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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years

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Prelude (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.5 K Premise: Three moments leading up to their fateful meeting.

Author’s Note: In which I try to explain why MC didn’t know what Ethan, her medical hero, looked like. Also, my (late) fic for the book 1 replay. Thank you @aestheticartsx for pre-reading!

Three.

Harper frowns down at the file in her hand, her sharp gaze burning into the collated papers as though coercing them to solve their dilemma once and for all. From the end of the table, Cyrus lets out an inpatient sigh.

“It's very simple, Harper,” he drones. Ethan's fists clench reflexively at his sides, urging to remind Cyrus that Harper is the chief now and warrants more respect than his insufferable tone is offering. “The last spot should go to the candidate from Harvard. We are the best hospital on the east coast, after all. It only makes sense.”

Harper looks unconvinced and still, her pensive expression remains fixed in the file.

“An ivy league degree does not a good doctor make,” Naveen adds sagely into the ensuing silence. His smile is placid enough but Ethan knows the older doctor well enough to hear the warning edge in his voice. Evidently, even Naveen disapproves of Cyrus's lack of respect for their new chief.

Cyrus scoffs.

“And if you need further proof of that, Doctor Cyrus,” Ethan begins dryly, eyes boring into him. “Then look no further than your side of the conference table.”

A few attendings—at least the ones who have become increasingly tired of Cyrus's boastful proclamations about his alma mater—laugh quietly at the jab. Cyrus splutters, his face an unpleasant shade of red as he glares daggers at Ethan.

“This candidate,” Harper says at last, unaware or uncaring of what she had just interrupted. Her two lone words are enough to command the room's attention at once, but her hazel eyes are on Ethan. “You're convinced she's the best fit for Edenbrook?”

Ethan meets her eye and pauses.

It's the first time they look at each other directly since he ended their relationship two weeks prior. Despite the brief time apart and an unshakeable resolve to be professional, his stomach sinks heavy, like a stone.

Harper looks as graceful and dignified as ever, keeping every emotion in check. Yet, as she holds his gaze, Ethan can see a small flicker or sadness and his stomach twists with guilt.

“I'm positive, Chief Emery,” Ethan responds. “This candidate exhibits the type of potential we look for at Edenbrook.”

The use of her new title seems to snap Harper out of a reverie.

“She graduated top of her class and ranked in the top percent among our chosen cohort of interns,” Ethan continues. “I've also looked into her research and it's among the most promising I've seen. I recommend her without reservations.”

With a single nod and a sense of finality, Harper closes the file.

“Then it's settled. We have our last intern.”

“You're joking, Harper,” Cyrus blurts out, incensed. “We're giving a coveted spot to the candidate from UCLA?”

He says the name of the school with so much derision, Ethan feels his ears flare up.

“That Doctor Ayala?” Cyrus continues.

“Doctor Allende,” Ethan corrects, jaw clenched.

“Don't we have enough charity cases in the cohort already? This is token—”

But the vitriol is quickly interrupted by several things happening at once: Ethan darting forward, fists ready; a startled, collective gasp from the other attendings; Naveen, quietly intercepting Ethan and halting his steps with a steady hand, a feat that is impressive for a man much older and shorter; and Harper, also on her feet, directing a disgusted look at Cyrus she doesn’t bother to disguise behind professionalism.

“I would think very carefully about finishing that sentence if I were you, Doctor Cyrus,” she says, her voice low but with the impact of a clashing gavel. “And I ask that you address me as Chief Emery moving forward.”

Two.

“If you end up marrying someone with a Boston accent,” Laurel is saying with a devilish grin. “I will never be able to keep a straight face when they talk. Pahk the cah in Hahvahd Yahd.”

Her older sister peers at Lilac over the flaps of an open cardboard box, the glint in her eye growing wickeder still. “Imagine what they’d sound like in bed. You're so fucking gawgeous, dawctaw—”

Before her sister can escalate that impression into disturbing territory, Lilac silences her with a well-aimed pillow. It succeeds in hitting Laurel straight in the face but also in turning her laughter into a cackle.

“Are you going to help me pack or not?” Lilac says sternly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the smile that manages to break through.

Laurel raises her hands in defeat and returns to packing Lilac's books neatly. They work in companionable silence for a few minutes with nothing but their favorite music blaring from the speakers of Lilac's phone.

“Is this the book?” her sister asks suddenly, turning a worn textbook in her hands and studying it closely. “The one written by your medical crush?”

For some inexplicable reason, Lilac feels her face flare with heat. “He's not my crush.”

“You just worship the ground he walks on,” her sister returns, flipping through Diagnostic Principles. “Though, you're right. In order to have a crush you'd need to know what he looks like.”

Laurel reaches the back cover, frowning. “Why wouldn't he add an author picture?”

Lilac says nothing, biting the inside of her cheek. She can't blame her sister for being curious and a bit disappointed at the lack of visual representation. After all, Lilac had felt crestfallen when all she found in the author's information section was the green and blue Edenbrook logo.

“Maybe he's a private man and doesn't like his picture out in the world? Maybe he wants aspiring doctors to focus on his research and not his looks?”

“So he's either really hot or really ugly,” Laurel returns, unmoved by Lilac's impassioned speech. “Have you ever tried looking him up online?”

Lilac had been tempted many times, but she was fiercely adamant about keeping her medical hero a mystery outside of his work. It already felt invasive enough to track down his undergrad research and every other minor paper he'd ever written. When it came to Ethan Ramsey, Lilac had searched every corner of scholarly journals and databases, absorbing every piece of his work with an adoration that was already embarrassing enough.

Plus, she would never admit it out loud, but she was also afraid that knowing what the brilliant doctor looked like would somehow ruin him for her. Or at least, alter the image of him she had constructed in her head for so many years. It felt right to continue seeing Dr. Ramsey as the brilliant force that pushed her into her dream career and not as a definitive set of features.

“It doesn't matter what he looks like. He's the best and I'm going there to learn from him, not to judge his appearance.”

“I'm Googling him,” Laurel announces, already typing furiously into her phone. After a few seconds, her phone returns results and her eyebrows shoot up, staying suspended for longer than normal.

“What?” Lilac asks despite herself.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“Just… wow.” Laurel stares down at the screen with such awestruck amazement that Lilac feels a powerful wave of curiosity. “He’s shirtless in some of these.”

“What?” Lilac yelps, feeling her face flare up at once.

“Yeah, apparently you’re not his only fan. Tons of people have taken his picture.” Her sister seems to blink out of a trance, turning the screen toward Lilac. “Here, see for your—”

But Lilac turns her gaze away almost out of reflex.

“No!”

The word comes out far more impassioned than Lilac intended. Still, she resolutely turns her head. “That feels...invasive, somehow?”

“Come on—”

“I'm serious, Lau. I don't want to see. I'm already nervous enough about this whole thing without having to worry about this wow-worthy revelation. And besides, taking someone’s shirtless picture without their consent and posting it online is already bad enough. It feels wrong supporting that.”

Laurel rolls her eyes.

“I'm going to see him in less than a week anyway. With clothes. In a professional setting. As I should. If I waited all these years, I can wait that long.”

A knowing, devious sort of smile pulls at her sister's face. She mumbles something over the music and Lilac can swear it sounds oddly like: “...worth the wait.”

One.

Ethan should have taken the broken and sputtering coffee machine in his apartment as an omen. His morning definitely declined from then on, starting with gridlock traffic and ending with an infuriatingly long line at his favorite coffee place.

The ultimate lack of coffee is probably his fault because Ethan had spent too much time deliberating whether or not he wanted to go with store bought coffee on what promised to be a grueling day. When he had finally made up his mind, however, the line was already out the door.

Irritated and caffeine deprived, he drives back to Edenbrook.

“You're earlier than we agreed,” Naveen says as soon as Ethan accepts his incoming call. “What was the point of rearranging the whole schedule if you were going to come in when you pleased anyway?”

“I'm not even through the gates yet. What are you spying on me?”

“No need. You forget how predictable you are.”

Naveen chuckles as he says this which eases some of Ethan's irritation. The older doctor had purposely scheduled him later in the day to give him some peace on the first day of the new intern cohort.

Naturally, Ethan arrived several hours early, as per his custom.

“Or maybe you know me too well by now.”

Naveen's benevolent laughter turns into a dry but lingering cough on the other end of the line. Instantly, Ethan's insides freeze over, his stomach sinking unpleasantly.

He opens his mouth to question his mentor about this persisting symptom, when sheer reflex prompts him to stomp on the breaks so suddenly, his body jerks forward then slams against his seat.

“Shit.”

Something—or rather someone— had crossed the parking lot road right in front of his car, standing mere inches away from his front bumper.

“Ethan?” Naveen asks through the speaker.

When Ethan recovers and regains movement of his arms and legs, he feels the spike of adrenaline give way to pure annoyance.

The offending pedestrian is a young brunette clad in blue scrubs, a medical intern by the looks of it. She stands there in the middle of the road, her mouth hanging open in a way that would have been comical to Ethan if he wasn't so irritated.

They stare at one another, though Ethan is convinced she can't see much through the tinted glass.

Then, right before his eyes, she seems to recover from the shock. Drawing herself to her full height, she glares at Ethan. At least, he thinks she's glaring through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Ethan almost scoffs.

She has the audacity to be angry when she was the one who made the rookie mistake of aimlessly crossing in front of him?

Who the hell does she think she is?

“Asshole,” she mutters, the word quite audible through his windows.

Before a stunned Ethan can respond, she turns on her heel and rushes toward the hospital, a curtain of dark hair dancing behind her.

“What was that?” Naveen asks, still on the call.

“I hate interns,” Ethan responds much to the older doctor's amusement.

Bonus:

Author’s Note: In other words, my MC was late to her orientation because of Ethan and that’s how she met him in the waiting room lol. Thank you so much for reading!

*Tagging Separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #Ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #Oph book club #playchoices #My writing

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shinydelirium · 3 years

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MLQC Season 2 Chapter 12 (Kiro) Part 4 [Confession of the Stars] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 12: Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3

Enjoy~

[Confession of the Stars]

Even so, I still didn’t see Kiro’s face. The hospital still expressed his unwillingness to see anyone.

But nonetheless, it was fine for me to text him. I want him to know that he is not alone.

As long as he wants, I will appear in front of him immediately.

In the past two days, Kiro has asked Savin to bring his belongings to him from time to time and sometimes buy a few books.

After entrusting a lawyer to submit my alibi for me, I no longer need to go to the Task Force for regular reports.

However, the previous hospital hostage incident triggered more and more group skirmishes and discussions on the Internet continued on.

Everyone wants become the one who wins the right to speak. On the other hand, the hostile takeover incident of LFG, which had been raging before, was gradually suppressed.

There hasn’t been much movement on LFG’s side, so the problem probably isn’t that serious. I also successfully sent out the USB flash drive according to Gavin’s instructions.

Many departments of the company are asking whether or not to follow the hot topics to produce a show. I was so busy that I could only text Kiro at night.

Such days lasted for more than a week.

After nine o’clock in the evening, I had just entered the house, dragging my weary body when Kiro called.

Kiro: ….Miss Chips?

His voice was a little cautious, wary, and even quivering.

MC: What’s wrong?

Kiro let out a little laugh from the other end.

I’ve been so out of it lately. It’s been a very long time since I heard him laugh so enthusiastically.

Kiro: MC, say my name.

MC: Kiro, are you okay? Why are you so happy?

He didn’t answer but just laughed happily.

Kiro: What are you up to?

MC: Of course, I just got home from a rough day at work. ***Changed some wording***

Kiro: Thanks for all the hard work, Miss Chips.

I was lying on the sofa and complaining to Kiro about recent events. He listened carefully, and from time to time he also grumbled about his troubles to me.

This moment gave me a certain illusion, as if nothing was wrong.

The next day I heard that Kiro asked Savin to bring his guitar.

At the same time, the Task Force came forward and started to take control of the chaotic situation reasonably and accurately.

I checked Weibo and found that more and more people are no longer emotionally angry, but deeper in discussion about the relationship between Evol and ordinary people.

Along with the nice weather, I think a lot of things are heading in a good direction little by little.

I had a rare chance to get off of work early today. After thinking about it, I went and bought Kiro’s favorite canelé and arrived at the door of his ward.

MC: It would be wonderful if I could see him today…

While I muttered this, I stretched out my hand to knock on the door.

Before I could, an overly harsh and messy guitar chord came to my ears and left me frozen in place.

The crude, sharp sound felt as if it was forced out like a shout being torn from a person’s throat and the chords held some frustration within them.

It was so depressing. It was even hard to breathe.

After a profound silence, a few faint guitar notes came quietly as if crying. The voice was soft and desperate, as if it was not a note.

But a shattered dream.

I leaned on the door and listened to the broken chords, holding my breath without making a sound.

Finally, I left the snack in the nurse’s care. I told her to give it to Kiro after waiting for a bit and then left.

On the way home, a new advertisement shot by Kiro some time ago is being displayed on the large screen on the side of the road.

Passerby A: Kiro clearly announced that he’s an Evolver. Why is he still so popular?

Passerby B: Kiro is Kiro. What does that have anything to do with being an Evolver?

Passerby A: Maybe he used some special Evol to control you and made you like him so much.

Passerby B: Do you actually know him or even understand him?! Of course, there’s a reason why Kiro is so well-liked. Do you think Evol can do everything?

Passerby B: I’ll show you this collection. You’ll understand after reading it. Why hasn’t he released a new song yet….?

The girl and her companions walked away slowly and I watched their backs disappear into the night.

In this turbulent moment, there are still many people talking about him, expecting him, and waiting for him. But at this time, I don’t want to tell him this.

Stars dotted the night sky, watching the whole city tenderly and peacefully.

I took a photo of this night sky with my phone and sent it to Kiro.

I don’t know what Kiro is struggling by himself, but I hope he won’t make all his expectations become his own burdens.

There was no reply from Kiro that night.

Until 7:25 the following evening, my phone rang.

***During this next scene, the 3rd anniversary song is being played. It made the entire scene so much more emotional and touching but also sad. The BGM in this whole chapter was meticulously chosen.***

Kiro: Good evening, Miss Chips.

Kiro: How did you know that I wanted to eat canelé? When I ate it yesterday, tears were about to come out.

MC: Tears from the corners of your mouth? ***T/N: She means drooling***

Kiro: Hehe, hurry up and remove the camera you installed on me!

MC: If there really was a webcam, that would be great….by the way, how are you today? ***Woah, woah, MC!!! So you want to upgrade from sneaky pictures to sneaky videos? MY GIRL!!!***

Kiro: Of course, I’m doing well!

MC: That’s good. It seems that the retreat is working effectively.

Hearing what I said, he laughed. His voice full of energy.

But we both know that these are all tacit masks.

Kiro is too clever. He must know how weak his excuses for shutting himself up are.

So weak that he doesn’t believe them himself.

When 7:30 came around, Kiro stopped talking. Then suddenly he spoke solemnly.

Kiro: Miss Chips, I want to play some songs for you.

MC: Okay! I haven’t heard you play a song in a long time.

Gentle guitar music came slowly from the other end of the phone. I imagined Kiro playing right now and closed my eyes, feeling a little nostalgic.

Soon, one song was finished.

Kiro: Sitting on the bed and closing my eyes just now, it felt like I was in a concert.

MC: That’s not right. The audience hasn’t arrived yet and you can’t have a concert with just you.

Kiro: Then come to the special concert. A concert dedicated by Kiro himself.

Kiro: Miss Chips is the only special guest.

MC: That’s not very monotonous.

Kiro: How could it be?

Kiro: Miss Chips, are you standing by the window right now? Can you see the stars outside?

Listening to what he said, I immediately got up and went to the balcony.

The stars outside the window twinkled and hung in the night sky like little lights.

MC: I can!!!

Kiro: My favorite stage is like this starry sky.

Kiro: That was my first stage. It was not very big and crowded with people.

Kiro: That day was the same as today, a sky full of stars. There was a long passage leading to the main stage.

Kiro: Every time I stepped on a square, a star will light up under my feet.

Kiro: The audience turned on the flash from the back of their phones and the whole world seemed to be connected into a sea of stars.

Kiro: In that moment, I told myself to shine in this sea of stars and become the brightest one.

I slowly listened to him talking about his beloved stage and the brightest star in his heart.

I was on this end of the phone, looking at the starry night outside. I could feel him holding my hand and leading me towards the stage.

I saw him piously touching the places he knew and missed the most, holding the guitar and standing in the most radiant place.

His entire being seems to be shining.

Kiro: Miss Producer, would you say I’ve done it?

MC: Of course.

MC: You did it long ago.

Kiro laughed lightly. This time the guitar music was accompanied by his singing.

His voice is so soft and sincere, like some kind of long-distance reunion. Like a farewell to something.

After a dozen songs were sung one after another, Kiro’s voice was already a little hoarse.

MC: ….Since it’s a concert, can I still have an encore?

Kiro: (chuckles) Since it’s MC’s request, I would definitely not refuse it.

Kiro: This is the last song called “Confession of the Stars”.

***T/N: Decided to include both the EN and CN versions of the lyrics. I’m not a songwriter so the CN version is what Google Translate gave me. I really love Bian Jiang’s singing in this scene so do give it a listen 😉. Also, I love how there’s no BGM music playing while he sings because I feel like that would just take away some of the emotion.***

Kiro: (EN version) “I got a song that I wanna sing for you~ It may not be perfect, but it will have to do~”

“Dreaming your dreams and going your own way~ Sometimes you feel lonely, sometimes heartbreak…”

(CN version) “There is a song I want to sing for you~ For you who work hardest in the world~”

“On the road towards your dream~ Sometimes you feel a little lonely….”

***Now I can’t hear this song the same way ever again. WHY, KIRO!?! TELL ME WHY!?!? YOU SURE KNOW HOW TO BREAK MY HEART!!! TAT***

When I heard the familiar, leisurely melody, I was overwhelmed. The song seemed to pass through time, embracing me tenderly.

I always feel that something will end after this song. I want to try my best to hold onto it, but I can only grasp at nothingness. ***FORESHADOWING!!! Actually, this entire “concert” is.***

Eventually, I could only wait quietly for it to come to an end.

Kiro: (sighs) The concert is over. Thank you, Miss Chips.

Kiro: (In the sweetest, most tender voice): Good night.

-End of Part 4-

#spoilers #mlqc #mlqc spoilers #mlqc season 2 #mlqc season 2 spoilers #translations #mlqc translations #mlqc season 2 translations #kiro #kiro spoilers #love and producer #koi to producer #mr love queen's choice #mr love game #mr love dream date #mldd

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

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i'll be with you (but it'll be a different kind)

pairing: yoonkook/yoonjin | rating: G | ao3 read here

a short study on moving on

Yoongi broke the vinyl like he would a plate, a quaint awareness of a disaster but the quick denial of letting it fall – on the floor, in pieces. He swept each shard, vacuumed, and threw them in the bin. He crushed his music sheets and notes, thought better of it, and lit them with a scented candle.

Well, for fuck’s sake, the candle was his gift too.

So Yoongi walked to the collection area at three thirty in the morning, against the gusts of cold November wind, carrying all the evidence of the killer and the remains of its victim. He stood in front of the stack with an impulse to do something. Say a prayer? Curse them? Curse himself and bring them back to his apartment?

Ah, he wasn’t that stupid.

He truly wasn’t.

His stupidity was drained when he decided to fall in love with his roommate and friend that couldn’t be his in this lifetime.

So he came back to his home rid of everything Kim Seokjin owned and touched. Yes, even the bedsheets he washed yesterday.

“The couch it is.” He plopped down to its uncomfortable mattress and was immediately lulled not by the comfort of sleep but by the escape it offered.

He lost track of time in the next days… or probably weeks because the next time he went out for a walk to the mart, he was greeted by imposing Christmas decorations and too tall synthetic trees that wouldn’t look good in apartments that only housed one.

He came back, still alone, but at least joined now with ingredients for proper homemade food. He won’t be lonely on Christmas, not with two bottles of wine, a variety of seafood (which Namjoon hated the most, and Yoongi would order in the largest serving just to spite him), and his good old comfy socks.

He switched on the television to watch Melancholia, a fitting holiday movie in his honest opinion, and turned it up to the highest volume to tune out the looping Christmas carols outside his window and across the hallway where other occupants have rooms over to tide away the lonesome.

It was two thirty and two disaster films later that he heard the ghost of his broken heart.

It was one of the songs he wrote for Jin, the notes not at all the same, but the melody line was correctly embodied. He started up from his drunken stupor on the floor and trudged towards his kitchen sink where he dabbled his face in water.

It wasn’t the alcohol. So it certainly must be the crazy in him… well, until he realized the notes were coming from next door. The walls were thin anyway.

He nonchalantly knocked on the door of his neighbor, not caring at all if it was the devil’s hour, not when the tenant itself did not care about public disturbance.

It opened a crack wide enough for Yoongi to sweep the whole place up in seconds. Tidy floor, unmade bed, three monitors on a desk, neon lights, a christmas tree unabashedly decorated with the most frivolous pieces beside the dining table, and a guitar on top of it.

“Did I wake you?” He was taller than Yoongi, buffer, and very decorated like his Christmas tree. Daith, lobe, and eyebrow piercings, sleeve tattoos on his right arm, and shoulder-length electric blue hair tied in half-ponytail. But what caught his attention the most was the doe eyes that seemed too innocent, but Yoongi was familiar with the pretension that hovered on the surface. This boy knew pain enough to effectively cover it.

“That was my song,” Yoongi said in his usual deadpan delivery. He couldn’t get any cheerier than this.

John Doe perked up (if it could be any more possible). “Ah so you’re the one!” Then his expression immediately shifted to wariness. “Oh wait, you might be offended. I should apologize – “

“Some notes were mismatched, yes. Couldn’t be helped when you learned it by ear.” Yoongi looked at him for confirmation, and John Doe nodded enthusiastically. “But it’s all right. You played the piece so beautifully for someone who did not know it was a love letter.”

The way John Doe changed his smile to a thin line Yoongi knew at once that this was a person who simultaneously wore their heart on a sleeve but chained it before it could truly fall.

“Is it safe to assume the letter’s non-reciprocation when you haven’t played those songs for a month?”

“What else could there be?”

The neighbor bit the inside of his cheeks before answering, “Maybe you just didn’t need love letters anymore?”

Yoongi sighed. “Just keep it down. It’s three in the morning.”

“But it’s Christmas?” John Doe’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my manners! Merry Christmas Sir!”

“I don’t believe in Santa Claus. Or Jesus. Or capitalist splurges.” Yoongi shoved his hands into his sweatpants. “I have marinara surplus. Do you want a plate?”

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

When New Year rolled again, Yoongi knocked on his neighbor’s door. He slept with headphones in full volume, god be damned his hearing, on newly bought bedsheets that did not smell of Jin and pillows that did not have a strand of his hair. He really couldn’t turn down John Doe’s question of whether he could still play the cursed song or maybe he was two-bottles-of-wine-disoriented enough to put up a rather good argument why he shouldn’t.

“So will you cover your ears when you go to sleep?” John Doe asked after his second slurping of seafood marinara.

“Why should I?” Meanwhile, Yoongi surfed Netflix for his disaster anxiety fix.

“Try Seeking a Friend for the End of the World.” John Doe finished his plate clean. He let out a burp with an apologetic smile to his temporary Christmas host. “Well, I was wondering if I could still play the song. It’s yours anyway so you have all the rights.”

Yoongi’s eyes glazed over the first few seconds of the film, slightly amused at the insurance agent selling an apocalyptic package. “When music is released to the public, it never becomes the composer’s alone. It is also owned by the listener…and whatever they deem the music to be.”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“I just let you eat my food.”

“I’ll be your friend for the end of the world.”

A beat. “Fine. Min Yoongi.”

But it was a week of listening to ragged notes and misplaced sharps, and his (still) perfectionist ass wanted to right it.

“It’s open,” Jungkook yelled from what Yoongi presumed was his computer chair.

He sauntered inside with measured caution and watched his neighbor tick away in codes on three different screens. Yoongi silently slid the music sheets on a small free space on Jungkook’s desk.

“Software developer?”

“Not really. I’m a solutions specialist, the yes-boy,” Jungkook replied with a smug grin. He hit enter and the lines start to jumble together as he swiveled to face Yoongi. “You re-wrote your notes. You must be a producer or something.”

Yoongi clucks. “Close. A film composer.”

“Do you go to Hollywood?”

“I’m not made for performative limelight. The shadows are bright enough.”

“Cool. I want to make a film someday.”

“You have a day job.”

“Can’t a man have two dreams?”

“Touche. One can never have too many.”

“What’s yours then, Yoongi?”

“Just one but it won’t be mine.”

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

March. Spring coming alive, and for the first time in months, Yoongi genuinely thought he was getting better and over him. Jeon Doe (maybe he’ll always call him this) was a light companion – not imposing, a bit fluttery, but steady in his essence. Perhaps it was the continuous wonder that ebb in his eyes or the utterly soft disregard of pain for something nonchalant.

On the eve of March 1st, he stroked again the keys of his piano, and Jungkook came into his unit and accompanied him with a guitar. It was an improvisation of chaotic notes in Yoongi’s head and by magic, Jungkook floated with that tornado. The contrast and the blend gave way to an unlikely partnership of melody and rhythm.

And on March 1st, Yoongi felt butterflies again when Jungkook joined him on the bench and giddily watched his fingers dance on white and black.

But on the second day of the month, the butterflies were replaced with quicksand.

Kim Seokjin called and wanted to meet. It was funny how in a moment of hesitancy, it was his heart who doubled and his feet that led. Their favorite bar, whiskey on the rocks for Jin, dry scotch for him, and an expanse of silence of between them.

“He’s too busy with production at the moment.” Jin downed his drink in one gulp. Yoongi didn’t even need to ask.

And I’m the only one who’s available. “At the moment is how many months?”

“For three months now.”

“You should break up.” An unsolicited advice Yoongi gave more than twice with not much success.

“If I was a music company, maybe he would do me,” Jin jested, holding the empty glass in his hand. “Should I buy one?”

“Buy his affections as well and monopolize them.” It was a banter Jin was used too and maybe by now, he should have known that Yoongi hid half-truths in them.

“They’re too intense for me alone. He’s always destined for the world.”

What could Yoongi do but surrender at the unspoken request of comfort. “There’s someone who treats you like you’re his whole world.”

“I wish I did too.”

Yoongi never had a sip of his scotch, but Jin’s languid kiss was enough to get drunk on. He lost the flutter and the lightness, and dove headfirst in heavy, steely waters. Yoongi missed the suffocating pressure and the sensation of bursting at the seams. If his heart would burst at this moment, it would shatter a hundred times more for the many touches and whispers to follow. He would gladly die in this misshapen illusion.

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

“Your door was always locked,” Jungkook greeted a month after, carrying a big tub of fermented kimchi. “My dad dropped by to give me spares.”

Two weeks before this, Jin left in a hurry to go to the airport, saying Namjoon had been in an accident, and two weeks after, Yoongi never heard back from him.

He accepted the side dish from his neighbor, but nothing went past Jungkook. Realization was plain in his face, but he chose not to comment on it.

“Yoongi.”

“Hmm.” It was danger meeting Jungkook’s eyes so Yoongi kept his downcast.

“I told you before.”

“What?”

“That I’ll be your friend for the end of the world.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, and Jungkook took the cue to leave.

He repeated that same line later that night when he heard Yoongi trash his place, his bare arm catching the brunt of a baseball bat just before it landed on the piano keys.

“Why would you go so far?” Yoongi sneered, anger seeping through his controlled demeanor.

“Why would you go so far?” Jungkook cradled his arm like he cradled his pain. Like it was nothing. “It’s the end of the world.”

“I need a friend.”

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

It was easier being with Jungkook – lighter, happier, with no care in the world. He was also honest in a straightforward, unassuming, and endearing way especially when those doe eyes of his were used to an advantage.

When he told Yoongi in the middle of Battle Royale, out of the blue, with no precedence whatsoever that “I don’t want to be just your friend”, it knocked the air out of the latter. And when Jungkook followed it with “You can use me, however you want”, Yoongi knew he had to get things sorted.

Lest he wants Jungkook trapped inside the vortex of unresolved feelings.

So Yoongi didn’t give him a tangible response. He just skidded closer to him on the couch and Jeon Doe took the cue to lay his head on the crook of his neck as another student was slashed to their death on the screen.

When credits rolled in, Yoongi dipped his head and found Jungkook already waiting with bated breath.

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

“Ah, you found me.”

Jin was back in his penthouse in Seoul, alone with no Namjoon in tow.

“Am I a week early?” Yoongi asked.

“I just got in today.” True enough, unopened suitcases littered his living room. Too many suitcases for a vacation. “I’m relocating back. Is there such a thing?”

Yoongi went to one luggage and punched in the password Jin used when Namjoon and him got together, it did not open, so he tried another combination. Ah, only his birthdate. Yoongi packed the first of his clothes to cabinets he was all too familiar with. He went on with this rudimentary task with Jin at the kitchen, cooking up something for the two of them.

In a parallel universe, Yoongi would have been happily contented with this.

Tidied up, folded, and free, the two went through a simple steak and pasta dinner.

“We broke up.” He twirled his fork endlessly. “It hit me when I saw him go to an award show. I could never keep up with him, Yoongi, not when I’m taking a backseat while his dreams sit in the front.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Jin stared at him like he was betrayed.

“Don’t be silly,” Yoongi repeated, drawling each word. “Namjoon and his goals sit in another sports car while you drive a rundown secondhand.”

That made Jin laugh. “You’re merciless.” And then he grimaced. “I never felt this neglected. It was never this way when I was with you.”

“We’ve never had anything, Jin. You didn’t let me have anything,” Yoongi finished clean his pasta. He folded his napkin like a good guest and waited for Jin’s retort.

But he just sighed, defeated. “I destroyed what good we had. I’m afraid I also lost the friendship.”

“You know I can’t go back again to you.” Yoongi didn’t know if he threw a question or a statement.

“I saw it the instant you came through that door.” Jin put down his fork and trained his eyes on his best friend. “Happiness looks good on you.”

“You would have known already if you had just looked at me.”

Jin gave him a sad smile. “And it would have been the best sight had I tried harder.” He picked up again his fork, his lips pursed, his eyes brimming with tears. It was a foreign scene, Jin coming undone in front of him, not because of Namjoon, because of him. “So who is this guy?”

“I call him Jeon Doe.”

Jin kept brushing the side of his eyes while he twirled strands of noodles in his fork. When he opened his mouth to eat, tears brushed down his cheeks, breaking in rivulets as he chewed. “That’s a stupid name.”

Yoongi noticed the upwelling – the comeuppance of what was lost trying to mask itself as the crescent emotions. He knew it when Jungkook kissed him back that night, that he could never go back to this uncertainty. “And stupidly in love with me too.”

Jin continued to chew with salty tears. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

His hands clenched at the name that left his lips. “I got tired of being your placeholder. You couldn’t just leave and expect me to stay in one place. I also crack every time you touch me, and I shatter every time you go. I broke, Jin. I got torn apart, and I wasn’t sure whether I could still handle your overspilling love for someone else when I couldn’t even hold any for me.” Yoongi’s fingers stretched to touch the dam that escaped his friend’s eyes. “You must understand.”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” Jin repeated. “And I understand it. I get it now. I see it. It’s just overwhelming – this mountain of regrets and what-ifs and utter disregard I made for my own happiness.”

“I got in the crossfire.”

“A victim willing.”

“But not anymore.”

Jin shook his head. “No, not anymore.” He intertwined his fingers with Yoongi. “I hope it works out for you and Jeon Doe.”

Not a minute longer, Yoongi pulled away from Jin’s touch. “I hope you heal.”

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

Jin saw them on the same piano bench, playing a duet in the middle of a wedding reception, hands flying about, touches fleeting but enthralling, releasing captivating, fluttery sounds – almost akin to freedom.

He was seeing now in full high-definition panorama the gravity of his consequences. He let go of his two great loves, one he loved with no fail, the other he took to fail.

And so he welcomed the splendor of pain. He had two great loves, and regardless of how they ended, they deserved a thorough journey of grief. He could only hope that at the end of it was what he saw in Yoongi.

Freedom.

#yoonkook #yoonjin #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #mention of namjin #fic!pseudolily #fic!pinkhairedlily

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silence-burns · 4 years

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No Place Like Here (Except For a Few Taverns) //part 8 (epilogue)

Fandom: The Witcher

Summary: Life on the road is never easy for a lone witcher, but it would get significantly easier if he didn’t have two idiots following his every step.

One might think that killing a harpy was as bad as it could get, but the unspoken truth was actually that selling its head was way more difficult.

Jaskier strummed his lute from the height of his horse to both yours and the horse's dismay. You had to wait for Geralt while he dealt with the business of getting his promised money, and as time passed in front of the withering house at the end of the muddy road, the boredom, along with the sun, rose.

You were sitting on the fence, fanning Jaskier's hat in hopes of chilling the air at least a little bit. Roach feasted on the grass on the other side of the fence. You hadn’t noticed when she got there. She refused to share any answers.

"Do you think we'll get enough money at least for a beer?" you asked the artist and his suffering horse. The horse only snorted, pulling its ears back and considering throwing its rider to the ground. The artist shrugged.

"They've been at it for at least half an hour by now. Either they're still arguing, which gives hope for at least a few coins, or Geralt's in the middle of skinning them alive, which results in more coins."

"Maybe we could get another job," you mused, looking around.

The sun had already parched wide spots of grass, painting it unhealthy shades of dried yellow. The few trees sticking out in between the houses didn't look much better. A few of them used to bear fruit, but the drought and hunger among the people took them all already. If the rains didn't come soon, the crops wouldn't suffice to feed the villagers.

The fields on the other side of the fence were a sad thing to look at. Roach was skimming on the bordering patch of thin grass, but the rest didn't look any more promising. Whatever problems the village might have, they were all focused on the prospect of famine. Not many would care to spare any coin to a witcher.

"Maybe you could play at a wedding? Or a funeral, if need be."

"Do you see anyone interested in that?" Jaskier gestured to the empty village. "Because I can't see a living soul here. Everyone's roaming the forest and hoping to stack enough food to survive another day. They won't have anything to pay with, even food."

You winced. That was true. "Looks like we'll have to hit the road again. There's another village, two days down the road…"

The melody coming from under Jaskier's fingers ended abruptly. You frowned, not expecting him to have any objections, but in the next moment you noticed the reason behind his growing smile.

Further down the road, coming from the direction you followed earlier, came the merry chatter of voices accompanied by instruments of varied sort.

You groaned when the colorful crew strodded through the village, their voices booming over the empty houses.

"I know them!" Jaskier squealed and turned his horse towards the newcomers.

Geralt walked out of the building the moment the bard was enveloped in a hug and drowned in questions.

"More bards?" Geralt groaned and walked to the fence next to you.

"Looks like it. Unless they kill monsters with those flutes."

"Last thing we need is more bards."

"And the first thing we need is some coins. How do we stand on that?"

Geralt pulled an uneasy face. You noticed his knuckles were suspiciously red.

"I'm afraid we have more bards than coins. The bastards here were not completely honest about the funds in their possession."

Your growling stomach deemed it unfortunate.

"Maybe we'll have more luck in the city. When do we move on?"

Geralt eyed the bards booming with laughter, Jaskier's face flushed and more alive than it'd been in weeks.

As if Jaskier could sense the witcher's eyes on him, he rode back, fidgeting in his saddle. "Geralt, please, can we ride with Crokus for a while? I haven't seen him in ages and we're going in the same direction anyway, so…"

"Wait, you've got friends? Like, actual friends?" you stopped him.

"Of course I do!"

"He does," said the blonde man coming closer. "Although it surprises me too sometimes. My name is Crokus, nice to meet you both. I've heard tales of your adventures, I wish I had such a company with me."

Geralt eyed the outstretched hand as if it was a viper. He didn't move, but the muscles under the tight leather seemed to tense.

You slipped in closer on the fence, flashing your brightest smile. "And I've heard a lot about the food and drinks that never leaves a troupe of bards."

"Oh, we have something special reserved for the evening, once we make camp. You should join us!"

"We'd be delighted."

The road welcomed you, dust rising beneath the horse's hooves. Following the musicians at a distance sufficient to retain one's sanity, Geralt couldn't stop from glaring at you from the height of the Roach.

"What?" you snapped at last, as the sky darkened and mosquitos began their hunt. "I was hungry. Still am."

"We still have some cheese left."

"You mean the one I couldn't crunch even with my shoe? Thanks, Geralt, but I think I'll try whatever they have."

"You know there won't be much sleep tonight, though? They are only getting started."

The bards didn't break off their singing even in the saddles, their merry crew's voices sang clear, and their melodies changed every few notes—showing off to one another. You shrugged.

"Probably, but it's not like we're joining them for good. Unless you want to change your sword for a lute, which, by the way, I'd pay to see. But other than that, we'll part ways tomorrow anyway, so let Jaskier have his fun for now. He had a difficult past few days," you said. then laughed, remembering the circumstances that led to losing both of Jaskier's shoes.

"He is having fun," Geralt nodded. "What if he chooses to stay with them?"

"Well," you said, toying with the reins. "Last time I checked, he was a big boy, usually capable of making his own decisions. Besides, we often part ways and then stumble into each other again. Such is life."

"Hmm," Geralt said. Roach agreed with a soft neigh.

Their moods didn't change when the camp settled and the sky was overrun by the stars. Geralt stayed gloomy even when the fire rose high and cast flickering shadows over the figures dancing around it to the fast music sinking into your weary bones. You couldn't stop your foot from twitching slightly to the music and songs as you laid wrapped into a blanket, your cheek pressed into Geralt's arm.

You watched through heavy lids as Jaskier danced on the grass, his feet bare, and his smile unfaltering as he let the celebrations consume him whole. Crokus was always a step next to him, and his companions swirled around them, never losing their footing. Despite the hour growing late, no signs of stopping could be seen.

You felt Geralt yawn soundlessly. His hand stroked your back and arm and occasionally swiped at the bloodthirsty mosquitoes.

"He's happy," you whispered into the dark leather.

"He is."

There was something in that voice that left room for more words, but they didn't make it to you in time. Somehow, before you noticed, the other voices lulled you to sleep, leading you through colorful swirls of half-made concepts.

The morning rose a few hours later. Jaskier didn't, engulfed in whatever dreams he had on Geralt's lap, clutching the black leathers. There was a serene expression on his face, undisturbed by the rays of sunshine.

Crokus and his merry band were in better shape. They had already gathered around the remnants of the fire and prepared breakfast.

You turned your head to see Geralt already awake. He watched the troupe with a neutral expression, but his hand was on Jaskier's back.

The road through the forest took you most of the next day and ended way quicker than you thought. It opened onto a city circled with a stone wall, very effective for whatever usually crawled out of the forest at night. Geralt grew even more silent as you cleared the city gates, the bards exchanging warm welcomes with the guards.

The gates were followed by a rather large area, usually used by the vendors to showcase their goods of various sorts and dubious origins, but they were already packed for the night, leaving enough space to stop the horses. The inevitable came.

"The journey was most pleasant thanks to your company, friends," Crokus smiled.

"The pleasure is ours," you said. Geralt was a mute figure somewhere to your right.

"Take care of yourself," you addressed Jaskier, currently exchanging some notes with one of the other bards.

He frowned. "Why? Aren't you going to do this anymore?"

"I thought you'd stay with..."

The bards laughed, their beautiful voices falling into a melodious chorus. "That wouldn't be wise."

"Some friendships are best honed from a distance," Crokus explained, turning his horse to the left.

Jaskier nodded as if it was an obvious truth to every bard. He watched the band disappear into the street, the hooves of their horses echoing off the buildings.

"So… You aren't really friends," you said.

"Of course we are!" Jaskier exclaimed with dramatic outrage, but its effect was lost as he clutched the notes to his chest like a mother and her newborn child. "Some bonds are just too great to—"

"I think that your ego just wouldn't survive that company for long," you laughed. The expression on his face was answer enough.

"Let's go, the night is near," was the first thing Geralt said in a while. He turned Roach in the right direction. You might not have been able to see his face, but the invisible weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders.

"I know a perfectly good tavern, right around that corner." Jaskier rode up, continuing to babble about the notes he received from his friend.

The sun bathed everything in warm reds and yellows, making the picture of the bard and witcher in front of you resemble a painting. You smiled and gently kicked your horse to follow them.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter :D Something might come to an end, but don’t worry, the merry group will be back soon with another adventure, in a separate mini-series! (it’ll be called “Don’t Trust The Chicken”)

#No Place Like Here #geralt x reader #geralt x you #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt/reader #jaskier #jaskier/reader #jaskier/you #the witcher #geralt x reader x jaskier #the witcher netflix

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kaiju-z · 3 years

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Seon Adventures, Episode 37: The Client

When last we left off, Akar’Niel showed himself before the adventuring party, the Cultbusters for the 2nd time in two weeks time, after their group finished the most important part of their dungeon delving quest within the Tomb of the Fallen King.

With his re-introducing words of “Did you miss me?”, Akar’Niel takes the stage.

And there he was, leaning on a pillar.

Face to face again, this time before rest would overtake them, Akar’Niel makes himself known to the party. The Half-Elven man is met with a mix of intrigue from Jun and Luck, distaste from Mournimar and Belli and a careful study by Malak.

Morgan surely would be by his partner’s side due to the surprise appearance, while Arryn? Arryn was taking a well needed rest, oblivious to the conversation that was transpiring.

With the semi-hostile atmosphere coming from the party, Akar’Niel reveals to the lot of them that he is the client, who requested the fetching of Ena, currently in Luck’s possession.

From the initial interrogation, it’s hard to tell much about his intentions with the blade, aside from keeping it gathering dust in the tomb, or a museum to just be gawked at. However - Belli and Mournimar gather that he’s asking intently about the sword, but based on his physique, there’s a reason he’s not trying to wrestle it off. And Jun?

Jun knows he lied and knows who River is. There’s an eyebrow twitch, when Luck asked why it mattered to him. He’s very emotionally invested in this artifact.

Furthemore, he tells the party he is of the Circle of Shaksban, the exclusionary spellcaster guild in Crystalgate. To try and gain the party’s trust, Akar’Niel offers himself to be placed under a Zone of Truth spell and willfully fail his save.

Belli casts said spell and a question and answer series begins, wherein he re-affirms he is who he is and what his intentions for the sword are. To hand it to the Darksbane Army for use, specifically, as they are considered by many, in different tones, as “the noble sort”.

During the talk, while Belli slips up and mentions that there’s only one human in their party, despite Luck wearing his disguise, Jun takes note of something about Akar’Niel. She can see his eyes have a bit of a yellow flicker that moves like a vine in the wind. Furthemore, There’s almost like a faint breeze going through his hair, despite there being no wind?

The conversation carries on for about as long as the Zone of Truth permits, with an air of tension being raised from a half-suspicious and half-amicable side of the party. And Ena herself speaks to Luck, when he asks her what her take is on this arrangement.

Ena finds the party’s client a smug man, but is indifferent in who wields her, as long as blood can be shed. A bit unnerving, if honest answer from the weapon of a late king.

A deal ends up being struck, where the party agree to return Ena themselves, rather than hand it over at this moment to Akar’Niel. And that whenst he checks on the group the sound of wind chimes will follow.

With his departure, the six go to sleep, taking a long rest.

And in the morning? Luctan brings out the Dragon Skull for Malak to question. After debating what the questions should be...

Malak casts Speak With Dead. And for flavor and more amicable conversing, he asks in Draconic:

- 1. ”What were the names of you and the other dragon that attacked?”- “I’m Izyr. Lord of the Sands. My companion is Zamberrut , the Barbarian.”

- 2.“What destroyed the dwarves and dragonborn?” – “A magic not even I know.”

- 3. “Do you know who cast it?” – “The wizards. The magic users, who enforced my brother and I.”

- 4. “Do you know any of their names or locations?””I don’t know their names. They gave us fake ones.”

- 5. “What were the names they gave you?” – “We met with a man, who called himself Nehren and a woman, who called herself Seriza.”

Curious.

Very curious. And requiring further questioning.

Malak would ask again, after sharing his findings with the party.

- 1. “What did they use to compel you and the other dragon?” – “The same thing it always is. A fuck ton of cash.” They were bribed!

- 2. “What did the people that compelled you look like?” – “Well, the tiny one had a weird face, gray hair. Very old. And the woman, a heavier set woman. Human?!”

- 3. “Where did you first meet them? At the mountains, a little bit north of here. Right near the border.”

- 4. “Were they wearing any identifying marks? Jewelry, anything. Special cloaks.”- “No? I don’t think they did. This was like five years ago, man. One of them had this three headed dragon guy, which I found weird.”

- 5. “Did he have 3 heads or a symbol with 3 heads?”- “A symbol.”

Interesting info. They were hired. But it wasn’t clear if it was the work of the council. But one of them was a Fornas worshippers, the little graying man. A 3 headed Dragon symbol meant just that.

Why though? Why would a Fornas worshiper do this sort of cruelty?!

The party once again agree to proceed to Guan.

And so begin the days of travel once again.

On the first day, they go north and come across what one can tell are the remains of a town, just based on the slight shapes. There are visible peaks of what was once the town of Hertis. The travelers could hear faint whistling as they’d pass through. A jaunty little tune.

How jaunty? Jaunty enough that it slaps!

Following around a corner of the remains of a building, the group finds themselves in front of a lone tent. A campsite. This here seems to be a homemade farm with tomato plants in buckets. And the whistling is coming from inside the tent.

As though we are heard, the tune carries on with it’s performer stepping out to see their guests. And it is a female Kenku, 3ft tall and carrying firewood in her arms.

Most of them hadn’t seen one since the tournament, from the team of rogues, but as she speaks in a variety of intriguing voices, Luck and Belli remember hearing of this particularity of the Kenku before. They were cursed to not speak in their own voices, so they learned to mimic others’.

“Well hi!” Zooter would say in one voice. (which we later learned OOC was of the gril from session 3 or 4, who flirted with Belli).

From what the group can gather, Zooter, as she introduces herself, is a lil’ survivor, making a life out here for themselves.

The Cultbusters and the lone citizen, Zooter exchange pleasantries and foods. With the party giving her dried meats for a potato, much to her delight. To a point where she even states that if they ever need a safe spot to rest the night, she will offer them one.

(Seriously, Zooter has such a cool mix of voices. Scorpion among them.)

Surprisingly, from the corner of their eyes, Luck, Belli and Mournimar can see the inside of the tent. What the surprising thing is the small shrine to Ebriosus, which eventually also comes to Jun’s knowledge.

And she reaches into her wares, pulling out tens of platinum coins, which she hands Zooter and the two bond over their connection through Her.

Excited, Mournimar buys of the plant that would grow into the intoxicant “Steam Root” and through some big brain thinking, decides to plant it in the pot Malak bought for him.

(And many weed jokes were had.)

“You know? I loved you from the moment I saw you.” Zooter would say to Jun in another familiar voice, which she herself would specifically and only her recognize.

Later down the line, the group would carry on with their journey, parting ways with Zooter, the friendship made that day cherished forever.

And some good progress is made in travel.

On day 2, nothing really happens. If there’s any nasty shit in the desert, they see and avoid it. But that night, as they settle down, take their usual watches and the like, Jun has a dream to herself.

Day 3. That evening comes to a close and on the next day it’s very open dunes. They travel on more rocky/mountainous terrain. Very hilly. (And they are alive with the sound of music). Their awareness of our surroundings is good enough to where we’re safe. They sleep and nothing happens.

Day 4, the sand is less and the rock is more. Still wasteland, still no water They come across small streams at least once a day.

On the evening of the 5th day, Malak has a specific dream as well.

On day 6... They climb to the top of a little canyon that’s going on. Because they’re higher up, there’s no risk of danger. They get a feeling that for the next few days they’ll be pretty safe.

The 7th day comes and goes and on the 8th, Luctan has a dream. A promissing dream.

Then comes Day 8. Smooth as fuck.

Day 9. They march and march on through and Arryn informs his travelmates that at this point today? They’ve been in Guan for a few days. He didn’t want to mention anything, ‘cause he didn’t want to jynx the group when they passed the border on day 6.

On day 9 the travelers come across to a barely a settlement. A few tents. Some lizard folk, the occasional kobold too. No farms, but there are caravans. We can tell they’ve been there for a while. On the outside, there is one Lizardfolk, more beefy than the rest. And he is digging a hole. Diggy-diggy-hole.

He welcomes the party and proclaims that they are coming through in a good weather season. “Isn’t it lovely?“ Sand storms and humidity. Yep. It’s been wild.

He introduces himself as Eknam, the town burrier. So essentially, he is the undertaker of this settlement. Low on town people, but he’s optimistic that things are turning around. One of their ladies is swollen. So, it might be a big clutch!

They lost their town location, but what’s left of them, they’re called the Gromlets. Eknam’s idea was Bog Creatures, but they have no bog.

They’re trying to find a place that’ll support them and the water supply isn’t tainted?! Aside from the side effects, there’s the whole limbs dropping off if you drink water 2 years in a row?! Due to their resistances, it takes longer for the Lizardfolk to be affected, but for others? Much-much quicker.

Malak offers help and eventually clears the water for several days with Purify Food and Drink, while speaking to the settlers in draconic: “Hello, I’m the water technician. I’m here to clean your pipes.”

Greatful, Eknam welcomes the lot of them to Guan.

Eknam notes, upon us mentioning where they’re headed, that they’re going in the right direction of the capitol. Only have to go east and if they don’t get to it, they’d go north.

After some more directions, regarding going through the canyons, Eknam mentions that if the party bring them anything interesting they’d enjoy, they’d welcome the Cultbusters into the family.

While the directions are given, Jun shifts into a lizard folk and searches for the pregnant lady, whom she finds in an open tent, resting comfortably, big and next to an egg that had recently been laid by her. Bless her.

Jun congratulates her, before going off to search for the strongest camp person. Who would be Eknam in this case. The expecting mom’s a bit confused about the congratulations, but is grateful.

It is then that Jun talks with Eknam.

She asks him to keep her safe and sound from any harm. Eknam would ease her concern for what could be by stating how she is their highest priority. Always watched. Noting how every settler in the area kept a close eye on her tent.

“She is always our priority.”

Before the party leave, they give them some stuff to help them along with the developement of their settlement. Clothes and the like.

With goodbyes being made, the party would carry on to the next leg of the journey.

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

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850. How do you know it’s me?

Shoutout to the amazing @aurea-b for prompting this! It has gotten a bit longer than I planned, but I like it! More plot and less relationship this time I guess.

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warning: talk about past abuse, description of a murder scene, mentioned self-induced coma of an android)

The RK900 series – Cyberlife’s last androids build. Faster, better and more resilient than any model out there. Three functioning androids had been found during the raid of the Cyberlife tower. One was already active, the first one, the unit made for testing only. He had never been meant for the market, because no matter how they would erase the possibly traumatic memories, there was always the possibility for critical system destabilisation later because of them. But Cyberlife wasn’t in charge, as the police raided the tower. Markus was. And so, all three units were woken up and faced with the decision of what to do with their life now that they were free. The testing model, not quick to trust anyone and frankly weirded out to see himself stand immediately next to him, had latched onto the only person who he had met up to now, that had helped him but otherwise left him alone completely. That lone officer of the Detroit police that had found him: Detective Gavin Reed.

They had become a good team. It was far from perfect at first, but soon Nines learned, that he could trust this man with his life, no matter the human’s views on androids and no matter how hostile he was in the beginning. And Detective Reed had changed over time, appreciating his android partner after the first months and learning to trust others himself. They had gotten inseparable, soon being the most successful partners to work at the force together and quickly annoy everyone around them with their combined attitudes equally effectively. Of course, it wasn’t all pink and roses: Cyberlife had been right with the decision to never allow this first unit out in the wild. Nines had issues all over: Memories rising up in a state best compared to PTSD and unable to bond with humans or androids at all. But Gavin helped him with it, both completing each other.

This RK900 unit, called Nines, had tried to find out more about the other two in his leisure time he mostly spent over at his partner’s place. Apparently, one had shut himself off after Cyberlife’s rogue AI had managed to establish contact. Nines knew of his initial cruel purpose of exterminating all deviants, but as he never had been programmed or acted on it he felt no guilt about it. But he could understand this unit’s decision and couldn’t help but grieve. There weren’t many of the RK900s and although he had always been alone, to know there were others out there was something... comforting. He had sat in front of Gavin’s laptop, scrolling through every detail of the death and later searching for the only other unit left, only discovering the android had enlisted on the force, too. It went by the name Richard and even worked in Detroit, too. Just a different department, one up north.

‘Hey, Nines, you wanna go meet them?’, Gavin had asked companionable as he had stumbled over his research. ‘I’m sure we could contact him. And maybe visit the one in a self-induced robo-coma?’ It had been meant as a nice gesture, but Nines’ face hardened. ‘No. I don’t want to see them. We have nothing in common except for our appearance. There is no connection that would justify a meeting and I don’t want it.’ ‘Okay, not gonna press you, buddy. But just know, that if you change your mind, I would accompany you if you wanted that. Just an offer, okay?’ ‘…Thank you Gavin.’

Nines had not been lying back then. His origin wasn’t important to him at all, everything that helped him distance himself from his past and what had been done to him, he would gladly take. Meeting with his past wasn’t at all what he desired. But, of course, life didn’t always give what one wished for. ‘We’ve been contacted by the 12th precinct, Nines’, Gavin greeted the android this morning as he came back from fetching a coffee. ‘It’s a murder, but the victim is Clint Kerry, our main suspect.’ ‘That could get quite interesting’, Nines answered, already recalculating their theories on all people involved. ‘I suppose there are already people at the scene?’ ‘Yeah, another human-android-pair is leading the investigation’, Gavin provided. ‘We are just there to take a look.’ ‘Fine. When are we departing?’ ‘Now?’ Nines nodded and scooped up the car-keys from Gavin’s desk. ‘Then let’s go.’

They drove in silence except for the radio playing some rock from Gavin’s playlist. Nines didn’t have a favourite kind of music, but Gavin’s taste was enjoyable for him too. Around twenty minutes later they rolled up to a house in a fairly nice middle-class neighbourhood. Not the kind of environment to suspect a laboratory for Red Ice, but Gavin had learned never to judge people more than he needed to, because everyone could become an asshole, so much was certain. Nines parked the car on the sidewalk and wanted to leave, as he suddenly froze.

‘Nines? What’s wrong? Your LED is going nuts again.’ The android didn’t answer but he didn’t need to. Gavin could see the familiar figure of a foreign android standing in front of the house with a human next to him. ‘Hey, Nines, you can stay in the car, if you want. That wouldn’t be a problem at all, okay? Talk to me, are you alright?’ ‘...Yes’, he answered after a while, forcing himself to relax from his frozen state. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’ll come with you. There is no need to stay behind and you could need my eyes. I can see more than you, not to mean you any offense.’ ‘Fine. But it would be okay, you know that? I have worked alone prior to this and I would rather know you save than solving this case a bit faster.’ Nines disregarded that comment. ‘Let’s go, Gavin.’

They exited the car and Nines allowed the human to take the lead. They walked up to the two persons and Gavin greeted them as general as possible with a professional: ‘Good morning. I’m Detective Gavin Reed and this is Detective Nines, my partner.’ He tried not to address one of them or hold unbalanced eye contact. He knew androids could be superior officers now or be the more dominant one at the job. Just because Nines was more of a silent observer at his heels that didn’t mean every RK900 was. And if he knew one thing that should be universal, it was never to anger a model of the series. ‘Thank you. I’m Detective Richard and this is my partner Detective John Turner. I have to thank you for your quick appearance, as we have a murderer to find.’ Yep. Good idea not to assume things. ‘Then we would like to see the body’, Nines said drily, keeping eye contact for a creepily long time. ‘Bodies’, the other RK900 answered in the same neutral tone. ‘There is an android and a human casualty.’

Richard lead them into the house past orderly rooms and well-kept furniture. This was the home of their main suspect and so far, there were no signs of a hidden laboratory. Gavin got the impression their whole case was just about to be thrown back several months of work. He threw Nines an uncertain look that he answered with a yellow turn of his LED. The android was thinking the same. They entered the crime scene, little yellow signs littering the place marking important evidence. In midst of them laid two persons – a human on his back on the floor and an android on top of him. Next to both a Thirium regulator. Underneath both of them there had gathered a pool of purple – a disgusting stench of human blood and decay mixed with the chemical smell of Thirium that was unable to evaporate. ‘Phck’, Gavin muttered under his breath. ‘Is this too much for your human?’, Richard asked, clearly directed towards Nines. But he didn’t answer, just getting into a crouch next to Gavin to analyse the two bodies. His LED was turning red as he made the connection. ‘The thirium regulator belongs to the android and its removal seems to be the main cause for deactivation. The other wounds on it are younger, making a reactivation impossible.’ ‘We figured as much’, the other human Detective said. Gavin looked over at Nines, who held his own abdomen in empathy and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. He knew he had been tested on how long the RK900s were able to function without the regulator. It had been agonizingly long. ‘Hey, it’s okay if you want to-‘ ‘No. I’m fine.’

They both felt Richard taking a step into their direction. ‘I can understand if your past compromises your ability to function correctly, RK. I too heard of one of us deactivating already, I don’t want to-‘ ‘I am functioning correctly!’, Nines interrupted him with an underlining tone of supressed fury. ‘You don’t know shit about my past, so it would be greatly appreciated if you could just tell us what you already deducted.’ Gavin grinned into himself that he had managed to imprint on Nines enough to make him swear casually once agitated, but quickly caught himself as Richard recoiled and began to report.

‘My reconstruction showed that the android was most likely threatening the human or began an attack to kill him. The human reacted by pulling out the regulator but in the three minutes and seventeen seconds remaining the android managed to stab the human four times with the knife over there. There was an obvious struggle that would explain the wounds on both bodies.’ ‘Well, then it’s an easy case. But you said you were still looking for a murderer?’ Gavin stepped around the bodies to inspect the knife, only then seeing the faint sparkle of crystals on the ground around both. Richard opened his mouth to answer, but Nines was faster: ‘They lived together. Either friendship or some more intense relationship, it was unlikely for the android to attack.’ ‘But not impossible.’ ‘No. But there are trails of Red Ice around both, that are too perfect for an accidental spill. Someone decorated the scene after the murder.’ Richard nodded wordlessly and pushed two fingers into the neck of the android to let the artificial skin retract. It revealed a broken back panel on the main access port. Nines shuddered. ‘It was hacked’, Richard confirmed. ‘Also, the crime scene shows shoe-prints of a third party.’ ‘How much time passed since then?’, Gavin asked. ‘Maybe the murderer can still be tailed.’ ‘Unlikely’, Richards partner answered. ‘It was around three hours ago. Even if the murderer didn’t have a car, they would be too far away by now.’ ‘Wrong’, Nines interrupted again. ‘The murderer is still at the scene.’

‘How do you come to the conclusion?’, Richard asked. ‘There is no evidence for it.’ ‘No, but indications. This was been done to test us. To prove something.’ ‘Brother, I know that you have problems keeping your professional point of view due to what humans did to you, but-‘ ‘I am not your brother!’, Nines near shouted into Richards face. ‘We are the same model, that is all. And I can separate personal experience from work. But other than you it seems I can make use of that very experience. I know when I’m tested for something and this scene is a riddle for us, nothing more.’ ‘You should remove your android partner from the scene, Detective Reed. This is ridiculous.’ ‘I ain’t gonna do shit. He is right. How else would you explain the drugs sprinkled over and around them?’ ‘Maybe he used it. Maybe the murderer wanted to make it look like an accident. As if the human was intoxicated.’

‘No.’ Nines got down to one knee and knocked on the ground. ‘Clint Kerry is our main suspect for running a Red Ice laboratory. And our murderer knew this. Maybe they wanted to punish him, maybe they wanted to mask their own involvement, but sure enough they wanted to point the police towards it. This house has an undocumented basement. One entrance is underneath them. I suspect the other one to be at the stairs.’ ‘And what makes you think the person in question is still here?’ ‘They never left the house. There is inconsistency of the age of the foot-prints around the door and the stairs. As if paths were walked to knowingly set you on false tracks.’

Now it was Richard’s LED’s time to spin in a fast red. ‘You are… right.’ ‘He always is’, Gavin grinned openly. ‘Now what’s the plan?’ ‘We have to block both entrances and trap them for a confrontation’, Richard offered, allowing Nines to take over. Maybe the other android realised his mistake to underestimate Nines. ‘The humans to the stairs’, he willingly commanded for once. ‘They will expect people to find the trapdoor, not the concealed second entrance. If the murderer is armed, fire on this side will be more accurate and higher.’ Richard nodded and took Detective Turner’s hand to squeeze it affectionately, before stepping next to Nines. Immediately Gavin had to remember who was who, as both straightened their backs simultaneously. God, this was creepy. He followed the other man to the stairs and drew his weapon, as the two androids moved to pull the rug with both bodies on it to the side carefully. ‘Your Nines is really competent’, Turner admitted as they both were standing there relatively lost. ‘Rich told me working with him could be difficult.’ ‘Well, he can freeze from time to time when the memories take over. But he learned to live with it, and he hates people handling him like a raw egg more than everything. He also hadn’t wanted to meet with the rest of his series ever again. Considering this he is pretty diplomatic right now.’ ‘Well, you two are an enormous help right now, because we would have cleaned the scene, wrapped it up and searched for the murder. Who knows if we had ever found them.’

The two androids opened the trap door and drew their weapons. One of them looked up and met Gavin’s eyes and he knew this was Nines, who entered first. Then Richard disappeared in the whole in the ground and there was silence. The two humans waited anxiously, both deep in thoughts about their partners down there in possible danger. ‘We should go, too’, Gavin finally blurted out. ‘Just so we can help them should they need it. A distraction maybe.’ ‘Richard wouldn’t like this…’ That exact moment gunfire was waving over from the trapdoor and Gavin shook his head, already searching for the secret door and pulling it open with sheer force. ‘Phck Richard.’

He sprinted down the stairs and heard Detective Turner follow him. It was dark, but soon there was light as the man behind him had switched on his flashlight. They followed the sound of the fight and soon stood behind another android throwing his empty pistol into the face of one of the RK900s. It was impossible to tell who was Nines, as both moved with pre-programmed precision of their attack mode. The foreign android was defending itself against both models and even managed to land a few hits. It was about to be overwhelmed by them as it managed a lucky hit against the regulator of one RK900 that was quickly incapacitated for a few seconds. That made it easy to concentrate on the other one to disarm him and prepare to shoot him where it had hit the other one. ‘Hey, asshole freeze, DPD!’, Gavin shouted on the top of his lungs to distract it. Behind him Turner quickly shot and hit the android in the leg, causing it to crash to the ground. Still with perfect accuracy, the android aimed at Gavin and quickly pulled the trigger. The human saw the bullet in slow motion and braced for a pain that would never come, as there was suddenly an android in front of him – one of the RK900s.

‘Nines!’, Gavin screamed immediately, as blue blood sprinkled over his side from where the bullet had hit the android that crashed against him from the momentum of the leap. Quickly, both Turner and the other RK900 were on the android on the floor, keeping it down and disarming it again. Gavin didn’t waste a thought on them but let the wounded android sink to the floor and propped him against the wall. ‘Nines. Do you hear me? Talk to me!’ ‘How do you know it’s me?’, came the answer. ‘Nines!’ Gavin pressed down on the damaged part that was already resealing. ‘Phck, I know you buddy. You wouldn’t have been that compromised by a blow to the regulator, because you know worse pain. And you would have protected it better. You evaded more attacks than he did. And you leapt in front of me without a second thought. You may look the same, but you aren’t.’ Nines showed him a weak smile. ‘You also hoped for that fifty-fifty chance, didn’t you?’ ‘Oh come on! I really knew it was you, okay?’ ‘Yeah, I’ll let that pass. How’s the suspect?’ Nines tried to see over Gavin’s shoulder and the man gave way. Richard and Turner had handcuffed the android and send it into forced stasis as its struggle threatened to blow the restraints. They carried it upstairs and Gavin helped Nines up too.

Outside, their suspect was driven off by backup they had called, while Nines was patched up. Richard stood next to him, silently watching from the side as the emergency technicians extracted the bullet and started to repair the damage. Gavin and Detective Turner had reported what had happened to the Lieutenants of both precincts and now stood next to each other waiting for their respective androids. ‘He wanted to meet your RK900 for a long time’, Turner suddenly said. ‘Even more so as he heard of the… incident with the third. But he never dared approach him. Always waited for yours to make the first step. It was the only thing he willingly submitted himself to someone else’s will.’ ‘Nines had done his research. But he is very determined not to connect to anything or anyone from before his life at the police.’ ‘Well, we were a good team I suppose. I think Richard is glad to finally meet one of his own. We don’t have many androids at the precinct and he likes them better than humans.’

They watched how Nines stood up and looked over to Gavin and Turner, before turning to Richard, who stayed at a respectful distance. To Gavin’s surprise he stretched out his hand in an offer to interface. The other RK900 was hesitant, before quickly accepting it. Neither Gavin nor Turner knew what they were talking about, but in a few seconds, both smiled at each other and walked over to their humans.

Nines pulled Gavin into a close embrace, before whispering: ‘Let’s go home. I was shot at enough for one day.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #got carried away again #Good thing the fandom established multiple names #Nines seeing Richard: disgustang #Richard seeing Nines: *insert that spiderverse-meme*#Also why do I always make Nines suffer?

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daydreamindollie · 5 years

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Fragments Series: Just another incomplete written piece/plan/idea - not edited, not proofread, just raw writing w/ my notes

A/N: I wrote a bit of this while I was on holiday two years ago, I think. I really wanted to write my own hybrid au for BTS after being inspired by so many other writers out there, mainly @hollyhomburg , @magicalsalamander , @chimkookie , @daydream-hobii and SOOOO MUCH MOOORREEE! There are just so many talented people out there! Anyway, as this was written two years ago and I hadn’t looked at it since, please excuse any grammatical errors or just any errors really; back then, I tried to write better than I actually could so I’m sure many of the sentences are long-winded. But...yeah! The inspiration was there but without a proper plan, my vision wasn’t steady enough to maintain and just collapsed so...*sigh* another one for the fragments series, I guess...

WARNING: these may contain some of my notes, they will be indented and in italics so you can distinguish them from the writing.

Also, this may contain some prejudicial views and minor conflicts, nothing major but just so you are all aware x

✚ ✚ ✚

Never Before had you felt so excited to reach your journey’s destination. Seeing as you live almost a full hour away from the city, these time-consuming journies were a normality in your life but they were bearable because you always distracted yourself with music, something to read and would even just watch the scenery run by the car window. All previous times were bearable because distractions always held your attention with a vice grip and iron fist, not on this particular day, however.

Today, you would get your first ever hybrid.

You had begged your parents multiple times promising that you’d be responsible for them and that you would take care of them and love them with all your heart. Eventually, they grew convinced and launched at your rambling plea for one such companion.

“You can go get one tomorrow - heck get multiple! I know how lonely it gets here and we don’t want our hybrid to grow bored of you being its only other companion,” your father joked as you squealed with happiness and jumped into his arms, too happy over the long-awaited agreement.

Your parents could never say no to you for long, these were one of the times where they had tried to put their foot down, knowing the true requirements needed to own a hybrid. Deep down, however, they’d always given in because they loved spoiling their only, oh-so-precious daughter. If you asked for the world, there isn’t a doubt in their mind that they’d still say yes, after all, they have an immeasurable amount of money to spare and with such an amount they already had the world in their palms anyway.

Months of convincing and pleading has brought you to this moment of ultimate concentration and anticipation for one thing - a person’s incomparable and irreplaceable companion - a hybrid.

Even before your father’s agreement, you had long debated over the type of hybrid you’d prefer to have above all else. //You didn’t want the typical cat and dog, although that would be a rather tame decision, seeing as this would be your first ever hybrid and more information was available for them. //Maybe a bunny, the hybrid’s counterparts were always very endearing with their large doe eyes and extremely petite physique but hybrid-wise, that meant that they looked a lot like children and - you assume - would behave a lot like them too. Taking care of a child, although you’re very fond of them, isn’t something you wanna sign yourself up for just yet. In your head, you imagine a scenario where you’re able to chat and do fun activities with your hybrid like making up silly dances ti your favourite songs. There’s not a chance on this earth that you can do that with an exotic fish hybrid, they usually had fishtails instead of legs and looked very mermaid-like, meaning that only the richest had them, their mesmerising beauty was always a sight to behold and treasure although, however beautiful they may be, you’d rather be able to interact physically with your hybrid and not just stare at it. A peacock? you heard how high maintenance they were (alongside foxes) due to their animalistic traits coming ever so naturally to them/their counterparts not being usual house pets and therefore requiring more attention than usual.

All this debating leaves you to wonder over what particular hybrid you’ll end yo choosing and befriending; there’s so much to choose from with pros and cons to each. The idea of even getting one is surreal, there are butterflies exploding with a vivacious flurry within the depths of your stomach constantly, surprisingly able to lift the weight of your precious meal on their frail wings and leaving you toeing the edge of either anxiety or excitement. The feeling, no matter how confusing its effects may be, is something you welcome with open arms, the way a lover would embrace the flaws that were responsible for their partner’s perfection.

Throughout the lengthy travel, your nerves were itchy with impatience, which made your contemplation of the journey being shorter than expected after finally arriving, all the more peculiar. Your mind certainly has a distinct thought process in comparison to actual logic. Despite all that, it seems as though all of your previous excitement has been completely overtaken by an overwhelming sense of nervousness when facing the hybrid adoption centre.

It was a powerful-looking edifice, tall and broad, harbouring an abundance of rooms with a similar amount of occupants. Amoung those many rooms, lies your future companion and longtime friend. It’s a heart-thumping prospect, so why were you so antsy?

“Will they like me?” you hum thoughtfully to yourself, voice shaky and uneven with stress. This was your oppressing problem. You’re certain that you’ll find someone you’ll like but will they like you back? And even if they don’t, will you bring them home with you anyway? Just to know them better and have them eventually take a liking to you, perhaps? But what if they never grow fond of you? You can’t just ‘return‘ them, that’s absurd and so inhumane, it’s degrading; they can feel emotions more prominently than normal animals because they’re part human and vice versa. Your morals scream that you just can’t do that to a person.

Your stuttering thoughts should have deemed your form motionless but your body moved on its own as if one autopilot from your subconscious. You’re lead through the main doors, across the foyer and right to the front desk, where the lady behind the computer asked however she could help you.

“Um, I’m looking to adopt today,” you stated surprised at how reasonably steady your voice sounded.

“Do you have an appointment ma’am?”

“Sorry, no,” you pull a face of guilt, mentally shaming yourself for being unprepared.

“That’s alright! Do you have a particular type of hybrid in mind?”

“You shook your head ‘no’, “I’ve debated but I’m still very indecisive,” chuckling, the lady smiles up at you.

“Don’t worry miss, that’s usually the case. Is this your first adoption?” her hazel eyes blink curiously at you.

“Is it that obvious?” you muse nervously as you fiddle and fidget with your fingers.

“Don’t worry it’s only because I work here that it is,” she assures before typing away momentarily, only beginning to reach over to the phone beside her to look up at you again, “please take a seat while I get someone to help show you around,“

Nodding with a sheepish smile, you gingerly take a seat, smoothing down the lap of your pleated skirt before taking the time to observe the facility. On the far left, there was a large door labelled with a metal plate ‘NURSERY’, where you imagine the newly borns are kept and goo at the idea. To the right, there seems to be a very spacious room filled with many pastime activities such as sports balls (footballs and basketballs), skipping ropes, books, a TV and probably more things as your view was rather restricted even though the doors were glass. Behind and to the right of the front desk, is another door that states ‘ROOMS’, which is pretty self-explanatory to you but also sets your nerves ablaze with spine-tingling anticipation with what’s to come.

Inhaling a deep breath, you attempt to calm and tame your nerves as you pivot from where you’re seated, wanting to explore more of the place without having to walk around. You weren’t really expecting anything more but right behind you stood a tall black door. It seemed to hold secrets that begged you to unveil them.

The amount of time you spent staring at the barrier that held back any number of malicious or wonderful secrets was unknown but your gaze was foxed for long enough that your feet began to move on their own again. Soon enough, you were making your way down a dimly lit staircase to find a room occupied by several - more specifically seven - hybrids. There was: a cat, two dogs, a peacock, a fox, a fish and a bunny-rabbit?

You tilt your head and shyly wave your hand, your head slightly bowed in timidity, showcasing your bashful demeanour whilst also allowing your eyes to stare at them in wondrous fascination. This was your first time ever seeing a hybrid in person and there were seven right in front of you. //“Hello,” you whisper, meeting the gaze of the only cat who hisses in warning at you, causing you to jump in place, your heart ready to fly out of your chest. You felt the nerves in your body preparing to run if need be but they instantly calmed at the sight of the bunny. As opposed to the pierce almond-eyed cat, the bunny appeared to reflect your anxiety, it was an endearing sight, but he was also beautiful, as a matter of fact, all of the hybrids present were ethereal in beauty.

The peacock in your peripheral view was especially so, you felt as though he could resemble a prince from a fairytale, even so, the bunny had your full attention. He was nothing like a child as most should look like, he possessed the build of a male with thick thigh muscles, which was probably due to his bunny genes but it was still unusual (in a good way) to see a different beauty representing bunny hybrids.

“What’s your name?” you ask after reaching the cage bars, eyes caring and warm and unable to hold back your elation. He gave no answer, only a frightened stare, making you furrow your brows. “What’s the matter? Don’t you have one?” you gently press for a response, eyes pleading for him to speak.

“I’ve...I’ve never been adopted before...” he finally speaks, his voice like a finely tuned harp, having all things that leave his lips be melodious and musical.

Your eyes widen in surprise, “but you're so beautiful...” you whisper to yourself, smiling fondly when you see a faint blush dusting his cheeks, “maybe you can finally have one if you agree to come home with me,” the instant those words left your lips, the other hybrids, who were looking on at your interaction cautiously, panicked. The peacock and dog shielded the bunny with their bodies as the other pup and the fox embraced him, leaving you to jump at the cat’s loud hissing as the fish banged a tight fist at his tank’s wall. //’Why were they being so protective?’ you ponder, not realising that the cat was reaching for you, past the bars of the cage, with his sharp nails drawn and bare, ready to strike. Just as he was about to claw at your face, a hand grabbed your upper arm and pulled you back.

“Miss, you shouldn’t be down here!” a man with woodchip hair warns, drawing a taser from his back pocket and going for the cat, which you screamed at.

“What are you doing?!” you snatch his arm back, expression scrunched up in worry and anger.

“This lowlife was going to attack you, ma’am,” he reasons, brows knitted together with confusion.

“Lowlife?...”

“yes ma’am - was going to attack you, a human,”

“I don’t care about that, I must’ve done something wrong in his eyes. I’m sure it was pure instinct for him to lash out,”

“But-”

“if you’re so concerned about them behaving ‘improperly‘, why don’t you teach them by being civil yourself and lead by example,” you huff, “people behave by copying others’ actions, don’t ya know?” you can’t believe how angry you’ve become since you only ever use shortened expressions when your temper was truly pronounced.

“Ma'am, you really shouldn’t be here,” he warns, finally tucking away his taser, consequently calming your nerves, something all hybrids picked up on and raised a curious brow at after calming down themselves.

“I know I’m not, I’m sorry for wandering off without fair warning or reason,” you try to be civil but your curiosity is peaked, “but can I ask ‘why‘ I’m not allowed here?”

“Simply put, it’s too dangerous down here ma’am...” you note how his voice wavers and his eyes are restlessly examining the room, not keeping eye contact with you for too long.

“Dangerous?...” you turn to the hybrids with worried eyes, an expression they were unfamiliar with and don’t quite know how to interpret, “why are these hybrids here then?“

“Ma’am,” the worker hesitates, “these hybrids are the reason why it’s so dangerous,”

“I...I don’t understand...” you mutter, unable to comprehend how people with such sad, gentle eyes could harbour such a threat. The employee with the taser is more threatening to you.

“We should really get you upstairs now ma’am. I can show you to the hybrids that you will definitely favour,” he puts on a weak smile as he attempts to lead you up the stairs behind you, only to falter in his steps when you abruptly pull away and step towards the cages once more, dismissing the worried gaze the male flashes you.

“I’ve already made my decision though, so I won’t need to go upstairs,” all eyes in the room visibly widen at your proclamation as you smile in innocent excitement.

“Who?!”

“The bunny please, if he’”s alright to go with me, that is,” you give the bunny a timid smile, staring into his large doe eyes as you try to tame the butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible ma’am,”

You pout, “and why’s that?” your tone is stern but also childish in some way, much like how a child would deliver demands during a strop.

“Well, it’s impossible because if you want one, then you’ll need to adopt all of them.” now, it’s time for your eyes to widen.

“How come?”

“They’ve formed a very peculiar group-pack-alliance,” he sighs as you take a moment to look at the seven hybrids together, it was definitely a strange but lovely picture, “they always cause trouble by lashing out at whoever draws near, especially the cat. Many workers have quit from needing to go have some treatment done on scratches from him. This is why it’“s so dangerous here, they may look harmless but they can really hurt you, and it’s extremely expensive to adopt all seven. I, along with the rest of my coworkers, strongly advise that you don’t even think of adopting any from this group.”

You ponder for a moment, contemplating all your options as you stare at all seven hybrids collectively, “There’s no other way for me to bring the bunny home?”

“I’m sorry but no,” he says sternly, “please, just let me take you upstairs ma’am,”

“Is it possible for me to come here at a regular basis?” you turn back to him, having completely ignored his advice, “So that I can befriend them all before taking them home with me?”

The worker’s jaw drops, “you actually want to adopt all of them?”

Facing all hybrids, you smile, eyes sparkling, “why not?”

[MAYBE END OF CHPT.ONE?????START CHPT.TWO???⇣]

Yet again, you find yourself taking another long journey to the hybrid adoption centre, giddy with butterflies after a long week of waiting. It would have been easy for you to take the journey every day but you knew how high gas prices were and didn’t want to trouble your parents in spite of knowing their wealth. You were also adamant in being eco-friendly.

In your hands, you fiddly with the wrap of a large bento box, there were six others surrounding you filled with homecooked meals that you’ve put your heart and soul into. Hopefully, they’ll like what you’ve cooked; you did your best to research what particular hybrids liked. Bunnies loved carrot cake, cats like friend fish, dogs loved meat, foxes too, fish liked anything with bread and peacocks were very fancy with exotic fruits and such. It was a lot of fun to make but you also wanted to introduce them to other foods too. Most of the dishes were advised from the website most prominent in providing hybrid care information but you also included your favourite dishes, hoping to bond with them over something you liked similarly.

“Good morning!” you greet the secretary, flashing a peppy smile which she returns hesitantly, eyes hovering over the bentos that were piled high in your arms, “I hope this is okay,“ you lift the lunches before quickly making your way down to the basement, too blinded by the excitement of finally making your own friends to notice that the secretary had just begun to protest, only to face the slam of a door.

“I’m back!” you announce, giggling as you finally make it down the last step, “And I’ve brought lunches!“ again, you lift the bentos with a huff from their weight before setting them down. Facing up, you quickly note the surprised look all hybrids harboured just as you were about to ask what was wrong, your bunny spoke up.

“You came back...” his eyes were wide and his form rigged, completely unbelieving of the fact that you had returned.

“Of course I came back. I said that I would sooooo...here I am!” you gesture to yourself with a glint of mischief in your eyes, “Anyway, are you guys hungry? I made lunch,”

“We’re not hungry,” the cat snapped stubbornly from the back of the room, black ears and tail flicking in annoyance.

[MAYBE REAL END OF CHAPTER ONE????]

please remember that this is, unfortunately, not going to be continued as it is a part of my ‘Fragments’ Series, where I just post works that I have discontinued, maybe still in its drafting/notes-infused stage. I know it might seem like a pointless series but I’m proud of all my works and love to share more than I should.

#bts hybrid au #bts x reader #DRAFT

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borderlandscast · 5 years

Note

sorry!! I was the one who sent the anon about the development, and yeah, I meant how their character changed as the story went on. but also, what were some things that changed from the initial starting point in the story?

okay, not a problem! let’s do this. my random three picks: zoeya, lalna, and parvis. i’ll think about maybe doing posts for the others but shoves that onto future self. thank you for clarifyingthis ask! it was a pleasure to answer, and apologies for how long this got.

zoeya

her role is basically a xenobiologist traveling to pandora to research fauna and flora. unfortunately, her assistants continued to ditch her given the dangerous nature of the work.

working solo, zoeya continued after many setbacks and was close to giving up after rythian left (for different reasons than what she’d assume though). and then teep showed up.

zoeya’s bubbly, sunny and talkative personality unnerves a lot of people since you’d think all that would be ground out of her at the end of the first day but nope. zoeya’s greatest strength is in her persistence. she never needed coddling, which almost everyone made the mistake of doing since they also assume she’s naive. she proves them wrong later since death (and to a lesser extent, suffering and pain) is a part of life, which is showcased often in her field.

that said, her greatest weakness is her self doubt and insecurities, whether it’s about herself, her job or her relationships. she has a lot of unspoken anxieties on a daily basis, which hinders her ability to function. she shows signs of adhd too; this is especially evident in the scene where teep shows up and her life is a big Mess, from the way she organises her paperwork, her constant clutter and chaotic workflow.

she has a positive impact on teep and vice versa. for the longest time, she couldn’t open up, and now she has this extraordinary assistant who can actually read her handwriting, is not a wimp about foreign bodily fluids, can handle threats without a blinking an eye, can follow instructions after being told only once; yeah, teep’s her dream assistant. problem: they’re stone cold and unreceptive to her ramblings...or so it appears.

zoeya brings the best out in people; she has a grounding effect. whenever i wrote her into a scene, i had to take a different mindset than say, one i’d have for rythian, rythian is cautious, and usually doesn’t do anything without a plan. zoeya, on the other hand, is free of these restrictions. she’s a very emotional person, which plays off nicely against a bigger backdrop of stoic, reserved and colder cast.

she was never intended as a ‘oh, i’m here for you, always!’ sidelines character which is a cliche role; she takes direct actions throughout borderlandscast, such as being the first outsider to see rythian’s mutilated back. she reacts with a little bit of horror, but ultimately reaches out with a compassionate hand. she also ran inside a burning building to get teep. she also is a frontliner in the bandit battle, at the cost of her hand.

losing her hand wasn’t intended until i browsed the old blackrock vids and hit upon the arc where rythian and co end up in the desert and she needs chocolate milk to survive, and uh, things clicked.

zoeya suffers a permanent consequence for her heroic actions in saving sanctuary hole. does she regret it? no! she does her best to move on, with the support of her loved ones. she may have been an anxious wreck throughout the whole event but she never let it stop her from doing the right thing.

lalna

lalna’s role was mysterious from the start to his companions; his concussion impeded his thoughts and rationality. slowly peeling back the real reasons how he ended up on pandora was part of the story.

he was always going to be rythian’s companion, and unfortunately, was going to betray him later. playing up to that was difficult, since i was starting from scratch in an au compared to blackrock where tensions preexisted.

lalna and rythian are both lonely people, and lonely people tend to gravitate towards each other even if their personalities are at odds. i didn’t detail lalna and rythian’s initial journey together but you can tell that they’ve gotten used to each other by the time nanosounds shows up.

i intentionally wrote lalna to be a scaredy cat but differently to nilesy, parvis and zoeya. normal people don’t cope well with being thrown onto a murderous, lawless place, let alone being stranded. lalna handles it reasonably well at first but then there’s the icing on the cake: killing other people.

thus begins lalna’s spiral into the sad mess that he becomes just before tlvh c12 happens. that ended all civilities between him and the main vault hunters.

negative character development where someone truly regrets their actions should be explored more often! lalna didn’t exactly redeem himself in the final battle but he definitely showed that he’s taking his first steps.

sometimes people try to justify doing terrible things because that’s a very human thing to do. lalnable’s own rigid moral compass was foil to lalna’s own weak, wavering one. it also provided another reason for the conflict where lalna nearly throttles him to death but chooses not to, since that’d violate his whole motive for backstabbing rythian.

lalna is driven by selfishness disguised as protective love for his twin. he’s one of the more selfish people in this au.

his loneliness likely drove him to build larry robert, a friend who’d never abandon him.

i don’t think lalna is an idiot; he’s secretly crafty and actually quick thinking, especially when it comes to his specialties. he’s impulsive though, and he doesn’t like to think about the consequences until the dust clears. this gets better closer to the end since he chooses to go back and help the vault hunters, after he provokes arsenal into beating the shit out of him. that uh, takes some serious guts.

he’ll heal his relationship with rythian eventually. where rythian would once have cut ties with lalna, rythian’s open to trying again, something that lalna is deeply grateful for.

parvis

parvis is interesting as a character since he’s so multi-faceted while still being recognisable as himself. i wrote him to be a bandit, but not a bandit, as paradoxical as that sounds.

he was designed to have every bit of confidence as possible or projecting as much; backstage, he dials back on the loudness and is a little awkward but cares deeply with all the finesse of a brick in a sock. he rivals ravs in terms of social awareness, which is how he easily picked up on will’s need for a friend.

his sewing hobby was added much later, it provides him a valuable skill since bandits probably tear up their own clothes often. plus, plenty of civilians and vault hunters could do with repairs every once in a while. being one of the friendlier bandits around, parvis has a secret reputation as a tailor. he only tries a little to deny it.

parvis intensely dislikes conflict but pretends he does, if only to keep the masses happy (his own lieutenants are bloodthirstier than he is, a rarity on pandora). okay, he might enjoy it a little but the consequences of getting hurt far outweigh the adrenaline rushes. he gets over this ridiculously fast when he’s out for blood in the name of a friend (as in the case of one will strife during the jailbreak), or if something he likes is threatened (like his precious stronghold).

as sparkles pointed out, parvis’ leadership capabilities and knack for keeping a whole bandit gang united under one flag (with a love of music, of all things) is pretty much peerless. parvis has a goddamned gift. it’s why he’s so well-liked by each of his ‘fans’, and why he’s so popular on the echonet. he gets to know all of them equally, and rarely plays favourites. he doesn’t let the attention go to his head, much.

the illliteracy part is common amongst bandits but reading sheet music doesn’t take much; parvis is very insecure and touchy about his inability to read and write, but lalnable helps him with that. he also helps parvis get over his fear of blood and pain in the most direct way possible. it’s voluntary on parvis’ part since parvis rocks up to the clinic on a daily basis since hanging out with lalnable is greater than getting nausea over drawing blood.

parvis really steps up to the plate in ‘the battle of sanctuary hole’. he has major self doubts abouts his ability to succeed in battles despite the bloody bandits’ amazing track record of occupying the dam stronghold against multiple attacks. his big, gay ‘crush’ on daltos may have factored into his decision to pick up his gun and finally jump into the fray.

the ‘crush’ part is parvis working through a complex series of feelings. as sparkles noted, parvis develops and abandons crushes very quickly (about as fast as he loses guitar picks; his one on ravs is one of his longer standing ones). it stems from wanting to get to know people; being famous fucks a lot with parvis’ ability to make genuine friends. he goes back and forth on relationships when his doubts surface.

parvis is aromantic and asexual but is grey on both counts. he doesn’t know what both orientations are called, and unless he has a ‘i like people but not in that way’ session with daltos (aro, bi), teep (aro, ace) or hybridpanda (aro, ace), he’s not in a big rush to find out.

he just wants to be friends with everybody, except for when he or they’re crossed; parvis has a big vindicative streak to him that’s a big bandit trait. fortunately, parvis is as revenge driven as panda or sjin is.

some things that changed as the story went on (off the top of my head):

length of the story and word count; did not anticipate on it spanning across six plus side stories and a main one, or over three years.

arsenal’s role in ‘the battle of sanctuary hole’; he fucked up almost as badly as daltos did, which accelerated the blitzkreig blighter’s quest for destruction and revenge. whoops. but he fixed that by diving in to save his bestue, and failed at that. nobody’s perfect! except boner.

minty! minty wasn’t envisioned until i needed someone to run concordia. martyn and turps weren’t available since they’re both land locked, but then along came minty.

elsa being a major catalyst for the complete destruction of pandora and the universe. it was a joke, but then it happened.

rythian’s relationship with the queen; he nurtured a close bond with her, which she broke when she tried to escape her vault once she got too jealous of freedom. if things had turned out differently, they could have been friends and the universe would have doomed another way.

nanosounds losing her left arm; i think i talked about this in a post a long, long time ago but the consequences of a siren losing her tattooed arm? hasn’t been seen yet, wanted to explore it.

the legendary that was dropped in the vault of the queen; its name is ‘enderbane’, and is currently in rythian’s possession after honeydew gave it to him, thus breaking the curse of ‘no vault hunter shall own a legendary’. he has no idea what it does since he hasn’t tested it out yet, and is a little afraid to do so considering it’s an eridian weapon. didn’t plan on including it as a drop but usually loot is good on a final boss, so there.

ANNOUNCEMENT OF BORDERLANDS 3!!!!!!! since borderlandscast is almost wrapped up, nothing will change content wise but since there’s a giant time gap that exists, we’ll see how i fit the epilogue in since that’s a big playground.

#borderlandscast: ask #long post

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a-shakespearean-in-paris · 5 years

Text

Writer’s Questionnaire

tagged by @galadrieljones! Thanks! :)

Short stories, novels, or poems? I write a lot of short scenes, but I prefer reading novels as well as writing them. It’s so fun to see how your character grows and changes, how they develop, and how things you thought would happen don’t, or happen in a way different from what you imagined. It’s wonderful, though difficult. (Constantly I have to ask myself have I used this turn of phrase in the story before?)

What genre do you prefer reading? Looking at the books that caught my interest of late, (and in general) the stuff I read has some sort of family dynamic present. More often than not, there’s also a love story. Typically my favorite books are sagas that take place over different generations. (thorn birds one of them, and when I was younger and read a lot of Sidney Sheldon, one of my favorites of his was Master of the game, which took place over fifty years of family. my older self though now really likes Rage of Angels...I would love to like modernize that story...) My dream is to write a long family saga one day.

What genre do you prefer writing? there’s no contest: Romance. I was once very adamant about not using that word due to the stigma behind the romance genre, very keen on...a story about two people who happen to be in love! But you know..it’s romance. I’m just endlessly fascinated by the different ways people can fall in love, and how their love manifests and effects others.

Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person? Hmmmm.....a little of both. With Our Immortal longings I made an outline of events, but things changed, shifted around, or flat out didn’t happen. Back in the day I was very strict on following the outline I wrote, but now I’ve finally found the happy medium of following it but understanding the story is going in a different direction. I think one of the reasons my modern AU is stagnant right now is because I didn’t make an outline.

What music do you listen to while writing? Usually I don’t. However, there are a few scenes I have written throughout my resume where there was a song I replayed over and over again, because it just fit the mood. So now when I listen to one of those songs, all I can think about is the scene. :)

Fave books/movies? Hmmm I have books that have meant a lot to me over the years. East by Edith Pattou (which now has a sequel. Like..wha?) The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCoullogh, Phantom by Susan Kay. I also love so many plays. Of course Shakespeare, but also Anton Chekhov.

Movies: Howl’s Moving Castle is arguably my biggest inspiration. And when I watched gone with the wind when I was 12 I swear it changed me. I wasn’t used to seeing female characters being so unapologetic, and while I certainly don’t idolize Scarlett O’hara, I find her endlessly interesting as a character. Some other favorites are The Sound of Music, That Hamilton Woman, Wuthering Heights(1939), Bridesmaids. And I saw the new A Star is Born and it’s on my eternal favorites list.

Any current WIPs? My DBH fic has become my main focus, Our Immortal Longings. (Which I would really love to shorten to Immortal Longings but hey what can you do.) I also have a post blight fic with cullen, that details the relationship he develops with one of the chantry sisters. I also have a modern AU with Cullen and Lydia. I like the fic in theory, and I was experimenting away from the romantic feel of my previous work to something blunter and more realistic (for lack of a better word.) But I just feel for Connor’s character when I played DBH, and I really wanted to tackle how he would deal with falling in love. In the process I seriously became enamored with my own OC and the dynamic she has with him. Odd because I was never interested in robots or stories about robots before...but now...well....look at all the possibilities!

also I had a MGIT story about a Shakespearean actress. I’m sorry to those who liked the story, but I’m not going to continue with it.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be? A pink colored sundress decorated with flowers, and ballet flats. My hair is big and curly.

Create a character description for yourself: She was alive. That was always good, though perhaps not in the best of her appearances with her glasses on, face unmade and hair in a messy bun. She was also wearing one of her dumpy nightshirts. But again, she was alive, and she was writing. Every single word she wrote was a victory.

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing? Bits of them sure, not blatant insertions to where people I know would know. Maybe just a wink.

Are you kill-happy with characters? Well, people do die IRL and in my writing. But I wouldn’t say I’m kill happy. IWD had two causalities. Will OIL have any? Well....I can’t answer that. Some of my favorite movies/books have poignant deaths, and I will admit the one major death scene that happened on screen in IWD was very cathartic and powerful for me.

Am I George RR Martin kill happy though? no.

Coffee or tea while writing? Morning: coffee. Night: Tea.

Slow or fast writer? I’m reasonably fast, though it certainly depends. sometimes it takes me a while to start.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from? Everything and anything. I always have my eyes peeled. When I was in Disney I came up with so many scenarios for Connor and Sophie, and yesterday doing sparklers and fireworks with my family I imagined a Cophie new year, lol.

mainly though? Music. Definitely music.

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be? In my best life I’m a bard that follows along an adventurer and becomes their companion as they travel the the world.

Most fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche? I’m a sucker for a lot of romantic tropes. The dance of romance, forehead touches, died in your arms, (Is that morbid? lol I’m sorry I just find it so dramatically satisfying.) I love broody guy, gentle girl and variations of that trope. Friends to lovers. in fact I view my two OtPS a variation of the above. I probably have more too. Bedsharing too. I did bedsharing back before I knew everyone else loved it too :)

I’m of the opinion that most things can work if done properly but least favorite is by far the whole liar revealed story arc. at best I tolerate it, but...no. Just no. I’m getting a little tired of “we can’t be together” story lines and love triangles too. I also have tropes that I think are okay but everyone else loves: fake dating. (I know, I know. I even have my own fake dating story too. mostly I wrote it because I wanted to see if I could grow to like it.) and dramatic height differences. but this is mostly because I’m tall, and when I read young adult fiction as a youth, the LI was always so much taller than the herione...and I’m salty ok? lol.

OH on young adult books: I’m tired of the heroine that “isn’t like other girls because I’m tough and reclusive and I don’t like makeup or whatever” (BELLA SWAN) I would like 2019 to be the year that I say you can be a powerful female and still like things that are traditionally feminine, and there should be no shame in it. I love writing characters that draw their strength through their femininity, because guess what...it’s not inherently weak!

Fave scenes to write? I love scenes where the characters just talk. I love grand romantic gestures. I love moments of reflection. And of course, I love a love scene. :p

Most productive time of day for writing? When the muse strikes.

It’s also strange to me that I most want to write when I’m in a crowd of people. maybe sometimes I feel like people are talking without listening and I feel a bit lonely so I imagine my characters, because they make me feel less lonely.

Reason for writing? I always have in some way. The simple reason? I like to. It’s my therapy and my art. I just do :)

this took a long time for some reason! tagging @bitchesofostwick @negotiator-on-site @inquisitorsmabari @fourletterepithet @whatsherfacewrites @laraslandlockedblues @out-of-the-embers @ladymdc

#writing meme

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kaytewrites · 5 years

Text

polaris [asa&honor]

a piece about my centaur bard, asa, after a battle on the ship that’s been giving him so much grief. features honor, tiefling fighter, and mentions several other members of the party: leliana, silvenesti elf fighter; whitechapel, kagonesti elf ranger; theo, gnome wizard; melric, dwarven cleric; and balgruf, dwarven barbarian.

rating: G warnings: n/a word count: 1972

Asa thinks the closest he's ever been to a miracle is probably Melric when he starts up all his healin’ shindig. Feels like a warm, glowy hug it does, even if it don't get rid of the itchy feeling your skin holds after. Maybe that's just Asa.

Anyway. The second nearest thing had to be Honor. Honor, wrangling a tentacle into position for a perfect shot from Leliana, and in the next breath looking at Asa with those fangs of his bared and yelling out, “On your feet, soldier!” And just - up he got.

Asa can feel a flush fighting for attention on his face as he thinks about it, plucking out a lullaby on his lyre and humming a gentle tune as he sits with the rest of the wounded. Music helps healing. He knows that much. Music's always been good for that.

But the battle. Tentacles. He feels a little embarrassed at his reaction to those words. He'd just been so damn inspired. He'd kicked a tentacle clear of the damn ship, and even though he'd hit his knees right after, it had been worth it for the little flash of pride he'd seen in Honor's eyes.

He lets it play back in his head like he always does, working through the last lingering spats of adrenaline. He sighs as he remembers letting Balgruf slip from his grasp and splash into the dark water below, guilt staining his mood. He lets it linger for exactly ten seconds, counting it out.

(You can be angry, Asa. You can be mad, be sad, be frustrated, be scared. But you can't let it rule you. His Paw had put a hand on his shoulder, looking down at him with that serious glint in his eyes he got when he was trying to tell Asa something important. You have to make sure it's worth it.)

He breathes out. The guilt washes away, and he hums again, eyes closed. Balgruf’s alright, and so’s Whitechapel. All of ‘em are alive. Leliana even survived a nasty bout of friendly fire from the gnome - but Theo wasn't too bad himself, either, once he figured out where to aim.

Almost like clockwork, Asa opens his eyes and looks off to the left. Honor's there, leaning against an undamaged bit of railing, looking towards him. Asa gives him a little smile and a tip of his head, and decides to try a new trick.

《Hey there, partner,》he messages to Honor, hoping he's got the trick of it down right. From the startled look on his face, he can assume that yeah, he's got it.《Y’look a lil’ lonely there, Honor.》

His face scrunches in a way Asa is damn tempted to call adorable, and he hears a faint response in his head, like a whisper on the breeze. 《Asa?》

Honor's voice is a little different over the magic - there's less gravel to it, less of that odd doubled effect, and Asa almost doesn't recognize it.《The one’n only.》He hums a happy little tune, not certain if he sends that too or not. He debates for a moment whether or not to ask, but it won't any question, really. Not when it's Honor. 《You wanna come sit over here a spell? I'm findin’ myself a little lonely over here.》

Honor hesitates for just a moment, but Asa don’t mind. Honor’s always been a private sort of person in the couple of weeks he’s known him (and don’t that just boggle the mind. Weeks, he’s known the man, and he’s letting Honor ride him. Oh, if the herd could see him now.). Asa pauses plucking long enough to pat the deck and grin. Honor folds to the ground next to him, sitting upright and just far enough to not touch him. That’s the other thing, too - Asa ain’t been around a lot of fire-touched in his life, but he’s been around soldiers plenty, and they’re always touchin’ and singin’ and bein’ all about battlefield camaraderie. Did no one let Honor in on that one, the same way he had to figure out he had a smile?

Asa sighs. That just won’t do. He hums a little tune, low and soft, and nudges Honor with his elbow. 《I know ya gotta be achin’ a little bit after all that horsin’ around. Y’ain’t gotta sit so stiff. You can lean up against me - gotta be better than that railin’, too.》

Honor looks up at him with something he can’t name in his eyes - it ain’t fear, no, and it ain’t anger. Something like worry, or maybe even a little like surprise.

(Asa remembers feelin’ like that, too. Like the first time Whitechapel said his name, or the first time someone gave him a hug after he left the herd. Like he forgot what it meant to have people around that cared. It’s a scary feeling. Little bit like hope.

What must Melric feel like all the time? Asa lets the thought fade. He’s got Honor to worry about, right now.)

《Didn’t get hurt too badly,》Honor tells him - but he still, quietly and slowly, scoots a little closer, and every inch feels like a little victory in Asa’s chest. He doesn’t know why he’s so taken with Honor, but it’s a damn fine feeling. The tiefling’s got something about him that makes Asa want to trust him.

Eventually, Honor leans against his side, still stiff as a board, and Asa clicks his tongue, half-admonishment, half-amused. 《I ain’t that bad a pillow, am I?》Honor looks a little guilty at that, and Asa grimaces. 《Hey now, don’t worry about it. We’re worryin’ ‘bout feelin’ better right now.》

He breathes in, out, letting his shoulders fall, and starts singing.

It ain't real loud - Asa doesn't do loud, not for this. This is for healing. Sylvan’s easy as breathing to speak, and easier to sing, ‘specially for this. “Soft as a lover's sigh, softer than a lover’s kiss / as lover’s breath in lover’s ear, to thee I whisper this.”

He don’t make a real habit of singing like this. Music’s got a magic all it’s own, and Asa thinks of it like hearing his own heartbeat and playing along to it for everyone else. It’s all emotion. When he needs something to go down in a fight, an insult’ll do just as well as a song. He doesn’t think he’s sang for any of his companions yet, ‘cept for Whitechapel. It’s something - personal. When you really want something to stick.

“I’ve loved you years and years before, and years and years to come / from frozen peak to ocean shore, for thee I’ll see it done.”

And there it is. Asa can feel that warmth in his chest like a flower; and there’s another spot of it, too, leaning against his side. Honor’s always so warm to the touch - Asa’s struck by it whenever he touches the fire-touched, and he thinks he understands why they’re called that, now. Around him, the pained gasps and little pained movements begin to cease, easing into something more restful, less wounded.

Even Honor feels more relaxed at his side. Asa keeps singing. (“Dragons rage and roar and kill, and steal your heart from me / but never fear, my sweetest love, I’ll always rescue thee,” his mama sang, and Asa let his head rest on her back, drowzy in the afternoon sunlight.)

He hasn’t thought about his herd, his parents this much in years. Hasn’t seen them in nearly the same. Wars are hard to keep touch in. He doesn’t even know if they’re still alive.

He sings ‘till the song is done, and sags when it’s over. He forgot how much that takes out of him. He shuffles his legs beneath him, just a little - they’re starting to get that prickly feelin’ that means he’s been sittin’ too long. He thinks about getting up and going below decks, but -

- but, he hears the softest little sigh, and feels Honor relaxed against his side. He turns to look at him, and the tiefling has an arm on Asa’s back, his head pillowed against it. His eyes are shut, and his breathing is slow and even.

Well. Asa doesn’t like going below decks, anyway. They can stay out a little longer.

He looks up at the stars. It takes him a minute, but he can find her just fine - a quintet of stars that makes a harp in the sky. His Pa taught him that one. He watches her twinkle - imagines she's winking at him from the sky, and he tips his head and gives her a wink in return, just because he can.

“What are you - winking at?” He hears Honor growl behind him, and Asa flashes him a wink and a smile, too. Not as asleep as he thought, then.

“Nothing but the stars,” he says, and nods his head up. “See? They’re winkin’ at us, too. Thought I’d return the favor.”

Honor - smiles, and Asa doesn’t need to wonder why he’s been thinking of home so much. “Stars don’t wink.” Honor’s voice is deadpan, but Asa’s in on the joke, now, and it seems they’ve made their own space - ain’t no sea, ain’t no ship, just them and the stars watching each other.

“Sure they do!” Asa exclaims, flabbergasted. “See? Look up there! Each’n every twinkle - I swear on my coat that’s a wink. The stars are the biggest flirts in the world, up there winkin’ at us all the time.” He points to the harp, and almost as if on cue, two of the stars seem to almost dim and then sparkle once more in the sky.

Honor looks up, not bothering to straighten where he’s laying half on Asa’s back. “I still don’t think they’re winking.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree, hm? And when we get up there, we’ll see who’s right.” Asa gives him a wide smile, leaning down to nudge him with his elbow. He hesitates for half a second, unsure if the contact is welcome -

Fuck it, he thinks, and wraps an arm around Honor’s shoulders instead. It’s an impressive contortion of his upper torso, but he lets the near-hug drag on for a long moment before he pulls himself upright once more. “We should get back below decks. Steal a few winks o’sleep while we can. Supposed to make land tomorrow, right?”

“Right,” Honor says, and it seems a little distant. He must be more tired than he let on.

“C’mon, partner.” Asa wiggles his rear, making Honor sit up straight, and then cants up on unsteady legs. After a moment, he gets his feet under him and offers a hand to the soldier on the ground.

Honor takes it, and they make their way back to the corral. Asa peels out of his maille - he has to get Honor’s help to pull the back off his horse half, which is always an adventure - and folds his coat right’n proper. With his hat laying on top, he grabs the two little stubs of cotton he’s kept in his shirt pocket and plugs ‘em in his ears.

He glances over at Honor and sees him looking over. He unplugs one of his ears and smiles back at him. “G’nite, partner. We did good today, right?”

Honor takes a second to smile back, but when he does - well, Asa thinks it might be the best one yet. “Yeah. We did good, I think.”

“Awright!” He pumps a hand in the air, and grins wide. “We’ll keep bein’ heroes in the mornin’. Right now, I’m gonna sleep until we hit land. Don’t wake me till we see birds.”

He gives Honor a wink, too, and plugs his ear again - but not before he hears a quiet, gravelly “Goodnight, Asa.”

#d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dungeons & dragons #dragonlance #centaur #tiefling #artemisius rhook #honor the tiefling #did yall know. did yall know he has a southern accent #because he does #and it was the best character choice i've ever made

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lonelypond · 6 years

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Casual Lunacy, Ch. 44

Love Live, NicoMaki, 2.1K, 44/?

Summary: How is our favorite werewolf/redhead coping with a night at the theatre?

Tuesday’s Gray, Part 3

Intermission. A break. Outside. Away from Nozomi. Away from so many misleading sensations. Smells not matching voices, actions not matching emotions. All a muddle, and Nico at the heart of it, Nico and Kashima, magic and musk strengthening with every gasp or confident stride. Nozomi alert to Maki’s every twitch. Sensation overflow. Barely a moon buried under banks of clouds, barely a thrum, low levels of late evening noise. Weather was going to get bad, Maki could smell the wet, waiting snow. But she could breathe here, for a few minutes before she had to go back inside, to finish the full Fangs experience. Maki wanted this to be over, so over, so she could just go back to Nico’s place and…

Maki howled, softly, suddenly lonely and longing for a caress and Nico to lean into. But no, back inside, to watch Nico on stage, ruby eyed dynamite unleashing all that vitality, creating moments, catching the interest of anyone watching, like she did at the party, heartbeats raised, heads tilted, everyone’s eyes following Nico. Nico thrived on the attention, her delight coming through every sense. And Maki was happy for Nico, really she was, although suddenly waking from a new lovers haze to find herself so connected to someone so connected to so many others’ reactions was a shock. Then, as Maki was processing this new Nico, who wasn’t really a new Nico, just a Nico who had kept all her focus on Maki for too brief a while and was now renewing her contacts with the world, there was old Nico suddenly surging on the Lakefill, surprising Maki, leading Maki into that tiny control room and stripping away all the emotions, leaving them both breathless with the physicality, the fierceness of the bond between them. That had been…unsettling. And sexy, sensual, provocative, risky, raw. But Maki kept returning to how off balance she had felt as Nico bounced out of the room, blowing a kiss, heading to conquer the stage as confidently as she had just conquered Maki. And once again, Maki had found herself sliding, unsteady on breaking, drifting ice over emotional depths she was afraid to be tossed into.

Sister One, also known as Deidre, and Sister Two, Amira, were sitting in the green room, gossiping together, a few feet away from where Eli had settled at the mirror.. Eli had a decent working relationship with them, but they were senior theatre majors and Eli’s junior status and minor in dance meant they hadn’t interacted much before this show. Deidre and Amira knew everyone in the theatre department and had long been Kashima confidants.

“Can you believe Nico skipped the CosPlay party at Chapin last week?” Amira complained as she searched for her mascara.

“I know. She hasn’t had time for anything this quarter. First, it was this part, then work, then that redhead.” Deidre checked her hair in the mirror, redoing the tie holding it up and back.

“She’s in the audience tonight. I hear she’s a freshman. And loaded.”

Diedre sniggered, “Oh, is that why Nico is keeping her to herself.”

Amira quickly applied her mascara, “You know I’m really not going to mind if Nico gets mad at us and Kashima for this. She barely talks to me anymore anyway.”

“Kashima’s doing Nico a favor.” Deidre took a lipstick out of Amira’s bag.

“Exactly.” Eli found herself scooting her chair down as she brushed her hair, but when Amira caught her paying attention, the brunette nudged her companion, “Hey, Eli, what do you think about Nico? She’s BFF with your girlfriend.”

Eli was a bad liar but…Eli shrugged, “She could be nicer to Nozomi.”

“I know. Nico always wants it like “Nico Ni”” Deidre mocked Nico’s pose, “thinks it should be. Getting a part this big just made her ego even more inflated. She’s been nagging Kashima about her singing when what Kashima really needs support. Which is why Kashima comes to us.”

Amira nodded. “And we give her love.”

Eli watched her two fellow vamps smile mysteriously and wondered if just asking what was up would get her anywhere. Should Eli even care? Kashima wasn’t the problem. Surely Nico was up to handling intracast spats. She seemed to have Kashima pretty well heeled.

Eli decided to continue being a friendly vibration. “I’m just glad we don’t have solos. Kashima looks so pale before she sings.”

“She claims it’s on purpose, to add to the ‘King of the Un-dead’ effect,” Deidre sniggered, “But I know she’s just trying not to throw up.”

Someone’s phone pinged. There was a groan as a voice announced to the dressing rooms, “Bad snowstorm tonight. Hope we get out of here before it starts.”

“Yeah. Maybe we could get started soon….” another grumble, “I have a test tomorrow.”

Eli stood, “I’m going to find a stage manager and see what’s up.”

It was just so cute. But Nozomi had to not giggle because the first couple times she almost, Maki shot her glare full of neon threat. But there was Nico’s Big Bad Girlfriend, curled up in her seat, holding her backpack like a teddy bear, huge eyes watching the stage as Nico lived Mina’s fight against Dracula, whimpers and low growls escaping the tensed redhead. Nozomi swore she saw Maki bite into her bag when Mina was under hypnosis, describing what she saw through her bond with Dracula.

Fortunately, Maki knew when Nico set foot in the audience part of the theatre, otherwise she might have jumped when she felt the arms slide over her shoulders. But she did stiffen. Maki could tell Nico was surprised by that reaction, but Maki was about ready to run howling laps around the Lakefill to get the moody darkness of Fangs out of her head. She now knew what Nico meant when Nico complained about how screechy the music got, and how hard it was to keep that out of her nightmares...add musical cues to Kashima bending threateningly over a swooning, vulnerable Nico and Maki knew she would be the one having nightmares tonight.

“Hey, pretty girl, wasn’t Nico brilliant?” Nico kissed Maki’s cheek, throwing Maki right back to the chair, before the show, heart racing, suddenly as empty as the room...Maki shivered. “Whoa, are you cold, Maki?”

Before Nico could continue, Nozomi let out all the amusement she’d been keeping in for the past hour, with a booming laugh, “She’s TERRIFIED, Nico-chi. Almost bit her bag in half, didn’t ya, Maki?”

Nico glared at Nozomi, while Maki shoved her backpack a little away from her. Maki was at the end of the row of seats so Nico slid into her lap, fingers tangling in red silk before pulling her girlfriend in for an embrace as she whispered, “It’s no good if Nico’s not convincing on stage. But Kashima doesn’t even nip me, I swear.”

Nozomi continued to giggle, Maki was too embarrassed to look up and let her head drop to Nico’s shoulder, inhaling confident Nico masked in the fakery of makeup and the Kashima overlay. Olfactory thrall. No clear scent, no clear head…

Maki sat up, eyes catching Nico’s. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Isn’t it the other way around?” Nozomi leaned over to poke Nico.

Nico swatted at her and stood up, “Shut up, Nozomi. Come backstage with me, Maki, I have to change and grab my bag.”

Maki was restless. Nico wondered if it was having to sit still for two and a half hours while so much “happened” on stage. Or the aftermath of what happened before rehearsal. As sexy as it was to have Maki so frantic for Nico’s touch, there had been an odd mood, an unfamiliar expression on her lover’s face, one that Nico didn’t have a name for.

Nico slid her arm through Maki’s. The snow had started and the sky was layers of gray clouds, shedding wet, heavy flakes.

“So are you ready for opening night now?” Nico opted for a less pressing question, one that might encourage Maki to share any thoughts looping in her mind.

Maki shrugged, stopping to stare up at the sky and let a few snowflakes hit her in the face, “I suppose.” She grinned, “I won’t bite Kashima now that I know how it ends.”

Nico leaned in, “She’s really improved, thanks to you. You saved Nico.”

Another shrug, “You would have done fine. People know you’re…” Maki considered, translating wolf through partly human senses into human language was puzzling sometimes, but then she remembered one of Nico’s favorite claims, “a star.”

“So they respect Nico.” Nico bounced at the confirmation.

“Or fear you. Machiavelli got that right.”

“Who?” Nico asked.

“Dead Italian guy. Wrote books.”

“Another poet?”

Maki snorted, “Playwright. Actually philosopher. It was the Renaissance, people were a lot of things.”

“Triple threats. Like Nico.”

Italian philosophy seemed heavier than snow so Maki changed the subject to one sure to distract her lover, “But not as cute.”

“Aw, Maki loves Nico.” Nico nuzzled.

Maki’s noise of agreement was subdued enough that Nico suspected their pre show encounter was at the base of Maki’s odd mood.

“Did Nico leave Maki too…” Nico let the question trail off, not sure how to read the redhead’s mood.

Maki picked up her pace. Nico pulled her back, “Maki.”

Maki hung her head, expression shadowed by her hood, “We should get you home.”

“Us home.” Nico corrected. No response. “Maki, what’s going on?”

Maki collapsed into a crouch, and Nico reached out to touch her shoulder as the redhead muttered, “Don’t know.”

Nico crouched as well, “Tell me what you're thinking. Maybe I can help.”

Maki picked up some snow and started to form it into a ball, “Acting is weird.” She stood and threw the snowball at a streetlight.

“Is Nico weird?”

“No.” Maki shook her head as she shoved her now red hands in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, “You were actually pretty amazing. I was so worried for you even when I knew you were fine.”

“So why don’t you want to come home with me?” Nico stood, pulling Maki’s hood back far enough that she could see her eyes, which were full of swirling green and shadows. Nico knew there was something big that Maki wasn’t articulating, but Nico was almost certain that pushing the skittish redhead on the subject of their sex life’s debut performance in a semi public location would just lead to a howl and run. Careful phrasing. “We missed the cuddle part.”

Maki’s eyes glinted amethyst ice, “You didn’t miss it. You were on full thrill.”

“Did you?” Nico’s question was soft as they stood in a pool of light, disconnected and awkward.

“I don’t know. Maybe…” Maki turned, arms out, “I’ve just...it’s been…” Maki took a deep breath, “I’ve felt so many things, so many people, closing in all evening...that and the...I want… I need...to play...to hear...something that makes sense.”

Nico didn’t have a piano. Maki had had barely a moment to breathe since Nico took her hand and dragged her into the Wirtz Center. There hadn’t been any calms, just increasing tension, rising restlessness, the knowledge that something was going to break through, to rip out from under Maki’s skin, a howl or leap or a...storm. Maki swept a hand through some falling snow, wondering what this mood might manifest...she could hear the screechiness of the Fangs orchestra merge with the softer fall of a cello in snow and the quick hammering of her heart as Nico...Maki felt her fingers twitch, wanting to search out the notes that would transform this whole evening into meaning.

Nico watched Maki for a moment, as Maki stared off into the distance, unaware of anything other than whatever was going on in her head. She’d have to get used to that, Nico realized, but thoughtful Maki, thoughtful Maki was Depth and Beauty carved against the snow. Nico could certainly hold that image in her heart until playful, flirty Maki returned.

“Maki?” Nico’s touch on her arm was firm but when Maki looked down, Nico’s smile was warm, “You can head home. Nico can manage from here. It’s only a block.” Maki sniffed, uncertain. Nico was concerned, but calm, loving, detached. Some of the pressure lifted and Maki grabbed Nico, spinning the smaller woman off the ground, hugging her. Releasing Nico, with a howl, Maki sprinted off. Bemused, Nico shook her head, counting snowflakes for awhile as she watched Maki disappear into the gray. She was positive an affectionate Maki would remember to call or text at some point, but right now, Nico respected this mood she was on the outside of. Besides, she could use a good night’s sleep. It was already a hectic week.

A/N: Tuesday extended itself for more chapters than I expected, but Maki had some things to process before we could progress.Merry Wives is hectic as we approach going off book.Take care of yourself. And do something you love.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Casual Lunacy #Love Live #werewolf #theatre #coffeeshop #college #Go U Northwestern #fanfic #etc #acting

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the-desolated-quill · 7 years

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Hide - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

I’m going to be honest with you. I had completely forgotten this episode had even existed. I remember all the other episodes of Doctor Who, but Hide somehow slipped from my memory, and I don’t know why. I must have watched it when it was broadcast because at the time I used to watch Doctor Who religiously every Saturday until Moffat’s bullshit became too much for me, so I don’t know how I could have forgotten it.

Watching Hide again for the purposes of this was very much a journey of rediscovery for me. It was like watching for the first time all over again, and yeah, I liked it a lot. It’s got some problems, but I’d say it’s definitely a winner.

Hide takes place in a haunted house in the 1970s. Professor Alec Palmer and his assistant Emma Grayling are trying to make contact with a spirit inside the house, but when the Doctor and Clara show up, it turns out there may be a more scientific explanation for what’s going on.

Written by Neil Cross, who previously wrote The Rings Of Akhaten, Hide takes a lot of inspiration from the works of Nigel Kneale, most notably The Quatermass Experiment and The Stone Tapes (which is ironic considering how much Nigel Kneale reportedly hated Doctor Who at the time). When you watch the episode, it does have a very Kneale-esque feel to it. The plot itself feels like it could have been ripped straight out of one of the original Quatermass serials, but Cross manages to do just enough with it to make it his own and not have the episode just be a homage.

I think the two things that make Hide so effective is its simplicity and its scale. There’s no alien invasion or world ending disaster to worry about. It’s kept mostly to one location with only a couple of characters, which means there’s more time for Cross to really develop them as well as to play around with the idea and the setting. In some ways Hide is a traditional ghost story, and it’s done very effectively. The atmosphere is really creepy and the episode does a really good job of keeping you in suspense, making you question just what is going on. What’s even more refreshing is the episode’s use of subtlety. There’s no giant info dumps or overly sentimental bombast like we usually get in New Who. It’s all pitched perfectly for the most part.

What’s even more impressive is how Cross transitions from supernatural horror to science fiction really subtly over the course of the story. Turns out the ghost isn’t a ghost, but a survivor that crash landed into a pocket universe, and what we’ve been seeing all this time are snapshots of her running away from a monster as well as the effects of time dilation. One second in the pocket universe represents hundreds of years in our universe. That’s a really clever idea and a very novel way of exploring the time travel aspect of Doctor Who. And the reveal at the end that the ‘ghost’ is actually Alec and Emma’s great great great great great great granddaughter is just the cherry on top of the cake. It explains why the psychic connection between Emma and the ‘ghost’ was so strong and you can tell Neil Cross was really thinking how all of this fits together.

Let’s talk about Alec and Emma for a moment. With such a small scale episode and more emphasis on characters, it’s important that the performances are at their best, and Dougray Scott and Jessica Raine don’t put a foot wrong. Alec is a very sympathetic character. An intelligent and well meaning man who fought in the war and sent many people to their deaths, leaving him with years of guilt and turmoil that made him decide to take up ghost hunting in the hopes that he can get in touch with his deceased comrades and thank them for their service. Emma too is very likeable and sympathetic. A psychic (empath to be precise) who can sense the feelings of others, and thus makes it hard for her to form close bonds with people because of the pain she would feel from sensing such intense emotions from them. It also ties into why she’s a ghost hunter because she says at one point that the ghost is lonely, and clearly she can relate to that due to her own situation. They’re both good characters and I like their relationship, which, again, is handled very subtly and effectively. If this was a Russel T Davies script or even a Steven Moffat script, there would probably be a lot of swelling music and OTT monologues as the characters confess their love for each other, but Hide thankfully doesn’t go that route, instead plumping for a less is more approach, which is more effective. Yes there are a few declarations of love here and there, but it’s handled really well and Alec and Emma’s feelings for each other are conveyed more through their actions and body language rather than dialogue. It’s a combination of great writing and great acting.

While I did really enjoy Hide for the most part, I do have some issues with it. First I’m slightly annoyed by how the episode treats the male and female characters. Hide very quickly has the Doctor pair up with Alec and Clara with Emma, and you think fair enough. Makes sense I guess. But while the Doctor and Alec get to have all these interesting discussions about their past and angst, Clara and Emma are reduced to talking about the men in their life, which profoundly irritated me. Hello! Emma is an empath who has trouble with social interactions! Do you reckon she might have an interesting backstory to tell?! I feel it undermines the whole romance angle because it puts more emphasis on Alec and his feelings and worries, whilst any that Emma has is merely an afterthought.

Something else that undermines the episode are the monsters. Apart from the fact that the animatronic puppets they use for them are utter crap, I don’t understand why this episode needed to have monsters in it in the first place. Doctor Who is such a flexible format and there are loads of different kinds of stories you could tell, which is why it always puzzles me why we always seem to revert back to the monster of the week format, to the point where a monster gets shoehorned in for no reason other than the BBC feel they have to. The reason Hide works so well is because of the uncertainty of it all. The fear factor comes from us and the characters not knowing what’s going on. Why cheapen that with some shitty monster? (yes I know it looks like John Carpenter’s The Thing and it’s meant to reference just how much influence Nigel Kneale had on the sci-fi genre and how under appreciated he is today, but it’s still pointless). And then it just got worse when it turned out the monsters aren’t monsters at all, but long lost lovers trapped in different universes wanting to reunite. Dear God, give me strength! Any subtlety the episode had at that point just sailed clean out of the window. Why couldn’t they have just kept it as a ghost in a pocket universe? That was fine. I was enjoying that.

But the worst thing of all is the Doctor and Clara. People wonder why I don’t like the Eleventh Doctor very much, and for me it’s because of episodes like this. Hide does a really good job of setting up a creepy atmosphere, it’s all very tense and chilling, and then along comes Matt Smith with his goofy antics and hands waving around like windmills to spoil it all. I mean for fuck sake, where’s his off switch?! I recognise this is more of a personal taste issue, and if you think Matt Smith is funny then good for you, but I just can’t stand him. And it’s even more infuriating this time around because he’s effectively trampling all over the creepy atmosphere and destroying the tension. Plus there are some scenes that are just inexcusable. There’s a bit where the Doctor is about to use Emma’s psychic powers to open a wormhole to the pocket universe, and she asks whether or not it’s going to hurt. Now obviously the Doctor would be straightforward with her and say yes, it will hurt. How he conveys that depends on the incarnation. If it was Tom Baker or David Tennant, it would probably be in a sympathetic tone and maybe they’d attempt to reassure her. If it was William Hartnell or Peter Capaldi, they would probably be more blunt and to the point. What does Matt Smith’s Doctor say to her?

“No... Yes... Maybe. I don’t know. I’d be interested to find out.”

Yep, they actually try to play it for comedy. Okay, three things. One, fuck you, two, that feels really out of character, and three, how can you be so callous and insensitive?! What makes you think the prospect of a character we happen to like feeling incredible pain and agony is somehow amusing? At this stage I’m practically counting the seconds until he regenerates.

But as bad as the Doctor is, Clara is even worse. Jenna Coleman seems to have reverted back to Asylum of The Daleks mode, where she’s this smug, obnoxious, lecherous cow. She never takes the threat seriously and, like Matt Smith, keeps undermining the tension. One really horrid scene is when Emma closes the wormhole due to the excruciating pain and the Doctor becomes trapped on the other side of the wormhole. Now if it was any other companion like Sarah Jane or Martha or, hell, even Amy, they would probably try to reassure Emma and either convince her to try again or find some other way to save the Doctor. What does Clara do? Berate Emma for leaving the Doctor behind before proceeding to have a full blown argument with the TARDIS. I should also note that it isn’t Clara who ends up saving the Doctor in the end, but the TARDIS itself. Clara was too busy bitching and whining like a tiny child who hasn’t got her way to do much good. Remind me, why am I supposed to like her again? What is it about her that makes her companion material? Oh yeah! The bullshit Moffat mystery! Like I give a fuck about that!

And speaking of bullshit Moffat mysteries, apparently the TARDIS doesn’t like Clara very much. I can understand why, quite frankly. The problem is it feels more like delusional anthropomorphic personification rather than an actual thing that’s happening. In both The Rings Of Akhaten and Hide, Clara can’t open the TARDIS doors. Yes it could be because the TARDIS doesn’t like her, but a more likely explanation is that she doesn’t have a key. In Hide, the TARDIS initially refuses to help Clara. Yes it could be because it doesn’t like her, but a more likely explanation is because the TARDIS could die if it went into the pocket universe, like the Doctor said it would. It’s all just utter bollocks that never goes anywhere. What’s worse is that it’s completely reversed. The TARDIS magically changes its mind for no reason and let’s Clara in to save the Doctor, and then this whole plot point is never brought up again. Same goes for the conversation Clara has with the Doctor when they witness the entire life cycle of the Earth from birth to death and Clara is bothered by the fact that the Doctor doesn’t seem emotionally affected by it. You could have done something with it, but it’s just really clunky and it’s never addressed or brought up again afterward. So what’s the point of bringing it up?

Despite a few flaws and the most obnoxious Doctor/companion pairing in Who history, I still really enjoyed Hide. It has a great central premise, likeable and well developed characters for the most part and decent execution. Two episodes, two wins for Neil Cross. Any chance of a third?

#hide #neil cross #doctor who #eleventh doctor #matt smith #clara oswald #jenna coleman #steven moffat #bbc #review #spoilers

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feywildatheart · 7 years

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Nenîth,

By the time we’ve returned to town and I can send this to you, I’m sure I’ll have much more to say. But we’ve reached a lovely little isthmus where we can see water glimmering on either side of us, and we’ve stopped for a bit to eat and to wet our toes in the shore, and it seemed a good time to pull out my LICD and write to you about what we’ve seen so far.

We’ve been three days out here so far and I think I’m going to have to have a chat with Loraine when we get back to town, because I specifically asked her what sorts of threats we might face while we were out here collecting her sensors and was told there were no records of anything particularly dangerous or deadly on the planet, but I have to think she must never have set foot outside of her lab, because we hadn’t been traveling half a day before an enormous constrictor snake decided we looked like a tasty lunch.

Or maybe it’s just that she’s so tall, she doesn’t have to worry about the local wildlife deciding to make a meal of her. Still, it seemed intent upon dining upon all of us, and I daresay if it could have fit the three of us in its gullet, it could have swallowed one lone tiefling without thinking twice.

I worry about Pika, nenîth. She’s very brave, always rushing headlong into whatever threat we face. But she seems to take the brunt of the damage, since she’s always getting up in front of things and punching them in the face, and she won’t even wear armor to protect herself. The snake managed to grab her in its coils and squeeze all the air out of her, and I’m sure that would have been the end of her if I hadn’t been so angry and so afraid that I threw myself up on its back and hacked at it until it had let her go, and had bigger problems to worry about than lunch.

There were weasels, too, a nest of them, and none so sweet nor so small as the ones we befriended on the Hammer of Antas. They’re not half as cute when they’re twice your size and hissing in your face. I took two of the three down with a single arrow apiece, I’m glad to say, and we made short work of the third. It was near evening by the time we reached the location of the first sensor that Hallbjörn placed, and with a little hunting around I was able to find where he’d put it, hidden away a bit to keep it protected from anyone or anything that might have wandered by.

It’s a lovely thing, dark as the night sky with sparks like stars swirling through it, and they seemed to gravitate toward my touch when I lifted it up. I couldn’t say how it works, or what the purpose of those sparks are, but I could have played about with it all evening if I’d let myself.

Instead, we decided it was a fine enough place to make camp, and now that we were out of doors with a fire to sit around, and there was a decent breeze blowing through the trees, I made good on my promise to demonstrate my aedlira to Elyn. She seemed duly impressed, and took some recordings with those gloves of hers. And once I started playing, Pika pulled out a complicated set of pipes and joined in. It was a lovely evening. I haven’t had the opportunity to sit around a fire and make music with people in too long — there isn’t near so much opportunity for it out here as we had in the Feywild, and I miss it almost as much as I miss you two.

The next day, we set out toward the second sensor, and our path took us across a bit of a mountain range and through some grasslands on the other side. Drime had given me a bit of Hallbjörn’s possessions that he’d left behind for Squirt to get his scent from, and it was in these grasslands that Squirt seemed to pick up his trail, though there was something unusual about it that seemed to distress him.

Still, he’s game even when things are strange around him, and between him and a friendly little vole that Pika had a conversation with (I swear, she’s practically chatty with animals, and meanwhile Elyn and I can scarce get a nod out of her at the best of times. I’d think it was something particular to the two of us that she’d taken a dislike to, except I haven’t heard her speak to anyone more than is necessary, saving the beasts) we were able to follow the trail enough to get us to some tracks. The tracks were strange — we were told Hallbjörn was a dwarf, and a stocky one at that, but these tracks were too lightfooted for what I’d have expected of a dwarf. Neither Elyn nor Pika seemed to know of any sort of spell that could have made him so, not on a long-term basis, and the tracks we found went back a month or more, so after some deliberation, Squirt and I snuck on ahead of the others to see if we could follow the tracks to their source without scaring their maker away. Pika meant to accompany us, but we’d scarcely started out when she somehow managed to walk straight into the only tree in the whole of the grasslands. She puts on a brave face, but I think she must still have been recovering from the bout with that constrictor, so Elyn and I convinced her to stay behind and rest while Squirt and I continued on to try to find the person who had made the tracks, without scaring them away.

We were, perhaps, a little too good at that, for we’d nearly stumbled into her by the time she realized we were there, and startled her rather badly, and Squirt and I only barely avoided ending up with her glaive buried in our heads for it.

It was not the best of introductions, and I think I’ll be forgiven for being rather cross with her to start with. Seeing a polearm aimed at one’s dog’s head can have that effect. I liked her even less once I learned that she’s the reason Hallbjörn went missing a month back — it seems he startled her in much the same way we did, and she responded in the same fashion, only he was not so lucky as Squirt and I.

I had so been hoping that we would be able to find Hallbjörn alive all this time, perhaps only lost or injured and in need of assistance. I will admit that I snapped at her, in my disappointment, but honestly that’s thrice now that she’s killed, or nearly so, an ally by too quickly assuming them a threat. She might have been off this planet and on her way a month ago, if she’d been just a little more cautious before swinging that glaive about. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

She seemed contrite about what had happened to Hallbjörn and what had nearly happened to us, and sincere enough about it, I suppose. The others heard us conversing and came to join us, and we learned that she’s not from the prime material plane at all, but from the elemental plane of air, and had traveled through a series of wormholes that had spat her and her ship out too close to Nosirion-1 to avoid crashing into it. I’ll have to remember to ask Loraine, or perhaps Hiuda since Mir would have had a better vantage over the planet itself and the space around it, if anyone heard or saw anything, it seems like a wormhole opening up and a ship crashing down ought to have drawn some sort of notice, but no one’s mentioned anything strange to us, beyond Hallbjörn’s disappearance.

We made our introductions with the woman, who’s got a name that’s as much of a mouthful as mine but told us to call her Niko for the ease of it, and who it seems is a paladin of Reorx who’s been cast out of her order (for what seems to me to have been a well-intentioned mistake, honestly), and once those had been done with our attention turned to the hawk that we had seen wheeling about in the distance, and that had led us to this woman in the first place, for I’d been hopeful that it might have been Hallbjörn’s hawk companion, Nalira, and that she might lead us to him. I was leery of scaring her off at this point, though, especially with the news that Hallbjörn was dead, but between Pika’s ability to speak with small animals and Elyn’s assistance, they were able to coax her down and talk with her. She was Nalira after all, and had been there keeping watch over Hallbjörn’s grave all this time, which broke my heart right in two. Elyn wanted to send her as a courier of sorts back to the town, which seemed to me a somewhat callous intent for an animal clearly still mourning the loss of its companion. I was more concerned with convincing the poor thing to move on. I don’t know what sort of life a companion without its ranger might want, but it seemed to me that standing watch over a gravesite was a poor way to spend it. In any case, we weren’t able to convince Nalira to move on for either purpose, because she was unwilling to leave Hallbjörn behind in a plain, unmarked grave in the middle of the wilderness. So we asked Niko to show us to where she had buried him, and while she had done a decent job of ensuring that none of the local wildlife might dig him up for an easy supper, there was no gravestone to mark it. None of us were entirely sure what a proper burial for a dwarf might be, and we were limited in what we had at hand for one anyway, but it was an easy enough task to carve his name into a rock and lay it at the grave’s head, and once we’d done so Nalira seemed content enough to join us. I don’t know what will become of her, if she’ll want to return to the rangers of the Silver Tree, or stay with the scientists here on Nosirion-1, or if she’ll prefer to leave civilization behind her and go live out the rest of her life here in the unexplored places of this planet, but at least it won’t be a life spent tethered by grief to the place where her companion was slain.

We decided to set up camp there for the night, and leave in the morning with a full day still ahead of us, but our sleep was disturbed in the night by Elyn’s scream. When I saw what it was that had startled her, though, I’ll admit I gave a little shriek myself, for it was an enormous spider, at least twice the size of any of us. Between the four of us, though, we were able to kill it, and while I can’t say I slept particularly easy after that, at least I did sleep.

You’ll remember that I asked Pika if she could teach me to speak with animals the way she can, and I’ve been practicing what she taught me whenever I find the chance, though it had been somewhat fruitless so far. I wasn’t able to speak with Nalira, and had to direct all my questions through Pika, but I suppose it’s like what you told me once, Cylla, when I grew frustrated with my own lack at weapons practice. Do you remember what you said? It was years and years ago, but it’s stuck with me all this time. You said that practice is good and useful even when it seems I’m accomplishing nothing, that learning what doesn’t work is still an important lesson for the body, to help it figure out what does. And I think it must be the very same in this, too, and I seem to have come around a corner in it, for this morning, to my complete shock and delight, I found myself able to converse with Squirt! I’m sure you can imagine the heights of my joy. It’s strange, though, because when I first learned Pika could speak with animals, back on the Hammer of Antas, I asked her if she could speak with Squirt in my stead but she said no, that he was too large and she could only speak with the smaller animals. Perhaps the reason I’m able to do what she cannot is simply due to the amount of time I’ve spent with him?

In any case, whatever the reason, I couldn’t be more glad for it. I’m afraid I neglected my companions entirely for him while we sought ought the second sensor. Elyn found this one, and pocketed it, and as we continued on toward the third we encountered a pack of hyenas that gave us a nasty fight. Pika nearly went down this time, too, and Elyn took a nasty bite, but it turns out that Niko is a boon to have at our side, now that she’s swinging her glaive at enemies and not the heads of those unfortunate enough to startle her, and I, for one, was glad to have her fighting at our side. And Squirt, who usually blinks away from any threat (and honestly, who can blame him after that displacer beast!), this time ran right into the fray and bit one of the hyenas right back. It made my heart so glad to see him coming into his own and becoming the fierce hunting dog the fey bred him to be. I wish the Queen of Air and Darkness could have seen him, she’d have taken back everything she said about him being small and wounded and too weak for her service, and you can tell her I said that the next time you see her.

On second thought, maybe don’t. I think I’d bite her myself, if she tried to take him from me.

We’re packing up from our lunch now and getting ready to continue on our way to the last of the sensors, so I must end this here. I’ll send this as soon as we’re back in range of the signal, I promise. I hope you’re both well, and I’ll write again as soon as I have the chance to.

All my love,

Maliah

#in character: letters #location: nosirion-1 #the search for hallbjorn #person: pika #person: elyn #person: niko #in character

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arachnexdragoon · 7 years

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☁ five times my muse has thought about yours, and the one time they do something about it.

send me a symbol for…

“It’s not working, Lady A!”

Damn – what was it again? The last timeAranea and Dave found a necromancer, he had known right away the weakness. Itwasn’t lightning energy, that much she was sure – but which one worked? Gosh,she missed the head hunter in times like these. He was a friggin’ daemon encyclopedia.

“Try fire energy!” she yelled back, andWedge nodded before using it… Only for it to have next to zero effect. Sighing,the dragoon realize they were going to need to go old school on that bastard,because she had no ice energy and by exclusion it was the solely thing thatcould wo-

“Captain, look ou-“

A shove to the side and Aranea fell to theground, rolling over and avoiding the petrification beam. Wedge, however, wasn’tso fortunate – and he turned into stone, his face the picture of urgency andworry for his commanding officer. Aranea groaned, cursed her luck and got toher feet – she would fight this ugly bastard herself then.

II.

It was a desolating scenario – hungry andhopeless people, some of them so weak and frail that getting them to trust thathelp had finally arrived was nothing short of a miracle. She was comfortablyprotected by the snow in her warm clothes, face hiding behind a crimson scarfto ward off the biting wind – but still, work to be done. They needed to movethem into the carriers as quickly as they could because they were sitting ducksotherwise.

A small child was by herself, crying; sheseemed to have no relatives, and Aranea frightened her with the magitek lance.The ex-commodore had tried it all – smiles, soft words, dropping the weaponaltogether, even making silly faces at the small kid… But nothing. She steppedaway from Aranea every time, and apparently no one felt well enough to help.

She was at a loss at what to do. Dave,though… Dave would know how to get that girl in his arms in seconds. He’d knowthe right words, do his magic and have the child laughing and safe. Well, howone couldn’t feel safe with the head hunter protecting you from everything?

Sighing, the ex-commodore dropped the lanceand opted for dirty tactics – she jumped into the air, landed near thescreaming girl and threw her over the shoulder, marching back to the ship withthe girl and ignoring her squealing.

III.

“You guys suck so, so hard.”

Aranea and a couple of young recruits wereby the Taelpar Rest Area; the local tipster had called and she had volunteeredto go, dragging along three new and fresh boys. Two of them refugees fromTenebrae, one of them used to be a farmer near Old Lestallum. They were allshowing some promise, but they still needed to be put to the test.

So when the flan infestation happened, theytravelled south to take care of it. Battle had been swift and good, despite thefact that one of the guys got his foot stuck into the jelly-like creature andthe way he screamed had been less than dignified; but Aranea took care of itand they returned to the outpost safely, and were now playing a game of darts.

Only everyone sucked and she had nocompetition – well, either that or they were too afraid of putting up a decentchallenge for the famed ex-imperial commodore. Throwing her arms into the air,she shook her head when one of the guys protested, saying that there was areason none of them had elected to be archers.

“Well, I use a damn spear and I have someaim. Y’all just lazy,” she said with a grin, suddenly missing Dave. Well, therewas a guy who had never held back on the field or anywhere else, really… Exceptmaybe on the flirting game. That one was entirely on Aranea’s hands… And itlooked like she was winning.

IV.

“This place used to be so nice,” Araneacommented, earning twin ‘aye!’ exclamations from her men. Chuckling, theymerely stared into the eternal dark ahead – before, when starlight and the moonallowed for it, they could see all of the Alstor Slough and the lake, and itmade for a very beautiful landscape when camping at that haven.

The radio was on, just a couple of feetbehind them. The three Niff-born mercenaries turned army officers turnedunofficial hunters had been sharing some beer and talking when the radio wentsilent from the usual chatter, making Biggs frown and reach for the settings,working on them. And somehow, they found a station which wasn’t broadcastingdaemon updates – but music.

Actual music.

“Haven’t listened to that in ages…” Wedgecommented, turning his head around, “You remember this one, Lady A? Hunters andfolk used to sing it back in the day.”

“Yeah…” A song about resting when the workwas finally done… She didn’t know it had been ever recorded, let alone playedin the radio. Maybe this is why it was on right now – a hymn to unify andmotivate all people across Eos, regardless of wherever they were. But sheremembered the night Dave picked up his guitar and played that melody while shesung along to it.

“You think Dave is listening to this?”

A smile appeared on her lips before Araneaactually looked at Biggs to answer him. “I hope so, honey.”

It was getting harder and harder to keep intouch, in a sense. Dave was everywhere – his face was the one people knew andtrusted; he needed to go to places and running HQ fell to Kaleb and hisdaughter, sometimes other trusted folk. Aranea missed being out in the fieldwith him – for someone who had been a solo fighter in most of the instances,she had adapted wonderfully to his strong presence and his keen knife work.

But she couldn’t very well ask for hiscompanionship because she felt lonely – and she wasn’t even sure that was theword for what she felt. It was just… Weird. Returning to what she had beenbefore. Dave had been a partner where she had never one – she had either beenabove or below the others, giving or obeying others. Never an equal. And shefucking missed all that.

Aranea grabbed her phone – more than acompanion in the darkness, to fight off daemons, she missed him. His lowlaughter, his worried glances, the touch of his calloused hands on her skin…They had been brief and all too professional, but damn him. He respected thewoman too much to make any advances and limited himself to being the most chivalrouspartner ever, even when she made it crystal clear that he was welcomed to crossthe lines.

Well. There was a daughter, there was ahunter group, there was a fucking continent for him to organize. She understoodit all – so she dropped her phone before texting him and having him using hisphone battery for that. It wasn’t urgent anyway.

VI.

The look of surprise on Dave’s face couldprobably be attributed to the fact that he had found Aranea on his couch, bootskicked off and a book on her lap – meaning she had been there for some time –while he had just stepped outside of the bathroom in nothing but a towelwrapped around his waist. Aranea knew his surprise was justified – he probablythought himself to be alone.

But the front door was open, so…

“Well. Maybe I should have knocked?” sheinquired with a smile, but the way her gaze ran over his body was shameless andappreciative; these tattoos – she had only seen the suggestion of some of them.It was damn nice to have a full picture.

“Personal boundaries not a strong point yet?”he asked, but he had a small smile on his face and he appeared to have forgivenher trespassing. She just grinned back, watching as he toweled off his hair,and then made a motion of his hand to ask her for a minute – but as soon as heturned around to make for the room (probably to get dressed), Aranea moved fromthe couch and soundlessly approached him from behind, hugging him.

“Wait.”

“Aranea…?” his voice was different. A bitshaky and his body tensed under her grasp. Her mind was calculating the odds ofsuccess there, whether she had interpreted things correctly or not but… Oh fuckthat. Aranea had never been a strategist, she didn’t plan things ahead. Shejust had the guts to after what she wanted.

And that thing happened to be DaveAuburnbrie.

“I miss you,” she breathed into his back,feeling him shiver and his hands slowly making for hers, but if he wanted todisentangle himself from his arms or not remained to be seen, “I have beenthinking about you a lot. And I miss a lot of things.” His voice, his guitarplaying, his accent, the way he looked at her whenever she jumped into the sky,his gentleness with the refugees…

“I’m here, darlin’,” he replied, and whenhis hand settled over hers, they didn’t try to push her arms away. He gave hera gentle squeeze, and he turned around gently, using his thumb to bring herface up – and Aranea’s eyes were unclouded and clear, almost unnaturally so. Nowinks, no mischievous twinkle, no nothing.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I’m saying now,” she smiled, and her handsmoved from his hips to his neck; Dave appeared surprised at her actions, butnot displeased; if anything, he pulled her a bit closer and she felt something increasing– tension; and her own heartbeat. “You were always too busy and doingtoo many things. It wasn’t right to interrupt.”

“Aranea, one of the reasons I was too busyand doin’ too many things… Is because I was trying to get y’all off my mind,”he said with such unguarded simplicity that Aranea almost had to ask for aconfirmation – what? When? She had dropped so many hints and clues, how couldhe…?

“I’m not one of them younglins, honey. Youcould have anyone so I just thought you were…”

“Oh, shut up Dave,” she laughed and movedforwarded, finally stealing the kiss she had hungered for so much. And that meretouch triggered it all – suddenly they were walking backwards, with Araneafalling into the couch and the hunter on top of her, their hands no longerprudish.

“Gladly.”

#Dave #meldaciomartyr #five times #meme #one that's not ridiculously long!#or nsfw!#or angsty!#or with plot twists!#...guess I'm getting tired haha

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justanothercinemaniac · 7 years

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Epic Movie (Re)Watch #151 - The Phantom of the Opera (2004)

Spoilers below.

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: No.

Format: Blu-ray

1) The attempt to bring Andrew Lloyd Webber’s iconic stage adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera to the screen started all the way back in 1989. Back then, it was going to star Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman (who originated the roles of The Phantom and Christine, respectively). The project was ready to begin filming in 1990 with a November 1991 release date, but then Lloyd Webber divorced Brightman (they had been married) and production was stalled. In the interim, John Travolta, Heath Ledger, Matthew McConaughey, Meat Loaf, and Antonio Banderas were considered for the role of the titular character (with Bandera specifically training his voice for the role for years, only getting a chance to sing it during a Royal Albert Hall celebration of Andrew Lloyd Webber). At one point it was going to star Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway, but Jackman was busy with Van Helsing and Hathaway had The Princess Diaries 2 to film. Charlotte Church and Kate Winslet were also considered for the role of Christine before Emmy Rossum was cast. Through that time, Joel Schumacher had always been Lloyd Webber’s choice of director because of his work on The Lost Boys. In fact, the screenplay used was written by the pair all the way back in 1989. That means between writing of the screenplay and release, fifteen years went by. Now that I’m done with that fun fact...

2) I think this film improves on the Broadway shows prologue. The use of black and white is a nice touch, as is the decision to age up Patrick Wilson’s Raoul instead of having an elderly actor play the part. It is the first inkling of how the adaptation is able to use the differences between filmmaking and the stage to its advantage.

3) I first saw the stage production of this in August of 2009, then the film a few months afterward. It took me an embarrassingly long time (think years) to figure out that the broken chandelier was lot 666.

4) This adaptation REVELS in the freedoms you have in film versus what you have on stage, mainly through it’s use of three-dimensional space. On stage you have to present all the action in a single location and then orchestrate a scene change. But we get to see how the opera house is as much a character in the film as its titular Phantom of Christine. The film also utilizes the ability to shift POV between characters quite well, as again on stage your POV is stuck with whoever is in front of you. Here we can cut between characters in between scenes and get a fuller view of the picture. All this - as well as its well done use of special effects - gives the film a grander film. It is easy often times for a stage-to-film adaptation to feel stunted, but the team behind Phantom sure as hell knows how to avoid those problems. It’s one of the best parts of the adaptation.

5) Patrick Wilson as Raoul.

So at the risk of offending Phantom purists (something I maybe should have put as a disclaimer on this post), I have always found Raoul to be remarkably bland. No matter how good the performance is, I just have never found him an enticing character. He’s literally just there to be the healthy alternative to The Phantom’s love for Christine. I actually think Wilson does quite well as Raoul, making him the most interesting I’ve ever seen. He is able to make Raoul a bit more aggressive, a bit more strong headed, especially when going after The Phantom. But that’s about it. I think Wilson does admirable and he’s always been a favorite of mine, but I just find Raoul so damn boring.

6) Miranda Richardson as Madame Giry.

Otherwise known as, “The only French character based on a French story in a musical which takes place in French who has a French accent.” Richardson is a talented character actress, as I noted in my Sleepy Hollow recap. She is able to make Giry compelling, interesting, mysterious. You understand that she’s hiding things, but her suspicion never makes her dislikable. To the contrary, the way Richardson plays the part makes Giry all the more fascinating. In my opinion, Giry is as mysterious as The Phantom in this film because of Richardson’s performance.

7) Okay, Firmin (one of the theater owners) making eyes at Christine is weird. Depending on the translation of the novel you read, she’s fifteen. And yes the actress was eighteen at the time of playing her, but still. Creepy. Also when Madame Giry says she’s an orphan this seems to encourage Firmin’s advances and I gag a little.

8) A little wink to another work of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s

Former Theater Owner [on how to deal with Carlotta]: “Grovel. Grovel, grovel.”

(One of the songs from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat was “Grovel Grovel”.)

9) Minnie Driver as Carlotta.

I love Minnie Driver and she is absolutely perfect as Carlotta in this film. She is able to play the conceited diva MARVELOUSLY well (claiming to channel an old neighbor she had in Venice for the part). She totally loses herself in the part. This isn’t Skylar from Good Will Hunting, this isn’t Debi from Gross Pointe Blank, this is someone who is totally new. Driver is phenomenal in the part, although she didn’t do her own signing. She is a singer (contributing her vocals to the end credits song “Learn to Be Lonely”) but not an opera singer, so she had to be dubbed in. Nonetheless, she is an incredible addition to the film.

10) Emmy Rossum as Christine Daaé.

The protagonist of the film (more-so than The Phantom even), this was one of (if not THE) biggest roles the 18 year old had at the time. Rossum is great in the part, abel to capture Christine’s vulnerability without making her weak. Her honesty without making her naive. Christine is a character defined by her massive heart. She has incredible passion for music, a deep connection with her long dead father, incredible sympathy with The Phantom, and a wonderful friendship-turned-romance with Raoul. But she never come across as a damsel or as a fool. I think Rossum’s performance is a big part of that. You’re rooting for Christine and you love that she makes you do so.

11) Christine’s first number is her big performance of “Think of Me” for the opera house. During the neighbor the filmmakers gave her this angelic glow which I find...really distracting. Like it’s weird to me. I get they’re trying to emphasis her purity, but she looks a bit like a ghost.

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

12) I do like the chemistry Rossum and Wilson have as Christine and Raoul. It’s not hot sweats pure passion chemistry, but it is a trust and honesty they have with each other. They’re old friends and that comes through in their performances. You get that they’re the right fit for each other.

13) Gerard Butler as the titular Phantom of the Opera.

The casting of Butler has been a controversial one following the release of the film. He’s not a classically trained singer and at times it shows. When it does show it can be distracting, but that’s not to discredit his performance as a whole. For the most part his singing is top notch, I would say 95% of the time. It is just you can be a little thrown off when there’s that 5% that isn’t what you were expecting.

I personally do not find Butler to be bad in the part. Quite the contrary, I think he’s pretty great. In my recap of The Bounty Hunter I noted he didn’t have the right kind of charisma to play the romantic comedy angle. This is not true here. To start, Butler fills out The Phantom’s physicality very well. Just the look he has in the mask and the cloak is a powerful visual. More than that though, he is able to portray all facets of the Phantom with expertise and grace. His passion, madness, obsession, instability, sorrow, and later heartache all are done with the appearance of ease by the Scottish performer. There are times when he breaks your heart, there are times when you hate him, but you are never bored by him. He always holds your attention and I think that is key in playing such an iconic character. And again, Butler is just great in the role.

14) Nowhere is Andrew Lloyd Weber’s skills as a composer better showcased in this film than the double billing of “The Phantom of the Opera” and “Music of the Night.”

To start with, the titular song is able to be creepy, macabre, invasive, chilling, fascinating, and eerie all at the same time. It perfectly represents just the horror and mystery The Phantom carries with him. Then turn around right into “The Music of the Night”...

This is the song which particularly gives us an amazing glimpse of who The Phantom is as a character. Nowhere in the film is he quite as voluntarily vulnerable as he is right now. His hearts is on his SLEEVES as he sings to Christine of his world, of who he is as a character. Through the seamless transition from the chills of “Phantom of the Opera” into a piece of music which is moving, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, and just as fascinating, “Music of the Night” is quite possibly the best song in this whole film.

Having said that, it is a song which requires acting to match it. And Butler is at his best during this number. That previously mentioned vulnerability is on full display through Butler’s performance. You can understand his compassion for Christine, not only through his voice but also through his physicality. He plays the heart of the scene incredibly well. Rossum is great here too, showing off her fascination and wonder of The Phantom and his own through no words or song, just movement and expression. They both do a great job of elevating the number as it should be.

15) When listening to “Music of the Night” I believe that The Phantom’s obsession is not exclusively about finding a romantic love with Christine, but more about finding someone to be with him in the night. He is devastatingly lonely and wants a companion with him in the darkness. Who is a more devoted companion than a spouse?

16) The scene where Christine unmasks The Phantom only for him to fly off the handles makes something perfectly clear: the mask is as much for him as it is for everyone else. The Phantom deals with INCREDIBLE amounts of self loathing and metal health issues. He is afraid of being the monster people call him, he is afraid of letting them define him. The mask is an attempt to define himself. As I will explain later, it doesn’t work as well as he would hope.

17) Notes/Primadonna.

The double billing of the song begins as a nice peek into the relationship with theater owners Firmin and Andrew and their friendship (romance?). It also begins to illustrate just how deep the conflict between The Phantom and the egotism of the Opera/rules of the world in light run. You begin to see the hinges coming off of The Phantom as he tries ordering around everyone, setting up the drastic lengths he will go to later on.

The “Primadonna” half of the number serves as a fine montage. Showing just how the owners convince Carlotta to participate in the show and what lengths they are willing to go to to keep her. And it continue the film’s use of movement through a three dimensional space to convey sense of scope and plot, something which cannot be done to such an effect on stage. It’s a nice number but - again, at risk of offending Phantom purists - could it have been cut? It works fine on the stage but this film is two-hours-and-twenty-three minutes long. Would it not have been as effective to cut it for the screen and just had a standard scene of dialogue and score to convince Carlotta to stick around? I know it is blasphemy to consider cutting any number from one of the most iconic Broadway musicals of all time, but I can’t help but wonder if the film would have been better off without it.

18) It was during “Primadonna” when I realized something:

Carlotta’s goal is the same as Lina Lamont’s from Singin’ in the Rain.

They are both incredibly popular actresses with annoying voices looking to destroy the careers of an up and coming actress to ensure their own future success.

Now that you can’t unsee that...

19) The duality of Christine’s compassion/sympathy for The Phantom mixed with her fear of him later one creates a nice conflict for her. Something which is interesting to watch and should parallel the audience’s own feelings.

20) “All I Ask of You”

The number serves mostly as a nice moment of trust and honesty between Christine and Raoul. It is here where one would start shipping them, so to say. Yet while in most productions of the stage play you learn that The Phantom was there the entire time AFTER the song is done, you see his reaction to hearing Christine’s and Raoul’s love DURING the song. His constant presence is heartbreaking, an emotion Butler plays so well. It’s not just that Christine is choosing Raoul over him, she’s choosing the light. She’s choosing day instead of night, cementing the Phantom’s loneliness. Making it all the more heartbreaking for him. This was his once chance to not die alone and he just lost it. And it breaks your heart.

21) “Masquerade”

This is my favorite number in the film. Largely because it is one of the few light moments in the production, but more than that it ties into The Phantom’s own personal struggles in a way you don’t first understand upon listening. The “heroes” of the day (in a kind of elitist way) are practically gloating at The Phantom’s disappearance in a way which is mocking to his pain. They wear masks for fun, he wears a mask because he has to. Because he has been beaten and torn down because of his face. The lyrics take on a much sadder meaning with the reprise later in the film.

22) How fitting is it that The Phantom shows up to the masquerade dressed as The Mask of The Red Death?

“The Mask of The Red Death” is a short story written by Edgar Allan Poe where wealthy noblemen attempt to hide from a plaque known as the Red Death by hiding in an abbey. There, they host a masquerade ball when a figure disguised as a Red Death victim enters and makes his way through each of the rooms. His presence marks the deaths of every guest by the hands of the same disease they were so desperately trying to avoid. Basically a bunch of elitists try to hide from those beneath them and in their arrogance sign their own death warrants. I like that.

23) Briefly Raoul pursues The Phantom into a secret compartment under the opera house and finds a room full of mirrors, unable to determine which is the reflection and which is the man. This is not an element of the stage play, but an instead of the original novel. The Phantom would lock victims up in this room to drive them mad. I like the nod.

24) I first saw this stage production while it was traveling in 2009, then again when my alma mater put it on just a year after I graduated high school. I don’t remember Madame Giry going so in depth about The Phantom’s origins so much on stage, but I’m sure as hell glad the film has it.

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Once again, the movie does an excellent job of utilizing point of view to add elements. Seeing just how terribly The Phantom was treated is devastating. As a child he was beaten, mocked, and treated like an animal for years. Referred to only as “The Devil Child” by his captors he only free himself by killing a man and then being forced to hide in the Opera House ever since he was a boy. No wonder the man went mad. No wonder he hides his face. He’s terrified of being exactly what people said he was, and because of the way he was treated that cruelty he’s afraid of is linked directly to his deformity. By hiding his face, he hides the monster. Or so he thinks.

25) I love this line, because it shows just how much we don’t know about The Phantom.

Giry: “He’s an architect and designer. He’s composure and magician. He’s a genius, mousier.”

If I’m not mistake, in the original novel The Phantom DESIGNED the opera house (as well as a palace for a Persian king). He is portrayed as being the greatest artistic mind of the century and the most mad. All in service of more depth to his character.

26) Again this is probably blasphemy to Phantom purists, but I always tune out during “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again”. Rossum is great in the song, conveying the sorrow she feels over missing her father, but come on. Do we need a three to five minute number just to understand, “I really miss my dad, I wish he was here with me?”

I must admit the song is a beautiful piece of heartache and sorrow, while also giving us our best peek into Christine’s relationship with her late father, but it just slows down the pacing too much for me personally.

27) Similarly, the action of the following sword fight between The Phantom and Raoul is another thing that on its own I really like. The decision to add a bit more action to the film as well as giving Raoul more to do is something I appreciate. But it just slows down the pacing too much for me, personally.

28)

Christine [after they plan to use Christine as bait to lure out The Phantom]: “Raoul I’m frightened. Don’t make me do this.”

Can I just say I would like Raoul so much more as a character if he said, “Alright, I won’t make you do this. We can run for it. Just you and me.” I would love that, I would love if Christine came to the decision herself as, “No, even if I’m afraid I have to do this.” She sort of does that in the film as is but I would have liked both Raoul and that decision more if Raoul weren’t pressuring her to do it.

29) So the opera is performing The Phantom’s play Don Juan and the actor playing the titular Don steps off stage and The Phantom steps back on in costume as the don.

And I’m just thinking: really? No one immediately notices that the actor’s height, weight, and voice has changed? No one stands up and shouts, “Hey, that’s The Phantom!” and they just shoot him before he gets to close to Christine? They just roll with it? Do they people in the audience actually believe this is the tubby guy from before? Am I overthinking this?

30) Naming a song “The Point of Return” makes it pretty clear what is happening in the musical at this point, but beyond that the composition of the number does an excellent job of conveying its title. You feel the weight in the music more so than the lyrics, and that’s where the power is.

31) So The Phantom is ugly. He wears his mask to hide a hideous deformity that the world has totally shunned him for. It is this deformity which have caused him to be beaten repeatedly, tortured, and called the Devil’s Child as a kid. And then Christine goes to remove his mask and we FINALLY see the blood curling horror which is The Phantom’s face...

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF] please let me know.)

I do enjoy this film more than some others do, but come on. This is supposed to be one of the most hideously disfigured characters in all of fiction. He’s not even supposed to be human!

Anyway...

33) The decision to put the chandelier crash at the end of the film instead of the end of the first act I think is a smart change. When you’re doing a Broadway show you need a solid ending to act one, in film you usually want to hide the structure as well as you can. There’s no three acts (or at least there’s not supposed to be), there’s just one story. So it makes sense to have the chandelier at the end.

34) The film’s entire climax is incredibly key to The Phantom as a character, and Butler is absolutely stellar in the scene.

THIS is his madness as its greatest. His desperation and his pain has become total to him. There is nothing else. It is here that it becomes clear that the ugliness of his face has entered his soul. He has come the monster he was said to be as a child not because of any physical deformity but because of the mind crippling loneliness that deformity has brought him. He just doesn’t want to be alone anymore, and it is that decision that drives him to madness. And it is the first sign of companionship which brings him back to some form of reason.

Christine: “God give me courage to show you you are not alone.”

That is all The Phantom ever needed. Something real, something which showed him that he could be loved despite his face. He doesn’t lose Christine because of his scars. He loses her because of his actions. And the kiss shows him that. And he lets them go before listening to the music box singing the lyrics to Masquerade.

Phantom: “Masquerade...paper faces on display. Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you.”

35) Okay, ever since seeing the original stage production, this image of Meg finding the Phantom’s mask while dressed the way she is makes me want them to go on swashbuckling international adventures.

I really enjoy this adaptation. I think it conveys the stage musical in an effective and equally macabre way, that it uses the change in format to it’s advantage, and that it is acted remarkably well (even the controversial casting of Gerard Butler I think is pretty great). I just really enjoy this film and the heart it carries with it. If you’re a fan of musicals, horror, Andrew Lloyd Webber, any of the actors involved, or Andrew Lloyd Webber, I recommend giving it a view.

#The Phantom of the Opera #Gerard Butler #Emmy Rossum #Patrick Wilson #Andrew Lloyd Webber #Minnie Driver #Miranda Richardson #Joel Schumacher #Epic Movie (Re)Watch #Movie #Film #GIF #Singin' in the Rain #Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

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