#holly would be possible at my power level by now

[frostbite-the-bat]

welp ! thats one thing done! welp ! time to entertain myself once more .... ! funnay rain world time ! unless someboday wants to bug me then Sureio Do So (I WAUNNA BE TALKGLED TO)

[fantasyfangirling4ever]

So apparently Holly Black said that in The Prisoner's Throne Jude will be dealing with a political problem. Here are my theories on what that the problem is (obviously SPOILERS):

Suren herself. She has claimed the citadel and her role as Queen of the Court of Teeth, whose disbandment was one of Jude's first decrees as Queen. Suren has unchecked magic and her claim to power is treason. And critically Suren has Oak, Jude's brother and heir, held captive and under her control with the bridle. No Bueno. I know people think this conflict will be over quickly and our gals will team up to take on the world. I'd love that but there isn't really another clear conflict left with Lady Nore dusted. However, getting the Elfhame Vs Court of Teeth conflict done early and moving onto something bigger wouldn't be the most surprising twist Black has ever written so sure, but the layers of this conflict make it a real doozy. Oak is bridled and he has a legitimate claim to the throne. Suren could order him to marry her, challenge Jude and Cardan for the throne, and make her Queen of Elfhame- and this seems to be the direction the duology is going in since as Mellith (??) technically Suren has more claim to the throne than any Greenbriars according to the story we learned in TSH?? I know that everything we know about Suren as a character contradicts this theory (she would never order someone to marry her or use the bridle against Oak long-term becuase of her history with it, she doesn't seem to want power in fact she seems to actively not want it) but her character went on the flippity flop at the end of TSH and this strategic move is possible in the plot and it makes sense for her Queen Suren era inspired by Oak's betrayal. And since Jude is a mortal ruling Elfhame, I can see a lot of the folk getting involved. I'm not saying the book will end that way, it would be weird for Holly Black to go back to Elfhame just to undo everything she did in tfota, but she could threaten to. It is a problem. Also I think Oak wants to marry Suren so I'm not sure how much of a fight the little simp would put up.

Madoc. Daddy didn't take his exile well and now he's back. With an army. The same army that betrayed Jude- three times now. First they fought beside Madoc. Second they didn't forsake him and swear loyalty to her. And third, instead of undoing their curse by the means given to them by Jude (being fed for a year) in the decade since QoN, they decided to join the Court of Teeth and fight against her again for Lady Nore. And now they return as a 'gift' with the very traitor they first left with. What is she supposed to do with them? Also along for the walk of shame back to the brugh is Hyacinth, the lover of Tiernan, Jude's friend and loyal soldier, who tried to KILL HER HUSBAND and was mercifully not killed only for Oak to cheat-undo his curse and use him to go behind Jude's back to rescue Madoc. Hyacinth really took 'Be Gé, Do Crime' to another level. This merry band of traitors and their bad tidings are a political nightmare for Jude.

This Madoc Mess ties into Suren as well. Jude's rulings on the Court of Teeth and Madoc's army were her first ones as an official monarch, she made them in front of the whole kingdom and they ended the war which her family (Madoc) started and which marked her uneasy rise to the throne. And now both of those decrees have been undone in The Stolen Heir; Madoc is back with his betraying army knocking on her door and The Court of Teeth is re-established with more power than ever. Her love for her father and her understanding of/ sympathy for Suren is in direct opposition to her authority as queen. She cannot just let Madoc and Suren off but their role in the books and the fact that this is only a duology means that it is unlikely that she will declare war on Suren or execute Madoc. I'd say those are a few pretty big political problems for youse.

Then we have the succession. I know this is a point of contention among readers but Holly Black has explicitly said that Jude and Cardan's (hypothetical?) children being a threat to Oak's claim to the throne is an issue in these books and it's already been brought up in TSH. Apparently a lot of people hate the idea of Jude and Cardan having a child?? I guess I'll make another post about that but basically it would make sense plot and character wise for a Jude pregnancy to be a conflict in The Prisoner's Throne. It would give an immediacy to the issue of Oak's responsibilities as heir- we know it's not a conflict for him: he doesn't want the throne end of, but neither did Cardan. Also he starts the upcoming book as a prisoner. And it's called...The Prisoner's Throne...Anyway, it seems Jude and Cardan still want Oak to inherit the crown and it would be beneficial to Suren if he did, it is a possible resolution to the conflict set up at the end of The Stolen Heir. Jude's decree to disband the Court of Teeth wouldn't matter if she retired and Oak and Suren ruled together and a threat to that claim in the form of Jurdan baby could add more complexity to the plot and bring up the themes of family and court intrigue etc.

Nicassia and the sea. Everyone and their mother has complicated feelings about Nicassia but at the end of tfota trilogy the Undersea was somewhat uneasily allied with Elfhame through The Wicked King treaty and in fact Nicassia was the ambassador of the Undersea in Elfhame and even chose to fight with Jude when she technically didn't have too, this decision might have been an attempt at a redemption arc for her (she still tortured my girl so personally...no) which could be used as a stepping point to further explore her character. But I digress, whether or not Nicassia and Jude get along now, the threat to her mother's reign and her claim to the succession that we learned about in TSH is a direct threat to Elfhame- and Jude and Cardan.

And so, with the hard won ceasefire from the Sea now teetering, Madoc skipping back to his daughter with a falcon army, and Elfhame's heir locked in Queen Suren's basement it's safe to say that Ms. Black has a variety of political problems for Jude from which to chose. It seems like waaay too much to deal with in one more book so I can't wait to read the action and intrigue and see where Holly goes next. Holly said this duology will be followed by MORE THE FOLK OF THE AIR BOOKS from a different character's perspective and that we would know at the end of the duology what the conflict would be and who that character would be so I think one of these outlined problems will probably outlast the duology and be addressed in FUTURE BOOKS. I think it's probably the Undersea right? Books from Nicassia's point of view as she fights for her throne would be interesting... Though from a selfish point of view I would like to stay on land. But come on people, I feel like as a fandom we aren't collectively freaking out about the fact that THERE IS EVEN MORE TFOTA ON THE WAY!!!!!

[paladinbaby]

1-12 for the dnd character asks for nettle :) !!

1 - why did they choose their class(es)? their subclass(es)?

nettle is 6 levels of alchemist artificer and one of wild magic sorcerer. she did not choose wild magic and it stresses her out so so bad in fact. i think she loves being an alchemist but it’s something she came into mostly by accident while trying out different things she read about in the library.

2 - before they met their party, what was their main goal?

she had just finished her masters so her main goal was like,,, paying rent and keeping her coffee shop job that she hated

3 - what is their goal right now?

survival <33 not even necessarily her own. i don’t think she would be able to cope if she walked away from a situation another member of the party didn’t so she needs to know she’s done every possible thing she can for them

4 - if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

hmmm hollis has v kindly said when she eventually gets 3rd level spells he will let me take life transference which is not an artificer spell. of a level she can currently cast bless or warding bond maybe. if bo ends up casting inflict wounds i think she will be jealous of it

5 - do they follow a higher power? what are their thoughts on divinity?

i don’t think nettle has ever really thought about god until lensa arrived in her dreams and she got more magic and stress from it. i think before she was v much like oh well even if the divine is real i have no indication it’s affecting my life except now it very much is and she finds that so much worse. she is developing a soft spot for lensa specifically tho

6 - which party member do they relate to the most?

probably kai

7 - which party member do they understand the least?

nox is simply so much more well adjusted than she is

8 - what are three songs that suit them?

the waves bastille, growing sideways noah kahan, last hope paramore

(note the waves is one of the original songs on her playlist bc of the line oh what would your mother say and in light of last session has really been getting to me)

9 - do they care about their appearance? how much effort do they put into presentation?

she cares about her appearance in an autistic way. like she wants to look and be dressed in a very specific manner and that’s less to do with how people perceive her and more to do with what she can stand to have on her body. she wears almost exclusively dresses with short or no sleeves made from natural fibres/ woven fabrics. she has worn trousers maybe three times in the past five years of her life

10 -how often do they lie? what situations cause them to be dishonest?

nettle i think avoids out and out lying as much as she can not for any ethical reason but because she is bad at it. that being said her month in the library she has got really used to talking around things she doesn’t want people to know/ ask her about

11 - what skills are they proficient in? why?

from worst to best deception, insight, arcana , history, investigation, nature. she has +8 in her int based skills bc she is a funky little nerd who never should have been let out from writing papers and not talking to people. she has high insight but i think every insight roll I have made has been bad so i think it’s this balance of she doesn’t have good people skills but she’s spent a lot of time people watching. deception is +2 because proficiency cancels out her negative charisma modifier. she is fey and a sorcerer so theoretically should be far trickier/ more deceptive than i think she is capable of being

12 - have they ever been in love?

no <33

[lunar-insanity]

6! we have 6! One left and then I can move on to not do this style ever again unless it’s with my OCs XDD

In comes 14-Year old Compton Boole! A bit of a troubled teen but he’s got a good support group going! He’ll be fine :3 

Trivia:

You could say that Compton is a very good listener. Compton would tell you that he would very much like NOT to be. He specializes in Zoolepathy, being able to understand animals better than people most of the time. He is also a natural telepath, on the same level as Lucy’s Telepathy, where they both just end up hearing people’s thoughts without trying. 

The problem is he is particularly sensitive to them, and has a hard time shutting the voices out. He managed to figure out that tinfoil in a hat helped, but Otto made one better after a couple trials and errors.

The other thing he specializes in, is Fragokinesis. Or, explosions. He doesn’t like that he can do this. At all. He’s tried ignoring this power and hoping it goes away but it just didn’t. With it running in the family, his father hoped that by having Compton closer to his grandma, she could possibly help temper it.

Where he got that idea, Compton doesn’t know.

The good part about this is he got to meet new friends who didn’t judge him at all, even if one was a bit more prickly than he imagined. And then he got to meet Cassie and things started coming together better.

So now the Motherlobe has two gossip pals. Keeping secrets has never been harder.

———————————————————————————————————-

Nearly done nearly done nearly done! Hoooo school work got loaded for a while there. We just got Cassie next and then I can finally start on the adults!

Other bits, Compton hasn’t had a stable mentor, more like jumping around when one was rather ill-suited for him. Coach Oleander was both a last attempt (before Hollis would give up and just mentor him herself, despite the strain of two interns) and a way to have someone keep an eye on the Coach.

I kinda want it so Coach does actually help Compton get his Fragokinesis under control better somehow. He can do it. I believe in him.

Also I chose Fragokinesis from the kinesis list on Superhero wiki cause Blasto is somethin different entirely.

He also owns like... several different vests like that. Boi likes vests.

SEE YOU ALL FOR CASSIE BAIIII

[fae-fucker]

Review: An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson

Every enchantment has a price. With a flick of her paintbrush, Isobel creates stunning portraits for a dangerous set of clients: the fair folk. These immortal creatures cannot bake bread or put a pen to paper without crumbling to dust. They crave human Craft with a terrible thirst, and they trade valuable enchantments for Isobel’s paintings. But when she receives her first royal patron—Rook, the autumn prince—Isobel makes a deadly mistake. She paints mortal sorrow in his eyes, a weakness that could cost him his throne, and even his life. Furious, Rook spirits Isobel away to his kingdom to stand trial for her crime. But something is seriously amiss in his world, and they are attacked from every side. With Isobel and Rook depending upon each other for survival, their alliance blossoms into trust, perhaps even love . . . a forbidden emotion that would violate the fair folks’ ruthless laws, rendering both their lives forfeit. What force could Isobel's paintings conjure that is powerful enough to defy the ancient malice of the fairy courts? Isobel and Rook journey along a knife-edge in a lush world where beauty masks corruption and the cost of survival might be more frightening than death itself. 

*deep sigh*

So, this has been recommended to me from what feels like the dawn of time itself. When people find out I hate SJM’s “writing”, this is one of the books that pops up as a “good” alternative for fae romance, along with The Cruel Prince by Holly Black.

I filed this one away to read and was more eager to get to it than TCP, mainly because I don’t like Holly Black’s writing and thought I’d give this one a chance first.

And now, I’ve read it. And yeah, it is better than anything SJM has ever shat out of her hellscape of a brain. But that’s like saying a dry, homemade ham sandwich is better than the remains of a cum-stained hotdog you found in a ditch next to a pile of dog shit and a used condom.

But all of you who recommended this to me? You owe me money.

This entire review will have spoilers because I can’t talk about this book without spoiling it, since my main problem with it lies in the false advertisement and wasted potential of the whole thing.

First of all, this book is a lie. Or rather, the blurb is a lie. The wonderfully weird and unique setup of a girl painting human sorrow on a fairy’s face and being punished for it? Toss that shit out of your mind. It won’t fucking matter in this book.

Yes, the whole MAIN CONFLICT doesn’t fucking matter. It’s only there as a setup to get Isobel and Rook moving. It never comes back. This is supposed to be a standalone book, mind you. The whole main draw, the thing that’s advertised on the back of the book? Never. Resolved.

Isobel never even reaches the Autumn Court. There is no trial. She never meets Rook’s subjects, who judged the portrait she painted of him and thus somehow threatened his rule. She never sees the true consequences of her actions. We never even find out WHY it’s such a big deal that he’s got human sorrow painted on him or how it was a threat to his rule.

What we get is two thirds of Rook and Isobel bumbling around in a forest, making eyes at each other, and then the last third introduces an entirely different conflict, with different antagonists, and resolves itself in the dumbest way possible, with a really shitty little HEA as an undeserved, flaccid epilogue. 

This book is FUCK-ALL.

Okay, no, that’s not true. This book is wonderfully written on a technical level. I loved the descriptions and the prose itself, it was whimsical and wondrous in a way that felt appropriate for the setting and genre. And the world itself, with its interesting concepts like human Craft, and the mystery around the fairies and their odd rules, and how Whimsy, Isobel’s home town, seems to be affected by the summer court and is locked in perpetual summer? It’s interesting. It’s unique.

And it’s completely fucking wasted, baybeeeee.

Instead of exploring ANY of the things the author sets up, we’re instead stuck with Isobel and Rook, our intrepid wet cardboard box and her formless mannequin of a love interest, who walk around in some forests and have tepid banter and then make out some and then fall in love, I guess.

God, I wanted them both dead at the end. I was cheering for the villain to win just so I could see something interesting happen to these two fuckers. Isobel is seventeen, but acts like Sophie Hatter’s less interesting clone, all sensible and passionless and boring. I can’t really describe Isobel in any other way than “sensible”. That’s all she is. She’s sensible. We’re supposed to believe that she undergoes a change and becomes more daring and passionate, but that’s just told to us while she remains her bland, sensible little self. I wish I could say more but there’s literally nothing else to her. She’s the most sensible 17-year-old that somehow still creams herself over a centuries-old man whom she met a few days ago.

Rook isn’t much better. I don’t know how you screw up writing a fairy prince, that’s like, half the work already done for you in this genre, congrats, but somehow the author manages to do just that. There are many instances where Isobel will complain about how arrogant or insufferable Rook is, because hey, that’s the character archetype, right? A hot, sad manchild whose suffering is pathetic in a fixable way. Except that he’s ... just a dude. Literally just a normal fucking dude. I guess it’s somewhat refreshing that instead of a huge asshole that we’re supposed to find attractive and who’s supposed to be a saint (aka anything SJM ever “wrote”), we’re instead presented with this dude who’s supposed to be a little arrogant and obnoxious but who just is ... a guy. A perfectly normal man. He wasn’t even that vain despite being super hot. Isobel has a moment where she mentions Rook’s childish tantrums all fondly and I’m like ... “Where? Where are they?” I literally could not tell you about a single tantrum this man had. These two are literally generic brand Sophie and Howl, with all their bite and imperfections stripped away but also their fun and quirks. It’s like someone read a single meta meme post on Tumblr about Sophie and Howl and went “ah yes, this is how my leads will be” and then failed every step of the way.

And so we’re supposed to believe that these two fell in such an intense, passionate romance during the few days of trudging through the woods together, that they’re breaking some ancient fairy law just by loving each other? These two? A human girl of seventeen and a fairy prince who’s centuries old who’s been so heartbroken over a previous romance with a human girl that he still keeps a token of her affection, hundreds of years later? He got over her quick, huh. Isobel must’ve really charmed him with her ... lack of a personality.

Yeah, that’s the real plot, by the by. Rook and Isobel fall in love, allegedly, and then all the other fairies want to kill them for it. There are like, two actually interesting characters, who are, of course, wasted entirely. Can I get an F in chat for my gal Aster and my mans Gadfly? RIP in pepperoni. You were the real ones.

The whole thing about Rook inexplicably having human sorrow in his eyes is never expanded upon. Isobel spends the last third of the book painting human emotions on other fairies, and then it’s explicitly her doing it when it’s not there, which seems to affect the older fairies and make them sort of semi-experience those emotions when they see the portraits? But Rook’s human sorrow is clearly there on its own, Isobel even struggles to figure it out at first, and it’s supposed to come from ... his loss of his human not-lover centuries ago? Is that it? We never find out. But then Isobel thinks some shit about how the “Good Law” that prevents humans and fair folk from being together is all about the fairies being jealous of humans and their emotions because they can’t experience them. So how did Rook experience human sorrow for so long? How did he experience love so fast with Isobel, if fairies are so immune to Emotions? It’s never implied that Rook is somehow faking his feelings for Isobel or that they’re a facsimile of her real ones, so fairies are very clearly capable of love and sorrow, but this is never ... explained? Or explored at all? Is he just special? Or is Isobel special for making him feeel this way uwu?

We also see that the fair folk clearly do experience “human” emotion, but I guess they don’t count as such because they’re, what, mean? Selfish? Cruel? Does it only count as human emotion if it’s something Pinterest-appropriate and poetic like love or joy or sadness? Come on, now.

I don’t want everything to fall neatly into perfect, explainable boxes, but this is 1) a standalone book, you can’t afford to have so many unanswered, IMPORTANT questions and 2) THIS IS LITERALLY THE MAIN FUCKING CONFLICT THAT WE’RE SUPPOSED TO RESOLVE.

What the fuck happened here?

Oh and, at the very end, when Isobel comes up with the idea to defeat the big bad that’s properly introduced only a few chapters before his demise, I thought she’d actually use this whole “painting emotions on a fairy’s face and cause them some sort of psychological pain” as a way to defeat him? I thought it’d be a pretty smart solution and a decent way to at least try to tie it all together, even with so many loose ends?

But no. She just uses it as a distraction to stab the guy. He literally just gets sort of cranky that she painted him with a human emotion on his face, and his anger makes him oblivious to the dagger she’s holding behind the canvas that she just stabs him in the heart with. She stabs him with an iron dagger that never before had any significance and was introduced in the chapter before that, instead of using the portraits that’s the main fucking PLOT THREAD of the book that’s LITERALLY IN FRONT OF HER. We even get some buildup about how this is her masterpiece, how she’d never paint anything this good ever again, how much she must struggle with her least favorite method, all this tension at the climax. And then she just makes the guy sorta cranky enough for her to get close and stab him, through the painting because I guess symbolism, with a dagger nobody gave a shit about.

Yeah, she stabs him through the painting. She Assassin’s Creeds him. It would’ve been epic if not for the fact how it’s supposed to be all dramatic how she’s destroying her best work, since it would’ve been so much better if the painting itself is what had killed him or even just paralyzed him so she could calmly stab him as a mercy kill at the end. “What force could Isobel's paintings conjure that is powerful enough to defy the ancient malice of the fairy courts?” asks the blurb. Well, we never find out. In the end, her paintings don’t even matter. Hell, she even cuts the best one she ever made, and her big defining act of defiance toward the fairy courts have fuck-all to do with her paintings.

The whole book is basically this. So much brilliance and so many cool concepts and setups that are RIGHT THERE, in the previous chapter, in the next line, in the prose and the atmosphere, that then go completely ignored by the narrative in favor of really tepid romance between two extremely boring and underdeveloped leads and their sloppy spaghetti of a plot held together by farts and wishes.

It could’ve been amazing. It could’ve been something very special and genuinely magical and whimsical. But all of it is wasted, flushed down the toilet. It’s like the author gave up at the end.

I don’t know if it’s because it’s YA and I just don’t enjoy it as much anymore, but I’ve read better YA and it shouldn’t be an excuse.

Screw this book. Even though it’s more technically competent than the Elven Alliance stuff I’ve been reading lately, the false advertising and wasted potential made me angry and made the reading experience fully negative instead of just generic and mediocre.

If y’all want a sensible heroine and a manchild hero in a whimsical fairytale world, just read Howl’s Moving Castle. You’ll have a much better time.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 11 March 1836

8 ½

11 40

no kiss rainy night and morning and F38 ½° now at 9 ¼ Mr. Husband waiting for me - explained about the rock-work - and told him to go over tomorrow morning and speak to settle with Mr. Freeman about it - breakfast and had written the last 17 lines of yesterday at 10 ¾ - ¼ hour with A- and out at 11 - a few minutes with Mark Hepworth and carts and chain horse and drivers and Robert Mann’s 2 fillers as yesterday - the 2 carts to go tomorrow to soiling about the open hollow drain down to the meer head - a few minutes with Robert Mann + 4 at the stubbing - took off Wood and Samuel Booth to finish planting at the top of the glen the oaks and hollies got up yesterday, then to Listerwick cabin - Washington’s levelling for the drift to get the stuff out of the meer-drift at, wrong again - 4ft. wrong before - 8in. wrong now - vexed - called at John Oates’s - not returned from Halifax - home at 1 - walked A- out to the glen, the Lodge and in the walk for an hour and sat with her at luncheon - mentioned going to York and that she had better give me a power to manage everything and give me life estate etc to all which she had no objection she had been fearing I should leave her and be tired of her etc rather wrong but better than yesterday and I cheered her up and did her good - A- off to Cliff Hill and I out again at 3 ½ - an hour at John Oates’s - he did not seem much surprised at SW-‘s mistakes - told John he and Mr. Husband must level the whole over again - see what lever there was, level for the meer-drift and bring the level up and see what there was from Dumb mill bridge to Listerwick engine - determined to take the upper bed water off by a new goit thro’ Mytholm holm and upper Place land - JO- thought it would cost £200 - and could not do more than 20 yards per week - I said I would have it settled about in the course of next week and begin as immediately as possible - then to Joseph Mann - could not be driven for less than 5/. a yard - did not know if the stuff could be pulled up at that or not - could do it with 3 vent-pits - in Jonathan Mallinson’s holme and at the end of Mytholm ditto, and at the Dumb mill - there would not be 100 yards of open cutting - could not be done in less than 3 months - perhaps about 500 yards length of goit altogether - then to Aquilla Green’s (had called in the morning but he was not at home) - and just asked old Hannah how she did - went over the land with AG- wants 6 new gates and 8 stoops, 2 old gates repairing - about 110 roods of hedging at 1/. per, apologized for charging so much but John Sunderland said he would do it well for that and about 26 roods of walling - stakes would be 1/. per score and bindings 8. per score - AG- told me Mr. Hodgson had said he would let him have 4 mills in July next - he should rent them of him John Hodgson who has [then] on a long part of 999 years lease or some such thing - but there seems to be no surety of Mr. JH- advising AG- to take care what he was about - he walked back with me on his way to Hx as far as my own gate - if he did not get the 4 mills, would be glad of my spare power at Listerwick - but had rather have had it down at Mytholm because nearer the new road - began to rain a little about 5 or soon after - very rainy when I came in at 6 10 - dressed  - had Mr. Husband - John Oates had been to him - could not get the town’s level till Monday - will come and level on that day - dinner at 7 - coffee - a bottle of claret today out of which I drank Sackville’s health on his 5th birthday and drank near 3 glasses - A-‘s French - with my aunt 35 minutes till 9 20 - poorly but better than yesterday till 10 5 wrote the above of today - rainy windy boisterous night and F40 ° now at 10 5 pm.

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.3.11 SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st, ‪11:46 AM

‬Haddonfield, Illinois

The man walked into the foyer of the large house, squeezing passed the very large security guard who answered the door. A large grandiose staircase arose before him and split half-way up to the second floor, veering off right and left directing toward the two wings of the giant mansion. To his left was a luxiorious dining room with seating for up to twenty. Large renassiance style portraits hung on the walls: picturesque scenes of Italian countrysides and vineyards, the kind of paintings you'd see reproduced on the walls inside of an Olive Garden, only these were no doubt original. To the man's right was a large parlor, with more vibrant paintings, sculptures, antique sofas, and a grand piano in the far corner.

An elderly woman sat on one of these. She was cross-stitching silently. She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed, and then she looked back at what she was doing. The man sighed, ignoring her. In front of him, to the left of the stairs was a sliding door that opened into the actual living space of the home. From there he heard the voice call to him, “Come in son, come on in.”

The man entered the room and saw his boss sitting on a large leather sofa, a persian cat on his lap. He was watching the large flatscreen television mounted above the stone-hearthed fireplace before him. More aerial shots of the burning hospital. The man was frail, liver spots speckled his olive skin. His hair, once brown, was gray and thinning at the top, his eyes once black as night has turned to the color of charcoal smoke. He wore a plush royal blue robe and an old fashioned sleeping cap that reminded the visitor of Ebeneezer Scrooge.

The man bent to one knee before the old man. The cat hissed and jumped off the elderly man's lap and ran off toward the adjacent kitchen. The old man extended his hand, “Thank you for coming so soon.”

The man kissed the old man's hand, “Sure thing Mr. Vizzini.”

“I hope I did not trouble you too much last night Andre,” Mr. Vizzini said as Andre took a seat on the couch beside him.

Andre smiled, “Hey boss...a little romp through the woods never hurt no one.”

Mr. Vizzini laughed. “Good. I didn't get to apologize to you before when we spoke. We were...” he chose his words carefully, “too busy speaking of the grave matter at hand.”

Andre nodded.

“I trust you delivered my message to Mr. Tarasenko and our beloved mayor?” Mr. Vizzini asked, turning back toward the television.

Andre turned toward the screen as well, the national news had gotten a hold of Holly West's interview with Rosalita and were now playing it to the nation.

“Yes boss,” Andre sighed, “And I would have called you sooner but I was getting some much needed sleep.”

Mr. Vizzini nodded, “Your insomnia again?”

“Yes sir, it's been a really bitch, pardon my french.”

Mr. Vizzini smiled, “Well we all need our rest. When one is tired, one cannot think.”

“Yes sir.”

“And I need everyone at the top of their mental capacities.”

“I agree.” Andre remarked.

The old man held up a small square device that he had in his lap. It was a gray box with a single solitary red button on the top. He held it up now and pushed it. Somewhere in the far reaches of the house a chime was heard, soft and tonal. After a few seconds, there was a small crackle of static, and a woman's voice could be heard on an un-seen speaker.

“Yes Mr. Vizzini?”

The old man cleared his throat, “Caterina, would you be a dear and bring my guest and I a scotch on the rocks please?”

“Certainly Mr. Vizzini.”

There was a click indicating the speaker went dead.

“So what did our friends have to say for themselves?” Mr. Vizzini cocked his head to one side inquisitively.

“Tarasenko looks shaken up.” Andre said.

Vizzini grunted and nodded.

“And Dodge wants another front, just like you said he would,” Andre smiled.

“And you told him that that would not be possible?” The old man cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes sir,” Andre said, “he asked me to ask you to reconsider, again, just as you said.”

The old man sighed and nodded. He closed his eyes as if wrapped in meditation.

There were footsteps and into the kitchen appeared a young, tall, beautiful red headed woman that Andre had seen before. It was the waitress from Lou Martini's club.

Tina Tomcat, Andre remembered.

She looked tired in the face, but smiled at the two men cheerfully, holding a small glass in each hand of the brown scotch. Little crushed ice floated in each glass. Her corset had been replaced by a very cliché french maid outfit, which covered her private parts and some more of her body, but not much else.

Mr. Vizzini smiled as he took his glass, “Andre, I'd like you to meet Caterina. Caterina this is my dear friend Mr. Andre.”

Tina smiled at Andre and held out his glass. He took it with a smile of his own.

“We've met before,” Andre replied.

The old man waved a wrinkled hand, “Ah I suppose so, at the Rabbit-in-Red!” Mr. Vizzini took a sip of his drink and then said, “Caterina came in late this morning after no doubt a night of considerable carousing. Mr. Andre and I were just discussing how important sleep is to the body.”

Tina turned and waved a hand back at him, “I'll sleep when I'm dead,” she said with a wink, “besides, I make a hell of a lot more at the Rabbit than I do at this place.”

Andre's eyes went wide. He stared at Mr. Vizzini nervously and took a sip of his drink. He winced. It was very strong.

Mr. Vizzini broke into laughter, which then turned into racked coughing. When he was done coughing, he wiped his eyes and said, “That's what I love about her.” He choked another gulp of his drink down. “I appreciate honesty in a woman.” He raised his glass to Tina.

Tina gave a little curtsy, and disappeared around the corner.

The two men looked back at the television. A picture of the Chumway brothers now dominated the screen. The big bold tag line at the bottom read: MANHUNT ENDS IN MAYHEM.

After a moment, Andre cleared his throat, “Sir, may I offer an opinion.”

Mr. Vizzini sipped and nodded, “Certainly. My appreciation for frankness is not specific to the female gender.”

“I worry that this may not be a good time to send a message to Dodge.” Andre looked down at his glass. The old man had a reputation, he didn't want to discover the fine line only after crossing it.

“You think I should give Mayor Dodge the money.” Vizzini said, very frank himself.

“I think it would be wise to, I think we can both agree the situation has changed.” Andre said, gesturing toward the television.

“I think for the better perhaps.” Vizzini replied. “To my knowledge, the shipment has yet to be...spoiled shall we say. There may be time and an opportunity here to...salvage it, and for that I'll need friends in high places, and for that I'll need leverage.”

“I haven't considered that,” Andre admitted, “But there is always the flip side. This place is now crawling with law enforcement at all levels, and no matter how good we are, there is always a trail, and eventually that trail leads to Tarasenko, which in turns leads to Dodge, which in turns leads to you.”

“I have considered it,” Vizzini said. He sucked the rest of the scotch down in the glass with a loud slurp.

“What was done with the van, if I may ask?”

Vizzini waved, “Oh that was easy. The First Congregational Church of Holiness and Power was just bequeathed a brand new cargo van for their congregation. Complete with title in the envelope signed off to the church from a Mr. Juan Pagan of Winchester Indiana and cash to obtain a new tag.”

Andre smiled and nodded approvingly.

“Mr. Pagan even called me this morning and told me the Pastor of the church called him and thanked him personally.”

“Praise God,” Andre lifted his glass.

“Indeed.” Vizzini took some ice in his mouth and chewed it.

“However.” Andre frowned, “If the cops do get the shipment and nab Tarasenko, do you think he'll talk?”

“Doubtful,” Vizzini responded.

“What about Dodge?” Andre asked. “I see the honorable mayor putting a finger on you at the first hint of trouble.”

“Oh please,” Vizzini laughed, “I have the ability to be on flight to the United Arab Emirates like that,” he snapped his gnarled fingers, “Robert Dodge would love to fantasize but as yet he possessed no such ability. He will go down, he will go down hard and he will go down alone.”

“Is that what you want?” Andre asked.

“Of course not. I'm going to give him the money Andre. This is an opportunity with two heads.”

“How so?”

“On one hand, this is a great opportunity to get more out of our arrangement with Dodge. The spotlight is on him now,” Vizzini gestured at the TV which was now in a commercial. Ramon Aguilar of the newly crowned World Champion Chicago Cubs was singing the praises of a Liberty Burger extra-value meal.

“He'll be desperate. Like an ant under a magnifying glass directing the light of the sun, he will have no where to go and he will be like puddy in my hands.”

Vizzini's eyes went dark. I'm beginning to see the reputation, Andre thought.

“From the other angle,” Vizzini continued, “this is a good time to teach a lesson. The mayor has to learn that he is becoming a liability for me. A liability that I can no longer stomach.”

Andre drained the last of his scotch. “I just worry the cops are going to nab the shipment before we can inact damage control.”

Vizzini smiled and patted the large man next to him on the knee. “Worry solves nothing. We will just have to wait and see what happens.”

Andre sighed, “I just wish I knew.”

NEXT>>

[angelqueen04]

Hamliza Month, Day 26

@megpeggs @historysalt

Farm Offend Summary: Eliza and Liza have a talk after a difficult visitor. Note: A good deal of this is inspired by Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoie’s version of events in their novel, My Dear Hamilton. I added some of my own thoughts and twists to it, but their version lays at its heart. All credit to them.

Eliza stood at the parlor window, her back straight as a board, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. This set of windows had a good view of the road leading away from the Grange, which provided her with an excellent view of the comings and goings of travelers as they sped by, on their way to Albany or New York, depending on their direction. The view it gave her at this particular moment was even more agreeable, however, as it allowed her to watch the gig[1] carrying James Monroe drive away from the house.

Good riddance, she thought with a measure of grim satisfaction. The Virginian had come here hoping that time had softened her, had made her amenable to accepting some well-turned little speech that he’d obviously planned out in his mind beforehand.[2] Well, he’d now learned otherwise.

“Mama?”

Eliza slowly turned from the window. Standing just inside the parlor door was her dear Liza, with good Mr. Holly and Eliza’s fifteen-year-old nephew, Alexander Malcolm. All three were staring at her, their eyes wide and full of shock, which was more than enough to tell her that they had all heard most, if not all, of her interview with the former President.

Eliza met their gazes head on, refusing to be cowed or chagrined by her behavior. Her words and actions toward Mr. Monroe might not have been within the bounds of societal convention – all right, they most certainly weren’t – but they were only the minimum of what he deserved from her. “Yes, dearest?” she asked her daughter.

Liza didn’t say anything else, clearly startled by her mother’s nonchalant attitude. Mr. Holly also seemed to have been astonished into silence. Young Alexander, however, managed to find his tongue.

“My goodness, Aunt!” he exclaimed, shocked enthusiasm filling his voice, “I did not expect to see or hear anything like this when I came to visit! You dressing down a former President of the United States like he was an errant schoolboy!” He glanced at his cousin and asked, “Does this sort of thing happen often, Cousin Liza? Perhaps I should come ‘round more often!”

Eliza saw her daughter and son-in-law exchange a meaningful look and, for a moment, a wave of sadness splashed over her. She had once had someone to exchange such glances with, but not for a long, long time now. She shook her head and held her chin high. Now was not the time for grief.

Off the look from his wife, Mr. Holly dropped a hand on young Alexander’s shoulder and said, “Come, cousin, let me show you the new fishing rods I purchased. I think you’ll enjoy them.” Without waiting for a response, he guided the boy out of the parlor and out the front door, leaving Eliza alone with her daughter.

Eliza turned from Liza’s gaze, intending to settle herself in a chair near the fireplace. Spring had come, but it was still quite chilly, and a fire was still necessary to keep the house warm. With a sigh, she sank into the seat, and waited for Liza to speak. Her daughter was by nature outspoken, a trait she came by honestly. How could she not be, with two such parents? Liza would have her say, no matter what.

She did not speak immediately, however. Instead, Liza crossed the room and took a seat in the other chair just across from the one Eliza had seated herself in. That chair had been Alexander’s once, Eliza thought wistfully. They’d sometimes sit together here in the parlor, late into the evening after the children had gone to bed, and just enjoy the silence and warmth of one another’s company.

She and Alexander had hoped to have many years to do such things, but that wretch, Burr, had had other plans. And so Eliza, more often than not, was left to sit by the fire in the Grange alone. Only rarely did any of her family or other visitors dare to sit in that chair.

“Was that wise, Mama?” Liza asked her, her tone soft. Her dark eyes, mirrors to Eliza’s own, were steady and thoughtful. “Mr. Monroe might no longer be President, but he likely still has influence. Given the positions some of your sons hold, surely it was ill-advised to offend him like that?”

A snort escaped Eliza before she could stop it. “He’ll do nothing to your brothers, you may rest easy on that score,” Eliza told her. “These Virginians pride themselves on their honor, and your brothers have nothing to do with why that man came here today. And besides,” she added in a colder tone, “he offended me first. Perhaps it is childish, but there it is.”

Liza stared at her. “He came here seeking a rapprochement with you, Mama. Is that so very bad?”

Eliza could feel the fire, the rage, rising in her, but she kept it contained. Liza did not deserve her fury. She shook her head. “He could claim he sought peace all he wanted, but what he really wanted was forgiveness. He wanted me to forgive him for making a mockery of my private pain, for humiliating me before all the world in his efforts to wage war on your father.”

Liza blinked, and confusion was soon writ all over her expression. Eliza sighed. “I suppose I never did tell you everything,” she admitted. Only once had she ever spoken to her daughter of that cursed pamphlet and of Alexander’s infidelity. It had not been a conversation that Eliza had relished, and so had kept it short and to the point. She suspected that her sons had likely told their sister more, but she did not know for certain. Even if they did, they did not know all of it.

“When government officials came to investigate your father for improper speculation, your father revealed the truth of the matter to them – that he was paying off the husband of his mistress.” Liza winced at the harsh phrasing, but didn’t interrupt. Eliza, long used to the tale, kept speaking without pause. “He exhorted them to keep quiet about this, as his private failings had no bearing on his public integrity. To this, they agreed, for they all knew that there was no improper conduct in the course of your father’s duties as President Washington’s Treasury Secretary.” That there was more than enough to say about his improper conduct as a private man went unsaid. “Your father also entrusted the proof of all of this to them, but he requested copies.”

Liza shook her head, a pained expression on her face. “Mama, what does this have to do with President Monroe?”

Eliza gave her a chiding look for her impatience. “Everything, dear. Mr. Monroe was the leader of that little delegation of investigators. It was to him that your father gave the papers – Maria Reynolds’ letters, James Reynolds’ blackmail, the record of the payments, all of it. When your father requested copies, he assumed that Mr. Monroe would make the copies himself, in keeping with his promise to keep the knowledge of it as contained as possible.” She could not help the sneer crossing her face. “But Mr. Monroe decided that this was not worth a hand cramp, and so entrusted the task to a clerk within the House of Representatives. Mr. Monroe later claimed that this clerk made copies for himself as well.” She shook her head. “In any case, Mr. Monroe decided that he would ‘entrust’ the papers to a ‘trusted friend in Virginia’, who would theoretically keep them under lock and key, particularly when Mr. Monroe was out of the country.”

Her daughter was not a fool. She stiffened, catching on very quickly. “President Jefferson.”

Eliza nodded, her fingers gripping the armrest in a vicelike grip. “’Tis like trusting a fox to behave himself in a henhouse. Later, when it proved most advantageous to them, the papers were given to a vile newspaperman, who did not hesitate to print them and use them against your father. Of course, the focus of that odious man’s accusations was, again, in leveling the charge of speculation. Your father’s response was to call upon the three men who had cleared him of that charge, asking them to reiterate that they had been satisfied in their investigation. Two of them agreed without hesitation, but the third…” she trailed off. The memory still hurt, even now.

“Mr. Monroe would not,” Liza finished for her, her voice soft.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Eliza confirmed, the bitterness settling in the back of her throat like bile, burning. “He declared that him getting involved would only cause more chaos than there already was.” She sniffed. “He was already involved, as he was the one who handed the papers off to the very man who saw to their release into the public consciousness. But the fact that he himself had not done so was enough for Mr. Monroe to split hairs and to claim and declare that he was not in any way responsible, and that your father should just leave it be.” Of course, Alexander could not leave anything be. That was not his way. He had to meet every accusation, every attack, head on.

“So Papa wrote that pamphlet.”

“Yes.” One terrible word, one terrible truth. “James Monroe knew your father very well, despite them being political opponents. He knew Alexander would react to preserve his political reputation, for the sake of the country’s existence. If the public believed that the founder of the country’s credit, its wealth and prestige, was corrupt, it would shake apart for good. He knew Alexander would fall on his sword, would admit his private sins for the sake of the public’s greater good – and that’s exactly what he and his friends wanted. Alexander Hamilton would preserve the nation from the crisis they had invoked, but at the cost of all his credibility. He would cease to be a threat to their ambitions.” And that was what had happened. Alexander’s reputation suffered for his confessions, and only once after that did he wield any real semblance of power – when he stood at the head of the army he had begun to build, and that had been ripped away when Mr. Adams made peace with France and declared that the United States needed no army. The fool.

“But in getting what he wanted, Mr. Monroe had sullied his honor,” Eliza continued resentfully. “He knew it. I knew it. And Virginians are very prickly about their honor. He had sworn to not reveal those documents to anyone, which Alexander asked him to do for my sake and that of our family. But he broke that promise, and opened the door for his own allies to attack me, someone he considered an innocent party.” Some of those infernal newspaper headlines still stung.

“That is what he wanted, Liza,” she said. “James Monroe wanted me to clear the mud off his honor. His health is in serious decline. His wife has passed, and he’s not long in following her, I think. He wants to die with his conscience clear, and that I will not give him. I will not forgive the man. Not because he humiliated me, mind you. But because he and his friends, most specifically that reptile now mouldering in his grave at Monticello, set out to destroy your father, a man they viewed as unworthy of anything he touched because he was not like them, not born here, not born to inherit some Godforsaken speck of land. Your father earned all he gained, and that they could not abide.”

Liza leaned back in the chair. “And I thought all men were created equal here,” she murmured.

Eliza snorted again. She seemed to be doing that quite often these days. Her mother would be appalled. “Oh no,” she said, “They talk prettily, but in the minds of many people, there is still a hierarchy, where people ought to ‘know their place.’” She paused, her eyes turning from Eliza to the fire. She stared into the flames, could feel its heat seeping under her dress to her feet. “Your papa was a good man, if a very flawed one. He believed in the promise that this country holds, and in those very words that Mr. Jefferson put to paper. Whatever his shortcomings, of which he would have been the first to admit that he had many, he did not deserve the slander they threw upon him.” She looked up again. “So no, I will most emphatically not pat James Monroe on the head and tell him all is well and forgiven. Not when he showed himself as having no remorse for his actions.

“Perhaps that makes me self-righteous,” Eliza admitted. “Perhaps the good Lord will frown upon my unkindness. But I am no saint, no angel. There are limits to what I can give, my dear, and we just found what those limits are. Justice shall be done to the memory of my dear Hamilton, and that justice will not come in coddling the men who sought to erase every trace of him.”[3]

Liza nodded, and they both fell into silence. They sat together for some time, until Mr. Holly and young Alexander finally returned.

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 46 Review: 2 Theories About Jean Paul, Erica, and the Locket

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 | 3 }

{ Full Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

In this great house on Maljardin, evil lives, even amongst the dead, and the poison this evil spreads threatens Erica Desmond, who lies frozen in this cryocapsule until the day a scientific miracle returns her to the living and back into the arms of her husband Jean Paul Desmond, who has defied powers real and imagined to assure his wife’s return from beyond the veiled curtain of death. Strange happenings are forcing a decision that could doom Erica Desmond...forever. 

Hello and welcome back to my Garden of Evil, where today we will examine Jean Paul’s reaction to Dr. Alison Carr’s new discovery about her sister’s bloodied locket and two possible explanations of what it may say about Erica’s death and Jean Paul’s state of mind. I could do an entire recap of this episode if I wanted to, but I'd rather narrow the focus of this entry to the theories that have been floating around my head for a while (one since before I started this blog, in fact).

A brief summary of the important stuff that happens in this episode: Alison learns that the blood on the locket is human blood, type AB-, which leads her to conclude that it must be Erica’s, because both she and Erica have that rare blood type[1]. She also tests the poison found in the glass of wine that Holly drank from two episodes ago and finds that it’s not the missing cyanide, but an unknown poison of vegetable origin. Elizabeth defends herself to Matt, telling him that she has no motive to kill Holly, not even her inheritance--and, surprisingly, he believes her. And then Raxl and Quito steal the rabbit from Jean Paul’s room and stumble upon that wonderfully sinister skull, which will co-star with Jacques in Episode 47.

Jean Paul receives irrefutable proof that the locket found around the rabbit’s neck belonged to Erica.

Outside of those plot points, this episode focuses primarily on Jean Paul’s confusion over how a bloodied locket even ended up in the cryonics capsule with his beloved Erica to begin with. When Alison shows Jean Paul the blood sample under the microscope, he's skeptical at first and tries to convince her that she either bled on it or someone else somehow put her blood there to confuse him. I would say it boggles my mind how someone with an IQ of 187 like Jean Paul can conceive such a ridiculous theory, but, honestly, it doesn’t. The popularity of conspiracy theories and other misinformation in our time has convinced me that human beings of any intelligence level can trick themselves into believing anything, no matter how patently absurd, if they want to believe it enough.

Subtle Dark Shadows reference?

I can’t tell how much of the next part where Jean Paul continues speculating about the locket is actually in the script and how much is just a particularly bad line flub. Listening to his dialogue, it sounds like a combination of both, but it’s hard to tell given that the character is supposed to be very confused already. Here’s an exact transcription of what he says:

Jean Paul: "Well, maybe I-I-I put the necklace on her neck without realizing it. I perhaps didn't put it on her when I put it in the capsule. It could have happened that way very easily. You see, I had thought I had. You didn't see me do it, did you, Raxl?" Raxl: "No." Jean Paul: "Quito, did you?" Quito: *shakes head* Jean Paul: "Well, there you are. You see? She could have cut her finger a while before she died, and so the blood got on the locket, and maybe I put the locket in the, uh, dresser drawer, and it was left there, and in my grief I didn't know what I was doing and I gave her another piece of jewelry which I put around her neck. Don't you think that probably is what has happened?"

Vangie isn’t convinced of any of these theories, and neither is Raxl. The latter believes that the locket appeared because of evil, “slimy like a snake, ugly like a black rabbit.” (WTF? The rabbit is adorable!) Jean Paul accuses Vangie of suspecting him, but she insists she doesn’t. Of course, he doesn’t believe her and he takes out his anger by breaking Alison’s microscope in half, throwing it to the ground, and accusing Erica of mocking him.

In the next scene, he ruminates in his room over the likelihood that he killed Erica, intentionally or otherwise:

Could I have killed my Erica? Could I have slain my love? That's impossible! Oh, you would like it, Jacques Eloi des Mondes, my bloody murdering ancestor. If it was so, how you would rejoice! But then, if I didn't put the locket in the cryocapsule with Erica as I thought, what other things that I believe as facts--things which are part of my life and experience--may be no more than creeping, malicious, lying fancies? Perhaps I didn't love my Erica at all. Perhaps I hated her!

Jean Paul pondering whether he truly loved Erica.

Getting dramatic!

Later, while lying on his bed in shirtsleeves, he realizes that he genuinely loved her, but that his memory is still faulty:

Jean Paul: "I loved her. I remember how I loved her. There was no world but the world outside, and then there was another world and that was us. Oh, how I loved her, so good, so beautiful, but what happened at the end? I can't…was the necklace with Erica when she was sealed in the capsule? I can't remember."

But later on when he visits the Great Hall (inadvertently giving Raxl and Quito the opportunity to retrieve the Rabbit of Evil), Jacques torments him by implying that Jean Paul, like him, is a murderer. “Think there’s a chance you may have murdered your sweet Erica?” he asks. “That blood was very interesting, wasn’t it?”

Jacques hinting again that they’re the same man, or just that the apple doesn’t fall far from the proverbial tree? Or perhaps this is like that one line from Game of Thrones: “You can’t kill me, I’m a part of you now.”

Then we get this exchange which acts as a segue into the next scene:

Jacques: "So maybe you killed your little love before you put her in that tin coffin, hm? Maybe there is no pristine, pure body to revive. That's what's been on your mind all day, isn't it?"   Jean Paul: "Even if it has been, I certainly wouldn't tell you."   Jacques: "You can have no secrets from me, anyhow. You know, if you ever are thinking of murdering again…" Jean Paul: "I did not kill her!" Jacques: "All right!" *laughs* "But whether you did or not, you might want to kill someone else one of these days." Jean Paul:  "Good night." Jacques: "All right, run away, but you might find an example of my skill nearer than you know and sooner than you think."

After he storms out of the Great Hall, Raxl and Quito return, the latter carrying the rabbit. Before they can sacrifice the rabbit in an effort to rid the house of its evil, it jumps from Quito’s arms. While trying to catch it, he bumps his head into a painting of mysterious ancestor Étienne des Mondes and knocks it off the wall, revealing a hidden cupboard with a skull swinging from a rope through its jaws.

We’ll discuss this skull in the review for next episode, where it becomes the focus. For the rest of this review, however, let us turn our attention to two possible interpretations of the Jean Paul and Jacques scenes in this episode. My theories are as follows:

Theory #1: Jean Paul killed Erica and is living in denial

Jean Paul’s reaction to learning that his deceased wife’s blood is on the locket and especially Jacques’ comments about it seem to imply that Dan Forrest’s theory about murder may not be a red herring after all as Ian Martin would have had us believe. Remember that, although Jacques is evil and Martin’s episodes portrayed him as the Father of Lies, he and Jean Paul may or may not be the same man. That could mean anything from Jean Paul having a split personality to Jacques having transported himself forward in time to live as Jean Paul Desmond before the events of Episode 1, but I’ll save those ideas for another essay. The point is that Jacques seems to know Jean Paul as well as he knows himself, and as such knows things about him that the other characters don’t.

It’s possible even that Jacques has observed and interacted with Jean Paul since long before Jean Paul freed him by removing the silver pin from the conjure doll’s temple. Think back to Jacques’ introductory scene in the pilot, where he responds to Jean Paul’s proclamation of “on this island, from this moment forward, I am God” with “bravo.” He could speak through the portrait and even give characters visions before Jean Paul freed him! Also think of all the things he’s referenced that a man from the 17th century wouldn’t be aware of: merry-go-rounds, bus time tables, the figurative expression “jack up by the bootstraps,” and whatnot. Assuming Jacques is a spirit like he claims, he’s been observing and learning things on Maljardin for a very long time! Sure, he looked confused about that fountain pen in Episode 4, but perhaps that was only because he hadn’t had a chance to practice using one before Jean Paul set him free. If Jean Paul killed Erica, Jacques would know about it and may even have encouraged it by communicating with him through the portrait. There’s no indication that the scene in the pilot is the first time he made contact with his descendant. It could be the second time, the fifth, the tenth, the thousandth, or more.

Also note that the exact cause of Erica’s death is never made clear. Jean Paul claims in Episode 5 that she died of eclampsia, but the Lost Episode summary for Episode 47 from the CBC program log indicates that Dr. Menkin’s missing notes would have eventually revealed her to have “died attempting to gain eternal youth.” The latter could have meant anything from plastic surgery complications to swallowing gold à la Diane de Poitiers. It’s not even clear if the attempt at eternal youth is truly the cause of her death, just what she was doing when she died. This leaves the possibility of homicide open.

But did Jean Paul (or Dr. Menkin) intentionally kill her, or could it have been an unpremeditated, spur-of-the-moment decision? I believe the latter is more likely. Jean Paul seems genuinely confused by her death, and even by whether he loved or hated her. It’s possible he already wasn’t in his right mind before her death and may even have blacked out during it (although probably not because of possession, as he had not yet freed Jacques). Perhaps the artificial intelligence hinted at by the reference to W. Grey Walter’s “Imitation of Life” factored into this: for example, the implant inside Erica’s brain may have malfunctioned, causing her to become violent and attack Jean Paul and/or Dr. Menkin.

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM (1961)

Another thing to consider: Strange Paradise shares many plot points in common with the Roger Corman/Vincent Price movie The Pit and the Pendulum. In the film, we have (1) a husband whose wife recently died under mysterious circumstances, (2) whom he comes to suspect he accidentally murdered. (3) His doctor is living at the castle with him, when (4) a sibling of his deceased wife comes to investigate her death. Among the ghostly happenings in the house, (5) a portrait of the wife is slashed. Finally, (6) the husband goes mad and (7) is possessed by an evil lookalike ancestor, in this case his father. While I don’t think that we can accurately predict planned revelations in Strange Paradise using the events of a film written by someone unaffiliated with the show’s production, it is interesting to note that Vincent Price’s character accidentally buried his wife alive. This connects to the events of Episode 44, where Erica’s spirit possesses Holly and tells them to “let [her] out,” although in Erica’s case it’s more likely that she’s just been resurrected from death instead of being buried alive.

END SPOILERS

Theory #2: Jean Paul is imagining things

Another possibility is that he didn't kill Erica and is using the new (apparent) evidence to construct a false memory of killing her. Although most of us like to think of memory as infallible, numerous studies have proven that it's anything but. This can occur on a collective level, such as the famous Mandela effect where, prior to Nelson Mandela's actual death in 2013, many people misremembered him as having died in the 1980s. More often, however, individual people remember false versions of events from their own lives.

In the late 20th century, numerous psychological studies identified the way that even changing small details of a story--changing a stop sign to a yield sign, for example, or adding the detail of broken glass to the story of an accident--could alter a subject's memory of it, creating a "misinformation effect." During one such study, researchers used a fake advertisement showing Bugs Bunny in front of the Sleeping Beauty Castle at Disneyland to trick their subjects into believing that they could meet Bugs at the park (despite Bugs being a Warner Brothers character and Warner Brothers being affiliated instead with Six Flags). For 16 percent of the subjects, it worked, and they described further false memories of meeting Bugs at Disney, adding details like that they touched the ear of his costume[2].

Speaking of false memories of amusement parks, I swore for years that I remembered visiting a dinosaur theme park in the northern Ohio woods back in 1998 or 1999, when I was five or six. I never questioned whether the memory was real until one day when my family drove past a drive-through dinosaur exhibit and my dad said to my mom, "They didn't have anything like that when Michelle was a kid." Skeptical of his claim, I did some Googling and discovered that there was a dinosaur-themed park in the woods near Sandusky called the Prehistoric Forest that looked much like what I thought I remembered[3]. When I sent my parents the link to the article about the Prehistoric Forest, both of them denied ever taking me there or even having heard of the place. Nevertheless, I swear I've been there or somewhere very similar. I think the most likely explanation is that I dreamt about it, but that the memory of the dream was so vivid that I mistook it as one from my waking life.

Much as a researcher can convince their subjects to believe that Bugs Bunny appeared at Disney or I convinced myself that I had visited a place like the Prehistoric Forest, Jean Paul is capable of brainwashing himself into thinking that he murdered Erica. This isn't even the only time he speculates without clear evidence that he’s guilty of murder. We'll see something similar in Episode 137 regarding the murder of a different character, whom Jean Paul will successfully convince himself he killed despite hazy evidence at best.

Note that these two theories are not one hundred percent mutually exclusive. It’s entirely possible that Jean Paul killed Erica, but misremembered specific details about her death or how he felt about her. Also note that this show contains quite a few retcons, one of which we saw last episode. Just as the trajectory of this show has changed significantly from Ian Martin’s original plot, the truth about Erica Desmond’s fate is currently in flux within the show’s universe.

The contents of the secret compartment that Raxl and Quito discovered.

Coming up next: A delightfully chilling episode where Jacques uses the skull that Raxl and Quito found to further terrorize his guests.

{<-- Previous: Episode 45   ||   Next: Episode 47 -->}

Notes

[1] While rabbits can have type AB blood (or type ZY blood, using the system from this 1954 study) and they cannot tolerate injections of Rh-positive blood, they have different antibodies in their blood from those of humans.

[2] Elizabeth F. Loftus, "Memories of Things Unseen," in Current Directions in Psychological Science 13:4 (2004), pp. 145-146. There are other examples from other studies, including one involving false memories of witnessing a demonic possession, but the Bugs one is my personal favorite. Also, this period of Strange Paradise puts me in a rabbity mood.

[3] Coincidentally, the Prehistoric Forest's entrance appeared in the 1995 film Tommy Boy, which also featured Colin Fox and Pat Moffat (Irene Hatter) in supporting roles. There was also an animatronic dinosaur attraction at Sea World Ohio called Carnivore Park that operated in the late 1990s. Despite having visited that Sea World many times as a kid, I couldn’t have gone to that exhibit because we couldn’t afford to go there in 1998 or 1999.

[fanfoolishness]

SUtM and what being a Diamond means for Steven

I’ve been trying to figure out how to contextualize the Steven Universe movie, now that we’re well into Steven Universe Future.  What is its narrative importance?  What does it mean for SUF?  Because it’s a lovely story on its own, and many shows could have ended right there and called it good -- the good guys win again, balance is restored, villain redeemed, it’s all going to be all right.  I was very curious to see where the Crewniverse would go from here and have a few thoughts rattling around my head.

Initially, I thought of the movie as a coda.  It summarized the Gems’ character arcs beautifully, as well as calling back to Steven being unable to use his powers and then showing us what it looks like when he is able to fully control them (well, so we thought! Hi there Pink!Steven).  It also served to say that happily ever after isn’t a fairy tale, it’s something that has to be worked on every day, which is a good and healthy message on the face of it.

Unfortunately, I think the healthy version -- life will always have challenges, but we can face them together -- is not exactly the message Steven came away with.  I think what he came away with is this: He has to work on his future every day.  He can’t sit around and dream of a gauzy happily ever after because that would be resting, that would be wrong.  He understands that he can get through things with his friends, but more concerning, he came away with the idea that he, specifically he, Steven, can never stop.

In the movie, he learned that he could never rest.  He had thought he was finally done, finally us, finally we -- finally free.  I get the feeling that Steven had been running on fumes by the time he leaves the Diamonds to really return home, and had thought, If I can just see this through, then I can finally rest.  Spinel’s attack shattered that thought.

He learned that he can make an effort, a change -- that he has to.  He learned that while he can delegate to Connie and Alexandrite to save the town, that he can reach out for assistance from Bismuth and Lapis and Peridot, that ultimately, it all falls on his shoulders.  He’s the one who has to climb the injector, he’s the one who has to talk to Spinel, who has to battle her, who has to show her another path.  It’s up to him.  And it always will be.  

And part of that mindset, I think, is that he’s a Diamond.

All along we’ve seen signs of Steven’s incredible charisma, his abilities to lead and unify, as early as Coach Steven.  Keep in mind this is before he developed any Diamond powers, so part of his charisma likely comes from his dad and his human side - he was always going to have the ability to be a charmer, gem or no.  But it starts leveling up massively the better handle he gets on his powers.

We’ve seen his decisions more and more affect the lives of the Crystal Gems, his father (Mr. Greg, Steven’s Dream), and the residents of Beach City (no one more than Lars).  We’ve seen the Gems start to defer to him, a pattern that was invisible to Steven until Bismuth called him out on it.  By Change Your Mind, it’s clear that Steven’s force of will, even despite his lingering self-doubt, is a powerful thing, able to bring Gems out of a poofed state through fusion, able to convince Blue and Yellow and White of a better way.  

We’ve also started to realize that this is characteristic of all Diamonds.  We’d seen gems like Peridot, Holly Blue Agate, Jasper and the Zircons idolize their Diamonds, but remember too that Rose Quartz commanded an army of Gems she convinced to join her fight.  Remember that she mesmerized humans.  Remember that Volleyball refused to speak ill of Pink and that Spinel waited patiently in a garden for 6000 years for her.  Diamonds hold sway over other Gems and beings, even unintentionally.

I’m not sure if Steven realizes it consciously, or if it’s still operating at a subconscious level, but he possesses that power.  He’s used it to redirect White and Blue and Yellow.  He says that Gems usually come to Little Homeschool when he talks to them in person.  He says he doesn’t know why he wanted to take over Amethyst’s project for her.  He’s doing the thing, he’s choosing to exert his will and his effort like a Diamond, and it’s working.

And this is where we see Steven in SUF painstakingly creating the entire curriculum and schedule for Little Homeschool, even though as former Homeworld Gems, people like Peridot, Lapis, Bismuth, Pearl and Garnet should really be running it.  He’s never been to a school.  He doesn’t know the first thing about it.  But it’s his idea, and he can’t rest unless he exerts control over it.  Excessive control.  He’s still running around the galaxy individually recruiting Gems to join up.  How many of these missions does he go on?  Unleash the Light saw him visiting multiple colony worlds, talking to dozens of Gems.  Multiply that over the past 2-3 years and there is so much work, so much effort, so much, so much, so much.

Happily ever after isn’t fixed, it’s something he’s going to chase, and he’s going to force it into existence for everyone.

But he’s stopped thinking about it for himself.

I keep thinking of what Yellow Diamond said so haltingly to White.   We... W- We... We need to talk!... About us. I've conquered so many worlds for the sake of the empire. I do everything you ask, and I do it all perfectly. But your very high standards put us all under a lot of pressure. A Gem could crack under so much... pressure. We Diamonds may be hard, but we're also... brittle.

In Steven’s blind pursuit of happily ever after for others, he’s continuing to exert enormous amounts of will on others, and enormous pressure on himself.  We see he’s shed previous joys and possibly friendships (where are the Beach City teens and Connie???) without gaining new ones.  We see his existence revolve around rehabilitating Gems and running the school.  We see a possible future where Steven literally collapses from self-pressure -- over something as simple as a safety seminar and a babysitting date!  We see his relationships with the Gems grow distant.  We see his own relationship with his feelings and his sleep suffer (Pink!Steven, biting his blanket, hiding his mother’s portrait, three mugs of peppermint tea on his bedside, having trouble getting up in the morning without a pep talk).  We see him trying, so hard, to make a change.

He’s a Diamond.  He’s going to make it happen.  There’s no question there.

The question is, will he crack along the way?

[dear-wormwoods]

may I ask for a style fanfic rec list? 🥺🥺🥺

I have a couple of requests for this and I’ve been thinking about how to respond, because to be honest, I very rarely read fic these days. And by ‘these days’ I mean like, since 2014. I always have things I intend to read, but then time goes by and I don’t get around to it. So nothing I’m going to rec is new and you’ve probably already read them fkjds.

Anyway, sorry to be predictable by just being like “read Hollycomb’s fics” but...

The Scenic Route - 116k words, should be rated E for the final two chapters (I literally have no idea why it’s rated T on AO3, it was definitely M when I first read it on ff.net years ago)

Summary: The boys embark on a six day road trip to California before separating for college. Cartman is a pain in the ass, Kenny has no future, Butters is in crisis, and Kyle doesn't know how he'll say goodbye to Stan.

Why you should read it: The yearning. This fic is written entirely in Kyle’s POV, and Holly does such a brilliant job of getting into his head and really capturing that feeling of already mourning a friendship/relationship before it’s even over and kind of intentionally setting the bridge on fire to make what is (seemingly) inevitable hurry along, as if that will make it hurt less (it doesn’t). The first six chapters, the actual road trip portion of the fic (where the T rating actually does apply), are where it is at its strongest, and Kyle’s gradual descent into panicky, angry desperation is painfully real. I can’t stress enough how in character everyone is, each retaining recognizable mannerisms and dynamics from canon while still clearly being grown people entering adulthood. There’s a reason this fic is THE Style fic. 

Leave the Pieces - 251k words, rated E (though that rating only represents a small portion of such a long fic)

Summary: Stan and Kyle meet as strangers in their mid-twenties, shocked to encounter someone else who can't remember the first ten years of his life. They form an instant connection, but only one person in South Park remembers them, and Kenny can't explain why they disappeared or why the rest of the town forgot them.

Why you should read it: It’s a lengthy epic with supernatural elements, a complicated plot that fits right into the show’s universe, and the kind of love that quite literally transcends time, space, and memory. I can’t explain it much further without giving away the plot, but this behemoth is gut wrenching and powerful. It is equal parts a story about Stan and Kyle finding each other as adults and falling in love despite not remembering who they are, or each other, and a deep exploration into Kenny’s character and his curse. Kenny is really the MVP of the story, despite it initially seeming like “just” a Style fic, and his relationship with Wendy is written beautifully and convincingly. One caveat, though: some parts of this fic... I’m not a fan of. I greatly dislike Cartman/Butters just as a concept, and there were times, particularly in the first half of the fic, where I almost quit reading because of their scenes. I also feel like this fic fell victim to fandom’s earlier tendency to mischaracterize Craig as borderline sociopathic (but in contrast, he’s absolutely perfect in Holly’s oneshot Other People’s Tupperware). However, I’m such a sucker for supernatural memory loss not being able to sever soul connections, and Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Wendy’s respective journeys more than make up for my reluctance to stomach Cartman/Butters or other comparatively minor issues. And honestly, everything does fall into place as the plot unfolds, so all I can say is... if you hit certain scenes and think ‘wtf IS this??’, just stick it out, the payoff is worth it, especially if you’re looking for high quality Kenny content.

Amalgamation - 78k words, rated T (but should be rated M imo, because there are sex scenes, though they aren’t very explicit, just intimate)

Summary: In 1862, Kyle's family is forced to move from New York to a tiny mining settlement at the foot of Pike's Peak in Colorado. Kyle is sixteen years old and miserable until he meets Stan, a fellow transplant who has been in town for three years. Their feelings for each other are shadowed by the town's haunted history, and for Kyle the local legends begin to feel more like real nightmares.

Why you should read it: I know ‘1860′s gold mining settlement AU’ doesn’t sound very fascinating, but it is. This is another one that’s written in Kyle’s POV and again Holly does a wonderful job of expressing his emotional turmoil, the guilt and shame he feels, his self-righteousness, and the depth of his love for Stan. Everyone is as they would be if the clock was turned back 150 years, made different by the time period and the demands of their circumstances but still obviously recognizable. The old-timey atmosphere and world-building are so seamless and never feels unrelatable. There are also supernatural/ghost/mystery themes in this one and the fear is palpable.

From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell - 170k words, rated E, includes major character death (aside from Kenny)

Summary: Ten years after the execution of Terrance and Phillip, the war with Canada has not ended. Stan and most of Kyle's friends are planning to join the army after high school graduation, bound to be drafted anyway. Kyle doesn't believe in the war, but he's not willing to let Stan go without him.

Why you should read it: This is.... a perfect fic, and I don’t say that lightly. It is quite possibly the ONLY perfect fic I have ever read, in any fandom. I can’t actually describe all the ways in which it’s perfect without giving the plot details away, but, God, if you commit to reading just one of the long-ass fics I’m reccing on this list, make it this one. Please. It honestly makes me mad that this one never got the same attention as like, The Scenic Route, or ‘Night School’ did, because it so deserves to be up there. Only Holly could take the concept of the fucking movie and turn it into a completely devastating, bittersweet, epic romance. There is no caveat here, no ‘I loved it except for this and this’, just thorough, soul-crushing perfection. Just... Kyle. God, Kyle. I can’t elaborate, my heart isn’t up to the task. This fic will haunt me for the rest of my life.

The Ascent of Stan - 32k words, rated E, though it is like 95% domestic fluff

Summary: Stan sells his small pest control company and Kyle thinks they should use some of the money to go to Hawaii, where he proceeds to grill Stan about the mid-life crisis that Stan claims he's not having while their kids frolic nearby.

Why you should read it: This one is everything a domestic fic should be. It basically just chronicles the events of a week-long vacation to Hawaii that nearly-40 Stan and Kyle take with their two kids. This one is written fully in Stan’s POV and it works so well... he’s exactly the kind of dad that I imagine he would be, doing his best to provide for and protect his family’s little bubble and resolving to be better than his father while quietly fighting the lingering shadow of his alcoholism and cynicism. There’s no real conflict in this one, just 30,000 words of a very typical family vacation: not exactly blissful, irritating at times, but ultimately the foundation for perfect memories. 

Never Change - 115k words, rated E

Summary: Thirteen years after his high school girlfriend's pregnancy upended his life, Stan is still in South Park, working with his partner Bebe as a local cop. They're in the process of investigating a series of possibly connected murders when FBI agent Kyle Broflovski returns to town and informs his old friend Stan that this is his investigation now.

Why you should read it: This is equal parts a murder mystery and a romance. It features exactly the kind of Stan/Kyle situation I hate to think about - a decade-long estrangement of their own making that comes to an abrupt end due to extenuating circumstances. It hurts because of how likely it is to happen that way, and it works especially well in this fic because of Stan’s reluctance to embrace his own bisexuality until he’s nearly 30 and Kyle’s tendency to put up walls to protect himself. Also, Bebe features prominently in this fic, which is always a huge bonus.  

Bonus Oneshot Rec:

The Reformation of Fart Boy - 7k words, unrated but probably T, just barely

Summary: Five times South Park has brought Kyle to the brink of sanity and Stan has brought him back.

Why you should read it: I love thinking about the ways in which canon-typical nonsense continues to impact the characters in the long term on a serious psychological level. Kyle has suffered a lot in canon and it’s obvious even in the show that it is gradually changing him and wearing him down, so I really love this fic for focusing on his responses to some of the more traumatic moments, as seen through Stan’s eyes. 

I feel sort of guilty only reccing one author for right now, because there are other fics out there that I liked and am planning on revisiting, but this post is long enough as it is. Chances are you’ve already read some or all of these, but they’re my favorites. I reread all of them while making this list, and they still hit me hard after all these years. 

[wellthatjusthappend]

Here a request: Tim is a monster or a carnivorous creature but it seems human. (And Tim is in love with Jason. / Or Jason doesn't know that her boyfriend wants to eat him almost all the time.) Extra points if it is based mostly on the canon and is with angst. [I appreciate it if you decide to write it. You are one of the best writers I have ever met. So thanks even if you don't write it.]

Love the vibe from this one. Here’s my stab at it! Oh drat, forgot about the mostly canon part of this one... it’s definitely an au. 

-

“I need a favor,” Dick had said earnestly. 

Jason scowled as he led the way into the dark caves under Gotham. He should know by now that favors with Dick never lead anywhere good. 

For almost as long as Jason could remember, he’d heard stories about the ‘beast’ in Gotham. Most of them bordered on fantastical, a tale to scare children into behaving and not running around at night. ‘If you’re bad,’ they’d say, ‘the beast will get you.’ Jason wasn’t sure if that was the causation or if it was just people being stupid, but criminals did tend to disappear in the night with alarming frequency. 

One thing was for certain: there was something lurking in Gotham. The mangled half eaten carcass periodically found around the city wouldn’t have it any other way. Over the years, Jason himself had stumbled onto a few… nests, for lack of a better word. 

Hence Dick’s favor. 

“I don’t get why the GCPD is even wants to stick its nose into this,” Jason grumbled as he led his childhood-friend-now-police-officer through the dark. 

“People are dying and going missing,” Dick said firmly, “That makes it police business.” 

“Shouldn’t you just be glad someone else is doing your job?” Jason grumbled. 

“Jason,” Dick chided. 

“Whatever,” Jason wrinkled his nose, “I just don’t see why they want to do something about it now after all these years.”

“We just never had the man power before,” Dick said defensively. 

“Admit it, you pissed off the higher ups by not being bribable and now they want a convenient way to get rid of you,” Jason grumbled. 

“Well, maybe,” Admitted Dick, “But it is important. If it’s an animal it really needs to be put down, if it’s some deranged serial killer we need to know that too. Either way, someone should have investigated long before this.”

“Hah,” Jason said humorlessly as they stepped into the cave proper, “Pretty sure humans can’t do this.”

Beside him, Dick caught his breath. Jason could relate, even after years of occasionally finding nests, the heaps of mangled bones of humans and animals alike was always chilling to look at. Against the walls there were great claw marks several inches deep. 

“Holly shit,” Dick said, pulling out his camera and notebook and immediately starting to catalogue everything. 

Jason left him to it. 

It might be a little morbid, but Jason had always sort of liked the nests. He probably had a death wish or something, but he often came down here just for some peace and quiet. When he was little, he’d been scared stiff that the beast might come back while he was there. Never stopped him from coming though: despite all the stories, he’d never found any bones of children down here. Not to mention the fact that no one was going to chase after him here. In many ways, the caves were the safest place he could have slept in Gotham. Plus, there were often valuables dropped among the bones that often made the difference between starving to death and living another day. 

This cave was one of the first nests he’d found, and also probably the oldest. If Dick was looking for clues about the origin of this thing, it was probably the best place to start. 

An unfamiliar shape caught his eye, and Jason cautiously made his way over to a new addition to the nest. It looked like a whale carcass, mostly devoured, likely caught and eaten elsewhere given the lack of blood, but fresh enough that it didn’t stink. 

It must have been brought there in the last couple hours.

Jason’s heart rate skyrocketed as he quickly scanned his surroundings.

The beast could still be there.

“Dick, we need to go,” he hissed. 

“But we just got here!” protested Dick as Jason grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards the exit. 

“Do you want to be eaten? You said you’d follow my lead-”

They both froze as they heard something move in the darkness. Dick stared at him wide eyed in sudden understanding.

They should make a break for it, Jason decided. He didn’t know exactly how big the beast was, but judging by the size of some of its prey it should at least have trouble making its way through some of the smaller tunnels-

“Jason, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until next week?” said a voice to his right. 

Jason’s heart leaped into his throat as he whirled to see pale glowing eyes- no, it was just Tim. 

“Jesus, Tim, you about gave me a heart attack,” breathed Jason closing his eyes for a moment, “Wait, no we need to get out of here, the beast-”

“Isn’t here,” Tim said with a confidence that Jason couldn’t help but believe, “But by all means, let’s move to the outer caves.”

“Jay? Who’s this?” Dick asked, peering around Jason. 

“You brought someone with you,” Tim said quietly, reproachful. 

“He bullied me into it,” Jason grumbled, relaxing a bit as they left the cave propper, “Dick, this is Tim, the guy I mentioned earlier who’s even more of an expert about the beast than I am. Tim, this is Dick, he’s an officer on the GCPD who’s been tasked with following up on some recent disappearances that have been linked to the beast.”

“GCPD?” Tim said softly, his gaze sharpening. 

“Yup,” Dick said with a dazzling smile, as he recovered from his nerves, extending his hand, “Glad we can finally meet, it’s not just anyone who can get Jason to gush.” 

“I do not gush,” grumbled Jason feeling heat rise to his cheeks. He caught Tim’s eyes lingering on the color and felt even more embarrassed. Stupid Dick. 

He’d met Tim years back when he’d been sleeping in one of these very caves. Tim apparently was an enthusiastic researcher or something. He knew a lot about the caves and even more about the beast. He was the only person Jason had met who didn’t seem at all afraid. Considering he’d been wandering around these caves for years and was still alive meant that he probably knew what he was talking about. 

Jason also suspected Tim might have a mild crush on him and was possibly a little bit of a stalker. He seemed positively fixated on Jason sometimes, and seemed to turn up wherever Jason was with a frequency that couldn’t be accidental. Despite the uncanny mannerisms he sometimes had, Jason didn’t feel like he was ever in danger around Tim, even if he did sometimes eye Jason’s body with a hunger that almost looked literal. 

“Whoa! You’re stronger than you look!” Dick blinked as they shook hands, “Younger than I was expecting too.”

“So I’ve been told,” Tim said with a private smile. 

“So what do you say? What to help Jay and I find this beast?” asked Dick. 

Tim looked Dick over and then leveled a considering look Jason’s way.

“It would be my pleasure.” 

[iesnoth]

Four Times Artemis Tries to Convince Holly to go with him to Mars and the One Time he Didn’t

The First Time | The Third Time

The Second Time

The second time was during Artemis’s bimonthly check-up. This month they met on Fowl estate, now the Sunny Times Farming Community. Artemis was the only Fowl left living in the ancestral home: his parents thought he stayed behind to make sure their new tenants adhered to their eco-friendly mission statement, his friends thought he had too much history in the house to leave. Now Holly suspected his attachment had less to do with the manor, and more to do with the rocket ship in the barn.

To be fair, he didn’t live in the manor all the time: his laboratory had long since been moved, and he wasn’t one for community living. When he wasn’t sleeping on the makeshift bunk in the barn (pre-clone Artemis would never, Holly thought), he spent the night at Butler’s seaside cottage. Today she flew into the aforementioned barn, not unshielding until the strangely pneumatic doors closed behind her.

“Commodore!” Artemis’s greeting was muffled by wherever he was inside the ship. Though the design was distinctly Artemis, a dark grey color palette highlighted with gold, she saw elements of fairy engineering in the spacecraft. She wasn’t sure Artemis could invent anything without the People’s influence anymore; he was a part of them now.

And he’s leaving, she thought.

He slid out from some secret place under the craft. He wore a bespoke suit, though divested of his jacket, and the sleeves on the black button down were rolled up to the elbow. She wondered if the genius considered this “work clothes.”

“You know the drill,” she said, pretending she somehow hadn’t seen the spaceship and focusing on retrieving a swab and vial from her hip satchel.

“Right on to business then,” he said with an air of teasing.

She propelled herself up with her wings so they were at eye level. “Open up.”

He obliged, and she swabbed the inside of his cheek, then stoppered the swab in the vial. She pocketed it and withdrew an electronic syringe the size and length of her pinkie. She held out a hand, and Artemis placed his hand in her open palm.

“Any problems since our last meeting?” she asked.

“Do you mean the Netherlands?” He was prying.

She pretended not to notice. “I mean two months ago. Have there been any changes?”

He raised one eyebrow. “No.” She pushed the button on the end of the syringe and a needle popped out, stole a few drops of blood from his hand, then retreated, sealing the tube shut behind it.

“No sudden loss of energy, or insomnia?” Blue sparks danced over the tiny pinprick. She didn’t have to heal such a small wound, but she always did.

“My energy levels are fine, and I have no more insomnia than I’ve ever had.” He held up his newly healed hand. “And before you ask, my appetite has been consistent with no strange cravings, no mood swings, no phantom pains, and no growth spurts or increased aging. But you’d know all that if you’d learn to read the diagnostics on the side of that syringe.”

She rolled her eyes, making a great show of putting the syringe away without looking at it before dropping to the ground.

He caught her gaze and smiled like he was letting her in on a secret. “Come, Commodore. Let me give you a tour.”

Holly huffed. She shouldn’t encourage him— after all, didn’t she know what her answer had to be? But she was curious, and at the very least she could trade any information she gleaned about the ship to Foaly for upgrades in her tech.

Artemis waited for her at the threshold, his expression guarded. Taking a steadying breath, she jogged over to catch up.

The interior of the ship matched the exterior: sleek and utilitarian, though the colors inside were a cool, calming blue. Artemis had probably done research on what colors put people at ease, an asset for space travel.

“This is the galley,” he said, “and the central hub of the ship. The bridge is here,” he opened a door in the nose of the craft. There were few buttons, but the dash was a span of black plasma screens which Holly recognized from the holo-displays in Foaly’s center of operations. There were four ergonomic chairs in the bridge: the captain’s and co-captain’s chairs, each with their own steering column, and two on either side of these chairs, so all four  were arranged in an arc. She noticed each seat was large enough to house Butler’s bulk, but had adjustable height and seatbelt for a fairy passenger.

“I assume you see the influences I took from the People,” he said, running his hands over the dormant dash. “I also took some inspiration from the sci-fi films Myles has become smitten with. He actually helped design this room, and the laboratory.”

“You’ve told your family about this?” Holly asked as they moved on.

Artemis pursed his lips before he spoke. “I’ve told Butler.”

“And he’s OK with this?”

He shrugged. “He’s coming with me. And he’s very excited about this:” he opened a pneumatic sliding door to an exercise room. It housed an elliptical and other resistance-based equipment, since anything relying on weight would be moot in the zero gravity of space. “It will be imperative for all the crew to exercise daily in order to prevent muscle atrophy in the vacuum of space,” he explained. “Butler greatly anticipates me having to use a gym for once.”

“Crew?” Holly repeated, passing up the chance to take a jab at the young man’s less than impressive physique. “Who else is coming besides you and Butler?”

He actually looked hurt, and she wondered if she’d pushed her avoidance of his invitation too far. “If you’re going to continue to ignore the obvious,” he said, his voice clipped, “I’ve invited No.1 to come along. After his exploits on the moon, I thought this to be a natural expansion of his studies. He’s conferring with Qwan about whether they could do without him for so long. I also plan on inviting Juliet, if she ever comes home from the mystery assignment Butler won’t tell me about.”

Each of the four living compartments had an upright bed attached to the wall, a porthole, and a tiny, adjustable desk which could be accessed from the bed. If it could be called a bed. Soft, cream-colored, and puffy, they looked like cocoons. Under the zipper and layers of down were straps on the inside to keep the sleeper in place, as well as a control panel to adjust the firmness of the mattress and tightness of the straps. These space explorers would travel in comfort.

“Why only four cubicles, if you’re anticipating five?”

He smiled down at her. “I’m not anticipating five. I assumed someone would say no, and I haven’t invited everyone at once.”

Based on the series of events as he’d told them to her, he’d asked her first (excluding Butler). She wanted to be flattered, but her heart hurt.

“Artemis, I can’t go.”

His carefully maintained smile shrank. “Because of your career?”

“Don’t say it like I prioritize climbing some corporate ladder,” she said, turning away from the cubicles and back toward the galley. “And yes, it is my career. It’s my life, Artemis. I couldn’t live in space! Where would I perform the Ritual?”

“We could bring a store of acorns,” he suggested. “You could plant them on an asteroid: maybe burying them on a foreign planet would grant you different powers.”

“This isn’t one of Myles’s sci-fi movies, Artemis.”

“No, it’s better,” he argued. He crouched down to her level. She hated when he did that. It made her feel condescended to, and she hated looking him in the eyes when they fought. “Anything is possible out there,” he waved to the ceiling with one hand. “We could discover new worlds, meet new species, challenge the very fundamentals of science! We could change the universe for the better.”

She placed a hand on his left cheek, her thumb tracing under his left eye. It was blue now, forever reminding her of the friend she’d lost, then regained.

“I’d like to think I’m doing that now,” she countered. “In Haven, protecting others.”

Artemis stared into her eyes for a moment, searching for answers or perhaps for a chink in her resolve. Finally, he stood, breaking her contact. “We still have the physical tests to complete before you have to return home,” he said.

Holly followed him out, eyes on his feet as he tiptoed through the thin walkway that was a comfortable width for her. She paused at the entrance of the ship as he strode the distance of the barn, walking away from her with a long gait she’d struggle to keep up with on foot. Was she losing him again?

[aty-altiria]

Midnight

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

Word count: 1219

Universe: Harry Potter, Doctor Who

Pairings: Fem!Harry/10th Doctor

Rating: T

Themes: wrongfully accused, possession, Midnight spoilers

Summary: She was an extra passenger just like he was, the woman who’d introduced her only as ‘Holly.’ But as the Doctor quickly learns, Holly is, like him, much more than human. Especially when the other extra passenger reveals what exactly is ‘extra’ about her.

@whumptober2020

---

The Doctor couldn't move- he couldn't. There was something inside him, and it was keeping him still- his mouth mouthed without his consent as the creature within Skye turned the vacationing group against him.

"It's inside his head-"

"Its- ins-side his he-ad," he choked out as panic overwhelmed him. It, whatever it was, was going to have them thrown him off the ship. He'd be trapped on Midnight helpless before the sun- by Rassilon, he'd race through his remaining lives one after another trapped there, hours from the Tardis- he was going to die-

He couldn't move- couldn't speak to his defence- he was going to die-

Green eyes filled his vision, and he shot his gaze to meet them. Holly. At the start of the journey, she had been sitting beside him, a young woman from Earth wandering the universe to explore. She had wanderlust as powerful as his own and a desire to do. After chatting with her for a while, the Doctor had honestly been debating inviting her on a trip. He wanted to show her sights she couldn't begin to fathom; he'd put her wanderlust to good use.

The urge grew exponentially to take her with him when Holly reached up and snapped her fingers right in front of his face.

"He's waited… so long. In th-e dark. And the.. cold. And the diamonds-" The Doctor's mouth continued to be forced open, as he repeated the words of the thing within Skye. But his attention was now on Holly as her brows pinched together. Holly was the only one daring enough to approach him, the only one to slide from the group. She didn't bother with the arguments of the other passengers. Instead, she was looking. Holly was problem-solving. The only one outside himself and possibly Skye to do so.

Was that the difference? Had Skye been targeted because of her calm mind, then the Doctor because of the same? Was Holly next? No, that wasn't it- there was something different about Holly, something missing-

Holly's fingers danced in front of his face, questioning, and the Doctor's eyes widened.

Clever girl.

That was it. Holly's voice the Doctor hadn't heard it when Skye had been repeating. Not once. The girl had muted herself, had realized the connection was speech while listening to the rest of them and then she'd shut her speech down. Now she signing at him, trying to get him to respond with speaking a word herself. It was brilliant, so brilliant, but he couldn't communicate in return. All the Doctor could move was his eyes.

"I'm going to throw him out!"

Holly reached forward suddenly, and the Doctor realized what was happening. Skye had convinced the group he was possessed, she was trying to have him thrown off the ship- but Holly, the clever girl. Holly placed herself bodily between them and him. She was protecting him. She figured out the truth as much as she was able too.

"Throw her too!" Skye crooned.

"T-throw…" no NO "her t-t-to-" the Doctor struggled against the words.

Holly furiously signed at them, wary to speak so close to Skye but could not communicate her concerns. None of them could understand her, only the Doctor could. Not one of them even paused to attempt to read her signs; they were too frantic. The crowded against Holly pushed her back until her legs were backed against him, and she snarled toward them. The arguments took on a new desperation level as the Doctor tried everything he could think of to move.

He could do nothing as they grabbed for him. As they shoved Holly aside.

"Listen. That's him."

"Listen- that's him-"

The Doctor couldn't wince even when he heard Holly collapse to the ground, her head cracked against one of the chairs.

"Throw him out!"

The grabbed his arms, dragged him backward past Holly. He shot a look at her trying to hook his leg on the chairs. There was blood, Holly was bleeding, and he was being dragged bit by bit toward the doors. The yelling, the panic, the frantic energy. No one noticed as his leg was free from the chairs. No one but the Doctor saw Holly stand, and her eyes glow.

Holly lunged toward him and grabbed for his legs, her fingers latched on to his clothes, and she bared her teeth.

"It's not him!" She snarled, dragging the attention of half the group. "It's her- bloody-" she released his leg, and the Doctor felt a surge of panic as she raced toward Skye. He could do nothing but watch as Holly grabbed Skye's arm- there was a loud, brutal crack- and they both vanished on the spot.

The Doctor collapsed, strings cut. His body was free and his thoughts, firing far faster than the humans surrounding him, started to make the connection. That crack of noise, that burst of energy… Holly was a witch. But- they should be extinct by this time. Their people died out from civil war and inbreeding. Magic and all those that possessed it should be dead- except, Holly was without a doubt, a witch.

Had any of them survived? The Doctor searched for his mind, and he knew there had been one. But the only witch that had survived that had been-

The Doctor's eyes flew wide.

-Death.

He'd just be saved by the incarnation of Death. Saved by the Immortal girl. The most powerful witch to ever live. Holly Potter.

He'd almost invited Death onto the Tardis. Well- he didn't even know where to begin with that. So he didn't, instead, he released a relieved breath. Holly would survive Midnight, and whatever was hidden within Skye.

She was Death, and hopefully, he'd see her again. This time, to thank her.

He just didn't expect that to be literally four hours later after returning to the spa part of Midnight. He'd walked free from the humans who'd almost killed him to find her casually sipping a martini by the pool, a drink the resort didn't sell.

"Skye?" he asked.

"Purged of whatever it was and returned home." Holly glanced sidelong at him. The green of her eyes was brighter now, more obviously inhuman. Though that might be because she had revealed herself to him, or because he was looking closer for the things that were different. "I see you guessed my identity, took you long enough," she chuckled lightly, "you'll get it faster next time."

Fantastic. The Doctor would see Death again then. "Will I?" he asked, rocking back on his trainers, feeling quite delighted by that.

"You will, many times, actually." She set aside her drink as Donna called his name, "Till next time, Doctor… oh, do be careful in the Library though? That particular 'River' shouldn't end there."

His brows furrowed at that, but before he could ask, she was gone, and he'd have to look forward, or backward, to their next meeting.

[moodyvalentinestories]

Direction – Two | Hunt x HWU MC (Danielle)

Summary: Thomas and Danielle have a conversation. Nobody dies, surprisingly. There are tears, though.

Words: 1800+

Notes: Fair warning: I'm really embracing the Hollywood U level of insanity/ridiculousness for this fic. Because I'm living for all the over-the-top drama and stereotypical villains right about now and you'll just have to deal with it. We’re not her for logic, we’re here for entertainment, henny.

❥ Masterlist

Thomas had been surprised when the address Mr Blake had given him had turned out to be an apartment building in a not-so-glamourous part of town. Though Danielle had graduated not long ago, she wasn’t poor by any means. She’d accomplished much more than seemed possible during her time at Hollywood U; had been a part of – and even produced – multiple high-profile projects, and earned what Thomas assumed must have been a great sum of money, and yet… she lived here.

It wasn’t a terrible neighbourhood – rather close to the university and, consequently, not far from his own house – and the building looked clean and well taken care of. Still, Thomas would have expected… something flashier. Or at least something bigger.

His surprise was even bigger when Danielle let him into her apartment. It was a studio, and while not tiny, it certainly didn’t offer a lot of space. The furniture – and especially the kitchen area – looked somewhat out of place, being very clearly more expensive than someone who would normally live in such a space could ever afford.

But Thomas wasn’t here to judge her choice of home or her taste in interior decorating. So he took his eyes off the Permanent Wound poster above her desk and turned to her. “Why did you do it? Are you that desperate to work with me? Because—”

“You think I want to work with you?” she exclaimed, followed by a shrill laugh. “You’re insane. I’ve seen you work. You’re a right bastard of a director, and I’d take Phelps over you any day.”

That statement hurt his pride much more than he cared to admit. Phelps certainly was not a better director than he was! How dare she even insinuate that? “Then why aren’t you pestering him to come back to the film?”

“Because—” She took a deep breath and shook her head, seemingly changing her mind. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, I would like to know what the hell you aren’t telling me!”

She nodded. “Tea, then. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Danielle walked over to the kitchen area. Thomas didn’t sit down but followed her instead. “Miss Allen, I do not have the time—”

“I lied to you, okay?” she said, sounding choked, and when she turned around Thomas could see the tears in her eyes. “I lied. There was no fight.”

“Then wh—”

“Sit. Please?”

And she looked so young then, so vulnerable, so much like the green freshman who had her first paycheck taken away by a soulless industry giant, that Thomas couldn’t help relenting. He nodded, told her, “Earl Grey, if you have any,” and made his way over to the couch. He watched her slowly compose herself as she prepared the tea, and by the time she walked over with two cups – one black and unsweetened, one with milk and sugar – she seemed to have calmed down. She set the milk-less tea on the coffee table and handed Thomas the other cup before sitting down on the chair across from him.

“Did I tell you how I take my tea?”

She shook her head. “Centaurus Lost. You’d have coffee in the early mornings, then switch to tea around noon.”

Thomas almost dropped his cup at that. Centaurus Lost. He’d nearly forgotten. “Are there pictures from the set, too?”

Danielle bit her lip, then nodded hesitantly. “Viktor doesn’t have them, though.”

“Do you have them?” he inquired.

She looked at the floor, then nodded again. “They’re safe, I promise. I never gave anything to him. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Thomas took a sip of his tea, contemplating how to get any information out of her without making her cry again. Something was wrong, he could tell, and perhaps he had judged her prematurely. Perhaps she really wasn’t at fault. Perhaps he should withhold judgement until he heard what she had to say. If she had to say anything, that was.

“You said you lied,” he ventured.

She swallowed hard. “I did.”

“About Phelps?”

Danielle closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “He didn’t quit. He was fired.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever. Why—”

“It will in a moment,” she sighed. “They – or I suppose I should say Viktor – never actually wanted me in the film. He just wanted me to bring people in.”

Thomas groaned as the pieces began falling into place. “Because you have pull with all the people he doesn’t.”

She nodded sadly. “I got Zoe and Chris on board. Even managed to get Holly in to write the script. The only person he wanted that I couldn’t – wouldn’t – get him was…”

“Me,” he finished. “You never even came to ask me.”

“Because I knew you would say no,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, absolutely. But I would have also told you to stay away from Montmartre.”

Danielle raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks. You don’t think I realised at that point that I’ve made a mistake? But I’d already signed the contract.”

“Fair enough,” Thomas conceded. It wasn’t like he could tell her she could have come to him for help. “So, at some point, Phelps comes in.”

“Yes, because we did need a director, and he’s done good enough work for Viktor in the past. Not who he had wanted, but better than no one, I suppose.”

He didn’t ask why Montmartre would have wanted him. Or Holly Chang, or Chris Winters, or Zoe Rodriguez. It was quite obvious – a show of power. Now that the hierarchy of the Silver Circle had been destroyed, he could have it all. Thomas should have known that it wouldn’t be long until a new problem would emerge.

What he didn’t quite understand, however, was how Montmartre had come to be in possession of that photograph. And, most certainly, others as well. The most logical explanation would have been that Danielle had been blackmailed first. If her time at the university was any indication, there was plenty of blackmail material to be found about her. And though Thomas didn’t want to believe she would throw him under the bus like that—

“Oh, hell no,” she said, interrupting his train of thought. “I cannot believe you would even think that I could – do you really think so little of me?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to think? Clearly, he has something on you, and who could blame you—”

“Oh, fuck you, Thomas,” she snarled and got up from her chair, nearly knocking it over. She walked to her desk to retrieve something from her purse and returned with her wallet a few seconds later, slamming it on the coffee table. “His stupid niece found this.”

“Your wallet?” Thomas asked. Now he was really confused. What did her wallet have to do with any of this?

“Open it.”

“Why—”

“Just open it,” she snapped.

He picked up the small leather purse and unfolded it, only to see that picture from the Fairytale Kingdom Formal he’d been sent in the ID window. “So he had a picture of us dancing. He’s got to have more; he wouldn’t risk being reported over so little proof.”

She nodded. “Slide it out.”

Thomas did as she told him and nearly gasped when he saw the photo behind it. It was from the same night, only a few hours later, and it appeared that he was kissing her. “This never happened.”

“Yes, it did. You found me in the rain, after my fight with Bianca, and we danced, and—”

“I remember,” he interrupted her. Of course he did. That was not a night he would forget, though he did bury the memory all the way in the back of his mind. “But I never kissed you. I would never!”

Danielle took the wallet from his hands and looked at the photo for a while before saying, “No, but I would.”

“You didn’t. I think I would remember.”

She rolled her eyes. “And I’d think you’d remember that it was just your cheek – no matter what it looks like in the photo.”

He did remember that. He also remembered repeatedly touching his cheek on the way home and wondering why the hell he had allowed her to do that. He asked himself that same question now – but there was no use dwelling on it. “Does he have any more?”

“Some from Sundance. The one May Gordon’s published before. They’re not bad on their own, but…”

“Damn it, Danielle! You should have told me as soon as you knew he had them!”

“Told you what? That I’ve ruined your life? That I’m exactly as stupid as you always said I was? No thanks. It’s not like it would have changed anything.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I am. I wish I’d never kept those stupid pictures. I should have just burnt them or something.”

Thomas was not prepared for how much he disagreed with that notion. Though, logically, it would be better if those pictures didn’t exist, he didn’t want them to be gone. The Fairytale Kingdom Formal that particular year had been the only one he’d ever even remotely enjoyed. Still… “Why didn’t you? Why keep them in your wallet?”

Danielle smiled ruefully. “Because I’m sentimental. Why do you think I still live here?”

“Still? Is this…?”

She nodded. “The apartment I moved into when I decided to live off-campus. Yeah. I never could part with it. And it’s not like I need more space right now. I spend most of my time on set, anyway.”

“You’ll have to part with it someday. The building might be demolished, or even just sold.”

“Oh, it was sold. To me.”

Thomas blinked. “You bought this whole building because you wanted to keep your old apartment?”

“I told you I’m sentimental,” she shrugged. “Besides, it’s a gold mine. I mean, so close to campus? And not a complete dump? It’s perfect.”

They were quiet for a while, unsure what else there was to be said. Thomas knew he would have to comply with Viktor’s demands for the time being, and Danielle seemed incredibly reluctant to speak – likely for fear of upsetting him in any way. Eventually, he broke the silence.

“You said you had photos from the set of Centaurus Lost…”

She looked up at him wide-eyed. “I… I do. And… some others, too.”

“Can I see them?”

He wasn’t sure what drove him to ask. But, surely, it would be good to know what else could get out there… that was the only reason. He just wanted to know if there was anything else that could ever be used against him. Maybe he’d even make her destroy everything. He knew he wouldn’t, though. Because Thomas, too, had a sentimental side.

Tags: @lilyoffandoms​ @trappedinfandoms​ @flyawayboo​ @oneemofungirl​ @alleksa16​ @silversparrow02​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ @alj4890​ 

[letterboxd]

Satisfied?

We examine what Letterboxd reviews of Hamilton reveal about the musical’s cultural currency in 2020.

In this absolutely insane year, when our love of movies feels helpless in the face of pandemic-induced economic collapse, some extremely good decisions are being made on behalf of audiences. Studio Ghibli on streaming platforms. Virtual screenings to support art house cinemas. Free streaming of many important films about Black experience. And: Disney+ releasing the filmed version of Hamilton: An American Musical—recorded at the Richard Rodgers Theater in 2016 with most of its original Broadway cast—a year ahead of schedule, on Independence Day weekend.

“Superlative pop art,” writes Wesley of the filmed musical. “Hamilton wears its influences and themes on its sleeve, and it’s all the better for it. Lin-Manuel Miranda and his team employ an unlikely cocktail of not only hip-hop and showtunes, but also jazz (‘What’d I Miss?’), British-Invasion pop-rock (‘You’ll Be Back’), folk music (‘Dear Theodosia’) and Shakespeare (‘Take a Break’) in service of developing an impressively vast array of themes. This is a testament to the power of writing, an immigrant narrative, a cautionary tale about ambition, a tragic family drama, and a reevaluation of who decides the narrative of history.”

2016 may only be a half-decade ago, but it feels like an eon in American political years. With theaters dark and America’s long record of racism under urgent scrutiny, the complex smash-hit lands back in the spotlight at an interesting time. Is Hamilton “the most offensive cultural artefact of the last decade”, as Lee writes? Or “timeless and wholly of the moment”, as Tom suggests? The answer, according to a deep read of your Letterboxd reviews, is “all of the above”.

First things first: why now?

Sophie has a theory:

“Disney executive: Hey we’re losing a lot of money because our parks are closed. How do we start making money again?

Other Disney executive: It might be nice, it might be nice… to get Hamilton on our side.”

Sure, business. Still, it’s historically unprecedented that a Broadway show of this caliber (a record-setting sixteen Tony nominations, eleven wins, plus a Grammy and a Pulitzer) would be filmed and released to the public while it’s still, in a Covid-free universe, capable of filling theaters every night. Will people stay away when Broadway reopens because they’re all Disney+’d out?

No chance, reckons Erika. “I’d still kill to see Hamilton live with any cast… I get why producers are afraid that these videos might hurt ticket sales, but I’m fucking ready to buy a ticket and fly to NY one day just to see as many shows as I can after watching this.”

Not every musical fan has the resources to travel, often waiting years for a touring version to come near their hometown. And even if you do live in a town with Hamilton, the ticket price is beyond many; a daily lottery the only way some of us get to go. So Holly-Beth speaks for many when she writes: “I entered the Hamilton lottery every day for almost two years but I never got to be in the room where it happens… however, this 4K recording of the original cast will do very nicely for now! Finally getting to see the context and performances after obsessing over the music for years was so, so satisfying.”

“Finally” is a common theme. Sydnie writes, “I love this musical with every fiber of my body and it was an extraordinary experience finally getting to watch it in Australia”. Flogic: “To finally be able to put the intended visuals to a soundtrack that I’ve had on repeat for such a long time: goosebumps for 160 minutes.” Newt Potter: “Now I fully understand people’s love for this masterpiece of a musical!”

I’ve got a small query for you.

Where’s the motherfucking swearing? Unsurprisingly, Disney+ comes with some limitations. For Hamilton, it’s the loss of a perfectly placed F-word.

“I know Disney is ‘too pure’ to let a couple of ‘fucks’ slip by,” writes Fernando, “but come on, it’s kind of distracting having the sound go out completely when they sing the very satisfying ‘Southern Motherfucking Democratic Republicans!’ line.”

Will agrees: “Disney cutting ‘motherfucking’ from ‘Washington on Your Side’ felt like sacrilege akin to Mickey Mouse taking an eyebrow pencil to the Mona Lisa.”

Nevertheless, sings Allison:

“Even tho Disney stripped the story of its f***s, Don’t think for a moment that it sucks.”

(Yes, she has a vegan alert for Hamilton.)

Does it throw away its shot?

The crew filmed two regular shows in front of live audiences, with additional audience-less sessions for a dolly, crane and Steadicam to capture specific numbers. The vast majority of you are satisfied. “It’s the most engaging and expertly crafted life filming I’ve seen since Stop Making Sense,” writes ArtPig. “The film does an incredible job of placing you right in the action. It feels like the best seat you could get in the theater. You can see the sweat and spit.”

“Translates perfectly onto the small screen,” agrees Ollie. “There’s a level of intimacy that feels hard to replicate in any other filmed production. We see those close ups, the passion and gusto behind every actor’s performance.”

“Shockingly cinematic for something filmed on such a small stage,” is Technerd’s succinct summary, while Paul praises director Thomas Kail: “He knows when to back away along with moving nearer when appropriate, and the choices always serve to govern the power and stamina of the performances.”

Though cast members’ voices were recorded on individual audio tracks, Noah had a few quibbles with the sound quality. “Some of the audio capture is off in the recording, sometimes voices being too soft or too loud. It’s not immersion breaking, but it is noticeable enough to irk me a little in pivotal moments. Some of the shot composition doesn’t fully work either. Of course nothing is going to be as good as seeing it in person.”

Robert, recalling another recent cinematic escapade of musical theater, lets his poetry do the talking:

“This will do for now until the true movie’s made, Though if Hooper directs, there’ll be an angry tirade.”

I think your pants look hot.

Hamilton fans have their cast favorites, but something about being able to see Jonathan Groff’s spittle and Leslie Odom Jr’s scowls in 4K has you losing it all over again. Several specific shout-outs we enjoyed:

“Daveed Diggs the Legend! Go watch Blindspotting (2018), it’s one of the best movies ever!” —Kyle

“It’s hard to believe anyone will ever top Leslie Odom Jr. as Aaron Burr. I already loved him from the original cast recording, but seeing his full performance in all its glory was just godly.” —Erika

“Thankful that it was made possible for me to view with such clarity the phenomenon that is Renée Elise Goldsberry and spectacular Phillipa Soo.” —Thea

“Daveed Diggs was electrifying and Jonathan Groff was absolutely hilarious. If they interacted together the stage would’ve combusted from the sheer will of their talent.” —Nick

This is not a game.

On one hand, the release of Hamilton is sweet relief for music theater nerds riding out the pandemic. A generation of kids knows every word by heart, rapping (this version of) American history like it’s no thing. On the other, the Obama-era musical already feels behind-the-times, even for many Hamilton lovers, and the filmed version has brought that into sharp focus.

“I listened to the OG cast album about 50 times when it came out, the production is about as good as I’d always hoped,” writes Josh. “Since then however there’s been a very important and broader reckoning with the failures of neoliberalism and the Obama years ([from] which this has to be the most emblematic piece of art) and for me personally a drifting further to the left that has resulted in a very different relationship with the material. So my feelings today are a bit more complicated.”

“Hamilton is extremely non-committal about its politics,” writes Sting. “It doesn’t examine much of what Hamilton dictated besides ‘he wants complete financial control of the country’ (which would sound like a fucking supervillain in any other context, including reality).”

That lack of political commitment, reckons Morgan, is what helped Hamilton as a musical become so popular: “It’s fun. It’s catchy. It interweaves trendy and socially relevant artistic tools to infer a subversive subtext, while simultaneously sanitizing and, at times, flat out fabricating the historical narrative and downplaying the brutality of the true origin story, for the sake of appeasing those in power. Classic Bill Shakespeare stuff.”

History has its eyes on you.

Much criticism lies with the fundamental storytelling decision to make a modern ruckus about America’s Founding Fathers, the men (including Alexander Hamilton) who in the late eighteenth century united the thirteen colonies and co-wrote the Constitution. Undisputed titans of history, they also have blood on their hands, and HoneyRose writes that the musical “glorifies these men, and paints them as self-sacrificing heroes, and honestly normalizes and validates slavery, as well as the behavior of slave owners.”

Stevie, who saw the Broadway production as well as the filmed version, confesses: “I’ve tried (I’ve really tried) to understand what makes people lose their minds over this but I’m still completely baffled by the hype… These were horrible men and a romanticism of them through song and dance just seems entirely misguided.”

Sean is not convinced that Hamilton is a hagiography. “I can’t imagine anyone watching all of this and thinking it paints a portrait of the Founding Fathers as anything other than childish, greedy, venal and self-aggrandizing.” Wesley agrees: “I don’t think Hamilton is trying to be a history lesson, so much as a lesson about how we think about history. It’s a compelling human story told in a revolutionary way.”

That “revolutionary way” is the musical’s central conceit: that of a cast-of-color playing the white founding fathers as they bumble towards independence. Journalist Jamelle Bouie, who regards the musical as “fun, exciting, innovative and, at points, genuinely moving,” wrestles with the “celebratory narrative in which the Framers are men to admire without reservation. Through its casting, it invites audiences of color to take ownership of that narrative, as if they should want to take ownership of a narrative that white-washes the history of the revolution under the guise of inclusion.”

It’s complicated for Matt, too: “It’s widely agreed upon that the show encapsulates the Obama era better than anything, how it coddles white liberals with a post-racial vision of history in a superficial sense, overlooking the insidious and oppressive systems that they benefit from (hearing the audience clap to ‘Immigrants, we get the job done’ unsettled me). Of course hopefully its legacy will be that it opened up more Broadway roles for POC. But I really think that the show doesn’t make Broadway more appealing and accessible to POC, it just makes hip hop more accessible to white people, a launching pad of course to listening to Watsky or something.

“No hate though to anyone that’s completely in love with this, it’s definitely worth seeing despite any hang ups.”

I wanna build something that’s gonna outlive me.

The story doesn’t end, just because the music does. Kai_Kenn has a suggestion: “I have been a part of discussions that dissect the culture that created Hamilton, as well as the culture that Hamilton created, and whether or not Hamilton appropriately addresses the modern issues [that] the cult following proposes it does.

“This is an ongoing discussion that I am trying to be an active listener in and, if you consider yourself to be a conscientious consumer of art, you should too.”

Noah is on board with that: “Reflecting on the past and focusing on the future are not two mutually exclusive actions. Both are a must, regardless of who you are or what you do. A five-star experience in a four-and-a-half-star film. I think that’s just fine.”

Related content

Want to see more of the key cast? Watch Daveed Diggs in ‘Blindspotting’; Renée Elise Goldsberry in ‘Waves’, Jonathan Groff repeat his role as Kristoff in ‘Frozen 2’, Lin-Manuel Miranda in ‘Mary Poppins Returns’, Leslie Odom Jr. in ‘Harriet’, Phillipa Soo in the forthcoming ‘Broken Hearts Gallery’, Christopher Jackson in the forthcoming ‘In The Heights’, Jasmine Cephas Jones in ‘The Photograph’, Okiereriete Onaodowan in ‘A Quiet Place II’ and Anthony Ramos in ‘Monsters and Men’ and ‘A Star is Born’.

Ways to support the Black Lives Matter movement

Official Black Lives Matter’s Resources

Teenagers that have ‘Hamilton’ stuff on their bedroom walls

Films where they mention ‘Hamilton’