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yuulina-vre · 4 years ago

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Gifting you a new life

Finding the hint

Pairing: Steve x Bucky, Reader insert

Warnings: None

Word count: 3731 words

Part: Two

Summary: Bucky struggles a litte through his workday

Masterlist

* * *

Bucky wakes up tiredly. The night wasn’t one of the best he ever had but it wasn’t as bad as the worst ones. Nightmares and restlessness had him captured and awake for half of the night. Now he doesn’t really feel rested, but he’s used to it by now. His shoulder aches as he sits up. He winces slightly, starting to massage around on the scarred flesh of his stump for a moment, then rolling his shoulder and ignoring the slightly dulled pain. After throwing the blanket off his lap he yawns wide and long before he stands up to stretch his arm as high as he can. He throws a quick glance at his metal prosthetic that he had taken off before bed. He still can’t decide if he likes or hates it, even after years of having it. It makes the everyday life easier but at the same time it’s a struggle to put on by himself, he can’t feel with it and sometimes he calculates his strength wrong and smashes glasses and the like. One thing that’s makes no difference are the looks. He gets them if he wears the arm and he gets them I he doesn’t, but by now he’ s at least used to that.

With a sigh he lets the arm stay in his box and walks to the bathroom and straight to the mirror. After seeing his reflections, he sighs again, this time in annoyance. His hair is a mess! It’s tangled up nicely and look like a mop, not hair at all. Maybe he really should cut it at some point. He had grown it out since he got honorably discharged from active duty. That was about three years ago.

He eyes his reflection with a slight frown, brushes his hair but doesn’t try to even get it somehow presentable, just pulls it up into a bun. Then he undresses as best as he can with one arm and steps into the shower to quickly get rid of the sweat of the night, from dreams he can’t even remember anymore.

After stepping out of the shower into the now steam filled room, he feels more awake and refreshed. His hair is now a wet mess in a bun since he didn’t pay attention to it and got it all wet. But he doesn’t mind.

Wrapped up in a towel around his waist and holding it with his hand he leaves the bathroom again to sit back down on his bed. His eyes wander back to the arm in the box. He silently debates if he should put it on today or not. Sometimes he rather not wears it when his shoulder hurts already it makes attaching the arm difficult and the pain will grow over the day but without it his workday will be a struggle to handle. After a few minutes of back and forth he garbs his prosthetic, letting the towel fall from his hips. It’s not like someone can see him running around naked anyway. Aside from Maggie but she’s not even here. Bucky struggles a little with getting the arm attached to his shoulder. It always hurts a little afterwards which is now worse since his shoulder is, in fact, hurting already. “Come on you fucking piece of- Aha” he curses a little until he finally manages to get the damned thing on. He really hates this arm. Maybe. Probably. He rotates his arm and shoulder for a while, massages the scarring again to prevent the stiffness from setting in just yet. It feels a little heavy at first, like it’s dragging his right side down, but Bucky knows that it’s just because he actually wears his prosthetic for the first time in three days and the feeling will vanish the longer he wears it. He carefully flexes his metal hand a few times, testing the strength and motion before he lift himself from his bed to shuffle over to his closet. He gets one of his favorite shirts and a pair of boxers and pants to get dressed in before he leaves the room to walk downstairs to his kitchen. Once again, he’s reminded that his house is actually too big for just him. He used to live here with his siter but since she married a few years ago he’s living all by himself in the house he grew up in. he thought about selling the place a few times by now but never really got it in him to follow through. There were just too many memories of his parents and his childhood in the walks and floor. Each cracking step, whistling of wind that squeezes past the windows, each little ting that need renovating or replacing has its own memory to tell. So, he stays. Maybe he adopts a dew more cat. Maggie probably feels lonely when he’s not home anyway. Yawning tiredly again, still not really awake, he switches on the coffee machine before he starts the toaster. While waiting for his toast he goes to one of the cabinets to retrieve some of Maggie’s favorite food and fills it in her bowl, whistling for her, so she knows food’s ready. Then he walks back to his table, grabs his toasts and some stuff to put on them, grabs his coffee and starts his breakfast, all while scrolling through his phone. He’s almost finished eating when he hears a meow from behind him. Bucky turns around only to be greeted by a white, black-footed fluffy cat that stares up at him with sparkling amber eyes. “Hey you. Finally, back? I waited for hours last night.” Bucky glares at his little girl but Magnolia only meows again, rubbing her head against his leg with a purr before stalking over to her food. Bucky shakes his head and silently curses himself for being so soft for the fur ball. “You know, one of these days I see you stealing my credit card to buy yourself some staff or something. You do what you want, huh?” The cat meows again, looks up at him and flicks its tail as if to say that he’s damn right. Bucky chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. For feeding I’m good enough, I know.” Snorting he drinks the last of his coffee, gets up and disposes everything into the sink to wash up later. Then he walks to Maggie, bends down and picks her up into his arms. She struggles for a second, not pleased to be interrupted while eating breakfast but then settles down, rubbing her head under his chin with some more purring. A smile creeps on Bucky’s face, he starts scratching under Maggie’s chin and kissing her fluffy head until his gaze switches to the clock on the wall. It’s late already but he figures that he can take five minutes to cuddle with his favorite girl. He strokes though the cat’s fur, letting her purr against his chest while she still rubs her head against his chin and shoulder. As much as Maggie loves to be outside, striving through the wilderness of his garden, she loves to cuddle with him, too. Sometimes Bucky thinks that she has more dog than cat in her genes. She always seems to know when he’s not feeling well or is in pain. She comes running up to him, greatly takes her places on his lap or chest and stays there, purring contently and letting the man stroke through her fur until he’s feeling better, or she decides he has to suck it up already. Sometimes she stays as long as Bucky lets her, and he has to admit that it can be pretty long. He loves her small warm body purring against his skin. Magnolia is really good at comforting, too.

The little white ball meows again and Bucky kisses her head once more. “I know, I need to get ready.” He sets her down watching her walking back to her food. “See you later, Maggie. Don’t do stupid stuff. And don’t scratch the couch again. I know it was you!” He points at the cat, but Magnolia just throws an innocent look at him, munching happily. He shakes his head before he walks to his wardrobe in the hall, slips on his ID card for the military and takes the dog tags form the key hooks where they always hang. He stokes his thumb carefully over the old and damaged metal, lingering for a moment in some memories. These tags are the only thing that he still has from his time as a soldier. They aren’t his though, oh no. He gave his own to his sister for keeping safe util he’s ready to take them back again. These ones are somebody else’s. They’re from the man that he rescued. A comrade, a total stranger. He pushed him away as a grenade exploded which made the stranger fall down a small cliff. That was the day he lost his arm. He can’t remember much about the day, let alone the face of the Captain he saved. Since he retired his service and works in the lost-and-found section of the military he tries to find the man. For five years now. He still has no clue who he is or where to find him. He doesn’t even know if he’s still alive or if he died that day. No one could help him, and no one seems to know the man. At least no one he talked to. The team is so damaged that the only things he knows are, that the man had the rank of a Captain and his last name ends with ‘gers’. So, he carries the tags with him, as reminder and in hopes to finally find a clue one day and get the chance to give them back. He carefully slips them into his jeans pocket, takes his car keys, locks the door and walks over to his car. The old thing looks like it’s falling apart some day and Bucky really hopes that his motorcycle will be repaired by tomorrow. He hates his car.

* * *

The moment he opens the door to his office at the community center he sighs. He managed to get across the whole place without anyone stopping him to have a chat. It’s not that he doesn’t like talking to anyone but if he doesn’t have to than that its totally fine for him. He likes to be alone and have his silence. He only greeted some people he knows pretty well, and actually likes.

Now he collapses into his chair with a huffed sigh. It’s not that he has much to do but the few things he has to do are tiring. Carding through old files, newspaper, calling the archive of the military and so on. A lot of running around, too. And all that just to return some old things to retired soldiers or their remaining family. The things mostly consisted of dog tags, photos sometimes clothes that were found on battlefields or while sorting through other stuff somewhere. To be fair, most of the people are very happy to get some memories to cherish. Some are not that happy and ask to get rid of the things because they dig up things that were buried a long time ago. Bucky can understand that very well, that’s why Becca has his own tags right now.Bucky rubs at his shoulder; his prosthetic seems to give him more trouble today. He wonders if his shoulder is too stiff already, it has only been two weeks since it got massaged professionally. Or if it got infected again. That happens sometimes and with all the scarring he has, the fears get more vivid that the doctor was very sloppy in his work. If he had enough money, he would go to the next best doctor, get everything fixed but that would cost a fortune and the military would not help him out since he already got his arm and operations covered before. He lets out a second sigh. What a damn mess he returned to. Everybody tells you that it will get better after returning home, after living a normal life. Bucky thinks he has more troubles now then he had before. A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts. He looks up just as it opens and a brunette woman steps in. “Maria.” Maria Hill, one of Bucky’s favorite co-workers and at the same time some sort of boss, after Nick Fury of course, holds a cardboard box in her hands. “Hello James. I’ve got something new for you.”“Again? I didn’t even finish the last box.”“I know. But this might be interesting for you. The things all should be easy to get back, too.” She places the box on his table and opens it. “We got a few lost dog tags, some pictures form wife’s and children, clothes and all the usual.”

“Something pretty damaged?”

“No, at least not as damaged as the tags that you’re always carrying around.” She musters his feature as his hand instantly raises to the pocket. “Did you find any clue by now?” She raises her eyebrows, looking really interested. She always tries to help him find the mysterious Captain but until now there’s no lead. “No.” Bucky sighs defeated, flopping back in his chair. “The guy seems to have vanished. I found some guys who were in the same area as we were back then, but no one seems to be either around here or to remember. Just have to keep looking.”

“Did you look through protocols?”

“Yeah, and I asked Peggy. But nothing ‘til now.”

“You’ll find him eventually.” Maria pats him on the shoulder with a kind smile. “Anyway, this here might be a little easier. The tags are pretty good to read, so you shouldn’t have any difficulties to find the ones to return them to. Some of the photos even have names written on the back, could be some kind of help.”

“Thanks.” Bucky gifts her a small smile before he pulls the box closer to look through it. Maria looks him over for a while. “It’s bad again, huh?”

“Hm?” Bucky looks up at her, wondering what she means this time. “Your shoulder. You’re holding it in a protective posture again.” She nods at his shoulder before she crosses her arms. “I don’t understand why you aren’t asking Fury for a new one.”

“Because his answer is going to be the same as last time.” Now Bucky leans back in his chair, crossing his own arms over his chest. “He’s going to say that I already got a new arm, and that the military isn’t a charity organization. We don’t repair what’s already been repaired.” Bucky rolls his eyes and sees Maria do the same. “Should I talk to him?”

“No. I will talk to Phil, try to find out if I have any other option so I don’t need to pay everything on my own. Since then, I have to live with this.” He shrugs his shoulder and suppresses a wince as a sharp pain shoots through it. Maria seems to notice it, her face darkens a bit, but she says nothing to it, well knowing Bucky will deny it if she points it out. “Fine. But do it quickly. It wouldn’t help when your shoulder is too damaged to repair anything.” She is almost out of the door as she turns to him again. “James. Nick says you still have to take your vacation. If you haven’t taken it by the end of the month, he’s going to force you.” He looks up, feeling a little uncomfortable but nods at the woman. “I know.” He watches as Maria leaves before he leans back in his seat again. It’s really not that he doesn’t want a vacation, he just doesn’t know what to do with all the time. He has no family left to visit besides Becca who lives in the same town, no other half to take on dates, Magnolia would disagree, though. She likes it when he spoils her rotten all day and would gladly have him home for a week or so. A vacation also means that he has way too much time to think, too. After he lost his arm he was in a really dark space of his head. It had taken his therapist almost two and a half years to get him back out of it and since then Bucky always tries to take as less free day’s as he can. Still, Fury always insist that he takes his vacation and always makes sure he really does.

While he goes through the contents of the box, he sees a photo that somehow catches his attention. On it is a man, clearly a higher ranged soldier with a woman. They’re both smiling at the little blonde boy in the man’s arms. The boy seems to be around five years old, has a lost tooth but he seems a bit smaller than other kids Bucky has ever seen at that age. He’s also very thin but his eyes shine with happiness as he hugs his dad while laughing. The photo is well used with all sorts of bends and folds in it. The edges turned a little yellow with time and are a little frayed. He keeps looking at it for a while longer and sets his mind to find the owner to this one first. He turns the photo around to see if somethings written on it. “Sarah and me with our little sunshine. 1993.” Bucky reads out aloud. He turns the picture again and thinks for a moment. Where should he start to search? He decides to run down to the archive to ask Peggy about it. She usually has some good ideas to help him.

* * *

The archive, like almost all archives, is down in the basement of the whole compound. It’s pretty big and each time Bucky is down here he asks himself how Peggy still knows where to find something. Margeret ‘Peggy’ Carter is one of Bucky’s favorite woman. She’s kind and almost always likes to chat with him, always knowing what to say and when to be silent. She listens to him and is actually the only one that never showed him some kind of pity. She always says what she thinks and is honest with him. He appreciates it very much. Peggy even established the lost-and-found unit for the military, having lost her own husband in a war.

He knocks lightly on the door and waits for Peggy to call him in. Never would he dare to just enter. Peggy can be really scary when she wants to be, and he learned that lesson more than once. “Come in.”

“Hello, Peg.”

“Bucky. How nice to see you.” The elderly woman smiles at him and waves him over. “What brings you down here?”

“I need your help.”

“Oh, what for this time?”

“I have this picture. Do you happen to know this man or where I can find something about him?” He passes the picture over to her and she eyes it for a while before turning it over. The year that’s on the paper is one year before Peggy lost her husband, so she knew many soldiers at that time. She hums and mutters to herself before she stands up and shuffles away to vanish behind some of the shelves. Twenty minutes later she comes back with a big box of folders. “This are all the soldiers that got send away in 1993. Let’s see if he was one of them. He looks kind of familiar, but I don’t have a name to that face.” Bucky nods and they go through folder after folder until Peggy hums. “I knew he’s familiar. He was the one to always get me some cake on my birthday. And his little boy was a really sweet one. He drew me lots of pictures, quite talented actually.”

“Show me?” Bucky holds his hand out for the folder and Peggy passes it to him with a bitter expression. “The poor boy. He must be around your age now. Joseph was a really nice man. But in 1993 he was sent to this stupid mission.” The brunette woman shakes her head with a displeased sound. “Something top secret.” She scoffs and Bucky can clearly see what she thinks about it. That kind of mission happe more that one would think and never do the families hear what really happened to their loved ones when they pass away while being shipped off. “The man never came back. Sarah had to raise Steve all on her own. The boy had lots of sicknesses and Sarah had to manage double shifts in the hospital and caring for the boy when he was ill again.” Bucky looks up from the folder and passes it back to Peggy. “You seem to know a lot about them.”

“Sure do. Sarah brought Steve over from time to time. I told her I would look for her little troublemaker if she needs to pull extra shifts. Until he turned thirteen, I think, he was like a nephew. Then Sarah had to move away. Her rent was too high, and I lost contact.” Bucky nods and looks back down at the picture. “Do you know where I can find her?”

“On the cemetery I’m afraid. I think Sarah died a few years ago. The boy must have turned 18 or so.” Bucky raises his eyebrows and looks down at the picture once more. “Seems like a bad life for him so far.” He picks the picture up and looks at Peggy again. “Do you know where he lives now?”

“No. Dear god, if I would know where everybody’s children moved, I would know whole America.” She frowns at him, but her eyes still sparkle. Bucky guesses she has some nice memories returning right now. “Okay, okay, Peggy.” Bucky raises his hands with an amused laugh. “Need some help to get these away before I leave.”

“I got this, you just go and make this boy a bit happier. I remember he was really sad back then. He loved his father.” She waves at Bucky as he leaves.

Pervious Part / Next Part

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x Steve #Reader #reader insert #Yuulina writes #Steve x Bucky

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lunawho47 · 4 years ago

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Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Mysterious Doctor and the Omen of the Blue Box (Part 1)

Fandoms: Buzzfeed Unsolved and Doctor Who

Genre: Total Crackfic, Humor

Rating: 16+ (for language)

Summary: A script for Buzzfeed Unsolved, in which our two favorite jackasses, the Ghoul Boys, discuss the various internet theories surrounding the identity of various mysterious figures known only as “the Doctor” and the blue box that tends to appear around them. Well, Ryan wants to discuss the theories; Shane thinks it’s all urban legends and bullshit.

A/N: So, I’ve read a lot of these mock scripts going around for Unsolved discussing CW’s Supernatural as though it was real, and I thought they were hilarious.�� So, my brain started wondering what theories the reddit and conspiracy boards would think up about mentions of the Doctor, the Doctor’s companions, UNIT, and Torchwood. And to be honest, my brain came up with A LOT of theories that would make sense, and this format seemed a fun way to discuss all of them. It was originally going to be a one shot, but as I started writing, Shane kept interrupting in my head about how stupid all of it sounds, and that kept making the script longer and longer. So, it’s now going to be a few parts long cos the history of DW (even when seriously truncated) takes a long time to go through when you try to use the serials to make arguments about the Doctor’s potential identity(s).

So, here’s part 1. Please let me know if you like it and would like to see more. And if Shane and Ryan sound anything like themselves because if they don’t then the whole thing is nowhere near as funny as it should be.

Ryan: Today on Buzzfeed Unsolved we're looking into the puzzling mystery of an entity known only as "The Doctor" and the corresponding omen of a blue box. It's a mystery that, in its more comprehensive moments, is whimsically strange and, most of the time, is just plain batshit bizarre.

Shane: Okay, so I can hear the air quotes around the name, and you called it an entity. Are we talking like, cryptid creature that is based in reality or am I going to be sitting through theories about zombie plagues and Ant-man Ax murderers again? Just what am I in for here?

Ryan: No zombie plagues, and the Doctor has never murdered anyone with an ax. At least, not in any of the records available. It's just...well, it's hard to explain here, so let's just get right into it. Just bear in mind this is Gene Wilder Willy Wonka levels of weird when it's at its most sensical. And it's rare that this story makes any sense at all.

Shane: Alright, I'll confess I'm...intrigued. I'm ready to listen.

Ryan: Alright, here we go. *opens folder*

Ryan (in his Unsolved VO): The first documented evidence of a being calling itself "The Doctor" is in the files of now deceased British UNIT officer Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.

Shane: Wait. UNIT? What's that? Sounds like something out of a video game.

Ryan: (wheeze) It does a bit, yeah. But there is paperwork evidence that verifies this group -- lame as the acronym is -- actually existed. They were set up in the mid-1960s by the United Nations to look into unexplained phenomena and for a long time they were a covert operation. The British Prime Minister knew they existed, and they answered to Geneva, but they weren't known to the wider public until after they shut down three years ago.

Shane: I'm sure that meeting went GREAT. 'Hey, everybody, thanks for coming down this Monday morning. Erm...thanks for protecting us from alien invasions for the last 50 years and for keeping such a great secret about it. Here's your reward: you're all fired, and we're going to tell the entire world what your names were and let you deal with the press about it for the rest of your life. Have a great rest of your Monday!' (Wheeze) What a bunch of shitty bosses.

Ryan: I mean, based on what little there is to read about how UNIT operated, the Brigadier we'll be talking about really had to go to bat for the organization in front of the Prime Minister a lot over the years in order to keep the operation going. After the Brigadier died, they were able to keep going for awhile, but as you'll see from some of these stories we'll be looking at today, the organization was considered obsolete long before it was disbanded.

Shane: Okay, so the Doctor first appears in conjunction with this UNIT?

Ryan: Right, so in the 1960s, there was some weird circumstance that led to the London Underground shutting down and the Brigadier, who was only a Colonel in the regular British army at the time, ran into what he described as a "(quote) man with a foppish haircut, ratty waistcoat, and tartan patterned clown pants; a young teenage girl; and a full Scotsman (end quote)."

Shane: So which is the Doctor?

Ryan: In this case, it's the first description. The man with the clown pants on. (wheeze)

Shane: (wheeze) Do you think he had clown shoes on, too?

Ryan: See, I know exactly what you're picturing right now. You're thinking of a guy with a depressing Beatles haircut and complete clown regalia, including the extra large shoes.

Shane: I am. 100% And you know, given some of the things we saw when traveling around London, including on (*with a terribly fake posh Oxbridge accent*) the Tube, a man dressed as a clown running around the platforms underground wouldn't even register as weird on a normal day.

Ryan: (Conceding) That is true. And on a normal day, I'd agree with you. But, bear in mind, this was the 1960s -- not the modern day -- and the Tube at the time was closed to the public because of this unknown threat the army was trying to deal with. And what's even more notable -- the reason why the future Brigadier apparently wrote about it in his official report to the Prime Minister -- is that the man who called himself the Doctor, together with the two other civilians, saved the day. The details are sparse, but the Brigadier makes it clear that the Doctor is the one who figured out what was really going on and managed to deal with whatever the situation was with minimal casualties.

And that's just the first time the Doctor and the future Brigadier crossed paths. There are later documents that report the Brigadier -- now promoted from Colonel and officially a Brigadier -- came across the same man and Scotsman, but a different young girl in London just weeks after the military organization known as UNIT was founded. And AGAIN, whatever the situation actually was, the Doctor and his friends were the ones that helped UNIT save the day.

Shane: Am I the only one who finds it suspicious that the details are always missing? Like, shady organization set up by the government to look into extraterrestrial happenings? Sure. (*puts hands in the air in surrender to argument*) I'll buy that. Governments do shady shit all the time. But, I mean, things like shutting down the London Underground and alien happenings in the city of London itself. People are going to notice, right? And how shitty are the Brigadier's write ups that no one remembers or knows any of the happenings in Britain's capital? "Dear Prime Minister, stuff happened. Doctor did some other stuff. Stuff stopped. The end. TTYL." Sounds like someone was crap at his job and when things just luckily worked out, everyone just swept it under the rug.

Ryan: You see, I would agree with you there. BUT...there are pictures. We can't show them to the audience because of copyright, but if you know where to look online, people love to discuss the Doctor and all the people who have gone missing while looking for the Doctor, so. Investigate at your own peril. But, Shane, here you go.

*the audience can't see the photos hidden by Ryan's open folder, but we see Shane's expression.*

Shane: (*laughs*) That Doctor looks like a moron. I mean, I still think the Brigadier must have been crap at his job, but he was bang on his descriptor of the Doctor looking like a clown. And I take it the guy in the kilt is the Scotsman?

Ryan: Yeah, I looked up what full Scotsman means when I read the description and apparently it means a guy who wears a kilt with no underwear on underneath it. Before that, I just assumed that it meant this other guy was wandering around the Underground, playing bagpipes and singing songs from Highlander or something.

Shane: You thought this guy was wandering around singing Who Wants to Live Forever over a decade before the film came out. (wheeze)

Ryan: Well, when we get into the theories that idea won't seem entirely out of place, I don't think.

Shane: Well, I'm going to go ahead and call a preemptive bullshit on that theory.

Ryan: Noted.

Ryan: (back in Theory VO) The next record of the Doctor's appearance comes about in the 1970s when a man is admitted to a local hospital after collapsing outside of a blue box in the woods.

Shane: There was a blue box in the woods? Like, human sized or was he scrunched up in it like Shroedinger's cat?

Ryan: We'll get back to the box in a minute, but it's larger than a human, yeah. In fact, it was something called a Police Public Call Box, which were common to see on city or town street corners in Britain in the 1950s and 1960s. The idea was that if police or citizens saw a crime being committed, they could either phone the police from the box or shove the criminal in the police box and go fetch a policeman. But what's weird about the box in this case is: 1) it's in the middle of the woods, and not even on like, a hiking path or anything. But, the legit WOODS. And 2) it's the 1970s and police call boxes are no longer really a thing at this point. But, once the man calling himself the Doctor gets to the hospital it gets even stranger.

Shane: I mean, everything about this story so far feels like the Brigadier spinning a yarn, but keep going.

Ryan: So, the Brigadier gets a phone call from the hospital that a man called the Doctor has been admitted to the hospital.

Shane: Wait, how did the hospital know to call the Brigadier about that? Was there a national bulletin? Is the Doctor a wanted man or something?

Ryan: I don't know, man. Maybe the police just call UNIT whenever something with the label "fucking weird" comes across their desk. I don't know. This is just what the report says.

Ryan: (theory voice) Due to a situation UNIT was overseeing in the area at the time, the Doctor's appearance was notably auspicious for the Brigadier, so the UNIT officer went to see if his friend could help with the investigation. However, when he got the hospital, he discovered that he the man calling himself 'The Doctor' was not anyone he recognized.

Shane: Wait...what?

Ryan: (laughing). I told you the situation at the hospital is weird. So, the Brigadier is told that this man who has helped him out before has been admitted to a hospital that is nearby a situation that UNIT is investigating -- a clear sign, in the Brigadier's mind, that this Doctor who is injured is the same one he's met twice before -- and then discovers that it's a completely different man.

Shane: Well, I mean...that's not *too* weird. I mean, the man is in a hospital, and you usually see doctors in a hospital. And I'm sure a lot of doctors are known more by their title than their surname. There are millions of doctors on the planet, so I don't know if two different people wanting to be called Doctor is all that unusual.

Ryan: (with a haughty smile) That makes perfect sense, but listen to this.

Ryan: (Theory voice) The Brigadier assumed at first that the patient calling himself the Doctor was a coincidence and started to leave the room. However, he found himself called back when he heard the unknown man call the Brigadier by name. The conversation made it clear that, not only did the patient know the Brigadier's full name, but also knew the circumstances under which the Doctor and the Brigadier had met both times before. Information which, at the time, was highly classified and known only to those in the Prime Minister's office and those who had been in the UNIT planning room at the time of the situational crises.

Shane: Okay, I'm going to call it. I'm going with spy. I think the Doctor is a code name and this guy inherited the call sign and the information from the Doctor's previous operations.

Ryan: So, you think this is like, a 007 scenario?

Shane: I mean, I'm sure you'll peddle some alien abduction theory or some other supernatural bullshit, but...yeah. I'm going spy call sign. Makes sense to me so far.

Ryan: Well, you might not be a *total* dipshit, but...we'll see. There's still quite a bit more to cover. This isn't even the tip of the weird iceberg.

Shane: (sarcastically) Oh joy...

#buzzfeed unsolved #bfu #doctor who #fanfiction #(or at least fanfic adjacent)#the mysterious doctor and the omen of the blue box

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plutau · 6 years ago

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tension between the ascendant and midheaven; part one

many people will have their ascendant and midheaven signs square one another in their charts, meaning the signs will be of the same quality (cardinal, fixed, mutable). the struggle presents itself due to the ascendant's presentation of identity and approach to life, vs. the midheaven’s presentation of the person’s desired public image, i.e. the person they wish to become, or wish to be viewed as.

this post applies to charts that don’t necessarily have the ascendant and midheaven aspecting one another (as we’re looking more so at how the signs present themselves in these positions), however the tension will present more strongly should they aspect.

aries ascendant -- capricorn midheaven

aries risings tend to come off as the more boisterous of the bunch. the heads of the zodiac, they have a “large and in charge” attitude, as they’re fiercely independent and enthusiastic. they keep their emotions within arm’s reach, and can come off as aggressive or blunt, or bubbly and sensitive -- they’re highly reactive to their surroundings. they’re the first leaders of the zodiac, and they know it; they’re also known as the “children” of the zodiac, and can come off as impulsive.

the capricorn midheaven, on the other hand, wishes to be more subdued -- its saturn influence shies away from aries’ temperament. while aries wants to have fun and get involved with others, capricorn tends to be more inwardly-focused; he wants to sit down, gather himself, and get to work. capricorn has a more serious demeanor that screams “business,” which is often read as being more mature. growing into this midheaven will mean toning down some of the rising’s brashness and gaining self-control over their reactive emotions.

how they work together: they’re both cardinal signs, which means they’re ambitious and looking to start projects. aries’ fiery enthusiasm and capricorn’s earthy steadfast work habits can form a powerhouse once the person has a clear focus on what they want to do. others can see this person as fun and bold, while also being able to get serious and down to work.

people with these placements: aisha tyler, joseph gordon-levitt, brie larson, hunter s. thompson, louis armstrong, lin-manuel miranda, stevie nicks

taurus ascendant -- aquarius midheaven

taurus risings tend to have a practical, gentle aura about them that manifests as moving somewhat slowly through the world. they take their time to smell the roses -- ruled by venus, they appreciate beauty and possessions. but they’re cautious as well, which can give off an “old school” vibe as it encourages sticking to traditions and what is known. practicality is their middle name, and they tend to look long and hard before they leap.

the aquarius midheaven wants to take that caution and throw it to the wind. it tends to embody the things that taurus is wary of: innovation, progression, novelty, and rebellion. aquarius here can feel agitated by taurus’ seeming inability to move, and wants to push taurus out of her comfort zone. aquarius wants to take what is known and flip it on its head, wanting to take action. growing into this midheaven will mean getting past a discomfort with the unknown, and looking past traditions to explore what could be.

how they work together: this is a balancing act between caution and rebellion. too much caution can leave one stagnant, while too much rebellion can be reckless. striking a balance can assist in the person taking much-needed risks, while also keeping a level head in how they pursue changes in their lives. others may see this person as timeless and calm, with minds that produce innovative and rebellious work.

people with these placements: toni morrison, carl sagan, peter jackson, ronda rousey, gene wilder, george r.r. martin, miley cyrus

gemini ascendant -- pisces midheaven

gemini risings tend to be social and chatty, yet detached, jittery, and even nervous. as the first air sign, they can be particularly hard to pin down; they just want to keep things lighthearted and fun. they’re intrigued by the fast pace of life, the coming and going of trends, topics, and fashions. they’re also focused on the intellectual side of things, and can be sponges gathering information. they tend not to dwell too deeply on things.

the pisces midheaven can struggle with gemini’s detachment on some level, as this is an emotional, deeply sensitive sign. this isn’t to say that pisces isn’t detached themselves -- they can seem to be off in their own worlds -- but their tendency to get deep into emotional ventures can make airy gemini shy away. gemini’s lightheartedness and attraction towards novelty clashes with pisces’ “old soul” nature. growing into this midheaven will mean accepting these deeper inclinations and slowing down a little to dwell on the emotional side of things, as well as the intellectual.

how they work together: as mutable signs, these two are very flexible, and are able to adapt to what life gives them. they’re both highly creative, with gemini’s need for novelty and pisces’ neptunian affinity for art and music. pisces brings some depth to gemini’s lightheartedness, while gemini can keep things moving so pisces doesn’t dwell too long. others may see this person as fun and fast-paced, with soulful, meaningful work in the arts or with helping others.

people with these placements: kamala harris, ricky martin, ben stiller, julianne moore, lebron james, rupaul, ally sheedy, katey sagal

cancer ascendant -- aries midheaven

cancer risings tend to have a soft and shy outer shell, while keeping their rather strong emotions on the inside. this is a placement about nurture and comfort, both needing to bring comfort to themselves as well as to those they’re close to. they can be prone to moodiness thanks to its moon rulership, and find their emotions are easily swayed by their given situation. this rising in particular enjoys the coziness of home. they have a tendency to see the world through rose-colored glasses, but can be very intuitive.

the aries midheaven wishes to be bolder and more straightforward with their emotions. aries is a sign that encourages action and movement, and can even be restless or reckless in how it manifests. this doesn’t sound immediately desirable for homebody cancer to take on themselves; for the most part, they would rather not have their coziness disrupted. growing into this midheaven will mean moving out of their comfort zone to embrace some of the more outwardly confident aspects that aries brings, learning how to be assertive in the midst of their gentleness.

how they work together: even though they display it differently, both cancer and aries have a well of energy within them, and finding the right outlet can be conducive to stabilizing that energy. actionable aries encourages cancer to rise to the occasion, while cancer can bring a comforting presence to the aries midheaven’s public persona. others may see this person as approachable and sweet, while also being surprisingly bold and risk-taking in their work.

people with these placements: tyra banks, jack black, zach braff, octavia butler, elisabeth moss, marvin gaye, julien solomita, julia roberts, paul rudd, angelina jolie

leo ascendant -- taurus midheaven

leo risings tend to be more open and extroverted, exuding warmth to those around them. they’re rather friendly types, and can be generous to people they hardly know. this is partly due to their ongoing search for acceptance and validation among their peers; despite their self-confidence, they’re sensitive to rejection. they like being a part of social and competitive events, enjoying their time in the spotlight. their search for attention can make them rather showy in their personality and fashion.

the taurus midheaven wishes to be more mellow and self-validating, finding issue with how leo seeks out reassurance from others. taurus is known for being occupied with their possessions, and this can give some pause to leo’s giving streak. ultimately, their differences lie in how they go about obtaining self-worth, and how they feel reassured in their accomplishments; taurus tends to depend on herself in both of these areas, while leo looks to others. growing into this midheaven will require trusting themselves, and building that self-value from the inside out, rather than from the outside in.

how they work together: both placements like to indulge in pleasures, wanting to feel good about themselves and their accomplishments. personally, this is my favorite duo, as it’s favorable for those wishing to be on the stage. leo’s friendly disposition can give way to many opportunities for practical, stability-seeking taurus, bringing a combination of charm and extroversion to the more modest midheaven. others may see this person as outgoing and proud, able to channel their wants and talents into work that is practical and long-lasting.

people with these placements: ella fitzgerald, maya angelou, tina turner, justin timberlake, josh groban, vanessa hudgens, natalie cole, selena gomez, jake gyllenhaal, marilyn monroe

virgo ascendant -- gemini midheaven

virgo risings tend to be on the more serious side, as they’re rather controlling of themselves and their surroundings. they have a deep appreciation for research and analyzing, and tend to process these things internally rather than talking about it right away. there’s a perfectionist side to them that can cause them to be preoccupied with their bodies and environment, but above that, they are helpful, practical, and detail-oriented in their day-to-day lives.

the gemini midheaven, frankly, wants virgo to loosen up a bit. gemini is known for being more of a dabbler in things, versus virgo’s tendency to focus on a few things extensively. while they’re both ruled by the same planet, gemini tends to look at the larger picture, interested in a multitude of things and not focusing on the deep stuff; this is a struggle for detail-oriented virgo. growing into this midheaven will mean moving away from the critical details in order to appreciate the unexpected, fast-moving nature of life, while also holding onto virgo's grounded common sense.

how they work together: this is an interesting combination, as they’re not only both mutable, but also both ruled by mercury. there’s a lot of mental stimulation here, and this combination can either encourage a more outgoing, searching intelligence, or intelligence gathered by being more secluded and “in their head.” others may see this person as practical and serious, perhaps being more fun and unpredictable in their work life.

people with these placements: michael b. jordan, uzo aduba, elizabeth olsen, renee zellweger, gene kelly, sarah paulson, sean astin, donald glover, tom hanks

#rising square midheaven #ascendant square midheaven #aries rising #taurus rising #gemini rising #cancer rising #leo rising #1st house #10th house #midheaven #ascendant #mine

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sealers100 · 4 years ago

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PART 2: A (brief) review of every Donald Sutherland movie (so far)

Wowee welcome back. Yes I’m still on this shit and I intend to finish it because this is probably the most fun I’ve had in quarantine apart from working night shift at a waffle house. (I wish I was kidding) I will admit this one might not be as long as the last post but I promised to deliver so here we go for part two.

Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors

I had way too much fun with this movie! The story was unique and entertaining with a creepy twist without being so scary I can’t sleep at night. It’s got not only Donald, but also Sir Christopher Lee AND Peter Cushing! Like you can’t get any more badass than that. The acting is pretty great and the music goes hard (there’s a whole segment about a musician and I’m nerding out). Donald is maybe 29 or 30 years old and its one of his earliest (his 4th) film credit and oh goodness his segment is just too much. This is definitely a must see for any Hammer Film fanatics or Sutherland fans, You’ll love it!

The Dirty Dozen

Talk about a throwback to my childhood. Again an old army movie I remember watching with my parents (however watching it again I probably shouldn’t have). The movie itself its great if your into things like Tora Tora Tora! and Kelly’s Heroes. Not a whole lot of Donald in it but what we do get it so worth it. For a “serious and professional” actor, he plays silly and weird soooooo well. I will admit this one isn't nearly as lighthearted as Donald’s scenes might make it seem. It’s an actual war movie with heavy emotions and lots of violence and is quite sad at the end (no spoilers don’t worry). It might not be one to make you cry but you can’t help feeling bad for his character. Personally I loved it but its a classic in my household so I’m a bit biased.

Start The Revolution Without Me

I quite literally choked on my coffee watching this one. Gene Wilder and Donald made a surprisingly hilarious pair and it worked so well!!! I already can’t get enough of Gene so of course this one is probably one of my all time favorite movies across the board. Basically its a switched at birth situation and takes place during the french revolution. I won’t give away too much but if you liked anything by Mel Brooks you’ll love this one. I really can’t say much without spoiling the funny bits but if you’re having a bad day, do what I did and curl up in your onesie with a bag of popcorn and let the laughter ensue.

Act of the Heart

(tw: self harm/suicide mention) Let me start out by telling you how hard it was fro me to find this damn movie and how ecstatic I was when I finally got to sit down and watch it. For anyone who doesn’t know me, my background is in vocal performance and I did a lot of work with the episcopal church in college as a soloist for churches, weddings, events and stuff so getting to see Donald as a CONCERT DIRECTOR just made my little heart explode. I was constantly geeking out at the musical parts and even got a bit of concert anxiety for the main character, Martha Hayes. She falls in love with him but of course he’s a priest (again) but this time he actually leaves the ministry for her. The movie itself is good (and the music gets my seal of approval as well) but there’s a quite a bit of triggering stuff so this one might be a bit difficult to watch for some. I will say some of these movies are quite hard to find and I had to scour the interwebs for them so if anyone wants a watch for anything on either of these lists, don’t be afraid to message me.

Little Murders

Okay so this one will be quite short because Donald is in it for a whole 10 minutes but he should have gotten a fucking oscar for it because I have never been so amazed and shocked by one of his roles as I was with this one. The movie is great if you’re into Elliot Gould (and his hair omg). But jesus Donald stole the ENTIRE MOVIE for that one brief scene. You can find clips of it on youtube just go watch it. Hell I’ll probably post it on my blog later. It’s honestly the best thing ever, and I want it played at my wedding.

Steelyard Blues

What is it with directors and casting Jane Fonda as a prostitute? I’ll never know but Donald probably had a hand in that decision because he’s the executive producer. The movie is not great by any means but its definitely not boring. Again something about him being silly and dumb he just does so well and its so jarring in this one how silly he can get. I quite enjoyed it actually and its a real change of pace for him because while I like his character, I don’t have a whole lot of sympathy for him like I did for character’s like Casanova. I mean really he doesn’t hold back in portraying Jesse Veldini as an absolute fucking moron but I think we’re supposed to laugh at his misfortunes because they genuinely are funny (I think I just like watching him suffer) And it’s really entertaining. Again, I think Donald could have easily had a career as comedic actor but it’s nice to see how easily he can switch moods.

S*P*Y*S*

Another Donald and Elliot movie and this one is pretty hilarious too. (I’m loving these funny feel good movies) The two of them are CIA spies who aren’t stupid but definitely got the short stick in their agreement with the Russians. The plot makes sense but the way it’s gone about doesn’t really click. The Dynamic between him and Elliot is always fantastic and fun to watch so it makes up for the lack of sense this movie makes. Sorry this one couldn’t be longer but there would be much to say without writing a synopsis and I’m too tired to do that for any of these.

Day of the Locust

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT! I mean jesus christ this movie was a horror show. The film itself is fine, its a great movie, but oH mY GoD!!!! Let me start by saying I didn’t watch the final scene with him in this movie because its fucking brutal and I just knew it wasn’t gonna be the kind of thing I’d needed to see. (Or anyone) Yeah I’d issue a few trigger warnings for this movie. OKAY so Donald’s character is named Homer Simpson (I’m not kidding) and my god I thought I had low self esteem, he’s literally the saddest most miserable and lonely character I think I’ve ever seen him play and he gets used by Faye Greener (Karen Black) who can go sit on a cactus for all I care, I hate that she’s the main character and the way she treats Donald is HORRIBLE AND I HATE IT. God this movie messed me up for a straight week afterward and I’m still not over it. He cries a lot in this one and just stooooooop please I can’t take it I know his character isn't accurate to the book its based on but it just makes me feel bad for him seeing Donald’s character slowly being destroyed by the toxic people around him icanttakeitanymoremovingon.

The Eagle Has Landed

I don’t know the first thing about the animosity between the Irish and the English all I know is that they don’t get along sometimes and Donald’s character this time is I think a NAzi SymPathizer?? I could be wrong but he does help them try to kidnap Winston Churchill (weird). There’s a strangely deep romance between him an a 19 year old girl (uh?) but it doesn’t really come to fruition. Overall it’s a hell of a spy movie and with fantastic performances from Robert Duvall (no I wasn’t able to recognize him) and Michael Caine. It’s a fun movie and Donald’s accent is of course, awful (just the way I like it) and steals the show yet again.

The Disappearance

Interesting fact, Celandine (the main character’s wife) is actually played by Donald’s real life wife, Francine Racette. So it makes for quite an interesting dynamic between the two characters that feels very realistic. This is a hitman movie that takes place in I think Montreal (hard to imagine a lot of Canadian hitmen) And has a surreal feeling about it through the whole movie. Again this was a difficult one to find at first and there is actually two version. One being 80 minutes and the other being 100min. I’m not sure why it was split like this but I’ve seen both versions and they aren’t missing anything they’re just structured differently. It does feel a bit weird watching love scenes knowing that she is is actual wife but it does feel very realistic. Overall the movie is pretty good if you want to see lots of him and his wife. Don’t worry I’m sure their relationship is a lot better than what’s portrayed in the film!

National Lampoon’s Animal House

If you don’t know the story of Donald and this film, here it is. He was originally offered 2% of the films earnings to be in it. Thinking it would be a flop, he refused and asked for his usual flat rate of 45,000. The film was a his and his 2% could have easily been upward of 1.2 million, and this was back in 1978. He later quoted this as one of his biggest regrets of his career. Overall his scenes are quite short but oh so funny. (This list is either very serious or very funny) I like to imagine he put a lot of himself into this role. I definitely had some professors like him in college.

Threshold

Come to think of it, I watched this one so long ago I think I forgot to put it on the last list I did. I was really surprised by how genuine this movie felt. Like everyone really put a lot into this movie but it didn’t get nearly the recognition it deserved. Its a medical drama so that probably why, but it’s got an adorably young Jeff Goldblum and I can’t help but love him and Donald in every scene they’re in together. They play off each other pretty well most of the time and I didn’t really see anything wrong with this film other than it might have been on the lower end of filming budgets but it wasn’t a bad movie. It deserved better.

Ordeal by Innocence

I wish I could say the same for this movie. On it’s own its an alright film. On it’s own the soundtrack is fine too. But when the put the two together It was jarring as hell. The acting and story were okay and could have been fine alone but the soundtrack really broke any chance this film had of being taken seriously. I would have loved to seen it just on it’s own. Donald’s character is for once a genuine kind of ass that I really don’t like but it’s Agatha Christie, all her characters are assholes. This film really had potential but it shot itself point blank in the foot with the music.

A Time to Kill

Jumping forward to the 90′s, this movie is a classic based on a John Grisham novel and wow did I get invested! Donald isn’t in the film a whole lot but he does feel like an integral part of the plot and I really enjoyed him and Matthew Mcconaughey on screen together. Along with Samuel L. Jackson and Sandra Bullock. This movie is just fantastic and I normally don't like court dramas. Now what’s also interesting that not only is Donald in this one but so is Keifer. Sadly these two don’t share any scenes together and I don’t think they really got to work on set together except maybe once. Also Keifer’s character is a horrible racist. If anyone gets in your face about confederate flags being “heritage, not hate” show them this movie, Kiefer will take care of that one..

Space Cowboys

And last but not least, possibly my favorite one on this list. Everyone in this movie has the best film dynamic!! It’s funny, it’s endearing, and even kinda sad at times. The whole film feels genuine between all the lead characters, especially with them al being easily over the age of 65. As for Donald, He’s a smooth talking, dirty old man who hits on anything that moves but I’m sorry it just cracks me up. I don’t think this one should be taken too seriously but I just can’t help but fall in love with this movie. Cowboys, Space, Clint Eastwood and Tommy Lee Jones mean-mugging while Donald laughs and chases after women just makes my day.

Okay this one might have been a good bit longer than the last one so the reviews had to be a bit shorter this time. I would do some research for a lot fo the more serious film on these two lists just because I don’t have the time to issue trigger warnings for every film. I may put out a part three, at least I’m going to try to but I’m working 12 hour days lately so I don’t have as much time to watch stuff as I used to but I’m sure some of your guys do. If you’re having trouble finding a film don’t be afraid to let me know and I’ll do my best to hook you up with some *quality* content. I know I’m having a hell of a hard time finding his older credits and the movie Blood Relatives (at least a version in english) Let me know what you guys think, if you agree or disagree with my opinions. Have fun watching!

#Donald Sutherland #still not tagging every movie #I may end up with a dedicated side blog one day who knows #movies #film

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shy-marker-pliers · 5 years ago

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Quick fluffy drabble of the Host and Eric fanboying over their favorite book together (one they read from the annual Ego book club) while everyone stares on in amazement of how adorable they are

~Book Club~

Warnings: Swearing (mild), food mention, implied mental abuse.

Relationship(s): Heric but it’s like before they officially become a thing so idk

@pawsitively-purfect sorry for taking 420 years but this ended up way longer than expected lol

The book club, surprisingly, was not The Host’s idea. It all started on a stormy day when the power went out, leaving almost everyone with nothing to do. Since it was basically pitch black and the only source of light in the house that wasn’t electric was the candles in the library, they all headed there, figuring that as long as they were quiet, The Host wouldn’t mind them hanging out for a while.

He wasn’t surprised when they showed up. He’d known for weeks that the power was going to go out, thanks to a vision that he’d had. By the time they had reached the library, he had already made tea and arranged his armchairs in a circle to make conversation easier.

Most of the egos found books and sat down to read, and the others were off in different parts of the library holding small conversations. Well, apart from the Jims and Wilford, who were having races to see who could scale the bookshelves fastest.

“Hey Host, what’cha reading?“ King asked from his perch on top of the couch.

“The Host is reading Frankenstein. It has been one of his favorite books for some time now-”

“Oh, I love Frankenstein! I must’ve watched the gene wilder version a hundred times, at least!“

“That’s Young Frankenstein, Bim. It’s not even close to the original material. The Boris Karloff version is much better. It’s a classic.”

“Isn’t that the old boring one from like a bazillion years ago?”

“Wh- it isn’t boring, and it isn’t from ‘a bazillion years ago’, it was made in 1931. I saw it in theaters when it first came out and I personally thought it was-”

“Oh my god, we get it Dark, you’re old as hell.”

The Host closed his book and snapped his fingers, which was loud enough to make Eric jump about a foot and get everyone in the library to turn their heads, including the Jims and Wilford, who all toppled off the bookshelf they were climbing and landed in a pile on the floor as a result.

“While The Host does find this argument entertaining, he does wish to know if Bim and Dark have ever actually read the original Frankenstein novel.“

“Of course i’ve read it!“

“And does Dark remember anything from the book?“

“Well no, I read it more than fifty years ago, but-”

“Has anyone here read it, and if so, recently enough that they remember the plot?“

silence.

“Anyone at all?“

A longer, more drawn out silence.

“Heathens, all of you.”

“Okay, Mr. I’ve Memorized Every Book In Existence, if you want us to read it so bad why don’t you make a book club or somethin’?“ Ed scoffed.

Eric smiled and looked up at The Host. “H-Hey, that’s actually a really g-good idea! I m-mean, no one has to join of course and if you don’t want us in the library t-that’s totally okay, but...I think it’d be fun. We could have tea and I could make snacks o-or something! I’ve always wanted to try being in a book club but I was never allow- um...I-I mean, I never got the chance.”

Eric trailed off at the end of his sentence and his smile dropped as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, looking down at his shoes and running his fingers over the fabric.

“S-Sorry, I was excited and I started rambling...j-just...forget I said anything.”

And that was when The Host made up his mind. He was starting this goddamn book club.

Eric, unsurprisingly, was absolutely ecstatic when The Host agreed to...well, host the book club, even more so when he found out that most of the egos had decided to join in, even the Jims. The first book they read together was (obviously) Frankenstein, and since The Host didn’t have enough copies of the book for every ego to have one, he just ended up reading it to them while they all sat in a circle around him, which turned out to be a good thing, because some of the egos couldn’t concentrate on a book to save their lives and it was better for them to listen instead.

It didn’t take them long at all to finish, especially since they were all so invested. When the book was over, they all discussed their thoughts about it. The conversation quickly delved into chaos, but that was to be expected in the ego house, so no one was angry.

“I liked the part when the monster strangled Victor Frankenstein’s wife!”

“Uh...Wilford, don’t you think that’s a little fucked up?”

“Pff, no! It was funny!”

“No, the best part was obviously when the monster woke up because Victor harnessed the power of lightning and it was like ’ZAP!’ and the monster was all ‘Blehhh i’m aliveee!’”

“I have to agree with Jim. the zappy zap was very interesting.”

“Thank you, Jim!”

“You’re welcome, Jim!”

While Wilford was trying to convince Bim and the Jims that murder was a completely normal thing to do and Dark was trying desperately to keep everyone else from joining the conversation, The Host stood up from his spot and moved to sit next to Eric on the couch, where he was watching everyone. He glanced over when he heard him sat down, fidgeting as he listened to the others argue.

“I-I’m sorry...if i’d have known that they’d all b-be fighting I wouldn’t have suggested this...”

“Eric has no reason to apologize. He had no way of knowing that this would happen. And besides, The Host rather enjoys this. His library has never been filled with so much life before.” He was silent for a moment as he surveyed the chaos.

“Anyway, the purpose of a book club is to discuss literature, which is what the other egos are doing, even if they are rather...confrontational about it.”

Eric let out a small giggle,and The Host smiled. “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right. I can’t exactly join the conversation l-like this, though. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but i’m not very much of a fighter.”

“Neither is The Host. Perhaps he and Eric could discuss the book together?”

“Y-Yeah! I can see why you like it so much, I thought it was r-really interesting. Makes you think, y’know? Especially, like, how everyone sees Victor as the good guy even though he made the monster and then abandoned it as soon as it came to life just because it s-scared him and basically caused it to have to live i-in the forest and stuff.”

The Host nodded in agreement. “Exactly. The monster was only a monster because that was how other people saw it. Despite the fact that it had the mind of a human and tried to show people that it was good and not nearly as frightening as it seemed, people refused to see past what it looked like on the outside.”

Oh.

So that was why The Host liked that book so much.

Eric frowned slightly. “It deserved a much better ending than it got...I wish that Victor had made another monster like it asked him to. A-At least that way it wouldn’t be sad or alone anymore...”

Eric and The Host continued to discuss the book and the underlying commentary, And Host couldn’t have been happier that he had someone to talk about his favorite book with. They were so focused on each other that they hadn’t even noticed that the other egos had all stopped fighting and were looking at them.

“Oh my god, that is literally the most adorable thing i’ve ever seen.”

“I know, right? They’re both so excited!”

“Come to think of it, I don’t think i’ve ever seen either of them this happy...”

“Hush, everyone. Let’s go upstairs now. I get the feeling that they’ll be talking for a while.”

#markiplier #eric derekson #the host #hostiplier #darkiplier #bim trimmer #jimiplier #king of the squirrels #heric #markiplier egos #my writing #fluff

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mxliv-oftheendless · 5 years ago

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Let’s Fall in Love

Now I know what you’re all thinking: “But Livvie, you’re always so vocal about your opinion of Valentine’s Day and its inherent capitalism and societal pressure to be in a relationship and general stupidity! Why have you written a story for it?” Well, turns out when you have a soul, you can’t not get caught up in the romantic spirit somehow *shrugs*. This is by far the lamest, sappiest thing I have ever written in my entire life. It took me a while to finish writing because I did my French homework beforehand and my brain got fried (side note: learning a foreign language is exhausting). But I got it done, so yay me!

I’ve also written this because IT’S @cosmicrealmofkissteria ‘s BIRTHDAY! And since she wrote an epic story as a present for me, it’s only fair I do the same. Hope you enjoy, Shandi, and happy birthday!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The camera opens on Gene, who smiles and waves. “Hey there. If you’re watching this, this is the first video I’m making for my new flash drive, because I used up all the storage on my last one.”

From beyond the camera comes Paul’s voice calling, “Again!”

“Shut up, Paul. Anyway, you know the drill…”

“Who are you even talking to?” Paul’s voice comes again. Gene rolls his eyes and turns the camera around to Paul, who is sitting in a chair with his legs over the armrest and his laptop in his lap. “You keep saying you’re recording these for posterity, but… are you just talking to yourself and lying about it?”

“Shut up, Paul.”

“I’m just saying, man. I mean, I know why you do this. But from an outsider’s perspective, it’s kind of weird.”

“And from an outsider’s perspective, your obsession with stars is weird.”

Paul is silent for a moment, then nods. “Fair.”

He turns back to his laptop and Gene turns the camera back around. “Anyway, as I was saying. You know the drill. I’m Gene, I’m a co-owner of the awesome wine bar known as Cellar 82. I’m 33, and I am still single. But, oddly,” Gene shrugs, “I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about how sucky that is. I guess FRIENDS was wrong about that.”

“FRIENDS was wrong about a lot of stuff,” Paul’s voice comes again. “They tried to make us think Ross wasn’t a total loser.”

Gene nods. “That is true. Anyway, yeah. Still single. I’ve been on some blind dates with people my friends keep telling me are “just perfect for me!” but… nothing’s worked out. And that’s fine.

“Let’s see, what else… Paul finally got me to watch a bootleg of Phantom of the Opera.”

“It’s amazing, right?”

Gene shrugs, but is smirking slightly “Eh. The book was better.”

“… I know you’re trolling me, but I’m prepared to fight you on that.”

Gene laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Seriously though, it was pretty good. At least it explains why Paul keeps dramatically reenacting it in the shower.” He looks to the side and laughs. “Paul just gave me the bird.

“Anyway… that’s all I can think of to say right now. So that does it for this video. Bye for now!” He waves. The camera screen goes black.

The camera opens on Gene, who is smiling. “So get this: I met someone last night. I probably sound like a teenage girl, but it’s pretty exciting. His name’s Vinnie, he’s got long hair down to about here,” he gestures to just below his shoulders, “and green eyes. But… and don’t tell Paul I said this… they’re really nice-looking green eyes. And it gets even better: he’s an Egyptologist. I never thought I’d meet one in real life. He’s in the graduate program at the university. He was at the wine bar with his friends because he apparently just got back from a research trip to Egypt and they dragged him out to celebrate. You’d never tell he was in Egypt, though; he’s kind of pale. But a pretty kind of pale.

“We got to talking because he heard the rock music playing and asked if it was Deep Purple. I didn’t even think he would know who they were, but he did. He knows a lot of rock bands. We could have talked about it more, but he went off to be with his friends.”

Gene rubs the back of his neck. “Is it weird that I kind of want to see him again? I’ll cop to it; he’s not the type I would normally go for. But I liked talking to him. He has a nice laugh, too. I told him he and his friends could come back anytime, and he said he thought it was a nice place so they might. I hope he comes back…”

The camera opens on Gene again, who is lying on his stomach looking sadly at the camera. “It’s been two weeks now, and Vinnie hasn’t come back. And I haven’t seen him around, either. In other news, another blind date. This one was set up by Eric with one of his fellow librarians. She was nice enough… but the date was really awkward. I don’t think it’s gonna go anywhere… as usual.”

Gene sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “I dunno what’s wrong with me, but I can’t stop thinking about him. Vinnie, I mean. Do you think he liked me? People say I’m kind of unapproachable… but he didn’t seem to mind, or have any problem talking to me. I just want to see him again, and maybe then I can finally work up the balls to ask him out.

“But then there’s… well, this, to think about. What if, if I ever see him again, it goes somewhere, and I show him I do this, and he gets weirded out by it? It’s not like what Paul said before is a lie—people who don’t know what this is to me think this is weird. But maybe… maybe I can cross that bridge when I get there—if I even get there at all. I haven’t even seen him again yet.

“Well… here’s hoping I see him again. Anyway, as for the rest of my life…” He shrugs. “Same old shit. Bar’s still getting good reviews… but it’s had good reviews since we opened, so that’s not new. No new episodes from Buzzfeed Unsolved yet. Rick and Morty… still a wild show. It’s gotten even wilder if possible. But I can make a separate video about that. And, uh… that’s pretty much it. So I guess I’ll sign off for the night. This is Gene Simmons, signing off.”

The camera opens on Gene, who looks giddy. “You’ll never guess what happened: scientists proved ghosts are real.

“No, I’m just kidding. I wish, but anyway… Vinnie came back! Turns out he and his friends do a tri-weekly Guys Night Out, and they’re really serious about it. They would even FaceTime Vinnie while he was in Egypt. They liked the wine bar so much they decided to come back for their next one.

“So I got to talk to Vinnie again—he remembered my name, can you believe that?—and like I said I would, I worked up the guts to ask him out. And he said yes! I’m gonna pick him up from his loft—he and his friends live together—and take him out to this coffee place down the block from the wine bar.” Gene holds up crossed fingers. “Here’s hoping it goes well.”

We see Gene, who is lying on his stomach and looking happily at the camera. “So I just got back from my date with Vinnie. I suppose you’re wondering how it went, huh? Well…” He slowly bows his head…

… then looks back up at the camera with a big smile. “It went really well! We talked about our favorite bands, and Vinnie’s job… you should’ve seen his face when he was talking about Egypt. He was so into it. Then he asked me how the wine bar got started, so I told him about how Paul and I decided to open it together. He thought it was really cool how we know so much about different wines.

“Actually, we were there for a pretty long time. I was hoping it would last an hour, at most. But as we’re getting up to leave, I look at my watch, and it’s been three hours! I’ve never had a date last that long, or one that seemed to go by that fast. We made plans to meet for dinner next week.” Gene checks his watch. “I should probably sign off for now. I told Tommy I’d take over his morning shift tomorrow.” He flashes the camera another smile. “Today’s been a good day. Can’t wait to see Vinnie again.”

Music is playing in the background. The camera has opened on Paul, who gives a smile and a peace sign. “Hey there, posterity. It’s me, ya boi. Check this out.”

He turns the camera around to reveal Gene moving around the kitchen area. Paul zooms the camera in on him. He looks to be in a very good mood as he pours cereal into a bowl, nodding his head along to the music. The camera turns back to Paul, who gives the camera a lost look and shrug. “He’s been like this all morning. He’s only had one cup of coffee so far. Oh, and you probably can’t hear it on the recording, but he’s humming. Actually humming along to the music. I’ve narrowed down the possibilities of what could’ve happened to him to two: either Trump’s been assassinated, or his date last night with Vinnie went really well. And since Trump’s unfortunately still alive and well, then that means it was his date with Vinnie. I just—” Paul stops and looks up. His eyes widen as a voice can be made out. “Oh my God…”

He turns the camera around and zooms in on Gene again. We can now hear Gene singing along to the music. “—fall in love/Our hearts are made of it/Let’s take a chance/Why be afraid of it…”

The camera turns back around to a shocked Paul. “He’s singing along now!” he whispers. “Oh my God… I’m so glad I decided to make a recording of this. This is a historic moment, people!”

“Paul, what are you doing?” Gene’s voice suddenly says, making Paul look up at him. “Is that Shannon? Paul, what are you doing with Shannon?”

“I’m documenting history, Gene. Also, I still say you could give your camera a better name than ‘Shannon’. Peter’s cats have better names than that.”

“Fuck you, Shannon’s a great name.”

“You could’ve named her Diane. Then at least more people would get the Twin Peaks reference.” Paul watches Gene for a moment, then sighs and turns back to the camera. “And he just flipped me off. Well, looks like the moment’s gone. But at least you got to see it for yourselves.” He glances up at Gene. “I should probably give Shannon back to him now before he tries to snatch it. So I guess bye for now, posterity!” He blows a kiss at the camera and turns it off.

Gene is sitting on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. He has a nervous look on his face. “Hey there. So, um… I did something kind of impulsive today, and… everything was fine, but…” he sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I don’t know. I guess I should give some background first.

“So as you probably know, I’ve been dating Vinnie for nearly three months now. Given how he’s a part-time research assistant and working his way through grad school, that probably isn’t that impressive. He keeps apologizing for having to decline going out together, but it’s fine, I get it. Tommy and Ace were like that when Ace was working on his astronomy PhD. So I get it. But the thing is… Vinnie actually works to make time for going out with me. Like, he’ll message me things like…” The camera shakes as Gene fumbles for his phone and opens it. “Like this: I can ask Lita if I can leave early on Thursday. It’ll be short notice, but she probably won’t mind. And I just…” Gene runs a hand through his hair. “No one I’ve ever had a long-term relationship with has ever done that for me before. They would always say things like, Oh, sorry, I can’t, I have Such-n-Such at seven. I remember my high school girlfriend said one time that she couldn’t go out because she had StuGo till five. And I said, ‘well, how about afterwards?’ And she got all snippy and said ‘no, cuz I have to do my homework when I get home.’ Actually she was also the one that dumped me for that blond fuck Vince… Anyway, point is, no girlfriend or boyfriend I’ve ever had has ever done that. It was either they could or they couldn’t. Except Vinnie…

“But I digress. Anyway, Vinnie and I’ve been dating for almost three months, and whenever I do see him…” Gene sighs and smiles a little. “It’s great. We haven’t just gone out to restaurants; we’ve gone to the movies, I went over to his and his friends’ loft once and he comes over here…” Gene smirks a bit. “I’m happy to report I still got it in the boudoir. His friends seem to like me, and Paul likes Vinnie. It’s been… pretty amazing. I really like him. He’s really smart, even if he knows next to nothing about horror movies, he’s got good music tastes, he’s funny, his laugh is… like music to my ears, and he’s incredibly attractive. Actually, he’s sort of insecure about how he looks—can you believe that? I don’t give a damn that he looks kind of feminine, he’s beautiful. And whenever I’m with him, I just think, how can someone this amazing exist? And want to spend his time with me? I just… fuck, am I digressing again? Sorry.

“Anyways, to get back to what I started this with… I told him about this. About Shannon and my video diaries. I didn’t tell him why, because… well, I kinda chickened out of that. He was curious about it—apparently, he’s never met someone who makes video diaries. So I told him about when I first got started making them, and went on from there. And the whole time he never looked put off or weirded out by it—he just looked really interested. And I guess that’s what made me say what I asked next: I asked if he wanted to be in one.”

Gene presses his mouth into a line. “Yeah… I didn’t realize what I said until after I said it. He just stared at me for a second, I think I took him by surprise. I was sure he was going to say no. But then… then he said sure, if I felt okay about him being in it. He’s coming over tomorrow.

“I definitely feel like I should be more excited than I actually am. This… well, you know how much this stuff means to me. I’ve never shared this with any of the other people I’ve dated. This is my own personal thing. But Vinnie… it just sort of slipped out. Does that mean something?”

Gene sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. “God, what am I doing… I’m psyching myself out again. It’s probably not going to be as bad as I’m worrying it’ll be. He didn’t seem to judge me when I was telling him about it, so he probably won’t judge me tomorrow. He’s not like that; he’s better than that.” Gene slowly smiles. “Yeah… Yeah, I think it’ll be fine. Paul’s gonna be home tomorrow too, and he gets it. Yeah, it’ll all be fine.

“Well, I guess I’ll sign off for now and go to bed. Stay tuned tomorrow for when you finally meet this Vinnie I’ve told you so much about.”

The camera opens on a black shirt, then rustles and is lifted up. Vinnie is sitting on the couch, looking at the camera. “Is this fine?” he asks.

“It’s perfect,” Gene replies from behind the camera.

“Okay… So, what should I do?”

“How about… your name, your age, your job, your favorite band, and one fun fact about yourself.”

Vinnie laughs. “Okay.” He smiles and waves at the camera. “Hi! I’m Vinnie, I’m 30, I’m an Egyptologist and work as a research assistant, my favorite band is…” he laughs nervously, “I don’t know, there are so many good ones…”

“You don’t have to say one if you can’t think of one,”

“Okay. I have a lot of favorite bands. And a fun fact about me is…”

“You’re short,”

Vinnie scoffs at Gene. “Well, we can’t all be over six feet tall. Here’s a fun fact about me: I like Star Trek more than Star Wars.”

“Take that back,”

Vinnie smirks at him. “Why don’t you make me?”

“You’re kidding, I know you’re kidding,”

Vinnie laughs. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding. A true fun fact about me is… I’ve seen every season of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.” The scene is quiet. He looks at Gene behind the camera. “I’m serious.”

“… You’re actually serious?” The camera zooms in on Vinnie’s face. “You need to explain. Now. Because I’m sorry, but if you’re a fan of the Kardashians I may have to question our relationships.”

Vinnie laughs. “Don’t worry, Genie, I’m not a fan of the Kardashians. Never in a million years.”

“Thank God. But you still have to explain.”

“Okay, fine. What happened was, Mark and I had a bet where the loser had to binge watch all the seasons of Keeping Up With the Kardashians, and I lost. I spent the next two and a half weeks watching every episode whenever I had free time, and they’re two and a half weeks of my life I’ll never get back.”

“How was it?”

“If you think watching their drama every week is bad enough, try watching all of their drama at once.”

Gene winces. “That sounds horrible,”

Vinnie nods. “Like I said, two and a half weeks of my life I’ll never get back.”

“Ugh, did I just hear Keeping Up With the Kardashians?” Paul’s disgusted-sounding voice comes from in the background. “I’m sorry, but if you’re gonna be talking about that crap, you’re gonna have to leave.”

“Shut up, Paul,” Gene replies. “He’s not a fan.”

“I had a bet with Mark and lost, and so had to binge watch the whole show,” Vinnie explains.

“And?”

“Absolutely hated it,”

Paul’s voice sounds satisfied. “Good. Gene, you better not lose this one; he’s a keeper.”

Vinnie laughs, while Gene’s voice is embarrassed. “Don’t you have a Phantom of the Opera number to reenact?”

“It’s fine,” Vinnie laughs. “I don’t mind.”

“You say that now, but after you spend some more time around him, that may change,”

Vinnie shrugs. “I doubt it; I do live with Mark and Dana, after all.” He gives Gene a cheeky smile. “Am I a keeper, Genie?”

“Welllll…” the camera zooms in on Vinnie’s face, while he tries not to laugh. Then it zooms back out again. “Yeah. You’re a keeper, alright.”

Vinnie smiles. “Thank you. So are you.” The camera feed is silent for a beat. “So… should I say goodbye, or…”

“Oh! Oh yeah, uh, yeah, you should.”

“Okay.” Vinnie grins at the camera and waves. “Well, it was nice to meet Shannon. She’s a very nice lady, very efficient. Once again, I’m Vinnie. Bye!”

The camera opens on Gene. He is lying on his stomach on his bed, and gazes sadly at the camera. “Hi. It’s Gene. And… my life’s been a mess the past few days. Vinnie and I… well, we’re not talking. We haven’t even texted, except for…” Gene’s eyes blink rapidly, “for just now. Um, I should probably start at the beginning, huh?

“So, Vinnie’s video diary was about a month ago. And since then we got… more serious. He was—been—fuck, I don’t fucking know grammar anymore, my life’s such a mess. He’s been coming over a lot more. We made dinner together once. We watched movies, and… all that. It was great. And after he seemed to be totally fine with me making video diaries, I started making more videos with him in it. And at first it was fine—he just laughed and went along with it. But after a while…” Gene sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I didn’t even realize this until I thought back… After a while, he started getting… less fine with it. I think—no, he was definitely more annoyed than he let on. But I never noticed; I was just so happy that he didn’t think I was weird for doing it. I-I should’ve paid more attention…

“Um, anyway, that brings me to… to a few days ago. Vinnie came over to watch… what was it? It was… I don’t even remember. Not that it matters. He came over to watch a movie, and I… he looked so handsome and I couldn’t help myself and… and pulled out Shannon while he was making popcorn. When he saw Shannon, he sighed heavily, like a really frustrated sigh, and asked if I could turn it off. And that’s what got my attention: he’s always been careful to call Shannon “her”, and this time he called her “it.” So I was kind of caught off guard, so I turned her off and asked what was wrong. And… it took him a few seconds to answer, but… he really didn’t have to in the end. He was trying to give me an excuse other than the truth.

“He… He asked me why I’m always pulling Shannon out and making videos, even when I don’t have to. I told him it was for posterity, like I usually do. But that… that, um, wasn’t enough for him. He said I should try to spend time away from making video diaries for a while, and unplug. That’s the word he used: unplug. And…” he sighs heavily. “Does it even matter what I said to that? It doesn’t seem like it matters much now; the ending’s still the same. I got kind of put off by what he was saying, he got more annoyed at me, which got me more frustrated at him, and… well, one thing led to another, and… and eventually we were just shouting at each other. We were yelling back and forth, and—and throwing insults at each other… until finally he just stormed out.

“And… And that’s it. I haven’t talked to him since. Haven’t gone to try and see him when he’s working, haven’t called him… I only worked up the balls to text him an apology a few hours ago.” He laughs humorlessly. “Can you believe that? I apologized over text instead of in person… how pathetic is that? No wonder he took two hours to respond… I was sure he wouldn’t even respond at all, even though at the same time I was checking my phone every five minutes. Then when he did respond, all he said was…” Gene swallows roughly. “It just said, I don’t want to talk right now. That’s it. Nothing else.”

Gene sighs and runs his hand across his face and through his hair. “I can’t believe it. Four months of everything going amazing and I fucked it all up because I’m too emotionally attached to my camera. Fuck, I wonder what Dr. Aucoin would say if he could see me right now… this probably wasn’t what he was thinking of when he suggested I start making these. I took it too far… This is my fault. I can’t believe Vinnie didn’t get annoyed sooner. He’s too patient…” Gene gives a wet laugh. “Goddammit, Vinnie’s amazing. He’s a treasure. I don’t care about all the stuff about him I get bothered with. I don’t care that he’s such a perfectionist. He’s too good for me… He has been from the moment I met him. And now he might want to break up with me over this… and he would be totally justified in wanting that.

“Well, you heard it right here. Once again I manage to fuck up everything, only this time I managed to fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to me in years… maybe my entire life. I, um, don’t know when the next time I make one of these will be. It might actually be never this time. So, if this really is my last video diary…” he shrugs sadly. “I’m sorry. I wish I could end things on a lighter note, but… guess I can’t. So…” he waves despondently at the camera. “Possibly for the last time ever… this is Gene Simmons, signing off.”

The screen goes black.

The camera opens on Vinnie, who is staring sadly at it. He looks like he’s been crying. “Hi, it’s… it’s Vinnie. Um… you probably know what’s been happening… and it’s my fault. I could never understand why Gene’s always making these video diaries, always documenting everything… but now I know. Paul gave me all the flash drives, all the videos he’s ever made, and I watched them all. I…” He sniffs and wipes his eyes. “I feel so horrible. This is all my fault. I… I had no idea. I’m so sorry… I-I wish I could tell him how sorry I am. But I’m… I’m scared. What if he doesn’t forgive me? If I were him, I wouldn’t forgive me. But I want him to forgive me. At the very least I want him to know how sorry I am, and how ashamed of myself I am. Gene is… he’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. He’s sweet, he’s funny, and he makes me…” Vinnie is getting closer to tears now “he makes me so happy. I… I think I—”

“Vinnie?” Gene’s voice is suddenly heard from off-camera. Vinnie jumps and whirls his head around to the side. “What are you doing?”

“I-I… I…”

Vinnie quickly fumbles with the camera, and the screen goes black.

The camera screen shakes for a couple seconds, until it is raised and focused on Gene. He’s lying in bed on his side, shirtless, and smiles. He speaks quietly. “Hey there. So, turns out that wasn’t my last video after all. Which… thank God. I missed getting my thoughts out to a cold, unfeeling camera lens.” He smiles wider and chuckles. “Not that Shannon’s cold and unfeeling. She’s a good listener. Which reminds me…”

Gene sits up and fumbles with the camera. He turns it around and aims it at his bed. Lying in bed asleep, also shirtless, is Vinnie. His body is turned towards Gene’s side of the bed. Gene keeps the camera on him for a couple seconds, then turns it back around to himself, smiling. “Yep. We talked, we talked a lot actually, but we talked everything out, told each other we were sorry and then that we forgave each other, and then…” He trails off and grins. “Well, I’m sure you can connect the dots yourself.

“It’s actually kind of funny how it started. Apparently, Paul got tired of seeing me moping for the past week and a half, and decided to, without telling me, tell Vinnie why exactly I make my video diaries. So he got all my flash drives together—and I mean every single one—he even made a copy of the videos on my current flash drive—went over to Vinnie’s loft, and gave them to him, telling him to watch them all. And… And he did. He was over here at our place because he was returning the flash drives, and while he was in my room he saw Shannon. And that’s when I walked in on him talking to Shannon and looking like he was going to cry. He, uh, he actually did cry. And then… we talked. He said he was sorry for everything he said, and for not realizing what these mean to me, and I said I’m sorry for how much I was aiming Shannon at his face.” Gene shrugs sheepishly, smiling. “I mean, I still feel bad, but can you blame me? He’s got a pretty face.”

A hand suddenly passes up his chest to wrap around his shoulders and the top of Vinnie’s head appears. His smile widens and he looks down. “Good morning to you.” He leans down to kiss the top of Vinnie’s head.

“Morning…” Vinnie sits up to lean his head on Gene’s shoulder and rubs his eyes. “Mmm… I woke up and you were talking to yourself…” He sees the camera, and smiles. “Oh.” He rests his head on Gene’s shoulder. “Good morning, Shannon. And… what’s the word you used?”

“Posterity?”

“That’s it. Good morning, posterity.” He smirks a bit. “It’s me, ya boi.”

Gene groans and rolls his eyes. “You got that from Paul, didn’t you?”

“It’s what he uses whenever he makes an appearance… I know he does it to annoy you, but I thought it was kind of funny.”

Gene smiles a bit. “It’s less annoying coming from you… You have a way with words.”

Vinnie looks up at him and smiles. “Well, thank you.” He leans up to kiss Gene’s cheek. Gene turns his head and kisses him full on the lips.

When they pull away Gene speaks. “I just thought of something,”

Vinnie puts his head back on Gene’s shoulder. “Mmm hmm?”

“You apologized to me… but you never apologized to Shannon.”

“I…” Vinnie looks up at him blankly. “What?”

Gene nods his head at the camera. “Shannon. You never apologized to Shannon. You called her an it, Vinnie. She’s had a pretty hard time coming back from that, especially after how you were so nice to her before.”

Vinnie glances at the camera. He’s smiling slightly, but there’s also some guilt on his face. “I did do that…”

“Yeah. Plus you didn’t even thank her for letting you record yourself yesterday.” Gene says all of this in a very serious voice. “So? Does she not deserve an apology?”

“Yes, she does.” Vinnie turns to look apologetically at the camera. “I’m sorry I called you an it, Shannon. I was annoyed at how much I saw you; that was rude and wrong of me. And thank you for letting me record myself yesterday.” He looks up at Gene. “Does she accept my apology?”

Gene leans in off to the side to look at the camera, then leans back smiling. “She forgives you,”

Vinnie smiles happily. “Thank you, Shannon. You’re a special lady. Also,” his smile turns suggestive as he glances up at Gene, “I had no idea your user was that good. Last night was fucking amazing.”

Gene’s smile widens. “I should be surprised at hearing you swear… but I heard enough of that last night.”

Laughing, Vinnie waggles his eyebrows at the camera. “What can I say? I forgot my manners.”

“Also, I’m not sure if I ever mentioned this before, but Vinnie has an ankh tattoo.”

“Mmm hmm,” Vinnie nods proudly. “I got it in Alexandria. It’s about as big as my hand, and it’s black, but I regret nothing.”

“Wanna show them where it is?”

Vinnie laughs. “No thanks.” He winks at the camera. “Sorry, but only Gene will ever know that.” He sits up a bit and smiles suggestively at Gene. “Want to see it again?”

Gene grins back. “I’d love to. Just gimme a sec.” He fumbles with the camera and turns it off.

When the camera is turned on, with Paul holding it, we see the interior of Cellar 82. It is crowded with people, and voices and music fill the background. “Hey, posterity,” Paul says, raising his voice so he can be heard. “It’s me, ya boi. I’m borrowing Shannon, but Gene probably won’t mind.” He turns the camera away from him and moves it to pan around the room. “So as you can see, we’ve got a full house here in Cellar 82 tonight. Why, you ask? Well…”

He moves the camera and zooms it in on Tommy and Ace, who are dancing together in the middle of a makeshift dance floor. He zooms out and turns the camera back to himself. “Ace finally proposed to Tommy. They took things seriously slow while he was working on his PhD, moved in together after he got it, and to celebrate being ten years sober, Ace finally decided to pop the question. About fuckin’ time, if you ask me.

“But while Ace and Tommy are great together, they’re not why I’m borrowing Shannon.” Paul grins wickedly at the camera. “Gimme a few seconds, and I’ll show you the real reason why.”

He turns the camera away from him and starts to move through the crowd of people. Eventually he comes to a corner that is a bit more private, and zooms in on the people sitting at the table. It is Gene and Vinnie; Vinnie is in Gene’s lap and they’re in the middle of making out. The camera turns back around to a smirking Paul. “Yep, that’s why. Gene sometimes forgets personal space is a thing when he’s had enough to drink, and you didn’t hear it from me but apparently Vinnie gets a little loose when he’s had enough wine. And when you put ‘em together… you get this.” He turns the camera back to the couple, who are still making out. “Hey, lovebirds!”

At his shout, Gene’s eyes turn in his direction, then widen. He turns his head fully around. “Paul, what the hell are you doing?” he shouts. Meanwhile Vinnie looks up, sees the camera, and hides his face in Gene’s shoulder.

“Smile, you’ve been recorded for posterity!” Paul replies gaily.

Gene gently pushes Vinnie, who nods and gets off his lap. As soon as he is off, Gene bolts to his feet and starts to advance on Paul. “I’m gonna kill you, Paul!”

“But Gene, I’ve got Shannon! You wouldn’t hurt our lovely gal Shannon, would you?”

“Shannon? Never. You? You better fucking run.”

The camera shakes violently as Paul turns and runs, laughing.

Gene is sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a red button-up shirt and a black blazer. “Hi. I’m about to head out to go pick up Vinnie and take him out to dinner. We’ve officially been together for one year… which I know because I have the day marked in my calendar. So I decided to take him out to a nice place. He doesn’t even know what’s going to happen; all I told him was to dress nice.”

Gene runs his hand over his hair. “I’m also planning on doing something else today. I’ve thought about it for a long time now, I think ever since we made up after that argument we had… and I’m pretty sure of it now. I’m in love with Vinnie. And after we come back here from dinner, I’m going to tell him.

“Y’know what’s funny? When I first thought that I might be in love… I would’ve been less scared if Jason Vorhees burst through my window. Because I’ve never been in love before. I love Paul, but not like that—never in a thousand years like that. And for all my other past relationships, I thought in the moment it was love, but then when it was over I realized it was just a really strong attraction. But this… I’ve thought about it for months, and I know it’s actually love.

“I’m gonna tell him tonight. Despite worrying that he doesn’t love me back, I’m still gonna do it. I just wanted to get my thoughts out before I left. Which,” Gene glances up at the clock, “I should probably leave now.” He smiles hopefully and holds up crossed fingers. “Wish me luck!”

The camera is aimed at the bed, then shakes as it is lifted up and turned around to reveal Vinnie. He smiles. “Hi,” he says quietly. “I woke up first and decided to borrow Shannon for a second. I’ll be quick; I just wanted to say something. But first…”

He turns the camera around and aims it at Gene, who is lying in bed on his side, still asleep. “I could get used to waking up to this,” Vinnie’s voice is soft and affectionate. He turns the camera back around. “I’m sure Genie’s already said something about it, but last night marked us being boyfriends for a year. Gene took me out to a nice dinner, then we came back here. And then…” Vinnie turns from the camera to look down at Gene, then smiles and turns back. “Gene said he loved me.” He laughs. “I still can’t believe it. He’s really in love with me.

“I didn’t say it then, because… well, I wasn’t sure enough of myself to feel confident enough to say it. But I am now. I love him too. And I’m going to tell him right now.”

And with that, he turns off the camera.

When the camera turns on, Gene’s shirt is the only thing in frame. He adjusts something, then moves backward to sit next to Vinnie. They are surrounded by stacks of boxes. Gene smiles and waves, while Vinnie follows suit. “If you’re watching this, this is the first video being recorded in our new apartment.”

Vinnie grins happily. “We moved in together!”

“We’ve been together for two years now, almost three, and we decided we were tired of not seeing more of each other.” Gene grins at the camera. “So, now we’ll be seeing each other all the time.” He turns to Vinnie. “Seriously though, I should probably take the time to apologize in advance.”

“For what?”

“Y’know… anything I do that bothers you or makes you uncomfortable. Paul told me one time that I snore.”

“Well, I’ve slept right next to you hundreds of times, and you’ve never snored.”

“You’re kind of a deep sleeper, though,”

“I guess that’s fair,”

“But anyway… sorry in advance.”

Vinnie smiles and shakes his head at him. “Okay. I forgive you in advance. I guess I should say sorry in advance for anything I do that bothers you.”

Gene smiles back. “I forgive you in advance.” He kisses Vinnie. The kiss slowly becomes deeper, until Vinnie falls back onto the floor with Gene on top of him.

“Mmph… Gene, the camera.”

“Right.” Gene gets up and moves to turn it off.

The camera turns on, and we see the interior of Cellar 82. The camera is pointed at Gene and Vinnie, who are sitting at a table.

“I’m sorry, I know I probably shouldn’t talk,” Paul’s quiet voice comes from behind the camera, “but I’m too excited! Today marks Gene and Vinnie being together for four years, and tonight’s the night Gene decided to do something very special.”

After a few moments, Paul gasps and zooms in on Gene’s hand as it reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a small black box. Gene seems to grip it tightly for a second. The camera zooms out to have both men in frame as Gene speaks. The words are inaudible on the recording. Then Gene opens the box, places it on the table, and pushes it towards Vinnie.

Vinnie’s mouth drops open and he covers his mouth. Then he slowly nods his head. He lowers his hands to reveal a blooming smile, and his reply of “Yes!” can be faintly heard. Gene stands and goes around to Vinnie’s chair, picks up the box to take out the ring, and slides it onto Vinnie’s finger. Vinnie jumps up and they kiss passionately.

The camera opens on a wall of a bedroom, then is turned around to be on Gene. He grins at the camera and speaks in a quiet voice. “If you’re watching this, you’ve found the one video of my honeymoon I’m doing. The next two weeks are going to be completely radio silence. And to be honest? I’ve never been more excited.”

The camera is turned around to the bed, and zooms in on a sleeping Vinnie. “There he is—the one I’m gonna spend my life with, and the one who somehow wants to spend his life with me.” The camera zooms out and turns back to Gene. “Is it normal when you’re married to still wonder how the hell your partner puts up with you?” He shrugs. “Guess I’ll find out.” The camera turns back to Vinnie and zooms in on him. “Look at him; beautiful. He was the first one to fall asleep after last night.” His voice turns proud. “Not to brag, but I kind of outdid myself last night. I’m kind of surprised no one heard him.”

As he speaks, Vinnie shifts in bed and slowly opens his eyes. He lifts a hand and rubs them, then turns to blink blearily at the camera. “Mm, Gene… what are you doing?”

“Showing the world my beautiful husband,”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to bring Shannon along,”

“Don’t worry, this is the only video I’m taking,”

“Mmm… okay.” Vinnie rubs his eyes and props himself up.

The camera zooms in closer. “Vinniiiiiie…”

Vinnie looks at the camera, smiling amusedly. “Yes, Gene?”

“Got anything you wanna say to Shannon?”

“Shannon, you’re a lovely woman, but Gene’s legally mine now. If you could stop trying to steal him from me, that would be great.”

“Very funny. I meant something like saying hi. For posterity.”

“Okay, okay,” Vinnie smiles at the camera and waves. “Hello, it’s me, Vinnie. As of two days ago, I got married to the beautiful man behind the camera…” Vinnie laughs. “Who is now blushing.”

“Shut up,”

Vinnie laughs. “Well, assuming Gene keeps his promise, this is the only video being taken during our honeymoon, so… enjoy it.”

“Well said,”

“Thank you,”

“How’s the bed?”

Vinnie shifts. “Mm… comfy. Really comfy.”

“It is pretty comfy,”

Vinnie grins at Gene beyond the camera. “It’d be perfect if a certain someone would put Shannon away and come back to bed.” He bats his eyelashes. “Please?”

Gene sounds like he’s grinning. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

The screen goes black.

#ladies gentlemen and nonbinaries: behold the sappiest fucking thing I have ever written ever #and also one of the longest things I've written #not THE longest but still pretty long #bc as usual for me when I have a good idea I get carried away with it lol #also why paul and gene are co-owners of a wine bar I have no idea #that's just the idea I had #but yeah anyway #hope you enjoyed this lame thing #happy birthday Shandi!#kiss fanfiction #demonankh #kiss au writing #my writing #thanks for reading!#k now i'm gonna go eat something lol

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forthegothicheroine · 5 years ago

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Dear Purimgifts Author

I, uh, I nominated a lot of stuff this year. That’s good, right? It means you get more options! I’d be equally happy with one three-part story or three one-part stories, I’m just dying to see what you come up with!

The Path (Game)

I watched a Let’s Play of this game years ago, and still can’t get it out of my head. Tell me what’s going on overall, or just focus in on one of the girls and tell me her story. I’d rather not get too sexual with this one, but if you want to do a little creepy romance with one of the older girls and her wolf (the piano wolf or the motorcycle wolf in particular) go for it. I’ll take a happy ending or a sad ending here, either one would fit. And if you want to make any of the girls Jewish, feel free to go there...

Spinning Silver

This book was a revelation to me. An actual practicing Jewish heroine! Clearly explained economics! Creepy fairies! Heroine/villain romance! Anything focusing on Miryem is good here, be it romantic and/or sexual with her fairy king, or simply a day in the life of being a clever moneylender. And does she continue her job with other mythical creatures?

Matthew Bourne’s Sleeping Beauty: A Gothic Romance

Trite as it may be, I’m a sucker for heroine/villain/hero love triangles, and this ballet gave me exactly what I wanted. So, tell me about Aurora! Tell me about her love for Leo and/or Caradoc, her fear and desperation in captivity, or her adjustment to life as a vampire! This is one where I’d be happy to see things get sexy (non or dubcon is okay where Caradoc is concerned) but please don’t feel obligated to go there.

The Masque of the Red Death (1964)

I was just reflecting on how much I love this movie, and thinking about how cool Francesca’s role is- she’s the ingenue, sure, but she also gets to argue with the villain and hold to her own philosophical beliefs. You can give me more of those scenes, or tell me more about her love/hate dynamic with Prince Prospero. And what if the religion she felt so strongly about had been Judaism? How would that change the story in an alternate universe?

The Frisco Kid

I love this movie. I love Avram and Tommy’s friendship- they’re just so sweet together! I’d love to see more of them, be it gen friendship or slash. And if you haven’t seen the movie, please take this as encouragement to do so. Young Gene Wilder and young Harrison Ford! It’s great!

Dracula- Bram Stoker

Dracula is my favorite novel and Mina Harker is my favorite character, so I’d love to see something about her and/or Lucy. This could be a missing episode during the plot of the book, an episode after, or an alternate canon divergence universe. I’m not too keen on the ‘Mina is Dracula’s reincarnated wife and/or Jonathan is evil’ trope, but otherwise I’m open to any sort of wackiness (or seriousness!) If you’re looking for a way to fit Jewish culture into this prompt, tell me what happens when Jewish symbols are used against vampires. Do they work? What’s the theology and/or metaphysics behind what works?

The Addams Family (1991)

I’ve long headcanoned the Addams family (or at the very least Morticia) as Jewish, and I’d love to see that in fanfic form! Or, if you don’t feel like writing that, I’ll take a slice of life with Morticia and/or Wednesday. Wednesday’s summer camp rebellion was important to me as a child, and Morticia is who I long to be as an adult, after all!

Arthurian Mythology

Welcome to my current fixation. I got some lovely fic about Ragnelle last Purimgifts, and I’m always up for more, or somthing that explores Morgan (as either friend or foe or both) or Guinevere (as conflicted lover or faithful wife) or Vivian/Nimue (as hero or villain.) How did the ladies of Camelot survive- or not- Mordred’s coup? If you want to do something Jewish, tell me how things work in Camelot. We know there are Saracen knights- are there Jewish ones? Did Camelot approach a progressive place in its own fumbling ahistorical way?

Darkest Dungeon

There are lots of female characters to choose from here! My fave is the Graverobber, but they’re all great. Tell me a funny thing that happened in one of your games, or ship a lady with a partner of your choice (het or femslash are both fine), keep it restricted to the main game or bring in stuff from the Crimson Court or The Color of Madness. Or even tell me a story about the Countess!

Twin Peaks

Look, I’ll come out and say it- I think the female characters were done dirty by the sequel and book materials, especially Audrey and Donna. I’d like to think something positive could have happened to them in another universe (I’m neutral on Audrey/Dale, but having her forever pine after him after having been raped by his doppleganger and giving birth to a soulless child and married to a man she hates and confined to an asylum was a special kind of cruelty.) So I’ll take fix fic, or if you just don’t want to touch that area at all, something nice happening to Donna, Audrey, Shelley or even Laura’s ghost during seasons 1 or 2 would be really nice.

Fallout: New Vegas

My Courier is female, so I’ll happily take fem!Courier fic, but I’d also enjoy something about Cass, Veronica or Lily. I’d also love to think of my Courier as Jewish, and generally ship her with Boone, but any of these details are totally optional. I just love this world- the characters, the dialogue, the complex political relationships- and I love getting to spend time there in fic. Do something scary with our heroine(s) up against the Legion or do something fluffy about singing folksongs in the desert, I’ll love it either way!

English and Scottish Popular Ballads- Francis James Child

I’ll honestly take anything with this. I love folk music, and I’d love to hear any of the ballads expanded on. (Young Lord Hugh is, uh, probably not the easiest choice, but if you want to tell me how the Jewish villainess was actually framed, be my guest.) There are so many intriguing women in these songs, just pick your favorite heroine or villainess and go for it!

Kushiel’s Legacy

I love every Night Court worldbuilding story I read! I’d love to know about your favorite house, whether it’s one we’ve seen in action or not- what the hell do they do in Alyssum? What’s it like for a Valerian adept who likes her job but doesn’t have Phaedre’s extreme masochism? If you want to take on a bigger challenge, my biggest complaint about this series is that I really, really don’t like how they did the Jewish characters. If you think you could write out a scenario with Jews in the world of Kushiel who aren’t either merged with Christians or poor lost souls just waiting for the light of Elua, please give it a try!

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ohblackdiamond · 6 years ago

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no change in the weather (peter/paul, nc-17)

“You’re gonna owe me the rest of your life for joining the band. Just like I’m gonna owe you the rest of my life for letting me in. Whether you like it or not, that’s the way it’s always gonna be.” During the Farewell Tour, Peter confronts Paul.

Notes: Credit to @collatxral-damage for input on the initial rough draft and the necklace; without it I don’t think this fic would’ve been completed.

“no change in the weather”

by Ruriruri

It’s wild when he lets it hit him, just how long he’s known Paul Stanley. More than half the bastard’s life. He was still Stanley Eisen when they met, legally, at least, but he’d never been that to Peter. He’d introduced himself in front of Hendrix’s old studio as Paul, stuck out his hand nervously and smiled, there with his long, curly hair and flower-printed tee and jeans. Peter remembered being disappointed, and then just resigned. Paul told him later he was twenty, but he looked younger. He looked like a kid. It had been ten times worse during his actual audition, when Gene and Paul both walked into the restaurant he played at wearing the exact same hippie outfits as before.

“You guys just stay in the back, all right?” Peter had gestured, unnecessarily, to the clientele in their immaculate suits and ties. “They think you’re fruits.”

They think you’re fags would have been more accurate, but he hadn’t wanted to blow his own audition with an insult. Paul and Gene both knew it, anyway. Gene had kind of nodded and Paul had followed him over to the corner of the restaurant. Peter had played the set and that was it; he was in. He was in the band of a part-time cabbie and a schoolteacher. A band that didn’t even have a name yet. Didn’t even have a lead guitarist yet.

In five months, they’d gotten the name and the lead guitarist. Another five or so and they had the record deal, and then they were on the road. And by that time, he’d spent a stupid amount of time with that kid. Eaten the sandwiches he’d brought back from the deli on the way to band practice. Listened to him bitch and fret on the phone and in person, share his dreams in weird, furtive little bursts, as though Paul was always counting on a dismissal before he even got the words out.

“I used to have this fantasy,” he’d confessed once, late at night, after a show, “when I was real young. Like, shit, maybe eight or nine, I dunno.”

“That’s kinda young for fantasies. You find a dirty magazine or something?” Peter had taken another gulp of beer and sat up in the bed across from Paul’s, squinting at his face in the dim lamplight. They’d shared a girl just after the show, a pretty brunette undergrad. Showered together after she left, fooled around in there a little too long. Gone from smacking each other with washcloths to real stupid stuff. Jacking each other off as the shower ran, high off the excitement of the concert and the girl. Once they’d stepped out of the bathroom, with all the evidence washed down the drain, Peter had thought he’d feel awful about it, but he hadn’t. He still felt good and high and—secure, oddly secure.

��Not a sex fantasy, pervert.” There hadn’t been a blowdryer in the hotel room, so Paul was lying in bed with a towel wrapped tight around his hair. Every so often, he’d rearrange it and try to twist out a little more of the water. “Anyway, I’d be in the schoolyard and sitting up in some chair and all my classmates would be down beneath me, calling me King Paul.”

“That’s pretty screwed-up,” Peter said after awhile, and Paul had glanced away. “Who do you think you are, Joseph out of the Bible? You want everyone who ever picked on you worshipping you?”

“I didn’t say they picked on me.”

“You didn’t have to.”

There’d probably been plenty to pick on, from what Peter could see. Paul had been a bit fat and still was a bit effeminate, and he had a lisp that he kept trying to get rid of but couldn’t. Not that it took much for grammar school kids to start tormenting. But most people got over it. Peter had, or thought he had. Up until that night, he’d thought his and Paul’s rockstar ambitions came from the same place. They didn’t.

It should’ve been more of a wedge between them than it managed to be. From then on, they kept sharing girls and kept fooling around every so often. They didn’t discuss it. It didn’t mean anything. Peter would do it with Ace, too—Ace was wilder, warmer about it, but Paul, for all his shyness, was more consistent. Just something that took the edge off, something that felt a little more real than dressing up in bondage gear to play the drums four days out of every week.

About a year later came the Hotter Than Hell photoshoot. Lydia sitting nearly naked in his lap, soft and flirting as he’d posed with her. Paul laying ten feet behind him on that king-sized bed, uncharacteristically soused, head lolling like a rose on too thin a stem, just about ready to break. Just about ready to pass out. There’d been a couple guys on the set, too. One of them had been watching Paul, tossing out catcalls Paul was too drunk to do more than laugh at. Peter had laughed, too, at first, until the guy started to head toward the bed between shots, until the come-ons got nastier. Paul was still laughing then, completely oblivious, guileless as a kid, half-dangling off the bed as he tried scooting over to offer the guy some room.

Peter hadn’t seen anything else, but he’d heard Gene stomping over. Heard the thump as he shoved the guy off the bed and onto the hard studio tile. Twenty minutes later and the shoot was over and Gene had locked Paul in his own car, like he thought the pervert was going to drag him out bodily, and that was that.

Peter had felt a little sick, thinking about it. Even back then. He hadn’t stopped it. Been too damn stupid to think it’d get any farther than a kiss or a grope, at best. Only Gene had recognized the danger for what it was.

Afterwards, half-sober at best, Peter had tried to ask him about it. Maybe even thank him for it. Gene had just shrugged.

“Paul’s fragile.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve only been living in the same room with him the entire year.”

“You don’t understand.” Something in Gene’s expression had curdled. His voice was lower; there was an edge to it Peter didn’t recognize. “Paul can’t—handle things.”

Peter hadn’t pushed for any more of an explanation, for once. The look on Gene’s face told him enough. Christ, he’d never thought Gene had ever handled anything more traumatizing from a woman than a venereal disease. Thought all his stupid bravado about the girls he’d laid was only because he’d never really gotten any until the band got big. He hadn’t thought there was any more to it than that. Hadn’t wanted there to be any more to it than that.

But even Hotter than Hell’s more than twenty years on. Twenty-six years on, now, and Gene’s still up to all the old bullshit there anyway. Fidelity never did matter to him when he had Cher, when he had Diana, and it doesn’t matter to him now that he’s got two kids by a Playboy Playmate he won’t even give his last name to. No Coop, but he’s still getting the roadies to pick out chicks for him during the show. Huge-titted blondes that weren’t even alive during KISS’ prime. It’s like Gene thinks there’s a fountain of youth in being desired. Like hell he really is desired now—he’s just a bedpost notch they can brag about to their girlfriends later. Same as he ever was. Same as any of them ever were.

But Gene isn’t the only one. Ace has some drugged-out girlfriend that’s there often enough; otherwise, he’s got a groupie or two that he finds himself. He’s got computers set up in his hotel room, probably cameras, too, as if he’s going for one more hedonistic thrill. Ace used to seem indestructible. Even five, six years ago, he seemed indestructible, like maybe the Jendell bullshit wasn’t bullshit and he’d keep on and on and on, bouncing back from every wasted night. He’s faltering now. He’s really faltering now.

Paul, well. Paul’s in bad shape from all the stage stunts he’s still stupidly pulling. Probably back to gulping down white cross before shows just like he used to in the seventies. But for all his come-ons and preening onstage, he isn’t even trying to pull the girls into bed anymore. Just stalks off to his hotel room alone after concerts, barricading himself in like fucking Greta Garbo.

Paul’s wife used to drop by sometimes. She hasn’t this entire tour, and fuck, Paul honestly seems to think Peter doesn’t know why.

Paul seems to think Peter doesn’t know a lot of things. Par for the fucking course. When Peter calls him out on it, about the tour profits, the contract renegotiations—Paul dismisses him out of hand as smoothly as he would a journalist trying to get an angle. Gene isn’t any better about it, but it hurts worse, coming from Paul. Maybe because he didn’t used to be half this slimy. Maybe because he used to care.

Maybe because Paul still has something like a hold on him. Materially, anyway. God knows he hasn’t touched the guy for anything more than a handclasp or hug for the cameras in years, for all Peter’s certain Paul still thinks he’s worth fooling around with. No. Paul had had sort of a fascination with crosses, one he’d obliquely apologize for (“I think they look cool, guess that makes me a pretty lousy Jew”), whether Gene was next to him or not. They’d traded off a couple times, worn each other’s jewelry. Not just for photoshoots, but for going out in general. Paul swapping out the gold Star of David necklace he occasionally wore for one of Peter’s smaller crosses. Never the crucifixes, only the crosses. At some point Peter had just given one to him, out of convenience. The only reason he remembers is because Paul tried to put it on immediately and got the chain stuck in his hair. Peter’d had to help him free it. Doesn’t matter. Some little eighteen-karat necklace from the days they’d both drop thousands a month just on their wardrobes. Paul probably doesn’t even have it anymore.

It’s just as well.

He catches a glimpse of Paul behind him in the hallway one afternoon around noon. Paul glances his way, speeds up, then they’re walking together in silence, passing a couple stiff-suited businessmen on the way to the elevator. Paul pushes the lobby button, then looks over at him again, finger still hovering over the panel. Peter shrugs.

“Same.”

“Oh.” Paul pauses, resting a foot against the side of the elevator, all the way up against the metal railing. Has to be uncomfortable just holding that position, but Paul doesn’t flinch or even wobble. It’s like he thinks Peter has a camera at the ready for a photoshoot ten years too late to attract anybody. “You hungry?”

With Gigi back home, he’s been taking half his own lunches alone in his hotel room, not wanting to spend the meal listening to Paul bitch or Gene hit on the waitresses. Not wanting to see Ace drink himself to oblivion. He starts to shrug again, but Paul’s expression, weird and a little strained, keeps an outright no at bay.

“Wanna stop somewhere with me?”

The elevator dings before Peter answers. He keeps staring at Paul as the elevator descends, looking for some sign of deception. That smarmy, satisfied look he couldn’t erase while he was busy screwing him and Ace over. He can’t find it. The bags under Paul’s eyes are worse than usual. Eyeliner’s on, probably concealer, too. It’s just his mouth, pursed and crooked, giving him away now. Paul’s not trying to pull one on him right now. He’s just sad as hell.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t care.” And then, seeing Paul’s deflated look as they get off the elevator, “Maybe something light like sandwiches.”

“There’s a bistro down the block. Gene said it was pretty good.” Paul digs a pair of sunglasses out of his pants pocket and puts them on.

“You’re pickier than Gene.”

“I won’t send anything back. Promise.”

“Like I believe that.”

“No, really, I won’t. Well, maybe if it’s really awful, but…”

They pass up the front desk on their way out. The girl behind it offers a cheeky little wave and a giggle that can’t be part of the five-star hotel experience at all. Paul lifts his hand idly and offers a smile, and Peter does, too, both speeding up their pace so she won’t have time to ask for a picture.

Maybe a picture wouldn’t have been such a bad thing to stop for. No one comes up to them the entire walk to the bistro. Peter feels a couple of stares from passerby, but none of the old excitable murmurs, those are-you-sures and it’s-them-it’s-them-I-swear. No screaming, sobbing high school girls trying to grab Paul by the arm like they thought he’d run off with them if they just tugged hard enough. No bodyguards following them around to keep fans in check. All the old ego boosts are gone except for the roar of the concert crowd.

Paul holds the door open for him at the restaurant. They have to seat themselves, a piece of normalcy Peter feels like he should resent, but he doesn’t. Peter barely glances at the menu before ordering a Reuben sandwich, fries, and a Sprite, while Paul yanks off his sunglasses and deliberates for five minutes over whether to get a half-sandwich, half-soup combo or just the soup. He ends up getting the lobster bisque instead.

“That’s really all you’re eating?” Peter asks as he passes the menus back to the waitress. Paul shrugs.

“I’m not that hungry.”

“First time in a long time.”

“What, me not being hungry?”

“No. You having soup for lunch.”

“It’s a bisque, be specific—”

“Are you going to have candy for dinner, too? Like you used to?”

Paul winces.

“God, I’m not that sentimental.”

“The hell you’re not,” Peter says, and he means it harsher than it comes out; instead, the words sound almost warm, almost fond. He can’t manage to call Paul out on his own nostalgia trips with any real rancor when he’s putting on the old greasepaint, too. “You used to eat, what, two rolls of Life Savers before concerts—”

“And a bag of Satellite Wafers for nutrition.” Paul stirs the bisque before taking a swallow. His nose wrinkles as Peter watches, but true to his word, he doesn’t send it back or even start complaining, just reaches across the table to get the pepper shaker. “Or maybe because they were about five calories a wafer, who knows? You can’t even get them anymore.”

Peter shifts a little in his seat. The Reuben’s just okay, nothing great, but the fries are fresh and smothered in grease. There’s that oily sheen radiating off them unapologetically in the dim lighting of the bistro. Miles better than the five-star shit Paul raves about. If he’s not careful, he’ll finish them off in another five minutes.

“I never ate all the Life Savers. Gene always got the cherry ones.”

“Does he even like cherry?”

“He likes getting his tongue red.” Paul takes another few spoonfuls of the bisque. Peter expects him to continue, to start a stupid tirade against Gene—they’re not the big buddies they used to be right now, as if Peter cares—but there’s nothing.

Nothing except that worn-down look on Paul’s face and that emptiness in those too-big, too-sad brown eyes. The girls used to go crazy for them, just nuts, but Peter had only ever been reminded of a droopy-eyed beagle. Without the Starchild façade perking them up, the comparison’s more accurate than ever.

It should be satisfying, Paul having a hard time. Should really make Peter feel vindicated for the hell he’s been through over the last decade, to see Paul really struggling to pull himself together. It’s about time Paul struggled for anything. A guy like him, so fucking sensitive and vain, stupid enough to believe his own hype even now. Greedy and spiteful enough to be sucking him and Ace dry for daring to ever quit the band. Berating him during practice like he’s just a hired gun, like he’s Eric Carr or Singer, those poor bastards. Enjoying knocking him down peg after fucking peg. It ought to feel great knowing Paul’s sinking faster and harder than he ever did, knowing he’s trying to crush Peter’s ego out of his own flat-out misery.

But every time Peter looks at Paul, he doesn’t feel satisfied or pleased or any of that shit, just hollowed-out and edgy all at once. Like he should do something—which is fucking stupid. There’s nothing he’s ever been able to do for Paul. Not in twenty years at least. Paul doesn’t want anything from him, either, except a series of servile yeses and contract signatures and a drumming ability his destroyed arms can’t manage. Paul’s never wanted anything from him that Peter could offer up.

Peter’s tapping his fingers against the table before he realizes it. At first Peter doesn’t think Paul notices, either, until he feels his eyes on him.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” A breath, then, quiet, abrupt—“You better go easier on yourself sometimes, Paul.”

“I can’t.”

“You should,” Peter says, insists, weirdly, and then he shoves the basket of fries towards Paul’s side of the table.

He’s not positive why he’s done it. He doubts Paul will do anything but push them back. Wouldn’t be the first time. Paul’s piss-poor relationship with food is just like everything else in his life, all about control and a desperate need for approval. He’d starve if he thought it’d make one more chick in the audience think he was attractive. Eat an entire cake if that same girl told him he looked good doing it. No real sense of self, just a still-pretty face Peter shouldn’t give a damn about anymore.

Paul’s expression shifts slightly. He doesn’t look quite as blatantly miserable there for a second, as he reaches out his hand—black nail polish chipped, knuckles ragged—and takes a fry from the basket. Hesitates, eats it carefully, like it’s something delicate—and then he puts a hand on the basket, about to push it aside.

“Paul, c’mon, it won’t kill you. Lose any more weight and you’re gonna need those suspenders.”

“Pete, I can’t—”

“Sure, you can,” and Peter reaches over and takes another fry, holding it up a few inches from Paul’s mouth.

To Paul’s credit, he doesn’t glance around the restaurant, or snap at Peter to cut that shit out. Maybe even he realizes nobody’s looking. His fingers curve on top of Peter’s—no wedding ring—and he leans in, tugging the fry out of Peter’s grasp with his teeth and tongue, and eats it. There’s the quick flick of Paul’s tongue against his skin, brief enough Peter almost wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for that glint in Paul’s eyes. That sudden eagerness. Just like he’s found an advantage to press. Just like one of their old impromptu photoshoots. The effect isn’t the same on a dozen different levels, but something too-familiar and raw coils up in Peter’s stomach anyway. He starts to move his hand down, but Paul catches his wrist before he can manage.

“You gonna give me another?”

“Quit fucking around, Paul.”

“I’m not fucking around.”

“You are. Knock it off.” Peter yanks his hand back. Paul lets him.

“I—” Paul falters. He looks a little hurt, bewildered, maybe, which is strange to watch. He almost looks like he’s about to apologize, which is even crazier, but then his lips purse tight and he snatches a sudden, awkward fistful of the fries. Then he pushes the basket back with his other hand.

They don’t talk much after that. Paul makes some halfhearted conversation about Gigi, asking when she’ll be back by. When Jenilee’ll be back by. Peter barely answers, just eats the rest of the Reuben as Paul finishes off the fries he took. The only real discussion they have is over the check.

“I’ve got it.”

“No, I’ve got it. I invited you out.” Paul’s already thumbing through his wallet. Peter catches a brief glimpse of the plastic-covered photos inside, and he’s vaguely surprised to see Evan and his niece Ericka in there instead of Starchild. Evidence of Paul’s basic humanity’s been just that lacking lately. Paul pulls out a twenty and a five, sticks them on top of the bill, and stands up. “You coming back to the hotel?”

“Got nowhere else to be.”

“Sure? We’ve got six hours before they want us at the stadium.”

Almost thirty years of knowing him, and Paul still doesn’t want to go anywhere alone. The guts that made him eager to sing to twenty thousand people a night, paired with an anxiety that crippled him out of being able to do basic fucking things like sit in a restaurant by himself. Probably still does. Probably exactly why he even invited Peter along.

“I’m still heading back. You go off if you want.”

“No, I’ll head back, too.” And it’s confirmed, no matter what Paul says next to justify it. Peter’s just another prop to stave off his own pitiful lonesomeness. “I mean, there’s nothing really here to see.”

---

The walk back from the bistro isn’t as quiet as the walk there. A couple passerby stop them for autographs and they pose for all of one photo before getting back inside the hotel. The attention perks them both up, briefly, especially Paul, and they’re talking again on the way to the elevator.

“That last girl was really looking at you, Pete.”

“She was looking at both of us, c’mon.”

“No, no, it was you, I could tell.” Paul starts to smile. “She said she had your solo album.”

“I had four of those,” but Peter can’t manage much rancor over it. It feels a little too good to be wanted, however briefly. The concert crowd, fickle as it is, rarely compares to a gushing fan out on the streets.

“I’m just saying, she didn’t say she had mine. You could’ve had a real easy opening.”

“Yeah, twenty years ago. C’mon, Paul, I’m done with the groupie shit. So’re you.”

Paul blinks, then inclines his head and pushes the button for the elevator.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m done with a lot,” Paul says shortly. For a second Peter almost wants to push it with him. Call him out on why Pam never comes around. Ask him if it’s the groupies from the last four years—or fuck, the last ten—or if it’s the escort services he used to patron on tour, or if it’s just too many years of breathing the same air as him that’s made her leave. It might be worth it after Paul’s stunt at the restaurant. It might really be worth it to see Paul’s expression crumple, except that’s not the crux of what’s bothering Peter, and it never has been.

“Done fucking me over?”

“What?”

That stupid doe-eyed look again. That twitch to Paul’s mouth as the elevator ascends like a ski lift.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Peter, what’ve I done—”

The elevator dings and they get off, Paul still giving him that look like he really has no idea at all. Peter speeds up, trying to force Paul to pick up the pace.

“You’re cheating me. I sign whatever the hell you want me to sign after I get my lawyer on it, and every month I get a fucking check that doesn’t even match the terms in the contract. Now explain that one.”

“It’s based on ticket sales, Peter, I explained that.”

“You didn’t explain shit.”

“You wanna look at numbers? I’ll get out whatever paperwork you want. The Reunion Tour was a flash in the pan. We won’t ever make that kind of money again.”

“Oh, you’ll make it. You’ll run this show straight into the ground just to get one more nickel.” Peter exhales. “I can’t take this shit anymore. You guys are fucking me at every turn.”

Paul stops dead in his tracks. Looks him straight in the eye and takes his arm. Peter’s too surprised to flinch or pull back as Paul leans in, right in the middle of the hallway, and kisses him on the mouth.

He hasn’t kissed him in years. Years. Peter’s mouth might as well be a plank of wood for all he responds to the still-familiar pressure. There’s no warmth to it. Paul’s eyes are closed and his hand’s squeezing Peter’s arm, but there’s no warmth to it at all, no pleasure, no want, even, nothing but meanness. By the time Paul pulls away, there’s a sick, choked feeling somewhere in Peter’s throat, almost a shakiness as he yanks his arm back, and then Paul’s got the nerve to spin another lie.

“Peter, I swear on my kids, there’s nothing going on.”

“The hell there isn’t,” Peter manages, shoving Paul aside and walking straight back toward his hotel room.

“Pete—wait—”

Paul’s following him. Peter can hear those stupid, clipped steps of his against the carpet, one more unforeseen product of wearing six-inch heels for over a decade. But Peter just quickens his pace, tugs out his keycard midstride and shoves it into the slot, satisfaction seeping through him as he slams the door right in Paul’s face. He doesn’t even wait for Paul’s knock before throwing open the minibar door and getting out a bottle of champagne, one he doesn’t even end up drinking. The sight of the label makes him think of Ace and how many braincells the poor bastard’s fried with every drop fizzing down his throat. Ace’ll be mush onstage soon if he doesn’t quit, and Paul won’t care, and Gene won’t care, as long as he can shudder through the solos. They won’t care at all.

He thinks, crazily, about pouring every single bottle down the sink. Paul and Gene can pay for it. Put it on their ever-expanding tab. Paul’s upcoming divorce is already on it. A minibar full of booze ought to be the least of their concerns.

He doesn’t do it. He doesn’t do anything, just lays on the bed for over an hour before he hears a knock at all. Long enough he’s sure it’s a cleaning lady, and doesn’t check the peephole before opening the door. He regrets it as soon as he’s gotten the door those first few inches open. There’s Paul.

He almost shuts the door. God only knows why he doesn’t. God only knows why he walks into the hallway and closes the door behind him, except to get the satisfaction of making Paul take a few steps back.

“Pete, look, come over to my room, we can go over everything. Whatever documentation you want. If I don’t have it, Gene will. I want to be fair with you.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Paul.”

“You just might. C’mon.”

“No.” Peter pauses. “No, you get in here.”

“But all the paperwork—” Paul starts.

“I don’t care. You meet me on my terms or you won’t meet me at all.”

Paul looks at him flatly. Disbelieving. As if Peter’s just throwing another fit for no good reason. As though Peter really is just a paranoid asshole, as though Paul’s some innocent angel. Peter’s pulse feels more like a battering ram pounding at his neck once Paul answers.

“It’s hotel rooms, Peter, what’s it matter to you?”

“You’ll do it or I’m cutting out. You can get Singer back and wave goodbye to half your fucking ticket sales.”

Paul starts to laugh.

“You can’t pull that shit anymore.”

“No, you can’t afford for me to pull that shit anymore.”

“The fuck do you expect, Peter? You expect me and Gene to just bend over backwards for your whiny ass? You think it’s ’73 again? You think you can threaten to quit whenever you want and—”

“No, I don’t think that. I know that. And I think a guy who’s about to get divorced might wanna hold onto every dime he—”

Paul grabs the door handle to Peter’s room. Yanks it, pointlessly. Peter tries not to snort as he pulls the card key out of his pocket and unlocks the door, tugging it open for Paul to come in first. He does, immediately shoving aside the phone and alarm clock from the nightstand to lean up against it. Peter just sits on the bed.

It’s plush in the suites. It has been ever since the Reunion tour four years back. Every hotel elegant to the point of being uncomfortable. Themed rooms—not tacky Vegas shit, either. Jacuzzis. Gene had told Peter at some point over dinner, a month or two ago, that it’d been Paul’s doing.

“He doesn’t think we’ll feel big in Ramada Inns,” he’d said, almost embarrassed. None of that interview-ready self-assurance. Weird as hell to see Gene acquiesce to any of Paul’s bullshit instead of brush it off.

“We didn’t need a ritzy hotel to feel big twenty years ago. We were big.”

Gene had shrugged.

“It’s perception. Maybe he’s right. Elvis wouldn’t have done a farewell tour and come back to a Motel 6.”

“Elvis had the dignity to keel over first,” Peter muttered, and Gene had laughed, and laughed hard, enough that he almost choked on a bite of one of the cookies he’d ordered for dessert. The conversation hadn’t eased Peter’s mind much, still certain at least half the star treatment was just another means to placate him and Ace while cheating them both. The other half was just feeding rotten egos.

The soft, yielding mattress might as well be concrete for how comfortable he feels sinking down onto it. Peter almost expects Paul to snap at him immediately, but at first, he’s just standing there against the nightstand, hands behind him, curling over the table’s edges.

“You got me in here. Congratulations. You going to rail me out over your contract? Complain about how fucking unfair it is that you’re not getting a quarter-share of everything? Go ahead. I’ve heard it the last four years, but go ahead. Maybe it’ll wear a little better now, who the fuck knows. What do you want, Peter? I’m all ears.”

“I just bet you are.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wanna know what I want?” Peter’s voice sounds weird even to him, close to throaty. Nerves all stretched out, taut and tight as piano wire. “I want a bandmate instead of a dictator. I want to share the stage with somebody I can stand to be around. But that ain’t happening. I guess I’d be better off asking for my quarter-share.”

“Don’t try to play me—”

“Then don’t you ever fucking kiss me again unless you mean it.”

Paul just stares at him. He looks almost as though he’s about to laugh, his mouth twitching up for a second or two, and then he shakes his head.

“That’s what this is about? Really? God forbid I get my mouth on you anymore. I guess once you’ve got a good Christian girl you’re done fucking Jews—”

“I haven’t fucked you in years.”

“Nah, you’ve just fucked me over.” Paul does laughs then, throatily. “You say I’m the one doing it when it’s been you the whole time. You and Ace and Gene. You all jumped ship the second you got tired of it. The second KISS wasn’t fun anymore.”

“I didn’t jump ship—”

“Decided you’d rather play house and do coke than play the fucking drums. Right before we were set to tour—but that’s fine. Doesn’t matter. Ace quits. We lose fifteen million. That’s fine. That doesn’t matter. Just me and Gene, right? Like you thought we always wanted, right?” Another laugh. “I didn’t ever want that.”

“You sure as hell gave off that impression.”

“I didn’t want it. I wanted a team, I wanted the four of us. I thought we were gonna be like the Beatles. Like they were in the movies. I really thought—I was a kid, I bought into it. I thought they really did stay all together in the same damn house and—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I was so naïve, I…”

“A team stands up for each other. I don’t remember you doing a whole lot of that when Ezrin—”

“I’m not talking about Ezrin. I’m talking about the band. Or what was left of it.” Paul shifts against the nightstand, yanking a hand through his hair. “You think we were still living it up after you quit. I don’t know what the hell ever gave you that idea.”

“Must’ve been all those gold albums.”

“Yeah, all two of them.” Paul snorts. “Lucky we even got that many. Gene fucking off to Hollywood was the last straw. Left me holding the bag for everybody. Found out if I wanted a record made, I had to pull the whole damn thing together myself. Like the solo albums all over again, except nobody was in line begging to collaborate anymore. I got fucking front-row seats to watch KISS turn into the biggest joke in the industry. I had to beg on my hands and knees just to get the band on MTV. And meanwhile you still got your nice quarter-share of all my work. You got that for eight fucking years after you quit. Just right out there for you.” Paul takes a breath. His voice is starting to crack. “Then you’ve got the nerve to say you want anything out of me. You don’t deserve what you’re getting out of me.”

“You want me to feel sorry for you, Paul? Is that it?”

“Please, the only person you’ve ever felt sorry for in your whole life is yourself. I know you couldn’t give less of a shit.”

“That’s a lie. If I didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t still be touring with you.”

Paul’s expression starts to twitch. Then it hardens back up right like it used to, when an insult cut a little too close, like every insult did, and his mouth tightened and he’d be sniping for the next half-hour. He starts to say something, but Peter cuts him off before he can.

“I wouldn’t tour with you, I wouldn’t eat with you, I wouldn’t even talk to you.” Peter exhales. “But I do. I owe it to you. And you owe me something, too.”

“Don’t act like you’re such a martyr for wanting a paycheck,” Paul snaps out. “What do I owe you for? ‘Beth’? You still get your royalties—”

“Not ‘Beth.’ It ain’t that simple.” Peter’s hands are sweaty against the covers. “You’re gonna owe me the rest of your life for joining the band, Paul. Just like I’m gonna owe you the rest of my life for letting me in. Whether you like it or not, that’s the way it’s always gonna be.”

“I don’t owe you a goddamn thing. I don’t—” Paul pushes forward from where he’s been leaning against the nightstand. His eyes are glassy, that strange, haunted look making every curve and jut of his face seem like it’s carved from alabaster. It’s only when Pete feels a tug on his sleeve that he realizes Paul’s reached out a hand. “Come with me and I’ll prove it to you. I-I’ll make sure.”

He shouldn’t get up. He shouldn’t follow him. It’s going to be another attempt at robbing him of what’s his. Paul’s going to use the time it takes to get there to get his bearings and then he’ll really lay in on him, cut him up with surgical precision. Peter’s never going to get the contract fixed. He’s never going to get the money he’s owed. He’s never going to get that flowerchild wannabe back again, that shy kid still propelled by a dream from when he was eight, that vulnerable, stupid kid who had to be protected. He’s gone now. He’s been gone for decades. Even the nightly stageshow’s just a parody of the Paul that Peter remembers.

But Peter does get up, and he does follow him. Not to some conference room like he expects. He doesn’t call up Gene or any lawyers or Doc. Paul just takes him four doors down to his hotel room, lets him in.

Inside, it’s the same bland opulence as in his own suite. The same “Welcome, KISS” banner from the hotel next to the full-length mirror. A made-up, empty bed. No printouts or laptops. Paul hasn’t gotten any business materials out at all. Paul heads straight for the vanity, pushing away a small stash of makeup and creams as Peter watches. It’s a second or two before Paul’s hand closes around a small velvet box, pops it open, and he pulls something out and pushes it into Peter’s palm.

“There. That’s all. You wanna renegotiate the contract, talk to Gene. I’ll tell him to give you whatever you want.”

“Paul—”

“I don’t owe you. I don’t owe you, all right?”

Paul’s not looking him in the face now. His eyes are on the vanity table. Slowly, Peter opens his palm and looks down, confirming what he already knew he’d been given, the metal hard and cold in his hand. It’s nothing special. Eighteen karat gold. No tarnishes. No scratches. It’s the cross necklace he’d given Paul more than twenty years ago.

All of a sudden, Peter can’t lift his gaze from his own hand. His eyes are burning, and he’s far too aware of every breath pushing through his lungs. The cross glints in his palm, dangling heavy as an oath from its chain, and he can’t seem to close his fingers back around it. Can barely seem to speak.

“This is yours.”

“It’s not. It’s yours. I’m giving it back.” Paul still isn’t facing him, still staring at the vanity counter, fingers curved on its edge. He isn’t even looking at his own reflection in the mirror. “Y-you can go on now. I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

“Paulie.”

Paul stiffens up. Peter doesn’t see him do it, but he can tell, something in the way he shifts. He won’t ever get another chance. He knows it. Peter tears his gaze away from the necklace, fingers closing around the cross, and he takes a breath and says his name again.

“Paulie.”

Peter swallows and steps behind him. Paul doesn’t react at first. Peter almost expects Paul to start snapping at him, or pop off with some acidic comment to make him leave. Peter takes the chain between his fingers, cross dangling, as he drapes it over Paul. No wild mop of curls to brush forward anymore. He hesitates, watching Paul’s expression in the mirror, waiting for a sign that he should pull away, but Paul doesn’t move or shake his head or anything. His eyes are a little watery, and he’s biting his lip, but the rest of his expression’s blank up until Peter’s fingers brush against his collar as he closes the clasp. Then his lip starts to twitch and he turns around, bracing one hand against the counter.

“Pete—”

“It’s yours.”

Paul looks stunned. He reaches up to the necklace like he can’t believe it’s there. There’s something painfully nostalgic about watching Paul fingering that cross, watching a real moment of surprise sweep across his features. Reminiscent enough to almost hurt.

Peter’s sick of hurting. Now he knows Paul is, too.

His hand finds Paul’s shoulder a moment later, only to shift over to cup his cheek as he leans in, thumb dragging across his jaw. Peter can still feel the tension even as Paul inclines his head to meet his lips. Paul’s mouth against his is timid at first, almost afraid, for all that he’d kissed him so hard in the hallway. Peter has to ease him into it at first, like the steps to a half-remembered dance, fingers roving gently down from Paul’s face to the back of his neck.

They never did talk about it back then. What they liked. Just went in blind and laughed off the screw-ups. Paul was always headstrong with the groupies, all too willing to initiate, but shyer with him. Peter’s going off what he remembers and what Paul’s responding to, trying to be gentle without coddling, fervent without overwhelming. Trying to impart some meaning, some reassurance. It’s been so long, Peter forgot what a delicate, frustrating balance it is with him.

He almost doesn’t think it’s paying off, for all that there’s less caution to Paul’s kisses now, the brief swipe of Paul’s tongue against his lips. Peter parts them on automatic and Paul’s there, tongue darting lightly at first, then a little more urgently. He breaks off the kiss for a breath, hands shifting to rest on Paul’s shoulders, only to feel Paul get his arm around his waist and pull him in close, until they’re flush against each other. Then Peter knows Paul’s getting his bearings again, though feeling the start of Paul’s hard-on against his thigh is plenty, and flattering, evidence enough. It’s taking Peter longer to get there, but Paul seems determined, rocking against him steadily, groping and fondling his ass. Peter responds in turn, eager, pressing in hard, grinding their hips together, until Paul’s soft grunts turn into a groan.

“Pete, every time you do that, you’re knocking me against the vanity.”

Peter just grins.

“Then maybe we better move.” His grip tightens on Paul’s shoulders as he leads him towards the bed. Peter tries once to turn him around so his back’s facing the bed, but Paul doesn’t respond and so Peter doesn’t attempt it again, just lets Paul press him up to the bed, easing against him until he’s seated. Paul doesn’t seem half as nervous now, pushing kisses against Peter’s neck as his fingers work the button and zipper of his jeans, tugging them down just enough to free his cock.

“All this time and you’re still not wearing underwear.” Paul’s breath is warm against his neck, a hint of a laugh in his words.

“I wouldn’t even wear the cup, what makes you think I’d—nghh,” Peter trails off as Paul’s hand wraps around his dick. Twenty years and, unsurprisingly, Paul’s hardly out of practice at all, the steady rhythm of his fingers urging Peter to full hardness before long. But it’s Paul’s mouth driving him crazy, the way he’s leaning in, the hunger of each kiss. Peter returns it all eagerly, insistently, pressing tongue and teeth against the soft skin of Paul’s neck, not managing to stay there long enough to leave a real mark, while his hips push up with every pump of Paul’s hand, a hand that’s soon withdrawn. Peter’s about to complain when he realizes Paul’s sinking to his knees in front of him, rubbing his hands against his thighs. Peter puts his own hands on top of Paul’s, resting against his wrists.

“Paul, hey, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Paul’s hands shift beneath Peter’s, fingers rubbing circles along the seams of his jeans. “At least lemme get you worked up.”

“I’m pretty damn worked up as it is,” Peter retorts. Every second without some contact is making his arousal all the more distracting. Judging by the glint in Paul’s eyes, he knows it, too. Peter’s down; of course, he’s down. His uncertainty’s borne more out of concern for Paul’s comfort level than his own. If Paul’s pushing himself for the wrong reasons and they’re about to fuck each other up ten times worse. “You think you can handle it?”

Paul snorts.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific on where,” he says, and before Peter can respond with more than a laugh, Paul’s laving his tongue against his dick. Peter’s breath hitches, hands tightening around Paul’s wrists. Paul tugs meaningfully at his jeans, lets up for a second so Peter can pull them down further. They’re around his knees now, Paul roving his hands eagerly across his bare skin. Freshly shaven. The spandex costumes still won’t allow for anything less. “Either way, I got this. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

Paul starts in earnest, then. His mouth’s encircling his cock before too long, taking him in further and further, a hand closing over what he can’t fit inside his throat. The only performance Peter’s ever known Paul to stay quiet for, apart from those occasional soft hums, the vibration intense around his dick. He’s still adept as ever. It’s almost bewildering. It’s like the way he felt that first night when they all went backstage together and put the greasepaint back on again. How close it is. How much everything’s falling into place. Like the years are melting in front of him, time lapsing backwards if they’ll both just let it.

Peter closes his eyes briefly, his hands wandering from Paul’s wrists to his shoulders to finally his hair, fingers rubbing against his scalp. For all the time it took to get him here, Peter’s unraveling quickly, mumbling curses and groans, trying to resist the urge to move his hips as Paul’s throat constricts tight and wet around him. He’s starting to moan, watching Paul’s expression, simultaneously intense and dazed, and he has to force himself to tug his hair and get them both back to reality.

“If you wanna fuck today, you better stop now.”

There’s a pause, a lick to the underside of his cock, and then Paul slides his mouth off his dick with a wet pop.

“All right, all right,” he says after taking a few sharp breaths and clearing his throat, not bothering to wipe the spit from his face before standing up. Peter shoves his jeans the rest of the way down, kicking them to the floor, shifting to give Paul room to climb onto the bed. Onto him. Paul’s already stripping, peeling off his pants and boxers far too fast for it to be a show, to Peter’s relief. He’s watched enough of that over all their tours and even from the times they’d share girls. He’d never really done it for Peter. The only thing he's careful about is the necklace. Peter watches him carefully tuck it underneath his t-shirt just before tossing the shirt to the floor. Peter waits, expecting him to fumble with the clasp, but Paul doesn't, just heads to the bed, and Peter realizes, suddenly, warmly, that Paul's leaving it on.

They’re still showering together after the shows, the three of them, Gene still abstaining from the stupidest and longest-held of their concert rituals. The years haven’t been bad to Paul, but then, he hasn’t had quite as many. Hasn’t yet even hit fifty. Despite all the diets and workouts, Paul’s abdomen is softer when Peter runs a hand down his hairy chest, but that’s about the only appreciable difference. He doesn’t get a chance to pay too much attention. As soon as he’s helped Peter shuck off his own shirt, Paul’s all over him, none of the cautious hesitation from before, practically crawling into his lap. The cold metal of the necklace makes a shiver run down Peter’s spine when Paul presses his chest against his while he’s licking a long stripe against Peter’s neck, hard-on rubbing up against his stomach. Peter’s own erection is making him heady enough, half-afraid he’ll come from just their fooling around, but Paul’s almost desperate, hands everywhere his mouth isn’t. He’s toying with and sucking on Peter’s nipples the way he used to, leaving Peter panting, his dick aching painfully with every swipe of his tongue.

Paul only stops to rustle around in a drawer for the lube. At first Peter figures he’s overcompensating for earlier, but then he realizes that’s not it at all. Paul’s not trying to prove that old Lover persona right with the one person who’d never buy it. It’s just that every bit of contact, every touch of skin to skin is soothing and maddening all at once. It’s just that he’s longing, too.

Peter eases Paul onto his back after awhile, leaning over him, kissing him on the neck and cheek as he slicks himself up, starts to prep, Paul’s gaze on him feeling more intent than ever. He’d said he could handle it. God knows his mouth still could, the memory of it making Peter’s cock twitch anew, but he’s really not sure about the rest of him. Paul never complained about Peter’s dick being too much to take in the seventies, for what little that’s worth now. Paul grunts as Peter slips and crooks his fingers inside him, legs splayed, hips lifting up, urging him deeper. Peter feels the familiar, faint bite of short nails against his back, a sharp hiss of breath against his forehead as he keeps working Paul over, stretching him out further. He’s pleased that Paul’s moaning starts before Peter’s so much as rubbed his dick teasingly against his entrance.

“C’mon,” Paul urges, rocking up to meet thrusts Peter hasn’t even made yet. It’s flattering as hell, whether it’s for show or not. From the consternation in his expression, the sweat beading on his face and chest, Peter doesn’t think it is. He can’t argue with the plea, can’t tease further when he’s wanting it so badly himself. Before long, Peter’s entering him, slow at first, getting him accustomed. Erasing the separation between them. Trying to. Paul fidgets beneath him, a little quieter once Peter’s fully inside him—and maybe that’d worry Peter more, if he wasn’t starting to smile, if his fingers hadn’t gone from digging into Peter’s back to rubbing his shoulder in a warm, encouraging rhythm. But Peter can’t help but ask anyway.

“You’re okay, yeah?”

“Yeah.” A wry pause. “I mean, you could give me a hand here—"

Peter barely swallows a laugh, wrapping his hand around Paul’s dick, trying to time each thrust with the pump of his hand. The pace is inconsistent despite his best efforts, but Paul doesn’t seem to mind, cock already throbbing, precum long since dripping from the tip.

After all the desperation from earlier, it doesn’t take much for either of them. Peter’s breathing gets harder and harder, curses and groans bleeding back into Paul’s name as he feels his orgasm approaching. Paul beats him to it, but barely, spilling into his hand with a sharp cry and a shudder, hand going lax at his shoulder, dilated eyes sliding shut. That’s nearly all it takes for Peter. Sweat’s dripping from his face, his hair, onto Paul and the bedsheets both as he manages another thrust or two before coming inside him.

He practically collapses against Paul in the aftermath, and he doesn’t pull out straight away. Stupidly, he doesn’t really want to. He feels way too—whole, odd as that seems. This hasn’t buried everything. Twenty years of hurt can’t disappear in one afternoon. Not for either of them. But it’s a start. It’s a start. It’s like something’s coming back to him. Like someone’s coming back to him. Like he understands now, that maybe things are finally going to be all right between them, maybe even great, maybe even grand. He could believe that now. He really could. All the more with Paul’s arms clasped tight around him as he murmurs quietly in the afterglow, the rise and fall of his chest against Peter’s the best tempo he’s felt in years.

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley x peter criss #peter criss #paul stanley #lemon

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douxreviews · 6 years ago

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Babylon 5 - Series Review

"Now get the hell out of our galaxy."

J. Michael Straczynski’s Babylon 5 was the last, best hope for a rival sci-fi television franchise to challenge the dominance of Star Trek. It failed. And let’s be glad it did. Last thing we needed was another bloated franchise knocking out a never ending cycle of naff spin-offs. Instead let’s be thankful for what remains to this day as one of the finest sci-fi series ever made. But it did take some time before it became that.

[Warning: This review contains spoilers]

Season One - Signs and Portents

Straczynski envisioned the series as an epic novel for television told in five volumes with each episode being an individual chapter. JMS wanted to tell a universe changing saga of heroes and villains, epic battles and the rise and fall of empires. Something akin to Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, only in space with aliens instead of hobbits and on a limited television budget. Surprisingly, this didn’t turn out to be as impossible as it might have seemed.

The year was 2258. The name of the place was, duh, Babylon 5, a massive five-mile long space station built by humans after the devastating Earth/Minbari war -- a place where aliens could meet to talk out their differences. Straczynski presented us with a future that was a far cry from the optimistic utopia of Gene Roddenberry. Crime, poverty, corruption and prejudice still existed. The various races were constantly at each other’s throats. Many of the alien races felt genuinely extraterrestrial, not just a load of humanoids with bumpy foreheads and pointed ears, although the station did have its fair share of those.

B5 first aired in 1993 with the (not very good) feature length pilot ‘The Gathering’. A year later the first season began airing with ‘Midnight on the Firing Line’ on the now defunct PTEN network, the show’s home for its first four seasons. In truth the first season is not the series’ strongest. No doubt in an effort to not alienate a potential audience, the season is driven more by predominantly naff standalone episodes, than the show’s signature story arcs. These standalone tales were often just sub-Trek nonsense that did little to help B5 to stand out from its rivals. Nevertheless there was still some good to be found in amongst the crap. After all, as rubbish as ‘Mind War’ was, it still gave us Walter Koenig as that slippery Psi Cop Bester (still B5’s finest villain).

In the second half Straczynski gradually started to move away from alien of the week tripe like ‘TKO’, ‘Believers’ and ‘Infection’ and began to lay the foundations for the awesomeness that was to come in episodes like ‘And the Sky Full of Stars’, ‘Signs and Portents’ (the introduction of Mr Morden and the Shadows), the two-parter ‘A Voice in the Wilderness’ and ‘Babylon Squared’ in which the crew investigate the sudden and mysterious reappearance of the missing Babylon 4 station. The big season finale ‘Chrysalis’ is a veritable congregation of ‘holy shit, did they just do that?’ moments as earth shattering cliff-hanger follows earth shattering cliff-hanger. Sinclair’s final lament “Nothing is the same anymore” couldn’t have been more appropriate.

At this early stage the characters were also something of a mixed bag to be sure. While G’Kar and Londo arrive practically fully formed (despite some rough early make-up effects) the rest of the cast all needed a little more work. Sinclair was too often stiff and po-faced while Ivanova had yet to develop something resembling a sense of humour. And I can’t be the only one who thought that Jerry Doyle looked like the product of a failed attempt to clone Bruce Willis?

The first season was certainly a patchy start for Babylon 5. Much of it hasn’t dated well. While they were groundbreaking and innovative at the time, much of the CGI effects now look rather primitive but still manage to stand up a lot better than most of the shows from the time (Space: Above and Beyond for example). The costumes and alien make up are all a little rough. And the dialogue constantly veers between clunky and cheesy. But the series potential was still there for all to see. By the second season the show would improve by leaps and bounds, culminating in some of the finest TV drama of the last 25 years.

Season Two - The Coming of Shadows

It was a year of change in season two of Babylon 5.

Due to illness, Michael O’Hare amicably agreed with creator J. Michael Straczynski to depart from the show. He was replaced by Bruce Boxleitner as the new station commander, Captain John J. Sheridan. The former Tron fitted in quite well on B5 and after a few episodes you’d easily be forgiven for thinking he’d been there the whole time.

The first episode ‘Point of Departure’ serves to introduce and establish Sheridan as the new station commander and show how he handles a crisis. It’s not until episode two ‘Revelations’ that JMS got around to resolving all the cliff-hangers from the previous season. Delenn came out of her cocoon with L'Oreal hair (because she’s worth it) and instantly caught Sheridan’s eye. Garibaldi woke from his coma to expose the man who shot him in the back. And G’Kar returned to the station with grave warnings about the darkness to come (that no one would listen to until it was too late).

Season two has the look and feel of a show more assured of its self, more confident in what it can accomplish. This was the year Babylon 5 stopped looking like just another Star Trek clone and became a small screen sci-fi epic to be reckoned with. There were still a number of rubbish standalone episodes such as ‘The Long Dark’ and ‘GROPOS’ to put up with, but they weren’t as bad as they had been in the first season. Besides, when you have episodes as good as the Hugo Award winning ‘The Coming of Shadows’, ‘In the Shadow of Z’ha’dum’ and ‘The Long Twilight Struggle’ what are a few duff ones here and there?

Walter Koenig returned as Bester in ‘A Race Through Dark Places’ and continued to make us forget he was ever Chekov. ‘And Now For a Word’ looked at life on the station from the perspective of a news program. Later in the season Lyta Alexander, not seen since the original pilot, would return in ‘Divided Loyalties’ to expose a sleeper agent on the station that had devastating consequences for Ivanova. And ‘Comes the Inquisitor’ sees the Vorlons test Delenn with the help of Jack the Ripper (no, seriously).

With the addition of Boxleitner the main cast was considerably stronger this season, albeit there were still a few redundant characters that needed to be gotten rid off such as Lt. Keffer, a hotshot fighter pilot character the network insisted that Straczynski add to the line up. But JMS was not one to let even an unwanted character go to waste and used Keffer’s fate to further along the Shadow War arc. The same could not be said for G’Kar’s aid, Na’Toth, who just sort’ve vanished after two episodes without anyone, her boss included, noticing.

It’s no small thing to say that Andreas Katsulas and Peter Jurasik were the series' best actors and this season they took their performances to another level. For most of the first season Londo was nothing more than the comic relief, but this season Londo’s story went in a much darker direction as he grew closer and closer to Mr. Morden and his ‘associates’. Similarly as Londo fell further into darkness G’Kar began his long and painful journey towards redemption and spiritual enlightenment.

The season finale ‘The Fall of Night’ managed to end the season on a suitably downbeat note, but lacked the universe shacking impact of ‘Chrysalis’. While the future looked bleak for the characters the show’s future looked ever brighter. With the flaws and weakness of the first season overcome Babylon 5 would continue from this point to go from strength to strength.

Season Three - Point of No Return

In my humble little opinion season three of Babylon 5 is one of the greatest seasons of television in the entire history of the medium. This was the absolute peak of Straczynski’s small screen space opera. Admittedly, it’s not 100% perfect. It was at this point that Straczynski started writing every single episode himself (an impressive achievement to be sure) so inevitable dreck like ‘Grey 17 is Missing’ gets sandwiched in between all the great stuff. And we were pretty much spoilt for choice with great stuff this season. After two years worth of build up this was the season where things finally started to pay off.

The season started quietly enough with a group of mostly standalone tales of varying quality and significance. But by the time we got to ‘Messages from Earth’ the fan was well and truly hit and hit hard. The entire status quo of the series was suddenly turned upside down and there would be no going back. Straczynski didn’t so much as jettison the reset button as completely obliterate it. ‘Point of No Return’ saw the Earth Alliance become a fascist dictatorship under President Clark forcing the crew of Babylon 5 to break away into an independent state. This all lead to the epic ‘Severed Dreams’ (another Hugo winner) in which our heroes fought to defend the station from Clark’s forces. From now on Sheridan and company were cut off from home on their own (and got some nifty new uniforms to boot).

The season settled down for a bit after that until the Shadow war finally kicked off in full. ‘Interludes and Examinations’ sees Kosh make a devastating sacrifice on Sheridan’s behalf. The two-parter ‘War Without End’ saw the return of Sinclair and finally revealed the true story behind the disappearance of Babylon 4. After the big battles of ‘Shadow Dancing’ everything comes to a head in the season finale as Sheridan goes with his not-so-dead wife, Anna, back to Z’ha’dum. They should really use this episode in media studies classes as an example of how to write a truly great season finale. It’s simply a breathtaking 45 minutes of television that (again, IMHO) no one has yet to come close to equalling or surpassing.

With so many big events jostling for screen time JMS wisely doesn’t let the characterisation get lost in amongst the explosions. Sheridan and Delenn kept making gooey eyes at each other. Ranger Marcus Cole arrived on the station and wasted no time hitting on Ivanova. G’Kar finally found inner peace and a new purpose in life. Franklin struggled with drug addiction and resigned. And Londo’s decent into darkness continued despite his best efforts to escape his destiny.

Season three was the middle chapter of Babylon 5 and the point in which it got seriously worse for our heroes before it could eventually get any better. Creatively the show was riding on a high. From the acting to the special effects everything was at its absolute best. Sadly the show would never be this good again. Outside factors would eventually derail Straczynski’s carefully constructed five-year-plan. But season three still stands as a shinning beacon of everything that was, and still is, great about Babylon 5.

Season Four - No Surrender, No Retreat

So much for best laid plans, eh?

When he first conceived of Babylon 5, J. Michael Straczynski had a definitive five year plan for the series. By the fourth season that plan was in serious danger of falling apart. The Prime Time Entertainment Network, the series’ home from day one, was not long for this world and as such the future of the series was uncertain. Fearing that his show would be cancelled before he could conclude the story, Straczynski went in to emergency damage control and started wrapping up the all major storylines far earlier than he’d initially planned. As a result season four is the most densely packed season of the show’s entire run, as barely a single episode is wasted in Straczynski’s mad rush to bring his story to what seemed at the time to be a premature end.

After nearly three years of planning and build up, the Shadow War, the very driving force of the entire series, was over in the space of just six episodes. The whole thing raced to an underwhelming conclusion that basically amounted to nothing more than Sheridan telling the Shadows and Vorlons off for being naughty and sending them to their rooms without any supper for the rest of eternity. Babylon 5 was the first notable sci-fi series to start using extensive story arcs (something that’s practically the norm nowadays) but it was also the first to bring its story arcs to a disappointing resolution (something else that's practically the norm nowadays).

With that major arc out of the way Straczynski got to work setting up the Drakh threat, built up the growing conflict between Sheridan and Garibaldi, dashed through a Minbari civil war in record speed before finally kicking off the war against President Clark’s fascist government in ‘No Surrender, No Retreat’. The conclusion of the Shadow arc might’ve been a letdown but the Earth civil war was Babylon 5 at its absolute best. Only problem was that it was over almost as quickly as it had started. Originally the plan was for the Earth conflict to be carried over into the fifth season with the fourth season ending with Garibaldi’s betrayal and Sheridan’s capture. But with the show’s future in doubt everything was wrapped up with ‘Endgame’ and ‘Raising Star’. Straczynski was all ready to end the series then and there, but when cable network TNT agreed at the last minute to finance a full fifth season the final episode 'Sleeping in Light' was pushed back a year and a new season finale was quickly shot on the cheap.

Despite it's ups and downs season four is still a strong season. Although there are no Hugo winners, there are still several standout episodes, most notably Sheridan’s brutal interrogation in 'Intersections in Real Time'. The acting was excellent across the board this season, but if there’s a single standout star without a doubt it’s Jerry Doyle. Straczynski sent Garibaldi to hell and back this season and Doyle rose to the challenge with gusto. Sadly this would be the final season for Susan Ivanova as a contract dispute would prevent Claudia Christian returning for the fifth season. With no time to shoot a proper goodbye scene her departure is clumsily handled in voiceover, a disappointing exit for one of science fiction's finest heroines.

Season Five - The Wheel of Fire

The last minute renewal for Babylon 5 was something of a mixed blessing. On one hand it meant that the show would continue and J. Michael Straczynski would now be able to complete his much talked about five-year-plan. But since Straczynski had wrapped up almost every single significant plot thread during the previous season he was now stumped about what to do next. Sure, he had a lot of great stuff with Londo planned, but that didn’t get going until towards the end of the season. So what the hell was he going to do until then?

Straczynski had twenty-one episodes to fill up and barely enough story material to cover a quarter of the season. Rather than relinquish some creative control by bringing in a load of new writers and some fresh ideas, Straczynski continued to write virtually every single episode himself even though it was clear by this point that he’d reached his burnout stage. Granted, the only time he did allow someone else to write an episode it resulted in Neil Gaiman’s dreary ‘Day of the Dead’ but that's still no excuse for not sharing your toys, Joe. Actually, in many ways the series came a full circle with season five as Babylon 5 went back to the sort standalone filler dreck everyone thought we’d seen the last of in season one. Worst offender being the abysmal Tom Stoppard homage ‘A View from the Galley’ which looks at an attack on the station from the perspective of two repair workers who sadly, unlike Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, don’t end up dead at the end.

The lack of decent episodes wasn't the show’s only problem this season, as its previously strong characterization seemed to have vanished entirely. They might’ve looked the same, they might’ve even sounded the same, but these were not the same characters we’d been following faithfully over the last four years. Despite now being President of the Interstellar Alliance (with all the power and influence of a UN Secretary-General) Sheridan still stomps around the station like he owns the place becoming the type of character you’d rather punch in the face than follow into the jaws of hell. Delenn, meanwhile, has been relegated to the prestigious role of ‘her indoors’. Elsewhere, Garibaldi roamed aimlessly around the station in a futile search for a decent plot line, while Londo and G’Kar spend most of the season working on perfecting their buddy comedy routine. And with Claudia Christian gone (but sure as hell not forgotten) Tracy Scoggins was brought in to replace Ivanova as Captain Elizabeth Lockley, the station’s new commander and Sheridan’s ex-wife (huh?). Try as she might, it is difficult to take Scoggins seriously as a tough military leader.

Now that the Shadows were gone and President Clark had been overthrown there were no more enemies to fight and our heroes were all getting ready to live happily ever after. As a result virtually nothing happened for the majority of the season. The only significant event in the first half was a limp rebellion by Gap model telepaths lead by Byron, a walking personality black hole. The only upside to this arc was more focus on Patricia Tallman's underused Lyta Alexander and the always welcome return of Bester, who even gets his own episode this season, the disappointingly bland ‘The Corp Is Mother, The Corp is Father’. Once all the dull telepath malarkey is done with the season finally starts to pick up some much needed steam as the Interstellar Alliance goes to war with the Centauri. But even this conflict fails to provide the same kind of high drama and epic battles the show used to give us. Only the tragic conclusion of Londo’s story in ‘The Fall of Centauri Prime’ makes any kind of emotional impact.

The remaining episodes are all used for some last minute wrap up and a shed load of teary goodbye scenes to rival anything Peter Jackson could come up with. After everyone has gone their separate way Straczynski closes the book with ‘Sleeping in Light’ an elegant and beautiful epilogue to the series and one of the best series finales of all time. Although it did manage to end on a high note (notably with an episode left over from the previous year) overall season five is a disappointing dud.

Despite this less than grand farewell, Babylon 5 still remains one of the greatest sci-fi series ever produced. Admittedly it was something of a flawed masterpiece thanks to the occasional wooden acting, clunky dialogue, dodgy standalone episodes, cheap sets and a tendency to get lost up its own mythology. But with this show Straczynski created something truly unique, an epic science fiction novel for television with a definitive beginning, middle and end. Yeah, the beginning was a bit uneven and the end part didn’t work out as planned, but that middle section, boy, was that good.

Mark Greig has been writing for Doux Reviews since 2011.

#Babylon 5 #B5 #John Sheridan #Delenn #Susan Ivanova #Michael Garibaldi #Londo Mollari #G'Kar #Babylon 5 Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews #something from the archive

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cinenthusiast · 6 years ago

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WARNING: The following contains heavy semantics. This is the equivalent of letterboxd users breaking down their dumb rating systems. OK, not as bad, but still! You have been warned!

I’m starting a new (and final) iteration of something I’ve done my whole life. A single list of my 50 Favorite Actors, covering the full scope of era and gender. I’ll make a new one from scratch each year as a kind of record. 50 doesn’t leave too much room for sudden or drastic evolution, but the long game is what I’m playing at.

All of my old lists (of any kind) used to be ranked. Frankly, fuck that. I’m all for ranking within narrow frameworks (Top Ten By Year, etc) but general lists like favorite actors and movies? Why do it? Numbers make the whole thing an arbitrary assessment, isolating the actors and films into a misguided hierarchy that doesn’t add any insight or clarity. Lists and rankings are such an oversaturated aspect of culture content as it is, and I’d like to avoid this feeling like just another ranking. The collective group is the thing, the totality of taste, interest, and meaning. Keeping this a singular entity (with one or two caveats) preserves this as a personal journal entry of sorts, a snapshot and not the end-all be-all. It’s a way of capturing my taste in film and the people in it. I’ve put a star next to my ten favorites, and I’ve got a separate long list of people I considered but ultimately didn’t add, and that’s the extent of it.

Growing up, I made favorite actor lists obsessively. When I was around six or seven I would play ‘School’. I was the teacher. My students? The likes of Tony Danza, Christopher Lloyd, Danny DeVito, and John Travolta. I had pages and pages of any actor whose name I knew (the entire casts of Angels in the Outfield and Addams Family Values were represented). I took very careful attendance to make sure everyone was present, calling out each name and imagining that yes, they were there. Each actor received a little check in their row of squares (I made sure I had the checkered graph paper to keep everything orderly and precise).

age 11

all of these were made at age 11

Then there were the dark days, the days when tween Katie made lists like Top Ten ‘Cutie-Patootie’ Actors (a reference to the Rosie O’Donnell Show, yes, the Rosie O’Donnell Show, seen above). As you can see, the kid from Dennis the Menace topped that one. I also had my constantly revised Top Ten Favorite Actors & Actresses. Five actors from the lists pictured above are also on this current one: Nicole Kidman, Jim Carrey, Winona Ryder, John Travolta, and Michelle Pfeiffer. They were major icons for me then, and they remain so now, 20 years after the fact. They are forever favorites.

the four quadrants, from 2006 (age 18)

What followed were continuously updated versions of this, covering half my lifetime: Top Blank (at varying points it was 20, 30, and 50) Modern Actors, Modern Actresses, Classic Actors, and Classic Actresses (‘Classic’ accounted for the Hollywood studio era). They were always divided into those four quadrants. I can timestamp the years by who was on them. Simon Pegg at the top? Must be 2008. Katee Sackhoff near the top? I must have been watching “Battlestar Galactica” then. You can find the 2012 versions on this site: here and here.

These categories created considerable grey area, swaths of actors that never really fit comfortably in their group. Those who either featured in films from both eras (Jack Lemmon) or were technically of the ‘Modern’ era but with careers that didn’t really transition into the current (Faye Dunaway). And those ‘Modern’ lists were always much more about the now. I never made room for these actors who qualified as ‘Modern’ but who could be pinpointed to the past. I wanted to feature the up-and-coming, people whose careers I was excited about now! Filmographies I could follow along with as they progressed.

This factor, which meant so much to me then, means nothing re: this new list. For one, I don’t follow current stuff to the degree I used to. 21st century film is less interesting to me (current TV far less so). But I’m really fond of a lot of actors working today, from relative newcomers to tried-and-true character actors to cemented A-listers. The group there was no room for, not by a long shot, were the relative newcomers. I’m an easy lay when it comes to loving actors. But with over a century of performers to choose from, it doesn’t leave much room for the young “oooh I love him/her/them, I can’t wait to see what they do next” ones.

But for the record, the fresher (2010 to present) faces that I’m most invested in are Adam Driver, Elizabeth Debicki, Tom Hardy, Lakeith Stanfield, Kristen Stewart, Jesse Plemons, Nicholas Hoult, and Jonah Hill (whose career trajectory I’m endlessly intrigued by, a man funnier than most of his peers, with the unstable depths of a Chris Penn, whose hyper-sensitivity about being taken seriously and joining the ranks of the prestigious show up on the screen).

The old lists, especially the 50-each ones that totaled to 200 actors, were actually more challenging than this list. Because with so much room, you’re fooled into thinking everyone can be represented. But they can’t; even those lists fill up quick. And now, with just 50 total, it gets down to essentials. There are the favorites, and then the ones who matter most. Oh, I love them? Cool, next! Oh, I love them a lot? Cool, next! Omgtheyaresoamazing? Cool. Next!

There are so many actors whose performances I consistently love or enjoy, that I always look forward to seeing and am often moved by. But there’s a difference between actors who frequently deliver great work, and actors who make something inherently more just by being there, that make me sit up in my seat because what they give either draws out extra engagement from me or they are so distinctive a presence that the fabric of the film/show is thereby altered. But none of this exists without the secret ingredient: that chemical thing that just draws you to one person’s talent and onscreen life more than another.

The factors are endless. Above is my next tier of favorites, the ones that I didn’t go with but thought about and in some cases agonized (yes, agonized) over whether to include or not.

What do you do when a specific stretch of someone’s work means more to you than most people’s entire careers? Most don’t make it (Patty Duke, Diane Lane, Juliette Lewis, Marlon Brando, etc) But a few do: pre-Dick Tracy Warren Beatty, Eric Roberts in the 1980’s, and Sandy Dennis in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s.

What do you do with the actors who are still alive but not working regularly, at all, or at the same caliber they used to? Most don’t make it (Nancy Allen, Tim Curry, Kathleen Turner, Fairuza Balk, Sheryl Lee, etc). But a few do: Jim Carrey, Shelley Duvall, Theresa Russell (a spot that could have been occupied by many that mean just as much to me, but I went with Theresa this time because it felt right), Eric Roberts, and John Travolta.

What do you do with the actors who mean a lot to you but whose careers were so brief that it’s hard to justify adding them over others? Unfortunately, almost all of those actors didn’t make it (Linda Manz, Paula Sheppard, Laird Cregar, Zoe Lund, James Dean, Pamela Franklin, etc). One does: Louise Brooks.

What do you do about the actors you love watching more than most but whose work you aren’t familiar enough with yet? None of them make it (Natasha Lyonne, Yaphet Kotto, Silvana Mangano, Helmut Berger, Dagmar Lassander, Tuesday Weld, etc). There are plenty of films from the 50 I’ve yet to see, but I’ve at least seen enough.

Then there are all the others, the really tough ones. I think about James Gandolfini more and more as the years go by. Harvey Keitel’s performances resonate a lot more as I get older (those defiant eyes, I can often feel him). I can’t believe I didn’t make room for Christina Ricci. Julia Louis-Dreyfus is the defining comedienne of my lifetime. There is only one Carol Kane, Donald Sutherland, Nicolas Cage, Joan Cusack, Parker Posey, Lily Tomlin, Crispin Glover. I get distinct pleasures from watching each of them. Some of my favorite immortals are Marlene Dietrich, Alain Delon, Judy Garland, Bette Davis, Buster Keaton, Cate Blanchett. I’m pretty sure I talk about Jude Law all the time. I will, and have, watched Jean-Claude Van Damme in anything I can find. In recent months I’ve rewatched a lot of key Samuel L. Jackson performances (Jackie Brown, Pulp Fiction, Black Snake Moan, Django Unchained), and was newly reminded that he is one of our most compelling living actors. His pervasive and phoned-in presence in every imaginable franchise had led me to forget that. I’ve been hooked on Gene Wilder, Charles Laughton, Eva Green, Cillian Murphy, and still am. It goes on and on and on.

But this is the challenge of it, and the fun of it. My 50 favorites capture my fascination with stardom and long-range careers with eras & reinventions (ex. Crawford, Cruise, Fonda, Monroe, DiCaprio, Farrell, Taylor), physicality (ex. Chan, Ball, Phoenix, Reeves, Olyphant) & commanding physical presence (ex. Reed, Kidman, De Niro, Mitchum), blue moon charisma (ex. Pfeiffer, Russell, Walbrook, Cagney, Reed, Nicholson), the ones I feel a deep connection to (all of them but especially Carrey, Brooks, & Hoffman) & offbeat god-tier character actors (Dennis, Dourif, Roberts, Black, Duvall) I would take a bullet for.

I start to realize some of the people that aren’t even on this second list: Tilda Swinton, Kate Winslet, Robin Williams, Ingrid Bergman, Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart, Gloria Grahame, Katharine Hepburn, Michael Shannon, Al Pacino, Meryl Streep, Jeanne Moreau, Saorsie Ronan, Brad Pitt, Gena Rowlands, Dirk Bogarde, James Mason, Jeff Bridges, Ethan Hawke, Jeff Goldblum, Steve Buscemi, Julianne Moore, Catherine O’Hara, Catherine Deneuve, Juliette Binoche, Charlize Theron, Robert Redford, Julie Christie, Michael C. Hall, Michael Caine, Malcolm McDowell, John Hurt, Paul Newman, Anjelica Huston, Sigourney Weaver (every time I watch her in something I think about how much I love her. Her work in Alien 3 means a lot to me), Elliot Gould, etc etc etc. Hell, Peter Mullan is the only person on either list who appears in any Harry Potter film, and that franchise employed basically every British actor you can think of. Most of these actors have been on other lists in the past. Some you’d always be guaranteed to find there (Binoche, Deneuve, etc). As I type this I am realize I forgot Michael Stuhlbarg and John Hawkes in that second group. At the end of the day it just becomes about knowing who there was never any question about, and going with your gut on the rest.

But these 50 (ok, 52, I cheated, the truth is out!), the ones I ultimately chose, are the actors whose work collectively means more than the rest, my ultimate favorites: the ones I can lose myself in, and then find myself in. Who are yours?

1st Annual 50 Favorite Actors list WARNING: The following contains heavy semantics. This is the equivalent of letterboxd users breaking down their dumb rating systems.

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