#MAKING HIM QUIT VIOLIN LESSONS JUST BC HIS SISTER WAS TAKING THEM FROM THE SAME TEACHER

[sugawara--san]

you know who i would square up with?

momiji's dad

[desiree-harding]

The Phantom of the Opera but Taakitz

In which Kravitz fails pretty spectacularly at Phantoming but he’s trying very hard. Taako fails at “damsel-in-distress”-ing but to be fair he’s not really trying.

My parents were watching Phantom and my brain went taakitz because you know... spooky one and pretty one. But then I had to make it fit, and idk y’all. It’s pure silliness. Lmk if you want a kissin’ part bc if you do I have like 1/3 of that written. Thanks to @fandomsnstuff​ for encouraging me in every way to post XD

@herbgerblin >:333

*~*~*~*~*

Taako woke up not knowing where he was.

Which was, to begin with, just a massive red flag.

His head hurt. He felt heavy. And where the fuck was he? All he could see was grimy stone brick, and on them, softly flickering candlelight - and the sound of - was that water? He was having a hard time breathing - Lup’s fucking corset, he swore this was the last time she convinced him to take place in some fucking hairbrained scheme -

He shoved himself up to sitting and was immediately assaulted by a voice - 

“LUP TAACO, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE TO -”

“What the fuck?!” Taako shouted, leaping to his feet, and then the fucking skirts got tangled and then the floor underneath him tipped -

And taako was wet. He was in water, in all these fucking skirts and he was wet and Lup was going to pay for this. 

He pushed himself up again, sputtering, and thank god it wasn’t very deep, he didn’t know what he’d do if was forced to swim in this ridiculous outfit - 

The voice came again.

“MISS TAACO, YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO THIS SANCTUARY OF MUSIC TO-”

“I’M NOT LUP!!” Taako shouted desperately, just to get it to shut up, the voice that was splitting his fucking head in two, and trying to arrange the soaking wet gown into some semblance of order, and he didn’t know where he was, and he woke up here, which was just - there was something immensely wrong with that because Taako didn’t remember going to sleep.

“TO- I’m sorry?”

“I’m not Lup!!” Taako shouted again, throwing his hands up in frustration, and giving up on the stupid dress, and looking toward the direction of the candlelight, and the whoever was standing there screaming at him, and - huh.

A man, half his face obscured by a mask meant to look like a skeleton, in a suit that looked more at home at the opera (where Taako was a moment ago - or it seemed a moment) than - was this a fucking sewer? - and a full on-cloak atop that, and a fucking ridiculous hat-

As Taako’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see more of the man’s face, which was, even with the one eye obscured, contorted into an expression of confusion.

He may have registered, distantly, that he also looked rather handsome, but fuck that honestly, because Lup’s corset was cutting into his side and he was wet and - and his brain wasn’t working. He was in the opera house, and then Lup - Lup had begged him to switch clothes because please< Taako, I can’t get Grimaldis to quit following me, please, just to throw him off - and then he was going out the stage door, but he didn’t get there… he didn’t get there because-

“Did you fucking kidnap me?!” he shouted.

“I - I didn’t - you’re not Lup Taaco?”

“No!! Fucking - look at me!” he gestured to the ruined dress, the way it hung, now clearly fitting ill - “Do I look like Lup to you?!”

“Yes! Well, no, I mean, but you - but you- you’re wearing her clothes!” The man sputtered.

“And?!” Taako shouted, “you don’t fucking know me, kemosabe! I can wear whatever the hell I like!” The man, whoever he was, was standing on some kind of shore, and Taako, sick of standing in waist-deep water, started hauling up his skirts and wading toward it. “And that’s another thing! Who are you to fucking - get off kidnapping my sister?!”

“I - No!” Tuxedo Man said, stumbling back further from the shore as Taako advanced, “it’s not like that, I - I can see where you’d think, but I - I didn’t want to -”

“Didn’t want to what?!” Taako continued, finally stepping out of the water, the heavy gown dripping on the stone, so much heavier soaked like this. Taako couldn’t take it anymore. If he had to fight this motherfucker over his sister’s honor or whatever, he wasn’t going to do it in a goddamn evening gown. He started tearing at the clasps at back of it, the ties, anything to get the fucking thing off of him.

“You mistake me for my fucking sister,” he fumed, “which firstly, you’re stalking my sister, apparently, so you’re gonna fucking die - and then you -what? Fucking chloroform me and drag me to some kind of sewer sex-dungeon god knows where, what am I supposed to think?!” The outer-most layer of the gown finally came off, and Taako flung it into the water behind him because honestly fuck this.

“No!” the masked man said, shaking his head furiously, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean anything untoward!”

“I think kidnapping is pretty untoward-”

“I wasn’t going to do anything to - I don’t - it’s not a sex dungeon!” he cried, “I don’t even like her!”

“OH?!” Taako said, and god, he wished he could get the corset off, because he was really running out of breath with all the shouting - “what’s your name, thug, because I’m about to-”

“Kravitz, but - Wait! No! I - I - please don’t, I didn’t mean any harm, I was - I was just trying to give her a violin lesson!”

“Give my sister a violin lesson?” Taako growled, “She’s the goddamn concert master of the Paris Opera I think she knows how to play the violin pretty fucking well-”

“It’s just the solo in the third scene of act five!” Kravitz pleaded, actually pleaded, and Taako supposed that was a point in his favor somehow, but still, “She - she keeps - the phrasing is all wrong, and it’s the climax of the piece, and I couldn’t stand it-”

“So you were going to kidnap her?” Taako said, completely dumb with disbelief because who did this motherfucker think he was - “Who are you to give notes on her fucking performance, huh?”

“I’m the composer!” Kravitz said, throwing up his hands.

That stopped Taako in his tracks, because what? Of all the off the wall lies to get him off the hook, that’s what spooky Kravitz went with? The composer of the opera taking Paris by storm. The opera that just had its run extended another two months. And sure, sure he might as well fight the skull-mask man in the fucking - sewers, he guessed, while wearing his sister’s evening wear, the composer of her fucking opera, who wanted to kidnap her for a violin lesson in the sewer because sure! Taako’s life was already so goddamn weird, he figured this might as well happen too, why the hell not?

Maybe he didn’t wake up at all. Maybe this was all one horrible, drawn-out nightmare. Maybe he’d been hit over the head and this was his brain’s last fanciful imagining before he went out.

He buried his face in his hands, tried to breathe deeply. And then couldn’t. Because of the corset.

Ok, he thought, if this is a dream, it has to end now, because I figured it out. I’m dreaming. Time to wake up.

He counted to five and then peeked out from between his fingers. Spooky skele-man Kravitz was still looking at him. In the moment, without all the screaming, Taako managed to just get a better look at him. He was leaning back against something that looked like a manual for an organ. Weird, but then again, no weirder than the whole. Sewer-dwelling skeleton thing.

There were a few things Taako could do. He could fight the skeleton composer man, who, the more Taako looked, didn’t cut nearly as imposing of a figure as he did a moment ago. Or he could play things out.

The thing was, Taako wasn’t particularly a fighter. And Kravitz the skele-man had kidnapped him once that evening. And getting flustered when Taako shouted at him didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of taking Taako if he made good on his threats.

And Taako was tired.

Taako sighed, removed his hands from his face. Pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so tired. His head felt like someone had reached down into it and was pulling it slowly apart from each side.

“Uhm,” Kravitz said, “are you alright?”

“No,” Taako groused, and then sighed. He removed his hand. “I would love to kick your ass, darling, because no one stalks my sister and lives, but first,” he gestured to the whole… rest of his get-up. “Would you mind lending a guy a hand in getting this off? It’s fucking cold and ‘chaboy’s gettin’ real tired of not being able to take a complete breath.”

“I’m sorry?” Kravitz squeaked. His voice sounded about two octaves higher than before. His eyes, just for a moment, flickered over Taako’s body, panicked, and - well. That was interesting, wasn’t it.

“The clothes, Kravitz,” Taako said, purposely evoking his name. “Please? I’m wet as all hell and fucking freezing, and if I’m gonna throw you in this water and drown you or something I’d like to at least have a decent range of mobility so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Um,” Kravitz said, “Please don’t drown me?”

“Gimme that cloak to wear and we’ll see,” Taako said back. Fuck, his head hurt. He was too tired for this.

“I can - I can actually do you one better, if you need me to. I have um…. men’s clothing around the corner if you’d prefer-”

“Fucking fantastic, skeletor, just get a move on.”

“Oh. Alright then, um. Follow me?”

And Taako did. Kravitz pushed himself off the organ and moved to his left, and sure enough, there was something like a corner, and a sort of tunnel, lower-ceilinged, and in it was - well, practically an entire apartment’s worth of furniture, all arranged just-so, with candles perched all about on tables and sconces on the walls. The place was drafty but all the same, it looked quite like Kravitz had made it into a perverted imitation of a home.

Beside the frankly absurd number of candles, and the lakeside organ, there was a series of screens, separating out the space where walls did not. Rugs, slightly tattered and faded. Old brocade armchairs that didn’t match. A desk, ink and pen sitting atop it with scattered papers, and, in the last “chamber” of the long, successive home, a bed and chests in something that looked quite almost like a bedroom.

Kravitz turned around and regarded Taako with a fair measure of confusion as though unsure exaclty what to do next, but after a moment, he fumbled with his gloved hands around his neckline, until he was able to untie the cloak from around his shoulders. He thrust it toward Taako, quite sheepish-looking now behind his half-mask. 

“Here,” he said. “You can um… use it to cover up, while I - find you some clothes.”

“Corset first, bones,” Taako said, only just in a small part to watch him squirm. Sex-dungeon indeed. Taako was feeling out the boundaries of the conversation and Kravitz was bashful, of all things. Probably not kidnapping Lup for - well. Probably not that then. Maybe the violin lesson wasn’t an excuse after all.

Taako was beginning to think Kravitz was… well. For lack of a better term, somewhat pathetic. Maybe just insane.

Still, he’d do. All Taako needed was an extra pair of hands. He turned around, back to Kravitz and facing one of the screens. “Help me outta this. I’m not used to the lacing and I need some more eyes. Might have to take the gloves off though. Dexterity, and all that.” That he did say to be mean.

“Oh. Um, yes of course,” Kravitz said, and Taako felt as much as heard him walk up to his back, closer than he’d yet been. Taako felt his hands pulling at the lacing of the corset, felt something come undone, and the constriction lesson by degrees. He pulled in a deep breath. It was heavenly.

For a moment, something frigid brushed against Taako’s back, and he jumped. “Christ!” Kravitz withdrew; Taako could feel that sixth sense of proximity dissipate.

“Sorry,” Kravitz said. “Poor circulation.” His voice was so much softer than before. Something in Taako’s chest twisted at the sound of it. “You should… you should be able to remove the rest of it, now. I can- I’ll get you some clothes. Oh, um.” There was a moment of hesitation from behind him, then he felt the weight of something thick and soft drape over his shoulders, felt Kravitz withdraw again. The cloak. He’d draped it over Taako’s shoulders. It was surprisingly soft. Heavy, too. Warm. Probably did him some good down here.

“There, you can - I’ll get you something to change into.”

Taako felt strangely hot. He busied himself pulling the rest of Lup’s clothes off of him, shivering as they hit the floor with wet slaps. Good god, it really was cold in Kravitz’s - dungeon… or whatever. Even with the many candle flames all around. Removing the corset was a blessing, though. Taako drew in several deep luxurious breaths, pausing in his undressing to stretch. He could hear Kravitz rummaging around in the trunks and chests behind him.

And the rummaging stopped.

“I’m just going to uh… leave these on the bed?” Kravitz’s voice came, “I’ll. I’ll leave you to it,” and he slipped out between a couple of screens, and Taako was alone in his… in his bedroom. In the bedroom of a mysterious masked man who somehow knocked Taako out, dragged him to god only knew where, shouted at him for being Lup and then seemed, inexplicably, very apologetic the moment Taako called him on it.

He supposed stranger things had happened to him in his life. 

Then he thought again, and no, they hadn’t.

It was almost disconcertingly silent on the other side of the screen. Taako wrapped the cloak around himself properly, stepping out of the last of Lup’s clothes, and left them in a heap on the floor as he turned around and moved to the bed. He dressed quickly (Kravitz’s clothes weren’t a perfect fit but they worked well enough), draped the cloak around his shoulders to keep out the persistent chill in the air, and stepped out from the screen. Kravitz was standing in the middle of what looked like his sitting room, as though he was waiting for Taako.

Taako crossed his arms. 

Kravitz began to speak. 

“Mister Taaco,” he said, “you have come to know too much of my domain. I cannot allow-”

“So,” Taako interrupted him, “Are we gonna throw down or what? I promised you an ass-kicking on account of defending my sister’s honor and all.”

Kravitz paused, and Taako could practically feel the frustration coming off of him. “I shall not be taking orders -”

“What happened to your voice?” Taako asked, cutting him off again, because god, what was he doing? “Is that a Cockney accent? What are you going for here?”

“This is how I speak-”

“My dude, we literally had a conversation without you going all Charles Dickens on me like not five minutes ago-”

“Could you let me finish?!” Kravitz finally snapped, accentless once more. “For once?! Please?!”, and Taako just waited, and watched as Kravitz realized what he’d done, as his whole schtick disintegrated before his eyes. “Oh goddamnit all,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat.

Taako couldn’t help but smile. 

“Really nailing it on the whole spooky sinister vibe, my fella,” he said. “Really knocking it out of the park on that one.”

One hand came up to cover Kravitz’s face, laying over his half mask and eyes. Almost like pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t usually go like this,” he sighed.

“How do the kidnappings usually go?” Taako teased. And god, what was he doing? He needed to get out of here. It was just that -

“I’m really more adept at hauntings,” his host said forlornly. “The abduction angle is new.”

It was just that everything Kravitz said was stranger, more unexpected, more absurd, more interesting than the last. And… strangely funny. It caught strange corners of Taako’s brain and captured his attention, raising flags and illuminating pathways that he wanted to go down-

But that didn’t mean he wanted to stay. In the dank candlelit sewer, with Kravitz, who, while it was clear he wasn’t a very skilled kidnapper and - whatever his thing was supposed to be here - had still been good enough to get Taako in the first place. And, atop that, was a person who’d just admitted to kidnapping Taako. And who seemed not to be terribly… thrown by the thought of it. Taako didn’t know anyone - well, until now - who seemed to view unwilling abduction as a done thing. No one Taako knew really considered that socially acceptable.

It reminded him that Kravitz, while… intriguing, was by no means safe.

It reminded him that he still needed to get the hell out of there. 

“Well,” he started, “the whole production could use some work, kemosabe. Points for the aesthetic,” he gestures vaguely to Kravitz’s getup, and the whole… opulent sewer situation, “but really, Taako’s rating this one a ‘room for improvement’ situation. Nice try, though, points for effort,” he cast his eyes around as he rambled, trying to see if there were any visible exits, but the only way he could see was back the way he came in - through Kravitz’s “house” - past Kravitz. 

Nothing for it but to try, he thought. 

“Thanks a bunch,” he said, inching forward, “glad to be of assistance workshopping - well, no, not glad, really - but I uh… I’m going to need to be on my way.” He stepped forward, purposeful. Kravitz countered, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. Shit.

“I am terribly sorry,” he said, and the thing was he actually sounded it, “but I really can’t let you do that.”

[asocier]

interaction guide for emile! 

last edited: april 6th, 2021

          emile ... my sweet baby boy. he’s an extremely friendly muse all around, and while he seems like he’d crumple at the first sign of danger, emile has surprisingly good fight or flight instincts. there’s a part of him that can work well under pressure, so when the world literally is on fire, emile will unexpectedly take charge and call the shots. of course, that’s when the pressure is really on — for the most part, emile is extremely non-confrontational and is perpetually stuck in a loop of ‘what am i doing with my life?’ as he wakes up everyday to a job he doesn’t care for. he makes the best of things, however, and finds pleasure in the simple things. he especially loves being out in nature, so that’s where he’ll truly be himself. in terms of his love life, he’s trying — that’s all i can really say on the matter. he’d be a good boyfriend, though, once things get serious; my sources have confirmed this. 

          supernatural plots — boy howdy, does emile befriend supernatural beings easily! i’m not sure what it is, but he really has a history of forming meaningful relationships with those who aren’t human, and it might just stem from the fact he thinks they’re incredibly interesting so long as, you know, they aren’t trying to kill him. so throw your magical girls, your aliens, your monsters, your non-human muses at emile because boy howdy is he down for the shenanigans and the adventure that comes alone with befriending these muses. he will absolutely literally be so fascinated by them and not give them grief if they’re nice to him !!! if they try to kill him, boy howdy will he be ready to run for his life because emile is already scared of everything and now he gotta run to save his ass. 

          family friendly wholesome plots — emile + children is literally one of the best things on this blog. i say this for like two other muses on this blog too but c’mon, emile and kids literally get along so well, how could i not suggest this possibility too in an interaction guide for him? he’s one of best babysitters and would love to interact with young muses, even if they aren’t small children but still quite young. even tween/teenagers might get along with him ( though if they’re going through some angst, he’s gonna be ... a lil awkward )

          nature/camping/plant plots — i mentioned that emile loves being out in nature, and this has long been the case since he was young. i make fun of him by saying he’s like an overgrown boy scout just because he has so much knowledge about the outdoors and camping from years of doing things like hiking. he also has a green thumb; really loves himself a nice plant. so here are some plots where your muse: 

needs a camping/hiking buddy and invites emile ( pre-est relationship most likely )

meets emile at a campsite ( first meeting type of plot ! )

is a camp counselor at a summer camp and emile is your co-counselor/head counselor and yall gotta take care of all these fking kids together for a whole summer 

works at a plant nursery/floral shop and they always see emile come in bc he hoards plants and loves to buy fresh cut flowers, either for himself or his sister, alison bc she loves flowers too 

just ... talks to emile about his plants casually or asks him for advice on why their plant isn’t doing so well 

needs a new trail mix/energy bar recipe and asks emile ( a neighbor? a friend? someone who is also looking at recipe books in a book store? ) if he has any

          art/photography/music plots — like his sister, emile dabbles in a lot of hobbies too and he shares a lot of those with alison. the biggest differences lie in the fact that while alison favors watercolor painting or body art with acrylics, emile prefers sketching with paper/pen and paper. similarly, while alison mainly plays the piano, emile plays the violin. photography is something both siblings share, though emile likes to take pictures of landscaping in addition to portraits. here are some plots where your muse:

needs a photographer for their *insert special event here* and hires emile 

needs a violinist for their *insert fancy event here that requires live music* and hire emile

asks emile for violin lessons 

wants to play pictionary with emile and that’s how they learn that emile can draw really well

          “what even is emile’s romantic life” plots —  my boy really tries to fall in love, okay. he tries, but it’s not that easy for him when you take into account how he’s not really out of the closet to a lot of people in his life and how he generally just has terribly luck with romantic relationships in general. this started back in high school, and it really doesn’t do much for his self esteem when it come to dating. it kind of puts dating on the back burner for him, really, especially since he isn’t in the best place in his life at the moment to find a serious relationship, but he still likes to try and go on dates once in a while, and he’s trying to learn to embrace the fact he isn’t straight. so here are some plots where your muse: 

bothers emile a lot about why he doesn’t have a girlfriend and plays matchmaker/tries to teach him how to talk to girls because that’s what you think the problem is 

gets set up on a blind date with emile and it either goes really well, or it goes really badly. plot twist: you two used to know each other somehow ( high school, community college, work before one of yall left the office, camp a while back, ect ). 

plays a supportive role in helping emile discover his sexuality ( can be in high school or afterwards ). your muse can either be super helpful or super intrusive and it makes emile suffer but, you know, your muse has good intentions. this “help” can be your muse sharing their experiences with emile, taking him out to lgtbq+ spaces to help him embrace this side of his identity, assuring emile that it’s not wrong to like the same sex, ect. they could also just take a balls to the wall crazy approach if that’s more their style, up to your tbh

          miscellaneous plots — here are some more random ideas in case you’re feeling stuck still! i’d like to remind everyone that my wishlist tag is always a great place to look too if you aren’t feeling what’s in the guide. i hope that the guide gives you an idea at least as to how you might approach a muse and what plots work well for them!

your muse offers to find emile a better job because they can tell he’s not loving his current job, so they offer him a helping hand. similarly, your muse offers to help emile go back to school because they wants to see emile succeed and be happy doing something in a field he actually cares about.  

office plots — your muse works at the same law firm as emile and shares an office space with him. please talk to him because emile needs a friend at work to make his job more enjoyable :’) 

high school plots — emile does have a high school verse like most of my other muses do. the bulk of what happens in high school involves emile discovering he’s not straight and being bullied for it for nate and cedric. on top of that, he’s witnessing his sister go through a really bad relationship, but with how secretive she is with things, it’s hard for him to intervene. there’s a lot of avenue for serious plots in this verse, but as with alison, lighthearted high school plots can also happen with emile! teenagers aren’t just full of angst, after all. sometimes we just need some shenanigans.

community college plots — instead of university, emile attends community college for a couple years to obtain his associates so that he can work as a legal assistant. he works odd jobs to keep himself afloat, and for the most part, he’s just vibing. 

werewolf verse plots —a post explaining the basics of this verse can be found here! in this verse, emile is considered a beta and spent his whole life practically raising his sister, alison. growing up, the siblings did not belong to a stable pack, and as such, they pretty much spent most of their life kind of living how they wanted. emile in this verse is just vibing, too. he’s not looking for a mate or for drama, he’s just trying to make sure his sister doesn’t get herself into trouble.           i’d like to re-emphasize that this is not a true omegaverse even though i do categorize muses as alphas, omegas, or betas, mention bonding between werewolves, nesting, heat/rut, and the use of suppressants to control the severity of heat. the description of these topics, however, are very tame as the focus of this verse is not unhealthy power imbalances or plotless smut. this verse exists bc werewolves are cool, and also because the idea of bonding between partners is where i find the most interest since true bonding really embodies the “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death” sentiment in marriage vows except even to a more serious degree. so yeah — werewolves. have your werewolf meet mine. it’ll be fun. 

[vegalocity]

Here’s a gift to @thestarfan18 that’s not really a gift bc i’m also posting it for Selfish reasons.

Some of my best fics and ideas are made from plot bunnies that are more along the lines of ‘intrusive thoughts but with themes’ so this has been playing out in my head for the past few days and I thought ‘eh, might as well write it’ so it would leave me alone.

So happy Unbirthday Valentina! May your beard grow ever longer and your story grow ever more complex! (also sorry if the plot implications are super dumb, I have no idea if James even HAS a master plan beyond ‘1:kill halley 2:take throne 3:??? 4:profit)

The ground was cracked beneath Philharmonic Butterfly. His shoes were in near tatters, his chest and arms littered with cuts and bruises. His left eye was starting to swell, his cloud blue hair was singed at the tips. The cut on the back of his right hand—his bow hand if he couldn't hold a bow anymore how could he continue his lessons?—was deep enough he could see the sickly yellow-white of bone peaking out if he cared enough to look. And frankly the white hot pain that almost made him want to lop his whole hand off didn't make him want to look at all.

The flames that he had summoned without thought—inevitably stopping the eldritch entities his brother and great-aunt had summoned because nobody had known he could do it. Even him—had died down, the rocks that had been cracked both by his flames and Halley's magic had been charred to smoldering coals.

His hand was almost ripped open entirely, but his legs felt relatively okay, so he shakily got to his feet, ripping half the left sleeve off his shirt in the process for an impromptu bandage. His hand felt like it had the time he'd tried to fire lightning from the wand—well, the beautiful violin that was the wand when he held it—and it had bounced back on him. He used his teeth to tear the offending sleeve in half again, this time lengthwise. He hastily began to bind his hand, a little more strenuous than he had hoped granted he wasn't left-handed. But he was able to make sure the tendons were in the right places and wrapped his hand to ensure no further blood would make its way out, nor bone breaking. Phil considered himself rather enduring at that. A lesser man would have passed out under such pain.

And he only dropped to his knees to throw up from the pain after he was done so he considered that a success!

But that was the worst of his injuries, and now that he could actually gather himself enough to take in the rest of the world, he staggered back to his feet again to try and see out of the crater he'd fallen in.

If he'd seen correctly before everything went to hell, Great-Aunt Etheria had been swallowed with the portal, If he was in less pain he'd be a little more sympathetic to the idea of a family member being devoured by monstrosities not meant to be seen by mortal eyes; but he was in a lot of pain so he spat to the ground at the thought—a trace of blood in the spit from his bitten tongue—and thought bitterly to himself that the old hag deserved what she got.

Scanning around he was finally able to spot his sister. Her peach colored hair frizzy at the ends from the overload of magic that she'd let out with him to close the gateway. He couldn't see much more of her from his spot, other than the tip of one of her horns might have been cracked. Her wings had slid back to their smaller size no doubt, hidden by her hair, and the rest of her he couldn't quite make out from his spot.

Climbing from a crater with a hand that was maybe one cut away from massive muscular damage, heavy bruising up and down his body, and slowly loosing all sight in his left eye... well it was a little taxing. He nearly threw up from pain again when a block of cobblestone fell from it's tenuous spot and rammed heavily against his right hand on its way down. But all the same he didn't stop and wait to be helped out.

Halley was hurt more than he was, no one was coming for him if he waited at the bottom of this damned crater. And more importantly really, His sister was hurt and she needed him. Phil grit his teeth and finally—finally—he forced his left forearm to the top of the crater, pulling his upper body up with him.

He remembered how Halley went down, he'd just fallen into the crater the both of them had made when they’d closed the gateway, he'd been able to see the gateway closing almost perfectly. The hit to his head made him too dizzy to stand, let alone fight, but he watched their Great-Aunt be ensnared by something that looked like one of the aliens of Uncle Marco's Earth Movies. One of the alien creatures wasn't going back in without a fight and started shooting out its weird black appendages, trying to grab one of them. Phil had been just far enough away to avoid getting snapped up as well, but his brother had been less than lucky. James had gone full Butterfly, but his sword had been shaken from his hands so he had been relying on his magic alone.

And if what Phil and Halley had proven before, no single magic user was enough to make a match against these things. But then again, when had James ever thought himself as anything but better than the both of them at everything?

Halley had come to his rescue, she'd helped free him.

And when the creature spewed out some foul looking liquid, Halley—for some ungodly reason—pushed James out of the way, taking the hit to her side. Her scream was so loud the creature cringing inward from the noise had been enough to shut the portal entirely. Halley fell. He knew she wasn't dead, she couldn't be dead. But he needed to be there for her all the same.

His feet caught onto a stone that gave him enough momentum to push himself the rest of the way out of the crater (he really needed to do more pushups, his upper body strength was pathetic compared to his siblings) and began to shamble his way to his sister.

Halley was crumpled on the ground, she hadn't moved since she fell, and his gut dropped, but also for the fact that James hadn't left the two of them for dead.

His brother was hunched over his Sister and the light tingle on his cheeks as his marks turned to a pair of sharps was completely eclipsed by the hot rage that began to boil in his chest. He wasn't sure if he could run, but he could at least try.

“Get away from her!”

Well, it was more galloping, his left leg was a little stiffer than he'd hoped it would be. So he took a moment to stoop down and pick up a rock. James looked up at him and Phil took aim. His right hand throbbed as he gripped the stone harder, the pain spiked as he flung it forward, releasing the rock. But despite the pain his aim was true. The rock soared through the air and some how, for some reason, James' reflexes didn't kick in to catch or block it. He flinched away as the rock grazed his cheek, a small bead of blood cutting into his relatively unharmed flesh.

Phil was able to close the gap in that time thankfully, and gave a hard push to his older brother to get him away and crouch infront of Halley.

The left side of her face glowed with a sickly yellow magic, spreading like poison through the veins across her face. Her left cheek flower had turned a sickly greenish yellow and while she was breathing, it was a strained, shallow thing. Her chest rattling every so often in pain.

He shifted Halley a bit, wriggling his arm under her shoulders to pull her up a bit. Her head lolled back, mouth opening a bit at the weight shift but otherwise unchanged.

“Halley!” she didn't respond to him, he knew she probably wouldn't until he got her to their mother. Mom would fix this. He knew mom would fix this.

“Hold on Halley, You'll be okay.” He promised her quietly, he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye.

He glanced up, expecting to see Halley and himself alone in the wreckage, James fleeing the scene with the Wand in tow, But somehow, he wasn't.

James was actually getting closer to the two of them, the Wand—turned into the sword form he favored—still clutched in his hand from when he no doubt stole it from Halley's prone form, but he didn't look the least like he was about to leave. Or even that he was about to shove Phil away to finish the job.

No...he was looking at Halley as though she'd been replaced with a someone he didn't actively despise, dark brows raised high and face slack in shock.

“Is she.. dying?” he finally said, voice just barely over a whisper. “I couldn't... I didn't know what to check...” Phil clenched his jaw and held out his free hand.

“She'll be fine. Give me the wand, I need to get her home.” James' other hand went up to the grip of the sword and Phil looked him dead in the eye then. He felt a stringing in the corners of his eyes, and he hoped beyond all hope just a spark of Dad's rage face shone through onto him.

“James.” he stated calmly, but firmly. “Call me paranoid, but granted you just opened a gateway to hungry elder abominations, I feel like I can't trust you with the Family Magic Wand at the moment.” he made a grabby motion with his fingers and finally James relented, placing the sword in Phil's waiting hand. With a small shower of blue sparks it became the ornate violin that marked it as his.

He looked down at the violin, then at Halley. He needed two hands to play it, and his bow hand was injured. But Halley sure as heck couldn't prop herself up under her own power. He pinched his lips into a fine line and with a flourish the violin condensed into a small conductor's baton, the only hint at its magical properties being the family crystal, a deep blue gem affixed to the pommel. He slid the baton into his belt loop and then used his now free hand to prop Halley up from under her knees.

His muscles screamed in protest as he began to lift, the bruises up his torso throbbed and the cuts along his arms and chest threatened to open again, but no pain was worse than the one in his hand. Halley's head lolled and the infected side of her body pressed against him, but the weight and the grip sent sparks of agony up his whole arm. He'd probably have some kind of nerve damage in that hand after all this, wouldn't he?

James made a half-aborted motion towards them, as if he was about to try and help Phil carry their sister. He snorted to himself at the thought. Halley hung limply in his arms and just taking the first few steps his arms trembled and threatened to give in.

James stayed where he stood. Eyes on Halley and incomprehensible expression on his face. No doubt he was wondering how easy it would be to knock him out and kill Halley while he still had the chance.

Well Phil wasn't about to let that happen.

He shifted Halley in his arms, she looked so fragile, her skin starting to pale, the large bruise on the side of her face that wasn't infected with... whatever this was... was purple and bordering on a welt. His heart dropped at her stillness, his vision blurred for a second before clearing up.

“You know...” He found himself saying “All I ever wanted was for you two to stop fighting. I just wanted us to be happy. I never wanted to take sides in your stupid fights because I hated them in the first place.” he gripped Halley a little tighter as he began to walk. He couldn't hear the rubble disturbing behind him, James wasn't following them.“But the truth is she's always been too good to even compare to you.”

Some how, there was some motion beneath him at that. Halley groaned lightly and began to crack her eyes open. Well, not all of her eyes. Her right and center eyes looked no more than a little clouded from concussion, but her left eye, the one closest to the green infection, remained closed.

“Phil...?” She croaked out. “What's goin'....?”

“You're alright Halley.” He responded. “We're going home, we won.” She tilted her head in response, as though trying to look around him.

“Is... James..” she paused to take a rattling breath. “Is he okay?”

Phil grit his teeth. “He's just fine. We're all just fine.”

“Oh... okay.” Halley smiled weakly. “That's good.”

His cheek marks didn't change back, even as he smiled and kissed his sister's forehead, just above her center eye. 

He was furious

And he planned to stay that way.

James didn't understand. He couldn't understand. He'd done everything right! He'd made his alliances, they'd set up their plan, they'd EXECUTED their plan, and his stupid sister had been right there for eldritch chowtime.

Phil had come too, but he could be avoided easily, after all James had no qualms with his brother beyond Phil being a little too spineless at times.

But the stupid little demon had been able to stop the portal. And killed their Great-Aunt in the process! Forget calling him Heirslayer, Halley was a Kinslayer! Wasn't that enough to get her off the throne?

He hadn't needed her help. He might not have had the wand on him, but he was still the most powerful of the three of them, he could have gotten the tendril monster to let him go without her. He didn't need her help, and he told her so repeatedly when she kept insisting on scratching and blasting at the thing holding on to him.

But then...

Then she said the thing he didn't understand.

“You may not value my life, but I still value yours!”

He thought she was happy to be heir, that she loved that she'd snatched the throne right out from under him. Every argument that had to him always just sounded like the little demon being childish and wanting to rub her victory in his face... he thought she was as excited about becoming queen as he was determined to not let a freak on the throne.

She hadn't even hesitated to push him out of the way when the creature spat out that disgusting liquid.

She lay crumpled beneath him and he could have easily put his hands around her neck and squeezed until she stopped that raspy attempt at breathing. It could have been over, he could have won before Philharmonic got in the way like an absolute tool.

So why didn't he? He'd just been leaning over her indecisively for what must have been minutes. And then he let Phil's stupid little rock hit him. The small little spike of pain that pricked his cheek had barely even processed in comparison to the sheer fury on his little brother's face. He'd never seen Phil so angry.

He looked a lot like dad when he was angry.

“You may not value my life, but I still value yours!”

Those words were... more difficult to parse out than he expected. It went against everything he knew about Halley... or maybe thought he knew.

Maybe he didn't know anything about her at all.

Phil walked off, Halley, probably dying a little bit, waking up only briefly before passing back out, James took a seat in the rubble and rested his chin on folded arms.

He needed to think.

[earthobservingsystem]

Sherlock Four

It’s a strange day at the office when one moment Paul Weller is sitting next to you, dressed as a Viking and the next you’re playing the violin in a mental asylum opposite Benedict Cumberbatch. Strange, but brilliant.

I had bumped into Mark Gatiss months earlier whilst walking the dogs, and he had gleefully forewarned me that season four, episode three would involve a LOT of violining. He wasn’t wrong. I mean he wouldn’t be - he should know.

A few weeks passed and a voice message came up on my phone. BC. Benedict. He had left a lovely message, asking after my wellbeing, my family and whether I’d be able to coach him in Ealing today. On the set of Doctor Strange. I like to think I played it cool, and I’m going to keep telling myself that. I was out with the dogs at the time. I should point out that I had been home in between these events, I don’t just wander the local parks, hoping for some work on Sherlock, (although that tactic has proved quite fruitful of late). Time was of the essence so I skipped home, swapped the dogs for my violin and headed to Ealing, in my muddy paw mark adorned jeans. Yeah. Super cool and not at all like a swamp creature.

Benedict needed to learn three pieces, one of which wasn’t yet written. He swished off set and called me into his dressing room to recap on all things violin. “Don’t touch the beard!” pleaded his makeup artist, “he’s back on set any minute”. His hands were covered in scars, which he insisted they sprayed with fixative away from me, what a gent. We just got started and he was called back on set. He offered me his dressing room while he was on set and to make myself at home. Tilda Swinton appeared In the doorway asking if I knew where Benedict was. This is always happening to me at home. Over the next few hours of grabbed moments, as well as in Cardiff on the set of Sherlock, and once at his house, we managed to work out 1) what he needed to play 2) that there was one hell of a lot to play and memorise whilst also delivering lines in some intensely emotionally charged scenes and 3)that he is a perfectionist and holds himself to the highest standards at all times.

But we knew #3 already.

Meanwhile David Arnold had met up with Ben Caron, the director to discuss the best way to approach the filming of this sequence. It would take some doing but it could be done.

I was coaching Benedict in his Sherlock trailer, with Ben Caron and David Arnold. We tried out timings to see how to fit the music with the dialogue to make sure we hit the right point in the music at the right time for the script.

For the first time on Sherlock there were to be two people playing the violin. Sherlock, and his sister, Eurus.

I was called by the lovely Siân Brooke, for some coaching at RADA. Benedict and Siân were both equally trepidatious of the huge task ahead of them, and concerned to find out how the other one was faring. Siân had played the cello on a film before, so had some experience of playing a stringed instrument.

Despite Benedict and Siân being exceptionally fast learners, coaching was hard at first because the final big duet hadn’t yet been written- this scene was scheduled to be filmed near the beginning of the whole shoot, so David Arnold and Michael Price, the composers on Sherlock had only just discovered they needed to write this epic duet at the same time as I was meant to be coaching. But there was a lot to be done anyway- recapping on stance and how to hold the bow, what angle to hold the arms and wrists etc. As with previous screen coaching, I’d say it’s 70% choreography, 30% actual playing and 10% bad maths.

Once the duet was written I picked some small ‘key’ passages of the music for them to learn. Learning the whole duet as well as the other two themes, ‘Irene’s theme’ and ‘Eurus’s Theme’ would be a huge ask, what with having to learn the violin from scratch and everything. I recorded video clips for both Siân and Benedict to help them practice in between lessons. Because they had LOADS of time to do that. (None).

The final scene of the series was to be a 360 shot of the two duetting together, tentatively at first, in a question and answer conversation of sorts, then beginning to build. It’s a beautiful piece of music, perfectly conveying all the shifting emotions of the series, gathering strength until the full orchestra joins for the rousing Sherlock Theme

Filming

The atmosphere around the sets was very warm and familial, people bringing in kids and swapping baby photos, handing around biscuits, that sort of thing.

But when I was taken onto the actual set for the first time, Eurus’s cell- I felt a cold shudder. That Arwel Wyn Jones certainly knows how to design a set. All cold, grey surfaces, no windows or door handles and 360 degree security cameras really created a chilling atmosphere. I was fitted with a radio in-ear monitor so that I could hear the cues from Ben, the director.

The first thing to to be filmed was Sherlock’s reaction to Eurus’s playing. Benedict asked that I play the theme there live in order to help him cry. Sweet revenge for last time when he made me cry: previously on A Scandal in Belgravia, his tearing up when playing Irene’s theme had made me tear up - which was good because the alternative would be bricking myself. I could get quite nervous in these situations - there are a LOT of people involved on set, and they all fall silent before the director calls “set, and… action” - but he is an utterly captivating actor, he draws you in so that everything else drops away. You forget yourself and all that’s left is the moment. Ben Caron helped create this warm atmosphere on set, by being incredibly calm and friendly whilst being clear about what he wanted. I was grateful given the pressure everyone was under that he wasn’t one for barking orders or steamrollering anyone. When I didn’t know what a particular visual cue was (I didn’t have a script- but there’s a scene in Eurus’s cell when Sherlock enters for the first time. She is playing a tune- Sherlock steps forward, the lights change, Eurus plays angrily, he steps back and she resumes playing the tune) Ben patiently and calmly explained those cues and we carried on- it felt like no biggy despite the massive time constraints he was under. It makes for a good working atmosphere and I’m sure it means that things get done more quickly and to a higher standard because people aren’t loaded with any unnecessary extra stress.

We all rushed off with an early end that day because Wales was playing Belgium in the quarter finals. We won 3-1 and there was rainbow over Cardiff (my second favourite type of bow.)

On the second day we were shooting close-ups for the big duet. Depending on the shot, Either Sherlock or Eurus would play the theme alone, following my movements. The final day of violining was the final duet scene again in 360, but this time they were filming full-length shots. The biggy. After all the planning and rehearsals and coaching and memorising and camera rehearsals this was it. I’d play in the eyeline of Sherlock and Eurus, because I had the track in my in-ear monitor, so they could keep in time with that. As the camera spun through its 360 movement I sometimes had to move to avoid being in shot. To their huge credit- and despite the considerable stress of the task, let alone of the scenes and plot line and all the acting- they were so patient and diligent and just totally on it. Of the violin scenes- this was the one everyone was most worried about. Once it was in the can, cheers and whoops were let out (but in a Welsh way, ŴP! ) Benedict and Siân had done an amazing job. The cast and crew then erupted into a big chorus of Happy Birthday for Ben Caron’s 40th. The relief. And the cake. He said that successfully completing that scene was the best birthday present he could have hoped for.

Recording the music

Once all the filming and editing is completed- the music is recorded. We knew we’d need someone other than me to record Eurus’s violin parts to the picture, as she had a Stradivarius and had taught Sherlock how to play, so their sounds would naturally be quite different from one another. I knew that my long time band-mate, Tania Davis would be perfect, so David Arnold asked her and she gladly accepted. Tania and I have been playing together for 17 years *cough* ( www.bondquartet.com ) and we have a natural rapport. She is a stunning player and has a beautiful violin too. Set up with two music stands and a screen in our own little space ship in Air Studios, we were set to record to the picture. We do this for a clean recording with no distracting, or unwanted background noises and because during the edit things can change synch and be slightly out of time with the picture. For example they might choose a shot because the actor’s performance is the perfect one- but the violin isn’t quite in time. Indeed, a childhood folk song was added after filming had ended, which we had to match to existing shots of a different theme being played. All fun and games!

We ended the afternoon on the first take of the duet, when Tania’s E string broke on the final chord - which spookily was the initial promo picture for this episode. It was obviously meant to be!