#Alice from DELIBERATELY BEING ALONE PAINTING?

[victorluvsalice]

We have hit Fall Wednesday in The Chill Save as of this update, and I am both pleased and annoyed to announce that this day was one of major accomplishments and one major fail in the Valicer household! Let me take you through it --

-->As you can see, Victor and Alice were both up early on this stormy day -- Victor because he was hungry (I let him have a bottle of PearFizz from the fridge) and Alice because she needed the facilities. Which led to Alice trying ONCE AGAIN to go out and shower in the rain (despite the fact that she REALLY did not need to), and me telling her “no, go back upstairs and go back to sleep” --

And her doing so still naked. XD Well, I guess if you’re just going to bed, you don’t really need clothes, do you? Victor found it rather shocking, though -- dude, you’ve woohooed with her, I’m pretty sure you know what she looks like nude!

-->Smiler, for their part, were busy working on their new SimsTube side hustle, finishing editing their first video on their sweet style, uploading it, and then going straight into making a funny vlog! Because if anything is on-brand, it’s The Smiler making a funny vlog. XD

-->Weather was miserable to start this Wednesday, with yet another thunderstorm rolling through -- and as if to punish me for constantly making them go away with the weather machine lately, one of the lighting strikes took out said weather machine! Hey, I paid good money for that! Strike the ground and leave random elements behind!

-->Also had a number of spooky things popping up in the house, as if to remind the gang “yeah, this shit still haunted.” Alice and Smiler were able to take care of the latest manifestations without issue, though.

-->Major Accomplishment Number One: SMILER FINALLY FINISHED THEIR PARTY-BOT! Yes, there was so little left to do on it, they were able to put on the finishing touches WITHOUT being electrocuted! :D I have named it “Party Time” and put it in their inventory for future parties. This plus practicing some programming also got them their “Techie” lifestyle back, which I approve of. :p Unfortunately, my attempt to have them continue making mechanisms for more bots did result in zappage, so instead Smiler went back upstairs to answer some comments and do more video editing.

-->Alice, meanwhile, did some painting and ate some raspberries before heading off to work -- the latter I included a picture of simply because I thought they looked a bit like the cherries on that hat Plumbella did. XD Interestingly enough, I’ve also had to remove the “People Person” lifestyle from both her and Victor recently -- Victor more reasonably got it after some flirtation with both Alice and Smiler, but Alice seemed to get it after fulfilling a want to “be ALONE.” Because she’s a Loner. *shakehead* Okay, fine, I made them a little too social to keep “Close Knit,” but they’re still nowhere NEAR as social as Smiler -- and shouldn’t being a Loner automatically stop you from being a “People Person?” I dunno, I feel like traits and lifestyles need to interact more strongly. And also “Close Knit” should allow for a handful more friends than it does.

[the-labyrinth-of-me]

I don't know if that has been discussed in the past, but I wanna talk about a few things that stand out in the apartment of the Wakes, at least for me. First off, it's absolutely weird that the apartment looks nothing like the one from the first game, neither interior nor floor plan wise. Before Alan was trapped in the Dark Place, the apartment looked drastically different. Photos for comparison:

Seems like a regular home of a best-selling crime novelist, right?

The apartment in Alan Wake 2 has, as already mentioned, a different floor plan and weird structure. Like you leave the elevator and there aren't even any further doors, let alone a hallway. As if the Wake apartment was the only one on the whole floor. Then there's the entrance area with the cameras from Alice that set off once Alan leaves the elevator, with a few paintings on the wall (like graffiti) that seem to have replaced the skyline posters.

Then you enter the actual apartment. It holds a layout that doesn't make much sense. There's also no bathroom / toilet and Alice's studio seems to be missing. Some other paintings of graffiti on the wall mix with really old, outdated, simple furniture. Nothing that displays wealth for the cozy feeling of a real home, it's rather minimalist.

If only the furniture would be outdated, though...

A collection of old files, devices (seriously, who has a telephone like that in the 2010 and upwards years?), and old toys. Since the Wakes don't have children and there wasn't any mention that they, at any point, planned to start a family, one can assume these toys weren't bought for children to be born and they seem to be well-used as well. Maybe Alan's toys from his childhood?

The books all seem to be really old as well.

All that old stuff and the composition, how things are placed and displayed, rather give me the feeling I'm walking through a museum rather than an apartment.

(wtf why is there even an accordion??)

And if we take a closer look at the kitchen...

... we see a weird oven and coffee machine. Stuff we'd expect to find in restaurant, maybe. Or a diner. A very specific diner.

Moving on, what catches the attention in the living room isn't only the lack of a television (although the Wakes had one in the first game), despite the TVs can be found practically everywhere in the Dark Place in the most odd spaces. But not in an actual apartment, of all things? Hmmmm. As if someone deliberately choose not to have one. Maybe the one who is imagining that whole stuff?

Which would be my conclusion to the weirdness of the apartment: dream logic mixed with whatever is left of the apartment in Alan's memory mixed with what is necessary for him to move on. TVs is what he might be kind of scared of, since often he sees another version of himself speaking insane rants. Nothing he could use that close to escape. The old furniture and books and toys could really stem from his longterm memory, his childhood home blended in with his actual one, from his subconscious. His mother seems to have a key role because she was the one who gave him the Clicker. And he never got to know his father. There definitely is some pain in his childhood years. Maybe he has a box somewhere in which he keeps some of his toys?

In dreams our brain processes what we experience throughout the day, sometimes memories mix in, or things we suppress / are in denial about bc we're too afraid to confront them. That could be one explanation of the interior of the apartment. His childhood even gets a small section in the musical since we walk through his old bedroom. So, early memories are covered. Brings us the next subject - striking what isn't necessary to move to. Alice's studio apparently isn't necessary (and something he doesn't have a connection to. Makes even more sense considering her work didn't contribute much to their income, as she says in the video. So her office might be kind of invisible to him. His work being the "more important" one.) Bathroom? Not necessary. Interior replaced with old stuff bc its more important to him, maybe? But what about the industrial oven and coffee machine? That really seems to be a nod to the Oh Deer diner, where his journey (and demise) practically started. Where he got the keys for the Bird Leg Cabin and met the Dark Presence for the first time. It seemed to have left a mark. Rose, the superfan waitress who helps him from the real world. Rusty, the first major Taken he had to fight (iirc Stucky came after Rusty). The Old Gods and their stupid jukebox. I'm not gonna link Coconut here don't worry. There's also a pack of the Bright Falls Blend coffee on a shelf.

Summarized, we can say that dream logic blends all kinds of things together whenever Alan visits the apartment in the Dark Place. Not to mention that it even looks different each time he goes there, during each draft. If I find the time I'll try to draw floor plans of each version. I think it's very interesting.

If you made it this far, thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

Edit for additions / stuff from tags (holy shit is this a long post now)

- @taniushka12 yes you're right of course, the bathroom appears later however and not during the first draft. It seems Alan readjusts the apartment due to what he needs to go further, or Alice had a say about this. Idk. The bathroom appears in the next draft I think, with the expedition. He remembers they have a bathrooms yay! But it still looks completely different.

- @omena-perkele thanks for elaborating on that. I was planning to go into more detail about Alan progressively forgetting how his home looks like but only put it in half a sentence lol. It's my interpretation of how empty the apartment actually is, like not much personal belongings, if any. Bedroom is almost empty. There are pieces of furniture he remembers or remembers there should be some at certain walls in the rooms, but many empty spots. The rest is mixed with old stuff and dream logic / dark place fill-ins.

Thanks for each comment on this!

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Was Daemon Badly Written?

I’ve been thinking more about Daemon and how his character was written this season. I do find it ironic when I see all these anti posts saying ‘why are you angry? Daemon was clearly written as a bad person/villain’ and like exactly, you’ve hit the nail right on the head, that is why Daemon fans are angry because he was written as more of a villain this season and he wasn’t supposed to be a villain. Not according to the source material which described him as being light and dark in equal parts, not according to the promotional interviews put out before the show even aired or the interviews etc that were released during the show’s airing. 

The thing is writing Daemon as a morally grey character who is equally light and dark shouldn’t have been a challenging thing for the writers to do, there was a simple way of making sure they were keeping him in that in-between and that was for every dark scene make sure there is a light scene to counterbalance it. Which got me thinking how unbalanced was it really? Are we potentially being unfair to the writers? Maybe it is more balanced than we know just because the darker scenes are more shocking and make a bigger impact so it seems like there are more dark scenes than light. So I decided to mentally go through each episode and make a list of every action that could be seen as showing Daemon’s darker, more violent impulses and every action that could be seen to show his lighter, more human, softer more vulnerable side. Here is what I found. 

So as far as those darker moments go here are all the moments I could think of that could paint Daemon in a ‘bad’ light. Some are obviously more severe than others. Some of these I myself didn’t mind all that much but I could see why others might considering them as bad traits. 

Sitting on his brother’s throne in episode 1. 

That brutal City watch scene where they are mutilating people.

Calling his wife a bronze bitch and that sheep are prettier. 

Goading Otto by bringing up his late wife. 

Deliberately choosing Otto’s son as his opponent in the tourney to mess with Otto. 

Tripping Otto’s son’s horse. 

Asking for Alicent’s favour, again to mess with Otto. 

Pushing the servant when he tried to help him after Daemon was knocked off his horse. 

Heir for a day statement. 

Stealing Baelon’s dragon egg. 

Being quick to anger and violence when negotiating with Otto. 

Using Mysaria for his own gains by way of the fake pregnancy and wedding.  

Siding with Corlys and going to war in the stepstones against his brother’s/the king’s wishes. 

Beating the messenger.

Falsely surrendering under a white flag. 

Knocking the boat on his return to Kings Landing.

Calls Rhea a ‘bronze bitch’ again and saying her womb is too hostile to carry a child.

Manipulating Rhaenyra and taking her to the brothel. 

Leaving Rhaenyra alone in the brothel.

Calling Mysaria a ‘common whore’. 

Killing his wife. 

Mocking Rhea’s cousin and telling him he plans to claim Rhea’s inheritance. 

Refusing to let Laena return home. 

Ignoring Rhaena.

Walking away from his daughters after their mother’s death. 

Sleeping with Rhaenyra on the day of his wife’s funeral. 

Killing the servant to fake Laenor’s death. 

Killing Vaemond

Ignoring Rhaenyra when she was in labour. 

Disagreeing with Rhaenyra in front of her council. 

Choking Rhaenyra. 

Seeming really eager for war, saying he’d rather feed his son’s to the dragons and again being quick to anger and violence on the bridge scene with Otto.   

So what about the lighter moments? 

He genuinely feels bad for his family when Aemma and Baelon die and he tries to comfort Rhaenyra at the funeral. 

He gives the egg back to Rhaenyra. 

He defends his brother to Corlys. 

He surrenders his crown to his brother.

We see him laughing with his brother in ep 4 in the gardens. 

He tries to reassure Rhaenyra about marriage when she brings it up in the gods wood.

He strokes Laena’s pregnant belly. 

He teaches Baela High Valyrian. 

He asks if Laena will survive when the Maester suggests a c-section and is clearly worried about Laena. 

He helps defend Rhaenyra’s sons during the dagger scene in the hall of nine in ep 7. 

He scales a cliff to get Dragon eggs for his babies and looks so giddy when he brings them back. 

He strokes Rhaenyra’s pregnant belly. 

He is genuinely upset at his brother’s condition and checks his cup to make sure there is nothing nefarious in it. 

He holds Rhaenyra’s hand when she is upset at her father’s condition.

He helps his brother to the throne and puts the crown on his head. 

He is seen laughing at dinner with Rhaenyra.

He again defends his stepsons when they get into a fight with Aemond and Aegon. 

He has that break down on the beach (even if it was only 2 secs long). 

He crowns Rhaenyra and declares her queen. 

He comforts her by holding her hand when she gets the news of Luke.    

There could be some dark or light moments I am missing here but these are all the ones I could remember off the top of my head, if anyone can think of any I missed feel free to put them in the comments or add them in a reblog. As you can see I count 30 ‘bad’ moments to 20 ‘light’ moments. So there’s a difference of about 10 moments which I personally think is a big enough difference for it to be noticeable, especially as I mentioned before because those darker more brutal moments are going to stick more in a person’s mind than the softer moments. I mean what’s a hand hold compared to smashing someone’s head in with a rock. This needs to be taken into consideration when balancing out his character and adding those lighter moments to counteract the darker. 

We also have to take into consideration that not every one of these scenes was actually written by the writers, whilst we don’t know for sure how many were improvised, as there could be more that we just haven’t had confirmed as being improvised, we know that Aemma’s funeral scene, Matt was the one who made the choice to play Daemon as being sad for his family. We know that the scene where he helps Viserys to the throne is also improvised by Matt. Then the scene where Daemon takes Rhaenyra’s hand and leads her to the fireplace as he tells her the news of Luke was also improvised by Matt. So that’s at least three that weren’t written by the writers bringing it down to 17 moments that the writers potentially wrote. 

But then you come to the deleted scenes. The list of deleted scenes we know of so far are:

Daemon hugging his daughters 

Daemon comforting Rhaenyra after their baby dies, who I have since learnt was named Visenya and was a girl, I don’t understand why they couldn’t had a line in there telling us this poor baby’s name, but I digress. 

Daemon sparring supposedly when Rhaenyra is sending the boys on their missions. 

Daemon hearing the news about Luke and processing it before delivering the news to Rhaenyra. 

Daemon’s full beach breakdown scene 

Daemon’s toast to his brother at dinner, they cut that in favour of the crown scene but personally I don’t see why they couldn’t have had both. 

Most of these scenes would have shown Daemon’s softer more vulnerable side, all but one in fact, the sparring scene whilst it may have looked cool is just a sparring scene. Now you could say that its just a coincidence that most of these scenes are the softer more vulnerable scenes but then again how does that saying go, once is chance, two is a coincidence, three is a pattern and boy are we well past three at this point, its 5 scenes of Daemon being more human that they cut. Obviously I am not expecting them to have an exact number of light to dark moments but at least if they had kept these five scenes in it would have been 30-25 which at least would be a bit more balanced and might not have been as noticeable. Also I haven’t heard anything about them cutting out scenes that would show Daemon in a bad light, it seems like they chose to keep all those in. I think another reason why it was important to have these softer moments in this season to show that Daemon is both light and dark is because I think next season all of the characters are going to undoubtably be much darker than this season, they are going to war and will likely be doing messy, gruesome and brutal things to each other in order to win that war. As a result we are less likely to see anyone’s softer, lighter sides. Or at least seeing it less frequently. That would have been fine if they had written a more morally grey Daemon this season but it was clear his character was more inclined towards the darker aspects of his character, so you had him being dark this season and we’ll likely see him being even darker next season, so its no wonder many people are seeing him as just a straight up villain instead of as an anti hero as he is supposed to be. Them cutting so much out and having a clear imbalance of darker scenes to lighter only makes Condal’s comment of the audience needing to take the dark with the light all the more frustrating because I would happily have taken the dark with the light, if they had actually left the light parts in. The problem wasn’t that people weren’t accepting the darker moments it was that there weren’t enough lighter moments and that a good number were written filmed and then cut. I just think there is a very clear bias here and sadly it was a disservice to Daemon’s character in the end.   

[facelessxchurch]

How would you do Malice? Forget about her actual character and personality for right now, I mean visually. You're an artist, you must have ideas. Landy describes her as just a muscular woman in jeans and a t-shirt with trainers and short spiky hair, but that visual gives me cringe, especially given she's supposed to be a divine entity, so I opted to reject that and instead chose to imagine her as looking like a sister of battle from W40K with sleeker armour and ornate face paint. How about you?

Lmao that is her description? That would be a boring as basic bitch character design for a regular character let alone a character that is meant to be a demi-god. Fucking hell, the first mental image that gave me was an adult Maggie Simpson, but with a worse fashion sense.

Also, I’m seeing a trend here with religious leaders wearing bland clothes. Mev is described as wearing a simple robe, Creed is wearing casual clothing and Malice looks like a GTA NPC. This is starting to feel a lot less like a deliberate choice and more like Landy doesn’t have a very imaginative imagination. Somehow his characters designs are worse than Tom I-Only-Know-One-Typ-Of-Suit Percival. I mean, half the fun of having cults/religious nutcases as characters is that those folk tend to have some interesting fashion choices coughcatholicchurchcough

I despise Malice as a concept. Actually, I despise every single thing in DoA, that book doesn’t have a single redeeming quality. None.

But I’ll humor you bc you’re being polite.

I would go the opposite route of a Sister of Battle tbh. They look like brutal close combat fighters while what I’ve seen of Malice she seems to be using more telekinetic powers.  So I’d give her black robes with golden ornaments based on the Faceless One seen on the Bulgarian cover of the third book.

Below the hood her head is covered by black cloth with a featureless white mask to hide her face. Her sleeves are wide but only reach to her elbows, the rest of her arms are covered by the black garment she wears below the robe. On top of that she wears long leather gloves that reach to her elbows. Above the robe she wears a heavily ornated black leather vest that parts at her hips and reaches down to her knees. There is a belt tied to her waist with a ritual dagger attached to it. She wears leather boots beneath the robe.

If it’s a visual medium throughout the series that is how the FO should be depicted in old paintings/carvings, so when they first meet her they think she is an actual FO and only up close they realize that’s a mask and when she speaks up Val recognizes her instantly.

For how she looks like below the garments, I have two variations in mind.

One. She is bald and her face is half melted off (think acid attack) marking her visually as only half an FO if even that. She is lacking secondary sex characteristics and looks androgynous.

Two. This one is based on Val transforming into a harpy. Val gets hit by the activation wave first and Alice is with her when it happens and watches Val struggle along with her. When Val fully transforms Alice watches in horror, not wanting the same to happen to her and she gives in to the activation. Her struggle had already started to transform her tho. Her hair was growing down her spine to in between her shoulder blades where it transformed into feathers and two half formed wings were sprouting from her back, looking gangled and sickly. Her hands are bonny, with scales curling their way up her arms and claws growing from her finger tips. Black feathers are sprouting along her ulna, growing longer towards her elbow. Her arms are a mix between human arms and bird feet. Her face looks normal until she opens her mouth. You know how a goose mouth looks like on the inside? Yeah, that.

This monstrous form is less based on her personality and more based on what she thinks that transformation should look like since she was watching her sister transform.

This version gets a lot of shit from Creed for having initially fought the activation wave and sees her deformities as punishment for it. In order to ‘fix’ her he cut her wings off, pulled her claws and feathers out, shaved her hair and had the scales removed. So these parts of her body are scared. Thing is, the FO themselves never cared about her mutations, so once she grew old enough that she felt she didn’t need Creed anymore, she killed him. Only the Fo themselves stood above her and she would no longer be commanded by lesser beings. By the time she meets Val her hair has regrown tho she keeps it short and messy bc it’s easier with the headscarf, hood and mask she wears during public appearances.

Both versions have pale, almost completely white, skin due to always being covered up. You can faintly see the veins and arteries below the skin. And she has brilliant blue eyes, like sapphires which form a stark contrast to the lack of the colour of the rest of her design.

______

On a side note: the whole thing with Creed ‘raising’ Alice feels a lot like what you or another anon was sending me about them wanting Mev to take over the main dimension and adopting Alice while Val is trapped in the Eternity Gate. So, that happened but with Mev instead of Val in the Eternity Gate and Creed taking Mev’s place.

[waytooinvested]

Storybooks and Siren Suits Pt 1

The first part of an AU where Patsy's family return to England for the start of WW2 instead of staying in Singapore, and Patsy and her sister are evacuated to Pembrokeshire. Not primarily a Patsy/Delia relationship fic (they're children) but the plan is to continue the timeline far enough that it will get there eventually. The burn will be slower than boiling a swimming pool with a magnifying glass though... Also on AO3 for those that prefer to read there.

‘Forty eight, forty nine, FIFTY ! Ready or not, here I come!’

As she spoke the words, Patsy turned another page in her book and read on, making no move to get up and search the room. 

The story was at a particularly interesting part, with a giant Alice stuck inside the White Rabbit’s house, too big to get out the door but unable to make the enraged Rabbit outside understand. More animals joined the siege then, attempting to climb through the window or down the chimney to get at her, but being knocked back each time by one of Alice’s giant hands or feet. It was funny to read about her batting them away and launching Bill the lizard right into the air with her foot, but it was frustrating too, because if only they’d listen they’d realise that she wasn’t being deliberately naughty, she couldn’t come out.

The crowd outside were calling for the house to be burned down with poor Alice still stuck inside it, when finally Patsy managed to drag her attention back to the real world for long enough to call out:

‘Where could Grace be? Is she under the bed? Ah hah … no that’s just her shoe. Bother, I was sure I had her that time!’

There was a suppressed giggle from the next room, where Patsy knew perfectly well that her little sister was crouching behind their big doll’s house ( Patsy’s dolls’ house), her fingers pressed tight over her mouth in an effort to keep quiet.

She hadn’t actually seen her there, but it was the same place Grace had hidden every single time they played hide and seek for the last month, so it wasn’t hard to guess. She probably looked quite a lot like the giant Alice actually, with the top of her head on full display above the red painted roof and a foot or bit of elbow poking out around the edges of the walls; as if she too had grown too big for her house and was beginning to burst right out of it.

Grace still seemed to be blissfully unaware that hiding so she couldn’t see Patsy didn’t mean that she couldn’t be seen herself, or indeed that her sister might not be trying very hard to find her.

Not trying at all, really.

As long as Patsy called out every few minutes to make it sound as though she was looking, her sister wouldn’t notice that the game never seemed to end with actually being found. It couldn’t last forever of course, but for now, games of hide and seek offered a rare opportunity. Grace would be happy playing what she thought was a secret game with her sister’s prized possession, and Patsy would be free to do whatever she felt like, unencumbered by her demanding little sister. 

She could draw a picture without having to risk the points of her colouring pencils by letting Grace scribble with them; or read an entire chapter of her book without having to fend off repeated requests to read ‘Orlando The Marmalade Cat’ aloud instead (‘because you’re my Marmalade sister Patsy!’); or even (best of all), have a chance to play her own small, secret game with Matilda, the tiny teddy that usually had to stay hidden in her pocket for her own safety. 

Matilda was very definitely Patsy’s bear, but, like all Patsy’s favourite toys, Grace coveted her, and tried to take possession of her whenever she could. In most things Patsy tended to let her sister have her way simply to keep her quiet (and so avoid the wrath of grown ups for not ‘playing nicely’), but Matilda was different. She couldn’t hand her over. It would be like cutting off her own hand.

Grace would end up screaming and drumming her heels against the floor, while Patsy held Matilda safely out of reach above her head and waited for the storm to pass. But of course the noise would almost always bring a grown up running to investigate, and they would inevitably take Grace’s side, telling Patsy to let her sister have the teddy because she was younger, and wasn’t Patsy too old for silly teddies anyway? (no, she wasn’t. Not if it was Matilda).

Then she would have to look on in silent agony while Grace played triumphantly with her prize; afraid every minute that Matilda might be dropped down a drain, or that her sister would tear her little pinafore or unravel the stitches in her smile. None of these things had actually happened (yet), but it was safer to just keep Matilda out of sight unless she was alone.

It wasn’t that Patsy disliked playing with Grace, not really. She could be funny sometimes, and quite good fun for such a little girl - certainly more fun than being all on your own all the time. But the last few months had changed things.

When they lived in Singapore they’d had their nanny to help jolly Grace out of her tantrums, and Patsy had had lessons most of the time anyway. But Maud hadn’t come with them when they’d come to England, and ever since then Patsy had been expected to keep her sister entertained all day long, every day, without the respite of school or visits to friends houses or anything at all. 

Of course Mama made sure they got up in the mornings, that they were dressed and fed, that they bathed and brushed their hair and teeth regularly; but the endless hours in between breakfast and lunch, and then lunch and supper, supper and bed, those were Patsy’s responsibility. She was expected to keep Grace happy and busy, but also quiet, tidy and well away from anywhere she might disturb the grownups of the house, and it was exhausting.

At eight, she felt both much too old and much too young for the task. Too old, because the kinds of little girl games that Grace wanted to play felt twee and silly to her now (let's be cats! You have to be Orlando because you have orange hair, and I’ll be Grace because that’s my name too!’). Too young because it was hard work, taking care of Grace all the time, and her sister didn’t always listen when she told her to do something, not even if she put her hands on her hips and went all cold and stern like Mama, or shouted like Daddy.

The only time she really got to herself, other than if Grace fell asleep first, was during the games of hide and seek.

‘Ah hah, she must be on top of the wardrobe! I see you up there you little monkey!’

‘Patience? What are you shouting about?’

Patsy jumped, instinctively dropping her book and leaping to her feet as if she had been caught stealing from the biscuit tin rather than reading quietly to herself in her bedroom. 

‘I’m just playing hide and seek with Grace, Mama’.

Her mother’s gaze settled for a moment on the dropped book, but she seemed distracted, and she didn’t bother to point out that the chances of finding her sister in the pages of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ were slimmer even than the chances of such a small girl managing to climb to the top of their imposing victorian wardrobe.

‘Very good dear. Well, leave that now. I need to talk to you’.

Patsy’s heart gave a little stutter of foreboding. The only times Mama ever came to talk to her unexpectedly were to tell her off, or to deliver bad news.

In fact, the last time she had said ‘I need to talk to you’ in that same way, it had been to announce that they were moving back to England. She had said it as though it was a good thing - ‘we’ll be nearer to the family, and able to offer support to our homeland in her hour of need’, but it didn’t feel good.

Until Patsy was six they had moved around a lot, never staying in one place long enough for her to make proper friends. Sometimes it had felt like it wasn’t even long enough for her to unpack all her toys from their shipping crates before she had to pack them all away again and go to yet another new house. 

Then they’d gone to Singapore. 

There had been no more moves for nearly two years, and she had finally dared to believe they would be staying forever this time. She had had a best friend, and gone to school with other girls like her, and she had been happy.

But four months ago her mother had said ‘I need to talk to you’, and all of a sudden she had to leave everything behind - her friends, her pretty bedroom with the window seat and real four poster bed, her school where the teachers liked her and she had been about to be given a prize for her English composition, all gone in the time it took to say those six little words.

Worst of all, she had had to say goodbye to Maud. Her nanny had been the only grown up in the world who didn’t tell her she was too old for childish games or teddies, the one who had instead given her cuddles and told her stories and sometimes even taken her side over Grace’s when they argued. 

And then she wasn’t anymore, just like that. 

Maud was from England - she had come with them long ago when Patsy was small, and travelled around with their family ever since. But this time she hadn’t wanted to come. She had explained that there was no one left for her in England, and with the current troubles she’d feel safer where she was, though she hadn’t explained what she meant. She had just hugged Patsy and Grace very tight and said she’d miss them; only she couldn’t really have meant it - not as much as they’d miss her . If she had then she’d have come with them so they could all stay together and it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t have anyone else in England - they’d have had each other. She would never have gone off to be a nanny for their neighbours horrid little boy, as if she could replace them just like that.

Patsy dug her nails into her palms and focused on her mother, trying hard to ignore the way her heart was still thumping under her smocking as she thought back over everything she might have done to warrant a telling off.

‘It’s about your little… holiday’.

‘With aunt Florence and cousin Eleanor and uncle Peter?’

‘Yes yes, there’s no need to recite the whole list dear. Well, I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan. We’ve had word that poor Eleanor is very unwell. The doctor is hopeful that she will recover in time, but she’s going to be poorly for a while, and even when she’s better it’ll need to be quiet so that she can convalesce - do you know what that means?’

Patsy opened her mouth to say yes (although actually, she wasn’t absolutely certain), but Mama continued without waiting for an answer; though she had told Patsy often enough how rude it was not to let other people finish.

‘Well, it means you won’t be able to go and stay there anymore’.

‘But… but we have to go. What about school?’

She and Grace had been going to enroll in the smart girl’s school near where their aunt lived in rural Sussex - they already had the uniforms, pressed and carefully folded in their trunk, ready to be transported. Her mother might call it a holiday, but they were supposed to be staying with their aunt at least two terms, maybe for the whole school year; with Mama visiting as often as she could. 

It was going to be Grace’s first time going to school, so the two of them had spent hours looking at the prospectus that aunt Florence had sent - Grace pouring over pictures of smiling girls in smart uniforms, large playing fields and airy classrooms; while Patsy read out the words (only stumbling a little at the longest ones) and tried to describe what school was like. She wanted Grace to be excited about going rather than scared, so she’d focused mostly on friends and playtime and learning how to read story books to yourself, rather than mentioning strict teachers and French verbs and sitting still or else.

‘You’ll go to a different school of course’.

Patsy bit her lip. She didn't want to go to a different school, and Grace definitely wouldn’t want to either. The school in Sussex looked quite nice, but not all schools were. There was a convent school that they had to walk past on the way to the park, and it was the scariest place ever. Probably scarier than a prison. It was a big ugly building with small windows and no playing field at all. It had high railings around it with nasty looking spikes at the top, and the nuns she occasionally glimpsed striding across the playground always seemed to be frowning, as if they were looking for someone to shout at or rap with a cane. And they had the uniform for the other school now, so they’d get in trouble right on the first day for wearing the wrong clothes, and all the other girls would know that they didn’t fit in just by looking at them.

‘Can’t we just stay at home? I… I’m sure I could teach Grace, and do my own lessons out of books as well, I know I could’.

‘Of course you can’t stay here Patience, don’t be absurd’. 

‘But if we can’t go to aunt Florence then we’d be here after school anyway. I could look after us during the day too, easily. We’d be very quiet and not get in the way, truly’.

The words were accompanied by a sinking feeling as Patsy imagined how hard it would be, not only to have to look after Grace all day long, but to actually teach her lessons as well. She already often felt cross with her sister, and that was when they were just playing; it would be much worse trying to teach her to add and spell and recite. At least at school someone else would have done that part while she focused on her own classes, and they both could have made friends their own age instead of being stuck together all the time. 

But they couldn’t go to the convent school, they just couldn’t . So she would manage somehow. 

‘You won’t be here after school. I do wish you’d listen! You need to leave London. It will be too dangerous for children to stay here now War’s coming, you know that’.

Except Patsy didn’t know. Not really.

She had been listening as hard as she could ever since Mama had first told her they were leaving Singapore, but no one ever actually seemed to say what they meant . They hinted at things she didn’t understand, or started sentences without finishing them, or simply told her that it wasn’t a nice thing for little girls to ask about and sent her out of the room.

She did know that the grown ups acted very busy and very serious all the time now - that Daddy had signed up to be an officer in the army, and Mama was going to ‘do her part’ in London while Patsy and Grace went away to school (although even Mama didn’t seem to know what her part actually was ).

Patsy knew these things, but they didn’t feel real. It was like it was just a big game they were all playing for now, but would get bored of soon and go back to normal. They had to, because the idea of whole countries fighting each other didn’t seem like something that could ever really come true. The Wars had all happened years and years ago when Mama and Daddy had been children, or even longer ago in the proper olden days, when things had been different to how they were now. Wars belonged in history lessons and text books, not in real life.

But if, somehow, it really was going to happen, if there would be bombs and fighting right here in London - then why would it be dangerous for her and Grace, but safe for Mama? It didn’t make any sense, and Patsy longed to say so - to argue, maybe even shout that it wasn’t fair... Except you never argued with Mama (and never ever shouted at her), and she couldn’t think of any way to put all her worries into words that wouldn’t make Mama say she was being disrespectful.

‘What you’re going to do is exactly the same as all the other children in London. You’re being evacuated to the country, and a family there will look after you until it’s safe to come home’.

‘But we don’t have any other aunts, do we?’

‘It won’t be an aunt, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’ll be… well, the government is finding good homes for all the children who have to leave London’.

The government ? How could they possibly do that? The government didn’t know Patsy and Grace, and they didn’t know anyone else in the whole country - only Aunt Florence, and even that was only a tiny bit, from letters and a few hazy memories of long ago visits. 

If they weren’t staying with an aunt and they weren’t staying here with Mama, then...

‘We have to go and live with a stranger ?’

The words wobbled as they came out no matter how hard Patsy tried to keep them straight, and her eyes felt a bit stingy, like she’d rubbed at them with salt on her hands. She could feel a shout building in her chest but she couldn't let it out, so it just kept building and building until there was no room left to breathe properly. 

‘Don’t be such a baby Patience! I’d expect this from Grace, but not from you, you’re a big girl now. You’re what, nine years old? Ten?’

‘Eight’.

‘Well, quite old enough to go on a little train ride, there’s no need to make a fuss. I’ve spoken to Sister Bernard at the convent school and explained your situation. She’s agreed to take you in hand on the journey, so you can travel with their pupils, and she’ll make sure you’re placed with a suitable family. I don’t quite know how it works, but I expect she has something arranged already. They’ll meet you at the station and take you somewhere lovely I’m sure. Perhaps with a big garden, maybe even horses or a boating lake, you’ll like that won’t you?’

Patsy nodded uncertainly. She liked horses, and big gardens (the London house was big inside but hardly had any garden at all). She liked lakes and boats too, but she couldn’t quite believe that all these things would really come true. Even if they did, it would be in a strange place with a strange school and people they didn’t know even a little…

Her mother must have noticed her wavering because she sighed and gave her a little pat on the shoulder.

‘Come on now, straighten that spine and put on a smile to show me how brave you are. You’ll have to be a good grown up girl and take care of your sister while you’re gone you know. She’s still a baby really-

Grace was four , very nearly five. Why did she get to be a baby when Patsy had to be a good grown up girl?

‘-so you shall have to be like a little Mama to her. I know you won’t let me down, will you dear?’ 

She didn’t feel at all sure, but Patsy did as she was told, standing up straight and plastering a too-big smile across her face as she answered ‘no Mama’, even as her heart pounded away and her palms grew sticky with sweat.

‘Good girl. Now, that’s enough talk, I need you to pack a little case for you and Grace. I’ve left a list of what you’ll need on the hall table so it shouldn’t be too difficult. We’ll be going to the station in the morning, so I want you to finish before bed, alright?’

‘We’re leaving tomorrow ?’

‘Yes dear, I just said that didn’t I? It really is tiresome when you make me say everything twice. We shall go to the station after breakfast tomorrow. So, pack what you need tonight - only what it says on the list though, you’ll need to fit it all in one case as Grace won’t be able to manage her own, so do be sensible. I wish I could stay and help, but I have Mrs Edwards arriving any minute to discuss the WI fundraiser, and I’m afraid they simply can’t get along without me. But you can manage, can’t you Patience?’

Patsy nodded, keeping the big, silly grin stretched uncomfortably across her face until her mother had disappeared down the stairs, then she let the smile drop and her shoulders slump. 

She reached into her pocket for Matilda, giving her head a gentle stroke with the tip of one finger, reassured by the familiar velvet softness of her. She imagined her bear reaching up to hold her finger with a tiny paw and tell her that she wasn’t going to be on her own at all. If anything the slightest bit scary happened while they were away then she would simply call out to all her big bear friends and they would come to the rescue. 

‘I might be just a little bear myself Patsy, but I’m a bear queen and my friends are the biggest, fiercest bears in the world, they won’t let anything bad happen to us’. 

She sighed and closed her fingers around the teddy for just a moment, wishing she really could summon some giant bears to come and take care of her. She could live in their cave and eat honey sandwiches every day and sleep between the big paws of the mother bear where not even bad dreams would dare to trouble her... 

Patsy let Matilda drop gently back into her pocket and trailed miserably out to the hall to find the list. On her way out the door she glanced back at her book and hesitated for a moment, but then left it where it had fallen, its pages splayed out forlornly on the floor. She didn’t have time for Wonderland anymore.

[timeisacephalopod]

Have a TonyRhodey AU in which Tony is complaining about his children to Rhodey, who is not at all lost on the fact that Tony’s kids act like him so its kind of funny that he’s mad about it.

*

Rhodey laughs, hand covering his mouth and Tony lets out a noise of frustration. “Stop that! You don’t get it, Peter was being deliberately stupid. Like who decides to walk up to the cops with information on the asston of property damage and say ‘do you want the tea?’ instead of just telling them what happened?”

He doesn’t say anything about that time he and Tony got into a nasty car wreak that neither of them should have survived let alone come out untouched only to tell the cop that he’d rather be eating a burger than talk to them. And he did this for an hour until he got the damn food, then he continued to purposefully badger the cop because he thought it was funny. So its really not shocking that Peter thinks irritating the cops is funny too, he comes by it honestly. “That’s pretty funny,” he says and Tony’s eyes bug out of his head.

“No! Give him those ‘respect cops’ talks you always gave me, shithead!”

Rhodey squints, “I gave you ‘don’t torment cops with your black friend in shooting range’ lessons, lets not twist things. And no, parent your damn self you were the one that adopted like fifty kids.”

“Excuse you we have three and one is part time Pepper’s so she barely even counts so really we have two kids and a pest,” Tony says. “Fifty kids my ass. And you’re his parent to, do parent things,” he says, poking Rhodey in the side.

He smacks Tony’s hand away, “stop that. And Morgan is your actual child, how’s she count less?”

“Because Pepper has her equal time, Rhodey. And they’re all my actual kids, just because one was once a sperm that was-”

“Okay, you don’t need to finish that sentence. Peter sassing the cops is so not the worst thing he could be doing. Remember that ridiculous Jake Gyllenhaal looking bastard with the fish bowl head? Absolutely worse shenanigans than asking the cop if he wants the tea. Just saying.” And Peter is a good kid too, the least troublesome one they have and the little bastard got bit by a radioactive spider and became a superhero. But he’s the least troublesome kid they have. Sometimes Rhodey wonders if Tony is secretly Harley’s actual father because they share way too much in common and how come none of the kids are like him? Rude.

“Fine, Peter being a dick to cops is fine. Harley nearly died twice because, and this is a quote, ‘I wanted to make a cool Tik Tok.’ I had to look up what the fuck that was,” Tony says, exasperated.

Yeah, Harley is a certified Dumb Bitch but if Tik Tok and superheroes had been around in their youth he knows he’d have to find a way to save Tony’s dumb ass as he made videos in the middle of superhero battlefields. Shit, if that was the case in their youth deciding to make cool videos would have been Iron Man’s origin story instead of the terrorist thing.

“Tones you know you’d do the same thing, you can’t really judge the kid,” he says reasonably.

If it were possible for steam to blow out of Tony’s ears it would have. “He almost died twice under crumbling buildings for a twelve second video with Mii music in the background captioned ‘my last brain cell trying to avoid death while I ruin my life.’ He almost died twice for that,” Tony says like he didn’t once give out his personal address to terrorists only to be surprised when they blew up his house. And that’s one of the less dumb things Tony has done that’s nearly resulted in his death.

“Uh huh. Baby I hate to tell you this, but he’s just acting like you,” he says, wincing a little as he says it.

Tony reacts exactly how he thinks he would, mostly offended about it. “Rhodey, that is the problem. I’m an idiot, I like to think I have raised my kids to not be idiots.”

“Eh,” Rhodey says, waving hand. Tony smacks him playfully.

“Don’t be rude and talk to the kid, he listens to you,” he says like Harley doesn’t listen to him too.

“Its a phase, he’ll get through it,” Rhodey says.

“He almost died for a twelve second video that is an insane phase! Why are you not worried about his safety?” he asks, confused.

“I’m assuming this was the same event where Peter asked the cops if they wanted the tea, yeah?” he asks.

Tony huffs, “that’s not the point.”

“Is so. I know you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him and neither would Peter, he was fine. Stupid, but fine. Besides, I can’t talk braincells into the kid,” he points out. “Didn’t work on you anyway.”

“Well... can you just talk to him?” Tony asks, shoulders slumped.

Rhodey shrugs, “yeah, alright. I doubt I’ll do more than you did but I can talk to the kid.” Tony nods, visibly relieved and Rhodey waits for him to go on but he doesn’t. “And Morgan?” he asks, figuring she’s gotten into some kind of something this week. Last time he got an update she tried to bleach her hair so she could dye it pink except she’s five so that didn’t go well and Tony spent a lot of time yelling about potentially going blind while Morgan watched on. Her only defense was that she’s not dumb, she knows not to bleach her eyes.

He’d had to leave that alone too and he and Pepper had a quiet moment about how Tony one hundred percent would have done the same thing. Kind of did in college when he decided to go blond and he looked awful. Then he decided the solution was shaving his hair short, which mostly made him look like a skin head so Rhodey told him to dye his hair back but Tony’s dramatic ass hid under the bed for a month until it grew out enough to leave for more than a few hours at night to eat, shit, and shower. So really, Morgan was just reaching out to some Stark genes there and she was fine, if sporting some awful hair, so he and Pepper got a good laugh out of Tony’s reaction.

“Oh she’s fine, turns out she’s a music prodigy so there's that. But I’m sure she’ll do some stupid thing soon. In the meantime though she’s not doing anything particularly stupid so that’s nice, I’ve got my hands full with Harley and Peter anyway.”

That doesn’t surprise Rhodey much, she insults Tony’s music taste too much to not know things about it. “Guess she had some insight when she told you Alice Cooper was worse than Barney,” he says and Tony makes an offended noise.

“She did not!”

*

Rhodey looks over the kids sternly until Morgan raises her hand. “I didn’t even do anything so can I leave?” she asks. He nods and she grins, taking off presumably to go harass Tony about his music that she’s deemed awful. Tony has threatened to disown her four times today alone.

Harley and Peter wilt a little and Rhodey sighs. “Harley, nearly dying for a Tik Tok is not nearly a cool enough death to risk it. Peter, that’s hilarious. Keep pissing off New York’s finest, you’re bullet proof anyway. Stop doing it in front of your father though, I’m tired of Tony losing his ass about it.”

Peter frowns, “I’m not bullet proof.”

“I rescind that, stop pissing off New York’s finest, I don’t put it above at least one of them to shoot Spiderman. Harley, learn how to edit, man. What the hell are you doing running around in superhero battles for? Go ask Ned if you need help with it, you know Ned is good at editing and he’s a good boy, I’m sure he’d help you.” Helped Peter hack into his suit and they both thought Tony didn’t know right away like he didn’t plan for the possibility that someone would tamper with the suit Peter or otherwise. Ned got himself a job out of it and Peter got grounded, which meant no Spiderman.

“Please don’t call Ned a good boy,” Peter says, wrinkling his nose.

“Hey, I found another Spiderman and his suit is way cooler than Peter’s!” Morgan says from behind them. Rhodey turns to find a kid standing there in an admittedly very cool design but its clearly painted over one of Peter’s suits. He’d recognize one of those suits anywhere the design is so unique. He turns to Peter, who smacks Harley.

“You said he was well hidden!” he hisses.

“Morgan’s a busybody, you know that!”

“He was in your closet, that’s not well hidden. You should have hid him under the sink,” Morgan tells them, hands on her hips.

Rhodey lets out a long suffering sigh. “Alright kid, who are you?”

“I’m not Miles Morales. I’m some other guy,” he says, looking away and Rhodey hopes this kid has loving parents because he’s absolutely dumb enough for Tony to adopt.

“Yeah alright, lets get you to the lab so you can get your own suit. Peter, you can explain yourself to your father and Harley, you too. Morgan... good work,” he says awkwardly but Morgan looks proud of herself so at least there’s that. Miles looks upset that he’s outted himself but it does seem like Peter is incapable of finding friends who are good liars. Better for him and Tony though so he’ll take it.

[focsle]

3/3 Character bios for Occult Telemarketer Bug Comic!

Basics Name: Alice Aubrey Nickname: None Age: 32 Gender: Woman Zodiac: Capricorn sun, scorpio moon, sagittarius rising

Physical Characteristics Height: 5’6” Weight: 120 lbs Distinctive features: She’s often got paint on her somewhere and carries the faint smell of turpentine around with her. Mannerisms:  She has very good posture, and often does body check ins for herself and also reminds others to do so too so they’re not crumpled in some weird position. She moves in a very deliberate way, with intention. Doesn’t needlessly expend a lot of energy. Voice: Deep and carries well, though she rarely raises her voice. She’s got a smooth-spoken ‘I could read audiobooks’ sort of vibe. Fashion: The look of someone who was a very gaudy goth in high school who went into high-end art sales as an adult and couldn’t keep up the look. She still wears almost entirely black, but in an understated dressy way save for some kind of unique jewelry statement piece. Also still fond of intense boots and never gave up her labret piercing. Fancy goth-lite.

Lifestyle Current place of residence: A small city in Upper World 247. The setting is like, US-Coastal-City-Adjacent, but isn’t a specific real-world location. She has a studio apartment that she lives in on her own with two cats.

Occupation: She’s a painter with work that leans heavily into surrealist horror. While she has gotten a number of gigs designing book covers and tends to have frequent gallery showings, it wasn’t enough to pay the bills so she also worked as an art handler ranging from installing in homes and galleries to transporting museum-quality work for very fancy auctions. That’s how she met Roth when he was two steps away from a nervous breakdown at the auction house they both used to work at. After he quit and got involved in his weird cult marketing scheme he reached out to her first, knowing of her art. She was intrigued and signed on shortly after.

Habits: Sort of like above, she does little physical exercises from time to time. Hand exercises, things like that. She’s also a big doodler, scribbling in the margins of notes or receipts, ripping up napkins in artful ways while waiting for a food order, etc.

Hobbies: Outside of her painting which is a career, she’s also a bit of a maker and does small runs of little sculpts and things. Going to museums but usually for specific shows rather than wandering. She wants to practice being a psychic, mostly in trying to talk to her cats, but hasn’t had any luck. Also helps out at a feral cat sanctuary sometimes. Also tries to be psychic at them.

Emotional Traits Personality: Alice is someone who has a great poker face, and it can be hard for strangers to get a read on her. She’s very measured in her interactions with people, so it’s hard to tell at first if she likes or dislikes someone. She is warm towards her friends, in a way that appears reserved but is always thoughtful, and is good at knowing what individual people need the most when she extends her friendship. She’s a bit no-nonsense, but is also quite open to new experiences. She is pretty much very interested in the possibility of Weird Shit, while also being very pragmatic about Weird Shit.

Positive traits: Attuned to people’s needs, extremely detail-oriented, trustworthy, frank

Negative traits: Falls into the trap of having to ’suffer for her art’, often appears aloof, sometimes her frankness can be cutting, can be impatient

Religion/belief system: She’ll believe it herself when she sees it, but isn’t about to dismiss anyone else’s beliefs. She’s interested in esoteric stuff in that she’s curious, doesn’t necessarily believe in it outright, but is willing to experiment.

Likes: Weird coffee-table art books, ambient music playlists, maker’s markets, finding time for herself, dream analysis.

Dislikes: Parties, hearing her own customer service voice because she can’t live on her art alone, people who don’t give her space, having to drive an art van...scary.

Goals: She’s really devoted to her art in a way that is sometimes hard to separate her own identity from it. She’s interested in capturing images and feelings outside of her own waking experience, and is always pushing her own visual perceptions to create something new. Bringing new things into the world and sharing them with other people, and hopefully having other people connect with them on some visceral level is her big thing.

Relationships Parents: Helen and Gregory Aubrey Siblings: None Orientation: Bi ace Relationship status: Single Notable relationships: Helen and Gregory Aubrey: Her parents who live out in the suburbs and Do Not Understand her art career. They’re mildly supportive of her in that they will come to a gallery opening from time to time and have a polite but visibly confused smile for the entire time. They were REAL EXCITED when she started working as an art handler at the Big Name auction house because it was something they could brag about on her behalf. She hasn’t told them she’s quit yet because she’s enjoyed them not asking after her work life and don’t want them to start up again. But she’s cordial with them and doesn’t really have a bad relationship with them. She just knows what is less frustrating to talk to them about.

Hypnos and Thanatos: Her two sphynx cats who are her BEST FRIENDS. Anyone who trashes her cats are on her shitlist. They have their own social media accounts. Her studio is half covered in artsy cat-shelves. Roth fuckin loves them which is how she decided he was Good People. 

Roth Maxilla: She met him at the auction house when he was already kind of frayed and eccentric, nearing his midlife crisis, and giving less and less of a fuck about propriety. She thought he was weird but cordial, and enjoyed his cutting remarks about the sort of customers they both had to work with (even though she had to be mum about her own ideas for the sake of professionalism). They got to talking about her art, Roth was quite interested in it to the point that he came to her next opening and was fairly ecstatic about it. It surprised her, but pleasantly so. After he quit in his dramatic fashion she found the auction house far more dull, and was fascinated when he reached out to her again to talk about his new spooky job. She didn’t believe him at first but wryly went along with it until he literally showed her how he summoned things in this living room and she was sold. Multi-Dimensional Art Inspiration.

[addytheheartbreaker]

The Masked Singer human au

Cian the Teacup

Name: Cian Morales

Age: 27

Height: 6′1 ft

Appearance: Brunette bowl haircut with a shaved back and a long side bangs that covered his left face, black sharp downturned eyes (wearing blue eye contact, not always but in rare scenes), diamond shape head, always wears his smile (almost looks like a friendly smile mix with a smug smile). Tall, slim and slender T body shape, round butt (Cian: shhh >:3), light morena skintone, a scarred mark around his neck, a birthmark on his chest where his heart located, invisible healed scars on both wrist but his right wrist has the most invisible healed scars (his healed self-harms).

Teacup mode: Porcelain vintage teacup, brown tea/coffee hair with silver lining on the edges of his bowl haircut, his shaved hair is porcelain white with a flower design (based from the Alice in Wonderland flowers) and a handle decorated in silver, and several crack/broken located to where his scars, marks and representation on his body (3 cracks on his face; a small crack close to his right eye, a medium crack on his right cheek and a large crack on his left side of his face that was covered by his tea/coffee hair. All 3 cracks on his face represent his unstable mental problems from depression, intense pressure and stress, lackness and being pressure for being a perfectionist. cracks around the foot of the teacup/neck represent the marks around his neck, A very huge broken crack on his chest where his heart located was represent his birthmark and him being shot from his enemy since Rise of Dugsalan gang era, and cracks on both wrist represent his self harms while his right wrist has the longest crack than his left wrist.)

Personality: A two face personality. Good side: Perfectionist, Eccentric, Sweet, Socially friendly, Kind, a true Gentleman, very Intelligent, Hardworking, Dramatic, Polite, High spirited, Playful and Loving, Humble and Generous, Meek and confident. Bad side: Manipulative, Unstable, Hot-headed, Easily switches moods (Highly angry, Insanely reckless childish, seriously sadistic), Acted deliberate dramatic like a performance and Careless, Serious and calculative, Obsessive and Possessive (to someone he is very closed and his stuff), Overprotective, Rebellious.

Sexuality: Bisexual, taken by Ishmael

10 random headcanon about Cian:

Teacup’s painted design (on his teacup mask, his suit and his shave hair in his teacup mode) are based and reference from the flowers from Alice in Wonderland (which is here 1, 2, 3). Because of his obsession of the Alice in wonderland, especially his favorite character the Madhatter.

Cian’s mannerisms and dramatic posture are based and acted from the 1930′s cartoon and the Madhatter from the Alice in Wonderland.

Since he is a perfectionist but behind his perfect persona he is actually broken and being pressure a lot. He is actually born in a high class family, parents being strict, has high expectation which force him to study, being isolated and trapped which cause him to be very indifferent and lacking.

He is lack for true happiness, love/affection from parents and experiencing the outside world. Since he had been isolated by other children who are playing outside having fun living in a boring, strict, rich and a “heated headed” family, which cause him to be a eccentric individual and become obsessed of his favorites that would considered “fun” to avoid boredom.

Cian owns a cafe “Sweet Madness Cafe”. He really loves baking, making tea/coffee drinks and other sweet desserts. Teacup, Paintbrush and Doll are all made their pastries together which makes his cafe success. His favorite is berries (any kind of berries) and always bakes and makes berry desserts and pastries.

The crack on his chest where his birthmark is. Since Rise of Dugsalan Gang era, before the Toxicity era begins, Cian was shot by a shotgun by his enemy who is a toxic friend/member and Ishmael’s toxic crush. It took him 4 years (on Madness era, 2018) to return back from his long absent.

Teacup was bisexual, the story is he used to date someone before he chose Paintbrush. He first dated girls who only using him and has zero empathy from the breakup due to his lackness, then started dating boys which gave him a stronger feelings than girls. Just until Paintbrush became a suitable lover because teacup felt true love from him.

DO NOT TRY TO SEPARATE THE TWO LOVE BIRDS! Ever since his second death, he hated learning Ishmael suffering from being alone and everything happened 4 years of his absence. Ishmael had became his new obsession along with Addy that he would protect.

Cian hated his high class life because he has been pressure from his strict family that put his childhood to boring isolation, yet he still care for his parents. He wanted to be rebellious like Ishmael (who is from a low class). However, lovers understood how both high and low class are torturous then they think.

He likes Carmelo (the Ice Cream) because he considered him a very fun, playful and enthusiasm person to hang out. Plus, he is a dessert person since Cian is a teacup filled with hot tea/coffee. Unfortunately, he learned that Ice Cream was a millionaire (because of his high class life) with a generous heart that gave teacup his respect.

Fun Fact: Cian is more romantic than Ishmael. He became hungry and obsessive over his boyfriend and giving him so many sweet and romantic gestures. He will do sweet complements, made his favorite sweets and treats, flirt and teasing him, groping his ass cheeks, doing romantic activities and many private dates. Cian can be very kinky when alone with him in bed in the most romantic way.

[toffeetaffy]

Beast at My Side [2]

The First Rule The first rule is: breathe. Every game has rules, she tells me, and this game is especially dangerous. Breathe. We need these rules because we're breaking another. One of Edwards. If he finds us he'll be furious, she whispers, and though she smiles as she says it, I can plainly see that it is true. Breathe. It's an easy rule to remember. Even as Bella wraps my legs around her, and digs her fingers in to my exposed upper thigh, I have no trouble drawing breath. When I press my face into her hair I want nothing more than to inhale. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And we're flying.

The world has disappeared; replaced instead with a never ending canvas on which we paint our own futures. Out here we can make mountains. Each slow, methodical stroke of the brush erases a part of who we were and replaces it with the promise of who we could become. Her legs slow minutely, and just when I think we are done running - we begin the climb. It takes no time at all for her to scale the tree, even with me clinging desperately to her marble frame. Near the top she releases me. My arms unwind from around her neck and I slide slowly down her body. She holds me close. It's strangely intimate, but not uncomfortable. A streak of thick tears roll down my face, settling on my wind-chapped lips before I can remember the rules. "Breathe." Bella laughs. The sound is at home here among the other birdsong. I want to tell her that I'm terrified. That I'm not ready to live in a world where monsters are real, and my best friend is dead, but the words are lodged in my throat. My heart smashes against my ribcage. The weight of knowing, the shame of pretending, burn me. "Breathe," she says it again. "Breathe." Back on solid ground we talk about our lives. Brilliant, golden rays of sunshine slash through the leafy canopies above us, igniting her skin as she speaks. She tells me about how she wants to go college one day—maybe in Alaska—about how being a mother has given her patience, and about how all this would be easier if Alice were here. I would hate Alice, she tells me, and rolls her eyes. Before she can elaborate on why, the words are bursting from between my lips. "Where is Alice?" "Gone." Is the reply. She does not tell me much more than that. Only that it has been a long time, that it was not much of a shock, and that they do not expect her back. I know how hard it is to lose a best friend. I wrap my arms around her, squeezing tight, and whisper my condolences in to the wind. At the cottage, Bella takes her daughters hands in hers and they converse in voices so quiet that I cannot make out a single word. They are a Christmas card. They are a magazine cover. They are everything that every mother aspires to be, captured in a single, eternal bell jar. I am tired beyond my years. Ren wants lunch. The concept is simple but Bella's face looks grave, and I am left to intuit the things that remain unspoken. I tell them to go. I smile cheerily and wave them away and try not to be afraid of the man left behind. He knows that I am. I feel him picking at my brain. It is not something that he can always control, I am told. Sometimes even he wishes that our secrets were our own. "Edward?" I ask quietly, unnecessarily. "Would you walk me to the main house?" As we walk, he tells me more about himself: pieces of his history, fragments of his dreams. I do not think that he tells a single lie but I suppose I will never truly know. His perfectly chiselled face shines dully in the late morning sun as he speaks. Like Bella; not like Bella. I hate him. He smiles at me ruefully, bringing me a stop with a gentle hand. There are no words spoken as a nervous sweat breaks out across the back of my neck. None spoken as I wrap myself up tighter in my sheepskin coat. There is a single word spoken when the wind whips across my knees, the skin exposed between the top of my tall boots, and the hem of my cream coloured dress. "Lena." It's a curse. He speaks my name with the soft admonishment of a father. Though I do not know his exact age, I can hear one hundred weary years in that name. "I could tell you that you're wrong about me. That every fear you have is unfounded. I could lean in close and tell you that I have never treated Bella poorly... and you would believe me." His nose is touching mine, his breath is in my mouth. I believe every word. "But all I really want is for you to know that I am trying." Mercifully, he draws away from me. "I'm trying to be a better husband, a better father. A better person." He's smiling, and it's shy and honest. Inside the main house, I rifle through my things in search of my paperback. The pages are yellowed, warped from the damp, and more than one vital passage has been torn away. Ravaged as much from my affection for it, as time itself, the book is a sad reminder. We hurt the things we love. Soft piano music lingers in the hallway - too muted to be real. I follow the sound. My footfalls are quiet, though never silent in this house, and my fingers flex nervously around the discoloured tome. The door is ajar. A single pale hand emerges, fingers closing over the door's edge and pulling it wide. The ashen face of the doctor greets me. "Bartók," I state. As though answering a question I was yet to be asked. "Frankenstein." His reply, gaze lingering on the book in my arms. "Would you like to come in?" The study is richly decorated; every wall covered in books and paintings. This would be my haven too, I think. An eternity could well be lost in countless books, fine paintings, and Hungarian composition. The doctor repeats the title of my book again. I tell him that it's my favourite and he makes a sound that is almost a chuckle, but just short of a laugh. He asks me if I am fond of monsters. Honestly, I do not know, but I answer him as best I can. "I'm trying to be." What I think might be a glimmer of understanding catches in his eye. He takes a deliberate step toward me. The reflex to take a step back is hard to fight, and were it not for his serene, youthful face, the way he looms over me might be menacing. But he has studied us for a long time. Humanity. He knows how close is too close and he is not yet there. When he reaches out, taking my face in his long, bony fingers, I close my eyes. I am safe in his hands. He inspects my wound and tells me that it is 'healing nicely'. For a time I follow the river. When it splinters off in to a series of smaller streams I follow one of those. Eventually the water is little more than a trickle through its muddy banks. The air is warm and damp. Everything in the shaded glade is slick with moss and ripe with summer. Verdant. I take off my boots, then socks, stuffing them inside and rest my book atop them. At the edge of the water my feet sink deep and the chipped red paint on my toenails is sluggishly consumed by the rich brown mud. I lay my coat out on the grass and sit: my book in one hand, the other picking absently at the dirt spotting my dress. It dries slowly on to the fabric, my outstretched legs, and even my hands. I feel content. ___ My phone beeps. I'm surprised it has a signal. Bella. I tell her not to hurry, that I'm enjoying the time alone. I tell her that I'm happy. It is only a text message, and they are not the best conveyance for emotional tone, but I hope that she reads it and knows that it is true. Being here, seeing her again - it's healing me. I imagine telling her that face to face. All too easily I can picture her replying that she think it's ironic, never having really understood the word. The imagining makes me laugh out loud. "Now that's what I call a smile." He stands at my feet, his faint shadow creeping up my muddied calves. A bell rings soundly in my brain: alarm. "I was beginning to think only Bella got to see those.” My mind struggles to string a sentence together, and my legs go uselessly numb. Even if I wanted to—even if I could—flight would be pointless. He crouches there at my feet, watching me with golden eyes and a crooked smile. Jasper is positively leonine. "You're filthy." His gaze makes a lazy sweep up my legs and I feel my own eyes widen to the point of discomfort. My silence stretches too long to be considered polite, and even though the toothy smile slips off his face he doesn't look offended. Blush creeps up the back of my neck. My ears tingle, and just as I worry that the heat of it will set my face ablaze he speaks again. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" "Yes." This should be where it ends. This is supposed to the part where the civilised monster takes his leave of me because humans are friends, not food. But he isn't. He's laughing. The sound is low, it makes my stomach feel heavy and I don't want it to stop. I hastily shuffle aside as he sits next to me on my coat, shoulder to shoulder, our legs stretched out, my feet brushing against his shin. The chill of his skin reaches my bare arms. He takes my book and begins leafing through the pages, smiling to himself. The stretching silence grows comfortable. My fear ebbs. "Jasper?" He faces me, one eyebrow raised in surprise as though he assumed I would never speak again. I continue, "If I insisted that you leave, would you?" For a time he considers me. "Yes. I suppose I would." Something about his answer feels unsatisfactory. The displeasure must be written on my face because he qualifies his statement. "Not because it's the right thing to do, mind you. Not because you asked me nicely. I would leave because that would be in my best interests. Offending you would upset Bella, and that has the potential to... disrupt our family dynamic." "That's painfully honest of you." He smiles again, "I thought you might prefer honesty." "I do. I just wasn't sure you did." He has the decency not to lie to me then. His silence is response enough. We sit together for a long time as the air slowly cools. The silences are punctuated with short conversations, or the beeping of my phone as I continue to text Bella. At one time I began to read aloud from my book, stopping when I reach one of the larger tears in the page, only to have Jasper recite the missing words back to me. Fascinating. Eidetic memory, he tells me, tapping his honey coloured curls. I read aloud a little longer and he continues to fill in the gaps until I reach the next sheaf of undamaged pages. For a solid minute I can feel his eyes on me. I close the book. He's too distracting. When I finally turn to face him he is so very close, his gaze scrutinising. "My eyes were brown once." I'm filled with a strange sort of melancholy at his tone. "Not bright like Bella's were. Dark, like yours." He swipes his thumb once across my cheekbone, under my eye. Were it not for the cool trail left on my skin I may not have noticed the feather-light touch. It's happening again. I'm drowning in his eyes. I reach out to touch him—return the gesture perhaps—when I catch myself. My skin a meagre centimetre from his. It is easy enough to withdraw my hand, less so to contain my babbling apology. It's just that it's all so terribly interesting, I tell him, and he smiles again. Then I simply cannot stop myself. I tell him every single thought I have had since learning their family secret, ask every single question Bella won't answer, and gripe about every single inconsistency in their existence. I feel such relief. I should probably be mortified at the prospect of him knowing all of this, scared at the thought of offending him. The embarrassment—the fear—never comes. Finally, I stop talking. He waits for me to catch my breath, that good-natured smile still firmly in place, before reaching between us and taking my hand in his. Slowly, he lifts it to his face, pressing my muddy palm against his pallid cheek. "Ask me again." He says, as my fingers lightly probe his unyielding skin. "Every question Bella doesn't wanna answer for you." With his perfectly sculpted lips resting against my small wrist, the pulse thrumming steadily within, I ask the question I least want answered. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. "Why am I still so afraid?" ___ ← prev  -  next  →

[theangryhistoriananna]

Tell me ALL about Jane Boleyn, I have to be at work in the morning and I want to procrastinate going to sleep Educate Me Please

Listen Jane Boleyn was a goddamn queen who did NOT deserve to be dragged like she was. 

-Jane Boleyn was considered extremely beautiful by 16th century English standards. We can pretty safely say this because she was picked repeatedly to show off in front of foreign ambassadors. The most notable being that she was chosen to take to France for the infamous Field of the Cloth of Gold AND not long after she was again picked to fill the role of Constancy in Chateau Vert. We also know that Anne picked her again to join her in a masque to impress Francis and the French nobles 

-Apart from being pretty the above examples also suggest she was rather accomplished in dancing. 

-Jane Parker was a distant cousin of Henry’s, and her father Henry Parker the Elder had been under the care of Margaret Beaufort who took an interest in him, promoting his interests, safe guarding his inheritance after his widowed mother remarried to a Howard, and promoted his match with Alice St. John-Jane’s mother. 

-Jane had several brothers and sisters, but as far as we can tell, only two made it to adulthood-her sister Margaret who married John Shelton and whose decedent once incurred Elizabeth’s wrath when she married without seeking her consent first and her brother Henry Parker the younger whose own son refused to swear to the Act of Supremacy and was promptly sent into exile for it. While Jane kept her religious views to herself, we know Henry was an avid supporter of the Reformation. Her father on the other hand was a Catholic.

-Jane had been in the service of Katherine of Aragon for some years before marrying George. We don’t know exactly WHEN Jane arrived at court, but probably before 1523. Cavendish, in his poem, mentions she had been brought up at court since a young age-though girls were not allowed to serve as Maids till they were thirteen. 

-Jane was most likely 19/20 when she married George. It is believed she was of an age with him, her birth date usually stated as being 1505, a year after George’s usually stated birth date. 

-Both George AND Jane were listed as being particular favorites of Katherine of Aragon and Henry VIII by Wolsey. 

-We don’t know exactly when but it seems Jane left Katherine of Aragon’s service sometime after Anne was formally recognized and joined her sister-in-law’s service. One could argue this was simply because she was considered Anne’s family, but given that several members of Anne’s family were left out of Anne’s service or stubbornly stuck by Katherine (chief being Norfolk’s wife) it’s equally plausible Jane was legitimately loyal to Anne. 

-While Anne was at her height in power, Jane was given a great deal of respect and dignity and featured as one of Anne’s foremost ladies, alongside Anne’s cousin Mary Howard, and Anne’s sister Mary Boleyn. Again Anne seems to have favored and preferred her family members, and Jane-as George’s wife-would have been viewed as much her family as Mary was. 

-Jane was a patroness who financially supported at least one religious man, and sought out positions for him to fill. 

-During Anne’s coronation march Jane was given a spot of the highest honor, allowed to ride directly behind Anne, with the kingdom’s most powerful and noted women, far above what her station as Viscountess afforded her. This was no small gesture, and it was likely very deliberate on Anne’s part. By placing her sister in law with the ranks of such women as the Duchess of Richmond, she was stating that Jane was now a woman of influence and should be treated with the highest regard. 

-According to Chapuys, Jane was banished once while attempting to help Anne get rid of a young woman who had caught Henry’s eye and had shown sympathies to Mary. Chapuys doesn’t report what Jane did specifically, only stating that it had been done in collaboration with Anne. Jane rarely pops up in Chapuys’ dispatches but when they do, it should be noted that he painted her as being in league with the Boleyns, not against them. 

-Jane wrote to George while he was in France. We don’t know what she said, for her letters don’t survive, but they are referenced by Anne’s chamberlain, who refrained from telling George in his own letter about a situation with Suffolk because he was sure Jane had already told him in hers. 

-Apparently it was to Jane, not George, that Anne uttered her infamous statement about her husband suffering from erectile dysfunction (and not being able to please her) While many historians have erroneously stated it was to George who she said this to, that’s a falsehood probably coming about because it was at George’s trial that the statement was used-suggesting that Jane had probably confided in her husband what Anne had said. 

-Also despite what some historians say it was not said that Jane told Cromwell that George laughed at the way the King dressed. The statement that George had done so cropped up immediately after the statement about what Anne had told Jane  in Chapuy’s report on George’s trial, leading for many people to scrunch the two statements together. 

-There isn’t much evidence that Jane Boleyn was the sole informant against her husband and sister in law. Most everyone who was actually present at the trials mention many other women by name as being responsible, but Jane is never one of the names given. Jane’s name never even cropped up on the list of suspects till decades after her death. 

-Three days after George’s arrest, Jane was allowed to get a short message to her husband in the tower-an impressive feat since communication was strictly forbidden between the arrested and their families. She wasn’t allowed to give the message herself but it was delivered to George by two political enemies of the Boleyns’. Ives and other historians have stated that the messengers were proof that Jane had had malicious intentions in her message, but more likely the choice of messengers was made by Henry and Cromwell, and that Jane had absolutely no say in the matter. The exact wording of the message is lost to us but we know from Kingston that it more or less asked after his well being and promised to petition Henry on his behalf. George is recorded as having asked the messengers to send her his thanks. While briefly he appeared comforted by the message we know a short while later he broke down into tears. People don’t give the fact that Jane not only managed to but even ATTEMPTED AT ALL to reach out to her husband enough credit. Jane didn’t leave George to his fate like the rest of his family seemed to do, she was the only one who came closest to doing what we often have Mary doing in alot of popular Tudor fiction: trying to help her family. 

-According to one historian, Jane made a pubic sign of sympathy for her husband. 

-After George’s execution Jane fell on financially hard times, made even worse because Thomas Boleyn refused to pay the proper amount due to her via her jointure. Infuriated she wrote to Thomas Cromwell complaining and asking him to help her get Thomas Boleyn to cough it up, and asking if Cromwell would return to her George’s plate as it would be a great comfort to her. 

-She fucking wrested her marriage bed back from Henry. Jane Boleyn was a badass in her own way. 

-Jane wore widow reeds for the rest of her life, and notably after 1536 only ever wore black (as opposed to before 1536 when she had a very colorful wardrobe). As has been pointed out before this doesn’t necessarily mean she was wearing it in mourning, but it should be noted Cavendish called her a widow “woe-begone in black” 

-She was listed as being a chief mourner for Jane Seymour at her funeral. 

-Princess Mary paid for repairs to Jane’s windows once, and on occasion gave her ladies’ money. 

-Jane is one of the ladies recorded as having the infamous conversation with Anne of Cleves regarding  her sex life (or lack of) with Henry. It was Jane Boleyn who was recorded as declaring “I do believe her majesty is a maid still!” 

-According to Katherine Howard, once Jane tried to leave her and Culpepper alone and Katherine had to call her back and reprimand her for neglecting her duties. 

-It was reportedly either Jane Boleyn who called Culpepper a sweet little fool, or Culpepper who called Katherine Howard that. 

-Jane stated in the interrogations that she fell asleep during Culpepper and Katherine’s meeting, but this is likely a lie 

-According to Katherine Howard, Jane was recorded as coaching her on how to handle the interrogators, and promised her she’d never reveal what had happened “to be torn with wild horses” 

-Jane most likely suffered from a nervous breakdown after her arrest, which Chapuys and other referred to as her “going mad”. She was taken from the tower and given to the constable and his wife to nurse. Henry even sent his own doctors to take care of her. Jane went through periods of “lucidity” at this time which is when they were able to interrogate her. 

-According to Chapuys’ upon hearing that she was to die Jane regained her “sanity” (most likely her composure) 

-Jane died after her mistress Katherine Howard, as the highest ranking was always executed first. Jane apparently made a speech, though there are conflicting tales about it’s length. Chapuys’ states she and Katherine both were to nervous to say much, but the French ambassador stated that it was Katherine who was relatively quiet while Jane made a lengthy speech. Otwell Johnson, in a letter to his brother, states that both women died with such dignity and bravery that he had no doubt both women were in heaven. 

-Jane’s body was found in Victorian times and given a proper burial and a marker which can be seen today on the chapel floor.

-Jane’s name is also listed on the monument on the tower green alongside Katherine, Anne and Margaret Pole. It’s touching that despite her nasty legend and reputation she has still been given proper respect and attention in monuments.  

-Far from being what we often see in media and in some non fiction depictions, Jane was not a vile bitter harpy desperate for revenge or hell bent on mischief. The Jane of records was a Jane who was loyal, charming, affable, and well liked, who wasn’t afraid to assert and fight for what she thought was hers by right, and who could not just survive but thrive in the courts of five very different women. Who succeeded despite the odds being stacked against her. The Jane of the records feels very much like a real human woman, not a cartoon villain. 

[maddiereviews]

Riverdale - Season 1, Episode 13

The episode begins with Jughead narrating what happened after Clifford Blossom hung himself - it turned out that the Blossom family business of maple syrup was a cover for their drug business, transporting heroin to Montreal. Jason threatened to expose the truth about this, hence Clifford killing him and attempting to implicate Hiram Lodge.

Sheriff Keller and Mayor McCoy want to know names of people who were dealing Clifford’s drugs. FP says that he isn’t a snitch, and that the Southside Serpents only deal in weed. The sheriff reminds him that he’s looking at 20 years in prison for the cover-up of Jason’s murder. So he names people, or goes to jail? It’s a harsh predicament.

Things around town are starting to go back to normal with the upcoming 75th Jubilee for Riverdale. Fred laments to Archie that he doesn’t know what kind of town this is anymore. Veronica and Hermione prepare for Hiram’s return home. Betty vents to Archie about everything going on, and that her family are acting normal. Even Hal has returned home. She just wants her family to be open and honest, not constantly hiding secrets and acting perfect.

Veronica tells Archie that they need to inform Betty that they’re in a relationship, although Archie is hesitant. He and Betty are called into the principal’s office, where Mayor McCoy wants them to have large roles in the upcoming Jubilee. The mayor wants Archie to perform with Josie and the Pussycats, and Betty to give a speech. They ask about Jughead, but the mayor doesn’t think having him on the stage is a good idea.

At lunch, Jughead tells them that the mayor wants his dad to give names. Betty is annoyed that the Serpents have been villainised by the town, while Clifford Blossom hasn’t even been mentioned. She wants to write and publish an article about the issue. Veronica tells Betty that she and Archie are an item, but far from being upset, Betty is happy for them as she’s with Jughead now.

At Thornhill, Penelope claims that their family is cursed and wonders what’s to become of them now. I’m still curious as to how much she knew about Clifford - she clearly knew about the business, but was she aware why Clifford killed Jason, or even that he had?

Fred heads into his office and demands to know where the Serpents who were working for him have gone. Hermione says she had to let them go as she can’t let Hiram’s project be associated with criminals. Fred says it’s not just her choice, and Hermione says and Hiram want to buy out Fred’s company. He says if she puts it in writing, he’ll consider it. He doesn’t sound happy though.

Archie approaches Josie with his song about his friend, but she blows him off, saying the Jubilee isn’t just about his friends. I really love how she’s always coolly blowing him off with some real truth. I wish we’d gotten to see more of her this season.

Alice refuses to publish Betty’s article, concerned that her safety will be at risk. She and Hal say the Serpents are a good target for people’s anger, and they don’t want Betty to become a target.

At River Vixens training, Cheryl hands over leadership - and her iconic HBIC shirt - over to Veronica. She’s confused, but offers Cheryl support regardless. At Betty’s, she tells her that she loved her article and Betty reveals she posted it on the Blue and Gold website. Polly walks in and says she missing school, and Betty convinces her to come back despite Alice not wanting her to.

When Jughead and Archie get home, Fred is talking to a social services worker about Jughead’s case. The woman says she’s found a foster home for Jughead, and when Archie asks why he can’t just stay with them, Fred admits that he offered, but with his cash flow issue it isn’t a viable solution. As Jughead will also be in a different district, it also means he won’t be attending Riverdale High anymore and will have to transfer schools.

Archie goes to update FP on the situation, but he refuses to betray any of the Serpents. He says the Serpents look out for each other, and they’ll do the same for Jughead. FP convinces Archie that he and Betty need to take care of him, especially when he tries to pull away.

At lunch, Veronica sits with Jughead when Cheryl comes up to apologise for the way she treated Jughead. She also hands him her spider brooch and says it’ll fetch a good price if he wants to sell it. Veronica is worried and asks what’s going on, but Kevin interrupts to say something has happened to Betty’s locker. The words ‘go to hell Serpent slut’ are on her locker, painted there in pig’s blood. Was this one of the other students? Where did they get the blood?

Hermione grills Veronica about her and Archie’s relationship, clearly interested to see if they’re close. She admits that she made Fred an offer that he's still considering. Veronica makes a sarcastic quip about sexually manipulating Archie into doing her bidding, to which Hermione responds it isn't a problem as long as she's in control. Veronica is disgusted.

Jughead vents to Betty, not wanting her to be in danger because of him. At home, Polly has told Alice what happened at the school. Betty says she’s sick of secrets and lies, and would rather be honest than hide behind the image of perfection. Betty asks her mum what FP was referring to the night he came over for dinner, when he said Hal and Alice were fighting, but Alice tells her it’s none of her business.

Later, Alice comes to Betty’s room to tell her the truth. In high school, on the night of the homecoming, she and Hal were arguing because she’d found out that she was pregnant. They disagreed on how to deal with the situation. Alice went to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy and when her son was born, they arranged for an adoption. She tells Betty it’s her biggest regret, and the two of them embrace. I assumed that they were arguing over a pregnancy, but I also thought Hal made her get an abortion. I’m interested to see if this brother will feature in the second season.

At school, Betty is telling Archie and Veronica that she has a secret older brother, who’d be in his mid twenties by now. She gets a call from Jughead, where he’s started at Southside High. The trio decide to go to the school to speak to Jughead and convince him to come back with them. When they’re outside the school after getting Jughead, Veronica gets a text from Cheryl that says she’s going to be with Jason. Alarmed, the group sets off for Sweetwater River in search of her. The fact that she was giving away her belongings to other people makes total sense now.

By now, the river has frozen over and Cheryl is out in the middle of it, trying to break the ice. She’s wearing the same white dress she had on the day she and Jason rowed across the river. They call out to her, pleading for her to come to the shore, but the ice breaks beneath her and she slips under. The group run across the river and Archie beats his fists bloody until he breaks the ice to retrieve her.

They bring Cheryl to the Lodges’ apartment, where Hermione is not impressed to see her there. Veronica says they had to help her after she got into an accident. There’s obvious tension between the two Lodge women, with Veronica referring to her mum as ‘Lady Macbeth’ and saying she got a ride to the Jubilee with Archie. I don’t know if leaving Cheryl alone, after she just tried to commit suicide, is a great idea but alright.

Backstage at the Jubilee, Veronica asks Archie if he has feelings for Betty. He says he doesn’t, he just saw how perfect she and Jughead were together and wants that with Veronica. They kiss, but are interrupted by Josie, who says that them saving Cheryl has led her to reconsider them performing Archie’s song. I really love that Josie has such a strong bond with Cheryl, and I really wish they’d explore this more in the next season.

After Archie’s performance, Betty gives her speech, where she speaks her mind and says they need to face the facts in Riverdale. Hermione asks Fred if he’s considered her offer, and he refuses to sell out to them. She’s shocked and doesn’t think it’s in his best interest, but he brushes her off.

Penelope arrives home looking for Cheryl, who’s standing with a chandelier in her hand. Penelope smells gasoline, and Cheryl claims it’s the only way that they can start over. She tosses the torch on the ground, and she and a hysterical Penelope stand outside Thornhill and watch it burn.

Archie, Betty, Veronica and Jughead celebrate with milkshakes at Pop’s. Afterwards, both respective partners head back for some raunchy times, however Betty and Jughead are interrupted by the arrival of a group of Southside Serpents. They tell him they take care of their own, as his dad hasn’t ratted any of them out, and hand him a gang jacket. Betty watches from the doorway as he puts it on.

The next morning, Archie meets his dad at Pop’s for breakfast. As he heads into the bathroom, he hears a commotion. There’s a guy in a balaclava apparently holding the place up, however he very deliberately turns his gun on Fred. Archie runs over to his dad and a gunshot goes off - Fred’s been shot. This attack was a deliberate one, and my money is on either Hiram or Hermione Lodge sending the thug after Fred when he refused their offer. I guess we’ll find out next season!

4 out of 5 stars

[marginalgloss]

Edward Frederic Benson was one of those enormously prolific Edwardian authors who, despite achieving quite a bit of fame in his time, has drifted some distance from his original status. He wrote over a hundred books, the vast majority of which are now out of print, but he is still known today for the Mapp and Lucia novels. These are a set of comedies based around the upper middle classes of his own time; I’ve never read any of them, though apparently they are pretty decent. More interesting to me are the ghost stories he wrote as a constant sideline throughout his career.

He wrote a lot of them: this paperback collection I found gathering dust in a charity shop contains over fifty, spread across some six hundred pages of small, single-set type. That’s probably more of these tales than anyone requires today; they are far from consistent in quality. It’s taken me many months of idle leafing in spare moments to finish this book, since after one or two stories, they can begin to seem a little rote. Most of them are built to a fairly standard format: a small group of young people take a house in the countryside for a leisurely season of fishing, shooting, golf, or some other idle pastime favoured by Bright Young Things. They are generally single, and of an urbane, leisurely type, free from obligations and dependents. But of course the place they have taken is not what it seems.

Superficially at least, Benson’s stories have a certain amount in common with the work of that other great genre writer, M. R. James. They’re the same in the sense that at heart, both deal in encounters with the inexplicable. But there’s a social aspect here that is a distinguishing factor. In James’ work, we generally follow a solitary individual, pressing alone into some historical mystery. There is an archaeological feel: the isolated scholar, working late into the night, uncovering some forbidden secret of the universe. But in E. F. Benson, the protagonist generally arrives as part of a little gang, or at least they are provided with a companion. Things are talked out, often at some length, and quite often things are fixed. That much would be inconceivable in a M. R. James story.

This might be the greatest weakness of these tales. There’s an urge here to contextualise everything, to try to explain supernatural activity in a way which erodes its more immediate effective qualities. To put it another way, if the reader comes to know every detail of the crime that led to a haunting, it loses something of the fright. And the characters here go on at length not just about crimes but all kinds of things: not only the common-or-garden ghost, but spiritualism, reincarnation, pantheism, palmistry, mind-reading, demons from other dimensions, and all kinds of things besides. One story begins with a discussion on Einstein’s theories, picking up on a common theme of time and space as a single continuum; if there is no such thing as past and future, then surely the boundaries between the living and the dead can be blurred. 

It is not without interest, though much of the pseudoscientific stuff is difficult to take seriously today. It’s also hard to see how seriously the author took it: there are stories here which ridicule fraudulent mediums, even while making unambiguous commitment to the supernatural elsewhere. And from time to time we glimpse something like the notion of ‘cosmic horror’ — that sense of vertiginous terror that comes with an awareness of one’s own insignificance, the essential determinism of all things, and of the vast alien forces at play in the universe — that so inspired the like of H. P. Lovecraft.

But the openly discursive sequences in Benson’s writing are ultimately a distraction from the atmospherics, which is a shame because the author can be a fine stylist when he chooses to be. When he sets aside the dialogue, and when he resists the tendency to over-embellish, these stories can evoke something extraordinary. Perhaps the most interesting example here is ‘The Face’, which surely deserves to be anthologised wherever such editions are available. It follows a woman, Hester, who has a reoccurring dream that has followed her throughout her life. For years she has dreamed herself in a strange place by the sea, near an old church on a cliff which is being slowly undermined by the waves. She knows she is supposed to meet somebody, but she never sees anybody there. And then she wakes up, terrified.

What happens to Hester when she takes a holiday, apparently unrelated, to a little seaside town? You can probably guess. But in the same way that Hester finds herself retracing steps she has taken many times before in her dream, the story rises to meet the reader’s expectations. It doesn’t try to duck or cheat them, as some weird fiction might: these are classic stories, and classic in every part of their execution. That tends to make them rather predictable as well. Of course there is something horrible for Hester at the end of it all. There’s rarely any innocent insinuations here, nor any happy coincidences. But when the imagery at play is so potent, perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

Other examples: ‘Caterpillars’, which deals exactly in vast quantities of the titular insect; ‘The House with the Brick Kiln’, with its prospect (always uncanny) of paintings of a house within that house itself; the sheer banal unpleasantness of ‘The Corner House’, a comparatively low-key story about a couple quietly killing one another behind closed doors in picturesque rural England. The last makes for an interesting example alongside ‘The Face’ because of Benson’s consistently unpleasant treatment of women in these tales. Hester is a rare example of a female protagonist, but even though she’s played relatively straight, her status as a woman is what leads her in part towards oblivion. It’s more typical to find that women are either marginal to the point of irrelevance, or if they do feature, they possess some mysterious power that makes them a threat to men. 

Joan Aiken provides an excellent introduction to my edition where she lays it out quite plainly: there’s a strongly misogynist streak here, particularly relating to ‘the large, bossy, dynamic, interfering, knowing kind of woman’. By all accounts, Benson was a perfectly pleasant and sociable man, but the facts of his life seem remarkable today, if only for how deliberately unremarkable he seems to have made himself. He always remained what was once called a ‘confirmed bachelor’, and never married, nor did he pursue relationships with women; he may have been gay, but he never expressed any interest in sex. Though he was stable himself, mental illness and domestic strife seemed to run in his family. Aiken is explicit and insistent in linking the author’s life back to the contents of his stories, and while I’m less certain, some aspects of his writing seem too strange to attribute to anything else. 

‘The Bath-chair’ seems especially telling in this regard. Here, the fit and healthy and enormously rich Edmund Faraday (a familiar set of initials) bullies his sister Alice; she takes revenge by apparently conspiring with the spirit of her father to condemn Edmund to a slow, painful physical decline and death. Stories like this aren’t frightening so much as unsettling for the bleak vision of human nature they present. Whatever one makes of the biographical approach to criticism, there is a distinct absence of happy nuclear families or Christian comfort to be found here. It’s a strangely godless world, considering that the author was the son of an Archbishop of Canterbury. The only contentment is to be found amongst friends and peers — and even then one is perpetually at risk from influences that cannot be controlled or understood.

[ebonyeagle]

DETROIT DIARY

Did this with Mankind Divided and thought it could be fun to do again! I’ve gone through this game twice already with friends (Both Pacifist runs) so I’m quite familiar with that part of the story. What I do want to explore now is all the bad choices which I’m an expert in (at least in real life) so let’s see where this adventure will go! Have fun guessing what scenarios I’m playing

NO NONSENSE, SAVE THE FISH

Aquarium must be a Heavy Rain throw back

“My name is Connor, I’m the android send by Cyberlife”

Connor, you know I love you but I’ll throw you off this building for fun, no hard feelings

Weee Todd time, I can’t wait to punch him. Or shoot. Or whatever it is you can

Hmmm this reminds me of something but I can’t put my finger on it

Wow, littering asshole! Pick that one up right now you lazy fuck

Let’s try and avoid that angry mop this time

Wow, getting mad at the Roomba now as well? Poor Roomba, it did nothing wrong 8C

Fuck this shit

Y ARE THERE DRUGS IN THE WASHING POWDER THAT NASTY LEARN TO HIDE STUFF  PROPERLY

Gun and anti-depressants, we all know what a good combo that is

I hope this means what I think it does

STOP! But can we all just take a moment to appreciate how beautiful the soundtrack is for this game?! <3

ANDROID BIRDS ANDROID BIRDS

Speed chess, is that an actual thing??

Okay, but how fun could it be if you could fuck up the painting quick time event and paint like, a blob or a stick figure!?

COOKIECUT

Alright, I like Hank and Connors relationship and it’s gonna be weird to knock it down in hostile territory

Oh, that’s a valid point. Not only are you a good boi, you are an expensive AF boi as well. Good luck paying the bill, Hank

ATMOSPHERE! RAIN! LIGHTNING!

Stormy night! Been looking forward to replay this; what other outcomes are there!?

Gonna move, bitch

As a good American, let’s grab the gun first

GODDAMMIT KARA Y DIDN’T U JUST SHOOT!? U HAD ONE FUCKING JOB

….Well, that was anti-climatic….

Seen both outcomes for this but for the sake fucking up the relationship with Carl  - PUSH!

MOVE, I GOT THE DADDY PANTS ON

STRESS, SHOOTING, DEATH

Would have loved to try the Motel but for the sake of Connor and Ralph, CREEPY HOUSE

Mud intensifies

Jayden did that much better, Markus

OMG HE’S SO CUTE I CAN’T EVEN!

Only thing here is trying to be douchebag towards Gavin?  -Did not go as planned, I am disappointed ;C

Sorry Connor but I am doing this for the lols

Ralph just needs a hug :C

THIS OST IS NICE

Run Kara run, I have much more fun stuff planned for you guys! I think. Actually, I don’t know what to do with you yet.

FUCK THIS PART

Wow, this scene is so much shorter now lol

Hmmm had hoped for some variation in the interactions here :/

Birds birds birds

Do we save or do we not? Let’s do none of it

This is just sad

Always trust a shady dude named Zlatko

is it actually possible to escape the reset? It is but gotta be quick!

Wow, so much shit is stored here - is that a cyborg polar bear???

I just ripped a dude’s heart out :D

Does that make me a murderer? Oh wait already killed Todd! I’m a good mother! Be proud of me Alice 

What do I want? Saving my child from a psychopathic mad man as time is running out! When do I want to do it? Just after I’ve read these magazines and watched TV

I wanna get Alice and Kara killed here, science you know

When you wanna kill your character but you are SAVED BY A GODDAMN POLAR BEAR

I find the doorbell hilarious - my humor is beyond salvation

The slap as well… I need help

Whatever, just kill the guy

Shooting people in the back since 2k38, true hero

No differences really but whatever, that merry-go-round scene is beautiful

This scenery is beautiful as well T_T I live for the snow in this game. And headshots  

Markus, this is Adam calling, he wants his coat and fashion style back

TRUMP

That was sarcasm, Connor. Know where to stick it?

Not much new stuff here really but for the sake of the graveyard, let’s do this

I feel this would have worked much better in the previous run

this is just sad

HELLO POLICEMAN

Hide evidence? Nah fuck it, let’s see what happens!

Oh, I got Luther murdered SORRY ALICE

I’m gonna burn this place to the ground

VIOLENCE

I guess the true way to go is pacifist but damn, violence just suits Markus so much better

Okay this relationship thing is getting painful :C

Hmmmmmm

VIOLENCE! I like this Markus much better!

I think North is pissed

Fuck u North

I’m going South

No, wait Hank D:

OH MY GOD HE ACTUALLY SAID BROMANCE AND THAT FUCKING SMILE

Okay this is so messed up but badass as well  

Oh, well fuck you too!!

….Oh….

Oh, so Lucy is Luther’s stand in! Hmmm liked Luther better here, sounds weird with her

Okay I lowkey hope MB will make a Detroit collection as they did with Deus Ex!  Who am I kidding, I’ll never be able to afford anything… RIP Hengsha-dream still crying for you

Lol, I don’t even have the deviant option

This is like an episode of Game of Thrones

But at least my bromance with Simon is evolving… I think?

Hmmmmm

I’m a horrible human being but my Markus is anger Markus

Bye Carl

Oh

:CCCCCCCCC

T_T T_T T_T

WHY!?

Okay, revolution Markus is sooo much cooler than pacifist Markus!

DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING?

I don’t remember your name but killing you + your henchmen was awesome!

This is so messed up

PRESS X TO ALICE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I SHOULD FEEL BAD FOR LAUGHING

Oh hi Ralph, fancy meeting you here!

Taking control of ma boi because fuck you guys!

So I know successfully hitting all the buttons will result in headshotting Markus but I accidentally missed some and that was extra fun!!! I got to rip off his arm and break his neck :DDD And of course shoot him in the head for a good measure :DD I’m enjoying this way too much….. halp

Hmmm picking you Ralph because character development!

What a sad sad scenery…. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to be tossed out like garbage

Wow wow something is wrong with your face!! And what’s up with that high collar thing!? This looks weird, please go away you are not my Connor!!

Okay so to sum it up:

I made Markus die hated and cursed by basically everyone including teammates and Jericho. Deliberately killed Carl, Josh, North, Simon and half of Jericho because I’m an angry ball of vengeance. 

Kara tried her best to be a good mum but kinda fucked it up and got Luther killed. Left alone with Alice as the sole survivors in a massgrave knowing she had to let friend die in order to escape.

Connor was cold AF, made Hank commit suicide and killed everything in the name of Cyberlife only to be tossed out like garbage in the end.

All in all, I would say I got a pretty good ending, 10/10 :DDDD

[daviesava-blog]

Voices and Echoes in Anatomy of a Suicide

I want to talk about Anatomy now.

I came out and felt blank. Kinda dissociative. I didn’t really want to clap. I sat on the steps of the Royal Court for forty minutes after it ended. I think if I could I would watch it with an audience made purely out of women and I would grip the hands of the people next to me the whole way through.

That writing. That writing is just so so so lucid. Just so clear and stark and sharp even when the characters themselves are drunk or high or manic or depressed and don’t know what they’re really trying to say. Alice Birch is completely in control. I’ve never seen a writer at the top of their game before (not that there’s any truth to the idea of peaking or whatever, but she feels so assured and like she knows exactly what she wants to do and how to do it).

The dialogue is sharp. It isn’t restrictive. Deliberate and precise, but not restrictive. It’s fully alive. I feel like I saw three full lives flit across that cold stage. I don’t know quite how much of that is down to Alice Birch and how much is down to Katie Mitchell. I like to think it’s an equal share.

Those women are so alone. Alone but defiant. Standing tall amidst chaos. Doing what they can in a world without much interest in them.

Women are incredible.

I’ve seen maybe two of Mitchell’s other productions, and I think of her plays as being v much Her Thing (YV Cherry Orchard, I’m side eyeing you) and even though they feel rich and textured they also feel removed. It’s kinda the same thing in Anatomy but it works. These women are part of this world but also detached from it. Their only real connections are to each other. Katie Mitchell lifts up the text, she illuminates it. She holds up the delicacy of the dialogue with firmness but also tenderness. Her precision matches Alice Birch’s perfectly. It’s a play and a production that are totally in sync. I need them to make more together.

Women are fucking incredible.

Alice Birch’s plays have always kinda reminded me of the best bits of lots of artists stitched together in a patchwork (moreso for Revolt - Anatomy feels a lot more synthesised but you can definitely still feel all the influences pressing in) but it’s also very much Her Voice Speaking.

History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.

It’s a play about Voices. Voices and Echoes. Mothers echoing down to their daughters, yes, but maybe it’s also about writing, how voices in writing stream down through generations. Maybe. Maybe that’s completely simplifying it. But it’s definitely about how influence works. Through mental illness. Through inheritance. Through behavioural patterns. And through art, maybe. You can feel the weight of all the writers who have shaped this play. It reminded me of Mr Burns.  How ideas and meaning get distorted, molded and snapped into position as time progresses. Ideas about family. Ideas about suicide. From the painting of Ophelia in the river to Anna in the bathtub.

It needs to be talked about. But in the right context. And with the right people. The play relies on voices to keep going. I think we have a responsibility to talk about it.

I feel exhausted just writing this.