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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

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Hey! Love your stories on Ao3 and I’m so happy that I found some more of your work to read!❤️ If it’s okay can I make a poly request? I was thinking of a girl from our time being sent back to the lost boys and them falling for each other. There can be some angst if you want, such as her being sent back to her dimension but maybe finding a way to go back to their time after months of being away? Thank you for giving us some of the best stories ever! 💕

So, this is a pretty big request (possible spanning over multiple chapters), so I’m gonna actually write/continue this on my ao3 account! I may post the later chapters on here later, but for now I’m gonna keep them on ao3. Here’s the first chapter!

It’s Just a Movie (Fem!Reader x poly!Lost boys) fic

Next Chapter ->

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 1504

It had been a simple night. Sure, it was halloween and, sure, it was a full moon. A blue moon at that. But that didn’t mean anything, right?

You sure as hell didn’t think so as you went to see a showing of one of your favorite movies, the Lost Boys, with some of your friends. With everything going on with covid, the theaters were empty and your local one had been showing older classics for the past few weeks. They had a selection of horror lined up for halloween night, and your group had chosen to see your favorite vampire movie.

You had even dressed up for the occasion, donning a dark, almost gothic look. Hell, you practically looked like one of the extras in the opening sequence. You and your friends jammed along to the soundtrack, laughed at Sam’s antics, and nearly cried when you witnessed your four favorite vampires meet their inevitable end. A movie’s gotta have an ending, right? After Grandpa delivered the classic ending line, you and your friends packed it up to head outside.

Well, they did. You had forgotten your wallet, and you ran back into the theater to grab it. Your friends had promised to wait for you, and you fumbled to put your mask back on as you searched through the dim theater. You used your phone to find it half stuck in one of the chairs, and you quickly jogged out of the auditorium, and then the theater, to find that your friends weren’t waiting for you. And that the streets were far more packed then they had been a second ago.

Sure, there were people in halloween masks and costumes littered about, but you nearly scoffed when you saw that no one seemed to be taking any of the social distancing rules seriously. You took a step, planning on looking for your friends when you noticed that the theater had almost...changed. The outside didn’t look the same as it did before. Instead, it had the old sign outside, broadcasting what movies were playing inside. Sure, you had expected some older movies, but some of these you hadn’t even heard of. You thought it was weird, considering the theaters would probably want to stick to the most popular ones during a pandemic.

You looked back around, but your friends were nowhere in sight. You thought to walk to the parking lot, but you paused. You heard a whistle, and a wave of relief washed over you. You turned, expecting your friends, and, instead, you were met with a different familiar face. This night couldn’t have gotten any weirder.

You looked him up and down. Teased blonde hair, blue eyes, straight nose, slight stubble on his sharp jawline, a black coat paired with white pants and a mesh shirt? He was even wearing those calf things that your friends had made fun of that one time, because what the hell type of 80s fashion things are those supposed to be? You shook your head, touching one side of your forehead while thinking that perhaps you had hit your head or something while looking for your wallet. There was no way you were looking at Paul from the Lost Boys. He sent you a grin, flashing rows of straight, normal, non-vampire looking teeth, and said,

“Well, hello there to you too, doll-face. Need some company?” He asked, and you nearly thought about pinching yourself. Holy shit. Before you could answer, you heard,

“Who’s this?” And you wouldn’t have been surprised if this whole sitation wasn’t boggling your mind. As all the fans knew that where one Lost Boy was, the others weren’t far behind. You turned, and found yourself looking directly into the face of the other natural blonde. You met big, hazel colored eyes, and your eyes instinctively fell to his lips. Just in time to watch his thumb be pushed between them. Clean jaw, cherub face, golden curls, a heavy, colorful jacket, jeans, and leather chaps? There was no mistaking him. The second half of the blonde duo had arrived, and you almost wondered if the others weren’t far behind.

“I don’t know. She seems shy.” Paul said, a smile on his face as he reached out to brush a hand against your cheek. Cold fingers barely brushed against you, and you leaned back. Almost into the blonde on your other side, who had taken the spot right next to you. “I’m Paul, and that’s my buddy Marko.” Paul added, pointing at the blonde with his eyes. Before they trained themselves back onto you. Marko leaned in a bit to say into your ear.

“Your turn.” And it nearly caused you to flinch. He laughed, steadying you. “C’mon, we don’t bite.” He said with a grin, and a shiver nearly ran down your back when the taller of the blondes laughed. Too hard. If you hadn’t been so caught up in the complete and utter shock you had been experiencing you probably would have been thinking more about how these boys were vampires. Sure, it had been fun to talk about them on forums and on different apps, but suddenly you were hit with an urge to run. Especially before the other half of their gang arrived.

“I’m- I’m just looking for my friends.” You quickly blurted. You started walking, but your brain was on hyper-drive. If this was real, if this was really happening, then you were in a horror movie. And the killers had already taken an interest in you. They quickly started following, staying just as close as they had been before.

“Ooh, are they as pretty as you? We can help you find them.” Paul offered, and you almost wanted to accept. He sounded like he was just trying to be helpful, albeit flirt a little. It was the eighties, so you couldn’t quite blame him for being so persistent. Part of you really wanted to accept, but you reminded yourself. Horror movie. Killers. And they probably wanted to make you apart of the menu. You had only taken a few steps, but the shorter of the two jumped in your path. He walked backwards and said,

“C’mon, you don’t wanna walk alone, right? It’s halloween, and all the weirdos are out.” Marko started, and Paul was quick to waggle his fingers and make a spooky sound to accompany his claim. You faltered. You hadn’t necessarily thought about where you wanted to go, and the parking lot was dark. Far darker than the front of the movie theater. And emptier. You gulped, reminding yourself once again. Horror movie. Killers. You looked between them, trying to think of a way to not end up as a juicebox for the two unfairly attractive vampires in front of you.

You had to admit. You had no idea where you could go, and it wasn’t exactly like you knew what the hell was going on. As far as you were concerned, these were some of the only familiar faces you would find. That, or the Emersons. But you had no idea what time it was in their- what could you call this? Dimension? Or was this just some weird dream? Whatever it was, you had no idea if the Emersons even arrived yet or where to find Grandpa’s house. So, you were shit out of luck. You supplied your name before you quickly added,

“My friends and I- We were going to meet on the boardwalk.” You said, and the boys grinned. You knew it had to be one of their favorite places, since they went there every night. At least that's what the movie made it seem like. Maybe, just maybe, you could get there, let the boardwalk distract them, and figure out what you were going to do. And have some fun with two of the biggest heartthrobs from the eighties.

“Sweet! We can totally take you. We just need to wait for the rest of our friends.” Paul said, and suddenly every last bead of hope slipped from your body. Two vampires already had the odds against you, but all four? Especially one of them being David? You would be screwed! Before you could make something up, Marko said,

“Yeah, here they come.” And you wished that whatever this was would end. That you could go back and be in your own dimension. You turned, seeing a brunette wearing just a leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. His dark, brooding eyes practically shined in the night, and his resting face made you want to shrink in on yourself. To avoid them, your eyes flicked to the blonde besides him. Blue eyes, scruffy cheeks, and a leather jacket-trenchcoat combo paired with leather pants, boots, and leather gloves? Oh, you were so screwed. If you had any doubt in your mind that this was happening, you were sure now.

As the rest of the vampires approached, you tried to calm your oncoming panic attack with a mantra of it’s just a movie. But now you weren’t so sure.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #david the lost boys #the lost boys david #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #marko the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader

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rose2jam · 3 years

Text

Dream Sequence - Intermission 2, Ghoul Next Door

Click here for the Dream Sequence FAQ

Ship: Severus Snape x Reader/OC

Story Summary: Your name is Gwendolyn Goode. You’re a bright Hufflepuff with a knack for potions, and this is the story of how an understanding and trust between yourself and Professor Severus Snape slowly evolves over the years into mentorship, friendship, and eventual romance.

Scene Summary: Home from Albania, you receive an unexpected visitor, and an offer. "The Ghoul Next Door" by ALEX and Kendall Miles

Length: 7,442

Rating: T

Warnings: Non-explicit discussion of sexy things, language, Lockhart and Belby Bashing

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Master List

First Scene

<== Last Scene

Next Scene ==>

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Your name is Gwendolyn Goode. You’ve been out Hogwarts for a grand total of three years, and you are already entirely disenchanted with the wizarding world. Of course, it was all terribly captivating at first; landing what you thought would be your dream job, moving to a beautiful foreign country, expanding your horizons. But much to your dismay, it slowly became clear what complete and utter garbage wizards were turning out to be.

You arrived back in London a week ago, and since your return, you’ve mostly been moping around like a sad sack of shit. You’d gone back home to your mom’s apartment. Back to the room you’d slept in for most of your life, and the neighborhood you’d grown up in. On one hand, it felt good to be home with your mom, back on familiar territory. Vivian had had greeted you with open arms, and you’d cried into her shoulder for hours, almost from the second you stepped in through the door. But on the other hand, you felt more like a child than you ever had in your life.

Your bedroom hadn’t been touched while you were away. It was like stepping into a time capsule, with your innocence preserved in purple tie-dyed bed sheets, wooden beaded curtains hanging from your closet door, and a pile of stuffed animals stacked on the floor at the foot of your bed. Your youthful passions were unspoiled in the David Bowie posters still pinned to the walls, in the collection of little mushroom statuettes and figurines tucked between the books on your shelves, and in the little garden box that hung from your window sill, overflowing with out-of-control chive flowers.

Now, littered among all of your childhood relics were some new additions from Albania. A hand knit woolen blanket you’d purchased at a muggle bazaar during the tail end of your stay was draped across the foot of your bed. A bottle of Skenderbeu cognac, a local liquor you’d grown quite fond of, was sitting half empty on the nightstand beside your bed. And the memory board that hung over your writing desk was now full of photos. Moving photos, taken with a magic camera you’d bought yourself with your first salary pay. (The salary that had been magically direct deposited into your fledgling Gringotts account in the form of cash, so that it couldn’t be traced back to the depositor.) There were some landscapes, pictures of the Mediterranean gently lapping against sugar sanded beaches, and close-ups of local flora gently swaying in the breeze. But most of the photos were of a woman. A handsome woman, with short chocolate colored hair that was already flecked with grey, and dark olive skin that was riddled with waxy scars. But despite these scars, Desma Lampros was always smiling, her nose scrunching up as she winked at you through the photos.

You sighed and rolled over in your bed, facing away from the picture board. Despite the sun beating down through your window, your mind was on the full moon that was creeping up. Only five more days. You’d become so attuned to the cycles of the moon that you didn’t even need to reference your star charts any more. Had Desma figured out how to brew the potion herself yet? You’d been making it for her for the last two months, trying to teach her as a token of appreciation for being allowed to stay in her home after the project ended. Not that keeping you around was any sort of burden; you’d been sharing a bed with her for over a year, after all.

Your relationship with Desma had been easy and casual, but neither of you had ever intended for it to persist after you returned to England. (Because it was horribly unprofessional to sleep with Miss Grey, you fucking idiot. Had Belby found out what happened behind your closed door? Is that why he decided to ruin your life?) Desma was down to earth like that, and you appreciated her candor on the matter. Still, you worried for her. And laying in this narrow twin-size bed alone, you missed her terribly, too.

You missed Albania. You missed the salt air and the open ocean, waking up to warm sunlight and blue waters. You missed the Rathskeller bar and eating fresh seafood and shëndetli every other night. (You missed feeling like you were actually doing something with your fucking life.)

In the short time since returning home, your days had started blending together. You’d wake up, you’d lay in bed thinking too hard for a few hours, before having breakfast with your mother. You might run some errands, go to the shops, help around the house. Vivian would go to work in the evenings, and you’d be left in the apartment alone, where you would blast classical records and sit on your bedroom floor drinking cognac. You would flip through your research notes, trying to figure out where the cure was hidden. Then you would read and re-read the patent that didn’t acknowledge you in any line of its text. And finally, you would pour over every single note and letter you’d received from Severus Snape in the last three years, staining their pages with your tears. Sometimes you would take out the little bottle of his memory and pour yourself into that instead, letting it loop over and over as you watched the scene from every possible vantage point. Because it was calming, to be grounded by his voice again. But it wasn’t the real thing.

You closed your eyes tightly and wrapped your hands around the pendant that hung from your neck. The Phoenix Tears had never left your throat for the entirety of your stay in Albania, and they remained there now. Desma had commented on it back when you first started sleeping together, idly twirling the small bottle between her bandaged fingers as she pillowed her head against your small breasts. She teased you because it was the only thing you left on when you were together, but she seemed to understand that it was from someone special to you. She never held that against you either, and you loved her for that. Because even as you made love to her, just as you had done with Lawrence Hollingsworth in the weeks following your graduation, neither of them quite touched your heart.

Ugh… Lawrence. He’d written you twice since your return to London, but you couldn’t bring yourself to write him back. You were pleased to read that he was doing well in the Auror training corps, and he seemed genuinely concerned for you, but he just wasn’t who you wanted to see right now. The last time you’d seen him had been about two weeks before you left for Albania, on the night you’d mutually decided to lose your virginities to one another. It had been awkward, because of course it was awkward, but you’d both been eager to get that hurdle out of the way before moving along with your lives. Despite your tumultuous relationship in school, he’d become a close friend, someone you trusted, so it felt perfectly natural at the time. He’d been so sweet and gentle with you too, and you certainly didn’t regret it. But you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea if you agreed to see him again now. He wasn’t who you wanted to see… because you didn’t want to see anyone. Even if you had the opportunity, you didn’t think you could face Severus right now either.

Because you really were an idiot. A foolish, bright eyed idiot, who just blindly trusted people, and allowed them to walk all over you, because you were wired to see the best in the worst sorts of people, apparently. You let Belby use you for three fucking years. You worked your goddamn hardest, poured your mind and body into perfecting his potion for him, and you didn’t even have the ovaries to call him out when he talked down to you like you were a naïve widdle huffie-puffie. Like you were some bubbleheaded intern instead of an honest to god Potions Master just like he was.

Though… maybe you were naïve. Just look where your trusting nature had gotten you. You’d been taken advantage of by not just one, but two famous, respected, well-to-do wizards. You’d just sat there and let them steal what they wanted from you, because you were too immature to recognize when a handsome man was playing you like a fiddle.

Then again… at least one of them had ended up in Saint Mungo’s with severe memory loss. At least one of them had gotten what he deserved.

No… that wasn’t right. You couldn’t allow your heart to grow hard over this. Severus had called your bleeding heart an asset, not a hindrance. He said it’s what made you who you were. You had the sudden impulse to roll off of your bed and dig through the box of his letters to find that one, to scan your eyes over the words you had memorized since the day you’d received them. But that would require effort. And you weren’t in the mood for exerting any of that right now. And it would only serve to remind you that you hadn’t written to Severus since you’d been back to London either. That made you feel guiltier than ignoring Lawrence ever could.

Failed career. Failed relationships. Failed self-preservation. All of your teenage and childhood fears were rearing their ugly heads again. You really weren’t cut out for anything. You couldn’t venture back into the muggle world; you had no education that would be worth anything to anyone. And all the wizarding world had done was betray you. Even if you took an entry level job at an apothecary, who was to say that you wouldn’t get fucked right over out of that job too? It wasn’t even that you wanted the recognition for the work you’d done on the Wolfsbane Potion. You’d never been interested in that.

But you’d been promised something else, and absolutely no one had delivered. Slughorn had promised you a future. Belby had promised you a cure. You’d gone into this thinking you were being given the opportunity to really, truly help some of the most disadvantaged people on the planet. Instead, all of your passion and hard work had just helped Belby. You may as well have pinned the Order of Merlin to his chest yourself. Should have just handed him a front page spread in the Prophet lauding him as a hero. You’d helped him gain his fame and notoriety. Meanwhile, you were quite certain there wasn’t a single werewolf in England who could afford to brew Wolfsbane Potion this month.

You heard rattling from the kitchen. Mum was up, so that had to make it about… 11? You sighed as you stared at the wall, rubbing your fingers absently over the pendant in your hands. There was nothing you could do about any of this, for now. That’s what your mother would tell you. Your brain had been churning with the same circular thoughts for weeks, and try as you might to use your logic, to clear your mind, to return to the present moment… the present moment fucking sucked and you didn’t want to be in it either.

You felt like you should be doing something. But all of your plans for convincing the Ministry to help put Wolfsbane Potion into the hands of as many werewolves as possible, sort of hinged on the fact that you had worked on the potion in the first place. And you didn’t have any proof of that. Your research notes were all handwritten, not a single one of them dated. Even your letters to Severus never mentioned the potion directly, because of Belby’s insistence of your non-disclosure.

Music came drifting into your room now. You groaned and rolled onto your stomach, pressing your face into your pillow with dismay. She wouldn’t be playing music if she thought you were asleep. So, she knew you were awake. So, you should probably get up and go help with breakfast or something but you just… couldn’t… even remotely force yourself to do that right now. Even as your brain told your body it was time to get up, not a single nerve ending reacted to the command. In a few minutes she would probably come and knock at your door. She’d crack it open and peek her head in, and ask if you were okay. You didn’t want her to do that either. You didn’t want to tell her that you weren’t okay. That you were thinking again. That you were miserable because you couldn’t do anything about anything and you felt like your life was falling apar-

There was a knock. But it wasn’t at your door. You turned your head to the side, facing the wall with the pictures again, as if trying to see through it to the front door. Neither of you were expecting visitors, especially not this early (“early”). Package maybe? There was another clatter from the kitchen, followed by the music being turned down slightly. You couldn’t hear much over the swell Vivaldi’s Spring, but you could tell that your mother had answered the front door, and she was speaking to someone. The conversation lasted only a few minutes, before the front door shut again, followed by the shuffling of slippered feet down the hall. Moments later, there was a gentle rap at you own door, and you sat up quickly in your bed.

“Gwen, honey?” came your mother’s sleep-scratchy voice. Predictable as ever, she opened the door just enough to peer inside, her chestnut waves piled up on top of her head with a great big clip, and wearing her favorite kimono-style dressing gown. She was the picture of lazy elegance, and it would have been a perfect snapshot of a typical morning in your home, were it not for the apprehensive look gracing her face. That was new, and it made your heart pound wildly. Belby and Lockhart hadn’t been the only horrible men in the news lately… Hadn’t there been a breakout from Azkaban recently…?

Moving quickly, you scrambled out of bed, immediately reaching for your wand before stepping toward the door. “What is it?” you whispered nervously, grabbing your own plain grey dressing gown from the back of your desk chair and pulling it on over your sleep shorts and tank top. You were just getting ready to summon your shoes when you felt your mothers’ hand on your shoulder, and your head snapped up to find her smiling ruefully.

“I didn’t mean to spook you,” she whispered apologetically, rubbing your upper arm to try and soothe away your anxiety. You felt slightly more relieved by this contrition, but you craned your neck to try and see past her just the same. You couldn’t determine much through the crack in the door, and she pulled your attention back with a gentle shake of your elbow. “There’s someone from Hogwarts here to see you,” she explained quietly, and all thoughts of Sirius Black vanished as you felt all of your internal organs plummet to the ground.

“Who?” you asked hoarsely, pulling your dressing gown a little tighter around yourself. You felt like you were on the verge of swooning, caught somewhere between giddy excitement and absolute terror. There was no way… no fucking way-

“He’s got a funny name,” Vivian whispered again, shrugging apologetically as she looked over her shoulder towards the living room. “I wouldn’t get it right if I tried. But he’s one of the teachers I met when I-”

You pulled the door open quickly and slipped past her into the hallway. Even with your head swimming and your heart trying to throb its way up your esophagus, you dashed towards the living room fervently, your bare feet thudding on the carpeted floor.

‘I’d like to congratulate you in person.’

Had he really come to see you? After three years, were you finally going to get to see him again outside of a memory? You’d been fantasizing about this moment for literal months, and while it usually didn’t involve you being barefoot in your pajamas with bed-head, you couldn’t allow yourself to think too hard about this. Even though you were ashamed of yourself and embarrassed in advance, you just wanted to see him. You could feel terrified tears stinging the back of your eyes as you rounded the corner into your living room.

You had to clutch the back of the tweed couch to keep from just totally keeling over. Placing a hand against your chest, you could feel your pulse racing against your fingertips, could feel the sick feeling creeping up your throat. Your brain hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of your body, and you stuttered uncouthly as you croaked, “Puh… Professor Dumbledore?”

Albus Dumbledore stood in the center of your living room, wearing a set of pristine lavender robes and looking thoughtful as he gazed at a collection of framed watercolors hanging above the turntable. Vivaldi was still pouring from the speakers with misplaced joviality, and the whole tableau was nothing short of surreal. Despite his unexpected presence in your childhood home, he also looked surprisingly like he belonged there. The glittering silver stars on his robes and the beads dangling from the ribbon in his beard fit right in among your mother’s eclectic décor of antique constellation globes and expansive collection of crystals and taxidermy.

Dumbledore smiled serenely over his half-moon spectacles as he turned his attention to you, before raising a thin, knobby finger towards the art on the wall. “Did you paint these yourself?” he asked pleasantly, indicating the watercolors. “They’re quite charming.” They were all pictures of the same red and white spotted mushroom you’d made when you were about seven, each with slight variations as you’d tried to get the mushroom perfect, experimenting with color and saturation. You’d done it over and over until you’d gotten it right, but Vivian had framed and hung each and every one anyway. She said she liked seeing the artistic process in action.

“Uhm. Yes, I did. Thank you?” you muttered, unsure of what else to say. It was dawning on you now, the absurdity of the situation. Albus (freakin’) Dumbledore was standing in your home, admiring 14-year-old art work, and looking for all the world like he’d just popped in for a spot of tea. Beyond the utter confusion, you also felt a wash of shame over just how stupid excited you’d gotten when you thought it had been… someone else. And your mother wasn’t helping. You could see her out of the corner of your eye, giggling in the hallway with her hand over her mouth. Vile woman. She probably did that on purpose. You needed to get a handle on the situation.

Stepping around the couch, you stood before your old Headmaster, drawing his attention away from your ancient paintings once again. “Pardon me, Professor, but… what exactly are you doing here?” you asked bluntly, and were surprised to see the old man’s face light up with recollection. Like he’d just remembered why he’d come in the first place.

“Oh, my dear. I’m ever so sorry,” Dumbledore laughed genially. “Where are my manners?” He clapped one of those boney hands onto your shoulder. “We have much to discuss! And there’s no time like the present.” Looking up over the top of your head (you never realized just how tall Dumbledore really was before now), he smiled warmly to your mother, who had finally exited the hallway after having managed to compose herself. “Would it be too much trouble to ask for a cup of tea, Miss Goode?”

You jolted slightly at the name, but remembered that yeah, your mum was also Miss Goode. She was smiling lopsidedly, as though simultaneously impressed by this old man’s gall, and mildly offended at being called ‘Miss Goode’. But your mother wasn’t a bartender for nothing, and she quickly slipped back into the role of perfect hostess. “Not at all. And please, it’s Vivian.” She stepped through the living room on her way to the kitchen, turning down the music even further, until it became pleasant background noise. “Why don’t you have a seat, while I make up a tray,” she suggested, motioning towards the single tweed armchair that matched the couch.

Dumbledore smiled graciously and nodded his assent. “That would be lovely, Vivian. Thank you very much.” Nodding politely as she made her way into the kitchen, she threw you a meaningful look before disappearing behind the beaded curtain that separated the rooms. Using the hand still clasped on to your shoulder, Dumbledore steered you towards the couch, and you sat down obediently as he settled himself into the arm chair. It was comically low to the ground for someone with such long legs, his knees almost coming to his chest as he plopped down into it, but he made absolutely no complaint as he settled comfortably against the cushions. This was absurd.

“Professor…” you started to ask, but Dumbledore cut you off, raising a placating hand to beg your silence.

“Yes, yes, my dear. I’ll be direct. My reasons for being here are threefold,” Dumbledore explained pleasantly, but his words only worried you further. What kind of business could Albus Dumbledore possibly have with you? This was the first time you’d ever really spoken to him one on one. Even when your mother had visited the school after the Lockhart incident, he’d mostly talked to her. He appeared quite determined to speak to you now, though.

“Firstly, I’d like to congratulate you on the success of the Wolfsbane Potion,” he stated formally, and you felt something catch in your chest. You’d… honestly never heard those words, from anyone. Not anyone within the magical community, anyway. Because no one knew. So how… “Professor Snape told me you worked extremely hard on it,” he continued, as if reading your mind with no more than a passing glance. “And I’m sorry to hear that Damocles Belby let his greed get the better of him.”

You sat in dumbfounded silence for several moments, your arms wrapping themselves tightly around your stomach in an attempt to hold yourself together. So, he knew because of Severus… You always suspected that he kept Dumbledore abreast of your talent while you were in school; it’s how you’d caught the eye of Horace Slughorn after all. But he… continued to talk about you? Even now that you were gone? You felt your face warming up despite your best efforts, but you offered Dumbledore a small, but genuine smile of gratitude. “Thank you, sir,” you answered quietly, and he smiled warmly in reply.

“Of course, my dear. Now!” Dumbledore raised a finger, as if marking off an invisible check list. “This leads quite naturally into my second reason for coming.” He leaned forward now, his smile falling slightly with the gravity of his next words. “As I’m sure you well know, we’ve recently lost our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to a rather unfortunate accident involving a backfired memory charm.” You winced slightly, but nodded. The truth of Gilderoy Lockhart’s fraudulence and his subsequent amnesia was still making headline news as more details of his deception emerged. You were indeed well informed of the situation, and Dumbledore did you both a favor by not resuming any further on that particular train of thought.

“I have a new professor lined up to take the position,” Dumbledore explained, and the sudden sharp and serious look that hardened his features had you sitting up a little straighter. “However, what I am about to tell you is extremely sensitive information, Miss Goode, so I’d rather it not leave this room.” Your mouth fell open slightly, but your nodded immediately. It wasn’t like you had anyone to be telling secrets to anyway. Dumbledore nodded his ascent before explaining, “This new professor happens to be a werewolf.”

You started slightly, your body twitching at this revelation. On one hand, it shocked you that Dumbledore would be willing to hire someone with one of the most dangerous and stigmatized conditions in the wizarding world to teach children. But on the other hand… it also didn’t shock you at all. You always got the impression that Dumbledore was the sort of man who took care of strays.

“I have no doubt he will be an excellent man for the job,” Dumbledore continued after allowing you a few moments to process. “However, his employment hinges on him being able to control his lycanthropy during the full moon.” Ah. Now everything was coming together. You nodded slowly with your perceived understanding, and Dumbledore finally allowed a touch of a smile to reach his eyes again. “What I need to know from you, is if this potion will render a werewolf harmless enough to be considered safe to live among the student body of Hogwarts. Professor Snape tells me he has no doubt about the potion’s effectiveness, but I’d really like to hear it directly from someone who’s seen its effects in person, and who has worked with werewolves first hand.”

The mention of Professor Snape and his confidence in your potion had your face warming up again, but you nodded more enthusiastically as you considered his words. “Absolutely, sir,” you began, but you were both momentarily distracted as your mother re-entered the room from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a rustic looking brown tea pot, handmade earthen Japanese style cups, and a plate of crescent cakes. She placed the tray on the side table nestled between the couch and arm chair, before nodding to Dumbledore and winking at you with her lopsided smile before retreating to the kitchen with a rattle of beaded curtains. There were only two cups on the tray.

“The… Wolfsbane Potion is designed to give a werewolf complete control of their mental faculties,” you continued to explain, taking it upon yourself to pour tea into both cups. Dumbledore held up a hand to tell you when to stop, and you slid over the small carafe of milk, as well as the honey jar. “A transformed werewolf under the effects of the Wolfsbane Potion has all the same control over themselves as an Animagus.” You hoped this would be a useful comparison, because in truth, you weren’t actually sure of how much control that actually was, as you weren’t an Animagus yourself. But you knew Professor McGonagall was, and you’d never seen her dashing off through hallways chasing rats.

You picked up your mug, warming your fingers against it instead of actually drinking from it. “I’m not going to tell you that it renders a werewolf completely harmless. Their bite still has the potential to turn someone, even if it’s accidental. But if he takes the potion exactly as instructed, and he stays isolated during his transformation, I’m talking locked doors and Protego charms and security wards and everything, so that no one can get in, and he cannot get out until morning… I…” You hesitated, staring down into the greyish liquid cooling in your cup. It didn’t feel like your place to be saying all of this. You couldn’t be held responsible if something did go horribly wrong. But you believed in the work you had done. You lifted your head and looked Dumbledore in the eyes with a fierce sense of determination. “I feel reasonably comfortable telling you that he wouldn’t be a danger to your staff or your students.”

Dumbledore was idly stirring his tea with a small spoon as he considered you. But you could see his eyes twinkling, see that hint of a smile deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. And you smiled back. You had a feeling you’d said exactly what he’d wanted to hear, and it filled you with something like pride. “Thank you, sir, for giving a werewolf a chance, and treating him like a normal human being,” you said suddenly, overwhelmed by this man’s generosity. You remembered Desma, how she’d been living off of her meager savings since she’d been turned, unable to find any gainful employment, except to allow herself to become a test subject for an experimental potion. You wanted so much more for her. And if someone as influential as Albus Dumbledore was willing to take a chance on employing a werewolf, maybe the public eye was shifting yet. “The whole reason I wanted to work on this potion was to help people, like your Defense Professor… I’m finally starting to feel like I might have actually managed to do that.”

Dumbledore’s smile finally reached his lips now, a pleased look settling into the lines of his face as he sipped from his cup. “I believe you certainly have done so, Miss Goode. Your motivations have always been quite admirable, and once again I commend you for your efforts.” Placing his cup back onto the tray, he took up one of the crescent cakes and dipped the tip of it into his tea before taking a bite. His silver eyelashes fluttered, and you couldn’t help but smile. That was the best reaction to have to crescent cakes. “Perhaps it’s not such a shame that things did not work out with Belby. The man was a fool to turn away such a kind and courageous Hufflepuff.” Your brows pressed together at the odd sort of compliment you’d just received, but you managed to keep your smile intact as the man polished off the small biscuit. It was still a compliment, after all. Brushing a few crumbs from his beard, Dumbledore leveled you with his piercing blue gaze. And smirked. “I, however, am not such a fool. Which is why my third reason for being here, is to offer you a teaching position at Hogwarts.”

Your mouth fell open quite completely this time, and you heard a small squeak from the direction of the kitchen. You both glanced over to see the beaded curtains swaying slightly, and Dumbledore smiled indulgently at your mothers eavesdropping. His distraction gave you enough time to try and process this surprise, because frankly, it didn’t make any fucking sense. Your heart rate picked up as Dumbledore turned to face you again, and you blurted out the first thing that popped into your head. “Isn’t Professor Snape still-”

“Oh! No, no, not Potions, my dear,” Dumbledore interrupted you before you could even finish, a chuckle bubbling up from him. “I dare say, I thought you might be a little sick of potions by now. Professor Snape is indeed still the Potions Master at Hogwarts.” At this, the old man actually winked at you, and you felt your face burn scarlet. But he didn’t expand upon his actions, or even acknowledge them, but simply continued on. “No, you came highly recommended as being a potential candidate for teaching Muggle Studies. Charity Burbage hadn’t intended to keep the position for quite this long following Professor Quirrell, so there’s an opening.”

Your confusion only deepened, and you set your cup back on the tray for fear it might shake out of your hand. Who the hell had recommended you? You weren’t even remotely fit for this. Besides the fact that you had no idea how to teach, you’d never even taken the course. Because why would you? You didn’t even know what was taught in Muggle Studies. Was it a Sociology class? Anthropology? Or more like history, or science? You were absently cracking your knuckles against your lap, a nervous fidget you’d never worked yourself out of, but stopped immediately upon the first loud pop, startling yourself out of your thoughts. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” you finally admitted, looking up sheepishly from your twisting hands. “I… I don’t know why you would think I’m qualified to teach at Hogwarts. I never took Muggle Studies and I-”

Dumbledore held up a hand to quiet you, and you obeyed, your eyes never leaving his as he smiled patiently. “I don’t believe taking the class is a requirement for being able to teach it, seeing as how you live it. You’ve had 21 years of experience, correct?” You huffed out a short laugh, smiling warily as you nodded your head. You couldn’t argue with that, and Dumbledore certainly didn’t want you to. He was tracing his moustache with his long fingers now, considering you with a rather scrutinizing look. “I was also told that you tutored Mr. Lawrence Hollingsworth through his O.W.L.’s and N.E.W.T.’s to great success, seeing as he’s well on his way to becoming an Auror now. So, I have no doubt of your ability to teach either.” You blushed again at that, for several reasons. But you’d never thought of it that way. You… supposed you had taught Lawrence quite a bit. And you’d been teaching Desma for the last few months as well. You never thought you’d had a knack for teaching but…

Dumbledore could clearly see the wheels in your head turning, and the fact that you were even taking the time to think about it seemed to be all he needed. Reaching deep into the pockets of his lavender robes, he extracted what looked like two tiny squares of chocolate. But upon casting an engorgement charm, they turned out to be two rather large books, which he placed on the low coffee table before the couch. “I took it upon myself to bring the lesson plans developed by both Quirinus Quirrell and Charity Burbage for you to look over. You’re welcome to adapt and change them as you please, of course. Muggle Studies is a very broad subject, after all.” He said all of this with a maddeningly tranquil smile, like he was giving you a choice, but not really, because he knew you had already made your choice. Despite this perceived smugness, he was also looking at you with an incredible amount of fondness and warmth. “I thought this might be a nice change for you, Miss Goode. Leave the whole business with Belby behind, and give you something productive to do in the meantime.”

You stared down at the books, trying to absorb all of this. That… was a very kind offer, and you recognized it as such. It would be a nice change of pace. How hard could it be? You wouldn’t have to worry about trying to find a job in the potions field any more. Didn’t have to settle for a stagnant apothecary job, or allow yourself to be fucked over by another shitty Potions Master with grand ambitions. Maybe you could even do your own research on the side. Hadn’t Snape said something like that in your fifth year?

Snape…

“Who recommended me?” you asked suddenly, looking up from the books to Dumbledore, who was finishing the last of his tea. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you considered the implications of all of this. You could see him again. You could work with him again. You might… might even…

Dumbledore’s answer was another wink, accompanied with an enigmatic smile as he hoisted himself out of the low arm chair. You winced as you heard his bones crack and pop, but he otherwise seemed unaffected as he smoothed out his robes. “Term starts on the first of September, as I’m sure you know,” he replied cheerfully, completely ignoring your enquiry as he tented his long, thin fingers against his midsection. “If you accept the position, I invite you to arrive to the castle two weeks prior. That will give you some time to settle in and reacquaint yourself with the castle. Do you accept?”

You started, sitting up straight but making no move to stand as well. This was all happening very suddenly, and you felt a little thrill of dread and excitement course through your chest. “Do I have to make the decision right now?” you asked cautiously, and the way his smile persisted didn’t soothe you at all.

“Do you really need to think about it, Miss Goode?” he asked simply, before holding one of those pale, boney hands out for you to take.

You stared at it, your head swimming again as you tried to rush through your options. But what options did you have, really? You could stay here and wallow your life away in self-pity before getting a dead-end job you were going to hate.

Or you could go back to Hogwarts.

Why were you even thinking about this?

“I suppose I don’t,” you answered finally, your voice quivering as you accepted his proffered hand. His grip was surprisingly strong as he helped to pull you up out of your seat, and he held your hand lightly as he waited expectantly. “Yes, I accept.”

He clasped your hands with both of his, shaking it enthusiastically. “Splendid! Just splendid. Hogwarts will be thrilled to have you back within its halls, I am sure of it.” Releasing your hand, he fished around in his robes once again, this time extracting a gold pocket watch. You weren’t particularly surprised to find that it had twelve hands, and planets instead of numbers. That… just seemed like a perfectly normal Dumbledore thing to have. “I’ll see you on the 17th or thereabouts,” he said, before slipping the watch back into his robes. “You’re welcome to take the Hogwarts Express if you like, or you may simply Apparate to Hogsmeade. Whichever you find most convenient.”

You were doing your own time keeping in your head, and you had an abrupt realization as you considered your early arrival and the start of term. The words spilled out of you before you could stop them. “The new Defense professor… Will he be arriving early too?” you asked, trying not to sound too eager about it. “There will be a full moon the day before term begins. I could possibly-”

“I believe Professor Lupin has opted to work out that transformation in the comfort of his own home,” Dumbledore cut in quickly. He was very good at interrupting you. Or perhaps at reading your mind. “He’ll be arriving on the first with the rest of the students.” You deflated slightly, as you were rather eager to meet this man. Or, at least, eager to meet a werewolf you hadn’t been working with for three years. You were a little ashamed to admit that you wanted to know how other werewolves felt about the potion you’d helped to create. But you figured you’d still get to chance to speak with him about it. You’d be coworkers, after all.

Dumbledore’s face went rather serious then, and you swallowed thickly with trepidation. “I’m certain I don’t need to swear you to secrecy on this matter, Miss Goode. But keep in mind that the only ones who know of Remus Lupin’s affliction are myself, the House Heads, and a scant handful of other professors.” You frowned slightly, but nodded. You had no intention of revealing anyone’s secrets. Especially not one so dire. Dumbledore continued. “No student is to know. And given that parents are already extremely on edge about the recent breakout of Sirius Black, I don’t wish to give them any more reason to panic.” His face fell in to weariness then, and he lifted a hand to squeeze your shoulder, giving his words emphasis. “Even with your brilliant potion rendering him harmless, I’d rather not risk the exposure, you understand?”

You nodded again. “Of course, sir,” you assured him. You’d been working with werewolves long enough. You knew they kept their affliction close to the chest if they could help it. The stigma was suffocating, and none of them deserved it. You quietly promised yourself you would do everything in your power to help this Remus Lupin, if only to soothe your own heart. You had to keep helping them any way you could.

Dumbledore’s smile returned, but it looked tired and a little worn. Still, he squeezed your shoulder once more. “Do you have any more questions for me?” he asked patiently, but you immediately shook your head. You didn’t wish to hold him up any longer.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied, and he slowly slid his hand from your shoulder, patting your arm instead. You laughed, for no other reason than your brain couldn’t tell if it wanted to laugh or cry. Laughter always seemed to be the default. “I… Well!” you huffed, rubbing your tired face. “I guess I’ll see you on the 17th then.” You smiled awkwardly. “Or thereabouts.”

But Dumbledore didn’t seem to mind your odd outbursts. He simply smiled placidly, before taking up your hand again, shaking it cordially. “It’s an honor to have you on my staff, Professor Goode,” he assured you, and you laughed again at the change in title. Professor Goode! Had a nice ring to it. You would start reading those lesson plans immediately, you decided. You already felt a weight lift from your back, now that you actually had something to do. Maybe your future wasn’t completely in the mud after all.

You squeezed the man’s hand in return, this time taking his hand in both of yours. “Thank you very much, Headmaster,” you intoned, hoping he could feel the gratitude behind your words. He was giving you a second chance to prove yourself in this miserable wizarding world. You didn’t want to disappoint him. And you didn’t think you would be disappointed working under him, either.

Patting your hands genially, Dumbledore finally released his grip on yours, taking a step back from you and clasping his hands behind his back. “Please, call me Albus. We’re colleagues, now, after all.”

You smiled delightedly at that. Belby had insisted upon calling him Professor. Sometimes even Master. Albus Dumbledore was already a far cry from that bastard, and for the first time in months, you were actually looking forward to something. “Albus, then.”

He gave you one last twinkling smile, before sweeping one last wistful glance over your mushroom paintings. “Well now, I’ll be off. Enjoy the rest of your summer, my dear,” he suggested merrily. Stepping towards the beaded curtain, he called softly into the kitchen, “Thank you for your hospitality, Vivian.” And you had to stifle a giggle as you heard another guilty squeak, before your mother appeared in the door way, just in time to watch Dumbledore reach the front door.

“Any time!” she called back with a wave, and just like that, your apartment was quiet again, but for Vivaldi shifting gently from Summer to Autumn. You stood, staring at the front door with your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach, trying to keep yourself from just completely rattling apart. Your mirth had suddenly dissolved away, and all that was left was an odd sort of coldness. You were getting a fresh start, and you were ecstatic. But it was also terrifying. Starting again was terrifying because you were afraid of getting hurt again.

There was a shift beside you, and suddenly your mother’s arms were around you too. You buried your face in her shoulder, and let your warring emotions spill onto her imitation silk dressing gown. She shushed you soothingly, petting her hand over your thick waves as she cooed, “You did so good, ‘Lyn. So good. He’s right, this is going to be good for you.” She gently pushed on your shoulders, and you looked up at her, tears streaming down your freckled cheeks. She smiled apologetically as she wiped them away with the sleeve of her robe, before grasping your cheeks and smooshing them slightly, making them puff out and forcing you to smile against your will. “And you get to go back, baby! Back into the magic world. And back to Hogwarts!” She leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead as she released her hold on your face. “You were always so happy when you were there.”

And though your tears did not abet, you were still smiling through them. Because she was right. You always were most happy while you were at school. For years you had spent the semesters pining to come back home, to this little apartment with your mother, but the truth was that over time, Hogwarts had started feeling like home too. Because in both places, there was an incredible sense of safety, security, and love.

So, you were going home.

Home, to Hogwarts.

Home, to him.

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Next Scene ==>

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#Severus Snape #Pro Snape #Snapedom #Snape Community #Severus Snape x Reader #Severus Snape x OC #Snape x Reader #Snape x OC #Dream Sequence

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enigmaticxbee · 3 years

Text

S7 Rewatch - Misc Observations

Apartments: We see Mulder’s apartment quite a bit this season, in 7 episodes. Scully’s at his apartment with him in all but one of those episodes and they’re all such wonderful, memorable scenes - exchanging vows in 7x02 The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati; Scully comforting Mulder (and staying all night) after his mother’s death in 7x10 Sein und Zeit; angsty avoidance after Scully’s escapade in 7x15 En Ami; late night discussions and revelations (ATTHS) in 7x17 All Things; more late night discussions in 7x19 Hollywood AD; and movie night on Mulder’s couch (ATTHS) in 7x21 Je Souhaite. We see Scully’s apartment in 5 episodes but Mulder is only there with her in one, 7x07 Orison. No matter how many times it gets violated Scully’s apartment is her space, and I think Mulder respects that and understands she needs that. It’s hard to see it get torn apart as she fights so hard to survive Pfaster’s attack.

Nudity: We see Mulder’s bare legs in his hospital gown and in just a strategically draped cloth during his operation in the two-part opener. And uh, his bare arms in whatever he was wearing in 7x13 First Person Shooter. And his bare legs and chest - naked! he was totally naked!! - in his bed in All Things! And Scully pulling her green SweatEr of seX back on in Mulder’s bathroom in All Things!! And both of them in their bubble baths in 7x19 Hollywood AD (separately sadly, but that was - I think - 18 months earlier). (And Scully’s bra that she’s hiding a wire in in En Ami, see that episode post for my thoughts on WBD sexualizing his costar that way 😑)

Crying: Mulder cries during his dream sequence in Amor Fati, over his mother in Sein und Zeit, and when saying goodbye to ghost Samantha in 7x11 Closure. Scully cries over Mulder in the two-part opener, she probably cries when comforting Mulder in Sein und Zeit (in some of the outtakes it’s clear that she’s crying but of course it’s too dark to see), when talking to Daniel about her life in All Things, and in Requiem when talking to Skinner about Mulder’s disappearance. GA is such a good crier - in that scene in Requiem it’s not big, forced ugly crying, just the kind of tears that slip out and roll down your face so that you taste them running into your mouth. Devastating 😭😭😭

Inappropriate Touching: I mean, SOSS, what more do I need to say? But of course in Amor Fati there’s Mulder with both hands on Scully’s face and Scully making out with his forehead and then running her thumbs across his lips as all platonic partners do as they exchange beautiful my constant, my touchstone vows. And their lovely first kiss in Millennium!! And in Requiem when he spoons her in his motel bed and kisses her cheek and and and 🥰😢😭

#xf rewatch #msr #txf #season 7 #misc observations #touching #crying #all the good stuff

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derireo · 4 years

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feeling restless / all troupes

Request: Heya!! Can I have some headcanons of all of the Mankai Troupes having a movie night?

Heya!! Yes you can! Also, I'm really bad at focusing on characterisation/character studies so I'm actually really sorry if these headcanons aren't really accurate with a character's personality or smth;; these are just things I think would happen hkhhh. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

「 Not posting this on AO3 」「 2.3k words 」

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡　　( ´ ∀ ` ) 　ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

"I'm bored already." Itaru whispered into your ear as everyone in the Spring Troupe gathered in the living room. The movie that the younger members chose was something that Itaru had either already watched or wasn't interested in watching, so he was seated beside you on the sofa with his phone in hand, the screen glaring at him as he opened up a game. You shrugged your shoulders, saying that you couldn't do much else for him other than offer the snacks that were on the table or a soda from the fridge. The office worker shook his head with a tired sigh, and instead leaned into your side with his head resting on your shoulder, a pillow resting between you to cushion the the position.

Masumi was sleeping on the other side of you, not exactly interested as well. He didn't really care which movie the others wanted to watch so he decided not to give an input and instead stole the empty spot by your side by Citron could. His arms cradled one of yours to his chest as he slept peacefully, his cheek pressed into your shoulder as he dozed off dreaming about something happy. He would murmur every once in a while during the movie, but everyone would just ignore it. Both Itaru and Masumi take up most of your attention during the movie, and you're stuck on the sofa until it ends because they wouldn't let you go to get more snacks or refreshments.

Sakuya and Citron would be the most responsive to the movie playing on the TV in the living room, their voices booming whenever they shouted in surprise or happiness. Citron would occasionally recite a few lines during the movie, but he would end up saying the wrong words every time. He thought the lines sounded cool, but his execution was a little weak, but Sakuya wouldn't mind because the foreign member would be acting so cool anyways. This pair would also be the two eating the most snacks, with Citron sometimes feeding Itaru something if he asked. They're the most hype out of the members to watch the movie, but they're also the ones who find themselves passed out after their high.

Tsuzuru watches the movie for reference. As always. He focuses on the movie so much that Sakuya and Citron actually go ignored. He writes in a notepad or sometimes types on his laptop, really depends. His eyes are squinting so hard at two screens and he squints even harder at the notebook in his lap because it's so dark in the living room. He barely even eats because this is just like when he's writing an actual play. His inspiration and motivation is just flowing whenever they play a movie for the troupes, and he wants to grab those ideas for their new play so that they can give off something new. Sakuya reminds him to drink water or to eat a little snack so that he doesn't tire when taking notes of the movie.

"Why are we watching this again?" Tenma cried out as splattered blood ran across the screen. Everyone, for some reason, decided to watch a horror movie much to Tenma's dismay. The thing is, Yuki goaded him into also choosing the horror movie, and that's why the high schooler was now curled up against your side in absolute fear. He hid his face into your shoulder whenever something scary popped up on the screen, and you winced whenever he let out a squeal of terror because he'd be shouting it right into your ear. He'd be so scared that he'd forget that there was anyone else around you two, and he'd only focus on hiding behind your frame. He acted brave at first, no lie, as the intro was quite normal, but when he heard that eerie groan in the next minute, there were chills running down his spine.

Yuki is somewhat enjoying it. He doesn't mind horror things, and likes the thrill. Sure, he jumps here and there and avoids the more scary and unnerving parts by focusing on eating the snacks on the table. He's quiet for most of the movie unless Tenma is being loud for no reason, and probably throws in a jab of his elbow into his knee here and there just to get him to shut up. He munches on buttery popcorn most of the time and lets Muku have the sweet snacks. He checks on you every now and then to see if you're faring alright yourself since both Tenma and Muku are plastered to you like a bandaid on a really annoying wound. Overall, Yuki wouldn't mind having another movie night with the troupe, just as long as Tenma is less aggravating next time.

Muku is also terrified and acts just like Tenma, but more mild and quiet. His flinching is very violent though, and he jostles you around quite a bit whenever something he doesn't like pops up on the screen. He'll hide behind your shoulder during scenes that unnerve him, but always peeks because he's so curious. There are times where his shouts are on the same level as Tenma, but it's... cuter. Tenma's shrieks are sometimes unbearable?? Muku makes you want to hide him from whatever is making him scream. He eats the candies to distract himself, and feeds you as well if you ask nicely. He grips onto your arm very tightly throughout the whole movie and he starts to sweat a lot, so you tell him to drink water. And at the worst time possible, when he's re-hydrating, a jump scare pops up and all of a sudden there's water all over everybody on the couch.

Kazunari is having the time of his life with Misumi, because as much as the movie is terrifying, they can't help but scream out of joy because the movie is just so fun! Misumi, being very flexible with his voice, actually mimics some of the scary sounds and voices that make an appearance throughout the movie. The only thing that makes it less scary is that he only says triangle and nothing else, but perfectly mimics the voice/sound. Kazunari teases Tenma a little from the floor, but gets bored of it when Tenma is too busy hiding behind your shoulder to even care. Both Kazunari and Misumi laugh with each other about the silly moments in the movie, but even Kazunari gets flustered by a few of the loud audio cues!

"Shit. That is totally dope." Banri is actually on the edge of his seat on the sofa when the movie is playing. Everyone decided to watch an action movie since that's what most of their plays revolved around, and it was probably the best option anyways. No one really wanted to watch a romcom or a comedy itself at this time of night. Out of the whole Autumn Troupe, he was probably one of the most restless besides Taichi. The action sequences were just so exciting and exhilarating that it made him want to jump up and throw a few punches in the air (or at Juza. whichever one he reached first). He'd whistle under his breath or hold a fist up to his mouth in shock at all of the cool stunts; especially the awesome choreography with the guns. Despite all of that though, he'd probably be the one destroying that bowl of popcorn.

Although Sakyo was really against watching a movie so late at night, his frosty glare melted when you pouted and gently asked him a third time if you all could watch just one film and then go to bed. He was sitting on the sofa with you alongside Omi and Banri, but kept to himself for most of the movie because he was a little busy worrying about the electricity bill. He also tried his best not to sit too close to you otherwise his would be even more preoccupied with unnecessary stuff, and he really just wished you all would go to bed. He hisses at the others when they get too rowdy during the film, and gets up from the sofa every now and then to drink a glass of water or to take a break from staring at the movie screen for so long. The only reason he doesn't leave until the end is to ensure that everyone makes it to bed in the end; especially you.

Juza's the most quiet one! The thing is, he goes through all of the sweet snacks not even a quarter way through the movie, and has made Omi go back into the kitchen multiple times just because his stomach still hasn't gotten its fill. He is totally enraptured by the film though, seeing how movies work their magic on fight scenes has always been a wonder to him, and they're much more cleaner on the fights than real ones are. Real fights are much more messy and uncoordinated, more rugged and fierce, and while movies can get the fierce part, they make it seem like it's way too easy to just up and roundhouse kick someone in the temple. He doesn't interact with anyone else during the movie other than the occasional lean back against your legs because he was slouching for too long, but he also offers you and Taichi some candies when he remembers to share.

Taichi is just as energetic as Banri during the movie and tries to re-enact some of the gnarly moves in the movie. He actually has the courage to start play fighting with Banri who actually tries to throw him across the room, only to be stopped by a gently chiding Omi who is smiling in amusement. Taichi shouts here and there and kicks the air a few times when his energy gets the best of him, and Omi's just there to make sure he doesn't break anything or hit Juza in the head. Omi's sitting on the other side of you on the couch, but is usually getting up to refill the snacks because the high school students are like vacuums. He dotes on you every now and then as well just to check if you're getting tired or hungry, and also helps Sakyo out in ushering the kids back into their rooms.

"Mm.. I'm tired." Hisoka murmurs and rests his head in your lap. He takes up most of the space on the sofa which actually forces Tasuku, Tsumugi, and Homare to sit on the floor while Azuma is on your other side. The Winter Troupe decided to have a movie night because Tsumugi had actually recommended a new film that none of the members or you have watched before. Hisoka wasn't particularly excited about joining everyone in watching, but decided to tag along when you offered your lap and told him that he just needed to join to make it feel like a true Winter Troupe bonding. He fell asleep right as the movie started, his legs dangling over the arm over the sofa while his head was cushioned by your thighs. The thing is, out of habit, Homare would feed him marshmallows every now and then so Hisoka would jolt a few times to catch the fluffy snack; effectively distracting you from a few movie scenes.

Tasuku was probably the most keen on watching a drama. It didn't matter whether it was in a fantasy world or a historic one, as long as there was drama. He was probably the one who chose the film too since he does his research on movie casts and follows the reviews as well. He wouldn't admit it either, but he's also the one who is the most excited to take part in movie night since you all agreed to the film he suggested and promised everyone that it wouldn't disappoint. His eyes would be intense as the scenes rolled, and he wouldn't talk much other than the occasional whisper to you or Tsumugi. He'd probably drink tons of water too because a lot of the more dramatic and heart racing scenes leave his mouth dry. He takes note of the actors and how they deliver their lines; watches how the most minuscule of changes in expression can either immerse the viewer or make them lose interest with the wrong move.

Tsumugi and Homare might be the most talkative of the group during this time. They pass each other comments about the film as time goes on, whispering to each other their thoughts while Tasuku butted in every now and then to give his own opinion. Homare would find it easy to gain inspiration from the dramatic scenes and would write down whatever words came to him into his small notebook to make sure he wouldn't forget the next day. Tsumugi would ask a lot of questions during the film, just wondering about what was going on or why this person was doing this and that etc. Homare would probably be quite the critique as well if he didn't like how a character was portrayed or didn't like how a scene was done, much to Tasuku's annoyance. Otherwise, Tsumugi and Homare would murmur between themselves in amusement.

I don't know if Azuma would be paying attention to the film, but he was didn't turn down the offer to join the rest of the troupe. One late night wouldn't hurt him, would it? He would just have to apply a bit more cream and serums before going to bed. He would also be drinking quite a lot during the film just to pass the time since he didn't seem too particularly interested in watching. Even better, he would even pour you a cup which is something that doesn't happen often. You two would share the same cup actually, since Azuma would be too lazy to get up and get another one, so you two would go back and forth. He'd give you the occasional whisper, asking if you're getting tired or would like to stop drinking with him. He is probably the one who manages to usher everyone back to their respective rooms at the end of the night, but offers you to come into his room to apply some beauty products before going to bed.

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agentnico · 4 years

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Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade (2010′s)

Now that we have entered the 2020s, it’s time to look back on a decade of movie magic. To emphasise the importance of each year, I’ll balance things out by including two films from each year for my Top 20 list. I’ve tried to pick films that both defined this decade as well as appealed to me personally, so my list will of course, as always, be different from yours, but hopefully, I won’t totally irritate you with my humble choice, which I deem worthy to post online for the public eye to witness.

2010:

INCEPTION - “You’re waiting for a train...” Christopher Nolan unarguably is the most exciting and original directors working today. Each time he releases a movie, its an event. A literal must-see at the cinema. Which is why this isn’t the only film of his you will find on this list. With Inception, Nolan gives us a movie that is both enjoyable and imaginative, rewarding the audience for the attention that it demands. Filled with so much detail that if you miss certain shots, you will completely get lost in confusion of the narrative (as confusing as it already is). It’s intense and complex, with great performances from the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy, this movie will leave you lingering for more even after that mysterious ending.

SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD - “You cocky cock! You'll pay for your crimes against humanity!” Once again, another exciting director on this list (oh there are so so many!). Ever since Edgar Wright emerged from the British isles, he’s given us some of the funniest films of the past decade and onwards. His Cornetto Trilogy is a blast, Baby Driver is a blast, Ant-Man was going to be even more of a blast if Marvel allowed Wright to do his magical shenanigans his way, and the upcoming Last Night in Soho will surely be a blast also. With Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Wright creates a meta-clever universe taking inspiration from comic books and video games and filled to the brink with wink-wink-nudge-nudge humour, this is an exciting and very sarcastic over the top endeavor. Also, Brie Larson in this movie.....phew!! And unsurprisingly, its all a blast!

2011:

DRIVE - “I just wanted you to know, just getting to be around you, that was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Drive is more of an elegant exercise in style, and its emotions may be hidden but they run deep. A shamelessly disreputable, stylish, stoic, ultra-violent thriller with amazing stunt work, one of the best opening sequences of any movie this decade and a neon-pumped soundtrack that’s a must-own for all vinyl users, if you still haven’t seen Drive, there’s only one thing you can do. Clue: it’s to go watch Drive.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE - GHOST PROTOCOL - “Your mission, should you choose to accept it...” Tom Cruise’s deal with the devil allows him to do some literally impossible stuff, and though I don’t condone his Scientology ways, the man’s stunt work and efforts in his area of expertise are worth all the praise and respect. To be honest, I’m commemorating all three of the Mission Impossible flicks that graced our screen this year (Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation and Fallout). This franchise is like a game of dodgeball, except that Tom Cruise is the dodgeBALL, being thrown and thrust left and right like nobody cares. Also, with me being Russian, the fact that a movie manages to destroy the Kremlin and then have me not hate the film in the aftermath shows that this film is way too fun to hate.

2012:

DJANGO UNCHAINED - “Gentlemen, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.” Quentin Tarantino is one of my favourite directors working today. And Django Unchained happens to be my favourite film of his. The writing for this film is orgasmic (I went there!). The way the actors deliver the lines and the lines of dialogue themselves sound almost poetic to my ears. I can quote so many lines from this darn thing. The cinematography is immaculate. The soundtrack choice is great. The performances, my goodness, the PERFORMANCES!! Jamie Foxx does arguably his career-best work here, but also we have Christoph Waltz and Leonardo DiCaprio both chewing up the scenery, and I’m sure everyone has heard the story involving DiCaprio and the broken glass. Django Unchained is an easy choice on this list for me, and possibly in my Top 10 of all time.

LES MISERABLES - “Do you hear the people sing?” The film that is based on a musical that is based on a book that is based on certain true events. Tom Hooper did an interesting choice of having actors sing live in front of the camera during filming rather than pre-record their voices, and it works to grand effect, though Russell Crowe should have probably been given more singing lessons. The movie is one hell of a way to adapt such a popular stage musical. With an opening shot that emphasises the scale of this picture with a zoom-in towards this big ship during a storm being pulled by these poor prisoners, we are plunged into the despair and conflicts of various characters with adroit narrative thrust so that not a moment feels wasted or redundant. You’d think that a film with hardly any dialogue and an overall reliance on singing wouldn’t be so emotional. Yet, somehow, it works. Also props to Anne Hathaway for winning an Academy Award for being in a film for only 5 MINUTES!!

2013:

THE WOLF OF WALL STREET - “Sell me this pen.” Martin Scorsese’s mad look into Wall Street life is a bombastic caper and running at nearly 3 hours, Scorsese and his editing team manage to keep an astoundingly intoxicating pace that keeps you enthralled and engaged throughout. This one is definitely not for the families, as this R-rated fest is filled with drugs, money, sex and everything you can possibly imagine and paints quite the picture of the rich folks of Wall Street. And the middle of it all a bravura performance from Leonardo DiCaprio. Someone needs to give DiCaprio’s agent a raise, this is Leo’s third appearance on this list and we’re only in 2013!

THE WAY WAY BACK - “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're having way too much fun, it's making everyone uncomfortable.” Sometimes a little indie flick is enough to lift a human spirit. Real, fun, uplifting and innocent, The Way Way Back dedicated to anyone who felt awkward or out of place at some point in their life, which, let’s be honest, counts all of us. I’m not afraid to admit that. So stop being a b*** and reveal your sensitive side too! Yes, you, the person reading this. Who else could I possibly be talking to? Myself? Maybe. The Way Way Back though is one of the best feel-good indie films of this decade, with the loveable Steve Carell acting very unloveable and Sam Rockwell Rockwelling himself to charm city! If you’ve missed this one, treat yo’self and check it out.

2014:

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL - “And?? Where is it? What's it all about dammit don't keep us in suspense this has been a complete f***ing nightmare! Just tell us what the f*** is going on!!!” Easily Wes Anderson’s best in my opinion (I have a friend who would argue Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums has the better hand but I think my opinion is more valid because it's me), this movie is a glossy, colorful, whimsical deadpan affair with an energetic turn from Ralph Fiennes as the hotel concierge M. Gustave H. as he and his lobby boy run into various Wes Anderson regulars and deal with murderers, stolen paintings, love affairs, prison breaks, and all kinds of crazy shindigs, but all shown in such a casual Wes Anderson way. This movie is like a slice of cherry pie - damn fine!

INTERSTELLAR - “Murphy’s Law doesn’t mean that something bad will happen. It means that whatever can happen, will happen.” As promised, Christopher Nolan makes another appearance on this list, now with his space time-traveling epic Interstellar, where he takes inspiration from the likes of Kubrick and Tarkovsky to give us, as always, a tad bit confusing adventure with great visuals and an interesting narrative (though it does sometimes get lost in its own way), however, the key thing holding this piece together is the father-daughter relationship with Matthew McConaughey and Mackenzie Foy (and Jessica Chastain) managing to bring so much raw emotion to their respective roles that you can’t help but want to shed a tear. I mean, I haven’t cried for over 14 years, but I remember when I first watched this film, the audience around me was sobbing quite a few times during the duration of this movie. Give it to Nolan to give us the emotional moments!

2015:

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD - “Oh what a day! What a lovely day!!” Easily the best action movie of this decade. Sorry John Wick, neither you or Tom Cruise could defeat this beast. The sheer, limitless invention behind this movie's exhilarating, preposterous chase scenes highlights action filmmaking at its finest. With big monster trucks and a random guitarist rocking-it in the middle of all the action, it’s like a nihilistic version of a Cirque du Soleil show! And it makes Tom Hardy the calmest person on-screen; no idea how it managed that.

STEVE JOBS - “I sat in a garage and invented the future because artists lead and hacks ask for show of hands.” If there is anyone who can make formulaic, mathematical or technological sound fun and exciting, its Aaron Sorkin. The man has a talent for writing screenplays about difficult and complicated topics yet turning them approachable for the casual moviegoer. Pair him with director Danny Boyle, and the result is Steve Jobs, a look at the man behind the phone. Narratively set during three important product launches of Jobs’, we get to see the behind-the-scenes of his relationships with his colleagues and family members, and this character study is one that could have easily fallen into generic biopic tropes, but it holds it’s own right till the credits roll. Also props for showing that Seth Rogen can actually do a serious role. Who would’ve thought that pot-smoking fella had dramatic chops in him?

2016:

NOCTURNAL ANIMALS - “Susan, enjoy the absurdity of our world. It’s a lot less painful. Believe me, our world is a lot less painful than the real world.” Fashion designer Tom Ford does sew his suits well. Apparently, he can also make great films too, with 2009′s A Single Man and with said Nocturnal Animals. This movie is truly incredible and I remember it taking me and my friend by surprise when we first watched it at the cinema. It’s shocking. Horrifying. Depressing. Upsetting. Altogether exhilarating. Being of a fashion background, Tom Ford directs the hell out of this movie, with gorgeous shots and great use of colour as well as managing to masterfully create tension and suspense when necessary. Honestly, I know Tom Ford is probably busy at a department store somewhere, but the guy needs to make another movie. The man has a talent.

LA LA LAND - “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem. Here’s to the hearts that ache; here’s to the mess we make.” Oh, La La Land. Damien Chazelle’s follow-up to the also excellent Whiplash. People who know me well know how much I love this movie. An old-school tour-de-force musical that’s a love letter to jazz and the golden age of Hollywood. The city of stars never looked so good. Featuring catchy original songs, excellent dance choreography (the sequence to the song “Lovely Night” is especially memorable) and a romance tale ten times better than the forsaken The Notebook, La La Land is one special movie. I know many are put off by the film’s not so happy ending, however for me it was the only way this narrative could have ended.

2017:

BLADE RUNNER 2049 - “We’re all just looking out for something real.” Similarly to Nolan, Denis Villeneuve is proving to be one of the most exciting directors working today. He’s the man behind such films as *deep breath* Prisoners, Enemy, Sicario, Arrival and Blade Runner 2049. And those have all been done within the last decade. The man constantly makes quality movies of various genres, though lately, he has been leaning more towards science fiction, which is a-okay in my books, since as Blade Runner 2049 proves, he can turn science into fiction like butter on bread. A sequel made 30 years after Ridley Scott’s classic, this visually breathtaking piece is arguably even better than its predecessor with many moments giving you the “wow wow wow wow wow WOW!” factor, and when Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford are both on-screen they are dynamite. Forget the new Star Wars film (that’s right, I'm throwing shade there), Blade Runner is where it’s at!

PHANTOM THREAD - “The tea is going out. The interruption is staying right here with me.” The supposed last Daniel Day-Lewis film, as he has now apparently retired from acting, but let’s be honest, nothing stops him from simply unretiring at any point. Exhibit A - Joe Pesci. However, like Pesci, if he comes back I’ll only be happy. He’s one of acting greats of our time, and his collaborations will director Paul Thomas Anderson bring out some of his best roles. Phantom Thread is a marvel of a movie. No, I don’t mean that’s its part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I mean as in it can fill one with wonder and astonishment. Phantom Thread is PTA’s Gothic dark fairy-tale romance film, which expertly planned shots and scenes where every word of the dialogue counts. There is no wasted moment. And as the film transpires to its dark and unsettling climax, one begins to realize that this, THIS, is what filmmaking is about. Telling an engrossing story in an interesting way with crisp-clear shots and off-the-chart acting at play, with great costume design on display, although the latter is unsurprising due to a major aspect of the movie revolving around fashion.

2018:

MANDY - “You ripped ma shirt!! You ripped maaa shiirrt!!” An acquired taste for sure, however, Mandy is indeed something truly special. From first glance, this film might seem like nothing out of the ordinary, especially from the point of view of the plot. Its the usual revenge flick. However director Panos Cosmatos’ vision and how he presents it is so much more unique. And what’s not love in this film? There’s something for everyone! It’s artsy and slow enough for the critics, hip and metal for the nonchalant, gory and violent for the hardcore genre fanatics and of course the Nic-Cage-rage factor is present for the fans of the actor. Alright, it may not be a family film, but this one is worth a watch. The whole thing is bound together by this psychedelic otherworldly environment, with the whole movie conceived in this dark, unsettlingly beautiful yet horror-filled aura that might stray people away, as it might be just too different for them, however, if you are looking for something different to watch, take mandy. I mean, watch Mandy!

A STAR IS BORN - “Music is essentially 12 notes between any octave. Twelve notes and the octave repeats. It’s the same story told over and over. All the artist can offer the world is how they see those 12 notes.” The film that began all the rumours surrounding Bradley Cooper’s and Lady Gaga’s affair. People, heads up, they are actors! They were putting on a performance! Jeez. That being said, I totally ship them. Nuff’ said. The film though? Yes, it’s good. Some country-style music, romance blooming, Gaga can apparently act, people sing about shallows for some reason...all together works for a pretty decent motion picture. Also, the fact that Bradley Cooper wrote, directed, produced and starred in this gives me so much respect for the guy. He poured his heart and soul into this. And Lady Gaga absolutely shines!

2019:

PAIN & GLORY - “Writing is like drawing but with letters.” Director Pedro Almodovar semi-autobiographical film takes a close look at how one deals with acceptance, being forgotten, symptoms of depression and generally all fairly negative attributes, but delivered in such an honest and profound way that there is a strange lightness that emerges from it all. Antonio Banderas is uncannily vulnerable in the lead role, delivering such an earnest performance that shows a man that is filled with melancholic regret who seeks his own form of redemption. This movie is a thing of beauty.

PARASITE - “You know what kind of plan never fails? No plan at all. If you make a plan, life never works out that way.” Parasite is easily the most original and surprising films of 2019, and possibly the decade, managing to subvert expectations and blend together so many different genres so naturally. To spoil any narrative element of this movie would be a sin, like this one in particular works best when not knowing anything about it. This movie comes to us from Bong Joon-Ho, a South Korean director behind such films as The Host, Memories of Murder, Okja, and Snowpiercer. It’s nice to see the awards ceremonies giving him the proper recognition finally. He deserves it.

That sums up my Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade list. Of course, there are so many other great films that came out in these 10 years, such as Whiplash, When Marnie Was There, Paterson, Silence, Kubo and the Two Strings, The Nice Guys...I can go on forever. Cinema is a constant ever-growing medium, and it is fascinating to see how it changes through the years, in some ways improving and in some parts not so much. In any case, I look forward towards a new decade of, hopefully, great movies, however, let’s be honest, for all these great films there’s always a Norm of the North, a Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse or frickin’ Cats. But let’s hope those will be kept to a minimum. In any case, bring on the 2020s!

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wigwurq · 4 years

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WIG REVIEW: THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT

Yes it’s true - the only things I’ve been watching lately are prestige TV shows starring women with bad red wigs. I’ll get back to movies someday!! In the meantime, I finally watched all of this miniseries that has Netflix and the world aflame with love - and I am aflame too....WITH HATRED OF ALL OF THESE WIGS!!! I have so much to discuss with this show, y’all. A friend of mine (who hasn’t watched this show yet) probably said it best when he told me he thought the wigs in this show were supposed to be wigs WITHIN the narrative of the show (and therefore allowed to be bad): “wait I thought this was about a chess spy - that’s supposed to be her real hair? NO” INDEED!!! Let’s take it episode by episode (SPOILERS ABOUND) and DISCUSS.

Episode 1 - Openings

We begin in Paris, 1967. Beth Harmon, chess champion (?) awakens in a bath of ice (?) in the dark of her hotel room, clearly hung over or maybe still drunk. Her red ‘60s flip wig looks like HELL as does she, so...ok I guess this bad wig wurqs...for now. She sits herself down to play CHESS!! This whole show is about chess, obviously, and everyone is just mad about chess now! I am mad, too, because the show does not make chess seem interesting or sexy and I still hate it.

Anyway, we rewind about 10 (?) years to a young Beth Harmon, who is suddenly orphaned after her mom definitely commits suicide via car accident. Her mom has super short bangs and cries a lot. We see some even further flashbacks to an even younger Beth IN THE MOST OUTRAGEOUS BABY WIG (MORE ON THAT LATER). We learn that her mom is very unhinged, but also probably brilliant, as Beth herself will become later. LET’S HOPE SHE NEVER GETS HER DRIVER’S LICENCE (note: she never does?)

Apparently the mid to late ‘50s were all about very VERY short bangs, and on this non-wigged little girl I guess that is fine.

BUT THEN! She is brought to an orphanage where they burn her old clothes (YES REALLY!) and cut her hair into a bob (the kid’s actual hair so again - ok!) and also give her and all the other girls constant drugs! The 1950s were really wild, amiright? If I have learned anything from movies set at orphanages in the 50s, drug abuse was the main issue (the only movie I’m referring to is obviously The Cider House Rules and the only thing I remember about that movie is that Michael Caine had an ether addiction). Anyway, the sedative drugs make her immediately put her hand on a hot radiator (safety first, orphanage!)

She also makes friends with an older girl named Jolene (I LOVE THE NAME) who teachers her to save the sedative drugs for nighttime when they can help her sleep. Great advice, Jolene! Also: there is absolutely no way that African American Jolene would be in an integrated orphanage in mid-50s KENTUCKY but this is just the beginning of issues I have with this series......

Moving on! In avoiding the orphanage’s weird insistence on Jesusy choir practice, she discovers the basement realm of janitor Bill Camp, who never actually does any janitorial work (that I could see?) but definitely plays a lot of chess. And thus, her chess obsession begins! This is also helped by those sedatives she takes every night which give her really absurd chess hallucinations on the ceiling. This orphanage has it all!

Essentially, this miniseries is Valley of the Dolls if those characters got addicted to both pills and chess at the age of 9. Beth gets very VERY good at chess and some rando chess guy from the local high school comes and gives Beth a doll (BETH HATES THE DOLL BUT LOVES DOLLS DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE). And she goes to the high school and plays a bunch of terrible high school boys at chess simultaneously and beats them all. Also: the orphanage suddenly gets in trouble for giving sedatives to small children for years and Beth is PISSED. She goes through withdrawal and years for the big ol’ jar o’ pills!!!

AND THEN! During a kind of Jesusy film presentation, Beth sneaks away to the orphanage pharmacy and just goes hog wild on the pills! TRULY: Valley of the Dolls has nothing on this sequence.

Obviously, Beth is caught pill-handed and she also spills all the pills, breaks a giant glass jar, and then falls onto both of them. SHE IS 9. I THINK I LOVE THIS SHOW.

Episode 2: Exchanges

So after Beth’s completely insane pill odyssey, she is punished by being forbidden to play chess! Fast forward an indeterminate number of years, and we meet a slightly older Beth (now played by the bewigged Anya Taylor-Joy). AND THIS WIG, Y’ALL. WOOF. Completely dried out and bent, it really makes you appreciate the fact that they just cut the younger Beth’s hair. I realize that Anya is going to go through many 50s and 60s hairstyles to come but I really wish they had just done the same and used her real hair because we are about to take a bad wig odyssey that will last throughout this series. Also! I love that Jolene is played by the same actress! How old is too old to be in an orphanage?

Speaking of age! Beth is apparently now 15 but when a super weird couple expresses interest in adopting her, the orphanage director lady lies and says Beth is 13 and everyone just goes with it....FOR THE REST OF THE SERIES. Seriously, this age difference is never ever visited again or challenged. Beth is basically 15-17 for at least 5 years and no one gives a shit. OK? Anyway, Beth is adopted by Marielle friggin Heller (aka director of Can You Ever Forgive Me? and A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood) who has a very Mamie Eisenhower wig which is just fine compared to the bent and dry-ass mess on Anya’s head.

It is later revealed that Marielle adopted Beth because her husband is mainly away on business and she needs an older gal pal around to fetch her....sedatives from the magazine store! I wonder if Beth will totally get addicted to them again! I’m no chess player but you can absolutely predict plot devices in this series about two pawns away (is that a chess term? I still don’t know or care!)

So yes: as predicted Beth absolutely gets addicted to sedatives again (also the specific sedatives she gets addicted to are the exact same ones she was addicted to at the orphanage - WHAT A COINCIDENCE! - and also they are made up sedatives for the purposes of this show only in case we all want to get the same magical chess sedatives and see chess on the ceiling too). ALSO! Beth is still mainly addicted to chess despite the fact that she was permitted from playing it for the last 5-7 years (depending on what version of her age you’re going on?) but still is good at it? Most upsetting: she rips apart her lovely bed canopy in order to see her ceiling chess hallucinations! THE NERVE OF THIS KID!

Also nervy: bitch totally stole chess magazines from the pharmacy when she was also stealing sedatives from her adoptive mom! Kleptomania is Beth’s #3 addiction after chess and pills also comes into play when it is revealed that her new adoptive mom is kinda poor since her husband is away all the time and doesn’t give her enough money so Beth can’t enter those chess tournaments she read about in the magazines she stole. SO she writes to janitor Bill Camp and asks for $5 to enter the chess thing and if she wins she’ll send him $10. THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT PLOT POINT WHICH WILL COME INTO PLAY LATER. So Beth goes to the chess tournament where she meets some not handsome twin dudes and a very handsome other dude named Townes.

Basically all the chess dudes at this tourney suck in the same way? To be fair: if I saw Beth walking up in her ugly orphanage clothes and orphanage cut wig, I would think she sucked at chess too? Oh also - all the girls at her new high school also think her style sucks. I WONDER IF IN COMING EPISODES SHE WILL GAIN MORE STYLE AND CHESS FAME THAN ALL THESE GARBAGE PEOPLE. Spoiler: she does and also beats this dude named Harry and becomes the Kentucky chess champion. Also! Beth’s adoptive dad totally abandons her and Marielle Heller! I still hate chess but will continue to watch this show because of its haunting wigs and lowgrade feminist vibe.

Episode 3: Doubled Pawns

This episode begins with a flashback to Beth’s shitty birth mother and her shitty banged wig and remember that time I said I was going to talk about the wig on the littlest girl who plays her? WELL HERE WE ARE. Baby Beth has the absolute WORST WIG ON THIS SHOW and given how terrible all the wigs are, that is saying a lot. This wig looks like it was ripped off an American Girl doll which had been mistreated for years and thrown of a jungle gym or something. IT IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST (as is her mom, who makes this poor kid believe she had drowned!!!)

ANYWAY. We get a new wig in this episode!!! Beth manages to grow out her orphanage bangs and allow her hair to have a 50s wave bob. Do not be fooled by the higher quality of this cut, however - the quality of the WIG continues to very much suck! WHAT IS THIS HAIR PART! No hair underneath! And everything is still a dried out, bent mess! ALSO HER ROOTS ARE A NIGHTMARE. This is also the episode wherein Marielle Heller basically becomes Mama Rose to Beth and really gets into Beth supporting both of them via chess winnings and becomes her chess manager (ACTUAL JOB TITLE). Also Beth gets nicer clothing. Hilariously, Marielle tells Beth’s high school that Beth is just constantly sick so she can skip school to go to chess tournaments even though Beth is straight up on the cover of Life magazine?! I wonder if this will at all come to the attention of the high school - IT DOESN’T! PLOT HOLES BE DAMNED THIS SHOW IS ABOUT CHESS! She does go to high school long enough for the snobby girls who once made fun of her to invite her to the dumbest party ever where they just sit around and ask Beth dumb questions about Chess fame and then all have a sing-along to a song Beth doesn’t know because she has no idea what pop culture is: ONLY CHESS CULTURE. I watched this show with my mom and asked if ‘60s parties were like this and she laughed her head off and said NO. ALSO! Beth’s kleptomania comes into play at this party where she steals a bottle of gin and leaves without saying goodbye to anyone. WHAT A BITCH.

Speaking of bitches, Beth meets a new chess diva in the form of Love Actually’s resident child drum prodigy! He has a character name but whatever: Love Actually is his name and he has longish shaggy (non wigged) hair and dresses like Crocodile Dundee and is loved and feared in the chess community for being such a non-nerd (?) chess player. I asked my mom if anyone dressed like this in the ‘60s and she said “NO! But I guess I didn’t know everyone” WHICH IS A GREAT ANSWER BECAUSE MY MOM DIDN’T RUN IN WEIRD CHESS CIRCLES IN THE ‘60s. We are lead to believe the ‘60s chess community of weirdos consists of the same 5 rotating dudes who are all at the same chess tournaments always and also possible love interests for Beth and she’s better at chess than all of them.

The only weirdo chess dude that Beth cares about is Townes, who you may recall from the last episode in which he was the only attractive chess dude at that first chess tournament Beth went to with borrowed Bill Camp money. Anyway, she runs into him at some chess tournament (LIKE I REMEMBER WHICH ONE PLEASE) in Las Vegas where he is now a chess reporter (ACTUAL 1960s JOB, Y’ALL). He invites Beth back to his hotel boudoir where he takes some non-boudoir pictures of her playing chess and Beth is all aflutter with chess love but SUCK IT BETH, TOWNES IS GAY!!! I have to say that the only believable part of this show is that the only attractive chess dude would be homosexual. It still does not forgive any of the other plot nonsense.

SO! It’s still the big Vegas chess tournament which is super duper important-chess wise (though this show also makes it seem like every chess game IS THE MOST IMPORTANT so who is to say?) Anyway, Beth and her 50s wave wig (even though it is the 60s?) play Love Actually and....they both win? I didn’t know this was a chess pastability but ok? Beth is pissed that she didn’t beat Love Actually, I hope I never have to see him again (SPOILER HE’S IN MANY MORE EPISODES AND HAD I KNOWN THAT MAYBE I WOULD HAVE STOPPED WATCHING NOW BUT I DIDN’T!)

Episode 4: Middle Game

We are still stuck with this weird ‘50s bob in this episode. IT STILL LOOKS BAD. New developments are: Beth is taking night classes at the local college (even though she is technically still in high school?) in order to learn Russian to better understand people who are more obsessed with chess than she is: Russians. Anyway, he ends up going to the most wild and stereotypical hippie party with a college dude after class and yep - loses her virginity to him. Ok? At least it wasn’t to a chess weirdo? She also stays behind and parties and drinks alone in the hippie apartment because of all her substance addiction and kleptomania. Also! She graduates from high school despite being 2 years too old for high school (a plot point never explained) and missing all that high school for chess tourneys (another plot point never explained!) OH WELL: CHESS!

Beth and Marielle go to Mexico City for some chess tournament (AGAIN I COULDN’T TELL YOU WHICH ONE). Marielle is excited because she is pen pals (OMG THE 60s Y’ALL) with some Mexican weirdo who I definitely feared would steal all the chess winnings but then ultimately just sucks in the same way the adoptive dad did. Beth also runs into those chess twin weirdos because the chess community is comprised of only 5 dudes as I said. Their hair looks bad but not as bad as her wig.

Beth doesn’t see much of Mexico City - nor do we unless you count a truly outrageous sequence in which Beth and Marielle go out on their hotel balcony and look into a green screen rendering of Mexico City that would have felt at home in CGI ghostmare, Bohemian Rhapsody. Anyway, Beth and her olde timey 1950s wig which is spending way too much time in the 60s even though she’s supposed to be stylish now, take a lot of chess baths while Marielle drinks a lot because that Mexican pen pal/boyfriend sucks so bad.

So Beth wins enough chess to play Borgov, who we are led to believe is the Russian white whale/Bond villain of the chess community and LOSES! She is pretty pissed about it but not as pissed as...

....coming back to the hotel room to discover Marielle Heller and her luscious Mamie Eisenhower wig DEAD. TWICE AN ORPHAN, Y’ALL. Mexican coroners tell Beth that her mom died of hepatitis (!!!) and Beth somehow implicates low quality tequila in this hepatitis death. I LEGITIMATELY GOOGLED ‘DOES TEQUILA GIVE YOU HEPATITIS’ IMMEDIATELY. I DON’T THINK IT DOES?!?!?! THIS SHOW IS ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS AND YES I WILL CONTINUE WATCHING IT DESPITE THE TERRIBLE WIGS AND MY HATRED OF CHESS.

Episode 5: Fork

Beth returns to Kentucky IN THE RAIN BECAUSE TV AND MOVIE DEATHS ARE ALWAYS ACCOMPANIED BY RAIN. She is about to be super lonely in the house she know owns (according to a super sketchy international phone call with her adoptive father which will definitely not hold up in court) and then...she gets a call from Harry! WHO THE EFF IS HARRY! Again, luckily, there are only 5 chess guys who need to remember and he is one of them (he is the one she beat for the Kentucky chess whatever in episode 2). She invites him over because she’s lonely!

Harry is definitely the saddest of the weirdo chess dudes because apparently he’s been harboring a secret love of Beth (who at the time of their first meeting was like 13-15 depending on what timeline you’re going on and he was...20? OK GROSS BUT OK). BITCH EVEN GOT HIS WEIRD TEETH FIXED SO HE COULD BE LOVED BY BETH AND HER BENT ASS WIG AND SERIOUSLY NO THANK YOU HARRY. Regardless, Beth lets Harry have sex with her a few times and live rent-free in her house and ultimately Harry gets enough self confidence to leave this effed up living situation since he will never be one of Beth’s obsessions (which are still: chess, pills/alcohol, stealing shit).

So Beth goes to Ohio for some other chess tournament and reunites with UGH Love Actually. At this point in the show, Beth starts wearing long scarves as headbands and her wig has never looked better because most of it is covered by the scarf. THANK GOD. So Love Actually totally chess hustles Beth for a lot of coin playing speed chess (DEAR GOD WHY HAVE I BEEN FORCED TO LEARN WHAT SPEED CHESS IS) but in the end, she still beats him for the chess title. EFF YOU, Love Actually! May I never see you again! OH SHIT HE JUST INVITED HER TO NEW YORK TO TRAIN HER FOR THE PARIS CHESS THING DEAR GOD WHY IS THERE SO MUCH LOVE ACTUALLY IN THIS SHOW OK FINE I’LL STILL WATCH IT.

Episode 6 - Adjournment

Ok so Beth and her ok wig that is mainly covered by a scarf go to Love Actually’s apartment in NYC which IS AN UNDERGROUND BUNKER AND SHE HAS TO SLEEP ON A BLOW UP MATTRESS. Again and for the millionth time: Love Actually is the worst! Especially the worst because he introduces her to all these rando bohemians he knows, including some French bitch who will definitely eff everything up when Beth is already teetering on her pill/alcohol obsession and should probably not meet any other enablers. Somehow, he does get her to quit the pills/alcohol long enough to have sex with him (UGH).

And so we are in Paris, 1967. Where we started the show with Beth’s awful 60s flip! AND WE MEET ANOTHER PLOTHOLE. Only a week before this, Beth was in NYC with hair about 3″ shorter and still wearing scarves in her hair. WHAT IN THE VERY HELL, SHOW! I realize that this show has a very vague sense of time or how old Beth is or whatever but truly: NOPE.

Anyway, it’s the night before the big match against Borgov and Beth is on her very best behavior when who should ring her up but that French bitch Love Actually introduced her to! She is downstairs at the hotel bar and just come down and have one drink and don’t ruin your entire chess career, mmmkay? THIS ENABLING BITCH!!!! NEVER TRUST ANYONE WITH THIS CRYING GAME WIG UNLESS YOU WANT YOUR LIFE TO BE A CRYING GAME. Of course, Beth goes downstairs, drinks every drink in the bar, has sex with some rando French dude and...wakes up in the icebath we see at the beginning of the show and sweatily plays Borgov in her wig that has never looked frizzier, loses, and is shamed from the entire chess community. Also Love Actually wants Beth to come back to NYC but NO THANK YOU TO YOU AND YOUR BUNKER OF ENABLERS.

Back in Kentucky, Beth....is shown learning how to flip her hair. WAIT WHAT SHE ALREADY HAD A FLIP HAIRSTYLE THE ENTIRE TIME IN PARIS WHAT KIND OF WIG GASLIGHTING ARE YOU PLAYING, SHOW?!?!?!??!?!?!!

UGH anyway, with THE EXACT SAME FLIP WIG AS WE’VE SEEN HER IN, Beth tries to be a responsible young person of indeterminate age who owns a house in Kentucky and not drink or take pills or steal shit. EXCEPT remember that time her adoptive dad said she could just have the house if she paid the mortgage? WELL BITCH SHOWS UP AND J’ACCUSES HER OF STEALING THE HOUSE FROM HIM. Which is hilarious because of all the things she stolen in this show, the house wasn’t one of them. In any case, she buys the house! And takes herself out to dinner! And has a drink! AND UH OH.

At this point the show just goes completely off the rails in addictive nonsense. Beth just goes around the house in her terrible flip wig applying makeup and barfing in to chess trophies. It’s every stereotypical drug/alcohol scene from every biopic ever except this chick doesn’t really exist and this show is wearing on my nerves and Beth has to stop making so many terrible live decisions and this wig has BETTER GET BETTER.

And then magically - Jolene shows up in the most fabulous afro wig!! WHAT! OK I WILL WATCH THE BITTER CONCLUSION OF THIS SERIES BECAUSE I LOVE JOLENE.

Episode 7: End Game

Jolene...Jolene....Jolene. Jolene. I love Jolene. I don’t love that this show uses her by making her be the “magical negro” trope who helps Beth get her life back together. Predictable nonsense! So yes, Jolene looks around Beth’s ramshackle drug den and tells her to get her life back together. AND THEN BETH DOES. No AA or rehab required! WHAT! I really appreciate that Jolene also compares her to Susan Hayward (star of Valley of the Dolls!) which is the sick burn/comparison I needed.

The other reason Jolene showed up was to bring Beth to janitor Bill Camp’s funeral. At the funeral, which is very poorly attended, Beth reveals THAT SHE NEVER PAID BILL CAMP THAT $5 HE LENT HER (AND $10 SHE PROMISED HIM) AT THE BEGINNING OF HER CHESS CAREER. WHAT A PIECE OF SHIT. It is at this point that I fully decided that I wanted Beth to fail at everything because she is a garbage person who never gave propers to Bill Camp for changing her life for the better. THIS BITCH!! She even goes back to the orphanage where she discovers Bill Camp’s CHESS SHRINE DEVOTED TO HER! SHE FEELS LIKE SHIT AS WELL SHE SHOULD! I FULLY HATE HER!!!!

Jolene is much more forgiving of Beth than me and also introduces Beth to a new obsession: squash! Ok? It does allow Beth to wear a headband which is great wig-wise (in that it hides all the seamwork). Beth also turns down these Jesusy people who want to fund her chess trip to Russia and so Jolene GIVES HER $3,000 TO GO TO RUSSIA. IF THERE IS ANYTHING I’VE LEARNED IN THE LAST 5 MINUTES OF THIS SHOW IT IS THAT BETH WILL NOT PAY THAT MONEY BACK AND JOLENE PLEASE DO NOT!!!!

Jolene does. Beth goes to Russia which is straight out of every Bond movie and gets her shit together and wins a lot of damn chess.

Though her midweight coat game rivals that of Nicole Kidman in The Undoing, her wig game ALSO RIVALS THAT OF NICOLE KIDMAN IN THE UNDOING IN THAT IT IS ALSO A RED NIGHTMARE WIG. This show spent so much goddamned money on clothes, sets, and CGI greenscreens of Mexico City AND YET NO MONEY FOR WIGS. BOO.

I did enjoy this one chess opponent’s walrus hair but otherwise, Beth’s flip wig has absolutely overstayed its welcome and is a compete and utter bent nightmare. Also! Remember that one hot chess dude? He shows up and helps Beth with Chess!! HUH?

Also every single weirdo in the chess community somehow form a chess calming circle in Love Actually’s bunker apartment and call Beth internationally to help her win against Borgov at chess! WHAT IN THE DAMN HELL? It is sweet I guess, but also makes ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SENSE AS BETH WAS A TOTAL ASSHOLE TO ALL THESE PEOPLE AND DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE A PART OF THEIR WEIRD CHESS GANG.

Ultimately, Beth beats Borgov and wears THIS FUCKING HAT. I think we’re supposed to believe that she is now the white queen chess piece (I HATE THAT I NOW KNOW CHESS PIECES).

She is actually dressed in head to toe white and somehow convinces her American handler that she will just walk...to the airport? And despite being invited to the Johnson White House (girl go there!) would rather just wander the streets of Russia without any purse or luggage or way of getting home. THIS BITCH. She finds a new chess community of old men who play chess outside at folding tables and decides to join them WITHOUT GOING HOME TO PAY JOLENE ALL HER MONEY BACK WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY WHAT SHE SHOULD BE THINKING ABOUT AND ALSO MAYBE SETTING UP A BILL CAMP CHESS FOUNDATION BECAUSE YOU NEVER PAID HIM BACK YOU PIECE OF SHIT. No, she is no longer addicted to pills, alcohol, or stealing but is absolutely addicted to chess on a level that is probably lethal. I spent the last moments of the show demanding that the Russian chess hobos murder her and her immaculate white outfit because BETH IS A SELFISH ASSHOLE AND ALL HER WIGS ARE GARBAGE LIKE HER!!!!

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

#wigwurq #queensgambit #anyataylorjoy #garbagepeople #valleyofthedolls #babywigs #pillpoppinorphans #Istillhatechess #loveactually #marielleheller #wiggaslighting

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romewritingshop · 4 years

Text

A not so welcome interruption

Fandom: Choices, Perfect Match

Relationship: Detective Damien Nazario X Antihero F!MC (Name: Peach Park)

Warnings: Hella angst, death, blood, gore, slight brief smut, fight sequence, guns.

Word Count Total: 3006

A/N: So this is a sequel to A Welcome Interruption so feel free to read that first then this. This was painful to write. I was close to tears but it had to be written. Peach is a vigilante by the name of Eclipse. Sloane is a vigilante called Pixel and Hayden is Shockshot.

I was inspired by the prompt for the Monthly Challenge for August. This is for day 19 prompt: Courage.

Hopefully it fulfils the prompt and I’m sorry for what will occur. Thanks and I hope you enjoy.

A Welcome Interruption

CHOICES MASTERLIST

Tagged: @ravenpuff02 @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesmonthlychallenge

Bullets ring out in the air as Peach stared at her cousin, Nadia with disbelief. She slowly fell back onto the hard floor as blood began to pool near her shoulder. Her usual bright smile was replaced by a grim sunken look as Peach turned her eyes from Nadia to Cecile Contreras. It felt as if all the air in her lungs had left and replaced a heavy blackness of grief. It was all her fault, she shouldn’t have let Nadia get involved.

EROS had kidnapped Nadia in exchange for Eclipse, Shockshot and Pixel to come and surrender themselves along with their Paxton virus in a vial. Peach did just that because Nadia meant everything to her. However, EROS felt it risky to let Nadia go, so they shot her. Right in front of Eclipse as her friends, Sloane and Hayden roared in anger. They were distraught and hungry for vengeance as Hayden / Shockshot twirled two stun batons, from the holster at the back of his costume, around his fingers and went ahead to disarm the EROS guards.

Pixel kicked her legs out to let the skates under her shoes pop out and pulled a bloas from her utility belt. Skating towards the EROS guards and swinging her weapon by their feet. A renewed anger boiled in her heart as Eclipse turned to Cecile with icy fire, running at her, only for three guards to step in front, guns pointed. They began to shoot, with terrible aim since all their bullets hit her chestplate. Peach ignored all things and rammed into the guards, kicking one in the stomach and elbowing the other’s jaw.

Her eyes locked on to Cecile who picked up the vial and was making her way out of the warehouse. Immediately Peach clapped her hands which caused a powerful shockwave to spread, pushing the guards around her down. Sloane really did upgrade her suit as Peach took a step into Cecile’s direction. She felt a hand try to yank her back from the nape of the chestplate, not wanting to let Cecile get away, she unclipped her chestplate and broke out into a run.

Cecile saw this as an opportunity to get away as she pointed her gun towards Eclipse and took her shot, the bullet zipped through the air and pierced through her left shoulder, close to her heart as Peach was pushed back slightly from the impact of the bullet and Cecile fired another bullet which went lodged itself into her abdomen. The pain burned through her body as she staggered to her knees, vision blurring slightly.

Pixel and Shockshot dropped their attacks as their heads snapped to the direction of Peach, their hearts crushing at the sight of the bullets hitting their friend. The guards took this as an opportunity to seize Shockshot and Pixel, awaiting orders from Cecile who sauntered over and pulled Eclipse upright from her hair.

“I have to applaud you on your endurance and courage. Too bad, it couldn’t save your cousin. Watch as we unmask your friends and kill them right in front of you.”

“NO!”

Peach struggled helplessly and the blood poured out from her wounds, the burning pain growing even more. Hayden could see all hope was lost as he gave up struggling. Sloane, however, had a way to help Peach as he pushed harder and reached into her belt, pulling out a silver ball. She pressed a button and tossed it to the ground as a thick grey smoke expanded in the room, blinding everyone, except Hayden, Sloane and Peach. Peach felt the grip on her loosen, as she pushed Cecile away and pressed a hand to her earpiece.

“Sloane!”

“Peach, there’s no time. You have to go to Damien’s place.”

“But-”

“Peach! It’s the only way. Go now! We’ll be okay.”

~~~~~~

Damien downed his glass of Bacardi as he stared dumbly at the television screen. Papers regarding EROS were scattered around his coffee table, he pulled up his phone to see pictures of himself and Peach. Selfies of them hugging and kissing before Damien was reminded of what Peach had done. He tossed his phone to the left and sunk further into the sofa for another restless night. At least he thought it would be as he heard a knock on the fire escape window. He jumped up and recognised the familiar deep red wig and black eye mask with white plastic covering the eyes.

It was her as Damien stood with a renewed anger in his head, stomping to the door to push her away when he noticed the weary look of anguish on her face. He opened the window and lifted her in, feeling a hot sticky substance on the sides of her body. He lifted his hand to see red staining his hands and immediately Damien switched to Detective mode. Lifting her into his arms and carrying her to his bathroom and resting her into his tub.

He grabbed the first aid kit from under his sink shelf and set to work to clean Peach’s wounds. Having to cut through her shot and spotting the two bullet holes: one in her left shoulder, just close to her heart while in her right abdomen. The shoulder wound had an exit hole and Damien used a towel to wipe away the blood. He was used to this and was fortunate to have basic first aid training during his brief interpol training days.

Sewing needle and thread in his hands he was about to sew the wound when he noticed Peach’s silent anguished face. She had no idea what was going on and as much as she hurt him, he couldn’t bear to hurt her. He went to his bedroom and grabbed his belt, coming back and folding it before pressing it in between her teeth. Something to help offset the pain because he didn’t have any morphine, and Damien set to work.

Doing his best to block out the noises of her muffled cries, he sewed the exit wound and front wound shut, hoping it was enough before he could call his friend, Dr. Ethan Ramsey later. He could see her eyes fluttering as he hurried faster to fix the wound in her abdomen. That one had no exit wound, meaning the bullet was still inside her, an even worse injury as Damien realised he couldn’t leave the bullet inside her. Gathering the courage, he peeled off her eye mask and pushed away her fake wig to reveal his girl.

“This is going to hurt even more, Peach.”

At that moment, Damien slowly pushed his fingers into the hole. A loud scratchy scream erupted from Peach and a new force of energy took hold of her. Her hand coming up and digging deeply into Damien’s bare arm, he grunted at the sudden scrape against his skin. It was a terrible wrong idea as he pushed further and felt the smooth point of the bullet. Damien was an idiot but he was going to see this through to the end as his two fingers just grasped the bullet.

Immediately he yanked his hand out and a small splatter blood spurted out, Peach’s breath stuttered and Damien immediately sewed the wound together. Pressing the gauze and wrapping the bandage around her stomach. He glanced back at Peach and went to the living room to call his friend.

“Ethan, it’s Damien. I need you here now with your kit.”

~~~~~~

Her eyes fluttered before adjusting to the light in the room, catching sight of two men: one in a blue button up and the other in just grey tracksuit bottoms. She recognised the tan skin and tracksuits as Damien but not the man beside him as ‘button shirt’ shook Damien’s hand before casting a glance over to Peach. Damien sent a brisk nod to Ethan, who patted his shoulder before taking his leave.

Damien went towards Peach and helped her sit up, offering her a glass of water and tablets to help numb the pain, sitting opposite her. Ethan was severely disappointed with his first aid skills but he helped improve on the quick fix that Damien did. Peach gladly took the peace offering from Damien, pushing down the feelings of regret. An awkward silence settled between the two as Peach glanced down to notice, she wasn’t in her costume.

“Your clothes were ripped and … blood soaked so I had to change you and put my shirt on.”

“Thanks.”

Damien looked away from her and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. There was so much he wanted to ask and say but it was certainly not the right time. The tension in the air was palpable and as much as she wanted to apologise, now was not the right time. Sloane and Hayden needed to be rescued and in that moment, she threw off the duvet and pushed herself onto her feet.

“Right, well thanks for helping but I’ve got to get going.”

Damien knew it was a bad idea as she staggered and he caught her to help her up, a furrowed seething look on his face but Peach couldn’t let her injuries get the best of her. She curled her feet to get control of the feeling in her leg and slowly she was able to hold herself up, prying Damien’s hands off her and stumbling to the living room.

“Peach! It’s not a good idea, you’re injured.”

“I’ve been doing this for a good year. I’ll be fine.”

“Peach, you almost died!”

Peach stopped at the anguish in his tone hoping he would convince her to stay. She felt like she brushed hands with death but that was not going to stop her. EROS needed to end and they needed to pay for Nadia. Nadia, her sweet joyful cousin that had her back no matter what. Who made her laugh and cry, Nadia who offered her shoulder when EROS killed her brother. Nadia, who introduced her to Damien. She blinked back the tears away as she turned to face Damien. Tonight was starting to feel a lot like that night she left.

“It doesn’t matter, besides what’s it to you?”

She was about to turn away when he pulled her arm and yanked her towards him. Feeling the hot angry melt into her as Damien puffed chest brushed against hers. Damien was beyond angry at her attitude about his lack of compassion. He cared deeply for her and as much as he hated the way she lied, he still didn’t wish death on her. Even if she was wishing it on myself.

“A whole fucking lot, Peach! Despite all the shit you pulled and the lying, it’d hurt if you died. You’re in no health to leave so as an apology, you’re going to stay the fuck here.”

Swear words would make their way to Damien’s lips whenever he was full of wrath.

“EROS killed Nadia!”

At that moment, all the vengeful emotions in Damien’s soul molded with a deep feeling of remorse and bereavement. Nadia. She was Steve’s girlfriend, and a good friend of his. She was cheerful and bubbly, often bringing Damien and Steve chocolate cupcakes and great company at the precinct. He let go of Peach as he connected his eyes for the first time with her, trying to see if this was a ploy of hers. No, it wasn’t and he could see the way they killed Nadia in her eyes. He felt the pain surge in his body as he shook his head with disbelief.

“They - they.”

“They did Damien! And they have my friends: Pixel and Shockshot. I have to go rescue them.”

Damien shook his head and once again grabbed onto her arm.

“No!”

“Damien. EROS has to pay!”

“But not at the cost of your life!”

“It’s the only price I’m willing to pray.”

“But I’m not, Peach! I don’t want to lose you!”

Peach let out a humorless laugh at his concern. After all she had done, he still cared for her. She shoved his hand off as she crossed her arms, bringing up that night.

“Even after what I did to you? After I lied about being Eclipse.”

“I really wanted to hate you Peach. I wanted to but I couldn’t bring myself to it. After the amount of time we spent together, on the job and off, you are a good person. You bring out a better me. It took me a while but I get why you had to be Eclipse. If you leave now, injured and broken, EROS will take you down.”

Peach suddenly understood why Damien wanted her to stay. He was pretending to care about her so she would fall for his charm but her mind was made up. She was going to go, even if it was crumbling the respect that Damien had for her.

“Nice try with the whole ‘I care about you’ schtick but I’ve got to save my friends.”

She went to the sofa and lifted a cushion, pulling out a black duffle bag which had a spare Eclipse costume in it. Damien felt the anger surge again as he ran his hands through his fingers before trapping Peach in his arms. This time forcefully getting her to listen to him and hoping that his words get through.

“Damn it, Peach! You make this so fucking difficult! I love you! I mean that wholeheartedly. It might not be the best time but you need to hear it before you decide to go on a suicide mission. It hurt me so much when you left! It nearly killed me! I tried so hard to move on but you got under my skin and now you’re a part of me. If you leave now, I’m gone. I don’t think I could survive a life without you.”

Peach glanced up to see his tear ducts well up slightly and his face felt hot with desperation. At that moment, Peach could not refuse Damien. She loved him too much.

“I love you too.”

Damien blinked in surprise that he almost missed her soft whisper but she repeated with more conviction. The atmosphere was sizziling and the both of them heaved. Feelings of anguish, grief and regret swirled the air and there was only one thing in their mind.

“Kiss me, Peach.”

She did. She threw herself at him, arms around his neck and his hands lifting her to settle against his hips. Hot tears streaming from both their faces and merging to one drop as their lips rubbed against one another. Both their eyes shut as they let the sensation of feeling dominate the atmosphere, all the heartbreak and desperation dancing around them while the feeling of relief and unity floated through them. The both of them needed this as Damien began walking Peach to his room, carefully stripping off her clothes to avoid the bandages from ripping.

He stripped eagerly and sat Peach onto his lap, holding her close and letting her take control. His nose nestled into her sternum and breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla and orange: something just Peach. He knew she needed to press her anger onto him and he let her do that. Hissing and groaning at her scratching and the tugs into his hair while Peach desperately wanted to ignore her mistakes and failures. Absorbing into Damien and slowly rolling her hips as they stared deep into each other’s eyes.

Vulnerability was showering it’s rain as Damien and Peach took in the people they had now become. Full of anguish and regret as they climaxed with raw power that their union was mind melting. The both of them rested and panted at the conversation of their bodies, something new had happened and it needed to be addressed immediately. Damien knew that they still needed to talk but for the moment, he just wanted to hold on to Peach a little tighter as he fell into a peaceful slumber.

Damien rested on his stomach as his hands grazed the side of his bed for the soft plump hips he could sculpt but all he felt was a cold sheet as he felt the grogginess take a hold of him. Sitting up with the sheet covering his lower half, turning to the right he spotted a letter as his heart dropped to his soul.

Dear Damien,

Just know that I love you too. Ever since you saw me as Eclipse, I knew you were special. Your cynical nature made our encounters more fun and although I had a mission, you still took the time to make my mission fun. Part of me wasn’t worthy for you because you’re a detective and I’m a criminal vigilante.

The night when Nadia introduced you to me, I knew fate was playing a game. I tried my best to push you away but I couldn’t. Your bright soul reignited my happiness and helped me to recognise the best way to tackle the sorrow I had experienced. I should have told you the truth about being Eclipse and the way I left you that night. It was wrong of me.

I know you didn’t want me to go while I was injured but I needed to go. EROS needs to be stopped and I need to rescue my friends. You, of all people, know you can’t leave a case unsolved. I started this mission ages ago and now I need to end it. I care about you Damien but what I’m doing would help save many people. You’ve given me courage to fix this and I will. I hope you accept this. Deep down it’s the right thing to do, so I’m going to survive.

It doesn’t take a stupid multi-corporation to take down the Eclipse. Eclipse will rise and shadow EROS. Okay that sounded way too cheesy but I won’t let them kill me. I love you Damien and I promise I’ll be back with a bottle of Bacardi.

Peach and Eclipse.

#Damien #damien nazario #damien x mc #damien nazario x mc #damien nazario smut #angst #perfect match #choices #choices fanfiction #choices fic #choices smut #choices perfect match #pm #au #alternate universe

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littlepanduh-writes-365 · 4 years

Text

Day 314

Title: “Crash”

Description: Sooyoung gets in a car accident and calls Taeyeon

Prompt: “I’m at the hospital.”

Features: Sootae | Sooyoung & Taeyeon [platonic] (SNSD)

Word Count: 1,222

Tags: Angst, Minor Character Death

Content Warning: car accident, blood, cursing

Sooyoung’s bloodied thumb hovers over Taeyeon’s contact information.

She’s been trying to write a summary of what has happened in the past 3 hours. Memories flash quicker than lightning. An unorganized stream of thoughts courses through her brains, but attempting to sequence and formulate the story is still incomprehensible to Sooyoung. Feelings damage her in more ways than the car crash she just endured.

What hurts more: the cut on her head, her sore body, or the ache in her heart?

To her dismay, the screen shifts and the phone in her hand is buzzing. It’s a phone call from the person she’s been dreading to talk to for the past 15 minutes.

It rings 5 times. On the first ring, Sooyoung is still numb. On the second ring, she wants to back out. On the third ring, she knows she needs to answer. On the fourth ring, she realizes she can’t do it. On the last ring, Juhyun’s name is repeated and she knows she can’t hide forever.

There’s no salutation. Sooyoung doesn’t think she deserves the respect of it, nor does she have the time for it.

“Sooyoung! Why haven’t you been answering? Where the fuck are you? You guys were supposed to be here 2 hours ago! I hope you guys didn’t actually run away to dick around! All the guests are waiting for you guys!”

Sooyoung’s eyes well up again. She’s been crying nonstop ever since she gained consciousness and heard the news, but she tried to muster up some courage before talking to Taeyeon.

It’s bittersweet. Yuri and Tiffany were on board with being late to the party after grabbing some drinks. Only the maknae was against it. Tiffany was trying to coax her with a familiar club name, and Sooyoung thinks Juhyun might budge, but she never did. Sooyoung switched lanes to the freeway exit to Itaewon for teasing purposes, but knew she was going to keep her promise with Taeyeon.

Her head throbs and her throat is tight.

Maybe if she never made that detour to Itaewon, this would not have happened.

A flash of car crashing into each other stop Sooyoung’s train of thought.

“Choi Sooyoung! Answer me!” Taeyeon is rarely angry. That’s what hurts the most at the moment.

Sooyoung bites her lip. She covers her mouth with her hand to muffle a sob that was about to come out. She turns her head away, only to see her friend in the adjacent hospital bed, still unconscious.

She didn’t have to do this, but she feels obligated to do so. Taeyeon and the rest of the girls can’t be left in the blue about their whereabouts. Sooyoung is the only one conscious and who knows how long they’re going to be here.

Taeyeon growls, another characteristic trait that only comes out when she’s mad. “Sooyoung! I swear! I’m going to—!”

Sooyoung cuts her off, not emotionally stable to endure Taeyeon’s fury. “I’m at the hospital.”

The line is silent and Sooyoung has to check if it got cut off. When she realizes Taeyeon is still there, she repeats the story in her head.

How was she going to start again? Should she start with the accident? Should she build up to the events, starting at the last memory of flipping over? Should she start with the condition of the visitors? Should she start with herself, who has bandages all over her torso, or with the news of the Faithfully Departed?

The news about her friend still rings in her head and she feels herself starting to spiral out. Honestly, Sooyoung still can’t fully process anything and maybe she shouldn’t have called Taeyeon.

However, something was eating at her. She couldn’t hold onto the news alone. It’s been 2 hours since she regained consciousness. Apparently, this was the same time the paramedics announced the drunk driver and Juhyun’s time of deaths during the accident. An hour ago, Tiffany was admitted into operating room for an emergency surgery.

She didn’t want to break the news to anyone yet, but the idea of keeping this to herself didn’t seem right either.

Taeyeon’s stammering slightly keeps Sooyoung grounded. “Wh-What? What do you mean you’re at the hospital? Which hospital? What happened? Is everything okay?”

Sooyoung shakes her head. She sharply inhales and this time she can’t hold back the cry of pain. It doesn’t matter where the pain was coming from: the abrasions on her head and arm, the broken ribs, or her guilty conscious ness. It was becoming too much again.

“Sooyoungie.” Taeyeon was begging at this point.

“Just please don’t be mad at me.” Hot tears escape Sooyoung’s eyes and land on the hospital blanket. She takes a deep breath and feels the choke. There’s no point attempting to contain it. Her exhale is shaky and she’s sure Taeyeon can hear it.

Everything seems to be hitting her all at once.

It dreads her thinking this wouldn’t be the worst of it.

There will be another wave when she gets her. There will be another wave when everyone else finds out.

She can’t afford to think about that now.

“Mad? Why would I be—? What’s going on?”

Sooyoung hears shuffling around and she can only imagine that Taeyeon is dressing up and grabbing her keys.

“Who is that?” Hyoyeon can be heard on the other line and it’s another pang in Sooyoung’s heart.

Is everyone else there? Is Yoona waiting for Yuri to come back? Did Soonkyu bring the wine that she promised? Did Jessica actually come through?

How are they all going to respond to this?

“Unnie, I’ll send you the location and I’ll explain later. I have to go now.”

Sooyoung doesn’t give Taeyeon or Hyoyeon the time to respond as she immediately hangs up. She shares her location, but ignores the incoming calls. Without a care in the world, she cries out, thinking about Taeyeon’s horrified expression when she sees Tiffany in that hospital bed or hearing the news about Juhyun’s departure.

From the cries, a few nurses rush over to calm Sooyoung down. She doesn’t remember much except getting stabbed by a needle and then feeling lightheaded.

This was not the college reunion Sooyoung had in mind.

It was supposed to be nine women reminiscing their time in university and catching up with each other’s lives. They’d sing karaoke, drink wine until the sun came up, and share news about clothing store openings, marriages, plans for children, and more.

It wasn’t supposed to be seven women dressed in black and the other two’s remains in their respective urns. Sooyoung and Yuri are in wheelchairs. Taeyeon and Yoona push them around the mortuary.

“It’s not your fault.” Taeyeon and Hyoyeon constantly remind Sooyoung.

Sooyoung knows Taeyeon is right. The drunk driver was responsible for a five-car collision, ten injuries, and six total deaths, including his own. Still, guilt eats Sooyoung up. The memory of waking up in the ambulance still stings her. “There were four in the red van, but one of them didn’t make it,” still rings in her head. By the time she heard Tiffany didn’t survive the surgery, she was already numb and she knew it wasn’t from all the drugs. Tiffany and Juhyun’s banter and laughter haunt her in her sleep.

“Everyone has their destined time and place.” Sooyoung has heard the phrase more than 50 times by now, she thinks. She’s starting to hate the mortuary, but she knows she has to be here for her sisters.

Why now? Why then?

---------

Request Guidelines | CuriousCat | Twitter

#ive been kinda in a slump #but my head is still turning so i decided to just write whatever #found this prompt and cranked this out in 30 minutes #not the best but i really dont care #i just need to express feelings at this point #just feeling a bit angsty #gonna write some fluff after #littlepanduh #365 Challenge #sooyoung #taeyeon #angst #snsd #girls generation #snsd fanfiction

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Bram Stoker’s Dracula and the Seduction of Old School Movie Magic

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It was one of the most challenging shots in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Sitting before Roman Coppola’s second unit camera was a 50/50 mirror, the kind that was once commonplace in any illusionist’s magic shop, but which hadn’t seen the inside of a Hollywood studio in decades. On the other end of the glass lay Winona Ryder in bed, ostensibly asleep but soon to be bedeviled by a monstrous vampire.

Yet co-star Gary Oldman wasn’t on hand that day. Instead, at about a 90-degree angle away from Ryder’s boudoir, stood a duplicate set of the same size and shape, but buried in black velvet Duvetyne. And in that blackness, smoke created by dry ice was oozing its way around the velvet. When lit by green lights and reflected in the mirror, a sentient emerald mist suddenly appeared in the same room as Ryder. Dracula manifested out of thin air.

“That was a good one, if I may brag a little, in that it was a backwards photography [shot] with a 50/50 mirror,” Roman says in 2020. It’s been nearly three decades since that day on set at the legendary Culver Studios, and Roman Coppola is a bit older and far more seasoned, yet when he looks back at what he and his team achieved on Bram Stoker’s Dracula, he can’t help but marvel. After all, you could now run a video taken by your iPhone in reverse with the swipe of a finger. But there they were in 1991, “puppeteering” dry ice fog in reverse, so it would appear to be sneaking below a mattress when reflected off a mirror and captured at a 45-degree angle in a camera that was running its film backwards.

In truth it’s more or less the same effect John Henry Pepper invented in 1862 to conjure a ghost on stage. Literal smoke and mirrors in the digital age.

When Bram Stoker’s Dracula opened in November 1992, it astonished the industry and silenced many of Francis Ford Coppola’s sharpest critics. Snarked about in the press beforehand as “Bonfire of the Vampires”—a reference to Brian De Palma’s misbegotten Bonfire of the Vanities (1990)—the whispers were that director Coppola had created a lurid and weird vampire movie based on one of the most oversaturated characters in fiction. Well, Bram Stoker’s Dracula was certainly lurid and weird, but in the best possible way.

Originally conceived as a Victorian man’s repressed anxieties about lust and passion being given demonic shape, Coppola’s vision for Dracula was entirely divorced from the pop culture image of Bela Lugosi in a cape. While the movie was marketed as the director of The Godfather going back to the 1897 source novel that no one had ever faithfully adapted (which turned out to be only partially true), the movie’s true appeal lies in its decadent imagery. It’s a marriage of lavish costumes, freaky makeup, and half-forgotten magician’s effects. And the last bit was given new life by Francis’ son, Roman, who became the film’s visual effects director.

Somehow it all came together, with performers such as Oldman, Anthony Hopkins, Tom Waits, and Ryder going so big that their cries threatened to burst through the soundstage walls. The hypnotic union thrilled audiences, who made Bram Stoker’s Dracula a surprise holiday blockbuster, and was ultimately celebrated by the industry, which awarded the movie three Oscars, including one for Eiko Ishioka’s dazzling costumes and Greg Cannon’s makeup. The irony is that, in its way, it was the industry’s skepticism toward Francis Ford Coppola that made the movie’s unusual vision possible.

“For some reason I always thought it was unfair I had the reputation of being a director who spent a lot of money, which is not really the case,” Francis said in a recent interview with film critic F.X. Feeney. “The only movie that I really spent a lot of money on, and went way over budget, was Apocalypse Now.”

Be that as it may, when Ryder first piqued Coppola’s interest about making a Dracula movie, which as it turned out was a favorite novel from his youth, he knew the studio would never agree to Coppola’s first inclination: As with going to the jungles of the Philippines on Apocalypse Now or Sicily in The Godfather, Coppola initially imagined shooting Dracula in Transylvania and inside actual crumbling castles.

“I knew the studio would be a little leery of getting this director with three names to do this Dracula picture, and possibly go off to Romania, and it’d be a Heaven’s Gate scenario, or Apocalypse Now scenario, so I played into that. I said, ‘You know, we could go and make the film in Romania, we could go to the real Castle Dracula… or I could make it all in the studio… In fact, I’ll make the entire picture right in a soundstage, a group of soundstages right under your noses. They just loved it, they ate it up.”

That was how Francis pitched himself into the movie, but how he made it worthwhile stemmed from two separate ideas bleeding into one otherworldly vision: First that the laws of physics would never apply when you were in the presence of a vampire; and second, if he was going to attempt to authentically return to the Victorian world of Stoker’s 1897 novel, he also would return to the early world of cinema where the laws of physics were never even considered.

“The period of the turn of the century was the birth of movies,” Francis said. “And movies, as you know, largely came about because of magicians who started to use the cinema to make illusions…. That’s when I became excited about the idea of [having] this story 100 percent shot in soundstages and not only using illusions and magic, and effects, but using effects as they were done at the turn of the century, which was in-camera.”

Thus entered Roman Coppola. Only 26 when Bram Stoker’s Dracula went before cameras, Roman wasn’t necessarily his father’s first choice to lead the visual effects. While Francis’ accounts have varied over the years as to whether his first head of special effects quit or was fired, the one consistency in Francis’ telling is that modern effects experts were exasperated by the idea of using almost no optical printers or new digital effects, and instead focusing on in-camera tricks. “Absurd” was the word Francis heard. But as it so happened, his son already had a passion for magic and the old ways, absurd though they may be.

“I was involved [on the movie] already,” Roman says. “I was going to be second unit [director], and we wanted the effects and second unit all to be one group effort, and do that stuff live. And when I started to take certain leadership and do storyboards, and supervise certain preparation, it was just clear that I was able to direct these efforts in a way that was more in my dad’s wishes, which is to really genuinely, deeply embrace the idea of total adhesion to ‘how would they have done it back in the day?’”

In retrospect Roman taking over leadership on the effects in Bram Stoker’s Dracula—to the point where he’s given the title card of “Visual Effects and Second Unit Director” in the end credits—seems natural. Ever since his uncle David Shire introduced him to theatrical magic as a young child, Roman has had a lifelong fascination with the tricks of illusion and sleight of hand. He still recalls boyhood days spent at Los Angeles’ Hollywood Magic store and San Francisco’s House of Magic, learning the trade of visual trickery, such as John Pepper’s “Pepper’s Ghost,” and staying up to watch Paul Michael Glaser in the 1976 TV movie The Great Houdini. In San Francisco, he saw Tony Slydini on stage.

“After 12 and 13, I stopped being so active,” Roman says. “But later, as a younger person in my 20s, I started to get back into it and get a lot of books, and collect certain apparatuses. It’s just something I found a real love for.”

Culture

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By David Crow

It also perfectly positioned him to spearhead Dracula’s visual effects. And one of the first things Roman and his team did was curate a film reel, or “visual library,” of all the points of reference from classic cinema they could use as inspiration.

“The movies that were much more points of reference are a touch later, but still drawing on the same principles,” Roman says when we mention early cinema pioneers, including Georges Méliès. “Jean Cocteau was a particular influence, Beauty and the Beast [1946], Orpheus [1950], and Blood of a Poet [1930]. So those are all movies that we drew a lot of inspiration from.”

Indeed, during the scene where Keanu Reeves’ Jonathan Harker explores Castle Dracula, a single carved arm in the wall is holding a candelabra in homage to Beauty and the Beast. Meanwhile Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960) inspired the nightmarish imagery of Harker’s carriage ride through a desolate mountain range, with the ominous passing tree branches actually being grips whacking the carriage as it was rocked in place.

Other films in the reel might include F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu (1922) or Carl Th. Dreyer’s Vampyr (1932), but Roman cites the biggest influences as being actual books on magic he turned to for research. Some were as old as Stoker’s novel itself. Erik Barnouw’s The Magician and the Cinema (1981) was a major touchstone on the movie; Sam Sharpe, author of Neo Magic (1932) and Conjurers’ Optical Secrets (1985) was another; and then crucially there was Magic: Stage Illusions, Special Effects and Trick Photography, which was written by Albert A. Hopkins in 1897.

Explains Roman, “Those books were the bibles of the research, and those have all sorts of references.” For instance, recall the grandiose prologue of the film. With baroque glee the movie begins not in 1897 but 1462. That is the year the real-life Vlad the Impaler repelled the Ottoman Empire and protected Christendom by slaughtering thousands of Turks. The sequence was Francis’ invention, and one he called his “Origin of Batman” scene on the set. But rather than actually film a battle scene, or even actual daylight, the warring portion of the sequence is completely captured via unnatural silhouette, with shadow puppets before a blood-red sky standing in for actual humans as they are impaled on a forest of pikes.

Says Roman, “If you get the book of Hopkins’ Magic, you will see other things like shadowgraphy, which is using shadow puppets. There was a guy named Caran d’Ache, who I think became famous because he’s the namesake of the Swiss colored pencil company. But he was the originator, or at least excelled in, shadowgraphy. And when you see the opening of Dracula, all those shadow puppets, that was inspired by an example from that book.”

This focus on the classical principles of stagecraft and magic, reverse photography and compositing images with a forced perspective, is the secret of Bram Stoker’s Dracula’s lingering appeal. As Roman points out, there were no effects they feared wouldn’t work. If they could achieve how things were done then, they’d appear inexplicable in the dawning age of digital effects.

“There’s a lot of steps and a lot of process that can be painstaking, but I don’t think we did anything that was pushing a boundary,” he says. “I think everything was an accepted principle that we knew, ‘Well, this is going to work if we do it right.’ There was nothing groundbreaking. We adhered to all the old tricks.”

There could certainly be setbacks, Roman recalls during Dracula’s voyage to London on the doomed Demeter that they exposed the same negative to five passes of filming. This is to say they attempted to combine five separately filmed images as the camera swung on the set by rewinding the film before each new pass. But because the frame line was incorrect on one of the passes, the whole multi-step take was ruined.

But the effects they did achieve all have a potency that register as alien to our modern eye. Some can be as simple as running the film backward in the camera, giving a macabre, unnatural sense of movement as Sadie Frost’s newly turned vampire Lucy climbs into her coffin after being accosted with a crucifix. In reality, she was filmed simply climbing out of it. Others might be slightly more complex, such as a black matte box being used over multiple passes.

For instance, when rats appear to run upside down on a girder above Jonathan Harker in the castle, two passes were used. In the first, the camera was upside down with the black matte covering the top of the lens as rats ran across a piece of set; then the camera was turned upright, the film rewound, and the other half of the lens was exposed while the original portion was covered as Reeves was burned into the negative.

BBC/Netflix Dracula’s Behind-the-Scenes Set Secrets

By Louisa Mellor

Among my personal favorites is the extreme perspective of Ryder’s 1462 Princess Elisabeta flinging herself from a castle parapet into a river, which Roman reveals “was basically a puppet with a forced perspective, and a little river below, [with] some tricks to make the scale look correct.”

Another was the much more complex series of techniques used during the vignette of Jonathan Harker traveling by train into Transylvania. In the finished film, Reeves sits in a shadowy train compartment with stark mountains out the window. Soon they fade away into darkness as Oldman’s predatory eyes appear on the horizon. Outside the train, Harker’s journal entry about the day’s travel is visible in the frame, running the length of the train track and just below the crossing transport.

“That was done by Gene Warren Jr. at Fantasy II [Film Effects], and that was multi-pass, multiple exposures,” Roman says. Among them was a rear projection created over two passes on the same piece of film. The first was comprised of multiple layers of the mountain range background moving at different speeds from right to left, while the camera moved left to right. In the second pass, the lights were turned out and Oldman’s eyes, as filmed by Roman, were projected as the only source of light onto the same background. All of this was then rear projected behind Reeves in a separate shot while he sat in his carriage. Conversely, in one of his close-ups, a map of 19th century Transylvania appears on his face via front projection.

And as for the journal in the same frame as the train? According to visual effects camera operator Christopher Lee Warren in “In Camera: The Naive Effects of Dracula,” they built a 20-foot wide replica of Harker’s journal entry so it could stand 10 feet in each direction between the camera and a miniature train, all to get the right type of sunset shadow being cast across its pages.

As just one in a string of intricate effects and set-pieces achieved by Roman and his team, the effects’ cumulative impact is immeasurable. In its way, Bram Stoker’s Dracula works on the level Francis wanted: He was able to bring it closer to Stoker’s world and plot, if not necessarily Stoker’s themes. As Francis more openly admits in recent years, when Ryder first approached him with a draft of James V. Hart’s script for Dracula, it was about a gushing love story between the dashing Count and Mina Murray Harker.

Ironically, that may be the element of the film that lingers most on subsequent pop culture depictions of Dracula. But it was Francis’ insistence on the script being rewritten, and rewritten again, to incorporate all of Stoker’s narrative beats, side characters, and supernatural wickedness, as well as the sense of a British society in upheaval. It was the dawn of a new century, the twilight of an old monarch, and an age for scientific discovery and technology, be it in the realm of blood transfusion… or moviemaking.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula is at its best when it drinks deeply from its dreamlike environment and atmosphere, capturing the base dread in Victorian culture of suddenly being confronted by what it deemed irrational or lascivious. And those elements mingle to gory delight when the aspects Coppola cared about most took center stage.

“The focus [was] on the actors, the costumes, and this unusual way of doing live-action and multiple take effects done in-camera,” Francis said. And when it’s Hopkins, Richard E. Grant, and the rest of the ensemble standing around Sadie Frost in an extravagant 19th century wedding dress while being filmed in reverse, its sense of tone and style is overwhelming.

Talalay’s Terrors! The Director Breaks Down Her 5 Scariest Scenes

By Kayti Burt

On his end, Roman met that goal, and underlined the movie’s macabre madness, with ideas as primal and orgasmic as firing waves of blood out of air cannons during the scene where Dracula kills Lucy—“That was just a total last minute thing of like… ‘Hey don’t we have a bunch of blood bullets? Let’s put it in those air cannons and see what happens”—and it also paid off in old-fashioned Hollywood bravura, like the climax where Harker and the other vampire hunters chase Dracula down the Borgo Pass.

As second unit director, Roman shot much of that finale—as well as about 20 percent of the finished film—on the same soundstages where Merian C. Cooper filmed King Kong (1933) and David O. Selznick burned Atlanta in Gone with the Wind (1939). And a few years before Jurassic Park changed movie effects forever, Roman and his father were in that space, filming Reeves, Hopkins, and the rest approaching on horseback an enormous looming castle… which was created by Michael Pangrazio and Craig Barron by painting it on matted glass.

“That is remarkable that that would still be done in our time,” Roman reflects. “It’s hard to imagine that will ever happen again, latent image matte painting. It’s a great way to do something, but you need to have the skill to do it… and that’s just sort of a dying art.”

Not that Roman doesn’t still indulge the old ways. Many of his modern collaborators adore miniatures, for example. “I work with Wes Anderson often, and he likes to use miniatures, and he does it pretty liberally,” Roman says. “So I think there’s always a place for that.”

But composite shots? One where you put a sky or castle in the same shot with a miniature and live-action over multiple passes?

“It’s not possible to imagine someone wishing to do that on an optical printer, because for one, they don’t really exist [anymore],” Roman says. “Number two, it degrades the image, and there’s a lot of reason not to.”

Like the in-camera effects that fascinated two generations of Coppolas, even the optical printing techniques they were largely forgoing in 1992 have become obsolete in the age of computer generated imagery. Even the backwards-looking Bram Stoker’s Dracula has a single CG effect, with Roman conceding the transformation at the end of the movie, where demonic Dracula turns back into Prince Vlad in death, was done with CGI. But as Roman says, it was used judiciously at the conclusion as “a real punctuation mark.”

And perhaps Bram Stoker’s Dracula is itself a punctuation mark. A last hurrah for antiquated styles of moviemaking that were long gone, or about to be, and a chance to open a magician’s bag of tricks to fool the eye into believing, as Francis says, “the earth doesn’t rotate at exactly the right speed” in the presence of a vampire. It’s why the movie has aged like fine wine (if you drink the stuff), and likely will continue to do so while many other effects-driven movies are practically timestamped by their imagery.

“It was unique to a time and place,” Roman says. “I’m sure other movies, other horror movies in particular, over time will represent a time and a place, but this seems to be the one that represents that time and place.”

That time, and perhaps that of a century earlier.

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theromanticrationalist · 4 years

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Star Trek 2009 Rewatch #79834: Random Thoughts

- The opening sequence always makes me cry. I don’t think there will be ever a time where it WON’T make me cry.

- It is so James T. Kirk to come out of the womb during a ship wide emergency. Totally on brand.

- BB SPOCK!!!! He is precious and pure. Zachery Quinto’s Spock is so vulnerable and tender. I want to hug him in his snuggly Vulcan sweater! *incoherent fan girl noises*

- This time around I really noticed what a presence Sarek is in Spock’s life as a father. It wasn’t something I noticed until after being much more familiar with the Prime Timeline, but Sarek telling him, “You will always be a child of two worlds, for this I am grateful, as I am grateful for you.” This just blew me away and broke my heart into a thousand splintering pieces. It just made me realize that if Prime Sarek hadn’t been such a douche of a Dad, Spock would have been much more stable of a person, much more confident in his human and Vulcan sides. Sure, he will always struggle between his two sides, but Quinto’s Spock embraces emotion and the expression of it in a much more relaxed and less tumultuous way. I mean Spock making out with Uhura within turbolifts or on a transporter pad is so scandalous! Prime Spock would NEVER in a thousand years be caught doing that, he would have rather died. Literally. Just watched Amok Time, and Spock was literally going to just let himself die before he told anyone on the ship about his little problem. I know many TOS fans have had problems with the Kelvin timeline portrayal of Spock, but that is because since the timelines were changed, very important and key points in the character’s lives changed. Just ask the question, if Sarek was a much warmer father figure in Spock’s life, if they were able to bond much deeper, how would that change Spock? Quite significantly! The strained relationship that Prime Spock had with his father is essentially the crux of his entire character and identity. It is what made him who he was, the Spock we see in TOS - so desperate to mold and fashion himself into a Vulcan, to suppress all his emotions, all to seek the love and approval of his father. Sarek loved Spock, always, but by not validating his human half, he kind of screwed up his kid for life - so Spock Prime’s path to inner peace was a difficult one. A path that Quinto’s Spock will never have to take because his father, after a Vulcan fashion, supports his son, especially after they both lose Amanda and their home planet. Sarek admitting he A. loved his wife and B. admitting this to Spock? Doubly scandalous! The Kelvin Universe is really quite knowledgeable of the canon, and purist Star Trek fans don’t give it that credit. They weren’t just going to make a carbon copy of the TOS series, but were wanting to change and bring all the characters we know and love into new vistas. I think it is brilliant. I have heard within the grapevine of the Internet that JJ Abrams did not care very much for Star Trek, but essentially saw the Star Trek films as a stepping stone for Star Wars. Well, I say, J.J. Abrams did so much more for the Star Trek canon for something he supposedly didn’t care about than anything he did for Star Wars, which was a complete mess. So, I’m okay with that. It is obvious he had a writing team that cared about the canon, and it shows. This time around, this whole movie just broke my heart. I LOVE STAR TREK SO MUCH.

- Kirk and Spock meeting for the first time at the Federation board hearing. “Who is that pointy-eared bastard?” Me: *in Crow T. Robot’s voice* “In love! You’re in love!”

- I feel like Dr. McCoy just permanently carries with him hypos of various things just so he can conveniently use them for underhanded and scathingly brilliant ideas.

- Pavel Andreievich Chekov. *cries* *rolls over* *cries a lot*

- Hikaru Sulu and his fencing. SO BADASS. I was so cheering him on even more!

- You know, another thing I noticed was Captain Pike. In the Prime timeline, as seen through Star Trek Discovery (and will be seen in the up and coming Star Trek Strange New Worlds), Pike is a surrogate father to Spock, and helps him in so many ways, giving him that emotional and spiritual guidance that Sarek wasn’t able to give him. That made me realize that Pike is both Spock and Kirk’s Space Dad! In both timelines where either of them did not have a father, Pike steps in and helps guide both of them in the right direction. I’m just - this just makes me feel a lot of feelz, okay? PIKE IS THE BEST DAD IN THE WHOLE MULTIVERSE.

- I still get a kick out of Spock Vulcan nerve pinching Kirk and tossing him on a cold, frozen, and dangerous planet like he is yesterday’s lunch. Don’t be messing with this Vulcan, bro.

- I still can’t believe Scotty transported Archer’s beagle into the void! How could you Scotty?!!? My poor Puppy and his pup!

- The moment when Kirk realizes he is falling in love with Spock: when he meets Spock Prime. And really you know - same. I mean seriously, he has hearts in his eyes every single time he interacts with Spock afterwards, even when he is antagonizing him into being emotionally compromised, which he was enjoying a little too much.

- The moment when Spock realizes he is falling in love with Kirk: “I would cite regulation, but I know you would simply ignore it.” - “See, we are getting to know each other.” Spock has much more control, though.

- Spock and Uhura making out on the transported pad is still just GOLD. And everyone is just like: 👀👀👀 *awkward*. “So her first name is Nyota?” - “I have no comment on the matter.” 😂

- “I will be monitoring your frequencies.”

- I loved the repeated imagery of Kirk struggling on the edge within Nero’s ship during his big fight scene, which mimics his childhood struggle on the edge during his rebellious incident. Seriously, Kirk’s character arc is meticulous crafted within these movies. There is no detail left unattended, and I just love it.

- Actually, Kirk gets his ass beat A LOT in this film. Wow. He gets beat up literally by everyone basically.

- Spock calling Kirk “Jim”. That’s when you know it was the point of no return.

- There is a black hole in space consuming the enemy ship of a notorious and crazed criminal who has just committed genocide of one planet and was trying to do so on your home planet, and your first thought is literally nothing else other than, “How can I use this situation to impress Spock?”

“You show them compassion may be the only way to earn peace with Romulus. It's logic, Spock. Thought you'd like that.”

“No, not really. Not this time.”

- You know, I’ve really come to realize that the TOS crew are INSANE. Brilliant, beautiful, incredible, but insane.

- Spock meeting Spock and giving life advice to Spock. This is totally on brand.

- Spock Prime: “Thrusters on full...” *sobs into the fabric of spacetime*

#Star Trek #Star Trek 2009 #kelvin timeline #JJ abrams #spock #james t kirk #tos #aos #my thoughts #I JUST LOVE STAR TREK #SO FREAKIN MUCH #and the music gets me emotional too!#these movies are the best

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neshabeingchildish · 4 years

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WEEK ONE: CHARACTERS 1/08 | Jasper Dunlop

I decided to share my favorite piece from a fic that I’ve written about Jasper. It’s an excerpt/flashback sequence from Determined: A Chasper Fic where I establish a headcanon for Jasper that I bring everywhere with me now, unless something else specifically happens. It’s about buckets, but sad. I was gonna do one of my Jasper headcanons thingies... Maybe another time. :)

And the FCs for these unknown/other characters are HERE. Did not select a Bilsky dad.

Whenever Jasper's dad popped the question to his mom, she was just about visibly pregnant, embarrassed about it and desperate to do this the right way. Jack Leigh was desperate to "fix his mistakes" and "make an honest woman out of her." Oh, and also drunk. So drunk, that he didn't know if he was coming or going. He needed the liquid courage to go back to her after she'd told him that if she had to do this on her own, she would. She didn't have to do it on her own! At least, he didn't want her to. He couldn't figure out where he'd get a ring at this time of night, but came across one of those Bilsky brothers. The whole family was a bag of rotten apples. One of them had to know a guy… Hell, one of them WAS the guy. "A ring? Yeah, I got rings. What's your budget?" Jack Leigh emptied his pockets and had maybe a few hundred bucks, and a punch card. He shook his head and called, "Jeff! Get Daddy that box of rings! The cheap ones!" A teenage boy rushed to… of all places… the BBQ pit and lifted the lid and grabbed a box. Daddy Bilsky gave it to his old buddy and said, "I'll letcha grab two of 'em. I hear you gotta get two. My old lady and I got hitched on the run, so we never even got one of them, but I've collected her plenty over the years. She don't notice when the cheap ones go missing." Jack Leigh didn't even shift through the box. He grabbed a couple, waved to them and went on his way.

Jeff came back to his father and asked, "Dad, how mad would you be if I think I gave you the good stuff?" Jack Leigh heard Daddy Bilsky fussing at his kid, but he was too out of it to hear what he was saying.

Whenever Pansy left, Jack Leigh got one of those rings back. She threw the wedding ring right at his head and slammed the door as hard as she could with a baby on her waist. He was too drunk to care about whatever she'd said, too. He was often that way, but he did come across that ring again when he was clearing out of that little place. He tossed it in his pocket, in case he ever wanted to pawn it. Might be cheap, but he could probably get a few beers for it. It stayed in his wallet most of the time, though. He couldn't see Jasper back then… legal stuff that he totally understood at the time, but whenever he would look at the ring and think about hocking it, he'd think about his baby boy, out there… The one that he'd even bought the stupid thing for. He couldn't seem to part with it. Not because he missed his wife, but because he took a wife because he was going to be a father, and nobody but him messed that up. It was a reminder that he needed to get clean and needed to straighten up. Maybe some day, he could see Jasper again. Maybe someday, he'd give him this stupid ring. He got it appraised, just to see if it was worth anything. Because he was curious if the sentimental value of it would even mean anything to the kid… this was maybe 3 years later. The damn thing was worth more than his crummy life. He could literally sell it and probably wind up getting himself out of his debt! But… looking at the thing, listening to the guy talk to him, very suspicious that this shady character probably stole this from some place, and was likely gonna put out an alert about it… Jack Leigh thanked him for his time and put it back into his wallet. He hadn't gotten completely clean, but that was sobering. He knew he had to keep it together, carrying something worth that much with him, especially considering that it was worth even more in sentimental value.

He met Jasper when he was four. Adorable chubby kid with dimples and curly hair. He was excited to meet him and told him everything that he could possibly tell him. Jack Leigh came to a realization whenever Pansy told him that he could come to see him… He'd messed up. He should have had a room FULL of gifts and cards and money that he never got a chance to deliver over the past four years. He should have had candy and cookies and really… fanfare. All he had was that ring and he certainly couldn't hand him that at age 4. He stopped at one of those weird gas station gift shops and said, "Anything for like a 4 year old kid… I don't even know what he likes!"

"We got grab buckets," she said and pointed towards a display. It was like a grab bag, but in a bucket. All kinds of little toys and stuff that would most likely break and stuff if it wasn't a choke hazard. Hopefully, Pansy wouldn't kill him. He went over there with a bucket of junk and threw in a hundred dollar bill that he got back after this purchase. Pansy was judging him from the moment that he handed that garbage to her son. But, the kid was excited, "WOW! A BUCKET!"

"Uhhh… there's stuff in it. Toys and stuff," Jack Leigh said. Jasper got onto his tiptoes, but Jack kneeled in front of him, seeing his features for the first time since he was an infant. Seeing how much like his own childhood photos he looked. Pansy must've seen it too. There was something about the way that she looked at the kid. Jack Leigh didn't like it, but who was he to judge? He hadn't even been around.

"Jasper, I don't think that any of that stuff is safe to play with!" She said and snatched the bucket from his little hands. He jumped, frightened and Jack Leigh noticed and reached for his hand, to try to give him some comfort. He was about to cry. She was taking away the only thing his daddy had given him…

"Well, can't he at least have the bucket?" Jack Leigh asked.

She looked at him like he was an idiot. "He's four. Why would he want this ugly big bucket?"

"I do want the bucket, Mom! I love it. It's a nice bucket, Daddy." She looked bothered. She dumped the toys in the garbage and handed him the bucket back, then went to sit down, and glare at them. Jasper didn't really look in her direction during the visit, but Jack Leigh wondered if he couldn't feel the same… whatever it was that she had radiating for him that he felt from her. He was allowed a few more visits, until he showed up with Adanna one day. Pansy stepped outside and interrogated her, then said that Jasper wouldn't be coming for any more of these "disappointing little visits," and sprinkled on at the end, "And I WILL be contacting you about child support!" That was that.

Adanna convinced him to fight for custody, at least shared. He had gotten his life together and he shouldn't have to be punished forever. There were disputes, but after a while, he ran out of money for that fight and her husband didn't. So, not only could he still not see Jasper, and had legal fees, but… child support. He couldn't do it. He'd already gotten so low, that he went back to some of his old ways. He was lucky to have Adanna around. Eventually thought about giving her the ring, but explained to her why he didn't think that he could. "Can I at least see it?" she wondered.

He pulled it out and she was already uneasy. He handed it to her and she cried, "I'm glad that you don't want to give this to me, because it's full of negative energy. Guilt, despair, regret, heartache… This isn't something that you give to someone that you care about."

"Should I get rid of it? Sell it? I'm probably never going to see my son again…"

"Even if you see him, he can't have this, Jack Leigh. It's got a signature on it."

"Is there a way to fix it?"

She cleansed the ring and once she was done, she smiled at it and said, "This ring has new hope. It wants to find someone to love, but it feels like it belongs to someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know, but I sense that this ring wouldn't be at home with me." She reached out to give it to him, but he shook his head.

"If you hand it to me, it'll just absorb my negative energy again. You hold on to it for me. If I don't give it to Jasper, I guess it'll find its way to whoever. I want it to find them in peace."

Jasper, Charlotte, and Henry were sitting on the floor, talking about their readings. Henry was shaken up by his, but Jasper kept staring at the Fool. Adanna said, "Jasper, can I show you something?" He got up and followed her through some crystal beaded curtains to a cute little room, where she climbed up a step ladder and got a ring box off of her bookshelf. "Jack Leigh told you about this, right? When you two talked?" She stepped down and opened the box to show him a ring and his heart leaped in his chest.

"Is this my mom's wedding ring that she threw at his head? I've heard about it from her! She'd say, if I'd been more smart than mad, I'd have pawned that for the child support! Can I touch it?" She handed it to him and told him the story, because obviously, Jack Leigh had been more focused on the drinking, the fighting and the accident. Jasper gasped and said, "You think that this ring belongs with me?"

"I think that it belongs with her," she said and glanced at Charlotte through the beads. Charlotte was laughing a melodious laugh at a story that Uncle Roscoe was telling on speaker phone, while catching up with Jack Leigh. "I think that she'll love it, when you're ready." She cupped his chin and lovingly said, "Fool."

#Henry Danger #henrydangermonth #characters #Jasper Dunlop

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etherian-affairs · 5 years

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Fear Not The Weapon

Catra had everything. She made Force Captain, became second in command, captured and turned She-Ra. She even had friends in Scorpia and Entrapta though she would never say that out loud. Lord Hordak was pleased with her, she essentially had free reign over the Horde while he and Entrapta focused on whatever project they had going on. Something about portals, as Entrapta had rambled out.

...

Yet she was laying in bed unable to sleep, on the verge of a breakdown.

She had won a major victory today. A rebel base had been uncovered and Catra went in, just herself, scorpia, and She-Ra.

Adora.

...

The carefully controlled rage virus was unleashed. All Catra had to do was stand far enough away and watch She-Ra destroy everything around her. It was an easy victory, they're all easy victories with She-Ra.

It's the aftermath that's so hard. Seeing Adora's heart break again and again when she realizes what she's just done. At first it wasn't so bad but Catra had heard something about death by a thousand cuts once, it was like that.

When they first captured Adora things hadn't been that bad at all. There was a binary. She was either a raging killing machine of unimaginable power, or she was a loopy idiot stumbling around and telling Catra that she's so happy they're best friends again. Both were okay. Loopy was kind of fun to be around in all honesty.

Then Entrapta managed to find the balance. They were able to bring Adora out in the form of She-Ra, let her think through the blood haze the First One's virus caused. The less of a hold the virus had the more pleading Adora looked. It made her disgusted at first.

As Entrapta's experiments continued it made her hurt.

Adora's loopy self was still okay. She would ask Catra why they were being so mean and if she told Adora that Adora was imagining things she would wander off into some other topic.

Then as Entrapta's science gave them solutions to each problem one by one it became clear that Adora's time as a lab rat was going to be over. She would be a weapon.

...

Catra rolls out of bed as she thinks about all of this, heading quietly down the halls of the Fright Zone.

...

The day that the restraining suit was constructed around Adora started a proud one. Despite all of the swirling emotions Catra had been feeling she felt satisfaction at this. She-Ra dressed in Horde machines. Ready to crush her friends. Adora had even obediently followed Catra, and the knowledge that they had broken her so thoroughly created more joy than hurt at the time.

The day did not end proudly. Not for Adora or Catra. It ended the same way today's victory ended. The same way every one does.

The rage virus is suppressed, Adora is made herself again, at least as much of herself as they can actually make her. Entrapta says that without fully purging the virus she will never be entirely clear headed. Then they take her back to the Fright Zone. Adora is almost always quiet, resignation written on her. At some point during the journey back Adora will inevitably ask the question.

"Are you happy with this?"

Catra always lies.

Every single time, and every single time it makes Catra angry. Every single time there's nothing she can do to get that anger out because she's already won.

Adora is left as She-Ra the majority of the time now. It's easier than constantly reassembling the restraining suit. She just sits there in her containment chamber. A shell with nothing to offer to the world. Even when she sleeps she's being held up by the restraining suit. Her superhuman form apparently able to handle that position. There's another reason they keep her as She-Ra though.

When the suit needs maintenance they revert Adora back to her loopy self. Except she's not loopy anymore. She knows, she remembers. She sobs. She cries out. None of what she says is ever well constructed or even particularly intelligible but the meaning is clear. She knows what she's doing. She knows what they're doing to her. In this state every one of those emotions pours out. The silence She-Ra maintains gives way.

Catra cannot be around this Adora anymore. It made her physically ill the last time.

...

Now though, in this moment, the doors to Adora's containment chamber slide open one at a time. There are four total. Two back to back, an airlock of sorts, then another two. The room was designed for the inevitability of her escape attempts.

Catra steps inside.

Adora is still awake, sitting on a crate in her chamber. The suit severely limits her when she's not in battle, it makes sitting still the only thing that isn't difficult. The broken young woman looks up at Catra. Sorrow is openly apparent in her eyes.

"Catra... Please... Not twice in one day... Can't it wait until tomorrow?..." Adora does not usually plead like this. Though Catra also usually doesn't make Adora fight more than once a day at the most.

Catra's had enough of this Adora.

"It can't. Get up, one last mission and you're done." Catra walks over to the consoles nearby, accessing them.

Adora looks confused now. "Last mission? What are you talking about?..."

"Jeez Adora we didn't take away that much of your brain." She jokes bitterly. "last mission. Then you're done. You do this, then I break the disc and take that suit off of you. Then I guess kick you out of the Fright Zone."

There's a heavy silence. Then Adora just looks at the floor. "Seriously Catra?" It's almost a sob when she says it. "After everything you decide to try and mess with me like this too?!" Her fists are clenching. She's getting angry.

"Nope." Catra hits the arming sequence command, readying the sword for retrieval in the airlock. "You're going to kill Hordak, I'm going to take his place, then you're out of here forever."

Adora's rage falters and she looks up quickly. "W-what?..."

"Adora would you just get up. Hordak's going to find out what I'm doing in like ten minutes max and you can either come with me or I can force you."

Adora stands up.

#my writing #adora #catra #darkfic

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eene-fangirl · 5 years

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Titanic: Never Let Me Ed Chapter 17

Well, here it is. The final chapter to @nintendogal55 and I’s crossover of Ed, Edd n Eddy, and Titanic. It feels so bizarre that we started writing this in January and now it is finished. It’s bittersweet to see it end.

Thank you all for reading our story! However, there are a few snippets of in-between sequences I have written so be on the lookout! And @nintendogal55 and I have been talking about another story collab on the epic disaster film, Twister so stay tuned!

For now, enjoy the final chapter of Titanic: Never Let me Ed.

And if you would like to read the whole story, here is the masterpost.

“Let me see you, Double D!” Eddy beckoned amongst their tight embrace.

Edd felt overwhelmed, squeezing his dear lover tightly. “Please, don’t let go? I’m afraid you’ll disappear!”

Eddy shook his head. “Ain’t no way am I ever doin’ that to you again! ‘Sides I got a surprise for ya!”

Slowly releasing Eddy, Edd looked into the man’s baby blue eyes seeing himself in the reflection. Eddy had awful black wrinkles surrounding his eyes, indicating his lack of sleep. Other than that Eddy looked his usual self. But wait, did he look ready to cry again?

Reaching into his back pocket, Eddy pulled out a familiar black sock-like hat.

“My hat!” Edd exclaimed gleefully like a child. He thought he was never going to see it again. Taking it, Edd gently placed it over his head. Now he felt like himself. Then again, now he felt a sense of pride that he never felt before. This was the longest amount of time he spent without wearing his hat. And yet the scar didn’t matter. No, the scar was not a symbol that marked him as a monster as his parents made him out to be. Now he was brave. Strong. He could do anything.

“How did you find it? No, what am I saying? How did you and Ed get yourselves to safety?” Edd asked both of them, out of breath from all the excitement. His heart was still racing.

“We got on a lifeboat that was upside down!” Ed explained. “Eddy and I were separated from you so we were calling out your name in the water but we got no answer!”

“I was calling out your names, too,” Edd declared sadly. He couldn’t bear that horrible loneliness out in the ocean. Edd had a feeling that Eddy was guilty that they didn’t stay together from the way he appeared quiet and uncomfortable. The man wouldn’t even meet his gaze. It was quite a contrast from his animated and loud personality that he never got tired of.

“And then we found Kevin who helped us on to the capsized lifeboat with a bunch of other men,” Ed went on. “Boy, was it freezing! Eddy and I had to snuggle together just to keep warm!”

“I wish I had someone to snuggle with,” Edd chimed in.

Sighing, Eddy tried to change the subject, folding his hands into his pockets. “So, how did you survive?”

Edd relayed his time on the broken door. How at first he called out to them, and then was almost drowned by some man. He explained how he balanced on the door, shivering, trying to stay hopeful. And then he went on to hallucinating Ed and Eddy being there with him when the lifeboat came to his rescue.

“... And after that, most of it is a blur. Next thing I knew I woke up in the hospital wing here on the Carpathia with a horrible case of hypothermia. Oh dear, I didn’t mean to worry you two! It’s my fault that we were separated!”

“No, it’s not!” Eddy gritted, his voice on-edge and raspy. “It could’a happened to me or Ed!”

Edd rested a hand on the man's tense shoulder. “Eddy, are you alright?”

“Yeah, never been better!” Eddy’s voice cracked. Finally, Eddy looked at Edd, his mouth trembling. That’s when it all came pouring out. Eddy sobbed, his body shaking. Edd wrapped his arms around Eddy, granting the man to cry into his shoulder. He circled his hand around his back in slow even motions, letting him cry.

It was sad, but it was very reminiscent of all the Titanic survivors mingling around trying to decide what they should do now. At least this was a happy reunion of sorts.

Ed wrapped his arm around both of his friends, crushing them in a hug. It felt nice. Edd felt that warm sense of comradery. His face hurt from smiling so much. He couldn’t help it. Although this journey was a total loss for all aboard, even those who survived, Edd was free.

“The moment we saw your hat wash up near the boat, Eddy jumped in to rescue it! He cried for so long that the tears froze to his face!” Ed went on to explain.

Edd stared at Eddy, his heart breaking at such a painful image. Touching the man’s face, Edd wiped away the remaining tears. Trying to regain his composure, it was tough. Eddy was a natural at keeping his feelings bottled up. That was because he had nobody, or someone taunting him in his past.

Edd kissed his forehead, making his eyes light up. Caressing Eddy’s hands, Edd whispered, “I am so happy you were able to get those miserable cuffs off.”

“Yeah, we were up all night trying to break them off,” Eddy laughed, clearing his ragged throat.

“We thought we were going to have to break off Eddy’s hands!” Ed joined in, wrapping his arms over both Edd and Eddy’s shoulders.

Even though he laughed along with his friends, Edd felt the humongous ache of guilt return to his heart. Eddy almost died because of his own naivety. No, it was Victoria. But, still, Edd conquered his fear and anxiety to save him. There were so many moments where they could have all died, but they didn’t. Because they trusted each other, ignoring the difference in class. That didn’t matter. In fact, it didn’t matter anymore.

Grasping the hands of his love tighter, Edd pulled he and Eddy’s foreheads together. He could feel his warm breath against his face. “Oh Eddy, we can finally be together.”

Just then, Eddy smiled sadly, a mixture of pain and happiness lingering in his eyes. “Double D, you know you’d be better off without the two of us.”

Edd was shocked to hear Eddy say that. Ed was too. “Eddy, what on earth are you talking about? That is untrue!”

“Ed and I have nothin’, Double D! We’re just gonna hold you back!”

Folding his fists together, without any fear, Edd stood tall and mighty. “Eddy, if I learned anything it’s that I can be so much more. And I would never have learned that without you. And now, I have nothing. I lost everything. I have nowhere to go. And as far as my parents are concerned, they believe me to be dead and that is perfectly fine by me! I want to experience the world with you and Ed! Even if it means that the three of us are confined to the streets anything is better than returning to the chains that once held me down! We are the Eds after all.”

“That’s right, Double D!” an excited Ed agreed. He looked at Eddy to encourage him.

Eddy was still quiet, smiling at Edd with this expression that Edd adored. It was nothing like how Victoria used to look at him with a careless look of disdain.

“I actually have somethin’ for yah, Double D,” Eddy announced.

Reaching again into his back pocket, Eddy opened his hand to reveal the blue diamond engagement ring.

Edd’s whole body stiffened, recoiling from the object, feeling as if legs were going to give way and somehow he’d back into Victoria like this was all a dream. He remembered when Victoria slid it around his finger when he was so close to leaving in a lifeboat. It felt like it burned. Even in his hands when he was forced to sit on one knee and proposed to Victoria.

Maybe it will finally set you straight. Those were the exact words of his parents.

“Eddy, how did you...” he still couldn’t find the words to speak. Even’s Ed’s eyes marveled at such a sight.

“It’s fell out ol’ Vicki’s pocket during the fight,” Eddy explained. “So, I picked it up.”

“You stole it,” Edd remarked, feeling his throat tightening. He tried not to look disappointed with Eddy but he couldn’t help it. Eddy was framed because of this ring. And now he actually stole it.

“You said it was worth a lot, so what if we pawned it and...”

All of sudden, Edd ripped the object out of Eddy’s hand and he threw it. He threw the ring with all his strength into the ocean. Grasping the railings, Edd watched it hit the water to make sure that it got its rightful demise. It made a plop noise with it hit the water. And then the ring sunk to the bottom of the ocean until it was out of sight. No more.

“Double D!” Eddy shouted running over to the bars, catching sight of where the ring hit the water. Ed even joined him, still not sure of what to think about the situation.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Eddy screamed.

“We don’t need that!” Edd retorted, still shocked with Eddy.

“What do you mean we don’t need it? We could have found a home, food, or we could’a gotten your money back after Vicki paid for that thing behind your back, right?!”

Edd rested his hand on Eddy’s shoulder. Even with how boiling angry Eddy was with him he didn’t back away from Edd’s touch. There was no way he’d ever abandon Edd again. Not after the night they went through.

“Eddy, don’t you see? We don’t need the ring! The three of us made it off the Titanic alive, didn’t we? No matter what our situations have been we’ve always managed to find a solution. Whether we’re sleeping under bridges or not we can get by. As you said, it’s fun waking up not knowing what is going to happen next. We need to make our lives count and live every day as if it is our last.”

Ed beamed, proudly nodding his head.

As for Eddy, he had calmed down some, staring into Edd’s green eyes. Bringing him closer, wrapping his arms around Edd’s slim frame, they hugged. It was comforting, especially after all the treacherous turmoil.

And then, Eddy parted, straightening Edd’s hat. “Edd, I don’t know what to say to a guy who’s about to jump off the Titanic when it’s not sinking but jumps back on when it is.” They all took a moment to laugh at that remark. “But you are the craziest guy I have ever met!”

“You’re not one to talk!” Edd cooed.

“I thought I was the craziest!” Ed laughed.

Eddy bumped Ed in his arm. “Yeah, you get that award, Ed!”

“I’ve never met anyone with your unique personality, Ed. You are a kind man,” Edd complimented his new friend. He was also looking forward to all the adventures with Ed. They couldn’t leave him out of anything after all. He had a hand in rescuing them and keeping his friends together.

Getting Edd’s attention, Edd rested his hand on Edd’s shoulder. “But if you're willing to stick with us, then what are you waiting for?”

Tears filled Edd’s eyes. Never had he ever felt more relieved to cry. Together the Eds placed their hands on the other's shoulder.

“You jump, I jump,” they all repeated.

“Hey, Ed!” It was May. Ed’s eyes lit up the instant he saw her. Taking two steps, Ed stopped looking back at his friends. Eddy motioned for him to go. And Edd smiled. As soon as Ed was given the okay, he was off like lightning, flying May through the air, and kissed her.

Edd and Eddy looked on at the scene in amusement. Seeing Ed happy made Edd feel all warm inside. Ed found love on the Titanic. As did he.

Gently taking his love’s hand, Eddy squeezed back. There was no lie that they were going to receive harsh criticism for their relationship. A relationship between the same gender didn’t meet the eyes of approval. Then again, Edd had broken so many rules and gone against his parents and Victoria. And now, He’d never have to worry about them ever again.

Edd never felt happier and excited for the future ahead. Of course, he and Eddy would have their hardships but now he was going to live out the rest of his life with the friends he came to know.

“It’s a shame that Victoria ripped up that magnificent drawing of yours,” Edd said to Eddy.

Eddy smirked, listing his eyebrow slyly. “I got a feeling there will be more of those.”

Again, their foreheads touched. Although it was a different setting, the moment still felt reminiscent of when they shared their first kiss on the bow of the Titanic.

“You’re sure I ain’t gonna hold you back?” Eddy asked with a teasing smile.

Edd kissed his nose. “Not a chance.”

Smiling so big, Eddy held him closer. “I love you, Edd.”

A tear fell down his cheek. “I love you, Eddy.”

Kissing never felt so right. As the Carpathia sailed away from the nightmare the Ed's look into the future.

---

The rest of the journey to New York City, unfortunately, didn’t ease any of the Titanic survivor's nerves. A bout of heavy thunderstorms rocked the ship. The horrible noises of thunderbolts frightened the survivors, especially Edd, thinking that they struck yet another iceberg forcing them to go through a second nightmare.

Since the Carpathia was much smaller in size compared to the Titanic, it didn’t have the proper accommodations to fit everyone. The Eds shared a cramped room with other third-class passengers. Due to the lack of beds they had to sleep on the floor. Edd didn’t mind. He had all the comfort he needed with Eddy spooning against him.

It was late, dark, when the Carpathia arrived in New York City on April 18, three days after the Titanic sank to the bottom of the ocean.

Standing out on the deck as it rained, the Eds basked over the Statue of Liberty as they passed by the grand sight.

“There it is, Eddy! The Statue of Liberty! I told you we’d be there before you know it!” Ed basked, hopping up and down like a child.

“The lady of liberty stands so tall! I respect the landmark!” Rolf, the foreign man who Ed and Eddy shared a room with on Titanic, basked.

“Look, Plank, just like you said! We made it!” Jonny marveled, holding up his piece of wood with a smile drawn on it.

Never had the Statue of Liberty ever looked so conquering. Edd and Eddy were holding hands, basking in the glory. There was no need for words. They made it.

“Hey, May, come on! Ma should be waiting for us!” Lee called out to her sister.

Again, Ed and May didn’t want to part. Only this time the situation was nothing like the impending doom that separated them.

“Do you think we’ll see each other again?” May asked, wrapping her arms around the tall man.

Smiling confidently, Ed nodded. “I know we will, bunny. We’re both staying in New York after all.”

They kissed each other until their hands slowly parted, and Ed waved to her until she disappeared with her sisters through the crowd.

Again, Eddy and even Edd squeezed Ed’s shoulder supported his friend no matter what. “You’ll see her again, Ed.”

Walking towards the bow, the Eds leaned against the rails. The city was gigantic, glowing in all its lights. There were so many people at the dockside. It was sad knowing that most of these people weren’t going to have a happy reunion. Reporters were present as well, hoping to get all the information out of the survivors about the events.

“Excuse me?” An officer, with an umbrella in hand, asked. Taking one look at the three his nose turned up at their disheveled clothes. Still, a look of pity resorted in his eyes. “Can I have your names, please?” “Ed Hillis,” Ed responded first.

“I’m Eddy. Eddy McGee.”

Once the officer finished writing, he turned to Edd. Proudly, Edd took Eddy’s hand. “McGee. Eddward McGee. With two d’s.”

The officer wasn't sure how to respond but he moved on with his duties.

Eddy flashed Edd a grin, feeling his heart light up, containing his excitement. “Has a nice ring to it, sockhead.”

“It always has, my turtledove.”

And the Carpathia docked. All the passengers filed off the ship. Finally, they were back on solid ground, in the big city of New York.

“Don’t know about you but I ain't goin’ on another ship for some time,” Eddy joked.

“We still have that letter to write to White Star Line,” Ed reminded him.

Edd smiled, enjoyed Ed and Eddy’s banter. No more frowns.

And now it was the Eds turn to leave the Carpathia. Walking down the gangplank with only the clothes they had on their backs, the Eds didn’t dare look back. Looking ahead, they walked into the future. With no idea where they were heading what mattered was that they were together and would never forget.

Make it count.

#ed edd n eddy #eene #Titanic #Never Let Me Ed #eene fanfiction #EddEddy #EdMay

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seeingisknowing · 4 years

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Hovering Over the Void: Flesh and Spirit in Caravaggio’s Salome Presented with the Head of John the Baptist

‘In his capacity as a missionary, Maurice Leenhardt once suggested to a New Caledonian elder that Christianity had introduced the notion of spirit into Canque thought. ‘’Spirit? Bah!’’ the old man objected: ‘’You didn’t bring us the spirit. We already knew the spirit existed. We have always acted in accord with the spirit. What you’ve brought us is the body.’’’

Marshall Sahlins, ‘What Kinship Is - And Is Not’, 2013

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Perhaps there is something of the opening verses of Genesis in Caravaggio - we begin with formless, empty darkness, over which, just out of sight, hovers the Spirit of God, descending to cast its spotlight over some apogee of human drama; scenes of ecstasy and death, affliction and sensuality, are plucked from the void like sequences from a dream. Nothing is fixed; the same rotating cast of faces appear and reappear on new bodies and in new roles; prostitutes, thieves and gamblers are transformed into Virgin Mothers, apostles and martyred saints; cries of pain and passion, not so different from each other, call out from the precipice of a limitless abyss. One such moment is captured in the artist’s 1610 work, Salome Presented with the Head of John the Baptist; (oil on canvas, 92 x 107 cm, National Gallery, London) the executioner stretches out his arm to offer a disinterested Salome the saint’s severed head, purpling lips agape, held by a knot of hair over her golden platter, which catches the last drops of blood as they drain from his neck. She turns her own head away, her gaze caught by something else just behind us, and over her shoulder looms an old woman, hands clasped tightly in prayer as she contemplates the Baptist’s gruesome end. The piece’s loose handling of paint, and muted, earthy palette, make this a characteristic late Caravaggio, produced during his 1609-10 stay in Naples, in exile from Rome, having murdered love rival Rannucio Tomassoni, living as ‘a fugitive under death sentence [...] in constant fear that he would be forced to return to [...] face justice.’ During the latter years of his life, the artist’s works take on a more morbid tone, with late paintings like David with the Head of Goliath (1610), The Martyrdom of Saint Ursula (1610) and Toothpuller (c. 1609) betraying a profound interest in increasingly more grisly depictions of torture and execution.

Nonetheless, the theme of decapitation seems to be one that Caravaggio takes with him his whole career; it represents a thread that begins with the famous Medusa (1597) and does not find its end until he paints David with the Head of Goliath (1610), months before his untimely death. As Bersani and Dutoit have put it, ‘Caravaggio seems to have found in decapitation a nearly irresistible aesthetic appeal’ - his ‘extreme solution to the human head as a traumatically enigmatic signifier.’ What then, to make of The Head of John the Baptist?

First, the act of beheading signifies the transition from body into relic. To understand this premise, we first have to understand the Christian, and specifically Catholic, faith to which Caravaggio and much of his work belongs as one uniquely interested in corporeality. A faith in which man's relationship to God is not merely understood as a one way system by which what is material, and thus mortal, is granted the possibility of transcendence through eternal life, but equally one in which what would otherwise remain transcendent, and thus out of reach, can take material, and thus mortal, form - ‘The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.’ The relic, whether it be a little fragment of bone, a withered hand, or, as in our case, a severed head, exists at the very crescendo of this exchange between the created and the uncreated - a body from which the soul has long since escaped, while the flesh lives on forever, not just through deliberate preservation, but endless reproduction. Let us note some of the sites that claim possession of the Baptist’s head, or some piece of it - The Umayyad Mosque in Damascus; The Church of San Silvestro in Capite, in Rome; Amiens Cathedral; El Congregados, in Porto; the Residenz Museum, in Munich; as recently as 2010, a number of Bulgarian archeologists claimed to have found the relic amongst the ruins of a monastery on the Black Sea island of Sveti Ivan. Saint John’s executioner has cut off one head, and, like the Lernean Hydra, two (or three, or four, even five for that matter) have grown back in its place - a notion perhaps hinted at in the Eastern iconographic tradition, which often depicts the Baptist holding his own severed head, while another rests atop his shoulders, (see Fig. 1) as if what had been presented to Salome had only been a very convincing decoy. This is how Caravaggio presents the Baptist’s head to us, as a relic, in a scene in which the piety of the old woman, caught in prayer, prefigures that of the pilgrim, and the golden platter prefigures the reliquary. Caravaggio would not be alone in this. A century earlier, Solario had painted again and again images of the Baptist’s head resting in a silver platter (see Fig. 2), unaccompanied either by Salome or the executioner - removed from any context, it becomes unclear, and perhaps unimportant, whether the head is presented as Salome’s grisly trophy, or as a perfectly preserved relic. Similarly, Dries Holthuys oak carving of the Baptist’s head for Xanten Cathedral (see Fig. 3), crowned with its intricately carved brown ringlets, which each unfurl daintily into the ornate platter in which it sits, seem to replicate the morbid glamour of the reliquary rather than the severed head itself. In this way, Caravaggio’s Salome Presented with the Head of John the Baptist, like so many other depictions of this scene, shows us the head not just as a head, but a miracle fixed in flesh and blood and bone - a relic. Bersani and Dutoit approach something close to this, positing that Caravaggio inserts himself into the painting as the executioner, who offers the head to Salome just as he, as the artist, offers the image to us:

‘‘Cutting into and shaping space: was Caravaggio interested in executioners as a mode of self-representation? The executioner’s gesture in Salome [...] is not unlike that of the painter reaching out towards his canvas.’

But perhaps the work goes further than this: Caravaggio identifies himself as the executioner, offering the head first to a dispassionate Salome, dispassionate because she fails to see its significance, and then to us, not as mere image, but as relic: an object that exists as a totem, signifying something beyond itself, and that thus exists beyond physical limits: incorruptible, granting miracles to the faithful, replicating itself at will - from this position, it is not unthinkable that Caravaggio’s image of the Baptist’s severed head becomes something no ‘real’ a relic than any of the various skulls encased in gold that have been scattered so abundantly across Christendom.

A second meaning emerges - Julia Kriseva’s comment in The Severed Head: Capital Visions, that ‘we seem to have the—fantastical?—birth of Homo religiosus and of his socius. Centered around the cult of the severed head’ applies not without some credit to Christianity. The Baptist’s beheading signifies the beginning of something separate from the faith of the Old Testament: there are no Old Testament martyrs - there is no need for them, since in the Old Testament, those in God’s favour reliably triumph in the face of tremendous odds, while the mighty, but faithless, of the Earth are humbled. Interestingly, it is often the motif of decapitation that is employed to make this point, as in the stories of Judith and Holofernes, and David and Goliath. Martyrdom only becomes a possibility in connection with the Cross; a martyr’s death is accounted for because it is avenged by Christ’s victory over death itself, in the face of which, earthly life is rendered ‘a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away’ - a no-stakes game, in which nothing is to be gained or lost except the possibility of resurrection. In this sense, the Baptist’s severed head, as a sort of prologue to the Cross, demanding a retribution that will be found in Christ’s resurrection, signifies the dawn of Christianity; and the more total his death is, the more total his apotheosis. This is the lesson of the cold, unflinching realism of Caravaggio’s painting, which lays bare the whole Christian economy of suffering. Somewhere back in primordial darkness from which Caravaggio’s figures reach out to us takes place a monumental exchange, by which the most abject violence is transformed into the most flawless spiritual triumph, flawless because the jaws of defeat from which victory is snatched are monstrously real, so recognizably human; bodies are set aglow in the light of this invisible miracle, the light of the Spirit of God that hovers over the void.

To conclude: in Caravaggio’s 1610 Salome we find revealed the whole internal logic of Christianity - the logic that governs the delicate relationships between flesh and spirit, between death and resurrection, between victory and defeat, between the Old and New Testaments, between the created and the uncreated. The Baptist’s severed head becomes a sort of lodestone, the nexus of a vast constellation of points, mapped out against the empty darkness that falls over the greater part of the painting, reminding us that if we were to pull aside this heavy black curtain even an inch, we might unveil the real inner workings of Heaven.

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lamptracker · 6 years

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FIC: Golden Dreams (Tom Holland/Reader; Olympic!AU)

So this came out of my failed attempt at an Olympics AU night, lol. A lovely anon suggested this. I kinda love it. I also kinda changed the original idea slightly, from figure skating to ice dancing (honestly I blame Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir for this)

FIC: Golden Dreams

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: You and your ice dancing partner, Tom Holland, are training for the Olympics. You’d never seen him as more than a teammate...until recently.

Ever since you could remember, you wanted to go to the Olympics.

Your favorite event was always the figure skating, especially ice dancing. You always thought they looked so pretty, gliding effortlessly across the ice in beautiful, sparkly costumes.

So when you were four, your mom signed you up for lessons.

When you were five, you entered your first competition. At that competition, you met a little boy named Tom Holland. He was the cutest thing you’d ever seen - big brown eyes, curly mop of auburn hair.

He was also super sweet and the most energetic boy you’d ever met. But he was crazy talented, as were you. You’d placed first in the girls’ junior division; he’d placed first in the boys. You didn’t really keep in touch with him after that, but you did see him at competitions.

Eight years later, your coach suggested ice dancing - you’d always been a little weak on your axels. He knew the perfect partner for you: Tom Holland.

And he was the perfect partner. He was always polite and sweet, always in tune with what you wanted or needed. He was always super careful not to touch you in any inappropriate way during your lifts. You had amazing chemistry on the ice, and it showed in your routines.

You had become really good friends off the ice, too. It wasn’t unusual for you to be at his house after practices; you were basically the fifth Holland child.

Despite what your performances on the ice showed, you were in no way interested in falling in love with him.

Until the Olympic qualifying competition.

About a week before the competition, you were hanging out at the Holland house (as you were wont to do). Tom was out getting food for everyone so you were embroiled in a fierce Mario Kart competition with Harry and Sam.

“I gotta ask you, (Y/n),” Harry said. “Have you and Tom ever thought about dating?”

You scoffed as you drove your character (Yoshi, you were always Yoshi) around the track. “Not even a little bit. We’re good friends, and we’re teammates. Nothing more.”

“Sounds like you’ve gotten that question before,” Sam teased.

“I only get it in every post-meet interview. He always gets the questions about training and all the work we put in and I always get, ‘Ooh, are you dating?!’ It gets a little old.”

“I can see that.” Harry cursed silently to himself as he slipped off the track. “It’s just, you guys have such amazing chemistry on the ice. And you have this really cool relationship off the ice.”

“Yeah,” Sam added, “and I’ve noticed that neither one of you has had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months. Why’d your last boyfriend break up with you?”

“My last three dumped me because they were jealous of my relationship with Tom. The last one especially was like, ‘You two are too flirty on the ice.’ Well, yes. It’s part of my job, okay? We’re telling a story and we have to sell it.” You let out a little whoop. “First place, boys, that’s how it’s done.”

“Race isn’t over yet, stop gloating,” Harry said. “But have you ever thought about it?”

“I told you, Harry, I haven’t. Unless… wait, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Nope. Just curious is all.”

“Well, i’ve told you. Tom is my friend, and he’s my teammate, and that’s all there is to.. .oh, son of a bitch! Who threw that blue shell? I will cut you.”

“Told you not to gloat.” Harry grinned cheekily at you.

“You cocky bastard, I was winning, you know! I will not hesitate to end you.”

“Harry!” Tom exclaimed, walking in with bags of food. “She’s all riled up now. What’d you do, throw a blue shell?”

Harry just laughed as you threw a pillow at him.

“Help!” he cried. “I’m being attacked!”

“No, you’re being an ass,” you retorted, as Sam and Tom cracked up laughing.

The two of you skated flawlessly at the Olympic qualifying meet. Your short program was perfect - earning you the highest marks all season - but you bobbled a twizzle in the free skate. You were sure it was going to cost you your shot at the Olympics.

“Oh, darling. You were amazing out there,” Tom reassured you as you waited for your scores in the Kiss and Cry area.

“No, I wasn’t!” you argued. “Did you see my feet? I totally bobbled the footwork on that first twizzle pass! I looked like I was out there for the first time! We’re going to get docked so badly for this, I just know it.” You rested your head in your hands, sighing deeply. “And now we’re not going to make it to PyeongChang, and it’ll be all my fault, and…”

“Easy, now.” Tom wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “We’re going to make it, you know. Our short program was the best it’s been all year. You really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, you’re a better skater than you give yourself credit for. And I...oh, they’re going to announce the scores now.”

You peeked at the scoreboard through your fingers. Despite the fact that you totally messed up the first pass, you were only deducted a tenth of a point. Your free skate put you at the top of the country’s leaderboard.

“We did...we did it!” you shouted. “We’re going to the Olympics!”

“I told you, darling!” Tom excitedly pulled you into an embrace as your coaches celebrated around you.

This hug was not like your normal hugs - quick, gentle squeezes. This was different.

Tom had a tight grip on you, as if he were afraid that you’d blow away if he let you go. His nose was buried in your hair. You could smell his cologne, and you could feel his rapidly beating heart.

Probably just excited, you thought to yourself. But then you thought back to the conversation you’d had with Harry a week prior.

Could...could Tom really be in love with you?

What’s more...could you really be in love with him?

Damn you, Harry, you thought to yourself.

But you didn’t really have time to ponder it; you were officially an Olympic athlete.

You were in Korea, and you were living your best life.

The Olympics were, so far, a lot of fun. You were having a great time getting to know the athletes from the other countries. (Adam Rippon was your favorite, but then again he was everyone’s favorite. But he was sweet, and funny, and immediately started following you on Instagram and leaving vaguely inappropriate comments on your pictures. And asked you if you had a brother.) It was fun trying local Korean cuisine. Going to see some of the other sports was interesting. (Tom pulled some strings to get you into the curling mixed doubles final; you had no clue what was going on but you were having a good time anyway.)

So far, the highlight was the Opening Ceremony. As you walked in behind the flag bearer, you started to feel a little nervous. Sure, you’d skated in front of big crowds before. But this crowd was nothing like you’d ever seen. What felt like a million people were in the stadium, and every single one of their eyes were on you.

Sensing your anxiety, Tom reached over and gently grasped your hand. “Feeling alright?” he asked.

“Just a little nervous. There are so many people here.”

“They’re not all here to see you, y’know.”

You scoffed loudly. “Gee, thanks for the pep talk there, Dr. Phil.”

“Hey, gotta bring you back down to Earth somehow.” Tom laughed as the two of you walked into the stadium with the rest of your teammates. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, you know. So just relax and enjoy it, eh?”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Always am, darling.”

You just giggled as you smiled and waved to the crowd. Tom held your hand the entire ceremony.

Practices were going well, so far. This was the first year that music with words was allowed in Olympic competition, so for your free dance you had chosen “All of the Stars” by Ed Sheeran. You had to play the part of long-distance lovers.

And boy, was Tom ever good at it.

The way he stared after you longingly when you were apart on the ice, as though he truly wanted to be with you. The way his hand lingered on your hip a touch longer than it was supposed to, as if he didn’t want to let you go. How he held you close to him during lifts, how he gripped you protectively before he had to throw you. And how he beamed at you when you nailed the landing.

“Girl,” Adam Rippon (who’d crashed practice to heckle the Shibutani siblings) said to you. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s really in love with you.”

“Whatever, Adam.” You rolled your eyes. “And I know what your next question is, and no, you cannot meet my brother. Not that I wouldn’t love it, but you’re bugging me today so it’s not happening.”

“Ooh. You cold,” Adam pouted, as you laughed.

But, you thought as you skated off to the sidelines. Was he? Could that explain the lingering touches, the longing looks?

You shook your head. It’s all part of the act.

And what’s more, why did you care so much? Why were you noticing the way he looked at you? The way you didn’t want his hand to leave your hip? Why didn’t you want his hand to leave your hip?

You groaned as you slipped the blade covers over your skates.

“I have got to lay off the hotteok,” you mumbled to yourself.

Finally, it was the night of the free skate finals. You and Tom were in first place after the short program. You were in the last group of skaters; of the 24 total couples skating, you were 23rd.

“How’re you feeling, darling?” Tom asked. “Nervous?”

“A little,” you admitted. “Remember I fucked up the opening twizzle sequence at qualifying. I’m just scared I’ll do it again.”

Tom reached over and grasped your hand. “Nah. You’ll get it. You’ve been getting it in practice, so you’ll get it in competition for sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Practice makes perfect, I hope. I just have to nail this hot move is all.”

Tom snorted. “That’s what she said.”

You smacked his shoulder. “Shut up, you div. We’re about to go on.” You took a deep breath.

“Ready?”

“Pep talk first.”

“Okay.” Tom leaned his forehead against yours. “Go out there.”

“Skate until the ice melts.”

“Kick ass.”

“Then kick more ass, because we ain’t got time to take names.”

Tom smiled brightly at you. “That’s my girl. Now, let’s go do this.”

Whatever worries you had before the free skate, you needn’t have entertained. You performed your routine flawlessly. That twizzle sequence you were so worried about? Went perfectly.

As the routine ended, the crowd roared and burst into applause. You bowed for the judges, then Tom threw his arms around you.

“Darling, that was brilliant!” he exclaimed, picking you up and twirling you.

You giggled as he spun you. “We’re going to medal for sure now!” You both waved to the crowd as you skated to the rink exit, hand-in-hand. You made your way to the Kiss and Cry area, hugging your coaches. You both slipped on your blade covers and you slid on your team jacket as Tom sat down with the coaches to receive your scores.

“Here you go, darling,” he said. “Made a spot for you.”

You sat down next to him and nervously grasped his hand as you awaited your marks.

The crowd erupted again as the scores were revealed. You’d earned a career best for your free skate, and were currently in first place.

“Oh my God, Tom,” you said breathlessly. “We’re in first place!”

“Yeah!” Tom punched the air excitedly. “There’s still one more couple to go, though.”

“I hope they fall,” you muttered to yourself; Tom cracked up laughing.

“Darling, you don’t mean that!” he wheezed between giggles. “But I kinda do too.”

Well, they didn’t fall. They also skated well. Tom and your coach were pointing out all of their technical inconsistencies, but you were just too nervous to think of anything other than how you were going to end up placing.

You and Tom stood, frozen in place, as you waited for their marks.

“I can’t look, Tom,” you said nervously as you buried your head into his shoulder and a hush fell over the crowd. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, darling. They didn’t skate nearly as well as we did. Now look up, they’re about to post.”

The scores flashed on the screen…

...and the last couple? Ended up in fourth place overall.

“WE DID IT!” You shouted excitedly. “We won! We won the gold medal! This is the greatest day of my life!” You threw your arms around Tom; he returned the embrace, gripping you tighter than you thought was humanly possible.

“I can’t believe it!” he said. “We’ve done it!”

Tears of joy rolled down your cheeks as you held onto Tom for dear life. “I just… all that hard work we put in, and it’s paid off.”

Tom pulled away to look at you, his own face wet with tears.

And then, before you could fully process what was happening, his lips were on yours.

You know how, when people have their first kiss, it usually starts out slow and tentative, while the two parties involved get to know each others’ mouths?

This was not that kind of kiss.

This was also not a kiss that said, “You just helped me win a gold medal and I’m so excited right now.”

This kiss said, “You just helped me win a gold medal and I’m so excited right now. Also, I’m madly in love with you and I’m desperately hoping you feel the same way.”

It was deep, passionate, like nothing you’d ever experienced before. His hands gripped the back of your head as yours made their way to his auburn curls, tangling in the strands. It had the potential to knock the wind completely out of you.

When the two of you finally parted, you looked at each other, mouths slightly agape, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

Tom broke the silence.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I…”

You reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Tom, are you in love with me? Please be honest.”

He nodded wordlessly, looking absolutely terrified.

You smiled softly at him. “I’m in love with you too,” you admitted. “Fairly recent development; I blame Harry, honestly. But… yeah. I am.”

His face softened into a wide smile. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered as he leaned in to kiss you once again. This one was more gentle than your first; this one said, “I love you so much. I’m so glad you love me too.”

“See? I knew it!” Adam Rippon shouted as he ran by you to congratulate the Shibutanis on their bronze medal. “Oh, and congratulations!”

You just laughed as Tom wrapped an arm around your waist. “They’re going to start the medals ceremony soon. We should get down there.”

“Yeah.”

And so, you received your gold medal, with the man you loved at your side. This truly was the greatest day of your life.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #olympics!AU

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