#Clearly I am joking with the last part but oh my god black parade

[poolboyservice]

the black parade is making me nauseous rn guys . tbp you could never make me not love you.

all haters will be exploded with my mind btw

[whirlybirbs]

✶ ┈ PART TWO !

summary: loki meets the grandmaster and you intervene. the agreement (it’s really not an agreement, okay, more of a cause of circumstance) of parading as a married couple happens and neither of you are very excited about it. pairing: fake!wife reader x loki, set in ragnarok. a/n: hehehe here’s another 1.7k of these two. READ PART ONE HERE.

The third time you meet Loki, he’s strapped to that contraption the Grandmaster uses to intimidate the new fighters.

You’ve had a long week.

You’d woken up in a trash heap, bruised and sore and somehow alive. You’d decided, wholeheartedly, not to think too much about it -- not that you had an option. After stumbling over an entire mountain of inter-galactic trash being deposited by the varying collapsing stars around the planets atmosphere, you were quickly descended upon by a terrifyingly pretty woman with a tight braid and white symbols painted down her cheeks.

She smelt like booze and swaggered like a practiced warrior.

You didn’t trust her.

“You a fighter?” she’d called out, tilting her head.

“Where am I?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Sakaar,” she chirped, “Now, are you a fighter? Yes or no?”

The moment that followed was tense -- a bit like a standoff.

“... Depends.”

“Hm.”

She’d caught you in the neck with a tracker then, a smirk on her face the whole way. In one swift move, she’d thumbed open the control device in her hand and sent you convulsing to the ground.

“The Grandmaster likes the pretty, clever ones.”

Her condescending smirk was the last thing you saw before you blacked out.

You woke up in the same chair Loki’s strapped to currently, bleary eyed and confused -- that man, The Grandmaster as he called himself, had decided rather quickly that he liked you. Perhaps it was your sudden decision to praise him and his choice of make-up.

(That was a great way to make friends in the bathrooms of bars -- surely compliments are universal.)

“Who are you, then?” he asks with a slow smile.

“I’m a Doctor,” you say slowly, “I study astrophysics.”

The smile drops immediately.

“Boring.”

He’s about to wave his hands, then, send you off to some horrible fate, you’re sure.

“A-And I tell stories!”

(That wasn’t really a lie -- you had a minor in classics. If you recited the plot to Hamlet to any of the colorful people in this penthouse suite, you’re sure none of them would realize it. Perhaps being entertainment would be worth keeping you around until you figured out how the fuck to get back home.)

“Stories, huh?”

So, here you are now, swathed in Sakaarian socialites, faux-smiles plastered to your face as you giggle into your neon colored drink. Your gown is something deemed fashionable for this planet, all colorblocked and tight with high slits and low dips. Along your cheeks is the same stark white branding as the brazenly mean warrior-lady you’d first met on Trash Mountain. You realize, half-way through the application by one of the Grandmaster’s maids, that it’s a mark of ownership. It’s rather disgusting, the whole fact you’re someone’s property now -- but, you suppose that it’s keeping you alive and in this current state? 

You really can’t complain.

Until you see Loki.

You choke on your drink.

You stand swiftly, leaving your martini and the gaggle of others behind as you move quickly upon the center of the room. The Grandmaster reels for a moment at the obstruction amidst his usual induction -- and your jaw drops.

“You.”

Quickly, the look of surprise morphs into one of anger and Loki’s eyes widen. You feel like you’re suddenly had all the words you’d thought about screaming in his face these last seven days pulled from your brain and all you can do is snarl and shriek:

“... You!”

Your finger jabs his chest, prodding at the green and gold armor there with such ferocity it’s no wonder you’re not stabbing him. For the first time, Loki gets a good look at you -- it’s clear you’ve somehow managed to worm your way into this “Grandmaster”’s circle; it’s commendable. For a Midgardian.

The Silvertongue, with every passing moment, is beginning to see his opportunity to do the same slip away.

“What? What’s the matter?” the Grandmaster coos, circling Loki to place his arms around your frame. You stiffen. Loki watches you swallow your anger. If he wasn’t strapped to a chair, maybe he’d find your discomfort amusing. However, Loki can’t help but avert his gaze.

Your anger is well deserved, really. He did throw you out of the Bifrost.

“... Oh, I see what’s going on here.”

Both you and Loki blink at the Grandmaster.

“... I’m sorry?”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

Your face twists into disgust as Loki blinks between the two of you -- confusion splits his features into an attempt of a charismatic laugh.

“Good sir, I believe you’re mistaken --”

“No,” he raises a finger, “I’ve seen this before. And you told me of your crash landing, my pretty little pet -- you said you lost your friends on the way. Lost a love… Raven haired and pale...”

You’d been entertaining the party with a poorly remember retelling of Romeo and Juliet to the Grandmaster’s court, but okay. It’s pretty clear the Grandmaster is making his over revisions as well.

Loki’s brow quirks.

There’s a moment pause. Then, the Grandmaster stops his blinking between the both of you and claps his hands. “But, if not -- I’ll have him executed. Your reaction was warrant enough. Can’t have my best storyteller off her game, can I?”

The maniac’s ability to bounce between party and murder is astounding.

Loki’s eyes are wide. His look is pleading.

You, in that moment, are put in the biggest moral dilemma of your life.

You can, of course, turn the other cheek -- but that means cozying up to the global terrorist who unceremoniously threw you out of the Bifrost to try and save himself from his own sister. On the other hand, you’d be letting Thor’s brother die all while losing your potential way off this planet. But, there’s no guarantee the trickster will help you. However, if there’s anything you remember from that one mythology class in college, it’s that gods tend to honor their debts.

Saving his life is a debt owed, right?

(And honestly? Letting Thor down and never seeing your parents again sounds pretty horrible.)

“It’s just… I thought you were dead.”

Loki, in that moment, is nearly impressed by your acting.

“I was worried sick,” you continue, clearly gritting out the last bit, “I… I was sure I lost you.”

“Fear not,” Loki’s mood swings then into one of pure amusement, smirk brandishing his features, “I apologize for scaring you, my sweet.”

“You know,” the Grandmaster’s face is twisted into a grin, “I have this six sense -- I can just… smell love in the air, or something. I knew it, I mean… Look at you two. God, it’s… adorable. Really. So, what is this, huh? Just a… a fling? Or --”

“We’re married.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Loki’s got the same look on his face.

“She’s the crowned Princess of Asgard,” Loki says then, slowly. His eyes are glued on the way you shrink away from the Grandmaster’s gaze, “My wife.”

“Ass-gard, huh? Wow.”

He hums.

Loki is suddenly realizing there’s a reason to why you’re doing this. You’d made it apparent in the Sanctum that you weren’t intimidated by the likes of him. Somehow, though, this Grandmaster figure has earned your evident anxieties.

(Maybe it was because you’d watched him roast a guy who made a poorly timed joke about the color blue on your second day here. The smell was awful. But, it’s not like you can tell Loki that -- you just have to hope that somehow this little improv plan works and you and Loki can somehow get the hell off this floating landfill.)

“And… what’s his gig, huh, my pretty?” he’s addressing you now, lips upturned in an expectant smile, “Besides… well.. good bone structure.”

“He’s a Silvertongue, Grandmaster,” you explain slowly, hands clasped in front of you, “In more ways than one.”

Loki suddenly feels a bit like a piece of meat.

You relish in his discomfort as the Grandmaster bursts into an excited bought of laughter.

“Oh, see! This is why I love you! You’re so clever,” he chirps, waving his hands, “Your wife, Mr. Low-key, is lovely.”

“Isn’t she?” he grits.

The Grandmaster is unphased. “Quite! Now, this is good, this is very good -- I mean, it’s evident your… sexual tension is there. I can’t see why you two would lie to me, y’know? That would just be… uh… a bad idea.”

Behind him, Topaz clacks the Grandmaster’s staff on the red and white floor. You swallow thickly.

“I could never lie about my love for him, Grandmaster,” you supply, a delicate hand moving to touch Loki’s cheek. His skin is cold, “It’s simply not in my nature.”

“Nor I,” Loki says sweetly, “We make a better pair than separate, good sir, I promise you that.”

The man claps with glee.

“I love this, two lost loves reunited,” he nearly cries, “Topaz, get these two their own room, will you?”

It works.

Somehow it works.

The penthouse apartment they set you and Loki up in is big -- it’s better than the slave quarters you’ve been sleeping in for the last week. The far wall is ceiling to floor windows. Outside, Sakaar flies by; it’s the first time you’re actually getting a good look at the planetside. It’s bustling and the sun is setting between two twin moons, bathing the capital city in pinks and oranges.

“You are idiotic, bug, to propose this little plan -- had you wanted to sleep with me, you only needed to say so; lest I would.”

You recoil in a snarl. Loki is staring at the room in disdain.

“I just saved your life.”

“That colorful maniac had neither the strength nor gall --”

“Oh?” you chirp, hands flying to your hips, “Really? Sorry -- when did you get here? Ten minutes ago? Yeah, nice, cool, I’ve been here for a week and I’ve seen him toast like, five people for fun. The smell is awful.”

Loki’s mouth snaps shut.

Who in the Nine Realms are you?

“Besides,” you snarl, “I’m not doing this for you -- I’m doing this to get home.”

“And who, pray tell, said I would help you, bug?”

You, then, engage in this game of chess again -- your movements are slow and calculated and predatory and Loki has to admire your ability to dish it out. Your fingers jabs his chest once, then again.

“I did,” you seethe, “When I made sure you didn’t get easy-bake-oven’d, asshole. You owe me.”

He opens his mouth, keen on biting into your argument, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Dinner is being served, Lord and Lady Loki!”

You both save it for another time and exit the apartment holding hands.

The third time you meet Loki, you’re married.

[fanfics4all]

A Lodge Between Us: Part 4

Request: Yes / No

Request are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Archie x Lodge!Reader

Word count: 2832

Warnings: Guns and fighting 

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Summary: You’re Veronica Lodge’s little sister and are dating Archie Andrews. You’re nothing like your sister, you don’t care about the riches and you don’t follow your parent’s orders blindly. You become close with the Southside and want to stop your father but your father has gotten into Archies head and is the devil on his shoulder.

A/N: You use to sneak off to the Southside when you first moved to Riverdale and became friends with Toni but Betty and Archie found out and made you stop.

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

Part 1,  Part 2, Part 3

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Veronica and I were sitting at the dining table eating breakfast before we got ready for school when our parts walked up to us and started asked me a bunch of questions about Archie’s ‘Red Circle’ video he posted last night.

“No, I had no idea and I don’t know what he was thinking.” I said and took a sip of my tea.

“He didn't say anything to you about this video?” My mother asked.

“Am I my boyfriend's keeper?”

“Basta, mija, this isn't something you should be joking about.”

“It’s just a video mom.” Veronica said actually backing me up for once.

“Yes, threatening violence.” I sighed and looked at my dad.

“Daddy, can you please tell Mom she's overreacting?” He looked at her and she gave him a hard look.

“On this matter, Veronica, I stand with your mother.” He said.

“Which means you are done dating Archie Andrews.”

“Like hell I am!” I said standing up.

“Watch your language young lady!” My father scolded.

“Mom, I can date who I want to date. And I'm not jumping to any conclusions until I hear Archie's side of the story.” I finished and then left to go get dressed.

I put on a pair of ripped jeans, a beige polka dot sweater, some green ballet flats and grabbed my white and gold bag. For makeup and hair, I did a natural eye look, a nude lip color and put my hair in a bun.

Andre drove Veronica and I to school and once we got there I went to my locker. I put everything I didn’t need away and grabbed the books for my first few classes. Once I was done I closed my locker and looked down the hall to see a smiling Archie Andrews. I walked up to him and stopped him from walked.

“We need to talk.” I said and grabbed his arm. I pulled him into an empty classroom and shut the door.

“My parents want me to break up with you. They basically think you're the teen American Psycho.” I said leaning against one of the lab tables.

“Since when do you care about what your parents think?” Archie asked confused.

“I don’t but Archie what the hell are you doing?”

“Can't you just support me on this, Y/N/N?” He sighed.

“On what? Is this part of some master plan? 'Cause if it is, please tell me.”

“You know, to be honest, I don't see why your dad's got such a problem with it, Veronica. He pretty much gave me the idea. In his study, he basically told me I should-”

“Line up a bunch of semi-naked boys straight out of Lord of the Flies put them in red ski masks and deliver some Unabomber-like manifesto? Is that what he said you should do?” I asked cutting him off, although I wouldn’t put it past my father.

“Fight fire with fire. Fight terror with terror. That's what he said.” I looked at him and sighed.

“Mr. Archie Andrews, please report to the principal's office.” Principal Weatherbee said before I could say anything. Archie rolled his eyes but walked off to the principal’s office.

Other than the whole school buzzing about my boyfriend and his crazy video the school day was normal, well as normal as it could be. Veronica and I went home and worked on our homework. I tried to concentrate but Archie’s words kept swimming in my head. Finally, I was finished and I went to my dad’s study. I knocked on the door and entered with a smile.

“Daddy?” I asked and walked over to the chairs in front of his desk.

“When Archie came into this room…”

“Yeah.” he said looking down at his work.

“What did you guys talk about?” I asked.

“Don't remember, to be honest. Why do you ask?” He asked looking up at me and I smiled.

“I was just thinking. You know, one of the things I love about Archie is how earnest he is. Not in a bad way, more in an innocent sort of way. Trusting. Kind. Of course, that simplicity also makes him impressionable, vulnerable to certain forms of attack.”

“What are you going on about?” He asked.

“Manipulation.” I said and took a seat.

“If someone were to, say, pour poison into one of his cute ears Some dark notion might take shape in his mind. Say The Red Circle.”

“If you're suggesting-”

“I'm not suggesting anything, Daddy. I'm asking, what did you and my boyfriend talk about? And before you answer, remember which daughter you trained to manipulate people.” I said giving him a hard look.

“I've already told you I don't remember. Now, if you'll excuse me, the Swiss banks are about to close, and I have a call with the Lodge Charitable Trust.” My father said.

“Trust. Right. Got it. Have a nice call, Daddy.” I scoffed leaving the room.

I walked to Archie’s place and after my little chat with my father, I decided I needed to go see Archie. I got to Archie’s house and knocked on the door. Archie was rushing down the stairs and he opened the door to let me in.

“Hey, I was just on my way out. What's up?” He asked while putting on his jacket. Instead of answering him I gave him a kiss.

“Okay?” He asked confused but happy.

“There. That's my way of apologizing to you for raining on your Red Circle parade earlier today. I wanna support you and your comely crew, even at the risk of enraging my parents. Especially my father. Which is just what he deserves after playing mind games with you.” I growled slightly.

“Y/N/N, I really gotta go, and anyway, it's too late. The Red Circle fell apart this morning.” He said and walked to his door.

“Wait, what? It's over? Already?” I asked stopping him.

“For the other guys, yeah, but it's fine. This is my battle. No one else needs to fight it.” He said and went to leave again but I stopped him once again.

“No, no, no. If it's yours, then it's mine, too. And it can't just be you against an armed madman. No, Riverdale needs the Red Circle to expand, not contract.”

“Yeah. But the guys-”

“Are spineless cowards, clearly. Lucky for you, I'm not.” I smiled wrapping my arms around his neck and the two of us started to kiss.

“As much as I would love to keep doing this, I have to go Y/N/N.” He said pulling away.

“I should get home anyway, I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” I smiled and left his house.

The next morning I got dressed in a white t-shirt with a red target on it, purple skinny jeans, some cute brown boots, a little gold chain bracelet, and a black blazer. For hair and makeup I did a purple smokey eye with a wing, a metallic purple lipstick, and for hair, I just left it down. I got to school early to hand out the shirt I had made to surprise Archie. 

“There you are!” I said walking up to him. “I have a surprise for you. It meant burning the midnight oil and calling in a few favors, but Ta-da.” I said revealing the shirt I had on.

“Y/N/N, you can't wear that.” Archie said quietly.

“Are you saying I'm not rocking this scoop-neck look?”

“No, I'm saying you can't walk around with a friggi" target on your chest. You'll stick out like a sore thumb!” Archie said worriedly.

“Oh, Archie, it's adorable when you underestimate me. Come, come.” I said grabbing his hand and leading him to the next hallway over.

“Oh my God..” He said shocked looked at the Vixens hand out shirts to everyone.

“Let Weatherbee do his worst. The Red Circle is no longer a fringe band of radicals, it's a movement with style and panache.” I smirked.

“Y/N, this is amazing!” Archie said happily.

“Just supporting my boyfriend.” I smiled giving him a kiss.

The next day Archi and I were in science class and just about everyone was wearing the shirts I made. It was perfect. Until Principal Weatherbee walked in with Sheriff Keller.  

“Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Phylum, but Sheriff Keller and I need to see Archie Andrews in the hallway.” Archie stood up and I did as well.

“I'm sorry Principal Weatherbee but the T-shirts were my idea, not Archie's.”

“This is not about T-shirts, Miss Lodge, please sit down.” Archie looked at me and smiled a bit.

“It’s okay Y/N/N. There's nothing to worry about.” He said then left the room. He came back a few moments later grabbed his things then left once again. I looked at him confused but he just looked away.

The second school was over he texted me saying he was banned from school because they thought he was dangerous. I asked him if he wanted me to come over but he said no. So I went home with Veronica. I was sitting on my bed reading when my mom walked in.

“Nice T-shirt. Will you still be wearing it when Archie's arrested for reckless endangerment or something worse?” She asked and I rolled my eyes.

“Archie would never, Mom. He's being railroaded.” I said.

“And you can say that, with absolute certainty, after watching that video? Maybe you can. Or maybe you're just being loyal. But let me tell you something about loyalty. There's nothing more honorable than it. Noble, even. But blind loyalty? That's a stupid and dangerous thing. I pray that's not the case with you and Archie.” She said and sat on my bed.

“If anyone is being blindly loyal mom, it’s you.” She looked at me shocked but didn’t say anything, she just left my room.

I finished what I needed to finish reading for school and then started working on other homework. I must have fallen asleep because I was woken up by my phone’s annoying ringing. I looked at the screen and saw it was Archie.

“Archie? What the hell is going on? Are you okay?” I answered worried.

“I need you to get something for me, Y/N/N.” He said.

“What?”

“It’s in the school, boys bathroom inside the toilet in the third stall.”

“What is?”

“Can you get it for me?” He asked ignoring my question.

“Okay, fine.” I said and we hung up. I grabbed my coat and headed to the school. I went to where he told me and lifted the back of the toilet cover. I sighed and put my head in pulling out whatever he put there. I looked down and saw it was a gun in a plastic bag! I put the top back on and rushed to Archie’s house. He let me in and I stormed into the living room and he sat on the couch.

“At least you were smart enough not to keep it in your locker, but a gun, Archie? Why? For what?” I asked standing in front of him.

“To protect myself.”

“Against the Black Hood? Archie, that video, the gun If I'm following you, I need to know where, I need to know the truth.” I begged him.

“I want him dead, Y/N!” He shouted standing up.

“I want the Black Hood dead, and I want to be the one who does it. I want to be the last thing that he sees.”

“Spoken like a true vigilante.” I said a little scared.

“No, you wanted the truth. I made that video and showed my face so the Black Hood would make me his next target. I went to the Southside hoping he would come after me.”

“So you find the Black Hood and you shoot him and then what? You go to jail or you miss him, and he kills you, Archie.”

“It doesn't matter what happens to me.”

“Yes, it does. It matters to me, and your dad, Betty, Jughead. Meanwhile, like an idiot, I'm trying to support you by designing T-shirts.”

“I didn't ask you to do that.”

“No, you just asked me to fetch your loaded gun. And by the way, in case you're wondering where it is, I threw it in Sweetwater River.” I said.

“What?” He asked looking up at me.

“And you can be mad at me now, but you'll thank me for it later.” I said annoyed. There was a knock on the door and I went to go answer it.

“Wait!” Archie said trying to stop me.

“Y/N wait! what if it's-”

“Reggie?” I asked confused and looked at Archie.

“Can we come in?” He asked holding a stack of pizzas then walked in with the other Bulldogs. We followed them to the living room and I sat in one of the chairs.

“To what do we owe this unexpected honor?” I asked sarcastically.

“Archie could have told Weatherbee the hood was mine, but he didn't. In the Book of Reg, that makes you a top-tier loyal badass. And, uh. We were talkin' today and decided if you wanna keep the Red Circle going We're here for you, dude.” Reggie said. There was a noise outside and I got up to check what is was. I looked out the door and saw some Serpents walking up the steps.

“And not a moment too soon.” I said looking at the boys. They got up and Archie opened the door.

“How stupid are you Northsiders? You really think you can come to my house, stick a gun in my face in front of my boys, and there wouldn't be any payback?” The tall Serpent said, I think his name is Sweet Pea? I remember talking to him a bit when I use to sneak off to the Southside. He’s friends Toni I’m pretty sure.

“You have crap timing, bro. Bulldogs eat Serpents for lunch.” Reggie said and the Serpent just smirked.

“We'll see about that. And the more, the merrier.” He said and Reggie went to attack him but Archie stopped him.

“Y/N stay here.”

“Archie no.”

“Y/N, after my dad, I made a promise to protect him and this house. You stay here.” He said and turned back around.

“If you wanna fight, we'll fight.” He said.

“What about your gun?”

“What about your knife?”

“How about no weapons? If you insist on doing this, there are gonna be rules. Or should I call Sheriff Keller to be referee?” I asked pushing my way next to Archie.

“Hey Y/N, you’re the chick that use to hang out with Toni.” The Serpent said and everyone looked at me. Archie grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him.

“Stay here.” He said again and they all left.

I paced around Archie’s living room panicking slightly about what could be happening to Archie. I couldn’t take it anymore so I grabbed my coat and bag then left. I ran as fast as I could to the bridge they were going to. When I got there they were beating each other to a bloody mess! I could tell both sides were going to fight to the death. I pulled the gun out of my purse and shot in straight in the air. Everyone looked at me and the Serpents ran off. Archie and I went back to his place so I could patch him up. I grabbed the med kit and went to his room. I was cleaning a cut and Archie hissed in pain.

“Sorry.” I said and grabbed a band-aid.

“No. I deserve it. Tonight was really messed up, Ronnie. Things got so out of control.” He sighed.

“At least Dilton's going to be okay.” I said, he stabbed himself like an idiot.

“Yeah, but only because of you. You saved him, Y/N/N. And me.” I place the bandage in his stomach and smiled.

“These are fraught times, Archie. No one's thinking straight. We have to hold on to each other. Right? I'm sorry I lied about getting rid of the gun. I was freaking out.” I said quietly.

“God, Y/N/N, if I'd had it tonight I don't wanna think about it, honestly, I might've...”

“But you didn't. And I don't believe you would've. Even if you'd had it. You're not a killer.” I whispered wrapping my arms around his neck. We kissed and I climbed on top of him. We started backing out and I pushed him to his back. We were making out but I stopped him, pulling back and sitting up.

“We have one more thing we need to do tonight.” I got off him grabbing my coat while Archie put a shirt on. He grabbed the gun and put it in his jacket pocket. The two of us left Archie’s house and went to Sweetwater River. Archie threw the gun in and then walked me home.

Tag list: @jojokoko0717 @lilaqueenquinn @lonelydoode @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @cuddlememerrick @blueandgoldaus @southsidefandoms @emo-godess-loves-you @hiya-imthatgirl @answer-the-sirens @mindsetjupiter @nixdunbarhale @nixdunbarhale2

[vera-invenire]

VnC Liveblog - Chapter 7

.All chapter liveblogs are linked HERE.

Hey, note for people following along: the last two chapters (5 and 6) didn’t show up on the main Vanitas no Carte tags because Tumblr filters out any posts that have outside links in them. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But they’re done and the links for them are right up there. ^

Now, on to chapter 7!

Methinks MochiJun is running out of art for the chapter covers. That’s okay, I like this guy’s face.

OH MY GOD ARE WE GETTING WORLDBUILDING I AM EXCITED

So. Paracelsus. Famed physician and alchemist, called the Luther of medicine. He’s got a wikipedia page that I’m not gonna link to here *shakes tiny fist at tumblr* but probably the most interesting thing about him (if not the most important, in this context) is that ‘Paracelsus’ was his pen name. His real name?

Theophrastus von Hohenheim. Yeah. That von Hohenheim. Or at least the original one he was named after.

More pertinent, I think, is the fact that Paracelsus was a doctor, like our main character. He had a reputation for disdaining conventional medical thought (as this was the 1500s, this was not unwarranted) and for prioritizing practical experience over unproven theories preached by people with silly titles. Going by Vanitas’ fight with Orlok, I think he would have liked Paracelsus.

With Paracelsus involved, we now have a timeline for Babel -- it occurred sometime during the first half of the 1500s, creating vampires, astermite, the border, and, apparently, a number of disasters.

(the sudden appearance of vampires among the human population might have been disastrous enough, but I wonder if there were other things that were thrown out of wack.)

I don’t...quite get this formula business yet, so I’m gonna wait to comment on that until it’s more clear.

Nice job breaking it, Hohenheim.

This is like the tenth time the church has been mentioned, when are they gonna show up?

Hello, Creepy Teacher. Still without eyes, I see.

But not all coal and not all humans were altered.

And what is that on Teacher’s lapel, a clock with wings --

...time flies. You think you’re clever, don’t you.

...he’s planning on using Noé, the last Archiviste. Noé is key to something. What are you planning, Creepy Teacher.

Memoire 7 Bal Masque

Night of Sneering Masks

Lord Ruthven has a real swanky place, don’t he.

On the one hand, I want to go to a ball like this. On the other, it is full of vampires. Who, admittedly, seem like fairly decent people on average -- when they’re not losing their minds and going on murderous rampages.

Kinda looks like the Charlatan parade, though, no?

Hm, Domi is a bit shorter than Noé than I thought she was.

...wait, wait, wait, hold up. let’s zoom in here.

that’s Domi??? that looks like Unnerving Boy. crap, is she Unnerving Boy? i was joking about that before.

Glad I’m not the only one making that connection. The narrative wants this decadence to remind us of Charlatan. re: we shouldn’t trust it.

Domi: That guy’s gonna keep a low profile, right?

Vanitas: *seducing ALL the ladies at the ball*

Y’all knew he was an unrepentant grandstander. What did you expect.

(note: Vanitas knows sleight of hand)

(note: vampires can smell humans)

Hahahahaha, “I don’t understand how vampires define ‘friend’“ is my new favorite line, right along with “several different kinds of unfortunate”.

So my question is, can he only see the memories while he’s drinking? Or can he revisit them whenever he wants?

Vanitas adapted to the usefulness of that collar real quick.

I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN, I KNEW THAT DUM-DUM WOULD LEAVE THESE TWO ALONE AND SHIT WOULD HIT THE FAN

this is gonna be good

So spoketh Dominique de Sade. Never has a character been more aptly named.

(yo, is that Ada’s iron maiden. and a tortured stuffed white rabbit in the corner, too. the spirit of Vincent is alive and well.)

Meanwhile...Noé has found a new toy.

precious cinnamon roll, too pure, etc etc

ohoho, I think we know this kid.

HI, LUCA. And Jeanne can’t be that far away.

These guys are bodyguards, or retainers? Dressed like plague doctors, nice touch.

Luca (Lucius?), this is the man who held you hostage, why you lying.

Uh-oh. Something is clearly wrong with Jeanne.

...you might even say, she should probably see a doctor. *baddum-ting* (I think she’d prefer to die of consumption)

But it seems to be something she’s suffered from before? Is it her breathing or her throat?

Likely the same sister who lent Domi the collar and chain. Sister has interesting hobbies.

“I was all excited!” Yeah, this game is gonna be called Ha Ha, Surprise, I’m Kinkier Than You.

Point, Vanitas.

But Domi rallies nicely.

This is where we start getting real; Domi doesn’t fuck around when it comes to Noé. But does she really need to threaten to carve out Vanitas’ eye with a knife??

...throw more knives at him, Domi.

This is why you need to learn to keep your mouth shut, Vanitas. (also check the misogyny, I don’t want you to turn into Vincent, please)

She brings up some very good points.

Ooo, and it looks like something she said hit home. ...or one of the knives stabbed him. Nah, the black border means a brief flashback of some kind.

...Vanitas hates the Vampire of the Blue Moon. Well, well.

So why did he take his name?? And his Book???

(omg, did he steal the Book)

He’s cracked. He’s gonna do something stupid and/or reckless.

HE’S GONNA THROW HIMSELF BACKWARD OFF THE BALCONY. 

Well, he did say he was gonna get their attention.

(”you’re worried about Vanitas? you should be worried about me.” “no, wait, i mean, i’m here to save vampires. yes. out of the goodness of my bitter heart.”)

The chandelier’s made of bones, it’s a vampire ball, why wouldn’t it be.

Poor Domi’s like, ‘crap, I pushed the punk too far.’

The cajones on this kid.

Like, seriously, isn’t he supposed to be hiding the fact that he’s human...?

This is revenge for always wandering off and disappearing, Noé.

The gloves are coming off again and this time it’s not a bluff.

Holy crap, that’s a lot more extensive than I thought it’d be. Looks a lot like the moon and spider-webbed sky above Altus Paris, doesn’t it? And this mark is lower on his arm than we saw earlier.

Actually, let’s go back and compare. This is from chapter 4 --

So in chapter 4, we saw marks on his left arm. But...is it the same kind of mark? And how many marks does he have?

Branding is something you do to livestock.

The eyes look like the moon look like the brand. (ha, how much you want to bet the moon over Altus Paris is red and Vanitas’ mark is blue)

And the hourglass is front and center once again. He wears that thing for a reason and that reason is connected to the Vampire of the Blue Moon.

So was he really granted some kind of power, or is this another bluff? Then again, the power could be the ability to use the Book.

I’m starting to think the Vampire of the Blue Moon isn’t the only one who hates vampires...

(”fighting monsters is best left to other monsters”)

I would not trust a doctor who looked at me with a face like that, i’m just saying

And now this crusade to save the vampires makes much more sense.

In doing this, not only will Vanitas get the pleasure of having the vampires he’s curing at his mercy, but with each vampire he saves he sticks it to the Vampire of the Blue Moon.

This was never a charitable cause. This is a fuck you to the entire world, the original Vanitas in particular.

Everyone: “oh shit, this guy’s even crazier than we thought.”

Did he...not mean to say that part out loud...? Or did he see something in the crowd?

Guess we find out next chapter! Which is -- HERE.

[lapsa-lapsa]

Rob James-Collier: Oh, You Handsome Devil!

As Downton Abbey's hot gay villain, Rob James-Collier finds love -- and redemption.

BY

AARON HICKLIN

THU, 2013-01-03 09:04

Photography by David Bailey

Styling by Julian Ganio

Last March, when The New Yorker’s Ian Crouch declared an “epidemic of Downton Abbey fever,” he wasn’t wrong. The show has been nothing short of a phenomenon, a runaway success for dowdy old PBS, far outpacing in ratings that other popular period drama, Mad Men. It’s a classic tale of love and fortune with a fundamental mystery at its core, namely: How can something this schlocky be this good? Maybe it has something to do with its formula, equal parts high class to high camp (yes, Dame Maggie Smith, we’re looking at you); or its bucolic English setting; or, more likely, its blatant appeal to our closeted hankering for a butler fully versed in the art of decanting vintage port. After all is said and done, who has not wished that they, too, could be in the position to declare, like the Dowager Countess with her imperious mix of disdain and perplexity, “What is a week-end?”

Indeed, what is a weekend without Downton Abbey to cozy up with on Sunday nights? And here it is, back again to keep winter from the door—season 3, and with it the Roaring Twenties to blow away the agony of war and the insult of rationing. Expect flappers and the Charleston, and a Marcel wave or two.

Let me come clean: I haven’t seen a preview of season 3 -- in my home that would be cheating; it’s what we still call appointment TV -- but I have it on great authority that this is the season in which that villainous gay footman-turned-valet, Thomas Barrow, experiences the tender love that his poor, neglected heart so craves and needs. It’s about time. His dalliance with the Duke of Crowborough in the opening episode of season 1 turned out to be a tease. He ended season 2 in the arms of the Dowager Countess, twirling around the dance floor at the Christmas party like a neuter content to spend his prime escorting ladies of a certain age to the ball.

We should have known that creator and writer Julian Fellowes would not disappoint. Season 3 is where it all changes for young Thomas. And for us, too. Although there clearly were gay men in Edwardian England, they’ve been in scant supply on television. There was, of course, Sebastian and Charles in Brideshead Revisited, whose “naughtiness [was] high on the catalogue of grave sins,” as Evelyn Waugh wrote, but they merely hinted at what happened when the lights were off. Thomas promises to go somewhat further. It’s what makes Downton Abbey feel, well, modern.

No one, of course, is more excited by this turn of events than Rob James-Collier, the actor who secured the role of Thomas with the understanding that it was a one-season deal. “My agent said, ‘Listen, you’ve got the part that everyone in town wants—he’s a villain, he’s a great role, the only bad thing is that he dies at the end of the first series,’ ” recalls James-Collier. But Thomas clicked with the audience, and his on-screen chemistry with his maid counterpart, O’Brien (a wonderfully surly Siobhan Finneran), was irresistible. “I gave it 110 percent, and after the first couple of episodes, Liz, the producer, came to me and said, ‘We want you to stay on. Will you?’ And I was, like, ‘Fuck, yeah.’ ”

We are in Bloomsbury, London, sitting in a tiny French patisserie hardly big enough to contain James-Collier’s boundless energy. When he walks in, he immediately begins by quoting lines from articles of mine that he’s found online. It’s discombobulating. Research is my job. At another point, he puts me on the phone with a friend summoned to serve as a character reference. I feel like a luckless audience member at a comedy show, plucked from the front row as a volunteer for a gag. When I accidentally insert a “Smith” into his surname (it’s that damn hyphenate), he is gleeful as hell. “Aaron has got my name wrong, and he’s now floundering, trying to think of it,” he dictates into my recorder.

That double-barreled name, incidentally, was not his choice. He grew up in Salford, near Manchester, as plain Rob Collier, and might have stayed that way had actors union Equity not intervened to avoid confusion with another Rob Collier. “I said, ‘Can I have Rob James Collier, and they said, ‘Yeah, if you hyphenate it,’ and I said, ‘Well, can I have Rob-James Collier?’ and they said -- and this is true -- ‘No, you have to hyphenate the James and the Collier.’ ” He wasn’t happy. In England, hyphenated surnames are for posh people. “I was, like, ‘That sounds like someone from the aristocracy, as if I’m being somebody I’m not.’ But they insisted,” he recalls ruefully. In Britain, still today, there’s little more disreputable than the man or woman who puts on the airs and graces of the upper class.

I went to school with boys like James-Collier. You probably did, too. They are the entertainers and comedians, who laugh at their own pratfalls. What they lack in confidence they make up for in banter. It’s no surprise to hear that James-Collier is the joker on set, and the one with the loudest mouth. “Most actors are really shy and insular creatures,” he explains. “I’ve just always been a dick.” He remembers his first day at acting class (he found it by consulting the Yellow Pages), and realizing that he’d liberated himself. “We were doing these warm-up exercises, running around doing crazy things with our voices, and, rather than feeling stupid, I just felt that I’d come home,” he says. He was working as a marketing assistant at the time, “listening to Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon -- great album, bad album to listen to if you’re in a rut, ticking away the hours that make up a dull day.” Watching Ricky Gervais’s masterwork, The Office, compounded his sense of futility. “It was my office,” he says. “I thought, I can’t do this for the rest of my life, surely?”

Oddly, that is the same dilemma facing Thomas Barrow, shackled to servitude as a footman at Downton Abbey, always looking for an opportunity to elevate his station in life -- and failing. His pitiful efforts to establish a black market in rationed goods during season 2 spoke volumes about the limitations confronting Britain’s working class in the Edwardian era. It’s moments like those that save Downton Abbey from being merely an exercise in sumptuous costume porn.

If you grew up in Britain, as I did, the world of Downton Abbey is a familiar one, conjured in an endless parade of finely wrought television shows, which we send across the oceans like telegraphs from our gilded past. Some of them, like 1981’s 11-hour miniseries, Brideshead Revisited, which introduced Jeremy Irons to the world, or 1995’s six-episode serialization of Pride and Prejudice, which did the same for Colin Firth, strike gold. Few, however, receive quite the rapturous reception of Downton Abbey. The reason, perhaps, is fairly simple: Although Downton wears the clothes (and production values) of quality drama, it has the soul of a soap opera. As my boyfriend likes to say, it’s very efficient, meaning that things happen at lightning speed. Resolutions come thick and swift, which is all part of the pleasure.

Fellowes himself takes credit for modernizing the format by borrowing his style from U.S. shows like The West Wing, but it’s also that the concerns of the show are discernibly our concerns, albeit in Edwardian costume. For James-Collier, “Downton Abbey is a workplace like any other. You’re going to get cliques of people who don’t like each other -- Thomas and O’Brien versus Bates and Anna -- and you’re going to get people who really love doing their jobs and people who are bitter and feel they’re just a number. It’s about relationships in the workplace environment, and people can identify with that because the same problems and political conflicts you have in work today were relevant back then.”

Coincidentally or otherwise, almost all the actors who play servants in Downton Abbey got their start in English soap operas -- gritty exercises in social realism, fully rooted in working-class culture. The oldest of those shows, Coronation Street -- set in Manchester -- has run continuously for 52 years, and nurtured generations of acting talent. James-Collier arrived on the series in 2006, as  “loveable rogue” Liam Connor, and stayed for two years before deciding he wanted to take on a different kind of challenge.

“It’s a great, brilliant show, but you have to make a decision,” he says. “I’m not knocking anyone for going that way [of soap operas] -- you can get security, and God knows we need that, but I think you’re limited then in terms of your options as an actor.” After Coronation Street, he was out of work for 15 months, waiting for the right thing to come along. “I watched people who had left these kinds of shows and had seen what happened,” he says. “So I knew you had to literally put the shutters down and just pray and hope that something would come along, and when the wolves were near the door, Downton Abbey came.”

James-Collier has joked that his character’s sexuality became so muted in season 2 that he called up Fellowes and asked, “Am I still gay?” Yes, it turns out. In season 3, we get to see Thomas outed in a powerful sequence of episodes that James-Collier considers the best acting of his career. “It’s the series where we really comes to grips with Thomas’s sexuality and the impact being gay must have had on him, in Edwardian times,” he says. “If you’re including a gay character, there’s an onus and responsibility to at least show what the impact of the time will be on him, and of him on that time. Thankfully we’ve done that, and I’m so proud that I’ve been used to tell that tale.”

A confrontation between Thomas and the butler, Mr. Carson, proves to be a high point, and one that confers uncommon dignity on the footman. “It’s a lovely, beautiful moment,” says James-Collier, clearly delighted by the opportunity to redeem his character. “If you were gay in those times, the fact that you’re even functioning, how you’re not completely fucked up by that, is beyond me.”

Although not gay in real life, he says he has empathy for misfits and outsiders, perhaps because of his own atypical route to acting. Even now it’s clear that he can’t quite believe that he’s earned his place as an actor. He recalls sitting opposite Maggie Smith during the first read-through (“a proper pinch-yourself moment”) and feeling that everything out of his mouth sounded like wooden splinters. It can’t be easy playing the least lovable character on the show. When she arrived on set, guest star Shirley MacLaine greeted him with the words, “It’s you -- the evil one! Why are you so evil?” The answers, apparently, are all in season 3. “With O’Brien and Thomas, you’ve got these two forces, and it’s a kind of paradox -- they work for this great house that keeps them off the streets and from starving, and yet they absolutely despise the system they’re in, because there’s no other option,” he says. “In a weird way Thomas wants to bring down the system, but if he did he’d be putting himself out of a job and a home.”

As he was talking, I remembered something: My own grandmother, now 92, had started her working life “in service” as they say, at the age of 14, still a child herself. That would have been in the 1930s -- the same era as Julian Fellowes other big country–house hit, Gosford Park, for which he won a best original screenplay Oscar in 2002. At the time my grandmother went into service, her father was ill and her mother was struggling to hold things together. “It was an awful wrench to leave my sisters and brothers at home, but it was one less pair of shoes under the table,” she explains when I ask about her experiences. My grandmother, a country girl, didn’t work in the big house (as one of her sisters did), but for a doctor’s family, where she was excruciatingly lonely.

“I think that’s the reason I got married so young -- to get out of it,” she says. “I did all the cooking and all the cleaning, and had one half day off a week, and a whole day off once a month.”

“No weekends, then?” I ask.

“Oh, there were no weekends,” she says, conjuring Maggie Smith’s glorious bafflement in season 1. It is to Downton Abbey’s credit that this stark double meaning isn’t entirely lost on the audience, or that the disparity between those upstairs and those downstairs isn’t varnished into oblivion. It’s left to us to imagine how people of O’Brien’s resourcefulness or Thomas’s ambition would fare in our own age, but one thing’s certain—they wouldn’t be spending their weekends polishing the silver.

https://www.out.com/entertainment/television/2013/01/03/rob-james-collier-downton-abbey

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #186 - The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement

Spoilers Below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: I think so.

Do I remember it: Better than I did the 1st one, which isn’t saying much.

Did I see it in theaters: No

Format: Blu-ray

I nominated the recap for the first Princess Diaries to @princessofsunnydale because she nominated it for my (Re)Watch so I thought I’d do the same for this post. Thanks!

1) I think it was a wildly smart decision to move the setting of this film from San Francisco to Mia’s often spoke of but rarely seen dominion of Genovia. It’s an organic next step to her story. We saw her learn how to be a princess in San Fran, now we see how she actually adapts to her home country (which is a lively character in its own right). The decision to jump ahead five years ahead instead of three (the number of years between releases) I think also is nice. Mia is more comfortable in the agency she gained in the first film, the relationship with her beau Michael is not hanging over her head, it just allows the film to not be dogged down by some plot points from the first film.

2) Sir Fat Louie? Did they knight him? Can you knight a cat?

3) I didn’t remember this line before I put in the movie but I do now.

4) Shonda Rhimes co-authored the story AND wrote the screenplay? Huh.

(I don’t actually watch any Shonda Rhimes shows, now that I think about it.)

5) Chris Pine as Nicholas.

There is a strong initial chemistry Pine has with lead actress Hathaway, allowing the audience to grow invested in their relationship quickly. Even/especially when they’re not getting long, you can just fell the sexual chemistry in the air between them. It’s fun, making the film stronger because of it.

Chris Pine on his own is as charismatic and interesting as ever. In lesser hands the character of Nicholas could be an even bigger jerk and while there are antagonistic qualities to him the audience UNDERSTANDS his motivations. He is trying to honor what he believes his dead father wanted, he believes he’s trying to do what’s best for Genovia. And when he sees he was mistaken, he tries to step aside. There’s a nice honesty to Pine’s performance. He doesn’t play Nicholas as an over the top mustache twirling villain. All in all, Pine does a fine job in this film and helps support it.

6) Except for one black guy, Genovia’s parliament is made up of all white guys saying they don’t want a woman to rule unless she has a man by her side.

I think Queen Clarisse has the perfect response to that.

The law is severely sexist and antiquated. One of the members of parliament claims it should be respected because it is 300 years old. Saying a law is that old is not an effective argument for it as much as it is AGAINST it. 300 years ago in 2004 that’s 1704. That’s slavery, that’s a fundamental lack of women’s rights across most countries. Don’t use the fact a law is old to argue for it. Laws should evolve as the world does.

7) John Rhys Davies is a wonderful character actor who plays Nicholas’ uncle as a holier than thou elitist arrogant jerk. I love to hate him in this, but I might need to watch Lord of the Rings or Raiders of the Lost Ark next to balance out my feelings.

8) Hey guys. Remember that time Catwoman stomped on Captain Kirk’s foot in front of Gimli and Mary Poppins?

I’m sure someone has made this joke before, but still.

9) The last film was largely about Clarisse putting her duty as queen aside to be Mia’s grandmother, a relationship which is as strong in this film as ever.

Clarisse [after Mia stomped on Nicholas’ foot]: “As a grandma I say right on.”

10) Like the first film, this movie’s biggest flaw is definitely pacing. Many scenes serve no purpose for the larger plot and instead distract from the main conflict. But - like with the first film - these scenes are also some of the most memorable. So…I’m not sure what to say then. I’m just going to move on.

11) I dig this.

Matarazzo is a continued treat in this film as she was in the first, stealing a number of scenes and infusing some quality humor into the plot. The way she mixes with Genovian life and culture can lead to some nice fish out of water observations, and Matarazzo plays the role with as much commitment and heart as she did in the first film. God bless Lily.

12) The bachelor selection scene is - by far - one of my favorite moments in the film. It is directly related to the plot and has an incredible amount of humor to it. Also, it’s not nearly as long as I remember.

For those of you who didn’t watch the clip above (or even if you did), here is my favorite moment from the scene.

(GIFs originally posted by @ezrajamessharkington​)

I mean it’s small, but I appreciate that both this film and its predecessor acknowledge the LGBTQIA+ community more than other Disney films did at the time.

13) Callum Blue as Andrew Jacoby.

Much like Michael from the first film, Andrew is able to be a good guy while avoiding the trope of Nice Guy™. There is a respect he has for Mia, an understanding and a fondness. They clearly have a connection and appreciate each other’s company, but it is clear that neither of them love each other. And Andrew does not force this on Mia. He’s pretty much at her service, ready to respect her wishes without being a total pushover. He’s a good guy, someone who could have easily been a jerk or a bully but the fact Mia could plausibly end up with him just ups the stakes.

14) The fan scene is a nice moment of chemistry between Hathaway and Andrews, which (much like in the preceding film) is one of the strongest elements of this movie.

this film one of those moments is when she is reduced to tears because John Rhys Davies spooked her horse and revealed that - SHOCKER - women actually prefer to not ride side saddle. I suppose it’s better that she’s too hard on herself than not hard enough though, as she will be queen.

16) Damn, Joe is a badass.

Mabrey: “Sir, you will find that the word ‘fear’ is not in my vocabulary.”

Joe: “Perhaps. But it’s in your eyes.”

17) Hey look! The foot pop!

18) Okay, Nicholas is being creepy with Mia at the fountain. Yes, they kiss. But then she says no to him. Multiple times, too. Yet he keeps groping at her and chasing her around the fountain until they both fall in. And MIA’S in trouble?

19) The parade.

By far the strongest moment in the film. It shows off not only the agency Mia gained in the first film (she has the confidence to stop a parade), but also her incredible heart. She shows off such kindness and care for the people of Genovia, accepts her role as a leader, and is able to create a positive change through the sheer depth of her heart. Also, little Abigail Breslin is very cute.

20) Holy crap, Paul Williams is in this movie.

What is this movie?

21) The bridal slumber party is another scene which doesn’t really add to the plot and it goes a little long. BUT - again - it is wildly memorable. Especially seeing Julie Andrews surf on a mattress after giving a wink to her most iconic character.

22) Julie Andrews’ song.

Julie Andrews underwent surgery in 1997 to treat what she referred to as a muscular striation on her vocal cords. She emerged from the surgery with permanent damage that hurt her singing voice and gave a rasp to her speaking voice (for which she sued the hospital for malpractice two years later). Julie Andrews basically lost her singing voice. Her song “Your Crowning Glory” was the first time she sang on screen since the surgery. Although it was set in a limited range to accommodate her voice, she was reported to have nailed it on the first take and brought tears to the eyes of crew members on set. Raven Symoné - who duets with Andrews on the song - was so moved when she told she’d be singing with the legend that she too was reportedly brought to tears. If for no other reason, I am grateful this movie exists for all of that.

23) Nicholas is very ready to step aside and let Mia rule.

Nicholas [after his uncle notes all their work would be for nothing]: “It wouldn’t be nothing. Genovia would in good hands.”

I love that. I love that he’s true to his beliefs about doing what’s right for Genovia, NOT himself.

24) So there’s a slight bit of foreshadowing here.

Nicholas [at Mia’s window]: “Rapunzel, Rapunzel…”

Chris Pine would later go on to play Cinderella’s Prince in the 2014 film adaptation of Into the Woods, which also featured the characters of Rapunzel and her prince.

25) I’m surprised Paolo’s back. I mean, Larry Miller is great. But didn’t he totally betray the trust of the royal family in the first film? And also, why is he suddenly kinda bad at styling Mia?

26) Bless whoever made this

(I just found this on google. If this is your’s and you want credit let me know and I’ll be happy to give it.)

27) Um, guys…

What the heck is Stan Lee doing in The Princess Diaries 2? Is Mia going to join The Avengers? Is Genovia a part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe? What is happening!?

All humor aside, as I understand it Stan Lee will cameo in any movie asked as long as he gets his standard fee. I think he wants to have the record for most cameos ever.

28) I dig it, Andrew.

Andrew [after Mia calls off the wedding]: “Uh…thank you. Thank you for saving me from doing the proper thing for once in my life.”

29) Much like the first film, it is Mia who must take her own fate in her hands. She’s the one who argues against the marriage law, she’s the one who convinces the people and parliament to strike it down (although the Prime Minister is again incredibly supportive and I love that). It’s her taking charge of her life, which I think is absolutely great.

30) I 100% forgot that part of this film ended with Clarisse and Joe getting married. I am very okay with that.

31) OH MY GOD YES! PARLIAMENT IS MORE DIVERSE AT THE END! THERE ARE SO MANY WOMEN AND EVEN WOMEN OF COLOR AND IT’S JUST BEAUTIFUL AND DIVERSE AND I NEED MORE OF IT! THANK YOU!

Like the first film, The Princess Diaries 2 held up surprisingly better than I was expecting. Obviously it’s aimed at a younger audience than me but it was pretty enjoyable. Anne Hathaway is strong as ever, as is Julie Andrews, while Chris Pine is a welcome and fitting addition to the cast. The themes are nicely feminist as is the ending. Overall I just find it an enjoyable film worth the watch.

[popliar]

quick thoughts on the bts spotify mixtapes - part ii

Previously on BTS mixtapes… 

And here I am back again with some more nonsense thoughts on the updated BTS Spotify playlists.

Jungkook showing character development, yeahhh. This is still the softest playlist of the lot and personally it's not what I'm into, but compare it to his previous (not bad, but overlong and samey-sounding) one - look at this growth, look at this near-adherence to the form, look at how far he's come! This self-improvement meta-narrative is very JK and I'm into it. Also way to go including your new bros Khalid and Marshmello.

Jungkook: I am Listening to It Right Now [M] Sunburn - DROELOE - Sunburn Leaving - Illenium - Awake Beautiful Creatures (feat. MAX) - Illenium, MAX - Awake Bedroom Floor - Liam Payne - Bedroom Floor do re mi - blackbear - digital druglord I Miss You (feat. Julia Michaels) - Clean Bandit, Julia Michaels - I Miss You (feat. Julia Michaels) New - Daya - New Silence - Marshmello, Khalid - Silence Crime (with Skott) - Grey, Skott - Chameleon Wolves - Selena Gomez, Marshmello - Wolves

Jin’s is once again the most middle of the road. I think it's too harsh to say it's actually bad - yeah there's some meh, but there’s some great songs on here. Like I'd probably put Humble on my own playlist for 2017, despite it being too obvious, because sometimes the obvious is just the right thing, you know? The problem is there’s too much of that - I can't endorse this because it's all so safe. And for goodness' sake, Black Skinhead and Rap God were on his PREVIOUS playlist too, that's not on bro! (Gotta respect the perfectly in-character self-promo tho. You do you, bb!)

Jin's GA CHI DEUL EUL LAE? [I] Best of Me - BTS - Love Yourself: Her Work Hard, Play Hard - Wiz Khalifa - O.N.I.F.C. Black Skinhead - Kanye West - Yeezus Rap God - Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP2 HUMBLE. - Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. Mercy - Shawn Mendes - Illuminate (Deluxe) 7 Years - Lukas Graham - Lukas Graham Strip That Down - Liam Payne, Quavo - Strip That Down Bad and Boujee (feat. Lil Uzi Vert) - Migos, Lil Uzi Vert - Culture Chandelier - Sia - 1000 Forms of Fear

Jimin - Oh my god Jimin what are you -- How are you -- Why???? Last time you were fine and this time it's like????? IDK????? [speechless for several minutes] If this reminds me of anything, it's the quote from Catch-22 about the man named Major who could've named his child Drum Major, Minor Major, Sergeant Major, or C Sharp Major, but instead went for Major Major Major. Well I think Jimin went full Major Major Major and I'm weeping.

Jimin’s Joah? JOAH! [C] Save Me - BTS - The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Young Forever Not Today - BTS - You Never Walk Alone No Limit - Usher, Young Thug - Hard II Love I Need A Girl - Trey Songz - Ready (international) Best of Me - BTS - Love Yourself: Her I Don't Wanna Life Forever (Fifty Shades Darker) - Zayn, Taylor Swift - Fifty Shades Darker Say It - Tory Lanez - I Told You Outro: Her - BTS - Love Yourself: Her Intro: Serendipity - BTS - Love Yourself: Her Young - The Chainsmokers - Memories...Do Not Open

Suga - After the disaster of Jimin's, I nearly cried with relief. A very solid playlist! Rap fan Yoongi COMING THRU AGAIN with something focused, succinct, and on theme. An enjoyable mixtape, would hit repeat. (Do you think Hobi was mad he sniped Gucci Gang?) (Do you think Namjoon was mad he sniped Havana?)

Suga's Hip-Hop Replay [D] goosebumps - Travis Scott - Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight Havana - Camila Cabello, Young Thug - Havana Diego - Tory Lanez - Diego Gucci Gang - Lil Pump - Lil Pump rockstar - Post Malone, 21 Savage - rockstar Unforgettable - French Montana, Swae Lee - Jungle Rules The Don - Nas - Life is Good Ali Bomaye - The Game, 2 Chainz, Rick Ross - Jesus Piece What You Know - T.I. - King

RM - NAMJOOOOOOON wow wow wow. This is it. This is #peak mixtape. Look at this handsome nerd's great taste! This is eclectic and personal and it WORKS. His first mixtape was good but this is BETTER, tighter and more focused while not losing his individuality. I like the inclusion of Kendrick's DNA which is both entirely in keeping with his hiphop tastes but also works like a little inside joke; I'm very into the 2Pac and Eminem, both songs I loved so much when I was younger; and I'm emotional about Dead! Also the inclusion of MCR and Lil Peep make me think that I'm not imagining the emo/post-punk influence on "Sea" and I'm into it. tl;dr I love this mixtape and I love RM.

RM's Heavy Rotations [R] Ghostface Killers - 21 Savage, Offset, Metro Boomin, Travis Scott - Without Warning No No No - GASHI - No No No Havana - Camila Cabello, Young Thug - Havana Dead! - My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade Lose Yourself - Eminem - Curtain Call September - Earth, Wind & Fire - The Eternal Dance DNA. - Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. Awful Things - Lil Peep, Lil Tracy - Come Over When You're Sober, Pt. 1 Stay (with Alessia Cara) - Zedd, Alessia Cara - Stay California Love - 2Pac, Roger, Dr Dre - 2Pac Greatest Hits

J-Hope - Ooh, this feels very Jay-Hope! Quality-wise this feels on par with Yoongi's, and like Yoongi's I'd say it's a bit less personal and more consciously thematic. I kinda miss the quirkiness of his previous playlist, but this is a good mix anyway and I'd play this at your summer party. (If this is a pointer towards what hixxtape will sound like then… I'm ready.)

J-Hope's JAM [O] Drop It Like It's Hot - Snoop Dogg, Pharrell Williams - R&G (Rhythm & Gangsta): The Masterpiece Gucci Gang - Lil Pump - Lil Pump B Boy (feat. Big Sean & A$AP Ferg) - Meek Mill, Big Sean, A$AP Ferg - Dream Chaser 4 GUMMY - BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION II Energy - Drake - If You're Reading This It's Too Late Kokamoe Freestyle - GoldLink - At What Cost Los Awesome - ScHoolboy Q, Jay Rock - Oxymoron All Hands on Deck - Tinashe - Aquarius ROCKABYE BABY (feat. ScHoolboy Q) - Joey Bada$$, ScHoolboy Q - ALL-AMERIKKAN BADA$$

V - Look, I remember the previous one (AND HOW), so this - this is fine. I'll fucking take it.

V's Join Me [P] Every Kind of Way - H.E.R. - H.E.R. Volume 2 Get You (feat. Kali Uchis) - Daniel Caesar, Kali Uchis - Freudian Best Part (feat. H.E.R.) - Daniel Caesar, Kali Uchis - Freudian I Am A Fool To Want You - Chet Baker - Finest Blue room - Chet Baker - Touch of Your Lips I've Never Been In Love Before (vocal) - Chet Baker - Chet Baker Sings Lullaby of Birdland - Sarah Vaughan - Sarah Vaughan A Kiss To Build A Dream On - Louis Armstrong - Hello, Dolly! Hello in There - Joan Baez - Diamonds & Rust Motorsport - Migos, Nicki Minaj, Cardi B - Motorsport

In conclusion: rap line slays again, with the greatest of ease, and Namjoon is clearly the MVP. 

I know it's not a competition but I find it pretty interesting that rap line came up with 3 very good mixtapes, which perfectly adhere to the rules; and vocal line (minus JK) just… did their own post-mixtape thing. By 'post-mixtape' I mean, we're not limited anymore by format and time, or access to material, thanks to digital formats and streaming libraries. Vocal line reflects that freedom, with all the good and bad that comes with it - whereas rap line shows what you can do, how you can be creative within the restriction of the form.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

snow in april chapter 4

deadalive au, casefile

one /// two // three

warning for discussion of death, general eerieness, references to mulder’s abduction. the goosebumps book that anna references is the scarecrow walks at midnight, one of my childhood favorites.

They ended up eating lunch at Haswell’s while they waited for her coworker to show up: sandwiches and soup. Haswell and Scully did that thing girls did where they bonded easily and chatted about things that weren't probable murders - impending motherhood, for example. (Or maybe it wasn't just girls, maybe it was normal people in general.) Haswell asked how far along Scully was, and Scully said, “Eight months,” and Haswell said, “Oh, in the long stretch, huh,” and Scully said, “Seems like it.” Haswell cast a few looks over at Mulder like she was expecting him to comment or confirm fatherhood. Mulder didn't say much, just ate his soup.

The little one, Lyla, slurped her soup and grinned at them through orange-red tomato-stained teeth. She asked a lot of questions about the FBI - namely what it was and if it was cooler than her mom's job. Anna didn't say much of anything either, just shuffled her soup through the spoon grumpily. It was probably one of the more bizarre meals of Mulder's lifetime - and it was, he realized, very likely his future, considering the possibility that Scully didn't get pissed off and kick him out. (The more he fucked up, the more likely it seemed.)

Haswell’s coworker showed up after lunch, letting himself in with his own key. (Mulder wondered if this meant that his and Scully's key-sharing practice was normal.) “Uncle Jeff!” Lyla squealed, running to hug him around the legs.

“Hey, kiddo,” the man said, tousling her hair. “Think your mom and me need to do work stuff right now, okay?”

The kid pouted, slinking off into the living room. Anna followed, offering a brief fist bump to the guy as she went. “Uncle Jeff” came around the table and offered a hug to Haswell. “These your FBI agents, Mari?” he asked, tousling her hair.

He seemed to have an easy repertoire with Haswell, a close relationship, but in the moment it looked kind of one-sided: she shrugged him off and motioned towards the other people in the room. “This is Agent Scully and Agent Mulder,” she said. “The federal agents and witnesses from yesterday… they have some insight on the case.”

“Jeff Renner,” the guy said faux-politely, offering his hand. Mulder and Scully took turns shaking it. “So, y'all gonna explain why I had to pull a bunch of files on heart attacks?” he said like he was joking, grinning at Haswell like Scully and Mulder weren't there.

“Heart failure,” Scully said pointedly, crossing her arms. (Forever a pathologist, Mulder thought.)

“Yeah, right, sure,” Jeff said, uncertain. “So what's the deal, Mar? This seems pretty run-of-the-mill.”

"I'll let them explain it,” said Haswell. “They'll do a better job than I will.”

So they took turns explaining the entire thing to Jeff, who watched them quietly, hand smoothing over his beard. Mulder managed to hold back most of his paranormal suspicions, outside of explaining the X-Files, and let Scully do most of the talking (for once). He thought Scully could convince anyone of anything. Still, by the end of it, Jeff was shaking his head. “Calvert? You gotta be kidding me, Mari,” he said.

“We know virtually nothing about him,” Haswell said, running her fingers through her hair. “And he's the only link between the victims, at least the tourist victims, besides the cause of death.”

“Victims? Mari, this is heart atta- failures, pardon me.” (Scully looked like she wanted to kill him in that moment, and Mulder wouldn’t have blamed her.) “These are not murders!”

“The amount of victims by heart failure is statistically improbable,” Scully started, voice teeming with annoyance, at the same time Mulder said, “Even if some of the deaths can be explained, most cannot, especially when you consider the health of some of the victims.”

“I don't care,” Jeff said, firm. He turned to Mari, his backs to them. “I've known Calvert forever - Mari, we both have. You know he didn't do this, and so do I. No offense,” he added, towards Scully and Mulder, looking briefly over his shoulder, “but just because two big-shot FBI agents come in here and start telling me things doesn't mean I have to listen.”

Scully looked annoyed. Mulder was used to it after all these years but the prickle of irritation never completely went away. “Jeff, you have to see the connection,” Haswell said quietly.

“There is nothing here.” Jeff folded his arms over his chest, as if everything was final. He stalked towards the living room. “I'm gonna go say hi to the girls.” And that was that, it seemed.

Haswell collapsed in her seat, looking defeated. “That,” Mulder said, “is the kind of reaction I expect from most.”

Haswell laughed bitterly. “I'll… I'll figure something out here,” she said. “I am not letting this go uninvestigated. I really think you could be onto something here.”

“We'll head back to the cabin for now,” Scully said. “You have my cell number if you find anything?”

“Yeah.” She had deflated completely like a parade balloon, chin sagging forward on her arms. “Thank you for your help, Agents.”

Lyla sing-songed a goodbye to them from the living room, and Scully smiled tenderly back at her. The smile faded when she saw the snow fluttering down from the gray-cloaked sky. “Shit,” she muttered. “I was really hoping to get out of here tonight.”

Genuinely astonished, Mulder turned to her in amazement. “I thought we were on the cusp of something here,” he said. “I thought we'd stay until it was finished.”

“And I thought that Haswell could handle it from here, or maybe we could send Doggett in.” Scully ignored his hand, extended to help her to the car, and shuffled through the snow on her own. “Mulder, aside from the fact that neither of us are in crime fighting condition… you fit the MO for the victims.” She lowered her voice for the last part as they climbed into the car.

“What do you mean?” Mulder asked, almost scoffing, as he turned the key in the ignition.

“All of the victims had an appointment with Calvert, which indicates that all of the victims had a near death experience,” Scully said. “And, Mulder…”

“Scully, I wasn't near dead, I was dead,” he said, maybe a little harshly.

“Still, it's not far off, Mulder, and it scares me. I'm not entirely sure we can trust Haswell.”

“What makes you think we can't trust Haswell?” Mulder snapped.

“Did you see how she was acting? Mulder, she clearly knows something; she went from ‘these aren't murders’ to ‘Calvert did it’ in all of five minutes! This could easily be a trap.”

Mulder was silent; he didn't have a good retort. Scully was right, Haswell didn't ooze trustworthiness, but she was willing to help them. She'd given them information. Her daughter had suspicions about Calvert. It was a lead, at the very least.

“Just… forget about it.” Scully's small hand brushed his arm. “Please? For now? I'll send Doggett up here as soon as we get back, I promise.”

There were a lot of things Mulder was planning on doing in the back of his mind, but forgetting this case was not one of them. (Scully should know that, he thought, hurt.) But he nodded and Scully seemed satisfied with that.

---

Mari Haswell sat slumped at her kitchen table even after the agents had left. The files lay in front of her like a scattered, dead thing. Now, she thought, the vultures would come to roost. There was no stopping the inevitable.

Jeff came up behind her, his stupid black shoes creaking on the floorboards. The house was ancient, god, she needed to repair it. Every time the girls went down for water in the middle of the night, she got panicked about burglars or worse. And there was worse; she'd seen it.

Jeff’s heavy hand came down on Haswell’s shoulder and she shivered. Normally she liked Jeff; the girls adored him, always had. Today, she wasn't sure. She was never sure of herself when things like this happened.

“You know we can't do this,” he said, quietly. “You should've sent them away, Mari. Bad things are going to happen now; you know that.”

She knew. In the moment, she said nothing; there was nothing to say.

---

Scully headed for the bedroom when they got home, saying something about a nap and how she hoped the goddamn snow would stop by the time she woke up. She didn't indicate whether or not she wanted Mulder to join her, and Mulder didn't push it; he had plans. As soon as she was most likely asleep, he pulled the card from yesterday out of his jacket pocket and called the number.

He'd expected some receptionist, but he got a man with a thick Southern accent who said, “This is Dr. Terrence Calvert,” with a great deal of dignity.

“Dr. Calvert,” Mulder said, leaning against the counter. “This is Fox Mulder, I'm a tourist in the area.” He hoped his resurrection hadn't made the news. It was the type of thing he’d be all over if it popped up in his news feed, if it wasn’t him who’d experienced it. “I know I don't have an appointment, but I heard about your practice and I thought it could… help me.”

“Oh,” Calvert said good-naturedly. “So you've had a recent near death experience, Mr. Mulder?”

He did not want to talk about this. He swallowed hard and said, “Yes.”

“Well, then. I think I can fit you in this afternoon. Does four o'clock work for you?”

“Yes,” Mulder said again, pressing his forehead into the wood of the cabinet. You can do this, he told himself. Justice for the victim, it had always been about getting justice for the victim. If he could get a little bit of justice for the Roberts, he thought he'd be okay.

Calvert sounded happy about the appointment; it could've been because of money or an unavoidable need to help others, or because he was a serial killer who preyed on his patients. Mulder didn't think he was in danger, though, not yet; all of the victims had left their appointments alive. He scribbled a note to Scully saying that he was running to the store and grabbed the keys off the counter, tromping through the snow to the car.

Snow made everything quieter, he'd told his mother once as a kid, and it was still true. The mountaintop was almost silent, white trailing eerily from the sky. The row of scarecrows outside Calvert’s house were dusted with snowflakes when Mulder climbed out of the car. For a second, he thought their blank button eyes were following him, but it seemed too fantastic (even by his standards). It's too Scooby-Doo, he thought. (And then, absurdly enough, he wondered if the kid would like Scooby-Doo.)

Calvert, by all standards, looked pleasant: a homey-looking man with a beard. He motioned Mulder in and offered him a cup of tea. “I'd normally ask for more information before seeing someone, but in cases like these it can be drastic,” he said.

Eagerness noted, thought Mulder. “Right, well, it's appreciated,” he said awkwardly, hands in his pockets. “It's been hard.” Lay it on thick, he instructed himself firmly, even though part of him knew it wasn't a lie. It had been hard.

“Of course. Near death experiences are life changing events, and not always for the positive.” Calvert gestured Mulder towards a couch and sat in a chair across from him. “I get all kinds of patients who have all kinds of things they want to work on. I try to help them all.”

“I'm sure,” Mulder said. “You must get a lot of people… lot of walks of life.” He was reaching, but he hoped Calvert wouldn’t notice.

“Mmm,” Calvert replied mildly. “You could put it that way.”

Mulder tried again: “So, what kinds of people usually come to see you?”

“Oh, all kinds,” Calvert said. “Let's stay focused on you, Fox.”

“It's Mulder,” he said, jaw clenched.

“My apologies, Mulder. It's just that it seems to me like you're stalling, putting off confronting your feelings about this trauma you've been through. And while that's understandable, you also need to face that fear or else you'll never be able to move past it.”

Mulder fidgeted awkwardly on the couch. You're a murderer, he thought, how the hell can you help me?

“We can ease into it, Mulder,” Calvert said comfortingly. “Would you like to start at the beginning?”

No, Mulder thought. “Like… recount my death to you?”

“I think it would help.”

Fuck, he hadn't come up with a cover story and he didn't feel like explaining the whole abduction-alien-virus-buried-for-three-months thing. “I'm in the FBI,” he started uneasily. I will catch you, you fuck. It's a federal crime to mess with me or Scully and you'd better fucking keep that in mind. “Cases can be… dangerous.”

Calvert nodded, scribbling on his pad. “I'm sure.”

“I was… kidnapped,” he added awkwardly. His knee was bouncing. “By a drug ring,” he lied. “They kept me for three months, as leverage. They… tortured me.”

(slice of the blade the smell of blood is overwhelming the other abductees are screaming too)

Calvert’s pen scratched over the paper. “I know that must've been hard, Mr. Mulder. Do you want to talk about it?”

(drills in his teeth on the roof of his mouth and it hurts Scully Scully help)

“No,” Mulder said hoarsely. “It's, uh… it's all a blur, I can't remember.”

(he can hear her calling for him in the desert and he calls back but she can't hear and her voice is fading as she walks away)

“Okay, Mulder, that's fine.” Calvert’s voice was soothing. He'd read somewhere that serial killers voices were usually soothing; he remembered Pfaster and shuddered. “Would you like to talk about your death?”

He couldn't remember his death; it all softened into a rapid blur of senses and then blackness and then Scully saying his name as he struggled to the surface. “They were interrogating me,” he lied. Enough to get information, just enough to stay in the house. “Waterboarding. I… drowned. My partner found me and resuscitated me.” As he said it he could almost see it: some cold, wet warehouse floor, him not breathing, Scully hunched over him in her usual grim, frantic determination that just barely warded off grief, her small hands pumping his chest. If she’d tried to revive him when she'd found him dead in Montana, it hadn't worked. She couldn't save him for the first time. He was just as surprised as she must've been; Scully was always able to save him.

“And when you were dead, what did you see?” Calvert asked.

“Nothing,” said Mulder, shifting again; he couldn't seem to get comfortable. “Nothing I can remember. It's not… like that, that's not the problem. I can't seem to get past the time I spent in captivity. Or my death.” It was like an insurmountable wall, he'd been trying to climb it for days now with no luck. He swallowed, tried to continue. “I've had… flashbacks. To my time as a captive.”

Calvert stopped writing, setting his pen on top of his notepad. “That's very understandable, Mulder. Trauma like that tends to stay with a person.” He folded his hands in his lap. Mulder stared at the callused knuckles and thought about the likelihood that Calvert was a murderer. “Discussing it can sometimes be therapeutic,” he added softly, encouragingly.

---

Mulder talked for the better part of an hour, his voice running on and on like a smooth motor, telling as much of the truth as he could. He caught himself a few times, reminding himself that he was talking to a suspect. Which is why he tried to avoid lingering over Scully, mentioning her as little as possible. But he couldn't stop himself from spilling everything to Calvert; fucked up as it was, the man was right, talking about it seemed to help. He was honestly startled when the end of the appointment came.

Calvert honestly didn't seem very suspicious by the end of the appointment; but then again, maybe he was just trying not to be. Still, he didn't ask about where Mulder was from or who he had up here with him or why he was here. And Mulder didn't offer that information. At the end of the appointment, he did say, “I assume you're staying in the cabins right outside of town?”

Scully, Mulder thought. “No, we're staying with family members.”

“Hmm.” Calvert closed his notepad. “Do you plan on a follow up appointment?”

“Yeah, we'll be probably be here a while unless this snow lets up,” Mulder said easily, trying to make his tense shoulders relax. “This kind of weather normal for April?”

“Normal enough, I suppose,” Calvert said. “I don't get many visitors… do you think the day after next would be a good time for another appointment?”

Mulder shrugged and Calvert jotted it down. He wanted to get out of here, was slightly horrified that he'd talked so much. He draped his jacket over his arm as he stood. “Hey,” he said. Casual, be casual, you've been undercover before goddamnit. “My… aunt told me there'd been recent deaths in the area… two tourists, married couple. You know anything about that?”

“No,” Calvert said, nonchalant. “I'm afraid I don’t.”

“She said it’s pretty normal,” Mulder adding, his voice sharpening slightly. I'm an FBI agent, you fuck; I know you counseled the victims. “Tourist deaths, that is. Town this small, you don't find it unusual? That so many tourists die.”

“I suppose so.” Calvert checked his watch, an escape as unsubtle as Mulder's questions. “If you'll excuse me, Mulder, our hour is up and I'd like to get to dinner.”

“Of course,” Mulder said, trying to be amicable. He stalked out of the room, biting his lip so he wouldn't say more.

The house was about as dark as you'd expect a Hollywood serial killer's house to be. Shadowy fucking hallways. Mulder took a wrong turn at the place where he could go out to the cheery home waiting room Calvert had built into his house. (It even had a damn fish tank, like a dentist's office.) He went further into the house instead, heart thudding as he tried not to make any noise.

Near a staircase was a table with a leather bound book lying open. Mulder drew closer, half holding his breath, and bent over the pulpy pages. Pinned to the top was a picture of the victims. Cara and Kyle Roberts. They were alive and happy; he was kissing her cheek with his arm around her and she was laughing into the camera.

Under the photo was a scrawl of quick information: wife died from accidental electrocution, husband brought her back. From Kansas City, no children. Wife experienced an out of body trip “to the sky”.

He flipped further back in the book, pages thick between his fingers. A picture of the second victim, Layla Tanner, was pinned to the second page: drowned, from Milwaukee, wife back home. Says she talked to God. A picture of the three Youngs in snow suits and ski poles: son was sick and flatlined, paramedics brought him back miraculously. Didn't see anything. From Atlanta. Parents protective, unlikely to leave him alone. The two victims from 1997 - shot, revived by paramedics, saw red light and heard maniacal laughter; flatlined during surgery, heard nothing. The Hendricks - shared near death experience, saw each other in described heaven. All of the victims lay out in this book, a grisly game of show-and-tell. Mulder held his breath.

“Mr. Mulder,” someone said from behind him. He jolted, book tumbling to the ground. Calvert was standing behind him, and he didn't look particularly happy. “Door's that way,” he said, pointing over his shoulder.

“Of… of course,” Mulder said. His heart was still pounding, palms slick with sweat. He brushed past Calvert without  word, jaw clenched in some kind of fury. He'd wanted to take the book but he definitely couldn’t get away with that, not with Calvert right there. Next appointment, he thought firmly.

He didn't go back to the cabin, at first; he went to Haswell’s house. He figured she'd be more willing to help than Scully, at the moment. Haswell looked surprised when she opened the door, like she hadn't expected him to come back. “Agent Mulder,” she said with some surprise.

“I went to Calvert’s,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “I made an appointment with him pretending to be a patient.”

Haswell blinked. “That… actually does not surprise me,” she said. “You don't seem like the type of person to give up easily.”

“I’m not giving up on this just because your partner said there’s nothing there,” he said. “No offense.”

She sighed, leaning heavily against the door frame. “Jeff’s a piece of work sometimes,” she said. “Did you find anything?”

“Something along those lines,” Mulder said. “He didn’t seem too suspicious… more interested in my NDE than in my personal information; the only personal thing he asked was where I was staying. I lied and said with family.”

Haswell raised an eyebrow. “Come in, Agent Mulder; you’re letting out all the heat.”

“Just Mulder is fine,” he said, stepping inside. Snow from his shoes shook loose on the carpet. “I found a book in Calvert’s house, though,” he added. “It had the victims in it; the Roberts’ and Layla Tanner and the Youngs… it had information about their deaths and pictures, personal pictures. I wasn’t able to get a good look at it, I don’t know if all of them were in there. I tried to get ahold of it but Calvert caught me.”

“That’s something, but it’s not much,” Haswell said. “It could just be his patient notes; that’s what anyone would say if we went after him with it. We’ll need more evidence.”

“I have another appointment in two days,” Mulder said. “I can look for more evidence then.”

A little head poked around the doorframe to the kitchen. Mulder raised his eyebrows at her. “Lyla, go back and eat your dinner,” Haswell said without turning around, and Lyla scrambled away from the door and across the kitchen floor. “You didn't happen to see Anna on your way in, did you?” she addressed Mulder. “I've called her for dinner five times now.”

“No, sorry,” he said.

She looked annoyed, but went back to the subject at hand. “We need a plan,” she told him. “Some way to definitively prove that Calvert is involved. The first three victims are buried here; do you think you could get Agent Scully to do an exam if they were exhumed?”

He tried not to shudder. “I can try,” he said. “I don’t want anything to happen to her, though. I don’t want to put her in any danger.”

Haswell nodded like she understood. “I’ll make sure she’s protected,” she said. “Nothing will happen to her or the baby.”

He gulped. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll talk to her, see what she says. I’ll call you again and let you know, but I’ll leave now and let you finish dinner.”

“Thank you,” Haswell said, not without humor. Mulder offered some sort of smile before turning towards the door to leave.

“Agent Mulder?” He turned to face her. Her hand was clenched around the railing. “Have you had an NDE recently?”

“No,” he lied. “Just a lie for Calvert.”

She nodded. “Look, whether Calvert is the killer or not… you should be careful,” she said. “There’s a pattern, and you’ve just inserted yourself into it, FBI agent or not.”

“I’m being careful,” he told her. “I’ve done things like this before… made myself a target.”

“Okay,” said Haswell. “I’m just saying… my husband passed away when Lyla was a baby. I know what it’s like to raise a baby without another parent, and it’s not easy.”

His fingers clenched hard and awkward around the doorknob. “How did you know?” he asked, uncertain.

“I could just tell,” she said. “There was no good explanation of why you and Scully were here together if you weren’t on a case, and you both seemed very protective of each other.”

That’s one way to put it, he thought.

“I’ll be careful,” he said, because there was no other choice. He wasn’t going to die again. He nodded at her before opening the door and leaving the house.

“Hey, FBI guy.” Mulder turned towards the voice and found Anna Haswell standing in the front yard bundled up in a coat. She was staring at him solemnly. “You believe in, like, ghosts and shit, right?”

“Something like that,” Mulder said, amused.

“Okay.” She bunched her mittened hands together, scarf blowing in the wind. “Okay, so you should know about the scarecrows.”

He blinked. “The… scarecrows?” he repeated, casting his eyes down the road towards Calvert’s house, the row of scarecrows on his front fence.

“I know it sounds like that one Goosebumps book, but I swear, it’s true,” Anna said in a frantic whisper. “I’ve seen them move. Walk around and shit.”

“You’ve seen them?” Mulder turned to look back at her, raising his eyebrows in a question.

The girl nodded briskly. “I’d be careful,” she said in a low voice. “If I were you.”

---

It had seemed, at the time, like a good idea to sneak off during Scully’s nap, but his stomach thunked when he realized the repercussions. How bad he must’ve scared her.

It was still snowing when he finally pulled up at the cabin, the white coating everything. Mulder tried not to slip as he went over the stone path and cursed the unusual weather. It was dark inside, and he hoped briefly that Scully was still asleep as the door swung open.

“You went to see Calvert, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Mulder fumbled for the light switch, turning it on. Scully was sitting on the couch and staring at the darkened TV screen. “Scully…” he started.

“I could’ve given you about twenty reasons as to why that was a bad idea,” she said, still not looking at him. “But who knows if you would’ve listened.”

That was irritating; he took a sharp breath and rounded the couch to face her. “Scully, listen. I lied to him about what happened to me, I told him I was staying with family, and I didn’t tell him you were here with me. I think I’m onto something; I found a book in his house that has pictures and information about the victims in it. Haswell said…”

“If you really wanted to keep investigating this case - which I’ve made clear I think is a bad idea - the least you could’ve done is have the goddamn decency to tell me where you were going,” she hissed, getting to her feet. “You left me a fucking note saying you were going to the store and weren’t back for hours; do you have any idea what finding that note was like? I am your partner, Mulder, and if you insist on digging into this, we need to work together.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t like the idea,” he muttered. By the look on her face, he could tell that was the wrong thing to say.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have, and this is exactly why. You put yourself in danger! You could’ve blacked out on the way over there and crashed the car, for one thing, and more importantly, you practically made yourself a target, if your theory is correct. Mulder, he could’ve poisoned you, you could be dying right now.”

“He didn’t poison me,” Mulder said matter-of-factly. “He couldn’t have, I didn’t touch him or eat or drink anything.”

“You don’t know how he does it; he could have coated the fucking couch you sat on with it.” Scully was tense, hands curling into fists by her side. “And that’s not the goddamn point, Mulder.”

“Well, what is it?” he snapped. “What is the goddamn point, Scully? I’ve been hurt a hundred times before and I’ve still investigated cases! Hell, you were pissed that you couldn’t work in the field after you went into the field! You kept working cases when you were dying, Scully, and I am in perfect health.”

“This is different,” she whispered, furious.

“How? How is it so different? I was worried about you, Scully; I was watching you die every damn day and you wouldn’t slow down! Do you know how many days I was worried were going to be your last? Do you know the cases I let slide by because I didn’t want to put too much strain on you? And god forbid I express my concerns, because the untouchable Dana Scully can’t let anyone take care of her. It doesn’t matter what anyone else is thinking or feeling…”  

“This is fucking different,” she shouted. Mulder was momentarily silenced and so she kept going, barreling through him like a freight train. “You watched me die, Mulder? I buried you. I was in love with you, and I buried you. I watched you go into the goddamn ground. I found you cold and stiff in a field and I knew there was nothing I could do to bring you back.”

Mulder swallowed against the building lump in his throat. “Scully…” he tried.

“You want to know what it was like? I found out you’d been abducted about twenty minutes after I found out I was pregnant, and all I could think about is that I had to find you. I ran all over the goddamn country to try and find you. I wouldn’t let them have the X-Files because I thought if I did that they wouldn’t let me find you.” She laughed bitterly, wiping under her eyes. “Doggett was a good partner but he wasn’t exactly… open to the paranormal cases that the X-Files deal with, so I tried to goddamn fill your place and offer up those theories you always come up with. I almost fucking died in the Utah desert because a cult shoved a fucking slug they worshipped up my back. I ended up in the hospital because I thought they’d done something to my baby, that it wasn’t… human.” She swallowed hard. Mulder could feel his hands shaking; he shoved them in his pockets. He wanted to hug her more than ever. “I tried so hard to be you, to fill your empty space, Mulder… and it wasn’t enough. You still died. I couldn’t save you. I buried you and I tried to move on… do you even know how hard that was? Do you know how many nights I spent in your bed? I couldn’t leave your apartment and I fed your goddamn fish and I prayed for a goddamn miracle every night. And I got it.”

He was crying. He realized that in the moment, and he said her name again, softly.

Scully looked down at her shoes. A tear hit the rug. “I can’t expect you to be anything other than yourself,” she mumbled. “God, I wouldn’t want that. But, Mulder… you just got back. And I am not burying you again.”

The words made his stomach clench, made him feel sick. “I know,” he said softly. “But… I have to do this.”

(There was something inside him who wouldn’t let the damn thing go. It was the same thing that had led him to look for his sister for decades, to not give up when Scully had been taken or was dying. He hadn’t given up on Lucy Householder. These people needed help, too.)

Scully didn’t look up, her jaw clenching. “That’s what I thought,” she said fiercely. Mulder swallowed and searched for something comforting to say, but he had nothing. No excuses. “Do you know what the worst part is?” she hissed, angry, fists clenching harder. “It’s the fact that you were dying for goddamn months beforehand and you never said a thing. I’m halfway convinced you don’t give a damn about your life, Mulder, or how it affects the people around you.” She paused, continued shakily: “Maybe you wouldn’t have left if you did.” And then she turned and went into the bedroom, the door snicking shut quietly. It was almost worse than a slam.

Mulder stood in the living room, hands clenched awkwardly in the fabric of his jacket pockets. He stood until he could move without getting sick. He went upstairs and stood under the heavy warm stream of the shower in the other bathroom. When he came downstairs, the door was still closed so he grabbed a quilt and crawled onto the couch. He lay still, trying to forget everything, the fight, but Scully’s words kept coming back to him. He felt like he was falling apart from the inside out.

He fell asleep restless, freezing cold even under the downy quilt.

---

Lyla could see the beam of the flashlight dancing at the space below her door. Usually it meant that Anna was sneaking out, which usually meant that Lyla had to stay in bed and not tell or she would be (in Anna’s words) dead meat. But she didn’t think she cared in that moment. Something was about to happen; she could feel it. It was like electricity in the air.

Lyla slipped out of bed, socked feet sliding across the hardwood floor, and crept to the door. She thought she could sneak up on her sister without making any noise, but the door creaked when she opened it. Anna whirled on her, light shining right in her eyes. “What are you doing, squirt?” she hissed. “Go back to sleep!”

Lyla shook her head firmly, pushing into the hallway. “I’m coming,” she said in a loud whisper. “And you have to let me, or I’ll tell Mom on you.”

“Wanna bet?” Anna snarled.

Lyla raised an eyebrow in challenge and crept towards their mom’s bedroom door.

“Fine, fine, come on,” Anna whispered frantically, putting her hand over the flashlight to muffle the light. “But you have to promise not to scream.”

She made Lyla put on her coat and boots, which was annoying, but Lyla was mostly just happy she was letting her come. Anna opened the door and pulled it open silently before holding a finger to her lips and leaving the house. Lyla followed, nerves tingling with excitement. As soon as they were out on the porch, Anna turned off the flashlight and there was only the moon.

They walked silently up the dirt road, leaving footprints in the snow. Lyla clenched her teeth together so they wouldn’t chatter and looked up at her sister. “Are we going to see the scarecrows?” she whispered.

“Shh!” Anna growled. And then: “Yeah, if we’re lucky. They always walk when someone new comes to town.”

Lyla shivered, looking back up towards the road. They were approaching Calvert’s fence, and it was empty, void of the usual row of scarecrows. “Anna,” she said. “Hey, Anna, it’s empty.”

Anna turned and saw it, sprinted over to the wooden fence. Lyla struggled to keep up with her, too-big boots flopping almost comically. When she got there, Anna was staring at the poles with a look of disgust. “Shit, we missed it,” she said.

“You shouldn’t say shit,” Lyla said sadly, reaching out to touch an empty pole with her cold hand. “Mom’ll get mad.”

“You just said it, squirt,” Anna retorted, kicking at a pile of snow. And then her eyes lit up with interest. “Hey, Ly, look at this.”

Lyla turned, curious, and gasped at what she saw. There were spurts of bright red liquid on the snow, and beside it, unusual marks. Almost what she thought straw might look like if someone pressed it into the snow. “Look,” Anna said, pointing up the road. “They went that way.”

“You’ve really seen them walk?” she whispered.

“Yep. I hide in those bushes, over there; I’ve never let them see me.” She was whispering in terrified excitement. “I don’t know what would happen if they did.”

Lyla stared at the footprints with frightened awe, eyes wide. “Where do they go?”

“I don’t know,” Anna said. “Nowhere good.”

---

He was hanging from a cliff, and Scully had him by the hand. I won’t let go, she whispered.

Scully, the baby, he said. You have to take care of the baby.

I won’t bury you twice, she said, and he could suddenly feel the clots of grave dirt in his throat, choking him, closing him out. He coughed, swinging wildly from Scully’s hand.

Agent Muuuuulder, someone sing-songed below him. He looked down and saw the victims at the bottom, dirt caked in their hair and coating their face. Cara Roberts was looking up at him, her husband holding her hand; she waved at him, a wiggly-fingered greeting. Ready to come down here?

No, he said. I’m gonna be a father.

I won’t let go, Scully said again. Her fingernails dug into his skin; blood ran down his hands. Don’t leave me, please.

I won’t, he said, but someone yanked hard on his ankle. Scully shrieked as he slipped further through her fingers.

You can’t escape this, Cara Roberts said gleefully. You have to come back to the ground.

He was choking on grave dirt; he couldn’t scream. Scully cried out as his hand slipped out of hers and he started to fall.

Mulder jolted away, his cheek pressed into the patterned upholstery. He was breathing hard. Moonlight streamed through the window, drawing a white path along the rug. He sat up, feeling an unavoidable need to see Scully. He wanted to apologize.

He turned and saw the burlap face at the window, nose curving forward like a beak, stitched mouth curved upwards in a grimace.