy right now. Sam knew something was up, he wasn’t stupid. However, he also knew when not to push Bucky.

The trip across the channel was short and Torres came over with Sam. They had to fly low and quiet, small jump to the adjacent roof and get down to the third story window. Take the bridge between the two buildings. From then Bucky would need to memorise the layout, find his way to the box and get her. Then down to the streets and blend into the busy city. Sam would find them, monitor anyone following and then Torres would pick them up for extraction. Simple. Simple up to a point.

The grandeur of the opera house surprised Bucky, the patterned carpet and large stairwells reminded him of a time long ago. Sam stayed pitched on adjacent roof, shield in hand, monitoring the CCTV footage whilst redwing scanned the surroundings.

‘’Next right Buck, should be a stairwell, you are looking for box 5, she should be there, the corridors unguarded,’’

‘’On it,’’ he took the stairs 2 at a time,

‘’ you gonna tell me what’s so special about this girl yet?’’

‘’No.’’

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Nancy lent forward in her chair as Tchaikovsky’s music swirled around her. She was enjoying this, if only because feigning great interest stopped the foreign secretary from attempting more conversation. No, she didn’t know what her father’s position was on an exclusive trade deal with Wakanda, and no she wasn’t sure when he’d be back in the country. She also didn’t need him to get her an ice cream in the interval though a strong drink might be appreciated. He swapped from treating her like his 13-year-old daughter to trying to catch a glimpse down the front of her dress. More than once she thought of Bucky, off on a mission, out their doing something for the greater good. Nancy liked helping her father, reporting back to him on the goings on at such events, feeding him information on the British perception of Wakanda. These were turbulent times, and yet she still felt nothing more than shiny ornament brought out for parties.

She felt the door opening before she heard it, a slight change in pressure within the top box. The minister didn’t notice, in fact she thought he might have dropped into sleep. She felt someone behind her, silently approaching, the hair standing straight on her neck. No one else should be in there. She swung round quickly arm raised. A metal hand caught it as a palm of flesh covered her mouth, she bit into it on instinct before seeing who it was. Bucky. Her face of fear relaxed at once and Bucky gently knelt behind her chair, the minister hadn’t so much as stirred. His breath was at her ear as he wound his right hand into hers, holding it tightly.

‘’In ten minutes, the interval starts, get up and leave the box, we have to get you out of here.’’

His voice was barely a whisper, she responded in the same tone.

‘’What’s happening?’’

‘’Shhh,’’ he breathed stroking his thumb overs hers soothingly, ‘’later.’’

And so, the sat in silence, him holding her hand and her watching the ballet. As the curtain closed and the audience clapped Bucky drew her silently to her feet and out the door.

He looped her hand through his arm and steered her down the stair well.

‘’What’s happening?’’ Nancy tried not to shout as she struggled to keep up with his long strides.

‘’The Wakandans sent us, someone’s planning to take you,’’ he pulled her close to him stroking a thumb along her cheek. She shivered gently, his eyes darted around her face ‘’I won’t let them.’’ He turned on his heel and pulled her after him.

‘’Slow down Buck... Bucky- ‘’she stood firm, ‘’James!’’ There were people milling around them now, coming out from the lower circle.

‘’ I’m prepared for this, my whole childhood, we had like practice runs, what’s the plan?’’ She held his gaze sternly. Bucky felt pain in his chest, who has to prepare to be kidnapped, what child should have to worry like that. He stalled for a moment.

‘’We go out, down to the streets, find a safe place to wait for an extraction.’’ He looked her in the eye, trying to read her feelings, she rolled her eyes.

‘’We’ll go to my house, it’s safe there.’’ She made to walk off, but Bucky’s grip on her arm stopped her.

‘’We are getting you out of the city, tonight.’’ He said firmly.

‘’Not gonna happen, there’s things I need.’’ Nancy kept trying to walk away but Bucky wouldn’t move.

‘’Nancy- ‘’

‘’No Bucky- ‘’

‘’No Nancy stop! Look at me, pretend we’re talking, laugh at something I said.’’ He pulled her easily back him. She laughed cheerfully, a sound like Christmas bells.

"Too men against the wall back there," he breathed just loud enough for her to hear. "don’t look, they’re watching you, we need to find another way, walk with me." He linked his fingers with hers and they walked slowly back towards the box, they could’ve been just another couple out to see the ballet. He was even dressed the part, black suit and shirt, he hid the metal had in his pocket.

‘’Are they following?’’ Nancy whispered. Bucky nodded his jaw clenching. ‘’I got a plan, meet me on the roof’’ she said as she pushed off him with surprising force and her hand slipped from his. She darted into the woman’s bathroom.

The queue inside was thick, woman everywhere touching up makeup, waiting for a stall, drying hands, noise and people, a good place to hide. She shimmied through the crowd, muttering apologies as she went, and found the window she was looking for. Pushing in wide It locked in its stays, shit, she thought glimpsing the fire escape she was looking for, the gap was too tight for any adult to fit through. Nancy took a moment, breathed in and out. She jumped up on the windowsill and amongst shouts from the other ladies, kicked on the window stays. Property damage, great they might not let her come back now. She slid out the window, landing on the fire escape just as the window above smashed and Bucky’s arm appeared. He soon followed, shouts following him. Nancy ran up the stairs to join him as they continued up to the roof. No easy feat in stilettos.

‘’What’s this plan then doll?’’ Bucky said turning to her as side of the building turned into the deep London sky. Nancy looked around finding her bearings.

‘’Over there, there’s a way down, comes out the other side of the stage, go down take the side door out. Hit the streets, get back to my house.’’

‘’We can’t go to your house- ‘’ Bucky’s protests were stopped short by the roof door bursting open. ‘’Ever used a gun before?’’

‘’Give us the girl!’’ A masked man shouted, he was followed by three others, behind them Bucky could hear feet pounding on the metal fire escape.

‘’No of course not.’’ Nancy replied not taking her eyes off their assailants. Bucky had his handgun drawn, Nancy hadn’t seen where it had come from, he’d been too quick.

‘’How about a knife?’’

‘’No not that either.’’

Bucky pushed her down and drew another gun, seemingly from nowhere, one pointed towards the masked men and the other back towards the fire escape where more men now emerged.

He shot first, the masked men had drawn guns as well, but they were no match for his superhuman reflexes. He aimed for hands and feet, to disarm not kill, this gave Bucky time to move Nancy towards the buildings edge. One escaped the fire though, dashing round and grabbing Nancy round the middle. Before Bucky could respond Nancy had landed a sharp elbow to his nose, stepped back, digging a heel into the top of his foot. The attackers grip loosened enough for her to break free. She grabbed his arm bending it around his back until she heard the tell-tale crunch of dislocation, then forced him into the floor with a kick to the back of the knee.

‘‘Where’d you learn that?’’ Bucky called over his shoulder as another figure approached him.

‘’I told you, I’ve done a lot of preparing.’’ She shuffled back then realised she was at the roofs edge, there were still 3 men coming toward them.

‘’Do you trust me?’’ Bucky said turning briefly towards her.

‘’Of course, I do.’’ For she did, since the moment he first spoken to him, the first time she knew what he was to her, she’d known, he will protect me, he will never let me down. I am his and he is mine. There was no thought of doubt. Although she was surprised when he pushed her. Hard in the chest and she toppled. Next she was falling and falling fast.

#bucky barnes #the winter solider #sam wilson #captain america #mcu

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smokeybrandreviews · 3 years

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Smokey brand Select: Deck the Halls

I don’t know if you can tell by my blog, but i f*cking love Christmas. It’s my absolute favorite holiday of the year. I love t more than Thanksgiving, more than Halloween, even more than my f*cking birthday and that’s a lot because I'm kind of a f*cking narcissist. I love the festivities, the decorations, the music, the objective purity of the whole season. Christmas time is the one time of year that people decide collectively to suck less. Recently, with all of the stupid conservative boycotts and soapbox rants, that less is a little less than usually but still, it’s hard not to love the Christmas season. It’s so inspirational and has inspired some fantastic films. Here's a list of some of my favorites. A lot of these, the majority of them, probably aren’t “traditional” Christmas fare but i assure you that they are, indeed, Christmas films. To say otherwise would just be disrespectful.

10. Edward Scissorhands

Tim Burton is going to be all over this list, man. Edward Scissorhands came out during a time i was incredibly infatuated with the striking visuals of Burton. I’m an Eighties kid and he kind of had his coming out party during that decade. Almost all of those films he released back then are favorites of mine. I remember seeing Scissorhands as a young kid and being absolutely mesmerized by it’s beauty. As an adult, i appreciated the underlying messaging just as much.

9. A Christmas Story

You’ll shoot your eye out! I used to hate this movie, man. It was a staple in during my elementary school Christmas parties. I never paid attention to it because, as a kid, i hated anything that wasn’t a cartoon. One day i was sick at home and caught it offseason TNT. This thing played, like, every day for some reason. I heard it was a favorite of Ted Turner but that’s just rumor. Anyway, i watched it and completely fell in love with this earnest, absurd, flick. It’s a really good watch and deserves it’s title as a classic.

8. Home Alone

Home Alone was the very first Christmas flick i remembered actually loving for being a Christmas flick. Like, when the season starts and Mariah Carey hits the airwaves, Home Alone is what i thing about. It’s the very first film that i unequivocally associate with Santa season. It’s funny because it’s not that great a film but i still love it dearly. I think that’s more because of nostalgia, though. There are fr superior films in the honorable mentions which probably deserve this spot more but Home Alone makes me genuinely smile.

7. Die Hard

I mean, how can i not put this on the list? It’s a classic. One of the best action films ever made. One of the best performances Bruce Willis has ever given. Plus, it introduces the late, great, Alan Rickman as Hans Gruber. Now, my favorite of the lot is With a Vengeance but Die Hard would be nothing without this holly jolly first entry.

6. Scrooged

One of my favorite Christmas narratives is A Christmas Carol. Dickens was a prolific writer and, among his works, the story of Ebeneezer Scrooge’s crisis of conscious is my favorite. I almost always love it when ever it makes it to screen but, for my money, the best version of this story took the form of the Eighties classic, Scrooged. It’s so Eighties in all of the ways. I love the overall narrative, the changes made t fit it into a then modern setting, and those incredible practical effects. It’s a feast for the senses while hitting all the necessary Dickens notes. Also, this version of the Ghost of Christmas Future is a whole ass nightmare. Like, f*ck, dude!

5. Trading Places

I love this movie so much, just on it’s own merits as a film. It’s so good. Eddie Murphy is excellent in this film and Dan Akroyd is just as brilliant. Jamie Lee Curtis was incredibly hilarious, too. This was the second thing i had ever seen her in, after Halloween so, you know, going from that to this really caught my attention. Trading Places is a classic and should be seen by everyone.

4. Gremlins

Gremlins is just generally one of my favorite films. I love this f*cked up movie, man. It’s SO good and this version is the tone down one. The original vision for this movie was just an R rated murder fest. I mean, the one we got wasn’t a joke wither It’s the reason we have the PG-3 rating. SH*t is just that violent Now, juxtapose all of this little green monstrosity anarchy against a dreamy white Christmas and you have all the makings of worming your way into my heart. Honestly, i prefer the gremlin shenanigans from the sequel, Mohawk is my favorite, but Stripe definitely left an impression.

3. The Long Kiss Goodnight

I had a massive crush on Geena Davis when was young. Can’t tell you why, but i was absolutely infatuated with the chick after i saw her in The Fly remake. I followed her career afterwards. She dropped several gems along the way, Beetlejuice, Thelma and Louise, Earth Girls are Easy, A League of their Own, but my absolute favorite film of hers is definitely The Long Kiss Goodnight. This thing is peak Nineties action excess. Shane Black in his prime. Die Hard III but John McCLane is a hot ass amazon woman who can beat you to death with her mitts. It even has Sam Jackson as a smart-mouthed side kick! I love it!

2c. A Charlie Brown Christmas

I adore Charlie Brown. If Spider-Man, Godzilla, and Transformers are the foundations of my childhood, Snoopy is foundation adjacent. My Paternal grandma had all of the Peanuts films and i would watch them on repeat when we were forced to go over there. I say forced because she was kind of terrible and none of us really wanted to visit her ever but, when we did, and she wasn’t trying to exploit our labor or feed us rotten food, we did get to watch dope classic sh*t. She owned every Disney movie from the Renaissance and every Peanuts special on VHS. I hated visiting that woman but i loved those Charlie Brown adventures so kind of bittersweet memories.

2b. How the Grinch Stole Christmas

This one is associated with my other grandma, the one i actually liked. We used to sit down every year and watch this one together while sipping egg nog. Man, it’s hard for me to type this out. It breaks my heart remembering those times so I'm going to stop. I just really love How The Grinch Stole Christmas. It’s very, very, special to me.

2a. The Nutcracker

The Nutcracker is in the same situation as How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I have a lot of love for this thing, in ll forms, but the one i remember so vividly is the opera they used to show every season. My grandma really loved opera and orchestral music. I miss her.

1b. Batman Returns

I told you Burton was going to be all over this thing. Bro, how can this thing not be on the top of this list? Batman Returns left a real impression, man. Michelle Pfiefer’s Catwoman did things to me that would have reverberating effects through the rest of my life! She is, more than any other reason, why i have an unhealthy infatuation for crazy chicks. Also Nancy Downs but The Craft isn’t a Christmas movie. Outside of the way that patent leather catsuit ruined me for normal relationships, Batman Returns is just a force of f*cking nature. It’s Pure Tim Burton and i adore that man’s eye. He is one of my favorite creators and Batman is one of my favorite heroes. How can this thing not make my list? Batman Returns couldn’t take the number two spot, mostly because it jockeys for position with Nightmare pretty actively. I love them both so much, it’s hard to give the number one spot to either of them so, you know, split the difference.

1a. The Nightmare Before Christmas

This is Halloween! I remember being so hype about this movie. Nine year old Smokey was super into this film and that love carries through to this day. Every time it airs, i catch it or, at least, i used to when i had television. I saw this thing day one in theaters, made my mom buy the VHS, it was one of the very first DVDs i ever purchased with my own money, and was the third Blue ray i got after picking up my PS3. The wild thing is, it’s not just me either. Nightmare has become a pinnacle of the cultural zeitgeist. This thing is all over the place. People get tattoos of Jack. Halloween Town even made it into a few Kingdom Hearts games and it wasn’t even a Disney movie at first! It was banished to the subsidiary of Touchstone when it first released because the Mouse House didn’t believe in it! Talk about a miscalculations.

Honorable Mentions: Tokyo Godfathers, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Bad Santa, Elf, Carol, Anna and the Apocalypse

#Smokey brand Select #Christmas movies #Christmas #Tis the season #Happy Holidays

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stories-sometimes · 4 years

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I’ve Made A Huge Mistake {5/?}

Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friends.But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: Violence in later chapters, manipulation, age gap

Word Count: 2418

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

They pulled up to their hotel in Prague, a vast improvement from the run-down one in Italy. It was the image of luxury, near to the city centre, built-in some historic-looking building. Two doormen opened the gold-framed doors. All the students looked around in awe at the huge marble room. A pianist played, gently adding to the high-class atmosphere.

“This is absolutely insane.” She said, admiring the detailed granite tiles.

“Speak for yourself, I’m home.” Flash said arrogantly.

“What can I say, the squeaky wheel gets the grease.” Mr Harrington said in response to everyone’s amazed reaction. “Everyone get settled in, rested up,” he continued, “cause tonight, big surprise, the Carnival of Lights.” He exclaimed. As Mr Harrigton continued Peter felt his phone vibrate, he pulled it out to see Maria Hill’s name flashing over the screen of his phone. While Peter stepped away from the group, she noticed MJ’s intense stare from the corner of her eye. The jealousy bubbled slightly in the pit of her stomach. You don’t like him like that, she reminded herself, he’s your best friend. She attempted to drown out the feeling, instead trying to tune into Mr Harrington’s ramblings about the night’s carnival.

“Hello.” Peter answered.

“Parker it’s Hill,” The agent spoke across the phone, “there’s an earpiece in your suit, put it on and await further instruction, understood.”

“Um, yes ma’am,” Peter replied nervously. Peter stared at all the people who were in danger, who had been dragged into a mess he now had to solve.

An hour or so later he found himself with Fury, Hill and Beck, reciting the plan that had just been drilled into his head.

“I will be in the cathedral tower, keeping watch for the fire monster. When that shows up I will radio you guys. And then Mr Beck and I’ll -”

“My name is Mysterio.” The man said firmly, giving Peter a reassuring look, making the younger man smile. “Look, our only hope of finishing this is stopping the elemental now. We can try to draw it away from civilians but the most important thing is to keep it away from metal. It’ll get too powerful, then there’ll be no hope for us.” Beck instructed.

“I’m just worried, that me being here is putting my friend’s in danger and -”

“You’re worried about us putting your friends in danger,” Fury shouted from across the room, “You who set a drone strike on your own trip. Stark gave you this responsibility,” Fury poked harshly at the glasses hanging on his shirt, “But it’s clear to me that you are not ready for this.” Peter looked down guiltily, quickly excusing himself from the briefing room. He made his way up to the hotel roof, staring over the city destined for a disaster. He was only alone for about ten minutes before Beck came floating up to console him.

“How you feeling?” Beck asked, sitting down on the ledge beside Peter.

“I just didn’t expect to have to save the world this summer. I know it makes me sound like a jerk but -”

“You’re not a jerk for wanting a normal life kid. You're a good kid. There's a part of me that wants to tell you to just turn around, run away from all this. And then, there's another part of me that knows what we're about to fight. What's at stake. And I'm glad you're here. You’ve got these skills, these talents and I’d be honoured if you do decide to help me.”

“I want to help, I’m just worried about my friends.”

“I get that, just keep them inside, in a safe place while we save the day. You know there’s some opera on tonight, everyone will be at the carnival so it’ll be empty.” Beck suggested.

“Yeah, I’m sure they’d love that.” Peter said sarcastically, but still appreciative of his idea.

So that’s how Peter found himself entering an opera house as the rest of the trip complained about missing out on the biggest party of the year, with only his two best friends aiding him in support of the idea. The situation was definitely improved by the fact Peter got to admire her in the emerald, satin dress she wore.

“You look really pretty by the way.” He whispered to her, loving the way she blushed lightly. It was always his favourite sight.

“Thanks, you too. Um, you also look pretty.” She mumbled back. You’re just friends, she repeated to herself again. But it was a harder and harder thought to believe. She was confused, to say the least, and her growing feelings for Beck only made it more difficult to comprehend. “I’m gonna go to our seat, I hope you can stick around for a bit.” She beamed, punching him lightly on the arm before inwardly cringing at her actions. Smooth, really. She walked away, smiling over her shoulder at the boy, feeling the longing gaze. Soon she spotted MJ and moved into the empty seat beside her.

“You guys are weird,” MJ said immediately after she sat down.

“Really, you wanna call me weird when they’re sitting right there.” She said, pointing to Ned and Betty, both gushing over each other as they shared a set of opera glasses.

“Yeah,” MJ replied bluntly, “especially Peter, don’t tell me you don’t notice him disappearing all the time. You’ve got to find that suspicious.” She panicked, trying to come up with some excuse to cover Peter’s ass.

“He just gets anxious, has to be alone sometimes to calm down.” She lied.

“Yeah, but there’s removing yourself from a situation and then there’s disappearing for hours at a time. Look he’s leaving right now.” She turned, following MJ’s stare to see Peter rushing at the hall. She was disappointed. Although she knew his duties took priority over this, she couldn’t help feel let down by missing out on a night with her best friend. “Come on, let’s see where he goes.” She glared at MJ as the girl started to get up out of her seat.

“MJ, sit down we can’t leave.” She tried to drag MJ back into her seat.

“Why not, Peter’s allowed to.”

“He’s having a bad day, he told me he’s just going back to the hotel.”

“Then we’ll be good friends and comfort him.” MJ pulled out of the other girl’s grip.

“Brad will be heart-broken.” She nodded to the boy MJ had been flirting on and off with all trip.

“He’ll live. Look, you can come with me or stay here and bore yourself to death. And if Peter’s fine, then we’re ditching him to go to the carnival.” Knowing there was no stopping MJ, she joined her in sneaking out of the theatre. She could at least keep her away from the city centre. Not long after the two girls left, Ned found himself in a similar predicament, getting dragged out by his girlfriend.

Despite all of her protests and best efforts to avoid it, she managed to find herself nearing the carnival. Finding Peter’s hotel room empty only boosted MJ’s curiosity and ended with her basically carrying her friend to the party. The streets were filled with lights and colour, market stools stocked with an array of foods and gifts. Not a minute went by without a string of fireworks going off in the sky. Rides sat at every corner of every plaza, all lit up with strings of LED lights. She had to admit it would have been one of the magical experiences of her life if it wasn’t for the looming threat of another attack. The huge crowds of people all in imminent danger. And the top of a clocktower hid Peter, wearing his new, all-black suit, awaiting the arrival of the final elemental.

“How’s the suit?” Fury asked once everyone was in position.

“Um, it’s great, a little tight around the old web-shooter.” Peter joked, Fury’s eye roll was so clear Peter could practically hear it.

“Parker.”

“Okay, I’ll shut up.”

The two girls were wandering around, weaving through the crowds.

“MJ, we should head back before anyone notices we’re gone.” She said, tugging on MJ’s arm as though she was some little kid.

“I just wanna find what Peter’s up to, then we can do whatever you want.”

“God, you’re acting like some stalker.”

“He’s disappeared too many times for there to be a simple explanation. Surely you want to find out what he’s been hiding.”

“MJ, I’m fucking serious we have to get back.” She noticed steam rising from a nearby fountain and knew the elemental was going to strike at any moment.

“What the hell.” MJ had spotted it too, and stepped towards it. The ground split beneath their feet, lava seeping through the cracks, sliding up the statue above the fountain.

“MJ, we need to get -” Before she could finish her sentence the elemental had formed, sending the surrounding concrete flying out in all directions. She grabbed onto MJ’s hand and sprinted as fast as they could in the opposite direction. Panic ensued around them, the girls found a smaller alleyway to hide down.

“Okay, he’s here.” Peter rushed out as soon as the chaos began. “Beck, are you ready?”

“On your lead Spiderman.” Beck flew towards the centre, watching the elemental smashing down on its metal surroundings to gain more power. Beck landed, green dust clouding around him as he summoned his signature green triangles over his hands. Whilst Beck had the attention of the elemental, Peter swung down, smashing a pile of wood over its head to immobilise it for a second, giving Beck the opportunity to start firing at the elemental. Peter shot a web out at a fire hydrant, pulling it out of the ground to allow the water to spray out at the fire monster. The thing punched the wall Peter was stuck to, sending him flying into the base of the ferris wheel. Before he could do anything it had gotten to a carousel, and Peter was forced to watch it suddenly grow in size.

“Night monkey, night monkey help us.” Peter heard a familiar voice cry as he stood back up. He looked up to see Ned and Betty trapped, calling out for some unknown person. Ned stared down, giving Peter a look as to say ‘just go with it’.

“Oh no, no, no.” His friends in danger - his worst nightmare. The elemental came charging towards him, all of his webs were burned as soon as he tried to do anything to directly stop the monster. A mere second before it could strike Peter and the wheel, Beck threw up a force field, preventing any harm. But he couldn’t hold it for very long. Each hit sent sparks down into the heroes’ faces.

“We’ve gotta hit him with something he can’t absorb.”

“You go left, I’ll go right.” They nodded briefly before Beck sent to force field outwards, pushing the elemental outwards. Beck flew up into the air, leaving Peter to swing toward the tallest building in the plaza. He ran up the wall, successfully distracting it for long enough for Beck to get to a better, higher position. Before the elemental could hit him, Peter flipped off the building, shooting a web onto a piece of rumble, flinging it into the monster. This gave Beck the opportunity to attack the elemental. “That hurt him, keep going.” Beck instructed. Peter repeatedly picked up and threw pieces of concrete rumble. But that didn’t hold it off for too long. Soon it had smashed a fist into the ground, sending a line of fire to the ferris wheel, knocking the wheel off its hinge. The screams of Peter’s friends filled the air. Peter went to shoot a web to help them, only to find it not connecting to the actual wheel, instead to some invisible force. He tried to pull his web back in only to find it flying away with some unknown piece of debris attached. It landed in the alleyway the two girls were hiding in.

“What the fuck,” MJ said as she picked it up, “These are Spiderman’s webs.” She stated.

“It can’t be, he’s a friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, he works in New York.” The other girl tried to reason.

“He was in Washington, maybe he likes to travel.” MJ shoved the object into her pocket.

Peter pushed the curiosity out of head and turned to focus on saving his friends. He webbed up to where Ned and Betty were trapped.

“Whatever happens, I’m glad we met.” Beck said to Peter.

“Beck, what are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done last time.” Beck began to absorb a swarm of energy, building it up before flying into the centre of the monster. The fire was replaced with the green of Beck’s powers, causing it to explode with a blast of energy. Peter swung down to help an injured Beck up. Before he knew it, his best friend was running out of her hiding space, flinging her arms around Beck. He gripped onto her instinctively, holding on to her for dear life.

“What are you doing here?”

“MJ’s too stubborn for her own good.” She laughed. “Thank god you’re alright. You saved everyone, what are you gonna do now hero?”

“This.” He said, leaning down to kiss her. She was surprised at his boldness at first, but quickly allowed him to deepen it as he shamelessly shoved his tongue into her mouth. It was passionate and messy, a rush of all their built up emotions. It was as though everyone else had disappeared, Peter and MJ were gone, Fury’s car pulling up didn’t exist - it was just the two of them. It carried on like that until they heard a loud cough from Fury. They broke apart, still remaining in each other’s arms. She flushed, giggled nervously at everyone’s stares.

“That the last of them?” Fury asked. Beck nodded. “But that won’t be the last threat, Hill and I are attending the headquarters in Berlin tomorrow, you should join us.”

“I’d be honoured.” Beck stepped away from her to shake Fury’s hand. “I’m taking you out tonight.” He turned to point at her, she agreed eagerly. “I’ll pick you up at 10. And you Spiderman, need to come with me, celebrate before my date.”

“I’m not 21.” Was all Peter could come up with.

Peter had watched the interaction from afar, his heart breaking every second. He now truly believed he had no chance.

Taglist Open:

@cool-ontherun-world

@eleventhdoctorsangel

@chubby-tink

@eridanuswave

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x original character #quentin beck #quentin beck x you #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #mysterio x reader #mysterio imagine #mysterio #marvel #marvel fic #spiderman #spiderman far from home

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 104

104

The Blades had no patience, and Keith’s had run fresh out. He was yet to read his mother’s letter, but she’d given him space and hadn’t tried butting in on his life, so for that he was grateful. He was finally allowed back at work, “on light duties”, meaning he was playing desk jockey and doing more of the planning towards missions. He’d liked to say he enjoyed himself, but paperwork sucked and Lance was too busy with Lotor to do much. Though. He had done one crucial thing. Coming to meet Keith after “training” with Lotor, and his generals, his boyfriend had kind of been too full of energy to sit still. Keith did not enjoy the way Lance talked about the thing he talked with Lotor, despite the fact his boyfriend was being open and honest with him. Four sessions with Lotor and Keith wanted to skin the vampire alive for spending so much time his Lance. Lance hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t off having some illicit affair with Lotor. Their training was filmed, Keith could even watch if he wished, but the whole thing filled him some ugly growth that sat in a lump in his chest thanks to it. Lance had decided after the third two-hour session that Lotor had given him enough tips to practice at home, the fourth session being the last over the ten day period. Lance declaring it happily as he threw the briefing room door open bounding in. Hyperactive and handsy, his boyfriend threw himself on him, Keith smiling like a moron as Lance nuzzled into him, pressing kisses to his cheek. The news couldn’t have come sooner as his boyfriend kissed his cheek then dashed off to check in with Allura and let her know the good news... leaving Keith to realise he had no idea where he’d been in the stack of purchase orders before him.

Being a desk jockey came with perks, that he was fully taking advantage of. Without being awake at obscene hours, he was able to talk with their friends more, instead of Lance and Pidge alone, due to her insomniac ways. Plus, he’d been going back to Lance’s for the night when his boyfriend had to make the drive back the following morning. Lance was welcome to crash at the apartment, yet his lover wanted to work through the things he’d done with Lotor in their training sessions in the yard where it didn’t matter if the grass was pulled up or things broken. Lotor thought Lance was wasting his potential, but Lance stuck to being as human as possible, meaning Lotor had to fall in line with him.

That’s how he ended up on a double date after that fourth training session. A double date was something he’d never actually ever believed he’d have to suffer through. A double date he could have probably handled, maybe, had the other couple not been Allura and Lotor. Seeing he was busy with paperwork, Lance had gone to catch up with Allura, then the next thing he knew, for some unfathomable reason, that had turned from hanging out into “Hey, let Shiro know you’ll be out tonight because we’re going out with Allura and Lotor”. His boyfriend wasn’t on the ”Team Lotor” bandwagon, he was on the “If Lotor touches Allura or looks at her the wrong way, I’m going to castrate him” team.

And god if it wasn’t the most awkward five hours of his life for the month. Relying on Lance to help him piss after the accident didn’t come close to how awkward an evening with Lotor was. Opera. Keith did not do opera. He wasn’t completely sure he understood why the main character suddenly regained her strength to then go and drop dead. Lance and Allura clutched each other as they cried over her tragic demise... and for some reason the opera kept going! What was this fresh hell?!. Lotor seemed vaguely bored, and Keith had spent most of the time making silent bets with himself over how long he could his breath. He couldn’t use his phone, the screen would be glaringly obvious in the blackness of the theatre. Fuck it. He needed the bathroom and doubted he’d be missed. Allura was holding hands with Lotor, not like how Keith was holding Lance’s hand in his lap, thumb rubbing the back, enjoying the touch and that alone, but like holding hands all the same.

Turning towards to Lance, he nudged him with his knee, Lance raised his head to smile at him. His boyfriend was so damn pretty. Okay. Maybe they were a little loved up. Lifting their hands, Lance kissed the back of his. Keith enjoying that much more than what was happening on the stage. Bumping Keith with his knee, Lance gestured with his chin

“I need to use the bathroom, babe”

“Oh, sure. Me too, actually”

Thank god. English conversation with no singing. He was amazed by the skills and that production it’s self, but the issue came from the fact he didn’t speak Italian, and the story writer had no clue how to write.

Finding himself following Lance to the theatre bathroom, Keith was clueless. Lance walking over and waving his hand under the tap sensor. There was something familiar about the two of them hiding in bathrooms

“Why am I here?”

Here, as in, “Why the hell were they being tortured slowly?!”

“So Allura and Lotor could have a moment”

How did they need to be there to... never mind. They were being good friends

“You could have saved me sooner. Do you actually have to pee? Or are we just staying here until Allura and Lotor have had their moment”

It was kind of hard to have a moment at the opera. Keith’s arse was numb and his leg stiff. A headache was building in his temple... ugh. Nope. Opera was not for him.

“I was trying to make Allura feel less self conscious about us being there. She was so nervous about tonight. I couldn’t say no to her”

Lance did that... Took care of everyone. Fine. He’d forgive him this time

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“She can handle herself... but at the moment, I’m more concerned about you. I’m sorry I decided for us both. I know you don’t like him”

“It’s fine. You’re being a good friend”

“It’s not really. This isn’t really us. I much prefer you, us, in our pyjamas, mocking horror films”

Lance said that, but he deserved more

“Babe, I don’t know how to do fancy... If I... If you want to do fancy... I mean, I can try”

Lance must have reassured him so many damn times over him not being rich and smart.

“I know, but... I also love the real you. Pidge hates the opera too. Colleen tells her she’s a disgrace to her Italian heritage. But Hunk’s pretty cool about coming with me. You... don’t mind, do you? I mean, I haven’t been in a long time....”

Now Lance was rambling. Rambling and playing with the tap sensor like he could trick it

“It’s fine. Are you okay? You were crying pretty hard when she snuffed it”

His boyfriend snorted, shaking off his wet hands and before wiping his face to rid himself of the tear tracks. Smiling at him in the mirror

“Yeah. You know me and tragic love stories”

“I don’t think I got it. I mean. She died and they kept singing”

“It’s alright. Nah, I’m okay. Just wanted to give Allura and Lotor a moment, and kind of wanted a moment to check in with you... this bathroom’s pretty nice”

It was a bathroom. All grey marble and matt gold. What did it matter as long as it did it’s purpose

“I suppose so?”

Lance snorted. His boyfriend letting his old man show

“I can take the hunter out of the practical, but I can’t take the practical out of the hunter”

“If you say so. How long are we supposed to wait for this moment to be over?”

“I don’t know. Like 5 minutes. Allura was super nervous. Lotor burned her in the past and she definitely hasn’t forgiven him”

“Couldn’t she just work him for the information?”

“She could, but she’s got to protect herself too. She’s fae, and there isn’t that many of them left these days”

“I feel like she could take Lotor”

“Yeah. But then there’s Honerva and Lotor’s generals to think about. I don’t like Narti. Acxa seems okay. I saw her talking to Krolia”

“Maybe she’s planning on jumping ship”

“I’d jump ship too. I swear I’ve never had to tell someone “No” as many times as I’ve told Lotor no over using ego”

“I can’t believe that I can’t believe he brought us to the opera”

“I can. At least I won’t have to see him for a bit after this”

Crossing his arms, Keith kicked the marble floor with the tip of his shoe

“He can fuck off”

Laughing softly, Lance came over to him, wrapping his arms around him. His boyfriend smelt like soap and spilt alcohol. Lotor had gotten them champagne delivered to the private box they were being tortured in, he’d offered Lance blood to add to his, yet his boyfriend wisely declined

“I know you’re not happy about it. But, I think I have a plan to turn back next time I’m a bat... I can’t say for sure though”

“You didn’t tell me you figured that out”

“I said “I think”, Babe. Anyway, you know I know you haven’t had a fun time lately... so I was thinking after this, we grab some pizza and go watch the stars”

“Why are you always trying to bribe me with pizza?”

“Because I’m a pizza kind of man, and your kind of man”

“I fail to see the logic... but that sounds so much better than heading back with them. I want to burn his stupid limo”

Lance kissed his hair

“You only get to burn it if I get to douse it first”

Keith shoved Lance off playfully, he couldn’t keep the laughter out his tone

“I’m shocked! What happened to my sweet law abiding boyfriend?”

Lance was so cute when he scrunched his face up with laugher

“He fell head over heels for a bad boy...”

“Are you saying I’m the bad influence?”

Wiping small tears from his eyes, Lance hugged himself tightly with his right arm as he nodded

“Oh, totally. Matt says I’m completely unbearable when you’re not around. All I do is mope and long for you”

“Matt met you after you met me”

“I know. He smacked me with a pillow last night and sent me to bed too, reminding me I’d be here today... like I could forget”

Keith reached out, grabbing Lance by the arse to pull him close, his boyfriend automatically looping his arms over his shoulders, laughter turned unexpectedly serious as Lance rubbed his forehead against Keith’s. He loved this man so damn much... the hunter hated that sometimes he couldn’t help but need him to tell him that

“You really miss me that much?”

“Babe, I miss all of you like all of the time. Literally the best thing about getting up early to come to Platt is seeing you”

“So you don’t come to Platt just for the opera?”

“Nope. You really don’t like the opera, do you?”

Keith shook his head. Sitting in the dark, with the only light coming from the lights on the steps and stage, he could easily picture vampires feeding in secret. Maybe they should have had a vampire kill the lead, it would have been exciting then

“Not at all... But I kind of feel it’s very vampirey”

Lance replied, overly heavy on the sarcasm

“Yeah, babe. Completely vampirey. Like, didn’t you, the opera is in our blood. Why do you think the theatre is dressed in red velvets? To hide the blood, obviously! We’re drawn to it, seeking out our next hit. I don’t really go back to Garrison... oof!”

Stepping on Lance’s foot, his boyfriend shut up. Lance didn’t to rub it in that he was way smarter than him

“I get it. I’m uncultured”

Lance nuzzled into him, sensing his teasing had dropped his mood further

“Other than stomping on innocent feet, you’re cultured enough. Seriously though. Allura never said opera. She said dinner. And I was like, we can do dinner... And now I’m like “Please God, let Coran call with some emergency””

“Hey, you’re the one who’s suddenly friends with Lotor”

“No I’m definitely not. Nope. He taught me some stuff, mostly about vampire culture and it’s whack. He keeps going on about ego and quintessence and I can do more things if I tried. I got a stitch last night thinking about having to train today. I seriously threw up last time”

He didn’t know about that. Lance shouldn’t be pushing himself that far. How had his boyfriend had time to come from practice to him, with a stop to throw his guts up and brush his teeth on the way?

“My poor baby... Did you miss your big bad boyfriend?”

Lance whined at him softly, nuzzling into him as he did

“Yes, give me sympathy. Seriously. I’m thinking of stealing his phone and finding a way to lure Sendak back to pick his brat arse up”

“Tell me about it. They’re off raiding a place tonight. I had to do the stupid paperwork. I don’t know why. Kolivan comes and takes it, then that’s that”

“I’m sorry you’re still benched”

“Nah. I’ve got something to do with my time...”

“Do you think if we’re good tonight, Lotor will finally help?”

“I think you’re more delusional than me... someone’s coming. We should head back”

“Nooooo...”

He was happy hiding here!

“Now who’s the baby. I’ll buy you an ice cream if the confection stand is still open”

“Lactose”

“Fuck. Fine. If the opera isn’t over, then I’ll call Coran and beg him for a pick up”

“We need an excuse to leave”

“Then I guess I’ve finally found a reason for you deciding you needed to be banged up”

“I think I can support that. Those seats aren’t comfortable”

They didn’t need an excuse. The opera had ended, people milling into the theatre’s entrance hall. Leading Allura along, Lotor made his was through the crowd and over to the pair of them

“We thought you’d left”

His tone was cold, like they’d disappointed him by not

“I’ve got a headache and Keith’s stiff from those chairs”

Allura immediately took the reason as her chance to let go of Lotor’s hand. Moving to Lance, she placed her hand on his forehead

“You do feel warmer than usual. Perhaps we should head back for the night?”

Lance played along

“I don’t want to ruin your evening”

“Nonsense. You’ve been pushing yourself again. I’m sorry, Lotor. We really should head back. Lance may be going into heat again”

Lotor scoffed

“I doubt it. Yet, in any case, we shall return if that is what you wish”

Wanker. Keith tugged Lance up against him. He was supposed to be their excuse to leave, being a weak and lowly human. Not Lance. Lance was good about it. Their prayers silently answered

“I think it’s for the best. I really am sorry to interrupt your night”

“Nonsense. Your health is more important than dinner. You’re both very important to me”

So was escaping Lotor apparently. Unpleased, and outvoted, Lotor swallowed down his snark, though made it very clear he was unhappy as he swept ahead of them. Allura not disappointed at all as she winked at them. Hopefully this wouldn’t bite them in the arse.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

The Colour of Our Voices [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 4.5 OR Chapter 5

➜ Words: 4.9k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

Your breath is held in your throat. The phone rings. It continues, the ringback tone dragging on and on like a terrible song of suspense. Then, it stops. Your breath catches in your throat. There’s a crisp voice on the other end. “Ya-llow?” “Hi.” You swallow hard, trying to collect your wits, but it takes too long. “Hello?” “Yes, s-sorry. Hi. My name is Y/N L/N. I was wondering if you guys were having any auditions to take clients in—” “Sorry, we’re not. Have a nice day!” You’re hung up on, not like an unwanted telemarketer trying to make their living. But there’s nothing you can do, so with a sigh, you continue down the list of agents. Most of them don’t pick up. You leave voice messages that go unanswered, exactly like the emails you frequently send. Though occasionally, it picks up and it’s not just an automated voice. “Please stop calling us!” The woman hisses on the other line. “We only take referrals.” You’ve brought it up to the director again. But his brows always scrunch and he wears that visibly annoyed expression, giving an exaggerated sigh of feigned exhaustion. “Y/N, I told you what I told you. If you keep insisting on this matter, then I’ll have no choice but to be upset. No one likes it when they’re not being heard.” And that’s the kinder version. You’re spared on the speech that you need to work harder, that you’re not ready to be on actual Broadway, that you have a long way to go, that you need to be good as an intern first — like Jimin. Of course, he would mention Jimin. You don’t doubt that he has some kind of star quality that you don’t have. Everyone seems to love him. He could probably get a referral if he asked. Or get an agent who would want to sign him within a day. Your envy is boundless. “Okay, can you tilt your head a thirty degrees to the left?” “Ummm…” The brunette tries to follow the instructions. “Is this thirty degrees?” “It’s fine,” Namjoon mutters and puts an eye to the viewfinder. He snaps the shot on his Canon. The picture appears on the big screen seconds later. You muse that Jimin looks great with professional lighting and under the touch of a talented photographer. “Okay, now smile.” Instantly, Jimin gives a toothy grin. His plump lips spread into his rounded cheeks, eyes crinkling into half-moons. He’s overwhelmingly cute and you feel your heart stutter in your chest. Even Namjoon hums in satisfaction, turning his camera and snapping more pictures. After a moment, a break is called and Jimin comes hopping over while Namjoon fiddles with his device. “What do you think?” “Yeah, it’s good.” He leans over to the screen, unknowingly close to you, almost hovering over your body. The strands of his hair brush on your forehead as he looks over at the monitor. “You think I should put powder on?” “No, you’re fine. It’s fine,” you correct and clear your throat. “You’re supposed to be yourself. No glamour shots. The casting directors want headshots that look like you. If you come in drastically different, it’ll hurt you in the long run.” He hums and tilts to stare at you. “Thanks for showing me such a great photographer, Y/N.” You smile. “Just take it as a lesson on how to get onto Broadway. Plus, it’s not me who’s taking the photos.” “That’s right,” Namjoon pipes up and approaches, interrupting the two-way conversation. “You need someone who can capture your personality in two hours. It’s not such an easy thing.” “Thank you for blessing us with your talent, Namjoon,” you tease. “You’re welcome.” The photographer chuckles. “I’m just kidding. I’m happy to help. It’s not often that Y/N calls me up for a favour, and she’s certainly never. ever. brought anyone to my studio before, so of course I had to see who it was.” He eyes Jimin up and down as if choosing produce in the grocery store. “I can see it now. I can see the appea—” You bump into his shoulder roughly. “Alright, I think we get it.” “A friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine,” he says. Jimin dips his head in gratitude. “I’ll entrust all my headshots to you then.” Namjoon laughs, delighted from the recognition. “I’ll be leaving town for a few months on business excursions, but when I’m back, you bet. Let’s get a few more done, Jimin. I think we should take outdoor shots too to get that natural lighting.” “You got it, boss.” You watch them walk off, practically kissing each other’s asses. Then you turn back to the monitor, looking at all the photographs again. If you were a director looking at these headshots, Jimin would most certainly get the role. // It’s a streak of luck that your phone rings. Usually, you’re the one dialing. Though this time, it’s not an agent who wants to connect with you — but it’s just as good. “Hello, Ms. Y/N? You recently submitted an application for the role of a town girl in the production of Beauty and the Beast. We’re interested in speaking to you about it further. Would you like to come in for a formal audition?” You could sob from unadulterated relief and happiness. But as overjoyed as you are, you don’t tell anyone just in case. You never know what could happen, and you don’t want to place others in an awkward situation if you end up with a disappointing outcome. So you brace yourself. But Jimin can tell something great happened — your smile is infectious. “Is everything alright?” He starts laughing when your giggles spill. Your face hurts from your grin. Even the director was taken back earlier at your newfound enthusiasm to take the morning coffee order. “Oh, just you know, life. Sometimes things work out, huh?” “Alright then, silly girl.” His eyes soften and his smile becomes gentle. Jimin steals another glance at you again. You’re humming, uncaring that the two of you are carrying over thirty coffee drinks on a brisk Monday morning, and that you’ll have to walk down three flights of stairs to hand them out. “You know, you look really...nice happy. I mean you usually look nice, but when you’re happy, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying….never mind.” Your cheeks become warm and you take a glimpse of Jimin. At the same time, he takes another glance and you both divert your vision after your eyes accidentally connect. “Um...thanks.” Jimin’s distracted. Clumsy. He nearly trips off the curb of the sidewalk. But when he catches himself, he quickly rushes over to open the door for you. You try your best to hold back your laughter. For the next few days, you practice your part by yourself, singing it over and over again, watching your own expressions in the mirror. You practice for the audition enough to become confident in your role, excited even. If you make it, you wonder what Jimin would say. He’s the only person who would celebrate with you. He’s also the only person you would want to tell. Once the afternoon of the audition arrives, you excuse yourself, telling Jimin that it’s a dentist appointment. But instead, you sneak from the basement of the building to the second floor, down the west wing. There, it’s a whole other world. The room is full of strangers, pacing around, holding the paper with their lyrics, but shutting their eyes to belt. They’re all warming up, melodic notes that sound jarring when it’s overlapping one another. Still, there are beautiful folks dressed in extravagant clothing, having probably spent time at the spa to get facials and get salon blowouts. It’s clear that many have bold personalities. That they’re not scared of eye contact. You tug on your shrunken sweater, palms clammy. You take a seat in the corner of the room in the uncomfortable chair. The girl next to you gulps down her lemon water and leans over. “Intimidating, huh?” “P-Pardon?” “I was just saying how intimidating this all is.” She scans the premise and meets your eyes. “But it’s all for show. To make up for their lack of talent. You don’t need to flaunt your skills in front of other people if you know you’re good.” You relax, giving a polite smile. “I agree.” “I’m Yeonjeon.” She stretches out her hand. “Y/N.” You shake it. “Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” The young lady oozes with the confidence you wish you had. She’s stunning, bright eyed and pretty smile. “What role are you auditioning for?” “Oh, just a townswoman.” “Really?” Yeonjeon cocks a brow. “I thought you would try out for Belle. I’m trying out for Belle. My agent called me about this casting call and I thought I would give it a try. I’ve always liked Beauty and the Beast as a kid.” “Good luck then.” She thanks you and just then, another auditionee exits the room and the woman holding the clipboard calls her name. Yeonjeon nods and gathers her belongings, casting one glance at you before leaving. “Hopefully we’ll be able to work together, Y/N.” You wish her luck once more before watching her go off. Afterwards, you shut your eyes to try to calm your nerves, hiding your trembling hands and humming to warm your throat. How many times have you been called back for a casting call like this? Not often. And you’ve never been called again to actually get the role. It was easier back in community theater. They’d find a place for everyone who wanted one. It didn’t matter that you weren’t bold, loud, glamorous, charismatic... You’re shocked out of your thoughts when you’re jolted, someone beside you poking your arm. “Are you, Y/N?” “L/N Y/N.” The lady calls and you stand straight up, so quickly that you pull a muscle in your calf and the bag that was in your lap was now on the ground. The lady sighs. “Come right this way.” “S-sorry, sorry.” You shuffle past the crowd to enter the large room after grabbing your bag again. It’s a bigger room than you expected and a lot more people. It’s spacious with just a long stretched table facing the empty floor and exhausted faces sitting behind it. They stare back at you, unfamiliar as they judge you from head to toe, from your demeanor to how your hair is. It’s the director, the music director, the casting director, two producers and a reader — six of them slumped in their chairs, bored. You swallow hard, approaching the center of the room where the masking tape is on the floor. “Do you have a headshot and resume?” “Y-yes, sorry.” You dig inside your bag, finding the papers wrinkled. You cuss inside your head and as you try organizing them, you accidentally trip on the carpet. Luckily, you don’t fall, but the papers go flying, coating the floor in white. You mumble more apologies, picking them up to hand them out. Your head is dipped, cheeks warm. It’s only been five seconds, but it was already going badly. “Can you introduce yourself?” one of them asks in annoyance when the silence stretches for too long. “Y-yes, sorry. My name is Y/N. I have experience in working in community theater, both on stage and behind. Currently, I’m working as an intern at the production of Phantom of the O-Opera.” You’re sweating at your hairline and you flinch when you hear a sudden snap, finding someone on the sidelines taking your picture. “Alright then, Y/N.” The stern lady straightens out her blazer and puts down her pen, having jotted down some notes. “And you’re auditioning for the supporting role of a townswoman, so part of the female ensemble?” “Yes.” “Pardon?” “Yes!” you exclaim in a louder voice. “Then what song will you be singing for us today?” “The Life I Never Led by the Sister Act the Musical!” You’re already straining your voice by yelling, but you pay no mind, quickly flipping the page after they nod and make hums of acknowledgment. The man’s deadpans in a monotone, “Start.” You clear your throat, steadying your breath. “I've never talked back, I've never slept late, I've never sat down when told to stand straight—” One of their hands raise. You pause. “Can you sound more…” He gestures with his hand. “Light? Right now it’s very serious, and we’re looking for something lively.” “Yes, of course, sorry.” You brace yourself and start again. But it’s happening again. Your hands have a sudden tremor. You feel your heart picking up its pace, fast enough that you’re scared of getting a heart attack. Your face twitches against its will. Your mouth goes dry. You feel dizzy. Like you might throw up before passing out. “I-I've never talked back, I've never slept late, I've never sat down when told to stand straight. I've never let go and gone with the flow, and don't even know, really, why.” The strangers are scrutinizing you. A cold sweat wash down your body, palms clammy, knees shaking. It’s an out-of-body experience and you cringe when you hear yourself go off tune. Everything that you’ve prepared yourself for goes down the drain. The self-assurance washes away, leaving in its place your most desperate state — a girl who tries hard but whose effort never shows. Your voice even warbles against your will. “I've never rebelled, or stood up and yelled, or even just held my head high. And all of the feelings unspoken, all of the truths unsaid, they're all I have left of the life I never led—” You inhale a breath as the note finishes off. But before you can continue singing, the woman in the center raises her hand to silence you. It goes quiet immediately. The sound of scratching pens on paper seem deafening. Then finally, the woman looks up and clasps her hands together. “Alright, thank you for coming. We’ll let you know the final results.” “T-Thank you.” You leave feeling sick to your stomach. Outside the silent room is noise, others still singing and warming up, sounding a thousand times better than you. They’re stable, excited, assured. You know you did poorly, and you’re not imagining it either. You never end up getting a call back from them. No denials or confirmations. The radio silence is loud and clear.

It’s early in the morning with you crouched over sorting clothes in a bin that two pairs of feet shuffle forward. Your head moves back to find the girls that frequently flock to Taeyeon looking down at you. The corner of her lips curl. “You went for an audition for Beauty and the Beast?” “What?” “I saw you,” the other girl sasses with a shrill voice and her arms crossed. “I was wondering why you weren’t here, but Jimin said you had a dentist appointment. Looks like you were lying to even him.” “I—” One of them squats down, meeting your eye level. “Do you really think you could make it? Thought you could sneak away and get yourself a big role to show the rest of us and make us feel bad? I don’t think so. Let’s be frank, you could never make it, Y/N. Shouldn’t bother trying. Why would you set yourself up for disappointment? But I guess the effort is cute.” She stands and her friend smirks. “The director knows you were lying and trying to jump ship and run away from your job. He’s pissed. So good luck trying to keep this position, intern.” They walk away and your eyes sting painfully. Your hand balls into a tight fist, the clothes in your hands wrinkling. Your nails sink past the thin fabric into the palm of your hand. Your knuckles turn white. It’s a privilege to work here. A privilege. You remind yourself of these things — that you will not punch them in the face. As much as you want to and as strong as the urge is, you won’t scratch their faces until they bleed and scream. “Fucking bitches…” you mutter out from your clenched teeth. At the same time, Jimin enters the floor. The timing is poor. He’s a moment too late, but it’s enough to catch them walking away and enough for him to read your angered expression that he mistakes as emotional distraught. “Hey, what’s going on?” Your ears perk once you hear the smooth timbre. Turning to find Jimin, you sigh and relax, rage fading. “Nothing. Can you help me fold this bin? I need to grab the other.” “Alright.” Jimin nods slowly, watching your backside. The director is indeed passive aggressive to you, making comments that you shouldn't lose focus on this job and whatever else bullshit he usually gives. But you don't care. The weight of your failures are heavier on your mind. // “Today, we’re going to brush up on some singing techniques and then talk about building your acting resume.” “I practiced.” Jimin smiles. “I swear.” “Good.” It’s humiliating, not because of other people’s perceptions of you. But it’s humiliating to yourself. You’ve always complained that no one would give you a chance, that all you needed was an opportunity, but once it was given to you, you messed it up. There’s no one to blame. Not your shitty life or because of the director. Not because of your bad luck or the world’s prejudice towards you. It’s no one’s fault but your own. You’ve lost a great chance. How many more will be given to you? How can you ever dream of standing on a world stage if you can’t even go through an audition? Maybe the director was right. When you stand in his shoes, it’s clear that you don’t know what you’re doing, that you’re not ready. Far from it. Your ambitions are bigger than your capabilities. You’re a sapling who wants to be a grand cherry blossom. Perhaps that’s why those girls laughed at you — why they were so condescending when they found out you were auditioning. You’re a foolish imposter. A sapling that wants to be a blossom tree. You’d laugh at yourself too. “Y/N?” “Huh?” “I asked you how I did.” Jimin searches your expression with his own brows scrunched in concern. “I just sang.” “Oh, sorry. You did fine.” You’re too distracted to teach. You’re mentally distraught, fatigued — and you honestly just want to crawl underneath your covers for a while and wish your entire life would be fixed. Or at least until everyone forgot about you and you could start over. But Jimin would never allow himself to forget about you. “Are you sure you’re alright?” “I’m just….at a bit of a low point,” you admit, mustering a smile. “I’ll be okay. Always am.” “It’s okay if you want to talk about it. I’ll listen to you.” His gaze is sincere and his attention is fully devoted to you. It goes quiet as you mull over your own thoughts, and then Jimin’s eyes light up, He digs into his bag for a flyer. “Actually, there was something that I wanted to talk to you about.” He hands it to you and you unfold the corners. The flyer is a dark blue with a streak of red, a young girl on it facing the horizon. You recognize it immediately. It’s the musical, Les Misérables. Jimin smiles. “They’re doing auditions.” “You want to try out?” Your eyes flicker up to him. “I think we should try out,” he suggests. “It’s a good opportunity.” There’s a thick lump in your throat. The paper in your hand crinkles where you hold it tightly between your fingertips. You wondered how many chances you would get after you blew them all. But with Jimin, came another chance. Yet you’re still humiliated. You still feel like an imposter. “I don’t...think I’m ready.” He’s befuddled. “What do you mean?” “You should try out for it, Jimin. I think I’ll sit this one out.” Jimin grabs your wrist before you can get up. His hands curl around your flesh, but his fingers are gentle, his touch tender. His softened eyes search your expression again, and you feel your face get warm under his attention. “I don’t get it. Why would you want to miss this opportunity? Didn’t you tell me that you should always take whatever chance you get? I really have a good feeling about this one. I thought we could try it out together.” “I just…..I don’t think I can do it.” “Why not?” “Because I’m not good enough!” you scream. “You are!” Jimin stands on his feet and when he realizes he’s yelling, he lowers his volume. “I know that you know that you are, so that’s why I don’t understand. Are you giving up?” “No.” It’s an outrageous question, but somehow your harsh whisper sounds like a lie. “I’m not giving up.” “Then do this with me,” he coaxes. “We can try out together.” For a second, you envision being on stage with Jimin, looking over during the grand finale and exchanging silent smiles with one another — but it seems like such a far-fetched dream. “Are you really satisfied being a ghost singer and performing behind the curtain?” he asks. “I’m not.” You divert your vision elsewhere. There’s a sudden pressure on your shoulders, and you can feel yourself break out into a sweat. “There’s nothing wrong with trying,” Jimin tells you and makes it sound so simple. “If we fail, we fail together. If we succeed, we succeed together.” You meet his vision, wondering why he’s trying too hard to convince you. You don’t want to be pushed — but maybe it’s what you need. “Okay. Let’s try.” He smiles and you shove away your hesitance. // The pair of you get your applications completed together in the coming days, sending in headshots, filling out your sheets, preparing the reel. You practice small sections of the available script, singing while watching your expressions. It’s exactly what you did not long ago — but this time it’s with Jimin. And his enthusiasm crumbles away your despair. You might be a sapling trying to be a cherry blossom, but Jimin is a grand flower bed blooming beside you. He makes you just a bit more confident of budding your own flowers and reaching great heights. The both of you submit your applications together, and anticipation bubbles at the pit of your stomach. As much as you try to keep it at bay, your hope creeps back in. Maybe this could be it... And then your phone rings days later. “Hello?” “Hello?” The voice on the other line is unmistakable. “Hi, is this Ms. Y/N?” “Yes, it is. How may I help you?” “I’m the casting director for the Les Misérables production here in New York. You recently sent in an application for an audition. We were wondering if you were still interested and willing to set up a convenient date to meet.” “I-I….” You inhale a deep breath to fill your lungs. Your vision is blurred, eyes stinging with tears that threaten to shed, but you keep yourself composed and professional. “Yes, I’m still interested. I’d be happy to set up a date and time for an audition.” There’s a flutter in your stomach. You feel like you might throw up — but it’s the first time that it’s for a good thing. Though instead of opting for spilling your food out from your guts in excitement, you find yourself throwing the front door open. There’s one person that you want to tell. This time, you’ll follow your urges. You won’t hold back. But before you can even knock on the door next to yours, you catch the brunette boy walking down the hall, having turned the corner of where the stairwell is. Jimin sees you too and his eyes light up. They shimmer in the corridor lights and he approaches with his hands dug in the pockets of his trench coat. It takes too long. You run and meet him halfway. “I...got a call.” His smile expands into a grin. He hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “I did too. Just now, right?” “Just now.” You confirm with vigorous nods, almost crying. If it weren’t for him…. You hop up to Jimin on the tips of your toes, your whimper is muffled into his shoulder with your face dug into his coat. And your arms wrap around his torso. The boy’s surprised, stumbling back from the impact, but blissfully giggles when he realizes you’re hugging him. Jimin’s arms quickly encircle your waist. His cheeks deepen into a rosy hue and his smile softens even more. He smells of lavender body wash and fresh linen. “I told you that you could do it,” he teases gently in an intimate whisper. Your gratitude is immense. You’re rendered speechless. You don’t know what to say, what to tell him. So you try to show him, squeezing him tighter. You were going to give up — you could only take so many failures — you could only last so long in a state of limbo. But with Jimin by your side, you feel like you could achieve anything. You finally let go of him, heart racing, making wild gestures. “We-we need to get started, Park. We have to go look for a song and start practicing. You told me we’re in this together, so why are we wasting time out here? Come on!” You grab onto him, pulling him towards his apartment as his laughter rings in the air. In the meanwhile, Jimin muses in his mind that he meant it when he said you were beautiful when you were happy. You’re practically glowing. // There’s more practice to be done, helping one another choose songs for the audition, giving opinions to improve certain parts, to use certain techniques. You’re more motivated than before, fueling your own morale instead of relying on his. You’re eager, especially knowing that you won’t be alone during the audition, that you won’t be entering a room of complete strangers. Singing in front of Jimin wasn’t as hard as it used to be either. Your palms don’t get clammy, sweat doesn’t start dripping, your knees don’t shake. It helps a lot to sing directly in front of someone. And you’ve gotten comfortable with him. Jimin’s attention is still a lot sometimes, but you know it’s coming from a good place. He’s not so much scrutinizing as he is listening and savouring. “What if they ask you to dance?” He pipes up out of the blue while you’re making dinner at the same time as practicing. “What?” He repeats the question and smiles mischievously. “What would you do then?” “I don’t think they would. I’m pretty sure there isn’t any dancing in Les Mis, Jimin. If there is, then not a lot.” “Hey, you never know. They can tell you to do anything and you have to be ready for it.” You scoff lightly. He’s still trying to convince you to teach him after all these months. And you give in this time. You allow Jimin to pull you away from the stove. You’re timid, uncertain, but he places your hands where they need to be — both on his firm shoulders, while his own are light on your waist. “Like this.” “What if I step on your feet?” “I’ll survive.” His eyes twinkle, playful. “Okay, step back once, then I’ll step forward. Now step forward and I’ll step back. One, two, three, one two three. Just follow my lead.” You look down to your shuffling feet, making sure not to step on his toes. You feel silly, but it’s also easier than you realized. Maybe that’s just because he’s a good lead. “Relax, I’m not that fragile.” “I don’t want to be responsible if you get hurt.” You raise your head, eyes connecting to his. Jimin smiles, and then twirls you suddenly, making you laugh. He holds your right hand, letting you sway back and forth. It begins to feel more like a swing dance than a slow one. But the giggles are infectious and he pulls you close to him, enough for you to feel his body heat and for it to warm your face to your toes. You feel light, butterflies swooping from your chest to the pits of your stomach. And Jimin’s the very cause of it. “Jimin!” You laugh, trying to pull away. “The water’s gonna overboil!” He stares deeply into you, corners of his mouth pulling. “Just let it.” “And burn down this apartment?” Jimin shrugs, but lets go anyhow. “I wouldn’t mind.” You feel colder when he’s gone, though your fingertips still tingle with his touch. His hands were soft. “When the time comes, I’ll happily teach you how to dance properly.” You know that time will come someday as long as you stay by Jimin’s side.

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #bts scenario #jimin scenario

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