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d-criss-news · 3 years

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20 Questions With Darren Criss: How Acting Has Helped Him Make New Music

While Darren Criss has graced our TV screens with a range of characters, from high schooler Blaine Anderson on Glee to serial killer Andrew Cunanan on The Assassination of Gianni Versace, he was last spotted just being himself, on our For You Page on TikTok. “I’m walking to rehearsal with a guitar on my back with a Trader Joe’s bag ... I did not bring an umbrella because I forgot that it was raining. I’m rocking that NYC musician life,” the Glee alum explained in the hilarious clip posted three days ago.

While Criss’ acting work has earned him acclaim and stardom, he leaned into making music during the pandemic. On Aug. 20, he dropped a new EP, Masquerade, featuring five new tracks that Criss says were inspired by the different characters Criss has embraced throughout his career. After Criss wrote songs for his musical comedy web series Royalties and Apple TV+’s animated sitcom Central Park before the pandemic struck the United States, he then used those experiences as a precursor to his new EP. As Criss continues to promote his new music, he answered 20 of Billboard's questions – giving us a peek into how his new EP came together, and how growing up in San Fransisco shaped him as an actor, singer and all-around artist.

1. What inspired your latest project, Masquerade?

Although I would have preferred that it come at a far less grim cost, I finally had the time. Before the pandemic, I had written 10 new songs for my show Royalties -- along with an original song for Disney and another for Apple’s Central Park. These were all assignments in which I was writing for a certain scenario and character. Go figure. It was the most music I had ever written in a calendar year. This really emboldened me to rethink how I made my own music— to start putting a focus on “character creation” in my songs, rather than personal reflection. The latter was not proving to be as productive. The alchemy of having this time and having set a new intention with my own songwriting and producing made me put on a few of my favorite masques and throw myself a Masquerade.

2. How do you think your background as an actor complements your music?

They are one and the same to me. I treat acting roles like musical pieces— dialogue is like scoring a melody; there’s pace, dynamics, cadence, tone. Physical characterization is like producing -- zeroing in on the bass line, deciding on the kick pattern. Vocal characterization is like choosing the right sonic experience, choosing the most effective snare sound, and mixing the high end or low end. It goes without saying that it works in the complete opposite direction. Making each song is taking on a different role literally and employing the use of different masques to maximize the effectiveness of the particular story being told.

3. On Instagram you wrote that “Masquerade is a small collection of the variety of musical masques that have always inspired me.” Which track do you identify with most in your real life?

Everybody absorbs songs differently. Some key into the lyrics, some into the melody, some the production, some into vocal performance. When I listen to songs, I consider all of their value on totally different scales. So it’s hard to say if there’s any track I “identify” with more than any others, since I -- by nature -- identify with all of them. I think I just identify with certain aspects more than others. If it helps for a more interesting answer, I will say I enjoy the slightly more classical, playful -- dare I say -- more Broadway-leaning wordplay of “Walk of Shame,” but that’s just talking about lyricism. I enjoy the attitude of “F*kn Around,” the batsh--t musicality of “I Can’t Dance,” the relentless grooves of “Let’s” and “For A Night Like This.” All have different ingredients I really enjoy having an excuse to dive into.

4. What’s the first piece of music that you bought for yourself, and what was the medium?

Beatles audio cassettes: “Help” and “Hard Day’s Night.” I just listened on repeat on a tape-playing Walkman until my brother and I got a stereo for our room with a CD player in it, which was when I just bought the same two albums again, but this time as compact discs.

5. What was the first concert you saw?It’s hard to say, because my parents took us to a lot of classical concerts when we were small. But I guess this question usually refers to what was the first concert you went to on your own volition, and that my friend, was definitely Warped Tour ’01. My brother and I went on our own— two teenagers going to their first music festival, in the golden age of that particular genre and culture. It was f--king incredible.

6. What did your parents do for a living when you were a kid?

My dad was in private banking and advised really, really wealthy people on how to handle their money. My mom was, by choice, a stay-at-home mom, but in reality, she was my dad’s consigliere. They discussed absolutely everything together. They were a real team, and I saw that every single day in the house. They both had a background in finance (That’s how they met in the first place.) and were incredibly skilled at all the hardcore adulting things that I absolutely suck at. They were total finance wizards together. So of course, instead of becoming an accountant, I picked up playing the guitar and ran as far I could with it. Luckily, they were all about it.

7. What was your favorite homecooked meal growing up?

My dad was an incredible chef. For special occasions, I’d request his crab cakes. They were unreal. I’ve never had a crab cake anywhere in the world that was good as my dad’s.

8. Who made you realize you could be an artist full-time?

I don’t know if I’ve actually realized that yet.

9. What’s at the top of your professional bucket list?

The specifics change every day, but the core idea at the top is to continue being consistently inconsistent with my choices, and to keep getting audiences to constantly reconsider their consideration of me. But I mean, sure, what performer doesn’t want to play Coachella? What songwriter doesn’t want to have Adele sing one of their songs? What actor doesn’t want to be in a Wes Anderson film?

10. How did your hometown/city shape who you are?

San Francisco. I mean, come on. I was really lucky. The older I get, the more grateful I am for just being born and raised there. It’s an incredibly diverse, culturally rich, colorful, inclusive, vibrant city. By the time I was born, it had served as a beacon for millions of creative, out-of-the-box thinkers to gather and thrive. I grew up around that. The combination of that with having parents, who were unbelievably supportive of the arts themselves, laid an incredibly fortunate foundation to consider the life of an artist as a legitimately viable option. It’s a foundation that I am supremely aware is not the case for millions of young artists around the world. I was absurdly lucky.

11. What’s the last song you listened to?

I mean probably one of mine, but not by choice. I know, lame. But I’m promoting a new EP, what’d you expect? But if you wanna know what I’ve been listening to, as far as new s--t is concerned: a lot of Lizzy McAlpine, Remi Wolf, and Charlie Burg.

12. If you could see any artist in concert, dead or alive, who would it be?

The Beatles is an obvious "yeah, duh." Sammy Davis, Mel Tormé, or of course, Nat King Cole. I would’ve loved to see Howard Ashman give a lecture on his creative process and his body of work.

13. What’s the wildest thing you’ve seen happen in the crowd of one of your sets?

I feel like just having a crowd at all, at any one of my sets, is pretty wild enough.

14. What’s your karaoke go-to?

The real answer to this I’ll write into a book one day, because I have a lot to say about karaoke etiquette. I have two options here: I can either name a song that I like to sing for me, for fun, or I can name a song that really gets the group going. The answer depends on what kind of karaoke night we’re dealing with here. So I will say, after I’ve selected a ton of songs that services a decent enough party vibe for everyone else, then I would do one for me, and that would be the Beatles’ “Oh! Darling.”

15. What’s one thing your most devoted fans don’t know about you?

What I have up my sleeve.

16. What TV show did you binge-watch over the past year?

Dave is a stroke of genius. There are episodes that I believe are bona fide masterpieces. Also, My Brilliant Friend is a masterclass in cinematic television.

17. What movie, or song, always makes you cry?

It’s A Wonderful Life.

18. What’s one piece of advice you would give to your younger self?

Get used to sharing everything about yourself and your life now, or more astutely, to the idea that you don’t necessarily get to control how your life is shared. I know it’s not really your thing, but you’re gonna have to get used to it, so start building up those calluses now. And don’t worry, all the stuff you love now will be cool again in your mid-thirties, so keep some of those clothes because you’ll be a full-blown fashion icon if you just keep wearing exactly what you’re wearing. Oh nd also, put money into Apple and Facebook.

19. What new hobby did you take on in the last year?

I’ve always been a linguaphile. My idea of leisure time is getting to study or review other languages. This past year, I took the time to finally dive into learning how to read, write, and speak Japanese. Other than making music, it was one of the biggest components of my 2020-2021.

20. What do you hope to accomplish or experience by the end of 2021?

I hope I get to play live shows again.

#darren criss #billboard #masquerade ep #press #sept 2021

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lin-nin · 3 years

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Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 1

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer: Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

This is a kingdom AU of DreamTeam & SleepyBoisInc’s characters! These are not the real people and I tried to portray them as how their characters are in the SMP as best I could. I took some small liberties to fit this specific plot line. I am also not caught up with the SMP since it is a lot to watch. In all honesty, at time of reading this Jschlatt has only just joined the server in regards to where I’m at.

How am I writing about characters I haven’t even met yet? I know enough vaguely about them to do so.

Also the kingdoms, in the original draft, are not named as I don’t know what to name them yet. This may change later.

Thanks for reading, though!

Chapter 1: Betrothal

"What?!" You heaved a sigh at the voice, moving your fingers from your hair as you turned to the rather affronted voice. In front of you stood your childhood friend, Dream. A scowl marred the visible portion of his face, one green eye narrowed at you. His distaste was clear, and you could only sigh again.

"We need to end this famine, Dream. Besides, a convenient marriage is a convenient marriage. I'm the age to marry. I have no one I want to marry. I'll marry who I need to assure the safety and security of my people." It was something so simple. Your people were currently starving, barely managing by. Even the castle and the nobles felt the waves of this. One of the neighboring kingdoms had offered help, but at a hefty price. Your hand in marriage to their crown prince.

"It's just a bad harvest! You can't go there to those warmongering monsters. Have you ever even met them?" His arm flung towards the wall, a vague gesticulation towards the other kingdom. He was right, you had never met someone from there. They had a grim past of war and conquest. Another reason it was convenient for you to go.

"It's been a bad harvest for a few years. While their values may differ from ours, marrying their prince has its perks. It should protect us from war with them, at least while I live." You walked to Dream, lowering his arm gently. A soft but firm hold. "I'll be fine. Besides, I'll be meeting them within the week."

You knew very little of this country, truly. They had differing reputation. The men called them monsters, while older soldiers said they were savages on the battlefield. Working women in the village insisted that they were just like any other country, but they at least had an attractive royal family. The servants in the castle seemed to agree with that sentiment. You? You had cause to believe both.

"A week? You- A week?!" Dream stammered in anger, or disbelief. Maybe both. He pushed your hands away from him, turning to pace around your room. Another sigh fell from your lips, eyes traveling from the axe bouncing against his back to the open door. Castle life was resuming as normal. Like their only princess wasn't being carted off soon to some foreign kingdom for marriage. This kingdom would be fine. Your parents were great rulers, and your older brother would be as well. You just worried about your future more than you would admit.

"-unknown kingdom run by fucking brutes, and you're giving me a week with you before I never see you again?!" Dream's rising voice ripped you from your thoughts, gaze finding him again. An enraged green eye focused solely on you, and you could only take a deep breath. He always had a volatile anger.

"You'll see me again, I'm sure. I'll be sure to write,” You soothed softly, offering up what you could only hope was a reassuring smile. There was no telling if it actually did, either. He definitely did seem to calm a little at that, at least. A little wasn’t quite enough though.

“It’s not the same. What am I supposed to do once you’re gone?” He grumbled, looking down at you with a furrowed brow. You resisted the temptation to laugh at the expression and general cluelessness. This wasn’t the time to tease him. He was like a puppy sometimes.

“I think you’ll manage just fine. You could always go annoy George.” A smile graced your lips at the thought. George was your older brother, crown prince to the kingdom. He and Dream got along fine, thankfully. You were sure that he would keep your friend in check while you were gone. Dream would just have to get over it all once you had left.

“It’s not the same, he has responsibilities to attend to,” He huffed, head shaking.

“As do I. That’s why we’re having this conversation. How about your other friend?” You turned from him, moving about your room. You needed to think about what you would have to bring with you. Which dresses and which jewelry. You didn’t even know what the court was like over there.

“Maybe. Are you sure you’ll be fine? You’ll come back if something happens?” He was calming down, it seemed. Good. You could do without him being frantic and yelling. It was always exhausting when it got like that. You paused and thought about his words. Would you even be able to come back? You had an inkling of a feeling that once you were married, you’d be stuck there. A white lie for the sanity of your friend wouldn’t hurt.

“Of course I will, Dream. If anything is wrong, you’ll be the first to know. I won’t stay where I’m in danger.” You turned to him, once more offering a soft smile. There was no telling if you were right in your words. Would you return? Would you be safe there? No one knew, and only time would tell.

Next Chapter | >

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken #dream #dream team #dream smp #technoblade x reader #technoblade #sleepy bois family #sleepy bois inc #kingdom au #reader insert #t&t

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handy-dandy-monster-candy · 3 years

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Jayson, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1690 Pairing: Male Croc Lizardman x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

It’s Latin night at the local community centre, and you’re not sure if the earth is shaking or if it’s just your nerves. It’s your turn to dance with Jayson tonight, the handsome crocodilian lizardman who’s been the centre of attention since your dance classes began. He’s experienced at all sorts of dances, more agile than you’d expect for someone almost eight feet tall, and he’s been sweeping the little old ladies right off their feet—sometimes literally.

You’d initially joined the yoga classes held at the centre, but the time slots didn’t line up with the dance classes, so you never saw head or tail of the lizardman before the night poor old Mr. Grims slipped a disc doing an advanced pose at the end of the session. You decided to stick around with him until the ambulance came, keeping him company until he was loaded up and carted away from the centre towards the hospital a few blocks away.

That’s when Jayson approached you, coffee held in a delicate pincer grip in one hand and speakers held in the other, to ask you what had happened. He had deep green scales and brilliant golden-green eyes, with a body that looked like he could bench you in his sleep. He had a ready smile when he introduced himself to you, and the sympathy in his voice when he learned of Mr. Grim’s accident sounded sincere.

It was no surprise that you gravitated to the event hall after yoga let out that night, and what you saw made you wonder why you’d never considered dancing before. People of all ages and species crowded into the event hall, swing dancing at all skill levels and laughing throughout. It looked fun, and of course Jayson was at the centre of it all, bopping and weaving through the dancers and calling out encouragement and playful critiques. He was one of the instructors, you realised, and on impulse, you signed up for the next week’s class.

Flexibility, you quickly learned after Mrs. MacDougall bent you backwards over her knee, was invaluable in Jayson’s dance class. You thanked your lucky stars that you had decided to take yoga first, or you think you would have ended up in Mr. Grim’s place. Each week, you dance to a different genre, though Jayson always finds a way to put a spin on it. Last week you learned the choreography that Jayson and his fellow instructor Lindsa put together to Doja Cat’s Boss Bitch, which starred some impressive ballet on Lindsa’s behalf. They each pick a different dancer to give special instruction to each week, and this time, it’s your turn to be what feels like the sole focus of the big reptilian man you’ve developed a weak-kneed crush on. When the trumpets start blaring in Ilegales’ song Como Un Trueno, you almost jump out of your skin, and judging by the way Jayson laughs, he’d noticed.

“Alright, from the top!” Jayson calls, his gravelly voice warm and rough with amusement. “Loosen up, Ilario. Greta, sweetheart, go easy on him.”

“He’d better keep up!” Mrs. MacDougall says instead, earning herself a rare laugh from Lindsa on the other side of the room. You watch with sympathy as she drags the aforementioned man out onto the dance floor, looking more like a prisoner gamely meeting his end at the gallows than a willing dance partner.

“Ready?” Jayson asks you, and you wonder how you ever took your eyes off the charismatic reptile.

“As I’ll ever be,” you say, smiling cheerfully up at Jayson and taking his proffered hand.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Jason laughs, his feet starting to move along with the serpentine motions of his hips.

“I can’t help it,” you reply around a laugh of your own, following his lead and allowing him to dance you around the room. “I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jayson eyes you incredulously. “You?”

“Yes, me! Everyone’s looking at us.”

“I’m an instructor,” Jayson preens, his pride in his position making you smile again. “They have to look at me.”

“Well, yeah,” you say, concentrating very hard on not stepping on the larger man’s feet. “You’re hard to look away from.”

Jayson grins at this slip. “Am I?”

You curse your distracted tongue, but you don’t regret having this conversation. Yet. “Oh, definitely,” you shoot back, and the smug gleam in Jayson’s eyes makes you want to swat him and kiss him all at once. “You’re so big, how could I miss you?”

“Larger than life, baby,” Jayson replies, picking up the pace and twirling you like a top around him. You’re a little dizzy by the time he urges you into another set of moves, pliable with disorientation and the thrill of letting such a big man take control of your body and manhandle you however he likes. “Just let it happen,” he says in your ear, and he clears a space in the hall for you two to take centre stage.

His hands on your waist are the only warning you get before you’re airborne, your body weaving over his shoulders and between his legs in a way that makes your head spin. You somehow manage to make your feet keep moving when they find their way to the floor again, though it isn’t long before you’re twirled and spun and tossed this way and that. The feel of his muscles through his clothing is a sensation that you’ll not soon forget, and his hands feel like brands wherever they touch, hot and huge and capable. You’ve never trusted someone this implicitly with your safety, and the thrill is enough to leave you breathless.

The song ends in a sharp crescendo of brass and with your body dipped between Jayson’s muscular thighs. Your heart is pounding so hard that you barely hear the applause from the other dancers, your chest heaving and your eyes locked on Jayson’s handsome face. “You okay down there?” he asks, and you want to swat him all over again.

“Thinking I should have worn anything but sweatpants,” you quip back, drawing his eyes down to your erection between you. He straightens and manages to discreetly shield you with his bulk as you rearrange yourself. Jayson seamlessly draws attention to himself and critiques dancers nearby, moving to adjust positions and laughingly reminding others to be more careful of their partners’ feet.

You move away to hide, hydrate, and watch Jayson work the room, so you miss the way that Lindsa weaves toward you until she’s leaning against the wall beside you, asking, “You and Jay-Sun, huh?”

You nearly jump out of your skin. As it is, the water in your mouth goes the completely wrong direction, and you have to accept her help pounding it out of your lungs. “Me and what?” you choke out, eyes watering.

“Oh, don’t jerk me around,” Lindsa says with a sharp smirk, tawny eyes gleaming. She’s unnaturally beautiful even for a harpy, with sandy yellow feathers that match her hair and wide, egg-bearing hips. She’s canny and clever, and though she’s a good and patient teacher, there’s a ruthlessness about her that makes you feel as though you’d be hunted before you’d be courted.

You frown. “I guess,” you say with a shrug. “I like him. What of it?”

“He’ll want to date you,” Lindsa replies without ceremony, idly preening her wing feathers and watching you with unblinking eyes. “I happen to like the guy. Hurt him, and I’ll read your entrails for filth.”

This exchange leaves you entirely flabbergasted—so much so that you spend the rest of class distracted by your thoughts. Jayson notices, and his personality turns up to 11. You find it hard not to smile at his antics and his peacocking amuses you, though you catch Lindsa eyeing you both more often than not for the rest of the session. At the end of the class, Jayson makes a beeline for you and you struggle not to flee under his almost predatory gaze, standing your ground and smiling up at him.

“What’s going on?” he asks without preamble, resting a hand on the wall high above your head. “You’ve been out of your head since we first danced. Did Lindsa get hold of you?”

Your smile falls, and you feel more than a little exposed. Were you that easy to read? “Am I that obvious?” you ask, laughing nervously.

“Hardly,” says Jayson, grinning widely and displaying all his sharp teeth. “More like she’s about as subtle as a brick to the head. She threaten you?”

You nod, speechless.

Jayson snorts and shouts, “Lindsa!” over his shoulder, earning himself a cool look from the intimidating harpy. “Stay out of my love life!”

“I will when you make good decisions,” Lindsa drawls back, and you frown. Are you not a good choice?

Jayson shakes his head, dismissing her and turning his attention back to you. “Don’t listen to the old bird.”

“I’ll turn you into a handbag, Sunny,” Lindsa says without lifting her eyes from the gym bag she’s packing. “And a new pair of boots.”

“As if any part of me could handle those thighs,” Jayson scoffs, waving his hand and smiling down at you. “Like I said, don’t listen to her. She’s just protective of me because I’m younger. Are you free this weekend?”

“Um, yeah,” you say, caught off guard by the banter between the pair and looking between them with something like wariness. Was this going to be an issue?

Jayson notices your unease and leans in close enough that you can look into his eyes and smell his cologne, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s really not a big deal. She does this to everyone I wanna date. Just ignore it and focus on me. Can you do that for me?”

The way he seems to have eyes only for you brings you out of the mire of your thoughts, and you find yourself smiling up at Jayson all over again. “Yeah,” you say. “I can.”

Jayson grins, and you’re surprised to find that lizardmen can have dimples. “Perfect.”

#exophilia #mlm exophilia #gay exophilia #monster romance #monster boyfriend #lizardman boyfriend #lizardman #Jayson #My work

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seattlesea · 3 years

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Percy Jackson Characters + Voices

Percy: -Has a heavy New Yorker accent -Uses a lot of New York/Manhattan slang and skater slang as well (if that’s even a thing) -Has quite a deep voice but gets voice cracks pretty often -Has a rough, gravelly, smoky, and vigorous voice -Talks pretty slow, like water calmly splashing on rocks -But talks really slow when he’s bored or tired, people will stop listening before he even finishes one sentence cause he takes forever to speak -Sometimes has a really deep, bored, and calm voice that’s actually quite pleasant to listen to when you’re tired, exhausted, or trying to relax -His voice gets deeper when he’s upset and shaky when he’s really scared -Half the time he’s talking slowly and taking his sweet time and the other half the time he’s talking at a mile a minute -Sometimes he sounds like the deepest parts of the ocean and melted chocolate and other times sounds like the surface of a calm ocean on a peaceful summer day -At night he sounds so sleepy and dreamy but in the mornings and throughout the rest of the day he sounds so bright and merry and chirpy it’s hard to believe those two voices are coming from the same person -But when he’s yelling he’s pretty intimidating, he sounds wild and fierce

Annabeth: -Has a slight Virginian accent she tries hard to get rid of -Her voice is kind of high and she hates it -Has a light, clear, silvery, and firm voice -Sometimes sounds completely toneless and blunt when talking to people she doesn’t know and can sound cold as ice when talking to an enemy -She has a really nice and pleasant reading voice (and a nice, pleasant voice in general) -People love listening to her when she’s talking about something she’s interested in (especially architecture) cause she sounds so eager and happy and excited and it’s so nice to hear from her -Sounds loud and scary when she’s yelling -Can sound really tight at times -She giggles more than laughs, and her laugh is so quiet, barely noticeable -Pronounces every word perfectly and carefully, she pronounces every syllable at a time -Sounds like what writing in cursive looks like -She uses really long and sophisticated words a lot of people don’t know the meaning of. She’s pretty much a walking dictionary -Her voice gets lower when she’s sad and it’s heartbreaking -Overall she has a really soothing, simple, and steady voice -She uses perfect grammar at all times and rarely stutters -Sometimes will sound like cotton and a soft breeze and other times will sound like ice and blizzards depending on her mood and who she’s talking to

Jason: -Pure American boy accent -Has a very steady and level voice and when he’s talking to people he doesn’t really know he sounds serious and monotonous -But his voice is so soft and gentle when talking to his family and friends it’s like getting a verbal bear hug -Has a slight lisp from his lip scar -Just like Annabeth, likes to pronounce things perfectly and on point -Sounds like what still water and glass look like -Is naturally really loud. He has to be reminded to lower his voice on a daily basis -Often unintentionally sounds toneless like someone reading an audiobook -He has the deepest voice out of all the males and sounds deeper when he’s upset or exhausted -Uses really obscure and complicated words and barely anyone but Reyna and Annabeth can understand him -Sounds really commanding and assertive when he’s yelling and giving orders

Piper: -Sounds like a typical California girl -Talks kind of slow and ties her words together when she’s tired -Has voice that’s not too deep or too high, kind of in the middle -Has a really pleasant, attractive, smooth, sultry, emotional, and soft voice -But because of that she also sounds really honeyed and new people often don’t trust her when speaking to her for the first time -Uses casual, short, and simple words. No slang, nicknames, etc. Just the basic everyday words -Her charmspeak takes on the best qualities of the listener. Percy hears hints of Annabeth, Jason hears hints of Thalia and Reyna, Hazel hears a bit of her mother, etc. -When she’s yelling she sounds frantic, almost hysterical -And she gets a slight rasp when she’s been yelling too much -Sounds like what honey looks like and what a birdsong sounds like -Has a soft and quiet laugh

Frank: -He used to have a Chinese accent, then a Canadian one -Uses a lot of Canadian slang most people don’t understand -Mutters in Mandarin a lot -Has a soft, soothing, silky, mellow, kind of deep, and overall really cute voice -He mirrors people often. If he’s been listening to Percy a lot, he’ll sound deeper and rougher. If he’s been listening to Annabeth a lot, he’ll sound higher and clearer, etc. -Same thing goes for his laugh. It changes every few days or so -Has a loud and adorable contagious laugh. It sounds like happiness -Sounds like sunshine and sugar -Uses simple words everyone can understand -Also uses really good grammar -Talks at a pretty steady pace most of the time, even when he’s tired or mad -When he’s yelling he sounds really forceful -Gets voice cracks when he’s angry or scared but doesn’t really mind

Hazel: -Beautiful voice, it sounds like heaven -Has a slight New Orleans and old-fashioned accent that makes it clear she isn’t from this century -Uses a lot of older slang and words that aren’t relevant today but no one bothers to correct her cause it’s so cute -Has a soft, soothing, flowing, kind of high, spirited, lively, pleasant, smooth, and passionate voice -Is the easiest person to listen to, her voice is so warm and calming -Sounds like writing in cursive and italics at the same time -Talks nice and kind of slow -Sounds like what the cool side of a pillow feels like, honey, and the reflection of jewels from the sun (pun intended) -Has a scary and assertive voice when she’s yelling -Everyone loves making her laugh cause it’s so sweet and delightful -Has a higher than average voice, mostly cause of her young age and cause she hasn’t really hit puberty yet -Overall has a really lovely voice -Uses a bunch of really cute pet names like ‘Sugar’, ‘Doll’, ‘Cutie’, ‘Love’, ‘Honey’, etc.

Leo: -Used to have a really heavy Hispanic accent that faded as he grew, but it gets clearer the more he raises his voice -His voice is higher than average -Has a light, smooth, passionate, kind of husky, and gravelly voice that’s pretty attractive if you’re not into deep voices -Gets voice cracks and a deeper voice when he’s angry. When his voice is almost or just as deep as Jason’s, you know you f’d up -Sounds really low when he’s tired -Uses a bunch of mechanic and engineer terms that no one knows the meaning of -Mutters and hums to himself while he’s working -Uses really long and complicated words -Talks kind of choppily and will often pause mid-sentence -Sounds completely unhinged when he’s yelling, wild and terrifying -Mutters in Spanish a lot and often switches from English to Spanish then back again and Reyna is the only one who can understand him -Talks really, really fast, quite loudly, and talks a lot

Reyna: -If ‘butch’ was a word used to describe someone’s voice it’d be hers -Has a slight Puerto Rican accent that gets clearer when she yells -Also has hints of an unidentifiable islander accent that only Jason, Percy, and Annabeth know are from Circe’s Island -But also lived in California for 4+ years so has hints of a Californian accent as well so her accent is all over the place but it fits weirdly perfectly -Has a super deep voice, deeper than Percy’s and on par or deeper than Jason’s. Sometimes she sounds genderless -Has a strong, fruity, smooth, steady, level, attractive, firm, commanding, and pleasant voice -Can sound so soft and sweet that her voice sounds like fragile glass when she’s comforting someone and it’s so calming and warm -She’s learned to sound the same when she’s upset or angry after bottling her emotions for so long but whenever she lets go her voice gets low and shaky and sad and it’s heartbreaking -Whenever she yells it’s absolutely terrifying cause it’s loud and booming and strong and fierce and assertive and forceful and commanding and dominant and everyone listens to her right away without thinking -She uses perfect grammar and always has planned-out wording, but even when she’s using impromptu speech she never stutters or uses ‘uh’ or ‘um’ cause she’s so used to doing or coming up with things on the spot, especially in the heat of battle -She has a loud and slightly choppy but really cute laugh -Uses really weird and confusing curses no one knows she got from the pirates -In general curses a lot when she’s not on duty, especially during battle, more than Leo and Annabeth but not as much as Percy and Thalia -Also since she lived in California for 4+ years she definitely says ‘hella’ a lot and it’s her favorite word -Sounds like what melted marshmallows and coffee look like -Talks and mutters in Spanish and Latin a lot, sometimes mixes the two

Nico: -Has a ranging accent from a bunch of different places after being surrounded by people of multiple cultures at the Lotus Casino for so long -But his most distinct accent is his Italian one and he can’t pronounce some of his ‘i’s, pronouncing them like ‘e’ instead, and he pronounces Will’s name like ‘Wheel’ cause of it and he hates it but Will loves it -He sounds scratchy, shaky, and sad when he’s upset and it’s so agonizing to hear him like that -Overall he usually has a dark, grim, melancholy, thick, small, soft, and slightly raspy voice -He talks really fast when he’s excited and he sounds so eager and enthusiastic it’s adorable, everyone loves it, especially Percy cause Nico sounds so much like the upbeat, energetic, cheerful kid who played Mythomagic years ago -Has a light, soft, and giggly laugh that everyone loves to hear from him -But his yelling voice is frightening cause he sounds like the depths of Tartarus are screaming through his body and since he rarely raises his voice, all his pain and anger are shown through his voice at the same time -Gets voice cracks when he’s really angry or sad -Sounds like steel and what mint tastes like -Uses phrases from the 19th century and still uses terms and codes from World War II

Thalia: -Used to have a regular American accent but after travelling the world with the Hunters for over two years started picking up a ranging accent from various places, similar to Nico -Is naturally super loud just like Jason (like brother-like sister) and isn’t allowed to talk while the Hunters are stalking prey cause she alerts the monsters within a second if she speaks -Has a very brash, raucous, thunderous (pun intended), booming, smoky, sultry, silvery, stentorian, ringing, and slightly husky voice -Naturally sounds really sarcastic even if she’s not being so, and everyone she speaks to for the first time thinks she’s being rude when that’s just how she talks -Has a loud and booming laugh similar to Jason’s -Uses a lot of modern slang -Curses the most out of everyone and way too much, there’s at least two curse words in every sentence -And after hanging around Reyna so much she’s started saying ‘hella’ a lot, too -Gets a rasp when she’s been talking for a lot cause her voice is so loud it’s honestly a wonder why her vocal chords haven’t been destroyed yet -People often think she’s partially deaf -Sounds like thunder and lightning (literally and figuratively) -Roars more than yells, and it’s really scary and intimidating

Calypso: -Has a thick islander accent and kept trying to mimic different people’s accents until finding out that’s considered offensive -Often sounds sad, harsh, lost, and/or lonely cause all the time she spent alone on Ogygia -Has a voice that isn’t too high or too deep, but perfectly in the middle -Has a clear, honeyed, mystical, smoky, sultry, soft, and slightly fruity voice and can sometimes sound plummy -Uses slang and phrases from a hundred different centuries and no one can understand what she’s saying -Sounds grating and ringing when she’s yelling -Gets voice cracks when she’s upset -But overall has an almost otherworldly voice that makes her sound celestial and almost alien -Has a soft, clear, and giggly laugh that’s sometimes super quiet and other times louder than a speaker at full volume -Uses lengthy and sophisticated words and loves using British slang -Has hints of a British accent as well -Uses really good grammar -Sounds like fluffy clouds and warm sand

Rachel: -Typical American accent -Has a super relaxing and soothing voice that can calm down anyone without her even trying and she’s a great comforter because of it -Has a clear, silvery, thick, fruity, smoky, and steady voice that isn’t too high or too deep, also in the middle -Curses and mutters quite often -Uses a lot of modern and artist slang most demigods don’t understand -Learned curse words from a bunch of different languages -Has a nice, pleasant, easy-to-listen-to voice everyone loves to hear -She and Annabeth reading books together sounds like heaven -Is actually a really great singer and she, Thalia, and Reyna can harmonize weirdly well -Gets a slight rasp when she’s tired -Never raises her voice, ever, even when she’s angry or annoyed -Her pace is all over the place. Sometimes she talks super slowly, other times steadily, and other times faster than a car on the highway, but generally she drags some of her words and sounds so peaceful people love talking to her -Tries her hardest not to show any emotion when she’s upset, scared, or angry but usually fails and sounds shaky and brittle, almost like she’s going to cry, even if she’s not even close to crying -Sounds as beautiful as her paintings -And sounds like the scent of citrus and vanilla

(inspiration from lililibird-deactivated20162017)

sorry I’m spamming lmao

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senadimell · 3 years

Text

The Mysterious Benedict Society as an adaption

So far, The Mysterious Benedict Society adaption feels very faithful to the books. There are definitely changes (Constance, for instance, has been aged up, and likely has a different background. This is understandable. It would be nigh impossible to portray her as she is in the books in live action format--for example, none of the kids in the book suspect she’s a toddler, let alone two years old). However, most changes have all felt reasonable and add to plot and pacing.

I especially enjoy the additions: showing the adult side of the team, for example, or Ms. Perumal’s growing concern about Reynie’s whereabouts, or the girls’ nighttime conversations. Some changes are more extreme. The Mr. Curtain of the books is clearly a villain. He’s condescending and rude, and the only people who like him are bullies. Mr. Curtain of the show is much smoother. It’s easy to see how he’s managed to influence people. Similarly, the L.I.V.E. curriculum is much less obnoxious in the show (not just memorizing nonsense by rote), and as a result, the school’s students seem less stupid and cruel. You can see why they enjoy attendance.

I’m particularly pleased that Number Two’s weirdness has been amplified. Mr. Benedict’s found family is delightfully strange, and I love watching their unusual rhythms. It will be easy to believe when (or if) it’s revealed that the women have been legally adopted into Mr. Benedict’s family.

Similarly, I love how they intensified the quirky feel of the setting and characters. Of course Number Two built a house in the woods in a day because she has a woodworking hobby. Of course there’s secret tunnels and drawers and compartments in Mr. Benedict’s house. Of course Milligan’s disguises and mannerisms are wackily memorable instead of just matter-of-fact. The books themselves have a stylized feel at times (they kind of remind me of Lemony Snickett’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, though with none of the grimness).

I love the overall aesthetic. When I first read the books, they didn’t strike me as being set in the past, but the vaguely vintage feeling works excellently. (I was also a fully grown adult before I realized that the Incredibles wasn’t set in the present, so...) The color schemes, costumes, and sets have distinctive feelings and coordinate well. The effect is stylized rather than naturalistic, which is appropriate and amplifies the tone of the scenes. The bright colors and rough textures of the wooded hideout and its inhabitants’ costumes contrast nicely with the clean lines of tL.I.V.E.’s vintage-pastel interior and sleek exterior.

I also enjoyed the way they did Kate’s flashback as rough home footage. Similarly, I enjoyed the way they showed four kids solving problems on the same screen, how they illustrated Reynie’s thought process with overlaid sketches of the problems, and the way words show up on the screen during the tests for emphasis. The combination of animations, showing multiple things at once, and creative angles for emphasis did a great job conveying the feeling of the tests. (Unfortunately, I lack the vocabulary to describe the techniques they used here).

There’s two things I didn’t enjoy. The first was killing Sticky’s parents to make him an orphan. It mattered in the books that he felt rejected by his own parents. Making it his aunt and uncle who (seemingly) care more about money and fame than the child they’re raising feels a little too much like the wicked stepmother trope. I don’t know why the showmakers decided that Of Course They’re All Orphans, because while most of the book characters are orphans, Sticky isn’t, which serves to show that you can feel rejected and hurt by your parents even when you’ve got an ordinary, non-abusive nuclear family. It’s about feeling isolated, whether or not you’re technically alone.

Secondly, all the wheelchairs have been removed from the adaption. I’m not sure why this was done. Sticky’s mother has bad arthritis and requires a wheelchair. In the books, this was done without fanfare; it was as normal as anything else to oil Ms. Washington’s wheelchair in damp weather, or load and unload it from cars in later books. She was more of a background character, so it didn’t affect the plot, but the casual background representation was a welcome contrast to many books that assume being disabled is strange and uncommon, and that disabilities only exist when they’re plot-significant. The aunt who replaced Ms. Washington used no mobility aids, which disappoints me, especially as the woman she replaces in the books is ultimately shown to be a flawed but loving parent who’s dedicated to making up for her mistakes.

The other person missing their wheelchair is Mr. Curtain, the villain. I’m also not sure why this was removed? It could be to avoid the Evil Disabled Villain trope, but in the book, I didn’t feel like his disabilities were treated as a moral flaw or an excuse for his villainy. He shares his narcolepsy with the unquestionably benevolent Mr. Benedict, so it didn’t feel like his condition was used to vilify him.

He and Mr. Benedict act cope with their condition differently: Mr. Benedict relies on trusted family members for support and chooses to sit on the floor and avoid positioning himself in tall places from which he could fall, whereas Mr. Curtain disguises his narcolepsy by wearing mirrored glasses and using a wheelchair that secures an upright posture, so that no one knows when he has an episode. He does use his wheelchair aggressively, banging through doors and zooming around and forcing people to jog and keep up, but it felt like his use of mobility aids grew naturally from his character.

The books also include a scene where he shocks the children by leaving his wheelchair to chase them. They assumed that using a wheelchair=completely unable to walk, a common view in US society. Importantly, I didn’t feel like the scene was framed as particularly deceptive, like he was lying to them by using a wheelchair when he could walk. Rather, it fit into a pattern of Mr. Curtain managing assumptions and expectations: he doesn’t want people to take advantage of his weaknesses, yet wants to hold a few cards close to his chest. He doesn’t have to lie to people, just let them see and hear and assume what they will.

I don’t use a wheelchair or have narcolepsy, so I’m not in a position to say whether or not the books have good representation. Maybe the fact that Mr. Curtain is evil, and also zooms around and bangs through doors, is uncomfortable. Maybe the fact that his nefarious devices are wheelchair-accessible and in fact designed around his chair sends the wrong message. Maybe using mobility aids to conceal a disability sends a bad message, or maybe it would be better if the good guy was the one to use a wheelchair to cope with his disability. I don’t know. I do know that Mr. Benedict’s condition is played for laughs in both the book and show, and that might be uncomfortable. I do think it’s worth noting that Mr. Benedict’s narcolepsy is seen less and less as funny as the books go on, and grows to be seen as an endearing quality that emphasizes how much he loves people, since his attacks usually underscore with strong emotions and convey worry for his loved ones or joy at their company.

My own sense is that both approaches to narcolepsy make sense, and neither is shown to be inherently faulty. Rather, it’s Mr. Curtain’s character that’s to blame for his villainy--his arrogance, condescension, and mistrust. Both characters feel well-developed and consistent, and their disability is only one part of them. Their disability is colorful, but it’s colorful in the same way as the main characters (Sticky’s anxiety and memory, Kate’s gusto, eye for measurement, and bucket, Constance’s precociousness, etc).

As for why Mr. Curtain’s wheelchair was cut, I’m not sure. Maybe the show writers just didn’t want to deal with the ramifications of depicting a villain in a wheelchair, and decided to cut it altogether (a lazy reason, I think). Alternatively, it seems like they’re depicting narcolepsy without cataplexy, eliminating the need for a wheelchair (a better reason).

On the other hand, Mr. Curtain’s attitude and mannerisms bear the least resemblance to his book counterpart of all the show’s characters. They’re incorporating some backstory from the other books to build a secondary plotline, and I’m not sure how it’s going to play out. From what we’ve seen of him so far, S. Q. Pedalian is also drastically different (shy, cloistered, and openly acknowledged as Mr. Curtain’s son, instead of the gregarious, bumbling, misfit Executive of the books). The TV dynamic between him and Mr. Curtain is largely unrevealed as of yet. Since these changes constitute departures from the book, I’m not sure how the future story’s going to play out around them, and what that reveals about why the wheelchair was cut when it was so characteristic of Mr. Curtain’s mannerisms while other things (like Mr. Benedict’s use of plaid) were included.

Still, it does disappoint me that two wheelchairs were erased, and no one in the show uses one, not even background students.

Overall, though, apart from the orphan and wheelchair situation, I’m very pleased with this adaption and think that the pacing works wonderfully. It’s a near-ideal format for a video adaption (I think animation would be best, but this is a close second).

#the mysterious benedict society #the mysterious benedict society adaption #tv adaption #the mysterious benedict society show #ledroptha curtain

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years

Text

The Whore || John Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “11&19 with John boy? cause I miss him “ (I miss him too, my poor heart aches)

Summary: n.11 & 19 from prompt list: “Please, please, please” + “I’ll burn this fucking place down” Warnings: swearing, a lot of angst, prostitution, nudity, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, misogynistic talk, graphic description of signs of physical abuse

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, this request’s been in my mind for ages, and even though I’m not happy with its final part ‘cause it sucks, I’m literally obsessed with this idea, I love it so much that I’ll probably write a long fic about it, right after Contagio, but it will depend on you babes, because, first and froemost, I need to know what you think about this piece. ⤟ IMPORTANT

Please, if you’re a victim of any kind of abuse, talk to someone who can help you, nobody should go through something like that alone.⤟ IMPORTANT

I edited the gif and added the text, it’s not an actual scene from the show, but I thought it could be a good idea, a small detail that could be added to my works. What do you think about it? Pls, let me hear your opinions babeees ⤟

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham was somehow silent that night, John noticed the unusually empty streets around him, as his feisty pace easily led him towards a well-known destination, his confident steps resounding in between the damp walls of those sordid blocks made of innumerable overcrowded flats. The unmistakable stench of stagnant urine viciously permeated his nostrils, soon causing a disgusted expression to taint his angelic face, while he avidly took the umpteenth drag of smoke from his Cuban cigar and finally stopped his unceasing walk in front of the most renowned brothel in the entire city. For about three years by then, day after day, his life had been perilously circling the drain: things had got totally out of hand, fate had pitilessly thrown him into profound despair, giving life to an apparently endless spiral of darkness and desolation, which was gradually corroding his fragile self, brutally strangling him, rapaciously plundering each of his already strained vital breaths. And, nevertheless, it was beyond hard to blame him for such catastrophic outcomes, after all, he’d scarcely survived the battlefield, only to find himself with a handful of nothing, left alone to deal with a dead wife and four children to raise on his own, while his guts crawled with excruciating grief and ravenous acrimony for the whole world, having him develop a tendency to self-destruction that was just as concerning as it was well concealed. As a matter of fact, in spite of his private hell, he still remained a Shelby, and a Shelby wasn’t meant to be soft, nor weak, none of them could afford to succumb to their affliction, never, not for a moment. They had to be invulnerable.

Or, at least, they had to look invulnerable, for truth was that John was scared, utterly frightened by all those unmerciful changes. Deep inside he felt like a hopeless, undefended child, forsaken by God and discarded to wander that grim world without any destination other than death and misery, thus his blood boiled with virulence and venom, having his heart clench with blind wrath and his devastated young soul desperately long for sort of any distorted kind of unattached affection. That was basically the main reason why his bed was incessantly warm, or more accurately, warmer than it had always been before, because, needless to say, John Shelby had actually been an authentic ladies’ man since his first cry. His stunning beauty constantly teemed on everyone’s lips in Birmingham, there was not a single woman in the whole town who hadn’t dreamt of sleeping with him at least once in her life. Therefore, John was more than happy to please them all, literally, welcoming them with wide open arms, even during his past marriage; and, on those rare times when no girl went to knock on his door, he had now grown accustomed to seek relief into whorehouses, rather than sleep alone and become an easy prey for his ferocious demons.

So he eventually ended up dropping his smouldering cigar on the uneven asphalt of the most rundown place in Small Heath, “Le Belle Donne”, an Italian house of tolerance, quite dilapidated and about to fall to pieces, but which often happened to have his favourite prostitutes. Indeed, ever since the Peaky Blinders had defeated and subjugated Sabini’s clan, they’d occupied a prominent position among the country, to the point that several other Italian gangs on their territory, including the Changrettas who owned that brothel in particular, had finally given in to the Shelbys. As a direct consequence, to put it simply, John and all his brothers had, in a very real sense, earned the full right to abuse of whatever business the wops held.

“Hey, man!” Johnny resonantly barked as he entered the hall, maintaining a pretty intimidating attitude and a menacing look on purpose, in order to strike even greater fear in his newest flunky. “C’mon, show me what you got” That rough order cunningly glided onto his lower lip, immediately followed by his hot tongue, while his famished gaze travelled around the room, examining the face of each harlot standing there with meticulous attention, without however finding something that could come anywhere close to seriously rapture him. Robert Turrini, the whoremaster, was a bizarre bloke, for his physical appearance could be probably described as both disturbing and amusing: his revortingly corpulent stomach wobbled and his short legs dangerously stumbled, when he made haste to stand up and accommodate his toughest client. “Mr. Shelby, what an honour and a pleasure to have you back!” Those sycophant words fled his moist and malodorous mouth, and nonetheless, his stubby fingers inexorably betrayed his true thoughts, since they were either nervously torturing each other or, as only alternative, convulsively running through his greasy, mangy bangs. “Please, sir, follow me, these are for yokels and boozers, nothing to do with gentlemen like yourself” Once again, Turrini’s shrill fawning tone relentlessly grated his ears, making clear reference to the bunch of second-rate whores who could be found at the entrance; thus the lame pimp quickly moved, his hand anxiously beckoning John to tread upon his heels, then headed towards an eerily narrow corridor, so scanty that it was almost impossible to cross, if not walking on the bias. The secret lounge was illuminated only in part by a squalid red light creating a gruesome atmosphere, a dull silence tyrannically reigned into that small space, although you were not alone, but practically glued to another girl; both sitting on a minuscle sofa, your elbows touching, still none of you dared emit a single sound. Everything felt like lead upon your papier-mâché ribcage, that horrible sensation forcing your traumatized brain to involuntarily keep counting the seconds until that heinous burden would’ve potentially staved in your sternum, definitively annihilating your splintered heart. As a result, when the ramshackle door opened and a high-pitched squeak scraped your skin, you really thought to be about to die. Your torturer made his entrance, and right after him, another man came in, yet you couldn’t spot his face, since the peak of his cap designedly casted a mysterious shadow on it. “These two right here, they're real young, real fresh” Robert flaunted his goods along with a nefarious grin, rubbing his soiled paws with evident greed. “Behold the finest offering of flesh and bone on the market” A sadistic snicker repugnantly accompanied his speech, instantly causing John to frown, visibly disgruntled with the way that man deliberately talked about human beings. Luckily, it was a known fact that the middle Shelby was used to treating his women with all due respect: whether he paid them or not, he always made sure they were comfortable with him and never shrank from giving them some good time as well; therefore, a vexed glare was shot in the direction of his gross interlocutor, before his crystalline eyes briefly fluttered around the place, then bumping into your elegant figure almost at once.

Your bloodstream seemed to benumb on the spot as the stranger’s confident stare entangled yours, his rawboned features being now fully displayed, for he had lifted his chin a little in order to properly look at you, and you only, despite Clarissa’s desperate and petulant attempts to get his attention with malicious smiles and ridiculous pet names. Even though your dazed mind had just been ruthlessly brutalized by the sudden, ablaze assault of his glacial irises, a few moments were enough for you to realize how profoundly different he was from all the low-down rats who usually came through that horrible place.

Each sharp, still somehow delicate, trait of his face was brimming with delicious youthfulness, a less keen eye might have even confounded his freshness with actual naivety, but not yours; you were far too clever to make such a coarse mistake. Furthermore, the midnight-blue posh fabric of the classy suit, remarkably folding his majestic body, left gaunt doubt that he was, in all likelihood, a considerably rich man, which was beyond disorientating you, since the price to pay for some tawdry delight in that brothel was outrageously derisory, to say the least. And ultimately, as much as it killed you to conceive it, he was without question one of the most enchanting men you had ever seen, to the point that you found yourself subconsciously wondering the possible reason why a heavenly creature of his kind would’ve needed to buy a miserable hour of dissembled love.

“There she is” That malleable murmur, filled with longing and gratification, furtively sidled past John’s roseate mouth, as its corners seductively bent upwards and his gaze persevered in its praiseworthy commitment to scrupulously linger your finest shape in sheer adoration. Lace and organdy sublimely merged on the light crimson negligee you were wearing, your immaculate form appeared as a beguiling paradox into his dilated pupils, being your long legs lecherously left exposed, while every inch of your porcelain skin, from your lean neck to your groin, was painstakingly disguised by that unholy material, dark and inscrutable, albeit thin enough to allow him to glimpse the inviting turgidity of your nipples. His breath shuddered in awe when he went back to contemplate your aphrodisiac facial features, flushed cheeks and plump lips having him ache with desire, and then your doe eyes flooded by melancholy, strangling his soul with no mercy, entrenching into his brains the treacherous conviction that, at the end of the day, he would’ve gladly dilapidated his fortune, if only to venerate you from afar. “Oi, sweetheart!” His low voice finally rumbled within the walls of that small space, overwhelmingly vibrating into your abdomen, while you forced yourself to swallow the painful lump obstructing your throat and stand up, promptly responding to his command, aware as you had become that rebelling against your pitiable destiny would’ve served no purpose at all. Holding your client’s hand behind your back, but keeping your head down during the whole route, you silently guided him up the spiral staircase to the best room in the house, like you had previously been instructed by your pimp. His jacket and hat were quickly hung on the apposite coat-rack, leaving his muscular top covered with just his white shirt and blue vest, an alluring grin was flashed in your direction and you detected a libidinous sparkle in his irises, as he healed the rift between you at a slow pace. “What should I call you, sweetheart?” He knowingly used the same flattering pet name once more, whispering that barely audible question into your ear, for he was now behind you: his large hands laid around your waist, gently making your back and his vigorous chest fit together, while his skilled mouth brushed forthwith against your nape, drawing an ardent contrail of ephemeral pecks up until your jaw. “Just y/n” You gasped in response, the marked contrast between his warmth and your bitter cold body, along with crippling dread eating you alive, caused your scrambled stomach to squirm and your eyelids to distressingly shut into a frown. “Well, that’s a pretty good one, I’m John, by the way” A lovely, yet hinted giggle fleetingly filled your ears together with that little compliment; there was no record of mockery in his tone, though, it simply sounded like he wanted to be nice to you, without any aspiration of personal gain, and you almost blushed, caught off guard and no longer used to any form of kindness. Nevertheless, it was a matter of instants before another wet, long kiss was pressed on your jawline, making you startle with evident apprehension and, at a later time, definitively back away from him, as soon as you sensed his touch abandoning your hips only to climb your sides, till he reached for your nightgown’s collar and his fingers began to fiddle with its round buttons. “No, I’ll do it!” You curtly gave notice, as you temporarily lost control of both your speech and actions, placing your hands above his in order to shrug them off, then turning to face him with short breath, your open palms shielding you. “I got it” A noticeably softer voice supplanted your preceding rudeness once you gradually metabolised how much damage your incautious reaction could’ve done.

“Aye, aye, darling, as you wish” But John just chuckled, tenderly humouring you, while his forearms jokingly lift in surrender to your commands, although, truth be told, your strange behaviour had left him a bit bewildered, well-nigh confused. Carefully moving backwards, he cockily made himself comfortable on the edge of the double bed, sitting right in front of you with splayed legs, his yearning stare never deflecting from you, and started to unbutton his waistcoat along with his shirt and undershirt, until his statuesque torso was completely nude, in all its glory, as the moon transpired through the curtains and shed its faint rays on his every contour, superbly enhancing all of his muscles.

Without reprieve, he ogled up at you in pure adoration, devastatingly astonished afresh by your dazzling beauty, eager to feel your afire flesh around his, literally hanging on your every word or move, while a provocative smirk steadily rippled his lips. Still, he kept questioning why a seraphic vision like you was slowly withering away in that authentic hell on heart, adamantly squandering your blush of youth amidst that rabble of unrestrained putridity. It made absolutely no sense, and he couldn’t get rid of that pernicious thought haunting his mind ever since he had first seen you: you looked nervous, extremely defensive, almost paralyzed with fear; you seemed so different from all the whores he’d had before, hence his instincts, however obfuscated with cupidity, were screaming that something was wrong. And when he watched you turn your back on him again, so to avoid his penetrating gaze as you reluctantly got undressed, it was enough for him to understand that his execrable hunch was right. Nevertheless, by the time his head managed to eventually reconnect to his mouth, it was already too late, the soft textile of your nightdress ineluctably fell to your feet, leaving you naked under his starving leer.

John choked on his own breath; for the very first time, he felt like a fledgling kid at his earliest experience, no matter if nothing could be further form the truth, in some turbid, cryptic way, you were able to make him vulnerable. His craw went hellishly dry while he continued to gape at you in awe, the sinuous curves of your flawless glutes, the meandering line of your superlatively arched back covered in part by your soft hair, your tensed shoulders and your refined legs, everything about you caused his mind to go entirely black, words stifling in his throat. Yet, as soon as you moved to face him and his sight was blessed with the full view of your voluptuous figure, something altered the light in his cerulean eyes, suddenly making it dark and gloomy. His jaw slightly dropped under the weight of that violent dismay: in conjunction, an obnoxious sense of nausea cruelly shot him in the gut and blind anger virulently assailed him, for your front bust was completely martyrized.

“What the hell...” That unmeant babble died in the gelid air, his shocked orbs demarcating the strokes of your damaged silhouette: your neck and collarbone were horridly plastered with several violet fingerprints, as if someone had mercilessly strangled you over and over, greenish bruises with the shape of full palms circled both your arms, there were conspicuous signs of ligature around your tiny wrists. Worse still, his eyelids had to squeeze a little in order to bring into focus the multiple oxblood dots stigmatizing your soft breasts, until he noticed in horror how those round specks were effectively cigarettes burns; all of the oxygen bluntly withdrew from his lungs, when he dwelled on the multiple blue and black marks barbarically desecrating the protuberances of your ribs. But what irremediably drove him over the edge were the two ghastly scars digging stretched grooves in your lower stomach, in parallel with your bulging pelvic bones and down almost to your livid groin.

Prey of that deleterious humiliation, you observed raw disgust contaminating his features and, with no apparent reason, the dormant hatred you had for yourself began to ferment inside your belly. “I-I’m sorry” you forced yourself to swallow your imminent tears, unexpectedly, the awareness of not being able to please him somehow inflicted more suffering on your mangled soul “If I’m not to your taste, y-you can...” The young man quickly stood up and, before you had the chance to finish your nonsensical sentence, he readily grabbed his shirt, approaching you with dispatch, his cold irises burning with an implausible mixture of fury and concern. “I don’t fucking care right now” His voice was unsteady, rolling down his tongue in fatigued panting, as his hands hastened to wrap his shirt around your shoulders, his trembling fingers struggling to put the buttons through the eyelets “Who did this to you?” In truth, he was talking to himself rather than with you, noticeable impatience worsening his mad tone, yet you persistently steered clear of his inquiring look, more than determined to keep your mouth shut, forasmuch as your dizzy head was already helplessly spinning, along with your heart rabidly hammering against your sore ribcage. You were having a hard time figuring out what was going on, everything around you was so confused, you didn’t even know whether to trust him or not, you only wanted to close your eyes and forget about that lucid nightmare. “I’m not asking you, for fuck’s sake! Tell me who it was!” That searing order tersely brought you back to reality and cleared how easily his rash temper could reemerge; indeed, all of a sudden, no trace was left of that kind, cheerful boy who earlier that night had succeeded in making you genuinely blush, on the contrary, when he cupped your cheeks and vehemently shook you, in a desperate effort to get your attention, his rough, authoritative command unbendingly hit you, and the sweet child within him ended up being thoroughly smothered by the scary, ruthless gangster that he truly was. That unforeseen contact had your feet automatically stagger backwards, your eyes fell to your tiptoes and your teeth started skewering your lower lip, while your exhausted brain resorted to its last ounce of strength, thereby obligating you to spit out a bit of your sorrow. “Three months ago, the man I once called father sold me to settle one of his debts with the Italians” Your thorax seemed to shrink to the point of absurdity once you became aware that it was essentially the first time you allowed yourself to say it all out loud. However, the presence of that compassionate stranger still represented for you a substantial barrier to surmount, leading your unquiet glance to franticly move from the grime on the floor, to the broken window on your left, anywhere, but never daring to meet his. “ I tried to run away, I swear I did, but they always caught me and-”

A large knot callously plugged the bottom of your palate, causing you to hesitate for a minute, gently rubbing your own arms, in attempt to comfort yourself . “Robert has a short fuse, he g-gets pretty brutal when you don’t cooperate” Those disenchanted considerations carried an involuntary grin, it was nothing more than a spasm, but hid the unmistakable sign of an imminent cry, and John’s attentive irises certainly did not let it go unnoticed, yet he chose to stay quiet, because the last thing he would’ve wanted in that crucial moment was to scare you even more. “He beat me to death, each time harder than the time before, and then he let those men-... He-e kept me tied to that bed for days to teach me a lesson” Copious tears were now unremittingly streaming down your flushed face, your heart aching with raw affliction, preventing you from breathing properly, one of your palms instinctively went to cover the space between your breasts, in a vain whirl to ease that excruciating grief. “Oh, God” John simply sighed, he was precariously theetering on the verge of tears as well, thick veins untamedly pumped in the proximity of his temples, till his solid shape ruinously keeled over the longest side of the bed, his elbows piercing his own thighs, as he hid behind his clenched fists and finally permitted himself to indulge a couple of muffled sobs. Innumerable atrocities had clouded his eyes and soul during his brief life, he himself was capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty, still, that was absolutely intolerable, hearing your story was taking a terrible toll on him. Try as he might, he couldn’t conceive how somebody could have been so hopelessly evil, to abuse in such a heinous way a defenseless creature as pure as you were. That thought was irretrievably disturbing him, rancorously eroding his bowels, almost depriving him of his sanity.

“U-until I stopped fighting them” Your last, indescribably anguished whisper struck the fatal blow, it unrelentingly plunged into his chest, sending an unbearable jolt of pain through his poisoned veins. For a brief instant, his expression, together with yours, harshly turned into a mask made of neat despair, as if your synapsis had been ravelled and both of you were enduring the exact same ache, at the exact same moment.

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Then, all at once, something apopletic inside him violently detonated, he berserkly stood up, roughly tripping over the beside table and everything placed on it. “Fucking kill that filthy bastard with my own two hands, bloody hell!” His hoarse yells made your bruised skin cringe and his furious steps covered the whole length of the room in the space of a scant minute; he was literally seething with murderous fits of rage, teeth grinding with irrepressible choler. “No!” your desperate voice erupted afresh and you hurried to reach for him, your hands unconsciously enveloping his cheekbones “Please, please, John, please, stop!” For the first time, his name slipped out of your aching throat in between those pathetic pleads, your wrists forced him to look at you, in attempt to dissuade him from his homicidal purposes; the mere thought of the potential disastrous consequences to his calamitous ire totally asphyxiated you, rampant panic assaulted your frail mind and, soon after, you found yourself hyperventilating and simultaneously rambling a bunch of incoherent words, your fingers gradually tightening their grip on him. “He’s gonna get so angry at me, he’s gonna- he-he’s...” “I’m a fucking Shelby, he does not draw a damn breath unless I say so” He firmly grabbed your chin with just two of his fingers, guiding your depleted pupils to entirely focus on his confident stare, and he growled that undisputable fact a span away from your nose. Petrified by that new awareness, you fell utterly silent, only gawking in his direction, while he put his undershirt back on with ease and rapidly grasped his cap. “Just stay here, do you hear me? Don’t move until I come back” An incandescent kiss was impulsively pressed to your forehead, no other words were spent, before he disappeared behind the door of your private hell. When your persecutor saw his special guest unyieldingly storming towards his desk with a truculent expression exuding fervent disappointment, he jumped on his feet, ready to find a solution to whatever problem had possibly arisen; one thing was sure, he never would’ve guessed what was about to happen. “Mr. Shelby, what’s wron-” John’s fist savagely collided with his jaw, nipping his cloying speech in the bud, without giving Turrini a second to process what was going on, another punch pitilessly smote him, and then another one, and then another, until hot, plenteous blood gushed from his multiple wounds. “You son of a bitch” Animalistic groans left his rabid maws, sheer hate rushing through his brains, as he violently tossed him to the ground, immediately beginning to kick his torso with all of his brute force. “Mercy! I beg of you, sir, have mercy!” His victim’s prayers and harrowing screams barely titillated his ears, everything he could think about was your tragically marred body, hence an unbridled desire to give him a taste of his own medicine completely took over. “Where was your mercy when you were torturing her?” Expertely holding his hat in the most efficient way, in a fury, John went down on his sacrificial lamb, promptly disfiguring just one side of his face, in order to take a quite theatrical pause from his wicked work.

“When she was imploring you to stop?” Robert was now crying out loud, overwhelmed by that merciless agony, reduced to just invoke the glacial scynt of death, since nothing in his entire miserable existence had ever caused him more intense pain, than the coarse perception of a finely sharpened razorblade brutishly lacerating his flesh once more, inch by inch.

“Now bend your ear to this” despite his wrenching laments, John rudely lift him up by seizing the blood stained collar of his jacket “if anyone else but me goes near her fucking room again, I’ll burn this fucking place down!” And with that first, deadly threat the pimp’s head was brutally slammed into the wall, an umpteenth whine of contrition escaping his mouth filled with blood, nevertheless, no time was left for redemption.

“You lay a finger on her again” his skull was doggedly crashed into the bricks once again, a crimson spatter smeared the pale plaster covering them “I will break your neck” John’s knuckles clasped, having his red right hand effectively strenghten its hold on his neck, nearly killing him on the spot. However, fortunately for the whoremaster, Johnny would’ve not put an end to his sufferings, nor he could've simply taken you away, deep inside, he knew he needed to discuss it with his family, first and foremost, with Thomas, for the unstable equilibrium reached by the Peaky Blinder was far too fragile to start a new war against the Italians. Thus, with great difficulty, he forced himself to keep his mind clear and put a lid on his beastly instinct. “From now on, no one of you dirty swines is allowed to even look at her” Throwing him to the floor, the middle Shelby delivered one last kick straight to his fat abdomen, and disrespectfully spit on him, marking with his salt slaver the end of his brutalized prey’s calvary. “By order of the Peaky Blinders” As soon as the crackling door snapped open, your heart seemed to explode, your eyelids bolted with pure fear, whilst you pulled your knees closer to your clavicles, an ancient prayer lingering your lips together with heavy breaths, as you prepared for the worst. But the worst never came. “Y/n, hey, calm down. It’s all right” John’s husky voice echoed in your ears, and, you could’ve sworn it, that was, without the slightest doubt, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Your head abruptly tilted in his direction, an oxymoric mixture of fear and hope twinkling into your watery irises, deep pants still rocking your tiny self. “It’s me, it’s just me” Keeping his arms up to indicate his innocuous purpose, he carefully approached you. Almost immediately, you noticed the several scarlet handprints staining his pale top, eloquent sign that he had tried to wipe his palms on that ivory material as best as he could. Yet, you were so profoundly relieved to see his friendly face, that, to be honest, the sight of fresh blood didn’t upset you at all. It was like you had fallen into a fugue state, every single thing around you was so distant, your numb senses were only able to concentrate on John’s lean silhouette kneeling in front of you. “ No one will hurt you anymore, darling” his hands gently went to caress your thighs, while his worried gaze tirelessly sought yours and he spoke those soft, reassuring words “You need to trust me”. And you did want to put all of your faith in that young man. His delicate flair easily awakened you from that ostensible slumber, building a rousing fire inside your belly; without a thought about your unforeseen actions, you threw your arms around his strong neck, your knees producing a dry sound as they collided with the wooden pavement, still you didn’t care and you held him tight, letting out loud cries and drowning into his muscular chest, finally revelling in the feeling of that warm embrace. Soon, he entangled his callous fingers with your velvety locks, subconsciously narrowing his solid shoulders, as to shield your frangible figure from the outside world. “I'll get you out of here soon, I promise”

tag list: @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @stassaurus, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest, @vxxn128, @keithseabrook27, @spaghettirogers, @writingstudent, @hp-hogwartsexpress

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unnursvanablog · 3 years

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Many things are happening today; Adele's new album just dropped, the second season of The Great is here, Hellbound dropped on netflix and I am about 5000 words away from winning Nanowrimo. And amongst all of that excitement amazon dropped the first three episodes of The Wheel of Time. And out of all of these things I decided to watch The Wheel of Time first (in between nano sprints).

The first episode does suffer a bit from info dumping and pacing issues as the show really tries to cram in the whole setup of the story, with the dragon reborn, and the introduction to the characters. Which is something I really did expect, but I also found it a bit jarring at times as we jumped from one scene to the next.

There was a lot of mentioning of this thing or this character and then we were rushed to the next scene where that character was or zooming in on object so we could see a symbol or something as a hint that it this is going to be really important later on and all of that. Lot of jumping around It defiantly could have flown a bit better. Had some smoother transitions between some of these scenes.

Some great scenes in there as well and I feel like the have all of the characters down. It's just those little character moments that I just wish I could have had a bit longer. Let them linger a bit. I just wanted longer scenes with some of them.

I liked all of the Moiraine and Lan scenes where probably my favorite. Loved the scenes with them in the bath (I don't ship them btw) and also Moiraine and Nynaeve. Can you tell which ones are my favorite so far (at least where I am in the books).

I do get or understand the the rush, because the Eye of the World is a big book (as are all the Wheel of Time books) and there are only eight episodes to tell it all. But it definitely could have let the story breath a little bit. I think if we had just ended the episode right when the Trollocs came into town we might have had more time to breath and flow between all of this setup of the characters.

I get we might not have had the great Moiraine monologue about the turning of the wheel and all of that or the first big battle scene (which felt a bit clunky to my eyes, but it also had it's moments) to draw people in. But I think it might have had good enough cliffhanger for get people curious.

On the surface level this show doesn't do much (yet) to differentiate itself from a lot of other high fantasy stories. This is very classic high fantasy.

It has a dark evil force looming around, it has people with magic and swords, it had people from a small village who are destined to be something big (and maybe even bad) just like every other murder mystery has a similar premise. And although the Wheel of Time does start of that way (in the books as well) it is very purposeful and as we get further into the story it manages to bring it's own flare into that very well told tale.

I will not stand for some 'this is a ripoff of game of thrones' nonsense though. It's not a GOT ripoff just because it's a fantasy story. And I think this show does do a good job making this show not feel like GOT. I never got that feeling from it. This feels way more fantasy in the same way Lord of the Rings feels fantasy than Game of Thrones was. This also does not feel like Europe in the middle ages just with dragons and some magic... which is what Game of Thrones sort of was. Martin wanted that story to feel almost grounded in reality while Jordan leaned into more fantasy elements. The Wheel of Times is not set in Europe in the middle ages. Or it does not feel like that to me.

Both high fantasy with magic and swords. Very different feelings and vibes. I feel like The Wheel of Time sort of feels like it's not totally YA fantasy with it's colors and some of the special effects but not totally adult, gritty, grim-dark that people sort of associate this type of high fantasy show to be after GOT became such a hit. And Witcher. But I don't think Witcher and GOT have the same vibe ether. But then again I am a huge fantasy fan. Some people just see dragons, period clothing, swords and magic and think every damn fantasy show is the same.

I really enjoyed the first episode, despite it's hiccups with pacing and just feeling a bit rushed. But there is some fun fantasy elements here and even if this feels like very well told tale that I have seen and read a lot I do find the characters interesting and fun. I like fantasy and these types of stories a lot, and I have read the book (and I have started the second one) so the excitement to see certain scenes on the screen makes me really excited to see how they tackle them.

I am excited what the show can do with this stuff out of the way (introductions are super hard) and when it sort of finds it's feet a bit more and the right pacing. It just needs to find it's groove.

#The Wheel of Time #first impressions

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just-the-mage · 3 years

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Review-Love Death + Robots (Pt 1. Episodes 1-4)

So here we are again. You, dear readers, and I, a mostly defunct tumblr page. I was thinking...I’ve written a few reviews on here before, and I’ve rather enjoyed myself to be honest. So until RP starts up again for me, I’m going to grab some popcorn and start reviewing some of the media I’ve been indulging in during this exceptionally fun pandemic we’ve all been saddled with (and are becoming increasingly more and more used to as time goes on). Here we go!

Spoilers incoming! I don’t like to discuss a show without going through it entirely-no stone unturned. You have been warned!

Love Death + Robots is a compilation series-each episode is self-contained content, based on what I have experienced thus far. The content varies wildly from cute and sweet to surreal, to horrific. For right now I’m going to stick with the first four episodes since they are fresh in my mind.

Episode 1: Three Robots

Three robots shows a short adventure shared by, you guessed it-Three robots exploring the crumbling remains of human society. It comes across as three tourists making their way through an area that they are completely unfamiliar with, attempting to define and understand elements of the environment as humans once did. Their analysis and attempts to understand not only human culture, but also basic human biology, were entertaining to say the least. Each robot has flair, character, and a their own take on humans and humanity. Over the course of the episode, the fall of mankind is referenced a few times, being initially explained as a mass extinction due to environmental disasters (global warming is probably a factor-one of the buildings has an entire ship sticking out of it). However, the twist ending throws that whole theory into question once the cat that has been accompanying the robots for the last leg of their journey reveals itself as capable of speech. And, interestingly enough...being in possession of opposable thumbs. It was certainly unexpected, and a bit odd-the cat (and its many, many brethren) manage to finish out the episode by convincing the robots that if the robots do not pet them, the cats may explode. I will say that the ending, though it was rather silly and fitting with the tone, felt like an out of place twist intended mostly to give a bit of closure to a story that had no real need to have an ending. It felt a little out-of-left field, at least to me.

This first episode, I think, is one that I could recommend to a much more general audience than almost all of the other content of the show. It’s whimsical and cute, despite inhabiting such a grim setting (and grim it is-post apocalyptic is not taken lightly here. There are plenty of corpses, some skeletal and some not quite so much. At least one of them appears to have died by suicide). I found it to be a nice addition and a good introduction to ease people into the tone of the show. Definitely give this one a watch, even if the ending sort of comes from nowhere.

Episode 2: Beyond the Aquila Rift

This episode was definitely a change of pace from the first. It begins as a high science fiction story starring a hunky, middle aged man and his two crewmates, making some sort of cargo run (?) through a wormhole of some kind, but promptly finding themselves in a completely different place from what they expected. Hunky space captain wakes up first, finding that he is greeted by an old friend (read: lover) of his, who explains that there was a navigation error that led them off course-way off course. They’re in a completely different area than they expected. The ship’s navigator wakes as well, swearing that there couldn’t have been an error in her calculations, but seems ill and is placed back in her future tech cryopod to rest. Space captain man then bangs it out with his ex-lover (Greta) in a scene that was almost definitely written by a man, and she reveals to him that she lied, and that him and his crew are actually hundreds of light-years further off course than they had thought they were, basically dashing any hopes that he could have of returning to his old life. The two then wake the navigator again, who immediately starts ranting that ‘Greta’ isn’t who she says she is. At this point, enough clues have been given that the captain catches up with the audience (it was all a simulation the whole time), and he confronts Greta, demanding that she reveal herself as she truly is. She does, after some prodding-and the captain finds himself in an infested husk of a ship, aged and haggard, obviously dying of starvation. Greta reveals herself as a lovely spider-beast, and the captain wakes up from his pod again-back in his comfortable illusion once more.

I love the premise of this one. Crazy aliens and shit like this is a huge draw for me-sci-fi horror is probably my favorite subgenre of horror when it’s done well. I would count this episode as doing it pretty well. They don’t go into much techno-babble, which I think is a pitfall for some sci-fi stories. The writers are well aware that we aren’t spending too long in this world, so we don’t need to know much about the rules under which it operates outside of ‘computer mistake your ship fly here.’ The twist ending didn’t end up being too much of a twist-in my opinion there were too many clues given throughout the episode to make it that much of a surprise that things weren’t as they seemed. The odds of this man meeting his ex-lover in the infinitesimal reaches of space just by chance were a bit too impossible to make it believable-and the navigator was far too convinced that her work couldn’t be incorrect. In the end, it was an expected twist, but still pretty jarring. Execution is pretty good overall though-and the sex scene is pretty decent as well, even if its strictly a dude-fantasy thing. Also, call me a sucker for cool looking beasties, but I adore the design on spider-Greta. That’s a lady right there for you.

Episode 3: Ice Age

The only live action episode I’ve seen so far-this one gives an *entirely* different tone than the majority of the other episodes in the series. Topher Grace and Mary Elizabeth Winstead happen upon a lost civilization that exists entirely within their refrigerator. They watch in awe as it develops incredibly quickly-hundreds of years passing within the civilization in roughly an hour or so of real time. What starts in the morning as a town in the viking ages eventually develops into a modern society, almost destroys itself with nukes, and then rebuilds from the ashes into a fully futuristic society that quickly ascends beyond physical form, appearing to disperse itself into the cosmos, no longer bound by such petty rules as the laws of physics. A disappointed Topher asks if they’ll return-to which he receives a sad ‘no’ from his partner. It seems all is lost, and the couple go to bed for the night-only to find that the cycle has restarted overnight, and they probably won’t be able to keep any frozen chicken in the freezer for quite some time.

This one is probably one of my favorites of the series so far. It’s fairly well acted, but the real beauty of the episode is getting to watch the mini-civilization develop itself in a glorious time lapse-the work that must’ve gone into it must have been monumental, to be honest. The final product certainly felt that way, in any case. What I also found fascinating was a specific scene in which the protagonists were abandoned in place of some of the tiny denizens of the lost civilization-which made me realize exactly how slow the ‘normal sized people’s’ actions must have looked to the diminutive people of this rapidly developing society. Reminiscent of the earth’s motion in relation to our own perception-and reinforcing the concept that to an individual, perception is everything.

Episode 4: Sonnie’s Edge

This episode opens with three people transporting mysterious cargo into a heavily guarded complex, quickly encountering and interacting with a ‘bigwig’ of sorts with a beautiful woman on his arm. Through context clues the audience is easily able to discover that the three (pictured above) are here for a fight-and that their cargo is their fighter, a living creature of obviously immense proportion. The bigwig asks the team to throw the fight, and they refuse, even after he offers a large amount of money. (It’s worth mentioning that during this scene, ‘Sonnie’, the leader and controller of the beast fighter, shares an EXTREMELY homosexual gaze with the bigwig’s beautiful lady friend. Don’t think I didn’t notice the setup, because I definitely noticed the payoff, even though it was rudely interrupted). Sonnie and her teammates enter the ring, setting up as it appears that she will be piloting her fighter in some way. Her opponent is also introduced, though he is hardly important in the story-imagine a cake of beef with a big sticker on him that says ‘mysogyny’ in bold print. What follows is one of the most brutal fight scenes I’ve seen in animation (this is just my personal opinion though). These creatures fucking tear each other to shreds, with Sonnie’s beast only just barely emerging as the victor, tearing the opposing fighter’s head clean from its body. The bigwig is obviously angry, as is Sonnie’s opponent, and Sonnie and her team retires to a hotel room of sorts, with the exception of Sonnie-who slips away into the room that houses her fighter, promptly encountering the beauty from earlier! (Payoff time)..and it gets gay. Fast. I love me some wlw content, and there’s some nice tension here, right up until the beauty stabs Sonnie through the head. Rude. The bigwig reveals himself, which was a bit of a surprise-the part of me that hadn’t seen much of this show yet was hoping for a fluffy little happy ending. It wasn’t to be though..after the beauty crushes Sonnie’s skull, the two promptly realize that ‘Sonnie’ wasn’t Sonnie at all-just some biotech. The *real* Sonnie...was the fighter, the whole time. Who promptly makes short work of both the beauty and the bigwig, (implied), in what I can only describe as the most satisfying moment in the series that I’ve seen thus far.

This was easily my favorite episode of the show, and has continued to be, and I assume will continue to be my favorite through the rest of the series. It’s not just because of the lesbian rep (my people!), or the misogynists getting fucking destroyed, but the strength of the reveal, the choreography of the fight scene, and the *power* of the protagonist. I love her. I love her sooo much. We are seamlessly introduced into the world, shown a woman who has been beaten, scarred, faced sexual abuse, and she remade herself into a being of pure power. She fought back, and *look how she fights back*. I cannot describe just how much of a cheer-worthy moment it was to watch the smug smile be summarily wiped from the face of the bigwig. I *love* seeing a villain who has full confidence in their victory suddenly realize that they don’t have the upper hand anymore...and that they are, in fact, absolutely screwed. This was one of those wonderful, wonderful moments, and I can think of nobody more deserving than this villain of being torn to shreds. This was an A+ episode for sure-100% recommend this one for anyone who can handle a bit of gore.

Thank you so much for reading! This is only part 1...more to come!

#ooc #not ffxiv #review #show review #tv show review #love death and robots #love #death #robots #animation #sonnie's edge #ice age #beyond the aquila rift #three robots #wlw #lesbian

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Why Tom Holland Was Terrified of Playing a Bank Robber in Cherry

https://ift.tt/3aIcnLv

All of a sudden Tom Holland is everywhere. He’s got two movies out right now–the sci-fi thriller Chaos Walking and the drug/crime drama Cherry–and the latter is making its premiere on Apple TV+ this weekend after a limited run in theaters. He also recently wrapped production on the long-developing adaptation of the Uncharted video game franchise, and he’s currently working with director Jon Watts again on their third standalone Spider-Man adventure together, Spider-Man: No Way Home.

In Cherry, based on the best-selling semi-autobiographical novel by Nico Walker, Holland stars as the title character, a young Cleveland man who joins the Army after his girlfriend (Ciara Bravo) announces she is going away to college. He returns home from Iraq with PTSD, develops an opioid addiction, and eventually turns to bank robbery to support his habit.

The often harrowing film is directed by Anthony and Joe Russo, making it the first motion picture directed by the Cleveland-born brothers since 2019’s Avengers: Endgame. Cherry marks Holland’s fourth collaboration with the Russos, following Endgame, Captain America: Civil War (2016), and Avengers: Infinity War (2018), but his first time working with them without a superhero costume.

Cherry is also one of two recent movies, the other being last year’s grim The Devil All The Time, in which the British actor steps away from his generally sunny, innocent demeanor to take on a darker, more tormented character. We touched on that, working with the Russos, researching the world of addiction, and more–including little nuggets on No Way Home and Uncharted–when we hopped on Zoom recently with the young Mr. Holland.

Den of Geek: What did you respond to in the character of Cherry, as well as the script? What was your emotional and visceral response to his story?

Tom Holland: I think my initial response was that I was terrified of the idea of playing this character. It’s the type of role I’ve definitely never done before, and I was a little sort of apprehensive and questioned whether I could do it. Knowing that the Russo brothers were going to be there to support me through the job is what kind of tipped me over the edge into saying yes. But my initial response was, “I don’t think I’m the right person for this job because I don’t know if I can do that.”

You probably had a level of trust established with the Russos from working on the three Marvel pictures you did together. Did that make you feel comfortable right away?

Yeah. Absolutely. Still, I had that element of awe when it came to the Russos because they were the directors of the Avengers films, and I was still very much the new kid on the block when I was making those films. It was really nice for me to get to know them both on a more personal level and, obviously, that level of trust grew as the film progressed. It grew and it grew and it grew, and it’s now to the point where Joe and Anthony could ring me up, and I would be on set for them in a heartbeat. The trust between the three of us definitely grew.

How is their style of directing different on this? Was there more of a personal rapport because of the fact that they’re not dealing with the same kind of visual effects as in the Marvel movies or servicing 50 different characters?

I felt a little spoiled to be honest, because I was getting their utmost attention. But I mean, their direction style didn’t change in the way that they spoke to people, in the way that they addressed people, in the way that they treated people on set. But the style in which they would use the camera or the way they would get you to portray or work in a certain scene is very different because, obviously, it’s a very different type of film.

But from a logistical standpoint of how they made the film, they were basically the same two guys, just having fun. It’s nice to see two people who are so in love with cinema just having a good old play and figuring it out as they go along.

Was it interesting and maybe refreshing for you to do a film where you’re not in the Spider-Man suit for so much of the movie, and you’re not acting against a green screen?

Absolutely. Working on green screen and blue screens and wearing a spandex Spider-Man suit is amazing, and it’s awesome and I love it, but there’s something freeing about everything on set is what is in the shot, what is in the story. I don’t have to imagine anything, because everything is a tangible asset and is right there in front of me. It’s a different process, and I love both equally. But it was nice to kind of have a change of pace and dive into something a little bit smaller.

How was it working with Ciara on her first feature film? Was it easy to establish the rapport with her?

We were so lucky with Ciara. I remember when I watched her audition tape, when the boys had cast her, and they sent it to me just to say, “By the way, this is the girl who’s going to play Emily,” for the first time in my career, I was so intimidated. She just has this gravitas that she brought to the character in her take that was so amazing.

I was really excited to work with her and I was really happy when I found out that her and I were very similar and had a lot in common. We became very, very good friends, which was so valuable for us, because this film was such a difficult film to make, physically and emotionally. The fact that we got along so well meant that we could help each other through the process. She was like my emotional support person, and I was hers, and it was great. We were a little team.

Do you take a role like this, or something like The Devil All the Time, knowing that these are going to not just challenge you as an actor, but show a whole different side of you to an audience that maybe only knows you as Spider-Man?

I love playing Spider-Man, and I think it comes with its own set of challenges. I think sometimes people overlook that superhero films do require performance, a character arc, building up a backstory, an objective of where you want to go. It’s just these films are very different. They’re very different in style, but they’re not very different in the way that you make them. The process of making a film is pretty similar. They just spend less money, and it’s less blue screen. But, yeah. I enjoyed the sort of creative freedom of making a film a little bit darker.

Marvel’s WandaVision and What’s Next for the MCU

By Jim Dandy

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Season 2 Is Unlikely, Anthony Mackie Confirms

By Alec Bojalad

Did you get to meet and talk with Nico Walker? I know you did meet with some people with addiction problems, as well as some veterans.

I’ve never actually met with Nico. We were supposed to meet a few weeks ago, but for some reason, our schedules kind of got a bit jumbled up, and we couldn’t get together. But I hope to meet him. He’s obviously the one person that I’m really nervous about watching the film, because we took a portion of his life, and we turned it into this piece of art, and I hope it’s something that he likes.

But we did loads of research when it came to speaking to veterans and people suffering from PTSD and substance abuse, and it was so valuable in the making of this film, because I couldn’t have made this an authentic experience for the audience without having that information from those people. I’m very grateful that the men and women I spoke to were very open to talk about the things that they’d been through, which were sometimes very harrowing.

What did you learn that maybe you hadn’t known before and were able to apply to the part?

Wow. I could go on and on. I think one of the biggest things for me that helped drive a lot of the motivation in the scene was that once you’re hooked on heroin, all you can think about is getting more heroin. It was a really good kind of catalyst to tell these stories authentically. I think that was one of the most valuable things I took away from my research.

What was the most physically challenging aspect of the shoot?

The most physically demanding portion of the film was dope life, when I was losing all the weight, and I was skinny, and I was having to starve myself. And robbing the banks was tiring, because I was so weak from being so skinny and frail, I guess. So that would easily be the more physically demanding aspect of the film.

Apple TV+

You also play this character as he ages over 15 years. Is it fair to say this is the first time you’ve actually played a character who’s aged over that kind of span of time?

Absolutely. On The Lost City of Z, a James Gray film I did, there was quite a large progression in age, but I was no way the lead of that film. A lot of my stuff sort of happened off camera. Obviously in Cherry, you are with this character from the beginning to the end. That meant that I had to do a lot of the growing on screen, and it was difficult. It was tricky, because trying to play older, to me, felt very fake. That’s where I was so lucky to have my amazing makeup artist, Rachael Speke. She did a wonderful job of aging me up throughout the course of the film.

It was difficult, and I just had to trust the Russos and that they knew what they wanted and they were happy with what they were getting. But it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do.

Is that something that you would like to apply to other characters? As you continue to play Spider-Man, would you like to see him age a little more noticeably, if it’s appropriate?

Yeah. Peter Parker is a character that everyone knows and loves. It would be really interesting to sort of find a side to him that people haven’t seen before. Whether or not we do that, I don’t know.

What can you say about Spider-Man: No Way Home in terms of how it expands the MCU and how it evolves Peter’s character?

Well, there’s not really much I can say, obviously. What I can say is that I’m having the time of my life making it. It’s so fun being back with Jacob [Batalon] and Zendaya, and [director] Jon Watts. The film is incredibly ambitious, and I’m delighted to say that we’re succeeding in making it. It’s going really well. We watched a fight scene that we had shot a few weeks ago, and I’ve never seen a fight scene quite like it in the MCU. I’m really excited for audiences to see that.

You also just recently wrapped Uncharted. What do you think people will see in that if they’re not fans of the video game?

Well, an interesting idea and one that I really think lends itself to our film, is that when you watch a video game film–if you’re a fan of the games–I often wonder, “Why would you watch the film?” Because it’s less immersive. You can go and be that character. Why would I just want to watch that character?

But what we’ve got is we’re telling the prequel story of how the character, Nathan Drake, became this worldwide known character. For the fans that love the games, they’re getting an aspect of the story that they’ve never seen before. And the people that haven’t played the games are getting a really nice introduction to a character. It kind of works for everyone.

It’s a really fun film, and the action is amazing, easily some of the coolest action I’ve done so far. I had a lovely chat with Tom Rothman, the chairman of Sony, he saw the film, and he’s over the moon with it. If the boss man is happy, then everyone is happy. We’re really good.

Cherry premieres on Apple TV+ on Friday, March 12.

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anhed-nia · 4 years

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BLOGTOBER 10/17/2020: SPOOKIES

What do we watch, when we watch movies? This question was sparked by my SOV experience with the very different, and differently interesting BLOODY MUSCLE BODYBUILDER FROM HELL and HORROR HOUSE ON HIGHWAY 5. Within the Shot On Video category, one can find inventive homemade features that are driven entirely by blood, sweat, and the creators' feeling of personal satisfaction. The results are sometimes fascinating, in their total alienation from the conventions and techniques of mainstream filmmaking, and after all, one rarely sees anything whose primary motivation is passion, here in the late stages of capitalism. But, all this talk about what goes on behind the camera points to a discrepancy in how we consume different kinds of production. The typical mode of consumption is internal to the movie: What happens in it? Do you relate to the characters? Are you able to suspend your disbelief, to experience the story on a vicarious level? One hardly needs to come up with examples of films that invite this style of viewing. Alternatively, we can experience the movie as a record of a time and place in which real people defied conventions and sometimes broke laws in order to produce a work of art. SOV production is usually viewed through this lens, where the primary interest is not the illusory content, but the filmmakers' sheer determination to create. We find some overlap in movies like EVIL DEAD, which simultaneously presents a terrifying narrative, and evidence of what a truly driven team can create without the aid of a studio, or any real money to speak of. See also, Larry Cohen's New York City-based horror films, in which a compelling drama with great acting can exist side by side with phony but beautiful effects, and exciting stories of stolen footage that would be dangerous or impossible to attempt today. I'm thinking about these different modes of consumption now because I just watched SPOOKIES, a legitimately cursed-seeming film whose harrowing production history has superseded whatever people think about what it shows on the screen. The lovingly composed blu-ray from Vinegar Syndrome includes a feature-length documentary that attempts to explain the making of the film--which is accompanied by its own feature length commentary track by documentarists Michael Gingold and Glen Baisley. The very existence of this artifact suggests a lot about the nature of this movie, in and of itself. The truth behind its existence is as funny as it is tragic.

I'm not going to do a whole breakdown of the tortured origins of SPOOKIES, which is much better told by the aforementioned documentary. To summarize: Once upon a time in the mid 1980s, filmmakers Brendan Faulkner, Thomas Doran and Frank Farel conspired to make a fun, flamboyant rubber monsterpiece called TWISTED SOULS. It was wild, ridiculous, and transparently fake-looking, but it was loved by its hard-working creators; as a viewer, that soulful sense of joy can rescue many a "bad" movie from its various foibles. Then, inevitably, sleazoid producer Michael Lee stepped in--a man who thought you could cut random frames out of the middle of scenes to improve a movie's pace--and ruined it with extreme prejudice. Carefully crafted special effects sequences were cut, relatively functional scenes were re-edited into oblivion, and the seeds of hatred were sown between the filmmakers and the producer. Ultimately, everyone who once cared for TWISTED SOULS was forced to abandon ship, and first time director Eugenie Joseph stepped in to help mutilate the picture beyond all recognition. Thus SPOOKIES was born, a mangled, unloved mutation that would curse many of its original parents to unemployability. For the audience, it is intriguingly insane, often insulting, and hard to tear your eyes off of--but in spite of whatever actually wound up on the screen, it's impossible to forget its horrifying origin story as it unspools.

As far as what's on the screen goes: A group of "friends", including a middle-aged businessman and his wife, a vinyl-clad punk rock bully and his moll, two new wave-y in-betweeners, and...a guy with a hand puppet are somehow all leaving the same party, and all ready to break into a vacant funeral home for their afterparty. Well, this happens after a 13 year old runaway inexplicably wanders in to a "birthday party" in there, that looks like it was thrown for him by Pennywise, and he has the nerve to act surprised when he is attacked by a severed head and a piratey-looking cat-man who straight up purrs and meows throughout the picture. Anyway, separately of that, which is unrelated to anything, the island of misfit friends finds a nearly unrecognizable "ouija board" in the old dark house. Actually this thing is kind of fun-looking, having been made by one of the fun-havers on the production before the day that fun died, and I wonder if anyone has considered trying to make a real board game out of it...but I digress. Naturally, the board unleashes evil forces, including a zombie uprising in the cemetery outside, a plague of Ghoulie-like ankle-biters, an evil asian spider-lady (accompanied by kyoto flutes), muck-men that fart prodigiously until they melt in a puddle of wine (?), and uh...I know I'm forgetting stuff. One of the reasons I'm forgetting is because of this whole side story about a tuxedo-wearing vampire in the basement (or somewhere?) who has entrapped a beautiful young bride by cursing her with immortality. That part is a little confusing, not only because it doesn't intersect with the rest of the movie, but because sometimes it seems contemporary--as the bride struggles to survive the zombie plague--and sometimes it seems like a flashback, as our heroes find what looks like the mummified corpse of the dracula guy, complete with his signet ring. So, I don't know what to tell you really. Those are just some of the things that happen in the movie.

Some people like this a lot, and have supported its ascendance to cult status, which is a huge relief when you know what everyone went through to make this movie, only to have it ripped away from them and used against them. I found SPOOKIES a little hard to take, for all the reasons that the cast and crew express in the documentary. It holds a certain amount of visual fascination, whatever you think of it; something of its original creativity remains evident in the movie's colorful, exaggerated look, and its steady parade of unconvincing but inventive creature effects. But then, you have to deal with the farting muck-men. What was once a scene of terror starring REGULAR muck-men, that sounded incredibly laborious to pull off, became a scene of confusing "comedy" when producer Michael Lee insisted that the creatures be accompanied by a barrage of scatalogical noises. Apparently this was Lee's dream come true, as a guy who insisted everyone pull his finger all the time, and who once tried to call the movie "BOWEL ERUPTOR". But, of all the deformations SPOOKIES endured, the fart sounds dealt a mortal injury to the filmmakers' feelings, and even without knowing that, it's hard to enjoy yourself while that's happening.

Actually, all the farts forced me to ask myself: Is this...a comedy? Like for real, as its main thing? As the movie slogged on, I had to decide that it wasn't, but I was distracted by the notion for around 40 minutes. I was only released from this nagging suspicion when the bride makes her long marathon run through throngs of slavering zombies who swarm her, grope her, and tear off her clothes, before she narrowly escapes to an even worse fate. The lengthy scene is strangely gripping, and sleazy for a movie that sometimes feels like low rent children's entertainment. Part of the sequence’s success lies in its simplicity; it is unburdened by the convoluted complications of the rest of the movie, whose esoteric parts never fall together, so it seems to take on a sustained, intensifying focus. The action itself is unnerving, as the delicate and frankly gorgeous Maria Pechuka is molested and stripped nearly-bare by her undead bachelors, running from one drooling mob to another as the horde nearly engulfs her time and again. Actually, it feels a lot like a certain genre of SOV production in which, for the right price, any old creepy nerd can pay a small crew-for-hire to tape a version of his private fantasy, whether it's women being consumed by slime, or women being consumed by quicksand, or...generally, women being consumed by something. I wish I could describe this form of production in more specific or official terms, because I genuinely think it's wonderful that people do this. Anyway, Pechuka's interminable zombie run feels a little like that, and a little like a grim italian gutmuncher, and a little like an actual nightmare. Perhaps it only stands out against its dubious surroundings, but I kind of love it--and I'm happy to love it, because apparently the late Ms. Pechuka truly loved making SPOOKIES, and wanted other people to love it, too.

Which brings me to the uncomfortable place where I land with this movie. On the one hand...I think it's bad. It's so incoherent, and so insists on its impoverished form of comedy, that it's hard to be as charmed by it as I am by plenty of FX-heavy, no-budget oddities. Perhaps the lingering odor of misery drowns out the sweet joy that the crew once felt in the early days of creation--which is still evident, somehow, in its zany special effects, created by the likes of Gabe Bartalos and other folks whose work you definitely already know and love. But I feel ambivalent, about all of this. On the one hand, I can be a snob, and shit on people for failing to make a movie that meets conventional standards of success. On the other hand, I can be a DIFFERENT kind of snob--a more voyeuristic or even sadistic one--and celebrate the painful failures that produced a movie that is most interesting for its tormented history and its amusing ineptitude. I'm not really sure where I would prefer to settle with SPOOKIES, and movies like it. (As if anything is really "like" SPOOKIES) With all that said, I was left with one soothing thought by castmember Anthony Valbiro in the documentary. At some point, he tells us how ROSEMARY'S BABY is his personal cinematic comfort food; he can put it on at night, after an exhausting day, and drift to sleep, enveloped in its warm, glowing aura. He then says that he hopes there are people out there for whom his movie serves that same purpose, that some of us can have our "milk and cookies moment" with SPOOKIES. Honestly, I choke up just thinking about that.

#blogtober #2020 #spookies #horror #supernatural #vampire #zombie #creature feature #old dark house #cursed film #thomas doran #frank farel #eugenie joseph #michael lee #vipco #twisted souls #brendan faulkner #maria pechuka

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thekytchensynk · 3 years

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Ain’t No Picnic (7/9)

Summary: They were just supposed to head over to the island real quick, just to see what was going on. After all, if pirates were trying to ambush and kill the Straw Hat crew, how could Coby NOT go? And how could Helmeppo let him go alone? It should be simple enough, but nothing can be taken for granted in the New World, and when things go awry, Helmeppo finds himself separated from his captain on an island chain full of pirates who probably won’t be too happy to see a Marine if their paths cross.Oh yeah. And one of those pirates is the infamous “Surgeon of Death,” Trafalgar Law… Warnings: Occasional strong language Read it on AO3

__________

As they approached, Helmeppo heard someone shout out another line of words. This was followed a few seconds later by explosions, off to their left.

“This is a … sniper?” Helmeppo asked. It sounded more like a small artillery unit crossed with a demented gardener.

Law’s answer took so long to arrive that Helmeppo half thought the man wasn’t going to answer. “I guess maybe that’s not exactly right,” he amended. “But it’s the easiest way to put it. Let me go first.”

They stepped around a cluster of three massive leaves, Helmeppo letting Law lead the way. On the other side, they found a dark-skinned young man with a truly massive slingshot in hand. His sodden clothes and damp hair suggested he’d also taken at least one dunking today, and somewhat recently. He must have figured out the same thing Law had, then. He watched growing smoke plumes about half a mile off through a pair of goggles, a look of grim satisfaction on his face.

“Nose-ya,” Law said as he approached. His voice startled the sniper, who hopped in surprise and whirled on the pair. “Where is he?”

The sniper’s face told a whole story -- from relief at seeing it was someone he recognized to surprise at seeing a second person behind Law, to a searching glance away from them, off in the direction of the smoke plumes, as he considered the question. Whatever their relationship, apparently the guy trusted that if Helmeppo were a problem, Law wouldn’t have allowed him over here. Which … fair. So rather than asking the obvious question himself, he just said, “A little under a mile that way. I don’t know what exactly is going on, but I think they could use you.”

“Something wrong?”

“Maybe. Something’s going on near her tank. Everything I try gets intercepted. And Luffy should have already ended this. For some reason they can’t get to her and it’s hamstringing them.” Frustration weighed down his words. His attention kept going to the horizon, though there was too much distance and foliage for him to be seeing a mile off clearly. Haki. Definitely.

“And everyone else?”

The sniper looked like he wanted to protest the query, then thought the better of it. “Beppo was over there last I knew.” he pointed at about two o’clock from where he’d said Luffy was. “Shachi, Penguin, Franky and a couple others went back to protect the ships, in case they got rushed. Brook is with Luffy. Nami and Robin are with Chopper on one of the other islands.” He idly pointed in the direction of the stormclouds. “Zoro and Sanji both keep moving. For different reasons I assume.” He added the last partly under his breath.

Helmeppo couldn’t help it. “And Coby?”

For the first time, the sniper looked directly at Helmeppo, studying his bedraggled state. Then his eyes slid over toward Law, asking a question he didn’t want heard.

“That guy who showed up right before the island swallowed everyone,” Law clarified.

“Ah.” He looked off toward the battle’s center again, then back to Helmeppo. “Can’t be sure, but I think he’s up there too. Not too many people just hopping around in the sky, and I know the other one.”

Some internal spring that had been wound so tight for so long that Helmeppo had stopped even noticing it relaxed at that. So he’s still alive and fighting. He’s OK.

“Thanks,” he said, trying to pass it off as nonchalant. But this close, he could see the guy’s eyes through the lenses of his goggles. And in those eyes, he saw two things. First, the sniper was not buying his tone.

And second, the guy understood. Understood the relief of knowing a friend was safe, and understood the need to pretend that things were otherwise.

So- “Thanks,” Helmeppo said again, and this time it sounded like he meant it.

“I’ll cover you guys if you’re going in,” the sniper said. “Oh, and here.” He tossed something small, one to Law and then, after a brief hesitation, one to Helmeppo. Helmeppo glanced at the item -- a clear capsule with something green inside. Green and squirming. “Snap it if you need to get some distance. And cover your ears, I haven’t had much of a chance to test them yet.” He grinned.

Helmeppo pocketed the item, still a little unnerved that the guy was just accepting his presence -- and honestly still weirded out that Law hadn’t just ditched him once they got back here. Grateful, sure, but also very weirded out.

The pair moved through the ruined undergrowth in the rough direction of the first battlefield. The fighting must have been intense, and the ammunition types the Straw Hat sniper -- God Usopp, wasn’t it? -- used were doing it no favors. Large patches were open all the way down to the dark water,the surface littered with little torn bits of plant material. Massive leaves had been knocked over, letting the sun beat down on their path. Unconscious pirates lay here and there, often with no visible damage. Helmeppo tried not to be too impressed with the pirate, and maybe it was the stress of the day or the heat of the sun, but he was finding it difficult once again.

Despite the story not getting out to the public at large, Helmeppo had heard a fair amount from gossip around headquarters. Of a guy using a slingshot to out-shoot the crew’s guns from the top of one of the towers. If this was him -- the guy who’d shot the World Government flag, the one with apparently superhuman range as he protected Nico Robin -- well, he was glad they were on the same side for now.

Now and then, something would go whizzing past them, close but not too close, and something would explode or erupt ahead of them, and dismayed pirate voices would shout. And thus, Law and Helmeppo made it to the main battlefield without actually having to fight anyone else. Helmeppo wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The battlefield featured far fewer combatants than it had earlier, but that just made the specific clashes easier to see. There seemed to be two big knots -- one by the mermaid’s tank, which still stood where it had been before and one all the way across the clear area. Like the last time he’d arrived on this battlefield, the guy he was following didn’t even hesitate, and that left Helmeppo trying very hard to keep up while attempting to even begin formulating a plan.

Coby was indeed on the battlefield, engaged with a wiry-looking fighter with bright red hair wearing loose, flowing clothing. They were darting around the space, clashing and parting and clashing again. Helmeppo could see the grim focus on his captain’s face. The other man said something, distance rendering it just movement for Helmeppo, but it led Coby to swing hard at the guy’s face.

It was a clean hit.

It should have been a clean hit.

It was a miss.

Helmeppo’s pace lagged as he tried to make sense of what he’d seen. The guy hadn’t moved. Coby’s punch should have caught him square in the jaw, but somehow slid off target, ruffling the ends of the guy’s red hair but causing no damage. The guy laughed, then countered, but Coby slid under his return strike.

Despite wanting to help, Helmeppo forced his attention away from that. He’d only be a distraction. Coby could take care of that guy, no problem, as long as he could focus.

Law was going to help out at the mermaid’s tank, where a press of people stood guard still, mostly watching the other fights. Though now, one or two had noticed Law’s approach and were pointing him out to the others.

Guess that’s the right place to go, Helmeppo thought, adjusting his angle.

From behind them, he heard another of the sniper’s projectiles whining across the island, growing closer. It shot overhead, on the dead-on course for the area near the Mermaid’s container.

Until it wasn’t.

At the last second, the projectile took a hard turn, veering into the undergrowth and exploding out of sight.

Law stopped at that, whirling to look back the way they’d come from, then toward the thin plume of smoke coming from, presumably, the impact site. Helmeppo stopped as well. What had the sniper said? Everything I try gets intercepted. That push and pull power -- was this related to that? That might also explain the weird difficulty Coby was having with his opponent.

“Hey.” Law’s voice cut through his thoughts. Helmeppo looked at the pirate, who gestured toward thesmoke with a tilt of his head. “The person who did that should be near the impact site. Can you take care of them?”

How was he supposed to know? But the guy did seem to have a quick mind for figuring things out. Would he ask if he thought the answer was no? And it might be the place he could be most useful.

“Sure.”

“Then go.”

He said it as though giving Helmeppo orders were an everyday thing. Maybe it was just a captain thing? Well, whatever. He wanted to watch Coby’s back, but maybe the best way would be to figure out what was going on. Law certainly seemed to have a better grasp on this situation than he did. So he only hesitated for a moment before changing his bearing yet again.

Ahead of him, a couple pirates moved to intercept him, though most eyes were still on other folks on the battlefield. Helmeppo pulled his weapons free, ready to cut his way through.

Then they were gone.

No. He was in a whole different place.

Slowing, he glanced over his shoulder to see those two pirates looking around, as confused as he felt. He’d been moved from there to … here. Near the edge of the clearing.

Well, that was unsettling. But again, he wasn’t going to let the moment escape. He shoved aside a leaf taller than he was and pushed into the dense vegetation yet again.

He wasn’t moving very quietly, but luckily the island was alive with massive noises -- shouts and explosions and the susurration of wind in the leaves. So he didn’t worry too much about it as he headed for the thin plume of smoke that indicated where the sniper’s attack had ultimately hit.

He wasn’t far from the battlefield when he caught sight of movement.

Slowing his pace, Helmeppo crept closer. Up ahead, a small cluster of pirates stood a little ways from a charred leaf stump. Smoke trailed from its sizzling ends in a thin line.

“I’m telling you, it’s not working,” one of them was saying as he got in earshot. “We lost the element of surprise. We need to run. And now that other pirate’s there!”

“No. Not yet,” another said. “We still have both twins. They’ll be calling him in any moment, as soon as someone takes care of that sniper. They still don’t really understand what they’re in for. We have to take this opportunity.”

“It’s not worth it. We’re going to lose!”

A slap echoed around the area, accompanied by a shocked sound from the first speaker. Helmeppo peered through a fan of long, grass-like leaves, trying to ignore that he’d stepped in something super oozy.

“You want to run, run Darvell,” the second person said. Helmeppo could see it was an older man, hair going salt and pepper, with a build and skin color that suggested there was shark fishman somewhere in his blood. Captain Darvell, presumably, stood a few feet away from him, one hand on his cheek, eyes furious. The captain wore a flamboyant coat over plain clothing. All looked dry.

“I just want us to be reasonable,” Darvell replied, voice tight and careful, enunciating every word. “Sure, Straw Hat killed the slave trade, but ain’t much revenge if you let the guy who ruined your life take it as well.”

“He ain’t taking anything yet,” the second man said.

In addition to the two arguing pirates, Helmeppo saw three others -- A woman in tight clothes and wearing two crossed belts full of little knives watching the pair with narrowed eyes, a scrawny young man with bright red hair who was looking up at the sky and a massive, older man with short hair with his back to everyone, talking to what Helmeppo assumed was a den den mushi in his hand.

Any further squabbling got cut off as the scrawny young man tilted his head and said, “Someone’s trying again. Watch out.”

He said it nonchalantly, as though commenting on the weather, while he walked toward the sizzling stump. The rest of the group shifted subtly away from the spot. The scrawny guy tilted his head the other way, then reached up into the air with both hands, closed his fingers as though grabbing the sky itself, and pulled.

As he did, Helmeppo heard it -- the whistling sound of another of the sniper’s shots, coming closer. The scrawny guy scampered away as something came hurtling out of the sky. On impact it unfolded into a series of vines -- not the same sort as had grabbed Helmeppo earlier, but clearly looking to do something similar. With no one close enough, they just waggled about impotently.

“He’s persistent,” the graying man said as the lady wandered over to peer at the vines from a safe distance.

“They all are,” the scrawny guy replied, looking at the sky once more. The others mirrored the movement. “We can’t let our guard down while we wait for the call.”

So, as if the hair wasn’t proof enough, that guy was the other twin. He didn’t understand the power, but figured that guy was the most important out of this group here. He felt like anyone else with the sort of power to match the Straw Hats would be out there fighting. So maybe they were here as a privilege of position or as a token defense force for that guy until he went to the battle? They definitely looked stronger than the ones from the cave, but he saw no guns and there were fewer of them. The power user looked like a kitten might be able to knock him over. Helmeppo thought he could take them.

Probably.

Assuming they didn’t have anything hidden up their sleeves.

At the very least, five on one wasn’t the worst odds he’d faced today.

He shifted his fingers, changing his grip until the kukri sat comfortably in his hands. The scrawny guy could use a pulling power, so he might lose his weapons fairly early. That meant he needed to move quick, get at least one of them out of the way very fast. If he went for the devil fruit user right away, they’d just gang up, and at this point, he didn’t want to deal with that. But if he took one out, that would mean fewer attackers and the others might hesitate.

He decided on the maybe-fishman first. He looked strongest of the four nearby pirates, and was the closest. Plus, he didn’t see a weapon, which might give Helmeppo a slight reach advantage. After that, he’d need to go for the power user. Either the woman or Darvell could be dangerous, but hopefully if they were, they’d display their strength quickly.

What was it people said? No plan survives contact with the enemy? No point in overthinking it. He focused on the fishman and rushed forward.

His target was caught off guard, eyes still turned toward the sky instead of the surroundings, but he recovered fast, crossing his arms to block Helmeppo’s strike. The blades bit in about half an inch, drawing blood and leaving a pair of long slices down his gray forearms.

“Attacker!” the guy shouted, pivoting and striking out at Helmeppo, who narrowly dodged. He could feel the strength of the punch as it split the air by his face.

Ok. This would need to end quickly.

Planting one foot, he spun and put the speed of that move into the next strike.

“Ren, duck!” Darvell shouted.

The shout disrupted them both. Helmeppo lost focus on where he intended to strike. As he was turning, the man started to duck, more out of knee-jerk reaction to the shouted suggestion than because he planned to. So what was intended to be two strikes near his elbow, to hopefully render it temporarily useless, turned into one knife into the shoulder.

And one in the neck.

Helmeppo froze as the fishman stumbled back away from him, one hand clapping to his wound. Blood spilled -- not to where Helmeppo thought he’d hit an artery, but enough. A lot.

“Shit. Get back to the ship, Ren! We’ll handle him,” the woman barked, casting a murderous look at Darvell, who shrank from her. The fishman backed off a few more steps, then turned and ran, presumably to do as she said.

Okay, four on one… wait, where had the one with the den den mushi gone?

No time to think about it. He’d take the better odds.

The woman had begun moving toward him, maybe angry about what he’d done to her friend. He considered just fighting her next. In all honesty, she looked stronger than Darvell, and her eyes showed more intensity than his. So while the man in the ridiculous coat was still closer, Helmeppo ignored that and eyed her.

Nope. Don’t draw this out. You have something to do.

He whirled toward the scrawny guy, blades ready. The man looked not at Helmeppo, but at the woman -- for orders? No matter. Helmeppo felt sure he could get to that guy before she could stop him. So he charged, trying to bypass her entirely.

The woman seemed ready for it, pulling one of the small knives from her belt and throwing it, not at him, but angled behind him.. To Darvell? But that man had a sword already, and the little knives didn’t even really have a handle -- they were meant for throwing, so-

He realized belatedly what might be happening, but understanding came at the same time as a sharp pain, lancing through him from a point low on the left side of his back. He stopped, startled, and reached back to yank the item free. The knife. Blood warned his fingertips and made a spot on the hilt of his kukri sticky. Looking up he saw the red-haired man’s hands balled into fists in front of him, not as though ready to hit him, but like he was holding something.

Fantastic. The guy had pulled that sniper's attack toward himself earlier, yanking it out of the sky. He’d realized he might lose his kukri to it. He’d had all the information he needed to realize that the guy could do the same thing with a tiny knife, he’d just been an idiot and not thought about it.

The woman already had another pair of the little weapons between her fingers. His understanding of the situation must have made its way to his face, because she grinned at him.

“Still time to run,” she said.

Not a bad idea.

So he did.

“Hey, hey!” the devil fruit user shouted, falling back a step as he saw Helmeppo again pounding in his direction. The guy almost bolted, then something caught his attention. He reached out, grabbing at the air.

Helmeppo threw himself to the left before the guy pulled. A knife soared by Helmeppo, flying straight toward the devil fruit user, who shrieked in an undignified manner and tried to dodge, but coordination didn’t seem to be a strong suit. He turned more than actually moving. The knife sunk into his left bicep. Then Helmeppo was there, channeling his first fight with Butterfingers.

At least this time, it only took one solid strike to the temple to put the guy out. Or maybe he wasn’t pulling his punches this time. With the water right there, he caught the guy by one limp arm and lowered him to the ground.

Jeeze, with the way this fight was going, maybe he could understand why these folks had been left out of the big fight.

If Darvell had kept his mouth shut, the blind-side attack he tried next might have actually hit home. Fortunately for Helmeppo, the guy let out a loud shout as before swinging at his back. There wasn’t enough time to move, but he did swing a weapon up and across his back before the sword struck home. The strike carried incredible weight, forcing his arm to an awkward angle and pushing the blunt side of Helmeppo’s weapon against his back hard enough that he felt sure he’d have a bruise across his shoulders later. Better than being split down the spine, he thought.

“Darvell, we’re getting beat by some sort of castaway,” the woman shouted in frustration. He thought she sounded closer. “Stop screwing around!”

The pressure on his blade let up enough that Helmeppo could shove it away and turn to face the two remaining fighters. “You should leave,” he said, both blades up in a ready stance as he tried to keep both of them in sight. “The Straw Hats and their allies are back together. They’re going to be cleaning up the ringleaders soon.”

The woman held fast, but Darvell had been primed for this. At Helmeppo’s words, he stepped back a few paces, glancing over at his sole remaining teammate. “Anne, I told you guys-”

“He’s trying to scare us off because we still have him outnumbered,” she replied with a patience that suggested this sort of dialogue was common between them. “We can take him if we just treat it like always. You always overreact.”

“Then where did Cap go?” Darvell said. “He was getting the reports from the guys with the mermaid. He booked it. Maybe this guy’s right.”

Anne’s eyes slid from her teammate to Helmeppo’s ready form. “Well if that’s the case, let’s kill him first. Maybe give us more time. Plus I’m mad now.”

As they discussed, Helmeppo took stock of his situation. Coming for the devil fruit user had put him at the edge of the huge hole in the lilypad -- not a great place to be, especially with the memory of those vines still fairly fresh. Plus, he wasn't exactly in great shape anymore. He didn’t have the free hand to check the wound in his back, but it definitely still hurt, and he could feel his clothes sticking to him worse where the blood soaked them. He didn’t fancy getting another dozen or so of those in him. He’d taken out the devil fruit user. Was that enough? If so, maybe a retreat of his own was in order. Maybe he could even draw them after him, so they couldn’t wake the guy back up.

Carefully, he side-stepped around the devil fruit user, edging toward the long, concealing leaves of the nearby forest. “Actually,” he said, “Maybe I’ll just go call one or two of them over here.” Come on, come on...

“Stop!” Anne shouted.

He pivoted and ran for cover, feeling a sense of relief as the plants closed around him.

Then something stepped into his path, too quick for Helmeppo to stop. The collision didn’t move the thing, but sent him rebounding back a step, caught entirely off guard. Before he could properly register what it was, a powerful kick slammed into his midsection, driving his breath from him and forcing him back out into the open. He tried to keep his balance, but the uneven ground tangled his feet and he fell backward to the ground.

“Cap!” Anne said. “Finally. Where did you go?”

“I was making sure this Marine didn’t run for help,” growled a voice.

“Marine?” Darvell sounded scandalized.

On the ground Helmeppo had released one of his weapons to wrap an arm around his chest. Oh boy. Something had definitely broken with that kick. Breathing in too deeply sent pain radiating from the center-right part of his torso. Got to get up,” he thought, pressing the knuckles of his other hand shakily to the ground. Got to get up now

“One of the two who showed up uninvited,” the new voice continued. “Weren’t you idiots paying attention to anything?”

The figure stepped out of the underbrush. In a petulant voice, Darvell said, “We had other things on our mind, Cap. You remember -- everyone getting dumped in the water?”

“So we should definitely kill him,” Anne mused.

Helmeppo looked up, gritting his teeth against the pain -- and stopped. His breath knotted in his throat for a second.

No.

The figure stopped just beyond the edge of the undergrowth, arms crossed. Helmeppo had to force his gaze up to the man’s face, just to confirm what he already knew in just those few words and that posture. The newcomer gazed down with a glower, all irritation and impatience, at the injured Marine. There was nothing like recognition there, and nothing like pity. But Helmeppo couldn’t stop one word from slipping past his lips.

“Dad?”

#fanfic #one piece #helmeppo #trafalgar law #usopp #morgan

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cherry-moonlight · 4 years

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Life Could Be A Dream - Chapter Three

{NOS4A2 - Charlie Manx x Reader}

{A/N} While the -x-x-x-’s here are used to imply time passing, I also noticed they mark where the warning begins, and only lasts until about half way between them so that works for a marker if you need it! The scene isn't graphic, and only includes lots of feelings from the reader afterwards. Also, thanks for hanging in for my first three Charlie-less chapters. Our favorite vamp will appear in the next one. ;D

Warnings: Implied s*icide, minor character death.

Chapter Three - The Damaged Find Each Other

Black spots clouded my vision in large patches, smatterings of light flecks dancing around within them. My ears were ringing, a low, consistent hum laced with the beating of my heart as my legs trudged forward. There was no indication of where I was, until the dark clouds that kept me from seeing began to dissipate slowly. I inhaled, trying my best to figure out where I was. As I did so, the familiar scent of peppermint and pine filled my nostrils.

Ah.

The dream.

My vision slowly twisted from pitch black to blurry, snowy white as I gained more control of myself and my legs, becoming clearer-headed by the second. The ringing in my ears was replaced with a hazy sounding song in the distance, which I quickly recognized to be the phantom song I’d heard on the radio at Carmody’s, but without the static that found its way through every note.

I was reminded of how Vic asked if I had always heard music that no one else did. It made me laugh. What was she playing at? At the same time, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly alarmed. I chalked it up to the long day. Maybe it was just in my head. She didn’t push the subject any further when I told her no.

My eyelids fluttered, taking in the long road lined with tees ahead of me; my steps crunched in the snow. The lights in the distance were still just so closely out of reach.

I surely thought I’d never experience the dream again after watching it’s contents unfold in front of me not too long ago. It had only been a week since I’d left home, but I was on a new path in life now. If my dream wasn’t a sign for such a change, what could it have been a sign for?

The cold still couldn’t touch me, but light snowflakes fell like rose petals against my skin this time. The feeling was foreign all the same. One didn’t feel snowflakes against their flesh, but these were soft enough that I welcomed it all the same.

No matter how far I walked in any direction, I couldn’t find the source of the song that seemed to float through the air like a butterfly on a summer breeze, intertwining with each note of the ghostly melody. This time, the dream felt as though it were all a distant memory. I supposed I’d dreamt of this wintery place so many times, it was becoming all too familiar, even though the dream itself had begun to change between the last time I’d had it now after years of remaining the same.

Trying to listen closely this time, I heard no sounds of laughter or life like I did last time, and while the song held a hint of catchiness when I’d heard it in the shop, this particular setting ignited a strange pang of melancholy deep within my heart. Sadness reared its head as I began to long for something I wasn’t sure I’d ever had. Not able to put my finger on what that something was, I tried my best to push the feeling away.

But to no avail.

After a moment, I heard my breathing tremble, felt it rattling in my chest.

My fingers found their way to my cheeks, dabbing them lightly in disbelief before I looked down to study the wetness that rubbed off on them, looking almost iridescent in the moonlight and lights that danced up ahead. Despite my upbringing, I hadn’t cried in ages. Crying showed weakness in my mother’s eyes, and I was going to be damned if I let her have the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

I quickly wiped my tears on my clothes, not wanting to think something like a silly, lyricless song would make me cry after all this time. Instead of picking up the pace like I had before, I made my way down the road slowly, staying in the tune with my surroundings— searching for the meaning in anything I could find. When I squinted at the lights before me, I could make out what looked like a long track, lined in the colorful lights. It reminded me of a roller coaster, one I’d seen before.

“{Y/N},” I heard a man's deep velvety voice say, just above a whisper in my ear.

By instinct, I turned to face it, accidentally opening my eyes too widely.

“Oh, Vic,” I sighed sleepily, realizing my dream had disappeared in a flash as my groggy voice squeaked. “I was dreaming, you scared me. You sounded like a man.”

Rubbing my eyes, I sat up from the couch they’d graciously lent me until I could find a place to stay, stretching my arms. It was a low moment for me, having to explain that I was essentially homeless when Vic asked if I lived close to the shop, but the kindness of strangers proved to exist when she trusted me so easily. All it seemed to take was her relating to me with her own trouble with her parents in the past. Though it was brief, it somehow brought us closer together almost immediately.

The damaged really did find each other.

“Gee, thanks,” she smirked.

She wore a black motorcycle jacket and bootcut jeans, her unkempt hair looking as though it’d been concealed under a helmet. Over the past week, I’d noticed she’d taken off on her dirt bike a lot, more than what seemed usual for someone who claimed to want to be home with her son all the time. Though it was hardly my business, I wondered where she went for hours on end.

“It’s already eleven, you’re gonna be late if you don’t get ready,” she urged, a gentle reminder of the day's purpose for me.

I simply nodded and willed myself to my feet, remembering what was ahead of me.

The day after I left the house, I received a call that my mother had overdosed on a cocktail of pills and alcohol. The news should’ve come as a shock; should’ve felt as though I’d got punched in the stomach or plunged into ice water. Instead, I felt as though I knew it was going to happen that way. I thanked the caller for the notification and hung up my cell. It didn’t matter that I was eighteen. She’d gotten her last laugh, and I was truly alone in the world.

Truly an orphan.

-x-x-x-

With a sigh, I smoothed down the black dress Vic had taken me buy for the grim affair a few days earlier, looking around the confines of my now old house. It was going to be taken by the state, and I didn’t have the resources to fight it. If I was honest, I didn’t really want to. It was better off left in the dirt, a memory to be covered up and forgotten about like a child’s toy.

So much had changed in a week. My life was turned upside down in a matter of seconds, and things only continued to change. Seeing the chair my mother often sat in empty struck an odd nerve that I didn’t think it would. I walked around the table, running my fingers along the wooden top before sitting in the chair myself.

It was where they found her. Slumped over, alone.

With my hands on the arm rails, I braced myself, as though the chair might combust, or really, as though I might fall to pieces if I didn’t hold myself there.

Everyone spoke well of her at the funeral. I wasn’t even aware she knew so many people who’d want to be there, but I guessed she’d put on a front that she was a great person everywhere else but at home. Still, the side of me who desperately wanted her to change, who screamed inside as they lowered the casket six feet underground, was grateful they showed up for her.

I didn’t speak about her. How could I after the way we’d parted? I stayed silent, letting everyone think I just couldn’t muster the emotional stability to do so. Maybe that didn’t make me any better than her at some points.

I stared blankly at the table, wondering what was going through her mind at the time, since my whole life I’d never seen her care enough about anything or anyone else.

My father and my brother were at the funeral, which might’ve shocked me if I weren’t feeling so confusedly numb. After more than ten years, they looked so different than I remembered, yet exactly the same. Though my emotions were scattered among a cruel scale of uncaring and caring too much, when I saw them walk over, I did want to throttle them both; shake them to their cores and ask them what they thought they were doing. I wasn’t even sure they recognized me, though. Not until they approached me.

Even after just a very brief chat, I realized it wasn’t that they were better people than my mother for leaving. They hadn’t escaped her clutches or wanted to do better for themselves. They were exactly the same as her, maybe even worse, which was a shame to see in my brother as well. Neither of them were worth remembering, and while my heart shattered at the notion, my head felt clearer being able to find closure and let go of what could be or could’ve been. My cedar chest would definitely become emptier when I got back to Vic’s and burned my father's phone number into nothingness.

I really had nowhere else to turn now, and I was more than grateful for Vic and Lou.

My eyes drifted around the kitchen, and I remembered the way my parents fought with each other. Random objects flying across the room, the smell of liquor seeping from their pores. I always stayed huddled up at the top of the stairs, listening to their arguments about things that never really seemed very important to me. It forced me to be more mature at such a young age, minding my behavior and walking on eggshells. I remembered how one night, their arguing had finally worn on me. I walked out of my front door in nothing but pajamas and the slippers on my feet, only a small child, in the middle of a snow storm. That was the night before my father disappeared from my life. After that, the rest was a blur.

Not wanting to wallow in self-pity any longer, I shook the thought from my head and stood up from the table. Taking one last trek up the creaky stairs that were almost like a soundtrack to my childhood, I made my way to my room to grab some of my things and shove them into a duffle bag. The rest could burn to the ground for all I cared.

As I took one last look and walked out of the front door, I was tempted to light the match myself.

“Ready to go?” Vic asked.

She had been waiting for me outside. It was her idea to come back to my place to get my things and “say goodbye” properly. She was sweet, but I couldn’t even begin to explain to her that it wasn’t worth it to me anymore. Still, I took the opportunity it offered me. I needed clothes and there were a few things I hadn’t meant to part with when I’d left in the first place.

“Yeah, I think so..” I began, walking down more rickety steps from my front porch. “But, hey.. I don’t want to go back to the house just yet. Can you take me to work? I need to do something other than sit and think today.”

“Course,” she agreed, no questions asked.

I liked that about her and Lou. They seemed to understand, no matter what.

-x-x-x-

The rest of the day went by a hell of a lot quicker than I would’ve liked. Tidying up around the shop, I picked up a broom and absentmindedly pushed it around, focusing on the way the bristles brushed against the cement as I searched for anything and everything to do instead of having time to think. But when I looked down, I noticed a bracelet I never took off was missing from my wrist. An audible gasp escaped me, followed by an exasperated curse.

“What’s the matter?” Vic asked, walking towards me with Wayne who was close on her heels.

“I lost my bracelet.. It was the only thing my mom had ever given me that wasn’t attached to some kind of condition,” I frowned, wringing one hand around my wrist lightly as I held onto the broom with the other.

“I’m sure it’ll turn up, just keep looking,” was all she said before she passed right by me and grabbed her helmet.

I nodded, sighing as I decided it might not have been worth keeping, anyway. Getting sentimental over my mother wasn’t like me, especially when I’d never really paid much attention to the bracelet once I put it on years ago, but I guessed it was a normal reaction in the given situation.

“Where are you going?” I heard Wayne ask her as they headed back out front.

“Stay here with dad and {Y/N}, okay, Bats?” She responded.

And with that, I heard the roar of the dirt bike’s engine kick up and fade off into the distance.

At about ten minutes to closing time, Vic walked over to me with pride in her step and a large grin on her lips. She looked up to something, and I wasn’t sure what to think. Before I could ask what happened, she held her hand out and dangled a small gold chain with a crescent moon charm in the air in front of me.

“My bracelet!” I cried, more excited than I’d expected to be over it’s return. “Where’d you find it?”

“It was on the ground,” she shrugged, a nervous energy seemed to permeate from her, and I was reminded of the first day we met.

When I looked up to thank her, I noticed her eye was bloodshot, a thin trail of deep red blood dripping from the outer corner of it. Concern was an understatement as I dropped the broom and rushed over to her.

“Vic, are you okay? Your eye…”

“Oh what? This? I’m fine, it’s just allergies. I rode through the woods this time, I usually don’t,” she explained.

“But it’s bleeding,” I pushed. “Let me get you a towel or something to clean it,” I said, turning around and looking for a clean towel.

“You should stop riding your bike through the woods so much….” Lou walked over, standing next to the pole with the phone on it.

When I found a suitable towel, I handed it to her, watching as Lou took the “Help Wanted” sign down and crumpled it in his hands, something clearly bothering him as he eyed her with an intense gaze. Not wanting to get in the middle of whatever spat they may have been having, I picked up the broom again, averting my gaze back to the floor as he took her aside and spoke to her privately.

A few moments passed before I heard the phone ring. Not thinking anything of it, I walked over to it slowly. The shop was almost closed and whatever was so important could wait, but I wanted to make a good impression on Lou and Vic. When my eyes fell on the phone, I suddenly remembered the cords had been cut. My expression twisted into pure confusion as I studied the phone.

How is it ringing?

I reached out towards it even slower than I’d approached it and put the receiver to my ear as though it might burn me. Noticing Vic storming towards me with a fire in her eyes that I’d never seen before, I swallowed hard. She stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed I had the phone. It almost looked as though she had stopped breathing as she stared me down, waiting for whatever she was expecting to happen.

“Hello...?” I spoke into the phone, trying to remain calm about what I thought was only the impossible phone call, until her features then morphed from confused to fearful.

“Where’s Wayne?” Vic questioned into the open air to no one in particular with clear panic lacing her voice, stomping closer to me in her boots as though I’d done something wrong.

At the same time, I heard the voice of a little girl at the other end of the phone, her tone full of snark and sass before she hung up the phone with a loud slam.

“You’re not Vic McQueen.”

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #charlie manx x reader #fanfiction #nos4a2 fanfiction #charlie manx fanfiction #vic mcqueen #lou carmody #{cherrywrites}

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sombrz · 5 years

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The Evolution of Katsuki Bakugou and The Importance of Saving

after the last chapter, i couldn’t help myself and wrote down a huge...meta? description of a collection of moments? relating to bakugou’s ongoing arc with his increasing dedication to prioritizing rescuing others in his pursuit to be a top hero. feel free to add on if i somehow forgot something!

behind the cut bc it’s really image heavy!

CHAPTER 5

we’re introduced to the concept of combat vs rescue, win vs save - and of course it’s by comparing our main boys. they started on opposite ends of the spectrum, after all. deku’s all hero, no super. bakugou’s all super, no hero. so yeah, bakugou managed to get first place in the entrance exam without a single rescue point. which is a feat considering even iida managed to get 9 points and it was clear he wasn’t thinking about helping others until he saw deku’s bravery when uraraka was in danger. at this point, bakugou’s only interested in showing off. being flashy and tough, proving he’s the best!

CHAPTER 18

bakugou’s first rescue and he could give less of a shit! he saves deku from running into kurogiri’s portal here, not with the motivation of saving his life but to get him out of the way - he jumped into the fray in order to take down kurogiri. saving deku isn’t even a plus, really, it’s just a side effect.

deku’s still grateful though.

EXTRA 1: THE FIRST OVA (actually written by horikoshi!)

bakugou initially complains about having to be on rescue duty, but he still gets praised by thirteen for his efforts: many heroes struggle with the parts of heroism that they can’t easily solve with their quirks, and simply by manually pulling the stretcher up, he’s showing he’s capable of overcoming that. a beautiful hero, indeed. then, later, while he himself doesn’t rescue todoroki, he works in tandem with deku and class 1A to ensure that save AND their victory. and while iida, uraraka and asui give deku the credit of coming up with their plan, and he modestly returns the praise to everyone, he makes sure to give indivudual kudos to bakugou - because like this OVA, aizawa’s ‘twin pillar’ speech, all might’s ‘raise each other up’ speech, and the upcoming movie all prove: deku and bakugou work best when leading their peers together using the ‘save AND win’ mentality.

CHAPTER 65 + Ultra Archive Databook Omake

saves deku again, this time from all might. this is interesting because he’s doing this for both their benefits despite still not really having the ‘rescue’ mindset. he’s counting on deku to make it to the gate, but he was the one (by launching deku towards the gate to begin with) who assigned them these roles. deku as the runner, while bakugou distracts all might and therefore, shields deku from the brunt of the attack. he’s putting himself in physical harm for deku. but he’s not thinking it that way: to him, this is still just for personal gain (passing their exam) and due to (thanks to deku) a renewed sense of willpower and drive. he sees these actions as his own willingness to destroy himself for a victory.

and he’s definitely pissed later during the databook omake that deku went back for him, seeing no positives in deku’s innate inability to ignore others when they’re in trouble (especially when that someone is bakugou himself - since we learn during this exam that bakugou equates all might being able to stand against any kind of tribulation by HIMSELF and coming up on top as what makes him the strongest hero).

EXTRA 2: THE FIRST MOVIE (not written by horikoshi but i still wanna bring it up)

uraraka can’t fight back or escape the drones because she’d have to release her quirk to do so - which would put deku and melissa in danger. but when things look grim, who comes to the rescue? bakugou does! like his first rescue, he’s not doing this with the thought process of ‘oh i have to save my friend’ but rather, ‘hey i just got here and there’s things to fight and one of them is about to attack uraraka so might as well start with that’ but in this case, it’s....the action that counts! and the action was still heroic! he did it in a very dramatic way too!

CHAPTERS 79, 80, 85, 90

i decided to group all these together. it’s all in the same conjoined arcs and it’s a little more nebulous on whether it counts for this particular meta because, well, bakugou doesn’t really do any rescuing. i didn’t bother with the sludge monster scene because it’s pretty clear-cut but i think that this really set the baseline for all future bakugou development and he filled the role of the damsel in need of rescuing - so it definitely affected his perception of it.

things i wanted to point out: during the forest, he and todoroki are together since they ended up partners during the forest activity. at some point after (or maybe as it happened) the mustard gas filled the forest, they came across tsuburaba and todoroki decided to carry him through the rest of the way. todoroki also has to continually point out to bakugou that he should avoid using his quirk as to avoid further endangering their peers still in the forest (since, y’know, fire and explosions + wooded area = bad). for this entire time, bakugou is the hothead who just wants to fight and needs to be reminded that, hey, others could get hurt if you’re not careful. he barely pays tsuburaba any mind either, and we can probably assume he refuted it if todoroki even slightly implied they take turns carrying him or something.

he still helps out tokoyami even though he didn’t really need to, since todoroki’s fire would have probably sufficed on its own. so that’s nice! but then the convo switches gears to the fact that the legue of villains are here to kidnap bakugou and his friends all agree to be his [fandom voice] defense squad. EXCEPT, WAIT, WHAT THE FUCK? HE DOESN’T NEED ANY PROTECTION, THANK YOU VERY LITTLE, HE’S FINE BY HI - oh, yikes, and he got taken by mr. compress. i do like how he did listen to todoroki telling him to follow them, and must have stopped grousing about it long enough for the guys in front to not realize when he and tokoyami got taken.

uraraka’s the first to bring up that bakugou would probably feel bad about being rescued - because of his pride. that’s what leads deku to add the caveat of, if we offer our help to kacchan, kirishima should be the one reaching out - at this point, bakugou would hate help from anyone, even though he KNEW that he was a hindrance to all might during the fight, and deku knows from personal experience after the whole sludge monster debacle, but it’s less of a blow to his ego if it’s someone he doesn’t see as a threat, and he’ll be less hostile if it’s someone he recognizes completely as a friend. the fact that he’s starting to see anyone as a friend is a lot! and though he denies it later, that grin says it all - he’s glad to be saved. he’s thankful.

CHAPTER 110 (& 113)

this is also an interesting one. i wish more people did a bit of retroactive meta for bakugou during this arc, because everything he does really shows his mental state in the aftermath of his kidnapping. anyway, while the first part of the exam was to show off your battle prowess against foes (which, another interesting note, bakugou would have FAILED without kaminari), the second test is where you show off your saving skills. and this is NOT what bakugou does. his tagalong BFFs chastise him for his behaviour, but the ‘victims’ seem to realize bakugou is observant enough to know they’re low priority civillians. this doesn’t stop them from taking points off for his bad attitude though - because the thing about bakugou is he’s actually emotionally intelligent enough to understand other people (when not clouded by personal feelings), but he repressed his empathy at a young age and therefore struggles with acting appropriately without coming off as terrible. and he ends up failing because he presumably doesn’t try to alter his method and lets kaminari and kirishima do all the heavy lifting while being unusually complacent throughout - not even bothering to check out the big gang orca fight, despite apparently being aware it was happening.

but also, side note about the first test - where kaminari notes that bakugou held back on using his more powerful attacks because he didn’t want to hurt kirishima (who was on the ground) or kaminari. i didn’t include it as its own thing here since it more shows bakugou’s development in terms of teamwork, and not really rescuing - though i DO think getting kirishima back was on bakugou’s mind - but it’s still bakugou being pre-emptive and mindful of not hurting others and caring about his friends. sowing the seeds for his future motivations.

CHAPTER 120

after he failed his exam, finally vented his guilt and frustration, and beat deku in their fight - all might shows up with some words of wisdom! bakugou admits that all that ^ wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but a cool thing about bakugou is that he always absorbs criticism and advice and takes it to heart (ex: bakugou’s start line!) he’s not averse to changing himself to improve, and if his IDOL says that being a bit more like deku is the way to be the best hero: that he can finally put aside all that anger and all those misunderstandings, and instead rise up by helping deku and keeping pace with him? surpassing him? that saving people is just as important as the final victory? then there has to be some truth to that, right?

bakugou has nothing to do now but let all those revelations simmer, attend his remedial classes, and wait to be relevant again.

and so we’re now in a different ball game!

CHAPTER 207

let’s fast-forward a few months. bakugou’s been out of the spotlight for a bit, if you don’t count him getting his babysitting credentials, joining a band and just generally being more invested in ~friendship~. but we haven’t seen him fight anyone for a while! he automatically puts himself in the leadership position of team 4, annoys his friends by being bossy and impatient, same old bakugou, and then - wait, he throws himself between kamakiri and jirou to save her?

we finally see the fruits of his labour after deku vs kacchan 2. the old bakugou wasn’t a team player, didn’t care if anyone else got hurt as long as they didn’t get in between him and his opponent - him and victory. the new bakugou is still prickly, still has the same personality, still wants nothing more than to surpass the number one hero - but he’s had a change of heart. the new bakugou has discovered a new strength, and that’s the desire to rescue others.

CHAPTER 208

i don’t even have to say anything. class 1A does it for me. while monoma, tokage and class 1B are shocked beyond belief that bakugou is capable of changing...his friends are just proud and happy. at this point - seeing him day in and out - they (especially the ones he’s built up closer friendships with, like kirishima and kaminari) all know exactly how he thinks and feels.

we also get to hear that, before the fight even started, he straight-up put it out there: ‘if you guys are in trouble, i’ll save you. if I’M in trouble, YOU gotta save me.’ and that’s the next step, right? bakugou never put stock in protecting others, sure, but he was adamantly threatened by the idea of being the one that needed protection. because that would mean he was weak, right? he can handle anything by himself! except....his friends saved him in kamino ward, and maybe - his databook bio implies this too - time to reflect on it has let him see that...was okay. we saw in the license exam with kaminari, and during the culture festival with jirou and the band (both things that are brought up here) that he’s begun to - not just acknowledge his peers as worthy of respect, as he did with todoroki and yaoyorozu after the battle trial and with kirishima and uraraka after the sports festival - but TRUST them too. specifically here, he trusts that if he fucks up or if class 1B decides to target him, he can count on his teammates - on jirou, sero and satou - to rescue him and take over when he can’t do it himself. and they do, so well done!

CHAPTER 219

the sketch is from the volume extras: to let us know that bakugou attacked from up above in the air (and the lamp post) in order to make sure no bystanders got hurt from his explosions or todoroki’s ice. :)

anyway, this is his official premiere into the hero world! his first licensed fight, and it serves as a surprising template for how bakugou operates these days. for one, he has no qualms with teaming up with todoroki - whom he claims to dislike (haha, suuuuure, kacchan). two, he lets todoroki call dibs on the main baddie while bakugou takes care of all the lackies (in one fell swoop bc he’s THAT GOOD) - even though one could easily argue that there’s less glory in that. three, he’s aware of his surroundings and notices a civillian in danger at the same time as all might, moving quick to save her, whereas todoroki only manages to react in the aftermath - because, as we’ve seen, rescue is now firmly imprinted in his mind’s eye. if he sees someone in trouble, that’s going to be the most important thing to him. four, we find out after the fight that he prioritized saving everyone’s wallets and purses before blowing up all the lackies. and i love that bakugou’s more talented at snatching wallets than actual goddamn thieves. master cook, natural musician, battle genius, honour student.....pickpocket extraordinaire?

bakugou’s still rude to the civillian, still brusque with the pro heroes (even trying to act cool when faced with proud dad might head pats), but this fight showed us where his priorities lie - and it’s not what they were when he started school and couldn’t even garner a single rescue point.

EXTRA THREE: THE SECOND MOVIE (also not written by horikoshi but it seems he had more of a hand in it)

the movie’s not even out yet but it’s clear that the boys are going to be leaning HARD into their new shared mantra. defeating nine and his lackeys, in order to save everyone on the island, and personally motivated by protecting mahoro and katsuma in particular.

so even though we don’t know the nitty-gritty of what happens yet, i felt the need to include it. bakugou’s gonna be doing a lot of saving in this movie. i can tell.

CHAPTER 248

he doesn’t do any rescuing here. on the contrary, he and the multi-quirk boys almost let a couple people get run over by a truck head-on because they’re still too slow to keep up with endeavour. but endeavour’s words here are pointed directly at bakugou: he can’t treat hero work like school, he can’t make excuses for his shortcomings - because he has to work his ass off in order to save lives.

once again, the narrative ties bakugou’s growth with the lesson that the goal of heroism is to save other people.

CHAPTER 251

earlier that week, endeavour set the three main tenants of heroism: combat/suppression, evacuation and rescue. the intent was to show that a top hero has to do all THREE, instead of just one, but a lot of fans obviously instantly tacked one of those on each of our trio. i wasn’t surprised that most put ‘combat’ as the bakugou one. because, yeah, bakugou....battle instincts, feral boy, here to fight and win....

BUT THAT’S BECAUSE Y’ALL WEREN’T PAYING ATTENTION SINCE SOME OF YOU ARE ACTING LIKE THIS IS SURPRISING. so, let’s break it down - bakugou’s the first out of the car and first to activate his quirk. he’s so in the zone that he doesn’t even turn his head when catching his suitcase. and what does he do? he, ONCE AGAIN, just like in the ch219 fight, allows todoroki to be the one that handles the villain. instead, he uses his new supernova flashstep move to focus on RESCUING THE HOSTAGE. he catches ending by surprise, securing natsuo away from him, and blasts away to safety while also using his explosions to rip the other cars out of ending’s grasp, fully entrusting in deku’s ability to catch the cars safely and evacuate all the bystanders with zero injuries, and DEFINITELY zero corpses.

early bakugou would have immediately stormed for ending (then again, early bakugou wouldn’t have chosen to do this internship in the first place) but he’s not that guy anymore. we’re dealing with bakugou 2.0 now, and we have for a while now.

WOW, THAT WAS A LOT OF WORDS BUT I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL WE CAN KEEP ADDING MOMENTS TO THIS COLLECTION OF BAKUGOU’S LOVE FOR SAVING PEOPLE.

#luisa talks about fandoms #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #bnha spoilers

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