#for the little bit about the hare at the end

[cosmic-puppy-playtime]

Its not fair

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 5]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.8k

Summary: 'Rule 27: It’s a poor choice to help a hare at high noon, but it will certainly appreciate you if you do.'

WARNING for some descriptions of violence

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

You’d first set foot on The Rose Queen when you were the tender age of eleven. Or, well, something close to that. It wasn’t like most peasant orphans were taught numbers, let alone how to interpret calendars well enough to mark the passing of years.

It was the first ship you’d ever seen up close—sleek, and salt-stained, and creaking beneath your toes. The Boy King at its helm had turned his nose up at you in his too big coat, with his too big boots and tricorn hat that kept slipping down over his eyes. It was a ragtag crew that you’d wandered into, made of nothing but runaways and street rats. The ship itself was just as unusual and fresh-faced. It was built in a very impractical sort of way, with hallways that led to nowhere and portholes that opened up into endless seas of shadow where you could tumble down, down, down for hours and never see an end (or so you’d been warned). There were paintings on the walls, all off-centered and hanging on crooked nails that wobbled with every dip in the waves. The masts and rails were stained a deep, bloody red, in honor of its title. And no matter how the raging winds and waves battered at those petals, your Captain would have you out there the next morning to paint them anew. The Rose Queen was the finest pirate ship in all the ocean, and you only half-said that out of personal bias.

The vessel of the Silver Songbirds was… not like that.

It was grand, certainly. But there was a barren cleanliness to it that didn’t feel lived in. Sure, Riddle’d had you literally scrubbing stains out of the deck with a toothbrush and pot of turpentine, but this was different. Sterile, rather than squeaky. The wood planks didn’t whine with a weary, seaworthy groan beneath your feet that you could feel through the heel of your boots—as if to reassure you it was there. The air smelled of salt, sure, and you could see a group of gulls circling overhead, but the whole of it felt… empty. Lonely.

The black haired man led you to a small, private room in the ship’s hull. That alone was strange. You’d been sharing quarters for the whole of your seafaring career. This new little suite of yours had a bed, and white paint on the walls, and a porthole for a window. He gently coaxed you into sitting at the foot of the mattress and readjusted the coat resting along your shoulders. His smile was soft, kind. The sort of warm, pretty expression that you could read about in a love poem.

You remembered your Siren’s vicious, pointed smirk—red, and haughty, and sharp enough to cut glass—and fought a pang of something you absolutely refused to put a name to.

When you blinked back into focus, his lips were moving in a slow, steady flow and you focused your best on the shape of them. It was hard, with how placid his expression was—with how little there was to make out of anything he was attempting to get across. And whether it be your furrowed brow or a sudden memory that oh right, you’d told him your ears worked as well as a three-legged horse pulling a one-wheeled cart, he startled into silence. His face twisted up with chagrin, and he offered you an apologetic smile with round, pink cheeks.

He fumbled around in his pockets for a piece of paper and scribbled out a hasty note to press into your palms.

‘My name is Neige Leblanche, and I’ll be taking care of you for this journey.’

You paused, fingers worrying at the sides of the neat, square bit of parchment. It felt right to offer your own name in return. That would be the polite thing, surely. But you paused, throat tight with uncertainty and a prickling, unpleasant sort of heat. Because you’d never even told your Siren your name, had you? Not even once.

And beneath that sudden, sour gut punch was something else.

‘Rule 116, your name is not a number, but it is your value. Do not offer it to any whose own interests are undue.’

The first time Ace had found himself with a wanted poster (‘Ugly,’ he’d complained, bitter. ‘How am I supposed to hook any tail with this? I look like a mutant potato. This stupid portrait is worse than prison.’), Riddle had taken your handwritten Book of Rules and underlined that one thrice over. You hadn’t thought much of it until you’d had to cut a hangman’s noose from around your idiot, foxy friend’s throat—the handiwork of the tavern folk he’d been boasting to only an afternoon before. And then it had made sense. Ace had survived (with a new, grand tale of woe that he liked to repeat ad nauseum until you wished you’d left him strung up), but the lesson had remained.

Carefully you swallowed the words resting on your tongue and offered a polite-ish nod in their place.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Thank you. For saving me.”

Neige shook his head in a panicked sort of rush, hands waving back and forth with a clear ‘none of that! None of that!’ before reaching back into his pockets to search for another note.

‘It was my honor,’ he wrote, words jumbled and sloppy in his haste. ‘It’s the duty of all officers to help those in need.’

Your brow pinched. Officer? Officer of what?

Your Siren had called these Songbirds dangerous. ‘Not safe’ written into the sand over and over again with his curled claws. You didn’t know much of mainland politics and other such nonsense, but maybe there was some sort of… Siren Hunting Order? Soldiers of the King sent out to scour the seas and keep them safe for a host of weary, would-be-merman-meals? That would make sense. It would make a lot of sense, actually.

Another note was pressed into your hands.

‘How did you end up stranded on that island?’

Islet, you wanted to correct petulantly. Riddle would have. Your Siren would have.

You opened your mouth and hesitated. Telling Nigel, or Nergal, or whatever his name was that your ship had been besieged by a pod of ravenous mers (and one fair-faced asshole who you already missed far, far too—) was as good as serving them up on a silver platter, wasn’t it? Siren hunters probably traded information like how pirates traded maps or merchants traded gold. And you’d be damned if your loose tongue was what led to your friend companion co-strandee’s family being hunted for sport just after he’d finally managed to make his way home again.

So you stiffened your upper lip and turned to look your savior in the eye.

“I fell overboard,” you said, firm. “Because I’m an idiot.”

He blinked, startled, and you could recognize the spluttered ‘…oh’ shaping his lips.

He handed you another scribbled bit of parchment, gaze averted and awkward.

‘I’m sorry.’

“Never apologize to the half-wit for whatever fallacy of their own led to them falling into the pit,” you recited naturally, and Nigel startled. His doe eyes went round with confusion and he tilted his head at you like a curious hound. Nothing intimidating, more like some kind of fluffy cocker spaniel or primped up lapdog staring up at you with too-long-lashes and too-few-thoughts.

You shrugged.

“Just a rule I was supposed to follow,” you shrugged off. You offered a slanted grin. “Though when you’re the idiot in question, it can be pretty hard to avoid.”

Neville smiled at you with a soft sort of laugh that you swore you could feel dancing along your skin.

Another note.

‘I’ll be back in a bit. Please enjoy the amenities here and get some rest. If you need anything, let us know and I’ll get it sorted personally.’

You dipped your chin in thanks and collapsed back against the small, flat mattress in the corner. It was soft, sturdy, probably good for your back and all that nonsense. The sheets were crisp and white, and they rubbed blandly at your weary hide. You could smell the lingering, sharp fragrance of some kind of tacky soap in the cotton. Totally not unpleasant at all. Theoretically, it should have actually been the best bed you’d ever slept in. But a part of you missed swaying back and forth in a net hammock, and an even bigger part missed plopping down in the sand with the heat of a crackling fire at your front and the even steadier warmth of the long, curling, press of gemstone scales at your back.

You flopped over onto your side and stared at the empty, carefully manicured surface of the desk opposite you and wished more than anything that you’d brought your shell.

.

.

The room was cold when you next woke, and you shivered into the jacket Neige had draped along your shoulders (because it was ‘Neige.’ It had been signed on the bottom of the note he’d left you that morning alongside your breakfast. Which was stupid. The dumbest name you’d ever heard). The starched fabric of it all wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than shivering through the chilly ocean mists that were seeping in through the porthole.

You burrowed into the swathe of white and blue wool like a rabbit in a hole, and then winced in irritation when another of those stupid, gaudy pins dug into your cheek.

You plucked the first from its place—the duo of silver songbirds. It really was quite pretty, despite the ominous undertones and all. Two, graceful, delicate sets of feathered wings arching up into the sky—forever frozen in a dance to the clouds. You dropped it into the little, dark crevice between your bed and the wall. Good riddance.

Next came a crest that was familiar in a distant sort of way—a memory that tickled that back of your brain from days long past. You hadn’t noticed it before, what with the echoes of ‘not safe, not safe, not safe’ blaring in your head like an alarm, but it was just as neatly polished as the birds pinned above. It was diamond shaped, the edges embossed in twining lines like the cut of a rope. At its head sat a strange sort of crown, with the arches and more familiar pointed designs replaced by the billowing arcs of sails.  All of that gallantry surrounded a pair of rearing stallions—hooves crossed along a golden edged sword and circled with blue ivy.

You twisted it between your fingers, watching the metal glint in the low light. You hadn’t set foot in proper society since Riddle had let your young, dumb self abscond into the ocean all those years ago. You could hardly remember the flag of our home country, let alone the specifics.

You frowned and the edges of the badge pricked at your fingers.

You dropped this one behind the bed too, with a petulant flick of your wrist to make sure it really stuck.

.

.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often, there’s some business I’ve been having to take care of.’

You handed the note back with a shrug.

“It’s no bother.”

Neige offered an apologetic grimace nonetheless and another of those smiles that looked a bit too sweet to be real.

‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’

You bristled before you could help it, thoughts spiraling away to harpoons, and nets, and hunting parties. And then you settled your shoulders into a polite, easy line and offered one of your own too-put-together smiles in return.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, you saved me after all.”

Neige smiled again, easy and comfortable, and pressed another slip of parchment into your palms.

‘Where were you headed? When you fell overboard?’

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck you with a barbed cactus branch dipped in—

Ahem.

You cleared your throat in a way that was surely a Very Normal Person Thing To Do, and tried to ignore the fact that he was so brazenly attempting to map out his plan of attack—to pinpoint the route that the sirens had been chasing and run after it like hounds tracking a fresh scent. Which, to be fair, sirens were a scourge on the seas. Hundreds upon hundreds of good men and women had been lost to their crooning songs and wickedly sharp teeth. They were vicious, often cruel, and so much stronger than any mortal sailor that of course the world above would fear them. You’d been very much of the same opinion until only quite recently, and now—now you just couldn’t.

“I don’t know where we were going,” you lied, and Neige’s brow pinched in a dour, rejected kind of way. “But,” you tried, sprinkling in a touch of truth to make the lie go down easier, “I know we were coming from Port o'Bliss.”

He nodded, that uncongenial expression slipping off his face as easily as it’d settled there.

He rattled off something quick and bubbly, and you pointedly arched a brow. The brunette blushed bright pink and hastily scrabbled for another bit of paper.

‘Thank you for being so helpful. I know it can’t be easy.’

Your neutral expression froze on your face and when you smiled it felt more like a polite bearing of teeth. Did he know? Could he see right through you? Or worse, was he getting all the answers he wanted from you either way, no matter how you tried to coat it in a veneer of misdirection.

“Sure thing.”

He handed you another note, this time for his pocket. Crumpled and soft, the ink a bit smeared along the curling letters.

‘It’s a poor choice to help a heron at high noon,’ it said, ‘but it will certainly appreciate you if you do. So my thanks to you.’

Something settled in your gut at the familiarity, something deceptively warm and homey.

“It’s a hare,” you said, without much thought. “Not a heron.”

Neige nodded with a polite, smiling mumble that looked like another apology, and then left you to your own devices.

That night, a veritable feast was delivered to your tiny, white-walled cabin. A grand spread of food fit for a king. There was roasted fowl, pools of thick, spiced gravies, mountains of vegetables that you’d never even seen before. And tarts. So many colorful, fruity tarts that were so sweet they almost made your tongue curl.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked as Neige took a seat at your desk to nibble at the meal alongside you—a cloth napkin folded neatly across his nap and a clear glass flute for wine placed a bit precariously by his elbow.

He smiled, honey warm, and offered you another note.

‘For helping the hare.’

.

.

Neige didn’t come to visit you the next morning, and his absence had the hair at the nape of your neck standing on end.

You paced and paced around your cube of a barrack. It was maybe four steps from one end to the next, but the constant bumping your toes against the wall was better than just sitting there doing nothing. The worst part was the silence. Not the one in your head. Yes, yes, you were more than used to that. On and on, yada yada. But the silence of the ship. The Rose Queen had always felt like a living thing, a great, wooden beast with a pulse you could feel thrumming beneath your toes, your palms. All you had to do was lay a hand against its side and you could feel the rumble of the tide beyond, the rushing footsteps of sailors sprinting about to meet one of Riddle’s orders or other, the thump of heavy, wet mop heads smacking the deck overhead. It was quiet, but it wasn’t quiet. This ship? No matter how you laid against the boards or pressed flat to the walls, there was nothing. And it made you feel like you were trapped aboard a vessel full of ghosts.

The sun had long begun to set by the time Neige returned, and by then you were nothing but a livewire of nerves.

Had they found him? Your Siren? Was he there somewhere, just a few floors above—strung up like a fish in a net? Caught and displayed like a fine trophy? Or had they killed him outright? Had they found his pod? Had he put up a fight? Had he—

A piece of rolled parchment was held out for you to take, a satin blue ribbon tied along its belly. Neige’s soft, brown gaze was glued to the floor and you snatched the paper from his hands like a rabid cat and tore it open. You could barely keep your eyes steady to read it all—fine, pointed print done up in a neat hand.

‘—danger to those who venture—'

‘—for the safety of the people—’

‘—therefore, the decision has been made—'

‘—with the greatest consideration—’

‘—with immediate effect—'

‘—we have declared the extermination of—'

“You can’t!” you wailed, and Neige’s doe eyes darted up to yours and immediately away once more in guilt. “He’s—he’s not bad. I swear! I know how things look—and—and I know he’s not—that’s he’s a—but you can’t—”

Neige’s wavering stared jumped back to you in open surprise, and you saw his lips twitch on one word—delicate brows pinching in question.

‘He?’

You frowned and fought the urge to stomp your feet. Because, okay, fine. Sure, you were arguing tooth and nail for someone whose name you maybe didn’t even know. Someone who had swum away from your stupidly sentimental ass with all the power and grace of a beast fit to rule the depths of the oceans while you could barely flounder at its surface. And sure, sirens killed people and ate them. But this one was—he was special, and you’d be damned if you let some primped up fishermen try to reel him in on a hook just because he’d maybe eaten a few people. And—

There was a hand on your shoulder, and Neige was staring down at you with an expression not dissimilar to that of a parent about to tell their child that the cat had got out and met a terrible, squishy end beneath the wheels of your neighbor’s carriage. He sighed, dark lashes brushing along his cheeks, and then reached out with his other hand to tap a finger between your collar bones.

“What?” you snapped, and he tapped again. “Me? What about me?”

He paused, gaze meeting yours with a pointed sort of melancholy.

Oh.

Oh.

You remembered the pins you’d dropped behind your bed, one by one. You remembered the strange coat of arms crowned with golden sails and bearing a great, shining sword. Something regal, something imperial that a commoner like you would have only caught fleeting glimpses of in parades, and marches, and war calls.

Something like, say, Pyroxene’s Royal Naval Fleet.

You glanced down at the parchment again, crumpled between your fists, and smoothed it out into something legible beneath your fingers. You reread the text with careful focus.

‘For the Crime of Piracy’ it said. Right at the tippity top. In red ink.

“…ah,” you blinked. “That makes a lot more sense.”

.

.

You were to walk the plank on the ‘morrow.

Which honestly, you hadn’t even thought was really a Thing—walking the plank, argh. Fiddly dee and a yo-ho-ho. That sort of storybook nonsense. The parables that parents passed onto their children to try and scare them away from a life of villainy. Real pirates were put to the rack, or hanged in the town squares to scare the adults away from doing the same.

But you supposed it was practical, at least. Blood was hard to scrub out of wooden decks, so beheading would have been a bit of a mess. Bullets were best to be conserved out on the high seas where stocks were already low, and honestly, your body would just have to be thrown overboard anyways before it stunk up the barracks. So, like, doing it all in one would be quite efficient. You could appreciate that. 

Your hands would be bound at your back and you’d be given three breaths, three steps, and then you’d be tumbling down into the waves below. Claimed by the waters that you’d patrolled for so many years now. Fitting, honestly. Riddle would be proud (beneath the raging, spitting indignation of you being caught at all, but that was another matter). At least you wouldn’t be going out from food poisoning or something mundane like that, so that was a win. And who knew. Maybe your Siren would find you again when you were nestled to rest in some seabed not too far from here, and he could finally make a meal of your dumb ass yet. Happy endings abound.

You wondered idly at the dual branches of fate you’d wandered along in these past weeks, and if it would have been better to hide away when you’d first seen those sails on the horizon. To keep to the little, crescent island you’d found yourself on and slowly starved to death. Alone, abandoned, and sitting in a forever stillness worse than any silence you’d known before.  Forever staring out over the horizon for a glance of amethyst fins that you knew you’d never see again.

If given the choice between the two, you’d take the plank.

.

Neige brought you another feast that night, and you gorged on it merrily. 

When he nervously kept piling your plate with choice cuts after choice cuts, gaze diverted to the floor and looking like a kicked puppy dog with its tail between its legs, you rolled your eyes and swatted at his fingers.

“Unclench yourself,” you huffed, and he puffed up stuttery and pink in horror. ��It’s not the end of the world. You’re just doing your job, right? If we’d met under different circumstances I bet I would have shot you first. So, really. All’s fair.”

He worried his lower lip between his teeth, guilt still swimming heavy and warm in those doe eyes of his.

He said something under his breath, something that you’d bet even if your ears were working at full capacity you wouldn’t have been able to parse out. He leaned forward to scrawl a note on the napkin beside your plate.

‘You’re happier now? After all this? I don’t get it.’

You reached out to pat him merrily on the shoulder, more a smack smack smack then anything really pleasant. He could see him fighting a wince with all the trembling sort of bravery of a field mouse. Poor dear. What was the Royal Navy thinking? Hiring on someone who looked like they belonged on an advert for rouge and sweets. This was the last face a pirate was expected to jeer into? This one? Really? It was a wonder this little, squirrely man hadn’t keeled over the first time someone spat on his boots.

“It’s a poor choice to help the fish at high noon,” you said around a mouthful of crumbs. “But it’s my choice. And I’m happy to do it.”

“Fish?” you saw him mouth, brow pinched, and you batted at his shoulder again before reaching for another of those too-sweet tarts.

.

.

There was a whole procession for your execution. With speeches. Which even with the slowly encroaching panic worming into your guts, you couldn’t help but think was at least a little funny.  

The whole crew was lined up in solemn formation, listening stalwartly to some judge, or high ranking officer, or whatever rattle off who even knew what. Your crimes? A homily? The lunch menu? Fuck if you had any clue. And you were the one being fed to the sharks. There had to be some joke hidden in here, right? The scoundrel pirate who could never be tried, simply because they couldn’t hear their own sentencing. You wouldn’t even know when to stand up and shout ‘I object!’ It would probably be pretty funny, right? If you just did that out of nowhere. And what was the worst that could happen? Oh, no. A fine. Please, sir. Add it to the list of debts I owe from beyond my watery grave. Amen.

A hand at your lower back gave you a gentle nudge forward and you shifted against the ropes binding your wrists. They were nicer than your own stores aboard the Rose Queen. Not nearly as itchy, the fibers neat and clearly expensive. Neige stepped up beside you and offered you a look that was likely meant to be kind, but your growing nerves had started to eat through your willingness to play friendly. You could feel the weight of the crew around you, even if you couldn’t hear them. The creak of the deck beneath your toes as they shifted about, the way their bulk must have been shielding you from the worst of the wind. Unlike with your own mismatched family of castaways, their presence wasn’t reassuring. And you kept your eyes locked forward and away from the field of sharp gazes eating into your hide.

The plank was narrow, and immediately you were fighting the urge to sway on your toes. Having your hands bound at your rear only made it worse. It threw off the whole of your center of gravity and had you feeling dizzy and seasick.

You took one breath, stuttery, and one step. The wood whined beneath your heels in a vibration you could feel all the way up to your knees.

Another breath, another step. You could feel the salt soaked board starting to bend now. Clearly it wasn’t meant to support much of anything, let alone a whole person. And for some reason the idea of it breaking beneath you was so much worse than taking that last step all on your own. A sudden plunge that was out of your control. It had your heart hammering in your throat and cold nausea bubbling in your belly.

You looked down. You didn’t want to, but it was like your gaze was a weighted, magnetic thing. Pulled down into the salty depths below. The water looked rougher than it had a moment ago, or maybe you were just really starting to panic. You could see the white froth of the wake breaking against the ship’s hull. It churned like the start of a storm, which was really, terribly inconvenient. Seeing as it’d been so still and calm just a few minutes before. And, y’know, the fact that you had to fall into that mess of sharp peaks and rocking waves. You swore you could see dark shapes flitting about just beneath the surface, a flash of grey, or maybe green. It was hard to tell, with the brightness of the early morning sun in your eyes.

No one was poking at your back, urging you forward, which you thought was quite odd. You’d been taking your sweet ol’ time sauntering to your demise. You’d assumed they’d have less patience for a pirate with cold feet. Instead, the world around you was just silent and still. Shifting with the raging waves below, but empty and quiet as a tomb for all you knew otherwise.

You took your last breath, your last step.

And then the ship lurched and you were plummeting towards the water. The dissonance between having something beneath your feet—no matter how frail—and then nothing was jarring, and it had you gasping on impulse. Hair whipping at your cheeks and lungs squeezing tight as the air screamed past your throat. It felt like you were drowning before you even hit the water.

When you did finally crash into the waves, it hurt. You’d always been a fairly proficient swimmer, but whether it be the mind numbing panic or the ropes binding you tight, tight, tight, you just started to sink. The salt stung like an open wound, and the water was cold. Frigid. Like being tossed into the jagged side of a glacier. You at least had the sense not to gulp down a mouthful of water out of reflex, but that didn’t make things much better.

You screwed your eyes shut, bubbles frothing at your nose, and tried to find that peace that you’d clung to all night long. A life for a life, one catch for another. No one was going to miss you anyways. And if you had to meet the reaper some way, then of all the ends the universe could have spun for you, at least this one had some meaning to it.

You sighed into the darkness, soft, but when your lips parted next around what should have been a mouthful of icy saltwater, all you could taste was air.

Your eyes shot open in the gloom to a mess of familiar golds and purples that you’d thought you’d never see again.

Your Siren pulled back, bubbles curling from the edge of his lips into a soft stream of warmth between the two of you. Nestling as deep as a full breath all the way in the tightest corners of your lungs. You could feel the dip of his claws as he settled his hands at your shoulders—keeping you in place. And immediately you shrieked and flailed in your bindings.

“You—!”

You promptly choked on another mouthful of sea water and your Siren wailed—all that molten fondness in those lovely amethyst eyes of his sharpening into familiar, pissy exasperation from one second to the next. He dragged your face back to his, slotting his mouth against yours and pushing more air into your lungs. You leaned into it before you could help yourself. Half for the whole oxygen thing, and half, because, well—

When he pulled away this time he smacked a hand over your mouth with a sneer, his thumb and index finger hooked upward to pinch at your nose. He jabbed a claw in your face with a clear ‘stay put’ and immediately went to work cutting through the bindings twined along your arms. The ropes fell away beneath his talons like butter to a hot blade, and he fretfully ran his palms up and down your limbs—looking for any stray bits of netting like a compulsion. Once he seemed certain that you’d been properly freed from your ties, he hauled you up against his chest in a grip that had you losing all the air in your lungs all over again. You could feel the cool jut of the sea glass around his neck pressing into your collar, and he buried his head down into your throat until you didn’t know where he ended and you began. The frills of his tail fluttered in the water, and the bulk of those twining strands curled up and around your legs like a barnacle.

He was warm. Warmer than you’d been expecting, for a creature who spent his life patrolling the darkest depths of the ocean. It wasn’t the same sort of heat that would beat off a human’s hide, but it was more comforting than any you’d ever known. You burrowed down against his shoulder, nose scrunching against the side of his neck and the fins at his ears brushing your temple. You could feel his claws flexing at your sides, feel the shift of his scales against your skin. And just as your lungs were starting to burn, he ducked forward to pull you into another kiss—filling your chest with wonderful, wonderful oxygen all over again.

You blinked blearily past the sting of salt in your eyes and he scrubbed a thumb against your cheek.

Now that those high, wonderful, heart bursting emotions were settling back into something manageable beneath your ribs, you took a moment to look at him. Really look at him. Because you’d sent him on his way, hadn’t you? Waved him off with well wishes and a hope for his happiness. And all that aside, how had he even managed to find you—

Bubbles streamed from your nose as that newest shared breath began to run dry, and your Siren hooked an arm around your waist to propel you upwards.

You crested the surface with a gasp, paddling instinctively against the churning wake. When all that did was leave you smack, smack, smacking at your Siren’s chest like a flailing toddler, he hissed—a spitting, pissy thing you could feel on the breeze—and hauled you back up against him. Just like he had all those times you’d swum together in your cove. You forced yourself to settle, bobbing gently against the tide as he kept you both aloft.

Once your body had managed to catch up with your brain to realize that it was, in fact, not drowning, all of the adrenaline rushed out of you like a broken spicket. You slumped against the Siren’s chest, fuzzy headed and dizzy. Because he’d saved you. Which made no sense in the least. But you’d almost died, and he’d saved you—

Your gaze drifted back up to the ship from which you’d only so recently taken your Cannonball of Doom and startled.

There was blood everywhere.

Staining the railings, splashed along the low flying flags, dripping along the deck. A macabre mess of gore and claw marks gutting the once grand vessel like a beached whale. Some of the crew still seemed to be hanging onto the life rafts, others were taking running leaps into the water like they were under compulsion—eyes glazed over and distant. There was a prickling all along your skin, something twisting familiar and strange in your gut, and oh. Oh.

One of the grander looking officers (the one who had been giving your pre-execution speech, perhaps? He looked similar enough) was shouting something from his place at the bow of one of the life rafts—arm extended in a grand show of valor and sword glinting into the light of the morning. And then a great, emerald siren was rearing over the side of that tiny vessel with a sharp grin on his face and sharper talons on display. The officer was dragged overboard, and the siren’s tail came down on the guardrails with a force that had the wood splintering and the already haphazard little boat rock, rock, rocking until it caught on a high wave and capsized.

You could see the flash of colorful scales and the tips of even brighter fins all around. Cresting above the water just long enough to grab hold of another wailing victim and drag them down to the depths. There was enough blood in the water that you could smell it. Acrid and copper against the ocean’s already sharp, salty musk. And sure, you were a pirate. You’d been in raids, you’d seen death. Plenty of it. But this. Well. It was unfamiliar. In a strange, detached sort of way. These assholes had chucked you overboard, after all. So you only really had a teensy, tiny pinch of sympathy for the fact that being eaten alive probably hurt like a sonofabitch.

It was more strange, you supposed, to be at the center of a sirens’ hunt and not be the one facing down the angry, bitey end.

You kicked in the water, nose scrunching when the red tide lapped against your chin.

“This isn’t going to attract sharks, is it?”

Because if you were saved from drowning at the hands of a royal militia only to wind up as a fish’s dinner, you would be terribly annoyed.

Your Siren rolled his eyes at you, like you were just the most ridiculous and stupid creature in all of creation. And then he made a languid swipe of his large, fully-healed tail and began to swim away from the literal bloodbath he and his pod had wrought. With you and all your silly, fragile humanness in tow.

It was far too relaxing, being pulled along against his side. The gentle rocking of his tail beneath you as he swam at the surface—always ensuring to keep your head above the water as he did so. You could feel your eyes starting to dip, feel a yawn cracking along your lips. Maybe it was just the adrenaline crash hitting, or maybe it was the relief that you hadn’t even wanted to address. He’d come back. For you.

The earless pirate who never seemed to do much but stumble into one conundrum after another. Who had only annoyed him at best and shorn his fins to shredded, useless bits at worst. Who had thrown shells at his head and only nicked him a little when you cut the ropes from his hide.

Who had made him human foods with fire and taught him your language in a messy scrawl of sand and snark. Who swam with him in the bay and twined a necklace of shining, purple sea glass around his neck. Who braided his hair, and laughed at his pouting, and—

There was a rough roll of surf that splashed in your face and you spluttered against the white froth.

The Siren paused and beat his tail against the deeper waters, propping you upright as you hacked and fretfully patting at your back. You could see his mouth moving as he mumbled something, brow pinched, and stared back at him with your own wobbly frown—confused.

“Why did you come back?” you asked, and the Siren’s brows jumped up into his hairline. He looked startled, genuinely. And that only had you even more befuddled. “And how did you even find me?”

This time when he huffed, there was a subtle sort of irritation there that you’d learn to recognize well.

He was pouting.

Something brushed against your fingers in the water, soft and fleeting. You glanced down just in time to catch a blur of lavender flitting nervously below the choppy waves, never dipping close enough again to touch, but looking hesitant to keep much further either.

The Siren followed your gaze only to narrow his eyes, pointed teeth bared as he swatted at the poor, round, little octopus with his tail. A clear shoo, shoo if you’d ever seen one. The octopus squeaked, sending bubbles spiraling in all directions, and frantically looped out of the way of the mer’s petulant tantrum. You whacked him right back, indignant on your teeny friend’s behalf. Because—!

“You followed me,” you burbled, and the little octopus spun in a fretful circle. If you didn’t know better, you’d say the poor, little dear was wringing its hands. Your Siren bared his teeth and smacked out again. “Hey! Don’t be an ass! He saved me,” you argued, and your bitch of a merman just snapped his fangs in your face like a feral cat.

You gawked.

“No way. You can’t be annoyed that you were beat out by a baby, purple octopus the size of an orange.”

He huffed and turned up his nose, and you burst out into laughter for the first time since you’d watched him swim out of your cove all those days ago.

You laughed and laughed until tears were beading at the corners of your eyes, and your Siren was grumbling in complaint and pinching your sides with his curved claws. There wasn’t real malevolence in that stern glare of his, though—just more of the prickly, teasing sort of snide side eye he’d given you in your latter weeks together. Fondness, you realized. That’s what was softening it all. The same sort of warmth you held for him.

Your favorite, pissy, preening, self-righteous goldfish.

You snorted into his shoulder, still shaking on giggles, and you could feel his sigh against your temple. You burrowed down against his side, feeling his fins brush along your hips as he kept the both of you afloat.

“Thanks,” you said, soft. “For coming back.”

You were expecting another melodramatic sigh, another plaintive roll of the eyes. Instead, his fingers came up to twine with yours and tugged your hand to rest against the pendant at his throat. You blinked, confused, and he just curled your palm around that little, sand-smoothed piece of glass.

You arched a brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

This time he did roll his eyes at you, and when he spoke he mouthed the word dramatic and wide so he was sure that you could see it.

‘Moron.’

You whined in complaint and smacked his fingers away. “But I’m your moron.”

Another huff, soft against the nape of your neck. And you could see the barest twitch of a smile on his red lips as he turned back into the tide and continued his trek home.

.

.

.

[TAG LIST - CLOSED]

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[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: hybrids, hare hybrid König afab! reader

summary: hare hybrid könig, anyone? mostly a joke fic that's been spinning in my head for a few months

So you're the picture perfect cottage core, forest living gal. Real off the grid - well, sort of, everyone needs their WiFi, right? Anyways you're up there with your little vegetable garden, spending most of your days roaming the forest and foraging. If you're not doing that, you're gardening. Little did you know..there's a hare in the woods. A big one too. You've heard the rumors from passing travelers - rumors that were big hybrids up in these woods. Horror stories too, sounds at night and the typical scary stuff that makes you sleep with your head under a blanket and a knife tucked under your pillow.

You weren't stupid - not to your own terms, anyways - but you were maybe a bit naïve. Especially when one early morning you wake up to the noise of something scritching at your door. So you tip toe your way to the door, knife tucked behind your leg and your bare feet quietly stepping on the planks that didn't creak. You check the peep hole...and nothing? Clearly, you've never watched a horror movie either. Because you open the got damn door and are met with the wide-eyed sight of a man sitting his ass down before the door. He was cute, maybe even a little disturbing. Wide uncanny eyes, freakishly fucking long. At first, you really did thing you had finally come across one of those cryptids you heard about online. And then he snuffled, nuzzling his face into your hip.

And like any living being with a soul, you took him in. Apparently, his name was König. He was very clearly a hare hybrid from hell. Ate whatever you fed him and ten times more. Also practically lived in your warmth. Occasionally tried to piss places he shouldn't, which met the wrath of your flying shoe. "Are you gonna let go?" You ask one day while you're gardening. He had been hugging you from behind for three hours now. It was cute at first..but it was getting a bit ridiculous.

"No." König rasped. His voice boyish and a bit raspy. But his words were enough to quickly end the conversation.

You also did try to kick him out in the past, gently, of course. Mostly little shoves about how it was spring and there were probably lots of yummy berries and vegetables sprouting up already. But he just kinda grunted and continued to nibble at the fucking rib-eye steak you made for yourself. Greedy bastard. It wasn't all bad though. Occasionally at night König would tuck you in real close to his chest, and he smelt pretty nice! His heart was always pounding rapidly. He'd nuzzle and sniff at you gently, which honestly was kinda nice when you were having trouble falling asleep.

"You smell good." You mumble, staring up at his wide eyed expression. König would chuff back at you, nibbling your flesh gently. "Because you are my girlfriend" "Oh! Yeah. That makes a lot of sense." "Wait..what?"

this was a not a joke fic please write more hare hybrid konig

[lixopoo]

Hello! I really like your posts, in particular the Belle one. Can you please do a zzz Nicole x S/O who left the Cunning Hares? Sorry if it’s long but I got in the zone. Like the S/O was a cofounder but left due to disagreements to how the agency is ran. Cue to Anby and Billy after a while of the agency being mismanaged tries to get you back in. You tried to doing one but it didn’t work out as you need her all or nothing approach, but on the other hand she needs you to reel her in. They manage to do it by tricking you two by making y’all think there was going to be a hangout but by the meet up time there’s only you two. There’s arguing but it’s let out accidentally that you like each other. After that it’s more of there being a talk to let things out what you two are and work it out as the agency you both created is both of yours baby in the end of the day.

✶ Nicole Demara dating headcanons w backstory!

⇢ Nicole Demara x gn!reader ;

⇢ type - headcanons ;

⇢ tags - fluff , little bit angst(?) , kisses , hugs ;

⇢ thanks for request! i love Nicole so much, so im glad you ordered her but it seems to me that it turned out worse than i imagined, sorry!

⋆ You and Nicole were close even before the creation of the agency, from the orphanage, since you were also an orphan. You have always envied her cunning character and how easily any task is given to her, deep down I want to become the same.

⋆ Time passed, and one family was able to adopt you, thereby taking you from the orphanage, but it all happened so suddenly that you were unable to say goodbye to Nicole, thereby leaving her completely alone. You were very sad, as was she, but a year later, walking down the street, you saw her again.

⋆ She was incredibly happy to see you, but you are stronger, so you just almost knocked her off her feet with your hugs.

⋆ Hearing the story of how she was adopted by a rich family and then made a deal with them to hang around the streets of New Eridu, you were surprised, but immediately laughed, because Nicole, who was in the orphanage has not changed a bit.

⋆ After some time, her love for money and cunning only grew, so you decided to create your own agency to help the residents of New Eridu and earn a good income.

⋆ After joining the agency of Anby and Billy the Kid, your days only became more fun and interesting, but the fact that all the money Nicole earned was turning into a minus was very alarming to you. You turned a blind eye to this, because she was the initiator of the creation of the Sly Hares, which means her money... probably?

⋆ You tried to talk to her about this topic many times, but she only avoided the conversation, calling you cute nicknames to appease you.

⋆ After another conversation with Phaeton about the order, you learned about the debts that Nicole did not mention. This was the last straw, because spending the money that the four of you earned so easily is unacceptable.

⋆ You decided to have one last conversation with Nicole on this topic when you were alone, but the result was the same, which made you even angrier.

«I'm leaving Cunning Hares»

⋆ Trembling, Nicole turned around to look at you, but saw no one. You disappeared in the same way as you did at the shelter, leaving her alone again.

⋆ For the next week, Nicole was irritated and upset at the same time, not wanting to see you at all, even though it was obvious how much she missed you.

⋆ Anby and Billy were surprised by your unexpected departure, which made them very upset. They tried to find you and just talk, but, unfortunately, you were nowhere to be found.

⋆ You decided to do easy tasks on your own to earn money, so you spent all your time either in Hollow or in places they didn’t look into.

⋆ But you couldn’t hide for long, because while playing slot machines, you accidentally met Billy, who was hanging out there, and Anby was nearby.

⋆ They were incredibly happy to see you, almost pouncing and knocking you down. Billy bombarded you with questions, which you reluctantly answered, but told you the reason for leaving.

⋆ You hung out together for a little longer before breaking up and asking her not to tell Nicole that they saw you. After which Anby immediately had a plan in her head, which she immediately told Billy.

⋆ Two days later you met them again near the slot machines, but this time you had a little more fun, after which they suddenly invited you to a “farewell party” in your honor, mentioning that, of course, Nicole wouldn’t be there and the three of you would just have fun.

⋆ Although it seemed strange to you, you were not going to refuse them. You accepted their offer and waited for the next day.

⋆ Arriving at the meeting place - a newly opened cafe, you were surprised that it was so empty inside, but you went inside anyway and sat down at the nearest table, waiting for Billy and Anby, but imagine your surprise when you saw Nicole on the threshold.

⋆ You immediately jumped up from your chair and she noticed you. You just stared at each other for a minute before she looked away with a frown.

⋆ She wanted to run away, but something stopped her, just like you, because deep down you weren’t the least bit angry at each other, only at yourself.

⋆ Realizing that Enby and Billy had simply set you up, you both got a little angry, but you knew that they meant what was best, so you just sat down at the table in silence, starting a game of silence.

⋆ You were the first to start a conversation, again remembering how naively she was throwing away the agency’s money, without thinking about others. Of course, this angered her even more, because she didn’t want to talk about it. Slamming her hands on the table and standing up, she leaned over a little to be closer to you.

«I did this for the agency, don’t you understand?! You know how dear it is to me... As dear as you!»

⋆ You knew this very well, but you still had a strange feeling. You continued your little argument until she openly admitted her feelings, immediately realizing what she said and blushing.

⋆ You stared at her with your mouth open for a few seconds before you too blushed and looked away.

«I...»

«No! Just... I want you to come back!»

⋆ Her eyes became wet, and Nicole herself just wanted to run away. You smiled faintly, seeing the real Nicole was rare. Slowly standing up and walking over to her, you hugged her from the side, beginning to calm her down.

«I love you too»

⋆ A couple of minutes later, you were already sitting next to her, holding her hand, and talking casually. You decided to return back to the agency, but on the condition that you would manage the money, since you had more financial literacy.

⋆ She is possessive, so her hugs are tight and warm enough to make you feel safe. She will always make some kind of contact with you in public, whether it's holding your hand or kissing you.

⋆ She kisses you often, so your lips are always the same color as her lipstick. Her kisses are as possessive as her hugs, but light and full of love.

⋆ Despite even the small quarrels between you, she loves you and does not want you to leave her alone again.

actually i think this is my worst work because it was difficult for me...

[trendywaifus]

Awhahah Nicole makes me wanna (s)cream imagine her being in charge and her liking being called boss

nicole loves to be in charge, she is the leader of the infamous cunning hares after all and she has a big ass ego. in private though, that proud facade of hers becomes a little flimsy to temptation—especially when you’re submissive under her. cw: gn with a dick, teasing, foot job, girlfailure and girlboss nicole!

“ where’s all that talk now, huh? “

the heel of nicole’s foot meanly digs into the growing tent in your pants. laid out on your back near the end of her bed, legs hanging from the mattress, you squirm and groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. your back arches, hips shamelessly buckling to the dry friction of her bare foot. cheeks red, nicole sneers at your groaning, resting her hands on her hips. “ y-you can’t bark about how you would be the better leader of the cunning hares and all it took for you to submit was by me doing this, “ nicole adds more pressure to your bulge, provoking a loud half-moan from you. what a loser you are, complaining and jabbing at her leadership because of some stupid ass agent not giving detailed considerations for the commission. they nearly got ambushed by hollows because of him, not her.

you’re such a loser—a loser who looks easy to take apart with just the work of her hands. a loser who would look so appetizing submissive and begging for her forgiveness. although the thought of it stokes her ego, nicole can’t help but feel embarrassed and intrigued; does she stop here?—how far can she go?

“ ni-nicole—“

“ that’s boss to you, (name)! remember that with that thick skull of yours. don’t you dare question my leadership again, got it? “ nicole spat, roughly sliding her bare foot up and down the print of your dick. she swallows thickly at the feeling of you twitching against her foot. you let out an wet whine, “ b-boss, i-i understand, please stopp. .”

“ apologize. i want to hear an apology from my employee. “

nicole applies a tad bit of pressure on the clothed head of your cock, you let out a sharp breath. mind going static with pleasure, a loose string of apologies spill out from your wet lips.

“ i’m s’sorry, boss, i-i didn’t mean itt, i swearr i’m sorryyy, “ nicole rubs her foot back down to the base, your jaw tenses before it parts open for a strained moan to slip out. shaky fingers reach downward as you attempt to remove nicole’s foot away from your throbbing sex.

“ don’t you dare touch my foot, (name). “ your boss snarls and you whimper, hands falling down to grip the sheets again.

“ but if y-you keep doing this—i’ll—!”

“ tell me that you’re my loyal employee and i’ll stop.”nicole demands haughtily, crossing her arms. chest panting, you lick your lips, half-lidded, desperate eyes staring up at her. damn, you look so good while being pathetic like this. if she wasn’t clinging so much to her self-control right now, she’d pounce on you and really make you beg for it.

“ i-i’m your loyal employee—“

nicole presses harder while languidly stroking you with her foot. you let out a loud mewl. she feels her chest getting heavy with temptation, the hot sensation of arousal swirling downwards.

“ say it louder, i want to hear it. “

“ i’m y-your loyal employee! “ you slur, feeling your orgasm reaching its peak. “ i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yours, bossss— “

your mind becomes an empty canvas, white spots obscuring your vision as you cream in your jeans. hazel eyes closely observed the wet patch forming in your crotch area. despite the wet, slick feeling against her heel, she doesn’t pull away and instead, releases most of the pressure from your constrained member. she strokes you in a soothing pace to assist you with your high—as a reward for taking your punishment, of course.

you’re laid out boneless on her bed, shirt deliciously riding up your stomach, a dazed expression sitting on your face—god, you’re so. .

a practiced smug smile tugs at her pink lips as she finally removes her foot away. she instinctively squeeze her thighs together while she gives you a warning. “ that’s more like it. wasn’t so hard, was it, my loyal employee? next time, don’t piss me off or you’ll get much worse. “

if only you knew nicole was half-bluffing. .

[mimble-sparklepudding]

FFXIVwrite2024 Appreciation Post!

Having just recovered from my efforts at completing FFXIVwrite20224 (organised by the inestimable @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast) I thought it might be a good idea to celebrate just some of the excellent writing produced by the FFXIV Community for the event!

Saturnine by @naejlas-axe. A great piece of writing about an OC doing a piece of writing - it's very meta! Plus I suggested the word for it!

Taken by @kannedia. Semi-platonic piratical parleying. I learned that QPR does not always mean the football team!

Bar by @lilbittymonster. Featuring the Chais, who are some of my favourite characters. This one's on the Archive of Our Own site, but it still counts I think.

Two Heads Are Better Than One by @musesofawolf. Fun with Thancred! Definitely a blog you should be following.

Steer by @johnnylandslide. Alisaie takes a driving lesson with a bit of a FFXV crossover.

Perpetuity by @hares-and-hounds. A brief reflective piece. I enjoyed how the entries tracked the character's story at different ages.

Reticent by @starrysnowdrop. A certain Astrologian has an accurate prediction of future events. Hali is always a joy!

Third-Rate by @elliewiltarwyn. A great scene set at the end of ARR/beginning of Heavensward. Plus extra credit to the writer for producing so much work whilst very poorly.

On Cloud Nine by @autumnslance. A unique perspective on events from an unexpected source.

Zip by @ainyan. A short, but sweet little piece that I really liked. Romantic and just a little bit suggestive.

Stamp by @astrology-bf. A little piece of erotic writing about... well erotic writing of a slightly different kind.

Horizon by @otherworldseekers. A particularly nice piece that takes the prompt and does something unexpectedly romantic with it!

Cellar (free day) by @houserosaire. I really enjoyed this piece. Two refined Ishgardian gentleman have a meaningful exchange in a wine cellar.

Shade by @umbralaether. A wistful, but intriguing piece that I enjoyed very much.

Hackneyed by @irisopranta. A piece of fanfiction about fictional fanfiction. I laughed a lot!

Obviously this is just a small selection of writing from a small selection of writers, but definitely worth checking out. I will post a masterlist of my nonsense FFXIVwrite2024 pieces at some point, but I can't promise it will approach the quality of any of these examples!

[yuri-is-online]

hi, i'm not the same anon but i would like to hear more about the fyuuture kid au 👉👈 especially about riddle!!

hello new friend, you picked someone who is having a real bad time in this au (ﾟωﾟ；)

I am going to give some general information about Yutu and then move on to some Riddle specific stuff.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, general au explanation can be found here, and the posts can be found on my masterlist under the series section.

General Yutu Facts

"Yutu" is supposed to be a fake name fyuuture kid is using to help hide his identity, but I am open to suggestions on that. Originally he didn't remember his name and Crowley picked it out for him, but I like the idea of "Yuu two" being a nickname he had in both your world and Twisted Wonderland and picked as his alias to honor his parent. Yutu really admires Yuu, he has nothing but empathy for your situation and respect for your strength, and while he certainly fought with you from time to time (some Yutus more than others) he wants to be like you.

That desire was very much cemented when he heard about how you won against the overblot phantoms. Yutu's unique magic changes depending on who his dad is, but all Yutus have extensive experience in combat magic and have fought a lot of monsters. Including overblot phantoms, same as you. His fights didn't go as well though... he's extremely afraid of the Great Seven's phantoms and has regular nightmares about them.

Back to the names... I didn't have names picked out for every version of Yutu, but Riddle does happen to have been one of them. His real name was supposed to be March, yes like the march hare but if I'm honest I was more thinking about the saying "in like a lion out a lamb" because I thought that described Riddle's temper pretty well.

The other ones I picked out I still like are Merrin (I swear I found it on a list of mountain themed names??? But it means sea born or pearl of the sea), Laurie (yes like little women, his unique magic was supposed to something to do with painting), and Roland (I have an unironic love for French peerage ok please do not judge me).

Some of the Yutus were meant to have older siblings who stayed behind in Twisted Wonderland (Riddle! Yutu wasn't one of them), but that was very much an idea I didn't develop extensively since it was more left over from Fire Emblem Awakening. I wanted there to be a Lucina type older sibling character who was very protective of Yutu and wanting a future where he gets to stay in Twisted Wonderland and they get to be a happy family. But again I didn't cook this idea extensively so idk how to feel about keeping it as a part of the ayuu.

Anyway on to the Riddle specific stuff ¬‿¬

So that bit about Yutu's real name coming from a description from Riddle's temper: I like to leave what Yutu looks like up to the reader, but Riddle! Yutu if nothing else took two things from his father, his (lack of) height and his temper. His facial expressions when pouting and angry are eerily similar, and they both have a strong affinity for fire. Riddle! Yutu is a lot like Riddle Tsum now that I think about it? Very high energy and likes to jump around all over the place, but determined to be at least somewhat dignified.

Since traveling back in time Yutu has been "studying" with Grim to try and get his flames hot enough to burn blue to flex on his dad and to bond with the monster. He usually just ends up watching him though, the mental image he had of Grim vs what the little guy is actually like is really wild.

Back to the temper, unlike Riddle Yutu wasn't home schooled so he got into a lot of trouble for losing it on other students. He had a chip on his shoulder about not having a dad, having a parent with amnesia, and especially about being short oh god he is so spiteful about that. He got sent to detention a lot, and shamefully it made him fight with Yuu a lot too. Not that he hates Yuu, he was just very emotional and not always the easiest to deal with. His last few interactions with Yuu before they died were very strained, and he is filled with remorse for a bunch of stupid things he said.

When he gets to the point where he has to admit to Yuu who he is there is going to be a lot of crying and begging for forgiveness. He was a stupid, angry kid who just wanted to know who he was and didn't feel like he belonged lashing out at the one person who he knew wanting nothing but the best for him. He doesn't really feel the need to ask for forgiveness from his dad (yet)... by the time Yutu was isekaid into Twisted Wonderland Riddle had been corrupted by his overblot phantom and was wrecking the Queendom of Roses so he never really met the real Riddle until he traveled back in time.

He also got compared to Riddle a lot, Yutu isn't stupid by any means but because of all that time spent in detention he is a bit behind on the fundamentals. Not to mention all Riddle has done up to this point is practice magic and Yutu only just found out it was real so of course there was going to be a skill gap! But still, he's Riddle's son and Riddle was a very memorable student for Crewel, so Yutu was guaranteed to hear some comparisons. It didn't help the daddy issues though...

Speaking of Yutu's time at NRC, he did get placed into Heartslabyul by the Dark Mirror and he does know all 810 rules of the Queen's rules. He's not as obsessed with them as Riddle is but he still knows what he's supposed to do and tries to be on his best behavior. He was not interested in being dorm leader and wanted to instead focus on the things Yuu always encouraged him to do, like controlling his temper and getting good grades.

I sort of like the idea of his unique magic being the ability to grow/shrink because in the book Rule 42 of the Queen of Hearts says “All persons more than a mile high to leave the court" and I like the idea of him trying to use his spell to get out of arguments with his dad.

Riddle has no idea that Yutu hates him... at first. This is partially because Yutu is usually very polite to him and partially because he is utterly unaware of how much people are afraid of him in general, but he starts to pick up on it when he tries to interact with Yuu. He wants to have a private tea party with just Yuu? Well Yutu immediately starts acting like this is somehow scandalous and calls him out on his feelings in front of the prefect and he wants to lose it so badly- Yuu agrees anyway and Riddle immediately gets unreasonably smug while Yutu pouts. Take that sucker! He's going to study with the prefect all alone and since it's Riddle you know you really are just going to study.

I don't think Riddle really considers Yutu a rival for Yuu's romantic attention, partially because he isn't fully aware of what it is he feels for Yuu, but even if he was. Riddle knows that Yuu sees Yutu as someone under their care similar to Grim, they actually talk to him about it quite a bit and he has no issue with that. He is actually sort of grateful for Yutu's existence since it has given him an excuse to talk to Yuu more and let them know how he respects them.

Yutu's academic struggles are something that actually bring him closer to Riddle ironically enough. Riddle has created study guides for Yuu and Grim before, he has no problem doing that for Yutu and inviting himself over to give instructions.

"Did you not get a lot of help from your parents?" Riddle sounds nervous, and he should it's an invasive question to ask. Yutu wants to be angry, but when he looks at Riddle, he just feels sad. "Not that it is any of my business really but well. I just noticed you never really talk about them, even to Yuu."

"My dad wasn't really around." He forces himself to look at Riddle when he says it, but it doesn't make him feel any better. If anything it makes Yutu feel worse, he knows about as much about Riddle as Riddle knows about him now that he's forced to look at him. "And my other parent... they tried really hard. But I wasn't always willing to accept it."

"I can't say I understand what that would be like." Riddle looks like he is trying to and that should be what he wants, right? "My mother home schooled me so it's hard for me to understand that someone's parents wouldn't be a constant figure in their schooling."

"You were home schooled?"

Yutu didn't know anything about his grandmother, it didn't even really occur to him that he had one and once he learns about her... well it certainly makes things make a lot more sense. He doesn't want to meet her, but he is curious about what she thought about his parent. What would she think about him? Does he even want to know?

My last concrete thought is that Yutu doesn't really get the whole horse girl thing. He is sort of afraid of horses actually, but I can see him maybe wanting to ride with Riddle once their relationship gets a bit better just to do something with him.

I like the idea of Riddle! Yutu being very into baseball for some reason and there's no way he's going to convince his dad to do that with him ha. Well not in this timeline anyway, I can see good timeline Riddle doing a bunch of research on baseball so he can talk to his kid about it. And showing up to all his matches to scream in support of his kid instead of at the coaches. He is breaking the cycle we love to see it.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! Ok so at one point I remember when answering an ask you said that when making animal based characters to just stay away from making any rat ones because of negative connotations (which I totally get)

So my question is would it be ok to have a whole humanoid race that is mildly based on mice? They look like humans but their ears vaguely look mouse-ish, they have tails, and their feet are sort of like paws. I am considering two different options with the tails in case I should stay away from the mouse thing, one looks like a mouse tail (kind of the main thing making them mice themed) and the other is a similar shape but fluffy especially at the end (A little like some versions of unicorn tails I've seen)

I would like to include disabled characters so if the mouse thing still isn't recommended I'll redesign them

Hello!

Most of the time when we advise that people avoid a certain trope/concept, it isn't a complete ban on it. It's generally more of a "be careful with how you approach this" type thing.

For example, we often advise against making a disabled character that's a villain because of their disability. If your only disabled character is a villain with chronic pain that kills people because their disability stops them from their dream job, that's not great. BUT if you have this same character and you also have a wheelchair user who runs the tech stuff for the hero side (Oracle-style, for my DC folks) and a Deafblind hero who leads the charge against the villains and an autistic sidekick and an amputee henchman for the villain and several able bodied villains and so on, then its less of a problem. It might not be gold medal representation but because you're no longer equating disability with tradegy and hatred and instead showing that villain as part of a cast with diverse stories and, more importantly, as a person with their own unique experiences, it's much better.

This is all a very long way of saying that most tropes that are generally best avoided can still be okay in some contexts.

In this case, having this whole species is completely fine and it's great that you want to include disabled characters! I see nothing wrong with this.

If you had a world where the characters were all anthropomorphic animals and the only rat character was also your own disabled character, that'd be a bit of a problem because it's singling out your disabled character -- presumably to poke at their disability.

In the concept you've presented, though, being part of this species is a trait all (Or most) of your characters share. Which is fine!

As a few final notes of caution:

If you're worried about certain unintended connotations or messaging coming across, it's generally best to spread your cast out as much as possible. By this, I mean that if you have other species in this world, don't have all your disabled characters be part of this one species. Likewise, don't have every member of this species be disabled. Instead, consider having your disabled characters be from different species. For example, have an amputee character be from this species but have a blind character be from another species.

Certain specific disabilities do have individual associations to watch out for. Be careful making associations between a character with a cleft lip and hares/rabbits (Because of the derogatory term "harelip" that has been used). Likewise but to a lesser extent, be careful with associations of blind people and moles, mice, and bats. This is because of the naked mole rat, the Three Blind Mice, and "blind as a bat" respectively. There are a few of these out there.

This is less of a warning and more just something to consider but keep in mind how their animal traits can be impacted by their disability. Would a character that's paralyzed have use of their tail? Would a blind character trip over their tail or would their same "sense of self" extend to the tail like it would an arm or leg? How would a character in a wheelchair adapt their chair to their tail? Etc.

Hopefully some of this is helpful!

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Lol.

This will be short. I’ll go on a little tangent but I’ll tie this back to Jungkook and BTS at the end.

You know, I was mostly ambivalent about the feud between HYBE and Min Heejin until I heard her call Bang Sihyuk and his sycophants “bastards” for ‘overpaying for garbage and forcing everyone to eat it because they think the price makes the music good.’ - I’m paraphrasing a bit because her language was more crude. That made me sit up a bit, because her sentiments mirrored my thoughts about the direction Bang Sihyuk has been taking the company in for some time now.

Another random connection is that, to me at least, it seems clear BigHit is still trying to make the HYBE America investment worth it, given:

1. The unnecessarily long credit lists filled with Scooter-linked writers that appear to have become a fixture of most HYBE releases. Bang PD is clearly taking advantage of Scooter’s connections although it’s yet to yield any significant improvement in music quality, and in terms of chart performance the results are mixed at best;

2. The fact that in addition to HYBE paying US$1.05 Billion in cash for Scooter’s company, essentially overpaying for Ithaca Holdings by consensus estimates (a deal Min Heejin also openly criticized as being hare-brained), HYBE America still generated hundreds of millions of dollars in losses as of the last fiscal year, two years after the acquisition was finalized.

But this is old news, we all knew that.

The thing about Min Heejin’s comments that concerned me is that, despite what is now clearly an underperforming investment both in terms of Scooter Braun himself and the man at HYBE that arranged the deal in the first place, Lee Jae-sang, rather than work to correct course and minimize losses, Bang Sihyuk appears to be doubling down on the deal by rewarding these two men in particular with more music and business opportunities within HYBE, even if the music quality suffers as a result, even if HYBE continues overpaying for shit, and even if the artists/idols are negatively impacted in the process. And according to Min Heejin, one big reason Bang Sihyuk allows it is because those men are adept at greasing his arse and eating it out.

Basically, it’s become an expensive joke. But he’s brute forcing the deal to work because so long as BTS is involved and so ARMYs are involved, it’s a joke that Bang PD is guaranteed to take laughing all the way to the bank.

This is where I say I realized shortly after Jungkook’s fan song for Festa was announced, that I wasn’t excited to hear it. I’m saying this only because now that the song is out, it’s confirmed everything I expected. And also because that apathetic feeling was so at odds with how I’ve been feeling about Jungkook as a person for the last year. If it’s not been clear from my reblogs and gush posts, I’ve been spending the better part of this hiatus loving Jungkook extremely. Jungkook is an empathetic songwriter, an emotive vocalist, a talented producer.

But nothing about Never Let Go is exciting. Who wants to listen to a fan song written by people who’ve never had fans? And on top of that, Jungkook is making less money from that song than any fan song he’s written before. Meaning, the song is mediocre, it feels blatantly insincere in ways only a crowdsourced fan song can be, and Jungkook has to split his revenue from the song with about 10 white people. Just look at this.

I’m actually laughing typing this out, but this turn of events is at least a little tragic.

Golden worked as a concept album because it was a collection of songs Jungkook felt represented his taste, he could take on the challenge of putting out a full English album with some help from the writers, and he showcased new vocal techniques and styles that only showed an evolution from his prior work in BTS. The songs themselves were just okay, good decent pop, but as a collection it worked.

Everything about Never Let Go feels almost audaciously soulless. Not quite a slap on the face but it’s like someone coming all up in your face with a bad case of halitosis and their nose barely touching yours, daring you to do something about it.

I have no issue with HYBE working with Scooter-linked writers or producers if it means something actually good comes of it. But it seems HYBE seems to believe their work is better simply because they slap on as many foreign names in the credits as they can fit. It betrays a worrying mentality about the head honchos in the company. Looking at the peak quality in FACE by Jimin, or in Right Place, Wrong Person by RM, which included acclaimed Korean, other Asian, and Black talent supposedly hand-picked by Jimin and Joon themselves, it’s clear HYBE has access to remarkable home-grown and foreign talent that could improve the work of the members. But what I’m seeing with too much frequency is HYBE picking off the bottom of the barrel in the unending list of Scooter’s contractors and otherwise choosing to do the bare minimum.

And that’s how we end up with a Festa fan song with a topline that sounds like an AI-generated jingle written by a soccer team of hired help.

Or idk, maybe I’m being just a bit too full of it. Maybe I’ve been brainwashed by the witch Min Heejin, maybe this was just one more song Jungkook worked on with his Golden team as he had no time to write a proper fan song, nothing more. And maybe as a silver lining, there are no glaring grammatical errors though I found the ones in My You very charming, and honestly part of the appeal. To hear the way Jungkook sees the fans who have been with him till now, even if in English it didn’t quite make sense.

I said this would be short but I’ve rambled, as usual. Sorry for that. When I started out writing this post, I did intend to keep it short.

To end things on a somewhat lighter note, for me the only thing I’m excited about this Festa, is SeokJin coming back. I’ll be working on a deal during the fanmeet so I didn’t bother participating in the raffle, but I’m happy for the ARMYs who get the opportunity to hug Jin, and for Jin who gets to spend time with his fans after so long. With him returning, things are starting to feel more right, even though there are worrying signs in high places. We’ve got about 1 year left to endure most of the members enlisted and then, the crew will be rounded up again.

Now more than ever, I find myself looking forward to that.

[billythesimp]

Can you do romantic headcanons for a Billy Kid x Android!Reader that is doll-like, lives in Tin Master's cafe, works alongside Victoria's Housekeeping, and fights with a fencing sword please?

Billy, my starlight. My king of robotics and weaponry. Yes, I can do so for you.

Coffee Cup Love

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

I love Tin Master's shop. Imma always complain that you can't get another cup of coffee from either locations after having one. Like how do you know I had a cup on sixth street? let me talk to management if y'all are stalking me.

Billy x Android!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: none

✦ It’s a surprise to the proxies when they are introduced to Billy’s significant other who worked at their local coffee shop. The Victorian servant outfit they wear stands out as they greet them before offering them a cup of their newest brew. Billy is standing on the side, fawning over how gracefully they turn and bend, all their movements coordinated smoothly like that of a perfectly poured expresso.

✦He mentioned how they first met in a hollow, during on of his missions for the Cunning Hares, he ended up trapped and lost for what felt like hours. Then, like a beacon of hope the ethereals that were on his tail were sliced to bits, his heroin standing before him with a long-pointed blade aimed at his face. He only stared in awe before stumbling over his words to thank them properly.

✦ At first, they were standoffish, confused as to why this android male was guessing over them like so, proclaiming as glamorous as a starlight knight, rushing towards battle with nothing but their fences in hand, their uniform clean and prestige Lycaon would have their head should they return dirtied like last time. No long after then, he finally left the hollow and the mystery android-servant disappeared. 

✦ Shortly after, he spotted them in Tin Master’s shop and rushed in spouting how he recognized them. Staying for a cup and chatting with them. This became a regular thing before long, the maidroid looking forward to his visits until he popped the question and asked them out. They said yes, warmed at the thought of going out with this handsome droid and now to the present, they are one of the cutest couples to date.

✦ Since they are part-time at the coffee shop, the rest of their time is spent at the Victorian Housekeeping warehouse nearby, often texting Billy about their day or making plans for another movie date. Their own co-workers grow surprised by this revelation as in the past, they showed no interest in making connections or even taking a person as their parent. But they only shrug and state that their AI is simply more advanced and adapts to change faster. Really it’s that Billy had brought down a wall and revealed a side of them they hadn’t realized they loved. 

✦ At this point, they remember all his favorite scenes from his most watched films, his favorite brand of lubricant for his guns and joints, and all the places he frequents often whenever he mentions his days. While yes, they are a perfect machine made for scalping and slicing down their targets with grace and pose, when they are with Billy they are nothing more than his perfect doll, pretty and patient with his antics and laughing at all his jokes. Every moment spend with each other is once they hold dearly to their circuit boards, hoping to recover these memories in the future to look back on.

✦ They are unique and complement Billy well, while he’s sometimes seen as intimidating and mysterious to the outsiders eyes, they’re beautiful and polite that anyone can stare with no fear but rather admiration. When in reality, he is easygoing and a little careless while they are known as a monster with their thin-piercing blades, a threat to anyone who dares come between them and their Billy. Together they are fierce in battle, having each others back when the going gets rough. And even outside of battle, they are a power couple, a force to be reckoned with.

[tavolgisvist]

The trial for the dissolution of The Beatles’ contractual partnership 

"And I've changed. The funny thing about it is that I think alot of my change has been helped by John Lennon. I sort of picked up on his lead. John had said, 'Look, I don't want to be that anymore. I'm going to be this.' And I thought, 'That's great.' I liked the fact he'd done it, and so I'll do it with my thing. He's given the okay. In England, if a partnership isn't rolling along and working -- like a marriage that isn't working-- then you have reasonable grounds to break it off. It's great! Good old British justice!

(Paul McCartney, Life Magazine, April 16, 1971)

‘I don’t mind being bound to them as a friend. I like that idea. I don’t mind being bound to them musically, because I like the others as musical partners. I like being in their band. But for my own sanity, we must change the business arrangements we have…’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

From my point of view, I was getting done in. All the decisions were now three against one. And that’s not the easiest position if you’re the one: anything I wanted to do they could just say, ‘No.’ And it was just to be awkward, I thought. … I got so fed up with all this I said, ‘OK, I want to get off the label.’ Apple Records was a lovely dream, but I thought, ‘Now this is really trashy and I want to get off.’ I remember George on the phone saying to me, ‘You’ll stay on this fucking label! Hare Krishna!’ and he hung up – and I went, ‘Oh, dear me. This is really getting hairy.’

(Paul McCartney, The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

'Eventually,' McCartney recalled, 'I went and said, "I want to leave. You can all get on with Klein and everything, just let me out." Having not spoken to Lennon for several weeks, he sent him a letter that summer, pleading that the former partners 'let each other out of the trap'. As McCartney testified, Lennon 'replied with a photograph of himself and Yoko, with a balloon coming out of his mouth in which was written, "How and Why?" I replied by letter saying, "How by signing a paper which says we hereby dissolve our partnership. Why because there is no partnership." John replied on a card which said, "Get well soon. Get the other signatures and I will think about it.” Communication was at an end.’

(Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money, 2009 - P.88)

I thought, “This is crazy, no one likes me enough to just let me go, give me my little bit of the proceeds and let me split off.”

(Paul McCartney, 31 January 1974, interview with Paul Gambaccini for Rolling Stone)

A draft of an undated letter in John Lennon‘s hand that essentially bars Paul McCartney and his new manager, Lee Eastman, from accessing The Beatles’ recordings without authorization. 

THE HEAD OF Media Sound.

Please do not release hand over any Apple Record Tapes to anybody other person except either John Lennon, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, or someone bearing a letter with one or more of their signituer [sic].

John Lennon, President, Apple Records George Harrison, Director

(from thebeatleaesthetic)

…Not that I didn’t see the others. I did, and kept asking them to let me out and they said, “No, Allen says there would be tax complications.” I said, “I don’t give a damn about tax considerations, let me go and I’ll worry about the tax considerations. I didn’t want to be an ABKCO-Managed Industry.” It was weird. My albums would come out saying “An ABKCO Company,” and he wasn’t even my manager. … [Growing more emotional] My back was against the wall. I’m not proud of it. But it had to be done. To him [Klein], artists are money. To me, they’re more than that.

(Paul McCartney, Jan 1974, interview with Paul Gambaccini for RollingStone)

I do think if it were just up to the four of us, if we were totally unencumbered, we would have had a dissolution - I hate these heavy terms - the day after John said he was leaving. We would have picked up our bags - these are my shoes, that's my ball, that's your ball - and gone. And I still maintain that's the only way, to actually go and do that, no matter what things are involved on a business level. But of course we aren't four fellows. We are part of a big business machine. Even though the Beatles have really stopped, the Beatle thing goes on - repackaging the albums, putting tracks together in different forms, and the video coming in. So that's why I've had to sue in the courts to dissolve the Beatles, to do on a business level what we should have done on a four-fellows level. I feel it just has to come. We used to get asked at press conferences, 'What are you going to do when the bubble bursts?' When I talked to John just the other day, he said something about, 'Well, the bubble's going to burst.' And I said, 'It has burst. That's the point. That's why I've had to do this, why l had to apply to the court. You don't think I really enjoy doing that kind of stuff. I had to do it because the bubble has burst - everywhere but on paper.' That's the only place we're tied now. <…> You see, there was a partnership contract put together years ago to hold us together as a group for 10 years. Anything anybody wanted to do - put out a record, anything - he had to get the others' permission. Because of what we were then, none of us ever looked at it when we signed it. We signed it in '67 and discovered it last year. We discovered this contract that bound us for 10 years. So it's 'Oh gosh, Oh golly, Oh heck,' you know. 'Now, boys, can we tear it up, please?' But the trouble is, the other three have been advised not to tear it up. They've been advised that if they tear it up, there will be serious, bad consequences for them. The point, though, to me was that it began to look like a three-to-one vote, which is what in fact happened at a couple of business meetings. It was three to one. That's how Allen Klein got to be the manager of Apple, which I didn't want. But they didn't need my approval." <…> I first said, 'No, we can't do that. We'll live with it.' <…> The build-up is the thing - All these things continuously happening making me feel like I'm a junior with the record company, like Klein is the boss and I'm nothing. Well, I'm a senior. I figure my opinion is as good as anyone's, especially when it's my thing. And it's emotional. You feel like you don't have any freedom. I figured I'd have to stand up for myself eventually or get pushed under. <…> So then we began to talk again about the suit, over and over. I just saw that I was not going to get out of it. From my last phone conversation with John, I think he sees it like that. He said, 'Well, how do you get out?' <…> My lawyer, John Eastman, he's a nice guy and he saw the position we were in, and he sympathized. We'd have these meetings on top of hills in Scotland, we'd go for long walks. I remember when we actually decided we had to go and file suit. We were standing on this big hill which overlooked a loch - it was quite a nice day, a bit chilly - and we'd been searching our souls. Was there any other way? And we eventually said, 'Oh, we've got to do it.' The only alternative was seven years with the partnership - going through those same channels for seven years.

(Paul McCartney, April 16th 1971, interview with Richard Merryman for Life Magazine)

John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr have accepted Paul McCartney’s decision to leave the group and will not appeal against the recent court decision to appoint a receiver to look into their affairs. Mr Morris Finer, QC, representing Apple Corps Ltd, Lennon, Harrison and Starr, reported to the Apple Court on Monday that his clients considered in the circumstances that it was in the best interests to consider means whereby McCartney could disengage himself from the partnership. His clients felt that prosecution of the Appeal would be hostile to the atmosphere best suited for negotiations – and accordingly asked for their appeal to be dismissed. McCartney’s QC, Mr Jeffrey Hirst, welcomed the suggestion to drop their appeal. The decision of the other three to allow McCartney to go his own way strengthens the likelihood that Lennon, Harrison and Starr may record together again – possibly with Klaus Voorman playing bass.

(Melody Maker – May 1, 1971)

…on “Wild Life” there’s a line that refers to “a lot of political nonsense in the air.” Later, he was talking about political nonsense, all the trouble between him and the others, between the McCartney’s and Linda’s father, John Eastman, and Allan Klein. Politics, Paul called it, and he didn’t like it. All he wanted was to be out of the whole thing, to own the copyright to his own songs, forget the Beatles, sign a piece of paper saying we’ve split up, everything’s going to be shared by four. “And John said, “Yeah, but that’s like asking us to stop the bombing in Vietnam.” We eventually decided that we were all Vietnamese, so that’s all right… “But I keep wanting to send him postcards saying ‘The war’s over if you want it’ – tell him what he’s saying. It’s just crazy, I’m sure the truth’s a whole lot more simple than it’s made out.”

(Paul McCartney, Nov 1971, interview with Steve Peacock for Sounds)

Maybe there's an answer there somewhere, but for the millionth time in these past few years I repeat, 'What about the TAX?' It's all very well, playing 'simple honest ole Paul' in Melody Maker but you know damn well we can't just sign a bit of paper. You say, 'John won't do it.' I will if you indemnify us against the tax man! Anyway, you know that after we have OUR meeting, the fucking lawyers will have to implement whatever we agree on, right? If they have some form of agreement between THEM before WE meet, it might make it even easier. It's up to you, as we've said many times, we'll meet whenever you like. Just make up your mind! <...> If you're not the aggressor (as you claim), who the hell took us to court and shit all over us in public?

(John Lennon, Dec 1971, a letter of reply to Melody Maker)

Some context:

9th September 1971 (US) and 8th October 1971 (UK) - release Imagine (with How Do You Sleep?) 13 September 1971 Stella McCartney was born (by emergency caesarean section, Paul prayed for her (and Linda) and got his daughter, wife and the name for new group). 10 (11) November - interview with Chris Charlesworth for Melody Maker, published 20th November. 4th December - Melody Maker publishes John's furious letter to Paul and Linda. In November 1971 Lennon Remembers (the interview with Jann Wenner) releases as a book.

In early 1973 Lennon, Harrison and Starr served notice that they would not be renewing Klein's management contract when it expired in March, Klein sue The Beatles, Apple, Lennon, Harrison… they sue Klein.

In 1974, Wenner received a mysterious cream-colored envelope in the mail, care of “Johann Weiner” and postmarked Los Angeles, California. Inside was a single Polaroid picture of John Lennon and Paul McCartney hanging out on a garden patio with friends: Linda McCartney, hoisting a pool stick; Keith Moon, in shorts and Roman sandals; and May Pang, Lennon’s then lover, holding McCartney’s daughter Mary on her lap. On the white strip below the image, dated “Palm Sunday 1974,” was the message “How do you sleep???!!!”

<...>

What Wenner didn’t know was that the Polaroid captured a pivotal moment in the history of the Beatles—the period when John and Paul managed a degree of détente after the acrimony of the breakup.

(Joe Hagan for Vanity Fair, September 29th, 2017)

I’m going to be an ex-Beatle for the rest of my life so I might as well enjoy it, and I’m just getting around to being able to stand back and see what happened. A couple of years ago I might have given everybody the impression I hate it all, but that was then. I was talking when I was straight out of therapy and I’d been mentally stripped bare and I just wanted to shoot my mouth off to clear it all away. Now it’s different. When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through. Now, we’ve all got it out and it’s cool. I can see The Beatles from a new point of view. Can’t remember much of what happened, little bits here and there, but I’ve started taking on interest in what went on while I was in that fish tank. It must have been incredible! I’m into collecting memorabilia as well. Elton [John] came in with these gifts, like stills from the Yellow Submarine drawings and they’re great. He gave me these four dolls. I thought, ‘Christ, what’s this, an ex-Beatle collecting Beatle dolls?’ But why not? It’s history, man, history!’ I went through a phase of hating all those years and having to smile when I didn’t want to smile, but that was the life I chose and, now I’m out of it, it’s great to look back on it, man. Great! I was thinking only recently – why haven’t I ever considered the good times instead of moaning about what we had to go through? And Paul was here and we spent two or three nights together talking about the old days and it was cool, seeing what each other remembered from Hamburg and Liverpool. So y’see, all that happened when I blew my mouth off was that it was an abscess bursting, except that mine as usual burst in public. When we did a tour as The Beatles, we hated it and loved it. There were great nights and lousy nights. One of the things about therapy I went through a few years ago is that it cleans you by forcing you to get rid of the negatives in your head. It wasn’t all that pie and cookies being a Beatle, there were highs and lows, but the trouble is people just wanted bigmouth Lennon to shout about the lows. So I made a quick trip to uncover the hidden stones of my mind, and a lot of the bats flew and some of them are going to have to stay. I’ve got perspective now, that’s a fact.

(John Lennon, interview with Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life, September 14th, 1974)

HOUGHTON: You seem to attack McCartney in your first couple solo albums. How do you feel about Paul McCartney now? JOHN: Uh, we’re – haha. [laughs] This is like a joke: “We’re just good friends.” We’re – we’re pretty close now, like I was telling you before. Whenever he comes to America, he comes with Linda to see me, and we go eat, and we reminisce about old times, and we really have both – evolved out of whatever feelings we had when we first split. I think we were – I think it’s a case of, we were more scared than we thought. All of us. The fact – however the split happened, being suddenly on your own after ten years was a pretty scary thing for all of us.

(John Lennon, October, 1974, interview with DJ John Houghton)

Thanksgiving 1974, November 28, John joins Elton John on a Madison Square Garden stage: Whatever Gets You Thru The Night, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds - and I Saw Her Standing There, which John announces, 'We thought we'd do one last number so I can get out of here and be sick. This is a number of an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul.'

December 20th 1974: the signing final Beatles dissolution papers and George's concert at Madison Square Garden.

We had a business meeting to break up The Beatles, one of the famous ones that we’d been having — we’re still having them 17 years later, actually. We all flew in to New York specially. George came off his disastrous tour, Ring of flew in and we were at the Plaza for the big final settlement meeting. John was half a mile away at the Dakota and he sent a balloon over with a note that said ‘Listen to this balloon.’ I mean, you’ve got to be pretty cool to handle that kind of stuff. George blew his cool and rang him up: ’You fucking maniac!! You take your fucking dark glasses off and come and look at us, man!!’ and gave him a whole load of that shit. Around the same time at another meeting we had it all settled, and John asked for an extra million pounds at the last minute. So of course that meeting blew up in disarray. Later, when we got a bit friendlier — and from time to time there would be these little stepping-stones of friendship in the Apple sea — I asked him why he’d actually wanted that million and he said, I just wanted cards to play with. It’s absolutely standard business practice. He wanted a couple of jacks to up your pair of nines. He was one great guy, but part of his greatness was that he wasn’t a saint.

(Paul McCartney, 1986, interview with Chris Salewicz for Q Magazine)

gifs by nikidontsurf

May Pang: Originally when they were supposed to sign it in December (of ’74), before Christmas, it was that time period of George’s Dark Horse tour; at the last minute John didn’t want to sign it because there was one clause he felt uncomfortable with and he wouldn’t come to the meeting. SG: Which clause? May Pang: Since he was the only one of the group living in America that he would be the one responsible for the taxes. It would be over a million dollars. He did not want to shoulder that burden. So he wouldn’t come out to sign it. Paul and Linda had already set up cameras to take photos of everyone signing it, and George was there because of the show, and Ringo had signed it previously in England but was on the telephone to confirm his signature. All the legal counsels for the individuals as well as legal counsels for Apple both in the US and the UK were there waiting. As time went on, poor Harold Seider bore the brunt of everyone at the hotel asking “Where’s John?” He called John and me at home and I said, “He’s not coming.” And Harold said, “What?” and I said, “He doesn’t want to shoulder this tax burden.” Harold knew that they were gonna come down on him. And John was going, “Tell them the stars aren’t right, tell them anything, I’m not doing this.” So… when Harold hung up the phone, he had to face the crowd, and you had to know there was a big crowd in there, over thirty people. He said to them, “The stars aren’t right, John’s not coming to sign the agreement.” George called us immediately, and I said “Do you want to speak to John?” and he said “No, but you can give him a message from me. I started this tour on my own and I’ll end it on my own.” If I could tell you that we could hear George screaming through the rooftops… The next day Paul and Linda came over and they said, “What’s wrong? Let’s see if we can work this out.” SG: and..? May Pang: Paul and Linda dropped by and John explained the situation to them. Then we went off to see Paul’s father-in-law Lee Eastman to sort it out, and in the end we came out with satisfaction. At the meeting Lee kept saying to John, “George will never forgive you,” and Julian called at exactly the same moment and said to me, “George just told me to tell dad and to say ‘all is forgiven, and please come to the party after the show'” and I said ok, and walked back into the room. Lee was telling John off the whole time I was on the phone, as well as Neil Aspinall who accompanied us, going on about how George was never going to forgive him. So I repeated Julian’s message out loud, that all was forgiven, and it couldn’t have been a better set up. So then John said, “Well! Looks like we have a change in plans then. We’re outta here.” And if you could see the look on Lee’s face, that I had just upstaged him.

(May Pang, 2008, interview with Shelley Germeaux for Dayrippin’)

gifs by pennielane

George and I are still good pals and we always will be, but I was supposed to sign this thing on the day of his concert. He was pretty weird because he was in the middle of that tour, and we hadn’t communicated for a while because he doesn’t live here. I’ve seen Paul a bit because he comes to New York a lot, and I’m always seeing Ringo in Los Angeles. <…> George was furious at the time because I hadn’t signed it when I was supposed to, and somehow or other I was informed that I needn’t bother to go to George’s show. I was quite relieved in the end because there wasn’t any time for rehearsal, and I didn’t want it to be a case of just John jumping up and playing a few chords. I went to see him at Nassau and it was a good show. The band was great but Ravi wasn’t there, so I didn’t see the bit where the crowd was supposed to get restless. I just saw a good tight show. George’s voice was shot but the atmosphere was good and the crowd was great. I saw George after the Garden show and we were friends again. But he was surrounded by the madhouse that’s called ‘touring’.” <…> When I did that charity at Madison Square Garden, I was still riding high on ‘Imagine’ so I was OK for material. But when I did ‘Come Together’, the house came down, which gave me an indication of what people wanted to hear. At the time I was thinking that I didn’t want to do all that Beatles—but now I feel differently. I’ve lost all that negativity about the past and I’d be happy as Larry to do ‘Help’. I’ve just changed completely in two years. I’d do ‘Hey Jude’ and the whole damn show, and I think George will eventually see that. If he doesn’t, that’s cool. That’s the way he wants to be.”

(John Lennon, interview with Chris Charlesworth for Melody Maker: Rock on! (March 8th, 1975)

Paul and Linda on George's Dark Horse Tour show at at Madison Square Garden 20th Dec 1974

George called just before his concert. 'Do you want to speak to John?' I asked. 'No.' George had heard about John's decision and he was livid. 'Just tell him I started this tour on my own and I'll end it on my own,' he snarled. Then he slammed down the phone. Later that night Paul calld, too. Unlike George, he was exceptionally even-tempered. John explained to Paul his feelings about the unfairness of the tax provision, and they both agreed that they would try to find a solution.

(May Pang, Loving John, 1983)

December 21st, 1974: John joins in on an radio interview George is recording in his hotel room and provides a suspicious explanation for the lack of meetings amongst the four former Beatles. John and George had actually just come from George's end-of-tour afterparty, where John, Paul, and George all hung out together and hugged.

In December 1974 John, May and Julian went to Orlando, Florida and went to Walt Disney World.

I met John Lennon at Disney World while working as a monorail operator. He, Julian and May Pang rode in the front of the monorail on two different occasions with me. I allowed him and Julian to operate the train. The second day John came out to the station and actually ask if I was working. He and Julian waited until I arrived in the train and again rode with me and drove the train. May Pang took a lot of pictures that day. As they left the train that day John ask if I would like to take some pictures and waited while I retrieved a camera. I have a great 8×10 of John Lennon and I together. (Cast Member Hal East)

May Pang:

Riding the Disney World monorail back to our hotel, I overheard a father tell his son he had heard a Beatle was visiting. “Which Beatle?” The father said, “George Harrison." I burst out laughing. John asked why. We then all started laughing so hard that the Dad turned around. It then registered which Beatle was at the park that day - and why we were laughing. “It’s O.K.," John jokingly said, "we all look alike.”

Photo and info from meetthebeatlesforreal

SG: So did they work out the tax thing? May Pang: Of course… It was worked out within the week. It was signed at the Polynesian Hotel at Disneyworld in Florida if you can believe that. <…> May Pang: … John putting his signature on one of the documents that he had to sign, for the dissolution of the Beatles. So I had the last photo, because the other guys had already signed it. SG: Actually signing the dissolution of the Beatles?! May Pang: Pen in hand as he’s signing his signature. Prior to that you’ll see pictures of him reviewing the contract. SG: And you thought to take a picture…? May Pang: John wanted me to take the picture. In fact he joked about it, saying “C’mon Linda, take the picture!”

(May Pang, 2008, interview with Shelley Germeaux for Dayrippin’)

Photo by May Pang, from her 'Instamatic Karma: Photographs of John Lennon'

May Pang: ...And then we came back (from Disneyworld) and we spent time with Mick (Jagger), and went out to the Hamptons, and Montauk where we picked out that house, and we saw the McCartneys, and David Bowie…

(May Pang, 2008, interview with Shelley Germeaux for Dayrippin’)

add to this

[wintersoulwitch]

Stage/Fright second viewing - changes/things I noticed

Right finally home after that epic cross-country slog via National Express! Currently feeling like I never want to leave my house ever again... but we all know I'm checking the box office website every day in case another decently priced Saturday ticket appears... And now thinking that other events (eg BFI screenings) that I'd previously written off as impossible are more attainable than I'd thought.

Anyway, enough about me. You're here for Stage/Fright deets.

This time I was in the Grand Circle, so way up at the top. I was able to see the whole stage at once, unlike during my first viewing. And I could see that there were bronze hare ears poking up from one of the boxes!

The violinists were in matching sequined gowns - they looked sort of plum-coloured? And when they played the intro to act 1, there were shadows projected onto the red theatre curtain, like the chair with restraints that is used in act 2.

This time I noticed that Toby (Reece's understudy) came on stage first, then left and was replaced by Reece. That totally passed me by during my first watch, and I think it was because I was just so excited to recognise/realise that they were doing the "theatre audience" material, and then once Reece was in front of me my brain short-circuited and wiped all thoughts apart from "omg he's so beautiful."

I don't know if this is a change, or if I wasn't able to see them clearly last time, but I noticed spotlights being used to highlight people at various points. Like, when R&S did their opening talk to the audience after the intro there was a large spotlight on the both of them when they were centre stage, and it split into two smaller separate follow spots when they moved apart.

I spotted a couple of differences/tweaks in the BCDR/Kidnappers section in the first half - I'll do a separate post about that.

During the Elements Song this time I saw that different jars and bottles on the shelves lit up as Reece pointed at them: "And iodine 💡 and thorium 💡 and thulium 💡and thallium 💡"

They've changed the wheelchair that Reece uses in Act 2. During the first night preview (which I didn't attend), Reece was brought on to the stage and then restrained in the chair. In the show I saw last week, he was already in the wheelchair, and it was this big wooden thing. This time, it's a smaller and simpler metal wheelchair. And it makes the leg-cutting illusion look better, honestly! Much harder to see where Reece might be hiding his real leg.

They’ve changed the script a bit at the end before the final song and dance number - now instead of the bus joke, Reece hurries Steve off stage and says "you’ve got a really quick change." And then walks to the front of the stage, picks up the fallen light that "killed" Steve and says "it’s time for some light entertainment."

And some stuff that people asked me to keep an eye out for... R&S touching each other. They don’t touch in the opening section, and then in BCDR it’s just when Len smacks Tommy on the arse (and Tommy goes "ooh hoo!" and does a little jump). The most touching is during the bit in the 2nd act when Steve breaks character and hugs Reece. The hug goes on for a while and when Steve pulls back he leaves his hand on Reece’s chest/holding on to the cardigan Reece is wearing for a moment like he doesn’t want to let go. During the song and dance at the end, at the bit where he jokes "Reece Shearsmith stole my diary," Steve does put his hand on Reece’s shoulder/back of neck in that way he does. And then during the final curtain call they hold hands before the bow. Just R&S at first, then they hold hands with the rest of the cast.

Oh and after Reece says "maybe every ghost story is really just a love story" and there's that long pause... they are staring into each others' eyes the whole time. And the carnations... There's been a change! During the final song and dance the men have different flowers in their buttonholes. They were definitely carnations the first time I saw them - and I assume real ones otherwise they wouldn’t have changed them - but the flowers this time were more like floofy white puffs of silk in a flower shape.

I also wanted to note that they seemed much more comfortable with the song and dance routine this time. They weren't awkward before by any means, but they've definitely relaxed into it and really seem to be having fun. I think giving Steve a bit more time to change has helped (the first time I saw them, Steve's shirt front rolled up a bit to show his black top underneath). We all know Reece is a mover (he could have won Strictly, you know! And not just as the comedy one!) and it was super lovely to see him getting into it and doing all his little leg kicks and hand waves. He really seemed to be enjoying himself.

Finally at the very end, when they do the final "laughter is my memory of you" they now start off like they're going to point at each other, then pause and spin to the audience instead. Which is a really nice touch!

[ro-bee]

THE COTL X EPIC AU CHARACTER LIST I JUST MADE

no beta we die like pancake polites

The Lamb as Odysseus.

I think lamb is perfect to picture the change of character ody experience, at first they have a pure heart, merciful! But with time and pain the old lamb dies and the ruthless monster is born.

(Fun fact this is more in line with my headcanons for goat but is time to let lamb shine🔥)

The Goat as Polites.

A bit ooc for my goat but I think it's ok, despite them being a little shit I think they are very reassuring and caring for lamb. Funky little goat 🔥🔥

Ratau as eurylochus

I think is an honest role for dadtau hmmm

Narinder as Athena oooor... Hear me out: PENELOPE!

Ok so... Athena is obvious because 1 I'm making a narilamb animatic with warrior of the mind and nari is Athena there obv but also her songs really give me nari vibes idk

But Penelope... Is basically just for the ship nari doesn't fit much with her... But still... will you fall in love with me again IS MAKING ME GO INSANE but yeah... Idk I can't chose...

Leshy as Polyphemus.

There is a line in Polyphemus song that goes "I take from you like you took from me" and that's so leshy coded... Idk I headcanons leshy like a big chaotic beast yes but also like the actual legend of leshy, specifically the ones where he's more of a neutral god that coexist with humans but kills them if they take too much from nature. Also bro get blinded too

Heket as Circe

I love a strong woman that only cares about protecting the people she loves the most, I think Circe is the perfect choice

Also Circe allures men in her palace, cooks for them and then she transforms them into food basically haha is funny in my head.

Kalamar as Poseidon

Before you tell me "but he's pathetic! " yes he is and Poseidon is as well!

I like it to be an escalation of confidence to cowardness. He starts all angry and at the end he's crying in the shower.

Shamura as Zeus maybe but also hear me out : ATHENA!!

Is funny because shamura and Athena have so much in common lol

But first choice was Zeus because Athena was/is taken and I wanted them to still be one of the gods... Also I can see them making lamb choose between themselves and their crew... Evil like the time they made me kill my faves >:( but idk...

But Athena again they have so much in common but also... Having shamura on lamb's side is strange to me but aaaadfd you feel me?

The red fox as scylla

We are the same you and I... I don't think I have to say more 🥴

Claunek as the prophet

Yeah I think is obvious

Chemak as Hermes or Aeolus

Mostly for the vibe and because both give lamb something really important lol

Sozo as Aeolus or Hermes

Same as before

Jalala as Calypso.

Yes yes is because of the crush on lamb

Webber as Telemachus.

Just for the vibes and he's my child

Helob as antinous

Again vibes...

Baal as apollo.

You know at this point I'm going for exclusions but I can see that and I like what I see

Aym ar hares.

Because angry kitty is my fave

Forneus as era

Because she's mother 🔥

Kudaai as Ephesus

Another obvious one, more because of the character than the song I guess

Monch can be Aphrodite

But idk... It's hard because my head goes back to the hares and Aphrodite relationship...

So Aphrodite is open to changes

Mystic seller as Charybdis???

Maybe??? Or maybe not

is hard chat

Anyone that was left out: I don't know who I should give them lol pls help

[fecklesheckleshacklesschmeckles]

SPOILERS for Inside No 9: Stage/Fright!

I was lucky enough to attend the matinee performance on 25th Jan, and now I'm going to ramble about it :D

I'm given to understand that y'all who want them are already adequately furnished with plot summaries etc (excited to read them! waiting to do so until after I've got all this down) - so I won't worry about deep-diving. This'll be a mix of things that particularly struck me, and details that would have been unique to the performance I saw :)

I sneakily secretly got front row tickets (!!) for me and @toosicktopray, and I didn't tell them where we were going until we got there (I didn't even tell them we were going anywhere until that morning!) :D Then afterwards we got to meet up with @silverview and @unreesonable, and we ended up just chatting shit for hours! The boys didn't come to the stage door (apparently because "they're old men" :P) but that was better, frankly <3

Opening "theatre" skit/front-of-curtain prologue:

oh, this has Reece's fingerprints all over it! Getting to sit and simmer with comic rage over literally the exact same things that he's frothed with comic rage about on podcasts? Having no lines to need to learn, and then getting to do a bunch of revenge-fantasy murders? And get spattered with stage blood? Go off :3

aaaa one of Reece's secretly-poppers quick-change shirt buttons had popped open when he came front-of-curtain (probably got overenthusiastic doing his murdering) - maybe the third one down, at his upper stomach - and all I saw underneath was what I presumed to be a white undershirt, so I went back to staring at his face - but toosicktopray caught a little glimpse of his fluffy tummy above it!! (so it was probably actually his mic belt or something)

BCDR:

When they knocked down the wall during Brown Bottles, there was this great WHOMPH of air (and bits of dust and stuff, according to toosicktopray :P) right into the front row :O

Also it took Reece/Tommy two goes to actually smash the brown bottle over Steve/Len's head :P (the first time it just went "boink" XD)

Credit where it's due, Steve's very good at doing the not-actually-his-own-hand stuff :D (love me some of that shit). I'd say not all of the routines necessarily worked as well live as they do with the camera angles in the ep, but imo honestly that one was better :)

Kidnappers Sketch:

Wheelie bin with an 18 (1+8 = 9, or two 9s) on it in the background scenery!

toosicktopray saw the hare. Where? There, on the stair!

I'm not the biggest Quiet Night In enjoyer, but I liked the characters better with dialogue, tbh :)

It took Reece/Tommy(/Geoff or whoever the fuck he's being) two goes to fire the gun XD "It's not even loaded. [gun doesn't go off] I'll try that again."

Our special celebrity guest was Gary Kemp! He really went for it, to the extent that I think Reece was breaking character (smirking) a bit while e.g. waiting for him to finish a much longer flamenco than expected XD The charade (as has been documented) was "Car Reek Hemp", and it was quite funny watching Reece frantically yell out lots of synonyms for hemp, which Steve was miming as you might expect ("dope! skunk! uh, weed!"). Couldn't help thinking about "The Quiet Ones! The Quiet Things! Be Quiet...!" The way Len incensed him was to keep singing "I know this much is true" except substituting in e.g. "glue", "poo". Missed opportunity to callback it in Tears of Laughter ("laughter is my memory of poo" "it's you!"), which would have been overambitious/flow-breaking, but amusing. Also jokes about mistaking him for his brother :P ("I loved you in Eastenders!" "That was Martin!" "I thought your brother was called Reggie?" "That's the Krays!")

Briefly glimpsed Reece's trademark cartoonist block lettering on the pad they hold up for the celeb to read off! <3 I feel like the bit of paper with '9'/'6' on it might have been his handiwork too?? The attention to detail <3

Terreur de l'Asile

Pahahaha well now it's getting bonkers :D

Ticked off my bingo card: Reece going boink boink boink :3 (in the Elements Song)

Ticked off Reece's bingo card: getting forcibly restrained with one arm bent up behind his back :P If you had complete creative co-control over what you had to do once a day for the next ten weeks (and twice on Saturdays)...

ohoho speaking of which how about Steve taking control of your mind and forcing you to do his bidding o.O

I like Hugo's character design :) Always a fan of braces! I think I used to have a pair that was quite similar, actually, which was distracting :P And his floofy curls :D

I like Marcus too! With his wig that's kind of just a younger Reece's hair :P wandering around in his bloodstained sawn-off pyjamas XD Very here for both the ludicrous melodrama and the arch meta reveal :P

Kooky popstar woman was so good! They were all great, but her especially :) doing her "dead face" and her hammy audition tape :D

Ahh the conceit with her taking the camera backstage was so imaginative and super creepy! Shades of Dead Line. Christ, when the person unseen picks the camera back up again D:

Oh no, poor Reece, having to get choked to death every night and twice on Saturdays :3 (but also, having to embody any degree of sexual energy just beforehand, which... not really his forte?! :P)

Curtain call, and beyond:

Ahhh that was a fun show. Wait, what? WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK, STEVE? STEVE! YOU'RE MAKING ME FEEL INSANE! Oh my god there's MORE, what NOW?! :D

Hahhh omg he killed him again XD

"Reece Shearsmith, 1969-2025" now that's fucking ballsy to do in January X'D

Hahhh omg he killed him again!!

Aaaah Reece in his pretty white Marty Hopkirk getup! <3

Ticked off Reece's bingo card: be a ghost :3 god he'd fucking love that... "if nobody can see me, then nobody can notice me, then I can't do anything wrong" D:

"All I get is fucking Little Toby!" okay FIRST OF ALL: Toby's real name is Toby :D and SECOND OF ALL: Reece calling his own understudy little?! :D

The idea of Reece falling to his death through a trapdoor shouldn't be as weirdly delightful as it is XD

For the James Acaster enjoyers: "Every ghost story is a love story when you love ghosts" :P (- toosicktopray)

Good gracious, they have never been so Morecambe and Wise as suddenly appearing in top hat and tails stage left while all the chorus folks are vigorously waving fans stage right :P

Awww, they finally found another Nine to be Inside, and it was Cloud! :3

Loose change thoughts:

Bloody lovely use of lighting throughout - subverting things by turning it on the audience, using bright light to mask what's happening in darkness (e.g. suddenly fucking Little Toby!!) - and I didn't know using onstage cameras/screens was becoming a theatre trope, but I enjoyed how they messed with it :)

OK, so, some of Reece's characters wear glasses (including "himself", wearing his "own" "everyday" glasses), and some don't - fascinated to know whether he's got prescription costume glasses and is just pushing through the blur the rest of the time (seems both unlikely and unsafe!), OR whether he's wearing contacts and all the glasses are fake including his "own" "everyday" glasses <3

A perfectly entertaining show all round but dear god when they pulled us into Steve's shared hallucination that fucking Little Toby had been Reece all along it felt like a crackfic unfolding before my very eyes XD Utterly deranged behaviour and it tickled me so much!! The canon-typical meta nonsense and fridge uncanniness of it all! The implication that we too are so obsessed with Reece that we hallucinate him along with Steve (uhh don't @ me)! The way it retroactively both completely centres Reece in the narrative (even when he's playing a character) (me staring at every Reece character going "mmm, Reece": justified) and simultaneously completely erases him from it!... GO OFF, LADS XD

And the fucking audacity of them to position themselves as in the Morecambe and Wise mould! People will hate it and I bloody love it XD I mean, yes, to us, the fans, the comparison is perfectly apt - silly fluffy adorably-close Northern comic geniuses - but imagine, for the casual viewer/journo - it's those two ghoulish twisted fuckers from that thing in the 90s with the nosebleeds, what's their names again, that write those gory bleak plays full of death and tragedy and then slap the "BBC Comedy" logo on them, and they're playing at being the most famous, beloved and wholesome comedy double act in the history of British television?! Oh my fucking god I can't wait for press night ;)

Similarly, the way it was basically wall-to-wall vaudeville and knob gags, which, sure, we expect (and frankly makes the most entertaining use of their talents in a live setting - it's well-executed vaudeville and knob gags), but, uh, probably has more Actual JokesTM total than the entire TV series put together (and about 300% less horror and heartbreak than your average ep). Again, I was utterly down for it! Some folks... will be less so XD

Is there anything they can't do?... uh, write a single coherent two-hour plot-line, apparently XD (hey, man, I get it! I'm a one-shot guy too! ;) )

All in all, a very fun and silly time! By all means Ask Me AnythingTM, unless possibly it's about Steve, bc he could have had his fly open the whole time and I wouldn't have noticed XD

[jaimexbrienne-fic-finder]

Do you have any good recs for fics inspired by films?

This is just off the top of my head, if anyone can think of any others please add them!

Right Off the Bat by hillaryschu

to be read in 90s Movie Trailer RomCom Voice

Meet Jaime. He used to be the most infamous player in Major League baseball but a career-ending injury brought him back into the family business. He hates it. What he doesn’t hate is coaching the best Little League team in Kings Landing.

Meet Brienne. After her father’s death, she left behind a successful career in women’s competitive fastpitch to start over. She’s trying to balance life and love in a new city, all while coaching a down-and-out Little League team.

In a world where everyone is looking to connect, Jaime and Brienne discover the best way to meet someone is to never meet at all. What they don’t realize, is that they already have.

This fanfic exchange season, follow along with Brienne and Jaime as they take to one another on Twitter and battle on the ballfield. Then find out what happens when those worlds collide.

(a You’ve Got Mail AU)

Vows by theworldunseen

Jaime Lannister profiles the most interesting and romantic weddings in the country for his super popular blog, The only problem? His own heart has been stomped on, and it might have ruined weddings for him forever. When he finds out about a woman who’s going to be in her twenty-seventh wedding party, he thinks writing about her might be his way back to loving weddings. But Brienne Tarth isn’t anything he ever expected.

Inspired by 27 Dresses

Battle is the Great Redeemer by Lady_in_Red

Jaime Lannister dies in a tunnel under the Red Keep, and wakes up days earlier at Winterfell. And then it happens again. And again. But he's not the first to live the same battle over and over again. Arya Stark, the slayer of the Night King, went through it first in the Battle of Winterfell.

Edge of Tomorrow AU

A Big Cop in a Small Town by SeeThemFlying

When Brienne Tarth, a tough London copper, is forced to move to a sleepy town in Somerset to be their new police sergeant, she is partnered with Jaime Lannister, who is not happy about the whole deal. However, things are not what they seem in Casterly, and Brienne and Jaime end up uncovering a conspiracy bigger than anything they were ever anticipating.

A bit of ridiculous, murderous fun to help us all forget about Series 8!

References to a certain 2007 buddy cop comedy abound.

Hot Fuzz AU

The Ice Cream Anthology by SeeThemFlying

A series of unconnected and semi-connected Jaime/Brienne fics based on various films starring Simon Pegg:

1) "A Big Cop in A Small Town" - Hot Fuzz (2007) - Complete 2) "Woman Up" - Man Up (2015) - Complete 3) "Run, Fat Knight, Run" - Run, Fatboy, Run (2007) - Complete 4) "Lannister and Tarth" - Burke and Hare (2010) - Complete 5) "A Good Knight Sleep" - The Good Night (2007) - Complete 6) "Zombie Horror Hordes" - Shaun of the Dead (2004) - Complete 7) "Many Flavours of Ice Cream" - A Series of One Shots drawn from the ICA universes - WIP

the time of my life by djelibeybi

When Brienne arrives in King's Landing for the first time, she expects two tedious months of uncomfortable gowns, embroidering with the queen, and her father's failed attempts at matchmaking. She does not expect the Kingslayer secretly teaching her to joust, under cover of darkness, so that she can compete as him in the king's nameday tourney. And she definitely does not expect to fall in love with him.

Dirty Dancing AU

With All Your Faults by sea_spirit

In 1943, small-town slugger Brienne Tarth is recruited to play for Tywin Lannister’s newest business venture: the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. There, she meets Jaime, a maimed former Major League pitcher who’s been talked into managing one of his father’s teams. She can't stand her arrogant coach, and he is definitely not interested in his annoyingly principled star player. They don't like each other at all, really...until they do.

Loosely inspired by "A League of Their Own," with slightly less baseball and lots more love story.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hey mousy! Could you do one w/the sdv/sve bachelors hare with a farmer that is classically trained (I.e. can play violin, piano, cello etc.) thank you and have a good day :D

Hey hey, dear anon! 👋

Sure thing! Sorry for the late reply, been busy lately with holidays preparations. Anyway, thanks for the ask, and happy upcoming holidays to you! 💖

_____________________________

SDV bachelors:

Elliott was pleasantly surprised that his friend/lover had a musical education. And clearly have a talent for it, he must say! The way Farmer deftly drove their fingers on the keys of Elliott's piano, that if they wanted to become a pianist, with such talent they would already be signing autographs and giving concerts right away. This, by the way, made Farmer's praise of Elliott's own piano playing even more pleasant to the writer. Elliott wouldn't mind taking a couple of lessons from Farmer, but he doesn't want to impose himself, especially since his passion is poems and novels, and playing the piano is secondary.

Hey, so it turns out all of Sam's friends are musicians like himself! Cool! Although Farmer's classical cello playing differs from Sammy's electric guitar in musical genre, he thinks that Farmer would be a great addition to his musical group. Come to think of it, classical music with rock or metal - now that would be awesome! Well, if Farmer wants to of course. If not, and they're just playing for themself, Sammy's still waiting for them to come to his house to visit, hang out and play musical instruments together (as long as his mom Jodi doesn't ban them for loud noice).

Sebastian, like his more energetic best friend, is very good at playing the synthesiser, practising either in his room in the basement or at Samm's. He's generally self-taught, without much experience or specialised training like Farmer, and he's not too obsessed with playing, devoting his main time to programming. But his cheeks flush a little when Farmer, an experienced pianist as they proved to Sabby, compliments his skills and encourages him not to quit playing. Heh, maybe Sabby will reflect on his friend/lover's words. Maybe he'll even start online lessons, and then he and Farmer will play a duet.

Honestly, Shane was quite interested in hearing about music from Farmer, though the chicken man didn't really understand anything Farmer told him about musical theories or showed him music notebooks. He had once wanted to learn to play the trombone as a child, but lessons cost money, and his family... well, somehow things had worked out that way. He was a bit taken aback when Farmer offered to teach him for free. Heh, thanks, but he thinks he's too old and uneducated for that. Will give it a shot if Farmer is his partner, though. At the very least, to understand what Farmer is talking about regarding music and to play a duet for Jas and Marnie.

Harvey and Farmer's conversation over music came up quite casually, during another medical check-up, and Harvey listened to them talk about their hobbies. Farmer mentioned the cello and their years of practice on the musical instrument. The doctor was extremely surprised and jokingly told them to demonstrate their skills. To which Farmer pulled out their cello and began to play. Harvey stood a bit shocked at first (how did that instrument fit in Farmer's backpack??) but then just stood there and enjoyed the music, remembering to applaud them at the end. Talented people are talented at everything, aren't they?

Alex is absolutely delighted. Wow, Farmer and smart and can grow any crop, still play different musical instruments. Only recently the athlete heard them playing the harp in the middle of the woods, and now they're expertly driving a bow on a violin in a public garden, gathering a bunch of locals. His friend/partner is so cool, when he himself has even read one book in full.... No, that's definitely not the spirit. Alex doesn't want to give up, and even wants to try to learn to play an instrument! Yeah, why not! Just for himself. Play a tune for his grandparents for their birthday, for example. Or demonstrate his progress to Farmer. That'd be cool.

SVE bachelors:

Lance knew that Farmer was a very talented violinist even before Farmer told him so. The gallant adventurer had once accidentally caught them in the Cindersap forest where they were playing their violin, filling the forest with truly magical music. Lance even noticed that the local animals and birds did not run away from Farmer, but, mesmerised, watched them play. He travelled to Stardew Valley often through Magnus's portal, hoping that as he passed through the forest he would hear their music again. Oh, and Lance hopes his friend/partner doesn't take it the wrong way, he just didn't want to bother Farmer during their play at the time.

Oh, Victor loves classical music, and Farmer has a clear talent for it! He and his mother used to go to theatres for solo musicians' performances, where they applauded and gave bouquets of flowers to famous pianists and violinists after their play. The way Farmer skilfully plays the music of famous classics, and even writes their own compositions in notebook when they're not busy with their main job as farmer, inspires Victor to try something new. He loves bridges and everything to do with them, but he might try hiring tutors and learning to play the piano. Or maybe cello. He can't decide.

Of course, Magnus knew that Farmer had achieved such masterful harp playing because of their talent, diligence, and long training. Well, a good teacher was also important. He knew of Farmer's talent even before they first visited the Valley. Hmm, funny... the wizard began to notice that when he hears the melody of a harp in the forest, he almost always forgets all his business, stands at the window of the tower and enjoys the music with the sounds of nature. Sometimes even with a cup of tea. Farmer truly does real magic with harp. Magnus himself does not play music, at most he can make the instruments play themselves with spell, but it doesn't compare to real skill, he thinks.