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angelasscribbles · 2 years

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Run Away: A Bad Romance One-Shot and a Choices Prompt Story

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

This is a @choicesprompt story, find this prompt here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Rashad

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language, mature themes

Word Count: 3,390

A/N: I haven't written a Riley and Rashad chapter in a while and I missed their dynamic so here you are!

The original Bad Romance chapter referenced in here is chapter 20: Full Disclosure. Chronologically this follows the one shot Interview.

subspace is explained here (it is simply mentioned, there is no NSFW scene in this piece)

My other stuff: Master List.

“Grab your coat, leave a note, and run away with me.”

“What?” Riley stopped what she was doing and turned to face the man standing across from her in astonishment, “Did you not hear what I just said about how insane this day has been?”

“I heard every word you said, ya amar,” Rashad answered, “That’s why you need a break. Come on, grab your coat, and let’s go!”

Riley stared at him in consternation for a long moment as she considered his words.

Riley was having a hell of a week.

The Royal Council was being a royal pain in her ass. They hadn’t approved the budget she’d spent the last two months working on and they were pushing for her to consider marriage alliances for her daughter.

Like hell.

Drake was off on his annual deep-sea fishing trip with Bastien, which usually left Marco in charge but not this week. No, this week Marco had the fucking flu so Bruno was running point on everything and he wasn’t good at it.

The schedule kept getting fucked up. Either she had too many guards or not enough. She’d never even seen the kid that was posted outside her door that morning. He was far too young, far too nervous, and far too fucking excited for her to deal with at six a.m.

Crown Princess Eleanor was being extra and two of the part-time nannies had quit in the last week.

Kiara was back in town. Riley had run into her at a high-profile charity event and had to pretend to be nice to her.

Madeleine had just started her job as royal communications director and was running roughshod over her inherited staff. The HR complaints were stacking up but Riley couldn’t deny the countess was excellent at her job. She wasn’t inclined to fire her, but she was tired of fielding complaints about a hostile work environment. The countess had exacting standards. The queen could not argue with her results. Maybe it was time for some restructuring anyway.

Liam was out of town on business leaving her to deal with everything. Fucking Liam. He was the whole reason she was even queen to begin with. She had never wanted it. Not for herself anyway.

She didn’t even have Max to fall back on because thanks to the nanny issue, he’d had to stay home with Ellie.

She had been about ready to break down when a knock sounded on the door and her new office manager stuck her head in to announce Rashad’s arrival.

Martha was the seventh office manager she’d had in the three years since she’d become queen.

The first hadn’t worked out because he had been extremely hot and Liam had gotten extremely jealous.

The second had turned out to be dumber than a rock and Riley was forced to admit she had hired him for his abs.

The third time she hired a woman, but she had been extremely hot and extremely interested in Drake. She had lasted a day.

“Wow!” Miranda breathed as she watched Drake from across the room, “The captain of the Queen’s Guard is hotter than all nine circles of hell!”

“What?” A hugely pregnant Riley snapped.

“Captain Walker, the head of-“

“I know who the head of my Queen’s Guard is!” Riley slammed the file cabinet shut, “He’s in a relationship!”

“Who cares?” the bombshell brunette with a perfectly flat stomach tittered, “I’ll bet I can get him into bed in less than a week!”

“You’re fired,” Riley thrust the hiring paperwork back into her hands.

“What? Why?” Miranda’s head swiveled around in confusion.

“Come on,” Max gestured toward the door, “I’ll get you over to HR to process your termination paperwork.”

The fourth one had actually been pretty good at the job, but after a year she had married one of the guardsmen that were always in and out of the office, gotten pregnant, and quit to be a stay at home mom.

Number five turned out to be an aspiring novelist looking for dirt on the royal family.

Number six caused a whole ass scandal by running away with the very married Count of Wickshire.

She’d finally relented and let Max do the advertising, interviewing, and hiring for the position like he’d asked to do in the first place. Max had brought all his organizational skills to the task. He had made flow charts and administered personality tests to candidates.

He’d found Martha who turned out to be a Godsend.

She wasn’t a hot guy for Liam to be jealous of, and she was old enough not to have any interest in Drake. She was also happily married, past childbearing age, and not a reporter. She was smart. And insanely good at the job.

Riley couldn’t have picked anyone better. Clearly, she couldn’t even pick anyone half as good judging by her track record. She had been abysmal at it.

But she had to admit, Max had knocked it out of the park with Martha. In the few short weeks she’d been there she had imposed order. The office now ran like a well-oiled machine.

And most importantly, to Max anyway, she ran things to his exact specifications.

Which was fine with Riley, she could give a crap less about how or where things were filed, who answered the phones, what information was placed in tabbed dividers vs filing cabinets, or which color marker was used to denote in-person meetings vs teleconferences vs conference calls.

She just wanted her agenda placed in front of her every morning, and whatever documents she asked for in her hand as quickly as they could get there.

Max had her agenda waiting for her on the breakfast table every morning and Martha did the rest.

Martha produced whatever she asked for, sometimes before she even asked for it. Her hot chai tea was on her desk every morning when she walked in the door and her messages came to her organized by priority and type.

If she ever threatened to quit Riley was giving her a raise. However much it took. A good office manager was worth their weight in gold.

Martha looked a little uncertain as she told the queen, “I’m sorry to bother you, Your Majesty, your attorney is here requesting a meeting with you, but he doesn’t have an appointment and Lord Beaumont was very specific about-“

“It’s ok, send him in! And Martha?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“He never needs an appointment and I’m always to be alerted immediately when he shows up, especially if it’s unexpected.”

“I’ll add him to the shortlist!”

The one that included the king, the head of her Queen’s Guard, and her personal assistant. Otherwise known as her husband and her two lovers. Lord Faheem was her lawyer. Was he more than that? Martha wondered, but it wasn’t her position to judge.

That was the other thing that made her a good office manager. Her extreme discretion.

“Thank you. Reschedule my next appointment and hold all my calls, unless it’s Liam, Drake, or Max.”

Martha disappeared and shortly thereafter Rashad appeared in her office.

All the stress drained right out of her body at the sight of him. “Ya helo! What are you doing here?” She sprang out of her chair, her face almost hurting from the width of the smile lighting it. She rounded the desk with purpose.

He moved toward her just as quickly, catching her in his arms. He buried his nose in her hair, his eyes falling shut as he inhaled deeply. Her scent sent sparks of joy and relief flooding through him.

He was content with the mostly solitary life he led but there was a coiled tension inside him that only released in her presence.

His queen. His lover. His best friend.

If he had a soulmate, she was it.

She relaxed into his arms and before she knew it, poured out the week’s frustration to him.

“I’m sorry,” she pulled away sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to just dump all that on you. Why are you here?”

“Ostensibly? I have those papers drawn up for you to bring a motion to change the succession laws.” Specifically, the part about having to be married to ascend the throne. It was utter bullshit and she and Liam had agreed that Ellie shouldn’t be subjected to it.

Riley raised an eyebrow, “Ostensibly, huh? What’s the real reason then?”

He could have had the papers couriered over and they both knew it.

“Because I haven’t seen you in months! Your voice on the other end of the phone wasn’t cutting it. I needed to touch you,” he confessed.

She had missed him too and now he was standing in front of her asking her to run away with him and it was oh so tempting.

“Just for the rest of the day,” he wheedled, “I’ll have you home in time to tuck Eleanor into bed!”

“I don’t want Max to worry-“

“That’s why I said leave a note. Or text him. Come on,” Rashad walked to the door and pulled her coat off the hook next to it, “let’s go.”

Riley mentally ran through her looming deadlines. There was nothing that couldn’t be done tomorrow, and Ellie was safe and happy at home with Max.

The council wanted to discuss a betrothal for the princess further, but the council could kiss her ass.

She could use a break.

“Okay,” she agreed as she joined him at the door and slipped into the coat he was holding open for her, “but whatever else we do, I need this to end somewhere no one can find us, or disturb us, preferably someplace with a fireplace, a huge bathtub and hot chocolate on tap!”

“I know just the place,” he assured her as he pulled the door open, “I’ll even throw in a foot rub, but first we’re going to get your favorite lunch.”

“Ohhh! The Lune Bleue?” It was her favorite bistro.

“Who else makes the world’s best Monte Cristo?”

“You do know me well,” she gave him her first smile of the day, then to Martha as they passed through the outer office, “Cancel everything for the rest of the day.”

She slipped her arm through his and smiled up at him, the stress from the day already draining from her body as he pulled the door open and ushered her through it, “Thank you for making time for me today. I intend to make sure you don’t regret it.”

Her fingers pressed into his arm, “And I intend to hold you to that.”

Rashad helped her into the back of a nondescript SUV then turned and quickly gave orders to her guards before climbing in behind her. His own vehicle would stay in the palace garages until they returned. The Jaguar XE SV Project 8 was his pride and joy, but it was not equipped with bulletproof glass and Liam had drawn a hard line about the vehicles that his queen rode in. Not that Rashad minded, he found it understandable, though it did rankle a little that she was able to ride in Drake’s Devore GT.

Perhaps he’d look into having bulletproof glass installed.

They both typed into their phones as they drove. Him, to give instructions to the restaurant ahead of their arrival. Her, to let Max and Liam know where she was. Her fingers hovered over Drake’s contact for a moment. There was no need to update him. He was in the middle of the ocean, and she’d be home before he would anyway.

Drake didn’t need to know she was playing hooky with Rashad.

The Lune Bleue Bistro was Riley’s favorite spot for lunch. So much so that the restaurant had added a private dining area reserved exclusively for her use so that they were always ready for a royal visit at a moment’s notice. The expenditure was easily recouped by the hordes of customers that flocked to their doors when they learned it was the queen’s luncheon spot of choice.

The SUV pulled around to the back of the establishment so Riley and Rashad could enter undetected through a private, back door. They waited until her driver got the all-clear from the head of the team that had arrived ahead of them to sweep and secure the area.

They entered the small, but elegant private dining room to find the food already on the table. Rashad pulled her chair out as he told her, “I called ahead and told them to have your usual order ready. I hope that’s satisfactory.”

“It’s more than satisfactory, thank you, this is just what I needed.”

The man and woman that sat across from each other at the table both occupied high-powered, high-stress jobs. They both spent all day, every day making decisions that had far-reaching consequences.

Rashad enjoyed the pressure, he thrived under it. He was excruciatingly detailed oriented, having exacting standards for both himself and others. He enjoyed and needed control over almost every aspect of his life, it energized him, but it could be hard to turn it off and everyone needed downtime once in a while. The one place he could let go of all that and truly relax was the bedroom, but only with her. It was shocking how quickly he always slipped into subspace with her. She was where he found peace, solace, and a quieting of his ever-spinning mind.

In direct opposition to Rashad’s need to micro-manage every aspect of his life, Riley would have been happy to chuck all the responsibilities of ruling and live her life as a vagabond, a free spirit, going wherever and wherever the mood struck her.

She did the job she did for Liam. He had needed a queen and he had insisted it be her and despite all her protestations in the beginning, she did love him.

Max and Martha did the micro-managing for her so she could focus on the big picture. She was great at thinking outside the box, coming up with not always obvious solutions and innovations. But then she liked to hand them off to someone else to implement. She didn’t like to be bothered with the details.

She enjoyed being in control in the bedroom, but outside of it, she got tired of the constant bombardment of decisions and responsibilities so far from being annoyed by what some women might see as heavy-handedness, she quite enjoyed it when Rashad took over the small, mundane choices so she didn’t have to.

Issuing orders to her guards, choosing the restaurant, picking the food…these were small acts of love as far as she was concerned. And he was good at it because he knew her preferences. It was perhaps the one thing he had in common with Drake.

They took their time with lunch, lingering over dessert, and catching up with each other. Riley showed him recent photos and videos of Ellie and he reciprocated with photos of his nieces and nephews.

“I have a surprise for you,” he told her as they prepared to leave, “something I’d like your input on.”

“Color me intrigued! What is it?”

He smiled indulgently, “You’ll have to wait until we get there!”

***

The crown-issued SUV turned off the main highway a few miles outside of the capital and wound its way down several smaller roads before turning onto a private drive. Riley sat up and looked around curiously. It looked very familiar. The driveway was long and windy, but as they pulled around the last curve and the house came into view, Riley drew in a surprised gasp, “Rashad! What is this? Why are we here?”

“Well, it recently came on the market, and I put an offer on it.”

A delighted laugh escaped her as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of the estate. “But why?”

He gave her a hesitant smile as he opened the door and climbed out. Hopping to the ground, he turned back and offered her his hand, “I remembered how much you said you liked it when I rented it for you and Max that time.”

She took his hand and climbed out of the vehicle, “Wait…you bought it for…me?”

“Us,” he felt heat creep up his neck as he explained, “I love our trips abroad, but I’d like to see you more often when we’re both home in Cordonia. This is close enough to Stormholt City to be a quick, easy drive, but secluded enough to give us all the privacy we could want.”

The press watched his penthouse like hawks because of those stupid most eligible bachelor in Cordonia articles and the palace presented its own set of impediments, mainly Drake’s disapproval. They could only be seen together so much in public in the capital outside of business meetings or luncheons.

“Are the peacocks still here?” she asked curiously, glancing around as they made their way to the entryway.

“Yes, but put up in heated pens for the winter,” he pulled the door open for her.

She stepped out of the sharp cold and into the soft warmth of the interior, “And it doesn’t bother you that Max and I used it for a rendezvous?”

“No. Does it bother you?” He closed the door and turned to face her, pulling his coat off then reaching for hers. He hung them both up as he asked, “Do you consider it a special place for the two of you?”

“No,” she shook her head, “We were only here the one time.” She and Max had their own special places, but this wasn’t one of them.

“Okay, good,” he let out a sigh of relief as he followed her down the entryway, “So what do you think?”

“About what, exactly?”

“As I said, I put in an offer, and they accepted it, all I have to do is sign off on it to finalize the sale. I took early possession because I wanted your input first.” The sale could still be voided if she didn’t like it.

He was nervous. He had sent women flowers before, jewelry upon occasion, and he’d never second-guessed his choices for either. What he had never done before was buy an entire estate for a woman. He’d also never cared so much about her response.

She stopped in her tracks as they entered the living room. There was a fire already roaring in the fireplace, “How-“

“I texted ahead and had the caretaker start the fire. I also had him stock the kitchen with all the necessary supplies for hot chocolate. Now, I know I can’t make it like Hana can but-“

She spun around and threw her arms around him, cutting him off with a kiss. He drew her closer in his embrace as he responded to the kiss in kind.

When the kiss finally broke, he leaned his forehead against hers, both of them grinning from ear to ear, “So, you like it?”

She traced a finger along his lower lip, “I love it, ya helo, sign the papers.”

“I’ll call the realtor while I make the hot chocolate. Why don’t you go take a bath? You remember where the master bedroom is?”

“Of course but I need-“

“All of your favorite personal hygiene items are already in there. The dresser and closet have been stocked with clothing in your size.”

“Now I know you didn’t get all that accomplished over lunch!”

“No,” he admitted, “Those items were delivered this morning. I had my personal assistant purchase them. I wanted to be prepared just in case.”

“Hm,” she pushed away from him, “Well you did deliver on everything I asked for today, and then some, so what do you say we wait on the hot chocolate, and you join me for that bath?”

“I say I’ll submit to whatever you command, my queen.”

A shiver of desire slid down her spine as she laced her fingers through his, “Come on then, let’s go christen this bitch!”

She led him up the stairs, giddiness swirling through her. She couldn’t and didn’t try to suppress the smile that lit up her face at the turn the afternoon had taken. She was so happy she had decided to run away with him, if only for the day.

#bad romance #choicesprompts #trr au #trr poly #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #angelasscribbles #why choose

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tdcloud · 5 months

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Infaust is PUBLISHED!!!

Another book off the list, and can you guys believe that makes eleven? It really seems excessive to me at this point... Like what the hell, that's too many books... But more the merrier for you all, I suppose. Let's talk a little about the new title and set things up for what comes next, shall we?

A lot of you have been here for a good portion of Infaust's second stage of development. It was a project I originally conceptualized back in 2017/8ish (I think, maybe earlier) while I was still interning at one of the many museums I've worked at in my adult life. It's hard to recall exactly what precipitated the whole thing. Likely, I had stumbled upon some folklore regarding the Pied Piper and had my brain chew on it until it spat out something vaguely Infaust shaped. I do remember having the idea of a witch with a dead familiar bonding with something Wrong running around in my head in general. Merging the two made Infaust, and from there it sat in developmental hell until last year.

Infaust has seen some of the most drastic rewrites and restructurings of any of my novels to date. It was a weird story, one plotted in ways I'd never really seen examples of in my own readings, and that made it harder to figure out. It's changed quite a lot from its first draft--and if any of you are curious about that draft, just search through my Patreon til you find it, I posted it after the Patreon rewrite so readers could contrast, compare, and see for themselves what a failed story looks like on my end. Fixing this story into something readable has taken years. A lot of those years, I wasn't patient. I wasn't willing to wait until it was polished and ready like it is now. But I had to. And I did.

For as many delays as I experienced while working on this book, for as many times as I grew frustrated with matters outside of my control inhibiting me from publishing when I wanted to, I'm grateful for them. Without those roadblocks, the Infaust of today wouldn't exist. You'd be reading a much weaker story than the one you've got now, and that would just be a crying shame.

I want to say an additional thank you to a few people who helped me get to this position, to the people who trudged knee deep through the turbulent waters of developmental hell alongside me over the years, who made Infaust what it is today. My editor NIL has quite literally been there from the start. They were the first person I ever spit-balled this premise to, and they sat with me, held my hand, and slapped me upside the head numerous times as I fought to get this tragic story onto paper. Sun, as you all know, made yet another gorgeous cover for me, all while dealing with some of the most tumultuous life events a person can go through. There would be no Infaust without either of them, and their impact on this publication seeing the light of day cannot be overstated enough.

Thanks go to all of you as well. Be you patrons, readers, fans, or just excited newcomers interested in picking up a book about a maligned, sad witch boy having some of the worst days of his life... thanks. Thanks for caring, thanks for being here, and thanks for giving Infaust a chance. It means the world. I can't wait to do this all again with you soon.

Until next time,

T.D. Cloud

#infaust #update #blog

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wartakes · 1 year

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“What Should It Look Like?” Part III: The Navy (OLD ESSAY)

This essay was originally posted on April 20th, 2022, and is a continuation of the "What Should It Look Like?" series of essays.

In this entry in the series, I go after the Navy - which I think in an Armed Forces of shitshows, is by far the biggest shitshow currently. However, in modern warfare, a navy is still crucially important, so I try to wrap my head around how to make it suck less in service of a foreign policy that also sucks less.

(Full essay below the cut).

Thought I forgot about this series, didn’t you?

Well, I didn’t forget about it. But in case you hadn’t noticed, global events over the past few months had distracted me some. While the war in Ukraine is by no means over and we should still pay close attention to it, I think I at least have sufficient breathing room right now to write about something else for a bit (I don’t want to become a single-issue commentator anyway). So, now seems as good a time as any to return to imagining how I would restructure the U.S. military in a hypothetical future where it was being used to more appropriate ends (if you’re new to this, I’d suggest starting back at part one and working your way up to this).

We’ve already talked about everyone’s favorite green machine, the U.S. Army. Now it’s time to take to the waves and try to unfuck what is currently the most fucked of all the services: the U.S. Navy. Oh, don’t get me wrong: all branches of the military are fucked up, but to put an Orwellian spin on it: some are more fucked up than others (and the some in this case is the Navy). So, anchors aweigh and full speed ahead: let’s kick this pig.

The U.S. Navy: America’s Floating Disaster Factory

Oh, U.S. Navy. You’re such a glorious trainwreck of an armed service. Whether you’re driving your ships into other ships, getting embroiled in massive and now infamous corruption scandals, or engineering procurement boondoggles that would make all the other services blush by comparison, you really are leading the pack when it comes to being the problem child of the Armed Forces. Add in the fact that out of all the services, you’re the one that’s gone the longest (since the Battle of Leyte Gulf in 1944) without actually fighting anyone who can give you a run for your money, and you’re just a recipe for disaster (beyond the minor ones you cause just by existing).

While it may seem tempting to throw the baby out with the bathwater, in a world where wars do unfortunately need to be fought and your military needs to move vast distances in order to fight them, a Navy is essential. In the event of a large scale war, the vast majority of the military’s heavy equipment and supplies will have to be moved by ship – as does the vast majority of the world’s trade in general. While air travel may be good for rapid deploying light forces and some equipment, moving an entire force by air is highly inefficient in terms of time, energy, efficiency, and more. As long as you’re going to need to move most of your forces and supplies by sea, and most of what keeps the world running moves by sea, you’ll need forces to control the sea and do battle on and from it as needed.

With that requirement laid out pretty clearly, how do you solve a problem like the U.S. Navy? I’ll give you a bottom-line up front on that now: cutting back in some areas and doubling down on others in terms of types of ships, and adopting a completely different strategic mindset.

The Carrier is Dead; Long Live the Carrier

I’m going to tell you right now: if you’re a big fan of aircraft carriers and carrier aviation, you’re probably not going to like what I have to say next.

However, I will give anyone of that disposition some small reassurance now: I don’t think aircraft carriers are obsolete, per say. I think they still have a use case. However, I think that use case has become – and will continue to become – far more limited as new capabilities and concepts in warfare are developed (and I’ll get more into why I think that in a few paragraphs).

The aircraft carrier was a game changer when it first saw combat in World War II, after having been developed between the two World Wars. It quickly rendered the battleship – the previous capital ship of naval warfare – all but obsolete and has dominated the high seas ever since. But now, crucial developments in military technology threaten to knock the carrier off its throne.

This is not to say that carriers have always been invincible. A quick peek at all the carriers lost in combat by all participants in World War II will show you that was never the case and that the carrier has always had threats. But those threats have evolved significantly to a point where the push and pull of advantage between the carrier and its counters is shifting in the latter’s favor.

The biggest threat to the carrier – and warships in general today – are anti-ship missiles (AShMs). These aren’t exactly new and have been a threat for a long time, but to be a true threat meant getting a platform carrying them – be it a ship, an aircraft, or a land-based launcher – close enough to fire and then getting the missile past all the carrier’s defenses (such as the AEGIS Combat System or Close-In Weapons Systems gatling guns). But missiles have increased dramatically in sophistication in recent years, extending their range and their precision. When you compare the range of the U.S. Navy’s standard anti-ship missile for the past forty years – the Harpoon – to the YJ-18 of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Navy, the Harpoon is rapidly becoming outclassed (which is part of why the Navy has been working feverishly to deploy an anti-ship variant of the longer-ranged Tomahawk cruise missile to the fleet in recent years). There’s also the unfortunate fact that, whatever defenses you have – or are building – they could always be saturated by more missiles.

But extended range models of standard anti-ship missiles and anti-ship cruise missiles (ASCMs) aren’t the only worry on the high seas. Now you also have to contend with a burgeoning new class of anti-ship missile: the anti-ship ballistic missile – like China’s DF-21D with a potential range of over 1300 miles. While ASCMs like the YJ-18 and Maritime Strike Tomahawk already have generous ranges, a ASBM puts an ASCM to shame with its range. An adversary with ASBMs on mobile launchers could position them all along its coastline – or even further inland depending on how extensive its range is – and fire on targets thousands of miles out at sea. And if you deployed an ASBM onboard a surface ship or submarine – as China reportedly may be planning on? Then you’d have even fewer places to hide that were out of range.

Obviously, these weapons aren’t infallible or invincible – no weapon is. Even if you have a fancy missile with a long range, you still need to find and fix your target before you can engage it, and the oceans are vast. But technology is improving on that front as well, especially when it comes to space-based sensors. What this all adds up to is a much harder time for large surface fleets in a major war at sea. While war on the ocean’s surface isn’t going anywhere, its certainly undergoing a rethink.

The carrier requires the biggest rethink in light of these changes, seeing that for any nation that possesses them (like the United States which possesses eleven – more than any other carrier possessing country), is going to be the largest and most conspicuous target on the water. If you do lose one, you stand to lose – in the case of a Nimitz-class – upwards of over 5000 officers and crew and as many as ninety aircraft and helicopters on top of the nearly 10 billion USD carrier itself. While the carrier will still have defenses both on board and in its accompanying battle group, as mentioned before those defenses are less certain in the face of technological developments and also potentially with sheer numbers. An AEGIS missile-defense system may be good, but if you keep firing enough relatively cheap anti-ship missiles at a group of ships, sooner or later one will get through (or the defender will just potentially run out of ammo first).

Again, carriers aren’t completely obsolete. Having a mobile platform capable of launching and retrieving both fixed-wing and rotary-wing aircraft at sea is still useful. Not every potential adversary in the future will have the advanced anti-ship capabilities that some of the most sophisticated militaries in the world are developing or even marketing. There’s still a number of countries around the world that see value in having carriers – including China, which has a third on the way with a fourth possibly in the works. However, maybe like how most other countries in the world that have carriers only have one, two, or at most a handful, we don’t need ten or twelve. It’s an asset that is useful in some situations, but not in all situations. I can’t say for sure how many carriers we should have, but I can say we definitely don’t need as many as we have now and that the final number should ultimately be based on the scenarios we see as most likely and the carrier’s actual role in them.

The few carriers that you’ll hang onto don’t have to be as big as a massive Nimitz or Ford-class “supercarrier” either. Take for example the French Charles de Gaulle-class nuclear-powered aircraft carrier – the only other currently operational conventional “flattop” carrier not in U.S. Navy service. Though at full load it is less than half the tonnage of a Nimitz class carrier, it still carries an air wing of up to 40 aircraft, including multirole fighters, support helicopters, airborne early warning and control aircraft, and more. It does all this with less than half the compliment of a Nimitz class. In a much-reduced role for carriers for the U.S. Navy, several of this size would still go a long way. And this is before we even go down the rabbit hole of STOBAR and STOL carriers – which most other countries have, but I just don’t have time to get into right now. Basically, you got proven options to go smaller and fewer with.

The bottom line for carriers is that they are not obsolete, but their application will become more limited and focused. One way or another, they’re going to have to operate in more permissive environments – either in warzones where extensive anti-ship threats are less pervasive, or in warzones where the anti-ship threat from all domains has been degraded enough to allow them to come in and support the forces that are already doing battle. Carriers still have a use, but more and bigger is not the way forward. The way forward is fewer, smaller, and more smartly used.

“Haha Missile Go ‘Woosh’”

The Navy doesn’t appear to be blind to the changing landscape in maritime warfare, which is why it’s been pushing its concept of Distributed Maritime Operations (DMO). As with most military concepts, a lot of it is pedantic and inscrutable, but the basic idea of DMO is to spread ships out further rather than concentrating them in easier to find and target groups – keeping them connected and coordinated as they do so. The idea is to create targeting problems for an enemy with a large – but not infinite – number of long-range missiles of various types; to make it harder to find and fix targets and make it more difficult for them to choose where to utilize finite resources and munitions.

This is a good first step, but the Navy is doing this while still clinging to the concept of the carrier as it continues to forge ahead with the new Ford-class to replace the Nimitz (which is just as large and has been rife with problems throughout development as all recent Navy ships have been). Meanwhile, the Navy continues to debate with itself and Congress just how many ships it should have (or how many it can really afford instead of giving us all health care and forgiving my student loans – FORGIVE MY FUCKING STUDENT LOANS, JOE).

This brings us to the second half of why fewer and smaller carriers are better – aside from them just becoming more vulnerable targets that offer an adversary a lot of gain from their destruction while offering their operator less and less utility. By having fewer and smaller carriers, you free up a vast amount of resources to put into areas where you get more bang for your naval buck (or send some of that money back to us peasants to build roads, schools, hospitals, etc. but what do I know I’m just a dumb socialist).

Basically, if modern naval warfare is a glorified missile duel, you’re going to want more missile slingers, and right now carriers are taking up resources that could not only be freed up for missile-launching ships but would get more value per ship if you chose to focus on that. You could buy a larger number of smaller ships like frigates and destroyers that present a harder to find target but still have considerable firepower. This applies not just to surface ships, but also missile submarines that could fire land-attack missiles and AShMs as well as torpedoes, and are even more difficult to find in the open ocean (I could go on a whole thing here about anti-submarine warfare but just rest assured that even under the best of conditions ASW is extremely difficult to do; oh, and seeing how ASW is hard to do, maybe if carriers weren’t sucking up so much manpower and resources you could focus on more ASW ships and aircraft)

The aircraft are another part of the equation on why cutting back on carriers gets you more, because not only do you no longer have to worry about the carrier but then also about supporting the numerous aircraft that it carries with munitions, fuel, maintenance, etc. Again, that’s resources you can divert elsewhere for more effectiveness (or again, back to actually trying to improve civil society somewhat). If your carrier is so vulnerable that moving close enough to an operational area to deploy its aircraft poses too much of a risk to the carrier, then maybe you’re better off hitting whatever you would have hit with aircraft with missiles delivered by ship, land-based launchers, or long-range bombers and other aircraft that can carry missiles to a stand-off distance and then fire them and turn right back around. Maybe the aircrews and maintenance crews might be better used in another capacity rather than sailing around on an airstrip that is only useful if it risks making itself a gigantic target.

Also, while I’m always the guy who cautions people not to make Skynet real, this is an area where unmanned vehicles could play a critical role. While I’m very much against making drones that can think and operate on their own, I think a more sensible road forward in this area for all domains is “manned-machine teaming,” where you have several unmanned vehicles that respond to the orders of a human or humans in a manned system and share information between the systems. In this case, instead of having a surface action group of three manned warships, you could have one where there’s one manned warship acting as the command ship, with a handful of unmanned ships essentially acting as floating, self-propelled missile launchers. Not only does not having to have crew on board those ships help you cut back on numerous costs and feel the potential loss of a ship less, but you could also send an unmanned ship into areas that would be more of a risk for a ship with personnel on board. I’m never in favor of creating weapons that operate without any human control, but this is an area where they can act as a force multiplier.

Putting An End to “Everywhere and Nowhere”

I don’t want anyone to be under the illusion that if you just got rid of most of the Navy’s carriers and bought a bunch of ships that just fired missiles that everything would be peachy keen with the service. While that would go a long way in pushing the Navy towards what it ought to be, it is only one part of the equation. There are obviously many other issues that the Navy – as the military as a whole – struggles with. I can’t go into all of them here, but I can go into one big issue that has led the Navy to where it is today and that’s it’s the idea at the core of how it currently operates: the obsession with presence.

At the end of the Cold War with the “peace dividend” that was bought and the cutbacks and drawdowns that ensued, the Navy was faced with a difficult choice with how it would structure itself and operate going forward in the post-Cold War world. For a myriad of reasons, the choice that it ultimately made was to prioritize a global presence above all else, rather than an actual ability to fight a war at sea. Former Deputy Secretary of Defense Bob Work lays this out in a piece for the U.S. Naval Institute (and while he immediately loses credibility in my book for referencing Samuel Huntington, he does make some good points). In a more ideologically aware reading of Work’s analysis, presence was seen as critical to demonstrating the Navy’s worth in a post-Cold War world without a major adversary, preserving American influence around the world by constantly being a reminder of American military might, and also potentially even deterring wars from breaking out through the constant presence of substantial military power.

Obviously, this did not work out. Countless wars have broken out since the end of the Cold War (some of them by our own doing) that were not deterred by constant U.S. Navy presence. Likewise, the degree to which the United States holds influence over the world compared to its fleeting moment of hyperpower in the 1990s is debatable. All the Navy has to show for it in return is a service pushed to the limit. A service that, despite being among the largest and best equipped navies in the world, many times seems to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time, jumping back and forth between places like a 90s sitcom character trying to be with two dates at the same restaurant. A service that, despite having several hundred thousand personnel, runs them ragged to the point they’re crashing ships into one another out of exhaustion and poor training. The U.S. Navy may not be to the point of the Russian Navy (yet), but on a long enough timeline without serious change it’s not hard to imagine it getting there.

One of my oft returned to concepts is the idea that empire is actually toxic to a military. Maintaining empire by necessity requires putting pressure and stress on a military that continuously erodes its effectiveness, professional culture, morale, equipment, and more. You see this in the case of the Navy’s focus on presence in the post-Cold War era, scattering its ships to the four corners of the globe, often with a mission no more specific than “to be there.” Now, even as it’s faced with a potentially serious challenger in the form of the ever-growing Chinese PLAN, the Navy still has this presence mindset that hinders it from returning to that original purpose of fighting a war at and from the sea. It just further reinforces that not having an imperial mindset and approach to the rest of the world is not only betters for the soul ideologically, but also sound military sense if you want a more healthy and capable force.

If you’re not constantly focused on having a ship in every single potential crisis zone or place you have an interest throughout the world, when the shit hits the fan and a crisis becomes serious enough to risk escalating into a war, you may actually have ships available with crews that might actually be well rested and know how to do their jobs that can respond to that crisis and be ready to fight. If you’re not focused on presence for the sake of influence, when an ally or partner comes under attack by an aggressor and requests help, you’ll actually have a naval force that is in good enough shape to assist them. Maybe its overly simplistic to me as someone who’s never served in uniform or taken a class at the Naval War College, but maybe also its just hard to wrap your head around these ideas when you’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid your entire career.

As much as I’m sure many on the Naval staff would love a return to the 600 ship Navy of the Cold War, that’s never going to happen even with the most generous of defense budgets under the current system – let alone under the system we’d rather have in place. Accepting that, then the Navy needs to step back from the obsession of being everywhere at once if it wants to be in one or two places when its really needed and then be able to actually engage in combat to a useful end. It needs to accept that it cannot on its own act as a deterrent and that at the end of the day its role is to fight a war when it is called upon to do so.

Semper Fortis (but for real this time)

A navy will remain a crucial component of the military even under a democratic socialist system, if we want to carry out the strategy I outlined in part one and actually military exercise solidarity with other peoples around the globe. A navy is necessary not only to keep hostile forces from the controlling the seas, but to support forces operating on land and in the air. An effective navy carrying out our strategy not only needs to divest of less useful systems and invest in more practical, efficient, and effective ones, but needs to completely reconceptualize what its purpose is. It needs to not only refocus on fighting a war at sea, but rethink the entire reason its fighting a war at sea to begin with. It needs to understand it is doing so not for the sake of its own influence or the influence of a particular country or flag, but to do so in order to play its part in protecting others that are in danger when war erupts. To ensure that the supplies necessary not only to fighting war but maintaining peace and life are able to flow freely.

For centuries, Navies have been seen by empires as critical to guarding the lifelines of capital and imperial power. For ensuring that an unbroken connection was maintained between the imperial core and its various markets and dependencies. That perception must be broken and replaced with a different concept of lifelines. That the Navy is instead responsible for guarding the lifelines that link together working peoples that are dedicated to building freer and more just societies for all who live in them. Lifelines that allow peoples and nations that are working to create a better world for themselves and others to defend one another from forces of reaction and authoritarianism. In this hypothetical better world that I imagine to keep myself from going batshit crazy, navies must play the role of helping to keep empire and fascism at bay, not working as an active agent to facilitate their spread. As with our perception of war in general as leftists, we have to flip the narrative on the Navy. We have to make sure that when warships put to sea, they’re doing so to defend others, not to facilitate their oppression.

Ok, alright, I’m dipping into the purple prose a bit too much now so I think it’s time to wrap this one up as I’m already over 4000 words (constantly setting new personal “bests” with these). In our next installment in this series, we’ll be looking at the Navy’s own private Army – the United States Marine Corps, and hoo boy I hope you’re not too attached to them because I have plans (don’t worry Marines, the plans I have for you are much like my plans for carriers; you’ll still be around, there’ll just be much, MUCH fewer of you). Also, if you thought I forget about amphibious assault ships in my rant on carriers – that’s where I’m gonna cover them. For now, though, anchors aweigh on my end. Until next time, stay safe out there, folks.

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drawlfoy · 3 years

Text

detention retention finale p.1

masterlist (read parts 1-2 here!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no this series is from my original idea however i did take inspo from quite a few people (credited at the bottom of this)

summary: gryffindor y/n is put to the test when she tries to use her detentions with draco malfoy to get close enough for him to share his secret. unfortunately, things are never as simple as they seem. (set in 6th year)

warnings (plz pay attention to these this time): blood, violence, mild gore, mentions of wanting to throw up, you’re just kinda not having a great time during this chapter. also, kinda dark!harry trope here. it is a little ooc, i know, but it was what worked and so i ran with it. also, i play around with the timeline of events that occur in hbp so just expect that

a/n: the long awaited p1 of the finale is here! the second half is almost entirely written save for a few scenes, and i expect to get that out in the next few days (so much less than a week). i really appreciate you all being patient--i wrote and rewrote the potion scene about 3-4 times because it just wasn’t the vibes that i wanted, but i’m semi happy with how it turned out and at this point i’m just gonna go crazy if i keep trying to restructure it so here we go. all the loose ends will b tied up in the last part and y/n is finally gonna catch a break ;) so as always lmk what you think!

word count: 8.7k

here’s a spotify playlist inspired by this fic!

tags: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @yiamalfoy @crystalox @dracoismybabey @dreamcxtcherr @decaffeinated-turtle @marrymetheonott @felicityofbakerstreet @daedreamss

enjoy >:)

Snape’s stores were much more difficult to crack than she’d expected. She’d managed to steal one ingredient from there once, but back then all she had to do was disengage the multiple jinxes that guarded the door. Since, unfortunately, her slimy old Potions professor appeared to have felt a compulsion to fluff his nest and redecorate. A new painting was hung on the door--one of a large raven with beady, intelligent eyes that followed her as she walked past as inconspicuous as she could, no doubt preparing to fly off into the painting’s grey sky to alert his master. Her father had something similar to this in front of his Gringotts vault. She resolved to speak with him over the break to try and find a way in.

Not like she’d had any chance to execute her plan, anyways. It had been two weeks since Y/N had so much as had a simple interaction with Draco. Every time she tried to talk to him, he turned his attention away from her, offering her a disinterested sniff in response or just outright pretending like he didn’t notice her. Pansy Parkinson seemed to take joy in this development, though she was hardly getting anything on her end save for a few dry looking conversations as Draco’s body angled away from her.

Without the “distraction” of friendship and genuine human connection, Y/N had plenty of time to emotionally free-fall into an internal moral crisis. She supposed that Draco wasn’t expecting her to keep up her end of the deal now, just as her Gryffindor friends had given up on trying to make her useful. Physically, nothing was stopping her from walking right up to McGonagall during one of her detentions and telling her that Draco Malfoy was making an attempt on the headmaster’s life. But was it really worth it? Every time the thought crossed her mind, all she could think about was the way Draco looked when he talked about his mother, the way a shiny film glazed over his eyes and his eyebrows knit together.

She’d made a promise. Too much was at stake. While she had failed her friends, she was at least not going to fail Draco...not when the rest of the world had betrayed him.

Y/N was slowly sifting through thoughts like those when Katie Bell stepped foot into the Great Hall for the first time in a month. Her legs, slightly wobbly from being on bedrest for the better half of November, carried her down the aisle towards the trio of Y/N’s now ex-friends. Her soliloquy was interrupted by the familiar sound of Harry’s voice as he spoke, hushed and rather quickly, to Katie, his hands animated and his frame bent slightly lower so he could speak quietly. It didn’t take much imagination to discern what the topic of their discussion was as their eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table. She managed to hear a few snippets as the wind from the owls blew in and carried it towards her:

“Malfoy--”

“Was it?”

“...remember?”

Katie, lips pressed into a thin line, shook her head. Harry bit his own lip and swung around to look at a blond figure further down the aisle. Draco. He was staring at the meeting, his body entirely frozen while he took it in.

Oh, Draco.

Before either party could say anything, he was already turned around and speeding off outside of the hall. She swallowed; Harry and the rest of her Gryffindor peers were conversing and not casting a single look her way. Taking a deep breath, she got up from her seat, leaving her half eaten toast behind.

It didn’t take long to locate Draco--Myrtle’s bathroom was hardly a minute’s walk away from the Great Hall. He was in the same position she saw him there last, his head hanging over the sink basin while his body heaved.

“Draco,” she called out.

He snapped around, his eyes wild and his hair slightly wet at the tips. It occurred to her that he’d splashed his face with water. “Come around again for a formal Katie Bell confession?”

“No!” she exclaimed. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get herself past the doorway. Not when his wand was raised at her like that. “I wouldn’t do that. I would never do that.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he snarled. “Do you really expect me to believe anything you say?”

“Please,” said Y/N. “Please let me explain.” Despite the sting of his words, she couldn’t help but feel some degree of relief when she realized that he was finally speaking to her again, finally acknowledging her again.

He let out a huff of disbelief. “This isn’t about you. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter whether or not you explain. You lied to me. You put my family in danger, me in danger. And for what? A date with Potter?”

“What?” All the air left her lungs as she stared at him. “It was never like that!”

“Save it.” His tone, a bitter blend of vileness and defeat, echoed off the stone of the bathroom floor. Y/N was overwhelmed with the urge to run up to him and just beg him to forgive her, but the fire in his eyes and the angry twist of his mouth told her that that wasn’t an option. Instead, she slowly crept towards him. His eyes blazed as she neared him holding her hands up. “Please, Draco. I’m begging you.”

His composure slipped, his wand shaking slightly in the air while he caught his bottom lip on his teeth and stared at her with a look she couldn’t quite place. She was just about to ask him about it when a pair of footsteps stopped right outside the bathroom.

“I know what you did, Malfoy!” Harry appeared, brandishing his wand and pointing it at him with conviction. “You hexed her, didn’t you? Katie?”

Draco sucked in a wheezy breath, struggling to stand up entirely straight as he held his wand at the ready.

“You’re not even gonna deny it?”

“Let me guess, Y/L/N couldn’t get a confession out of me so you’re here to pick up the slack?” Draco finally snarled. “How cute.”

“Shut up!” roared Harry. She’d never seen him look so furious before. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” he said menacingly, the usual cool confidence she associated with him slowly reappearing in his demeanor as he twirled his wand around his fingers. Y/N finally let out the breath she was holding as Harry zeroed his focus on her.

“And just what are you doing here?” he hissed. “Hermione was right, huh? You were with him the entire time. I can’t believe I expected anything different from you.”

Despite the fighting nature of the words coming from one of her best friends, she couldn’t help but glance at Draco as confusion briefly rippled through his features.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that she was being shunned by her friends for not telling them anything.

“I was just checking on him!” she wailed.

Visibly unsatisfied with the answer, Harry just scoffed and aimed his wand at Draco. “You’re going to confess what you did or I’m going to make you regret it.”

Harry wasted no time with firing off the first spell--a weakly cast Stupefy that hardly missed her head as Draco’s Protego ricocheted it in her direction. She yelped as she dodged it, smacking into the side of the stall door and falling on the ground unceremoniously hard. Frantically, she dug through the pockets of her cloak to locate her wand, but she was too late. A flash of light was headed her way.

Instead of it smacking into her chest with the force of a curse, the green light spread around her, creating a shield-like sphere. She met Draco’s eye’s briefly in shock.

He’d cast a protection spell on her. In the middle of a duel that she was hardly formally a part of, he cast a protection spell on her.

“Diffindo!” The puddles from the eternal broken faucet glowed red as Harry parried Draco’s attack. It again went flying in her direction, breaking through the shell of the Fion Duris charm. In a stroke of luck, she rolled out of the way. A light blue flash followed from Draco--a nonverbal.

Finally. Y/N managed to close her hands around her wand, mind racing with thoughts of who she’d disarm first. Her wand had just begun to point towards Harry as the aftershocks of a Levicorpus charm slammed her to the ground once again, her wand bouncing on the cobbled stone once before rolling under the stall door. Y/N swore. “Harry, stop it!”

Harry was clearly losing composure. Despite his magical talent, the speed at which he was rattling off curses compromised his control...and his aim. Draco sent a few Fion Duris and Protego Maxima charms her way, but it still didn’t help when Harry had completely lost it.

Things turned for the worst when his Tergeo actually sliced Y/N--just barely, but enough to draw a significant amount of blood in her wand arm. Even if she wanted to try and find her wand behind the toilets, she wasn’t even sure if she had the strength to fire off anything.

Her cry of pain prompted Draco to immediately turn his attention from Harry, angling his body towards her instead, an indistinguishable expression etched into his face as he took in the bloodstained white sleeve of her arm.

Under normal circumstances, Y/N would’ve swooned at the fact that he willingly forfeited the duel just to check on her. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Harry’s rage-filled expression and clenched jaw reminded her of this as he reeled his arm back and shouted out, “SECTUMSEMPRA!”

She didn’t think about it. To her credit, there really was no time to think. The cracking crimson light flashing towards Draco’s distracted figure was enough for her to launch herself at him with the intent of knocking them both to the ground--but she was too late, far too late. Glowing red light encased her entire body for a few tense milliseconds before she crumpled to the ground.

The Sectumsempra curse felt like every single nerve ending in her chest was being massaged with a sharp knife. Hot, sticky blood filled her mouth as she blinked, glassy-eyed and dazed, up at the ceiling. Distantly she could hear familiar voices over her body. There was a wet warmth that bloomed on her chest. She managed to glance down at her midsection to see an array of deep, short slashes scattered across her torso.

“Am I okay?” Her voice sounded tinny and funny to her. A pair of light gray eyes came into her vision as she managed another breath. “Draco? Is that you?”

If he leaned closer, she couldn’t tell. His face was beginning to swim in her vision, blending in with the glass ceiling. Finally, a familiar voice, albeit strained and cracking: “You’re okay.”

She felt something shaky brush past her cheek and the coolness of metal rings dance over her skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’re going to be okay.” He sounded so far away for someone who was leaning right over her. She could see out of the corner of her eye a figure, cloaked in dark robes, raise its wand and recite an unfamiliar incantation. The metallic taste in her mouth began to subside as she felt the warm stickiness of her own blood seep back into her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for but doing it anyway. She thought she could feel the warmth of someone’s fingers softly cupping her face, but it could’ve been the heat of the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. In that moment, she was overwhelmed with the desire to just be held, to not be lonely. “Please don’t go,” she begged.

The last thing she heard was a tense, “...Okay.” Then everything went black.

Y/N spent the majority of her break obsessing over the last memory she had of Draco--the startled way in which he gazed down at her as she bled out in Myrtle’s bathroom and felt his soft hands brush the hair away from her face. It was almost as if there had never been a problem between the two of them, like he’d forgiven her at that moment, but she knew that wasn’t true. Their last Potions class together had made that very clear. While he, thank Merlin, wasn’t letting Pansy hang off him like he did in 4th year, he still pointedly ignored her even though she had to nearly hobble into class. So why had he looked so worried if he didn’t care? And why, whilst surfing the high of a cocktail of pain potions, did she feel like she remembered someone with light blond hair at her side in the hospital wing?

“And you’re sure your bandages are comfortable?” Her mother interrupted her train of thought,, the plate of ethically-sourced willowbird lying completely untouched in front of her.

“Yes, Mum,” groaned Y/N for what had to be the hundredth time of her Christmas break. “I told you. Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey made me their top priority over the last week of school. They say that I won’t even need them come January.”

Mrs. Y/L/N hummed as she delicately picked through her salad.

“I can’t believe that Potter boy’s nerve,” said Mr. Y/L/N from the foot of the table. “Hexing his own friend like that?”

“Dad, he didn’t even know what it did!”

“Exactly! What kind of person does that?”

“He’s just stressed,” Y/N mused, though she was personally a tad miffed at the fact that she’d been brutalized by someone she once considered her best friend. “And he was a little angry at me. He thinks I’m in cahoots with Death Eaters.”

“Ridiculous.” Mrs. Y/L/N vigorously shook her head. “Anyways, dear, no relation to the previous topic: I ran into Minerva at Wurgie’s the other day while I was shopping for gifts. She told me something very peculiar. Is it true you’ve become friends with the Malfoy boy?”

Y/N paled. Dealing with the backlash of Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been bad enough, but her own parents? Over the winter holidays? “Draco?”

“Yes, unless the Malfoys have another son I’m not aware of.”

“Well…” Y/N searched her mother’s face for any sign of animosity but found nothing but genuine curiosity. “Yes. We both had det--I mean, we were partnered for a class project together in Potions. He seems to have grown up a little.”

Oblivious to the slip up, her mother nodded. “Interesting. I was actually quite close with Narcissa myself back in the day. The Malfoys certainly don’t have a great track record of picking the right side, but we were two quaffles in a case throughout our schooling.”

“You knew Mrs. Malfoy?” asked Y/N, her eyes wide. “I had no idea!”

“Of course, we disagreed on the pureblood values and traditions that should be followed with children,” continued Mrs. Y/L/N, “But despite that, she was always kind. I hope she’s faring well.”

Y/N gulped as an idea slowly began to form in her mind. “Er, Mum, actually...Draco told me some things about...well, his mother.”

Both of her parents perked up.

“So you know how you guys always talk about how the Order owes you a favor for the time you went undercover in the first Wizarding War?” asked Y/N. They both nodded. “Do you think...we could cash that in right about now?”

A month later, Y/N stood in front of the painting that hung on Snape’s door, frowning at the raven that stared right back at her, daring her to try and open the door. In all the excitement of Christmas and explaining to her relatives that she’d nearly been murdered by her ex-best friend in a haunted bathroom, she had completely forgotten to ask her father how to distract a charmed guardian painting, and it’d hardly be beneficial to owl him during a busy work month. It was still completely up to her.

The dungeons sent a certain chill through her bones as she ran through possible plans, prompting her to tuck her hands into her pockets and shiver so hard that she didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching.

“What are you doing down here?” came the snotty, posh voice that she knew belonged to Pansy Parkinson.

“Parkinson,” Y/N greeted, snapping her head up to see that she didn’t come alone. Draco strode next to her, though he wouldn’t look at her directly. “Come for a rematch?”

Parkinson pulled out her wand and scoffed. “Wasn’t planning on it, but if you’re offering…”

“Pansy!” Draco hissed, yanking her away and forward. “We have places to be. Don’t waste your time.”

“But--”

“She almost got killed by Potter, like, yesterday,” he continued in a hushed voice. “Do you really want to make that worse?”

Parkinson sent her one last sour look before she was dragged off by Draco (who still refused to make eye contact with her). Y/N slumped against the wall, wincing as one of her injured spots bumped against a protruding stone. Why was he ignoring her? He’d protected her during the duel. He was even the one who stood over her as she lay crumpled on the floor.

A lump began growing in her throat again as she realized just how lonely she was. With her friends gone, all she had now was...her owl, Edison? Yes, that was it. Edison and Hannah Abbott, who clearly was just letting her sit next to her for meals out of pity. Y/N wished that she had the strength to sit alone and just say fuck it so she wouldn’t have to be the kickstart to a bleeding-heart Hufflepuff’s philanthropy career, but she was already beat down enough as she was. Sitting alone would just seal the deal in her new life as a social reject who dreaded classes where the professors let you choose partners. It was like she was a shy first year again, too nervous to talk to anyone and instead sitting alone at the breakfast table, praying that she’d make friends with someone, anyone, even though she was too afraid to figure out how.

And then came Ron, the sweet ginger boy who she’d met once when she went to a wizarding play with her dad. He’d plopped into the space next to her one day, eyeing the untouched plate of toast in front of her.

“You gonna eat that?” he’d asked. Y/N had just stared, mouth agape that someone was actually talking to her. “Hey, you’re the Y/L/N girl, right? My dad works with yours.”

Without waiting for her reply, he’d just popped the piece of toast in his mouth and continued talking at her as if they were old friends. Before she knew it, she was getting swept up into the social swirl of Harry Potter and his friends, helping them as they made their way through Hogwarts and took on the challenges brought upon them by Voldemort and his cronies. For once in her life, Y/N felt like she actually belonged.

And she’d thrown all of that away.

“Y/N?”

An unfamiliar, dreamy voice sounded from a little further down the dark hall, snapping Y/N out of it. She hadn’t even noticed, but she’d slid down to the ground and tucked herself into a ball. When she touched her face, she felt wetness on her cheeks. The raven in the painting made some kind of weird cackling sound.

“Who’s there?”

A girl in Ravenclaw robes, strange eyeglasses, and shockingly white-blond hair that rivaled Draco’s stepped into sight. Luna Lovegood. She’d seen her a few times--mostly during the Dumbledore’s Army meetings they’d both attended last year--but had never had a private, one-on-one conversation with her beyond the time that Y/N threw a protection charm to protect her from Bellatrix’s Avada Kedavra at the Ministry and she’d thanked her.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone,” said Luna as she settled in next to her, crossing her legs. “Isn’t Snape’s raven lovely?”

“I suppose so,” mused Y/N.

“His name is Marvin,” continued Luna, “and he always listens.”

“Huh?” Y/N balked, giving Luna a funny look. No wonder they call her Loony Lovegood she thought. “It--he can...talk?”

“Oh, yes,” said Luna, apparently not noticing her confusion. “Marvin is quite the conversationalist, to be honest. Snape is a very fortunate wizard to have him in his possession.”

As if to accent her point, Marvin crowed a few times.

“I was actually coming here to have a chat with him about you,” said Luna. “I think it’s terribly unfair how your friends are treating you. I thought that Marvin might know what to do. He always seems to.”

“Luna,” Y/N murmured, not expecting the way that her eyes began to swim with tears. “You...you really think so? I’ve been feeling so awful about what I’ve done…”

If she seemed taken aback by Y/N’s emotional outburst, she didn’t show it in the slightest. “Y/N, you just care about other people. And you know what it’s like to be lonely, so I understand why you didn’t want to leave someone alone when they felt that way, even if it was Malfoy.”

Y/N bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling over.

“My mother had this saying about kindness,” said Luna softly. “She told me that it’s easy to be kind to people you already love. But you can really tell how caring someone is by how they treat those who are different.”

Marvin made a sound that was eerily similar to a jackhammer in the background.

“Thank you,” managed Y/N, letting the girl pull her into a hug. “I...I can’t say that enough. I really needed to hear that.”

“I know,” Luna replied wistfully. “I’m sure your friends will come around, too.”

“I sure hope so.” She swallowed, giving her a small smile as Luna squeezed her hand.

“Marvin is such a funny bird.” Luna shifted onto her feet, creeping towards the painting. “He loves shiny things. Now that I know the spell that weakens the barrier between the natural and painted world, I like to give him things sometimes. If he likes it enough, he’ll fly off to his flock to gloat to his murder for the rest of the day. He’s so proud.”

Something clicked in Y/N’s head. Was this her answer as to how to distract Marvin?

“It’s Transcendere, if you were wondering,” continued Luna, making to walk away. “Just in case you wanted to know. I can’t imagine why you’d need to, though. Anyways, I’m off to meet with Snape over a few questions on the exam. I don’t imagine he’ll be around here for the next hour!”

Before she could even thank her, Luna was already gone and down the hall. Y/N felt her pockets frantically, trying to find one thing that might appeal to the raven. He looked at her expectantly.

Her only piece of jewelry was her family ring, and apart from her obvious personal ties to the object, something told her that giving Snape’s guard bird a concrete identifier as to who broke into his stores would not be wise. So that left….She reached into her pocket, taking out the glittery quill that Draco had gifted her last fall. Giving it one last look and closing her fist around the feather one last time, she thought about how much she wished to go back to the simpler time.

Marvin made a little chirp, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Transcendere.”

The quill poked through the canvas and into the scene, slowly changing so it fit the art style that the painter used to bring the raven to life. He wasted no time snatching it out of her grip, giving an appreciative gargle before he took off, flying away into the grey sky.

She was in. A quick Alohomora charm opened the door, and Y/N made quick work of deactivating the jinxes that guarded the entrance and was happy to see that he hadn’t changed anything else with his security measures. Finding the potion was easy, and before she knew it, she had reset all the security charms, shut the door, and made her way all the way up to the Gryffindor tower with the vial tucked firmly in her pocket.

Getting Draco alone was the hardest part of her plan. Every time she saw him, he was either surrounded by a gaggle of Slytherins or darting off down side corridors that she could never quite locate. Carrying around the vial of stolen potion was getting increasingly stressful, too, especially now that their DADA class with Snape was coming up. He had to have noticed that his stores were broken into at that point, but given that he hadn’t stopped a meal yet to berate the student body on the importance of integrity and “keeping one’s grabby hands to themselves”, Y/N assumed she was somewhat in the clear. On the bright side, Y/N was enjoying mealtime much more now that she was eating with Luna. Her new friend even convinced her to go to the library with her one night to study--something that Y/N was not too familiar with.

They’d left right before the library closed, going their separate ways. Something crossed Y/N’s mind as she realized what day it was--Saturday. Draco always worked on the cabinet on Saturdays, and of course he wasn’t going to bring his friends along with him.

Quietly, she sank down next to the stone wall at the entrance, waiting for Draco to exit. She waited, and waited, and waited. Y/N was just beginning to wonder if Draco had switched his schedule around when the telltale sound of stone bricks scraping against each other snapped her to attention.

Draco looked more frazzled than usual as he stepped out of the newly-constructed entrance, his hands shakily running through his hair and his tie out of place. Y/N felt a sudden pang of guilt at the thought that she was going to add even more stress to his night.

“Draco,” she said, standing up and teetering at the sudden motion.

He started at the sight of her before setting his jaw and turning to continue a walk down in the opposite direction.

“Please,” breathed Y/N, jumping forward to latch onto his wrist. “I need to talk to you.”

He immediately snatched his hand away, his scowl deeping in his features. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, though sheer exhaustion seemed to replace the usual venom in his voice. “If you’re here to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.”

“But--”

“I don’t have time,” he repeated once again, desperation seeping into the edges of his tone. “I don’t have the time to figure out whether or not I can trust you again.”

“Then let me make it easier.” Y/N reached into her pocket, producing the potion vial that had miraculously not been shattered after she’d carried it for so long. Draco arched an eyebrow. “Run a diagnostic spell on it. I want you to know that I’m being completely honest.”

“Y/L/N, I told you, I don’t want--”

“Please, Draco,” she pleaded, holding it out to him. “Just do it for me. If you do it, we’ll be even for what happened in Myrtle’s bathroom. I’ll leave you alone if you tell me to.”

He sucked in a breath, begrudgingly casting the spell. The vial glowed and cast a bright emerald light on his surprised features. “How did you get that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” rushed Y/N. “Just ask me anything. I’ll take it if you want.”

He looked like he was about to leave her in the corridor alone, so she did the only thing she could think of--uncorking the vial and downing it all in one go. It went down like water, hardly feeling like anything. She was surprised. Wasn’t it supposed to feel more compelling?

“Y/N, you are such an idiot sometimes,” he growled, but he turned back to her anyway. “Okay. Fine. Did Granger put you up to talking to me?”

“No. Harry did,” answered Y/N, the words coming spilling out of her mouth without her even thinking. Draco’s briefly softened expression immediately hardened.

“I suppose that answers it then,” he snapped. “I’m not sure what that was supposed to accomplish.”

“Ask me something else!” cried Y/N. “Something you don’t already know the answer to.”

His silence was evidence enough that she was maybe, potentially, possibly getting to him. Something twanged in the pits of her stomach, reminding her of the time that she’d eaten bad fish in Greece and was sick for days, but she cast the thought aside for just a moment as he finally responded.

“This is ridiculous,” he clipped. She waited, turning the empty vial over in her hands. Finally, after a few agonizing moments of silence, his voice sounded again. “Why are your friends mad at you?”

Just as she was about to tell him, the tell-tale sound of footsteps and a cat’s meow echoed down the corridor. Filch. Panic-stricked, Y/N launched herself in the direction of the Room before a hand closed over her forearm and pulled her back.

“That’ll take too long,” Draco whispered, so close to her that she could feel his breath on her neck and had to try not to shudder. Without waiting for her response, he yanked her into the broom closet across the corridor and softly shut the door.

It became fairly apparent that the broom closet was perhaps not the best hiding space for two adults, a fact that Y/N quickly noticed as she realized that the only place she could comfortably place her hands was lightly on top of Draco’s chest. His own hands pressed into the wall on either side of her head as he used it to push himself as far away from her as possible. When her eyes flickered up, she could see in the dim light that he’d shut his eyes. She couldn’t blame him--when she ran the plan through in her head, it rarely ever included getting stuck in a tiny broom closet together, and it never crossed her mind that it could happen before he’d even forgiven her.

“I heard something too, my pretty.” Filch’s voice floated down the corridor as he neared them. She sucked in her breath, intent to hold it. She wished that she could cast a Silencio on the broom closet, but there was no way to be able to do that in such close range. Plus, she was quite preoccupied with the churning in her stomach that was getting significantly worse.

Filch’s steps were getting louder as he called out, “Anyone there?”

“Yes,” Y/N let as a tortured, strangled whine. Realization flickered across Draco’s face as his hand shot out to clamp over her lips. She tried not to focus on how warm and nice his skin felt touching her and instead on the fact that Filch was still walking.

The footsteps finally paused outside of the broom closet. Y/N could feel Draco’s heart racing under her palm. She vaguely registered that her hands had long since curled into fists, clinging onto his shirt.

“Anyone in here?”

“Mmph,” responded Y/N, hardly able to enunciate anything over the death grip Draco had on her face. This only made the lurching in her middle worse, so bad that she felt like she had bile rising in her throat.

“My lovely? What’s that?” A cat’s meow rang out from across the corridor. “Over by the Charms classroom?” Another meow. The sound of quick shuffling would’ve come to Y/N as a relief if she didn’t feel like she was about to puke the entire contents of her stomach up on Draco Malfoy’s hand.

“Thank Merlin.” Draco exhaled. Y/N could feel his shoulders relax under the grip she had on his shirt and took note of the fact that he smelled very strongly of that stupid rich scent in her Amortentia, something that was somewhat difficult when the cramping in her stomach had gotten so bad that she could hardly stand up straight.

Then he let his hand drop.

“They’re mad at me because I didn’t tell them about you.” The words came spilling out so fast and without prompt that Y/N felt like she was out of body, watching someone else speak for her. “I couldn’t ever bring myself to hurt you like that because even though you’ve been mean to me and my friends and I technically have no reason to want to protect you, I still do and it’s just so complicated because I thought I was just being a good person or whatever but honestly now that I think about it f it came down to it I would choose you over anyone else here and that’s scary and ohmygodIcan’tstop--” Y/N managed to suck in a small breath as the magic in her system propelled her forward, barely catching the widened eyes of Draco, “--It’s been so hard being away from you and I understand why you’re angry at me and I’m such a hypocrite for being upset that you were a Death Eater when I didn’t tell you why I started talking to you in the first place but I couldn’t just confess to you when I finally had a reason to spend time with you and I didn’t want to fuck it all up but I did and Draco please help I can’t stop I want to so badly you were never supposed to know all of this I thought that it would just make me tell the truth not everything--”

“I know,” His hand came up one more time, covering her mouth and muffling her voice. Without being able to move her lips, the words died down once again while the waves of nausea and agony hit in their place. Draco’s face had once again adopted that unreadable, somewhat sad expression as he moved his free hand so he could thumb away the tears that were collecting on her cheeks. Her fingers twisted into the soft fabric of his button down as she choked back a sob against his hand. “I know. That was really fucking stupid, even for you. You do know you’re not supposed to take more than an ounce of Veritaserum, right? This is going to take forever to get through your system. You just have to let it run its course. I’m sorry.” The potion was closing in around her throat as she blinked up at him through tear-ridden lashes. “I hear Filch escorting a student to McGonagall. This is our chance to get out.”

Y/N nodded as best as she could without loosening his hold on her, and they were creeping out of the broom closet and slowly making their way down the hall as silently as possible. He was to her right, his left arm slung around her shoulder so he could keep her quiet without sacrificing too much of his balance. He pulled her away from the direction of the Gryffindor dorms.

“Not happening,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing past her ear. He was so close. She shivered. “Filch went that way. Plus, I need to keep an eye on you until you’re back to normal.”

She nodded again. By some miracle, they made it to the Slytherin dorms without much of a hiccup beyond the awkward shuffle down the stairs. “Purity,” muttered Draco, prompting the cobblestones to rearrange themselves into a door. “Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Y/N scoffed behind his hand. The Slytherin common room was, thankfully, entirely empty, but very eerie and cold. She tried to open her mouth to tell him that he’d obviously drawn the short straw when it came to lodging, but when she felt his palm tighten over her lips, she was reminded that that wasn’t an option.

“Here we are,” murmured Draco, his voice still low and careful as he led her to the end of the hall of the boys’ dormitories. Something other than the effects of the Veritaserum she consumed set off the butterflies inside of her once again when she thought about the fact that she was really going to see Draco’s dorm room. His door, black and heavy, was completely unblemished apart from the silver numbers of his room.

Before she could think any further, he turned the knob and spun her so he was looking right down at her. “The less you talk, the longer it’s going to take for you to be normal again. Try not to be too loud, though. I wanted to sleep tonight.” With that, he released her once again.

“You have really nice hands,” she blurted out, immediately clapping her own palm over her mouth again.

“Oh.” An uncharacteristic blush rose in his cheeks.

Squeezing her eyes shut and steeling herself for whatever was about to come out of her mouth next, she let her hand fall. “I--I actually think I can control some of what I say now.” She took one more breath in to check. “Yeah. Thank god. It’s not just...coming out of me anymore.”

“I’m not too surprised,” he said. “You were on quite a roll back there in the broom closet.”

“So, um…” She shuffled her feet. “Are we good now, do you think?”

Draco sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone willingly down two state terrorist interrogation sessions worth of Veritaserum just to apologize to me. So, yeah, I guess. I think you should probably try and get some sleep. Chances are it’ll wear off some by tomorrow morning.” With that, he rested his hands on her shoulders and steered her towards his bed.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, sinking down onto his black silk bedding and meeting his eyes.

He shrugged. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything before you sleep?”

“I’d really like it if you held me until I fell asleep,” Y/N said so quickly that she didn’t even have a chance to look away from him. He blanched, his eyebrows raising but his lip quirking up.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought you were going to ask for water or something.”

“Draco, please don’t be mean,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to say it. It just came out. I would like some water, though.”

“Your wish is my command,” he drawled, disappearing into his bathroom before coming out with an empty glass that he cast a quick Aquamenti into. “Go slow. I really don’t want you coughing up water on my sheets.”

“Me neither,” she said between sips. “Merlin knows I’ve embarrassed myself enough already.”

When she finished, she handed it out to him. “Thank you. I really appreciate you doing this. I mean it.”

He snorted on his way to put the glass away. “Of course you do. That’s the beauty of Veritaserum.”

“You’re actually funny sometimes, you know,” she said.

Draco smirked at her again. “Veritaserum. You’re doing wonders for my ego tonight.”

While he was doing whatever he was before getting into bed, Y/N went ahead and slipped under the sheets, rolling over onto her back so she was closest to the wall. She felt the bed slightly dip to her left and a throat clear.

“What is it now?” muttered Y/N.

“You know, it’s really hard for me to do what you asked when you’re on your back like that,” he said.

“What?”

“Like, do you want me to be on top of you or something?”

“What are you even talking about?”

Draco huffed and reached his hands out to grab her shoulders once again, turning her to face him. Before she could register what was happening, she felt his own hands come around under her arms to rest on her back. Her head lay on the swath of skin between his shoulder and his collarbone, and she could feel the quickening of his pulse. “There. Honestly.”

“This is really nice,” Y/N blurted out, physically cringing when she realized that in her position she couldn’t easily cover her mouth.

“Yeah?” She could feel the laugh rattle through his diaphragm.

“Yes.” Y/N huffed. “Stop asking me questions. This isn’t very kind of you.”

He let out another light laugh, his fingers moving to thread through her hair. “Is this okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve wanted--” Y/N buried her face into his shoulder, silencing the words that were about to come out of her mouth. “Oh, my god,” she said after she resurfaced. “I think I want to take a vow of silence after this is over.”

Y/N could hear his smile as he offered her a, “What a load of good that thought is doing you now.”

“Please, just knock me unconscious until it all goes away,” she groaned.

“Stop demeaning my work,” he said, mock offense creeping into his tone as he continued to card his fingers through her hair in soothing motions. “What do you think I’m trying to do? If you want me to give you blunt force head trauma, then just say so. Sheesh.”

She sighed dramatically. “At this point, maybe.”

“Seriously, though, are you feeling okay? That was a lot of Veritaserum,” he murmured.

“I’m just feeling mortified right now,” she answered.

“You still need to tell me where you got it.”

“Oh. I stole it. From Snape.”

All at once, Draco dropped his hands and pulled slightly away so he could gape down at her. “You did what now?”

“Yeah,” she said, confusion creeping into her tone. “It really wasn’t that hard, you know. I’ve done it before.”

“When?”

She felt another lurching sensation. All of the questioning was starting to make her stomach turn again. “I was a second-year. Harry had to brew Polyjuice Potion and he needed an ingredient we couldn’t find anywhere else.”

Draco let out a low whistle. “At twelve?”

“Eleven. My birthday hadn’t come around yet.”

“That’s…” He’d shifted so she wasn’t pressed up to him, catching his lip between his teeth as he thought. Y/N hadn’t made much notice of this development as the growing pain in her midsection grew. “That’s quite a lot for a kid.” The way his hair glowed in the soft moonlight made her heart twinge. It looked so soft. Y/N noticed that she’d been staring at him for far too long without saying something when he blinked, planning on opening her mouth to apologize or crack a joke when instead:

“I have the biggest crush on you.” The words left her lips without any prior consent, the consonants and vowels forming before she could even think.

He was completely frozen in place, his expression entirely unreadable.

“Oh, god, and now I’ve ruined it all because I know you said that I didn’t have a chance that one time in detention and you don’t see me like that and I’m pretty sure you’re with Pansy and even if you weren’t I’m not enough for you and I wish I hadn’t taken this stupid potion but I know that I’d do it a hundred times over if it meant that you would trust me--”

Her words stopped abruptly as Draco silenced her--not with his hand, but by placing his lips on hers. The kiss was brief and shy, more of a question in nature than a statement. Her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt as he pulled away, a rather frazzled and deer-in-the-headlights look etched into his features.

She was speechless. Absolutely, completely, irrevocably speechless. Despite the insistent gnawing of the Veritaserum at the lining of her stomach, she could only manage to blink owlishly up at him, mouth agape.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low.

“Ehm…” Her lips refused to move. Draco frowned, dropping his hands from her sides and sitting up straighter. Something impartial washed over his features, turning his expression from hurt to uninterested, like he’d woken up from a pleasant nap and was snapped back to reality. His legs pulled away so no part of her body was touching him.

“I--er, didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I just wanted to make you quiet again, y’know, before you said anything else you regretted. And I thought that...kissing you would shock your system enough to make you stop talking.”

Her cheeks turned a violent red as she realized the depth of his statement. “So you...don’t see me like that?”

“No.” He ran his fingers through his hair once, took in a deep breath, and dropped his gaze to the comforter. “You should go to sleep. Hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning.”

At the very least the potion was beginning to settle in her stomach as Draco’s breathing turned slow over the next hour or so. She didn’t know all too much about the mechanics of Veritaserum, but at this point, she had almost nothing left to confess anyways.

Y/N tore her eyes away from his sleeping form, turning around to face the wall. His bed was soft. And it smelled like him, like the perfect blend of black tea and sage and snobbery that was in her Amortentia. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished to be anywhere but there. When he kissed her, it felt like he wanted her. Yes, of course he was timid, but she’d thought he was just nervous. But what was there for him to be nervous about? She’d already confessed under literal truth serum. He knew how she felt, and he didn’t even say sorry for kissing her and telling her he didn’t mean it like that. He still didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t when Pansy Parkinson in all her obnoxious Slytherin perfection was right fucking there.

She was just beginning to feel sleep tug on the strings of her consciousness as she felt her hair get tucked behind her ear by a warm hand coming around from behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s better this way, you’ll see. It wouldn’t be fair if I...if it was different.” Despite his words, he let his fingers brush over his jaw as he moved closer, his shoulder lightly pressing into her back.

At that moment, there were so many things that Y/N wanted to say, ranging from “I am never going to live this moment down because I’m positively lovesick over you” to “I am going to beat you up for kissing me and then telling me it didn’t mean anything after I confessed.” Two schools of thought, neither of them perfectly encapsulating the true essence of her feelings. Her most traitorous thoughts told her to stay still and enjoy the final moments of affection she’d get from Draco, but she’d given into impulse a little too much that night.

He must’ve noticed that her breathing had changed because he suddenly shifted his weight onto his free arm, keeping his hand poised by her neck.

“Please stop touching me.” The words that came out of her mouth sounded much more pathetic than they did in her head, a voice crack finding its way into the final syllables. He jolted away.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“I thought…” He swallowed. “I thought you liked it when I touched you.”

“Yeah, before you told me you didn’t feel the same way,” she mumbled. “I really would appreciate it if you didn’t make me rehash that again. Today has been humiliating enough. I’m not looking to set a record or something here.”

She’d thought that her quip was pretty good, but Draco remained completely humorless. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. It was stupid of me to act on impulse like that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Never meant to--” She stopped in her tracks, instead letting out a sharp huff. “Nevermind. I don’t want a fight right now. I just want to sleep.”

Much to Y/N’s horror, her throat began to tighten up again with the tell-tale coming of tears. The next breath she exhaled was embarrassingly shaky and loud, and the movement that it sparked in Draco was even more mortifying. He made a small sound of sympathy. “C’mere, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I know that must’ve hurt you.”

Undecided between feeling pissed and just wanting to forgive him, she slowly sat up and faced him. His arms were out in a motion of invitation, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.” The Veritaserum in her system didn’t care much about her emotional turmoil, much to her horror. Y/N began to turn away, a watery scowl fixed firmly on her face, but Draco’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“If I...wanted to be with you,” he began, his tone careful and clipped, “It would never work. Okay? Trust me when I say it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong.”

“I kind of did.”

“Yeah, well, we both did. But I don’t want you to think that I, er, never thought about it.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t quite sure what the underlying meaning of that was.

“So... “ He motioned again with open arms. “Do you...want to? I’ll play with your hair again until you fall asleep.”

Y/N stared at him, completely astonished. “Why? If you don’t see me like that, then why?”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight anyways,” he said softly. “And I want to help you feel better.”

She opened her mouth with the hopes of a biting retort coming out, but instead she was met with silence. Against her better judgement, she set her clenched her jaw and gave in.

His arms were wrapped around her in an instant as she tentatively settled back into his chest, her hands lightly rested on his shoulders. Despite the humiliating previous events, it didn’t feel awkward, especially when Draco’s long fingers slowly threaded through her locks and brushed past her neck. A small, forbidden sigh of contentment left her lips when he let his touch linger over the back of her neck. His deep, slow breathing and the steady beat of his heart began to lull her to sleep.

The next morning, she was able to lie convincingly enough to Draco, telling him her name wasn’t Y/N Y/L/N and that she was 80 years old. Confident that she wasn’t about to spill all of his secrets to the student body, he told her she was free to go.

“Draco?” she asked poised by his door.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’ll see you much after this? You know, now that we aren’t Potions partners and don’t have detention together anymore?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe when this is all over, I’ll see you around at pureblood functions or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tried not to think about the implications of pureblood functions still existing in the future after this. What kind of world did Draco think this would turn into? “But this is probably it, right? The last time I’ll see you like this?”

She didn’t even need to see his nod. She knew. That’s why he offered to play with her hair despite not even liking her--it was his way of apologizing for roping her into this, for tricking her, for shutting her out, for the Sectumsempra curse...for everything. His way of apologizing before they parted ways.

final a/n: ty for reading! first off, congrats to the anons that guessed veritaserum. that shit took me forever to write bc i had such high expectations but it turned out to be quite the challenging scene since i still had to juggle draco’s conflicting emotions/distrust and the fact that i really wanted him to make her feel better fjdkas; i thought i’d mention someone who helped me write this (even tho i don’t think they realized how much they helped lmao)L i’d like to thank my 🌟 anon for giving me some inspiration. i was struggling with the first half of this story in terms of pacing for quite some time but found some help in an ask they sent me mentioning how they related to y/n feeling lonely/would like to see luna and neville mentioned. unfortunately, i haven’t quite been able to fit neville in yet (and i’m not sure if i can without it seeming just like a random extra bit of story that isn’t helpful to the plot), but hearing some affirmation that y/n’s loneliness was something that actually resonated w them really helped. it made me realize that the isolation from her friends/draco didn’t have to just be a logical turn of events for the plot to proceed in a sensical way and instead could be used to explore y/n’s character. i hope you all enjoyed! i promise the stuff w her dad and the order will be cleared up next chapter

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you

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bubblegumbeech · 3 years

Text

Time Just out of Reach

Prompt fill for @sailor-toni and @ghostlyhabato

Pssst hey, hey you. Ship this with me.

He didn’t have his crown when he awoke. It was the first thing he noticed, and it had confused him as he blinked back flashes of fighting, desperate and vicious as cloaked figures, all too familiar yet made strange and unknown, locked him away. Relying on ancient magics and powerful spells, the traitors had been unable to defeat him properly, as warriors, and Pariah curled his lip at the memory.

But he’d still had his crown then and it took him a moment, having stormed away from the accursed coffin and it’s nauseating sleep, before he remembered the first time he’d awoken. There had been a child, incredibly powerful and with the kind of support Pariah hadn’t had since the peak of his reign’s popularity. He’d been the one to defeat him in the end, alone, in a battle that no ghost could say was anything but fair.

It settled something in him, almost. It was frustrating, naturally, to be defeated by a child. But in the Infinite Realms such things were rarely as they seemed, and it was unlikely that despite everything the one who had defeated him was truly as young as he looked. And he had defeated Pariah, unlike those before, in a proper fight.

The loss of his crown was only a natural progression of such, and while Pariah knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he would have reacted differently had he awoken earlier in his sleep, or even with the crown still atop his head, it was clear there was little to do either way. His ring was gone as well and there would be no commanding of armies this or any day.

Instead, he decided to work on himself. To stretch out half formed and aching muscles from their prolonged and unnatural sleep and to walk once more throughout his own keep.

There was much to be done, frankly, the castle itself had fallen into a horrible state of disrepair, and the grounds had become entirely overrun with all kinds of ghostly and dangerous plants.

Once, just to see what would happen, Pariah had tried calling upon his skeletal army, but no matter how much power he pulled into the spell or how much he strained his core to its limits, the ground slept beneath him. It was almost freeing, knowing there was nothing to be done but to work and ready himself.

He spent the mornings getting reacquainted with his form and its abilities. The ectoplasm of the zone felt cleaner than he remembered it, and it helped energize him. It wasn’t long before he slipped easily back into his previous exercise routines and the strain was pleasant after so long sealed away.

There was so much he missed, in the little things. Taking the time to prune and shape the weeds and vines around his grounds helped him to feel accomplished, like he was finally doing something after so long doing nothing. So much so, that going into his castle, using the energy he had to restructure and rebuild where it had started to decay and fall apart, felt worthwhile.

It was nice, learning how to exist all over again. Without the need for conquest or dominion, there was a focus on the mundane and simple. Pariah had hardly remembered what that was like. If he had ever known at all.

The feelings and moments of quiet, by himself in his own keep brought back memories. Memories of certain people, certain events, things he’d lost long before. But like everything else that caused pain or bitterness to build back up within him, he pushed it aside and got to work, releasing the feelings out into the realms and focusing instead on what was before him, what he could touch with his own two hands.

One day, as he was carving a particularly sturdy vine into a new possible weapon design, he was interrupted. Rather rudely in fact, by someone who thought it somehow acceptable to storm into his keep.

Fortunately for the ghost, Pariah’s isolation had gifted him an unusual amount of patience and he’d let it live, if barely.

That had, naturally, been a mistake.

It turned out that ghost was only the first of many, many, ghosts that thought to challenge the great Pariah Dark for his title and crown. A title and crown, Pariah thought with no small amount of annoyance, that he’d already lost.

The ghosts were rare and few between at first, a momentary interruption in the mundane rebuilding that had become Pariah’s world. As such, he took those moments to remind himself what it was like to spar again, his core humming in his chest at every cross of blades, seeking challenge.

Rarely though, did the ghosts that had the blind courage to attack him, Pariah Dark, the first and only High King of the Infinite Realms, also have the strength to back up their bravado. So he’d held back.

Another mistake.

It led to some of the more foolhardy ghosts returning to challenge him again, barely any stronger than they’d been when they first attacked. It was pathetic truly, to be so constantly accosted by those so clearly weaker than him. Then again, someone strong enough to match his strength would know better than to challenge him, would know better than to want that crown on their head.

Pariah sighed, he was expecting the dragonling to arrive at any minute now. She was excitable and easily riled in a fight and Pariah had been using it against her in an attempt to desensitize her for a true battle. Soon, he’d move on to teaching her how to block more quickly and then how to use her powerful transformation abilities more smoothly in combat. It was a beginner’s mistake to think that the larger you are the greater your advantage at all times.

After he defeated her he’d have enough time, he thought, to start exploring the far tower. He’d been avoiding it so far, the memories present in that place were strong and could be overpowering, but there was only so much more work he could do on the rest of the castle while leaving it untouched as it was. Pariah disliked leaving a job undone, it itched under his skin, grating.

“Behold Pariah Dark! I have come once more in my eternal quest to defeat you!” ah, there she was. He unsheathed his sword, it was time to see how much she had retained from their last bout.

Pariah was cleaning the tower, starting with the bottom and working his way up. Not avoiding anything, just… prolonging the moment where he would reach that room. The one that held enough memories to start a flood, dammed only by Pariah’s firm refusal to open the door just yet.

He should have known that wouldn’t work.

“It seems out of character for you,” said an achingly familiar voice from just behind him. Pariah didn’t turn around, he didn’t know what he’d do if he met those eyes, and he couldn’t risk it. Not against this fragile peace that had formed in the time outside of his coffin, as short in comparison as it was.

“You sent them to me didn’t you?” Pariah realized, pulled a particularly stubborn purple weed that had been growing through the cracks of the elegantly carved stone that made up the inner walls of the room. “This is another one of your schemes.”

It had been some time since they had last spoken and longer still since they had done so with no swords or weapons between them, and Pariah refused to allow it to affect him. He’d felt the burn already that came from trusting that voice. It was better, certainly, to keep the door locked.

“What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” his uninvited guest said. His voice was closer and Pariah flinched, quickly turning around only to see him there at the door, Clockwork.

He was, unfortunately, still achingly beautiful. His features fine and chiseled, though his hair was hidden entirely by his hood, a practice he’d kept up after one too many comments about his unnecessarily alluring appearance. Many times he’d contemplated simply cutting his hair or doing something else equally horrid, but every time Pariah had talked him out of it, mumbling soft compliments as he combed through it in the mornings or tangled his hands into it at night.

Had he cut it then? Since Pariah was locked away?

Since he locked Pariah away?

“It’s always one of your schemes” Pariah hissed. He walked deeper into the tower to get away, but it was useless. Clockwork simply glided along behind him, not acting at all like the bitter enemies they were, “you conniving, backstabbing pawn of those who watch and never act.”

Clockwork rolled his eyes, they were red. When had they become red? They used to be a deep purple, soft and mischievous and full of knowledge that even Pariah would never hope to match. Pariah had thought, once, that they were equals. He wondered now, if Clockwork had ever thought the same.

“I am simply visiting an old friend, surely my leash is long enough for that?”

His leash. So it was true then, Clockwork had been tied to the Observants’ will, just as the rumors suggested. It explained, Pariah supposed, why he had not been there when he had woken up before. “Is that what I am then? An old friend?”

Clockwork took mercy on him and shifted forms into his older self. His eyes were just as sharp, just as keen, but the urge to touch, to take for himself, lessoned as he watched muscles deteriorate and a beard grow long and knotted from the other ghost’s chin. “How would you describe it then, Pariah? Enemies?” Clockwork chuckled, “no, of course that’s how you would describe it.”

Heart of the Realms he needed to get away, there was too much between them and the small moments of interaction he’d had sparring with random ghosts or seeking out current knowledge of the realms were hardly enough practice to deal with someone like Clockwork.

But he didn’t stop following Pariah further into the tower and the familiarity of walking these halls, Clockwork at his side, was enough to force him into a stop. Why was he here? Just to make Pariah miserable? That seemed something he would do, conniving as he was.

“It’s rude, you know, to enter a ghost’s lair uninvited,” he tried.

Clockwork smiled, tilting his head in the way that meant he was being obnoxious on purpose. Pariah had, foolishly, assumed it would not be the kind of thing ever aimed at him. How bitter, to be proven wrong in such a way.

“I was under the impression that I had a standing invitation,” because he had. Because if anyone, Pariah had trusted this bastard the most and had not wanted even a day separated from his side.

“I am not the one who betrayed his King.”

The time around them stilled, the realms silent in their entirety for just a moment. Clockwork’s expression was sheltered when Pariah had turned to look at him and he smiled bitterly, “The realms were never meant to be tamed Pariah. Not even by you.”

A familiar argument, one they’d had countless times, one that Pariah had thought unimportant in the scheme of things. He’d thought at the time, that if he could get the entirety of the realms under his control, infinite and expanding as they were, he could make Clockwork understand. It was his duty, it had been entrusted to Pariah. Just as the time stream had been entrusted to Clockwork.

He should have known better really.

“Then I rescind your invitation, you can leave now.”

Clockwork bowed, deep, formal, and it made Pariah grit his teeth. He’d never bowed to anyone but those pathetic eyeballs and Pariah knew what it truly meant to receive formalities from an Ancient. “Then I shall take my leave.”

Finally. Pariah refused to watch him go, and instead turned back to the walls he’d been so studiously clearing of their overgrowth before he’d been interrupted.

The weeds had returned, covering every single inch of the room, just as they had before Pariah started clearing them away almost a week prior. Damn him.

Pariah had finished the entirety of the tower’s first floor when he had returned, entirely unwelcome. “I don’t recall inviting you in,” he said, focusing on his work. He was restitching a cloth that had once been beautifully embroidered. Pariah’s own hands were hardly any good for delicate details but he made do through endless trial and error. He had all the time in the realms afterall, and it was in his nature to complete a task in its entirety.

“No?” Clockwork said, his voice dry and purposefully pitched to piss him off, “so you don’t have an open door policy? You seem to have so many ghosts that come and go.”

He scowled, “they are fools, young and easily excited. They hope to defeat me and earn the crown for themselves. I am simply teaching them the error of their ways.” This stitch was particularly difficult, and in order to do it properly he’d need to focus. Something unlikely to happen with his current guest.

There was something uncertain in the ambient ectoplasm around them. A gentle wave gliding back and forth between a tentative hope and a deeper, darker mistrust. Pariah ignored it. There was no reason he should be so intune with another ghost’s moods, especially not this ghost.

Unlike Pariah, who wanted this conversation finished and to be left once more to his peace, Clockwork was an instigator, clearly here only to frustrate. He floated closer, just out of reach, “teaching them? It’s been some time since you bothered to take an apprentice.”

Pariah set down his work and stood up properly, Clockwork had shifted into an adult form since showing up and the mischievous tilt of his lips left Pariah frustrated and frazzled. There was no reason for him to be here, except to torture with his presence, precise and devastating.

“They aren’t apprentices, you of all ghosts should know better than to think I would ever be so patient as to take someone under me.” as King, he‘d always been too busy, too easily frustrated, too stressed. Clockwork had been there, the nights where Pariah had wished he could give it all up, had spoken in whispers about what could have been if only he’d refused the crown.

Clockwork smiled, a show of his fangs, and Pariah clenched his fist to stop from reaching out. If he tried, he could close the distance between them quick enough to pull Clockwork towards him entirely. Perhaps he’d end this game if Pariah called his bluff. Pariah wondered how many futures he saw, where Pariah did just that. He wondered how confident he was that those futures would not be his own.

“I just thought to inform you,” his smile only stretched wider and Pariah wondered what had him so delighted, for surely it meant nothing good, “that I have taken on an apprentice myself.”

That had not been what Pariah expected at all. Clockwork was rarely around children or younger ghosts in the time Pariah had known him, and while many of the more powerful inhabitants of the zone spoke often of their desire for children, he had not heard such from Clockwork in the times they had known each other.

Was that simply another truth that had been hidden from him, was the ghost he’d known nothing more than a lie, perfectly catered to Pariah’s own desires in order to trick and to trap him?

He looked over at his unwanted guest, unease threaded through his core. The mischievous smile had yet to fall and as much as Pariah wanted to bite it, he turned away instead, “are you hoping for us to meet? I should think you wouldn’t be so foolish to bring someone you care for anywhere near me.”

“Not at all,” Clockwork answered easily, floating closer once more, “besides, you’ve already met.”

Already met? Surely Clockwork wouldn’t have taken one of the foolish, eager ghosts that thought to challenge him in his time awake as an apprentice. They were hardly suited towards him and his subtle manipulations.

But he hadn’t met anyone else since waking, few ghosts that remembered his reign wished to meet with him, and there was little reason for someone that had caught Clockwork’s discerning eye to seek out a failed king. Unless he had come to spy on him? No, there was little Clockwork did not know, and even less that he could not simply discover for himself using those accursed mirrors.

Clockwork tilted his head, a mischievous smile still in place, “you don’t want to know his name?”

So it was a him, that narrowed it down marginally, “I wouldn’t know it either way.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t have known the name of the ghost that defeated you, too busy getting stuffed into that coffin of yours.”

Pariah reached out, a blast built in his palm, to attack. But Clockwork, as always, had expected it and floated easily out of his reach, dodging the ectoblasts Pariah released after him as he fled the keep.

Good riddance.

The next visit, Pariah had been the first to speak, “where is my crown?” he asked.

Clockwork had shifted into his older form and gently stroked his beard, pretending to think about the question Pariah had asked. As if he didn’t know the answer, as if he didn’t know everything.

“Would you really like to know?” He didn’t. Not truly, but he had wondered, if he asked, what Clockwork would say. He should have known it would be something cryptic and aloof. He’d never once bothered with straight answers before, it was unlikely he’d start now.

Pariah walked over to him, his steps steady and measured. He stopped just out of reach, as Clockwork had been doing to him in their visits and wondered, fleetingly, if it affected him at all. Surely not, as aloof as he’d been. If he felt as tortured by Pariah’s presence as Pariah felt by his, there would be no need for these games. They would simply avoid each other and that would be that.

He grabbed a book from a nearby shelf, they were in his study, private as it once was, and Pariah had been reading with the intention of catching up on the things he missed. Such as Clockwork’s new ward, the Half-ghost child that had been dead hardly a year before defeating Pariah.

“Does your ward have it? Has he been claimed king? If so I’ll be sure to tell the fools that still visit to go after him instead.”

Humming, Clockwork floated over to Pariah’s desk. It was freshly carved, intricate designs by Pariah’s own hand. “There are some that do so already, but no, Daniel doesn’t have your crown Pariah. No one does.”

So there is no king.

“I see,” he said, opening his book to a random page and feigning interest. It was difficult, to be sure, when the most interesting thing in the whole of the infinite realms was here, sitting on Pariah’s desk. “You haven’t gotten any better at answering questions.”

Clockwork laughed.

And Pariah left the room.

The next time Clockwork came to visit, it was just after a spar he’d had with one of his regular guests. It had been an improvement on her part, her control of her natural abilities was getting better and she had actually attempted to use technique instead of her admittedly limited brute strength.

But it had also been one sided, as all these matches were, and Pariah found himself itching for something more exciting. For a fight worth the effort of keeping his core lit.

“Your teaching methods could use some work,” Clockwork had said, his voice smooth with an echoing touch of gravel, as he leaned over Pariah’s shoulder to see the weapon he was sharpening.

Pariah almost knocked him away, but as always, Clockwork was a moment ahead. Somewhere in the future. Never truly there, where Pariah was, always waiting instead where he would be. He growled.

“Then it is for the best I was not teaching.”

Clockwork smiled, “my mistake.”

There was little doubt in Pariah’s mind that Clockwork had never made anything as simple as a mistake. There was too much that he knew, too much he could see. The decisions he made might not always lead to exactly what he wanted, his obsession unwilling to compromise the free will of others, but Pariah had no doubt that each and every one was perfectly calculated to the smallest minute detail. Mistakes were off the table.

He grabbed the weapon he’d been working and felt the weight and balance of it in his hand. His core, fresh from an unsatisfactory fight just moments before, hummed with energy.

It would, Pariah mused, be enjoyable to catch Clockwork in a fight. But it was not something he did lightly, his powers, as grand as they were, were rarely suited for battle, and Pariah found himself wondering if he attacked now, would Clockwork fight back? Or simply stop time and flee, coward that he was.

“The scar suits you,” Pariah said, stepping closer. Clockwork didn’t back away, but his expression twisted into something cruel. Pariah didn’t think about how well suited his features were for it, didn’t think about other expressions Clockwork might make and how Pariah had once made it his mission to see every single one.

“Admiring your handiwork?” he said, his tone brittle and biting.

Pariah was within an arm’s length now, “I had aimed for them both. I suppose it’s fortunate that I failed, seeing that you gave as well as you received.”

There was a tense silence and Pariah felt it almost like a physical barrier built between them. If he lifted his sword now, would it shatter?

“I like to think I gave much better,” he said, nodding at Pariah’s eyepatch, “seeing as out of the two of us, I succeeded.”

He lunged, but by the time the blade struck the ground, Clockwork had long disappeared.

“Sever yourself from the observants,” Pariah demanded once he’d seen Clockwork again.

There was a beat, a moment of time, and then Clockwork sighed, “and what, put myself into your less than merciful hands?”

He was in his youngest form, by all rights he should look vulnerable, weak, but he only looked tired. An expression Pariah had grown all to familiar with in the twilight of their relationship. Pariah scoffed, “better I than those useless snakes, they know not what they have. I’ve heard what they call you now, pet, attack dog. It’s demeaning.”

Clockwork looked up at him, his eyes deep and endless, “you are no longer a king Pariah. You hold no sway over the realms any longer.”

Said as if it were a gift, a token granted to him for his service. Then again, in the eyes of one such as him, it may very well be. Clockwork had always been bound in core and form by the duties required of him.

“What hold do they have over you?” He asks, in need of an answer. Of something. Why would someone so powerful, so immeasurable, bend to the yolk of another? Especially those slimy optical wastes of ectoplasm.

But he wouldn’t get an answer, not from Clockwork, and they both knew it. “The realms exist as chaos, those who seek to find order, or try and force their will upon it seek to destroy chaos. Everything that exists, exists with a sense of its own self preservation.”

Yeah, in no way was that an answer, and judging by the soft smile on Clockwork’s youthful face, he knew it too. “Yet you ally yourself with those things?”

Clockwork hummed, “everything is the way it’s supposed to be.”

Because of course it was.

“If you take a picture it will last longer,” Clockwork said nonsensically.

Frustratingly, he was here, again, in Pariah’s keep, his personal lair, floating just an arm’s length away from him. Out of reach. “Is that supposed to make sense?” Pariah growls.

But Clockwork remained aloof, “you’re staring.”

Of course he was. Clockwork was in his adult form, all well-formed muscle and casual strength, soft skin blemished only by the scar Pariah had given him that fateful night. The claim he had carved.

“I’m admiring my handiwork as you said.”

Clockwork tensed, “are you now? Looking to repeat the performance?”

He had been reading a book. Just, casually there, near Pariah in his own lair, reading a book. As if he owned the place himself, as if it were his. As if he were welcome here, to sit there carefree and out. of. reach.

“Perhaps, if you wish to spend all of your time in my keep, I can leash you here.” he said, taking a page from Clockwork’s own book and ignoring the question. He stepped closer.

Clockwork floated away, casual as ever, infuriating as ever. “I’m afraid I do have duties to attend, outside of babysitting you.”

“Is that what this is then?” Pariah growled, “your new masters sent you here to keep an eye on me? To make sure I am truly beaten, unwilling to rise again?”

“Something like that,” Clockwork drawled, “are you, Pariah?”

He crossed his arms, “Beaten? Am I not?”

Clockwork frowned, Pariah wanted to grab him by the chin, tilt his head up towards him and pull that infuriating hood away so he could no longer use it to avoid Pariah’s gaze. He held himself back, the other ghost was too far out of Pariah‘s grasp for now. Reaching for him too soon would only cause him to float away.

“You exist still,” he said, ignoring Pariah’s scoff, “you exist. Is that not what matters?”

Yes, he existed. He spent his days sparring with ghosts too weak to give him proper challenge, fixing a crumbling castle one single brick at a time, and waiting, with unwanted anticipation, to see if the ghost that had taken it all from him would bother to visit.

“And what a glorious existence indeed,” he spat.

Clockwork was a child again, floating around and above Pariah’s head. He’d asked him once, if the changes were voluntary or natural, and Clockwork, true to himself as he ever was, had given a vague answer that hadn’t actually answered the question at all.

“How is your ward?” Pariah asked, his eyes never leaving Clockwork as he circled above him.

He hummed and gave a noncommittal answer, likely unwilling to speak too much about the young phantom, unwilling to place him in the line of Pariah’s sight. It was an unnecessary caution, Pariah held no interest in the boy outside of his relationship with the Ancient.

The crown held little interest either, with how much Pariah had lost to keep it the first time.

“I’m sure your new masters are thrilled you have taken in such a powerful ward,” he had meant it with mostly dry sarcasm. It was clear, in all the actions of the observants before, that they disliked things that were different, things that didn’t fit neatly in their pathetically limited labels.

He hadn’t expected Clockwork to growl as if it were a threat. It caught him off guard. He'd known Clockwork was hardly loyal. It was, if anything, the most predictable aspect of who he was. A being created in chaos was not going to ally itself to any one doctrine for long, and especially not to the doctrine of another.

It was why, Pariah thought, the observants kept him chained so thoroughly with responsibilities and rules, unable to go against what they demanded and busy with pointless, petty tasks. Had he been wrong?

“He is my responsibility,” Clockwork scowled, aging into an adult, “as he is meant to be.”

So they didn’t know. It was likely, knowing Clockwork and his propensity for twisting language to his advantage, that they had said something threatening or demeaning towards either Clockwork or the boy and he had simply taken it to mean what he’d like.

It also meant that it was something he was keeping hidden from them. An advantage, Pariah thinks, that a better man would refuse to take advantage of. But Pariah was no king anymore, there was no proper way to get what he wanted, no code of honor and chivalry. And what he wanted, was kept tantalizingly out of his reach.

Why shouldn’t he grab what he could, to pull it closer to him?

Pariah had not slept since he awakened the second time from his slumber. The idea, while once a pleasant excuse to ignore his responsibilities for the sake of rest, was no longer appealing to say the least. He would not admit, even to himself, the fear that crept upon him at the thought.

He was not scared to sleep, he did not lie awake, staring at the swirling mist and ectoplasm of the realms around him in fear that if he closed his eyes they may never open again.

“You should sleep Pariah.”

“Clockwork,” he greeted, not bothering to stand, “you of all people do not get to tell me that.”

There was a soft shuffle of fabric and Pariah felt the subtle change in the ambient ectoplasm of the zone as Clockwork sat beside him on the ground of his once grand courtyard. It had taken some time, but Pariah had managed to tame the plants and vines that had claimed the land for their own.

In his impatience he had sheared more than was perhaps necessary, leaving much of the ground barren and lifeless entirely. There was nothing to be done, but to keep the plants tamed and wait for the rest to grow again.

“It was supposed to be the merciful option,” Clockwork lied, “You always liked to sleep in, if I remember correctly.”

Pariah refused to look up at him, he didn’t know what he would do, should he see him, softly glowing and silhouetted against the sky, close enough to touch, and he was unwilling to test his own resolve. “I had a reason to stay in bed then, if I recall correctly myself.”

Clockwork didn’t rise to his bait, “if we had planned instead, to take your core… we would have failed. You would have won and gone forth to take more of the realms as your own.”

Because of course he would have, fresh from Clockwork and the other Ancients’ betrayals. He would have been angry, vindictive, the scar he had now would have been nothing in comparison to what Pariah would have done in retaliation for such betrayal from those he’d trusted so thoroughly.

“You would have lost your resolve. And without it, the others would have fallen to my blade.”

Clockwork didn’t answer, of course. But he didn’t need to. One didn’t need the ability to look into the branching paths of the future in order to know someone else well enough to predict. And Pariah felt the truth in his words hit as Clockwork hesitated.

Without thinking, Pariah reached towards him. His hand had gotten almost close enough to grab the edge of that damned cloak before Clockwork was once more out of his grasp.

The weeds around him had grown back, his work entirely undone. Petty bastard.

“Fright has yet to bother me as you do.”

Clockwork floated towards him, grabbed the book from his hand and floated away. Pariah didn’t resist, any hope of actually reading had fled at the other’s sudden appearance.

He hummed, flipping carefully through the book. It was on gardening, Pariah had read through to the section on encouraging natural growth, methodical as always in any task he undertook. “You can hardly blame him, with the pumpkin and all.”

Pariah scowled, “he can’t still be trapped by that.” It was rare, quite frankly, for his royal knight to be trapped for long at all in that thing.

There was always some foolish ghost or other entity that wanted to test their courage, and it only took one before Fright would be freed to roam the realms under his own power. The sorcerer that bound him in the first place had learned that lesson quickly and was now spending their time trapped in a tailor made dimension of their own.

“He’s not.” Clockwork answered easily, then he paused, mused something over, and said, “he’s been training with Daniel. But he won’t come see you after your last time awake, not after what he and Vladimir did to trick you.”

That was a new name, “Vladimir?” Pariah asked, voice deceptively soft, “am I supposed to know who that is?”

“You are,” Clockwork smiled, never a good sign, “he was the one who woke you up after all.”

Frowning, Pariah walked over to grab his book back, Clockwork let go of it easily, not having read a single passage and for some reason this frustrated Pariah further. Why grab the book at all if he wasn’t going to even pretend to read the damn thing?

“I suppose you were behind that as well then?” He asked.

But Clockwork just shook his head, that infuriating smile still on his face. Pariah could have fixed that once, wiped that damn smirk away with naught but a touch or a well spoken word. He held his ground instead.

He was clearly enjoying this somehow, basking in Pariah’s torment, “not every aspect of your existence is meticulously planned I’ll have you know.”

“I’m sure,” Pariah said dryly, “there’s many decisions I’ve made in my time that have led you in unplanned directions.”

“As was your goal,” Clockwork floated back, away from Pariah. He stepped closer in response, unwilling to allow the distance.

Pariah forced his posture to relax, it wouldn’t do to look the part of predator stalking prey. The goal, after all, was not to scare him away. And Clockwork had always been skittish, in moments like this.

It had taken time, in the beginning, to get as close as he had. It would take time again.

He had all the time in the realms.

“It gave me great pleasure to see you flustered,” he was almost within reach, almost close enough to touch.

Clockwork’s back pressed against the wall, Pariah stepped forward, caging him in. “Surely there were easier ways to seek your joy.”

Humming, Pariah stepped even closer, naught but a moment between them. “When has a challenge been anything but enticing to me?” He reached up to finally pull away the horrid hood that had been obscuring the other’s face, but his hands closed around empty nothing.

Clockwork had once again slipped through his fingers. Damn.

Vlad Plasmius.

A stupid name that reeked of a grandiose sense of self importance and naivety. And, knowing that he was the one to wake Pariah in a foolish, short sighted attempt at his crown, it was likely apt as well.

He’d turned one of Pariah’s most loyal against him. Stolen what was Pariah’s and had yet to see due consequence.

“I’d warn that your face might become stuck if I wasn’t so sure it already had, is a scowl the only expression you can make these days?”

Pariah’s scowl deepened, “what is this Plasmius to you?”

Clockwork blinked, a moment of genuine surprise flickered across his expression before it melted back into his typical neutral expression.

“A nuisance mostly. His exploits tend to disrupt the flow of the realms and he rarely thinks about anything as dull as the consequences of his actions,” he tilted his head, allowing his gaze to wander, “and his determination to steal Daniel as his own has become grating.”

Pariah’s scowl lessened, he’d thought for sure, with the Half-Ghost’s penchant for chaos, that Clockwork would have a more favorable opinion of him. Often, it was the most obnoxious, frustrating, logic defying, gremlins of the infinite realms that caught his eye, and his affections.

Things that existed beyond the simple calculations of his sight, wrenches in the works of otherwise well laid plans. They were Clockwork’s favorite, his desire for mischief surprisingly genuine for one so ancient and omniscient. Though, perhaps that was why. The Ancients may not be chaos themselves, but they had certainly been born from it.

“You haven’t thought to share custody?” Pariah asked, curious. It was uncommon amongst ghosts, as obsessive as they were, but not unheard of. Especially when obsessions were involved, it was difficult after all, for a ghost to let go of something their core had claimed as their own.

Clockwork’s smile was tight, “I don’t think I have it in me to share.”

Pariah looked over at his companion, the ambient soft blue of his glow and its contrast against the shadows of his hooded cloak. He watched as the watches, clocks, and other time keeping devices embedded and decorated throughout his form ticked, discordant from each other; each one a slightly different pace from the others.

He watched as Clockwork’s face, as handsome still as it was the day he locked Pariah away, softened from sardonic and annoyed to something more gentle as the silence stretched on.

“Neither do I,” he said.

“You shouldn’t seek me out, if you have any desire at all to keep what limited freedom you have,” Pariah warned.

He had walked down one of the winding stairs in the far tower only to see Clockwork there, halfway down and leaning out of the window. His legs were fully formed for once and Pariah had to bite back a remark involving just how long it had been since he’d last seen them.

It was novel, to see Clockwork in his entirety.

“I have little choice, my duties as they are,” he lied. It was unlikely the Observants had any desire for him to leave his tower, poised at their beck and call. If they had demanded he keep an eye on Pariah at all as he claimed, it had been with the intention of using his screens. There wasn’t much that could be hidden from them after all.

Pariah stepped close, just enough to look out of the window beside him. It was like standing beside a lightning storm, as static and electric as the space between them had become.

“They do not fear I’ll steal you away from them?” He folded his hands behind his back, held them there, clenched tightly in restraint.

Clockwork’s smile was bitter, as it often was nowadays when he was reminded of his bindings, “there is little you can do.”

“There is little I would not do,” he countered.

He stepped away, his legs fading once more into a familiar tail and Pariah bit back disappointment.

“You assume I would return here? Should I be relieved of my duties?” Clockwork asked, snide.

“You assume I would not chain you here myself?” He would, with no hesitation at all, if he thought it would hold. If something as simple as chains and binders could keep something like Clockwork.

He walked towards him, internally rolling his eyes when Clockwork kept level at his height even as they descended. It was a small, petty thing, him not allowing himself to be vulnerable in any way, and it was very Clockwork.

“You could not hold me.”

“I could try.”

Pariah, finding more and more time to himself as the Castle’s restoration saw its completion, was looking into the observant’s laws. And their prisoners, and their actions after Pariah himself had been locked away.

It was boring, tedious work to shuffle through the information given to him. The countless detailed notes of the Observants countless boring meetings were beginning to blend together in his mind. It would be easier, he knew, if he simply skipped to the parts that were important to him. The ones that involved Clockwork and their claims to him.

But that was against his nature, so he read, and read, and fought down the rising urge to simply fly over to their courts of judgement and raze it to the ground. It would be quicker, and more enjoyable as well. But it wouldn’t give him the answers he needed, and it wouldn’t guarantee Clockwork’s release from his duties.

He continued reading.

“You’re calmer now, without the ring,” Clockwork said, once more stating the obvious.

Pariah put down the papers he was staring at, the words had long blurred together and there were more pleasant things here now to keep his eyes occupied. “I should hope so, with all the trouble you went through to separate me from it.”

His companion nodded, the hood shifting slightly with the movement to cover his face even further and Pariah frowned.

“You would have been more successful in your conquest had it never been gifted to you,” Clockwork said, “it is perhaps for the best, that you fell to its charms and lost your patience.”

Pariah doesn’t know why he brought this up. It could be to agitate or remind him of their animosity. It could be one of those strange roundabout explanations Clockwork used instead of apologies, or it could be his attempt at distancing himself. A reminder of how far Pariah had fallen in the end.

“Carefully planned no doubt,” Pariah said, his voice light. “A gift given to disrupt what goals I had, to speed up my fall and more quickly end my reign.”

“A necessary evil, to lessen the cost.”

Pariah smiled, sharp, “are you saying I’m a larger threat without it?”

Clockwork turned his gaze away, “you're certainly more meticulous. It’s terrifying really.”

“What do you see in those futures of yours?” He asked, not expecting an answer.

He didn’t get one, “many things. Different branches and paths, some brighter than others, some barely there at all…�� Clockwork floated to the window and looked outside, “it would be easier, Pariah, if you bothered to be predictable.”

Ha, Pariah smiled, “If you truly struggled to predict my actions, we would not be here now. At least not as we are.”

Clockwork gave a hum of agreement, “it is what you are going to do next, I think, that I struggle to see.”

Pariah had taken the chance, with Clockwork’s back to him, to get closer. To crowd himself near without touching and spoke in his ear, “I disagree. There is no doubt in my mind you see exactly what I am going to do, what I have planned. What you fail to see, my dear timekeeper, is how to stop it.”

He disappeared before Pariah could get his arms around him.

But no matter, Clockwork had been correct when he’d called Pariah meticulous.

“I’d rather you not call me your ‘dear’,” Clockwork said, appearing far enough away that it was a wonder Pariah had heard him at all.

They were outside, the weeds and plants of his courtyard finally, properly tamed and pleasant. He lifted the petals of a particularly pretty purple plant to his lips and kissed it gently before replanting it into the ground.

“I could,” he offered, “call you by the name of a flower instead.”

Clockwork clicked his tongue, “I do think pet names are beneath you. You’ve never used one before.” That was certainly true, but he’d also had an image to uphold before, and many other ways to see Clockwork flustered.

If he had known how well something so simple had worked though, he would have started using them an eon ago. Ah well.

“Perhaps I grew romantic in my forced sleep?,” Pariah said, his expression slipping into a smirk. Clockwork’s careful distance was a set back and a hopeful promise tangled together and he didn’t bother trying to move closer. He knew better than trying to corner a startled animal, trying to corner a skittish Ancient would unlikely end any more in his favor.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye, ah, Clockwork had shifted to his younger, child form. Was that a defense mechanism of some kind? Or did he do it out of spite? It would take some time, and likely some subtle experimentation, if Pariah ever wanted to truly solve that particular mystery.

But he was finding he didn’t mind the thought of taking his time, slowly unwrapping all of the things Clockwork had long kept hidden from him. The imperfections and jagged edges. Patience was starting to become second nature, in his dealings with the other ghost.

“Are you saying you dreamed, Pariah?” Clockwork asked, disbelief coloring his tone. Pariah wondered, if he refused to answer, would Clockwork ever know? He could not read minds, would he simply look at a branching path where Pariah was less inclined to be petty and seek his answer there? Would there be one?

Pariah was stubborn afterall.

The silence stretched uncomfortably and Pariah reveled in it. How novel, catching Clockwork off balance like this. He wondered if he could make it worse. If a gentle push would break the tension or heighten it.

“Afraid that you’ll fall for me again, if I should be endearing towards you?”

Clockwork made an incredulous noise, something between a cough and yelp, and Pariah had to bite back a smile. Much of the fun would be lost, should Clockwork realize he was being messed with.

His form aged as he started to rant, his low, deep voice colored with irritation and sang like music to Pariah’s ears. He didn’t even bother listening to the words, content instead, to feel Clockwork’s frustration in the ambient ectoplasm around them. Perhaps this feeling was why Clockwork had started these visits, marveling in Pariah’s own flustered discomfort. His mistake.

“-An obsession with conquest, control-“

“Obsessions change,” Pariah interrupted softly.

He was met with only silence, and when he looked over again towards Clockwork, the ancient had frozen entirely. His gaze was locked on Pariah himself, before he broke it away, looking instead at the keep around them. The rebuilt castle, the carefully manicured courtyard, the area set aside for his spars with the younger ghosts that returned so often, so ready to prove themselves. His posture softened.

“Yes, I suppose they do… if you allow it.”

This time, when Clockwork left his presence he didn’t bother to stop time and sneak away. There was no need likely, Pariah had not bothered to get close enough to stop him from simply flying away.

He leaned back into the grass, his core humming in satisfaction and anticipation.

It had been some time since Clockwork’s last visit. Too much time.

The visits had become regular, expected disruptions to Pariah’s rather dull afterlife, and their absence soured on his tongue. He tried not to let the frustration show in his lessons with his students, hitting one harder than necessary would hardly teach a ghost how to better dodge, and attacking faster than they could keep up with would hardly help them plan their next move.

So he put all of his frustration towards renovation once more. Sure, the castle had been properly rebuilt and looked as grand now as it ever had, but Pariah had learned of more modern comforts in his studies, as detailed and meticulous as they were, and desired to have some for himself.

He just needed to figure out how to implement the overly complicated designs to something that had long been simple. First he would start with an aqueduct of some sort. It would be nice to have regular access to more purified ectoplasm with which to bathe or shower himself, and the well in the center of the courtyard that dug deep enough to access the steady supply at the heart of his lair only allowed for him to pull up so much before it would be depleted.

If instead, he built some kind of purifier, something that could take ambient ectoplasm or even throwaway energy from the realms around him, he could imitate the water systems mortals had invented for their own homes. Perhaps he could create something similar to this ‘sauna’ he’d read about. A room packed full of purified ectoplasm for the sole gain of sitting inside to relax.

There was nothing more rewarding, Pariah thought, than working towards a goal and seeing that work bear fruit. Patience and perseverance were all a ghost needed to succeed.

Pariah worked as he waited for Clockwork to return.

“You seem to be in a bad mood, your majesty,” the dragonling said. She had long learned to use the most advantageous aspects of her abilities without fully shifting her form, but her speed at doing so needed work and Pariah had started leading her into Katas specific to each trick she had developed.

He glared at her, “I don’t have moods,” he lied. “But if I did, it only makes sense that I would be irritated to find my day interrupted by your foolish challenges.”

There was another young ghost there as well, a small dokkaebi that looked like it had once been a broom or something similar. He had attacked Pariah alone multiple times himself and had apparently convinced the dragonling to team up with him in their next attempt at Pariah’s nonexistent crown.

It had been nice, the extra bit of challenge it took to defeat them both without causing serious damage to either of them.

The dokkaebi scoffed, “if you really didn’t want us here you wouldn’t have this time in your day set aside.”

Pariah frowned and threw a gentle ectoblast towards him. It grazed his shoulder and he yelped in response. That should teach him not to sass his elders. “It is a foolish decision for a ghost to make plans when those around him seek to ignore them so entirely.”

The dragonling chuckled at the dokkaebi’s misfortune and Pariah snapped at her to concentrate on her own training. It was a poor showing of his self control, that even ghosts as young as they had noticed something off.

He was building a blueprint for the aqueduct’s filter when a feeling not unlike that of being covered entirely in slime settled around him. He scowled, “I don’t remember inviting you into my keep, watchers.”

“We are the Observants,” Pariah rolled his eyes, “we have come to judge you for your deeds.”

Entitled bastards.

They likely thought themselves more powerful than they were, Clockwork having lowered himself as he did for whatever nefarious, long term plan he was no doubt biding his time to implement. But Pariah was not bound by contracts or schemes, and even without his crown a handful of inactive ectoplasmic waste such as these were hardly a threat.

An annoyance though, considering what would happen should he actually shatter their cores. The last thing he wanted was for them to send Clockwork in their stead, even if it would break the impasse he’d caused with his prolonged absence.

“I have done nothing worth being judged,” Pariah said, his knowledge of what was and was not mentioned in each of the Observants’ ridiculous laws was encompassing and complete. There was somehow, despite their likely efforts, no laws against rebuilding one’s own lair or meeting challenges set against oneself.

Even in the rules of their contract with Clockwork, there was nothing that confined him permanently to his tower. It was stated, quite plainly, that he could leave in the performance of his duties as given by the Observants themselves.

Clockwork had stated many times that one of those duties had been to watch over Pariah.

The Observants, predictably, disagreed, “you have left the realms in terror and abandoned your duties as King.”

“What I did as king is not under your jurisdiction, and you know well that I was dethroned. You wouldn’t be here now, attempting to threaten me otherwise.” He stood to his full height, towering over his uninvite guests.

They wavered, giant, bulbous eyes that never blinked, Pariah held back his revulsion in favor of allowing his fury to take stage instead. “The clause of the King, as I remember it, was right by conquest. The fate of the realms to be given to the hands of whomever defeated me under their own power. The crown is no longer mine, it does not heed my call. I have no duties to be found in remis of.”

“Your reign of terror-”

His remaining eye twitched, “I did as King. To whom such laws do not apply.”

It was tedious, dealing with their repetitive denials, their attempts at enforcing laws that did not exist to their standards. But Pariah calmly shot down every accusation, every mentioned offense, citing written laws and countless examples of other ghosts and their versions of compliance. He had done nothing since he awakened, and it was this nothing that both infuriated them and protected him now.

“How does it feel, I wonder, to have been so thoroughly outsmarted by a child? Less than a year dead at the time, as I’ve been informed. Did your council throw a fit, when he absconded, erasing the position of High King from the realms until someone else should attempt to take up the mantle from the start as I had? Did it affect your plans? Were you hoping, when I awoke a second time, that I would start once more on my trail of conquest, crown or not?”

One of the Observants glared daggers at him, a nerve clearly struck, “we had hoped you’d stay true to what we believed you were. You left the task incomplete.”

Pariah grinned, “I don’t know what you mean, are the lands of the realms not united now?”

It squawked, “in what way?!”

“Why, against me, of course.”

The conversation with the Observants had been long, tedious, and mostly fruitless for both sides. They could not make anything stick against Pariah, not without breaking their own vows as they stood and making themselves powerless entirely. Yet all the same, it would not stop them from attempting to pass new laws and regulations, with the sole intent of catching Pariah out on it.

They would fail, of course, he had painstakingly sorted through every record and law, every court decision ever made since the foundation of the Observants’ Order. There would be no ghost, Observant or no, as thoroughly knowledgeable as he, in what could and could not be done. He was meticulous like that.

It had been a flaw, in their eyes. Made him slow to action. And the reason, he suspected, he had been gifted that ring. They had thought to use his rage, to falsify impatience, to more quickly advance their plans.

Their mistake.

Taking a moment to relax and stretch his limbs, Pariah stood to leave.

“Pariah!”

He had opened the door to see a flustered looking Clockwork on the other side, easily within reach. His hood had been mussed, likely caused by him rushing over to Pariah’s keep after so long purposefully ignoring him, and Pariah could see wisps of long white hair peeking through, no longer completely hidden. He’d kept it long.

“Where- I- I couldn’t see-,” Clockwork’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something that had long left, before settling on Pariah, an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks.

Realization dawned quickly as Clockwork noticed just how close they were to each other and attempted to create space between them. Not quick enough though, as Pariah curled his hand around a gloved wrist.

He stepped close, Clockwork moved back, almost like a dance, until the stone wall of the corridor blocked his retreat and he had nowhere left to go but Pariah’s arms.

Marveling in the feeling of finally, finally having Clockwork exactly where he wanted him, Pariah purred. When he looked down to admire his prize, Clockwork had ducked his head further beneath that damned hood, avoiding his gaze still. Annoyed, Pariah lifted his free hand and tugged it forcefully away.

It was a view easily worth the wait, Clockwork’s flustered expression, framed beautifully by soft white hair, even longer than Pariah last remembered and tangled in a mess by the constant presence of his hood. Pariah longed to card his fingers through it, to gently brush away the knots and feel the silky strands beneath his fingers. So he did, drinking in Clockwork’s gentle shiver like fine wine as he leaned closer, trapping him against the wall.

Once he was done, he allowed his arms to lower, circling around a tapered waist and pulling the other ghost closer to him. Even stopping time, it would be impossible now, for Clockwork to disentangle himself and escape. Pariah’s grip was as gentle as it could be, but it was unyielding.

“You did not tell me they could block your sight,�� he muttered gently into Clockwork’s hair.

“It is not my job to tell you things you already know.”

Pariah hummed, trailing his hand along Clockwork’s back, documenting in his mind every soft hitch of unneeded breath, reacquainting himself with the more sensitive places now available to him. “Once I destroy that useless council of theirs, I will have to find a way to cage you for myself,” he mused.

Clockwork bit him, fangs sinking into Pariah’s unarmored shoulder.

Well, he would at the very least attempt it.

Final comments

#Danny Phantom #Clockwork dp #Pariah Dark #Pariah/Clockwork #Phic Phight #Bee's writing #yooooooo I'm not kidding my goal is to drag as many of you fuckers down with me as I can #@floralflowerpower #That includes You

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no6secretsanta · 3 years

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Nezushi Christmas

For @aoicanvas from @fairysdarkestnight

I was really intrigued by your prompt of a detective AU but I’m not terribly confident in my AU writing skills, so I tried to get some of that feeling in this fic. I definitely see them being a bad cop/worse cop though Shion would definitely try to find another way. I hope you enjoy. Happy Holidays!

“You can’t tell me that you’ve essentially been running the city and have no idea what the accounting department’s been up to this entire time.”

Shion threw his head back against his office chair and sighed, wishing that Nezumi would just shut up for a minute.

“The whole department is made of scumbags. You hire them intentionally? Because I don’t think you could have done that if you tried. What did you do, put an ad in the personals for anyone willing to steal from the city? Why didn’t you tell me when I first got back – I would’ve been amazing at the job.”

Nezumi leaned against Shion’s desk and folded his arms, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. “But that aside Mr. Mayor, what do you plan to do now?”

In all honesty, Shion had no idea how he would get the city out of this predicament. Ever since the wall fell, the citizens had been trying to rebuild and learn how to govern themselves. And with that they had to completely restructure the way the city ran. Most of the government employees had suffered from a mental breakdown once the city infrastructure fell apart. And with Shion being more or less placed in charge in order to stop the city from being destroyed, well it fell to him to keep things running.

And somehow, he managed to even screw that up.

He literally had one job.

“You’re not helping Nezumi. Why did you even come back? Not,” he hurried to add “that I’m not happy to see you. I am. I’d wished for your return every day. I just didn’t think it would come in the middle of all this.”

Nezumi reached over and ruffled his hair like a child. “Oh you poor boy. Honest to a fault. How did you survive without me? But that still doesn’t answer my question – what are you going to do?”

Running his fingers through his hair to attempt to flatten out the mess the other had made, Shion sighed again. “I know that without the money that the accountants embezzled we don’t have the funds for the Christmas festival we were going to hold. This is the first year we’ve had the money or the time to put on an event, and I so excited to finally have the chance to bring back the old traditions from before the world was split into the six cities.”

“And?” Shion stood and hopped up to sit beside Nezumi on his desk and rolled up his sleeves. “I think we need to figure out who orchestrated this. If we can find them – because it’s highly unlikely that the entirety of the accounting department managed to collaborate to commit fraud of this magnitude – we might be able to recover at least a portion of the money. And if we can do that, there might still be some hope for our festival.”

“So remind me again why I’m helping you with your ‘investigation,’” Nezumi grumbled as he sifted through papers, trying to find any evidence that might help.

“You’re the one who decided to come back after leaving that day. I needed help then and you weren’t there to give it. Besides, I’d planned for a rendition of A Christmas Carol in the center square. Most of theater troupe is here in the city now. I’m sure they’d let you join the performance if you wanted. If we can hold the festival.”

He dropped to the floor. “Oh Shion, my sweet, you know exactly what to say to make my cold, dead heart beat again,” Nezumi deadpanned. Shion kicked his foot out, connecting with Nezumi’s side and forcing him to roll over.

“You’re on my papers. Either take this seriously or go get some food or do something productive.”

Leaping to his feet, Nezumi threw a smile over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later then.”

As Shion sat on his office floor, surrounded by loose papers, he realized that he’d just been played.

When Nezumi came back nearly three hours later, he held a bag of pastries from Karan’s Bakery and a twitching accountant.

“Here.” He tossed the bag in front of Shion, who had organized the papers into some semblance of order (though Shion would be the first to admit that the system wouldn’t make any sense to anyone else.)

Inside was a cinnamon roll, a baguette, and a half-eaten muffin. Apparently someone had gotten a little hungry. “So,” Shion began, tearing off a piece of bread, “I was able to find some anomalies in the data and trace some of the transactions that way. They’d set up a fake department and was funneling the money there. I wasn’t able to find out the head of the operation but it’s a start.

Nezumi draped himself over Shion’s back and pulled out his muffin. “Oh don’t worry your head over a small detail like that Your Majesty.” A violent bite was taken out of the pastry. “That’s what the scumbag embezzler over there is for.” Another bite. “I found him while I was out.”

“You just… happened to find one of the employees I’ve been searching for for weeks?”

“Yup. You should thank me. Now,” Nezumi said, a dangerous glint in his eye as he pulled out his knife and began toying with the tip. “Let’s find out what he knows.”

It said a lot about how much Shion had grown from when he was twelve years old that he simply pushed himself off the ground and turned to look at their guest. Even as an adult when he started working for the city he likely would have tried to stop Nezumi. But now, now he knew that as much as Nezumi threatened the man, he wouldn’t kill him for the information. Probably. And if he hurt him, well, it’s a good thing Shion had practice stitching up wounds.

Unsurprisingly, the man started talking as soon Nezumi started asking questions. The orders came from the previous head of accounting, a woman who had been missing since the wall fell. Apparently she hadn’t been missing so much as biding her time. When she showed up one morning claiming that she was running a new department and that she needed invoices paid and her workers’ salary, the people of No.6 who had been taught not to question those in authority went along with what she said.

One quick call to the police department and the woman was arrested and her assets handed over to the city. Not necessarily the most orthodox of punishments, but Shion was still trying to set up a fair court system based on the history books Nezumi kept in the West Block.

With most the money recovered and the rest in transit, Shion was finally able to breathe again and put plans into motion for the holiday festival. He drafted contracts for vendors and planned activities, all with Nezumi (usually) at his side. They often argued (“We don’t need mead stall when no one in this city even knows how to brew mead”) but Nezumi’s input was often helpful, if a little dramatic. They were still avoiding the main topic between them and neither wanted to bring up Nezumi’s absence or his continued presence, but for them it was enough.

On the night before the festival (which Shion had been able to convince Nezumi to take part in, despite his numerous excuses), the two of them laid beside each other in Shion’s bed above the bakery. They’d finished a Christmas feast with Karan, who’d enlisted Nezumi’s help in cooking the holiday dishes she’d never heard of, and prepped for the morning rush as best as possible.

“I missed you,” Shion whispered into the dark. “It’s been a hard year. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to continue. You came back right as I was considering giving up. There’s just so much pressure. And I want to quit on a daily basis.”

With their backs to each other, Shion couldn’t see Nezumi’s face as the silence dragged on. Eventually Shion rolled over and laid a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You could never upset me Shion.” Nezumi’s use of his full name startled Shion, but he said nothing as Nezumi took a shaky breath. “If you weren’t here waiting for me, then I wouldn’t have had anything to come back to. There was no point. I traveled for the last year and every small thing would remind me of you. Before I knew it, my feet started taking me in the direction of this damn city. I couldn’t stay away. And that kills me inside. It nearly got us both killed last year. But still. I couldn’t stop myself. All I wanted was you.”

In the darkness of the night, Nezumi’s words held a longing that Shion had never heard before. The raw emotion in the whispered confession was more than either had expected. But that didn’t stop Shion from wrapping an arm around Nezumi and holding him close. “Thank you for coming back.”

“I promised didn’t I?”

Reunion will come.

“Merry Christmas Shion.”

#fairysdarkestnight #aoicanvas #no6 #no.6 #no 6 #no. 6

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justiceraffles · 3 years

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"Hey, what if MK was a horribly written telenovela with a poorly conceived mystery storyline that's tied together in the most precarious of ways with nonsensical plotpoints and was also endgame Hakukai" So here's the start to my Hakukai longfic! I have a lot of things to say about this story so I'll just ramble about it at length beneath the cut if anyone's interested in my nonsense notes. Otherwise,

Read Here

I've been working on this thing on and off for a year and a half now, it lives rent free in my head every day and has been editted, restructured, and rewritten a lot. I've been very apprehensive about sharing it. ...To be honest, I still am! It's a chaotic story where I just allowed myself to write the most self-indulgent thing I could muster. This entire plot is an amalmagation of random things and ideas I like. It feels like a niche concept that is very messy and ???¿¿¿¿??? why did I make this

But, I guess that also makes it a very "me" story, so having fun with it and writing something that just brought me joy is what matters most, ultimately.

(aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

I'm very thankful to everyone who has read the outline and concept for it or just listened to me ramble about the incoherent plot and characters or cheering me on when I've been kinda anxious about it— it's thanks to that support despite this being such a specific and ¿¿¿ idea that I've found the courage to actually share it. I'm very grateful and I hope you guys can enjoy something in it o)-(

So, about the fic,

It's a story about Hakuba! I think we are all well aware that jokes about his long absences and infrequent appearances are very commonplace (where in the world is hakuba saguru??? TT) and it unfortunately leads to him being forgotten and overlooked often. The initial concept that inspired this fic was "Hey, what if Hakuba stopped showing up for real?" and explore the implications this would have on the MK storyline (and Kaito, by extension). I wanted to make a plot where he was allowed to be the protagonist of his own story, highlight his worth as a detective, his role in the main narrative, and the depth of his relationship with Kaito. It's a Hakuba Saguru Appreciation fic, first and foremost!

So, the romance itself is very slow burn. There is a lot of plot, because I have a lot of fun with ridiculous, contrived stories haha. It takes a while for the story to be fully set up, and Kaito doesn't make a proper, official appearance until the end of Chapter 2.

Chapter 1 is rather lengthy and sets the context and plot from Hakuba's POV, Chapter 2 focuses on establishing where his relationship with Kaito (as well as Aoko and Akako) stands at the moment, and Chapter 3 onward starts seeing the first proper developments in the relationship.

It's a bit rocky at first and they have a lot of ups and downs but I promise they work it out (I promise!!! I swear!!!) I tried my best to maintain a balance between the fluffy and angsty moments, but I have to admit it's quite dramatic at parts lol I enjoy stupid, trashy drama a lot sometimes— this is the reason I'm calling it a bad telenovela.

Despite the fact that this is very plotty, their feelings for each other are the guiding force behind the storyline, and their relationship does take center stage later on. The romance is in no way secondary, it just takes a long while to fully develop. They most definitely get a happy ending, but you can expect this to be 95% pining.

The story starts out some years after the current events in the MK manga. Pandora hasn't been found yet, and KID is still active. On the other hand, the DC canon is used very loosely; the conflict has long since been resolved. The BO was taken down years before the start of this story.

The two plots aren't too deeply intertwined here, they just intercept at parts. References to DC events appear here and there and some elements and character interactions overlap, but they tend to be minor for the most part. This is primarily a MK story and I wasn't too worried about completely integrating both plotlines (or staying 100% accurate to the DC plot, for that matter).

Of course, because this is MK-centric, Aoko and Akako are involved with the overarching story and have major roles to play.

In terms of DC characters, Masumi, Shiho, Heiji and Shinichi play semi-prominent roles in the story. I've tagged Masumi from the getgo because she appears in the first chapter, but I'll add the others when I get to the little arcs they show up in. Save for some specific contributions they have, they aren't too deeply involved with the overall plot progression, but the interactions Hakuba has with them are important for his character development and his better understanding of his relationship with Kaito. Basically each of these characters gets some sort of little story arc in which they interact with/help Hakuba in some way. I arbitrarily chose who I wanted him to interact with, lol.

Speaking of arbitrary decisions— Miss Masumi!!!! She's the first character that shows up in this and interacts with Hakuba. I understand this is probably a strange choice. Because I really wanted to flesh out Hakuba's detective methods and life in London a little more, I decided to use the very what if headcanon of Hakuba's maternal family and the Sera family being acquainted with each other. Like I said before, I didn't really want to connect DC and MK plots thoroughly, so the Akai family plotline isn't at all relevant here beyond a couple of passing mentions. I was mostly interested in Hakuba having an MI6 connection without the need of using another OC and I just wanted to imagine what a hypothetical dynamic between him and Masumi would be like.

And then, OCs. There's a couple of OCs with pretty major roles here as well. Really major— probably in equal measure to Aoko and Akako. I apologise in advance! I really needed them to properly build the detective/mystery aspect of the plot, and the more I wrote, the more they became involved with the story and relationship progression TT I really enjoyed writing them a lot, and I'm satisfied with how they turned out here. I understand OCs with prominent roles aren't everyone's cup of tea, though. Even though I enjoyed writing them, I'm a little self-conscious about how relevant they ended up being when they were originally just going to be there as a plot device to kickstart things ;;; Hopefully someone can find enjoyment in them nonetheless. They are most heavily involved with the story after the midpoint, but they appear all throughout.

I'm really nervous about the choices to have Masumi and major OCs in this story...I understand it is likely these things will make this story a little too niche. But!!!!!!!!! Again!!!!!!!!!!!!! Having fun with it is what matters most Raffles!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get that through your thick skull!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, please expect the most convoluted explanation to Pandora. There is a lot of made up lore I had a blast writing but it's all probably needlessly complicated.

In summary, it's a detective story starring Hakuba that somehow ended up reading like a dramatic post-breakup/getting back together soap opera.

A significant portion of this has been prewritten, so my (ideal) plan is to have weekly or biweekly updates (but hmmmm let's see how long that lasts until I decide to scrap and rewrite everything out of embarrassment— this is very likely, I second-guess myself a lot)

I keep dragging it through the mud, but I've actually had a blast writing it, even though there's A Lot going on and I'm not very confident in it being decent enough to share.

With all that, I hope someone else can maybe find some enjoyment reading it.

#Refutation of time #my writing #DCMK #magic kaito #hakuba saguru #hakukai #sagukai #dcmk fanfic #this is the most rafflescore way to take over the MK plot #says my beta #ohdearohboyohgod #i need to pee #I have read the first chapter like 50 times over its not even funny #(passepartout voice)#GAAAAAAAAAAGH THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

Chthonic Love Ch 20

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi Chapter Summary: Remember that whole Cave/Penthos thing? Yeah. Let’s see what’s happening with that. Previous chapter here

Your cheeks flushed as you thought back to earlier that day. You almost had relations on a beach. Unfortunately, Yoongi received a missive from Charon and had to abscond to his office when the two of you arrived back at the palace. You were in the scullery discussing the masquerade preparations, while Lethe and some other servants washed dishes.

“We need to make sure the platters are refreshed every half hour.” You said, reading through the list you had prepared on parchment. The kitchen staff had begun roasting some of the dishes and preparing sauces.

“Of course. Oh this is so exciting. It takes me back to my days in the Athenian court.” Lethe remarked as she scrubbed one of the roasting pans.

“Fantastic. Thank you ladies. I have new uniforms being made for you as well. I hope you like them.”

“I’m sure they will be lovely. Now surely you have something better to do with your time than hang out in the scullery. A Lady would usually have a whole staff, but all you have is a skeleton crew.”

You sighed. It was true. There would normally be hundreds of servants in a Castle of this size to help prepare for an event of the Realm. You liked the quiet and more intimate feel that the Obsidian Palace had; you knew most of the staff at this point, even if they didn’t feel comfortable speaking to you. But, it did make preparations of this magnitude quite difficult.

“Indeed, I do. but I will see you tomorrow morning Lethe.”

You slid off the countertop and headed to the older part of the castle. Given the unknown status of the caverns, Yoongi had left it locked up with the Enchantments. You used the ring and let yourself in.

“Good afternoon babies,” you cood at the spiderlings, carefully walking around them. As you approached the decrepit dais, you saw several of the new outfits laid out.

“Arachne!” You yelled into the room, knowing that with her antennae she would be able to hear you easily. You walked over and touched the material as you waited.

About half a minute later she came scurrying up from the cavern. “Yes m’lady?”

“These look excellent. The fabric is so soft and the pockets are an excellent touch.” You complimented her.

“Thank you,” She clacked her front pinchers together. “I have several more in the cavern that I am still working on.

“Very good. Please remember, Hephaestus is coming tomorrow.”

“Ah yes. Thank you for the reminder. I will make sue my children pick up after themselves before we have a guest.”

You smiled, it was so cute how a scary looking spider lady could be such a great mom. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back to collect these tomorrow. Thank you.”

You exited the old throne room and headed towards Yoongi’s office. As you made your way, you examined the walls once again, making sure the vines and flowers were perfect. The vines tapered away as you approached the private parts of the Castle. Walking up the stairs, your heart started to race as you thought about spending time with Yoongi again.

You and Yoongi hadn’t really discussed your relationship status since that day in the library, but ever since then the two of you had grown increasingly comfortable around each other in every aspect. You knocked on the door.

“Come in,” you heard his voice through the door and opened it. He kept his head down, looking at the paper in his hands.

You frowned and walked over. Standing behind him, you placed your hands on his shoulders. “RSVPS or something more serious?” You asked, gently fluffing his hair with one of your hands.

Yoongi sat the paper down, lifted his head up and leaned back against the chair fully. “It’s from Penthos.” He responded. You could hear the dread in his voice as he answered. He reached up and took one of your hands in his. directing you to move beside the chair. HE let go of your hand and scooted his chair back. He sighed deeply and stood up, walking over to the window.

“He’s close to the source of the Earthquakes. He was able to make a deal with some Harpies on the Archeron Coast. They flew over the forest ahead of him to see what to expect.” Yoongi paused briefly. “There is a cave that leads into the Moonlit mountains. There are trails leading from the Algea Forest into the cave. Trails that would have to be created by somebody.”

“So...you think this is definitely someone or something causing it on purpose?” You asked, picking up the letter that Yoongi had left on the desk. You read it for yourself. The earthquakes had mostly been contained to small aftershocks at this point, making the two of you hopeful it had been an animal burrowing.

Yoongi was quiet, continuing to look out the window. You walked over and placed your hand on his arm. “Ok. So, what does this change? Hephaestus is coming tomorrow to repair the golems. Should we cancel the masquerade? If it’s unsafe, we probably shouldn’t be inviting everyone here.”

He turned towards you. “I mean. If a bunch of Titans show up, it’s probably better to have half of Olympus here to fight them.” It was meant to be a joke, but he sounded so sad. He bit his lip.

“What is it?” You asked.

He turned back and looked out the window, “ If there really are titans, or some other unknown foes in the realm, you should go back to the mortal realm. It’s not safe here.”

It was as though he'd slapped you. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You scoffed, “I’m not leaving you.”

Yoongi turned back, an indecipherable look on his face. “After the ball, go back with Hoseok.”

“No.” You said, starting to get angry. “The whole point of the Masquerade was to ask Namjoon to relinquish control of me. If I go back to the mortal realm, Namjoon could own me. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi barked back. “We would still ask Namjoon to release you from the contract. But at least you’d be safe from whatever the fuck is on the other side of the mountains.”

“Safe with Namjoon? With my brother who bartered me away as a pawn in gambling? Are you serious?” You stepped back. “There could just be some stupid underworld Bears or something on the other side of the mountains. Or a Chimera or something. You can’t kick me out over that.”

“[YN] I’m not kicking you out. I want you to be safe.” He gritted through his teeth.

“I’m not going to risk being given to your brother. I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving with Hoseok.” You felt tears starting to form in your eyes.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair and then took a breath. Yoongi made a decision in that second that he would regret for years to come. “Please. I just can’t." He forced himself to say it," I can’t keep playing house with you when there’s a potential war on the other side of the Underworld. I mean. I almost missed a reaping today because of you.”

“....you.” Tears were fully flowing now. “But you wanted….” You gasped, trying to get enough air and to find the right words.

Yoongi continued through the lump in his own throat. “I wish Namjoon had never brought you here. This whole idea was stupid and I should have sent you back with him the day he dropped you off here.” He walked over to his desk, he needed to get away from you. He couldn’t look at you. “I release you from your contract. I think you should leave as soon as possible.”

You stood there in shock for a minute, the tears falling. “Yoongi I don’t know how to leave. I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you. I love you.” You sobbed, walking over to him.

He kept his head down, leaning over his desk. Suddenly, he stood up. “I said you should leave!” he screamed and threw the restructured orb you had arrived in at the door, smashing it into hundreds of fragments.

You stared at him in disbelief and then carefully walked over the broken glass shards, sobbing, and opened the door.

You ran down the staircase, through the hallway, through the great hall, and finally out onto the bridge. You were out of breath. What the hell had just happened? You wondered. You began to shake as you walked across the bridge. You tried to remember the places you had read about in the Compendium. Maybe you could row your way to Erbos, the edge of the mortal world. Yes. That would be the best way out of here. You walked over to docks and picked a small rowboat. Now that the shock had worn off you had begun to shiver. All you had on was a dress with very sheer sleeves. It was beautiful. Yoongi had said you looked beautiful in it earlier that day. Tears began to fall again. He wouldn’t even listen to you. And then he was so scary when he was screaming and throwing things. You shuddered as you stepped into the boat and began to row. You approached the gate from the opposite side of normal.

“Holly?” you called out.

His three heads poked around the corner, still adorned in their flower crowns. His tails began to wag.

“Can you open the gate please? I need to leave.”

Holly cocked his three heads as if to ask “what?”

“Yoongi asked me to leave, so I need to go.” You said quietly.

Holly whimpered, but he pulled the chain and opened the gate dutifully.

“You’re a good boy Holly. Take care of Yoongi, ok?” you said as he leaned over the boat. You rubbed his soft ears. You were going to miss him a lot. “You’re such a good boy.” you pressed your body into his white fur, dampening it with your tears. You sat back down in the boat and rowed out into the Stygian Sea. It was calm as usual and you knew it was south of the castle, you aimed your boat to the west and began to row. NEXT CHAPTER AN: I’m sorry. There is a reason for this ;-;

@sugas-bbygirl

#BTS suga #bts yoongi #bts writing #bts fic #suga x you #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts suga x reader #bts suga x you #suga x y/n #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic

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thetirisfaltheatretroupe · 3 years

Text

Big Troupe Announcements! Big Troupe Summer!

Hello, everyone! Lord Atos Sunhart here! For those of you who aren’t aware, Fehl had stepped down last year from Troupe related duties due to her own life becoming much more demanding, and so I returned to the director’s seat once again. I’ve been back for about a year, but we’ve kind of laid a little low since my return due to a lot of restructuring and our desire to try a few new ideas out that are coming along slowly but surely!

We have some awesome projects in the works, some of which won’t be ready for some time, and some that we’re excited to bring you much sooner! But we can’t QUITE open the curtains for a peek just yet. Before anything, I’d like to make a series of announcements about some of our projects this Summer, starting with the most important one of all:

The Troupe Is Casting!

Looking at some of the last posts made on this ye olde tumblr I guess it’s not a surprise that the troupe is indeed casting once more. In the past, it was due to not really having enough active people to pull off a large show with, but now, times have changed a bit, and we’re looking for people to make our shows even better and more frequent than ever!

What we’re looking for;

* Any race/gender/faction! Yes, we hire Alliance as well! In the era of Discord and cross faction RP, there’s no reason we have not to. Though, we are overloaded on elves at the moment and would kinda love a tauren or any Alliance character

* Obviously the character should be a good fit for the group! We’re not really looking for a serial murderer warlock who tries to sacrifice our members to the great Murloc Gods at the first chance they get. We’re not too picky here, but there are some characters that just don’t work terribly well with our concept.

* Available to take part in events during most of our performing days, which tend to be weekends, starting around 6:00 PM server. We base all our event times on server time.

* Someone who, behind the character, is friendly, patient, and above all else, mature. The clear rule of “don’t be an asshole” applies in this guild (and I’ll explain what that means below), and we have a zero drama tolerance policy. We are all adults who pay a monthly subscription to a greedy corporation to play with their toys, I think the last thing we want is to relive middle school in our 20s and 30s.

* Someone with a desire to help make memorable, exciting events for others to enjoy. While we play the part of celebrities, and being in the spotlight is a lot of fun, ultimately we want someone who, behind the character at least, does it for the enjoyment of others and not for personal gain or clout. We’re not clout chasers. We are proud of how long we’ve been performing and how hard we work, but ultimately we do this for our audience’s enjoyment.

* Communication is important! We aren’t a hardcore raiding guild, and thus we won’t be upset if you tell us you have to miss a rehearsal night or have a family emergency.. But if you know ahead of time, we really want someone who will let us know they can’t make it to an event so we can plan around it.

Furthermore, it should be said that while we normally do not require a person leave their guild to join us, this time around we’re looking for more to wear the guild tag above their heads, at least for this recruitment effort. Above all of these, the most important key point is the ‘don’t be an asshole’ policy. In the past I didn’t think it needed to be explained, but things we’ve been through in recent months compels me to explain what I mean by this; no homophobic behavior, racist behavior, transphobic behavior, harassment, pedophilia and other such illegal and morally vile behavior will be tolerated in our guild, period. But I’m sure you’re asking, what’s in it for me? Well, the benefits of working with the Tirisfal Theatre Troupe are, but not limited to;

* Being part of a near decade-old (8 years this October) guild that through thick and thin has stood the test of time!

* Working alongside some extremely talented, fun, humorous, and creative minds!

* Getting to make people smile and be a positive part of the community!

* Taco Tuesdays. This is a lie, don’t believe me.

* Helping an already fun concept become even better as we grow and adapt to the ever changing nature of this game and its community!

* Adding “Actor/Actress” to your long series of titles in your TRP Profile. Maybe somewhere between “Lord of the Dance” and “Wrecker of your Shit”! Don’t be bashful, we know you have it in there somewhere.

So if you’re interested in being a part of the stage and bringing the uniqueness that is YOU into our ranks, please send an in-game mail to Atos on Wyrmrest Accord server (Hordeside), or show up for the open auditions at the dates, times, and location listed below;

Thursday, June 3rd 6:00 - 8:30 PM Portrait Room - Legion Dalaran

Friday, June 4th 6:00 - 8:30 PM Portrait Room - Legion Dalaran

Saturday, June 5th 6:00 - 8:30 PM Portrait Room - Legion Dalaran

We hope to see you there! And remember, because we’ve had this happen a few times; if you think you aren’t good enough, you’re probably actually amazing and far more talented than you think!

Anniversary Bash 2021 Officially Planned! With a Twist

Those of you who have followed us for some time are likely aware of our annual celebration we hold on the anniversary of our first major public performance! This has traditionally been held on the third Friday of every October, so that it lines up perfectly with Hallow’s End starting. While we have had on-off years, and even said in the past we would never do it again (Insert I was crazy that time meme here), it’s pretty clear that at least every other year we seem to take to it again with new ideas. Honestly, we LOVE these yearly parties, despite how much stress they put us under, and we’re going to announce it earlier this year just so people know; yes, yes there WILL be a bash this year!

Things are going to be a little different this year, though. This October will actually have 5 Fridays in it due to...well...the calendar! It conspires against us, dammit! Because the third Friday falls in place before the Hallow’s End events are set to start, we will instead be bumping it up one week to the 22nd. So, there you have it! Our Big Bash will be on the 22nd of October! We’ll be making a full announcement about it later this Summer, and honestly, I think folks are going to really like the fun we have planned for it. So if this is something you’re looking forward to early, or you just like making sure your calendar events are always filled out, please make a mark for

October 22nd, 2021!

Hellsqueal Squeals Again, Plus Winter’s Veil In July?

This Summer we’ll be getting back to our roots and bringing Hellsqueal back for another round. The Trilogy will rise again, and you won’t want to miss it! This time we’ll be performing it for our audiences on both sides of the factional fence and making some revisions to the script, but long time fans needn’t worry! Hellscream is still the same boisterous buffoon he’s always been.

Also, we’re bringing you an interesting new concept no one has EVER thought of before! ...well, okay, that’s a lie, but Greatfather Winter needn’t send me a lump of coal in my in-game mailbox for that one! The TTT will be hosting a Winter’s Veil themed party IN JULY! Don your gaudy sweaters, get ready to meet Greatfather Winter, take part in a sled race, and get ready to watch a completely out of season showing of It’s A Wonderful Unlife! Some lucky attendees may even receive a gift! The date for this and for Hellsqueal’s trilogy are yet to be announced, but they will be unveiled very soon!

Even though we never left, it feels good to be back at full strength again and pushing hard to give everyone the quality entertainment we pride ourselves on! Keep an eye out for our announcements this Summer - we’ll be hitting not only Tumblr when an event is ready to go, but the Blizzard forums and various Discord community servers! So please, have a fantastic day, week, month, even a year!

#tttevents #Wyrmrest Accord #WRA RP #Wow Rp #Hordeside events #alliance rp

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atomicblasphemy · 3 years

Text

Blight Industries Board Meeting

I have some thoughts about that EE episode. Being myself I just couldn’t put them out in a sensible fashion, so I put on some crust in my headphones, amped everyone’s cynicism, and here’s the result.

O: Good evening everyone and welcome to the Blight Industries board meeting of number...

Ed and Em shoot glances at each other as confused about how they ended up there as when it happened for the first time.

Al looks longingly at his workshop door.

Amity glares.

Am: Mom, can we try to have dinner like a normal family which, according to Merriam-Webster at least, we technically are? For once at least?

O: That can wait, Mittens. Anyway, I called you all here to announce I shall be making some changes to our company. Namely, I shall change the job titles of the three of you. I’m still CEO, Alador still development, research and, well, the assembly line I suppose. As for you, Emira, Edric, you’re now in charge of security. I don’t want to hear about company secrets leaking out, okay? Mittens, you’re our new marketing department.

Am: Marketing?

Em: Seriously, mom?

Od: Dearests, this is a meeting please use our appropriate titles.

Ed: No no no no. They have a point. Okay, let me see if I understand your thought process. So, you’re the head of a company, right?

Od: I don’t like your tone, Edric. But okay, I’ll humor you. Yes I am, go on.

Ed: And said company essentially sells only guns.

Od: Mhmm, what’s your point?

Ed: And you think that the best way to convey that is by using your local annoyed teenage lesbian that half the time looks like she would be rather doing literally anything else? Is that a correct assessment, ma’am?

Od: Oh, and I suppose you have a better idea?

Em: Yeah, we do. ANYONE ELSE. We *frantically and repeatedly points her finger from herself to Edric* could do this, I mean we tried to leak our sister’s journal just a few weeks ago so we clearly know nothing about keeping secrets. You could do it. I mean, no offense, but putting up a show seems to be your only useful skill because if this your idea of how to run a company, we... aaaaand now I’m suddenly starting to realize where we get our decision making incompetence from. Anyway. This guy *points at Alador* could do it if you just made sure to remind him that that’s what’s funding his little research. Heck, you could hire Luz. She’s pretty charismatic and just took a shot at the Emperor himself. I’m sure having someone like that vouching for our products would do wonders for our business. See? That’s how you make a half-decent marketing strategy. Besides, I hear Luz could use the money and I’m sure Mittens would be happy to have her working here.

Am: Yup, normally I’d have other reasons but honestly I’d just be happy someone else is doing this particular job.

Al: *woop there goes gravity* Why? I told you this wasn’t the best idea. Besides, we agreed, twice at least, that I would take care of the abominations and you’d be in charge of everything else *leans in closer to whisper conspiratorially to Odalia* I don’t like dealing with them *points at their very loving children*.

Ed, Em, and Am: HEY!

Al: *sighs* Listen to your boss, children.

The children huddle closer, they are the conspiratorial ones now.

Am: We’re gonna end up broke and starving, aren’t we?

Em: Yeah, isn’t it weird though? I mean, you’d think they’d have found someone better to... sponsor by now. Apparently that’s not the case. Moreover, why do they, our parents I mean, keeping putting so many resources into product development then? And it’s not even like we’re branching out into new markets, making some groundbreaking products. Nope, just shinier versions of the old stuff.

Am: Hum... Can either of you teach me how to write a resume?

Ed: I... uh... was going to ask you the same thing.

--------------------------

Later.

Em: Okay, let’s recap the recent events, shall we?

Odalia and Alador were sat side by side in flimsy wooden chair at the factory’s storage area. Their children loomed over them with stern faces.

Am: First off, you decided to entirely restructure the company, you know, the one with our name in it. And you did so by making all possible wrong choices. Especially putting me as the face and head of marketing.

Ed: Then, secondly, when you realized that wasn’t working due to Mittens, justifiably I might add, wanting to do pretty much anything else with her time. So you two in a strike of parenting brilliance decide that the best way to deal with all of that was not to, oh I don’t know, hire some specialist or anything like that for the position and let her, and us, be teenagers like any normal parent would do. No, instead you think: “Hey, I’ll double down and alienate the one of my children giving me a hard time from the only people she seems to like.”

Al: In our defense...

Em: AND THEN, when one of said people decide to actually do something about, and in a very diplomatic fashion given the circumstances, mind you, you go ahead and try to commit murder in front of a large audience of potential witnesses. Granted, not a particularly morally upstanding audience given the type of products they were trying to buy, but still. Do you have any idea how many people would want a piece of you if you actually hurt the human? You have three of them standing in front of you right now.

Od: Well, Emira dearest, you can’t argue with the numbers. Tonight’s sale was an astounding success.

Am: And she still has her poise despite all the failures... Look, the three of us, we’ve been talking. We somehow are also part of the board, right? Moreover, we are, despite all evidence on the contrary, still employs of this company. So we put things through a vote.

Ed: First off, we’re unionizing. And your first demand is better working conditions...

Od: I’m not putting apple blood fountains in the factory floors. That’s off the table. I already told this Edric. The abominations take a surprising liking to the stuff.

Em: We can discuss the specifics later. We have other topics at hand.

Al: Okay, like what?

Em: You two are out. Actually just you mom. We still need dad for development of new products and stuff.

Od: WHAT? You can’t do this.

Am: Let me rephrase what Emira said: you’re not CEO anymore. She is.

Al and Od: EMIRA?

Ed: Yes, Emira. I’ll be in charge of supply and distribution as well as any other duties dad still had besides research and develop. Mom, you’re the new Mittens. I mean, marketing. You’re in charge of marketing now. Just marketing and literally nothing else. I’m sure we won’t regret giving you this much responsibility. And, by the way. One mistake and we’re hiring Luz for the job. AND we’re giving her enough shares to sit at the board.

Od: *starts chuckling while reaching for a small book in her vest* I can’t say I’m not angry at the three of you, but it is indeed nice to see you trying to take a more active role in the company. But there’s a big flaw to your little coup. You see, according to article 15 of the Blight Industries statute, Alador’s vote, as well as mine...

Al: I’m voting with them, Odalia.

Everyone else turns to look at him, wide eyed.

Al: Look, I’m not ecstatic about this or anything. But at the end of day if Edric is taking half the load off my shoulders then I’ll have the more time in my workshop. And away from them. Odalia, don’t look at me like that, I told you the other day I was wanting us to develop magic powered air fryers. Now I’ll have the time for that. We can tap onto more markets this way, more money.

Od: ... You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.

Al: *sighs* How about Mittens, what will she do now?

Am: Librarian. That’ll be my new job title.

Al: We have no use for a librarian, Amity. You know that, don’t you?

Am: I know. I’m not working here anymore. Gary had been telling me for some time about this internship opening. I start Monday. But don’t go thinking I’ll leave the board. I’m keeping my shares and besides, Ed and Em agreed to keep me as an adviser.

Od: Oh look at our daughter, Alador. Going all out on that daily grind, making the minimum wage. Are you sure you can handle it, Mittens my dear?

Am: Well, you paid me in passive aggressive comments and threats so far. I consider minimum wage a raise if anything.

Od: Whatever you say... In any case. I suppose I’ll now be some sort of glorified secretary then.

Em: What do you mean, mom?

Od: Oh, right. You weren’t there at the time. We struck a big contract, big enough so we won’t need to worry about marketing for the foreseeable future.

Em: What? HOW?

Al: That uhh... That kid, what’s his name again? The new head of the Emperor’s coven. He came in after the sales ended, said we should go around building Frankenstein mercenaries, and that the Emperor would be buying all of our Thanos thingies aaand on top of that the state would fund all our future research.

Ed and Em: Oh... Oh... Ohh Titan... Didn’t he get ahold of Eda’s portal? Mittens, we have to tell Luz.

Am: *chuckles* Yeah, good luck with that, Emperor.

Ed: I... Are you okay? Shouldn’t you be worried?

Am: Eh... I mean... First things first. Yeah, I know he’s building an army to invade the human realm and yeah, I know we’ll be supplying the weaponry and that I should probably give Luz a heads up. But, you know. That’s pretty stupid of him when you think about it.

Ed: What?

Am: I mean, think about it. He is getting a supplier that he knows, for a fact, has a positive connection to his enemies. Meaning it would be in our interest - especially mine, you know, the other Blight with Abomination know how and the one closest to the one human living in the Boiling Isles, as proven today - to put some back doors in all the tech we’ll be selling them. Moreover... Sure humans don’t have magic but they make up for it in other ways. Luz was telling me about her realm the other day and... Well... Let me put it this way: we are not humans, meaning we are not covered by the Geneva convention. Best case scenario once Bellos opens the portal we, not them, become a colony. And humans don’t make a habit of treating their colonies with any decency. So, you know... Anyway. Worst case scenario, they’ll just start pumping napalm, anthrax, mustard gas, and all sorts of fun stuff chemical and biological weapons through the portal. Meaning we’ll die. Painfully. Heck, they can even make good on their anti-nuclear proliferation treaties and just throw it all here and make it go boom. Trust me, that alone will be enough to finish sinking the Titan.

All the other four Blights look at her wide eyed.

Am: Eh... But you know, I’ll go and tell Luz and Eda. Fir witchkind’s sake or whatever. So... See you guys later.

Od: *shaking the shock away from her head* Oh... Quite a hurry to go and see Luz, aren’t we Mittens? *a sly smile forming* I’m sorry... I meant YOUR Luz.

Ed and Em: Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Damn, missed the joke.

Al just nods in agreement.

Am: What are you people talking about?

Od: Oh, it’s nothing really Mittens, my dear child. It’s just that, you seem to be rather attached to her, aren’t you? In a very weird way, but still.

Am: Weird? Weird how? You’re talking non-sense.

Ed: No, Mittens, the lady has a point. I don’t get your thought process tonight either.

Am: I have no idea what...

Ed: No, seriously. I mean, no need to beat around the bush here: you have a gargantuan crush on her. That’s plenty obvious to everyone here.

Am: *blushing* No comments.

Ed: Whatever, I’ll take that to mean you do. So, you see your crush up on the stage. She’s fighting dad’s Thanos thingy. Which, might I add, was being controlled by him. Seriously, what the hell, dude? Is this a way to meet your potential daughter-in-law? Anyway. She’s potentially in mortal danger. And your first thought is: I’m gonna woo her.

Am: That’s... not what I thought...

Em: Yeah, Mittens. Sure. That’s why the first you did was to turn around and start climbing the ladders.

Am: I... They were fighting up there, I wanted to get to close quarters.

Em: Nope. Not buying it.

Ed: We were watching it all unfold Mittens, you started climbing the ladders before, long before, they were up there.

Am: But... the crowd.

Ed: Dispersed pretty quickly, and knowing Abomination magic, as you do, you definitely knew Thanos would have that effect.

Am: I... But... I wanted to fight close quarters... and I wanted... the higher ground.

Em: So... You are up in the pipes, and by then Luz and Thanos are already back in ground level. So you position yourself in the spot with the best lighting and a means for you to quickly climb down - I swear, I’m certain I saw you double checking to make sure you were positioned just right. Then you take your sweet time pulling your hood back up. And finally, then and only then, you go to Luz’s rescue by using your magic. And you do that before you climb down, meaning your magic has enough range, as we’ve all always known, to be effective without the close quarters or the higher.

Ed: Come on, Mittens. Just admit it. You wanted to do a super-hero landing in front of your crush. Come on...

Am: I... Do you think it worked?

Everyone, expect for Amity, looks at Alador.

Al: I dunno, why are you asking me?

Ed: Because somehow out of all of us you’re the one most likely to pick up that sort of stuff.

Al: Right, and I’m also the one least likely to care.

Am: I’M YOUR DAUGHTER.

Em: *taking a deep breath* Okay, lets pause for a second here. Ed, Mittens. Pat yourselves on the back. Come on, do it. Look, I’ll do it too. *begins patting her own back in tandem with her siblings’ more tentative display*

Am: Em... Why are we doing this?

Em: For not succumbing to drugs and alcohol (shrewd ad campaigns on Twitter aside). *Edric and Amity begin patting their backs more enthusiastically, Emira turns to their parents* You know, you two. You should pat yourselves on the back as well. I mean, sure, we’ll need years of therapy to undo all the damage the emotional neglect the both of you show us has caused so far, but no one can say we don’t get plenty of variety.

Al: Are you done being passive aggressive, Emira?

Em: What can I say? I’ve learned from the best. *looks at Odalia, who just rolls her eyes*

Al: *sighing* As for your previous question. The human seemed to be blushing as well. So my best guess is that Amity’s little... spectacle... did work.

Od: See? And you dare say it was a bad idea to put her on marketing.

Am: That’s because I had a reason to care when I was doing all that.

Od: Ohh right, then what do you suggest I had done to make you care about our, emphasis on our, business.

Am, Ed and Em in unison: Pay us for our labor.

Am: I mean, seriously. You guys built a whole business model around Abominations: a.k.a. free labor. Sure you could afford to pay us, a.k.a. self aware creatures that are not (and I’ve checked this) Abominations, something.

Ed: So... again to recap the day. Mom and dad lost their company, Bellos shot himself square in the foot. Hell, even this new coven head pretty much proved his lack of intelligence gathering competence by doing business with us. Today was a failure on every front. Even Luz when you think about it.

Em: Luz?

Ed: Yeah... She trusted... her *points at Odalia*.

Em: Ohh...

Od: HEY! I’m still your mother.

Em: Nominally, maybe. Jury still out on that one. Anyway, that reminds me. I want all our financial books for the past five years i my desk, formerly yours, in two days.

Am: I think my day was pretty successful. I have reason to believe my crush likes me back and I’ll know what a healthy professional and financial life looks like for the first in these 14 groolling and long years of existence. So things are looking up for me. Anyway... Are we done here?

Am: I guess so, why?

Am: Cool. Gonna head out.

Em: Oh, going to let your Luz know of the Emperor’s plan and bask in her presence.

Am: Emira, I swear in the Titan’s name that if you ever address her like that in front of her they will never find your body. But yes, that’s the gist of it.

Em: Fine. Actually, wait up. Lilith is living there now isn’t she? I wanted to talk to her.

Am: Lilith as in Lilith Clawthorne? Eda’s sister? Former head of the Emperor’s Coven? My former mentor? That Lilith?

Em: Yup.

Am: Why, pray tell, do you want to talk to her?

Em: Wanted to hire her. We need a new accountant.

Am: And you thought of her because...?

Em: Lack of options?

Am: I... You know what, fair enough.

Ed: Hold up. I’m coming with. I don’t like being around them *points at Odalia and Alador*.

Am: Sure.

They leaving. Only Odalia and Alador are left in the room.

Al: Wow.

Od: I know.

Al: Just... wow...

Od: I know.

Al: I don’t know how to process any of this. It happened all so fast.

Od: I know.

Al: Like... no sense of pacing at all.

Od: I know, Alador. Titan do I know.

Al: Almost as if everyone’s words were being written by an extra-dimentional entity that reaaally wanted to rant but didn’t want to put out their opinions in a more reasonable manner, and wasn’t even remotely concerned with making it sound like a normal conversation.

Od: I know.

Al: Anyway. We failed as people, didn’t we?

Od: *sighing* I know.

#THE OWL HOUSE #Edric Blight #Luz Noceda #amity blight #odalia blight #emira blight #Alador Blight

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gayenerd · 4 years

Text

An interview with music journalist Paul Zollo. I believe this is from 2000. I’m a sucker for Billie Joe talking about his songwriting process.

By PAUL ZOLLO

SEVEN STORIES ABOVE THE SUNSET STRIP in Hollywood is the Chateau Marmont, an old hotel rife with the ghosts and scandals of Hollywood’s recent and not-so-recent past. Famous for the elegant, old-world discretion it affords all its guests, for decades it’s been a safe harbor for stars seeking to circumvent the squall of media surveillance. It’s where John Belushi died, sadly, back in bungalow three, and where Jim Morrison wrecked his back by swinging Tarzan-like from the roof, using a drain pipe as a vine. Every star, it seems, from Chaplin and Bogart to Dylan and Lennon have hidden out here while in Hollywood. “If you must get in trouble, do it at the Chateau Marmont,” Harry Cohn, the first boss of Columbia Studios, once told William Holden.

So it’s an appropriate setting for Billie Joe Armstrong, the lead singer, songwriter and guitarist of Green Day, to be holding court. Armstrong and the band are no strangers to scandal – they’re the ones who started a mudfight that bordered on insurrection at Woodstock II; they’ve been outspoken about their fondness for drugs and alcohol; they’ve been especially harsh in their expressions of scorn for many other bands; and they’ve frequently “redecorated” hotel suites, bars and Tower Records stores alike with a flair for creative demolition that brings to mind the heady decadence of the Doors and others.

In fact, parallels between Armstrong and Jim Morrison abound. Like the leader of the Doors, Billie Joe is the creative catalyst of his group, but only writes within the fold of his fellow musicians. Like Morrison, Armstrong has been known to walk on the razor’s edge of life, bringing an authentic, expansive passion to every song he sings. He’s also been known to match his inclination to strip his soul bare in song by taking off his clothes in concert. The difference is that when Jim Morrison did it, all hell broke loose, the country was shocked and the singer was arrested. But when Billie Joe does it, he gets acknowledged on the MTV news, Kurt Loder smirks, and that’s about that. Being shocking these days is just not like it used to be.

‘It’s something unpredictable,

But in the end is right

I hope you had the time of your life.”

From “Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)”

By GREEN DAY

Few things seemed more unpredictable than the thought that Green Day would have a Number One hit with a pretty ballad of all things. Even more unlikely would be that the song, officially entitled “Good Riddance” but better known as “Time Of Your Life,” would become as ubiquitous in the American consciousness as the Star Wars theme. Used on “Seinfeld,” two episodes of “E.R.,” and extraneous sporting events (as when Mark MacGuire became the king of baseball’s home-run derby), Green Day’s ballad quickly became more famous than Green Day itself.

“Good Riddance” now stands alongside Springsteen’s “Born In The USA”, Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A.” and Sting’s “Every Breath You Take,” as one of the nation’s most misappropriated hit singles. Like all of those songs, which are much darker if you examine their core than the mainstream ever seemed to recognize, “Good Riddance” actually comes closer to condemnation than the kind of nostalgic celebration for which it’s been used:

“Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial

For what it’s worth, it was worth all the while

I hope you had the time of your life. “

From “Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)”

By GREEN DAY

Though Green Day’s presence on the world stage shifted from popular to astronomical because of this song, many of their old fans felt alienated by their secret heroes’ injection into the mainstream. “[`Time of Your Life’] was a drastic change for us to record,” Billie Joe said. “We knew that there were going to be some people that weren’t going to like it because it’s not a 1-2-3-4-Let’s-go-punk-rock tune. Mike [Dirnt] said, `This is a real beautiful song, who cares what people think?’ So we just went for it. Long term thinking, you know. Punk is not just the sound, the music. Punk is a life-style. We’re just as much punk as we used to be.”

Of course, definitions flow fast and fluid, as purveyors of punk, such as Armstrong, play along the borders of pop. “A lot of punk rock bands are always trying to be so hard all of the time,” he said. “Macho brutality doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a good songwriter. I think that some of the Beatles’ songs are way more punk rock than most punk songs written today. Like the song `Yesterday.’ It’s such a bittersweet song. “

Billie Joe was born in 1972 and grew up in Rodeo, a little Californian town just outside of Berkeley. His father and uncle were both jazz drummers. “I was a guitarist in a house of drummers,” he said. His father died when he was ten, the same year he met a neighbor named Mike Pritchard who shared his passion for making music. Together they decided to drop out of high school to start a band, which they called Sweet Children. It was a decision Billie’s mother encouraged. “My mom sort of let me do whatever I wanted,” he said. “When I quit school, she thought that was a good idea because I was really ambitious to play. So I started touring when I was seventeen.”

Pritchard changed his name to Mike Dirnt, Tre Cool replaced Al Sobrante as official drummer, and they called themselves Green Day, a Bay-area euphemism for a day spent smoking pot. Their first release was an indie EP called 1000 Hours, after which they signed with Lookout Records to make 39/Smooth and Kerplunk. In 1994 they ascended to the major leagues, signing with Reprise, and released Dookie. They soon became an MTV mainstay, and their mudstorm performance that year at Woodstock cemented their reputation as a band on the edge. Three more singles followed, as did sales of more than eight million albums worldwide, and a Grammy Award for Best Alternative Music Performance.

Insomniac was released in the fall of ’95, but instead of going on a European tour as planned to launch it, they elected instead to stay home and write and record more songs. The result was the most popular, and most critically acclaimed album of their career, Nimrod, which included “Time Of Your Life.”

Warning was the new album at the time of this interview, and the impetus for Billie to talk. Inspired by the rich lyricism of Springsteen’s The River and Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home, Green Day went away for a while to write and play the songs before recording them. It’s their first self-produced and most sonically adventurous album to date, blending layers of acoustic guitars in with the electrics, and with some unexpected detours, such as the German beer-hall stomp of “Misery,” and the Clash-meets-Kinks pop-punk of the title song.

“Caution police sign you’d better not cross

Is the cop or am I the one that’s really dangerous?

Sanitation expiration date question everything

Or shut up and be a victim of authority

Warning, live without warning…”

From “Warning”

By GREEN DAY

Today Billie Joe is ensconced within an overstuffed burgundy couch in his hotel suite. Although he’s drinking coffee from china cups, and eating fresh fruit and croissants from a silver tray, he’s remained loyal to the punk lifestyle, and is wearing a black t-shirt and baggy jeans. Prior to our talk, rather than linger in the luxury of his suite, he ducked down into the hotel’s bleak back stairway for a cigarette. Though he’s undeniably a star of the first degree, he’s uncomfortable with such designations, and shuns all the trappings of stardom. As opposed to the Ferraris and Lamborghinis driven by his peers, an old Ford Fairlane remains his vehicle of choice. He did admit to one extravagance, however, which he revealed somewhat sheepishly. “As soon as I could afford it,” he confessed, “I went out and had it primered.”

BLUERAILROAD: You write all the songs together in the band. Do you start songs on your own and bring them in?

BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG: Yeah, sometimes. I’ll come up with the song with the chord changes and the lyrics, and then I bring them into practice, and then we sort of restructure them together. I like to come in with a tune. I’ll just play guitar and sing it for them, and then we start to learn it. And as soon as we start to learn it, we can make changes and come up with a different structure. Move the chorus around, make the verse a little longer. That kind of thing. I definitely like to think of it as a collaboration between the three of us.

Do you always change the songs?

Well, we have a lot of songs. There have been some that I have brought in and nothing really needs to be done. Sometimes I’ll suggest a part that needs to be worked with, and we’ll try some different things. And then they’ll write their bass-lines and drum parts around it.

Do you ever have a problem sharing credit on songs you wrote alone?

Well, we’re a band. We’ve been able to stick through a lot of years because the three of us support each other. The songs come from Green Day, and I like to stick by that. We like to just keep things equal in the band, and I think it’s what has made our band healthy over the years. We give each other respect. There is no one who stands out more than the other one in this group. Especially since we’ve known each other for so long.

These days do you write on electric guitar?

No, on acoustic. I have a Silverine Harmony. But it sounds good. I just have it around the house, so I’ve written most of the songs on it.

Do those songs then shift a lot when you bring them to the band, and play them on electric?

No, because I always have it in the back of my head about the dynamics of electric guitar and drums and bass. Between me and Mike and Tre, I always have that dynamic in my head – what am I going to bring to the table that they’re going to be able to play, and which will have our certain energy. I always keep our energy and our music in mind, sort of subconsciously. But I think that’s the beauty of this. That not only can I play these songs with a band at full volume, but also that I can play them on a cheap, acoustic guitar. And it can have the same kind of impact.

“Warning” would work that way.

Yeah, it does. That kind of came all together at the same time. I think lyrics on this record were really important to me, and to have a well-rounded record as far as what kind of topics I wanted to write about, and sing about. That was one of those songs that seemed to just write itself. It just came really naturally.

Is that unusual for you, the feeling that a song writes itself?

Well, I try to go for inspired moments. But if I want to write a song that sounds like it has a pop kind of edge to it, I really want to be able to say something. I have to say something – it’s vital for me. I can’t just write something that would be sugar-coated, and have a pop song with nice lyrics that go along with what everyone is doing on the radio these days. It’s very important for me to have a message that goes along with the writing. So, you know, what comes to mind for me is a song like “The Ballad of John & Yoko,” where [Lennon] had this really nice sounding song. But the lyrics penetrate like a knife. “They’re gonna crucify me…” That’s kind of nice way — nice, I mean, in an oxymoronic sense – to put forward something you want to attack.

You’ve done that in many songs.

Yeah, I think it adds a sort of demented side a little bit, sort of like a clown in a circus. But it also makes the lyrics a lot stronger. If you take a band like Rage Against The Machine, the music is aggressive, and the lyrics are aggressive at the same time. And I love Rage Against The Machine, but sometimes it feels like you getting bombarded by someone’s else’s point of view. The person is not telling you to think, but what to think. And that’s one thing that I really wanted to come across in the music and the lyrics. To think about the world around you, and not what to think, so to speak. And at the same time, to have my opinions coming through at the same time.

Are you always clear about the meaning of a song while writing?

No. That’s hard. I mean, sometimes I’ll have things in the back of my head that I want to write about. But I never want to come across as pretentious or preachy. So I just wait for my thoughts to settle. To a certain extent, you have to be a little self-righteous and I think it’s healthy. Especially when, nowadays, there’s so much stuff that is about decadence. And when it comes to rebellion, a guy who has a Rolex watch and is driving around in a Porsche, talking about that he really wants something to break, I don’t really think of that as rebellion, I think of that just as a decadent rock star.

Do you have any kind of routine for songwriting?

Last record I was just sort of pounding songs. Anytime I had any inkling of an idea of anything at all, I would just grab my guitar and play it and work on it no matter what the song was like. Whether it was inspired or I just got drunk and started playing. But this time I waited for inspired moments. And I think it took me a long time just because of that. I wanted everything to sound refreshing, and something that would make you want to turn it up a little more.

Did you have times when you tried to work and nothing would come?

Oh yeah. You get frustrated. You feel, “Man, I just want to write a fucking song.” And sometimes it’s just not there. And you can’t dwell on that when that happens. You have to just let it go.

I don’t ever want to try to outdo myself. I feel like if you try to outdo yourself from the last thing, instead of just working on your inspiration, I think the music kind of suffers a little bit, sometimes. Sometimes I’ll just get a very general idea about the kind of song I want to write. And I’ll just sort of store it in the back of my mind and see what comes out. It can come out in five minutes, it can come out in five days, five years, five decades.

Are there songs you worked on for years?

Yeah. “Longview” was one that we worked on for years. We knew what we wanted to write about. I told Mike to write a bass line and one day I came home. This is when we lived in the same house. He had just dropped some acid (laughs) and he said, “Listen to this.” And I said, “Okay, I guess it sounds good.” He came up with this bass line that really worked well, so we ended up practicing and came up with the song.

Are there many songs you start that you don’t finish?

Yes. And I’ll just wait for the right time and the right place for it. There are some songs I finish but then I think it’s not right for the record we’re working on. There’s a couple of songs like that off of Nimrod. “Time of My Life” had been written a couple of years before.

That song resounded in enormously with the public. Was it just a fluke, or did you sit down with the intention of writing that kind of song?

Both. I think that anyone can sit down and write a song. Whether or not it’s any good is another thing altogether. You know, there’s no school you can go to that will help you learn how to become a songwriter. But you can sit down and do it. Especially with rock & roll. But to put something down that is actually really great, it does go beyond you a little bit, and sometimes it takes patience.

Do you write all the time?

Yeah. Whether it’s good or bad, I don’t know. Or if it’s appropriate for what kind of idea or sound that we want to get across on the record.

Where do you think the great songs come from?

I don’t know. I really don’t. It comes from somewhere deep down inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. It’s kind of like seeing a shrink or something. (Laughs) There can be a lot of anger, or sadness, or joy, that you had but you didn’t even know you really had – but it can all come out. You feel a connection with it, and so other people can, too. You strike a nerve.

Does songwriting get easier the more you do it?

I think so. I think you definitely learn more as you go. I think you find new ways to motivate yourself. You test yourself a little bit more and see what comes about. And you challenge yourself in new ways to see what comes out. You learn new ways to get the engines going. But whether or not it does get easier, it’s what I do. And I love doing it.

#'I don’t ever want to try to outdo myself'#HE'S SUCH A FUCKING LIAR #at least he knows the music suffers from it #BUT HE'S A GODDAMN LIAR #article #articles #interview #billie joe armstrong

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

The NaruSaku post

@perfectkidalienpatrol asked me a two questions a couple weeks ago one about restructuring Kingdom Hearts DDD and 3 to be more emotional which you find right here < [it took time, please read. Also leave a reply on this one because it also took way too much time. Thank you 😅]

The second question is about how I would write NaruSaku, which is this post. [I rewatched 60 percent of Naruto Shippuden for this. I’m not playing games here.]

I’m gonna follow the same rules I did for KH more or less. I’m not changing 90% of any major events just certain people surrounding it and I’ll add stuff that’s not unreasonable. Most of the things I’m about to say is gonna be from Sakura’s perspective since Naruto is already in love with her and have a good of his feelings towards her. I’d also like to take a moment and say I’m a person who doesn’t believe Sakura is weak or useless, but she’s sorely underused. What makes this bad is her screen time is almost always to make others around her have more of an effect or her doing something stupid because plot. Okay, let’s get the big stuff out of the way first that lays the ground work.

Part 1 of Naruto is unchanged. (Rip Sakura, she’s still of no use here.)

The start of Shippuden, all the way up to Pain is basically the same. The thing about NaruSaku is there’s plenty of ground work in the show. The series definitely shows Sakura warming up and caring about Naruto in a variety of ways. The entire blueprint is there, Kishimoto just decided to go with Hinata.

During the Rasenshuriken training, Kakashi grabs the food pill basket from Sakura and tells her stay. Since Naruto’s training is more trial by fire and repetition, Kakashi uses his free time to train Sakura. Combat, a little ninjitsu, even tricks about genjutsu and things he’s learned about sharingan. (You know, sensei stuff)

Neji will live for obvious reasons.

Okay, so my whole thought process really starts at the point in the show where Sakura falsely tells Naruto that she loves him. At this point, the show has given tons of scenes of Sakura healing Naruto, defending the way he is, acknowledged his growth, and has him as a strong motivator do whatever she can whenever she can. All while being emotionally torn because of her love for Saskue and being faced with the reality that Naruto has been in love with her forever. The scene plays out the same with Naruto not believing her and the Saskue murder team leaving. Sakura doesn’t let it show she is deeply conflicted about telling that lie. Was it a lie? It certainly wasn’t completely truthfully. Her thoughts and feelings on Naruto had been rapidly changing and confusing her little by little since he returned to the village. All she was certain of was that Naruto was a person that had become very important to her and she didn’t want to cause him any more suffering.

Fast forwarding to Sakura encountering Saskue, the encounter is only different by Sakura confessing her honest feelings to him right on the iron bridge, telling him how she’ll join his side if he can’t find it in himself to stop being a criminal. She’s unknowingly under a genjutsu that’s letting Sakura see him in front of her, pretending to care about this conversation while he’s actually about to chidori her from behind. Sakura catches on to the trick a bit too late but was fortunately saved by Kakashi. Naruto eventually shows up, the fight happens, and we get the scene where Naruto tells Saskue that they well both die the next time they fight. Two very important things come out of this entire event. The first is Sakura’s feelings for Saskue are now shattered after he tried to kill her twice, while the other thing is Sakura’s fear of Naruto’s prediction coming true.

We get back to the village and everyone starts going their separate ways except for Naruto and Sakura, because she tells him to stay back for a moment. She takes this moment to apologize to him for what she said. The guilt about the entire thing builds more and more as she continues her apology until Sakura gets so frustrated with her own actions, or lack of action. Naruto interrupts her apology before she got too far gone into self loathing and sorrow and tells her that it’s okay. Yes, his promise is a big reason for motivating him but Naruto is also in it for himself and tries to lift some of the guilt Sakura has for all of this. In the process he ends up mentioning just how much she actually does for everyone, especially him; which only makes her feel more conflicted about everything since all of his feelings are on the table clearly for her. Sakura mentally decides she having such a kind person like him always supporting her was something she wasn’t close to being worthy of, so she would strive to be that person. Sakura decides to do one more selfish act though, she asks Naruto to stay alive through all of this. Naruto simply looks at the girl that is clearly concerned about all of this and says yes, despite not knowing just how sure he can keep this promise.

At this point in the anime there’s a lot of war preparations. In one scene there’s Sakura looking at photos of the gruesome tragedies that she should expect to see as a medical ninja. A head nurse also explains how sometimes you have to prioritize who to save. Sakura then thinks to herself in a crazy circumstance where both Naruto and Saskue are fatally wounded, who would she rush to? I’m keeping this scene but giving it new context. This thought plagues her mind not because of love, but because desire. Sakura hates to admit it but she still very much hates the idea of Saskue dying. Like Naruto, she very much wants him to come back, regardless of the heartache she feels whenever she thinks about the boy who barely gave a damn. But Sakura also has made the goal to do all she can to support Naruto the right way and the thought of leaving him to die is ludicrous. Sakura shakes off the crazy thought and focuses on the task at hand. None of those ideas matter if she can’t get stronger. I like the idea of her hitting a rut someone like Ino or Shizune coming to her aid since Tsunade is busy. One of the women reinvigorates her drive by telling Sakura how Naruto is probably pushing himself to the limit as they speak. [Nine tails is beating him up] Not just for his friends, but for the world. Sakura takes that to heart, protecting everyone is the bar, not just Naruto and her friends. Sakura decides now would be a good time and take a step back, going off to train by herself until it was actually time to head into war. Kakashi would personally be the one to get her when that time came, surprised to see a very specific part of their previous training had gotten much better along with her chakra control.

On the Naruto side of things, all the same events happen. The only thing I would add for my own personal amusement would be Naruto mentioning Sakura to his mom and how they’re similar, but Sakura has no interest in him. Kushina laughs and tells him if Sakura really is anything like herself then Naruto can’t be too sure of anything until it happens. He doesn’t understand that all but nods anyways.

War starts! All the cool fights happen and the filler. All of this is same obviously because so much is going on, including injuries. Naruto eventually joins the war and sends his clones to help everywhere. The location where Sakura is stationed is under severe condition, to the point it’s about to fall apart. Injured ninja and attacks have relentlessly assaulted the place in one form or another and the medics are running on fumes. Sakura herself is barely hanging on as another wave of injured people are in desperate need of healing. Supplies are diminished to almost nothing, staff has gotten hurt, and more white zetsu were said to be headed their way. Sakura took a moment to look at the chaos of war. The overwhelming feeling of it, the pain, how everything just kept going until something gave out. She was about to give out. Her body exhausted from being up for days treating people was finally catching up with her mind in thinking about shutting down, until she thought about Naruto. She wasn’t sure why she did, but he popped into her head, as well as the numerous times he’s pushed passed the breaking point to the finish line. Then she remembered his praise about her and her vow to catch up with him. Not yet, she couldn’t be done yet. Not while there was still everyone to protect. Sakura rallied the people she could to both attack and defend what they had left. Somehow, through all the madness, the injured had been treated and another wave was taken out. More had to be done and all who were able to move were more than willing to help the ninja that had saved their life. Unfortunately, a zetsu had snuck into the ranks and was heading right for Sakura who was far to tired to defend herself from the attack she saw coming. If she got hurt then it was game over for this unit and her, now that they had basically nothing. Sakura should’ve died on the spot but a Naruto clone had finally arrived in the nick of time, beating the zetsu in an instant. Sakura couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her body gives out and Naruto catches her in a similar way Minato catches Kushina. Naruto tells everyone how awesome it was that they held out so long and they rightfully give Sakura a majority of the credit. Naruto starts to tell her how amazing that is but she passes out. He simply chuckles and tells all of them to follow her lead. He’ll step in now and let them rest. It’s his turn to protect everyone.

The next time the show cuts back to this location is when reports of Naruto clones suddenly vanishing after many tremors and explosions have happened, giving Sakura an uneasy feeling. Minutes later word reaches them that the real Naruto is fighting the masked man and Madara. Many ninja from everywhere go ready to race off to this final battle. Sakura’s had the chance to rest and is ready to give her all in any way she can, along with so many others.

[Cool shit happens! The allied shinobi force appears!]

Neji gets injured protecting Hinata and Naruto, bringing him right to deaths door and nobody is around to help him. Naruto looks around to see all the death and destruction that leads to Obito into giving his speech. So basically I just changed this scene from Neji being dead, to Neji dying and having to be left there; causing everyone to simply accept that they have to press on and that Neji isn’t going to make it. We still get the moment of Hinata snapping Naruto out of despair and Kakashi’s elaboratetion on his meaning behind the statement “I will not allow my comrades to die.” That way we still get Kurama motivating Naruto, causing Naruto to snap Lee out of his despair and then outcome plays out like it usually does; the people rallying to attack the ten tails again with the Nine Tails Power given to them. Naruto spends up all his chakra protecting everyone and gets badly injured. I had forgotten Sakura literally gave a speech to motivate ninja to do their best protecting him while she healed him, so that was nice to see.

The Hokage show up. People are hyped. Minato asks Naruto if that’s his girlfriend, to which Naruto says yes like the goofy fool he is. Sakura still hits him for it, but blushes. Minato clearly sees a lot of Kushina in Sakura, but says vocally, instead of in his head. Naruto thinks about his conversation with his mom. Sakura just tries to stay focus.

Tiny Rant-I can’t wrap my head around why this scene actually exists. This happens after Neji’s death, a cornerstone event that pushes NaruHina greatly. Why would Kishimoto almost immediately swing back in the exact opposite direction! It paints the picture that while Naruto is extremely grateful for Hinata’s actions, Sakura is still the only girl he is interested in! Neji died for NaruHina like five minutes ago!

Saskue shows up like a cool guy. We get the moment of Naruto telling Sakura to stay back after he’s fully healed; to which Sakura tells both of them how that’s not gonna happen. Team 7 is back! Another moment I don’t have to change because the show flat out shows how happy Sakura is to be standing next to the two most important men her life. She’s by their side and fighting, they don’t feel out of reach. Sakura has her team back for once and is protecting everyone thanks to Tsunade’s training. Finally, things feet right. Until they don’t.

The battle progresses naturally. Eventually the Kagoshima show up, Obito becomes a Jinjuriki, Madara is being terrible, etc. Things are spiraling out of hand pretty quickly but everyone keeps pushing as hard as they can. Then the worst happens, the crazy scenario Sakura didn’t think was possible has suddenly became reality. She feels both Naruto and Saskue’s chakra fade away, they’re down. Madara has taken both of them down. However, now isn’t time to despair on that fact. Every second matters. Two people, fatally injured, only enough time save one. The one she promised to protect to protect, or the one she desired to come back home. Time feels like it’s come to a stand still. Sakura didn’t want to imagine a world without either of them, then it hits her instantly. Sakura has been living in a world without Saskue for years now, but Naruto, the agony of a world without him gives her an immense sorrow in her heart she refused to ever feel again. It was the same sorrow she felt when Saskue left that night years ago. The sorrow of the one you love leaving you. Sakura realizes that she does in fact love Naruto, and she isn’t about to let it fade. She will keep her promise. Sakura rushes to go save him, fearing she’s wasted enough time as it is. In actually, Sakura had made that decision in less than second. She had been running his way the moment his chakra stopped.

With the help of Gaara and Minato, Sakura is managed to save Naruto. Minato has been watching the worry the girl tried to hide and stared again how much she was like Kushina. He then thanks her for looking after his son. Sakura corrects him, giving Minato thanks for bringing someone who cares so much about her and support her into this world, despite the many slip ups and pain she has inflicted on Naruto. Minato tells her that he didn’t have to be around long to know his son must feel same sentiment towards her, if not greater. They get informed that Saskue has been recovered and receiving medical aid. Sakura feels a weight lift from her shoulders. Both of them, she still in a world with both of them.

[More craziness happens! Night Guy!!!!!! All the hype stuff!]

Naruto and Saskue are back in action! Naruto save Guy, then he gives Kakashi an eye. Everyone is impressed, but not as impressed as the moment he senses that Neji isn’t dead yet and heals him to the point he’ll live; Neji is still completely out of commission though, but it’ll be quite the surprise for Hinata, her father, and Team Guy.

More of the same stuff happens all the way up and through Kaguya. Sakura gets a little bit of emotional whiplash by Saskues actions. One minute he’s looking out for himself, the next he’s actually saves her from a threat. It’s a very confusing couple of minutes. It’s welcomed though, it’s like old times. Things just might get back to some since of it in Sakura’s eyes.

[He is so rude! Still love him though.]

Now we’re gonna skip to after Kaguya is beaten. Team 7 has saved the world. Now they just have to release the people, except Saskue is still on his nonsense. Naruto confronts Saskue about his plan to kill the Kage. Sakura could feel her heart sink. They were going to fight again. If that happened then Naruto’s prediction might come true, they would die. Naruto would die. Sakura couldn’t stand still and ran in between the two unexpectedly. Sakura pleaded to Saskue to just stop for once in his life. That if he ever cared about her and Naruto in any form, then the fighting would stop here; reminding him of what Naruto said about dying. Saskue takes a step closer and Sakura’s tearfully eyes hardened. This wasn’t going to be like last time. Sakura wasn’t going to hesitate to use force and Saskue could tell. “You really are annoying.” He says before activating a genjutsu, but it doesn’t work on her. This was it, the exact thing her training with Kakashi and by herself had been about. Constant days of intense chakra control and being trapped in various visual genjutsu that Sakura had to learn resist/breakout of. Saskue had made his answer clear, but Sakura refused to let him dismiss her like that and charged at him. She knew she was outmatched. She knew that there was only so much she could actually do against him, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying. Sakura was going to stand up properly to Saskue and give everything she had to prevent an unavoidable fight. The fire in her was immense, but the fight was over in no time, ending with Saskue knocking her out from behind like when he first left her behind. Naruto was pissed and Kakashi rushed to her. All that effort and pleading from someone who wanted nothing more than to be by her comrades, tossed to the side like a leaf in the wind. The final confrontation had begun. Naruto vs Saskue.

[One exceptional fight 10/10 fight later]

Sakura has woken up and is racing to the Final Valley in absolute terror, along with Kakashi behind her. He didn’t show it but he was fearing the worst as well. He could see tears fly off of Sakura as she took off. Her mind was flooding and rejecting thoughts all at once the whole way there. All she wanted was the reality of the outcome. Whatever it was, she’d have to face it. What she faced was a miracle. The ability to save both of her friends who were definitely battered and broken, but alive. The fighting was finally over. Saskue apologized to her, noticing just how angry she stil was through her tearfully relieved expression. Sakura told him to shut up. The emotional rollercoaster she was dealing with was crazy enough as it is.

Fast forward to Team 7 at the Hidden Leaf Gate to see Saskue leave. Instead of Sakura asking to join, she walks up to him with confidence, giving both a playful and serious attitude. She holds her fist out and taps his chest. “Get into trouble and I’ll stand in your way again to knock the sense back into you.” Naruto’s jaw drops hearing that. Saskue smile then flicks her forehead. “Still annoying, thank you.” Sakura can’t help but smile back. Naruto gives Saskue his old headband and then the man sets off.

Naruto lets out a huge sigh as he walks back into the village with Sakura. He feels exhausted from the whole legal experience but there was more things to be done, but first, he was starving. He started waving goodbye to Sakura until she asks to go too, offering to pay. Naruto was shocked. His ears had to be playing tricks. He turned back around to see Sakura not directly looking at his face but she clearly talking to him. He could tell her face was a little pink too. “You know, like a date...” Sakura said, walking past him. Naruto stood motionless for a couple of seconds before catching up with her. “How about we go halfies?” Naruto asked. He had asked this same question when he asked her on a ramen date so long ago. Sakura remembers this and can’t help but giggle. The fact that she had rejected such a gesture before was embarrassing to say the least, now it was too her benefit and it was still dumb. The more things change, the more they stay the same. “It’s a date.”

The the tail end of the show where time skips gives us how they continued to grow closer and do these little dates until the moment Sakura tells Naruto that she loves him one moonlit night by the training field or academy swing. This time those words are real, and Naruto gets emotional because he finally gets to say those words back, their promises fulfilled. The final episode is their marriage. The start of their new and strongest promise to each other.

There, I’m done. In summary, what if Sakura stopped liking a person because they tried killing her and everyone she cared about. You know, sane people stuff. She’s a smart girl with critical thinking skills and able to blossom in many areas in her life, and yet the series didn’t let her fully exlpore or evolve it in the one area that arguably mattered the most. How her relationships with Naruto and Saskue. They left it one note even though many scenes and articles point into the direction of her affection towards Naruto was growing. They even paralleled her with Kushina. It’s so weird to lay all that ground if that isn’t the route. Those moments of romantic growth could’ve gone to Hinata, the one with nearly zero interaction throughout the series. I can only think of four scenes, two of them being in part 1 of Naruto. It’s weird.

Side note:If anyone is having a hard time believing Sakura could learn a way to resist genjutsu, Deidara did it with one of his eyes to deal with Itachi, and also didn’t fall of Saskue’s. You can not convince me Sakura wouldn’t learn a way, someone with far more control and an affinity for that kind of thing. Especially with the help of Kakashi. Also it’s just very thematic that the two people Saskue wanted to push away the most, could see right through him and render one of his major things useless.

#naruto uzumaki #naruto ships #naruto shippuden #narusaku #naruto talk #ask me stuff #anime #sakura haruno #saskue uchiha #naruto

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The Weekend Warrior 10/1/21: VENOM: LET THERE BE CARNAGE, THE ADDAMS FAMILY II, THE MANY SAINTS OF NEWARK, TITANE, MAYDAY, THE JESUS MUSIC

Yeah, so I haven’t had the time over the past couple weeks to write a column, and I kind of hate that fact, especially since I’m coming up on a pretty major milestone for me writing a weekly box office column and reviewing movies. In fact, that milestone comes next week! And once again, I’m struggling to get through the movies I was hoping to watch and write about this week, because I’ve been out of town and once again, very busy over the weekend. Let’s see how far I get...

Before we get to this week’s wide releases, I’m excited to say that my local arthouse movie theater, The Metrograph, is finally reopening for in-person screenings, and they’re kicking things off with a 4k restoration of Andrez Zulawski’s 1981 thriller, Possession, starring Sam Neill and Isabell Adjani, who won a Best Actress prize at Cannes for her performance in the film. I actually saw this at the Metrograph a few years back, and Metrograph Pictures, the distribution arm of the company is now distributing the 4k restoration. There’s a lot of exciting things ahead at Metrograph, including an upcoming four-film Clint Eastwood retrospective, including White Hunter, Black Heart (1990) and A Perfect World (1991) this Friday. Also, Lingua Franca director Isabel Sandoval will be showing her fantastic film from 2020 (a rare chance to see it in a theater and I’ll be there!) as well as program a number of other favorites of hers. Sunday will have screenings of Ingmar Berman’s Scenes from a Marriage (1973) in its full four plus hour glory, Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park (1993) and John Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness (1994).. In other words, the Metrograph is back!

Moving over to the weekend’s three wide releases, the first one up being Sony’s VENOM: LET THERE BE CARNAGE (Sony Pictures) with Tom Hardy returning as Eddie Brock aka Venom, joined by Woody Harrelson as the psychotic symbiote, Carnage. Taking over the directing reins is Andy Serkis, who has only directed two other movies, Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle and Breathe, but as an actor, he’s been heavily involved with the CG VFX (and performance capture) needed to bring the characters in this Marvel anti-hero movie to life.

Venom has been one of Spider-Man’s most popular villains and sometimes allies for quite a few decades now, starting out life as a cool black costume Spider-Man found on a strange planet during the first “Secret Wars,” which turned out to be an alien symbiote that had malicious intentions. Spider-Man got the costume off of him but it then linked up with Eddie Brock, a sad-sack journalist whose emotions drove the alien symbiote to become the Venom we known and (mostly) love, thanks to one Todd McFarlane. Venom continued to play a large part in the Spider-Man books before getting his own comics, and not before a super-villain was created for him in Cletus Kasady, a vicious serial killer whose infection by the symbiote turns him into Carnage. And that’s who Harrelson is playing.

Being a sequel, we do have some basis to go on, although the original Venom movie, released in early October 2018, also arrived at a time when it was only the second time the character of Venom was brought to the big screen -- the first time being Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 3, in which the character was received without much love as Ryan Reynold’s Deadpool in X-Men Origins: Wolverine. And yet, Venom did great, opening with $80.2 million and grossing $213 million domestically, which is more than enough to greenlight a sequel. (It made over double that amount overseas, too.) For comparison, the Wolverine prequel opened with $85 million but at the beginning of summer, so it quickly tailed away with other movies coming out after it. Venom: Let There Be Carnage has to worry about the new James Bond opening a week later, so it very likely could be a one-and-done, opening decently but quickly dropping down as other big movies are released in October (basically one a week).

I’ve already seen the movie, and by the time you read this, reviews will already be up --including my own at Below the Line. Social media reactions seem to not be so bad though, so maybe it’ll get better reviews than its predecessor, which was trashed by critics, receiving only a 30% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. But if you look at the fan ratings, they’re higher with 81%, although it’s hard not to be

I’m thinking that bearing COVID in mind and the law of depreciation since the previous movie, Venom: Let There Be Carnage will probably be good for around $50 million this weekend, maybe a little more, but however it’s received, I expect it to drop significantly next week, though a total domestic gross of $135 to 140 million seems reasonable.

Another strong sequel to kick off October is the animated THE ADDAMS FAMILY II (MGM), which is following up the 2019 hit for MGM/UA Releasing with most of the voice cast returning, including Oscar Isaac, Charlize Theron, Chloe Grace Moretz, and Finn Wolfhard, as well as Nick Kroll, Snoop Dogg, Martin Short, Catherine O’Hara, and Bette Midler voicing the popular characters from the New Yorker cartoons, a popular ‘60s TV series, and two Barry Sonnenfeld movies from the ‘90s.

The 2019 animated film was a pretty solid hit for the newly-launched UA Releasing, grossing $100 million domestic after a $30.3 million opening, making it one of MGM’s biggest hits since it was restructured under UA and became its own distributor again. Who knows what’s going to happen with Amazon’s plans on buying MGM and whether the latter will remain a distribution wing, but MGM still has a number of movies out this year that likely will be awards contenders. But that doesn’t mean much for The Addams Family II, which will try to get some of those people who paid to see the original movie in theaters back to see the sequel… and if they’re not going to theaters, MGM is once again offering the movie day-and-date on VOD much like they did with last year’s Bill and Ted Face the Music, which opened much earlier in the pandemic (late august, 2020), so it far fewer options to see it in theaters compared to this animated sequel.

It’s highly doubtful that The Addams Family II was going to open anywhere near to $30 million even if there wasn’t a pandemic, and it wasn’t on VOD just because MGM just doesn’t seem to be marketing the movie as well as its predecessor. You can blame COVID if you want, but it’s also the fact they’re distributing the company’s first James Bond movie in six years, No Time To Die, on their own vs. through another distributor, ala the last few Daniel Craig Bonds. But we’ll talk more about that next week, since that’s going to be an important movie to help cover MGM’s expenses for the rest of 2021. (I haven’t had a chance to see this yet, but it’s embargoed until Friday, so wouldn’t be able to get a review into the column regardless.)

We’ve seen quite a few family hits over the past few months even when the movies were already on streaming/VOD, but parents are probably being a bit more careful with kids back in school, many younger kids still not vaccinated, and the Delta variant still not quite under control. Because of those factors, I think The Addams Family II is more likely to do somewhere between $15 and 18 million its opening weekend, maybe more on the lower side.

Third up is THE MANY SAINTS OF NEWARK (New Line/WB), David Chase’s prequel to his hit HBO series, The Sopranos, which went off the air in 2004 but still finds fans on the new HBO Max streamer. Ironically, this prequel will air on the streamer at the same time as it's getting a theatrical release, which probably won't be a very tough choice for fans.

Chase has reunited with director Alan Taylor, who won a Primetime Emmy for his work on the show in 2007 before moving onto other popular shows like HBO's Game of Thrones. Taylor has had a bit of a rough career in film, though, having directed Marvel Studios’ sequel, Thor: The Dark World, a movie that wasn't received very well although there were rumors that Taylor butted heads with the producers and maybe didn't even finish the movie. He went on to direct Terminator Genesys, which honestly, I can't remember if it was the worst Terminator movie, but it was pretty bad.

What's interesting is that because this is a prequel set in the '70s and '80s, none of the actors from the show appear on it, but it does star Alessandro Nivola, a great actor in one of his meatiest roles for a studio movie. It also introduces Michael Gandolfini, son of the late James Gandolfini (who played Tony Soprano, if you didn't know), playing the teenage Tony, plus it has great roles for the likes of Jon Bernthal (as Tony's father), Vera Farmiga (playing Tony's mother), Corey Stoll (playing the younger "Junior” Soprano), and Lesile Odom Jr, as the Sopranos key adversary, even though he ends up coming across like the good guy of the movie. It also stars Billy Magnussen, who oddly, also has a key role in next week's No Time to Die.

I'm sure there's quite a bit of interest in seeing where Tony came from and to learn more about his family, many who were dead long before the events of the HBO show, but will that be enough to get them into theaters when they already have HBO? I already reviewed the movie for Below the Line, and reviews are generally positive, which might get people more interested in this prequel.

As with most of Warner Bros’ movies this year, Many Saints will also debut on HBO Max and unlike some of the studio’s other 2021 offerings, it will actually make more sense to watch this one on the streamer since that’s how most people watched The Sopranos. That seems like a killer for Many Saints, and it’s likely to keep it opening under $10 million, where it might have done better on a different weekend (like sometime over the last two weeks).

This is what I have this weekend’s top 10 looking like:

1. Venom: Let There Be Carnage (Sony) - $50.4 million N/A

2. The Addams Family II (MGM/UA Releasing) - $16.5 million N/A

3. The Many Saints of Newark (New Line/WB) - $9 million N/A

4. Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (Marvel/Disney) - $7.5 million -44%

5. Dear Evan Hansen (Universal) - $4.1 million -45%

6. Free Guy (20th Century/Disney) - $3.3 million -30%

7. Jungle Cruise (Disney) - $1.1 million -35%

8. Candyman (Universal) - $1.3 million -48%

9. Cry Macho (Warner Bros.) - $1 million -52%

10. Malignant (Warner Bros.) - .7 million -53%

Opening in select cities is French filmmaker Julia (Raw) Ducournau’s TITANE (Neon), the genre thriller that won this year’s coveted Palme D’Or at the Cannes Film Festival. It stars Agathe Rouselle as a young woman who has an interesting relationship with automobiles, but she also has psychotic tendencies that leaves a trail of bodies behind her. On the run, she decides to pretend she’s the missing son of a fireman (Vincent Lindon), who has been missing for 10 years, and things just get weirder from there.

I honestly wasen’t sure what to expect from this although I do remember walking out of Ducournau’s cannibal movie, Raw, just because it was so gross, even though so many of my colleagues and friends swear by the movie, and this one, for that matter. Sure, there’s a certain “prove it” factor to me watching a movie that wins the Palme D’Or, because it’s very rare that I like the movies that do win that benchmark cinema award.

After a flashback to Agathe’s character Alexia when she was an obstinate young girl kicking the back seat of her father as he’s driving. They crash and she’s forced to get surgery that puts an odd looking piece of metal in her head. Decades later, she seems to be a pseudo-stripper at weird punk rock car show -- I guess they do those things different in France -- and hooking up with a fellow “model” afterwards. Agathe is actually a very popular model/dancer but when one fan gets too grabby, she pulls a knitting needle out of her hair and stabs it through his ear, killing him. Oh, yeah, she then has sex with a car and seemingly gets pregnant, but that only happens later. First, she goes on a bit of a killing spree and then goes on a run and decides that by strapping up her breasts and breaking her nose, she can pass off this fire captain’s son… and it works!

So the second half deals with acting great Vincent Lindon’s absolutely bonkers steroid-addicted man who seems to be sexually attracted to his own son, and most of his fellow firefighters knows that he’s gay but in the closet, but I’m honestly not sure what that matters. He’s a pretty disgusting character whose 70-year-old ass we see way too much of, and even those who might find Rouselle to be quite fetching, there’s a certain point where her nudity is not alluring but quite horrifying.

Oh, and at this time, Alexia (or Adrien, as she’s now going) has also gotten significantly pregnant, but it’s not a normal pregnancy because what should be milk from her breasts seems to some sort of motor oil. That’s because she FUCKED A CAR earlier in the movie!!! What do you expect when you fuck a car and don’t use protection, girlie? The fact Alexia/Adrien is trying to hide the fact she’s a pregnant woman from a station full of men isn’t even particularly disturbing. The part that really got me was when she broke her own nose to pass off as this guy’s son -- I actually had to look away for that part.

Listen I’m no prude, and I think I can handle most things in terms of horror and gore, but Titane just annoyed me, because it felt like Ms Ducournau was doing a lot of what we see more for shock value than to actually drive the story forward. There just doesn’t seem to be much point to any of it, and once the movie gets to the firehouse, and we see her interaction (as a young man) with her “father” and his colleagues, it just gets more grueling.

It’s as if Ducournau had watched a lot of movies by the likes of Cronenberg or David Lynch, or more likely Nicolas Refn or Lars von Trier, and thought, “I could be just as strange and horrific as those men… let’s see what people think of this.” And way too many people fell for it, including the Cannes jury. While I normally would approve of any good body horror movie, especially one with cinematography, score and musical selections as good as this one, I doubt I’d ever want to watch this movie again. And therefore, I don’t think I can recommend this movie to anyone either, at least no one I want to remain my friend.

As far as the movie’s box office, NEON is opening the movie in 562 theaters to build on buzz from various film festivals, including the New York Film Festival earlier this week. I think it should be good for half a million this weekend, although maybe it'll surprise me like NEON's release of Parasite a few years back. I just don't see this getting into the top 10 but maybe just outside it.

And then we have a few more movies that I got screeners for but just couldn’t find the time to watch, but might do so once I finish this verdammt column.

The faith-based doc THE JESUS MUSIC (Lionsgate) by the Erwin Brothers (I Can Only Imagine, I Still Believe) takes a look at the rise of Christian Contemporary Music through artists like Amy Grant and Stryper and everything in between, featuring lots of interviews of the artists’ trials and triumphs. Even though there isn’t much CCM I ever listen to, I’m still kind of curious about this one, since I generally like music docs and this is guaranteed not to be the sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll of most of them. I have no idea how wide Lionsgate intends to release this but it certainly can be fairly wide, because the Erwins have delivered at least one giant hit for Lionsgate, and I Still Believe may have been another one if not for the pandemic. It actually opened on March 13, just days before movie theaters shut down across the country, so it's little surprise it only made $7 million domestic. That said, the acts in this one have a lot of fans, and if Lionsgate does release The Jesus Music into 1,000 theaters or so (which is very doable), then I would expect it would make between $1 and 2 million, which would be enough to break into the Top 10.

I haven't seen any of the movies based on Anna Todd's YA romance novels but the third of them, AFTER WE FELL, will play in about 1,311 theaters on Thursday i.e. tonight through Fathom Events, and may or may not continue through the weekend. These movies just kind of show up, and again, having not seen any of them, I'm not sure what kind of audience they have, but this one stars Josephine Langford and Hero Fiennes, as well as Stephen Moyer, Mira Sorvino and Arielle Kebbel with Castille Landon directing.

Grace Van Patten (Under the Silver Lake) stars in Karen Cinorre’s action-fantasy film MAYDAY (Magnolia), playing Ana, a young woman who is transported to a “dreamlike and dangerous” coastline where she joins a female army in a never-ending war where women lure men to their deaths. It also stars Mia Goth, Havana Rose Liu, Soko, Théodore Pellerin and Juliette Lewis. It will be in theaters and On Demand this Friday.

The great Tim Blake Nelson stars in Potsy Ponciroli’s action-Western OLD HENRY (Shout! Studios/Hideout) about a widowed farmer and son who take in an injured man with a satchel full of cash only to have to fend off a posse who come after the man, claiming to be the law. Not sure who to trust, the farmer has to use his gun skills to defend his home and the stranger.

The romantic-comedy FALLING FOR FIGARO (IFC Films) is the new movie from Australian filmmaker Ben Lewin (The Sessions), who I’ve interviewed a few times, and he’s a really nice chap. This one stars Danielle Macdonald, Hugh Skinner, and Joanna Lumley, and it will be in theaters and On Demand this Friday. This rom-com is set in the world of opera singing competitions with Macdonald playing Millie, a brilliant young fund manager who decides to chase her dream of being an opera singer in the Scottish Highlands. She begins vocal training lessons with a former opera diva, played by Lumley, where she meets Max, a young man also training for that competition. Could love blossom? This actually sounds like my kind of movie, so I’ll definitely try to watch soon.

The second season of “Welcome to Blumhouse” the horror movie anthology kicks off on Amazon Prime Video on Friday with the first two movies, Maritte Lee Go’s Black as Night (which I’ve seen) and Gigi Saul Guerrero’s Bingo Night (which I haven’t), and actually I’ll have an interview with Ms. Go over at Below the Line possibly later this week. The former stars Ashja Cooper as a teen girl living in Louisiana who has a bad experience with homeless vampires, along with her best friend (Fabrizio Guido).

Also, Antoine Fuqua and Jake Gyllenhaal’s remake of the Danish film THE GUILTY will begin streaming on Netflix starting Friday after premiering at TIFF a few weeks back. I never got around to reviewing it, but it’s pretty good, maybe a little better than the original movie but essentially the same. I’d definitely recommend it if you like Jake, because he’s definitely terrific in it.

Also hitting Netflix this week is Juana Macias' SOUNDS LIKE LOVE (Netflix), a Spanish language romance movie that (guess) I haven't seen!

A few other movies I didn’t get to this week, include:

STOP AND GO (Decal) VAL (Dread) BLUSH (UA Releasing) RUNT (1091 Pictures)

Next week, it’s not time for James Bond, it’s time for James Bond to die… no, wait… there is NO TIME TO DIE! Also, a very, very special anniversary for the Weekend Warrior….

#The Weekend Warrior #Venom: Let There Be Carnage #Many Saints of Newark #Addams Family II #movies #review #box office #reviews #The Jesus Music #Titane

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