#the long rule is that the more effort you put into something the funnier it becomes

[lazuliquetzal]

Comedy Is A Lie: I’m Going To Explain The Joke And It’s Going To Make Everything Worse

A buddy asked me why I cut a good joke from one of my fics and my immediate answer was “it killed the tension,” which, upon reflection, is a pathetic answer that is mostly inaccurate and does not even come CLOSE to how much thought I put into comedy in my writing. So I guess I’m going to write this out and excise the demon of over-explanation. 

Part The First: What Is Funny

The biggest thing I try and keep in mind when writing editing comedy (and anything, really, but especially for comedy) is rhythm. Lots of parts to rhythm! Most obvious is the word-to-word/sentence-to-sentence flow. Timing is a really important aspect of verbal comedy, which is why performance is a good medium to use. You get to control the delivery of every sentence and the spaces in between. But when you’re writing, you have significantly less control over how a reader will interpret the rhythm: all you can do is word your sentences as best as you can and give them rhythm cues via punctuation. (This is why I use so many em dashes and commas… I'm working on that…)

The other part to rhythm is on a more macro scale. There are jokes that will roll along with the flow of a story. For me, these are jokes that don't deviate from the context of the scene too much. They connect one subject to the next, or they build off of each other (a ‘yes, and’ sequence, for example). Alternatively, the joke is delivered in a really understated way. Like passing off something objectively batshit as status quo. Either way, they flow!

Then there are jokes that will halt a scene in its tracks. These are jokes that recontextualize a situation, or make a particularly large leap from the current topic. Or, you've been setting up for this punchline for a while and this joke is payoff. Or the joke is just really, really funny. These are the kind of jokes where you need to give the characters (or the reader) a beat to process them. Sometimes. We’ll get back to that.

Part the Second: How Is Funny

So the point of all that rhythm stuff is that comedy has a flow! If every line is a witty one-liner, none of the lines are witty one-liners! If every joke is a one-hit-KO, you have left your reader unconscious. Basically, if you are constantly being #Funny, you become repetitive and predictable, and that is the death of tension (and humor is a tension-driven element). 

One way to think of comedic pacing is setup (AKA building tension) and punchline (AKA payoff). It’s a balancing act: the more you build up tension, the more satisfying the payoff is going to be, but if you spend too long building up, you start dragging. You want the reader to think, “I can’t wait for the punchline!” and not, “oh my god, PLEASE get to the punchline already.” 

Fun way to make the tension last longer is to put all those flow-y connector jokes along the way. The reader’s anticipating the Joke, so by giving them little jokes, it meets their expectations in little ways so that they don’t get too antsy.

Hey, what’s tension, you ask?

Part The Third: Why Is Funny

When I read a book, there are two emotions that get me to turn the page:

I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and I’m curious!

I know X is going to happen, and I’m anticipating it!

That’s tension. (Something something semantics—I’ve never taken a creative writing class, I don’t have a vocabulary) 

You can have the calmest, low-stakes fluffiest fic in the world but as long as your readers are experiencing either curiosity or anticipation, Congrats! You have tension! I, however, like putting readers on fast-paced rollercoasters, so that’s the lens through which I’m tackling this section, which is: how do I use jokes in a story structure context? What purpose does a clown serve?

I mentioned earlier that some jokes are bricks to the face: they demand to be processed. Most of the time, I put high-impact jokes in places where I need the story to “reset” in a way: force a beat so the reader can process both the joke and the plot. That’s using humor to release tension. Literally. Laughter relieves stress.

But! You can also use those jokes to make the tension even worse! If you drop a bomb and immediately press forward, no processing allowed, you get stressful comedy. You want to laugh, but also a bunch of other stuff is happening and it feels kind of rude to laugh, so you get stressed. Sometimes humor can undermine a climactic moment, but if you use the right joke in the right spot you create shrimp emotions. If you’ve read DotF ch8 you know what I’m talking about.

Jokes also just make for good plot points? A lot of jokes are built on recontextualization. Everybody loves a good twist/reversal/surprise in a plot. Just make a joke and re-frame it, and bam! You’ve plotted! (Everything I’ve ever written started off as a joke.)

Wait, What Was The Question?

Why did I cut the joke? It was a waste of a brick to the face. It was too referential, it required the audience to know/agree with something completely unrelated to the story, it didn’t build upon what I already established. It ruined the rhythm.

I need to emphasize that, despite all my Thoughts on this, the way I appraise my jokes is 80% vibe-based. I probably could have kept the joke, and it would have been totally fine. But I would know. I would know that my intended rhythm is broken… it would haunt me until the end of time…

[notxjustxstories]

Your kinktober posts are nothing but filth they hardly have anything to do with the characters

Thank you?

I don’t know what’s funnier, the fact that you’re accusing me of posting plotless filth for kinktober of all fandom events, or that you’re just straight up wrong. Despite my best efforts, every post I’ve made so far has had something significant to say either about the oc in it or their relationship with their partner(s), but even if they didn’t, not every piece of fiction has to have some deeper message. Some people just wanna write people fucking and that’s totally cool.

I doubt you’re wondering since you either haven’t actually read any of my kinktober fics or completely lack any and all reading comprehension skills, but I’ve added the significance of every post I’ve made so far below the cut.

adding per @lizziesxltzmxn's suggestion

(various kink/trauma related triggers, as tagged in their original kinktober posts)

Day 1 - showcases the fact that no humanity!Hope is so attached to and obsessed with Di that she’s willing to compel Di to kill herself and turn her into a heretic if she thinks she’s going to be taken from her

Day 2 - shows how Luna’s empathic connection to Clark alters her own feelings for others

Day 3 - the trust Bucky has in Sahar that he wants her to use his trigger words on him, their respective trauma, the guilt Sahar carries for removing Bucky’s autonomy contrasting with the knowledge that she had to look out for herself, and the guilt the Winter Soldier (not Bucky- the Winter Soldier) deals with as he undergoes deconditioning and reintegration

Day 4 - how the relationship between Minako and Kaia’s past lives ended horribly and violently but they’re still attracted to each other even though they’re angry to the point of wanting to hurt each other, framing how much they have to recover to have a healthy relationship

Day 5 - Erin’s god-tier survival instincts and how her mind works

Day 6 - how the Hex affects Wanda and Danica’s relationship and the limitations/strain Wanda’s own power put on it because she wanted the perfect sitcom life, not recognizing the cost

Day 7 - more on Erin’s god-tier survival instincts but also the fact that she likes giving up control and may have ulterior motives to sleeping with Loki and Bucky than just doing what she thinks will keep her alive long enough to be rescued, with a side of hinting that Loki’s aggression and threats of brutality aren’t what they seem either

Day 8 - Elena’s knowledge and fear of her own power both in her adolescence and in the days leading up to the Chitauri invasion when she’s in closer proximity to the mind stone, with a bonus reflection on her view of sex growing up in a small town compared to having two partners who are invested in mutual consent and her enjoyment

Day 9 - highlighting a domestic, submissive moment with a character who is supposed to be in control at all times in her job, set over the backdrop of a work situation in which she is very much not in control

Day 10 - more exploration of how growing up in a small, conservative town damaged an oc’s views on love and sex with bonus human!infinity stone lore and the implication of absolute trust between an wlw couple

Day 11 - further exploration of Wanda’s powers & Danica’s desire for her wife even in a situation where they’re supposed to be “just friends” per the rules of the Hex

Day 12 - how homophobia affects the lives of two women in love in the 1940s-1950s + the utter beauty and tragedy of an immortal woman literally begging Death to “take her”

Day 13 - the pull between reincarnated lovers and how despite their anger towards each other they are still very much in love and willing to prove it

Day 14 (I haven’t even posted this one yet so spoilers? I guess?) - a highly emotional, vulnerable moment between two partners + Eve is described in her intro as getting married and giving birth at age 18, and since I don’t write explicit scenes with minors, it’s implied that she gets pregnant in this scene- rather befitting that the personification of the soul stone starts the process of creating new life the first time she’s physically able to

[multimilfs]

Lilith Clawthorne x Fem!Reader: First Time Beasts and How to Take Care of Them

Summary: Anon requested “PostS1- How about cursed!reader taking care of Lilith after experiencing her first transformation?” 

A/N: I made myself hungry... RIP

Warning(s): None

Rule no. 1 one of transformations? Expect more than you’re likely to get.

Rule no. 2? Well… expect a lot. Transformations are no easy gig.

Over the course of time with your own curse, it’d become easy enough that you forgot these rules. Big mistake. That landed you with a yard full of feathers and enough sprinting to make a seasoned runner drop. You would be feeling it tomorrow.

When Lilith had first taken on half of Eda’s curse, you thought that her beast form would take on some of her personality. Calm, curious, and snuggly. The only trait to ring slightly true had been the snuggly bit. Unfortunately, she couldn’t calm down long enough to actually snuggle at all.

Lilith’s beast form was erratic and terrified. Of everything. You sneezed and she took off into the woods, only leaving behind tufts of feathers and claw marks in the ground. It would have been funnier if someone else were chasing after her.

Eventually though, you caught her for long enough to get the real Lilith back.

Now you were carrying said witch up to your shared bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. She let out a pained noise that made your heart ache.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” You soothed, “I’ll get you something to eat and then you can sleep the rest of it off.”

“Screw food. Get in bed.” Lilith grumbled.

Her eyes glared at you from beneath the blankets stacked on top of her. You bit your lip, doing everything you could not to laugh. Her glare grew more intense every second you didn’t join her. And though you planned to, she really did need something to eat.

“Food first, then I’ll snuggle with you.”

Lilith let out a growl. The noise startled you, but it seemed to startle her too. Her eyes were wide and her ears were turning red. You left the room before she could see your grin.

You tried to recall what it’d been like for you after the first transformation. It had startled you, left you feeling raw physically and emotionally. You’d also been starving. Running around in a larger form burned a lot of calories.

The best route, you decided, was to have her eat something and then you’d hold her for the rest of the night. It was best for her to feel supported and safe. With as paranoid as her beast form was, she would be the same way for the rest of the night. Emotions and adrenaline were still surging.

Feeling pressed for time, you began mixing up something simple. Human pancakes. Luz had introduced the food to the residents of the Owl House and they’d quickly become a favorite of Lilith’s. She preferred hers with mashed fruit and a chocolate drizzle. Though the latter was a guilty pleasure.

“Hey, Luz?” You called out after arriving in the kitchen.

“Yeah?” Luz replied distantly.

“Can I get your help with these human pancakes of yours?”

There was the sound of feet before Luz stood in the doorway, a bright smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled in that way they did when she was happy to be included.

“These are going to be the best pancakes ever.” She gushed.

You couldn’t help but grin, holding out a bowl to her. Luz was a good kid. She had a natural joy for being around people and helping that brightened the house. Without her, you weren’t sure that you’d even be here in the Owl House. You counted yourself lucky to know a human like Luz.

“Are we making normal pancakes?” Luz asked, pulling her ingredients out of the cabinets.

“There are more than one type?”

“Of course there are! There are blueberry, banana, peanut butter, chocolate chip-”

“Woah, okay! You human’s really stick with something when you create it, huh?” You laughed, “Do you think Lilith would like chocolate chip?”

Luz nodded quickly. Lilith’s love for chocolate was the worst kept secret in the Owl House. None of you were brave enough to tell her that, though.

The two of you descended into a calm silence, only pierced by Luz giving you instructions on something. It was nice. If Lilith had been feeling better, she would have sat on the chair in the corner, watching the two of you work. It reminded you to be quick about getting back to her.

“Thanks for your help, Luz.”

“Anytime! Tell Lilith I hope they help.” She said sweetly.

You couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle her hair affectionately. What a good kid.

“I will.”

When you returned to the bedroom, Lilith had managed to sit herself up against the headboard, tapping her fingers impatiently. Her eyes lit up interestedly upon seeing the food in your hands, before tuning it down. She was supposed to be annoyed with you.

“Took you long enough.” Lilith sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Luz and I made you some special pancakes though.” You said with a smile.

Lilith glanced over at the plate, which turned into her staring at it. Every few moments she would glance away. Trying, and failing, to pretend that she was uninterested.

“No? Alright, I guess I can eat them, then.”

You began to cut the pancakes up, before Lilith rolled her eyes. She slowly held out a hand for the plate. You made no effort to hide your triumphant smile.

“I’m only doing this because I have no desire to hear you berate me later.” Lilith reasoned, glaring at you.

“Of course, honey.”

You sat down on the bed, lifting your arm so Lilith could snuggle up to you. She ate her chocolate chip pancakes while humming. And every now again, she’d generously offer you a piece.

When she’d eaten all of them, she let out a sigh. Lilith then wrapped both of her arms around your middle. You had to ignore the pain in your chest when she froze against the soreness in her body. It hurt you to see her in so much pain.

“Better?” You asked.

“Mhm.”

“Let me move the plate and then we can sleep.”

You tried to stand and move the plate, but Lilith had latched onto you. She had waited long enough. There was no way she was letting you get out of the bed, not until she’d gotten the snuggles she’d been waiting for.

“Lilith-”

Lilith grumbled, covering your mouth with her hand. She gave you a devious glare.

“Just lay down and shush, okay?” She said.

She’d put on her Coven Leader voice, which still worked, even after all this time. You laid down fully, holding her close while being careful not to hold her too tightly. She’d already moved more than she should have. You didn’t want to make it worse.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. And eventually, you felt her breathing even out. She wasn’t in too much pain to stop her from falling asleep. Good.

Carefully and slowly, you covered her in the soft blanket, placing a kiss on her forehead. It would be hard for the next few days, with soreness and mood swings. But the worst had passed. For now, all there was to do was sleep.

[cristalconnors]

TOP 20 SONGS OF 2020

20. “BELOW THE CLAVICLE”- EARTHEATER

“The meaning hasn’t come up yet. It’s still under the surface below the clavicle.”

It isn’t just Alexandra Drewchin’s ear splitting soprano when she hits that impossibly high B, practically shrieking out the “cle” syllable of clavicle, though that’s undoubtedly when I first knew that Eartheater’s avant folk was for me- it’s also the cinematic, lush strings, both bowed and plucked (is that acoustic guitar or harp? I genuinely can’t tell), deepening and complicating the sonic texture of Drewchin’s study of parsing through emotions you aren’t ready to make sense of yet. 

19. “PUSSY TALK”- CITY GIRLS, FT. DOJA CAT

“This pussy so ghetto, this pussy speak ebonics”

“WAP”’s funnier, classless Irish twin, though it’s important to note “Pussy Talk” came first. Yung Miami and JT enlist Doja Cat to expound on everything their pussies deserve and will absolutely settle for nothing less than. And why should they when they’re spitting out verses this inspiredly hilarious with such confidence and flow? 

18. “LICK IN HEAVEN”- JESSY LANZA

“Once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning...”

Jessy Lanza is talking about losing your cool, letting your emotions get the best of you and lashing out instead of letting cooler heads prevail, but when that earworm of a chorus hits- “once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning” - I can’t stop spinning. I’m that woman on the single art, a wine mom lost in the delirium of the dance floor and in Lanza’s hypnotic, fragmented rhythms.  

17. “GASLIGHTER”- THE CHICKS

“Boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat!”

“Gaslighter” finds Natalie Ames and her Chicks at their most simultaneously ruthless and ebullient, ripping Ames’s ex-husband Adrian Pasdar a new asshole and ratcheting up the righteous anger of “Goodbye Earl” tenfold, channeling it into a glorious wall of sound in what might be their most rousing, emotionally resonant chorus in their storied career. 

16. “HANNAH SUN”- LOMELDA

“Hannah do no harm...”

While “Hannah Sun” begins as an exquisitely observed rumination on grappling with long-distance, pining for someone who’s a continent away, it gradually becomes clear that Hannah Read blames herself for putting the distance between her and the subject of her longing, and that the distance isn’t strictly literal. Skittering synths (or is that distorted flute?) complicate and enrich the texture of the song, allowing it to build organically and stunningly towards a heartbreaking plea to herself- “Hannah, do no harm.”

15. “FIRE”- WAXAHATCHEE

“And when I turn back around will you drain me back out? Will you let me believe that I broke through?”

When I’d drive back and forth between Dallas and Austin over and over again when I was in college, I’d often get off I-35 past Waco and take the back roads through towns I’d never heard of, the sun setting spectacularly behind the titular hills of Hill Country that were beginning to roll out in earnest. I think about that a lot when listening to “Fire,” a song dripping in rural Americana that was, unsurprisingly, inspired by a road trip. We’ve probably all been Katie Crutchfield as she crossed the bridge into West Memphis- alone in the car, awed by the simple beauty of the American countryside, making speeches to ourselves about our past mistakes and figuring out a way forward. 

14. “3AM”- HAIM

“On the screen and in my jeans, just make me feel good.”

On an album full of genre departures and decidedly darker themes than we’ve typically heard from Haim in their near decade of syncopated bubblegum pop rock, “3AM” stands out not only as their most effective stab at pastiche, slipping into the trappings of contemporary R&B with shocking ease and gusto, but also as their most unabashedly fun track in their entire oeuvre. “I think you can hear the amount of joy and laughs we had making this song” Alana Haim tells Apple Music, and you absolutely can.

13. “QADIR”- NICK HAKIM

“We’re sinking down a hole without thinking about our loved ones who might be shrinking...”

I often wonder if I’m putting enough effort into maintaining my relationships with friends I don’t see regularly, who live several time zones away, living their own lives while I live mine. When the thought of sustaining simple correspondence becomes overwhelming, it’s easy for months to go by before you realize you haven’t spoken to one of your closest friends. “QADIR” plays less like a eulogy for a friend gone too soon (though of course it is that) than a plea to the listener to put in the work. It’s worth it. You never know when it’ll be too late.

12. “LEVITATING”- DUA LIPA

“Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes shining just the way we are.”

Just a few bars of that delightfully bouncy, extra-terrestrial beat is enough to launch me into space. It’s so refreshing to hear a song that remembers that pop is supposed to be joyful and is best when it’s a bit silly. When discussing this track with Apple Music, Dua Lipa cites Austin Powers as inspiration, elaborating that “if I do a video for this, Mike Meyers has to be in it.” Can’t you just see them together, performing a farcical pas de deux of seduction like the spiritual successor to “Beautiful Stranger?”

11. “RIQUIQUI”- ARCA

“Love in the face of fear! Fear in the face of God!”

Arca’s made a career of harnessing chaos and somehow making sense of it. On an album that finds her embracing more traditional, accessible song structures, “Riquiqui” is a reminder that even when working within an AB structure, she’s still breaking rules left and right and having a blast doing it. She’s also never sounded so ferociously empowered in either her femininity or in her Venezuelan identity, rattling off local colloquialisms with affection and verve without a second thought as to who’s going to understand it. 

10. “FANTASY”- AGAINST ALL LOGIC

“I think about you all the time...”

Or, the musical embodiment of this gif:

When Nicolas Jaar’s tormented synths and crunching beats give way to Beyoncé’s unmistakable alto, it is indeed quite the shock. But should it be? Even if 2017-2019 finds him ditching the dancefloor in favor of more severe, unforgiving soundscapes, his already varied career has shown us nothing’s off limits to him. So why not reinvent Beyoncé’s iconic “Baby Boy” into an industrial, vaguely sinister certified bop that arguably surpasses the original?

9. “PEOPLE, I’VE BEEN SAD”- CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

“If you disappear, then I’m disappearing, too.”

“People, I’ve been sad” plays out with the vulnerability and intimacy of a tumblr text post you put out in the middle of the night, only to hastily delete later when it gets no notes. It forgoes flowery language in favor of just getting to the point. “I’ve been sad.” Héloïse Adelaïde Letissier blows up this deceptively simple sentiment with richly layered textures and a big screen gloss not to offer any remedies but instead to offer solidarity. We’re all in this hell together.

8. “DESCRIBE”- PERFUME GENIUS

“Can you just find him for me?”

Mike Hadreas has never sounded so hopeless. Utilizing harsh, rattling guitar that would make Kevin Shields swoon, he conveys the experience of being so estranged from happiness and joy that you need to rely on others to describe the sensation to you. But how, when exploring darker textures than he ever has before, does he make despondency sound so divine? 

7. “4 AMERICAN DOLLARS”- U.S. GIRLS

“No matter how much you get to have, you will still die and that’s the only thing.”

Meg Remy picks up where she left off on “4 American Dollars,” reviving the subversive pastiche she mastered on In a Poem Unlimited, this time harnessing the power of funk to dismantle the fallacies we’re taught about the virtues of capitalism. Heavy stuff, but Remy makes it less didactic than joyous, ensuring the listener will be singing “I don’t believe in pennies and nickels and dimes and dollars and pesos and pounds and rupees and yen and rubles” until they start to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t, either. 

6. “STUPID LOVE”- LADY GAGA

“I freak out, I freak out, I freak out, I freak out!”

Due to a healthy spirit of contrarianism mixed with a touch of internalized homophobia and genuine bafflement at her universal appeal and praise, I was a proud Lady Gaga hater for as long as she’d been a cultural entity. I just didn’t get her at all and loved that about myself. Annoying, I know. 2020 was the year I was finally ready to let that all go. Just before the world fell apart in March, I was out at Flaming Saddles (RIP) with friends the night this song came out and by the sixteenth time it played, I understood why it was inducing such hysteria. This was a cultural shift. After a frustrating near-decade of Gaga subverting expectations so thoroughly that she was actively working against her strengths and sabotaging her cultural ubiquity in the process, coupled with the most frightening era of political upheaval in our lifetimes, she was finally ready to save us and be Lady Gaga again. Booming synth, drag sensibilities, absurd thematic conceits- all was right in the world. For the first time in a long time, people had something to be hopeful about, and as I danced that night, I felt that hope, too. 

5. “SHELLFISH MADEMOISELLE”- RÓISÍN MURPHY

“How dare you sentence me to a lifetime without dancing?”

As soon as that bass starts (the funkiest bassline in the history of music?) it’s like Róisín Murphy’s snake charming oboe, coaxing even the most stalwart curmudgeon onto the dancefloor and keeping them there, dancing frantically and involuntarily like the citizens of Strasbourg in 1518, trying their best to keep up with Murphy who isn’t even breaking a sweat, commanding the masses with a sultry remove, beckoning you closer, pulling you inexorably deeper into the mass of gyrating bodies and whispering in your ear “come and have a dance with yer mum.”

4. “PARTY 4 U”- CHARLI XCX

“I only threw this party for you...”

As PC Music / Bubblegum Bass / whatever you want to call it enters its second decade, Charli XCX proves not only that there’s still new textures to explore within it, but also that no one can exploit its artifice to get down to emotional truths like she can. How can she make something this slick sound so vulnerable? “I only threw this party for you” she croons over and over again over glorious syncopated synths that build exquisitely, reaching their climax only to immediately fall away, until it’s just her and her trusty autotune, pleading with the subject of the song to just come to the damn party. But they won’t, of course. They never do, do they?

3. “WAP”- CARDI B, FT. MEGAN THEE STALLION

“I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat!”

Sometimes you just immediately know you’re living through a significant cultural moment. No, not COVID. I’m talking about the experience of hearing Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s instant classic “WAP” for the first time, a titanic meeting of the minds that finds both of them at the apex of their cultural influence and at their most undeniable. Can the argument be made that these two aren’t the two best rappers in the game right now? How could you hear this inspiredly filthy sex positive juggernaut, where Cardi and Megan are trading the sickest verses of their careers, and not think these two deserve the world? 

2. “KEROSENE!”- YVES TUMOR

“I can be your baby in real life, sugar. I can live in your dreams.”

If the 2010′s were all about the pop-ification of all music, trading in live instrumentation in favor of polished synths, 2020 forcefully announced the return of the electric guitar when Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s back and forth lustfully submissive declarations of desire suddenly gave way to that nasty guitar rip lifted from Uriah Heep’s “Weep in Silence” to announce yet another cultural shift in a year chock full of them- rock and roll was, indeed, here to stay. 

1. “I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME”- FIONA APPLE

“I move with the trees in the breeze, I know that time is elastic.”

We live and we learn. Years spent soul searching and on self-discovery shape us into better, smarter people, progressively knowing and understanding ourselves and the world around us more and more clearly, but Fiona Apple knows that none of that can quell the ferocious desire to be loved by someone. By anyone. By you, whoever that is. We can know that time is elastic and that when we’re gone all our particles will disband and disperse and then we’ll be back in the pulse, and we can know that none of this stuff actually matters, but still- we want, we want, we want. 

[jessie-writes-things]

Din Djarin HC: Seeing A Cat For The First Time

This is another one of those kinda crack / funny hcs. Ngl, I just thought the idea of Din being terrified of a tiny-ass kitten way too funny and wanted to write it. 😂

The Mandalorian Pairing: Din/Mado x Neutral Reader Genre: Mostly fluff. One very vague mention of something smutty, but it’s still PG13. 

He stared at the thing for a very, very long time. 

There was something about the pure black cat that sat in front of his ship that just rubbed him the wrong way and he had no idea why. This was The Mandalorian. The ruthless bounty hunter. 

And yet he couldn’t get himself to walk past the ball of fluff. He had tried speaking to it, hoping it would move but all that did was earn him a pointed look before it curled back in on itself. 

He had even tried moving it, poking at it with the tip of his boots but the thing hissed at him and he quickly retreated. 

The whole scene was just the funniest thing. You had returned from a market with a sleepy child at your hip, watching from a distance as your Mando cowered back from the sleepy kitten, no bigger than a dinner plate. 

Din looked terrified when he turned to you asking, ‘What is it?’ 

‘A cat?’ He looked even more confused at your answer, ‘You’ve never heard of a cat?’ 

Yes, he had heard of them, of course. Turns out cats were more of a myth lexicon; stories of grumpy, balls of pure hatred that came from Earth and hid in ally-ways ready to attack at any moment for food. 

So he was in utter shock when you walked over and stroked the little thing’s head. Waiting, ready to jump to your rescue at any moment as it purred and curled into you. 

It didn’t take a lot of convincing to keep the thing. Although he hated the idea, and made it extremely clear, Din couldn’t say no to you, especially when your eyes lit up when telling him stories of all the cats you owned growing up. 

It took him a very long time to warm up to the kitten, and the kitten him. 

There was a strict ‘no kitten in the cockpit’ rule from day one. He already had his hands full with Grogu running around up there, he didn’t need another distraction. 

It didn’t listen. The kitten was just as curious and would always end up hissing at Din’s feet no matter how hard you both tried to keep it away. 

You knew that was a bullshit excuse. The real reason coming to light when you found him frozen still one morning, staring over the pilots seat at the fluff-ball fast asleep there. 

He refused to touch the thing for a solid three months which seemed perfectly fine with the cat. Whenever they would accidently brush paths, they would both hiss and yelp and jump back from each other, making a bigger effort to stray away for the rest of the day. 

The kitten had a bigger apatite than either of you thought and between it and Grogu, there was hardly any food on board on a good day. At some point, Din gave up fighting the thing when it came to dinner, throwing it scraps of whatever meal he was having onto the floor so it could lap it up. 

‘It keeps staring at me when I eat. It’s annoying.’  Was another one of those bullshit claims. You knew he couldn’t stand feeling the little fella’s hopeless eyes as she waited for scraps, just as much as he couldn’t stand Grogu’s when he was upset. 

He learnt to shut the door to his bunk quickly. It was one thing having you scratch at his back, but to have the fucking cat jump up there and claw at him was a giant no. 

Grogu loved the kitten and would follow it around everywhere. The first few days were hard, having to teach him not to pull at the poor things tail and ‘No, it’s not food. Stop looking at her like that!’

He quickly caught on though. The two became oddly close. A lot of the time when you couldn’t find either of them, they would be curled up in Grogu’s hammock together. 

After a while, when things had settled down with the new crew member, some of the hatred melted away. But Din being Din never wanted to admit that and to some extent neither did the kitten, both putting up this big charade whenever they were would each other. 

But there was one time when you had gone up to the cockpit to find them both knocked out in the pilots seat, the little kitten curled up on Din’s lap with one of his hands wrapped protectively around it’s tiny body. 

You never brought it up with him, but it did make all the little fights they had a lot funnier. 

[hanalwayssolo]

In The Line of Duty

A/N: Timely for Iggy’s name day! So. Slightly departing from the usual structure in which I write my stories, so this may seem a bit... weird? Fragmented? So I kind of not recommend reading this via Tumblr mobile bc that app murders the formatting lmao

Tagging them pals! @blindedstarlight @valkyrieofardyn @bleucommelhiver @gowithme @noboomoon @emmydots @lazarustrashpit @raspberryandechinacea @hanatsuki89 @mp938368 @boo-dangy @animakupo

(Links in AO3) Alternate Universes in Which You and I Belong Together: Noctis | Gladio | Prompto | Ignis | Nyx | Cor | Ravus | Ardyn

Ignis breezes through the freeway, his Aston Martin almost flying through the rainy night. He is never one to drive like a madman, but this is a desperate time that certainly calls for this very desperate measure. He spares a glance at the rearview mirror. A shabby white Mitsubishi and a gaudy yellow Volvo still remain in close pursuit. Looks like the flock of paparazzi back from Maagho’s really is a persistent lot. In the passenger seat, you sit in an unsettling silence.

Fuck these bastards, he mutters under his breath.

Speed limits be damned. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. Ignis revs the engine and zips past the steady traffic.

“Let’s get you back to your flat, alright?” he offers kindly.

You say nothing.

Suddenly, Ignis finds himself missing your chatty, teasing antics. That silly smile of yours. By this time, you should have been pleading him to let you go someplace else—anywhere but your place—while annoying him to death with your usual smartass quips. You never do.

Months before, Ignis had been perfectly convinced you were the most insufferable human he has ever come across. Funny how he now thinks otherwise. Even funnier that he now cares. Because it’s not his business to care. His job was never to look nor to listen.

But at this point, you have made him break every single rule in his book.

The first thing Ignis notices when he meets you is your eyes.

Something about your strong and striking gaze makes him wonder why someone like him is even employed at your service. One look from you, he is pretty certain you are completely capable on your own in terms of sending anyone who dares cross your path—may it be troublesome paparazzi, or overzealous fans and haters alike—to run with their tails between their legs. Your composure and confidence says just as much. Seems to him that you’re the type of person who does not need anyone’s protection, let alone a bodyguard.

Which is a sentiment you made very clear that morning in the luxurious luster of Hotel St. Regis’s lobby.

“I’m afraid Aranea here has wasted your time—” you tell Ignis as you set your cup of coffee back on the table, sharply turning your attention to the silver-haired woman who is sitting across from you— “but like I said, I can take care of myself just fine—”

“Really?” Aranea scoffs, casting you a challenging glare. “And by taking care of yourself, do you mean going around punching paparazzi square in the face and breaking their camera as you please?”

You shrug. “Well, that fella fucking deserved it—”

“Whether they deserved it or not isn’t the fucking point, you idiot. Do you have any idea how Cor had to shell out his own money to keep that incident from going out to the press?” Aranea sighs in resignation. “Look, this is more than just taking care of yourself. This is about—”

“—my career, my image, and my reputation, blah blah blah. Yes, you don’t need to do all of Cor’s spiel—I get it.”

Aranea raises an eyebrow. “Do you really? ‘Cause if you really did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and Ignis wouldn’t be the fourth replacement in the span of six fucking months.”

You fall silent. Though Ignis is compelled to say something, he knows very well not to provide his thoughts, unsolicited or otherwise. That’s never in his job description. He had been trained to keep his mouth shut, and he is going to do just that. Besides, what would he know? Such is the world of glitz and glamour that is show business, and Ignis has never been tasked with handling celebrity clientele before. If anything, among his peers, it was either Gladio or Nyx who gets paired with the high profile A-listers. Clarus’s directive for him came as a strange surprise, the initial briefing of his task even stranger. All throughout his fifteen years of service in the Lucian Security Bureau, people frequently assigned to Ignis were government big shots, business moguls, and upper echelons of society who have been targets of terror and violence.

However, in your case… Ignis could see that you fit in neither the former nor the latter. At least for now, that’s what he thinks.

You spread your elbows over the table, eyeing Aranea with a wicked smile all over your face. “You know what would be better, Ari?”

“Don’t call me that—”

“You could pass as both my handler and bodyguard, don’t you think?

Aranea looks at Ignis, then back at you. “Does that come with a raise?”

You lean back against your seat. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.” Aranea exhales a derisive laugh. “Then I suppose we leave Ignis to do that job for all our sakes. Anyway, we better get going—” from her satchel, she pulls out a sleek-looking tablet— “you have to be ready for your four p.m. table read and a seven p.m. interview Dino of Meteor Publishing.” To Ignis, she says, “I assume you’ve already been briefed by your superior about all your responsibilities?”

Ignis sits up straighter and nods. “Yes.”

“Good. It’s pretty simple actually, but the past bodyguards can’t seem to do it.” Aranea smiles, clapping Ignis by the shoulder as she narrows her eyes on you. “Just don’t let this moron out of your sight, and we’ll all be fine.”

The first thing you notice about Ignis is his eyes.

Never mind the scar that cruised the left side of his face, that tiny slash over his right eyebrow, or even the one on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t even need to look at you directly for you to marvel at how fiercely green his eyes are, like the colour of a bright summer’s day. However, back in the lobby with Aranea, there is no warmth in his silences nor in his clinical concentration; there is only a crippling coldness. One look at him and you could already surmise that he’s had his fair share of danger in his profession. Though he is lean and lithe unlike your past bodyguards who all seem to be built out of heavier materials, you cannot shake the feeling that Ignis might have killed a man with his bare hands.

Still, you don’t really need someone like Ignis. You never needed someone like him. A bodyguard should have been the least of your concerns. Besides, you have enough people monitoring your every move that getting a fucking bodyguard is as insane as it’s going to get. Cor often reminds you that this is all for your safety, and that as your manager, he only wants to keep you safe. Aranea chastises you that you’re overreacting, and that you’re still free as a bird. Except you’re as free as any bird locked in a cage that they might as well just lock you up in prison.

And in the first few hours that Ignis has started following you around, the fact that he hardly spares you a moment for a decent conversation—except for his courteously clipped responses like “Let me know if you need anything else,” or “I’ll be right outside your door”—prison seems like a more amiable place to be.

By his second week, Ignis finally understands how unpredictable you can be.

Okay, maybe he does not understand it quite fully. He has to admit, though: he admires the elaborate effort you put into your juvenile pranks. It comes in the strangest of ways and in the oddest of days: from your attempts to lock him up inside your trailer, down to that crafty disguise to sneak out of the film set, all of which he had seen you fail miserably time and again. Out of all your many crimes, petty they may be, hopping in the backseat of someone else’s car to escape him from an after party still takes the cake. He had to forcefully “borrow” a stranger’s motorcycle just to chase you down, which he managed to do in less than an hour. Not an impressive feat for someone his calibre, but at least he got you home in one piece—and without Cor or Aranea even knowing.

What fuels your sheer determination to drive him off his wits, Ignis does not know. The only thing he knows for sure is that you’re one bloody piece of work.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn ya, Specs,” Gladio reminds Ignis one sordid afternoon back in the Lucian Security Bureau HQ. In the saintly cleanliness that is his cubicle, he finds Gladio lounging on his seat together with Nyx, as if they had been expecting his unlikely visit. The air-conditioned hustle remains the same, the glass panels and all the white walls still as stark bright as Ignis remembers it to be. He really has been away for far too long that he finds himself missing that familiar scent of ink and paper, and even the faces of these two troublemakers.

“So how’s your new post treatin’ you?” Nyx breezily asks. His tone is not of concern, but a knowing amusement that Ignis can easily recognize. “The look on your face says you’re either in need of a stiff drink or to get laid.”

“Or could be both,” Gladio adds.

Actively ignoring the smug looks on his friends’ faces, Ignis does not answer them, but instead, he asks: “Aren’t the both of you supposed to be somewhere else?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” Gladio snaps back. He picks up Ignis’s tin of mints on his table and pops one on his mouth.

Nyx loops an arm around Ignis. “Y’know, celebrities can be a pain, so if you’re here to request Clarus for a reassignment, we promise not to judge.”

Ignis looks at Nyx for a brief moment. A reassignment. How come he never thought of that? Sure, you can be annoying and a menace to his daily routine, but Ignis suddenly finds it strange that he has never considered the prospect of requesting for a change in client. Maybe he has his brand of patience to thank for, or his unworldly forbearance in the years that he has spent in this profession.

But then—as if by seeing Nyx and Gladio after such a long time of being away—he realizes that maybe, you’re not that bad. Even in your reckless and determined attempts of making his life a living hell, you also make an effort to make conversation. Not that it’s anything special. He has been wired to being strictly on someone’s beck and call that most of his past clients do not even bother to look at him in the eye. Most of them see him as a weapon, a blade to be wielded against their enemies. Small wonder Ignis himself often forgets that he is a living and breathing person. He can barely remember having a life outside this job. He can barely remember the last time someone apart from Gladio and Nyx asking him anything about his hobbies or other interests or even about his family.

But you do. You try. Even on the first few days when Ignis didn’t know how to respond. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to. He fears that you might have interpreted that as indifference, and he regrets to have responded to you as such. He thought you would have given up by now, seeing how he had acted so callously, but you have the persistence of a honey badger that you use on him to get him to talk, or to even to smile a little.

Nyx looks at Ignis, this time with a genuine hint of concern. Ignis has not realized that he had been quiet for some time.

But he has realized that you have grown so much on him, which is such an disturbing thought to entertain.

“I think a reassignment is highly unnecessary,” Ignis says finally—almost to himself and not to Nyx and Gladio—as he takes his leave. 

By his second week, you finally understand how Ignis can be so predictable.

There’s the matter of his morning routine. He follows it too religiously that you start to notice the little things. He wakes up as early as six a.m.—on the dot, not even a minute late—to work out at the back of your trailer. Three sets of push ups, squats, crunches, all in that order. Seven-thirty a.m., he wraps up, takes a shower, grabs a nice cup of coffee with some of the film crew. He likes his coffee strong and black, no sugar. How you know all of this like the same way you know all of your lines is beyond you.

But maybe he’s not too predictable. Not entirely.

You still have not seen him smile, despite the significant progress in the conversation department. And by significant, you mean that his answers have finally upgraded from one-word responses to lengthy sentences. Considering all the stupid shit you pulled on him, it’s almost a wonder that he even indulges you from time to time by answering any of your random questions.

Though in the process, you have learned a handful of tidbits about his life. For one, you find out that he happens to be an excellent cook. Once, he has shared with you how he wanted to build a restaurant of his own, and that it is only a matter of time before he could pursue that dream. Hearing him confide something that personal throws you off guard, but somehow, you feel quite relieved. You also learn that he has never seen any of your films, nor is he even aware of your awards and accolades—which, frankly, is the most gratifying thing you have ever heard in your life. You have also learned that he has not forgiven you for making him chase you all throughout the city. Which is fair. If that had happened with any of your previous bodyguards, they would not even bother sparing you another word even if you are the last person on this planet, and they would most certainly quit their job the next day.

But Ignis is different. A good kind of different.

Nevertheless, what you now find unfair is that you have never seen him smile. Unfair because he has seen yours a countless times at this point—fake ones on set included. He even gets a bonus because he has also seen you laugh at the most ridiculous things. Ignis, however, seems to be programmed with a limited range of emotions. You have not seen his face look anything but blank or bored, too surly or too serious.

It is only when you suddenly fall sick in the middle of filming that you find a new expression on his face.

Right after the director screams “Cut!” you wobble outside the set, past the cameramen, past the make up artists, past Aranea who’s probably busy handling your next schedule. When Ignis hurries by your side, you could barely focus your eyes. Your mouth tastes like acid. The world is spinning out of control.

Ignis presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up. I’m calling a doctor—”

“No, don’t.” You weakly wave a hand. “I’ll be fine by morning. Don’t tell Aranea. I just need to sleep, that’s all.”

Ignis walks you back to your trailer, looping your arm around his neck, and his around your waist. Your cheek momentarily rests against his chest, and you can feel his warm breath fanning over your head. You try your best not to retch on his shirt. Perhaps it’s the fever talking, but all you could think about is how this shirt looks perfect on him and you do not want to ruin it with your vomit.

Which is why out of your delirious haze, you say out of the blue: “Have I ever told you that you look so good in black?”

Ignis tilts his head. He hesitates for a moment, and then says, “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, now you know. I like your black dress shirt. You look so dapper in it.” And there goes your filter straight out the window.

“Thank you. It’s… nothing special.” He sounds unsure. Or is that embarrassment? Either way, you’re too sick to even look at his face to see his reaction.

Ignis guides you straight to your bed. You toss yourself so gracelessly against the mattress, and you gather the sheets to bundle up for warmth. A wave of nausea threatens to lurch out of your mouth. As far as you’re concerned, the inside of your trailer should not be this freezing cold.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” Ignis says, and as he prepares to drift to the kitchen, you grab for his hand.

“Please stay for a minute. Tell me a story.” You sound like a five-year-old.

He sits on the edge of the bed. “What kind of story?” His voice is gentler than usual. It is jarring, to say the least.

You pull yourself up, your arm brushing against his. “Like, is it possible that you’re a gremlin? ‘Cause how come it’s so hard to—” you thumb the corners of his mouth to make him smile— “see you do this?”

You can feel his face tremble a little in your touch. He looks at you strangely. You know he’s about to say something, but you are ill-prepared to what happens next.

Ignis starts to laugh.

You can’t believe this is what you have been missing for the last couple of days. What you have been missing your entire life. You have only known him for two weeks, but now, it’s like looking at a completely different person. He’s all lit up, his laughter radiating like the sun, bright and warm and blinding. His eyes disappear behind his smile lines, and his mouth curves to exhibit his perfect teeth and that illegally gorgeous smile. Your heart is pounding and you are certain that this is not your fever doing the talking anymore.

“I can assure you, I’m not a gremlin,” he says, wiping his eye with his hand.

“Good to know,” you say, sinking back to your pillows. “But I swear—I will make you laugh like that again when I get better,” you say confidently. And as you drift to deep sleep, the sound of his laughter is the last thing you hear.

The third month arrives and Ignis sees you a little differently.

Different in a way that your smile is now a bullet to his heart. Your laughter, a drug. Your kiss, a secret he would forever keep. Not only have you grown on him, but you have made a home inside his body. His mind, your temple. You have seduced his empty heart, and now it is beating only for you.

But if there’s anything Ignis knows by now, it’s that good things always come to an end. They always do. And he knows better. He knows you aren’t for him, and he isn’t for you.

The third month sweeps you off your feet as Aranea enters your trailer with a new man in tow. At first, you think he is one of the new actors with the way he carries himself with an air of confidence, but you immediately recognize the logo on his jacket.

The first thing that leaves your mouth is: “Where’s Ignis?”

Aranea’s mouth twists. She hesitates, then says, “Ignis quit. Told me he found a new job. Nyx here would be his replacement.”

Your heart plummets. The expression on your face might have been so fucking obvious because Aranea casts you a worried glance, and so does this Nyx. He looks slightly uncomfortable with the way you skate your narrowed eyes at him, as if he has no right to be in your breathing space. As if he has no right at all to ever replace Ignis.

“I can see that you’re upset with this change,” Nyx begins to say, quickly regaining his charming composure, “but by 'quit,' it means he has left to pursue a different career path. Doesn’t mean he left you—I mean, for another client, that is.”

A simmering silence. Aranea and Nyx are watching you with growing alarm. You don’t know why, but something in you breaks.

You force yourself to smile, but it’s not very convincing. Some actor you are. And in the most modulated voice you could muster, you say, “Good for him then.” To Nyx, you say, “Do send him my regards when you see him around.”

As soon as Ignis pulls over your apartment building, you climb out of his car, weaving past another throng of paparazzi. Someone yells “Congrats on another blockbuster! Is this your new boyfriend?” and a couple of other things that only grates your ears. Ignis is quick to follow, and he shields you with his body as he leads you inside the lobby. Probably his force of habit, but it only unearths a memory of a good time that has already hollowed you out.

When the two of you reach the front door of your apartment, he finally breaks the silence. “I’m assuming you have Nyx trapped in some dark alley?”

“No, not really,” you say flatly. “He actually let me go on my own. Cooler than my previous bodyguard, if you ask me.”

“How convenient.”

“So, sous chef to the illustrious Weskham Armaugh, huh.”

“Indeed.”

“Now, care to explain to me why you really left without even saying a word? Especially to me?” There is a tremor that breaks your voice, and his smile slowly creases to a frown. “Is that it? Was that your grand plan? Make me fall in love with you and then just go up and leave—”

“I beg your pardon?” Ignis looks mystified, as if you have said something completely ludicrous. He stares at you for a long, scalding moment. “What did you just say?”

You scoff. “Are you kidding me right now? I said…”

The realization dawns on you in a slow unravel. Before you can even formulate an explanation, Ignis steals your breath away with a kiss. You have done this before in the confines of your trailer, but this time is different. This time, the feeling is no longer secret.

“You have absolutely no idea how I’ve wanted to do that this time around,” he says with a smile. And when he tells you I love you, he does not mean I love you regardless of or I love you despite, but rather I love you just because I do.

[moviesandmania]

IT: Chapter Two will be released by Warner Bros. in the USA on Digital on November 19th 2019 and on 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray + Digital combo (the one to get!), Blu-ray + DVD + Digital combo and Special Edition DVD on December 10th. Content options vary in other regions but they should be released around the same time.

Special features:

Audio commentary with director Andy Muschietti

Pennywise Lives Again!

This Meeting of the Losers Club Has Officially Begun

Finding the Deadlights

The Summers of IT: Chapter One, You’ll Float Too

The Summers of IT: Chapter Two, IT Ends

Here’s our previous coverage of the movie with stacks of reviews:

IT: Chapter Two is a 2019 American supernatural horror feature film directed by Andy Muschietti (Mama) from a screenplay Gary Dauberman (The Nun; Annabelle; Within; Wolves at the Door; et al), based on the novel by Stephen King. Seth Grahame-Smith and Barbara Muschietti produced.

Bill Skarsgård returns as Pennywise the clown, with Jessica Chastain (Crimson Peak; Mama) as adult Beverly, Bill Hader (The Skeleton Twins) as Richie, James McAvoy as Bill, James Ransone (Sinister; Sinister 2) as Eddie, Isaiah Mustafa (Shadowrunner: The Mortal Instruments) as Mike Hanlon, Andy Bean (Allegiant) as Stanley, Jay Ryan (Mary Kills People) as the adult Ben Hanscom.

Plot:

Twenty-seven years later, the members of the Loser’s Club have grown up and moved away, until a devastating phone call brings them back…

Reviews:

“The group dynamics of the (very good) cast propel the film as each Losers Club member faces down his or her personal demons. (Chastain especially gives the material a lift.) Taking each storyline at a time, all accompanied by flashbacks, gives each character some depth, even as the crowded film — at nearly three-hours long — verges on turning into a clown car.” Jake Coyle, Associated Press

“The whole film is going damn near overboard, for better and worse. It’s easy to admire Muschietti’s film for its excess and imagination. It’s easy to watch and enjoy it as a fright flick. It’s just harder to connect with the adult versions of these characters than it should be, and it’s harder to take this story seriously than it was before.” William Bibbiani, Bloody Disgusting

” …each scene begins relatively innocently before exploding into a waking nightmare that preys on the worst fears and repressed memories of each of the Losers. All good stuff, but more often than not, director Muschietti and the first-rate special effects team deliver gross-out visuals in favor of truly chilling and tense psychological terror. I mean, the Losers have to deal with a lot of arachnid-inspired imagery.” Richard Roeper, Chicago Sun-Times

“The devotion that Dauberman and Muschietti exhibit towards the Losers is palpable from start to finish, and despite some pitfalls in the film’s pacing, overall what they’ve managed to achieve with their collaborative efforts on IT Chapter Two is nothing short of monumental, and I think they’ve crafted something very special with these two films.” Heather Wixson, Daily Dead

“A psychologically merciless sequel, everything here is as it should be: deeper, scarier, funnier. Muschietti, in particular, has stepped up, skilfully guiding us through a rollicking funhouse. It is obscenely entertaining.” Alex Godfrey, Empire

” …even if Chapter One was example enough, there are no diminishing returns when it comes to shock value. Any time Pennywise feeds on life there is genuine sadness over the loss (the naivety and insecurities of his child victims contrasted with Bill Skarsgård’s master manipulator tendencies ensure it so), whether it’s a character we are attached to or someone newly introduced. ” Richard Kodjer, Flickering Myth

“The terror of Pennywise is best glimpsed fleetingly. See the clown too many times, and he becomes a familiar joke. But also letting the air out of things is Muschietti’s penchant for CGI scares, where practical effects would be far more effective. The movie’s many monstrosities – a crawling eyeball! a giant spider! an insect with the head of a human infant! – don’t inspire fear.” Barry Hertz, The Globe and Mail

” …Chapter Two seems to consist of an indefinite number of big, scary set pieces, featuring interchangeable snaggle-toothed creatures, or occasionally gigantic, fairground-sized monsters lurching grotesquely up out of nowhere. The scenes deliver reasonably efficient scares, but with the tension level repeatedly and disconcertingly reset afterwards to zero…” Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian

“Muschietti’s faithful adaptation, with all its creative and creepy set pieces, can’t justify that ass-numbing run time; especially not when the characters are just doing a lot of the same things they did in the first movie. They run into cobwebbed houses, stare down nightmarish visions and get tangled up with a clown that can morph into all kinds of silly, gigantic creatures. It’s all so easily forgettable.” Radheyan Simonpillai, Now Toronto

“Chapter Two is darker than the first, Bill’s attempt to deal with the guilt of losing his little brother by saving another ending in a brutal bit of bloodshed. Yet there are really only a couple of scary jolts, too many scary CGI puppets repeating themselves, too many effects beholden to Carpenter’s The Thing. McAvoy feels miscast here, perhaps a first for the actor.  Chastain, Ransone and Hader do a great job updating their childhood counterparts…” Laura Clifford, Reeling Reviews

“Maybe it’s just that an evil clown terrorizing kids is intrinsically scarier than one going after adults. Or maybe it’s that the filmmakers, apparently believing this themselves, put the majority of their focus on a series of digitally created monstrosities. Whatever the case, It: Chapter Two, though ultimately satisfying, doesn’t get at the deep-seated creeps its predecessor did.” Michael Gingold, Rue Morgue

“IT: Chapter Two never really depicts the way dewy sentimentality can curdle into pain and regret or considers whether the other side of middle age offers a way of letting go of the past. Its monster only occasionally embodies the otherworldly fearfulness that leads the characters to speak of it in hushed tones. But at least Muschietti is trying for something epic and intimidating…” Keith Phipps, The Verge

” …when the filmmakers don’t force the story to fit into strict parameters and just let the story flow with these characters that we love, IT Chapter Two can be just as effective and emotional as the first film. For fans of the novel, you shouldn’t miss this because much of what we love about the book makes its way to the screen, even if it can’t completely hit every high point. IT Chapter Two is clunky, too long, and not as scary as it could have been, but when it hits, it really hits.” Alan Cerny, Vital Thrills

“Real trauma is given the same consideration as a literal funhouse of horrors, which cheapens what the characters and audience are put through.” Alan Silberman, Washington Post

“What stands out in It Chapter Two is not the clearly labored-over insect effects but that moment with Mrs Kersh and the scene of Pennywise as Beverly’s father — both reliant on actors rather than technical wizardry. The human eye can tell that there is not much in effects but effects themselves with a story like this about evil. But an actor like Gregson or Skarsgård can channel evil for us because they are human…” Dan Callahan, The Wrap

NB. Scroll further down past the trailers for YouTube reviews

The New Line Cinema production is obviously the sequel to the smash-hit horror movie IT (2017) which took a whopping $700,381,748 at the box office worldwide against a reported budget of $35 million.

Controversy:

As reported by 9news, some parents in Australia say that giant billboards of Pennywise’s face have been giving their young children nightmares.

“It just totally freaks them out,” Brisbane mother Kellie told the Australian news outlet, speaking about her kids’ reaction to the billboards. Her daughter Piper added: “I get really scared because it’s hard to go to bed when you have a scary picture in your mind. Before I go to bed, I have to check the whole room. And when I finally go to bed I will wake up after a nightmare.”

Another mother also told 9news that her child is terrified by the imagery. “Some people do enjoy going to horror movies and that’s fine and that’s their choice, and I understand that but we’re not choosing to see this poster,” said Jane, who issued a complaint with Ad Standards. The latter body has confirmed that the ads don’t break any of their rules. [Source: Bloody Disgusting]

Production:

Filming on IT: Chapter 2 officially began on June 20 in Toronto with a release date of September 6, 2019.

Background:

IT: Chapter Two clocks in at a whopping 169 minutes.

“A movie is very different when you’re writing the script and you’re building a story compared to what the final product is,” director Andy Muschietti told Digital Spy and other press.

“At the beginning, when you’re writing and building the beats of the story, everything that you put in there seems very essential to the story. However, when you have the movie finally edited and it’s 4 hours long, you realise that some of the events and some of the beats can be easily lifted but the essence of the story remains intact.

“You cannot deliver a 4-hour movie because people will start to feel uncomfortable – no matter what they see – but we ended up having a movie that is 2 hours and 45 minutes, and the pacing is very good. “Nobody who’s seen the movie has had any complaint.”

Cast and characters:

Jack Dylan Grazer … Young Eddie

James McAvoy … Bill Denbrough

Jessica Chastain … Beverly Marsh

Bill Skarsgård … Pennywise

Sophia Lillis … Young Beverly

Finn Wolfhard … Young Richie

Bill Hader … Richie Tozier

Jaeden Martell … Young Bill

Jay Ryan … Ben Hanscom

Kate Corbett … Dean’s Mom

Javier Botet

Xavier Dolan … Adrian Mellon

James Ransone … Eddie Kaspbrak

Owen Teague … Patrick Hockstetter

Jess Weixler … Audra Phillips

Jake Weary … John ‘Webby’ Garton

Nicholas Hamilton … Young Henry

Wyatt Oleff … Young Stanley

Isaiah Mustafa … Mike Hanlon

Jeremy Ray Taylor … Young Ben

Jackson Robert Scott … Georgie Denborough (rumored)

Teach Grant … Henry Bowers

Andy Bean … Stanley Uris

Chosen Jacobs … Young Mike

Stephen Bogaert … Mr. Marsh

Logan Thompson … Victor Criss

Taylor Frey … Don Hagarty

Ryan Kiera Armstrong … Victoria

Janet Porter … Richie’s Mother

Jake Sim … Belch Huggins

Amanda Zhou … Waitress

Kelly Van der Burg … Victoria’s Mom

Angela Thompson … Comedy Show Patron

Will Beinbrink … Tom Rogan

Ari Cohen … Rabbi Uris

Lyla Elliott … Dead Young Girl

Angelica Alejandro … Asian Waitress

Rob Ramsay … Meaner Nurse

Divan Meyer … Audience Member

Erik Junnola … Bully

Anthony Ulc … Joe The Butcher

Martavius Gayles … Paramedic

Connor Smith … Carny

Shannon Widdis … Cheerleader #1

John Connon … John Koontz

Elena Khan … Derry townsperson

Chris Jiggins … Paramedic

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Image credits: Brooke Palmer / Warner Bros. Entertainment

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IT: Chapter Two released on 4K Ultra-HD, Blu-ray, DVD, Digital soon – invite Pennywise into your home! IT: Chapter Two will be released by Warner Bros. in the USA on Digital on November 19th 2019 and on…

[odderancyart]

The Dark Brotherhood AU/Skyrim AU

Let’s see what Red is up to

Blackcherry. On AO3. The song can be found here

Warnings: blood, murder, suggestiveness

Evening was already falling as the city guards opened the gates to Riften. Red nodded at them, grinning, as they greeted him cheerfully. People in Riften were suspicious of outsiders, with all right, but he’d been coming here for years now and knew mostly everyone in the entire city. Though they didn’t know him as Red the assassin, no. To them, he was a travelling bard named Cherry. He’d even had a certificate from the Bard’s College in Solitude faked, just in case, and they had enough contacts within the college itself that he would be backed up if someone declared him a liar.

The streets were mostly empty this late. There were a few guards, a couple people straying toward the tavern, and some tradesmen packing up for the night. A child rushed past him, carrying a package of fish, and he saluted them, receiving a happy wave in return. Turning around the corner, he stepped up to the front door of The Bee and the Barb, his favourite tavern.

As he stepped in, the warmth washing over him, he quickly studied the room. The doors were easy to access, and lots of open surfaces, as always. Most of the people in here were half-drunk, except for the three people in Thieves’ Guild-armour playing cards in the corner. Those people ruled this city, Red knew, and controlled the Jarl’s every decision. The real power laid in the Ratways beneath Riften. The old sewers.

Within a second, he’d analysed the room, and found his target. The Jarl’s son, sitting together with those thieves, playing cards. Red’s client wanted him dead, and Red would deliver. Why, he hadn’t been told, but it was none of his business even though he could guess. He was a hopeless gambler who never paid up his debts.

No specifications on the method, only that it should happen in plain sight. That would crave finesse, if he didn’t want his prospects for future undercover visits to Riften to disappear, and admittedly, that was his brother’s forte, not his. Red was more of a beat them ‘til they die and throw them in a ditch-kind of assassin. But since he knew Riften better than anyone – even Razz and Slim who’d lived here for a while, since they’d been too young to explore – he’d been given this mission, and recruited Slim for assistance His fellow Brother was a good assassin on his own, but extraordinary when working together with someone.

At least, if it all went to hell, some of the thieves owed him.

Realizing that he’d showed up, Torbjörn, the red-bearded man behind the counter, waved. “Cherry! Nice to see you again, my friend. Had any adventures since your last visit?”

Heaving himself up on the table nearest to the counter, he shrugged, pulling down the lute he had tied to his back, next to his bow. A bow of his own design: it looked almost exactly like your average hunter’s bow but was ten times as powerful. He thrummed at the strings, tuning the instrument somewhat. “Nothin’ much, unless ya count only just escapin’ a pack o’ wolves near Dawnstar.”

“Oh those wolves,” a light voice commented. Maj, the owner of the tavern and Torbjörn’s wife, put down a mug full of ale next to him with a thump. “Always causing trouble.” She nodded toward the mug. “On the house.”

Of course it was. If they wanted a bard to play and lure in customers, they better not demand said bard pay for their own food. Nonetheless he nodded, smiling at her. “Thanks, ’preciate it.”

“Our pleasure, we’re always happy to see you.” She meant it too, which honestly only made Red’s reason to be here so much funnier. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy his visits in Riften, because he did, or their company, or the fact that he’d had them fooled for years, but the mere thought of what she’d say if she knew he was here for the Brotherhood, to assassinate the Jarl’s son in exchange for gold, made him grin.

“Watcha want me to play?” he asked, raising his voice. Requests rained down until he pulled his fingers over the strings, and the first tunes formed. A hush fell over the room. “From the mists of the mountains, a deafening call bellows over the plains. On a host of battle-worn ears does it fall, pushing out through the thunder and rain…”

Sovnagarde. The favourite song of many Nords. His voice was rough but strong and pleasant to listen to. Red knew he was a good singer, and a good lute-player. As he moved his fingers over the strings of his instrument, he regarded the room. Everyone’s eyes were on him. Perfect. Even Maj, as she went around serving drinks, rarely took her eyes off him. Especially when he embroidered out the interlude, concentrating hard on making it as complicated as he could. To win their attention.

He certainly wasn’t enjoying the awe on their faces.

A crash echoed through the room, followed by a scream. A horrible noise went through the room as Red raked his claws over the strings deliberately before cutting off, and he twisted around on the table just in time to see the Jarl’s son slide to the ground with a moan. In the corner of his eye, a dark-dressed man slid out the nearby door. As he fell, his head nearly fell off. A long, bleeding slit had cut it halfway through. It was an effort to look horrified instead of breaking out in a grin, and his face tensed.

One of the thieves the target had been playing cards with sank down to his side, feeling for his pulse. He shook his head. “Dead.” That woke everyone up, and two men rushed out the door where Slim had disappeared.

Glancing around the room, Red found that the crash had come from Maj dropping her tray. The ale bottle had turned into a thousand pieces, and the liquid was seeping into the wooden floor.

“Someone, call the guards!” someone else screamed. Oh dammit did they already think of that? Sometimes the shock would be enough to grant them a couple minutes to escape. Not that Red would be escaping tonight, but Slim absolutely would. Hopefully he was already halfway out of Riften by now, and then he’d ride straight back to the Sanctuary and let everyone know the mission was a success. As Red shifted, the money in his moneybag moved by his leg. The money he’d gotten paid for this. Two hundred septim. A third had gone to him, a third to Slim, and a third to the Sanctuary itself.

Soon, guards swarmed the place, hoisting out the body and questioning folks. But no one bothered to ask him: after all, every soul in the tavern could witness that he’d been much too busy playing lute to murder someone in plain sight without being noticed. They could witness that everyone had been looking at him, much too busy listening to pay attention to the stranger who’d swept by.

The tavern was full of frantic activity as he made his way up to Torbjörn, who was still behind the desk, deathly pale. “I assume I ain’t singin’ anymore tonight,” he said. “My usual room?”

Torbjörn nodded, moving on autopilot as he stuck in his hand beneath the desk and handed Red the metal key. He blinked before finally actually looking at Red again. “I’m real sorry your first day in Riften in months ended like this.”

“It’s not yer fault,” Red pointed out, smiling sympathetically. It turned into a smirk. “Unless yer th’ murderer, o’ course.” When Torbjörn flinched, he schooled his face into something apologetic. “Sorry, bad taste. But I’ll be continuing on my way tomorrow. ‘M going ta Fort Dawnguard. Th’ vampire hunters may need some entertainment, dontcha think?”

“You’re a kind soul, Cherry.” His voice sounded a bit distant, as though he was close to fainting.

Red grinned at him. “Ya should probably sit down.” Twisting the key around his finger, he turned nodded. “G’night. I hope this mess gets cleaned up soon.”

“Goodnight.”

As soon as he got up to his room, he broke out into a huge grin. Holy shit that had been too easy.

…

The journey home took close to two days since he had to take an extra tour toward Fort Dawnguard, but as he finally stepped through the Black Door into the Sanctuary and heard the familiar sound of Razz bragging about his latest kill in the next room, he couldn’t help but grin. As he stepped into the great stone hall, he saw Razz lounging against one of the stone pillars, smirking as he spoke with Axe, who was tending to her battle axe. What her born name was, Red hadn’t the faintest idea, and neither did he care. Axe was a Sister of the Brotherhood and that’s all that mattered where they were concerned.

“-five people,” Razz said, pride lacing his voice, “and I was in the corner, knife to my target’s neck. I slit her throat, drew my sword, and then-”

“I’m sure you were awesome, darlin’,” Red interrupted, putting his arms over Razz’s shoulders from behind and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Razz shut up, throwing him an annoyed glare. Hidden affection glimmered in there, just like Red liked it. They were both emotionally dysfunctional assholes and that was perfect. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

“And how did you mission go?” Razz asked, leaning into his embrace despite how his gaze didn’t soften in the least. “Left the actual work to my brother, I hear?”

“Yeah Red, that was real unlike you,” Axe commented, pressing her fingertip against the edge of her weapon, grinning gleefully as it immediately drew blood.

“Hey,” he protested, frowning. “I enjoy Riften, ‘s an awfully immoral city an’ tha’ fits me. Doesn’t matter much if the people o’ Solitude knows ‘m an assassin, but I’d rather be able ta go back to the Rift without gettin’ hunted.”

It was only the people they needed to worry about, though. The Jarls, or the High Queen, would never put a price on a member of the Dark Brotherhood, risking making enemies out of them. They were a… necessary evil, he believed they said. A service the rich and powerful wanted to have at hand, and so they could hardly hunt them down. After all, wouldn’t it be unfortunate if you couldn’t arrange incidents for your enemies every now and then?

“Coward.”

Chuckling, Red fingered at the knife Razz had strapped to his leg as always. For a moment, he considered stealing it before Razz’s fingers closed around his, the tips of his claws digging into the bone.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “I will cut you.”

“Is that an invitation?” Red purred into his ear, grin growing as a faint purple tinted Razz’s cheeks and his glare grew more vicious, but he did let go. That knife had been Razz’s first own weapon, and he treasured it like nothing else. He’d been given it when he was ten and deemed skilled enough to carry a weapon. He’d been so proud.

Despite his blush, Razz twisted his head around, clamping down on Red’s neck. Red hissed, sparks travelling down his back. “Shut up, asshole,” Razz muttered. “Later, maybe.”

“Ey, you two. Keep it decent. I don’t wanna watch this.”

Red stuck out his tongue at her.

A head stuck out from around the corner, and blue eyes peered at them, flickering nervously between them. Blue. He and his brother had been here for a week, and both of them had yet to get accustomed to it. They were incredibly jumpy, and obviously terrified of most of them. Not that Red could blame them, they were an intimidating sort. “Uhm, Axe?” Blue almost squeaked as all of their eyes fell on him. “Master Wingdings has a job for you. In the alchemy lab.”

Grinning in delight, Axe swung her axe over her shoulder, nodding. “Awesome. I was growing bored.”

“Kill well,” Razz wished her.

“Oh, I will.”

As she disappeared toward the alchemy lab, Blue lingered, as though he was uncertain where he was supposed to be now. Red didn’t know much about the newcomers’ background, except that Blue had hired Razz to kill the woman who raised them – which didn’t exactly paint a pretty picture – so he was going to excuse that kind of uncertainty for once. “Ey, Blue,” he called. Blue twitched, eyes immediately on him. “Come down an’ join us. Razz an’ I were just going ta grab a bite.”

“We’re we?” Razz raised an eyebrow, and Red nodded.

“We were. ‘M starvin’. Haven’t had food all day.” As on que, his stomach growled, and he pointed. “See?”

Snorting, Razz nodded. Blue approached, obviously still hesitant around Red, but they didn’t give him a chance to worry. He grabbed Razz’s wrist, and Razz grabbed Blue’s, and like that they marched into the kitchen. Just as Red reached out to open the dark wooden door, it was thrown open, and his soul jumped up in his throat as he threw himself backwards instinctually, just in time avoid getting it in his face.

Stretch rushed out of the kitchen, fury sparking in his eyelights. Blue squeaked his name, but he didn’t as much as glance at them before leaving toward the sleeping area. Wide-eyed, Red looked into the kitchen, only to see his brother standing leaned against the wall, stirring a teacup. His expression was completely neutral as he followed Stretch with his gaze before it flickered down to Red.

“What the fuck was that?” Red asked. Yeah Edge could be irritating but what the hell had he done to get Stretch up in a rage? The same person who – just like Blue – flinched if they moved too fast?

Edge considered for a moment before replying. “Just a… disagreement. Nothing you need to worry about, brother.” Without another word, he shouldered his way past them, toward the training room. Undoubtedly, they’d be hearing a sword against dummies soon.

Shrugging, Red stepped into the kitchen, grabbing some of the bread and dried meat on the shelves, shoving it into his mouth. Razz made a disgusted noise. Both of them handed Blue some of it as well – he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the concept of free access to the food, it seemed. But once he had his hands on it, he devoured it, just like Red.

“Where’s Slim?” He hadn’t seen him yet. Of course, that didn’t mean much, Slim wasn’t a very sociable person, and would often be found alone in the rafters with a book or something along those lines.

Razz shrugged. “Windhelm, I believe. Wingdings gave him a new contract as soon as he came home.” His eyes suddenly sparkled with glee. “From what I heard, it seems it’s going to be bloody, and all over Skyrim in a few days. It’s the High Queen’s advisor he’s taking down.”

“Oh nice.” He chuckled, patting Blue’s shoulder. “C’mon, don’t look so frightened. Yer one o’ us now, not gonna hurt ya.”

Blue’s shoulders sank, and he exhaled. “I know. I know.”

Raising an eyebrow, Red reached for a bottle of mead. He wasn’t so sure Blue did know, but it’d come eventually. Wasn’t surprising if he wasn’t particularly inclined to trust a bunch of assassins within a week, after all. In fact, that’d be quite stupid of him, even if he couldn’t do much if they did turn against him.

“If ya say so,” he said, taking a gulp of the mead, tasting of honey, before sending the bottle over to Razz. Razz held eye contact as he followed suit, an indirect kiss, causing Red to stiffen. Oh hell Red was getting him in bed later. He let out a growl as Razz licked his teeth and smirked.

“Blue,” he murmured, standing up abruptly. Blue’s gaze flickered to him. “Maybe you should leave.”

When Blue glanced at Razz, Razz’s grin grew wicked. With a nod, he basically fled, and as soon as the door slammed shut, Razz was on the table. With a growl of his own, he grabbed Red’s collar and pressed their teeth together, raking his fingers up his side. Red shivered, grinning into the rough kiss.

Fuck ‘later’.

[borusawa]

1 New Message

A/N: Finally this chapter is out oh my god. Why was it so HARD to write it? Anyway, i tried something new here, so it would be great if you shared your thoughts with me. You can read my other works in my masterlist. 

Beta reader: @abbypdg , thank you dear

Warnings: i guess this can make people mad... so sorry.

Word count: 4.823

< Chapter 1

CHAPTER 2: Party Memories

Was I that numb the night before? If I was, then I guess my goals were achieved. Either way, I didn’t want my morning after. I didn’t want that guy next to me and I didn’t want the regret brought by that. Disorganized flashbacks played in my head and probably the amount of memories was the reason why my head felt so heavy when I sat on the unknown bed, with my back facing the also unknown man. I was still dizzy from the alcohol poisoning I made my body go through the night before, and my movements weren’t exactly accurate. I went through my hair with my finger only to confirm my thoughts about how messy it was. I didn’t quite know what to do next. It was not the first time something like that happened to me but that time, I sincerely was lost in many ways and that scared the shit out of me. It’d been ten minutes since I woke up and I already knew I hated that day.

I took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind and remember: how could I possibly get there?

                   Night Before, 10:37PM, at the cab going to the party

“Whose party is it?”

“As I said before, it’s from friend of mine. You shouldn’t mind though, I wouldn’t put us in any trouble.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “… Again.” I looked through the window, the city passing by my eyes. As expected from a Friday night, the streets were clogged by people shoving their bodies inside any place that could mean break rules. That behave didn’t surprise me, if something I found amusing, it was the way people discharged their problems in meaningless encounters and unimportant events. However, who was I to judge? I was on my way to do the same. “Just so you know there’s a possibility Mitsuki might join us.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t need to be third wheel today or any day, for that matter.” I glared her, anger reflecting on my eyes.

Her hands automatically started to shook. “Relax; I think Shikadai will be there too.” She whispered after a pause: “Probably.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m hoping so.”

The cab stopped and we paid for the ride before getting out. The party was being hosted in a fucking mansion so it didn’t surprise me how extra it was, considering that most of Chocho friends were popular, expansive. It was themed as ‘tropical winter’ and I found myself thinking on how they came up with that idea. Either way, the theme was nice enough and provided a great amount of possible drinks which was exactly what I was looking for. The place was crowded by young people and was hard to spot known faces in the middle of the mess. I was able to see some freshmen that I saw on other parties before, and some guys I kissed before too, so it wasn’t all new faces but also not only unknown people how I would’ve liked. Despite the well-lit backyard, there where kids were throwing themselves on the pool; inside the house was full of dark spots, almost as if they were there to make out so it would be nothing more than a regular college party in a regular neighborhood; that is if it wasn’t for how rich the owners probably were.

As soon as we entered the house, we looked around for our precious alcohol and it didn’t took us long to find where the bar was. Soon, both our cups were filled and we directed ourselves to the backyard. We stood on a corner, talking and watching everyone doing things we weren’t willing to do, only because we weren’t drunk enough yet.

“That’s a really great place. Where did you find such a friend?” I said without looking at Chocho.

“I’m a funny cute girl; everyone just wants to be around me.” I gave her a look and she sighed. “Kagura is in my class, that’s how. He invited every sane mind possible to this party. It looks like only the insane ones attended though.”

“I guess I’m in the right place then.” I sighed. I was counting that “Shikadai and Mitsuki” didn’t also mean “Boruto” this time like it generally did. The true was that I wasn’t ready to look at his eyes and pretend like I usually did. No, I couldn’t. I was drinking to forget him, forget the fact that he would never be mine, to forget that Yuki existed, and to forget everything else that had to do with any of the previously mentioned things.

By the time we were with our fourth drinks in hands, Chocho spoke with a worried tone. “What made you come anyway? I thought partying wasn’t your first option.”

I knew she was staring at me but I was denying to look back at her. To answer the question, I just unlocked my phone and handed it to her, that way Chocho would understand by herself. For a moment, her gaze was completely focused on the screen and I asked for another drink. I had no idea how much alcohol it had, but I was already feeling dazed. Good.

“Oh.” She gave me my phone back and I opened the camera to take a selfie of us. Her face had a confused look. “How you’re coping with all this? It’s all so… sudden.”

“I’m not coping. I’m not even trying.” I held my phone up and smiled to the camera but Chocho was not following my mood. She squeezed my wrist pushing it down and making me face her. I rolled my eyes. “He is happy, by the look of it. I might as well be happy too. I deserve that, don't I?”

“Sarada, acting like you don’t care is not letting go, you know? You need to face your demons and decide if you will just give up or not.” Chocho sounded serious and that made me feel frustrated. Her eyes were fixated on mine and her hand was still holding my wrist unconsciously, probably for keep me from running. In the deep of my thoughts, I was able to see the true behind her words. However, denying and pretending was a lot easier. I knew someday it would not be enough, but that day wasn’t happening yet.

“To be fair, I need a hug… and a bottle of vodka.” Chocho rolled her eyes and I smirked. “But I need the vodka a lot more.”

                  Morning After

Sure, the party.

I started to wander the room with my eyes in order to find my glasses but they were nowhere visible from my position, so I stood up to catch my underwear in the ground. That’s where I got it wrong. I bent to grab it but I heard a yawn behind me and that froze me in place, praying in hope he wouldn’t wake up. My pray wasn’t answered though.

“That’s a-” I screamed interrupting his words, throwing myself on the floor. I hugged my legs in effort to hide the most of my body; I was able to hear his laugh even though I wasn’t looking at him. “-nice thing to be my first view in the morning.” My head, which was simply aching before, now was pulsating by the amount of blood that went up really fast. I heard a motion and soon, a pair of eyes was looking at me from the edge of the bed. “You don’t need to be so ashamed, you know?”

The moment I saw his face, I couldn’t get angrier with myself. “Who the fuck are you?” I asked, incapable of hide my discomfort while I spoke.

“You know, I should be the one asking since you’re in my house but I remember you.” He extended his hand for me but I only raised a brow, he pulled his hand back without questioning. “We met yesterday at the party. My name is…”

“What was the screaming?” Chocho opened the door in a hurry and I couldn’t be more grateful. Her hair has like an orange mess above her head. Important to emphasize that I’d never even seen her hair out of place before, so I was scared of what made us get to that point. When she spotted me from the other side of the room, her eyebrows lifted. “Oh fuck! Sarada, you’re naked.” Soon, her eyes went through the also very naked guy; her face went from scared to understanding. “Oh, no.” And she hit the door closing it again.

“Chocho!” I screamed but she didn’t come back. “Damn you.”

“You really don’t remember how we met?”

                  Night Before, 11:54PM, at the party

“This shit is booooooring.” I threw myself over Chocho’s lap. We were sitting on a couch, watching a really young girl throwing up in a bucket right in front of us. Fun. Despite the drinks, the party sucked and neither me, Chocho or Mitsuki were feeling the vibe. Shikadai, for my suffering, didn’t come and didn’t even bother to give us a plausible explanation. That let me third wheeling and alone in my worst night ever.

“Reality is boring, Sarada.” Mitsuki grinned at me.

I threw him a look and rolled my eyes. “I need more alcohol.”

I stood up and paced to the bar again. I stayed there for a while, knowing that Chocho and Mitsuki would know how to spend their time without me. Once I came back though, they weren’t as attached as I thought they would be, and actually the exact opposite happened: they were surrounded by at least five people, discomposedly talking.  When Chocho spotted me, she came smiling and putting her hands on my shoulders.

“Sarada, there you are.” Then she dragged me close to the people she was talking. “Guys, this is Sarada.” Some of them answered her greeting me and I greet them back. “So, we’re leaving this party.” The last sentence was directed to me.

I wasn’t really understand much, given that Mitsuki and Chocho were really comfortable with these people that I didn’t even know and they wanted to take me away from my alcohol. “What’s happening here? Why are we leaving?”

“Let’s face it, this party sucks. We are just going somewhere funnier.” These words came from a new voice and I looked to the person who spoke. Blue eyes stared me and a weird smirk spread on the completely new face for me. He had beautiful bright blond hair framing his face and his skin was so white I thought he couldn’t go anywhere close to the sun. The moment I frowned at his words, he took my hand to his lips and kissed it politely. For some reason, I found this act disgusting; maybe because I felt like kissing was too intimate for someone I didn’t even know the name. I pulled my hand from his grip and his grin grew wider. During our interaction the others kept their chatting, Mitsuki being the only one analyzing us as if it was important. “So… you’re the famous Sarada.”

“I’m not informed about the famous thing.” I narrowed my eyes. “Where is this somewhere funnier you’re talking about?”

“Could be anywhere you want.” His gallant tone made me rolled my eyes. Something about him was annoying the hell out of me. Is hate at first sight a thing?

I took a deep breath. “Mitsuki, who is he?” I was hoping the boy just took my hint and he decided to stop mocking me.

Mitsuki gave one of his smiles. “He’s Inojin, our fourth roommate.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sarada. As I said, I heard a lot about you.”

One thing I knew for sure: Inojin was indeed more annoying than Boruto. I couldn’t decide if it was because of the superiority in which he spoke or the overconfidence behind it, but I knew that when we left the party as a group nothing good was about to happen.

                  Morning After

Inojin took the bedsheet and threw it at me. “Now you can look for your clothes.”

I stood up using the bedsheet to cover my body. “I’m willing to say thank you, but now that I remember you I won’t.”

“That’s rude, four eyes.”

“You are rude.” I grabbed my panties with my feet, not daring to bend over again, and directed myself to the door without even looking back.

Once I was outside, I noticed that I wasn’t alone. “What happened here?”

All of my last night friends were distributed in the large living room in the most awkward positions. I didn’t remember anybody’s names but I could bet they also didn’t remember mine so we were fine. Chocho and Mitsuki were out of view and I assumed they were in the kitchen, though I didn’t know where the kitchen was so I just hunted for my clothes. The first thing I found were my glasses over the center table. I jumped over a girl’s sleeping body to find my dress behind the couch. I spotted my bra hanging in a door on the other side of the room and when I was halfway to my goal, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I automatically turned to the source of the touch.

“You’re alive.” Mitsuki said.

“Oh fuck, Mitsuki! You’re silent like a snake! Stop scaring the shit out of me.” I put my free hand on my chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m just happy you’re fine. As you can see most of our friends didn’t have that luck.” He motioned to the room as a whole.

“Actually, who are these people?” I whispered and raised both my eyebrows waiting for his answer.

“You don’t remember them?” He frowned.

I looked away. “Kind of, I mean, I know they were with us last night.”

Mitsuki did nothing but sigh and raised his hand to his forehead. “The girl you jumped over is Namida.” He then pointed to the guy thrown in the couch. “He is Iwabe and the girl pretending she is sleeping to hear our talk is Wasabi. Good morning, Wasabi.”

“Damn you, Mitsuki.” The girl – apparently Wasabi – screamed out his name and got up from the floor. “Good morning, Sarada.” She smiled at me. So they knew my name, oh no.

“Good morning…” I said a bit confused.

In that moment, we heard a vomiting sound coming from a nearby door that I assumed it was the bathroom. I mean, hopefully it was the bathroom. “And you are hearing Denki. He’s not strong for drinking.”

“I see.” I nodded slightly. “Where is Chocho, by the way?”

“She’s in the kitchen.” Of course. Mitsuki tilted his head to the side and smiled at me. “Weren’t you looking for your clothes?”

The sudden memory of my nakedness hit me. “Uhmmm, so, I got to dress up.” I whispered to Mitsuki and hurried to my bra. When I grabbed it, I felt that it was a little wet. “Does anybody knows why is my bra wet?” The only answer I got was Wasabi’s laugh.

                  Night Before, 12:46PM, at the public pool

“Come on, Chocho. We’ll be fine!”

“I’m not agreeing with that.”

“Pretty please?”

“It’s too high.”

“No it’s not! It’s just…” I turned to face the guy by my side. I had never seen this guy before in my entire life, but still I was in the public pool with an almost empty bottle of vodka with him and his friends in the middle of the night, afraid as fuck of being caught but at the same time, willing for the adrenaline. I whispered for him, and only him, to hear. “How high is the jump?”

He rolled his eyes. His blond hair was shining in the moonlight. He answered quickly and low with a smirk playing on his lips. “High enough for someone to die.”

“That’s not helpful, you know? You’re such a creep dude.” I hissed. I was trying to make Chocho follow me and jump from the trampoline. She was not exactly excited about the idea.

“So why are you with us?”

“Shut the fuck up. I have nothing better to do, that’s why.” I sighed. “Can you answer me, though?”

“I think it’s 5 meters high.”

“Fuck. I can’t say that to her. Thanks for nothing, weirdo.” I turned to Chocho again. “As I was saying, it’s not that high.”

“Yes it is. Don’t believe in her.” Inojin said.

“I’m okay if you don’t want to help me, but do you really need to muddle things up?” He answered me with a grin. “Alright.” I couldn’t look at his face and hold my urge to kill him at the same time anymore. “Mitsuki, will you help me here?”

His creepy smile spread up on his face. “No way. Bold of you to assume I would.”

“Urgh, I’ll go alone then. You’re a bunch of pussies.” I rolled my eyes before my pace guided me to the stairs of the trampoline.

I took a deep breath; there was no turning back now. Our group of seven people, including my dork friends stared at me steadily all the way, until I reached the top. I was holding the handrails by my side carefully, before I threw a quick look down. Fuck, it looked even higher from there. On the other hand I could see a lot of things from there. I wasn’t with my glasses so I couldn’t really see much, but I was able to see the blurry of everyone’s heads and the little lights from outside. I was able to see the sky and I was feeling closer to it, both because of my height and my imminent death in front of me.

“You can give up. We will just make fun of you for the rest of your life if you do.” Inojin screamed at me. I heard Chocho complaining with him for his words.

“Oh, go fuck yourself.” I shouted back.

Carefully, step by step, I was getting to the border of the trampoline. I let go of the handrail and then I was on my own. I was able to feel my heartbeat increasing at each movement I made, my adrenaline was high and my hands were sweating. I closed my eyes for a while and everyone fell silent. I released my body frontwards and I opened my eyes again. There was no way I was going to lose the view all the way down. The falling felt like an hour long even though it was probably really quick. The cold air of the night was almost hurting my skin and the lights were passing fast. When the water finally hit my skin I was ready. I felt free. When I popped my head off the water, I could hear the cheering and that made me smile. When I was able to see clearly again, I spotted everyone getting closer.

“Damn, I can’t believe you did it.” Chocho screamed in awe.

“To be fair, me neither.” I smiled. “You guys should enter the water now, it’s warm.”

                  Morning After

As I was remembering things, I was regretting them. Moreover, that wasn’t taking me anywhere good and I had enough on my mind already. I took my bra, knocked and looked for an empty room to change. The apartment wasn’t that big which meant that I could change in only two possible places: the room I just had exit and the bathroom. My obvious choice was the bathroom but when I got closer to the door, I heard Denki throwing up even worse. One thing was settled then, I would not enter this bathroom not in that moment not ever. I sadly walked to Inojin’s room and knocked on the door lightly.

“Hey, could you get out for a moment?” Inojin opened the door and he was obviously still naked. I closed my eyes instinctively. “Could you dress up, please?”

“No.” I turned back pacing to the bathroom. “Didn’t you want something?”

“Yes, your death.” He closed the door with a hit. Yeah, I guess I’m entering the bathroom then. I knocked slightly on the door. “Denki? Are you alive?”

I heard some grunts and then the door opened. I’d never seen someone with such a bad hangover like him. “I’m fine.” He smiled and left.

I tried to put my clothes as quick as possible so Denki could get rid of his hangover self in peace. When I got out, I simply took my purse and announced that I was out. Chocho then precipitated from the kitchen, shouting she was going with me and giving a goodbye kiss to her boyfriend while I waited patiently on the door. In the hallway, she threw her arms around my shoulders and I shivered from the contact.

“Don’t worry, Sarada, let’s go home. Monday we will do a STD test on you.” Chocho smirked. I wasn’t ready to make jokes about this just yet.

I didn’t know what time was it and my phone was off. I was trying to force my mind to go through last night memories once again but I couldn’t remember anything else. The elevator was empty when it stopped on the floor we were (what was it again?), I put my forehead on the cold wall in a futile attempt of relieve the pain. Chocho kept silence, feeling her own hangover and trying to fix her hair in a bun using the elevator’s mirror as a guide. When we got to the cab, I made her a question even though I was afraid of the answer.

“What did we do after the pool yesterday?”

“Where are you going?” The taxi driver asked once we hop in. I gave him the instructions to our building and stared Chocho as she was thinking. The car started.

“I guess we went to a drug dealer.” The driver peeked through the rearview looking partially scared. I, on the other hand, couldn’t contain my surprise.

“WE DID WHAT?” I said exasperatedly with widened eyes.

Chocho’s laughs filled the car. “No we didn’t, I just messing with you.” She managed to say after a while. “I find amusing that you’re asking me what you did. You were having the night of your life apparently.” I tilted my head, my hair falling on my face. No words needed, Chocho kept talking while she was also typing her phone. How was that thing still on? “We only went to the convenience store to buy more vodka. You even took a ride on the cart with Mitsuki pushing you everywhere.”

I placed my hair behind my ear. “Is it weird that I feel like a kid now?”

“Well, you were acting like a kid yesterday, so I don’t see any problem.” I rolled my eyes at her statement. “After that, we just went to his apartment. I slept but every sign indicates that you…”

“We’re here.” The car stopped and I forcefully drag my body inside the building as Chocho properly paid. I pressed the elevator button and forced my mind even further. Why couldn’t I remember that part of the night before?

               Night before, 2:24AM, Inojin’s apartment

“We’re the only ones up, turn off the lights.” I took a sip of the bottle in my hands. We were sitting on the living room floor, our backs resting on the couch where Iwabe slept soundly.

Inojin got really close to me and spoke, releasing his alcoholic breath all over my face and smirking. “I don’t want to. If you want the lights off then you get up and you turn them off.” Honestly, he looked really drunk, the bag under his eyes prominent and eyes drifting close occasionally. Probably I wasn’t much better. As soon as he got close, I placed a hand on his face, moving him away from me.

“You smell bad.” I closed my eyes and threw myself on the opposite side of him

“You smell like flowers.”

I sat up widening my eyes. “Really?”

He huffed. “Of course not, you smell like chlorine and alcohol. In a bad way.”

“Is there a good way to smell as alcohol and chlorine?” I said between giggles.

“Well, if you were me…” He grinned.

“I hate you. Seriously.” I said in a serious tone. I meant it.

“It’s okay, I love myself enough for the two of us.” I ignored him and made a sad noise, faking a cry. “What?”

“The lights are making my head ache.”

“As I said, get up and turn them off.” I rolled my eyes and handed him the bottle.

The switcher was close to the front door and in the exact opposite of where we were sitting. When I turned the lights off, everything was still clear just not directly enlightened. I turned myself and faced Inojin. He was smirking behind the curtain of blond hair in his face, his gaze fixed in me. I smirked back and decided to make things funnier. I removed my bra without removing my dress and positioned it in the door handle. We burst out in laugh and I paced back to my former place.

“Shhhhhh, be quiet! We can’t wake them up.” I whispered to him with my index finger over my mouth. Inojin placed his hand over his mouth but remained laughing loud and that made me laugh even harder.

                  Morning after

The elevator stopped and I held it for Chocho. She smiled at me while entering but I wasn’t capable of thinking right enough to react. The night before and its events were bothering me. It bothered me the fact that I couldn’t recall anything besides what I got by then. I was completely bothered by the fact that I woke up beside a guy I met the night before. However, what bothered me the most was that I couldn’t remember how. I remembered when I took my clothes off but I didn’t remember how he tasted like. I remembered of taking his clothes off but I didn’t remember his touch. I clearly recalled his loud laugh and I remembered of how I felt drunk but I wasn’t able to remember how he was. Well, I thought that I was going die trying to remember.

Chocho opened the door to our apartment while I walked in a daze through the hall. The first thing I spotted, even before getting to the door, was a purple haired girl in pajamas and slippers; she was sitting on the couch absent-mindly, looking through the channels of the television. As soon as I stepped inside, she threw a quick glance on me.

Sumire giggled. “Girl, you’re wasted.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

I was past her and she was facing my back when I heard her low voice behind me. “The name of the lucky guy waking up by your side this morning.”

I turned myself. “What?” That was the only thing I could say after an instant of silence.

“Chocho sent me a message earlier saying that she found you naked inside Inojin’s room and another one later saying that you had a blank and remembered nothing. I just put one plus one together.”

I held the arch of my nose. I had to deal with Chocho later. “Whatever, I just need a cup of coffee.” I said, already inside of my room.

“And a STD test.” Sumire shouted and laughed right after. I hit my door strongly.

Inside my room, the first thing I did was connect my phone on the charger. Then I directed myself to my bathroom to take a much-needed cold shower. I put my pajamas and threw myself on the bed. My bed, finally. I took a deep breath, smelling my recently changed bedsheets. Before I drifted into sleep, I turned on my phone too see what time was it. It was only 9:17AM so it mean I could be lazy till noon. Before leaving my phone behind, I decided to check my messages.

4 new messages

11:11PM Shikadai

I won’t go, sorry Sarada

11:57PM Chocho

Where r u? I want you to meet our

new frieeeends :))))

1:43AM Sumire

Are you two coming home today?

8:43AM Idiot

Will you help me with the moving? Please

say yes :’(

It took me a while to understand what Boruto was talking about but when I did, I almost cried. I promised him I would help with the moving day and sadly, I liked to keep my word. I stood up and changed, cursing everything in my way and preparing myself for the rest of the day.

Now Me

I’m going

Now Idiot

Wait home, I’ll pick you up there. Are you

in for breakfast?

Now Me

Only if it’s at Ally’s

Now Idiot

Is there any other possible place?

I smiled.

[residentgoodgirl]

Apr 14, 2019

Kacey Musgraves looked out from the main stage of the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival and took in the sea of people gathered to watch her play as the sun set on Friday evening.

This was her first time at the annual desert blowout, she told the crowd — the latest step in a successful crossover effort that’s made something of a pop star of this psychedelically inclined country singer.

“Needless to say, I’m very excited,” Musgraves said. Yet her hope was that everyone, including herself, could focus on the beauty of the right-here-and-now and “forget about everything else.”

Well, almost everything.

Introducing her song “Mother” just a few minutes later, Musgraves acknowledged that her audience extended beyond the boundaries of Indio’s picturesque Empire Polo Club — specifically to her native Texas, where she said her mom was watching Coachella’s livestream on YouTube.

Musgraves wasn’t the only one with that kind of information in mind. A marquee performance by Childish Gambino relied on exquisite images designed for close inspection rather than viewing from hundreds of yards away.

A year after Beyoncé’s instant-classic performance at Coachella 2018 brought new attention to this already closely watched event, it was easy to sense the widespread awareness of that online scrutiny during the 20th-anniversary edition, which featured Childish Gambino and Tame Impala as headliners on its first two nights and was expected to close late Sunday with Ariana Grande. Coachella will repeat this coming weekend in the same place with essentially the same lineup.

As the first major festival in an increasingly crowded season, Coachella is accustomed to the spotlight; indeed, it’s what transformed a once-scrappy rock-heavy gig into a lifestyle destination (not to mention a cash cow for the company behind it, Los Angeles-based Goldenvoice).

But Beychella, as last year’s extravaganza quickly became known, raised the creative stakes with its thoughtful and heartfelt reimagining of a halftime show at a historically black college. By putting on such an unforgettable performance — one she’s revisiting in a hotly anticipated Netflix documentary due Wednesday — Beyoncé pushed other artists to create event-like moments more ambitious than a typical festival appearance.

That certainly seemed to be the case with Childish Gambino, the alter ego of actor Donald Glover, who began his set by informing the audience that what we were witnessing wasn’t a concert but an “experience.”

And so it was: With mobile cameras feeding carefully composed close-ups to enormous video screens as Glover sang, danced and descended into the crowd at one point to find someone eager to smoke with him, the show felt more like a mini-movie than a live performance; the cinematography, if that’s the word to use, was as gorgeous as that on Glover’s brilliant FX series, “Atlanta.” (True to his auteur’s sensibility, Glover barred The Times from photographing the show.)

The problem was that, unlike Beychella, Childish Gambino’s set — with R&B and rap songs that rarely transcended Glover’s obvious admiration for Drake, Kanye West and Parliament-Funkadelic — seemed optimized for YouTube, not for the tens of thousands watching and listening on the ground at Coachella.

Ditto a historic performance by Blackpink, the first K-pop girl group to play the festival, that was simulcast on a digital billboard in New York’s Times Square. The music was sleek and vivid in the established K-pop fashion; the performers nailed their moves with style and precision.

But little about the show felt uniquely tied to the type of time-and-place moment that Musgraves had described earlier. The women knew that the crowd in front of them was dwarfed by the masses following along on social media, which made you feel a bit like someone with a ticket to the Super Bowl or the Oscars.

Sure, you’d made it into an exclusive space. But everyone watching from outside was enjoying the spectacle in the manner for which it was designed.

Other artists peppered their sets with stunts seemingly designed to gain traction online, be it Musgraves’ bringing out Baddie Winkle, the 90-year-old Instagram personality, during her song “High Horse,” or Weezer welcoming Tears for Fears and TLC’s Chilli to join the band for wink-wink covers of “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” and “No Scrubs,” respectively.

DJ Snake convened three unannounced guest stars — Cardi B, Selena Gomez and the Puerto Rican singer Ozuna — for a version of their collaborative hit “Taki Taki.” And Janelle Monáe addressed the outsiders in her fan base with a moving speech about the importance of being oneself “even if it makes others uncomfortable.”

Of course, Coachella isn’t exactly known for its outsider population. Though it might be unfairly thought of as a rich kids’ retreat, the festival inarguably attracts an audience sure of its own cultural cachet. Which means that the real misfits Monáe was appealing to probably weren’t in Indio on Friday night.

What, then, was to be gained by actually schlepping to Coachella?

One answer was confirmation that the Billie Eilish phenomenon is real. For weeks the 17-year-old L.A. native has been breathlessly hyped in the media as the new face of a new kind of teen pop: darker and weirder while also funnier and more self-aware.

But any suspicion that the story of Eilish’s popularity had outgrown her popularity itself was quelled Saturday night when she received a deafening hero’s welcome by a crowd she’d kept waiting for more than 30 minutes after her scheduled start time.

It was also a thrill to stand on the polo field and get a feel for the pride many clearly took in performances by the numerous Latinx acts at Coachella this year, including Rosalía, Mon Laferte and Los Tucanes de Tijuana.

On Saturday, J Balvin, the Colombian reggaeton star, used a portion of his main-stage set to “pay homage to the OGs,” as he put it, with loving renditions of N.O.R.E.’s “Oye Mi Canto” and Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” — songs that rightfully landed here like the foundational texts they are.

There was even, believe it or not, a you-had-to-be-there gig by a guitar band in Australia’s trippy Tame Impala, which took advantage of Coachella’s insanely powerful sound system to deliver a sensory overload that simply couldn’t be accessed via livestream. (Grande, the festival’s remaining headliner, was scheduled to perform late Sunday, after deadline for this article.)

Had Tame Impala masterminded a capital-E Event? Nah, and the result probably won’t be remembered for long.

But after so much high-level strategizing, it felt good to take in what was happening right in front of you.

[trcelyneart]

@saeyoungweek Day 4: Cars.

This is a WIP of a Need For Speed!AU one shot I'm working on. It's not finished yet, but here's the beginning!

-----

Luciel took long gulps from his lukewarm water bottle, leaning against the closed door of his car. The heat was sweltering, summer days becoming sultry with the cloudless sky, leaving him no chance of finding shelter from the burning sun. At least they were going to drive along the coast, where the marine winds brought some freshness and a nice smell of iodine. And his baby car was built to resist such weather, with an air conditioning to die for. The hardest part was to actually get out.

 The rules were simple. A two-week long race, from Incheon to Busan, with one race of thirty five kilometres each day. Only the best could participate, other pilots finding themselves betting high amounts of money on who would win by the end of it. He knew he was in the winners forecast, for 707 was almost a legend in the underground racing world, with his powerful Lamborghini Murciélago LP 640 he had upgraded and pimped himself – adding a large yellow strip, going from the middle of the hood to the roof and the rear, over the bright red steel - to become an asphalt killing machine. With a bit more effort and rocket science, he’d probably make it able to fly someday.

 He capped the bottle and licked his lips, his attention drawn to a familiar roaring sound to his right.

Well, what a surprise.

Or maybe not, actually.

How could he have even thought she would not participate? He turned his head, letting his gaze glide along the smooth lines of the white Koenigsegg Agera R. Fifteen copies sold throughout the world, 960CH, body made of carbon fiber and Kevlar, chassis made of the same materials plus aluminium, top speed nearing 400km/h. A racing monster. Even his baby which ranked among the most powerful cars looked like an entry-level model comparing to this godsend hypercar.

And well, pilots tended to match their cars, right? He was sure there was a saying of the sort.

 MC – or so was her pilot name - got out of her car in all her glory, lifting her sunglasses to the top of her head, locking her bangs away from her sweaty forehead. He let his gaze wander on her white, close-fitting strap stop, trying his best to ignore the wet spots on the fabric due to her perspiration, then her short shorts, along her gorgeous legs to her plum Dr.Martens. Her long brown hair was tied into a tight ponytail, its ends brushing the small of her back. He felt guilty for checking her out like this, but hey, if she had decided to wear such revealing clothes, he had to make the most of it. It wasn’t like she didn’t look divine in any outfit she wore, anyway.

         She had started racing six months before. She had simply showed up on one cold December night, clad in her signature plum Dr.Martens, black skinny jeans and a superb leather jacket with fake fur, claiming she wanted to race as well. The organisers had first laughed her off – the underground racing world, like the official one, did not leave a lot of place for women except for the window-dressing girls hired to help with the bets and signal the start of the races – and she had simply raised an eyebrow at them, not losing her composure. They surely had not liked how unshaken she had seemed, and Luciel had found himself snorting at their dumbstruck reactions. Her cool-headedness had been admirable. A few minutes after she had walked away, when the organisers had been sure this joke of a rich-looking girl was gone, she had barged into the crowd with her beast of a car, her wheels screeching and fuming as she drifted to stop right in front of Vanderwood 3rd, who had been in charge of the race that night. The black window had slowly rolled down, and she had rested her elbow on the ledge without a word. Luciel clearly remembered the silent exchange going on between them, MC lifting her eyebrow at them again, them holding her stare, until they had given up with a sigh and stepped aside to let her go to the starting line.

 And not only had she participated that night, but she had also won.

 That night, 707 had lost his first race in a long, very long while. After that, she kept on winning against him, overtaking him by a hair’s breadth every single time. The king of the road had been defeated to let a queen arise. No, not a queen. A goddess.

 To be fairly honest, the more he raced against her, the more exciting it got. In every sense of the term. Every race was a shot of adrenaline, doping his will to win fairly and with grandiosity; he wanted to conquer his throne back, and his rival made it harder and funnier each day that passed. His curiosity had slowly grown, replacing his pleasantly surprised reaction when she had got out of her car and gasped happily when a shocked Vanderwood had announced that she had been the winner. MC was an interesting person, never acting haughty despite her obvious wealthy background, but quick to put people in their place whenever they disregarded her.

Luciel highly respected her. Thanks to her, he had found pleasure in racing again. She was a more than worthy opponent.

And he also had a huge crush on her.

So yeah, watching her with so few clothing made his throat drier than it already was, and he muttered a small prayer as he fidgeted with the silver cross hanging on his neck in hope to be forgiven for checking her out so shamelessly. She spoke with a couple of people, smiling happily at them, until she glanced at him. Her smile grew larger and she waved at him, visibly glad her rival was there too. He waved back at her with less enthusiasm, too busy trying to kick his impure thoughts out of his brain to manage to concentrate fully on the gesture. She locked her car and walked to him, letting the tip of her fingers brush on the scorching hood of his until she stood next to him.

“Fancy seeing you here.” She said with a playful grin.

“I could say the same.” He replied, mirroring her expression.

“At least you’ll make this race more entertaining. It’s funnier when I get to compete against you.” She chuckled.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t have participated if I hadn’t been there?” Luciel teased.

She snatched his water bottle and took a few gulps before smiling at him “707, darling, don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re just making it more enjoyable.”

He couldn’t help but stare at her lips as she licked them to catch the drops that had leaked when he snorted “Glad to be your special someone.”

She held the bottle back to him and pointed back at the Agera with her thumb “I guess you could say that. Anyway, I gotta to get ready. Hope you’re gonna give all you have, 707. See you later!”

 She winked at him then turned around and left without looking back, only to be soon surrounded in a small crowd of people. Luciel sighed and drank what was left in the bottle, before tossing it into the nearest bin.

 He was not just going to give everything he had, he was going to blow her. Away of course.

 --

 The sun had already set, the sky turning into vivid shades of red and pink. Waves were crashing loudly against the rocks a few meters below the road. Luciel stopped his car right in front of the makeshift starting line and got out, leaning an arm on the roof, patting it gently as if it were his precious pet. He had won the qualifiers, which consisted in a one-by-one time-trial on the route they’d take that evening. Of course, they had not closed the road; the race was unofficial and illegal, like everything related to the underground racing world. It made it more dangerous and exciting.

 MC, unexpectedly, would start on third position. She had lost five precious seconds when she had to swerve to avoid a van, and had not managed to catch up afterwards. He had to use this advantage and distance her as fast as possible. He hoped he had enough nitro to manage to do that.

The Agera came in sight and stopped a few meters behind on his right, and she got out as well. He turned to glance at her, and when their eyes met, she finger gunned at him with an impish grin. He stuck his tongue out at her, before bursting into giggles. He could not deny that there was some kind of tension between them, mostly sexual, but also some kind of mutual understanding. They were like the two popular kids competing against each other, unable to focus on anyone else but the other, but also being secretly friends. They played a game. A dangerous one. One miscalculation, and their cars would be reduced to dust in less time they’d need to realise their mistake.

 But playing with death was his most favourite part of the game. It made him feel alive.

 Vanderwood walked to the middle of the road and waited for the eight pilots to be ready. They checked their watch, then pulled out a gun and fired a distress flare high in the sky. A few seconds later, other flares started shining along the road, signalling that everything was ready and that the coast was clear – in other words, that the cops were not there. Yet. Seven watched closely, and smiled to himself when all the lights had been fired. Vanderwood announced that the race was about to start, and all pilot got into their cars. A symphony of roaring engines came to Luciel’s ears, and he rolled his window down to enjoy the sounds his baby car made. He could also hear the very distinctive sound of the Agera.

 He hummed a random tune as his fingers hovered over the screen of his radio, searching for a nice song that could make a nice badass OST for the race. Something that would put him in a good mood. His eyes stopped on a particular song.

 The Resist Stance – Bad Religion

Perfect.

 As soon as the first guitar riffs echoed loudly around his ears and out of the car, he faintly shook his head in rhythm with the music. Vanderwood lifted their hand high.

He placed his foot over the pedal, his thumb rubbing the button of the handbrake and his hand ready to release it.

 The Agera flashed its lights behind him. He glanced at his right wing mirror.

 MC blew him a kiss.

 He smirked.

 Vanderwood dropped their arm. Luciel barely heard their shout between the screeching of the wheels and the thundering of the machines.

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #5 (1978)

It seems improbable that this comic book would run for 300 issues.

The United Kingdom has way too much history for such a small island. And being American, I know about 3% of it. I know there were some kings and queens, some named Elizabeth and others named George and then some guy named Oliver who fit in there somehow despite not being a king or queen. I know there are four nationalities that make up the country: Scottish, Irish, Welsh, and the boring one. I know there's a dragon on the Welsh flag and their language has too many consonants, probably because they spent so much time in mines. I know the Scottish only eat deep fried Mars bars. I know the Irish had some troubles because some of the Irish aren't British or something. And I know all the stupid political crap the American Republican party are going to do because they simply follow the Tory playbook a few months to a year after the Tories have pulled some racist bullshit. And it's not just the Tories! Seeing what the centrist Labour party members did to sabotage their own party is simply a window into what our centrist Democrats would love to do to the Leftists (and may have done! But they just haven't been exposed yet like the jerks in the Labour party). Also, and this might not seem like British History so much as a personal experience, I once fist bumped Jimmy Carr after he made a joke about me fucking pigeons. That was only one of the many times he took the piss out of me at the show. But I knew what I was getting into when I purchased front row tickets for Jimmy Carr. All that being said (terribly summed up and horribly accounted), I knew even less when I first read this story at 21. I didn't know the "Pigts" were a pun on "Picts." I just thought it was a stupid name for a loin cloth wearing tribe of people named after breakfast foods. That was good enough for me! But maybe this issue will be even funnier if I read the Wikipedia entry on Picts! Or scan the entry, at least. Or, at the very least and the most probable option, click on the link, read a few sentences, and realize I don't really care that much. I should probably read more non-fiction so that I actually know things about the world rather than reading another Lando Calrissian book until I know all the rules to Sabacc. In "A Note from the Publisher," Deni Loubert explains how this issue of Cerebus caused a lot of stress between the publisher and the artist due to money concerns. But in the end, Deni put in a lot of her money and solved the problem. I guess one of the few things Dave found possible to believe before breakfast was that his spouse would support him both financially and emotionally while he pursued his dreams. Dave's Swords of Cerebus essay went on for more than one page in its original printing and whoever reprinted it here forgot that there were a few extra paragraphs. So it's reprinted incomplete. That's okay because the bulk of it is about all the shortcuts he takes in drawing rain and shadows and how it's evident, as you progress through the story, how much sloppier and lazier his art becomes. But at the end, Dave Sim supplies a Gil Kane quote which made him think long and hard about how he was developing the story of Cerebus. I'd like to scan the quote but it's cut off halfway through because, as I said, somebody forgot the second page of the essay. Luckily I just happen to own the second volume of Swords of Cerebus, so I'll just type it out in a block quote.

"The difference between a comic book and a novel is not labor, not effort, it's the values. In other words, there are no meaningful values in a comic book. The people in comic books are two dimensional people going through the most elementary kind of situations, not enough to sustain anybody's interest beyond an adolescent. A novel has characterization, it has suspense, it has a structured situation full of substantial values that will hold the interest of an intelligent person. That's what I mean. Those values, if they're properly translated — Harvey Kurtzman translated them into comics. His comics were literate, they were intelligent, they were humane, they were interesting, they were funny, they were everything."

There's a second paragraph to the quote but it just brings up more inaccurate things that can be debated ad nauseam. I could argue with a lot of what Gil Kane says but he sort of argues my point at the end anyway with his discussion of Harvey Kurtzman. Basically, it depends on the author and what the author wants to bring to the comic book. Sure, characterization of a character that isn't really supposed to change much because the fans want what the fans have been getting (Batman, for instance) can be tough to pull off. But Gil Kane gets at my main problem with comic book fans who follow characters, buying any story their favorite is a part of: the characterization and story are entirely dependent on the current writer. And some writers just don't fucking care about anything except shitting out another script so they get paid. You'll find a lot of good examples of those kinds of writers in the beginning years of DC's The New 52 as they pretty much hired all of the worst writers from Marvel to launch some of their New 52 titles. Comic books make it easy for writers to write two dimensional characters and be satisfied with the garbage they produce. Fans just want another Batman story. Just stick Harley Quinn in there and it'll sell fifty thousand copies easy. Who cares who writes it as long as they always make their deadline. But that's not a flaw of the medium of comic books! That's a flaw of the writers and/or fans! The main takeaway with the Gil Kane quote is that it was nice that Dave Sim read it and thought about it and applied it to Cerebus. Maybe, at later points, he applies it too much! But if it got Dave to thinking about a larger story and a greater world chock full of characters with different ideologies and beliefs and motivations, I'll allow it to exist without being too hard on it. That's a lot of words. I need to shove a picture in here already.

This is what Page One of a Cerebus comic book looked like before Gerhard. "Pretty fucking awesome," you curse like a sailor. Later, by page four when the horizon has disappeared and the rain is simply ruler-straight vertical lines, you'll be thinking, "When the fuck does Dave hire Gerhard?"

Cerebus has found himself in the Red Marches where he's about to learn a little something about Cerebus from a bunch of long haired shirtless dudes. It's almost like when I was 17 at my first Iron Maiden show surrounded by sweaty shirtless men while I listened to Iron Maiden sing "Sun and Steel" and I thought, "Is this history?" Then later they sang "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and I was all, "I am learning!" I'm so glad I'm writing on the Internet so I don't have to hear anybody say, "What are you talking about? How are those two things alike, you moron?!" Besides, I said it was "almost" like, imaginary jerkos! The nearly naked men convince Cerebus to follow them back to their underground kingdom so he can meet Bran Mak Mufin, the greatest military leader in all of Estarcion. Plus he has an aardvark fetish so he's really going to want to meet Cerebus, no matter how badly Cerebus smells. See, the joke in this issue (which Dave mentions at the beginning of the essay I didn't scan) is that Cerebus' fur smells terrible when it gets wet. It's pretty funny if you think about how bad that could be! Like, really bad! Ha ha!

If he's so fucking great, why is he only the penultimate swordsman? My guess is because of Cerebus!

Look at that rain! That's the rain of an artist who doesn't fucking give a shit! When the fuck does Dave hire Gerhard? Bran Mak Mufin takes one look at Cerebus and has the kind of orgasm you have when you realize the prophecy has finally been fulfilled. Man, those are the best orgasms.

We could use a few good Pigts these days.

I'd forgotten this aspect of the Pigts. One thing I do remember is that Bran Mak Mufin was my favorite member of Cerebus's cabinet as Prime Minister. Wasn't he the only one to ever try to do the right thing? And doesn't he eventually walk away because of how terrible they're all acting? Or does he only finally leave when he believes they're going to be defeated, thus exposing the weakness of his own faith? Bran mentions the Black Tower Empire which, I'm assuming, is an empire which first caused the Black Tower to ascend, something Cerebus will manage later. We learn Cerebus is 26 which probably made me feel good when I first read this in that way you feel youthfully immortal when the protagonist of the story is older than you. Now I'm twenty years older than that and I can tell you the feeling is best described as enervating. Bran Mak Mufin offers to let Cerebus rest so they can talk refreshed in the morning. While trying to sleep, Cerebus hears some strange noises and heads off to investigate.

Notice the Cerebus-shaped heads on the walls. The Chosen One is about to discover he's the protagonist of this story.

I know there's a shot of a huge aadvark statue coming up that I could have scanned instead. I'm working my way up to that revelation! Cerebus spies on a large gathering of Pigts (no more than fifty since that's the size of Bran's army) to learn that he's the reincarnation of some ancient God-King worshiped by the Pigts. The prophecy even says that he will come to them in his 26th year! Holy smokes! You couldn't write this kind of prophecy! For a moment, Cerebus is tempted to assume the role of the Pigts' Redeemer God. I guess this is his "last temptation" moment. But his narcissism wins out over his greed. He would rather be Cerebus the Unique than Cerebus the Guy Who's Just Another Version of that Other Long Dead Guy. He smashes the statue that I forgot to mention and flees the Pigts' nonsense, heading towards Iest. Nothing to say about Aardvark Comment. Just some aardvark lovers getting their aardvark love on. It was embarrassing. Cerebus #5 Rating: B+. This issue is the first to give an inkling of something bigger happening across a longer story. It's still before Dave Sim decided he was going for 300 issues dedicated to the growth of the titular beast. But any time you can make the scope of the protagonist's world bigger, it makes for a more compelling story. I'm definitely more compelled after this issue!

[rationaromanceblog]

Reflections: Folly in Love

I envied beautiful girls as a teenager believing I would never be one of them.  I am a wonderful person, I at least knew, and I resented that because I didn’t have external attractiveness no one would get a chance to find out. I was a little chubby with glasses and frizzy hair. I wasn’t told I was beautiful the way other girls were praised, and took that to mean the opposite.  I came to resent attractiveness. When I get to choose mates, I will not let their attractiveness get in the way of my ability to see how amazing they are. I will be above all levels of shallowness.  I decided. But I wasn’t expecting that of other people. So I  made it my mission to become attractive. I spent a lot of time and effort in my teens losing weight and trying to get rid of my curls in order to be more acceptable and hopefully given a chance. Thin beats fat. Straight beats curly. At age 17 I saw the conventions and followed them. Never bothering to question them.  I moved to Denver as a senior in high school and started to get attention because of my efforts. 

By then I had established the rule within myself that I was not going to let someone’s lack of conventional attractiveness stop me from dating them. But in doing so I  ignored the fact that I should be attracted to them in all other ways too. I liked Daniel only enough to enjoy his company as my friend. I hoped that was enough to catapult a romance. Unfortunately, it wasn't.

If dating is a game then winner gets the girl. It’s pretty simple.  To win the game you are the best possible selection. You become the cream of the crop and start to attract people towards you. So, what is the best?  And how do you become the cream of the crop? That part is fairly arbitrary and possibly random. But you at least know what you like. You know what traits and characteristics matter to you, so you go with that. You aim to get better at being a person in some form. Making more money? Being more attractive? Learning a skill? Becoming funnier? Sure, why not? Whatever your chosen tactic; Grow. Potential mates will become interested. Congratulations you are becoming attractive. Add kindness and confidence and you are almost irresistible. Don’t like this advice? Do what did cheat and take some shortcuts. 

There is a distinction between being a person that attracts and being physically attractive, although they are often the same. Attractive people will most likely attract people. Even horrible people (Take Ted Bundy for instance) will manage to pull people towards them (Although you could make the argument that Ted was charming too). The reason for that is is rooted in biology.  But luckily for conventionally unattractive people, attractiveness is greatly subjective. (Phew!) So even if you don’t consider someone physically attractive, if they aim to be the best and have confidence and self respect the lack of perceived physical attractiveness will not matter so much. You will also attract people who enjoy your physical aesthetic. And there will always be people that do.

The relationship between Daniel and I was full of shortcuts. We played the game through a non conventional  method. To play the game properly you have to become someone who attracts, and you simply have to choose those who you are attracted to. Neither of us did that.

The idea that I was not attracted to Daniel being different than Daniel was not attractive is a distinction I want to make not just to save face. But to say that there are more factors. I ignored being attracted to him because I hoped to be morally superior. But I knew I was forcing an attraction  and ignoring how I really felt. 

Dating Daniel also took the work of having to love myself and put it on him. It was my  job to create self esteem and love. But I hoped if he loved me enough, I didn’t need to. He showered me with affection and compliments, and when it didn’t work he blamed himself for not being able to show me my own loveliness. It was an impossible mission destined to fail, and an unhealthy one. I’ve never met a more determined person, however. He spent the year going to work. I think if I had let him, he would have spent the next decade working this angle. Just assuming it wasn’t successful because he wasn’t doing it right or enough time hadn’t passed. Rarely do we stop to question why we do the things we do. Especially that young. Daniel’s tactics were a way of short cutting the rules of the game.  

I could describe his tactics easily using the Nice Guy and Friend Zone terminology.  The reason we generally find these methods apprehensive and trite is because they use characteristics we perceive as positive: being supportive and kind and add motive. To get the girl the Nice Guy highlights themselves as “different”.  That inadvertently gets them around having to be the best. ‘I am the best by not being like the others.’ I heard this message plenty from Daniel. If I can cajole you into choosing me for what I can do for you then I can win the game by following my own set of rules. He made himself available to me and exemplified servitude would have no choice but to fall in love with him in his eyes.  I mostly felt indebted. The subtle difference being you support and are available to those you love because it feels good to, not as a means to an end. A Nice Guy will never admit that they are doing what they are doing out of a sheer desire for sex or romance. They might not even recognize it in themselves.

 The Friend Zone comes hand in hand with the Nice Guy. Its where the Nice Guys lives. It is the result of intention under the guise of friendship. I wasn’t oblivious to Daniel’s intentions. He owned that he liked me from the beginning. He used his devotion and friendship as a bargaining chip to date me, outright. So at least there was minimal deception. He made comments once he had established that he liked me that by choosing to stay friends I was putting him in the Friend Zone, and I would agree but say we both were making that choice. I wanted to pretend he didn’t like me so I could keep his friendship and he hoped his friendship was the key to getting me to like him.

Ultimately I am grateful for the experience. Daniel’s resolve strengthened my own.  Every time I wanted to leave he tested me in a way that forced me to come to my own side.  I was so full of ‘shoulds’. I should be attracted to him. I should be happy. Leaving Daniel earned me a level of self confidence because for the first time I had to fully own what I did and didn’t want, without his input.  It was a year long practice in understanding myself and having my own back. 

In a funny way Daniel also taught me how to be a great partner. He was so devoted. I knew that there was something very special in that. I hoped to cherish my partners the way he cherished me. He was a great example of what being a good partner looked like. By the end though, I didn’t care.  What I wanted more than anything was someone that I could love with intense passion. The way I never felt with Daniel. So I left in search of that. 

[knightofbalance-13]

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/166148145370/chibi-review-19-21

Please tell me he isn’t doing this crap for Volume 5.

1. I don’t even know what this was. Neptune was complaining that Yang wasn’t acting like a femme woman? I don’t get why we sympathize with Neptune here. Yang punching him was well-justified as there are no real female targets in marketing. You can have dancers, sporty girls, nerdy girls, or - Y’know, just watch the end of Nostalgia Critic’s Sharknado Review to understand why I don’t sympathize with Neptune here.

YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSE TO!

The punchline of the joke WAS Yang punching him! You weren’t suppose to sympathize with Neptune: Otherwise, Neptune would have won. But he didn’t and the joke was right there! You completely missed the joke!

You also forgot to describe what he was saying or what everyone;s reactions are so you even fail THERE!

And PS: Apparently you were too lazy to even give your own explanation.

2. I actually had to go back to rewatch this because it was obvious that Roman and Neo were just pulling a scam. Even if they were trying to go legit, they were failing so spectacularly at it to the point that it just wasn’t that funny.

Didn’t mention how they were spoofing commercials, didn’t describe any of their plans, didn’t eve describe the punchline!

Stop reviewing. You suck at it. It’s at the point I can’t give you anything to improve on because you fail to even DO the basics!

3. I already don’t have a high opinion of Jaune, so I’m not going to review this particular sketch because I will openly admit to not being able to do this professionally. Just know that I think that Jaune has a flimsy grasp on how TV works, and how the real world works. 

And yet you think you should do it else where because...why? You don’t get credit for admitting to something after doing it around fifty times.

1. Goddammit Neptune. You were one of the more likable male characters that actually had yet to do something uncool, and now you ran over a person? Be thankful that this isn’t canon, or that would have sent your likability levels down the drain… Screw it, I’m blaming Jaune for distracting him so that I can keep liking Neptune. It’s healthier for me.

Jesus fucking christ, I’ve seen Mr.Enter handle dark humor better than you. ANd he’s INFAMOUS for not being able to do so. Also, way to say you were gonna be professional do something completely unprofessional.  And finally: WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE SKIT! You described a second of it: That’s not enough to make any sort of evaluation!

2. Figures that this would happen. Gotta make the male gender the idiots huh? Well, actually, the idea of making the girls the ones who would use brute force to escape is actually fairly funny, and making the supposedly more competent males the ones in need of rescue is a nice subversion that should be done more often… But why couldn’t have they eaten Jaune before Yang had busted them out? Just kill the one character that’s the source of 85% of rwde’s anger. He’ll be back next episode. It’s episodic, who needs consistency?

Once againL: Doesn’t explain a single thing. DO YOUR WORK!

Also: there are more males than Qrow, Jaune, SUn and Neptune. Just because there is a series escalation in jokes doesn’t mean it’s sexist. Unlike you, who only liked this because it appeases your misandric ass.

. one: How did that not break Cinder’s heels? two: why is it that Jessica has more emotion here rather than in canon? three: I’m with Cinder on this one, this is idiotic. four: How did Roman get Emerald in on this? five: Neo’s ‘pointness‘ was stolen by the rimshot beowolf. six: why would a cannon help? - One of the characters survived TERMINAL VELOCITY! Not even survived it, she SHRUGGED IT OFF! seven: Why didn’t Cinder fire him earlier? Roman is clearly more incompetent in this world than in anything. eight: Can we just acknowledge that we’re probably getting a battle of the bands between the girls’ band, the boys’ band, and ‘trouble cleft’ at some point in the future? I feel as if that’s actually going to happen.

Rule Of FUnny. Once again, you do not take a joke. I’d give you credit for actually describing the set up...but you purposefully ignore the fact taht comedy doesn’t always follow logic and you fail to actually CRITIQUE it. SO no credit.

1. Remnant has Halloween apparently. And it also celebrates the same traditions we do… So many questions. So little actual jokes. It’s just Floyd the Gheist getting stabbed. One joke. And it’s a dark joke… There’s potential here, I can tell, but I don’t know what it is. If someone has an idea, leave it in the comments or something. I know that this can be improved, but I don’t know how exactly.

DOn’t even try pretending you’re doing criticism now: You failed a long time ago.

Also: It’s a fucking halloween special: They do this shit all teh fucking time. Stop nitpicxking because you are a control freak.

And no: The joke is that was trying to scare people but it backfired on him. You fail for the SEVENTH time.

2. I knew that Nora was making a love potion immediately. I mean, this is the chibified yandare Nora that makes her into a Ren-Obsessed psychopath. If it wasn’t a love potion, it would be a potion to turn Ren into a slave… Well, I just fueled about twenty fanfictions worth of some possible smut fiction… And to be honest, if they had had Pyrrha slip her head back in and ask if Nora could make some for her (for reasons) that would have been a better punchline than Ren being in the cauldron… Or alternatively, it would have added to it.

Took you eight tries but you finally managed to actually describe the entire joke...too bad you just mumbled a bit and moved on so no credit.

3. I looked it up. Lindsay’s birthday is actually September 6. I hope that Ruby’s birthday is actually canonically October 31. That would help out SO many fanfiction writers. And to be honest, I personally think that it would be funnier if Ruby gets to have a costume party every year. The whole “It’s my birthday” thing and making others give her candy feels… out of character for someone like Ruby. I get that it’s her sweet tooth that’s probably doing most of the talking, but the whole abusing it feels so… Not-Ruby. But hey. If they had just added the word “Rosebird” to her costume, that would have been an accurate representation of me.

Fucking comedy spin off. Learn to fucking think. Also, again, not enough description so no points!

The only thing i can say is: PUT EFFORT INTO IT! Reviewing is an extensive and hard art that takes a lot of thought and a lot of effort: Something you put NEITHER into here. Your failings are so epic that it would take an entire post just for you to start out at the level of a BEGINNER

0/9, you fail.

[illidria]

How about 25 for Olivier and a character of your choice. Please if you like. Thanks!!!

Here it is, finally done. Sorry for the long wait, I`ve got a lot of backlog at the moment. I decided to make it Olivier/Buccaneer, because hey, if you let me choose ;)

I really hope you like it :D

Captain Buccaneer loved few things.

Snow. His Automail. Olivier. But now he waslearning to truly love the joint training between Northern and Eastern forces.It combined everything he loved, added a bit of competition, better coffee and Olivierhell bent on not only winning, but destroying their competition. Her temper,always a strong factor, was through the roof then and temper and temptationgoing hand in hand, he could make everything funnier with just quipping theright things to her at the right time.

She saw throughthat, of course.

During a meeting in her bureau, him havingbrought up lunch for her and Miles, neither of them having turned up in themess that day, he presented his first glorious idea.

“The dummy-grenades in the packs of the easternersget exchanged for flash-bangs.”

He grinned widely, leaning against thecorner of the Generals desk, while the other two were eating. Olivier waslooking less than impressed, while Miles brows met right over his nose.

“Why would we do this?”

Inwardly damning Miles for always thinkingso logical, he made something up on the fly.

“Thoroughness when checking your gearbefore moving out. It`s a general rule that you should also check pre-packedbackpacks. It would be a good training, should an emergency ever arise in whichour gear could`ve been compromised.”

Miles would berate him later, for thisability to just come up with convincing reasons for things, without even makinga weird face. He looked like he meant it, had wanted to say such things allalong. He knew that his red-eyed friend thought it infuriating.

The worst thing though, would be thatOlivier was clearly thinking about it. Taking the possibility of doing it intoaccount. She just needed a little help.

“Just imagine the easterners throwing aflashbang, thinking it’s a dummy-grenade? The cubs would dispatch them so fast.”

Miles was looking from one to the otheropen-mouthed, Olivier looking down on her plate, deep in thought. Eyes snappingto his, fire in them, she billowed loudly.

“Do not. Tempt.Me!”

They were standing far enough away, observingthe shootouts. He could just speak, a little less loud than usual and they`dnot be heard by anyone. The joint training was going well, they were on theirway to winning yet again. Their advantage concerning the terrain extremelyprominent this year, snow higher than usual, winds more frigid.

“If we pinned a picture of his shadow tothe target, he wouldn’t shoot it, right?”

He did not have to look down to know thatshe was breathing deeply through her nose right now, trying to keep a straightface.

“Probably not. You never know with easternersthough.”

A little push and maybe temptation wouldfinally get the better of her, having resisted it so often already. Seven timesby now, not exchanging grenades, not turning off the heating, not even servingsmoked boar, the meat they had stored from wild males, too bitter to eat.

“Just think, Roy Mustang, laughing stock ofall. Missing a target in a row so often that even Grumman wouldn’t look happy.”

A soldier was walking past them and he sawthe effort she put into keeping it together. She turned to him, fixating himwith one look, making him feel several head smaller than he was. Lowly shespoke.

“Do not. Tempt. Me!”

They watched Mustang shoot, silently,showing a solid performance, but nothing more.

Buccaneer had one more try in him.

“And if we pinned a picture of him to hershooting-target?”

She snorted.

“Oh, she`d justshoot it.”

They`d won.

It hadn’t even been close. Out in the snowyfield they had played a “game” of capture the flag, only with tanks and hugesnowbanks and even a small avalanche. A nice touch from the research anddevelopment department. Tomorrow the easterners would be gone, the bears andcubs finally having their Wall to themselves again.

He knew Olivier was anxious to show themout, wanted “peace and quiet” again, meaning a drachman invasion and a patrolbeing followed by a bear. General Grumman was grating on her nerves, Mustangwas grating on her nerves and her brother, Major Armstrong, for whatever reasonarriving three days in, seemingly trampling on her nerves, too.

It had taken a while to find her, after alast dinner with everybody in the mess, many of the eastern soldiers headingfor North Cities bars, accompanied by many northern soldiers. The Generalsallowed for it, though for differing reasons and after most had gone, be itdrinking, or patrols, or bunks, she`d vanished.

He found her on the research level, thewarmest place in the wall, checking over the tanks. She was alone, eitherhaving scared everybody away or them being gone anyway, greatcoat thrown overthe side of one of the vehicles, hair up in a bun. She didn’t turn when heneared her, stayed as relaxed as she could be with so many foreign bodies inher fortress and when he snapped into a salute, her waving hand telling him to standat damn ease and be quick about it.

“What do you want, big guy?”

She turned, wiping the soot off her handson some rag, leaning against one of the tanks.

Another harebrained idea formed inside ofhis mind.

“Just wanting to find out if I can help youwith relaxation, Sir!”

Her eyebrows nearly vanished in herhairline, but she seemingly couldn’t help the wicked smile pulling on her lips.

“You`re crazy.”

“We are all alone here, Olivier. Alone withthe tank that very nearly brought Roy Mustang to tears.”

A chuckle escaped her, pushing herself upto sit on one of the tanks.

“Haven’t I told you several times, that youshould not tempt me?”

He took the liberty to step between herlegs, letting his hands come to rest against her thighs.

Stern she looked at him.

“Do not. Tempt. Me!”

He did so anyways.

[alyssawritesalot]

Just a Smile - Part Two

FF.NET

SUMMARY: In Hyrule palace, there was one rule left over from the time of her great-grandfather, one that most certainly could not be broken: the guards on duty were not allowed to laugh.

But that never stopped Princess Zelda from trying. Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Zelink AU where Zelda is a princess and Link is a guard who she’s trying to make laugh but can’t seem to crack. Part two of a larger fic of similar short bursts. Not attached to any particular game. Fluff af. 

““Just admit it, Link. You’re taken with the Princess!”

It was true. Link was taken with the Princess. Absolutely besotted, in fact. She was clever and beautiful and lighthearted, and if that wasn’t enough, she spread joy everywhere she went. There wasn’t a person under the King’s service in the castle that didn’t adore her, and he much looked forward to the time she spent in his presence.

It was the only time he’d ever get, after all.”

Writing after the cut!

At times, it seemed to Link Cearneigh, Member of the Hylian Royal Guard, that he would never have peace.

A single step through the door of barrack confirmed this thought.

“You’ve done it this time, Cearneigh,” said Abernathy, his partner in rotation.

Link gave his comrade a dirty look, unclipping his gauntlets one by one as he made his way over to his bed. “I can’t say I know what you’re talking about.”

That was, of course, a lie. Every man in his regiment--and probably several from regiments beyond--knew and were much entertained by the way the Princess gave him her particular attentions. Much like the Princess’ incessant attempts to make him smile, he was given no respite from their teasing.  But, much like the Princess, Link wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing just how much they affected him.

Though he made no move from his bunk, Archer, bless him, came to Link’s aid. “Give it a rest, Abernathy.”

Abernathy, however, was most certainly not going to give it a rest. “I don’t get it,” he continued, “The answer is easy. You just smile, give her the satisfaction, and she’ll leave you alone.”

From his top bunk, Beylin leaned down, guffawing. ”Have you ever considered that Cearneigh doesn’t want her to leave him alone?”

Smacking his head aside, Link sat down on his bed below Beylin’s, beginning to remove his boots. “I only do my job.” he said. He only hoped that his ears weren’t as red as they felt.

“If you wanted to get on with your job, you’d let her move on from you,” said Abernathy.

“I’m no so weak that I need to break the law to be able to do my job,” he replied. “How long did it take for you to cave? A day?”

“Two,” snorted Archer.

“Grounds for dismissal, I think,” Link said gravely.

Abernathy gave him a rather rude hand gesture in response. Link balled up his socks and pegged it towards his face.

Beylin wouldn’t give up as easily as that, though. “Just admit it, Link. You’re taken with the Princess!”

It was true. Link was taken with the Princess. Absolutely besotted, in fact. She was clever and beautiful and lighthearted, and if that wasn’t enough, she spread joy everywhere she went. There wasn’t a person under the King’s service in the castle that didn’t adore her, and he much looked forward to the time she spent in his presence.

It was the only time he’d ever get, after all.

“You’ve caught me, Bey,” Link rolled his eyes as he hung up his coat and sheath on the pegs by his bunk. “A noble, wealthy lad such as myself is always in search of an eligible woman to be his wife. Only the best will do. How many diamonds should I have on her engagement ring before I propose?”

The boys burst out laughing, a welcome sound after a long day of stoicism.

“She’ll give up on you before long,” said Archer, meaning to be reassuring. “There’s a new round of cadets coming in next week. There’s no way she’ll be able to resist.”

The thought of that was rather disheartening. He’d just have to wait and see.

“I’ve got to get through tomorrow first,” he said to his friend,  pulling his pajamas out from his trunk.

And, just to be safe, he peeked down the legs of his trousers before putting them on.

xxxx

If Link thought that he was going to have a quiet shift the next morning, he was sorely mistaken. Not an hour into his rotation in the East Wing, the King and the Princess walked by. And, by some horrible shred of luck, the King had business with him today.

“Soldier Cearneigh,” the King called as he walked to stand before him, offering a nod in greeting. “How fares the day?”

Princess Zelda, after glancing either way to ensure no one else was looking, moved to follow him. She threw her shoulders back and puffed out her cheeks, resting her hands on her hips as she mimicked her father’s gait.

Goddesses. In front of the King? Had she no shame?

Though he was absolutely mortified at the idea of breaking before the most powerful man in the kingdom, the challenge made him all the more determined. If the Princess wished to throw the gauntlet, he’d pick it up and toss it right back.

“Unremarkable, your Majesty,” Link replied, his jaw clenching. He met the King’s gaze, trying very hard not to pay attention to what was going on behind him.

“Just as I like to hear it. Now, you’ll forgive me for distracting you from your work, but I’ve heard the most remarkable thing from my brother, General Gusaf…”

He gave his best effort to pay attention to the King. Truly, he did. But the Princess behind him was being so ridiculous that there was no way he could prevent himself from following her antics.

His lip twitched, and he bit down on it.

“...and you were able to make the best of three other men? Is he correct in his retelling?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” he managed.

“Truly astounding! How I’d love to be present for such a feat of skill…”

With a glint in her eye, the Princess continued to mock her father, mimicking his lofty hand gestures just an inch behind him. A moment later, however, she reached into her sleeve and pulled something out, pressing it to her face with a barely concealed giggle.

A mustache. A mustache that was exactly like the King’s. She wiggled her mouth, and the horrible, horrible thing quavered just the same way as it would atop her father’s lip. If her impersonation was ridiculous before, it was absolutely hilarious now. Mirth rose in his chest, but he fiercely pushed it down.

He would not be bested by her!

Strained, he exhaled through his nose. His grip grew tight on his spear as he trained his eyes once again on the King’s face, calling upon every ounce of discipline and self-control that years of training had cultivated. He would not smile. He would not laugh. He would come out the victor in this exchange, if it were the last thing he ever did.

“...and there is the matter of the position that Captain Elward left, what with his injury…”

There was no focus in the world, however, that would prevent him from seeing the cushion slip from the Princess’ hand and onto the floor just behind the King.  

Cold dread filled his heart.

Goddesses, she wouldn’t. Would she? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that, if the King stepped on that cushion, there was a very good chance that he would crumble.

“Papa?” the Princess quickly removed her mustache before her father turned, giving him her sweetest smile. “Would I be able to come to this show of skill that you propose?”

Her intention was to lure him onto the blasted cushion, but the King only turned his head. This gave Link the opportunity to reach out with his leg, tenderly using his foot to drag it out of danger.

No such luck. The pressure of the situation made him less than delicate, and he winced as the cushion emitted a most unflattering noise. The King paused mid-sentence in his response to his daughter to glance back at Link, who closed his eyes, exhaling heavily.

“Pardon me, your Majesty,” he said.

The look on Princess Zelda’s face when he met her eyes was perhaps funnier than all her previous antics combined.

“Yes, dearest, of course you may come,” said the King, “But only after I have someone speak to the cook about what they’re feeding our soldiers.” He guffawed, clasping Link on the shoulder. “Now, come along. We have other matters to attend to. Until then, Soldier.”

Link bowed his head to the King, keeping his eyes low so he wouldn’t have to watch the stunned--and outsmarted--Princess follow bewildered after her father.

Then, when he was certain they were out of earshot, Link bent over at the middle and wheezed.