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sunflowerdarlingx · 4 years

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Fred Weasley - “I need you” 2

Hi I hope everyone is okay!

This is part two of my previous Fred imagine. Part one!

Please let me know what you think, part 3 is coming and will be filled with smut.

Female Reader

Warnings: talk of sex but only a few sentences. Minors DNI

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Three weeks and four days, that’s how long it had been since the war ended. The first few days were spent together, locked away from the rest of the world. Y/N’s parents visited the burrow every day for the first two weeks, now they were back to writing to each other regularly.

Every night, Fred and Y/N would sit outside together under the stars, they had been working on building their relationship. Each night held new conversations about their relationships, discussing old memories, worries, solutions and even planning their future. Fred has always put his maximum effort into everything he does and fixing their relationship was no different.

The time came about a week and a half after the war where Fred introduced date nights, they would happen every Thursday and at least one other night a week. He said having one night dedicated to them every week would make sure that they would have time to talk, no matter what was going on or how busy life got.

Every date he planned was planned with care, he recreated some of their first dates from school, he always made sure they would talk about their feelings like worries and fear (the two main factors in the downfall of their previous relationship) and Fred was not going to let it happen again.

Fred and George decided that they were going to move back to their flat, they wouldn’t open the shop for another while, but they needed to get back to their own space. They wanted to plan a grand re-opening for when things returned to, well, normal. The first night back at the flat Fred had asked Y/N to be ‘officially’ his again and of course Y/N couldn’t say no. She could see how hard Fred was trying, from his creative date nights, to the little notes left around the burrow reminding her of how much he loved her, from the constant cuddles and soft kisses to photos of all their favourite times together popping up around the house.

These cute reminders never stopped when they moved back to the flat, Y/N realised Fred needed the reminders too, so she started doing the same, writing little notes on the mirror just before Fred got out of the shower, or waking up early enough to make him breakfast before he went to the shop to work on some new products with George.

Each morning Fred woke up, he couldn’t be more thankful, his family were safe, and he finally had the girl he loved back in his arms.

It had now been six weeks since the end of the war and Fred and George were working towards their re-opening. Every morning Fred and Y/N would usually wake up together, Y/N making breakfast whilst Fred got ready, but on this particular morning Fred was the only one up, deciding to let Y/N sleep, he grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote her a little note.

Morning cutie,

I’m down in the shop with George, you looked so beautiful sleeping I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.

I’ve asked George to let us have the flat tonight, so he is going to go and stay with mum and everyone at the burrow. I thought we could cook dinner together, like we use to when we were at home during the summer, only if you are up for it of course. If not, we can go out or order in – your choice.

Come and see me when you wake up, I missed getting my good morning kiss and our usual breakfast date :( and you can let me know what you think about tonight ;)

I love you,

Oh, and there is a little croissant in the kitchen with your name on it <3

Freddie x

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she read Fred’s note, pulling herself out of bed, she had her breakfast made her way down to the shop. She walked into the storeroom and was greeted by a smiling Fred, “where's George?”.

“Away out with Ange, you just missed him babe”, Y/N made her way over to Fred and he pulled her down into his lap. Y/N buried her head in his neck, Fred placed a few kisses on the side of her head before clearing his throat “So, what do you think about tonight?”, he could feel Y/N smile into his neck, “I think we should cook; it's been a while since we’ve done it together. When you’re all done here, we can go to the shops, sound good?”, “Sounds perfect love, I just need to finish this paperwork and then we can go. I might need you to help me with the muggle money, I still don’t understand it.” this caused Y/N to let out a giggle.

Y/N kissed him quickly before heading to the door “I better go get ready then...and I’ll make sure I’ve got the right purse” with a wink she was off back to the apartment.

As she was stood having a quick shower, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander, as happy as she was with her relationship, she missed the intimate nights her and Fred had. She couldn’t give herself the same pleasure as Fred did. It hadn’t been something they discussed, Fred was worried that Y/N would get the wrong idea about them getting back together and well, Y/N’s insecurity of not being good enough resurfaced. It was all she could think about as she got ready, the long nights of passion, the quick rushed fun during the day or the countless times they were interrupted at the burrow by the fear of getting caught.

Deciding tonight was going to be the night to take their relationship that one step forward in getting back to normality, Y/N decided she would slip away whilst shopping to find herself a new lingerie set. Once dressed she made her way back downstairs, greeted by Fred who then apparated them to a small alley in London.

Fred decided he wanted pasta, so they made their way around the market getting all the ingredients they needed. “I have an idea Freddie” they were walking hand in hand down a cobble path towards the fruit and veg stalls, “oh yea?” he questioned as he tugged her towards him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Why don’t we dress up for date night? Something fancy” Y/N stares up at him through her big doe eyes, “we can both go look for something new and then grab a bottle of wine before going back home”. Fred is captured by her beauty, the way her eyes beam in the sun, “if that’s what you want love then, that’s what we will do. Will you help me pay though?”, Y/N lets out a little snort as she laughs and Fred chuckles too. “Dork” he teases as Y/N whacks his arm.

Y/N is able to convince Fred to wait outside whilst she shops, grabbing a few different underwear sets and a plain black dress she makes her way to the changing room. After trying it all on she decides on a nice matching red lace set, keeping it simple and a beautiful black dress that highlights all the right places on her body. She pays quickly and meets Fred outside.

He is stood writing in his little book, he looks up briefly and spots Y/N, “Godric you took your time, did you buy the whole shop?” Y/N giggles and shakes her head “guess you’ll find out when we are home” she winks, Fred reaches for the bag to take a peek and Y/N throws it in her bag. “Good luck trying to find that with muggles around”, Fred groans as they make their way into the next shop. Once they’ve gotten Fred a new shirt and jeans, they grab a bottle of wine and head home.

Whilst Y/N gets ready, Fred cleans the flat and sets the table, he heads into Diagon Ally and gets a beautiful bunch of sunflowers for the table. Y/N looks gorgeous, her hair falls beautifully down her back and her make up is done just the way she likes it, she radiated confidence and once she had her dress on, she looked incredible. Fred came into the room just as Y/N was putting on lipstick and his jaw practically hit the floor.

“Wow...” Y/N turned in her seat and Fred couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over her body, she looked breathtakingly beautiful, “baby you look...wow” Y/N couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. She stood up walking towards him, “is it too much?” she asked worriedly, giving him a 360 turn.

“You’re perfect”, Freds grin was stretched from ear to ear “I’m just quickly going to shower... don’t go anywhere, don’t need anyone stealing you off me...I’ll be right back just...just stay right here” he rushed around the room grabbing everything he needed, tripping over his bed and his own feet due to the fact he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Y/N chuckles and finishes getting ready, spraying some perfume and putting on some earrings and her necklace.

She stands in front of the mirror, pleased with her work, when something catches her eye. In a small tray beside Freds mirror was the ring he gave her all those years ago, the tray was covered in dust, but the ring shone beautifully. Y/N picked it up, holding it between her thumb and pointer finger, twirling it slightly before placing it back on her finger, it felt right having it on after all this time. She heard the shower stop and looked down to her hand, I wonder if he will notice. Deciding to keep it on she took her seat on the bed again.

Fred came booming out, his towel wrapped around his waist, just below his V-line, the sight causing Y/N to heat up slightly. Of course, she had seen Fred like this since they got back together, and the sight was one she always enjoyed but tonight it filled her with a need so strong that she would have dropped her knickers there and then if Fred asked her too.

“Careful love, you’re drooling” Fred winked at her as he got dressed. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “you wish Freddie”, Fred could only smirk at the small blush that painted her skin.

Fred recognised the look in her eye, there was a point in time where he knew her better that she knew herself, he was glad that he could still tell every little thing about her from her actions. He could see the neediness, but he wouldn’t tell her that, he wanted her to make the first move and god was he praying she would make it tonight.

Once Fred was dressed, they made their way to the kitchen and started to cook together. Jokes were being cracked left, right and centre whilst they cooked, Y/N noticed Fred was being a lot more touchy than normal and she was loving it, it was like having the old Fred back. He would insist on wrapping his hands around her waist to make sure she was chopping the vegetables right or holding his hand around hers whilst she stirred the pasta.

She decided to use this to her advantage, to see if she could get Fred all hot and bothered like she used to. Every time he wrapped his arms around her from behind, she made sure to push her arse back just a little bit more, she would make sure to run her hand down his arm when grabbing something close to him, ‘accidentally’ dropping things in front of Fred so she could bend over to get them – her arse being his point of view each and every time.

Fred caught on pretty early but was enjoying the show he was getting so just let it play out, although he was thankful when Y/N announced their meal was ready because all of her teasing was making his jeans uncomfortably tight.

They sat down at the table with Fred at the end and Y/N to the side so they could talk better. “Oh shoot, we forgot the wine” Y/N stood up to get it, but Fred took her hand guiding her back down, “it’s okay love, I’ll get it”. As Fred returned from the kitchen, he realised how obvious his not so little problem was, he tried to readjust but it made no difference. He stood pouring the wine and Y/N couldn’t help but smirk down at her plate.

“Thank you, Freddie,” she smiled as he sat down, raising her glass to cheers once he was seated. Freds eyes were immediately drawn to her ring finger and the silver band that wrapped around it, he raised his glass to hers, a grin taking over his features before he took a sip of his wine. He took her hand in his once she put her glass down and started to play with the ring on her finger “you’ve got my ring on”.

“Your ring?” she asks playfully “I thought it was mine” she winks. Fred pulls her in for a quick kiss, “it’s ours” he kisses her again before kissing her hand and placing it back down on the table. “Now let's eat”, they dig in and talk the night away.

They’re sitting at the table with Y/N in Freds lap as they drink their wine, “so...I was thinking Freddie” Freds hand is tracing circles on her thigh and his eyes look up at her “it’s been a while since we...you know...had our fun” she internally slaps herself at her choice of words “and well...I was thinking that maybe, you know, since we have the flat to ourselves that we could...well you know”, Fred can’t help but smile down at his adorably nervous girlfriend.

He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek “I’m sorry love but I have no idea what you mean” he teases “what is ‘our fun’?’” he feigns confusion.

Y/N pouts up at him and his mocking tone, she knows it’s all in good fun, but she can't help her nerves...and her neediness. Pull yourself together. She turns in Freds lap, so she straddles him, her arms wrapping around his neck whilst she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Well Freddie, I thought you were quite familiar with ‘our fun’” she mocks his tone at the last part. “You were very familiar with it at school, we did it practically everywhere” she pauses and kisses him before leaning towards his ear “it usually started with me having a mouth full of your cock before being bent over while you fucked me from behind”.

A small groan left Freds mouth at her word, his hands gripping her waist, “but … I suppose if you don’t remember Freddie, I’ll just have to have the fun myself” and with that Y/N was up and moving towards the door to their bedroom. Fred took all of five seconds to compose himself before running up behind her and throwing her over his shoulder taking her into their room.

Part 3 (18+)

#Fred weasley imagine #Fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut

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fresh-prince-of-denmark · 4 years

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Literary References in The Sun: The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (Pt 3)

CYBERPUNK ENDING SPOILERS AHEAD

If you haven’t read my other two literary analysis pieces please read the analysis of V’s Mikoshi poem here and Johnny’s Mikoshi poem here! This one is a real doosey though. In fact, I think it might even allude to either future DLC or imply the reason V decides to got to the Crystal Palace in the end.

As I play through all the endings, I’ve been on the lookout for all pieces of literature scattered around the world. I found this one downstairs in V’s apartment after (Don’t Fear) the Reaper (hardest level in a video game in my humble opinion, yikes), but I assume it’s the same in any iteration of The Sun’s ending. It comes from the first chapter in The Marriage Between Heaven and Hell called The Argument. If you’ve read my thoughts on V’s poem, this should set off some alarm bells (remember the line “like a tedious argument?).

A bit of a background on out author, William Blake, should also set off some alarm bells. TRUST ME, this is important! I straight up lost my mind when I saw this. William Blake was, as Johnny would say, a true rebel. He challenged a lot of the ideas of organized religion through his art and poetry, such as the simple idea that good people go to heaven and bad people go to hell. Who’s ideas was he responding to exactly? Swedenborg’s. Emmanuel Swedenborg. AKA our mysterious crank philosopher in the side quest Happy Trails, who Johnny complains and disagrees with throughout the entire quest. Blake disagreed that the line between good and evil is clear, and that as humans we can be both good and evil. This really strikes me as such a Johnny poem to pick. After all, Johnny’s an asshole. But his reasoning for his art, his belief system, was noble. Even if he is a dick. Let’s move on to the poem:

Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air;

Hungry clouds swag on the deep.

Once meek, and in a perilous path,

The just man kept his course along

The vale of death.

Roses are planted where thorns grow,

And on the barren heath

Sing the honey bees.

Then the perilous path was planted:

And a river and a spring

On every cliff and tomb;

And on the bleached bones

Red clay brought forth.

Till the villain left the paths of ease,

To walk in perilous paths, and drive

The just man into barren climes.

Now the sneaking serpent walks

In mild humility,

And the just man rages in the wilds

Where lions roam.

Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air;

Hungry clouds swag on the deep.

So what’s this all about? Rintrah is our main character, meant to personify the righteous anger of a true prophet, walking toward “the vale of death,” a seemingly more painful yet beautiful path to walk. Opposed to him is the “villain”, someone who leaves “the path of ease,” to walk a more difficult path to join our protagonist to “rage in the wilds.” This poem colludes with the passage:

“Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.

From these contraries spring what the religious call Good and Evil. Good is the passive that obeys reason; Evil is the active springing from Energy. Good is heaven. Evil is hell.”

What is this saying? We all have both good and evil within us, and that’s actually a positive thing. One cannot progress without these contradictions. Being good means to passively obey, while being evil means being active with energy.

Without going too far into the book (we’d be here all day, it’s so long and hard to read. Blake is super interesting but such a blowhard), there’s some other ideas that are interesting in contrast with the story of Cyberpunk. Blake asserts several new ideas in his next chapter, The Voice of the Devil. In this section, the speaker calls the Bible out on contradictory statements; such as the idea that the body and soul are separate, and that The Energy called Evil comes from the body, while The Reason called Good comes from the Soul. Blake argues that the body and soul are one; Energy (Evil) are life, and Reason (good) are what surrounds it. Real complicated way to say that good and evil are no so easily defined. Blake praises Milton’s Paradise Lost in for showing that resisting temptation does not make one strong, and that by giving into desire Milton’s hero is righteous. Who is the hero of Paradise Lost you may ask? Satan. Hmmmm...

The next sections promote the idea of giving into temptation; standing for creativity, art, and fighting against repression. He describes giants who formed the earth, the Prolific (who stand for art, and temptation) and the Devouring (the meek, oppressed and obedient). They are at constant war with one another. This comes right back to our “tedious argument” in V’s poem: the little people, like V, are the Devouring. They don’t have time to disobey, to rise up against oppression. Conformity, whether it’s doing sketchy jobs for fixers or working for Arakaka, is rewarded with survival, often at the cost of one’s soul. It is the easy, the meek, path. Johnny hopes to stand for the Prolific, questioning the status quo, walking the rebel path, using art to “shake the world awake.” Johnny also represents this in the way he gives into temptation, whether that be drugs or his impulsiveness in general. Another interesting thing this brings up is the whole Heaven/Hell/Life/Mikoshi dichotomy. V questions if Mikoshi is “the light of heaven, or the fire of hell.” This loops back to Johnny’s poem again: what is immortality? What does it mean to be alive? According to Blake, the line between heaven and hell aren’t so black and white either, and in fact hell might not be so bad. Why would the Devil punish the true rebels? So which of V’s paths truly chooses life? To walk toward the unknown, or to live in a withering body, one that will one day decay, sooner or later, whether V or Johnny returns to it. Huh. Maybe the Blackwall isn’t so bad. And much like Blake, Johnny doesn’t seem to afraid of Blackwall/Hell. Scared to push V toward the unknown, sure. But at least appearing unafraid, since much like Blake, he’s already faced it once.

So what does this mean for our ending, and for possible future DLC? Is this meant to be the true ending, despite popular (and my personal belief) that The Star seems to be the happiest ending? Why does V go to the crystal palace? Are they continuing to play Night City’s game, where one either “becomes an asshole or is killed by one” (according to Judy)? Or are they the “villain”, leaving their previous path of the meek to join Rintrah/Johnny and rage in the wilds? This game does a lot of work to pit the idea of art vs conformity, survival of the body vs the soul, and for that reason I hope this is saying something about The Sun ending: we’re going to find Johnny. Either in a metaphorical sense, connecting to his legacy…or maybe in a physical sense?

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readerbookclub · 3 years

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One Year Later, May’s Booklist

Hurray! It’s been a year since the book club first started. Time really does fly. And why not celebrate this birthday by looking back on some of the books we’ve read together? This month’s book list is made up of novels by author’s whose works we read throughout the past year. Let’s revisit some old favourites, shall we?

In May 2020, when the world felt like it was going to end and so many of us had more time than we could spend, this book club read its first book. Neil Gaiman’s, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, kept us occupied during that frightening time. So our first pick for this list is:

Stardust, by Neil Gaiman:

Life moves at a leisurely pace in the tiny town of Wall—named after the imposing stone barrier which separates the town from a grassy meadow. Here, young Tristran Thorn has lost his heart to the beautiful Victoria Forester and for the coveted prize of her hand, Tristran vows to retrieve a fallen star and deliver it to his beloved. It is an oath that sends him over the ancient wall and into a world that is dangerous and strange beyond imagining...

June was when many of our members first joined us (hey Ann, hey Rey, hey Lani! love ya!). Together we read The Starless Sea, a book that enchanted some, and frustrated others. Now we take a look at Morgenstern’s other novel:

The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern:

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night. But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway—a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them, this is a game in which only one can be left standing, and the circus is but the stage for a remarkable battle of imagination and will. Despite themselves, however, Celia and Marco tumble headfirst into love—a deep, magical love that makes the lights flicker and the room grow warm whenever they so much as brush hands. True love or not, the game must play out, and the fates of everyone involved, from the cast of extraordinary circus performers to the patrons, hang in the balance, suspended as precariously as the daring acrobats overhead.

In August, when many of us still couldn’t leave our houses, we read A Gentleman in Moscow and met Count Alexander, a man under house arrest. He taught us a lot about finding beauty and purpose, even when everything seems hopeless. In this list, we take another trip into the wonderful imagination of Amor Towles:

Rules of Civility, by Amor Towles:

On the last night of 1937, twenty-five-year-old Katey Kontent is in a second-rate Greenwich Village jazz bar with her boardinghouse roommate stretching three dollars as far as it will go when Tinker Grey, a handsome banker with royal blue eyes and a tempered smile, happens to sit at the neighboring table. This chance encounter and its startling consequences propel Katey on a yearlong journey from a Wall Street secretarial pool toward the upper echelons of New York society and the executive suites of Condé Nast—rarefied environs where she will have little to rely upon other than a bracing wit and her own brand of cool nerve. Wooed in turn by a shy, principled multi-millionaire, and an irrepressible Upper East Side ne'er-do-well, befriended by a single-minded widow who is ahead of her time, and challenged by an imperious mentor, Katey experiences firsthand the poise secured by wealth and station and the failed aspirations that reside just below the surface. Even as she waits for circumstances to bring Tinker back into her life, she begins to realize how our most promising choices inevitably lay the groundwork for our regrets.

In November, while I was procrastinating studying for my entrance exam, we embarked on a whirlwind journey that unfolded over twenty years. Journey Under the Midnight Sun was a story that started with one murder, then spiralled into a world of crime and deception. Now we take a lot at another one of Higashino’s novels:

The Miracles of the Namiya General Store, by Keigo Higashino:

When three delinquents hole up in an abandoned general store after their most recent robbery, to their great surprise, a letter drops through the mail slot in the store's shutter. This seemingly simple request for advice sets the trio on a journey of discovery as, over the course of a single night, they step into the role of the kindhearted former shopkeeper who devoted his waning years to offering thoughtful counsel to his correspondents. Through the lens of time, they share insight with those seeking guidance, and by morning, none of their lives will ever be the same.

In February, we read This is How You Lose the Time War, a book that led to our most lively and active discussion yet. It was then we welcomed many new voices into our book club, and we’re very happy to have them. Whether you loved the novel or just felt confused, I think we can all agree that it was something unique and different. Now, we take a look at another of Gladstone’s sci-fi books:

Empress of Forever, by Max Gladstone

A wildly successful innovator to rival Steve Jobs or Elon Musk, Vivian Liao is prone to radical thinking, quick decision-making, and reckless action. On the eve of her greatest achievement, she tries to outrun people who are trying to steal her success. In the chilly darkness of a Boston server farm, Viv sets her ultimate plan into motion. A terrifying instant later, Vivian Liao is catapulted through space and time to a far future where she confronts a destiny stranger and more deadly than she could ever imagine. The end of time is ruled by an ancient, powerful Empress who blesses or blasts entire planets with a single thought. Rebellion is literally impossible to consider--until Vivian Liao arrives. Trapped between the Pride―a ravening horde of sentient machines―and a fanatical sect of warrior monks who call themselves the Mirrorfaith, Viv must rally a strange group of allies to confront the Empress and find a way back to the world and life she left behind.

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#book club #book list #booklr #stardust #neil gaiman #the night circus #erin morgenstern #rules of civility #amor towles #the miracles of the namiya general store #keigo higashino #empress of forever #max gladstone

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strawberry1212 · 4 years

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Kdrama Sexist/Toxic Male Lead Tropes

(originally made this post as part of another post about Run On but it got to be so long I just thought I’d made this list it’s own post)

-Possessive and easily jealous, and this is often played off as romantic. For a large portion of kdrama watchers who are younger, and for the majority of us who aren’t chased all the time by hot men, this toxic trait can easily be sold to us as an exciting and flattering trait. But this is in fact not respectful of the female lead’s autonomy. I enjoy the little humorous jealousy moments, (I am reminded of Crash Landing on You) but too often this leads to the classic “two male leads each grab the innocently wide eyed female lead and glare at each other” trope. Women are not ropes to play tug of war with! If jealousy over the instances like the girl simply having a conversation with another guy rupture into real problems in the relationship it is not romantic, but possessiveness is often mistakenly portrayed as an expression of love, when really possessiveness is just that: possessiveness over an object.

-Uses violence to solve problems. This is another thing that can be easily seen as flattering--someone is willing to go to great lengths to protect you/defend your honor/whatever the reason is for the male lead to use violence. This trope was deconstructed in the American movie 500 Days of Summer, where the male lead punches a guy “to defend the honor” of the female lead, but she when she is upset and embarrassed at the situation, he gets angry at her for not being excited over his violent sacrifice.

-The typical “tsundere” narrative of abusive language, but paired with romantic gestures, usually the Grand Romantic Gesture trope. I see this all the time, where the guy berates the girl, sometimes to point of just full on bullying, but then he throws his jacket at her when she’s cold, holds the umbrella over her while he gets wet, etc., In other words he may be verbally abusive but it doesn’t matter because he Truly Loves her. And that she should accept that and understand that about him and not expect him to be polite and respectful.

-He treats everyone but the female lead like trash. Well...he often treats the female lead like trash at first too, but this quality is also marketed as flattering. He treats everyone badly but you’re different! In reality this is super toxic. In fact, it is essential that a person treats *everyone* with decency if they are to meet the baseline requirements of being a person capable of giving and receiving love in a healthy relationship.

-He chases her one sidedly. Oftentimes he chases her even when she rejects him, which shows that dominating, male persistence is a behavior to be rewarded. Again, this is a fantasy easily marketable when many of us aren’t chased around by hot men. It is flattering for a person to be so interested in us that they are incredibly persistent, but this fantasy had very unhealthy, and even harmful real life connotations. There is a very important line between friendliness/respectful attention/flirting, and creepy and domineering. I think it is also equally important to note that in this toxic trope, it is important to teach both men and women that no means no and yes means yes. Not that you can’t have playful/teasing banter, but playing hard to get when you really want to be gotten, is an unhealthy coping mechanism for cowardice in relationships.

I think for this one as with other tropes on this list, it appeals to our childish, insecure, and relationship-immature side of ourselves that would rather have everything fall into place than be honest, vulnerable, and have agency in our romantic interactions. What I mean is, the fantasy of a hot male lead persistently pursuing us after a destiny meet cute is a fantasy where we don’t ever have to put ourselves out there. Where don’t have to consciously try to meet new people, express interest in others, set boundaries, i.e. do the hard work of negotiating our place within other people’s lives.

The hallmark of a bad drama for me is when the give and take between the male and female lead is: the female lead has to put up with the meanness and constant mistakes of the male lead as he hurts her (usually in tangent with the Noble Idiocy trope, where he breaks up with her and steps all over her “for her own good” for some bs reason), but in return she gets the Grand Romantic Gesture, and the male lead does most of the chasing. In a healthy relationship, there aren’t constant hurtful arguments, and both do an equal share of the “chasing,” or a better term would be meeting each other halfway in expressing interest in the other.

-Power imbalance. It really disturbs me how Kdramas fetishize power imbalances between male and female characters to create the helpless/incompetent/somehow indebted but also plucky/cheerful/abuse-taking female lead. This can manifest itself very overtly in the many Kdramas between CEOs and secretaries, which I still cannot believe are popular in 2021. Secretary Kim did a better spin on the usual trope--the secretary holds the power of being very good at her job, and therefore indispensable and respected in her own right, but it remains a mystery to me why these super narcissistic and childish CEOs are played off as “adorable manchilds” that always need a little soothing of their ego. But to return to the power imbalance, besides obvious power imbalances of wealth/power/etc., oftentimes the guy has supernatural powers, or by nature of his job has abilities that render him the “protector” in the relationship (My love from another star, descendants of the sun), or the girl is infantilized in some way to need to protection from the male lead (legend of the blue sea, she is a mermaid and therefore dependent on the male lead for guidance in the human world, bring it on ghost as well). I think these latter power imbalances are constructed into the setting of the story because more overt forms of power imbalances are frowned upon now, but they serve the same patriarchal purpose.

This power imbalance inevitably leads to the female lead putting up with some abuse from the male lead because she “needs” him for some other end, and him holding his power over as a way to keep her close. It fits very well into the enemies to lovers trope in this way, especially some contractual enemies to lovers, where due to the power imbalance he is able to exploit/use her in some way, and keeps her close, and she hates him but has to put up with it for her own survival in some way, but they slowly fall in love. It’s super toxic and not at all romantic because they didn’t choose each other at all, they just were pushed together by circumstance, but again it buys into our fantasy of falling in love due to circumstance, rather than our own agency.

-Overly protective (OP) vs respectfully supportive. (RS) Essentially I can divide Kdramas into these two categories, OP and RS. OP romances can commonly be found in love triangles (where jealousy flourishes) and high school romances (where characters usually have less of a personality lol), and RS relationships are more common in working adult romances, where each character is pursuing their career/dreams and they support each other in those dreams. OP relationships infantilize the female character, render her as just an object in need of saving, and power dynamic between the leads is usually he constantly needs to save her, and in return she “softens”/“heals” him which, under deeper analysis, reveals itself to be quite an insidious and harmful stereotype, the kind of psychology that keeps women in domestic violence relationships. RS relationships are also better in that the leads have something going on outside of their romance, and are motivated beyond just ending up together. My favorite of RS relationships are Miss Hammurabi (two judges that work together to confront injustices in the judicial system), Run On (two leads from v different career fields, but they take interest and support each other throughout career ups and downs), and Hello My Twenties (probably my favorite example of an RS male lead--Sungmin supports Song as she uncovers her past traumas and stands up to an abuser, but does so following her lead and not doing her work for her, but rather simply staying by her side supportively).

Conclusion

This is not all the toxicity in the kdrama world--this is just what I can come up with off the top of my head as my least favorite tropes that disempower women and glorify toxic men and toxic relationships. And of course this is not a problem unique to Korea, and is by no means a condemnation of Korean culture, etc., but I simply happen to enjoy the aesthetics and innocence (compared to American shows haha) of Kdramas, so that is the entertainment world I am familiar with, and feel able to comment on.

#miss hammurabi #run on kdrama #jtbc run on #hello my twenties #feminism #kdrama #kdramas

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hiddenhistoria · 4 years

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Find the word tag V

Tagged by @chazzawrites and @zmlorenz thank you! My words are fate, happy, blank and grand/history, tradition, city, and flame. As always, the excerpts are from These Cursed Paths.

Happy

He... dislikes her choice of regiment about three times more than Jehona dislikes his insistence on remaining a Wolf. In their house, no one is happy with the decisions the other has made concerning their profession. Elmir Trantis cannot swallow the fact that his beloved daughter chose to be a spy. Initially, he had been overjoyed when Jehona had declared she would be following her elder cousin, Kassiani, into military training. He had assumed she would take after him and join up with the Wolves or, even better, join the Lions like his elder brother, Ervin. In his mind, whoever could stand against her mother for more than four moves in Ten’s Thief would make an excellent war strategist. But that is the problem with assuming. It comes with expectations and, when those are not met, disappointment follows. Such is the case here, too. Her father tries not to show it, of course—he loves her way too much to be that callous, except that is a futile endeavor since Jehona is nothing if not perceptive.

— Chapter 1

Blank

Denis Madron, high commander of the Wolves, the quarter of the military tasked with protecting the cities, takes the word in the same blank, unruffled voice Jehona has always heard from him. “So we’re supposed to what? Cower from the wrath of our dear President-General and do nothing? Just being in this room dooms us. For all we know, an Eagle might be out there listening in on us right now.”

Not wrong there. She checks the grounds again. Just in case. You never know with High Commander Madron; he’s one of those people that should come with a warning label, but don’t.

— Chapter 1

Grand

The buildings that rise around her are unlike any in Terrus. Tall and grand, they’re architectural masterpieces, built to display the wealth of their long-deceased owners, a glorious testament to their egos. The lovely mirage is slightly distorted by the sense of dread that hangs over it, a choking, ever-present feeling punctuated with every broken window, every questionable stench, every unidentifiable sound that Rumaysa comes across. She grows increasingly paranoid, casting her eyes all around her, wondering if anyone is tracking the sound of her crutches hitting the pavement. In the dark of the night, it sounds too loud.

— Chapter 5

History

“And that is not all,” the dealer says in a singsong voice, now fully putting on a show. She demands payment in money as much as in attention and Rumaysa is all too happy to indulge her. After all, half of the books she has in her store are thanks to Magik and her uncanny ability to smuggle anything she asks for through the border. “I got you two of Beata Ordoz’s new books.”

At this, Rumaysa gasps. “Shut up. Seriously?”

Beata Ordoz is the Austerian author of almost all of her favorite books, with a penchant for magical realism and fantasy. The woman is a living legend. Her books are poignant criticisms of the empire veiled masterfully in the breathtaking curtain of the fantastical. So well-hidden is the criticism that very few truly see it for what it is. In fact, Rumaysa has heard that many Austerian officials love her work and are thinking of giving her an award and recognizing her as one of the greatest artists of the empire.

“Only for you,” she says, pulling out two books and setting them down beside the box of medical tomes. “Black Egg and Red History.”

Rumaysa studies the hardcovers. She’d learned Austerian with Jehona and Kass during their years of military training so her eyes slide easily over the words on the covers. “Black Egg,” she reads aloud, faintly stroking the spine of the book. The inscription makes her smile. “To the greed and hubris of man.”

— Chapter 5

City

Stepping out into the watery light of the winter sun, she scans her surroundings. Cephis is a dusty, miserable crossroads, a mess of passing carriages and weathered people bringing in contraband wares from the neighboring empire. Each and every time she visits, Kass wonders how the mighty Austeria hasn’t yet managed to claim this city like it had the northernmost ones about a decade ago. Shoving the folder in her cloak’s inner pocket, Kass strolls down the road towards Bence’s house. The information is heavy, not so much in weight as in significance. She knows she would’ve accepted the job even if the pay had been shit. For her family. The minister had done his homework damn well.

— Chapter 2

I’ll tag: @writingamongther0ses, @arkicts, @rhikasa, @sleepyowlwrites, @feralsong, @etoilesvp and @unholieds. Should you guys choose to accept, see if you can find: gaze, tired, burning, star, murmur and spring.

#my writing #wip: these cursed paths #find the word tag #tag game

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olietus · 5 years

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Humans are space orcs - Paradise

More Devin and Zolt'chk. This is a bit of a long one, and since I'm on mobile I can't add a "read more" atm. Sorry! This is mostly to practice on world building and description, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

As always, any advice, constructive criticism and writing prompts/suggestions are more than welcome! (:

------

It had been a little over three days since Zolt'chk had been kidnapped by the human called Devin. At first he had been terrified of her, and while he was still extremely wary of her, the fear had slowly started to be replaced by confusion and frustration. Since their departure had been rather tumultuous, they hadn't been able to procure any rations, and there was nothing to drink either. This meant that the human grew increasingly "hangry", in her own words, which apparently meant that she was so hungry that she got increasingly furious. Zolt wasn't entirely sure how that worked, but it wasn't all too surprising since humans were a very violent predator species, after all. Secretly he had hoped that she'd starve to death (as her incessant complaining was getting rather old), but apparently humans were able to stay alive for quite a long time without food. Not so much without water, though, and due to dehydration the human had now suffered from a rather severe headache and disorientation for the past day. Still, she remained in her seat in the cockpit, furiously searching for the nearest port. Due to the risk of them being caught if they landed in more commercial ports, they'd already passed a couple of stations and planets, and each time they did, Devin got more and more desperate.

Zolt had decided to not bother her, as he really didn't want to end up being eaten. Instead he'd made himself a bit of a nest in the back of the little ship, using a couple of space suits and oxygen tubes to make it soft and cozy; the vessel wasn't equipped with any proper sleeping quarters, as it was only meant for short transport and maintenence runs. He'd been trying to finally get some sleep, as the first 30-something hours had been nerve wracking and had rendered him unable to relax at all. Exhaustion had started to get the better of him now, though, and as he curled up in his nest he was already falling asleep.

He was abruptly woken up by a loud rumble and a tremble that went through the ship, and he raised his head to look around in confusion. The ship creaked again and then, with a final loud 'thunk', the ship went still and quiet. Had they landed? The big arachi stubled to his feet, but instantly fell back down as a raging roar reached him, and Devin shot out from the cockpit, rushing past him to unlock the doors. She pressed the airlock button at least six times, clearly incredibly impatient. Zolt slowly moved over towards her, cowering slightly.

"Where are we?", he asked cautiously, just as the airlock hissed and allowed them through.

"Arbor V.", she replied shortly.

Zolt turned to look at her. Her face was stern and she was biting her lip. He didn't know what that behaviour meant in itself, but it was clear that she felt tense. As she should. Arbor V was an infamous miniature planet where crime ran rampant and almost half the planet was under martial law. The rest was ruled by several different warlords and clans that constantly warred with each other over land and resources. Most of the planet's natural resources consisted of precious minerals and forests. Arbor V was, despite everything, a very beautiful planet in its own right. Its skies were a beautiful, warm tone of pink and lilac during the days, which then shifted into a velvety emerald green towards the evening, before the night sky grew black and dotted with trillions of bright stars. During the day the two brilliant twin suns shone brightly above, leaving the surface at a comfortable, balmy temperature. During the night the planet's neighbour became visible; the big red planet Kocari, that even though it was remote, took up a large portion of the night sky. The soil on Arbor V was as red as the planet above, its cliffs and rocks white as chalk, and the vast forests were a mix of stunning, brilliant purples and blues. During night the forests and its creatures turned bright with bioluminescence, and small flying insects set the night ablaze with their intricate lightshows. If one didn't know the truth about this planet, it would surely be named a paradise.

As the two aliens stepped out of the little ship, they looked around and found themselves in a rather elegant-looking port, filled with ships from many different planets, creeds and classifications. Devin could spot a human military ship a few rows down, but business around it seemed to go on as normal. The general agreement on Arbor V was that as long as outsiders didn't mess with the powers that be and they didn't stay longer than necessary, they'd be left alone. It was a rather remote area in civilized space, so those outsiders who came here usually did so out of outmost need, not will, and would thus agree to these terms. Much like Devin herself. She needed food, money and a new ship. She could probably acquire all of them here, though with rather varying difficulty.

As they walked down the ramp they were met by a small bat-like creature with large floppy ears, short reddish fur and six appendages; two arms, four legs. It had a short fluffy tail, and wore the dark green uniform that adorned all space port personnel. She was flanked by two massive guards with long, triple jointed arms and short, sturdy legs. Their singular eyes were trained on the newcomers, and each of them carried a massive rifle. Their red uniforms signaled military. The bat raised one of her clawed hands and motioned towards the two newcomers to approach. They did so without questioning it, and the litte port master stared up at them with her three beady eyes. In her other hand she held a tablet.

"Please state your name, species, sex, allegiance and the purpose of your visit."

The human sighed and crossed her arms as she was impatient to get going, but complied.

"Devin, human, female, no allegiance, and we're just here to stock up on rations, fuel and to upgrade our vehicle."

It was quiet for a moment as the Arborian filled in the information, and then she looked over at Zolt. He stared back for a second, before he realized that it was his turn. The two soldiers tightened their grip on their weapons.

"Oh, uh... Yes, Zolt'chk, arachi, male, uh...", he paused and looked over at his human captor. He had no idea what to respond to the allegiance part. The human raised her eyebrows at him and gave a weird jerk with her head. He had no idea what she was trying to say.

"Yes?", came the slightly annoyed prod from the port master.

"... Uh, no allegiance, and my reasons are the same.", he hurried to reply. In all honesty he would've loved to tell the Arborian the truth, but first of all he was scared that if he did, Devin would twist his head off, and secondly that the Arborians themselves would kidnap and sell him. An already kidnapped person was nothing more than a basic ware like any other on this planet.

The little creature in green uniform jotted down the last of the information, and then scanned the ship's code, giving it a slight look of surprise and then looked up at the two aliens in front of her.

"This ship was reported stolen a few days ago. Says here it belongs to the Delta Cluster trade coalition." She squinted a them. Her henchmen shuffled behind her, glaring at the two outsiders.

"As I said, we're here to upgrade our vehicle.", Devin repeated. Zolt was stunned at the fact that she didn't try to hide that she stole it. He'd heard that humans could be rather illogical, but this was straight up moronic. Still, the bat-like creature blinked at them and then nodded.

"Very well. Will you be altering, selling, dismantling or destroying it, then? We are willing to take care of the procedures needed to have it travel safe again, for a price of course."

"Selling."

"Ah, very well. Will you sell it as-is, or will you pay for the procedures required to sell it at full price, ready-to-use?"

"As it is, thank you."

"I see. Lovely. We will add it to our digital stock at a price equal to its current market value, and once it's sold the earnings will be forwarded to your credits account. 20% of the profits will go to us as a middle hand and handling fee. Please sign and enter your account ID here.", she said and held out her tablet towards Devin, who added her info without question. Zolt started to say something, but Devin gave him an annoyed shove with her foot, and he went quiet again. The port master looked approvingly at Devin's signature and gave them a short nod.

"Thank you very much for your service, and welcome to Arbor V."

The second the little port master and her menacing entourage left them Devin was off half-running towards the nearest exit. Zolt, who didn't know what else to do, followed her. She'd just sold off their ship, effectively stranding them on this hellhole of a planet, and he had no idea how to get back home on his own from here. He felt a cold knot of dread form in his abdomen, and he did his best to stay close to the human.

Devin didn't look back even for a second. Her stomach was growling loudly, startling people as she walked past them. Humans were rare out here, or at least civilian ones, and Devin wore no indicators of being part of any militia. People stared at her rather shamelessly, but she didn't care. She just blindly followed her nose and stumbled towards the sweet scent of food, and as soon as the first small food stall came into view she sprinted straight up to it. The owner of the stall looked perplexed at the sight of her, though he didn't show any of the fear that was the more common reaction to seeing humans. Instead, he handed the red-haired girl a menu with one of his many six-digit hands. She was already in the middle of her order when Zolt caught up with her. She turned around and grinned widely at him.

"Do you want something? My treat!", she said cheerily and pushed the menu into the arachi's talons. The insectoid hesitated but then read through the list of courses, and rather quickly settled on one that would agree with his digestive system. Thankfully most food establishments, big or small, carried options for all the most common digestive systems. Amazingly enough, humans could eat almost anything from any option, but what else could one expect from a creature that literally had a vat of acid as a part of its digestive system.

Once their orders were placed, they moved a bit to the side to wait for their food to be ready. They stood quietly next to each other, Devin swaying slightly from side to side, eventually opting on leaning against Zolt, who stiffened at the contact. She was as warm as always, and he wasn't sure if it was pleasant or uncomfortable. Mostly it just felt weird. He wondered if it was truly comfortable to have such a high body temperature.

"I'm sorry."

He looked down at her, confused.

"What?", he asked, trying to read her expression, but she was looking away from him. She sighed.

"I already apologized once, but I don't feel like it's enough. It was terrible of me to drag you with me the way I did."

Zolt was quiet. The human's voice was steady but low, and there was a certain hesitant quality to it that he hadn't heard earlier. Somehow, despite her not crying, it made him think back on the first time he'd seen her. Despite his better judgement he once again pitied her. Still, he said nothing. He knew that she spoke the truth. If her plan had truly been to kidnap him, she wouldn't have left him unbound, she wouldn't have tried to be nice to him, and she would have definitely made an effort to restrain him before they landed if she'd wished to sell him into slavery. But he couldn't quite trust her. She was human, she was unpredictable, and she was dangerous.

When he didn't respond, Devin spoke again.

"I realize that I've put you in a very scary and unfamiliar situation, but once I have my own ship that's safe to travel with, I'll drop you off at whichever planet or station that you want. You have my word, Zolt'chk."

Before he could answer, their order was called out and they went to collect it. They sat down at a bench a short distance away from the busy street and quietly ate their food. It felt incredibly awkward.

Then he broke the silence.

"Thank you."

***

Devin felt terrible. She was indebted to the poor arachi next to her, but instead of repaying his kindness she'd probably ended up scarring him for life. He had barely said a word to her in the past few days, and she could tell that he tensed up every time she got close to him. She hadn't planned on abducting him. In all honesty it hadn't been on her mind even as she'd dragged him into the ship. It wasn't really until after her adrenaline settled down that she had truly realized what she'd done... And now she had no idea how to make it right. She hoped to at least be able to make him less wary of her, if not for her own sake then for his. She had no idea how to do that, though, and she was too hungry and dehydrated to think of a proper solution at the moment.

She ate her food rather quickly, feeling absolutely famished. Her first drink was already consumed, and she greedily started to chug down her second one. She was in the middle of this when Zolt'chk finally spoke.

"Thank you."

She nearly spat out her drink. Somehow, that was the very last thing she'd expected him to say. She looked at him a bit bewildered.

"For the food, I mean.", Zolt continued. The human deflated slightly, feeling a bit disappointed, but swiftly reminded herself that this was an entirely positive thing and gave him a soft smile.

"My pleasure.", she said. Zolt'chk hesitated for a moment.

"Could I possibly have seconds?", he asked sheepishly. Devin's smile widened and she let out a chuckle.

"Of course."

#humans vs. aliens #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #sci fi #story #space #oc #devin #zolt'chk #zolt #human #alien

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years

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My Man - Epilogue

A Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Okay, I know I said My Man was over, but after some encouragement from @stupendousapricotstudentzipper I decided to post the epilogue I wrote for it. Thanks, friend!

Summary: Reader was a Broadway actress starring in a West End production of Funny Girl. She was widow, thanks to the Vietnam War, but it was well-kept secret. She also wanted everyone to think she didn’t care for rock music. She met Roger Taylor when he brought his date backstage. They didn’t start off great, but a party at Freddie’s turned them around and they became friends. After she was attacked by a director, Roger was there for her. After getting a role in a new show in order to stay in London, she got closure after her attack and was ready to take a big step with Rog. They married, and live together happily.

Word Count: 1K

Tag List: @bohemian-war, @kittygirlno, @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess, @rockyroadthepastryarchy, @goodoldfashionedloverboyy, @jennyggggrrr, @discodeacygotmorerhythm, @x1975sos, @slytherinxval, @cyndagoaway, @doingalrightt, @lovvliies, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @capsparrowtara, @they-call-me-peaches, @hyosong, @riddikuluslypotter, @orchideax, @shishterfackisback

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X

This really is the last bit, I swear!

“Okay, Ophelia, open wide!” you cooed at your little daughter, bringing a spoonful of baby food to her mouth. She giggled a little as she swallowed it. “That’s a good girl!”

“Mummy, can we go outside now?” your other daughter, Darcy, asked.

“You’ve barely touched your lunch and I’m not finished feeding your sister,” you replied. “Just a few more minutes, darling.”

She groaned and began shoveling the rest of her macaroni into her mouth.

“Slow down,” you said. “You don’t want to choke.”

You turned back to Ophelia and fed her another mouthful. The front door opened and your daughters squealed with delight as Roger came into the kitchen. He smiled, but you could tell something was wrong.

“Daddy!” Darcy cried, clamoring out of her chair and flinging herself into his arms.

He picked her up and spun her around as she shrieked with mirth. He kissed her cheeks a rubbed his stubble against them.

“Daddy scratchy face! Daddy scratchy face!” he teased as she wriggled in his grasp.

“Da!” Ophelia interrupted, grabbing for him with her tiny fist. “Da!”

He set Darcy down and walked over to the high chair, kneeling in front of it. “How’s my little Ophelia? Being a good girl for Mummy?”

She smiled a wide, toothy (though she had few) grin and took hold of his hair. He pressed his lips to her hand, to her immense delight. Then she released him.

“Daddy, I wanna go outside and play,” Darcy said.

“Did Mum say you could?” he replied.

She huffed and looked at you. “Can I go? Daddy can come with me.”

You glanced over at her bowl of mostly eaten macaroni and nodded. “You can go now.”

She took his hand to lead him back out to the driveway, but he stopped her.

“Just a moment, I haven’t even said hello to your mother,” he said, turning to you. “Hello, my love.” He kissed you sweetly on the lips.

“Ewwww,” Darcy whined.

“Go,” you told him. “Ophelia and I will join you in a few minutes.”

He pecked your lips one more time before allowing Darcy to lead him out. It was summer and she loved to draw with sidewalk chalk. You finished up feeding Ophelia after a few minutes and then carried her out to join them.

Darcy was showing Roger all her artwork from the morning.

“That’s Uncle Brian,” she said, pointing to the smiley face she drew with wild, curly hair.

“Uncanny,” he praised.

“There’s Uncle John, you, and Uncle Freddie!” she continued.

You sat on the steps of your porch and watched. Roger’s face shifted as he looked at Darcy’s rudimentary depiction of Freddie. He quickly recovered as Darcy pressed on, telling him that she still needed to draw instruments, but she’d need his help to remember “how many drums,” as she put it.

Ophelia squirmed in your arms, eager to be a part of whatever her sister and father were doing. You set her on her feet so she could toddle over to them. Roger beamed at her approach, and handed her a piece of chalk. She sat down and scribbled the ground beside her, utterly thrilled to be doing it.

You smiled to yourself as the hot sun warmed your skin. But you were worried about Roger. Something was off, and you could tell.

“Okay, girls, you keep drawing, I’m gonna go sit with Mum for a bit, yeah?” he said. “Darc, help your sister.”

“Got it,” Darcy replied.

He jogged over and took a seat beside you. He kissed your cheek and pulled you into his lap.

“Roger!” you laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I just love you so much,” he told you. “I want to tell you every day because you’re perfect every day.”

“I love you too,” you returned, looking deeply in his eyes. “What brought all this on?”

“Nothing,” he insisted. “Let’s just enjoy this. I want to hold you and watch our beautiful girls.”

You indulged him and said no more. Meanwhile, he peppered kisses across your face and neck. You took his hand and interlocked your fingers.

“Do you miss performing?” he asked suddenly.

You took a moment for that. It had been years since you’d been in a show. After She Loves Me ran for two years, you and Roger wanted a family, so you’d retired. You had missed it a lot at first. Sometimes so much you ached. But as you looked at your daughters - Darcy was guiding Ophelia’s hand to draw a microphone in Freddie’s hand - your heart swelled.

“I wouldn’t trade this for anything,” you told him.

“Good,” he said. “I just don’t want you to feel like...I dunno, you’re not completely and totally happy.”

“Roger, tell me what’s going on,” you said. “You know I’m happy being your wife and mother of your kids. Why are you talking like this?”

His eyes were suddenly shining with tears and he buried his face in your neck.

“It’s Fred,” he choked out. “He’s got it. The same thing that took Jack. He told us this morning.”

You gasped, you hand covering your mouth. Your brother had died of AIDS about a year after Darcy was born. You remembered how Roger held you through the night as you sobbed. Your parents wrote and had absolutely forbid you from attending the funeral. You couldn’t believe Freddie Mercury had the same thing. He always felt immortal to you. And if Freddie died, what would become of his family, Queen?

“I’m so sorry, Rog,” you said, cradling his face.

Without you noticing, the girls had walked over. Darcy looked concerned, and tilted her head with confusion. Ophelia crawled into his lap beside you.

“Daddy? Are you okay?” Darcy asked.

Roger rubbed his eyes and smiled at her. “Of course, lovie. C’mere.”

He pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her. He kissed each of you on the head. You tried to hold back you own emotion.

“I have everything I am ever going to need right here,” he whispered to you. “And I have never appreciated you more.”

That night, after you put the girls to sleep and got ready for bed yourself, Roger sat up, his brow furrowed.

“Y/N,” he said as you took your place beside him and snuggled under his arm. “Let’s try for a boy. What d’you think?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” you replied.

He kissed you.

“I love you so much,” he said.

“I love you too.”

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moviepower · 4 years

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Why do people criticize Jojo Rabbit?

We'd say that this is uncharted territory for distributor Disney, but the company did previously give us their futures face. Hmm. I saw Jojo Rabbit in the best place I could for movies, in my opinion.

For this list, we're looking at why Tyco ITTS 2019 black comedy has proven. So polarizing for critics just to clarify the critical reception thus far has been mostly positive and even watch mojo gave the film a rave review following its TIFF premiere.

Nevertheless, we can definitely see why a movie like this. Wouldn't win audiences over everywhere. Hey Joe, Joe, my old friend. Hi adults. Number 10, the controversial premise. I don't think I can do this last. Of course you can simply by reading it synopsis, you can tell why Jojo rabbit has stirred up so much controversy.

In the midst of world war II, a young German boy named Joe Joe dreams of becoming a Nazi upon learning that his mother has been harboring a Jewish girl in the attic though, Jo Jo begins to reevaluate his outlook on life. I tell them you will be in big trouble throughout this coming of age journey. Our titular character is guided by his imaginary friend.

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Is it worth to watch Jojo Rabbit full movie

Who just so happens to be a flamboyantly incompetent, Adolf Hitler, as inventive as the premises, it was guaranteed to ignite passionate feelings. Critics are unsurprisingly split as to whether the film's premise is inspired or irresponsible. I wish more of our young boys had your blind fanaticism. Okay.

Number nine, how it stacks up to other satires and this world is ruined for everyone and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way Jojo rabbit. Isn't the first film to satirize Hitler or Nazis 1940 twos to be, or not to be was criticized upon release for its farcical, spin of Nazi occupied Poland.

But today is viewed as a comedy classic. I know you're quite famous in London kernel. They call you concentration camp Earhart. Yes. Yes, we do the concentrating and the poles do the camping Hitler. Technically isn't the protagonist and the great dictator. It's obvious who Charlie Chaplin was parodying. We can learn more about actress playing mother Jojo on Wikipedia.

Arguably the most famous sendup of Nazi Germany is Mel Brooks. The producers. In which two con men put on an intentionally horrible musical entitled springtime for Hitler. Practically a love letter to this own run a week week. Are you kidding display? It's got the close on page four. Some critics are ready to place Jojo rabbit alongside these revolutionary respected comedy.

What do critics write in reviews about Jojo Rabbit?

Others, however, would claim that the film has more in common with the bridge sit-com Hile, honey I'm home, which was so misguided and tasteless that it only lasted one episode. Oh 10 night. You will make an schnitzel. What a joke. You must be real mad at me, honey. I'm a very, very bad Hitler. Number eight, what's going on in the real world right now?

Fuck man. The house, although world war II is in the past. The same, unfortunately can not be said about bigotry. Nowhere was this more apparent than at the 2017 unite the right rally in Charlottesville, which attracted several hate groups, including neo-Nazis. Since prejudice and discrimination remain prevalent in today's world.

It's obvious why various critics would object to a film that makes light of Nazi Germany. Nevertheless, satire can reflect modern times as well as history in ways that straightforward drama can't. Some might argue that now isn't the right time for a Nazi satire, but others would debate that society needs a movie like Jojo rabbit. A great story about the Irishman is here.

Now more than ever, you're not to nuts. Jojo, tenue kids likes dressing up in front of you. If somebody wants to be part of a club. Number seven, the humor, the best weekend ever.

Soundtrack in the highest level of production

Wow. Your enjoyment of Jojo rabbit will hinder on how hard you laugh. Or of course, if you laugh, the film didn't tickle. Roger Freedman. Funnybone who wrote in his showbiz four one, one review Jojo rabbit is actually borderline antisemitic offensive on many levels and not even funny. Sam Adams of slate couldn't have disagreed more proclaiming for Jojo rabbit comedy.

Isn't a means to minimize, but to analyze wise, to pry at the way, hateful ideologies can be embraced as a comfort and how beneath their promise to. Blame how the world really works is an understanding no more sophisticated than a child's it's time to buy some books. Since humor is subjective, we guess there isn't always going to be a clear line between what's offensively funny and what's just plain offensive.

Oh God. Number six. Jewish jokes. Did you know, Jews can Z to each other's mind. So tell us, you know, who saw one? They could look just like us of Tyco. ITT satire is clearly the Nazis. However, the director who's of Jewish and Maori heritage also pokes fun at Judaism. Hi, well, the real Jordan Rumi was horrified by the audience's reception at the screening he attended.

Writing, you have no idea how it is to be surrounded by thousands of people laughing at jokes, specifically directed at Jews. That being said, Rumi seemed to be in the minority of a group that found the film. Hilarious. As with Borat and South park, many would argue that the humor and Jojo rabbit isn't intended to mock the Jewish faith, but to criticize how ignorant and Semites are a cute number five, the life is beautiful comparison, right?

Jojo Rabbit's reaction to mom's death

Yeah. Critics have stocked a Jojo rabbit up against numerous other films. But life is beautiful. Seems to be the one that's invited the most comparisons this 1997, Italian dromedy also presented world war II through a lighthearted lens, centering on a Jewish man who uses humor and imagination to shield his son from the horrors of the Holocaust. It's interesting what they write about this movie on Amazon.

Well, the film won an Academy award for best foreign language film, and even got nominated for best picture. There were those who found the movies comedic tone, inappropriate. Over two decades later, we will continue to debate if the movie is a life affirming fable or a dated misfire. It's actually eerie how much these two films have in common, especially since both one TIFs peoples choice award.

That is the strongest thing in the world. Number four, is it shocking enough? I was your age. I had an imaginary friend come in so much stuff even before the first trailer dropped Jojo rabbit was being built up as one of 20 nineteens most controversial movies. Weirdly enough though, some critics have expressed disappointment that the film isn't more shocking.

Well, audiences have arguably gotten more sensitive with time. There are still patrons who crave comedy that pushes the envelope to its limits. It's time to burn some books. Brian Talarico of the Chicago sun times felt Jojo rabbit played it too safe. Writing the final scenes of Jojo rabbit are too easy for a film that needs to be dangerous and daring.

Are the best scenes already included in the trailer?

Even if the film doesn't go all out with its edgy concept. Seeing Tyco, ITT dresses, Adolf Hitler will be more than enough to make a few jobs drop. What am I going to do? No idea. Going down the house in Glen Winston church one, negotiate number three. It's depiction of Nazis. The playlist Charles romesco took issue with the films, humanization of antisemites writing.

YTT concedes that a good percentage of Nazis really do hold hate in their heart. But maintains that at least some of them aren't you two seem to be getting on. Well, it doesn't seem like a bad cost. How much pain and suffering the Nazis caused many audiences will understandably struggle with this message.

However, if Ron Jones proved anything with his third wave social experiment in 1967, it's that even ordinary people can get swept up in the dangerous ideals of fascism. Likewise, Jojo rabbit poses, a challenging question. If we're not willing to acknowledge the bad and the good in people, how can we ever rid ourselves of prejudice?

Nothing makes sense anymore. Yeah, I know. It's definitely not a good time to be a Nazi. Number two it's message. And mother took me. She's kind me like a person, whatever your thoughts on Jojo rabbit, Tyco ITT clearly wanted to spread an anti hate message. YTT also claims that he started writing the screenplay before Nazis regained relevance in the media.

There's little doubt that why TTS intent was noble, whether or not the final product successfully gets his message across is where critics are split. A doubt of the a V club felt that making fun of Nazi Germany had been done before. Thus taking away from the movies, broader anti hate theme. Peter Howell begged to differ in his Toronto star review writing Taika YTT knocks it out of deer park with the meaningful lunacy of his anti hate satire, which is equal parts.

Adolf Hitler's thread in the movie

Mel Brooks, West Henderson, and own whimsical brilliance growing up too fast. Ten-year-olds and the celebrating war and talking politics. Before we continue, be sure to subscribe to our channel and ring the bell to get notified a better latest videos. You'll have the option to be notified for occasional videos or all of them.

If you're on your phone, make sure you go into your settings and switch on notifications. Number one it's depiction of Hitler. Well, they call me a scared rabbits. Okay. Let's address the giant rabbit in the room. Tyco YTT spends most of his screen time prancing around in a Nazi uniform and toothbrush mustache. If you want, you can read here about preparations for making a movie and other curiosities.

Without a doubt, YTT, didn't set out to deliver a serious or dignified portrayal of Hitler. Rather YTT aspired to make the fewer look as goofy and idiotic as possible. Oh, . Just painting Hitler as a wacky, even likable buffoon desensitized us to the atrocities. He committed though. Some may say yes while others may argue that it leaves audiences more informed and open-minded.

At the end of the day, everyone is going to have a different opinion of Jojo. Let them say whatever they want. People used to say a lot of nasty things about me. Oh, this guy's a lunatic. Oh, look at that psycho. He's going to get us all killed. Do you agree with our picks, check out this other recent clip from watch mojo and be sure to subscribe and ring the bell to be notified about our latest videos.

#jojo rabbit #movie #movies #netflix #hbo

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jamiefairfaxisntcool · 5 years

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/mu/core album review | Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

/mu/core album review #1

this week on /mu/core album review, we look at:

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Ah yes, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. The album that’s mostly known as either, “that one weird album from the 90s,” or, “/mu/ basic bitch meme music.” If you’re anywhere past a casual music fan, you have most-likely heard some songs off this project, if not the whole thing, doubly so if you’re into 90s culture, Indie, or any sort of Art-Rock or Folk movements. As I type this, the most popular YouTube rip of the album has about 4.3 million views, a playlist separating each track stands at 500,000 views, and the title track has a remarkable 40,733,956 plays on Spotify. Holy shit, to put that into perspective: AV Club writes that, “In The Aeroplane Over The Sea was originally slated to sell about 7,000 copies,” that’s roughly 5,819 times the predicted sales numbers of the album on just that song. This also means that this song has been listened to for approximately 131,163,338 minutes, a total of around 131,163,299 more minutes than the actual album length. Humanity has spent a collective 249 years listening to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Oh, and that’s just the title track.

If I couldn’t spell it out so clearly there, this album is fucking outrageously popular.

Even if you haven’t heard any material off the LP, this album is memed pretty heavily in the music corners of the internet. I don’t think I can find a single music meme page or forum that hasn’t jumped upon the ITAOTS or NMH bandwagon.

At this current point in time, ITAOTS has became a permanent resident in the zeitgeist of internet music culture. NMH, and by extension, it’s creator, Jeff Mangum have been elevated to a cult of personality status. The band and this project are accompanied by a never-ending choir: 15-25 year old sad white boys who cry while sing-screeching about semen and Anne Frank and poorly play open chords on their detuned Ibanez acoustics.

It’s oddly beautiful.

The album is so deceptively simple, so creatively cryptic and has all the elements of a slog faux-folk fest filled with whining that would bore me to so many tears that they could rival the sad boy indie kids who lose their e-girls to their more socially active explore-page bait counterparts. To a person not familiar with it, ITAOTS could look like an over hyped, masturbatory depression tape. It looks boring. It looks like it should be boring.

If it should be boring, then why have I only listened to it and absolutely nothing else for the last two days?

This isn’t a joke, I revisited the album of course to refresh myself before sitting down and writing this review. I kept listening, over the course of a school day, in-between production and songwriting sets, while playing games, and as I write this, I just finished my eighth spin of the record. Before those last two days, I had only listened to the album probably twice.

I remember listening to it back in seventh grade and not particularly disliking it. I was really into Yes and a lot of other Prog and Psych bands, but I wasn’t particularly impressed with the almost yuppie voice that Jeff had used on the record compared to vocal beasts like Freddie Mercury, Bowie, and Jon Anderson. Later on, I listened in freshman year, and I appreciated it much more, and had a few songs come up in my shuffle play, but thought nothing much of it.

Now, war had changed.

part 1: i’m the fucking carrot king

As I plopped down in my computer chair, my window crackled and banged like a distant firecracker with the smack of heavy rains on a Summer afternoon. I placed my headphones firmly atop my ears, closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I heard the opening chords of The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1 and tried not just to hear the instrumentation, but also pay attention to the lyrical content of Mr. Mangum.

When you were young, you were the king of carrot flowers And how you built a tower tumbling through the trees In holy rattlesnakes that fell all around your feet

Okay, so what the fuck is actually happening here?

Upon my listens, I inferred that Jeff is speaking to another party here, most likely a female love interest, in what seemingly starts in a nostalgic tone. This sounds almost like a picturesque, coming-of-age, Americana film. Maybe one starring Molly Ringwald and River Phoenix, with a surprise cameo from someone famous back then like Jack Nicholson. Maybe John Candy, with a John Hughes script. Everything would have those faded out, classic colors, a hearkened back era. Quickly, by halfway through the first act, the tone shifts. A darker mood, a stark, grim reminder that life wasn’t always sunny and shinning in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

And your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder And dad would throw the garbage all across the floor As we would lay and learn what each other's bodies were for

The Mang informs us of a horrific family life, specifically about what seems to be his dad’s, stepmom’s, and stepsister’s interpersonal relationships. The lines are obvious and straightforward, the life of our protagonist was rife with unhealthy familial and sexual relationships, and a sense of love and sweetness was not found there. Keep that in mind when thinking about later songs such as Oh Comely.

After the somber intro of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1, we reach my personal least favorite track on the album: The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 2 and 3.

Look, I know the meme. “I LOOOOOOOOOVE JESUUUS CHUHRIEEEIISSSSTT,” and all that shit. I’m not even worked up about that line in particular, I just dislike Pt. 3. It’s the weakest of the upbeat songs on the album, with the weird yodel-screech voice that Gumman performs with really takes me out of the experience, which sucks because the buildup and atmosphere of Pt. 2 felt pretty amazing. Luckily, Pt. 3 is fairly short, so we don’t have to worry about it too much.

part 2: earth angel’s thesis

The title track for this album is one of the best songs on this album, no fucking contest. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Oh Comely, The Fool, and Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2 are top contenders when discussing this album. If you like the faster, fuzzier, upbeat songs you could probably substitute The Fool for Holland, 1945.

The title track has a familiar sounding chord progression and we can hear Gum from Jet Set Radio’s saccharine but yelp-y voice belt out from atop the mountains his undying love and admiration for... Anne Frank?

What a beautiful face I have found in this place That is circling all round the sun What a beautiful dream That could flash on the screen In a blink of an eye and be gone from me

In the first verse, Geoff mentions meeting or viewing a beautiful person on this fleeting rock circling round the Sun. He also matches this with the idea that it’s truly futile for him to chase after this beauty, as it is only a dream that could escape him when he awakes. El Jefé has actually mentioned that some of his surrealist lyrics are derived from dreams. Perhaps these lines could imply a more literal dream fading? I don’t exactly know, all I know is what I interpreted.

The instrumentation of this piece is nothing straying from NMH’s usual repertoire: Mandrake on Guitar and Vocals, Scott Spillane on the Horns, Robert Schneider on Bass and Production, Julian Koster playing... something. What is he playing? Wait, give me a second.

He’s playing the Singing Saw? I thought it was like, a Theremin. What the fuck is a Singing Saw?

Oh.

Okay sure, you can play that, however the fuck you do that.

And finally we have Jeremy Barnes on Drums.

The personnel handle the music with a light, bouncy feeling, and the tone and timbre remind me of a faded, old, seaside town on the east coast. Another thing to mention is that the chord progression is G-Em-C-D; I-vi-IV-V. A funny thing I noticed is that this song shares a chord progression with tons of songs from the 50’s and early 60’s, which adds to the waning Americana feeling, but it more specifically shares that progression with Earth Angel by The Penguins. In the 80’s film, Back To The Future, Marvin Berry covers the song with his band for the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance where Marty’s dad and mom have to dance to ensure that the future stays intact. There’s no further real connection, but I thought that was kinda cool to mention.

After looking through the lyrics for In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, I will admit, as a brainlet Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 eluded me. Patrolling through Genius and some other reviews, I guess the consensus about this track was that it was about Anne Frank again? Manta Jeff’s cryptic lyricism continues to fool me. Besides the lyrics, this track mostly remains a piece of really good filler.

part 3: stop the military occupation of my brainwaves

The Fool is amazing, anyone who says it’s filler is wrong. I know I might anger some people by literally implying that Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 was filler, but seriously The Fool just makes me a feel a way. My brain creates a scene reminiscent of a depressing diesel-punk Les Misérables. Even though Scotch Spillage’s fantastic piece for horns is beautifully imperfect, it lacks lyrical content and is short and length. So, let’s instead talk about Holland, 1945.

This awesome, uptempo, almost punk-like piece of fuzzy brass is groovy son. It’s probably the song you could show someone not familiar with this project and they’d be like, “Oh, is this Cake? Why is the lead singer singing so high now?”

Holland, 1945 is a song that you can just listen for the instrumentation. Holland, 1945 is a song that promotes peace and love. There’s so many great things I can say about Holland, 1945. How it’s theme is so perfectly fitting for today’s political climate, how it manages to blend these psychedelic and bluesy timbres with a fast and loud sound and how well it continued the semi-conceptual narrative of Joff’s admiration and love for... Anne Frank.

Okay, fuck it, I have to say it. It’s bothered me ever since I discovered it.

Why Anne Frank? Like, I know why Anne Frank, but I mean like, why, y’know? I’ll say I admire Anne Frank, she was trying her best to live a normal life in a terrifying time to be alive, but I never wanted to fuck her. xxJeffxx’s mentions of Anne kind of make me raise an eyebrow. Especially because the album’s not just about her either. When he gets sexual, it’s difficult to determine whether he is mentioning a third party or Anne, which would be pretty weird, as she was 15 when she died and Heff was 28 when he wrote this. Maybe this is just some patrician music shit that I’m too plebeian to understand, like heated toilet seats or drinking for fun rather than to drown the pain. Maybe I haven’t sat down and watched enough flowery-squarespace-sponsored-lofi-hip-hop-muzak-using-pretentious video essayists to understand it, but what do I know.

part 4: the proletariat cries

To wrap on the second half of the album, this is the half that I cried in.

Communist Daughter is a good song, but with how short it is, it left me wanting more. This track is one of the few that actually features a soft-spoken Jeffen, and its open and dark but dreamy atmosphere left my jaw agape. The mountaintops weren’t the only thing stained.

Oh Comely, Oh Comely. Oh Comely is a song that deserves its own review. The lyrical chops of The Mangum Magnum are on full display as he belts somber, brutal verse after verse, with plenty of juxtaposition between sickening, sexual and vile situations alongside a description of a sweet, innocent young girl, just trying to survive with a guitar by her side. This beautiful, lovely girl gets taken advantage by someone, some people, perhaps even Yeff himself, only seen as an easy lay, a whore, like the ones her father visits often. He disgustingly describes semen in the garden, and her making miracles with her mouth, but I didn’t get a tone similar to so many songs about “sexual-empowerment.” The song is about self-deprecating depression leading to her being used, perhaps even abused. A situation all too real, too close to many of us. As I type this, I don’t know what to think. A woman should of course have individual sexual freedom, but this song doesn’t describe that. It describes trauma, emotional, psychological trauma. Meaningless sex, a rotten smell, staining the flower of a woman, all of this language that could be simply described as gross. This isn’t a happy song about fucking bitches. This song is about how a girl wanted to play music, pluck vines and was taken advantage of, reduced to her roots, and deflowered. Fuck. I wish I could save her. In some sort of time machine.

Two-Headed Boy could refer to a number of things. I have a head canon. This girl, Comely, is being used by the Two-Headed Boy for sexual favors. The Two-Headed Boy then “repays” her in friendship and music, playing their silly little songs. On the surface, Comely assumes the Two-Headed Boy trusts her and cares for her, but really all he wants is sex. Comely, living in a broken home and without a proper male figure in their life, is conned by the Two-Headed Boy, and just wants to live a normal life. Comely is trapped. She’s living in a place that is surrounded by the texture of scum and she knows it, she just can’t call upon the strength to leave. She’s trapped in a home, a ghetto, wanting to live a normal life, but she’s been placed here by the Two-Headed Boy, who knew her mother and father were broken, and she would be too. The Two-Headed Boy broke in, claimed to be her friend, and supports her, before defiling her. Comely was pretty, bright, and intelligent. She was just in a bad situation.

Comely was Anne Frank.

Not to say that they were literally one in the same, but I mean J. Mangum (private eye) is comparing two children, ripped from their lives by this awful world, and intertwining them, blurring the lines.

Who’s the Two-Headed Boy? As I said, it could be a number of people. Nazis, Peter van Pels, hell, even Jeff Manga himself could be the Two-Headed Boy. It doesn’t matter as long as we realize the relationship between oppressed and oppressor.

There is a glimmer of hope for Comely though. Read the closing words from Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2:

Two headed boy, she is all you could need She will feed you tomatoes and radio wires And retire to sheets safe and clean But don't hate her when she gets up to leave

Comely and the Two-Headed Boy split away from each other. Comely leaves the Two-Headed Boy, and the narrator says not to hate her when she leaves. On a deeper level, this could be an introspective Jeff Mangum relating on his past. I don’t really know.

outro

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

9/10

What did you think? Was I way off the mark, or do you agree? What should I have covered? What did you like, what did you dislike, I’m all ears. Leave a follow and a like if you liked it and I’ll see you on Wednesday.

#neutral milk hotel #music #music review #james fairfax #mu #/mu/core #folk #fuzzfolk #rock #anne frank

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thanedai · 4 years

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@hisfailure // plotted starter

Leoth woke with a wicked pain in his jaw and blood in his mouth. His face was pressed against the floor, its rough, jagged surface scraping his cheek as he struggled to right himself. Something jangled, the clink of metal on metal. His body protested. His shoulder ached and his head felt as if he had slipped sideways instead of upright. It took a moment to steady himself on his knees as he glanced around the cell and through the bars at the other occupant.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi--right. The Republic had been quite adamant they send someone to assist Praxon’s representative. Esbrushing up against pecially when rumors of a possible Separatist attack was imminent. Leoth silently cursed his superior’s stubbornness. She really couldn’t leave things alone sometimes, could she? Kenobi was still unconscious as far as Leoth could tell. The Force said he was still alive.

“Mmm...Mas’er Jedi--” Leoth tried, his jaw screaming in protest. Not a good sign. He reached out instead with the Force, brushing against unfamiliar shields like a hesitant child. It’s different connecting with someone other than a Praxonite. Different, but ultimately the same. Just unfamiliar... Jedi are not with the alignments, after all.

#hisfailure #v: set a course from our two suns (star wars)#ic. leoth

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legobiwan · 5 years

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Whumptober #9 (shackled)

TW: THIS GETS SCHMOOPY YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I RARELY WRITE ROMANCE BUT YOU KNOW, TIMES CHANGE, THEY COME TO AN END, FOR A START.

Fandom: Good Omens (Aziraphale/Crowley)

Notes: This not at all what I generally write, but these two have hijacked my brain in some weird ways. Less angst than usual, far more schmoop than I amn generally comfortable writing but it’s good to expand one’s horizons. Still grappling with these characters and universe, so thank you for bearing with me, the bar has been set high in the Gomens fandom, dear gods.

-----

To shackle (v.): to chain with shackles. See: shackles (n.)

Shackles (n.): a pair of fetters connected together by a chain, used to fasten a prisoner’s wrists or ankles together

Aziraphale hadn’t been there when it happened. He fought in the war, of course - everyone had fought in the war. The actual Fall had went by unwitnessed, however, save for the small tug Azirapahle had felt in his chest when Heaven had opened to that great maw, flinging no less than one-third of his angelic siblings into the impenetrable void.

No one knew for certain what happened after, and first-hand accounts from demons were rather hard to come by. Rumors spread - some had tried to crawl back to Heaven, they said, the enormity of their error made real by the loss of Her Grace. Others welcomed their Fall, dancing, reveling in the maelstrom of indignity and damnation, internalizing their pain to use as a cudgel against others. Still some struggled in the new order, neither desperate for a return nor willing to accept their new fate with open arms.

Soon enough, they all came to know their place, essences shackled to Hell, to their new master.

That, at least, had been the rumor in Heaven.

But Aziraphale had seen the angry, red welts on Crowley’s wrists and ankles in the beginning, and wondered if the rumors were true.

To bind (v.):

1. To tie or fasten (something) tightly

2. To cohere or cause to cohere in a single mass

3. To impose a legal or contractual obligation on; be hampered or constrained by

All things being equal, it wasn’t that difficult to summon and bind a demon. Aziraphale found this perplexing. For a mortal to summon and bind an angel - well, it just didn’t happen and woe betide the angel who found themselves caught in such an embarrassing (and dangerous) situation. One would think Hell might take better precautions, but if the multitude of accounts regarding demon-summoning in the 1800s were anything to go by, this type of activity was categorized more as an occupational hazard than existential threat.

Still, Hell almost always came out on top, as the humans did have a tendency to enter into ill-conceived arrangements with whatever demon they had managed to wrest from the occult plane. The maths worked out in Hell’s favor (between the two sides, it was widely accepted Hell had better accountants. The devil was in the details, after all), and the house always wins. Doubly so when it came to making bargains with the agents of Hell.

And besides, the humans - well, one generally didn’t call upon a demon to do good deeds, now did they? It wasn’t a net loss for Heaven - those sould had been written off the ledger years before Hell got involved.

(Not that demons were called on to do good deeds, in general. That was, excepting certain situations involving Aziraphale and one particular demon.)

Crowley had disappeared three decades into the 16th century.

And then one day, he staggered into Aziraphale’s quarters, complexion chalky, his hands shaking as he grasped the flagon of wine on the angel’s table, downing the contents in one long gulp.

“Where were you?” Aziraphale asked, hours later, neither he nor Crowley having moved from their spots on the floor.

“Summoned. Humans. Nasty business,” Crowley croaked, laying his head on the angel’s thigh. It took less than a minute for the demon to still, mouth open, snores soft as his chest rose and fell with a regular rhythm. Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Crowley’s chest, eyes shuttering closed with uncharacteristic sleepiness.

The next morning Crowley was gone.

To chain (v.): to fasten, bind, or connect with or as if with a chain. See: chain (n.)

Chain (n.): a series of usually metal links or rings connected to or fitted into one another and used for various purposes (such as support, restraint, transmission of mechanical power, or measurement)

Most humans used a calendar to mark time. Aziraphale, being an angel and therefore accustomed to thinking of events in terms of decades and not weeks, used Crowley as his personal calendar. Or more precisely, Crowley’s clothing.

Linens gave way to fitted garments. Heels rose, then tapered in concert with bottoms, which peaked and fell like the tides. And as fashion changed, so did Crowley, a serpent in new skin.

By the 1970s, Crowley had recycled his pants from the Victorian era (“Reusing pants, Crowley?” “Eh, everything comes back, angel. Besides, think of it as Sloth in action, er...non-action, this is. Why make the effort to miracle up something new when I can use something old?”) The long velvet jacket had been a nice touch, although Aziraphale had not been convinced by Crowley’s hair, and certainly not the mustache. It was during the contemplation of said facial hair (and how he might tempt - persuade, rather, the demon to shave it off) that the angel noticed the glint of silver, evidence of a long chain looped around Crowley’s neck. Aziraphale, having lost track of fashion fads somewhere in the eighteenth century, took it as another adaptation of the times and thought nothing more of it.

Except it was now the 1980s, and wide lapels and polyester had given way to egregious shades of neon and tight spandex pants that left little to the imagination. Cheeks flushed, Aziraphale was keeping his gaze trained on the demon from the waist-up, thank you very much, when something caught his attention. A raised outline, on the demon’s chest. If he concentrated, Aziraphale could hear the subtle scrape of metal against metal as Crowley sauntered through Soho.

By the time the 90s had rolled around, (and had thankfully ended the spandex era, there was only so much temptation the angel could withstand), Aziraphale had a working hypothesis.

“It’s nothing, angel,” Crowley responded to his inquiry. They were two bottles of wine in, inhibitions fading with the afternoon sun.

“Crowley, you’re been wearing that - that thing for the past three decades. You can barely keep the same style for five years! Just tell me what it is.”

The demon glanced down at his chest, silver links showing just above his collarbone. Crowley tucked the chain under his black shirt, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “Why does it matter to you?”

The angel frowned. It didn’t matter, shouldn’t matter, but - two bottles of an exquisite Shiraz was making it difficult to remember why. It was something about consistency. Something about being marked, about the symbolism. It was like wearing an amulet, or...Aziraphale’s mind searched for an appropriate metaphor.

Or like a wedding ring, he supposed.

Crowley sagged in his chair.

“It’s Hell, angel.”

“What?” Aziraphale’s stomach sank.

“I mean, literally, Hell’s idea. A way, uh,” Crowley pulled at his collar, muttering at the floor. “A way of reminding me who I belong to.”

Oh.

“Crowley, this isn’t some kind of punishment, is it?” Aziraphale bit his lip, casting his eyes upwards. “For our, uh - you know?”

“Oh, well. No, I mean. The Arrangement - no one knows you’re involved, angel, don’t worry.” Crowley made a show of looking at his watch. It was new, large, and incredibly fancy. “Oh hey, look at the time, angel, I’d better be going.” The demon was already halfway across the room by the time he finished the sentence.

“Still on for the theater tomorrow?” Crowley called over his shoulder, jacket crumpled over his arm.

“Yes, but Crow - “

“Super! Great! See you later, angel.”

The door slammed shut.

“No one knows you’re involved, angel.”

But Crowley hadn’t said Hell didn’t suspect one of their own.

To cuff (v.): to handcuff. See: handcuff (v.)

To handcuff (v.):

1. to apply handcuffs

2. to hold in check; to make ineffective or powerless

They had both been cuffed, dragged to their respective organizations, wrists locked together, hands immobile, rough, celestial and demonic rope playing the part of handcuffs. An angel in the guise of a devil, at the mercy of Hell’s whims. A devil, masquerading as an angel, offering himself to a second Judgement.

A simple snap would have broken their bonds. The line between angel and demon was not the thick, measured boundary both sides pretended (they were of the same original stock, after all), but in this case, there was an important difference. Simply put, bindings for an angel would not contain a demon and vice versa.

There had been no other choice but to go ahead with the plan. If they ran, Heaven and Hell would follow, track them through every city, star system, every nebula of the universe. If they went to their respective offices as themselves, feigning contrition, they would be destroyed. And fighting, no matter how much Crowley protested otherwise, was not an option.

And so they went willingly, bound not in body, but to the promise they made each other.

To hold (v.):

1. to support in a particular position or keep from falling or moving

2. to cover (a part of the body) with one or both hands (as for protection or comfort)

3. to have or maintain in the grasp

It took a week after the cancelled Apocalypse for Crowley to break down.

Nothing of note had precipitated the event. They had gone to dinner - an adorable French cafe nestled at the edge of Hyde Park. It boasted a crepe bar, truffle gnocchi, and a delightful Rosemary Vesper cocktail, of which Crowley had partaken of three before hurriedly moving on to the wine list with more frantic zeal than seemed appropriate for the occasion.

Still, the dinner passed with idle conversation and the scraping of silverware, an altogether pleasant experience. Bellies full, they ambled through the park, Aziraphale chatting about nothing at all as the London sun gave up its struggle to break through the haze of mid-winter, ceding its territory to dusk, then to evening’s dark blanket.

A few ducks huddled near the Round Pond, no doubt to find warmth in the cooling air. Aziraphale envied their closeness, his gaze flitting towards the thin, shivering figure at his side. Ridiculous, really, to be jealous of animals only acting according to their nature.

Crowley shoved his hands further into his jacket pockets, shoulders taut, high around his ears.

“Crowley, is everything okay?” Aziraphale worried at his hands. The demon had been - well, for lack of a better word, off the whole night.

“Mmnnit’s fine, just a little chilly out here. You know, sssnake and all.” Crowley shrugged, kicking at some loose dirt.

“Really, Crowley just - “ In two steps Aziraphale was at Crowley’s side, arm poised above the demon’s shoulders, protective instinct hijacking his better judgement.

Crowley’s eyes went moon-wide.

And then the demon deflated, burying his face in his hands.

“I can’t do this anymore, angel.”

The next moment were a blur. Hands grabbed at thick, woolen clothing, wet eyes found sanctuary in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, mumbled, broken confessions whispered into his shoulder.

They were on the grass, Aziraphale leaning against a sturdy oak tree, a tangled mess of demon in his arms. The angel stroked the soft, fiery air, whispering nothing syllables as he held Crowley in his arms.

It’s going to be alright, he said. And for the first time in centuries, Aziraphale believes it.

To tie up (v.):

1) To restrain from normal movement.

Aziraphale tightened the final knot. The demon certainly wasn’t going anywhere. Not without his help, that was.

2) To keep busy.

The angel chuckled to himself, running a hand through Crowley’s hair, tugging lightly at the roots. They would both by rather busy for next few hours.

3) Preempt the use of

Yes, well, Aziraphale flushed. That was rather the point, was it not?

4) To connect closely

It was a gesture of trust, all of this, the way Crowley allowed himself wholly into Aziraphale’s care. It was a responsibility, a solemn duty, to be gifted with the small, glowing orb of Crowley’s trust, and Aziraphale swore to never breach, never break what he had been given. Later, he’ll wrap Crowley in his arms, when it was all done, when love poured from the demon in tired, euphoric waves, their limbs tangled together, cocooned by thick, soft duvets and softer emotions.

Aziraphale smiled.

To secure (v.): To make permanent.

Aziraphale held his hand to his face, silver band gleaming in the moonlight. Long fingers intertwined with his own, the metal of Crowley’s own ring cool against the angel’s lips.

“You’re trapped now, angel,” Crowley hummed, waggling his ring finger. “Shackled by a demon.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

legobiwan does whumptober

#WELL THAT HAPPENED #whumptober #whumptober 9 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens spam #yes i'm behind trying to catch up #i'm not sure if i will #whumptober might go into novemebr #i think i can churn out one more tonight but i gotta get to some applications first #as i listen to messiaen organ music #writing #the eternal struggle #honestly i'm not sure how much i like this one but i am committed to finishing this damn whumptober even if i do it late

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kylorenisintobdsm · 6 years

Text

The Bet, Chapter 3

Chapter: Three - Testing, 1, 2, 3

Rating: NC-17 for explicit language and acts.

Pairing(s): Keylo Ren/OFC, Poe Dameron/OFC

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars: The Last Jedi spoilers, Light BDSM, Mentions of Rape/Non-Con, Underage Prostitution, Size Kink, Size Differences, Dominance/Submission

Summary: Lieutenant Analiea is one of the last commanding officers left in the Resistance. She's chosen to complete a desperate, highly dangerous mission that inevitably fails and is captured by the First Order.

Kylo Ren is relentless in his need to find the remaining Resistance and stamp them out. He requires the information that is in Analiea's mind to do so but finds it difficult to rifle through the memories of a woman who has lived a difficult life and seen so much in a short amount of time.

Out of options, Kylo makes her an offer that she can't refuse.

Analiea has escaped one bet in her life already, and this one seems unfairly set up in her favor to win...

Chapters 4 and 5 can be found here!

Kylo Ren had nearly killed his General. His insolence could not be tolerated further, but another strike against the man and he would see Hux's neck rendered from his body and Lieutenant Mitaka as his more agreeable replacement. Kylo strode from the throne room he had used for their meeting with renewed confidence, his cowl billowing behind him as he left the redheaded man unconscious on the ground.

When he had made the announcement of Analiea's purpose in his quarters Hux had predictably given him grief. Already frustrated by his failure, Kylo had been in no mood to restrain himself. Comments about her appearance, his inability to coerce her, and his keeping of her had been out of line. Other commanding officers had been present for the brutal punishment these brought the General and Kylo felt certain that they would not dare harbor any similar sentiments.

When he entered his room, he stopped short at the sight of the woman in his bed.

Analiea was already asleep, so comfortable and spread out that one could assume she willingly shared a bed with him every night. She'd taken the liberty of using the refresher, it seemed, as well as pilfering a shirt from his closet. She looked peaceful under the black inkiness of his bed sheets, with clean, slightly wavy hair cascading over her shoulders and a single hand curled up around her face.

Kylo changed quietly into his sleeping pants, stripping himself of his restricting outfit and placing his heavy boots at the edge of the raised sleeping platform. Barefoot, he padded to what would be “his side” of the bed and grimaced down at the space she left him. He slid in beside her slowly, drinking in the vision of her body beside his own.

When she didn't respond to the gentle jostling, Kylo decided to test out how deep her sleep ran and reached out to gently stroke her collarbone. This familiar stranger in his bed, whose body he desired and whose mind he wanted to crack open like an egg, sighed in her sleep when his thumb rubbed a circle against her warm skin, leaning into him instinctively as though she longed for his touch.

He had unwittingly forged an emotional investment in this woman and wouldn't deny himself the benefits that came with her situation. Denial of what one wanted was a Jedi teaching, and Kylo Ren was no Jedi. He wanted her; he wanted her mouth, he wanted her hair, he wanted her sighs and her looks and her filthy words gasping in his ear. He only needed to find a way to make her reciprocate in earnest.

Analiea's dark eyebrows drew together and she tightened the fetal position she was in, drawing her legs to her body. Kylo gently maneuvered her closer until her lips were inches away from brushing against his pectoral muscles, her soft breaths fanning out against his chest.

He studied her without reservation and felt himself hardening again. A woman like her could have her pick of men, yet here she was with him. Now that she was clean, her skin glowed like she'd swallowed the sun. Not a single scar or blemish marred her face and her long eyelashes cast little pinpricks of shadows underneath her eyes. Her sleeping image portrayed an innocence that she no longer possessed, painting her in a virginal light. The instinct to ruin something so pure was strong in him.

It was torturous to have her so close to him but not be able to truly touch her. The warmth of her body stoked his own and her flat stomach occasionally brushed against his erection when she adjusted herself, making him bite back a groan from the friction. After long moments of staring, burning her image into his mind, Kylo exited the bed and went to the refresher to relieve himself of the ache in his sac.

Analiea had slept so peacefully next to him. When she awoke with her ass pressed against his hips and his arm heavily draped across the slope of her hip, she didn't even experience the urge to shove him away. She felt safe for the first time in a long time, even though she knew she was as far from safe as she could be.

He came to shortly after her with a beeping of an alarm and they both stretched like two sandcats, joints popping and yawning softly in unison as their bodies bowed against each other. He rose first and she watched him walk around the bed to the refresher, admiring the sharp V of his hips with unguarded appreciation. She wondered if he would have difficulty urinating with the morning erection she'd felt against her and barely smothered a smug smile.

Droids delivered breakfast and set the table for two. The energy between them, on his part, turned awkward after they sat down together to eat. He seemed to be thinking at length about something. Her appetite was immense, but still she paced herself, taking only small bits of brightly colored fruits. He watched her in silence, the look on his face unreadable.

Perhaps it was the misplaced normalcy of their situation that made him uncomfortable. Most would think it an unbelievable circumstance, one that could never be made to work between a prisoner and captor, but the ease of their cohabitation was largely thanks to her ability to adapt and compartmentalize. Out of all her skills, she thought, it was what she did the very best.

In order to not show her resentment towards him, she chose to buy into the fantasy of having a peaceful meal with the man she had spent the night with. It was more enjoyable that way, and it was what he wanted. Finding a way to escape would depend on giving him exactly that.

Analiea stole glances at him in between bites of oatmeal. The artificial light of his quarters lit up the dark hollows of his face, highlighting his strong chin and narrow cheeks, the deep set of his eyes and the prominence of his lips. She noticed things about him now that she hadn't before. His nose was long and slightly large, and his ears – although partially hidden behind his hair – were a little over-sized as well. She found she liked these traits the most and smiled again, turning her attention back to her bowl. Two meals in a row had significantly improved the state of her mood, it seemed.

He set a hand on the table next to her own, drumming his fingers absentmindedly, and she stared at it in mild fascination. The size of his palm was almost double her own. He was so fucking big compared to her, and he radiated strength. She held the illusion of leverage, and that was all. If he were a lesser man, she wouldn't have been able to capitalize on his need for consent, and he would have easily – and painfully – taken what he wanted.

The thought should have grounded her from the fantasy, should have reminded her that she was sharing a meal with the enemy, but instead it made her clench her naked thighs when a trickle of moisture slid between the folds of her pussy. Her body was a treacherous thing but she was no stranger to its combining of fear and lust.

“I have meetings to attend to this morning,” Kylo Ren told her suddenly, his deep voice startling her from her thoughts.

“Servants will be by sometime today to take your measurements and gather clothes for you. Let them know exactly what you want. Whatever you choose will be delivered with dinner.”

She remembered the way that he wanted to be addressed, so she dutifully replied, “Yes, sir.”

He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looked away quickly. Oh, she could tell that he really, really liked it when she called him that with sincerity. He turned his gaze back to her and she thought she might fall into a puddle at the sight of his molten brown eyes, so vivid and warm.

“You will not explore the Supremacy today. You'll stay in here and wait for my return.”

Petulance assailed her and she bared her teeth in response. “That's not what we agreed on -”

“Enough!” he interrupted, the hand on the table curling quickly into a fist. He'd obviously been preparing for this very argument. Energy radiated from him, cracking like electricity against her skin and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“You will not have free roam today. I'm not reneging on our agreement, but it is the safest course of action for you at the moment. I have to find guards that I trust to chaperon you.”

“For one day,” Analiea stipulated, rising to her feet.

“One week,” he countered coolly, standing as well.

Anger caused her chest to rise and fall quickly, pushing her breasts out with every inhalation. He stood close enough that she could feel her nipples graze his naked torso, scratching the hard, sensitive nubs against the fabric of her tunic. He leaned forward slightly, seeking to crowd her with his bigger body and intimidate her into agreement, but that wasn't going to work with her.

“Please sir,” she said sweetly, stepping forward to press herself against him in earnest. She hooked one of his large fingers with her pinky, connecting them. “That's too long. I'll lose my mind here by myself.”

Kylo Ren reached out with his other hand and cupped her cheek, sliding slowly down to the dip of her throat. His eyes were intense, and searching her face for a reaction. He didn't grasp her neck again, didn't even make a motion to squeeze it, but she immediately understood his meaning.

Do not try and manipulate me this way, little girl.

“Three days, then,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Analiea swallowed the barbs on her tongue with difficulty, leaving a sullen look on her face.

Kylo sighed and released her. “I have other duties that will make this a time-consuming task. I need good men at your side when you wander this ship, ones that will not try to abuse or neglect you. I will have to be scrupulous.”

“How kind of you,” she answered, “to make sure my escorts won't rape me in your absence. Are there so few Stormtroopers in your employment that fail to reach your own standards, Supreme Leader?”

Kylo Ren gave a small smile and walked around her, taking long, heavy strides before he dropped down to her height and whispered in her ear. “You have no idea, Lieutenant.”

Three service droids came immediately after he left her. They were verbal units, able to communicate with her like C-3PO, and humanoid in their silvery appearance. They were very courteous and as interested in conversation as C-3P0 had been. They took their time going through catalogs together, allowing her to select what she liked, making the odd suggestion here and there.

Analiea made sure she chose the finest of everything; jewelry, toiletries, shoes, underwear...She would spend every blood-stained credit of the First Order's that she could at every opportunity.

The droids teamed up to measure her body, making small talk as they took in the size of her hips, waist, and bust. Analiea was happy to chat with them while they worked, but they were afraid to linger with her for too long. They had brought in a happy, simplistic energy into the dark space around her, and when they left only the yawning emptiness of Kylo Ren's quarters remained.

Lunch came and went, but this time she ate more than before, testing the limits of her stomach. She found she enjoyed soups most of all, dipping in thick-cuts of bread with vigor, substituting it for a spoon as she fished out chunks of vegetables and meat. After eating she went through his library, selecting a hefty novel with ancient yellow paper, then draped herself dramatically from the edge of his bed to read.

Before she knew it, the doors opened and an in flooded a dozen shining droids. The first nine carried with them black boxes of varying sizes, some so large that it took two at a time to maneuver them, while the last three pushed dinner in on a steaming silver cart. The servants opened the packages with her, applauding her exclamations of excitement when she pulled dress after dazzling dress from within.

The jewelry she chose stunned her in person; headpieces, chokers, collars, necklaces, wristbands, and body pieces, all encrusted with rare jewels that reminded her of forests, oceans, and suns. A few she plucked out of their boxes to drape across her neck before gently setting them back inside.

Analiea might very well be on her way to being his whore, but at least she was being paid well. These material items were bittersweet rewards. When she escaped, these outfits were coming with her, one way or another.

She felt Kylo Ren's presence first, his dark energy rising up to swallow the joy in the room like the moons on Ynu blotted out the sun. He stood in the open doorway; hands clasped behind his back, feet spread apart, large and terrifying without a word. The droids quieted immediately and cowed at the sight of him, slowly backing away from her to place her gifts in neat stacks on the floor before filing past him.

Once they were all gone he entered his quarters, the doors hissing behind him sharply as they closed. She knew immediately that he was not in a good mood. He glanced at her once, then at the packages before choosing to walk past them both to sit in his seat at the table.

“Why aren't you dressed?” he asked sharply. Did he find it so distasteful for her to run around before him in an old tunic? One would think the man would enjoy the knowledge of having the woman he wanted draped in something of his and nothing else. Her legs were bare from mid-thigh down and she wore no underwear beneath it. Was she not up to par to be his plaything as she was?

“Well, sir,” she said curtly, “as you can see, I only have recently received the clothes that were promised to me. Perhaps if you'd let me know what you would like to see me in best, I could arrange that for you.”

He was sick in the head to be so infatuated with her this quickly, that fact was indisputable. All day long he'd done nothing but think back to their morning together and imagine it ending differently, with him pushing that ugly tunic of his up her hips and swatting her round ass in punishment. She'd tested his patience with her but daddy, please ploy and he'd barely kept himself from doing just that.

He wouldn't have stopped if he had. He'd have pinned her to the table and feasted on her pussy until her juices pooled in the floor, then slid his cock inside her after forcing her to turn to the wall and present her reddened ass. She looked too good in such a horrid thing, too bright and wild to be contained. She needed the elegance of a dress to remind him to treat her like a lady, for now.

When her clothing order had come across his datapad, he'd barely blinked at the cost. He knew from her memories that she would take whatever she wanted if given enough leeway. He'd added a few outfits in for his enjoyment after reviewing the rest, then accepted it all.

His search for suitable guards for her had not gone well. Hux was trying very hard not to voice his displeasure at the use of his men, but when Kylo insulted every single one he came across by rejecting them, they'd exchanged some very terse words, the General always one step away from impertinence.

Kylo knew the thoughts of each man Hux brought to him and listened to none of their accomplishments the fool rattled off. Several of the Stormtroopers had already seen Analiea and had their own personal ideas about her - ideas that would most assuredly get them killed. He would review a new unit tomorrow and hopefully not find their desires quite so prevalent. Attraction to her couldn't be helped, but some of the images they'd conjured with minimal provocation nearly had them strangled simply for existing.

He'd been eager to see her dressed and waiting for him and had been disappointed to find she had only just begun to rummage through the deliveries. Snide remarks aside, he felt relieved to finally be back in his quarters with her. She was easily the most interesting part of his day.

“There's a red dress,” he answered her. “Try that one on for tonight.”

Analiea brushed her hair to one side, eyeing him quickly over her shoulder before she bent over to search. The action hit him in the gut; he'd completely forgotten she didn't have anything else on underneath and was now being graced with a perfect view of her naked ass.

He groaned softly, hoping she couldn't hear him. Each cheek was large enough to fit in one of his hands comfortably and the thought of palming that giving flesh sent blood surging straight to his cock. When she adjusted and tilted a hip, the tiniest glint of pink – the same pink as her mouth, no less – flashed from between her thighs, showing him the wetness of her pussy. Kylo ground a fist into his palm, cracking his knuckles in a desperate effort to focus on something else.

What in the hell was he doing, forcing this woman to dress? If anything he should be commanding her to remove the tunic completely, to let him see all that he could win by simply giving in to the outrageous need she stoked in him. He regretted buying her any clothing at all for the sole fact it would hide such unbidden glimpses in the future.

It took Analiea a few minutes to find it; she spoke aloud to herself about each item, praising the quality of the fabrics and the brightness of the colors, but when she found the one he wanted she fell silent in awe.

“Oh,” she breathed as she pulled it from its package. “I'll be back!” she cried, dashing to the refresher to change.

Kylo jolted forward in response, nearly demanding her to stay and strip for him, but forced himself to relax in his seat. The woman had him primed and she hadn't even noticed. Their dinner was getting cold but he found he was hungry for something far more satisfying than food.

#kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #fan fiction #supreme leader kylo ren #star wars #star wars: the force awakens #star wars: the last jedi #star wars fanfic #kylo ren/ofc #kylo ren x ofc #ben solo #ben solo x ofc #poe dameron #the first order

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sushigirlali · 7 years

Text

Finding You - Part IV (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX

Summary: Unseen forces move against Kylo Ren from within the First Order as he struggles to unravel Snoke’s deceptions / Rey must balance her relationship with Ben Solo and her dedication to the cause that opposes him / Leia Organa makes a desperate plea to an old friend in a last ditch effort to restore the Resistance. Pairing: Rey x Kylo Ren/Ben Solo [Reylo] [ReyBen] Continuity: Set directly after Star Wars: Episode VIII - The Last Jedi ends. Warnings: There will be a lemon in Part II. Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything that relates to Star Wars.

A/N: Surprise! I’m back again with some more Relyo goodness. The next three parts of this fic will be paired with the song Learn To Let Go by Kesha from the Rainbow album. If you couldn’t tell, I love Kesha, and her newest album inspires me a lot. I fell deep down the character development hole this chapter, but I think it adds a lot to the story. Hope y’all agree! You can find me on FanFiction.net as sushigirlali as well. Enjoy!

Finding You - Part IV By: sushigirlali

Been a prisoner of the past Had a bitterness when I looked back Was telling everyone it's not that bad 'Til all my shit hit the fan

Ben wiped the sweat from his brow as Ahch-To’s dual suns settled high in the sky. He knew he shouldn’t complain, Rey had grown up in the scorching Jakku desert after all, but the heat was starting to get to him. His shirt was sticking to his skin, making it uncomfortable to continue breaking rocks in the dusty quarry.

At first, Ben assumed that Poe had assigned him such a menial task for spiteful reasons, but after spending some time with the Resistance, Ben knew the truth: there were simply too few people to do all the work that needed to be done.

Not everyone had a roof over their heads, like the hut he shared with Rey, so Ben understood the importance of building more shelters. Especially since the island temple was prone to bouts of heavy rainfall with little to no warning.

So, Ben took a swig of water and bent to pick up his discarded sledgehammer. As he stood up again, a figure to his left caught his eye. Finn was walking into the quarry, flinging off his signature jacket as he went. He didn’t seem to notice Ben, but instead marched over to a large collection of boulders and started smashing them at an alarming pace. He seemed to be working out his aggression on the rocks.

Ben smirked. He could relate to that. Before Rey, he was disposed to act out in extreme violence whenever his emotions got the best of him. Now, however, he just talked out whatever was bothering him with her. She had changed his life in more ways than he could count.

Something big must be bothering Finn, maybe something to do with Rose? Ben debated if he should try to ask Finn about it or not. While Finn hadn’t been openly hostile to him, he was still wary around Ben. Not that Ben blamed him. Their last meeting before he joined the Resistance had been at the point of a lightsaber, after all.

In fact, he had yet to apologize to Finn about the incident. Rey said it was important to make amends in order to move forward. Deciding to reach out, Ben put down the hammer again and walked toward the former stormtrooper cautiously.

“Finn.” Ben called out clearly.

Finn paused in his work, panting hard. Turning, his eyebrows rose in surprise as Ben neared.

“What’s up?” Finn asked guardedly.

“What did those rocks do to deserve such a beating?” Ben joked, trying for levity.

“Ha—very funny.” Finn chuckled, relaxing a bit. “I’m just blowing off some steam.”

“Anything you want to…talk about?” Ben invited uncertainly.

“Not really.” Finn laughed. “Anyway, I’m don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me.” Ben said, a little insulted.

Finn looked at him seriously, as if contemplating how to respond. Just as Ben opened his mouth to recuse himself, Finn spoke up.

“Alright.” Finn said. “You promise not to say anything? I usually talk to Rey about this kind of stuff, but she’s busy right now.”

Ben nodded.

“Alright.” Finn said again. “Rose kind of told me that she loves me a while ago, but I haven’t said it back yet. And we had a fight about it. So, that’s why I said you wouldn’t understand. You and Rey are so in love it’s disgusting sometimes. But I’m not sure exactly what I feel yet. I don’t have the Force to guide me.”

Ben digested Finn’s words, a few of them sticking out to him. “How long is ‘a while ago?’”

“Ah—well…she said it while we were fighting the First Order on Crait.” He admitted.

“That was over two weeks ago, Finn.” Ben said dryly.

“Well, I mean, it wasn’t exactly an opportune moment, and she did pass out right afterword.” Finn defended himself.

“No wonder you’re in so much trouble.” Ben ribbed.

“Well, what should I do then, since you know so much about the subject?” Finn huffed.

“First of all, you need to figure out if you love Rose or not. It’s not fair to string her along if you don’t, but it’s equally unfair to hold back when she’s opening up to you if you do.” Ben advised. Having never been in a relationship before Rey, he hoped he sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

Finn blew out a harsh breath. “I mean I—of course I have feelings for her. Rose is amazing! But she’s only the second girl I’ve met, so how do I know that she’s the one, or whatever?”

“It’s easier for Rey and I, since we’re connected through the Force. I know that she loves me, and she knows that I love her. There’s no hiding it. But that’s not how most relationships work.” Ben acknowledged.

“Tell me about it.” Finn scoffed.

“Finn, either you know your own mind or you don’t.” Ben said frankly. “I can’t tell you what you do or do not feel. Search your feelings, and I’m sure you’ll discover the truth.”

Finn was quiet for so long that Ben began to think he’d overstepped his bounds. And then Finn held out his hand.

“Thanks, Ben.” Finn said sincerely, shaking his former enemy’s hand.

“Uh—no problem.” Ben said awkwardly. “Listen. There’s something else I wanted to say.”

Finn looked at him inquiringly.

“I apologize for attempting to kill you on Starkiller Base.” Ben said formally.

Finn laughed in surprise. “Well, I’ve already forgiven you for that. You’re different now, and believe me, I’ve been watching. But I trust Rey and, well, she trusts you. So, I guess that means I do too. But thanks for the apology! And the advice! I’m going to go find Rose now, and see if she’ll forgive me. See you later!”

Ben watched, a little dumbfounded, as Finn picked up his jacket, waved over his shoulder, and raced back toward the living quarters. Shaking his head in amused relief, Ben picked up the sledgehammer again. There was still work to do.

I know I'm always like Telling everybody you don't gotta be a victim Life ain't always fair, but hell is living in resentment Choose redemption, your happy ending's up to you

Rey listened intently as Leia and Poe discussed their plan to meet up with Lando Calrissian in Cloud City. She was surprised to be included in this closed strategy session, and even more shockingly, so had Ben. He was running late, so they had started without him.

“While I trust Lando, his security has been—uh—compromised before.” Leia said delicately.

“And by that you mean he betrayed you to Darth Vader the first time you met.” Poe responded sardonically.

“That was a long time ago, and he more than redeemed himself.” Leia dismissed. “Nevertheless, we should take precautions.”

“What do you have in mind?” Poe asked. “We could rig some explosives on—”

“No, Poe. No explosives! We don’t want to blow up our benefactor’s city the moment we arrive.” Leia cut him off.

Poe rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“I think we should leave Ben on the Falcon once we reach Bespin. The First Order doesn’t know that he’s joined us, so I believe it’s best we keep that information secret for as long as possible.” Leia proposed.

“He won’t like that.” Rey interjected.

“No, he won’t.” Leia agreed. “However, I think we need an ace up our sleeve in case things go south.”

“Yeah, that could work.” Poe said thoughtfully. “Rey, Finn, and I will be your forward protection, and Ben can be the back-up.”

“Excuse me?” Ben said sharply, entering the Millennium Falcon’s lounge, now the de facto command center.

“Ben, join us.” Leia invited pleasantly.

Ben moved to stand by Rey, who immediately took his hand in hers. He hadn’t had a violent outburst since coming to Ahch-To, so Rey had the feeling this meeting was a kind of test. Like when Poe attempted to rile Ben the first night he switched sides. She sincerely hoped that he would pass with flying colors.

“Why do you want me to stay behind? I’m the best fighter here, next to Rey.” Ben asked directly.

“Ben, I think it would be best to conceal your defection from the First Order for now. There could be spies in Cloud City, it’s happened before, so I’d like you to remain on the Millennium Falcon for the duration of the mission.” Leia explained carefully.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” Ben’s voice shook slightly.

Rey could hear the hurt in his voice, so she sent him warmth and reassurance through their link. He squeezed her hand in return. She leaned towards him a bit and sniffed appreciatively. He must have taken a bath recently. Not that she should be noticing things like that during an important meeting, Rey chastised herself. Leia snapped her back into focus.

“No, sweetheart.” Leia denied softly. “But if we get into trouble, we need someone to save us. You’re the person I trust to do so.”

“Do you really believe that First Order spies could have invaded Calrissian’s ranks?” Ben asked his mother.

“Yes, I consider it to be very likely.” Leia replied honestly.

“And you’re confident that you can protect my mother?” Ben directed at Poe.

“She’s my first priority. I’ll keep her safe.” Poe promised.

“Ben, you can monitor us through our bond.” Rey contributed. “That way you’ll know what’s happening at all times.”

Ben looked at Rey. “Do you think this is a good plan?”

“I do.” Rey affirmed, biting her lip thoughtfully. “If nothing goes wrong, we’ve been overly cautious. But if something does happen, we’ll need a way out.”

“…Alright.” He agreed at last. “But I want to know the entire plan, from start to finish. And if I feel like anything is off once we reach Cloud City, the Falcon won’t hold me.”

The tension in the room eased, and his mother came forward smiling.

“Of course, my son, that’s perfectly reasonable.” Leia said. “Come now, I’ll show you everything.”

I think it's time to practice what I preach Exorcise the demons inside me Whoa, gotta learn to let it go

Ben paced the length of their small hut, going over the plan in his mind. So many variables. So many potential dangers. When he was with the First Order, when he was Kylo Ren, he went into battle with an army at his back. Now, however, he was relegated to being the last case scenario for a Resistance that barely trusted him.

“Why were you late to the meeting?” Rey asked from the bed, bringing him out of his musings.

“I lost track of time in the quarry. Finn showed up and we got to talking before I had finished for the day.” He said, watching as she unfurled a thick quilted blanket.

She paused in her task, looking astonished. “You and Finn talked? Was it about Rose again?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say we were—ugh—bonding.” Ben teased, recalling her words from the other day. “Apparently Rose told him she loved him a few weeks ago but, as of this afternoon, he hadn’t responded in kind.”

“That idiot.” Rey said crossly. “No wonder they’ve been arguing so much.”

“True enough. It must be difficult for him to make personal connections on that level, though, considering his upbringing.” Ben said soberly.

“What do you mean?” Rey questioned, looking puzzled.

“Rey, he was raised as a stormtrooper.” Ben said gently.

“I know that, he told me as much on Takodana.” Rey asserted.

“And do you know what being a stormtrooper entails?” He didn’t look forward to telling her.

“Well, he said he was taken from his family as a child, and raised by the First Order. I know that he was in charge of sanitation, and had only been on one combat mission. The one that led to his defection.” Rey recalled. “But why would that stop him from sharing his feelings with Rose?”

“Rey, he wasn’t just taken, he was kidnapped. His family was likely murdered in the process on some unfortunate Outer Rim colony. Finn was stripped of his given name and assigned the designation FN-2187.” Ben relayed, trying to keep his voice even. Remembering his part in all this was painful. “He was then trained under the supervision of Phasma, the most ruthless commander in the First Order. Stormtroopers aren’t allowed to be individuals, they aren’t able to form close relationships. They are simply part of a whole; part of the war machine.”

Ben sat down on the bed, pulling a stunned Rey into his arms.

“He’s never said…I didn’t know.” Rey looked horrified, tears spilling from her wide hazel eyes. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because he’s not ready to. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.” Ben’s lips twisted in self-recrimination. “It’s hard to admit past mistakes to the people we care most about. It’s even more difficult to admit to the things that we had no control over.”

“But I should have asked him about it, about his past. He’s my best friend and I feel like I’ve let him down.” Rey lamented.

“I’m sure he’ll talk to you when he’s ready.” Ben reassured her.

“Ben, did you…were you involved in abducting children for the First Order?” Rey asked hoarsely.

“No, I wasn’t complicit in that branch of operations. Still, I didn’t try to stop it either.” Ben shook his head. “I should have done something. I was so absorbed in my own pain that I ignored the suffering of others.”

Rey pulled back, wiping her red-rimmed eyes. “We can’t allow the First Order to continue. We have to destroy them.”

“I agree. And we will. Together.” Ben said, tenderly pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you for telling me the truth.” Rey said sleepily.

“I’ll never lie to you.” Ben promised.

“I know.” She smiled.

Rey finished unfolding the quit and pulled Ben down to lay beside her. She pillowed her head on his bicep, throwing an arm over his chest. Ben stretched, getting comfortable, and pulled the thick blanket over them both.

“Are you ready for the mission tomorrow?” Rey enquired.

“I’m still not comfortable with staying on the Falcon, but I’ll follow orders all the same.” Ben affirmed.

“I think Leia’s motives are purely about giving us an advantage, but Poe, well…” Rey sighed.

“Dameron still doesn’t trust me.” Ben finished for her. “Not that I blame him.”

“It’s going to take time, Ben. The things you’ve done…” Rey trailed off sadly.

“I know.” Ben murmured desolately.

“Ben, look at me.” Rey said, turning his cheek. “I feel your honest contrition. I know that you want to do better, to be better. Don’t prove it to them, or me, but to yourself. They’ll come around eventually.”

“When I close my eyes I can see the faces of everyone I’ve killed, of everyone I’ve hurt with my actions. I was a fool to believe that Luke truly betrayed me, but it seemed too real at the time.” Ben confessed.

“Snoke stoked your fear, Ben. He fed on it.” Rey excused sympathetically.

“It wasn’t just Snoke. I had…friends at Luke’s academy. We were all troubled, and a bad influence on each other. I knew it then, but I wanted to be accepted. They looked up to me because of my lineage, because of Luke. Little did they know, weakness runs deep in my family.” Ben said in self-disgust.

“You’re not weak!” Rey objected. “You were scared, and angry, when you turned on Luke, but never weak. Leaving the First Order, seeking redemption, that takes strength!”

“Loving you gives me strength.” Ben countered, kissing her softly.

“You make me crazy sometimes, but I feel the same way.” Rey laughingly replied.

Ben hugged her close, like a talisman of protection. With Rey in his life, he could see the difference between right and wrong. It made the memories of his atrocities that much more terrible, yet showed him the correct path forward at the same time. He had to learn from his mistakes in order to break the cycle of violence that had taken over his life as Kylo Ren. He only hoped that he didn’t drag Rey down with him like he had his school friends.

“I ended up ruining their lives.” Ben murmured unconsciously.

“Your friends? What happened to them?” Rey queried.

“Some of them died, the rest….” He eyes closed in pain.

“You don’t have to tell me now.” Rey said comfortingly. “But, I’m here when you’re ready.”

“I love you, Rey.” Ben whispered.

“I love you too.” She answered, curling closer.

And then they slept.

The past can't haunt me if I don't let it Live and learn and never forget it Whoa, gotta learn to let it go

Since the Millennium Falcon was a bit cramped for the few dozen remaining Resistance members to congregate in effectively, Leia and Poe were holding the final mission briefing outside. The benches within the halo of huts served as the meeting location.

“I can’t stress how important this mission is.” Leia stated frankly. “We’re hanging on by a thread, but I still have hope that we will succeed in destroying the First Order, once and for all. To that end, we will need every ally we can gather. Commander Dameron will now go over the details for a final time.”

Poe stepped forward, motioning for BB-8 to follow him. The droid rolled into position and projected a star map of the galaxy, zooming in on the route between Ahch-To and Bespin.

“We have just enough fuel to get to Bespin. Lando has guaranteed the Falcon will be refueled and restocked with provisions after we land. While General Organa, Lieutenants Finn, Rey, and Solo, Chewbacca, and I are in Cloud City, Commander D'Acy and Lieutenant Connix will be in charge here on Ahch-To.” Poe informed them.

Ben’s head shot up at the mention of his name. Dameron’s designation of rank surprised him; since when had he been made a Lieutenant? The title was a sign of respect and authority, badges of honor he didn’t think he had earned yet. Rey moved closer to him, as if sensing his disquiet, bringing his attention back to the Commander’s speech.

“This is a diplomatic mission, but there is a high probability that First Order agents could be present in Cloud City. As a result, General Organa will act as ambassador, while Lieutenants Rey and Finn and I serve as her security detail. Lieutenant Solo will stay with the ship to expedite refueling, and act as back-up should the need arise.” Poe explained.

It still bothered Ben that he had to sit on the side lines, but at least he’d be on hand. It would have driven him crazy to wait on Ahch-To while Rey and his mother were in a potentially dangerous location without him.

“We expect this mission will only take a few days, and will update Commander D'Acy if the timetable changes. Please continue to work on the new structures and building up the food stores until we return with more supplies.” Poe took a deep breath, looking less than confident for the first time. “In the case of an attack on the planet while we’re on Bespin, we won’t be here to help you. Please confer with Lieutenant Connix for the agreed upon action plan.”

There were worried murmurs in the crowd at Dameron’s sober pronouncement. Not that he blamed them, Dameron wasn’t offering any hopeful alternatives. But he could.

Ben stood up, drawing Poe’s attention. “Commander, may I put in a suggestion.”

Poe raised his eyebrows, but motioned for him to continue.

“We can use the command shuttle in case an evacuation is required. It is equipped with the best hyperdrive on the market, and there is plenty of space for everyone here, including emergency supplies.” Ben offered.

“I—of course, that’s the perfect solution.” Poe said in amazement.

“We would never had presumed to volunteer your ship, Ben. Thank you.” Leia said gratefully.

“It’s not my ship anymore.” Ben said firmly. “It belongs to the Resistance.”

Ben could see Rey beaming up at him in his periphery, while his mother had tears in her eyes. He hoped that the rest of the Resistance would also see that he was making an effort, that they could put their trust in him.

“Alright, Ben, please go over basic operations with Lieutenant Connix before we take off.” Poe directed.

Ben nodded and sat down again. Rey slipped her arm through his, leaning against him.

“I love you.” She whispered.

Ben titled his head against hers, brushing her cheek with a kiss. He was glad that he could contribute to the cause, if only in this small way. He felt worthwhile, needed, by more than just Rey. Things he hadn’t felt since childhood. This is what life was really like, living in the light. He never wanted to sink back into darkness again.

“Hold up!” Poe called as Ben left Connix in charge of the command shuttle.

“Yes, Commander?” Ben asked formally.

“Poe. Call me Poe.” He replied with a chuckle. “Here, I wanted to give you these before we leave.”

Poe handed him a satchel of clothing.

“What’s this for?” Ben inquired.

“I thought you might want to wear something a little less conspicuous. Your signature black robes are well…they stick out.” Poe said wryly.

Ben cracked a smile. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

He unwrapped the folded clothing, surprised to find a finely made pair of dark blue pants, a crisp white shirt, and a heavy taupe leather jacket.

“Where did you get these?” Ben asked, his heart stopping as he recognized the style.

“They were your fathers. Leia kept them for you in case you came home one day.” Poe answered simply.

Emotion surged inside Ben: guilt, pain, love…he nearly staggered from the rush of feelings.

“Are you okay?” Poe asked in concern.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Ben said thickly, collecting himself. He held out his hand. “Thank you.”

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome.” Poe said sheepishly, accepting the handshake. “There’s—ah—there’s something else I thought you should have.”

Poe reached around and pulled out an old DL-44 model heavy blaster pistol from his waistband.

“It’s not your father’s exact pistol—that one was destroyed on Starkiller Base—but this is the same make and model. Chewy said that Han modified this one too. For you.” Poe handed him the weapon.

Ben stared at the familiar pistol in shock. Even up to the moment of his death, Han Solo had never lost faith in his son. He had believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that Kylo Ren would become Ben Solo again. Ben looked at the gifts reverently, choking up.

“I can never repay you for this.” Ben said gruffly.

“Sure, you can,” Poe smiled, “by fighting like hell against the First Order.”

“I will.” Ben swore. “Until my dying breath.”

“Well, let’s not get too maudlin now. I intend for every Resistance fighter to live a long, happy, and free life.” Poe said confidently. “Now, go get changed and meet me back at the Falcon in ten. We’ve got work to do.”

A/N: I really wanted to work on Ben’s relationships with Finn and Poe in this chapter. I have a feeling that Episode IX won’t have much time for this, but it’s important to Ben’s redemption arc in my opinion. He needs to feel connected to people, to care about them, because I believe that love and friendship are the only things that can beat the pull of the dark side. But then, I’m a total sap, so!! Please review!

A little something extra!

Kylo: Why do you make me talk about my feelings all the time? Ali: Because suppressing your feelings is part of the reason you went cocoa bananas in the first place. Kylo: But you hate feelings in real life! Ali: This isn’t about me! And this isn’t real life! Kylo: Ali, you think everything is about you. Ali: Okay, fair enough.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #leia organa #poe dameron #finn #rose tico #my fanfiction #finding you

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oneweekoneband · 7 years

Video

youtube

Ninety One, “Mooz” (мұз), from Qarangy Zharyq, 2017

(Warning: flashing lights around two minutes in; also, some violence. Here’s the audio-only video.)

But, like, it’s still just a band: they were never actually protecting anybody or setting anyone free. (from a post by @whitehotharlots)

To make a long story short: about five years ago I fell in love with a pop group. Like spending-hours-on-Tumblr-learning-all-the-in-jokes love. Like imagination-run-wild love. Like as-opposed-to-grief, as-opposed-to-despair love. But once the initial euphoria-through-learning-through-euphoria phase had run its course, the love was a static thing, directionless. One of the great pleasures of love is doing things for the beloved; but what, exactly, was I supposed to do?

The company, and the performers themselves, said: buy our albums! Stream our songs! Help us win awards at music shows! Come to our concerts! And I did those things; but trying to think of them as expressions of love left me feeling inadequate and a little sordid. Other options were to leave messages and hearts on their livestreams, and I occasionally did that too, using Google Translate to turn “I hope you’re doing well” and “Thank you for your hard work” into Korean, but thousands of other fans had the same idea, and the resulting rush of love felt impersonal, statistical. They, the performers, had no way to know who we, the fans, were; and furthermore any attempts on our part to make them know would be so forced as to violate the very spirit of love that had prompted the attempt in the first place. Each of us was speaking singularly and truly, but the sameness of our language, and the volume of our messages, flattened us out.

What can I do? I kept asking. Which is another way of saying How much power do I have?

We (who have the ability to get online) have a strange relationship to power, in this day and age. Entire books have been written about how people with ostensibly enviable amounts of power might not feel secure enough to actually accomplish anything. (The late Benazir Bhutto apparently once said: “I’m in office, but I’m not in power.” The quote came up in a discussion of Aung San Suu Kyi’s responsibility for stopping the ethnic cleansing of the Rohingya.) Meanwhile those of us with less formal titles are nevertheless capable of possibly destroying people’s reputations with a single Tweet, or perpetuating unjust systems simply by growing up in them. It feels like we have a great deal of power, wanted or not, to do harm; and seemingly much less power to do good.

That becomes even more pronounced in pop fandom. We want to believe, so badly, that we have the power to do good things for our faves, or at least make them feel loved and valued. But our attempts at exercising our power frequently add up to very little, at best. We also want to believe, so badly, that we can do good with pop music, support the virtuous and punish the wicked; but that, too, carries the risk of being much ado about nothing, or degenerating into a series of sniping wars where everyone’s fave is problematic and no one has any self-respect left.

That pop group I fell in love with wasn’t Ninety One, by the way. When I started writing about Ninety One I said cheerfully to friends: “Oh, I’m not, like, emotionally involved here. These guys are fun and cute but this is just a fun intellectual activity, a side way of getting at some of these questions I’ve had. I’m not crying or anything, thank goodness.” Please remind me I said this next time I try to give you a stock tip.

In my defense, I said it before “Mooz” came out, which is to say before I realized Ninety One was thinking about power and doing good too.

***

I haven’t seen the movie yet. Reportedly NTK, a channel with which Ninety One has struck some sort of deal, is promising to put it online at some point (most likely with Russian, but not English, subtitles). I assume bootlegs are traveling around YouTube. A lot of the footage in the “Mooz” video was already featured in the two-minute trailer uploaded to Ninety One’s YouTube channel in early August.

It’s the story of the first couple years of Ninety One, but not a documentary; rather, it’s a docudrama, with scenes acted out by the guys themselves months after the fact, but everything based on What Actually Happened--90% true, I’ve seen Kazakhstani Eaglez say. I’m not sure how great an idea it was, mental-health-wise, to have the members re-enact confrontations with would-be rioters during the 2016 tour, let alone whatever happened to prompt AZ to put a gun to his head. But even if I’m right (and I’m speaking with my own understandings of what happened and how it got processed, which could very well be way off the mark), something can be emotionally costly to create and still be worth it.

Without knowing about the 2016 tour, “Mooz” is hard to understand, since it’s not a typical believe-in-yourself song. It’s subdued. Ace has the chorus, but he sure isn’t belting. Bala has “I have a dream,” but he prefaces his lines with a little chuckle, as if he’s somewhat amused by all the twists and turns this star-in-a-pop-group idea has taken him on. AZ’s rap is pure lament. Alem at one point just flat-out stops lip-syncing and simply stares into the camera, looking devastated and unsure.

There’s a sense of uncertainty in the wake of damage done. Ace keeps singing, Мүмкін күн шыққанға дейін, бірге күте тұрамыз? The official English translation is “Let’s wait together until the sun rises.” The Russian lyrics, similarly, drop the question: Может вместе подождем, пока солнце не взойдет. “Maybe together we’ll wait until the sun rises.” (Says Google Translate.) But in the original Ace is asking a question: can we wait together until the sun rises? Is that even possible? And AZ continues: the whole world, in fact, we are strangers to each other? The members’ collective sense of their own ability to proceed forward--to do good--has been called into question.

Moreover I think the uncertainty stems not just from the experience of having had their concerts shut down, though that’s the most extreme (and audience-pleasing) culprit. The trailer actually begins with black-and-white footage of masses of Eaglez screaming at concerts. In the interview this summer the members say, no no we’re glad that we’re not The Band That Spawned a Thousand Thinkpieces right now, we don’t want to be regarded as just controversial attention-getters, we want fame on our own terms. All according to plan, Bala says in the song; but “the plan” calls for greater fame, and greater fame is going to mean less and less power, in terms of their ability to control their own images.

Here I am thinking of a video I’ve seen but won’t link to, of Ninety One at some kind of industry dinner at the beginning of the year. Alem sees the camera first, as he’s about to go into the dining hall, and he waves, throws a V sign, seems happy to have the attention. But the camera continues inside, and when ZaQ and Bala catch sight of it they’re clearly uncomfortable; they’re not looking to be public figures performing for fans right at that moment.

Thinking, also, of Rana Dasgupta’s recent essay, “Notes on a Suicide”:

The problem was that, for the most part, it did not matter how widely broadcast your discontent was: no one cared. The great majority of celebrities – in this new world where even nobodies were celebrities – were lacking in that basic attribute of the celebrity, which was fame. They were half-creatures – unfamous celebrities, anonymous superstars, VIPs like the entire rest of the world – and unlike their fully formed counterparts, the world did not gasp when they expressed their thoughts and feelings. Everything was lost, in fact, in the infinite cacophony….

In the world of social media, where everyone becomes a celebrity, they do not inherit merely the life force of stardom – its beauty, achievement and sex. What is transmitted also to these faceless ranks of superstars is the inner knowledge of death. For, as all true celebrities discover, the media image feeds parasitically on human energy, starving them and removing them, slowly, from the realm of the living.

Even setting translation issues aside, the odds that Boss Yerbolat and Ninety One read Desgupta’s essay before filming the video for “Mooz” seem pretty low. But seeing the brief manipulation of ZaQ’s face into that of an old man’s, I wonder if they haven’t had similar thoughts about what they have to lose, in staking their accomplishments on the awareness of strangers.

***

And yet, and yet, and yet.

They keep yelling Eaglez! It’s practically a trademark: Сәлем, Eaglez! Part of that may be marketing. Part of it. Not all of it.

There are a lot of directions they could have taken with “Mooz,” and didn’t. They could have chosen to laugh off or minimize the disruptions, reassure fans that nothing can touch their commitment to Ninety One. They could have refused to address the uncertainty altogether. They could have done more easily sellable songs about love and relationships, as they did on Aiyptama. They could have put out something more upbeat and generic.

Instead: Неге бəрі мұз? The English translator on duty has Ace’s line as “Why is everyone so cold?” But мұз actually means ice. A better translation might be “Why is everyone frozen?” To continue the metaphor from “Su Asty,” and spell it out: even with gills, you can’t breathe in frozen water.

Ace says, can we wait together? AZ says, and why am I still hugging my knees? Alem says, I don’t know who is who, but my heart continues to believe. ZaQ says, Either their judgment will crush me, or I will pass by not noticing them. Bala says, I will not give up so fast. To me it adds up to, continuing on in the face of profound uncertainty. That they don’t know exactly how to love Eaglez back en masse but they’re going to keep trying. That they can’t be sure this will all work out to their benefit, but it’s still worth doing.

And then, for the first time in their discography, they switch to English:

When you feel alone You can breathe with the world Just keep our rhythm One love, one rhythm

And because now is not the moment for subtlety, Ace looks at the camera for the first time, and Bala makes a heart gesture record-setting in its sincerity.

It’s grandiose. Of course it is. It’s a grandiose idea to begin with, to say, This was my experience, and I think you had an experience like it, and here’s what I want to tell you, this helped me, I think it will help you too. It’s grandiose to think you can talk about the meaning of true happiness in a pop song. It’s grandiose to talk about love and one rhythm to millions of people you’ll never meet.

It is grandiose, in truth, to assume you deserve enough power to be able to do good.

***

There have been times, putting this week together, that I’ve wondered if it hasn’t been a gigantic waste of time, or worse. Quite a lot of time flew away while I happily wrote, and then I looked up and the doubts crowded in. Everything from Are you sure this is worth taking time away from your kids for? to It’s just a pop group, after all to You’re just flattering yourself into thinking your consumption choices are somehow “deep” or “ethical” to Who gave an ignorant American woman first dibs on writing about a Kazakhstani pop group anyway? to Even if you do somehow succeed in getting Ninety One more publicity, that’s not necessarily going to make them more comfortable or happier to All this time, and no one’s going to read it, and meanwhile you still haven’t washed the dishes.

You have to understand: I come from city planning. As a discipline we’re swamped with two things: people who enter with the fervent, heartmost desire to do good, and examples of the road to hell being paved with good intentions. And as a general rule of thumb, the bigger the intention, the less predictable and controllable the consequences.

I think Ninety One want to be famous with their work, the way most people who like to create original works (myself included) do. I think they want the power of visibility for themselves, their genre, and their country; more specifically to beat back the powerlessness that comes with invisibility. And I think they want to do good. “Mooz” feels like an acknowledgment that none of this is simple, that the power to do good is hard to get and harder to use; and a resulting combination of resolution and humility. The desire to reach out, still; to use their song to speak; but their promise is small. When you feel alone, not “you are not alone,” not a promise of connection they can’t deliver on; but, you can breathe with the world. That’s all. Just breathe. Such a small thing.

What was the superpower ZaQ and AZ boasted about in “Su Asty”? We have gills, remember? Simply breathing underwater. Breathing.

That’s it? Ace asks. That’s it, Bala says.

Why did I even start getting so obsessively into pop music and its stories in the first place? To feel less alone. And then to marvel at the idea that people on the other side of the world, speaking other languages, coming from experiences fully foreign to mine, were willing to offer enough of themselves to cameras that I could, in fact, feel less alone; even if there was absolutely no way of my being able to do half as much for them in return.

As best I know Ninety One hasn’t seen this. I don’t know how to show it to them--I don’t even know what would be the best platform for jumping up and down and yelling HEY GUYS LOOK WHAT I WROTE AND IT’S ALL ABOUT YOOOOUUUUUU, leaving aside any issues about queue-jumping in front of other Eaglez who put time and energy into their own presents. I don’t know how to tell them that I find them lovable and inspiring, or that thanks to them I’ve had a great deal of fun learning about Kazakhstan and Kazakhstani music. I don’t know how to say thank you--рақмет сізге, or maybe Спасибо--loud enough for them to hear it; and even if I did, there’s no good reason why I should be the one who gets heard and not some other fan.

But it’s still worth doing.

introductory post / all Ninety One posts

#ninety one #mooz #qarangy zharyq #91 movie

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alecsimon · 7 years

Note

ELLE !!!!! CONGRATS !!!! also malec + birthdays :))

RIYA!!! so it’s funny how i completed this for your birthday and the ask includes birthdays i mean iconic am i right? anyway happy birthday sweetheart!!! i love you to the moon and back and talking to you always brightens my day. i love when you tag me in your gifsets and i hold our friendship v dear to me especially when we expose our #darkpasts 👀 you’re beautiful and kind and i hope your day is absolutely amazing!! ❤️😚

READ ON AO3

(huge thanks to the best beta a girl could ask for @lightwoodlesbians 💕)

Magnus sips on his morning tea, checking over the guest list to Rafael’s party one last time. Rafael’s turning 11, and it’s his first birthday with them, spending it together as a family. Though Rafael has been here under a year, he’s still as much of a son to Magnus and Alec as little Max is. So Magnus wants Rafael’s first birthday with them to be special and to serve as a reminder that he has people who want to celebrate with him.

“I hope Helen and Aline are able to make it. Helen says Aline is still sick with a nasty flu.”

Looking up, Magnus watches his very shirtless husband flip a pancake expertly, and Magnus grins, twirling the pen between his fingers.

“Me too. Although even without them we have almost 25 people who said they’re going to come,” Magnus replies, making a mental note to call the caterer to make sure the food comes on time.

“It’s gonna be a big crowd,” Alec says, putting the pancakes onto four plates and passing one to Magnus with an easy wink and a smile.

“And why are you so happy this morning, hm?” Magnus asks, getting off of his chair and taking a step towards Alec, who won’t stop smiling. It’s very difficult for Magnus not to mirror his happiness.

“I have two amazing kids and a beautiful husband - what’s there not to be happy about?” Alec asks, picking up the ends of the sash of the robe Magnus is wearing and tugging him flush against his body, kissing him deeply.

Magnus kisses him back instantly, wrapping his arms around Alec’s torso as Alec lifts a hand to cup Magnus’ face.

“Dad?”

Magnus pulls back from the kiss and turns his head, seeing a little seven year old in Star Wars pajamas clutching an oversized teddy bear and rubbing his right eye with a small fist.

“Good morning, Max,” Alec says from beside him, kissing Magnus’ cheek before pulling away completely and walking over to Max. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Max replies, smiling up at his dad. His blue skin is mesmerizing under the morning sun streaming through the windows. “I had a dream that me, you, Papa, and Rafael were on a pirate ship.”

“That’s one heck of a dream,” Alec says, ruffling Max’s hair.

Rafael appears a moment later in the hall, clad in his monotone pajamas.

“There he is,” Magnus says, walking over to Rafael and crouching down to pull him into a hug. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Papa,” Rafael says, laughing when Magnus starts peppering his face with kisses.

“Happy birthday, Rafa,” Alec says, which Max repeats almost instantly.

“Dad made pancakes in your honor,” Magnus says, brushing Rafael’s hair out of his face.

“Chocolate chip?” Rafael asks, his eyes lighting up.

“Of course,” Magnus replies with a wink.

Alec and Magnus finish up making breakfast while the kids talk about yesterday’s museum trip at the dinner table. Mornings like this are what Magnus adores, and will hold close to his heart forever. Everything feels soft and rich with love, and Magnus doesn’t really know how he got here, surrounded by his own little family, but every day he’s thankful.

“Simon, Izzy, and Jace are gonna come a little earlier to set up for the party.” Alec says as he sits down at the round table.

“Catarina can’t stay for long but she promised to stop by,” Magnus pours some maple syrup on his pancakes and passes it to Max, who’s making grabby hands at him.

“She always gives the most thoughtful gifts. Oh, also, the cake I bought is your favorite, Rafa,” Alec says, turning to Rafael with a smile.

Next to him, however, Rafa is pushing his food around his plate, chewing on his lower lip. Magnus and Alec share a worried look before Alec puts his hand on Rafael’s shoulder and Rafael looks up.

“You ok, bud?” Alec asks softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rafael replies. He looks down at his plate again before picking up his fork and pointing it at Alec. “That cake better be chocolate on top of chocolate.”

“You know it is,” Alec says with a wink.

The day goes by beautifully. The four of them finish breakfast and all give Rafael their gifts, and the way Rafael’s eyes light up when he unwraps the guitar tells Magnus that they purchased the right gift. The guests start filtering in around lunchtime, and by then the entire loft has been decorated in a pirate theme.

A pirate flag is hung over one of the walls and the bar has been made to look like a pirate ship’s front deck. Maia stands at the bar, chatting to Meliorn and Luke. On the other side of the room, Max is performing for Izzy and Clary, showing them the new magic he learned, and Alec is talking to Simon. Other people are littered throughout the apartment, but Magnus notices, as he does a twirl, that he can’t find the guest of honor.

“You look lost,” says a familiar voice, and Magnus turns to face his husband, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Have you seen Rafael?” Magnus asks. Alec looks puzzled for a moment, then shakes his head.

“Actually, no. Not in the past half hour at least.” Alec nudges his head towards the direction of Rafael’s room and they both walk to it. Magnus knocks once before walking inside, finding Rafael sitting on the floor reading a book.

“Rafa,” Magnus calls, stepping into the room. Rafael looks up guiltily, closing the book and setting it down next to him. “Why aren’t you at your party, darling?”

“I don’t know,” Rafael replies, twiddling his thumbs together. Behind Alec, an overly excited Max comes running in, holding a present.

“Uncle Jace brought you a gift!” he cheers, holding out the bright red box to Rafael. “Wait, why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not sad,” Rafael says quickly in response to Max’s youthful bluntness.

As Max puts the gift next to Rafael, Magnus and Alec make their way over to the kids. Alec crouches in front of Rafael and takes his hands.

“You wanna tell us what’s really going on?” Alec says softly, tilting his head to the side when Rafael looks down.

“I just -” Rafael starts, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s too many people. I thought we could spend the day with just the four of us. But you and Papa seemed so happy to have everyone come over.”

“Oh, honey,” Magnus says, crouching down next to Alec and cupping Rafael’s face. “You’re allowed to tell us what you want - you know that, right? You dad and I, we just want you to see how many people want to celebrate your birthday with you. But it’s also your birthday, and if you wanted something else you could have just said so, sweetheart.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to ruin the fun,” Rafael says, still looking sad.

“You could never ruin the fun,” Alec replies instantly. “It’s your special day. And all three of us - we love you very much.”

Rafael actually cracks a smile at that, and Max leans on him. Magnus barely holds back the need to coo at the brotherly affection.

“Stay here,” Magnus says to Alec, kissing his cheek and the top of both of his son’s heads. “Papa will be right back.”

The next fifteen minutes are spent doing damage control. One by one Magnus apologizes to his guests and tells them that the party is over, and while people are sad to leave, they’re all close friends and family and are extremely understanding. The gifts are left on the coffee table, and they have plenty of food left, but the loft is left in a mostly mess-free state.

He makes his way back to Rafael’s room and slowly opens the door. Alec, Max, and Rafael are putting together a Lego set that Rafael got for Christmas when Magnus clears his throat.

“Come on, let’s go back out,” Magnus says, and he can instantly see Rafael’s face drop at the prospect of having to socialize with a few dozen people.

With a little encouragement from Alec, all of them make their way out of Rafael’s room and into the loft towards the kitchen.

“Where did everybody go?” Rafael asks, climbing on one of the island chairs. Alec seats Max on the other one.

“They all went home. You said you wanted just the four of us - our family together for your birthday. So, here we are,” Magnus says, smiling as he walks over to the fridge.

“Next time, talk to us, Rafa, okay?” Alec says, leaning over the island to ruffle Rafael’s hair, to which Rafael laughs playfully and saying a soft ‘okay, dad’.

Magnus pulls out a chocolate cake from the fridge and sets in on the island, snapping his fingers and lighting a candle.

All three of them start singing happy birthday softly, Magnus using his magic to dim the rest of the lights in the loft a little so the candle illuminates the room. He can see now, the joy on Rafael’s face at just the four of them being there. Rafael has been denied a loving family for too long, and when he was adopted Magnus and Alec both swore to do everything in their power to make sure Rafael knew he was wanted and had a home. Had a family.

“You have to make a wish now, darling,” Magnus says softly once the song is over. Max is giddy next to Rafa, his eyes on the chocolate cake, and Rafael just smiles, shaking his head.

“I don’t need to. Everything I would want is right here,” Rafael says, looking at his brother and fathers.

Magnus swears he hears Alec’s breath hitch, and he feels his own heart melt at Rafael’s words.

Closing his eyes, Rafael blows out the candle, a huge grin on his face and a light in his eyes as Max claps from beside him.

“Oh, Rafael! Papa got fake swords. We can play pirate and guards,” Max says, wobbling his way down from the island chair.

“Cool!” Rafael responds as they both run towards the wooden box of styrofoam swords.

Magnus sets the kettle as two strong arms wrap around his waist from behind. Magnus smiles, turning in Alec’s arms and placing his hands on his chest. From the other room, Magnus can hear Rafael and Max playing and shouting:

“I’m gonna catch you!”

“You’ll never take me alive!”

Alec laughs softly, kissing Magnus softly and resting their foreheads together. “Should we go and join them?” Alec asks.

“Yea,” Magnus says, closing his eyes and just revelling in the moment. “But only if I get to be a pirate.”

Alec grins. “Deal.”

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