#Gerald Presencer

[tocafitas]

Casa Lúpulo 3 anos

Sem textão, a playlist de hoje é o meu set do sábado passado, feito pra comemorar os três anos da Casa Lúpulo. Pensei numa seleção diversamente dançante. Soul, disco, tropicália, rock, samba, samba rock, samba reggae e até um tiquinho de carimbó numa mistura majoritariamente brasileira, mas com inserções orgânicas de música do mundo. De Sivuca a Madonna, de Roberto Carlos a The Cure, de Arnaldo…

[lizmitches]

if melissa makes regular appearances at howard family events it makes me wonder more than ever about the implications of their private/intimate/two-person christmas parties like ??

[castrotophic]

not sure if anyone is interested in this but here is a list of the most joyfully vital poems I know :)

You're the Top by Ellen Bass

Grand Fugue by Peter E. Murphy

Our Beautiful Life When It's Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro

Everything Is Waiting For You by David Whyte

Lawrence Ferlinghetti Is Alive! by Emily Sernaker

Instructions for Assembling the Miracle by Peter Cooley

Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay

Barton Springs by Tony Hoagland

Footnote to Howl by Allen Ginsberg

Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman

Tomorrow, No, Tomorrower by Bradley Trumpfheller

At Last the New Arriving by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

To a Self-Proclaimed Manic Depressive Ex-Stripper Poet, After a Reading by Jeannine Hall Gailey

In the Presence of Absence by Richard Widerkehr

Chillary Clinton Said 'We Have to Bring Them to Heal' by Cortney Lamar Charleston

Midsummer by Charles Simic

Today by Frank O'Hara

Naturally by Stephen Dunn

Life is Slightly Different Than You Think It Is by Arthur Vogelsang

Ode to My Husband, Who Brings the Music by Zeina Hashem Beck

The Imaginal Stage by D.A. Powell

Lucky Life by Gerald Stern

Beginner's Lesson by Malcolm Alexander

Presidential Poetry Briefing by Albert Haley

A Poem for Uncertainties by Mark Terrill

On Coming Home by Lisa Summe

G-9 by Tim Dlugos

Five Haiku by Billy Collins

The Fates by David Kirby

Upon Receiving My Inheritance by William Fargason

Variation on a Theme by W. S. Merwin

Easy as Falling Down Stairs by Dean Young

Psalm 150 by Jericho Brown

Pantoum for Sabbouha by Zeina Hashem Beck

ASMR by Corey Van Landingham

A Welcome by Joanna Klink

From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee

At Church, I Tell My Mom She’s Singing Off-Key and She Says, by Michael Frazier

Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

Sorrow Is Not My Name by Ross Gay

You Can't Have It All by Barbara Ras

We Were Emergencies by Buddy Wakefield

To the Woman Crying Uncontrollably In the Next Stall by Kim Addonizio

Monet Refuses the Operation by Lisel Mueller

[mochisquish]

This is what Robotnik did the last time he found Stone tied up:

When he finds Stone tied up again, this time in the presence of Gerald, Robotnik makes a big deal about being shocked and disgusted by Stone's sexual proclivities.

don't be suspicious.

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

thinking about how there's some incidental dialogue in shadow gens (iirc it's when you enter doom mode) when gerald says smth like "i think i have an idea of what's going on with you. just know that we love you and not to change the timeline lmao" or smth like that. but like. also thinking about how maria knew shadow was half-alien but was surprised at the whole "faustian bargain" thing. and how she stood up to black doom and. i'm now convinced that they got plucked from a time right before they recorded that video message to shadow in '05. i think they got back and knew that shadow was going to have to fight black doom and made that recording.

BUT.

in that recording, maria seems to think she'll be with shadow when it happens. she says they'll do it together.

i think gerald knew he was going to die. he saw how shadow reacted when he first saw him... but not when he first saw maria. gerald ran in late to that. when gerald was talking about being at peace with his fate, i think he was telling the truth. but i don't think he knew maria was part of that. he never thought that maria would die. she was too central a presence in his life. he spent the last decade or so of his life working to cure her. he made his entire life's purpose to help her. he made shadow for her. and his journal shows how much faith he had in his own abilities. he saw himself as a genius. he figured it was only a matter of time before he cured maria. he figured that he made shadow so powerful that he could protect her.

gerald knew he would die, that shadow's hesitancy and desperation to protect them came from a place where gerald wasn't there for him in the future. but he had no idea maria would be gone, too. and that's what broke him

[steveyockey]

Measuring purely by confirmed kills, the worst mass murderer ever executed by the United States was the white supremacist terrorist Timothy McVeigh. On April 19, 1995, McVeigh detonated a massive bomb at the Murrah federal building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people, including 19 children. The government killed McVeigh by lethal injection in June 2001. Whatever hesitation a state execution provokes, even over a man such as McVeigh — necessary questions about the legitimacy of killing even an unrepentant soldier of white supremacy — his death provided a measure of closure to the mother of one of his victims. “It’s a period at the end of a sentence,” said Kathleen Treanor, whose 4-year old McVeigh killed.

McVeigh, who in his own psychotic way thought he was saving America, never remotely killed on the scale of Kissinger, the most revered American grand strategist of the second half of the 20th century.

The Yale University historian Greg Grandin, author of the biography Kissinger’s Shadow, estimates that Kissinger’s actions from 1969 through 1976, a period of eight brief years when Kissinger made Richard Nixon’s and then Gerald Ford’s foreign policy as national security adviser and secretary of state, meant the end of between three and four million people. That includes “crimes of commission,” he explained, as in Cambodia and Chile, and omission, like greenlighting Indonesia’s bloodshed in East Timor; Pakistan’s bloodshed in Bangladesh; and the inauguration of an American tradition of using and then abandoning the Kurds.

No infamy will find Kissinger on a day like today. Instead, in a demonstration of why he was able to kill so many people and get away with it, the day of his passage will be a solemn one in Congress and — shamefully, since Kissinger had reporters like CBS’ Marvin Kalb and The New York Times’ Hendrick Smith wiretapped — newsrooms. Kissinger, a refugee from the Nazis who became a pedigreed member of the “Eastern Establishment” Nixon hated, was a practitioner of American greatness, and so the press lionized him as the cold-blooded genius who restored America’s prestige from the agony of Vietnam.

Not once in the half-century that followed Kissinger’s departure from power did the millions the United States killed matter for his reputation, except to confirm a ruthlessness that pundits occasionally find thrilling. America, like every empire, champions its state murderers. The only time I was ever in the same room as Henry Kissinger was at a 2015 national-security conference at West Point. He was surrounded by fawning Army officers and ex-officials basking in the presence of a statesman.

[corneredcopia]

I’m still super glad we are getting an actual deleted scene of stone saving Ivo and it was still basically canon bc of the storyboards but….I felt like it was entirely possible to cut down a min of the Jim Carrey double silliness in favor of the 1 min storyboard scene or at least where Gerald explained how he was alive with the quill 🫠 like I get it was for the general audience bc Jim’s humor and presence is such a sell but….

[chrystal-ink]

Shadvent calendar Day 23

Shadow x GN Reader

Christmas Party

The party was in full swing by the time the two of you arrived. Rouge never being one for subtlety had spared no expense for her party. Elegant strands of garland and lights hung on the walls, a large christmas tree perfectly decorated stood grand in the center of the drawing room, perfectly bloomed poinsettias were placed through the halls. It looked like you had walked into a Christmas palace.

Servers went throughout her home offering hors d'oeuvres and cocktails curated just for that night. and most impressively a string quartet played in the living room serenading the partygoers with beautiful renditions of all the classic holiday songs.

"Welcome, I was getting worried the two of you wouldn't show. how's my favorite couple?" Rouge greeted as the two of you walked in.

"Sorry were late we ran into traffic."

"Shadow I'm surprised at you, thinking you could get a lie past me." Rouge teased.

You giggled in response. "Sorry Rouge it was my fault I was having a little wardrobe malfunction."

"Oh no! you have my fullest sympathies" Rouge responded with deep concern. "But it looks like it all worked out you look great, not as nice as me of course, but I have the advantage of knowing my decor."

"well no one can compete in the fashion game with you Rouge you're truly the best."

"Oh you flatter me too much Y/N."

Shadow couldn't help but smile as the two of you spoke. The two people he was closest to enjoying each other's presence, he never thought he would feel like that again after Maria and Gerald. he was glad he was wrong.

the three of you chatted for a while before Rouge had to go off on her hostess duties leaving you and Shadow to yourselves. unfortunately your alone time was short lived. it wasn't before too long Amy found you and whisked you away, something about the charcuterie board, leaving poor Shadow to his own devices.

He never really liked parties too many people and far too much chatter, he was perfectly content just sitting in the corner and watching everyone interact. However, a blue hedgehog had other plans tonight.

❄️

"Can I just say Y/N you look amazing tonight" Amy said handing you a cocktail.

"aww thanks Amy"

"You and your date really do make a fine pair"

"enjoying your handywork are we now?"

"what? I don't know what your talking about"

"Well as I recall, you and Rouge worked pretty hard setting us up."

Amy laughed "Well could you blame us the two of you are just so perfect together."

"Well I can't argue with the results, Thank you Amy."

"You've already thanked me enough, every time I see the two of you together you always look so happy. I don't think I've seen Shadow smile this much and so bright too. Seeing the two of you so in love just warms my heart so much You're just so perfect together."

You smiled at Amy "Well I'll toast to that. And if you need me to return the favor with you know who I'd be happy to oblige."

Amy giggled "I might have to take you up on that someday."

🎄

Shadow watched you and Amy laughing together from across the room, the sound drifting to his ears. He loved your laugh the way it could make a silent room into a symphony, and you just looked so beautiful whenever you laughed. He smiled at your beauty.

"Woah! Shadow are you actually smiling? I didn't know that was even possible." Sonic said as he approached the black hedgehog. "Are you happy to see me?"

"Go away sonic."

"Oh I see, staring at Y/N are we? let guess you have a crush on them don't you?"

"Y/N and I have been dating for quite some time now It's a wonder how you lack such basic observation skills."

"I'm just messing with you Shadow, but I haven't seen you smile like that in like, ever."

"I'll say" Rouge chimed in "It's nice to see you happy like that though it's a good look on you."

"I Agree" added Sonic "But I think infinite might get a little jealous."

"He's been dead for several years he'll get over it."

Sonic laughed " Wow smiling and cracking jokes Y/N Really does bring out the best in you don't they"

Shadow once again looked over to you, at the same time you looked over at him and smiled, he smiled back.

"Yah, they really do,"

[fadingdaggerr]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a fluff Melissa x reader, where R is a new teacher and shes got this sick motorcycle and everybody thinks she's super cool and badass, and Mel's absolutely head over heels and gets all nervous when R is around, and when R eventually realizes it she starts doing things on purpose to get Mel all flustered.

With like A LOT of fluff.

You can maybe make it little spicy too, or not.

Idk you do whatever you prefer.

know i’m alive (18+, minors dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 5.8k

includes: the dating but not really sort of trope, but of ooc!melissa i’m sorry, partially unedited again im sorry

warnings: sexual innuendo, alcohol consumption (brief), making out/kissing, smut (fingering, oral, mel receiving), body worship?, aftercare

note: the bike referenced is a harley-davidson 1992 daytona, one of my personal fav models. i grew up in a biker family so this was cathartic. also the temperatures referenced in fahrenheit are roughly the 10-20°c range, hope that’s helpful :)

It’s become a sort of routine: get to work, drop your things off, get coffee, make Melissa blush, teach, do prep, watch Melissa try to hide a smile, go home, repeat. You can’t help yourself, getting the woman, who will always be the toughest in any room she’s in, riled up with fluttering lashes. Shocked faces from across the room didn’t help with the ego you were steadily growing with each interaction.

The first day you were at Abbott, she pointedly ignored you, despite constantly having an eye on you. What you once thought was suspicion over a new person near the kids, though sort of true, was more of a curiosity. A new third grade teacher walked into her school, wearing an oversized denim jacket and old Chucks, how was she supposed to feel? Her harsh glares and eagle eyes softened, and you started to see a more bashful side of the woman. It was only until Ava had the balls to say that Melissa’s behavior was very not Melissa, that you noticed that only you could evoke this side of her.

Since day one, the redhead has had an interest in you, not that she would ever verbalize it. Breathlessness has become a common feeling every time you come in with the sleeves of your sweater rolled up and rings adorning your fingers, making her focus shift and half the time she doesn’t hear a word you say, just following the gold bands that catch the light as you speak animatedly. Melissa longs for the day you got close enough and she could pull you in by the necklace you wear, the same that dangles in a taunt when you lean into her space. In the brief moments you’re alone, there’s a sense of calm that comes over both of you. The need to keep up a bravado drops, and you can indulge yourself in her presence. She’s lost count of how many times you casually dropped a gorgeous or beautiful instead of using her name, and how she has to fight turning when you say either in casual conversation, not just to her. All you know is that her wide, surprised eyes are all the motivation you need to keep it up.

—☽—

It’s bitter cold as you walk into Abbott, finding yourself nearly running to the main entrance before your eyes begin to water from the nipping winds. Reprieve comes in the form of the front lobby, leaning against it to catch your breath and shrug off your jacket to let the warmer air rid you of goosebumps. With your belongings dropped off in your classroom, it’s easy to start moving towards the lounge, knowing you saw a silver car that belonged to a certain redhead.

The voice of Jim Gardener is all there is when you enter, Barbara having, no doubt, told them to shut their mouths while her ‘second favorite man’ was speaking, Gerald also ranking number one in his wife’s heart. Grabbing your personal mug from the shelf, you pour a cup of unfortunate coffee as you watch Melissa through your periphery. She used to sit in one of the chairs, no room for someone to place themselves next to her. However, once you started, you noticed she moved to the couch, where no one but you was brave enough to sit.

Walking slowly to your spot, you gently sip the coffee that threatens to spill over the sides before setting it on the table. Lowering yourself, you sit purposefully closer to Melissa than a typical coworker would. Not one shuffle away or look of discomfort comes of it, it almost makes you grin. As the weather comes on, and Jim is no longer on screen, voices start to fill the room. You throw your arm back to the back of the couch as leverage to push yourself forward, leaning into Melissa’s space as the two-week broadcast appears on screen.

Her attention on you is not missed, neither is Barbara’s, who you already know is giving Melissa a look of bewilderment. The dusty pink that paints her cheeks with every interaction between you has quickly become your favorite color. It’s a struggle and a half to keep your eyes on the screen, but the temperatures being in the fifties and sixties starting tomorrow made you so excited that it didn’t even matter. Instantly, your mind is whirling with plans for the second the final bell rings and you can run out the door.

When the news goes to commercial, you sit back, keeping your arm behind Melissa’s shoulders. The warmth radiating off of her has your mind begging for you to shift your arm just a touch closer, to wrap your arm around her, but so far playing it safe has been working in gaining her trust. She can’t help it, green eyes falling onto you as she tries to decipher your move, hoping to catch something in your eyes that tells her what this was between you. All she gets is a little smirk that is half-hidden by a sip of coffee from an orange mug.

Melissa catches on quickly to your happier mood, finding the joy you exuded, that seemingly came from nowhere, to be adorable. She can’t even believe that word dared to enter her vocabulary. Your typical flirty remarks don’t make an appearance, just a serene smile on your face and a wink to Melissa when you catch her eyes scanning over your face. 

As the last kids get into their dad’s truck, you find yourself practically skipping back to your room to quickly gather your things. With the speed in which you move and the utter state of focus you are in, you don’t notice Melissa’s little smile as she sees you move with obvious excitement as you leave the building. She decidedly ignores the little thought that you may be all giddy to see someone else, and maybe she will continue to ignore it with a glass of Merlot.

Marty at the front desk of M&J’s Storage Company gives you a tightlipped smile and a curt nod as you drive past, having gotten used to you stopping by periodically over the winter. Pulling up in front of unit seventy makes your heart race, the second most beautiful thing in the world sat behind that navy metal door. The old lock takes a few tugs to loosen its hold, finally allowing you to release the latch and lift the door.

“Well, hello again,” you mumble as you pull back the cover, eyes scanning over metal. It hadn’t been long since your last little maintenance visit, meaning all you had to do was drive home and get her shined up.

After stopping at the gas station on the way home to fill the tank, you finally park and nearly eat pavement as you jump out of the car. It takes extra effort without the help you usually get from your brother to lower the bike off the trailer, but you manage, though it leaves your arms shaking while you remove the cover again.

Polish turns the piping from grey to silver, the dust off the body goes back to its original tan, and the blue on the design is restored to its proper glory. Despite checking once a month or so, you cross your fingers as you start the engine, hoping that all your hardwork will pay off and nothing will go wrong. The engine does a chg-chg-chg before it turns over and the motorcycle comes to life.

“Yes!” you exclaim, jumping in the air slightly with sheer amount of excitement running through your veins. You let the bike run for a little bit as you take photos to send to your brothers as proof you could, in fact, get it off the trailer without them. 

All you can think about for the next couple hours before bed is the feeling of your riding jacket and the wind blowing against it.

—☽—

The sky is still dark when you open your eyes the next morning, impatience waking before you before your alarm. Once you’ve gained your bearings, you get up and are getting ready as fast as you possibly can. It’s impossible to sit still, you’re almost dancing in place as you brush your teeth and can’t stop yourself from skipping to the closet by the front door. Shoved in the back, next to your sandals, was a pair of black, leather, steel toe boots. After saving every penny your senior year of college, you bought them as a graduation gift for yourself, and you’ll wear them until you can feel the ground through the soles.

Once you had to turn around due to forgetting it from sheer enthusiasm, you borderline ran down the stairs to your garage space. With the garage door open, the warm air creeping in from the outside is invigorating, and the lack of wind for the first time in two weeks gives you hope that your face won’t freeze off on the ride to Abbott. The biggest pain is getting your backpack to sit comfortably over your slightly bulky riding jacket, covered in patches from states and towns you’d visited over the years.

The second the bike begins to move, it feels like all of your problems have disappeared behind you. The low rumbling and revving drives others crazy, but it feels like the calming presence around you. If only the cops around weren’t such sticklers, or you’d have left your helmet off for the fifteen minutes drive. The wind on your face is better than caffeine, but your eyes water so badly, you can’t have anyone thinking you were sobbing on your way to work. That’s a Monday activity, not Thursday.

From the speed in which you got ready to get on your bike, you’re the second person in, Janine always being first. You refrain from sitting by the TV once you’re in the lounge, just leaning against the counter and sipping your coffee until the object of your affection arrives. Gregory and Jacob come in together, talking about the next round of plants for the garden. When Barbara comes in, you can see that she’s holding in laughter, a fast-talking Melissa behind her.

“How are you not freaking out, Barb? That bike is beautiful, and it’s at Abbott, Abbott, of all places,” she almost yells, her hands waving around with disbelief in her friend’s relative disinterest.

“It’s a bicycle, Melissa.”

“Motorcycle, it’s a motorcycle. It doesn’t have a basket and ribbons, unlike yours,” Melissa mumbles that last part, but Barbara stills catches it and gives a gentle smack to her friend’s arm, despite laughing herself. You can’t lie, knowing that Melissa is fascinated by the bike, you want to speak up about it now, but instead, you stay quiet.

The spot next to her by the TV stays vacant, practically having an RSVP with your name on it. When you plop next to her, she peeks at you from the corner of her eye, and she does it a few times again during the commute report. You catch her the fifth time, raising your brows in question to not gain the others’ attention, but she just gives you a shake of the head. She turns back to the TV, but you’re persistent, propping your arm behind you like you’d done yesterday, and poking her shoulder.

Her head whips away from you, and seeing that it was your hand over her shoulder, she turns back to you with a playful scowl.

“What?” she asks with a softer tone than you had expected.

You lean in just a touch to keep your words between the two of you, “you were staring. Was just making sure you’re okay.”

God, you could survive solely off the way her eyes shine, how wide they open at your earnest. Neither of you realize the time between your words and the answer that has yet to come, just looking at each other as a tiny smile plays on your lips. It takes the internal will of ten thousand men to not jump at her emerald eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

“Right… Sure you’re not just flirting? Like a little kid annoying their crush?” she jokes, partially to save her from embarrassment, partially to hide the racing of her heart from your attention.

“Could be. But at least I’m not the one avoiding the question,” you joke back, and when she doesn’t answer again, you push, “nothing to say about that, beautiful?” Her eyes go to her lap as she shakes her head, another poor attempt to hide the clear effect you have on her. For now, you’ll just ignore the feeling of her leaning slightly closer to you and try to still your rapid heartbeat.

—☽—

In a desperate attempt to see who owns this magnificent bike, Melissa stays in the parking lot, loitering by fiddling with her purse to not raise suspicion. She immediately ignores Gregory and Mr. Morton, knowing they’re too stiff to ever consider getting on a motorcycle, let alone this one. As she sits there on her phone, after fifteen minutes of waiting, a familiar hum starts up and the bike is moving out of the lot.

That jacket. Patches cover nearly all visible space, even a little Eagles one next to a custom Abbott patch. Even with the helmet obscuring your face, without the jacket, she’d know you anywhere. Immediately, she starts to move, putting her car in drive as she pulls out of the lot the same way you did, conveniently the same direction she needed to go.

With a stroke of luck, she pulls into a lane next to you at a busy red light, rolling down her passenger side window, “aye! Why did you say shit about you having the bike?”

You push up your visor, yelling over the motor and traffic, “air of mystery!”

“Bullshit!”

“Guessing you want a ride, huh, gorgeous?” You can’t even contain your grin as you watch her eyes widen, flicking to the red light that has still yet to turn. Little do you know her mind is screaming and your cocky little smile isn’t helping one bit.

She swallows the lump in her throat, “follow me to my place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say as you flip your visor back down, glad to be able to cover your face as you smile so hard you narrowly avoid missing the light turning green. It doesn’t take long to fall into line behind Melissa, cutting into a tiny space that earns you a deserved honk from the old man behind you.

It’s less than twenty minutes before Melissa’s blinker directs you into her driveway. You walk it slowly next to her car, keeping the engine running as you take off your helmet. Melissa gets out of her car, abandoning her purse in the seat next to her, and stands nervously by the hood as she plays with her sleeves. Suddenly the thought of being one the motorcycle, pressed against your back, sounds so good she’s afraid she’ll ruin it somehow.

Your voice cuts off her brain’s nervous rambling, “I’ve only got the one helmet with me. So, you’ll wear that, and we’ll stick to the side streets.”

“No highway,” she grumbles as she steps closer.

Your nose scrunches as you laugh at her pout, “no highway and nothing over forty, cross my heart.” Holding out your pinky, she begrudgingly takes it while ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “You’re gonna wanna tie your hair back, low bun, braid, something like that.”

“Ponytail?” she asks, pretending she doesn’t care that your pinkies are still wrapped around one another.

“Nope, it’ll just tangle. And we can’t have anything happening to that beautiful hair,” you subconsciously pull her hand closer and draw her in. Her finger tightens around yours in return. When her neighbor pulls into their driveway, their car door shutting loudly disrupts the quiet between you two, making you both pull away.

Instead of speaking of it, you both fiddle to get ready for a ride around the block or down to the corner store. Melissa faces away from you to tie her hair into a tight low bun, she takes deep breaths to calm herself from the sheer proximity to you. Behind her, you fiddle with the clasps of the helmet to fit her better.

When she turns to face you again, you motion for her to get closer and her eyes almost bulge out her head. Melissa slowly approaches you as her fingers tangle around themselves. You lift the helmet in silent question, and she nods. Carefully, trying to touch her as little as possible, you help get the helmet on without pulling her hair.

You open the visor before you adjust the chin strap, “feel good? Secure?”

“It’s comfier than I thought,” her voice comes out slightly muffled by the guard in front of her lips. Melissa prays you can’t hear her fast breaths, completely overwhelmed by your scent surrounding her.

“Good,” you smile, “I’ll back her up onto the street, then you can hop on.”

Once you’ve got the kickstand down so it’s as stable as possible for her to get on, you offer a hand as support. Melissa slowly places her hand in yours, the squeeze she receives tells her trust me, I won’t let you get hurt. Using the footrest, she gets herself over the seat to straddle it behind you. Manicured hands flex open and close behind your back as she becomes unsure of where to put them.

“There’s handles, slightly behind you, that you can hold onto,” speaking loudly over the motor. You turn over your shoulder to meet your eyes with hers, “or, if you wanna, you can hold onto me. Whatever’s your preference.”

To save face, she rolls her eyes, “just want my hands on you, don’t you now?”

“Can’t call you a liar for that one,” you say with a smug grin, turning back to lean the bike upright and put up the kickstand. The second you start to move, Melissa’s arms go tightly around your waist, white knuckling your jacket.

Feeling her holding you was only so pleasant until you realized it was mostly from fear. Before taking off slowly, you pat her hand where it rests on your abdomen. It only grips tighter in return. Taking your foot off the ground and beginning to move, feeling more careful in every move you make as to not make Melissa more nervous than she was. It was surprising really, that Melissa Schemmenti of all people was nervous on a motorcycle.

Her grip starts to loosen after the third or fourth turn, but her arms don’t move. Melissa almost rests her head against your back, but decides against it in a sudden judgment. When the moment comes where she feels comfortable, she releases one arm from her hold on you to push the visor back up to have an unobstructed view of the Philly streets and your reflection in the mirrors.

When you finally slow down, it’s six blocks over at her favorite corner store, they’ve got the best hoagie options. She uses your shoulders and the hand you placed out for her to get down from the bike, legs numb from the vibrations of the bike and motor against her thighs. You’re quick to get off, helping her get the helmet off and fixing the little strands of hair that stick up from static. Neither of you mention Melissa’s rosy cheeks or your lingering caress along her bangs.

The small shop leaves little room to roam about, and you stay closely pressed to Melissa’s back as you maneuver to the counter to order food to bring back to her house. With the warmth radiating off of you, she now understands how you felt the whole ride. She knows how you feel about her, it’s a mirror of the ache in her chest for you, and feeling you against her has her heart pounding in time with yours.

From around her waist, comes your arm, offering the cashier a twenty dollar bill. Your other hand rests against Melissa’s hip, holding your wallet open for the change. This has to be some sort of revenge for holding you, she thinks to herself.

As you slowly pull into her driveway, there’s an air of unsureness around the two of you. Stepping off the bike again, you fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to invite yourself into her home. Melissa tugs at the ends of her sleeves as she plans her next words.

“Do you wanna come in, have a beer with those hoagies?” Melissa offers with a hopeful tone.

You smile as you grab the helmet from you, clipping over the little strap on the seat. She takes the hint and walks towards the door with you closely behind her. Inside, without the jacket and boots on, Melissa thinks you look soft. Everything about you is so careful with her, even when you wear worn leather with chains, this dressed down version matches the treatment she always receives.

Sitting across from her at the island, you answer all her questions about how you got the bike, how you maintain it, how you learned all the tricks to keep it running.

“Seriously, that thing’s how old and still going that strong?” she asks through a mouthful of capicola.

“It’s thirty now, it’s a 1992. Harleys are just built to last longer than the actual biker at this point, especially the older models,” you take a swig of beer, “the Daytona was too good to pass up. I got it so cheap and the guy barely had miles on it.”

Melissa perks up, “how much?”

“Thirty-five hundred. Stupid cheap, he could’ve easily gotten ten.”

She smirks, “and you just let him trick himself out of the money?”

“Duh,” you say. There’s a beat of silence before you both start to laugh, leaning into one another over the table.

—☽—

The sun set some time between finishing the hoagies and the third episode of The Real Housewives she roped you into watching. She claimed it was only fair considering she willingly got on the motorcycle. What had started with you two on different cushions quickly became you being pressed against each other, your arm taking residence behind her, but never touching her as you always kept it.

In a strange moment of bravado, Melissa leans against the back cushion and your arm dips into the slope, falling gently around your shoulders. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep a straight face, adjusting your arm to have your hand rest on her shoulder. It doesn’t take long before your fingers begin to draw nonsensical patterns over her shirt. Time passes, episodes go on, and Melissa’s weight starts to fall more into you. Every passing second you become more aware that you don’t want to leave this position as long as you live.

The screen turns black, Are you still watching? appears across it, behind the words, a reflection of the two of you. Your gaze dips down, immediately meeting Melissa’s looking up at you. Green eyes flick to your lips, and for the first time, you know for a fact that you are not imagining it. Her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, capturing your attention. Eyes meet and it’s so quick, neither of you can tell who starts it.

Melissa’s lips taste like light beer and strawberry chapstick, and her tongue is dominating and soft. Her hands grip tightly at the base of your neck, keeping you close to her like you would disappear if your lips left hers. Your hands take residence on her waist, like they had hours ago, and the warmth of her skin under her shirt is screaming your name, begging to be touched.

Tongues clash against one another, sticky lips clumsy as air becomes a necessity. Barely taking your lips off her skin, you trail downwards to her jaw, placing wet kisses along it. The hands on her waist push up and make their way beneath her shirt, gently squeezing her warm, supple body. The feeling of your soft hands holding her makes Melissa groan, tugging you back to her wanting lips.

All she’s wanted since the moment she met you, to hold you, kiss you, touch you, it’s all happening and she can barely find it in her to stop. She never wants it to. With your teeth tugging at her bottom lip, a borderline moan escapes her, and she feels you smile against her mouth and it’s all she can think about. Melissa is completely putty in your hands.

Without breaking the distance between you, you pull away from her lips slowly. Heaving breaths escape both of you, lips swollen and pupils dilated from lust. Melissa’s hand traces from the back of your neck to the chain of your necklace dangling in front of her, looping it around her finger to pull you in closer. Your lips graze over hers, but her words fill the space before they can touch.

“What if I asked you to take me upstairs?”

Your thumb brushes over her ribs, “then I would.”

The door handle almost puts a hole in the wall with the way Melissa shoves it open behind her as you walk her backwards towards her room. Her hands drop from your face to the hem of her shirt, beginning to pull it up before your hands take over. As you step away to throw her shirt off to the side, your eyes drop and a soft look comes over your features.

Stepping into her space again, your fingers trace over her skin, “you’re so beautiful.” It’s barely above a whisper, she barely hears it, barely even sure you’re aware you’ve said it.

Melissa’s only response is to kiss you again, pulling you towards her bed until she topples onto it, taking you with her. Your thighs straddle her as you tug off your own shirt, bending down to continue ravishing her. You kiss down from her lips, to her jaw, to the dip at the base of her neck, then trace your tongue back up. Cold hands grab yours, pulling them down to the button of her jeans.

“Are you sure?” you ask from above her, free hand pushing baby hairs from her blushing face. She only nods, not trusting her words. You shake your head lightly, a little smile on your lips, “I’m gonna need a real answer, lovely.”

Lovely, that’s a new one. She feels her face warm under your gaze, arousal pooling. With the strength she can muster, she utters, “please.”

Without a moment to spare, your lips are on hers again, hand at her waist moving to unbutton her pants. As you help push them down, your hand passes her panties, the dark patch of wetness calling to you. It only invigorates you as you let go of her lips, kissing down to her chest. Arching forward, she makes space for your wandering hands to slip behind and unclasp her bra.

A breathless mumble of God leaves your lips, before soft kisses are pressed to her sternum, skim over to her breast. You kiss her skin with a reverence she’s never felt, teeth graze over her hardened nipple before your lips wrap around it, tongue swirling. The unattended breast begs for attention that is quickly given by your hand, rolling the bud between your fingers.

The warm hand at her waist grips down to her thigh, pushing her legs open to make space for you to lie. Your mouth and hand switch, equal, worship-like attention given to each breast. Melissa’s quiet, hidden moans become louder, hips shifting for pressure against yours. Taking the hint, your lips travel lower, licking over her abdomen and gently biting when she tugs at your hair.

One hand wraps around her thigh, the other keeps her in place as a weight against her stomach. Pressing wet kisses to her thigh, you look at her for permission to continue. The image of you between her legs, lips on her wet thighs, eyes shining with want, all she can manage is bucking her hips towards you, a whine escaping her lips.

One last kiss is placed against plush skin, Melissa’s hand tangles with yours, interlocking fingers feeling like they belong there. Your warm, wet tongue glides over her slit, up and down in slow figure-eights, her little gasps only egging you on. Flattening your tongue, you press harder against her, tasting her more fully, groaning against her in satifaction. It makes sense why Eve would so easily give everything for a mere taste of the forbidden fruit. Sweet and warm, divine heaven on your lips.

Melissa hips buck into your face, begging for more and you are more than willing to give. You lick up to her clit, the pearl demanding attention from you. Small, circular motions with your tongue make Melissa groan, slapping a hand over her mouth as she gets closer and closer to her peak.

You lift away from clit, much to her dismay, “don’t do that.” The hand on her stomach moves to pull her hand away from her mouth, “I want to hear you… please.”

Her hand drops to the sheets beside her, and your mouth is back on her. Sucking harder against her, your hand slides down her abdomen and positions in front of her blooming lips. Your middle finger presses into her slick walls, forcing a moan from both of you. With a few gentle pushes and pulls, you slowly ease in your ring finger, making her clench tightly.

Red nails dig into your hair, tugging as Melissa writhes above you. Husky moans and whines fill the room, pleas of faster and yes, yes are burned into your mind, a melody you won’t dare forget.

You pull off of her clit to take a breath and speak, “can you take more, baby?”

“Please,” she says through pants. The hand in your hair tug you up to her lips, “please.” Her desperate grasp is not willing to let you go, claw-like nails digging into your back.

Lips dancing as you shift your hand to put your thumb to her clit, lining your forefinger to her pussy. Melissa’s jaw drops as the third finger stretches her more, the moan that rips through her is felt by your lips on her neck. You keep a steady rhythm of circling her clit and pumping your fingers into her. Her moans turn to pitched whines, walls hugging your fingers, she was so close. You kiss down her neck, sucking little marks that will fade by morning, taking your time on her breasts and lower stomach. Reaching her clit again, suck it into your mouth as you speed your fingers’ pace.

Frantic hips begin to still, a whine leaving her plump lips as she cums around your fingers. Your attention leaves her clit to travel down her lips as you slowly pump your fingers, removing one by one as she comes down. Shaking thighs relax against the bed as you clean her with your tongue, nectar of the goddess being all the reward you need. She pulls lightly at your hand on her thigh, begging for your lips on hers.

Pressing a final kiss to her pearl, then thigh, you capture her lips in a slow kiss, soft and full of the love that had been hiding under every interaction since you’d first met. When you pull away, you bring your fingers to her lips to give her a proper taste of herself. Accepting the offer, her tongue swirls around the digits. You internally scold yourself for being jealous of your own hand, even the string of saliva that connects her heavenly mouth to your fingers.

You shift to cup her cheek, admiring her droopy eyes and blushing cheeks, the sheen of sweat over her forehead. Her own hand mirrors your movement, pulling you down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“You are so- too good at that,” she mumbles against your cheek, feeling the vibration of your laugh.

You press a kiss to her cheek before flopping next to her, “you, you taste too good.”

Her hand comes to cover her face, but you’re quick to catch it, bringing it closer to kiss the back. Melissa chuckles as you nibble on the knuckle of her pinkie, but she frowns as you roll off the bed. Emerald eyes follow you to the ensuite bathroom, and back as you go back between her legs with a warm washcloth. The featherlike touch and soft kisses to her skin only further the blush on her cheeks.

After discarding the rag and tugging off your jeans, you lay down next to her on your side, eyes scanning over her face. Her head turns to you, enjoying the quiet between you, even more so when your pointer finger traces her features and takes special attention to her lips. Lipstick smudged around her chin, surely on your face as well, and messy eyeliner, she’s never been quite so beautiful.

The gentle ministrations and loving attention make Melissa’s eyes grow heavy, sleep grasping at her despite the fight to stay in your presence. Feeling her relaxing into you, you shift to lay on your back, arm out inviting her into your embrace. Lazily rolling into you, her face tucks into your neck, hand searching for yours.

You tangle your fingers together and whisper into the air, “I think it goes without saying, but I’m stupid in love with you. Everything about you. Just thought you should know.”

“Good thing,” she says through a yawn as she shifts more into you, “because I’m stupid in love with you, too.” 

You press a kiss into her hair, “go to sleep, pretty girl. I’ll be here in the morning, if you want.”

“Of course I want,” it’s barely audible, but you can tell she means it.

The scent of sex, sweat, and eucalyptus body wash radiates from her, underneath it all is a smell that’s so uniquely Melissa that you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress. It feels easy, being with her, it makes sense. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, you recount every time you should have spoken up about your feelings. Surely there could have been a time, but none seem to come to mind. It only makes sense that this is how it was supposed to happen. In her bed, on this day, with the taste of lager on her tongue, you were meant to find your way together.

title from beauty school by deftones

one day i’ll write a shorter fic like i planned in my head

feedback appreciated as always <3

[appleflavoredkitkats]

finally, after a gruelling one month, sonic 3 released in the philippines. i have Finally watched it, and even if it’s been only a day, i have a Lot to say about stobotnik— not necessarily from the movie, i feel like we discussed that enough, but moreso what i hope to see for stobotnik in future movies.

for the past weeks before i watched sonic 3, i read up on people desperately wanting villain!stone for sonic 4. this seems to win the popular vote on what should happen with stone next movie, and as someone who wanted stone to go batshit as well, i definitely liked reading all the different ideas for it. BUT, and this is a big but, i do think there needs to be more considerations when it comes to stone if we do want to see him as such.

for starters, a popular take is that stone should cope with grief Badly, which makes him vindictive of the main team. while i think this is funny and has a lot of merit for fanwork, i do think this risks repeating the themes of sonic 3. particularly, the entire movie IS about grief and how to cope with such, about shying away from revenge as a foolproof way of responding to grief. not to say that stone wouldn’t cope well, but i do think, narratively and thematically, it would be smarter to move away from a movie plot that literally has been done.

i genuinely wouldn’t want the movie to end with another “i shouldn’t do things out of revenge!” since we literally Saw that. moreover, i think we need to give more merit to stone and robotnik’s relationship that stone would understand the nuance and meaning to robotnik’s final sacrifice. of course that is a tall order, especially considering the sudden grief, but i think we forget also how dedicated stone is to robotnik. he WOULD respect and do what he thinks robotnik was trying to impart in the last scenes. not to mention as well, stone has no reason to target the main team in particular when he explicitly mentions in the movie that this plan was dangerous because of gerald, NOT sonic.

but. i DO think there could be a way we can have villain!stone in the next movie, because i do think he could play a narratively antagonistic role. i’ve been arguing that the next movie’s central theme could potentially be related to identity, especially since we got metal sonic and amy being introduced. if stone assumes a villainous role (and possibly created or activated metal sonic), i think he should be doing it not because of grief, but rather he wants to assume the legacy the doctor left behind. because, well, who is he if not robotnik’s henchman?

if he gets “revenge” or attacks sonic again, i don’t think it should be out of revenge. there should be something logical to it, possibly some conflict i can’t foresee, but it should have something to do with stone going, “well i think the doctor would do this, so i’m gonna try my best emulating such”. i know it sounds very similar to the “think about maria” plotline, but my take is that stone, again, isn’t doing this for vengeance, but moreso objectively tries picking up what robotnik left behind. (which, he would. of course he knows what the doctor would want.)

this especially can distinguish itself from sonic 3 IF the end of his arc would tie into identity, about stone figuring out what he himself would want independent of robotnik. this also ties in well with metal sonic and amy’s presence in sonic 4, because on one hand, we have metal sonic, which is self-explanatorily a “better” version of sonic. not only does sonic have to examine his own identity, but imagine if metal was made in service of either stone or GUN, and gains sentience and wants to be their own person. isn't that just a neat parallel to stone? then, on the other, we have amy, who is written originally to be whatever the opposite to a bechdel test is. of course, amy’s developed to be so much more, but i think it would be interesting for them to tackle it explicitly in the movies, whether it is through amy undergoing her own conflict or amy being the person who helps the others realize what it means to be their own person.

all to say, villain!stone shouldn’t be a grief allegory but an identity one. the line is very thin, but i think it’s okay as long as the underlying question is “who am i without robotnik?” and not “what should i do to avenge his death?”.

(also, had the idea that if stone build or helped build metal sonic, imagine if he also tried making a robot!robotnik haha as if haha)

another consideration i had is that, if stone only plays an antagonistic role, meaning he isn’t an active villain but merely an opposing force against the team next movie, i think it should come from some sort of misunderstanding. this definitely has to include GUN in some way, because i feel like rockwell was underutilized, and the weapon in the sky thing was definitely not addressed. perhaps stone’s evil plan ISN’T to hurt the main team but rather abolish GUN, but GUN employs and tricks the main team to think stone is doing something villainous against them.

if this is the case, i do think another central theme to consider is the entire megamind nature vs nurture debacle, what does it mean to be a good or bad person? one way i can see them going about this is the team questioning why stone is so down bad for robotnik, only to reveal that robotnik’s more nuanced that he is, which only stone understands because he identifies himself in robotnik (thanks lee majdoub). this also ties in well with metal sonic defying his original purpose, but i am not quite sure how amy ties into it but it’s not impossible to connect her to this plotline anyway. shadow could potentially have a role in this too, of what it means to do good after all he did wrong.

also hoping this movie ends with an anti-military moral. like everything is nuanced except the military <3 the military is what caused both gerald and robotnik to go batshit so.

and oh god stobotnik, okay i’ve gone so far talking about stone without talking about stobotnik, but i have two suggestions, especially considering jim carrey’s possible return: he is dead (with emotional considerations), or he is alive (with domestic considerations). hold on let me explain.

i will. absolutely hate it if robotnik turns out to be alive if and only if it’s shown at the beginning of sonic 4, and he assumes the role of main villain again. we've had ENOUGH, we already got to finish the entire 360 for his arc and what a shame it would be if he returns with the importance of his sacrifice to be taken away. yes, i hate that robotnik died as a person who loved him, but also his death is is really good story and writing-wise.

i think. i think if he comes back to life, it needs to be done 1.) at the end of sonic 4, and 2.) to conclude the stobotnik storyline once and for all. considering the suggestions i previously made, if robotnik were alive, i think it would be a more powerful punch if stone meets robotnik AFTER his own character arcs, and they come back as two wholes. after, i don’t think we shouldn’t see stobotnik again for future installations, but considering there would be 6-10 sonic movies i think it’s important to at least lay off making stobotnik the main villains or at least side antagonists for a while. i think they could have little cameos at least, possibly helping the characters or trying their best to acclimate to domestic life. you choose!

but if robotnik were permanently dead, i do think his appearance in a future film would be a flashback or memory, of stone remembering a time where he and robotnik were doing something that made stone realize how much robotnik loved him. something more intimate, something with the expected goofiness but with underlying tenderness. perhaps he left a final video message, perhaps there’s a scene which is very steven universe rose’s scabbard-esque (if you know you know).

also, this isn’t even considering the possibility of a into the sonicverse or time travel type scenario where there is a possibility of bringing robotnik back from other dimensions, because that in on itself is such a big plot possibility with a lot of implications for other characters that i won’t entertain it for now in this post. but it is definitely possible!

i’ve also considered the possibility that… maybe stone and robotnik wouldn’t appear in the next movie too! which. i’m not against if they bring it up in the fifth movie instead, because i delusionally believe silver and blaze will get introduced and that opens a whole can of worms for what other stobotnik possibilities could exist. 

but anyways those are my main thoughts, feel free to add on if you’d like to. i just needed to rebut all the “stone should be a senseless villain against sonic and team next movie” ideas. but you’re free to explore that anyway in fanwork lol, i think it’s fun.

[wintersoulwitch]

Stage/Fright report

Spoilers spoilers spoilers

Here are my observations and impressions and as many details as I can remember after my first viewing of Stage/Fright. All written up while waiting for my train home, so pardon any inconsistent grammar etc etc

Right holy shit that was so For The Fans it’s not even funny - yet also entertaining enough for people who had never watched the show which is a hard balance to pull off (but if anyone can rise to a challenge like that, it’s Pembersmith)

First of all I was so chuffed that they started with material from the ‘theatre audience’ unfilmed episode (whoo, one of my predictions!) And the fact that it was Hamlet - nice TLOG nod.

Reece and Steve both looked amazing in this first section. Reece didn’t have a wig and was in an unfussy shirt/jumper/blazer combo. I was in the front row so I was taking the opportunity to soak it up.

And Steve looked great as well! Like, I personally think Steve’s best IN9 looks are Sphinx & Trolley Problem so what I’m saying is: Silver Fox. And in this section he has a thick white wig and a blue jacket that sets off his colouring very nicely indeed.

The story was great - some classic Pembersmith comedy dialogue with malapropisms (“I don’t want him to have a prophylactic shock”) and the whole Reece-as-uptight-Englishman-growing-increasingly-irate-at-ill-mannered-people-around-him

(Also, descriptions of the two actors on stage: “One of them’s rather pudgy, like Uncle Gerald. The other one looks like a homosexual” 🤔)

Steve was so funny as a loud, boorish businessman talking on the phone, texting and using his laptop during the play. There was a nice visual gag where Steve was using speech-to-text and the text messages were projected on a mesh at the front of the stage, but everything was mangled eg “Hope that’s OK” being rendered as “Ho that’s so gay.”

And then - murder!

Reece goes on a little murder spree - poisoning an old man with peanuts (his deathly allergy having already been seeded), pouring water over Steve’s laptop charger so he’s electrocuted, and smashing a noisy woman round the head with a metal canteen.

The sketch ends with Reece saying “Ladies and gentlemen may I remind you you’re in a theatre - no coughing, no eating and no mobile phones.”

Omg the violinists! There were live violinists playing an extended version of the IN9 theme song - each standing in a box either side of the stage. They were dramatically lit so that they cast long shadows which melded with shadows and dust projected onto the stage curtain.

After that, Reece and Steve came to the front of the stage as themselves and welcomed us to the show with some banter

Reece: The beautiful Wyndham’s Theatre which we believe is haunted

Steve: Well - YOU believe it’s haunted. I think it’s bollocks.

Ok so we set up the tension of Team Believer vs Team Skeptic. Reece explains that the scene we’ve just watched was a true story. During a production of Hamlet the theatregoer Mr Dowling had been taken over by ‘a strange presence.’

Steve: He then ran into the grand circle and tried to toss himself off. Another thing which is forbidden by the theatre management

(Ushers hold up “no masturbating” signs)

Steve says that grief can do funny things to the brain and make you see things that aren’t there…

Reece talks about ‘la Terreur de l’asile’ Terror at the Asylum. The lead actress was accidentally killed on stage, and her ghost - Bloody Belle - haunts the stage and so Wyndham’s is a cursed theatre, where terrible people things happen.

Steve: And anyone who saw Kenneth Branagh’s King Lear here a couple of years ago will know exactly what we mean.

They introduce ‘the ghost light’ - which you keep on stage when the theatre is empty. Either to appease the spirits or to keep them away.

Steve suggests that maybe Mr Dowling saw his late wife’s ghost on stage instead of Hamlet’s father. “For what is a ghost but a memory? A way of keeping a loved one’s memory alive? Maybe every ghost story is really just a love story.”

Reece then tries to sneak off stage for a costume change, Steve was supposed to have ‘written something funny’ to cover it and not draw attention to him leaving.

Steve vamps for a bit and gets the audience to chant “Bloody Belle” three times to summon her to prove that the superstition is bollocks. He then says that seat F9 in the stalls is haunted and a spotlight appears (poor member of the public in that seat, ha)

I thought BCDR would be referenced and I actually rewatched it the night before the show so that it was fresh in my memory. Well. What I didn’t expect was that they would PERFORM THE WHOLE FREAKING EPISODE LIVE IN FRONT OF ME. WTF LADS.

As soon as the opening music started I recognised it instantly and was like “Ohhhh!” I thought we would get a short scene but it just kept going!

It was an interesting experience to see the episode played out live - the whole communal thing, the way jokes are funnier in a crowd. Normally I watch IN9 on my laptop sitting on my bed all by myself so it was nice to share it!

I won’t go over the whole thing beat by beat. But some things I noticed…

- The cups! They had the blue and yellow cups!

- When Len makes the tea I don’t think he put whiskey in his cup, he drank from a hip flask and Tommy didn’t see

- Len’s mime bit with his arm in the coat was more developed. Early on Len holds up his hand and points to a (n imaginary) wedding ring. The fake figure is much more aggressive with Len, grabbing his face for a snog

- I noticed the mime arm was wearing a big sparkly ring, which reappears later in the show

- The “Drake and Shelby” / “Shelby and Drake” bit goes on longer, which definitely made it funnier.

- When Len did the spit take at the end of the vent sketch I was really worried that I was going to get sprayed. (I did not get sprayed)

- Joe Pasquale ‘he’s 63!’

- The wall for Brown Bottles has ‘Thatcher Out!’ graffiti’d on it

- The Brown Bottles music is different from the one in the TV show - it’s the traditional 10 brown bottles song rather than the similar-but-distinct version, which I’m assuming was some sort of rights issue?

- They didn’t reinstate the cut dialogue (i’ve always loved you…)

- Bernie Clifton’s dressing room is retconned to have taken place at the Wyndham’s rather than the Glasgow Pavilion

- Omg the ‘you nearly died Len’ was absolutely heartstopping, and the way Reece delivered Tommy’s rant was quite different but so passionate

- When Tommy’s talking about Angry Tomato and says he has 100 people working under him, Len says ‘doesn’t that tickle?’ And fucking gooses him! Like full on slap on the arse.

- They had the same Cheese and Crackers playbill and flyer as in the episode.

- On the back of the order of service for Len’s funeral there’s the photo from Steve’s graduation from Bretton Hall.

Then there was a play-within-a-play moment, with ‘Len’ and ‘Tommy’ acting out a sketch about kidnappers that Len had written… but when it started some familiar music played… Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerti No. 2? It’s A Quiet Night In! (Except I have watched Dead Line way more times than A Quiet Night In, so my brain was adding in the distortion and ghosts)

Tommy reads out the stage directions, which are projected onto the curtain as the set is changed, and we get a sketch that is… A Quiet Night In, the Cheese and Crackers version! Ish. So we have Steve-as-Len-as-Eddie and Reece-as-Tommy-as-Ray, in the black burglar outfits.

So cool to see more of Cheese and Crackers in action! Maybe this is the kind of thing that they had in their TV series? It was really interesting to see Tommy get to be a comedic force in his own right, delivering jokes rather than just setting them up for Len as the straight man. Len did much more clowning (and was definitely sliding into Barry Baggs - to the point where I wondered if we were going to get a Lisgoe-belt-whipping moment)

They brought on their kidnap victim… someone in a paisley dressing gown and a pillowcase on his head. And they were doing charades for the person’s name… Cave-in… Held on… Kevin… wait, what? The Actor Kevin Eldon!!!! My hands flew to my mouth and I let out a scream I was SO delighted. And even more delighted that Steve continuously referred to him as The Actor Kevin Eldon (as is only right and proper! And namedropped Fist of Fun. Only thing that would have made the cook’d and bomb’d forum of my soul happier would have been a reference to a weak lemon drink.) And then I realised that another of my predictions had come true - the kidnap victim is played by a different celebrity each show. Surely a Mark Gatiss appearance is on the cards???

There were references to other episodes scattered throughout… there was a hare statue at the side of the stage, the wardrobe from Sardines, which contained a single black man’s shoe (Diddle Diddle Dumpling), a bit with the number 6 turning upside down to show a number 9 (Once Removed), the use of cockney rhyming slang (Mother’s Ruin), and the house itself is on Mulberry Close.

Something that stood out to me was the different tone of the ending. When Miranda Hennessy came in I didn’t realise she was meant to be Leanne - she seemed like a stranger to Tommy. And the hug at the end was more distant than the hug between Sian and Reece in the ep. You know - the way Tommy holds back at first and then closes his eyes and leans into the hug, and you get this sense of the connection between them? At the end of the ep I felt like Leanne and Tommy might stay in touch and (re)build a relationship, but this time I felt like Tommy was gonna disappear back to France and never look back.

Then instead of ending on Tears of Laughter it goes spoOoOoky, with the lights cutting out and the ghost light appearing on stage, some eerie crackling noises and Tommy looking into the dark calling “Len?”

Then there was a jumpscare and time for the interval.

I stood in a ridiculously slow moving queue and talked to/eavesdropped on conversations - some people were hardcore fans and some had been brought along by partners (“I’ve only watched two episodes of Inside Number 9 and they were both very scary, so I wasn’t expecting it to be so funny” and “I’ve never watched it, I don’t like the League of Gentlemen but my boyfriend does”). Limmy was in the audience tonight and I think I spotted Helen Zaltzmann as well.

The violinists were back for the start of the second half. This time there was a projection of an imposing pair of gates and a 1920s style black and white horror film titles of ‘La Terreur de l’asile / Terror at the Asylum.

Ok so this is the story that Reece and Steve mentioned at the top of the show! Miranda Hennessy and Anna Francolini are a prospective patient (Suzette) and a nurse at Dr Goudron’s asylum. Suzette is dressed in a flapper-ish style with bobbed hair and carries a large green hatbox. She’s wearing the large sparkly ring that the mime was wearing in BCDR.

The nurse has that vintage creepy nun-style nurse uniform with a big white headdress, and strangely pink skin all around her eyes and cheeks. The set has a barber’s chair covered in a sheet (which twitched as if to suggest someone was already sitting in it), there was a bloody saw on the wall and shelves with jars containing various fluids and lumps (Love is a Stranger ref?)

Reece comes on playing a mad scientist type, with a mallen streak and a twirly moustache. He was obviously revelling in it, doing some scenery chewing with lines like “What’s to be gained if they won’t stay awake while I operate on them?” and “I ate them! I ate them up! He sees inside me! He sees everything inside me!”

Reece also performed some of The Elements Song! So random but I loved it.

Turns out that Reece’s character Hugo is an inmate at the asylum, not Dr Goudron at all! The real Dr Goudron - Steve in a white lab coat, coiffed brown wig, and painted on eyebags - appears and Hugo is taken away.

Steve does a turn as a slimy, predatory doctor (Trolley Problem and indeed Sphinx echoes) and recommends trepanation to fix the young woman’s migraines.

Steve: With my methods you won’t feel a thing…

He reveals a bit more detail about his wife’s Unfortunate Demise. (“Her head was never found…” dramatic spotlight on the hatbox)

Then Reece returns, this time being pushed in an old-fashioned wheelchair. Dr Goudron explains that he conducts anaesthesia free surgery through deep hypnosis. He hypnotises Hugo (“I have complete control over his mind and body”), and states that while he’s in the trance he can feel no pain. He demonstrates this by taking a scalpel and slicing Hugo’s face, making it bleed (like Devil of Winter- no, wait, that’s not Inside No 9)

Goudron then asks the nurse to fetch the bonesaw, and asks Hugo to amputate his own left leg below the knee. We’re then treated to the sight of Reece hacking through his own leg and removing it. (I could see his real leg within the chair but it I imagine the illusion looked quite convincing for people further back). He’s then brought out of the trance and we get some patented Reece-in-agonising-pain screams and he’s wheeled away to have the wound cauterised.

Suzette tries to leave and Evil Steve is unleashed.

Suzette: If i could just change back into my clothes…

Steve: No. I’m afraid that won’t be possible.

Suzette: You ravaged her???

Steve: Well as much as one can ever ravage a creature in such a catatonic state… As you will soon find out my dear, after your own surgery has been completed

Things begin to escalate, Dr Goudron reveals he murdered his wife after she caught him ‘in a compromising position’ with a catatonic inmate. Suzette threatens to douse her own face in acid, instead throwing it at the nurse’s face. There’s some nicely gory sfx makeup as half the nurse’s face melts and her eyeball sticks to her hand and comes away, still attached to the optic nerve.

But then! Gaby French appears in an usher’s uniform bearing a coffee order.

Turns out everything we’ve just seen is a rehearsal for a stage play - a performance of Terror at the Asylum to be held at the Wyndham’s. Reece’s character is Markus the Director who berates Gaby’s character Abbie from Front of House for destroying all the tension they’ve built up.

Turns out that the lead is a pop star, Sherry. Steve’s character is Vince, the leading man and a classically trained actor (who likes to do the Guardian Cryptic - Sphinx). He’s frustrated that a leading role in the West End has gone to Sherry, “some bimbo from a girl band”

Reece: It’s not about your CV any more, it’s about how many followers you have on Instagram

Sherry and Abbie have a chat. Sherry has an upcoming audition for series 2 of ‘that Divine Comedy Thing on Amazon’ and if she gets it she’ll have some good scenes with Tim Key (Simon Says/Plodding On).

Abbie reveals that she doesn’t get many auditions - Sherry thinks that’s weird cos she gets “loads” and she’s “not even an actress! Haha!” Some of R&S’s feelings about stunt casting coming through, hmm? Sherry recommends Abbie asks Markus if she can understudy her.

Markus goes through his notes for the actors. There’s some funny bits about bad acting and method acting and fragile egos (Markus’ notes to himself are simply ‘two ticks.’)

The stage is then deconstructed, the naturalistic doctor’s office breaking into modular units and a huge LED screen lifting up. One of the actors comes on with a Steadicam. We’ve gone from early 20th century horror to the cutting edge of digital tech.

Reece: We illuminate the present as well as the past

Steve: But it’s so hackneyed now, you can’t walk down Shaftesbury Avenue without bumping into some cunt with a camcorder filming actors mincing out of the stage door

The steadicam gives a closeup of Sherry, her face is shown in greyscale on the huge screen. They’re going to rehearse the trepanning scene. Everyone acts even more expressionistically and hammy than before with maniacal devilish laughter etc etc. Eventually Markus halts the proceedings and says they need “a gear shift.”

Markus: Let’s make them wonder if Sherry herself has died!

Sherry lies motionless in the chair… is she dead? There’s a long pause… no she was just practicing her dead face.

Then Steve starts talking in his own voice (not the plummy accent he uses for Vince) about Daniel Day Lewis playing Hamlet and walking off stage because he thought he saw his (dead) father on the stage. And then he gives Reece a long, lingering hug, and walks off stage. There’s a moment… huh, what was that about?… and then we’re back in the fiction of the play.

Abbie tells the ensemble about the legend of Bloody Belle - she was playing the role of Suzette 100 years ago and died on this very stage. The prop drill malfunctioned and a six inch spike was drive into her brain. At this point Abbie is standing in the stalls, leaning on the stage, with the camera pointed at her. The scene is bathed in red now, and some of the faces of people in the front row can be seen (including mine during this performance, whoo)

The theatre is now haunted and if someone sees the ghost they become possessed and someone in the company dies. Sherry is appalled that no one warned her about this and storms off.

(Also the offstage tech is called Kevin - I’m guessing this changes with the name of the celebrity guest?)

Later, Sherry is backstage practicing her audition lines for Ninth Circle. Abbie comes to help her with the self tape. The big screen is used again, this time displaying the view through Abby’s camera. Sherry goes through her lines and suddenly there’s A SHAPE AND MOVEMENT in the background. Abbie freaks out and goes to investigate. They rewind the tape to see if they can spot anything. The sound design during this section is lovely and atmospheric, and reminiscent of Dead Line’s musique concrète chorus of electrical hums and sinister drones.

Abbie disappears and Sherry picks up the camera and goes offstage, down the stairs and into the bowels of the theatre. This whole bit is very Dead Line, with human-like shadows/ghostly apparitions, a POV camera with heavy breathing, and a wander through a server room with metal fences etc etc. I was half expecting Steve to scream “jumpscare!” while wearing a rubber mask. That doesn’t happen - but Sherry finds The Hat Box from earlier. It’s illuminated in a spotlight. She opens the box and inside is… the hare!

Suddenly a severed head is dropped from the rafters and lands on stage. Sherry returns, finds the head, and says “Fuck this shit! I’m not putting up with this!” The tension and the spooky atmosphere continues as Sherry protests that she’s not afraid. But suddenly… here comes Bloody Belle!

Markus’ voice comes over the PA “Well done. Great performance. No notes.”

Bloody Belle is revealed to be Abbie. Markus had cooked up a plan to scare Sherry away and force her to quit the play. Abbie says that Markus is “getting off on this,” he says yeah, this is real drama. And it’s “scarier than the actual play.” Abbie asks why doesn’t he “just stage this”?

Reece: What - a Ghost Story with a pop star in the cast? That’ll never work!

Markus thinks the social media chatter about Sherry quitting the “haunted play” will guarantee a sellout show and an extension to the summer. And he plans to recast her with a “proper actress.” Anyone in mind? Yes… Sheridan Smith!

He offers Abbie the opportunity to understudy for Madame Goudron’s ghost. “A bit of skin work… Speaking of which…”

Oh no, he’s a sleazy predator too. Markus starts stroking Abbie’s arms and suggests she comes back to his place. Abbie snaps his neck and he dies. She looks up to the box and whispers ‘thank you.’ Bloody Belle appears and lets out a shriek!

The end!

The company come out to take their bows. There’s a standing ovation. But hang on. When Reece stood up… he���s not Reece anymore? It’s some other guy in the Markus wig and costume? Huh?

Steve says he wants to apologise for walking out of the scene earlier.

Steve: As you can imagine it’s been a very difficult few days and weeks for us as a company. And for me in particular. You probably know that I recently lost my writing partner - the cheese to my crackers. But also my best friend. We’d written this play together, me and Reece. And it said so much about our love of comedy, our love of ghosts and horror stories, and I suppose the difficulty of saying goodbye to someone. So I wanted to honour him with this production. Toby stepped in, who is Reece’s understudy-

(After scattered laughter throughout the speech, there was a big laugh here as any remaining pennies dropped.)

Steve praises Toby’s performance and reveals that sometimes he looked at Toby on stage and “I just saw Reece.”

Then they project Reece’s favourite photo of himself with the text “Reece Shearsmith 1969-2025” on the LED screen

(A missed opportunity to use Paddington Bear Man Dies.)

OK NOW it’s the end.

The cast leave the stage… but the mics are still on. We can hear Steve talking with some of the cast and crew. He says he’s going back on stage to get his mic pack off. The stage manager tells him not to because they’re moving the lighting rig.

“I just need some space, alright?!” cries Steve, heading back onto the stage as the curtain comes down.

Then there’s a crash and a smash! A scream and worried cries of “Steve!” An ambulance siren…

The curtain comes up, Steve is lying on the stage with a theatre light on the ground by his head. Reece appears, all dressed in white, holding two paper cups of coffee. (Two lattes from Planet Organic?) Steve wakes up.

Reece: Here he is! I got you a coffee. Just like old times, you lying on the floor, pretending to be dead. And now you are dead.

Steve:…Toby?

Reece: No, it’s not fucking Toby!

Steve is dead because he summoned Bloody Belle, and Reece fell through the trapdoor in rehearsals and broke his neck.

(And then i was like - is this why Reece hasn’t posted on BlueSky for a while?? Committing to the bit, will he keep it going for the whole run?)

Steve: I can’t believe the twist is that you were a ghost all along!

Reece: Pathetic. Finally ran out of ideas!

Steve wonders if he’s just had a bump on the head and is hallucinating seeing Reece because he missed him so much.

Reece: Maybe. Like you said - what is a ghost but a memory? Maybe every ghost story is really just a love story.

Now they’re going to spend eternity together haunting the Wyndham’s Theatre!

They have some classic bickering banter, Reece suggests that Jason Manford could play Steve’s part in Stage/Fright. Steve isn’t happy about this but Reece snaps back “at least he’s a name! Who’ve I got? Fucking little Toby!

And they have unfinished business… Bernie Clifton’s Dressing Room. Steve cut Tears of Laughter because he couldn’t perform it without Reece.

Reece: One last stop…

Steve: It’s not a bus is it???

And then… the boys leave the stage, some beautiful scenery with painted clouds come down from the rafters, a painted number 9, tinkly chimey music plays, the rest of the ensemble cast appear dressed in white satin and sparkles and maribou. It’s like a Golden Age of Hollywood song and dance number. Reece and Steve return dressed in matching white top hats and tails, and perform a fully choreographed big band version of Tears of Laughter, with new lyrics like:

“Come and dance with us on Cloud Nine”

The other actors leave, they say they’ll leave the ghost light on for Reece and Steve so they don’t get lonely (Til Death ref?), and then it’s just the two of them left to finish the song. For the final “laughter is my memory of YOU” they point at the audience instead of each other.

And that’s REALLY the end. You have been watching… a memorial service for Inside Number 9, and a celebration of the love between Reece and Steve transcending lifetimes and planes of existence. I wish them a very happy eternity together.

[1americanconservative]

@elonmusk

These awful people all need to be voted out, either in the primaries or the general election. They sully the Capitol Building with their presence.

THESE ARE THE 158 DEMOCRATS WHO VOTED AGAINST DEPORTING SEX OFFENDERS Alabama: -Terri Sewell California: -Pete Aguilar -Ami Bera -Julia Brownley -Salud Carbajal -Tony Cárdenas -Judy Chu -Jim Costa -Mark DeSaulnier -John Garamendi -Robert Garcia -Sylvia Garcia -Jimmy Gomez -Jared Huffman -Ro Khanna -Sydney Kamlager-Dove -Barbara Lee -Ted Lieu -Zoe Lofgren -Doris Matsui -Kevin Mullin -Grace Napolitano -Nancy Pelosi -Katie Porter -Linda Sánchez -Adam Schiff -Brad Sherman -Norma Torres -Mike Thompson -Maxine Waters Colorado: -Jason Crow -Diana DeGette -Brittany Pettersen -Joe Neguse Connecticut: -Rosa DeLauro -John Larson -James Himes Delaware: -Lisa Blunt Rochester Florida: -Kathy Castor -Sheila Cherfilus-McCormick -Lois Frankel -Maxwell Frost -Darren Soto -Frederica Wilson -Debbie Wasserman Schultz Georgia: -Sanford D. Bishop Jr. -Lucy McBath -Henry “Hank” Johnson -Nikema Williams -David Scott Hawaii: -Ed Case -Jill Tokuda Illinois: -Sean Casten -Danny Davis -Jesús “Chuy” Garcia -Jonathan Jackson -Raja Krishnamoorthi -Robin Kelly -Delia Ramirez -Janice Schakowsky -Mike Quigley -Bill Foster -Brad Schneider -Lauren Underwood Indiana: -André Carson Kentucky: -Morgan McGarvey Louisiana: -Troy Carter Maine: -Chellie Pingree Maryland: -Steny Hoyer -Glenn Ivey -Kweisi Mfume -Jamie Raskin C.A. Dutch Ruppersberger -John Sarbanes -David Trone Massachusetts: -Jake Auchincloss -Katherine Clark -Bill Keating -Seth Moulton -Ayanna Pressley -Richard Neal -Lori Trahan -James McGovern Michigan: -Dan Kildee -Debbie Dingell -Rashida Tlaib -Shri Thanedar -Haley Stevens Minnesota: -Betty McCollum -Ilhan Omar -Dean Phillips Mississippi: -Bennie Thompson Missouri: -Cori Bush -Emanuel Cleaver New Hampshire: -Ann Kuster New Jersey: -Andy Kim -Rob Menendez -Donald Norcross -Bonnie Watson Coleman -Frank Pallone New Mexico: -Melanie Stansbury -Teresa Leger Fernandez New York: -Jamaal Bowman -Adriano Espaillat -Hakeem Jeffries -Yvette Clarke -Gregory Meeks -Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez -Jerrold Nadler -Nydia Velázquez -Paul Tonko -Dan Goldman -Ritchie Torres -Grace Meng -Joseph Morelle North Carolina: -Alma Adams -Valerie Foushee -Deborah Ross Ohio: -Shontel Brown -Joyce Beatty -Greg Landsman Oregon: -Earl Blumenauer -Suzanne Bonamici -Valerie Hoyle Pennsylvania: -Madeleine Dean -Mary Scanlon -Summer Lee Rhode Island: -Gabe Amo South Carolina: -James Clyburn Tennessee: -Steve Cohen Texas: -Greg Casar -Veronica Escobar -Joaquin Castro -Sylvia Garcia -Lloyd Doggett -Lizzie Fletcher -Al Green -Jasmine Crockett -Marc Veasey Vermont: -Becca Balint Virginia: -Donald Beyer -Gerald Connolly -Jennifer McClellan -Bobby Scott Washington: -Suzan DelBene -Derek Kilmer -Rick Larsen -Marilyn Strickland -Pramila Jayapal Wisconsin: -Gwen Moore -Mark Pocan Source: Newsweek

[factual-fantasy]

27 Asks! Thank you! :}} 💞

@peaspods

I might not be understanding, but I'm imagining this as people opening up commissions so people can give them money and they can turn around and donate that money to me..

I fear that this would create the opportunity to scam people.. "I'm taking commissions on behalf of Factual Fantasy! They're very sick so please commission me!" only for them to run away with the money they make..

I've been thinking a lot about setting up some kind of commission/donation thing because I'm starting to kind'a need the money.. but idk, I'm just kind'a run down and need some time to keep thinking about it. Thank you very much though <:)))

@zecromgen5

Thank you very much! :) And I've been hanging in there.. there hasn't been much improvement to my health or my mental state. The fact that in April it will officially been over a year since my health started to decline, and the fact that I'm going to spend my birthday at home collapsed on the couch has made me feel very sad <:( But I'm doing my best to work on it.. I'm hoping this new advice from my doctor helps me feel better <:)

And something good HAS happened actually, I got my tablet/FireAlpaca to work again! :))

XDD SJKFJSH AWW! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD

I've only seen a bit of it from Markiplier. So far I'm 50/50. Somethings I like and others I don't care for 😅

@neo-metalscottic

Thank you so much! :D 'm glad you've liked my recent artwork!! :}}}}

Also for Homes eyes, that was just meant to represent its oppressive presence and the fact that its watching them in that moment.. 👁️👁️

And I don't have any plans for any of the neighbors or Wally to figure out the house is alive. My AU is more like "a day in the life of" thing. Having someone discover Home is alive would move the plot forward. Which I don't feel like doing <XDD

Now communication... Home understands the concept, but he has no way of communicating other than creaking the floorboards and slamming doors..

I've heard about the well. That could work for Cliffjumper and Breakdown maybe.. and the twins perhaps.? But wouldn't they have to have Tailgates body in order to revive him? Hmmm.. idk actually,,

I've watched the bayverse movies, most of Prime and a few other things here and there. I didn't mind the bayverse movies that much, but I can see why a lot of people don't like them <XD

I just imaging trying to consume more than one Transformers media would be a lot to take on.. and I also don't like the animation styles of most other transformers shows 😅

(That's actually how I decided to watch Prime. I took a look at all the shows and went "this one looks ugly, this one looks ugly,, this one looks REALLY ugly.. Oh, this one doesn't look half bad. TFP it is then!")

@acreaturecalledkyfa

I've watched Markipliers first video on it. So far I'm not sure how I feel about those two 😅

The way I immediately opened YouTube and went looking for it XDD

@fandomcenteral (Link in ask)

Thank you so much! :DD This will come in handy!

@mason-gaylord

Aw! Thank you so much!! 🥰🥰

@im-nice-but-i-dont-like-you

Jangles would be a helicopter probably, Gerald would be a tank, Cici would be a Miata and Bibi would be a slightly raised up Miata XDD

Aw, I'm honored that you miss them <:}} Though I don't know if I'll draw them anytime soon.. I'm really not into inserted OCs anymore <:(

I'm waiting on Markiplier to release more videos on it <XD

@fadlingartisanfreakwinner

I like to imagine that Pokémon can learn dozens of moves. But 4 is the limit for official Pokémon battles. So any wild Pokémon in my comics can use/learn as many as they want :0

And yeah, they had that chat eventually. I just never got around to drawing it 😅

@wolfie-777

Nah nah its just iced tea XDDD

@whereismycupofcoffee

:DDD Thank you so much!! :}}}}

AAAA THANKYOU SO MCUHH!! :DDDD

@nuggybee

Yeahh,, Sky has its ups and downs. I'm currently in one of its downs. It seems like I'm let down by everything they're releasing 😓

@smithanonsworld

I feel like I've never seen a rabbit that color... its so cute 😭💞💞💞

@heaventhehedgi3

That sounds like me! Though I don't draw Octonauts anymore 😅

I'll keep it in mind! :0

🥹🥹🥹Aw... that's so sweet! Thank you so much!! 😭💞💞

@captain-skyler1987

You made an account just to follow me? :DD Aw that's so sweet! :) Thank you!

Also I'm sorry to hear you got the flu :(( I hope you're better by now!

I also have not played Dandy's world 😅

@stargirldrawsx3

The first thing that came to mind was very anxious all the time 😅

@network-warrior-01

Ah, that was an April fools post. <XD There is no drawing

[trucetale]

ScrambledEGG AU where events are scrambled and lives are changed!!

This AU now has a Shadow. This version of Shadow is more Doom inspired and has a bit more red markings. Maria is a Wachowski instead of a Robotnik. She and Shade (Shadow) met when she was 10 and they spent 3 years together as a family, Shade acting as her big brother. Shade was a lot more emotional as he grew up in an open and free environment, but worry not his brooding personality comes at a later date. His story starts off like in the movies. He crash landed on Earth in Oklahoma, but instead of the family who found him calling authorities they ended up taking him home. When authorities did arrive they claimed the rock was empty when they found it. After some time though they couldn’t keep Shade hidden as someone alerted authorities about his presence and the government ended up getting involved. Long story short he lost his family when they raided the Wachowski’s home in order to detain him. He ended up in a facility where Gerald Robotnik worked. The other scientists were afraid of him but Gerald treated him like a kid who lost his family. Gerald was the only one keeping the testing humane until he passed. His testing got more torturous and they ended up putting him in cryosleep for 50 years.

[vischys]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆, courtesy of the respiratory mask that concealed most of the youth's countenance. He bore a conjecture hitherto that the members of Demon Blood Tears sync harmoniously with one another when they choose to embark upon a mission together, owing to the display of profound fellowship that he gleaned from the congenial manner whereby they addressed and interacted mutually during his visit to one of their residences some time ago. 'Twould never occur to him that being Ink's second and the one who evinced the most​ orthodox manner of common sense, Navarro had harbored his own instances of grievance toward his comrades for the lack of opportunity to fully demonstrate his own method of combat during their conjoined missions. The very same opportunity that coincidentally was also the very same with that which Vergil himself had just accorded to the youth, albeit in conformity with an entirely different motivation.

In an entirely different setting and situation withal, the son of Sparda would likely either proceed by himself or rebuked Navarro's concern –or that of anyone upon that matter– as the youth had initially been wary of. But he was not self-​e​ntitled to the extent of disregarding other party's claims when they happened to share the same mark and end goal to him. Or worse, dishonoring their motivation in favor of sheer vanity. It was one thing to declare faith and pride over one's abilities, and another thing entirely to vaunt them. The first sought to acknowledge a fact whilst the latter served no purpose beyond undermining others. This was very much Navarro's and his fraction's matter as it was his commission, and the last thing he would seek is to deprive the bomber and the other youths their very right to settle the matter in their own judgment as he wouldn't wish to be deprived of the same right. So long as Navarro was capable of holding his own in battle that his presence did not hinder Vergil from exacting his approach, then the cambion had neither the reason nor qualms to continue their advance in concert.

"... Vergil? You okay? Did you hear what I said?"

The inquiry involving his name prompted his stringent gaze to fix upon the bomber's face again, this time devoid of his mask once more.

"There is the sound of running water down there but with the lights here. If we follow it, we can get out of here."

The repetition of such a common-sense basic served to irk him only mildly, especially in the wake of the revelation that Navarro, unlike him, did not seem to register the same feeling of being observed.

Despite his supposedly enhanced senses. His mind then recalled what Hellmare imparted about each member of Demon Blood Tears has signed a contract with their respective devil contractors. If the genteel lady's account pertaining to their fraction's attainment of demonhood bearing upon him as well?

And yet Vergil's own enhanced senses yielded nothing of ordinary, thus he considered Navarro's seemingly dearth of awareness therein to be perfectly founded, thus he refrained from voicing out his paranoia presently. No purpose is served in inciting panic within the youth for something yet ascertained.

“ Evidently, ”  was his verbal response with a tad ictus in his tone to convey the aforementioned mild irk, striding past Navarro ​in emphasis.

The door as it turned out, did not reveal a flight of stairs that would bring them to a higher ground but to yet another tunnel passage instead much to his silent disappointment. As Navarro had pointed out, there was the dripping and gurgling sound of unmistakably water, louder than the one he previously discerned following their deep fall, which implied a close, likely quite a dense body of water which also bore the risk of a flood should another cave-in were to occur. Yet as the bomber advised, the presence of light also pointed to a way that had been used occasionally if not regularly by the people who built and maintained the drain. A way to the surface.

Having descried no other route, the cambion​ steeled his resolve and proceeded to traverse the tunnel hallway with his impromptu youthful companion in predicament. ​It wasn't until he reached the midpoint that the flintiness of his bearing was marred and his facial contour scrunched up in disgust when his nose was assaulted by an acute malodor as though the whole city's worth of waste matter had coalesced into one body of water.

H​ow much of that faecal water is running about frontward? Nowhere enough to inundate the tunnel?! He mused apprehensively at the prospect of being soaked into a liquid percolated with plethora of bodily waste.

Frontward of them, in contrast to the cambion's repulsion, a certain reptile Commander Beast dived into said percolation without further ado, undismayed and further dissimulated by said plethora of waste.

There’s no way, right? He is just getting to know them and vice versa.

𝑯𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 the bomber’s unspoken curiosity, his initial response would be a flash of umbrage upon his icy exterior, just as every query directed to something he considered as sacredly personal as his emotional stance elicited. Following what he would initially consider an attempt in breach of privacy would be apprehension of what he would come to realize as a warranted concern from Navarro’s part apropos of Vergil’s regard of his leader Given the teen’s position in their youthful fraction both in professional and emotional capacity as Ink’s second in authority and comrade, ‘twas indeed expected of Navarro’s station to look after their fraction above all their leader.

Keep reading

[smallpwbbles]

Do you think they should keep Gerald in the movie

Like if he should be in there at all? Or if he may die or something

Cuz depending on how they do his character I don’t mind his presence, and lowkey yeah I wanna see the dude die just to see how that would affect Shadow