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#to chose their own directions which is GREAT! good concept. but as a form of entertainment it just felt so incomprehensible so now at the
gear-project · 1 month
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Annon-Guy:
Hope we're good with the Tsundere chat.
In regards to Elphelt, would you say her emotions were faked in spite on being a sleeper agent? I honestly don't think so considering how lively she is. Plus, if her emotions weren't real, she wouldn't have screamed in horror at Ramlethal's supposed death in Revelator. Although, it appears that the one emotion that sadly eludes her is romantic love as she has a good grasp of familial love as shown with Ram and understanding Bedman?.
Yeah, it's fine. We were just talking Anime and plot writing (which could stand improvements, but I digress).
As for Elphelt... it's not so much that her Emotions were synthetic, well... technically EVERY ASPECT of her was Synthetic, being born and fabricated in the Backyard... but not everything is something you can control right down to the microns of details.
That is to say, Human Emotions are born from experiences and instincts, that's not something you can graft on to someone and simply expect them to perform perfectly.
Of course, that's something not even Ariels understood on her own terms, and even now she's still learning what it means to be human.
Not even I-No understood it, and she was given more time to "act like a Human" than most would!
Emotions are something based largely on interactions with other forms of life, human or otherwise...
Being Happy is the state of expressing enjoyment of a positive situation.
Love is something a bit deeper than the concept of Happiness, and in many cases is much more long-term. Love in fact is closer to a Promise or an Oath than a simple temporary state of being "Happy" with someone.
But even if Happiness is Temporary, that doesn't mean it can't be achieved in a repetitive and healthy way... as said, Love is something more of a constant or regular 'drive' or 'motivation' for people.
Elphelt grew attached to her sister as "family" despite the gap between them as siblings with an agenda, simply because Elphelt CHOSE to acknowledge her feelings with her sister Ramlethal.
None of that was relevant to her mission that Ariels gave her, it was something she chose for herself as an individual.
Even if she was forbidden to "love" others in her directives, that was still something she could do... become attached, make friends, become family, interact.
It's more accurate to say that despite her directives, Elphelt circumvented wherever she could.
And when Sol finally confronted her on where she truly stood within her heart and how she really felt... she defied those directives even if it meant killing herself.
She would have loathed herself and her own restricted existence to Death if it weren't for Ariels and Sol's interventions.
Reconstructing herself "as a human" would be much easier to do once Elphelt was finally given the freedom to "be herself".
It's more accurate to say Ramlethal had a MUCH harder time learning how to be human than Elphelt did. Simply because she was never told how much value she held as an individual.
These were things Elphelt never grappled with, never struggled with. She was satisfied with her identity even if she was merely a tool for Ariels at first. Of course, unlike Ramlethal, Elphelt was never thrown aside, though the fact Ariels tried to kill her sister WAS a deep betrayal.
It is hard to say if Elphelt will ever forgive her mother for what she did... but there's a great many other things Elphelt is doing in her life now that she could never do "as a Valentine"...
And even if she's a bit clumsy at some things, there's no longer anything that can truly stop her from being who she was meant to be as a person.
Even if there are still "gaps" in her feelings, just like any flower in a field, there's STILL room to grow and bloom.
That's how Emotions are, by nature.
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Making Of: Intergrated Practice - Evaluation
For this module, I was tasked with creating an artist portfolio of my previous and current work suitable for viewing for a professional client - including a digital website with curated production artwork (URL link + Screenshots in a PDF or PowerPoint) either on Adobe Portfolio, Wix, Artstation or Behance, as well as a 90-second Showreel MP4 – representing my current and appropriate work to my area of interest, and a Behind the Scenes Video to be uploaded as an MP4.
Task one was to fill out two forms: a Skills Audit and a Swot Analysis to analyse my strengths and weaknesses as an artist.
The hardest area to fill in was 'external threats'. This broad category can include many things, such as equipment I need being unavailable through to natural disasters. Still, I filled out the SWOT analysis to the best of my ability and submitted it to Blackboard.
Next, I searched for animation jobs on Screenskills.com. I also looked at Upcity.com, a company job-hunting site.
My first choice for a career would be that of a storyboard artist. I have some experience with storyboarding in the past with other projects, such as with my short film Animatic, River Snake. It’s an entry-level job, so it could be a viable option as an industry ‘first foot in the door’ position.
Junior Animator is another viable career option. Specifically, frame-by-frame digital animation and stop-motion animation. Even though I'm talented with frame-by-frame 2D, this medium involves a variety of programs in which I'm not as well versed as I am in stop-motion software like DragonFrame.
And I do dream of being able to direct or be the head writer of my own projects with a professional company one day. I feel I have a vivid imagination and creative vision that I'd want to express on a mainstream project.
One studio I found on upcity.com was Kilogramme. A studio that specialises in "adverts, title sequences, museum pieces, explainers and public information films on any subject". I liked their look since they do 2D frame-by-frame animation. I could find viable work there. I have always been a fan of informational short films like those on the Ted-Ed YouTube channel, so it would be a great opportunity to work on similar types of short films.
Mighty Giant was a studio I would also consider working for. They specialise in motion graphics and, like Kilogramme, also have done some frame-by-frame 2D projects. I’m not quite as keen on working for this studio as I am for Kilogramme, as most of their work consists of CG animation, a medium I'm not well-versed in. I will still consider them as an option, though.
After this, I was tasked with looking at the different websites and website builders I’d utilise to host a portfolio.
The first website I looked at was Behance. A website owned by Adobe which caters to both professional and amateur artists. The tutor recommended this as good for students such as myself, but I was weary of working with websites and software owned by Adobe. While I am willing to use it at my school as it's considered an industry standard, I disapprove of the company's practices, like the increasingly high prices of their software. Hence, I was hesitant to use it at first.
Artstation was another website where I could create an account and post a professional art portfolio. It has a sleek and professional look. However, the website mainly caters to professional concept artists, so I didn’t know if it would be the right place for me, as an amination student, to host my work.
I also considered DeviantArt, one of the first websites dedicated to hosting art and artist's portfolios. Sadly, though, it isn't as widely used or as popular these days compared to the 2000s and early 2010s, so I thought it wouldn’t be wise to use it as a portfolio site to showcase my work to modern clients.
Ultimately, I chose Behance to make a website on, as I am familiar with Adobe products. Additionally, I wanted to expand my skills by building a page on a website I hadn't used before.
I then created a showreel for my Behance portfolio page, compiling short clips from the animation work I am most proud of and the work that best represented my current artistic abilities.
Although the teacher showed us examples of other artists showreels which showcased only one or two mediums the respective artists were good at, I decided that I'd show a mix of my stop-motion, 2D animation, puppetry, storyboards and sketchbook work to showcase a range of skills.
For the editing, I decided that instead of the film dissolve I used for the transitions of my previous videos and showreels, I would be more experimental and use a swipe transition. I felt it gave the showreel better pacing and a sleeker feel. I also gave the parts with my sketchbook sketches a page flip transition to give the impression of someone flipping through a sketchbook and shake up the film's repetitive format. Overall, I was quite happy with how the showreel turned out.
After this, I compiled a presentation and wrote a script showcasing all the work and research I had done so far during this project.
I was proud of myself for this presentation, especially considering how little time I had to work on it due to being busy with other projects. When it was my turn to present, I knew my project well and spoke off-script. I think it came out great despite not having the time to put more planning into my delivery.
Another aspect of Integrated Practice was recording material for a behind-the-scenes documentary on the film, Thin Ice,  my team and I made for the Creative Collaboration project, including making promotional materials/merchandise such as posters. Due to some minor miscommunication, I was briefly confused about my job role in production art. I thought I was going to make the backgrounds and some thumbnail sketches for poster designs; however, my teammate Hung had done a few of those already (mainly the poster sketches). I messaged the group, and we were able to clear this up; Hung was to do the backgrounds while I took care of the promotional poster design.
After I made the poster in Adobe Illustrator, I made a second website on Linkedin, where I posted links to my other artist accounts. And vice vera include a link to my LinkedIn on Behance.
After this, I made a PowerPoint presentation that I could convert to PDF with a link to my Behance webpage. I had trouble with this because the website was inaccessible when I clicked on the URL. As it turned out, the URL behance.net/briannamcarthur was already taken, so I changed it to behance.net/Brianna_mcarthur. And after transferring the PowerPoint to a different computer to test if the link would work there, it did.
Throughout this time, I filmed several time lapsed videos on my phone of me working on creative collab to use in the documentary. I took these from my phone along with the videos Hung and Dennis uploaded to the Creative Collab shared folder and compiled them together in Premiere Pro for the documentary. I also included my own commentary recorded on my notes app. I ran into a problem when Dennis included footage of him working on the animation which was over ten minutes long. So, I adjusted the video speed to at least 2000% speed so it would feel more like a timelapse. Once the film was put together, I realised it went over five minutes, which was the maximum runtime required on the brief for the documentary. So, I had to significantly cut down the film footage wherever I could to fit it into exactly five minutes. This was tough as I felt this hurt the pacing of certain parts and scenes, such as the b-roll of the Lightwaves Festival. But I am satisfied with the result overall.
In general, I feel proud of the things I was able to accomplish in Integrated Practice; I felt I gained valuable experience in how to market myself as an artist and my portfolio of work online. I learned several practical skills in this area, such as building a portfolio/networking website on sites such as Behance and Linkedin and putting together an online portfolio of work. I also learned other practical skills during the making of my documentary, such as recording a voiceover for a film, speeding up footage in Adobe Premiere Pro, and making/editing a documentary in general. I also gained a better understanding of the multitude of jobs available within the animation industry and it has helped me to identify the entry level positions I should aim for. I hope to bring these skills and knowledge with me into the third year of my course and a professional career as an artist.
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arnae-exsurfdes · 2 years
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Abstract
Pollution is a huge issue in the world. Every year, the global population generates approximately 1.3 billion tons of waste. This project aims to draw attention to this issue and has the purpose of being a visual aid to a pollution campaign. Because there are three different shapes and sizes in this series, the sculptures can be used in a lot of different contexts. The variations mean they can easily be used in a design system while still having enough similarity that they tie together the campaign. 
Critical Reflection
To fully reflect on this project, I need to explore both the process and the result. This will lead to a more in-depth understanding of what I have accomplished with this art series. 
Process
My process began with more experimentation after my formative presentation. I created three different approaches at home out of paper, cardboard, paint and glue. By making my ideas into physical prototypes it gave me the ability to understand what works and what doesn't. This also gave me ideas into what I can expand into, which calls for more research. I knew from my experimentations that I no longer wanted to include the cans or cups from my formative concept. Concentrating on just the plastic bottles would make my concept stronger and would be a constant in my series system. What I decided to explore was the end result aesthetic. I narrowed it down to three different directions, underwater, dirt or overgrown. Meanwhile, I was forming my base of each part. I decided to go the direction of plaster, as the paper and cardboard were not working out, and air dry clay would be too difficult to work with. This was a good direction as my first experiment turned into a huge success. It is one of my final pieces. I kept pursuing this method because it was so successful, however I could have experimented more with other mediums if I had more time. I also would have liked to create an actual mold instead of leaving the plastic inside the sculpture. 
Result
I am happy with my final three sculptures and like the direction I chose. I think they work well in the context I chose for them. I like that the shapes and sizes were different and created variation in my system. I kept the colours, materials and plastic bottle consistent. It would be interesting to change the variation from scale to aesthetic. By changing this, I could have created three sculptures that each were underwater themed, dirt themed and moss/overgrown theme. I would have also liked to explore concrete and growing my own moss on it. Time constraints hindered my ability to continue this experimentation however this is something I could pursue down the track. A project like this would be great for my portfolio if I continued with it.
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flowercoasts · 3 years
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thinking!!! thinking!!! in the notes!!!!
#dunno if i’ll post this Out Loud but i do wanna say#that i heard about the c/r stuff and having not watched the show since ep 92 or smth#i gotta SAY: something that c/r season 2 suffered TREMENDOUSLY from was the lack of a cohesive main plot line for the majority of the show#it’s smth that vm had and what made them Work because they also had to go through the ‘why are we doing this grand quest’ stuff that i don’t#think that the m9 ever could feel other than sparsely because every action they chose#ASIDE from that because it was an open world and matt didn’t point them in any one particular direction#they hopped from arc to arc without really finding any natural conclusions or good tie ins imo#at times it just felt like..... So What Do We Do Now? and someone went: Hey! look at this note! and they did whatever while the world moved#you know? like i feel as though c/r2 was an excersize in matts amazing open world abilities and he even said i think that he wanted the m9#to chose their own directions which is GREAT! good concept. but as a form of entertainment it just felt so incomprehensible so now at the#end of their journey it feels so unfinished. bc they spent so much time doing nothing or leaving things unfinished when they could’ve spent#it character building or confronting their pasts or whatever and then the campaign loses steam at the end#bc they reached the main plot line 3/4ths of the way through the story.#do you get what i mean?????#might talk abt this more later but anyways! great concept poor execution#flower talks#this is why short campaigns but excellent storylines are still just as good if not better cough cough go watch d20!#miss the vm story gotta say#TLDR; you can’t tell a story that lacks in story!!!!#essentially they were main characters who acted like side characters the whole time#or side characters shoved in the main character plot at the end#that’s why i liked the early eps i think cause it was such an amazing set up for the m9... like they lost a member but they’re ready now to#go forward and heal and put everything molly said into existence and growing as a group while focusing on their Main Quest or whatever#idk i get that it’s non traditional in Form like m9 is just non traditional all around#but there’s only so much that explanation can get you when you’re telling a story as a form of media
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craig-f-tucker · 2 years
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Talking more about this cus Ht4 did Johnny so good man, they delivered on characterizations of him established in both ht1 and ht2 that weren't really utilized to their full potential in ht2 or utilized well at all in ht3
I feel like ht2&3 being mainly from dracs perspective meant that johnny's positive social traits like how easily he clicks with strangers, likes meeting people, and makes things more fun for those around him all got sort of downplayed, just because the movies only really focused on how his family sees him and not how he really is, you know? I feel like in ht4 the bus scene was peak ht1 backpacker Johnny energy, I think his love of having new experiences and meeting new people is an important trait of his that kind of got swept under the rug in the third movie and to a lesser extent the second movie, so it's really great to see some direct showing of it throughout this movie, even if he is still only with Dracula for most of it
Additionally, I think this movie did a much better job at showing Johnny's strengths than the third movie did- I feel like ht3 tried to make up for Johnny being kind of useless in the ending of ht2, but they just kind of missed what actually makes Johnny helpful? Like compare the campfire scene in ht4 with the dance scene where he gives mavis fake wise advice, or when saves the day from the kraken. Ht4 does a way better job of showing what johnnys ACTUAL strengths are. He's not an idiot because he likes fun, he has his own form of wisdom in optimism and living life the best you can and I'm really glad they chose to give focus to that this time.
As for established traits from the second movie rather than the first, I feel like this movie does a GREAT job of delivering on some of the extra character details of Johnny set up in ht2. Within ht2 we get a variety of moments showing hints of Johnny feeling outcast and potentially insecure (like the texting scene, the family photo with him off to the side, "this is the first place where I can really be myself", the discomfort with his home town, just added on to the fact that we know from the first movie that he didn't really have any long term friends before mavis,) and that's a trait we don't really see continued on in ht3, but which is DEFINITELY evident in ht4. Early on in the movie he acts so confident with his little just the 3 of us performance, all smiling and stuff, but says not long after to mavis that he doesn't really feel like drac actually sees him as part of the family, furthering the concept that Johnny is using his over the top fun persona to help cover up insecurity in his place in the world. And we know this is insecurity because we see pretty clearly in the movie that drac does see Johnny as family, even if he's not always fond of how much Johnny is. And sidebar, this movie does so much better a job at showing Johnny and dracs dynamic than ht2, I think they're still very fun in ht2 but this definitely feels like a more accurate feel of the dynamic from ht1, just warped by several years of being family. I've already rambled about that in another post tho lol
And one more additional point, I love how the use of that last trait of Johnny's makes the conflict of the movie not have to make anyone look bad? Like in this movie the conflict is more based off misunderstandings and smaller mistakes, rather than ht2, where the characters flaws have to be played up for the sake of making the plot work. I feel like Drac and Johnny (and probably to some extent mavis) were made more unlikable in ht2 for entertainment sake, which was not at all a problem that ht4 had. Both Dracula and Johnny's perspectives on the situations going on and the actions they take in response are understandable, which I appreciate, it just makes everything feel a little more realistic.
[[Disclaimer this post isn't me hating on ht2 or ht3, I love both of them a lot 🥰 honestly I don't even particularly have a preference for ht4 over them, I just think ht4 has great Johnny writing in comparison to them, which like, of course it's going to, it's the Johnny centric movie lol]]
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shadowofahope · 3 years
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NOT Gonna Happen
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Warnings: Swearing? One bad word near the end.
Premise: Fight or Flight. Meet BTS or run away from BTS?
“Uh guys…. She’s rolling away.” Yoongi points to you and your attempt to escape the room. Hands grab your ankles to halt your getaway. “I hate all of you.” You groan up at Yeonjun, who still had hold of you. You give up, letting out a deep sight, wishing the ground would open from under you.
Ft. TXT
Authors notes: My honest to all the kpop gods, reaction to meeting these boys. YEET!
This is also a response to people constantly asking me, what would you do if you met BTS?
ALSO this is heavily un-edited. I'm really tired and I'm trying to write 3.5 stories at once! Wooooh, wish me luck!
masterlist
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Today marks your 8th week working at BigHit, currently working with TxT on their new album and the chaos that always followed them. Walking down a hallway with one of the backup dancers you had become quick friends with, you felt at home in this monumental building. You are comfortable here, everyone making you feel at home.
“Pleasssssse” Sung-ho begs again. Hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently as he walks behind you. “You have to come.”
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” You whine back, swinging your staff badge back and forth on your neck. “You know I don’t want to meet them.
He tugs on your shoulders lightly forcing you to halt. Jumping in front of you, palms pressed together, eyes closed he starts begging.
“You promised you would come to one practice. Just this one. Please Please Please-”
Huffing in frustration, you screw up your nose. He silently waits for you to give in, as he knows you will eventually.
“Just this one.” You finally give in.
“Yaaay!” He cheers, jumping to your side.
In all the comotion you don’t notice the footsteps approaching you two from down a connecting hallway. Shrugging your friend off, you’re about to round the corner when you hear it. Instantly freezing.
“I think it’ll be safer to go over the choreo with the dancer one more time.”
“I agree, the timing still seems a little off. We should take a look at the schedules.”
“Sung-ho!”
Your friend smiles and turns to the voice that called him, turning his back to you.
“Hello, Taehyung. Jimin. Hoseok.” Sung-ho greets cheerfully.
“Do you have time to come with us to discuss the schedules for practice?” Jimin asks politely.
“Of course, I was just on my way to grab a snack with -” He starts to explain, turning to where you once stood. Hand hanging in the air, he’s dumbfounded.
“With-?” Hoseok questions.
“Apparently myself.” He turns back to the boys. How had you disappeared so quickly and to where?
He chuckled awkwardly at the idols, cursing you for putting him in this embarrassing situation.
They mirror back his awkward laugh, excusing themselves as they continue on down the hallway.
Your friend stands there for almost two full minutes, trying to figure out what in the hell just happened. He hears a rattle coming from the small storage room near him.
The door swings open.
“You did not just-“ He’s wheezing, trying to catch his breath.
“Don’t talk to me” You walk out of the storage room, in reality it’s more of a tiny linen closet. Upon hearing the idols voices, In sheer blind panic, you threw yourself into the closet and shut the door behind you.
Walking past your still wheezing friend, you push him playfully before continuing on towards the lounge. His loud cackles bouncing around you all the way there.
💜♾💜♾💜
You are sitting in a waiting room with TXT. You’ve made yourself comfortable on one of the couches facing away from the door across the large room, angled towards the wall full over mirrors for makeup and hair. Scrolling through your phone, while Kai and Taehyun talk about something animatedly behind you. You can see them every once in a while, flailing their arms, mimicking wild gestures.
You three had chosen to stay back while the other three needed to ‘stretch’ their legs and find something to drink. So when the door opens you don’t look up, expecting it to be the missing members. Your body lurches forward at the reflection in the mirror, panic spreading.
“Hyung!” Kai exclaims excitedly, bounding over to the 2 members of BTS that have entered the room. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, we were looking for Jungkook. Have you seen him?” Namjoon asks, looking around the room.
“No, he hasn’t been through here.” Taehyun chirps next to his bandmate.
“Ok, I’ll try calling him again. '' Jin responds, pulling out his phone from his back pocket.
“What are you guys doing here?” Namjoon questions the younger idols.
“Oh, we are working on a concept for one of the singles off our album. Our producer -” Kai motions to the couch that you were on. Now being completely empty. Your slouching form gone, the room appeared empty as well. “Who apparently is gone now, was here helping us.”
Jin and Namjoon shared a skeptical glance at each other. Kai rubs the back of his head as he looks at his beandmember, giving him a confused tilt to his head, to which he gets a shrug in response.
“That’s the newer producer right?” Jin questions.
“Uh yea, that’s her.” Taehyun confirms, still utterly confused by your houdini act.
“We’ve heard a lot of great things about her, from all over, but we still havent seen her.” Namjoon concluded by nodding his head, in thought.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. It’s bound to happen.” Kai reassures.
The duos bid each other goodbye, BTS leaving the room and TXT walking back towards the empty couch.
“How did she-where did she-?” Unable to fully ask his question, Taehyun looks around the room again.
Kai rounds the side of the couch, noticing a hood under the coffee table.
“Noona?” He tries to hide his laugh but fails miserably.
You lift your head from the floor, removing your hood, peering up from underneath the coffee table at the younger. You glare at him, crawling out as he falls back onto his butt laughing, Taehyun joining him on the floor. Both now convulsing with uncontrollable laughter.
Flopping angrily back onto the couch in your previous position, you ignore their incessant chattering and laughing. Recounting you hiding again and again. Even when the other members returned and they explained everything that happened while they were gone, you chose to angrily scroll on your phone until their pestering and teasing died down.
💜♾💜♾💜
Pacing back and forth in a secluded lounge area, you waited with all of the members of txt. You were waiting to hear back from the execs about your concept ideas. The boys had worked extremely hard to come up with a fully thought out concept, you had backed their ideas the whole way as they presented them to the higher staff. Now you waited, anxiously.
Drumming your hands together while pacing you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. Each member stationed on the couch, lounger ottoman, facing you. Legs bouncing in anticipation, knuckles cracking you stopped in front of the large window, facing them, the outside world behind you.
“Look guys, regardless of what happens you did amazing.” You smile at them. “And I’m unbelievably proud of you. All of you.”
Breaking them out of their stoppers, they look up at your faces glowing, pride swelling in their chests.
“Soobin-ah?” A deep voice calls from somewhere unknown, and you freeze.
The members of TXT jump up from their seats, whirling around in time to see all the members of bts walking around the balcony area over to them.
“Taehyung-hyung,” Soobin greets politely. “How are you all doing today.?”
“Good, we just finished rehearsals.” Taehyung explains, once they were standing just on the other side of the couch to him. “Have you guys heard anything yet? We saw the concept art, we really liked it!”
“Nothing yet. We were actually just waiting. Noona was just trying to-” Soobin attempts to explain, motioning behind him to you. Seeing the skeptical looks on their faces, he turned his head to see nothing. You had completely vanished. With furniture and a structural wall surrounding you, there was no place you possibly could be hiding.
Confusion evident on his face as he looks over at Yeonjun. Eyes silently asking him where you had gone, the older only shook his head, eyes just as wide, he shrugged in response.
“Right, the elusive producer we keep hearing about but never seeing.” Yoongi responds comically. “Maybe she isn’t real? But a ghost!”
Spooking Jin and Hoseok alike, they give him an alarmed glare.
“No, we promise she’s real.” Soobin persuades, his voice coming out in almost a plea.
Trying to affirm your existence to their Hyungs, Gyu becomes overwhelmingly curious. He walks over to the spot you had been standing, a deep frown settled on his features.
He does a full 360, in an attempt to understand where you could have gone. Upon turning around he notices something. Stifling a laugh and breaking into a full blown smile, he subtly waves Kai over, when they make eye contact. Kai nonchalantly makes his way over to him, Gyu mumbles something to him and he looks in the direction that Gyu was nodding. Trying to hide his own laugh, the two youngest members stand snickering, waiting for the members of BTS to walk away before exposing you to the group.
Once the groups bid each other goodbye, they both break out into hysterical laughter.
“What guys?” Yeonjun jumps at the unexpected hollering. But neither boy can speak, too consumed by laughter they both point to the semi open window.
“She didn’t” Taehyun launches himself over the ottoman in front of him rushing to the window. Soobin and Yeonjun right behind him. The three of them look out to see your figure hopping down from the last branch of the tree outside.
With lightning speed and zero hesitation, you had climbed out of the already opened window on the second floor. Stepped from the ledge onto a tree that's long, thick branches were supporting itself against the building. Then walked to the center of the large tree and climbed your way down.
Mass hysteria broke out between the 5 members.
“That’s it. We have to make her meet them.” Soobin exclaims, wiping a tear that fell down his cheek.
“Guys, I think I have a plan.” Yeonjun smirks. So they all huddled around to listen.
💜♾💜♾💜
Today was supposed to be your day off. But upon receiving a text from Soobin, saying they needed you there urgently for their concept proposal, you raced straight there. So there you were standing in the hall talking to an exec in a black oversized pullover hoodie and workout leggings. Today was about comfort over professionalism, well it was supposed to be.
But when you had finished your pleasant chat with the exec, he started apologizing profusely about something he couldn’t say. Trying to hide his chuckle, his eyes dart over your shoulder. Before you could press him about his comments, you were spun around and hoisted off of your feet. Draped over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. In alarm you manage to struggle enough to see your kidnapper, Yeonjun.
“What are you dooooooiiiinnnng?” You whine, struggling more.
He says nothing, but turns down the hallway to the dance practice rooms.
“Put me down shrek.” You quote. Wiggling even harder to escape the ironclad grip on you.
“There’s no point Noona, just accept it.” A sweet cheerful voice, butts in, shoes coming into view as you tilt your head up to look.
“Really Kai, they have you in on this too?” You slump in defeat. “Fine, but don’t you dare fart.”
Your capture lets out a chuckle before entering the dance room. The other three members you can kind of see. Or at least their shoes. Your hood keeps flopping down and making it hard to tell.
“Guys seriously, why are you-” You begin as blood starts rushing to your head. Making you slightly dizzy.
“Hello Hyungs.” Yeonjun greets politely. Panic rising, you tilt your head to the side to look into the wall mirror, there you see all 7 members of BTS sitting on the floor, along with the other members of TXT standing around you. “This is Y/N-Noona, the real, not a ghost, producer.”
Realization hits you like a ton of bricks, as snickers and muffled laughs resonate behind you.
“Yeonjun…..” Your voice is a little shaky. “You did not just introduce me to BTS ass FIRST?!”
Everyone in the room breaks into rounds of full belly laughter as you are hoisted back over the shoulder, feet planted on the floor.
Turning shyly to the side, you make eye contact with each member of BTS. Your legs crumble beneath you, muttering ‘I could have lived my whole life without this’ angrily. You lay on the ground face down, hood over your head as more laughter ensues.
“You had to meet them at some point, even backwards!” Gyu exclaims between heaves of laughter, clutching his stomach .
Waving your hand blindly towards the members of TXT you bark “That’s it! We are no longer friends. Done, Forever, never again!”
Apologies begin to flow toward you but you ignore them. Eventually you ignore any comment that comes your way, still plastered to the floor, the 12 men begin to talk about other things. Completely unaware of you.
...Or so you thought….
“Uh guys…. She’s rolling away.” Yoongi points to you and your attempt to escape the room. Hands grab your ankles to halt your getaway.
“I hate all of you.” You groan up at Yeonjun, who still had hold of you. You give up, letting out a deep sight, wishing the ground would open from under you.
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sunshine-on-my-mind · 3 years
Text
New Venture
this is for @nakedrogers​ esme’s 2k writing challenge. (Congratulations on 2K!!!!)
one-shot (sfw)
pairing: Frank Adler x Reader
AU: Bookstore owner AU
Prompts: 13. “i told you not to read that.” ; 23. “i wish you did.”
Words: 1591
Warnings: no warnings as such. FLUFF!!!! Well Frank Adler being super cute is a warning in itself.
a/n: this is my first ever fic so hope you all like this, do reblog if you enjoy reading this. I chose Frank Adler for my first work because i love him so much.
i do not own the characters Frank and Mary. not my GIF.
PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY WORK OR POST IT ANYWHERE.
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“I told you not to read that”, this was followed by Mary’s deep sigh. “Frank please just a little more”. Oh well, it’s the same old situation, Mary wants to read more books on mathematics but Frank thinks it’s enough for one day, she has been doing so since they opened the bookstore this morning. This is a new venture for both Frank and Mary, it has been a year since they opened a little bookstore. They were looking for a fresh start, and it was actually Mary who came up with the idea of a bookstore. Frank had a huge smile and that was a nod to this new venture. “That’s enough for today Mary, come help me” the bookstore was not so busy at this moment. Mary huffs, “why? Do you need help with calculating the money?” Frank won’t ever admit but he admires how snarky and sassy Mary can be at times, that kid is awesome. Frank decides it’s better to not reply and focuses on arranging the bookshelves.
The door chimes stating the arrival of people. Mary greets them. “Welcome!” The two women enter the bookstore. “Hey sweetie, do you know where the thriller section is?” Mary scrunches her nose a little, then points them towards the correct direction. Frank has arranged the bookshelves by now and he moves towards his little desk near the cash register. He sees that one of those women is eagerly going through the books in the thriller section and the other one, seems a little lost, seems out of her element. Should he go help her out? Ask her what she is looking for? He doesn’t want to be pushy but he wants to be helpful. While he is still making the decision Mary swoops in and asks
“Hi, what are you looking for?” The woman gives her a bright warm smile, a smile that will make others smile, just like Frank has smile on his face right now. “I’m just looking around, I’m basically accompanying my friend, thank you for asking, I- um I’m not much of a reader,” the woman said scratching her head a little, the little girl still looking at her, there is a sudden glint of joy in her eyes. “Well what about academic books? Do you like Math? We have quite a variety of books.” The woman is in awe of this child, she is not sure how to say that Math is definitely not her strongest area. She tries to formulate an answer when Frank approaches them. “Hey Mary why don’t you go help out the other customer, she looks quite engrossed in her search, maybe she could use some help? Go on.” Mary excuses herself, mentions where the books on academia are kept and proceeds to help the other customer. The woman doesn’t fail to notice that the little girl has quite a captivating and charming personality, her eyes seem to sparkle. Frank notices how this woman seems to be in awe of Mary, also how she is fidgeting a little with her purse. “So, not a reader?” she turns towards him. He is taller than her, and what magnificent blue eyes, one can really get lost in them, probably she got lost in them too because she is trying to fetch an answer but words don’t come out. “Not much into talking as well I guess?” She is broken out of her haze and almost babbles “um no, oh no I am sorry, yeah I am not much of a reader but I talk, I can talk a lot at times actually.” she smiles. That warm smile again. Frank smiles back, and then there is a minute of silence but it’s not awkward, it’s the good kind of silence where you are enjoying the moment.
“What about fiction or maybe non-fiction? Poetry, short stories? Do you like comics?” she laughs at this, he is really trying. “Well I have read a few comics and short stories. I mean I have tried to read books but I haven’t been able to finish most of them, wow definitely not a conversation one should have with a bookstore owner but yeah I guess I haven’t been able to connect with books, or maybe I am just dumb.” she shrugs a little. “Hey that’s alright, I too am not a huge bookworm but I do enjoy reading when I get time. But we all have our own interests.” she wants to say something but maybe she shouldn’t, what if he thinks it’s stupid? She doesn’t want to embarrass herself. He understands she wants to say something and nods his head as if to encourage her to go on. “Alright so there is something that I enjoy reading a lot. I love reading Fan fiction. It’s like I am already connected to the characters and thus reading more about them, exploring different storylines, the whole concept of ‘What if?’ intrigues me.” She realizes she doesn’t say this out loud often, she tries to read his expressions, well he is smiling and not in a mocking way so she continues. “You know there are so many talented Fanfic writers out there, some of the stories are extremely beautiful. So yeah as you said, we all have our own interests.” Frank is charmed by her, right now she has joy in her eyes, he hasn’t come across someone before who has shared this interest of reading fan fiction, she seems passionate about this, and it’s charming and beautiful. Yes she is beautiful. “That seems super interesting.” he hopes to see that warm smile again and there it is. He smiles back. “Well I am glad you think so, not many people do. It’s not that I tell many people about this interest of mine, still. By the way that girl, um Mary? she seems so amazing, not to sound corny but ‘there is something about Mary’, she is so charming!” he chuckles “Well I see what you did there, and yeah she is amazing, she is my niece and we both recently started this new venture of a bookstore, it was her idea”. Well a good idea indeed.
“Oh look at me where are my manners? Hi! I am Frank” Before she could say her name Mary calls out for Frank. The other customer has selected her books and she is waiting by the cash register to buy them. “Well I guess it’s time to go.” She seems sad, why? She is not someone who can talk with strangers but she was enjoying this conversation. She gets so awkward while talking to someone she doesn’t know but this was different, he made her feel comfortable, she liked talking to him, she wants to talk more, why couldn’t her friend take some more time? They move towards the cash register, “Oh I am Y/n” he repeats her name, wanted to see how it feels. Once done packing the books, her friend pays him the money. It’s time to go. Frank think about something quickly, say something, it seems like now or never. Come on they are about to leave, “Hey!” Frank runs towards them, “If you are looking for any particular book, you can call us to check the availability, or we can try to get it for you if not available. Here, take this card it has the store’s number and um- my number” he looks at Y/n with hopeful eyes. Is he trying to give her his number? He kinda seems out of her league, is there a chance he enjoyed talking to her too? Y/n gets this sudden surge of confidence, which is unusual for her, and decides to ask directly. “Are you trying to give me your number?” Frank is flustered, he is trying to come up with something when she says “I wish you did” and it’s accompanied with that beautiful warm smile. Frank cannot hold back the huge smile that forms automatically on his face. “I was, I uh- liked talking to you, and would like to know you more.” Well now they aren’t the only people smiling, the other two have smiles on their faces too due to this interaction, though there smiles are more like cheeky smirks. Y/n takes out her phone, saves his number and texts him standing right there. He checks his phone “Y/n: I would like to know you more too, looking forward to it” He nods signaling the chain of texts that will be exchanged soon. Y/n and her friend open the door to go out when Mary excitedly says “Come again!” Frank sees her smile once again, the one that he will be seeing a lot very soon. “I will.” Y/n says and her friend laughs, she waves and they wave back and with this they leave. Mary is looking at Frank who is still looking at the door. “See Frank, I told you, a bookstore will be a great new venture” she smirks.
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kcatta-wodahs · 3 years
Text
Making Lore Out of the Angel Event
Im the definition of 'its not that deep but I'm going to dig a hole to make it that deep'
In this case its me making it that deep because otherwise this event is upsetting so I'm making some dark lore theories to make it make sense to me.
I'll have a lot of spoilers below. For the event and everything I know, which is up to like lesson 32 I think.
Basically, TLDR; this was an attack by Michael/their Father on Devildom. Simeon and Diavolo have successfully negated the threat by turning it into a game.
TLDR Thesis; The Celestial Realm is governed through careful mind control. The Demon Bros are not "avatars" because of being demons- they have been cursed by their Father to suffer as no other demon nor angel has to.
First we hear direct from Michael, and he's giving these bangles that appear to brainwash the main cast.
This was an attempt by their Father to bring them back under his control. By control, I mean this literally.
I've felt for a long time that the way the Celestial Realm seems to be run is... shady. It's a utopia to outside appearances only, and those who have been most deeply embroiled in the Great Celestial War know this.
The Great Celestial War was over free will, rather than the specifics of Lilith's situation. She was the catalyst for a long-time-coming revolt against the rulers of the Celestial Realm.
My logic for this:
The reason for Lilith's expulsion goes against the current action plan of the Celestial Realm. Peace between the realms? Sure, but their Father is bound to realize that you put angels, humans, and demons together you're going to end up with more angels like Lilith, who fall for other races. Why would he accept this truce if he lost his favored children over an issue that is very similar? Did he have a change of heart? Heavens no.
Luke's behaviour towards the demon's seems case-and-point. Luke is not the strange one out of the angelic transfer students- Simeon is. Not only that, Simeon is chosen not in an attempt to promote peace, but to protect Luke from being influenced. (Which is, again, the whole point\of the exchange program.)
That time we went to the Celestial Realm for real - Lucifer was worried. Scared, even. This can be explained by, you know, the War and Lilith.. but I wonder if it may be more sinister. Like perhaps being brainwashed.
Diavolo and Barbatos weren’t required to wear bangles to become less “demon-like” for the “party”. This is because the bangles were a ploy to get the brothers back.
My theory is that when an angel begins to show signs of rebellion or questioning the divine order, they are forcibly stopped. Michael is that enforcer, and these 'gifts' are a method of stopping them.
The bangles cause a person to act *perfectly angelic* against their free will. The people affected become all smiles and sunshine, so clearly nothing could be wrong with it, right? They’re happy, right?
No. Very not right, and we can see that through Satan.
Poor Satan is always the exception to the rule of the Brothers, as his circumstances are different from everyone else's.
In this case though, he's the one who provides insight on this mind control. 
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Let me remind you of the quotes Satan gives us during this time:
“I feel worked up.” “I don’t feel like myself at all.”
“It feels like something foreign is forcing my heart to be calm.” “Like my heart... becoming tranquil.”
Satan has never been an angel. He has never experienced this before. He has something the other brothers don’t: self-reflection. Satan can tell the difference between his feelings and feelings that are being imposed upon him. He tells you what he feels - “worked up” and “not like himself” and he is not smiling during this. He’s clearly unhappy, even though an angel might say he should feel unburdened by losing his anger.
He even mentions this.
“Normally, that wouldn’t seem like something bad, right?” “Something isn’t right.” “Maybe you shouldn’t come near me when I’m in this state.”
Satan is under the effects of the bangle, being forced to act angelic, but he can tell something “isn’t right.” He clearly shows that he thinks this is a “bad” thing, not because being calm is bad, but because it’s not “normal”. And can I remind you that he’s the Avatar of Wrath? The Sin that is most likely to be dangerous to be around - and yet it’s only when his anger is forcibly quelled that he thinks you should stay away from him. He knows that this is not something to desire. He knows that it is not happiness.
“I can’t concentrate on reading today.”
I mean, he’s obviously going through a lot, so that’s fair. But I have the theory that if he were to try and research this condition he wouldn’t be able to either. I have a theory about the Garden of Eden. My theory is about Paradise.
Remember when Eve ate the fruit? Do you know what that fruit was? Sin?
No. That fruit was knowledge.
Specifically, knowledge of good and evil. Now, why would this knowledge be something to keep from those under the control of the Celestial Realm? It sounds rather like they might be able to then make their own decisions of what is right and wrong.
Satan has known this from the beginning. Knowledge is power. The Ruler of the Celestial Realm, the other demons’ Father, knows this, too.
Why are there no other Avatars?
Sin was not something inherent to Devildom. Sin is a judgement sent from the Celestial Realm. There are no other Avatars because they are a wholly angelic creation. There are other posts that have examined the Sins as outlets, and how each of the brothers are attempting to find ways to allow themselves to express their sin so it does not overtake them.
From the get-go, we are shown that these Sins are a defining point for the brothers, but we’re also shown that they cause more trouble than anything else. Again, part-and-parcel of being a demon, right?
So why aren’t other demons like this?
Look at Diavolo and Barbatos, or even just the background demons who work across Devildom. Look at No. 2. They are all far more complex, and could even be considered normal. No. 2 is specifically meant to be based off of Mammon and his greed, but is much more rounded when we interact with it.
If Diavolo is meant to be the ruler of demonkind -- the paragon of what a demon should be -- then why would he not be the epitome of all of these Sins in one? What is Diavolo, instead?
Diavolo is accepting.
Hold up a moment here. What? Sorry y’all but it sounds to me like Mr. Demon Daddy King trusts his son enough to pass the kingdom on to him... so that must mean that Diavolo is behaving as a demon should.
Barbatos doesn’t question Diavolo’s choices. Nobody does. He’s an all around popular ruler. Devildom seems to be quite.. the opposite of what we’ve been trained to expect, huh? Trained by who exactly?
What are the Demon Brothers?
Cursed. They don’t act like other demons because they’re not like other demons. When they rebelled against their Father, they were punished for this act, but I posit that the punishment and the exile were two different acts. Their Father knew that leaving the Celestial Realm was not punishment to those who desired free will. So instead, he gave them Sin. Something that Demons are not normally bound to.
But how would the brothers know this? They only know what they’ve been taught by angels about demons. Surely these new, pressing desires come from turning into demons..? 
So, why was this not taken seriously?
Short answer: it was. But in the way that aligns with Diavolo’s ultimate goals.
Diavolo wants peace. 
Let’s Talk About Simeon
Simeon is an enigma and a half isn’t he?
Simeon is close with Michael, closer than Luke in any case. Now, I’ll be honest, I can’t remember if it was a fanfiction I read that said this or if it was canon so uh - forgive me. But Simeon was chosen to accompany Luke as an exchange student so that Luke would get some education. Simeon says this is to help relations, as Diavolo wants, but of course that’s what you would say as a sleeper agent?
Now, don’t get sad. Because we love Simeon here and we support him.
Simeon is wise and neutral. He seems to support the brothers, and even still wishes to foster a relationship with them. This could be seen as an attempt to bring them back, or some such, but I like to think that Simeon knows what’s wrong with the Celestial Realm.
Simeon, however, doesn’t think that a revolt can solve it. Simeon is working with Diavolo to create a form of peace - and has been transparent about the fact that Michael chose him to prevent Luke from being corrupted. I like to think he’s also been transparent with Diavolo about Michael’s actual goal. 
Simeon believes that the races should co-exist and love freely. How could love be evil, after all? Whether or not this is a new concept to him (because of his falling for you) or if this is just who he is, I’ll leave up to you and your preferences, but since he is now no longer undateable, it is established that he does not believe love between angels and humans to be bad - as his Father did with Lilith.
What happened, then?
My theory is that Simeon told Diavolo that Michael had given him a task - to give these bangles to the brothers to remind them of the joy they were missing by disobeying the Divine Order. Either that, or to brainwash them into coming back home. 
Simeon’s position would be revealed to Michael if he didn’t give the brothers the bangles, but he does not want to instigate another war either. So he told Diavolo Michael’s plan. 
Diavolo wants peace, and he knows that with time, the brothers can overcome this mind control as they had in the past - especially with his help. 
So thus comes the “party”. 
An excuse to make the bangles seem like a “harmless” gift, that had only gone wrong because of strange magical interference, when really they had done exactly what they were supposed to.
And a wonderful way to maintain peace while leaving the Celestial Realm to stew in their own pots. 
Simeon gets to maintain his facade for everyone - and put on a show for Michael as being loyal. He also gets to show Luke that perhaps being wholly angelic isn’t the way for some people, letting him learn a little more about peaceful coexistence. Nothing happens to ruin Diavolo’s grand plan for peace, and he gets to learn more about the curse that is set upon his friends - One that he hopes to be able to break someday, so they can live their lives unfettered by their Father.
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fatehbaz · 3 years
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“Being a bad biocitizen.”
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Marlene Feenstra (née McCorrister), my grandmother, was a Cree woman from Peguis First Nation. Peguis, our nation, is nestled among the ancestral lands and shared territories of the Cree, Anishinabeg, Assiniboine, and Métis peoples -- our homelands that sprawl out from the forks of the Red and Assiniboine Rivers in what is now Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. [...] Gram [was] born in 1936 [...]. She attended residential school [...], and then, as an adult, she was legally denied residence on her reserve due to her marriage to a non-Indian [...]. Yet, despite these and other experiences, and like many Indigenous people, my grandmother never thought of herself as being colonized. [...]
Three years ago, when my grandma passed away, I spent a few days going through the old photographs, newspaper clippings, calendars, and notes she had archived for over sixty years. [...] I was glad, on that cold Winnipeg afternoon, to appreciate her taste in interesting imagery. Their combined content lays out a scene ripe for analysis: One card depicts what it called the “Discovery of Canada”: Jacques Cartier presenting the “weird apparition” of an Indian Chief to the king and queen of France in 1536. A postcard named the “Canadian Rockies” displays a scene of Alexander Mackenzie, Simon Fraser, and La Verendrye: on the back, the card describes them as “great explorers who played stupendous and courageous roles in western development.” Another postcard features the nineteenth-century Métis leader Louis Riel, sitting inside a prison cell awaiting his federally sanctioned execution. Finally, at first glance out of place in this set, is a postcard with the name “Science and Invention” and an image of a basement laboratory peopled by Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, and Frederick Banting.
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It is difficult to say whether Gram chose these cards for how, taken together, they illustrate the curious relationships between colonial expansion, the confinement of Indigenous peoples, and scientific inquiry. If she did conceive of the reciprocal relationships connecting the logics of exploration, discovery, and innovation with histories of colonialism, then she was in good company.
Historians of colonial science, for example, have shown that there is a historical relationship between the development of what is now considered modern science, the technoscientific advances indelibly marking Western civilization, and European imperialisms and colonialisms. Further, Indigenous studies scholars have located modern science within an ongoing colonial system that, working in tandem (and, at times, in tension) with other institutionalized fields, overwrites Indigenous peoples’ knowledges of their existence as peoples in terms of the logics of citizenship, rights, sovereignty, and capital. [...]
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Advances in genomic knowledge are both intriguing and frightening given that the “gift” and “weight” of science and technology fields have always been simultaneously present for Indigenous peoples.
When I was invited to speak at “The Gift and Weight of Genomic Knowledge: In Search of the Good Biocitizen,” out of which this special report evolved, I was enthused by the rich conference rationale provided by organizers Joel Reynolds and Erik Parens. Consistent with Foucauldian scholarship such as that of Nikolas Rose, Carlos Novas, and Dorothy Roberts, the conference framed biocitizenship in relation to that shift provoked by increasing amounts of biological, and especially genomic, knowledge and data that are changing the ways that citizenship is being imagined. Civic responsibility in the age of biocitizenship, Reynolds and Parens observed, encompasses being and remaining healthy for the sake of ourselves and for the greater good of human populations: biometrically monitoring one's physical activity, seeking out direct-to-consumer genetic tests, coughing into the inside of one's elbow, employing barrier methods during sexual intercourse, and on and on are all examples of good bio-practice. In this spirit, biocitizenship -- the emphasis on the human population as biological -- has been endowed with the capacity to reconcile historic wrongs. The conference and this special report, as I understand them, are challenging us all to take pause amidst the accelerating pace of biomedical and genomic data generation and to critically reflect on the seemingly simple yet hugely difficult questions, what is a “good” biocitizen, and how do we become one?
I propose that one analytical pathway leading to said aspirational goodness might be found in its reverse: that is, in badness.
Following bell hooks's description of politicized looking relations, I am establishing these provocations to reorient, from my explicit vantage point, the set of concepts and real-world problems that this special report explores. As examined by hooks, in resistance struggle, the power of the dominated to assert agency by claiming and cultivating “awareness” politicizes looking relations -- one learns to look a certain way in order to resist. Reframing the terms of the discussion is a critical practice in also restructuring the power dynamics that shape common-sense ideas about what it means to be good. The exogenous generation of genomic knowledge about indigeneity, for example, exerts a scientific claim that one can see indigeneity in a way that actually matters. Seeing indigeneity through the prism of genomic knowledge is shaped by colonial lenses insofar as it is based on an understanding of indigeneity as primarily real, genetically. Academic and other ways of thinking that try to make sense of and represent genomic realities of the present are also structured by colonial looking relations. [...]
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Over twenty years ago, among the formative scholarship of early Indigenous studies, Vine Deloria Jr. published Red Earth, White Lies: Native Americans and the Myth of Scientific Fact (1995). Through this book and his other works, Deloria locates modern science within a colonial matrix that seeks to secure itself as a panacea of truthful knowledge creation at the expense of Indigenous sovereignties. [...] Fields, including scientific fields, that attempt to externally translate Indigenous peoples’ self-conceptions into a categorical or taxonomical language are interfering with their sovereign way of being.
Since the publication of Red Earth, White Lies, others have considered what the complicated entanglements of Indigenous knowledges are as they exist in relationship to science and technology fields. In Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants (2013), Robin Wall Kimmerer, for instance, provides a textually melodic illustration of the complementarities between botany, Potawatomi ecology, and the human and nonhuman relations that sustain her everyday experience. Noenoe Silva's Aloha Betrayed: Native Hawaiian Resistance to American Colonialism (2004) similarly considers how Kanaka Maoli have leveraged modern technological advancements in press and printing to oppose the illegal annexation of their territories. These works and others like them have unlocked methodological potential that is not premised on orthodox cultural expectations by framing the use and formation of twentieth- and twenty-first-century sciences and technologies as being instead Indigenous. These novel works set a stage for elaborate consideration of how engagement with technosciences on Indigenous peoples’ own terms might support their local governance systems: their ways of relating in and with localities of misewa (all that exists). [...]
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Fundamental to colonial civilizing missions were the so-called gifts of science and technology that Western imperial powers gave to their colonies and subjects.
Through the rhetorical prism of gifting, scientific claims to the “greater good” have been an enduring logic justifying scientific pursuits, while the collateral damage characteristic of incremental and experimental scientific methods have been disproportionately felt by Indigenous peoples as well as all other bodies deemed unreasoned (including human and nonhuman). [...]
Although there are now many versions of justice in concept and practice, many if not all of them are shaped through the presumed possibility that a normative good exists and that the journey of becoming good is, in itself, good. [...]
I charge non-Indigenous and Indigenous peoples alike to be bad: unpack and undermine the investments they have in propertied [...] state-based sovereignty and nationalism, capitalist cultures of consumption, and settler fantasies of being rightful and good.
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Jessica Kolopenuk. “Provoking Bad Biocitizenship.” Hastings Center Report Vol. 50 Issue S1. June 2020.
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angelkurenai · 3 years
Text
Heaven on Earth - Dean Winchester x Reader (French Mistake/Soulmates AU)
Title: Heaven on Earth
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word count: 4,221
Warnings: Spoilers for 15x20 I guess
Prompt: Hey! I love your fics a lot. Especially the French mistake trope ones! I was wondering if you're taking requests cuz if you are I would so love a soulmate french mistake one for the finale.. had been something how you'd give it your own take. If not, it's totally okay I love your work regardless! <3
Imagine instead of dying and going to heaven, Dean is brought back to life by Jack who choses to give Dean the ending he deserves. An ending which he had been hoping to live through but never got the chance. An ending, a life, where he gets to meet his soulmate, you, whose name is written on his wrist and whom he never got to meet simply because you weren’t in the same universe. 
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“Huh?” Dean breathed out and blinked several times, letting his eyes adjust to the change of scenery that came a little bit as a shock for all the different kind of reasons than anyone else would expect “Looks like I finally made it. Who would've thought?”
He let an easy smile rest on his lips as he took the scene around him, unfamiliar as it was there was still a great deal of hospitality that made his so comfortable in this lovely tiny living room. It wasn't familiar in any way that meant that he had seen it before but it was something he could very easily get used to, a place to love and call home. So much so that he had to ignore the pang in his chest when he remembered that he couldn't get to show it to his brother, not anytime soon that is. It was something that he would have to accept, no matter how hard it proved to be.
“Weird.” he mumbled, approaching a window and looking outside, the city although again not familiar, looking as calm and normal as it could be “I don't remember this one.”
The change of scenery while, yes, expected after one's death – and Dean was no stranger to the concept – did make him frown at what he was really coming face to face with. “Did they change things around here?”
He asked practically at nobody but that didn't mean that he wouldn't receive an answer “Well, to be fair I do think that chair was by the other side of the room. And those books, she must have moved them too.”
“Son of a-” Dean jumped in surprise and soon pressed his fist against his mouth to stop himself from continuing that sentence. Before he even had the chance to wonder if it was even right to swear in a place like this, all words died out in his lips when he turned to face the person that spoke up.
“Jack?” he whispered, almost in disbelief; his eyes widening.
“He-hello-” a small huff left Jack's lips when Dean closed the distance and enveloped the boy in a hug which he returned “Hello Dean, it's good to see you again. Though I don't believe it has been that long.”
“Yeah” Dean laughed “Way to rub it in my face how I fucked it up so soon huh?”
“You never... I never said you did, Dean.” Jack frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side “You've done great. You have done so in fact your entire life, even when it was exceptionally hard, even when other men would have given up. You kept going. And, yes, it might have been rather painful sometimes and exhausting and seemed never-ending, but it did. It ended. And this is what you get, this is your ending Dean. Peace. I-” Jack paused, looking around “I wanted to do some things differently but it is not all up to me, there are rules to the universe and how it works. Balance you see. So, I'm... sorry that Sam can't be here, not yet at least.”
“Alright kid, don't make me tear up already, will ya?” he joked but looked away when he felt the pang in his chest again. Heaven or no heaven, he was dead and Sam was alone. Miracle too. And oh that still hurt and it would hurt for a long while.
He cleared his throat and spoke up again, instead “Ah yeah, pretty much got that. But no, no Jack you've- you've done more than just enough. Not that there are a lot of options for the other side, but given everything this is really the best one so- thank you. This- this is good. Real good.” Dean looked at his friend, trying to convey as much of his gratitude as possible. For what he didn't know where to begin with, especially after everything that Jack had done but maybe more than anything it was about how Sam wasn't there with him. Not yet, and hopefully not before he'd lived a full and happy life.
“You're welcome. You deserve it.” Jack shrugged once more, smile bright on his face.
“So you uh you stayin' or will you be gone soon? This place is kind of... strange to me, but I'm sure there must be a kitchen somewhere. Could get you something?” he suggested, already making his way around the place while trying to figure out where the kitchen was. It was a small apartment though so it didn't take long for him to figure it out; Jack closely following along.
“Uhm no I won't be staying long, I just wanted to come and see if you're all settled, if you've rested and all that.” he shrugged softly.
“Well, I'm more or less dead, so hey-” he actually found himself chuckling and ignoring the frown that set on Jack's face “Can't get any more rest than that, right?” he opened the fridge and started looking for a beer, speaking again before Jack had the chance to do so and voice his concerns “So uh, love what you did with the place. What was it really again?” he pointed to the living room's direction as he closed the fridge, setting the pie and a beer in front of him.
“Oh uh-” Jack blinked, looking towards the living room “I told you, it wasn't really me. (Y/n). She must have moved around some of the furniture. I'm pretty sure the books too.”
He tried not to let it show. He prayed that it didn't show. He knew that that Jack wouldn't question it, but that didn't mean that it wasn't there. That it didn't happened. That his heart didn't do that same crazy jump and his hand, if not his entire being, shook at the mention of the name. Jack didn't even blink and as he brought the beer to his suddenly dry lips he thought that maybe he'd gotten the hang of it after practically a lifetime. A lifetime without a soulmate that is. And the thought slipped in his mind like it always did and he bit the inside of his cheek to get himself under control. Jack didn't know and Dean was far from in the mood to talk about another, if not the most, painful chapter of his life. Maybe... hopefully he had gotten better with the years and none of it showed.
“No uh that's not exactly what I meant, buddy. But never mind.” he could feel his throat closing, his body betraying him with that same unbearable grief only an empty side of the bed could bring, so he made sure to speak up before it got the best of him the way it usually did “You creating angels now too?”
“Angels?” Jack frowned before he shook his head, clearly confused “No, I- Not yet. But... (Y/n) is not an angel. She's human.” another soft shrug.
And there was the name again, for the second time in less than a minute. Too much too soon for Dean to take. He found himself sitting in one of the two only chairs in the kitchen. His hand found its way to his wrist, subconsciously rubbing over the ink that covered his skin ever since he was a teen. Maybe it brought some kind of comfort, got him the chance to feel like you were close by and offering him comfort yourself when in reality all he had was your name and, thank heavens, no line over it. He didn't know how he'd get to deal with the fact if he was ever to see a line. He was thankful that at least up until the moment he died the words were there, solid and beautifully curved to form your name, until the very last moment he was able to feel their warmth. Up until it all was enveloped in darkness. His life had not had many advantages or comforts, but knowing that you were safe (even if far away from him) was more than enough to make up for all of it.
Though that thought now brought about another storm of dangerous, if not painful, ideas. Ideas about how you were going to deal with his death. Dean was and would always be weak about you, even if he'd never met you. He didn't know how he'd take it and now he had to consider, think and imagine how you'd deal with a line over his name on your wrist.
The mere thought made his heart twist painfully in his chest quiet similar but also so different to any other time. To hurt you was the last thing he'd ever want. And knowing that he had inevitably caused that, well, it would make resting ten times more hard.
“Humans making changes around heaven, wow. Jack you're really stepped up your game up here.” he went for nonchalant and hoped it worked.
“Humans...” Jack narrowed his eyes with a tilt of his head before it seemed to dawn on him and his eyes widened softly “Dean... you're right, there have been changes in heaven. I felt like it was time to move on, that it was time for things to be done different by someone who cares. By someone who wouldn't abandon it all and not care to listen. It's exactly why I asked for Castiel's help, anyway.” the name caught the hunter's attention and he did pause to frown but Jack didn't stop his words, he kept talking “We changed things so that heaven wouldn't about reliving your favorite memory. It would be simply about living. Living on forever and about to make new memories.”
“So that's what it was huh? And here I wondered when-”
“B-But this is not about any of it! That's what you don't get.” Jack said fast enough, cutting Dean off who blinked in surprise.
“Do I have to ask what it is or will you just go off rambling again? You seem to be on a roll today.” he took a sip of his beer, his lips pulling into a smile that he could barely feel in all honesty.
Just following along some very familiar, painfully familiar, steps. Making small talk about anything and everything that his mind could come up with, was one of them. Anything as long as his treacherous heart stopped with the painful beats. But the echo of your name in his head didn't seem to want to die out and he had to try harder.
That is if Jack didn't-
“It's simple.” he smiled sweetly “(Y/n).”
“A-Alright-” his voice shook and he hated himself for letting it show, but he was a weak man deep down and there was only so much he could take “Listen buddy. I don't know what's happened with you or who this-” he choked on his words.
Oh dear, he choked on his words. That had not happened to him in years, and yet here he was. Unable to say the name of the soulmate he had never met. Unable to say the name of the woman whom he dreamed about every night, coming up with you'd look like, what you'd be like in and out. He choked because while it has been a long time, he could still not fight the longing or ache in his soul whenever h heard the name. And best, or maybe worst, of all is that he couldn't fight the hope that rose in his chest. So many cases, so many places visited and whenever he heard that name he both prayed and feared it was you.
So many times he got his hopes up. And so many times all those hopes turned into mere dust, slipping through his fingers. Each time more painful than the previous. Leading, ultimately, to a life without you.
Really, he could only take so much after hearing your name so many times in only a few seconds. He just couldn't do it to himself, couldn't bring himself to say it. He took a deep breath in and clenched his fists “I don't know who that chick is, or what you've really trying to do here. I'm just thankful for everything you've done because this-” he looked around him with a fond smile “This place is more than good for him. It is, both literally and figuratively, heaven.”
“Well, that's just it.” Jack tilted his head to the side “This... is not heaven.”
“Oh yeah? Well, it sure as heck doesn't seem like hell either. Unless they did some general uh renovations?” he asked, almost playfully, as he looked around with a nod of his head “Oh yes, lovely color on that wall right there. Goes well with the-”
“(Y/n) picked it.” Jack shrugged, the name effectively managing to close Dean's mouth shut - and he almost glared at the boy for thinking that he could be doing it on purpose at this point “And this-” he turned back to Dean, face still serious “Is not hell either.”
Oh really now? Then, it does seem like pur-
“No, Dean.” Jack said firmly, cutting him off “You- you're not dead.”
“Uh you sure about that buddy? Cause I think I can remember pretty vividly that I got impaled. Like, Olaf from Frozen style and all.” Dean scoffed a small laugh, taking a sip of the beer. And boy, was he dead, but that still tasted good enough.
“Well, yes but actually no. See, you were on the brink of death but that doesn't mean you have really died. I saw it. I saw it all, I was there and kept you alive or, well, almost-dead long enough for Sam to... give you a hunter's funeral and then for me to put you back together, to heal every would and bring you here.” a smile slowly spread on his lips “This other world. To live in. To make new memories as I told you.”
“What- What's that supposed to mean?” Dean's voice got more gruff as realization start to dawn on him that Jack was very much serious about all of it “And, anyway, didn't destroy every other world there was?”
“When I brought everyone back on your world, I- I was able to do the same with every other world he had destroyed. Including this one. Dean, I mean-” he laughed softly “Did you really think, that after everything you'd been through, after everything you'd given for that world, after all the people you'd saved that I- I would just be another version of Chuck that let that be your ending? You deserve this. You deserve to live this life, a life where you have all you really want. I mean Sam is not here, sure, but soon I hope I will be able to come here too.
“Hold up. You really mean to say that I- I'm- I'm alive?” Dean frowned deeply when Jack nodded “Then wh-what the hell am I doing here? Why the fuck am I not back home? What kind of shitty game-”
“Because you can't. It's- It disrupts balance. Anything hat dies must stay dead, that's a rule that has been broken too many times and we couldn't bear it anymore. However, here-” he looked around him with a smile “You can be alive. And you can live a long, happy life. Without regrets.”
At this point Dean had every reason to think the kid was doing it on purpose. First mentioning your name so often and now, now this was not just pouring alcohol into an open would but rather tearing it open even more. Because yes, he had many regrets in life. Far more than he could ever count. Some of them he was or could get to overcome easily so. But his biggest ones? The ones related to you would always be there, though, and they would always haunt him worse than his nightmares.
“Why here then? What does this world have that I could possibly want so much as to-”
But before Dean could ever get to complete his sentence, let alone get a reply - one that wouldn't really cause him a heart attack - the door burst open with a loud thud. Dean jumped in his place, a frown on his face and worry starting to slip into his very own bones when Jack rose from his seat with a smile. But before he could even bring himself to question it, he moved away from his seat and made his way to the door with only a few long strides. Only to be met with the sight of one too many bags from the market, filled to the brim with food and other essentials, and the sound of an annoyed -but entirely adorable if he could say so -grumbling and cursing.
“Bloody idiots. Ignorant people. Fucking idiocy more infinite than the whole damn universe. Worse than the pandemic itself.” he saw you pull the mask you were wearing away angrily, only to look more cute in Dean's eyes and alright, a bit more than just cute because he was not dead after all and if did run into you anywhere else he would gladly try his luck, but this was far from an ideal situation, especially as you-
“No wonder Chuck would wanna snap those away. Heck wouldn't I-” but your words were cut off as a screamed ripped through your lips the second you closed the door and turned towards them, probably for the first time realizing they were there and as expected the bags you were holding fell from your hands.
“What the fuck?!” you yelped, hand pressed over your chest as you stared at him with wide eyes.
“Whoa whoa it's ok, calm down. Calm down. We're not gonna hurt you. It's alright, we-”
“Calm down!? You almost gave me a freaking heart attack dude! Because when I said that I would die a happy woman if I were to meet Jensen Ackles even once after that finale, the scenario of chapter one of a bad soulmates fanfic is not what I had in mind! You- You-” you looked around after trying to take a few calming breathes “You just broke into my apartment.” you almost whispered in disbelief “Have you gone insane, man? Who the hell is 'we'?”
“Oh, right. She can't see me.” Jack told him only afterwards and Dean rolled his eyes at his friend.
“Oh great, thanks for the heads up, buddy.” he muttered to his friend. He shook his head before dragging a hand down his face. He then looked at you, finally taking a good look at you and trying not to let his confusion show at the weird flip his heart did “Listen, I'm not crazy, I swear. I'm sure this may look very confusing and hard to explain but I can assure you that once you hear me out, everything will make sense. Just- just don't scream again, yeah? Or freak out or anything.”
“Nah it's cool. I mean why would I freak out? Because the actor I, more or less, look up to and have been a fan of for years is standing in the middle of my crappy and messy living room, dressed as my favorite character on top of that. Without any previous warning or time for me to prepare. Yeah, pff-” you scoffed, waving your hand “Why would I freak out? I can be calm. It's not like this is some kind of dream coming true, anyway. I can be the definition of calm this moment. I'm not freaking out.”
“...You're freaking out.” he said after barely three seconds. Letting you take a few deep breaths of air to calm yourself down, because apparently you needed it. Even if he didn't understand why.
“I'm definitely freaking out.” you admitted, nodding at him as you pressed your lips in an adorable pout which was too distracting if he could admit so to himself after blowing out some air.
“Better now?” he asked hopefully and you held his gaze for a few seconds before shaking your head.
“Definitely not. This might take an hour or two. Or maybe a month? Just- just to let it all settle in you know? I'm dreaming, I definitely must be dreaming. You're just a dream huh? Come on, just admit it. It will be easier to accept. I mean-” you shrugged, looking away with a shrug as you mumbled, mostly to yourself “Wouldn't be the first time.”
“I'm- Sorry, what?” he asked after a few seconds. Maybe Jack was right, this was better than heaven.
“Nothing.” you shook your head fast, and in a far too adorable way “Nothing. I didn't say a thing.” you cleared your throat and looked away from him, letting out a sigh as Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. Instead, let himself chuckle at your too-adorable ramble that followed “This is- this is insane. If I knew that 2020 would end with me meeting Jensen Ackles then I would have never judged its ability to pull the craziest shit on us.”
“Je- Who?” Dean blinked a couple times though, before letting out a long sight and shaking his head “Really?” he just looked straight at Jack, not caring how crazy he looked at that moment “But of all those worlds, it had to be this one? You know what buddy? Maybe I'd have rather stayed dead.”
“No you wouldn't. I know. So do you.” Jack said with a far-too-knowing smile that made Dean narrow his eyes at him.
“Yeah” you dragged the word, effectively getting his attention - not that it was that hard for you “Sure. Not crazy at all.” you chuckled.
“Not crazy, sweetheart.” he shrugged “And certainly not Jensen Ackles, sorry to disappoint.”
Oh yeah? Then if you're not Jensen who are you? Dean Winchester?” you raised an eyebrow, smile playful on your lips and far too distracting for Dean, but there was no way he would dare admit it.
Confusion passed through his eyes before his interest was peaked “Bingo. You couldn't be more right, sweetheart.”
“Aha sure.” you still chuckled, lips pulling into a smirk that he liked more than he should already “There are cameras set around here, right? Like, of course there are. Is this some kind of goodbye gift though, to the fans for the finale and what not?” you started looking around for said cameras. He momentarily got distracted by the distance that only lessened between the two of you as you moved around him.
He made sure to snap out of it though before he made too much of a fool of himself “Oh don't know what cameras you're talking about but this- it ain't that. It's more complicated than that. As in-” he shrugged “I went on a hunt with Sammy, I died, he burned the body, Jack here whom you cannot see put my back together again am guessing kinda like a human puzzle, stuffed my soul back inside and dropped my ass on your living room without a warning. So, really, it's just as much of a shock to me as it is to you.”
“So you're keeping it up huh? Alright then. I'll go along with it. I am guessing that since I am also part of this story, I should probably introduce myself hm?” you smirked and he shrugged, playful as well.
“Well, it wouldn't be bad anyway. Until you believe me, that is. And Figured I should put a name to the beautiful face.” he tried to seem casual about it but he was anything but “Dean Winchester, pleasure to meet ya. And sorry for crashing in the middle of your apartment like this.”
“Wonderful.” but instead of reaching for his extended hand to shake, you grabbed a grocery bag and handed it to him cheekily “Help me place all these stuff in their place and I might just forgive you.” you shrugged grabbing some of the bags and making your way to the kitchen, only to pause when you realized he wasn't following “What? Saving people, hunting things, the family business, ain't it? Well, there is no monster here to hunt but oh could I use some saving from the terribly exhausting job of cleaning these.”
“You- for real?” he gaped at you in disbelief.
“Hmh. Couldn't be more real. Take the rest, will you?” you grinned at him and started walking towards the kitchen again, leaving him to stare after you and maybe take a few seconds to bathe in the warmth you laughter brought to him. Dean only shook his head, laughing to himself as well before started to grab the rest of the bags, noticing how you'd left the heavier back on purpose.
But it was during moments like this, when he really felt like there would be no troubles and no more thoughts that the world pulled the most cruel kind of jokes on him. And instead of calm, his world fell apart... or in this case fell into perfect place. For the first time now, in his entire life.
“Oh and for you help, a reward is in accord. Name's (Y/n) (Y/l/n), and it is a pleasure.”
Only for Jack to add in a low voice barely three seconds later and verify each and every thought and fear and hope running through his veins in that moment.
“Because this world has the one that can give you the real heaven, on Earth. Your soulmate.”
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13thbaronzemo · 3 years
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THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 1
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Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader
Rated E (Explicit)
You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation's neighbors, and the baron himself wants a tour after closing hours.
Disclaimer: Written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up some time after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.
Castle Zemo is one of the only historical Sokovian sites still standing and it now belongs to Czechia. After each of its Balkan neighbors had a slice, the once collapsing state had become more united than it had been in decades. And it had its people to thank for it. The Sokovian diaspora in the Czech Republic tried their best to preserve their eroding history by nourishing their new sovereign state’s interest in it. Among the people attempting to preserve Sokovian culture is the youngest conservator to ever walk the castle grounds: you.
While your age may have led many to assume that what you lacked in experience you made up for it in spirit. However, after asking the security staff to look through last night’s recordings to confirm your ghost sighting, they all seemed to agree that there is such a thing as ‘too much spirit’.
You know what you saw and it was Heinrich Zemo. He seemed to be standing still, almost as if he were posing for a painting. It just so happened that before him, handing illustrious and heavy off the wall was the portrait of the first baron, a golden crown adorning his royal purple hood. While the twelfth baron had died alongside the fourteenth while fleeing Novi Grad, there was nothing to chain his soul to that place anymore. In a universe filled with aliens, androids, and sorcerers, the world you live in might as well be haunted by restless spirits.
Haimo, the security guard and the only person besides yourself on the premises that night, had agreed to stay by your side for a second night. You even made him lend you a walkie-talkie and keep his on. They’ll be two witnesses tonight.
“I’m headed towards the west wing. Keep your eyes on the camera. Over.”
“Got it,” he said through the static. “Over.”
You were careful to walk on the carpet and skip any flimsy floorboard out of fear of spooking the spirit. A living person spooking a dead one? That was a concept you wouldn’t have considered before your first encounter with the twelfth baron had ended so briefly. You had run in the opposite direction when you saw the specter at the end of the hall and the sound of your heels hitting the wall made him disappear into the dark. Tonight, you’d be just as quiet as he was and stay hidden in the shadows.
As you neared the end of the hall, you spoke to him once more. “Haimo, what’s the time? Over”
“Ten to three, boss. Over.”
“I’ll turn it off, but you can’t take your eyes off the screen okay? Pay attention to the painting. Over.”
“Got it. Over.”
Behind the velvet ropes, between two tall windows, and out of the moon’s way, you stood as perfectly still as the painting. In the silver moonlight, the golden shine of the baron and his baroness’s jewels was as blinding as the real things. Just beyond the painting was the royal vault where the royal family jewels lay when they were not out on display. Tonight, you prayed it was Helmut I Zemo’s spirit that stalked the halls and not a burglar searching for the baron’s treasures.
You waited for ten more minutes, but it felt like ten hours. You had been on your feet all day, putting every golden bracelet and precious stone away in vaults and setting up checking every camera, and then double-checking the cameras in the west wing. After ten hours, you hear the floor creak.
Then, another ten hours later, the floor creaks again. However this was, alive or dead, they didn’t know the castle like you did. It couldn’t have been the first baron. Still, you held your breath as the specter you blinked and missed the other night was lit up by the moon tonight. With his face obscured by a royal purple hood and his stride as assured as a leader’s, you swore it had to be him. He stepped on almost every flimsy floorboard, so it couldn’t have been him. Still, you held your breath as he passed your hiding place and skipped the velvet ropes.
He stood there, as either man or spirit, almost as breathless and statuesque as you. And he folded his arms and raised his head, just as the painting did. The only thing missing was the crown atop his head. And his baroness. You tried not to blink, but when you inevitably did, he moved to remove his hood. No, not a hood. His mask. Dark hair and light skin shone in the moonlight. He looked opaque from where you were standing, not translucent at all. That didn’t make him look any less like the man in the painting himself, so you sucked in a breath.
When he moved again, it was to face the shadowy place where you stashed yourself away. He had heard you. Even as you covered your mouth and remained motionless, you had no hope of staying hidden any longer. He moved. Again. He was closing in on you. Oh, he looked so much like Helmut I that you were ready to kneel and ask for a pardon. Or, rather, ready to collapse due to the lack of air in your lungs. Instead of doing the former or the latter, you chose a third option: running to the other end of the corridor. Again.
You were within arm's reach when your heels hit the floor. As you weren't a sprinter or a runner and have been on your feet all day and the following night, you collapsed on the carpet. But, before the baron could catch up, you turned on the walkie-talkie: “Haimo, help me!”
“What? Boss, where are you? Are you still in the west wing? Over”
“Can’t you see me on camera? Can’t you see him?” You screamed, uncaring of human or spirit ears that might hear.
“I can’t see anybody, boss. There’s no movement in the west wing. Over.”
A hand came out of nowhere, covered in the same royal color, and yanked the walkie-talkie away from your fallen form. And what felt like the same slick material was wrapped around the back of your neck. “Tell your friend you’re safe and sound and not in the west wing.” The fabric that covered the fingers holding your head down felt frigid against your already chilled spine. Whatever he was, he wasn’t visible to anyone else but yourself. You had no choice but to comply and cleared your voice before shakily responding to reassure him of this: “Y-yes, milord.”
That official address caught your capturer off guard and you could’ve sworn he seemed to listen up on your neck. “Good.” Nevertheless, he pressed the button and bought the device closer.
“I was just fucking with you. I’m in the bathrooms. In the east wing. Over.”
“Not funny, boss.”
“You were right though,” you spoke, and let a shiver run through you as his fist tightened in the tassels of your hair. “There is no ghost. Over.”
“Have a good one, boss. Over.”
“You did good,” he spoke again, a whisper as chilling and powerful as the wind. “I would hate for us to be interrupted, wouldn’t you? Get up.”
Being allowed to walk on your legs again didn’t mean much when you were being guided by an iron grip. With his hand tangled up in your hair, head facing the floor, he walked you past the velvet ropes and right to the painting he still seemed to have walked out of.
“Blue blood doesn't make one immortal,” He started speaking, snatching you up and straightening your back so that you were facing the royal couple. Then, sliding a gloves hand up your side as the other one slid down your and onto your shoulder, he breathed into your ear from behind. “But it does give one the power to persevere beyond death. My ancestors all lived and died with their wealth, but my parents chose to secure their money in something a little more secure than a vault.” When you gasped, he grabbed onto your other shoulder, smoothing your sleeves. “Yes, I know you’ve been keeping the treasure tucked away, but the Czech state owns this land now. I thank my father every day for our German bank accounts, otherwise I’d be scrambling to survive.” His chest was hot against your back and even the hands holding onto your arms were warm, the heat of them seeping through the gloves. You never heard of a ghost whose touch feels like fire, but his presents, his form pressed against your own, made your spine shiver all the same. “I know it’s late, but I would like a tour. What do you say, my dear? Shall we start with the vault?”
“Yes, s-sir,” you swallowed a scream that threatened to rip out of your throat. The fear of his ripping it out himself was great, but what was greater was the chill of the castle overtaking you once he stepped away from you to give you enough space. Your fingers were trembling as they touched the frame, and it took you a second too long to find the notch in it. Once you did and everything clicked into place, you heard him chuckle behind you.
“Do you need help with that my dear?”
“Thank you, sir,” you struggled not to shake as his hand was placed atop of yours and you both pulled on the frame unlocking the painting from the wall like a door.
“What happened to ‘milord’?” He let go of you and you let go yourself, stepping toward the hidden vault while under his heated gaze. You could feel it at the back of your neck, the memory of his manhandling still lingering there. “I think I prefer it to ‘sir’.”
Introducing the combination, information only you were privy to, was proving to be more difficult under his scrutiny. It was as if the baron himself was watching your every move and you had better make your next one a good one. “Whatever you wish, milord.”
“I wish to see my family’s treasure,” he chuckled, but you couldn’t figure out why he was so amused. “Do you need help with this as well?”
“I got it,” you answered, agitated by his pressuring presence. “I mean,” you cleared your throat as you opened the vault door. “There’s no need to, milord.” Then, turning to him, you offered a small and curtsy on shaking legs.
“Very good, my dear. Now,” he caught you before you collapsed and looped your arm around his own. “What can you tell me about these?”
You looked towards the treasure inside, his dark smirk a bigger strain on your eyes than the shimmering gold in the silver moonlight.
“They were f-forged for the first baron Zemo, Helmut The First. The crown and the chain belonged to him, as you can see in the painting,” You skipped a beat as he squeezed you into the small space with no means to escape. You were so close, your breath fogged up the gold and dimmed the shine of the crown. “H-he often wore it atop his cawl.”
“The purple hood, you mean?” He asked and arrested you with the sight of his masked face. To keep you from creeping away, he let your arm escape the loop but captured your middle in another one. His chest, hot and hard, was against your back once more. “I know it’s not exactly the lord’s garb, but I believe I’ll look just as good in designer clothes. Would you mind if I…?”
“Whatever you wish, milord,” you whispered, all the wind having been knocked out of you as the warmth of his breath, filtered to the fabric of his mask, hit the back of your neck.
“I’m going to need your help this time around,” He removed the crown from the bust bringing it down so that you could easily grab it from his hands. “There is no mirror here, you see.”
“Of course,” you tried not to let it slip through your trembling fingers as he turned to face you fully.
“Of course what?”
“Of course, milord,” you corrected yourself and crowned him, the golden band fitting over the royal purple mask like his royal purple gloves.
“Heavy is the head that wears it, but the crown might be heavier,” he craned his neck right, then left, and, while you couldn’t see it, a smirk shimmered in his deep dark eyes.
You mirrored his mirth with a smile of your own, albeit weak. “It fits you, milord.”
“Father never let me wear it. I was but a boy back then,” he touched the sides of it where the band and his temple met. “It was summer the last time I saw it. We’d always come to the castle in August. The stone walls keeps the place cool in the summer months.”
“You had to grow into it.”
“Do you believe I’ve grown into it, my dear?” His hands were on your shoulders, stroking your skin through the shirt.
“Yes, milord.”
“Show me,” he squeezed down, fingers forceful now. “Kneel.”
He needn’t push you down, your knees already buckled at his command. Yet you were still shoved to the floor.
“Would you serve me?” He demanded, glowering down at you like the grand painting always would, with a dark demeanor and a golden crown atop a royal purple cawl.
“Yes, milord,” you breathed out the little air still in your lungs. And, determined to show your devotion to him, to the barony and all of Sokovian history, you fondled the front of his hands with two sweaty, unsure hands. His hands slid up your shoulder and smoothened back your hair, so you were more confident when you unclothed him.
“Is this how you plan to serve me?”
“Whatever you wish.” The harnessed of his crotch and the way he pushed it into your palms told you everything you needed to know. He was eager, but, as you shifted your trembling thigh, you realized that it was the both of you. “Lord Zemo.”
“I wish I were fucking that pretty little peasant mouth,” he heaved, heat coming off of his crotch as you uncovered it, pulling down his pants. Brushing back all the hair out of your eyes, he twisted it into a bun at the top of your head.
When you opened your mouth and rolled down your tongue like a red carpet, you finally freed his cock. As it landed on the saliva-slick surface, he sighed: "I wish you'd take my cock deep in your throat, as deep as it can go." Then, taking himself in his hand by the hilt, he slid inside. "And watch your teeth."
Your answer to this was to lock your lips around the head. It was hot, salty, and sweet, like a kiss stolen in a wet dream. Once you began suckling it, his hips started snapping. You've never heard of a ghost grunting before, but you've listened to men lose their sanity between a woman's lips. He was holding himself back, halting his hips, yet his words flowed freely
"Have you done this before, my dear? Have you ever served a man like this?" The man mirage called you closer, the hand at the bun bunched up atop your head forcing you forward. "Have you ever served a baron before?"
He already knew the answer, but you bobbed your head and blabbered a response anyway. No, you have not. You've served the barony for your entire custodian career, but this was as close that you've ever gotten to actual royalty. And it just so happened to be the baron himself, wearing gold and wrapped in the royal colors. Your knees hurt and so did your jaw, but you were his to do as he pleased.
"No, I didn't think so," he grunted, his voice gravely as he instructed you. "Breathe through your nose. I'm going to fuck your pretty little peasant face."
Holding onto his hips for support, you surrendered to him your entire skull. You couldn't even moan anymore, couldn't even move on your own. All you could do was gag each time his spongy, sweet, and salty cockhead hit the tender spot at the back of your throat. Through the tears, you saw him watching you through the eyes sockets, eyes searing through your soul. He watched himself wrecking you, fucking your face, and watched you being wrecked.
"Good girl," he growled, no longer a man or a ghost, but rather a lion. "That's a good girl." He was in a frenzy, fucking you fast and furiously. All you could do is take what was given to you and gargle. There was spit, there were tears, but the baron drove his dick into you like you were the most desirable damsel he's ever seen. "You serve me so well. Such a good girl. Such a good-"
All of a sudden, he stopped short of spilling down the throat he tore open. You felt the trepidation in the way it twitched, but it was ripped away from you as he retreated his cock from your mouth.
"Fuck."
As you coughed and blinked the tears away, you saw it in his hands, drowning in your drool, swollen and red. He squeezed down on it and seemed determined to contain it and all the come that was supposed to be swallowing.
"Get up," he heaved, his chest growing and shrinking under the security of his shirt. He was a man after all. "I want to you, but I don't want to fuck a peasant pussy," he held out his hand, the glove dirty with your drool and his precum. After you took it and stood on lame legs as he held onto you tight, he directed you to the diadem still in the vault. "I want to make love to a baroness."
Your mind was still in a haze when he sat the diadem atop your head. You couldn't make out your heavy breathing over the sound of his own. Still, you looked up, his crown as steady as his stare, and saw what must've been your reflection in the golden surface.
"There she is," he tilted your chin, thumb stroking the skin. "My beautiful baroness." As one handheld onto your face, the other snuck under your skirt and pushed your panties aside. You must've been so hot, so moist, you seeped through his gloves. Of course, you invited them in, those intrusive fingers, moaning when they moved to part your labia. "What is my lady's wish?"
"Make love to me," you whined, licking your lips at the thought of his tasty thick cock all up in your cunt. "My lord."
"Whatever you wish," he dropped your chin and lifted your leg. Then, as you tried to balance yourself on the other, he lifted it, hooking both of them around his hips.
You scrambled to secure your arms around his shoulders as he slammed you against the vault door. It hurt, but not nearly as much as the need burning in your core. You informed him of this pain through your panting, a pathetic performance, and only stopped when you felt the relief of him ramming it in. Hitching you up with his hands under your thighs, he caught his head on your pussy lips and then dropped you onto his dick.
"Oh, there she is," he mouthed at the side of your sweat-slick neck through his mask. "There's my pretty little pussy," his voice was strained as he slammed inside you over and over and over again. "I want to slip it on like a sleeve, slip it on whenever I'm homesick and live in it for a week."
"My Lord!"
"I'll take you far away from this dying place! Have you ever seen Paris? Madrid? Berlin? That's where we'll live! We'll travel like bandits and live like kings!"
You were delirious and he wasn't doing any better, drilling into the depths of you with a desperation only a living, breathing man could understand. The sound of your skins slapping against each other, the myriad of moans, they all echoed through the corridors of Castle Zemo and you hoped this haunting could go on for all eternity.
"M-my Lord, I'm going to-"
"Yes, come with me, milady! Come with me, my baroness!"
Following his orders was as natural to you as it was to the moon to rise every night. Squeezing your thighs tight and raising your face towards the stone skies, you came around Baron Zemo's cock and collapsed in his arms.
When he unwinded your legs from him like a belt, you were finally awake. The chill of the vault door made your spine shiver and there was a hot pool of come in your panties that threatened to spill down your thighs.
"Thank you for indulging in my fantasies, my dear." The chest your head was rearing against rumbled. "I hope I fulfilled all of yours."
"Baron Helmut III Zemo," you slurred out, too exhausted to enunciate each syllable. "You are supposed to be serving time in Germany-"
"Boss, where are you?" Haimo spoke through the static.
"That's your cue," the baron handed the device back to you. "Tell him you are on your way back and definitely not in the hands of a dashing criminal mastermind."
You searched his dark eyes behind the purple sockets. "Traveling like bandits? Living like kings?"
"Men say the damndest things while in the trawls of passion." He stroked your soaked cheek and spoke softly. "I'll be back tomorrow night to spin you another tale."
Blinking up at him, barely awake or alive, you answered Haimo. "I'm heading back. Over."
"Very good, my Lady. Very good."
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saffron-nova21 · 3 years
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VII. Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer Pt. 2
The Next Chapter Masterlist
< Previous Chapter • You Are Here • Next Chapter >
Warnings: Iwaizumi is smooth, like one minor suggestive joke
As the three of you walked away from your apartment, you moved your hand into Kenma's, contently swinging your interlaced hands back and forth while Kuroo spoke to Kenma. You didn't tune in to all of it, instead just looking around. It looked dangerously close to raining and after glancing at your friends, you quickly realized that none of you were dressed for the rain.
Kuroo was surprisingly casual today, a white shirt with some dark print against it, a cross-body shoulder bag, and a pair of black skinny jeans that most certainly did him justice. Kenma, for once, had pulled something that wasn't his signature black hoodie out of his closet. Wearing a long sleeve black shirt that hung off of his form, along with some black joggers. You had gone with a crewneck for your own comfort. Kenma's merch, as usual for you.
You couldn't explain what it was about wearing Kenma's merch, but for whatever reason, it brought you a great deal of comfort, which was the main reason that Kenma made sure you got at least one of everything he sold, no matter how 'exclusive' it was supposed to be, you had one. Not to mention, he liked to have his name, even if it was the one he used online, displayed on you.
But you didn't have to know that part.
"Like I said, Lev is already on top of it. If you two want to take a serious break and not even have to deal with Twitter or streaming, just say the word." Kuroo reassures, patting his smaller friend on the back, "You know, I really don't understand why you two, who hate social interaction, chose a career that depends solely on it."
Looking over, you're quick to respond, "What can we say? We like staying at home. Plus, it's not exactly a lot of work. It's just hard work and it's draining, y'know?"
Both boys give you a peculiar look, Kenma being the first of them to speak. "You know, I think you need a nap when we get home." He squeezes your hand with his own before looking forward again. "Hard work and a lot of work are... Rather close to being the same thing. Don't undermine your profession, just because other people do."
Kuroo raises an eyebrow, though he doesn't say anything as he faces forwards as well. "There he is, in the flesh," he notes as he gestures in the direction of a man leaning against a car.
Your eyes widened a bit as you took a good look at the man. He looked... Where there even words for it? Muscular arms and what you could only guess was a muscular chest was barely contained by a black shirt. Unluckily for you, blocking your view was what you assumed to be a compression sleeve, covering one of his arms from his wrist, up past his sleeve. He also wore the same black joggers that Kenma did, though through them, you could see muscular thighs and calves.
"Tetsuro, I thought you said we were going to meet a colleague, not someone who I would let do horrible, vile things to my -." Your words are cut off by an abrupt cough from Kuroo. "Come on, you both know I'm kidding!.. More or less..."
Kuroo and Kenma couldn't help but exchange pained looks - you really were going for a reverse harem, at this point, weren't you? You'd think they'd both be used to your fawning over 'pretty' and 'respectful-looking' men. Though, Hajime wasn't the worst person you could pick, at the very least.
After shaking his head in amusement, Kuroo raises an arm over his head to wave towards the other man. "Hajime!" Kuroo's deep voice cuts through the air, catching the Athletic Trainer's attention.
Looking up from his phone, the black-haired male gives a light wave, adjusting his posture to stand up straight. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he shifts his weight, his biceps flexing more than they should be allowed to, in your opinion. He might be an athletic trainer, but no one should be allowed to look that good, in just a t-shirt. Looking at the way the material stretched over his muscular arms, you wondered if it was about to tear... It certainly looked like it was close to it.
Iwaizumi allows the three of you to catch up to him as he reaches the entrance of the restaurant. He gives you and Kenma a nod, because he turns to Kuroo and begins to speak to him, though you tuned out pretty quickly when you heard him speaking to Kuroo about the previous Captain's job. What could you say? It was boring.
Crossing your arms, you spare Kenma a glance, "He could have at least said 'hi.'" You complain, not quite expecting the two in front of you to hear you.
You can hear Iwaizumi let out a quiet laugh, before he turns to face you, voice dripping in dry amusement. "I'm so very sorry, your highness." He shifts so his face is directly in front of yours. "Hi, I'm Iwaizumi Hajime, Athletic Trainer of the volleyball team. I can't wait to start our work together."
You narrow your eyes a bit, brows furrowing at how close he was to you. Heat rises to your face and you attempt to take a step back, only to find that Kenma was conveniently preventing that. You find a reason to finally look away from him as he takes your hand from Kenma's to shake it, amusement pooling in his features. Underneath the surface, though, Iwaizumi was silently thanking Oikawa for the years he'd spent with the other male, learning how to shock him enough to shut him up.
Kenma bites back his smirk, raising a hand to cover his mouth before he let out the laugh of amusement that threatened to escape him. He raises an eyebrow, nudging you, "You could at least respond, now that he has said hi."
Your two friends found far too much amusement in the interaction, in your opinion.
"Well, it's a pleasure, Iwaizumi Hajime, Olympic Trainer." You recover from your previously stunned state, a slight huff of air escaping you. "So kind of you to finally acknowledge our presence."
Kuroo sighs deeply, "Kuroo Tetsuro, table for four," he nods to the hostess, who looked amused by the interaction.
"Right this way."
Iwaizumi withdraws his hand so that he can begin following the other two, towards your normal booth in the corner. Kenma liked to have his back against the wall, always saying how it helped him stay calm. Neither you nor Kuroo had any qualms, especially if it made him feel more comfortable with you all going out in public. Though rather than moving to sit across from you both so that you could sit next to Kenma, as per usual, Kuroo slips into the seat beside Kenma, ensuring that you'd be seated next to Iwaizumi.
Puffing out your cheeks, you open your mouth to protest, only to stop and glance at Iwaizumi when you hear him speak. "Any day now, your highness."
You slide into your seat with palpable reluctance, you hostess giving you a sympathetic smile, before nodding. "Your waiter will be with you shortly."
Sinking further down into your seat, you cross your arms, "You know, I - Woah, buddy!" Jumping back up straight in your seat, you point an accusing finger at Iwaizumi, "You better watch where you're putting that leg of yours, buddy! There shouldn't be any premarital under-the-table knee touching."
Kenma lets out a breath, "You think they'll give us the check, yet?"
You and Kenma hold hands a lot in public. More than anything else, you both use it as a way to silently let one another know when you're uncomfortable. One squeeze for reassurance, two for an 'are you okay,' three for 'get me away from this conversation/person,' and four for 'home. now.'
Kuroo isn't sure how well Kenma is going to take it, when you truly start spending time with good-looking athletes, every day.
Kenma doesn't know that Suna and Atsumu are on the Olympic team and will probably kick Kuroo's ass, when he finds out. You were hurt badly, after everything. Worse than anyone but Kenma saw.
I hope you all are having a wonderful day. It is spring break and I, for one, have lost all concept of time. But still, I hope you guys are enjoying the story and having a good break. As usual, don't forget to eat and sleep, okay? And drink some water, I know you probably haven't, today.
General Taglist:
@kookie-doughs @halesandy @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @its-the-aerieljeane @onlyonew @kac-chowsballs @saltylettuce @thathoneybee3 @daninaninani @akkeyomi @vintagexparker
The Next Chapter Taglist:
@bnha-meme-sanctuary @nachotrash @haijkk @maadaaaa @prettyinblack231 @sakusasimpbot @kellesvt @bebetiny @ash-levi @calumsfringe @z3ld4 @erinoikawa @bandaged-despair @chaseyui @atria-avior @just-that-bi-girl @magical-fandoms @one-simp-more
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more thoughts about the homecoming au, the au where maedhros and maglor get brought back to tirion after the war of wrath to be prettied-up trinkets on finarfin’s shelf, with painted-over scars and muffled screams. it is dark, it’s full of all kinds of emotional and caretaker abuse, and the brothers weren’t exactly in a good state of mind before any of this happened. @sunflowersupremes wrote the initial au that wasn’t even meant as horror, @outofangband - this au is as much theirs as mine, several of the concepts here were originally theirs, and a lot of this originally came out in dms with them. part 1 is here. this part contains gaslighting, loss of autonomy right at the end, more suicide mentions (thanks mae) and just general abuse from people who care more about their own comfort than the people they’re supposed to be caring for. it’s worse than the first part, honestly
most of the stuff the fëanorians had on them when they surrendered got taken away pretty fast. which is honestly understandable; some of it was cursed, a lot of it was weaponry, all of it stank to the high vault of the stars
but they both managed to hold onto some personal effects, or get them back before they went in the incinerator. a broken locket, a torn-up book, nothing fancy, nothing large, but things that still mean a lot to them
the valinoreans aren’t entirely comfortable with this. they find a lot of the brothers’ comfort items mildly disturbing, stained with darkness and (occasionally literal) blood as they are. maedhros had this dessicated finger he refuses to explain anything about that got disposed of very quickly
maglor has a few strands of brightly coloured thread, spun around each other somewhat inexpertly. he tends to pull it out when he’s feeling depressed, working it between his fingers until he feels like he can face the world again
one day, one of his minders who gets along better with him asks where he got it. from the twins, maglor admits. it’s part of some embroidery elrond abandoned when they left -
and it’s snatched out of his hands. his minder looks down at him compassionately. ‘i know you miss them, but you caused those boys a lot of pain, you know? you shouldn’t romanticise your relationship with them’
which - maglor’s relationship with the twins was complicated, and while it wasn’t nearly as hellish as elwing fears, it wasn’t entirely healthy. maglor was dependent emotionally on the kids a lot more than any adult should be to children, and vice versa
because the twins were the last people he had left. when maedhros executed celegorm’s servants with no warning at all, this rift began to grow between the sons of fëanor and their followers. they’d always been terrifying, but they’d also been comradely and inspiring, the white-hot stars around which their people orbited. but when they turned their fangs on their own host, all that started to fall away, leaving only the fear behind
it got worse after sirion. by the time vingilot rose in the sky, maglor’s only real remaining relationships were with maedhros, who he hated as much as he loved, and the twins. watching over them, talking to them, not hurting them - it kept him grounded in reality, kept him sane
he knows, he knows, he knows, they’re better off without him. but his time with them is the only happiness in his memories that still feels real
but the valinoreans can’t accept that. the exile was an awful time with nothing in it worth keeping, and the sooner he can recognise that the faster he’ll be back to his old self
besides. their caretakers don’t like being reminded of their more... unpleasant deeds
(elwing sidebar: elwing and eärendil are having an easier time, because the teleri have experience dealing with trauma and are also just more accepting of the right to have your own take on your own experiences. still, though, elwing occasionally hears that a proper telerin mother would have stayed with her children, even if she had to give up the treasure her people died for to the monsters of her childhood nightmares)
(elwing was a young adult in a horrendous situation with no obvious way out, elwing is dealing with her own damage as best she can, elwing is valid, we stan elwing. she’s also one of the few direct-ish sources the noldor have for beleriand and what the fëanorians did there, and her (perfectly reasonable!) perspective colours a lot of their treatment)
in general the valinorean noldor are quite sure they know what beleriand was like and how it felt to be there, and aren’t particularly interested in being proven wrong
it was miserable, it was harrowing, it was nothing anyone should want to think about. it was a long nightmare maedhros and maglor are so fortunate to have finally woken up from
and you can kind of see why they think like that? the ones who have seen the hither shores saw them when ash rained from a void-black sky and almost everything was dead, and the survivors told stories of a long hopeless defeat and cruelties beyond imagining
but that deep black image blots out the genuine joy they felt in those five hundred years, the chance to prove their own greatness, the knowledge they were doing something good, nights when music echoed across the gap, warm hands in a cold fortress. there were things in beleriand worth remembering, aspects of the people they became there legitimately worth keeping
and even if there wasn’t - five hundred years. the scars on their bodies make it plain to see, every little piece of who they are was shaped by beleriand, for worse and for better. they just can’t leave it behind
their valinorean caretakers find this horrifying
maedhros likes to exercise. it keeps him calm, gives him something to do. it’s not something nelyafinwë was super into - he was more the peripatetic type - but it’s a feasible hobby for a noldorin prince to have, so he’s allowed to do it
sometimes, though, he’ll unconsciously shift into the old combat forms, precisely timed drills ingrained into his bodies. the first few times he does this, his minders are bemused more than anything, but then one day he happens to have a stick in hand to use as a mock-sword
then every time he starts to slip away into that meditative trance, hands reach out to stop him and hold him in place. ‘there’s no need to fight here, maitimo,’ an elf he knew before the unchaining tells him ever so gently. ‘you’re safe now’
... they say that, but maedhros’ nightmares keep getting worse
it’s like that with everything that makes the valinoreans uncomfortable. whenever they try to speak of their time in beleriand, no matter what they say, they’re told that oh, they know it was hard, but it’s all over now and they don’t have to dwell on it
but even after they’ve spent years in paradise, maedhros and maglor still won’t let go and allow themselves to heal
they just can’t come to terms with the truth of their ordeal
the narrative the valinoreans have constructed erases all of the bright spots, but it also bleaches out the true darkness
certainly they did horrible things, but did they really have a choice? in such a harsh world, they always had to be on guard, lest they themselves be killed. these poor boys never meant to harm anyone, but their father’s cruel madness and the painful chains of their oath and the vileness of beleriand forced them into atrocities they never wanted to commit
(surely the monsters the sindar spoke of wouldn’t cry. they wouldn’t lose themselves in waking nightmares or curl up shivering in well-hidden closets, they wouldn’t jump away from a casual touch or watch every new person like they might be a threat. they wouldn’t convince themselves the children they stole were happy, or talk to the shade of a dead kinsman they abandoned. surely they wouldn’t. surely)
(because if they are, and they’ve let a couple of orcs loose into the royal palace...)
(maglor and maedhros’ movements are pretty restricted. this is mostly for their own protection, but it’s partially - well, just in case. just in case)
this rankles at maedhros, though he tries not to show it. terrible they might have been, but his choices were his own
he was a warlord, he was a king. he expected to be hated for the things he had done. he didn’t expect to be pitied. he didn’t expect to be dismissed
sometimes, when he’s surrounded by people earnestly telling him that he’s not a bad person, he never was, it was all pressure from his father and the oath, he wants to scream that he chose to attack sirion because he was so, so tired of diplomatically dancing around problems he knew he could solve with his blade
but he stops himself, always. he knows how much what little freedom they do have is based on them not being a threat
and he will not wash this peaceful, innocent land in blood. he’ll kill himself first
maglor has lost all such scruples
it’s not often, but when they’re behaving themselves and no one who’s likely to take offense is in town, the brothers get taken out to court events
they paint makeup over their scars (which still won’t heal, everyone is concerned by the implications of this) dress them up in finery, string them with jewels, and show off how well they’re doing
(even if maedhros rarely says anything, and they never leave each other’s side)
tonight, it’s a feast. a minor celebration, nothing too crowded, nothing too loud. there’s revels and merrymaking and all kinds of fun
and after the food has been cleared away, there’s music
would his nephew like to play something, finarfin asks. it’s hard to tell if it’s a request or a politely phrased order
maglor decides he doesn’t have the patience to be taken aside and tell how much everyone wanted to hear his music, and accepts
finarfin smiles kindly. he’s thinking about how maglor’s minders have been talking about how he’s finally stopped trying to sing depressing or horrifying songs and how his voice grows more melodious by the day
maglor is thinking about how they won’t even let him sing about his wife. he wrote no odes to her beauty or her skill in the forge, but he sang ballads about the swiftness of her spear and her laughter after a battle
none of which the valinoreans want to hear. they want to pretend that love never existed, that there could be any joy found in darkness, that she’s at all worth remembering -
he gets up to play, and launches into the most vicious, most hopeless, most painful part of the noldolantë
they try to stop him, but he’s the greatest warsinger the world has ever seen, he’s sung with blood in his lungs over the roaring of dragons, there’s little they can do to block out everything they’re trying to ignore. he wails defeat and death and grief and death and despair and death
when they finally manage to knock him out, their whole petty festival in tatters, shock on their faces, tears streaming from their eyes, all he can think is that if they understand now, even a little, it’ll have been worth it
for the first time, but not the last, he wakes up in a cell
finarfin comes to visit, and starts giving a very disappointed lecture maglor is in no mood to hear. instead he just snarls that nothing they’ve been doing is helping him at all, and he’s so sick of false sympathy and no one listening to what his actual problems are
finarfin shuts his eyes, says ‘i’m sorry to hear you feel that way’ and leaves
a few days later he wakes up with a collar around his neck
it’s demeaning, but he gets released that morning, so he rolls with it. he gets told to never do that ever again, first by his minders and then by maedhros
his minders he nods at until they leave him alone. maedhros he snarks back at that it’s not like he’s doing anything to improve their condition
only he can’t
the words don’t just freeze in his throat, they can’t even form in his mind. what’s happening, he can’t say. what did you do to me, he can’t say. he can’t even scream
as maglor is clutching at his neck (he can’t get it off he can’t get it off) and all the colour is draining out of maedhros’ face, the minder in the room smiles
‘see? this way you’ll stop making yourself and everyone around you miserable. you can still talk about happy things -’
‘they did this in angband!’ maedhros roars, a statement that provokes his first actual fight with their minders. he’s harder to pin down than maglor. bigger
but their caretakers are becoming annoyed with the brothers’ obstinate refusal to let themselves get better. they may be content to wallow in the misery of their past, but inflicting it on others is a step too far
they clearly aren’t going to move any further down the road to recovery on their own volition, so it’s become clear they need a gentle push. is it a little distasteful? yes, but such things are sometimes necessary in medicine
the bright cheerful princes they will be again will thank them for it
oh god how did this end up so long. the last one should be shorter, it’s mostly clearing up some loose ends. why did i write this
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cafeinthemoon · 3 years
Text
The Home I Crave - Chapter 4
Title: The Home I Crave
Genre: Fanfiction
Pairing: Tobirama Senju x reader
Rating: teen and up
Word count: 2938
Chapter: 4/?
Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶️▶️
Read the previous chapter here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
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Though your future husband had his own residence separated from the Hokage’s, you weren’t sent there after being informed that you would stay in the village for the next days. Instead, you would be a guest in Hashirama’s house, and Mito would provide you the orientation you’d need in your new role.
The Uzumaki princess, with her vivid presence and smartness, helped you to find ways to fill your days with meaningful activities, so you wouldn’t see time passing until the wedding and wouldn’t have many chances to feel like a burden staying in the house of strange people counting on their assistance. You couldn’t entirely avoid this sensation, which led you to decline from small favors and treats that were offered to you from time to time; on the other hand, you found some relief once you realized that the manners showed by the Hokage’s wife during the reception were not mere formality: Mito’s interest in your well being was genuine, and she was not going to give up on making you as comfortable as possible under the current circumstances.
It was better this way, you thought. So you just let her be the friend she was willing to be.
In fact, Mito Uzumaki was an excellent friend: she would always answer your questions and doubts with honesty and objectivity and never hide when she didn’t have the information you needed; the things she asked about you were never embarrassing or invasive, and you always saw yourself willing to talk when she made you questions. You spoke to her about your life with your sisters, your training at your clan’s compound, your use of Doton and how it is a characteristic of your family since the oldest generations; Mito explained that her clan was specialized in sealing techniques the same way your were proficient in Earth Style, and when you asked her about them, she described the history and the creation of the most important among them.
During your time together, most of your conversations consisted in you two exchanging your experiences as shinobi, your families and your relationships with your friends. You discovered opinions and preferences in common despite the obvious differences in your personalities: while you had a tendency to live in your head if you were left alone and not speak your mind unless you were invited too, Mito was straightforward when it came to expressing her thoughts, though she was never rude while doing it; many times she took the initiative to start the conversations, and the mission of taking out your thoughts would almost always fall on her shoulders, no matter how many times she assured you that you were free to speak whenever you needed to.
One day, when this situation happened, she looked into your eyes and gave you an advise for which you would thank her later, when you’d be a married woman facing the challenges typical of your new condition:
- I am always encouraging you to not keep everything to yourself when you have the chance to talk, but maybe I’ve failed in explaining why I insist so much in this, y/n-san.
You blinked in surprise and curiosity.
- In this case, let me ask you your reasons for doing this, Mito-san.
- This can be good for you in any circumstance of your life, of course, but the main reason is that this is the most efficient way to communicate with Tobirama.
You clenched your hands to avoid the trembling that was about to reach them after you heard his name. It’s been a while since it was mentioned between you: you’d usually hear it when Hashirama came home and mentioned something concerning his work or a message sent by his brother. However, you always felt it differently whenever it was said by Mito.
You asked little about him since that conversation you had when you first met the Uzumaki woman. You didn’t like to think you were avoiding the topic, though your attitude would say that this was exactly what you were doing; the case was that you didn’t have so much to ask about him after everything she told you that day, and knowing that he was the brain behind the measures of the new alliance between your clans already said too much about the person he was: any other minor information you’d get would sound superfluous compared to that. Mito noticed your reluctance in this, and despite never asking about your reasons for it, she chose to respect it.
To speak the truth, you would only talk about Tobirama when you got in touch with something – a place, a circumstance, an idea – that, according to Mito, reminded of him in some way. There was a time when you were taking a walk at the shores of a river around the village and she commented that you were walking at one of his favorite places to fish and spend time alone after stressful days.
- If he suddenly disappears, it is almost certain that you will find him here – she smiled – But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to come here unannounced when he’s trying to get some rest. He’s too attached to his privacy.
You looked around and couldn’t judge him for this feeling: that was a beautiful, calm place; you wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted if you were there seeking for relief from the burdens of the day.
Episodes like this happened with some frequency, and you took the opportunities to enrich the image you were creating of him. Everything you discovered was interesting in their own way, though you weren’t still able to decide if your final opinion was good or not. Maybe it was something between the two – shinobi were always in the gray zone of the human moral compass. And when you remembered that you, as a kunoichi, were included in this account, you refrained yourself from pointing your finger at him.
However, there was a parameter that remained unconsidered to you among all the others, perhaps because of your lack of attention or the great amount of urgent preoccupations you already had, and about which you’d only come to think when you were directly led to it – Tobirama’s physical appearance.
After your experience with Hokage, you were aware that sometimes informations could be deceiving depending on their source and the person who received them. With all you’ve heard about him and considering what you thought of the arrangements led by him, it was possible that your betrothed’s looks were just like his personality: not the most pleasing one, and even scary at some point. But when you added the fact that he had a brother like Hashirama, well, maybe he was nothing like this. At some moment, you started to imagine that he could resemble his brother in some traits, or he was just like the men you saw working in the office during the meeting: all of them had a certain level of resemblance, something that made it possible for a stranger to identify them as members of the same clan, even if they were not blood relatives.
Whatever the truth, all you had was a just a vague idea, a second hand thought that you weren’t willing to turn into a concrete concept or to confirm with Mito: it was more interesting just to hear her talk about his actions and attitudes.
You would only change your mind when, thanks to an unexpected incident, you ended up finding a portrait of him.
You were still getting used to the structure of the Hokage’s house: though your own residence at your clan’s compound was large, formed by many rooms, the corridors were few, not enough to form the same intricate labyrinth of the building you were now. Still, you wouldn’t avoid walking through them without company in order to train your sense of direction, and thanks to the orientations you received from Mito regarding the rooms you had permission to enter, you weren’t afraid of invading the wrong place. But you would still  get confused if you entered the wrong corridor.
This is what happened that time, so that instead of reaching the living room you got into a narrow hall with a collection of photographs on the walls of both sides.
You recognized some of the landscapes in them from the path you and your group took when you arrived at Konoha’s territory: hills, rivers and the forest’s entry; some of the residences and farms were there too.
You also identified some of the people: there was a rectangular portrait of Hashirama Senju in what you understood to be his official clothing as the village’s governor; Mito Uzumaki appeared in another picture right beside it, surrounded by a group of men and women with their hair as red as hers and dressed in the same style, leading you to the conclusion that they were part of her family or were close friends; there were also pictures with some of the people you saw in the office beside those two.
The majority of the photos were of people you didn’t know but were certainly close to the ones you knew. There was a photograph of a middle aged man wearing a reddish armor; wrapped on his forehead there was a white stripe with the crest of the Senju. The man had his skin as tanned as Hashirama’s, and his hair was straight and dark just like his, though it wasn’t that long. Looking closer, you noticed the two shared similar face traits despite the lack of gentleness and freshness of the older man if compared to the younger one. There was no identification in the picture, but you thought that this man could be Hashirama’s father. If this was the case, they must haven’t had nothing in common besides the appearance.
Near this photograph, there were other, larger, with a group of children surrounding a woman, all of them wearing the Senju traditional clothing. One of the children, a boy with a bowl haircut, shared some resemblance with the man of the previous image: you looked at him for a moment and recognized Hashirama. The other children, all boys, and the woman were too different from him and between themselves, but there was something in them that told you they were relatives, so that if that was the Hokage’s mother, those boys should be his brothers. With this, your natural reaction was to wonder which of them could be Tobirama.
The first kid, close to Hashirama, had a scar on his cheek and brown hair; he was the one with the widest smile. The second, sitting right after him with a sweet look and some shyness in his manners, had white skin and a hair parted in two contrasting shades: white on the right side and dark brown on the left. The third boy, standing up beside the woman and separated from the others, was the one who most resembled her; he was staring at the camera with a serious, firm look. He had the same light skin tone of the second child, and his shaggy hair was of a shade similar to the lighter side of that boy’s hair as well; but the thing that caught your attention in this one was that pair of red eyes, just like the woman’s, with which he looked into the lens, to the photographer or to something beyond them. It wasn’t the look one would expect from a child.
Considering what Mito told you during the tea and what you thought of the arrangements, you were thinking that this kid had the highest probability of being…
- Oh.
Your voice escaped when you took a step ahead to observe the next photograph and found in it a figure entirely different from the ones you’ve saw until that moment.
The portrait was the same size as the one of the Hokage and it showed a young man in a blue armor, with his arms crossed, looking at the lens with the same perspicacity you sensed in the boy’s look. His armor was different from the one of the middle aged Senju who you supposed to be his father: around his shoulders there was a huge, white fur attached to his forearm protectors, all of them together creating the impression that his torso was larger than it really was; under the armor, he was wearing a black shirt that covered his neck and arms until his fists; he wasn’t wearing gloves. On his face, he had a gray happuri with the Leaf crest carved on its forehead.
The man had white, voluminous hair that would rebel against the steadiness of his general aspect, as a minor inconvenience that remained out of his control and to which he was already used; looking closer, you realized it wasn’t of a pure white, but of a slight shade of gray. His skin, only visible through his uncovered hands and face, was light, even pale if you compared him to other people who spent as much time under the sunlight as him certainly did as a warrior; was it a peculiarity of him or just the environment where the photo was taken? You had no way to tell. On his face, too, the light tone served as a white canvas for what you thought to be facial painting or tattoos: three red marks spreading over his chin and under his eyes as slits opened by a kunai; around his eyes, black, thin lines that would contour their natural form, already sharp, giving them the sensitivity of a hunter’s eyes.
Those eyes, you realized with astonishment, were as red as the eyes of the boy from the other photograph.
You went back to the children’s picture to observe his face with more attention, and didn’t need much time to notice the similarities between them. The mannerisms, the traits, the seriousness – they were the same person.
It was when you started to look for portraits of the other children and was unable to find anything except the one of Hashirama in the Hokage’s clothing. You already knew that the Senju head had lost his siblings to war, but just a few days ago you found out there was only one brother left for him. You looked at the blue armored man again…
- Finally I found you.
You startled, almost letting a scream out. When you turned, you found Mito smiling at you.
- If I was an enemy, you would be in trouble.
A glimmer in her eyes insinuated that she has been observing you for a while, waiting for you to notice her presence. You never cursed your lack of sensory abilities as much as in that moment.
- I… I am sorry for this – you apologized, looking at the photographs – I took the wrong corridor and ended up here. I wasn’t expecting to find these pictures, so…
You glanced behind, as if sensing the man’s image right over your shoulder. This didn’t escape Mito’s attention: she walked closer to its spot on the wall, looking in the eyes of the warrior. This gesture eliminated any remaining doubts about the identity of the man.
- You already guessed, didn’t you? – with her unaltered voice, she questioned you without taking her eyes off the picture.
You turned to the portrait too, facing his gaze again.
- This photograph was taken four or five years ago, but he remains the same – Mito continued – Not even a line of expression appeared on his forehead or in the corner of his eyes since then – and with a smile – The same goes to Hashi. Just another talent of the Senju.
You observed the portrait in silence, not interrupted by the princess: having familiarity with arranged marriages as much as you, she was aware of the time one needed to become accustomed with the looks of their betrothed under these circumstances.
You only spoke when you felt prepared to, and when you did, it was to point out that he looked even younger than you expected after all the things you discovered about him.
Mito laughed.
- I don’t blame you. If I didn’t know him or his brother and saw them together for the first time, I would certainly think that Hashirama is the younger one.
You laughed too; when your smile faded, you turned back to your contemplative expression. Now, the white collar and the aspect of his eyes just gave you an idea.
- I hope you don’t find it strange what I’m going to say, Mito-san, but he reminds me of a wolf.
Mito crossed her arms, looking at the picture; now that you were becoming used to her manners, you no longer found it weird to see her doing gestures like that while dressing in noble clothing.
- Nobody never said that about him before, at least not to me – she commented – But it makes sense, now that I’m looking at him.
You stood in silence for some time. You spent it training your eyes to get used to Tobirama’s sight, to the weight of his gaze, for you sensed that once you were together, you wouldn’t have such time. The funny thing was that, while you stood there, you didn’t notice how much time passed, only waking up when you heard Mito’s giggle beside you.
You turned, only to find her still contemplating her brother-in-law’s image.
- In his own way, he’s a beautiful man, isn’t he?
You sensed heat coming up your cheeks, mas didn’t refuse to reply.
- Yes. I dare say yes.
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sunqyu · 3 years
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KINGDOM INTRODUCTION STAGE THOUGHTS
Alrighty, I slept, I watched all performances a few more times, I let it all sink in and I think I’m ready to form an actual opinion. Would love to hear what you all thought!
ATEEZ
I love their pirate-concepts so much. I don't think I'll ever get enough of it. I was so surprised to see they chose to perform Wave out of all their anthem-esque songs but BOY OH BOY DID THEY DELIVER. The animation at the beginning was gorgeous and really set the tone, like yes we're ateez, we're here and staying true to ourselves because we know that will be amazing. Hongjoong's Hakuna Matata gave me shivers. I love that they sang some parts live, even in the harder parts of the choreo. San's presence will never fail and that ending with Jongho's power and San standing so casually, not even shaking. I loved every second of this performance and wouldn't have changed a thing. I also feel like this is very clearly an introduction stage. They showed who they are without showing everything they're capable of right away. I can't wait to see what they're going to show on the actual challenges. They got my vote.
BTOB
This one made me CRYYYY. BTOB used to be such an important group to me. It's been a while and hearing those first harmonies brought back so many memories. Not gonna lie, Peniel's rap was underwhelming. He was off beat a few times and his delivery wasn't strong. I also wish they danced more, even a little break. They know what show they are on and know that it's about big impact. They CAN do amazing performances so I wish they showed a little of that. By doing this vocal stage they're confirming the prejudice of them just being vocally talented seniors eventhough they're capable of so much more. I hope they change their strategy for the first challenge.
SF9
I hate to say it but this was definitely my least favorite. They only had 90 seconds. To me that means you fill as many of those seconds with either choreo, vocals, rap or some sort of stunts. A large part of SF9's performance was them walking to a different formation. I also think the re-arrangement of the song could've been stronger. Maybe ATEEZ and BTOB made them nervous but I just didn't feel as much impact or passion as I did with the rest of the performances. Still very curious to see what they do next. Maybe they're still getting to know the show or haven't fully decided on what direction to take with it yet.
Stray Kids
Speaking of knowing the show GOOD LORD STRAY KIDS. I loved how you could see that they've done their homework. This performance to me felt like a mix between Sword of Victory and Danger from RTK but with that Stray Kids roughness and power that no other group can replicate. Hyunjin's intro with the chanting was the perfect choice for a calm but intense start to build up from. They knew how to use the room, especially with Lee Know's part, and the passion was overwhelming. Bang Chan's backflip was perfect as it stayed true to the original choreo while adding impact. Changbin with a frking FLAME THROWER??? Only downsides to me were the abrupt ending (but then again they had only 90 seconds) and for a moment I thought Changbin wasn't on beat with his rap? Could be wrong? Overall definitely one of the best and one of the three I voted for.
The Boyz
HONEY THEY'RE HOOOOOME. They really listened to the comments they got on RTK about them only doing stunts and using props which I think was VERY clever for an introduction stage because they will be able to go all out in the challenges without that judgement. The re-arrangement was PHENOMENAL. I tell you when I heard Haknyeon starting with that line in that way, I squealed. Beautiful melodic build up and the most interesting formations out of everyone. Changmin slayed that little dancebreak and I feel like the camera moved to soon? Like they missed those last few beats there? Anyways. Then on we went to more intense whispering vocals, only building the tension more. AND THERE HE WAS, MY FAVORITE RAPPER OUT OF ALL THE PERFORMANCES. 1. He rapped live 2. The passion and intonation in his voice were soooo strong 3. Eventhough he wasn't full on dancing, every little move was planned and timed perfectly 4. The acting and concept in his presence were incredible. Sunwoo really stole the entire show for me. The handchoreo was, again, really clever and done perfectly. Hearing how they changed the yah to an echo-y aaa gave me THE CHILLS. Then the most beautiful part of the entire show, that dance. They were so in sync and majestic. The animation on the floor warming up with the blooming flowers was perfect. None of the other groups could have pulled this choreo off which is what makes it so special to me. Juyeon's fall was so elegant and powerful. It was great.
iKON
The 'iKON's back' made me weep like a little girl. Seriously, I sat there crying rivers while jamming out. I've seen these boys go through so many survival shows, I've already cried with them so much, I've seen them be mistreated, I've seen their best friend who I believe to be one of the best idols ever be mistreated and going away, this was a lot. So I had to rewatch the performance quite a few times to make a proper opinion on just the performance but here we go. Again, a group that stayed 100% true to themselves, except for one small thing. They lipsynced. Which… why? It was so surprising to me. Who makes a rapper like Bobby lipsync? I thought Sunwoo was going to be wiped under the carpet but since Bobby had to lipsync he just smiled through it all instead. I really liked the choreo and Jinhwan got to show off what he's best at. I'm also very happy to have a more hiphop-y group in the mix. It still has that anthem-vibe but it's different than what we've seen so far. If only I knew why they lipsynced. I really looked forward to June’s live vocals too. Sadly I didn't vote for them because the ZZZ-groups left a bigger impression on me but I hope iKON will find their place in the competition to thrive in their own light.
Overall Opinion
I voted for TBZ, SKZ and ATZ. Very happy that we didn’t have to rank the three groups we voted for because I could not have done that. Overall the moments that left the biggest impression on me were Sunwoo’s rap, Haknyeon’s intense whisper, San’s presence and expression’s, Hyunjin’s intro, center Minho, TBZ’ melodic dance break and ATZ’s delivery and passion. I do feel like the desperation isn’t there as much as it was with RTK’s introduction stages. I’m hoping that’s just because they’re saving the best for later or because it was a livestream and they were a little more nervous. I’m so happy that my expectations weren’t just met but frking thrown out the window. Would love to hear all of your opinions on the stages!
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uomo-accattivante · 3 years
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Great comprehensive interview with Elvira on the making of The Letter Room and filmmaking, in general. One interesting tidbit mentioned: she is currently developing a podcast about sex. 👀🤔
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For most of her creative life, Elvira Lind has been behind the the lens compassionately capturing true stories as a documentary filmmaker. Her debut feature, Songs for Alexis, observes two young lovebirds navigating a long distance relationship and challenging views on gender identity in the modern age. While her sophomore feature, Bobbi Jenne, explores the life of a famous dancer fighting for her own creative and personal independence.
Despite her prolific doc work, a story that couldn't simply be told in its raw form kept circulating in her head: a dark prison comedy about the secret life of a correctional officer trying to bring humanity to the prison system. When he gets transferred to a job in the letter room, he finds himself a little too involved in the private lives of the inmates.
Far along in her second pregnancy, and with the support of an incredible team of collaborators, Elvira took on the challenge of writing and directing her first narrative short, "The Letter Room." The film stars Oscar Isaac and Alia Shawkat, and has had an all-star festival run, screening at Telluride, Tribeca, and the Palm Springs International Film Festival. Here, Elvira reflects on the joys and challenges of creating your first short film—putting empathy first, reshaping the tropes around pregnancy, and screening in the COVID era.
vimeo
FTW: How did you become a filmmaker?
Elvira Lind: I’ve always loved film. I was very drawn to documentaries because it felt like you were entering something that was really happening. You opened a door and were already inside the film. You’re just trying to keep up with what’s being thrown at you. As opposed to fiction where you have to conjure it up from nowhere. I loved imagining and writing stories when I was little, but I didn’t have the confidence to pursue it.
I didn’t come from a family of filmmakers. And I came from a time when people had a little shitty camcorder that you borrowed from someone’s uncle, and buying film was expensive. Things opened up and changed a lot when cameras became more accessible.
I could only afford one year of film school in Cape Town, where I met some amazing people and learned about so many different ways of storytelling. I came back to Denmark and found myself working for free a lot for other filmmakers while doing a side job. The paid work was very hard to get, but I’d rather work for free with filmmakers that I loved and have more responsibilities than have access to nothing. It wasn’t easy to find my way in, but it’s so worth it. 
And now you live in New York. How does this global background affect your general filmmaking style and approach?
I definitely bring a lot of Danish documentary traditions with me and hold it very dear. There are a lot of kick ass female documentary filmmakers in Denmark that have taught me a lot. There’s a good support system for women there. It’s an incredibly privileged place in that there’s funding from the government to make films. You can make things that, in my opinion, are often far more interesting because it’s not reliant on how it’s going to make money in the box office.
You’ve shot many of your documentaries in the past. So what was it like this time to be working with a cinematographer?
I always wanted to work with a cinematographer on my documentaries; we just couldn’t afford it. Now for “The Letter Room”, I worked with Sam Chase, who has got such a brilliant eye and it was wonderful to have someone to work with on composing the look of the film because I’m usually doing it by myself. It is kind of like a marriage. I work with the same editor on all my projects as well. You enter this symbiotic sort of dance together. For me, it also means you have to fight about things and disagree and then make up and hear each other out. My editor, Adam Nielsen, is the kind of guy who just comes up with genius ideas while in the shower or on the way home from work on his bicycle. You have to find these key people in your life where you can bounce ideas back and forth with.
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Where did the idea for “The Letter Room” come from?
It was a story that was brewing in my head for a long time, but I wasn’t sure how to put a narrative film together. I just started to write it down and then it kept developing.
There was a podcast that I listened to that really inspired me. It told the story of different men who were all unknowingly writing love letters to the same woman. She started to ask for money and help with rent, but the letters she wrote were so wonderful and all these men were very in love with her. These very lonely men felt like magic had entered their lives. They all eventually found out that the woman was actually a man writing to different people trying to get their money. They were all heartbroken, but one of the men said that the worst part was losing these letters and that the fantasy was gone. He wished they could just keep writing to each other. So much of life is fantasy and trying to live through other people’s lives. I’m very drawn to stories of loneliness and bottled up feelings.
And then I am firmly against the American prison system. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating, and I can’t make sense of it. How do you even begin to explain this system to a child?
It’s a society that doesn’t care about humanity. I wanted to show the monotony, the repetition, the sadness. I don’t see the bigger goal or purpose of locking people away for countless years  and taking away all the things that makes you feel human, that makes life joyous. I really believe that we can all change and this system teaches people nothing. “The Letter Room'' is the combination of these two concepts that I’m very passionate about.
And then I got pregnant for the second time and I hadn’t made a film between the two. It was a crazy feeling to be taken over again by pregnancy. A wonderful friend of mine, Sofia Sondervan-Bild, came to me and said, “I think you should make this film and I’ll make it with you.” Initially, I freaked out and thought I didn’t know how to do fiction and doubted how I could make a film in a prison, but she inspired me and told me to do it. She’s just one of these incredibly powerful people that you want to go on an adventure with. She made me feel like my pregnancy wasn’t going to stand in the way of me making this film. We ended up shooting while I was far along in my pregnancy in a prison in the middle of a summer heat wave. It was crazy, but it was the best thing that I could’ve done at the time.
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When you were directing on set at that stage of pregnancy, did you feel like you were reshaping tropes of what women are capable of? 
It was insane. The funny thing was that the crew was like, “we can’t complain that we are tired because she is extremely pregnant and still running around.” I was so high off of that experience. When we finished, I collapsed. I fell straight onto the couch and then I have a two and a half year old screaming my name. That was more work for me than directing the short. I edited the film right before I gave birth actually, and then I gave birth and did sound right after. I was pumping breast milk in the corner in the darkness during the sound edit.
I’ve learned a lot from surpassing whatever I thought was physically possible with being pregnant. I learned that being in a creative process gives you so much energy that it allows you to be in whatever shape, size, form, mental space you can. People are ready to give you their support, if you choose the right people. I’m really grateful that I chose such wonderful collaborators who supported me through it all. Even when people were questioning my choice to direct a film while being pregnant in a prison. Why not? Women get pregnant and then we still need to be supported so that we can continue to make the things we want to do.
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What was your experience with getting “The Letter Room” funded?
It’s really hard, let’s be honest. There aren’t a lot of people sitting around waiting to fund a short film. We ended up working with Topic, which is a part of First Look Media. They are just incredible and really support filmmakers with whatever their vision is. I’ve had great experiences and some really bad experiences with funding, so I know this was an ideal scenario.
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Having a short that is over 30 minutes long seems like a feat. At what stage in the process did you know this was going to be a longer piece? And how did that decision affect the shoot in both positive and difficult ways?
It was way too long at first, and when I shortened it, it was still 32 minutes. We could only afford five days of shooting, and a lot of it is shot on active prison grounds, which have an insane amount of protocol. We almost used everything we shot.
I’m not used to being able to have different angles to choose from in my doc work, so I think I just knew exactly what I wanted. I know that my producers were worried that I wasn’t getting enough, but to me, I was like, I’m getting double of what I usually get on a documentary! Everyone was quietly concerned, but everything worked out when we got to the edit.
The short’s length hasn’t done any favors for me so far, but you need to breathe as an audience, you need to pace it out. If I cut out certain minutes, it would’ve felt rushed and you wouldn’t have believed the arcs that the characters had.
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I loved the concept of placing a very empathetic character in a setting that is contrary to that personality type. You included so many details that made the world feel so three dimensional and cared for. Can you talk about those decisions to create that feeling?
It means so much to me that it made you feel that way. What frustrates me about the prison system is that it lacks any empathy or understanding of human nature and nurture and who we are. What we need to become better people. It takes all of that away.
I spoke to people who have spent a lot of time in prison and they told me that you have to hide your feelings and that showing any signs of weakness will be a disaster. It’s the worst possible scenario you can imagine yourself in. Being robbed of every privacy, anything that makes you happy, anything that makes you feel like yourself. I imagined the character of a caregiver in this setting who wants to help and finds a silly way to do so. I was very inspired by that story of the love letters that I talked about earlier. What does it mean to lie if you’re making someone else happy?
It’s the morning of your first day of the shoot — how do you feel?
I was very nervous. I had never said ‘action’ before. I’ve been on a lot of sets, but I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing, but it’s also okay not to know. Mistakes are going to happen, and sometimes they become gifts. At the same time, I was very excited. You come in and there are all these people there with you who are there to make this thing you’ve written come to life.
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What are some things you would do on set to create a safe space and vulnerable environment?
We did everything we could to make the set a safe space. It was very difficult and stressful to shoot in an active prison, but we made sure to actively ask our crew if everyone’s feeling okay and if we can do anything to make the situation better. I’m very vulnerable and encourage all of my crew to be vulnerable with me. Mistakes are welcome.
It's a short film, people come and work on this not because they’re making a million dollars, but because they want to be there and are being incredibly generous with their time and energy. It was such a good environment that even when challenging things came up, it was still a lot of fun.
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What was it like working with actors for the first time?
That was one of the biggest challenges for me. I’ve heard so many different stories in passing of the least helpful note or worst thing to say to an actor. You want to be respectful and actors have their way of working. Ultimately, they are all really talented actors and all of them came with so much energy and a lot of ideas.
I spent time with each of them talking about their character. Those 1 on 1 conversations helped me a lot in the writing process as well because you’re bouncing ideas off of each other and they’re asking you questions about how they would respond to a certain situation.
I had always imagined Alia Shawkat as Rosita and she ended up wanting to do it and came from LA to film it. I had tears in my eyes when we were filming the scene of her and Oscar. They were excited to do the scene together. It was all a dream.
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What was the experience of working creatively alongside your partner like?
We were joking a lot about it before because there was already the stress of being so pregnant and we have a 2 year old at home, and now I was putting us in another highly intense and demanding situation. Either it was going to be great OR we would drive each other nuts. But we had so much fun. It was wonderful to work together. I was so happy to be on set and make my film and he’s just so talented and fun to be around. Those little moments where you know each other so well—I’d give him notes and he just kept surprising me and was so respectful of my directions.
He found this photo for him to connect to the character and it became very fundamental to me. It was this incredible black and white photo from the 70s of a prison guard. I had always imagined that he would have this inner salsa soundtrack playing in his soul and we would play Rubén Blades and 70s salsa music and Oscar just morphed that into music into everything and created this unique character. 
And he was wearing a fat suit the entire shoot and I was pregnant and Alia Shawkat had her pregnant belly on. The three of us—it was so funny.
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It seems like the perfect first experience of going into narrative with people that you really trust and support you.
Definitely! Find the people that you can team up with that really believe in your vision and who will push you to do exactly what you had in mind. People who never try to push you into these conventional routes. Our creative voices are so fragile. You want to be on the same page so that they see what you’re trying to do and want to bring that out of you. Where they’re treating your film as a sacred thing that you’re creating together.
How do you know when a film is done?
Fiction is very different from documentaries. With documentaries, it never feels like it’s done because there are so many options. That’s also why I love fiction so much; It’s so much faster. It’s a whole different beast to tame a documentary with hundreds of hours of footage where you’re reinventing the wheel every day.
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How have you built up your own confidence as a director and your unique voice?
Stubbornness. I’ve had many experiences working with people who didn’t believe in my project. You have to stick to your guns and trust your instincts. Once you find your voice, you find people that want to go on that ride with you and find your vision interesting. It’s a miracle when any of us gets a project made, so your confidence can’t come from how much money your movie made. It has to come from somewhere else. Did you do justice to the people you portrayed in your story? Did anyone walk away feeling like something had changed within them?
What is a good director to you?
Someone who is driven with passion without letting that passion take over and become any source of frustration that’s taken out on other people. It should feel like a collaborative effort. And having gratitude every day that you’re making something with other people who are donating their time. You’d be nowhere without them. One of the most important things is making sure that your crew is treating everyone equally. It depends on the size of the production, but having someone who can sense what’s happening in all different departments and having department heads that are there to protect everyone. Listen to each other, and make sure everyone feels safe and is in the best place to be creative.
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With COVID, what has the adjustment been like to being in an online space for this festival run? 
I’m really deeply saddened by not having the human interaction aspect of it. It feels so crucial to be in the room together, to meet and see each other's projects and share the experience, to cry and laugh next to people you don’t know. I’m grieving to be honest. We just gotta get through this time. It reminds us of how sacred it is for us to gather and how that feels, and I hope that all of that will come back after this and that cinemas will survive. We really need them.
What’s next for you?
Right now I’m writing more fiction and working on a new documentary feature that I am kind of researching and shooting at the same time. I am also creating a podcast about sex, called “The List” with my friend, writer and photographer Kirra Cheers, based on a book and play she wrote. My husband and I just started a production company together, Mad Gene Media, in order to develop and produce our own material. So. lots of exciting things to continue with in the new year.
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Born in 1981 in Copenhagen, Elvira Lind graduated from School of Media and Creative Arts in Cape Town in 2006 majoring in documentary film where she received two awards for her final year achievements. She has worked within that field since directing and shooting documentaries of various lengths for TV, cinema and web on 4 different continents.​In 2020 she premiered her first fiction project, a 32 min short film she wrote and directed. The film was sold to Topic and was invited to various festivals including Telluride and Tribeca FF. Elvira's feature doc BOBBI JENE premiered at Tribeca Film Festival in 2017 where it won all awards in its category including Best Feature documentary, best editing and best Cinematography. The film had theatrical release in US, Spain and Scandinavia.​Elvira's first documentary feature Songs for Alexis premiered at Toronto HOT DOCS in 2014 and screened and competed at a long list of international festivals. Her 8 part documentary TV series "Twiz and Tuck" was bought by VICELAND and launched in 2017. Elvira now lives and works out of New York.
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