#HOLLYWOOD CAN ONLY MAKE ONE DRAGON HEAD SHAPE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me

Sir Pentious a.k.a. Telly (@usedhearts) finishes shedding and goes to show Alastor, who’s been hanging out at his place the last week and a half fretting over him helping him out. Stuff that happens:

💕 MUTUAL CONFESSIONS 💕

Telly’s shed has given him some interesting new mutations! 🐟

Alastor makes a deal with his own soul on the line! 🔥

Things Which Are Unsafe For Work 🍆🍆

❤️❤️❤️ AND MORE! ❤️❤️❤️

Look I pulled out the emoji and everything, that’s how exciting this is.

(For y’all that want to keep up with the plot but don’t want to read lewds, I’ll mark where it begins and ends in the chat.)

Sir Pentious

The steam in the room was finally being released, dissipating the fog as the air began to circulate again. Telly felt refreshed, and much, much better, now that all that was over with. He smiled as he grabbed his phone, shooting a text to Alastor.

🎩 I'LL BE OUT MOMENTARILY! IT'S FINALLY ALL DONE!

And then he called the Eggs in to take care of the skin that lay across the floor.

Alastor

And Alastor was a mere room away from the bathroom-turned-sauna, flopped back on Sir Pentious’s bed, waiting—*just in case,* see. The other Sir Pentious had had a hard time with the last day of his shed, Alastor had wanted to be on hand in case this one was struggling too. To sing, to distract, to massage, to hold hands, to offer a few shadows to carefully slide off the shed... Whatever he was needed for.

But so far it hadn’t been necessary, so he’d mainly ended up singing to himself, rewriting a song that Valera had started on during the aforementioned prior shed: “*I’ll peel you, banana... I’ll peel you... I thought that you’d overripened, and I’d make a bread out of you; now my mouth and eyes are opened, banana... I’ll eat you, banana—*“

Alastor sits bolt upright. That’s his phone! He can feel the signal of the incoming text crackle against his hip. He pulls it out, reads the message, and rather than returning the text yells into the sauna, “I’m right where you left me! Need me to grab anything?” Probably not, but maybe Telly needed a fresh change of clothes or something. Alastor had gotten used to grabbing odds and ends for Telly this week.

Sir Pentious

He's moved on to the other area of the bathroom now-- what he liked to call the 'false lead' as there were no baths in here! Just the toilet and the sink and the mirror. Which he was now staring in, his arm held up as he looked at the three lines in his side. Those were new. Edged with black against the yellow, they stood out. He ran a finger over them and gave a soft gasp at the sensitivity. Like touching his fingers to his lips, these new....things were much more sensitive than the rest of him.

Telly lifted his other arm and sure enough, there was a matching pair on the other side-- and that's when it clicked. These were gills. He had _gills_ now. Well. That was something.

He finally broke out of his trance to respond to Alastor. "No! No need, I'll be right there." He slithered quickly toward the door and almost threw it open, beaming at Alastor.

"Ta-da?" He offered, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, his smile turning a bit shy.

Alastor

He stuffed his phone away before a handful of eggs could toddle by and spot it, and then all but forgot the eggs when Telly himself emerged. “And here’s the top banana himself!” Alastor telling jokes that only he’s gonna get, he’s a riot.

And he immediately regretted the comment, because “banana” did not come close to adequately describing the appearance of Sir Pentious immediately after a shed, scales all shiny and new, colors vivid and bright. He’d thought Telly had looked lovely a couple of weeks ago, with sparkling copper and iridescent green polish painting his scales; it didn’t come close to how he looked now, at his most naturally brilliant. Alastor could only stare a moment; before he managed to choke out, “... And, like a banana, you’re looking very a-peel-ing.” No, Alastor, bad, flirting did *not* make it better.

Sir Pentious

Telly momentarily got distracted by the Eggs as well, watching them toddle into the bathroom to collect the skin. But then his attention was drawn back by Alastor and just how....struck he was. Not speechless, of course, Telly hardly thought anything could strike the Radio Demon speechless, but struck all the same. A small bubble of pride inflated in his chest.

"Yessss, look at thisss!!" He slithered more fully into the room, stretching out his tail behind him. "I think I got a few extra inchesss now! Come here, Alassstor, come feel-- I'm ssso sssmooth now, too!" His excitement was in full force now and he gestured for him to come over.

And as he did, the Eggs reappeared with the skin hoisted over their heads. Look at that skin, that's a nice, nearly whole skin. And there they go, toting it out the door.

Alastor

Feel? *Feel?* He was being invited to *touch* immediately after a shed? He sure hadn’t gotten that honor when his *other* snake friend had shed, and for a moment his immediate wariness—*What’s the catch? Is this a trap? Will Telly be watching Alastor’s reaction?*—was enough to balance out his yearning to do *exactly* what Telly had asked for him to do.

Which let him get distracted by the eggs passing. He watched them go by, with *another* snakeskin he’d love to get his hands on but definitely was afraid to touch. If the eggs were just throwing it out, they’d probably have crumpled it up, wouldn’t they? “What in the world are they doing with that?” Look, a diversion!

Sir Pentious

He looked at the Eggs, tilting his head. "Probably going to dry it and then do....whatever it is they do with them! I don't know and I have never thought to ask. The Egg Bois, you know, they're..." He put his hand at the side of his mouth to stage whisper. "_Weird._"

Telly shrugged, and then reached out his hand again. "Anyway, come here!! Come here, Alastor, feel my ssscalessss!!"

Alastor

Dry it! Alastor’s grin widened with glee as he started playing a crackly song—“*Tan me hide when I’m dead, Fred, tan me hide when I’m dead; so we tanned his hide when he died, Clyde, and that’s it hanging in the shed.*”

Alastor remained convinced that he was, in fact, the funniest person in Hell.

And he was also stalling. He needed to talk to Telly about *them*—as in the *two of them*, and the wildly confusing signals that Telly was sending (THIS ONE already quite solidly ranked among them!), and he’d told himself he’d do it after Telly’s shed was over and he was feeling better, but how do you say “stop everything, I can’t feel you up until we talk about our relationship status to make sure that we’re in agreement on the exact implications of said groping”? You don’t say that. Nobody says that. Every love story Alastor had ever heard, seen, or read had both parties just blunder along until a *moment* presented itself when it had to be said, and those moments didn’t happen by interrupting different moments—

And while Alastor mused on the intricacies of confessing attraction as modeled by Hollywood, he’d run out of goofy music to play and been staring for a bit longer than he should have. “Are you sure? Isn’t it, you know, *tender* right after shedding?” Maybe that was tarantulas.

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed at the song, a hissing giggle, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. His head tilted as he waited for Alastor to speak, or move-- but he just stared. Was this weird? Had he made it weird? Oh, god, he'd made it weird, hadn't he? He was about to speak again when Alastor finally spoke.

"Oh! No, it'sss not. The scales are quite firm." He snickered, and then slithered over to his nightstand. He dug around in it, finding the bottle of scale lotion and slithered back, this time closer to Alastor. "If it helps, I could give you a job? I need to put on lotion to help make sure I stay nice and shiny as long as possible." He smirked and hummed.

Alastor

Alastor watched far more closely than he should have as Telly slithered across the floor—oh God, were those gashes on the side? Alastor had noticed that some of Telly’s deepest wounds hadn’t healed completely with the shed, but he hadn’t noticed the gashes on the side—no, wait, those didn’t look like gashes—were those *gills?* “Do you have *gills?*” Look, another diversion!

Because he was *not* ready to answer a request to lotion up Telly’s body.

Sir Pentious

"What?" He blinked and then grinned, nodding. "Oh! Yes! I _think_ they are, they certainly look it!" He lifted an arm to let Alastor get a better look. "I suppose my body decided I needed them? I don't know, but I'm certainly not going to look _this_ gift horse in the mouth!"

He laughed and lowered his arm. Telly took Alastor's hand and placed it on the back of his arm. "Feel my sssscalesss, already!"

Alastor

“All right, all right.” That was as much procrastinating as Alastor could manage. He was going to touch *extremely lightly*—and oh even with his gloves on he could tell, yes, Telly’s scales *were* smooth, and it was a fight not to touch *more.* No, that was crossing a line.

Sir Pentious

"Feel some of the bigger onessss," He said, guiding his hands again to his hip area. "The big ones feel like a smooth river stone to me. Makes me think of what a dragon woud've felt like, were they real."

He hissed a soft laugh and purred.

Alastor

“Right,” Alastor murmured, hardly registering the comparison—dragons, rivers, yes. He’d felt a jolt shoot up his chest at the feel of Telly’s hands on his hands and Telly’s scales sliding beneath his fingertips, and now all he could think about was the shape of his hips and how Alastor wanted to trace them, wanted to satisfy a half-century-old yearning to learn where the skeleton beneath the snakeskin shifted from human to serpent, wanted—

He pulled his hands back. “Yes, I see what you mean! An astute comparison.” He laughed uncomfortably.

Sir Pentious

Oh. That laugh, he could practically smell the discomfort radiating off of Alastor. Oh, he made it weird again, didn't he. He moved back a little and then spread himself out on the floor, popping open the lotion bottle to start getting some on his hands.

"Did you want to help me with this?" He asked, his voice a bit smaller.

Alastor

Oh, and now Telly was uncomfortable, Alastor made it weird.

They should stop and talk. Alastor had overthought every interaction to the point that he no longer had any idea where he stood with Telly, and if Telly knew where he stood with Alastor he was doing a damn good job of not admitting it, and there was the whole girlfriend deal, and neither of the prior Sir Pentiouses Alastor had known had ever asked him to *lotion their scales* but was that a personality difference between this Sir Pentious and the others or was it a difference in how much he *wanted* out of Alastor, and—

—and right now, Telly’s voice sounded like it ought to be coming out of an anthopomorphic cartoon flower wilting beneath a vicious blizzard, and Alastor couldn’t stand it. He had to fix that first. Not *because* the sight of Telly stretched out so tantalizing across the floor filled Alastor with an *itch* to touch, but *in spite of* it.

Alastor knelt next to Telly, forcing his usual energetic cheer back into his voice. “Of course! I promised I’d help you through this shed start to finish, didn’t I?”

Sir Pentious

The cheer brought his smile back a little, and he offered the bottle of lotion to him. "The sooner I put it on the longer my post-shed glow will last," He said, with a soft chuckle.

"You'll be able to see a sparkly serpent for longer." Another laugh and he started rubbing what he had on his hands onto his arms. Ooooh nice and cool, felt good after being in that sauna for a day.

Alastor

Well, preserving the sparkly serpent was selfless enough, wasn’t it? The fact that Alastor would enjoy the sight didn’t change the fact that Telly would benefit from it. He scooted to sit behind Telly, squeezed some lotion into a hand, rubbed his hands together as he told himself to Not Make This Weird, *Please,* and then started where he figured it would be hardest for Telly to reach by himself—between his shoulder blades.

Sir Pentious

He shivered at the touch, but smiled, and purred. Oh, that felt nice. He continued to rub in what he had onto his arms, and his eyes (on his face) closed a moment, just enjoying the feeling of Alastor's hands on his back. Telly made a soft noise of contentment, letting his head droop forward a bit as he moved his hoot out of Alastor's way.

Alastor

Sure. This was easy. Alastor could do this. And then after this they could discuss—they *really* should have discussed this before—but there had never been a moment when he could. Just do this without doing anything out of line.

His hands slid down Telly’s back, running over the ridge of each vertebra and rib. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Telly totally naked, but *oh* was it a rush to just revel in him like this. Like painting on the polish had been, but far more so.

Sir Pentious

His eyes are closed and his breath is catching with every little traced of bone. He could feel his heart beating so much faster already and he wondered if Alastor could hear it-- it was so quiet, after all. Had he struck Alastor speechless, now? He didn't know, but his mind was on other things, like the feeling of his hands against his back. A purring rumble cascaded through his chest, a very pleased snake, yes, that was what he was.

Alastor

Alastor had stopped breathing entirely as he listened to each little change in Telly’s breath, ears twitching at every change. The rumble made his hands tingle from fingertips to wrist and ears tingle from tip to base and down the back of his scalp. Oh, if Alastor could get Telly to make that sound every day... His hands worked down to the small of Telly’s back, where they separated and started to creep around his waist, seeking out again the spot Telly had shown Alastor earlier, eager to grip him tight and pull him closer—

*No.* Alastor vanished, a shadow ghosting across the floor, to rematerialize sitting on the far side of Telly’s bed, faced away. “I—sorry.” His voice was far too weak for his tastes.

Sir Pentious

He was reveling in this, soaking in every touch like a sponge to water-- and then the touch was gone, and his eyes flashed open, blinking rapidly at the sudden absence. It made him feel cold.

His head turned to see Alastor all the way across the room and he frowned. Telly slithered over to him slowly, circling around to get in front of him. His head tilted and he moved with even more exaggerated slowness to take Alastor's hands.

"Sorry for what, Alastor?" He asked, holding his hands reverently.

Alastor

Ohhh they were having the conversation *now.* Okay. It wasn’t exactly Hollywood, but what ever was? He reflexively squeezed Telly’s hands, then had to let his grip go slack again.

Voice strained, eyes shut, head tilted back like he was hoping God might take pity just once on a poor damned sinner and telegraph some divine inspiration straight into his brain, he said, “You should know—that—doing this, it... means *quite* a bit more to me than I think you realize. Possibly *far* more than it does to you, but I, uh...” He let out a choked wheeze of a laugh. “I’m having a hard time figuring that out, actually.” Somebody smite him, please.

Sir Pentious

Oh. Oh! _Oh._ Things were starting to click in that brilliant, dumb brain of his, the wheels were definitely turning-- and stalling and catching fire and he was pretty sure smoke was going to start pouring out of his head.

Alastor liked him. Alastor _like liked_ him. More than friends, liked him. His heart began to swell as his brain rapidly repaired the wheels to think of what he should say here. What _should_ he say here? How did you tell someone you liked them, as more than a friend? God, he was awkward.

But Alastor didn't know that _he_ liked him! How was that possible? He thought he'd been....pretty blatant about it. But whatever, that didn't matter. What mattered was this....

"Alastor," He said, releasing one of his hands to cup his cheek, to make Alastor look at him. "I like you. More than would have been proper in my day and age or yours. I've, ah, I've liked you for some time now, but I wasn't sure if _you_ liked _me_ in that way and I--" His jaw snapped shut. Shut up, stupid, don't ramble.

"I have feelings for you, Alastor. Romantic feelings."

Alastor

And what do we find hidden at the bottom of Pandora’s box but small bright little hope! Alastor’s heart let out a single heavy booming *thud,* like a timpanist waiting for his cue had gotten startled and dropped his mallet. His eyes flew open and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for half a century. Breathless, he whispered, “*Do* you?” That couldn’t be true. That couldn’t.

But by God if Alastor wasn’t good at playing his assigned role in absurd situations, then what *was* he good at? His throat and lips worked for a moment, but he couldn’t say the words back—so instead, he simply... lifted one of Telly’s hands. And kissed the knuckles—a knight swearing fealty to a king. And turned Telly’s hand over to kiss the palm. This couldn’t be real; this was going to end any second. He tried to press his whole face into Telly’s hand.

(Everything tasted like snakeskin lotion.)

Sir Pentious

He'd been about to do that! You beat him to the punch, Alastor. But he smiled, and decided, fuck it, he was going to do it anyway. Telly lifted Alastor's hand and repeated the motions. A kiss to the knuckles and then to the palm. He held it against his cheek after that, and leaned in, giving a little blelele against his cheek.

He felt so light, so relieved, like someone had attached balloons all over him and he was floating.

Alastor

Alastor took the tongue flicking at his cheek as an invitation to return a proper kiss; and so he did. As close to silent as Telly had probably ever heard a Radio Demon—all his white noise trapped in his lungs, no sound but the rare stray distant unintelligible whisper of Alastor’s invisible audience. The kiss was light and tentative, as if he still suspected he might have misinterpreted the words “I have romantic feelings for you.” (He did, in fact, suspect exactly that.)

Sir Pentious

His arm wrapped around Alastor's waist, drawing him closer as he returned the kiss. It was soft and slow, as tentative as Alastor started it, but he certainly was returning it. And then his tongue made another appearance, flicking against Alastor's teeth-- oh, really, right now? Don't worry about that Alastor, it had a mind of its own sometimes.

Alastor

And the kiss was *returned.* White fireworks went off just behind Alastor’s eyes and he laughed, as much from the sensation of a forked tongue flicking at his lips as from relief and from half-hysterical disbelief. He broke the kiss to embrace Telly, bury his face in the crook of Telly’s neck, and murmur, “*Really?*” His voice was a small, muffled thing in the dead silence.

Sir Pentious

Telly's other arm wrapped around him and pulled him up off the bed. No more sitting for you, Alastor! Fully embraced in the snake's arms is how it's going to be now. Telly squeezed him, nuzzling back, and giving a flick of his tongue against Alastor's neck. "_Yes, really._"

Alastor

And up he’s pulled! Enjoy the sound effect of... a startled elephant? A man sneezing into a trumpet? The one lone sound effect was almost out of place in the dead silence.

He tugged off his gloves with trembling hands and pressed his fingertips to Telly’s back again, chasing some half-developed whim to attempt to keep rubbing in the lotion but really just retracing the scales and bones he’d explored earlier, this time without a thin layer of deerskin dulling the sensation. And he kissed, slowly, almost experimentally, along Telly’s collar bone.

Sir Pentious

Oh, the gloveless hands, he's honored. And purring. And reveling in the kisses. This was really happening. It was really happening, Alastor was _kissing him_ and it was better than he'd dreamed it. His arms squeezed him again, and his tail began to coil around his legs. Sorry, Alastor, you belong to the snake now.

Alastor

“I’ve never liked the touch of someone else’s skin. I hate how other people feel—the hair and sweat and oils of human flesh, pores and nipples and bellybuttons...” His voice was almost silent, but it was also entirely human, all distortion gone. He whispered fervently, like this confession was something else that had been trapped in him half a century, waiting for that long exhale before it could come out. “But scales...” Another kiss. “I’ve always thought snakeskin is so smooth and cool and—*perfect.* And even more beautiful now when it’s all new.”

Sir Pentious

Telly's breath hitched at the kiss, and the words. Oh, he was glad that he couldn't blush. He did purr instead, though, and his claws kneaded at Alastor's sides. "You think I'm beautiful?" He asked, his voice soft. "I--" He paused and smiled, letting his tongue flick against his cheek again.

"I love your voice. Being able to hear it all this week, while I couldn't see anything...It was the best thing to hear. You helped keep me grounded, with every word and every song." He leaned in to press a kiss against his clothed neck. "And red is one of my favorite colors."

Alastor

And now Alastor’s breath hitched. *Grounded*? He’d done that? With the rarefied airs he put on, he’d helped keep Telly firmly tethered to the world around him?

When was the last time his voice had helped anybody feel *connected*?

This was real. All of this was really happening. Alastor felt a lump forming in his throat, and he fought through it the best way he knew how: by talking. “You’re beautiful beyond words. Always. When you’re fresh from a swim, scales still *glistening* with with beads of water—or painted up like a temporary work of art—or practically glowing with vivid new colors...” He started slowly kissing up Telly’s neck every few words. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘curves in all the right places’—“ Kiss. “—you’re nothing but curves.” He delivered the punchline with a hiss of his usual static and a polite chortle from his studio audience. He was still absolutely terrified—but if he could make jokes, he’d work through it. “Curves covered in gold and onyx and rubies...” Kiss. And then, awkwardly, haltingly, he said, “...I don’t think anyone’s ever said something nice about my color palette before.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was what he could get out.

Sir Pentious

Every kiss brings another hitch of his breath, and his eyes slide shut as he listened to Alastor talk. His claws still kneaded against him, and his purring turned up a notch. His tail squeezed Alastor's legs and he laughed softly.

"I like it. Despite everything around us being red most of the time, you make it work for you. It makes you stand out and blend in at the same time. And anywhere that's not swathed in red already, you pop. When I could still barely see, the red and your voice where how I knew where you were." He laughed again. "And if I have curves all over, I suppose that I only _have_ right places to have curves, hm?"

His eyes opened and he looked at Alastor, smiling. "You're handsome, fun, exhilarating...I could go on and on."

Alastor

Hah, of course, this airship was probably the only place in Hell where a pure red getup *would* stand out. “Exhilarating?” He laughed half breathlessly. “You want to talk about exhilarating, talk about—talk about the man who’s conquering Hell! Good God! You don’t get more exhilarating than a laser the size of a Cadillac!” He pulled back suddenly—not far, just enough to make eye contact, to hold Telly’s face in his hands. “Tell me if I’m being too forward, but—I want to see it. Everything Poseidon said to Amphitrite—I meant every word. I want you to raise Hell and raze Heaven—I want you to dethrone the infernal and the celestial with nothing but the mechanical—I want hubris to win. And I want to be there with you. I want to be your personal broadcaster, your royal jester and royal executioner, your herald. I want to eat God’s flesh off of the same plate as you.”

Sir Pentious

Oh, he's nearly panting at that, eyes wide and locked on Alastor's. Every word seeped into his brain and down through his spine to his lungs and his gut. And something unknotted down there, and released, and the doubt that constantly niggled in the back of his brain fell quiet. And was replaced by Alastor's voice, Alastor's encouragement, Alastor's partnership-- Alastor's.....

He surged forward and kissed him, hard, once, twice. His tail coiled up further around him and his hands held Alastor's face. "I meant it all too. Everything I said then, in that moment. I want you with me, every step. I want you by my side. I want your laughing lips on mine as I tear down the Kings and Princes. I want to tear out God's heart and present it to you on a silver platter." And he kissed him again, breathless.

He chuckled softly after and stroked Alastor's cheek with his thumb. "Now, tell me if I'm being too forward, but for someone without ambition, you're being very ambitious with me." He slyly smirked and winked. And then another kiss.

Alastor

His heart fluttered and his eyes slid shut as all his conscious awareness rushed out of the rest of his body and to his mouth, and for a moment that was all that existed, two sets of lips and fangs and the promise of a universe caught in between them.

When Sir Pentious accused him of having actual ambitions, he only managed to get out “Well, I—“ before being pulled into another kiss. During a brief pause for breath, he hissed, “Didn’t I say Poseidon’s only an unfinished demigod without Amphitrite?”

And then he dove back in. He hummed into the kiss, a near-century-old love song caught in the back of his throat, ghostly voices singing as an invisible record skipped and repeated—“*When I’m calling you, will you answer too?—You’ll belong to me, I’ll belong to you—You’ll belong to me, I’ll belong to you—*”

Sir Pentious

There's nothing now but this. This kiss. What a rush it was, kissing him. Telly's hand slid back and his claws tangled into his hair, threading through and scratching at his scalp. Slowly, his body started to move, lowering them back and down, onto the floor, Alastor on top. He didn't want to stop this kiss for anything, never again wanted his lips separated from the Radio Demon's. His tongue flicked into Alastor's mouth, teasing and quick, before he pulled back at last, panting for breath.

"Kissing you....feels very....mm....very right," He said, as he tried his best to gulp down air. Telly held Alastor against him and purred.

Alastor

The tongue flick turned Alastor’s hum into a sound that was half static hiss, half longing groan. He tried to catch the Telly’s tongue between his lips when he drew back.

Alastor shut his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. When did Alastor end up laying on top of Telly? Did Alastor push him down? “It does.” Those claws running through his hair sent a wave of shivering tingles across his scalp, down his neck, halfway down his back. He held himself up with one arm, and with the other traced his hand down Telly’s side, careful around the new gills. “I’ve missed—“ *He missed having this with Sir Pentious, the scheming, the intimacy, the ability to hope for a future.* The words caught in his throat. None of what he missed was with *this* Sir Pentious. This Sir Pentious didn’t know anything about the first one—only that he’d succeeded in life and that Alastor believed in him.

Alastor’s heart sank. Telly needed to know so much more than that. “I need to—I have to say something.”

Sir Pentious

The hand down his side sends more sparks down his spine than it would've used too-- and when Alastor's hands pass over the gills, there's a deeper gasp, and then a low groan. Just how sensitive are those? He'd have to do some tests to figure out...

He refocuses on Alastor, blinking as his brain catches up with the words he's saying. "Oh? All right. Then please, say it."

Alastor

“I’m getting déjà vu.” He tried to take in a deep breath; it was shorter and sharper than he would have liked. “I... tried this before, with another version of you. Not our mutual acquaintance, long before that. It went wrong.” He let out a very small, but very terrified laugh, talking faster, trying to finish his confession before Telly could start drawing conclusions. “We didn’t get much past this when I ruined everything. I won’t again, I won’t, I promise. But...”

Sir Pentious

Things sort of click when Alastor says that and Telly gives a little gasp and a little 'Oh.' He's quiet a moment and he takes a few breaths, before sliding his hand back to hold Alastor's cheek. The gesture is tender, and his thumb strokes over his cheek.

"It wasss your Pentious, yes? The one you told me about, from your universssse? The one who ssssucceeded?" He nodded and gave a hum. "May...May I asssk how? How did you ruin it?"

There's no accusation in his voice, just curiosity, but his hand stays on his cheek, his tail still wrapped around his legs. Everything about Telly was gentle here, in this moment. He didn't want to ruin this either.

Alastor

He owed Sir Pentious this—*some* Sir Pentious somewhere. Someone had to hear his confession, hear him acknowledge his sins. “We got—this far. I spent the night. But I panicked before morning. I’ve never—I’d never wanted somebody before. I didn’t want to become the kind of person who—*wants.* So I... left.” He took a deep, shaky breath, pressing his face into Telly’s hand. “And I... You can be a stubborn, determined man, Sir Pentious. If I wanted to get away, I had to—I *thought* I make sure he wouldn’t want to try to bring me back.” Disembodied sound clips play around Alastor—the distant, dull sounds of multiple explosions; an out-of-context news broadcast: “And it's crashing!—It's burning and bursting into flames—and the frame is crashing to the ground—Oh, the humanity—“ and then a far more familiar voice, choked with rage and disbelief and hurt: “No. We fought ssside by side. You hhelped me—"

The clips are all cut off with a whine of feedback. He didn’t mean to share that last one. He didn’t mean to share *most* of those sounds, the reinterpreted broadcast should have been enough—but some self-destructive part of him had to go too far with it. Sir Pentious who had died in an airship crash so traumatic he couldn’t even put on mascara without remembering spending his last moments blinded—and Alastor who had taken Sir Pentious’s love and trust and in return brought down his airships. How could this one forgive him for his crimes against the other one? “I’m—sorry.” It wasn’t enough.

Sir Pentious

His face falls and his heart breaks-- for both of them. For Alastor's panic induced destruction, and for the other....the other him that was hurt by it. His touch is still gentle, though, thumb stroking Alastor's cheek. Telly's breath hitches a little, and one small tear escaped the corner of his eye-- a tear shed for what Alastor had done, for what Sir Pentious had lost. His hand slides back to the back of his neck again, and brings his head in to press their foreheads together. And then he swallows the lump congealing in his throat to speak.

"It's okay. I....I understand. That panic, that feeling of needing to push someone away. I understand it. I'm sorry it happened, to both of you. I'm sorry that you hurt him, and yourself." He takes another breath, and his arm winds around Alastor's waist, pressing him closer than before.

"I want this. I want us. But there is something I need from you before we go further with this. I need you to promise me, to _swear_ to me there won't be a repeat performance. I--" He feels the tears then, bubbling up in all his eyes. "I don't think I would be able to take the heartbreak, Alastor. If you were to betray me like that, after we begin this, after everything you've done for me, it would be too much. So, please, promise me you won't do that again. Not with me."

A little hiccup and he used a hand to wipe at his eyes. "I want to give you my heart, but I'm not going to hand it over if there's a chance you could turn around and crush it. I need you to swear to me, that we won't end up like that."

Alastor

And there, Telly’s starting to cry already—Alastor’s ruined it. Fifty-four years ago he ruined this before it ever had a chance. His smile starts to wilt, corners threatening to turn down. If Alastor had to break Sir Pentious’s heart again, this was the most responsible way to break it, wasn’t it?

But then Telly starts to speak. And Alastor can’t believe his ears.

Just like that? That’s all it took? Telly *understands?* No, that can’t be. There aren’t second chances in Hell. But— “I—I promise. I promise. I promise.” He slides an arm under Telly’s shoulders, clutching him tight, eyes squeezed shut and face pressed against Telly’s shoulder. Please, let Alastor have this! “I’ll shake on it if you want—my soul and every soul I own if I ever betray you!” There’s only the slightest tremble to his voice, professional that he is—but hot tears are trapped between his cheeks and Telly’s scales.

Sir Pentious

Alastor's crying. Alastor's _crying_ against him and that's all he can focus on for a moment, until he processes the worlds. Then there's a gasp from Telly at that-- all the souls and Alastor's own? Just hearing that fills him with a confidence in this, in them, but there's still that fear. He hates to actually ask for it......

"Will you? Shake on it? Make a deal and make it binding?" His hand is on the back of his head, petting at his hair, and he hiccuped a little, his own tears running free. "I don't-- I don't want to force you into sssomething like that, but....and I'm ssssorry I don't have more trussst in you, but I-- I'm-- My mind, my anxiety, it will alwayssss be whissspering if we don't, I think." He sits up slowly, prying their bodies apart just enough to get his hand between them, offering it in a shake.

"You swear to never betray me like you did the Sir Pentious of your own universe, to not destroy this relationship and my heart, or you forfeit your soul and all those you have to me?"

Alastor

“I *never* want you to worry about trusting me. If this takes that fear away—yes.” Because Alastor is risking nothing. He *knows* he’ll never do that again. He knows he *couldn’t*, even if he wanted to. If it gives Telly something and costs Alastor nothing—well, Alastor is a dealmaker, and that’s a good deal.

He listens carefully to Telly’s terms. They go beyond what Alastor said, with the sort of ambiguous wording that devils and dealmakers could use to run in circles around a victim. Alastor knows Telly doesn’t mean them that way; but he’s not leaving any open loopholes that might see him, for example, trapped in some nightmare marriage a thousand years from now because some judge ruled that Alastor couldn’t file for divorce without “destroying this relationship.” He might have been raised Catholic, but he happens to think divorce is a pretty good option to keep on the table.

He chooses his words carefully. “I... can’t swear that I’ll never end this relationship or never break your heart. As much as I want to vow that—maybe in a hundred years we’ll decide we’re incompatible, or maybe I’ll break your heart through some unforgivable, unpredictable accident—and I won’t risk my soul on things I can’t prevent.”

He pushes himself up again, cheeks still wet, and slides his hand into the scant inches between their chests. “But I swear I will never knowingly and deliberately or callously break your heart; and I swear that if I do ever leave, I’ll leave with kindness and honesty; and I swear I’ll never betray you like I did the Sir Pentious of my universe; or I forfeit my soul and all those I have to you.”

And if that’s good enough for Telly—not a promise to control the uncontrollable but at least a promise to control his own actions—then here’s Alastor’s hand, glowing green, ready to be taken.

Sir Pentious

He listened to Alastor's words, his tears drying on his cheeks. Yes, that made sense. He wouldn't want to be stuck in a relationship with no out if he were in Alastor's shoes, and things did change. But he nodded, face serious.

"I can accept those terms. I'll accept them happily. For you and for us." He smiled softly.

And then Telly took his hand and shook it. He didn't release it, instead using it to pull Alastor back in for a kiss. It's harder than before, but in a happy way, and the hand that's not still clasped in Alastor's tangled into his hair to hold him.

Alastor

He pressed into the kiss immediately, the tips of his fangs and tongue immediately teasing at Telly’s lips—*let me in, please*—as he felt the magic behind the contract shooting up his arm and pooling in his chest, pounding in his heart, hot and electric.

Of all the things he anticipated, he didn’t expect the bargain to make HIM feel safe. But it did. He could be sure he’d never lose his nerve and betray Telly. He *couldn’t* betray him. He felt lighter.

Sir Pentious

Telly's mouth opens to him, and his tongue flicks out to play against Alastor's. Then back it goes to let him smell, and then back out-- like it has a mind of its own. He lays back again, taking Alastor with him, and he finally releases Alastor's hand to instead grip at his jacket.

He pulls back after letting the kiss linger against his lips. "How-- Ah, how far do you--" God, he couldn't even get that question out and he nips at Alastor's lip instead. "I need to know....where I should....stop....with this...."

Alastor

It’s hard to leave that kiss behind, but he lifts himself just enough to let his brain sort itself out. How far—? It’s hard to think about; he still has tears dripping off his cheeks and onto Telly’s. He’s still reveling in this sense of *security.* But the fact that Telly asks makes his heart flutter. Give him a second to try to remember where the Venn diagram circle of what he wants ends and what other people tend to want starts. “Let—let me keep my underwear on. Everything outside that is...”

Good enough, he’s back in the kiss. He wants those fangs on his lip again.

Sir Pentious

He lets Alastor kiss him again, and does give him a few more nips, but then another thought presents itself and he's pulling away again to speak.

"I-- Ah, you should know that my-- my anatomy is-- it's the same as a snake's in, ah, below the belt regards. I have--" He looks away and his hand rubs the back of his neck and then over his face. God, this is embarrassing, but it's something he should say.

"I don't know how comfortable you are with other people's....anatomy. In that way. Please tell me if anything makes you....uncomfortable? I don't want that for you....I want whatever we do to be good for us both."

Alastor

“—two? Were you going to say two?” Because if he was, then Alastor really is gonna have a case of déjà vu—and he’s trying not to start laughing.

He pushes himself up again. “I’ve never wanted to get that close to anybody *else’s* anatomy before. But I want to see every last inch of you.” His smile turns self-conscious after that. “And... we’ll figure out what I’m inclined to do with it from there. Sound fair?”

❤️📻🐍❤️ The Naughty Bits START HERE! ❤️📻🐍❤️

Sir Pentious

Telly laughs, covering his face with a hand again. "Yes. Yes, I was. I take it you're familiar, then?"

He moves the hand and then nods, very seriously, before giggling again. "Yes. That sounds good. But do you know the first place I want you to explore?" His smile turned downright sultry as he took Alastor's hand and lead it back to the gills on the side of his chest.

"Why not start somewhere new for both of us?"

Alastor

Oh, Alastor could listen to that laugh forever. Every single one of Sir Pentious’s laughs, from the self-conscious giggle to the maniacal cackle. "It's come up once before! Under similar circumstances, in fact! Although we were never properly introduced—I'm still only familiar with the twins by reputation." He thinks he's hilarious.

Alastor blinks in surprise as Telly moves Alastor's hand to his gills. "Really? It doesn't feel like I'm trying to stick a finger up your nostril?" He experimentally runs one finger along the outer ridge of a gill.

Sir Pentious

"No--" The rest of his sentence is cut off by a moan and then a full body shiver-- and that's a lot of body for him! How sensitive those gills seem to be, and quite the erogenous zone.

"That-- Um, ah, the gentle touch feels....I can't quite describe it, but it's....very good. I think the closest is probably when you, when you touch something to your lips? But more..." He laughed again, breathless. "And well, you will get to see them tonight, especially if you keep touching me like that..."

Alastor

Oh, Alastor feels that moan in his very bones. He’s not used to that—most sexual noises are the auditory equivalent of someone chewing up their food and then carefully spitting it in his ear. But from Sir Pentious, it’s... well, it’s still pretty goofy-sounding, sure—but it’s a sound *Alastor* elicited on purpose. It’s the positive result of Alastor trying to make Telly feel good. And *that*... He thinks he likes that.

The shiver is like sitting atop a mechanical bull as it powers up, right before it starts bucking. Alastor pauses just a moment to absorb the new sensation, and then continues, tracing lightly along the gills with two fingers, then three. "That sounds like a fine plan to me! Especially if it gets another noise like that out of you."

Alastor focuses on Telly's face and chest as he continues, watching every change in his expression, every twitch of his muscles. And listens intently to every single sound out of him.

Sir Pentious

With each stroke, there's another shiver, another moan, and one of Telly's hands briefly scrambled for something to hold before landing on the tail of Alastor's jack. He scrunches up the material and takes a breath. His brain can hardly keep up with the sparks it sends through his body, he feels punchdrunk from the sensation, hardly registering Alastor's words.

"T-That is something. W-Who knew gills would be so sensitive?" He chuckled. "You're going to get so much out of me tonight, Alastor. Everything you want to pull free from me, I'll give willingly."

Alastor

“Here you are offering to sing opera for me”—a few seconds of Christine Daae’s wailing at the end of the “Phantom of the Opera” theme—“and me without my recording equipment!” Alastor sighs woefully, to laughs from the studio audience. "Who knew! Gills aren’t the place *I'd* choose for an erogenous zone. But then, I wouldn't have merged the entertainment center with the sewage system, either." More studio laughter and a flushing toilet sound effect. Can you tell this man has never done dirty talk in his life. Can you tell it has not occurred to him that he SHOULD be trying dirty talk right now. "It still feels like I'm threatening to stick a finger up your nose."

For a brief moment he wonders what it WOULD be like to try to dig up into Telly’s gills. It wouldn't be hard, he thinks, to reach his ribs. To taste Telly’s blood and lungs. To hold his heart in Alastor's hands...

That, he decides, is a fantasy he probably ought to keep to himself. But when he bends in for another kiss, there's a little more fang behind it.

Sir Pentious

Telly can't help but snort, and roll his eyes (all of them) at the commentary. It seems like Alastor's back in form-- not even emotional confessions and desperate make outs could keep a good radio host down. He kisses back, though, and Telly finally starts in on Alastor's clothes. Jacket unbuttoned, he starts tugging the shirt out from where it's tucked in and then reaching up to remove the bowtie.

"You know," He says when their kiss breaks again. "You really are incorrigible. You have me at your mercy, nude and writhing, and you're making toilet jokes." There's fondness in his voice though, and he laughs. He removes the covering on Alastor's neck and then immediately is attacking it with kisses.

Alastor

"I've got to keep you laughing somehow, don't I?" What kind of a radio host would he be if he couldn't switch stations at a moment's notice? Just don't ask what the other stations are broadcasting right now. There’s a fair amount of emotional turmoil still brewing beneath the surface.

As Telly moves in on Alastor’s neck, he says, "Careful, I've got—ah." The bandage on his shoulder just past the crook of his neck—an unhealed bite wound made by another Sir Pentious in anger. Never mind, it can wait, his undershirt covers the bandage. He awkwardly shrugs off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt, exposing the ancient band t-shirt he's using as an undershirt and offering more of his neck to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly makes sure to leave his mark-- a little scrape of teeth and then some sucking has a lovely hickie appearing against Alastor's skin. He smirks as he pulls back, pleased at how it looks-- and then he notices the t-shirt.

He blinks. "What'ssss that?" He points at it. He is perplexed. The Radio Demon wears t-shirts under his suit?

Alastor

Tease. Barely grazing his skin and sucking a little at it without biting down? Telly probably hadn’t even broken the skin. Alastor bites his lip, don’t stop there—

—what was that? “Oh! My undershirt!” He sits up, straddling Telly’s hips (pause to consider how amazing and miraculous that is), and pulls the shirt straight out. “They started printing slogans and artwork on undershirts in the 50’s, I thought it was fun! Adds a bit of entertainment to the most boring part of one’s wardrobe.” (He still considers t-shirts a form of underwear.)

The t-shirt in question looks like it was painted by a fantasy novel cover artist and ostensibly displays the name of a metal band, although the name looks more like a tangle of barbed wire than like actual words—and it’s so old it’s falling apart at the seams. This particular piece of high fantasy heavy metal art features a murderous-looking cobra menacing some sort of tiger person. Alastor glances away, momentarily self-conscious. “The local version of you—he also plays pipe organ, obviously—he started playing organ on rock-and-roll bands’ albums in the eighties.” (He still considers heavy metal a form of rock-and-roll.) “One of the only traditionally trained pipe organists in Pentagram City who’s willing to play modern music, I’m given to understand. I can’t stand the sound of it, but... I... like to listen for his solos.”

Sir Pentious

He's careful as he touches the shirt, tracing a claw along the familiar looking cobra. Well, that's something. A smile touches his lips and he chuckles a bit.

"He plays for rock bands? Hm. Never thought of doing that. But I bet it's a fun time for him, being able to play for others. I'm glad you were able to hold on to something of him, even if it's just organ solos in rock music." Telly laughs again, getting his hands on either side of the hem of the t-shirt.

"Arms up, I'd rather not tear something that is important to you." But before that, Alastor gets another kiss, this one a touch sweeter than the others.

Alastor

Another point of difference between the Sir Pentious that Alastor once knew and this one. He files it away carefully. “I’d tell you how he got into it, but I haven’t the foggiest!” A slight grimace. “We... weren’t on speaking terms by that point.” *Even if it’s JUST organ solos.* Yeah, that just about sums it up. He wrenches himself off of that station and leans into the kiss, trying to let it distract him. “Pity, though—I was kind of hoping you could explain the appeal of that music to me! I just don’t get the sound at all.”

He tilts his head so his antlers don't catch the shirt as Telly lifts it and tries not to think about how exposed he is. And there's Alastor half naked. He has a bandage on his shoulder near his neck. Patches of thick red fur on his chest and trailing down the center of his stomach to his belt line do little to hide how bony he is. Almost as soon as he's uncovered, he automatically crosses his arms.

Sir Pentious

The crossed arms were pretty hard to miss. Alastor was clearly uncomfortable being without his clothes, which was fair enough. Not everyone could be as comfortable being nude as a giant snake, after all.

His eyes were drawn to the bandage however, and he very gingerly touched the edges of it, careful not to press. "What's this? Was this from when you healed me? I thought you would've healed it by now..." He arches his brow, and lets his hand trail down to rest on Alastor's arm. Then an idea strikes, something that might make them both more comfortable.

"Oh! Oh, a moment, I think I have something..." He gently took Alastor by his upper arms, easily and quickly, but still gently, moving him off and setting him on the floor. He slithered quickly to his dresser, throwing open a drawer and digging through his clothes. He returned, beaming and triumphant, holding a soft, very large, grey t-shirt.

"If you're not comfortable without something to cover you, then why not this? I just don't want anything to happen to that shirt that you like so much, and I have many shirts of different kinds." He offered it to Alastor, leaning down to kiss his cheek as he did.

Alastor

An ear twitches at the touch to the bandage. "Oh! No, that was here.” He taps his inner arm, see, the skin’s already smooth and only slightly discolored by what looks like long-faded bite marks. “Nothing to worry about—it's not bad, just pierced a bit deep. It's healing fine, so I elected not to waste any magic on it.”

He willingly moves aside and watches curiously as Telly rummages around. What's he looking for— "Oh! No no, I'm fine! I'm just getting used to the chill, that's all. You don't have—" He looks properly at the shirt. He sees the text on the shirt. He takes the shirt. He puts the shirt on.

He loves this shirt.

Sir Pentious

Yes, Telly thought he might. He smiles and settles back on the ground, taking Alastor's hand to pull him back to his lap.

"That's better, yes? And if I should bite through it, well, it'll give the shirt some character. That's what getting blood and bite holes in a shirt does, correct?" He laughed again, his Pentious™️ laugh. He did still slide his hands under the shirt, though, letting his claws dig into Alastor's sides a bit.

And then he leans in for another kiss, rougher this time, testing the waters as it were. He scrapes his fangs hard enough to draw blood at least, and the points of his claws sharply dig in further. He certainly wants to see if Alastor likes that...

Alastor

“Well, they certainly thought so in the nineties.” The shirt isn’t getting blood and bite holes without Alastor getting bloody bites, though—and the thought of it makes his dead heart pound harder, drumming in his ears.

When Telly’s fangs draw blood, it triggers a searing, white-hot, knife-sharp euphoria right behind his eyes, and he leans in hungrily, desperate for more, shaking hands scrabbling for the back of Telly’s neck and head, fangs digging into Telly’s lip.

Sir Pentious

He wasn't expecting quite that reaction, but it was hardly unwanted. His own hands wound around to Alastor's back to pull him closer, smashing them chest to chest. His claws dug in, scraping down Alastor's back, hard enough to leave bloody red lines behind.

Telly pulled from Alastor's lips to return to his neck, and the hickie he'd already left. His mouth opened and he bit, overcome by the urge-- forgetting for a moment, his venom. The thought struck him like lightning, though, and he pulled away cursing.

"Shit! Fuck, oh no, Alastor, hold on--" He rushed off again, this time to his bedside table, to grab a vial and syringe. "I have the anti-venom, let me give it to you, hold on, just a moment--!"

Alastor

He shudders as he’s clawed, the static background noise that surrounds him jittering between stations, grabbing snatches of disconnected voices and half-words. When Telly pulls away from him, he has just enough time to hiss “Please—” before fangs sink into his throat. His voice cuts off completely with a gasp, replace with distorted song clips—“*I've tasted blood and I want more—*” “*OH~ touch-a touch-a touch-a TOUCH me~—*”

He nearly swoons when Telly disappears to go get the anti-venom. For a moment he sits there, blinking, dazed smile on his face, before he registers what happened and gets to his feet to follow Telly. His knees are like jelly, is that from the venom or is it just him? “Give it to me straight, doc, how long until the venom does me in?” He sits on the bed, bats his eyelashes dramatically, and gives Telly a bloody smile. “Short enough that I’ll die happy?”

Sir Pentious

He's torn between laughing at that reaction and pure panic, but his hands don't shake as he gets the dose of anti-venom into the syringe. He takes Alastor's arm and locates a vein, plunging the needle in and then pressing the plunger. Once that's done, he sighs in relief, sinking down to the floor. He rubs his hands over his face, and his breath is shuddering, but after a few more moments, it settles. And then he laughs, a bit choked and a bit manic, but otherwise calm.

Telly lifted his head and then took Alastor's hands in his. "If you want me to bite more, then we're going to have to figure out what to do about my venom. You'll...ah, you'll become resistant eventually, but I certainly don't want to panic after every love bite. Maybe-- is there some magical way to counteract venom? Or make you immune? I am afraid that is not my area of expertise."

Alastor

So fast. Alastor automatically glances away when the shot goes in. Then he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together as Telly laughs, draping an arm over his shoulder—everything’s fine, no harm done. This certainly isn’t how he expected this visit to go; but then he didn’t expect... any of this. He expected to help Telly flake off some dead skin, congratulate him on a shed well done, and go home.

Alastor slides off the bed and seats himself on Telly’s coils. “Well, I most assuredly want you to bite more, so we’ll just have to figure that out! I’ve got a few tricks that can help draw it out, but they’re only partially effective. I could go to some of the higher demons to buy full immunity, but I don’t like making such large purchases from them unless I have to. Beyond that—if you tell me how you make your anti-venom, maybe I could brew up some potion that does the same thing? Or I could go to your local me, see whether he might be able to give me a blood transfusion to pass on whatever immunity he’s started building up?” If Telly panicked that much, Alastor wonders just how much suffering his alternate was in. (He needs to ask Telly about his relationship with the local Radio Demon some time, now that Telly knows a little bit about Alastor’s local Sir Pentious.) He winks, “Or maybe you just need to keep biting me until I get that natural resistance.”

Sir Pentious

He purrs when Alastor presses their foreheads together, and smiles at the gesture. God, he loves this, he loves touching and being touched, so very much, especially here and now and with him.

"I can give you my formula for the anit-venom, yes. I could also make some larger doses of it, perhaps just have more prepared. I could also come up with a device that could maybe automatically inject you, so we don't have to do the bottle and needle dance every time. Maybe an armband of some kind..." He made a face at the mention of the local variety. "I'm not sure if I've bitten him enough for him to gain one." He sniffed a bit haughtily, and then hummed, cupping Alastor's face to lean in to kiss him.

"Also, I could give you just some bottles of my venom, to try and figure out your own version of the anti-venom. Might even be fun, if you want to help milk it." He grins. "But that dose should counteract any more bites tonight-- but tell me if you feel nauseous, or if you get the chills."

Alastor

Alastor tightens his one-arm embrace when Telly kisses him again—he never thought he’d have a chance at this again, smooth scales under his bare skin. It feels so right.

“Oh, I get the chills just looking at you!” The song’s back—“*Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me—*” “What other symptoms should I watch out for? A racing heart? Lightheadedness? Sudden swoons? It might be too late for me!” He melodramatically presses a hand to his forehead—then laughs. God, it feels so good just to *say* that—without having to filter his words. “*Would* you let me have some of your venom?”

Sir Pentious

"Well, then, just tell me if you start to get nauseous." He laughs, and then slithers up onto the bed, taking Alastor with him. He lays among the pillows, letting his hand snake back under his shirt to start scraping against his skin again.

"Of course, as much as you wanted-- though I'm not sure if the classic 'drop in your drink' method of gaining a tolerance would work." He smiles, leaning in to let his tongue flick over the wound on Alastor's neck.

"Didn't know you liked Rocky Horror, darling. But I will _touch-a, touch-a, touch_ you all you want."

Alastor

He rolls onto his side so he can face Telly; and then, realizing that he’s still fully dressed from the waist down, lifts his feet one at a time so he can unlace his shoes and toss them aside. The flick over his wound stings lightly; it sends tingles up and down his neck.

“So you know it!” His face lights up. “It’s not one of my favorites—but it’s a place to go at midnight when all the other picture houses are either closed or showing porn!”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I do! Sad to say I've never gone to a midnight showing, only ever watched it on my projector here. But I enjoy it, it's very odd." Telly lets out another laugh, watching Alastor toss his shoes. He presses his lips to the wound, smearing some of Alastor's blood there, before moving down to where his neck and shoulder meet. There, he opens his mouth once more and bites down-- if Alastor likes this so much, well, he's more than happy to give him more now that he's had the anti-venom.

Alastor

“Really!” He beams eagerly. “We ought to fix that sometime. *Oh*—with costumes! *We can wear costumes.*” He could already imagine a beautiful future ahead of them: attending every silly little costume event the Pride Ring has to offer, dramatically playing with each other in character... stumbling home together through dark streets in the wee hours of the morning.

Alastor gasps again at the fresh bite—then lets out a giddy laugh. “All my life I’ve heard ‘he treated me like a piece of meat’ being used as a complaint! Please, if you ever feel the urge to bite a whole chunk out of me, don’t hold back.” He wraps an arm around Telly’s waist, drawing him closer—and then starts exploring his body again, running his fingertips up and down his back and dragging his thumb along the outer edges of his new gills. Every time he moves his arm, he can feel it deep in the shoulder muscle that Telly bit.

Sir Pentious

When he pulls back, mouth bloody, he smiles. "Costumes! Yes, absolutely. We both seem to love them, it seems, what better way for us to have fun." He coos.

The touches to his gills made him gasp, and he licks his blood covered teeth. His claws dug in again, and he kneaded, similarly to a cat. He moves his head, and then uses a hand to shift the collar of the shirt, letting him get at another piece of unmarred flesh. And he's biting again. At the end of this, Alastor would probably be covered in blood, but so would he, and he didn't mind that one bit.

"If I feel the urge, I'll be sure to indulge. Right now, all I want is to mark you up all over."

Alastor

Mark him—he likes the sound of that. He likes the idea of having proof that this really happened—something he can look at in the mirror tomorrow and SEE. Incontrovertible evidence.

He nearly digs his claws in when Telly bites again—without his gloves on, his claws are short and black, but still more than sharp enough to break skin—but he freezes, barely restraining himself. No, not that, not now. Instead, he nuzzles Telly’s face and murmurs, “Wasn’t I lotioning you before we got distracted? I believe I still haven’t gotten to most of you.”

Sir Pentious

He blinks. God, the lotion seemed like an eternity ago, he hardly remembers it. He flops back against the pillows and then nods. "Yes, you were. We got caught up in the euphoria of kissing, and biting, I suppose."

He laughs and his tail shifts, searching on the floor. A few moments later, and the tail fully returns to the bed, the lotion coiled in the very tip. "There it is~ Why not get back to it, and then I'll reward you with more bites. And perhaps it will bring forth the twins, as you called them." He snickers.

Alastor

"More? I'm going to leave here looking like Swiss cheese!" It's not a complaint.

He sits up, squeezes a bit more into his hands, and looks over Telly greedily. Oh, where to start? Every last inch available for him to touch as he sees fit. "Let's see... I think I got your back already... So let's start with..." He leans forward, running his hands along Telly's shoulders and collar bones, feeling the bones and muscles underneath, trying to memorize the shapes of them with his fingertips.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, as many as you can stand." He laughs.

When Alastor picked his spot to start, Telly shifted to allow him to reach whatever he might want. His tail moved as well, flipping to expose the bright yellow underbelly. The bed only fit ten feet, and usually he was coiled on it, so spreading out like this really showed just how long her was.

Alastor

"Oh, you're going to regret saying that! I have an amazing tolerance for pain."

His gaze travels down the length of Telly's body, drinking in the two-tone scales and the many eyes—he'll get down there soon enough. He returns his attention to Telly's upper body, moving down to his chest, carefully tracing around the central eye. Oh yes, this was *much* better than nail polish. Better smelling, for one thing. "You know, I wasn't just flattering you earlier. You truly are the single most beautiful being I've ever seen."

Sir Pentious

"I'll have to test it, then." He laughs, and then he bit his lip. He chewed a moment, forgetting his fangs in the need to chew on something. Compliments had that affect-- either a chewed lip or a tear filled eye.

But he stops after a moment and mutters a soft 'Ow.' as his tongue flicked out to lick at the wounds.

"You say that, but, I--" He makes a soft noise and sighs. "I'm sorry I'm still unused to compliments...I always find them hard to accept. But thank you. I know you mean it, and that means a lot to me."

Alastor

"So sorry!" He leans forward to kiss the wound—and get a taste of it himself while he's there. "Does that mean I should keep the compliments to myself? Or should I make sure you get used to them?"

Sir Pentious

"No, please, keep complimenting. I'd rather get used to hearing them, so that when it comes time for the rest of Hell to join in the flattery, I won't be coy about it." He laughs and winks.

Telly smirks slyly as a thought comes to him, and he wipes some of his blood onto his thumb. Then he leans over to spread it on Alastor's lips.

"Mm, that shade's is quite flattering on you." He laughs again and then reclines once more, pleased with himself.

Alastor

He'd hoped Telly would say that.

Before he resumes exercising his God-given right to ramble endlessly without ever shutting up, he lets Telly paint his lips, presses them together like he's smoothing out a layer of lipstick, and runs the tip of his tongue along the inner edge of his lower lip to taste it. It's going to be difficult resisting the urge to lick it straight off. Maybe he ought to start wearing lipstick regularly.

"In that case, I'll have to tell you all about how utterly mesmerizing you are when I watch you swim! Or how bone-chilling your villainous laugh is, or how spectacularly well megalomania suits you! Or how much you awe me with those brilliant machines you put out—so casually! And so quickly! Why, if you worked in magic rather than machinery you'd already be a god, if only you could build your private menagerie out of molecules and cells rather than clockwork parts. I truly believe you have a mind to rival God's, and if I'm wrong I dare Him to smite me for it!" He pauses to wait. He is not smote. "I guess I must be right!"

Sir Pentious

Telly can't help the nervous and almost embarrassed giggles that erupt from him, but his smile is wide. To think, Alastor thought that highly of him when the one of his own universe could spend hours on espousing the opposite. But he wouldn't let thoughts of his local variety sour any of this. He didn't belong anywhere between them. No, this space was theirs and theirs alone.

A contented purr came next and he wiggles against the pillows. He takes one of Alastor's hands and kisses it, leaving a smear of blood there, though the wounds are already starting to stop bleeding.

"You're truly flattering me, Alastor. Soon my true ego will match my bravado." He laughs again. "But please don't let that stop you!" His laugh turned to a cackle.

Alastor

That cackle is enough to give him goosebumps. "I hope they will match! Egomania would *also* look good on you!" He bends down to lick the blood off his own hand (pff, tastes lotiony), then kisses Telly again—and resumes trailing his hands down Telly's body, caressing his chest, his abdomen, and sliding around to his gills again.

Sir Pentious

He returns the kiss and really is loathe to let Alastor go back to touching him if it meant Telly had to break the kiss. But he did, giving another contented purr-- and then a sharp groan when Alastor got near the gills again.

"If these things are that sensitive, I truly wonder how they'll fair when I'm in my suit," He huffs. "They are interesting, though. I want to try them out soon."

Alastor

Oh, those beautiful sounds. It was almost too easy. "That *would* be distracting. I wonder if there's some avant-garde fashion designer somewhere who makes suits with open sides?" He laughs. "Or maybe it's because they're new! Right after I died, my ears and tail were much more sensitive. Not THIS kind of 'sensitive,' but..."

He continues his caresses throughout his talking, slowly trailing lower down Telly's sides toward his hips, back toward that spot Telly showed him earlier that he could now feel with his own bare skin. Hmm. River stone. Yeah. Maybe he could sneak Telly into the mortal realm—take him somewhere *nice* to try out swimming...

Sir Pentious

His breathing is mostly under control, though he can't help the small, downright needy noises that come out with every touch. He just wants to lay here forever, being touched by Alastor.

"I remember my eyes being extremely sensitive before my first shed, but I think that was more just irritation than anything."

Another gasp and he could start feeling the twins as Alastor so named them, starting to peek their heads out from their hidden spot in Telly's sheath.

Alastor

He wonders if the sensitivity was some sort of aftereffect of the way Telly had died—but he wasn’t about to ask and ruin the mood. "I've always wondered how you stand all those eyes everywhere! I suppose you've got some sort of protective layer over them, don't you—but even so! It can't be comfortable slithering around on them all the—oh, hello." He rests his hands on Telly's hips. Guess what he's just noticed?

He goes still and silent for a moment as he studies the emerging equipment, not with a look of lust or hunger but a sort of excited curiosity—eager to see now that the sheath is opening how it usually keeps itself so well-hidden, eager to see the shape of what it contains.

Sir Pentious

God above, he really truly was happy that he couldn't blush, or he'd be even more embarrassed. With how intently Alastor is staring, he can't help but feel self conscious. But he keeps that to himself, biting his lip again.

But despite the burning embarrassment he's feeling, his dicks still emerge, slowly, as they were wont to do. Compared to the rest of him, they don't look the most impressive, but at a solid nine inches, they were on the large end for any human measurements. Not to mention, well, there were two.

They glistened with the slick self lubricant Telly's sheath produced, and he took a short breath once they fully emerged.

"What do you think?" He asks, and immediately the embarrassment is tenfold. Wow, Telly, that was lame, that was super lame. He pressed one hand to his face to hide himself a bit. This was just....a lot.

Alastor

"... Uh." For a moment, he's at a loss for words—not because he's particularly awed or flustered, but rather because he ISN'T, and he knows full well that under the circumstances he's EXPECTED to be. He thinks they’re kind of strange, in the way that one would expect a rarely-seen human part that’s been partially mutated by an animal part to be before one gets used to it; and he also thinks they’re kind of pretty in the same way that he thinks all of Sir Pentious is kind of pretty. But neither of those seem particularly remarkable.

What's a good partner supposed to say when they see someone else's dick(s) for the first time? That question isn't covered in sex ed. Or maybe it is, Alastor wouldn't know, his school didn't have sex ed.

He's read pulp novels and smutty comics, what do they usually say when the dick comes out? Something about the size, typically. "Well," he says, "you're bigger than me." A beat as he rummages around for something else to say. "Good job!"

Sir Pentious

The hand comes off the face, and he just....blinks at Alastor a moment. Then he laughs, loud, deep laughs. It takes time a few moments to calm enough to speak.

"Oh, Alastor, I'm sorry, that was--" He giggles a few more times. "I've never had someone tell me 'Good job!' for having above average sized penises.....Penii? What's the right plural?"

He snaps himself out of thinking about that little conundrum and reaches to take Alastor's hands.

"I must say, you're adorable. Don't worry about figuring out the right words-- Penii are awkward to talk about." He leans in to kiss him and then smiles, more shy this time.

"Did you....want to touch them? You can, if you wish..."

Alastor

Alastor laughs too, near voicelessly and shoulders shaking. “I didn’t know what else to say! Bigger is generally considered better, isn’t it? It’s—you know—something most men are proud of? It seemed like something worth congratulating!” He laughs again, yes he knows it’s silly.

Adorable? He smiles self-consciously; he’s not sure about this whole *being adorable* business. “You’re one to talk, which one of us got distracted by grammar?” Kiss. “... I think it’s penes, actually.”

He glances back down at The Twins. “I suppose that’s the direction I was headed, isn’t it?” Yes, he does want to touch—but this is another one of those moments that has a bunch of pressure and expectations piled onto it, a weight granted by society at large’s obsession with things that have never mattered to Alastor. He’s not sure how he can touch without it being a disappointment to Telly.

Then better to get the disappointment over with and recover from there, isn’t it? If he puts it off that’s just going to further build up an inevitably underwhelming moment. “Do you have a preference? Or both at once?”

Sir Pentious

He still laughs a little at the grammar comment and shrugs. "What can I say, I'm a Semantics Snake."

He laughs at his own joke and then settles again, taking a deep breath. Well, here it was, the moment of truth, as it were.

"Oh, ah, whichever you wish. I have no preference, nor do you need to....do both at once. The feelings tend to blend anyway." He gave a slight shrug and settled back to....watch, he supposed?

Alastor

Surprised, he asks, “Blend, really? What, does touching both feel like only touching one? What happens if I try to rub circles on one and pat the other?” He wraps his hand around the nearest one like he definitely knows what he’s doing—sure he can handle a dick, he handles his own all the time—immediately lets go in surprise when it’s a lot wetter than he expected, and quickly grabs on again. “What is that—that’s not pre, is it?” It’s a lot, if so—but really, what does he know about how much other men have? He isn’t a doctor.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, them being so close together on my body makes the feelings sort of...combine? Like if you were to grab both, it would definitely feel more than just one, but--" He gets cut off when Alastor wraps his hand around and he gives a little gasp.

"O-oh, ah, um, no, it's not, it's....a sort of natural lubricant that my body produces. Otherwise it would be very uncomfortable when they...came out and whatnot." He laughed, a little breathlessly. "It certainly saves on buying the stuff in a bottle or what have you."

Alastor

“Oh! Makes sense!” He lets go to lick some of the lubricant off his hand to see what it tastes like, then grabs on again to explore the shape of it with his fingertips. “‘Twins’ wasn’t quite right, was it? More like a two-headed turtle, pulling its heads in and out of its shell.” He grins cheekily as he tugs at the edge of the sheath with his pinky.

Sir Pentious

The taste would be....actually quiet similar to Telly's blood, if a bit blander. He's about to say something else when Alastor grabs him again, and a groan comes out instead.

His breath hitches when he touched the sheath, and Telly starts breathing harder, just in general. "The-The sheath is also sensitive, it's full of nerve endings and the like, v-very sssensssitive."

He whines softly, arms shaking a little as he grabs the sheets. Boy is too sensitive for his own good it seems.

Alastor

“Is it!” Alastor leans across Telly’s tail, propping himself up with his elbow on the bed and his cheek in his hand, grinning sweetly and oh so innocently. “So, you’ll be able to feel it particularly well if I do... this?” He runs one finger around the sheath, tracing it from one side of the double dicks to the other.

Sir Pentious

Telly gasps and shudders, his claws tearing the sheets as he gripped them tighter. "Yes!"

The shout is more involuntary than answering his question, but there's another reaction far more exuberant than that-- Telly's tail, rushing to curl from its stretched out position, to coil around Alastor, around the waist, and then his legs. It gave a squeeze, but luckily, not one too hard.

Alastor

Alastor’s gaze darts to Telly’s face when he shouts, and stays there, watching him. Each little noise makes his ears twitch.

The coil wrapped nearest Alastor’s waist serves to alert him to the fact that he has, in fact, developed a boner himself—which is, as far as he’s concerned, an unsurprising but unwanted physical inconvenience in the middle of what’s been an otherwise good time, not unlike sitting in an odd position too long and standing to find one’s foot has gone numb. When he shifts in Telly’s coils to sit up and lean forward, he absentmindedly adjusts Telly’s coil to keep the pressure off of the party crasher so Alastor can stay focused on Telly’s reactions. “Keep making those beautiful sounds, would you?” With one hand he traces around the bases of Telly’s dicks and runs along the sheath, and with the other he reaches up to play with his gills on one side—and the whole time he watches Telly so intently he might not even be blinking.

Sir Pentious

Telly is too consumed by the pleasure to notice Alastor's boner, fortunately for Alastor. He's also not used to being told to be loud. More often, he's asked to keep it down. He keeps himself from biting his lip again, so as not to stifle the noises. His panting is the first noise, and then, moans and groans pour out of him, with every touch and stroke. And then--

"Alassstor!" Halfway between a whine and shout, he writhes on the sheets.

Alastor

He nearly claws into Telly’s side at the sound of his own name—and again just barely restrains himself. “Yes!” He leans half over Telly, gaze darting like a spotlight between his face and his writhing body, eyes shining bright with hunger and adoration. “Oh, let me hear that again!” Like the Phantom compelling Christine to keep singing, if the Phantom sounded like an overexcited 1920s radio broadcaster.

Sir Pentious

His tongue sticks out and stays out, as he pants, and his eyes meet Alastor's, wide and red-pink.

"Alastor, please, more." He whines. Telly's able to release the sheet with one hand, and reach over to press a claw against one of the bites he left.

"I want more."

Alastor

Alastor shudders as wonderful pain lances his shoulder. “Anything you want, *ma reine*.” As long as Alastor knows that he’s the one giving Sir Pentious that pleasure—as long as it’s his name being panted—Alastor will do whatever it takes to give him more of it.

Both hands move to Telly’s dicks and sheath—he might not have any conventional sexual experience, but he certainly knows how to give hand jobs, he’s been giving himself those for well over a century—and his arms’ shadows peel up and slide up Telly’s waist to wrap around his sides.

Sir Pentious

The shadows are odd, but not any stranger than the fact that Telly was a snake and Alastor a deer. They do, however, feel odder than actual flesh and blood hands, and that pulls his attention for a brief moment. At least, until Alastor's attention focuses on his dicks. A whine catches in his throat and he shifts under him.

"Please, _mon roi_," He murmurs, eyes shifting from Alastor's hands to his face. He didn't think today would be ending with him in bed with Alastor, but well, he certainly wasn't going to complain. Especially not when his hands were doing so much for him.

Alastor

Alastor didn’t think *any* day was going to be ending with him in bed with Sir Pentious. Although, to be fair, he sometimes forgets that “in bed with” is an item in other people’s lists of priorities until someone else reminds him. It’s still remarkable.

“Tell me what else you want.” He’s going to keep stroking, keep caressing, keep repeating the things that get the loudest groaning and most dramatic squirming, and pushing them farther wherever he can.

Sir Pentious

It takes him a good few moments to get his brain together enough to remember things he liked, other than everything Alastor was already doing.

"Bite me. I-I like being bit, too. I want some to match what I left on you." He pants and arches against his hands, moaning softly. "Otherwise, just keep going. It feels so _good_, Alastor."

Alastor

To this point he’s been loathe to spill more than a drop or two of Telly’s blood—but at the explicit invitation, his smile stretches even wider. “We’re going to be quite a pair, aren’t we.” He chuckles, straddling Telly’s waist so he only has to let go with one hand to help him keep his balance. He kisses Telly’s neck and collar bone—and then sinks his teeth in. Oh, *delicious*. He wishes he could take a chunk of muscle with him, he’d commit a thousand murders to find out what Telly’s flesh actually tastes like. The blood will have to be enough.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, we will--" He gasps when Alastor's teeth sink in, and then his eyes squeeze shut and he shouts out Alastor's name again. Now that he was closer, Telly's hands move around to Alastor's back, under the shirt, and rake down again-- a sure sign of approval from the snake.

"If anyone asks you...if you got into a fight... you have to answer 'You should see the other guy.'" He wheezes out a laugh, breathless as he is.

Alastor

He shivers under the claws. He can’t remember the last time he got torn up like this, but whenever it was, it couldn’t have been half this good.

His laugh is muffled—his fangs are still buried in Telly’s shoulder almost up to the gums. He releases his bite, licks up the first blood to seep out, and plants a kiss on Telly’s lips. “And if anyone asks, who won the fight?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before switching over to Telly’s other shoulder and giving it a matching bite.

Sir Pentious

He returns the kiss, hungry for the taste of his own blood on Alastor's lips. The bit he's smeared there earlier was now covered up with a fresh coat, that was nice. He laughs, his head tilting to give Alastor more space for his next bite.

"Hm, I think--" He gets cut off yet again by a moan tearing itself through him. His hips buck a bit underneath Alastor, begging for more attention.

"I think we both win..."

Alastor

“Mm-hmm!” He moves his second hand back down to Telly’s dicks—which means he can’t prop himself up anymore, but he can live with that. He can get up on his knees to give himself enough space to access the dicks; it’s an awkward angle, but it works.

And it means he’s resting on his chest with his head right next to Telly’s, letting Alastor listen to every lovely laugh and moan.

Sir Pentious

And purr, which is the sound that comes next. Telly turned his head to kiss him again, moaning against his lips.

"I think I'm close, Alastor. Go all out, make me climax," He whispers, his claws dragging down his back again.

Alastor

He thought he WAS going all out. He’s new at this, “bite” and “jerk” are the only two tools in his toolkit. He panics for half a second—what does Telly want for the grand finale, a musical number? (he could handle that, actually)—before he realizes he can just pick up the pace, can’t he?

That, and return to kissing, deeply and eagerly.

Sir Pentious

Turning up the pace certainly works, quite well, in fact. As does the kissing. Their mouths are pressed together when Telly is finally pushed over the edge, and he gasps into his mouth, muttering Alastor's name. His entire body shudders, hard, and that is a lot of body to shudder. His hips jerk up, and both of his dicks spurt in time.

"Ah...Alastor...."

Alastor

He keeps on jerking through the length of Telly’s orgasm, reveling in the sound of his own name and the feel of Telly’s entire body moving beneath him. Success! Mission accomplished!

At last he lets go and murmurs back, “Telly.” A light kiss. “Sir Pentious.” Another kiss.

Sir Pentious

"Alastor," He mutters in return, a blissed out smile on his lips. And then. "Torry." A giggle and then a kiss. "Or maybe....Astor? Do you like that?"

❤️📻🐍❤️ The Naughty Bits END HERE! ❤️📻🐍❤️

Sir Pentious

"Alastor," He mutters in return, a blissed out smile on his lips. And then. "Torry." A giggle and then a kiss. "Or maybe....Astor? Do you like that?"

Alastor

He’s silent a moment, trying out the nicknames in his head, listening to the sound of them. “Astor,” he repeats. “Astor, huh. Makes me sound like a star, doesn’t it.”

Sir Pentious

"It does. And it's fitting because you are one." He takes Alastor's chin in his fingers and kisses him again. "I figured that since I have a nickname, you should too. Would certainly help to make things less complicated when referring to you, rather than one of the others."

Alastor

Huff. He returns the kiss, then says ruefully, "Not for a long time, I haven't been a star. But it's a fine sentiment! Maybe again soon, who knows? Maybe as Marquesident Laufeyefferson." He laughs. “If my being in the show doesn’t scare the audiences away from the theater.”

Sir Pentious

"Mm, mm, none of that talk. You are a star, you're my star, and I'll see you shinning again." He smiles and pokes Alastor's nose as he speaks. And then there's another kiss and his arms wrap tight around the Radio Demon. "And you'll have at least," He pauses, mentally tabulating. "Three people there to see you in it."

Alastor

“Why, throw in duplicates and the hotel crew—who I’m *going* to make come—and we might have a dozen! You can fill the rest of the audience with eggs!” HUFF! "So you'll make me a star and I'll make you king of Hell. That's the deal, right?"

For some reason, saying it out loud like that makes him feel strangely emotional. He returns the embrace just as tightly and presses his face into Telly's shoulder, blood and all.

Sir Pentious

"I'll have to get cloning then!" He snickers.

"That is indeed." He laughs softly, his hand going to the back of Alastor's head, to pet his hair. "You're mine, now. I'm yours. We're ours." He's not quite sure what he's actually saying right now, more just rambling in the afterglow.

Alastor

"I'm yours. You're mine. And this is real." That's the hardest part to believe. That the snakeskin under his hands is attached to an actual moving thinking person, not a piece of python-printed leather. That he didn't imagine all the words playing back in his head. That he was given a chance, in spite of everything. *You’ll belong to me, I’ll belong to you.*

Sir Pentious

Telly purrs in contentment, one hand resting on Alastor's back as the other pets over his hair. "Do you want to sleep here? Don't have an other engagements to attend to, _mon roi_?" His tone is light and playful as his fingers massage the base of one of Alastor's ears.

Alastor

"You couldn't pry me off with a crowbar." He pauses. "Except to use the bathroom. We should probably both wash off, shouldn't we?" And Alastor needs to take the opportunity to jerk off. The human body, he's found, is something like a battleship with very poor communication between the sailors: if the men belowdecks peep out their portholes and see other ships nearby firing their cannons, they hasten to ready their own ship's cannon even if the captain above has no interest in using it.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I think we should. I do not like letting it, uh, dry on my scales." Telly shifted, coils loosening to free Alastor. He got up and moved towards a door on the far side of the room.

"I'm going to fill up the tub to wash, and you may join me or clean up in the sink if you'd rather that." He smiles. "But I absolutely would not mind if you joined me, were you so inclined."

Alastor

"You think that's bad, imagine letting it dry in your hair." He runs his fingers through the fur on his lower stomach.

On the one hand, getting to be with Telly in a tub. On the other hand, being in the tub, totally naked. "I'll take the sink! I need to look for bandages, anyway. And snoop through all your cabinets." Studio audience laughter. (No but he's definitely going to snoop.) "But I'll come bother you once I'm cleaned up."

Sir Pentious

"All right, then, I will be awaiting you in the true bathroom-- that is, the one with the bath in it." He let out a hissing laugh before slithering through the door, and then to the other at the far side. He started his bath, humming as he put his favorite mix of fragrances in.

Alastor

In the false bathroom, Alastor quickly disarms the uncooperative cannon, pulls off his shirt to wash it in the sink, scrubs off the mess that managed to get beneath the shirt hem... and then, in the process of cleaning off his wounds, stops and stares at himself in the mirror. That really happened, didn't it? How does he feel about that?

About a dozen different ways. None of which he has time to examine right now. Mute those stations and save them for when he's by himself—TRULY by himself, not a room away from somebody who's waiting on him. He digs out some first aid supplies, properly cleans and covers up his bites, and magically dries out his new shirt so he can pull it back on.

Then he pulls off his socks and garters so they won't get wet, tosses them at his other discarded clothes in Telly's room as he passes, and ducks into the true bathroom. “Tired of hanging out in here after a week of it?” Studio laughter. "Well? How do the gills work?"

Sir Pentious

Telly isn't even in the water when Alastor comes back-- but he is dripping and, for some reason, sneezing.

"I may have forgotten about them and put scented oil in the water and now it feels like I snorted it up my nose." Another sneeze.

"So I am rerunning the bath, this time without the oils, and hopefully that will clear things out." He smiles over at Alastor and gives him a once over.

"You clean up nice," He jokes.

Alastor

Alastor laughs loudly. "Oh, and to think I missed it! I chose the wrong bathroom!" He flings an arm around Telly's shoulders. "You poor thing. I guess chlorinate pools are out now, aren't they!" Pity, Telly did so love his fragrances—Alastor wonders whether any of his stock of plants, whether culinary or magical, could serve as an adequately fragranced substitute that wouldn’t irritate Telly’s gills.

Sir Pentious

"Most likely, until my body can adjust to having those sorts of things pass through the gills. I'll have to perform some tests."

He turns his head to kiss Alastor's cheek, before smiling as he slid back into the tub. He did love this in ground design-- so much more convenient for a snake.

Alastor

He sits on the floor next to Telly. "I don't know a lot of fish sinners, unfortunately, or else I'd recommend them to you to ask them questions. Learn from other people's mistakes and all that." After a moment of thought, he rolls up his pant legs so he can stick his hooves in the tub.

Sir Pentious

"Oh, I've missed those hooves," He coos, sliding over to where Alastor sat. "They're so cute, you should take off your shoes more." Under the water, his gills flared and then settled, repeating as he breathed the water.

Alastor

Cute, huh? He crosses his legs to lift one hoof up where it's easier for Telly to see them. The red fur that climbs almost to his knees is currently wet and slicked down and probably less cute than when it’s fully fluffy. “I haven’t had much reason to take them off! Just at the beach and in the bathroom. Although I suppose if I’m going to be spending—“ He realizes what he’s saying halfway through, stops himself, then sheepishly continues with his volume lowered, “... nights over here, from time to time...” It still seems too much to assume.

Sir Pentious

He pushed himself further out of the water to kiss Alastor, softly, and with love. "You're welcome to spend as much time here as you want-- You should know that I can't get enough of you." He winked-- and then his brain clicked and reminded him of something that was dreadfully important, especially under current circumstances.

"Oh! I need to tell you about Hel! Oh, I completely forgot to mention it before we started-- well..." He cleared his throat and chuckled. "She's fine with it, with this, with us. I spoke with her when I first was starting to develop feelings for you and we talked about it. Apparently, in her culture, it's actually quite normal and mundane to be polyamourous! But you don't-- you don't mind either, do you?" He suddenly looks QUITE nervous.

Alastor

OH GOD HEL. *OH GOD HEL.* OH GOD **HEL.** Alastor’s heartbeat sounds less like a timpani and more like a drum roll. He entirely forgot, in the excitement of the everything, that Telly is a taken man. What would his mother think of him. Alastor’s a home wrecker. Or—*worse*—Alastor is some rich British noble’s idea of a fun time before going home each night to his far more powerful and important wife—

OH no never mind, God, everything is fine. “Thank *goodness*.” Alastor’s muscles give out and he flops backwards onto the tile. Listen to the chirping of those invisible birds flying around his head. Now the back of his shirt’s wet. “I...”

...*Does* he mind it? He doesn’t know. He’s imagined what it would be like to be with Sir Pentious more times than he could begin to count, but he’s never considered the possibility that Sir Pentious might simultaneously be with someone else. Alastor’s rarely heard anything nice said about polygamous folks, but he’s noticed a high correlation between the kind of people who go out of their way to raise a big fuss about polygamy and the kind of people who raise a big fuss about queers and the mixing of the races, both of which Alastor happens to be heartily in favor of himself, and that makes him disinclined to put too much stock in such people’s criticisms of any *other* amorous arrangements. He’s known a few little trios or quartets that seemed perfectly happy, although he knows very little about their inner workings. But how does Alastor feel about being *part* of one?

He’s deferring that decision until later. “If she’s fine with it, I want to hear it out of her own mouth. No offense, I hold you in the *highest* esteem, but as a general policy I’m not going to take *any* man’s word for it if he says his lady is fine with him bedding random entertainers he happens to fancy.”

Sir Pentious

Telly watches as Alastor processes it and then as he flops back against the tile. He pulled himself up a little more, and a little bit out of the tub, to flop down beside him. "I will happily arrange that. She'll be glad to hear that we've both finally figured things out." He can't help a little snicker.

"I've been talking with her about my feelings for you this whole time almost, and she's been supportive of it. I just....didn't tell you sooner because I didn't know if you liked me in the same way. I think it's obvious now that we both were a bit blind, weren't we?" He slid closer, laying his head next to Alastor's. He took his arm in one hand and squeezed it, his other twining his fingers with Alastor's.

"I mean, how awkward would it have been for me to just blurt out 'my girlfriend is fine if we start dating!' and then it turned out you _weren't_ interested in me like that? I would've been mortified and it might've ruined the friendship we'd been building. I didn't want to do that. But well, now....now is a good time because now we both know, and that needs to be clear. And don't worry, I'm not expecting you to do anything romantic with her and I doubt she'd want to anyway. It'd just be that I'm dating both of you. I find it quite a novel thing, no one ever openly did such things when I was alive."

He hummed, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I should finish washing up. You....do still want to stay the night, right?"

Alastor

Alastor laughs. “That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard! Granted, it would have worked on me, but...” He trailed off as he processed the rest of what Telly had said.

“Blind, worried about reading too much into things, either or. Sure, I noticed you were... affectionate, but so’s the Sir Pentious I’m friends with, and it’s entirely platonic out of him.” (Either that, or he’s a much better liar than Alastor thinks. Which he refuses to believe is possible.) “What do you mean, ‘this whole time’? How long, exactly?”

Sir Pentious

Oh. He pauses in getting up, and instead of sliding back into the water, sits there on the edge of the tub. He'd hoped Alastor hadn't caught that. "Ah...well, I've....I've had feelings for you since....since the extermination vacation. That's when Hel and I first talked about it-- I talked with her after our swim and talk. And I've just been feeling more and more since then."

He looked sheepish, looking at the far wall as he drew his hood over his shoulder to pet in a self soothing way. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but again, I didn't want to make things awkward...."

Alastor

*That long.* Alastor marvels at that, staring at the ceiling. They could have had this torrid encounter on a beautiful beach... “Wicked Game” on the wind and Chris Isaak’s ghost smiling in approval... a giant alien sea serpent watching...

“You know, I think I’m glad it took this long! I probably would have gone with it then, but I... don’t think I knew you well enough to do this then.” He honestly still isn’t sure he knows Telly well enough to do this *now.* “I’m used to this whole process taking more like... fifteen years.”

Sir Pentious

"I understand. It seems I tend to move a little fast-- Hel and I met at the speed dating and then that grew fast, too. But one thing I know is my own feelings. Most of the time." He shrugged, turning to look at Alastor.

"We can slow things down now, if you want but I can't say that I'm not happy that we're here now. I like....everything being out there, all these feelings I've been holding inside finally where you can see them. I'm glad we don't have to tiptoe around one another, wondering if the other feels the same." He took Alastor's hand and brought it up to kiss.

"There's a lot we still need to learn about each other, but we can do it now without constantly wondering about our feelings."

Alastor

He squeezes Telly’s hand. “And believe you me, that *is* a relief.” He shuts his eyes, sigh. “But I wouldn’t mind slowing down a little now that we’re here.”

Sir Pentious

"Slowing down," He said, nodding and smiling. He leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I'm more than fine with that." He released his hand to slide back into the tub, grabbing a washcloth.

"Just give me a couple minutes and I'll be ready for bed, darling. I think I'll forgo the nightshirt tonight."

Alastor

Alastor cranes his neck to meet the kiss without having to sit up. "Fine by me." What’s *he* going to wear? Same as usual, he figures—boxers and t-shirt.

He props himself up on his elbows to watch while Telly cleans himself—and the way water rolls down his scales, and the way his muscles move and flex... "You know, you're pretty good looking from this angle, too." A disembodied wolf whistle plays.

Sir Pentious

Telly snorts and looks over his shoulder, giving Alastor a half hearted glare. He finishes up and then slithers from the tub and over to the heated towel rack-- freshly replenished by the Eggs when they'd taken away his shed. He started drying himself and then smirked at Alastor.

"Why not make yourself useful and grab a towel, hm? Instead of just oogling me like I'm a steak still dripping blood."

Alastor

He laughs. "Fine, fine!" He pulls his legs out of the tub, stands, and magically dries off the back of his shirt and seat of his pants—and takes two steps on his now-wet hooves, and immediately slips and lands face first on the floor. He lays there for a second, stunned. His shirt is wet again. Then he rolls on his back, lifts a hand into the air, and says, "You know, maybe I should just..." A towel flies across the room and into Alastor's hand. He holds it out to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly can't help the laughter that escapes him and his hand flies to his mouth. He slithers over and offers his hand to help him up-- at least to a sitting position.

"Oh darling, I'm sorry, but that was hilariousssss." He giggles more before offering the lower end of his tail for Alastor to dry. "No wonder you don't like walking on those hooves on tile. Hardwood is probably just as bad. Maybe I should get some rugs."

Alastor

"This is why I went into radio instead of musical theater." He accepts the hand, chuckling at himself. “That’s the great thing about shoes: traction!” Studio laughter. “How well does slithering work on rugs?”

Oh, Alastor gets to dry it? He does so almost reverently. They got "distracted" partway into the lotioning, Alastor never got an opportunity to lavish attention on Telly's tail. Time to make up for that.

Sir Pentious

"If it's something like an oriental rug, I should be fine."

Telly hums as he dries, and if Alastor listens closely and knows the tune, he would recognize it as part of your world from the little mermaid.

Every eye that Alastor approaches with the towel doesn't blink, but they did follow his movements, pupils dilating a bit. They watch him intently, almost adoringly, if eyes embedded in Telly's body could look at anyone with adoration.

Alastor

He doesn't see why they shouldn't be able to look at him adoringly. He makes direct eye contact with one and winks to see whether it winks back.

It takes him a moment to recognize the song—Disney musicals usually fall into "I'll watch it once to say I did" territory—but when he does, he cracks up. "You ARE a mermaid now, aren't you! Merman? Not a little one, though!"

Sir Pentious

It unfortunately doesn't. Not having eyelids will do that to an eye. It does, however, dilate a little further.

Telly's humming stopped when Alastor spoke and it took him a moment to understand what he was saying. He laughs after and shrugs a little.

"I suppose so! The Little Mermaid is my favorite of the Disney fare."

Alastor

"Really! I would have pegged you for more of a..." A moment of thought, then he admits, "Actually, I wouldn't have pegged you as a Disney fan at all.” He supposes the mermaid movie makes as much sense as any. What with the taste for sea shanties. And sea monsters. And sea. “Why The Little Mermaid?"

Sir Pentious

Telly gives him an affection, if sort of suffering look and lifts his arm to gesture to the gills.

"Thought that would be obvious by now, darling. What's not to love about a movie revolving around the sea with musical numbers and quite stunning animation?"

Alastor

"Okay, fair! Hah! I just wondered if there was *more* to it than that! Besides, a movie about trying to escape the sea? Why, you're more of a reverse Little Mermaid."

Sir Pentious

"It's more than that, more than even it's connection to the sea, it's a story about love and sacrifice, and it is decidedly queer, both versions of it-- I also loved the written version when I was alive. It resonates with me on many levels than just the surface." His face lights up a moment, and he laughs.

"Like the sea! More under the surface!" He giggles more.

Alastor

He gives Telly a surprised look. "Really? Girl meets boy, girl falls for boy, girl elopes with boy? Where's the queer part?" He pauses. "Besides the fact that the octopus is clearly a drag queen."

Sir Pentious

Telly looked at Alastor, his head tilting. "Have you never read about Hans Christian Anderson or Howard Ashman who wrote the songs for the Disney film? They were both homosexual, Alastor. And both put their own feelings into the character of The Little Mermaid herself. Part of your World is even Ashman lamenting that he wishes to be part of a world that would accept him for who he was and who he loved."

He slithered closer and cupped his face. "_I don't know when, I don't know how, but I know something's starting right now. Watch and you'll see, some day I'll be part of your world._"

Alastor

Alastor probably originally had something intelligent to say, but then Telly took his face and started singing directly to him, and now Alastor is automatically playing the orchestral accompaniment and utterly transfixed.

Sir Pentious

Telly almost loses the song when the orchestra kicks in-- well seems he'd have to get used to music accompaniment when he sang instead of his usual acapella.

"See? When it is sung by a man, doesn't it feel different? It's a song for everyone who ever felt like they didn't belong in the world to which they were born."

Alastor

Sir Pentious

Telly almost loses the song when the orchestra kicks in-- well seems he'd have to get used to music accompaniment when he sang instead of his usual acapella.

"See? When it is sung by a man, doesn't it feel different? It's a song for everyone who ever felt like they didn't belong in the world to which they were born."

Alastor

"Uh." Garbled stations as Alastor clears his throat. "It certainly feels different when *you* sing it." At the moment he's a little too twitterpated to register deeper nuance than that.

Sir Pentious

He laughs and kisses him. "Well, I hope you get used to it, because it's often what my mind latches on to when I am distracted by other things."

Telly strokes Alastor's ear once before shifting his tail towards him. "Now, let's finish getting me dry, and then we can lay down."

Alastor

Kiss! His lips are going to be numb by the time he leaves. “I, for one, hope I never get used to it.”

Right, back to work—hah, work. He continues lovingly drying every inch of Telly’s tail.

Sir Pentious

It doesn't take long with the both of them, to get him dry-- certainly less time than when he's alone. And once they're done, Telly's leaning down to, ayup!, lift Alastor into his arms bridal style.

"Don't want you falling again, dear."

Alastor

He reaches up toward Telly, expecting he’s about to be given a hand to get to his feet. He does NOT expect to be lifted into the air. He flails in surprise, arm flung around Telly’s neck, heart hammering in panic, until he registers what’s happened and stares at Telly. Oh. *Oh.*

A disembodied song clicks on: “*Sha-la-la-la-la-la, music play, do what the music say, you gotta kiss the girl—*”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughs softly, and hums along with the song for a moment. Then he leans down and does as the song says, and kisses the ~~girl~~ deer demon. He lets his lips linger there and then pulls back, slithering towards the door. Through it and then through the next, and they're back in the bedroom. But Telly doesn't set Alastor down, nope, he carries him all the way to the bed and then lays him down with a large amount of gentleness.

"Ready to get out of those pants?" He asks.

Alastor

Telly could toss Alastor down like a sack of potatoes and he’d be happy. He’s not used to all this gentleness. He’s not sure how to register being treated tenderly.

“Oh, very ready!” He reaches to unbuckle his belt, pauses, then laces his hands behind his head. “You know what? I bet you’d enjoy doing the honors a lot more than I would.”

Sir Pentious

Telly's brows raised and his smile took a turn for the salacious. "Oh my, getting to remove the Radio Demon's pants? What an honor~"

His hands moved to Alastor's waist, sliding down slowly to grab at his waistband. Telly tugged them down, and off, tossing them aside. "There we go, the Radio Demon, pantless."

Alastor

He lifts his hips a little to give his tail room to slide out of the slit in the back of his pants, then flops back down. Behold, the Radio Demon’s underwear. He wears red-and-white vertical-striped boxers that are so old-fashioned they’re held up with tiny buttons instead of an elastic waistband.

He removes his monocle and tucks it away... somewhere? “Not half the honor of spending the night in the great Sir Pentious’s bed!”

Sir Pentious

Oh, he hadn't even noticed the monocle had stayed on until Alastor removed it. Interesting. He slithers up onto the bed, coiling around Alastor and then tugging him close to his chest. "The first of many, hopefully."

He laughs, and kisses him again, his hand rising to stroke at Alastor's ears. He sighs softly and then speaks once more. "I could....sing more, if you wish? I don't do it usually around other people, but I will for you. Again."

Alastor

He wraps his arms around Telly and shuts his eyes. “I cannot begin to tell you how much I want to hear you sing more.” He shivers pleasantly and his ears twitch contentedly under the stroking. He really gets to stay here, all night.

Which is as frightening as it is thrilling. He opens one eye a slit. “It won’t bother you if I’m fidgety or wander off during the night, will it? I’m restless at night. I promise I’ll come back, I just need to move around.”

The last time he tried this, he spent the entire night wide awake in bed, unable to distract himself, staring at the sleeping form next to him, going over what had just happened again and again and again until by dawn he felt like he had no choice but to run. He ISN’T going to repeat that mistake this time. Maybe taking a 3 a.m. walk rather than just lying there will help keep himself from panicking again.

Sir Pentious

"That will be find. I'm a light sleeper, so if you need me to move my coils, just wake me. I'll fall back to sleep soon after, too. Feel free to explore, though there's not much you haven't seen already. But you know where I keep the violins, so if you feel like doing something, feel free to play." He smiles and kisses his forehead. "Just make sure to come back to me."

Telly settled back down, holding Alastor against his chest. "All right, any requests? If not, I may just default to some more Disney. They write some earworms for those animated features!"

Alastor

“I will, never you fear.” Violin, would that steady his nerves? Couldn’t hurt. Might take it outside so he doesn’t wake Telly. “If I need to wander around, I’ll go check them out.”

He lets out a slow sigh, static rushing out of him in a gush. “Whatever you want to sing. I want to learn what you like.”

Sir Pentious

Telly nods and settles down on his back, making sure Alastor close as he thinks. He lets out a little ah-ha! as he starts to sing.

"_I know you/I walked with you once upon a dream/I know you/That gleam in your eye is so familiar a gleam/And I know it's true/That visions are seldom what they seem/But if I know you/I know what you'll do/You'll love me at once/The way you did once/Upon a Dream._"

Alastor

He has just enough time to register the lyrics and affectionately think oh, how fitting, and then he’s gone. Bam. Mr. I’m Just Too Restless There’s No Way I’m Going To Fall Asleep And This Entire Night Is Going To Be A Tense Anxious Trial is out like a light one song in.

Which means Telly gets to find out some very interesting trivia: when Alastor falls asleep, his constant passive radio broadcast shuts off. And when it shuts off, Alastor does what every other station in the 1930’s did at the end of the nightly sign-off: play the national anthem.

Which means one second Alastor’s drifting off peacefully, and the next second—without Alastor stirring at all—the air is filled with the song Lucifer picked as Hell’s anthem: a nearly-but-not-quite-dignified marching band cover of a polka song.

Sir Pentious

He's surprised by the anthem, certainly, but then a fond smile comes across his lips. He waits for it to end before he starts humming Once Upon a Dream again, settling down to get himself some shut eye too.

#usedhearts #chat log #((FINALLY))#((we wrote this back in like. December???))#((and have been trying to get the plot up to this point ever since. AT LAST WE’RE HERE))

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soyouareandrewdobson · 5 years ago

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Sunny Sundays: Scoob

So as not to be too negative by always focusing on dumb webartists and their lack of taste in certain media or decent opinions, I decided that at least once a week I also want to talk about something more positive on my tumblr. Something about animation to enjoy, instead of using it as a bullet point for a sex fetish disguised as social awareness unlike someone else.

As such, lets talk about a little movie that came out this week on demand about a franchise that had goten rebooted more times than a certain timelord. At least that is what it feels like.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Scoob!

Scoob is the recent major entry into the Scooby Doo franchise and weirdly enough, though there is a ton of animated movies that came out for TV and on DVD, the the first animated feature of the franchise to actually be released in theaters. ... or rather it would be, if we didn’t live in a Stephen King novel, forcing Warner to release it on the internet for demand.

Now the Scooby Doo franchise is as of now pretty damn old. starting back in 1969 and having multiple incarnations of it over the years with the last succesfull one being the highly recommended “Mystery Incorporated”, which featured of all things the group not only dealing with their typical guys in masks each week, but also an ancient conspiracy involving a cosmic terror from another dimension, cameos of other famous Hanna Barbera characters and even good old Harlan Ellison having a cameo to. But some people with no idea how a good story trumps over shipping only know the show as having Velma and a girl that smells of hotdogs being shipped. If you do not belong to that group of people, I highly recommend you to watch it because it is really good. And certainly more entertaining than the shows that followed next, aka “Scooby Doo Go” and “Here is a show all about cameos being more obvious than in the old days”.

Anyway, what I try to say is, Scooby Doo despite being rather old and having been both mocked and appreciated over the years, is still very popular and can with the right amount of care and silly fun be at the very least an entertaining ride. So did this movie deliver on that, or did it become as disappointing as “Return to Zombie Island”?

I will try not to spoil too much in this “overview” about the movie, but here is basically the deal: For starters, it is a Scooby Doo movie that misses one itsy bitsy major thing that actually makes a Scooby Doo story out on average. A mystery.

See, the movie first begins with a semi origin story for Scooby and the gang, which honestly is pretty damn adorable to watch. Shaggy meeting a stray Scooby as a pup, both becoming friends, meeting at Halloween Fred, Daphne and Velma for the first time and actually solving their very first mystery, all in the span of like 10 minutes? It is great and I would love to see an animated series about those alone. You know, a reboot of “A Pup named Scooby Doo”. Unfortunately, that is as far as we get with a “classic” Scooby Doo story as after the introduction, Simon Cowell essentially breaks the group apart and it becomes a Marvel superhero movie inspired flick.

Nope, I am not. Which btw, is actually not meant as a criticism.

Yeah see, Mystery Inc wants to be a more serious enterprise and so Simon Cowell has been brought on board to finance them, but only of Shaggy and Scooby leave. Which they do. After that dated cameo of a celebrity (Which actually feels rather in tone with the legacy of the franchise, if you think about the “good old days”) Shaggy and Scooby find themselves shortly thereafter being hunted by robots, only to be rescued by another famous Hannah Barbara character: The Blue Falcon and his trusty sidekick Dynomutt! Or rather Mark Wahlberg having to learn how to be a decent hero and the second best character in the entire movie.

The original Blue Falcon has retired and this Blue Falcon is the son of the original one who still has to learn how to be a smart hero instead of trying to be an “impressive” hero (in other words, Booster Gold’s showman aspects played up to 11) while Dynomutt has certianly become a bit of a deadpan snarker over the years.

Anywa,y they have come to help Shaggy and Scooby, who are hunted by Dick Dastardly of Wacky Racers fame, who is after Scooby for some nefarious reason, as well as the heads of demon guard dog Cerberus, which if assembled will open the Gates of Hell. As such Shaggy, Scooby and the Blue Falcon group have to stop Dastardly and save the world, while the rest of the team tries to find out what happened to them and in doing so gets involved into the entire adventure too. An adventure field to the brim with references and major on screen cameos by Hanna Barbera characters, to the point the entire thing could also just be called “Hanna Barbera Avengers assemble”.

This movie... it is weird but in some of the best ways possible. To get it out of the way, I do not think it is a very good kids movie storywise. As in, on one hand it does not have any despicable messages to it and there is actually a surprisingly high level of quality to it, on the other hand, it is not as if this movie has become the Hanna Barbera equivalent of Wall-E, Onward, How to train your Dragon or some Miyazaki flick. It is basically a Hanna Barbera crossover fanfiction as an animated feature, that reimagines the characters design wise slightly to look like ore accesable toys for kids to sell nowadays, than the orignal designs from the 70s and 80s. The plot as said abandons the mystery aspect completely for a saving the world from a comic book supervillain story, even with obligatory hole in the sky during the climax (seriously, when does Hollywood realize what kind of clichee it is) , third act break up between Scooby and Shaggy and out of nowhere “sacrifice” at the end. If you want more details on that, I recommend watching the movie or reading up on a 4chan post that goes around the net from a couple of months ago, when someone leaked the movie back then. Turns out that not everything on /co/ is garbage made up by others. Anyway, the plot is just not what you would expect from Scooby Doo. Which says a lot considering their direct to DVD features within the last years included also crossovers with the WWE and KISS. So you would expect it could not get weirder. But this movie kinda does, while also just having storystructure wise clichees to it you have seen a million times already in both better and worse features. And yet, if you like Hanna Barbera cartoons in general, I think you can find something in that movie. Not necessarily a good story from start to end, but just a entertaining Hanna Barbera cartoon, that is not quite as “dumb” as its source material but also does not try to be ultra serious and embraces the sort of humor it came from. If that however is not enough for you, and you want some very very deep story about social issues in animated form... well, I either suggest watching something not done by Disney you animation snob.

From a technical level now, I would say the movie is a bit more complicated to “review”. The voice acting is not horrible, but there are moments where the fact they got not the original cast to do the voices and instead give us celebrities like Zac Efron, is obvious. Some dialogues just don’t work as well as they should, but no one does a completely horrible job. Animation wise...

Well, it is a movie that does actually a good job getting the Hannah Barbera designs into a decent computer animated shape for the 21th century. It really feels like a Hannah Barbara cartoon on the screen. Unfortunately, when it comes to background characters....

...it feels only slightly above Miraculous Ladybug levels in my opinion. The animation is not all over the place, but you can see that it was not Pixar working on it. Which actually sorta brings up another “problem” with the movie. The problem being that as a whole it does not quite feel like it is a movie that belongs on the big screen. It is an entertaining animated movie, don’t get me wrong. But if I may be “snobish” for a moment, I think in terms of presentation and story it just doesn’t quite reach okay movie theater flick level. It is above what we should get from a made for TV or DVD production but just doesn’t reach the next level by a few inches. Which is sad, cause I think there was actually still a lot of effort put into it and a certain love of the source material. Or rather source materials, seeing how it is not just Scooby Doo here. And yet, despite its obvious flaws, including some really dated humor that made my eyes roll but is not breaking the movie for me... I recommend it. If you like Scooby Doo as a whole, I think you may like this one a lot. I just think that 20$ on demand is way too much. An animated serie sin that style however would suffice a lot Hope that piece of an opinion was helpful and that if you decide to watch it, you will have as much fun as I had (or even more) . And please don’t let me be the only one on this planet who thinks that of all the characters in it, Dick Dastardly is actually one, if not the most entertaining one. Cause heck, I liked him. And I never had imagined to see a heartfelt scene with him as a central character.

#scooby doo #scoob movie #scoob spoilers #scoob #adobsonart #adobsonartworks #western animation #animation #hanna barbera #blue falcon #dynomutt #dick dastardly #movie

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asktheghosthost · 5 years ago

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Far more eerie than any pop-up ghoul or murderous bride in the attic was the quiet that had taken over the Magic Kingdom. Beauregard couldn't even compare it to a typical midnight. Midnight still had a handful of Cast Members tending to all of those technical tasks that magic was too confused about to bother with. Midnight could still have the distant wheezes and rumbles of traffic. It was as if the world had halted. If he hadn't noticed a squirrel digging in the front yard cemetery, he would have believed time was frozen.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed, announcing it was two p.m. Two p.m. and the park was deserted.

With a sigh that was more of a groan, he pushed himself up out of his chair and headed... elsewhere. It didn't matter where. He needed a distraction from the depressing lack of mortal guests. For several days now, (he'd lost count), there'd been no screams, no giggles, and--worst of all-- no sympathetic vibrations from lively visitors. It was making all of the ghosts of the Haunted Mansion restless.

As he wandered further down one dark hall and then the next, a curious scent wafted to his nostrils. It was sweet, pleasant, and had a strong hint of ginger. He followed it along until it brought him to the kitchen.

Inside, the former Gracey coachman/ fellow happy haunt/ regular graveyard tea party participant Dustin T. Dust was busy taking out his second tray of cookies from the oven. It was then placed to cool on a table that had not only the first tray of cookies, but a dozen blueberry muffins. And now he was returning to a mixing bowl to stir up more batter.

Beauregard cleared his throat. "Dustin..."

"Gah!" Dustin yelped, nearly dropping his bowl and fumbling it to safety. "It's just you, sir," he said with a nervous chuckle. He set the batter aside so he could adjust his glasses.

"Beau," Beauregard corrected. "No 'sir's for me." Hands behind his back, he mosied over to the table to get a closer look at the treats.

"'S hard not to call the great Ghost Host 'sir.'" Dustin had gone back to stirring. The big bowl seemed too hefty for his wiry frame, but not only was he holding it up just fine, he was also incorporating some dance steps as he moved about the kitchen.

"Oh please." Beauregard realized he needed to tuck his noose under his waistcoat lest it brush against the muffins, and quickly did so. "We used to work together as servants in this household." He frowned. "It's not as if I get to do much ghost hosting now, anyway, what with..." He trailed off, looking up to meet the other man's gaze.

Dustin shared his look of worry for a moment, but then put on a smile. "Things will be right as rain soon, sir, er, Beau. The mortals just need to be extra cautious." Another tray had already been set up, and he was scooping out small dollops of what would soon be snickerdoodles. While those were cooking, he turned his attention on the ginger cat shaped cookies that had finished cooling, and began decorating them.

Beauregard watched him add tiny chocolate sliver whiskers. "What exactly are you doing, Dustin? With all this, I mean?"

"Well, when there's nothing to do, but I'm still anxious, I get to stress baking... So long as the cook isn't around. She never liked me in the kitchen. Said I smelled like horses." His mouth twisted into intense concentration, tip of his tongue sticking out just past his buck teeth. Those tiny whiskers were always tricky.

"I shouldn't be anxious, really," he went on. "We can't get sick, not with mortal illnesses, anyway. Maybe I'm just jittery from the lack of guests." Half the cats now had whiskers, he realized proudly. "Mum and dad were bakers. They had a little shop back home in London. It's where I learned it..."

As Dustin went on, something dawned on Beau, and he straightened up with a strange look of clarity on his face. "We can't catch it..."

Dustin stopped mid autobiography. "No. We're dead."

"We're dead... and we have enough baked goods to fill a burial plot..."

"That's a rather morbid measurement..."

Beau grinned. "Dustin, there's a whole kingdom full of our neighbors, shut indoors, worried, likely bored to tears!"

Dustin countered with a smile of his own. "Neighbors who would welcome a gift basket and a friendly visit. Brilliant, sir! See, you're still an excellent host."

"Ghost Host," Beau corrected, grabbing an apron for himself. "Let's see how many more treats we can make by dusk, and then I'll ask if Dorian has any flowers he'd be willing to part with."

The two quickly got to work.

Later that night, a hearse, pulled by an invisible horse, rolled through the streets of the Magic Kingdom. At the sound of clomping hooves, residents of the park would pull back their curtains to peek out, wondering if this was some tasteless joke. Moments later, they'd find it was actually a tasty greeting when either the Ghost Host, Master Gracey, or the coachman would come knocking on their door bearing a basket full of sweets and flowers.

It didn't end at the Magic Kingdom, either. The ghosts were sure to deliver baskets to the Imagination Institute, much to the delight of Figment. (Dr. Channing was quick to point out that the little dragon really didn't need any extra sugar in his hyperactive system, thank you very much.) They stopped at Elsa's ice palace, had one basket just straight up snatched by a flock of seagulls screaming "MINE!", and quietly left a gift for the yeti at Mt. Everest. One basket was flung into the elevator shaft of the Hollywood Tower Hotel, because the spirits knew better than to directly engage the Twilight Zone lest they get trapped, too. Harrison Hightower III tried to trade a basket for the Shiriki Utundu, which the ghosts explained wasn't necessary, and they fled before he could he could attempt to leave the idol with them. Henry Mystic and Albert got plenty of banana bread to share.

All in all, it was a very long but very rewarding night.

By the time they had returned to the mansion, a note was waiting for them on the door. Dorian plucked it up, and read it out loud:

Dear ghosts of the Haunted Mansion,

When times are frightful, it's easy to get swept up in the uncertainty, and completely forget that everyone around you is trying to cope, too. Simple acts of kindness-- such as yours-- ground us, unite us, and remind us all to never lose our empathy and compassion. Thank you.

We're so proud to call you 'family.' See ya real soon!

-Mickey and Minnie Mouse

All three ghosts looked at the letter a moment longer, before sharing glances with one another.

"You know," Dorian began slowly. "I bet I could make some lovely wreaths... and flower crowns, and we could hand those out this weekend..."

"We could pack a lot of books in that hearse," suggested Beauregard. "Our library is well stocked, after all..."

"I bet I could convince the graveyard band to perform in the streets, give people a concert right outside their windows," said Dustin.

And thus one idea led to another, enough to bring a little joy to every day the parks were closed.

#fic #drabble #fan fic #story

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sigilscriber · 4 years ago

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You’re a Witch??? Rant ahead

Today, like so often, I got that same reaction when I told someone at work I was a practitioner. As always the sterio-typical “But witches are women” was the first thing that crossed their mind. But it often goes beyond that when it comes to me.

I am also tagged with “Where is all your crystals and pendants?” “I thought they only where black?” “Where are your robes?” “Where are your rustic renaissance clothes?” “Where are you goth clothes?” “What is you wand?” “What school can I apply to?” “Is there really a sorting hat of sorts.” “Where is your familiar?” “Do you know Alyssa Milano?” “You must have thousands of books” “My bosses best friends daughter is Wiccan?” “Aren’t you actually a Wizard?” “Can I see your book of spells?” “Ooooooooooh My daughter soooo loves Sabrina.” “My ancestors lived in Salem during the trials” DEEP SIGH!

Thanks Hollywood,

I guess we went from being classed as being green and ugly to being new age- sparkly-hippies, battling monsters and bad witches. No change. Still mis-represented. If even more so.

On average I am just your average college guy. No robes or outrageous garb, no crystals or rings, no piercings. Not even a tattoo. Okay I DO have one heptagram pendant that I wear under my shirt (Just like a Christian or Jew.) And yes I admit I do have a small collection of mortar and pestels and herbs. I just happen to like the shapes and makes of different mortars. I do have a wand but it stays in the draw of my altar. I am not bashing people that do where and have all that gear, clothes and stuff. To each their own. I’m not into hats at all, not into robes and ren shirts. I do not even have a car slathered with tons of witch stickers. I do not need that stuff. Yes, I do have a special pair of jeans and T shirt I like to wear for certain ceremonial works. But even the shirt is just a plain blue t-shirt. Nothing on it. I mean if you saw me crafting, I would look like a pain ordinary guy. I do not have a book of spells of Shadows. I do however have a prayer book I made. I use to have tons of books, but realized it was all the same wiccan stuff being written over and over and over and over and over and over. I ditched them all.

And this whole idea that because I am a witch, people think the only way they can relate to me is bringing up something like “Oh I know someone who sells crystals in Australia” or “Do you know Rowling?” Point of fact. not only do I NOT know her but I LOATH her. She is the cause of my bitterness.

There are days when people pull this on me I feel like asking “Oh you are Christian? Can I see your bible? Do you know Archbishop Wenski? Why are you not wearing a head covering? Yeah I had a Christian relative that was mauled by lions in Roman. Of course I won’t but there are days....

Its bad enough that they continue to make shows and movies that makes ANYONE that’s remotely new age or a witch like they are some comical nerd, dim-witted or clutz. There are times I would love to see a show were the family is Pagan or witches and look and act as normal as anyone else or even well-off, but its the Christian/Jewish neighbors that are made to look like the “freaks”. And seriously, if I ever met Rowling or the creators of Salem, Charmed or Sabrina I would probably bash their heads in with the closest thing I could grab. And you seriously do not want to know what I would do to the asp-hole creators of Supernatural and all those Ghost Hunter shows.

They think its cute to play around and make TV series and movies out of peoples seriously dedicated arts and lives. Let see them make a “Magickal/MIracle” movie about a church of Christians VS Jews. Have them casting “miracles” like parting water, multiplying food, turning furniture into animals. burning flora and water into blood. Lets have a movie where kids go to a different monasteries and learn to make holy water and oils, learn prayers to battle other monasteries. They can be based off of the 4 arch angels and can be chose by an animated rabbi hat. The headmaster can be Noah. And they can get helper cherubs. And it all can take place in the Garden of Eden that they reach by a golden elevator shaped like an arc. Oh and there will be giants, unicorns, fauns, phoenixes, talking snakes and dragons (Because all of these creatures are mentioned in the bible as real) Yeah and the Jews and Christians can turn each other to pillars of salt. And hey, lets have prayer beads and rosaries bestow special powers like strength and invisibility. I mean why not????

Lets have a Show where the family is Pagan/Witches living in a nice house in Suburbia, dad is an executive and mom is a teacher. No special effects, no house with tons of “supposed “ withy stuff is strewn everywhere. No mention of them being pagan or a witch. Maybe just one small pentacle or sacred symbol on the far wall. Now and then at dinner they will have a meal blessing. Have the friend/neighbor be some half wit blonde Christian with huge hair that’s like “Oh I have a rosary for that” any time a problem pops up and works in a Christian book store.

In short: No. Not ALL witches wear tie-die shirts with pentacles on it, Not all witches where tons of rings and pendants. Not all look like some uber goth chick or stoner hippy. Not all have arms emblazed with tattoos. Not all have spell books. Not all live in Victorian/Georgian manors with herbs and glass baubles everywhere. There is no wrinkled elves, Hogwarts or invisibles trains. Some of us wear suits or gym clothes, live in Levitown houses and 40 floor apartments and do not have a single tattoo or crystal. We do not go to special invisible schools nor battle evil witches and monsters with wands. The only robe we wear are bathrobes and the only hat we wear is a hoodie or driving cap.

#witch #rant #harry potter #the craft #charmed #sabrina #supernatural #ghost hunters #christian #jew

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angelofthequeers · 5 years ago

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Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Summary: “I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.”

How differently might the events of season 2 have gone if Adrien had also known of Master Fu from the start?

Chapter 2 | AO3 link

“Hawkmoth?” Adrien’s eyes bulge at the sight of the supervillain in the book right before him, sketched on the ancient page with the utmost of care. “What’s this monster doing in a book about superheroes?”

“About…what?” Plagg abandons his Camembert hunt to zip back out of Gabriel’s safe, which he and Adrien had just broken into after spying Gabriel hiding something behind a portrait of Emilie in his atelier. And that something is this book that’s got Plagg looking like he’s been hit over the head by a baseball bat.

“You said a second ago that you’ve seen this book before,” Adrien says. “Is it important?”

“Is it – is it important?” Plagg facepalms. “You know what you’re holding, kid? Pure gold! Something that’s been lost for over a century!” He squints down at the book, as though he’s wrestling with himself.

Okay, what the hell is going on right now?

“I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.”

Adrien blinks and flips the page to reveal a new hero clad in deep blue, holding a large fan spread wide like a peacock’s tail. “What’s so special about this book? It’s just got pictures of Miraculous heroes. Is there more information or something?”

“You don’t even know, kid,” Plagg says. “That book’s got all the secrets about us. In the wrong hands – wait.” He looks from the peacock hero back at the safe, then back at the book, then darts to the safe and pokes a little brooch in the shape of a peacock’s tail. “Adrien, you gotta take this too.”

“The brooch? But why –”

“Just take it, alright?” Plagg shouts. “But don’t touch it!”

Adrien jumps and, on autopilot, does as he’s told, grabbing a tissue out of his pocket to scoop the brooch into his bag. “Sorry –”

“No, no, I’m sorry.” Plagg slumps in mid-air. “This is just – this is huge, Adrien. That’s the Peacock Miraculous and it was lost when the Butterfly was. And there’s something weird about it. Something damaged. Can’t tell if Duusu’s off too, so just don’t summon her.”

Like some sort of terrible jigsaw puzzle, the pieces start to click together in Adrien’s mind. “Are you saying that –”

The sound of footsteps causes his heart to leap into his throat. With a gasp, he shoves the book into his bag too and closes the safe and painting of Emilie. And not a moment too soon; as soon as he’s darted away from the painting, Nathalie and his bodyguard enter the room.

“Adrien? You’re going to be late,” Nathalie says. Adrien laughs, fumbles out an excuse about looking for his homework, then follows them outside, with the bag slung over his shoulder practically scorching a hole in his side.

Lila. Lila. Lila, Lila, Lila.

That’s the only name on everyone’s lips when Marinette enters the school with Alya that morning, half an hour early for once in her life. Seriously, are they being visited by royalty? Lila knows Prince Ali, Jagged Stone, Steven Spielberg…

“And Ladybug!” Alya thrusts her phone at Marinette to reveal a video on the Ladyblog with this new girl in the thumbnail. “She’s besties with Ladybug and she gave me an exclusive interview!”

“Uh…Alya, I don’t think that’s true…” Marinette says slowly. How is she going to point this out without incriminating herself as Ladybug? She can’t exactly just up and say that she’s never met this Lila Rossi before.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Alya says. “She’s got the most amazing life!”

“But she’s new, right?” Marinette says. “How could she be best friends with Ladybug if she’s new?”

“Ladybug saved her life once.” Alya nudges Marinette with a smirk. “You’d know that if you watched more than two videos on my blog.”

“Ladybug’s saved half of Paris,” Marinette points out. “Lila’s not the only person she’s saved.” She hasn’t even saved Lila before. “If anyone was going to be her best friend, I’d think it’d be someone like you, right? You’re the one she gave that interview to. She wouldn’t even think of agreeing to that interview when I asked until I mentioned that you’d be the one interviewing her. She’s only saved Lila once, but she’s talked to you loads of times.”

“Oh – well, I mean, you’ve got a point there.” Alya practically swells before Marinette’s eyes.

“And even if Lila was Ladybug’s best friend, don’t you think it’s a little irresponsible that she’s bragging about it?” When Marinette’s on a roll, she’s on a damn roll. “What if Hawkmoth sees that interview? If Lila’s telling the truth, he could totally use her against Ladybug!”

The blood drains from Alya’s face. “Shit. Shit. I didn’t even think – shit, I gotta take it down!” She fumbles to unlock her phone and navigate to the Ladyblog, where she swiftly deletes the video with a sigh. “All those views…”

“I’d say the life of a civilian is more important than views, right?” Marinette silently vows to drop by Alya’s place sometime and give her the best damn interview ever to make up for this.

“True…” Alya frowns over at the brunette who’s surrounded by people who are hanging off her every word. Ah. Lila Rossi in the flesh. “You know…it is kinda unbelievable that she knows all those people. Jagged Stone, sure. Prince Ali…well, her mother is a diplomat. But all the Hollywood directors? Do diplomats even talk to directors?”

“Who knows?” Marinette says. She frowns and looks over her shoulder. “Where’s Adrien? He’s usually here way before now.”

“Someone’s a stalker!” Alya sings teasingly, linking arms with Marinette as they walk straight past Lila and her captive audience. On their way, she snags Nino’s arm and hauls him away from Lila.

“Who? Me? Stalker! No way! I’m just concerned! For a friend!” Marinette babbles through flaming cheeks. Can the ground just, like, swallow her right now?

“Dude!” Nino complains. “Lila was just about to tell me about the time she met –”

“Use your brain, you big lug,” Alya says, lacing their fingers together. “You really think one person knows every single director? Especially a diplomat’s kid?”

“If she was the daughter of an actress or director then sure.” Marinette gratefully seizes the change of subject with both hands. “And she also said she was Ladybug’s best friend, but she’s the new kid. Ladybug doesn’t go around being besties with everyone she saves, does she? Otherwise, she’d be besties with Alya or –” She shudders. “Chloé.”

“Aww.” Nino’s shoulders slump. “I thought I was finally gonna meet Spielberg…”

Something black flashes out of the corner of Marinette’s eye. When she whips her head around to get a better look, her eyes widen at the sight of a familiar dark superhero leaping across the rooftops away from the school. Why is Chat Noir out? Is there an akuma somewhere? What kind of akuma could be so insidious that no one else knows about it yet?

“I – uh – bathroom!” Marinette blurts out, yanking her arm away from Alya’s. “That hot chocolate I had for breakfast went right through me!” She bolts before Alya or Nino can call her out on her bullshit excuse and ducks into the first empty classroom she stumbles across.

“Akuma?” Tikki says as soon as she zooms out of Marinette’s purse.

“Why else would Chat Noir be out?” Marinette says. “I have to go and see what’s wrong. Tikki, spots on!”

As soon as she’s outside the school and out on the rooftops, she opens her yo-yo and calls Chat Noir. He picks up on the third ring, greeting her with his usual flirtatious grin.

“Well, milady, I wasn’t expecting someone so stunning to call an alley cat like me,” he says.

“You’re just lucky that I take pity on mangy alley cats,” Ladybug shoots back with an answering smile. “Is everything alright, kitty? Is there an akuma or something?”

“No, there’s no akuma. Actually…” Chat Noir’s grin vanishes. “There’s something important I have to show you. Like, my-kwami-freaked-out important. Can we meet on the school roof?”

“Lucky for you, I’m nearby.” Ladybug angles her yo-yo screen to show him the school behind her. “What exactly do you have to show me?”

“You’ll find out in a few minutes,” Chat Noir says. He pastes his flirty grin back on his face and blows her a kiss. “It’s a date, bugaboo!”

“That cat,” Ladybug sighs when he hangs up. Shaking her head, she jumps back to the school rooftop and sits down to wait for Chat Noir, crossing her legs neatly. Man, what she wouldn’t give to be able to install apps on her yo-yo for times like this. Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long before she spots him bounding towards her with something rectangular tucked under his arm.

“Please, please, no need to stand on occasion,” Chat Noir says when he lands on the rooftop and Ladybug jumps to her feet.

“Silly kitty,” Ladybug says. “What’s so important that your kwami freaked out?”

In response, Chat Noir holds out the rectangular thing he’d been carrying. It’s…a book. An extremely old-looking book, sure, but still a book. When she flips it open to a picture of a Chinese woman in ladybug-patterned clothing, however, she immediately understands just why Chat Noir’s kwami might have freaked out.

“Plagg said that it’s full of secrets about us,” Chat Noir says as an open-mouthed Ladybug thumbs through the pages of strange writing and animal-themed superheroes. Is that a dragon? “And he said there’s someone who needs to see it. I was on my way there when you called.”

“This is incredible!” Ladybug says in a hushed voice. She gasps when she turns the page and is greeted with a man dressed in purple, with a silvery mask covering his head. “Hawkmoth?”

“That’s what I said!” Chat Noir’s literally bouncing on the balls of his feet. “That’s why akumas are butterflies. Hawkmoth’s using the Butterfly Miraculous for evil!”

“I would’ve thought that was obvious, silly kitty.”

“But there’s more. Give me a second.” Chat Noir ducks behind one of the massive metal HVAC fans, so Ladybug dutifully turns her back to allow him to detransform. When he emerges as Chat Noir once more, he’s holding something small in his hands, resting on a little white tissue.

“A peacock brooch?” Ladybug frowns down at the little blue and green peacock tail. But then she gasps and flips through the book until she comes across a hero dressed in deep, vivid blue. “Is that a Miraculous?”

“A damaged one,” Chat Noir says. “Plagg sensed that there was something wrong with it. He told me not to touch it in case there was something wrong with the kwami too. But yeah! It was lost when the Butterfly one was as well!”

“Where on earth did you find this?” Ladybug closes the book and hands it back to Chat Noir. “Do you know what this means? If the Peacock was lost with the Butterfly –”

“– then whoever had it could be Hawkmoth?” Chat Noir grimaces. “Yeah. I know.”

“Who had these? Where did you get them?”

“Adrien Agreste.”

Adrien? Ladybug’s heart screeches to a halt in her chest. No! Adrien can’t be Hawkmoth! He’s such a sweet, amazing person – but he’s never around when akumas attack – but he can’t be –

“No way can Adrien be Hawkmoth!” she snaps. Chat Noir blinks at her.

“I didn’t think that,” he says in an odd voice. He grins. “But I’m sure he appreciates your defence, milady. No, Adrien went snooping in his father’s office and found these in a safe. He gave them to me when he looked through the book and realised what it was about.”

Phew. Thank god. Ladybug’s heart resumes its normal rhythm. “Does that mean that Adrien’s father could be Hawkmoth?” she says.

“That’s what I’m thinking. I don’t want it to be true, for his sake, but…” Chat Noir shrugs. “I’ve gotta get these to whoever Plagg was talking about before school starts. Care to join me for a morning stroll, milady?”

Ladybug smirks when Chat Noir bows and holds his hand out. She takes it, then twists his wrist gently when he tries to kiss the back of her hand.

“The only reason you’ll be taking the lead on this one is because your kwami told you where to go, kitty,” she teases, taking the Peacock Miraculous and tucking it into her yo-yo for safekeeping. “Otherwise, you’d be joining me.”

“I’d follow you anywhere, bugaboo,” Chat Noir sighs. Ladybug just smiles and flicks the side of his head.

“Focus, Chat. Where did Plagg say to go?”

With a destination now in mind, Ladybug bounds through Paris after Chat Noir, towards an arrondissement that looks to be full of small, old shops. When they land in front of a familiar building, Ladybug can't help but gasp at the words “Fu’s Massage Parlour” written in fading letters above the door.

“Milady?” Chat Noir says.

“I’ve been here before!” Ladybug says. “My kwami brought me here when – wait…no way…”

“Ladybug?” Chat Noir says. But Ladybug’s already pushing the door open, so he just shrugs and follows her. She’ll explain in due time. She always does. There’s another door inside, a little further down, and Ladybug knocks on that one and waits a moment before pushing it open.

“Hello, Ladybug and Chat Noir,” says an old man with a ring of grey hair and a grey moustache and goatee, along with a bright red Hawaiian shirt and brown pants, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor inside the room. Judging by the acupuncture poster above a large phonograph, along with the letters that are on the small tapestries on the wall and the elegant screen in the corner – which Chat Noir can just understand if he stops and focuses – this man is most likely Chinese. He’s familiar – so familiar – why can’t Chat Noir figure out where he’s seen this man before?

“You’re the healer that cured Tikki when she was sick!” Ladybug gasps. “Back when Rose was akumatised!”

“Wait, so that’s why you were late to the battle?” Chat Noir says. Ladybug nods.

“I’m guessing you’re not really a vet, then?” she says to the man.

“Wait.” Chat Noir grins at Ladybug teasingly. “You brought a tiny flying ladybug thing to someone she said could heal her and you didn’t stop and think –”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll throw you out that window,” Ladybug threatens, but the corner of her mouth twitches faintly. Chat Noir wisely shuts up and raises his hands in surrender.

“And your first day of school wasn’t a chance meeting either,” the old man says, watching their banter with an amused sparkle in his eyes. “For either of you.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir gasp at the same time.

“You’re the man I helped when you fell over!” Chat Noir exclaims.

“And the man I helped across the road!” Ladybug adds. “Those were tests?”

The man smiles and nods. “Ladybug, you’re always ready to help others, even if you are inconvenienced in return. And Chat Noir, you’re always willing to put others before yourself. Though I do wish I could have further tested you to be absolutely certain, I knew that day that you would make a fantastic team.”

“Okay, but who are you?” Ladybug says.

“What Ladybug said,” Chat Noir says. In response, the man stands up and leads the two of them over to the massive phonograph on a chest of drawers at the back of the room, where he opens the tiny plate engraved with Chinese letters by pressing the eyes of the two dragons on either side of it and then punching a code in with the buttons that are revealed. Before their eyes, the top of the phonograph rotates and springs open to reveal a large octagonal box made of dark wood, with scarlet patterns on the top exactly like the ones on the box that had come with Chat Noir’s ring.

“Master Fu is the last known member of the Order of the Guardians!” says a small green flying thing that’s darted out of the horn of the phonograph. Ladybug and Chat Noir instinctively jump back. “They’ve cared for the Miraculouses for millennia!”

It’s a turtle. A flying turtle. The small green thing is a turtle kwami! His yellow eyes are piercing, like they can see straight through the mask on Chat Noir’s face, not that Chat Noir would be surprised if this kwami knew their identities as Master Fu does.

“I’m Wayzz, Master Fu’s kwami,” the turtle kwami continues. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

“Uh…you too!” Ladybug says with a nervous little laugh. Purely by instinct, Chat Noir offers her his hand, but although she smiles and rolls her eyes and bats it away, she does step closer to him. Hey, he’ll call it a win either way.

“We Guardians are responsible for protecting and distributing the Miraculouses, for the good of all humanity,” Master Fu says, opening the box to reveal a rainbow ring of five slots from orange to purple around a yin and yang symbol. The orange slot contains a necklace with a fox tail, while the yellow slot holds a golden hair comb with a bee on it; every other slot is empty. “We are chosen in childhood and trained for many years especially for this mission. When we were much, much younger, we –” He sighs. “I made a mistake. The Guardians’ Temple was destroyed, all because of me! Two Miraculouses were lost that day: the Butterfly and the Peacock. Also gone forever was the ancient spellbook.”

“You mean this thing?” Chat Noir holds out the book under his arm, and Master Fu takes it and starts to page through it. “You can read it? All it’s got are a bunch of weird symbols and pictures of superheroes.”

“They’re not weird to a Guardian,” Master Fu says, closing the Miraculous Box and returning it to the phonograph. “Back in the day, I was never given the opportunity to even have a look at it. But I’ve been taught enough to be able to partially decipher the code. These pages are the only source of information about the Miraculouses in the world. Obviously, this book is invaluable.”

“Chat Noir also found this.” Ladybug retrieves the Peacock Miraculous from her yo-yo and holds it out. Master Fu’s touch is light, almost reverent, as he accepts the brooch and cradles it in its protective tissue bed.

“Plagg said it’s damaged, but I don’t know how,” Chat Noir says. “All he said was that I shouldn’t touch it in case the kwami was damaged as well.”

“Not much can damage a Miraculous. A rogue Cataclysm, perhaps,” Master Fu sighs, gently resting the brooch on the chest of drawers. “Not easily fixed, but certainly doable. I would need the help of Tikki to reverse the damage.”

Chat Noir swallows and rests his free hand over his active ring. Master Fu notices the gesture, of course.

“So long as you’re careful, there shouldn’t be a problem,” he says. “I’m confident that I chose well for the holders of the Ladybug and Black Cat.”

“Why us?” Ladybug says. “Why not a pair of adults? We’re just teenagers…”

“Which means that you aren’t as set in your ways as adults are,” Master Fu says. “I wanted a pair who were flexible and still learning about the world. A pair who still possessed the idealism needed to step up and become heroes. Adults are capable, yes, but many are cynical and focused on their own lives.” He sighs. “The trade-off, of course, is that Hawkmoth possesses greater raw power. We don’t know why, but adults aren’t held to the same limitations when wielding a Miraculous as a child or teenager. But with the bond that you two possess, I know you can defeat Hawkmoth.”

“Of course we can!” Chat Noir nudges Ladybug. “Bugaboo and I are just too ameowzing to let a grumpy old butterfly man beat us.”

“Chat!” Ladybug complains, though she does let a giggle slip. But Master Fu pops the atmosphere with his next words.

“I've always believed that whoever possessed this spellbook must also have the Peacock…and the Butterfly.”

“So, you were right.” Ladybug gives Chat Noir a sad little pout that makes his heart jitter in his chest, and what he wouldn’t do to wipe that look off her face so that she could smile forever. “Adrien’s dad could be Hawkmoth!”

“Adrien’s father?” Master Fu says.

“Adrien Agreste.” Chat Noir’s mouth curves in a bitter line. “He’s the one who gave me the spellbook and Peacock Miraculous. Said he found them in his father’s hidden safe.”

Master Fu gives him a piercing look that, just like Wayzz’s gaze, bypasses the mask entirely. “I see. We could very well be close to Hawkmoth’s identity…”

“We should investigate,” Ladybug says. “You know, to make sure we’re not accusing someone without proof. We wouldn’t want to put Adrien through that if it turns out his father’s innocent.”

She’s so considerate! So caring! Is it any wonder that Chat Noir loves her? “And of course, I’ll be right there with you, bugaboo,” he says, and she smiles at him in response with that breathtaking smile of hers.

“You must be very careful,” Master Fu warns. “Both of you. If you succeed, you may well find yourselves face to face with Hawkmoth.”

“We promise we’ll be super careful,” Ladybug says. She gasps and starts scrambling for the door. “Oh, no! I’m gonna be late to school! And I was early today!”

“Allow me to escort you back, milady,” Chat Noir says when she trips over and faceplants. With a groan, she accepts his helping hand up, and they say their goodbyes to Master Fu and Wayzz before heading back to school.

But when they get there, they discover that no one’s out looking for them after all. They may be late but since there’s a tall man with lilac skin in the courtyard, surrounded by screaming students, no one really seems to have a single thought to spare for two tardy students.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: hold me #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #plagg #alya cesaire #master fu #the collector #plagg actually recognises the book #anti-lila #ugh

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mercysong-tardis · 5 years ago

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Philindaisy AU plot ideas!

Here are some Philindaisy Alternate Universe plot ideas I’m giving up for adoption. If any of you want to write them, please just credit me for the idea. These are free to do with them as you wish. No strings attached. Here you go:

Zombie Apocalypse AU: Zombie Apocalypses are supposed to be something only in Hollywood, until Fitzsimmons’ lab is attacked and Hydra releases an Alien Virus collected from the Kree. People on base go insane, First muttering about their “calling” before going on a rampage for uninfected human flesh. Coulson and May are on a time crunch to help Fitzsimmons create a cure, while Daisy discovers that all inhumans are immune. Desperate to Get Daisy back safely, Coulson and May head out to bring her back, fighting through those who were former colleagues. When the virus takes hold of Phil, suddenly everything gets worse as Melinda has to wrangle him back to safety, along with an unconscious Daisy…

Pirate AU: While on a raid, Pirate Captain Melinda May stumbles across Tavern Cook Phil Coulson. She spares him, (mostly because he was shirtless and easy on the eyes), and forces him along to work in the galley of her ship. Very quickly, Melinda falls for him. They spar at one point, Phil proves himself with both sword and firearm, and Melinda raises his status in rank. Eventually, he saves her life and she makes him first mate, much to the horror and jealousy of former first mate Grant Ward. Melinda makes Grant Ward walk the plank eventually when he betrays her and tries to kill Melinda in her sleep. Luckily, Phil had been there, doing a fine job at keeping May far from sleep (wink, wink). Little does she know that he is soon picked up by a trading ship. While Melinda makes herself Pirate Queen of the High Seas, she becomes closer and closer to Phil Coulson. During a raid on a small port, Melinda pucks up a child, a seven-year-old orphan girl named Daisy, and brings her aboard with the excuse that she could wash dishes, when really Melinda begins training her in combat. Phil helps as well, and other crew members challenge Melinda, saying she is getting soft. Phil discourages the potential mutiny, and teaches Crew member!Lance Hunter, a thing or two about respecting the ladies. Eventually Grant Ward returns with a fleet of ships he has conquered, hellbent on getting his revenge and seizing Melinda’s hefty cargo of Pirate Treasure…

Medieval AU: New King Phillip of House Coulson is set to pick a bride. His mother, Queen dowager Julie, has set before him the best choices for alliances, the lovely Lady Audrey, and Duchess Rosalind. But one night at the ball, Phillip is enchanted with the quiet woman who dances with incredible grace and style. She’s exotic in beauty and Phil is smitten when, alone with her on a balcony, the woman stops an attempted assassination. Phillip had found his bride, Lady Melinda of house May. But his mother may not be so happy, insisting that Phil choose from her selection. When the wedding day comes, Phillip lies to Lady Audrey, and sets Melinda in a duplicate dress, her face covered by a thick veil. By the time their vows are said, and the veil removed, Julie has nothing to say except to welcome Melinda into the family with the most forced smile Phillip has ever seen. Phil finally gets to kiss his bride. It takes only several moons before Julie is told an Heir is on it’s way. A proud future grandmother, Queen Dowager Julie orders a magical reading of the unborn child. The magician has nothing to say, only leaves screaming like a madman. Afraid for what that means, Melinda is hidden from the public until the royal couple’s long awaited son -erm- daughter is born, a healthy baby girl whom they name Daisy. But soon it becomes apparent that the child is much more powerful then she seems, and Julie is blaming Melinda for bewitching the child....

Shapeshifter AU: Melinda May-Coulson never shape-shifts. It’s simply easier to hide her gift then to flaunt it and be despised. Most people can shift into a small animal. Dogs, cats, bears, owls, and snakes are common. Horses and Lions are considered lucky. Some are even more amazing, holding within themselves more mythical forms. Every now and then, Griffins and Pegasi are made celebrities. But Melinda? Melinda is the only dragon she has ever heard of. So she is ashamed, hides her form until it becomes unbearable and she shifts alone in her home, filling the entire living room with shining dark blue and glittering silver scales, always leaving behind a scent of burnt tea and Lavender when she stretches her tight coil. Phil is a more common form, simply a golden retriever that Melinda finds adorable. Sometimes he shifts to make her happy, running around her legs in circles, looking up at her with those big, round, soft blue eyes. He doesn’t ask for her to shift, has never seen her completely. He doesn’t judge her secrecy, understands it even, saying he knew someone who was a rat. (Melinda insists she is much more regal than a rat, of all things) Life goes on until Phil’s friend, Maria, gives them a call about a girl that desperately needs a home. So the Coulson’s take her in, a little girl right out of the Hunan province in China, a new American name, Daisy, foreign to her ears, speaking rapidly in broken Mandarin that only Melinda understands. One day, Daisy comes home early with Phil, and they walk outside into the backyard to find Melinda in her dragon form, and to Phil’s shock, Daisy screams with surprise and with a spark of light, becomes a dragon herself, finding her way to Melinda. Blue and silver scales shine with White and gold while a golden retriever yaps happily between them.

Hunger Games AU: Hunger Games Victor Melinda May is living her quiet life with her husband Phil Coulson and single daughter, Daisy, in the Victor’s Village of district seven. But as the year’s days come closer and closer to the reaping, Melinda suffers her annual PTSD from the horrors of her time in the arena, twelve years ago. Waking up in cold sweats or to the sound of her own scream is nothing new to Melinda, her dreams haunted with the faces of the other tributes she’d watched die. As her daughter nears fifteen, Melinda fears more and more until the inevitable happens; and Daisy is drawn as this year’s female tribute of District seven, alongside of Lincoln Campbell. Mournfully, Melinda is forced to accompany her own daughter on the train to The Capital, and give her five days of training and support before Daisy is thrust into the nightmare of the Hunger Games. Under strict orders from President Snow, Melinda has to force herself not to be biased while helping out both Daisy and Lincoln. While Phil watches at home, Melinda breaks while her daughter marches into a certain death sentence…

Star Wars AU: Phil is the perfect Jedi. Bound to the code, completing all his missions successfully and with ease. Melinda? Melinda is a more radical Jedi. She breaks the code left and right, follows the force instead of the rules. She is unable to stay in one place for long, always moving with her fifth year Palawan, Daisy Johnson. While on a mission, the two are paired up, living undercover as royals to another planet, Daisy poses as their princess daughter, meaning to try to swoon the prince, Robbie Reyes in order to get information while Jedi Masters May and Coulson search the palaces and crime families. But old fires are reignited, and Phil has to bury the feelings for Melinda while they advise Daisy to do the same, with the predicament at hand; Phil is hopelessly in love with Melinda, and Daisy might be in love with her perfect prince fit for a Jedi knight…

Matrix AU: Living on the Zephyr, proud sister ship to the Nebuchadnezzar, Captain Melinda May trains her new recruits, a handful of young adults fresh out of the Matrix. Her co-captain, Phil Coulson helps her as they navigate their confusing, underground world. But with a ship full of uncontrollable youngsters, the kids take it upon themselves to get the two captains together.

Demon AU: When Audrey is killed in a car accident, Phil, under the guilt that it was his fault, takes it upon himself to revive his girlfriend. One night alone at a bar, he finds what he’s looking for. A woman who shimmers with an unearthly aura of sinful villainy. So Phil makes a deal, and Audrey is brought back, but Phil must stay with his new mistress: a demon under the name Melinda, better known as the Cavalry. He becomes her sex toy, like a human pet she keeps. Phil soon discovers that the longer he stays with Melinda, the more hellish he becomes. Soon he has to make a choice; stay human, or accept his fate and find that there is more to Melinda then what meets his reddening eyes. By the time Phil is no longer visible to the human eye unless he wills it, Phil has said goodbye to Audrey, and returned to Melinda’s side, ready to watch her belly grow. Somehow, someway, what was left of his human flesh has sparked a life inside his mistress, and Melinda is unsure what this means. As Phil falls for Melinda, the weight of his deal with her lessens, and therefor he pledges himself to her, for the rest of eternity. When the child is born, Melinda misses her free days, and gives Phil their daughter, breaking off their deal. But Phil no longer wants Audrey. He wants to have Melinda back. So he sets off to reclaim her, all the while working through the surprises raising a half-demon child holds.

Writer/Editor AU: Phil is an esteemed author, having written the hits of the teen and young adult section. Melinda is an editor, desperate to get a job, and quick. She finds Phil in need of an Editor, and she snatches up the opportunity. As they spend more time together working though, Melinda starts to fall for him. Daisy is Melinda’s adopted daughter. After school, she has found herself taking the bus to Phil’s house instead of her own. Her Mom is acting weird, more cheerful than usual and always talking about how wonderful her client’s book is going to be. Daisy just wants her mom back to herself again, without distracting men taking up her time. But on the flip side, Phil Coulson is a bright man who respects her, and always gives full attention to a conversation (Something Daisy craves). He’s kind and generous, even helps out when May sues her neighbor, Grant Ward, for sexual harassment. Daisy can’t help but not like Phil. As Melinda edits Phil’s work, she finds herself more and more invested in him. Daisy is happier now, and Melinda has found someone she is truly comfortable talking to. When the book is finally finished, and Phil leaves for the press tour, Melinda misses him. Phil reveals that the main characters of his books are based off people he loves, and Melinda gets his memo immediately. There must be someone else. Phil returns to May excited from the public’s reaction to his book, but disappointed when Melinda no longer sticks around. Eventually he puts the pieces together, explaining that the heroine of his book is based off Melinda herself.

#fanfiction #fanfic #melinda may #Phil coulson #daisy johnson #Philindaisy #Agent May #Agent coulson #Quake #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#Philinda #Philinda fanfic #Philinda au #Philindaisy au #plot ideas #Prompts

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maverick-werewolf · 6 years ago

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Random Werewolf Fact #35 - The Beast of Gevaudan, and What Isn’t a Werewolf Legend

The Beast of Gevaudan is easily one of the most popular werewolf legends. Movies, TV shows, books - tons of things are based on it, and new ones pop up every few years.

But here’s the problem - it isn’t really a werewolf legend at all.

(MTV’s Teen Wolf series certainly had a take on the Beast of Gevaudan)

Before we dive into why it isn’t, let’s first look at what exactly the legend is. In brief, because going into too much detail would make this even longer than it already is, and that’d be totally unpalatable.

In 1764-1765 in France, a creature called the Wild Beast of Gevaudan “ravaged several districts,” hunted by a detachment of dragoons, with a bounty of a thousand crowns for its death. It was said to,

[H]ave devoured more than a hundred persons. Not merely solitary wayfarers were attacked by it, but even larger companies traveling in coaches and armed. (Summers 235)

A lot of what we have today about the Beast of Gevaudan comes from extrapolations of the legend, misinformation, and retroactive changes to it based on the modern miscategorization of it as a werewolf legend.

So why am I saying it isn’t a werewolf legend?

Firstly, the beast is only ever described as some kind of unknown creature.

Secondly, and very importantly, it never changes shape beyond speculation.

There were claims made, either then or recently, that the creature was a “warlock, who had shifted his shape” (Summers 236), and one account from a supposed eyewitness who heard it speaking.

There is no particular reason or purpose behind this creature being a wolf - because it was not a wolf. It simply has absolutely no hallmarks of a proper werewolf legend, beyond the fact that the beast is shown to be intelligent (”With mysterious skill the beast baffled and even spurned its pursuers” [Summers 235]).

The Beast of Gevaudan was physically described by various historical sources, and speculated to be any of the following things:

A “panther”

A “hyena”

“the offspring of a tiger and a lioness” (and we know those are possible!)

It was described as having “most formidable” teeth, which is wolflike. But it was also described as using its tail to fight. “With its immense tail it could deal swindging blows.” Along with being able to jump to tremendous heights and run with “supernatural speed,” it is described as stinking. “The stench of the brute was beyond description” (Summers 235). Yeah, wolves aren’t skunks, so I think we can write another point off toward “was it a wolf?”

There were other instances of people speculating it was a werewolf later in the legend’s history, so not actually at the time when these things were happening. An anonymous writer not even from the time period (great source, right? Very reliable) made some random claim off the top of his head that it must’ve been a werewolf because he once saw an engraving where it was eating a girl, and werewolves likey the girl flesh (this guy must’ve read a very limited range of werewolf legends, though).

But the thing ate everyone regardless of age, sex, or what-have-you, and we have multiple accounts of it eating all kinds of people, so that’s about as helpful or likely to hold up as a bucket with holes in it.

And then we can turn to the illustrations...

(18th-century engraving of the Beast of Gevaudan, now called Lycopardus Parthenophagus, or basically “panther-wolf”)

Oh yeah I see wolves and werewolves that look like that all the time!

Does that remotely resemble a wolf to you? (note: don’t ask that to people designing stylized wolf models for video games, especially WoW, or most people who design werewolves in Hollywood)

Look, I get it. The medievals were super terrible at artistically portraying basically anything. Pick up 90% of bestiaries and they’re full of laughs.

(Cutout from a bestiary entry on wolves. But at least these weird little cuties kind of resemble wolves, you know, in the smallest amount?)

Here’s another Beast of Gevaudan...

(So is she saving herself from getting her hair licked or from getting mauled? More at 11)

Arguably a little more wolfish by medieval standards? Still not doing it for me.

So what’s the problem here?

For a long time, scholars got triggerhappy categorizing things as werewolf legends, vampire legends, dragon legends, etc. - trying to find a way to fit everything into a certain category, because humans seem to have an irresistible need to categorize everything (just look at TV Tropes).

But not all of these categorizations are true. That, and they were trying to make these fields into a thing, trying to prove there was enough material for something like “werewolf studies” to exist, so they got pretty ridiculous about it.

Before someone jumps in with “but Mav, Jean Chastel killed it with a silver bullet!” I’m going to cut you off at the pass, because we have no actual reliable source stating that this is true.

And also other sources say one Monsieur Antoine killed the beast, not some guy named Jean Chastel, so we have conflicting sources about this legend absolutely everywhere.

About the “silver bullet” thing: Until I am given a small mountain (or honestly at least 2-3) of verifiable sources from the actual time period, I 100% stand by that this was retroactively inserted into the Beast of Gevaudan legend by someone who watched The Wolf Man movie, and then the completely fake “source” was made and thrown out there because some scholar wanted to be the first one to find it (i.e., make it up).

And even if it was true, you know what? That wouldn’t make it more of a werewolf legend. Because guess what? Werewolves in literally every other legend ever, everywhere on the face of planet earth, aren’t sensitive to silver like that.

So, no, that is not a property of folkloric werewolves and if true (which I still hold that it is not), does absolutely nothing to nudge the Beast of Gevaudan closer to the “werewolf legends” category.

Because the Beast of Gevaudan is not a werewolf legend. It meets not even a single requirement necessary to be called one. It’s a cool legend, sure, and people have a relatively easy (arguably; I’m not a huge fan of a lot of the media, but some of it is alright) time turning it into a werewolf story, but that doesn’t make the historical legend about a werewolf. Any werewolf media that uses it needs to be aware of that.

This applies to a lot of other “werewolf legends,” too, such as the trial of Peter Stubbe, for a whole lot of reasons. It’s simply a miscategorization. A mistake. And it is one that needs to stop being further solidified, despite being a pretty literal error, in the scholarly world.

Don’t get me wrong, though, the legend itself is pretty hardcore (and horrible, because those people did actually die, you know). It’s just not a werewolf legend.

Note: All quotes in this article are from The Werewolf by Montague Summers, cross-examined with various other sources. But any actual quotes are from that book.

(If you like my werewolf blog, be sure to check out my other stuff!

Patreon --- YouTube --- Wulfgard --- Werewolf Fact Masterlist --- Twitter)

#werewolves #werewolf #werewolf wednesday #werewolfwednesday #random werewolf fact #folklore #lycanthrope #lycanthropy #wolfman #wolfmen #beast of gevaudan #the beast of gevaudan

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daughter-of-the-prophet · 5 years ago

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Aveline Vallen (TV Tropes)

Action Girl: Hell yes!

Amazonian Beauty: So far, she's the most muscular woman in the Dragon Age franchise (or any other BioWare franchise) to date, but that's not to say she doesn't have a feminine figure. It's really only seen in the prologue, however.

Babies Ever After: Hints that she regrets never having children with Wesley. After she marries Donnic, separate conversations with Isabela and Fenris reveal that they are considering starting a family in the near future.

Aveline and Donnic eventually have a daughter whom they named after Areida Hawke, Aveline's dear friend who brought her and Donnic.

Badass Normal: Deserves special mention; see Establishing Character Moment below.

Battle Couple: With Wesley and later, Donnic. She definitely prefers someone with whom she can be Back-to-Back Badasses.

Beauty, Brains and Brawn: In a trio with Areida and Bethany, Aveline is the Brawn. She's tall and muscular, skilled with sword and shield, and works as a city guard. The others sometimes make jokes about her being able to lift a cow.

Berserk Button: As mentioned below, do NOT question her loyalty or accuse her of coddling her guards.

Big Good: To Kirkwall in Inquisition, after Areida is forced to leave town. Varric notes that "Kirkwall would probably fall into the sea if she ever quit her job."

Big Sister Mentor: Has some shades of this for Areida and Bethany especially. Some cut-dialogues refer to her cornering most of the party and getting them to practice swordsmanship with her (including the mages) and criticizing their techniques.

Breast Plate: Initially played straight during the prologue sequence, in which she sports form-fitting leather armor. Averted for the rest of the story - the metal plate the guards wear is the same general shape for both men and women, giving Aveline no more chances to show off her assets.

Cannot Spit It Out: Towards Donnic. She tries courting him in more subtle ways, but her methods seem to make sense only to her. One of Aveline's ways of trying to court Donnic causes him to mistakenly conclude that Areida is the one awkwardly hitting on him.

Insane Troll Logic: Eventually, Aveline's efforts to woo Donnic get so bad that even when she does explain the reasoning behind her actions, Areida can't argue directly with them because they make no sense.

The Captain: Served as an officer in the Fereldan Army at Ostagar, and later becomes Captain of the Kirkwall City Guard.

The Champion: To the Hawke family during their first year in Kirkwall. She claims it's just to keep Areida out of trouble.

City Guards: Joins the Kirkwall guard after fleeing Ferelden and is promoted to Captain of the Guard after a mission where she investigates her superior's corruption.

Clear My Name: In Act 3, Cullen alerts Areida that Aveline is accused of coddling her men, and urges her to speak with Aveline and clear up the issue. Aveline takes the accusation extremely personally and goes on a bit of a rampage to settle the matter. See Cowboy Cop, below.

Comically Serious: Especially when paired with Varric and Isabela.

Cowboy Cop: Even as Da Chief, she has no problem telling authority where to shove it and will bend the rules for the sake of her friends.

However, do not ever question whether she is going soft on the men under her command and coddling certain individuals (Donnic). When the Templars force Areida to investigate her on this in Act 3, they set out to prove that Donnic is doing the same routes as the other men, if not more dangerous, and most of her men are fighting for their lives twice a week to keep Kirkwall safe.

Da Chief: Eventually reaches this position on the Guard.

Defector from Decadence: Aveline's mysterious father. "Orlais has a game. He wouldn't play it. I never cared to ask further."

Depending on the Artist: Her official art is... considerably more mannish when compared to her in-story model.

Did We Just Have Tea with Cthulhu?: During the Prologue and on Sundermount in Act 1, Aveline appears to be the only person in the group who actually recognises that talking to the Witch of the Wilds is not something any sane person would want to do.

Drill Sergeant Nasty: Borderline; she trains with each guard individually and makes certain that they know what they are doing. They certainly think that it's Training from Hell. She bonds with each of the guards as well, which takes the edge off of it.

She also asks Areida to allow her to have her dog, Maximus, help her train, to see if her people can handle a "good old-fashioned Mabari charge." Brings about a Pet the Dog moment (almost literally) later, as she rewards Maximus with some contraband mutton that was seized

Establishing Character Moment: One of the first things she does is tackle a darkspawn that severely wounded Wesley and punch it into submission before lever-cutting its head off with its own sword. She proceeds to fight the rest of the horde with the intention of saving her husband or dying with him.

Expose the Villain, Get His Job: Her personal quest in Act 1.

Failure Knight: Her sometimes obsessive need to protect everyone seems to be the reason she latches onto looking after the Hawke family. It is implied to have largely stemmed from her guilt at being unable to save Wesley.

Fantastic Racism: A much more subtle and realistic (and likely unintentional) example than most, but she doesn't see any issue with elves being segregated into impoverished ghettos, nor elves being forced to sleep in stables and out-buildings (just like farm animals) in towns too small to fit an alienage, and seems mildly surprised when Merrill (an elven companion) gets upset to hear it.

She also takes her time looking to the "rumors" of one of her guards raping an elven woman, but immediately cracks down on the brothers of the alleged rape victim (also the ones who accused him) when they got tired of waiting for her to do anything about it and killed him.

Femininity Failure: She gets teased about being "mannish" by hard-drinking, hard-fucking, foul-mouthed Isabela. That's how badly she fails at femininity. That said, it doesn't usually bother or cause any trouble for her, but it does prompt her personal quest in the second act where she needs help getting the guy she's interested in to even realise that she's a woman.

Fire-Forged Friends: At the start of the story, she bonds with the Hawke family when they fight their way out of Lothering together.

Good People Have Good Sex: After Aveline marries Donnic, Isabela offers some tips on how they can spice up their sex life. Aveline lets her know Donnic needs no help in that department.

Hair-Trigger Temper: At least where card games are concerned, according to Fenris and Donnic.

Happily Married: With Wesley before the beginning of the story. Later with Donnic.

Heterosexual Life-Partners: With Areida.

Hollywood Atheist: Averted; Aveline has no issue with the Chantry or those who believe in the Maker (she even married a Templar), but she doesn't seem to believe herself. She says that she thinks the Chant is lovely, but perhaps that is all it needs to be.

Honorary Aunt: Like Isabela, Aveline becomes an Aunt like figure towards Anders and Areida's children. They call her "Aunt Aveline".

Hypocrite: The reason she gives for pursuing the elven vigilantes is "they took the law into their own hands," yet she tolerates Areida taking the law into her own hands every day, and potentially does it herself when she joins Areida on missions.

I Let Gwen Stacy Die: Wesley's death remains a sore spot for her for a good half of the story, partially because she feels she should have been able to prevent it. Her fear of losing anything else drives many of her actions throughout the story.

Idiot Ball: Played for Laughs. She's a bright, talented, and quick-thinking guardswoman... but her intelligence plummets when it comes to dealing with Donnic. Case in point? While trying to be romantic with him, she turns it into a conversation about the sharpness of swords.

Played for Drama when she refuses to look into the cases of kidnapped Hightown women, which contributes to Leandra being kidnapping and murdered by the same serial killer, something she denies any responsibility for afterward.

Jerk with a Heart of Gold: As strict as she can be and as cold as she can be to the other companions, she's fiercely loyal to those she cares about and always attempts to do what she considers to be right.

Lantern Jaw of Justice: Rare female example.

Married to the Job: Apparently the reason she's having such difficulty with romancing Donnic. Even though she was once married, she's thrown herself into her work so much, she's forgotten how not to be a guard for a while.

Matchmaker Quest: Her personal quest in Act 2 involves her attempting to court Guardsman Donnic. They eventually get married.

A Mother To Her Men: Particularly seen in Act 3. The men and women of the city guard revere her, to the point that they unanimously refuse to join ex-Captain Jeven in his smear campaign to have her removed. Donnic says that there's not a single member of the guard who would hesitate to follow her across the Void itself if she asked.

My Beloved Smother: She's not their mother but she definitely acts this way towards the others during party banters, especially Areida and Bethany.

Foreshadowed slightly in Act 1 party banter with Bethany, who asks her why she and Wesley never had children; Aveline explains that their respective careers forced them to put the prospect on hold. When Bethany asks if she regrets it now that Wesley is gone, Aveline replies, not unkindly, that the question is too personal. It's possible that she sees her companions as surrogates for the children she never had. She does however, have a daughter with Donnic.

Named After Somebody Famous: An In-Universe example; Aveline was the name of the first female Chevalier.

She actually doesn't seem fond of the symbolism, (though it fits her perfectly), calling the name "a wish [her] father made," and expressing relief that Fenris doesn't know the story of Ser Aveline. By the end of the story, though, she seems much more sure of herself and has come to terms with it.

Never My Fault: When it comes to being a City Guard, Aveline is always convinced she's right.

She straight-up denies any responsibility for Leandra being kidnapped and murdered, even after Areida asked her to look into the disappearances of Hightown women, which Avline had refused to do despite it being her job as Captain of the City Guard.

No Guy Wants an Amazon: Ser Wesley and Guardsman Donnic are the exceptions that prove the rule; almost everyone else finds her intimidating and off-putting, as other party members point out. According to Isabela, she's a "woman-shaped battering ram."

Non-Answer: When Aveline and Areida go to confront the Arishok, the elven converts claim that one of her guards raped their sister and they tried to report him many times, but got turned away each time. When Areida asks Aveline if this is true, she responds, "There are rumors. I'll look into them."

No Social Skills: Most noticeable during her bizarre efforts to romance Guardsman Donnic.

Not So Above It All: In Act 3, she has evolved an Odd Friendship with Isabela. Any time Aveline deadpan snarks at her, Isabela warmly says, "That's my girl!" At one point, Aveline has apparently invited Isabela to a family dinner, but she didn't show up because she didn't think she'd fit in; Aveline disagrees.

Isabela: "How's marriage been treating you, big girl?"

Aveline: "It's been good. No, great. I'd forgotten what it was like to..."

Isabela: "Be flipped ass over tits and hammered like a bent nail?"

Aveline: "To. Be. Loved."

Isabela: "Oh. Right, of course."

Aveline: (coyly) "Not that I'm complaining about the other thing."

Odd Friendship: With Fenris and Isabela.

The Only One Allowed to Defeat You: Aveline invokes this when Arishok says he must take Isabela back along with the book she stole: "Oh, no. If anyone's going to kick her ass, it's me."

Reasonable Authority Figure: As Captain of the Guard. Under her command, the guard is the most efficient and respected it's been in generations, though once Meredith takes over, some of the Templars seem to be making it a point to limit her influence and try to oust her from her position.

Despite her late husband having been a Templar, she refuses to turn Bethany in to the Templars, since she at least tries to do good. She also makes no efforts to turn in Merrill or Anders, and does her best to keep the patrolling guards from taking notice of Fenris squatting in the Hightown mansion.

Replacement Goldfish: Though never outright stated, Aveline maintains her strong bond with Areida likely because she's the closest thing Aveline has to family. Bethany will even question why Aveline continues to follow Areida, and Aveline skirts the answer.

Secular Hero: Aveline is the closest to agnosticism on team Hawke. She married a Templar and sometimes refers to the Maker, but doesn't generally worry about religion and is skeptical of the Chantry's stance that "the less [he] does, the more he's proven".

Aveline: "Wesley's at the Maker's side, or he's not."

Significant Green-Eyed Redhead: The first companion Areida meets, as well as one of the most important ones after becoming captain of the guard.

Slut-Shaming: Does this to Isabela on an extremely regular basis. Isabela takes it in stride.

Skewed Priorities: When a group of elven brothers formally reported that one of her guards raped their sister, she dismisses it as "rumors" that she'll look into eventually. When those same elven brothers killed the guard they reported, Aveline dropped what she was doing to arrest them first thing.

When tentions between the Qunari and Kirkwall are reaching their breaking point, Aveline decides to antagonize the Arishok even further by demanding he hand over the elven converts whose sister she put off seeking justice for, becoming the last straw that breaks his patience and plunging the city into open warfare.

Socially Awkward Hero:

"Yes, and it's a real nice night for an evening."

One of her gifts to Donnic is a copper engraving of marigolds. Odd enough to get a man (and specifically a watchman, who'd you think would be a practical type) a picture of flowers, but in traditional floriography, marigolds represent grief and cruelty. Whoops. Her reasoning behind the gift borders on Insane Troll Logic: "Metal is strong, flowers are soft, copper ages well. I thought it was clear."

Stone Wall: Her specialization focuses on defense and protecting party members. Thanks to her Indomitable ability, she's the only party member with a built-in immunity to the final boss's "stun you all so I can monologue" move. Should she be knocked out, the others' reactions are equal parts concern and astonishment that it actually happened.

Varric: "Sweet mother of green cheeses, how'd they take that woman down?!"

Merrill: "By the Creators, Aveline has fallen!"

Fenris: "Aveline has fallen?"

Straight Man and Wise Guy: The Straight Man to Varric and Isabela's Wise Guy.

Take Up My Sword: Upon first encounter, she wields a two-handed greatsword. After Wesley loses the use of his sword arm, and later dies, she takes up a Sword & Shield style like him. Her starting shield in Act 1 is Wesley's.

Taking Up the Mantle: By the time of Inquisition, Aveline is still leading the guard, and Bran's letter all but calls her Areida's successor as Kirkwall's protector.

Team Dad: Gender-flipped, alongside Varric's Team Mom. Most of her conversations with the party involve her providing some form of advice or critiquing their lifestyle choices. It's also said that she has people spying on most of the others and bends the rules a bit if necessary in hopes of keeping them out of trouble.

She's particularly protective of Areida, and the only person besides Anders who really takes time to console a devastated Areida after her mother's murder. Notably, she's the only companion to whom Areida seems to feel comfortable admitting that "My heart's broken" about the whole thing - even Varric, who is Areida's best friend, doesn't have this conversation.

Made especially clear by a line she says when she drinks a health potion:

Aveline: “I hope no one else needs this!”

To Be Lawful or Good: Establishes herself as being on the "Good" side of things at all times early in Act 1, despite having only just taken the job. She remains lawful only so long as it is useful in her quest to do good. When the two conflict, there is never a moment's hesitation in her mind.

Tragic Keepsake: Wesley's shield. She later clarifies it's less about Wesley and more just holding onto the last pieces of her old life.

Tsundere: A Type A, especially towards Isabela. Wesley and Donnic both seem to be the only people who constantly get her softer side.

Vitriolic Best Buds: With Isabela towards the end of the story. She eventually starts barking "Shut up, whore" with an obvious twinge of affection.

Widow Woman: Ser Wesley, her Templar husband, dies shortly after meeting the Hawke family due to darkspawn taint. Aveline Mercy Kill him. She eventually remarries, though.

Workaholic: The Codex notes that her life revolves around guarding others; when she's not on-duty as a city guard, she's guarding Areida and her friends. After her personal quests are completed, she starts to relax a little bit. Discussed by Varric in some dialogue in Act 1, when he asks what she does.

Aveline: "You know I'm a guard, why are you asking?"

Varric: "I mean in your off-duty hours? For fun? You've heard of it, I hope?"

Aveline: "These are my off-duty hours."

Varric: "And the trend of you scaring the piss out of me continues..."

You Can't Go Home Again: Discussed. "That's supposed to be about maturity. It's not the same if you don't have the option."

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #aveline vallen #TV Tropes

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shirokaneki · 6 years ago

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364 Days of Winter (Hatori x Shigure Comission)

I am currently doing writing comissions at £10 for 1k, £20 for 2k, £60 for 8k. Yes, I will do NSFW, come message me for details and examples of that and I’ll discuss pricing. I will also write about your OC’s, main fandoms i can do are fruits basket, tokyo ghoul, fate series, evangelion, madoka, pokemon, but whatever it is come discusss with me. Reblogs appreciated!

A figure stood alone in a world devoid of colour, consumed both inside and out by an empty void of white.

Wind howled like a lone wolf. Ice belted from a blank sky, punching holes into his chest like showers of bullets.

This wretched snowstorm had lasted for days. And there was no spring in sight. Nor even any water after the ice. The state of his feelings were unchanging; stuck away in limbo, smothered – as they had been for years. His love was unrequited, and gradually the feeling gnawed away at him, just like the world gradually drowning in a frenzy of ice.

Even lighting a single flame was a struggle. Cigarette in mouth, lighter in hand, he made a futile attempt at kindling something warm. A wisp of heat ignited the bluish night, however, the ruthless wind brutally blew it away, cold assaulting his shivering body like the sunken fangs of a wild beast. The flame was blown away by the hollow gust of wind.

It felt as though he could summon no emotion within him without wretched ice demolishing him somehow.

He’d never needed a cigarette so much in his life. On this particular New Year’s Eve it looked like they might get snowed in overnight – his worst nightmare, really. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t turn up, say the snow was so bothersome and stay at home. Yet, part of him was almost excited that he would. It was such a stupid, childish feeling that he loathed. It seemed so futile, all of it – his unrequited love, his need for a cigarette, yet, he had no choice but to continue attempting trying to spark a flame– such a cold existence needed to smoke. He needed the warmth to suck the life out of to keep his heart from completely freezing over.

His love for Shigure was like his addition to cigarettes: a cancerous, one way burn that was killing him slowly. Yet, he needed it to survive. Hope that he’d somehow get his fix kept him battling the storm. Snow swirled and blasted, wind wailing as it reared for another assault on him. It hit him like the voracity of a quickly broken heart, painting the world in a growing limbo of nothingness, just like the ice gradually freezing his heart.

His heart seemed to be freezing over at such a rate that he depended on the cancer-sticks like an injection of heat into the insides. It was an effort, for sure, but somehow he managed to light a tiny flame. Literally as well as figuratively; using his burning hands as a shield, and turning his back on the snowstorm, a meagre flame flickered weakly inside his hands, spreading a weak, yet pleasant heat like the withering hope inside him that anything good could ever come of this emotion. Even if by some slim chance it worked out – which it wouldn’t – Akito would be furious. These daydreams were purely that, – just fantasy.

Everyone knew how it had went when he’d incurred Akito’s wrath before.

His body shuddered at the thought. Cigarettes seemed to be the only thought keeping him going through the night. If any of the zodiac couldn’t make it to the banquet, Akito would be furious. Thinking about it, he drew on the cigarette like his life depended on it. As he blew out the smoke it weaved and spiraled into a shape somewhat similar to a dragon before withering away to the clutches of ice.

What a fun night it’s going to be, he thought bitterly.

“Haa-san!” came a faraway voice, filled with such vigour and perk that his heart soared before plummeting back down with his usual pessimistic dread.

“Shi… shigure?” Hatori replied abruptly, realising he’d shown way too much emotion in that instant. He really hadn’t expected him to be here, especially running towards him at full blast over ice. He didn’t like people seeing his emotions – especially when they were filled with a gross, girlish crush unbefitting a grown man, so he cleared his throat, replying in a lower, deadpan voice. He let his sleek black hair fall across his expression so it was hidden once more. “Good to see you. I didn’t think you’d be making it tonight.”

Shigure stood before him and beamed. “Looks like there is going to be quite a few of our zodiac missing tonight. Many are snowed in. It’s going to be an interesting night, so I made sure to bring lots of alcohol!”

“Shigure,” Hatori muttered slowly. The wind made his hair wisp, revealing that scarred eye which he quickly hid with a down-turned head. ”You live out with the Sohma land, the farthest away of us all, yet you’re the one still here. You did something, didn’t you?” His hand clenched as a fist by his side. “Did something happen between you and Akito?”

“Oh, Hatori.” Shigure stepped into the shelter of the Japanese style roof, shadow passing over his features. Hatori just knew there was malicious intent from a certain darkness in his gaze, but what he could not tell. “You know I’ll do anything to break the curse and draw distance between the zodiac and their God.” He smirked.” I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Hatori felt like one of the only people who knew of Shigure’s true nature. It was selfish. He’d use anyone to get what he wanted. Yet, somehow, he still loved him despite this, and for that, he had no reason why. It was hard for him to make new relationships, so perhaps instead the heart was clinging to the nostalgia of an old one, remembering all the joyous moments him, Ayame and Shigure shared. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, he supposed, even if there was no fathomable reason why.

“Oh, Haa-san, by the way,” Shigure retaliated in a sing song voice. A complete flip in two sides of the same coin – as was usual for Shigure. “Your partner for the traditional dance this year has dropped out. I figured you wouldn’t want to do it yourself, so I’m offering myself up instead. Since we haven’t rehearsed anything traditional together, I figured we should do some sort of easy ballroom dance you see in hollywood movies instead. Look!” He rummaged the bag in his hand and unfurled a long, pink ballroom dress. “I even had this dress made especially for you!”

Hatori walked away and slammed the door in his face. There was a click of a key being locked.

“It was a joke, a joke Haa-san, this is one of Ayame’s dresses!” Shigure whined, pounding on the door, “please don’t leave me out here to freeze!”

***

Eventually, someone took pity on Shigure and let him in. But it was just as cold on the inside as it was out. The atmosphere hung over them with a heavy sense of dread. There was a banquet: bright, colourful and overfilled with food. Yet there was hardly anyone to eat it. There was just Hatori, Shigure and a falsely bright Ayame trying to lighten the mood.

Akito could hardly be considered to be considered a presence. They just sat in the corner, silent, crossed armed, hair fallen over their face, poisoning radiating from them that tainted the air. Shigure was cheerful – too cheerful; this definitly had something to do with him.

They began drinking hard. That much was needed.

Something battered at the house. A gust of wind howled ominously loud like an impending storm, and everything went black.

All the light was gone once again.

“Looks like the power has gone out. Do we have any candles?” Ayame said lightly, attempting to brighten the mood, but there was a definite sense of unease in his voice.

Akito didn’t answer. They remained silent, brewing like the storm outside.

“We have them. I’ll get them from the kitchen,” Shigure replied.

They sat in both silence and darkness, awkwardly waiting for Shigure to return.

Fwoosh.

Upon his return, there was light again. Shigure lit candles in the room one by one. Sparking light was beyond an easy task for him – much unlike how it was with Hatori outside.

“Hatori.” Akito’s voice was like a light airy breeze, soft, yet hollow sounding, despite the clear malice bitten back within. Hellish flames danced on their skin. They had been plotting, scheming something to cause a scene, and it looked like now it was finally time. “Do your traditional dance.”

Hatori hung his head. “However, my partner…”

“Partner?” Akito looked head on at them for the first time that night, those empty gray eyes bulging with malice. “Don’t make me laugh, Hatori. You will dance the dance alone – like you always are. It should be natrual for you, right?”

Akito’s words were like an icicle straight through his chest. Not that there was any trace of it on his face; his expression was still, stoic, not even a flinch of surprise as his heart was pierced. As an older man, he thought it was place never to cry, never to show anything beyond the professional business man charade he put on.

He didn’t blame Ayame and Shigure not for standing up for him. Even after all these years, living their lives as best friends there was an unspoken rule – never must the zodiac challenge the word of their God.

However…

“Come now,” said Shigure in a low voice. “It would be far too embarrassing for Haa-san.”

Hatori looked up quickly, the candlelight casting a warm sparkle in those cold, grey eyes. Promptly he looked away, hiding an eye behind his hair. The atmosphere suddenly became volcanic; Akito’s teeth snarled with an oncoming eruption of rage. Their eyes bulged with the wrath of a vengeful God but Hatori stood up quickly, sedating the oncoming eruption that had been building all night. A fearful shudder passed though him – he knew of God’s wrath all too well.

“I will do the dance,” he said in a quiet voice.

Akito bit their lip. The rigid, dangerous stance of their body loosened somewhat. They smirked.

If I have to be the crux to prevent my friends from being hurt, so be it, Hatori thought to himself.

He made his way to stand in front of everyone with awkward, ungainly steps – unbefitting of a man with such a cool, powerful aura. He retreated into himself, fingers curling to fists, lip being bitten. Normally, the traditional new year’s clothes were a bright, extravagant affair, exploding with colour and detail. However, Hatori’s were a plain black, long and sweeping the floor, – as per Akito’s request. They were long, dark, and devoid of colour – just like the hollow emptiness of his heart.

He kept his gaze firmly on the floor, hair streaming over his face. Akito laughed.

But something happened as he looked up. He caught Shigure’s eyes, looking striking with the hot light dancing within them. His hand rested on his palm with a small smile of encouragement on his face, unbearably handsome looking and, well…

The flickering flames casting Hatori’s body with incandescent hues of oranges melted the crutches of ice gripping his heart. It was such a minor thing to speak like that to Akito, but it was something he wasn’t sure any other of the zodiac could do. Maybe not even he, for he still lived in fear after that day he was blinded by Akito. That was day the world had lost its colour, and ice began to solidify his heart.

But at that precise moment, he felt a great amount of love for Shigure. The feeling melted the ice within him, igniting his bloodstream with the warm, static tingles of butterflies. His frozen heart was temporarily thawed, and it blossomed like the first flourishes of cherry blossoms from Winter into Spring.

Perhaps this was the alcohol taking, but he decided to call upon it. To channel those smothered, pent up feelings through the medium of dance. It was his only hope of relief. The only way he could express his love in a way that didn’t leave a path of destruction – never could it be voiced aloud.

He tore his eyes away from Shigure, closing them, and started out small. His knees bent, body hunched up and curled with his arms clutching at his shoulders as if fighting away the cold. He thought about Kana. How the incident had snatched the ability to freely love without the vices of fear and left him cold. Then, he thought of Shigure. The thought brought such an expression of pain on his face. Never would his feelings be returned, but, as the candles painted an aura of warmth over his usually pale skin, steadily, he began to grow. Love ignited him. It gave him the warmth he needed to keep going and let him feel things again, no matter how painful they were.

The love was agony. As was told by the slow, tepid movements he made. This wasn’t anything remotely close to what he’d rehearsed but that dance couldn’t be done alone anyway. Akito wanted to humiliate him. And so he would humiliate himself, expressing that gross, disgusting love that made him feel as though he’d implode if he locked it away any further.

Steadily, he began to grow from his hunched position. Slowly. Cautiously. Quivering in a way that he could not tell was cold or fear. But he thought of that heat on his skin, the newly grown flame warming his insides, and drew upon it like a phoenix rising from the ashes of an old love into the blaze of a new one. Brow furrowed in pain, steadily, his limbs began to unfurl like fiery wings in the candlelight. His body grew in a slow, steady manner, like the trees that signalled spring, and his fingers unfurled gracefully like flourishing cherry blossoms. He opened his eyes. Amour painted them, their usual colour warmed by the feeling of love, and, helplessly, he found himself gazing at Shigure. Shigure’s eyes were wide, bedazzled looking, lips parted in awe. Quickly Hatori looked away, turning his back on him.

He panted and retreated back into himself. His heart rioted in panic. Had Shigure sensed something? Could he tell he loved him just from that single look? No. There was no way. He beat himself up internal for succumbing to such a vile feeling; gentlemen didn’t go around expressing love in girlish dance.

Still. All eyes were upon him. He could feel their burn – even Akito was suspiciously silent. He had to continue. He had to humiliate himself further, otherwise there would be hell to pay from their God.

Slowly he turned his head. The long black fringe of his hair obscured his face. It flashed like a halo as he turned to face his audience face on – it had to be a quick movement, otherwise he may have never been able to face them again. He couldn’t look Shigure in the eye. So instead, he reached to the candle sitting on the shelf behind him above his head. The light, the warmth he craved, was out of reach. As he stood, sucking all the light into him with the vanta black of his robe, only a faint outline of gold glowing behind him, his arm slowly outreached. It shook ever so slightly at the thought of what would happen if he ever caught the light. But he’d never know. Streams of gold slipped through the cracks of his fingers.

“That’s enough, Haa-san,” said a voice in a low, gentle lilt.

Hatori flinched, fear of what Akito might do overriding the blossoms of static coursing from his fingers, but he couldn’t pull away.

The light may have escaped his grasp. However, much to his shock – and horror – the real thing was in his fingers. Shigure’s fingers had closed over his own, sending waves of heat and static blossoming over his fingers.

“You needn’t dance alone.”

Such dread caused him to plummet back to the real world that he almost wretched as Akito stood to their feet.

#hatori sohma #fruits basket #shigure sohma #hatori x shigure #ayame sohma #writing comissions #apologeis if read more isn't working so ill tag #long post #i did add one but idk if you can see it

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daddyblondlegs · 10 years ago

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This is in Fuzhou (the capital city of the province I living in) in an area a bit outside the city center. I had stumbled across some old houses here last time I was here and decided to make another trip. The story behind this mess isn’t all so clear for me either. I’d been to this place before. The first time I went, little shanties had been partially demolished and returning a few weeks later found there was very little was left.

A man stood outside of his doorway taking in the scene with his dog barking and snarling at me uninterrupted as I passed. He was looking out at the new scene of rubble and bulldozed tracks, and his house hadn’t been torn down. I went and talked to him and in seeing my interest invited me inside. He told me the government wants to sell off this land to rich investors, who will, in turn, build high-rises. We seemed to be like minded in that an apartment complex was not as good as the two-hundred year old wooden house he was living in.

It had a shadowy dimness to it, and a well sat in the small boxed-in courtyard. I met his daughter and grandchild awkwardly smiling and nodding at them peeking out behind a sliding door. The man said his great-grandfather had built this place and lived here during the reign of the Jiaqing Emperor (1796-1820). His grandfather was one of three sons who inherited the compound, and as time went on, the property was partitioned off. This is only what I think the man was saying. My Chinese isn’t good enough to sit and absorb this information effortlessly; I had to ask him to dumb it down several times and make guesswork out it. The house was not in the best of shape, but most things of that age are like this and are at some point restored. The man seemed to believe his house will be torn down soon and that he will need to move to a different place. However, I had heard that a red circle indicates the things to be protected. There is an old foreign district further down that is being restored all of which have these very same red circles. Nonetheless, the man seemed sure and had already sawed of a wooden dragon head from up near the roof for safe keeping. You could see he was really proud it from his voice. I never went back. The house may still be there.

Fuzhou, at one time, was internationally significant as an important connection point for China and the West. Reminding the world of what China looked like more than a century ago, a few houses, some built by westerners, still remain standing though not gracefully. The buildings have not been maintained well and are mostly occupied by the impoverished who care little for the building’s future.

One of the more remarkable buildings in this area is a two-story villa built by foreigners many years ago, although I’m not exactly sure when or from where. My guess is Spain or Portugal simply because of the style and they had a contact with this area long before the rest of the West did. When I came to the house, a middle-aged man in a security guard uniform sat on the porch watching a Beijing opera on his portable television. It seemed odd. There was no reason for him to be wearing the uniform here, there was nothing to guard.

I dared to ask him to go inside, but he replied that there was nothing interesting in there. Seeing as this wasn’t an authoritative “no”, I persisted in asking questions until he point to the door behind him and motioning for me to go inside. I stepped into a dark and muted foyer with closed doors on both sides and a curving staircase in front. The stillness there was not in a Hollywood kind of way where one simply has to wipe away a gossamer of dust and cobwebs to revive the sleeping beauty hidden beneath. The life of the place had truly been leeched out of it. I imagine the house originally only had one or two stately families living in it, wealthy enough to afford a wraparound porch and fireplaces in each bedroom. Today, the spacious two-story mansion seems to be able to have 6, 7, maybe even 8 or 9 families.

It’s not clear who all lives here now because the place was almost entirely empty, and the only signs of life were behind a couple of modern doors. Most of the doors in the house were locked but it seemed any and every room this house once had were converted into little apartments. I went upstairs to an open door. The space, it seemed, had never recently supported domestic living. It was scattered with mounds of vintage refuse of rusting cans, papers, and dark brown bottles. The hardwood floors have been painted over and gouged beyond repair and the fireplaces throughout the house have all been filled in. The once grandiose rooms had been the victim of slapdash walls of plywood and unpainted drywall decreasing the size down to something more familiar to contemporary standards. The wraparound porch had been filled in to add additional space, and it doesn’t require an architect to realize that the wooden structure protruding from the second floor not only breaks the neat symmetry but is alotogther a clear safety hazard. The tumorous, brown bulge perched up on stiletto beams is cringing to look at for a number of reasons. It all seems like an incredible waste, but this was how it was with castles in Europe at one time.

But at least now a preservation project has been kicked off though in the midst of an even larger demolition project.

The buildings of Fujian University (the parent school to the campus where I teach) have been maintain much better [above]. Classrooms and offices are still in full use in the original building. The main street constructed during the 1940s, however, is in pretty bad shape [below], but orange circles without are promises that new life is on its way .

#China #Fujian #Fuzhou

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cbwalive · 4 years ago

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CBWA SUPER ESTRELLA EP.10

Welcome everybody to another exciting episode of Super Estrella, I’m your host good ol JR alongside Gordon Solie.

Gordo this Sunday is Wrestle Rock at Sea 4 but before that we have business to attend to tonight.

That’s right Jimbo, when we left you last week the contract was signed for the main event this Sunday between the challenger Goldberg and the champion Raman Reigns and tonight there will be a final face off between the two Also tonight is there friction between two BS Service members as we saw last week The Underfaker and The Fiend couldn’t seem to be on the same page, well they will be tagging up again tonight to face Ax and Smash of Demolition We will also see the brand new CBWA Univision Television champion The Colombian Dragon as he puts the title on the line against Party Jannetty That should be a great one indeed plus we had our camera all last week with Blaster Lashley and PN News to see who is the best food man in Bogotá and the results will shock you folks and wait just a minute that’s the music of AuZZtin and look at this Gordon he has that BMF walk to the ring.

Let’s take you to the ring and see what he has to say Cut the damn music, I’ve been sitting my ass at home long enough, Miz you have a contract for me to sign for Drug Wars 5 well son I have a counter offer for you right here.

Oh boy ZZ is certainly not in the mood tonight Now I ain’t here to sign a stupid contract I’m here to whip your ass so get your sorry ass out here so you can get what’s coming to you The Gatorsnake is wanting The Miz now and oh wait just a minute it’s the boss Mr. Schneider

Now ZZ as the head of creative of The CBWA and as of right now the boss, I can’t have you out here making threats when we all know you are not one hundred percent cleared from your injury, you have to think what would happen if The Miz came out here

I whoop his ass

I can’t have this company reliable if something were to worsen your injury and you can be permanently paralyzed ZZ I appreciate the fact that you and the CBWA care........and I can also appreciate that he’ll you can kiss my ass

Oh my god ZZ just stunned Mr. Schneider and look at this, the cops are on ZZ and they are arresting him, ZZ is going to jail

Folks stay with us we will be right back

And welcome back folks as we are seeing ZZ being hauled off to jail

And I wonder what this means for this Sunday, will ZZ show up to sign the contract as Kenny is now with the Boss Mr. Schneider

Mr. Schneider after what just went down what is going to happen to ZZ Well Mr. AuZZtin will definitely be spending the night in jail and as far as this Sunday goes, if he can not get cleared by Sunday then Mr. AuZZtin will be indefinitely suspended until further notice

Guys you heard it from the boss back to you.

Alright Kenny thank you for that and we we will keep our eyes on that as we take you to the ring in the Fink

The following contest set for one fall is for the CBWA Univision Television Championship, making his way to the ring weighing in at 229lbs Party Jannetty

And there you see Party as this match is brought to by Fruit Stripes, need a fruity taste in your mouth?

Try Fruit Stripes available at your nearest store As we take back to The Fink for the champions introduction.

And his opponent weighing in at 235lbs he is the CBWA Univision Television Champion The Colombian Dragon

Here comes the brand new CBWA Univision Television Champion which he won last week in that epic fatal four way as referee Nicholas Patrick holds up that brand new belt Bell rings and we are underway, as last week Dragon said he would be a fighter champion as he extends his hand for Party but Party totally ignores it and is focusing his attention on some ladies in the front row Party better focus on the champion That indeed as now Party turns around and bam a running knee this all but over 1,2,3 let’s get the official announcement The winner of the match and still CBWA Univision Television Champion The Colombian Dragon And Part...... wait just a minute that music only means one man, could be?

My god it’s The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels, what is he doing here? Folks don’t you dare go away we will be right back

Welcome back folks and if your just tuning in you just missed a surprise appearance from the one and only Shawn Michaels, yes that Shawn Michaels who now has the mic, I can’t wait to hear this.

Super Estrella!!!!!!

The Heartbreak Kid is live and in living color!!!! Now a lot of questions obviously need to be answered but I have to take care of some business first, Party me and you go way back, I know you still like to party obviously but can you still rock and roll? Basically what I’m saying is what you say if we bring the Rockers to the CBWA?

Oh my god what an announcement and Michaels now extending the hand and Party has embraced him, are we seeing the reformation of the Rockers?

And oh wait just a minute Michaels with a super kick What’s this about?

Why Shawn? And now Michaels walks away, folks we will stay on this story for sure as we take you to Kenny

Wow what a crazy night already as I welcome my guest at this time, he is the CBWA Intercontinental Champion Hot Stuff Eddie Gilbert

Champ, welcome back how’s the knee going?

Well Kenny I actually just got back from the doctors and he told me that I’m actually....... Oh wait just a minute we are being interrupted by Foot Von Erich

Shut it Kenny it’s Hollywood Von Erich, I hate to come out here and play spoiler for everybody here and everybody sitting at home baby but I got a hot tip concerning your knee, I’ve been told that your little injury that I caused is worst than thought and it looks like you are going to have a little surgery and you are actually here to surrender that beautiful Intercontinental Title to yours truly, so let’s quit messing around and hand over that title to its rightful owner Well Hollywood once again you are wrong, as a matter of fact I was going to tell everybody that I’m actually one hundred percent and since you wanna come out and spoil stuff, how bout I spoil something for you, this Sunday at Wrestle Rock at Sea 4, you and me for this title and to make it fun, since you think I have one good knee and we all know you got one good foot, let’s make this a ladder match, what do you say “Hollywood” You got it baby

There you have it another great match added for this Sunday at Wrestle Rock at Sea 4, back to you guys

Alright thank you Kenny, Wrestle Rock at Sea this Sunday is shaping up to be a big pay per view you do not want to miss it this Sunday folks, call your local pay per view provider, well now we are going to take you to a video recorded earlier this week as the CBWA camera crews followed both Blaster Lashley and PN Pitmaster News to see who exactly had the best food service in Bogotá check it out Alright guys come on in to Blaster Lashley’s Ubber Eats, we already got a delivery ready to go so hop on in

Should you be eating that? Of course man, I ain’t going to deliver something that could be poisonous to my customers, it’s called customer service man But the food is almost gone Man you are tripping, y’all better not cramp my style, alright here we are stay here Hey you my Ubber Eats guy? The best in town, got your food right here Ummm this is only half of what I ordered Hey man I would take it up with Taco Bell, I just deliver it Oh ok here you go Appreciate your business, uh hold up, you’re a little short Well I didn’t get my full meal Look man I said you are going have to take it up with them, now give me my damn money or I’ll beat it out of you Ok ok here man Thanks have a nice day and thank you for choosing Blaster Lashley Ubber Eats Hey come on in guys, welcome to PN News Pit house, make yourself at home Thanks Pitmaster what’s on the menu? Well.....we have some yo baby yo baby yo baby back ribs, corn on the cob that so good it will make you turn your knob, refried beans that will make your colon mean and cobbler pie that will make you die, I’ll be right back with your plate Alright guys here we are let me know what you guys think, hold that thought I got a driver here, wait a minute you are my Ubber driver? Yeah the best in town man, why did I agree to deliver this garbage? Garbage? Yeah everybody knows that you were the reason for the city wide sickness with your expired meat You better watch what you say fat boy Looks who’s talking chubby I’m about to show you chubby And as you see Gordon a fight broke out between Lashley and PN News and we just got confirmation from Mr. Schneider that this Sunday it will be PN Pitmaster News goes one on one with Blaster Lashley Those poor camera crew Indeed well we are going take a quick break and we will be right back with our main event right after this

And welcome back to Super Estrella it’s main event time as we take you to the Fink

The following contest set for one fall is a tag team match making their way to the ring at a total combined weight of 621lbs Ax and Smash Demolition

And their opponents first weighing in at 317LBS The Fiend Bray Wyatt And his tag team partner to be accompanied to the ring by his manager Zombie Robert Blake, weighing in at 308lbs the Underfaker These two were not in the same page last week against Roberto Gibson so this is a take two if you will for them as they are going up against Ax and Smash of Demolition, bell rings as it looks like it’s going to be Ax and The Fiend starting off for their respective team and The Fiend is taking out some frustration on Ax and a tag to Underfaker and faker taking Ax for a ride and wow what athleticism from the big man a flying closeline and now look at this Gordon, The Fiend tagged himself in and Faker didn’t seem to like that at all No he sure didn’t as now The Fiend whips Ax to his corner and tells Smash to tag in, reluctantly he does and is met with a hard right hand Wow what power from this man and now throws Smash into the ropes and a huge body dive knocking the wind out of both men, who got the worst of that? And now Underfaker tags himself in and look at this a stare down And now look out as Smash from behind nails The Fiend who bumps into the Underfaker and now Faker has The Fiend around the throat and down with a chokeslam, what is going on with this two? Smash with the cover 1 and a kick out by The Fiend, Fiend is now up and mandible claw and here comes Ax and a Sister Abigail for his trouble, 1,2,3 let’s go to The Fink for the official announcement and wait before we go to that The Fiend has the mandible claw in the Underfaker, look at this Gordon Certainly these two can’t co exist Well security trying to break these two up, folks don’t you dare go anywhere, Goldberg and Reigns face to face right after this

And welcome back folks before we get to the showdown between Goldberg and Reigns we have breaking news as it pertains to Wrestle Rock at Sea this Sunday from the boss Mr. Schneider three huge matches have been added to the card thanks to what we saw tonight, the CBWA Univision Television Championship will be on the line as the champion Colombian Dragon will defend his title against BS Service member Johnny Seenya, Party Jannetty will go one on one with his former tag team partner Shawn Michaels and this next one is very interesting Gordon That’s right even though it looks like these two are not on the same page they will have to this Sunday as The Underfaker and The Fiend will challenge the CBWA Tag Team Champions City Hall and the titles will be on the line Wow what a huge match that is going to be as we take a look at the updated card also earlier tonight the challenge was accepted it will be a ladder match for the CBWA Intercontinental Championship as Hollywood Von Erich will face the champion Hot Stuff Eddie Gilbert Also because of what happened tonight BS Service member Blaster Lashley will go one on one with PN Pitmaster News And I hope to never see this match again as it’s a first and hopefully a last, a last jerk off standing match for the CBWA Hardcore title between the champ Garth Lane and challenger Left Eye Gibson The woman’s champion Alexa Bliss put up an open challenge to anyone this Sunday, it would be very interesting to see who will accept The number one contender Powerhouse Steve Ryder will go one on one with Brian Withers with the number one contender spot for Drug Wars 5 on the line Also will ZZ be able to come up with a clear doctors note to compete at Drug Wars 5 and sign the contract against The Miz? That indeed and I even hate to say this, but a father and son will be in a fight cage surrounded by fire as Frank Converse will go one on one with his flesh and blood, his own son Boltsy and Frank said if he can not defeat his son he will set himself on fire and breathe his last breath, my god folks And our main event Gordon, for the CBWA World Heavyweight Championship inside the demonic steel cage it will be Goldberg trying to regain the title he fought so hard to get against the champion Raman Reigns, I’m telling you folks this is a pay per view you do not wanna miss, the last pay per view before the biggest show of the year Drug Wars 5, call your local pay per view provider and don’t miss this one bit as we now take you to the ring and Kenny standing by, take it away Kenny Alright JR and Gordon thank you very much this is the finally showdown before the this Sunday at Wrestle Rock at Sea 4 where these two men will compete inside a steel cage match for the CBWA World Heavyweight title, so let me introduce to you first the challenger Goldberg!!!!!! And here he comes Gordon Looks to be very focused JR Alright and now The CBWA World Heavyweight Champion The tribal chief Raman Reigns Hey jabroni up here on the the screen, you think for one damn second I was going to go in that ring and have that crazy man try to spear me yet again? I’m the CBWA World Heavyweight Champion, the head of the table the tribal chief, in other words I say what goes down, now this Sunday Goldberg it will be me and you in a steel cage match for this title right here but Goldberg let me make this perfectly clear to you, after I beat you again, that’s it, no more shot at this, you will never ever get a title shot again as long as I’m the champion, which will be a very long time cause let’s face it their ain’t a man on this roster that can sniff me Enough of the talking champ, why don’t do be a man for once and bring your ass down here because you can’t avoid it much longer but you’re next!!!!! Oh wait just a minute that’s the music of the number one contender Steve Ryder Is he coming to the ring? Oh wait a minute back in the ring Reigns is in the ring and Goldberg saw it coming and the stare down is on, folks we are out of time don’t you dare miss this Sunday on pay per view Wrestle Rock at Sea 4 we will see you on the sea this Sunday!!!!!!

0 notes

stone-man-warrior · 4 years ago

Text

December 26, 2020: 1:32 pm:

Thunderbird’s Episode: 0000000-00000-000

INVALID SYNTAX ERROR

Operation Crash Dive

youtube

♦ “What’s the count Ump?”

♣ “I don’t know, they are playing Bad Minton“

♥ “What’s the score Ump?”

♣ “Looks like two down, bases loaded, they brought in a pinch hitter”

♠ “What a racket, it’s only the bottom of the second, and they already cleared the net”

♥ “oohh.... I love cello music!”

♦ “They are serving funnel cakes at the concession stand, free with a $5 beer”

There is a glitch in the Secret Decoder Ring Roster of Decode on Decoder Ring RADAR.

==============================================

Ok, I watched the episode, Operation Crash Dive, I think DB Cooper was watching too, through the back door slider... sneaky bastard.

Today’s presentation was presented in “Subordi-nato-Scope”, in “DownRangOvision”, with “Enhanced High Fidelity Stereo-Sonic Theater” audio.

Produced by: “Pan-Jam-Air-Waves-Broadcasting” and featuring: “Red”

===================================

It looks like the Capitol Records Executives are still held captive in that echo chamber basement beneath the Capitol Records Building, and are revealing a lot of Hollywood secrets to Tommy-Two-Toe’s & Three-Finger’s-Louie, while Guido man‘s the control room in the recording booths at the 12th floor.

Red... lot’s of red... all kinds of red. It turns out that the red comes in all shapes and sizes, and can be applied to other, non-red items, quickly, and easily, over time.

International Rescue is heading for the Los Angeles Times. It appears that they see oportunity there, for harnessing that “Above The Fold Front Page Headline Real-Estate” that exists on newspapers. That’s handy for controlling people with scary headlines.

Meanwhile, in reality, I suspect the take over of LA Times happened shortly prior to the introductory issue of USA Today newspaper, to my recollection, that happened in around 1972-ish. There was a local newspaper in Southern California at that time, when some changes with the paper sparked outrage and scorn from long time loyal subscribers. “The Green Sheet” was a local newspaper, was not a small newspaper, was the Go-To newspaper for knowing what’s going down in the neighborhood. “The Green Sheet” was actually printed on Green Paper for the Front Page, Back Page, and Center Fold. About the time when USA Today showed up on news stands, “The Green Sheet” turned white... no more Green Paper in the Green Sheet happened, the paper was printed with the same title, “The Green Sheet”, but there was no green to be found anywhere in The Green Sheet newspaper after that. The San Fernando Valley, was outraged!

===== 7:38 pm: Extra:

For reasons that have no support other than having been at a hot-spot at a hot-time, I feel there is a direct connection with “Gone Postal” 1970′s Post Office attack news stories presented at time, and, the introduction of USA Today newspaper. I remember, as a 9 year old. that the USA Today was something special for some reason, I recall there was much talk about the USA Today newspaper’s premier issue, I should not have noticed, I was 9 or so, but I did notice, and remember some connection to “Gone Postal”, and that was terror news media saying that they had taken over the US Postal Service at various offices, one at a time, working their way up to USPS Central Federal Office of Operations, at state levels, then the master unit, where ever that is. USA Today played some kind of role with “Gone Postal” news stories.

=====

The Operation Crash Dive episode is showing a ton of Green Jello Terror Cell Easter Eggs within the episode. My first knowledge of Green Jello being some kind of mysterious import thing was in around 1970, in Canoga Park California.

=== 7:47 pm: Green Jello leadership is at 560 Jackpine, Myers family terror cell. They played a big leadership part for the collapse of World Trade Center, when Ron Howard was the man who was in the helicopter that took the only live shot of the so called airplane crash. I was the person who made what was called a “Key Mask Filter” for that, while held captive at my home, forced into making a lot of graphic materials, photo manipulations, designs of guitars and parts of guitars, instrument panel artwork that is currently used on Boeing airplanes, and other airplane signage for Boeing after they were hijacked in Seattle. Myers at 560 worked in close contact with people such as Ron Howard, David Letterman, Jay Leno, others, at the time. The guitar makers were Zakk Wylde, Paul Reed Smith (I designed all of the “Dragons” special “One of a Kind” Dragon art that went on the guitars, my daughter designed one of those, was there for help with the Dragons), Dean Zelinsky Guitars, while Eastwood Guitars were the people in charge of all of the guitar designs I was forced to do, and, Dean Zelinsky was there in the 1970′s at my house, with all of those musicians I was controlled by back then, so Dean Zelinsky must be associated to Harold & Joan Phillips at 507 Jackpine, as those people also have somehow wound up following me, then moving as a neighbor, after encountering them as a child in 1970′s. The Dean ML is my design from back then, it’s a letter K, flying V. Dean was involved with Eddie Van Halen, and Bill Gates, who are old friends of one another. I did guitar work as a young kid, forced by Dean Zelinsky. Myers is a big part of Green Jello, and the oldest connection I have to Green Jello is from Dean Zelinsky 1970′s, actually in direct association to the British throne. There is Much to say, the information goes in so many directions, with Royalty at my house in the 1970′s who showed up with Tony Iommi, and the members of Pink Floyd before the Dark Side of the Moon was recorded, and took me to a European castle dungeon. Then again with meeting the Queen in Reseda California 10 years later, at about the same time I met Barack Obama, who went by the name “Black Steve” at the time. Much to know if there were only some people interested in doing national security work other than me. ===

I suspect there is some indications of a plan to take over the General Motors Manufacturing Facility that I think was on Van Nuys Blvd at Roscoe, where at the time, the Corvette’s were being built there, see old news stories about a Auto Workers Union Strike at that facility, some time after the take over, as the so-called strike was used to lure “Scab” labor, for “Kill & Replace”, to that facility, people guided there by Los Angeles Media. There is also something similar about a manufacturing facility of some kind that was on Canoga Ave. between Roscoe and Saticoy, along the Freight Rail Road there, that leads to Anheuser Busch in Chatsworth, where I am certain was hijacked along with the Cerwin Vega High Fidelity Audio Manufacturer nearby Anheuser Busch, in the 1970′s, but I don‘t see that in this episode, other than the Corvette Factory, which is subtly presented in the episode.

I noticed that these guys have Hydroplane technology in 1965... that is some whiz-bang high tech... should make a “What can be said about Hydroplane?” list.

Start with: “Slide” and work from there, once you reach “Airplane” and “Hide”, then switch to “Where did all of those thousands of paratroopers come from when they landed in So. Cal.?”, in order to understand that there were a whole bunch of airplanes parked in weird places back then... Palmdale, Thousand Oaks, Sun Valley, Balboa Reservoir, are places where dozens of airplanes were just parked in places where there was no airport, back then, in 1969-ish. Best guess is they were DC-9 US Postal Service aircraft. John Wayne Airport should show up in Thunderbird’s episodes coded in pretty soon as the viewing continues. Analyze that name... John Wayne. I met him once in a boat in Santa Monica Harbor, called “The Duke”, about a 80 foot sloop. Things did not work out for Mr. Wayne that day, or for the people who brought me there, a 1972 Ford Ranchero wound up in the harbor, under water, as a result of my visit.

The episodes are clearly showing symbolism that a elongated triangle shape is important, some indications are a computer read out on a paper receipt, and on elevators in previous episodes, they are showing up in many places. Generally speaking, this Operation Crash Dive is presenting a notion of what I am going to label as “Natural Progression”, is the gradual increase in small details in the backgrounds of the Thunderbird’s puppet show sound stage sets. I am going suggest that as the “Natural Progression” of small details increases, so does the details associated with over-all progress of take-over, or, with detail in the planning of making progress later. Small increases in what you might call Resolution of the back-ground artifacts within, such as knobs, screens, wall art, controlling surfaces, clothing, props and more, seem as increase knowledge or increase physical gain indicators, like triangles are used on classic car turn-signal indicator on the dash... see how the airplane dash-board catches fire in the episode as the window is being cut with a round hole for the pilots to escape into what looks like an elevator car, the dash fire, is a turn indicator, “turn” means “Turn-Coat”, “Treasonous”... see “Don’t Let it Bring You Down” by Neil Young for more about turning, newspapers, blind people, people who have answers, buses, castles, and not to worry about any of that because the Baby is on Fire, you can just throw her in the water.... and Mr. Young is a Canadian who says he invented a motor that runs on Hydrogen.

=================================

Maybe I’ll add some more later. It’s 3:20 pm.

==================================

3:26 pm:

One more thing before I forget, for you physicists out there, don‘t forget to simplify. Example: You have a three dimensional shape in your hand, one that can be described with an equation, such as a sphere, or cube, and those are Prisms, there are Triangular-Prisms to think about here, the Triangular Prism is the single most simple, and is the absolute strongest of all Three-Dimensional Prisms. Don’t be a Tetrahedronic-Prism in a wold controlled by Triangular Ones, you could wind up in a Trapezoidal-Prism.

====

3:58 pm:

More about Three-Dimensional Prisms:

They can be used to control social conditions.

Simple idea: You know that the very strongest of all shapes, in the universe, is a Triangular Prism, nothing comes even close to the strength of a Triangular Prism. You know that, because you are no fool, you did your home work, you are smart mother fucker, did the math, saw it work, made some models, and you know that the thing is as strong as strong can possibly be. Even a paper one is strong among other paper prisms. Indestructible is the Triangular Prism.

So, smart people who take over the media, have tools available to make sure that other people are not as smart as you and your gang, so, those guys, set out to build a whole bunch of Tetrahydronic Prisms to surround themselves with. Triangular Prisms all with Tetrahydronic ones all around, only select people are allowed to know about the secrets of the Pyramids.

They did it with media, over time.

The terror bastards stay smart, because they are not interested in the garbage that is presented on TV, newspapers, movies, etc. They like music, that is where the brains are at. So, millions of people, all wondering what Al Bundy is going to do next, makes all those people dumber than a box of rocks at a quarry. Add Luke & Laura’s wedding, stretch that out over, say, five months, and everyone is waiting to get fucked, as they show us Al Bundy go into the restroom every episode with his newspaper, just to make sure we all remember to wash our hands before the Tonight Show is over, because that, is when everyone gets laid.

Too Much Information is the thing that builds a society of Tetrahydronic Prisms all in a Trapezoidal Prism, with no way out, because the whole USA is built with walls made of Triangular Prisms.

Stay smart, keep it simple.

The mystery of the Pyramids makes that task daunting when trying to explain why everything is so complicated.

They made it so you have to be a Tetrahydronic Prism in order to explain or teach the secrets of the Pyramids, a Triangular Prism where Amp Guru lives.

=========

4:27 pm:

Make an experimental comparison, see reality in a power circuit:

You need: One, one-hundred watt guitar amplifier w/speaker, TUBE DRIVEN.

One digital powered amplifier, one-hundred watt. Such as a powered speaker.

They each consume one-hundred watts of electricity.

You can use other wattage. Use what you have. Base your experiment on the wattage of the Tube Amp.

Play something through the tube amp.

Play something through the digital amp.

Compare.

The power consumption is the same for each, but the Tube Driven amp will prove to you that it is far superior to the digital amp power.

The two are not even close.

You might need 50 digitally powered amps to match the output of one single Tube Driven amp.

Try it and see for yourself. There are a lot of questions about why are we using sub-efficient tech, when there is superior tech that has been available for nearly a century? Far superior.

This is important for learning about who Amp Guru is, and how they think, how they control people, and communicate with one-another.

Is the rate of power consumption equal between the two amps? I don‘t have the answer, I watched Married With Children too much, and.... Luke & Laura’s Wedding, so, it’s hopeless for me, maybe not too late for you though.

This URL... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6IxCMNx4znY

(But the Browser version of the same URL leads to what I want to see, hear, share with you:)

{12-27-2020: 1:10 pm: Yesterday, when I posted the link to the Pink Floyd, some other video showed up here, below, I should have taken a screen shot, but did not do that, and now I am made to look as the fool, because I watched Married with Children too many times, and apparently Luke & Laura finally went on that honeymoon... left the mess here on this page. So, now, I can’t show you that other place where the link, linked to. Ohh well.. the good news, is I can listen to the album now, could not do that yesterday. (you have to imagine that the remainder of the post was written while the link was wrong, presented some other video there below, otherwise you won‘t know what happened)}

Makes this video happen:

youtube

Could be a bug...

Certainty is part of the Syntax Error.

It’s not the Decoder Ring. That works good.

I’ll try again... after some scans, reset the signal amplification modulation unit, adjust the rabbit ears...

That’s the problem... that fucking RABBIT! He’s inside the Symantec norton 360 internet security software I pay a lot of money for every year. That dreaded norton Life Lock Pop Up Window happened as I was explaining about the 100 watt tube driven amplifier experiment, it says: “Your Wi-Fi May Be at Risk”.

I don‘t use Wi-Fi. It’s not at risk. There are other risks, and they may be Wi-Fi risks, but I don‘t use Wi-Fi, others are able to use the Wi-Fi for me, inside of my computer, without my knolledge or consent. The problem is at Centurylink ISP, Oregon.

I don’t even have a Wi-Fi modem, but that won‘t stop the Sheriff and State Police from saying that I Piggy Back Wi-Fi from somewhere else.

Restarting initialization sequence now...

==================

5:53 pm:

Local Update:

The computer URL Hijack was done to get me to go outside for a walk to the mailbox, where along the path starting from the moment I opened my front door a series of activity was roled out for attack from Chartrand’s at 376 Jackpine with much support at Strong’s SAG house at 3747 Russell Road, and other, hidden support to the south on Russell, and distant assist from farther east somewhere.

The attack plan is a Pacific Power Corp attack plan, has been done dozens of times. I know how to defend from the Pacific Power Corp w/Centurlink assist attack’s when they are roled out. Many involved, as many a perhaps 20 individuals necessary for this attack scenario, mostly staged at Chartrand and Strong’s terror cell physical locations, with digital location inside my computer.

First was the set-up, all day my eyes were not working, had very poor vision, they have a poison aerial gas that produces that symptom, and a airplane flyover at the very moments that I plugged in my coffee maker was used as a signal through the Smart Meter Power Meter to read and transmit my power consumption live, as I use electricity. The Smart Meter at my house is isolated at Pacific Power HQ as one to monitor 24/7 as I consume power, thereby alerting the Pacific Power Corp terror cell of some detail about what I may be doing, and where I may be physically located inside my home.

The coffee maker produces a signal to Pacific Power in the form of amperage consumed, about 7 amps draw is my guess. They learn my habits by the consumption of electricity, they learn what kinds of electric powered things I use, over time, make a data base, use that to assist in a physical attack at my home, today, the coffee maker signaled a airplane, the airplane was used to dump a load of poison gas over my home, the gas was sucked into the house by virtue of the return-air vent of the forced air heating system, that produces a negative air pressure condition inside the home, thereby drawing in air through small cracks, holes, under the front door where they intentional wrecked the door sweep insulating rubber years ago, and other places such as the chimney, where the poison gas from aerial delivery sparked into action by use of a coffee maker, is drawn into the house where I breath it, making my eyesight poor, and a feeling of false security and well being is washed over me that way.

I suspect other gas was introduced into various places around the home throughout the day, all in effort to set me up for he walk to the mailbox after a full day of breathing a variety of poison gasses.

The sound of loud screaming was heard from the distant east as I opened the door and began to walk to the road to get my mail. The scream sounds were female, and were compounded with a duplication of the exact same screams from the nearby southwest direction, and additional duplicated screaming was from the south, near 560 or 598 Jackpine backyard areas. The screams were what I would associate to someone mauled in a wild animal attack, lasted about one minute, was intense screaming.

At the same time, Strong’s terror cell deployed two vehicles, one went south on Russell road, the other unknown, but I suspect it was people I encountered at Chartrand’s a few moments later. The people were already in their cars, waiting for me to open my front door, they have access to a listening device that was put under my house by the front porch somewhere. Then, along the path to mailbox, things quieted down. I checked the mail, the box was slightly opened already, the mail was a bill, somewhat crumpled, and placed inside the box in a way that is not consistent with the way the mail carriers put the mail in there, each mail carrier, it turns out, has a signature way they put the mail into the mailboxes, it’s possible to determine if the mail carrier was the regular one, or the substitute one, simply by the way the mail is placed inside the box. Today’s mail was placed by some other person.

As I reached for the mail, that is when the physical part of the attack began as a car (from Strong’s) came down the road. The Strong terror cell consistently roles a car to Chartrand’s most of the time I go get mail. So that happened.

Today, I already had figured out the Centurylink/Pacific Power attack before I went out there, some of that is evident in the contents of the Tumblr entry today.

The way to deal with the biggest thugs, is meet them head on, and drop one, then leave.

So, I walked over there to Chartrand’s to drop some thugs as they had just driven from Strong’s and parked.

As I approached, I lit my Bic Lighter constantly with intermittent small uses of the lighter.

There were sounds of popping, some thud noises, bang, bop, baddaboom... a short delay, then that car left Chartrand’s, as the car left, i was standing by that front driveway at 376. The car was not able to maintain a straight path forward, was all along the shrubs at the soft shoulder, wheels off the road, and swerving. the car stated to drive into the Clyde Baum terror cell at 333, then turned straight down the road and out of view.

I walked home.

As I turned to walk home, either that same car, or another car, came down the road towards me, by back to the headlights. When I looked to see what car it was, the car was not there. There was no car there, I think it was two people with flashlights on foot mimicking a car as I turned to walk home, and were seemingly alerted into action by the other car that was swerving.

I suspect the attack team from Pac-Pow, had burst from nitrous gas ignition as I approached over their to drop some thugs. I also suspect that car was a remote control car, was operated by the two flashlight men on the road who mimicked a car headlights.

Another assessment is the typical one, after things went sideways at Chartrand’s, the back-up plan was quickly deployed, to say I hurt the people in that car so I could steal their car, that means the County Sheriff is at Clyde Baum’s at 333 orchestrating the Pac-Pow/Centurylink attack, along with Oregon State Police terror operatives there.

Big operation today, they must be Orthopedic Surgeons over there, plastered, from Quebec.

Fail.

It’s 6:54 pm.

=========

8:57 pm: “Keep it simple” approach to finding and apprehending hard core terror mass murderers:

Hope. Follow the hope. The people who promote hope, the people will sell hope to you... if they are telling that hope is a good thing, it’s likely that is a terror murderer, it’s simple as that.

The Rules:

Hope is what remains after everything else is gone. Those are the rules.

So, if it’s a Hopeless situation, in terror language, that is like having vast riches.

They played the turn-a-round on what we believe hope is about.

If you have a family, a home, some money, some valuables, vehicles.. if you have some stuff that you enjoy, do you really want of need the hope that they want to give to you, or worse, sell to you?

They will find a way, to make you want some hope. If you fail the Hope Test, you mark yourself to be taken out by those who understand the true meaning of what really is. So, find the Hope Dealers, make arrests. It’s like a drug the world does not need.

The same people who want to hand out all of that hope, will come to ask what you are proud of, when you mention how proud of your family you are, and say why, and tell stories about Pride, that is when they hunt down and kill everything you are proud of, then, that’s when they come back, not to give you hope, but to tell you that you can buy it.

The farm is sold, with stories of hope and pride.

====

9:23 pm: The terror come from Britain. At some point in the not so distant past, what USA used to think about as England, changed emphasis, to Britain.

If you grew up at some point before about the 1980′s, maybe you understand that England to Britain transitional condition that took place.

Why?

The reason is the language we use, the English language, it’s called English because it originated in England. The language was developed as a weapon to aid Christian Crusades, the double meanings, and round-a-bout nature of the word craft is by design, so, when the British began to go hard core with use of the weapon language over the broadcast airwaves when SAG came aboard their Pirate ship, the British do what they have always done, draw attention to some other place, while maintaining control, and illusion of superiority. The terror includes a campaign for switching thoughts away from England, in favor of United Kingdom, and Britain, for subject matter that leads over in that direction. We don‘t say England any more, we say The UK because of the campaign to draw attention away from the source of the English Weapon.

It’s take my whole life to learn that, I remain confidant that some other people will understand the enormity of it, because the enemy are the people who crafted the language we use to speak with.

The words themselves, are a variety of poison.

There is a dictionary, they gave us a dictionary, send us to school to learn English. We are scolded if we misuse the words, or spell them “wrong”, that happens while the enemy has a alternate use dictionary, one that allows more freedom of expression, more creativity, more legroom, more headroom, is very handy, can be used as a front with the dictionary version we are bound to, while others are saying completely different ideas in the background of the same conversation. It’s the same as “White Man Speak With Forked Tongue”, or, “Double Talk”. The enemy speaks English up front, and Mayan in the background at the same time, with dialect considerations, words are crafted on the fly, outside of the boundaries of a dictionary, for taking victims at the One Hour Martinizing. They used to speak Mandarin there, now, they speak English, and no one can understand what the heck they are talking about there.

I suspect that the presence of what I have been calling “Ancient Chinese Secret” contained in the Thunderbird’s episodes, could turn out to be the idea that the English language is a “Double Speak” language, so, they need to announce that within the episodes, at places in the episodes where double-talk is done, so that the terror operatives who need the command orders will know when to use the dictionary, and when to switch to “Ancient Chinese Secret” language, which is portrayed with the notion that the Chinese Laundry has all changed, and is now called “One Hour Martinizing”, and those guys at the Martinizer are best described as “SAG newsmedia personalities”, so, when it looks as if a Mobile news crew is on the scene, that is the same as “Ancient Chinese Secret”.

That’s my read about that.

===

10:09 pm: Although it may be best to describe the “One Hour Martinizing” as newsmedia personalities, I still believe it’s important to say that it’s also the entire visual media industry, a place where they do some front office work, in the back office.

Think about the older television programs, the ones that were on for One Hour, are different than those that were only on for a half hour. Shows like Laugh-In, the Carol Burnette Show, and Glen Cambel Music Hour are going to prove to be way up the command chain at the Martinizer, and those guys are subordinate to Amp Guru, Music Industry, originating at the Vatican, trickling down to British commercial music industry, leading to British Invasion, where we Meet the Beatles, and are slaughtered, with take over of US Music Industry, to start with.

=====

10:31 pm:

Gone Postal Terror:

Hijack of US Postal Service came with Russian Mother Hoax Fractal View.

Say you are a kid eating breakfast, have some time before school, see that if you send in 10 Box Tops from the cereal box, you can get Thunderbird’s Paper Hamburger Server Hat, they say it’s a Space Mission Leprechaun Hat, but you know what it really is, and, you already collected nine other box tops, so, you put those into the envelope along with the postage necessary to ship the Hamburger Hat to you (It’s like a mini Pope Hat) and off to school you go, while dropping that into the mailbox, red flag goes up, and onto the Bus you go.

Three days later, you are missing, and the newsmedia warns about the presence of a Cereal Killer, but unless you read the news paper, you won‘t ever know there is a typo in the paper, where they spelled it “Serial Killer”, the way “Amp Guru” spells it. Some other place says “Surreal Killer” (The Star, Mom reads that in the bathroom), while they are searching for you offshore. Reality is you in a dungeon at school, held captive. because the “Gone Postal” terror cell, is “The Stork”, and they put you in the dungeon with other kids who also sent something in the mail, like a note to Santa, with return address on there, so Santa knows where to find you.

Gone.... Postal.

Taken by the Stork, for delivery to the terror training center at a SDA nanny not far away.

There are a few ways the double speak is done for killing and replacing, kidnapping and taking, the English way, on TV, school, at the store where the cereal came from (Post Cereal for Fractal View), newspaper headline, and at home.

===

11:04 pm:

It’s been about six years since I began to write eye-witness terror experiences this go around, there have been other times when the information was all deleted by the county sheriff who said help was on the way before deleting the information. That other time, there must have been someone who had power to help, and read the information, sent the local authorities to my house. But those people did not understand the enormity, the complexity, the extreme nature of the Christian terror army. I wonder if those people survived the return rapture that is done when outsiders get involved in Oregon?

So, I started again writing about six years ago, after waiting what seemed an eternity for that help to arrive... no help came. I started again six years ago, on Google+, they deleted the whole Google+ as a result. Had to start over, carried all of that writing here to Tumblr, where I have absolutely no indication whatsoever that anyone has actually seen any of the information I put here.

There is no reason at all for me to believe that this account even exists, it’s like I am a ghost, surviving in a house, with no one to haunt, all alone, and no one will read the notes I leave behind.

There is no indication that anyone can see these writings other than the terror bastards who toss the information back at me in three dimensions while waging an attack. Happens almost every day, but no help has come to speak to me, write an email to me, send a letter to me, call on the telephone to me, send a text message, or even a carrier pidgin or smoke signal to say that they got the message, read it, are making a effort... nothing but silence and attack at my home ever happens.

The terror bastards take what I write... they actually not only read it, but they made a searchable data base out of the raw information I put here in paragraph form, with some links that don‘t always work the way they are supposed to, and other photos and visual aids that no one can see, other than the terror army. That data base is real, you may think I am joking, there are no jokes here, any humor you find is part of the terror, the Comedy mask of SAG built in to the terror, it goes along with the Tragedy mask, and all of that is part of Covfefe Presidential Grade SAG Terror. The data base serves the terror army, is cross referenced to another data base of lies told to federal officers, so that the terror army can better know what lies go with what parts of these entries, to maintain the trickery they do, and keep the federal officer entertained. I suspect there is at least one more data base of cross reference to a “alternate universe” sort of psuedo mirror backwards version of what I write here. There is much evidence to support such a mirrored bassackwards version written by other persons, for further fuckery to my cries for help.

The whole Google+ Social Media Platform of millions of accounts was deleted, not just mine, it was done to cover their asses, no one really knows the true reason why they deleted Google+ is all contained inside this Tumblr account that no one can see.

The terror bastards not only attack the ways I explain here, but they use poison gasses to foul me up, they have gas that makes you need a restroom, one that makes you itch like crazy, the nitrous makes you stupid enough that you will hand over your wallet, badge, gun, car keys, and photos of the wife & kids, right to them, when they say: “Hey, I collect those, can I have that one?“... “sure, here you go.” Then they say: “we have a ride, it’s like a roller coaster... let’s go ride the roller coaster” then they take you to a giant razor blade looks like a sllde, people all lined up to ride it, body halves on each side and the sound: “weeeeee” as another child is cut in two, SAG audience cheers.

So the gasses they use are also ones that make my vision not work, and that is pumped into the house after they toss a handfull of ground up glass dust into my eyes at the store, the cashiers do that part, it’s like saw dust made of glass, makes you blind for a month or more if it sets in real good.

The terror is layered like that, one thing means another similar Fractal iteration will be done, the same in some ways, different in other ways, and the difference is Fractal Iterated further after that... ditto, etc, and so on....

But there is absence of assistance in every way.

===

Seriously, the closest thing to getting some help to stop terror, happened at a time when I didn‘t know it was terror I needed the help for, in around 1970 when Elton John showed up with all of those other musicians in my youth, he saw what was going, was opposed to it, I asked for help, he said he would help.

He left, called later, said he can’t help, they killed Olivia, his wife.... no one knows or cares that they switched the Olivia’s.

I don’t ever defend entertainers, and the rainbow warriors really make me angry, but I set that aside because that is what happened, and is the only example of anyone even offering any help, and that was nearly 50 years ago.

It’s an example of extreme terror, and that was before they became powerful.

===

Maybe that was the help.

Saying that they killed the Olive, switched it out for an Onion, the SAG Union, could have been what he was saying to a 9 year old who had no idea what a Union was, other than some obscure math class lesson about exclusivity.

I understand now.

Let’s see if Elton joins the 27 Club in the coming weeks as a result of this post.

This particular lyric video hurts my ears to listen to, kinda tinny, good stereo separation though, and is pegged on the VU Meters, lots of clipping going on, it’s all fucked up, and is difficult to read... must be perfect.

youtube

The Queen will send him to Duordia before she sends him to 27 Club.

Happens all the time.

==========================

12-27-2020:2:06 pm:

There are turkeys outside somewhere nearby, that means Sparacino terror cell is trying to sneak up to put some kind of poison gas into the house, happens almost daily. Sparacino’s are part of: SAG; Oregon County Courts; County Sheriff; State Police; Li’l Pantry Market’s; Velero Gas Stations; Mikey’s Video; Video World, and that Taco restaurant nearby Merlin Li’l Pantry.

======

Triangular Prism. It’s as strong a shape as can be made.

But if you drop one, the pointy tips start to break off, a paper one will squish at the pointy tips. Keep dropping the Triangular Prism, over and over again, it will become smaller, and smaller, and increasingly smaller, less pointy, more round.

Eventually, the Triangular Prism will become spherical, loose it’s pointy vibe, then, the thing is more predictable in which direction it will go, when you smack it with a Louisville Slugger.

Something to think about.

====

12-27-2020: 2:28 pm:

I explained about how the forced air unit for your heater makes a negative pressured condition inside the house and will draw in air from outdoors through many tiny cracks, holes, and vents that houses have built into them, or are purposefully made, happen from seasonal moisture conditions as materials swell and contract, or are simply from wear over time. There is other considerations that investigative people need to know when dealing with terror soldiers who use airborne gasses to over power their victims. You need to understand that the terror bastards don‘t need to be right there at the front door, vent, or window to get the gas into your house, all they need is a breeze, and to release he gas such the the breeze does the work of carrying it to the house. All they need to know is when the heater or air conditioner is running, and that will go on, and turn off intermittently. The Smart Meter, when manned by Pacific Power representatives at their Smart Meter Receiver HQ to alert the terror soldiers, is handy for use a means to advise gas wielding terror soldiers about the timing of when to release the gas into the breeze. I have often heard the words: “We have the wind”, spoken from a neighboring yard as the breeze kicks in. That means the wind is in favor of the gas wielding terror soldiers, who play innocent as they poison you with gas released on the wind.

One more piece to this part of the puzzle is the electronics that make the heater work, the thermostat. They actually made thermostats with remote control functionality, even the ones the don‘t say they are remote operation capable, are indeed remotely operational to some extent, all they need is remote control to turn the fan unit on when they need it to be on. The rest of the heating system does not need to function, but the fan does in order to create the negative air pressure condition necessary to draw in the poison gas, so, they have that capability at my house, because I had one of those digital thermostats installed at my home. Trust me, the old “Bi-Metal” thermostat is what you want to keep, don‘t let some asshole sell you a digital thermostat, the bi-metal is superior for safety.

I suspect the tech that works the remote for the hidden control in the thermostat is Infra-Red like the TV remote, except with addition of a digital enhancement of some kind. That could also possibly be the technology that works the implanted microphone transmitter in my jaw.... infra-red technology.

All of that stuff combined will get poison gas into anyone’s house, regular citizens. or FBI on stake out.... everyone is set up in advance, and is the presence of Bob Hope, all of the time.

2:55 pm: small airplane buzzed over top of my house as I write this.

========

3:06 pm: I write stuff here, then I read it to see what the bastards changed, then, I have to make the changes to put it back to the way I wrote it.

some consistency in the terror changes made are noteworthy, provided that the not stays the way I write it.

Tee-ache-eee spells the word “The”.

Often, if when I write “Tee-Ache-eee--en“ to say “Then“ or, “Tee-ache-aye-why” to say “Thay”, those are conditions that often get changed to: “Ache-eee”, “He”, and to “Tee-ache-eee”, “The”. I write “Then“ and it gets changed to “The”. I write “The”, and it gets changed to “He”.

There are hundreds of examples throughout these post entries where the words are changed out by some Christian Cult Zealot somewhere at Tumblr, Google, or Centurylink ISP.

The reason they do that is not known, the history of it’s significance is known, as follows:

The

The Ology

Theology

Study of God; The Bible

They are inserting some God into my reports of Terror.

People from places other than UK don‘t have the kind of background information about the language we use as dose the people who are from places closer to the source of the language.

I think I can demonstrate to you why the word “The” is the same as “God”.

Just start talking. Every time you need the word, “The”, pay close attention to what follows that word when you speak, or write.

Every last thing that follows “The”, is a thing that is said to have been “Created”. That means God created it, if you are a Christian Cult Zealot, so, when you point at the coffee in the store and say: “look, the coffee is on sale” you are saying “God Coffee is on sale”, he created it. That is the history of it. You can make it as simple or as complicated as you want to, but everything that follows the word “The” is said to have been a thing that was created, by God, by golly.

I don‘t follow the God crowd, so, to me, either the thing was made from evolution, circumstance, distance from the Sun, a person, or bug or animal, such as the dam made by the beaver.

We are getting closer and closer to the Sun as time passes. The gravity of the Sun draws Earth ever closer with each satellite revolution the Earth makes around the Sun. Changes will occur naturally. Eventually, we will be on the equivalent of Venus, no where to go, as things heat up. So, why not live peacefully and enjoy the ride, eventually, the ride will come to an end.

The only hope, is to develop powerful rockets that could push Earth a little farther away from the Sun... but.... what could go wrong?

Then, there is the Latin extension of the word “The”, it’s “El”.

The bastards like to simplify that word, “El”, it gets reduced simply to “L”.

So, sometimes, “L” is the same as “The”, in order for a Christian Cult Zealot to say the word “God”. But when they do that, it’s done in Vane, so, that means “Vain” also, for those language complications I tried to explain. It turns out, that a Christian terror soldier who says “L”, is also saying “Use wind, to make blood”.

The English language is weapon, so, listen carefully to those around you, especially in Oregon, where from Trinity County in California, to Salem where the state Capitol is, is all called “God’s County”, and is as close to a living hell as can be imagined, all while being so very beautiful to see.

After consideration of the “The” word, then, you need go towards the “Ology” part of “Theology”, and do some thinking. You can wind up back at “Olivia was killed, I can‘t help you”, and why there is an Olive at the bottom of the Queen‘s Martini. You could get to Oliver Twist from there, and Olive Oil, Popie’s girl friend who is forever sleeping with Brutus, or Bluto (they must be identical twins), but, Olive Oil comes in three varieties, Virgin < Extra-Virgin < and the beloved, Extra-Extra-Virgin (is very expensive). By the time the Olive Oil becomes Virgin, there is no more olive-oil left in the Olives to squeeze out, the olives are discarded after that.

It’s all part of the story of Theology and it’s evolution.

===

12-27-2020: 4:18 pm:

Someone paints a colorful scene on some terra cotta flower pots, collects some wild flowers from the woods, makes a bouquet, it goes in the pots... it’s more than gift when that person hands that to you, frightened.

It’s rocket science.

==========

12-27-2020: 6:42 pm:

This happened:

So I went over here, to see what’s going on... maybe Internet Explorer will work, but this happened:

So, I checked the “Find out why” button, and this happened:

For the federal officers, who are being jacked around by the local authorities, you need to know that the bastards stole about a thousand of my screenshots, similar to those above, yesterday when I accessed the Pose Photo Button. Some other asshole is going use some screenshots to fool you by saying they belong to Sean or Theresa, or Nicole Sparacino.

They are screenshots of advertised music gear, and Twitter news stories mostly.

Don‘t be a tetrahydronic Prism in a world controlled by Triangular Prisms, you will end up in the Trapezoidal Prism at Monroe’s terror cell.

They are spring loaded, made with stainless steel wire, and swords on garage door springs, are motion detector operated, they will tell you to “Go stand over there to get a look at the suspect”; that’s where the spring loaded snare is at, wherever the local authority tells you is best for a having a look. Victims are cut in two with just a piece of thin wire, on a spring, as they walk by, like a egg slicer.

The way the local fake authorities fool federal investigators and then kill them and their families includes that those screenshots that were stolen, (I watched the download happen, Centurylink accessed, and downloaded a lot of screenshots) can be switched out on the download, on the fly, live, from some other storage vault of kiddie porn that exists at Myers terror cell at 560 Jackpine (they have been kidnapping small girls from the nearby church for more than twenty years at 560 Jackpine and putting them into a outdoor garden shed over there) so that what actually winds up happening is the federal officers are shown those images, then later, when the federal officers are alone with some privacy, looking at porn, that is when the local fake authorities send the likes of Sean and nicole Sparacino over there, and those people are the Sneakiest Bastards On Earth, no other terror cell compares to those people for sneaky considerations.

So, literally, the Foolish Feds get caught with their pants down, and the Sparacino’s gas them. and attack, while dressed and disguised as a flock of wild turkeys.

That’s just one way. There are sooooo many ways to fool the feds when the State Police and County Sheriff are in charge of the foolery of the federal officers who are sent into traps, to come here, by their elected official leaders. The foolery comes from two ends. That is how the bastards “make ends meat” around here.

========

12-27-2020: 7:45 pm:

This for people sent to Oregon to see what the heck is going on around here:

First, you are in far more danger than you think you are.

I want to say about a phone call I received on Christmas day, from someone claiming to be family, I know there was at least one Stingray associated with the incoming call listening, I suspect there was more than one, but only one being operated by anyone who could help. Others in the hands of terror soldiers were also not only monitoring, but manipulating, participating in the call, with acting, scripted pre-arranged lines to say to fit whatever the local authority terror theme was. Also, on that call was the sounds of the terror soldiers who were hiding outside either my house, or some other house nearby, and their custom Blu-tooth style communication bleed over into the phone call I received.

I heard someone say: “I’m by the house”. That was buried with intrusive participation into the call with the so called “family member” saying that they bought a house to me on the call, introduced by the people who are fooling the federal officers who are obviously some where nearby and in contact with the local fake authorities, and is why I say you in greater danger than you know.

For those who can help, if you did not hear me saying that the terror army has taken control of all of the geographic area between the ends of the Interstate 5, from Mexico to British Columbia, then you were not listening to me, you heard someone else, you were fooled with electronics. I also talked about medical services are not available in Oregon, the doctors are fake, the police are fake, food is difficult to obtain, everyone is required to wear a face mask by State Government mandate, and other similar “I don‘t have any good news to say on this phone call” sort of subject matter. I explained about the sword fight at the end of the driveway and that fishing net that was being put there to put me into. I expressed extra distress specifying Josephine County beyond the conditions of the rest of the state being all terror controlled. If you did not hear that, you were not listening to me, you were listening to an act that was made possible by complicated electronics, actors from SAG, and terror soldiers who do whatever it takes to entertain federal officers.

It’s notable that when I get a call from that particular family member, the phone always goes blank with dead silence as I am speaking... eerie silence that is as if the call is not really happening, as if I am talking to the phone without a call connected. That silence condition has been present with that particular caller for about ten years.

I thought I heard someone say that the F-18 national Guard Fighter Jet Trainer that I bailed out of about fifteen years ago had been found in the Pacific where it fell, but that was brief and faint on the phone call, like hope, not really there.... but that airplane is in the Pacific unless someone retrieved it, and the instructions to find it are at an old Twitter account that was suspended awhile ago. There also might be instructions here on Tumblr, I have forgotten if I did put them here. Bruce Freeberg is the suspected airplane thief, I am not sure, I only know I had about less than five minutes to decide how to stop that airplane from being stolen, so, I got onto the airplane, so that I could get out of it. That way, the terror bastards don‘t get use that particular stolen airplane to kill US Citizens with.

So, you were fooled if that is different from what was heard on the incoming Christmas phone call.

===============

Let’s say that some federal investigate people were sent to Oregon from somewhere, say, Pittsburgh, and they got here to Oregon, checked in with Kate Brown representatives at State Police HQ in Salem, or, maybe at one of the five FBI Field Offices as they were instructed to do.

Where ever such persons checked in at, be it FBI Field Office or even if they just went into one of the convenience stores for some coffee, without checking in, tried to be stealth about it, either way, “they are not from around here”... it’s a Judge Thomas Hull style rule for terror soldiers to use.

The “You ain’t from around here, are ya boy?” method has a lot of sneaky parts to it. Everyone is a rank & file terror soldier here in Oregon, they look like old church people, they look like truck drivers, they look like tradesmen, and like kids on bicycles, but they are indeed all terror soldiers, most of the inhabitants of Josephine county knows the other inhabitants at least enough to identify that they are all “From around here” in a variety of ways.

There are scouts who go around in cars, and hang out in parked cars in the parking lots, the scouts use Smart Phones, everyone is supposed to have a Smart Phone, with proper setting information that will automatically make connection to the Smart Phone of the scouts. I don‘t have information about what will pass, and what gets marked. You are marked right away if you do not present a Blue-Tooth signal that is correct. Those who are marked, are followed and studied, prepared for take-out attack.

So, the federal people, simply by being here, and making a purchase, start to become the same as Red Marbles in a collection of All Green Marbles. The terror army begins right away to find out why there are Red Marbles in the collection, and from whence they came.

It would take them no more than two days to find the identity of who the outsiders are, even if they use cash to make purchase, cash is “forbidden“, so that is a Red Marble Flag. Anyone who comes to Oregon on commercial airline is marked and Identified before the airplane landed in Oregon, that is because the TSA is a agency under the parent agency Department of Homeland Security, and DHS is a major part of the terror take-over of USA. Air Traffic Controllers are also part of the DHS I think, not certain, but I do know for certain that Air Traffic Control is hijacked, part of the terror army nation wide.

There are no choices here in Oregon.

Such persons who come to Oregon would need to contact Pittsburgh at some point, but, the terror army is led by Broadcast Media, they have all of the communications locked up tighter than a bulls ass in fly season... you cannot make a phone call without it being heard by others. I doubt that even a personal satellite communication would get through unheard because the terror bastards are the people who put the satellites in orbit, and have access to the controls to them.

I am wanting to reach Pittsburgh here, on behalf of those who were sent here to Oregon. I know there are outsiders around by the way the terror cells around me are behaving, I don‘t know where they might be and would not say so if I did.

Let’s say those helpful people who were sent here are thought to have contacted Pittsburgh, and the people at Pittsburgh HQ are not concerned, all seems OK.

Don‘t do that, don’t feel like everything is OK, the terror can mimic, and they have horrible ways of making others do as they are told to do.

That scream I heard last night was different than other fake screaming that happens for “Save the Princess” where some screaming is part of the “Save the Princess”, everyone involved with those is a terror soldier, and the Princess is the one that does the kill most of the time. Anyone can “Princess”, could be a whole bus load of people who are stranded, and the bus is the “Princess”, is an attack against those who offer help. That scream was the most real terror scream I have heard in many years.

That scream is why I am going mention some detail, I don‘t want to, I need reach Pittsburgh though. If putsiders are captured, they are penned up somewhere, separated from their group. Typically, what I have seen is that the males are penned up, tortured, any females and children are forced to observe the torture. All who were captured are injected with heroin, even the ones who are tortured. they are exposed to nitrous/Versed gas mixture also. The ones who are tortured cannot feel much pain, that is part of the torture of the other people too, who observe their friends being subject to nails driven into their heads, everyone starts to say a lot of important information to the terror bastard by then. The ones subject to the nails are provided a mirror, so that they can see the nails that they cannot feel. It’s all fucked up like that. Happens at the house next to mine at 520 Jackpine, under direction of Myers terror cell next to that at 560 Jackpine. So, what made me share that is to advise those in Pittsburgh to listen very carefully to any contact that may occur. Other unseen things may be happening in the background.

There are other ways of torture to gain information. They have old world torture devices, if you can search and find it on Google search with “Torture Device” then the local terrorists made one, with a modernized twist. There was a “Rack” next door at 520 for many years, 9 feet stretch, not including arm length. I could hear when the knees pop loose, so, I get tortured too, to that extent of knowing it’s happening next door, and cannot do anything to stop it because I am outnumbered by 50,000 to 1.

I will be on the rack if I try to physically go there with my trusty fingernail clipper to fight with. You can‘t get a gun here, they are on the shelf in the case at the sporting goods stores, and are also part of the torture, because it’s right there, just out of reach, and you cannot get it, any attempt to purchase a gun, leads to:

“You ain‘t from around here, are ya boy?” and Honorable Thomas Hull will find a way to make sure you need his other service at Hull & Hull Mortuary Services, across the street from the courthouse on C Street.

Years ago, people came door to door, came into the homes, and took every thing that was sharp. Only a butter knife was allowed. Steak and chef knives all taken away. If you buy a knife sharpener, that will mark you for take-out.

Pittsburgh, don‘t rely on the communication, don‘t rely on local Oregon authorities. The good guys could be in a dire situation with no choices.

50,000 to one. Just in Josephine County, add Jackson, Douglass, and Klamath counties and it gets to 175,000 to one against me, and that is conservative estimate.

US Military is required.

Please send help.

Please send medical services.

Bring your own hospital.

====

9:39 pm:

national guard is not there anymore, they have not been there for about twenty years, any communication with Oregon national guard that suggests otherwise is a lie, is an act, to fool those who contact national guard. They can still procure new equipment and munitions as needed through the normal and customary means of getting equipment from national guard HQ command chain.

=====

12-27-2020: 9:55 pm:

Survival as a Red Marble in all Green Marbles advice:

Don’t go outside unless you need to.

For food, what I do, is difficult, but I’m not dead, so, I don‘t have other advice. Stay away from restaurants and fast food, canned food is probably safest. I choose the frozen chicken, Walmart brand, 5 lb bag, I stay mostly with that, the frozen Walmart brand vegetables are top grade, so I get that and stay alive doing it. Stay away from fresh bakery goods, packaged cookies seem OK, but they all seem to have some kind of way that is not exactly right, for me, all my teeth were shot out by the terror bastards, so, most of that is they are all too stiff, too crunchy, some seem like they make me sick in strange ways. But, I am going to have milk and cookies even if it kills me. The Walmart brand items mostly are OK, if not prepared in the store, and you have to check all of the packages for pin holes and safety seals before you buy the items.

The store is dangerous no matter where you go for food, but the Fred Meyer is more dangerous than Walmart, I have been hurt bad at Fred Meyer, seem to get out of Walmart without injury, but not without them trying to capture me. I suggest using a debit card over cash. The cash will mark you right away, the debit card has a delay to the ID of who used it, but there is that guy at the entrance with the tablet that scans for card chips in your pocket. I suggest a small metal case for carrying the debit cards. If no case, then stack as many cards as you can together to fool the scanning thing, even expired cards will help in a stack, I think. Be careful in every way.

Don’t buy fuel at AM/PM, your car won’t run, will stall, won‘t always start. Fred Meyer is best for fuel, but be prepared to physically fight, you need eyes in the back of your head, but the car will stay running if you are willing to fight for the fuel. There is no other way that I am aware of. I don‘t want to experiment at other stores, I have to learn each stores way of killing, so, learn, and defend is the best advice I have.

That is pretty much it. If you are in Oregon, and are an outsider, it’s only a matter of time before they hunt you down, so, know that too.

Personally, I don‘t go anywhere, ever, except to get some food, or go to a fake doctor, that is the scariest of all, the doctor is bad news, someone dies every time i go to the fake doctor. There are no more real doctors, all are somewhere held captive to treat terror soldiers, or worse.

Use a lighter, keep it in your hand while at the store. The terror army will come close, to gas you for a take-out at the register, so, when they get close, wave the lighter around briefly at waist high, that clears the whole aisle sometimes, nothing but abandoned shopping carts and falling ceiling tiles. The self checkout is scary, the other checkout with cashier is a place where the other terror soldiers (fake shoppers) get in line, to gas you in bulk, and the checkout lanes are lined with stuff, tall shelving that aides the gas to stay in that area in the line where you pay. If you can go to the store with a friend, that will greatly increase your survival chances, but they will try to separate you from your friend, don‘t allow that to happen. I choose the self checkout, but I did not like it at first, when they took away most of the cashiers, now, there are only about 4 cashiers aisles. sometimes only one is open.

Things are different now than they were this time last year at Walmart, so, older posts I made here may not reflect all of what I put here today.

The conditions have become gradually worse over time, this COVID situation is a nightmare, everyone mandated to wear masks as they try to kill you, and the entrance at the Walmart is reduced to just one door, one way in, one way out, and there are men who make sure you stay in the correct lane to get in or go out, they have special electronic tablet size thing, it scans debit and credit card chips while they are still in your pocket, all is cross referenced to ID data base and bank account info. There are at least 6 terror soldiers at the entrance to the Walmart, one tablet man, sometimes two of those guys, and at least one other vested person that is hanging around the entrance, and a number of Cart Jockeys who manage shopping carts there, those guys choose the cart for you, and park it right there for you, while saying “Welcome to Walmart”, there is someone there at the next entrance where actually go in to the shopping area. All of those people wear Walmart blue, some are yellow vests. That person at the actual store entrance past the shopping carts monitors, makes sure you have a mask over your face, if you have no mask, they give one to you to wear, you must wear a mask at Walmart, and everywhere, large or small stores, everywhere, by government mandate. There are signs everywhere that say so.

There is something extra special about the Walmart Pharmacy area, where over the counter remedies, shampoo, personal care items is at. The terror soldiers are like Velcro over there, they stick to you, if you go into one of those aisles, there will be instant other people that swarm there, and there seems to be always someone in each aisle, at least one, and, there is always a vested Walmart associate with a special kind of cart, has a ladder, has a place for a trash can on it, is a wheeled cart with ladder & trash can, has a shelf. The store associate is always on the ladder when I go in those aisles. There are no other places in the Walmart where I have seen those ladder/trash wheeled carts, only at the third aisle away from the actual pharmacy where prescriptions are faked. There are no real prescriptions filled at Walmart pharmacy, everyone in the line is for show. It’s all fake right there, and is higher concentration of terror soldier fake shoppers than other parts of the Walmart.

There is a cosmetics department, that area is a corral, it has four walls when you go in there. I suggest stay out of there. The hair dye and lip stick is not worth dying over.

You can still get a “Loaner Sword” if you are a special SAG terror operative at most or all of the checkout counters in the store. The cosmetics is where I see that most. They just go over to the cashier with some long narrow object, such as back scratchers that are hanging on display right near there, they take that, set it on the counter and say: “I need a loaner”, no more, and no less is spoken, perhaps a repeat of “I need a loaner”, then the cashier pulls a sword out from beneath the cabinet, lays it on the counter with the handle easy for the special SAG assassin to grab. The back scratcher is there only to fool the camera, as the sword is taken away from the check-stand, and the assassin goes to look through the store for the mark, with much assist from others in the store, and Oxcart service that follows. The people who do that tend to be very tall, well over six feet tall, male, over 50 years old, physically fit men, usually dressed with stylish comfortable leisure clothing such as cargo shorts mostly. If you look around the Grants Pass area, you can see these guys walking around on foot, older, tall men, casually dressed, in pairs. They are some kind of special mobile assassins on foot around the city, many of them scattered around, not hard to spot.

Those guys might be Vatican special assassins. They don‘t really fit the SAG vibe, and are Cookie Cutter Card Board Cut-Outs, they all look and dress the same basic way as the next one does. They are a lot like those weird women that accompany the Pope when he comes to Grants Pass, all the same, no personality, blank expression.

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12-28-2020: 12:48 am:

I put some Chip Bait in this entry, use it to catch big fish.

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12:57: am:

Those “Loaner Swords” are not limited to Walmart!

They are everywhere at a service counter in a store, pretty much all of the retail stores have at least one “Loaner Sword” for SAG or Vatican special roving assassins who need one where ever they are called to service.

To my knowledge, there is at least one “Loaner Sword” hidden inside specially designed concealment compartments at the service counter of each and every pharmacy from Mexico to British Columbia along the west coast of USA.

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12-28-2020: 3:24 am:

Still trying to reach Pittsburgh.

I can‘t sleep after telling about the torture I witnessed for long next door at 520 Jackpine.

So, there is more to know about that, some is mystery that others may find helpful about the torture rack. I saw it, it’s physically described elsewhere on this account, and there was more than one kind of torture rack. I have details about the 9 foot stretch that are significant somehow, so, as follows:

To start with, there is “Jesus was a Carpenter” considerations that I learned were of importance about it’s construction characteristics.

Then. there is some old 1960′s terror math that also seems to fit into the thing, in one way or another.

I’ll start with that: Terror in 1960′s began to remove & replace police officers with actors, and Vatican/British operatives in Los Angeles. So of course the math includes multiples of twelve for terror speak about that, so, “They come by the dozen“ is “Winchell Mahoney Time”, “Winchell’s Doughnuts”, “Windsor Royalty”, and gets into “Winston Churchill” areas of the Russian Hoax, and beyond and onto the beach at Malibu with addition of “Churchill Swim Fins w/Morey (Doyle) Boogie Board” (it goes on forever like that, could go to “dorsal fin”. “shark”, and “$5 bill” just from Doyle). So the math is 12′s for police. Those are feet. They gum on their shoes. It could turn out that the TV show called 24 is all about taking pairs of police, or, roleing out pairs of impostor police, with instructions within the episodes as marching orders. (that show was over the top, same with SAMCRO the bikers who sell arms to the Irish (Ireland is “the land of the angry people”))

now the carpenter math that is built in to the rack:

They made sure I understood it was a 9 foot max, not counting arm length.

So, most tract houses are built with 92 1/4″ studs, plus two top plate, and one mud sill, for total of additional 4 1/2″ of plate material, that grosses out to 96 3/4″, for a net wall height of 8′ 1″ after “lumber crown” of 1/4′ per 3 plates is added.

That’s for a tract house, typically 2000 sq, ft. or less.

9 feet walls happen in larger, more custom, or upscale homes.

That same math, but with use of 104 1/4″ studs, renders a wall height of 9′ 1″.

An additional foot of headroom for upscale dwellings, over a tract house of 2000 sq ft or less, is for the 9 foot ceiling height, which is what you get after the ceiling is covered with sheet rock, 9 feet.

I can see a number of religious connections to the math, but I can‘t do anything about what it seems to be saying, which seems to also go in more than one direction. Is multi-directional communication in the rack. Maybe that is the point, it pulls from two ways, like that “make ends meat” terror plan I mentioned earlier that seems to work so well.

I don’t think I have much more to say about that, without taking a three page ride in the Russian Mother of all Hoaxes by following the dots to see where they go.

I’ll go a little ways in there: That “Lumber Crown“ is actually called a “Cup”. The “Crown” is along the length of a piece of dimensional lumber, a carpenter must “Crown” every piece of lumber so that all studs, or joists, are all crowned with the lumber’s high spot going in the same direction, but I’ll leave the math the way I wrote it. The British Crown, knows all about that, they have been carpenters for a long time over there, so, they cling to ideas like that Crown. or that Cup, to do terror take over seeming simply because they are able to do so. The bastards control the whole lumber industry in Oregon, probably the whole nation. Brings new meaning to “Lumber Crown”. The “Lumber Cup” can be associated with young girls, the Holy Grail, and a lot of other religious connections to “The Cup” of a piece of lumber can be made.

Each piece of dimensional lumber has:

A Cup

A Crown

A Twist

A Bow

And Grain.

There is also wane on each piece, oddly, even if there is none there, in which case, it has no wane. Wax, on the other hand, is only on the wood if the carpenter puts it there, to make it slide across the surfaces, and into place.

All are important reasons why it’s said that “Jesus was a Carpenter”, but the truth I am pretty sure, is that the only thing the man ever built, was the cross that he was nailed to, hence, carpenter.

I’ll close out with that old TV show called “The FBI”.

From Wikipedia:

“Produced by Quinn Martin and based in part on concepts from the 1959 Warner Bros. theatrical film The FBI Story, the series was based on actual FBI cases, with fictitious main characters carrying the stories. Efrem Zimbalist, Jr. played Inspector Lewis Erskine, a widower whose wife had been killed in an ambush meant for him. Philip Abbott played Arthur Ward, assistant director to FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover. Although Hoover served as series consultant until his death in 1972, he was never seen in the series.”

Basically, the show served in some way as a “Vacuum” Hoover brand, according to Wikipedia, unless you really think J. Edgar had something to do with actually consulting.

The way I remember it, the people in The Valley where I lived dropped everything so they could watch that show. When I think about the way the people who where questioned in the series behaved at the time the investigators came by, it’s easy to see a connection to the way some of the older terror soldiers around here behave when they get around other people, they behave like they jumped right out of a 1965 FBI TV show, as if the show served as a training tool, mostly to show how to dance a move called “The Brush Off” to get rid of people who ask too many questions simply by looking and behaving “Holier Than Thou” when the police show up to ask some questions.

Lot’s of stuff at this link to think about. I wonder what IMDB.com has to say about the show.

(suddenly the links I make are working, that’s new)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_F.B.I._(TV_series)

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