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inbloomis · 1 month

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Tarot (2024) Spoiler Review 🃏

During its theatrical run, Tarot seemed to rack up nothing but scathing reviews. They gave me some very good laughs, but now I've done my time and watched the film to form my own opinion on it. Did the film infuriate me like it did others? Fortunately, no. Is it still a bad film? It sure is, and it never tries to mask it.

The film follows a group of college students who, after having their horoscopes read using a strange tarot deck, are haunted by deadly supernatural forces that manifest according to their readings. It's a fun premise, but the film lacks the thoughtful writing needed to execute this idea well. The result is a cheesy, by-the-numbers, and unambitious film that plows through every dull trope you could imagine, as if its driver is asleep at the wheel on an obstacle course. This may not have earned my ire, but it's understandable why many viewers were left irritated. It doesn't feel like anyone put effort into developing the script (or at least, the scares), leaving the audience feeling disrespected and the poor actors to try to make the most of what they're given.

And they're given virtually nothing. Every character is so paper thing, their names are hardly important. Each of the friends are better off remembered by their zodiac signs, which foretell a zodiac-specific character flaw that will lead each of them to their deaths. They don't have much characterization outside of having to fulfill the basic qualities of their respective zodiac sign to set the premise into a very slow and contrived motion. As a result, we don't know why we're meant to care about anything happening for the first half of the film. It's not one of those films that intentionally and expertly leaves you lingering in mystery at the start. Tarot just doesn't offer any particular reason for its existence. We simply drop into the lives of these random young adults, having a random hangout day involving these seemingly random tarot cards, after which they will randomly meet their gruesome fates because... FATE.

There is no pre-told destiny from which the character are already trying to escape. None of the characters have done anything so wrong as to warrant their haunting. No character is going through a particularly vulnerable character arc that will fuel the plot. The film is just a less-than-half-baked idea to make fortune-telling horrifying based on the iconic symbols of the Major Arcana of a tarot deck.

Because the film establishes tropes instead of actual human beings as its characters, we don't have subplots to anticipate that can lead to disaster. We just know people are going to start dying. And to anticipate every death, you have to memorize every horoscope. Even the filmmakers knew that was a colossal task to put on the audience, because every time a character neared death, flashback audio would play reminding us of each character's fortune. So there's no suspense and no surprise because every death has to be quickly, weakly, and oh-so-routinely justified before it occurs.

The film only finds a little bit of purpose halfway through, when backstory is provided on the tarot deck. The cards were first used by a woman who lived in the 18th century and is referred to only by the very creative title, Astrologer. She cursed the deck to bring death to all who use it, as revenge for the actions of...one man. It's an extreme reaction, but I let it be, as the Astrologer's backstory at least gives a sense of purpose and direction to the film. It becomes abundantly clear that the Astrologer is meant to serve as the antithesis of the film's destined final girl Haley (Harriet Slater), who led the horoscope reading that caused the film's chain of events in the present.

Both Haley and the Astrologer harbor grief over the death of a loved one. But it is how they respond to their tragic losses that define the outcome of the film's events. Haley, who has learned to accept her mother's passing but not give up on her own future, emerges victorious. However, the Astrologer, still so embittered by her daughter's death that she wishes harm on the world, finally perishes.

Out of context, that last paragraph sounds very meaningful, but the film's exploration of overcoming grief is flimsy and unfocused. It prioritizes a mundanely-executed haunting of the entire cast over properly centering Haley. The film doesn't place a targeted focus on how she copes with death now compared to how she handled her mother's passing, neither in reaction to her friends' death nor in contrast to her friends' own coping methods. So, when the juxtaposition of Haley and the Astrologer's characters are set up, it's too little, too late. We've already wasted time before and after the Astrologer's backstory, watching characters die, either because they were simply caught off guard (which gives no room for characterization as they're robbed of agency) or because they made some painfully stupid decision. They amount to nothing more than cannon fodder. And the film doesn't offer anything else for the audience to chew on.

The film makes numerous attempts at humor, but the overwhelming majority of these jokes fall flat, and the comedic scenarios written around Paxton (Jacob Batalon) in the film's second half are tonally dissonant. The designs of the threats that manifest from the tarot deck are bland, the horror sequences lack any kind of scariness or tension, and the kills are uncreative and underwhelming. There isn't anything in this film to please any kind of crowd.

The film can be best embodied by one of its own quotes:

“The Death card can mean the end of something or the start of something new. But in this case, it just meant death.”

Tarot had the potential to produce an imaginative and immersive experience for the audience. But at every turn, it chose the most mundane path — if said path even made any sense at all. The most Tarot manages to accomplish is that, in all of its basic decision-making, it also provides the most basic level of entertainment. I wasn't enjoying the film, and I was just barely engaged by it, but at least I didn't turn the film off or fall asleep. For that, I give the film a 4/10.

#22 Major Arcana and the writers chose Death as the big bad #How original...#Tarot #Tarot (2024)#horror movies #film review #movie review #horror #bad movies #2024 films

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voidswithinvoids · 2 months

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Part IV: A Reoccurring Dream

“… and in these dreams she is on top of him. Touching him in all the ways.. the ways I have always wanted to be touched. They are naked. But.. maybe that’s obvious. People are usually naked when they have sex, right? I suppose I wouldn’t be an expert on the matter. But from the films and I guess maybe the porn I’ve seen. People are usually naked when they have sex. Like, completely naked. And those people in porn never seem to be ashamed of their bodies. They never get tired or awkward or cum too early. And there is something to how they know how to take each others clothes off..

I think maybe my mind was pulling footage from some porn video I had seen. I only say this because whenever I’ve had sex, I had at least some clothes still on. And usually when I have had sex it was much darker in the room. And there are heavy blankets covered up the scene. With porn they bring in the big studio lights. Bodies glisten together with the perfect amount of sweat. And there are all these intense moans and groans..

I’m not sure why I’m talking about porn, sorry. Umm.. right. The dreams? Yes, the dreams are like porn. And much like porn, the viewer is hardly a participant. More like a sorry spectator lusting after some far off fantasy. But in this scenario it’s Fiona. And it’s no fantasy. It’s Fiona and she touching him. The way that I’m sure she’s touched him before. And of course.. that’s okay. They were together after all. That’s more than okay, I should want good things for my partner after all. A full life full of sex, excitement, and all sorts of intimacies. Who am I to be jealous or frustrated at something I have struggled to satisfy her in. If anything my own dreams have invaded Fiona’s privacy. What right did I have to imagine her body like this? She had not consented to me watching a self made dream porn starring her and her ex. It’s disturbing on multiple levels, I know. It’s fucked, right? I don’t know. I don’t know. Why am I like this? Why would my mind show me that. I didn’t want to see that. I didn’t want to feel this way.

God.. anyways. In these dreams. She’s on top of him. They are naked in my bed. In our bed. And she’s happy. Which you might be thinking, broke my heart.. seeing another man fuck your fiancée. But it wasn’t that kind of happiness. It was distorted, maybe even manic? I say happy because of the big grin on her face. In most of the porn I’ve watched the woman is usually screaming with what is suppose to be pleasure. There isn’t usually a lot of smiling, and definitely not a lot of laughter. But there she was, riding on top of him, laughing with that big grin on her face. That’s what it looked like initially at least. But the dream felt like it lasted hours. And maybe looking back on the dream, maybe it was a bit strange that they never really changed positions in all this time. It was always her on top of him. Maybe that’s interesting.

Perhaps it is normal for time to slow when you watch something like that. And again, I am no expert in sex. But after that long period of time her face changed. Or perhaps it had always been that way and I was just now noticing it. But her teeth were clenched and were grinding together. And her makeup was runny with her wet eyes. I watched her face twist and I could hear a hissing laughter emanating through her bared teeth.

Of course in dreams everything is rational. Everything is making sense while I’m in this dream world. Nothing is out of sorts, no matter how strange. So it wasn’t strange when I reached out to hold her.. to wrap my arms around her and receive her. To steal her back. Fuck. Can you believe that? To steal her back? Who the fuck am I?

What ever my sad open arms were meant to signify, nothing became of it. I took a step onto the bed and I saw my pale leg jiggle as it empresses itself onto the mattress. It looked bare, hairless, a little dry and scabby. I suddenly realized I was standing there in that room just as naked as the two of them, watching this sex scene unfold. And just as I became aware of my nakedness, the two of them seemed to become aware of me in the room. I tried to quickly cover myself. I couldn’t bare them seeing my nakedness. What a hypocrite, hey? After all the watching I had just done.. But the worst part.. why the fuck am I like this? God. Fuck. The worst part is that in the dream I had been aroused. I looked down with my hand around.. I hate that part of the dream. Why in god’s name would I have a hard on there? Whatever, I don’t want to talk about that.

The two of them looked at me as I stumbled back into the corner of the room. They stared deep into me. Their eyes felt piercing. Judging. As if I had done something wrong. As if I had been the one cheating. As if I deserved to be cheated on and to watch as it happened. As if I were the pervert with the hard on watching from the corner of the room. As if I had all but undressed the two of them and pushed these things into motion.

Honestly I’m not sure. Maybe my subconscious mind is urging me to notice something. Maybe I should find a dream interpreter. Maybe Fiona is unsatisfied. God, of course she’s unsatisfied, that’s hardly in question. And it’s because of me, right? I can’t give her what she wants. I keep failing. I keep not being enough. How do I do better? How can I win her back? There’s still time right? A dream is a fiction. A non reality. None of that has really happened and none of that will happen. It’ll be okay. We’ll get married and it will be okay. She said she loved me and she does. Of course she does. We’re getting married. We have the venue and the photographer booked. We made a list of all the people we love and have the places around tables. We tried on rings. She loves me. I have letters and letters that say she loves me. And there is always time to do better, right?

The dream ended with the two of them dropping open their jaws and screeching out the most horrible whining noise. It was blood curdling. A horrible banshee orgasm that shook that dream bedroom. That’s when I woke up sweating in that same bed with Fiona next to me. I quickly realized that it was our dog who was making that unbearable whining sound and wanted to be let out to pee in the backyard. Fiona threw a slipper at me as I stumbled out of bed too slowly, making my way towards the back door. I always moved too slowly and it had seemed that I had disturbed a dream she was having.”

#fiction #short story #dreams #nightmares #shame

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

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Quite interesting what you expose about Queer baiting, I had thought that some media accidentally creates a fandom who is reading too much into it (some fandoms sometimes just cling to strays with their desperate need when there hardly is anything to read), but I seriously had my doubts about Supernatural and Sherlock. Mainly because it was kind of cruel on their parts when they eventually knew the kind of fandom they got as the years progressed. They went to conventions and they made exclusive fan interactions. I would think that the producer's, writers, directors and actors would take a least a bit of interest on the people who were the greatest contribution to their success.

Let's not kid ourselves, those numbers and sales of merchandise and the hype, can only be ignited and rallied by the really intense fans. Or at least that's what used to think. So of course it wouldn't be that much of a stretch of imagination that this "silly gay joke" was in fact a concealed slap in the face to the fans for wishing to see something they desired. Like spraying the fans with water like unruly cats needing to calm the duck down. I was a bit disappointed by Mark Gatiss, being gay and all, but of course, being gay doesn't automatically made you a political woke rebel with a discurse to change the world (I would know, being an old trans who wants nothing but to cisspass and live in the crowd irl)

I suppose that in the end, it's true that we are a meaningless number in the capitalistic industry of entreteiment, and that the old idea that the fandom has any kind of pull over their favorite shows is just a delusional idea.

But still, an unintentionally wrong doing, it's still a wrong doing. It means that representation still is a problem because the creators and powers that be, don't even acknowledge that people exist in the first place. They may be not evilly toying with us, but is worse when they don't even think we exist.

And when they do, like Netflix and most of his shows, it's just so poorly done for shock value and token representation that is often, just cringe worthy. Anyways, I would like your opinion on the bury your gays trope.

I mean, for while gays were dropping like flies on violent tv shows. Like dude, we are the new POC on a horror movie?. Gays died second lol. Example, the Chubby chick in The Walking Dead. Like literally seconds after saying she's a lesbian. She drops dead unexpectedly. And come on, even if its one of those "anyone can die type of show" that was... ridiculously dumb when they spend whole episodes bulling her story.

I agree that shows are bad at queer rep.

But I disagree that Sherlock was bad in this way. It did plenty of other things wrong (like Irene Adler), but it started out intending not to go for Johnlock, and it continued not to go for Johnlock.

I know that fans assumed TPTB were lying because they lied about other things, but they were still quite clear that canon Johnlock was not part of their plans.

Big media is often quite homophobic, but one point I want to drive home to fans is this:

Queer people who work in big media often have a different idea of representation than tumblr and ao3 types do.

Not always, but it's common. There is no reason Gatiss would necessarily want canon Johnlock or see it as a huge step forward for representation. Tumblr Sherlock fandom talked about it in terms that weren't really echoed by people outside of tumblr.

Looking at SPN, by the end, it only had a couple million viewers per episode. Sorting AO3 SPN fics by hits, the top one does have over a million hits, but the next few down have 400-500k. They quickly drop to the 200k hits range, and these are fics with multiple chapters where the same reader will have come back many times. The 2mil episode watchers are separate people watching the first run.

SPN has a particularly vociferous fandom and particularly shitty ratings, so yeah, some of the bigger fic is big enough you'd hope they'd care... But there are two things you're forgetting:

1. SPN had a fuckton of self-shipper fans and fans who just liked canon and did not care about fic. None of these fans wanted Destiel.

2. Network tv series make money off of advertisements, and advertisers still usually strongly prefer young men to older people or women.

It does not matter if SPN's writers wanted to be less sexist as long as advertisers pressure shows to deliver the male viewer numbers they want. But even if they did want to cater to the female audience they ended up with, that audience is not united in wanting Destiel.

(I do not think the writers made any attempt to be less sexist, and I think it’s fine to call them on that, btw. I’m just saying this separate advertiser issue exists also.)

Look through Dean's tags on Wattpad: you'll find a sea of fanfic about Dean/OFC or Dean/Female reader. Those were also die-hard fans, and they did not ship m/m. They also kept SPN afloat with their money.

I too want live action longform genre fiction with a decent budget and canon m/m.

But it's simplistic to think that SPN was just ignoring their fans and clueless.

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downtonabbeyrevisited · 3 years

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Season Two Episode Four

A 1918 timestamp ushers us into one of Downton’s more slow moving episodes where three parts painful banality has been mixed with one part life-or-death peril.

Providing more interesting political and cultural conflict than WW1 (at least at Downton) is Isobel’s ongoing grating at Cora’s very soul. Cora has had the temerity to ensure that the staff don’t collapse on their feet and has done something with the linen that I can’t quite fathom which, of course, Isobel takes as a slight upon her medical knowledge. Isobel makes the fatal error of calling Cora’s bluff threatening to ‘seek some other place’ if she is not appreciated at Downton. Major Clarkson also takes sides with Cora and Isobel now has no choice but to throw herself and her messiah complex upon the Red Cross in Northern France. I am sure they will be thrilled.

With Isobel’s departure, Moseley and Mrs Bird find themselves at a loss having deep cleaned the house and moaned about their employer’s eating habits. Turns out that one thing they forgot to do was deploy any semblance of a security system as a random man with a drama school limp wanders into the house looking for food. In a manner that would make the current Conservative front bench recoil with horror, Mrs Bird starts up a soup kitchen out of her own (presumably rather small) pocket. In her latest attempt to not do her job, Mrs Patmore drags Daisy out for some fresh air and in the process uncovers this particular bit of well meaning but financially unsustainable charity. Mrs Patmore scales up the operation, creating a “special storage area” to squirrel away surplus from the army’s stock, which O’Brien conveniently overhears (but to be honest, it’s not that much of a coincidence. I imagine most of the kitchen heard it considering that Mrs Patmore practically yelled it). In an effort to try and inject a bit of actual drama into this episode, O’Brien reports this to Mrs Hughes but (un)fortunately, Mrs Hughes could not care less. But after watching the world’s most appalling secret handover of goods in the village, O’Brien rallies and this time is successful in bringing Cora to the nefariously compassionate Bird-Patmore coalition. To absolutely everyone’s surprise (viewers included) Cora orders food to be taken from the house stock rather than army and with all the over-confidence of a consultant sets about re-arranging tables and streamlining the workflow.

Feeling much less charitable than Mrs Bird, Moseley heads to the Abbey and attempts to make himself indispensable and reach the dizzying heights of ‘Valet to the Earl of Grantham’. But not long after the peels of laughter that such a notion invites have died down, Bates returns and takes Mr Molesley’s shoehorn which one can’t help but think is emblematic of something. The return of Mr Bates is, naturally, a painfully protracted process that involves key protagonists not talking to each other, Thomas smoking on a wall, and the obligatory invocation of Kamal Pamuk. Robert invites Bates back to help him through the ‘veil of shadow’ and as such I was intrigued to learn that he is a World of Warcraft devotee. Bates reappearance downstairs also allows for the return of two other key Downton Abbey tropes: Anna and (John)Bates having a heart to heart under the cover of darkness, and Thomas and O’Brien’s irrational loathing/scapegoating of Britain’s most infuriatingly lovelorn character (outside of Thomas Thorne) to resume with aplomb.

Less happy to be within the confines of the Abbey is Edith who continues to signal that all of this is really a bit beneath her (certain elements quite literally). Ever the teacher’s pet, Mr Molesley reports the sighting of an Officer by the maid’s staircase to Mrs Hughes who hears that there have been lots of rumours on the timeline tonight and comes out to say that she does not live in a sack. Unfortunately, Major Bryant does not live in one but definitely frequents one and, as such, it is of course Ethel is dismissed. As she rapidly packs all her belongings, Anna pleas to Mrs Hughes on her behalf confirming that she is indeed the friend we all want but probably don’t deserve. But Mrs Hughes can’t get rid of her that easily as Edith (and passenger) skulk back to liven up the end of the episode with news of an oncoming baby *Eastenders drums intensify*.

Talking of undeserving relationships, Sybil and Branson receive more air-time than usual, providing the latter the opportunity to demonstrate that at times he really can be a muppet. And a slightly malevolent one at that. Sybil is firmly under the cosh this week with Violet making thinly veiled references to inappropriate alliances and Mary asking probing questions whilst she tries to get on with her job. Mary thinks that she has spotted her sister and Branson having some kind of romantic exchange but in reality, all that she has seen from afar is Branson telling Sybil that she is in love with him which when you think about it, is all kinds of awful and hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. After a long walk through the grounds where I am half expecting Branson to appear on a horse Willoughby-style, Sybil eventually caves and confesses to Mary that she doesn’t know if she likes Branson despite his eminently creepy voice over. Sybil then relays her sororal confidence and rather than taking this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Branson for whatever reason attempts to coerce Sybil into a relationship but not before he belittles her job. Sybil looks rightfully outraged as some equally emotionally manipulative strings wail in the background in an attempt to try and make us think that anything that has just happened was evenly slightly dreamy.

Threaded through this glacially paced episode has been the looming threat of a both a concert and the death of Matthew and (to a much lesser extent because that is how class works) William. In an effort to break the monotony of walking around the exact same bit of French trench (see previous re-caps for further details), William and Matthew take to wandering across some largely unadulterated land and into the path of some nonchalant Germans. Daisy’s lack of (presumably fawning) letters from William starts off a chain of enquiry which confirms that the War Office has declared Matthew and William missing enabling Mary to once again deploy her signature move: weeping into her gloves. But only one hand this time because she needs to keep a bit of composure for the show must go on! Apparently. Following some abysmal piano playing (I grew up in an appallingly musical household and we all had to endure the torture of other people at the early stages of learning an instrument. It was of course blissful when we got good but, heck, I was thrown straight back to the horror of it all with that ‘accompaniment’ and had an odd sort of stress response which I won’t describe here), Mary and Edith do a rendition of If You Were the Only Girl (In the World) as everyone looks on stony-faced before participating in the millenia’s most morose sing-a-long. With a very good sense of drama, Matthew and (to a much lesser extent) William make their return. Matthew takes his place at Mary’s side and joins in the signing to what is now presumably quite a bewildered audience. Ah, Downton.

Romantic declaration of the moment

Violet raises reasonable concerns about Richard Carlisle but Mary is more interested in expanding her real estate portfolio and agrees to throw her lot in with a fiscal agreement disguised as a marriage. Upon his ‘miraculous’ return, Matthew gives the union his blessing on the condition that Richard remains deserving. Not that he ever really was. But the sentiment is what matters here and what is more loving* than putting another’s presumed happiness before your own.

*there are actually a lot of other more loving things but in the interest of formatting, we’re going to sweep those under a very large rug for now.

Expressive eyebrow of the week

Rather than training as a nurse or being actually pretty useful in a convalescent home, Mary’s contribution to the war effort is being amicable with Edith. Violet declares that she has now “seen everything” as the spirit of Mrs Adelman moves on.

Wait, what?

“I wish we had a man” Presented without comment

“If I am not appreciated here, I will seek some other place” Yes. PLEASE.

“What must he do to persuade you he is in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart” No, Mary. Matthew merely needs to carve her name with a compass on his forehead to prove that…

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“I hate the word ‘missing’. It leaves so much room for optimism.” Robert is a bit emotionally weird isn’t he?

“We haven't kissed or anything. I don't think we've shaken hands. I'm not even sure if I like him like that. He says I do, but I'm still not sure.” And lo, another red flag is raised. But because Branson is Downton’s version of a Bolshevik, both Mary and Sybil view this not as a warning about the boy’s behaviour but rather a symbol of his political leanings and such signals are duly ignored.

“He always seems a romantic figure to me” Daisy Robinson writes fanfic. Pass it on.

“Sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren't quite…appropriate. And can be awkward, you know, later on. I mean, we've all done it.” Once again, Violet, tell us more!

Bates says that he has returned to “Downton at war” which sounds like a lucrative exhibition name if I ever did hear one.

Despite Mary’s most valiant efforts, no musical performance had ever gone out to such an impassive audience until Rosalind came along

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Matthew of course is used to a much better quality sing-, sorry, song-a-long

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#Downton #downton abbey #downton rewatch #Mary Crawley #Matthew Crawley #thomas barrow #thomas branson #mrs o'brien #Mrs Patmore #daisy mason #william mason #Cora Crawley #Lady Grantham #lord grantham #john bates #Joseph Molseley #anna bates #Youtube

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magnhild · 4 years

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Nora Valkyrie, Identity, and Purpose

Hey everyone, Blaire here, and almost exactly a year ago, I made this mess of a post where I laid out all of my thoughts on Nora and what I thought the show could have in store for her.

And honestly, most of my ideas were way off, and not at all correct. Also, the post kind of flopped.

Thankfully, Volume 8 has given me a chance to redeem myself, and write another, more coherent, essay about my favourite RWBY character; where this Volume seems to be taking her character, and what it means to me, personally.

Buckle up.

To the vast majority of people in the RWBY fandom, Nora is the least-developed character, and the one most lacking in dimension. Most of her character seems to be defined by two things; her energy and love for fighting, and her relationship on Ren.

Volume 8 took note of these conceptions, and addressed them head-on.

Of course, any keen-eyed viewer will have noted Nora’s hidden depths even before this volume, which I noticed in last year’s post. She is perhaps the most perceptive of the main cast, at least, when it comes to people’s feelings and relaionships. She was the only one to really comment on Pyrrha’s crush on jaune, and the first to bring up Blake and Yang’s growing relationship. It was also her level-headedness that resolved RNJR’s argument in Volume 4, Chapter 9.

Volume 7 also showed us her innate desire to protect the weak, and her disdain to those who have the power to help, but refuse. I personally get the feeling that this was her driving motivation in becoming a Huntress; to protect people who cannot protect themselves, perhaps because she doesn’t want anyone to have to grow up as she did. Nora’s fury at Ironwood in V7C7 is esepcially signifigant, because it’s the angriest we’ve ever seen her before, even more so in that this anger is directed at someone with much more authority than her.

But these little details were only the tip of the iceberg. These were traits she already had, and while they help to add layers to her character, they’ve done very little in terms of her actual development.

This is where Volume 8 came in stronger than any other.

Volume 7 hinted to us that Ren and Nora’s relationship was beginning to get more complicated, between their bickering, Ren’s dismissiveness at Nora, and their kiss in V7C6. By the end of the volume, it was clear that they were still struggling, despite their clear love for each other. Volume 8 carried this thread along, having them split into different parties, and Nora giving Ren a bit of attitude we’ve not really seen her direct at him before.

She’s frustrated with him, and disappointed that he can’t see what she sees. But despite her tough front, V8C2 then hints that she’s sadder about the split than she’s letting on, after May brings up Nora’s ‘friends’. C3 then brings this to a head, where we get a conversation that sees Nora opening up to Blake and Yang, and revealing a deeply sad truth about herself- that she has no idea who she is without Ren, because she’s spent so much of her life with him and him alone, and her feelings for him have shaped so much of who she thinks she is. We’ve never seen her so hopeless and lost, especially after she reveals that, as far as she’s concerned, all she’s good for is hitting stuff.

Right in these few minutes, the show takes how the audience percieves Nora, and reveals to us that those two core traits are the gateways to a far deeper insight of her character. She’s known for her relationship with Ren, but wait- what about when he’s not there with her? She’s known for hitting stuff, but wait- that’s all she thinks she’s good for.

It’s revealed to us that, not only is this how most of the audience percievs Nora, but it’s how she percieves herself. And for all her energy and upbeat attitude, deep down, she thinks incredibely lowly of herself. For all her confidence in her fighting abilities, she lacks confidence in herself as a person.

Surprisingly enough, the ‘who am I?’ character arc is one that was hardly explored at all up until this point, despite it being one of the most common and signifgant character arcs in fictional media. And I don’t think many of us at all could have imagined that Nora would be the one to get that arc, when she’s always seemed so self-assured on the surface.

And then, when Penny is in need of help, Nora takes Weiss’ advice to heart, and does the one thing she believes she’s capable of- being strong, and hitting stuff.

Nora overcharging her Semblance to take down the wall is seen by a lot of the fandom as some kind of win for Nora; as her ‘big moment’. But while it’s certainly a really cool and badass scene, it was far from a triumph for her.

This was Nora at perhaps her lowest point so far in the series. This was Nora figuring ‘well, if this is all I’m good for, I’ll do it to the extreme’. This was Nora thinking her only purpose was to greatly endanger herself for the sake of others, because she figured she was the only one who could. And she almsot got herself killed for it.

While certainly a defining moment, it was far from triumphant. It wasn’t a win. It was a self-destrcutive act that reflected how little she thinks of herself; that she’s not worth anything unless she’s pushing herself to the limit doing the one thing she thinks she’s good at.

And to drive the knife in harder, it backfires horribly.

Because now she’s bedridden and critically injured, with scars that are probably permanent; a reminder of her lowest point, forever marked on her body. She can’t fight now, can’t help at all, and Salem has launched her attack on Atlas.

And in her half-unconsious state in V8C7, she realizes this, delivering an absolutely heartbreaking line:

As far as she’s concerned, her last attempt at doing what she thinks only she can do- what she thinks is all she can do- has prevented her from doing anything of worth at all. She lost one half of herself when she split from Ren, and now she’s lost the other half too. The two things that she defines herself by are gone. And the worst part is, we don’t know if she’s awar of the fact Salem has begun her attack. We could very well see her fully wake up, only to realize that the world has begun ending while she was unconsious, and she can’t do anything about it.

Now, this scene, and Nora’s struggle in this Volume as a whole, hit home for me in particular.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’re probably aware that Nora is only of my hightest- and only- kins. And I’ve only been able to relate to her more and more after what we’ve got of her in this Volume.

I am chronically disabled. I have a connective tissue disorder known as Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which fucks up my body in a multitude of different ways, but signifigantly affects the joints. For me, it hits worst in my back, ankles, and my fingers. The fingers are my main problem. To make matters worse, I’ve also been victim to intense pains in my shoulder, which came out of nowhere a couple of months ago and have only gotten worse since. The slightest movement aggrevates it. As any follower of mine would know, I am both an artist and a writer. I create both for fun, and I’ve studied writing as a profession. It is these things I’m known for being good at, and not much else.

Thanks to my disability and my shoulder though, I have to do these things less. Even on perscription pain medication, it still hurts. It hurts to write this even now; my shoulder feels like it’s burning up from the inside. It will only get worse over time.

So, I’m finding myself in Nora’s position. I can’t do what I’m good at anymore, and I don’t know what to do with myself as a result. Not doing these things makes me feel lazy and unproductive, and makes me feel that the people around me will abandon me so long as i can’t keep providing them content. And I’ve gotta say, it hurts a lot, and I don’t just mean physically.

Because of what I’m going through, it’s especially important to see my favourite RWBY character just so happening to be dealing with the same problem; the same loss of idenity and purpose. We don’t know who we are or what we’re good for without the things we think define us.

While I’m unsure of my own future though, I find comfort in knowing that Nora’s problem will be tackled and addressed; that her friends will help her to rediscover herself and find her true worth. And while we’ve got a while to go until we’ll be able to see the Volume continue, I’m incredibely excited to see where Nora’s arc goes, especially if we can get some backstory along the way. I find myself wondering if her life before Ren is part of why she thinks so little of herself without him- was it the way she was raised to think? Is this the fault of her childood circumstances? Or is this just something she developed on her own, after becoming too dependant on Ren for comfort?

Whatever answers we get, I have faith that Nora’s story will be told well, and I’m very sure that it’s only just beginning. Even if she finds her worth before the end of the volume, her story won’t be over yet, not when we’ve still likely got at least four more volumes to go after this one.

In just seven episodes, Nora Valkyrie has gone from one of the least developed characters, to one of the most interesting and relatable, at least, in my eyes. There is so much more depth to her character than having a crush on Ren, and being the strong girl who hits stuff. There’s a layer of tragedy to her character that we’re touching upon now, and I’m excited to dive into it.

Thank you all for reading!

#rwby #my writing #rwby analysis #rwby spoilers #nora valkyrie

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antialiasis · 3 years

Text

Morphic: the Musical

The Thousand Roads forums have a fanfic music thread. While I don't really do those kinds of threads usually because I don't really listen to a very wide variety of music and generally have a hard time associating music that already exists with unrelated fiction, one of the questions in it is this:

Talk about what would happen if some Broadway hit-maker scooped up your fic and turned it into a script. What songs would be in it? Describe a dance number/dance battle?

And immediately, the musical analysis glint lit up in my eyes. This question was presumably intended in a lighthearted jokey sort of way - imagining some fight staged as a dance battle, a hypothetical Broadway hit-maker doing the adaptation. But that's not enough for me, say I! Musicals are a good and interesting medium for serious fiction that I care about and I am going to serious this up.

See, to me, the musical format has two major strengths as a narrative medium. The first is that it can explore the inner worlds of characters in a pretty unique way. Characters get to monologue in a sort of heightened, non-literal manner, intensified by music: we can learn what they're about, what makes them tick, what's going on in their heads in a particular moment, in a way that wouldn't really make sense presented as actual inner monologue in another medium. The music aspect itself then adds a layer to it that's impossible to replicate in any other.

The second strength of the musical format is that it's really good at highlighting recurring themes, parallels and contrasts. Reprise the same melody, the same lyric, a parallel but opposite lyric, and you've instantly connected two things together. Is there a character arc? You can highlight what has changed. Are there two characters going through something similar? You can draw that out. Is there a recurring theme throughout? Use a recurring lyric, a recurring melodic phrase! Nudge the viewer into forming connections! Delicious! And you can do subtler things on the music level itself - particular instruments with particular connotations, recurring motifs...

So naturally I decided I should think up what a musical adaptation of Morphic would be like. It'd be a fun exercise in putting all my thoughts on musical adaptations into practice, but also an interesting way to help sort out some of my thoughts about characters arcs, etc. for the actual Morphic rewrite. And in the process, I may have gone slightly overboard. I regret nothing.

(I'm about to spoil most of the fic here, if this wasn't obvious)

Morphic: the Musical - tracklist

(Note: this musical is not sung-through; there are regular non-musical sections with regular dialogue in between. Morphic would almost definitely not make for a good sung-through musical.)

Act I

[Intro song] (Brian)

A monologue by Brian at the TV studio as he tries to work through what to say, how to explain or justify any of this (which conveniently serves to exposit to the audience as well as introduce his character). He makes nervous false starts and cuts himself off, starting the verse over each time, and through these false starts we learn what's going on, that the press has been calling them Pokémorphs, that this was all Dave's idea, that alcohol was involved, that it was meant as a basis for further research, that there were never supposed to be *children*, that he doesn't know what he'd even do with a kid, that Dave roped him into going on this show because he couldn't.

[Dave song] (Dave)

This musical properly introduces us to Dave via Jane walking out on him followed by this song, wherein he contemplates chucking baby Jean out the window. It's a dark rock song with big emotional contrasts and raw lyrics that is almost definitely my favorite song in this musical in the hypothetical reality where it is an actual musical and I didn't write it, because I am me. Probably starts with a couple slower lines of desperate disbelief before launching into wild anger about fuck that fucking whore, followed by what I will be referring to as the everything-is-shit verse (please bear with me), just a general cynicism rant about why the world is a shitty place not worth living in, followed by him wildly fantasizing about killing his infant child. What a delightful human being that I adore. The song ends abruptly, he's standing there staring at her in his arms for a moment, then he silently goes to feed her. On the soundtrack you probably might think he just did it.

Fatherhood (Brian)

A montage song covering the timeskip, which probably reprises [Intro song]. Brian initially has no idea what to do with his new squirming horrorblob child and is convinced he will screw it up the way he tends to screw up everything. Makes a couple of false starts again, but then gains confidence as time passes as he genuinely bonds with Gabriel and legitimately thinks he's a pretty amazing kid. There's a repeated line along the lines of that Gabriel's a weird, weird kid, but he's his, initially in a tone of "oh god I'm responsible for him what do" but towards the end is said with pride and fondness.

[Villain song] (Isaac and Jacob)

A duet between the two brothers, exploring what makes them tick. Isaac is all about this heavy pressure and sense of responsibility, originally imposed by his father, that he continues to impose on himself. He's been appointed to take over leading the family/cult and was raised with that constantly in the back of his mind as his future, and he believes that they're God's true righteous people and he cannot go wrong. He has dreams with some regularity that he interprets as visions from God, as he has been encouraged to since childhood by his father. When he has one about murder, it frightens him but he sees it as basically a divinely-appointed mission.

Jacob privately doesn't really believe any of that. He is trapped in this cult and goes through the motions but is not actually driven by any of the things that are driving Isaac. He's fairly quiet for most of the song - as Isaac is going on about his vision, Jacob has a line here and there obliquely challenging it, but Isaac has an answer for everything, and he doesn't press it, instead moving seamlessly on to suggestions for how he should do it. Jacob gets a quiet variant of part of the everything-is-shit verse from [Dave song], expressing the same kind of cynicism in a more reproachful, apathetic way - all in his own head, of course.

Just Like My Hero (Jean and Will)

Jean sings about how she is just like her hero, Sarah Hooter! Starts off describing how they look the same, moves on from there to how she will torch anyone who's mean, etc., just like her hero. Halfway through, Will joins in, and it becomes a counterpoint duet: Jean may be immature and ridiculous, but he deeply wishes he was confident and adored and nothing would get to him, and he admires and envies that about her. His just like my hero has a bit more of an ironic vibe, he'd hardly properly call her his hero, but he looks up to her more than he'd normally admit nonetheless.

Storming the Castle (Jack and Gabriel)

Jack and Gabriel are playing a D&D game with their friends, arguing about the best course of action. Jack is eager to waltz into the bad guys' fortress, storm the castle, while Gabriel urges lying low, says they're too weak. Jack wants to take the leap and try it; Gabriel insists no, we're not taking the leap, it's stupid. "It's brave!" Jack counters. (In the end, Gabriel gives in and they go ahead with it, and it goes fine.)

Unique (Mia and Lucy)

Mia and Lucy play one of their games. The song is about how Lucy needs someone like Mia to challenge her and let her actually indulge her powers, which are otherwise unsettling to people and she's ashamed and self-conscious about them, while Mia needs someone like Lucy to get a real outlet for her hunter's instinct. The word the lyrics are built around is unique; by being the precise way they are, they are each the only person who can provide this for the other.

Mia doesn't sing. She speaks her lyrics in her usual monotone, not even rhythmically. They also don't rhyme. It's technically a duet but really it's just Lucy singing and Mia talking.

[Peter/Katherine song] (Peter and Katherine)

A counterpoint duet between the siblings, contrasting their experience as Pokémorphs. Peter can pretty easily hide that he's different and be treated mostly as a normal kid, and feels free in his privilege, not confined quite the way the others are, able to be a bit reckless and incautious. Katherine, meanwhile, has a very different experience, being extremely noticeably different, getting stared at, and struggling with basic activities, and feels a huge sense of responsibility weighing her down, worrying about Peter and grounding him and reining him in. There's a lyrical contrast involving something something bird freedom plant rooted down something.

Brian's Death (Isaac and Dave)

This is one of those mostly-instrumental pieces that they include on the soundtrack anyway, but Isaac gets a couple of sung nondiegetic lines in here, a sort of frantic excitement, realizing in a brief panic that he shot the wrong guy before rationalizing that God must have planned it this way.

Dave is probably also in there screaming and attempting to call the police, because I am always in favor of screaming and panicking on musical soundtracks.

The Funeral (Gabriel and Jack)

Begins with Gabriel at the church during the funeral, singing about his vague discomfort being there, but slowly becomes increasingly frantic and anxious, working up to a breakdown where he exits and finally manages to cry for his dad. There's a verse about little things, how they ordered pizza the night before he died, etc., culminating in the bit about him having been in the middle of this mystery novel and never getting to learn who did it; the verse trails off quietly there, backing instruments gone, as Gabriel breaks down. Jack follows to comfort him.

Act II

[Montage song] (everyone)

A montage of the days after the attack, where everyone gets a couple lines about how they're coping, scared and grieving.

Dave's lines are like, spoken slightly too desperate annoyance at having to do some work that Brian didn't get to finish, or rebuking somebody who asks how he's doing by saying he barely even knew Brian. He is not singing along with this kind of grief-porn bullshit, fuck you.

[Villain song II] (Isaac and Jacob)

The brothers come up with a new plan. Isaac is agitated, reprising some of his bits from the original villain song in a quicker, more frantic tempo, while Jacob picks up the slack, walking him through a new idea. Isaac takes to it with conviction and goes back to the original melody/tempo, talking again about his God-given purpose. Jacob does not join in with any of that, only with the bits about the actual plan.

The Kidnapping (instrumental)

I'm just going to say this is on the soundtrack too and contains panicked Gabriel noises because I want it to be.

Storming the Castle Reprise (Jack)

Jack tries to rally the others for a rescue mission, echoing the D&D game from Act I. The lines about storming the castle and taking the leap make a reappearance.

Just Like My Hero Reprise (Jean)

Jean, on the bus, miserably contemplates how she is unlike her hero. Again, it begins with a verse talking about how she looks - not a thing like Sarah Hooter anymore - but then moves on to how she's scared and pathetic and running away, unlike anything a hero would do.

Church Sequence (Will, Jack, Mia)

A single track, largely instrumental/dialogue/sound effects, with a couple of brief song snippets:

- Will reprises "Just Like My Hero" as he wills himself to go on. He is cut off mid-line as he is shot.

- Mia slits that guy's throat and she actually sings a few words, for the first and only time, before she is also cut off mid-line by a gunshot. The line is something about, like, warm blood in her face or the guy's satisfying death throes, reprising part of the melody of "Unique".

Strong (Gabriel)

Gabriel discovers his powers. Starts slowly, calling back to the bits from "Storming the Castle" about lying low, being weak. But as the song continues and he makes his discovery, the tempo builds, and he starts reprising Jack's bits instead: he is strong, taking the leap, storming the castle.

Perish Song (Lucy)

Another brief reprise of "Unique", distorted and deafening and terrifying, mourning her sister.

[In the Hospital] (Jack and Gabriel)

The two of them work out their feelings about what happened. Includes Jack going "It was stupid" (i.e. the rescue mission) and Gabriel responding "It was brave", echoing the bit where they said the opposite in "Storming the Castle". Jack blames himself for how it all turned out, feels stupid and weak, while Gabriel actually felt kind of awesome. (This is also calling back to their opposite bits of "Storming the Castle".) They end with a shared duet verse as they realize they've both got that same innate desire to fight and win. Possibly calls back to the weird, weird kid line from "Fatherhood".

Eulogy (Dave)

Dave's eulogy for Mia (which also touches on Will, but this is Mia's funeral). It reprises "Unique". There will never again be anyone like the two of them, two of the only truly unique people on this Earth. (And, while he doesn't say it straight out because hahahaha, he needed Mia, too).

Taking the Leap (Jack and Gabriel)

Jack's suicide attempt and his swirling inner turmoil as he tries to talk himself into taking the leap once again. Gabriel, of course, comes in with don't take that leap. Am I overusing this one line by putting it in like half the songs in this thing? Well, who's going to stop me.

[Peter/Katherine song reprise] (Peter and Katherine)

The two of them contemplate indefinite house arrest (in contrast to the freedom Peter's enjoyed most of his life) and Katherine's failure to stop all this (despite her sense of responsibility). In the end, they both find their own ways to accept the new state of things and support each other through this.

Finale (Dave and Jean)

After Dave breaks down on his couch and Jean comes in to ask what's wrong, Dave sings a reprise of the everything-is-shit verse, going over the many things he's angry about, because that is the only emotion involved here clearly. At the exact point where Dave's song originally went from there to fantasizing about throwing her off the balcony, Jean throws her arms around him and sniffles "It'll be okay, Dad," and after a stunned "What? Jean, I'm--", he continues with a slow, hesitant *inverted* reprise of the everything-is-shit verse, "Everything'll be fine", constructing a little fantasy reality for her (and himself) where everything turns out all right in the end. It's backed by, like, a simple, quiet, slower piano rendition of the original melody, and trails off at the end, never quite coming to a satisfying conclusion before he tells Jean she should go back to bed.

#morphic #musicals #I spent far too much time thinking about this #except it was also exactly the right amount of time

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jenomark · 4 years

Text

Part 3

➔Pairing: Camboy!Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut ➔Warnings: Oral (M), Penetration (F), little bit of angst ➔Word count: 4,080

➔Summary: You’ve been out of the dating game for awhile, but your best friend thinks a push in the right direction is all you need. She sets you up for the cam boy experience, complete with the cute boy and a discovery.

>>Part 1<<

>>Part 2<<

One time. Two times. Three times. Whore. Five times. Six times. Seven times more.

You couldn’t stop coming and going, using Jeno’s apartment like a revolving door. Every night for weeks, you would show up at his place, turn the camera on, and fuck him for the regulars. You were wrong in thinking having sex again would be like riding a bike. Having sex with Jeno was like fucking on a speeding bullet train, no slowing down, and only getting off when it was time. And time was everything.

Being on camera never felt comfortable until Jeno showed up and shot you with a different lens. He made you feel pretty and wanted, tangible and whole. You became addicted to the way he looked at your body, and the way he touched you. Even after the cameras stopped rolling, Jeno would trace his fingertips up your spine and ask for another round, his dark eyes tempting and dangerous.

Going to work with hickeys on your neck was risky. Wearing silk scarves in the sweltering heat made you look too obvious, and make-up never did the trick. If you did manage to hide them, your just-fucked glow gave it all away. You wore Jeno everywhere you went, like a ring, your two bodies married together. If it wasn’t so sinful, you’d be picture perfect.

Your thoughts were all about him. Hands waved in your face, wondering what planet your mind was on. In the midst of stacks of paperwork and deadlines, you thought about Jeno’s stubble itching your thighs. You thought about how you had let him in every hole you had, and sometimes, you let him into the other parts of yourself you liked to keep hidden.

You smiled. You remembered when you sat with him on his bed, you on your knees, and the requested pigtails hanging from the side of your head. Jeno couldn’t stop laughing, the bed shaking from his delight. You were shown many sides of him, but the weird happiness he clung to always mesmerized you.

“What?” you asked. “Do I look stupid?”

You looked over at the camera. The viewers came and went all of the time, more than you had ever fathomed. Doubled, sometimes tripled, the money was rolling in. Everyone loved the two of you together. If you explored new territories, such as role play or BDSM, the numbers shot up faster than Jeno’s cum. It had gotten so suffocating reading all of the chats that Jeno forbid you from reading any of them. He was used to the attention, but you found it anxiety-inducing.

Jeno took your face so that you would focus only on him. “No, never.”

“Ugly?” you asked.

“You?” he asked. “Ugly? Not a thing about you is ugly.”

“Then why do you always laugh at me?” you asked.

When you tilted your head to the side, your pigtail hitting your shoulder, Jeno’s smile slowly faded from his face. He searched your eyes before tugging on the end of your hair. His gesture was meant to be the end of the conversation. You had certain safe words and motions in place to communicate with each other. If Jeno tugged on your hair, it meant a change in conversation. Sometimes, it served as a question asked silently, “Do you want to keep going?” or “Are you okay?” He was always asking what you needed, but hardly what you wanted.

“I want to play,” you said. “How about you feed me things, and I will guess what they are.”

Playing a role was easier than admitting your real attraction to Jeno. When you weren’t busy fucking all over his apartment, you hung out as friends. Late night pizza meant staying up, drinking beer, and watching bad movies. He came over unannounced when he hadn’t heard from you in a day, and you caught yourself thinking about the absence of his cock inside of you more than was considered casual.

“I love to play.” Jeno said.

He disappeared into his kitchen. Impromptu sexcapades, as you liked to call them, were fun. Usually, Jeno led the night, but you were feeling in rare form. You remained sitting on your knees, your pretty dress fanned out around you. You felt girly and cute, and when you pouted, it was the easiest way to hide the way you were truly feeling. Jeno came back with whipped cream and other desserts, his strong arms carrying the pile. You closed your eyes and flopped your belly across his bed, the end of the dress coming above your ass cheeks. Jeno dumped the stuff on the bed, reached over and smacked your ass.

“Hey!” you said. “If it can’t go in my mouth, I don’t want it.”

You enjoyed having real, intimate sex with Jeno the most. Every once in a while, you both would find yourself back to it, both of you in normal clothes acting like yourselves. You loved being the girl in the upstairs apartment, loved getting to chill out and take him for a ride. You loved it too much. You wanted to slow it all down, but you liked the sex too much. You could forgive the attachment if you pretended it wasn’t there.

“Is that so?” Jeno asked.

He went over to his computer and typed something into the chat box. He was always communicating with his fans. A lot of them felt so far removed from you after some time that it almost didn’t feel like they existed beyond the camera and the lights. You winced at the sudden jealousy you felt, picked up the whipped cream can and brought the nozzle straight into your mouth. The sound of the cream pouring from the can made Jeno turn back to you. You sucked on the tip seductively and pushed the cream out of your mouth. You eyed him up, as if to say, “What are you going to do about it?” and watched defiantly as Jeno walked towards you, ripped the can from your hand, and brought your chin into his hands.

The stare. He gave it to you a lot. It was a moment just for the two of you to balance each other out. You trusted him, and he trusted you. After deciding that you wanted to continue your on-camera relationship and work together, you told him to do what he wanted, and that you were his.

Jeno let go of your chin, and you laid on your back with your mouth wide open. You closed your eyes and waited for him to let you have a taste.

“Guess what this is,” he said. He took a second to situate himself before he spoke again, “No cheating. Let me see your tongue. That’s my girl. What is it? Can you guess?”

Jeno’s thumb was flat against your tongue. You could taste the chocolate sauce instantly, the grittiness coating your teeth. You played dumb, moaning against his thumb and sucking down on it. When you had sucked his thumb clean, he wiped your spit against your chest.

“Can I have more?” you asked. “ I really like it.”

You could feel him playing it up for the camera. Jeno opened your mouth a little wider and poured sauce straight down your throat. He followed it with a kiss and his own tongue going in to savor the chocolate.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling away.

“Chocolate,” you said. “Your favorite.”

You were touching yourself. It was hard not to. With your eyes closed, you imagined how he looked hovering over you. His appeal was completely understandable in your eyes. Jeno was sexy beyond belief, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Next one,” Jeno said, his voice a low rumble. “ This one is sticky.”

You smiled, hoping it was his cum, but knowing it was sweet honey. The coolness of the honey missed your mouth and went straight onto your lips, dribbling down your chin. Jeno helped clean you up using his mouth, making out with you while you laid upside down. He grabbed a hold of your pigtails and tugged, a signal so second nature to you.

“Honey.” you said.

“Yes, baby?” Jeno joked.

You resisted the urge to laugh. You knew the chat was going wild- all those girls from before falling in love with him over and over again. You breathed deeply and folded your hands against your stomach. You waited with your lips parted slightly and your eyes closed. When you felt the tip of his soft cock touch your lips, you brought him into your mouth, inching yourself upwards to get more of him.

“Do you like the taste of this?” Jeno asked. “Can you guess what it is? I think it might be your favorite.”

What the two of you did sometimes was comical. You could hear the real Jeno trying to contain himself. The moment you grabbed his cock and started giving him the best blowjob of his life, he shut up entirely. The suction of your lips on his length as he hardened was all the answer he needed.

Times like that happened often. The more you got into the cam life, the more it got into every crevice of your actual life. On the ride to work, you thought of new scenarios to do with Jeno that would please the crowd. Since you both thought you had something special together, you wanted to make the most of it. After all, he was splitting half of his money with you, and the extra cash began to help your personal life. It was also fun and made you feel free, which was something you never counted on happening. The stick up your ass was momentarily loosened, and you were thankful.

”I have something to tell you.” you said.

Your best friend walked around your apartment, looking around and squinting her eyes. She hadn’t stepped foot in your life in weeks, except for the rare lunch outing. It’s not that you were avoiding her entirely, just choosing to forget to reply to her text messages. You had been too scared to spill the beans about anything to do with Jeno and your illicit porn career. You followed her around and hoped she wouldn’t be able to guess what you’d been doing since she last saw you in your apartment.

“It smells different in here,” she said, sniffing the air. “What is that smell?”

“Aromatherapy candle?” you offered.

You were too nervous, too fidgety. She stopped looking around and looked you square in the eyes. As she examined your body for any signs of something out of place, you prayed she wouldn’t notice the new clothes you had gotten yourself, or that little bit of weight you had lost from all that hot sex you’d been having.

“So,” she said. “What do you have to tell me?”

Your lips stuck together because your mouth was so dry. You cleared your throat and looked around at your plants. You had bought more since you started to web-cam with Jeno, not because you were lonely, but because he had bought them for you. You were aware of how abnormal your relationship with him was, and you weren’t sure your best friend had the right mindset to accept the truth. Yet, you couldn’t keep the secrets any longer. Your biggest fear in life since you started fucking on camera was someone you know in real life accidentally finding you getting your ass drilled by some random man on the internet.

“You’re doing it again,” she said, waving her hand. “You’re disappearing. What is going on with you, lately? You’re so secretive. Have you met someone? Is that it?”

“Kind of?” you said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Kind of? Did you meet someone or not? I don’t think there is ever a time when you can only kind of meet someone. Seriously, just tell me. You have nothing to be ashamed about.”

Immediately, your mind filled with thoughts of Jeno. When you were drunk one night, you showed up to his place, your forehead knocking on his door for you. When he opened it, Jeno was completely sober and sleepy.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s late.”

“I want to fuck.” you said.

You pushed the door open and nearly toppled into his arms. Jeno took your arm to straighten you out. When you made eye contact with him, he made it clear that he would not fuck you while you weren’t able to give consent. You had whined and pouted, and passed out on his couch while he played with your hair. When you woke up, he was still sleeping, and you left without ever bringing it up again. Shame slept with you often.

“Just tell me,” your best friend pleaded. “Is it that bad?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

She straightened up, her face becoming somber. “Are you back with your ex? I don’t know if I can watch you do this all over again-”

“No-” you said. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m seeing someone, someone new. Someone considerably less shitty.”

She smiled, hopeful. “ Really? Is he cute? What’s his name? Where is he from? What does he do for a living? Did you sleep with him?”

“Yes,” you said. “Jeno. I don’t know. He works in the entertainment industry, and yes.”

“Jeno?” she said, zeroing on his name. “Jeno. Jeno. Why do I know that name?”

You shrugged, but a light bulb suddenly went off in her head and her eyes widened. You held out your hands to tell her to calm down before she exploded, as you knew she would.

“The cam boy?” she asked. “Jeno, the cam boy? How did that happen? When did that happen? More importantly, why did it happen? How long has this been happening?”

“That is many questions at once,” you said. “I’m stressed out.”

“You!?” she asked. “My best friend has been seeing and sleeping with a cam boy and didn’t tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said. “I don't want you to apologize. I want the details! How is he? Is he nice? Wait, he lives in the city? Never mind that. Is the dick bomb?”

You sat down and put your head in your hands. She sat down next to you, her face like a kid in a candy store. She took your arms and shook them. She was too excited for someone normally judgmental.

“Don’t be embarrassed, “ she said. “This is nice. This is fun. You’re seeing someone. Are you happy? Are you in love?”

“Stop,” you said. “It’s too much.”

“I know it feels like that, at first,” she said. “Getting back into the dating game is never easy. As soon as you find your footing, it will get easier. You’ll see. Wow. This is so exciting. ”

“Wait-”

“- Have you told your parents? I think you should leave out the sex worker part. I mean, this is 2020 and we don’t shame, but your parents are kind of conservative and I don’t think they would want a son-in-law who gets his cock out on camera-”

“I-”

“-Is he big?” she asked. “No, I shouldn’t ask that. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to ask. I want to be a supportive best friend. I’ve been married for so long I have no idea what the dating scene is like. What do guys even do these days?”

You felt like you were going to throw up. A knock at the front door saved you from hurling all over your best friend's happy face. You got up to answer it, but before you could, Jeno opened the front door himself and strolled right in.

“Hello?” he asked. “ I was wondering if you have any butter. I ran out.”

You threw yourself at the front door, as if your body could cover Jeno before your best friend could see him. It obviously didn’t work. Jeno was left startled, a spatula in his hand, and your best friend stood up to see what the commotion was about.

“Are you trying to hide him from me?” she asked.

You turned to see your best friend, to see the flash of hurt on her face. “No,” you said. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Butter,” Jeno said. “I just need butter. I could come back later?”

You took hold of Jeno’s spatula hand and dragged him into your apartment. Upon seeing your best friend, he smiled warmly, wiped his hands on his pants and stuck his hand out. Your best friend smiled slowly, unsure of his intentions, but she shook his hand nonetheless.

“Hi,” she said. “This is a surprise.”

“You’re telling me,” Jeno said. “I’m Jeno. I don’t know you, but it’s very nice to meet you. I don’t always see people in her apartment.”

“Likewise.” she said, assessing him.

You stood holding Jeno’s spatula with him, your eyes going from each of them waiting for you to speak.

“Right,” you said. “Jeno, this is my best friend. “

“Oh!” he said. “The one that bought my package.”

At the word ‘package’ , you could feel yourself mentally falling to the floor into a puddle, your dignity melting along with your hope.

“Your package,” your best friend said, smirking. “I haven’t heard much about it from her, but I hear it’s very popular.”

Jeno didn’t miss the harsh tones in her voice. He looked at you, leaned in a little closer and subtly tugged on the ends of your hair. You were meant to start talking, to take his trust and keep it safe, but you couldn’t speak.

“So,” your best friend started. “You’re dating my best friend. Do you just drop in unannounced all of the time...looking for..butter?”

Hearing the words coming from her mouth made Jeno suck in a tight breath of air. Luckily for you both, he was quick on his feet. He moved in even closer to you and kissed your cheek. Relaxing into the role, Jeno acted like the perfect boyfriend.

“Well,” Jeno said. “ I live in this building, but I guess she didn’t tell you that yet. My girlfriend is full of secrets..and other things.”

You laughed obnoxiously to cover the sound of your heart hammering in your chest. “Funny. Do you want that butter, Jeno?”

“Me? Jeno asked. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind sticking around for a little while.”

Jeno moved past you and started making himself at home. He moved around your apartment like he lived there, tinkering with your things and touching the leaves of your plants to make sure they were well-fed. Your best friend followed him, her eyes checking his body out. At one point, she turned to you and gave a thumbs up when she saw the tightness of his t-shirt highlighting his muscles. Jeno opened your fridge and looked for the butter.

“It must be weird dating someone in your building,” she said. “Funny how that happens.”

“You have no idea,” Jeno said, throwing the butter into the air and catching it. “I don’t think my neighbors or her neighbors get much sleep.”

“Jeno.” you said through gritted teeth.

Your best friend loved him. You could tell by the way she smiled whenever he joked, by the way her eyes were following him like a cat with its eyes on a mouse. She loved games. She looked at you and smiled until it made you feel bad. You wanted to tell her the whole truth, but for the first time in forever, she didn’t look worried for you. It felt nice.

“We have much to talk about, Jeno.” she said.

Jeno smiled. “I love to talk. I have to go now, but it was very nice meeting you. And I suppose I should thank you, best friend. If it weren’t for you, I would have never met her. She’s the best thing to happen to me in awhile.”

You were flattered by his words. For a second, you believed them. It wasn’t role play, wasn’t another way to squeeze money out of more people. Jeno kissed you on the mouth before turning around and walking out of the apartment.

“He’s nice,” she said. “He’s cute. Are you both serious about each other? He seems like a fuck boy. “

“He is nice,” you said. “And we’re seeing where it goes. I’m not sure serious is the right word. “

“I think you deserve to be serious,” she said. “Anyway, I watched him while he was in your fridge. He stole one of your candy bars and shoved it into his pocket.”

Lights, camera, action. You clapped your hands together like you were in a movie and felt Jeno’s head resting against your stomach. You were reminiscing about another time you were together. The cameras were off and the lights were dimmed. You had both gotten done marathon fucking. Jeno had stubbed his toe on the edge of the bed and was whining about it, and it was the very first moment you realized you didn’t want to stop whatever you were doing.

“I’m tired,” Jeno whispered. “How many times was that? Do you think they liked it?”

He kissed your stomach before rubbing his cheek against your warm skin. You placed your hand on the side of his head and started combing through his sweaty hair with your fingers.

“I do,” you said. “The messages won’t stop coming in.”

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said. “You’re good in bed.”

“I know that,” he said, his rare cockiness showing it’s head. “But do you like me?”

You took a long time to answer, too long for him. You relished the silence after the storm, the way the curtains whistled in the window, their gauzy fabric moving like ghosts. You could hear Jeno purring with sleep, his body still, except for his chest hovering up and down.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I like you a lot.”

You could keep feelings out of it. You had managed to feel nothing for a long time, so it was easy to keep going the way you were going. Jeno made it harder for you, but somehow you knew the battle was not just yours. You knew the way he looked at you sometimes would complicate the working relationship you had built. In some ways, you were the strong one. In other ways, you were already on your knees begging.

“You’re here,” he said, adding the word “girlfriend” at the end of the sentence to get a rise out of you.

Jeno was eating the candy bar he had taken from your fridge. You used your palm to push half of it into his mouth.

“How does it taste?” you asked. “Do you like it?”

He laughed. “Only when you feed me. Come in, I was going to put on one of those bad movies you like so much.”

As soon as you crossed the threshold into his apartment, your energy started dwindling. You didn’t have much patience for jokes, for the setup. As soon as Jeno swallowed the candy, he caught your body the same time you turned to kiss him. His tongue was already in your mouth, his hands moving up your shirt to remove your bra.

“Here,” you said. “Fuck me here. I can’t wait.”

He grabbed your ass and kneaded it in his hands, before bringing your shorts down your thighs. Your hands were already on the drawstrings of his sweatpants when he picked you up and rested your body against the door. You had sex a few times without the camera since the start, and each time was frantic and loose like a canon. The way he held you buy the armpits as his mouth ravished you was enough to keep you going. You held on tightly to him and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“She doesn’t know,” he said. “Does she? About what you get up to after dark?”

“No talking,” you whispered. “Just take me.”

Jeno held you with one arm as he pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. With his first thrust, he hoisted you up higher against the door and bit down on your shoulder. Every thrust after, he clung to you and let your body lightly bounce on his cock. You held onto his back and dug your fingernails into his skin. You moaned as loud as you wanted, letting the ugliest expressions cross your face.

#jeno #lee jeno #nct #nct dream #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #jeno fanfiction #lee jeno fanfiction #nct fanfiction #nct dream fanfiction #please forgive typos and any continuity errors it's been a long time since I've written for this #also i love plots

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shimmershae · 3 years

Text

My thoughts on Episode 3--Hunted.

Most of you lovelies already realize this, but my thoughts tend to zig and zag quite a bit, lol. So. To save some of you the headache and spare you from seeing spoilers you’d rather not see yet, I’m again placing them behind a cut.

First things first. I have totally turned into Yvette Nicole Brown with her TWD notebooks, lol, and I’m not even sorry. I just felt like it would be fun to go back when the final episode is in the books and see how well my thoughts from these early episodes line up with what I’m feeling when we say our (not-so) final goodbyes.

But that’s enough about that. Let’s get to this thing.

It really is insane how very much I love Melissa McBride. Just hearing her doing the previously on TWD recap voiceover makes me ridiculously happy.

Cole! Dude! We hardly knew ya.

Not gonna lie. That first shot of Maggie in all the chaos reminded of a shirt I’ve seen. It says--”Well, well, well. If it isn’t the consequences of my actions.”

I have to hand it to Angela and the rest of her team. These opening scenes--on all 3 episodes--have been BOMB so far. They really hook you in right away. At least IMHO.

I realize I’m behind the game on this little tidbit, but how much do I adore the fact that Dog is now in the opening credits?

Okay. Alexandria might look like it’s been on some kind of post-apocalyptic bender but all our girls are looking beautiful as ever. Maybe it’s Maybelline, lol.

I love to see Kelly and Carol still gravitating toward each other. It really speaks to each woman’s heart. Carol wants to make amends so badly and Kelly just has the most lovely, warm, forgiving heart.

Carol’s point about Alexandria still needing the horses to help with the heavy lifting and pointing out the walls and rebuilding won’t matter quite as much if they’re limited by their hunger and what they can physically lift on their own isn’t wrong. But I’m sure the same viewers that were okay with Daryl and Co. going out on Maggie’s suicide mission (using the same reasoning) and saying it made sense for the bigger picture will pretend not to recognize that the same element is there in Carol’s desire to go out there and look for the horses. You know. Because it was Carol’s idea and not that of their fave(s).

Aaron, Man. Or maybe I should say Angela. You just had to put a pit of dread in my belly mentioning Buttons like that. RIP, Buttons. You deserved better. I’m still traumatized.

Look at all the babies bonding. Look at RJ getting to sit at the big kid table.

“My mom always comes back.” She damn well better. Those babies need her. Until she does, though, Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol (and Aunt Rosita and everybody else) are going to be there.

Anyway. Poor RJ. He barely ever gets any lines, lol.

Hershel and Judith are obviously the mini-adults in this group and baby Rhee is already more cynical and jaded than his sweet daddy was until they reached Alexandria and the wheels started to come off.

So. Does Maggie just think everybody’s already dead here or what? Hmm.

You know. Any building can be creepy AF when the lights are off and it’s dark, lol. Any building.

So much darkness so far this season. I’m going to have to invest in some blackout curtains. I just know it.

Where are all those stairs leading? Why am I thinking of Hitchcock? Am I mixing up my scary, suspenseful movies? Probably.

Of fucking course, Maggie dropped her flashlight. Thank goodness she had that lighter at the ready just before Ghost Face Reaper took a swipe at her.

Is that Father G with a screwdriver impaled in his thigh? Listen. These people deserve a Mega Bottle of pain killers and a week just vegging out in a soft, luxurious bed.

All these horror movie tropes. Some of them are cheesy, yes. But I’m totally here for it.

LMAO. That’s it, Maggie. A good old punch in the nuts works every time.

Alden really is having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

Negan is still Negan. Self-serving and looking out for number one. But I believe the man really does feel the group is his group too. He’s like that long lost, sketchy uncle nobody wants to acknowledge much less invite to the dinner table, but that bond? However thin? Is there.

I am both hating that Maggie is being forced to work with the man that murdered her husband (my baby Glenn) and finding it fascinating the lengths she’s willing to go to survive. This your plan, Angela?

Rosita and Carol! How sad is it that the last really significant scene I can remember the two of these women sharing was way back? Before Rick and Co. attacked Negan’s outpost and Maggie and Carol were subsequently taken? If only the show had done more of these kind of scenes.

How much do I love all the girls working together? Gimps would never. They’d all be stuck back at Alexandria minding the kids and the community.

Shallow aside--Rosita is so pretty in this scene.

Rosita being worried about Carol honestly makes my heart hurt, because it’s about damn time more of them actually did. Her saying Abraham is trying to tell her something in her dreams is interesting. Angela sure loves her dreams, doesn’t she?

Where are Daryl’s dreams, hmm? No. Seriously. I guess they want to give some viewers plausible deniability until the bitter end.

“Really? We’re just gonna go toward the screaming? Cool.” Hahaha. You know. Even the smart people in horror movies sometimes bite it, Negan. Just saying. Maggie really does need to “stop running up the staircase” when she could just run out the front door though, lol.

Poor Duncan. I think you could have been another Tyreese, Jerry type for me.

WTF does this show have against horses? Those poor creatures.

Kelly is totally me right now. I’d be freaking inconsolable.

Carol needed that hug. Thank you, Magna. From the bottom of this tired fangirl’s heart, thank you.

Why give us that beautiful, golden shot with the horses when you’re planning to stab us through the heart later and twist the knife. Oh. Yeah. That’s exactly why.

Oh snap! Father G’s delivery when he tells that Reaper “I’m not. God isn’t here anymore.” Cold as ice.

Judas. That the Reapers’ work. Or. Damn. Either way, that’s harsh.

Back to what Alden was saying. All these oprhaned children. Who’s going to take on Adam if he dies? That poor kid has had a rough go of it. Knowing that, makes you wonder what Alden was thinking volunteering for the suicide mission.

Omigosh. There went Agatha. Terrible way to go. Right, Beatrice?

I’m sobbing. Carol with the horse. That hurt my baby so much but she hurt herself for her family the same way she has been doing since the Prison. Melissa Mcbride? When she cries, I cry. Every effin’ time. Aaron being there just made it hurt more. But at least someone was there to see how and really take in how she continues to break pieces of herself off to keep her family as whole and safe and happy as she can.

Rewinding a minute--that Magna and Carol conversation. I get Magna’s reasoning too. I do. But Angela is just making everything so dire right now so that the sun when Connie is ultimate found shines a ltitle brighter.

Those babies know they’re eating horse. I could never.

That’s got to be a different Coco. She’s even smaller. But she’s gorgeous.

Fucking finally. Angela having the other characters notice after an eternity of being blind to it, just how much Carol sacrifices of herself for them. It’s so long overdue and I imagine Rosita’s even more worried for Carol now. It’s a shame it’s taken 11 seasons. My baby’s had blood on her hands trying to keep her family safe and whole and happy and fed for a long damn time. So heartbreaking watching her try to scrub the blood away.

Sweet, sweet hug that Kelly gave Magna. She’s such a sweetheart kid sis to all of them, isn’t she?

Interesting place of refuge. A gutted church. A visual symbol, Angela, of where Maggie and the rest of our people are now perhaps?

“It’s easy for you, isn’t it? Being reckless with sombody’s life...” Maggie. Maggie. Those words would have hit so much harder if we hadn’t spent the majority of the last 2.5 episodes watching you ignore sound advice just because it came out of the mouth of somebody you (justifiably) hate.

But will Alden be there when Maggie and Negan get back? That is the question. Or will he eventually Lucille himself?

That little bit of lineup Negan music to remind the audience of Negan lovers and sympathizers that he once took great pleasure in murderously swinging a bag at people’s heads was a nice, subtle touch there. Like agree with her or not, Maggie is literally left to rely on the hope, however small it is, that Negan has changed just enough that he won’t try to finish a job he taken on years before--killing what’s left of her.

Oh lawd. Next episode sees the return of a character literally nobody asked for. How excited am I not?

Dog better not be harmed or so help me.

Now for Angela’s weekly explanations of WTF she/there were thinking because they been doing this plausible deniability thing so long some people out there watching with biased, muddy stan glasses can no longer separate head canon from canon.

Is Maggie worried at all about Daryl or does she just assume his superhero powers are in full effect in this episode?

“You can’t really say it wasn’t going to happen anyway.” Not Angela pointing out that simply laying the blame for literally everything bad that ever happens at Carol’s feet isn’t the answer. Say it louder for those in the back. Alpha was going to do what Alpha wanted to do.

“There is love there. There is respect there. However, there’s also frustration...” You damn skippy. Friendships and human relationships are complex AF. Like Carol. She’s honestly one of the most complicated characters on this show and any show, IMHO. That’s what makes her so memorable and such a lightning rod for discussion.

I know I might be in a minority, but I really feel like they need more of those little scenes between the kids to keep things real.

Kang saying she always feels like she’s going to get murdered in a staircase or parking lot is relatable, funny, and sad all at the same time. It’s a girl thing.

Why is Carol’s story giving me Dark Knight vibes? Like I feel like she’ll gladly shoulder the burden of their distrust, their hate, or their judgment as long as the hard choices she makes keeps them safe. And she’s still ultimately going to come back to save their asses even when they forsake her. Just like Bruce Wayne/Batman. Am I reaching too far, lol? Because sometimes I do that.

Anyway. This is the third episode of the season and the third episode in a row that I mostly enjoyed. I don’t know if I’m just so relieved and happy to have all the characters and my show back or what, but overall? I’ve been pleased with the episodes and found something to love in all of them.

There’s a much stronger horror vibe woven throughout Season 11 so far. I feel like it’s a return to the roots of the show and I like that. Literally none of the characters are making perfect choices and this viewer is here for it. My only complaint so far is there hasn’t been enough Carol but what we’ve been given has felt like a gift and significant in a way that Gimps’ version was not. Also? I really hope the trend of the ladies working together and supporting each other continues because they rule the TWD world, lol.

Hope you enjoyed at least some of my TWD word vomit.

Until next episode.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons #my heart

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 4 years

Text

The Critique of Manners: Part III

~Or~

A Somewhat Indecisive Review of “Emma” (Miramax, 1996)

I have a feeling this review is gonna be a little harder for me to write. Everyone knows that recaps and reviews are most entertaining when the writer has an intense dislike (or intense feeling of any kind) for the drama they’re reviewing. It falls to other writers to pan or praise this film as they will, but I simply don’t have many particularly strong feelings about it at all. I have neither that repulsed dislike for this movie such as I did for Emma 1997, nor that disappointed frustration as for certain aspects of Emma. 2020, but neither do I have a deep, profound love and appreciation for it as I do for Emma 2009.

Written and Directed by American Screenwriter, director and actor, Douglas McGrath, Emma (1996) is rather what one expects it to be: a 90’s romance film. Perhaps it’s because I had expectations due to the era in which it was made, but I think I have a tendency to excuse some of the problems with this film. There are many unnecessary additions (for comedy’s sake usually and often quite cringe-y) and one definitely can’t claim that the dialogue hasn’t been tampered with. I don’t normally side with the “I do so miss Austen’s biting wit” crowd but, by ‘eck I felt it this time. That’s because Austen’s Biting Wit™ just doesn’t suit a fluffy 90’s chick flick (which this film is in a way that other big screen Austen adaptations of the time just aren’t – and I think approaching this film from the 90’s chick flick perspective is probably the best way to digest it.) This version, more than any other (except perhaps 2009) brings the concept of Emma-as-Matchmaker to the fore with a particular emphasis precisely because it’s a concept that fits well with the rom-com style of filmmaking used here.

The bones of this review, like my review for the ITV version, were written six years ago following my initial viewing only a select number of portions survive from that review (which is still on IMDb).

As with all my reviews I'll be comparing the script, characterizations and plot to the book and commenting on the authenticity and attractiveness of the costumes, and suitability of the houses and sets.

Let’s dive in.

Cast & Characterization

Emma is arguably the easiest of Austen’s works to read because of Emma’s generally good (if condescending and overly self-confident) character, and Mr. Knightley’s sober, mature but exceedingly pleasant manner. I had my doubts about Gwyneth Paltrow playing an Austen heroine, but I at least had faith in Jeremy Northam’s ability to portray the mature Mr. Knightly. My expectations were not entirely disappointed in either case.

My prevailing feeling about this film is that it’s not so much set in Jane Austen’s Regency England, but in an American fantasy of what Regency England was like. Perhaps the biggest factor that reinforces this impression is (of course) the casting choice for our leading lady, Gwyneth Paltrow.

Freckled, ruddy and thin as a twig, Gwyenth didn’t quite, to my mind, fit the physical description of Emma, who is supposed to be “The picture of health” according to Mrs. Weston. Add to this the Regency beauty ideal of a soft and shapely figure with regular features. Fair hair was generally preferred (and I have always imagined Emma as blond, although I’m given to understand that Austen’s idea of pretty generally favored dark hair), so I can’t fault Gwynnie there. What I can fault though is her so-so British accent.

I recently learned that the reason McGrath thought Paltrow would be a good choice was because she’s the only Texan he’d ever met who’d managed to entirely throw off her native accent; I guess he decided that if she could do that she could do any accent work? I guess? Seems questionable to me.

You know Joely Richardson was considered for this part? Gorgeous, refined (British) GODDESS Joely Richardson was passed over because Gwyenth managed to shake an embarrassing accent.

I hate American directors.

I’m not sure if it’s just part of the accent, or her attempt to sound upper class, but on this most recent re-watch it hit me for the first time how very nasal many of her line deliveries are. She also has this problem with looking (and sounding) sort of vapid and… just what is happening here?

Is she having a stroke at the end there?

A bigger problem than Emma’s casting, however, is her characterization.

Part of the above mentioned script tampering is in lockstep with some of the issues with Emma’s characterization here. Her very teenager-esque swings from vowing to never make another match again to immediately trying to think of another guy to set Harriet up with, and her getting carried away in potential scenarios “But if he seems sad I shall know that John has advised him not to marry Harriet! I love John! Or he may seem sad because he fears telling me he will marry my friend. How could John let him do that? I hate John!” (Especially when you never even really get to meet John Knightley in this version? Ugh, pass me with this shit) is so bizarrely childish it’s a little hard to stomach. She spends the movie going back and forth between mature and manipulative to childish and naïve and it just… doesn’t work for me. Emma can be all of these things but the transition from one extreme to another here seems a bit disjointed to me.

Knightley was a bit of a disappointment to me in this version. That’s not Jeremy Northam’s fault because I can’t think of a better choice they could have made. McGrath showed much better judgment with his choice for Mr. Knightley than he did with Emma.

My biggest problem with this interpretation was how laid back he was when he was supposed to chastising Emma. Their quarrels became more like mere disagreements so the proposal line of lecturing her and her bearing it as no other woman would have isn’t entirely earned. Even in the big scene at Box Hill where Knightley is really supposed to lay into Emma, he starts off pretty solidly, but by the end so doe-eyed and apologetic it fails to deliver the sting of rebuke that is Emma’s biggest learning moment in the story. Perhaps they were trying to go for a more disappointed feel (the kind that makes you feel worse than being shouted at because you really respect the person you let down) but it just didn’t come through for me.

Also of note is the fact that, (I assume) because John Knightley isn’t really allowed time to be a character in this film, McGrath took some of John’s introverted tendencies and transplanted them into his more convivial older brother (“I just want to stay home, where it’s cozy.” – I mean I feel that, but this isn’t something George Knightley would say.)

Onto the less central characters

I question also the choice of Toni Colette for Harriet Smith. I mean I actually liked her performance more on this watch than previously but I just don’t think she’s pretty enough for Harriet, and she looks a bit clumsy (though that might have more to do with her costumes.)

I also noted that McGrath bumps Harriet’s comprehension skills up just a scooch. Emma never has to explain the “Courtship” riddle to her, Harriet figures it out on her own after a while, while she never manages to in the book.

Now we come to the crux of Jane Fairfax, played by Polly Walker. I don’t care for this choice. My issue is the simple fact that she just isn’t believable to me as a demure, wronged character like Jane Fairfax. Seriously she looks like she would sooner throw Frank across the room than take his cruel teasing, and not in the subtle way that Olivia Williams managed to. They never even utilized her by including some of Jane’s more pointed returns to Frank’s jabs, which they even managed to squeeze into the massively cut down TV movie.

Speaking of Frank; Ewan McGregor, though generally delightful, was so under-used. Frank and Jane’s plotline always kind of gets shafted in Theatrical release adaptations of this story. It’s not as bad here as it is in say, the 2020 adaptation (they were in that version so little I actually forgot what their actors looked like), but it’s still pretty stunted.

I find it interesting that Ewan McGregor himself thinks his performance in this movie isn’t good; and I’ll agree it’s not his best (certainly it’s no Obi-wan Kenobi) but I thought he did a pretty good job with obviously unfamiliar material

Also if the Davies screenplay of ’97 made Frank’s character too caddish, I think this version didn’t make him caddish enough. I mean he’s hardly around enough to really develop his flirtation with Emma, and they merged Strawberry Picking and Box Hill into one sequence so we never see Frank’s ill humors. I can perhaps excuse this, since it seems like a nuanced story really wasn’t what McGrath was going for here, I think. This is a lite version of the story; schmaltzy fluff for teenage girls’ movie nights. Frank’s ill humors wouldn’t really have fit the tone of this version at all.

Interestingly enough, though it’s taken me a long time to make this decision, I think Alan Cumming might be the definitive Elton? He’s the only one who doesn’t immediately read as a slime ball from the get go. I mean he’s got all the warning signs that Austen wrote into him, but no more than that. He’s not slinking about greasily or obviously pandering (at first), so Emma’s uneasy realization of what’s really happening here isn’t a hundred miles behind the viewer’s (maybe just fifty).

There are as many Mrs. Eltons out there as there are adaptations of this story, and they’re all pretty great (funky accents aside), but other than the 1997 take, this one might be the least great to me. She’s not nearly pushy enough, because Mrs. Elton would never let Emma prompt the conversation when she could do it herself.

Also, I think McGrath misunderstands Mrs. Elton’s brand of New Money vulgarity. He has her talking with her mouthful, clanking her utensils on her plate as she eats, putting biscuits which she’s bitten into back onto communal plates, which I think even Mrs. Elton would know not to do. Table manners are pretty basic; the couth that Mrs. Elton lacks is of a more nuanced social kind – for instance, what is and isn’t considered gauche to talk about (like how big one’s brother in law’s house is or how many horses he keeps.)

(A sudden thought has just occurred to me: is Mrs. Elton just a more mean-spirited Hyacinth Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances? “It’s meh sister, Mrs. Suckling! That’s right, the one with an estate in Warwickshire and the two barouche landaus!”)

Sophie Thompson’s Miss Bates is chatty and one of better takes on the character, but lack of necessary background hinders her impact on Emma’s story. The comedy in her scenes is some of the best and actually made me laugh, although I think she was just way too giggly.

Miss Bates’s mother, Mrs. Bates, is played by Sophie Thompson’s real-life mother Phyllida Law in a completely coincidental quirk of casting. (I noted in this film how very much Emma Thompson, Sophie’s older sister looks like their mother.)

My only other serious issue with characterization in this adaptation is the representation of Mr. Woodhouse. He is somehow simultaneously more cheery and more disagreeable than he is in the book. His chiding about the cake at the Weston’s wedding seems more like a scolding rather than an anxious admonishment. In one of the first scenes, during Mr. Woodhouse’s “Poor Miss Taylor” speech, he says he cannot understand why she would want to give up her comfortable life with himself and Emma, to have “mewling children who bring the threat of disease every time they enter or leave the house,” and he says this IN FRONT OF ONE OF HIS TWO DAUGHTERS.

Of course in the book, Mr. Woodhouse does lament Miss Taylor marrying, leaving and even having children – but this is all in the context of the danger childbirth presents to Miss Taylor (And the fact that he can’t stand losing a companion). These are his complaints – not the children themselves. In addition, his elder daughter has quite a fine number of children, all of them very young, of whom Mr. Woodhouse is very fond. He’s a character that needs to be carefully handled because, much like his daughter, it’s very easy for him to become unlikeable.

For the rest of the time, though, he just sort of cheerily laughs and is very at ease, when Mr. Woodhouse, as a chronic hypochondriac should be made anxious by just about everything.

Sets & Surroundings

One thing I find interesting about this adaptation is that the houses they chose to use are all of a very neo-classical Palladian style, which I believe (given her disdain for the contemporary trend of knocking down England’s great houses just to rebuild them in a more fashionable style) Austen may have disliked to some degree.

One such house is Came House in Dorset, which was used as the Woodhouse’s estate, Hartfield. Now Hartfield is, I think, described as a well-built modern house so this could be pretty accurate (although Modern could refer to the red bring, boxy style of Georgian architecture, such as the houses used in the 1997, 2009 and 1972 versions.)

Another, Claydon House in Buckinghamshire played the role of Donwell Abbey. I think this might be the worst exterior ever used for Donwell, from a book accuracy perspective. Utterly Georgian, with its’ square façade, Claydon house sort of directly contradicts Austen description of being “Larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike it, covering a good deal of ground, rambling and irregular…” not only is the architecture totally wrong, so is its’ situation, in Georgian fashion, perched on a hill, when Donwell (a very old building) is supposed to be “Low and sheltered”.

Mapperton House is maybe the grandest house yet used for Mr. Weston’s Randalls (I’ve already covered in my review of Emma (2020) why this is a problem – although in this version, as in the 1997 adaptation, there’s no full panic over the snow, so this is less of a problem, but a house like this is still too grand for the reasonably sized Randalls of the book), but it fits the usual 15th-16th century house type that always seems to be used for Randalls.

A myriad of other great houses were used for interiors, however other than Crichel House (Dorset), which was used for Donwell’s interiors, I can’t find information on which ones where used for what. They include Breakspear House (Harefield), Coker Court (Somerset), Stafford House (Staffordshire) and Syon House & Park (Middlesex).

I really appreciate the interiors which were all very colorful and even included doors and molding painted the same color as the walls which is a very Georgian decorating convention, although it looks odd to the modern viewer.

Costumes & Hair

As a rule, the costumes (Created by Ruth Myers) in this movie are pretty damn good, composition wise, but the arrangement leaves a lot to be desired. Myers talked extensively of wanting the costumes to be colorful and bright like the water colors of the time, which she achieved brilliantly. What I find funny is that she talked about using color as if it would be controversial from a historical accuracy point of view, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

The evening wear is generally excellent

My only question around evening wear here is… what’s up with the waistline on Harriet’s ball gown? Why is it going up in the middle? Toni Collette (who actually gained weight for the role, since Harriet was described as “Reubenesque”) verged on looking a little dumpy throughout the film and awkwardly bumping up her waistline in the middle really didn’t help.

I’m pleased to report that is is the one version where Miss Bates’s evening-wear is allowed to look like evening wear. Even Maiden Aunts wore shorter sleeves and lower necklines at dinner or balls. They fussed her up with some lace gloves and frilly fichus but it follows the conventions of the time. I appreciate that immensely, though I have the sneaking suspicion that it’s because of Sophie Thompson’s age.

At 37 Thompson was an unconventionally young choice for Miss Bates, a character who previously had only been cast as older than 50 (Prunella Scales, who would play the role later in 1996, was 64). Indeed, Douglas McGrath almost passed Thompson over for the role on account of her age, but reconsidered after seeing her in spectacles. It seems possible to me that since Thompson was considered young they dressed her “young” as well.

The daywear is where the costumes start to really fall apart. There are a lot of looks here worn in the day that are VERY not day/outerwear appropriate, especially on Emma, most especially the yellow dress she’s wearing while driving that carriage (which, btw is inappropriate on a whole OTHER level). Can we just talk aboutt he cognative dissonance of bothering to put a bonnet on her when her arms and boobs are just hanging out like that? Like, it would almost have been less egregious to just leave the bonnet where it was.

But then there are a lot of Emma’s day-wear looks that are perfectly suitable and appropriate. What I find ironic about that is that most of the short-sleeved, low-necked “Evening-gowns as day-wear” looks are worn OUTSIDE in the sun and most of the long-sleeved, sun protecting, day-wear appropriate looks are worn INSIDE. She’s also got a profusion of dangling curls in day-time settings that are also more evening-wear appropriate (to match the dresses, perhaps?)

I’m also pleased to report that even in day-wear Miss Bates gets a break from brown in this version. Her clothes are nice, but not fancy like Miranda Hart’s in Emma. 2020, and I like to think that nice thick shawl with lace overlay is the one mentioned in the book that Jane’s friend Mrs. Dixon sent along home with her for her aunt.

My only problem with Mrs. Elton’s kit is that it’s all perfectly nice, but none of it is overly-nice. There’s no extra trim, no unnecessary lace, not even any bold colors. I hope Myers and McGrath didn’t take Mrs. Elton’s line in the book about her fear of being over-trimmed seriously.

Let’s talk outerwear. There’s a lot of going into town with JUST a shawl on in this movie (usually over short sleeves), and I’m sorry but I don’t think that’s how outer-wear worked in this time period. A shawl is good enough when you’re taking a turn in the garden but not for going out in public into town, unless maybe you’re wearing long sleeves, or perhaps paired with a SPENCER.

Never mind Mrs. Elton’s line about a shocking lack of satin at the end of the movie, I’m more concerned about the shocking lack of spencers. There are precisely three in this film. I counted (and the sleeves on Emma’s look like maybe they’re too long for her?) Mrs. Elton sports the only redingote in the film.

Jane Fairfax is, as always, in her classic Jane Fairfax Blue™,

although she has some nice white gowns at some points too.

Now, onto

Definitely a bit more colorful than the 97 adaptation. Mr. Knightley benefits most from the addition of colors other than green. He’s even got some smashing waistcoats and a very nice blue evening coat (I couldn’t get very good shots of them though). The problem is; those trousers? NOT. TIGHT. ENOUGH.

Also… you all see it, right? I circled it in red so you should. Yeah. Knightley is dancing in boots. WTF RUTH? Please! You’re better than this! Who dances in Prussians like that? I ask you! (Frank also wears boots to the Cole’s dinner party so that’s two strikes.)

I’m not sold on Frank’s looks. His day-wear is a bit sedate for such a confirmed dandy (I believe he’s called a “coxcombe” in the book?) and his evening wear… well he apparently only has the one look.

And speaking of Frank’s look in this film, I’d like to know at whose doorstep I should lay the blame for what Ewan McGregor himself has called “The Worst Wig Ever”; and why the hair designer in charge decided to model Frank’s aesthetic on a theme of “Chucky meets the Mad Hatter”.

This hairstyle not only looks dreadful, it’s not at all fashionable or authentic to this time period! Fashionable mens’ hair styles at this point were all relatively short. A Beau Brummel coiffeur, or a short Roman style, or a fashionable head of curls like Mr. Elton’s! Not this farmer chic. Robert Martin’s hair is more fashionable than Frank’s!

The tune they chose for Emma and Knightley’s dance is a baroque melody (so a hundred or so years out of fashion) called “Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot” and as is pointed out in the video linked above, and is the same tune and dance used for Lizzie and Darcy’s big dance in Pride and Prejudice (1995).

I get why it was used in P&P because, slow, stately baroque tunes are often used as on-screen short hand for snobbish character like Mr. Darcy. It’s not super intense either, like the baroque tune used in P&P 05, which was chosen for more romantic effect. So why use this kind of “stuck up” tune for what should be a romantic dance? Maybe because it was used in the 95 P&P which became, almost instantly, one of the most popular Austen adaptations?

Quick note on the dancing and music in this movie. I’m not an expert on English Country dance (I’ll outsource that by giving you the usual link to Tea with Cassiane’s analysis on YouTube) but I’ll add my two cents - I know Cassiane gave this a pretty favorable three full dance slippers but I think the way all of the actors and dancers move looks very poorly rehearsed and kind of sloppy. I think everyone just spread out way too much.

Douglas McGrath’s Script

I have to say one of the things this film did very well and brought to the forefront is how insular Emma’s life is. The opening credit sequence brings this to our attention right away by showing a spinning globe which, once it slows down is shown to be, literally, Emma’s whole tiny world. Hartfield, Donwell, Randalls and Highbury. That’s it. It’s perhaps not a very subtle device, but it does get the job done and very succinctly too.

I would now like to talk about my issues with the script of this movie; I have some problems with it. Very different problems than it’s 1996 counterpart though.

First let’s go over the comedic device that jumped out to me most in this movie: the awkward pause.

I think it’s only used twice but they both bothered me.

First there’s the pauses while Emma and Mrs. Weston grill Knightley on whether he considers Jane Fairfax romantically. It’s all written as very “OoOoOooo” with Knightley answering their interrogations and then sitting between them awkwardly as they stare him down as, none of his answers giving either Emma or Mrs. Weston satisfaction. This is one of the most teen rom-com moments of the film to me.

Next there’s all the quiet stretches while Emma and Mrs. Elton have tea at Hartfield. I don’t like the use of awkward pauses in this case because (as I mentioned in Mrs. Elton’s characterization section) it’s so ludicrous to me that there are pauses in this conversation at all. Surely the point of Mrs. Elton is that she loves to hear herself talk and her conceited obsession with the idea that everyone around her must only benefit from hearing her opinions. There should be no conceivable reason why Emma should have to prompt conversation like she does in McGrath’s version of this scene, except to derail Mrs. Elton’s constant self-important yammering.

Watching it this time around I found myself wondering exactly what McGrath wanted to do with this film. I mean I’ve been attempting to decipher exactly whether the changes made were conscious and based on artistic vision, or whether they were changed because the source material just flew over McGrath’s Hollywood Director head.

I mean he gets the important plot points across, but there were other scenes that I had issues with: namely, the Archery scene. This is a pretty intense part of the book because Mr. Knightly goes from astonished, to indignant, to truly vexed with Emma in a short period of time. But this scene in the movie is very casual. The part where Emma’s arrow goes wide and into the general direction of Knightley’s dogs, and he takes an opportunity to make a quip and says “try not to kill my dogs” particularly annoyed me. My issue is that this totally ruins the tension of the scene; and why are Knightley’s dogs sitting BEHIND THE TARGETS ANYWAY? Knightley is a sensible man, and one who knows better than to let his dogs rest in a place where stray arrows could hit them!

The dialouge is very jarring because it flips back and forth beetween being alright, and period appropriate and then it will just spring a very modern turn of phrase and pull you completely out of the setting. I know this is something that’s been brought up with the 2009 version as well but maybe it’s because the actors in that version have (in my opinion) better chemistry that it simply doesn't stick out to me as much.

The comedy in general in this movie just makes me cringe a lot of the time (Sophie Thompson’s “oh sorry, napkin” bit notwithstanding). Like the soup thing when Emma and Harriet meet Mr. Elton after visiting the poor, and the random kid that gets tossed into this scene with Emma… just doesn’t work for me.

Wikipedia describes McGrath’s tweaks on Emma and Knightley’s banter (which really weren’t changed that much, textually) as “Enlivened” to make the basis of their attraction more apparent, which… I’m sorry but nothing about the exisiting banter isn’t lively if delivered in a lively manner. And I wouldn’t exactly call Gywneth’s performance lively, because she has to concentrate to keep that accent up.

I mentioned already that what McGrath essentially did with Emma was take Austen’s story, and remove the nuance (Such as lightening Frank’s infractions in his relationship with Jane and, while not totally contradicting, but also not highlighting the economic commentary of the story that is thematic in Austen’s novel) in order to make a straight up 90’s comedic romance film (Which, if you doubt this, look no further than Rachel Portman’s Oscar Winning but very dated score).

My Question is why? Why bother when the SAME STORY had been adapted into a HIGHLY SUCCESSFUL, modernized rom-com THE PREVIOUS YEAR, which actually, even while being set in the 90’s, did the story greater justice, with far more insight and quality?

Emma (1996) was always going to be over-shadowed by Clueless. At the end of the day this whole movie was kind of a futile effort because despite excellent production quality, the actual contents are watered down and, in my own opinion, pretty roundly mediocre.

Final Thoughts

When I first watched both of these versions I came at it from a very one-or-the-other perspective. I forgave McGrath’s film because it was light and colorful and I’d heard Davies’ version praised so highly at that time as the only faithful, definitive version (only to be let down by it in almost every possible way). But coming right down to it now, it’s hard for me to really excuse McGrath’s effort because a version of Emma that doesn’t take itself seriously enough is almost as bad as a version that takes itself too seriously.

It never fails to jump out at me how diametrically opposed these interpretations are, from the characterization right down to the tone and lighting.

McGrath’s Emma is light in every sense of the word, where Davies’ is dark and ponderous. McGrath’s Knightley is laid back where Davies’ is aggressive and ferocious. Frank, in McGrath’s version, is let off easy by the narrative playing down his moodiness, while in Davies there’s an overshadowing dark-cloud of off-putting caddishness.

Ribbon Rating: Tolerable (58 Ribbons)

The more I watch the 1996 adaptations of Emma (invariably back-to-back) the more firmly I am convinced that Andrew Davies’ made for TV film was (in some ways) a direct response to McGrath’s motion picture.

Tone: 7

Casting: 7

Acting: 5

Scripting: 5

Pacing: 4

Cinematography: 4

Setting: 5

Costumes: 6

Music: 5

Book Accuracy: 6

#jane austen #jane austen emma #regency #period drama #costume drama #classic literature #emma 1996

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gundhams-pandemonium · 4 years

Text

The Dating Game

@fandom-goddd and @bakablyat

[Chapter One of my Shinsai Salmon Mode fic, Dm me for the Ao3 link. Nothing Explicit BUT some implied V3 spoilers]

"... A dating game?" He echoed the bear's words as he lay on his dorm room's bed. It was already strange to wake up in a locker, introduce himself to fifteen other people, and have a mechanical bear talk about how the 'original program changed' and this was 'a different mode'.

[Something about a killing game... Shuichi would rather not think about that too hard]

It was quite frankly... a mess. He should probably get to talking to people if he expected to find love. At the same time, how was someone supposed to find love in ten days?

[However there was an undeniable feeling and even partial truth that he knew these people. Like when Momota (who instituted on being called Kaito), someone he supposedly never met, called him 'sidekick' and it just felt right. Or how Akumatsu, the girl he woke up in the same classroom as, commented she was proud he took off his hat... it was odd to be with familiar strangers]

A knock at his door brought him to his senses. He opened, cautiously peering out until he saw the enthusiastic Piano Player.

"Hey! Shuichi!" She gave him a motivated greeting, her smile wide.

"Oh, hello Akumatsu," He returned her smile, though his not nearly as big.

"You know you can call me Kaede, but nevermind that. So, come on tell me, who do you have your eyes set on," She gave a teasing poke to his shoulder. He only stepped back, face flushed red.

"E-eyes on?" She hadn't already begun this 'dating game', did she?

"Mhmm," All of sudden her eyes went wide "You have started talking to the others, right?"

"Umm, No But- Hey!" He was grabbed and now being dragged out of his room.

"Nope, come on! Let's find you someone nice to hang out with," Soon he was released and following behind her.

He really was being dragged into this, huh?

"Hmmm, I see Kaito is with Maki. Kiibo is over there talking with Rantaro while Kokichi is spying on them. Himiko is being fought over by Angie and Tenko. Well, at least they look like they're having fun," Kaede talked about his 'potential suitors' (her words not his), her arms crossed as she carefully considered everyone. The detective only looked over at whomever she was talking about and began to feel tension in his chest. "Ooo maybe- wait no Tsumugi is taking a rest in her room last I knew. We were running in the gym, to try something new for the both of us, and I think I wore her out".

"Um, I don't want to be seen as being too pushy but maybe we can hang out?" At least comparatively she seemed very approachable, and he already felt semi-comfortable talking with her.

"I would love to! But... well actually, I'm about to go spend some time with Kirumi. However, Miu wanted something to eat first and I wanted to see how you were doing so it worked out. But, I don't think we'd have enough time to 'hang out' 'hang out', make sense?"

"Yeah, that does..." A little disappointing, but he wasn't going to be upset at her. Really, he should be thankful she's making an effort for him otherwise he'd probably still be contemplating in his room.

"Hey! Anyone not busy!" She called out and Shuichi really wished he had his hat to hide under. "Well that didn't work- wait! Shinguji, are you with anyone right now?" Her energy knew no bounds as she spun on her heels and headed toward her attended 'target' dragging the other teen behind her.

She was speaking to the long haired teen who'd been sitting quietly on the bench; from what the detective could recall his full name was Korekiyo Shinguji, and his title was the Ultimate Anthropologist. He was a bit strange, but he had no obvious qualms with him.

Korekiyo's eyes looked up from the book he held in his hands and glided from Kaede to lock with Shuichi's. His golden eyes piercing, and though he couldn't see due to the black zippered mask on his face he could imagine a smirk to go along with it. As if the detective was something to study-

He blinked his thought away, not sure exactly where they came from. Afterall, he'd hardly had a conversation with him. How could he guess if he was smiling much less what his thoughts were.

[At the same time, the idea in his head remained. And though it wasn't up and fore front it hadn't fully left him]

"With anyone? " He repeated, turning back to her.

[How.. How long were they looking at each other? Was it not really long at all? Was it in his head?]

"Yeah, for the game we're currently in," She replied, hands on her hips.

"Kehehe, no. I'd been reading, and when I wasn't I was just watching all around. This place is truly beautiful isn't it?"

The pianist in reply bit her lip, and Shuichi couldn't help feel the response was slightly... strange. Well, all people were different. Just because someone talks differently then how you expected didn't mean they were bad or anything.

"It is a nice day out, and you know who you can enjoy the day with! Shuichi," She splayed her arms out like the woman showing a prize on a quiz show. And before Shuichi could tell her anything else she raced off.

Well, she gave him no other choice. At least, despite his odd demeanor, he didn't seem cruel or crude [There were many crude people he decided against... dating]. Actually, sitting and reading a book was quite a common thing that he liked to do himself.

[He could hear Kiyo reading aloud. A text he couldn't focus on due to getting lost in his voice. Another odd, sudden, thought that he pushed back with anything else of this nature that appeared in his mind]

" I believe your friend just 'set you up' with me" The anthropologist brought a hand up to his chin, resting his palm against it.

"D-dont phrase it like that! Makes it sound so sinister..."

"Oh, really? Kehehehe..." His laugh trailed off.

Great, they were sitting awkwardly in silence. Not something you'd do just trying to meet someone, and especially not someone you were attempting to speed date.

"So, what book are you reading?" Certainly this was a good starting point.

"The Necronomicon," Or not.

"The... what?"

"Kehehe," He laughed. Oh, he was joking? With how serious he sounded he didn't even realise.

Then he turned the book around, for the title to be showcased. It read "The Necronomicon". His mind blanked, was he supposed to laugh too? Was he to question this book? Would he be offended by his shock?

"Not that I believe this book to be factual..." Oh thank- " While spirits are real, you can not just bring the dead to life. Though, it Is amusing in a way to read."

Shuichi felt like he was getting hit by a pillow only to turn around and to get a swift kick to the gut. It wasn't necessarily painful to talk to him, but he couldn't keep up with these constant surprises that blindsided him.

"Where did you find it?" That can't be too outrageous, nor have him completely confused by the answer.

"My dorm room. Monokuma, which refers to itself as headmaster, told me it was a reward. Though for what he did not specify. Curious don't you think? I've never met before yet he implies he knows me well and that I'm deserving of this for something I've done in the past. If it is a present due to my talent... Well I don't see why since my Ultimate Lab is enough."

Once again they fell into silence, though this one was more thought provoking. An intermission, so to speak, to pull the clues together and to start bouncing theories off each other.

"Maybe, it's not that we've been here before but that they've tracked us? After all, I walked past Kaede's Ultimate Lab and it was completely customized to her. And they took us from various places..." Shuichi said, already feeling ridiculous. This probably wasn't what the guy was aiming for, to make actual theories. They were just here for a simple conversation and now he was making him ponder their odd (and slightly horrifying) situation.

"They did kidnap us all for a purpose, and made sure we are Ultimates... They did mention this was like a reality show? Perhaps us being Ultimates, and teenagers, is supposed to draw in the viewers. Make them believe this is something extraordinarily ordinary. Ridiculous really, romance is romance and human romance has beauty in all forms. Whether it be the start of one, the end, or even the middle it holds a plethora of emotions; romance is celebrated in all cultures in some way, whether it be marriage or otherwise. Did you know about the Celtic wedding tradition that later was adopted into Christian ones? You see, they used to throw rice at the newlyweds. It is still done today, albeit rarely due to it affecting birds. The rice was to symbolize growth, expansion really, of the family. So... beautiful. Food has always been so precious but love triumphs that."

The anthropologist rambled on, and he couldn't help but feel enraptured by each word. It was fascinating, and to hear someone he first thought wasn't talkative at all... well it lifted a weight off his shoulder that he would have to lead the conversation.

"You seem to know a lot about romance. Do you read romance novels?"

"Know a lot... ah, you have misunderstood. This is simply what I've gathered from careful observation and analysis. Not from novels, though, if from any books they'd be nonfiction. Those are my prefered choices after all," he looked at the book he'd brought with "And I'd hardly call this a usual book for me... do you like to read, Saihara?"

"Oh yeah, I read from a lot of different genres. Though, as cheesy as this sounds I prefer detective novels. If it's a good one I like to try and put the clues together before the protagonist can,"

"Very cliche as you put it. But what is expected of a detective, you must constantly be prepared,"

"I'd really hardly call myself a detective, I just enjoy puzzle solving. For example, I couldn't solve a murder case in real life or anything but a book I could... I only solved one missing persons case, it was originally my Uncle's and..." Shuichi could already feel a wave of shame and guilt come over him; he didn't deserve this "Ultimate" he was just a glorified puzzle-solver. He ruined someone's life and now he was living in a dream-like world where his only goal was to find love.

"There is nothing wrong with preferring puzzles, nor nothing wrong with only solving one case. You have a talent, and if that is evident in the academy then it doesn't matter what you've done and rather what you will do,".

Shuichi wasn't sure he wanted to do much of anything more with being a detective but... well he appreciated the kindness in the other's words.

"... Observation," Korekiyo stated, as if it made sense on its own.

"Huh?"

"You would make a good anthropologist, or at least it may interest you slightly. It is all about observing, and to solve something you must do some observation," Though his eyes were looking at him, they seemed not to see him. As if looking beyond him "Would you be opposed to being taught about the subject?"

He froze at the question. That was... quite a sudden leap? Although, looking at his fellow classmate, it was as if that is what had been on his mind the whole time. He didn't have anything against learning, knowledge was something he always enjoyed, yet he felt something stop him from immediately saying yes.

Why did his hands suddenly feel so sweaty, and why did his mind buzz with sudden anxiety? He would never deny that social situations were not his strong suit, but something like this hadn't happened before.

Swallowing his fear (and the dryness in his throat), he responded.

[This next choice will affect the rest of your route...]

[Accept ] <-----

[Reject] <------

[Accept] ✅

"Well, you are an expert on the subject! I think learning more on it could be interesting, especially if-"

"Excellent!" Korekiyo blurt out, and for the first time Shuichi saw his emotions shine. It was a sudden burst of energy, one he quickly composed himself to cover up "...this evening, after meal-time, meet me in the library. Preferably around seven and no later than nine. The books will, hopefully, be more informational than the one in my room. I will see you later, Saihara. Be prepared for your eyes to be opened upon seeing the beauty of humanity."

Without another word, or a response, the anthropologist left him.

He certainly got himself into a commitment...

It was lunch, and Kaede proposed they sit together.

"Do you wanna sit with Kirumi? Oh, unless your, uhh, date didn't go well?" Shuichi asked, the bouncy girl shook her head.

“We were fine! But she's serving everyone food, and I wanted to sit with you. Y'know," She gave a wink and a smile "I was wondering how you and Korekiyo hit it off."

"You make it sound so... official," His face reddened and she laughed "I think it went well? We're going to meet in the library at seven," He explained, trying to pull at a hat that wasn't there.

[He couldn't remember ever taking it off... but he also remembers it being in his room...]

"Oh? Really? That's so exciting! See, a date!"

"Well, we all are going on dates... that's the point of this all," He mumbled out.

"But he wants to talk to you more, that's promising! Unless..." her voice trailed off "Do you like him Shuichi? If not then obviously you don't have to-"

"I-its nothing like that!" He cut her off, immediately feeling regret doing so "It's... I'm not sure what to think of him? I've only known him for a few hours. He seems nice, but what if...what if he's just a friend type?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to find out!" She gave her companion a pat on the back. "Don't stress too much, this situation may be strange but it isn't the worst. Keep your head up high, and get to know some people. Even if you are nothing more than platonic, it will be worth meeting him, right?"

"... You're right! Thanks Kaede."

"No problem! Now let's get something to eat!"

"Perfect timing, Saihara," He stepped into the library, the smell of mold already hitting his nose. It was a dirty,dingy place, it couldn't even be argued that it was old in the "cute aesthetic way". His eyes scanned, seeing the piles upon piles of books that were stacked not only on the shelves but the floor.

Korekiyo was sitting in the corner, a small table and a pile of books beside him.

He wondered, silently, if the stuffiness of the area even bothered him slightly.

" How many books is that?" Shuichi sat down across from his, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Hm, just twelve. But they are merely for reference or in case you want to study a topic further. I prefer explaining things myself," His golden irises didn't even seem to dim in the dingy room, as if they were glowing "But where to start?"

He felt more in a college lecture, than on a date. If lectures were between two people, that is. Maybe more of a study group... well it certainly didn't feel romantic. Somehow, that eased his worries. This was to get to know each other, he didn't have to prepare himself for hand holding nor kisses right away.

" Well, I know that anthropology is the study of people, but how about you give me your definition?" This would certainly get him talking.

"Hm, that certainly is a good place to start. Anthropology studies the thoughts behind traditions and customs. It delves into the topic of folklore, and the way differnt tales from all over have similarities. Or even how the same story has differences. It is all based on how people interrupt as well as putting one's own feelings into the tales. It's not just with folklore, though certain anthropologists only study folklore, you would be able to do the same with customs. Anthropology is a truly human study through and through, so your definition isn't wrong just lacking in the specific details, " One would find it hard to read someone's expression when half thier face was covered, But where he lacked his hands flowed in joy. It wasn't overtly distracting, otherwise his point would be null and void, instead in tune with how he spoke. " Anthropology is everywhere, and is constantly changing, which is why my studies will never be fully done. It is why I must observe and research continuously- It may be hard to some but it is merely routine for me."

Hearing him talk about something so passionately piqued his interest. He'd never thought of anthropology as a topic of interest besides mild, but if Kiyo was leading the discussion he sure he wouldn't mind.

The conversation continued to flow; with Kiyo's long rambles and Shuichi asking questions which would either continue the topic in more detail or the conversation to move to a different part of the vast subject.

"Shuichi, have you ever traveled before?"

"Traveled? What do you mean?" That came out of virtually nowhere; though he was discussing field work in different countries, he hadn't suspected being asked himself.

"Taken trips, whether they be on your own or with others. Or, do you tend to stay in one place?" Shuichi was about to explain before a noise cut off his sentence.

"Ding, Dong, Bing, Bong," An almost chilling chime played on the speakers.

[All he could remember was blood splattered on the shelfs, and pooled on the library floor. The victim lay- Wait, what? He wasn't a homicide detective...]

"It is 10 pm, officially nighttime," Monokuma's announcement rang through, the Monkubs chiming in once and a while to add on with little remarks.

"Hm, I suppose we should leave and retire for the night... we shall resume tomorrow, at the same time? "

Tomorrow as well? Well, he could hardly refuse, and he was still curious about the topic.

"That sounds good; well I'll see you then, it was really interesting talking about anthropology with you," He gave a smile, and the other looked pleased.

They went their separate ways, and Shuichi was pleasantly surprised with the outcome of the "date". Whether he'd become friends... or... either way he could see his relationship growing positively.

[End of Day One]

#danganronpa #shinsai #v3 killing harmony #shuichi saihara #korekiyo shinguji

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that-bi-bitch-writes · 4 years

Text

The Rumor Around Hogwarts (prologue)

Hi everyone!! This is the prologue and it is pretty much exactly what the author wrote and I don't take credit for it. I made a couple of changes to the chapter but it is towards the end so if you want to skip through you can until about the last paragraph to find the part about Y/N L/N. Enjoy!!

Male reader insert for now, future addition of they pronouns as it will lean more towards a non-binary insert with the only change being less reference to Y/N as a young boy and more gender neutral terms. Still masc/male aligned.

Previous // Next

Prologue:

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had two small sons, too, but they had never even seen them. These boys were two good reasons for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar -- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realise what he had seen -- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive -- no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt -- these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. "The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard--" "-- yes, their son, Harry--" Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey Or Harold There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her -- if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drill that afternoon and when he left the building a five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside of the door.

"Sorry" he grunted as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary his ace split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passerbys stare,

"Don't be sorry my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw -- and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?" "Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son -- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of -- well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over -- it couldn't affect them...

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, I've been celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone--"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..." Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder.

"I know... I know... " he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's -- it's true ?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore.

"We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here ?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!?"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future -- there will be books written about Harry -- every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore. "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to -- what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild -- long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where -- ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" "Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map o

f the London Underground. Well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house. "Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead -- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles--"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"

The boy who lived, however, was not the only threat to Voldemort's plans. There was another baby boy who would grow up to be extraordinary. His fame would not reach the height of Harry Potter, but he need not be the boy who lived for he will be the boy who decided to speak.

"I heard a rumor"

#harry potter #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x male reader #hp #reader insert #male reader insert #x male reader #rumor #x nonbinary reader

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kerikaaria · 4 years

Text

If I Never Met You: Chapter 33

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Angst, fluff

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: Serious injury (NOT life-threatening)

Series Masterlist

Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34

A/N - Thank you to the lovely @ditttiii for giving this a beta read for me and helping to make this chapter better! I love you!

You sat a distance behind the filming crew observing the music video being shot, Jimin snuggling close to you. You woke up way too early today in order to fit in as much filming as possible and the first scene filmed was Jimin’s, which involved a bathtub and a lot of water. Hence why he was stuck to your side, still looking for warmth even after drying off and changing into fresh clothes.

This video was by far the most ambitious one yet in the boys’ careers. The story beginning in this video and with this album had started being created almost a year ago now, and had been worked on and tweaked for the longest time until it was finally settled into what will be presented this comeback. Hardly any of you even had the story straight though – it was very interesting and really well-planned out, but also rather confusing and convoluted. It’ll be interesting to see what the fans come up with when they realize there’s a plotline to be uncovered.

“How many more days of filming do we have left?” Jimin asked, his voice muffled from where his face was tucked into your arm.

“I don’t know for sure, it depends on how well things go,” you said. “But since the majority of the outdoor scenes are done, I think it’s safe to say we’re getting close to the end.”

“I hope they don’t need me to do any more shots in that bathtub.” Jimin shivered. “It’s taking me forever to warm up.”

“It’d be quicker if you go into the dressing room where it’s warmer,” you suggested. A space heater had been turned on in the room earlier to help the boys whose scenes were less than comfortable to endure.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have someone to cuddle with so that’s boring,” Jimin whined.

You smiled, letting Jimin stay where he was. Everyone here didn’t even bat an eye at Jimin being cuddly with you—it really wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Just as long as everyone stayed focused and did their work, that’s what mattered. And for you, all you needed to do for now was sit by and watch the filming take place. Rather boring on your part, really. You only needed to make sure things were going smoothly.

Yoongi’s scene finished, and he was immediately being wrapped in a blanket as he walked away from the set. In contrast to Jimin, Yoongi’s scenes involved being surrounded by fire in a burning hotel room. Being surrounded by intense heat, no matter how uncomfortable, meant that as soon as the heat was gone the drastic temperature change would make him feel incredibly cold – hence the blanket.

He walked past you and Jimin, looking like he was heading toward the dressing room.

“Hyung,” Jimin called out, “why don’t you come here? Noona is really warm to snuggle with!”

Yoongi barely glanced your way, shivering underneath the fabric wrapped around him. “No thanks, the dressing room is warmer.”

“Let me know if you need anything, Yoongi,” you yelled before he was out of earshot. He lifted his hand, hidden underneath the blanket, but it was enough of a gesture for you to know that he had heard you.

The next scene the crew was preparing to film was Taehyung’s. His scene was one of the more mature ones – most of it wouldn’t make it into the first cut of the music video being released next month. But there were plans to have a second version released with more clips to show the story which would include the bloody ones from Tae’s scene, making the video rated for adult viewers only.

In the scene, there would be two other actors portraying Taehyung’s father and sister. It was pretty intense, including a small fight scene with his character’s abusive father. Tae was a bit nervous about it, but if any of the boys could pull off this scene, it would be him. You knew he’d do well.

You wanted to watch the scene from a bit closer, much to Jimin’s displeasure, so he finally went back to the dressing room to finish warming up while you stood nearby as the crew prepped to film the next scene.

They began filming the opening of the scene where Taehyung walked through the hallway and saw his father hitting his sister through the open doorway. He grabbed one of the bottles on the nearby table and rushed in to defend his sister.

They shot the scene a few more times to make sure to get the best take, along with a few other ones to set up the scene better. After that, the camera filmed from inside the room to get a good angle of Taehyung ‘hitting’ his father on the head with the bottle after rushing into the room.

The next portion to be filmed was of the father fighting back a bit by pushing Taehyung away, before Tae rushed back at him. Everyone got ready to begin filming the scene, which was for sure going to take quite a few takes.

During the second take, the actor ended up pushing Taehyung into the standing shelving unit against the wall. Since it was all acting, he wasn’t pushed hard and he immediately assured everyone that he wasn’t hurt while the actor apologized. You approached them, double checking with Tae to make sure that he really was okay and he smiled, assuring you that he was in fact, perfectly fine.

You backed away, giving everyone room to start filming again. His reassurances did ease your mind a little, but you still watched closely as they continued. You relaxed after a few more takes went by fine, and the director announced that the next take would be the last one before moving onto the next part of the scene.

The take began, Tae mimed the action of hitting the actor over the head with the bottle. Once he recovered, the actor pushed Tae back. He ended up knocking Taehyung into the shelves again, harder than the first time.

It all happened so quickly. All you knew was that the furniture was obviously wobbling from the impact, it looked dangerously close to falling over, and Taehyung was still standing right in front of it. You didn’t even think before you pushed past the filming crew to reach for Taehyung, pulling him away from the object as quickly as you could.

In your haste, you hadn’t accounted for yourself and before you knew it the heavy furniture was making contact with your shins, forcing you to the floor. The sound that left your mouth when you felt the force of the impact was one you didn’t recognize as your own.

Your mind was reeling, still working on catching up on everything that occurred within the span of just a few seconds. It was only when the adrenaline from the situation began to wear off that you were able to feel the pain radiating from your legs. You kept your mouth closed to at least try and muffle the scream that you couldn’t hold back.

“Help me get this off of her!” you heard someone yell. Yourmind was too muddled by the pain and shock to recognize who it was.

“And where the fuck is the medic?!”

Taehyung couldn’t do anything as the events continued to unfold in front of him. One second he was acting, the next he was being roughly pulled away. Before he could even turn around to see what was going on he heard cracking sounds, and then came the godawful scream. That horrendous sound that he had never ever imagined he would hear come out of your mouth.

When he finally turned around and assessed the situation - seeing you on the floor and the shelving fallen over, having landed on your legs – Taehyung was frozen. You, his manager and friend, were hurt because of him. Because he didn’t pay attention, you jumped in and protected him. It shouldn’t be you that was hurt, it should be him.

He heard voices around him, but they sounded distant. It wasn’t until he felt someone pushing past him that he was knocked back into reality. It was Yoongi who, in his rush to reach your side, had bumped into Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Help me get this off of her!” Yoongi yelled as he stared at Taehyung, holding onto one side of the dresser.

Taehyung quickly jumped into action at his hyung’s words, gripping the opposite side.

“And where the fuck is the medic?!”

“Lift on three?” Tae asked, and Yoongi nodded. They counted in unison, using as much strength as they could to lift the heavy wood, placing it back where it belonged against the wall. Once it was safely back in place, both of them frantically kneeled on the floor on either side of you.

“Noona?” Yoongi asked gently. You seemed to be in a lot of pain, which wasn’t a surprise if the sound from earlier was any indication to how injured you were. “Noona, can you hear me?” he asked again when you didn’t reply. Taehyung slowly reached down, brushing some of your disheveled hair out of your face.

“Y-yes, I ca-an hear y-you,” you managed to say. Taehyung decided he really didn’t like hearing how pained your voice was.

Before they could say or do anything else, the medic rushed over carrying a medical bag and asked both of them to move so he could assess your injuries.

Taehyung felt like he was running on autopilot when Yoongi directed him away from the scene toward the other members. He felt familiar comforting hands and hugs and barely registered mumbled words of concern. The whole time, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from where you lay on the floor.

There has to be something I can do. I was the one who was supposed to get hurt, not her.

“Taehyung,” a voice called.

“Yah! Taehyung-ah!” it called a second time, just loud enough to pull him out of his own head. He turned to the source of the voice to see his leader looking serious. “Don’t talk like that. It’s not your fault, okay? No one was meant to get hurt in the first place, so don’t you dare go saying you should be. Got it?”

He was confused for a moment before he realized he must have spoken his thoughts out loud. “But, hyung-”

“No,” Namjoon said. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to. The look on his face said it all.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Jimin asked shakily.

“I doubt it was anything life-threatening,” Yoongi said. “So technically, yes.”

“How bad do you think it is?” Jungkook’s voice was hardly audible.

“It’s definitely not good,” Taehyung managed to say. “I heard… I heard cracking sounds. More than one.”

“I’m not surprised,” Namjoon said. “I mean, furniture like that can be heavy in the first place, and add the fact that it was small surface areas that made contact, combined with the force of gravity and-”

“Namjoon!” Seokjin interrupted him. “You’re nervous rambling, and none of your smart brain knowledge is helping anyone feel any better. Please, just stop.”

Ashamed, Joon lowered his head. “Sorry, hyung.”

“It’s okay,” Jin comforted him, squeezing his shoulder. “I know you’re worried, just like all of us.”

“I’m going to call Sejin hyung,” Hoseok said before walking away. He tried to hide the fact that he was starting to tear up, but they all knew him too well to not notice.

In a blur that Taehyung could hardly remember, an ambulance came to take you to the hospital, Sejin came to the filming studio and the on-site medic informed him that both of your legs were broken, filming was called off for the next few days, and Sejin got all seven of the members packed up to go to the hospital. It was a unanimous decision that they couldn’t just go home after something like that, they wanted to be as close to their manager, their friend as possible

You were groggy and dizzy. As you felt yourself waking up, you tried opening your eyes but your eyelids felt really heavy. After a few moments, you managed to crack my eyes open just a little before they fell shut again. Trying a few more times, you eventually managed to get them to stay open, while your mind finished returning from wherever it had ventured off to under the effects of the anesthesia.

All you knew was that you did not like the feeling of waking up after being put under with that stuff. You hoped you would never need to do that again. As you fully woke up, you started to feel sore. You had an IV connected to your arm, which was no doubt delivering pain medication to your system, otherwise you were sure you’d be in a lot more pain. Despite the drugs, you still remembered what had happened.

You were taken to the hospital after the medic confirmed your legs were broken (something you could have told him yourself if you were capable of producing a coherent sentence at the time) and the x-rays showed that, of course, both fractures were displaced. The doctor decided it was best to do surgery to get the bones set into place properly so they could heal. Looking down at your legs, you felt relieved to see that they were able to forego any external fixtures, so at least you wouldn’t have to deal with that.

Now that you could lift my head enough to look around, you realized you weren’t alone in the room. To your right a mop of dark hair lay on your bed, a strong hand gripping onto yours loosely while its owner slept. Despite his face being turned away from you, you knew all your boys well enough to instantly recognize the figure as Taehyung.

You watched as his back slowly rose and fell with his steady breathing. Knowing him, he was probably blaming himself. You’d have to be sure to give him a good lecture about that once he was awake.

Just a few minutes later the door to the room slowly creaked open as a few of the boys wearing their masks walked in. “Oh, you’re awake,” Yoongi said quietly, trying not to disturb Taehyung.

You nodded. “Yeah.” Your voice came out hoarse. You cleared my throat a bit, hoping that would help. “I woke up just a few minutes ago.” That was a little better.

“How are you feeling?” Jin asked, coming to stand at my left side.

“Alright, I guess,” you said while Jin brushed your hair back. “I feel really sore, but I have a feeling whatever is in this IV is keeping most of the pain at bay.”

You felt Taehyung stir for a moment before he suddenly jolted awake. “Hello, sleepyhead,” you said with a light chuckle.

“Noona!” Tae stood up so quickly, you almost didn’t even see him move. “Noona, you’re awake.” His lip quivered. “I’m so sor-”

“Nope,” you interrupted him. “Don’t you dare do that. I know you’re blaming yourself, but stop it.” He looked taken aback by your interruption but didn’t say anything as you continued. “I made my own decision to jump in the middle and ended up getting hurt. I should have paid more attention to how close I was to it, so it’s not your fault.” You took in a breath, squeezing Tae’s hand with both of yours. “I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

Tae wrapped you in as much of a hug as he could with the awkward angle of you lying down and him standing next to the bed, quietly crying into your shoulder. “But I still wish you weren’t hurt.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, stroking his hair. “I just need to heal, I’m going to be okay.”

Yoongi approached the bed, giving you a small smile. “He was really shocked,” he said. “He’s been acting almost like a zombie this whole time. I think he needs some more time to fully register it all.”

You nodded in understanding. “Is it just you three here?”

“No, everyone’s here,” Seokjin said. “We’ve been rotating in shifts. Except Taehyung, he’s been here the whole time. I can let them all know that you’re awake if you want,” he suggested.

“Yes, please,” you said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to see me conscious.” Jin nodded in agreement before leaving the room.

Yoongi moved closer now that he could, and before you realized what he was doing he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You felt my face heat up at the gesture. You had gotten chaste kisses from some of the others, but Yoongi was never one to show his affection in that way, so it was a complete shock to you.

“We’re glad you’re okay,” he said softly. You felt Taehyung nod against your shoulder in agreement. “We’ll be with you every step of the way while you heal, noona. I promise.” He took your hand and squeezed it.

You squeezed back, smiling at your friend and leaning my head against Tae’s. You didn’t respond, but you didn’t need to. Words weren’t enough to portray what each of you wanted to say, but that was okay because you all understood each other perfectly without them anyway.

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lobster-mobster-aq · 4 years

Text

I little thing I wrote on my thoughts on who I think the UA traitor is in My Hero Academia.

The war arch in My Hero Academia is feeling like it’s coming to a close, and we still seem no nearer to finding out who the UA traitor is. It’s still just something we’re…reminded about every now and again, with no real progress being made on who it is.

People have their theories. Denki, Nezu, and Monoma seem to be the most popular candidates. Monoma because he’s an asshole, Nezu because that would actually be interesting for the plot and make sense, and Denki because…he has electricity powers so he could have been the one jamming communications during the U.S.J. arc.

The whole traitor thing has kind of gotten to the point that there aren’t a whole lot of people it could be without if feeling like the name was selected out of a hat. There aren’t any clues, this side plot isn’t developed, we’re just reminded about it here and there and that’s it. No fingers are being pointed. None of the characters seem to be taking that active of a part to find out who the traitor is. There’s a traitor, we know that. They’ve spied on the students but other than that nothing has been done to figure out who the traitor is.

If it ends up being a major character, it’s hard to imagine the motive will seem natural. If it’s a side character, it’s going to feel like a letdown. The fact that two of the most popular are Denki and Monoma affirm that. Denki and Monoma, two characters where it hardly makes sense. That is how few clues have been offered to us, the readers, that two characters who would make lack luster traitors, are the most popularly theorized to be the traitor.

Out of these three, the only one I kind of like is Nezu. Denki’s is based on one piece of evidence. That’s not much to go on. It would be boring if Monoma was the traitor. Oh, this side character we barely see that hates class 1-a is the traitor. Oh no.

Nezu, on the other hand, has a cannon reason to be resentful of heroes and the current powers at be. Honestly, he has a villain’s back story. It makes sense, and he would be in a good position to help the baddies. The show has also shown that he excels at manipulation and that he, um, kind of enjoys messing with people. It actually makes sense he would be the traitor.

Though, I still don’t love it. One of the reasons is because it almost seems a little…too obvious. Also, the couple of inner monologues where Nezu is like, ‘I must find the traitor to protect my students’ seem kind of weird if he’s the traitor. If he was saying these things out loud that would be fine, but he’s not, he’s weird if he’s the traitor. Why would he have inner thoughts about finding the traitor if he was the traitor? It’s possible Horikoshi just wasn’t thinking about it, which would be a bit sloppy, but all authors do things like that.

So at the moment it looks like right now I’m leaning towards Nezu. He’s is the only character who has motive, and it would be interesting if it turned out to be him. His betrayal would affect and impact the characters in a real way. Denki has no motive and who the fuck would care if it was Monoma?

Or, is Nezu the only one?

Most people when they try to figure out who the traitor is, go at it with a sleuth’s attitude. Who has motive and ability? But I would like to offer up a different approach.

Instead of looking for clues in the story, I’m going to think of this as an author.

Traitors can be a fun thing to throw into a piece of media. They can also be really hard. Make the traitor a character people really liked and had grown attached to, and there’s a chance a lot of people will be angry. Seriously, imagine how many people will be pissed if the traitor ends up being Denki. But, if you make the traitor a side character, you run the risk of the betrayal feeling boring. Sure, that character is a traitor, but it doesn’t feel like a betrayal to the reader/viewer. The traitor has to have some importance to the main characters at the very least. Even if the reader doesn’t know them well, if the main characters do the betrayal will affect the narrative of the story.

The best betrayals affect the way we thought about the story as a whole. Much like good plot twist needs to be more than something happening that we couldn’t predict. It needs to recontextualize how we view the story and the characters. The reason why Ray’s betrayal in The Promised Neverland slaps so much is because it makes us totally revise how we view that character and all his actions. It was a surprise betrayal, yet his motives make sense with who he is once we’ve learned what his motives were. And his betrayal affects how the other main characters act from then on out. If the traitor had been like Anna or something it wouldn’t have been nearly as good.

That’s why Monoma would be boring even though he has…not motive exactly but what he has is more than most characters. If the main characters were from class 1-b his betrayal would be interesting, but will any of the main characters really be that emotionally impacted if it’s Monoma? The answer is no.

And to be honest, at this point it will be hard to have it be someone in the main cast without their actions seeming contradictory. Ray’s betrayal happened pretty early on in the show/manga. If the manga had waited till like, half-way to reveal he was a traitor, it would have been hard to justify some of the things he did over the course of the story. Oh, he was just biding his time. No, it would have just felt like it was time for the traitor to be revealed. That’s why, as much as I like Assassination Classroom, Kaede’s betrayal kind of falls flat. It feels like it comes out of nowhere. She had no build up. She was just being there until it was suddenly time for her to reveal she was the traitor because it was time for that plot to happen. Yes, it recontextualized her character and what she was doing, but it didn’t feel relevant. Ray’s betrayal blew my mind because the story built up to it, Kaede’s betrayal made me go, “oh, so that’s what this character is doing now.”

And that’s why Denki’s betrayal would be lack luster. Even if they gave him a motive, I just kind of feel like it wouldn’t be a natural build up to the revelation. It would feel like it was simply time to move that part of the plot forward.

So are they any side characters where their betrayal would affect the main characters significantly enough? Are there any side characters where they would be in a position that would allow them to have access to the kind of information that he gave the bad guys? Are there any side characters who could have motives that would make sense or at the very least motives that wouldn’t seem to contradict what they’ve done in the past. A traitor that no one would have ever expected because we just can’t see their motives yet? A character whose betrayal would impact they trajectory of the story and the main characters yet hadn’t been involving themselves too much in the story line so it wouldn’t feel like the character was just hanging out until the plot was ready to deal with the traitor?

I do believe there is one such characters.

And his name is Naomasa Tsukauchi.

That’s right, All Might’s detective friend.

Before you say it, yes, as of right now he doesn’t have motive. But be fair, neither does anyone else really. Like, maybe Nezu has motive, (I don’t really count Monoma’s grudge against class 1-a, the manga has made it very clear that’s all it is,) but that’s it. And a bit of a monologue explaining Tsukauchi’s motive would feel less weird than the same thing for anyone else. Other than the fact that he’s a good guy and a bit of stickler for the rules, we don’t know too much about him.

Tsukauchi’s betrayal would devastate All Might. Midoriya may be the main character, but All Might is kind of the central theme of the show. All Might’s best friend being the traitor, much like Stain’s appearance, could radically influence the course of the story. Stain was in a handful of chapters, yet we’re still feeling the effects of his presence. Tsukauchi’s betrayal could be same way.

And oops, now the traitor is one of the few people who know the truth about the quirk All for One. That would already make him a more interesting character than nearly anyone else. What is he going to do with that information? Is he going to use it as a weapon? Tell someone he shouldn’t about it? Oh my this is getting interesting.

Also, if he were to suddenly be in the story more, it wouldn’t feel weird. He’s a detective, and All Might’s best friend. If an arc centered around the traitor were to suddenly pop up it wouldn’t feel weird at all if Tsukauchi was there. If they were needing to do some sleuthing, it would be more than natural. We could get to know him better in the context of figuring out who the traitor was, and it wouldn’t be like, “Okay, why are these two things happening at the same time?”. If Snipe was suddenly more involved in the story when the traitor thing kicked into high gear it would be a bit of a signal he probably has something to do with the traitor. Why involve Snipe all of a sudden? I mean, I guess it could just be a coincidence, but it seems kind of random. Tsukauchi being involved in any traitor sleuthing wouldn’t feel unnatural, and in the course of the story it would feel natural that he would be involved more.

But wouldn’t Tsukauchi being a traitor kind of contradict his rule following lover of justice stchick? Yes, one would think. But he’s leaked sensitive information to All Might in the past in the name of “doing the right thing” so obviously he’s willing to bend the rules for himself. And he doesn’t approve of vigilantism…but he admits he appreciates the Crawlers efforts (the Vigilantes spin off, in case you didn’t know.) We know he’s willing to bend the rules in the name of doing the right thing. Well, what if once we got to know him better we fully understood what he thought the right thing was? After all, he’s a detective, maybe he’s uncovered some things, things that the government and the police chief are keeping silent. What if he found out about Shirigaki’s back story, (the fact that a whole building was turned to dust must be in public record somewhere) but he’s told to keep quiet about it. The police and government kind of dropped the ball on that one, to be honest. We already know, in the context of My Hero Academia, the government will jump through hoops and cover up scandals in the name of keeping up appearances with the public. All in the name of moral of course. What I’m saying here is that it wouldn’t be that hard to come up with a believable reason he decided to help Shirigaki, as long as the story gives him a good reason for thinking helping Shirigaki would be true justice.

This leads into how you could go in so many directions with Tsukauchi’s betrayal. Does he realize now he made a mistake but is keeping quiet because he’s ashamed? Does he still fully believe he’s doing the right thing and still supports Shirigaki? Is he falling somewhere in between, believing that the currently power structure needs to be destroyed but doesn’t quite believe in the destroy-the-whole-world ideology? That third one has a lot of potential to be interesting, especially if his motive is because he found out about Shirigaki’s back story and he was told to keep quiet about it. Tsukauchi believes in justice, but right now those in power don’t, they care more about appearances. There’s just so many interesting ways Tsukauchi’s betrayal could go that I just don’t see for any of the other characters.

And this is what I mean by I’m approaching my theory as an author, not as a sleuth. I’m not trying to pick up on clues. I’m not picking apart the story trying to untangle a web that (the author) has created. I’m thinking about who would make the most interesting traitor. Whose betrayal could result in the most interesting consequences? Whose betrayal could fit in with the themes already being discussed and considered? Whose betrayal could make for interesting drama? Whose betrayal could be handled in a way that was timed well with a revelation that would feel relevant instead of random?

Whose betrayal would make for good storytelling?

The answer, is Naomasa Tsukauchi.

Read it here too!

#bnha #my hero academia #ua traitor #bnha spoilers #promised neverland spoilsers #assassination classroom spoilers #naomasa tsukauchi

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