#this is one of the most ambitious pieces Ive done this year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sadclearance · 3 years

Text

right hand

pairing: katsuki bakugo x male!reader

summary: 5 things bakugo uses his right hand for + 1 thing bakugo uses his left hand for *wrote with “left hand” being in mind as a prequel, but can also be read as a standalone

category: fluff

warning(s): none

word count: 1500

key:

s/t - skin tone

when they were in high school, midoriya izuku noticed that bakugo katsuki--his childhood friend and bully--always started fights with a right hook.

which was incredibly powerful, albeit predictable.

midoriya still remembers a specific sunny morning in their third year when this expected yet efficient move was used for something that wasn't exactly a fight. a second year had made the unbelievably stupid mistake of--

"watch it, dumbass!"

and immediately after bakugo caught y/n before he could fall on his ass, bakugo's right fist met with the second year's nose, successfully breaking it and scorching off the hairs of the kid's eyebrows.

at the time, nobody really thought anything of it. bakugo was protective of the few people that he considered--but would never outright admit--to be his friends, and y/n was one of them.

ii.

but it was at the christmas social event that was held for the third years to get a chance to make connections as well as have fun before the end of their student years that it became clear that it was much much more than just friends looking out for each other.

"what're you doing all alone?" kaminari asked as he leaned against the wall next to y/n.

"everyone's either flirting with pro heroes or kissing their asses, and i'm not really in the mood to do either."

"yeah, i can see that," kaminari snickered as mineta got slapped in the face by mount lady after both a series of terrible flirting and a horrendous attempt to literally kiss her ass.

"surprised you're not doing the same."

"well..." kaminari said as he pointed up. he was wearing a hat with a hanging mistletoe.

"how not unexpected," y/n laughed.

"you know the tradition," kaminari winked pointing at his lips.

"okay, okay. for the holiday spirit--"

and as y/n leaned in to give kaminari a peck, a strong right hand grabbed his chin, and his lips met with a pair that belonged to someone else.

kaminari was too shocked to be disappointed after being pushed away by none other than bakugo.

"fuck off, dunce face," bakugo said before crashing his lips against y/n's.

that was one hell of a way to find out that two of his best friends were dating.

iii.

bakugo's jealousy only got worse after graduation.

but to be fair, that was his own fault.

he may have chilled out since their time together as first years, but he was still a headstrong ambitious hero.

they didn't go public with their relationship because bakugo figured it would be distracting to his goal.

which was a decision that he immediately regretted when he remembered just how attractive y/n was--something that other people clearly appreciated as well.

y/n got gifts, compliments, and very suggestive comments wherever he went, which did nothing but fuel bakugo's anger and displeasure.

there was a solution to this problem, and it was to let it be known to the world that y/n was his and his only.

instead of doing what normal couples do and going to an interviewer or announcing their relationship on his social media accounts, bakugo decided to--

"so... y/n," the barista looked at the name she just wrote on the cup and then back to y/n. "are you seeing anybody?"

"what's taking so fucking long?" bakugo asked as he came up behind y/n, right hand harshly meeting y/n's left ass cheek.

"ow! what the hell? there's paparazzi right outside of the window," y/n scolded, gesturing toward the crowd of people with cameras on the other side of the glass wall.

bakugo's only response was to press a kiss against y/n's lips, smirking into it as he saw a flash of light in the corner of his eye, fully aware of the fact that his hand was still on y/n's ass.

iv.

when he saw a building crumbling on top of y/n, he knew what he had to do.

he had faced a similar obstacle to this in his first year of high school, when he was up against round face--ochako. she had collected rubble that he had unknowingly provided and gathered it all up to the sky, later using it as a weapon by making it rain down on bakugo.

a building, however, had much more stone than a collection of collateral concrete that an individual collected over only a few minutes.

"y/n!" he shouted.

recreating the move from his first year, he raised his right hand and released a massive explosion--one much larger than the original maneuver.

he had succeeded for the most part. small bits of rubble rained down on them, but it was more like getting hit by hail than being buried by a boulder.

"bakugo!"

the mentioned man gritted his teeth and pressed the rough fingers of his left hand into his terribly cramped and pained right hand.

"you overdid it, you idiot!"

y/n rushed to get medical attention, and bakugo reluctantly let himself be pulled around.

he would've crudely yelled back that he didn't need help, but the worried look on y/n's face stopped him.

"i'm not gonna die, dumbass," bakugo rolled his eyes. the words were intended to come off harsher, and more like bakugo insulting a subordinate for not being able to see the obvious, but they came out closer to a soft reassurance instead.

"do that again, and i'll kill you myself," y/n glared. he looked more like an angry puppy.

"as if you could even land a hit on m--"

y/n's lips shut him up.

"even though that was the stupidest thing i've ever seen, thank you for saving me," y/n smiled, rubbing soft circles into bakugo's right hand.

"'stupidest thing you've ever seen'..." bakugo grumbled.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

it's been a habit to hold hands while doing almost anything since their time together at u.a.

hell, they used to hold hands throughout basically all of high school except during hero training.

subjects like math, language, history--they didn't require both hands. they only needed to write on a piece of paper, and they only needed their dominant hands for that.

so it comes as no surprise that that habit followed them to their pro hero years, pale left hand entwined with s/t right hand as they finish their paperwork.

bakugo's confusion was prompted by y/n's sudden fascination with his right hand.

"i rarely ever give this one attention," y/n shrugged.

"it's not its own being. like a pet or a person."

the look bakugo gave y/n told him that he was the biggest dumbass in history, but y/n ignored it in favor of responding, "still a part of you i rarely get a piece of."

"i hate the way you worded that, creep..."

"you're still blushing."

"in your fucking dreams!"

+i.

going to a nice place was somewhat out of the ordinary for the two of them.

bakugo was focused on being the top hero, and being the top hero meant sacrificing a lot of time.

y/n doesn't know what changed bakugo's mind so suddenly, but he wasn't about to reject a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"the breeze is so nice," y/n breathed in the fresh air of the beach.

he had ran up to the gorgeous ocean, cold water hitting his bare legs while he tried to convince bakugo to join him.

"not up to the challenge? that's rare," y/n teased, turning his back to him and going deeper into the sea.

"oh, shut your trap! i have a damn good reason."

"yeah, i'm sure you do. you sure you aren't just cold?"

"i said shut the fuck up!"

"okay, okay," y/n complied and entertained himself with the vibrant blue waves.

"i love you," came bakugo's voice abruptly.

"that's weird, you never say it first, especially not without any form or profan--" y/n turned around to give bakugo a ridiculous look, laughing as he did, only to stop almost immediately.

"fuck y--" bakugo had to stop his habitual reflex. "marry me... dumbass?"

bakugo with a nervous tone, one knee in the sand, struggling to not get up because of the annoying shifting and imbalance, and a ring in his hands was a priceless sight to see.

"yes! yes! yes!" y/n ran back to the dry sand.

bakugo grinned and accepted the kiss but broke it off sooner than he would've liked for the fear of dropping the ring and losing it to the waves.

he slid the ring on y/n's hand with a proud smile before y/n demanded to have the other ring.

"shit, calm down," bakugo laughed, but he couldn't help but feel happy that y/n was just as ecstatic.

although he was the one to say that, bakugo's left hand struggled to stay still as y/n put the ring on bakugo's ring finger.

"i love you," y/n pressed his lips against the trembling left hand once he was done.

with the rings safely on their hands, bakugo could freely go back to enjoying the treasure that was y/n's lips.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

a sequel exactly a month after

i like this format because i'm shit at transitions

i mean just look at the shift from iii to iv...

i had an idea for the right hand theme for a while now since the battle trials when izuku mentioned the right hook thing but i was like woah i could do it with this while writing left hand

#katsuki bakugo x male reader #x male reader #male reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #boku no hero academia #bnha x male reader #bnha #my hero academia #mlm #male reader insert #anime x male reader

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minecraftsz · 3 years

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this series is one of the most ambitious projects ive made, and by ambitious i mostly just mean longest with a core idea! i'm very very happy with how it turned out, and i think it represents a pretty solid step forward in my journey as an artist exploring people and their relationships. i'm really happy so many people liked seeing something long-form, and i definitely want to do more projects like this in the future (one possibly in the works rn!) [commentary under cut]

now that the part my teacher would want me to write is done, hi :) i was very nervous to post parts of this because its kind of the first time im really putting my interpretations of characters' inner workings and motivations Out There in art, and i was worried people would disagree. pretty pleasantly surprised though! these segments all started as one dialogue just for tommy, until i realized that a large portion of the ideas i had put down mostly just because they sounded cool, and not because they were that fitting to the character. i set it down, and worked on other stuff in the meantime, and when i came back i had a much better grasp on the characters and just improved writing in general. i split it into pieces and edited and reworked it on and off over the course of a few weeks - although, that makes it sound a lot more intensive than it was.

i really tried to establish a mood with these ones. i mean, i do that with almost every other comic i make like these - i love long pauses, when words just hang in the air, and i think it's a really interesting and challenging endeavour to translate that into 2d art - but i really think i got it with these. there was a specific tag on the wilbur piece that commented on that stillness that warmed my heart!! its great knowing what i tried came across.

i don't really know what the point of writing this was, to be honest! this has just been a project i was very passionate about and i didn't want to just let it die out when they finished posting.

i also want to say that i got major inspiration for the interview format from floralmarsupial's beta kids (homestuck) dream series from several years ago. if hs is your thing and you somehow don't know about their work, i seriously urge you to check it out, it's very cool!

anyway, thank you for reading :)

#now #interviews with the aftermath

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

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Words: 5,103 Gabriel x Reader Warnings: none! A/N: This is part of a series! Read Part 1 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

The first door standing open down the long hallway was obviously your bedroom, and Gabriel wasn’t shy about stepping inside. At first, he simply stood in the center and glanced around eagerly, bouncing a little on his feet as he surveyed the space.

Cas followed him in much more tentatively, but curious as to what his purpose was.

“This is it, huh?” He strolled over to the small desk in one corner and picked up an open notebook and some loose papers, studying them closely. Apparently, nothing there really held his interest because he abandoned them quickly and started sliding open desk drawers.

“This is—I think this is what humans would call an ‘invasion of privacy,’” Cas said.

“Gabriel, I really don’t think you should—” Cas tried to argue, but the archangel simply shushed him and opened the cover. He ran his fingers over your handwriting—the impressions were deep on the page and he liked the slanting, hurried cursive. “Ghouls in Minnesota, Vampire in New York, Werewolf in Arkansas… This is nothing but hunting notes,” he said with disappointment, flipping through the pages.

“What did you expect?” Cas asked him.

“Something with a little more insight into who Y/N is, perhaps,” Gabriel said, shutting and typing the journal closed again and replacing it in the false bottom of your drawer, kicking it closed with his boot. “Hopes, dreams, roots, deepest secrets… that sort of thing,” he said.

Cas’s brow drew down low over his eyes again. “Knowing Y/N, I seriously doubt you will find any of that in writing in here…”

“Well, that’s just wishful thinking. Best case scenario. I will just have to get creative,” he said. Gabriel spun and looked at the small bedside table. There was a novel sitting on it and he grabbed it, opening it to the bookmark. “Y/N is an avid reader, hmm?” he said, more to himself than to Cas. “This is an ambitious read.” He studied the bookmark which was a folded piece of paper. When he opened it, it was a printed photo of you, Sam and Dean, and Cas. Sam had his arm draped over your shoulders and all of you were smiling for once. Gabriel stared at it for a long moment and Cas watched his expression soften into a thoughtful, faraway look. Finally, he folded it up again gently and replaced it in the novel, leaving it on your side table just the way he had found it.

Next, Gabriel went over to the dresser and glanced at Cas with a smirk on his face. “You know, it’s strange but most humans keep their delicate underthings in the exact same place—top drawer—” he said, grasping the handle.

Cas slammed his hand into the drawer keeping it closed and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “I really think you’ve done enough spying.” Cas’s voice and expression were stern now, but it only elicited a mischievous glint in Gabriel’s golden eyes.

“Spying? I’m just trying to get to know this Y/N better,” Gabriel argued, doing his best to sound innocent. “I mean, so far all I know is she’s related to the two meatheads and hangs around with you. And, though it may be a surprise to you, that doesn’t actually tell me anything I’d like to know.”

“If you want to get to know her, why don’t you just go visit her now? Or wait and meet her when she’s back.”

Gabriel gave Cas a skeptical look. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Sam and Dean will have no problem with me sniffing around their Baby Sister. They’re not known to be particularly suspicious or protective.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Especially after all those Dead Dean Days…”

Cas grimaced a little at the thought. “Well… you also saved them by facing Lucifer. They will not have forgotten that. You redeemed yourself, at least in part,” Cas said, tilting his head in his familiar habit.

The archangel looked surprisingly uncomfortable with Cas’s sincerity. “Fine. Enough snooping. Come on, brother,” he said, laying a heavy hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about losing your grace and what mortality feels like.”

Cas frowned, but he didn’t object. He was glad just to get Gabriel out of your room…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several weeks later

You leaned your head back on the pillows and let out a frustrated groan. “UGH! Where is this doctor?!” you demanded.

Sam gave you a look. “I’m sure he’s on his way,” he said gently, trying to placate you.

You threw off your blankets and climbed out of the hospital bed onto your feet, moving a little hunched over as you rolled your IV stand with you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey!” Dean jumped up and stopped you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I can’t stay in that bed another minute or I’m gonna lose it!”

“We’re not even sure if you’re going to get released today, so you might as well get used to the idea that you may have to stay in that bed for a couple more days,” he retorted. “So, get back in bed!”

You vehemently pointed a finger in his face. “HEY. You’re not my doctor! You don’t get to boss me around!”

Dean drew himself up to his full height and gave you a severe look.

You didn’t waver. “I’m not scared of you!”

This drew a laugh from Sam and when you glanced over he was shaking his head. “Y/N, please just at least sit down. I’m sure the doctor—”

“—is in!” As if on cue your doctor strolled through the door, you chart in his hand. He gave you a big smile. “Alright, Y/N. Hop back up on the bed again, would you? Let’s see how you’re doing.”

He hadn’t even examined your incision yet and the words were spilling out of you. “Can I go home today?” you asked urgently.

This elicited a laugh from him and he gave you an appraising look. “As soon as I know, you’ll know,” he said diplomatically.

You tried to be a good patient and sit perfectly still as he checked your incision but you couldn’t help fidgeting and chewing your bottom lip. The doctor straightened back up and crossed his arms. “Well, no sign of infection. Incision seems to be healing nicely, so—” “YES!” you exclaimed.

“SO,” he continued through a smile, “I’m going to release you but with very strict instructions. I need you to really hear me right now, Y/N. Okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’m listening.”

“NO lifting anything heavier than a few pounds—you know what, no lifting anything, okay? Absolutes seem safer with you. And you are NOT to be doing anything physical for 3 more weeks, at which time you can start with some easy physical activity. Long walks, some stretching, that kind of stuff. And you will need to get another post-op check-up around then too.”

You nodded. “Okay. I got it.”

“Now, your brothers here ARE now in charge since I can’t be there to keep you in line,” he said, a knowing smile on his face. He must have overheard you and Dean from the hallway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you argued.

“I’m not kidding. You need to let them take care of you. And you two,” he said, pointing at Sam and Dean in turn, “need to make sure she rests.”

A gruff laugh escaped Dean. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” the doctor said. “I’ve been dealing with her for only about a month. You two have been dealing with her for a lifetime,” he joked, shooting you a glance.

“I’m right here, you know!” you burst out. “I can hear everything you’re saying!”

The doctor laughed and held out a hand to you. “Y/N, it’s been a pleasure to watch you recover. Now be well, and rest.”

This time you didn’t have anything snarky to say and just grasped his hand in yours and shook it. “Thank you. For… not letting me die and stuff.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Gentleman,” he turned to Sam and Dean who both shook his hand and thanked him repeatedly. “The nurse will be in shortly to take care of that IV and check you out. Take care.”

You watched him go with a triumphant smile on your face. Sam and Dean both looked a little anxious, however. “Oh, come on, guys! He said I’m fine. We can go home!”

“You heard the doctor though. Seriously, Y/N. You’re on house arrest,” Dean said forcefully.

“Whatever. I don’t even care. Just get me out of here,” you said climbing down to your feet again. Soon a nurse came in and removed your IV. You kicked Sam and Dean out of the room so you could change out of your hospital gown for the first time in what felt like years. Another few minutes and you were stepping into the hallway, a huge grin on your face.

Sam shouldered your bag and gave you an appraising look. “You alright?” You were still a little hunched over. Straightening up completely still made you sore.

“I’m great,” you said. “Look! I’m wearing actual clothes!” You glanced down at the sweatpants and t-shirt you had pulled on. “Sort of.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling at you fondly while shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want me to go grab a wheelchair? It’s a bit of a walk.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m being serious, Y/N,” Dean said, the gravel in his voice deepening. “You’ve only done short walks around the floor.”

“There is no way in hell you’re getting me in a wheelchair.”

You managed to make it out to the Impala, though Dean had insisted on driving right up to the exit to pick you up. You slid into the back seat and sighed. “Oh, I missed you, Baby,” you said out loud, sinking in to the familiar seat and breathing in that particular smell that always made you remember road trips and hunts and late-night cheeseburgers.

Dean smiled at you in the rearview mirror. He lowered his voice and turned to Sam. “You talk to Cas?” he asked in an undertone.

“No. It still just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Sam said. “But he texted me again… to explain the origins of pineapple,” Sam said, a tight smile on his face. “It took like 30 texts.”

“What the hell is going on with him? He’s been weirder than usual.”

“Well, he has been trapped at the bunker alone for kind of a long time…” Sam said.

“He could have talked with us if he would ever answer his goddamn phone,” Dean countered, turning onto the highway. “Maybe he’s finally cracked.”

“Who?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your hands on the back of the front seat.

“Nobody,” Dean said. You scoffed.

“That’s convincing…” you said under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting all healed up and let Sammy and me worry about everything else, alright?”

“You know, it’s weird, but my cells do that part pretty much on their own. It doesn’t require much conscious thought on my part. So, if someone has cracked—”

“Nobody’s cracked,” Dean said gruffly, hands steady on the wheel.

“You just said—"

“I just said nothing for you to worry about,” Dean said finally.

You let out a frustrated growl and changed tactics. “Fine. I’ll change the subject,” you said smugly.

“Thank you…”

“Any news on Gabriel?” you asked loudly, sinking back into your seat comfortably.

There was a long, silent pause from the front seat and you could see that Dean’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened.

Sam turned partially around, one arm on the seat back and looked at you. “You know there isn’t.” “No, I don’t know that. You two are obviously keeping something from me, so I think it is fair to assume you’re keeping other stuff from me too.”

“We really don’t know anything about Gabriel,” Sam said, sincerity written all over his face.

You chewed your bottom lip anxiously. Sam took in your expression. “Have you—seen him again?” he asked.

“No. No, nothing like that but since that happened, I just have this feeling—he said we would be seeing each other again and it’s like, in my core, I know that’s true.” You looked up and caught Sam’s eyes, they were steady on your face and narrowed slightly in concern. “I know that doesn’t make any sense and I know you and Dean said he’s gone but it’s such a strong feeling. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“I believe you,” Sam said. “For now, I guess we just have to wait…”

Many hours later, Dean finally pulled the Impala into the underground garage at the bunker and opened the door for you. Inside, an archangel and a graceless angel perked up as they heard noise in the garage. Cas shot upright and glanced over at Gabriel, who only smiled serenely back at him.

“Showtime!”

Cas gave him an apprehensive look and started off in the direction of the garage immediately. Gabriel followed, but at a leisurely pace, seemingly completely unconcerned.

But Cas didn’t know that this was mostly an act. There was a strange sensation in Gabriel’s chest and it was growing the closer he came to the moment when he would see you—meet you—for real this time, not in some mind dreamscape. He couldn’t even explain to himself why but he felt that this moment was going to change everything for him in some way—he knew no reason why that would be true. He had been fascinated with you since he first became aware again and had been thrust into some role connected with you… but he had this feeling, like a heavy block of cement in the middle of his chest sitting on top of his heart which was maddening in its oddity. It was like expectation and something more had solidified and despite all his trying he couldn’t shift it.

Dean pushed through the door into the bunker trailed closely by you, and then Sam hauling your bag and his own. “Cas?!” Dean roared. “Are you alive in here?”

Cas came hurrying around a corner in the hallway and his expression stopped all of you dead in your tracks. His blue eyes were wide and his face was quite pale, further making the shocking blue stand out.

“…what’s going on?” Dean asked. He was immediately reaching for his pistol.

“Don’t panic, but there’s someone here—”

“How is that supposed to make me not panic?!”

“Cas, do I need to get Y/N out of here?” Sam demanded over your shoulder, already trying to move around you to shield you protectively.

You were surprisingly quiet and Dean looked over his shoulder at you. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Cas, who is it?” you asked quietly.

He only swallowed at the tightness in his throat and opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation, but no sound came out. You felt like you didn’t really need him to answer anyway. You already knew.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

A second figure now came around the corner and Dean dropped his duffel bag where he stood, his fists clenched.

“Welcome home, Winchester Clan!” Gabriel said cheerfully, his arms spread wide.

There was just a stretch of tense silence between all of you which the archangel finally broke again. “Dean, if you wouldn’t mind just stepping a liiiittle bit to your right so I can—”

“What the hell are you doing here? How are you here?!” Dean demanded, his jaw tensing.

“That’s how you want to start this?” Gabriel asked, a grimace on his face. “Come on, Dean. I’m here to help. I’m not here to kill you over and over again. Not this time. I promise. Scout’s honor.” He made a small cross over his heart with one finger. Gabriel tilted his head, trying to look around Dean to get a better view of you, but it wasn’t necessary because the next moment you stepped around him slowly.

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face. You found the golden light in his eyes staggering, just as you remembered it from your vision.

“…you,” was all you could get out. Sam and Dean exchanged a tense glance.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets, actually the result of nerves, but he was hoping it just made him look nonchalant and nonplussed. “Me.”

“You’re—but you’re… What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow at you. You didn’t answer, just peered at him intensely.

He inclined his chin a little as he studied you. “Here—” he said. He moved around Cas and started toward you but was immediately met with loud yells and threats from the Sam and Dean causing him to stop abruptly and raise his hands, palms out. “Guys, guys, guys! Would you two just chill? Really! After all we’ve been through… I’d like to heal what’s left of that nasty gunshot wound if Y/N will let me. Or are you opposed to that? Because she’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on. I’m guessing she’s hiding it so you two won’t go all crazy protective over her for the rest of her life.”

“No, I’m not!” you argued. Gabriel gave you a skeptical look.

“I can feel it,” he said. When he spoke those words there was something almost desperate in them. “Let me heal you. Please.”

You swallowed hard at the nervous lump in your throat and stepped around Dean again, giving him a small glance. “It’s okay,” you said.

Gabriel stopped right in front of you and gently touched two fingers to your forehead.

You straightened up immediately and breathed in a deep breath, completely filling your lungs, something you hadn’t been able to do without pangs of pain since you’d been shot. Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a grateful but perplexed look. “Thanks.”

“Welcome home,” he said again, but this time it was quiet, like it was only for your ears. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the fingertips that had just touched your skin. They felt strange, almost like the sensation when your foot falls asleep.

Dean suddenly interrupted the moment by pushing past Gabriel and heading toward the front of the bunker at high speed. Cas turned and jogged to catch up with him, wilting a little under the scowl Dean sent his way.

“Cas, you couldn’t have given us a heads up?” Dean asked angrily.

“You don’t think I tried? He broke every single phone I had and all the new ones I managed to get a hold of. And it’s not exactly like I could just fly over, is it?” he finished bitterly.

Sam stopped next to the two of them and dropped his duffel bag. “So… all those weird texts weren’t from you,” he said with sudden understanding.

Cas looked confused. “What? Weird texts? No. What weird texts?”

The Winchesters and Cas suddenly heard laughter behind them and turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway with a satisfied smirk. Their expressions were stern.

“Oh, come on! That series of texts about the fuzzy toilet seat lid covers? The ‘bedtime thoughts’ texts? Pure genius on my part. You have to see the humor in this!” Gabriel simply watched as the muscles in their jaws twitched.

Dean rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Goddammit. What the hell is going on?” He turned and looked to Sam who was still just staring in Gabriel’s direction with somewhat wide eyes.

“It’s really not that complicated, Dean. I was sent back to watch out for Y/N. And that’s really all I know.”

This caused deep wrinkles in both Sam and Dean’s foreheads. “Okay, first of all, your definition of ‘not complicated’ could use some adjustment. I would say a DEAD archangel coming back to life is pretty complicated. Second, why does she need anyone more than us watching out for her?” Dean growled.

“Well, seeing as she was just shot and almost died I don’t think I need to really answer that question,” Gabriel snarked back.

Dean’s jaw and fists tensed and Cas stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from attempting to throttle the archangel. Gabriel only smiled serenely.

“That wasn’t their fault,” you argued, having just appeared behind Gabriel in the doorway, feeling sick again because you knew your brothers were already blaming themselves. “It could have been any one of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” Gabriel pointed out.

You looked suddenly weary. “I don’t know why we’re still talking about this at all. I’m completely fine. Better than fine now that I’m magically healed me up. I feel like there are more important things we should be discussing.”

Gabriel raised a finger, like he had a sudden idea. “You’re right. Chiefly, I need to know everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes, formative childhood experiences, deepest darkest secrets—”

You crossed your arms over your chest and were about to snark something back at the archangel but Dean beat you to it. “Alright. That’s enough!” he growled. “You were supposedly sent here to protect her, not be a total creep. You’ve just met her and you’re already trying to invade her privacy,” he said gruffly, his green eyes piercing on the angel’s face.

“Well, technically I think he already—” Cas tried to stop himself but it was too late and your eyes snapped over to Gabriel as he winced and anxiously ran a hand through his hair. Your mouth was hanging partially open and your expression was incredulous.

“What the hell did you do?” you demanded. When he didn’t answer and only shrugged vaguely, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown, you turned to Cas again who was doing his best to look anywhere but in your direction. “Cas… Cas! Look at me!”

Gabriel spun and locked his eyes on Cas as well. “Brother, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet…” he said through his teeth, keeping a forced smile fixed on his face.

“We all know you aren’t good at lying, Cas. Even a lie of omission. Are you really going to lie to me? After everything I’ve just been through?” You purposely tugged on his heartstrings and walked toward him so he had no choice but to glance at you as you moved closer. “Cas, I almost died. And you’re not going to tell me what this archangel who is supposedly here to watch out for me was up to?”

Gabriel shot you a look that was both a little stunned and impressed. “That’s low,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him and then turned back to Cas again.

You could see the internal turmoil crescendoing until it finally burst out of him. “He went through some of your things in your room. I tried to stop him but—”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, his jaw clenching with anger. Dean shut his eyes against the rising tide of rage and his fists tightened. `

Your jaw dropped open again and you turned back to Gabriel and away from a very conflicted-looking Castiel. “What the hell!?” you demanded angrily. “Haven’t you heard of privacy? What exactly gave you the right to go through my room?”

He looked a tinge guilty for a moment before rearranging his features into a questioning expression. “Well, I think I should know a little about my charge—”

You shot a glare at him that was piercing and Gabriel felt his throat tighten. “Your charge? Let’s get one thing straight right now… I’m not your ‘charge’. You do not get to boss me around or make decisions for me.”

Gabriel tilted his head and gave you a peculiar look. “Well… strictly speaking I don’t think that’s true… You see, I’m supposed to protect you which means that I get to decide—”

You interrupted him angrily. “No. No, you don’t get to decide.” You looked at Cas and your brothers who all looked pretty unhappy about what had just played out. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” As you started down the hall, you heard his footsteps following behind you and as you reached the door to your room you spun to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

Gabriel looked around as if he was expecting you to be talking to someone other than him, but he saw no one else. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m just doing my job. You said you’re going to bed so I’m going to watch over you and—”

You angrily bit the inside of your cheek. “No. You’re not. You can stay the hell away from me while I sleep. You’re not setting foot in my room again.”

“Oh, come on! Y/N, please. You’re not really mad about—”

You turned abruptly and slammed the door in his face. Okay, so maybe you were really mad… “You know I can just appear in your room! I’m an archangel. An oak door isn’t—” The door whipped open again and you stood there fuming.

“Go away.” Your voice was quiet but Gabriel could easily hear the anger in it and for now he decided just to back off. You slammed the door in his face again and he sighed heavily, running a hand back through his hair.

Sometime later, Cas wandered down the hall and found Gabriel sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall just beside your shut door, his legs stretched out in front of him. Gabriel looked at him as he approached.

Cas didn’t say anything, just took a seat beside the archangel on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and staring at his shoes. Gabriel broke the silence first. “Look how far I’ve come,” he said, his tone clearly sarcastic. “I used to lead legions and now I’ve been assigned as some kind of glorified babysitter and here I am, a fallen archangel, sitting on the floor outside her door.”

“You probably wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor if you hadn’t botched that meeting with Y/N so spectacularly,” Cas mused. To his surprise the archangel actually laughed and glanced over at him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right about that, Castiel.” Gabriel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I have a tendency toward self-destructive behavior.”

“When I was an angel, I mean—with my grace, so did I,” Cas said. “Perhaps there is something about being so-called ‘immortal’ that makes us reckless with our own lives.”

Gabriel sighed again heavily. “Perhaps.”

Cas looked over at him and he could see genuine worry on his brother’s face. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in the morning. She’s tough. Strong. But kind-hearted. She’ll let you make up for it.” Cas fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I see such a mixture of Sam and Dean in her.”

This only drew Gabriel’s brow down more deeply. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know why I was sent to protect her, but I do know how reckless the Winchesters are with their lives. And all without a single drop of grace.”

Cas’s lips curved ever so slightly in a thoughtful smile. “Yes. But selfless.”

Gabriel glanced over at his brother and felt a pang in his heart for his graceless friend. “Do you miss your trench coat and suit?” he asked him.

Cas’s eyes lifted in surprise at the question and he glanced down at his sweatshirt, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve. “I do. But… it felt wrong wearing it somehow. Like being in a suit of armor while not on the battlefield.”

Gabriel nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he broke it. “I’m sorry for being such a dick since I arrived. All the phones… all the lying… all the snooping. It’s strange to say but I had a level of-—anxiety,” he tilted his head in a question, not even entirely sure that was the right word for what he had been feeling, “about meeting Y/N. And I still messed it up.”

Cas sighed again and patted a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He climbed to his feet and looked down at the archangel, a strange sight sitting like a child on the floor during time-out. “Tomorrow. Goodnight, brother.”

#gabriel fanfics #gabe x reader #gabriel one shots #archangel #gabriel series #supernatural #spn fics #spn fanfiction

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uomo-accattivante · 4 years

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I recently came across a bunch of press articles and photos about Oscar Isaac that are so old, they appear to be out-of-print and pre-date social media. Considering they were probably never digitally transcribed for internet access, I’m guessing that the majority of current fans have never seen this stuff.

Even though a lot of these digital scans are challenging to read because they are the original fuzzy news print, I think there some gems worth sharing with you guys. Over the next several weeks, I will transcribe and share those gems on this page. Hope you enjoy them!

Let’s start with this fantastic 2001 profile piece done before Oscar was accepted into Juilliard:

South Florida’s rising star isn’t just acting the part

By Christine Dolen - [email protected]

February 4, 2001

As fifth-graders at Westminster Christian School in Miami, Oscar Isaac and his classmates were asked to write a story as if they were animals on Noah’s Ark. Oscar turned in a seven-page play – with original music – from the perspective of a platypus. Then he starred in the production his teacher directed.

He hasn’t stopped expressing himself creatively since. Today, Isaac is one of South Florida’s busiest young theater actors, and certainly its hottest. And not just because he’s a slender five-feet nine-inches tall with an expressively handsome face and glistening brown eyes.

Since making his professional debut as a Cuban hustler in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage in July 1999, he has played an explosive Vietnam vet in Private Wars for Horizons Repertory, a pot-smoking slacker in This Is Our Youth at GableStage, another Cuban on the make in Praying With the Enemy at the Coconut Grove Playhouse, the entrancing narrator of Side Man at GableStage, a Havana-based writer in Arrivals and Departures for the new Oye Rep and, most recently, a young Fidel Castro in When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba at New York’s Cherry Lane Theater.

Beginning Wednesday, he’ll be juggling five roles in City Theatre’s annual Winter Shorts festival, first at the Colony Theatre in Miami Beach, then at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts. But that is not all: During the two weeks he is doing Winter Shorts, he’ll also be playing dates with the punk-ska band The Blinking Underdogs (www.blinkingunderdogs.com), which features him as lead singer, guitarist and songwriter.

Oh, and he just got back from auditioning for New York’s prestigious Juilliard School of Drama.

All this for a guy a month shy of his 22nd birthday.

Sure, you could hate a guy who’s that talented, that charismatic, that transparently ambitious. But the people who have worked with Oscar Isaac don’t. On the contrary, they’re all sure he has it – that magical, can’t-be-taught thing that transforms an actor into a star.

Playwright Eduardo Machado, who put in a good word for Isaac at Juilliard, says “he does have that star quality that makes your eyes go to him. It’s great that someone with that talent still wants to train.”

“He has a star quality that’s rare in a young actor,” adds Joseph Adler, who directed him in Side Man and This Is Our Youth. “Without a doubt I expect to be hearing great things from him.”

‘I JUST LOVE CREATING’

Isaac, who also makes short films, can’t say exactly why he was attracted to acting. He just knows it makes him happier than anything, that it’s what he was meant to do. And he’s been doing it since he was a 4-year-old putting on plays in his family’s backyard with his sister Nicole.

“I just love creating, whether it’s music or films or a character on a stage. I love taking people for a ride,” he says. “In Side Man, every night I would love being that close to the audience. I felt like I was talking to 80 of my closest friends.

“I could feel what the audience was feeling.”

His powerful, mournful-yet-loving monologue near the end of the play, he said, “worked every night. I knew it would get them. I’d hear sniffles.

“But it had less to do with me than with the atmosphere [created by the playwright and director].”

You could understand if Isaac, surrounded as he is by praise and possibility, had an ego as burgeoning as his career. Instead, he channels the positive reinforcement into confidence about his work.

“He has such a charm and an ease onstage, but he’s very modest,” says New York-based actress Judith Delgado, who shared the stage with Isaac in Side Man. “He’s hungry. He’s got moxie. I was blown away by him.

“He saved me a couple of times. I went up [forgot a line] and that baby boy of mine came through. He’s a joy.”

FORGING HIS OWN PATH

The son of a Cuban-American father and a Guatemalan mother, Isaac was never a stellar student. But he found ways of turning routine assignments – like the Noah’s Ark story – into creative challenges.

His science reports were inevitably video documentaries underscored with punk music. He acted through middle and high school, though he had a falling out with his drama teacher at Santaluces Community High in Lantana over his misgivings about a character. When she refused to cast him in anything else, he got his English teacher to let him play the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors his senior year.

His skepticism about authority and love of playing the devil’s advocate have long made him resist doing things the usual way. His post-high school “training” consisted of one semester at Miami-Dade Community College’s South Campus (where he met his girlfriend, Maria Miranda), touring schools playing an abusive character in the Coconut Grove Playhouse’s Breaking the Cycle, and working as a transporter of bodies at Baptist Hospital, where he absorbed the drama of people in emotionally intense situations.

“It was the most magnificent dramatic institute I could’ve attended,” Isaac said. “I was able to observe the entire spectrum of human emotion, people under the most extreme duress. I was mesmerized watching the way people interacted with each other in such heightened situations.

“I learned everything about the human condition, and it was real and harsh and brutally honest.”

Yet even given his propensity for forging his own path, something nudged him another direction while he was in New York making his Off-Broadway debut in December. Walking by Juilliard one day, he impulsively went in to ask for an application. Though the application deadline had passed, Isaac persuaded Juilliard to accept his, noting in his application essay that most of the exceptional actors he admires had acquired “a brutally efficient technique” to enhance their talent by studying at places like Juilliard.

Though he won’t know whether he has been accepted until the end of this month, his audition last weekend went well, he says. He did monologues from Henry IV, Part I and Dancing at Lughnasa, adjusting his Shakespearean Hotspur to a more fiery temperature at the suggestion of Michael Kahn, head of Juilliard’s acting program – though not without arguing that Hotspur wouldn’t be speaking to the king that way.

Isaac, not surprisingly, loves a good debate.

Adler, GableStage’s artistic director and a man who is as liberal as Isaac once was conservative, savored the verbal jousting they did during rehearsals for Side Man.

“He knows exactly how to pull my chain,” Adler says with a laugh. “Intelligence is the cornerstone of all great actors, and he’s bright as hell.

“He has relentless ambition but with so much charm. He’s very hard to say no to. He has incredible raw talent and magnetism that is very rare in a young actor along with relentless energy, perseverance and ambition. I see his growth both onstage and off. He’s mature in both places.”

Part of his growth, of course, will necessarily involve dealing with the rejections that are part of any actor’s life. His career is still too new, his string of successes solid, so it’s anyone’s guess how failure will shape him. But director Michael John Garcés, who picked him for When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba after Isaac flew to New York at his own expense to compete with a pool of seasoned Manhattan actors for the role, believes his character will see him through.

“Oscar is realistic, but he’s so willing to go the whole nine yards,” Garcés says. “He didn’t go out when he was in the show here. His focus earned the respect of the other actors, some of whom have been working in New York for 30 years.

“He hasn’t had a lot of blows yet, when the career knocks the wind out of you. But he has talent, determination and focus, and if he has perseverance – my intuition is that he does have it – he could achieve a lot.”

FAMILY TIES

His father and namesake, Baptist Hospital intensive-care physician Oscar Isaac Hernandez, couldn’t be more proud. (Isaac doesn’t use the family surname in order to avoid, in his words, being “put in that Hispanic actor box.”)

“I’m ecstatic that he’s probably going to be going to the most prestigious drama school in the United States,” he says. “School will help him focus his energies and give him discipline. He’s got the raw material and the drive.”

Isaac’s mother, Maria, divorced from his father since 1992, is a kidney-transplant recipient who acknowledges that she’ll miss her son if he moves to New York. But, she adds, she wants him “to live out his dreams. He amazes me every day. He calls me every day. I’m very proud of him.”

Even the other guys in The Blinking Underdogs are fans of Isaac’s acting, though it could take him away from South Florida just as the band appears to be, Isaac says, on the brink of signing a recording deal (it has already put out its own CD, The Last Word, with songs, lead vocals and even cover photography by Isaac.

“Oscar’s the leader of the band, a great musician who amazes me and motivates us,” says sax player Keith Cooper. “I’ve been to see every one of his plays. He’s a phenomenal actor.

“I completely buy into his role in every play. As close as I am to him, I forget it’s Oscar.”

His South Florida theater colleagues credit that to Isaac’s insatiable desire to learn and grow.

Gail Garrisan, who is directing him in Donnie and One of the Great Ones for Winter Shorts, observes, “It’s not often that you find a young actor who is willing to listen and who doesn’t think he knows everything. He loves the work.

“He really brought the young man in Side Man to life. When I saw it in New York, it seemed to be the father’s play. When I saw it here, I felt it was his [Isaac’s] play.”

Oye Rep’s John Rodaz, whom Isaac calls “the best director I’ve ever worked with,” gave the actor his first important job in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage. They met when Isaac came to see Area’s production of Oleanna and the actor, knowing Rodaz ran the theater, introduced himself.

“He has so much energy and such a sparkling personality,” Rodaz says. “He knows how to move in the world. He seems to take advantage of every situation in a good way; he’s not a cold, calculating person who’ll stab you in the back.

“[But] he wants it so badly. Everything he does, he’s the leader. When I was 21, I was taking naps.”

Rodaz coached Isaac on his Juilliard monologues and found the experience energizing.

“I got chills just watching him. That happens so rarely. I was so exhilarated when I came home that I just had to go out and run. You just know he’s got all the tools.”

Christine Dolen is The Herald’s theater critic.

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#oscar isaac #vintage #juilliard #blinking underdogs #area stage company #john rodaz #gablestage #when it's cocktail time in cuba #side man #arrivals and departures #this is our youth #praying with the enemy #sleepwalkers #private wars #winter shorts #the miami herald

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 3 years

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My Personal Opinions on Some French Grand Opéras

Here we go. I’ll be focusing solely on pieces in what’s widely considered the “Golden Age” of grand opéra (from 1828 to about 1870).

1828, Auber: La muette de Portici: never seen or heard so I cannot comment, but I do think it slaps that it helped start both the Belgian Revolution and the genre of grand opéra.

1829, Rossini: Guillaume Tell: I love this one. it’s one of the few grand opéras that has a happy ending and it’s fully deserved. it’s long but it all has a point-- the first act introduces us to the community spirit that drives the rest of the action; even though it’s called Guillaume Tell, it’s not just about Guillaume Tell. it’s about a whole movement coming together, with all these vividly-drawn people of different social statuses, ages, heritages, and livelihoods coming together to do good in the world in the face of oppression. also it’s Rossini so it bops start to finish. the finale is one of opera’s best. I could not have higher praise and admiration for this piece.

1831, Meyerbeer: Robert le diable: another rare case of a grand opéra with a happy ending, but it feels a bit more contrived, something I wrote about when I watched it about a year ago for the first time. it’s quite a clever ending, however, and I love that these lovely characters get a happy ending. Robert is the least interesting principal character both musically and dramatically; the musical highlights of the show are mostly Bertram and Isabelle’s big scenes. the former is also arguably grand opéra’s most exciting ballet sequence, the Act III ballet of the nuns (or as I like to call it, the Zombie Nun Ballet). it’s long but it is incredibly worth it. overall, I really do enjoy this opera although it is very much an uneven piece.

1833, Auber: Gustave III, ou le bal masqué: here’s a thing I wrote about it like 3 months ago and I stand by every word.

1835, Halévy: La juive: It’s damn near impossible to find an even remotely close to complete recording. However, what the recordings have is excellent. The score is marvelous all the way through, although for the most part I tend to prefer the ensembles to the arias (the exception, of course, being Éléazar’s 11 o’clock number). Speaking of Éléazar, he’s an extremely complicated and frankly uncomfortable character, toeing the line between being one of opera’s most complex characters, an even more complicated proto-gender-swapped-Azucena if you will, and being an unfortunate vessel of antisemitic stereotypes. This is made even more complicated because Halévy was an assimilated Jewish composer. On the whole, Rachel is the only wholly sympathetic character in the piece, although all five of the principals are lovingly scored.

1836, Meyerbeer: Les Huguenots: *holds things in because otherwise I would write an entire essay about this opera and you all know that because I have done that several times* Both a great strength and a great weakness of this piece is its sheer wide-ranging-ness, particularly in terms of mood. Unlike, say, La juive, this opera does not have one overall mood, instead steadily progressing from bright, brilliant comedy to one of the most horrifying endings in opera. Dramatically, this is great for the most part, although the sheer amount of exposition in the first two acts may take getting used to. Just as the drama gets more intense and concentrated as the opera goes on, the music gets more intense- and frankly, more often than not better- as the opera goes on. The window/misunderstood engagement business is something I still struggle to see the exact dramatic purpose of, because I think the question of religious difference would likely be enough to separate Raoul and Valentine at the beginning anyway; to me, it feels like Scribe and Deschamps were struggling to find a way to integrate Nevers into the story, as he is crucial to the opera’s lessons about love and tolerance, so they stuck in a quasi-love-triangle in order to justify his presence earlier on. (Also, for goodness sake, could you at least have given him an onstage death scene?) Anyway, in this way the story can be a bit unwieldy and uneven at first, but stay the course with this one...and even a lot of the first couple of acts are wonderful. The characters are all wonderfully written if rather episodic in many cases, but this opera is ambitious and by the end, it’ll tear your heart to shreds. It’s amazing. Uneven, yes, but amazing nonetheless, and I will defend it to the death.

1840, Donizetti: La favorite: I’m not as familiar with La favorite as with some of the others on this list (I’ve seen two different productions once each and I have a recording of it saved to my Spotify library that I listen to bits and pieces of very occasionally) but I do think it’s an excellent piece overall. LÉONOR DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER. The music is lovely all around; I know Donizetti wrote at least one other grand opéra in full and part of another, both of which I need to check out because in its own way, Donizetti’s style works wonderfully with grand opéra.

1841: Halévy, La reine de Chypre: here is a post I wrote about La reine de Chypre. basically all my thoughts remain the same except I have to add: Halévy as a whole just needs more love. there’s a few other of his operas I have waiting (a recording of Le dilettante d’Avignon that has been sitting in my Spotify for who knows how long and a film of Clari with Bartoli and Osborn I’m also sitting on) but there are so many pieces that sound fascinating but have basically ZILCH in terms of recordings.

1849, Meyerbeer: Le prophète: before I say anything else about this opera, I need to ask a burning question: WHY THE HELL IS THERE ONLY ONE GOOD VIDEO RECORDING OF THIS OPERA?!?! on the one hand, I adore the Osborn/Aldrich/Fomina production; on the other, I would also like other productions, please. anyway, I said one time in the opera Discord that while Les Huguenots will probably always be my favorite Meyerbeer opera for an array of reasons, this one is definitely Meyerbeer, Scribe, and Deschamps’ strongest work. it is both unusually dark and unusually believable for an opera of its time—and the fact that it still holds up so well is disturbing to say the least. this opera thrives on complexity in all forms and yet has probably (and paradoxically) the simplest plot to follow of the four Meyerbeer grand opéras. the score is brilliant start to finish, mixing the best of bel canto, Romanticism, and something altogether darker, stranger, and more original. definitely one of the most underrated operas ever. the aforementioned production is on YouTube with French subtitles; give it a watch here.

1855, Verdi: Les vêpres siciliennes: Vêpres is an opera I love dearly although I have yet to find a production that is completely satisfying. I think it’s because this opera is a lot deeper, a lot more complex, and a lot more troubling, frankly, than people are willing to go. also it should be performed bilingually and I am dead-set on this: the dissonance of an opera about French capture of Italian land being sung entirely in either French or Italian is always a little off at least (and also part of the reason why my brain probably adjusted to hearing this opera in either language better than, say, Don Carlos). but anyway, neither side comes off particularly well here, particularly due to the violence and sexual assault on both sides of the equation: both Montfort and Procida are heavily in the wrong, and while Verdi sympathizes with both for personal reasons (Verdian Dad in the former case, Italian Liberator in the latter), there is a lot of troubling stuff in here. nevertheless, the music bops, the story is intriguing, and I think we can all agree that Henri and Hélène both deserved better, especially considering how close they got to bliss (although I think we can also all agree that the end of Act IV twist to almost-rom-com is pretty abrupt).

1863 (full opera: 1890), Berlioz: Les Troyens: I wrote this review of Troyens after watching it in the Châtelet 2003 production in December 2019 (first time ever watching it) and I still stand by just about every word. Such a fascinating opera, great adaptation of the first few books of the Aeneid, marvelous score (of course, it’s Berlioz!)...but could there be a ballet or two fewer, Berlioz? Or at least shorten them up? And that’s coming from someone who likes ballet. But anyway, in every other respect it’s absolutely marvelous. Some people say it’s the greatest French opera ever, and while I hesitate to say that, it comes pretty damn near close.

1865, Meyerbeer: L’Africaine (Vasco de Gama): Vasco da Gama/L’Africaine is even more troubling—much more troubling—of an opera than Vêpres to me and I wrote a whole thing here as to why. I still stand by most of it, although upon reflection, I feel like the ending that drove me so crazy has virtually the exact same idea behind it as the end of Troyens/Book IV of the Aeneid: empire has consequences and those consequences hurt real people, who, though different and not among those perceived as “heroic”, are worthy of being treated as human, not being collateral damage. (I’ve written at least two essays about this for different classes, both specifically in regards to the Aeneid.) It may be time to revisit this one. The score is lovely, after all, although it didn’t stand out to me as much as others by Meyerbeer.

1867, Verdi: Don Carlos: *holds myself back from writing a 10-page essay* y’all, there is a reason that when someone asks me what my favorite opera is, I always choose this one even though I’m horrible at favorites questions. it’s Verdi, grand opéra, romantic drama (SO MUCH romantic drama and SO MUCH gay), political drama, religious/social struggle, personal struggle, social commentary, spectacle, intimacy, masterful characterization all in one. what more could you want? I first saw/heard this opera in Italian long before I did in French, so my brain is more hardwired to hearing the Italian but both are good. my motto is “Italian or French, I don’t care, but Fontainebleau has to be there.” fuck the four-act version. I mean, I will watch four-act versions but five-act versions are just superior. I’d prefer uncut performances (the first part of the garden, the Lacrimosa, the extended opening and ending), but these aren’t dealbreakers for me. it’s the perfect synthesis of Verdi and grand opéra, much less unwieldy than Vêpres (as much I love that one), both musically and dramatically.

1868, Thomas: Hamlet: Part of me wishes this was more faithful to the actual source play (why??? the??? fuck??? does??? Hamlet??? live??? although there are alternate endings), but part of me also realizes that the play is already four hours long as is and singing it plus ballet would make it WAY too fucking long. This does a pretty respectable job. The music is gorgeous, by turns almost sugary-sweet and thrillingly ominous. The Murder of Gonzago scene is an absolute masterpiece. The Mad Scene is justifiably one of opera’s best (although I’m not sure it was a good idea to have that and a frequently-cut 20-minute ballet with no relation whatsoever to the main plot to make up all of Act IV). There are a lot of bops in this one. The four principals are closely followed and still very well-drawn. Both of the stagings I have seen were excellent. An underrated opera.

1869 (grand opéra version), Gounod: Faust: Another of my absolute favorite operas. Since this existed for a decade before its transformation into the grand opéra we all know and love, I won’t comment much about its actual format and adherence to grand opéra tropes aside from saying the Walpurgisnacht ballet is one of grand opéra’s best and extremely good at giving off Vibes TM. I used to hate how the character of Faust was written and thought he was incredibly boring. Not anymore (although of course, I still hate him as a person. fuck him tbh). This opera has a reputation for being saccharine and old-fashioned and I think that’s a bunch of garbage right there. It’s about the search for eternal youth and the expectations of conforming to social values and people’s struggles with themselves when a) they “fall short” and b) when the world ostracizes them for being “different” and “out of line”. I am also firmly convinced that Marguerite is the real protagonist of Faust (like how I’m convinced that Valentine is the protagonist of Les Huguenots if there even is a singular protagonist in that opera but I digress). The music slaps. People need to stop cutting whole scenes out of this. I’m still undecided on the order of the church and square scenes of Act IV. Marguerite and Siébel just need everything good in this world.

Anyway, those are my two cents! I tried to keep these pretty short, so if y’all want any follow-ups, let me know!

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goose-books · 3 years

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goose-books productions: a 2020 review

view the image in higher quality here! (open the image in a new tab to zoom in.) thank you to my dearest @yvesdot for the template

transcripts and month-by-month details under the cut! for reference, you can find my projects here :-) overall, new and old followers, thank you for another good year over here! [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your h

january

i spent late 2019-early 2020 working on 2019’s nano project, quark, aka the speculative fiction thing about new york city and prophets and dissections of the chosen one trope and gay people. quark is my second-oldest project (five years!), but it’s also probably the most ambitious, so it’s been... difficult to wrangle into place, and i didn’t end up finishing a first draft. oh, well.

enjoy a snippet that is devastatingly emblematic of everything about quark. the tone. the homoerotic tension. the ensemble cast all talking over each other. the fact that caelum has spent pretty much this entire scene crying. fun autopsy report meeting.

Marble stares at the notebook in Shade’s hands. Or maybe he’s staring at Shade’s hands. Dawn feels a little voyeuristic, so she does what she does and says a dumb and unrelated thing: “Augustus, I think this pizza-on-the-floor thing is hurting my ass.”

Augustus flutters his hands. “Sometimes nonconformity is painful.”

“At least we’re originals,” Caelum mumbles into his sleeve.

“Exactly,” Augustus says.

“True originality doesn’t exist,” Marble says.

“Oh,” Shade deadpans, “it’s going to be a fun autopsy report meeting.”

It isn’t.

february

in january i stressed myself out trying to make the plot of quark work. so in february, i decided to take some time and write something Entirely For Fun. like, entirely for fun, no rules. and. my god. how do i explain the project i started calling “third eye for the bad guy.”

it was an unholy mashup of many of my past hyperfixations, including the gone series, a tale of two cities, warrior cats, and the left hand of darkness. one of the characters was a canon scalie and one was a canon fictionkinnie. it centered around a polycule of wannabe-evil-overlord high schoolers. i only wrote like three chapters but i was lost in the sauce for all of february and then i just… like… wiped it from my mind and moved on? somehow??? one character was a werewolf and that literally wasn’t relevant at ALL

Someone was going to die on these steps.

This had been Ivy Lee Palomo’s thought last year during the all-school photo, and it rose in her mind again now. The one hundred marble stairs leading up to the great double doors of Saint Constantine Academy were the school’s pride and glory, steep as the mountain, sharp as the blade under Ivy Lee’s skirt. With the cutting wind and snow glazing the stone more often than not, with the freshmen wild and wired on their first day of their first year, it was really only a matter of time before someone slipped and cracked their fucking head open.

It wasn’t going to be her. Not when she had Doc Martens and reflexes like an electric coil. Still. Ivy Lee didn’t want to watch someone die. She didn’t get along with dead people.

march

in march, i got back to the project i’d started in 2019 - AMT, my podcast! it’s a shakespeare retelling set in a modern high school; this excerpt is funnier and also more unnerving in context. (double, double, toil and trouble...)

INDRAJIT: What the hell are you doing?

[PAUSE.]

DEE (like she’s lying): Making pasta.

[ALL THREE OF THEM LAUGH.]

NONA: That’s right.

MORA: We have the keys to Mab’s office.

DEE: We’re using her stove.

NONA: To make pasta.

DEE: Do you want some?

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

INDRAJIT: No.

april

and darkling rears its head! all of my other projects have existed for at least a year; darkling (specfic king lear retelling) is... special. it was conceived in april, when i started hyperfixating on king lear, and i still managed to write an absolutely ridiculous amount of content for it. it was like the power of hyperfixation let me speedrun the entire process. which. okay.

iv: control

They say Cressida Stayer was nine years old when she turned her hair to gold. They laid her down in bed blonde, and the next morning, the waves cascading down her shoulders were solid metal, glinting harshly in the sunlight, weighing her down, creating that odd head-cocked expression she still wears now. Nine years old. Two or three years before most people develop enough magic skills to dye a single curl. Much less transfigure their hair into precious metal.

People also say Leovald Stayer’s immediate reaction was to hack it off her head and melt it down for cash. But generally they say that part a lot quieter.

may

in may i wrote AMT episode 15, by which i mean that in may there was a day when i sat in my room with the door shut for literally five straight hours listening to the same three songs on loop as i wrote the climax of one of the plotlines of AMT. so. that sure was… a day.

ISAAC: Do you want… do you want someone to drive you home? Hawk, you’re worrying me -

HAWK (almost cutting him off): Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m here to help. With your… thing.

ISAAC (quietly): I… don’t know if you should be here to see this.

HAWK (a little louder, more audibly upset): Well - what else am I going to do? Go home and - and have my dads talk at me and - and not be able to answer them? Because I can’t? I can’t. I don’t know what to say.

[PAUSE.]

ISAAC (V.O.): I wonder if this is what he feels like, on the outside, looking in at me. Watching someone else hurting. Helpless and afraid.

He still fits perfectly in my arms. I rest my chin on top of his head and pull him close to me, like I can stop him from shaking, like I can stop anything from happening the way I know it’s going to. I bury my face in his hair. He smells so familiar. He’s so warm.

God, Hawk. I love you so much. You shouldn’t be here to see this. Something bad’s gonna happen. And you’re not the kind of person who belongs in a tragedy.

june

okay, honestly, i should talk about “night shift” here, because in june i wrote a whole short story in one night (and then foamed over it for a week), but i am still in the process of submitting it places! so i am terrified to put even a sentence of it online. instead: the other thing i did this month was to finish AMT! (sixteen episodes and somewhere around 175k, iirc, but don’t quote me.) these lines are the opener to the final episode!

RAHMA (V.O.): The combined series of sophomore year disasters stretched through November. It’s June now. It’s taken me… a long time to get this all put together. I was going to make a vlog about it, initially - well, calling it a vlog sounds frivolous. I was going to make a video recounting the whole deal. All of it. From when I kissed Avery Fairchilde to the very last night. I scripted dozens of drafts; I put together dozens of bullet-pointed lists of what to cover… and it was never enough. Because Avery and I weren’t the only ones involved. Even if I was only focused on the two of us, it wasn’t just the two of us.

So… I gathered up everyone else. The whole town of Ellisburg is still talking about the week the town went crazy, but it wasn’t just a week. There was a lot leading up to it. And I think if anyone’s going to talk about it, it should be us. The people who lived it. So here we are. The most ambitious Rahma Ashiq production of all time - at least so far.

july

every july i pause whatever else i’m doing to celebrate the birthday of aurum & argentate, twins from my oldest and dearest WIP The Mortal Realm. july fifteenth! mark your calendars. they’re princes, though argentate would really rather not be; you can read the full birthday piece here.

“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”

Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.

“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.

“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”

Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.

august

this summer, i wrote an entire draft of Valentine Van Velt is Dead, AKA “holden caulfield goes to exposure therapy,” AKA the weird little personal side project i keep tucked into my coat. interesting features include second-person narration from a narrator who doesn’t like the main character all that much. so reading it is kind of like the book wants to kill you? with an added dash of general melancholy.

You used to live here. That’s the thing that’s got you feeling so off.

You didn’t recognize your old house. I mean, you kind of did. You remembered that the road was on a hill. That hill felt like a goddamn forty-five degree angle when you were a kid. But if you didn’t have the address written down you wouldn’t have known it at all. It would have been just another little suburban house in rows of perfect little towns that make your skin crawl.

So now you’re in this diner looking out a gross smudgy window trying to block out the elevator music pumping through the speakers in the ceiling or whatever. I don’t know how speakers work. You’re trying to tune that shit out. The waitress comes over and catches you by surprise so you just point at some coffee thing on the menu so she’ll go away. For the record: you don’t drink coffee.

There’s a public library across the street. A little square building. You probably used to go there. The lady comes over and thunks your coffee on the table and gives you a kind of look, like she wants to know what in the goddamn hell you think you’re doing here and not at school. You sip your coffee and look out the window until she leaves you alone again. And then you spit it back into the cup because, for the record: you don’t drink coffee.

september

i spent september and october prepping for nano, so i was mostly working on darkling...

It’s late spring; still, at this time of night, on a rooftop, there’s a chill. The wind plays with the end of Ruby’s coat, with her hair. She hands the bottle off to Jasper, stares up at the fogged-over sky, wishes she were lying in Dany’s arms in Dany’s bed instead of here. Wishes, even, that Dany were the one on the roof with her. At least then they’d be cold together. At least then she wouldn’t have to imagine what Dany would say; she could just listen, and watch Dany’s flashing smile and her flinty eyes.

(She cuddles. This is another thing Dany does that Dany probably shouldn’t do, based on everything about Dany; it’s not like rattlesnakes cuddle. But Dany likes to nuzzle into Ruby’s side and rest her head on Ruby’s collarbones and toss an arm over Ruby’s chest, and hold her down like she’s worried she’ll float off somewhere. She’ll card her fingers through Ruby’s hair and hum. Even though they could get caught, even though she’s probably got better places to be - Dany cuddles.)

Ruby imagines it, momentarily, both of them on the roof together, sprawled like horrifyingly beautiful gargoyles, sharp teeth flashing, blood running hot. Up here - it’d be like they ruled the world.

But whatever. Jasper’s fun. He’s hot. He’s got a sharp tongue in a lot more ways than one. And she likes when he lets the mask down. She likes seeing the soft bits underneath. She wants to sink her teeth and nails into them so hard she draws blood. Masks don’t bleed. Ruby would know; that’s why she is what she is.

october

...though i was also in creative writing class in school, and thus ended up writing a bunch of poems of varying quality (my teacher had a real thing for poetry) and also one darklingverse short story where rory and cressida hold hands! which you can find here.

Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.

This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.

Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.

They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.

november

and then november of course was nano which was an adventure all the way through. (opening tumblr on the fifth day of nano to find out about d*stiel... was something.)

“Apologize to me. Or get out of my house.”

Gracen’s voice is very, very low. For a moment she thinks he hasn’t heard her at all. Then he spins, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”

Gracen watches her own chest heave. She pushes herself up off the desk, stands with the effort of pushing a mountain off of her back. Leovald is six-foot-four. Gracen is six-foot-two. In her heels, in the heels she must wear to be a professional woman, to be a lady - they are the same height.

Gracen wipes her nose. When she lowers her arm, there’s a streak of blood across the back of her hand. Fire shivers in her chest; her heart rings in her ears; her voice could cut steel.

“I said,” she says, low, slow, volume building, “apologize to me. Or get. Out. Of. My. House.”

december

and finally, the poem i posted this year! it’s called the beast sonnet, and you can find it in its own post over here (with commentary! how sexy.)

i kill the beast and drop down to my knees, my blade stained dark with blood of stygian hue, and for a moment these scarred hands shake free, and hold a world unfurled for me anew. but once-mourned victims, victors, vices find; fear winged me; now its absence strips me bare. my sword now dulls, my legs, my voice, my mind; the beast, pried from my throat, leaves no skill there. and still i hear it laugh, O DEVOTEE— O CHILD DEAR, NO GLORY WITHOUT ME.

i was quite productive this year; i have to think it was because i was avoiding things... the peak of my productivity happened over the summer and in november, AKA, college app hell. (almost done with the last applications! pray for me.)

a general breakdown of what occupied me this year:

(no, i don’t know why the “various other things” category ended up so large... i blame all the one-off projects i wrote a single page for, and also whatever the fuck happened in february. yes, i do know why it looks hideous; it’s because each of my WIPs has a theme color

thank you once again for spending some time at goose-books dot gov this year! what to expect for next year: well, i very much hope i can produce AMT... also hoping to get darkling ready for beta readers, so keep your eyes out!

#max.txt #and that's a wrap!!! what a goddamn year.#okay. breath in. tags:#quark tag #third eye tag #(i think there are like. two posts in that one?)#amt tag #darkling tag #tmr tag #vvvid tag #wow that was a lot of text. if you read all this... [blows you a kiss] thank you!#max actually writes #year in review

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wormmomma · 4 years

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MIDSOMMAR SPOILER REVIEW: this movie fucking broke me

CW:RAPE, ABUSE, PEDOPHILLIA

“Midsommar” is a grimm fairytale of sorts. A fairly different homage to the cult film the “wicker man”. “The wicker man” is about a european cult being investigated by a british christian cop, “midsommar” avoids the christian indictment of pagan/occult religious practices. midsommar attempts to be an out and out horror film unlike the a genre bending murder mystery/horror/thriller roots of “The wicker man”. Director ari aster obviously wanted to add to the annals of folk horror by creating an ambitious beautifully horrific and sometimes downright psychedelic film. Ari aster wanted to make a film where you can’t hide from the horror as it all happens in front of you. It's also a breakup movie for some reason? As someone who has seen the theatrical cut twice and the director's cut once I can assure you it misses the mark when taking both concepts. If you're wondering whether not to watch the film i think that on a technical level “midsommar” is beautiful and has amazing cinematography, but the answer is yes, but no. Jordan Peele was shown an advance copy of the film and told Aster "I think you’ve made the most idyllic horror film of all time" that high praise. But that being said for personal reasons this will be my final time seeing the film. I think the director's cut is a gorgeous and amazing three hour film. But as someone personally affected by rape, pedophillia, and the victimization mentally or physically handicapped people i cant reccomend this film wholeheartedly. I'm far from squeamish and love films that revel in shock, horror and extremity but I cannot in good conscious recommend a film I almost walked out on. I think Ari Aster has backpedaled immensely in his ability to create horror that exhibits empathy for his characters and the triumphs and tragedies that he subjects them too. “Hereditary” had an amount of emotional pathos for its characters that was almost completely removed from “Midsomer”. The fim feels unreasonably cruel even for a horror movie. Although enjoyable, proceed with caution “Midsommar” is a beautiful, slow, horrific but ultimately controversial mess of a film. 8/10

(the rest of this review is a plot synopsis and a meditation on the more controversial passages in the movie and is to be read for those who have actually seen midsommar. Spoilers abound!)

So what’s it about?

Midsommar is about Dani, an anxious and vulnerable young woman dating an emotionally abusive and reserved boyfriend named christian. After her bipolar sister commits suicide and murders both there parents, Dani goes on a european excursion with cristian with his anthropologist friends as they study a swedish cults midsommar summer solstice tradition. Dani reeling not only from having her parents taken from her by their favorite child, but also from the lack of any real emotional support goes on a gorgeous, psychedelia, induced nightmare of the cult horror variety. Immediately after touching down on the swedish cult's beautiful grassy commune christian manipulates dani into taking psychedelics. Christian although quite emotionally stunted and quite meek at his core is very sly and amazing at working people. Watching Christian make Dani do psychedelic drugs (mushrooms i believe) to make her clear refusal to take them into something that not only affects christian but also his friends and everyone around them is almost scary in its hilariously methodical toxicity. This leads to dani having a panic attack and from there the hits just keep on coming. Dani then has to watch as two cultist commit ritual suicide. This traumatic incident further escalated when one jumped off the mountain on his leg and needed to have his head crushed by cult members till it turns to meat and dust. To make a long three hour story with icelandic pacing short lets race to the finish line:

Christian begins to be pursued by a cult member named maja. Dani still reeling from seeing two people commit suicide has her worries invalidated by christian and all of his anthropologist bros. The anthropology bro argues about who deserves to break basically every rule of basic anthropology as they try to see who gets PAID for perverting a culture they were invited to study not disturb. Christian eats one of majas pubes. After pissing on a ceremonial tree for the dead, and taking photos of the forbidden religious text (written by an inbred autistic oracle boy) our two american secondary characters are chopped off. Dani and christian are the final outsiders left standing. Dani joins a dance competition (yes really) and becomes this year's may queen. forever to be immortalized in the annals of white female faces shown in portraits plastered in the sleeping quarters of this matriarchal cult commune. Christian is then raped as we discover how all the bodies of our other character are disposed of. Dani, inebriated and vulnerable, discovers christian being raped by the cult and forced to sleep with the 16 year old maja. Disgusted dani vomits and syncs her cries of pain with the cult sister and finally has her trauma validated. She is given the choice to then murder christian as hes trapped in a paralyzed state. Dani decides to burn christian alive in the body of a bear, finally defeating and overcoming her emotional abuser. Dani smiles as the cult writhes in pain from the death of the cult members burning alive with christian.Dani is happy. She has family. She is home.

So lets (finally) talk about maja

“Look at it from an academic perspective it would provide a unique glimpse into our sexual rights.”

“Can i not have a unique glimpse without participating?”

This is a conversation that is awkwardly cut from the theatrical version of midsommar. Christian is being offered to have sex with maja. Maja is a sixteen year old girl. The closest aster ever comes to revealing this fact is offhandedly mentioning maja having her first period. Christian refuses sex and is raped by maja, and the cult while a fourteen year old disabled child watches. There's a lot wrong with this scene. I’ll be honest for personal reasons I was really disgusted by this scene. I feel like im projecting but rape and pedophellia are really delicate topics and should be treated sensitivity. Ive seen alot of extreme very difficult horror films, i've seen rape, pedophillia, and violence explored in meaningful interesting and empathetic ways even ari asters own work like “meet the johnsons”. But watching maja rape christian with what i would assume are her older siblings, aunts, grandmothers, mother and other cult members as a 14 year old boy watches just made me feel fucking dirty. The weird part: it isn't horrific. While cristian was being raped, the audience I was watching it with were laughing. It wasn't scary. it was funny. It's a cognitive dissonance. The audience isn't aware of christians being raped or majas age. Most people assume he's cheating and deserves to be burned alive by dani. Making christian the bad guy of his own a rape is horrific but i shouldn’t need to hunt down that information and watch the film three times to understand that. It makes the movie feel as if its really bad at relaying basic information, at worst it's dishonestly hiding it to make the film more palatable. After putting all the pieces together I was disgusted. Ari aster crossed a line. I felt queasy and never wanted to see this film ever again. The fact ari aster could have made maja of age, or take the disabled 14 year old out the scene entirely, or not have had christian be raped in the first place while reaching a more understandable and tragic ending annoys me to know end, it feel like i watched these characters be used and mistreated for no reason. Just to shock me. It lacks value, it’s gross and uninteresting. much like christian and everyone involved i feel violated and it's really hard for me to enjoy watching what is an otherwise (although flawed) very interesting and compelling work or art. I’m still morbidly curious of the next film ari aster makes but i really hope he learns for this mistake and doesn't objectify children in another weird fetishistic male rape comedy routine. It just leaves me confused, disgusted and only makes it more challenging to analyze the more interesting implications of the film. I really appreciated hereditary as someone who has a very emotionally abusive family and has a very hard time processing death. I found hereditary horrific as it is cathartic. As someone who had to quite recently confront a pedophile, midsommar just left me hurt, and trapped. I was reliving some of the worst parts of my trauma as an audience sits around and laughs at it. It all felt so tragic and meaningless. I want to actually give ari asters work an honest critique but he's produced the only work of film that really hurt me and left me feeling violated. I really love his work and I know I'm exaggerating but I hope art never has such a negative effect on my mental health or anyone else’s ever again. I don't blame Maja or christian or the actor who portrayed them. I respect their performances although I have zero respect for how utterly tasteless midsommar ended up being for me. I think I need to learn how not to take art so seriously and try not to invest myself in other people's work. It's a difficult habit to kick. Needless to say, I cannot recommend this movie. If you're able to separate art from the artist and read this whole review without watching the film you're not a bad person for watching it, midsommar is a compelling, difficult experience.

I hope you enjoyed this review and I'm sorry if it got wayyy too personal in the end there. The movie clearly struck a raw nerve for me. if you enjoy this or any review i've dones let me know. I may reveiw hereditary in the future.if your also having issues with death, rape, abuse or mental health i hope this review didnt make it worse. Everyone is deserving of love, family, community and I hope everyone can find that. Have a good day, and have a safe quarantine.

#movie #reveiw #horror #cults #ari aster #midsommer spoilers #midso #midsommer #film #jordan peele #bear #analysis #critque #hot take #problematic

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bi-outta-cordonia · 4 years

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Takeshi and the Five

I got my tin foil hat on backwards and I’m ready to fucking party. This is gonna be a long one so most of it is gonna be stuck under a read more. So let’s begin:

BB today, amirite?? Shit got fucked and got fucked fast but the only person I’m really worried about is Jax and everyone closest to him. And by everyone, I mean there might be some really interesting things that could potentially explain his mentor, Takeshi Watanabe’s backstory. In today’s chapter, Jax reveals a piece of information that Takeshi told him long ago and made him swear not to say anything about: Kano, a 500 year old psychic vampire was in Japan and, despite his efforts to respect his mentor’s wishes, Jax tells the group about Kano hoping he might be able to help unlock MC’s powers to help them stop Rheya.

What we know about Takeshi is that 700 years ago, he served a powerful woman in the middle of feudal Japan. This woman was Aiko Nakamura:

She was a powerful clan head that somehow came into contact with Gauis and Kamilah during this era. They seemed to provide services to her clan, slaughtering her enemies and helping her clan gain control of various territories. In the midst of this, her father wound up passing away, passing on the title to her and leaving her in control of her clan. She developed a relationship with Kamilah but was able to determine that Gauis and Kamilah were not exactly who they said they were, that they weren't human.

After a particularly hard fought battle, Aiko summoned her soldiers and had Gaius and Kamilah divulge the truth under threat of death. They revealed to her that they were immortal and only sought to build a home for creatures like them. Sensing an opportunity, the two of them promised Aiko power beyond imagining. She could become immortal, unkillable to her enemies and conquer those that would stand against her. She took that deal.

And it seems that Takeshi did as well.

The one thing that seems to be evading us at this moment is how Takeshi went from this:

To this:

He was a samurai that served a distinguished lady and powerful family. More importantly, he was a vampire that was originally from Japan who somehow wound up in America and started a revolution of sorts with the hopes of killing the New York Council. So how did this happen? What led from point A to point B?

My theory is this: Takeshi may have served Aiko for some time but when he accepted the gift of vampirism, later down the road things changed as society changed and he was given power he had not possessed while living in service of Clan Nakamura as a human. He was given power and prestige, control that his mortal self had not known. He was given a spot on that led to him becoming one of the Five of Japan.

What we know of the Big Five comes from Jameson’s notes on them and, what Jameson did know was not a whole lot. The Big Five were secretive and did not find themselves getting involved in global affairs all that much:

They built a vampire kingdom that predates the American kingdom’s level of freedom. They also seem to have relatively powerful vampires within their midst:

I think Takeshi was given a place amongst these vampires, possessing power as an elder and holding reign over vampires that flocked to the Five and adhered to their demands. Aiko seems a woman who is ambitious and desires power for herself and the Five seemed content with having their kingdom without outside interference messing with their kingdom. I think a big part of how they were able to set up their kingdom came with Kamilah and Gaius’s help. The two of them sought to build homes in places outside of Europe, where vampires were subjected to attacks from the Order of the Dawn on a constant basis. The Five were likely among one of the first shadow kingdoms that were able to establish themselves having power in the same sectors that the Order held power in Europe--politics, infrastructure, and the like.

I think Takeshi was a part of this. I think he may have been immersed in it for some time. He could partake in the same pleasures that many of the wealthy vampires we’ve come across can. As much blood as he wants, all the flesh he could indulge in but a mere snap of a finger away--I think he may have enjoyed the power he had for some time or at least reveled in it.

But given his personality? The kind of person we come to know him as? I don’t think he’s always seen it as something that should be so easily given.

I think the Five of Japan could be as terrible as the New York Council. I think that they held power over life and death itself. I think that vampires within their shadow kingdom had to essentially grovel for mercy and prostrate on hands and knees for the right to keep their lives to some of the most powerful creatures in all of Japan. I think it may have disgusted him after a time. I think Takeshi has always been a man that was not afraid of shedding blood and fighting, but the obsession with power? The need for it? It was never in his heart the way it was for the others.

I think he may have had a falling out with the Five, but most especially Aiko. He likely served her clan out of honor. He likely joined her amongst the Five to honor his bond with her. But I don’t think he was built to be as ruthless as she was. As willing to do what it takes to obtain power of all things.

He was a man that focused on justice above all. Doing the right thing may not have come easy but he endeavored to do it when he could.

I think this falling out led to him leaving Japan and leaving the Five. I think he crossed the seas and found himself in New York City. He likely knew of Gaius setting up a shadow kingdom in America. He likely knew of Gaius’s temperament and the kind of person that he was. He would’ve heard about Gaius being killed by his progeny and a council sitting place rather than a king as Gaius intended.

I think when he arrived, he heard of the New York Council and had hope that things would be better.

When he arrived he found out that things were not.

The six clans of New York were divvied up between all of Gaius’s progeny, people who found themselves drowning in wealth beyond imagining and who held control in various sectors of power within America. Priya LaCroix, entertainment head and mistress of the night; Adam Vega, political prodigy; Lester Castellanos, head of industry; Cecil Romano IV, the “Baron,” and king of the criminal element; Adrian Raines, former soldier and technological lifeline of the New York Council; and Kamilah Sayeed, Gaius’s former queen and butcher--

Their rule was tight and their decisions were final. Only a handful of vampires were given the honor of making up their clans, around 30 between each of them. But Takeshi would’ve seen the masses that made up the unaccounted for. The ignored.

While the Council held reign, their vampires held everything but self-control. Members of their clans would feed on unwilling humans, often times draining them of all their blood and murdering them outright. In the streets, those that survive may find themselves returning to life as Clanless. Vampires with no brand and no one to support them during such a trying time. Worse yet, while these Clanless vampires walked about, their very existence is deemed a threat to the greater community. Takeshi would’ve known about the ferals. He would’ve seen firsthand what happens to vampires who exist without a proper brand and what must be done with them.

He would’ve come to America and seen the way the New York Council turns a blind eye to the atrocities their branded vampires commit and how they would condemn those that were unfortunate enough to become their victims to brutal deaths. He would’ve been in America during the last clan war that rocked the city. He would’ve seen all the helpless Clanless victims that the Council’s vampires left behind. He would’ve Turned many of them in the hopes of saving their lives. And in the hopes of forcing violent change.

It was just like with the Five. Power remained everything and those that held it abused it gleefully. Takeshi was a man of honor, a man who valued justice and had seen enough bloodshed in his life that it would’ve boiled his blood to see these things happening and know that the New York Council was fine with doing absolutely nothing.

He would’ve formulated a plan. He would’ve sought to undo the damage that the pursuit of power had done to those living back home in Japan.

Along the way, he saved a young man’s life, another victim of the Council’s indifference:

And he finds himself mentoring this young man. He teaches him how to defend himself. He nurtures the man’s background of justice and freedom at any cost. He guides him when he has nothing left. He essentially takes the young man on as a student, as a son.

Takeshi tells the young man about his past, though not all of it. He talks about a powerful woman he once knew:

And the gift he received for his loyalty. He speaks about the influence of the group that eventually came to be in Japan:

And a psychic with power beyond anything he had ever come to know:

But most importantly, Takeshi tells him that no matter what happens, the young man needs to remember the reason for why they are fighting. For why they are doing this. He tells him it’s because no one deserves to live a life under the boot heel of those that ascribe themselves superficial power. He tells him it’s because everyone deserves the chance to live a life of their own choosing.

But what he doesn’t say? Is that they do this because he refuses to let his past mistakes reflect in a blossoming kingdom that could truly be a place of complete freedom for vampires.

I think Takeshi was a part of the Five of Japan and I so look forward to seeing his history laid before us. I look forward to seeing Jax tell us about Takeshi and for us to learn the truths that Takeshi could not reveal to Jax. I look forward to seeing the conclusion of Jax’s story and hope that it will be delivered in a manner deserving of him.

Takeshi Watanabe and the Five of Japan. Jax Matsuo and perhaps the end of his story. I’m terribly excited.

#playchoices #choices #bloodbound #jax matsuo #takeshi watanabe

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cockbiteproductions · 4 years

Note

all prime numbers in the Misc section and all multiples of 10 in the other sections

we shall go backwards as the question list was posted backwards...... (and also why i rbed it.... why is it backwards? i dont know but i love it. edit: now that ive seen question 1 it looks to me like one of those forum profile copy pastes where you fill out the entire thing and put it in your profile.)

200: My crush’s name is: hmm...... well. i would rather not say!!!! they could see this post!!!!!!! and we do not want that happening.......

190: My 1st job was: lifeguard in the summer after 9th or 10th grade i think? it was decently fun. i grew up swimming competitively so the swimming part was a breeze. the remembering what to do if someone is drowning part? a bit harder. memory bad. what to do if someone has a potential broken spine/head injury when they’re in deep water? i don’t know bud. but it involves 3 whole people to get them out. 2 in the water, one person at all times holding their head in line with the rest of their body, the other one strapping them to the board (these two people in the water switch off, too) and then one person standing on the side of the pool looking very concerned. also don’t tell anyone but sometimes if i had like a 6 am shift i would get really groggy and almost fall asleep on the stand.

180: Marriage is: whatever people make of it but unfortunately bogged down with like a lot of societal expectations. to me it just sounds like hanging with your “best” friend until you die but a lot of other people interpret it differently.

170: What did you do yesterday? LOL wouldn’t it be nice if i remembered. wait no i do remember. i woke up “early” and watched a dnd livestream and struggled through buffering from my shit wifi. then i took a nap. then i had a chipotle burrito that was way too spicy. and i played a lot of minecraft. and i wrote a bit. and i also did like another 2-3 pages of the codecademy html intro course im working on.

160: Soul mates: nope. [taylor mason voice] i don’t believe in the concept of a soul. you are compatible with some people more than others and that’s based on your values and interests and personality. nothing Soul about it. it’s fun in fanfic and fiction though, but that’s because it’s fiction.

150: Blondes or Brunettes: brunettes..... i like brown hair! but blonde is nice too.

140: Mac or PC: clown face emoji. mac. It’s A Unix System. more convenient for me. my current mac is a giant piece of shit though. though i think that’s my own fault for keeping all my old files from my old mac. shoulda started over. i think i might try to get this one factory reset or something.

130: Wal-Mart or Target: idk walmart. i go there a lot during college. walmart just has a larger selection. i used to go to target a lot as a kid though because my mom liked it more. i think it’s like slightly more bougie?

120: Gay Marriage: fuckin go for it pals. sad that it took as long as it did to become legal.

110: My Neighbors: they are nice i think. the ones to the right are teachers or something. the ones to the left are.... idk. their kids were like maybe 5 years older than me and my brother when we were growing up though and sometimes they would indulge in us tiny annoying kids and hang with us

100: Cried in front of someone: when the finale of the clone wars came out a few months ago and i was sobbing and i ran into the living room to tell my roommate and friend that i was sobbing. i was sobbing. i also recorded myself watching the entire eps and i Sure Was Sobbing.

90: Texted: actual sms text, yesterday in response to a friend who texted me a tik tok. instant messaging like 20 minutes ago to milo. i havent responded yet because im answering this and i cant multitask for shit.

89: Who makes you laugh the most: me obviously. i think i’m fucking hilarious. me aside, @redvsblue is the funniest person on this planet. also my friend holly irl who shares my incredibly dumb sense of humor. also you!

83: The most difficult thing to do is: hmm........ in general or for me personally? idk..... a lot? i am not a very courageous person. so i guess being brave.

79: First time you had a crush: >:( not appreciating this line of questioning that lines up with the prime numbers/mult of 10. i will not be saying as they ALSO follow me on tumblr. though they don’t use it often. shout out to middle school.......

73: Tomorrow: hopefully wake up around 1 pm at the latest. make a plum smoothie. play some more minecraft and get more netherite (new update slaps). do more coding tutorials. get some writing done. the same ol same ol.

71: Next Summer: hopefully i will have a job lined up for the fall and the pandemic is Over. i would like to just [do nothing] for the last summer Ever before job starts. if i don’t have a job then it’s Job Hunting Time.

67: The person that makes me cry the most is: what the fuck...... like in a bad way? good way? cry of laughter? sadness? me, probably. my own damn brain be like “well it’s time to think about Yourself and be sad!” i know. very narcissistic of me. also dave filoni (director, producer, writer on clone wars).

61: My Car: not really mine. i just use it. beige 201? toyota camery. my brother tried to convince my dad he needed it more than i did last school year. my brother, who lived on campus in boston and flies to school from nc when he goes there, needs the car more than me, who lived off campus and drove to and from school to get back to nc, thinks he needed the car more than me. what a guy.

59: The movie I cried at was: last movie huh......... when was the last time i saw a movie? idk probably the rise of skywalker when leia died. i don’t know. i sure as hell didn’t cry at cats.

53: How do you like your steak cooked: i am vegetarian.

47: Who’s your best friend: @worthyghouls i guess. but also concept of “best friend” is so weird. No Best Friends. just lots of people i am good friends with. feels weird to all my other friends to pick One of them and be like “well i like you more than everyone else” :)

43: Do you have a 5 year plan: only in the vaguest vaguest vaguest sense. i would like to graduate with my bs degree. i would like to live in a city (doesn’t have to be a super big one. where im at rn is fine). i would like to have my first or second job i feel comfortable doing related to the degree i am getting. i would like to live in my own apartment (with roommates)/not with my parents. i would like to not be rent burdened. i would like my roommate to know how to take care of a cat or be okay with helping me learn how to take care of one. i would like to have a cat with said roommate. and that’s about it tbh. not very ambitious, i know. i just want a simple life......

41: Have you pre-named your children: bold of you to assume i will have children. no. if i ended up with child it would be like that tag on ao3 called “accidental baby acquisition” and i would name it on the spot.

30: Actress: hmm..... lauren marcus. lauren lopez. does fiona nova count if she’s going to be in rvb zero? also lindsay jones. aubrey plaza. idk. not many actresses i follow from project to project. it’s more i will see them in something and appreciate them in that role immensely.

20: Holiday: halloween is pretty chill. just getting candy from strangers? dope. scary aesthetic? amazing. i also like christmas just for the sole fact that i get time off from [life].

10: Restaurant: a favorite restaurant??? who has one of those???? i sure don’t. and i’m not gonna say something cringey like olive garden or mcdonalds. i simply do not have one.

#not rt #teresa answers stuff #tyty for sending in #soph with the primes as always...#nothingunrealistic1

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ghostofviperwrites · 4 years

Text

Suzuki Gunz Crime Family - Chapter 1

This is the story of the Suzuki Gunz Crime Family. It is a mafia au fic. Feedback and comments are very much appreciated. Please!

Featuring: Minoru Suzuki, Yoshinobu Kanemaru, Taichi, Iizuka

Warnings: Death, funeral, deliberate cutting, blood

December 10, 1995

Minoru Suzuki, IV stood under the black umbrella, no expression on his face as he stared at the closed copper casket that held the body of his father, Minoru Suzuki, III, kumichō of the Suzuki Crime Family of Japan. Well, former kumichō Minoru thought wryly. With his father’s passing that title had now become his. Rain fell around the mourners, puddles of water filling the dips and crevices of the expansive grass lawn of the cemetery. Minoru could feel the eyeballs on him, already plotting to usurp the family while it was weak. His lip twitched as he imagined the surprise they would be in for. The family was going to be more powerful and prosperous than ever under his reign. Minoru Suzuki the III had been complacent. Minoru Suzuki, IV knew no such word. He was ambitious and ruthless. Minoru knew his father’s kobun had already held meetings in the five days since his father’s assassination plotting to wrest power from Minoru or to put him under their control. That would never happen, he would bathe in their blood before they owned him. Little did they know Minoru was already prepared for this day. He had his pieces in play with a group loyal to him and no other. Those kobun were going to be dead and gone before they knew what hit them. This was going to his family. He had no place for those who were not loyal to him.

They thought him too young and green to run the family. Their rivals thought the family would crumble with the death of the kumichō. They didn’t realize Minoru had been trained for this day since he would could walk. It mattered naught that he was only 17 years old. He had been operating in the shadows since he was barely wet behind the ears. Carried out more missions and had killed more people than most of those baka had. They sat around letting others do their dirty work while they got fat and rich. Complacent. Minoru sneered, there was that fucking word again. He hated it. Complacency had no place in their world. You were complacent you ended up in a casket. Just ask his father.

The casket lowered in the ground, rumbles of thunder sounding as if an ominous beacon. Minoru saw it as a different kind of omen. The omen of a new beginning and the ending of an old chapter. Minoru had a different vision for his family. No longer would positions be passed to someone based solely on blood. His family would be family by choice, not blood. It would be a difficult and time-consuming task, but in the end, Minoru knew it would only increase their reach. Through the years he had seen too many betrayals by so-called family. There was no loyalty and that made him sick.

Minoru stepped forward with his mother, Asako, clasping his forearm, tossing a black rose onto the roof of the casket followed by a handful of dirt. His mother sobbed, clutching her rose to her chest as she whispered words of love to the body below. His sister, Chie, stepped forward with her Nanī following the actions of her mother and throwing her flower onto the casket. Chie was young, only 12 years old. She didn’t understand exactly what had happened. All she knew was that the father she rarely saw was dead. Tears streamed down her young face as she was led away, followed by Minoru and his mother. Passing by his best friend Yoshinobu Kanemaru on the way out Minoru met his eyes and give an imperceptible nod. Yoshinobu remained stoic giving no indication of the signal, but Minoru knew he had received it. The two had been friends since they were toddlers. They had grown up next door to each other and had recognized kindred spirits. If the Suzuki family had their way someone like Yoshinobu would have no place in their ranks, except for maybe as a lowly foot soldier. He would never rise because he wasn’t blood.

Pressing a kiss to her cheek Minoru handed his other off into her town car along with his sister and her companion. He would see them later at the wake. For now he had a meeting to attend. Perhaps it was disrespectful to his father to conduct business immediately following his funeral, but time was of the essence. He had to be the one to strike first and strike definitively.

Climbing behind the wheel of his 1994 Mercedes-Benz 240D Minoru drove through the outskirts of Tokyo to the little restaurant he had been having meetings with his men for the past year. After three attempts on his father’s life Minoru had realized it was only a matter of time before his old man met his untimely demise. So he had begun planning and setting things in motion for his eventual takeover. Parking his car around the back, Minoru walked through the rear door and into the back room they congregated at. Food had already been set out along with a bottle of Takeda Katafune Daiginjo Sake with one cup.

Minoru took his seat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair and thinking of the changes that were about to come into his life. It was sooner than anticipated, but Minoru was a firm believer in destiny. His time had come and he was ready to embrace it. With his hand selected men, nothing was going to stop his family. Hearing vehicles pull up outside the restaurant Minoru sat forward, pulling the ceremonial knife he had brought for the occasion from his interior jacket pocket and laying it on the table next to the Sake cup.

Yoshinobu Kanemaru was the first to enter, nodding his head in greeting to Minoru the sixteen-year-old took his seat at Minoru’s right side. The two remained silent, the solemnity of the occasion echoing through the room. This was a massive undertaking they were spearheading and honestly it was a bit nerve-wracking. They would be fools not to feel apprehensive, and that was not a word that could be used to describe any of these men.

Taichi Ishikari presented in the doorway next, his ever-present sneer on his face as he joined the men he considered two of his closest friends. The fifteen-year-old assumed his seat to Minoru’s left, grabbing some tempura and biting into it. Taichi was at home here. His father owned the restaurant and had forced Taichi to work here since he was 5. Day in, day out Taichi had to spend every free hour slaving away as either a waiter or dishwasher for his father. At night he had to stay behind and clean for hours, so the business would be ready to open in the morning. His father allowed them to use this room, but Taichi paid dearly for the honor. Revenge on behalf of his good friend was one of the first items on Minoru’s orders of business. He, Yoshi and Taichi had grown extremely close over the past few years and Minoru abhorred the way Taichi was treated by his father. Taichi’s father had no idea what occurred during these meetings, but he provided food and liquor for the boys and extracted the cost through Taichi later. Despite Minoru’s best efforts, Taichi refused to let them move locations. No one would ever think to look here for the boys, it was safe. He would suffer for his friends.

Takahasi Iizuka barreled through the door, running late as always. He never could manage to arrive anywhere on time. Slouching down in the seat the 19-year-old greeted his friends, eyes darting nervously around the room. Iizuka had mixed feeling about the death of Minoru Suzuki, III. The man had taken him in when he had run away from an abusive situation, so Iizuka felt a certain kinship with him for that, but he had been thrown into the family business as a henchman, given no choice but the fight or the family. If he had the choice, he would have done it freely, but Iizuka wasn’t given an option and for that he held a grudge. Minoru on the other hand had his complete loyalty. From the start Minoru had treated him as family and lobbied against his own father on his behalf. Minoru backed Iizuka up and never asked for anything in return. In addition to his duties with the family Iizuka had been training since he was 14 with the younger man in preparation for this day.

“Thank you all for coming here today.” Minoru spoke, bringing the meeting to order. “I recognize this is earlier than we anticipated, but I have no doubts that we are ready. Each of us will take the oath binding us to each other and the Suzuki Guns family. We will take what is rightfully ours and destroy those who stand in our way. Our way will lead us to success and prosperity.” He looked each of his friends, soon to be brothers in the eyes before grabbing the Sake and glass and filling it.

Rising to his feet Minoru shucked his jacket and undid his cufflinks, rolling the white long sleeve up past his elbow and grabbing the ceremonial knife.

“I, Minoru Suzuki, IV, pledge my life and my honor to this family. Henceforth known as the Suzuki Gunz Crime Family. My loyalty is to this family and no other. My men will come before all others. I accept my position as kumicho. Bond before blood.” Minoru spoke solemnly and dragged the knife down his arm, letting his blood drip into the cup of Sake. Wrapping a bandage around his arm Minoru turned to Yoshinobu.

“Yoshinobu Kanemaru, I hereby name you saiko komon of the Suzuki Gunz. You will serve as my counsel and my confidant. Do you accept this designation?” Minoru said.

Yoshi rose to his feet and accepted the knife from Minoru after rolling up his own sleeves.

“I, Yoshinobu Kanemaru, pledge my life and my honor to the Suzuki Gunz Crime Family. My loyalty is to this family and no other. My men will come before all others. I accept my position as saiko komon. Bond before blood.” Yoshi pledged, slicing open his arm and dripping his own blood into the cup. Resuming his seat Yoshi quietly bandaged his arm, watching as Minoru continued the ceremony.

“Taichi Ishikari, I hereby name you so-honbucho of the Suzuki Gunz. You will serve in my stead in my absence. Where I am not able or available to issue directive, so shall you. Do you accept this designation?” Minoru asked.

Taichi nodded pulling up his sleeve. Taking the knife from Minoru he stood with it pressed to his skin, right at the start of a scar put there by his father.

“I, Taichi Ishikari, pledge my life and my honor to the Suzuki Gunz Crime Family. My loyalty is to this family and no other. My men will come before all others. I accept my position as so-honbucho. Bond before blood.” Taichi said grinning as he split open the scar dragging the knife along it. If he was going to have a scar, it was going to be one that brings him pride.

“Takahasi Iizuka, I hereby name you wakagashira of the Suzuki Gunz crime Family. You will serve as head of our kobun. You will be responsible for the safety and security of our family. Do you accept this designation?” Minoru asked.

Without hesitation Iizuka rose and responded.

“I, Takahasi Iizuka, pledge my life and my honor to the Suzuki Gunz Crime Family. My loyalty is to this family and no other. My men will come before all others. I accept my position as wakagashira. Bond before blood.” The knife sliced open his arm and they all watched as the last member’s blood fell into the cup.

Lifting the cup and swirling it Minoru looked at each of the three men. “I couldn’t ask for better men for this undertaking. Our age is not a deterrent, but an asset. We will change this family for the better. Make it stronger. Make it richer. Make it respected. We will own Japan.” Minoru pronounced bringing the goblet to his mouth and swallowing a mouthful of the sake mixed with each of their blood.

The goblet was passed around to each of the men, each taking a deep swallow before the cup was placed back on the table.

Minoru reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a long black jewelry box and placing it on the table. The other three crowded around as he opened it, revealing four rings with a symbol reading Suzuki Gunz inlaid in black and white diamonds.

“Yoshi, Taichi, Iizuka, welcome to my family.” Minoru said handing each of them a ring before sliding his own on his finger. “And welcome to the new era of Suzuki Gunz.”

Japanese translations:

Baka - idiot or morons

Kobun – underlings

Kumichō – Boss

Nanī -nanny

so-honbucho – underboss, second in command

saiko komon – senior advisor – like consigliere in American mafia

wakagashira – first lieutenant

#sgcf #Suzuki gunz crime family #Suzuki gunz fanfic #Suzuki gunz imagine #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

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myherorp · 4 years

Photo

THE QUIRK DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED !

incoming information on vigilante, selene.

get to know them !

faceclaim: jeon jeongguk

name: min jiho

vigilante name: selene

gender & pronouns: cis male, he/him

age: 22

reputation: selene - a name borrowed from the goddess of the moon, the vigilante is never seen under the sun. wearing a black mask to conceal his identity, not much is known about him. selene operates by his own devices, his affiliation a mystery. he spends his nights on the hunt for information on buried civilian incidents, from villains to heroes, no target of selene’s is ruled out. rumor has it, selene is the vigilante seoul needs, protecting the ignored of society. others insist that selene is the failed byproduct of the pro hero system, another unregulated danger to seoul.

the quirk !

quirk name: lunar cycle

quirk description: able to use moon energy by the phases of the moon.

abilities:

lunar energy blasts - jiho is able to create balls of lunar energy, manifesting in pale, grey light - that he can use to launch, as part of a melee attack, or as a way of transportation.

lunar bolts - bolts similar to lightning emit from his hands, stronger near the full moon.

light manipulation - jiho can manipulate light from the moon, with a range of uses from lighting a path to temporarily blinding an opponent.

by the water - jiho is most in tune with his quirk near the full moon, especially so if he is near a body of water. he is able to manipulate water during the time of the full moon, an ability that greatly drains his energy when used.

weaknesses:

burn out - if jiho utilizes his abilities past the bandwidth that the current phase of the moon allows, he experiences an intense burn out from the inside out. when this happens, jiho is bedridden for a day or two.

nighttime - jiho can only activate his quirk at nighttime, when the moon is out in the sky. during the daytime, jiho cannot utilize his quirk at all.

phases of the moon - his quirk allows full bandwidth of power near a full moon, while being incredibly weak around a new moon.

fatigue - after using his quirk, jiho is in desperate need of rest, especially when using his quirk for a long period of time. in the day after using his quirk, time is often reserved for conserving his energy.

the history !

triggers: death

i. min jiho had always been afraid of the dark.

the day he was born, the moon had been full. the brightest it had ever been, his mother always said.

his mother called him a child of the night. the moon’s son.

his mother knew she would always raise her son with gentle words and tender touches, a woman with legend and spirits coursing through her. rather than practicality, she rested her fate upon the universe. a single mother, with stars in her eyes and no plan for the future, min jiho was brought into a world without regulations.

his mother adored giving life to entities, as she puts it, the owner of a quaint little flower shop on the corner of one of seoul’s bustling districts. jiho’s very first memory of her is fuzzy, but he can make out watching her sing to her audience of flowers. he found out later, that was his mother’s quirk, a woman with the healing voice to nurture plants. jiho always thought it was the coolest thing.

his mother was his very best friend. she made sure nothing would ever come to harm him.

he only ever felt scared in the dark.

ii. jiho always felt safer under the moonlight.

at five years, he woke his mother up, right in the middle of the night, insisting they go outside and look at the sky. a night of watching the clouds roll by quickly morphed to his mother laughing in delight at the pale, grey lights dancing on his palms.

“jiho, you’ve been blessed by the moon!”

from then on, his childhood was characterized by getting to know his quirk. every day, he and his mother would tend to the flower shop. they would paint, sing, dance. and each night, they would chip away at the curiosities of the moon.

iii. they never spoke about jiho’s father.

the man was a goddamn mystery to jiho. when it clicked for him, watching kids on his block run home to their fathers, he asked his mother.

“where’s my dad? is he lost?”

“no, petal,” she replied easily, a somberness young jiho could have never picked up on. “he’s done great things. you should be proud of him.”

iv. great things meant he died saving others.

his father was a hero, he learned at twelve. a hero with the undeniable power to move mountains, one that selflessly pioneered for the public safety of seoul. his strength was unmatched, until he pushed it too far.

jiho learned from an old newspaper in the school library that his father died in a building fire. he saved a family, but passed away before reinforcements could arrive.

jiho vows then, that he would do good. he would do what his father did and save people.

he wanted to be a hero.

v. thirteen meant jiho fully handled the money in their family of two.

his mother hated it. pieces of paper that dictated whether she could eat or not. naturally, jiho had to be the sensible one. when his mother began to skip meals in favor of keeping their flower shop open, jiho took on odd jobs after school to afford it all.

he told her he was out playing with friends. she knew he was lying.

vi. his very first u.y blazer was his pride and joy.

he was going to be a hero! there’s only so much classes could do for a student whose quirk only comes alive at night, but jiho was determined.

he had stars in his eyes watching pro heroes, entranced with the thought of being someone people can lean on.

the blazer eventually grew too small for him. he cried on the walk home at the prospect of having to scrape enough cash for a new one. by the time he arrived home, he wore a big smile and spoke about the imagined highlights of his day.

instead of being teased by his classmates, he told her he was praised for his diligence.

it was just easier.

vii. he should have picked up the cake on his eighteenth birthday.

things had been going relatively well. the flower shop had been flourishing, his mother’s light never ceased to dim and he was nearly finished with school. everything was going well.

jiho insisted he didn’t need a cake, just another thing to eat up at their expenses. his mother refused with every bit of stubbornness.

“today is your day, my love, and we’re celebrating it.”

viii. his mother never did return.

after the first thirty minutes, jiho assumed the bakery was backed up. it happened, from time to time, although his mother left far after peak hours.

an hour passed. jiho began to console himself. things were fine. everything was fine. perhaps the busses were slow? that had to be it.

two hours. panic drove him to hastily close up the shop, panic encouraged him to run through the streets. panic began to suffocate him upon hearing the wails of distant sirens.

ix. brain dead upon impact.

the doctors told him, this happened, rarely, from time to time. in the scuffle of a pro hero reacting to a crime, unfortunately civilians could easily get hurt. his mother was simply at the wrong place, at the horrifically wrong time. the details of the attack were brushed away, just another terribly sad occurrence.

his mother wasn’t the first to fall victim to an accident at the hands of a hero. maybe if he was there, he could have stopped it. he could have saved her.

he was numb.

her body is here, but she’s gone.

x. all jiho had left was himself.

the flower shop fell into his hands, the never ending flow of hospital bills weighed upon his shoulders. school wasn’t something he cared enough for. he dropped out of u.y a week after the accident.

resentment was a funny thing. it flourished in empty hearts.

twenty two now, the new routine has long been cemented. during the day, jiho runs the flower shop with a warm smile. selene came to be in the nightfall. selene wanted answers. for his mother. for those who fell for heros to rise.

selene isn’t scared of the dark.

selene craves the taste of revenge.

selene fights for the forgotten.

the personality !

jiho tends to be more soft spoken than most, one to listen and observe rather than run his mouth. jiho is much more comfortable in places where he can collect his thoughts on his own time.

jiho has built wall upon wall to outside eyes, wanting to be perceived as the typical flower shop keeper. nothing more, nothing less. he sees no reason for trusting anybody, having learned that no one is exactly who they say they are.

he keeps the few he loves incredibly close, often overprotective to a certain degree, which can be attributed to the unexpected loss he’s experienced in his past. once he adores someone, a rare happening, he would sacrifice anything for their safety and well being.

he has an affinity for astrology, finding solace in the stars when nothing makes sense in real life.

behind his carefully crafted persona, jiho is quite tender hearted. empathetic to a fault and endlessly ambitious, jiho has elaborate dreams of the future that he wouldn’t dare share with anyone else.

quietly cunning, jiho sports a sharp tongue reserved for loved ones for during the day, and for his enemies when night falls. selene, quite literally his alter ego, is confidence personified. slick, sly, cocky, selene is a silent threat to his targets, with no concept of good or evil.

#myheroaccepted #myherofollow #death tw

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iameverything · 4 years

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A Conversation: James Frey

(Interview written in March 2012)

“James Frey is an American writer and businessman. His first two books, A Million Little Pieces, My Friend Leonard, and Bright Shiny Morning were bestsellers. In 2019, Frey came up with the story idea for the film Queen & Slim, which Lena Waithe turned into a screenplay.“

I would first like to say that I have been a huge huge fan of you. Your books inspire me so much and makes me want to continue with my writing. With that said Iv read all your books and I have soo many questions. Lets start with the very beginning though. Everyone first heard of you from your very infamous novel ‘A Million Little Pieces’, and I am sure you got enough questions on that matter, so let me ask you instead, seeing that you met Oprah 2-3 times. When the camera is off, what kind of person is she? Oprah is cool. We’re friends now. When the camera is off she’s the same as when the camera is on.

Once I finished AMLP.. Sometime 5 years ago I realized you had a follow up titled 'My Friend Leonard’ and I found it quite heartbreaking when you truthfully find out about Leonard. I guess my question is, why wasn’t that novel put more out there in the 'lime light’ compared to your other books? Even compared to your newer ones.

It was widely read, and it hit #1 on the NYT bestseller list. It just got swallowed by all the controversy related to AMLP. I’m happy, really, whenever someone reads my work..

What would you say if a big movie producer wanted to make A Million Little Pieces into a movie?

John Welles and Brad Pitt, with Warner Brothers, own the rights to the book. They bought it in 2003.

(Side note: It was eventually made into a movie, in 2019) Speaking of movies, what did you think of the movie for the book I Am Number 4? Did it live up to your standards? And would you like to see the follow up novel 'The Power Of Six’ become a movie too? You know I was going ask 'Pittacus Lore’ that but I couldn’t find him anywhere. I dug I Am Number Four. I talked to Pittacus about it and he had a ton of fun with it, said it was honor to work with Michael Bay and Steven Spielberg. I’d love to see a sequel, though I’m not sure yet if it will happen. Do you know how many books will be in the series and how many are already done being written? I called Pittacus and asked him. There will be six books. He just finished the third one. I once read somewhere, that you were thinking of working on a tv show or mini series about porn for HBO. How is that going? I wrote a pilot for HBO about the porn business. Mark Wahlberg and Steve Levinson are producing it. It’s still in development. Hoping to shoot a pilot later this year. Lets talk your newest novel 'The Final Testament of The Holy Bible’, I have soo many questions about it but Il try and keep it down to 3 because I am sure you gotten enough questions on this novel. I guess first what I wanted to know was, has any religious folk or churches tried to chase you down the street with torches yet? There were some threatening letters but nobody actually chased me down the street. Because only ten thousand copies of the book were released, it contained alot of what might have been a bit of a mess.

When you first thought of the idea to write a novel such as that, were you trying to piss people off and is that actually a hidden agenda in the back of your mind? Live up to the 'infamous’ label? No. I wanted to write the most ambitious, most audacious, most difficult book I could think of writing. It didn’t really matter to me whether it pissed people off or not. I just wanted to write a great book. Where did the idea come from to add a scalpel to the cover? Did Dexter Morgan have anything to do with it? Ha. No. No connection to Dexter. The cross was the instrument of Christ’s death and is the symbol of Christianity. The scalpel was the instrument of my Messiah’s death and is the symbol of that book. So as we wrap up, I would like to know, being that you watch bachelor (Yes I catch your facebook status’s) and such, what yours opinion on The Bachelor Pad? It’s pretty absurd. The best reality TV is always pretty absurd. I watch those shows to laugh.

I was most curious about your 'full fathom five’ and hearing about all the young writers brainstorming ideas. Can you explain that in a litte more detail for people who dont know and how would a young writer like myself get into this wonderful program? Full Fathom Five functions under the artist’s studio model. I come up with ideas for books and work with writers to get the books written. We focus on commercial genre fiction, and try to turn all of the books into fims and TV series. If you want to write for us, send us a sample of your writing. Lastly, I would like to know what is next for James Frey? I’m mainly working on the HBO pilot. Just started another book. Not sure when it will be done. Book is new version of the Divine Comedy by Dante.

#jamesfrey #a million little pieces #oprah #writer #author #book #frey

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marcoshassanlevy · 5 years

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Screamo, emo’s slightly more ferocious outgrowth, might not be quite as big as it was around the turn of the millennium, but the subgenre still thrives in the underground; young artists still find power in its mathy arrangements and throat-destroying scream-a-longs. As it turns out, some of the most exciting bands playing this type of music at the moment come from Latin America and/or feature predominantly Latinx members.

These groups, hailing from countries like Mexico, Colombia, Ecuador, and even the U.S., share the strong work ethic and DIY principles that helped older generations of bands establish a distinct circuit for themselves. Throughout the mid ‘00s, many different post-hardcore and screamo scenes operated in the Americas, with bands releasing records on small labels as well as split releases, and in some cases, occasionally touring Europe and the U.S. These included bands such as Arse Moreira, Te Lloraría Un Puto Río, Non Plus Ultra, and Zarathustra Has Been Killed In The ‘70s from Mexico; Asamblea Internacional del Fuego. Amber, Teoría De Un Sueño Muerto, and Leidan from Chile; Árboles En Llamas, Arde Hollywood, Agitamares, and Los Años Mueren from Argentina; and Angkor Wat y Fútbol Peruano 97 from Perú.

After this relative heyday, some of the bands above have broken up, with members moving on to post-rock, powerviolence, and even indie folk—see Apocalipsis, Richard Harrison, and Garcya. However —as documented by outlets such as the blog El Basurero Del Emo— these scenes never really disappeared, “There have always been bands playing this kind of music,” says Joliette’s Azael González, who also played in Te Lloraría Un Puto Río, among other projects. “And it’s always been a global thing, all connected throughout the world. There has been a resurgence of this kind of music in the U.S. and Europe as well; there are more bands involved in the scene right now.”

Indeed, a new generation of bands making discordant music have emerged in many Latin American countries and communities, keeping the tradition alive. González thinks this new renaissance is due to the younger generation being more open-minded about genre and subgenre conventions. “I don’t think many bands today are screamo, per se. I think they take elements from that sound and mutate it into something else,” he says. “I also think that the perspective younger people are bringing into the music is very healthy. It’s like everything that you get passionate about: you find something that moves you and you surround yourself to it, even if you don’t know why it speaks to you.”

By adding musical elements from other genres and keeping things raging with heart and guts, this new generation of bands is capturing the imagination of an ever expanding pubic. Here are ten groups worth checking out.

Zeta

Although they call Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela their hometown, Zeta’s closest thing to a place to call their own is the road: they’re almost always on tour. Founded in 2003, the quartet makes spiky, passionate post-hardcore—think At the Drive-In meets Saetia—with the occasional non-standard element to keep things interesting. (Most notably, they incorporate Afro-Caribbean percussion.) Their willingness to experiment—and to play anywhere—has helped them land some notable gigs, like Gainesville, FL’s Fest. For those intimidated by their large recording output, their latest, Mochima (2019), is a further refinement of their sound, making it a great place to start.

Vientre

One of the signature aspects of this Cali, Colombia outfit is their use of melodic guitar lines against vocals that oscillate between all-out screaming and vaguely alternative rock-inspired singing; in fact, it’s not unusual for the guitars to go without distortion for many of the tracks. This doesn’t mean they’re not full of fire, though. They work at a prodigious pace—they’ve put out two full-lengths in the past two years, 2017’s Las Huellas Que Dejamos and 2018’s Semillas (a new EP, Fronteras, is expected to drop before 2019 is over). Their dedication to uniting scenes can be seen through their constant networking and touring, which has resulted in trips to Mexico and the U.S.

Nossara

This five-piece San José, Costa Rica band describes their sound as melodic hardcore, a term that has been associated with everything from Adolescents to Comeback Kid, something that leaves a lot of room for interpretation. Having said that, for Nossara, it means bridging the gap between the more commercial sounds of post-hardcore and the harsher side of emo, as heard on 2017’s Pacífico (2017) and 2019’s Sobre La Brevedad de La Vida. They also incorporate the united-we-scream attitude of classic hardcore, placing them in the same neighborhood as bands like Blacklisted.

Joliette

Since 2011, this quartet from Puebla, Mexico has refused to stop even for a second to take a break, a quality that carries through in their music. With a few transcontinental tours under their belt, Joliette has spent their time in Puebla in the studio, resulting in albums, EPs, and splits with the likes of Frameworks, Life In Vacuum, and LYED. Their latest full-length album, 2019’s Luz Devora, finds them at their most artistically ambitious, featuring to-the-point tracks like “Vacío” and “Pudre Infante” as well as longer, more atmospheric fare like “Defenestra.” Through and through, Joliette have kept their music complicated and heavy without going sacrificing gut-churning intensity, and there are no signs they’re stopping any time soon.

Quiet Fear

This L.A. quartet wear their roots on their sleeves and their lyrics; they sing entirely in Spanish, to particularly intense results on records like 2016’s Delirio, 2018’s Melodías A La Luna Muerta, and 2017’s split EP with Joliette side project Aves. Their screamy brand of hardcore uses clean guitars to sharp effect, and their jazzy arrangements up the jitter factor considerably. There’s a definite influence from the noisier corners of the Dischord Records discography—and they’ve got some of the finest screams in the business, something that has helped Quiet Fear land a spot at this year’s Fest.

Anhedonia

Perhaps there’s something in Cali, Colombia’s water. Like scenemates Vientre, Anhedonia’s music have a hint of ‘90s alt-melodicism. And there’s also real underlying sense of drama in Anhedonia’s music, something borrowed from the early ‘00s screamo scene. Their lone release so far, 2018’s Estar Rotos Nos Hace Indestructibles, features guitars that switch from melodic lines to power chords in an almost unpredictable fashion, lending the whole thing an epic feel. It’s just a matter of time until this young band ventures outside their scene and embarks on an international tour of their own.

AMBR

For contemporary artists practicing screamo, elements of math rock are useful tools used to make the music more exciting. Of all the bands on this list, Mexico City’s AMBR is probably the one that is closest to crossing over to this subgenre. There’s plenty of high-speed virtuosic runs in most of their music, making everything sound more nervous and exhilarating. Yet they are definitely a screamo band—their remarkable use of vocals, ranging from raw to melodic, makes their album Rompes/Quemas, as well as their EP Hey Joi, some of the catchiest, most challenging music to hit the worldwide screamo scene.

Finlandia/Singapur

Although this Quito, Ecuador trio is immediately recognizable as a screamo band, there’s plenty here to indicate they’re intent on expanding that sound. Their guitar work is some of the busiest and most inventive in the game, while their song structures are everything but common yet completely mesmerizing. Founded in 2014, this trio has done a little touring over the years but have not dropped a proper release so far—Facebook updates from 2018 suggest they are working on an LP. For a taste of their magic, check out Singles and 19 Junio 1955, and don’t miss out on their split with Quito post-rockers Escape From The Machinery.

El Incendio Más Largo Del Mundo

Hailing from Medellín, Colombia, El Incendio Más Largo Del Mundo are one of the most extreme bands currently operating in the screamo business. While their songs don’t qualify as skramz or emoviolence in the fast-and-loose sense, it’s extreme in a very specific and satisfactory way: vocalist Angelo Franco has a wide ranging arsenal of voices, from throat-shredding wails to harsher guttural cries and black metal-like screeches. The band’s music mutates seamlessly throughout—from thrashy riffs to math rock-like fragmented time signature to melodic motives—resulting in music that keeps listeners constantly hooked, and always guessing. Their 2018 debut album, Condenadxs, is a highlight of the recent wave of Latinx emotional hardcore.

Satón

Probably the newest band on this list, this trio from Mexico State know how to keep a listener waiting in suspense until their songs explode into shouts and distortion, a trick borrowed from ’90s underground heroes like Still-Life and Policy of 3. Tapping into post-rock as well as classic screamo, Satón demonstrate their use of dynamics and patience can pay off big time—just listen to their debut album Lleno de Hienas . From the desperate cry of (internal) war on “Transitorio” to the tension-filled slow burner “IV,” the range and inventiveness displayed here is second to none.

-Marcos Hassan

November 14, 2019 at 11:01 am

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