#I would have loved to see how her acting translated onto the stage but unfortunately couldn't find video

[thechanelmuse]

TW: rape

‘I May Destroy You,’ Michaela Coel’s gimlet-eyed exploration of trauma and its myriad ripple effects follows Arabella (Coel) — a funny, messy, sharp-as-hell London writer — after a dizzying night in which she’s drugged and raped by a stranger. At first, she dismisses the hazy memory as just an upsetting image in her head. Soon enough, though, Arabella reluctantly comes to understand it as the truth, and tries to work through that horrifying reality without coming apart. [...]

Not every part of Arabella has a direct line to Coel, but the series’ catalyzing experience, unfortunately, does. In 2016, Coel took a break from a marathon writing session for the second season of “Chewing Gum” to grab a drink with a friend, and was drugged and assaulted by a stranger. She’s been sifting through the emotional wreckage ever since to find some kind of clarity, if not peace. Now, with “I May Destroy You,” she’s doing it for all the world to see. “As a fellow android exploring what it means to be human,” says Coel’s friend Janelle Monáe, “watching Michaela be vulnerable on-screen as she walks in her truth gives me and so many the bravery to walk in ours.” [...]

Coel began writing “I May Destroy You” in February 2017, in between acting in TV projects like the “USS Callister” episode of “Black Mirror” and Netflix’s limited series “Black Earth Rising.” She took solo mountain trips and wrote draft after draft of what would eventually become “I May Destroy You,” spilling her stories and tangled guts onto the page, rearranging them into shapes she could better recognize. In August 2018, she spoke about her trauma publicly while delivering the Edinburgh International Television Festival’s James MacTaggart Memorial Lecture, a prestigious assignment the festival has otherwise bestowed on a cadre of white British television mainstays (as well as no fewer than three Murdochs). 

The majority of Coel’s speech, delivered to a room of the U.K.’s most powerful entertainment brokers, traced the constant racism and classism she endured on the way to that Edinburgh stage — a theme subtextually underlined by the fact that Coel was, and remains, the only Black woman to have that platform. She spoke about turning her solo play “Chewing Gum Dreams” into a “Chewing Gum” TV series (which aired 2015-17 on the U.K.’s Channel 4), a transformative time that taught her the technicalities of making television and confirmed just how disinclined certain white gatekeepers are to trust a poorer Black woman’s vision. Toward the end of the 50-minute lecture, Coel revealed her assault and elucidated the industry’s inability — or unwillingness — to handle such a human emergency when pages are due. As for her recovery, she said, “It’s been therapeutic to write about it, and actively twist a narrative of pain into something with more hope, and even humor.”

When it finally came time to translate it all to the screen, “I May Destroy You” was so close to her bruised heart that Coel took on the challenge of playing several roles throughout the series’ development: creator, writer, actor, producer, director. Netflix offered her a total fee of a cool $1 million to make and star in the show, but the proposed contract wouldn’t grant Coel even a tiny percentage of the rights. She hadn’t fully realized how much claiming legal proprietorship over her work mattered to her until the prospect of not being able to emerged, at which point it became crucial. 

Then, after some Googling, she realized that her CAA agents would also be profiting from the deal via the endangered practice of packaging. Stung and surprised, Coel walked away from both her agents and the offer. “I’m not anti-Netflix,” she’s quick to say now, “but I am pro-‘the creator, writer, director, actor should probably have a right.’” She’s hyper-aware of how much this project required of her, and how comparatively little granting her “a right” might cost a powerful network like Netflix. “That’s not quite fair, is it?” Coel muses. Creating the show, after all, took almost everything she had.

With the BBC, a million-dollar paycheck might not have been in the cards, but more important to Coel, she didn’t have to fight half as hard to claim ownership. (As a matter of industry course, it’s far more common for British studios to afford creators rights to their work than it is for American equivalents.) They struck a deal, and Coel got to work.[...]

“When you’re restricted,” she explains, “sometimes that’s where you find great things: in the lack of possibility.” She attributes this rather Zen approach to Hugo Blick, the “Black Earth Rising” showrunner who showed her the value of keeping a cool, empathetic head on set. Blick’s ability to step away from a gnarly situation for even 30 calming seconds is one that Coel has worked to hone for herself, especially while steering a series with such fraught ties to her history. No matter how sideways things might go, she never wants to forget just how much she loves the collaborative act of building a television show, wild complications and all. 

Read more

From Forbes:

I May Destroy You’s Michaela Coel Rejected Netflix’s $1 Million Offer In Favor Of The BBC Because Of Ownership

The creative, who stars as Arabella and wrote all 12 episodes, started pitching the programme in the spring of 2017 with one of her first ports of call being Netflix who picked up her prior series Chewing Gum.

Though Netflix offered a generous upfront fee of $1 million (£800,000), the sum had strings attached, including full rights ownership away from the creator, something Coel pushed back against. Coel recalls a moment during the interview where she is speaking with a Netflix development executive on the phone, asking if she could retain even a very small 0.5% of the copyright to her show.

“There was just silence on the phone. And she said, ‘It’s not how we do things here. Nobody does that, it’s not a big deal,’” Coel recollected. “I said, ‘If it’s not a big deal, then I’d really like to have 5 % of my rights,’” Coel added, stating that she even went down to 2%, and then 1% and even as a final compromise to 0.5%.

Coel remembers that the executive said she would have to run it passed her superiors, before adding, “‘Michaela? I just want you to know I’m really proud of you. You’re doing the right thing.'”

“I remember thinking, I’ve been going down rabbit holes in my head, like people thinking I’m paranoid, I’m acting sketchy, I’m killing off all my agents,” Coel says. “And then she said those words to me, and I finally realized — I’m not crazy. This is crazy.”

Coel discovered her agents, Creative Artists Agency (CAA) were set to make an undisclosed amount from the series if she took the deal with Netflix. She reveals that the agency pushed her to take the deal prior to her finding out and their subsequent dismissal as her U.S. representation.

Taking the project to British broadcaster the BBC later in 2017, Coel found the corporation to be supportive with her maintaining creative control even with the explicit depictions of sex, sexual assault and drug use. Plus, as the broadcaster had to adhere to terms of trade, Coel had no problem with retaining the rights also. The broadcaster also brought HBO to the table as another co-producer to help subsidise a portion of the budget.

Read more

This isn’t about just “knowing your worth;” it’s about knowing the business (your business) and never settling just to secure “something.” A million dollar offer, no copyright ownership and no creative control is beyond disrespectful. Learn the business in whatever field you’re in and stay acclimated with jargon and new, current and old practices. Know your shit. 

It’s like when people say “Get a lawyer” to handle negotiations and look over your paperwork. You pay a lawyer to do a job, but it does not mean you should be oblivious to aspects of law and contract jargon among other things because “that’s what they’re there to do.” You can’t say someone (sometimes lawyers included) screwed you over after you’ve signed the dotted line. They’re protecting and looking out for themselves. Commit to do the same for yourself.

[link4eva]

Kiro’s R&S: Bystanders (Chapters 33-34) Translation [CN]

Hi, y’all! Just a couple of quick notes before you begin reading...

This R&S translation contains spoilers from the CN server for Chapters 33-34 which have not yet been released in the ENG server. So if you don’t wish to be spoiled then please don’t look below the cut! 

The next thing is that I don’t actually know any Chinese myself so this translation was done through the power of Google Translate and with a huge help from the lovely @keliosyfan​ . Thanks so much!! 

Hope you enjoy!~

No matter how the outside world changes, his heart is as pure as always.

[Chapter 1]

That experimental kid.

This is Hephaistos’ first impression of the new Helios.

He first saw this kid, not at the headquarters, but on the TV on the side of the road.

A blonde young man, with a soft smile within his blue eyes, sang a song in English on stage. The camera turned away from the stage. Fans screamed and waved light sticks frantically, the directors and judges on the side were all intoxicated.

Passers-by, who were attracted by the youth’s singing, gathered in front of the TV, obsessively looking at the shining star on the screen.

Only Hephaistos in the crowd stood by with cold eyes. He clearly understands the hypocritical admiration in front of him and what kind of fanatic power he will eventually integrate into his plan. This is the purpose of BLACK SWAN; to promote the symbol of “Kiro” to the public.

What’s so good about this kid’s singing performance? Hephaistos huffed and left uninterestedly.

But that impression would soon be overturned.

The dark alleys are not easy to navigate after the rain. The muddy water and blood mix together to form shallow puddles. Each footstep produces a sticky sound. Hephaistos ordered his men to clean up the mess. He looked to find the silver-haired young man walking out of the shadows and greeted him, “It’s done?”

Helios took a USB flash drive from his pocket and threw it to him: “It’s all here.”

“The new Helios’ methods are much more straightforward than I thought.” Hephaistos looked at the humble gadget in his hand, “It seems that working with you in the future should be easy.”

He stretched out his hand to Helios: “It seems I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Hephaistos, but you’d better not call me by this name. It’s too confusing, and I’m not used to it.”

Helios glanced at the dark-skinned man in front of him. The other party showed him a friendly smile, but his gaze in the nightlight looked like a falcon locked onto its prey, making his nerves instinctively go on high alert.

He nodded but didn’t hold Hephaistos’ hand back: “There’s blood on my hand. Makes it inconvenient.”

Hephaistos expressed his understanding and stepped to the side: “Are you coming back with me to headquarters now?” 

“There’s something else.” Helios obviously didn’t intend to talk to him more, so he left.

Seeing Helios walking away, Hephaistos said: “I’ve heard your song.”

Helios paused and turned his head.

“Although I don’t have much appreciation for music, I still think it’s a good song.” Hephaistos lips formed a slightly playful smile. “Just thinking of someone who can write such sunny and gentle lyrics who is capable of creating such horror in a blink of an eye. I can’t help but feel goosebumps.”

Helios’ expression remained the same: “Are you done talking nonsense?”

“Is this really nonsense? I just thought I’d remind you,” Hephaistos gave a step back. “Since you have returned to the dark, don’t think of the light anymore.”

When Helios heard this statement, his gaze dropped slightly. When he raised it again, his golden pupils were sharp as blades, and they passed the corner of Hephaistos’ crooked smile. However, the murderous intent was taken back by him in an instant.

“Then, let me remind you. Before reminding me, do your own thing first.”

“Of course I will do my own thing.” Hephaistos held the USB up to him, “Don’t worry. You and I are in the same group.”

Helios didn’t respond to this “companion” who suddenly showed up. He didn’t look back at Hephaistos as he turned and left the dark alley. 

“Brat.” Hephaistos clicked his tongue. He added an attribute to his previous impression of Helios in his mind.

The experimental kid that is difficult to deal with.

[Chapter 2]

Hephaistos never felt that BLACK SWAN was set in stone. Just 17 years before, there was a rift in the organization and the eventual addition of Ares and Hades was the fuse that completely detonated the rift.

Although BLACK SWAN did not appear to have any anomalies on the surface, the undercurrent surging underneath the surface had long been divided into two streams by an invisible boulder, both heading towards different goals.

When Hephaistos stood in front of the diverging boulder, he didn’t take much time to think before choosing his own direction. After all, compared with Hades’s paranoia, another “new world” was attractive to him.

Even if his companion was the experimental kid who is difficult to deal with. 

Helios had settled into the organization earlier than him. As one of the main members of the plan, his influence became more and more prominent. The identity of “Kiro” was already a burden to him. Throwing it in the trash is one thing but the reality is another.

A Lincoln slowly drove out of the hall, flanked by crowds. In the crowds, everyone was blurred by the drizzling rain. Only the swinging flashlights in their hands were visible in the night.

“WE LOVE KIRO” *Made some word changes here* Hephaistos glanced out the window and said, “I didn’t understand you at your comeback concert before. Anyway, it was just a farce made by Anole to solve his problem. That’s it, there’s no need to re-enter the stage-life at all.”

Kiro’s comeback to the entertainment world is a major event. It caused a lot of waves and rippled even in BLACK SWAN. But, given that Helios himself has always been a maverick and is now the leader of the organization, everyone only dared to talk secretly. However, Hephaistos is different. He and Helios have had a cooperative relationship from the beginning. Even before the two met, Hephaistos would’ve been happy to dance on Helios’ minefield of a temper.

“Or, did you come back because you still want to enjoy being a big star? Is it fun for you to watch those young girls scream for you?” 

“Shut up.” The man who was still smiling at the fans with an angelic smile was expressionless at this moment. When he heard this sentence, he did not raise his head and continued to tap the keyboard with his fingers.

“Ah, I understand.” Hephaistos suddenly thought of something and grinned. “You are all about that girl.”

Tap.

The crisp sound of the pressing of the ENTER key drowned out all the other sounds in the car cabin.

Helios looked at the calculation results displayed on the screen, his eyes dimmed: “I have my own considerations, and I don’t need others to interfere.”

“I’m not interfering. I’m just making small talk. I was bored anyway.” Hephaistos turned the steering wheel and drove steadily down the road. “Besides, I have to thank you for being “Kiro”, because otherwise, it would have been difficult for us to get an invitation for this banquet.”

Helios didn’t say anything. He quietly looked out the car window. A drizzle of rain ran across the glass, splitting his reflection in the window into countless fragments. At that moment, he no longer seemed to be a “Helios” nor a “Kiro”.

The two were silent for the rest of the way until the towering banquet building finally appeared in the night; like a dormant beast waiting for its prey to mindlessly walk into its trap. Helios just said in a low voice: “Since I’m going to act low-key this time, I can go in alone. You can station yourself outside.”

“No problem.” Hephaistos reminded Helios, “Leto’s tricks up his sleeve are almost all gone. It’s no surprise that this kind of madman will attempt anything at this banquet. Since you are going to bring QUEEN into this banquet, you must get her and bring her out.”

“Of course I will bring her out,” Helios replied, “As you said, everything we do is for the New World. In the New World Project, QUEEN is indispensable.” 

Hephaistos smiled: “It is all for the New World….right?” He pressed the pedal, “The time is near. Go. Don’t let your little dance partner wait for you any longer.”

[Chapter 3]

The rain has stopped.

15 minutes have passed since Helios and QUEEN entered the lobby. However, fans and reporters crowded around and were not willing to disperse anytime soon. Hephaistos, who had not received his next command, continued to hide in the crowd and wait. From time to time, one or two conversations of passers-by floated in his ears, nothing more than that surrounding the dazzling star and his dancing partner.

“Unfortunately I couldn’t see what it looked like….”

“I seem to have taken a picture but something was blocking the view.”

“I really want to be Kiro’s dance partner too!” 

Hephaistos raised the corners of his lips slightly. In the hall, everyone was so occupied with the scene in front of them, paying no mind to the trivial things in the outside world. Hephaistos didn’t know whether to think it ridiculous or sad. As he was looking around, there was a sudden scream coming from the door! *Took some liberties in translation here*

“What’s the matter?”

“What happened?!”

The reporters outside wanted to rush into the hall that was now filled with the scent of blood but were stopped by a line of uniforms that appeared out of nowhere. The perimeter of the building was quickly sealed off. A siege launched inward in an orderly fashion.

“Are the people from NW here too?” Hephaistos asked and a brief command came from his headset: “Leto has acted.”

“Can you handle it?”

“I was slightly delayed by Anole’s trick.” Helios’ sounded slightly out of breath, presumably because he was running, “He shifted into Leto’s form and garnered everyone’s attention. You don’t have to worry about the situation inside. Just wait outside.”

“No problem.” Hephaistos could faintly hear the screams from both his headset and from the inside. It was obvious that the situation inside was not as relaxed as Helios stated it to be. He stepped back slowly and informed Helios: “Right. People from the NW. Moving in soon.”

“....”

“You know?” Hephaistos was surprised for a moment but he also quickly figured it out. If Leto is gone, NW and the Task Force will naturally have to draw a clear line with the loser.

Everyone is in this melee, fighting for their own agendas. He is just a bystander in all this.

Hephaistos took advantage of the commotion and disappeared into the crowd.

Hephaistos didn’t wait long at the agreed pick-up location before he saw Helios walking over from the woods.

He is no longer the blonde he was when he was inside. His silver hair is sprinkled with star-dust like shimmer in the moonlight. It almost seems ethereal. The dried blood on his cheeks was the only indicator that he was in fact not an elven prince who came from the moon but rather a Shura* who had just returned from purgatory.

*Note about Shura from @keliosyfan​* 

The Shura that is mentioned is talking about the Buddhism demigod of war Asura. In Japanese, it's used to describe a person who has to fight an endless war against something in a relentless or inhumane manner. Hephaistos was making a comparison between how Helios (as blonde kiro) went into the banquet all nicely dressed and clean like an elven prince from the moon and then later came out with blood on his face (silver-haired Helios) as if he just fought some bloody battle which he probably did.

Continue

“Nailed it?”

“Leto escaped but he can’t go far.” Helios said faintly, “There is no way he can escape the dog.”

“Yeah. The rest is for the Task Force and they will have a headache. As long as our goal is achieved.” 

Hephaistos asked, “Where is QUEEN?”

“Sent her back.” Helios pondered for a while and decided to share some more information.

“After her Evol was retrieved, her strength became even more powerful and there was not much time left for us.” 

“I understand.” Hephaistos opened the door and motioned Helios to get in.

“Where to next?”

“Go to the temporary headquarters.”

After speaking, Helios climbed into the car. As he passed Hephaistos, Hephaistos suddenly noticed that the rain had stopped a while ago but Helios had water stains on his shoulders.

That seems to be….tears?

[Chapter 4]

The description of the bereaved dog is a bit too good. Under the first-hand news report of QUEEN and the live video uploaded by KEY, Leto’s true face was thoroughly exposed to the public’s eyes. As this is such sensational news, BLACK SWAN was naturally made aware of it.

At this time, many members of BLACK SWAN are on standby in the temporary base. Although they are scattered apart, the center of the crowd is still the young silver-haired man. It seems that wherever he is, he will be the most eye-catching light.

“I just got three pieces of news. One good, one bad, and one really bad. Which one do you want to hear first?”

“Say it if you want to, or shut up if you don’t.”

Hephaistos leaned against the wall and tsked boringly: “Then tell me the good news first. Artemis was also in the banquet hall at the time and was injured.”

Hearing that the members of the same group were injured, Helios didn’t even flinch: “Her life and death have nothing to do with us.”

“That’s true. As for the good news and the bad news, I’ll talk about them at the same time. The good news is that the Special Task Force has surrounded the orphanage. No matter how hard Leto struggles, he’s already dying. The really bad news is that even if he is dying, a dying beast may still be able to bite when crazy. He has threatened to kill all the kidnapped orphans if QUEEN won’t go to speak to him unaccompanied.” Hephaistos said this and paused deliberately.

“Don’t you worry about QUEEN?” 

When he heard the word QUEEN, Helios’ icy appearance seemed to thaw slightly before it quickly froze once more. After a moment of silence, he replied briefly: “I believe in her.”

“Believe in her?” Hephaistos thoughtfully said, “Indeed, if you don’t believe in her, there will be no way to continue.”

He didn’t say anything. Now that QUEEN’s ability has been recovered, this is also an excellent opportunity to observe how much her power can grow.

Hephaistos glanced at a huge device placed behind him. Its shape stood out from the dark environment that it was in. If Hades’s “Return to Zero Plan” was his answer sheet, then this device is of their faction. 

Hephaistos asked in a low voice, “When will our next step begin?”

“The next step is to be done by someone else.”

“Someone else? Is it me? I’m not good at this high-precision work.”

“Of course it’s not you.” Helios glanced at the time. “He’s almost there.”

Ten minutes later, the man Helios had in mind pushed the door open.

Hephaistos didn’t expect to see Ares, the traitor of BLACK SWAN, at the temporary base. He was astonished like everyone else for a moment. When he saw Helios’ unsurprising expression, he quickly calmed down.

Helios said that the person who will take over this next step is actually Ares? In other words, the two of them had been conspiring since a long time ago. He should’ve known sooner.

He even suspected that maybe Ares’ “rebellion” was also the plan made by these two.

Hephaistos looked at the man in black who had walked up to Helios step by step, his palms involuntarily started to sweat. He couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth rose.

Forget it. No matter what these two have in mind, as long as the goal is achieved, he didn’t care that Ares had returned once more.

After thinking about all of this, he coughed slightly and expressed his greeting first: “Ares, welcome back.”

[Chapter 5]

Leto disappeared. Hephaistos was a little surprised when he heard the news and felt it was reasonable.

As a member of the New World Project, he firmly believes that the power of QUEEN is the key to opening everything. No one can predict how huge a door this key can open and what kind of world will be behind that door. Leto’s disappearance is nothing more than a small experiment to test the power of QUEEN. When her power really breaks through, it will be….

Hephaistos turned his gaze back to his hand holding a photo.

Originally, he did a little research out of curiosity about that girl. He didn’t expect the results of his investigation to be so interesting.

The picture shows a couple embracing each other. Except for the man’s eye-catching silver hair, the two are no different from any other couple in the streets. The girl raised her face slightly, with a bright smile, while the man’s eyes were filled with indefinable affection. It was definitely not the expression that someone monitoring QUEEN should have. It was not for show but rather pure love straight from the heart. 

Even Hephaistos, an outsider, can see the attraction and bond between the two.

“So,” Hephaistos whispered, “No wonder you didn’t let me be nosy at the amusement park. No wonder you insisted on taking her in during the banquet. And no wonder you would be so confident in her.”

Hephaistos once thought that loneliness was the true face of Helios, and the sunny “Kiro” on the screen was a mask he wore. But the soft murmur of the silver-haired youth in the car on the day of the banquet, the tears on his shoulders, and the photo in his hand completely broke this perception.

It seems that his impression of Helios can be rewritten again.

Hephaistos felt that until the arrival of the New World, he could use this observation as a leisurely pastime, adding a little bit of fun to being a bystander.

Even if you are in a chess game.

Plunk.

A soft sound from the device behind him interrupted Hephaistos’ thoughts. He walked towards the device and the flickering signal jumped between his pupils. For a while, he truncated through these light spots and saw the endless world.

Hephaistos smiled to himself.

Forget it. No matter what kind of lingering past, what kind of feelings, bond or obsessions Helios and QUEEN have, they will be crushed by the New World the moment they face the end of truth and evolution.

“This is real romance.” Hephaistos sighed and lit the photo without resignation, and threw it in the trash can.

[END]

[balletroyale]

Unpopular opinions 2.0

Unpopular Ballet Opinion: Isabella Boylston has a fun and active personality that—unfortunately—does not translate well into her performances. She’s talented, but she feels more well-suited for contemporary ballet than classical dances.

100% YES | Agree | Sort of Agree | Meh | Don’t Have an Opinion | Disagree | NO WAY

I actually am turned off by her personality sort of overall, but I completely agree with the rest of the sentiment. 

Unpopular opinion: NYCB dancers can do Balanchine like no one else (for obvious reasons, of course), but whenever they try classic after-Petipa choreography, I can’t help but cringe.

100% YES | Agree | Sort of Agree | Meh | Don’t Have an Opinion | Disagree | NO WAY

Mostly because personally I would rather watch Balanchine dancers try classical ballet than Russian dancers try Balanchine. 

The whole “American Dream” notion being applied to ballet bothers me. I mean, yeah anyone can start doing ballet no matter their age, race, gender, sexuality, fitness level etc. But whenever someone asks “I’m [insert age well within the puberty range], I’m thinking of starting ballet. can I be a professional?”, there will always be people going, “Yes of course! [insert famous professionals who started later than their peers] started at 13/14!” or they would list an example of a male professional starting at 18 or something. Those are exceptions to the rule. And men can generally start later than women, but they never specify it or explain the difference. Misty Copeland starting at 13 keeps getting brought up and look how she dances now. It just plants this unrealistic notion of “if they can do it, I can do it too” in people’s heads and then more often than not they end up failing.

100% YES | Agree | Sort of Agree | Meh | Don’t Have an Opinion | Disagree | NO WAY

I completely agree. Yes, there are some examples of dancers who started late but they are few a far between. I think that the line between letting people pursue their dreams and being realistic can be hard to navigate, but you ultimately do more harm than good by blindly encouraging someone. For example, I can think of instagrammers who are 18-20, not in a company or a prestigious school with no experience who still think they will become professional dancers and honestly I feel bad for them. You start wasting your life. 

Dancers who dance as themselves, instead of living the lives of the characters they’re playing on stage, COULD BE boring to watch. Not to say they aren’t amazing, but I am much more interested in dancers with versatility and who are “chameleon actors”. Lopatkina has mastered portraying a Swan and regality so well (because she is an actual Queen), that’s all I can really see in her other roles but I adore her. Zakharova though just looks very boring to me; although she is beautiful, I have yet to find one role that she embodies completely.

100% YES | Agree | Sort of Agree | Meh | Don’t Have an Opinion | Disagree | NO WAY

I am only not giving this 100% yes for semantics, basically. I think they ARE boring to watch. Ballet is a performance and part of that performance is acting a role, whatever it is. If you can’t sell a performance emotionally, I don’t want to see it. Completely agree about Lopatkina (though I pretty much cannot watch her in anything but Swan Lake) and I’ve never enjoyed Zakharova. Obviously these people are incredible dancers, but to me that doesn’t mean you’re an incredible ballerina because acting is an aspect of ballet. 

I want to plaster this onto every comment section of any youtube videos about ballet: BALLET IS AN ART FORM, NOT A SPORT. Period. I don’t even know if this even qualifies as an opinion, because ballet doesn’t even fit the description of a sport. It’s a fact, supported by historical evidence, quotes and arguments from dancers, choreographers, pedagogues throughout history. People need to stop trying to use athleticism to legitimise ballet, it undermines the artistic aspect of the ART FORM. I don’t think any professionals who have been dancing for years see themselves as athletes. They’re called artists for a reason, and they understand why. I see people who say otherwise are usually very young.

100% YES | Agree | Sort of Agree | Meh | Don’t Have an Opinion | Disagree | NO WAY

Nothing to argue or explain there. 

I'm just a casual balletgoer and know nothing about the technicalities of the art, so forgive me if this is an obscure opinion but... Bournonville's ballets are lovely and they don't deserve their reputation of being boring and drawn-out

100% YES | Agree | Sort of Agree | Meh | Don’t Have an Opinion | Disagree | NO WAY

I’m always here to defend Bournonville ballet and technique. 

Unpopular Opinion: Just because a Vaganova grad has strong allegro or is lively on stage doesn’t mean they are suited for the Bolshoi

100% YES | Agree | Sort of Agree | Meh | Don’t Have an Opinion | Disagree | NO WAY

Absolutely. I also find it so insulting that people think the Vaganova doesn’t have strong allegro or lively dancers. That’s a fault of the people in charge of casting, not of the whole method itself.  

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

BFCD Reviews by Nesha: Grace Monroe & The Infinity Train on HBO Max

Disclaimer: Post includes spoilers and also, this viewer does not deem Infinity Train as a children's show and my views are not subjected to the idea that this is a children's show, but I do regard the characters as children.  

I’m not a psychiatrist. I haven’t taken a psychology class in many years. My work with children has been primarily trauma centered children, and I haven’t worked with typical children for a decade, so most of my opinions are from my personal life experience, my work experience, my children’s rights advocacy and activism, and the guidelines from my childcare specialist work for children in the system in the state of Texas. I don’t have a lot of information these days on typical children and I don’t know the culture of children all over the country or world, but I basically know a little something about traumatized children.

And as always, be nice, because I can be mean too (and will). 😉

Special thanks to @i-am-a-passenger for listening to me and being a SOUND sounding board for my thoughts through this experience that was season 3 of Infinity Train.

To be honest, I thought that it was extremely brave of the creators to go the route that they did with the story line. Not everybody can be saved is a take that we don’t see nearly enough, and whenever we do, usually a POC, oftentimes a Black girl is on the losing end of the tale. That didn’t happen here and despite some problems with some of the way that things played out in front of us, it was STILL a monumental moment for many fans and Grace’s redemption arc was valid and reasonable, so I loved it and I live for it. Now, I’m gonna give my review of the season and what I noticed about the characters...

First off, I think that the writing of this season was phenomenal. The style of the way the story was told impressed me from start to finish. There were moments that I didn’t expect, but I understood from a writing standpoint and for the characters presented. I’m not a professional writer, but it’s been a passion since I was 7 years old, so I have some experience with passion for writing and stories and a great narrative is my WEAKNESS, and I do believe that Infinity Train provides great narratives. 

This season has been my favorite thus far. I would have appreciated it for the story content, even if they had switched the characters’ arcs or went in a different direction with the redemption arc, but the fact that I was able to see an example of a Black girl being able to BE HUMAN, at my age - 38 - is still such new content that I was honestly overwhelmed by the simple fact that the creators decided that this Black girl was worthy of not only redemption, but the attention to detail and consideration was enough for me to love this season.   

The girl in question: 18 year old Grace Monroe, whose been on this train for something like 7 years.

It’s rare to see a dark skinned, brown skinned, Black girl with natural hair be shown in anything but stereotypes and/or plot devices for other characters. This character has a story of her own. A beautifully written and fully realized story of a child who got confused, made bad decisions, did terrible things, learned the truth, and sought to change.

Whenever we first meet Grace and Simon, she’s announced as the leader of the Apex, and Simon is announced as her second in command and given the credentials from her, “I trust him with my life.” Something that is later a bittersweet thought as he becomes the biggest threat of her life since she got onto this train. They’re clearly very close and only seem to disagree on how they respond to negativity.

One of my favorite things about Grace was that she was given layers. One of my LEAST favorite things about Grace was that she was given unfair head canons by the fandom extremely early on (all of which nobody ever proved but remained diligently devoted to believing). 

In this season, when the two are taken out of their comfort zone and traveling with outsiders, Grace and Simon are faced with lives that they haven’t thought about previously and wind up choosing very separate paths. Honestly, these paths they went on made perfect sense to me. I see both of them as traumatized children without any guidance and while one of them is very careless and reckless (Grace), the other is deliberate about what he does and has goals and plans. 

The biggest influence, I think, was their interactions with denizens prior to forming the Apex. Grace admittedly never got to know any while Simon was betrayed by one whenever she left him behind to potentially die. Simon carried this rage inside of him while Grace had nothing but apathy to guide her attitude of the denizens. Grace needed attention and she was able to get that from Simon and the Apex, so she made a life built on what that gave her.

While Grace tends to seem to try to sweeten the issue or charm people. Simon is more short with others and a bit rude. They handle things much differently, though they have created a lifestyle together and formatted a society of children that they lead.

All too frequently, if a character looks like Grace, she is there as fodder for whoever her (usually white) counterparts are. But Grace has a unique situation in which she shares center stage with her white male counterpart and we watch them develop together from two peas in a pod to mortal enemies. It is a sad separation, but one that felt necessary for the direction of the story. But here’s why Grace matters so much, despite the fact that she and Simon built a child army and killed we don’t even know how many denizens:

Grace changed for the better. When both of them met and got to know a denizen, she began to change. She didn’t understand it at first and took some time to admit to herself that she was even changing. She thought that something was wrong with her because her number was going down and that wasn’t supposed to be how it was. What she thought was that it made her look weak and she didn’t want Simon or the Apex to see her that way.

And saying that Grace changed for the better is sort of shaky, too. Because Grace wasn’t a bad person to begin with. She was a child who got on the wrong track. Going from being extremely alone to having one friend to having hundreds or however many Apex kids of followers changed her for the worse, but she was a good kid at her core. She was lonely in the real world and she acted out, then wound up on this train, had a life changing event by having to see “The Conductor” and translate what happened to her as someone saving her, and she went on to help save others, or so she thought, to some degree. 

Whenever she saved Simon, she had literally no reason to, other than she saw a kid in trouble and she knew she could help.She had just as little life skills and social skills as this kid in front of her, but... he was crying and she reached out to try to make him feel better, reminding him that even though life on the train was hard, he was alright now. Then, another life changing thing happened - Simon noticed that her number was higher and asked her how she got it so high. She knew just as much as him, and said that she was really good at life on the train, and the way she took that ghom out - she wasn’t completely wrong, but them being children and having only time and their limited views started a cult.

What I found interesting about this memory was the fact that Simon was telling Grace’s story for her. She tagged her charm onto it, but Simon (the writer of their laws and apparently a trilogy that not even Grace, who likes to read things wanted to read while they were besties) is telling the story to the kids. Probably embellishing, and Grace loves to be noticed, so she keeps this up until they’ve formatted an entire belief system. It was basically just I presumed whenever I questioned the reputation this fandom gave Grace as a manipulator who filled Simon’s head with hatred for denizens and Apex theology.It confirmed that people were wrong about her, which unfortunately didn’t make them change their minds, but they ain’t gotta. Grace lived and Simon died and that’s how this turns out sometimes.

I was able to at least acknowledge that his death was atrocious and it’s very unfortunate that he didn’t change for the better. He wanted control. He wanted power. He wanted to reign. Those things were more important to him than believing anything that went against his ideals. They were more important than Grace and his relationship with her. Meanwhile, Grace, up until even after he was gone cared about him. She defended herself whenever he attacked her, but she tried not to hurt him. She even tried to talk to him and he once again refused to listen. She saved his life AGAIN, and he still tried to kill her. Despite it all, when he was gone, she cried. Her friend was gone. Another life had been taken, and life meant something else to her now. 

Even paper birds mattered now, and thanks to that difference inside of her, she didn’t die. But, I expected her to. Not even because it would’ve made sense or helped the story in any way, but because that’s how it usually goes for characters like her, characters who LOOK like her. The fact that it didn’t brought tears to my eyes. This season was amazing. This ending was amazing. This character was amazing. I’m so pleased with it and it was more than I expected, because instead of setting expectations, I let them tell me the story. They did an excellent job.

I've been asking people since she first appeared in season 2 why they thought that Simon was some helpless and she was this dominating figure that bossed him into this lifestyle and mostly it came back to her higher number. i didn't think we were being shown that, so I've been suspicious every time someone has suggested that Grace got Simon started in this or taught him this and now that it's been debunked, I'm even more irritated with the suggestion that her redemption doesn't make sense or wasn't right. 

The thing about Simon was that he seemed fine. He seemed innocent, at times. He seemed like someone to sympathize with... What a lot of his fan base doesn't seem to realize is that is the case with every abuser. That is the case with many killers. Bad backgrounds and hard times coming up don't make for an excuse. Just because I GET his personality, doesn't mean he deserves respect or consideration. But then, we have Grace, on this other end who can't even get the recognition she earned through her decision making when she literally had the same childhood as him whenever they got there. Idk. Shit feels suspicious to me to not acknowledge Grace's redemption as well written. And the idea that Simon was doing these things for or because of Grace was proven as untrue, so there should have been a shift in her favor and there wasn't and my god that's some top shelf bullshit to me...

People frequently speak of Grace's manipulating Simon, possibly because they haven't had to try to use what you have to smooth someone over. The fact that Grace has been consoling Simon since they were children (THEY WERE CHILDREN), Because I see "Simon is a child" everyday, and always speak of his trauma, like Grace had none and like she's not the same age or near it. But, that's another thing that gets done to Black girls - they're aged up in people's prejudiced minds and expected to be more accountable than their peers. This GIRL has been repeatedly blamed for the issues of her friend.

And her "betrayal?" A lie she told to preserve life.

Simon proceeds to use her tape against her, leave her trapped inside of it (knowing it was dangerous, because the cat told him), sow lies about her in the Apex, pressure children that she knew to kill her, literally tried to beat her up and murder her, and kicks her as hard as he can after she saved his life AGAIN... He still gets more grace than Grace from the audience. I don't think people see Grace's humanity. People even assumed that her number was higher because she killed so many denizens... Like literally every wrong move doesn't affect numbers. And when faced with the story, which gives us a vulnerable Grace with flaws but also compassion, she's still been sidelined by fans of the show and nobody has given me any good reason as to why, so you already know, like we been knew. 😒

People have even tried to downgrade Simon's toxicity towards her because she led the Apex (and these people pretty much had similar things to say as people who didn't believe that my ex sexually abused me because of some examples of me being strong while arguing with him)...

THIS was triggering as fuck, but I've barely seen a PEEP about it. I'm going to presume that problematic takes of Grace are from a place of discrimination and dehumanization against another Black girl character like fandoms usually do.

But that just makes her matter more.

Good job, Grace. I knew there was good in you all along, and I didn't have to make up anything about you in my brain. ♥️♥️♥️

*Grace mourning a man that just tried to destroy her multiple times for telling a lie to keep him from killing a small child...

SPEAKING OF... The man double kicked her off that damn train in front of the kids AFTER they all saw her rescue him. Them kids might be messed up because of the Apex, but you can't tell me that Simon ain't further fuck them up with his reign. At least we know Grace was always nice to them. I'm glad they'll have each other to figure it all out.

[dawnwave16]

Gamer Girl

Yes another SAO/MLB crossover.  I love SAO so I can’t help it!  I was going through my grammerly works and saw the start of this and realised I had never completed it despite starting it in Dec so here you go!

Part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4

AO3

Story:

You would think that Lila Rossi’s lies would be exposed quickly once they had been posted onto the Ladyblog. In fact, you would think that they would be exposed almost as soon as they were spoken with someone so smart in the class. Either way, you would be wrong. It had been six months since the Liar had joined the class and the lies she had told still hadn’t been exposed. Marinette had tried at first but she had soon stopped when it became clear to her that as long as Lila had a story to tell, her class would listen.

As a result of this Marinette had stopped trying to protect her class from Lila’s lies. She had taken to simply ignoring her. She had started to ignore her class too. She didn’t make them the huge birthday cakes or mountain of cupcakes anymore. She didn’t bring in cookies for the whole class once a week and she stopped making personal gifts for everyone. If they wanted anything they had to ask for it but that would require that they remembered that she existed first. It was at the stage where if she didn’t remind her class that she was there, they simply forgot her. She honestly didn’t mind though as it had freed up quite a bit of time for her. Her design business had taken off in Japan as she had several friends there. If she wasn’t ladybug she would have considered moving there as she was much happier there then she was here in Paris. It was due to this that when Marinette had any downtime she had taken to gaming again. Not just any gaming but playing VRMMORPG’s. She had been a little wary of them after being caught in SAO several years prior but when Yui had contacted her after Kirito had logged in to ALO to try to save Asuna, she had willingly gone back into a full dive in order to help him and continued to do so as she went on frequent raids with his group. She had met Kirito when he had wandered into her clothing shop looking for a way to either upgrade or replace his black coat on one of the days that she had been running it rather than leaving it to an NPC. The two had partied together at her suggestion to get the correct mats and had become fast friends with him coming to her whenever he wanted his wardrobe upgraded. Unfortunately, she had reduced the amount of time she had spent gaming due to her class relying on her for so much but now that they weren’t, she had picked up where she had left off. Her stats had skyrocketed with her return to gaming and she had realised that her crush had made her act a little like Klien did whenever he saw a pretty girl. As soon as she realised this she had taken a hard look at herself and decided that while Adrien was handsome, he wasn’t worth making a fool of herself over. The fact that the girls in her class weren’t pushing her at him anymore helped with getting her to calm down too and now she was able to speak to him without looking like an idiot. The past week had been quiet. She’d seen her classmates all talking about something but Marinette hadn’t even asked what it was. She had a raid planned with Kirito and the others that she was looking forward too. Unfortunately, Asuna hadn’t woken from SAO. The blow she had taken from Kiyaba when protecting Kirito had killed her and not even the fact that the game had finished extremely soon after that had saved her like it had saved Kirito. The Asuna that had been pictured at the top of the world tree in ALO that had driven Kirito and herself back into gaming so soon after SAO had been cleared had been an AI that had been created by a mad man. Her family had been unwilling to believe that she was dead when everyone else had started to wake up, choosing instead to believe that she was one of the three hundred that were still trapped somehow. It had been a terrible blow to them when they had realised that this was not the case. The planned raid was one planned in her honour as this Saturday marked the anniversary of her death. Marinette still couldn't believe that three years had passed since she had been declared dead, nor could she believe all the VR events that had happened since then. Marinette had found it ironic that, now that she was no longer focused on Adrien, she had been able to see that she had had a crush on Kirito the whole time. When she had realised this the two of them had sat down and had a long conversation about their hopes and dreams. She had told him about her interest in fashion while in SAO and had kept him up to date with how her brand was doing IRL. In turn, he had told her about how his studies were progressing and how frustrated he was becoming by trying to read all the articles coming out of America about the advancements within his chosen field of study. His face when she had suggested that he have Yui run a translation program over them so that he could read them more easily had been fairly comical, even though she had reminded him that it would be in his best interest to learn English properly anyway. Marinette was drawn out of her musings when Mlle Bustier finally managed to get the class's attention. “Class I know this is may come as a surprise to you but due to the fact that Lila has to go to Achu and we won't be able to celebrate her birthday with her on the actual day, we will be hosting a party for her this Saturday.” The class immediately jumped into planning mode. “I'll do the music!” Nino called. “Ooh, Jeluka and I can organise the decorations!” Rose pipped up “Oh please! I'm going to London with Mummy and Daddy and I'm taking Sabrina with me. You losers can count me out.” Chloe sniffed while Sabrina nodded quickly, even though she didn't look too happy about it. “We could have the party at the park,” Mylene suggested which had Kim, Max, Alix and Ivan nodding eagerly in agreement. “I can't guys, my father has me scheduled for an all-day photo shoot,” Adrien said while he rubbed the back of his neck and appeared regretful. Marinette doubted it but she didn't say anything. “Awe, that's too bad, maybe we can facetime you in one or two of your breaks? I can organise that easily!” Alya tried to comfort him by saying. Marinette shared a look with Nathaniel who shook his head showing that he didn't but this story any more than she did. “What about you, Marinette?” Mlle Bustier said in a sickly sweet tone as though she expected Marinette would agree no matter what her real plans were. The class looked at her expecting her to say she would organise the food because none of the others had offered to do so. “I have plans for Saturday,” Marinette stated calmly. Mlle Bustiers eyes turned cold even as the class started to protest and say she had to organise the food. “Now Marinette, don't you think it would be nice to organise the food for the party?” Mlle Bustier's voice was saccharine sweet as she tried to convince Marinette that she should just comply. “If you want the bakery to do the catering you need to place an order and pay for it like everyone else. I have babysitting for Madam Chamack in the morning while she does her grocery shopping and has a few other appointments. I also have plans for the afternoon but those are personal and something I have been helping to plan for a while now. I can't back out of them now.” Marinette rebutted firmly. She was going on the raid in Asuna's memory no matter what. As she spoke the expectant gazes of her class had turned to glares. “Look, you guys haven't wanted me around for over six months. I have resigned as class president, giving that title to Alya.” Just as Marinette was about to explain more, Kagami walked in wearing a yukata. It took a moment for the class to notice her but Marinette noticed something that the class hadn't noticed and quickly walked towards her. “Do you need some help with retying your yukata?” She asked quietly, not realising that she had slipped into Japanese as she spoke. “Please,” Kagami's voice was filled with relief even as she let Marinette adjust and retie the garment. “How do you know how to do this, let alone speak Japanese so well?” Kagami asked as Marinette worked. Neither girl noticed the class staring at the two of them in shock. When everything was tied properly Marinette stepped back. “I have my own set of yukatas from some of my closest friends in Japan. When you spend as much time with people as I did in the game, you try to find other things to keep you occupied other than grinding for levels. Asuna, Lisbeth and Silica all got together to teach me how to tie mine without relying on in-game mechanics. They also worked on my accent which is why I barely have one when I switch to Japanese, or so I have been told.” Marinette smiled sadly as she remembered the times they had gotten together to have a girls night at one of their homes. The game mechanics meant that they hadn't been able to do much by way of dress up or spa treatments but because Marinette had the tailoring skill she could manipulate fabrics and they had taught her that way. She shook her head quickly and looked back to Kagami. “Are you comfortable?” Kagami nodded and thanked her and they spoke for a little while longer before Kagami left and Marinette turned to walk back to her seat, only to see the class staring at her. “What?” “Marinette, what was that? What language were you speaking? Since when are you and Kagami friends?” The three questions had been thrown at her by Alya, Mlle Bustier and Adrien. Marinette sighed and shook her head then answered. “In order, that as you so eloquently put it Alya, was me helping Kagami to retie her yukata as it is always easier to do when someone helps you, especially if you want one of the more complicated knots. The language, Mlle Bustier, was Japanese. One of the five languages I speak fluently. The other three are Cantonese, Italian and English. I didn't list French as it should be obvious. And as for your question Adrien, Kagami and I became friends on Friendship day

while playing that game. I stuck to French that day so I'm not sure she knew to come here but it doesn't matter.” Marinette was walking back to her seat as she spoke, taking care watch where she put her feet as the class had taken to trying to trip her every so often. “Why did you need my help when your uncle visited then if you can speak Cantonese?” Adrien said in bafflement. “Simple. Uncle Fu speaks Mandarin not Cantonese so we wouldn't have been able to understand each other. I also thought you might enjoy a day practising a language that you were being taught rather than just reading it.” Marinette replied with a small smile even as she sat down again. The class was still glaring at her but she ignored them and Lila quickly reclaimed their attention with some false tears and a sob story. By the time Saturday came around the class had forgotten all about the incident with Kagami and Marinette's refusal to help out with the food or having anything to do with the party. This left the class scrambling to organise food and drinks in time and unfortunately made everything a lot less enjoyable then they had hoped it would be. Marinette, on the other hand, had had a fabulous time looking after Mamon as Kagami and her mother had come round and between them they had dressed Mamon up in different yukatas and kimonos, teaching Mamon how to speak a few words in Japanese at the same time. Despite her very stern nature, Kagami's mother had seemed pleased to be passing on a small part of her culture to others who were eager to learn. The raid had gone well too and she and Kirito along with the others had shared some of their favourite stories about Asuna once it had been completed. Despite the sombre reason for the gathering, everyone had made the effort to be happy and to celebrate the good times they had had with her and with each other. They had held the get together at Marinette's home, which was above her in-game shop so they hadn't needed to worry about finding a private spot when they were ready to log off. When Marinette had walked into class on Monday, she had expected to be bombarded with stories of how great the party was. Instead, she was met with sullen glares and dead silence. Marinette raised an eyebrow but shrugged and ignored them, turning her attention back to her phone. She had woken up an hour early but instead of getting up straight away she had started messaging Kirito as he had been online. They had finally decided to give dating a try the previous day but they were taking things fairly slowly. Currently, they were talking about if she would be able to visit during the upcoming school holidays and trying to work out the logistics if she got permission to do so. “Marinette.” Mlle Bustier called. “Yes, Mlle Bustier?” “I thought you were going to do the food for Lila's party on Saturday. Where were you?” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “I told you I had plans for Saturday and that I would not be at the party.” “Marinette, remember what I said about -” “Mlle Bustier” Marinette cut her off, “While you might think that babysitting and going to the memorial of a friend is less important than a party for someone who does not like me, I don't. While my friend was declared dead three years ago, Saturday was the first time any of us had the chance to truly get together and remember her. Asuna died trying to give others a chance to live and she deserved to be remembered by those of us who were closest to her.” Marinette's voice was sharp and her tone was ice-cold as she spoke. Mlle Bustier and the rest of Marinette's class stared at her. “Footage was recently released of how she died if you are callous enough to demand proof. Unfortunately, I think you are because if anyone except Lila tells all of you anything you just swallow it but as soon as it's to do with anyone else you insist on having proof.” Marinette could tell that the class was about to start shouting at her but she ignored them and looked at her phone only to freeze. From what she was seeing, Yui had copied herself onto her phone and found all the videos from the past six months, as well as recording the confrontation that had just happened and sent it to the School Board. Marinette had planned to try to get a bit more evidence before she did that but it seemed that Yui had decided enough was enough. She was brought out of her frozen state when she heard Max asking if he had permission to play the video he had found for the class. She was about to warn them that it was fairly violent but Mlle Bustier had already granted her permission and Markov was projecting the video of the final SAO battle against the Skull Reaper on the white screen that Mlle Bustier had pulled down to cover the blackboard. The class watched in horrified amazement at what was being shown and gasped when they saw the younger Marinette on the screen amid the fighters. Marinette could see they were wanting to point out the fact that this was a game, you couldn't die because of a game and that none of the female players had died in that fight when they saw that Marinette's eyes hadn't left the screen and that the video hadn't ended. They gasped in horror as they watched everyone collapse to the floor and screamed when a girl jumped between the two players that were duelling, killing her. The video ended and the class was silent. Marinette spoke then, breaking the silence in a voice that was so brittle and hollow that none of them knew what to think. “What you just watched was the final two fights of SAO. The girl that died was my friend Asuna Yuuki. Before you say it's just a game, get Max to look up the details. It was well documented. I'm going home, don't bother to try to stop me. You just made me watch my friend die AGAIN, I think I've earned my mental health day. I will stay in this class for the rest of the term, then I will be transferring to a different class. I want nothing to do with any of you anymore, Mlle Bustier I hope you are proud of yourself for letting things escalate to this.” Having said her piece, Marinette turned round and walked out of the room. She knew there would probably be Akumas that would be created by what had just happened but at that moment she just wanted to be alone. Or better yet, surrounded by here real friends.

[2-fast-2-curious]

Scorpio Season

Dedicated to all my fellow Scorpios who will be celebrating their birthdays soon. I decided to publish it a week earlier before I’m impatient AF. Because I love Poly Bennguin consider this a prequel of sorts to the other pieces I’ve written. If you want to read those, they’re in my masterlist. 

“And this is how it starts...” You take your shoes off in the back of my van

In Tyler's defense, he saw you first. You were sitting at the bar, swirling a drink. Unfortunately, Jamie also saw you

Jamie had also gone through a messy breakup with his long term girlfriend and Tyler was finally able to convince him to come out with him. It would take some time but Tyler knew Jamie would be fine. He just needed to a gentle reintroduction to the dating scene. Tyler wasn't expecting Jamie to meet his next girlfriend that night, so when he caught Jamie staring at you, he encouraged his teammate to go up and talk to you. 

From that moment on, Tyler couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he was the one who bought you a drink and asked you to dance. You had given Jamie your number. Jamie had been in a relationship most of his adult life and was having difficulty navigating the initial stages to translate flirtiness and attraction into a date. 

Despite what Tyler told him, it wasn't like riding a bike, the muscle memory just wasn't happening for him. Jamie stared at the blinking vertical line on the text box as he wrote and deleted a dozen different messages. In an act of desperation, Jamie texted his friend.

What should I say?

It wasn’t like Jamie couldn’t talk to you. He could. He had shown you a fabulous time. Taken you to a nice restaurant, made you laugh and fall for the sensitivity hidden behind those deep brown eyes. It was just hard for Jamie to translate his wit and charisma into text. 

That’s why he needed Tyler’s help. You seemed to like the cocky fuckboy vibes Tyler’s messages gave off. You had sent Jamie a slightly risque picture of you getting out of the shower when Jamie was on the road and he didn’t know what to say.

He wanted to compliment you without coming off as creepy.

So he went over to Tyler’s room on the road. And Tyler helped him a lot more than he should, helping Jamie brainstorm of sexy things he could say to you. Which required Tyler to actively think of the things he spent so much energy trying not to.

Maybe about how nice your legs looked.

Or how pretty the water looked falling between your cleavage

Tyler imagined himself as a voyeur, in you and Jamie’s relationship, standing by the window as you and Jamie fucked.

Tyler wasn’t sure what he wanted

Was he jealous of Jamie?

Was he jealous of you?

He liked the idea of you and Jamie together

It had been just over a year since you and Jamie had met in that bar and now Jamie was throwing you a birthday party. A catered affair at his home.

“Ty, I need to talk to you.“ You pulled Tyler away from the crowd and upstairs. “Do you really mean what you write about me?”

Tyler pretended he didn’t have any idea what you were saying. “What do you mean?”

“Tyler, I know Jamie didn’t write those texts to me.” You didn’t look as mad as Tyler expected you to since he figured you’d eventually find out.

“How?” Tyler bit his lip, unsure how he should read the situation.

You crossed your arms, Tyler’s eyes immediately noticing how the action pushed up your cleavage. “Well first of all, when he’s on the road, all of a sudden he’s obsessed with my boobs?”

Tyler was embarrassed he had been caught ogling you. “Also Jamie admitted you’ve been helping him.”

You loosened your satin wrap dress, showing off the beautiful peach coloured lace that adorned the tops of your breasts. “That you helped him pick this out for me.“

Tyler remembered that night in Minnesota well. When he and Jamie were on the La Perla website, trying to imagine which colour you’d look the best in. “I think since you’ve helped, it’s only fair you should get to see it too.”

Tyler’s pulse raced, partially from your actions, partially because he wondered how this would look if Jamie were to walk in. Tyler really wasn’t looking to get traded again. “What about-”

“Jamie’s waiting for us in the bedroom.” You cut off Tyler, reaching up to play with his hair. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” That was all Tyler needed to hear, he kissed you, his arms wrapping around you, lifting you off the floor as he carried you to the master bedroom.

Jamie was sitting on the bed pensively, he admitted to you pretty early on that Tyler had been helping him. The guilt had been eating him alive. You had handled things pretty well and told Jamie that he should continue having Tyler as part of your relationship. Jamie helped you with your plan to seduce Tyler. You began sending more risque pictures and messages and had Jamie show them to Tyler under the guise of helping him. You encouraged Jamie to talk explicitly with him about your sex life. The idea was always to include Tyler into the relationship, but the time never felt right. But tonight, it was your birthday and it felt right.

His face instantly lit up when Tyler walked in with you. Tyler continued to kiss you as Jamie helped you get out of your party dress. Tyler’s hands wandered down your newly exposed back and squeezed the lace covering your bottom.

“Why don’t you show Tyler your pretty pussy?” Jamie asked as Tyler put you down on the bed.

You turned around and crawled onto the bed, wiggling your butt on your way up to the headboard. You pulled your underwear over your butt and down your legs. You arched your back, sitting on your heels to present your plush lips and dripping slip to Tyler. You had been wet the entire week while you and Jamie had been planning this.

“Ready to show Segs, what a good little slut you are? How you need two cocks to keep you satisfied.” Jamie would ask in the mornings leading up to this, his fingers playing with your wetness while your mouth was wrapped around his cock. “That’s right baby, I’m gonna let Tyler fuck your pretty cunt as you wrap those lips around me.”

You shiver at the memory, you shouldn’t believe this was actually happening. Tyler’s fingers lightly spread your lower lips apart and you can tell feel yourself dripping on his digits, coating him in your wetness. Tyler continued to slowly explore your pussy possibly due to feeling unsure of how far he was allowed to go.

Jamie was sitting on the bed, playing with your hair and rubbing your back. “She likes it rough, she’s not gonna break on you. She can take a lot, isn’t that right baby?”

“Yes. I love it when you fuck me hard, Daddy.” You practically purred as Jamie gave you a neck rub as a reward for your answer.

“She’s so fucking wet.” Tyler undressed and took some of your wetness to use as lube as he jerked off his cock.

“I think she’s ready for you to fuck her.” Jamie’s large hands moved your legs further apart to give Tyler better access. Jamie had sure to watch your face as you felt Tyler push inside you. You were in heaven. 

Jamie’s hands reached down to undo your bra to free your swaying breasts rolling your pebbled nipples between his fingers. “C’mon baby, show Segs what you like.”

You grinned as you rolled your hips into Tyler as he thrusts inside you. You reached for Jamie’s cock and took him into your mouth as Tyler pounded into you. You moaned as you felt your walls squeeze Tyler’s cock, Jamie could feel the vibrations of your mouth on him and thrust himself further down your throat. 

Jamie came first, filling your mouth with his cum. You and Tyler came after, his fingers digging into your hips, your head was thrown back as you felt the warmth spread through your lower abdomen. Tyler’s hands rubbed your clit and Jamie’s hands continued to tease your nipples.

You collapsed onto the bed as Jamie went into the bathroom to grab a warm towel.

“Jamie...” You were exhausted, it felt like your body was made out of lead.

“Sleepy?” Jamie asked, kissing your temple as he set the used towel onto the nightstand.

You nodded, “Rest up, babe, you can play with Segs some more tomorrow.”

You snuggled into Jamie’s chest and Tyler didn’t know what to do.

Luckily you pulled him close to you and pressed your front against him while Jamie snuggled into you from behind

“Stay the night with us, Segs?” Jamie asked as he pulled the covers over the three of you.

“Would you like to stay forever?” You quoted Mulan as you yawned, your eyelids feeling heavy.

[purrincess-chat]

Okay, so I've seen several people being annoyed with the class in the latest chapter of my fake dating AU, so I feel like I should clear things up a bit? Because the issue in this chapter/scene isn't the class, it's Lila.

You as a reader know that Adrien and Marinette's relationship is fake, ergo they might be uncomfortable kissing each other in general let alone in front of everyone (particularly because they just decided to do this 5 minutes ago). The class does not know this. From their perspective, their two friends are in love and want to kiss each other, Adrien even says as much. From their perspective, Marinette has been head over heels for this boy since day 1, and now she is finally getting the chance to be with him. They're super fucking pumped for them. They think that Adrien and Marinette are happy. Them playfully goading them to kiss isn't the real problem here. That would be Lila.

See Lila knows that the girls (and most of the boys) are all pulling for Adrinette to happen. She's seen the picnic, she's seen the birthday, and since this episode is post-Ladybug, she has seen the events of Startrain too. She knows that the class is invested in making this relationship happen. She also strongly suspects what is really going on in that Adrien and Marinette are only dating to prevent her from dating Adrien as was her agreement with Gabriel. The two very people who know she's a liar getting together on the very day that she was supposed to become his girlfriend is no coincidence to her. And unfortunately for them, she also knows how much Adrien likes to avoid conflict and how much he doesn't like to trouble people. She knows that Marinette can barely function around Adrien normally let alone pretending to be his girlfriend, so what does she do with all of this knowledge?

She uses it. She pokes the bear.

She tosses the class some bait knowing they will latch onto it. She issues a challenge to Marinette and Adrien. She tries to call their bluff and almost succeeds, but Marinette's will to keep Adrien out of her clutches outmatches her nerves about kissing him as well as Adrien's fear of causing too much trouble for her. The pressure of this scene wasn't to kiss or not to kiss, it was to commit to the lie or admit the truth, and in a way it's Marinette's way of telling Adrien that she is committed to helping him.

Adrien and Marinette agreed to pretend to be in love. Kissing, snuggling, holding hands, etc comes with the territory on that, and somewhere in the back of their minds they knew that. They didn't plan very well ahead of time, but these were all things they unconsciously agreed to going into this mess. It's the point. To be a couple in public. To kiss in public, to hold hands in public, to appear to be in love in public. Their relationship is public. So the class insisting they kiss publicly was bound to happen, and in a way Marinette realizes this which is why she says at the end of chapter 1 that they have a slight problem because she knows how her friends are and she also knows that her feelings are genuine so her friends are about to flip their shit. She doesn't fault them for that because they're happy for her because to them she finally got with the boy she likes. Lila is the problem here which they point out after that. She knows they're lying, so she is their number one problem. Not the class being happy for them and wanting them to be the couple they say they are because for most couples, kissing is a very normal thing to do.

They could have easily insisted that "oh, we're too nervous" or "we don't feel comfortable doing this in front of everyone" but that wasn't the point of the scene. Lila challenged them, and they accepted. Lila wanted them to crumble under pressure, but they didn't. Kissing in front of everyone was going to happen eventually. Probably later that day even just in their whole act of being a couple. Lila just moved the time table up and increased the pressure in an attempt to get them to crack. It's not the class' fault for being excited for their friends and expecting them to be a couple when they just walked in and said, "Hey, we're a couple." Had they truly expressed discomfort with it, the class likely would have backed down and respected it seeing as several of them are coupled up and probably know how nervous you can be in the beginning stages of a relationship. But you can't fault them for not knowing that their relationship is fake and that they were both secretly a little flustered about going through with it. In their eyes, kissing was something they wanted to do because they're in love. Because it's normal and expected of couples.

They weren't "forced" to kiss. Pressured, sure, but they could have said no. They chose not to. Adrien even asks Marinette before they do if she is certain she's okay with this which in translation he isn't just asking about the kiss, he's asking about all of it. Committing to the lie. And she says yes. Then after they seal the deal and decide they're all in, he apologizes for all of the trouble he's causing her and that he's going to cause her moving forward.

So, yeah Lila and the class pressured them to kiss, but ultimately they both consented to it which in a way they already had when deciding to be a fake couple. But again that scene wasn't about the kiss, it was about the lie. Just so we're clear on that. Everything is cool beans with them. They're not mad at the class. They don't feel mortally and emotionally traumatized from it. Even after it happened they weren't that upset by it. They were a bit vexed with Lila, but more in a okay she knows so we are gonna have to watch that kind of way. So like, it's fine. Chill.

[quinnofcastleport]

fallout | thanksgiving, 2k19.

who: quinn fabray, an underpaid secretary, randall fabray, carole hudson, mention of others.

what: sometimes, you think you’ve prepared for the worst, and then what you’ve prepared for is actually the best, and there’s a whole world of hurt headed your way.

where: quinn’s house, the gazette, a church, the hudson home

when: thanksgiving week (Monday - Thursday), 2k19

warnings: brief description of stylized blood/injury, really unfortunate parental interaction, spiraling thoughts, religion

wc: 4.8kish

It had been a very long, and mostly very bad week.

Her one accomplishment - James Evans, safely tucked away to dry out for the first time in a decade - had been drowned out by the ripples that came from it.

Sam had been bad enough. She’d been trying to comfort herself about it, that at least she knew where they stood, at least he’d been honest about how he felt and what he thought of her, finally, a response and reaction she’d never known she needed to question.

So she’d been wrong.

It didn’t happen often, but it did happen.

(Would it ever stop being so devastating?)

So she’d been wrong about her relationship with Sam. So she’d been playing his words over, and over, and over in her head for nearly twenty-four hours now, reconciling him with the old, old memories that had become shaken loose after her trip with James. Lunchtime snacks and after-hours holiday visits…

(She never had gotten that recipe from Mrs. Evans, and no one else’s chocolate cake quite came close. She’d spent a long time trying to find one that did, before concluding that it didn’t matter how expensive the restaurant or how well-trained the chef, better than Maggie’s just didn’t exist.)

She tried to make herself feel better about it. About Sam, believing the worst of what she thought of herself on the worst of her days; the worst of what was whispered about her, the worst of what nipped at her heels and caught her up in a whirlpool that only dragged down, down, down.

To some people, she’d always be the one who dumped trash on Rachel Berry.

Apparently ‘some people’ included Sam Evans, the kid that used to practice his funny voices and impressions on her and not be satisfied until she laughed. Sam Evans, the guy who’d just - let her work at his dead mother’s bar because Quinn badly needed somewhere to work. Sam Evans, who--

Whose relationship she’d ruined and whose father she manipulated into the right choice. Sam Evans who, apparently, genuinely believed she didn’t and hadn’t ever cared about him. Sam Evans who hadn’t even been wrong when he’d accused her of only reappearing in their life because her life was a mess. Everything he’d said was etched permanently into her brain, irrefutable and damning. Sam, Sam, Sam, and the safest she’d felt in a long time, down the damn drain.

She tried to make herself feel better about it. This was, of course, a lost cause, so when that didn’t work, she banned herself from devoting any more time or energy to thinking about it. There were bigger fish to fry, or at least more threatening men to defend herself against.

She had been ready for Sam’s righteous fury, for his dropping of her like so many hot rocks. She thought she’d been ready for the rest of it, too.

She was, again, wrong.

She really didn’t care for it, being wrong.

Quinn ignored the calls. Four calls, two voicemails, and a handwritten note tucked into the crevice of her front door. The message was clear on all of them: there was no avoiding the train that was bearing down to her, and there was nowhere to go that it wouldn’t hit her, at full speed.

Still. She managed to postpone it for one full day; one full day of grace. Tuesday. She didn’t speak to anyone except patrons at the bar; Sam didn’t come into work. She got to retreat into herself, be nothing more than a girl with pink hair who served strangers drink. She got a full day to recover from the battle the day before. One day to lick her wounds and try to find a new stable ground to plant her feet on.

On Wednesday morning, when Quinn opened the door to take Shelley out, she was met with--

“Margaret?” Quinn said, eyebrows raising briefly in surprise. She recovered herself quickly and straightened, acting like she wasn’t in her pajamas, like her dog wasn’t currently begging for love from her father’s secretary.

“Good morning Miss Fabray,” Margaret said, attempting in vain to dissuade Shelley from her determined pursuit of pets. “Mr. Fabray would like a word.”

Quinn made a quiet noise of understanding, then let Shelley pull her around Margaret. “I’m engaged today. I’m unable to meet with him.”

“He, uh, ah, well, he said that if you said that…”

Quinn waited, then rolled her eyes. “Margaret, just say it.”

“He said you would meet with him, whether you liked it or not, and it would be very unpleasant if you make him wait.”

Quinn shook her head. “You’re the one he sent?”

“Miss?”

“If he wanted to threaten me or drag me in by my hair he could have sent Thomas, or Uri, or Edward. Why did he send you?”

“He--he said…”

“Yes?”

“He said that I would be best suited, since you wouldn’t be able to…”

Quinn arched an eyebrow. “Yes? What am I unable to do?”

“Fight me?”

Quinn blinked. It became immediately apparent that Margaret thought Quinn was going to challenge her to fisticuffs.

Which, okay, she had pink hair, a big dog, and a face that said ‘don’t fuck with me’, sure, but--she wasn’t violent. Why was her father telling people she was violent?

Quinn chose to be amused.

“I see,” Quinn said, letting Shelley drag her back toward the door. “Well. You’ll just have to tell my father you were unable to collect me.”

“Miss Fabray,” Margaret said, her voice coming out considerably weaker than she wanted it to, “he told me that I wasn’t allowed to return unless it was with you.”

Quinn stared at her, deadpanned. “Are you going to stage a sit-in on my porch, Margaret?”

Margaret gave a shaky nod. “I was told to do whatever was necessary, as your presence is required in Mr. Fabray’s office.”

“I see,” Quinn repeated, looking for amusement and only finding deep, overwhelming irritation. “Well, I hope you stay warm out here.”

Quinn went back inside.

Pathetic.

She fed her dog.

She ate breakfast.

She had to go to the gym.

She had to go to work.

She had to get out of her damn house, and there was a captor waiting for her just outside the door.

Why didn’t this house have a goddamn back door?

Quinn growled to herself and stalked back into her bedroom. She could climb out a window…

Instead, she found clothes.

She didn’t try very hard. When she ‘found clothes’, she truly found them - a pair of jeans she didn’t remember buying, or ruining, with holes in the knees and what looked like paint stains on them. Were they even hers? Quinn had no idea, but she put them on and they fit, so she decided it was acceptable. She grabbed a t-shirt from her ‘probably needs washed’ pile, one of her new ones that she’d cut the neck off jaggedly to emphasize the artwork, which was for some metal band Quinn had barely heard of, but she’d enjoyed the aesthetic enough at the time.

(Several things had been hilarious in New York that didn’t seem to translate to Castleport.)

She put it on, grabbed her leather jacket, slid her rings onto her fingers, affixed her black choker, and opened her front door. Margaret still stood there, like an obedient, anxious lapdog, all eyes and ears and hope/fear. Her eyes got wider as she took in Quinn’s look, which made Quinn almost want to smile.

“Let’s get it over with.”

Margaret had driven, and the only reason Quinn didn’t insist on taking her own vehicle was because she was running out of gas, and it wasn’t as though her father’s office was so removed from everything that she needed a car to be safe on her escape route. The ride was silent - Margaret didn’t even turn the radio on, which made Quinn want to find the loudest and most obnoxious station she could find.

Before she could, though, they arrived, and Quinn glared up at the building.

Once upon a time, it had been her favorite place in the world.

And now?

Quinn got out of the car and slammed the door behind her, stalked up the steps. Margaret hurried after her, trying to explain something or stop her or something, Quinn didn’t care what she was saying. Quinn ignored her all the way to her father’s office and let herself in, shutting the door behind her.

Her father sat behind his desk, and was having a conversation with a man standing next to him. The man wore a deep blue suit, had thick glasses, and had attended each and every one of Quinn’s birthday parties.

“Pat?” Quinn said, momentarily drawn up short.

What on earth was the family lawyer doing here?

To his credit, he seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Her father, if he had a reaction to her look, it only presented itself in a beat-too-long’s worth of silence.

“Sit down,” Russell said. It was not an invitation so much as it was an order.

“No thank you,” Quinn said, pursing her lips. “I won’t be staying long enough to sit. Well done on the acquisition, by the way. Really top notch sending that poor girl to stalk your daughter.”

Russell ignored her, continuing like she hadn’t even spoken. “I assume you know why you’re here.”

Yes. “I don’t have a clue why I’m here.” (He’d taught her to be obstinate and to lie when necessary when he let her curl up in his office chair and eavesdrop on his business deals and arrangement. The amount that could be gained from withholding information was mindboggling, he’d told her once, and he’d proven to be right about that, a thousand times over.)

“Pat?” Russell said, lifting two fingers as an instruction. “Show her, please.”

Pat spared Russell a glance - Quinn couldn’t read it, but something like doubt crossed his face. “Miss Fabray,” Pat said, holding out a file for her. He could have walked around the desk and handed it to her, like a normal person, but it wouldn’t have surprised Quinn to learn that her father had chained him to the desk. 

Quinn stepped forward and took the file, though she didn’t open it. “What is this?”

“A notice of legal action being brought against you, on behalf of Mr. Russell Fabray.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Legal action,” Quinn repeated. “Is it a crime to--”

“Make unauthorized purchases on someone else’s credit card? Yes, it is. I have few friends from the Sheriff’s department standing by, just to make sure.” Russell said. “Pat,” he continued, leaning back in his seat. He looked like a lion that had just dragged back the biggest wildebeest and was looking forward to getting the king’s share of the meat.

What an asshole.

Pat nodded to the folder and Quinn opened it, reluctantly. “Do you recognize this purchase?” Pat asked, and Quinn scanned the document at the top of the pile.

A list of transactions from her father’s credit card.

One was highlighted in yellow.

It read the name of the facility she’d enrolled James Fabray into, along with the amount charged to the card.

Fuck.

Quinn, though, had been raised by two newspeople with strong opinions on other people’s idiocy, and so she knew not to admit anything without her own lawyer in the room.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quinn said, flipping the file shut, “and I don’t know why I’m here.”

Russell sighed. “Thank you, Pat.”

This was Pat’s cue, apparently, because he nodded and hurried out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“You’re suing me?” Quinn finally asked. “You’re taking me to court? That’s a very classy move, Daddy.”

“Do not,” Russell said, his voice having lost every ounce of the bored professionalism it had contained when Pat was in the room, replaced with the worst sort of blackness, the kind that made Quinn’s worst sound like a kitten who’d gotten hold of a helium tank, “dare to lecture me on classy, Lucy, when you show up dressed like--like--”

“Like?” Quinn prompted, pretending that the use of her old name, her first name, wasn’t the fastest way to get under her skin. She wasn’t that girl, hadn’t been for a very long time. “Please, Daddy, tell me.” Quinn crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Like that.” He spat the word and Quinn tried to find it in her to be disappointed that ‘that’ was all he could come up with, instead of hurt, like ‘that’ was the worst thing he could have come up with.

“I fail to see how what I wear is any of your bus--”

“I don’t think you understand the situation,” Russell said, leaning forward. He folded his hands together and Quinn knew that look in his eye - victorious and cruel. “If I wanted to, I could destroy you with two phone calls.”

“...And?” Quinn finally said, though it didn’t come out as blase as she wanted. “What--”

“Here is what is going to happen,” Russell continued. “You are going to work to pay off that debt.” Russell nodded toward the folder. “Or I will take you to court and win, handily, and I don’t think all the god-awful makeovers in the world would prepare you for prison.”

“Pris--”

“You are going to work off the debt. You will be reporting to the Gazette’s Editor-in-Chief, Michael, first thing Monday morning. You will spend the intervening time…” Russell looked her over, “making yourself presentable.”

Quinn’s head was spinning. “I have a job. I’m not working for the Gaz--”

“You do not have a job,” Russell said, “not anymore. Your ‘job’ is not one that is acceptable for someone who, for the moment, carries my last name. It is time, well past time that you remember that you are a Fabray, and that you must comport yourself appropriately. Monday, 8 AM. Your paycheck will be garnished up until the point that I see fit, or until this debt is paid.”

So she wasn’t going to be drawing a paycheck, Quinn realized numbly.

Wait. Wait a minute. No. No.

“I am an adult,” Quinn began quietly, “and that means that I am free to dress how I want, work where I want, and do what I want.”

“An adult,” Russell echoed, followed by a derisive snort. “An adult takes responsibility for her actions, and you...have never done that, not once in your life. No. You are clearly a child. A disappointing child at that - when you actually were the age you’re acting, you had so much…” Russell sighed. “Promise.”

“I’m an adult,” Quinn repeated, her volume rising, “and you can’t make me--”

“That can,” Russell said, nodding to the folder in her hand. “Tell me. Who was this for? One of your streetrat friends from school? An ex-boyfriend? Or that profe--”

“It’s none of your business,” Quinn snapped, straightening her spine.

“It was my money you used, Lucy. That makes it my business. It would become my business would I named that...that...facility in my suit, on the grounds of accepting an unauthorized payment. I would make it my business when I bury the corporation that runs that disgusting program. It would be my business when I own them just so I can have the distinct pleasure of shutting them down.”

“...You can’t do that,” Quinn said, voice coming out very soft. No, no, no, no, it wasn’t just James in that building, there were other people, other people who needed that place--

“I could,” Russell corrected, something like a laugh escaping him that sent chills all the way down Quinn’s back. “I may choose to be gracious and allow this theft, as you will be paying it back. With interest. Beginning Monday morning, 8 A.M. You will be dressed appropriately, you will have that thing out of your nose, and you will not violate the dresscode by sporting any…” Russell dragged it out, “unnatural hair color. You will come prepared with three pitches for Michael, and if you are lucky, one may be considered.”

Every word he spoke was a nail in her coffin. She could feel it, feel the walls of her old life thudding shut around her. Prison, she thought, couldn’t have been far off from how she felt.

Goodbye freedom, goodbye life, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

“...If my paycheck is going to…” Quinn wagged the folder, “how, exactly, am I supposed to pay my rent.” Quinn swallowed, crossed her arms. “Feed myself.”

“You should have thought of that before you made this decision,” Russell said. He’d already picked up his glasses and was looking through paperwork on his desk. Quinn waited. When he flicked his gaze back up to her, he let out a noise that somehow said I-can’t-believe-I-have-to-answer-this-question without saying a single word. “I have contacted your landlord. You will be moving out this weekend.”

“What?”

“And, as you will be moving into my home--”

“What?”

“--you will not need to concern yourself with…” Russell waved a hand, “groceries and the like. Your meals will be tended to by the household. You will go to work with me every day and return home with me for dinner every evening, and you will not be permitted to socialize with anyone who has been…” Russell sniffed, “influencing you like this. Your mother and I agree--”

“Mother? You agreed on something?”

“--that this childish fit you’ve been throwing has gone on long enough. It is well past time for you to return to your life.”

Her life.

“...I want to stay with Mother.”

(It was an echo from a decade and a half ago, when they first told her they were separating. It had been as true then as it was now.)

“Your mother does not wish either of us to be in her home at this time,” Russell said, sounding bored. “Your mother and I have agreed that it will be better for you to stay with me until further notice.”

Her life, in his house, eating his food, working at his paper, writing what he wanted her to write and seeing the people he wanted her to see.

“...I...I’m an adult,” Quinn repeated, because it was all she had. She was gobsmacked. “I’m not a teenager anymore, Daddy, and I make my own decisions--”

“Then you deal with the fallout.” Russell nodded to the folder once more. “It’s your choice, Lucy. Either be here, Monday at 8 AM, or see me at the courthouse Monday, 8:30 AM. I’m sure there’s a public defender that would be awake at that hour, assuming they aren’t exhausted from defending the town drunks against public indecency charges. Which, speaking of indecency, how is your friend’s father? The one who owns that moneysink of an establishment? Mr. Evans?”

Quinn bristled and she bit down against the whip-sharp retort. He was trying to needle her, and he was succeeding.

“Is there anything else.”

“I’ll see you Monday.”

Quinn stalked out of the office, and the building, and the property, and kept walking.

And that had been Wednesday.

By the time Thursday rolled around, her unbridled fury and fear had given way into numb acceptance. All the time she’d spent carving herself out of the expectations placed on her shoulders. All the time she’d spent looking for what she actually wanted. All the time she’d spent trying to convince the people in her life that she wasn’t like that, that she was getting better, that she was a good person. All the time she’d spent to overcome the tragedy of her birth, and for what?

For nothing. For less than nothing. It not only hadn’t mattered, but it had insured that her future, for the rest of her life, was even worse than what it would have been if she’d shut up and fallen in line when she’d had the chance. She was going to be her father’s prisoner, and for what?

Quinn was doing laundry when she remembered why. A little piece of paper fell out of the back pocket of her jeans, and when she bent down to pick it up, tears welled in her eyes.

For what? For this.

Quinn crumpled the paper and finished throwing her clothes in the washer. Her clothes for her new look needed to be clean before she put them into vacuum-sealed bags and stored them in big storage totes for the rest of forever. Because she was apparently moving this weekend.

Thursday, though, was Thanksgiving. She’d been planning to do what she could to prepare for her own personal hell, then drinking a lot and watching the dog show before she fell asleep on her own dog and had to stumble to her room hours later to sleep it off.

That wasn’t in the cards.

(Why did she think she’d get anything she wanted, at this point? Really?)

Her phone rang.

For a moment, she thought it would be fucking Margaret, calling to yank yet another rug out from under her, some other thing Quinn loved that she’d have to give up in just over 72 hours.

She nearly ignored the call.

But her mind drifted to Santana, and she wondered what trouble she was getting into today, so she turned her phone over and--

“Shit,” Quinn hissed, hurrying to answer the call before it went to voicemail. “Carole! Hi!”

“Quinn!” Craole’s voice was as chipper and sunny as a day in June on the other end of the line, and Quinn literally felt some tension ease out of her shoulders with just that one word. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Quinn replied rotely, because that was what you say to people who wish you Happy Thanksgiving, especially people who had no idea that your list of things to be thankful for was getting shorter by the minute. “I hope you’ve been resting?”

“Please,” Carole tsked, “it’s not like Finn would prepare dinner. He’d go out for Kentucky Fried Chicken and call it set.” She laughed, and so did Quinn, because - well, Finn hadn’t ever really exactly excelled in the cookery department.

“Is everything alright?” Quinn asked, as their laughter died down. “Is Finn okay?”

“Oh, yes, he’s fine, or he will be, if he’s let off in time for dinner. Otherwise he may stage a riot right there in the office, which will be nothing compared to the fit I will throw if they try to keep my son from coming home at a reasonable hour on a holiday--”

Quinn refrained from reminding Carole gently that crime and criminals didn’t take the day off, because at this point she was well-familiar with Carole’s feelings regarding her son’s occupation and how frequently it cut into their family time.

It still caught her off guard, hearing a mother genuinely care about her child.

“Anyway,” Carole said, cutting herself off with a huff, “what time will you be here?”

Quinn blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What time will you be here?” Carole asked, which didn’t make any more sense the second time around. “I’m planning for everything to be done by five. Do you think you could make it by then?”

Quinn opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Thanksgiving was a day for family, but her family had conspired to shackle her to their plans and she had a Fabray-shaped knife dangling over her head, and she had never been less happy to be a Fabray, and Carole--

Tears welled in Quinn’s eyes and she quickly cleared her throat. “Yes,” Quinn answered as quickly as she could, “yes. I’d love to come. Thank you.” Thank you, thank you, thank you. “Should I bring anything?”

“Nothing but your smiling face! Oop, I need to stir. See you later! Happy Thanksgiving!”

The line went dead and Quinn set her phone down dumbly.

There went her plan. She wasn’t going to be getting very drunk and falling asleep anywhere while the Macy’s parade ran on repeat in the background.

She was going to Thanksgiving. To a family Thanksgiving. Hosted by the woman who had become more of a mother to her than her biological mother could even try to be.

She was going to Thanksgiving.

(Maybe she had a little bit to be thankful for after all.)

Quinn hadn’t been planning on making any stops on her way to Carole’s. She’d been planning on a bee-line, so she could be there for as long as possible and soak up every bit of comfort she could from the cozy Hudson house, but she found herself at a standstill - literally.

She stood in front of the church - her church.

She’d found her old silver cross necklace when she was digging through her room. She’d gotten it as a Confirmation gift from her great-grandmother, and she hadn’t worn it regularly since high school. She hadn’t worn it at all since college.

But now it hung around her neck, tucked beneath the hem of her shirt, resting against the hammering of her heart.

She needed it, now, more than ever.

Quinn walked up the steps and went inside.

It was more or less deserted, which Quinn was relieved about - she didn’t have the strength to explain herself to anyone with questions about her presence there, or her hair, or anything at all, so she hurried down the aisle before someone could appear to irritate her, and--

And what?

Quinn stopped, staring up at the figure of Jesus Christ on the cross. He was sickly thin, with blood painted as oozing from His hands, His side. The crown of thorns sat sharply on His head.

It must have been so awful, being up there like that, Quinn thought, not for the first time. It was grotesque, the image in front of her, one repeated in different styles and designs all over the country, the world - but there was a reason it persevered as one of the most recognizable symbols of the religion.

There was something compelling about sacrifice.

Quinn knelt in front of the statue, her pink hair falling forward as she bowed her head. Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned…

She didn’t know how long she knelt there, just that her knees were sore and achy by the time she stood back up. She was about to leave, really, she was, but she saw--

Quinn made her way over, rummaging her purse as she walked. By the time she arrived, she’d come up with a dollar, which she slid into the donation box in exchange for a long matchstick. She lit it off one of the many candles burning on the altar, and carefully caught another candle’s wick, watching as the fire jumped from match to candle. She blew the matchstick out once she was sure the little flame had caught, then set the matchstick in the trash bucket beneath the altar.

Please, Quinn thought, as strongly as she could, as loudly as she could, please, God, or Mary, or Jesus, or someone, Quinn’s hand found the silver cross and wrapped around it, tightly, please, God, help us. Help me. Please.

She watched her little candle catch and dance in the air currents, then forced herself to look away. She tucked her necklace back beneath her shirt and hurried back out of the church, suddenly more anxious than ever to get where she’d been going.

(Was it too late to look into the local convent? Quinn bookmarked that thought for later.)

Arriving at the Hudson house was sort of - not strange, exactly, because she’d been there dozens of times, especially while Finn was enlisted. She’d visited every time she came home; sometimes she’d come home just to visit with her. She knew Carole was lonely, and consumed with worry for her baby boy, so Quinn would find excuses to bake something and bring it over, and let them both be distracted for hours with a bottle of wine and shared memories. They caught up more than two people who emailed all the time needed to, but Quinn was not complaining - she loved Carole.

And Carole loved her.

(It seemed the list of people who loved her was also getting shorter by the day.)

The only strange part was going to be having Finn there this time, but--Quinn wasn’t really nervous about that, not really. Finn was like a Great Dane, or a Mastiff; big, intimidating, and more comforting than the most expensive security system money could buy. The way Finn took up a room, the easy way he smiled, how he acted when he was around his mother…

Quinn smoothed her still-very-pink hair down and let out a breath, then knocked on the door.

Maybe, just maybe, there really was something to be thankful for this year.

[dontreadthistrashgarbage]

Pt. 9

Han Jisoo was true to her word and within a week she called HEET and Woojin in for a meeting. The purpose of the meeting was to tell them that Guerin would be reinstated as their manager, and that Woojin would be staying on as an assistant. Woojin had already been briefed, but he was better at keeping a straight face than Guerin so she had to wait outside the room or the boys would know before Jisoo got to announce it.

Once Guerin heard a ruckus inside the room she knew it was okay to open the door and peek her head in, beaming at the scene that greeted her. Jisoo was laughing at the surprised reactions of her boy group, taken with their joy. Minhwan had jumped up and was hugging Gabriel and Woojin, the latter being a less willing participate in the spritely jumping around of the other two but still smiling. Seungbin was standing and asking if it was real and not a prank, Byoungjin had his hand buried in his face, likely starting to cry while Tobio crooned to him and comforted him. In a split second that changed as soon as they saw her coming through the door and she was rushed by her boys all speaking and shouting indecipherably at once.

She bounced around with them and couldn't help shedding a few happy tears herself, so relieved that this part of her life could return to normal finally and moved by everyone's reaction.

Once everyone had calmed down and reseated themselves, Seungbin had tried to sit on Guerins lap but she redirected him to his chair reminding him that it was a professional meeting. He settled for pulling his chair close to her and holding her arm while resting his head on her shoulder. No one had the heart to tell him to stop.

After the meeting Minhwan suggested they all get dinner to celebrate once their lessons and practice were over. Jisoo politely declined attending but handed over the company card to Guerin in support. Guerin resisted hugging her friend and instead bowed deeply with all the boys following suit.

"Noona, are you going to invite Wow-hyung to dinner with us too?" Byoungjin asked as Guerin escorted them back to their practice room.

"No!" Seungbin said quickly before Guerin had a chance to respond. She gave him a curious look before speaking into the silence that his abrupt interruption had caused.

"I was going to say that I think this is a team celebration so we should keep it to us."

"Seungbin, don't be rude. You need to apologize." Minhwan chastised the younger boy in true leader fashion.

Seungbin's eyes were on the floor, "I'm sorry Noona..."

She didn't respond right away but did give him a head pat and a smile as he looked up at her from under her hand. Once they were in the practice room Guerin cleared her throat, getting everyone's attention.

"I think we should talk really quickly before you all start." She looked at each of them, "Wow is my boyfriend. I like him a lot. All of A.C.E are my friends. But HEET are my boys. I love you all so very much and I'm always rooting for you first. I might have to balance my personal life a bit differently, but know that my love for you hasn't changed." Tobio remained largely expressionless per usual, Byoungjin looked curious, Minhwan was nodding, Gabriel had a slightly disbelieving look, Woojin looked uncomfortable as though he had been caught eavesdropping and Seungbin looked conflicted.

"I'm sorry Noona... it's just that... we just got you back and he's been with you this whole time..." Seungbin rubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor as he looked down.

"I understand. And you'll have enough of me around soon enough since we're getting back to normal. It was hard for me to be apart from you, and Kim Seyoon was a part of that support to help me get through it. All of you make me so happy, his is just a different kind of happy." She caught Gabriel hiding a laugh at her last comment.

"Oh shut up you know what I mean." She scolded him in English, unconvincingly because she had to fight to hide a laugh too.

"What I really want to say," she continued, "is to please not hold any grudges with him or any of A.C.E. Just like you don't with Charlie. And if you feel sad, worried or insecure you can talk to me. Don't bottle it up okay? And don't judge Wow unfairly." She finished.

A smattering of nods and words of affirmation from HEET were enough for her for now.

"Okay, let me see what you've been working on!" She clapped her hands and walked over to the music player with Woojin while HEET scurried to get warmed up.

"You still haven't had sex?" Charlie hissed.

Guerin shushed her, looking around quickly, "Just because we're speaking English doesn't mean we should assume people won't understand, or record and translate."

"I was quiet, but more importantly are you dying?" Charlie looked at Guerin with concern and held a hand to her forehead. Guerin groaned and rested her head on the table.

"Yeah I think I am." Her respond was muffled and tragic.

The two girls were in a small bakery sharing a piece of cake. It had been a couple days since their respective dates, Seyoon and Jun were busy as their fan project had been released and they had some schedules pertaining to that.

"You know how much effort I've put into making that situation happen for me and you have your own place and it is WASTED on you." Charlie feigned anger at the top of her friends head.

"I know." Guerin turned her head to the side to stare absently out the window, watching a young woman sitting on a bench outside on her phone. Charlie changed tactics and patted Guerin on the head encouragingly.

"We can see them again soon. You can try again!"

Guerin sighed and forced herself to sit up, "I'm not really worried. We'll get there eventually. But like... I want to."

"I believe in you." Charlie offered, taking a bite of cake.

Seyoon and Jun had their final schedule for their fan project. They sat in their respective seats getting their makeup done after their hair. The usual staff were tending to their cosmetics so the chatter was friendly per usual. Eunkyung was adding some finishing touches to Seyoon's look before changing the subject.

"These schedules are all because of your girlfriends right?"

He hesitated as he decided how to respond, feeling about odd, "It's not because of them." She didn't say anything as though waiting for him to finish a thought but he didn't say anything else.

"But... because you are openly dating now?"

Seyoon glanced at Jun but he was engrossed in conversation with his own makeup artist and didn't seem to hear the topic change, "We just want to assure our fans our love for them hasn't changed." He finally answered.

Eunkyung nodded absentmindedly, adding some gentle brush strokes to the foundation on his face. "I have to admit. I was surprised when I saw who you were dating."

Seyoon glanced up at her but she was seemingly focused on his makeup. He felt a response wasn't necessary so he didn't say anything.

"I thought you'd definitely date another idol once your ban was up." She smiled, stopping the touch ups to look at his face as she appreciated her handiwork. He nodded again, still not sure how to respond.

"When I was little my parents divorced." She started, "My parents never seemed to be suited for each other. I asked my dad how he and my mom had decided to start a family despite being so I'll suited for each other." Seyoon watched her pensively as she focused on more makeup details, not meeting his eyes.

"He said he felt that deciding to get married was like being a taxi going on duty. Once he turned on his light, whoever hopped into the cab was his responsibility. It was just unfortunate that it turned out to be a bad tipper." Eunkyung finished her story and sat back again, then met his eyes and the slight young woman smiled prettily. "You're all set for stage."

He thanked her and stood to move to the couch to wait for Jun for them to start their surprise vlive before the schedule.

Charlie had arrived at Guerin's place ahead of time to set up. She had asked him over with a movie night, only letting him know that it would be more private than at his dorm. Other than that she hadn't given him other details. Charlie had spent ages deciding on whether lighting candles would be too much or not and kept lighting, blowing them out, then lighting them until a knock finally came at the door.

The secluded environment that they were about to be in had inspired some ideas in Jun. He hesitated outside the door for a moment, trying to get his thoughts under control before ringing the buzzer. He continued reminding himself to not jump to conclusions and to just enjoy the movie with Charlie while he waited for her to answer the door.

Hearing the buzzer Charlie froze and took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomache. She opened the door, relieved for a moment to see that Jun had also dressed casually, even though her outfit hid her much more selectively chosen lingerie. Once the door was closed behind him they embraced, almost a little awkwardly.

The two of them puttered around until eventually settling onto the couch with some snacks as they started the movie they had agreed on beforehand. Charlie was completely unable to focus on the movie as she kept going through her plan for later in the evening in her head. She was so distracted she didn't even notice Jun's lack of reactions to the comedy. He was equally as distracted as the two of them cuddled closer and closer.

Charlie couldn't handle it, about an hour into the movie she couldn't even follow what was happening. She gave up and decided to go for it. Acting on impulse, refusing herself the opportunity to overthink anymore. Pulling away from him she pulled off her shirt, revealing a lacey surprise, the swung her leg over his lap, blocking the television.

Jun, who hadn't even been paying attention and contemplating along the same (although less bold) options was taken by surprise. His hands went automatically to the hips of his girlfriend. Jun's attention was snapped to attention as his eyeline, which started at her new lingerie before traveling up to her face, forced the reaction he had been lacking from the film. His eyes wide, he couldn't help but grin as a reaction before biting his lip and increasing pressure on her hips, pulling her closer. Their lips met, the kiss passionate and deep without lacked any pretense. Charlie removed his hands from him long enough to stand and remove her jeans, revealing the rest of her lacey provocation. He had all of a full second to react, not even noticing her flush before she moved back onto his lap her arms pulling him close as their lips met again.

His hands moved up to trace the edges of her bra, moving back to touch the clasp before hesitating. She pressed against him, wordlessly encouraging him grinding on his lap. Motivated by her response he fumbled momentarily before unhooking her and exposing her torso to him. He had seen her like this once before, but the moment had been ruined by Wow bumbling into their moment. This time no such distractions marred the experience. He took the time to experience the full glory, holding her away for a few moments.

She allowed him the enjoyment before stepping off him, taking his hands in hers and pulling him up. She snuck a kiss as they stood, lasting a few seconds longer than intended, before leading him away into the bedroom where they were finally able to more fully explore their desires.

For security and privacy, Kim Hyeim had allowed Guerin and Charlie access to the main waiting area of Beat Interactive. Seyoon had worked late knowing Guerin had a personal matter to attend to. Once she texted him that she was waiting for him when he was ready, he wrapped up his work and headed to the main floor immediately.

Guerin was waiting close to the door with her surprise. As soon as the elevator doors dinged she looked up to see Seyoon stepping out. She had time to stand up before seeing a pretty young woman that had been waiting closer to the elevators pop up and rush over to him.

Seyoon was surprised with Eunkyung greeting him first at the elevator doors. "Oppa!" She greeted him excitedly, hugging him without precedent. He froze for a moment looking down at her before patting her head, causing her to look up at him, "I waited for you!" She added.

He took her shoulders and gently moved her away from him. She complied by letting him go but still leaning close to him. He wasn't sure what to say but she seemed expectant so he mentally scrambled before settling on "Why?"

"I... I like you!" She said earnestly, pushing against his hands on her shoulders again. His lost expression only grew more confused and desperate as he floundered on how to react.

"Your girlfriend... she doesn't suit you! You have more options." She pressed, "I think you should know... you don't have to settle for the first customer once your light comes on!"

Seyoon had been known to react to annoying stimuli in situations like Jun singing loudly in the shower at bedtime, but he had rarely been moved to anger. The feeling for him was less a hot flash and more a settling cold at his face froze, eyes darkening. He was spared an immediate reaction as Guerin stepped up.

Seeing Eunkyung embrace Seyoon had made her heart lurch. She stood in place gathering her emotions, forcing herself to calm down as she watched another woman overtly throwing herself on her boyfriend. Swallowing her bubbling rage she forced a smile and moved to the pair.

"Seyoonie." Guerin said, greeting her boyfriend with forced cheerfulness before staring pointedly at the shorter woman leaning into him.

Eunkyung started. She hadn't noticed Guerin come into the waiting room, unaware she was allowed and having spent the last few hours working up her courage to confess to Seyoon. Seeing Guerin, the obstacle she perceived between her and Seyoon, she stepped back but couldn't hide a hateful expression.

The animosity was not lost on Guerin, who proceeded to politely bow and introduce herself. Eunkyung barely inclined her head in response. Guerin let her gaze linger almost condescendingly on Eunkyung, her annoyance poorly hidden before she turned fully to Seyoon, "Are you ready to go?" She asked.

"One moment." He reached for Guerin's hand, the turned to Eunkyung, "My light wasn't on when I met Guerin. But meeting her changed that." Guerin looked at him, baffled by his words and sure that her language skills were failing her. He continued, "I don't expect anyone to understand. I don't need them to. Least of all you." Eunkyung's expression became hurt and shocked but he wasn't done, "Our relationship has been professional until now. It's clear to me that it can't continue. I'll speak with Kim Hyeim so you won't need to be bothered by my presence anymore. It's been nice working with you, you've done well." He bowed politely to her form as she was frozen in surprise.

"Are you serious? Her??" Eunkyung spat, recovering enough to be angry. Guerin raised her eyebrows but Seyoon spoke.

"You have been inappropriate this entire time and I've been patient. You are about to cross the line." His cold expression was unfamiliar and scary, even Guerin looked to him in surprise, "At this point you will be leaving with a good recommendation. I suggest you don't throw that away."

Eunkyung took a step backward, paused and looked at him in shock. She seemed to debate saying something, threw a last disgusted expression at Guerin then turned to leave, angry tears in her eyes. The pair watched her leave. As soon as the doors closed behind her, Seyoon pulled Guerin into him hugging her close. Guerin was temporarily lost for words. She knew she had been insulted but the interaction had been confusing, so her anger was curbed by curiosity, and embracing Seyoon who held her so tenderly helped abate the strong negative emotions she felt.

"What just happened?" She asked.

"She's not important. She was wrong." He rested his head against hers, trying to calm himself.

"Will you tell me more later?" She asked, snesing he might be too worked up now to get into details. He nodded into her. After a moment he relaxed and changed the subject.

"So what was your surprise?" He asked.

"Oh... well I hope this cheers you up..." she pulled away from him and reached down to a crate she had set behind her protectively out of habit. Opening the door a white fluffy cloud of a creature pushed out, wagging a happy tail.

Seyoon dissolved.

[mentalmimosa]

this room and you

Prompt: We’re actors who have never met before and the first scene we’re filming is the kissing scene, and the director isn’t happy so we have to do it over and over. By the way, you need a breath mint. 

t’s not that Bucky hates Steve Rogers; that’s kind of impossible. The guy’s a do-gooder in the best sense, in the sort of way that says even if he weren’t famous, weren’t a modern-day version of a matinee idol, he’d still be out there helping kids and raising money for animal rescue and using his scarce days off to build houses for the homeless with Jimmy Carter with a big ol’ smile on his face. He likes it, trying to make the world a better place, and he’s one of the few actors Buck’s ever met who gets that there’s more he can do on that score than look pretty at photocalls and name drop Amnesty International whenever he wins an award. The press raves about him, his co-stars all do; even the crew guys Bucky’s met who’ve worked with the guy can’t gush fast enough. Steve Rogers is a very solid human. Full stop.

They’ve both been in the business about the same time, though Bucky’s path hasn’t been as meteoric as Steve’s. He’s more of a character actor than Rogers; co-star material, guest star of the week. He’s got talent, sure, but it’s not as easy to read as Rogers’, not as blond All-American beefcake. People see him as potentially tragic material, the kind of character you get to love in Act I before he dies an unfortunate death in Act III with loads of tears and self-pity in between. It’s a good niche, a relatively profitable one, but it’s never translated into summer blockbuster gold. Bucky’s been up for Critics’ Choice awards twice and never won and a Golden Globe once (same result), all as Best Supporting, etc., while Rogers already has his hand on the Oscar ladder: nominated three times, won once. For Best Actor, of course. And he’d deserved it.

Maybe it isn’t so funny, then, that their paths haven’t crossed until now; different trajectories and all that. But somehow, miracle of miracles, they’re on the same set, in the same scene, playing at being boyfriends, and Bucky’s not sure how to feel. Honored? he thinks, tugging at little at his linen shirt and resisting the urge to put a hand through his professionally styled hair. Or intimidated? Yeah. Some of both.

It’s not like today’s the first day they’ve met. There’ve been three weeks of rehearsals: first on a soundstage in Rome and then scattered over some of the gorgeous outdoor locations, set ups drowning in sun and the sound of the ocean, everybody--crew and talent alike--trying to get used to the heat. It’s a period love story, this picture, a different kind of movie for Rogers, the kind of project big actors do when they want to expand their range. He’s playing a traumatized WWI veteran who’s fled to the Italian coast after the Armistice to drown the last years of horror in the beauty and solace of the sea and Bucky’s the young American he meets there, rich and handsome and sheltered, with whom Rogers’ vet falls deeply in love.

Bucky dies in the last reel--because of course he does--loses his life to pandemic flu, but not before he and Rogers’ character have the sort of love affair that transforms Rogers forever, that brings life again to the dead weight of his heart.

So there’s a great deal of kissing to be done and tasteful sex scenes to endure and they’ve sort of sketched all of that, the two of them and the director, back in Rome and a little bit on this very set--the sitting room of a small villa--and why Bucky’s head feels like a hot air balloon, his heart like a train car, he has no goddamn idea. They’re not even shooting the tough stuff today, anything that requires banana slings and the removal of clothes; it’s just a kiss, the characters’ very first one, a fevered and clandestine thing that’ll take, eh, three or four takes, tops, depending on how Kubrick the director’s feeling this morning. He can make out with Steve Rogers for the next half hour, no problem, right?

Steve, who’s as fucking wonderful as everyone says. Steve, who’s even more beautiful in person. Steve who’s funny, Steve who remembers everybody’s name, Steve who likes to talk about politics and books rather than the business, any day.

But Steve is also not perfect. That’s something Buck’s learned. He has high expectations and he rides himself hard--too hard sometimes, Bucky thinks. He remembers his mistakes and files away his successes and seems determined to make everything about the movie match the picture that the director, Nat, has in her head. Bucky doesn’t figure out until the second week that Steve’s one of the producers, that he’s paying for just about everything. It’s a pet project, one based on a book whose title Bucky can never remember, and Steve’s desire for perfection sometimes come off as controlling. He never yells or anything, never acts like a dick, but Bucky can see it on his face when he’s talking to Nat, when they’re huddled over storyboards late into the night. Steve wants the movie to work, wants the movie to fly, and sometimes it seems like he’d carry it up into the sky under his own power if he could.

Bucky likes that about him, how tough he is. How driven he is to succeed. Now the awards make sense, all the accolades; the celebration of him inside the industry and out: Steve knows what he wants and he makes it happen. It’s not a bad way to be.

That he likes Steve doesn’t surprise him because hell, everybody does. But that he finds the guy interesting as well as talented as shit and bone-crushingly beautiful--that’s come as a surprise.

Oh hell, he thinks.

There’s something different about standing here in costume, about the cameras being in place, about the knowledge that they’ll both go for it this time--no marking, no sketching, no testing of beats. Bucky knows what’s going to happen: how hard Steve will kiss him, where Steve’s hands will be, where he’ll put his own. It’s all scripted and under control and he’ll find a way to ignore the fact that Steve is ridiculously attractive, that he’s a fucking great kisser, and the inconvenient truth that the last time they’d run this scene, Bucky humiliated himself through and fucking through.

They’d been rehearsing at night, just the two of them and Natasha, the director. The house they were using was a lot cooler like that, with the sun down and the stars in abundance, and Nat had been insistent that they get in one more run before she loaded the cameras in and started futzing with sound.

“This room and you two,” Nat had said, waving them inside after dinner. “That’s all we need to make this scene work. So let’s go find it.”

She’d positioned Bucky by the settee and ordered Steve to exit stage left, ready to storm in when he called action . Then she took Bucky by the shoulders and grinned at him, his smile made easy by wine.

“He surprises you,” Nat said, quiet so only Bucky could hear. “You’re angry at him at this point. You have every goddamn right to be. But you’re also so in love with him that you can’t see straight and the moment he touches you, the moment he lets you touch him, your anger gets subsumed and the only thing you can think of is to ask for more.” She’d tipped back a little, her expression softening. “Your character, Benjamin, he’s afraid of what he feels, what he’s willing to do in this moment. I need you as an actor not to be. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Bucky had said, and he’d meant it, too, up and until Nat called a soft action and Steve blew into the room, his face already desperate.

“Benjamin,” he said, “please, you have to believe me. What you saw, what you thought you saw, it wasn’t--”

Bucky turned away, his mouth working around Benjamin’s anger. “Really? What was it then?”

“She asked me for help. She hasn’t heard from her father since the war ended and she thought I could tell her what to do, where she should start looking. And then she--she was overwhelmed by her grief.”

“So you were comforting her.”

“Yes.”

“Which required that you hold her.”

“She threw herself into my arms, Ben! What would you have me do?”

Bucky turned, his mouth curled into a sneer. “Have you do? Why, nothing at all, Captain. Your choices are your own.”

“Then why are you so angry with me?” Rogers’s voice was that of his character, Matthew; rougher than his normal tone and always a half-step from wounded. “Please, tell me. I don’t understand.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Matthew’s hand on his elbow, Rogers’ eyes locked onto his own. “No, you don’t. But I hate the idea that I’ve hurt you.”

The touch had unbalanced Benjamin; Bucky let that uncertainty show. “It’s of no matter.”

“It is .” Suddenly Rogers was in his space, his fingers sliding up to grab at Bucky’s bicep, bare beneath his thin t-shirt sleeve. “It means more than you can know.”

His Benjamin made no move to pull away; he stood as if turn to stone by Matthew’s grip, the bright, unsteady sheen of his eyes. “Then tell me,” Bucky said, reaching back towards haughty. “If it’s so vital that I understand your inexplicable behavior, Captain Arnold, then pray tell: enlighten me.”

“Oh, god,” Rogers breathed, Matthew did, and then Rogers’ mouth had been on his, trembling and yet all at once fierce. Bucky reeled, let his body tell of Benjamin’s wavering, the battle between anger and unspoken desire. His hands scattered, birds frightened by thunder, and they drifted around Steve’s shoulders, his face.

“Good,” Nat said from the sidelines. “Put them wherever you want, Bucky, but when they settled, you have to hang on.”

He settled for the back of Steve’s neck, for a knot of his fingers that left Steve nowhere to go and Steve--Matthew--moaned, a low little thing that Bucky was sure only he could here.

Steve’s tongue was in his mouth and his nails caught Bucky’s spine, raked down and dug in at the base of his back and for a long, lovely second, Benjamin couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only let his head fall back and whine.

“Oh, my beautiful boy,” Rogers murmured, rubbing his lips at the curve of Bucky’s neck. “I never imagined that you wanted me.”

“Wanted you? Wanted?” Benjamin sounded drunk, his words a hot slurry. “I’ve ached for you, my captain.”

Matthew let out a growl, more helpless than fierce, and then they were kissing again loose and wet and needy, Steve’s hand curled now around Bucky’s ass, and--

Nat clapped her hands together, a sharp, sudden staccato. “Nice work, fellas. But hang on. Run that bit for me again.”

Rogers let Bucky go and Bucky’d stepped back and found his heart pounding, his knees maybe shaking. “Which bit? Rogers asked.

Nat tapped her fingers on her chin. “From your line right before the kiss, Bucky, through to where we just stopped, please.”

They moved back into position. Bucky took a deep breath and reached back for the right moment, the right flutter inside of Benjamin’s chest. “Then tell me,” he said with an edge. “If it’s so vital that I understand your inexplicable behavior, Captain Arnold, then pray tell: enlighten me.”

“Oh, god.”

Then they were kissing again, as ardent as before. The same moan when Bucky’s arms caught around Steve’s neck, the same shudder when Steve’s nails turned down Bucky’s spine and dug in at the base.

Rogers’ mouth slid to Bucky’s throat, bit gently this time at the turn of its curve. “Oh, my beautiful boy,” he whispered, “I never imagined that you wanted me.”

“Wanted you? Wanted? I’ve ached for you, my captain.”

Rogers growled again, let both hands fall this time to the swell of Bucky’s ass, and Bucky couldn’t help but shove his hips forward, to rock against the stonework that was Steve Rogers’ thigh.

“Ah,” Nat said, her voice slicing the moment in two. “Ok, I actually like that, Steve. A little more forward than we’d talked about--”

“Yeah,” Steve said. Bucky could feel his face flush. “Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s good. It works. It just needs an equal and opposite reaction, that’s all.” She slid into Bucky’s field of vision and that’s when Bucky realized that Steve was still holding him. Neither of them had moved a centimeter. “Buck, don’t forget that Matthew is seriously out of his depth here. He plays at Mr. I Know Everything, but he’d never had anybody touch him like this and that he’s overwhelmed by what he’s feeling.”

“Right,” Bucky said. “Uh huh.”

“So when Steve grabs your ass, we need to see how that affects you.” She raised her eyebrows. “How do you think it affects you?”

“I think--I think Benjamin wouldn’t be able to control himself. He’d, ah, it’d be hard for him to deal with how good it feels.”

Steve rumbled in his chest, a sound that felt good in Bucky’s own. “I agree with you. Yes.”

Nat poked him in the shoulder. “Which means what to Matthew, then?”

“Whatever restraint he had left--and that isn’t much, believe me--is gonna get even thinner.”

Nat made a satisfied sound. “Yep. Good. So show me that this time. Start again from the same place.”

“If it’s so vital that I understand your inexplicable behavior, Captain Arnold, then pray tell: enlighten me.”

“Oh, god.”

This kiss was a collision, two bodies crashing together in space, and this time Bucky couldn’t ignore how good Steve smelled; how sweet his mouth was, how eager; how big his hands were and how fiercely they clutched at him. He wondered if he’d have bruises in the morning, if he’d wake up and feel deliciously sore, if he’d look in the mirror and see suck marks on his throat, soft marks from Steve’s teeth and get hard all over again, hard like he was now, hard against Steve’s thigh, Matthew’s, and thrusting his hips like a kid unable to do anything with desire like this, thick and overwhelming, except express it right there and then.

“Oh, my beautiful boy.” The words were rough in his ear. “I never imagined that you wanted me.”

A moan first and then the lines, reedy, half-breathless. “Wanted you? Wanted? I’ve ached for you, my captain.”

Steve squeezed his ass and Bucky cried out and shoved his hips up again and oh god, he was hard and oh god, there was no way that Steve didn’t know it, and oh god, his first movie with Steve goddamn Rogers and his dick was acting like it was still in drama school, unclear on what was make believe, and they had to stop this, he had to, why hadn’t Nat told them to--!

He yanked himself from Steve’s arms and staggered back, panting.

Nat’s voice rang out of the shadows. “Barnes? What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Steve had said, startled. “Bucky? You ok?”

“No,” Bucky had said then, whispers to himself now, waiting for the cameras to roll. “No.”

Nat holds up a hand from behind the monitor. “Ten more minutes, Buck. We’re having trouble with the boom.”

Bucky steps away from his mark and takes a breath. Another. Again.

I can do this, he tells himself. I can. It’s not just the two of us and the room. Look at all these fucking people. There’s no way that I’ll get lost in it in time. There’s zero. None.

He’s so wrapped up in his own stave off the panic bullshit that the hand on his shoulder makes him jump.

“Hey,” Steve says. He’s in full costume and makeup, Matthew’s scars from Ardenne cut on his cheek and under his eye.

“Hi.”

“You ok?”

Oh shit, Bucky thinks. Is it showing? “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

Steve looks into his eyes, keeps looking, the grip on his shoulder going tight. “I’m glad we’re starting with this scene,” he says.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

Bucky swallows. Great. He’d made Steve worry about a scene, about whether his co-star could get through it without something middle school happening. Fuck. “I’m sorry what happened the other day," he says in a rush. "When I, you know, overreacted.”

“Bucky--”

“That wasn’t cool, and I won’t--I mean, it won’t happen again.”

“Which part?” Steve says softly. “You getting off on kissing me or you running away?”

Bucky feels like is a yoyo. “Um, what?”

“Because I can handle the first one. It happens, you know?” Steve’s hand slides up to his jaw. “But the second one? Not so much.” He smiles, a glimmer that makes Bucky’s heart do a flip. “Maybe it’s a good thing you did leave, though.”

“Why?”

“I like you,” Steve says, Steve freaking Rogers, Mr. Oscar, Mr. American Icon, Mr. A+ Freaking Human. “I like you a lot, Buck. And not just because you’re a fucking great kisser. I’ve wanted to work with you for ages.”

Bucky’s stuck in a Stoppard play. Jesus. “You have?”

Steve looks surprised. “Well, yeah. Since you did The Unfinished Bombing. ”

His second movie. A low-budget thriller with aspirations of arty. It hadn’t exactly worked. “What?” Bucky says. “Nobody’s seen that. That’s like--it played for like five minutes.”

“A friend of mine worked on it. She wouldn’t shut up about how awful it was but how great you were. She sent me a copy.”

“Wow.”

“And ever since then, I’ve made a point of seeing your stuff.” Steve laughs a little. “I mean, honestly, I’ve been jealous more than a few times. The parts you get to play are always fascinating , you know? Complex. And you communicate that so beautifully through your movements and your voice and your eyes. God, Buck, you have such expressive eyes. They’re amazing.”

Bucky wants to sit down. He needs to sit down. Except Steve is still touching him. And saying nice shit about his acting. Is he dreaming? Did he fall out of bed and hit his head?

But Steve is still talking. “I mean, didn’t your agent tell you? I’m the one who asked Nat to send you this script. I knew you were perfect for it.”

“I--you...you what?”

“The second I read it, I thought, Bucky Barnes as Benjamin. No question, no doubt.”

There’s a smile on his face, he can feel it, a big, dumb smile that he cannot fucking fight back. “Christ. I had no idea.”

“So,” Steve says, “ if you hadn’t left the other night, I might have given you the wrong impression: that all I appreciated about you was how gorgeous you are. You might’ve thought I wanted you onboard just to get paid for making out with you.” He blushes, a warm rush of rose that peaks in his ears. “Oh god. This sounds awful now that I’m saying it out loud. Fuck. I didn’t--I promise you, Buck, that’s not why--”

“Shut up, Rogers,” Bucky says. “Shut the hell up.”

This time, he’s kissing Steve Rogers, full stop. This time, it’s Steve who’s pulling him close and Steve who’s stroking his back and nipping his lip and groaning softly when Bucky sucks on his tongue. There’s a room full of people behind them, around them, but all that matters in this room is the way they fit together, the idol and the character champ.

“What would you have done if I’d stayed the other night?” Bucky whispers under the hoots and catcalls from the crew.

“Easier for me to show than tell.”

“Yeah?”

Steve makes a soft, aching sound. “Mmm, definitely.”

“So,” Bucky says, a grin that’s divine, “your room later, or mine?”

[german-italian-ties]

Can You Hear Me Now

Summary: Rodreich is a deaf musician and his closest supporter is Elizabeta. Gilbert is a loud mouth flutist who likes to play air guitar and his favorite activity is to annoy his best friend Elizabeta. When Elizabeth introduces the two, Gilbert can’t help but be captured by the man and has made it his goal to be heard by the other.

A/N: I’m officially taking a break from Forget Me Not. I haven’t been getting anywhere with it so I decided to move on to other story ideas that have been waiting for me to work on them. So for inspiration for a new tatic of writing, I decided to revisit an old prompt and used it for a PruAus idea that I’ve been thinking about for a while. Hope you guys enjoy!

~*~

Gilbert stalked back and forth on the stage, unable to keep still. A few eyes watched him, people who he called in for a favor. It was already bad enough he needed to ask Elizabeta for help but for his plan to work, he needed other people. The German’s gaze moved from the floor up to the only other two people on stage with him.

The first was Emil. His tousled hair almost looked silver with the current lighting and his eyes flashed between blue and purple when his gaze jumped from the pacing man back down to his violin case. He sat on the floor, busying himself with his bow but still took occasional glances at Gilbert when he thought the other wasn’t looking. Ivan, the other, laughed at this causing Gilbert’s gaze to fall on him. The German simply frowned, giving an annoyed huff as the beige-blond fixed his pink scarf more securely around himself and shifted in his seat on a piano bench. Out of all the people he asked for help, Gilbert regretted asking him. The Russian was amused by the whole situation, annoying Gilbert to no end.

Offstage was one other person, Feliciano, a trusted friend who worked with the drama club enough to handle the curtains for the stage. He had closed the curtains not that long ago and was currently on watch for Roderich. The Italian was supposed to come back if he saw the Austrian approaching. Gilbert moved his gaze back to the ground, continuing his pacing with more vigor.

“He may be deaf, but I’m certain he’ll hear you stomping back there.” Elizabeta’s voice came from the other side of the curtain. She was smiling. Gilbert could tell just from the tone of her voice.

“Shut up! This was your idea, not mine.” Gilbert stopped pacing, choosing to sit down where he left his flute case. He had already assembled the instrument but, due to his nerves, he started taking it apart so he could put it back together again.

“We’re going to have to tune it again if you keep doing that.” Ivan commented, causing Elizabeta to laugh while the German gave him a glare. He was stating the truth, but he didn’t care. He needed to do something when trying to settle his nerves.

“You’re the one who asked me the best way to do this.” Elizabeta finally managed to say, taking a chance to peek behind the curtain to see the state of her friend, “I made a suggestion and you’re the one going all out. I’m surprised really. Never thought you had it in you to go this far.”

Gilbert was moving to get up and comment when Feliciano rushed in from the left side of the stage, “He’s coming!”

Elizabeta was quick to move away from the curtain, leaving Gilbert alone with Ivan and Emil while Feliciano moved to the controls for the curtain. He bit his lip from nerves. The German was having second thoughts. This was one of the most elaborate things he’s ever done and was on the borderline of embarrassing. Well, embarrassing to someone who openly played an air guitar with a broom as a prop with no shame.

Emil surprised Gilbert with a pat on the shoulder as he passed by, helping Ivan move the piano to position on the stage. He smiled with appreciation as he heard Elizabeta purposely greet Roderich louder than normal. As the other two got everything set up last minute, Gilbert took a moment to peek from behind the curtain.

Roderich was in the middle of the auditorium, his violin case on the floor beside him while his hands were moving to form various phrases that he couldn’t understand. Gilbert frowned and squinted to see if he could pick up on what little he learned of sign language. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite see clearly from the stage. The German sighed, wishing he put a little more effort into learning the language.

Gilbert remembered when he first met Roderich. He didn’t know what to make of the quiet man who only stared at him whenever he greeted him. At first, the German just thought that he was prissy rich kid who held himself higher than everyone around him. But when he griped about him to Elizabeta, she told him about his hearing loss. Roderich had gotten sick almost 5 years ago and because of that, he lost his ability to hear. The Austrian did have hearing aids but, for reasons Elizabeta never elaborated on, they were mostly used so he could hear his music better.

After that, Elizabeta personally went and introduced the two. The three of them would mostly meet up after school in the band room. Roderich was always playing the violin, though there were times he would dabble with the piano, and Gilbert couldn’t help but appreciate the music the Austrian played. The two of them even did a duet together, Gilbert playing his flute and Roderich on his violin. Somewhere along the way, the German found himself in a pickle. More often than he’d like to admit, Gilbert found himself trying to catch the other’s eye. It didn’t even matter if what he did made him a nuisance or not; he just wanted those violet eyes on him.

“You always act more outrageous around Roderich than normal.” Elizabeta had commented at one point after Gilbert had done something rather stupid, “It’s almost like you’re trying to get his attention.”

Gilbert had denied of course but when his brother started pointing it out, he started to become self-conscious. It wasn’t until two months ago he had actually realized his true feelings for the deaf man. The first thing he did was get Elizabeta to teach him how to sign. She had seemed suspicious at first before suddenly agreeing. He learned that she had caught on when she started teaching him how to say I love you and various romantic gestures after a couple of lessons. Gilbert almost immediately dropped the lessons right then but the girl egged him on. Unfortunately, the German got impatient and asked for a faster way to confess. That was when Elizabeta suggested playing Roderich a romantic song.

Gilbert decided right away that he was going to play it himself. He spent days looking up songs, trying to find the perfect one. After nearly a week of searching, he found one that sent out the right message. He just hoped it would impress Roderich. Elizabeta was thrown into the plan almost immediately. It was going to be easier for her to sign out the lyrics rather than having someone create a presentation to show them off. But while practicing, there was something missing.

Gilbert realized that the song he chose needed an accompanist in which he spent three days searching for someone to duet with. He was surprised to learn that Ivan was rather good at playing the piano, stumbling in on the man when meeting up with Roderich after school. The German was very hesitant in involving the Russian, but asked when he couldn’t find anyone else. Gilbert immediately liked the way the song sounded after that. Emil was actually a last minute add-on with him showing up out of the blue and joining in an impromptu moment on his violin. Liking the sound of the additional instrument, Gilbert had Emil join in on future practice sessions.

Gilbert’s mind was pulled back in the present from a cough from Feliciano and he shook his head to make him focus. The action caused the curtain to ripple and Roderich craned his head to look past Elizabeta. The German quickly jumped back, his face turning red since it looked like he was staring.

“Hm? Oh, no! Don’t be ridiculous.” Elizabeta said loudly with and equally loud laugh, “We’re the only ones here!”

“Feli, better get ready. He’s onto us.” Gilbert said, moving to pick up his flute from his case.

Ivan was in the middle of setting up some mics when the German ushered him to the piano. Emil finished it up with the help of Feliciano who ran onto the stage after noticing they weren’t fully ready. The moment the Italian turned on the mics was when Ivan and Emil started playing the song ‘Rather Be’ by Clean Bandit. Feliciano drew the curtain’s open, and once the auditorium was revealed, Gilbert was able to see Roderich sitting front row while Elizabeta stood in front of the stage. The Austrian’s gaze jumped between his two friends, surprise and confusion flashing behind his glasses.

Gilbert started playing when the lyrics were supposed to start. His focus stayed on the sitting musician as the confusion melted into pure surprise. Elizabeta signed the lyrics in time with the music, though Roderich didn’t spare her a glance. The two’s attention was only on each other and Gilbert let the music be his voice, wanting the deaf man to hear him for once. He didn’t let the music falter, even when he saw the brunet stand up half way through the performance. By the time the performance ended, Roderich was already edging towards the stairs leading up to the stage and nearly darted up them when the last note was played.

“W-Whoa, Rod!” Gilbert barely had time to put his instrument down before the Austrian reached him, signing at lightning speed, “Slow down! I don’t think Liz can translate that fast.”

Elizabeta simply laughed, leaning forward and resting her arms on the stage. “I told you he’d like it.”

“Well, what’s he saying?” The German asked, glancing at her. Roderich did the same and immediately started signing at her at the same speed.

“He said he didn’t know you could be so sophisticated.” She laughed. Roderich glanced at Gilbert and upon seeing his annoyed expression, he started signing again and gave her a frown of his own. “Hey! I only translated what you said.” Elizabeta spoke while she signed, a teasing smile on her face. “Don’t worry, I’m getting to the rest.”

She looked at Gilbert, her teasing smile turning into a smirk. “Take it as a compliment, okay? He’s surprised considering you’ve been acting more like a hooligan than normal.” The German gave her a sarcastic laugh and Roderich started signing again. Elizabeta waved a hand at him, rolling her eyes, “He wanted to know if you’re serious. He’s seen the lyrics before and wants to make sure you know the significance of those words you played for him.”

“Yes?” Gilbert raised an eyebrow and his eyes met the brunet’s questioning gaze. For some reason, it looked like the other didn’t quite believe him. “Yes, I’m serious.”

He didn’t even turn for a translation. Roderich wrapped his arms around the German and leaned up to peck his lips. Gilbert’s face flushed pink in surprise and only grew darker at the cheering and applause from the other three people on stage. The brunet’s eyes widened for a moment, almost as if he was surprised with his own actions as well, but gave the German a satisfied smile with his own cheeks brightening. He signed something and the platinum blonde looked over to Elizabeta.

“He said that he’s happy that you played for him, but you’re going to have to learn sign language. That is, unless you want to memorize more songs. He’s very willing to help me teach you.”

Gilbert looked back at Roderich, putting on a goofy half smile for him, “Challenge accepted, little master.”

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Across the Face of the Bored

by Dan H

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Dan feels like he's kicking a puppy.~

Ferretbrain regulars should already know about my sordid love affair with Trudi Canavan, an Australian novelist whose work I am guiltily fond of (I'm anxiously looking forward to the paperback release of the Black Magician prequels). Trudi writes wonderful, pacey books about spunky heroines with magic powers which are amazing fun and never get boring (well, Last of the Wilds sagged a bit if I'm honest). It was on her recommendation (well, her blurb, which isn't quite the same thing) that I picked up Russell Kirkpatrick's Across the Face of the World. 

I'll admit, I was also attracted to the sheer old-school nature of it. It's called “Across the Face of the World” for a start, and the cover depicts five people on horses riding in front of a gigantic moon. There are no fewer than five maps at the front, and at the back is a glossary which is only two pages shorter than the first chapter. It's the product of “fifteen years of careful worldbuilding” and when I say “worldbuilding” I mean “this guy is a professor of geography and boy does it show.”

So I kind of knew what I was getting into when I started it. But it came with the Trudi Canavan seal of approval, so I figured it would be slightly cheesy but good fun.

It was not good fun.

Oh, spoilers, FYI.

The story concerns a boy called Leith who lives in a remote village where he isn't terribly popular because he's slightly smaller and weaker than the other children. He has a crush on a girl called Stella (yes, Stella) but she is betrothed to another boy called ... Druin? I think? Not really sure. He is miraculously cast opposite her in the Midwinter play, and gets to do flirty improv theatre with her, before getting dragged away by his mysteriously-returned father, who has brought Terrible Danger with him.

So Leith's father and mother get kidnapped by the Lords of Fear (I kind of feel that I should have bolded that. I mean dudes: Lords of Fear) and Leith, his crippled brother Hal, the village “Haufuth” (think elder or headman) and a Simple Farmer Who Is More Than He Seems named Kurr set off to find them, and to warn the people of Faltha that they are about to be invaded by Bhrudwo.

Finding the names confusing yet? Just wait.

Stella stumbles upon the council of war, and since Leith and Hal are supposed to be dead, and they can't have anybody spreading rumours about their plan, they decide to take her with them (why no, she doesn't get any say in this, why do you ask?) when they head out to do their mission.

They pursue the Bhrudwans across the face of the ... well you get the picture. They do this very, very slowly. Very, very, very slowly.

Kirkpatrick has mapped out his world in exhaustive detail, and he leads you through every inch of it. Down every glaciated valley, past every erratic boulder, up every fold mountain and over every waterfall into every plunge pool. The single biggest impression you get from the text is “gosh, this person knows a lot about geography.” The second biggest impression you get from the text is “gosh, this dialogue is terrible and stilted and these characters are wooden and poorly realised.”

Sorry, that was bitchy of me, and I feel genuinely bad about saying it, because Russell Kirkpatrick comes across as a lovely man who has a genuine enthusiasm for his world and his story. The flyleaf informs us that:

“Russell Kirkpatrick's love of literature and a chance encounter with fantasy novels as a teenager opened up a vast number of possibilities to him. The idea that he could marry storytelling and mapmaking (his other passion) into one project grabbed him and wouldn't let go.”

How sweet is that? Unfortunately while Kirkpatrick's love of mapmaking has translated into an ability to draw pretty good maps, his love of storytelling has failed to yield similar results.

Where to begin.

Destiny Is Not A Virtue God Damn It

Throughout Across the Face of the World there is talk of “The Right Hand of God” (not to be confused with the Left Hand of God, which is Hugh Jackman). This is a dude who is totally destined to rise up and unite the disparate kingdoms of Faltha and fight off the evil Bhrudwans and defeat the Destroyer and generally be Awesomeness Personified.

The Right Hand is pretty clearly Leith. There are gigantic hints about this, almost to the extent of people coming up to him and saying “Leith Mahnumsen, You Are The Right Hand of God”.

It does not, in fact, bother me that nobody works out this extremely obvious fact. It does not bother me that Leith remains totally oblivious to the idea that he might be the Right Hand, despite meeting (a) a seer who says “you have a great destiny and will become a great leader of men” and (b) a bard who says “Hi, I'm looking for the Right Hand, who is destined to be a great leader of men, I think he might come from your home town.”

What bothers me is the fact that I am expected to give a crap.

I really hate destiny in fantasy. It's so often used to avoid explaining how a character was actually capable of achieving something. I don't mind the young orphan boy being able to pull the sword from the stone. I do mind him being able to use the damned thing without any training.

Leith has nothing to recommend him as a character. He's mopey, miserable, self-pitying and indecisive. He doesn't have hidden leadership qualities (or if he does they are fantastically wellhidden) he doesn't even have tremendous compassion (his adoptive brother Hal does, but he's clearly an angel which is kinda cheating) or unusual courage. Hell, he doesn't even get described as possessing any of these quantities. All he does is mope about the fact that Stella seems to fancy somebody else and display a vague determination to get his parents back.

I wouldn't object to this if I thought it was deliberate, if I thought somebody was going to sit Leith down and say “seriously dude, stop being such a douche” and he was going to realise that dag nammit he had a kingdom to save I'd be okay with that, but it seems very unlikely at this stage.

The thing is I do understand why you get so many fantasy heroes like this. He's an everyman or, more precisely an everygeek. He's the speccy outsider who isn't very good at sports and is no good with girls, but who is secretly special because of some innate quality which is never really explained, and which he never has to demonstrate. The recognition and validation of your individual special-unique-snowflake-ness is basically every geeks ultimate fantasy (hell it's why I write these articles, I fully expect to be given a column in the Times any day now) and like Leith we expect this validation to come not as a result of anything we have done but in recognition of who we are. It's the slightly tragic result of being picked on at school.

Where was I? Oh yes: Leith is boring, self-pitying and has the leadership potential of a pillow with an anxiety disorder. He's going to wind up saving the world and I really don't care.

Stella By Starlight

Across the Face of the World almost avoids making it onto the Fantasy Rape Watch list, but not quite. I'm not going to talk about that quite yet, though. Instead I'm going to talk about Stella.

Since pretty much forever, there's been a strong tradition in literature (particularly heroic literature – including fantasy novels and action movies) of female characters whose sole function is to act as a reward for the hero. The fact that I'm not particularly squicked out by the fact that our society sees “getting the girl” as a natural consequence of “killing the baddies” (rather than anything the “girl” has – y'know – a choice about) is one of those things which makes me rather ashamed of my own internalised prejudices. It's a trope that comes up time and again in pretty much every book you've ever read and every film you've ever seen. It should bother me more than it does, frankly, and for some reason it really bothers me here.

Maybe it's because I really didn't like Leith, but the idea that this girl had been created purely so that, at the end of the series, she could complete the protagonist's wish-fulfilment fantasy by winding up with him had me beating my head against the wall. I wouldn't mind but he isn't even particularly nice to her. He shows no actual interest in her as a person, they don't have a relationship, he sees her as a trophy just as much as Druin, the boy she's betrothed to and terrified of.

Oh yes, about that.

Stella starts the story being abducted by the company because they want to keep her quiet. This is, itself, all kinds of fucked up. I mean, I get that it's better that nobody in the village know where you're going (they say it's for the safety of the village, but seriously, when has ignorance protected anybody from anything – if Dark Lord Psychopathus thinks you know something, he'll torture you to death, period) but seriously, you guys were the ones who had a secret meeting in a public building with no locks on the doors. The fact that they won't trust her not to tell anybody (because her mother's a gossip, apparently) is also a bit iffy, it's got slight overtones of “women need to learn to keep their mouths shut” - sorry, I'm Minority Warrioring again – so, yes, abduction.

Stella does not get a choice about joining the company on their quest, but she goes along with it in the end because the alternative is to marry Druin, and be subjected to a lifetime of socially sanctioned marital rape. Being the courageous, self-actualising fantasy heroine that she is, Stella sees her abduction by the company as an opportunity to throw herself at somebody else, so she can be subjected to a lifetime of socially sanctioned marital rape by somebody less horrible.

It doesn't occur to her that she could – y'know – make a life for herself in the enormous cosmopolitan city they're going to. I know she's a girl from a small village and was probably raised with a very narrow view of her future, but I think once you've broadened your prospects to include “saving the world” I really don't think “living without a man” is too much of a stretch.

Ethnic Jokes Are So Uncouth

So the basic plot of AtFotW is that the proud lands of Faltha are home to the First Men, the chosen of God who screwed up n-thousand years ago but who are destined to reclaim their rightful place as the Chosen of the Most High and redeem the world and stuff.

Anybody want to guess what their defining racial characteristics are? I'll give you a clue, it isn't dark hair and brown eyes.

The enemy of the First Men is the evil empire of Bhrudwo. Now I'll admit here that I've not seen much actual description of Bhrudwan ethnic characteristics but they do seem to live in a desert, is all I'm saying.

Now I know making allegations of racism about a fantasy novel is, as a great man once put it, about as difficult as putting on a hat. But when your novel has as its premise that some races of people are better than other races of people, you need to be really careful before making your chosen people look quite that much like Nazi poster children.

This again probably wouldn't bother me as much as it does, but Kirkpatrick seems to have actually noticed the problem and sort-of-not-quite tried to address it. There's quite a lot of evil races in his world (the Bhrudwans, the Widuz), but Kirkpatrick keeps making embarrassingly perfunctory efforts to pretend that they are not, in fact, totally evil. Mahnum (the protagonist's father) explains at great and patronising length how the common people of Bhrudwo are really excellent people no different from you or me, before explaining how he was captured by them, tortured by them, then rescued by one of them who, when said rescuer discovered that he was not as rich as he had pretended, betrayed him to the Lords of Fear. Similarly, when the Companions encounter the Widuz, we are told carefully that they have been cruelly treated by the other people of their land, and driven ever further into the most inhospitable parts of Faltha, only to be subjected to a sequence in which the Widuz line up dozens of naked, drugged captives and throw them into a dormant volcano to appease a hungry god. And lest we forget, there is only one God that canonically exists in the setting, so while they're ill-treated they're also violent, barbaric and wrong.

Now I admit, I've only read the first book, and it's possible that it will defy all my expectations and preconceptions. It's possible that Leith will grow the hell up and show some kind of leadership qualities. It's possible that Stella will learn that she doesn't actually need to get married, and will reject Leith on the grounds that she doesn't fancy him. But I'm unlikely to find out because I'm unlikely to want to wade through another twelve hundred pages of tedious geography for the privilege.

And finally:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Approximate Number of Named Characters Who Travel with the Company: 12

Of Which Female: 3

Of Whom Have Dialogue: 2

Of Whom Motivated by Past Sexual Abuse: 1

Of Whom Motivated by Fear of Future Sexual Abuse: 1

Of Whom Die: 1

Total Deaths Among Company: 2

Number of Women Abducted by Villains: 1

Number of Women Abducted by Heroes: 1

Number of Societies Encountered in Which Women Are Treated Literally As Property: 1

Number of Male Characters Who Object To This: 0

Number of Female Characters Who Object To This: 0

Reaction of Party Member On Being Told That His Wife Is Now The Property Of Another Man: “Oh good, he'll look after her until I get back”Themes:

Fantasy Rape Watch

,

Books

,

Sci-fi / Fantasy

,

Judging Books By Their Covers

~

bookmark this with - facebook - delicious - digg - stumbleupon - reddit

~Comments (

go to latest

)

http://serenoli.livejournal.com/

at 12:00 on 2009-04-15Lol the last line. Like, seriously?

permalink

-

go to top

Rami

at 13:52 on 2009-04-15I was mostly struck by the resemblance of the cover to

a Wheel Of Time book

, when I first saw it...

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 13:57 on 2009-04-15Hey, I remember that cover - it was on the only

Wheel of Time

book I ever attempted to read.

I got halfway through the prologue before I gave up.

permalink

-

go to top

Rami

at 14:26 on 2009-04-15Don't worry, you won't have to miss out entirely -- it's allegedly coming to the big screen in 2011!

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 16:00 on 2009-04-15They're making a movie from The Wheel of Time? Wtf?! It isn't even finished... and it's really boring...

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 16:07 on 2009-04-15The long and boring nature of the Wheel of Time is actually helpful there: if they film everything then they'll still be on schedule even if the final book isn't published until 2050...

permalink

-

go to top

Rami

at 16:14 on 2009-04-15You never know, they could do something miraculous and tighten it up a lot (like the LOTR films, for instance, were tightened up) into a reasonable story...

permalink

-

go to top

Shim

at 16:19 on 2009-04-15I can see that. I mean, if you cut out most of the characters and all the sitting around angsting, it would be manageable.

permalink

-

go to top

Guy

at 16:22 on 2009-04-15I understand that, since Jordan is now writing generic fantasy for the angels, they have found someone else to finish the Wheel for him. Who was intending to write one book, but, haha, said that there was far too much stuff to wrap up in just one book so he is going to write a concluding *trilogy*.

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 20:16 on 2009-04-15

Lol the last line. Like, seriously?

Seriously, but deliberately taken out of context for maximum d'oh value. Said character is, in fact, a member of the treats-women-as-property community (albeit an adopted one) so it's not like his wife was just snatched away from him by people they met on the road, and he does know the guy she's given to personally so it's not completely psychotic. So the line is more "I know X will take good care of her". It's still kind of messed up though.

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 20:38 on 2009-04-15

there was far too much stuff to wrap up in just one book so he is going to write a concluding *trilogy*

You know what's going to happen, don't you?

He's going to write books one and two, and then die horrifically, at which point somebody else will get brought in to finish the trilogy, and decide that actually they'll need to divide the final volume into two parts, finish the first part and then they'll die as well at which point somebody else...

It'll become this terrifying horror story about the fantasy series that kills anybody who touches it.

permalink

-

go to top

Guy

at 03:56 on 2009-04-16I thought you were going to say, he's going to write books one and two, then realise that one book just really isn't *quite* enough to wrap up everything that needs to be wrapped up, so he'll extend the series by just a few more books... &c... but I like your version too. :)

permalink

-

go to top

http://pozorvlak.livejournal.com/

at 11:51 on 2009-04-16I just wanted to say that Leith is the name of where I live. I don't know if that's a coincidence or further evidence of Kirkpatrick's deep love of geography, but it made the review rather confusing for me to read.

permalink

-

go to top

http://sistermagpie.livejournal.com/

at 21:02 on 2009-04-21Awww. It really is kind of a textbook fantasy book. I find myself liking the author even while cringing at the thought of reading the book.

permalink

-

go to top

Rami

at 10:54 on 2009-04-22

liking the author even while cringing

Yeah, me too. If he spends that long lovingly building a fantasy world I get the feeling it'd be really fun to be sitting there exploring it with him, just riffing on ideas like what the people in the desert kingdom to the south wear.

On the other hand, that has very little to do with actually writing a good book :-(

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 13:31 on 2009-04-22There's a rather cute bit on his website where he says that writing his books takes roughly 500 hours to write, with a further *thousand* hours of worldbuilding...

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 14:38 on 2009-04-22Sigh. I'm pretty damn sure it should be the other way round ...

permalink

-

go to top

http://scipiosmith.livejournal.com/

at 18:23 on 2012-04-03

Now I admit, I've only read the first book, and it's possible that it will defy all my expectations and preconceptions. It's possible that Leith will grow the hell up and show some kind of leadership qualities. It's possible that Stella will learn that she doesn't actually need to get married, and will reject Leith on the grounds that she doesn't fancy him. But I'm unlikely to find out because I'm unlikely to want to wade through another twelve hundred pages of tedious geography for the privilege.

Kind of, as far as Leith goes. Instead of displaying any fantastic qualities book 3 becomes a rather hilarious deconstruction/parody of the idea of the Chosen One, as he leads his followers from one epic fail to the next before God and Hal save the day at the last possible second.

Stella on the other hand is treated rather savagely; by the end of the trilogy she's been seduced by the Dark Lord's trusted lieutenant (whom she does, in fairness, cause to be killed by the Dark Lord), then prematurely aged and palsied down one side by the Dark Lord during his enslavement of her, develops kind-of Stockholm syndrome before being rescued by God, and still marries Leith at the end.

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 18:11 on 2012-04-04

Instead of displaying any fantastic qualities book 3 becomes a rather hilarious deconstruction/parody of the idea of the Chosen One, as he leads his followers from one epic fail to the next before God and Hal save the day at the last possible second.

Obviously I've not read the book, but based on this very loose description, I'm not sure that constitutes a parody or deconstruction, so much as a fairly straight implementation of the trope. Sometimes it's authorial fiat, rather than a literal divine intervention, but the way the Chosen One narrative usually works (in my experience) is that they fuck up continuously for most of the story, then have everything come out alright at the last possible minute.

c.f. John Sheridan, Harry Potter, later Buffy, and so on.

permalink

-

go to top

James D

at 20:10 on 2012-04-04Yes, a better deconstruction of the trope would have the "Chosen One" be actually worthy of the title, but simply lose because the enemy is better at fighting and it was stupid to expect to win or even try to fight. The bad guys end up being magnanimous in defeat and things go back to the way they were, which wasn't so bad anyway, minus a bunch of warmongering rebels. The End. Maybe throw in a dash of how the former Confederate US is with its "The South Will Rise Agin!" mantra, playing up big gubmint being evil, states' rights being good, and conveniently lionizing the rebels while whitewashing the whole slavery issue. I guess the protagonist could be some sort of impressionable youth who buys the whole story.

There are probably already a hundred authors who've deconstructed the trope at length, to the point where its deconstruction is itself a trope. Such is modern fantasy. To be perfectly honest though, it just doesn't seem like a particularly interesting trope to deconstruct, because once examined at all it becomes so transparently stupid that hardly any deconstruction is required to lay that inherent stupidity bare. As mentioned in the review, the concept of a "Chosen One" is just more bald-faced adolescent wish-fulfillment fantasy.

permalink

-

go to top

http://scipiosmith.livejournal.com/

at 17:45 on 2012-04-05

Obviously I've not read the book, but based on this very loose description, I'm not sure that constitutes a parody or deconstruction, so much as a fairly straight implementation of the trope. Sometimes it's authorial fiat, rather than a literal divine intervention, but the way the Chosen One narrative usually works (in my experience) is that they fuck up continuously for most of the story, then have everything come out alright at the last possible minute.

I think the difference is one of textual support. You can read the later Harry Potter books as the story of someone bumbling from one disaster to another, but that is not supported by the text which insists that Harry is a Hero with capital H to the point that even after his apparent defeat and death people remain loyal to his memory.

On the other hand, when Leith is loudly called out for every mistake he makes, called out for sulking about getting called out, and by the end of the war is getting pissed on by the common soldiery for his suckage (even Charlie Brown thinks he's a loser by this point) it's hard to argue that 'Leith is Useless' is not what the text expects you to take away.

It's also possible to interpret that Hal, who bears his brother's accusations of treason without complaint, dies in Leith's place and then comes back to life temporarily in time to save the day, was the real Right Hand of God all along, but then Leith was the one hearing God's voice in book 2 so that would be strange.

permalink

-

go to top

Tamara

at 23:08 on 2014-01-28How geekily-particular is it that what bothers me about this review is the implication that geographers make for tedious worldbuilding? I'm not-so-many credits away from a geography degree and love it to pieces, and it's totally obvious to me that the use of a solid foundation in geography in fantasy worldbuilding should be one of experimentation and exploration of spaces and landscapes that can't exist in reality, not the fussy construction of super-accurate worlds. The City and The City or The Half Made World is my idea of a great geography porn genre book, not something with really nicely mapped drainage basins. Just needed to say that, oh very old article about a series long since off the radar.

[ruffoverthinksthings]

I've thoroughly enjoyed the Claudine/Frollo headcannons, do you have any in mind for Esmeralda/Phoebus? If the sequel movies are wiped from this universe, that means their son doesn't exist (or not yet). Also, do you have another headcannon for onesided fresme on frollo's part? How would he handle being unable to obtain her in this universe?

Ilike to believe the sequels and spin-offs are valid, as the bookseries (which is, as of the Rise of the Isle of the Lost, is canon…to a certain extent) makes reference to characters that could onlyexist outside of the original movies, such as:

Diegode Vil, presumably the child of Ivy de Vil from the 101 DalmatiansTV series, or a descendant from the rest of the extended de Vilfamily, and

Jade,Jay’s cousin and presumably the daughter of Nasira, Jafar’ssister from the Aladdin video game series

There’sa level of personal bias, with the amount of work I’ve already putinto expanding the world with my own ideas, but I think we can allagree that the Isle and Auradon would be a whole lot less interestingif we didn’t have the likes of:

Mozenrath(Aladdin animated series) acting as Maleficent’s longsuffering middle manager, and personal chew toy as an “inferiormagical being,”

LadyWaltham (Tarzan animated series) adding an element of sympathyto the Isle of the Lost with her regretting her brother Clayton andher nephew are still on there and unable to return, and

LadyCaine (Tangled: Before Ever After), who adds a deliciouselement of grayness and a MASSIVE stain on the otherwise pristinereputation all sympathetic Disney monarchs have.

Ontothe headcanons:

Phoebusbecomes one of the new Captains of the Guard in France once theoriginal forces are merged with, or completely replaced by the newlyestablished Auradon Royal Guard. Though the actual administrative andexecutive power lies much higher up the ranks (such as theCommander-In-Chief, Beast), he himself is an incredibly influentialmember, well-known and well-loved by the citizenship and the fellowsoldiers he patrols the streets with.

Auradonhad to rely heavily on translators, human and machine, or translatingmagic during its tumultuous first years, as everyone struggled tofind one common language for every state to use as the internationalstandard (it’s English still). A LOT of things get lost intranslation or don’t translate too good into another language, orsomeone gets VERY offended when someone who is fluent in both Frenchand Chinese tells you exactly what they meant, and howunflattering it is.

Andthis isn’t even going into all the numerous cultural clashes andfaux paus, such as one unfortunate Louisiana chef realizing you’renot supposed to serve pork to most Agrahbans until he was alreadyuncovering the dish...

Phoebusbridges the gap through his calm, professional demeanor, alwaysshowing politeness and civility to everyone whoever they may be, andof course, his sense of humour, given “a real workout” when hehas to figure out how to make someone laugh with universallyunderstood comedy (someone falling face first into a pile of horsedung), non-verbal humour (wearing a silly, pink, fuzzy bunny earswhilst on duty), and using simple plays on word that foreigners caneasily get, or are tailored specifically to their language.

“Inever quite realized eggs could be such a huge source of humour,”he muses when he has to speak to Spanish speaking citizens.

However,his usefulness quickly dwindled as the culture clashes settled down,people started learning English, and of course, the already olderPhoebus found himself growing ever older and unable to keep up withthe rapid pace of advancement and pop culture references in Auradon,not to mention his disadvantage of “not being gifted a smartphonefor my first birthday.”

Hehas an incredibly cushy administrative position that pays well,commands respect from his soldiers still, and gives him great hoursto spend with his family and other pursuits, but as he’s no longergoing out (or being allowed) on patrols and interacting personallywith the people in his jurisdiction, he can’t help but wonder ifhe’s just being eased into the idea of retirement, and Auradon issimply too nice to boot him for the much feared “chainsaw HR” ofsome corporations from BGU London.

(Forthose not familiar with the term, “chainsaw HR” is when entiredivisions, and numbers into the hundreds are suddenly, and oftentimeswithout proper recompense or retirement packages, fired or forcedinto early retirement.

It’sa play on the term “axed” for being suddenly fired, and chainsawsbeing a modern, much more efficient tool for the same job as aliteral ax.)

It’ssafe to say that at the age of 55 or so, and having already lived oneillustrious career then a brief revival, he’s having a midlifecrisis, not helped by the fact that many other Auradonians about hisage are feeling as obsolete as last year’s ayGem.

(“Butit came out just a year ago!”

“Yeah,but they updated to a new, much better firmware and hardwarearchitecture, all the hot new apps don’t even bother with legacyupdates.”)

Esmerelda has fared much better.

Shehas become an activist in this world, using the power of theinternet, the normalization of the “other,” and the erasure ofthe national and ethnic boundaries that once separated communities tohelp her fellow Romani people (I won’t use “gypsies,” as that’san offensive term to them), and other marginalized, and forgottengroups, such as much of the Wild Fae population.

Shealso owns and teaches at a dance studio, using them to train the nextgeneration of performers (“Be they for the street, the stage, orthe screen”), and waging a subtle campaign to remove the stigma forblatant and shameless use of sexuality.

I’vealways known Auradon is a conservative wet dream in many respects,and the fact that ripping a tiny tear in your skirt is considered“scandalous” by teenagers says a lot.

Beforeyou ask, YES, Esmerelda is still as desired and lusted afternow as she was BGU—probably even more so, now that we have thecombined populations of all the states, and she is a very popular andcommon presence on the internet.

Beforeyou also ask, Phoebus has long gotten over it and considers it “partof the package.”

Sheis one of the most knowledgeable and well-versed with moderntechnology out of the “Travellers” (Auradonians who were adultsor close to it Before Great Uniting), seeing as her troupe ofperformers have always been highly adaptable and all to ready to dowhatever it takes to survive, fit in with the locale they have foundthemselves in, and afterwards, thrive.

Thatthey have generally relied on being couriers and brokers ofinformation, and the internet basically being a giant free market ofinformation has helped GREATLY.

Withher religion, she still isn’t 100% on the existence of God, onlyever praying to Him during times of crisis or as a show of good faithwith the religious institutions of Auradon, but the Greek Pantheonhas given her hope that Supreme Beings like Him do exist.

“Atthe very least, He’s been very light on throwing down lightningbolts from up on high.”

(Thoughmuch less murderous and many other negative traits than the original,Disney Zeus is still INCREDIBLY fond of “warning shots.”)

Andonce more, before you ask, I can seriously see her making a cameo inthe canon as a guest dance instructor for the Descendants, if sheisn’t already a full-time staff member of Auradon Prep, and yes,she would definitely mentor Evie by showing her much healthier waysof expressing her sexuality and femininity without feeling like she’sdegrading herself, or turning herself into a “slab of meat in thebutcher’s window.”

Zephyrwas born BGU, and if my idea that the states had been communicatingfor a few years before the idea of fusing is canon, has a veryunique perspective of being a “Traveler Tot,” living with theideas and concepts imported over through the portals andcommunication crystals, before he got to live it in Auradon when thetechnology and materials could be more easily accessed and produced.

Heis still hyperactive and excitable as ever, though most of that wasbeing channeled into a combination of soldier training and becoming acircus performer like his parents; in his mind, there really isn’tmuch difference between the two, as they both require incrediblephysical skill and endurance, a sharp and creative mind, andrelentless, dedicated training, day-in, day-out.

“Itall really comes down to what you mean when you say you ‘slayedthem,’” he says.

Thisquickly changes in Auradon when he finds himself addicted to HeroRising, the video game that Carlos was seen playing during hisfirst night in Auradon. While initially Phoebus sees it as a good wayfor him to blow off all his excess energy and get some physicaltraining done, and Esmerelda tolerates it as he’s not going offstealing and rearranging stop signs, it evolves into something muchmore for him in time.

Atfirst, he’s the best player on the block, then in theneighbourhood, then the school, then the city, then the state, andfinally, one of the Hall of Famers in Auradon. As he grows older, hejust barely passes his high school subjects as a conditional for hissponsors support and working with the Hero Rising developersas a PR person, community idol AKA a “Paragon,” and beta tester.The height of his fame and success comes when the latest release,Hero Rising: The Lost Legion, features a new playablecharacter based off of him, and his unique dance-like fighting style:

“Twister.”

Trueto the name, his life is sent into a spin cycle after that.

Afew years pass, a new Hero Rising is released, and everyone isgushing over the new characters, and Twister gives up his place onthe cover art alongside the series “cornerstones” to give them achance to shine.

NewParagons are brought in as the old guard goes off to college, retiresfrom the business into different, less-demanding pursuits, or isquietly given a send-off as they simply aren’t as salable nor asgood as they were a few years ago.

Zephyrquickly realizes that while he’s still got it, these new kids areinsane, and have so many advantages he didn’t, like muchbetter nutrition, a much more generous school schedule, and havingthe infrastructure, the audience, and the sponsors for Hero RisingParagons already there, rather than helping spearhead them.

Hecontinues on, making less and less public appearances, awkwardlybeing one of the only adult Paragons in crowds increasingly filledwith little kids and teenagers, and new characters based off the newParagons get the spotlight.

“Everyonealready knows Twister, and played him to death in all the specialinstance maps, the players want someone new!”

Thedeath-knell of his career and the cold, hard slap from Reality comeswhen Twister is removed from the roster due to development costs, andthe fact that Zephyr’s fees and royalties were considered too highfor the relatively lower cost of a new, fresh face who the fans aremuch more eager to see digitized.

Heand Phoebus both find themselves facing obsolescence, being leftbehind by a world that has simply moved too fast for them and leftthem in its dust, as they were only ever good at one thing each:fighting, either real bad guys or fictional ones.

Andso, with Esmerelda’s love and support, the two go off to reeducatethemselves and train in the new industries and careers Auradondemands, incidentally becoming the inspiration for the blockbusterfeel good movie of eight years from this time of writing:

“WithHonours”

Thestory of how a father and son went back to college, forced to startfrom scratch in a brand new world, learning new tricks, makingstrange friends, and doing a whole lot of growing up they didn’tknow they still needed to do.

Nowonto Frollo:

Helaments his permanent loss of Esmerelda (unlike the other Villains,he harbours no fantasies of Claudine getting him off the Isle—notwhen there’s still so much Good Work to be done here in this landof Sinners and Nonbelievers), and takes the disastrous results of hisobsession and lusting after her as a cautionary tale, the catastrophethat befalls those who turn away from God and the Right Path, and howthey take the whole world down with them.

Publicly,he is “that” preacher yelling about modesty, the sanctity ofmarriage and sexuality, and how pretty much everyone on theIsle is damned for engaging in such scandalous, salacious acts likepremarital sex, sexual intercourse without the intention ofprocreation, and of course, homosexuality.

Privately,he seeks a form of redemption by raising a good, Christian child inClaudine, the child he would have born with Esmerelda and raised ifcircumstances had been different (yeee-eep), and is looking for awoman with whom he can have a much healthier relationship with, toshow someone from this Isle what marriage and the word “love”truly means than the perversion the Islanders have turned it into.

Asboth Claudine and Not Esmerelda will attest to, he’s failedmiserably on both counts, but as usual, is blissfully unaware ofeither.

[mfmagazine]

Kate Levering

Article by Lauren Weigle

Photo by Kate Szatmari

William Esper once said that, “Actors think more with their hearts than with their heads.” Such is the case with professional actor Kate Levering. She puts her whole heart into all that she does, particularly when it comes to her career. Having conquered both the big and small screen in addition to Broadway, Levering is currently seen every Sunday on the hit series Drop Dead Diva. Don’t worry… she’s not the hardcore bitch that she plays on the show. She’s actually a friendly, family-oriented, down-to-earth chick who’s not all wrapped up into the Hollywood scene. If you don’t believe me, read here for yourself.

Let’s dive right in… You’ve had guest spots on so many prominent TV series’ including Las Vegas, Ghost Whisperer, CSI: Miami, and countless others. What other hit shows from your resume can you tell me about?

Let's see...Cashmere Mafia was a super fun, but short-lived television show that unfortunately died because of the writers’ strike. A series called Kevin Hill. LOTS of guest star roles, and obviously Drop Dead Diva for the last 3 years.

I understand you originally got your start in theatre and Broadway. Tell me about it.

I started dancing professionally when I was 13 years old. By the time I was fifteen, I was doing a production of West Side Story in Europe and starting to leave school a lot to perform. I actually missed my high school graduation because I was performing in Boston, which kinda makes me sad when I think about it now. Musical theater was my first love and so moving to New York to pursue Broadway after I graduated high school was a no brainer...it was the natural next step for me.

Is Broadway still on your mind or are you more focused on TV and film?

I've taken a very long break from performing on stage. I did six Broadway shows in the eight years I lived in New York...my body needed a break! Now that I've been away for so long I definitely have an itch to come back. The high of performing live is a craving that never goes away for me.

Are there any Broadway roles out there right now that you would love to take on?

Roxie Hart (in Chicago) is a dream role for me. I gotta get my agents on that! Also, they are about to revive Annie. I think I could play Grace Farrel.

I bet! So, let’s talk about movies. What was your experience on Like Dandelion Dust? I see it won some cool awards.

Like Dandelion Dust was a labor of love, no question. A lot of people poured their hearts and souls into making that movie, including all the actors. The acting was highly emotional all the time, so for me, I lived in a pretty dark space for the month that I shot...after the movie wrapped it took me a bit of time to emerge from that place. I'm really proud of that film. Everyone's love of the project shows on the screen.

Let’s talk about your role on the TV show Drop Dead Diva as Kim Kaswell. I hear Kim is quite the tough cookie.

Ha! Yes, Kim can definitely be a bitch.

Well, other than her pure bitchiness, what do you feel your character brings to the show?

Kim plays many roles. She can show up as the antagonist, the sassy, sexy opportunist/manipulator, a shark in the courtroom, and, as of recently, we've been seeing a much softer side to her. She had her heart broken at the end of last season, so that kind of cracked her wide open.

So, other than reading a “How To” book on being a bitch, what went into creating the character of Kim for you personally?

I was on another law show for a season, so I was familiar with the procedural feel of spending days at a time shooting in a courtroom...those are loooong days! Personally, I actually sat in a courtroom for a month with a family member and was intimately involved in a trial. I can say this: TV cases are much more exciting than real life.

I guess I’ll just stick to Judge Judy for my next court visit then, huh? So what’s life like on the set of the show?

I love going to work every day. Soup to nuts, I love everyone who works on our show...our crew is amazing, our cast gets along incredibly well. Overall, I'd say there is a lot of laughter. It's just a fun and safe environment to be creative in.

How about the behind-the-scenes? What’s life like with the cast off-set?

We are all great friends. We shoot on location in Georgia, and it's kind of like being at summer camp for five months. We're all away from our homes and significant others. The result is that we end up spending 24/7 with each other. We work all day together, go eat dinner, study our scripts, and hang out on the weekends. I think the chemistry of our relationships off-screen translates to the work. It's kind of genius really...throw a bunch of insecure actors into an environment where they're isolated and don't really know anyone and watch them grasp onto each other, and only focus on work.

Well, tell me about when you’re away from the cast. What’s daily life like for you outside work?

I spend a lot of time with my dog, my family, and my friends. I live between Newport Beach and LA, so you'll rarely catch me in LA as a part of "the scene". The game of Hollywood has never appealed to me, so I tend to stay as far away as I can. When I'm not working I have a totally different life and am constantly traveling. I actually leave for Africa on Friday!

Africa?! Wow! You’ll have to tell me all about that trip! So, with all your traveling, work, etc., do you have much time to actually watch any of the shows you’ve been on?

I always try to watch Drop Dead Diva every Sunday. When we're in Atlanta the cast will try to watch it together. For me, it's nice to see the result of those thirteen-hour shooting days. People might be amazed to know that it takes eight, approximately thirteen-hour days to make 45 minutes of television! Plus, it's nice to celebrate everyone's work.

Are you one of those people who cringe watching themselves onscreen or do you love every moment?

I have been known to get up and walk out of a room, yes. There are times when I'm proud of my choices and times when I cringe, moan, and groan. It's part of being an actor...the performance is rarely just what you want it to be.