#I mean his name is literally William the Bloody | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amarynthian-chronicles · 18 days

Text

Extended Contract Chapter 1

Fae Prince Sun, Fae Prince Moon, Fae King Eclipse x Witch Reader

(You are a witch that fell for the oldest trick in the book by giving your name to the mischievous Fae princes of the Celestial Court. Such an inconvenience on what was supposed to be a typical office night. You are honestly not having it. They, however, do seem quite happy about having you. You decide to make a deal with the Fae King to regain your freedom. The only thing that is functional in the whole situation is your phone signal in the Fae Kingdom.)

Warnings: kidnapping, suggestive themes, gore and the usual Fae tomfoolery

“May I have your name?“

“Of course, it is Y/N.“

“Your precious contribution is very much appreciated.“

It is not every day that one seals their own fate because of a simple misunderstanding of idioms and literal meanings, but there you were, bound to the realm of the Fae Folk and belonging to the royal twins of the Celestial Court. Mondays were known to be unlucky days, but this was just ridiculous.

You weren't really in the mood for getting abducted, thank you very much.

There were so many assignments and drafts due next week and you feared Vanessa's wrath far more than you feared the dark magic of enamoured Fae.

Furthermore, you had the misfortune of being stuck with those mischievous miscreants in the middle of the witching hour. The law firm building was empty, the cranky doorman had left hours ago and the janitor had the habit of never arriving before six in the morning. You could scream, but that would not do much good. The cameras did not pick up sound and technology could not record the presence of the Fae, so the only thing you would accomplish is create evidence of your own insanity.

“Excuse me, I really must protest.“

You were in the process of trying to escape the grip of the regal solar-themed Fae. He seemed rather amused, since you weren't really successful, but he almost seemed to be playfully encouraging you to keep trying. Prince Sun had always been a very supportive person, even if he was the one causing the problem in the first place.

“Go on, beautiful, nobody is stopping you. I think that every once in a while everybody needs to raise objections and such. It is healthy.“

His lunar twin grinned, red eyes glowing with roguish mirth.

“I wholeheartedly agree with you, brother. We fully encourage sincerity and dialogue.“

You told them that you wanted to make an appeal. They happily informed you that such a thing was not possible and that you officially belonged to them. You were certainly not touched by their infectious enthusiasm. After all, being gifted with a human's True Name was an experience akin to a cat falling into a whole box full of catnip for them.

“You will play with us forever."

“The Celestial Court is a wondrous place.“

“Word games galore.“

“But beware, for danger lurks in each syllable, my love.“

“Blades caress the consonants and glide along the vowels.“

“Running is futile, but at least it is a very healthy activity. It is always important to get some cardio for the day.“

By all logic, you should be feeling some form of despair and terror, but you were mostly suffering from a horrible case of injured pride. You had fallen for the oldest trick since the dawn of magic. You were an absolute idiot. True, you were running on two cups of coffee, you had not slept properly in a week and your blood sugar levels were more tragic than Shakespeare's “Hamlet“. In your defense, working for William Afton, attorney at law, was no walk in the bloody park. Especially when you had Vanessa as your immediate taskmaster.

You had grown tired of struggling, giving yourself a few moments of respite. Prince Sun was holding you bridal style, his blue gaze soft, showing a type of adoration one would give to a hidden treasure, a joy one experiences when holding a droplet of water in a desert.

Prince Moon had a personality that was diametrically opposite to that of his brother. Hunger reigned in his eyes. Your essence was intoxicating, calling for him, enticing him. You dared not even imagine what his claws could do to you, nor what he could accomplish with his razor-sharp teeth.

Rowan charms could no longer save you, nor could silver. Leaves of holly had no more power, either. You couldn't bribe the royal twins with cream either, since apparently you were the new dessert in the grand scheme of things.

Moon reached out with his claws, searching for your delicate hand. He traced his claw along the sensitive flesh of your inner wrist with all the fervour and ardour of a lover, inspecting the soft skin. Upon giving your name to them, two different markings had manifested on each inner wrist respectively. A crescent moon on the right one and the mark of the sun on the left one.

“Gentlemen, there has obviously been a bit of a miscommunication.“

“Yes, those tend to be very practical in our line of work.“

“I don't have time for this, do you have any idea how many assignments I have due next week?“

“Actually, we do. I must voice our disapproval of you overworking yourself in general. Following orders of such unworthy scoundrels.“

“Well, I am not really in the mood for changing one group of masters for another. I wish to be taken to the Fae King.“

“You will meet him later anyway, he is a bit busy now.“

“No, no, not in that way. I wish to make my complaint.“

“Haven't we closed that topic already?“

“I demand my freedom back. You two said that King Eclipse could grant it to me if I convince him to. Although, I see now that this statement does not exclude you two being capable of the same thing and most likely you are just using the wording to trick me to stop asking you.“

“Can you blame us?“

“Yes. I blame you. And I judge you.“

In spite of it all, you had to admit the celestial princes were quite handsome and their appearance would normally be breathtaking, if you weren't meeting them under such circumstances.

In a resting position, their large wings almost appeared like regal capes. Complementary colours reigned in their respective palettes. Deep royal blues of Prince Moon's wings were speckled with tiny stars, while the rich golden hues of Prince Sun's had swirls of blue interwoven in their texture. In a way, the twins were perfectly symmetrical when it came to the design of their wings. Their attire was similar to that of jesters, but far more elaborate and indicative of their status. Silk and velvet were present, bejeweled buttons, finely tailored doublets.

Both of them were eager, lovestruck and needy. To a degree you almost felt like a lamp attracting a pair of silly mothlings. Which was fitting, considering they too had wings and all.

As Moon was still caressing you along your inner forearm, Sun could not resist nuzzling your hair. You could have sworn that you heard both of them purr. A part of you wondered how on earth did such a scene appear on the cameras, were you simply just floating around and talking to yourself? You internally apologized in advance to any poor security worker that would have to go through the recordings later.

Sun's voice brought you back from your silly reveries, his cheek resting on your head.

“As soft as silk.“

You had been somewhat aware that a pair of Fae had been hunting you for the past several weeks, but it was impossible to decipher their identity. Their glamour and shielding spells had been extremely powerful, their cunning unparalleled and their tricks endless. In many ways, they had been testing you, the purity of your heart and the strength of your soul. They would come to you, disguised either as lost little animals in need of help, or as injured humans in need of assistance. You would always help, no questions asked and always ignoring the warning tingle of enemy magic. Your mind had completely warped to the logic of the normal world and you no longer asked yourself the questions a witch would.

You did not suspect the odd new coworkers that had appeared out of nowhere either, nor did you seem to wonder where they had come from. You had simply accepted that you probably just never noticed them before and that they had always been there. A few pleasantries here, a few kind words there, and that had been all. Of course, all up till tonight when the name trick finally came to rip the veil of denial off.

You huffed, unphased by Sun's compliments regarding your hair.

“Were you the one that has been making those silly fairy-locks I kept waking up with? Those are impossible to untangle!“

“Technically you are not supposed to do that, elsewise you bring misfortune upon yourself. The poor keyboard on your laptop suffered a premature death because of that.“

“I really liked that laptop.“

“I know.“

“It was brand new.“

“May it rest in peace.“

You looked over at the little digital clock on a nearby desk. The witching hour was almost over and the power of the Fae would slightly weaken after four in the morning. If you somehow escaped them, maybe you could distract them enough till the desired hour strikes. Your magical weapons may at least have a fair chance afterwards.

You gasped as Moon leaned closer to you, his hand caressing your cheek, sliding down to your neck, distracting you with pleasurable sensations and making your spine tingle.

“What is going on in that pretty little head of yours, wishing star?“

“Nothing much, honestly.“

Both of them spread their giant wings, showing all of their glory, then draped them over you in what one may interpret as a soothing and protective gesture, but given the circumstances, it was also a demonstration of entrapment.

Impish jesters, forever grinning, forever teasing.

It was one thing to be bound and made to serve an ordinary fairy. It was a completely different thing to be serving the royal twins of the Celestial Court. They were dangerous, powerful, their stature surpassed even the tallest of humans, their urges were never satisfied and their desires never at rest. Not to mention that they were the most competent tricksters of the Fae kingdom.

Fairies were incapable of lying. Therefore, they had to resort to literal meanings and multiple interpretations, distortions, tricks. You could imply one thing that was perfectly accepted and understood in human society, but they would purposefully give it an obscure meaning that was still not a falsehood.

Your predicament was ironic in many ways. Embarassing even. To be precise, you came from a long line of magical practitioners that had been known over the centuries as the Cunning Folk. Various terms existed for such people, but in the modern times the closest definition would be light witches. It was an adequate name that differentiated them from warlocks or dark witches.

You, dear Y/N, had done your best in life to keep the madness of magic at bay. Yes, you knew how to ward yourself from curious spirits, you always had your trusted rolled up newspaper at the ready to hit the local boogeyman on the head when he was living rent-free under your bed, and pretty much every imp on the block knew to avoid you if they wanted to keep all their limbs attached.

Fae Folk, however, were a different story. Long ago, it had been a custom for the Fae to connect to members of the Cunning Folk in order to form a soul bond. A familiar and their witch, in a way. It had always been a connection stronger than any spell and a love more intense than any passionate marriage.

All of that had changed when the realm of the Fae had been afflicted by a darkness far more potent than any light spell could heal. The Hopes and Dreams of children had become scarce and all that was once joyful and innocent had become corrupted and ruined. The Fae King had become cruel and wicked, his once cheerful and loving demeanour had transformed into that of a deranged villain. He did have an odd shift of behaviour on certain birthdays, though, and this would usually take everyone aback for a solid twenty-four hours.

In light of all that, the Cunning Folk had gone into hiding and refused any new bonds with the Fae. This was unacceptable, since the Fae had depended immensely on the sweet nectar that human souls could provide, especially when that soul happened to be a magical one. Consequently, over the centuries the Fae had to resort to various tricks, from luring humans into their fairy circles, kidnapping them and taking them to their kingdom, tricking them with various word games and always having them fall in traps when they least expected it. Certain Fae were less malevolent and were simply in dire need and want of being parents to a child, so they would take human babies to raise them as their own, leaving changelings in their place.

And despite all your efforts, you still managed to become a captive. Go figure.

Prince Sun, ruler of the waking dreams, bringer of hope, and Prince Moon, protector of sleeping children and vanquisher of nightmares. All of those titles did sound pretty cute, but both of them were still impish fiends that loved to play pranks on adults. Oh, well, your time was running out, so you had to think of something fast. Or at least try to reach the little dagger with Runes that you had all nicely hidden and tucked away in a secret pocket of your trousers. You never knew when you would need to stab something supernatural. Or open an envelope.

You concocted a little plan and hoped for the best.

Trickery was not limited to the Fae and you lowkey felt proud of your cunning ways as you pulled Moon into a deep kiss, much to his initial shock. He began to eagerly reciprocate, the sweet haze of lust conspiring against him, your softness and loveliness engulfing his mind. Desire was a natural solvent to rational thought and you had no problems with using that against him. Sun, on the other hand, was both shocked, and slightly jealous, but he did know that something was off.

His suspicions were only confirmed when, in the span of several seconds, you pulled out a silver dagger with enough Runic carvings to obliterate a whole magical army, casually stabbed Moon's heart as if the very gesture was the most normal thing in the world, used Sun's surprise to wriggle out of his grasp and you ran away down the corridors like a feral kitten. Well, at least you were productive.

As you ran, your phone began to ring, conveniently giving up your location in the process, but oh well. It was Vanny, so of course you had to pick up.

“Y/N, where is that briefing paper that you were supposed to email me literally yesterday?“

“I'm in a bit of a situation, Vanessa.“

“What is it now?“

“Well, apparently I am getting married.“

“Congratulations, I still want that briefing.“

“I will call you back, alright?“

Meanwhile, Prince Moon was having a bit of an existential crisis. He stood there, shocked, dagger protruding from his heart.

Oh, yes, it hurt. It burned, stinged, all of the unpleasant things that one may imagine. However, it was nothing compared to how it could have been. The newly forged bond made him immune to most of your deadly spells and Runes, so at worst he would feel temporary pain and then it would cease.

In a way, his desire and respect for you only increased. A Fae always respected good examples of trickery.

Sun could not stop himself from wheezing, very much entertained with the situation.

“You really walked into that one, Moon.“

“Shut up.“

He would still make you pay for that little insult, nonetheless. The corridors had morphed into the same scenery over and over, the windows were suddenly sealed shut, the nearby doors leading to a dead end or into a void of eternal nothingness. You could no longer trust your senses, for mad whispers kept disrupting reality. Only a few more minutes, you hoped for only a few more minutes till the witching hour ends.

You were honestly an idiot for trusting your own luck.

Moon's voice echoed throughout the corridors, ominous and demonic. A bit spicy, as well.

“You should have saved that fire for the wedding night, wishing star.“

“Goodness gracious.“

It became rather obvious that Vanessa would not be getting that briefing paper anytime soon, nor would our good old William Afton be getting his early morning coffee next week, either. Or any week, for that matter. It was a tragedy beyond description, may he rest in pieces.

You had to stop to catch your breath, panting, perfectly aware of the fact that you were mostly screwed. Well, a part of your mind tried to add some rational remarks and told you that living with the Fae couldn't be that bad and at least you would hopefully be getting some really cute royal garments or something. When in doubt, at least material things never disappointed you.

Ghostly hands rose from the ground, grasping at your ankles, your calves, your thighs. You fell forwards unceremoniously and you would have experienced quite a hit to the ground had the hands not grasped you, shielding you from the hard floor.

“What a perfect way to spend my night, being manhandled seventy percent of the time.“

Wrestling them was useless, but at least there was more dignity in that than just doing nothing and thinking about the meaning of life till your captors arrived.

Prince Sun appeared first, somewhat sympathetic, but also visibly tired from all the shenanigans. He let you have your little moment of heroism, though.

“Take your time, darling one.“

“Oh, sod off.“

Prince Moon arrived soon after, eyes glowing a dangerous shade of crimson, the dagger still embedded in his chest. He pulled the blade out, his gaze following the path of the rivulets of blood, almost enchanted by the pattern they were making as they glided along the expertly made Runic symbols.

“Love the craftsmanship on this one. It would have been a poetic death. Stricken by a wishing star, tearing my heart asunder, red pearls the only gifts I have to offer.“

Sun went over to you, partially teasing, partially serious.

“Someone is a bit violent. Are you alright, darling one? Do you wish to talk about some unresolved issues?“

“You two are literally stealing me away.“

“It's not that bad. We shall be loving and caring consorts to you. After all, our bond is basically an engagement.“

“This is the shoddiest proposal ever. How is this even supposed to work, each of you gets their own day of the week?“

“We'll share equally.“

“Excuse me, I am not a meal.“

“Really? You do seem rather delicious.“

“This isn't fair. Do you have any idea how homesick humans can get in the realm of the Fae?“

“We have many spells designed to bedazzle the mind and encourage you to forget the mortal world. And everyone is nice in their own way once you get to know them.“

“You two had no other member of the Cunning Folk to bother and you just had to stumble upon me?“

The dark spell was lifted and you found yourself free. Well, not for long, since the twins were at your side once more. Sun kissed your hand like a true gentleman, his wings making the faintest flutter of joy.

“We searched for a heart of gold and dreams of hope.“

“And you decided to look in a law firm?“

“Bright light contrasts best against a shadowy background.“

“Can I see the terms and conditions of my service?“

“Oh? Good idea! You can read all of that on our way to the palace! It will be so much fun to explain it to you. Of course, the letters are inverted, so you will need a mirror just to read it.“

He conjured a seemingly reasonable rolled-up piece of paper, before letting it unfold. It reached the ground in a comical fashion and kept on going till the end of the corridor.

“Sun, that list is longer than the border of Ancient Rome.“

“Indeed! I had it shortened to make it easier for you.“

“Dear god.“

“I also must say that I wrote it myself. I do my fair share of corporate business and contracts with humans are my specialty, but I do prefer to engage in theater. I may have given a certain playwright a few tips on writing his special little Midsummer work.“

“Old Will? For real?“

“Wonderful chap to have a pint with at the pub. I am certain he would have had an aneurysm had he lived to see what his reputation had become nowadays. A cheerful knave being the main topic for school and homework? Scandalous. He was a most charming actor and a talented wizard of words. Had many a verbal battle with him, and I never managed to snag his soul. I fully respect him for that.“

“Good to know. Regardless, I still wish to talk to your brother about this whole affair. It is my right, considering the fact that I am not a normal human and I do have certain perks. I am certain that King Eclipse will have more respect for old customs than you two.“

Sun and Moon gave each other a look, before giggling at you, as if charmed by how silly your request was.

“King Eclipse? Darling one, do beware.“

“The knave stole the moonlight fair.“

“Neither fools nor traitors breathe for long in his lair.“

“Be our guest, challenge him, if you dare.“

You raised an eyebrow at their improvised little poetic endeavour, tilting your head, curious.

“Did you two just come up with that?“

“Well, we did think of incorporating a iambic pentameter somewhere in there, but we simply decided to free verse it.“

Needless to say that the whole charade continued even after they had conjured a portal to their world, taking you with them. You were playing a dangerous game, but realistically you had nothing to lose. Well, except your dignity and maybe your life, but nothing lasts forever anyway, so might as well.

Your case was one type of extreme. On the other end of the city, two members of the Fae species were in the process of “adopting“ a few bundles of joy. The bear Fae and the wolf Fae were aware that two children were very unhappy in their orphanage and oftentimes they would hear the little girl, Cassie, vocalize her wish to be taken away by magical creatures. The boy, Gregory, had nothing against any of that, as long as there was proper acommodation involved. He hated the hard old bed he had in the orphanage and the food was positively awful.

Of course, there had to be an equivalent exchange, so the two Fae had to bring some friends along. One of them was not too thrilled.

“Why are we doing this? I don't want to stay in the human world.“

“You only need to stay till the next full Moon, Bonnie, and then you will be free of the obligation. Monty will keep you company.“

“Monty is insane.“

“Don't be rude.“

“He pushed me off the stairs, Roxy.“

“Happens.“

Montgomery was far too busy exploring the wonders of a music player to really care where he was, honestly. A few broken orphanage windows and one angry half-blind nun later, the wolf Fae and the bear Fae had become proud new adoptive parents. Bonnie and Monty would have to serve as changeling replacements for a bit, but that is what happens when you lose fairy chess. You owe favours.

By the time Roxy and Freddy had returned home, Gregory had partially woken up, while Cassie was all snuggled in the soft pillows of her new bed. They boy looked around his new house, nonchalant and trying to read what was happening from the clues given.

“Have I been kidnapped?“

“Some may call it that.“

“By fairies? Like, a changeling type of situation?“

“Yes, but I assure you we are using all of the safety protocols that are necessary.“

“Well, I'll be damned.“

“We do wish to make the best effort and become your new family, Gregory. For you and Cassie.“

“Is that food over there? Cupcakes?“

“Oh, indeed, with buttercream and cherries.“

Gregory observed the treats for a good few moments, thought a bit, weighed all his options and of course made the best possible decision for himself in that type of situation. Fairy food was usually a forbidden thing, but he was already stolen anyway.

“I am a simple lad, I see free food and I cannot complain.“

AO3

58 notes · View notes

goldenmechanicalheart · 2 months

Text

Gonna make this simple and clear;

Fiction is fiction!!! And it stays that way!!!

This means that on this blog, you will be consumeing any and all things disturbing and distasteful, such as age gaps, incest, underage, etc, that are HEAVILY ROMANTICIZED AND STRICTLY PRESENTED IN FICTION!!! None of my works/posts are linked to anyone or anything in real life. Living things are living things, and we can't manipulate them. They have thoughts, feelings and choices, fiction does not. (Example: drawing a character on a blank sheet of paper is just a character on a blank sheet of paper. No name, no background and no purpose. A human being are a human being with a name, background, and purpose) IN FICTION, WE CAN MAKE THE CHOICES AND EVEN THE END RESULT.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Other things to know:

THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY BLOG!!! I WILL BLOCK MINORS OR AGELESS ACCOUNTS ON SIGHT!!!

Not bothered asking, tbvh.

NOTE: ANY DISTURBING CONTENT IN ANY IRL SITUATIONS, PEOPLES AND MEDIA WILL HAVE PROPER TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Quick faves!:

Games!

-Resident Evil, Hi-fi Rush, Animal Crossing, Phychonauts, FNAF, Apex Legends, Fortnite, World of Warships, Kingdom Hearts series, Sonic series, Legends of Zelda (Gameboy ver), GTA series, Saints Row series (rip), Yu-Gi-Oh (Physical/Duel Links), Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, The Arcana.

Honestly, there are too many to list here.

Anime/TV shows!

Adventure Time, Regular Show, Summer Camp Island, AOT, Tiger and Bunny, Naruto, DB/DBZ, BANANA FISH, One Peice, Beserker, Vinland Saga, Yu-Gi-Oh!, League of Legends: Arcane.

Movies!

Sleeing Beauty (1959), Snow White (1937), Prince and the Frog, Tangled, Anastasia (1997), Sing, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), Scream (1996), Halloween (1978), Friday the 13th (1980), My Bloody Valentine (2009).

There is too much to list here also, but those came to mind.

Main ships and fandoms in this blog!

FNAF!

Williz/Lizwill: William x Elizabeth Afton, Mikeliz: Michael x Elizabeth Afton, Cassevan: Cassidy x Evan Afton, Mrs Afton x Evan/Mike, Henmike: Henry Emily x Michael Afton, Henchar: Henry x Charlie Emily.

Apex Legends!

Miraith: Mirage x Wraith, Crypson: Crypto x Wattson, Fusehound: Fuse x Bloodhound, Revash: Revanant x Ash

Assassin's Creed Series!

Fryecest: Jacob x Evie Frye (Syndicate)

Fornite!

Midas x Jules, Midas x banging every other skin and wishing they were me tbh 😮‍💨

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

If you read this far, I literally can't say I didn't warn you 🤨 so block me and stfu.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Lovely Kirby blinkies by Anakin

#proship #proships #proshipper #proshipping #proshippers are welcome #comshippers are valid #profiction #profic #comshippers welcome #proshippers are valid #pro fiction #comship #comshipper #comshipping #comship safe #profic safe #proship safe #antis dni #18+ mdni

20 notes · View notes

nimmie-nugget · 3 months

Text

This post may be seen as offensive to some, if you prefer or like and usually do this kind of lore currently, please do not take this srsly as this is only for entertainment and chaos to erupt 😎

Remember back in the early days of FNAF when everyone used to say smth like “NO! He’s not truly evil….he’s just broken…and he’s being controlled by his brother Vincent who’s in disguise as Glitchtrap!! William and Glitchtrap and tots not the same person!!!” type of shit 💀

Like after the bite of 83, William used to blame Michael for Chris’s(C.C/Evan/Norman/B.V/*insert whatever name,* reminder I only said Chris since that’s what everyone used in the 2018’s 😀) EVEN WHEN WILLIAM LITERALLY BUILT FREDBEAR TO KILL- I say it was William’s fault 😤(Ik there’s diff opinions on the blaming part, pls don’t come after me 😫🙏🙏)

Also when ppl used to ship William and Henry 💀 BLOODY HELL- William ligit murdered Henry’s daughter 😶 ppl be like: “AHHH!! William murdered Henry’s daughter….This mean he’s….HES INLOVE WITH HENRY!!!” 🗿… (AGAIN their fictional, doesn’t matter as long as it ain’t pro-shipping, just my opinion)

Everyone making William obsessed with Toast and Coffee 💀

Upcoming 2018 babooooo: Mrs. Afton (or better known as Clara💀 AGAIN I DONT MEAN TO BE OFFENSIVE- Explodes) More Afton giggle shits will be coming!! Tho they’ll probs come in a few hours or a day since I’m not taking these drawing srsly 😋

15 notes · View notes

literatureismyentirepersonality · 1 year

Text

Plastic Theatre In Prose: Aşk-ı Memnu

For a while I’ve really enjoyed reading what I can only describe as ‘Plastic Theatre’, not simply in plays, but in prose.

Plastic Theatre is known as a technique used by 20th century dramatist Tennessee Williams, known for A Streetcar Named Desire, The Glass Menagerie and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof among other plays (these three that I have read/seen are excellent). It involves a symbolism that borders on the surreal and a heavy awareness of the spaces that characters operate in as representative of their inner states or relationships. If the curtains are blue, there’s a very good reason.

I haven’t, however, been able to find any criticism that makes the jump from Williams’ on-stage Plastic Theatre to its mirrors in prose. (If anyone knows of any, please direct me to it)

Margaret Atwood is the author who I saw it in first. She is an incredibly deliberate author, playing with language constantly, and so, of course, when she describes a space, she does not do so without good reason. The constant and intoxicating symbolism of The Handmaid’s Tale may be forgotten sometimes in favour of its high-concept, but one must note that the actual plot of the novel is very limited (just as our narrator is very limited). It is the prose, the linguistic entanglements and the imagery of flowers, of eggs, of corpses, that sustains engagement and creates such a powerful and meaningful story.

Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber (which I have some issues with, plot-wise) is linguistically and symbolically incredibly rich. Where I was tired by the constant returns to that (I don’t want to talk about it; if you know, you know) as apparently the only means of darkening a fairy tale, my interest was maintained by the cleverness of the prose and the richness of the text. As with Atwood, every detail has a secondary meaning or a hundred secondary meanings.

Halit Ziya Uşaklıgil’s Aşk-ı Memnu seems also to have an element of plastic theatre in its construction, gesturing not only to symbols of space, dress and action but also to genre. Plastic theatre in Aşk-ı Memnu is not so sustained as in the works of modern writers, but equally it is more sustained and intrusive onto naturalism than its contemporaries.

Firstly, Halit Ziya is luxuriously heavy-handed in the names he gives his characters; even in the text, he cannot help but inform us that ‘through a strange irony she was taller and more slender than her name’, a playful hint not at all distant from Williams’ Blanche dissecting her own name so falsely in A Streetcar Named Desire. Beşir, bringer of good news or prophet, seems almost to give the game away before he has begun.

Yet Halit Ziya does give the game away before he has begun. Forbidden Love and the immediate rendition of Firdevs’ history sets up Bihter’s fall from the very beginning and, like all adulterous women in such novels, her death feels inevitable (I am feeling very tempted to write another post about the agency dynamics of why these women must, narratively, at least, end in disaster). There are few narrative surprises in Aşk-ı Memnu. What is there in abundance, however, is linguistic and symbolic art.

I will only consider the first chapter in detail, but to do so will require much ranging across the text regardless.

From the first chapter, Halit Ziya puts perhaps excessive emphasis on the colours around the Melih Bey set, ‘Melih’ alluding to charm and beauty, the white of Bihter’s veil and the white of their boat against the mahogany of Adnan Bey’s— the innocence of Bihter and the stately rigidity of grief that her marriage to Adnan Bey will bring— and Firdevs’ wish to erase the whiteness of her own hair to prevent the returned innocence and what she perceives as the neutered sexuality of old age.

When ‘[Firdevs’] husband’s name was erased’, this is reflected in the narrative by the literal absence of him or his name. He is subsumed into Firdevs’ in the same way Nihal’s mother is into Adnan and part of Adnan and Bihter’s conflict is perhaps that neither can swallow the other into their world entirely until Bihter is dead.

The scenes between Firdevs and her husband are incredibly rich. The letter in the bouquet not only foreshadows Firdevs’ letter to Behlül, but also renders an image of Firdevs’ nature: a beautiful exterior which conceals an interior of unknown substance. Halit Ziya is a writer; he treats word and narrative as powerful (see the semantic field of literature, narrative and the physical object of the book when Behlül discusses his romantic feelings). No matter how grotesque Firdevs’ external pursuit of beauty becomes, she is notable for having the power of word and falling into the trap of its becoming revelation. She keeps her love letters in the yonic drawers and her husband savagely destroys in what can be read as an attempt to wrest back the masculinity that was lost in the erasure of his name, but when he is dead, Firdevs reasserts herself as masculine in power. She will hunt for a yonic ‘purse’, predatory, though unsuccessful.

The dynamic between public spaces and private spaces is also masterfully utilised. It is in the semi-public space of the river and the boats that Adnan Bey and Bihter’s relationship is born, but it is also there that Firdevs is first revealed to her husband. Forests also function in a similar way— a space where social convention is briefly confused, as in Chapter Seven’s picnic and Chapter Nineteen’s magical forest, oozing with the mutability of a Shakespearian or folkloric forest.

Outside, the narrative concerns itself with fashion, with known histories, with reputation and with mere flirtation, but when Nihat Bey brings the women inside, into their private sphere, the narrative immediately switches to domesticity and marriage. Where the externally focused Firdevs had managed to dominate the novel’s opening, now the internal world belongs to Bihter.

The more the narrator retreats, with Bihter, from the outside world, to the interior of the house, to her own small room, the more aware of her interior thoughts we become and the more tightly she seems to be bound by circumstance.

The early imagined ‘rainbow [...] deluges of green, blue, yellow and crimson, [...] sunshine composed of emeralds, rubies, diamonds and turquoises were being poured’ seems to signify a point of multiple paths, but also becomes the world of her relationship with Adnan. Like Stanley and Stella’s coloured lights in Streetcar, colour becomes dualistic in Chapter Eight, the luxury of jewels and silks becoming the oppressive greens, blues, yellows, and reds flowed over the shadows, creating and destroying each other. These colours of experience, pulling her from her initial ties with white, will once then again morph in to become an emblem not of Bihter and Adnan Bey’s relationship, but of her independence. Reconfigured, Chapter One’s rainbow is now representative of Bihter’s escape from Firdevs, just as Chapter Eight’s is her escape from Adnan into the arms of whatever love she can grasp, be it from herself, or later from Behlül.

Note also that the main item of jewellery Bihter will eventually receive is emerald green as Halit Ziya employs literary shorthand to emphasise Nihal’s envy.

The final confrontation of this chapter takes place on the şehnişin, a space neither inside nor outside, private nor public. Firdevs is most comfortable in the public arena, she wishes to draw Bihter outside, at least partially; it is in this space that Bihter assumes a ‘demeanour peculiar to children’, emphasising her own initially liminal state between childhood and womanhood. It is a ‘dark night’, yet through ‘half-closed eyes’, Bihter watches ‘a speck of light’. Halit Ziya refuses to allow the pair to exist certainly in any capacity.

Even in a single chapter, so many symbols and generic references are invoked. Later, Nihal will repeatedly signal the gothic and the folkloric without the narrative ever truly becoming either of these; Mlle Courton, in Chapter Three incessantly invokes the French sensibility tradition, yet this too, cannot overtake the narrative. Behlül persists in his romance. Yet, in death, Bihter reclaims the genre of the book for her own, enforces her own story. Nihal can try to evade it, try to pretend that she is the heroine who survived the wicked stepmother and her wicked prince, but Bihter’s stamp on the novel cannot be erased. She could not swallow Adnan Bey into the Melih Bey set, but she could swallow his narrative into her genre: the domestic drama wins out.

(I feel like I have to make a little addendum because this is a Tumblr post and not an academic essay; I write with excessive confidence as a stylistic choice. Every single point made here is up for debate.)

#Aşk-ı Memnu #plastic theatre #tennessee williams #margaret atwood #angela carter #halit ziya uşaklıgil #the handmaid's tale #the bloody chamber #a streetcar named desire #symbolism #lit crit

32 notes · View notes

hobbit-in-kuroshitsuji · 1 year

Text

Kuroshitcember 2022 Prompt Nr. 9

Prompt: Listen to Stolas Sings by Sam Haft. What do you think this could represent?

You can find all prompts here!

All of these will be uploaded/archived to this blog's Ao3 eventually

Summary: On Grelle's Death Day, she thinks everything is fine and goes to work (to see William). Turns out, everything is not fine after all, but William is there to help her... CW: There's some implied Grelliam if you squint? I mean, would William touch another person if he didn't love them? but that could also be family, so read it however you like <3 this has mentions of suicide, death, murder - please only read if you feel you can mentally <3

this is heavily inspired by my own HCs on reapers which you can read up on here. also, I wanted this to be a drabble....... it didn't turn into a drabble XD oh and - the usual "hey I haven't read this through yet, pls don't judge this rough first draft" warnings ahem.....

All the world’s a stage and I’m a player navigating the brutal, bloody battlefield that is love~

The world’s a stage, fake, discerning and bloody. There is no rest for those who seek to portray their souls outwardly; for those who wish to be themselves. There is no comfort. No safety.

So was it truly so strange for Grelle to pretend? For her to make sure she was herself, sand safe, by pretending the entire world was a stage for her to waltz on?

No one took her seriously, yet they also knew she was deadly and capable of chopping anyone to bits if they tried to burst her bubble. But it wasn’t a bubble. It was just… safety through acting.

All that Grelle had gone through had made her sweetness, her innocence, her “oh I’m sorry, sir�� attitude disappear. No one dared misgender her now. No one dared touch her now.

But that was also solitary and painful.

Did they believe she was a woman, or did they act along with her to save their own skins? Did they act to save her sanity? Did they think her gender was the act?

Probably… Grelle was convinced that no one understood her acting was to keep herself safe, so people would back the hell off.

She was convinced…

Until one day when William T. Spears showed that their long, long centuries working together meant he knew her and saw through her act.

Until one day when William T. Spears showed that the comfortable lie which Grelle had created of their romantic relationship actually was just that for even William.

“Sutcliff? What are you doing here, you are supposed to be at home.” William’s words came out as a scolding, which considering the subject was a rather odd thing to hear. William never scolded on for working.

But, that day which changed oh so many things about what Grelle though she knew, also happened to be her Death Day.

“I feel not a thing, my dearest,” Grelle offered with a shrug of her shoulder, coincidentally also shrugging her red coat off to reveal more of her shoulder to William.

The man, who’d shut off his emotions in a response to his trauma, caging his centuries old heart off from the rest of the world, ignored her flirting.

As usual.

“And that is healthy, because…?” William sassed, quirking an eyebrow.

Scoffing, Grelle threw a glare William’s way. She stood from her desk and placed hands on her hips. “Mind your words, mister, I am the epitome of mental health – just as anyone!” She pointed at poor Ronald, trying his best to stay out of it by (literally) burying his face into his paperwork. “Knox! Am I not sane?”

Ronald glanced between the two “adults” awkwardly before saying yes with his mouth whilst shaking ‘no’ with his head.

“See!”

“Grelle,” William spoke, voice a soothing calmness in what undoubtedly would become even more of a scene. He never used her name often. So, of course, it shut her up. “We do not work on our Death Days, we stay home and we let it play out. We disrupt the office otherwise-“

“Ugh,” was all Grelle had to say, rolling her eyes. It was always about work with him.

The office suddenly got a lot busier, as a batch of potential new recruits entered with wide eyes. They’d just learned of the reality there were other dimensions outside of heaven and hell. So those wide-eyed looks was the one way to identify new reapers.

“Don’t disrupt the office,” William said to Grelle before turning around to face the baby reapers.

Grelle positioned herself on the desk, watching and listening as William gave a long lecture on safety protocols to the new reapers. No one listened. People just wanted to learn about souls at that stage, and whether they would be allowed to die at some point.

So it was always amusing to watch William attempt to give these lectures.

Othello and Ronald made a quick bet on how long it would take for one of the new recruits to hurt their fingers on the printers no one was allowed to touch save for two who had not broken a printer yet in their entire life – William, and Eric.

And then Grelle joined in with a bet on who would make a comment on “why does the supervisor do all the printing for us if they’re our superiors?” because, quite frankly, it was stupid.

There were no budgets in the afterlife.

Then Grelle was forced to join in. Recruits asked her questions about being out in the field, and she answered them with flat, one word, answers which often were either ‘yes’ or ‘no’ (or ‘next’ when the question was too boring).

Then…

“Mister Sutcliff, sir? Once you reap a soul, do you get a glimpse of wherever they go? Or is it just another weird light like when we-“

“Ma’am.” William’s voice interrupted. William never interrupted new recruits.

Normally, Grelle brushed it off. It was her stage, she was the star, and anyone who misgendered her was simply not part of her play, ignored and never seen again in her world until they did better.

But that day, it was Grelle’s Death Day.

That day, maybe, her brain wasn’t as okay as she had thought it was when she woke up.

That day, the words went straight to her heart, which lit a fire into nerves that shouldn’t be active within a reaper… but which were prone to activating when on their Death Day… the nerves sent signals up to her brain, waking memories that should be in a cage…

Everything seemed to darken around her. To the outside, it just looked like she’d stopped breathing – like a robot who ran out of juice and couldn’t move another limb again. But to her, the world darkened, making her vision smaller until all she could see were her last moments, her last feelings, her reasons…

Until William appeared in front of her, like sparks in the dark, letting her focus on reality long enough to realise he had defended her without being provoked by her own acting… He believed her. He saw her.

“I told you to stay home, Sutcliff,” William scolded her, but despite the harshness in his voice, Grelle melted against him as he looped an arm around her waist and helped her off the desk to leave the office.

Reapers watched, empathetic and selfishly relieved their own Death Days were a while away still. Yet, despite the many gazes on her, all she knew was William guiding her home.

He opened her door with a key Grelle didn’t know William had, and let her inside. He stayed in the doorway himself, though, watching as she let her coat she so cherished fall off her and to the floor, shoes kicked off before she waddled inside to find a couch to disappear into.

And so, William stepped inside to clean up after her, caring for the coat he knew she’d care for again tomorrow, and putting the shoes in the shelf with the others. He closed the door behind him, and entered the living room to watch her sit on the couch, eyes empty, flashing between green and yellow as synapses re-awoke within her brain –

“Grelle.”

He’d believed her. He saw through her eyes, her act, and believed her.

She didn’t want him to go… “Will… Did I really kill those-“

“Don’t think too much on it,” William quickly interjected. “You had your reasons. You are making amends for it now.”

William never interrupted, unless it was to protect Grelle, either from others, or herself.

Clearing his throat, William sat down next to Grelle. “I have a long report to read through today. Let me read it out loud.” Let me distract you.

Shaking from the memories of her last breaths, Grelle nodded her head and curled up into a ball at the other side of the couch…

Things were easier with someone around to help keep Grelle’s mind away from the open jailcell of her past.

William made a new rule from that day on.

No one was to be alone on their Death Day.

And William and Grelle? They were always the ones helping each other.

__ taglist: @eemoo1o-animoo

16 notes · View notes

chasingfictions · 2 years

Text

ok that post of spike to the tune of p!nk's "get the party started" IS a shitpost make no mistake but im also thinking about litearlly how he does get the party started. i think what's insane about it is that in "school hard" literally every time he enters a scene it's treated like he is entering the show for the first time, like it's that level of fanfare every time. EVERY TIME he shows up it's this Event, it's like, oh shit!! this guy's HERE NOW.

1. crashing into the sunnydale sign "home sweet home" cigarette smoke blow etc

2. barging into the vamp factory, "if everybody who said they were at the crucifiction was actually there, it would have been like woodstock" / dru cheek blood lick / spikedru head swivel "me and dru, we're moving in"

3. appearing from out of the shadows at the bronze. *btvs shooting script voice* is it angel? it's not angel. it's spike.

4. appearing from out of the shadows in the alley outside the bronze, clapping, "you'll find out on saturday" "what happens on saturday?" "i kill you"

5. honestly when he's not even there?? in the library when giles is doing the spikesposition that will be the audio on every spike-centric previously-on, "he's known as william the bloody. earned his nickname by torturing his victims with railroad spikes .... he's fought two slayers in the last century, and he's killed them both" + angel being incredibly dramatic about him

6. barging into the high school through the broken glass "what can I say? I couldn't wait" :)

and i think what's also significant is that each of these introductions is for a different person's benefit??? like

1. the sunnydale sign crash is for the viewer's initial benefit like oh ok this is gonna be a Guy

2. and then in the factory it's to set up that a) he's going to be taking over as a new style of antagonist from the culty vampires, b) he's In Love With Drusilla and that's also literally going to set off just an entire new trajectory for what it meants to be a vampire in this verse, and c) that he's a narrative foil to buffy, with her also being this upstart disrupting the vibes of her ancient lineage and with Thee Iconic School Hard Red Cheek Stripes

3. is there to set up like not only is this A Guy but this is A Guy with narrative and emotional stakes in this world. like,, literally "it's not angel. it's spike" like i cant even talk about how INSANE that is. he JUST got here and already it's like oh ok lustful glances in the bronze he is embroiled in our sexy vampire trajectory interesting

4. HERE, after THREE introductions is finally the characters meeting him, like finally the people the show's pov is from are Perceiving him but we the viewer already have all this feeling attached to him, so when he shows up he has this narrative weight. like if the first time we saw spike was him clapping out of the shadows at buffy he would just be some guy?? but that first meeting gets to be pregnant with meeting bc of what we already know... spuffy said dramatic irony spuffy said tension between the fabula and syuzhet...

5. and NOW we get History. we get oh this guy is also embroiled in the LORE. he is narratively tied to slayers. he goes by many names. he is inducing weird psychosexual vampire tension in our resident broody vampire,, like something is Up. he's not just disrupting the Now he is literally embroiled in History. spuffy said all of time is always happening at once and the future changes the meaning of the past...

6. and THEN we get him bursting onto the scene. like this is the first time him and buffy are really interacting in a meaningful way where they are both equally active in their interplay, this is like, okay we have set up that this guy is going to Change Everything, and the Everything Begins Now, now we're in this dynamic moment of fighting and chasing and pursuing and Do We Really Need Weapons for This? ..... No Spike, It's Gonna Hurt A Lot .... now we've seen him introduced to all the ways he is altering the existing world we've set up, all the ways he's connected to and tinging the past, and now it's like, oh he's changing the present now. he's changing the future. he's established as a narrative symbol and the moment all that symbolism is fully set up he suddenly becomes a Narrative Agent, an Actor, A Character, a Being ... the way he is a signifier carrying around signifieds and then now it's time for those signifieds to live and interact with buffy's signifieds .... and interact they DO

#HIIII #btvs rewatch #COUNTING THIS for the rewatch tag bc spiritually i Did rewatch this episode today by proxy by being in there looking for screenshots #btvs meta

83 notes · View notes

goobiegoobert · 2 years

Note

you already knowwwww peepaw william nsfw hcs GO!

[ insert shitty Beetlejuice title pun ] ____________________ A/n: I'm going to either kiss or kill you Kandi, and I have to say you're on some thin fucking ice rn /j 18+ post, even though this is half satire it still contains mature content so minors DNI with this! Warnings: you know the gist by now yadda yadda, very homo shit happening here tbh, mpreg, minor gore, creepy old guy stuff, my usual smut tags yknow how it is ____________________

Peepaw William <3

➤ Okay to get this out of the way I don't think he has a dick anymore. Like cock and balls have been blasted to ash tbh sorry </3 ➤ or like if something is there it's so fucking broken and has trouble standing up [peepaw got Ed can't believe this] ➤ Isn't exactly the most into sex itself and really could just toss you around like a ragdoll ➤ He doesn't practice safe sex so fuck him. ➤ Okay. Hear me out. Okay? ➤ For some god-awful reason, he knows how to use those damn fingers don't ask me why ➤ Since Mpreg is canon to the fnaf franchise I would like to raise the fact that out of everything just likes to see you dumb and plush something he can mold into a useful vessel ➤ Also on the topic of Mpreg uhhhh. Yeah, maybe a breeding kink perhaps.. ➤ Very big sir user I mean kings got priorities ig ➤ I'm so sorry but like. is absolutely into you being in pain and crying out to stop ➤ Like tears down ur face? Lets fucking go ➤ Guys, please get help, likely manipulated you so hard, and ur just denying it and this hurts so bad bc of it ➤ Likely calls you pathetic, plaything, and deary ➤ Hasn't remembered your name and refuses to ask ➤ Or literally, just can't be bothered to actually know tbh ➤ OKAY HOLD ON NOW BEFORE WE GO I HAVE ANOTHER THING!!! ➤ Electricity, anything to deal with him shocking you or zapping you and leaving you drooling is the one thing he always does ➤ Like those old fucking broken wires? Can't tell me it doesn't happen ➤ Likely chokes you until you pass out if he's caught up with something ➤ Sometimes shit gets bloody due to the sharp unprotected edges of his suit that dig into your skin either you like it or don't ➤ His aftercare is shit like possibly has Vanny take care of you ➤ Actually, now that I think abt it, you're probably with Vanny and she's letting Afton play with you due to their mind not being fully there ➤ Dw just give him a Ranch flavored Sunflower seed and watch him crumble like fucking building

#⏰ . kadssp #⏰ . kandi #⏰ . kady #⏰ . kadi #📼 . spooky sheets #peepaw willy #fnaf security breach #cant believe i wrote this smh #this took sm out of me tbh LMAO #like years have been decreased #but it's okay I did it for the monster fuckers #📼 . boo thirsts #kinda want sunflower seeds now

75 notes · View notes

weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

bar maid (b.w.)

prompt: a long night at the leaky cauldron and the late shift can only mean one thing: a boring night. but when a new face pops into the bar, the mood shifts drastically.

pairing: bill weasley x fem! reader

warnings: drinking, mentions of the war, language (literally once), sexual references

word count: 4.5k

taglist: @harrysweasleys @gcdric @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @another-lonely-heart-blog @starlightweasley @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @vogueweasley

“Another round of ale, Albert?” you ask with a smile as you wipe down a section of the bar from its previous attendants. The damp dish towel wipes across the mahogany bar, leaving streaks that shine underneath the bar lighting, the faint smell of chemical lemon lingering in the air mixes with the overwhelming scent of lager and spirits.

Albert flashes you a toothy grin and gives you a shrug. “Eh, why not. It’s a Friday, isn’t it?” Albert laughs before sliding you his brass mug down the length of the bar as you stealthily catch it in your hand. You fill the mug with amber ale, teeming with white foam, smelling of wheat. “You’re too good to me, (Y/N),” Albert tells you with a grin before taking a sip of his usual drink of choice.

You were a bar maid at the Leaky Cauldron and Albert was one of your regulars. Now, you didn’t think that you would be a bar maid after graduating from Hogwarts and trying to become a professor, but the world had a funny way about it, didn’t it? Being a bar maid meant you got good tips and had the luxury of creating your own schedule, but it also meant when you worked, it was long hours of standing on your feet and serving cheap ale and lager to annoyed businessmen and exhausted workers from the hours of five o’clock to two o’clock in the morning. Work was grueling, but you tried to make as much fun of it as you could.

“It’s the least I can do, Al,” you sigh, flopping the dish towel over your shoulder as you lean over the bar. “Any juicy gossip for me today? I’ve been bored out of my skull since I clocked in and I still got another five hours ahead of me. I need some entertainment,” you groan, cracking your knuckles against the wood of the bar. The thought of another five hours dealing with more alcohol, more grumpy patrons, and another tired night made your head ache.

Al takes a long sip from his mug, wiping the foam from his upper lip before speaking, “Not much gossip, I’m afraid.” You throw your head back and groan, taking an annoyed sip from your water. “Nothing interesting has happened, my dear,” he huffs in just as much annoyance as you. “We’re living in dark times, all news is usually disappointing, scary, or both. I’m looking for something hopeful just as much as you are,” Al confesses.

You tighten your ponytail and push your baby hairs away from your face, hands flopping on your shoulders as you slump over. Albert was right. The thought of a looming wizarding war over everyone’s heads was enough to keep everyone living in fear of when it would all come to a head and pop. At least working at the pub took your mind off of things, even if it was just for a few hours of the day.

“However,” Albert’s tone changes as you dart your eyes to him, curious. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the name Fleur Delacour? I heard through the grapevine that she has recently started working at Gringott’s. Desk job, but people were confused as to why should would come all the way to London for a silly desk job,” Albert explains before sipping from his ale again.

Your eyebrows furrow as the name does ring a bell. “The name sounds familiar. I certainly didn’t go to school with her or else I would know who she was. But the name is oddly recognizable...I’ll ask my younger sister when I speak to her next. She’s at Hogwarts now. I’m sure she’d know,” you tell Albert. “Anyone else take up a job? Familiar names or faces?”

Al searches his memory for anything else. He presses his tongue to his cheek. “Yeah, there was someone else. William...I don’t remember the surname for life of me, but it was William something...” he trails off.

You think for a moment, trying to scan your brain for a William that you might know. But you drew blank. It had been so long since you saw anyone from your graduating class. You had spent most of your time in the pub or studying or applying for new professor jobs. But no one was looking to hire an under-experienced professor in these times, no matter how good your marks were at Hogwarts, regardless that you were top of your class in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. The thought makes you infuriated because you knew you could teach this new generation of wizards better than anyone else.

Shaking your head, “Well, whatever, if he was important, you would know his name.” Albert shrugs. “I need to go bring in some kegs from the back, I’ll be back in a second,” you tell him before go around the bar, walking to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, hearing snippets of conversations here and there, most people talking about the news or their families. It was sad; just two years ago people would be roaring with laughter, telling stories and jokes, recounting happy times. Now, everyone was so focused on how the world as you knew it may be crumbling around you.

The cool fall air wraps around you as you push the door to bring the kegs from outside in as you pull your jumper over your hands to make some make-shift mittens. “Bloody hell,” you whisper to yourself as you see three kegs lined up outside for you to bring in. “Seriously, Tom?” you groan as you grab one keg and start dragging it. “I don’t get paid enough for this, I swear,” you grumble.

“Need a hand?” a voice interrupts you as you drag the steel keg across the cobblestone.

You look up and your eyes meet a pair that you haven’t seen in years. An instant smile rises on your lips as the all too familiar red hair is swept in the wind. “You’re kidding,” you laugh as you stand up straight, brushing off your jumper as he smiles widely at you with a chuckle. “Bill Weasley as I live and breathe?” you laugh as you run towards him, Bill engulfing you in a large hug. Your arms wrap around him tightly as he picks you up, your feet leaving the ground as you giggly madly as Bill sways you back and forth.

It had been years since you had seen Bill Weasley. The two of you had attended Hogwarts together in the same year and became fast friends. You had always admired how Bill was so smart and confident in himself (borderline arrogant, but in the sexiest best way). Bill was a popular one at Hogwarts, but through it all, he always managed to make time for you since you liked staying out of the lime light. Bill was well-loved and revered at Hogwarts, so it was obvious that he became a prefect during your time. And that’s when you two started to drift apart. He became busy doing his things and you became busy with your own studies. After graduation, the two of you went your separate ways, but you always wondered where he had gone.

Bill sets you down on your feet, his hands still on your hips as he smiled brightly down at you. He looked so mature now, longer red hair tied back in a ponytail, but he was still tall, thin, and undeniably handsome. The hunter green jacket he sported clung onto his tall figure, underneath a button down that was unbuttoned just enough so you could see the chest hairs that poked out from the loose material. Hanging from his ear lobe was a fang earring that wasn’t there before. Bill had changed, but in a way that caught your eye in a way that has never happened before. You gulped.

“Godric, (Y/N), you haven’t changed one bit,” Bill laughs as he takes a good look at you as you mentally curse that you had been wearing something different than your old blue jumper and leggings with stained boots from the bar. “How long has it been? Seven years?” he speaks as you nod. “Bloody hell, it feels like yesterday we were at Hogwarts,” he recounts the memories fondly as your heart warms to the same memories.

You smile brightly, “Time flies, Weasley.” He chuckles. “We can talk more about it if you help me bring in these kegs and I’ll treat you to an ale on the house. Or are you more of a lager man?” you ask as you walk back over to the steel kegs that wait to be dragged into the pub.

Bill chuckles as you grab one keg, starting to drag it into the pub. Without any hesitation or effort, Bill picks up the remaining two kegs in each of his hands, muscles flexing underneath his jacket as he shakes his head. You gulp and avert your eyes, trying not to focus on the way he so effortlessly carried the heavy steel kegs as you pushed yours in. “More of a whiskey kind of guy if you got any of that,” Bill tells you as you push the kegs towards the back of the bar, Bill places his two next to yours. “I didn’t know you were working at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Walking back to the bar with Bill by your side you speak, “Yeah. Been working here for a while now since there seems to be a hold on hiring newer, younger professors,” you roll your eyes as Bill laughs. Bill remembered how badly you wanted to be a professor and teach the younger generations of wizards and witches magic. It was your dream, but now it was on pause. “What about you? Why are you back in London? Last I heard of you, you were in Egypt!” you nudge his arm with your elbow.

He gives you a smile, happy that you had been keeping your tabs on him. “I was in Egypt for a long while. Loved it, really. But I came home to help my family out with the Order and such. I’m working at Gringott’s now at a desk job. Very exciting, I know,” he rolls his eyes as you giggle, making your way behind the bar.

A William working at Gringott’s. I should have known, you think to yourself. “Hey Albert,” you call over the man who sits just a mere stool away from Bill. “That new William who's working at Gringott’s now? It’s not just any bloke, he’s a Weasley,” you smile at Albert who looks over to Bill with a look of realization. “Bill, this is Albert, one of my regulars. Al, this is Bill Weasley, we went to Hogwarts together.”

Bill gives Albert a firm shake shake and warm smile. “Nice to meet you, sir,” Bill beams. “You’ve been in good company with this one, I’m sure,” Bill winks as Albert chuckles lowly.

“That I have been. She’s great company and serves an even better mug of ale,” Albert speaks as you smile sweetly at him, Bill laughing. “I would love to stay and chat longer, but I gotta get home to the family,” Albert tells you and Bill, putting on his coat before digging into his pockets and places and handful of coins on the table to pay for his drinks and tip you generously as he usually did. “I’ll see you on Monday, my dear,” Albert calls as he walks towards the door, you giving him a salute goodbye.

Bill speaks, “He seems like a good guy.” You nod as you take out a glass and start to pour him a generous glass of Fire Whiskey before placing it front of him. “How did you know I take it neat? What if I wanted it on the rocks?”

You give him a knowing look. “I know you, Bill. Last time I checked, you were drinking Fire Whiskey straight from the bottle at your graduation party,” you recall with a light chuckle as Bill groans at the memory. “You were off your rocker that night, I’m tellin’ you,” you start to laugh harder, remembering how Bill stood up on the dining room table of the Burrow, singing along to music that he blasted as everyone laughed and sang along with him. Graduation was such a happy time in your young adult life, you wished you could go back and relive it.

He rubs his face with one hand and speaks, “We were a mess that night, weren’t we?”

“We? Don’t drag me into this, Weasley! I was perfectly happy having one drink, but it was you who made me drink bloody Daisyroot Draught! The smell now makes me sick,” you contort your face with disgust as Bill laughs. “I will admit though, I’ve missed you quite a bit,” you confess, playing with the edges of the dish rag in your hands as you look up at Bill.

Slowly, a smile finds its way onto Bill’s lips as your heart flutters gently as his eyes look into yours. He still had the same eyes that you adored so fondly as a child and teen. In his eyes contained all the memories of Hogwarts and late nights and sleepover at the Burrow. His eyes had laughter and joy in them that you so missed during times like this. You missed Bill Weasley. For more than one reason.

“I’ve missed you more than quite a bit,” Bill reveals as you allow heat to rise to your cheeks. “I missed having my partner in crime around. Sneaking into the kitchens and then getting caught by McGonagall,” he recalls.

You laugh, “Stop, and then she asked if she could join us!” The two of you are in hysterics at the memory of eating leftovers and sweets in the kitchens with Minerva McGonagall as third year students, chatting about school and life after Hogwarts. McGonagall had always taken a liking to the two of you. She always said that you two were peas in a pod.

Bill smiles and takes a sip from his whiskey before speaking, “How long are you working tonight? I’d be happy to stay with you until you clock out.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m the closer and we don’t close the bar down until two in the morning.”

With a cheeky smirk, Bill huffs, “Well, we’ve got a lot to catch up on and we got...” he looks at the clock on the wall, “four and a half hours to kill. So, start talking, (Y/N). We’ve got all night,” he speaks, dropping his left eye in a wink as you smile with a blush.

-----------

For the next four hours, you and Bill caught up on everything. And by everything, you mean everything. His life after Hogwarts sounded much more interesting than what you had been doing to keep busy. Bill had been spending his time as a Curse-Breaker for Gringott’s, going on missions throughout Egypt, coming home to London here and there. You smiled as he recounted his stories with such passion and love in his eyes. It was evident that Bill loved what he was doing and he was sad that he couldn’t continue doing his job, now being stationed back in London at a boring desk job. Quite the downgrade from fighting and defeating mummies to working an office job.

Soon, people were filing out of the bar as closing time approached until it was just you and Bill in the pub. You had moved from standing behind the bar to sitting on a stool next to Bill, leaning on the bar as you listened to his deep baritone voice speak to you.

Bill placed a hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze. “(Y/N)? Tell me something,” he speaks.

“Anything, Weasley,” you smile at him, sleepily.

Bill chuckles, “Why are you working as a bar maid when you could be going out and doing what you love? Teaching. You’ve always wanted to teach students magic and it doesn’t seem fair that you are parked behind a bar pouring ale and lager to lazy blokes.” You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I’m serious. What’s stopping you?”

You sigh and recount everything that has held you back from doing what you want. First off, no wizarding school in the United Kingdom was hiring any professor right now due to the climate of the wizarding world. The only other option was moving to America and maybe teaching there at Ilvermorny? Maybe Beauxbatons in France? But it wasn’t a guarantee that you could find a job with such little teaching experience under your belt. “Besides the hiring freeze? I have no experience teaching, Bill. Plus, I want to make money for myself right now so I can save it up and move into my own place rather than living in my small flat with a bunch of my mates. The only other jobs are abroad and I do not have that much money to make a move like that. Besides, my whole family is here. My friends. And you’ve just come back now and leaving just seems illogical,” you sigh, knowing that your dream would have to wait.

He shakes his head, “Excuses, excuses.” You shake your head and take a sip from the whiskey that you had poured yourself, the amber liquid warming up your chest and stomach. It tasted like graduation. “If I can teach a year at Hogwarts, then you certainly can. Besides, you were just as good, if not better, than me in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m sure they could use your help more than ever right now.”

Looking up at Bill, you see how tender and soft his gaze is on you. He really meant every word he spoke to you with genuine honesty. Looking at Bill now was like looking at someone who you had known forever. He really hadn’t changed one bit. He was witty and kind and smart and sweet. Your Bill. But at the same time, he was different. He had become so mature and ruthless and brave. It was a new Bill, a Bill you could get used to.

You look down and see that his hand was still placed on your knee. Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat and Bill retracts his hand, digging it into the pocket of his jacket again as you take a sip of your whiskey. “Well,” you start, “I know I would be a better professor than you...I’m better at a lot of things than you,” you tease him as he rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Do I smell a challenge?” Bill laughs as you shrug. “Ah, ah, don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he leans back in his chair, tongue pressed to his cheek as you gulp, the nickname making your palms sweat. “Go on,” he speaks, daring you to challenge him. “You chose.”

Trying to ignore the rapid increase in your heart rate, you swallow hard. “Fine,” you smile before reaching over to the other side of a bar, grabbing a jar filled with a red liquid and multiple bright red cherries. Twisting the cap open, you pluck out two maraschino cherries, one for you and one for Bill. “I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue faster than you can,” you smirk, flirtatiously biting the cherry of its stem as Bill’s eyes widen and he gulps, shifting in his seat.

He clears his throat, “Yeah? How much you wanna bet?”

You think for a moment, trying to find a wager that would make this worth your while. “If I win, you pick up the tab from tonight,” you smile.

“I thought this was all on the house?” he scoffs with a smirk.

“Not if you lose,” you sing song, making him roll his eyes. “And Albert told me about a new worker at Gringott’s. Fleur Delacour? Yeah, you’ve gotta ask her out on a date,” you smirk.

Bill’s eyes widen. “Fleur?!” he exclaims with a laugh. “She’s my co-worker! Plus, we’re just friends. Nothing’s there,” he reasons as you shake your head.

You laugh, “Well those are my terms if I win. Gotta get you out on the dating field, Weasley.” You tease him as he smirks, looking down at the whiskey glass in his hands. “And if you win?”

He thinks for a moment, swirling the whiskey around and around in his glass, pondering what his terms would be. Bill bites the cherry off the stem as you watch his lips move carefully, like you were in a trance of some kind. You quickly shake it off, trying to keep yourself from getting distracted by him. “If I win,” Bill huffs, “then first of all, the drinks are on the house. Second, you’ll have to stop by the Burrow because once Mum hears that you’re in London, she’ll have a cow,” he laughs as you giggle. Molly Weasley, what an angel. “And third of all,” he speaks, leaning forward on his elbows so he’s closer to your face as you inhale sharply, “I’ll ask whoever the fuck I want on a date.”

Your heart stops for a moment as your whole body tingles as the words all from his lips. You can’t take your eyes off of his you are frozen. Bill smirks at your reaction before slowly leaning back in his chair, biting down softly on his lower lip as you gulp. “O-Okay then,” you manage to make out, trying to reorient yourself as Bill chuckles. “Count of three?” you speak before placing the cherry stem in your mouth as Bill does his. “One...two...three.”

With that, the two of you start twisting your tongue around the cherry stem, trying to tie it before the other could. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and your stomach is doing flips as your mind is screaming what the hell is going on. The entire time Bill doesn’t take his eyes off of you, staring into yours. The act felt so inherently sexual that you could feel your palms sweat and a second heartbeat between your thighs grow. This was a terribly good idea.

You can feel the cherry stem in your mouth finally slip into a knot as your eyes widen in victory, hand flying up to your mouth so you can show Bill the work you have done. As you hand reaches your lips, Bill’s fingers slyly pull his cherry stem out of his mouth just mere milliseconds before you. “I win,” he speaks.

“You cheated!” you instantly accuse him, pointing your finger at him.

Bill chuckles, “How did I cheat? I won fair and square and you know it, you sore loser.”

You shake your head, “I clearly won, you saw me! You had to have cheated, just so you could get free whiskey out of it!” Bill just shakes his head and grabs your chair, pulling you closer to him as you fail to notice as you keep rambling nervously. “Admit it, Bill, you just don’t like to admit that you’re not Hogwarts’ golden child anymore. You’ve out grown that title. Step aside for the new winner which is me, of course. You know I won, come on, Bill. I def-”

“(Y/N)?” he asks softly.

You realize that you are mere inches away from Bill now, his hands resting on either side of your stool. You inhale slowly and gulp, trying to calm yourself down to prepare for the inevitable. “Yes, Bill?” you respond just as softly.

“Shut up,” he whispers with a smile.

“Okay.”

Without further hesitation, Bill leans forward and connects your lips together as you inhale deeply, kissing him back and wrapping your arms around his neck instantly. Bill’s hands slide around your sides before hoisting you onto the bar, him standing between your legs as he kisses you deeper. You wrap your legs around his torso, drawing him closer to you, needing to feel his body pressed against yours. His lips move against yours with deep desire that he had been saving for so long and finally, you both were getting what you wanted for so long. His mouth tasted of the whiskey as you took more and more of it, drunk off of his kiss.

His hands held onto you tightly, not daring to let you go as you lightly moaned into his lips, making him smirk. Bill’s tongue was cool against yours as he massaged yours with his, snogging you right in the middle of the bar. Your mouths moved together, lusting after the other’s touch. You hands ran down his chest and his abs as he groaned gently into your mouth, making your stomach flutter as you smirked softly. Bill’s hand cupped your cheek before making its way to the back of your neck, pressing your lips harder against his.

You wanted to take him in this pub just like this, but Bill pulls away before you can push off his jacket. The two of you are breathless from kissing, chest heaving up and down, a smile on both of your faces as you blush a wild crimson. “You win,” you surrender to Bill who chuckles.

“I always win, sweetheart,” he winks before kissing you again, this time short as you whine when he pulls away. “And since I won, that means that this whiskey,” he points to his glass, “is on the house, you’ll be joining the Weasley’s for Sunday dinner, and on Monday night, you’ll be taking the night off so I can take you out on a proper date rather than just snogging on the bar of the pub,” he speaks as you laugh.

You run your fingers through his hair, “You mean you do like snogging me on the bar?” you tease him.

Bill furrows his brows, “Hey, hey, slow your roll. Don’t put words in my mouth now.” You laugh, placing your hands on his shoulders. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than snog you in every location of his pub,” he winks as you roll your eyes. “But I reckon a girl like you should be taken out on a proper date by a bloke like me, eh?”

Pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, you speak against them, “It’d be my honor.”

“Wicked,” he smirked, giving your sides a squeeze before hoisting you down from the bar. “How about you lock this place up and I’ll walk you back to your flat. Can’t have precious cargo like you roaming the streets alone,” he speaks with a gentle tap on your bum as you roll your eyes.

You shove his shoulder teasingly, “Hey, just because you came back from Egypt, Mr. Big Shot, doesn’t mean you make my decisions for me.” Bill chuckles as you smile, “But yeah, I’ll let you walk me home, Weasley.”

#bill weasley #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x reader imagine #bill weasley x fem! reader #bill weasley x feminine! reader #bill weasley x you #bill weasley x y/n #bill weasley fic #bill weasley fanfiction #bill weasley x mc #bill x reader #bill x y/n #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine #bill weasley smut

497 notes · View notes

inaccurate-linguini · 4 years

Text

You guys really liked that post about my sister's opinion on different cp characters, but I decided to step it up

I asked her to name cp characters that I've never showed her before (as well as her opinion obviously)

Me:

My sister:

Bloody Painter:

"He looks fancy, and done"

"I mean, he's an artist, if that counts"

"Yeah, sounds about right"

"So, what's his name?"

"William. Or Christopher"

Nina the killer:

"She looks like that guy that failed to kill everyone, Jeff, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, Jeff the killer, but what do you mean 'failed'?"

"Well, he tried to kill his brother, but he was alive, and then he tried to kill that other girl, but she was also alive. Idk, for someone who's name is Jeff the killer, he doesn't seem to be doing a very good job" (wtf😂)

"Ok then, but you were kind of right. She did this to herself bc she's in love with him"

"Why?"

"Idk, she just is"

"She has no taste. I'm gonna say she's a Kayla, or Jocelyn. Best I can give her is Jennifer"

"Lmao ok"

Clockwork:

"She looks badass, I like her"

"She really is. So what's her name?"

"Samantha. But she goes by Sam"

Nathan the Nobody:

"Hey, he has that thing that you're studying about" (she means Heterochromia, I was studying about mutations)

"Yeah. You like him?"

"He looks like he hasn't slept, like, ever"

"That's actually pretty accurate"

"Hmmm, he looks cute though. I'm gonna say...Andrew"

Hobo Heart:

"He looks so sad, oh my god..."

"He's always sad"

"That's terrible. I wanna hug him. He deserves it. He deserves a hug"

*nodding*"So?"

"Alexander"

Zalgo:

"What is this?"

*laughing*"A character, that you have to name"

*stares at me, then at picture* "... I know it's probably something weird, but I want him to be Jimmy so bad"

*both of us start to laugh*

Lost Silver:

"No, why do they all look so sad? What happened to them?"

"....actually, don't answer that"

"I didn't say anything"

"You were going to. Fine....ehm....he's Thomas, but the others call him Tommy"

Glitchy Red:

"Is he Tommy's brother?"

"....no....?"

"You don't know?"

"I mean, the fandom, kinda, considers them to be brothers....i think?"

*stares at me*

"Idk ok?! They're not my favorites, I'm sorry"

"Fine. Ok, but you can't tell me this ain't a Tyler"

"Jesus Christ...."

Sally:

"Aw! I want her to be my friend. She's too cute"

"Literally everyone loves her"

"As they should. I'm gonna say....Emma"

#Creepypasta #Bloody Painter #Nina the killer #Clockwork #Nathan the Nobody #Hobo Heart #Zalgo #Lost Silver #Glitchy Red #Sally #Creepypasta ft. My Sister #Not a quote

357 notes · View notes

g0ttal0ve101 · 3 years

Text

Lucian, my AoD OC 🤍

🌸~NAME~🌸

"My name? Haha, you should really tell me yours first!"

Full Name: Lucian Williams

Meaning: "Light"

Nicknames: Lucy/Lu Lu (Eddie), Bunny boy (Cathy), Little cannibal-shit (Zack)

Name Language: Latin

🌸~PHYSICAL~🌸

"Ginger hair is super pretty, don't you know? White hair makes me look like an old guy."

Skin: Pale

Eyes: Blue-green (Turquoise)

Hair: White

Gender: Male

Height: 150 cm

Weight: 76 lbs

Age: 12 (in-game)

Sexuality: Bisexual

🌸~ATTIRE~🌸

"I made these hairclips myself! I'm glad you think they're cute..."

Clothes:

—In game—

Lucian wears white overalls with a white and purple striped undershirt, similar to Eddie. Although, Lucian's ways of killing people makes it more bloody, so there are many blood stains on his overalls.

—Normal—

Lucian thinks B4 is EXTREMELY cold, since he's a very warm person. He usually swears an oversized lavender sweater with a big bunny on the front of it with jeans. (Eddie doesn't like to share, but he often lets Lucian wear his red scarf to keep him warm.)

—Pajamas—

Lucian wears a VERY fluffy, (x100000) white nightgown with a bunny hood. (It even has the white bunny tail, like it's THAT CUTE) He's a literal cookie I can't with this cuteness 💀

Shoes: Black boots

Accessories: Lucian is always seen with a flower or bunny pin in his hair. The bunny pin is brown, just like his old rabbit, Cinnamon. His flower pins change to roses and marigolds.

🌸~STARS~🌸

"The moon is a beautiful and blue! It almost looks sad..."

Zodiac: Cancer

Birthday: June 30th

Color: Silver

Animal: Crab

Element: Water

Planet: Moon

Birthstone: Pearl and/or moonstone

🌸~MENTAL~🌸

"Me? I guess I'm a pretty happy kid! I just wanna see bunnies, is all!"

Personality: Lucian is very happy-go-lucky, oblivious, and bubbly.

Worst Memory: Being beaten by his mother's boyfriend(s).

Best Memory: Meeting Eddie.

🌸~ACQUAINTANCES~🌸

"Eddie is my best friend! I like him a whole bunch! He's the one who cares for me..."

Friends: Eddie

Family: Father (deceased), mother (deceased), younger sister (deceased)

Enemies: Zack and Rachel

Neutral: Cathy, Danny, and Gray

🌸~TRIVIA~🌸

"More to know about me, me, me!"

Lucian loves children and animals.

Lucian has a weird sense of personal space. He almost always gets too close to people when he talks without noticing, especially when speaking about flowers. causing people to get the wrong idea.

Lucian is a cuddle bug. He loves hugging people and playing with people's hair.

Lucian uses an axe to kill his victims. He usually goes for the neck first to make it quick.

Lucian gets scolded a lot by Eddie for trying to have a little bite of the corpses but We DoN't GoTtA tAlK aBoUt ThAt—

Lucian probably has a little crush on Eddie, but it's not decided yet :/

He's a scaredy-bean and hates spooky stuffs.

When Eddie gets upset Lucian plays with his ahoge to make him feel better.

Lucian calls everyone by flowers except for the people he doesn't like. Usually, he calls Eddie multiple kinds of flowers. (If he doesn't like you, he'll prolly call you a weed.)

Lucian has a bad sense of being gentle, for example, shaking someone's hand. He'll squeeze way too tight and often hurt the other. (However, when asked about why he doesn't have a problem with Eddie and being gentle, his answer is, "I knew I had to be gentle with him.")

Lucian is afraid of middle aged men because of his trauma. Since Danny is just that, Lucian is afraid of him. Plus, Danny tried to lift his bangs up (since he covers his left eye) to see both of his eyes.

Lucian might be a cannibal, but he's a precious child so please protect him 😭💕

This was my first design for him...I kept the hair color and the clothes lolol-

#angels of death oc #Oc: Lucian Williams #about my oc

33 notes · View notes

tcm · 3 years

Text

The Makers and the Breakers: The Hollywood Studio System By Constance Cherise

From anecdotal tales to darker narratives of downright malevolence, movies about the Hollywood studio system are as prevalent as the subject is understandably intriguing. Films like A STAR IS BORN (‘54), THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL (‘52) and, just for a bit of naughty camp, DAISY CLOVER (‘65), to name a few, all allow a voyeuristic gaze behind an enchanted curtain. The major Hollywood studios controlled all aspects of filmmaking, distribution and the lives and appeal of their stars.

A studio executive’s expertise was to home in on the "It" factor of an actor. Then the build-up of publicity would begin. A well-engineered system of perfectly timed pulleys and cranks, bells and whistles would turn, and it didn't matter whether stories about a star were the truth, embellishment or lies, from the studios perspective stars weren't actual people, they were commodities that were bought, sold, traded and used as pawns to the benefit of the studio system. (A thorough reference on this is Jeanine Basinger’s The Star Machine) But, if anyone had ill feelings about their treatment, only those that were the most daring spoke up. The cliché “You'll never work in this town again” wasn't just a catchphrase, it was wholly and utterly true. Speaking up too loudly about one's gilded cage could end a career faster than Eleanor Powell’s “machine gun” tap dancing. As quickly as the mechanism could build a pretty face to stardom, it could just as easily grind to a halt, meticulously dismantling at record speed.

The true genius of the studio system was its innate and pristine ability to create a persona around the most capable assets that their commodity had to offer. An exceptional dancer with buck teeth? No problem. Send her to the dentist for cosmetic surgery. A heartthrob of a man who was too short? No problem. Elevate his shoes and make sure his counterpart wasn't wearing heels. A knockout beauty who could dance but was too ethnic-looking? Change her hair color from jet black to red, perform electrolysis on her hairline, add luscious waves, put her on a diet and change her name from Margarita Carmen Cansino to Columbia Picture’s own Rita Hayworth.

The system found what was innately undeniable, played up the strengths and buffed, polished or cleverly disguise the flaws, a process still happening in media. But the studio system of the Golden Age was far-reaching. Its governance traveled beyond its inner sanctum into affecting contractors' personal lives. A moral clause was a standard part of an actors’ contract. Both law enforcement and mobsters were part of the studio’s payroll, a necessary tactic thought to keep its stars in line and to protect the industry's overall reputation. If a star found themselves in a compromising position, there was always a hired hand, such as in the case of MGM's Eddie Mannix, to respond, repair and refute, regardless of the cost. Studios further exerted control by means of inclusivity. By creating an insular studio with every conceivable notion at their fingertips, including health facilities and a police force (as was present at MGM), the studio system was privy to inside information by way of design and therefore able to thwart potential problems sooner rather than later.

Opinions amongst stars who were part of the system varied. Some found it confining and artistically stifling (United Artists was created as a direct result of the burgeoning studio system in 1919), while others enjoyed its protective embrace. Fred Astaire was not a particularly handsome man, but his virtuoso skill of dance was undeniable. By the time he made it to Tinseltown, he had already been a star on the stage and his elegant persona was well polished. Almost the same could be said for Gene Kelly, except that Kelly was quite handsome with his all-American chiseled features and athletic body. He too came to Hollywood bearing Broadway accolades. Anything else either star may have required was worth any level of contribution on the part of the studio. But most stars didn't come fully assembled.

youtube

Numerous classic musical fans are aware of actor and untrained dancer Debbie Reynolds’ account of bloodied feet while rehearsing “Good Morning'' for the film SINGING IN THE RAIN (‘52), a story she confirmed in a TCM interview with late host Robert Osborne. Reynolds would star in multiple roles where dance was required, and for someone who was not a professional, with training from expert choreographers, she fooled us all. Ava Gardner did not go looking for the fame that found her. She was discovered through a photo in a shop window. The daughter of sharecroppers, Gardner had no experience in acting to speak of, and in fact, had a free-spirited reputation of reluctance. She had to be trained out of her deep southern accent, but her naturally stunning features combined with her charm literally smoldered the camera.

For all the contract players who willingly or unwillingly accepted the exploitation of their assets, there were those few who refused to play by studio rules. One not to cower was Mae West, who solidified her autonomy by demanding and receiving one dollar more than the head of Paramount, Adolph Zuckor, as well as full script approval of her films. MGM’s Luise Rainer, after becoming the first woman to consecutively win two Academy Awards, turned her back on Hollywood due to its iron grip. "I did not like the superficial life that one is naturally forced at times to live,” Rainer stated in a TCM interview. William Haines, one time voted as America's top male star, refused to hide his homosexuality living an open life with his lover, defying the orders of traditional marriage by Louis B. Mayer and as a result was fired from MGM.

That's what the studio system did: take an inarguable asset, create an inflated persona around it, smooth the dents, add a little extra padding where necessary and package it to be received exactly how they envisioned for public consumption...or...destroy it. After all, with over 70% of Americans attending film theaters at least once a week, the public turned the film industry into a multi-million-dollar business during its Golden Age when the average price of a ticket was 25 cents. Studios were readily aware they held the power and used it skillfully to full advantage.

The studio systems tactics could easily be viewed as a calculated sleight of hand, however, it unequivocally delivered, and its final product was polished, pristine and precise. But for those that were plucked from obscurity, was it truly a sleight of hand? One could argue that you can't get blood from a stone, and if that statement is true, the studio’s techniques of engineered transformation couldn't possibly invoke aptitude that didn't already exist somewhere within, however miniscule. Perhaps, instead of the credit studio’s retained for creating stars, its genuine function was to awaken exceptional latent potential that was simply waiting to be discovered.

#Old Hollywood #Hollywood studios #Golden Age Hollywood #star system #MGM #Columbia #Mae West #Rita Hayworth #Fred Astaire #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #paramount pictures #Constance Cherise

137 notes · View notes

hamletteprinceofdenmark · 3 years

Text

The fact that both Angel and Spike’s original names were either literally or derived from the name William, which means protector, and that they both rejected this name in lieu of epithets that are symbolic rather than literal names.

That we are told in both instances the lore connected to these names in the popular consciousness.

That both of these stories are proven to be not true but instead connective threads taken directly and deliberately from their previous lives into their present undead existence.

That Angel is not called Angel because he has “an angelic face”. He is called Angel because he took on that name himself after his sister, who he cared for immensely, mistook him for an angel when he returned home after dying and Turning.

That Spike was referred to originally as William the Bloody not because of his unmatched violence and vitriol as he drove railroad spikes through people but because in life he was considered a “bloody awful” poet.

That these two men both individually rejected their original name, their original purpose, and their original lives, yet simultaneously took into their new lives new names that were based in formative moments of identity that they rejected outwardly but treasured inwardly, Liam as a positive presence in his sister’s life, that she clearly valued and appreciated, and William as a poet who people noticed, even if it was only to reject him.

That both of these men individually and independent of each other found and fell in love with Buffy, and that through knowing her took up again the mantle of protector, helping the hopeless, and creating space for others to be better than either Angel or Spike believed was possible for them personally, and in so doing proving that they were in fact capable of that same transformation.

I need to lie down.

#spike btvs #angel btvs #spangel #Buffy the vampire slayer #Angel the series #ats #aaaAAAAAAaaahHHH #this show makes me feel things man #my meta #btvs

144 notes · View notes

sunnydalebimbo · 3 years

Note

i’m back because i love asking questions. what are your top 5 comedic buffy episodes

Sorry for taking so long to reply! I’ve been sick snd there’s been a long series of unfortunate events leading up to this point! This is a fantastic question (feel more than free, encouraged in fact, to send more)

1) Something Blue - Some highlights: “Spike and I are getting married!” “You hands smell like fruit roll ups” “Stop! I can here the smacking” “Look at my poor neck, all bare and tender. GILES!” “You’re getting married to a guy named Spike?” (“You’re the one who wanted Wind Beneath My Wings for the first dance” [everyone looks over] “it was the spell”) “Well it pinches” “A little blood of the innocent” “Do you want Spike or William the Bloody on the invitations? Because wither way it will look major league weird” “Mr and Mrs Big Pile of Dust” The scene with the cake toppers!!!

2) Tabula Rasa - I love nothing more than amnesia episodes. Some highlights: Randy Spike thinking he’s basically Angel and then Joan Buffy totally mocking Angel. Giles and Spike thinking they’re rather and son. THE HORRIBLE PAIRINGS OF THIS EPISODE. Goodbye to you 😭. The literal lone shark demon who wants kittens from Spike.

3) Band Candy - Highlights: Giles is SO HOT. Cop car sex. The feather boa. “Yo Summers you drive like a spaz”. Ethan fucking Rayne. Tales of Brave Ulysses by Cream. “Punch him again”. Xander eating all the chocolate and still being perfectly fine. The Louie Louie rendition from Willow’s shirtless doctor. SNYDER.

4) Pangs - Highlights: “You made a bear” “I didn’t mean to” “undo it! undo it!”. Xander’s funny syphilis. Buffy being upset Xander didn’t bring roles. “Can I have someone to eat”. “It’s true, he had trouble performing”. “Like living skeletons, mate”. Everyone thing Angel is evil. Xander spilling the Angel beans at the episode’s end. “An entire siege, thought one of you would bleed a little”. “Isn’t he tall and glowering”

5) Lover’s Walk - Highlights: Drunk Spike. The deeply annoyed Angel, Spike, Buffy triad. Angel being trapped under a door for a ridiculous amount of time. “Oh God, I think I’m sobering up”. The idea that Cordelia goes bowling. MINI MARSHMALLOWS!!! Spike making mock vamp faces behind Joyce while Angel freaks out.

Bonus, funniest Angel episodes:

Objectively these are both terrible choice, but I adore amnesia and body swap episodes.

1) Spin the Bottle - Angel hates the English, Fred is desperate for weed, Wesley is painfully awkward but with stellar physical comedy, Queen C is back and in business, Gunn is so tired of these people’s shit, and Lorne is once again tied to a chair. Need I say more?

2) Carpe Noctem - all I can say is: so horny. also the only message I got from this episode is that Angel is wasting his eternal hunk privilege

#however with pangs i do encourage you to read or listen or speak to an indigenous person on why it didnt work #that is if they’re offering to teach #but there are some great articles by native people on why panys falls short of what it should accomplish #there are a ton more really comedic epsiodes but these one come to mind first #they’re my most rewatched episodes lol #him and doppelgängland are also so funny #even if him does boil my blood #and angel has so many more too!!#thanks for the ask!#I love answering questions!#so it works out!#btvs #ask

21 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 3 years

Note

Is it alright if I request prompt 47 again, since I've already requested it once?! This time with Grell?

That’s fine with me dear.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, clinginess, violence, blood

Prompt 47: “Telling me I’m crazy sounds wrong. Let’s...just say I’m madly in love with you.”

“Grell! What the heck?! Stop beating this guy up! You know exactly that you’ll get in troubles again with William!”, you yelled at her whilst trying to pull her from the man covered in black. He looked shitty and you dearly hoped he was still alive. “No! Let me go! He flirted with you today and I’ll kill him for this! I clearly heard how he called you disrespectful names! Just wait until I’m finished with this piece of trash!”, Grell protested loudly whilst struggling to free herself out of your grip. She was a grim reaper and was so much stronger than you. She could have ripped you off of her with ease, but she held back because she didn’t want to hurt you. You knew that you should probably be scared of seeing her beating someone up all bloody with the intention to kill him, but as sad as it may sounded, you were so used to it by now. Your main priority now was to save this man from dying a brutal death, you could later on feel scared. You tried with all of your strength to pull her back, but she just dragged you forwards like you were nothing at all.

“Grell! Try to think rationally! If William finds out what you’ve been doing this past few weeks he’ll take your death scythe from you and you’ll have to work overtime! That would mean you’ll have less time to spend with me!” When she suddenly stopped struggling you knew that you had gotten to her with these words. You knew exactly that Grell would do almost anything to spend time with you and you dearly hoped it would be enough to save this man. “You do have a point.”, she mumbled and you let a quiet sigh of relief out. It seemed like it would work. She slowly turned around to you. “However...” Oh no! “That doesn’t change the fact that he has seen me right now. And it is forbidden that humans know of our existence. And this guy here has a big mouth so I doubt he would keep it shut.” That was true though, but still. “We have nearly the twentieth century! No one would believe him!”, you tried to reason with her. “Can you guarantee that?”, she asked you. You wanted to answer, but couldn’t. You couldn’t because you couldn’t guarantee it. That he would keep his mouth shut was just wishful thinking from your side. Your silence confirmed her thoughts. She sighed. “I know that you don’t like me killing people. But first of all, it’s my job to kill people and second of all, I did tell you at the beginning of our relationship what would happen to anyone who dares to touch you.”

Relationship?! Which relationship?! This whole thing had been literally forced from the very beginning! Kidnapping you, dragging you to the cottage in the forest and locking you up in there didn’t count as a relationship! But you were wise enough to not tell her this. She pulled her death scythe out and started it. “If you don’t want to see this I would advice you to go away.” She slowly stepped towards the man who had slowly sat up and stared with terrified eyes at the grinning grim reaper. “No! Show mercy! I won’t tell anyone! I promise!” He looked desperately in your way. “You! Help me!” You watched his facial expression twisting into an ugly mask made out of fear. Pure fear. You had seen that face so often that it didn’t have much of an effect on you. You slumped your shoulders and turned around, leaving the both of them alone. You glanced one last time back and mouthed silently to the man:”I’m sorry.” Then you just walked away from the scene, ignoring the scared cries and pleads of the man and not once turning back. You walked behind the corner of the alley and leaned against it. You still Heard- the screams of the man echoing through the walls. Grell should just kill him. Why torturing the poor man so much? But then again, she liked to take her time with people who did you wrong. You felt a bit bad for him. No! Stop that! Stop feeling guilty! You took a deep breath to calm down. Feeling guilty wouldn’t do you anything good. It would just make you suffer more.

And just like that it suddenly became quiet. The screaming of the man had stopped. So she was done. You heard footsteps approaching you fastly before she stood right next to you, blood all splashed over her. You knew what she wanted to do and before she could do it you lifted your hand in a stopping manner. “Don’t hug me. You’re covered in blood and I’m not in the mood to get dirtied. It’s also so hard to wash blood out of clothes. Take a bath and then we can talk about cuddling. Grell gave you a confused look before she started pouting. You gave her a suspicious look before slowly turning around and walking towards the forest. “Let’s just go home and hope that William won’t find out about this or else you won’t be able to use that Death Scythe of yours again.” It wasn’t like she didn’t have other weapons. Truth to be told in your house she had a whole room filled with weapons, weapons and more weapons. It was hidden in the basement. And Grell had created this room for the simple reason so she would still have weapons if William should ever take her Death Scythe away. You guessed you should be glad that William didn’t decide to get rid of you after he found out about you, but Grell could be really annoying if she wanted too and had convinced William more or less to let her keep you. You could sympathize with William since the both of you seemed to suffer from a similar fate. Both of you were forced to spend a lot of time with the red clothed grim reaper. William when he was working with her and you when Grell was at home. You suspected that this was the reason why he had decided to let you live. Because you both were victims of Grell.

Suddenly you felt a force hitting you from behind. You needed a moment until you realized what this force was. Two strong arms squeezing nearly all the air out of you. “...Grell!!”, you yelled angrily and started thrashing around you. Damn it! You could feel how she smeared all the blood from her clothes and body on yours. “You idiot! Didn’t I tell you to wait until you’ve cleaned yourself up?!” You broke free from her grip and looked pissed off down you. As you had feared. You had blood on your whole body and it smelled terribly! “Just look what you’ve done! I’m completely dirty! And now I have to scrub my ass off to get rid of the blood from my clothes! Thank you very much Grell!” You panted heavily after your short outburst and glared angrily at her. She on the other hand had an adoring look on her face. “Uhh! I love it when you show your fire! But try to look at it from the positive side! Now we can take a bath to clean ourselves up!” Was that supposed to be a good thing?! You didn’t think so! “What the hell?! Do you think that’s a good thing?! For me it’s not! Are you crazy or something like this?!” Grell didn’t seem offended in the least bit. Instead her smile widened upon hearing your angry yelling voice. “Telling me I’m crazy sounds wrong. Let’s...just say I’m madly in love with you.”

You stopped glaring at her. What was the use in wasting all of your energy? You didn’t even know what kind of reaction you had hoped to get from her with your yelling. Did you want her to feel angry? Did you want her to feel remorse? You didn’t know, but you knew that whatever reaction you had hoped to get from her, it would be useless. You looked down on your filthy clothes. “You clean that up. You were the one who ruined them.”, you told her more calmer. “If that’s what you want!”, she answered thrilled and grabbed your hand in hers, dragging you fastly back to the forest, back to the house so the both of you could take a bath together.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere grell #yandere grell sutcliff

74 notes · View notes

phoenixonwheels · 4 years

Text

A true daughter of the confederacy has written what should be the last words on the monuments:

By Caroline Randall Williams

June 26, 2020

I have rape-colored skin. My light-brown-blackness is a living testament to the rules, the practices, the causes of the Old South.

If there are those who want to remember the legacy of the Confederacy, if they want monuments, well, then, my body is a monument. My skin is a monument.

Dead Confederates are honored all over this country — with cartoonish private statues, solemn public monuments and even in the names of United States Army bases. It fortifies and heartens me to witness the protests against this practice and the growing clamor from serious, nonpartisan public servants to redress it. But there are still those — like President Trumpand the Senate majority leader,Mitch McConnell — who cannot understand the difference between rewriting and reframing the past. I say it is not a matter of “airbrushing” history, but of adding a new perspective.

I am a black, Southern woman, and of my immediate white male ancestors, all of them were rapists. My very existence is a relic of slavery and Jim Crow.

According to the rule of hypodescent (the social and legal practice of assigning a genetically mixed-race person to the race with less social power) I am the daughter of two black people, the granddaughter of four black people, the great-granddaughter of eight black people. Go back one more generation and it gets less straightforward, and more sinister. As far as family history has always told, and as modern DNA testing has allowed me to confirm, I am the descendant of black women who were domestic servants and white men who raped their help.

It is an extraordinary truth of my life that I am biologically more than half white, and yet I have no white people in my genealogy in living memory. No. Voluntary. Whiteness. I am more than half white, and none of it was consensual. White Southern men — my ancestors — took what they wanted from women they did not love, over whom they had extraordinary power, and then failed to claim their children.

What is a monument but a standing memory? An artifact to make tangible the truth of the past. My body and blood are a tangible truth of the South and its past. The black people I come from were owned by the white people I come from. The white people I come from fought and died for their Lost Cause. And I ask you now, who dares to tell me to celebrate them? Who dares to ask me to accept their mounted pedestals?

You cannot dismiss me as someone who doesn’t understand. You cannot say it wasn’t my family members who fought and died. My blackness does not put me on the other side of anything. It puts me squarely at the heart of the debate. I don’t just come from the South. I come from Confederates. I’ve got rebel-gray blue blood coursing my veins. My great-grandfather Will was raised with the knowledge that Edmund Pettus was his father. Pettus, the storied Confederate general, the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, the man for whom Selma’s Bloody Sunday Bridge is named. So I am not an outsider who makes these demands. I am a great-great-granddaughter.

And here I’m called to say that there is much about the South that is precious to me. I do my best teaching and writing here. There is, however, a peculiar model of Southern pride that must now, at long last, be reckoned with.

This is not an ignorant pride but a defiant one. It is a pride that says, “Our history is rich, our causes are justified, our ancestors lie beyond reproach.” It is a pining for greatness, if you will, a wish again for a certain kind of American memory. A monument-worthy memory.

But here’s the thing: Our ancestors don’t deserve your unconditional pride. Yes, I am proud of every one of my black ancestors who survived slavery. They earned that pride, by any decent person’s reckoning. But I am not proud of the white ancestors whom I know, by virtue of my very existence, to be bad actors.

Among the apologists for the Southern cause and for its monuments, there are those who dismiss the hardships of the past. They imagine a world of benevolent masters, and speak with misty eyes of gentility and honor and the land. They deny plantation rape, or explain it away, or question the degree of frequency with which it occurred.

To those people it is my privilege to say, I am proof. I am proof that whatever else the South might have been, or might believe itself to be, it was and is a space whose prosperity and sense of romance and nostalgia were built upon the grievous exploitation of black life.

The dream version of the Old South never existed. Any manufactured monument to that time in that place tells half a truth at best. The ideas and ideals it purports to honor are not real. To those who have embraced these delusions: Now is the time to re-examine your position.

Either you have been blind to a truth that my body’s story forces you to see, or you really do mean to honor the oppressors at the expense of the oppressed, and you must at last acknowledge your emotional investment in a legacy of hate.

Either way, I say the monuments of stone and metal, the monuments of cloth and wood, all the man-made monuments, must come down. I defy any sentimental Southerner to defend our ancestors to me. I am quite literally made of the reasons to strip them of their laurels.

Caroline Randall Williams (@caroranwill) is the author of “Lucy Negro, Redux” and “Soul Food Love,” and a writer in residence at Vanderbilt University.

#Caroline Randall Williams #tw rape #racism #slavery

208 notes · View notes