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reallyromealone · 2 years

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hello kuya!!! will you be making a part three of the sanzu x reader? the one where sanzu and reader are soulmates and sanzu is a prince?

I sure can Buster

Everything about him confused but fascinated Sanzu.

This was the person made for him but he was just... Wild and carefree.

Like even though he didn't know if the sun would rise tomorrow be would still be happy none the less.

Sanzu found he wanted to know absolutely everything about the other, he was just everything Sanzu craved so desperately.

When they returned to the palace everyone was shocked to say the least as they looked upon the mage who hid within the woods that harbored wild magic and his bare feet made a soft sound against the expensive marbal and his robes hanging loosely against him as if lazily put on.

"So this is your soulmate" takeomi commented, finding the person his younger brother was paired for life with to be amusing to say the least but (name) payed him no mind "some two bit mage with no decency"

(Name) just turned to look at him with an expression unreadable and Sanzu was curious to see how this would play out "I am creation both haunted yet just, I know my ancestors look down upon me fondly as I have polished the magic the cultivated into an art piece" his voice clear, no longer playful and fun like Sanzu had quickly grown to enjoy, it was firm and confident.

"What can you say about yourself?"

The room was silent as Takeomi stared down the tattood mage whose gaze was equally unyeilding and that's when Takeomi realized how Sanzu and this mage were meant to be one.

Letting out a chuckle takeomi smiled at the younger man almost fondly "shiny spine, you will survive here"

(Name) seemed to loose interest in the man, looking around the room "Gladiolus... They look a little wilted" (name) commented and Sanzu was about to blame the maids when (name) touched the flower and a soft glow gave the flowers new life "so tell us about yourself!" Senju spoke up as she looked at the mage facinated and (name) tilted his head "what do you want to know?"

"Where are you from? Do you have family? How did you learn that?!"

Sanzu sighed as he watched his sister shoot a million questions at (name) who didn't seem phased "what's your name?" Was her final question and (name) tilted his head "I am from the north spire... I was raised by mages and taught by said mage's and my name is (name)"

"What's your last name?"

"I was never given one, the mage's didn't see it as important"

The mage's of the northern Spire were reclusive and didn't particularly talk with the outside so it was fascinating hearing these things "well when you marry Haru, you will be an Akashi!"

(Name) made no sounds of disapproval and Sanzu took it as an opportunity to drag him away from his siblings at the mention of seeing the mage's lab "you're seeing another mage? What am I not good enough?" (Name) teased as they walked in and from the get-go (name) was appalled "do you not have a greenhouse for these mage's?! Somewhere to grow ingredients in this grand castle!" He snapped as the mage's made themselves known and were startled to see the prince and...it can't be, can it?

"Look at this! They have the bare minimum! You can shell out 100,000 gold to find me but not even half for the people who heal you!"

Sanzu looked like a kicked puppy as (name) ripped into him, the two mage's looking at the man in awe, not a lot of people actually cared about the mage's quarters.

Suddenly (name) turned around and looked at the young mage's, the two barely seemed to know what they were doing "and who might you two be?" He asked stepping forward and the two looked almost star struck at him "I-Im takemichi sir!"

"A-and I'm Chifuyu!"

"Were huge fans!"

"How do you two know of him?"Sanzu snapped, glaring down the two mage's who looked terrified of the prince "h-hes practically a celebrity in the magic community!"

"A celebrity?"

"Yesyes, now back to the matter at hand!" (Name) puffed up "If you want me to be your queen or whatever, I best see some changes!" He looked like an angry tattood kitten in Sanzus eyes, the man actually allowing the mage to be all huffy and order him around.

Anyone else would be killed.

It was an adjustment with (name) in his life, all his late night affairs over with as (name) made it clear that he would rock his shit if he cheated on him claiming "you go hunting for me and then cheat? That's a waste of everyone's time!"

He was like a magical toddler, never wearing shoes and constantly getting into things.

The guards had a panic attack when they saw the mage in a tree trying to grab an apple, apparently to lazy to go to the kitchen and get an actual meal.

Sanzu didn't know how to deal with such chaos but when the greenhouse was built it was worth having this energetic gremlin for a soulmate because the look of awe on his face was just phenomenal.

"Do you want to see something cool?" (Name) asked Sanzu with a feral grin, the prince just raising an eyebrow and before he knew it the room glowed and the plants sprung from their dirt beds into fully grown plants "TADA!"

Sanzu was shocked to say the least "how..."

The room was vibrant and full of Life, magical herbs and plants bountiful and fresh "my magic alignment is with nature so this is easy peasy!"

Well they won't have to worry about winters that's for sure.

When the wedding came (name) wasn't expecting the mage's to show, knowing they and the capital were like oil and water but was pleased to see his friends had come to such an event.

(Name) sat and let Mitsuya style and make him look perfect, the mage a bit uncomfortable wearing a woman's wedding robe for the ceremony but tolerated it as he was dolled up "and to think bust a few months ago you were hiding in your hut"

"It was a good home"

"How's the palace treating you"

"They keep trying to get me to stop climbing trees"

"How unreasonable of them" Mitsuya chuckled and soon it was time for (name) to be married, he really never thought his life would get to this, his life was built upon studying magic.

He was practically told that was all that mattered.

He never thought about making friends or finding his soulmate.

Then he left the safety of the northern spires magic academy to explore and adventure, met Mitsuya and Hakkai and by some strange accident met his soulmate.

"Do you (name) take prince Haruchiyo to be your husband?"

Snapping out of his trance (name) said a soft 'I do', the silver band gently put on his finger.

After the ceremony was a grand party where (name) and Sanzu weren't allowed to leave their spot as the party went on but Sanzu noticed that (name) was using a napkin and wrote symbols on it and with a grin he smacked it and the napkin turned into a napkin figurine and began dancing "are you enjoying the food?" Sanzu asked softly and (name) nodded "why can't we go boogie?" (Name) asked with a child like grin and Sanzu raised an eyebrow at his choice of words "it's tradition that we stay and be the beacons of the new dawn of the kingdom"

"What do we do after this?"

"Well some do honeymoons and others get into more... thrilling things"

"Like fighting pixies"

"Ye...no not that at all"

"Playing with fireworks"

"No like sex"

"Ohhhh"

"Why do you fight Pixies and play with fireworks?"

"Because I can and pixies are dicks"

"Noted"

The couple were eventually freed to go back to their now shared room and Sanzu noticed (name) struggle with the robes "need help"

"Why do I have to wear this god forsaken thing?!"

"Because I asked your friend to do it oh so nicely"

"You fucking payed him didn't you"

"Oh no, I just asked what would piss you off quickest"

"My own husband betraying me, the nerve!"

The two joked back and forth a bit, Sanzu finding it easy to talk to his husband as he helped undress and noted the tattoos and sigils around his body "what are these anyways?"

"When a mage masters their field of magic they get their spellbook tattood on their skin so they are never without"

"So my mates weren't even close to being masters huh?"

"Absolutely not, but I'm willing to teach them"

"So gracious my queen"

"Not gonna give that up are you?"

"Not until it stops annoying you"

"Damn"

The two didn't get frisky that night but did take the time to unwind, Sanzu actually unmasking himself and confused at the awestruck expression "you look so cool!" He said practically pulling Sanzu close by his face "you don't think I'm ugly"

"I don't know how to explain that you are so pretty it hurts to look at you"

Sanzu was at a loss for words as (name) examined his face "prettiest flower indeed"

"What..?"

"You are definitely a Gladiolus!"

The two spent the night talking away, (name) showing his magic off and Sanzu showing him his swords.

No one expected these two opposites to be so perfect but they were the balance the other needed.

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #sanzu x male reader #male reader

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radioactive-earthshine · 9 months

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Do you have any lesser know dc comics to recommend? I followed you for Impulse content, but I see you talking about a lot of comics I know nothing about and I am very intrigued by them. Would love to get into some of them but I'm not sure where to start.

Apologies for the lack of Impulse content (lately), there are about 3 blogs currently doing live-blogs for his series so I didn't want to sort of shoehorn in.

Anyway as for lesser known or unpopular comics I would highly recommend;

1.) New Gods and the extended Fourth World by Jack Kirby.

I'm reading New Gods right now - I feel like opening up to The Fourth World is just a good idea for any DC fan as it circles back to the main universe for the heroes quite a bit in some way and it gives you a better understanding of who Darkseid is, at the very least.

As important and beloved by comic collectors and historians as these comics are, I've found that very, very, very few comic fans have ever picked up a single issue.

Start with New Gods 1971 #1

2.) Reboot "Post-Zero Hour Legion of Super Heroes"

If you love Impulse, then you may love LOSH as we get to see more of his beloved cousin Jenni. Despite it having dozens of characters each one gets to have lovely stories that make you care about each and every one of them.

Like with New Gods, I don't run into many that have read the 90s LOSH (or any LOSH) as it is an outlier to the main timeline. Still it is incredibly important to the main timeline in many ways and it gives us a whole new world to play in 1000 years in the future across the galaxy where finally the fucking Batman isn't relevant.

It is everything TTv3 should have been, and despite being older, it somehow is less problematic in every single area.

It's like Star Trek meets Justice League where every league member is a teenager and yet has MORE responsibility and power than they EVER did. There's something about it... these teenagers ARE teenagers but they are all basically expected to be adults at all times and they have varying degrees of successes. They are like the anti-Young Justice- whose message was 'teenagers are teenagers, not babies, not children, not adults' and instead they just don't.... GET to BE teenagers due to broken family dynamics or governmental interference.

Reads more like a manga which some may appreciate more.

Send a DM or an ask for reading order because to start it's weird and even I need to look it up.

3.) Orion by Walter Simonson

My absolute two favorite comics EVER produced by DC are 1.) Impulse then 2.) Orion. Everything about this series is literature as it goes through Orion's adventures as he dethrones Darkseid and rules on Apokolips. We get him falling, redeeming himself and finally truly accepting himself for who he is and finally discovering who he is. Also yes, he and Lightray are still madly in love. The art also slaps.

You start with Orion #1. It's also in TPB compiled into two books.

4.) Relative Heroes

This is a six issue mini that follows orphans/foster children as they flee authorities after their parents are murdered and they uncover some secrets about some of their siblings that endanger all of them. Each teen has a different walk of life, ability, age, race, and gender and the comic touches on some surprising things despite being released in the 90s like police brutality against poc and the hyper-vigilance of poc while in public due to being seen as inherently violent.

Crosses over with Impulse for an issue which is a delight.

Start with Relative Heroes #1.

5.) L.E.G.I.O.N. and R.E.B.E.L.S.

So this definitely has a CW for sexual assault for a female assailant against a male victim where it was not just implied, it was blatant, where the word 'rape' was used multiple times in comics and where the victim did in fact express his trauma from it a few times. Unfortunately, due to the time it was written (late 80s through mid 90s) it was not handled the best of ways and there's a good essay to make on how misogyny and toxic masculinity was involved in this incident but at the end of the day this is a complex DARK comic that is the anti-superhero superhero comic. It makes you think and it also will make you mad at times.

Although there is some more subtle sexism in the writing just due to the time it was released we do get some very powerful and INTERESTING female characters, and even GNC female characters (sadly she is an alien and normal for her kind so it follows that trope but it was still pretty profound for the time).

We also get to see some toxic AF dynamics which if you love that go for it - but we also get to see vulnerability and character growth and dealing with trauma in... less than stellar ways.

Interesting comic that will definitely stir a conversation and I have only run into ONE person in real life that has read this comic and it is the owner of my local comic shop and he's about 60.

Start with L.E.G.I.O.N. #1.

6.) Static: Season One and Static: Shadows of Dakota

These are CURRENT comics following Virgil Hawkins, Dwayne McDuffie's (RIP) iconic character Static, re-visioned and updated to current events. It is blatantly, loudly BLM and touches on the systematic racism and -ism marginalized people face in a concise way that is not brutal or painful to read.

If you watched the show Static Shock but had a hard time connecting with the original 90s comics then you might like this vision a little better as it takes DIRECT inspiration from the show in character designs, and characters. Richie Foley is Richie Foley and he is gay.

Virgil is smart, he's a literal LARP nerd, and he is kind and we all love him.

Shadows of Dakota is CURRENT, as in it is ongoing now. Please consider putting it on a pull-list. It's also fairly new so picking up back issues to catch up if that's your thing shouldn't be too hard.

All of Static Season One is in TPB now.

Start with Static: Season One #1 and read through to the next series.

7.) Spirit World

This is literally the most original thing I have seen from DC in YEARS. It follows an amazing non-binary Chinese-American spirit envoy named Xanthe. The creative team are all AAPI. If you love manga or anime you might really, really like this as there are some visuals and tonal inflections that are reminiscent of stories like Petshop of Horrors.

It is brand new and is CURRENT and ongoing, we have only just toed our way into a plot into the colorful, and dangerous, Spirit World with Cass and Constantine as Xanthe's companions.

Put this on a pull-list so help me. Start with Spirit World #1.

Additionally...

Have you read Reign of the Supermen yet? Definitely suggest that to get to know Kon's baby steps a little better and why... he's like that.

There's also Kon's solo series which you know sure as fuck hardly anyone has bothered to read even though he is a fairly popular character. You'll also find out why.... he's LIKE that.

Do you like cross-overs? Try picking up the Star Trek/Green Lantern series which is an absolute delight in that campy WEIRD Star Trek way. Hal Jordan and Jim Kirk in a room together should only ever be chaos and bedroom eyes but that's just me.

Green Lantern The Animated Series tie-in comics are also a delight as they tie into the animation which is heavily praised as being THAT GOOD and... it is that good. They are easy reading too an are episodic so no worries which one you start with.

Happy reading!

#dc comics #reading rec

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babygirlgiles · 6 months

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Apparently the thing I’ve learned about Hunger Games fanfiction is that typically it’s less of a study of the universe and the characters that inhabit it and more a study in people’s reactions to the universe and/or people’s assumptions about like. Life in general. Idk I just have so many questions for these ppl. What do these people think living in poverty is like? Do they really think Katniss’s one room home on the outskirts of the country’s poorest region has a wall thermostat? How do they think that thermostat operates, in a region that regularly goes long stretches of time without electricity? How do they think glow in the dark stars are manufactured? What about plastic pee on a stick pregnancy tests, how do they think those are made? Why do siblings or family members never share beds, especially when it’s literally mentioned in the book? Why do they think that Katniss and Peeta, whose relationship has been subjected to endless government scrutiny and who live in a region known for it’s lack of government oversight, would ever want or need to get legally married? Why do they think that Katniss would ever change her last name, which is in many ways one of her last connections to her dead father and her dead sister? Where do they think lactose free milk comes from? Why does Katniss have a dishwasher? Why does Katniss. Have a dishwasher.

#a toaster oven I can forgive even though that still makes very little sense but a dishwasher?#they don’t have running water.#do you know how often I see the dishwasher too???? do you have any idea how often miss Katniss no running water Everdeen has a dishwasher???#I am genuinely just so fascinated by this like I’m not even enjoying the fics for the most part I’m just so intrigued by ppls assumptions #I can’t get over the dishwasher thing tho like. how am I supposed to act normal knowing many people think Katniss Everdeen has a dishwasher.#also yeah sorry idk how to explain myself on this one #Idek when/why I started reading this stuff it wasn’t a conscious decision #I’m going to be so tired at work tomorrow and it’s solely bc I am HAUNTED by these dishwashers

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iamthenerdqueen · 11 months

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His Star - Prologue

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!OC, GOT AU (Daenerys is a good Queen fight me), HOTD AU

CW: minor character death, Targcest

~Part 1~

The walls of the Red Keep stared back at Daenerys Targaryen, cold and full of judgment as they had every man and woman who had sat upon the Iron throne before her. Unlike those who had inhabited the throne since the fall of her father, the stone walls of the keep felt like a welcome home.

But still, to the newly coronated queen, this home felt foreign. A place she had read about, and studied from afar, but now she could learn this home. As a child, she had been fascinated with the untold stories and the whispered tales that existed only within these walls. The new queen smiled, grateful she had returned to the throne without having to burn the city as she was prepared to do and thankful that all she had dreamed each night before sleep as a small girl was hers—belonging once again to the House of Targaryen.

The silence was broken by the sound of footfalls, ones the young queen had come to recognize as those belonging to her hand: Tyrion Lannister. The man had become a great comfort to her in the weeks leading up to her ascension and now directly after her remained a pillar within her vastly different landscape.

With a bow of his head, the short man greeted her with a smile, “It is quite late to be in here, my queen. The hour of the wolf meets little comfort in these halls, I have come to know that better than most. I have spent many nights wandering the halls of this Keep and -”

Tyrion’s voice trailed off as his smile turned into a smirk, his voice pitching up in humor.

“And what, Lord Hand?”

“And wandering the brothels of Flea Bottom. There was one point in my glorious youth, a handful of years ago where I could name almost every whore on the Street of Silk.” Laughter echoed off the walls and for a moment the two felt the weight of their ever-growing responsibility leave.

“Lord Tyrion, I want to know this place. As a small child, I would look upon the stars and imagine my ancestors. Their lives beyond what is written in the histories, and the tales whispered among the small folk. I am a Targaryen in name, in blood, by right of dragon, and yet I feel so alone in this world.”

A deep sigh left the queen before she continued, “I feel alone here as if after all this time, I do not know my own family.”

Tyrion looked upon his queen, and his thoughts shifted to his favorite tale of the Red Keep. One he thought she may just like.

“Have you heard of your ancestor, The Strangers Mistress? Her tale is my favorite to have happened within these walls.” The Hand of the Queen knew her answer before he asked, very few remembered the Lady Valaena, and even less wrote of her existence. Her title, given by the small folk was unfortunately accurate, her whole life had been spent under the gaze of the Stranger.

“No, I am not familiar.”

Her tone told Tyrion just how curious she was in this world she had been ripped away from before she was even born. In those moments, Daenerys’ age showed. The young and curious mind peaking from behind the walls a queen had built to protect herself.

“I would be more than obliged to tell you. I found a journal that told me much about her life during my previous time at the Red Keep, it is rare for her story to be spoken. It has become known as a way to call the Stranger’s eyes to glare upon you. The Strangers Mistress, whose true name was Valaena Targaryen, named after the mother of the Conqueror himself. She was born just two months after Prince Aemond Targaryen and would live to see her family’s deadly dance.”

The hand stopped his narration to reflect on the tragedy that was the Dance of the Dragons. The blacks against the greens, a family at war with each other. It all seemed too familiar to him now, the ghosts of his father and siblings still lingered in his mind each day.

With a glance and breath, Lord Tyrion began again, “Her mother was the youngest child of Prince Aemon Targaryen and Lady Jocelyn Baratheon, Princess Daenys who was born 90 AC and sister to the Queen who never was.”

In the seconds between the Lord Hand’s words, Daenerys paused in the open passageway they were walking through. The sky had finally cleared, no longer was there smoke in the air and the only thing that lingered in the cloudless sky was her children. Perhaps, they too were mourning their long-gone family.

“Lady Valaena’s father was the youngest brother of King Viserys I, Prince Aelor. The surviving twin of the stillborn Prince Aegon. He was the mirror image of his mother Princess, with one eye of violet, the other a brilliant green color. A bright and happy boy, he earned the name the Realms sun. Given to him by King Jaehaerys I, who held great affection for the young boy. After the passing of the Old King in 103, Prince Aelor claimed the Bronze Fury while the Princess Daenys had claimed her grandmother's dragon, Silverwing.”

A small smile grew on the Targaryen’s face as she thought of the two sharing a great love and their dragons being just as devoted as they were.

Tyrion continued, “It is said, in the last moments of his life as he lay dying in the Stepstones, the Prince Aelor cried out to the gods begging them to keep his family in their palms and safe from harm. Most believe when he called to them the Stranger was the only one listening and turned his gaze unto the unborn daughter of the Prince. The first time Lady Valaena Targaryen opened her eyes, one of violet and one of green, the Stranger marked her just as her father had begged.”

Tyrion stopped for a moment, thinking back to the literature he had come read about this tragedy. As he looked toward his Queen, she had her eyes on him invested in his story.

“Prince Aelor was known as the realms sun and the Princess Daenys was the realms moon. The small folk called the day Daenys went into labor The Great Eclipse as she brought a starling into the world. It was said that during her labor, her cries so loud her sister could hear her all the way in Driftmark.”

The Great Eclipse, the twentieth day of the sixth month many years before...

Fourteen hours had come to pass since Daenys had received the raven detailing her beloved's death, impaled in the gut by the savages of the Triarchy. Only moments later did her cries of sorrow turn to cries of pain as the news sent the pregnant Princess into labor three weeks too early.

King Viserys I Targaryen waited on the Iron Throne, heartbroken at the news of his youngest brother's death and anxious as his cousin fought to bring a child into the world. His daughter refused to leave her favorite of her father’s cousins and his young wife could not find peace through the screams of the struggling Princess. Alicent stared at Aemond, thinking back to his birth only a few months prior. The small Prince, not even half the size of his older brother Aegon, now sleeping unbothered by the chaos that had overtaken the Red Keep.

The cries of Daenys stopped just as suddenly as they began, and the King was filled with panic in the following moments when his daughter entered the throne room face red with tears, a small bundle hidden within her arms.

“Fa- Father” Rhaenyra choked out, looking up at Viserys through wet lashes

“Father, I present to you the Lady Valaena Targaryen.” As she finished her sentence, Viserys crossed the room to stand close to his daughter and the babe in her arms. Slowly he took the child Rhaenyra had stretched out to him. He couldn’t help the tears that formed as his mother's eyes stared at him. His youngest brother’s eyes now belonged had passed on to his daughter, striking against the tufts of dark Baratheon hair already on the babe's head.

“She will be a great beauty of the realm, a perfect mixture of her parents. Come Rhaenyra, it is late. I am sure, Daenys wants her little one back into her arms at once. We shall congratulate and thank her for giving us a lasting piece of Aelor.”

Before he could turn to walk toward Daenys chambers, the broken sob of his daughter stopped him. One he had heard before in an eerily similar situation.

“The Princess Daenys does not wait for us, Father.”

The King did not know how it was possible, but his heart shattered for the second time that day. He knew that she could not bear to be in this world without Aelor, their souls were one and the same.

It was within the walk to the nursery, to find a wet nurse that Viserys decided that he would protect the child and raise it in his Keep. She would have all the luxuries of his own children, she was a dragon and he would see she was never alone.

The small babe began to wail as they reached the nursery, an inconsolable cry for her mother and father who would never hear her. This cry caught the ear of Queen Alicent, still inside watching the rise and fall of her youngest son's chest.

With a slight bow to her husband, the Queen came to his side, “Your cousin has completed her labors?”

The question clung to the thick air within the Keep that night, the sound of the orphaned babe filling the air.

Attempting to soothe the babe with a gentle bounce, the brokenhearted King spoke, "Yes, the Princess Daenys gave the remainder of her soul to bring life to their little Starling. She has gone to meet my brother in the arms of the Stranger."

The King's words carried a great tragedy, and the babe wailed louder waking her cousin in his crib. A sound came from the Prince – nothing more than a babe's coo – but for some reason unknown to the King and Queen: that one sound calmed the dark-haired newborn. Carefully, the King handed the newborn to the wet nurse to be fed. Requesting that she be placed next to his infant son for comfort after. A dragon egg that would turn to stone taken from the crib to make room for the girl. The ruler and his consort left the infants under the watchful eye of the wet nurse, and when she was placed beside him, the small Princeling turned toward his new crib mate. At peace with one another, both babes fell into a slumber.

AN: Hi it’s me... back in another fandom :) Anyway might cross post this later to Wattpad who knows. Let me know what you think and if you like where this might go. Also, Team Black all the way but I do love my crazy murders. Again this is not proof read, so just ignore any

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nerdby · 9 months

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The Loki season two trailer dropped today. Judging from the trailer, the series seems to be leaning more into the series' horror elements. I'm basing that largely on the soundtrack because I have not met a single person that isn't creeped the fuck out by theremin music, myself included. That being said this is definitely your typical horror story. It falls into the social horror genre, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite subgenres.

Social horror is a newly emerging genre of horror that examines all of the fucked shit that we as a society allow to take place simply because the mainstream says that it's ok.

In the case of the Loki series that is allowing one person to take the fall for crimes that he didn't even do and also hunting down and murdering someone simply cause they're transgender. And I know that not everyone headcannons Sylvie as trans and for those of you who don't, I have a question for you:

If Sylvie isn't trans and was simply born female, then why didn't the TVA come for her as an infant? Why would they wait until she was a child capable of complex magic and, ya know, running away?

Just a little something to think about.

It does seem as though Sylvie's story is taking the back burner in season two. Or that's how it seems in this trailer. She didn't exactly turn out to be a fan favorite among stalkerish Hiddlestoners who can't stand to see Tom have a love life even if it's an imaginary one. Or among biphobic assholes who insist that being a straight-passing relationship negates a bisexual's queerness. So it would make sense if Sylvie got less screen time, but she was also a huge part of the season one story arc.

I, personally, thought it was nice that Loki had someone who didn't exist simply to remind him of what a terrible person he was simply for existing. But it's like I said their kiss didn't really eek me out as much as it did other people cause I guess I'm desensitized. Desensitization is what happens when you watch A LOT of horror movies over a long period of time. Or when you just live through so much fucked up shit that you just stop caring.

I do have a line, though, and I don't go out of my way to read about incest and shit like that. Like there's this book called All The Ugly & Wonderful Things by Bryn Greenwood that I absolutely refuse to read because the plot is basically that this girl's life is so fucked up that the only good thing she has is an incestous relationship with her brother or someone. That's just fucking torture porn, ok? It's disgusting. But the whole incest/self-cest trope also plays into the social horror thing cause that happens quite often in horror stories.

Cause usually when characters end up in a consensual incestous relationship it's because they've bonded over shared trauma and are kept so isolated both socially and psychically.....That I guess it starts to feel like it's impossible for someone other than this sibling or whoever to love and understand them.

It's not meant to be sexy or funny. It's meant to be tragic. And like you think you might be some desensitizing yourself I highly recommend--

Vampire Knight by Matsuri Hino

Flowers In The Attic by V.C. Andrews

Bates Motel tv series

Vampire Knight also exists as an anime, but I don't think the complete series was ever put to film. So if you wanna know how it ends then you need to read the manga. Flowers In The Attic is also a movie and you definitely want the 1987 version if you decide to watch it. Here's the trailer--

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The movie is (or was) available to stream for free on Tubi.

And Bates Motel is a TV series that depicts a prequel to Robert Bloch's classic horror novel Psycho. The novel was adapted as a movie by Alfred Hitchcock whose well-known for putting horror movies on the map with his film, The Birds. Bates Motel stars Freddie Highmore and my favorite scream queen, Vera Farmiga who you may know from the Conjuringverse movies that depict the work of famed paranormal investigators (and con-artists) Ed and Lorraine Warren. Here's the trailer for that, too--

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If you guys think some of these are too much for you to handle or that they're too triggering, I recommend looking up reaction videos and embracing schadenfreude because I can promise you if the person watching is a first time viewer.......Well, the first time I watched Bates Motel I was pretty much making this face the entire time--

So yeah.

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darkscorpiox · 2 years

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MCU Fem!Tony / Natasha Stark cast choice: Winona Ryder (born in 1971)

Lydia Deetz - Beetlejuice (1988) / Ian - Weird Science (1985)

Corky - Night on Earth (1991) / Julian Wells - Less Than Zero (1987)

Veronica Sawyer - Heathers (1989) / Tony Stark - Iron Man (2008)

Lydia Deetz - Beetlejuice (1988) / Tony Stark - Iron Man 3 (2013)

I’m no movie/acting connoisseur and my choice may be due to old movies instead of more recent ones, but Ryder’s roles during her younger days display a certain vibe close to Tony’s. After noticing the similarities, I couldn’t unsee it. Then, I started doing a little bit (actually A LOT) of searching on internet and found some interesting things which had fortified my opinion on my casting choice.

She had played in movies with MCU actors and actresses. To name those she would have appeared with during scenes:

Chris Evans - The Iceman (2012)

Chris Hemsworth - Star Trek (2009)

Sebastian Stan - Black Swan (2010) (along with Natalie Portman)

Micheal Keaton - Beetlejuice (1988)

Leslie Bib - Sex and Death (2007)

Frank Grillo - Homefront (2013)

Tim Guinee - How to Make an American Quilt (1995), The Private Lives of Pippa Lee (2009)

Aaron Himelstein - The Informers (2009)

She was cast in two movies with RDJ: 1969 (1988) (playing as siblings at that!) and A Scanner Darkly (2006). To my surprise, she also had a scandal which made her unable to be hired for a few years (notably Melinda and Melinda (2003) which would have been the third time she would have co-starred with RDJ).

She is known for her petite stature and her big eyes, traits that are exaggerated in Stevetony fanfics (as far as I know).

Jo March (Little Women, 1994) and Corky (Night on Earth, 1991), because they are played by Ryder, are beautiful women. The former got the attention of a suitor and the latter the prospect of being a movie star, but both reject their respective offer, because it’s not what they desire. Jo March wants to write for a living and Corky to be a mechanic (see a similarity? 😏).

The titular character of Edward Scissorhands (1990), whose love interest, Kim Boggs, is played by Ryder, is like Tony: had a good fatherly figure till said person’s death, leaving him alone for years; caring and capable of creating beautiful things, but their hands can also hurt and that’s the reason people see them as dangerous. Kim, after sharing a farewell kiss with Edward, lives long enough to grow old and have a granddaughter to whom she tells a story about him. Doesn’t it have Peggy vibes?

Ryder had experience in sci-fi movies (Alien Ressurection, A Scanner Darkly) and playing characters with mental issues (Girl, Interrupted, Black Swan, Stranger Things).

Her Joyce Byers from Stranger Things (2016-) is a single mother determined to find and save her missing son through any mean necessary even if it makes her appear crazy. She’s also a mother figure for another child in the show. For fans who love Irondad, here’s Ironmom.

There’s also the irony of playing a futurist when some of her characters were from period dramas (e.g.: Bram Stocker’s Dracula, Little Women, The Crucible)

So? What do you think?

#mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #tony stark #iron man #female tony stark #natasha stark #iron woman #winona ryder #rdj #robert downey jr #robert downey junior #mine

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himbos-hotline · 9 months

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Tell me more about Jay and Nicky!

I feel like i could write companion peices on Jay and her brother. Firstly, Jay isnt the middle sibling out of the Bucks. He is techically the little baby but Nick protested it SO HARD that Jay is the "middle sibling" Jay and Nick are a lot alike in that most of the time theyre seen as kinda childish and less open people but also those the people who like fly off the handle; they're both the hearts of their respective partnerships Jay is the heart of the BCC but a hear thats been roughed up and is still kinda yearning for their RIGHT MANAGER TO RETURN instead of a walking snake and how if you want the bucks or the elite to hurt you target Nick because althought he is the more like "level" one outta the bucks hes the one whose face betrays his emotions. Jay is little and soft enough to like hang out with Nick regardless of Nicks emotional state or mood, just a sea of human that doesnt overwhelm him or upset him and Nick is there to get Jay to like, tap into the calmer less bloodthirsty side. Jay is like agressively protective of Nick in a way thats sweet and kind wihtout seeming like shes baby-ing or infantalising him. They sit together a lot.

When jay met the bucks for the first time, just after leaving the JAS and not trusting anyone because he was having a gender crisis and trying out what its like to be alone again after being thrown out of the JAS. Nick was the one that she was kinda drawn too more-they liked that he was quiet and wasnt really ashamed of how different his brain works. The quietness compared to Matts pushy kinda braty attitude reminded them of someone that Jay should have known yknow. The more time Jay spends with kenny talking about gender things and crushes [just wheeler at this point and a little hanger] the more time she spent with the bucks and the more time they spent with nick especially. He had a million questions for them about their hetrochomia and her hearing aids and what happened [matt told him off for that because "you cant ask whats wrong with people nick! the fuck?!" "but I wanna know!"] and eventually, Jays drained after a match and goes to find Kenny only finding matt and nick.

the three of them sit and talk for a little while Matt washes the blood off Jays nose and eventually Jay falls asleep sweaty curls plastered against their eyes. A little while goes by and Jay wakes up with Matts jacket over them and Nicks bandana keeping their curls off his face and Nick keeping an eye on them while he sleeps and "we took your hearing aids out, they dont look comfy to sleep in." "she cant hear you dumbass."

I always explain Jay and the Bucks like theyre MEANT to be siblings. They were always meant to find one another. In every universe they fall head over heels for one another in the most platonic brotherly way. But they were never meant to be blood brothers. Like in a timeline Jay and the bucks meet at a park as kids and Jay helps nick across the balance beams and Matt pushes them on the swings. in another universe they walk to school every day talking and chatting and laughing. They may not be amde of the same star but fuck they're made of the same stuff

come ask me questions so I can infodump about my OC!! [pls]

#mouse has pals #kat nip #oc: jay orton #brotp: tell me about the birds? [Jay and Nick]

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damayantia · 10 months

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welcome DAMAYANTI ‘DAMIATA’ SIVASANKAR. you hail from VIJAYANAGARA and have been risen to the position of a COURTESAN. you are a member of the house of COLONNA and will go down in history as the MUSE. though you are CONDESCENDING & CALLOUS, you are blessed with being BEGUILING and DISCERNING.

links. character study / playlist / pinterest / threads

━━ BASIC INFO.

NAME: damayanti sivasankar NICKNAME: damiata, dami AGE: thirty-eight PLACE OF BIRTH: vijayanagara IMPERIUM: rome GENDER: cisgender woman PRONOUNS: she/her ORIENTATION: bisexual RELIGION: shaivism PARENTS: sivasankar vikramaditya & bhima devi SIBLINGS one brother LANGUAGES: tamil, telugu, kannada, portuguese, latin ( fluent ) urdu, italian, french, arabic ( conversational ) english, mandarin ( learning ) spanish ( reliant on intelligibility from the other romance languages ) sanskrit, hindi ( childhood’s forgotten tongues ) EDUCATION: private tutoring TITLE: courtesan INTERESTS: martial arts, poetry, natural philosophy, fine art HOBBIES: swordplay, archery, hunting, singing LABEL the muse

━━ PERSONALITY.

mbti. entp-a enneagram. 3w2, the enchanter instinct. sx/so character inspo. helen, the iliad / daenerys targaryen, a song of ice and fire / kaeya, genshin impact / dazai osamu, bungou stray dogs / serval, honkai: star rail

beguiling, discerning, mellifluous, determined

condescending, callous, ruthless, deceptive

━━ SNAPSHOT.

character study TBD

known most everywhere through her perhaps-scandalous links with the de facto ruler of rome, damayanti — also known as damiata — is a figure who confounds understanding: a non-believer reigning as the queen of beauty in the eternal city, whose visage has been writ by many a roman artist in their canvas. she is charming and witty, yet all her intelligence seems to be geared towards ensuring immortality of her fair form. she plays at expectations and makes the crowd part of her — not make herself part of the crowd, which is a very subtle yet important distinction. she could revel with the drunkards at the taverns yet converse ever so delightfully with the bluebloods in their chateaus and fortifications. in short: a woman of any occasion, or perhaps a woman of many masks.

in truth, her reservation about her past is less a thing cultivated to incite curiosity and more just a natural reaction to the plight that her family experienced when she was young, fleeing another country simply because they gambled wrongly. she is perceptive yet deceptive but also endlessly indecisive: she charms people to know their secrets, yet does almost next-to-nothing with them, preferring to keep it to herself to the point of seeming fruitlessness. what’s important to her, however, is that she knows others yet others don’t know her: a guardedness borne from exile.

━━ TIMELINE.

1392. a son is born to bhima devi and sivasankar, the former a renowned poetess and the latter a court adviser in the employ of emperor harihara ii of vijayanagara.

1394. damayanti is born to sivasankar and bhima devi. in the same year, a portuguese merchant settles in vijayanagara. he is quickly contracted under the sivasankar household as a languages tutor for the children. damayanti is educated alongside her brother.

1405. the death of harihara ii paves the way for virupaksha raya’s accession to the royal throne of vijayanagara. however, with the succession disputed by his other brothers, his reign is short-lived. virupaksha is eventually murdered by his sons. having been in the employ of the murdered king, the sivasankar family looks as if they might share their lord’s fate. however, their tutor arranges passage for them alongside him back to portugal.

1406. having arrived in portugal, the sivasankar household experiences a difficult start in establishing themselves. they sell off their treasured possessions — whatever few they can smuggle with their escape — and begin attempts for a burgeoning mercantile trade, specialising in goods exported from the east.

1413. with the family having found its footing after many long years, damayanti takes after her erstwhile tutor and takes up travelling.

142?. eventually, she settles in italy.

1432. she arrives at the court of king charles of france as julius’ courtesan.

━━ PLOTS.

mercantile links through her family’s trading empire, courts she may have visited in her travels, husbands whose wives she’s slept with, wives who she’s seduced, artists and poets and other creatives she enamoured, philosophers she discoursed with, a person she might have unwittingly insulted, people she’s outraged over her ‘artist’s passions,’ etc.

#❛ DAMIATA ╱ search the heavens for power ✹ INFO #fw.intro #fwintro #idk which tag to use sorry KLSHDF #quote is from bhagavad gita !!

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reginrokkr · 1 year

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𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐕. Origins lost to time of a celestial being: Hesperus, bringer of light.

It is said that seraphs stand the closest to the Creator in the hierarchy of angels and these, known as the Shining Shades created in the image of the One were four. These may also be known as luminaries, which are also four and are emanations of the Supreme Entity. Together alongside the individual the four of them create are passed through history as the Five Saints.

Among these four, one of them —Hesperus— descended to the moonlight kingdom nearby the realm of night with the intention to save these people from the clutches of night's darkness and bring them to the other side of the moon. Hesperus, known as the evening star but also known as a light bringer possessed a solar aura that made him akin to the sun made flesh and bone, the Light Prince. Alas, before he could do his bidding he suffered betrayal from the pygmies and was left in a death-like stance by the Night Mother, a stance that is reversible if the adequate individual comes to save him.

This has occurred before the invaders came and their dark poison caused plagues and arose delusions left and right, before they warred against the Seelies and the Four remaining Saints alike. Hesperus, with the remaining strength he had, he transmigrated his soul to a newborn of the heavens from a different era, believing that his siblings and his Creator would continue dwelling the kingdom of the skies only to realize that the heavens have become demonic.

This newborn is the prophesized by the Night Mother whom would put a stop to her reign and that would be the only contender she would fear, taking advantage of this fact so that this newborn one day would save him too— which is the only speck of hope he had in an era where the Saints no longer existed and were erased from history.

Though the spirit of Hesperus remains dormant within the prophesized prince of the heavens —Dáinsleif—, during his childhood he had dreams which in truth were glimpses of memories of the Shining Shade that represents logos and whom brought light via thoughts put to words. These dreams are the precursor of curiosity satiated via Irminsul that gave him limited wisdom at the time— wisdom that he was not meant to know in the eyes of the higher entities of Celestia.

It is thanks to Hesperus' spirit that Dáinsleif was born with a solar aura, though those who believe that it is the only light that stems from him are wrong. The solar aura merely opaques the inner light he possesses, only noticeable when the solar and later on lunar aura wear off byproduct of the curse and corruption and passage of time.

Hesperus has another name only unique because he never became a fallen angel, as the heavens had yet to become demonic at the time he was put in a death-like stance. Reason why he lacks a name within the Ars Goetia, but a name from the Shem HaMephorash which collides with the former: Haziel is his alternate name, angel of secrets and mysteries.

Though in essence Dáinsleif is no angel —these stopped existing altogether with the coming of the demonic skies, the fall of the Saints and the true angels: the Seelies—, he is a celestial being whose level of reality was heightened by Hesperus' spirit within him and Irminsul's connection. As his memories were erased by Celestia upon his descent to Khaenri'ah, he has no knowledge over the fact that he's a celestial being, even less about the presence of a divine spirit within him.

However, there is the sentience and acknowledgement that he is no ordinary human in view that the modifications done to Irminsul's data and thus the world's memories do not affect him. The most evident clue remains within his Realm of Consciousness: where his voice has the might of a seraph and his appearance changes slightly. His platinum blond hair, turning whiter as the corruption and the curse advance as well as whenever he performs a purification, is completely white as a signal of the multifactorial weathering of his soul, but also as per his connection to Irminsul. A celestial blue sheen bathes his hair and his sclera becomes the color of his irises while his irises invert to white, the Star of Bethlehem-shaped pupils remain icy sapphire as they are originally, thus giving him an ethereal appearance.

#◟༺✦༻◞ glimpses in the past of a shattered spirit ┊headcanon.┊#I had a big brained moment while typing this #since considering that Hesperus is the evening star #which coincides with the blue hours of twilight and dawn #and the relation to the title of Twilight Sword #considering how many Khaenri'ahns were /obssessed/#with the history of the past #it'd be actually curious if they were on to something #and giving Dain the title of Twilight Sword #is like a threat of /we know/#except Dain would only have a strange feeling at most #which would be Hesperus stirring actually #since his memories were wiped #but Hesperus is there like 'holla what are these guys about'#don't look at me #I've just come to adore this piece of lore #from my personal portrayal of Dain #even though I've been so shy about it #and even though I muted it quite badly to only descriptors #except for interactions with a friend #there is also the detail #about how Haziel confronts Paimon lmao #since every demonic name of the Ars Goetia is confronted #by an angelic name of the Shem HaMephorash #this was unintentional #but the nod to the companion parallels #between the Traveler and the Abyss Twin #is chef's kiss #anyways I'll shut up now djfhjg

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july-19th-club · 2 years

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Recap for Roswell: New Mexico S2E10: “American Woman”: tsela vie

4/5 ⭐s

In “American Woman” we meet two more characters who have been oft mentioned but never seen, though only one of them turns out to (so far) not be involved in one of the many conspiracies or secret-keeping situations that envelop anyone who has ever lived, or known someone who has lived, in Roswell, ever, at any time. One of these people is Diego, the fiance Liz ghosted after a project they were working on got de-funded and she abruptly realized she only liked him when they were working together, panic-fled to her dad’s house, and started the plot of the show.

The second is the third Manes sibling, Gregory, who is as lean as his brothers are baby-faced and, from what we see of him, significantly better-adjusted than either of them. They have a cordially estranged relationship (when the gang arrives, Alex sets about awkwardly introducing his friends until Gregory reminds him that they all went to the same high school). While Alex and Flint stayed more in their dad’s orbit well into adulthood, Gregory has distanced himself in what seems like a pretty healthy way. He now lives on a Diné rez where the boys’ mother grew up, and to which the gang has road tripped to track down more alien family history.

It’s a relief to me that there are only two major plotlines in this episode - we’ve had a lot of ones recently where the action was scattered across six separate people doing six very different things, which both made the recaps really long and made the action feel crowded. Here, things are more self-contained, and aside from a few instances of weird dialogue, it’s a strong 4-star ep.

The road trip plot, which begins with a lot of fun Isobel bits and a general sense of excitement - we’re on our way! to learn about ourselves and share a car for hours! - becomes sober as soon as the actual learning about themselves starts to happen. Gregory has been briefed on the parts of the alien backstory that can be reasonably told to him without revealing the alienness, so he shows the siblings around town - first to Louise’s gravesite, then to visit an old man who knew her personally. There’s a little gravestone indicating a child, but that’s only half the story - because the child survived, and was adopted.

Some of the flowers at Louise’s gravesite are the hard-to-come-by blue ones whose pollen can be used to dampen alien abilities. Of course Michael secretes some (assuming, I imagine, that he won’t have to levitate anything until he can take them out of his pocket). Hmm...little star-shaped flowers...ground stars? Like it fucking says on Maria’s preserved-flower necklace? It takes the characters far longer than you’d think to put this bit together. I can now say my theory about the DeLuca family was 100% correct. Louise, who survived the shootout, was ferried by Tripp to safety and later had a baby girl, Patricia (who would be Roy’s daughter). Patricia grows up, has a baby girl Mimi, who of course grows up to have our very own Maria. With only one alien in her family tree, Maria doesn’t flag medically as extraterrestrial, but there’s enough of Louise in her for a little bit of power. Her great-grandmother couldn’t have known how alien abilities would manifest in a human child, or alter that child’s brain. And we still don’t know why Patty was listed as having been involved in a Caulfield experiment - it’s possible that was just a coverup in order to disguise an even more dangerous truth.

So our road trippers head home, marinating on what they’ve learned today. While the pod squad think about the past, Alex is encouraged to think about the future. There is a particular kind of stagnating hope that you learn as an adult child of an unstable or abusive parent if you haven’t completely put that parent out of your life. They have less power over you than when you were a child, so you’re able to grant them the benefit of the doubt sometimes, and maybe even try to see them as someone who can be vaguely redeemed. This is the position Alex is in. It’s a shuffle anyone with a similar upbringing will recognize intimately: really, Dad’s been a lot better lately, I mean, he sucked, no doubt about it, but he’s better than he was. Gregory illustrates the other way of coping with the dissonance: If you want to forgive him, go for it, he says, I’ll hate him for you. Neither way is right or wrong - they’re both just responses, that can be healthy or unhealthy depending on the individual. When they manage to push past that Manes machismo for a second and have a fucking hug, it feels like they both really needed it.

Relatedly, given that we’re visiting a place with strong personal meaning for Alex, I guess I went in expecting more; knowing Jesse he can’t have been the most respectful partner for an indigenous woman, which seems like one out of many good reasons to divorce the man. But what are the boys’ relationships to this side of their family? It looks like Gregory’s the only one for whom it is a part of his daily life, but how does Alex fit it in, if at all? Did it have an impact on the fact that he specialized in codebreaking and encryption in the military? Does he speak much Navajo? Does it occupy the same comfortable-but-not-comfortable mental space as his gayness, or is it more of a positive or a negative or is he simply estranged from it? What about his gung-ho brother Flint? I know I just said that one of this episode’s strengths was the decision not to spread the focus too thin, so I guess what I’m saying is, it’s something I hope gets explored in the future, because to give it more weight in this episode would’ve meant moving Liz’s plot to avoid overcrowding.

And Liz’s plot is even more sober than the road trip: she’s at the hospital taking her dad to his bloodwork and visiting Jenna, and ICE starts raiding the building. Despite the blatant illegality of ‘detaining people waiting for medical procedures,’ they start hauling people in, including Arturo. From there it’s a cumulative twenty minutes of screentime and several agonizing hours of plot time, Liz alternately panicking and steamrolling in her attempts to be heard, and getting roundly dismissed by people who don’t care that her dad has been a mild-mannered restaurateur for the past thirty years, or that she’s literally got his green card application docs in her purse, or that he doesn’t have his meds. If all this sounds lesson-y or pointed, it’s not. Sometimes even a soapy show needs to spend time in real life, and real life’s terrors. The ICE scare in “American Woman” is the mild, optimistic version of how this stuff works, because Jenna is there and supportive and helpful and uses her whiteness to grease wheels, and the ex-fiance shows up and has strings he can pull, and Arturo’s able to get home that same day, and he doesn’t spend the rest of the show in a concrete cell with a foil blanket and fifty other sardined-in people, or dying of treatable illness in custody. It occurs to me at some point in these proceedings that Michelle, for all the dismissive and rude things she’s said about the Ortechos over the years, absolutely knew their immigration status and never once considered reporting them.

Just as I appreciated the slower pace, it also pays off to have most of this episode’s content be as grounded and realistic as it is terrifying or saddening. We’re gearing up for the last leg of the season here, and we’ll be in for intense, fantastical plots then; it’s smart to get our commentary on adult adoptees and childhood abuse and human rights in a quiet place where the audience will be able to appreciate it, rather than squeezed in between power battles and government kidnapping schemes.

And the consequences of today’s two main plots do not leave us ripe for easy resolution. With Diego back in her life, and feeling like she owes him, Liz’s easy relationship with Max seems all too likely to be complicated by the realities of having a past. The stresses of not having a past are wearing away at Max’s new leaf, and he’s angsty and snappish and says he feels completely alone, which there’s no right way for Liz to take. They make up, this time, though, and Max’s jealousy towards Diego reads so admirable that I wish Isobel and Michael were here to needle him into admitting the tiniest sliver of bisexuality.

And down in the junkyard lab, Michael and Alex have one of their heated little argumentative discussions, because (as I’ve come to consider it) they are simply too fundamentally good at challenging one another. Sometimes this is healthy, and useful - sometimes they just frustrate each other. Today, it’s the latter. Alex’s occasionally savvy investigative juices are flowing, and he wants to see what his dad would do if presented with the alien artifact. Maybe he would lead them to more artifacts - maybe even some of Nora’s work - but as Gregory reminded us, he’s been erring badly on the side of not enough caution about Jesse lately. And no matter how Michael points this out, Alex just reads it as the usual pod squad skittishness, and keeps pushing. He pushes them right into an unwinnable argument at the very root of the distrust and fear and isolation they’ve been living in all their lives, pushes hard enough to get himself pushed right back out the door...and into the waiting arms of an unseen assailant.

At this point, one thing, to me, became clear: Alex was never meant to ‘go talk to recruits;’ as came up several times in conversation earlier in the episode, to the point where it stopped being background dialogue and became part of the viewer’s pool of potentially relevant stuff. In this case, ‘relevant’ means ‘a fiction that he probably never even questioned’ — and one that gives his captors several days before anyone will think to worry.

LITTLE STARS ON THE GROUND

Isobel styling her hair in the milkmaid-type braid we see Louise wear a lot in the flashbacks is really a lot, for me, personally, especially since I don’t know if you can clearly see her hairstyle in the one photo they have. The idea of her doing it on accident just busts me up somehow

Forrest, still constantly squinting in what I think he thinks is a sexy way, asks Michael if Izzy is his girlfriend. “EW?!” “Gross.” “Is that how I present?” Another mark in his disfavor if you ask me

Michael spends much of the early episode attempting to be the buffer zone between Maria and Isobel’s sniping, and then everything gets both deadly serious and much, much funnier when it becomes clear that Izzy is Maria’s....maternal great-aunt? Something like that, anyway.

One thing thing that confused me: in the first-season episode “Songs About Texas,” the gang meets a fake faith healer whose mom has some stories about a nonverbal woman who lived on a reservation and whose abilities the faith healer has created a mockup of for her act. I assume now that she was talking about Louise, but I didn’t get the impression that the characters have at all made this connection.

Harry mentions noticing how Tripp has changed as a person, and Tripp expresses a sentiment Alex echoes at the end of the first season: a gradual disgust with calling oneself a good person while continuing to obey directives without question. We’re slowly getting a picture of a man who spent much of his life echoing the party line while privately working entirely against it. Within the framework of his worldview, which was undoubtedly very different from his dissenting descendant, he still attempted to form his own understanding of right and wrong.

Trying to suss out the road trip setup: looks like Max is driving (though it’s Izzy’s car), Alex is navigating (because, although he is the smallest of the guys, he’s the one who knows where they’re going so can’t sit in the back), and Michael is crammed in with the Isobel-versus-Maria show (an attempt to keep order, but being too gangly to sit in the middle, doomed to fail). Five-to-six-person trips in minivan or hatchback-sized cars is always a recipe for bitching, no matter how much you all like each other.

If we wanna talk lines of the episode, they go to Jeanine Mason, as the greatest fear of Liz’s life, one which she says she’s built her life around, finally hits her.

Michael’s very awkward way of expressing to Isobel that, if she ever did want to have a kid and human procreation wasn’t an option, he would, as a non-biologically-related member of her own species, happily donate toward that goal and how genuinely touched Izzy is. Neither of them are thinking about re-populating their dying alien race, just about the fact that they might want to be parents. It’s honestly quite sweet, if a bit weird.

#the hardest part of these recaps is coming up with good puns for the subtitles and the little bottom bulletpoint things #but i think ive done myself well this time #roswell nm

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jesse-eisenberg-interview · 13 years

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Some Actors Work Both Sides of a Script

Jesse Eisenberg and Zoe Kazan

Credit...Robert Wright for The New York Times

By Jason Zinoman

Sept. 23, 2011

AT the end of a 90-minute conversation Jesse Eisenberg announced that what he really would like to do is write a musical. To which Zoe Kazan responded, “That’s the most impressive thing you’ve said this whole time.” Mr. Eisenberg answered back by listing other comments he had made. “Musical theater totally trumps that,” she retorted.

Ms. Kazan, 28, and Mr. Eisenberg, who will be 28 next month, trade barbs in a way that only people who run in the same circles would. These actors have known each other for years. They are both slightly built New Yorkers known for intelligent performances dramatizing eccentric anxiety. Mr. Eisenberg is more famous because of blockbuster movies like “The Social Network,” but Ms. Kazan has more experience onstage, starring most recently in the revival of “Angels in America.” But they both give the impression that they are younger than they are, of being indie even when acting in Hollywood or on Broadway. Now they have something else in common: They have each written a play that has a debut next month.

Ms. Kazan’s “We Live Here,” a dysfunctional-family drama set before a wedding, opens at Manhattan Theater Club on Oct. 12, the same day that Mr. Eisenberg’s “Asuncion” begins previews at the Cherry Lane Theater. Mr. Eisenberg stars in his comedy, a Rattlestick Playwrights Theater production, as a naïve blogger whose ideals clash with his life experience. On a recent morning they chatted with Jason Zinoman over coffee. These are excerpts from the conversation.

Q. It’s a cliché for actors to say, “I want to direct,” but less often do I hear them say, “I want to write a play.” Why did you do it?

ZOE KAZAN I always wrote. My parents are writers. It just seemed like something people did. I took a writing class in college, liked it, and my first year out of school I couldn’t get a job, so I wrote a play. I never wanted to be a playwright. I just didn’t say no to any of my interests. I don’t have any hobbies.

JESSE EISENBERG People ask me what my hobbies are in interviews, and I always say biking. But all I bike for is to get to rehearsal more quickly. I have no hobbies either.

KAZAN Way to go. I bet you and I would make fascinating dinner companions.

EISENBERG Pure narcissism. We could have separate dinners alone.

KAZAN I am my own wife.

Q. Jesse, tell me about your play.

EISENBERG It’s about a writer obsessed with big issues but who doesn’t do anything about them. I do what I like to do, explore parts of myself that I am embarrassed by. I grew up in an apolitical household. I never left the country. When I became an adult, I started traveling and became interested in politics, and I probably talked about things in a silly, ignorant way. So I explored this in myself and exaggerated it for comedic effect.

Q. How exaggerated is it? One of the main characters, the one played by you, gets mugged and then sympathizes with his attackers.

EISENBERG I was mugged one night in New York and slammed into a concrete pillar, and I did an interview where I said I completely understand why they attacked me. It was a poor, black neighborhood. Someone sent me an article saying: “You ignorant idiot. It’s more offensive to defend these people. It’s more racist to defend them.” He’s right, and that is the impetus for the first scene.

Q. Jesse’s play deals with a relationship between brothers, while yours is about an equally fraught sibling relationship.

KAZAN I have a sister who I am close to. I was interested in the idea of the sister relationship in general. I wrote a first draft in fall of 2009. MTC commissioned it, and they gave me some money. When I was acting in “A Behanding [in Spokane],” I was going in five hours early and working on it there.

Q. Did Martin McDonagh [the author of “Behanding’] give feedback?

KAZAN He read it.

EISENBERG [Imitating Mr. McDonagh] How come no one gets his head sawed off in this?

KAZAN You don’t know, Jesse, you haven’t read it.

EISENBERG Listen, I read the play, but I think you left out a page where someone gets his tongue cut out and stapled to his eye.

KAZAN I guess I don’t really seek notes from a broad range of people. It’s more like we were becoming friends, and I was going early and he was like: What are you doing?

Q. Jesse, who do you give work to?

EISENBERG If I think my play is bad, I’ll send it to my mother because she only gives me compliments. If I think it’s good, jeez, I don’t know. My mom calls me every 16 minutes, and she says: “That’s great sweetie. You’re my favorite child out of the three of you. Why are you not president?”

Q. Zoe, you grew up with two screenwriters as parents.

KAZAN My parents will sit down at the dining-room table and give notes on each other’s scripts. It’s the worst thing in the world. It’s like the house is burning down. It’s awful for my sister and me.

EISENBERG You should give your script to my mother. She would be real encouraging.

KAZAN I would love that. Then maybe I would be her favorite child.

Q. Which is the biggest challenge for you as a writer: character, plot or language?

EISENBERG Aspects of each. It’s a cop-out of an answer. At each point I come to a problem with a plot point or character, it seems insurmountable. Or is it unsurmountable? Not to be surmounted? So language is my answer.

KAZAN I think action should be revealed through character, so if you have a plot problem, it’s probably a character problem. It’s fun and easy to write language, but there were things I loved that I had to get rid of because they are no longer carrying their weight.

Q. Does the fact you are actors have any impact on the amount of trust you have that your cast will find the right subtext in your lines?

KAZAN My rewriting process has been a lot about taking away the explicit and letting the subtext speak for itself. Sam [Gold, who is directing the play] is pushing me to be brave in pursuit of that. I think it’s hard for an actor.

Q. One thing that struck me about both your plays is that in an age when plays are becoming more cinematic in structure, yours are not.

KAZAN We both work in film, so if we are going to write a play, why not write a play?

EISENBERG There’s something strange about theater. My characters consistently demonize elitism, but of course it’s taking place in a theater where only so many people can see it. I’ve been in silly popcorn movies — the kind of thing that as an actor you might feel embarrassed about — but those movies reach many more people. In a play you’re basically performing for rich people.

Q. Broadway was once the ultimate in success for a young dramatist. How do you think of it now?

KAZAN Broadway is different now than in our parents’ generation. The number of straight plays opening there now is so small compared to the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s. I see many more plays Off Broadway by dint of ticket price and what’s being produced. If it costs more, it has to reach a larger audience. That’s why there aren’t more risky plays on Broadway.

EISENBERG I don’t consider Broadway for us — as theatergoers. I never even consider going there to see something.

KAZAN I want to see “Book of Mormon,” but for $400? Look, [turning to Mr. Eisenberg] for 60 bucks, 65 bucks I can see your play, right?

EISENBERG $75, actually. Listen I know someone who can get you in.

KAZAN $75? I’m not going to see your play.

EISENBERG Hey, I was in a zombie movie.

Q. Zoe, you also wrote a movie called “He Loves Me” that is supposed to come out next year. What is it about?

KAZAN It’s a magic realist romantic comedy. Paul [Dano, who is her boyfriend] plays a Jonathan Safran Foer-type writer who has writer’s block. He has one big novel and can’t follow it up. He starts to dream about this girl and then magical high jinks ensue. But it’s rooted in reality and comes from my experience. I was in relationships in my late teens with much older men and always felt like a piece of clay. But when I got older, I wasn’t so fluid as a person anymore. My relationships got better but harder. I wanted to write about that.

Q. Jesse, you just finished shooting a Woody Allen movie currently titled “The Bop Decameron.” Why do actors always adopt his mannerisms when starring in his films? Is it because his humor is so influential or is it in the cadences of the lines?

EISENBERG Those two plus a third reason, which is that after each take, he’s giving you notes and his voice is so iconic and funny and specific. Its impossible not to [imitate it]. You also want to indulge fully in being in a Woody Allen movie. He would say, “Don’t be hamstrung by dialogue and say whatever you want.” And I just end up making his jokes. At one point I realized after I did a scene that I made a joke from “Manhattan.”

KAZAN Steal from the best, man.

EISENBERG Just not in front of him. Go down the block first.

SOURCE

#2011 #jesse eisenberg #zoe kazan

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activatebutterflyshield · 13 days

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Let Us Trip the Light Fantastic

Guess who’s back on their writing nonsense mates! Actually thinking about the designs of characters and what they might be like as people was enough of a kick in the arse of my motivation to get me to actually return to one of my… twenty plus abandoned work-in-progresses. Not counting the fan fiction. But it’s a start! So, be the sun moon and the stars (since it’s nighttime) as my witnesses, let it be known that this writer is actually writing again.

This story is an idea I’ve had for some time, as it sprouted during my “take a random common but kind of old timey saying and turn it into a story” phase. Other notable victims include In for a Penny, In for a Pound, Hell Hath No Fury, Enemy of My Enemy, and A Feather in My Cap. Out of these siblings, I’d always thought that Let Us Trip the Light Fantastic had the most potential, and I think I’ve proven past-me-from-three-months-ago right. So here’s the first chapter(?), section(?), perspective(?), or (insert synonym for section in a longer work of writing here), whatever you want to call it.

1: Three Irish Coffees and Several Jammie Dodgers

It was miserable, stormy, and unseasonably cold that night in Cardiff, and Natasha was looking for a plus-one. The rain dashed through the biting air at the perfect angle to run itself into her coat, as well as dodging her glasses to hit her in the eyes. Fellow pedestrians were few and far between, as everyone in sight was either running for the nearest pub or store, or leaping feet-first into cars whose headlights sputtered weakly against the descending storm. Wiping away the moisture from her eyes and blessing her previous decision not to wear makeup, the wind-battered woman stumbled to a stop in front of the familiarly pale facade of the Chatter & Melody Society, Cardiff Branch. Though the placard in the window said “Closed”, an upstairs light was on, and she could just make out the straining notes of a long-suffering piano from inside. Squaring her shoulders inside her thoroughly soaked overcoat, Natasha trudged up to the front door, made a sharp right, trudged a bit more, made a sharp left, and knocked on the window in the shave-and-a-haircut style.

The lamenting piano faltered slightly, seemingly baffled at the thought that it might have an audience, before picking back up in a much more jaunty manner. Somewhere within, old floorboards creaked and moaned, and a light woke up in the downstairs room. Slowly, the knocks were returned. Five-bobs. The piano shifted into a new tune, and Natasha barely recognised it through the driving rain.

Are you sleeping, are you sleeping…

Hesitantly, she began to knock the responding rhythm back, shifting her movements up and down to mimic the notes on a staff.

Bro-ther-John, Bro-ther-John?

The notes responded.

Morning bells are ringing, morning bells are ringing…

And so did she.

Ding-ding-dong, ding-ding-dong

After the final knock, the piano played a contented chord, and the clattering slides of locks sounded from the front door. Turning around, Natasha watched as warm light cut out into the dreary night, and the person she was least hoping to see poked their head out of the doorway. With a sigh, the redheaded Londoner waved her in.

“Even I can’t stand to see you standing there all sopping wet like a barn cat dropped in a pond. Come on in. Perry’s got tea on somewhere.”

Once she was inside and marginally less waterlogged, Ernest carefully guided the rather damp Natasha through the expected bric-a-brac that all places inhabited by Society members seemed to hoard. The record-keeper gently knocked a framed poster for the Cardinal of the Kremlin with his tail off the slight tilt it had assumed, and brushed away some of the dust on the face of a numberless clock as he walked from the reception room to the staircase. As the light danced over his fiery hair, she could tell that he was forcing the soft behavior. The reflection of his magic in the air was twitching and darting, nervous like an animal faced with an unfamiliar scent in a familiar place.

The Londoner suddenly paused, and flicked his ears. “Whatever it is, is it urgent?”

Natasha involuntary rustled her tail beneath her skirt. “Not particularly pressing. But it is important enough that I came here instead of the Council embassy.”

A gentle laugh, like heather rustling on a moor. “In this storm, I’d not go out unless a Wanderer was with me. Come on. Everyone who’s still here is waiting.”

Before he’d even finished speaking, the piano sprang to life above them with a gentle cantering melody. Ernest looked up and smiled without teeth past a number of wind chimes and nonfunctioning ceiling fans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way.”

A corner of the diplomat’s mouth ticked up as they climbed the wheezing stairs together. “You finally learned Birdsong, then?”

“Kinda. More like a pidgin-tune than any proper Song. Still, it’s an improvement.” The conversation seemed to calm Ernest, as his hooves were clacking less loudly. “Perry’s still teaching me, even after his promotion and the recent influx of Architect work.”

“Still surprised you didn’t learn it sooner.”

“Foxtongue was more than enough for me before.” Brushing aside a kitschy beaded curtain, Ernest knocked on the wall as he entered the second floor, calling out, “It’s nothing immediately dangerous.”

Perry, perched on a barstool and siping at what looked like an Irish coffee, sighed with relief. “Good. I’m incapacitated enough that operating heavy machinery or attempting anything that requires any degree of finesse would probably injure me.”

From the neighbouring stool, an unfamiliar man with skin as dark as cast iron and who smelled of woodsmoke groaned half-heartedly. “What is with your gallows humor every time you get drunk, mate?”

Natasha snorted. “He’s been like that since I lived in London. Surprised you haven’t lost a limb yet, Peregrine.”

The architect just laughed his tinkling laugh and set down his drink before hoisting himself off the stool and wandering over to shake hands. “And I’m surprised you’re still alive after weathering that storm. Did it feel natural?”

“Mostly. About as cold as hell is hot, but normal. Apologies,” she turned to the man of woodsmoke, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

He smiled, a smile of long days and hard work and hidden steel. “Hayward Coppersmith. Society, London Branch. And you are?”

“Natasha Liu. Council, Cardiff Embassy. It is good to meet you.” They shook hands. “Industry?”

The smile widened, a full and warm expression on his bearded face. “Is it that obvious?”

“Kinda. Unless you’re Flux? Or Duty?”

“We all have our secrets, Natasha. Contradiction, might I assume?”

“Perhaps.”

A new voice suddenly sounded from near the piano, soft and measured. “I mean no offence, but you have a reason to be here other than to small talk, am I right, diplomat?”

Natasha’s smile grew wider and more genuine. “Now that’s who I was hoping to see, not a trio of Londoners. No offence, of course. It’s been a while, Teria.”

The Cardiff Architect stepped out of the shadow of the piano, the slash of purple in her black hair reflecting starry magic in the cozy light. “Truer words have never been spoken, Tasha. Wherever have you been these last four months?”

The diplomat’s smile grew strained. “Perhaps over a drink. Who made you that coffee, Perry?”

Ernest spoke up. “I did. Second one tonight.”

She ambled over to one of the empty barstools, of which no two matched. “Got any more liquid courage?”

He smiled, and opened a cabinet to reveal a significant array of bottles. “Plenty. You sure you don’t want any, Hayward? Wisteria?”

“Maybe something weak.”

“Thanks but no thanks. Caffeine is my drug of choice.”

One old fashioned and several biscuits later, Natasha half heartedly thumped her tail against the side-table-turned-bar, sending a few bottles clinking. “Okay. I guess I should tell you folks why I came here in the first place.”

Perry belched, and swigged down the last of his third Irish coffee. Clicking his fingers a few times, the architect sent strokes of magic ricocheting around the room. As they flew, Natasha saw them grow into fledglings and settle about the clutter. He looked around a few times before nodding. “No-one else is listening now.”

Carefully reaching into a pocket in her skirt, she brought out an old-fashioned paper ticket, red ink on cream cardstock paper. “I got this little thing… in a way that is hard to describe. It’s a single ticket to the Red Dragon Social, some type of opera-slash-cocktail-slash-fancy-dinner-party thingie. Supposedly, the opera will be a recreation of the lost work *Dafne* by Jacopo Peri and Jacopo Corsi. I have to be the one to redeem it, but I can bring a plus-one. So, uh, if any of you guys have some black tie wear on hand, I’d owe the Society one if someone comes with me. It’s on the twelfth. I just though, uh, that you might be interested.”

Ernest looked at her in puzzlement. “Is there a reason why you came here and not the embassy, or the legion outpost? I mean, I’m pretty sure I know why you wouldn’t go to the outpost, but still.”

Natasha just sat in silence looking uncomfortable, and Hayward began tapping his chin. “Probably a promise. Or a NDA. But I’m leaning towards a promise.”

“Er… something like that. I’d really not like to say more, but feel free to speculate as much as you want.”

Wisteria began fidgeting with her halo as she spoke. “Well, we all know how the IPC is when something weird goes down under their watch. Court battles, reams of paperwork, all that bloody bureaucracy and such. Don’t get me wrong, mate, you do things right most of the time. But the Council’s slow. A lumbering beast that takes ages to wake up and show its fangs. It can still eat you, but not quickly. Legion’s the opposite. Fight first, ask questions later. And if a bunch of Sighted walk into a black tie opera-slash-cocktail-party and start swinging, we’re gonna have a debacle on our hands.”

Perry nodded. “Agreed, agreed. The Society’s the middle ground in this situation, then. More cautious than Legion, quicker on the draw than Council, and more discreet than League. So if just one of us were there, especially an out-of-towner, whoever’s putting on this soirée isn’t going to be super on guard.”

“Okay, but whoever goes can’t be too recognizeable,” Ernest interjected, “For example, I’m super noticeable. How many other red-haired, tan-skinned, calygreyhound-afflicted Chatter-folk are in Britain, let alone Wales? I’d like to voluntarily unvolunteer for the position of plus-one. No offence, Natasha, it’s just practicality.”

“None taken.” She popped another jammie dodger in her mouth, willing the slightly stale crunch to drown out her worry.

Hayward hummed agreement. “Sensible. I suppose that if we’re going with that logic, Wisteria shouldn’t go either. You’re rather well known for about fifty kilometres in any direction, mate.”

The legendary Mirror Sight Architect of Cardiff, her telescope halo hanging crooked off one side of her head, the stripe of purple in her hair refracting the light of the cosmos into the eyes of her colleagues and one very stressed out diplomat, gave the Londoner a deadpan look. “Y’think?”

Natasha couldn’t help but snort. “Pfffft… oh, well. I’ve got a week to find my plus-one, so no need to rush. Check your closets for black tie stuff, mates, and tell me whenever you’re ready. Now, is there a couch I might bargain for space on around here?”

Wisteria’s face shifted into a tired smile. “There’s a Murphy bed in Anisha’s office downstairs. She’s out on exchange in Paris, and the Expanse fellow we got rented a room a few blocks away. Feel free to take it.”

“Happily.”

#layered earth #chatter and melody #writblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #words from the society

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archonanqi · 3 years

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consequence / pt i

⛔️ Warning: This is an exploration of Zhongli’s manipulative tendencies that we see glimpses of in his archon and story quest. Absolutely no part of the relationship depicted here is healthy or consensual. Please proceed with caution.

🔖 [info] [next]

—

pt. i of iii

Looking back, you should have noticed that something was wrong the moment Zhongli had insisted on treating you and Aether to dinner.

You and Paimon tried to stop him, of course — far too many of his shopping sprees in the past had ended with the Millelith involved or your pockets emptied of Mora (usually both, really). Yet today, he’d produced a wallet lined with gleaming coins, and any protests died quickly on Paimon’s lips.

“Wow, that’s enough to buy—” she marvelled, staring as intently as though her gaze itself could start pocketing the Mora, “at least… TEN Golden Crabs from Wanmin Restaurant!”

Zhongli chuckled, the sound still sending pleasant shivers down your spine even after all the months you’d spent traveling with him. “A little more than that, Paimon, but a good guess nonetheless.” He turned his amber gaze to you and your brother, who had not strayed a foot away from you since the Abyss released its hold on him.

Aether had kept an easy smile on his face for the past few days, but you’d known him long enough to pick out the signs of guilt, despite your reiterated reassurances that what the Abyss did to him was not his fault. It would take a long time for him to feel alright again; and you’d be there for him for as long as it took.

“And as for you two?” Zhongli continued, “will Wanmin Restaurant be agreeable? Though of course, if you believe that such a momentous reunion demands something a little more extravagant, I’m sure that Xinyue Pavillion is still taking reservations—”

“No, that’s not—” you weren’t sure why you were hesitating. So what if he mysteriously found himself without enough Mora by the end of the meal, and you ended up having to foot the bill as usual? It stung a little to think about, but it wasn’t as though you’d have any need for Mora after tonight. “That’s not it. After everything you’ve done for us during our travels, I couldn’t possibly accept more from you, Zhongli.”

Couldn’t possibly bear sitting at a table with Zhongli, knowing that it’d be the last time you’d ever see him. This was why you’d always tried to leave each world with a clean cut. This was why, at the break of dawn, you and Aether would leave without telling anyone — not Jean, not Cyno, not Dainsleif, not Ajax. Not even Zhongli, with whom you’d spent the bulk of your past year.

“Oh, no,” Zhongli replied, brows arching upwards, “I’ve told you, have I not? The pleasure of our travels were mine to enjoy.”

“Er... well. I’m sure Aether is also tired and wants to rest,” you prompted, squeezing Aether’s hand. Aether nodded quickly — no matter the world, you’d always been able to count on him to pick up on your nuanced signals. Though he might not know why, he knew that you were uneasy with going to this dinner, and that was enough.

“Hmm,” Zhongli pondered this shortly, then turned to your brother. You’d seen that look of calculated determination on his face before, in front of basha stalls and souvenir stores across the continent. A look that meant Zhongli would get what he wanted. “I had rather been looking forward to getting to know the sibling of my favored travel companion. Are you certain? Wanmin Restaurant is quite the gem of Liyue Harbor, and I’m certain that the food here will be a fair few notches above what the Abyss Order has been able to offer you.”

There was a slight, amiable smile on his face, but bringing up the Abyss was a painfully low blow and you had no doubt that Zhongli, the lord of contracts and negotiations and everything in between, knew it. You watched in mute horror as the guilt and regret danced on Aether’s face, before he finally gathered it all back into an apologetic smile. “Of course, Mr. Zhongli. Far be it from me to refuse a dinner with the former Geo Archon himself, especially with all the trouble I’ve caused you...”

—

Even after traveling the seven nations, you’d never once stopped pining for the savory, hearty flavors of Liyue cuisine. The spice of the black-perch stew that Xiangling taught you to cook had kept you warm through many a Snezhnayan blizzard, after all. Basking in the familiar scent of Wanmin Restaurant with a stomach full of hot food, and watching Paimon devour skewers of meat five at a time, you began to feel much better.

The anger you’d felt at Zhongli’s manipulation of your brother had also since faded into contentment. After all, negotiation, you found, came as naturally to Zhongli as breathing; he had likely meant nothing by it.

Maybe it was okay that you spent just one more night with Zhongli. Maybe it would turn out to be the closure you need.

You glanced at the man in question; he was teaching Aether how to use chopsticks, of course, and you were grateful to see that the haunted look in Aether’s eyes had given way to exasperation for now. By the time your brother had snapped his third pair of wooden ones, he was smiling and Paimon was just about rolling around on the ground in glee. As you stifled your own laughter, Zhongli set two small bottles of wine on the table.

You tried not to let yourself think about how the string lights of Chi’hu Rock glinted like stars in his eyes.

“What’s this?” You joked, referencing Zhongli’s anger from the one time he’d seen Venti get you drunk. “Are we all to become disgraces to the arts tonight?”

Zhongli’s lip curled into a small smile. You couldn’t remember when his smiles had started coming more and more frequently, but you’d learned to savor each one. “Ordinarily, I would not condone such strong drink, but today is the most special of occasions, no?”

As you watched, a goblet began to form between his fingers, golden, black and resplendent. You’d seen similar ones before, buried deep within the Domain of Guyun Stone Forest — an Archaic Petra Artifact, a Goblet of Chiseled Crag. According to Zhongli’s stories, the very same ones that he had created for the Seven to drink from in celebration, before all but two of them had vanished from this world.

The cruel irony was not lost on you.

“Besides, this is nothing like the watered down Mondstadt alcohol that that young bard partakes in,” Zhongli said, gloved fingers masterfully plucking the cork from the first bottle and pouring it into the goblets. “These two bottles contain the finest wu’liang’ye spirit that Liyue has to offer. They’ve been aged for well over decades with a technique passed down from the goddess Guizhong, whose mastery over grain and crop transcends even my own today.”

“We’re— flattered,” you bowed your head. The matter of Guizhong, the late Goddess of Dust and Zhongli’s good friend from when the Archon War still ravaged the land, was but one of the many things that you’d wanted to talk to him about. If only you had more time. “Thank you, Zhongli.”

He passed you the first goblet, then the second to Paimon. “Please, let’s forgo the formalities tonight. You are a dear friend to me, and so, by extension, is your family.” The second bottle was opened, its contents split between Zhongli and Aether. “Let us drink, to the happy reunion of loved ones, to the fruitful friendships you have forged in this world, and to all the triumphant adventures to be had still.”

The wince you hid was only partially from the burning drag of liquor sliding down your throat.

It had not escaped your notice that Zhongli had been staring at you all night — more intently than usual, and that was saying something.

“y/n, I think—“ he began, as you met his gaze. By the Archons, the way he said your name—

“ Paimon thinks there should be less talking, more drinking! Ganbei!” Paimon screeches, downing half her goblet and immediately falling down to the cobblestone road, spluttering and choking at the heat.

“This is… very strong, Mr. Zhongli,” Aether was the first to speak after. “Wonderful liquor. What gives it its mild bitterness?”

“Bitter?” You asked, letting the drink roll on your tongue, “where’s the bitterness? It tastes mostly sweet to me.”

Aether took another long drink, thoughtfully. “Definitely bitter. Here, try a sip?”

You took his goblet, but as you pressed it to your lips, you felt it begin to violently vibrate. Quickly, you pulled it away from your face just in time for it to shatter in your hand, gold and black shards falling to the floor as what little drink left in the goblet splattered across the table.

“Goodness,” Zhongli said, after your surprised yelp brought Paimon stumbling back to your side, her cheeks still stained scarlet from the liquor, “I must apologize. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had to construct something so small and intricate — I am out of practice, it seems.”

“Oh! That’s quite alright, I drank most of it already—“ Aether glanced over your shoulder, “by the Archons, Paimon has a knife!”

As you watched Chef Mao try to wrestle his knife back from a cackling, red-faced Paimon, you recalled the crystal hairpin Zhongli had forged two months ago — when you’d complained of the Natlan desert wind blowing your hair into your eyes. It had been just as intricate as the goblets, and much, much smaller. One of the few belongings you were planning on bringing with you.

You wondered what reason Zhongli had to lie.

—

“Maybe it was a good thing your goblet shattered,” you told Zhongli, prodding Aether with one of your chopsticks. He had stopped even groaning in response. And though Paimon was still conscious, she looked as though she would much rather not be, sitting forlornly on the table with her head in her hands. “Look at them. Drunk as skunks.”

“Maybe,” Zhongli replied, “though I did not expect these two to have such low tolerance to alcohol. It was a miscalculation on my part.”

“Paimon’s always like this —you know, remember that bar in Snezhnaya?— but Aether’s usually better at holding his drink,” you sighed. “I should probably get him back to Wangshu Inn.”

“Let him sober up a little here. It’s a long trek to the inn, and you don’t want him making a mess of his dinner on the way back.” Loathe as you were to admit it, Zhongli was right. It seemed that the fates were demanding that you spend a little more time with him, after all. He stood up, his tremendous height still a little startling to you.

“Will you walk with me for a little, y/n?”

It wasn’t fair, really, the way he said your name. “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “The harbor for a breath of fresh air perhaps, or Bubu Pharmacy to fetch a remedy for Aether. Does it matter to you, where we go?”

Going anywhere with him was a pleasure, one that against your better judgement, you yearned to partake in one more time. “No,” you admitted. “Let’s go.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve walked through Liyue — a year, almost. Do you remember? It was my birthday, and we walked for hours through the harbor.” Zhongli chuckled, the sound a deep rumble through your bones. “You wouldn’t let me buy dinner that time, either.”

The nights of Liyue, its rolling hills and monumental mountains, were a peace you’d never known before coming to Teyvat. The city was uncharacteristically quiet tonight, and by the time you got to Yujing Terrace, you realized that it was the emptiest you’d ever seen it. The usual evening crowd of kids out of school and elderly taking strolls were nowhere to be seen — not even the Millelith guards usually standing by the gate were there.

“ That time ,” you corrected, swallowing your unease at the silence of the city, “you didn’t have a single Mora to your name.” The strides you had to take to keep up with Zhongli’s long, long legs were huge, and you struggled to stay by his side. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that I wouldn’t have had to pay the entire bill if we’d actually gone to Wangshu Inn for dinner that night.”

You immediately regretted it when he turned his golden gaze upon you, and it took everything within you to not avert yours. “Perhaps that may have been the case,” Zhongli allowed, “though I would have returned your investment tenfold over the next week. Have I not proven as much throughout our travels?”

His vast knowledge of valuable gemstones and herbs — and more importantly, his uncanny ability to get any deal he set his mind to — had kept you and Paimon fed for many a week during your trek through the caves and jungles of Sumeru. You had to give him that. And that wasn’t not even counting the number of boulders, traps, swords and ravenous winter wolves that his shield had protected you from—

“Fine, I’ll admit, it was nice to have you around, you bourgeois parasite,” you said, playing on his joke back from when you’d first met. Then, after a brief silence, “Zhongli, in all seriousness, thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“I know that you’ve accompanied many adventurers on their journeys,” you explained, “but you — you dropped everything and journeyed with me, and you’ve done more for me than anyone else. I could never have found Aether without you.” Zhongli was being uncharacteristically quiet, and so you hurried along to fill the silence, “We— we made a great team together. And I will never forget everything that you’ve done for me. So, thank you.”

“A great team together...” he repeated, voice lower than a whisper. “y/n, this sounds like a farewell.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Even in silence, you were breaking the most important rule you’d learned throughout all your travels. Never let them know you’re leaving.

Zhongli turned to face you, and his full attention is a force that you had not yet learned to endure. So instead, you turned your attention to the koi darting about among the lotus reeds as he continued, “I’ve noticed that you’ve been more careless with your Mora lately. And as for your hard-earned weapons, artifacts, and resources, you have given them all to the Knights of Favonius, correct?”

“I gave some to the Millelith too,” you objected quietly.

“You know that is not what I meant,” Zhongli said. You did know. “Are you planning on leaving this world, y/n?”

“I have to,” you heard yourself say, “we don’t belong here.”

As though he heard the waver in your voice, the Lord of Contracts honed in on it like a Sumeran jaguar. “Do you remember the first Lantern Rite you partook in? Though you had just arrived in Liyue, and though the Millelith, Qixing and Adepti each gave you reason to distrust them, you still chose to spend the festival helping people.”

“I didn’t help that many—”

“Twenty-six people,” he corrected, and you cursed yourself for not thinking that he would remember. “A dozen more, if we are to count the young and elderly of Qingce, whose lives were brightened by the festivities you brought to the village. And hundreds above that, if we acknowledge every person in Liyue Harbor, whose Lantern Rite would have been ruined had you not stopped the thief who tried to steal the Mingxiao Lantern. Am I correct?”

“I did it for the compensation,” you retorted, determined not to let yourself think about the people you’d helped. Who would help them after you left?

“Hmm.” Zhongli rested his gloved fingers against his chin, and you could tell that he didn’t buy your bluff, not for a moment. “Anyone else, I may have believed. But you, y/n, who have begged me to stay my hand against fleeing Hilichurls? You, who could not bear to attack the Mitachurl that sits alone on Mount Tianheng and watches the harbor? You, who gave it a name ?”

“Okay,” you finally relented. “Okay, I like helping people, and I don’t want to go. But that doesn’t mean I can stay. It’s— it’s not good for Aether to stay here, after what this world has done to him.”

“With time, I believe your brother can adjust—”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Zhongli,” you begged, and the tone of your voice finally made him take notice. He regarded you for a moment, and you thought you saw his eyes glow bright.

“The last thing I wanted,” he sighed, reaching into his coat, “was for it to come to this.”

Your first reaction was to reach for your weapon — it wasn’t there; you’d given Festering Desire to dear little Bennett just before you’d left Mondstadt. Still, you felt the bright burn of shame when the only thing Zhongli pulled out was a piece of parchment, folded into a perfect square. How could you think that after everything, Zhongli would ever hurt you?

“Do you remember this contract of ours?” Zhongli asked as he carefully unfolded the paper, handing it to you. You stared down at the neat lines of calligraphy, punctuated by your name in your own handwriting.

Of course you remembered: the moment you had approached Zhongli at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, after your expedition into Havria’s domain. The day you’d asked him to join you on your travels.

“ Oh? A new contract? I'm still on leave, but I can accompany you for a while. ” Zhongli had mused, as though he hadn’t just sent butterflies soaring through your insides. “ What name should I use on the contract? I have a great many names, though when on leave... I tend to go by Zhongli. And you, Traveler? What name will you be signing on this contract— ?”

The following contract had been quickly printed in his swift brushstrokes — simple terms: he would lend his strength and knowledge to your endeavor of finding Aether, and you, in turn, would simply keep him in good company.

Even at the time, you’d wondered what was in it for Zhongli — the terms of the contract had seemed rather imbalanced, but in your euphoria at having gained Zhongli as your new travelling partner, you had not thought more on it.

—

The same terms stared back at you now, and you were quickly realizing what was going on.

For thousands of years, I have made countless contracts. If the deal was of no benefit, then I certainly would not be inclined to agree to it.

The day you discovered his identity, Zhongli had said this to you. He’d never signed a contract before that did not benefit him wholly; and you were a fool to think he would’ve made an exception for you.

“By keeping you in good company,” you said, numbly, “you don’t mean— forever ?”

“In the circumstances that the duration of a contract’s term is unspecified—” Zhongli held out his hand for the parchment. Briefly, you debated tearing it up and scattering it to the koi, but you knew well enough that it would not void the contract — one of the hundreds of thousands that Zhongli had undoubtedly seared into his memory. You handed it back to him silently. “Well, it would be fair to say that you are obliged to uphold it, until I personally release you from it, no?”

The first thing you felt was: fear, deep and chilling. You hadn’t truly believed that Zhongli would hurt you — until now. Until a contract had come into play. Until you realized you were poised to break one.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, but you’d known him long enough to know that he was. “I found my brother. I’m not from this world, and so I have to leave. I have to go home.”

“Has Teyvat not provided you enough of a home? You have made friends here, allies who would die for you in a heartbeat. And as for Liyue — Liyue will always be as much of your home as mine. You have your own room in Chi’hu Rock, you are on a first-name basis with the Qixing and the Adepti would spar with you as though you were one of their own—”

You could feel your resolve trembling, but it was not enough. You would not ask your brother to compromise his wellbeing in a world that had not been kind to him. “I’m sorry,” you said, and you understood fully what was coming. “I can’t stay.”

“After everything we have gone through, my friend, you would leave... me?” And there it was. In that moment, the former Archon — the oldest being in the world — looked so lonely that you almost broke down, almost apologized, almost reassured him that you would never once again put him through what he’d gone through far too many times: the loss of a friend.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “My family comes first. I can’t stay.”

Zhongli’s expression became unreadable. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, there was a peaceful silence that you savored. You had a feeling that it would be the last one you’d ever have in Liyue. The seconds crawled by, and briefly, you let yourself hope that Zhongli might relent, might make an exception for his close travel companion.

“Well then, my friend,” Zhongli finally said, holding out his right arm. Sparks of energy gathered in his palms, forming a wicked, golden spear. The Vortex Vanquisher. You’d seen it countless times, marveling each time at its beauty and strength. You never thought you would one day be staring down the end of it. “You must know what comes next.”

—

On your journey, you’d witnessed many a broken contract between Zhongli and other people — an Inazuman merchant whose greed for an extra trinket got the better of him; a Sumeran scholar who just needed to grab that last book from the hidden ruins; a Snezhnayan soldier whose loyalty to the Tsaritsa transcended his gratitude to you saving his life—

None of them had escaped unscathed. And each time, after delivering the punishment required of the situation, Zhongli would ask you the same thing, uncharacteristic frustration in his voice:

“ To get people to abide by a contract, and act in accordance with the guidelines set out within, is simply to ask them to respect the concept of fairness. It is not a large request. How are there those who still do not understand such simplicity? ”

Each time, after you’d cheered him on in his reckoning of justice, you would nod and agree sympathetically. None of their contracts, you thought, had been particularly difficult to uphold. And each time, you would thank the heavens that you had more sense than to break a promise between yourself and the God of Contracts.

It seemed that today, you were going to learn of what happened when you did.

You took a step backwards as Zhongli took a slow, calculated one towards you. Having closely watched him rain destruction down upon your foes for the past few months, you knew with certainty that you, lightheaded from the wind and the still exhausted from your fight with Aether, would not be able to keep up with his speed and technique.

And even if you weren’t, how could you even hope to compete with six thousand years of experience in war and strife and carnage? No; fighting him was not an option.

“Come on now, Zhongli,” you pleaded, taking another step and discovering, to your horror, that one more step backwards would have you falling into the koi ponds. You had nowhere else to go. “Aren’t we friends?”

Even as the words left your mouth, you knew that they would fall on uncaring ears. Friendship had never stayed the hand of the victor of the Archon war.

Zhongli took another lazy stride forward.

“Are we really going to fight in the city? We’ll destroy half the harbor.”

“While I appreciate your concern, I am quite confident that it will not come to that,” Zhongli said, the ‘because I would long have you pinned under my spear before then’ unspoken but tacit. “And besides, most of Liyue architecture is of stone. It would be nothing that I could not easily fix.”

Fair enough. You switched gears, praying that two millennia of walking amongst the mortals had given him some vestige of human empathy. “Please, I need to go back and check on Aether. What if he woke up and found himself alone? Who knows what Paimon’s done to him by now.”

“Aether,” Zhongli said, “will not wake up for another day or two.”

You pause, letting that register. “What?”

The first bottle: you and Paimon. The second bottle: Zhongli and Aether. You remembered how carefully Zhongli handed you the first goblet, though Liyuenese etiquette would have mandated that he pass the first drink to the guest at the table. The way the goblet had shattered suddenly rang clear in your mind’s eye. His lie. How adamantly Zhongli must have been trying to keep you from drinking from Aether’s cup—

“The herb I placed in his drink was but a very mild… sedative. He will almost certainly not die from it, but it can take mortals up to two days to regain consciousness.”

“ What ?” You could barely breathe. “You’re joking. You drank from the same bottle he did.”

“You need not concern yourself about me. My body has always been much more resistant to poisons than that of mortals.”

The rage made your throat tight; it had been a long, long time since you had been so angry. “Congratulations, you know that there’s absolutely no way I’m staying now, right?”

“Even before our confrontation today, I could tell that your mind was already made up,” he explained, as nonchalant as ever, as though he hadn’t just poisoned your fucking brother . “Naturally, the next course of action was to prevent you from breaking your contract by any means necessary, so that we could further negotiate. I did not want—”

You would never learn what Zhongli didn’t want, because the fury in your lungs erupted outwards in a burst of elemental energy. You reached out, grabbing one of the last swords in your arsenal — a dull blade that you had been keeping around for enhancement fodder — but it didn’t matter, didn’t matter didn’t matter didn’t matter. All that mattered in that moment was making Zhongli pay .

The familiar warmth of the element you were attuned to channeled through the sword, and you swung it as hard as you could in the direction of the former Archon. A wake of hardened earth ripped through the stone brick of the terrace, circling Zhongli in a jagged cage of rock and crystal. A little too late, you realized your folly.

Zhongli absently reached out, resting his gloved fingers against the earthly fangs you’d entrapped him within. Even through the haze of your anger, you could see a smile — a kind you had never seen on him — forming between his cheeks. “How ironic,” he said, “that you would use the powers that I granted you against me.”

You could see the glow of Geo flowing from your constructs towards his outstretched palm. Vaguely, you knew that you had to run .

“And how endearing—” he continued, and you could hear the rumbling beneath your feet, even as you turned to flee, “—that you truly thought it would work.”

From behind, a shockwave of Geo more powerful than anything you’d ever felt smashed into you, throwing you off your feet and slamming you against the wall behind the pond. You crumpled like a paper lantern, cheek hitting the cool stone floor. As you struggled to keep your eyes open, the last things you saw were Zhongli’s intricate boots, gleaming in the moonlight before you.

#zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli #yan!zhong #zhongli fanfic #genshin fanfic #consequences #anqi writes #my writing

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forlove2020 · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 9 - Body Mods

In retrospect, Dean should’ve known better.

Claire has been hanging around more lately, and that's not a bad thing; it’s quite the opposite. Cas loves to spend time with her, and no matter how many cruel age jokes she makes at his expense, Dean is always happy to see her.

Jack adores Claire; he follows her around the house talking nonstop. He asks Claire unending questions on a wide array of topics. Her childhood; hunts; Kaia; nail polish remover; community college; Batman; even her favorite color of crayon. Nothing is off-limits.

Despite her surly attitude and gruff replies, Claire is genuinely fond of Jack. She lets him get away with a broader scope of questioning than anybody else, and though she’d never admit it, she’s flattered that he considers her to be his sister.

She fits in with the three of them seamlessly; the short visits are almost always good ones, and Dean and Cas give her the guest bedroom whenever she wants or needs to stay longer. To Jack, Claire is a cool older sibling whose attention and affection he will do anything to keep. To Dean and Cas, she’s their surrogate daughter. Odd as the dynamic may be, it’s worked well for everyone so far.

That’s why, when Jack goes on a trip with Kaia, Alex, and Patience, it doesn’t raise too many alarms for Dean. It isn’t as if they’re going on a hunt - Donna’s cousin has a water-front cabin on Lewis and Clark Lake that the kids are renting from her for four days. They're on a vacation, which still seems like a strange concept to the more seasoned hunters in this Post-Chuck world.

Dean and Cas did some discreet digging through archives and local news stories to gauge the likelihood of the young adults running into danger while on the trip, but everything seemed aboveboard in the area. There were a few drownings in the lake a couple decades ago during a really rainy year. Nothing that causes Cas concern or creates any worries that keep Dean up all night.

Claire, Kaia, Alex, Patience and Jack are at the lakehouse for a grand total of six hours before they find a case. Turns out the teenagers that drowned in the lake during the early 2000’s were murdered, and now they’ve come back as ghosts to finish off the innocent descendants of their murderer: a reclusive fisherman who'd committed suicide only two months prior.

Just frickin’ peachy.

Dean is halfway through packing up his rifles and his fishing rods when Cas stops him with a hand lightly pressed to his sleeve. “Dean. I think we should let them handle this.”

“What? No - c’mon, Cas, they’re just kids. We can head out and have those ghosts ganked by tomorrow evening, and then you and I can sit by the lake, stick a blanket on Baby’s hood and lay back under the moon and stars....”

Cas smiles, and brushes a kiss to Dean’s jaw. “Well, I think that sounds nice. Romantic, even. But they’re not kids, Dean. They can handle a couple of ghosts without us.”

“Jack’s a kid,” Dean protests. “I mean, he does look like a grown ass man, but we both know he’s only four.”

“Yes, he is four,” Cas agrees gently, “But he’s also the most powerful being to ever walk this Earth, and maybe even the most powerful person to ever exist. He’s not in any danger from a ghost or two. And Claire and the other girls are skillful Hunters. They may be young, but think of all they have each gone through, then look me in the eye and tell me you consider them still children.”

Dean blows out a breath, looking away. “Yeah, okay. Fine. God, I hate it when you’re right.” He leans in to peck a quick kiss at the corner of Cas’ mouth to soften the bite of his words.

Cas doesn't answer back, a look of supercilious triumph on his face. He can afford to be a gracious winner.

Jack updates them on the case frequently in a group chat that also includes Sam and Eileen, and Dean worries a little less with each text or gruesome photo of corpses Jack sends because it means they're all still safe and alive.

By nine o'clock on the second night, the case is solved. The ghosts have moved on, and the civilians are saved. Dean feels slightly weak in the knees with relief when he hears the news, and though Cas is the one who had made the argument to stay back, his tense shoulders finally relax.

Later that evening, the messages Jack sends them take on a strange quality. At first, Dean can’t quite put his finger on why he's bothered so much. The texts are unclear and stilted, and the photos Jack takes seem blurry, as if his hands were shaking when he snapped the shot. Dean squints down at the pictures on his phone because he is too stubborn to purchase glasses (Eileen has been ribbing him lately about couples who start to look like one another after a while; she says Dean now squints as badly as Cas). Everybody in the picture seems fine; they’re grinning broadly at the camera while warming themselves by a cheerful bonfire. It seems that they are roasting marshmallows. Claire and Kaia are cozied up together on a fallen log with a plaid blanket on their laps, Patience waves, and Alex gives the camera a peace sign: her mouth is open mid-sentence.

Dean’s eyes narrow suspiciously. They seem happy. Too happy.

The next morning as Dean goes down to the kitchen to start coffee, he checks his messages. Fewer and fewer texts came in as it got later, and so far this morning, no messages have been sent. He frowns, puts the phone back in his pocket, and gets started on making breakfast.

By noon, there are still no texts. Cas shrugs when Dean mentions the lack of communication, saying that he hopes it means they’re having a good time.

At 2pm, Sam calls Dean.

“Well?” Sam begins without preamble.

“Either they’re in some kind of trouble, or they're making their own trouble as they go along,” Dean answers shortly. Sam didn't need to say what he's thinking; despite hunting less and living further apart, they're still on the same wavelength. Sam and Dean grew up relying on one another when they had nobody else to depend on and that’s something that distance cannot diminish.

“Mhmm.” There’s muffled background noise on Sam’s end, and Dean hears him murmuring to the sleepy baby Eileen's just placed in his arms. “Cas worried?”

“Not yet,” Dean grunts, looking out the window. Cas has taken Miracle for a walk, but they’ll probably stop and check in on Cas’ garden after they’ve come back inside. “He trusts them.”

At that, Sam lets out a quiet huff of amusement, attempting not to startle his sleeping child. “Yeah, you’ve raised a lot of kids at this point, Dean. Cas hasn’t had as much experience with the kind of trouble they can get into. Hell, it’s not like he was ever even a kid to begin with.”

Dean sighs. He’s worried about Jack and Claire, about all of them, really, and he’s tempted to call Jack so he can try to weasel out some kind of information about what’s going on, but at the same time….

“I trust them too, Sammy,” Dean admits. “It’s hard as hell to relax, but they’re good kids. Good people. And they know we’ve got their backs if they really need us.”

“Aw, look who’s finally a grown-up,” Sam teases, “I guess love really can change a man. Hey, tell Cas from me that- ”

Dean hangs up on Sam. He can get away with it; they’re on the same wavelength after all.

At 4:50 pm, not long after Cas picks up and sets his phone down twice in a row to see if he’s missed any messages, Jack finally texts them.

Hi! We are packing up tonight and then we’ll be home tomorrow afternoon! XOXO - Jack

Dean and Cas squint at their respective phones with suspicion. Dean raises an eyebrow at Cas, who stubbornly refuses to engage in speculation by ignoring the pointed look Dean casts in his direction.

A full day passes. Jack sends them a photo or a text here and there on the drive home; a picture of bored cows munching grass in the fields, a comment on how much he likes the new single by Adele (Cas Googles it immediately), a hilarious meme about the Backstreet Boys, and so on.

What Jack does not do is mention the near radio silence he'd kept on the day before.

The sun’s just beginning to set as Claire’s car pulls up the long driveway of the home Dean and Cas built on an acre of property the Men of Letters owned. It is on the outskirts of the forest, above a portion of the Bunker so that the warding can extend into their house.

Cas opens his arms wide as Jack, Claire, and Kaia stumble out of the car, and Dean notices, as Jack sinks into his father’s arms, how the boy tries to hide a wince when Cas’ hands land on the space between his shoulder blades.

“So, how was the trip?” Dean asks casually, thumping Claire’s back as he goes to hug her. She winces even worse than Jack.

Interesting.

“We kicked ghost-ass,” Jack answers matter-of-factly as he cautiously extracts himself from Cas’s arms. Clearly, it’s a phrase that someone else used and Jack has adopted.

The bags under Kaia’s eyes seem deeper than usual; she must not have slept much lately. “It was a straightforward hunt. Jack did really well.”

“I never had any doubt,” Cas tells her warmly.

Claire clears her throat. Her face is haggard and she’s rolling her shoulders and neck like she’s uncomfortable, desperate to get back on the road. “Well, we’ve dropped the kid off safe and sound. Kaia and I are gonna hit it, we’re heading back to Sioux Falls tonight. Alex and Patience went straight home. We’ll see ya later.” She takes Kaia’s hand, and turns, preparing to flee.

“Not. So. Fast,” Dean thunders.

Everyone freezes. Cas alone looks confused, the others avoid Dean’s glare guiltily.

“Jack, shirt off,” he orders abruptly.

Eyes widening, Jack looks at Claire and Kaia for help, then turns his gaze pleadingly on Cas. “What are you talking about? Why? It’s too cold out here, Dean!”

Cas looks at Dean for a long moment, and silent but thorough communication passes between them. Cas turns back to Jack, folding his arms across his chest, and says neutrally, “I believe Dean must have a good reason since he’s asking you, Jack.”

“But Castiel, I...oh, fine.” Jack slumps dejectedly. He pulls off the flannel and the soft t-shirt underneath, and turns around so they can all see his back.

There, on the raw curve of skin emblazoned with vivid lime green ink, is tattooed the words:

Ghostfacers!

“Okay, look,” Claire interrupts at the sight of their expressions. “It’s not Jack’s fault! We had a couple beers at the bar to celebrate and then we went back to the house and made a couple pitchers of margaritas and...I think we probably did shots at some point too - and then were really reeaallly drunk and still drunk the next day, and the tattoo parlor seemed like a great idea at the time because there was this sale -”

“And what did you get, Claire?” Dean interrupts suddenly, because Cas’ long buried Wrath-of-God face just made an unexpected reappearance, and even though Dean’s mad at them for being so careless, he’s not quite angry enough that he wants Cas to kill both of their kids.

Claire’s face flushes crimson.

“It says ‘Claire ‘n Kaia 4 evah’ in hot pink. It’s spelled out like it sounds,” Jack explains helpfully. Claire buries her face in her hands, mortified, and Kaia cringes with sympathy.

Dean blinks. “Wow. That’s...uh.” He clears his throat and looks at Kaia. “Well. And what did you get stuck with, Good Twin?”

She shuffles, embarrassed. “Oh. Um, the sale was two for the price of one and there were five of us, so…” Kaia shrugs. Dean can’t help but laugh. This one's a smart cookie. The absurdity of the awful tattoos is making his irritation fade away.

Cas definitely isn't on the same page yet. He blows a breath out of his nose, aggrieved. Dean squeezes his arm, amused despite himself. “Easy, tiger. Kids do dumb shit like this all the time. It’s part of the parenting experience.”

“And when does the part of parenting that prevents them from being so idiotic kick in?” Cas demands.

“I don’t know, Sam still seems like a dumbass to me - so, maybe never? But these three seem pretty sorry. I think they've learned their lesson. Hangovers ain't pretty." The trio nod in miserable agreement.

Cas’ eyes narrow into thin slits. "No, Dean. I think what you meant to say was: you are grounded, Jack, until we're sure you understand the errors you've made. Claire, Kaia; you may technically be adults, but Jack was your responsibility this weekend, and because of this you've lost our trust. I will be calling Jody tonight to inform her of what's happened, and you will not be taking Jack anywhere with you in the near future." Cas raises his hands against the barrage of protests and complaints that immediately come his way. "Don't bother. I'm not changing my mind. I'm extremely disappointed in each of you." He looks at Dean with exasperation. “You deal with them, Dean. I’m going to go make dinner.” Abruptly, he turns and storms back into the house, and Miracle wags her tail, oblivious to the tension, following him inside.

What a drama king, Dean thinks fondly even as he rolls his eyes. God, I love him.

Jack, Kaia and Claire watched Cas go dejectedly. Dean claps his hands and chuckles. “Whoo boy, are you guys on his shit list.” He nods at the door. “C’mon, let's go and help Mr. Smitey with dinner.”

“Uhm, are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t think we should get in his way right now.” Kaia seems nervous at the thought; she’d never met Cas during his initial Celestial Terror days.

Dean’s glad they’re disconcerted. Maybe Cas has put the fear of god into them…Dean darts a quick look at Jack. Uh, metaphorically speaking, of course. “Don’t worry about it too much. I’ve pissed off Cas way worse than this, let me tell you. Man….” He shakes his head at the memories. “Anyhow, give him some time to cool off and I’ll talk to him. We'll work it out. He'll forgive you guys sooner than you think." He nods at the door. “Now get in there and help him peel potatoes.”

The young adults file into the house with trepidation, leaving Dean to stand outside by himself. He stays there a moment, thinking of terrible tattoos and the poor choices that these kids, his kids have made, and then thinks further back to his own childhood, and how John would have reacted to the same situation. At first Dean smiles grimly to himself, then sighs and lets the pain of his past melt away, pushing it back into the recesses of his memory where it belongs. He's not the same man his father was; he's different in ways that Dean hopes are for the better.

He opens the door to his own house, this wonderful home he and Cas have built together after all of the years of sweat, blood, and tears that preceded, and he hears the sounds of life and love contained within. Dean smiles, genuinely this time, and goes inside, letting the door swing softly shut behind him.

END

******************************************************************

I’m still playing catch up! Here’s day 9 on day 11...oh well! Any writing is better than none, y’know?

My goal is to make most of the Suptober 21 prompts I write one shots that will tie in to my work in progress fix-it fic (Destiel, Saileen, post 15x20, etc.)

Thank you for reading!

-V

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theolsentimes · 3 years

Text

Mary-Kate Olsen's Singular Style

She came to fame as a twin, but the actress's cultish look is entirely her own. Here, with Lauren Hutton, she pays homage to another fashion inspiration, Grey Gardens. Written by Laura Brown, with photography by Peter Lindbergh (Harper's Bazaar, 2007)

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Mary-Kate Olsen may be the only young actress who breezes into her local Starbucks wearing towering, fashion-fierce Balenciaga boots, who arrives at her latest premiere (in Mary-Kate's case, for the new season of Showtime's Weeds, in which she plays a devout Christian with a pot fetish) sporting an oversize cross, and whose favorite band is Led Zeppelin. She may, in fact, be the only young actress who knows who Led Zeppelin is. MK, as she is known to her friends and family, is also a punctual and professional sort. She arrives for a poolside tea in Los Angeles 10 minutes early, ordering a hot chocolate while explaining her fetish for all things sweet — "I'm a candy girl, like Tootsie Rolls and Swedish Fish" — and objecting when the waiter tries to take the sugar bowl away. She is wearing a nautical striped T-shirt (her mom's, from the '70s), tucked into two black Wolford slips rolled down and turned into a tight, Robert-Palmer-video-style mini, and multicolored sparkly Christian Louboutin stilettos. She's just had her hair colored, returning to a sunnier shade after some experiments with both peroxide ("I woke up one morning and was like, I want white-trash hair today") and the dark side (an auburn-haired near-Goth moment last year). She's carrying a large black fringed leather Prada tote — she doesn't do small bags — and her fingers are covered with rings, most notably two vintage coiled gold snakes stacked on top of each other. ("They remind me of twins, sort of double headed.") Altogether, the effect is less her famed "bag-lady chic" than an edgy, body-conscious, and, yes, sexy silhouette. If she weren't 21, she could be 40. And French.

Few people need reminding that Mary-Kate — with her twin sister, Ashley — literally crawled into celebrity aged nine months (courtesy of Full House) and has not been out of the spotlight ever since. She has been a celebrity for more than two decades. Perhaps that's one reason she seems as if she came out of the womb worldly, the textbook old soul. "Yeah," she says with a small shrug. "I get that a lot." With all of that attention and all of the money (her and Ashley's company, Dualstar, has famously become a "billion-dollar business"), Mary-Kate could easily have ended up the type who wears pink terry cloth and carries a variety of small dogs. "Could you imagine?" she says with the politest version of a snort. "No way." She credits her exceptionally close-knit family (she has five siblings) and, interestingly, early stardom with helping her keep her perspective. "I think it helped that I started in front of the camera, so it didn't come as a shock. If I was a teenager and was thrown into the spotlight, I don't know how I would react, to be honest." Though the tabloids are all too keen to brand her a skinny, nervous deer in the headlights, in person Mary-Kate is easy in her skin, confident and surprisingly tactile, curling up in her seat and touching you on the arm to make a point. She laments the generic style of most actresses and cites only men as style inspirations: "Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp. Men, they just dress the way they want, and they don't think about Who Wore It Best." She doesn't much care for Who Wore It Best, noting she avoids those pages by "wearing vintage so often. I just dress the way I feel instead of looking for what's the new handbag." If Mary-Kate and Ashley have their way, more people will be wearing clothes and carrying bags the way they do. They have just shown the fifth collection of their ready-to-wear line, the Row, and recently launched a contemporary label, Elizabeth and James, named after a sister and a brother. The Row's holiday collection (in stores next month) is a slick mix of skinny leather pants, razor-cut blazers, butter-soft, slouchy tees, and a destined-to-be-cultish pullover fur. Lauren Hutton, who stars in the Row's Spring '08 look book, says, "The clothes are extraordinary. A man I was with just loved them. The pieces are just so genius, soft like a baby's skin. Simple minimalist stuff, but really spectacular." Mary-Kate, designer, faces an interesting challenge. She has to marry Dualstar — which has made its fortune selling tween-tastic DVDs and pastel Mary-Kate and Ashley T-shirts at Wal-Mart — with her increasingly edgy and subversive taste. Dualstar executives, some of whom have worked with her since she was a child, often nag her, mom-style, about pulling her hair back "or wearing a color," she says with a laugh. "I had this event recently, and I was like, They're going to be so happy that I'm wearing ... purple. I actually have to think about those things, though, you know, so I don't get trashed." Get trashed sometimes she does. Hutton says, "Once in a while, she'll wear something and I'll think, Oh, baby doll, take another look. But to have the bravery, to take the chance to do that, is pretty wonderful. She is making her own way, which is hardly ever done in Hollywood." Of Mary-Kate's penchant for gigantic Balenciaga heels, Jenji Kohan, the creator of Weeds, says, laughing, "I'd be like, 'It's Tuesday. Do you really want to be wearing those shoes?' But she pulls it off." Designer Giambattista Valli, a friend, says, "She likes to take risks, but because she has such strong personal style, she always manages to make it work. Even if she had nothing on, she'd have style." And MK chic is spreading. "Sometimes I'll look at people or at a magazine and I'll do a double take because I'm like, Oh, my God, that's my outfit, but that's not me," Mary-Kate says. Playing with her wire-rimmed aviators, she jokes wryly that she should have bought shares in Ray-Ban. (She and Chloë Sevigny pretty much brought back white '80s Wayfarers.) She tends to fall in love with a look, then wear it until she's done. "If I put together a good outfit, I'll wear it for three days and then switch it up with a blazer," she says. "I still love my vintage jeans, my tights, and my pants, though." She didn't start wearing heels, in fact, until a couple of years ago: "I kept watching Ashley walk around in them so gracefully, and I'm such a klutz. But I ended up loving heels, and I don't usually take them off." She wears precisely one pair of flat shoes: Chanel's knee-high patent-leather gladiator sandals. This season, it's Balenciaga's fall collection — all of it — that has Mary-Kate obsessed. She is close to designer Nicolas Ghesquière and says, "He is so talented, but he's the nicest, most down-to-earth guy, and that makes everything he does more brilliant. I bought everything, but I haven't got anything yet," she says like a girl impatiently waiting for Christmas. Will she wear the new pieces with her infamous clodhopper boots? "Uh-huh. Wore them the other day, actually." Mary-Kate always goes with her gut, even if some people (back to those tabloids) don't quite get it. "The tabloids say things about me? What do they say?" she asks archly. "People are going to write what they want, and everyone's going to have their own idea of who I am. But I'm not trying to be friends with the people who are reading them, really." After a rough couple of years filled with near-forensic scrutiny of her weight, she'll have you know that she does eat. "This is not going to sound good," she laughs, "but I like making crispy tofu sticks with peanut sauce. I love my sashimi and my salmon and my vegetables." She observes, "Stress plays a big role in how I look day-to-day. I've always been very active — Pilates, yoga. I grew up horseback riding every day for hours. I love dancing. I usually last longer than anyone on the dance floor." A common image of Mary-Kate has her emerging from a coffee joint with an oversize cup. "I always get creamed for having my Starbucks cup," she says, sighing. "But the only time people get photos of me is when I'm getting coffee, when I can't sneak away from the camera." She also resents the pictorial implication that she and Ashley are dilettantes. "They take photos of us going into our offices, and it's 'Mary-Kate and Ashley shopping again.' But I'm going to work for eight hours, and we're working so hard. ..." She trails off. "It just shows how people want to think of you." Mary-Kate is not above celeb watching herself, however. Newly obsessed with Victoria Beckham, she notes she avidly watched Beckham's Coming to America documentary: "She's running around in a bikini and heels, and I'm like, Oh, my God! I do that, too!" How positively Grey Gardens. "I run around my house naked with heels all the time. It's so funny. All my friends will tell you I love running around in kimonos and jewelry or naked with jewelry." More people will be watching Mary-Kate soon, thanks to her role in the Emmy-nominated Weeds. "I am a very good Christian girl," she says with a wink. "She has her moral beliefs — and she happens to smoke pot." Of her newest cast member, Kohan adds, "Mary-Kate is complicated. She's a big celebrity, a huge media icon, but you have to separate the media images from someone who has the same issues, the same desires, as anyone else." Of course, Mary-Kate's image, in all its incarnations — from high fashion to small screen — is her strongest asset. And she has yet to settle on one. "I feel like I've lived 10 different lives already and I'm only 21," she says, almost as a reminder to herself. "But I also feel like I'm entering a new chapter." One thing on which she is clear, though: She doesn't need to be looked at all the time. What would she do for a day if she were invisible? "I would probably go to a restaurant with my friends, who would be able to see me, of course," she adds pragmatically, "and I would sit outside and enjoy a nice lunch with them. Then I would walk down the street." The old soul takes a sip of her little-girl-sweet hot chocolate. "That's what I would do."

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