#woo first ending archived! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mythicalmagical-monkeyman · 7 days

Text

Heeeeey dreamerzzz fans

um, I wrote a thing because the ao3 tag is, uh, in shambles (cries) to put it buuut anyways I’ll put the story under the cut if you wanna read it here

Summary: Sooooo, ig I kind of have it in my au that Cooper’s been in love with Mateo for forever but I thought it’d be funnier if he accidentally confesses instead doing some serious reveal Thus This

Additional Tags:

First dreamzzz fic woo! I have no idea what I’m doing Wrote this on a whim. - logan is only there for cameo points, Cooper has implied anxiety, Mateo goes non verbal for a little bit, Aged-Up Character(s), But it’s not specifically said how old they are, Crack turned hurt/comfort, trigger warning for a slight mention of drowning, Love Confessions, accidental love confession, t for light swearing, No beta we die like Lunia, Fluff, Physics bashing

— — —

Mateo chewed on the nail of his thumb as he mulled over the physics homework on the table in front of him as Logan, who sat across from him, did the same. Well Logan was less doing homework and more rocking out to an air guitar.

Cooper was also at the table with the two only he had finished his work about fifteen minutes ago and was now engrossed with a video game on his phone.

Mateo sighed and took his eyes off his paper. He was starting to understand why Cooper insisted that physics wasn’t a real thing, it honestly kind of sucked.

Maybe he just needed a quick comic break.

Mateo turned in his seat so he could more easily zip open his backpack and pull out his tablet. Z-Blob greeted him as the slime was able to see light again.

“Hey bud,”

Mateo looked around and seeing that no one else was in that part of the library, reached into his bag and pulled out his tablet. Z latched on to his arm as he reached in and when Mateo pulled his arm back out Z-Blob came with.

Z-Blob flopped to the table and looked down at the pages of homework he had landed on as Mateo set his tablet down only for the slime to shake himself as if he was disgusted by the papers.

Mateo snickered, “Yeah homework is pretty gross,”

Z-Blob looked down at the homework again before looking up and pointing his head in Cooper’s direction.

“Hm?” Mateo hummed, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

The slime looked back down at the page for a third time. He then hopped off the paper towards Cooper and pointed his head again.

Finally it clicked what Z-Blob was trying to communicate.

“Ooooohhhhh,” Mateo said, picking up his pencil and glancing at his paper to see which questions he still had to answer, “Hey Coop?”

“Yeah?” Cooper wondered, not taking his attention off his phone.

“What is Mach Number?” Mateo quizzed, preparing himself to write down the answer.

“Mach number gives the ratio of the speed of the object to the speed of sound in the fluid. It's formula is m equal u over c and it was figured out by a guy named Ernst Mach,” Cooper muttered.

Mateo grinned and scribbled down what Cooper had told him, “Thank you,”

“Yeah, no problem. Love you too,” Cooper responded in the same somewhat out of it voice he’d been using.

All in the span of a couple seconds many things ended up happening. Logan instantly started laughing as red sprang to Mateo’s face as he dropped his pencil and put his head in his hands to hide the blush. Cooper seemed to mentally blue screen for a second before he realized what he had said and started to stutter out swears and apologizes.

Logan threw back his head as he laughed, “PFFFFF HA, BRO WHY’D YOU ADMIT TO THAT DURING HOMEWORK TIME!? HAHA!”

“I don’t- I DONT KNOW! It-it just slipped out!” Cooper shot back trying to deflect only to let his head drop in embarrassment, “Mateo I’m so sorry! I didn’t-!”

“It’s fine!” Mateo squeaked.

Cooper groaned and grabbed his hoodie hood to throw it over his head. He pulled on the drawstrings and the opening of his hood shrunk so half of Cooper’s face was no longer visible and then Cooper face planted into the table.

Logan kept on laughing for a bit before it died out to just the occasional snicker but Mateo had mostly tuned it out at that point as too many thoughts swarmed around in his head.

Did he really just admit that? Cooper wasn’t actually in love with him right? There was no way they were at that point in their relationship yet!

A nervous laugh came from Cooper and he abruptly stood where he swung his bag over his shoulder.

“I’m going to drown myself in the bay now,” He announced before speed walking behind the nearest bookcase and disappearing.

Logan sniffed as his snickers died completely, “Hey, did he just—“

Mateo was already shoving his things into his bag to go after Cooper however. He was only slightly concerned that Cooper might actually try and drown himself so most of his urgency came from the fact that he didn’t want to end things on note that had just happened.

“Come on Z-Blob,” Mateo told his green little friend as he picked him up, “Let’s go catch up to Cooper.”

Logan blinked, “Wha-bro! You just gonna leave me here?”

Mateo gave Logan a look that he hoped came off as more curious than pissed, “You can come if you want, I never said you couldn’t.”

Logan stared at Mateo with his weird beast like stare for a moment before shrugging, “I was just being dramatic, this doesn’t really seem to need us getting involved,” and just as Logan started to lean back in his chair to relax he stopped and added, “Ai, you probably know this but physical contact will help keep him from going off to anxiety land.”

Mateo nodded sharply, “Noted,”

—————————

Mateo had to admit that keeping up with someone as tall as Cooper was an exercise in and of itself. By the time Mateo had even managed to find him Cooper was already all the way down the street heading in the direction of the park.

After spending a few blocks closing the distance between them Mateo called out, “COOPER! Wait up!”

Cooper tensed at that, his shoulders rasing, and instead of slowing down he started walking faster.

Mateo groaned, add physical activity to the list of things he hated.

“Hey! Cooper! Cooper stop!” Mateo yelled, deciding to take the speaking approach instead of continuing to chase after him, “I just wanna talk!”

Cooper slowed slightly but he still wasn’t stopped completely.

A sour taste grew in Mateo’s mouth, god this was starting to remind him of something he’d much rather forget. In spite of it though Mateo called out, “Don’t run away from me again! Please!”

That stopped Cooper in his tracks but it left Mateo with a growing guilty feeling that made his gut churn.

Mateo hurried over to Cooper and once he was within an arm's length away he grabbed Cooper’s fisted hand in his own and rounded around to face Cooper.

Cooper’s face was scrunched up like he was in physical pain but Mateo couldn’t blame him, they were no doubt remembering the same thing.

Of course that’s when Mateo’s words failed him, but he couldn’t just say nothing!

Mateo growled at himself why was drawing and writing so much easier than talking? Why couldn’t he just make this a comic and explain to Cooper everything he wanted to? Izzie was so much better at words than him.

“‘Teo?” Cooper asked.

Mateo grit his teeth together but rather than force himself to meet Cooper’s eyes he let go of Cooper’s hand and pulled him into a hug.

Cooper stiffened but as the hug continued he seemed to melt into Mateo’s grip and hugged him back just as tight.

“Words… suck,” Mateo grumbled.

Cooper only hummed and buried his face into Mateo’s hair where he pressed a kiss.

“Yeah I know, they love betraying you,” Cooper agreed.

Mateo nodded and then pulled away slightly, “But did—“

Damn words.

Luckily Cooper picked up on what Mateo was trying to ask, “I do, I do love you.”

Mateo couldn’t help the small quiver that came to his lips, he felt like if he smiled too wide he’d start crying. So he buried his face back into Cooper’s chest and squeezed as hard as he could. Maybe he’d never have the words to convey what he was feeling but Mateo was pretty sure Cooper knew him well enough to know.

#Neon nerds #neon nerds shipping #lego dreamzzz #fanfiction #fanfic #lego dreamzzz mateo #dreamzzz mateo #mateo lego dreamzzz #lego dreamzzz cooper #dreamzzz cooper #Cooper lego dreamzzz #lego dreamzzz logan #lego dreamzzz Z-blob #i’m going insane

12 notes · View notes

fibula-rasa · 6 months

Text

(Mostly) Lost, but Not Forgotten: Omar Khayyam (1923) / A Lover’s Oath (1925)

Alternate Titles: The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, The Rubaiyat, Omar Khayyam, Omar

Direction: Ferdinand Pinney Earle; assisted by Walter Mayo

Scenario: Ferdinand P. Earle

Titles: Marion Ainslee, Ferdinand P. Earle (Omar), Louis Weadock (A Lover’s Oath)

Inspired by: The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, as edited & translated by Edward FitzGerald

Production Manager: Winthrop Kelly

Camera: Georges Benoit

Still Photography: Edward S. Curtis

Special Photographic Effects: Ferdinand P. Earle, Gordon Bishop Pollock

Composer: Charles Wakefield Cadman

Editors: Arthur D. Ripley (The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam version), Ethel Davey & Ferdinand P. Earle (Omar / Omar Khayyam, the Director’s cut of 1922), Milton Sills (A Lover’s Oath)

Scenic Artists: Frank E. Berier, Xavier Muchado, Anthony Vecchio, Paul Detlefsen, Flora Smith, Jean Little Cyr, Robert Sterner, Ralph Willis

Character Designer: Louis Hels

Choreography: Ramon Novarro (credited as Ramon Samaniegos)

Technical Advisors: Prince Raphael Emmanuel, Reverend Allan Moore, Captain Dudley S. Corlette, & Captain Montlock or Mortlock

Studio: Ferdinand P. Earle Productions / The Rubaiyat, Inc. (Production) & Eastern Film Corporation (Distribution, Omar), Astor Distribution Corporation [States Rights market] (Distribution, A Lover’s Oath)

Performers: Frederick Warde, Edwin Stevens, Hedwiga Reicher, Mariska Aldrich, Paul Weigel, Robert Anderson, Arthur Carewe, Jesse Weldon, Snitz Edwards, Warren Rogers, Ramon Novarro (originally credited as Ramon Samaniegos), Big Jim Marcus, Kathleen Key, Charles A. Post, Phillippe de Lacy, Ferdinand Pinney Earle

Premiere(s): Omar cut: April 1922 The Ambassador Theatre, New York, NY (Preview Screening), 12 October 1923, Loew’s New York, New York, NY (Preview Screening), 2 February 1923, Hoyt’s Theatre, Sydney, Australia (Initial Release)

Status: Presumed lost, save for one 30 second fragment preserved by the Academy Film Archive, and a 2.5 minute fragment preserved by a private collector (Old Films & Stuff)

Length: Omar Khayyam: 8 reels , 76 minutes; A Lover’s Oath: 6 reels, 5,845 feet (though once listed with a runtime of 76 minutes, which doesn’t line up with the stated length of this cut)

Synopsis (synthesized from magazine summaries of the plot):

Omar Khayyam:

Set in 12th century Persia, the story begins with a preface in the youth of Omar Khayyam (Warde). Omar and his friends, Nizam (Weigel) and Hassan (Stevens), make a pact that whichever one of them becomes a success in life first will help out the others. In adulthood, Nizam has become a potentate and has given Omar a position so that he may continue his studies in mathematics and astronomy. Hassan, however, has grown into quite the villain. When he is expelled from the kingdom, he plots to kidnap Shireen (Key), the sheik’s daughter. Shireen is in love with Ali (Novarro). In the end it’s Hassan’s wife (Reicher) who slays the villain then kills herself.

A Lover’s Oath:

The daughter of a sheik, Shireen (Key), is in love with Ali (Novarro), the son of the ruler of a neighboring kingdom. Hassan covets Shireen and plots to kidnap her. Hassan is foiled by his wife. [The Sills’ edit places Ali and Shireen as protagonists, but there was little to no re-shooting done (absolutely none with Key or Novarro). So, most critics note how odd it is that all Ali does in the film is pitch woo, and does not save Shireen himself. This obviously wouldn’t have been an issue in the earlier cut, where Ali is a supporting character, often not even named in summaries and news items. Additional note: Post’s credit changes from “Vizier” to “Commander of the Faithful”]

Additional sequence(s) featured in the film (but I’m not sure where they fit in the continuity):

Celestial sequences featuring stars and planets moving through the cosmos

Angels spinning in a cyclone up to the heavens

A Potters’ shop sequence (relevant to a specific section of the poems)

Harem dance sequence choreographed by Novarro

Locations: palace gardens, street and marketplace scenes, ancient ruins

Points of Interest:

“The screen has been described as the last word in realism, but why confine it there? It can also be the last word in imaginative expression.”

Ferdinand P. Earle as quoted in Exhibitors Trade Review, 4 March 1922

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam was a massive best seller. Ferdinand Pinney Earle was a classically trained artist who studied under William-Adolphe Bougueraeu and James McNeill Whistler in his youth. He also had years of experience creating art backgrounds, matte paintings, and art titles for films. Charles Wakefield Cadman was an accomplished composer of songs, operas, and operettas. Georges Benoit and Gordon Pollock were experienced photographic technicians. Edward S. Curtis was a widely renowned still photographer. Ramon Novarro was a name nobody knew yet—but they would soon enough.

When Earle chose The Rubaiyat as the source material for his directorial debut and collected such skilled collaborators, it seemed likely that the resulting film would be a landmark in the art of American cinema. Quite a few people who saw Earle’s Rubaiyat truly thought it would be:

William E. Wing writing for Camera, 9 September 1922, wrote:

“Mr. Earle…came from the world of brush and canvass, to spread his art upon the greater screen. He created a new Rubaiyat with such spiritual colors, that they swayed.” … “It has been my fortune to see some of the most wonderful sets that this Old Earth possesses, but I may truly say that none seized me more suddenly, or broke with greater, sudden inspiration upon the view and the brain, than some of Ferdinand Earle’s backgrounds, in his Rubaiyat. “His vision and inspired art seem to promise something bigger and better for the future screen.”

As quoted in an ad in Film Year Book, 1923:

“Ferdinand Earle has set a new standard of production to live up to.”

Rex Ingram

“Fifty years ahead of the time.”

Marshall Neilan

The film was also listed among Fritz Lang’s Siegfried, Chaplin’s Gold Rush, Fairbanks’ Don Q, Lon Chaney’s Phantom of the Opera and The Unholy Three, and Erich Von Stroheim’s Merry Widow by the National Board of Review as an exceptional film of 1925.

So why don’t we all know about this film? (Spoiler: it’s not just because it’s lost!)

The short answer is that multiple dubious legal challenges arose that prevented Omar’s general release in the US. The long answer follows BELOW THE JUMP!

Earle began the project in earnest in 1919. Committing The Rubaiyat to film was an ambitious undertaking for a first-time director and Earle was striking out at a time when the American film industry was developing an inferiority complex about the level of artistry in their creative output. Earle was one of a number of artists in the film colony who were going independent of the emergent studio system for greater protections of their creative freedoms.

In their adaptation of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, Earle and Co. hoped to develop new and perfect existing techniques for incorporating live-action performers with paintings and expand the idea of what could be accomplished with photographic effects in filmmaking. The Rubaiyat was an inspired choice. It’s not a narrative, but a collection of poetry. This gave Earle the opportunity to intersperse fantastical, poetic sequences throughout a story set in the lifetime of Omar Khayyam, the credited writer of the poems. In addition to the fantastic, Earle’s team would recreate 12th century Persia for the screen.

Earle was convinced that if his methods were perfected, it wouldn’t matter when or where a scene was set, it would not just be possible but practical to put on film. For The Rubaiyat, the majority of shooting was done against black velvet and various matte photography and multiple exposure techniques were employed to bring a setting 800+ years in the past and 1000s of miles removed to life before a camera in a cottage in Los Angeles.

Note: If you’d like to learn a bit more about how these effects were executed at the time, see the first installment of How’d They Do That.

Unfortunately, the few surviving minutes don’t feature much of this special photography, but what does survive looks exquisite:

see all gifs here

Earle, knowing that traditional stills could not be taken while filming, brought in Edward S. Curtis. Curtis developed techniques in still photography to replicate the look of the photographic effects used for the film. So, even though the film hasn’t survived, we have some pretty great looking representations of some of the 1000s of missing feet of the film.

Nearly a year before Curtis joined the crew, Earle began collaboration with composer Charles Wakefield Cadman. In another bold creative move, Cadman and Earle worked closely before principal photography began so that the score could inform the construction and rhythm of the film and vice versa.

By the end of 1921 the film was complete. After roughly 9 months and the creation of over 500 paintings, The Rubaiyat was almost ready to meet its public. However, the investors in The Rubaiyat, Inc., the corporation formed by Earle to produce the film, objected to the ample reference to wine drinking (a comical objection if you’ve read the poems) and wanted the roles of the young lovers (played by as yet unknown Ramon Novarro and Kathleen Key) to be expanded. The dispute with Earle became so heated that the financiers absconded with the bulk of the film to New York. Earle filed suit against them in December to prevent them from screening their butchered and incomplete cut. Cadman supported Earle by withholding the use of his score for the film.

Later, Eastern Film Corp. brokered a settlement between the two parties, where Earle would get final cut of the film and Eastern would handle its release. Earle and Eastern agreed to change the title from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam to simply Omar. Omar had its first official preview in New York City. It was tentatively announced that the film would have a wide release in the autumn.

However, before that autumn, director Norman Dawn launched a dubious patent-infringement suit against Earle and others. Dawn claimed that he owned the sole right to use multiple exposures, glass painting for single exposure, and other techniques that involved combining live action with paintings. All the cited techniques had been widespread in the film industry for a decade already and eventually and expectedly Dawn lost the suit. Despite Earle’s victory, the suit effectively put the kibosh on Omar’s release in the US.

Earle moved on to other projects that didn’t come to fruition, like a Theda Bara film and a frankly amazing sounding collaboration with Cadman to craft a silent-film opera of Faust. Omar did finally get a release, albeit only in Australia. Australian news outlets praised the film as highly as those few lucky attendees of the American preview screenings did. The narrative was described as not especially original, but that it was good enough in view of the film’s artistry and its imaginative “visual phenomena” and the precision of its technical achievement.

One reviewer for The Register, Adelaide, SA, wrote:

“It seems almost an impossibility to make a connected story out of the short verse of the Persian of old, yet the producer of this classic of the screen… has succeeded in providing an entertainment that would scarcely have been considered possible. From first to last the story grips with its very dramatic intensity.”

While Omar’s American release was still in limbo, “Ramon Samaniegos” made a huge impression in Rex Ingram’s Prisoner of Zenda (1922, extant) and Scaramouche (1923, extant) and took on a new name: Ramon Novarro. Excitement was mounting for Novarro’s next big role as the lead in the epic Ben-Hur (1925, extant) and the Omar project was re-vivified.

A new company, Astor Distribution Corp., was formed and purchased the distribution rights to Omar. Astor hired actor (note, not an editor) Milton Sills to re-cut the film to make Novarro and Key more prominent. The company also re-wrote the intertitles, reduced the films runtime by more than ten minutes, and renamed the film A Lover’s Oath. Earle had moved on by this point, vowing to never direct again. In fact, Earle was indirectly working with Novarro and Key again at the time, as an art director on Ben-Hur!

Despite Omar’s seemingly auspicious start in 1920, it was only released in the US on the states rights market as a cash-in on the success of one of its actors in a re-cut form five years later.

That said, A Lover’s Oath still received some good reviews from those who did manage to see it. Most of the negative criticism went to the story, intertitles, and Sills’ editing.

What kind of legacy could/should Omar have had? I’m obviously limited in my speculation by the fact that the film is lost, but there are a few key facts about the film’s production, release, and timing to consider.

The production budget was stated to be $174,735. That is equivalent to $3,246,994.83 in 2024 dollars. That is a lot of money, but since the production was years long and Omar was a period film set in a remote locale and features fantastical special effects sequences, it’s a modest budget. For contemporary perspective, Robin Hood (1922, extant) cost just under a million dollars to produce and Thief of Bagdad (1924, extant) cost over a million. For a film similarly steeped in spectacle to have nearly 1/10th of the budget is really very noteworthy. And, perhaps if the film had ever had a proper release in the US—in Earle’s intended form (that is to say, not the Sills cut)—Omar may have made as big of a splash as other epics.

It’s worth noting here however that there are a number of instances in contemporary trade and fan magazines where journalists off-handedly make this filmmaking experiment about undermining union workers. Essentially implying that that value of Earle’s method would be to continue production when unionized workers were striking. I’m sure that that would absolutely be a primary thought for studio heads, but it certainly wasn’t Earle’s motivation. Often when Earle talks about the method, he focuses on being able to film things that were previously impossible or impracticable to film. Driving down filming costs from Earle’s perspective was more about highlighting the artistry of his own specialty in lieu of other, more demanding and time-consuming approaches, like location shooting.

This divide between artists and studio decision makers is still at issue in the American film and television industry. Studio heads with billion dollar salaries constantly try to subvert unions of skilled professionals by pursuing (as yet) non-unionized labor. The technical developments of the past century have made Earle’s approach easier to implement. However, just because you don’t have to do quite as much math, or time an actor’s movements to a metronome, does not mean that filming a combination of painted/animated and live-action elements does not involve skilled labor.

VFX artists and animators are underappreciated and underpaid. In every new movie or TV show you watch there’s scads of VFX work done even in films/shows that have mundane, realistic settings. So, if you love a film or TV show, take the effort to appreciate the work of the humans who made it, even if their work was so good you didn’t notice it was done. And, if you’ve somehow read this far, and are so out of the loop about modern filmmaking, Disney’s “live-action” remakes are animated films, but they’ve just finagled ways to circumvent unions and low-key delegitimize the skilled labor of VFX artists and animators in the eyes of the viewing public. Don’t fall for it.

VFX workers in North America have a union under IATSE, but it’s still developing as a union and Marvel & Disney workers only voted to unionize in the autumn of 2023. The Animation Guild (TAG), also under the IATSE umbrella, has a longer history, but it’s been growing rapidly in the past year. A strike might be upcoming this year for TAG, so keep an eye out and remember to support striking workers and don’t cross picket lines, be they physical or digital!

Speaking of artistry over cost-cutting, I began this post with a mention that in the early 1920s, the American film industry was developing an inferiority complex in regard to its own artistry. This was in comparison to the European industries, Germany’s being the largest at the time. It’s frustrating to look back at this period and see acceptance of the opinion that American filmmakers weren’t bringing art to film. While yes, the emergent studio system was highly capitalistic and commercial, that does not mean the American industry was devoid of home-grown artists.

United Artists was formed in 1919 by Douglas Fairbanks, Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and D.W. Griffith precisely because studios were holding them back from investing in their art—within the same year that Earle began his Omar project. While salaries and unforgiving production schedules were also paramount concerns in the filmmakers going independent, a primary impetus was that production/distribution heads exhibited too much control over what the artists were trying to create.

Fairbanks was quickly expanding his repertoire in a more classical and fantastic direction. Cecil B. DeMille made his first in a long and very successful string of ancient epics. And the foreign-born children of the American film industry, Charlie Chaplin, Rex Ingram, and Nazimova, were poppin’ off! Chaplin was redefining comedic filmmaking. Ingram was redefining epics. Nazimova independently produced what is often regarded as America’s first art film, Salome (1923, extant), a film designed by Natacha Rambova, who was *gasp* American. Earle and his brother, William, had ambitious artistic visions of what could be done in the American industry and they also had to self-produce to get their work done.

Meanwhile, studio heads, instead of investing in the artists they already had contracts with, tried to poach talent from Europe with mixed success (in this period, see: Ernst Lubitsch, F.W. Murnau, Benjamin Christensen, Mauritz Stiller, Victor Sjöström, and so on). I’m in no way saying it was the wrong call to sign these artists, but all of these filmmakers, even if they found success in America, had stories of being hired to inject the style and artistry that they developed in Europe into American cinema, and then had their plans shot down or cut down to a shadow of their creative vision. Even Stiller, who tragically died before he had the opportunity to establish himself in the US, faced this on his first American film, The Temptress (1926, extant), on which he was replaced. Essentially, the studio heads’ actions were all hot air and spite for the filmmakers who’d gone independent.

Finally I would like to highlight Ferdinand Earle’s statement to the industry, which he penned for from Camera in 14 January 1922, when his financial backers kidnapped his film to re-edit it on their terms:

MAGNA CHARTA

Until screen authors and producers obtain a charter specifying and guaranteeing their privileges and rights, the great slaughter of unprotected motion picture dramas will go merrily on.

Some of us who are half artists and half fighters and who are ready to expend ninety per cent of our energy in order to win the freedom to devote the remaining ten per cent to creative work on the screen, manage to bring to birth a piteous, half-starved art progeny.

The creative artist today labors without the stimulus of a public eager for his product, labors without the artistic momentum that fires the artist’s imagination and spurs his efforts as in any great art era.

Nowadays the taint of commercialism infects the seven arts, and the art pioneer meets with constant petty worries and handicaps.

Only once in a blue moon, in this matter-of-fact, dollar-wise age can the believer in better pictures hope to participate in a truely [sic] artistic treat.

In the seven years I have devoted to the screen, I have witnessed many splendid photodramas ruined by intruding upstarts and stubborn imbeciles. And I determined not to launch the production of my Opus No. 1 until I had adequately protected myself against all the usual evils of the way, especially as I was to make an entirely new type of picture.

In order that my film verison [sic] of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam might be produced under ideal conditions and safeguarded from intolerable interferences and outside worries, I entered into a contract with the Rubaiyat, Inc., that made me not only president of the corporation and on the board of directors, but which set forth that I was to be author, production manager, director, cutter and film editor as well as art director, and that no charge could be made against the production without my written consent, and that my word was to be final on all matters of production. The late George Loane Tucker helped my attorney word the contract, which read like a splendid document.

Alas, I am now told that only by keeping title to a production until it is declared by yourself to be completed is it safe for a scenario writer, an actor or a director, who is supposedly making his own productions, to contract with a corporation; otherwise he is merely the servant of that corporation, subject at any moment to discharge, with the dubious redress of a suit for damages that can with difficulty be estimated and proven.

Can there be any hope of better pictures as long as contracts and copyrights are no protection against financial brigands and bullies?

We have scarcely emerged from barbarism, for contracts, solemnly drawn up between human beings, in which the purposes are set forth in the King’s plainest English, serve only as hurdles over which justice-mocking financiers and their nimble attorneys travel with impunity, riding rough shod over the author or artist who cannot support a legal army to defend his rights. The phrase is passed about that no contract is invioliable [sic]—and yet we think we have reached a state of civilization!

The suit begun by my attorneys in the federal courts to prevent the present hashed and incomplete version of my story from being released and exhibited, may be of interest to screen writers. For the whole struggle revolves not in the slightest degree around the sanctity of the contract, but centers around the federal copyright of my story which I never transferred in writing otherwise, and which is being brazenly ignored.

Imagine my production without pictorial titles: and imagine “The Rubaiyat” with a spoken title as follows, “That bird is getting to talk too much!”—beside some of the immortal quatrains of Fitzgerald!

One weapon, fortunately, remains for the militant art creator, when all is gone save his dignity and his sense of humor; and that is the rapier blade of ridicule, that can send lumbering to his retreat the most brutal and elephant-hided lord of finance.

How edifying—the tableau of the man of millions playing legal pranks upon men such as Charles Wakefield Cadman, Edward S. Curtis and myself and others who were associated in the bloody venture of picturizing the Rubaiyat! It has been gratifying to find the press of the whole country ready to champion the artist’s cause.

When the artist forges his plowshare into a sword, so to speak, he does not always put up a mean fight.

What publisher would dare to rewrite a sonnet of John Keats or alter one chord of a Chopin ballade?

Creative art of a high order will become possible on the screen only when the rights of established, independent screen producers, such as Rex Ingram and Maurice Tourneur, are no longer interferred with and their work no longer mutilated or changed or added to by vandal hands. And art dramas, conceived and executed by masters of screen craft, cannot be turned out like sausages made by factory hands. A flavor of individuality and distinction of style cannot be preserved in machine-made melodramas—a drama that is passed from hand to hand and concocted by patchworkers and tinkerers.

A thousand times no! For it will always be cousin to the sausage, and be like all other—sausages.

The scenes of a master’s drama may have a subtle pictorial continuity and a power of suggestion quite like a melody that is lost when just one note is changed. And the public is the only test of what is eternally true or false. What right have two or three people to deprive millions of art lovers of enjoying an artist’s creation as it emerged from his workshop?

“The Rubaiyat” was my first picture and produced in spite of continual and infernal interferences. It has taught me several sad lessons, which I have endeavored in the above paragraphs to pass on to some of my fellow sufferers. It is the hope that I am fighting, to a certain extent, their battle that has given me the courage to continue, and that has prompted me to write this article. May such hubbubs eventually teach or inforce a decent regard for the rights of authors and directors and tend to make the existence of screen artisans more secure and soothing to the nerves.

FERDINAND EARLE.

---

☕Appreciate my work? Buy me a coffee! ☕

Transcribed Sources & Annotations over on the WMM Blog!

See the Timeline for Ferdinand P. Earle's Rubaiyat Adaptation

49 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 2 years

Text

I haven’t read a whole lot of TMA fic, so I’m sure this already exists somewhere, but I really want a time travel fic where Jon goes back to Gertrude’s era.

So it’s 2007-ish, before his younger counterpart has started working at the Institute, but years into Elias and Gertrude’s tenure. They’re having a normal day serving the semi-omniscient fear god when a fucking full-fledged avatar of the Beholding - complete with a small mountain of tapes - falls through a rift in space-time and crash lands on Gertrude’s desk.

(Season 5 Jon might have decided not to kill Helen and instead used her to get here. If he ever sees her again they’re going to have A Talk™ about her choice of transportation.)

For the record, a hot mess of a man falling from the sky indoors is only like... the eighth most interesting thing to happen to Gertrude this week. Still, it’s clear he’s not entirely human - one gets a sense for these things, even without a giant eyeball’s help - and she’s got a knife on him faster than you can say “Statement.” This doesn’t seem to faze the man.

That annoys the fuck out of Gertrude.

Meanwhile, Elias has nearly passed out from the supernatural alarm bells going off in his head because the Ceaseless Watcher’s special little boy is here!!! What does that mean? Hell if he knows, but this man is ALIGHT with the Entities’ marks, just dripping with the power of the Eye, and Elias finds he has the sudden urge to drop to his knees before this stranger, something he’s only ever done post-Watcher’s Crown.

(This might be a Jonlias fic, whoops.)

Elias, seeing The Archivist for the first time: 😍😍😍😍😍

Gertrude, seeing The Archivist for the first time: 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

So after introductions Jon is all, “Yes, I’m an eldritch monster that’s forced to feed off the trauma of others, but I’m your eldritch monster. Please, Gertrude, I’d like nothing more than to carve out Magnus’ heart with you so he can’t destroy the whole fucking world.”

Elias, suddenly experiencing true fear for the first time in decades, feeding the Eye and being fed in turn and basically entering a feedback loop where this powerful stranger threatening to murder him is the hottest thing he’s ever Seen: !!!!! 💖💞😱!!!!!🤩😊💚!!!!!

And at first Gertrude’s like hell no, not having any more goddamn avatars in my archives thank you, but then the trio passes young intern Sasha James (shhh don’t worry if that fits the timeline) and Jon looses it. The hold that the Stranger had on him in his original timeline has broken and he’s able to recognize this as the real Sasha - her face, her voice, her very panicked looks towards her bosses as this random man sobs into her shoulder. And Gertrude’s like dammit, clearly The Archivist still has some of his humanity left. No true Fear monster would ever willingly be that embarrassing.

After prying Jon away from Sasha and promising her a raise to avoid any HR reports, they get the whole long, traumatic story out of him, but any plans to just permanently kill Elias kinda... sputter out. It’s a little bit of a Web thing, a little bit of a time travel thing, and a little bit of Jon just feeling... wrong when he considers it, no matter what he’s told Gertrude. It’s similar to when he let Annabelle live, though Elias has done absolutely fuck-all to earn his mercy. This confuses Jon, though it’s pretty far down on his list of worries.

The good news is that Jon’s mere presence puts a permanent wrench in Elias’ plans. He’s never going to repeat the ritual to open the door, obviously, and good fucking luck marking another archivist while he’s Watching. Given Jon’s suspicions that he became semi-immortal after waking from his coma, he’ll be Watching a damn long time, you megalomaniacal bastard.

The bad news is that since Elias can no longer plot an intricate manipulation, he’s decided that the next best thing is to just convince Jon to bring about the end of the world willingly.

By wooing him.

Elias: “We can be Kings of a ruined world together, Jon~”

Gertrude: “I am not paid enough for this.”

So begins the office romance comedy of Jon’s nightmares, where instead of hating him for ruining his world domination plans, Elias is smitten - in a suave, very creepy kinda way - and has decided that he’ll simply wait Jon out, wearing him down until the inevitable day when he realizes that they were meant to be. A full-fledged Archivist was dropped into his lap, ranting about how he out-foxed a future version of Elias, tormented by his own monstrosity, and people expected his narcissistic ass to not fall head over heels with his own creation?? As if.

Jon is Not Having A Good Time.

Originally when he landed here he was all, “Where is my Martin whom I love so dearly? Where is the support and companionship that I crave?” But after ‘bumping into’ him a few times outside the Institute, Jon comes to the bitter conclusion that whatever connection they had is gone. He recalls Martin’s firm belief that they never would have become a couple without all the trauma they’d been through and though this time around Jon definitely doesn’t hate him... he doesn’t love him either. Oh, he loves that he exists, seeing Martin whole and blissfully ignorant of the Fears helps heal something in Jon, but it takes him a very long time to admit that he’s too nice. Too caring. Too tentative in his insecurity. Jon grinds his teeth and admits in the privacy of his own thoughts that he was attracted to a bastard version of Martin, one who showed off a little bit of his own monstrosity, was connected to his own domain, could cut just as cruelly with his words as Jon could with his powers... Meeting with him now over coffee, inches away, Jon has never felt farther from him. This Martin simply isn’t a part of the world that created Jon.

Good, he decides and firmly steers Martin away from the Institute. Thanks to some blackmail and Peter Lukas’s money, Martin finds himself with a caretaker for his mom and the promise of a full ride through whatever creative writing program he can get into.

Meanwhile, Elias is of course stalking and spying on Jon whenever he can, doing the metaphorical equivalent of doodling hearts in his notebook whenever he catches a glimpse of why Jon no longer connects with Martin. He’s a bastard avatar with shitty morals and, frankly, far better taste in poetry. Open your third eyes, Jon!!

Gertrude, who avoided sacrificing Michael after a stern talking to from Jon: “You sure you don’t want the Spiral to eat you, kid? Anything’s better than watching this clusterfuck.”

Michael: 🙃🙃🙃

After a while the Institute settles into a new kind of normal. Jon, Gertrude, and Michael defend the archives from the slew of enemies they’ve both amassed, stopping the occasional ritual in their free time. Jon has long come to the conclusion that the Fears couldn’t have originated here - not with the Eye being unable to see its own creation - so starving them in this reality at the expense of their world wouldn’t serve the greater good. The best they can do is continually contain them - which they’ve gotten real good at. Elias continues to bother Jon with a fervor that’s almost admirable (he can see how this guy managed plans for upwards of 200 years) and waffles between playing the Mysterious Boss archetype that he’d used on Jon the first time around, and just giving in to the utter adoration he feels whenever Jon is in the room. It’s clear he’s long since started worshiping Jon rather than the Eye and the Eye is... totally fine with that?

Gertrude: “How did you get the Ceaseless Watcher to treat you like a favored child?”

Jon: Trauma?? 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

After seeing how much happier Martin is, Jon guides the rest of his former assistants away from the Institute, Sasha included. It helps, a little, but it also makes him even more isolated than he was the first time around.

Gertrude realizes this, so when Elias’ flirting - “I’ve found a fresh statement for you, Jon. Oh do stop glaring, it’s just a bit of chloroform. She’ll wake up soon. You can’t be satisfied with stale writings for forever” - starts inducing more fond annoyance than fear or horror, she becomes #Concerned.

Gertrude: “You realize that desensitizing you to his actions was the point all along, right?”

Jon: “Mmhm. But is it still manipulation if I know it’s manipulation?”

Gertrude: “You cannot possibly be considering this.”

Jon: “Would it help if I admitted that dating Elias wouldn’t be the worst decision I’ve ever made?”

Gertrude: “NO.”

The thing is, Jon liked Elias before he revealed himself to be an immortal body-snatcher hell-bent on creating... well, hell on Earth. He liked the soft academic exterior, his careful words, love of organization and attention to detail, the dry humor, cutting intellect, those suits that likely cost more than three months of his salary combined... In fact, Jon is now in a place to vividly remember the embarrassment he felt while interviewing for the archivist’s position, too busy avoiding looking at Elias’ lips to catch the hungry glint in his eye.

Of course, that Elias only exists as a veneer... though what was Jon’s “I’m just a normal man going grocery shopping, please ignore my scars and aborted grab as I resist demanding a statement from you” if not a veneer of its own? Where did their ‘real’ selves begin and their conscious choices end? The most awful thing about all this is that Elias is right. Oh, not about them being Kings of a ruined world, but about how no one but another avatar can truly understand an avatar. By this point Jon is years past his coma, fully at peace - or at least, as at peace as he’ll ever get - with the fact that he chose to live as a monster rather than die as a human. That means Knowing things at his leisure... though he tries not to catch anything private. It means Compelling others to provide him with more knowledge... though he’s careful with his questions around friends. It means Feeding off of others’ worst moments in life... though Jon restricts himself to statements that Gertrude has collected first, so that he never haunts anyone’s dreams. And it means spending the majority of his time with other monsters and monster-aligned allies... though Jon plants his feet firmly in his human morals and refuses to budge.

If he can navigate all that, why not this too?

Elias has said more than once that he would make Jon the worst version of himself - said with such glee and promise as to almost, almost sound like something Jon wants. Jon figures that the worst version of Elias, from his perspective, would be to look a bit more human.

“We can bring out the worst in each other,” he agrees one day, followed by a shark-like grin.

Elias hasn’t the faintest idea what he’s just gotten himself into.

And that feels wonderful. Manipulating him into being a marginally better person who doesn’t bring about the apocalypse might actually be more satisfying than stabbing him. The Elias of Jon's original timeline would have HATED this and that makes Jon do a happy little wiggle whenever he thinks about it.

Gertrude: “You’re leashing a fucking dragon, Sims.”

Jon: “Better than letting it roam free.”

Gertrude: “Just so long as he doesn’t chew through the reins.”

Jon: “Yeah well, I’ll be the first one burned if that happens” and he holds up his charred hand with a shrug.

So begins the most messed up courting ritual the world has ever seen. Do they work as a couple? Oddly enough, yes. Amazingly well, in fact. Is it a healthy relationship? LOL yeah right. But then that’s rather the point. Jon gave up on that the day he acknowledged that, yes, a part of him liked being the most powerful being roaming a hellish landscape - liked not being vulnerable for once. Back when he’d first joined the Institute, post-breakup with Georgie, Jon couldn’t even imagine someone liking him enough to grab a drink after work. He’s past pretending that having the cult-like devotion of a lover, the favor of a Fear god, and the grudging respect of everything else that goes bump in the night isn’t really fucking nice.

Sometimes Elias plays the part of a compassionate human for Jon, as a treat. Sometimes Jon let’s Elias bask in another’s terror, as a treat. Sometimes Jon is Jonathan Sims and sometimes he’s The Archivist. “Let’s rule a burned-out world together” becomes a staple request in their relationship, with Jon always giving Elias the equivalent of a pat on the head and a, “Sure, honey. Maybe next week.” They find something like balance that way.

Plus there’s Gertrude, perpetually in the shadows with an arsenal of weaponry and the promise to obliterate them both if they ever go too far. She reminds Jon of his grandmother when she threatens to fuck them up in the afterlife if they ever make her kill them.

Something, something, dysfunctional eldritch found families are beautiful?

Jon and Elias have achieved something akin to an uncanny, domestic bliss when Elias points out that this body won’t last forever...

Jon Does Not Like the idea of Elias kidnapping another innocent.

However...

Jon: “You know Jurgen Leitner is living in the Institute’s tunnels, right?”

And they lived ever after. The “happily” is highly subjective.

Bonus:

Post-apocalypse!Jon meeting with Original!Jon to warn him away from the Institute, painfully thin ever since his coma, hip-length hair streaked unnaturally white, a slew of scars covering every available bit of skin, the slightest green glow behind his eyes, somehow looking supremely confident and powerful while also embodying the most Awkward Academic you’ve ever seen: Hey.

Og!Jon: G-good lord!

Jon: It’s okay. You can say ‘fuck.’ Please say ‘fuck,’ Jon. We deserve it.

#TMA #The Magnus Archives #TMA fic #Jonlias #Jon/Elias

190 notes · View notes

deityoftherain · 9 months

Text

post-concert highs (Geminitay Appreciation <333)

Sweat dripped off Gem’s face, down her arms, and soaked her clothing. Working under the heat of the spotlights for an hour and a half would do that to anyone. She was sure she smelled and that her clothes would need to be run through the washing machine twice but these shows always felt so exhilarating that she couldn’t dwell on the discomfort for long.

“Woo!” Impulse enthusiastically threw his hands up in the air once they entered the room. They had recently finished performing and talking to fans at a meet and greet. “Fantastic job, everyone! That was great!”

“I’ll never get over this high.” Scott looked exhausted but the grin on his face was wide. He bent over to grab a few water bottles from the flat for himself and his bandmates. When he turned back to them, he called out, “Hey, catch!” The first bottle was tossed to Impulse, who caught it with ease. Gem was thrown the next one. She had to reach a bit to be able to catch it before it hit something other than her hands but she did manage it. Scott and Impulse both cheered for her.

“It’s so cool that they love our music.” Gem felt pride build in her chest. They had released their first album “Cherry Blossoms” and they were overwhelmed with love and support. Gem wasn’t sure how so many people discovered their little band from the middle of nowhere online but she was not going to complain. Impulse had always been the one to handle their @gemandthescotts social media accounts and then the label whom they now work under. He would be the one to know all of the behind-the-scenes work on that front. Maybe she should ask him in-depth about it one day. “I wasn’t sure if we would’ve ever gotten out of my mom’s garage.”

“I knew we would.” Scott leaned forward to grab one of the towels sitting on the coffee table. He used it to help some of the sweat drifting off of him but he made sure not to touch his eye makeup. The blue would mark the white towel easily, seeing how much sweat would combine with it. “We did win our town’s Battle of the Bands three years in a row.”

“We also sucked for a long time though.” Impulse chuckled as he thought back to when they were still learning and finding their sound. “Your mom tried to be polite but I think we are the real reason she soundproofed the garage when we were ten.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Gem snorted at that. “She did always die on the inside when I said Scott was coming over.”

“Which one?” Scott asked, greatly amused at Gem’s words. Her mom had always been great to all three of them and they all loved her but they did like to joke around about being her annoying children. “Impulse Scott or me Scott?” “Both, duh. Mom would live in fear, never knowing which Scott was coming to haunt her doorstep!” Gem put on her best ghostly voice, even adding little ghost “oooo”ing noises at the end.

“She must have been so relieved when we started calling Impulse by a nickname.” Scott shifted his gaze to Impulse, a sly look in his eyes. “That way she could remember that Impulse was the one bad at the drums.” Impulse gasped, returning Scott’s sly expression with a flabbergasted one. “What do you mean? Are you saying I haven’t always been this perfect? I will let you know that my rhythm has been impeccable since I first held a pair of drumsticks.” “I could say I would pay to experience that again but I value being able to hear too much so I will have to graciously decline.” Scott continued to tease his friend, which just made Impulse gasp dramatically again.

Their lighthearted quips went back and forth for several moments. Gem just smiled lazily at them, taking sips of her water as she listened. She was grateful to have her closest friends as her bandmates. “You both are idiots.”

“How am I an idiot when I am supposed to be the smart Scott?” Impulse’s attention turned to her for a moment before shifting to side-eye Scott. “That guy though… hmm…” “Oh, shove off.” Scott tossed the now-empty water bottle at Impulse. It managed to hit his knee but it didn’t do anything more than make a few little crinkly sounds.

“I don’t know why we’re even friends.” Impulse wiped several non-existent tears from his eyes. “You’re so mean to me.”

“You love me.” Scott blew him a kiss in response. Impulse grabbed the blown kiss from the air and placed it on his cheek. “Hey, where is my kiss?” Gem scrunched her nose at them, a false hurt written all over her face. “Last I heard, it’s ‘Gem and the Scotts’, not ‘Dumb and Dumber’! Don’t I deserve some love too?”

Impulse and Scott shared brief eye contact, mischief radiating off of them now. Oh no. What did she manage to spur both of them on about at the same time? Did all guys named Scott have a telepathic link that she didn’t know about?

Next thing she knew, Scott had plopped down to her right and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Impulse came in on the other side soon after.

“Hey!” Gem squeaked at their sudden attack. “Gross, I can feel your sweat. I said a kiss! I did not say ‘Everyone, jump on Gem!’” “We’re all sweaty already so it’s all good!” Impulse’s yellow face paint smudged against the black side of her shirt. The yellow side would have faded in more but she knew they would get cleaned enough to get the stain out.

“It can be both,” Scott responded at the same time as Impulse. He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and Gem just laughed at both of them.

“Okay, okay! You win!” Gem spread herself out as a way to nudge them off of her. She wasn’t mad at them but she did require to have her space again. “Off now, please. I am already hot enough without you two breathing on me.”

They complied instantly, getting off of both her and the couch she was sitting on. All three of them were laughing to the point it was a struggle to breathe. Their bodies were reacting to their little exchange, the adrenaline from the show, and the exhaustion they all felt weighing on them. Impulse was even doubling over and Scott had his head thrown back as they did so.

“I need to take a shower, change into something soft, and then pass out as soon as I’m under the covers.” Scott yawned loudly, putting his hand over his mouth as if to cover it.

“I need to take a shower and such too.” Impulse agreed with Scott’s plan of action. “Probably before the post-concert energy wears off.”

Gem groaned, leaning her head back against the couch. “I think it’s already worn off for me.”

“This is just an excuse for a sleepover.” Scott slid off his transparent, blue coat before tossing it on the back of the couch. “We will just do the sleeping part a little earlier than usual.”

“Ooo, yes!” Impulse lit up at Scott’s suggestion. “Gem, would you do us, the Scotts, the honor of having a sleepover in your room?” “You two act like we don’t have sleepovers almost every night.” Gem rolled her eyes affectionately. Everything was an excuse for a sleepover with these two. The question wasn’t if they were going to, because they usually were. It was more of debating if they were going to sleep early or if they were going to do whatever various activities they wanted to before sleeping. “Honestly, you two are so clingy.”

“Maybe,” Scott shrugged a shoulder with a cheeky smile on his face, “but you love us.”

“That’s debatable.” She stretched her arms up with a yawn, joints popping as she did so. Gem breathed out a soft sigh of relief as some of the tension left her. She did feel a little bit better but her body was still sore.

“Hey, you don’t mean that!” Impulse gave her the worst fake pout she had ever seen.

“Mhm, fine. I love you both.” Gem reassured them with a content smile. A happy buzz sent sparkling sensations throughout her body. One of her childhood dreams was becoming her reality and she was doing it with two people she cared deeply for. Nothing could be better than this.

A/N: I meant to write for @dronepikachu's Gem Week but I don't think I will have time before the week is over so here is one I wrote recently that can go under Prompt 1 and Prompt 4 for the writers! I have posted this on my ao3 (@an_anxious_ghost) and my sideblog for fanfic stuff so yes, I am the original author!

35 notes · View notes

hwa-hyun · 13 days

Text

I Can Buy Myself Coffee (with @pardyparderson)

✰ who: Woo/hwa (Seonghwa x Wooyoung)

Note: this is an external work (ao3), only the first chapter will be posted here

36k words, fluff and humour, romance, chaptered

synopsis - flower shop owner!seonghwa and coffee shop owner!wooyoung just can’t seem to get along. one is undeniably weird, the other too pretty for the second one to function.

Chapter 1

He closed his eyes in indulgence and took a deep breath in. Roses, tulips, sunflowers, carnations, baby’s breath and, of course, peonies. A wide variety of flower scents wafted through the little corner shop with broad windows and a little sales counter. Fairy lights adorned the window frames and the ceiling hidden between all the flowers and plants Seonghwa had decided to sell in his soon-to-be newly opened flower shop. It was a dream come true. A very specific dream come true actually.

He smiled happily to himself. It was not yet opening time of his shop, but he was incredibly excited to have his first day. He hoped a few people would find their way into his little space. He put so much love and work in it to make it unique and beautiful. A place where people would like to go, to buy flowers for their loved ones, not just because it was the nearest shop but because they liked the atmosphere and the service as well. Buying flowers should be an experience in itself. Enjoying flowers should always be special.

He had put much thought into it, how he wanted the shop to present itself. A cozy little haven, a garden maybe. A safe space for all who wished to come. He wanted it to be something special for both those who could afford everyday luxury, but also for those who just needed an escape. This was why he had put up some chairs and a small table. The white swirly kind in metal. They were heavy, but worth it, it gave a really nice feel to the shop. He wanted to maybe put some outside as well, if the weather allowed it. And have some more outdoor plants there, too. Moreover, he had placed a nice, old bookshelf in the cozy sitting area of his shop. There were books about flowers and gardening and people could come to read or exchange them. All in all, he was happy. And excited.

With a small sigh he turned to look at the work he had done. It was a lot, a whole week of planting, mounting, moving around and scurrying. Not to forget the stress and intense worrying. What if he didn’t get enough customers? What if they didn’t like his assortment of flowers? What if the interior wasn’t up to par? But, in the end, he believed in himself. Just as all his friends did. He had always had a taste for the little things, and enjoyed making others feel warm and welcomed. This was second nature to him. Therefore, he had to admit, he should be fine. And honestly, popularity wasn’t his goal, as long as he earned enough to make ends meet and the wheels keep turning.

It had been his grandmother that had planted the seed for his blooming love of flowers, but it wasn't until later that he started to make progressive steps. When he attended university he worked part time in a flower shop. It was a really big one, they produced bouquet upon bouquet each week. He knew he was good with them, which was why he had applied there in the first place. But working there, after a couple of months it felt less and less good. It wasn’t everything he had hoped it would be. It wasn’t connecting with the customers and caring softly for even the sick plants. It wasn’t light pouring in through tall windows and the smell of fresh soil. It was anti bug chemicals, it was quick phone calls with customers who wanted it this way and that way, a boss that never took their worries into consideration. Piles of dead and sick plants around the back. It wasn’t nice. It was money, that’s all it was.

That’s why, when he saw the ad for this place, he knew he had to take it. It had everything a nice, small shop needed. Large windows where lots of sunlight could flow in, high ceilings to make the vines stand out, deep window sills to place even more greenery on. It wasn't a very deep shop, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, the plants needed the light anyway. He had placed the counter in the middle of the shop, right across the door, and then there were two planted areas, one on each side of the door. Instead of rigid shelves he had opted for snaking paths and little tables for the flowers. He wanted the space to feel as close to the outdoors as possible. Flowers weren’t made to be sorted by type and colour, they were made to bloom and stand out, each in their own way. That’s what he tried to reflect.

It had been a long week. Even with the help of his friends, he was glad to see it ended. Though he was sure he would miss it in no time, the anticipation and excitement that had soared through his body in the weeks prior. He had bought the place about a month ago. It wasn’t in his usual crossroads and he had also had to move houses. Or, not had to really, but he preferred to stay closer to his shop. That’s why he had moved into a small flat in the area. It was sort of across the city from where he stayed before, but as it wasn’t that much further from his friends he didn’t mind at all. And it was a quaint little area. The streets were calm but filled with people. At least that was what the brochures had said, he only hoped it would hold some truth.

He wasn’t quite sure when the shop became a dream of his. Maybe when he was a student. Maybe already when he was running around in the fields around his grandparents' house. But he knew one thing, it felt right, it felt like home. He just hoped others would feel the same way.

The fact that a small coffee shop was right across the street from his shop just made everything even better. It meant he could easily get fresh, and hopefully good, coffee, and maybe even a delicious cookie to go with it. Maybe it would even be good for business. Thinking about it and with a glance at the clock, Seonghwa decided he had time for a coffee before his shop would open. He had been here to prepare everything too early and now just needed to bide his time until it was 10 anyway, which was half an hour away. It couldn’t hurt to finally say hello to his new neighbour. Turning on his heels he heard the small wind chime twinkle as he opened the door, good, at least that worked as it should.

—————————————

this has been chapter one of ICBMC! if you like it please consider reading it on ao3, it is finished! the whole fic wont be posted here since it’s so long<3

9 notes · View notes

babydinosaur930 · 3 months

Text

Properly

Alright, I did the thing. Based on this prompt: https://www.tumblr.com/sucksinlosers/750715004100263936/hi-have-a-headcanon

summoning @sucksinlosers per your request.

Available on AO3 and Under the cut

Gale once mentioned how he might have courted Ashni properly were circumstances different. Now that the threat of the absolute is gone he has a chance to do so.

This is just pure fluff.

___

It started as a silly game between herself and Gale. Their first night out in Waterdeep before the wedding. Gale was positively giddy showing her all the things he would have done to court her properly had they met under different circumstances. Things he wanted to do now just because he could.

Ashni watched him with his broad smile, eyes shining under the lights of the city as he described the variety of ways he now imagined a first date and a proper courtship. It was less about trying to woo her in order to prove his worth —something that once plagued him—than a desire to share everything joyful, to live in little fairy tale moments that neither would have imagined might be possible before.

They found themselves nestled between the shelves of his favorite bookshop. Heads tucked together and bent over a book with pages clearly worn from devotion. His arm was wrapped around her waist so she stood snug against his side as he whispered lines of poetry to her. Absorbed in the rhythm of the lines he did not notice her face turned toward him, watching with pure contentment. He smiled as he felt her gaze on him and turned his face toward her. Chuckling softly, he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

This was a favorite spot of his. A place of refuge to hide away during his years as an apprentice. He'd often imagined having someone to share such spaces with. But nothing could match the feeling of holding her here, flush against his side and tucked into the privacy of the shelves.

She broke his contemplation, pressing her forehead to his. “What would you have said?" A playful smirk pulled at her lips, "If you met me here, and were to ask me on a date?”

Gale shifted to look her in the eye. Arm still wrapped around her waist, his eyes full of excited amusement. He gently shut the book in his other hand and placed it back on the shelf. With a boyish grin he tugged her along by the hand to another area of books. He hummed to himself softly as his eyes glided over the rows and plucked one from the shelf.

She laughed when she saw the title. It was another book of poetry. One she'd mentioned to Gale early on after they first met. She knew the lines by heart but still there was something to the ritual of reading from the page. She appreciated his dedication to adding some realism to the scenario. After all, there was no conceivable reason she would have ever found herself in Waterdeep before Gale. But it was a book she'd have carried.

He waltzed her to an opening between the shelves where two chairs sat before a glowing hearth and gestured for her to sit down as he pressed the book into her hands. He bent down to kiss the top of her forehead and with a whisper he spoke, “wait here.”

He rounded the shelves and picked up another book. Meandering through as if he’d just entered. As if he didn’t know her. Hadn’t asked her to marry him weeks earlier. Opening his own book he watched her over the pages with eyes full of awe, as if she were the expanse of the ocean and he had never before seen the sea.

He moved to read in the chair next to her. Letting himself get absorbed in his own book but still glancing her way from time to time. He waited for her to reach the end of the first selection.

He registered the turn of her lips into a nostalgic smile as she read the final lines. She'd almost forgotten his presence, almost. He leaned toward her from his chair and made a soft sound of approval. Glancing up at him she was met with a warm expression. "Pardon me, miss." He kept his voice low and gentle, respecting the space around them. "I didn't mean to interrupt your reading. I simply admire your taste in prose. That collection is under-appreciated. I've not known many who are familiar."

She grinned back at him and he took the invitation to shift closer. As they bent their heads together in quiet conversation, each of them awe struck by the other, passersby could have mistaken it as a chance meeting of two kindred souls.

***

That’s how it began. They’d been married a few months now. But the game continued and was becoming decidedly more complex as their friends got involved.

“Stop. Moving.” Shadowheart’s hand hovered in front of Ashni’s face with an eye pencil clutched between her fingers.

Ashni straightened with a huff and tried not to breathe. Shadowheart poked the bottom of Ashni’s chin and lifted it just so to get a better angle. “Why am I letting you do this again?” Ashni muttered.

“Because he found you too easy last time." Shadowheart brushed a few stray hairs from Ashni’s face as she resumed her work. "Just because he plays along doesn’t mean he didn’t find you in the first three minutes by the feel of your magic alone.”

Ashni rolled her eyes, twisting the wedding band around her finger.

Astarion crossed into the room, carrying another piece of fabric folded over his arm. “Come now darling, I thought you wanted to give him a proper challenge.” His tone teasing as he held up the dress, presenting it to Shadowheart.

She squinted at it, pondering. “I like the green one better. It just needs to have the waistline taken in a touch.”

Astarion nodded in agreement and glided back toward the table for his needle.

“Alright.” Shadowheart rubbed her hands together. “Now for your horns.”

***

Ashni hadn’t been entirely certain what to expect but she stared in shock at a face she didn’t recognize in the mirror. She had doubted that Shadowheart could convincingly cover the scales across her forehead and cheekbones without magic but she had stretched and pressed something across her face and blended it into her skin. For the first time in her life the whole of her face appeared smooth. She’d added some kind of molding clay to her horns so they no longer resembled their natural shape but looped outward.

The sharpness of her jaw and cheekbones were rounded so that her face appeared more full. Her eyeliner followed the natural slope of her round eyes but extended downward. Ashni lifted a finger to poke at the edge of her eye, suddenly uncertain where her natural lid actually ended but Shadowheart swatted her hand away with a tut.

The little wrinkle that appeared between her eyebrows when she fixated on something was offset by a soft line angled above it and across her forehead. It was as if she'd spent her life holding an entirely different expression. She scrunched her face in the mirror trying to find the expression Shadowheart had mapped onto her face. It was more of an eyebrow raise than the furrowing together that came naturally to her.

Shadowheart snickered. "Certainly don't do that in public."

Ashni swiveled around on her stool with an accusing glare in Shadowheart's direction. "Are you sure you didn't use magic?"

She tossed a strand of hair over her shoulder with a smirk, "it's called talent dear."

Astarion re-entered with the green tunic, having made a few adjustments and Shadowheart clapped her hands excitedly. His eyes widened a moment as he took in Ashni. Passing the clothes to her he paced two steps back to admire Shadowheart's work. "Well darling. Now that is something. I rather think you missed your calling Shadowheart."

***

Gale approached three different people first. He excused himself quickly. Whatever the disguise, Ashni was no actor and the countenance of each person swiftly revealed that they could not be her. Still, Gale was almost concerned. This was the tavern they’d set, yes ? Maybe he was early? No. Certainly not. She was here somewhere. No doubt watching him in deep amusement.

He rounded the establishment enough times to warrant a few wary glances from a number of patrons. But it was the snicker that got him. Ashni tried to stifle the sound with her hand but she was too slow. He turned to face her and his head tilted in confused astonishment. His eyes narrowed as he tried to see past the disguise. He'd passed her over several times, every familiar feature morphed into some natural variant that he'd hardly registered her before.

He closed the distance between them with a relieved chuckle. Reaching for her face he cupped her cheek with one hand and softly ran a thumb across her forehead, then her cheeks, and between her brows. Searching for signs of her beneath the disguise. She smiled into his touch and he felt her face furrow beneath the pad of his thumb. He spoke through a breathy laugh.

“Where is my wife?”

Ashni pulled back, feigning confusion. "Your wife?" She stammered with dramatic flair and her tail flicked behind her. “Good sir, we have never met." She placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. "Are you quite alright? Do you need to sit down?"

Her theatrics snapped him from his haze. He straightened himself and withdrew his hand from her face. “Ah yes, my apologies." He stumbled a moment for words before taking the seat beside her and thanked her for her kindness. "Are you new to Waterdeep?”

"I am." Her eyes brightened as he took the place beside her. "Though I've yet to see much of it."

"It is a wonderful city," he mused. "You are rather lucky. I've known Waterdeep all my life."

"Have you now?" She raised an eyebrow. "Lucky indeed." Placing her elbows on the table she folded her hands beneath her chin. She settled her gaze on him and he felt his breath catch. "Tell me about your city then. Perhaps you might show me around."

He beamed. "It would be my honor."

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale x ashni #gale x tav #gale x oc #gale x named tav #baldurs gate 3 gale #pure fluff #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic prompt

13 notes · View notes

puzzlebeanficrecs · 1 year

Text

It's summer, and that means we have time to sit in the sun with a nice drink and time to read all the fics we want to. If you are looking for a nice, wonderful, Stucky fic to occupy your summer days with, look no further. This little list will help you out!

Not In The Answer But The Question by aimmyarrowshigh @aimmyarrowshigh (Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, 27,382 words)

It rankles that his drink was made before he even got a chance to order it.

What if he wanted a change?

What if he were adventurous and bold?

What if he tried something new?

---

Or, Steve Rogers shakes up his gray daily routine in 2014 by going back home to Vinegar Hill. To his surprise, the Jewish deli he used to frequent with Arnie is still standing.

And Steve's whole life changes again.

Why it's being recced: This story is a beautiful deep dive into Steve’s life and the way he feels about adjusting to a new century, himself and Captain America. It's enhanced by food, Jewish culture, the Barnes Deli, queerness, disability, Brooklyn, and the love Steve and Bucky find with each other. The writing takes you by the hand and leads you through the story, through the feelings it evokes. This is truly everything I could ever want from a Stucky fic.

The Roommate by Niitza (Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, 28,632 words)

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Why it's being recced: This is a wonderful story about people only seeing what they want to see and also Steve being seen for who he is by Bucky, when others don't. The fic also goes into privacy and how people assume someone like Steve doesn't deserve it. Though, of course, Bucky does think so. The characterization of Steve and Bucky is spot on in this. I also really enjoyed the multiple POV's. It added to the premise of the story and it was interesting to have a glimpse into different characters' heads.

Cynics are Simply Thwarted Romantics by Reccea (Unrated, No Archive Warnings Apply, 13,746 words, Archive Locked)

"It could be alien technology," Natasha offered, folding her arms over her chest. "Something he stumbled on. They're still finding things from the Chitauri so it's not impossible. But the simplest answer is the most likely."

"How is magic the simplest answer?" Stark asked.

In which Steve is Sleeping Beauty and true love's kiss doesn't have to be requited. Or does it?

Why it's being recced: This is a fun and compelling story, filled with magic, true love's kiss and wondering whether the love you feel for someone is requited or not. The friendship between Sam, Bucky, and Steve is also wonderful in this and the ending of the story makes me smile.

I Can't Do Everything (But I'll Do Anything For You) by musette22 @musette22 (Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply, 24,576 words)

Steve Rogers cares about a lot of things, but dating isn’t one of them – much to his fellow Avengers’ bemusement. It’s just never been very high on his list of priorities, falling somewhere behind his work, his friends, his hobbies, and that excellent pepperoni pizza from Vinnie’s on Flatbush Ave.

That is until one night, Natasha drags Steve out to a charity music concert by some hotshot singer that Steve has never actually heard of (which would surprise exactly no one, seeing as Steve is still partial to his records and his radio plays). And as soon as Steve lays eyes on Grammy-award winning musician and international heartthrob James Barnes for the very first time, suddenly he wonders if maybe dating wouldn’t be so bad after all. Dating James Barnes, specifically, that is. The question is just: how does one go about that? Especially one like Steve, who’s never wooed anybody in his century-long life, let alone a man. Let alone a man with long, dark hair, tattoos all over his arms, and a fanbase that rivals Steve’s own.

It’s not like he can just go up to him and say something like, "You and me babe, how about it?"

Why it's being recced: This is a really fun story and Steve and Bucky are so cute in it. I loved how Steve just immediately was completely blown away by Bucky’s beauty. I also really like fics that incorporate music the way this fic does. Music has such a way of changing our lives and this fic felt like that. I also liked how vivid the descriptions are in this story.

A Long, Long Way by thepinupchemist (Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, 5,595 words)

Post-Thanos, post-Captain America, post-Nomad, Steve Rogers is lost. He takes a Volkswagen bus on a self-discovery tour of the United States.

When Steve hits a bicyclist in the Rocky Mountains, he meets the love of his life.

Why it's being recced: I think road trip fics are fun and this one certainly delivers. There's humor, there's sweetness, and the characterization is spot on. I also loved the hype for Cap!Sam and all the references to books.

#stucky #stevebucky #fic rec #fic recs #stucky fic rec #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fic rec #rec list

129 notes · View notes

ssruis · 1 month

Text

Recommending this again bc its got updates. & also because I’m obsessed. It’s so good… go read…

Leaving my full comment here as well bc ao3 called me out for my immensely wordy method of commenting so. Y’know. Spoilers. Go read first.

Nene tucks her bag and coat under one of the seats in the stalls, then tries to find a person who doesn’t look terrifying to speak to so she can ask what they need help with. She barely recognises most of them, having not properly met with any other tech crew since the first rehearsal. Well- maybe if she just…stands here, someone will ask-

HELP… I love her so much. Nene Kusanagi. the most girl of all time.

“It’s so interesting learning about how much there is going on backstage! I guess I never really thought about it before…” Minori leans back to grab more paint, leaving another handprint on her leggings as she does. Should Nene say something…? “I bet the cast work really hard too! Having to sing and dance whilst smiling and acting the whole time too…that’s something I really want to learn!”

yayyy minori she’s so cute :) meeting of the fail girls. I love how you’ve worked in so many of the other pjsk characters in a way that feels very organic (instead of just random roles) and gives them a little spotlight even if they’re not the focus. You can tell there’s so much love and care put into everyone’s characterization.

I…have to be proud of the person I am now, if I want to be proud of the person I’m going to be.”

Wait, what is she saying? That’s not- that’s not something she came up with-

Somewhere tsukasa just got a huge ego boost. Thank god he’s not here he would be so insufferable.

He always speaks to her like a worried parent…the message might as well read ‘did you make lots of friends at your first day of school?’.

So real… he’s so annoying… Rui acting like that despite being like one year older than nene will never not be funny.

“I am about to fall over!” Tsukasa yells back breathlessly, hunching over once the piano stops.

“If you have the air to complain, you have the air to hold that last note!”

Insert the “I’ve hired a tyrannical director” tsukasa quote.

“Right? You’ll be fine.” Rui watches as A bends down to check on Tsukasa, lightly patting his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

Tsukasa has died (cheering) (end story)

“Maybe!” Rui shrugs. “Honestly, I wasn’t completely sure at first, but I’m glad my intuition was correct. Seems like the star quality runs in the family, after all.”

“...I think you’re right,” Nene says quietly.

Nene and tsukasa relationship progression… smiles…

“N-no…” No, don’t remember me from auditions. Actually, please just forget my entire existence-

“Hopefully you make it next time, if that’s what you wanna do!” An says. “A little bit of confidence goes a long way, y’know? And you can always fake it if you’re not sure!”

she’s so funny I loved this part. The nene & an dynamic of girl with horrible social anxiety and girl who is so so cool but also so so excited to get to know everyone will never not be funny.

“Nene, your outfit looks so cute!”

But apparently there’s always one person who manages to find her. Nene looks up from her phone, Emu already barreling over to her. So long as she keeps away from the very heavy, very expensive lighting equipment, they’re fine.

The return of the pink thing… (The crowd goes wild)

Probably because you never sit still, Nene thinks. Especially right now. If Nene is rattling from nerves, Emu looks about to burst with excitement. It must be nice to be immune to any and all fear.

“I hope everyone is gonna enjoy the show tonight!” she says, smile bright even in the dark. “I bet it’s gonna be super wow wow yay yay woo woo!”

1 so true getting that thing to sit still is a losing battle 2 I love how you write her dialogue so much… perfectly straddles the line between her very silly onomatopoeia laden moments and her more serious moments.

“Every time I see the light I’m gonna know it’s you and get super super smiley!”

:) I care them

Nene repositions the light towards the stage, casting the bright circle over Tsukasa. He instantly looks up then recoils at the light, squinting up at them.

“Oi, what’re you doing! That’s bright!”

“Hi Tsukasa!” Emu calls back, waving. “You look super shiny shiny sparkly bright!”

“Oh, really?” His angry face quickly swaps to flattery, and he poses accordingly. Nene turns the light off. “Hey, put it back on!”

I laughed he’s so funny. Anytime Tsukasa gets irritated or upset (or completely unreasonably hesitant about a perfectly safe sane and normal stunt that is definitely necessary for the show) you can just redirect him with flattery. Works every time.

“Are you curious about the hair ties?” she asks. “We’re wearing them in mutual support with Saki, since she can’t be here tonight. She has one too! It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” Nene says. “Is she, um…recovering okay…?”

“I believe so! According to Tsukasa, she should be out in a few days.” Honami laughs. “She really wants to attend closing night…she keeps talking about it non-stop.”

“I was worried talking about it would make her sad, but she seems more excited than anyone else,” Ichika adds. “It’s a really great thing we didn’t have to cancel the show. It would make her really happy to be able to catch our last performance.”

“She should focus on getting better first,” Shiho says, not taking her eyes off her bass. The other two just smile and shrug.

"Let's hope Saki can join us soon," the tall pianist says. Crap, Nene can't remember his name- Aoyagi? Nene isn’t sure what their relationship is, though he has a scrunchie tucked into his shirt pocket too. "She cares about this performance very much."

THATS SO CUTE… I love how well the L/N interactions are written. Shiho & her concern that comes off as uncaring when it’s anything but… also toya with the scrunchie too awww…

Nene stares. “What part of this is fun…?”

“You’re all part of the team, so you all have to join in,” Rui says, and Nene groans, trudging out the pit with the others. It’s fine, if she just hides at the back, maybe she can get away with half-effort… “Here, Nene. You can stand next to me!”

Bastard. Nene jogs alongside Rui, ignoring his pleased expression.

Making a gamer exercise. Rui truly is a bastard.

“So this is what the life of a stage actor is like…” Aoyagi muses from up in front, hands barely stretching past his knees.

I giggled. Truly built like a wet paper bag, that one.

“Something like this is easy for me!” Tsukasa says, still looking strong with his hands planted on his hips. If Nene had more energy, she would stab him right now. “I’m not tired at all!”

And so he lives another day. It’s ok nene. there will be other opportunities.

“Um, no, I think you need to stay with the rest of the cast…” Nene says, aware that the company is mostly split into their separate groups. Surely she’s not supposed to stand alongside the actual important people, like the director, the lead, the important actors…even if it seems like they…want her there?

OUUGH you get it… You Get It… nene is so so loved but her anxiety ridden saw trap of a mind makes that so difficult for her to see.

“Absolutely…”

“Huh?” That’s not what she’d…

“Not!” Tsukasa finishes, holding his head up high. Nene quickly hides any and all concern.

“Makes sense an idiot like you would be stupid to get nervous. I didn’t care anyway.”

HELP…. ‘I didn’t care anyway. Idiot.’ I love how you write them so much.

It’s too soon…she needs Emu to cling to her arm and say stupid stuff so that it doesn’t feel so real-

Obsessed. I know what you are nene.

nene & tsukasa scene

I’m so happy this fic exists all the time but esp during the nene & tsukasa interactions they are so fascinating to me and you write them so well… nene telling tsukasa he’s overthinking it is so funny. I liked the little moment of him having a moment abt whether or not to send saki the pictures it reflects their whole dynamic so well. And him getting the text from saki and going SAKIII 🥺😭 was so cute.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you down here, Nene,” Rui says, and the way his eyes glint with just a little pride make her want to curl up and avoid everyone ever for the next ten hours. She settles for just crossing her arms.

Hes so annoying… I love how you’ve written their dynamic…

“But wow, the others really did a good job with you, Tsukasa,” Rui says, studying Tsukasa appreciatively. “You really look professional. And the hairstyle is very cute.”

“Cute?” Tsukasa narrows his eyes. “I’m not cute! I’m cool! Cool!”

“Yes, yes. Very cool!”

“Hm, that’s right.” Tsukasa flicks a strand of hair back, grinning to himself. “I’m so cool.”

Yuck (said fondly)

“Yes, I think you’ll do well tonight,” Rui says, taking a seat on the table at the side. Can’t he sit on a chair like a normal person?

I grinned at that. I love all the little details you put in your writing like Rui’s passion for sitting like A Weirdo… it’s like putting treats in an enrichment toy for people who are insane about these characters (me) to giggle at.

“You really know the script inside out by this point.”

“Of course I do,” Tsukasa says. “Especially after last night when you made me recite lines whilst throwing goldfish crackers at me…”

“What the hell was that for?” Nene asks Rui.

“It was just really fun!” he says.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you…”

“Don’t worry, we didn’t study too hard last night,” Rui says. “We even watched the original movie to help keep the atmosphere. It’s important to have fun sometimes.”

“Fun for you! You were still throwing stuff at me even then!”

“Well, a good actor needs to be prepared for the unexpected…”

they’re so funny. I can’t keep saying “I love how you write x dynamic” because it’s true for literally every dynamic in this fic…

Emu gasps, jumping back. “Oh, sorry, I mean, um- break your legs, Nene and Rui!”

“No, it sounds kind of terrifying when you say it like that…” Tsukasa mutters.

Emu and inventing entirely new sayings. She’s doing her best <3

Kind of amazing that any guy can sound so sincere singing about love whilst wearing knee-high boots and beaded booty shorts, but.

HELP MEEEE… He really will do anything for a show won’t he.

Nene wishes she could be down there too. More than ever before. To be part of something. To be alongside others. The way Tsukasa gives it his all and shines…Nene wants to try that too. There's a fire down there burning so strong that its sparks are lighting her too.

YESS I loved this part I love the acknowledgement of her competitiveness & “I want to do better I want to be on stage” attitude, and how that drives and motivates her

“I thought so too! They didn’t seem to think it was weird at all. Even my mom said she liked it, but I think she just likes the idea of two guys dating…”

new favorite side character: Fujoshi mom

“O-oh, um, I’m…um…” Nene fumbles for the words. Well, obviously, she took off her tech stuff so they don’t recognise her…and, actually, thinking about it, it’s not like they would let her sit at the table full of cast members anyway. They’re the important ones. Not Nene. Heat rises to her face as she takes a step back, because, seriously, what had she even been thinking, deciding to sit with everyone else like this-

“Nene’s a part of our team!” Tsukasa’s voice thunders out from behind her, and Nene jumps, turning to them. “Of course she can sit here!”

“Yeah, Nene is super important!” Emu adds, jumping up to grab Nene’s arm. “Wiithout Nene we would all be completely in the dark and the audience would just be looking at nothing for two hours!”

WxS is actually a theatre troupe second and a nene hype squad first.

“Wait, Emu!” Tsukasa holds up a hand. “Next time, can you try not kicking me whilst we’re in the Irish dance line?”

“Huh, I kicked you?”

“Oh, I thought I saw that,” Rui says.

“And you’re still telling her to do things the same tomorrow!?”

“Sorry, Tsukasa!” Emu bows. “Next time I’ll try not to kick you so hard.”

“Don’t kick me at all!” Tsukasa sighs, recollecting himself.

Writing group dialogue - esp for a visual novel that relies solely on dialogue and can rely on visuals instead of writing “x said” “y said” - is such a challenge and you do it so well… you can always tell who’s speaking and it flows so nicely…

“I’ll tell Ena and Mizuki not to be too rough tomorrow,” Rui says, then his face turns coy. “I do think that bunny suit looked good on you, Tsukasa.”

(Spraying Rui with water) inside thoughts! Inside thoughts!!!

“That’s my dream role,” Emu says, almost shyly.

“Hm? You want to be Cinderella?”

“I wanna be the cow,” Emu says dreamily.

“The cow-?” Tsukasa chokes. “That’s not even a human role!”

Emu’s face falls. “But I wanna be the cow…”

“Don’t crush Emu’s dreams, Tsukasa,” Nene says.

“It’s not even a speaking role! It’s just a model of a cow on wheels!”

“Tsukasa, we have to be kind to our fellow company members,” Rui says. “I believe in you, Emu!”

Everyone ganging up on tsukasa… you love to see it. My experience with theatre is rather limited, (in that I attended the shows my sister was in, and took photos during their dress rehearsals), but I will say that when my high school put on into the woods we actually had a girl (not my sister, she was the bakers wife) be the cow. The girl actually requested it… she wanted to be the cow... That costume was terrifying. All that to say: I believe in you emu.

“Yeah, after the past two weeks I can see that…” Tsukasa says. Nene is sure she can almost see the trauma in his eyes. Rui tilts his head, suddenly forlorn.

“How can you say that, Tsukasa…? I’ve always been so considerate to your needs. When have I ever done something mean to you?”

“You made me stand on one leg for an entire rehearsal once!”

“To improve your balance and muscle strength-”

They are so irritating.

“Maybe we should consider that for a future show?” Rui says, and Nene suddenly realises something momentous. They’re talking to her because they want to. They’re talking to her because they see her as a friend. And they’re all here because they love theatre and they love putting on shows, and Nene is the same. She loves it too. She belongs here. They’re her friends, too.

I love this part so so much… nene realizing she belongs… I feel like her own hang ups about having friends goes unnoticed by a lot of people in favor of rui’s (which, to be fair, his are a little more blatant). it’s so nice to see a fic that examines nene & her realizing she’s a part of the group and that they all love her.

#mine #I have got to tone it down wrt fic commenting. unfortunately I am annoying about the things I enjoy. gestures to this blog.#my rule of thumb is ‘would I be happy if someone commented that’ & while the answer is yes I am also deranged and verbose #which does not a good benchmark make.

8 notes · View notes