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bandaigaeru · 5 years ago

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19 - han jisung

synopsis: when you turn nineteen, the first words your soulmate says to you appear on your wrist. you all know that tiktok trend. word count: 6.8k

You gawk at the blank canvas of your wrist. Soon, words would fill the skin and thus seal your fate.

It's common folklore that in the early ages, two Greek Gods by the names of Aphrodite and Ares were sent to Earth. They traveled the land until they came across two mortals. An old married couple living on a farm just outside of today's Patras. Aphrodite was known for enticing people into conversations with her beauty. Over time, the topic drifted to the pair's longlasting marriage as Aphrodite airily asked, "How did you know you were meant to be?"

The elderly duo shared a look attended by small smiles. The man spoke, "We don't truly know, but the feelings in our hearts lead us to believe we are."

Aphrodite was shocked. Something as pure and sacred as love was being tossed around by the mortal world. So, she looked at her husband and ordered him to contact his parents (who were widely seen as the monarchs of the Olympians). After a long argument, Ares managed to pull through. He had convinced his mother, Hera, to pull some strings. From that moment forward, mortals' wrists would be tainted with the first words that their loved ones say to them, but only after the mortal reaches the legal age.

However, this deal would only happen under one condition. Wars and violence would become common among the mortals to counteract the joy that comes with easily finding a lover. Ares took this feat with joy. He made his wife happy while simultaneously becoming the god of war.

Or at least that's what we think happened.

"Y/N? You in there?" the boy across the table waves a hand in front of your face.

Glancing up, you offer a meek smile. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Are you thinking about the words again?" he asks, leaning forward.

He rests his forearms against the cafe's table for a moment before reaching out for your hands. For a moment he just holds them. But then he brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles. In a low voice, he states assertively, "We're in this for the long haul, babe. It's you and I 'til the end. Remember?"

You smile, butterflies clashing against the caves of your stomach. "Of course. Y/N and Hyunjin until the very end."

You retract your hands to bring the straw to your lips. The boy ahead of you simply watches your motions with heart eyes. When he had turned nineteen, he refused to look at the words. He wanted to wait for you. And now, a little less than two weeks separate you from the ultimate conclusion. Even though he was confident you were the one, thoughts at the back of your mind nag the dreaded possibility.

You look over to the road beside the cafe. Through the window, a teenage girl walks her small dog. Beyond that, a traffic jam sheathes the road with cars.

"Hey, um, Changbin and I were thinking about throwing a party for your birthday. Are you up for that?" Hyunjin slips his phone out of his pocket.

As he's unlocking it, you reply, "Yeah that sounds fun. Who all are you going to invite?"

"The boys and whichever friends you want me to," he pushes his phone towards you. It's displaying an empty note page. He continues, "Just put whoever you want."

You adjust the device in your palms before typing out the list of friends you wanted to celebrate with. Kijeong never fails to serve for a good party. Doyoung has connections to getting expensive alcohol. Momo always brings Japanese candies. And so on.

When you slide the phone across the matte tablecloth, Hyunjin marvels at the list. "How do you know this many people?"

"There's only like ten people," you giggle. Then, you tap your finger on your chin and ask, "Don't you know over a hundred?"

As if you had hit a soft spot, he winces back dramatically. "No! It's more like eighty-nine."

A giggle bubbles up from your core and you feel at peace. For once, you weren't stressing over those stupid words. Hyunjin has that effect on you. He could probably distract you from WWIII if it ever happened. And for that, he has to be your soulmate. He just has to.

ii.

Hyunjin had gone out of town on a school trip, leaving you in Seoul with nothing to do but sit around and read heartfelt testimonies of others' first words. One had mentioned that the couple had been dating for barely a week before the words appeared. And then, when they found out that they were dating their soulmate, they got married spontaneously in Las Vegas. Like from a rom-com.

You wanted to be the main character of a rom-com too.

A knock sounded from the other side of your door. Quickly closing the tab and opening your homework, you shout, "Come in!"

Your mother peaks her head in with a drastic bright smile. "Hey there, sweet thang."

"Hi, mom," you chuckle at her goofiness. She enters the room with your dog, Fluffy, trailing close behind.

"I just came in here to talk about the whole nineteen shebang," she sighs, folding her leg under her as she takes a seat at the foot of your bed.

You sit up, adjusting your pillow behind your back. Her smile fades as she begins, slightly hesitant, "Do you have a plan for if it's not Hyunjin?"

"What?" your eyebrows twist. You pick at the corner of your laptop with your nails.

"I'm not saying that he won't be, but have you considered all the outcomes?"

"No, but I don't have to. I know it's him," you shake your head. And suddenly, the doubts come flooding in again. A lot of the stories you've read show a common denominator. A couple that has been dating for a while becoming heartbroken when they've realized what they felt wasn't true love.

Your mother presses her lips into a fine line before glancing down at Fluffy for reassurance. He stares up at her with a smile, tongue hanging from his mouth carelessly. As she releases a heavy breath that seemed to weigh down the rest of the room, she announces, "Whatever happens, just know me and your dad will always be here for you. We love you, Y/N."

Tears begin to pool in your eyes. Stumbling over your words you manage to push out, "I-I love you too, Mom."

Patting the bed, she pushes herself up. "Then I'll leave you to it. Do you want me to take Fluffy?"

You shake your head, "No, leave him here."

She gently sets the Pomsky on your bed. You open your arms to the dog and he barrels towards you. Your mother closes the door on the way out, leaving you alone with the heartbreaking thoughts and a dog to cry into.

Fresh tears fall onto the dog's fur and he curiously looks up at you. He cocks his head to the side and whimpers. In an attempt to stop the mysterious liquid, he licks at your cheeks.

"Fluffy," you sob with an unstable voice as you hug him tightly. "what am I gonna do?"

Outside the door, your mother stands. A hand is covering her mouth to muffle the cries of her own. The buildup of your childhood is reaching a standstill in a week's time. You would be free to make your own decisions and what would your mother have left to do? It was time for you to leave her shelter.

Quivering, your mother lets her hand fall to her side. She has to be strong for you right now. One of your biggest moments is approaching. Sadness cannot deter her support. Although tears are still slipping from her eyes, she straightens her posture and advances down the hall.

iii.

Kijeong sits at your mirror with a glow in her eyes. It had been months since she had gone to a good, unforgettable party. The goosebumps trailing down her legs are a sign it's going to be good, she claims.

But you think it's because your dad cranked the AC up.

"Wear the skirt and the sweater," Kijeong advises. She brings her Starbucks to her mouth, contorting her lips in a funky way so that she doesn't ruin her red lipstick.

You glance down at the outfit she had chosen. It's a fuzzy lavender sweater and a high-waisted black skirt.

"It's cold outside," you protest, looking back at her.

She looks at you as if you've dethroned Beyonce and put Kanye in her place. "Is the party outside? No. Put the outfit on. We're gonna be late."

"Fine, dear party master," you mumble.

You retreat to the bathroom to change. As you're tugging the sweater over your body, you look in the mirror. Huffing, you stomp back to your room. "I look like a psycho Furby that just escaped the asylum."

Kijeong rolls her eyes as she stands from the comfort cave of your bed. She advances to you, tucking your sweater in. "Now you look like a Furby hooker who I'd gladly fuck given the chance."

"My legs feel naked," you cross your legs and ball your fists to hold the skirt down.

"Then put on some fishnets," Kijeong rummages through your closet. She huffs, blindly sweeping her hand on the overhead shelf. Humming in content, she tosses the leggings at you.

You can't win with the party girl.

Barely ten minutes later, you're stepping out of your house with your mother hanging in the door frame. "Be careful. Text me as soon as you find out!"

"Of course," you shout back at her reassuringly as you're climbing into the passenger seat of Kijeong's black Toyota Corolla.

Upon startup, the radio is blaring rap music in a language you're unfamiliar with. She bumps her head to the beat as she pulls onto the road. You stare down at the wallpaper of your phone. It's a photo of you and Hyunjin on your first date to the movie theaters. His head is on your shoulder and his hand is squeezing your cheeks. He looks up at you with those loving eyes and a simper.

Rolling down the volume, Kijeong glances over at you. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek before saying, "I know this is stressful for you, but just live through tonight as if we were partying under normal circumstances. It sounds like shitty advice, but trust me."

Though your shoulders are still weighed down with stress, you smile. "Thanks, Ki."

"I'll stick around you for the whole night if you need me to. And that's saying a lot. Doyoung's bringing wine from the Iberian peninsula and I want that shit," she lightens the mood.

You stifle a laugh. "I can handle it. You go drink that expensive shit."

Kijeong maintains the glimmer of a smile on her lips until she pulls up to Changbin's house. It wasn't necessarily a mansion, Changbin always claimed. In the flesh, however, the truth unveiled a different story.

"Holy shit," you marvel, looking up at the intricately carved pillars.

At the front door, Hyunjin is there to welcome you. He holds a red solo cup as he's welcoming you with a hug. When you finally pull away, he offers it to you.

"What is it?" you inquire.

"Some kind of fancy wine Doyoung brought," he informs, peeking into the cup as if to examine the dark liquid.

Kijeong snatches it from his hand. She downs it before either of you can react.

"That's good shit," she coughs, "Where's Doyoung?" Her eyes are wide, like a crazed killer feeling the first euphoria of killing.

Still taken aback, Hyunjin slowly gestures over his shoulder. "He's in the ki-"

But it's too late. She's already on the hunt.

Shaking his head in utter awe, he refocuses back to you. "So, how does it feel?"

You coerce a somewhat genuine smile to rest on your lips as you say, "I'm not sure. I guess I'm just feeling nostalgic?"

Hyunjin nods along to your carefully chosen words. To make you feel better, he leans to your ear and whispers, "That's the thrill of becoming an adult, darling."

One of Hyunjin's friends (Seungmin, you think his name was) lunges into Hyunjin, knocking him back from you. "Bro, Jeongin's about to do a fucking keg stand. You've got to see this," he shouts, guiding Hyunjin to the backyard.

Over his shoulder, Hyunjin yells, "Duty calls."

You slowly walk around, taking in the monumental views of parties. People making out on the couch. A girl twerking on the wall. And even someone puking behind the couch.

The humidity of the living room suffocates you. And despite the sea of people wading in your personal space, you have never felt so lonely. The promise ring Hyunjin had bought you strangles your finger almost as much as it was mentally suffocating you.

Your breaths become ragged as people block your view on every side. Desperately, you push through. Beads of sweat congregate in the threads of your fishnets.

A flash of fresh air slaps you across the face as you finally break through. Ahead of you, the back door is ajar. You can spot Hyunjin cheering on a group of people playing cup pong. That Jeongin kid must've finished his keg stand. Or chickened out. He catches your stare. He sends a smile before leaning in to the game to say something. And then, he's walking towards you.

No. You can't face him right now.

Quickly, you fade into the hallway. Glancing into the cracks of each door, you eventually find solace in the bathroom. You lock the door behind you before rushing to the toilet. The anxiety caught up with you and your lunch is now sitting in the toilet. Splashes of yellow cling to the bowl as you flush.

Still shaking, you approach the sink. You rinse the suds off of your hands before splashing your face with the cool water. Rejuvenated, you dry off your hands. Droplets of water fall from your face. You pull your sweater up, using the hairy fabric to lessen the moisture.

Though fresh, you still can't build the courage to reemerge into the pool of bodies.

You glance down at your phone. 11:19. Only forty-one minutes separate you.

You could camp in the bathroom until then. It's a safe haven.

For the remaining time, you sit by the toilet just in case. When there's only one minute left, you roll up your sleeve and stare at the empty skin.

As the clock strikes midnight, your wrist aches. You wince, gazing down. Beneath your skin, what feels like fire ants work together to ink the words letter by letter.

Your heart hangs in your throat. The world stops spinning and you're just sitting there, staring at your arm. The door shakes as someone knocks from the other side.

"Y/N? You in there?" Hyunjin's voice sounds through, though muffled.

So this is what those testimonials meant when they said you undergo an out of body experience. It doesn't feel like you're in control when you slowly rise and go to the door. You open it, still gawking at the words.

"Happy birthday! What does it say?" Hyunjin reaches for your arm with a bright, hopeful smile.

It vanishes when he reads the words. His voice cracks as he reads them aloud, "Brighten the mood, sunshine?"

"I-I'm sorry," you sob, snagging your arm back to bury your face in your hands.

Through teary eyes of his own, Hyunjin shakes his head. "No. Y/N, we love each other." He reaches for your shoulders, but you step back, arms dropping to your sides.

"We're not each others' soulmates," you look up at him.

"They're wrong! They have to be!" he shouts.

You know what's going on in that head of his. There was no use arguing with him.

You slide the ring off of your finger. Slowly, you inch forward to him. You grab his hand, resting the ring in his palm. Then, you curl his fingers up, protecting the ring from the evils of the world.

"I'm sorry."

iv.

You tug your knees to your chest. The empty car isolates you from the flashing lights and booming music from inside the party. All you can seem to do is cry. When the tears let up, you glance down at your wrist and they appear again, stronger than before.

Something comforting rested in those words, though.

A hollow knock from your right trains your focus away. Outside the window, a few boys hover.

"We're Hyunjin's friends," the taller of the bunch shouts, though it reaches you muffled. Standing there is a boy you had crossed paths with a multitude of times before. Seungmin, his name was. From earlier.

You inch away from them quickly. You're practically sitting on the middle console.

"Wait, we're not gonna hurt you. We just want to talk. Jin's taking it pretty hard, and I was sure-" Seungmin reassures, though is interrupted by an elbow to the ribs.

"We were sure," a shorter boy corrects. His face looked familiar, though the strange depth of his voice proved otherwise.

"Right, we were sure you were feeling in the dumps too. Can you open the door so I don't have to keep yelling?" Seungmin offers a small smile as he mends to his ribs with rubbing circles.

Hesitantly, you unlock the door and weakly step out. Your knees almost buckle beneath your weight, but you lean against the car for support.

"So," a different boy speaks with a slight slur, "I'm Jeongin."

"Felix," the boy with the deep voice introduces with a small wave.

Seungmin leans against the car with you. The soles of his feet ache from standing around and rushing people to not disrobe in the living room. Glancing down at his shoes, Seungmin asks with a pitch in his voice, "So, uh, what does it say?"

"Brighten the mood, sunshine," you recite with clarity, though you're choking on tears at the back of your throat. Or puke. You're not quite sure.

"Y'know who would say that?" Jeongin drunkenly laughs, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Not the time-"

"Jisung would say that shit," he declares, despite Felix's warning glare.

Wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder, Seungmin whispers, "I'm sorry about him, this was his first party and he got a little carried away with the drinking."

You shake your head. Seungmin's cologne reminds you of Hyunjin's. Soft but masculine. Woodsy, almost. "It's fine."

"Happy birthday, by the way," he says.

You chuckle for a second. "Happy?"

"I'm not too good with this whole heartbreak thing, but I know this whole thing will blow over. It'll hurt, but in the terms of the universe, this heartbreak is setting you up for finding your soulmate," Felix says.

"The universe is bullshit," you scoff.

"Brighten the mood, sunshine," a boy calls out from the gate of the house. His arms are crossed against his chest and he's onlooking the scene with narrowed eyes.

Your heart is doing a frenzy within the cage of your chest. Playing it off as if you and the boys around you don't know what just happened, you warily shout back, "Suck my dick, mister sunshine."

He jumps back, his own heart caught in his throat. His arms fall to the side and he stares. Mouth fallen agape, he slowly lifts a finger and points at you.

He lets it drop, a smile filled with bewilderment filling his lips. "Hyunjin's gonna kill me."

His name is Jisung and he had been indebted with running to Hyunjin's car to get something when he overheard your conversation. He knew you had no control over it, but he just wanted to be petty for the sake of sparking drama. It was a bad habit, he admitted later on in an apology email he had sent to your student account.

It's been a week since your birthday. Passing Hyunjin in the hallway never takes an off day to open the pit in your stomach. But the butterflies had disappeared the moment you met Jisung. And you fucking hated it. The memories with Hyunjin were too fond for you to succumb to falling in love with Jisung.

"Hey, Y/N," he skips next to you on your way to your final class of the day.

"What do you want?" you stop by your locker. You twist and turn until the lock unlatches.

As you're shoving your books in, he presses his shoulder to the locker beside you and leans close to you. "Am I not allowed to talk to my one and only?"

"Not here, okay?" you huff, slamming your locker shut. You poise your strut with confidence despite the jelly of your legs.

"Can I at least get your number?" he jogs to catch up with you.

"Only if you can convince Hyunjin to talk to me," you abruptly stop.

"What? Why?"

Above, the bell screeches its monotonous tune.

Nibbling on your lip nervously, you say, "Because I don't want him to hear about it around school or something."

"Why can't I just talk to him?" Jisung asks, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Sighing, you mumble, "I don't wanna ruin your friendship with him."

Jisung's hearty laugh echoes in the empty hall. He grabs your hands, slightly swinging them as he declares, "We'll do it together."

"Go to class," an elderly teacher croaks from the doorway of her empty classroom.

"Meet me after school by the cafeteria," he nods before pressing a surprisingly warm kiss to your forehead.

You sit in eighth period with a permanent smile. Rather than participating in the sociology project, you stare at your palms. They still had his warmth.

Love had a peculiar way of operating. And maybe Jisung wasn't so bad.

"Good day?" Kijeong inquires, her gaze not slipping from her laptop.

You press your palms to the desk as if they held a secret only you could know. As your sight falls over to her, your face burns with heat.

She glances over. Seeing the lovestruck grin sitting confidently on your lips, she gasps. "You didn't-"

"I found him," you shrug casually as if fate had only given you $10 on a scratch-off ticket.

"When?" she grabs your shoulders, shaking you violently.

"Last week. At the party," you cup your head as you prop your arm on the desk.

"And you didn't tell me? Who is he?" her questions fly at you with high velocity and her volume grabs the attention of the people in front of you. They congratulate you with broad smiles before redirecting their focus.

You lean over to her, braving for her bullying spree as you whisper, "Han Jisung."

"The squirrel looking dude? Wait, isn't he friends with Hyunjin?"

Smile slipping from your features, you nod. "We're gonna talk to him today. I still feel so bad."

"Don't be. He's entitled to his feelings and you're entitled to yours. He can be hurt, but he'll have no right to hate you and Jisung for it. And if he does, it'll only be momentarily," Kijeong says, her voice trailing into one similar to her mother's. Wise and pristine.

The stability and confidence in her words spark those own feelings within you. You straighten your posture as you assert, "Yeah. You're right."

vi.

Waiting alone in the cafeteria serves for awkward conversations sparked by the lunch ladies and dirty glares from Hyunjin's fangirls. The whispers fail to bother you as Jisung approaches you with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The butt of his baseball bat peeks out from the zipper.

"Ready?" he breathily says, securing the bag with a tight grip.

"Yeah," you nod, following him as he leads you through the hallways. The walls were painted by the first class. Murals, the principal had announced at freshman orientation. They tell stories, but they usually go overlooked.

As you emerge into the empty half of the parking lot, Jisung reaches back for your hand.

"Where are we going?" you ask to deter your focus from the comfort of his touch.

A glimmer of something that ignites butterflies in your stomach flashes in his eyes as he glances at you over his shoulder. "Going to meet Hyunjin."

Up ahead, you see Hyunjin sitting anticipatingly in his car. His elbow is propped on the door, holding his head as he stares down at his phone. You watch from a distance as he brings the pad of his thumb to rub bits of dry skin flaking from his lip.

You wiggle your hand out of his grip. He stops, turning around to look at you. "I don't wanna hurt him like that," you admit.

"Like what?"

"Like this," you say, motioning to the both of you.

"Oh. Right," Jisung smiles meekly, swiveling around to pursue the upcoming conflict.

You can do this, Y/N. You have to. 'Cos if you don't, it'll hurt him more.

"Hey, bro," Jisung claps against the top of the car.

Jumping, Hyunjin looks up. His eyes are puffy and the bags under his eyes are darker than usual. His hair is in disarray and tousled lazily.

"Oh," he glances between you two. He lets his arm fall to rest against the door. "Hi."

"Hi," you swallow your pride for a moment. Offering a smile, your posture straightens tensely.

"So," Jisung begins, resting a sneaky hand on the small of your back to push you.

Maybe that's why he was your soulmate. He encourages you to fight your own battles. At least, that's what he's doing now.

"Um, I found my soulmate," you nod along as you spoke shakily.

"Oh, really?" Hyunjin forces a smile. "That's good. Who is it?"

You stumble over your words, glancing at Jisung for guidance.

Catching the hint, Hyunjin chuckles. "Nuh-uh. You're lying."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out by someone around the school. You know how rumors spread," you tell him abruptly. Your lips fall agape, exhaling heavy breaths that encourage your body to tremble nervously.

Taken aback, Hyunjin glances down at his lap. He gnaws on his lip. "I'm not gonna lie, it kinda hurts, but I'm happy for you two."

He pauses for a moment, looking back up between you two. The awkward silence is lifted as he laughs. Tutting, he adds, "You two do look good together. I only ask of one thing, though."

"What?" Jisung asks quickly as if he's been on the edge of his seat to talk. You glance at him. His fists are balled by his side and, he too, is shaking.

"I gotta be the best man," Hyunjin points at Jisung, eyes wide with seriousness. Not even a sprinkle of a chuckle clings to his words.

"As if you weren't going to be the best man anyway," Jisung scoffs.

"Wait, if you two are so close, why did you never talk about him?" you propose the question, looking amusingly at Hyunjin.

Jisung jumps back, overdramatically falling to the asphalt and clutching the heart of his tee.

"Look, Jisung's a ladies' man. Even if you can't quite tell right now," Hyunjin shouts over Jisung's fake cries of pain.

You look down at the boy screaming on the ground and shake your head. Yelling up to the clouds, you inquire, "Are you guys sure this is my soulmate?"

"I can't believe you even have to ask that," Jisung finally sits up, gazing up at you with puppy eyes.

"Don't you have baseball practice to get to?" Hyunjin points out, glancing at his radio clock. The time was ticking close to half an hour after three.

"Oh shit, yeah. Seungmin's gonna beat my ass," Jisung jumps to his feet. He nods to you before jogging to the field.

"I'll drive you home, Y/N," Hyunjin offers. Then, the doors of his sedan click.

Oh. That's weird.

"Text me when you get home," Jisung turns around to point at you.

"Don't break anything!" you call out to him.

"No promises," Jisung shouts back.

You dip yourself into the passenger seat of Hyunjin's car. The ride is eerily silent until you ask, "Are you sure you're not mad?"

"Why would I be? Fate brought us here and there's nothing we can do about it," he shrugs, eyes focused on the road. He doesn't glance at you like he normally does when he's driving you around.

Additionally, he says, "I just hope I find my soulmate soon."

"What're your words?"

"Word, actually. It's just 'hi.'"

"That's ambiguous," you state, looking out the window at the buildings whizzing by.

"I kinda like it though. It'll force me to treat every person like my soulmate," Hyunjin remarks, drumming against his steering wheel.

"You say that as if you aren't the nicest person to walk the face of the earth. D'you wanna know what my first words were to Jisung?" you look back to him. A smile is lingering on your lips.

It feels like old times. Before the whole romance thing, you and Hyunjin were actually good friends. Inseparable, even.

"I'm sure they were fine and dandy," Hyunjin mocks, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He offers a look in your direction as he's approaching a stop sign.

"I told him to suck my dick," you admit, fighting the cackle that tempted your throat and left its mark on your lips.

Hyunjin gasps sarcastically. He releases a hand from the wheel to shield his mouth in dramatic disbelief. "The nicest person I know would never say such a thing."

Memories of middle school Hyunjin press the tip of your tongue and you're prepared to tease him when he pulls up to your house.

"Thanks for the ride," you glance at Hyunjin as you're unbuckling your seatbelt.

"Anytime," he smiles. And for a moment, you can spot the genuineness.

Just as you're about the close the door, he says, "Don't break Jisung's heart, okay?"

Offering a meek smile, you reply, "It's not on my agenda."

vii.

The moon casts a soft glow on the rooftop. It encases you in an aura of safety.

Beside you, Jisung whispers, "I can't believe it's been six months."

You inhale the fresh air as your eyes fall. You whisper, as if this were a secret, "I love you."

"I love you too," he says, draping an arm around your shoulders.

"Do you think they know we're up here?" you open your eyes to count the stars.

"If they did, we wouldn't be up here," he points out.

You look over to him. Of all the stars, he shines the brightest. You shift your eyes down to his lips.

Catching your gaze, he mumbles, "You know you don't have to ask or wait for me to-"

With that little hint of permission, you press your lips against his. The world shifts to a halting stop as the breeze fades. Warmth engulfs your body and nerves trickle goosebumps down your spine.

He slips away for a moment too long. Craving the warmth of your lips again, he meets with them once more.

He knows he's going to marry you, but he wants to treasure moments like these. Without the burden of children. Just pure teen love.

Once more, he breaks apart. His ragged breaths are hot against your face as he asks, "Do you wanna go to a party with me tomorrow?"

You hesitate, acknowledging the bore of the party twenty feet below you. "Whose party is it?"

"Seungmin's. Don't worry, it's his little brother's party. No vodka. No Kijeong twerking on the wall. Just pizza and, if we're lucky, a game of Apples to Apples," Jisung describes. You can envision it now. Jisung messily slurping down pizza with grease splattered across his face and hands. And for some reason, you wouldn't miss that sight for the world.

"Count me in."

"Sweet. If the pizza gets snagged, we can go to Dominos or something. I think Jeongin's working tomorrow," he offers.

"We haven't had a pizza date in a while," you state, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Do you even remember what happened last time?" his infamous giggle fills the void of night.

"Yes, but tell me the story again," you hide the blush that paints your face by nuzzling into his boney shoulder.

"I'm not telling the world that awful story!" he exclaims, jokingly shoving you off of him.

"You mean the one where you called our waitress 'babe' because you didn't realize it wasn't me?"

His cheeks burn with embarrassment as he stammers, "I-In my defense, I was looking at my phone. And, and from the corner of my eye it looked like you!"

"Oh so you don't even know what your own soulmate looks like?" you tease.

"Shut up," he pouts, crossing his arms defensively against his chest.

You try to unlock his stiff arms so you can weasel your way in. But he remains strong, chanting that you apologize.

"Fine, I'm sorry," you manage through bursts of laughter.

As soon as the laugh fully slips from your parted lips, Jisung tackles you in a bear hug.

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you," he repeats over and over. The words fill the air with such simplistic ease. As if they didn't weigh three hundred thousand tons.

The butterflies never grow tame, you realize. Of course, neither does the loud pounds of your heart when he's around. With Hyunjin, at least the butterflies would calm down on the occasion. And your heart wouldn't ache when he was gone for too long.

viii.

You enter the party with the comfort of Jisung's hand in yours. Ahead of you, a piñata swings from a branch and children are circling chairs as a polka blares from someone's phone.

"Ah, you came!" Seungmin grins, clapping Jisung's shoulder and offering you a welcoming smile. You hadn't talked much since the night of your nineteenth birthday.

"Here's his present," you pull a small, wrapped box from your purse.

"What is it?" he interrogates, a small purse to his lips as he examines the box.

"Baseball cards. One of them's signed," Jisung jumps in, draping a lazy arm around your shoulder.

"I might have to steal these," Seungmin eyes the light blue wrapping paper. Jokingly, he tries to sneak it into his pocket.

"Who all's here?" Jisung asks, settling the laughter that followed Seungmin's stunt.

"Hyunjin, Minho, and Chan are playing Just Dance with my dad in the living room. A few of Soobin's friends from school are here. They're the only ones who've shown so far."

"Do you wanna go talk with them? I need to talk with Seungmin about something," Jisung glances at you, slowly retracting his arm.

Bobbing your head, you say, "Yeah, of course."

Before entering the home through the open glass door, you glance back at Jisung and Seungmin. They're boisterously laughing, so the conversation must not be too serious.

You feel bad. For these past six months, Jisung spent every waking minute with you. Aside from his games and classes, that is. Today should be good for him, so he can get out and socialize.

As you poke your head into the living room, Hyunjin shouts as he drops the Wii remote, "Has he proposed yet?"

Stifling a laugh, you shake your head.

"Bro, you're ruining our score!" Chan reaches for the fallen controller. Seungmin's dad sits on the couch contently. He cheers on his teammate quietly.

"What the hell is he waiting for?" Hyunjin's eyes widen as he slowly approaches you with his arms crossing his chest.

You shrug. "I'm not sure, but I don't really care that much. Teen love is nice without the whole marriage question."

Seungmin's dad nods his head at that. Without breaking his gaze from the animated figures dancing, he announces, "Don't feel pressured. Seungmin's mother and I waited until she got pregnant with our eldest. Made the wedding photos a bit more special."

As you're about to open your mouth, a girl around your age with a lavender dress enters from the backyard. "Oh, uh, hi."

Your eyebrows jump as you stare down Hyunjin. He shakes his head before holding the girl's gaze. "Are you here for Soobin?"

Based on the stumbled attempts she made to speak, it was pretty clear what was going on.

"Hyunjin, I think you've just found your soulmate," Minho finally pauses the game, glancing back to send teasing heart eyes.

You slip past the scene, back into the noisy yard. Jisung waves you over with a grin. Seungmin stands close, showing him a random meme on his phone.

You quickly cross the yard, declaring with a broad smile, "Hyunjin just met his soulmate."

"What? Who?" Seungmin asks, radically shocked. He didn't expect Hyunjin to ever find his soulmate. Now he owes Jeongin twenty bucks.

"I don't know her name, but she's wearing a lavender dress and her hair is in a braid," you describe.

Seungmin peers behind you, gasping at the girl he sees. "You're actually joking."

"Who is she?"

"My fucking cousin. I don't wanna be related to Hyunjin!" Seungmin cries, stomping his foot and pushing out his lip like a child.

"Just get disowned. It's not that hard. You already dropped out of baseball," Jisung points out, mocking the way Seungmin had sobbed at their last high school game.

The glare Seungmin holds scares even you, though Jisung doesn't seem phased. You had always admired that confident perk of him. Though, one day, you knew it was going to get him killed.

ix.

With his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, Jisung sleeps. The TV hums at low volume. It's the home shopping network, advertising socks that are moisture resistant.

Your thoughts prevent you from slipping into the dream world, though your eyes were aching with tiredness. It's nearly been three years. Hyunjin and his wife have already wed. Even Jeongin married his soulmate. But Jisung still shows no sign of even proposing.

He couldn't be losing interest, could he? People have said that there are glitches in the system. Inaccurate soulmates exist.

The mere thought trembles your body as tears wet your cheeks. The salt stings your skin. It reminds you of the words inking themselves into your skin. Forever, they would taint your wrist. A constant reminder of the boy stirring beside you.

Huskily, Jisung mumbles, "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," you whisper, the tears creating a scratch in your throat. With the pads of your fingers, you quickly swipe at the culprits.

"Why are you shaking? Are you cold?"

You turn in his arms, sniffling. "D-Do you still love me?"

"Why would you even think that? Of course I do," he tightens his grip on you. As if you would turn to dust and slip away. He buries himself in your hair, basking in the sweet smell of your shampoo.

"Then why aren't we progressing? Why haven't you proposed?" your voice cracks as you break out of his hold. You sprout for air, strands of hair sticking to the dampness on your face.

Sighing, Jisung hesitates. "I guess I'm scared."

"Of commitment?"

"Kinda. I'm scared you'll get tired of me. Or annoyed. A lot of people already think that, but the thought of you thinking it is my breaking point," he releases you, sitting up in the bed. He grabs his pillow and hugs it close to him.

You sit up too. Reluctantly, you place your hand on his arm. Tears sting your eyes as you say, "I could never get tired of you. If anything, I'd die wishing I had more time with you."

Jisung drops the pillow, reaching out to hug you. He plays with the ends of your hair and fights tears of his own as he says, "I don't have a ring right now, but I do want to marry you. Beneath all that fear I truly do. Really bad. Will you do me the honors?"

"Ask it properly," you scold, hiding your laugh by burying your face in his neck.

Your breaths tickle his neck as he grins, "Will you marry me?"

"Of course, Mr. Sunshine. I will marry you."

"Sweet," he slips away from the hug, settling back down into the mattress. With his back facing you, he mumbles, "I'm really fucking tired and probably won't remember this in the morning. Remind me about this, will ya?"

You scoff, picking up your pillow and smacking him with it. His laugh fills the room, drowning out the TV and warding the bad thoughts away in a heartbeat. Jisung has that effect. It's like his superpower.

Spending the rest of your life with this...manchild is a blessing. Every conflict you would ever face would be fought with him by your side. A reassuring hand on your back or his arm draped around you to push you. It's weird. But you weren't quite sure if you would ever trade it for the world.

a/n: not my best, but I needed to write something so here it is.

#han jisung #stray kids imagine #stray kids #han jisung imagine #jisung stray kids #jisung imagine #jisung au #bandaigaeru4419 #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz jisung #skz reactions

161 notes · View notes

zodiyack · 5 years ago

Text

Phantom Of The Opera

Requested by anon: Just wanna say that you're my favorite writer on Tumblr! ❤️ I have a strange request. Could you make one Thomas ShelbyxReader based on The Phantom of the Opera? The reader performs in a fancy theater and a man, the theater's ghost, is obsessed with her. And the Peaky Blinders have to wait for the performance to catch him 'cause he's a freaking ghost (Point of No Return scene) I don't know if you ever watched The Phantom of the Opera, but I can send you another message with more info if you want

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of stalking, smoking and alcohol, fluff, angst, mention of murder(?), slightly straying? idk man

Note: I’ve never seen the movie, so I’m not gonna be completely accurate, but it’s not supposed to be EXACTLY the movie, so I guess that’s okay? I hope you guys like it! Also.. don’t mind the singing parts... 😅

so basically, it’s like the movie but there are MAJOR differences... oops

Special addition to the note!: I had some help!! Thank you so much @jenepleurepasbaby for the ideas as well as information from the movie, I can’t thank you enough!

Word count: 3,000+

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @jenepleurepasbaby, @simonsbluee

masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist

She adjusted her hair as the director dismissed everyone. Their practice was now cut short, dark coming closer and closer. Arthur was her ride, yet he lie asleep, and possibly drunk, in one of the seats. Y/n sighed, grabbing bunches of her large white dress. Her friends bid her goodnight as they walked out of the building, leaving Y/n and her lover’s unconscious brother alone and in silence.

Y/n was unsure of her part. Although they just practiced, she felt the need to go over a bit more. Arthur managed to sleep through the entire rehearsal, so who’s to say he wouldn’t sleep through her singing? She would need to wake him up anyway. So she sang, went over her parts, fell into the melody.

That was, until she heard it.

Until she heard him.

The rough organ, the voice. They clicked into her brain, her voice slipping and dropping silent. It took her by surprise. Though she stopped, the voice kept singing. He sounded beautiful, elegant, more perfect for the singing role of her on stage lover than the singing partner selected for said role was.

“Sir?” No response came to Y/n, but the man continued singing. She looked around, checking on Arthur in his intoxicated yet peaceful state, and then starting her mission. She wished to find the voice, so she followed it.

The louder it got, the bigger the pit in her stomach grew. It was a pit of nothing but fear and worry. She didn’t have Tommy with her, and Arthur was asleep, she knew she would need to be careful. Her hand wandered down to her side. Under the thick fabric of her gown, holster from Polly made specifically to hide on her garter clips, was a small gun.

A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released itself from her mouth, relief at the feeling of the cold metal. She hoped she would have no need to use it, but it was good to be cautious.

His singing was now echoing through the hall, signing his presence. Y/n turned and gasped slightly out of shock. She let her eyes study the figure in front of her, the white mask that donned the side of his face, his slicked back hair, the way his voice sounded...

It was almost like his voice was magic. Her eyes gleamed with an entranced look, like she wasn’t fully there.

His free hand reached for hers and before she could top herself, she slipped her palm into his. He stopped singing, leading her through the theater to wherever he was to take her. She couldn’t stop herself, it was hard enough to even thinking in her own voice with his angelic voice.

Now that she heard him in person, she realized she’d heard him many times before. She’d heard him in her dreams, the same voice haunting her, no matter it’s beauty. He called for her, summoning her to a place she had no knowledge of.

The stories of the theater dubbed him the Phantom of the Opera, the ghost who would kill those who refused to do his bidding.

“Reminds me of a certain family.” She remembered telling the story to Tommy and the other Peaky Blinders, referencing their work with teasing smile.

His voice summoned her ever since the first performance she’d ever done at this very theater, a man standing on the rafters and observing her rather intensely. However, she was not the one to spot him that time, instead a backstage worker. He pointed out the man, but Arthur assumed he was just drunk and told Y/n to just ignore it.

Oh how wrong he was.

The half-masked man seemed to have such a power, casting a spell on her and removing logic from her mind. Her face lit up by the torch in his hand as he led her down a staircase. A horse waited down

“Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you, grows stronger yet.” He lifted her onto the horse and guided the dark steed down a ramp-like walkway. “And though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera, is there inside your mind.”

He helped Y/n off the horse, held her hand as he helped her into the small row boat. He rowed through the water, closer and closer to his lair. She didn’t know why, but she felt the urge to join in. Was it his spell? Making her feel this way?

“Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear.” It was definitely him. She couldn’t think of a time she’d ever sing something like this, aside from her performances. “I am the mask you wear,”

“It’s my voice they hear.” He continued to sing as she transferred to the operatic vocalizing. The masked Phantom encouraged her, stopping his song and listening to her breathtaking voice. “Sing, my angel of music!”

“Sing my angel...Sing for me!” She grew louder the closer they got, the grate lifting and allowing them entry to his underground lair. “Sing my angel! Sing for me!!” Y/n hit her final high note, cutting herself off as they came to a stop. The candles, which had risen from the foggy waters, were just now being processed with mild confusion. The events prior to her arrival in his hideaway were catching up to her, equally as mysterious.

“Listen my dear. Can you hear that?”

“Hear what?” The Phantom held her hand, helping her out of the boat.

“The organ, of course. I’ve played it for you, in hopes that you’d listen and find your way to me. And that, you did.”

“You were... playing it... for me?” Y/n raised her eyebrows curiously. He nodded, walking over and playing a few notes to the song she had been rehearsing before she wounded up in his secret home. “W-Why?”

“What better way to prove my love for you?”

Her mind gave itself a slap to the face, returning herself to full consciousness, the hypnotic state the Phantom had her in was nowhere to be found. “Excuse me?”

“Is there a problem? I’m simply stating my admiration for you. My undying heart, it beats only for you, and your marvelous voice. That man, the one who sent the other with you, he has no love for you. His heart holds no care nor affection for you. Alas, that is one thing he and I do not have in common.” The Phantom’s lips curled into a smile, a child-like innocence that could’ve tricked Y/n’s back into her trance.

But it didn’t. She pushed him away from her, making sure to not be too rough. “Why!? Why would you say such a thing!? You trick me into following you, just to reveal you wanted to rid me of my lover?”

“No, not just that-”

“Have you lost your mind?! I’m sorry, I can’t. It was a pleasure meeting you, dear Phantom, but I’m afraid I simply cannot except any offers you have. Your love is flattering, but my heart belongs to the one who actually does love me back.” Her hands gripped her dress again, pulling it up enough for her to move back to the row boat.

However, she couldn’t make it to the small boat on time. He grabbed her arm and yanked her towards him, forcing her to face him. “Please, Y/n, just let me prov-”

“How do you know my name?” A silence split between the two. He didn’t answer her question. She looked up at him slowly, curiosity overtaking her. He was distracted, unaware, it as the perfect time to strike. She reached for his mask, snatching it, but being pushed to the ground before she could see his face.

He growled, covering the side with his hand, screaming insults at her as she remained on the ground with wide eyes. She was too shocked to move. The push managed to take the breath from her lungs, resulting in small coughs when she tried to stand up.

“I- I’m sorry.” She reached for his cheek, the action startling him. He stumbled backwards, he reached forwards slowly when she held out his mask, ripping it from her hands. “Please, could you take me back to the theater?”

He didn’t respond. His own way of saying no.

“I’ll... um... I’ll be going then.”

He didn’t stop her. He wanted to, but he didn’t. Besides, she had a performance coming up, did she not?

. . .

“Y/n has called a family meeting!” Arthur stomped over to his chair, sitting and crossing his arms as he waited for the rest of his family.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, Pol, I’m fine...”

Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yesterday. Theater. Stalker. Tell them, Y/n.”

The family’s eyes shifted from Y/n to Arthur, then back to Y/n after he finished his sentence. “Fine. There was...a man... Um... Remember the ‘drunken man’ from my first performance?”

Everyone nodded. Esme stepped in, receiving a short glance from John, “What happened? Did your stalker try to kill you or something?”

“No no no, he wouldn’t do that.” The calmed family turned to Y/n with concern and confusion. Y/n looked at each one of them, anticipating their reactions. More specifically, Tommy’s. Jealousy and anger surged throughout his body, and somehow, everyone could tell. Jumping out of her chair, she walked over to him and pecked his lips reassuringly, “No, I’m not in love with him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Alright alright, Tommy, stop being jealous, Y/n, we must be getting back to the point. Please explain what this meeting is for?”

“Ah yes,” She sat back down. “He um... well he took me somewhere. It was like..under the theater? I sang with him... he called me his ‘angel of music’, and he said my name...”

“What else did he do?” Tommy’s jaw clenched.

“He wouldn’t take me back, so I went back myself. He um... well he did do um.. something...”

Arthur slammed his cup onto the table, standing up quickly, ignoring the wide eyed glares from Linda and Polly. “Oh get bloody on with it! It’s not like you slept with him or something!”

“Damn it Arthur! Could you please just give her some fucking time!?”

“T-thank you, Pol... but Arthur’s right. The man... he... confessed.”

Lizzie was the one to react first this time. She seemed mentally absent from the conversation until the confession had been mentioned, her jaw dropping and eyes popping. “Confessed what?”

“His love. For- for me. I left at that point. He tried to tell me Tommy didn’t love me, but no words from anyone could ever make me believe that. It felt like he put me into some from of trance until then, which I snapped myself out of once he brought up love.”

Tommy started for the door, gun in hand, but was stopped by Y/n. “Please, just... just leave this be... let the coppers handle it, it’ll be alright.”

“Alright? Alright? All-fucking-right?” the blue eyed man pointed to the door, the veins in his hands were bulging. “Out there is a man who is stalking you, obsessing over you, and possibly targeting me so he can take you. And you’re gonna tell me it’ll be ‘alright’?”

“Tom... to be fair, you are being a little ov-”

“Ada, don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence. Tommy’s right.” If looks could kill, Arthur would be long gone by now. “When it first happened, she asked us to wait until it happened more, then it did. But she still didn’t want us to do anything. This time she had an in-person encounter with the creep, and she wants us to wait for coppers?”

He turned to Y/n, “Arthur’s correct. We waited, just as you asked, and now, it’s extreme. Please...” He returned his gun to it’s holster, taking her face in his hands, “let us deal with this.”

“I-” Her e/c orbs glanced around the room, zooming from person to person before giving in and locking eyes with the man in front of her and relaxing into his touch. “Okay... just, don’t hurt him. He seemed so... alone.”

“We can’t promise anything, but we’ll try our best. We’ll all come to the show, and we’ll be your protection, alright?” She nodded and kissed him back as he pressed his lips to hers softly. “Now, let’s get home.”

“Thank you everyone... I’m sorry about-”

“No.” Y/n’s head snapped up, quirking an eyebrow to Polly’s interruption. “Don’t be sorry. It’s gonna be okay. Get some rest, you have quite a performance to prepare for.” With that, she winked and smiled, waving goodbye to Y/n and Tommy as they exited the Betting Shop. She was right. They had a big day tomorrow, and there was no time for messing around.

. . .

As she sang, her eyes were focused on the audience, darting around in search for her lover and his family. The Peaky Blinders weren’t that hard to miss, but they soon became so when The Phantom entered onto the stage where her partner should’ve. She noticed quite quickly, the difference in vocal ranges, the height and figure differences. She would be lying if she were to say she didn’t feel even the slightest bit of fear.

Their voices danced together, the trance returning to her, her body and mind betraying her. The Phantom walked closer, lust filled his eyes, the trance-like-state forcing the same into hers. Tommy, in his seat, gripped his gun. Patience escaped him, replaced with burning jealousy and rage.

“When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last, consume us?”

They began towards each other. Arthur nudged Tommy’s shoulder, gesturing to some of the cast peaking from behind the curtain, obviously puzzled with Y/n’s singing partner. All the proof they needed that he was the man they were watching for.

Their voices joined, “Past the point of no return! The final threshold!” Tommy’s hold on his weapon grew tighter as Y/n and The Phantom closed the distance between their bodies. The stranger spun Y/n around and wrapped his arms around her stomach, his hands over hers. “The bridge is crossed, so stand, and watch it burn...”

Like a bull to a red flag, the sight of The Phantom’s wandering right hand traveling up Y/n’s chest and to her neck brought darkness to his eyes. “We've passed the point, of no return...”

Although the song was due to end there, The Phantom had other plans.

Y/n’s eyes opened as The Phantom’s voice continued. She was waking herself up, realizing her state and snapping out of it.

“Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime... Lead me, save me, from my solitude... Say you want me with you, here beside you, anywhere you go, let me go too - Y/n, That's all I ask of-”

He was interrupted by the screams of the audience. Y/n did what she needed to do. She had pulled the black mask free of his face, revealing to the audience just who he really was. Thomas took the screams as his cue and pulled his gun from it’s holster. He didn’t move, instead, he waited for a sign that would tell him that it was necessary. He preferred Y/n get out of this alive.

She looked to the Phantom with sorry emotion, genuine sympathy and hurt in her e/c orbs. The Phantom returned her reaction. He couldn’t be mad at her, but that wouldn’t stop him from having her.

Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed the coppers racing to the stage, pushing past people. He immediately grabbed hold of Y/n’s waist, as tight as he could, and cut the string to the enormous chandelier.

Tommy jumped up, alerting his family, directing each person to move out of the way. He froze, watching Y/n and The Phantom fall from the bridge, and into the ground. Tommy surged forward, leaning over the railing and screaming in agony, forced to watch the stalker escape through a hole in the ground with the love of his life. Polly, Michael, and Arthur grabbed Tommy, trying to pull him back. Even Pol had tears in her eyes.

It was never meant to go this way.

When did everything go so wrong?

What did they mess up?

. . .

The three brothers found their way through waters, ending up in The Phantom’s lair. Tommy’s eyes widened. Y/n, face covered in tears, mouth shivering, frozen in fear, stood there, next to The Phantom, in a wedding dress. She looked gorgeous, but Tommy couldn’t let that distract him.

“What the f-”

Arthur slapped a hand over John’s mouth, quieting him before they could be caught by the pair. He looked over to his other brother, scanning the look of worry on his face. His other hand rubbed his brother’s arm comfortingly.

“Pity comes too late,” The Phantom placed a veil on Y/n’s head, “turn around and face your fate! And eternity of this!-” he pointed to the scared side of his face, “before your eyes...” He calmed himself by looking into her eyes. Erik, the Phantom, placed a ring into Y/n’s hand.

Y/n walked to a covered mirror, taking off the veil as she walked. “This haunted face,” She tore down the cover, turning to Erik. It was clear that they were no longer strangers. “Holds no horror for me now. It’s in your soul; that the true distortion lies...”

John snorted a little, finding humor in the fact that they were still singing, but quickly shut up when Erik turned his head towards the noise. It was too late, far far far too late. He smirked mischievously.

“Wait, my dear, I think we have some guests!” He switched from singing to talking.

Her eyes followed his gaze, spotting Tommy, John, and Arthur. “Tommy!” She moved forward. Tommy mirrored her and pressed himself against the portcullis.

“Sir. Or shall I say, sirs. This is indeed, an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you,” he made eye contact with Tommy, “that you would come!” Erik walked down the steps, next to Y/n. “And now, my wish comes true.” He pulled Y/n into her side. Tommy flinched upon hearing and seeing Y/n’s panic caused by Erik’s actions. “You have truly made my night.”

“Let me go-”

Everything broke from Tommy’s head. It was purely in the moment. For once he was acting with his heart, rather than his brain. “Free her!” Y/n stopped and looked to him with confusion, opposite to Erik’s looks of amusement. “Do to me whatever you would like, but please! Free her!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.”

“Please- Tommy... it’s useless...”

“Tom! She’s right, we can’t do anything with this stupid thing in the way.” Arthur grumbled.

“I love her!” He was speaking to everyone. From the heart. “Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion-”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” The brothers and Y/n faced Erik, small signs of empathy for the red and ruined side of his face.

“Y/n. Y/n, let me see her. Let me fucking see her!” Tommy kicked the portcullis harshly, showing his demand was not to be taken as a joke.

“Be my guest, sir.” Erik smirked wider and walked to a lever. He pulled it and the portcullis began moving upwards. Before he could say more, Tommy fired random shots. He could careless if he hit The Phantom or missed, his mission was to get Y/n and then skedaddle the fuck out of there.

John and Arthur exchanged glances and nods, joining Tommy in open fire towards the man.

Tommy reached Y/n, pausing and pressing a kiss to her soft lips, closing his eyes and melting into their short kiss. After the separated, he picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other somewhere above her waist. He nodded to her. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

“John! Arthur! Cease fire! I repeat! Cease fire!”

Erik chuckled madly, “Aren’t you going to finish me?” He looked at Arthur, then his gun. “Kill me!”

Arthur raised his gun. Aimed. Inhaled.

“Stop! Don’t kill him! Let him be... please...” Y/n faced Tommy with watery eyes, “let me down for a second, please.” Thomas hesitated, but followed the orders of his significant other. She kissed him once more, then walked to Erik and shooed the brothers away from him.

“W-what’re you doing!? Y/n! T-Tom, she’s gonna get hers-”

“Leave it Arthur. Y/n knows what she’s doing. I hope.” Tommy mumbled the last sentence under his breath.

They watched as Y/n caressed the cheek of the scared side to Erik’s face, her face scrunching with visible focus. She pulled him down to her, rested her forehead against his and whispered to him.

“Angel of music... thank you for this journey... Alas, twasn’t I that was destined to join you on it.” John shouted for her to hurry, the sound of the coppers growing near. “Run, dear Phantom, run and don’t ever look back. One day the world will except you...you just can’t force it.”

Y/n reached for his hand, opening it and placing his ring in it, then folding it shut, just as he did to her hand. He smiled at her. He finally surrendered.

Tommy walked up to them, causing Erik to move back a bit. Tom stopped in front of the man and handed him a large amount of money, smiling with a heart full of sympathy. “Run, Phantom. As far as the coppers know, you’re dead. My uncle will have a boat, board it if you’d like. Start a new life.”

The Phantom nodded, taking the money. But. He paused. “Go. Be free, my Angel of Music. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and care, and I thank you for that.” The unfamiliar voices neared. Erik’s eyes widened, “Hurry! Leave! Go!”

Tommy grabbed Y/n, pulling her with him as they headed into the water and tried to ran through it. Y/n turned her head, giving Erik one last look, giving him one last nod, and smiling to him for the last time. They ran out the burning theater, Moss interviewed her, writers for news companies chased after her, but everyone was shooed away by her family.

At home, Tommy cradled Y/n’s cheeks, looking deeply into her eyes. “I thought I lost you...”

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” She leaned forward, mumbling against his lips, “I missed you... I love you so much Tommy.”

Tommy closed the cap between them, staying for a few minutes. Peaceful. Quiet. Still in his suit and her in the wedding gown she was forced into. “I love you too, Y/n. Very much... Maybe this dress could do some use for us. Eh?”

134 notes · View notes

miminorenai · 5 years ago

Photo

Chapter 7

(Eh...?)

(There’s someone on the stage...)

Onstage, MC notices shadows of two person, wearing costumes or something like, armors (?), and Shakespeare at the side of stage along with someone she doesn’t know.

She mentions how passionate are them for still practicing until this late of night.

Dazai “......No.”

Dazai manages to catch up to her, and then —

Shakespeare “Wellington, Gilles de Rais......!”

Sword clashes could be heard, along with surprised and impatient voices.

Unconsciously, MC’s shoulders start shaking and her eyes open widely.

Man 1 “I’ll kill you, for justice......!”

Man 1 “...Ugh...Why am I still holding the sword...? What was my justice......?”

Man 2 “......It’s not enough, I need more death to get him back......”

Man 2 “If I offer death, will God......return him...?”

At the moment the clashes become intense —

(What...?)

Dazai “Mimi-san.”

Just before Dazai could cover her eyes, MC saw the shadows thrust their swords deeply into each other chests......

He immediately brings MC away from there, just then gently, Dazai releases his hands.

MC’s body hardly move in Dazai’s arms.

With the heart’s beating face and shaking voice —

MC “Dazai-san......They-they are practicing for a play just now, right......?”

Feeling anxious, MC grasps her hands tightly.

Dazai then lies his hands on MC’s (hands), and reassuring her.

Dazai “......Of course. As expected of the member of Shakespeare-kun’s theater. The acting looks so real that you can tell even in the dark.”

Dazai “It’s rude to see more of the story material, so let’s go back.”

MC “...Alright...”

He says it with a light tone and gently presses MC’s back.

(Really......it was acting, right?)

The metallic clashing sound and the groans are still clear in MC’s ears.

She leans over to Dazai’s warmth in order to escape them.

In confusion, MC doesn’t realize that —

— she drops a handkerchief on the spot.

Charles-Henri Sanson feels some presence, but when he raises his head towards the spot, there’s no shadows.

Charles “Is it my imagination?”

Seeing the blood pool on the stage with a pale face —

Shakespeare “......What....why....?”

Charles “What’s wrong, Will? Why do you look pale?”

Charles “It’s the tragedy of the “special casts” that Will wanted to see.”

Shakespeare “Charles...”

Charles “They were two famous soldier, right?”

Charles “Duke Wellington who defeated Napoleon and Gilles de Rais who fought with Jeanne.”

Both of them lived in different countries and era, and should never be in 19th century.

Shakespeare “Why are the two who have nothing to do with each other —”

Charles “With his brainwashing power, Ōsama tried to amplify the negativity rooted in their hearts — saying it was a present for Will.”

Charles “「Since you cannot write a play easily, it might be a little inspiring」, he said.”

Turning even paler —

Shakespeare “I didn’t want this......!”

Shakespeare “I wish I had seen special casts who leave behind their names in history, to be in conflicts and struggling before fate.”

Shakespeare “And then I want to make that experiences before my eyes as a source of creative production.......”

Shakespeare “This is not a tragedy, this is a plain murder!”

Charles “I don’t like this......They fought at great pains, but end up dying in vain.”

Shakespeare’s face distorted in pain and he falls on his knees as he’s collapsing due to overwhelming feelings.

After seeing the state/condition with his own eyes, Charles ascending the stage and a man with glasses already waited for him.

Johann Georg Faust.

Faust “Are you done?”

Charles “Doc, did you come to pick me up? Ah, are you going to dissect them?”

Faust “I won’t. It’s a gift from *His Excellency Vlad for Shakespeare, right?”

(*he used 閣下 here, which means His Excellency, so can Lord used here as well?

Charles “Well, that’s true, but...”

While walking behind Faust who’s going to call for a carriage to the castle —

Charles “Hey, doc. I don’t really understand.”

Charles “Will said it wasn’t a tragedy, but killing each other is a tragedy, right? What’s the difference?”

Faust “......That’s just his aesthetics as playwright, I think. Or is it obsession?”

Faust “In any case, Charl doesn’t need to think that deeply.”

Just then, Charles notices and picks up MC missing handkerchief, along with her initial.

Turning back —

Faust “What’s wrong?”

Charles “Nuh-uh, it’s nothing.”

With a smile, he put the handkerchief into his pocket.

The carriage they on board runs through the night of Paris.

As soon as Faust and Charles arrives at the castle, they set foot on the garden.

??? “...... —𝅘𝅥𝅮......”

Their master, Vlad is humming happily while attending the flowers.

Faust “Goodness, the sun had fallen, but are you still taking care of flowers?”

Charles “Ahaha! You’re still in your apron, Lord Vlad?

Vlad “Eh......right, I’m really absorbed in flowers and forgot to change my clothes.”

Vlad “......Welcome home, both of you.”

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevam dazai #osamu dazai #ikevam spoilers

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dweemeister · 5 years ago

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NOTE: Despite the fact The Magic Flute was originally released on Swedish television on January 1, 1975, it debuted as a theatrical film in the United States later that year in November. As per the rules I set out for this blog, Bergman’s The Magic Flute will be treated as a theatrical film.

The Magic Flute (1975, Sweden)

I imagine that when some people read that this film review concerns an adaptation of an opera, they will stop reading at the word, “opera”. As someone who was taught classical music from an early age, I get it. Opera seems inaccessible, and a several-minute aria just to get a plot point across can seem daunting (not just for the audience, but the performer too). But as with any artistic medium, there will always be points of entry for newcomers. Ingmar Bergman’s 1975 adaptation of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s opera The Magic Flute is one of them. The Magic Flute is one of the more accessible and most performed operas in Western classical music, and it just so happened to be Ingmar Bergman’s favorite. Bergman saw the opera when he was twelve years old, leaving an immediate impression. Unable to afford the record, he attempted to recreate The Magic Flute with marionettes at home. By the mid-1970s and having cinematic and stage production experience in his oeuvre, Bergman dared to imagine filming his favorite opera.

There are numerous cinematic opera adaptations. But they are underseen and largely unavailable to North American viewers – I am not including filmed opera performances in this distinction (e.g. the Metropolitan Opera’s popular live feeds that are presented in movie theaters and public television). Invariably, Bergman’s The Magic Flute is mentioned on the rare occasions when opera films are discussed. Sometimes, due to contempt for opera or a lack of understanding about classical music, it is the only such opera film discussed, and usually never from a musical lens.

In this adaptation, Bergman attempts to meld the distinct artifices of cinema and opera together. The viewer is never transported to a fantastical world, as the film possesses no “fourth wall” to begin with. We see an audience – look closely and you will see Bergman and cinematographer Sven Nykvist in the audience – waiting in anticipation during the overture, and the action takes place on what appears to be a homely community opera house. On occasion, we will see the performers backstage preparing for their musical entrances. When their performance begins, they inhabit the world of the opera.

This peculiar dynamic Bergman creates is less believable on a more gargantuan stage. The stage’s production design and deliberately low-budget (but charming) costume design suggests we are experiencing a performance given by a small community opera company. La Scala this is not, nor is it the Met or Paris Opera. Bergman wished to shoot the film at the Drottningholm Palace Theatre in Stockholm, a small eighteenth-century theater that still uses mechanisms dating back to its inception. Unfortunately, that theater was deemed too fragile for film equipment. Nevertheless, Bergman and production designer Henny Noremark (who also served as co-costume designer along with Karin Erskine) concocted a workaround. On a soundstage at the Swedish Film Institute, the production design team painstakingly crafted a facsimile of the Drottningholm Palace Theatre’s interior. The Magic Flute appears to be an inexpensive production, but it is anything but. The stage is intimate, inviting, personable.

In brief, Mozart’s opera is set in Egypt and concerns a mother-daughter dispute rife with misunderstanding. The protagonist, Prince Tamino (Josef Köstlinger), is contacted by the Queen of the Night (Birgit Nordin). She asks him to free her daughter Pamina (Irma Urrila) from the clutches of a high priest named Sarastro (Ulrik Cold; doesn’t that sound like a villainous name?). After being shown a portrait of Pamina, Tamino falls instantly in love with her – that’s opera logic, you know. Tamino is joined in his adventures by Papageno (Håkan Hagegård), an overly talkative bird-catcher dressed like a bird. But Tamino will learn more about Sarastro’s priestly order and becomes interested in joining. The Magic Flute has been interpreted as heavily influenced by Masonic themes, and modern analyses clash as to whether its portrayal of the Queen of the Night is misogynistic (see: Sarastro’s belief that Pamina should not be subject to the Queen’s feminine manipulations) or proto-feminist.

Also featured are the conniving Monostatos (Ragnar Ulfung) and, in the second act, Papagena (Elisabeth Erikson). The Magic Flute benefits from an excellent recording by the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra under the direction of conductor Eric Ericson.

Opera films tend to adhere closely to the work composer and librettist. Bergman exercises some liberties with Mozart’s music and Emanuel Schikaneder’s libretto*. Instead of the original German, this film uses a Swedish-language libretto by the poet Alf Henrikson (this Swedish-language version debuted at the Royal Swedish Opera in 1968). No offense against the Swedish language, but this Swedish-language version of The Magic Flute makes the musical phrasing awkward. Mozart’s opera was composed with German in mind. German may not be a listenable as Italian in an operatic setting (it could be worse, it could be English – as in the otherwise excellent 1951′s The Tales of Hoffman, adapted from Jacques Offenbach’s opera of the same name), but this should have been Bergman’s first choice.

The decision to cast singers with sweeter voices rather than full, unamplified ones assumes that an audience cannot tolerate a soprano’s high notes. "Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen" – commonly known as the Queen of the Night aria – demands full-bodied womanly rage to sing. The soprano should sing this forcefully, but not harshly. It feels like Bergman is asking Birgit Nordin to hold back her vocals during the aria (which also sounds rushed in the second half). Whether in an opera or an operatic adaptation for film, this is not an aria that should be sung with anything less than full power. Bergman should let Nordin sing this aria as it should be sung. To do so invites a starker contrast between those few minutes and the rest of the film – a show-stopper as Mozart intended it to be. Nevertheless, Bergman’s decision to prioritize acting over musicality – however it grates upon my senses – works for all the other roles. Nykvist’s cinematography pulls close to the actors’ faces, demanding more facial acting from the cast (who are all lip-syncing) than they might be used to. The cast succeeds in this challenge, approaching a type of acting they are unaccustomed to.

The setting of Bergman’s Magic Flute strips away much of the opera’s original Egyptian setting and settles for a vaguely European design. The Queen of the Night-Sarastro conflict becomes a parental dispute, as Bergman makes Sarastro Pamina’s father. A few trios in Act II have been eliminated. Also in Act II and to the film’s detriment, Bergman changes the order of appearance of two Papageno-centric scenes to the point where they no longer make any narrative sense.

Where Bergman’s The Magic Flute triumphs is its representation of the nature of live opera (and, by extension, live theater). When one experiences an opera or theater, everything onstage is an interpretation, a living fiction. The events onstage and the music transport one from reality, without ever truly leaving that reality. Moments in which Swedish text of the libretto appears in front of the actors (sometimes held by the actors themselves) precede the creation and widespread use of surtitles in opera houses today. By making somewhat indistinguishable the actors’ transition between the “real” and operatic worlds (during the intermission’s last moments, we see actors smoke a cigarette and two others playing chess), Bergman shows that the viewer is as much a part of the performance. We assign as much meaning to the unreality of an opera as the actors. The whimsical comedy of The Magic Flute – one filled with imperfect protagonists and subplots that never quite cohere – makes Bergman’s metatextual commentary more apparent and approachable.

The Magic Flute followed two heavy Bergman dramas in Cries and Whispers (1972) and Scenes from a Marriage (1973). Having watched twelve of his forty-five feature films, The Magic Flute is, by some distance, the liveliest Bergman film I have seen. I do not expect any others to be as light, as comedic as this – the key difference might be that Bergman is adapting material, rather than using an original screenplay of his. It is refreshing to see an Ingmar Bergman without a gripping existential crisis, mentally disturbed characters soliloquizing their plights.

In The Magic Flute, the relationship between our lived reality and theatrical artifice holds for every person that engages with the performing arts. Debuting in Vienna in 1791, The Magic Flute, Mozart’s final opera, was not composed for aristocratic patrons, but commoners. Almost two centuries later, the in-film audience of Bergman’s adaptation is comprised of various genders and races. That universality of the theatrical experience is reflected in their faces, interspersed on occasion alongside scene changes and still moments. The universality of Western classical music, in this case Mozart’s, is etched in their gazes. Nykvist’s camera keeps returning to one young girl in particular. She is always smiling, obviously enchanted by The Magic Flute. Perhaps she is feeling things akin to Bergman the first time he experienced The Magic Flute – unburdened by cynicism, more accepting of unreality.

My rating: 7.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

*A librettist is the opera term for a lyricist. The Magic Flute is a Singspiel opera, which means it contains snippets of dialogue. Schikaneder wrote both the lyrics and dialogue.

#The Magic Flute #Trollflöjten #Mozart #Ingmar Bergman #Josef Köstlinger #Håkan Hagegård #Birgit Nordin #Irma Urrila #Ragnar Ulfung #Ulrik Cold #Britt Marie Aruhn #Kirsten Vaupel #Birgitta Smiding #Elisabeth Erikson #Emanuel Schikaneder #Alf Henrikson #Sven Nykvist #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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anggecity · 5 years ago

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The Don Roman Santos Building

@ Escolta, Manila, Philippines – 17 Oct 2020

I have written an article for Renacimiento Manila's Manila Weekly last July about this Neoclassical wonder, but I believe that the write-up still lacked essential information. Upon alighting the train, a northbound rider at the LRT would be greeted by this dilapidated structure, though the Bank of the Philippine Islands (BPI) still generally uses the building.

Electric bikes have formed lines there, waiting for prospective passengers to pay them for a ride. There are also street dwellers who use the area as a shelter, depending on the time of day. At the Escolta side, the BPI branch is still rather active.

Despite the nine-storey building's catchy color of cream yellow while boasting its Ionic columns and a detailed tympanum, it remains to be obscured, being an ubiquitous sight and lately, with the imposing blue fencing around Plaza Lacson. There is also a high-rise building that hovers from behind, unfortunately.

I had always wanted to visit the huge historical marker on marble—but due to its sheer inaccessibility and impracticality to go there, I never had the chance. But when I and my mom hailed for a bus en route to PITX, it was then for me to come closer and take snaps of this marker. The text cannot be read in one standing, thanks to weathering, dirt, and apparently lack of maintenance.

I made a mental note to transcribe the text as soon as I went home, thinking that this marker details the much-needed information that had made the article better last July.

The marker reads:

THE ROMAN R. SANTOS BUILDING

Construction of this building was first conceived in 1884 by the Council of Administration of the Monte de Piedad y Casa de Anorros that, by a decree issued by Governor General Domingo Moriones Marquis of Oroquieta, had on February 3, 1880, been created as a bank of the poor. Laying of cornerstone took place on July 24, 1887, birthday of Her Spanish Majesty, Queen Maria Cristina.

The site, formerly that that of the residence of the Corregidor of Tondo and Jail of the Corregimiento, had been coded to the Monte de Piedad by the City Council of Manila upon petition of the then Metropolitan Archbishop of Manila Don Fr. Pedro Payo. The plans were prepared by Architect Don Jose Hervas, and the foundations were laid under the supervision of a commission composed by City Councilors Don Eugenio Netter, Don Jose Zaragosa, and Don Manuel Marzano. Construction was undertaken by Don Demetrio Caro.

Initial construction funds were furnished by the aforementioned Metropolitan Archbishop of Manila which funds were later augmented by subscriptions from private individuals and by loans from the Banco Español Filipino.

The building was finished and inaugurated on July 20, 1894. A special session of the Council of Administration of the Monte de Piedad y Casa de Anorros was held for the first time that day in this building. That session was presided over by Archbishop of Manila Don Fr Bernardino Nozaleda, with the Commander of the Naval Station, the City Governor of Manila, the General of Artillery, the Reverend Rector of the University of Santo Tomas, Don Jose Garcia Lara, Don Silvino Lopez Tuñon, Don Eugenio del Saz Orozco, Don Gonzalo Tuazon, Don Rafael Perez Samanillo and Don Jose Zaragoza, attending.

In 1937 ownership of the building passed into the Consolidated Investment Corporation. The old one storey building was reconstructed into a nine-storey structure, now called the Consolidated Investments Building on plans prepared by the architect, Don Andrés Luna de San Pedro, with engineer Don Jose Cortez taking charge of the construction.

The outbreak of the war on December 8, 1941 halted the construction work at the fourth storey, upon the occupation of the City of Manila by the Japanese Forces. The latter converted this building into a warehouse. In 1944 the property passed under the control of the Magdalena Estate. Upon liberation the American Red Cross converted the building into a hospital and it remained a such until 1947.

On July 2, 1952, the Prudential Bank and Trust Company, Don Roman R. Santos, Chairman-Founder and President, took possession of the building and converted its ground floor into the head office for the bank. On January 3, 1955 the property was sold by the Magdalena Estate to Don Roman R. Santos and the Prudential Bank and Trust Company. The building was renamed the Roman R. Santos Building.

The Roman R. Santos Building administration, Don Augusto A. Santos, President, was organized to administer the property. The unfinished construction was resumed immediately, and Don Andrés Luna de San Pedro having died, architectural supervision was entrusted to Don Enrique J.J. Ruiz. The nine storey remodelling and reconstruction were completed in 1957.

On July 19, 1959, Don Roman R. Santos died and Don Augusto A. Santos was elected Chairman of the Board of the Prudential Bank and Trust Company in his stead.

In 1961, the remodelling of the basement, ground and mezzanine floors was started by an authority of the Prudential Bank Board of Directors, Don Augusto A. Santos, Chairman, Mr. George Litton Sr., Vice Chairman, Don Pio Pedrosa, President, and Don Francisco D. Garcia, Don Federico A. Santos, Don Francisco C. Delgado and Ex-Supreme Court Justic Alex Reyes, Members, to house the expanded offices of the bank. Architectural plans were prepared by the firm of Messrs. Gabriel Formoso and Associates. Construction work was entrusted to engineer Don David M. Consunji.

This marker fabricated by the Talleres de Maximo Vicente, was set up upon the fourteenth anniversary of the foundation of the Prudential Bank and Trust Company, and the seventh of the death of its founder, Don Roman R. Santos.

Meanwhile, here are excerpts I verified from the same article I wrote last July:

Where the Don Roman Santos building stands today is the former site of the Monte de Piedad y Caja de Ahorras de Manila (shortened to Monte de Piedad), the first savings bank in the Philippines. It was founded by Fr. Felix Huertas of the Franciscan Order, and thus the bank was also noted to be “the Roman Catholic church’s pawnshop”, having been inaugurated in 1882 and was located in its original location at the ground floor of Santa Isabel College, which was then at Intramuros.

The Monte de Piedad transferred to the site of the Don Roman Santos, which was erected in 1894. The neoclassical building was then single-floor, with the triangular facade (tympanum) marking the position of its original roofing. The columns are decorated in accord to the ionic order. President Manuel L. Quezon worked as a clerk there.

The original Monte de Piedad y Casa de Anorros building is the decrepit yet rather frilly building from this Street View. The historical marker can be read here.

Monte de Piedad is another story, and has another building as well, albeit smaller than the present Don Roman Santos building or the original one storey sructure. Like this Don Roman Santos building, it is also in a sorry state. An art deco theater, Cine Astor Theater, also used to stand beside it. Unfortunately the art deco building is a goner now.

I see with my little eye... after the Don Roman Santos and Santa Cruz buildings, there is an annoying hotdog high-rise structure, the well-cared-for Regina Building, and the equally adaptively-reused First United or the Perez-Samanillo Building. That is Escolta Street!

I suppose the topic would inevitably discuss an interrelationship—and eventually a matrix of historical events—and that those past events and structures shaped the places and lives we live today. After all, a structure cannot be detailed merely on its own, but by how the environment affects it and vice versa; how it affects its millieu. For now, at least, with the half-dead postwar Santa Cruz building on the other side, the Don Roman Santos building greets commuters and locals silently with more stories waiting to be known again, to Escolta in Manila and back.

Images without markings are available at Commons, but since it is released under a Creative Commons Share-Alike license, you may repost them but kindly cite "Higad Rail Fan" of Wikimedia Commons.

#manila #philippines #don roman santos building #trivia #heritage #heritage building #neoclassical #neoclassical architecture #architecture #commons #sta cruz #carriedo #escolta #downtown manila #kasaysayan #writeup #urbanistangge

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dcnnafms · 5 years ago

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* taps the mic * testing , testing , 1 , 2 , 3 .... hello ? * clears throat * hi guys & gals & non binary pals !! i’m taylor weighing in at the solid age of 20 years old aka a glorified teenager because really what can i do that a 19 year old can’t lmao ? i’m from the est & couldn’t be more excited to have found this beautiful gem of a roleplay ! honestly i haven’t been this excited about a group in ... forever ! so i cannot wait to start roleplaying with you all ! but for now i’m going to leave you with this intro because i’m going to the pats game tonight ?! and need to run & get ready because my friends are on the way ! without further ado though , i think it’s time for me to introduce you to my lil baby donna who i haven’t played in like 7 months so please bare with me here while i find my footing with her again ! if you’d like to plot just give this a like or shoot me an im & i promise i’ll get back to you when i get home later tonight !

note : here career is here in this post btw !

╰ stats . ◞,

click here for the statistics page .

╰ pinterest . ◞,

click here for the pinterest page .

╰ playlist . ◞,

1. let you go by machine gun kelly , 2. bmo by ari lennox , 3. death by trippie redd ft. dababy , 4. agree to disagree by sleeping with siren , 5. night shift by dave east ft. lil baby , 6. violent crimes by kanye west , 7. runaway by aurora , 8. love song by lana del rey , 9. all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish , 10. i think im okay by machine gun kelly ft. yungblood , 11. envy me by calboy , 12. cash s**t by megan thee stallion ft. dababy , 13. yellow hearts by ant sanders , 14. what to do? by jackboys ft. don toliver , 15. the git up by blanco brown , 16. erase your social by lil uzi vert , 17. everything i wanted by billie eilish , 18. bandit by juice wrld ft youngboy never broke again , 19. bop by dababy , 20. candy by machine gun kelly ft. trippie redd .

╰ biography . ◞,

an only child born to a secretary for a mother & an often unemployed father in athens , ohio in late 1996 . life for young donna was nothing out of any film you would enjoy watching . a childhood full of neglect & growing up much too fast for your own good . her father , matthew , had fallen into heavy addiction just a year before donna’s birth & her mother , denise , had learned to bury her sorrows with a bottle of alcohol . well below the poverty index there were many nights she knew she wouldn’t come home to food on the table but instead a slew of addicts getting their high in the middle of the living room , keeping the young girl up at all times of the night with their rowdy antics .

by the time she reached third grade she’d learned that her day at school would go over much more smoothly if she made sure she had her backpack, coat & on the one off chance that there was enough food in the house pack her lunch , because if she waited for one of her parents to do it for her she’d never make it to school on time . her mom often had to rush to work in a hungover state & her father didn’t wake up until after she was already due for school , so donna had relied on the bus to get to & from school each day .

at twelve she’d realized that she was much happier the less time she spent at home & so she did all she could to stay out with her friends . she became one of those kids you passed wondering where their parents were at that time of night as them & their friends wreaked havoc in the streets of athens . picking up smoking weed at the ripe age of thirteen , she quickly learned nothing was a better fix for how much she’d hated her life than a quick blunt . she’d fallen into a dark place at a very young age & from her perspective there was really no way out of the downward spiral she had fallen into . she blamed her parents for messing her up so badly & often when she was home it turned into blows between herself & her parents the end result always landed her at one of her friends houses for the night.

it wasn’t until she was fifteen that she befriended a new girl whose parents took a liking to donna & really took her in . it was something like a safe haven spot for her , somewhere she always knew she could go & they’d want to hear about her day or feed her . they’re the ones who learned of donna’s wanting to join the school theater club & urged her to do so . they attended her first performance & her second, third , fourth , etc .

one of her performances at the school garnered the attention of a screenwriter who felt she was a perfect fit for a character they were in the process of creating . this was when her first hollywood deal came , initially turning it down as she had no means to so much as leave the city of athens forget travel to an entirely different state . the screenwriter offered to take care of her completely & before she knew it she was working on the first installment of the hunger games .

when she got back to athens after spending a few months in los angeles she’d realized just how much potential there was out in the world . at this point she decided to take things within her life a bit more seriously . there was a life outside of athens , ohio & donna was craving for it now . making the conscious decision to focus on her schooling with the hopes that she’d be able to get into a decent university . college had never been so much as thought for donna before she’d left the city but after filming a movie , she realized almost anything was possible even for someone like her .

during this same year , her parents split up & her father got back together with his highschool sweetheart , this prompted her father to admit to donna that she had a brother who was three years older than her , who was actually in college . the two got to know one another fairly well when he’d come back home from school during breaks & the two found themselves loving the idea of having a sibling . mutually upset that they’d spent so much of their time not knowing each other so much as existed . donna lived with her father & step-mother amanda in athens & the change in her father was more than visible . she was more than happy that her father had gotten on the straight & narrow , no matter what had to take place for it to happen & who he needed in his life for it to take place . in this time her mother moved to cincinnati & the separation actually made the relationship between donna & her mother stronger .

in 2014 , she graduated from highschool & had committed to attending ohio state university as a theater major . during her time in columbus , ohio she & her new found friends took a liking to the downtown area where they found a hidden gem bar that often held open mic nights . this is where donna was really able to cultivate her love for stand up , despite dabbling in it a few times back in high school & whenever she was out in los angeles . she took to college well & somehow managed to juggle her education , career & social life fairly well . if you ask her how she did it , she’ll always give all the credit to her brother brody & maybe some residual credit to weed .

in her sophomore year she’d fallen in love for the very first time , with one of the quarterbacks at her university . they dated for two years before he’d decided to transfer to lousiana state university . she understood why he did it , he had a career in football he was chasing & she couldn’t be mad at him about that . despite the long distance & at times very hectic schedules between the two of them she worked on being the most supportive girlfriend she could to him & made it out to any & every game she possibly could of his .

after graduating from ohio state she moved down to lousiana in hopes to be with him more but her career kind of kept going & so she was nearly in louisiana just as often as she had been before moving down there. they made it work for a good amount of time , but the distance just started to become a little too much . donna is someone who craves affection after a childhood of not much affection to be sparred . she caught herself at times during the relationship on the verge of cheating , but she is a staunch believer that if you truly love someone you could never do something of that magnitude to them . it was a mutual break up , that came in the early months of 2019 .

she’s now been living in calabasas since she moved out of louisiana & is learning to get back onto her feet without someone there to uplift her .

╰ scandal . ◞,

on december 23rd of 2019 a sex tape with donna’s name plastered all over it had been released online . it was a sex tape of her & her ex who by this time has cemented himself as the likely first round pick in the nfl draft . the sex tape took off & it seemed as though every time her team managed to get it down , it popped up somewhere else . both donna & her ex knew neither one was to blame for the leaking of the sex tape & so they worked together to figure out who was behind it , today their getting closer & closer to finding the person who did it . despite this , the tape is still able to be viewed on the internet it you dig hard enough . although not many have to do that as it had gone vial upon it’s initial release back in december .

#cala.intro #<333333

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shijiujun · 6 years ago

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[ENG] History3: Trapped Novel - Chapter Six

~5,000 words (proofread by @weilongfu)

Translation Masterpost can be found here

Disclaimer: Translations are entirely mine and Wei’s - these are not official translations and some phrases have been changed for better English interpretation so you’ll definitely see better/different translations elsewhere. Also keeping in mind when we translated this we aren’t exactly thinking about the style of writing and this translation is as close to the novel as we can make it XD So yes, some parts may be a little awkward to read. And yes some teeny weeny details and words may not turn up in the translation because the Chi to Eng mind acrobatics didn’t work out. If you see asterisks, scroll all the way to the bottom for notes!

Full chapter below the cut

Chapter Six

Hospital

Tang Yi and Dao Yi both sprint into the emergency room and see Jiang Jin Tang, who’s wrapping up Hong Ye’s wounds.

“Hong Ye!”

“Ah Yi?”

Tang Yi rushes forward immediately and hugs Hong Ye, who’s sitting up in the hospital bed.

“How is she?”

As he’s treating her wounds, Dr Jiang explains the situation, “There are a few abrasions, I’ve already prescribed some medicine for that. And because we are afraid that she may have a concussion from trauma to the head, so we’ve also done a brain MRI, and now we’re waiting for the report to come out.”

Realising that Hong Ye was mostly fine, both men release huge sighs, relieved. Dao Yi’s tightly clenched fist at his side also relaxes gradually.

“That gun was just pointing at us… I was really scared, my mind just went blank-”

A nurse comes over with swift steps and goes over to Dr Jiang’s side, and reports, anxious, “Dr Jiang, the other patient has been wheeled into the operating theater, Dr Zheng hopes that you can go over right now.”

“Okay, I’m going now.”

Dr Jiang’s expression is somber, and just as he’s about to turn to leave, Tang Yi grabs onto his arm.

“Is it Meng Shao Fei?”

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen, his Glasgow coma score is 3♯.”

The man wearing his doctor’s robes answers, then moves Tang Yi’s hand off of his arm, before following the nurse quickly into the operating theatre. The doors of the emergency room slide open once again, revealing Captain Shi and the rest of Team 3, who were informed about Shao Fei’s injury earlier. Their expressions all reflect panic and worry - even Yu Qi’s eyes are red, and she’s obviously cried a few times on the way here.

Captain Shi rushes straight for the desk and grabs onto the nearest nurse to ask, “Meng Shao Fei, where’s Officer Meng?”

“Officer Meng was shot in the abdomen, he’s currently still in surgery.”

Standing on the side, Zhao Zi is unable to hide his panic either and asks, anxious, “How did he get shot?”

“We’re not very sure either. Please wait at the side, and don’t obstruct the way into the emergency room.”

Captain Shi looks up, about to find a place to sit, when he sees a particular someone in the waiting area. He walks forward angrily, and without saying a word, Captain Shi directly slams his fist on the other’s face.

“Tang Yi! I agree to let Ah Fei protect you, but he’s not for you to use as a shield for bullets! Why did this happen? Why?”

Blaming himself for it all, Tang Yi does not resist - his eyes do not land on Captain Shi even once, and his expression is so cold and distant that he almost looks like a nonchalant outsider. Only those who know him well like Hong Ye and Dao Yi understand, that the man in front of them is in a state of absolute fury.

“Tang Yi you listen carefully, you better pray that nothing happens to Shao Fei, otherwise I won’t stand on ceremony and will arrest you to the police station!”

“Boss, don’t be like this! Boss!”

Zhao Zi and Jun Wei hold onto the captain’s arms on each side, and drag the fuming man away from the emergency room, that is packed with plenty of other patients and their family members. The last one to walk in is Ah Zhi. Right before he leaves, he turns and sends Ah De a look at the doors to the emergency room. Ah De subtly shakes his head at him, before turning his gaze back to Tang Yi seated in the plastic chair and who is staring straight ahead.

The Tang Household

Having just returned home from the hospital, Ah De follows closely behind Tang Yi up the stairs. Jack, who’s been waiting there since earlier, takes the initiative and approaches Tang Yi first, “Boss.”

“Where’s he?”

“Inside.”

Tang Yi’s footsteps do not cease as he angrily tears his suit jacket off of him, the garment dropping to the ground. Ah De picks it up and hangs it over his arm, his expression revealing both anxiety and unease.

The moment the door to the room opens, they see the man who attacked Hong Ye and Shao Fei earlier tied to a chair in the room, gagged with a piece of cloth. Once the man sees Tang Yi’s expression, he immediately begins to struggle and shout.

“Get out.”

Knowing that Tang Yi intends to torture the man personally, Ah De immediately stops in front of him. He says, “Boss, let me do it. Don’t dirty your hands.”

“Get out,” the words leave Tang Yi’s throat softer than before, but his tone this time leaves a chill down everyone’s spine.

“This small matter, I can handle it-”

Ah De does not get a chance to complete his sentence before he’s viciously shoved to the wall. Glaring at the subordinate who has interrupted him repeatedly, Tang Yi glares at the man.

“He dared to touch my people, and you call it a small matter? Then what is a ��big matter’?”

“I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn. I’ll leave right now.”

Having followed Tang Yi for so many years, this is the second time Ah De has seen such an expression on Tang Yi’s face - the first time, was four years ago when Tang Yi woke up in the ICU ward, only to be given the news that Boss Tang was dead. Ah De knows that he can no longer say anything. All he can do is hold onto the suit jacket in his hands and leave the room, feeling panicked.

The merciless expression on Tang Yi’s face is akin to a grim reaper just as it’s about to wield its scythe - he grabs at the man’s jaw and smiles coldly, “Hold on just a little longer. I’ll definitely let you listen to the sound of your ribs breaking one by one.”

Wearing his spiked brass knuckles on his dominant right hand, the man tied to the chair is so fearful that he soils himself, his pants stained with the evidence of his shame and also the unpleasant stench.

Outside of the room, Ah De is unable to sit still and instead paces outside the door, wanting to know what’s going on inside, then also looking at his phone from time to time, as if waiting for someone’s reply.

Jack calmly plays with the butterfly knife in his hands, and speaks, “Don’t worry. He won’t beat him to death. Boss knows this much at least.”

If the man is beaten to death, then he cannot reveal any clues. The trick is to beat him until he thinks he will die in the next moment, but leave him that tiny, little glimpse of survival. Only then can they get the answers they need. This is what Jack learnt from the battlefield, and this is also the logic he used on himself when he was captured as a hostage and interrogated. Even if he was at his limits, he remembered that there is no reason for him to be loose-lipped, because once he tells the truth he no longer has any value. And people without any value and use will truly walk towards certain death.

“Why would I be worried about that fucker?”

“Oh? Then I must be mistaken. I saw that you were so nervous, I thought both of you knew each other.”

“What do you mean? What do you mean by I know him? Who does he think he is, do you think I will know a small fry like him?”

Jack looks at the man who has suddenly switched moods, then smiles, “De Ge, don’t get so angry. I’m hardly being serious here, don’t take it to heart and don’t listen too closely.”

Ah De suddenly grabs onto Jack’s butterfly knife in his grasp and warns sternly, “Some things cannot be said for the fun of it. Also, be careful of your knife.”

At this moment, Ah De’s quiet phone sounds with an incoming message and quickly leaves. A few minutes later, Jack deftly keeps his knife and walks over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. With his smiling eyes that scream anything but friendly, he watches as Ah De drives out of the house.

Restaurant booth

“Why did you only just return my texts, he’s already been caught by Boss,” Ah De says to the person who’s been waiting there for a while, the moment he opens the door and walks into the booth.

Hong Ye coldly looks at the man who hurriedly closes the door, and asks, “Li Zhi De, did you really want to kill me?”

“I didn’t! The plan was just as I discussed with CEO Zuo previously. We’ll pretend that your attacker is your competition from the bid* and I already instructed them to use only sticks to teach Meng Shao Fei a lesson, to make him look like he can’t protect anyone at all, that’s al!”

Hong Ye picks up the glass of red wine, and with sharp eyes scrutinising the other’s every reaction, she continues, “Sticks? But he was holding a gun. That time, you were the one who said you could chase Meng Shao Fei away and that’s why I reluctantly cooperated with you. In the end, this show has turned out to be farce. Or… did you have other motives for this?”

“CEO Zuo, how could I have any other motives? I really don’t know why it has turned out like this. I called and confirmed it earlier, before my people got to the carpark everything had already happened. Those people weren’t sent by me. I wanted to take care of these small fries by myself, but who knew Boss would do it personally, and I didn’t expect that Boss would have such an extreme reaction towards Meng Shao Fei getting hurt…”

That very last sentence, Ah De says through gritted teeth.

At his words, Hong Ye, who was cutting through a slice of blue cheese with her fork, freezes. Taking a deep breath, she picks up her handbag from the couch, and with a raised eyebrow, she says to Ah De, “In any case, the show is over. If that guy says anything to Ah Yi, you’re on your own.”

“CEO Zuo! CEO Zuo!”

Ah De shouts after her in a panic, but he can only watch as the woman leaves the booth without a backwards glance.

The Tang Household - Balcony

Tang Yi, who hates the smell of cigarette smoke, smokes one now - something that happens rarely. His sleeves are folded all the way to his elbows, still stained with dried blood.

Jack walks to the balcony and speaks, “He’s been sent to the hospital to Dr. Jiang already. Does Boss already know who sent him?”

Tang Yi’s eyes are filled with murderous intent and his gaze sweeps towards the red-haired man. Jack shrugs and smiles, “I’m simply curious what person wants to die so much that he dared to touch the person Boss cares about the most.”

Tang Yi does not reply immediately. Instead, he draws a cigarette out of its box and lights it with his lighter, watching as the white rings of smoke float into the air and dissipate. Then in a voice coloured with resentment, he spits, “Chen. Wen. Hao.”

“It was him after all.”

Having gotten his answer, Jack’s eyes move to the side and watch the brass knuckles settled on the surface of the table still stained with dried blood, and secretly makes his plans.

Restaurant parking lot

Hong Ye walks towards the parking lot, but sees Dao Yi, who’s already standing next to her car.

“What are you doing here?”

“Boss already found out who sent the men who shot at you.”

“Is that so?”

Expressionless, she moves towards the driver’s seat, not want Dao Yi to realise that this was hers and Li Zhi De’s plan, but she hears an unexpected answer.

“Chen Wen Hao.”

Hong Ye heaves a sigh of relief on the inside, and pretends to be calm as she says, “I already told Ah Yi that he should be careful with that old fox.”

“Miss, this time you were lucky that nothing worse happened. I understand that you want to protect Boss, but getting our brothers to hurt yourself, what if something actually happened? We will be very upset and hurt.”

Hong Ye looks at the man who already knows everything, and stops playing the fool. Instead, she goes straight to the reason for doing it.

“Ever since Ah Yi met hat cop, nothing good has happened. I’m protecting him in my own way, what right do you have to accuse me?”

Dao Yi exhales heavily, and calmly replies. “You’ve seen Boss’ reaction towards him. If you’re really thinking about Boss, then let him handle his relationship with Meng Shao Fei. I don’t wish to see you get hurt.”

“You don’t want to see me get hurt?” Hong Ye looks at him, her eyes bitter and asks, “Do you know who has hurt me the most? It’s you, Gu Dao Yi!”

The man averts his gaze and is silent for a few moments.

“Let me send you home.”

He walks towards the left side of the car, about to open the door and sit in the driver’s seat and prepared to send the person most important to him safely home, but Hong Ye slaps his hand away in anger.

With tears running down her face, she yells, “Everytime we get to this topic you hide! Why can’t you face the feelings that I have for you? I just want to say, I like you, Zuo Hong Ye likes Gu Dao Yi!”

“Miss, it’s only because I’ve taken care of you for so many years, so you’re mistaken habit and dependence as liking me.”

“I’m definitely not mistaken! I’ve liked you since I was young, I’ve had a crush on you and also confessed to you for so many years! How could I be mistaken?”

“Miss…”

“Right. You’re right. It’s habit. I’m used to you treating me well, used to you taking care of me, used to you cleaning up my messes, and then I thought habit was me liking you… Very good. I’m awake now…”

Prideful, Hong Ye has tolerated one rejection after another, and yet today all she has gotten is this embarrassing situation. So she lifts her chin up, inhaling deep, and speaks, “You being nice to me is because Boss Tang asked you to. If that’s the case, let’s end it here. These past few years have been hard on you, Uncle Dao Yi.”

Pushing aside Dao Yi who’s standing next to the door, she sits on the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. She starts the engine of her blue car and drives out of the restaurant’s parking lot.

Dao Yi stands in the parking lot and watches Hong Ye’s car leave.

Hospital corridor

“Toothbrush, shampoo, cup, hot flask, ah! I forgot to bring the hot flask…. Is Ah Fei awake?”

Carrying a bag filled with a change of clothes and some necessities, Zhao Zi walks to the hospital room Shao Fei is in. Opening the door and taking a look, he immediately freezes.

Inside the room, Tang Yi stands at the end of the bed watching an unconscious Shao Fei, still under anaesthesia. Hearing the noise made from the door opening, his icy gaze shifts, and Zhao Zi immediately shivers. Timidly, he retreats out of the room and even closes the door shut on his way out.

Standing outside the door, Zhao Zi pats at his chest and hammering heart. “Oh my god, why is he here? I.. better visit later then.”

He picks up the bag, deciding that he will first go somewhere near the hospital to eat something first, then circle around the area a few times before he comes back to visit Shao Fei.

Inside the room, Tang Yi quietly holds Shao Fei’s hand - the one without the IV drip - and gazes intently at Shao Fei’s face, so pale due to the loss of too much blood.

“Meng Shao Fei,” Tang Yi softly calls the person who’s already become the most important person to him.

The man lying in bed moves the fingers clasped in Tang Yi’s hand, then slowly opens his eyes and looks at the blurry but familiar figure before him. Unconsciously, his lips curve up.

“Poker face.”*

Saying those words with a smile, Shao Fei closes his eyes, incredibly at ease, and slips back into sleep.

“You see? It has a dead face like yours, I’m giving this to you. Hold onto it!”

Tang Yi cannot help but laugh at the thought of their conversation then, and takes the keychain out from his suit. Since the day he lost control and beat the culprit who shot Shao Fei half to death and tossed him to Jiang Jin Tang afterwards, Tang Yi has been carrying the keychain with him, along with the lighter that Boss Tang gave him.** Shao Fei gave it to him, this skeleton keychain.

Looking at the man in the hospital bed, Tang Yi is unable to move his gaze from Shao Fei for a long while.

Outside the hospital

Just as he’s leaving the hospital through its doors, his path is blocked off by a car that suddenly pulls its brakes and stops in front of him.

Jack, who’s been following closely behind Tang Yi since they left the hospital room, immediately stands in a bodyguard’s position, shielding Tang Yi at his front, ready to attack at anytime.

A man alights the car and with an expression of calm, gestures towards the open car door and welcomes Tang Yi in. Politely, he says, “Mr. Tang, Boss Chen wants to see you.”

Jack moves to touch his butterfly knife, but immediately after a gun is pressed at his waist belonging to another subordinate. The clean and smooth movement is familiar to Jack - obviously, these are moves taught to him also by the army.

“Just as well. I have something I would like to ask Boss Chen as well.”

Tang Yi looks towards Jack and with his eyes, hint at Jack to not return the attack. Then, he moves into the backseat, and is sent to a Chinese tea room by Chen Wen Hao’s subordinates.

In the tea room

“We finally meet.”

The man who controls the drug network and supply in Cambodia looks just like any other elder, and with a smile he welcomes the young Xing Tian Meng leader, who was ‘invited’ here.

“If you’ve got anything to say, then get to the point. I don’t like to beat around the bush,” Tang Yi says, expressionless as he kneels on the tatami mat of the tea room.”

“Good!” Chen Wen Hao says, impressed. “We return to others what has been done to us. That has always been a rule in our world, and since you picked on my subordinate, Wang Kun Cheng, so I retaliated with Zuo Hong Ye. But now that Zuo Hong Ye is fine, it seems like I’m on the losing end of this.”

“What do you want?”

“I hear that Tang Guo Dong raised you up himself, and he treats you like his son.”

Deliberately using a nonchalant tone, Chen Wen Hao tries to find out the truth about the rumor that Tang Yi is Tang Guo Dong’s secret son***, but Tang Yi does not react to the sentence.

Chen Wen Hao picks up his tea and drinks, then continues, “I once treated Tang Guo Dong as my family, and I even went to jail for him willingly. I didn’t expect him to have a son and then not tell me. Then again, according to the ranks in Xing Tian Meng, you should call me ‘Uncle’ as well.”

“Of course. Those who Xing Tian Meng re indebted to, I definitely will treat them as family… but those who betray Xing Tian Meng, no matter who they are, I will make him pay the price,” Tang Yi smiles, responding to Chen Wen Hao, who for some reason keeps focusing on the topic of Boss Tang.

“Since we’re all family, why not let’s make a deal.”

Chen Wen Hao looks at the unflappable young man who reveals no emotion no matter how Chen Wen Hao tries to sound him out, and gives up on asking about the relationship between Tang Yi and Boss Tang. Changing the subject, he talks business instead.

“I don’t intend to be Xing Tian Meng’s enemy. After all, this is not my territory, what’s more important is to be able to make money. I can forget what happened with Wang Kun Cheng and everything that happened before. We’ll treat it that we didn’t know each other then. From today onwards, I can reject all of Xing Tian Meng’s orders. I do my own business, you reform your organisation, we don’t touch each other’s territory. How’s that?”

Filling up a cup with hot tea, he slides it across the table until it’s settled before Tang Yi.

“It’s a deal!”

Tang Yi raises the cup in Chen Wen Hao’s direction, and the man raises his own cup as well. They down the cup in one go, then turn the cups over to show that no drop of tea is left in their cups.

Chen Wen Hao eyes curve as he smiles, and looking at the young man seated in front of him, he says, “Good! I’ll introduce you to someone next time, this person will be very helpful to your legal business.”

“Thank you Boss Chen,” he smiles at the old fox who has finally been led back here after years of planning, placing the cup back on the table.

Hospital roof

“Fuck! So suffocating!” Shao Fei shouts to the sky, who’s sitting on a wheelchair and was pushed up to the roof for some air by Tang Yi.

Tang Yi stands on the roof, gazing at the view in the distance, and says, “Thank you for saving Hong Ye.”

“Please, I’m a cop! This is what I’m supposed to do.”

“But…” Tang Yi returns his gaze to the person next to him, and frowning, he continues, “Don’t let this happen a second time.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to lose another friend.”

“Hey! I’ve been upgraded? From half a friend to a friend? Oh, ouch ouch ouch ouch-”

Shao Fei, who was almost at death’s door, enjoys less than three seconds of happiness, before he’s yelling out in pain from pulling at this wound.

“Are you okay? Let me bring you to a doctor.”

Concern written all over his face, Tang Yi anxiously looks at Shao Fei, who’s pressing at his abdomen. Shao Fei is bent at the waist, lightly holding onto where he pulled at his wound and pitifully, he implores, “I just came out and you want me to go back? Please let me have some more air, please, please.”

Tang Yi smiles, shaking his head. Gazing into the other person’s eyes and with a somber expression, he says, “Meng Shao Fei, I’m very happy that you’re still alive. Although you’ve been opposing me constantly in the past four years, but until the moment I was standing in front of the operating room and seeing how pale you were, in a deep, induced coma, I realised… I don’t want to lose you.”

The person listening to this recalls the moment he realised his own feelings for Tang Yi, the night that he cried out of hurt and pain. Shao Fei thought that in the other person’s eyes, he wasn’t even a ‘friend’, but now hearing the confession that Tang Yi didn’t want to lose him.

“You made my life so different and let me experienced warmth again. So I hope that you will live well, even if it’s just for my sake-”

Tang Yi continues to speak, not realising that the person next to him has teared up, his eyes all red. Suddenly, an arm hooks around his neck and lips press to his.

Until they’re almost breathless, only then does Shao Fei finish the kiss and stands from the wheelchair. He walks towards the roof’s shorter wall in front of him and looks towards the clear skies, then turns around and points at the Xing Tian Meng leader, who is sporting an indescribable and complex expression right now.

Full of sincerity and being so serious, Shao Fei says, “Tang Yi! I’m chasing you for sure!”

He will not be like the female characters in an idol drama where she is indecisive and counts the petals on a flower, but also eventually doesn’t dare to take the step to chase after her own happiness.****

No matter who he, Meng Shao Fei, likes, he doesn’t care for anyone else’s opinion. Even if the other person is a male, even if he’s Xing Tian Meng’s boss, even if the underworld and cops are from two different worlds, Shao Fei wants to trap Tang Yi’s person, and have Tang Yi’s heart as well. And-

He will never regret it!

The Tang Household

Tang Yi sits behind his office desk that is illuminated only by a desk lamp, looking at the lighter and skeleton keychain on the table. He recalls what Boss Tang once told him…

“Promise me, if one of these days, you can only choose between yourself and Xing Tian Meng, then give up Xing Tian meng.”

“I’m already prepared to-”

“Just leave that to me, you shouldn’t be the one to have it. Xing Tian Meng was established by your uncles and I, and we have a duty to keep it alive but also die with it. And you don’t.”

“Because I don’t have the right?”

“No, because you still have a future,” Tang Guo Dong smiles and caresses the top of his head.

“Silly boy! There are a lot of precious things in life that’s worth you chasing after, do you understand that?”

“Like what?”

“Love. If you’ve never been in love, you haven’t actually live life properly.”

The man reaches out with his finger and lightly pokes at Tang Yi’s chest, over his heart.

“Every person in life was born lacking one rib, and that rib grows on the person you like. Maybe you think it doesn’t matter right now, but I hope that one day you will understand what happiness is like loving someone. When that happens, don’t forget to let me see what you rib looks like. I hope you will that person won’t be like you, with an icy expression on their faces all the time…”

Tang Yi presses at his chest, right over his heart where Boss Tang once poked at and recalls everything that has happened between him and Shao Fei these past four years. He picks up the skeleton keychain, and makes a decision.*****

Hospital

Busy with helping Shao Fei pack after settling his discharge papers, Zhao Zi and Yu Qi look up to see the Xing Tian Meng leader walking into the room.

Bringing up her courage, Yu Qi opens her arms and blocks his path, and says, “What are you doing here? We don’t welcome you here.”

Although she doesn’t know what the other person is going to do, in any case, she must not let this man close to Shao Fei, because everytime something happens to Shao Fei, this man is always involved.

“Tang Yi, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to give you an answer.”

“What answer?”

Zhao Zi scratches the back of his head and dumbly asks Jack, who’s followed at Tang Yi’s back and entered the room as well. Jack doesn’t reply, only pinching at Zhao Zi’s cheek with a smile.

Shao Fei nervously looks at the person walking towards him, not sure what kind of answer he will give him.

The next second, Tang Yi imitates the action that Shao Fei did on the rooftop a few days ago - he hooks his arm around the back of Shao Fei’s neck and pulls him close, and in front of the other three people, he kisses Shao Fei’s lips.

So startled Zhao Zi and Yu Qi are that heavy breathing sounds being to come from the both of them, their eyes wide and staring at everything that’s happening before them, speechless. On the other hand, Jack who’s standing on the side with his arms crossed, looks upon the scene with amusement.

“Meng Shao Fei, I want you!”

“We’ll see who will get the other person first!” Shao Fei declares, arrogantly lifting his chin up, and looking at the man who so certainly confessed to him.

♯Glasgow Coma Scale is usually used for helping to assess and quickly describe levels of consciousness in injured people, primarily looking at how impared the brain is by looking at the ability to open eyes, respond verbally, and respond with motor skills. A score of 3 is pretty damn low and means that Shao Fei is not doing well. When the book says he was probably close to death, they mean it!

https://www.nursingtimes.net/Journals/2014/10/10/n/p/l/141015Forty-years-on-updating-the-Glasgow-coma-scale.pdf

https://www.glasgowcomascale.org/

*In the previous chapters, I wrote ‘dead person’s face’ as a literal translation, but in this case, he’s calling Tang Yi that as a name of sorts and not a description, so I’ve switched to ‘poker face’ as a term rather ‘dead person’s face’ or ‘like a dead person’ kind of thing… sorry if it’s confusing!

**WE DID NOT GET THIS LITTLE GEM IN THE SHOW AND OMG that is possibly the sweetest thing ever?!!

***Think in usual cases we’ll call him a bastard i.e. a son had by a woman that Boss Tang never married

****What have you been watching, Shao Fei?!!!!

*****I really like this detail?!!!! And the way the flashback worked in this case because basically Tang Yi symbolically chose Shao Fei over Xing Tian Meng by picking up the keychain, just as Boss Tang said omg

#history 3: 圈套 #history3圈套 #history 3: trapped #history3: trap #history3 novel #translations #ch 6 is finally up sorry for the wait

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stanley-the-magpie · 6 years ago

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Explaining The Archive 81 Universe and Timeline Pt. 1

Now, this is no easy feat. Archive 81 has three seasons, and a two-part interlude (Golden Age). [Edit: And now a three-parter!] Which, I'm not doing the math, is a lot of content. (And I've listened to every episode at least thrice, so I should know what I'm talking about but don't expect anything of substance.) There is a main important rule to state before we get deeper: Everything important in this universe is recorded on a tape.

I will start with the shaky timeline I created while waiting for the third season to be released, and this whole universe starts, canonically, in the '30s. This is the start of it all; the Golden Age. These events don't seem important until tying it to Season 3 (don't worry, we'll get there). We enter upon the scene of the meeting for the Quicksilver Theater, which is the acting company run by Oscar Waters. Oscar asks if the equipment is set up, while we meet the character Mark, who we should be familiar with because of the seasons before and his integration in them. We then get the names of the other two actors in the room with Oscar and Mark: Patricia and Alice.

They start to test the microphones, with some small talk between the actors and Oscar. Now, the only interesting part besides the power dynamic between all of these characters is Patricia asking Oscar why he was suddenly inclined to record a rehearsal, which does keep the main rule of the universe in check. Oscar gives a very roundabout answer to that question, still stating that it is vital to record, which you can tell is only specific to this radio play. There is a somewhat easier answer to swallow after that broad statement,

OSCAR: It will shape the broadcast, shape the experience, shape the story. When we perform this play over the airwaves, it must be perfect, and thus, the recording.

Oscar believes that this show is crucial to theatre and that it will make him important in the eyes of the people. Patricia doesn't exactly like the way he states that because he implies that it's only about himself, which is very true. (Oscar and Michael Waters are very similar, and I could go on and on about them.) The actors then reveal that they had this rehearsal with no idea of what they were actually performing, as Oscar did not reveal anything of the sort. The scripts are in wax sealed envelopes, which, if you are in theatrics you know that is very melodramatic. It seems very unusual but no one thinks anything of it, which is quite funny. Oscar goes onto explain that the scripts were not meant to be open until the first and only rehearsal, and there is the use for a 'foley-man' which is why Mark is there. The 'foley-man' role is mainly to work with the composition of music, acting as tech and stage manager, with some final things that will come to light after the performance.

Then they are given the name of the radio play: Wingbeats. Which, in my opinion, sounds really bitchin'. All of the actors unseal their scripts and they start to read off the introduction, which is great because Marc just uses a thunder sound to make some spooky emphasis. There is some exposition that sounds really like a ritual set-up, but we are going to ignore the even number and the nicknames given to the actors. Now the nicknames are fun: Oscar is the King, Patricia is the Queen, Alice is the Dancer, and Marc is Setting. These names are actual functioning character names for the story that will become their version of Wingbeats.

The interesting thing about Wingbeats is that it is very much based on the people who perform it. They have to make the stories feel real,

OSCAR: Because in truth, all stories are real, in truth, they have already happened.

This very much applies to why the audience is hearing this now, these actions have already occurred, and they are as true as the stories you heard in Season 1 and 2. It's really cohesive for putting that mindset into the people listening and reading the episode.

They continue, Oscar, reading the rest of the introduction, we learn that this show is very much impromptu and desperately depends on the actors and the audience to exist. Wingbeats consist of three scenes which will be completely made up of real events but also made up by the actors. Patricia isn't exactly happy about that fact. They move to the page about Scene 1, which is the King is supposed to explain to the company how he came to acquire the play, with possible accompaniment by Setting. Oscar starts to explain that he was Europe in the year before (1937), being interrupted by Patricia asking him why he was there. Oscar reveals that he was in Europe for personal discovery before any sort of war could break out. (My personal theory is this was the catalyst for Michael getting into the eldritch stuff.) He explains that he was exploring Paris alone, which doesn't help in this case because Dead Signals have proved that you don't have to be a special person to run into the esoteric arts in this universe. Oscar continues on, explaining how he stumbled into a desolate music and script shop run by these two twin sisters, which is totally not creepy. The woman is very much non-memorable as Oscar cannot remember if they were young or old, he only remembers the eccentricities of how they spoke. Now the conversation from then on is not that important because some of it is just Oscar relaying his experience in the shop and explaining his work to the women.

They shortly after give him Wingbeats and state that is the thing he has been looking for. Little does he know it was also thing someone else had been looking for, but that's not important until later.

The next scene they talk through is the interesting one: the Dancer's childhood. Specifically: a point in her childhood which is "pivotal in her development". Alice deflects, saying her childhood would not be that interesting, and the rest of the company do not agree and they continue on. Alice describes some of the conditions in her childhood: she was an only child, and she grew up on a farm outside of Black River Falls, Wisconsin (which is a real place). (Also another note: Alice says they never had as many cows as everyone else and when you tie it to the theory that her parents were into the esoteric arts, then it makes sense. Some of those rituals require those types of sacrifices. I'm pretty sure it's true, but this is all speculation.) Oscar and Patricia ask her what would make her want to leave, as up and moving to New York would not come unwarranted. The usual getting out of small town talk happens, and lord do I know what Alice means. She was scared of being stuck, married to a farmer and anxious about if she will be able to live a life without much duress. They move onto her parents; Alice explaining that her father is a stern who likes a life of order and rules and somewhat of a helicopter parent and has somewhat that usual small town fragile masculinity.

Alice's mother is a different story, her mother was apparently very hard working as she did all the farm paperwork and most likely all the bills and taxes. She seemed very inhuman as the life looked drained from her skin, and she believed that Alice looks nothing like her.

ALICE: ..., that the only reason she knew I was her daughter was that she'd seen the birth herself.

The pivotal scene is the reaction to their cows coming down with foot and mouth, which means they had to kill the cows to stop the spread. Alice had overheard her parents talking about what they had to do, Alice comes in the room to ask. Patricia and Oscar start the scene, with some idle dialogue (which is not the most important to the story), Alice comes into the conversation. Patricia gets Alice some fake milk and they start to have a conversation about the cows and how they were sick, the conversation shifts into a conversation about the attic. Now, this throws Alice into a tizzy, and I'm pretty sure her freak out was very much out of character.

The creepy thing about the attic is that it doesn't house corpses or anything awful, Alice reveals that it is a portal to a city. The City, to be specific. This makes me sound like a crazy person, but I made this theory up by using information that comes (early if you go by release standards, later by timeline standards) up when discussing the motives for the Historical Housing Committee of New York State.

Now the third scene is the least creepy, and it requires all four players to be in the production and Setting to make music according to the messages of an unnamed messenger. The King, Queen, and Dancer are in a decrepit palace, the throne room showing signs of wear and tear. They sit up on their folly, as apparently, an unnamed messenger comes with news of riots near the borders. There is an unnamed man who wants to start these riots. The King does not believe the message is very useful and tells the Dancer to chase him away. The Dancer does not do that, as when the Messenger speaks she sees visions. The Messenger continues, she sees visions of a ballroom of dancers dressed in yellow. She wants to join but a small voice in the back of her head tells her she shouldn't, in which the voice sounds like her mother. Alice starts to have a panic attack as she is unable to see the faces of the dancers. End scene.

If you don't like color symbolism you can skip this paragraph, because I think Marc and Dan did something really cool with this and I want to talk about it! Usually, ballrooms have endless colors because of the dresses and masks, but for some reason, in this vision, there is only yellow. I looked into what yellow usually symbolizes and it works really well with the background Alice gave in Scene 2. We are never told what shade the yellow is, but I'm assuming it will be a bright and obnoxious shade. That usually symbolizes positivity, happiness, joy, and clarity. Looking at the environment that Alice grew up in, it was never overwhelmingly positive or happy, she only had small mercies while growing up. The voice in her head sounding like her mother helps push this symbolism because her mother was very stuffy and cold. Her mother did not support frivolous things, and dances like those of a ballroom variety could be seen as very ridiculous if you do not have the money for it. Her childhood was never as bright as those shades of yellow, she never got to live her life with that shade of yellow. Now, I hate color symbolism essays as much as the next guy, but this was done effectively without having to look into everything about the story.

It's time for Scene 4! Which, according to Oscar, should not exist! The whole scene is supposed to consist of Setting asking the actors a question they are supposed to answer by looking back on the scenes they have made earlier in the rehearsal, answering the question of where they believe Scene 4 to take place. The King answers first; a stage that is endless behind him with the audience in comfortable velvet seats, they are ready to be amazed. The audience is wrapped in yellow rags, which I choose to believe means that the audience is envious of Oscar because of his talent, or that they are happy to be in the theater. It's not as clear as the dancers. The Queen answers second; Patricia is hesitant but answers nonetheless because of the coercion from Mark.

Patricia sees a small tavern from a fishing village, it's damp and soggy with the quiet fisherman who is hiding a secret. There is something that the town must hide, while the darkness is seeping into their bones they shiver and hold on tight. The last to answer is the Dancer. Alice's answer is short and simple: the Attic.

Thus ends the rehearsal, in which Mark states the rest of the information vital to the play. He is to write the final script in one week, and it needs to be performed in at least two weeks after it is finished. Knowing Oscar, his reaction to this information is something easily predictable because he likes to have control over everything, and is very much a narcissistic human being. He does not enjoy putting himself in someone else's hands and likes to demean the ones he believes are below him as a person. Alice starts to fight Oscar on who should write the script because she likes the idea of Mark writing it, and Oscar reveals he only hired her because of "pliability".

ALICE: Oscar, if you don't let him write the script, then you aren't really performing the play, are you? You're performing some...

MARK: Abomination.

Patricia somewhat joins in on berating Oscar because she does see his ways and does not want to waste her time. She ends her statement quoting Oscar because he is not practicing what he preaches. Mark's next statement is one that, if you are paying attention, will fully tell you what is going on.

MARK: Oscar Waters, the play is a ritual. It is like all stories in that way. And specific instructions must be followed in order for it to have its proper impact. To touch and alter the minds of the people listening to it.

Oscar is still against the idea, but Mark convinces him by saying he is good at doing what needs to be done. Which, knowing the future of this show, makes me nervous as all hell. Now, since we have finished the first part of the Golden Age, let's move onto the second part which holds the final version of Wingbeats.

This part starts with the message of which station is being used to broadcast it, I don't think there is any implication or affiliation with the cryptic arts. Oscar starts off with a small monologue that sounds so much like some of the rituals in Season 3. Immediately we are sent to a commercial, in which we are met with Richard Thalberg, who talks about Amber Duke cigarettes. If any of you have listened to What's the Frequency? then this commercial is somewhat similar in style (albeit they are different because of their overarching story structure) to the way that show runs. It's still in the Archive 81 format and is a lot more creepy because of way Dead Signals treats it. I also have a theory about what is actually a part of Amber Duke cigarettes, but that's for when we actually discuss Season 3. (Which is a long way away...)

We return to the play, starting in Paris, 1937. A man, Oscar, enters a shop to get out of the rain. He meets two eccentric women, one playing the piano while the other handles the counter. They start a conversation with Oscar, the sisters switching off during sentences when it becomes too tricky to play the piano and speak. Oscar starts to peruse the store, continuing the conversation with the sisters. He believes that their store is interesting, considering half the scheme is books & scripts while the other is music and musical instruments. They explain they both oversee the thing they love, in which Patricia states that they are going to end up at the same place because both music and theatre are stories. Oscar does his boast and talks about how he directs, writes, and acts.

The sisters do not know anything of Oscar when he talks about two of his shows (which are both productions of Shakespeare), and then starts to talk about how he wants to produce radio plays when he gets back to New York (it's always New York isn't it?). I'm just going to say this, a lot of this idle chat and I don't think some it is exactly relevant (unless Marc or Dan say otherwise), except for the fact it is building up the setting.

I do want to make a note and talk about a small smidget of information that is sewn in this part of the play aka Bertolt Brecht. Now, if you are not into a lot of European theatre or theatre, in general, you will not recognize the name. I didn't know his name because I am not into a lot of European plays. When rereading the script I thought something that specific must be something important or just a small easter egg for those into post-WWII theatre. Looking into him at first I was perplexed of why they would have him directly referenced in the script considering a quick scroll through his life on Wikipedia isn't that interesting besides the fact he was in America during the Red Scare and was blacklisted from movie studios before going in front of HUAC. It didn't catch my eye much until I read down to his form of theatre: Epic Theatre.

The way Epic Theatre flows is that is doesn't want you to connect with the characters emotionally, because it would leave them being content with the ending and who they are as people. Which I personally find really relevant to the way that Nicholas is written, and somewhat how the story is told overall in the series. Archive 81 is not told as a story but told as a way to make the listener uneasy. It is explained in the Wikipedia article that Epic Theatre was made to make sure the audience did not reach an emotional catharsis that would leave them complacent and content with the fake reality displayed in front of them. The point of this kind of story-telling is to get the audience to realize they can change their own reality and to fight against social injustice, which can sort of be seen in some of Archive 81. It’s less social injustice they are fighting, but things that want to kill them for, which is a monomyth and Epic Theatre hybrid. They do not make you feel satisfied, they make you see something real. The story is not supposed to be in a line, because nothing in real life is ever that straight forward. It’s one of the things I admire that Dead Signals does.

So, after that small tangent on that easter egg, let’s return to the main storyline. Oscar is in the twins’ Music-and-Theatre shop, talking to them. It is mostly a repeat of what was talked about in the rehearsal. The twins give Oscar the script with additional copies for his company. There is a little bit more dialogue exchanged, and then it moves onto a short commercial break. We are once back again with Amber Duke cigarettes! They are always allusive and I have a theory about what is in the cigarettes (which I can explain fully when we reach Season 3). After the break, we are once again shifted back into the story!

It starts in Black River Falls, a small farm off the side of a dirt road. Patricia and Oscar start the scene while talking about the cows, and the insurance they could claim because of the disease. It’s a basic small talk between two individuals that are under some duress because of their lifestyle is in jeopardy. Patrick (aka Oscar) in this scene starts going off about getting a “red cent” from Mutual, which when looking up the definition of red cent it takes on an interesting connotation. Red cent usually means, which means a small amount, which assumes that Patrick [Oscar] believes that their insurance will only give them a minimal amount. This disbelief in their insurance is concluded with a statement that if they see a red cent then he hopes the creatures from below come up and cause havoc. In which Martha’s [Patricia] response is interesting,

PATRICIA: You know words are gateways for those types of creature!

Which y’know, I personally find that intriguing, because they really push the importance of wording in this series. Considering a lot of the series includes rituals, phonetics is extremely important. You must be able to say the words correctly, with intent, and in the correct order. We can come back to how sometimes the wording in this play is very, very specific. (It has to do with the ending...) Now, enter young Alice, who was caught eavesdropping. She gets more “milk” and intrudes in on the conversation. She asks her “parents” why they had to kill their cows, in which Patrick [Oscar] responds,

OSCAR: We’re godsfearing people Alice, we fear gods. We fear leviathans. And rightfully so.

Now, that sounds very odd considering most farm folks believe in one god, but that’s only an assumption on my part. The odd part of the actual statement is the leviathans. To the people reading this thing without prior knowledge of any of the seasons won’t get why this is important separate information. We learn around Season 2 that in the water surrounding and underneath The City has leviathans. They are relevant because they cause fear in the many, many esoteric groups surrounding the Archive 81 universe.

Switching back to the radio play, Alice starts to ask about the cows. I only bring this up again because her phrasing is what made me consider that her upbringing wasn’t one of the average small town girl:

ALICE: What did we sacrifice them for? Now we ain’t gonna have a farm no more.

This is the main evidence of my theory that Alice’s family were tied to the esoteric arts for some reason, or most likely just Mark messing with our perception of them. The wording of that phrase was too important for me to overlook because if they have a disease it isn’t sacrifice. They are stopping an epidemic. It only gets weirder as Martha [Patricia] tries to get Alice to go back to bed. Patrick [Oscar] says some existential shit, “...[n]one of us are, we’re just the shadows of greater things livin’ in a world of shadows”, which kind of fucks you up in a sense (9). I personally think it’s a part of the ritual that this whole set up has been. Which shouldn’t be a surprise? The rest of his short-termed monologue is very much a ritualistic diatribe.

The conversation derails to the attic, again. Small talk ensues, in which we get more information on the attic: Alice has been in there before, it messes with her memories, and that she needs to keep it in the world. This really pushes my theory that the attic is tied to the travelers of The City, or that it is a portal like the Visser building (which we’ll cover soon).

Also, I wanted to go on a short tangent that Dead Signals loves counting steps as a method of measurement and it continues to make me excited every time it is included. For those who are unfamiliar with one of DS’s first projects, The Deep Vault, the character Jeremy counts the steps going down the bunker. (I totally didn’t add this section because I love gushing about Jeremy Thompson and John Maher) So yeah, if Marc or Dan are reading this, The Deep Vault is perfect and neither of you can say otherwise.

Moving on, after we finish the scene in the attic, CBS goes back to another commercial break. Lo and behold, another Amber Duke cigarettes ad. To be honest, it’s one of the more fucked up ones, so yeah, fun.

After the short ad, we are transported to a royal court. It’s supposed to be lavish, beautiful craftsmanship in every piece. The problem is that everything is rotting. Dust litters every surface in a semi-thin film. Inhabitants of the hall sit and dance, being jovial in their hovel. An unnamed Messenger interrupts the King and Queen. He brings upon a message of the chaos of the outer lands: the people are in revolt, whispers appear in their ears from creatures that are faceless with hands of glass and wings made of blood and feathers. The Queen is bored, she wants to ignore the Messenger. The King wants to do nothing, as he believes there is no problem to be had. His people should be grateful for him allowing them to exist in his kingdom.

We are told by the Messenger that the people are hungry, they starve in the streets while the royalty eats feasts. They are starting to realize that the system they live in is broken; the reality they live in is different than the stories they’ve been told. The people can no longer cope with this system. It’s harmful to their development as people. That severed connection is causing utter anarchism, beings talking about doom, violence breaks out. The countryside burns as we speak, as we listen.

The audience learns of a thief-king, an old enemy who waits in anticipation for their downfall. The King and Queen find it preposterous for that man to want more: they had paid him off and given him land. The Messenger continues, stating:

MARK: [laughs] Men like the thief-king are never satisfied. Men like the thief-king believe they are the only truly real beings in the world and they will not stop until their tumescent psyches hold sway over every being they see before them. The thief-king does not see reason, he views himself as reason and power and justice and truth and everything and-

I personally love how powerful that statement is, and the fact that the King [Oscar] interrupts him, makes me laugh. The Messenger just described the King himself, as well as his bastard son [Michael]. They are commandeering men who believe they are above it all, that they are the only true things on this earth. The thief-king is who Oscar Waters is. The King does not enjoy the description, so he sends for Dancer to chase this “unheralded” messenger. She is unable to because she sees visions when he speaks. The ballroom returns, as it was an original visage from before.

Dancer sees more, though. Oscar breaks character and tries to interfere, as this was not how he wanted the play to go. They continue after Mark keeps them on track. Dancer starts to explain what she sees: the Curator’s Museum, a Choir, roads, people, and leviathans. Mark explains that she sees The City, and we further learn that her parents had prepared her for this day. It is the main evidence towards my theory that her parents were fully into occult shit.

MARK: Rituals to make other rituals.

Alice is becoming a vessel for the contents of The City universe. Mark wants her to try and control it, contain it. She is unable to. Oscar tries to interrupt, but the radio starts to go haywire. We are met with a laughing Richard, who starts to muse about the black lung from Amber Duke, and how good they taste. We all die anyway...

We get shifted to an old-timey ad, one that made me incredibly excited to listen to. (I love Dan, okay.) The Announcer makes a small spiel about Dan, how he is the Mechanical Man, fleeing LMG. He is also fighting crime now? I don’t know. I would kill for a noir drama of Dan with his robot attachments. We are taken back to Oscar for a brief moment but what he says is something that makes no absolute sense.

Now we shift to the most fucked part of meeting Richard Thalberg. He laughs maniacally while talking about killing his father with a cigarette to the eye. It’s really fucked, but it still works so well with the Dead Signals aesthetic. We are then taken back to Mark, and he starts to explain what this was all for: for him to help Dan. As I’ve already stated, the whole play was a ritual, which could’ve already been implied by the way it reflected the people in the play. Now, Mark would do anything to help Dan, but we learn that he no longer has free will and that is how he time traveled to do this ritual.

There is more to this than just helping Dan, as this play was the catalyst for one of the most formidable suppliers in the occult shit, Patricia Roland. After she watches the events unfold of this ritual she decides to get lost in the esoteric world. We are not exactly met with her a lot until Season 3, but she is as popular as the Curator in the esoteric shit. It’s kind of interesting.

It doesn’t end there, this ritual does not come out without sacrifice. Oscar and Alice are scathed, which leads them to have a disgruntled child by the name of Michael. (He’s a huge dick.) There is something to say that Mark lost more than he gained but now he is a multi-being that is powerful enough to find his--their--best friend, so maybe he just gained a shitton more? He lost his humanity, but now they can help Dan. If they can, at all.

A quick thank you to anyone who lasted through this whole post because oh my god it got incredibly long! The next part of the timeline to be included will be the Visser building part of Season 1. I’m quite sure the Season 1, 2, and 3 bits will be the longest ones for this series. I’m sorry if any of this seemed incoherent or obnoxious, and I’m expecting that probably I speak like a hyperactive puppy so if you have any questions, send ‘em in! I plan to continue this series, but it’s going to take me a bit to go through Season 1 (and some of Season 2) for the full storyline following Melody. I am excited to see where this goes!

#archive 81 #explanation #archive 81 explanation #audio drama #i am quite annoying #stream of consciousness #explaining the whole archive 81 universe

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lotusunset · 7 years ago

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The Kiss

A/N: There’s no accompanying picture this time cause I can’t art today out of rage but here’s another snippet from my AU where Christine is the ugly one. This was written more as practice for feeling out the world itself and trying to make sure Christine and Erik still sounded like themselves. I don’t expect their actual first kiss will play out like this in the story proper but who knows! It’s still a fun little piece.

She hardly knows what has happened when the sharp, cool air slaps her naked face. She gasps in shock, one hand instinctively reaching for the mask that’s been stolen from her, the other attempting to hide the worst of her horrible face.

But he holds the mask far above her head, out of reach. He catches her wrist and refuses to let her hide from him. His fingers trace up the length of her arm until they are curled around the back of her neck, tangling in her hair.

Then her breath is stolen again, for he bends down and surges forward, pressing his perfect lips against the mottled skin of her mouth and Christine hardly knows what to do. Being touched in any sort of manner is foreign. Being touched like this...her heart is pounding so furiously against her chest that she can’t even form a proper thought.

Still, his lips move against hers and he pulls her small frame more firmly against him. Her arms fall around his shoulders, but she can’t kiss him back. Fear creeps back into her mind; if she moves anymore, this will surely prove to be a dream. Or a nightmare, for there have to be consequences to this, unforeseen complications that--

Christine regains her strength in that moment. Her nails dig into the fabric of his coat and she pulls him away. She reels backwards, unable to keep from staring at him. The expression on his absurdly handsome face is full of confusion. Did he think that this would end well? That he could just steal her mask and everything would work out in his favor? What did he think would happen?

When she can no longer take his piercing stare, she pushes him away and crumples to the floor in a heap of black skirts. She buries her face in her hands to hide. Hide her ugliness, hide the tears now falling freely from the corners of her sunken eyes.

“What are you doing? Why would you do that?” She shrieks at him. Erik’s eyes follow her form towards the floor. She can still feel them burning through her. In his hands, he still clutches her silken mask, thumbs gently caressing the soft fabric.

“Don’t you know that a draugr can steal your soul? C-Can kill you with nothing more than their touch? I can put a curse on you and everyone you love, on everyone in this theater or, or--” Christine cries out, gasping for breath. “I will drive you mad, absolutely insane, and then I’ll drink your blood so I can keep on being a horrible, undead creature for all eternity!”

Her hands don’t very effectively cover her features, Erik watches and waits for her tears to ebb. He says nothing until her breaths have evened out.

And still, he holds her precious mask hostage.

“Are you quite finished?” He asks her calmly.

“Finished with what? Declaring my intentions as the resident monster to eat you alive? Because I’m just getting--”

“Cease with this, Christine. I tire of these antics. I know you far too well to be intimidated by such empty threats,” Erik’s patience has begun wearing thin.

“They aren’t empty! I am a terrifying beast of a creature and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give me back the mask and go away!”

“You really believe that, don’t you,” he states. The truth of it perplexes him; he has found her so endlessly fascinating since the moment their paths crossed. A ray of sunshine dressed up like a shadow. His brows knit together as he tucks the mask into a pocket in his coat. He very much intends on not returning it quite yet.

“What else am I to believe, hmm? My father was killed because of me! Because of what I am and, and what I can do, and you should go away before you get killed, too!” Her tears begin anew and Erik refuses to idly watch this time. When most of the world has taught her that her only value is how horrible she is, it’d be a logical conclusion to come to. He intends to prove her wrong. Before she has a chance to protest, he lifts her back up to her feet. A small squeak escapes her as she regains her balance.

“Christine,” he speaks her name, drawing out each syllable into soft velvet. He covers her small, skeletal hands with his broad palms. His thumbs gently caress her skin, brushing over her knuckles in hopes of soothing her.

“You cannot drive me insane, I am already quite mad,” he says, slowly tugging her hands away from her face. She chokes on a breath. She hates being this vulnerable, being trapped and cornered and being forced to confront the feelings in her gut that have been brewing for this man.

“If you cursed everyone in this theater, I’d be far more likely to laugh at their misfortune than be mortified.” Little by little, she relaxes under his touch, as he stares at her hideousness as if it is perfectly normal. When he is sure that she will not try to hide again, he releases her hands and instead holds her face. Her skin is so pale and thin, yet soft and beautiful.

“And if this is how I am to die, then let me perish.”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. His hands steady her back to center and she covers his hands with her own. The thought of pushing him away again lingers but before she can make a decision, he kisses her again. Softer and sweeter this time, slower and with more reverence. She still flounders under her own conflicting thoughts but she doesn’t scream in utter shock.

Christine has given so little thought into what she wants in this regard. Why dwell on an impossibility? But it’s so hard to argue with him when his lips are distracting hers. How can he be so confident in effectively damning himself? What on Earth could he possibly gain?

She also realizes, as his lips slide against hers over and over, that she may never have an opportunity like this ever again. Her hands fall and grasp at the lapels of his coat, pulling him down and pulling him closer. He kisses her harder, their teeth briefly clack together because of her inexperience and a hungry growl pours from his mouth into hers.

And so as he devours her, she decides to be equally selfish.

#phantom of the opera #poto #e/c #erik and christine #the-emmay #Draugr AU #first kiss #fanfic #maybe this silly thing will cheer someone up over all this tumblr madness #ugh

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doomonfilm · 7 years ago

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Ranking : Top Films of 2018

Here we are... that moment that every critic simultaneously loves and dreads : the Year-End Top 10 List. At worst, we are forced to scrape the creative dredges and cobble together something that resembles a best of list that will bring glory and honor to the year. At best (like this year), we are forced to leave personal favorites in the dust and judge the larger quantity of offerings on a much tougher scale in order to truly represent the top quality work of the year.

As I’ve said in many pieces this year, 2018 was a joy in terms of being a film-lover. This list was not an easy undertaking, and it more so resembles a snapshot of how I’ve felt over a judging period than it does a concrete group of selections in a fixed order. Take this list as more of a jumping off point for discovery than you do the gospel of DOOMonFILM.

Note : I am not sure when I will get a chance to see Vice or The Favourite, which I am sure will skew my results once I do see them... I will address those films in their respective reviews, however. Forgive me in advance.

Honorable Mentions

Damsel Even if the Zellner Brothers weren’t representing Austin beautifully with this gem of a film, it’d still be on my radar simply for the fact that it is a unique twist on a genre that most figured had seen every presentation imaginable. Add to that a strong female lead character, and you’ve got a winner on your hands.

The Endless A science-fiction modern day classic, and apparently part of a possibly bigger line of stories (with some of the best integration of aspects from another film I’ve ever seen). This film is chilling in its approach to the concept of cults, as well as its use of the concept of ‘the danger that lurks just off-screen’.

Isle of Dogs Had this year not been full of stellar animated films, this one probably would have made the main list. More groundbreaking animated films, combined with personal feelings about the films of Wes Anderson, however, regulated this one to Honorable Mention status.

Mid90s I was all set for Eighth Grade to be my bit of nostalgia, or my reflection on what it’s like to be a kid again, and for what it’s worth, it was a great film. The thing is, Mid90s directly spoke to me in a way that Eighth Grade unfortunately could not, simply because Mid90s was like looking in a time-traveling mirror.

Thoroughbreds I really wanted this to be on my top 10, but ultimately, it was too ‘quiet’ of a film to make it in a year full of big noise. Thoroughbreds will certainly be a future favorite for public screenings and friend viewings, but a couple of films this year hit the same notes on a higher frequency.

Black Panther The cultural impact of this film is one that cannot be ignored. It took February, a month that is generally a box office bust, and it put up unparalleled numbers that not only lasted throughout the year, but were topped from within rather than by another Hollywood studio. The respect given to the characters and their African heritage did not go unnoticed, either, as several think-pieces and a number of curriculum were spawned from those researching elements of the production design. The narrative is strong, and it righted the Marvel villain boat prior to the big MCU bombshell that was lying in wait.

The Favourite I really wanted this to make the top 10 of the year... I thought long and hard about what film I should remove or replace. What I came to realize, however, is that despite The Favourite being a world-class comedy and production, it simply falls short in the realm of the spectacular : it does not contain visual innovations, it is not a reflection of the times, and it didn’t completely break my brain. That being said, on any given day, I’d happily name this one of the top 10 films of 2018... it’s essentially like having 11 cakes on the table and having to pick the 10 best.

Avengers : Infinity War This movie was the true film event of the year. Marvel has been building up to this singular event for nearly two decades, and in my opinion, the payoff more than succeeded. Thanos tiptoed the line between anti-hero and villain with purpose perfectly, and the rapport between characters worked both in terms of advancing narratives and being mined for humor. I am definitely looking forward to Avengers : Endgame this April, and I know the masses are right there with me.

10. BlacKkKlansman

Not that I ever doubted Spike Lee had it, but after a few abstract offerings and documentaries, one wonders if their style can translate into an ever-expanding world of film language. Luckily for Lee, it seems the world has grown into his cinematic vision, with an older true story serving as the perfect backbone for many of Lee’s trademark tricks to be implemented for maximum effect. The ending will put you in tears if you have anything closely resembling a soul.

9. Blindspotting

This film really deserved a bigger run than it got, as it hit race relations of today on the nose without coming off as preachy or heavy-handed. Daveed Diggs proved that his charisma translated on both stage and screen, and his integration of hip-hop into both realms will hopefully have positive long-lasting effects. The chemistry between all members of this cast is kinetic, the story is told with perfect pacing, and the movie rides visual highs that match the narrative ones. I would love to see this movie receive some high-degree nominations.

8. Annihilation

I came into 2018 with high expectations for this film, as I’d spent the previous 16 months or so completing the Southern Reach trilogy in its book form. Then I started hearing things about the production and the release that gave me a bad feeling : a Netflix distribution deal that seemed to all but kill a true theatrical run, trepidation from the studio in regards to the director’s vision, and other whispers that attempt to sink a film. Then I saw this movie, and was taken away to a completely different world. We may not be getting a faithful, trilogy-length adaptation of the series anymore based on what happens in Annihilation, but if these are the moments I’m left with, I’d consider myself happy in the long run.

7. First Reformed

It took me longer than I intended to get around to this one, but knowing that Paul Schrader wrote and directed it made it a must-see. The film was drawing comparisons to Taxi Driver (not a surprise, based on the aforementioned Schrader involvement), and surprisingly, it more than lived up to that hype. The tension is equal, but updated to reflect the times in a way that could impact any of us.

6. Suspiria

This movie will make it extremely hard for me to blanket-debate against remakes simply because it does all of the right things in regards to updating a classic. The film does not rely on existence as a new millenium version of an old film... rather, it boldly takes concepts only touched upon in the original and fully embraces them, presenting a true psychological horror gem in a year full of them. The film also looks amazing on top of everything, which was a high bar to meet considering the original movie is basically driven by its visual style. A 2018 must-see, film buff or not.

5. Spiderman : Into the Spider-Verse

Easily the most fun I’ve had in a theater all year. I was blown away by the animation, and can’t wait to see further installments of the Spider-verse specifically to see how that enhances over the years. There was such a high volume of homage and Easter Egg placement in this film that it warrants repeat viewings, and it was one of a handful of films that I wanted to instantly own as I was walking out of the theater.

4. Mandy

Like Spider-Man : Into the Spider-verse, I wanted to own this movie the second I walked out of the theater as well. The trailers intrigued me, a recommendation of Beyond the Black Rainbow fully sold me, and the final product did not disappoint. This film certainly is not for everyone, and funny enough, the two biggest aspects that would place it on that ‘not for everyone’ list sit in opposition of one another : the film is a bit indulgent on the style at the sake of what would be considered normal pacing, and it has some extremely violent moments. That being said, Mandy is easily one of, if not THE, most beautiful films of the year.

3. Roma

This seems like the closest thing to a Fellini film that us modern day film lovers will ever get. The story itself is intriguing, as it juxtaposes class issues, political issues and the barrier of trying to raise a family in a crazy world all in an intriguing tapestry. The cinematography is calculated, observational, and the choice to film the movie in black and white adds an instant timeless quality to it. Director Alfonso Cuaron even manages to get in a little cinematic and visual humor, albeit mostly subtly, but it definitely pays off if you’re in tune to what he’s doing. Easily one of the best pictures of the year, worldwide, and a party that I was certainly late to.

2. You Were Never Really Here

If Mandy is a bit too over the top for your tastes, then You Were Never Really Here may be the jarring experience you need in 2018. This film is almost as visually stunning, but the narrative is far more calculating, deceptive and intriguing, both on the surface and as you dig deeper. The hectic camera setups, editing and score put you in such a disjointed state of mind that Joaquin Phoenix becomes the only thing you can hang on to, and your involvement in his journey is completely immersive. In a year of performances that focus on the anti-hero, this film found a way to scrape to the top of the pile.

1. Hereditary

Something strange is happening here... who would have thought that a horror film would be my favorite film of the year? Hereditary is no run of the mill horror film, however... it treats its audience as intelligent, and there is so much texture in the film that it’s impossible to see it all without multiple viewings. The close of the first third of the film is horribly unsettling, but it propels the narrative forward so abruptly and intensely that you’re locked in from there out. A genius film, and an instant classic.

(Editor’s notes)

- Original post date : 12/27/18 - Revision date : 1/8/19 (Roma added to position 3, Black Panther moved to Honorable Mentions) - Revision date : 1/10/19 (The Favourite added to Honorable Mentions) - Revision date : 1/22/19 (Suspiria added to position 6,Avengers : Infinity War moved to Honorable Mentions)

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #TopFilms2018 #Damsel #TheEndless #IsleOfDogs #Mid90s #Thoroughbreds #BlackPanther #BlacKkKlansman #Blindspotting #AvengersInfinityWar #Annihilation #FirstReformed #Spider-ManIntoTheSpider-Verse #Mandy #YouWereNeverReallyHere #Hereditary

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