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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 15: Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding his travels back in time through the domain of the Spiral.

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

(drained and weak) Let me…go grab a recorder.

MARTIN

Do you really need one?

ARCHIVIST

It would make me feel better about the whole thing. Makes it feel…

MARTIN

Real?

ARCHIVIST

…Important. It is important. To me. Even if…it doesn’t think so.

SASHA

Wait, do you hear something?

PAST ARCHIVIST

…Yes. Like a-a whirring sound?

TIM

Oh, goddammit.

[SOUND OF A TAPE RECORDER BEING SET DOWN ON A LEVEL SURFACE]

MARTIN

(heh) Guess it thinks it’s important, too.

ARCHIVIST

I guess so.

…

MARTIN

Are you gonna say it?

ARCHIVIST

Do you want me to?

MARTIN

I-I mean, I think you have to? If it’s recording…you have to do it the right way or it doesn’t…count. Right?

ARCHIVIST

…Right. You’re right.

Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding…his travels back in time through the domain of the Spiral. Recorded direct from subject, fourth May, 2016. Statement begins.

MARTIN (STATEMENT)

I think the first thing that struck me was the décor.

Silly, isn’t it? To think that the domain of something that literally thrives on disorientation and chaos would be remotely like I expected it to be? But I did, somehow. There were all the descriptions in all the statements we’ve heard, and then the time Tim and I were trapped in those halls, and I...I really thought they would still look like that.

But they didn’t. There was no patterned wallpaper, no carpet runner, no mirrors or photographs or anything like that. The walls were painted, and they were painted in—in jellybean colors. It’s the best way I can describe it. Really, really bright colors, gloss paint. The floors were...tiled, maybe? Linoleum? I wasn’t quite sure, but they were brightly-colored and kind of shiny, too. Even the ceiling. But none of them matched. When I first stepped through the door, I was standing in the hallway and the wall in front of me was a yellow so bright it almost hurt my eyes, but the floor was red, the same color as Melanie’s nail polish, and the ceiling was a really vibrant green. It was like standing in the middle of a traffic light.

I heard the door close behind me and sort of figured I was alone, but when I turned around, there was the Keeper, and he was taking something out of the door. I think it might have been a key? He put…whatever it was in his pocket and turned to me. I asked him which way to go.

“It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid,” he told me. “These halls don’t look the same to us. Just start walking. I’ll meet you when you get to the way out.”

And then he was just...gone. It wasn’t like he walked away, or went through a door or whatever. He was just…gone. Like, well, like he faded into fog.

So I started walking. I thought, well, trying to make any sense of this place was sort of going against the point of it, or leaning into the point of it, or something like that. I-I mean, it’s what the Spiral wants, is that increasing sense of panic and desperation as something that ought to be straightforward and logical, something that ought to take you in a straight line or to a particular place or whatever, keeps befuddling you and turning you around and whatnot. So I thought that if I just accepted that I wasn’t going to find any sense of direction, and that I couldn’t actually know where I was, let alone where I would end up, and just sort of wandered for a bit, I’d eventually get where I was going.

Only it didn’t work that way. The walls kept...changing. So did the floor and the ceiling. I’d know I was passing through another part of the corridors when I’d suddenly go from yellow walls to purple to orange, or the ceiling would go from green to pink to blue, or the floor would go from red to white to teal. I didn’t really pay attention to it, but then I realized I was back in the first part of the corridor. I’d have thought it was just a coincidence—I mean, there are only so many colors in the world and so many different combinations of them you can have—but there was the door, looking totally out of place in the bright, sterile lines of the corridor.

So then I started trying other options. I walked along with my eyes closed for a bit, wondering if maybe the colors were leading me astray, but when I opened them again, it was like I hadn’t moved. I tried heading in the other direction but still not thinking about my route. Same effect.

I was getting frustrated, and I was about to yell for the Keeper to just give it up already, to stop messing about with the hallways and lead me through. I was upset, actually. I mean, I knew it wasn’t really his domain, he probably wasn’t the one controlling it, but when you’re that worked up, you just want someone to blame, and he was handy, really. And I—I don’t like not knowing where I am, or where I’m going.

You know, I never really thought about it before, but...Mum used to...when I was younger, we’d be out somewhere, and she’d suddenly tell me there was something we had to do, and to keep up with her, and then she’d start walking really fast and threading through the crowds, and I’d be stumbling along trying to follow her. She wouldn’t hold my hand or anything, she’d just expect me to stay with her. And she’d never tell me where this “something” was, so any time I fell behind or lost sight of her for a second, I’d start panicking, because if I lost her, I wouldn’t know where to meet up with her. I did lose her a couple of times, and I’d just...start crying, and I never knew where to look for help. I felt like that again. Small. Weak. Helpless. Like I couldn’t do anything right, like I couldn’t do this one little thing she’d asked me to do, which was just...keep...up. And there wasn’t anyone there to help me figure out where the person who’d left me behind was, since I didn’t know where to meet up.

That’s when I thought...wait, I don’t know what route I’m supposed to take, but I do know where I’m going. I know what the end result is, just not how to get there. So I stopped thinking about wandering aimlessly and started thinking about wandering with a purpose. I focused on where—and when—we were trying to get. I even closed my eyes for a minute to make sure I was picturing it exactly right. And then I opened my eyes, and I started walking again.

After a while, the hallway started changing, which was how I guessed I was going the right way. The jellybean colors started fading, getting more...muted. Not really pastels, but just less vibrant. They started blending together, too, so they weren’t so weirdly different, like they were hues in a palette. And then they were all grey, featureless stone, like the—well, like the tunnels, only more regular. The grey got darker and darker until suddenly it was almost black. Then there was a carpet up the middle of the stone floor, blood red, and instead of electric lights the walls were lined with torches. I mean actual, fire-burning sticks jammed into wall sconces. I figured I was getting close.

And then...the hallway turned.

Look. I know how those...I know how the Spiral usually works, or at least the Distortion. You can’t see the turns, it looks like it just goes on and on in a straight line forever, because that’s what disorientates you. But this was an actual, L-shaped jog in the corridor. Part of me figured that the Spiral had decided, well, I knew enough to expect certain things, so it would have to throw me off by putting in things I wasn’t expecting—like actual, visible bends in the road. I didn’t doubt that if I tried to go around that corner I’d smack face-first into a wall. But I didn’t doubt for a minute that if I tried to go straight I’d hit a wall, too. You can’t try be logical with the Spiral. You’ll go mad. So I figured the only thing to do was try the corner.

I went around, and...it wasn’t just a hallway. It was more like a...gallery. There were pictures, or paintings, on every wall, in these big, ornate frames, and there was a neat little plaque next to each one with some writing on it. Seemed like it went on forever. I figured...well, it had to be the way through, didn’t it? There wasn’t any other way to go. I assumed there’d be an end eventually, or one of the paintings would be of the door out, or would be the door, or whatever, so I started in.

I looked at the first one, partly because I wondered if I’d recognize the door if I saw it and partly because...well, I was curious. It was very professional-looking. I couldn’t tell if it was a painting or a photograph, actually. It was of a woman, kind of a pretty one really, with her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and a round face and glasses. She was standing in kind of a dark-ish room, but there was something behind her—a table, maybe? And there was a shadow over her, and she—she was screaming. I wondered who would paint something like that, what they would call it, so I looked at the plaque. It was formatted just like a sign at a museum, with the name of the piece, the name of the artist, and the date of the painting, you know?

But this one...it said, “I See You”, Sasha James, July 29, 2016.

I hadn’t realized what I was looking at, not at first, but when I looked again...it was the shirt that got me. Dupplin checks in shades of pink and purple. You remember—with the ruffled sleeves and the pearl-and-silver buttons. It was Sasha’s favorite, she wore it all the time. And the woman in the picture was wearing it. That’s when it hit me, all of a sudden, that this wasn’t a painting by Sasha, it was a painting of Sasha. I just hadn’t recognized her, and that was...upsetting.

I turned away from it and looked at the next painting, and I got a real shock when I realized it was a picture of Tim. He was smirking. I—I knew that look of his—it’s the one he always used to get when he was teasing someone, you know? That smile of his that seemed to say “I know you want to hit me but you won’t because I’m so funny”? Except...there was something odd about it. An edge, maybe. His eyes were narrowed and it was obvious that he knew whoever he was talking to didn’t find his joke funny, like it was only funny to him. And he—he had the scars. He didn’t tease anyone like that after the attack on the Institute, or if he did, it was...bitter, so I couldn’t figure out who or what he might have been teasing. So I looked at the plaque for that one.

“I Know”, Timothy Stoker, August 7, 2017.

The date. The date’s what hit me. That’s a date I won’t ever forget. I looked back at the picture, and I realized he was holding something in his hand, and the background was...well. There was smoke, and debris, and fire, and it was all starting to—to boil up around him.

I looked back at that first painting, and I saw...things I hadn’t noticed before. I saw that whatever was making the shadow was...reaching for the Sasha in the painting, and I saw...bits, flying around. I realized I was looking at the moment that Sasha saw what was in Artifact Storage with her, and the other picture was the moment between Tim pressing the detonator and—and what came after. I was looking at their deaths.

It was the next one that made me realize what was wrong about it. I mean...I mean, seeing these at all was wrong enough, right? We’re talking instants, split-seconds, something no one should have had time to paint or a good enough camera to photograph. They were almost like someone had flash-frozen the actual, physical moment and put it in a frame. That’s wrong enough, right? But...but it wasn’t until I got to Daisy’s that I actually realized it.

At first blush, it was exactly like the others. That...moment. The plaque. “Basira”, Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner, date unknown. But...but this one I was there for. I remembered that instant. I might have been...a little distracted at the time, but I was looking when Basira emptied her gun into...into whatever Daisy had become. And I know it—she—was looking at Basira, and that she didn’t recognize anyone else.

But in the picture...she wasn’t looking at Basira. I mean, Basira wasn’t exactly in the picture, any more than the not-Sasha was actually in Sasha’s picture or Nikola was in Tim’s. But you could see where she was, where the bullets were coming from. And Daisy wasn’t looking in that direction. She was looking out, through the painting.

She was—she was looking at me. Directly at me. It was like I was back in that junkyard and she was right in front of me, and she saw me, and she knew me. And she was—she was scared, Jon. I could see it in her eyes. She was scared and she was pleading with me to help her, to save her. Maybe she was accusing me a little. Like she was saying I am dying and you are doing nothing to stop it.

And that’s when it hit me. I hadn’t thought about it before, because I w-wasn’t there for the others when they actually happened, but—but when I looked back at Tim and Sasha, they were looking at me, too. Sasha was scared and Tim was angry and it was clear that they both knew, whenever or—wherever they were, that I was looking at them and that they were dying and I wasn’t doing a damn thing about it.

I—I kept looking. I couldn’t stop. There were dozens—hundreds of them, all of them somebody I cared about, or knew, or—or knew of, at least. A lot of the people from the statements. My mother. My grandfather. Gertrude Robinson. Jurgen Leitner. All of them in the exact moments of their deaths, all of them looking at me with either pleading or accusation or both, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

The corridor went on forever, or that’s what it seemed like. It stretched in both directions and I couldn’t escape it. But there was a doorway, and I—I went through it. I don’t know if I thought it was the way I was supposed to go, or if I just wanted to get away from all the damn pictures, but I went through it. And as soon as I did, the door behind me disappeared, so I figured, okay, I’m going the right way. And it calmed me down, but only for a second.

It was a long, narrow room, maybe big enough for a single person to walk. And there were more framed pictures, evenly spaced, lining one side of the wall. The other side was completely bare. When I came in, I was facing the first picture, so I didn’t even have the option of not looking. So I looked.

At first, it didn’t seem too bad, you know? Nothing...deadly. Just a house, and two people. One of them was standing on the threshold of the house, the other on the path leading up to it. The door was open. The person on the path was a little boy, ten at the most, and he looked—terrified. Upset. It was like he wanted to cry or scream but didn’t know if he was allowed, and he was reaching a hand out desperately. The person on the porch was a young man, and he looked like something had caught him off-guard...and there were threads, thin silver strands, seeming to wrap around him, and something dark leaning out of the open door, like it was going to grab him.

For a moment, I was just relieved that neither of them was looking at me. Whatever was going on in the picture, whatever that poor man was involved in or that poor boy was witnessing, neither one of them blamed me for it. And then I realized I recognized something. The little boy’s face—his eyes. I knew those eyes, better than I knew my own.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked at the plaque. All it had was a title and a year. It Is Polite to Knock, 1996. That’s all it said...but I knew what it was. What I was looking at. And then, when I looked back at the painting, I could see it, very faintly. On the little boy’s outstretched hand was the lightest outline of a spider’s web.

I moved on to the next painting. I don’t think I could have stopped myself. And it was a man, sitting at his desk, a sheaf of papers in front of him and a tape recorder next to it. He had this...vacant look in his eyes, like he was only partly aware of what was in front of him, and he was wearing a cardigan. He had one hand on the papers, holding them up a little so he could read them, and the fingers on his other hand were tangled up in the cuff of the cardigan, like he was stretching it over his fingers and playing with it. The eyes were behind glasses now, but it was very obviously the same man as the little boy in the first picture. The plaque said Statement Begins, 2015. Just over the man’s shoulder was the faintest outline of an eye.

The third one was of the same man. Only this time, he was—he was in pain. His head was thrown back a-and he was screaming, I could almost hear it through the painting. There was another person behind him, another man, and he was screaming too, and standing over them was a woman, o-or what might have been a woman, once, but was honeycombed with white, grotesque worms. There were more of them, and they were—they were attacking the two men, but the one in the foreground, the one who’d been in the other paintings, he was already hurt, and I—I felt so guilty, like it was my fault, even without the man having to look at me and accuse me. He didn’t need to. I was already blaming myself. The plaque said—and it would have made me laugh if I hadn’t been so upset by the picture—it just said Ah, Shit, 2016. There wasn’t an outline of anything in that picture, just what was actually there, or at least actually visible.

I—I was having a bit of trouble breathing at this point. I knew what I was looking at, of course I did, but I couldn’t stop, I had to see all of them, so I looked at the fourth one. It was the same man, in the same office as the second picture, even wearing the same damned cardigan. Scars dotting his face and arms now, hair a little longer and with a bit more grey in it, but still the same man. He wasn’t alone, though. There was another...person there. He didn’t look right, like he’d been put together by someone who only had a partial idea of what a human being looked like. His hands—his fingers—looked like they had knives on the end of them instead of fingernails. He was...grinning, but it looked too big for his face. I think he might have been giggling. It looked like he was giggling. And he—he had one finger buried in the man’s side. The man was crying out in pain, but he also looked upset and scared. The plaque read There Has Never Been a Door There, 2016. There wasn’t a symbol in that one, either.

The fifth one. The same man again. He was shaking hands with a woman. She was smirking, a really nasty smile, malicious delight. He was screaming, like seriously in agony. Where their hands were clasped, there was a faint wisp of smoke coming up, and I swear I could almost smell burning flesh from where I stood. The plaque read Just Shake My Hand, 2017. Still no symbol.

The sixth one. Same man, and another man. The other man had scars, too—Lichtenberg figures, you know? He looked bored. The first man was panicking. It looked like he was trying to scream, but you could sort of tell he wasn’t actually making any sound. And he was free-falling, they both were, but the other man looked...controlled, somehow? It was obvious only one of them was in any real danger, and it wasn’t the one who’d been struck by lightning. The plaque said You Need to Learn Some Respect, 2017. In the sky behind them was the impression of more lightning, but not actual lightning. Just another symbol.

Y—

[SOUNDS OF DISTRESS AND INTERNAL STRUGGLE AS MARTIN AUDIBLY TRIES TO KEEP HIMSELF FROM CONTINUING]

(in a shaking voice) The—the seventh one...oh, God, I almost lost it then and there. It was the same man as in all the other pictures. He was...standing in a clearing. It was dark, and there was—a woman with him. She looked—angry, but also triumphant somehow? She—oh, God, she had him by the throat, and she had a knife pressed against it. There was so much terror in his eyes, and I d-don’t blame him. I was terrified. I wanted to—but I couldn’t do anything. I forced myself to look away from it and look at the plaque. Stop...Asking...Questions, 2017. There was no symbol in that picture, but there didn’t need to be, did there?

The eighth one. The man was bound to a chair, in a dark...warehouse? I guess? It was...actually, if I hadn’t known what it was, and, you know, I hadn’t already been on the verge of a complete breakdown, I might’ve appreciated the painting as being kind of artistic. There were these shadowy figures all around him, but they weren’t people. They were...pretty obviously waxwork mannequins. In front of him was a woman, pretty, but...I don’t know how to explain it. I’m fairly certain she was another mannequin, but she seemed alive, too. She was giving him this...almost impish grin, holding a tape recorder up in front of him. He was gagged, pretty thoroughly, and you could see he was straining against his bindings, and his eyes were panicky. The plaque said I Thought You’d Make a Lovely Frock, 2017. The shadows overhead made up an outline that kind of looked like a mask, one of those blank, featureless ones.

The n-ninth...I think that’s when I started crying. Didn’t look like all that much really, not compared to the others, but it was the man, lying in a grey hospital bed. Perfectly still. All the monitors perfectly flat but one. The plaque read Make Your Choice, 2018. Over the man’s face was a shadow that was...kind of shaped like a scythe.

The tenth. Actually a bit of a relief after that one, although it shouldn’t have been. It was the man and two women. They were in...what looked like a makeshift bunker of sorts. There was a bloody sheet, and the leg on one woman was bleeding. Honestly, it was all kind of chaotic, but the—the focal point was the woman with the bleeding leg, holding something sharp in her hand, jamming it into the man’s shoulder. The plaque said Don’t Touch Me, 2018. It was back to there not being a symbol in the picture.

The eleventh...was bad. There was the man who’d been in all the other pictures, and there was...calling it a man would be charitable. It was a mountain of flesh with a face. Enormous and bulging and...gross. It had its hand in the man’s torso and seemed to be pulling out one of his ribs, which was not a pleasant sight at all, and something about the man’s expression...I don’t think the actual extraction was a surprise, but it was obvious he hadn’t expected it to hurt quite as much as it did. The plaque read Mine Now, 2018. No symbol in this one, either.

The twelfth. It was mostly dark. There was the man, and—and the woman from the seventh painting, the one who...but she was scared in this one. So was he. They were both...pressed under dirt and rocks, and they both looked like they might be struggling to breathe. They were gripping one another’s wrists, not really holding hands, just like they were trying to maintain that contact and not...lose one another. The man had a tape recorder in his other hand. The plaque said There Isn’t Even an Up, 2018. Just barely visible in the dirt above them was the faint outline of a coffin.

The thirteenth. Unlucky number thirteen, but actually, it was the most peaceful one out of all of them. The man was standing in front of an open door. Inside was...black, but it was the purest, richest black you’ve ever seen in your life. He had a look on his face, both awestruck and terrified. The plaque said It’s Beautiful, 2018. There was a symbol overhead—a curved line with four lines coming off of it, like a drawing of a closed eye.

The—the fourteenth. There was the man, standing in the middle of this thick, grey fog. It was swirling all around him. He was...the expression on his face…h-he was panicked and terrified and upset and...all of it. It looked like he might have been about to cry. His teeth were clenched and he was—he was looking around him. Like he was trying to—to find something. The plaque said I Did This to Him, 2018.

I don’t know if there was a symbol in that one. Maybe not. I couldn’t look hard enough, because that was when I broke.

I fell on my knees. I was sobbing and gasping for breath. I was...definitely having a full-on panic attack. There was another painting on the hall, I could feel it, but I was fighting the urge to get up and look at it. I wanted to, something was compelling me to, but I c-couldn’t, because I knew what it would be of. I knew I’d look at it and see the cabin, and the statement, and the look on the man’s face, and the world ending outside the window. I could hear that moment, the rushing of wind, the gathering storm. I swear I could hear the other paintings, too—the gasping and the screaming, worms squirming and crickets chirping, the crash of the ocean and the rush of the wind, beeps and creaks and static, so much static—and it was just...it was just so much.

I was just about to turn around and look, because I couldn’t not, when I heard a voice say, “Enough.”

The noises stopped. I hadn’t realized they were anywhere but in my own head until that moment, but all I could hear then was me. I looked up and...the room had changed. It was plain grey stone, just a small antechamber really. The wall in front of me was blank.

I was still struggling to catch my breath, and I know I was still crying, but I turned and saw the Keeper standing next to me. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was…he was furious.

“If I ever found out who did that, we’re going to have a little...chat,” he growled. “And they won’t like it.” He looked at me for a minute, and then his face kind of softened and he added, “On the other hand, they’ll like having a chat with me more than they’d like having a chat with the Archivist. If he finds them first, I want to be there to watch.”

He helped me up. I was still struggling to get myself back together. The Keeper hugged me for a minute, then turned me around and pointed to a picture on the wall behind me.

“Here,” he said. “Look at this one instead, until you feel better. There’s time.”

This picture...i-it was the same man as in the other pictures, but he looked...he was still tired, but calmer. He wasn’t afraid. Quite the opposite, actually. He was sitting on one end of a ratty old sofa, wearing a sweater that was way too big for him, hair pulled back out of his eyes. He was looking up at—he was looking directly at me, and he was smiling. He was reaching out his hands, one sort of turned under like he was going to be taking something.

I remembered that moment. I could feel it. That first night in the cabin, we’d just had dinner. You’d cooked, so I’d told you to go sit down in the other room while I cleaned up, and then I made tea and brought it out. You were lost in thought at first, but when I came in, you looked up at me and smiled, just like that, and I—I felt safe, for the first time in months.

(heh) That was the first time, wasn’t it? The first time you said the words? I tried to play it off, you looked so startled, but then you recovered and doubled down on it and...

It was a good memory.

I stood there for I don’t know how long, staring at that picture, that moment, letting it push all the other ones I’d seen out of my head. Letting myself remember how it felt. Taking that comfort. I could feel myself relaxing, feel myself starting to smile.

From behind me, I only just heard the Keeper say, “Keep looking, Wickie. Keep the picture in your mind. I’m sorry for this.”

A—and then there came the pain. I don’t know how to describe it. A sudden explosion of—pain, like a migraine on steroids. I felt like something—popped, inside my head, just behind my eyes. No...no, not behind them. Not behind.

I don’t think I screamed. I think I wanted to, but it hurt so bad I couldn’t. The world went white, and I could feel something—not tears, something thicker, more gelatinous—trickling, pouring down my cheeks. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life—the worst physical pain, anyway.

And then everything went black. I guess I passed out. Next thing I knew, I heard a voice calling my name, teasing me about long nights and confusing my hours. I opened my eyes and asked what time it was, and Tim told me it was nine in the morning.

I’m just glad I realized what had happened before I said something stupid about the power being out.

ARCHIVIST

…

Statement ends.

I…

[TEN SECONDS OF UTTER SILENCE, SAVE THE WHIRRING OF THE RECORDER]

TIM

Fuck.

MARTIN

Jon, I’m sorry, I forgot it wouldn’t let me not—

ARCHIVIST

(overlapping) It wasn’t—

MARTIN

—let me skim on the details—

ARCHIVIST

No, it’s not—my God, Martin, I-I had no idea…

MARTIN

…Yeah, well, I told you it would keep you going for a bit.

PAST ARCHIVIST

I—

[RUSTLING, CREAKING NOISE OF SOMEONE GETTING OFF A SOFA WAY TOO FAST]

I—I need—I’ll be—

[RETREATING FOOTSTEPS]

PAST MARTIN

Jon, wait—

[SLIGHTLY DISTANT SOUND OF DOOR OPENING AND SHUTTING]

ARCHIVIST

I’ll go talk to him. Will you—?

MARTIN

We’ll be fine. Just be careful, okay?

ARCHIVIST

I promise.

[CLICK]

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #statements #mild eye horror (not graphic)#this was originally All the Million Hours if you're interested in the original version #this one works better imho #the formatting's better on AO3

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floral-on-main · 5 years ago

Text

I Would Dye For You

Summary: Lydia needs to re-dye her hair. She gets some help from the resident Ghost with the Most. It goes surprisingly well, all things considered. A sequel to Back To My Roots (No ship!)

Also on ao3. Words: 2279

Getting the hair dye was easy enough. No petty theft or step-mother begging needed. All it took was to ask her dad to pick it up on a grocery run. Then 3 to 5 business days later, Lydia had her box of black dye in hand. She couldn't help but think back to Beej's off hand comment about dyeing his own hair. She had no idea why a demon with color changing hair would want to dye it, but it couldn't hurt to indulge him.

Yes it could. Lydia knew it could, but this seemed relatively harmless.

So on her next mother-daughter bonding activity with Delia the two went to the mall. Of course Delia had to check out the recently opened shop of Spiritual Wellness. And of course Lydia had to go into the store that was blaring metal music and lined with walls with even more metal. She passed by another row of piercings before coming across a lone stand of hair products.

On the shelf was brushes shaped like skulls, neon colored hair clips, animal eared headbands, and a sizable selection of hair dyes. The majority were various shades of black, but a couple stood out with obnoxious packaging and color. Green, red, blue, purple, all colors she had already seen on BJ. She doubt there would be much of an impact if his hair didn't look any different. It was then she noticed a single box of pink dye stowed in the back behind the red.

Before she could second guess her actions, she purchased the bubblegum pink dye. Delia was near the entrance of the store perusing the crystal jewelry on display. From the look on her face, it seemed she didn't appreciate how almost none of the jewelry had actual stones and was just colored plastic. For once Lydia had to agree with her.

The ride home was quiet, almost pleasant. Lydia and Delia still didn't agree on most subjects, but they were growing closer. A family disaster would do that to people. Lydia now near that Delia wasn't naive or air-headed, just sickeningly optimistic.

As she raced inside Delia wished her the best of luck. It seemed Delia always had to get the last word in when parting. Lydia threw the door open to her room to find it thankfully empty. She knew Beetlejuice would show up eventually, but she didn't want his help right now. She placed the box of pink dye on her bed before grabbing the black dye from her wardrobe. Before leaving, she made sure to leave a note besides the dye that read 'For you. DO NOT EAT'.

Gloves on and brush in hand, Lydia was ready to rid herself of her loathsome roots. The only thing stopping her was the sound of moping on the other side of the bathroom door. Looks like Beej found her note. She took a deep, calming breath before kicking open the door. The sound of a surprised yelp soothed something primal inside her. Serves him right.

Lydia and Beej glared at each other in various states of ridiculousness. One knocked on his ass in a grungy suit, the other in a black stained floral robe and cheap plastic gloves.

“Give me ten minutes and then I'll do yours.”

Beej gave her a thumbs up. With that, she shut the door and made quick work of covering her roots. Beetlejuice leaned against the wall beside the door. He knew he was being a nuisance and he reveled in it. But he honestly did want her to finish up so he could get his hair done. God-slash-Satan, he really hoped the dye stuck in his hair. His suit could stain and he didn't want to look like he took a dip in Pepto Bismol. Never again.

The door opened just a sliver. Lydia's eye could be seen from the crack. Beej gave her big ol' puppy dog eyes, complete with dog tags and being housebroken. “Come in. Keep still or I <i> will</i> tell Delia that you're the reason her crystals have been going missing recently.”

“I told you that in confidence! But I understand where you're coming from.” With a snap of his fingers Beetlejuice was hogtied on the floor.

“Why are you like this?” She rolled her eyes while placing the box's contents on the counter. She donned the crappy gloves and mixed the dye with practiced skill. Beej hovered over her shoulder to see what she was doing, now free of his conjured bonds.

“Sit down, BJ. This is gonna take a while.” With a theatrical groan Beetlejuice sat on the edge of the bathtub.

Despite his normal jittery behavior, Beej managed to stay relatively skill as Lydia brushed in the heavily pigmented color. He even stayed quiet until Lydia was done. “Now we just have to wait,” she checked the box, “thirty minutes”.

That broke the flood gates and the two fell into their usual conversation topics. The main highlight being the chaos in the Deetz-Maitland household.

“I don't see why Chuck got so bent outta shape about Ginger visiting. Her dancing could use some work, but as far as spiders go, she's harmless.”

All Lydia could do was nod in agreement.

“She has nothing on that giant motherfucker Donna found in the closet.”

“Weren't you the one that put it in there?”

“Yeah, but that isn't the point, Lyds.”

Lydia washed her hair in the sink while continuing their conversation. “Bertha got braces recently.”

“What did she break? I didn't take her as the cool type.”

“Braces on her teeth, asshole. Also, breaking bones isn't cool. It's painful.”

“I've broken tons of bones in the name of a good time. You breathers got plenty of bones, doesn't matter if you break a couple.”

“Just because bones heal and carpets can be replaced doesn't mean we should go crazy stupid.” A brief moment passed. “We need to wait until we're alone, at least.”

The timer on Lydia's phone went off. She grabbed the shower head and brandished it it like a knife. “Now lean back so I can wash that excess out of your hair.”

His eyes narrowed. “Over my undead body.”

Just as he made a move to get up, his face was doused in lukewarm water. In that instant Beetlejuice resigned himself to, he shuddered, getting clean. Or his hair getting clean at least. Only two people could get him to willingly bathe and they were both dead.

After seven minutes, Beej was released to shake out his hair. Lydia was honestly surprised that no one came up to check on the sound of a cat being drowned. Looks like everyone had gotten somewhat desensitized to their shenanigans.

The time on her phone said dinner would be ready soon. Might as well head down now and get the questions out of the way. She met Beej at the end of the hall. How the fuck did he manage to get his hair dry already? Whatever, it's probably demon magic.

The dye seemed to be holding in pretty well. There wasn't a single splotch of pink on his hands or his suit. Could all dead people dye their hair? Was a demon thing, a demon that was alive for thirty seconds thing, or just a Beetlejuice thing?

The two descended the stairs in silence, after a quick shove match.

Delia was the first to notice the pair. She set the salad bowl alongside the plate of what looked like green spaghetti. She quickly took a seat with the rest of the adults, mentally preparing herself for whatever would come next. At the same time, Lydia and Beetlejuice prepared themselves for what the family had to say.

The most surprised actually seemed to be Delia. If she thought Lydia was going to use pink dye on herself Delia was delusional. Charles did a double take, but aside from that he didn't act out of the ordinary. It seemed he had already gotten used to the unusual happenings of his family. Lydia and Beetlejuice would have to set something on fire next week to keep him on his toes.

The Maitlands had absolutely no reaction. No gasps of surprise. No lecture about dyeing a violent demon's hair. Not even words of enthusiastic encouragement. The two ghosts just sat at the table and made polite conversation.

Beetlejuice took his now customary seat across from the Maitlands. The three dead members acted just like they normally did. That was somehow the most strange and abnormal thing Lydia had witnessed all day.

The food was tasty, even the pesto pasta. Of course Beej made a comment about its resemblance to moldy worms. Dinner as usual.

The semi-awkward, semi-peaceful silence was surprisingly broken by Charles. “Your hair looks exceptionally vibrant tonight, Mr. Juice.”

For some reason, Adam and Barbra broke into a fit of poorly concealed giggles. Lydia shot a confused look at Beej. He shrugged, but clearly knew something.

She pushed the salad around her plate, acting as nonchalant as possible. “I helped him dye it earlier.”

That got a reaction out of the Maitlands. They both looked confused and then looked at Beetlejuice. Hopefully their couple's telepathy wasn't rubbing off on him. It was weird enough how they always seemed to know what the other was thinking.

“I figured Beej wouldn't want a color he couldn't replicate naturally, so I picked up some bubblegum pink. It was obnoxious enough to fit his personality.” While everyone looked at Lydia, Beetlejuice stuck his tongue out at her.

The Maitlands got a twinkle in their eyes. Now a more common sight since Beetlejuice started hanging around. Adam said, “Pink is a good color on you, cuddlebug.” After that, Barbra either winked or had a muscle spasm in her eye.

For awhile she had figured her ghost-parents had a thing for Beej (she knew he certainly had a thing for them), but this was the final nail in the coffin. She wanted to gag. It felt wrong, but also right, which made it feel even more wrong.

Lydia was pulled from her thoughts by Barbra making a comment. “So it was just dye. And here we thought you were just happy to see us.”

It was with dawning horror that Lydia realized the Maitlands saw a different side of Beetlejuice than anyone else in the family. A more romantic and caring side. The comical sight of the nastiest dead guy she knew with pink hair wasn't worth it anymore. She would never get back her childhood innocence.

After that dinner passed in a blurry haze. Before she knew it, Lydia was back in her room actually looking forward to doing homework. It was mind numbing work, but it was the perfect thing to take her mind off the romantic relationships of her family members.

Things were changing. Like the rug had been pulled out from under her. What if Beetlejuice wouldn't want to hang out with her anymore? What if the Maitlands stopped helping her with homework? Lydia knew it was irrational. Her family loved her and always would. But deep down a dark feeling grew somewhere behind her diaphragm. It was a sick feeling. One that told her she would be unneeded, unwanted. That her family would move on and forget about her.

As if on cue Beetlejuice appeared in her room, hair still as pink as when she first dyed it. He was smiling an impossibly wide toothy smile. Something was behind his back.

“Ta Da!” He held out a box wrapped in pinstriped paper. A slime green bow completed the look. “Happy six month friend anniversary!”

Lydia took the small box from his open hands. A whole different type of tears threatened to spill. She hastily ripped off the paper and ribbon to reveal a matte black box underneath. She felt a single tear roll down her cheek as she removed the lid.

Inside, nestled among red satin, was a switchblade. She picked it up. The engraving on the handle's side immediately caught her attention. In curvy sliver writing it said, 'BFFFFs Forever'. She felt something warm bloom in her chest. Time to deflect with sarcasm. “ You do know you just gave me an implement to stab you with, dumbass.”

“Well, I was hoping you would stab other people. Y'know, for when I can't be there to protect you, ya little gremlin.” He reached out to ruffle her hair, a nasty habit picked up from Adam, but she managed to quickly move away.

With a pout Beetlejuice pulled his hand back. “Glad you liked the gift, scarecrow.” He tugged at his collar as if to stall for time. “And thanks for dyeing my hair. It really means a lot to me.” After that almost heartfelt confession he switched gears to cover up his vulnerability.

He patted down the lapels of his suit, slicked back his pink hair, and placed a hand over where his heart would be. “Now if you excuse me, A-Dog and B-Town wanted to speak to me about something. If you hear groaning and chains rattling just ignore it.” And with the toss of a smoke bomb, Beetlejuice was gone.

If Beej mentioned anything about his sex life she was definitely going to make use of that switchblade. Good thing his brain to mouth filter recently got an upgrade called Maitlands 2.0.

It seemed like some things never changed. Damn being alive was hard, but it didn't seem like being dead would be that different. Lydia just had to stick around and see.

#beetlejuice muscial #fic #lydia deetz #sibling bonding #btj #beetlejuice

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court-of-abs · 7 years ago

Text

“Maybe Tomorrow” (Elorcan Fanfic) [Chapter 5]

Hey! Only two days late this time (Shhhhhh I know I technically promised last Saturday, but I promised Tuesday after my first delay so we’re going with two days late to make myself feel better, Ok? thanks lovelies) I’ve tagged everyone who has requested to be tagged below, and if you’re not on this list, and want to be, just comment on this post! I know my releases are sporadic and extremely late most of the time, so having me tag you may just be the best way to keep up with everything (or you can always turn your post notifications on for me. Either way, I’m not complaining ;) ). ENJOY DUCKLINGS!

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Tag List:

@bibliophileinnightcourt @colbelike @bluephoenix222 @zorpher @high-lady-of-perranth @addled

“Good work today boys” Mr. A said, blowing his whistle to signal the end of practice. Lorcan hastily walked away from the group huddle, grabbed a towel off the bleacher railing, and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he made his way towards the locker room. It hadn’t been good work today, at least not for Lorcan. He’d been slow, careless. He’d messed up more plays in a single practice than he had in his entire football career, or at least it seemed that way.

It also seemed that the new quarterback wasn’t particularly fond of Lorcan and had made it a point to avoid passing to him at all costs. Lorcan wasn’t particularly fond of him either.

At least not since-

“Lorcan!” Fenrys called from behind him, causing Lorcan to turn his head. Fenrys and Connal jogged right up to him, slowing down once they had reached his side. “You ready for tonight?”

Fenrys, who, Lorcan realized, felt the need to be shirtless in just about every situation, was currently using his jersey to wipe off the sweat from his face.

“What’s tonight?” Lorcan asked, shaking his head at Fenrys’ choice of attire.

“Lorcan, you’ve forgotten already?” Fenrys said. He pushed his hair, which was free from its usual top knot, out of his face and swung an arm around Lorcan’s shoulder, or, tried to at least. Lorcan had almost a foot on him, on both of the twins. Lorcan shrugged it off immediately. “I swear just this monday you were complaining the black eye I gave you would prevent your future, hmm, how would you say it Connal?”

Fenrys looked past Lorcan to gain his brother’s attention on the other side of him. Connal let a slight smile play on his lips as he rolled his eyes and turned towards Fenrys. “Prospects?” he asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yes, prospects.” Fenrys said, sending a look of pure mischief right towards Lorcan. “And would you look at it now, there’s barely any bruising left around your eye crybaby.”

Lorcan, stifling the urge to snap right back at Fenrys, groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “God, that fucking party.”

Connal chuckled.

“Yes, that’s the one” Fenrys said, a smile dancing on his lips.

Connal looked up at both of them, his eyes darting away to avoid both of their gazes. “Are you sure we should go? You know it’s at Aelin’s house this ye-”

“Maeve says we’re going, we’re going” Lorcan said, pinning Connal with a look that had him hanging his head again in an instant.

Fenrys chuckled. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll make sure the fire breathing bitch doesn’t burn you.” Lorcan let a smile form on his lips, but Connal only shrugged and kept his head down.

They had reached the locker rooms at this point, and Connal walked straight into the locker room without even noticing that his two companions had strayed just outside the entrance.

“Does Maeve have a game plan yet?” Lorcan asked, grabbing Fenrys’ shoulder and preventing him from entering the locker room. It pained him to ask, he hated when people, and Fenrys of all people, knew something he didn’t. But he swallowed his pride, as difficult as it was, and continued anyway. “I know she wouldn’t just show up to Aelin’s house without a plan.”

Fenrys’ face scrunched up in confusion, “Not that I’m aware of. And besides,” Fenrys continued on, his brows furring deeper, “wouldn’t she tell you first? You’re her second, as she likes to say.” Fenrys’ eyes relaxed and a smile grew on his lips once more. He was all Cheshire cat as he said “ And given that you are completely and utterly in-”

Lorcan grabbed Fenrys’ by the shoulders and shoved him up against the side of locker room entrance, lifting him off the ground and leaning in so close that he could smell that horrid cologne Fenrys always had, trailing him everywhere. Not even a damn workout could cover up the stench.

“What were you going to say?” Lorcan’s voice was so low and so guttural that every word sounded like a growl. It was almost indecipherable.

“What?” Fenrys said, clenching his jaw and fighting against Lorcan’s grip. “Worried Connal will hear? Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t mind if you get with her instead. He can’t stand her half the time any-” Lorcan bared his teeth at Fenrys, silencing him in an instance.

“What ever revelations you think that you’ve made, boyo, keep them to yourself” and with that Lorcan dropped Fenrys onto the ground. Fenrys rolled his shoulders, rubbing along the skin that Lorcan had been pushing up against just moments before.

Just then, the rest of the football team began walking into the locker room. Some turned towards Fenrys and Lorcan and gave them a low whistle or a quick wink before laughing to themselves and entering the lockers. Lorcan only realized just now how close they were, him towering over Fenrys, and Fenrys a mere inches from his face. Fenrys’ constant mischievous glare returned, and he merely winked at Lorcan as he sauntered away and high-fived one of the teammates, following them into the locker room.

Lorcan ran his hands through his hair and let out a sigh. Was he really that obvious? He couldn’t be. Fenrys was just observant, always had been. It was one of the reasons Maeve had brought him into their group.

It may also have been the reason she took him into her bed, as well as her brother.

But Lorcan could barely string two thoughts together at the moment, could barely even comprehend what this could mean for him now that Fenrys, and possibly others, knew how he felt.

Did Maeve know how he felt?

Lorcan turned towards the locker rooms and was met with two piercing green orbs, two pine-green eyes.

Rowan Whitethorn.

The two did nothing, just starred, both refusing to back down. Both refusing to look away.

But Lorcan, Lorcan was done with thinking right now. So he stormed right past Rowan and his “#3” Quarterback jersey, and went into the locker room.

“You stole a book?! And you’ve kept it for nearly A WEEK!” Aelin exclaimed, her jaw practically touching the floor as she gaped at Elide and pointed an accusatory flat iron towards her.

“Well, no, I mean I’m gonna give it back” Elide said, her voice small despite the urge to laugh at Aelin’s outburst. “The library was about to close and I was so tired that I just walked out with it. I accidentally shoved it in my bag as I was getting up to leave.”

Lysandra’s eyebrows shot up and she started laughing at Elide almost immediately after her confession. Manon, the ever heartless Manon, even had a small smile on her lips as she scrolled through her phone.

“You are going to give that back, today” Aelin said, waving her flat iron at Elide as she did so. Lysandra had yet to cease laughing, and Aelin only rolled her eyes at her friend before turning her attention back to Elide.

“I know, I’ll go right now” Elide said, already sliding off Aelin’s bed and making her way across the bright pink carpet and towards the bedroom door.

Lysandra, currently lounging over Aelin’s purple bean bag, shot out her leg, a gleaming black heel adding an extra extension, and stopped Elide from exiting. “No you don’t, the party is in less than an hour, and you’re not done getting ready.”

Elide swallowed. “But I-”

“Lysandra she stole a book. A-” Aelin, still using her flat iron as a pointer, gestured to the overpacked bookshelves lining the wall across from the bedroom door, “BOOK.”

Lysandra only raised her eyebrows at Aelin, refusing to back down. “She’ll return it tomorrow.” Lysandra raised her eyebrow further to accentuate her point.

“We’re doing campaign planning tomorrow” Manon interjected cooly, her gaze still locked on her phone. It was the first comment she’d made all afternoon.

“Then she’ll return it sunday.” Lysandra said.

“Library is closed sunday too.”

“Since when?”

“Since labor day weekend existed.”

“Well then she’ll return it monday.”

“Monday is labor day.”

“Tuesday then.”

“Tuesday we’re campaigning after school, unless her majesty” Manon side-glanced at Aelin, “decides to change that last minute too.” Elide could of sworn Aelin grinned at herself in the mirror as she continued straightening her hair.

“Wednesday, then, she’ll return it wednesday.”

“Wednesday is-”

“She’ll return it the next freaking time she goes to the library” Lysandra yelled, groaning loudly, plopping back into the bean bag chair, and throwing an arm over her face.

Aelin covered her mouth with her free hand, stifling a laugh the best she could. Manon let another smile creep onto her lips. Elide made a silent note to not try and best Manon. Maybe she just shouldn’t even try to talk to Manon.

“You little shits will be the death of me” Lysandra mumbled out, throwing her other arm over her face. Aelin still looked on the verge of laughing, but she turned back towards her vanity mirror and continued straightening her hair.

“Why are your parents not here tonight?” Elide asked, curiosity coming over here.

“Some farewell dinner for my father, I think. It’s his last term and all, and they wanted to do it now before the election gets even more heated than it is.” Aelin said, her focus still on her hair.

“I think my uncle’s going to that” Elide said, more to herself than to Aelin. But she knew Aelin had heard her.

“Manon” Aelin said, watching her reflection as she brought the straight iron through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Manon raised an eyebrow, still refusing to break her focus away from her phone. “Do Elide’s makeup, won’t you?” Manon sighed and rolled her shoulders, finally tearing her gaze away from her phone.

“Fine” Is all she said as she rose from the bed, her sleek ponytail falling down to her hips, and walked towards Aelin’s three-person vanity. She began pulling various boxes and objects out of Aelin’s several makeup bags. Half of the contents were currently spewed across the vanity, almost completely covering the bright blue surface.

“Your makeup collection is almost as bright and as messy as your room” Manon said, not a hint of emotion in her voice.

Aelin turned towards her and winked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Manon, choosing to ignore Aelin’s response, analyzed the contents in her hands and then turned towards Elide, fixing her with a stare and raising an eyebrow to signal Elide to come over. Elide obeyed, making her way over to Aelin’s vanity and taking a seat in the chair next to Aelin and closest to the door.

“Now Elide,” Aelin started as Manon began inspecting Elide’s face and searching through the contents in her hands once more, “what are we going to do about your outfit.” Elide shifted her gaze towards Aelin, finding her now on the other side of the room by Lysandra and sifting through plethora of clothes in her closet.

“Are we thinking… daring” she said pulling out a dangerously low cut v-neck and handing it down to Lysandra, “sexy” Aelin pulled out a crop top now, so cropped, that Elide thought the underside of her boobs were guaranteed to peek out, “or confident.” Aelin pulled out a black mini-dress. It was form fitting, and as she turned the back around to inspect the rest of the garment, Elide saw that it also would bare her back. Her entire back.

Aelin handed the two other garments to Lysandra and turned back towards her closet. But before Elide could see more, Manon yanked on her chin, bringing Elide’s attention right back to her.

“Don’t. Move.” She gritted out, grabbing for the concealer and going to work on Elide’s face. From her peripheral Elide could see Lysandra inspecting each garment and glancing over at Elide occasionally. Aelin continued searching through her closet, leaning back every so often to inspect it from a farther away.

“I’m not sure” Lysandra said, tossing the garments next to her so that they now resided on the floor, along with a good portion of Aelin’s other clothes. Elide attempted to shift her gaze towards them, but Manon merely yanked on her chin again, bringing Elide’s gaze right back to Manon’s.

“Or…” Aelin said, digging in the closet now with more fervor than before.

“I like the sound of or” Lysandra purred, rising from the beanbag chair and making her way over to Aelin.

Elide couldn’t see what they pulled out of the closet, but by the squeals that Lysandra emitted and the whistling from Aelin, she determined that they had found something-

“Daring, sexy, and confident. Elide, you’ll thank me later” Aelin said. Unable to fight looking away any longer Elide turned her head towards them, earning a string of curses from Manon.

“You’ve ruined the eyeliner.” Elide’s chin was yanked back once more, and Manon was so close to her face as she spoke that Elide could feel the warmth of her breath. “Move again, and watch what happens. Just watch.” Elide swallowed and didn’t budge again.

Once Manon had finished her makeup and finally permitted her to move away, Elide turned towards Aelin and Lysandra to find the both of them giving her roguish grins.

“The makeup looks amazing, as always Manon.” Aelin commented, stealing a glance towards Manon as she spoke and then turning right back towards Elide, that grin still in full control of her features. Elide now realized one of her hands was behind her back, hiding the garment she was to wear that night no doubt.

“Elide, tonight you are everything you think you can’t be. You are the Elide Lochan you are scared to be.” Lysandra tilted her head and looked Elide over. She turned towards Aelin and nodded. Elide brought her gaze over to Aelin as well, a knot forming her stomach and permanently tying itself as Aelin brought her hand out from behind her back, revealing the outfit she was to wear.

Manon, of all people, Manon let out a laugh louder than any of the ones they had let out earlier today. Elide could barely move, her jaw set in permanent gaping as she stared at their choice for her.

Aelin seemed to notice the hesitation, and her face softened a little bit. “If it really makes uncomfortable, we understand. No peer pressure.” Lysandra, however, was mouthing “say yes” so conspicuously that Elide could barely contain her laughter.

It was… nothing like Elide had ever worn.

But maybe she should try something else tonight, be someone else tonight.

So Elide closed her mouth, swallowed down her fear, untied the knot in her stomach, and nodded.

That was all Lysandra and Aelin needed as they rushed towards her to get her ready for the coming night.

Two hours later and the house was packed, literally packed. As Elide pushed through the crowd of people to make her way towards the kitchen she couldn’t help but compare the atmosphere to that of the lunch room. It seemed that school followed her wherever she went. Everyone packed together, so closely that personal space had been forgotten for the entire evening, and the music and conversation so deafening she was half-tempted to cover her ears as she walked by the speakers blaring out the electronic beats.

The kitchen was no better, but Elide needed to find Aelin, and after asking several people, most of whom were too drunk to even answer her, she was finally directed to the small living room that was directly adjacent to the kitchen.

She was glad she decided not to drink tonight. With the atmosphere, she wasn’t really sure what would've happened if she decided to drink.

Not that she had ever even taken a sip of alcohol before.

“Elide!” Lysandra whooped from the couch. She was currently standing on the top edge of the couch with Aelin, swaying her hips to the beat with one hand around Aelin’s waist and the other holding an empty bottle of wine.

“Get down before you fall!” Elide shouted over the music and rushed towards the two. Lysandra giggled and Aelin joined her. Elide looked around frantically for anyone to help her, but it seemed like someone was already keeping an eye on them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch them if they fall” Rowan said from the other side of the couch. He was watching both girls twirl around on the edge of the sofa, a fierce determination set in his gaze.

“Didn’t you try to get them down?” Elide asked, still reaching out for Lysandra and Aelin’s hands, but they moved away from her, sticking out their tongues and even daring to jump up and down on the top edge of the couch with the music.

Rowan chuckled, low and rugged. “trust me, I tried. But once you get to know these two, you’ll realize that they don’t let anything and anyone get in the way of what they want to do. No matter how crazy it is.” His gaze never left them as he spoke to her.

The music seemed to grow even louder then, her eardrums on the verge of bursting.

“How are the cops not already here shutting this down?!” Elide shouted, her voice cracking as she tried to shout over the music.

Rowan tilted his head. “Didn’t you drive up here? Her house is a good ½ mile from the main road and there aren’t any neighbors within a 5 mile radius.”

Elide felt all kinds of stupid. She’d marveled at the trees lining the dirt road up to Aelin’s house, Aelin’s oak-wood mansion with dark blue shutters and french windows and cherry trees and rose bushes and the stone fountain depicting Mala Firebringer. And, gods, the sense of escape it must offer. They could blast the music three, four times louder and no one would even notice.

Perks of being the president’s daughter, Elide guessed.

“Oh god, how much did those two drink!” Dorian said as he came up behind Rowan. His arm was cast lazily over Chaol’s shoulder, his other hand shoved into his pocket. Chaol only rolled his eyes and, if Elide wasn’t mistaken, leaned into Dorian’s touch a little more as Dorian directed them both to the chair opposite the couch that Aelin and Lysandra were currently dancing on.

“I’m betting that Lysandra drank that whole entire bottle herself” Dorian said, and Lysandra only bowed at him before returning to her dancing with Aelin. Elide sighed and moved away from the two, settling into the chair opposite Dorian and Chaol.

And then Dorian’s eyes turned towards Elide and they almost jumped out of their sockets. Chaol startled at the movement and turned towards Elide as well, his eyes flaring at her appearance as well.

“What on earth did Aelin make you wear” Dorian said, his mouth gaping.

“Doesn’t she look HOT” Aelin shouted from atop the couch edge, and let out a stream of giggles.

Uncomfortable was honestly more like it. Her previous confidence to try the outfit was practically gone at this point. Aelin and Lysandra had fit Elide into a black, very low cut bodysuit that left the back completely exposed and had so many cutouts along the sides that Elide thought it was a miracle nothing had peeked out yet. The shorts Aelin had given her to wear barely covered her butt. Barely. It was definitely a mix of daring and sexy, but Elide wasn’t really sure that the confident element was really there. That may have been partly because, right now, she had a lack of it.

“It’s just, I wouldn’t expect you of all people to wear something like that” Dorian claimed, his mouth still ajar.

“Hey! What makes you think that you know who she is and what she wears and-” Lysandra’s declaration started out strong but faded out as she began to slur her words. Dorian put up his hands in defeat and slung his arm back over Chaol’s shoulder. Aelin laughed and jumped down from the couch, landing on the ground as gracefully as a cat. She turned towards Rowan and gave him a goofy smile before leaning up to kiss his cheek and plopping down onto the couch. Lysandra soon followed, and Rowan, finally content that neither of them were in immediate danger, sat down next to Aelin on the couch.

“Where’s Manon?” Elide asked, turning her head around looking for the white-haired girl. Manon, to shed in her in a somewhat good light, had done Elide’s makeup extremely well. Bold, but not too bold. Nothing like her outfit for the night.

“Probably off somewhere making out with Asterin” Chaol replied, his arms crossed over his chest and his face bored.

Dorian snorted and buried his face in Chaol’s neck. Lysandra and Aelin giggled at Chaol’s comment and Rowan rolled his eyes, simply pulling Aelin closer to him as she let the fit of laughter take over her body.

“They think they’re being SO sneaky!” Lysandra exclaimed, laughter still reverberating through her body.

Just then, a long whistle with an abrupt cut-off was sounded and repeated, by the guests. Some of the party-goers even turned towards where Elide was sitting, seeking out Aelin’s gaze and reiterating the short tune until Aelin had met each of their stares and nodded.

“Good lord” Dorian said, putting his head in his hands. Chaol even had the sense to replace his bored look with one of annoyance, and a loud groan escaped Lysandra’s lips.

“What’s happening?” Elide asked, leaning forward in her seat a little more. Aelin closed her eyes for a moment and then turned towards Elide.

“That’s the signal my guests have to give me if they show up. It’s the only rule I have at my parties.”

Elide furrowed her brows. “When who shows up?”

Rowan turned towards Elide then, his usual hard demeanor now seemed as tough as obsidian as his eyes met Elide’s and he spoke.

“The Cadre.”

#i know not a lot of stuff happened in this one #I just wanted to churn 'er out for you guys ASAP #the next one's gonna have a lot of drama #I PROMISE

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whenimgoodandready · 7 years ago

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✳SVTFOE, Behind the Scenes of “The Battle for Mewni” Part 7

(smart phone video turns on to reveal the inside of a moving tour guide bus going around the studio lot. It pans to Star)

“What goes on Starlings!? I’m here goin’ for a ride around the lot and I wanna show you some places u haven’t seen before! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

(the bus stops and Star moves the camera to a POV of her exiting and the bus)

“Thanks Sir!”

(the driver smiles, waves good-bye and drives off. Star pans the camera around to studio rows)

“You see, not only is “Star vs. The Forces of Evil” filmed here, but a lot of other Disney/Disney XD channel shows!“ (see shows each studio and it’s logos) “There’s “Milo Murphy’s Law” (a pistachio cart is outside of it, a herd of llamas and the right side of the studio roof broken and on fire), “Star Wars Rebels” (a spaceship model is outside of it) and “Tangled:The Series” (a dress rack and a long blonde wig is surrounding the studio. Star moves the video to herself and laughs) “Yeah, it’s a wig! But Rapunzel’s super nice! Also check this!”

(the camera turns off. It turns back on and we see Star outside of a different area of the studio lot)

(sing song voice) “Here we are in the studio lot of talk shows! (speaking) “Where talk shows are held” (moves her face close to the camera) “Toffee is making a guest appearance on Jimmy Fallon and so” (whispers) “I wanted u guys to see it before it airs”, (puts her index finger to her lips) “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

(Star moves the camera to the studio and we get a POV shot of her walking behind it. We see her approach a door and then her hand reaching the knob opening it. The inside is dark and we hear laughter. The camera pans to the left, then to the right where there’s a faint light and we hear Jimmy’s voice)

“Yes, thank you ladies and gentlemen, thank you!”

(the camera moves closer to right and we see a background of a cityscape and peaking from behind it, we see Jimmy Fallon at the desk and Toffee sitting in the guest seat also the audience applauding. We hear Stars voice)

(gasps and talks quietly) “Oh my gosh, you guys, he’s really there! Toffee is talking to Jimmy Fallon! Shoosh! Shoosh! Shoosh! Shoosh! Shoosh!”

(Jimmy turns to Toffee) “Hey Toffee, I know we’re at the start of July and everything, but whaddaya say you sing us a song!?” (hands Toffee a microphone and the audience cheers. Toffee look embarrassed)

“No, no, no, no. Jimmy I can’t”

(Jimmy nudges the mic towards Toffee)

“Awe, C'mon!” (the audience cheers on)

(Toffee blushes and turns his head away)

“Seriously, I can’t!”

(Jimmy continues to hold the mic out for Toffee as the audience continues to cheer. We hear Star speak smugly)

“He’s not gonna do it”

(Toffee smirks and takes the mic)

“Okay, fine, I’ll do it”

(Jimmy looks pleased and the audience cheers and applauds. Star sounds bewildered)

“Huh, well whadaya know?”

(Toffee taps the mic and we hear it sound. He turns to Jimmy)

“It’s working right?”

“Yes, it’s on” (Jimmy turns to a sound guy off screen) “Start the music!”

(The audience cheers. We hear Star)

“OOOOOOOOH, I am SO keeping this taping!”

(Toffee clears his throat, sits up straight and the music to “Santa Clause Is Coming to Town” plays)

🎶You better watch out

(Toffees voice is smooth as silk)

You better not cry

You better not pout I’m telling you why

Santa Claus is coming to town🎶

(a little laughter is heard from the audience)

🎶He’s making a list

He’s checking it twice

He’s going to find out who’s cheek he should slice

(the audience laughs. Toffee has a smirking look on his face throughout the whole song)

Santa Claus is coming to town🎶

🎶He sees you when you’re sleeping

Jimmy:(tries to hide his discomfort by smiling) “I’m scared right now”

He knows when you’re awake

He knows if you’ve been bad or good so be good for goodness sake🎶

(Jimmy nods vigorously now showing his discomfort)

🎶You better watch out

You better not cry

Jimmy:(gestures around) “He-He’s talking to everybody”

You better not pout I’m telling you why

Random Woman from the audience: "Why!?”

Santa Claus will kill you if you’re bad🎶

(Jimmy stops the singing)

Jimmy:“Hey hey hey, no no”

Toffee:“Was that good!?”

“Yeah, that was real good, Toffee everyone!”

(the audience cheers/applauds with Jimmy as Toffee bows his head. The camera pans to Stars face and she’s stunned. She pauses for a moment)

“Okaaaaaaay, Note to Self:Make sure to convince Daron not to let Toffee in our Christmas special ever” (nervously smiles) “Let’s get outta here now”

(the camera turns off. It turns back on and we see the Butterfly castle with a large green screen background behind it. We hear Star make trumpet noises)

“Baa baa baa baa BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! The Butterfly Castle! Isn’t it beautiful! It took the set designers months to construct it! Marco joked about turning it into a casino!” (laughs. Star pans the camera to the right) “Oh! And over here we have Ludo’s kingdom!” (Ludo previous kingdom from Season 1 is shown standing with a green screen background)

“Spooooooooooooooky! The explosives team had a lot of fun blowing that place up! But we used a different location and set design to make it look like it blew up cuz Daron wanted to show it to tourists” (pans the camera to the left) “And over there we have The Cloud Kingdom!” (a pastel pink/purple cloud filled area with plastic diamonds attached to them and a rainbow is shown with a pink background. Star sighs dreamingly)

“It’s like heaven……….in a studio lot! You’ll be seeing that a lot in the show when Marco and I see Pony Heads family in one episode! That rainbow there is a real slide we rode for the Season 3 theme song opening, watch!” (the camera is shaking into a standing position and we see Star run into view and to the left. Climbing noises are heard then sliding. Star comes into view again finishing the slide) “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

(laughs and dusts off her young Queen Moon dress) “Jeremy loves playing around with it on break!” (runs up to the camera with her face in a close up) “You guys wanna see the Butterfly Castle!?” (She grins and picks up her smart phone camera. We see her POV running to the door of the Butterfly Castle. She stops in front of it. She moves the camera to face her)

“Now when I open this door, I want you all to imagine your favorite magical tune playing while you’re looking around…….like the harp!” (Star moves the camera to the door again and opens it. We enter slowly and see the long diamond pattern carpet leading to the Queen Moon and King Rivers thrones. The camera pans up and we see the crystal chandelier. The camera pans down and moves to the right and we see large spade shaped windows. It pans to the left and we see the stairway where we were first introduced to Star and the huge portrait of The Butterfly Family. The camera pans upward so we could see the whole thing) “I look so……….so…………melancholy” (the camera pans to the left and we see the magic mirror and Stars reflection holding her smart phone. She notices and waves to herself. She walks over to the mirror. She speaks all queenly) “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, call Dominoes!”

Magic Mirror:“Calling Dominoes”

(Star laughs) “I know right! It actually operates like a real phone!”

Magic Mirror:(a young woman in a uniform shows) “Hello, Dominoes pizza, how may I take your order?”

“Uh, yeah, I'd like a Honolulu Hawaiian pizza with some breadsticks, a bottle of Coke and a chocolate lava cake please”

“Alright and where to deliver?”

“Studio Lot #9 at 2100 Riverside Drive!”

“Thank you, we’ll send for delivery”

(the magic mirror turns off. Star shrugs at her reflection smiling)

“I got hungry”

(She keeps the camera on her as she walks)

“So that was The Butterfly Castle for you! Those stairs don’t lead anywhere, but an empty unfinished hallway cuz we never filmed anything passed the throne room and-” (gasps as her irises shrink) “OH MY GOSH!” (she pans the camera to a corner of the room and we see a balloon stand with many balloons of Hekapoo, Omnitraxus and Rhombulus and their eyes hollowed out in black) “Why didn’t I notice that before!?” (we see a running motion straight to the balloons and Stars hand picks ‘em all up. She turns the camera to her) “Aren’t they cool! Daron had me and the cast pass these out to the kids during the tour!” (grimaces up at them) “Although, they’re a little freaky…..”(pans the camera back up to the balloons) “…….if you ask me. I mean, that’s some dark comedy sh*t right here, huh?, carrying your dead friends as balloons! Coo-coo!” (turns the camera back to her laughing) “but, I’m sure some people find that funny”

(Star walks to the door and exits The Butterfly Castle continuing her walk) “So Starlings, whattaya wanna see next!? The School? The Forest of Certain Death? TOFFEES TRAILER?!”

“Star!”

(Star hears a voice and moves her camera to whole set of Mewni as we see a little girl running toward her. She stops in front of Star and pants. She looks up at Star)

“Star! There you are! Where were you!?”

“Oh! Hey Amy! Everyone, this is Amy Vendrosian, remember her!? She’s that little girl that Gustav was staying with at her place with her family in “The Other Exchange Student”! Isn’t she cute!? Say Hi Amy!“

(Amy smiles and waves) "Hello!” (gets serious) “Star, Daron needs you to shoot the next scene! She was really mad that she couldn’t find you! You gotta hurry!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go back to the studio, here” (hands Amy all the Magic High Commission balloons) “hold these” (we see a running motion around the set. Suddenly, there’s a scream. Star stops) “Huh?”

(the camera turns around and we only The Butterfly Castle. There’s a far scream)

“STAR!”

(the camera pans up and we see Amy floating away with all the balloons she’s desperately clinging onto for life. Star whimpers)

“Oh sh*t!”

(camera turns off)

#svtfoe #the battle for mewni #behind the scenes part 7

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renoxa · 6 years ago

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Trends – Pretty Pastel Sofas and How to Decorate Around Them

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If you were to ask me if I had any regrets over decisions made in the past five years, I wouldn’t hesitate. I have no regrets about moving out of London for instance. I just wish I’d done it sooner. I have no regrets about getting a dog, bless him. Big, hairy, thing that he is. The biggest regret I have over the past five years, is buying a GREY SOFA! It’s a practical choice granted. It doesn’t show the dirt, and it goes with practically every other colour. But it’s also so dull. Dull, dull, dull. So when I noticed the new powder pastels featuring a lot on the Darlings of Chelsea website I was green with envy.

Melrose Grand Sofa

Millennial Pink With Black and White

Millennial pink has been blazing through interiors for a while now, mostly on walls, but this year we are starting to see this muted pink shade on upholstery too. If you think this colour is just too sweet and sugary you couldn’t be more wrong. It’s all to do with how you use it. I’m seeing lots of bohemian inspired rooms using powder pink paired with monochrome accessories. The addition of black and white brings the pastel pink down a notch. But remember to use lots of texture for a true boho-chic inspired scheme, with shaggy Moroccan inspired rugs, soft cushions featuring geometric patterns in neutral colours, basketware, and plants. Search for pink sofas on Pinterest and this is the look you will see the most.

Paisley Sofa

Millennial Pink With Emerald Green

If you prefer a bolder more daring scheme, consider a muted pink sofa against dark emerald green walls. It’s powerful and very dramatic, and the contrast makes the pink stand out more. You could take this look further down the Art-Deco route (another big trend for 2019) with plenty of velvet, plush carpet, symmetrically placed side tables, and glamorous geometric shapes. Even without these deco features, this scheme would benefit from the addition of shiny metals and sparkly crystals.

Dulwich Midi Sofa

Mellow Yellow With Grey

According to Darlings of Chelsea mellow yellows are shaping up to be a popular colour for interior trends in 2019. It’s not surprising really. In these uncertain economic times we need some cheering up, and what better colour to do it with? It’s also the perfect colour to offset against those dark grey walls we’ve all been sporting in recent years. Guilty as charged, yer ‘onour. Yellow will add a dose of sunshine on even the dullest of days and will provide a perfect accent colour. Don’t overdo it though by added yellow accents elsewhere. To get the full effect, just have a yellow sofa.

Stirling Midi Sofa

Mellow Yellow With Blue

Opposites on the colour wheel (sort of, technically it’s purple but I’m using some poetic license), yellow and blue go together very well. Often seen together in nature, go all out and add bold floral cushions or curtains for an exhuberant and summery scheme. If you keep the walls white you can ever add more colour and pattern with artwork and rugs.

Malvern Midi Sofa

Avocado With Other Pastel Shades

Avocado is also a popular powder pastel shade. It’s subtle hue is perfectly suited to mixing with other pastels as non of them will overpower the other. It’s a serene shade and very easy on the eye. So as not to overdue the sweetness of the pastel colours, add natural textures to the scheme. Seagrass rugs, baskets, natural wood, brick and rattan all spring to mind for a relaxed and nature-inspired look.

This post was written in collaboration with Darlings of Chelsea but all views are my own. I only work with companies I love and would use myself.