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trungles · 1 year

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Regarding your winter romcoms: just wanted to say you have truly IMPECCABLE taste in films (which is to say that we have the *same* movie taste), and it makes me love you/your art all the more. Any other suggestions? Ultimte favorite films? Do share!

HELLO, it has been a hot dang minute since I did one of these, and I'm pretty sure this question was dropped into my inbox closer to Christmas of 2022. So. Thank you very much for your kind words, anonymous, and apologies for the very long delay!

This is a fun question, though, so I really wanted to answer it eventually. Forgive the typos, grab your popcorn and your Red Vines (the best licorice-ish candy, I WILL FIGHT YOU no I won't but I love them), and let's go through my favorite comfort-watch movies. They're mostly rom-coms and coming-of-age movies for teens.

As a general caveat, I am not a big movie person at all. I know basically nothing about film. You will find no sensitive critique or analysis here. My favorite movies are all VIBES. I'm also not a big horror/thriller/bloody violence sort of person, so I don't watch many of those, which is weird because a goodly number of my dearest friends are horror film buffs. Also, I have made it a habit, in my adulthood, to go watch movies that I wasn't allowed to watch or didn't have access to as a kid. I'm a first-and-a-half generation immigrant to the United States, so my way of getting comfortable with American culture was to sort of approximate its vibes by absorbing its popular culture almost anthropologically? So in this post I'll maybe go over why I like it, and I might mention some of the things that have not aged super well because, as I'm sure you know, every single thing ever made cannot help being a product of the time it was made. I believe in being able to watch these things critically, enjoying them as they are, understanding that everybody's mileage may vary, and that not everything I like will be for everyone. I'm mostly including this bit because it's internet and people don't always know how to simply disengage with things they don't like.

In my Winter Movie post, I recommended The Holiday, When Harry Met Sally, Single All the Way, Moonstruck, and While You Were Sleeping, so I won't go over those again. Let's kick this off with something to help manage everybody's expectations.

The McG-directed Charlie's Angels movies, 2000 and 2003. Both of them.

I actually saw the second one first. It was one of the first PG-13 movies I ever saw in theatres, and it sort of just imprinted in my psyche, I think? They're just fun. They're real fuckin' fun. Cameron Diaz, Lucy Liu, and Drew Barrymore have great onscreen chemistry, and the cheesy wire-fu sequences are so ham-fisted that they delight me. These movies know exactly what they are, and they're very up-front about being Movies, particularly the second one where every scene seems to have an Old Hollywood pastiche. The first one has a bit of very odd brownface moments that I did not love upon rewatch.

Singin' in the Rain, 1952

I saw this movie for the first time when I was in middle school, and I was absolutely obsessed. It was the very first time I realized that the movies had its own histories, and that there was a transition of culture when there was a change in technology. Also, I just loved watching Gene Kelly dance, for gay reasons. Plus, Rita Moreno is in it for a split second, and she's divine.

Clueless, 1995

This movie rules, I don't know what else to say. It's a fantastic Austen adaptation, and while I was too young to catch this in the 90s, it felt great catching up with this one as an adult. I think it also helped me contextualize what other kids were into in the 90s, so I retroactively feel less isolated from my peers. It's a weird sort of magic. It's also strange to me, in hindsight, that in 1995 there was an enormous hit teen movie where there is a gay character who is treated incredibly lovingly for the time? Like, no gay trauma, no homophobic bullying, no nothing. He's just there, and he gets folded into the rest of the story and remains important to the main character's life? I'd have loved that as a kid.

Shanghai Noon, 2000

The year 2000 was an incredible time for goofy action comedies, and this one was formative for me. It's extremely silly and embarrassing to admit, but this movie was the first time I learned about how Chinese railroad workers built the transcontinental railroads in the later 1800s. I first saw it as a rental from the local video store, and my parents let me watch it because my dad liked Jackie Chan movies. It's... very 2000 in its treatment of racial politics, but you could reasonably argue that not too much has changed since.

The Princess Bride, 1987

I don't need to explain this to anyone.

Four Weddings and a Funeral, 1994

God, you can see the accent on Hugh Grant's mouth. I don't know why I love this movie as much as I do. I came to it a bit later in my teen years, and I'd watch it again every few years. It's grown on me more and more as the years go on. It's the only British-American ensemble production that I really latched onto, and it's in no small part because the supporting cast is so much fun to watch.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, 1953

This is one of my favorite movies of all time. I watch it probably three or four times a year. Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell star as two showgirls who embark on a cruise to France to work around the machinations of an old millionaire who refuses to let his son marry Monroe's character. It's got that iconic Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend number, and it has one of the best third-act thesis statement speeches I've ever heard in any era. It's a great old musical.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, 2008

This is a gem that I missed back in 2008 because I was graduating high school at the time and had other things going on (being queer at a Catholic high school in the 2000s sucked ass, btw, let this ol' geezer tell ya). Frances McDormand plays a conservative governess who can't hold down a job because she, being a preacher's daughter, is a morally upright Amelia Bedelia. Out of desperation, she scams her way into becoming the social secretary for a bubbly young actress played by Amy Adams, and they spend a wild and heartwarming day together where Frances McDormand's character navigates wartime, friendship, and romance. This is also the movie that made me develop an embarrassing crush on Lee Pace (not because Lee Pace is embarrassing, I just hate having crushes on famous actors because I know, at the end of the day, that they're just weird theatre kids who have money now). It's based on a novel written in 1938, and it's aged surprisingly well.

Sailor Moon SuperS, 1995

I borrowed the VHS for this movie from the library as often as I could in the second or third grade. It was the one movie I had memorized in my brain to the extent that I could just recite the dub to myself whenever I wanted. Plus, Chibi Moon was my favorite (do not @ me, I will fight you).

Waiting to Exhale, 1995

I don't know how I caught this one as a kid or which channel aired it, but Waiting to Exhale–starring Whitney Houston, Angela Bassett, Loretta Devine, and Lela Rochon–was something I saw pieces of when I was way too young to understand any of it, and it was a joy to revisit it as an adult. I've since seen it a few times. This endlessly gif'd scene pictured above is every bit as cathartic as it looks, and the soundtrack is incredible.

The Mummy, 1999

Yeah yeah, this is an incredibly unsurprising and safe pick, but the movie is so much damn fun, and Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz have the most belligerently bisexual energy ever shared between a heterosexual pairing. I don't know how else to explain it.

Sister Act 2, 1993

I saw this one on TV a lot, and I watched it from top to bottom every single time. I don't think I've ever actually seen the first one.

Adventures in Babysitting, 1987

I found this movie incredibly delightful, and I'm pretty sure I watched it in adulthood because I was looking for this movie I'd only seen in bits and pieces on TV as a kid or something. It stars Elizabeth Shue and a very young Anthony Rapp. Plot-wise, it's very much like Lord of the Rings if Gandalf were a plucky teen girl and the hobbits were a bunch of literal children. I'm not kidding. It's also an 80s movie about a bunch of white suburbanites who have adventures in Chicago, so there are a couple cringey moments, but by the standards of its time, nothing wildly egregious. Bonus points for a surprise appearance by strapping young Vincent D'Onofrio.

Pretty in Pink, 1986, and Some Kind of Wonderful, 1987, double-feature.

I put these two together because they're the same movie, but gender-swapped. They're both written by John Hughes and directed by Howard Deutch, so they have the same very ineffectual Reagan-era flattening of class consciousness. They're about a poor girl/boy protagonist who falls in love with a rich boy/girl. The protagonist develops a richer relationship with their beleaguered father character and develop a better understanding of themselves, kind of. John Hughes teen comedy-dramas are significant, I think, because they're some of the first blockbuster teen movies that took teens and their feelings seriously, wrote from their perspectives, and courted teens as an audience (for all kinds of historical and economic reasons between the 70s and the 80s, I'm sure, but I'm no expert). They're also more watchable than some of the other John Hughes teen movies; Sixteen Candles is basically unwatchable to me.

Porco Rosso, 1992

I told myself I could only pick one Ghibli movie for this list, and this is it. Porco Rosso might be my favorite Ghibli movie, which might seem like an odd choice for me. Like a lot of millennials who were teens when Spirited Away came out, I got really into the Ghibli catalogue in the late 2000s but had seen some Ghibli movies much earlier in my life. My first was technically Grave of the Fireflies. I was eight, and came away with the notion that if I left my little brother alone, who was five at the time, the adults around us would just let him die, so I had to watch him as carefully as I could. I became an incredibly anxious and overbearing older brother very early. Next, I'd see the Buena Vista release of Kiki's Delivery service, so I have a soft spot for all the Sydney Forest pop songs they inserted in the 90s dub of that movie. By the time I watched Porco Rosso, I'd seen most of the rest of the Ghibli catalogue, but it really stood out to me. Most of Miyazaki's protagonists are girls, but this one is a kids' feature about a middle-aged man with a pig's head. In hindsight, I think I loved it because it is one of those rare children's narratives that conflates femininity with practicality and masculinity with frivolous ostentatiousness. It's worth a watch!

Say Anything... , 1989

This is one of those teen movies where they take small, mundane problems and make them enormous, which I sort of love as a storytelling tool. John Cusack plays Lloyd, a high school underachiever who falls in love with the valedictorian, and you watch him experience true internal motivation for the first time in his young life. It's very cute! I think the thing this sort of teen movie gets really right about being a teenager is you don't really have a sense of scale for your problems at that age because all your problems are just problems you're encountering for largely the first time. Ione Skye's valedictorian character experiences a pretty devastating family issue with her father, but it's flattened into the same strata as her anxiety about flying, her first breakup, and her feelings of isolation and remove from her peers. Plus Lili Taylor is in this as Lloyd's best friend character, and she's great, just like in the next movie on this list...

Mystic Pizza, 1988

I couldn't decide which gif I wanted to use for this movie, so I just picked two. It's another slice-of-life teen comedy-drama, and it's real cozy. The performances from all the young actors are fantastic. Lili Taylor, Annabeth Gish, and Julia Roberts are great in this, plus you get to see strapping young Vincent D'Onofrio again, which is a treat. He gets to do a lot more in this one. At this point it's worth noting that 80s teen movies are obsessed with romances among young people across different social strata, and true to the Reagan era, the movies like to impress upon its audiences that hating rich people is the same as hating poor people (cue heavy eyeroll). This honestly explains a lot of things to me about today's political discourses, I think.

To All the Boys I've Loved Before, 2018

I enjoyed this Netflix movie so much that I watched it 16 or 17 times in the month after its release. It's fine, I'm fine. I don't know exactly what it was. I love rom coms. I've seen a ton of high school romance movies, and this one hit me really hard for some reason.

And that's everything I could come up with off the very top of my head. I think I hit something like 20 movies up there? Whew! That's my evening, but it was the only thing I could focus on for more than an hour at a time today.

#ask trungles #movies

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babeyvenus · 1 year

Text

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 61: Are We Friends, Or Not?

Sam walked in her house that night, seeing her mom in the kitchen. She felt so stuck. Scott, Lydia or Malia can't remember who Stiles is, and the sheriff is denying ever having a son.

She didn't know who else to go to. Denise caught her daughter's glossy, reddened eyes and frowned worriedly. "What's the matter, baby?", she asked, walking up to the girl.

Sam sobbed, rushing into her mom's arms. "I don't know what to do. I want Stiles back…!", she cried. Denise held Sam tightly, rubbing her back. "Stiles, baby?", Denise asked. "Who's Stiles?"

Sam cried harder. "I don't know! That's the problem! I can't remember anything but he feels like he's missing and he definitely exists!", she exclaimed, wiping at her eyes and pulling out her phone to show a copy of the picture they took.

"Right there!", she points at the empty spot. "Someone was sitting there. But he's missing. I don't understand why.", she explained.

Denise hugged her daughter. "You'll figure it out. I know you will." Sam sniffled in her mom's arms before being sent to bed.

Feeling grass nipping at her skin, Sam's eyes open to the night sky above her. She doesn't sleepwalk…

She sat up and looked around before standing. She was in a clearing. The grass under her feet made her feel weirdly grounded.

"You've finally come back.", she heard. Turning around, her eyes widened at the sight of a tall woman peering back at her with a pleased expression.

The woman's dark head tilted in wonder. "Why do you look like you've forgotten me, child?"

Sam rubbed her arm, looking down at her feet. "Seems like I'm forgetting a lot these days…"

The woman moved closer to the girl, lifting a hand to raise her chin to meet her eyes. "You have to remember. You have to bring that boy back. He's on the brink of getting killed. Him being forgotten is only the beginning."

Sam's eyes widened. "I want to save him, but–"

The woman shook her head. "You'll figure it out."

Sam's eyes closed once more before opening them to find her room again.

That day, she decided to go to school, but it wouldn't be easy.

Sam couldn't focus on her classes. She spent her period in the library, researching the Wild Hunt. None of the research mentioned erasing people which frustrated her.

Later in the day, Lydia gathered Scott, Malia, and Sam in the hallway where she showed them a Library ID card of a boy that they didn't remember named Jake Sullivan. "It's a relic."

Malia looked at her, confused. "What's a relic?"

"It's an object with a fixed association to the past.", Sam said. "Like Indian artifacts."

"Exactly," Lydia nodded with a smile. "Jake's ID was left behind after he was taken. And Gwen found her sister's bracelet on her bedroom floor."

"How can someone be erased, and still leave something behind?", Malia asked. "A conservation of mass. The total mass of any isolated system remains constant.", Lydia explained.

"So, even the Ghost Riders have a weakness." Scott nodded, understanding.

Malia took the ID card from Lydia. "A relic would be proof that Stiles existed.", she said, inspecting the card front to back.

Lydia nodded again. Scott nodded. "And maybe we can bring him back." The school bell rang, interrupting their conversation. "Okay, we'll talk about this later?"

"Right.", Malia nodded, giving Lydia Jake's Library

ID card then left to go to her next class as well as Scott. Sam sighed as she stayed with Lydia. "You wanna get out of here?", Lydia asked.

Sam nodded, following the girl out of the school. Getting into Lydia's car, Sam looked at the girl. "How'd you figure the proof of existence was the way to get him back?", she asked.

Lydia sighed, starting up her car. "Ever since I found that card… I just couldn't shake this feeling that Stiles really does exist. If the picture wasn't enough, there had to be something else."

They arrived at the Police Station, headed towards Sheriff Stilinski's office. Explaining what was going on, Lydia handed him a library card. Stilinski looked at the girls, confused. "You want to search my house?"

"People are leaving things behind. So if Stiles left anything—" Lydia was cut off.

"Why — why would it be there?", Sheriff asked them.

"Because he was your son.", Sam said. "And besides, people don't just get erased. They leave things behind."

Sheriff sighed, thinking. "I couldn't sleep last night. So, um, I got up, figured I'd do some paperwork. The files were in the back of my car. So, I-I go to the garage, and some junk has fallen off a shelf and I stubbed my toe on an old baseball bat."

At the word baseball bat, Sam felt a twinge in her chest. One that made her want to let out a laugh. Why? Why was a memory, that for the life of her, so fond when she couldn't remember it?

Noah continued, "Without thinking yelled a name–"

"Stiles. You said Stiles.", Sam said, smiling.

The sheriff allowed the girls to go into his home, only to be met with Claudia Stilinski.

"Is there anything I can do to help?", she asked. "No thanks, Mrs. Stilinski.", Sam dismissed.

Lydia nodded. "Yeah, we should be fine. But thank you, Mrs. Stilinski.", she said, sweetly. Claudia nodded, clearing her throat. "Well, good luck." She sighed. "I'll leave you girls to it." Claudia leaving the girls to their assignment.

Sam looked around, frowning at the walls of the house. If her hearing were any better, she could hear the laughter of kids in the hall. It made her sad in a way.

There was a chance that Stilinski had a son, and he couldn't remember him, while Claudia is beyond blind to the preposition.

"You getting anything?", Lydia asked Sam. "Not really.", Sam says.

Sam looked at the pictures of Claudia and Noah that rested on the bar in front of her. In most of the pictures, Claudia seems more happy than Noah. What was the problem?

While Lydia searched some more, Sam's eyes caught a piece of folded out wallpaper on the wall. "That's awkward…", she mumbled, crouching near the wall, picking at the folded piece.

She almost jumped as she saw a figure beside her. Looking up, she saw a boy with pale skin, darkened bags under his eyes, and ruffled brown hair. He looked like he just came out of a fight.

"You didn't see it, did you?", he asked Sam.

"See what?", Sam asked. "It's right in front of your face.", he said, making her look at the wallpaper again.

Sam tugged at a loose piece, ripping it off the wall. She continued to do so until she felt someone's harsh grip on her arm.

She looked at the hand gripping her arm before looking to see Claudia looking at her with wide, concerned eyes.

"What are you doing?", she exclaimed. "It was bothering me.", Sam said, yanking her arm back.

"I'm sorry about this, Mrs. Stilinski. We'll leave.", Lydia said, tugging on Sam. "I think that's something we can agree on.", Claudia said as they left the house.

"What was that?", Lydia asked Sam as they got in her car. "Well, I saw a boy.", Sam said. "So you peeled off the wallpaper?", Lydia asked, confused.

Sam frowned. "It was just a little bit! It rubbed me the wrong way."

"Something's off," Lydia said. "I understood if I took a permanent marker and went to town on her wall, but it's just wallpaper.", Sam said.

Lydia drove back to the school and managed to get into her mom's school computer, looking up Claudia's old school file. They read through, seeing nothing suspicious or unusual. They were back to square one again. Stuck.

She looked up once Natalie Martin showed up. "Were you two tearing Claudia wallpaper off of her wall?"

"No." Lydia spoke and Natalie tilted her head at the two. "Maybe. Yes.", Sam mumbled, looking back at the screen.

Natalie's eyes softened. "She's worried about your mental health."

"I saw someone in the hallway. Someone that Claudia didn't see.", Sam defended, frowning. "I think he was trying to help me find something Stiles left behind. A relic."

"Did you?", Natalie asked. "She stopped me before I could.", Sam said.

Natalie chuckled, making her way around

the desk. "Probably because you were tearing her wallpaper." She looked at the computer screen, seeing Claudia's file on the screen.

She sighed. "Oh, girls. I've known Claudia since high school. I trust her."

Sam frowned. "Just because you do doesn't mean that we do."

Natalie pulled up a chair, looking at Lydia and Sam. "You know, recently, Lydia has been bringing up theories about your supposed friend, Stiles.", she said then glanced at Sam. "I thought that it was her or Scott encouraging the thought, but it's you who's doing it."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Are you really trying to blame me?"

"I just don't want my daughter to chase something that probably doesn't exist.", Natalie said and sighed. "Sam…do you know what a confirmation bias is?"

"The tendency to interpret information in a way that confirms an existing preconception.", Sam answered.

She nodded. "Yes. It's a biased perspective. You're looking for proof to support what you already believe is true. Only because you want it to be true."

Sam glared at her. "Stiles is real."

Natalie sighed. "But do you believe there's a possibility he's not?"

Sam's eyes blinked back unshed tears. What the hell was up with everyone telling her that Stiles wasn't real when there had been occurrences that showed the complete opposite?

"There are bits and pieces of things that I can't remember. There's a hole in memories I have and I can't figure it out.", she said, growing frustrated.

"You don't think I would want to give up this idea that Stiles doesn't exist? You don't think I wanna live my life with ease, to move on from this? Someone is missing from my life," she pointed at Lydia. "Our lives, and we are trying our damnedest to figure it out so everything can be fixed."

"I…I'm sorry." Natalie took off her glasses. "How about this? You tell me everything you know and I'll be your unbiased perspective.", she proposed.

Sam sighed and shook her head. "What I know are only bits and pieces, but they aren't getting anywhere. I saw that boy, I saw a woman the other day and she told me all stops have been canceled. But not just yet and I have yet to figure out what the hell that means."

It was an exhausting thought. She wanted to go to sleep if it meant that she could escape this reality to get her mind sorted out. Escaping from the reality that Stiles may or may not be real… she didn't like that.

If she was missing Stiles so much, she'd have to fight hard enough to bring him back. Later that night, she had to do her own research. The storm outside her house made her feel uneasy. She remembered that Liam mentioned that the ghost riders move through lightning and it was raining hard.

The more she did her research on the Wild Hunt, the more she was sure that there could be a chance to bring back Stiles.

She'd have to.

Hours and hours pass by and she's barely able to keep her eyes open. She welcomed the sleepiness, easily falling into the slumber.

"Sammy! Hey, Sam!", she hears and opens her eyes. Squinting her eyes from the bright setting in front of her, she saw a little boy's smile. She could barely see his face, but she recognized the smile.

Why? Was this another memory vision? She heard his laughter and another boy's. The other boy, however, she recognized to be Scott. A younger Scott.

So they were best friends. All of them?

"Sam, you have to remember.", she hears the first voice say. She frowned. "I'm trying."

"You have to.", it repeated. "I'm trying!", she yelled. "I want you to be real! I want you to be here! I want my life back!", she cried into the blinding abyss.

"You have to find me…", she heard before waking up, slightly out of breath. It was morning already and she was more than frustrated.

The old woman's words rang through her head again. "All stops have been canceled."

She was running out of time.

Getting ready for school, she quickly drove her there, meeting up with Scott and the others.

"Everyone from the bunker has been taken.", she heard Scott say once she walked up to them.

"Everyone?", Mason asked, shocked. "How?"

"It doesn't matter how.", Liam said.

"Where's Malia?", Sam asked, gaining their attention. Scott frowned.

"Malia is at the hospital. Argent's been hurt.", Scott said. "My mom's with them." Sam frowned. They were really losing.

If the ghost riders are too strong… how were they gonna be able to bring Stiles back and protect the others that got targeted?

Scott and Sam drove to the hospital to check on the statuses for both Malia and Chris Argent. On the way, Sam glanced at Scott as she drove. "I had a dream last night and you were in it.", she said, gaining his attention.

"Really?", he asked. She nodded. "You were younger. You knew me. You and another boy. I can only hope that the other boy was Stiles. Somewhere in my conscience… Stiles is real."

Scott frowned. He wanted to believe that too. He wanted to believe that they were fighting for a good purpose. To bring someone, that they couldn't really remember, back. From the dead or otherwise, it was a heavy thing to bare.

As they arrived at the hospital, they walked in and found Melissa McCall and Malia with another nurse as she pushed Argent back on his hospital bed.

"Mom, is he alright?", Scott asked. Melissa sighed. "He has blunt force trauma to his temporal bone, three broken ribs, and multiple surface lacerations which seem to be from…whip marks?"

Argent groaned a bit, wincing in pain. Scott walked towards him, ready to help him heal, but was stopped by his mom. "What he needs is a lot of rest.", she said and he frowned, nodding.

Behind them, they heard heels headed towards them and saw a stressed Lydia. "What happened?"

Malia spoke up. "The Ghost Riders took everyone. We barely slowed them down."

Scott shook his head. "Tell us you found something."

Lydia looked at the three sadly. "I found out Claudia never had children. So, Stiles can't be her son."

"What about a relic?", Malia asked and Lydia shook her head slowly. "There never was a Stiles, was there?"

Scott frowned, a shift in his eyes. "It doesn't even sound like a real name."

Sam frowned looking between Lydia and Scott. "Scott, I told you about my visions. This isn't something to give up on. We've come all this way."

"Yeah.", Lydia nodded in agreement. "We have to keep looking. Check the school records again. Or call Scott's dad."

"We're fighting the wrong battle.", Malia said.

"We're trying to bring Stiles back.", Lydia said.

"The Ghost Riders came back. We still have no way of stopping them. And whatever they are, they're real." Malia sighed. "We can't keep chasing someone who isn't."

Scott agreed with Malia. "He didn't leave anything behind."

"Just us.", Lydia whispered. Sam took a step back from them, her eyes stinging. "So that's it? We just give up? Since when have we done that?"

Scott frowned at Sam. "Sam–"

Sam held her hand out to stop him. "No. Because I have a feeling this isn't the first time you gave up on him."

Scott looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. She looked at all three of them. "I am so sick of everyone telling me that I need to move on or forget about him or forget the littlest speck of his existence. It's affecting my life as well as yours. And if we give up, shit isn't gonna be the same anymore."

She shrugs. "I dunno about you guys, but I would rather my life go back to the way it was than how it is now. I really think I'd prefer that over this bullshit."

Lydia frowned. "Sam–"

Sam turned to Lydia. "You were never like this. Helpful. Willingly helpful. Not unless it benefited you. But you changed. Why do you think so?"

Lydia's mouth shut. Sam lifted her hands to slap against her thighs as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Hell, I even find the story of Jackson moving out of nowhere complete bullshit. At least not without you obsessing over him.", she said with a humorless chuckle.

Sam turned to Scott. "And you. We were friends when we were kids. We were. That dream was enough to tell me that and that picture is enough proof to me that somehow we are all friends. And that Stiles exists."

She shook her head lightly, a watery smile coming her face, "I can barely remember what he looks like, but he was there. He was there and he was telling me that I have to remember him. That I can't forget him.", she said, blinking back her tears. "So I won't. And I'll keep fighting because that's what friends do."

"Sam," Scott said. "We still need to focus on The Wild Hunt. We need to find a way to protect–"

"How the hell are we gonna fight the Wild Hunt and protect everyone when we let Stiles slip through our fingers without a fight?!", Sam yelled, overwhelmed now.

"There were a lot of people we disappointed and didn't save.", Sam said, her eyes burning with tears once more as she shook her head. "And I regret it every day. Matt, Allison, Erica and Boyd…", Sam said, making Scott's eyes widen.

The four went silent.

"How'd you know about Allison?", Scott muttered. Sam froze. How did she know…? Why did she list so many people as if she didn't know them? But she knew them? How?

"I-I don't know…", Sam said. "But this is what I mean. Everything's all jumbled up, and I feel like I'm missing so much more."

She looked down at her feet. "I feel like I'm missing so much. How did I become a werewolf? How did I get in your pack? How did all of this even happen?", she asked before looking up at the three before her.

"Everything's in bits and pieces for me and I can't get over that. Having memories that have holes in them isn't a good feeling. Which is why we have to bring Stiles back."

Scott frowned, a sigh exiting his nose. He didn't understand the girl or her ambition to bring this Stiles back. It didn't make any sense. None of it did.

Sam backed away. "I'm gonna keep fighting. You want to give up on him? Fine. But if he's the reason why I have the memories I have now, then I'm gonna fight to make them whole again.", she said and left the three in the hallway.

Getting in her car, she drove back to the school's parking lot and parked into an empty space. She took a few deep breaths and sighed. Sitting in the parking lot, she had one vision flash in her mind that confused her.

It was night. She remembered seeing an unconscious Deaton in the back of a black Camaro. She remembers a jeep. Someone in a leather jacket. A boy standing beside Scott. She still couldn't see the boy's face or hear their voices.

It was frustrating. The vision would just end with them outside.

Why?

She took another deep breath and got out of the car, deciding to walk around the parking lot. Why did she have that vision? Why would she be out in the school's parking lot at night with an unconscious vet in the backseat of the car?

What the hell happened?

Snapping out of her thoughts, a speck of light blue caught her sight and she looked to her right to see a lone light blue jeep.

She frowned, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. Walking over to the jeep, it looked so old and banged up.

She ran her fingers from the hood to the passenger side where she could feel a little dent that made her shiver as well as causing her head to throb a bit.

She closed her eyes, hearing the same voice from before ringing through her head.

"Don't disrespect the baby!"

Her eyebrows rose.

"Hey, don't bleed out all over the seats, okay?"

She smiled a bit.

"Do you see the piece of crap jeep I drive?"

Her smile grew. "Hi, Roscoe.", she says.

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quidfree · 6 months

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It's mentioned in one of the extras in bnha (by Horikoshi himself) that Bakugou isolates himself on the path to greatness as a defence mechanism since he's actually a sensitive soul...

You've written the 🌟best🌟 true to character Bakugou in all the fanfics I've ever read, so I wanted to ask how you balance Bakugou's brashness with his sensitivity, and his harshness with his specific brand of kindness. He has strong moral code/values that he staunchly follows but that's still different from the occasional bouts of care he shows to people.

Thank you 😊

hmm you know i don't know if i think that's the best 'in' to bakugou's character because while he is sensitive to a degree (dramatic crier, big emotions, not a bad people reader if he cares) i really feel like that quote is sort of overplaying that angle. bakugou's definitely got his depths but i'm leery of leaning too far into the idea he's some kind of scintillating empath that no one gets.

in terms of characterisation i'm glad you feel that way! i've written breakdowns of my characterisation before so those would be a good starting point on my analysis. but to your specific points, and focusing on teen canon bakugou:

so his base attitude is like….. constant intense commitment to his goals (🤝bakudeku) mixed with pretty solid awareness of self (will elaborate). which means at repose he’s just super serious & then you layer in the brash persona (not feigned, just exaggerated and sometimes blustering, lot of it comes from (unjustly lol) holding everything to his standard). that’s base level bakugou i think. he gets half the personality from his mom & the other is all his.

by self aware i don’t mean he’s like psychologically healthy. but he has a good grasp of his own abilities and skills. early days his blind spot are his limitations but that’s mostly bc up to that point he’s never been confronted with the fact he has any. that’s why he’s allowed so much arrogance / confidence, even when facing down sports fest or the league. he knows what he can do. rmr even early on he got worried when seeing todoroki’s abilities; he’s pissed at him at sports fest bc he’s well aware that would have been a fair fight. by now in canon that’s obviously reached a more mature self-awareness.

ig that’s kind of tied to the sensitivity point. i think bakugou isn’t bad with people; he does have a good read on them & has established leadership skills (amplified once he stops being so domineering; he and izuku have long been coded as 1A coleaders). that said younger bakugou certainly did not give a shit abt other people’s interiority so hes not exactly a bleeding heart lol. i think he’s more perceptive than empathetic (can understand but does not relate), which colors his nicer moments- and i say that with love, bc i think that’s more interesting.

bakugou is just a harsh / brash guy- very direct, abrupt and in your face with it. that’s his fighting style, his personal style, his communication style, even his choice of hobbies; he doesn’t tolerate wishy washy bullshit and isn’t one for niceties. that said he can keep in line / watch his approach around authority figures, bc he’s a pretty pragmatic guy. that also comes thru in his fighting. he will mouth off within reason.

the interpersonal struggle for him is that in UA he was forced out of his top dog role real quick and it made him extra aggro/tsundere bc he spent way too long only interacting w peers from a superior position or as extras, so having to connect on a genuine level w people he would once have seen as below him feels weird and overly exposing. it obviously starts going better for him as development marches on, especially when there’s like a concrete common goal involved. i think he’s consciously trying to find a happy medium by later in canon- see the ‘casual’ way he hangs around cracking jokes abt dabi when they’re trying to support todoroki, snarky but present. from what i gather his current default is to veer overly serious but that’s also bc canon is very Dark and Serious rn.

the moral code thing is funny bc OG flavor bakugou has less of that and more of an understanding of the rules he’s playing by to win. the league disgusts him bc theyre baddies yes but also bc they’re losers. bc bakugou at that point is an asshole teen bully who told his childhood bestie he was less than nothing as a daily hobby, and i don’t doubt that he could have gone down the endeavor route had he not had common sense knock him around a few significant times. that said he does certainly always have sort of a personal code of, idk, self-discipline and aiming to exceed all expectation, but that ties back to what i’ve already addressed. anyways by present day he’s obviously recalibrated his moral compass massively but it’s always most interesting to me in the minor personal detail- for example, his kneejerk “my mom used to knock me around and i’m fine!” reaction to justify beating kids up but then begrudgingly letting todoroki lead their approach because he recognises his input on the subject. it’s consistent writing because it’s not that he’s a perfect saint now, but he is growing.

this is very long and very late, but tldr those are my takes on your questions!

to me bakugou is one of the best written parts of bnha, but he is a complicated character to get right if you don’t have a good handle on why he works so well- i don’t know if i’ve made that more or less confusing for you but i’m hoping the latter.

#qui parle #qui repond #anon #katsuki bakugou #bnha #ref #writing #qui ecrit

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thedawningofthehour · 8 months

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Come to think of it, I'm very curious to know what Donnie/Galois' thoughts will be about his brothers when he finally realizes the truth, after all Draxum made him believe that he was the only survivor of his lot and I doubt very much that he's going to remember everything at once.

Also I hope that when he is stable enough he decides to at least continue with the plan to change society, but you know, without the genocide part. Because Draxum might be a narcissistic mansplain manipulate manwhore, but he has a point. And hey, it would even be easier now that he'd have his brothers by his side.

You know, I'm really glad you decided to leave Pax out of the chapter, I don't know if I could have stood the urge to punch something at the mention of him in the room, I still firmly believe he should get some sort of punishment at the end of it all.

And speaking of punishment, I really REALLY hope Draxum doesn't die. Why? So he can spend the rest of his life thinking about what he did and how it was HIS actions that got him where he is.

I feel like this is where I've dropped the ball, not writing Pax into anything. My original intent was to have him bopping around in the background pretty frequently during Galois chapters. Show off their little nerd-outs over sci-fi stuff, ways he looks after Gale, just little details to show he truly does love his cousin.

But Pax is hard to write for, considering he doesn't speak. And this fic is so fucking long already, it always just seemed unnecessary and detracting from whatever the chapter was about.

Also, just a reminder, Pax was like seven or eight when his parents were killed. Draxum was his parent for most of his childhood. He never saw the relatives on his father's side after that because he was so terrified of humans, and there were no other relatives on his mom's. His sister has been off being a mess herself and hasn't exactly been there for him. Add to that Draxum's decision to homeschool him for several years, not push the talking thing, all of which further isolated him from peers, kept him from pursuing many therapies-Draxum was the only support he had until he was roughly Gale's age, and even then it was rough. It's not an excuse for what he does, but that's why he goes along with whatever Draxum says. He doesn't see how his uncle could be truly bad anyway. His uncle is intelligent and wise, and not afraid of anything-he obviously knows what he's doing better than Pax does.

#doth asks #pax

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red-apples-stuff · 3 years

Text

Every scar of you is making you more beautiful

Fandom: Demon Slayer

Pair: Iguro Obanai x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst. Comfort. Fluff.

TW: Scars

Short Summary: Falling in love with the insecured snake boy.

Note: I changed a little, just to see how it works. Instead of "she / her" it will be "You". The reader remains a female, but you can change if you want to.

Note 2: The breathing is your choice. But it won't be necessary.

Note 3: It may contain slight manga spoilers.

----------------⚠️MAY CONTAIN MANGA SPOILERS⚠️---------------

It's been a month since you became a Hashira, and more exactly, it's been a month since you have a crush on the Serpent Hashira, Iguro Obanai, and you couldn't talk to him.

Okay, you talked a little. Actually, you two are just saying "hello" to each other when you meet random. From what you noticed, he is not very open in communicating, so you don't have much to talk to him to open topics of discussion. However, something about him made you fall in love with him.

Iguro is a mysterious man, and that caught your eye. Besides the heterochromatic eyes, the bandages that covers his mouth 24/7 attracted your attention the most. Even when he eats, he cannot be seen without bandages, because he is isolated at his residence, or he is sitting and hiding up in a tree with thick branches and leaves, where he cannot be seen.

One advantage you have is the mutual friend you and Obanai have, Mitsuri. Mitsuri knows a lot about him and tells you when it's just the two of you. It's just that the advantage is sometimes no longer an advantage, but a disadvantage, if it makes sense what I said.

She tells you anything about him, except the secrets that Serpent Hashira doesn't want people to know, for example, why his face is bandaged?

Whenever you tried to ask Mitsuri about it, she would always tell you, "I'm sorry. I know you're not going to tell this secret to anyone, but I really don't want to say anything I'm not allowed to say. I promised to keep my mouth shut."

Even if she can't tell you, out of common sense and respect for her snake-loving friend, she tries to help you as best she can and comes up with all sorts of ideas. You still haven't put any ideas into practice, because you're too scared not to annoy the Snake Pillar.

Until today apparently.

You see, most of the Pillars went on missions, and there were only 3 left, you, Mitsuri and of course, Obanai.

"Y/N!!!!" you instantly turn to the source of the noise, watching the Love Pillar approach you, super excited.

"No." that's all you say before you get back to work. Mitsuri stops next to you and pouts.

"But I haven't said anything yet."

"I'm not going to do any of your plans. I don't want to upset or annoy Iguro-san."

"At least listen to me!!!!!!!!" she grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you until you turn your attention to her.

"Fine..." you sigh and listen to her.

"So... I just saw Iguro-san in a tree, so it means he doesn't have any missions. Why don't you go talk to him now? It will be just the two of you."

"I don't know... What if I mess it up...?" you look at her, insecured, thinking far too much about the consequences.

"Just go!!!!! If you don't risk you won't win!!!!" Mitsuri pushes you from behind, in the direction where she came from. All you can do is sigh again and go there.

As you walk down the path, you notice in a tree, the tail of a certain albino snake.

"Kaburamaru..." you cursed under your breath, knowing that if he notices you, Obanai will realize that you're there, and you're not exactly ready to talk to your crush.

Suddenly, you hear the rustling of the leaves, so you look to see where it comes from. When you realized it's from the direction of the tree where you saw Kaburamaru, you panic and hide behind a tree. You wait a few seconds until you hear a thud, then footsteps, a sign that the heterochromatic eyed boy has come down from the tree and walk away, then you peers behind the tree to see if he's gone. There is no sign of Obanai, which causes a gap in your chest, knowing that you missed an opportunity to talk to him.

Or so you think...

"And who do you think you're spying on, exactly?" when you hear a voice behind you, you slightly jump and turn around. With wide eyes, you look at the Snake Pillar you thought he left, and oh boy, he doesn't look happy at all. You can see the annoyed look on his face.

You try to talk to him, but the words stop in your throat and no sound comes out.

"I'm listening." he speaks calmly as he leans against the tree, waiting for you to speak.

"I-... I was just walking around! I wasn't spying on anyone!" it would have been a good lie if you weren't hiding behind the tree a few seconds ago.

"Then why did you hide behind the tree when you saw Kaburamaru?" he looked you hard in the eyes, almost piercing into your soul.

"Because-.... I thought it was another snake...?" another lie that could be credible, if not everyone sees you at some point trying to catch a venomous snake next to Butterfly Residence, so you are clearly not afraid of snakes.

"Lies!" he raises his voice to you. Iguro comes towards you and grabs you by the haori, then pulls you onto your feet. He looks at you from above, you being shorter than him, and analyzes you.

"I ask you one more time, and this time answer me honestly... What were you doing here?" he raises his voice to you again.

You took a deep breath, then began to answer.

"I came here because... I wanted to talk to you. Mitsuri told me to come and talk to you, but only when I got here I saw Kaburamaru and I lost my confidence... and decided to hide." you replied, ashamed and embarrassed by the situation.

"Why did you want to talk to me? And why did she send you here?" he lets you go to haori, but his gaze still pierces your soul.

"Because I wanted to spend time with you and because I'm really curious to why you always have those bandages..." you look at the ground, not being able to stare at your crush, feeling so stupid that you managed to piss him off.

Iguro is taken aback by these words.

"What...? Why? Why would you want to stay with me?" he looks at you a little shocked.

"Because..." you hesitated a little, then took a deep breath and continue.

"I have feelings for you... Since I got here I have them... But I preferred to ignore them at first, knowing that I will have no chance with you... Until they start to get stronger and-..." you can't finish the whole idea because you can see out of the corner of your eyes how Obanai is becoming more and more tense and uncomfortable, his hands trembling slightly.

"Stop lying to me..." he whispers, you barely heard what he is saying. You raise your head and look into his eyes, his gaze showing only disgust, disappointment, but also sadness.

"Stop telling lies like that. Don't play with my feelings. Don't tell what's not true." spit out the words as if a venomous snake spit out the venom.

"But there are no lies..." you feel tears begin to form in your eyes, but you struggle to hold them in place. Your heart starts to break in your chest, realizing that this was not the conversation you wanted with him at all.

"There are no lies! It's the truth!"

"Stop it! Even if your feelings are real, it will evaporate the moment you see what's under the bandages!" he angrily grabs the bandages that are on his face, then takes them off. You look in shock at his face, seeing the huge scars he has at the corners of his mouth close to his ears.

"Exactly what I was saying..." he turns and walks away from you.

"They're... beautiful..." you whisper the words, but Obanai hears them and turns to you again.

"Didn't you hear me? Don't lie to me." he answers calmly again.

"What do you see beautiful about these scars?" he looked into your eyes again.

"Everything." Iguro tilted his head slightly and looked at you confused and skeptical.

"I-I mean... They are part of you. You wouldn't be you without them. Each scar makes us more special. It is not a shame to have something like that, whatever is the reason for them. You are beautiful with them or without them." At this moment, he can see all the sincerity in your eyes.

A few minutes is just silence between you two. That's until the Snake Pillar approaches you again. You're ready to hear him screaming at you again, saying that you're lying, but that's not happening.

"Thank you..." you notice how all the hate and the rest of the negative feelings in his eyes have just turned into sincerity and softness. He suddenly pulled you towards him and takes you in his arms, hugging you tightly to his chest.

"No problem." you smiled sweetly and softly at him, hugging him back.

After a few minutes in this position, he lets go of you.

"And I'm sorry about what just happened... I have feelings for you too... But I was scared that you would be terrified when you will see me like this..." he looked away, embarrassed.

You stand on tiptoes and kiss his cheek, exactly where his scar is.

"It's ok." you start giggling when you see that his cheeks have turned a little pink.

"How about we take it from the beginning and just talk, how did you want it at first? We can go to my residence to drink a tea." he puts his bandages back on his mouth, not wanting anyone else to see him without them.

"Sure." you take his hand and he pulls you softly after him, to his residence. Meanwhile, Kaburamaru, who has stood on a tree branch the whole time, above both of you, lets himself fall on Obanai shoulders. The snake touches you lightly on the shoulder with his tail, making you turn your head in Obanai's direction, then do the same thing with his owner, both of you looking at each other now, your faces extremely close.

Obanai blushes badly now, while you're laughing. You then stopped laughing and decided to press a light kiss on his bandaged lips.

*Obanai.exe has stopped working*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #x reader #y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #fiction #writing #obanai x y/n #iguro obanai #iguro x reader #iguro obanai x reader #demon slayer x reader

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dekalko-mania · 2 years

Text

Why does Birch Tree draw and describe his 20 yo Danny as if he were already on the brink of maturity ?

Like his 25 yo Danny sketches make him look like he's got accelerated aging, 12 houses under his belt, and a penchant for Facebook mom or fitness "on the grind" posts

Sir Birdman, I don't where you've been but 20 year olds definitely do not know wtf they're doing. He describes older Danny as if he's already got his shit together, and is this absolutely perfect ghost fighter just because he's in his 20's

Literally who put it into older creator's minds that "coming of age" experiences stop once you hit your 20s? So many 20 yos are literally just trying to find themselves and getting by. My younger sister went on campus with me and literally asked "why does everyone look tired and done?" Cause they are bro, everyone's stuck in limbo between their teen years and adult ones. People are trying to figure out what they want to do for the rest of their lives.

What I'm getting at is, the og 14 yo Danny was made pretty relatable to kids his age when the show came out, all things considered. He dealt with bullies, plummeting grades, having crushes, etc.

20 yo Danny should be the same. He should still be relatable, even if he is a super-powered half ghost. He shouldn't look and act like he's got his shit together because that's just not realistic to most people his age

Heck give me college Danny or something. How does he deal with fighting ghosts on top of not flunking his classes, switching majors, not getting enough sleep, being head of astronomy club, having a part time job, figuring out wtf he wants to do, etc. Does he want to fight ghosts the rest of his life? Will he find an alternative means of dealing with them more diplomatically? Is he okay with dropping all dreams of becoming an astronaut to continue being Phantom? Is dropping it going to leave an unfulfilled void in him for the rest of his life or is he going to come to accept it?

And what about his parents? No matter what happy ending he's trying to paint, you don't just drop 20+ years of prejudice just like that. Is there still some animosity between them and Danny over the topic of ghosts? Are they learning and adapting? Will they just go along with what he says or will they want to force Danny to fit into the ghost fighting mold they've always lumped their children into now that they know he's actually very capable?

What about Sam and Tucker? Birch makes it seem like it'd be so easy and expected of them to always be on Team Phantom. Didn't they have other dreams or aspirations too? What are they giving up to continue fighting ghosts?

Tucker has been shown before to feel insecure because he's always treated as the sidekick. How have these feelings developed? Have they addressed it among friends? He has to figure himself out too. And Sam-she's an activist at heart. Is she going to give up on that to be part of Team Phantom 24/7? Is she going to try juggling both? Are her overbearing parents REALLY okay with her pursuing this path? When they see she's continuing even as an adult, will they begin to financially manipulate her as many rich parents do, or will they let her go her own way?

How has growing older caused the trio to react? Are they splitting apart since each have aspirations that don't exactly coincide? Are they trying to make it work? At what point did they realize that hunting ghosts at 14 is not the same as doing it when they become adults? And at what point did they also realize that taking on this battle so young has made their path to growing up so profoundly different from the rest of their peers? And what about Jazz wanting to be a psychiatrist? Will she continue that path or meld it with ghost hunting? She mentioned in Reality Trip that she feels overshadowed by her parents obsession with ghosts. Do their parents now pay more attention to Danny (even if it's not in a positive way) than her and make her feel more isolated in her own family?

All these things are extremely important. They STILL have to be finding themselves and dealing with shit in their 20s. Danny will most definitely 100% not be the perfect superhero stereotype just because he's a bit older. And while we're on the topic, Birch has a habit of making every other character's lives revolve completely on Danny. Yes he's the protagonist, but that's just not realistic either. They're their own characters so please take the time to flesh them out well and not just assign them a role and say "so this is Danny's sidekick."

I'm saying all this as someone in their early 20s who's tired at how the media portrays us lmao. Social media as well sometimes portrays 20s as already having to have accomplished something huge. And if you haven't, you're falling behind or you're a loser. As if we don't have enough pressure on us already.

Also whoever told these writers 20s are mature briefcase users is the biggest liar on the planet. Literally my 3rd year of college half the fucking campus gathered around a fountain waving their phones around because rumor spread that a rare Pokémon was there. Shenanigans never stop bruh

If the show idea were ever to be picked up, they gotta add these things to 20s DP characterization or its just not realistic. Js.

Anyway, rant over lmao

#danny phantom #danny fenton #shenanigans and life crisis still continue in your 20s yall #did i go off this hard about a non existent continuation of danny phantom #yes i did and what about it 🤧#literally saw tv as a kid and rememberes thinking damn im gonna have all my shit together once i hit 18 #ima have a house and be doing so good and be rich #current me @ past me: no tf u aint bitch #and neither are these fictional characters 😤😤😤😤

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 3 years

Text

Every Emma Woodhouse Ranked and Rated

With all my reviews of all the period-set adaptations now finished, I'm beginning my series in which I rate and rank each interpretation of all the principle characters, starting with our girl Emma!

Now I wanna be clear--I am not rating the actresses that played Emma. I am rating how the character was handled in general in each adaptation. The actresses are a factor, but they're not the sole factor, since the writer and director have as much, if not more, to do with how the character ends up in the finished product. So without futher ado, let's rank...

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her….

“The real evils indeed of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much of her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself; these were the disadvantages that threatened alloy to her many enjoyments.”

NUMBER 5: 1972

Portrayed by: Doran Godwin

Age at time of filming: 28

Clocking in as the oldest actress to play Austen’s famously TWENTY-ONE year old heroine (at the ripe age of 28), Doran Godwin also snags the coveted position as inhabiting the worst portrayal of the character (in my personal estimation) to date.

Just about everything about this interpretation of Emma Woodhouse is bad, from her seemingly automated recital of her lines to her all-too-intense, wide-eyed, hypnotic stare. The 1972 portrayal of Emma highlights all the character’s worst qualities while also failing to convincingly communicate her good qualities, such as her caring nature. The script is equally to blame for the awfulness of this interpretation, adding unnecessarily cruel and condescending lines, including one where she negs Harriet for being sad after Elton’s marriage, and then forces Harriet to come with her to meet the new Mrs. Elton, when Emma in the book did her best to shield Harriet from exactly that kind of situation.

Godwin couldn’t pass for 21 if her life had depended on it, and the worst part is that the script actually states Emma’s age, so she seems like a bit of a crazy spinster, preying on the naïve Harriet. Whether it’s her intent to bathe in Harriet’s blood to keep herself young, or to bake her into a pie is up for debate.

Rating: 1/5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 4: 2020

Portrayed by: Anya Taylor Joy

Age at time of filming: 23

I thought long and hard about this. This movie is a modern period drama phenomenon. It’s gotten so many people into Jane Austen and satisfied long-time Austen fans by giving them an interpretation they never dared hope to see. It’s a gorgeous film.

But I don’t like this interpretation of Emma Woodhouse. Though Anya Taylor Joy is one of the youngest actresses to play Emma (only two years older than the character) she’s played with a careful stiffness that perhaps shows us a glimpse of the Lady Catherine she might turn into without swift intervention. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and this isn’t a commentary on Anya Taylor Joy either—her appearance or her acting ability—but I just don’t like her as Emma. And she’s not the sole problem, she turns in a solid performance, she’s a good actress, but something about this characterization is just off-color to me. Anya Taylor Joy plays a great mean-girl; but I think that’s one of the reasons why they thought she’d be a good choice for this role, and it’s one of the prime reasons I don’t think she wasright for it. Emma is a deeply flawed character and, of course, the biggest turning point in her story comes as a result of a thoughtlessly mean remark to someone who has only ever shown her deference, hospitality and gratitude.

All that said, Emma is not, at her core, a cruel person. Emma has gone all her life thinking condescending things about Miss Bates but it’s only when Frank comes along and validates her less kind commentaries that she actually starts to voice them in search of validation from a peer.

The problem with this in the context of 2020’s Emma Woodhouse is that Frank hardly gets a look-in in this adaptation. Emma’s relationship with him is severely underdeveloped and the actors don’t have enough chemistry to pull it off in the limited time they’re given. The result is that Emma appears to cross a line just to cross it, and it pushes Emma’s character from thoughtless to out-and-out frigid.

Still better than Doran Godwin, since she's identifiably human.

Rating: 2 1/2 / 5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 3: 1996 (MIRAMAX)

Portrayed by: Gwyneth Paltrow

Age at time of filming: 24

Despite the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow was an appalling casing choice for Emma Woodhouse (I will be forever salty that they passed over Joely Richardson), and I know there are some who will think me, at best, crazy (sacrilegious, at worst) for ranking 1996’s interpretation of Emma higher than 2020, I actually feel that solidly in the middle is right where this version of the character belongs.

There’s so much wrong with this Emma: she swings from mature to bizarrely infantile at the drop of a hat, much of her script is genuinely tragic, Gwyneth can’t convincingly portray Emma's social naiveté, her accent is overwhelmingly nasal and impossible to listen to, just for starters.

And yet… I don’t hate her. I don’t like her particularly either, but even though much of the dialogue re-working butchered Austen’s prose, there are a lot of things McGrath seems to have gotten right about Emma’s character. Her relationship with Knightley feels comfortable and playful, and, while Emma of the book probably doesn’t really care for Harriet Smith in the spirit of true bosom friendship, I believe she does care about her and wishes to spare her (further) pain. She shows exasperation with Harriet while still being patient with her, which is very much in the spirit of the book. Her concern for Harriet at the ball feels real, and her contrition at Box Hill following Knightley’s rebuke, while not profound, at least feels like contrition and not self-pity.

Perhaps, given the soft-take that the Miramax version is, it shouldn’t be surprising that the biggest faults in characterization rest on awkward writing and the biggest triumphs highlight Emma’s better side. It’s not a very in-depth take on the character, but it at least, is an adequate one.

Rating: 3/5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 2: 1996/97 (ITV)

Portrayed by: Kate Beckinsale

Age at time of filming: 23

Those who’ve read my reviews of each adaptation of Emma might be surprised to see ITV’s portrayal of the title character sitting so high on my list. To be frank, it’s a distant second, and she may have stolen the number two spot only because she’s played by Kate Beckinsale and not Gwyneth Paltrow.

In truth, I see a lot of parallels between 1997’s Emma and 2020’s. Both actresses were 23 (or thereabouts) when they played the role, both have extremely childish moments, and both crumple down and burst into tears that don’t feel entirely genuine after Box Hill.

So why is 1997 on the good side of the number 3 spot and 2020 isn’t? I’m not precisely sure. I think it may be because Andrew Davies (and/or Diarmuid Lawrence) at least understood the scale of Emma Woodhouse’s wealth and status. This Emma feels sufficiently self-important, a bit haughty, sure—but she’s also believably naïve. You feel her isolation, you understand her caring relationship with her father, and she’s not as patently rude to Robert Martin compared to the 2020 version (she at least acknowledges his presence when he meets Emma and Harriet in the lane).

Grudging though this favorable placement may be, I can at least acknowledge that Emma herself is the least of my problems with this version, and even though Beckinsale’s acting is a bit sketchy at certain points, she also has some truly great moments, especially her interaction with Robert Martin at the end of the film. This portrayal is consistent, and Emma’s better qualities aren’t overpowered by her negative ones.

Rating: 4/5 Half-finished portraits

Number 1: 2009

Portrayed by: Romola Garai

Age at time of filming: 26

And in a shocking twist—I’m kidding this is neither shocking nor unexpected to anyone who knows me or has read my blog/reviews of the Emma adaptations. Am I totally biased? Probably. I don’t care, this is a completely subjective list. Here, finally—my first and true love as Emma Woodhouse—is Romola Garai. I suppose it’s also not surprising that the first actress I ever saw in the role would still be my favorite a decade on. I just love everything about this interpretation of the character. She rides the very difficult line of being bright, caring and intelligent, while also being completely naïve and lacking in social savvy (in her own age-group at least), coddled, and painfully sure of her own self-importance.

Even though Garai was 25 or 26 at the time (far too old for the character—almost as old as Doran Godwin) her energy and charisma are enough that she’s able to carry it off convincingly. Everything about this Emma screams youth, and when Emma’s child-like social ignorance is her most prominent characteristic, it feels authentic and natural. Equally authentic are her emotions—her love for her family, her dynamic with Knightley, he exasperation, patience, and concern with Harriet. Most of all though, this Emma seems to experience the most maturation in the last quarter of the story. Box Hill really feels like a turning point—not just a chastened young woman, but a true coming-of-age moment. Emma faces a reckoning here that begins a chain reaction culminating in her realization of her feelings for Knightley, and everything from the writing to Garai’s performance conveys the magnitude of this shift in Emma’s life.

This version of the character seems the most… complete to me. Somehow, between Romola Garai’s vibrancy, Sandy Welch’s screenplay and Jim O’Hanlon’s direction, this interpretation takes an extremely divisive character and helps the viewer understand just why everyone in Highbury loves Emma Woodhouse.

Rating: 5/5 Half-finished portraits

~~~~

If you liked this, check out my rankings of Mr. and Mrs. Weston

#emma woodhouse #jane austen emma #jane austen #period drama #emma 2020 #emma 2009 #emma 1996 #emma 1972 #romola garai #kate beckinsale #anya taylor joy #gwyneth paltrow

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giaourtopita · 3 years

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oh no i was summoned by a religiously traumatised 17 year old and now i gotta babysit them

i wrote most of this chapter while watching kpop mvs and all i have to say is that the mvs REALLY helped. they kept my brain so stimulated that i couldn't get distracted (for the most part). if you have trouble concentrating maybe try something similar? idk it helped me so i thought i'd share

warnings: religious trauma, isolation/bullying, strict (verbal abusive) parents, angst towards the end.

<previous part

*mc was at school, the bell had just rang but they didn't want to go to the field where p.e. classes were taking place. they were already clowned enough for not agreeing with the teachers and causing fights all the time, they didn't want to be made fun of for their lack of athleticism too.*

*when they finally got there they made up an excuse at the spot and were able to avoid exercise.*

*they went to the back of the school building so they could be in peace on their own. they looked at their grimoire, which they had with them at all times.*

*they looked carefully at the pages, reading small details about the demons satan had told them. before deciding to summon a demon they looked around and were able to find a soccer ball that no one seemed to care about, after that they looked at the snacks they had packed with them and decided they were enough.*

*after doing the spell a tall figure appeared, they were used to seeing all these tall demons but this one was the tallest they've seen so far. he looked intimidating but since satan told them about him they weren't so scared of him.*

*and even if anything happened, both satan and lucifer taught them a few protection spells so they were safe. each of the already summoned brothers told them that they would help.*

*the demon approached them cautiously, not wanting to scare them since he was aware that people found him intimidating due to his height and body mass.*

???: uhm, hi i'm beelzebub. you must be the human that keeps summoning my brothers.

*mc introduced themselves and rushed to get the ball they got a few minutes ago.*

beelzebub: so, why did you summon me? you're at school, shouldn't you be in class right now?

mc: well, right now i am in class. it takes place outdoors and i was convincing enough with my excuse so i'm not participating right now!

beelzebub: well that's not a good thing. do you want to play with that ball?

mc: sure! and i summoned you because, well it's p.e. and from what satan told me you like that stuff. plus, you guys are much more pleasant to spend time with than anyone in this school.

*mc told him while kicking the ball. beel kicks it back while trying to match the power mc used in their kick.*

beelzebub: why is that? humans don't summon demons just to hang out...

mc: well, i don't really get along with the people here, they don't like me and neither do i to be honest. we don't really agree and they make religion sound like it's such a good thing when in reality it's really not. not to mention that a lot of them make me feel uncomfortable with their beliefs.

beelzebub: oh, i see. well, i think it's good thing that you support your opinion so fiercely.

mc: thank you.

*mc said while frowning and kicked the ball using a tiny bit more strength than the last time they kicked.*

mc: wait! don't pass me the ball yet!

*mc ran to their backpack and took out a big packet of biscuits, and signalled beelzebub to come near them.*

*mc took out a few cookies for themselves and gave the rest to the demon.*

mc: here, everyone likes cookies so i got the big packet in case i had someone to share them with.

*the demon sat beside them and before eating he thanked them since was very hungry.*

beelzebub: do you always do that? bringing cookies in case someone wanted to share with you?

mc: well, i don't exactly do it everyday because i know people don't really like me very much but yes sometimes i do bring extra stuff!! did you like the cookies? they're my favourite!

beelzebub: yes, i did! do you want to continue playing?

mc: sure!

*the two continued playing for about fifteen minutes until the weather darkened, mc suggested that beelzebub goes back home because it will probably rain soon.*

*beelzebub said goodbye to them and teleported back to the devildom.*

*mc started walking towards their peers but since they were pretty far away from them, it suddenly started raining heavily. they managed to get inside but they were already soaked.*

*once they got into the classroom, the rest of the students started loughing at them for being soaked. they couldn't think of a reason why people were making fun of them, this could have happened to anyone, mc thought while trying to hold back their tears.*

*they were used to not being liked but this, this was a little excessive. mc packed their school bag and rushed to the principal's office so they could call their parents and go home.*

*when their father got there and mc entered the car, he lost it. he started yelling at them, calling them stupid for staying outside and getting soaked. he started complaining about how he shouldn't have come to pick them up and how they made him seem unprofessional at work and then he started talking about how he was a good parent for coming to get them.*

*they finally got dropped off in front of the their house, their father immediately left and mc was alone again. at least no one will yell at me now, they thought.*

next part >

#obey me headcanons #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me fanfic #obey me fluff #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me angst #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

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“So that’s how you want to play this, love?" | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey My Lovelies! I hope all is well today! I received a request ages ago from @activist-af to do something like this, as you will read below. I honestly aimed to fit the movie night theme in there but it was swallowed up pretty fast! I only meant for this fic to be 3000 or so words but, as it always seems to do, it got away from me.I truly hope that you enjoy this, you've given me an unwavering amount of support these past few months while I was battling a major bout of depression and writers block. I can't repay all the kindness and love you've given me but I hope this is a start! Much love darling! And much love to all of you lovelies! Please have a fantastic evening for me! <3

Please read before continuing: I usually wouldn't write this much before my story but I wanted to add this: this story is my first full blown smut. I'm honestly not sure how well it will go over but I tried to make it as loving and healing as I could. I take my writing very seriously. I know sex for many is a touchy subject, and that truly pains me. I sincerely hope every single one of you reading this feels all the love and saftey I tried to incorporate into this peace. I wish you an eternity of love and healing. Be safe my loves!

Request: "Could u do a mikaelson boys x reader? Any plot really, but I’d very much love it if it was a bit more Kol focused. there’s just such a lack of content for all three of them and I love your writing so much. If u need any plot point ideas maybe a movie night kinda thing? I really hold him a bit higher than the other boys. Or something similar to the fic with the Klaus + Eli being injured? Fluffy ending please, smut is fantastic too 🖤"

Description: Y/n is upset that the boys won't let her come on their mission with them, feeling isolated and useless. Kol is supposed to stay behind and watch out for her however things get heated after she tells him off.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, mainly Kol and Elijah

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! This is a full blown smut, I honestly do not know how it happened, probably 4000/5000 words are pure sex scenes, also there's a bit of fighting/angst at the beginning of the first scene but it doesn't last

Word count: 5343 (I'm so sorry)

Tags: ANGST, SMUT (full on), FLUFF

(Pics aren't mine but the moodboard is :) )

“I really don’t see why you guys are leaving me behind, again,” you run an agitated hand through your hair, huffing indignantly at the two boys in front of you.

Yes, boys. Not men. If they aren't going to treat you like the full grown woman you are then no way in hell are you going to give them any validation either. Even in your head.

“It’s too dangerous,” Elijah’s chocolate eyes are stern, his hands clenching at his sides, “I can’t risk the witches doing anything to you as a way to get to us. You’re too important.”

Your chest warms slightly at his words but it isn’t enough to break down your resolve. Three hundred years under your belt; they’re going to need to do better than that if they want to keep you away. There are only so many times you can stay away from a fight, only so many times you can watch them come home hurt knowing that if you had gone with them then maybe you could have prevented it. You’re a family and you’re tired of feeling like you aren’t pulling your weight.

You narrow your eyes at the tall boy, still not man, trying to peer through all the red you’re seeing, “I’m not a child, Elijah.”

He stares right back, not backing down, his face cut like marble, unwavering. Beautiful but harsh. Stone. He wears a white shirt, the first button popped and the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His veins are prominent and tempting. Elijah means business. You swallow the lump in your throat, pushing away the heat growing in your stomach.

“Love, trust me, we know you aren't a child. Any other time I would gladly rip you upstairs and prove it. Right now, though, I agree with him. You’re staying here,” Klaus’ softer voice pulls your attention from your staring match with the eldest Mikaelson.

He has a leather jacket on, the material clinging tight to his arms, ready to burst. He’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his crystal eyes. He folds his arms neatly in front of him. He’s not going to budge either.

You scoff at him, shaking your head, “I want to come, Klaus. I need to.”

A new voice joins the three of you in the foyer, “I can make that happen, darling, but you’ve got to stay home with me if you want that.”

You don't even need to turn around to hear the smirk on Kol’s voice but you do anyway, meeting the youngest Mikaelson face to face. He has a grin on his lips, one that, in any other situation, would have you weak in the knees. He has a sweatshirt on and a pair of sleep shorts. He’s on babysitting duty, he doesn’t need anything else. You only roll your eyes at him before facing Elijah once more.

“I’m part of this family, too, you know. It should be my choice,” you have to will your voice not to crack, keeping your tone as low and as steady as you can, “I’m not useless, Elijah, as much as you’d obviously disagree.”

You rub your hands over your bare arms, fending off a sudden chill. You feel like there’s ice coursing through your veins. A traitorous tear tracks down your cheek but you make no move to get it. Elijah’s hardened face softens when he notices.

“Baby, come on,” he reaches to grab you but you step back, not allowing him to touch you.

He can’t do that, make the decisions for you. Maybe if you were still human it would be called for but now it’s not. Sure, you aren't a millennium like they are but you’re not a piece of glass either. You’re strong, whether they want to acknowledge it or not.

“Don’t, Elijah,” you back away further, your cheeks drenched but your eyes fierce, “I’ll see you guys in a few days. Be safe.”

You turn and walk away, ignoring all three brothers as they call out to you, heading up to your room before any of them decide to follow you. You close the door, not slamming it but not exactly shutting it gently either. You can hear Elijah sigh from the front hall and you know he’s tugging on his hair. Klaus swears, his frustrated voice floating up to your ears. More tears fall but you brush them away angrily, lifting a pillow from your bed and screaming into it. No doubt they can hear it but, right now, you couldn't care less. The front door shuts and your heart plummets.

You sit on the edge of your bed, gripping your dark comforter tightly. Usually you like being the one they take care of. You like being held, how small they make you feel. Right now, though, it’s too much.

A soft knock draws your attention to the door, Kol’s careful voice cutting through the wood, “darling?”

“Leave me alone, Kol,” you try your best to make your words harsh but you only sound tired.

“Not likely, love,” he presses, “you know I can go all night, now it’s up to you what that means.”

Your cheeks flush and, as if he can see you through the door, he chuckles. The sound echos through your chest, stirring the remains of anger and frustration and mixing them with something hot and untamed. You pull the door open, coming face to face with the smirking Mikaelson.

“Sorry you landed with babysitting duty, Kol, but I’ve kept myself alive for three hundred years now and I’m pretty sure I can handle two more days on my own. Why don’t you go help Elijah and Klaus, yeah? Seeing as you are the only three who can actually do any good. I’m clearly not strong enough to do anything so I’ll just sit here and look pretty and do absolutely nothing at all because I’m useless. Okay?”

With that you close the door in his face. Well, you try to but he wedges his body in the way so you can’t shut him out. Whatever smile had previously been on his face is long gone and in its place sits a deep frown. His brown eyes ice over slightly and he stands taller than he did mere seconds ago. You can feel a switch in the atmosphere and suddenly you’re face to face. You honestly can’t tell which one of you is more pissed off.

“So that’s how you want to play this, love,” he pushes closer to you, “you want to get angry, yeah? Alright darling, I can do that.”

You open your mouth to protest but before any profanities can fly out his lips are on yours, fierce and strong. He uses his foot to kick the door closed, slamming it into place. It’s done merely for effect. No one is home but the two of you. He spins you around aggressively, pushing you roughly against the hardwood. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, no doubt drawing blood. As if on cue a copper taste fills your mouth, drowning your senses in red. This time, though, the anger is mixed with a wicked kind of lust.

Your hands find his hair without your permission, tugging harshly at the roots. He groans into your mouth, a sound that makes you want to slap him across the face and wrap your legs around him all the same. His hand snakes around your waist, squeezing your hip with a fervour that will no doubt leave bruises that will take longer than usual to heal. He pushes against you, every single part of him rock hard.

“God fucking damnit, Kol,” his lips find your throat with painful ease, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth in a way thats just this side of painful over pleasurable.

Right now, though, you crave every bit of pain that Kol lays on you. In a sick way you’re proving that you can take it. That you’re strong enough to do the things that they do. Another flash of red floods your vision when you think of the other two Mikaelson's who refused to let you help. You drag one of your hands down Kol’s back, scratching hard enough for him hiss against your neck.

He jerks away from you quickly, only long enough to rip the sweatshirt over his head before he attacks your neck again. He sinks his teeth in at the same moment he rips your tank top in half, lulling you into that sweet mixture of pleasure and pain, hate and lust once more. His shoulders are deliciously toned under your searching fingers and this time when you drag your nails down his back you know you draw blood. Serves him right anyway.

“Fuck, baby,” he wraps a hand around both of your wrists, pinning your hands above your head, “that kinda hurt.”

You want to claw the smirk off of his face. Or kiss it. You can’t quite decide. His other hand is slowly sliding up your back, inching towards the clasp of your bra. His eyes burn into yours, the inferno behind them nothing less than intense. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears so loud it’s almost hypnotic when combined with the tantalizing draw of his hand. It lulls you into a false sense of security, your eyelids heavy in anticipation. He stops moving when his fingers are about to undo the hooks.

He pushes his hips closer to yours, locking you between his body and the door. His stomach is hot against yours and cut like marble. Your fingers itch to feel every bump and dip with agonizing intricacy. Every inch of your skin is alight, every hair raised waiting for anything to happen. You can feel every breath he takes as if it’s your own, your covered breasts just barely grazing him with each rise and fall of his chest. It’s delicious torture.

“Before we go any further here, I need to know what you want. Do you want some quick fuck that’s going to leave you more angry when it’s done?” He rolls his hips against yours, sending sparks flying through your body at the first real touch you’ve had tonight, “or do you want me to make love to you like you know I can. And make all these terrible feelings go away. It’s your choice, darling?”

His words tangle and knot in the pit of your stomach, weaving through the white hot hatred that had been building in your stomach until it explodes. They hit you right at the source like missiles aimed with the utmost precision to destroy every bit of anger left in you. Tears prickle at the edge of your vision, your senses overloaded from the sudden loss of your fury. All that’s left in its wake is this gut wrenching feeling of not being good enough. It’s the original problem and he just effortlessly broke through to it.

“I,” you tug your bruised lip between your teeth, if only to keep it still, “make it go away, Kol. Please.”

“That’s all I want to do, darling.”

He releases your wrists, opting instead to haul your body into his arms and slamming his lips against yours once more. You waste no time running your freed fingers down his sculpted chest, admiring the way his muscles tense as he holds you up. You push yourself as close to his body as you can get, wrapping your legs around his taught stomach and clinging on for dear life. He kisses you slowly, as if drawing all the negative energy out of your body with his lips.

He walks the two of you backwards towards your bed, sitting on the edge, leaving you straddling his hips in the most delicious way. You push your hips to bring you closer together, wanting to feel every part of him that you can. He meets every movement with his own energy, wrapping an arm around you back to keep you pressed against him. Your body is warming up once more in his arms.

He pulls his lips from yours reluctantly, his hand snaking back to the clasp on your back, “this needs to go.”

You shiver at the light touch of his fingertips on your spine, arching with the click of the hooks coming undone. He pulls the lace from your chest slowly, his thumbs grazing down your arms, memorizing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. His eyes meet yours again and he drops the fabric on the ground next to your bed. His hands, now resting on your hips, trail fire up your stomach as they trace their way over your ribs.

“Kol, please,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, reveling in the warmth of his chest so close to your own, “I need you.”

There’s a glint in his eye again but this time you don’t want to slap him. No this time you want him to do heavenly things to every part of you. You want him to take the last remains of this awful feeling and snuff it out with his mouth. His hands finally crest the remainder of your ribcage, his thumbs teasing the underside of your breasts with tantalizingly careful circles. Tears sting your vision again from all the pent up energy inside of you.

“What shall I do, darling,” his thumbs draw along the sides of your breasts, stoking the untameable fire in the pit of your stomach once more, “tell me how you want me to touch you.”

His fingers dance closer to their target, each stroke driving your brain further into it’s Kol induced frenzy. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell is the boy in front of you.

“Kol,” his name falls from your lips in a desperate moan, “please just do something, god.”

He chuckles, a sound that flows like honey and wraps around every inch of you like silk. His eyes sear into your own, daring you to break his stare but you don’t. You can’t

“Well I could do this.”

His thumbs roll over your hardened nipples, as if to punctuate his words, and you see stars. You don’t even try to stop the moans that tumble from your lips, turning to clay in his hands. You give him free reign to mould your body in any way he desires, as long as hands never leave your skin. He pinches each bud between his fingers gently, pulling more praises from deep within you. His eyes never leave your face, drinking in each expression with unashamed greed.

“Or maybe I could do this.”

You know what’s coming when he leans forward, It’s quite clear what his intentions are. However, what you aren’t expecting is for the first gentle nip to send you so violently crashing over the edge that you have to squeeze your thighs around him to avoid falling off the bed. He doesn’t stop when you cry out and you don't want him to. Every swirl of his tongue around your nipple sends you spiraling further into the sweet oblivion he’s created just for you. He rocks his hips against yours while his mouth assaults you, pressing the delicious hardness against you while you fall apart.

He detaches his lips from your lips when you start to come down from your high, kissing his way up your sternum, over your collar bone, before settling on your throat.

“So beautiful darling,” he pulls your skin into his mouth as if he didn't just get enough just moments ago, “so damn beautiful.”

You press down on his hard length again, pulling a groan from deep within his chest, “I want all of you, Kol. Please.”

That's all the encouragement he needs to flip the two of you over and lay you on your back. He kneels between your legs, hooking his thumbs in your plaid sleep shorts and pulling them off much faster than he had down with your bra. He’s more than warmed up now, something that excites you to no end. You’re left laying in a pair of black lace panties that match the bra on your floor.

Kol’s eyes go dark at the sight, a growl that hardens your nipples again rumbling through the air. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before pulling the lace off of you once more and adding it to the growing pile of clothes. He kisses the junction of your thigh next, sending electricity rippling through your body. It restarts the heat once more and the familiar wildfire rips through your abdomen. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to stand many more orgasms if each one is to be like the first.

“Please just make love to me, Kol, I need to feel you.”

He lifts his head from your thighs, a sight that you will never grow tired of, and his eyes set ablaze, “I was made for nothing more.”

Your heart flutters rapidly in your chest, a warmth spreading like butter over your bones. He kicks his own shorts and boxers off quickly, moving back up your body to rest between your legs. You drink in the heat radiating off his body, allowing it to soothe the remaining ache leftover from your small throw down. His one hand slips under your head, lacing through your hair gently. The other reaches between you, lining himself up against your opening. The slightest touch of him against you is enough to have you mewling his name already.

He teases you slightly, taking his sweet time before pushing in. The first thrust is pure magic, filling you in the way that only Kol can. Each of you boys feel different. Kol lights every one of your nerves on fire with his slow movements. He makes you feel every deliberate movement. He makes you know that every circle of his hips, every time he joins you together is done to perfection exactly how he intends. Kol makes you aware of your entire body and just how much control he has over it.

He pulls back slowly before thrusting back inside of you hard enough to rock your bed into the wall. You clench around him without warning, pulling your name from his lips with mouthwatering ease and sending small shocks through your lower half.

“Christ, baby,” he rocks his hips deeper into yours, burying himself all the way inside you, “how are you so close again already.”

You giggle quietly from underneath him, wrapping your legs around his hips and rolling your own to meet his thrusts. Your hands glide over his shoulders, soothing the scratches you left earlier. You draw his face to your own, pulling his lips down to graze yours. You want him to feel every word you say.

“Don’t play coy, you know exactly what you’re doing,” the end of your sentence is blurred with unrelenting moans.

His hand grabs your leg, pushing your knee to your chest before pushing you into the mattress with a world altering thrust, “you’re right darling, I just like to hear you say it.”

He closes the gap between your lips with another shattering push, your walls clenching harder than before around him again. You swallow each moan that slips from his mouth and into yours. His nutmeg scent clings to you and you know it will take days to scrub him off of you, not that you want to. You could very well spend the next century wrapped up in Kol in every single way possible.

He picks up the pace, slamming into you with controlled ease. Your hands lace through his hair, keeping him as close to you as possible. Your senses are overwhelmingly heightened, allowing you to feel every damned inch of him. You’re in serious danger of falling apart. The fiery ball in your stomach is at its peak once more. When he pulls your lip between his teeth, and you taste the crimson, it explodes.

This time you don't just see stars, you see the sun and the moon and every planet in the solar system. He continues to move in and out of you, drawing out the intensity of your orgasm as he rides his own out. You cling to him with everything you have, refusing to breathe anything but Kol. Everything in this moment is about him and the way he makes you feel. Nothing else matters anymore. Perhaps nothing even mattered before. All there is, all there has ever been, is this one moment.

When you finally land back on earth, he slowly pulls out of you, giving you one last taste of electricity before drawing you to lay on his chest. Your ears ring from the energy you just exerted at Kol’s mercy, your skin deliciously sticky against his own. You're completely and undeniably spent.

You don’t realize that you’re crying until you go to speak, “Kol.”

You feel the sharp inhale he takes rather than hear it. Before you can blink the fresh wave of tears away he’s flipped you around, laying between your legs again and propped up on his elbows. His face is pure concern, his eyebrows creased together in a way that makes you want to smooth every harsh line away. It makes you cry that much harder.

“Darling, talk to me,” he runs a soothing hand down your thigh, pulling you close to him, “what’s wrong baby?”

The tears pour faster at the gentle tone in his voice, drawing an answer to the surface before you even process what you’re saying, “Do they think I’m useless? Do you?”

Your voice is shattered, all the emotions from today coming together in yet another crescendo. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears, drowning out the sounds around you. It’s probably the reason you miss the footsteps pounding up the stairs. You can feel Kol’s soft caresses but just barely. The only thing registering in your mind is the feeling of being completely and utterly weak. Why do they keep you around if you can’t even hold your own?

“God’s no, never. Not even a little bit,” just as Kol speaks, the door opens.

Well, the door slams open, hitting the wall with a crack that echoes through the large house. Kol isn’t startled. He should be but he doesn’t even flinch at the bang. You, on the other hand, tense underneath him, the pounding in your ears still as intense as before. A woodsy scent flows through the now open doorway, pine mingling with your already nutty skin. The pieces start clicking together, albeit at a slower pace than you like.

You’re almost certain you know who’s in the doorway but you look anyway to make sure, “Elijah.”

His name is a whisper and it gets lost under Elijah's own words, his dark eyes searing into yours, “Kol, do you mind giving us a moment?”

Kol glances down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. You plead with him to stay but this is Kol, he’s your hell-raiser. He places a soft kiss on your forehead before he stands, still completely naked, and walks out of the room.

He pauses on the other side of the door, settling a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “careful brother, she scratches.”

Elijah shuts the door when he leaves, much gentler than he had been when opening. Your boys, always the ones for theatrics. He leans against the frame, folding his arms over his chest. You stand from the bed, trying to meet his height but failing. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand but it doesn’t do much to clear the droplets. He tracks your every movement with a fire raging behind his chocolate eyes. You’re painfully aware of how much of your skin is on display for him; that is, all of it.

“What,” you pause when your voice cracks, stealing a moment to compose yourself, “what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be off saving the day.”

He pushes off the door, taking a few steps towards you. You can see he's fighting back a lot of primal instincts. He's as affected by your lack of clothes as you are. His eyes shift rapidly between his usual brown and a deeper coal colour. Despite the situation, you can’t help the heat seeping from between your thighs. He stops a few feet in front of you. There’s no way he can’t smell you right now.

“I was needed elsewhere,” his eyes dip down momentarily, his jaw clenching, “by someone infinitely more important.”

You watch him squeeze his fists together, forcing his eyes to remain on yours. The determination in them is unwavering and fierce. He takes another step towards you.

“It seemed important a few hours ago,” you drop your eyes to your feet, breaking his stare.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him and, in turn, igniting your body, “I assure you it was not nearly as important as making sure that you’re ok.”

Your throat tightens, aching with the promise of even more tears. You wish you could just stop. You’re not afraid to cry but usually you can control it. Right now you can’t. Everything has been building, every little insecurity has pooled, and today was the chip in the damn needed to make the whole thing collapse. It’s too much.

“I’m not,” you wrap your arms tight around yourself, gripping your arms with bruising strength to try and hold back the tremors, “ I am not okay Eli. I feel so helpless. Everytime you come home bleeding and exhausted and where am I?” You run a trembling hand through your mussed hair, yanking at the roots, “Here. Always just here, useless, letting you and Klaus and Kol take it all for me. Am I really that weak? That I’m just extra collateral damage to worry about? What is it, Elijah?”

The words pour from you, each one making him flinch like he’s being hit by an invisible enemy. Every syllable is a bullet to his chest. His body tenses further, his eyes no longer holding any trace of their usual warm brown. Instead they're pitch black, the veins under his eyes a deep plum. The veins in his arms pop as well, his fists iron tight. He curses under his breath when you finish. His voice is gravelly and scrapes the deepest pit of your soul.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, whatever resolve he had been clinging to snaps. He pulls you towards him, wrapping his strong hands around your hips and lifting you against him, giving you a second to wrap your bare legs around his clothed hips.

“Elijah, what are you doing?” You cling to his chest, trying to avoid tumbling out of his arms when he begins walking you towards your bed once more.

He doesn't answer your question, laying you down against your ruffled comforter, “You aren’t collateral damage, baby.”

His voice is the lowest you’ve ever heard it, emanating from somewhere deep inside him. He opens the first few buttons of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head before making it even halfway down his chest. He drops it, much like he Kol had not long before, next to your bed. Kicking off his shoes, he kneels on the bed, coming to rest between your thighs. The heat emanating from you is now a furnace and it in no way goes unnoticed by him. His dark eyes swim across your naked body, drinking in every inch.

“Eli-” whatever you’re going to say is obliterated when he leans down and attaches his lips to the crook of your thigh, dangerously close to being exactly where you need him.

“You aren't weak,” he moves to your other thigh, nipping at the delicate skin and pulling unintelligible murmurs from your throat.

He kisses his way to your center, the anticipation growing like a knot in your stomach, begging to be unraveled once more. Even in the midst of falling apart you can’t get enough of these men. He lays a soft kiss against you, offering you the slightest glimpse of what you know his mouth can do. In the exact same way you had with Kol earlier, every part of you craves Elijah.

Your body arches willingly to meet the first swipe of his tongue, his name falling from your lips like a praise, “you aren't a burden to me, you beautiful creature.”

You cry out as he works his mouth expertly against you, his words humming ecstasy into your skin, melting away any trace of doubt in your mind. His arms wrap around your thighs, bringing you as close to his face as he can get you. The sight of him completely engulfed in your heat is almost enough alone to send you tumbling right there and then over the edge.

“You mean more to me than anything else on this fucking earth,” his dark eyes meet yours as he works you dangerously close to breaking before letting up once more, “and if I have to spend every hour for the next hundred years worshipping you to prove it then consider it done.”

He lowers his mouth against you harder, sucking your electrified warmth with renewed vigour. Your hands seek out his hair, tugging him against you and raising your hips to meet every pass of his tongue. The smell of pine trees and sex envelope you, brining you the closest yet to the kind of high only Elijah can draw from you. In this moment you’re nothing more than entirely his.

“I cannot lose you, baby,” he slips a few of his fingers inside you, “please let me protect you. I need to. Please.”

He curls his fingers just as the last syllable rolls off his tongue and into your core, shattering you into a million tiny pieces. Your hands fist his hair as your body clenches around his hand, pulling a delectable groan from his lips. Your third orgasm almost puts you to sleep on the spot, each of your muscles completely exhausted. Elijah watches you come undone the entire way through, nothing less than reverent awe locked on his face.

He wastes no time pulling your spent body into his arms, wrapping you as close to him as he can manage. You bury yourself against his neck, admiring how even the most unassuming parts of him have an undue amount of strength. He truly is your warrior.

“Eli,” you yawn into his chest, basking in the warmth of his skin, “I can protect myself.”

He tightens his arms around you, “I know you can, baby, but you shouldn't need to. I’ve been searching my entire life for a meaning. A thousand years of trying to be honorable. Then I found you and, all of a sudden, it all makes sense. All the searching and fighting and pain finally has a purpose: to protect you. Let me take it for you. Please.”

You’re speechless, there isn’t anything else to it. His words hit you with immense power, sinking into your skin and settling around your bones. You’re his, all of theirs, to watch over. You really didn't know he felt this strongly. You’ve always had to defend yourself. Perhaps you just aren't used to someone else being so willing to take on that task. Someone begging to take it.

He stands suddenly, with you still in his arms, and walks out of your room, starting down the hall. The faintest sound of rushing water fills your ears, lulling you into a welcome daze.

“Where are we going, Eli?” You have yet to open your eyes, stuck in the soft between being awake and falling asleep.

He kisses your forehead, resting his head on yours, “Niklaus said he wanted to take a bath, my love.”

#the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #to #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #the originals imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson smut #kol mikaelson smut #smut

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 3 years

Text

Of Ice and Blood

Part 3

Hey there! Thank you for taking the time to read this

There are so many left out details here that I did on purpose for future explanation within the fic for the element of mystery I'm trying to brew . Hope you don't mind! Enjoy reading❤

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

1.7k words.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: cursing, violence, injury and fighting.

Without thinking, I drove my fist towards the voice, regretting it the instant I recognized who it was.

Tai'chi.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I found my fist encased in his hand. He seems unfazed by my reaction, seemingly expecting it.

“Oh shi— I’m so sorry!”

How the hell did he sneak up on me without making a sound??

“Feisty- I mean, I should be the one sorry, for startling you...And for following you. I just wanted to, make sure you were alright.”

I blinked. He was concerned?

He spoke up when I didn’t respond.

“So, are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine. Just, disappointed.” I breathed in and sighed as he gently let go of my fist.

Oh, and his scent helps right now. He smells so...wonderful I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve been surrounded by disgusting odors my entire life. I swear I’ve inhaled appealing scents like lilac, sandalwood, cinnamon, even rain has its particular smell! But Tai'chi, he—he’s something else entirely.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else like, I don’t know, maybe getting lunch with some of your friends or in a classroom?” I asked. I wonder why he would even bother to be in my presence. Anyone should be creeped out by the way I spoke up earlier. I mean, who does that? Plus, I did throw a stranger down to the floor. But part of me knows he deserved that.

Definitely.

“Want to talk about it?” He ignored my question. Tai'chi was now sitting cross-legged beside me, the oak’s root in between us. His deep azure eyes studying, watching me carefully.

“What?”

“What you did back there, wasn’t something a plain, timid college girl would do.”

Wait. He knew I was pretending to be one?

“Yes, I knew.”

“You can read minds?!” I stammered out. He can read my mind this whole time?! Shit.

He held up for a second before a boisterous laugh broke out of him and echoed through the circling trees, scaring away some birds perched above. I don’t know if I should be offended or flustered by his guffaw. It was so, so deep and rich and —

What the hell Pearl? What if he's reading your mind??

Tai'chi faced me again, sighing once he calmed down.

“To answer your question, no, I can’t read minds. But like I stated before, your face gives it away. Or your brows since you’re wearing a mask, but I can imagine your expression.”

I let out an incomprehensible noise.

“How did you find out I was pretending to be…you know,” waving my hands around.

“The moment we made eye contact this morning when you entered. And the way you shifted your body at the last second to prevent yourself from plunging into the trash bin, I knew you were something more. Your eyes and your actions show your experience in combat. A skilled warrior would notice these little things right away.”

My jaw fell open, and I’m sure he knows. He left me speechless.

Should I tell him I am a trained martial artist and a weapon wielder?

But we just met like 5 hours ago!

He seems trustworthy. And he’s an orc, didn’t they have a code of honor or something?

My thoughts ran wild I swear Tai'chi could hear my mind, screaming.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t wish to. And I must’ve sounded, creepy when I admitted I’ve been observing you. But before anything else, will you allow me to introduce myself, for real this time?”

“You mean your name isn’t Tai'chi?”

Letting out a chuckle, he replied, “I swear to you, my name is Tai'chi. What I mean is, I want you to know my full name. Do you understand what this implies, Pearl?”

I racked my brain for a moment, trying to recall what my parents said about orc traditions when my uncle, papa’s brother, married the orcess he fell in love with. Something about an orc’s real name being reserved only to those they’re close to?

“I guess so? But what exactly?”

“I want to become your friend.”

I couldn’t help the slight warmth creeping into my cheeks behind my mask. He can’t see it, can he? A friend, he says. A friend!

“Oh,” was all that came out. A pause and;

“Uh, I mean, I’d love to be your friend! I never had an actual friend before. I mean, have cousins, but we aren’t acquainted enough to consider myself their friend— I mean— uh, what should I do?” I blurted out a little rapidly.

He smiled. He actually smiled! Oh, damn, it was adorable!

Tai'chi was about to say something, but he snapped his mouth shut and grimaced. I was confused by his sudden change of mood, along with his scent.

Then it struck me.

The two of us shot up when multiple smells filled the air, making my stomach clench.

We were followed, not just one but six individuals. One of them was the pretentious human from earlier.

My day can’t get any better. And is that a baseball bat? Great. Fucking great.

I swear. I’m cursed to find trouble anywhere I go.

“Hello, freaks.” The guy in the middle began. “Whatcha doin’ out here in the forest?”

The others began spreading out and surrounded us.

“Planning something nasty I bet.” A human to my right spat.

“You will pay for what you did to me, you bitch. Just so you know, my father is the dean of this university. No one will ever hear a word of what I did here and what we will do to you.

'Dean’s son, David Silverstone, assaulted by an insane student in the woods within campus grounds. His friends graciously helping him fight off the lunatic until she passed out and was carried to an isolation chamber for monitoring, later finding out about her severe psychological disorder.’ Now wouldn’t that be a hit in the papers!” The bastard and his companions cackled and snickered, some of them stealing glances between my legs and I felt my skin crawl.

Tai'chi growled lowly, silencing them for a brief moment. He was getting mad but held his ground.

“And you,” the human pointed, “you beast. It won’t be hard antagonizing you, people will no doubt believe you were the one who violated the schoolgirl and left her in the woods to die.”

This fucking—

I felt a hand on my shoulder just as I was about to start, gently gripping, in hopes of trying to calm me down. He knows they were baiting us on making the first move. He shook his head, and an idea popped up.

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to make my voice as girly as possible, sounding so hilarious, like those overdressed, flashy high school girls with flowery perfume so strong I wrenched every time I get a whiff of it.

Provoking them would do.

“Oh, I’m so scared! Should I get on my knees and beg for mercy? Oh please, great and noble one, have mercy on my poor soul.” My voice laced with mockery and sadness, with my legs fake trembling and my arms flailing.

And did Tai'chi just snort?

“If you beg nicely, I will perhaps give you a chance to— ”

My sudden wheezing interrupted him and I laughed. Hard. I can’t believe he bought my terrible acting! I expected him to straight-up be offended rather than actually bite the false bait. He is dumber than I thought.

I was holding my middle by the time I was done. Tai'chi’s shoulders were moving slightly, probably chuckling and trying to hold back his amusement.

“Did you honestly take it seriously??? I can't— oh my God!” I choked out once more before I went on.

“There’s no chance in hell I’m gonna bow to you, not even one degree of an angle, you foolish, idiotic, spoiled, bastardized son of a bitch.”

His face was turning red out of rage and oh! Wasn’t that a sight to behold?

“You brat!” Turning his head to the others, he yelled, “What are guys standing there for?! Get them!”

Good.

Perhaps they didn’t catch my hands slipping on my beloved crimson knuckle dusters out of the bag when I was laughing then, tugging down my hoodie’s sleeve to hide it.

“Don’t move.” I told the orc, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“But—”

“Just don’t.” I said with my voice firm. I will take them on my own. I can’t have him getting in trouble and people blaming him for being an orc. Imagine that. The ones who attacked him will be viewed as victims because they were up against him, an orc. Numerous humans will jump at the chance to throw dirt at their race, a single act of self-defense treated as a one-sided assault to humans, the thought of it being enough to somehow remove all of them from the city, but everyone knows it's not that simple. Dimwits.

I strode forward without earning his response, waiting for the first person to come at me.

I took my stance, although it was more of preparing half of my body since I was still hiding both of my hands.

They all seemed confused and hesitant, which was what I was going for. To me, and those with experience in hand-to-hand combat, this is one of the most basic stances, but fundamental, nonetheless. A simple form that can determine the outcome of a fight. With my right foot forward, left foot back, both firmly planted to the ground, and my dominant hand wearing my dusters. In their eyes, it was…wrong, foreign. Some may even say it’s an open vulnerability, showing how inexperienced the opponent is, but oh, it is the exact opposite.

I didn’t see Tai'chi’s expression, though. I was on alert and getting into my zone to peer at him, one motion that can put me in a compromising position. Did he notice my brass knuckles? Likely.

“Scared to hurt a little girl like me?” I enticed.

Finally, the one beside their alleged leader charged at me.

A typical amateur approach.

The guy, about two inches taller than me, threw a right punch, which was a huge mistake.

Predictable.

I smirked under my mask and dodged it not a second before it connected. Making him falter as I grabbed his arm and brought it down to my knee, dislodging his joints.

A high-pitched scream of pain broke out of him as he dropped down on the forest ground, gripping his bent-off arm, cursing, but refused to rise and fight me again.

I gave him one last glance before I looked back at the others.

“Who’s next?”

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

Those human shits just can't leave them alone! Interrupting their supposed-to-be official introduction! There's more to the orc that meets the eye *wink* Who is he exactly? Why was he so... observant?

Part 4 is actually on its third revising— and I'm still trying to come up on HOW to phrase my next words to lead to part 5. I let me brain take a break from spewing senseless words for now so I'll probably post the next part of this later or tomorrow

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! And I'd appreciate it if you have some advice for me, or just point out some mistakes I made! Thank you

Ps. This is really not perfect formal writing if you're wondering. I just type away whatever comes into my mind, and then proofread it to the best I can. And I hope you don't mind me using a lot of spaces. It... sort of makes my mind clear and continue moving forward, and it helps me when I'm reading it again, mentally taking note that with every line between spaces there's a slight pause and again, read it clearly like you were the one thinking it. I don't know how to explain how my own brain works but I guess that's that?

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

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bregee13 · 2 years

Text

I've waited long enough. Time to share some Rudolph angst! Yaaaay!

As much as this special is stuffed with a ton of angst material, I'm gonna go out of my way to share something I've never really heard before.

Basically, this entire thing I'm about to share is centered around Fireball. Yes. That's right. A character we only see for a few scenes and never see again.

So why am I slightly obsessed with this fella? Well, mostly because I really wish we got to see more of him. Ok, but why would I want that? Well... Let me start from the beginning.

Rudolph, donning a fake nose, nervously joins in with his peers in an attempt to be social and fit in. It's pretty clear Rudolph has kinda lived in isolation up until now, so he doesn't really know how to interact with anybody.

Fireball, possibly noticing this, eagerly introduces himself and makes Rudolph his buddy. Now this seemingly unremarkable moment has a few potential implications. For one, all the other reindeer are already paired up with their friends. But we don't really see Fireball grouped with anybody else except Rudolph. So either he left his group to take Rudolph under his wing, OR (the option I prefer) Fireball is a lonely kid himself. So when he meets Rudolph, Fireball finally feels like he has a friend.

Either way, Fireball is being a very nice and friendly guy to Rudolph. And he really does make good pals with him! Sure, maybe Rudolph is a little odd and talks kinda funny, but who cares? A friend is a friend! Heck, Fireball is even the one that points out Clarice to Rudolph. He didn't have to do that, but he did it anyway! Because he cared enough for a reindeer he barely knew.

Now I'm painting Fireball as a nice kid because I think it's important to his character and I don't want that aspect of him to get lost in what happens next.

We all know what happens. Rudolph meets Clarice, she calls him cute, he turns out to be a good flier. And after play fighting with Fireball, Rudolph's false nose comes off. And then everything goes wrong from there.

But how does this all go down in Fireball's perspective? Well, I'm gonna be honest here, Fireball does a bunch of not cool stuff at this point. But why would such a nice guy do such things? Well, let's figure out what happened.

Say you befriended someone (who you don't suspect is different in any way) and while playing with them, their nose falls off and reveals a glowing red one underneath. Now this is kinda hard to imagine because there isn't really a human equivalent to this. The closest thing I can think of is if someone's prosthetic comes off.

Now, while he didn't exactly have a nice reaction, Fireball didn't expect his friend's nose to come off like that. Nor did he expect it to glow in his face. And he wasn't really given an explanation either. So when he saw something he never saw before in his life after playing a bit too rough, I can see why his initial reaction to Rudolph's nose was fear. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Fireball at some point thought he personally broke Rudolph's face.

And then Rudolph, noticing Fireball being scared, approaches him. Which unfortunately makes Fireball even more scared. And it isn't until Coach Comet gets startled by Rudolph's nose and everyone gasps and laughs that Fireball regains his composure.

Now I'm not sure how known this is, and I may be mistaken, but from what I've seen Fireball is actually the one that starts making fun of Rudolph. And if I matched up the voice correctly, he's even the one that coined "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer".

So why exactly is Fireball making fun of Rudolph here? I can't say for certain, but I have an idea.

I'm going to be honest, the characters in this special overall have a tendency to be mean and not nice for some reason. This isn't solely the reason I came up with for Fireball's sudden cruelness, but it's definitely a big part of it so I gotta mention it.

Basically what I think happened is that when Fireball got snapped out of his fear by the laughter, he became embarrassed and turned everyone against Rudolph so nobody would be cruel to him instead. And it worked. Nobody was mean to Fireball because he was afraid. Not Comet, not his peers, not the girls that were watching, not Santa who was there, NOBODY. And doing that cost Fireball his friendship with Rudolph.

And after that, Rudolph runs off and is never seen again until his return when he's grown up.

When Rudolph runs into his old peers (which don't include Fireball for some reason... hmm. mystery), they say they thought Rudolph was "gone for good". D...Did everyone assume Rudolph died????

Can you imagine making a friend as a kid, breaking their face by accident, throwing them under the bus for personal gain, and then they run away because of that event and are assumed dead?!? I would feel so bad if I were Fireball! I wouldn't be surprised if Fireball thought he killed Rudolph in a way... And seeing Fireball is nowhere to be found when Rudolph returns, I can't help but wonder if something happened to him.

But what would Fireball and Rudolph do if they reunited? I can't help but wonder. Would Rudolph have hard feelings? How'd Fireball feel about meeting the guy he thought he killed? Would they become friends again? Who knows...

#rankin bass #rudolph the red nosed reindeer #rudolph #rambling #christmas #long post #I need more fireball content immediately #nostalgic rambles

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honhonluigi · 3 years

Note

I'm curious. You've said you dislike religion (which is valid as fuck and I have the same opinion), but if that's the case then why is Angie one of your favorite characters?

(I don't mean anything offensive or anything by this, by the way! If it makes you uncomfortable feel free to delete it.)

No, no, man, I totally get it. I’m sure it looks confusing from the outside. I can explain myself no problem.

I guess it’s probably important to give a little explanation of why I hate religion so much, because it’ll make more sense then. I don’t hate religion because I’m an atheist. I am an atheist because of evidence and facts. Because I want to draw my conclusions based on fact and evidence. If I saw what I thought was undeniable proof of any god’s existence, I’d change my mind. Nah, I hate religion because I was raised in a cult. Not like a “my parents were heavily evangelical/strict” way. My parents were actual official members in an actual cult, listed as a cult by government officials (though they’re considering removing it from the list which would be a supremely bad idea.) You look up all the fucked up things that cults do? Those lists of “How To Tell If You’re In A Cult?” You’re describing this religion to a tee. It gets an A+ in every aspect of cultism. It wasn’t a cape-and-fire-chanting-in-the-woods cult. Those aren’t real. This was a Christian-based cult. (Most real-life cults are. Aside from like...Scientology maybe?) But they weren’t just Christians who took it seriously, like I said. It was a separate cult religion and the entire religion is officially cited as a cult. It was just Christianity-based. See if you can guess what it is. Based on the clues I gave I’d say there’s like...two choices.

Anyway, that’s why I hate religion. Because I’ve seen and suffered first-hand all the damage that religion can cause innocent people. Not just in religious wars and acts of prejudice, but just in individual thought and life control aspects and so much fucking trauma. In torment and guilt and wasted years. In passed opportunities and ended relationships and sexual repression. Religion sucks. (In my opinion, all religions are fundamentally cults at their core. Or they would be, if the worshippers actually adhered strictly to the rules that they made. Which they usually don’t, hence why most mainstream religions aren’t thought of as cults.) I hate religion for the core principles of ‘sinning’, hell/heaven/paradise, good vs evil, thought-crime, religion-over-family, faith, not thinking for yourself, and believing whatever you’re told. That’s so damaging. But I don’t hate religion just because “lol it’s so stupid, I can’t believe people believe that shit!” or “religion is just too mainstream for me!” I can see why people would believe that in the old days, when things couldn’t be explained by science. I hate all religions, even the non-mainstream ones like wicca and shit. And I actually think studying ancient religions is really interesting. It’s an aspect of culture, and I can respect that.

What does this have to do with my opinion of Angie? A lot, actually. I didn’t just go off on a religion rant for no reason.

So, for starter’s, I don’t hate religion because I think it’s “too stupid to be believable” or that being religious is “too mainstream”, like I said. I don’t look down on religious people for being stupid, gullible, or trend-followers (more on that later.) That means that I can still respect Angie as a person, even if she’s religious. That’s important to know going forward.

But the main reason is, I hate religion, not religious people. I hate the institution of religion, any religion. I hate the ideas that it carries and the practices it puts into play. But Angie is not any of those things. She’s just a person. She’s not responsible for any of the things that any religion, including hers, will do. She just believes in it. She, as a person, is not the thing that is doing all the damage I hate so much. Maybe her religion is, but she as an individual is not.

Religious people are victims. I know. I was there. 10 years ago, I was an indoctrinated, god-obsessed homophobe, shivering in anticipation of a doomsday when god slaughtered billions of sinners. I won’t say I was different, and I always knew something was wrong about religion. No, I believed like everyone else. I was indoctrinated as much anybody. Religious people can’t help what they believe. They are the victims of peer pressure, cultural expectations, propaganda, lack of information/education, deliberate thought control, family pressures, and many other factors. Trust me when I say: they really can’t control what they believe. That’s why it’s pointless to argue with them. Their beliefs don’t come from logic. They are all victims. And I see everyone in my former cult as a victim, not an enemy. They really can’t help it. I can’t express that enough.

So it’s not Angie’s fault that she’s so deeply ingrained in a religion. It’s not a character flaw for her, and it doesn’t make her evil or bad. In fact, it makes me like her more. I feel sorry for her. I sympathize with her. I was exactly where she was when I was 13. I know to everyone else, Angie’s religion is just a caricature or a joke. But to me, it makes her character deeper, more interesting, and sadder.

Also, Angie’s not a cultist. Oh, this one makes me so mad. Everyone who says “Angie is in a cult!” or “Angie became a cult leader!” has absolutely no idea what an actual cult is like. The DR writers don’t know. The fans don’t know. It’s nothing like what Angie does. She never becomes a cult leader. Trust me. I would fucking know.

When she becomes Student Council President or w/e, the Student Council has nothing to do with her religion. She’s doing that because she believes she knows what’s best to stop people from killing each other. She’s not doing it because “my religion is right and you all need to convert!” Otherwise, she’d have done that at the start. The rules she makes, like the night time curfew, have nothing to do with religion. (Also, her rules about flashback lights and night time curfews were completely correct and were good ideas, but go off I guess.) Yeah, she might say “Atua told me to do this!” But all hyper-religious people credit their creativity, ideas, or achievements to god. Whether or not those had anything to do with religion. She’s doing it because she has ideas that she thinks can help, not because she wants to push her religion.

Case in point: in order to join her Student Council, you don’t have to believe in Atua. You don’t have to convert. K1-B0 and Himiko make that choice, but Tsumugi and Tenko don’t. And Angie doesn’t care. You’re allowed to be one of their group without sharing Angie’s religion. And once Angie’s Student Council is in power, then what? Fucking nothing. She doesn’t force anyone else to convert to her religion either. Even the people who didn’t join the student council. They’re allowed to not believe. She never approaches them being like “you have to join my religion now that I’m in power.” And she still treats Shuichi and Kaito as politely and friendly as always. (Not Maki and Kokichi, but for obvious reasons. She was right not to trust Maki, after what they learned about her.) Angie not once ever uses her power to push or pressure or threaten or force anyone to worship Atua with her. It doesn’t happen. She’s not a cult leader. If she was, it wouldn’t be optional. There would be grotesque amounts of threats, social isolation, pressure, etc even to those in her own student council if they didn’t believe. I won’t go into detail here, but trust me, it would be so fucking different if her little group actually followed the criteria for being a cult. Even when Tenko goes behind Angie’s back and escorts Shuichi into the school after dark, Angie doesn’t threaten her or oust her. She forgives her. She doesn’t say “no one is ever allowed to talk to you again” or “you have to do a horrible punishment” or “you have to die”. She just...forgives her. Yeah, she insults her a little, but she has a right to be angry after being lied to, betrayed, and used by Tenko. Still, she forgives her. Also: Tenko being in the school after dark and Angie being upset at that has nothing to do with Angie’s religion at all. The rule of not being out after dark doesn’t either.

Also, her actions before her rise to power weren’t culty either. Angie never pushed her religion on anyone. I hate people like that. People who want to force others to believe the way they do. They’re the fucking worst and the scum of the earth. Some of the worst, most evil people alive, in my opinion. Angie’s not like that. She only talked to people about her religion if they asked her. As she explained to Tenko “I wasn’t brainwashing anyone. I was just answering questions.” Himiko, Gonta, and K1-B0 asked her questions because they were curious about her religion. She answered them. When they showed interest, she kept talking to them about it. They were the ones who said they wanted to convert. She never even asked them. And then when they wanted to, she welcomed them with open arms. They approached her. All she did was speak openly and honestly with them. She never forced anyone to convert to her religion. She never even forced anyone to listen to her talk about her religion. When Kaede and Shuichi got uncomfortable about it and changed the subject, she let it fucking go. She stopped talking about it. She never made the first move when talking to someone about Atua. They always approached her first. That’s definitely not culty. That’s just a religious person being honest when they’re asked questions, or getting excited when someone shows genuine interest in their beliefs. Of course she would be excited. These are her friends, and she truly believes that her religion is correct. She would be happy to see them safely in it. In her eyes, it’s the only place where they’re safe. Also, if she was truly a bad religious person, she would think that everyone who didn’t convert to her religion deserved to die. Mark of cults. But she doesn’t. She loves all her classmates, tries to keep them safe, and prays for them when they do die. Also, she believes that they get into Atua’s kingdom simply for being good people, even when they don’t believe in him. That’s definitely not culty. A cult is like “everyone who doesn’t worship like you is always evil, and they always deserve to die, and if they don’t convert then they are not worth saving. If you don’t believe in our religion you will definitely be killed at judgement day no matter what.”

But, most importantly: Angie’s religion is not the only aspect of her character. Angie’s religion actually has nothing to do with my opinion of her. I like her because she’s cute, bright, hopeful, happy, and persistent. She’s kind and selfless and she tries her best to keep everyone happy. She’s confident in herself, even if other people ridicule her. She’s got an interesting twisted side to her, with her composure in the face of death and her desire for blood sacrifices. But that doesn’t stop her from being kind and friendly to everyone. And she’s surprisingly smart, in her own ways. And appropriately ruthless when going after her goals, which is always something I admire. (I loved that she was willing to turn on Himiko when it seemed obvious that Himiko was the culprit, instead of obnoxiously ignoring facts like Tenko. Um, hello? If Himiko is the culprit, you all die? And if she’s the culprit, she’s trying to kill everyone, which kind of gives Angie the right to revoke her friendship from Himiko, yeah?) Angie’s character goes so much deeper than her religion. As far as her religion influencing my opinion of her, it...doesn’t. I pretty much just ignore it. I love her for who she is, not what she believes.

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a-woman-apart · 4 years

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Watch "I'M BACK! WHY I LEFT YOUTUBE FOR TWO YEARS!" on YouTube

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This scared me so badly, because this is EXACTLY what happened in my life, except it was all in The Reverse.

I graduated with an Associate Degree in Music Performance in 2018, but instead of running TOWARDS my dream/calling I ran hardcore AWAY from it. My pride in graduating only lasted a month before I declared myself Utterly Unmarketable and sought to go after a "real degree" and get a Big Girl career.

Between 2018 and 2020 I had major life changes.

My dad died of stomach cancer

I broke up with my neglectful boyfriend

I turned down a Full Ride to a major college

I hospitalized myself for Suicidal Ideation (Sept 2019)

I quit my job of 5 years

I started working for my best friend and became her Office Manager

I started dating the Love of my Life

I lost my friend group and peer support

I lost my mind and left college due to COVID-19 (but not before making one of my best decisions in taking a Screenwriting class because I WANTED not NEEDED it)

Started distancing myself from the toxic women in my life and definining Womanhood/Adulthood for myself

Visited my brother's grave after over a decade of waiting and got closure

Fully acknowledged my childhood trauma/abuse

Rediscovered my sexuality

Was disowned by who I erroneously thought was a close friend of 17 years over my political views

Joined and exited Unity2020

Turned in my car for repossession

Spent a week in the hospital after having a severe, paranoid psychotic break, but came out completely free of the vice of self-consciousness I was living under

You know what is nuts? I feel in many ways, I have completely reverted to who I was in the summer of 2011. I was off my meds, and it WAS mania, but personality-wise, the tempestuous, gum-chewing, cigarette-puffing, flirtatious, humorous, free-spirited ball of fire that drove all the way to Colorado on a whim wasn't rebellious, SHE WAS ME.

I just wasn't Me around the right people, and it wasn't the Right Time.

My inner Sagittarius moon would remain in a dormant state for almost a full decade. I would spend the next 9 years heavily sedated, sleepwalking through life, only alive at The Sound of Music.

It was Torture to feel so much but be afraid to express myself. I had to Hide while doing a major that demanded that I Command Attention. I am by nature "dramatic", "theatrical", "emotional", "expressive" but that part of me was so suppresed that I was frequently told I sang with excellence but without emotion.

Aside: During my 2011 manic episode, I spoke a lot about Doppelgangers. Without going into excessive detail, this is a German word that means "Double" and it is considered bad luck to encounter yours.

In the past 2 weeks, I have encountered people that look/sound like me (Josephine is Nigerian-Canadian and I am Nigerian-American and I kept thinking about her work even though I initially disagreed with her lot) and a woman with my name (different spelling) who was NOTHING like me and I also think might've had malice in mind for me.

I was DEFINITELY an agnostic atheist when I started this year, but as a result of undergoing so much weird shit I almost certainly believe in God, and yes, "God is a Woman." (More on that later)

Also, I realized that I really DID, as many teenage girls, "lose interest in math and science" but that was because of the terrible, unfactual way it was presented in my homeschool curriculum and by my mom, who was a Math major but whose disinterested detachment made every algebra lesson an excercise in torture.

I have always loved biolology and anatomy and I remember so much more chemistry than I thought. Geology class in community college was amazing and also helped me understand-- even more than the Theory of Evolution-- why young earth creationism was completely impossible.

As for math, I spent 15 years thinking it was my greatest weakness when I have had to use arithmetic in cashiering, my managerial work, and my monthly budget for the last 7 years. Also, as annoying as it was to hear constantly, my mom parroting "What you have to do to one side, you have to do to the other" (but in reverse) gave me the ability to do Algebra quickly and (mostly) effortlessly. I could never get A's, but I got a B in Quantitative Mathematics with no real help aside from occasional teacher input and the "Help me solve this" function of MyMathLab.

Here is where it Gets Weird. I am a Creative. I have been writing stories since I was 6 years old. I have loved Story all my life. My parents were in math and science fields and they completely lacked any creativity. COMPLETELY. It was part of why they were so religiously rigid, authoritarian, and draconian. There was no room for spontaneity or childish imaginativeness.

Looking back, I had major sensory and processing issues. I was likely speech delayed, I learned to read late, and I recently confirmed that when I am stressed my dyscalculia kicks in bad (it IS real). Numbers and symbols get really interchangeable (like an 8 and infinity symbol become kinda the same) which is why I had to recite phone numbers out loud to remember them or write them on colorful backgrounds so I can see them in my head as an image. Also explains my aversion to math but my ease with fractions (1/2 is half a sandwich, etc).

My spatial awareness is also shit when stressed. Before I turned in our car, I had earned the nickname "U-turn" from my boyfriend because on that Floating Death Machine left and right got completely crossed, frequently.

By the way, I struggled with right and left until I WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD. I literally didn't understand the concept of a mirror and 3D space, meaning that the basic understanding that my right is someone else's left didn't come into play until I had an argument with my [now-deceased] brother about it.

What is so weird, is that because of years of correcting for these issues, my sense of direction, ON FOOT is good, if not better than most people. Also, once I realized that, given the opportunity, I very much do whatever I can with my left-hand, and that my hearing is MUCH better than I even thought, I am far less clumsy. Depth perception is still crap, but that is probably also because I was forced to spend years without the glasses I needed (and got earlier this year after living with chronic eye strain)

When I talk about these "issues" it is in line with female autism, but you know what? If really do have adult autism, then I am a Complete Boss because I have pwned that ho.

After being rehospitalized, a kind nurse suggested I may have PTSD and suggested medicine for insomnia and nightmares. It was extremely helpful. I had been looking into C-PTSD for a while, because I didn't think I had "suffered enough" to have "real" PTSD. But that isn't how diagnoses work.

Btw, I still have Bipolar I, Psychotic Features. Another kind nurse told me I don't need anti-psychotics, and no, I don't. I was given Zyprexa by a bitch nurse and it was like getting drunk. I stumbled the halls, almost fell over (possibly did) and woke up with a neon "Fall Risk" bracelet. Anti-psychotics also fucked up my menstrual cycle for years and I have had lingering hormonal isssues. Haha no thanks.

Anyway, I digress. Of course I am fucked up. I lived under family members who questioned my reality, attempted to crush my dreams, threatened me with physical punishment any time I behaved in non-neurotypical ways, violated my rights and interfered with my treatment even though I was a full legal adult, undermined my relationships, tortured and socially isolated me, etc., all under the guise "of knowing best."

In minority cultures, our darkness hides in plain sight, and ESPECIALLY in the Bible Belt, with its supeestition and idolization of familial hierarchy/patriarchy, victims of financial, spiritual, emotional, and physical abuse have no where safe to turn. The Long Arm of the Law is often Short when it comes to "breaking up the family", and women and children are victimized openly with little to no intervention.

On top of doing my Creative Work, I plan to create legislation to make sure that what happened to me and my siblings isn't allowed to go unpunished. We lost my older brother, and I almost died, too, but Enough is Enough.

The Time is Now.

P.S. If Josephine is an Air Nomad I identify as a Water Bender. I basically have no water in my astrological chart, but water signs bring me great comfort in times of need (and make bad romantic partners for me obviously)

Also, this is one Bad Biyatch.

I also found out I am an ISFJ, not INFJ. Yep. Gonna be a Playwright and Director. I want to be a part of the action, not just writing about it.

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