#houdini talks writing

[mostlyinthemorning]

Thank you for the tag and the lovely compliment @rmd-writes!

I think that every character I write will always have elements of David and Patrick in them, but I'm happy to know that they don't overwhelm the page.

Fanfic is such a great place to start writing because you can do anything you want when it comes to storyline or setting but the character work (which I think is the hardest part of writing original fiction) has been done by someone else.

Having said that, I really found there was a freedom in getting to write original characters who aren't David and Patrick. David in particular, is a big character who overreacts to everything - writing David is easy, mentally put on some high-end fashion and turn the dial to 11. As much as I forced David and Patrick into every situation under the sun, there's a freedom in writing characters who are more restrained, who are interested in different things, who respond differently.

There are a million different resources about using character sheets and finding pain points and all of that, but for me, the most important questions are "how do the characters react to the situation they're in?" and "how do they react to each other?" If you can figure that out, or even the starting point, then you can build from there. At the beginning, you may question every reaction your character has to see if you think it's too much like a fic character and then have them take a different path, but once they start to emerge on the page, they will make their own decisions and they will be different and they will be great.

When you live with fic characters, it seems obvious how their emotions and reactions are portrayed on the page, but to an outside audience, those characteristics won't be as defining, because the broader audience won't have lived and breathed fic the same way that you do.

One last comment specifically for you @rmd-writes is that I've seen you write across different fandoms and I'm confident that your David and Patrick are not written the same way as your TK and Carlos. If you can jump to different fandom characters and understand how to write them well, you can do the same with original characters, you just have to learn who the OCs are and what they want.

Anyway, write the story! It will be fabulous and and when you're done, find a great editor who can help you sand the edges, because that will make all the difference!

hi lola! for you :)

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

⚠️Which wip your most likely to finish or update next?

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

hello ada! thanks for the ask! congratulations on posting the first chapter of the time-loop au!

1. what's a story you'd love to write but haven't started yet?

i answered this previously and said my neighbourhood dispute, season 1 canon divergence for 911 lone star, but i'm ALSO gonna cheat and say that i've had an original fiction idea bubbling away for almost six months now and i need to write down somewhere or i'm gonna go nuts.

the hardest part is getting the characters to reveal themselves to me - i don't have a firm grip on their personalities and i keep getting paranoid they're morphing into tk or carlos or alex or jake. like i can't get them to just be. themselves. 🚨if you or anyone else on this blessed website has made the leap from fic writer to original fiction i would LOVE to hear about your experience🚨

2. which WIP will i finish next?

sorry, changed this q slightly because i'm working on 4 concurrently. i think call me (with @rmd-writes) will be posted next. then (i hope) never too late, considering all that needs to happen is that it needs to be edited.

it will be a race to the finish line for the ring-in 2.0 and eurotrip. given how things have been tracking with eurotrip i'd say it will lose that race, but you never know.

i have 9 chapters left to write for eurotrip (and probably another 100k).

the ring-in 2.0 is likely going to be 7 or 8 chapters (and probably around 70-80k, like the original).

cause of action will get done when it gets done. i'm not too worried about it because it's my stress free zone rn.

3. How many WIPs are you working on?

3 actively (the ring-in 2.0, eurotrip, cause of action) plus never too late which is finished but is haunting my dreams and needs to be edited.

wip ask game

[softspiderling]

genuinely don’t understand how think you’re a genius is still getting notes and catch me if i go is getting nothing???? like what😭

im NOT complaining that genius is still getting notes but im def complaining that houdini is NOT bc i just don’t understand it

[idiopathicsmile]

you know what really grinds my gears?

okay, bear with me: so as you may know, harry houdini and arthur conan doyle were friends, at least for a while.

by the early 1920s, both arthur conan doyle and acd's wife jean, aka lady doyle, believed whole-heartedly in spiritualism, talking to ghosts and all of that. (sidenote: this was of course right on the heels of a devastating world war and a devastating pandemic, both of which had created a huge population of grieving people, so spiritualism was having a moment.)

lady doyle sincerely thought she had the ability to go into a trance state and pass along messages in writing from the dead. she offered to do this for houdini. houdini agreed.

lady doyle attempted to channel houdini's late mother. she basically drew a cross at the top of the paper and filled it with generic platitudes addressed to "harry." houdini's mom was jewish and didn't talk like that, so houdini knew the jig was up, even if lady doyle didn't. but not wanting to make the situation awkward, he kind of went along with it to their faces.

then acd decided to publish a glowing account of the seance, and since both he and houdini were super famous, it got a lot of attention, and letters started pouring in for houdini, asking if this was true. ultimately, houdini couldn't lie about it. so he essentially said, like, "yeah, i think lady doyle THINKS she can talk to ghosts but she absolutely can't." and it ruined his friendship with acd forever.

and then of course a lot of the people running seances weren't even well-intentioned like lady doyle, they were just simple charlatans taking advantage of traumatized people mourning loved ones. in houdini's youth, he and his wife had traveled the carnival circuit where he did an act pretending to commune with spirits, so he knew all the tricks of the trade AND he had lingering guilt over having done this, AND he was infuriated by this increasingly popular wave of con artists so he decided to assemble a team of anti-grifting grifters and together they went on the road exposing whichever spiritualists were preying on the locals.

houdini's best agent was a young woman named rose mackenberg, who donned disguises to visit the fraud de jour and then importantly sussed out what non-supernatural thing was actually happening, and then houdini would demonstrate the techniques onstage to packed audiences.

(if you want to know more, check out episode 175, "ghost racket crusade" of the podcast Criminal or read Tony Wolf's book The Real-Life Ghostbusting Adventures of Rose Mackenberg.)

but yeah, what really gets my goat is that all this happened and as far as i know, we still don't have like four seasons of a Leverage-style historical procedural about rose mackenberg and the rest of the crew having adventures in the 1920s as they unmask craven hucksters all over the united states. (what we do have, apparently, is one season of a show called "houdini and doyle" which is about the oddball friendship of two contrasting men solving sometimes-actually-supernatural mysteries, and whose premise does i think at the very least a real disservice to houdini's whole quest and also totally erases rose, who is arguably the most interesting part of this story to me.)

i am just steamed about this. steamed.

[reidrum]

wine or wine not | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: i think i love writing buildup to smut than actual smut, but i hope you guys like this lmk what you think. this was requested with the prompts "look at me when you come on my fingers" and "muttering compliments kissing down their body" and it was so much fun to write aaaaahh, my requests are open so please send more!!! guidelines in pinned <3

summary: you're hopelessly pining after spencer at a rossi party, and when you run into him in the kitchen when you're getting a refill and he asks if you want to explore the mansion with him, who are you to say no?

cw: 18+ minors dni pls, fingering, p in v, nipple play, soft!dom!spence, spencer being ridiculously hot its criminal, ooc penelope but it was for the plot, pining idiots, wine cellar sex wine cellar sex wine cellar sex, public sex, morgan and prentiss being dumb, rossi being a smug lil shit, a dumb ass title sorry i didn't know what else to name it lol

wc: 4.1k

★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★

these days rossi was always finding some reason to throw a party at his mansion. you’re not exactly sure what it was tonight, a birthday? an anniversary? regardless, you and the team appreciated the excuse to unwind, dress up, and have non murder related fun.

the sun is setting over the rolling hills the mansion is perched on, and you’re sat at a table with the girls— penelope, jj, and emily discussing penelope’s latest dating escapade. you’re trying hard to pay attention, you really are, but it proves to be difficult when you’re focused on the man showing magic tricks to the kids across the room.

you look on yearnfully as spencer pulls a coin from jack’s ear, all the kids are laughing and cheering and he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hellooo?” penelope waves a hand in front of you dramatically, “i’m getting to the good part and you’re off in space!”

you jolt back to the present, “sorry pen, i’m listening i promise. so he shows up to your door with maple syrup and feathers?”

“YES, anyways so then he’s like i have a proposition for you…” penelope continues her story but you can’t help but zone out again. your eyes drift back to boy genius as he finishes another trick for little henry before rising up to his full height. it’s in that moment his eyes meet yours and softens as he offers you a small wave. 

you return the gesture back which causes the girls at your table to look in the same direction and they come to a glaring conclusion too quickly.

“ah, that’s why you’re not paying attention. too busy ogling mr. houdini over there.” jj remarks.

“i am not!” you scoff.

“oh you so are,” emily says, “when are you going to let yourself feel your heart’s full content.”

“first of all, i can’t stand you. second of all, it’s not worth it. he would never feel the same about me.” you say as emily rolls her eyes.

this time penelope interjected, “oh don’t be so cynical. you haven’t even tried how could you even know?”

but you did know. it’s not that spencer didn’t like you, he treated you the same as any team member, but that was just it. you wanted him to see you as more. during cases you would try to impress him or make breakthroughs in the hopes he would tell you ‘good job’. a couple times you brought him coffee when you got yours, just to hear him say your name and thanks. work conversations rarely seemed to move past small talk, but you’re a little sure that’s on your part because he just made you so nervous. and like, he’s a profiler. so you’re sure to some degree he knows how you feel, and it just makes you regress into your safe hole even further because you think he’s being nice by not acknowledging it and saving you the embarrassment.

the girls knew about your harbored crush for a month now, since the last bau drinks night you got a little too truthful during truth or dare. you were much younger in comparison to your colleagues, so they offered their sympathies at your unrequited love and tried to get you to come out more and let loose.

which is one of the reasons you’re sitting in rossi’s living room, wine glass in hand, as morgan recounts the craziest date hes ever been on. the other reason, which you wouldn’t admit to anyone, was so you could admire your (not) lover from an acceptable distance and not risk embarrassing yourself.

so here you are, two glasses deep, rising up from your spot on the floor telling everyone you’re going to get a refill. your heels click against the hardwood floors all the way to the kitchen where you just so luckily run into the (your) man of the hour.

“hi.”

you were looking down at your feet as you walked to the kitchen, your head snapping up to meet the voice, “hi spencer.” you said softly.

“if you’re looking for more wine, i think emily just grabbed the last bottle,” you must have outwardly deflated as he continued, “that bad out there?”

“only so much wine can get me through penelope’s sexcapades and derek’s crazy one night stands.” you joke.

he chuckles back, “oh i know, why do you think i’m hiding out in here?”

you laugh again before an uncomfortable yet strangely comfortable silence falls between you both. unknowingly you both take turns gazing at each other, indexing the others features as if this moment would be the only chance you got.

you’re about to take your loss and leave when spencer speaks up again, “you know, i wouldn’t put it past rossi to have a secret wine cellar somewhere.”

“honestly, you’re probably right. what kind of italian just runs out of wine.”

spencer pauses slightly before saying, “do you want to see if we can find it?”

you look at his eyes again and catch a glint of mischief? concern that you’re wine-less? whatever it is, you take the bait.

“i’m game.”

—

rossi’s mansion was humongous. it was well known that he was loaded from his years in the bureau and multiple book deals, but holy shit, the rooms just seemed never ending, and none of them were a wine cellar.

“i don’t know spence, i'm starting to lose hope, and debating to revoke rossi’s italian card.”

you’re both in one of the many studies and are about to leave to find another room, when spencer notices a smaller door next to the study. he slowly opens it and peaks inside to find a descending wooden staircase. he looks at you with a smirk, “i think we just found it.”

he holds the door open and gestures you to enter first, following shortly behind you as he shuts the door. he makes sure to check that it’ll still open even after it’s shut, and you both relax a little seeing it still unlock. you move down the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying you don’t trip over your heels and fall to an embarrassing demise.

spencer descends a step behind you, trying so hard not to let his eyes wander down your bare back to the curve of your hips. once he steps off you both go in opposite directions to explore. you take in the vast amount of shelves and wine racks, taking note of how it seems to be separated by year and by type. running your fingers over the labels, you’re intrigued by a shelf with the year you were born, and pause in front of it. you reach up to a shelf that is just a smidge taller than you, hoping to grab the neck of an old wine bottle.

even in your heels you’re struggling, attempting little hops to try and reach. you’re about to give up when you feel a warm hand on your right hip, while an outstretched arm on your left seamlessly grabs the bottle and brings it down to you, “careful sweetheart, don’t wanna break that pretty head of yours.” spencer says lowly.

excuse me, what the fuck did he just say.

you inspect the bottle he so kindly brought down for you, but it’s a futile effort. you can’t even remember why you wanted to see it. all you can think about is your hands clamming up, sending threats to the wine bottle it’s holding. your mind is fogging up fast, and you’re trying to order your brain to say something instead of going mute while he’s still an inch behind you. with his hand on your hip still.

“oh god,” you start shakily, “you scared me spence.” you angle your body to the left so you can attempt to show how unbothered you are and look at his face.

good save (not).

he’s staring down at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret from you. his eyes are intently focused on you when he speaks again, “just didn’t want you to get hurt. s’all.”

with his close proximity, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating through both of your chests, hell it was so loud they could probably hear it upstairs. he’s still got you caged in front of him when he continues, “any particular reason for this bottle?”

“yeah no, i just, wanted to see what bottles of wine he had from the year i was born.” you answer, watching as spencer moves back to give you space when you turn to face him.

he nods, “did you know that wine is associated with the greek god dionysus?”

“no i didn’t, actually.”

“it’s really interesting,” he moves forward a tiny inch, “they call him the patron god of wine, but a lot of people often forget that he’s also the god of fertility and ecstasy.”

oh. “ecstasy?” you whisper confusingly.

“yes, he believes when you drink wine it gives you emotional and physical pleasure.”

“how does that even work?” you nervously laugh.

spencer reaches his arm above your head, never breaking eye contact, and grabs two wine glasses by their stems, “you wanna find out?”

with only so many words, you give another nod. he uncorks the bottle with ease and pours out two glasses, with his having a little less than yours, most likely due to his slow but steady return to drinking casually. clinking your glasses, you take a big gulp hoping it’ll satiate the building nerves. but you’re watching the way his fingers wrap around the glass, his veiny hand showing prominently and you’re unable to focus on anything else.

“you know, i’ve been running something of an observation the last few months.”

you take another small sip, starting to feel less nervous, “oh yeah, what about?”

“you.”

it took everything in you not to spit your drink out all over his suit. 

“me?”

he nods after another sip, “i’ve been watching you, and not in a creepy way i swear. but i’ve been keeping track of your habits; how you take your coffee, your tells when a case gets too much, things like that,”

that didn’t seem overtly terrible to you, you knew spencer was an observer of his environment, always seeking out patterns to aid his predictions. you’re about to speak when he cuts you off.

“i’ve also been noticing how you seem to change, when i’m in your presence.”

you feel like the sweat and nerves are just oozing out of you at this point, and he continues his verbal taunt.

“i’ve seen your breathing rate get faster,” he moves a step forward, “how your cheeks rise with the faintest red, kind of like right now,” another step forward, “and how you try to avoid looking directly at me because you think i’ll find out everything if you do.”

the room has to be at least a thousand degrees at this point, heart beating so fast it’s probably gone to the moon, and your brain just unable to have any coherent thoughts at the realization that maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

he takes one final step to close the gap between you and delicately places two fingers on the pulse point of your neck, “i couldn’t figure out your heart rate from afar,” he pauses to count, “but now that i know it, i can come to my conclusion.”

the air in your lungs has all but escaped, nowhere to be found. “and wh- what is your conclusion d- doctor reid?” your voice betraying you by dripping with anticipation.

“that i make you nervous. do you agree? do i make you nervous?” he says while you feel the hot breath of his whispers ghosting on your lips.

your mouth opens to say something and then shuts, because what the hell are you supposed to say? any and all logic has left the room, but the last working neuron works to make an unthinkable conclusion of your own. there is no way.

spencer moves his fingers to grip your chin between them, guiding your face to look directly into his copper eyes, “i asked you a question angel, do i make you nervous?”

you’re cornered, “y- yes.”

“why’s that?”

“spencer..”

“is it because you’re thinking of me the same way i think i about you?” his thumb starts tracing the outline of your lower jaw. he’s pressed right up against your chest, his other arm covertly moving to snake around your waist. the way you lean in subconsciously towards him, paired with your silence is all the confirmation he needs.

the pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, dragging it downwards a little. there’s a hitch in his breath when his eyes flicker from your lips back up to meet your eyes again. he quietly mumbles, “can i?”

your eyes widen slightly, relishing in the way his arms are holding you firm and steady. this was about to really happen. you’d been pining after him all this time, believing you were destined for unrequited love. but as spencer stands in front of you, looking at you as if he’d been poisoned and the only antidote is your lips, you can’t help but wonder if there’s been a similar weight on his side that’s been holding him back too.

so you nod once again, and trust your voice this time, 

“yes.”

you’re fully expecting him to go into it full force, and kiss you like a man starved. but he lets the premonition bubble for a little longer as he so agonizingly leans down and closes the gap, teasing you with the ghost of his lips on yours without making contact. he waits a moment, and just as he predicted your subconscious betrays you again and you impatiently lean up in an attempt to meet your lips together. spencer can’t help but smile before he softly pressed himself against you.

the feeling of his mouth on yours is something you can only describe as cosmic, like a star exploding into a supernova, emitting a powerful and luminous show of energy. it’s all consuming, the light reaching every neuronal end of your body and electrifying it ten times over. your hands reach up to tangle in his curly hair and he lets out the faintest whimper, spurring you on to grab it more earnestly.

spencer loses all restraint. his hands begin furiously mapping out your body, running up and down your back, reaching down to grasp a handful of your ass. he moves his hands down further to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you to sit on the counter behind you. spencer slots himself between your legs and continues kissing you, his mouth marking a hot trail to your neck as he mutters between, “is this okay?”

“please don’t stop.” you moan softly.

his fingers move to deftly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulder, mirroring the movement on the other side while continuing to work his down your neck. he slides the dress far enough down to expose your chest, immediately taking the swollen nub into mouth and running circles around it with his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp at the sudden warmth, whimpers leaving your throat. he repeats the motion to the other one as you cradle his head closer in an attempt to keep him there, as if spencer had any plans of leaving.

he moves his mouth back up to meet yours again, in a lust filled attack sending shock waves straight to your core. you move your fingers to work the buttons of his dress shirt and spencer moves his hand further south and under the hem of your dress, something you don’t notice until his thumbs are rubbing circles onto the plush of your inner thighs. it makes you falter on his last button as he pushes your legs farther apart,  inches closer to where you desperately need him.

spencer looks directly into your eyes as his thumbs reach up to hook onto the side of your panties and slowly move them down your legs. he groans outwardly at the resistance caused by your slickness, “all this for me, baby?”

you’re rendered speechless watching spencer and his ministrations but he continues, “you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?” his fingers are less than an inch away from your cunt, “i see you walk around the office in those tight pants, your hair and makeup all done, and those blouses jesus,” he reaches your entrance and dives in to collect your wetness, you brokenly moan as he begins to spread it all over. “couldn’t tell if you hated me for the longest time.”

“c- could never hate you.” you whine.

“i know baby,” he slides his middle finger into your hole, “just imagine the fun we could’ve had if we figured this out earlier. but it’s okay, we have all the time now.” he sets a steady rhythm before inserting his ring finger, actively working you towards a barreling orgasm.

“spencer, fuck, oh god.”

“you’re so fucking wet, bet you’re gonna come soon, right? gonna make a mess on my hand?” he baited.

you’re in shambles, one hand deathly squeezing onto one shoulder the other turning white from the grip you held on the counter. the moans won’t stop falling out of you, he works his fingers so skillfully within you it’s impossible to hold any resolve when he curves upwards and hits that spot.

your head tilts back, reeling from the intense pressure coil building inside you, the peak about to hit you any moment now. spencer uses his free hand to move your head back down, “look at me when you come on my fingers.”

that was all it took for the white hot to ravage through you, engulfing every sense and leaving you breathless. he continues moving his fingers through your orgasm, watching as you come back down to him. you don’t waste a second reaching for his belt to unfasten it, slipping your hand down to palm him through his boxers. he moans in your ear as he feels you slip inside, your small hand moving up and down, and getting impossibly harder when you take your hand back up to spit on it to then return to your movements.

you take the moment to lean into his neck and leave bites of your own, finding his sweet spot right behind his ear and sucking hard. spencer’s hands have taken a spot on your lower back beneath your dress, pressing so hard with his fingertips you know there’ll be evidence of this night tomorrow.

“spence..” you mutter in the crook in the neck.

“yeah baby?” he whispers back.

“can you fuck me now?”

he preens at your boldness, and wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down enough to fully free himself. he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter before pulling his length out and giving it a few strokes. he lets it glide between your folds, gathering your wetness as lubricant as it hits your clit. both of you are panting hard realizing the anticipation has led to this moment. spencer positions himself at your entrance, never breaking eye contact with you, and watches your face drop into a perfect ‘oh’ as he pushes in.

spencer is absolutely wrecked as he hears your breathing pick up, reveling in the vice grip your cunt has on him. you’re no better above him as you’ve broken eye contact to stare at where the two of you connect, watching as he disappears into you and the feeling of being so full overtakes you and you’re letting out soft expletives. he bottoms out and stalls for a minute, waiting for you to signal that you’re okay for him to move. in the time he’s waiting, he takes a moment to really look at your face, how absolutely ruined you look, your cheeks are deeply flushed, hair flying in every direction, and he can’t help but tell you, “you look so pretty.”

your eyes soften as you gaze back at him and nod slightly, and he pulls back all the way to ease in again experimentally. once he hears you moan out loud at the movement, and feels you tighten even more around his cock, he loses any and all restraint he’d been holding onto this entire night.

his hips pick up the pace in harsh snaps to your core, sending ripples of pleasure all over you. your arms are wrapped around his neck attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you, “spencer…fuck…” you drawl with a whine.

“i got you baby, gonna take good care of you, promise,” he says back in between grunts. the sentiment causes you to squeeze on his cock again as he attempts to continue, “if you keep…fuck…keep squeezing me like that i’m n- not gonna last long.”

one hand in his hair and the other leaving dark red scratches on his back, you feel your second orgasm of the night hastily creep up on you. he can tell you’re close and quickens his pace as he thumbs your clit. you moan his name out once more before reaching your peak, feeling like your body is on fire as he continues to fuck you through it. 

spencer feels his own release building up, “wh- where should i..?”

“inside, i’m on the pill just please come inside me.”

it was more than enough for spencer’s movements to stutter as he released his hot load in you, groaning out loud as he finished.

he slows to a half, still hilted inside of you but softening post orgasm. you’re both breathing heavily as you look up at each other and take in the other’s fucked out faces. spencer presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his own on it, “that was..”

“intense,” he quirks his eyebrows at you, “in a really really good way.” you add quickly.

he smiles down at you, “i wasn’t kidding, what i said earlier. i think about you an embarrassingly high amount each day. i’d love to take you out and make this a real thing.”

“yeah?” you gape incredulously, “thought i was the one embarrassing myself if you were able to notice all those things i did when you were near me.”

he laughs, “no, no it was endearing, definitely made it easier to be as forward as i was tonight knowing you wouldn’t freak out.”

you’re about to respond when you hear the door to the cellar open, you’re both hidden from view but know it’s only a matter of seconds before someone catches you. you both look at each other in panic as spencer pulls out of you, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants. you grab your panties from the floor and begin to pull them up your legs when he notices his come dripping down your thighs. he swiftly gathers the release on his fingers and shoves it back inside you, causing you to let out a near pornographic moan as he pulls up your underwear all the way.

“did you guys hear that?” a voice sounding like emily said.

“see this is why i don’t do big houses like this, too many creepy ass noises.” morgan.

“mansion,” rossi corrects, “and for a couple of profilers, you both are stupid if you don’t know what that sound was.”

your eyes widen to match spencer’s, you’ve been caught.

“was it a mouse or something?”

“no more like, bunnies,” he joked with an innuendo, “come on, i found the bottle i was looking for, let the bunnies do their thing so they can leave and go home to do whatever it is bunnies do.”

“you’re a weird old man david…” emily muttered.

the door closes and you both let out a big breath, and burst into a fit of laughter, “how the hell are we gonna show our faces to him on monday?” you whine.

“that is a monday us problem,” he starts, “but right now, i think it’s time for me to take you home.” he winks.

two stuffed bunnies show up on yours and spencer’s desk on monday. you’re both redder than a tomato as rossi chuckles when he walks by. prentiss and morgan are still confused.

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Two parts, one day- Two Jay's Thoughts: Extended Cut, one day- LETS GO!!

We learn a two things:

Juno probably isn't one to often remember his dreams

Nureyev has insomnia

"Juno trusted him" which is VASTLY different than the Juno we know from canon, who did not trust Rex Glass, who did not want to trust Peter Nureyev, who had to trust Duke Rose.

We learn some more things:

Buddy (as has been established) is a heavy drinker, possibly alcoholic. (I will be characterizing her as one, mark my words)

Jet is at the bar, and he works as a bouncer. Which makes sense. He is "The Big Guy".

Bud calls on Jet when things are dire. So she trusts him.

And Jet has experience handling shipments and pirates. This I think is a fun detail because I had to reread the Tools of Rust transcript for a quote and M'Tendere mentions that Jet was a smuggler during the War.

"wore her heart and its many thoughts on her sleeve like a badge of honor for her humanity" IT IS ABOUT THE HUMANITY!! IT'S ABOUT TRUST!!! AND LOVE!!

also we learn that Rita is an ugly crier. nice. (same girlie pop, same)

"Juno had known her for years, and she had never stopped talking once." PRO YAPPER ALERT!! but seriously, when the bubbly best friend goes quiet and things turn dark for them, shit has hit the fan. repeat: shit has hit the fan!!

Rita drinks milk. I- as a lactose intolerant boy, tummy ache girlie- can't relate. smh.

Buddy croaking = my hc that she is surprised she even remembers what a frog's croak is anymore. winter has been here so long...

"Rita, look at me. Rita. DAMMIT, I need you to tell me what happened to him." oooooooOOOOOO- Juno's scared. he's on edge here. hackles raised. his heart has already dropped to ground, already in his feet. he knows what's coming. he doesn't want to hear it. he has to. (on a personal note: my cat got seriously sick 3 years ago, my parents were driving home early from their vacation to deal with it, and the whole time i was waiting for them to come home, my heart was in my feet. on the ground. I told my partner at the time "they're not telling me something" and sure enough- he was gone. i already knew what was coming, already knew the truth, i just didn't want to hear it.)

RAGHHHHH- I FORGOR THAT HE DESCRIBED ALL THAT- "And then he realized. He knew that expression. It was nearly second nature to him. He had seen it every morning on his own face in the mirror after Benten had- And then he knew." FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

"No. No it can't-" Denial.

LADIES AND GENTS AND ALL- WE'VE REACHED WAIT FOR ME!!!!!!

"Rita said he called your name." = "She called your name before she went"

"And Juno didn't even hear him. He hadn't been paying attention. How long had he been calling? How long had Juno been ignoring him?" = "But I guess you weren't listening"

"He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so horrible about himself." juno didn't feel like shit all the time with Nureyev, he was motivated to fix spring because of Nureyev. augggggh- writing about juno's depression will never not be cathartic for me in some way

"before a different wave of feeling crept over him" ANGER.

"He was going to get his husband back if it was the last thing he ever did." has me thinking about Olivia Rodrigo "i wanna get him back" lol

"Jet nodded sagely. [he doesn't WANT to tell Juno anything about this] "This is true. I walked that road with a friend of mine years ago, trying to save people from unwise decisions.'" [FRIEND?? WHAT FRIEND JET??]] (i know who, you know who Zeph, no one else does and they'll just have to wait and see lol)

"Buddy looked at Juno again, an odd kind of hollow despair marking her face, like she saw something in Juno's set jaw and bright eyes that made her want to disappear. [oh- oh Bud- Zeph you almost make me feel guilty for the things I'm going to do to her. almost.] "I know what you're thinking, Juno, and it won't work. I've tried. Believe me.'" [ALMOST.]

"There was a defiant flame rising in him now, melting the shards of his broken heart back into a semblance of hope." This line takes on a whole new meaning after the discussion we had earlier today lol. smth smth tho- about the shards of his heart reminding me again of Glass but also for some reason the Chimes? From Freedom in Chains?

"How far are you willing to go for your husband?'" = "Just how far would you go for her?"

"'To the ends of the fucking earth.'" = "To the end of time/ To the end of the earth" FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK (also again with the fire, "The flame grew into a wildfire." eheh- ahahahhaahha- stg you silly kids are going to hate me for what I'm cooking, Zeph is biting me it's that evil.) (also also, "Wait for Me" is one of my favorites. so fucking good. so lovesick. so fucked. so doomed by the narrative.)

JET ON GOD BROTHER- "'Very well then. Pack your things. I will take you to where the road to Hadestown begins. If you are going to make stupid choices, I will at least make sure you can begin making them safely.'" </3 hits harder and harder (again) knowing what I have planned

and BUDDY BABE!! She's walked that road Juno, she's tried, and failed! she- YEAH EXACTLY JET!! "'And yet you took the same course of action all those years ago, Buddy. What does that say about you?'" IT'S HER TRAUMA!! IT'S HER FEAR!! HER COPING!! SHE FOUND THIS FAMILY AND STITCHED IT TOGETHER AND SHE CAN'T LOSE ANYMORE, NOT ANYMORE, PLEASE DON'T TAKE HER ONLY REMAINING FAMILY AWAY!!

Juno the deer in the headlights- Buddy bitter and resentful for ~mysterious reasons~- Jet stern, yet passing minimal judgment on Juno but heavier judgment on Buddy- AND RITA!! the bestest bestie of best friends RITA!! can't go leaving her out, or leaving her behind!

"'Wait for me, Mista Steel! I'm comin' too!'" = "Wait for me, I'm coming/ Wait, I'm coming with you" FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK- this hurts me so much to have Rita being the one begging for Juno to wait, wait for her, she's coming with you. i love that you gave her this line. it fits. it works.

"Hang on, Nureyev. Just a little longer." PODCAST REFERENCE!! can't be bothered to find the episode it's from but I know it's from the podcast i would know that juno-ism anywhere (and if it's not a quote, then damn!!! you got me fooled)

"He was getting his husband back. At any cost." :) :)) ::))))

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 9 (?)

i've lost track by now ngl. we're at over 9,000 words so i get a pass. this part is. ouchie central. so i am expecting a lot of people yelling at me in the comments and tags. this is fun for me.

LETS GO TPP CREW, ROUNDING THE CORNER WITH MY TPP CREW: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini (@the-private-eye i'm tagging you too bc i can :))

The silence was what finally woke him.

Juno had been solidly asleep, dreaming about things he couldn’t quite remember but that made his stomach twist. When he finally opened his eyes, the room was abnormally quiet. No rain, barely any wind, and… he rolled over to check. Nureyev wasn’t next to him in bed. That was not entirely out of the ordinary, as his insomnia often took him on long walks through the woods as he tried to find sleep, but this morning it set his teeth on edge. Something about it felt…  wrong. Like he had walked out of the door for the last time, and would never come back. 

Juno shook the thought away. It was a ridiculous notion. He loved him too much to let that happen. If Nureyev was having trouble, or looking to leave, he would have told him. Juno trusted him.

He dressed and washed his face and walked downstairs to grab some breakfast before starting to get the bar together for opening. Hopefully, the rest of the day would pass without incident, and he could chalk this nauseous, nervous feeling up to a nightmare that he couldn’t quite remember.

It was what he saw at the bar while half-way down the stairs that really made him feel sick to his stomach.

Buddy was leaned over a half-empty bottle of whisky, rubbing the bridge of her nose, tear tracks shiny on her face. That bottle had been full when he had replaced it on the shelf last night. She never drank this early in the morning, and never that much. Always said it made her unfit to serve the public or interact with any decent human being. Jet, the man she had employed as a bar bouncer when times were better, was standing next to her, a large hand on her shoulder. He was crying too. Buddy only called him when things were drastic, like when their latest whiskey shipment had been stolen by pirates on its way to the bar.

And then there was Rita.

Rita, who wore her heart and its many thoughts on her sleeve like a badge of honor for her humanity, was nearly silent. She was snot-nosed and puffy-eyed, like she had been crying for hours, and said absolutely nothing outside of the occasional sniffle and a quiet request for Jet to grab her a glass of milk from the kitchen.

Juno thought he might hurl right there on the stairs. A silent Rita was new. Juno had known her for years, and she had never stopped talking once.

What the hell had happened?

He cautiously came down the rest of the stairs and approached the bar. Buddy looked up at his approach and tried to wipe some of the tears from her face just as Jet returned from the kitchen with the milk for Rita. “Good morning, Juno.”

“Hey, big guy,” Juno responded, nodding in Jet’s direction before looking at each one of the weeping figures in turn. “What happened? You guys look like hell. Did we get another snowstorm in the middle of the night or something?”

The three of them exchanged a look that Juno couldn’t quite decipher before Buddy answered.

“I think Rita can answer that question better than Jet or I can,” she croaked before downing another swig of whisky.

Juno turned to Rita and reached out to wipe a stray hair out of her face. “Hey, Rita, what happened? It’s okay, it can’t be that bad, right?”

At that, Rita burst into tears again. “It is, it really is that bad, Mista Steel! You don’t get it! It’s the worst thing! It’s about Mista Nureyev!”

Juno’s heart dropped through the floor the second she said his name. “Rita. Rita, look at me. Rita. DAMMIT, I need you to tell me what happened to him.”

Rita looked at him then, with such a look of despair and heartbreak on her face that Juno’s heart ached for her. And then he realized. He knew that expression. It was nearly second nature to him. He had seen it every morning on his own face in the mirror after Benten had-

And then he knew.

He breathed in, breathed out. Took a step back. The floor was spinning. He dropped to his knees. “No. No it can’t- no, no, no, no, this can’t be right, Nureyev can’t be…”

Rita nodded, tears still flowing steadily down her face as she clambered off the bar stool to hug Juno. “He came back after dark last night, and I thought he was actin’ real sketchy, so I watched him for a while, and then when the sun started comin’ up, he packed up some stuff and left, but I followed him, only he didn’t know, ‘cause I acted real sneaky-like, and he went to a train station that I’m pretty sure wasn’t there before, and he met these big, creepy guys, and they gave him paypawork to sign, ‘cause I think they were makin’ some kinda deal, and once Mista Nureyev signed it, he fell down and started coughin’, and then one of the big guys said somethin’ about not havin’ enough time to wait for him to die, and then the otha one pulled out a huuuuuge knife, and then he- then he-”

She burst into sobs again on Juno’s shoulder. His ears were ringing and he knew his face was deathly pale. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Buddy looked at him hollowly from the bar. “Rita said he called your name. It was the last thing he did before he… before they loaded his body up onto a train and left.”

‘He called your name. It was the last thing he did before he died.’ And Juno didn’t even hear him. He hadn’t been paying attention. How long had he been calling? How long had Juno been ignoring him? Why was he only now hearing his echo instead of his voice? How pathetic was he, that he prioritized a fucking song over his husband? What was wrong with him? But of course, as soon as he realized his problem, it was already too late to solve it. 

He never got to say goodbye.

Dimly, Juno realized he was shivering and tears were flowing down his face and Rita was apologizing profusely that she didn’t do anything to try and save him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so horrible about himself. 

Now, it was all over. He’d lost him forever, and it was all his fault.

He would never get to see Peter Nureyev again.

He sat there, curled up on the floor for a moment longer before a different wave of feeling crept over him.

No.

No.

This was not the end. He wouldn’t let it be the end.

He was going to get his husband back if it was the last thing he ever did.

He sat up, wiped the tears from his face, and grabbed Rita by the shoulders, lightly shaking her out of her self-deprecating ramble.

“Rita. Rita, look at me. I need you to tell me everything you know about the Underworld. It’s important. Really important.”

“Well,” Rita sniffled, wiping her face on the sleeves of her sky blue sweater, “I heard a while back about there bein’ a back door. A way to get in without havin’ to actually, ya know, die or somethin’.”

Jet nodded sagely. “This is true. I walked that road with a friend of mine years ago, trying to save people from unwise decisions.”

“It’s not easy though, Mista Steel. The road is reeeeeaaaaally long and difficult, and with the weatha bein’ the way is it, you could get caught in a storm and get hurt, and I don’t want you to get hurt, Mista Steel!!”

Buddy looked at Juno again, an odd kind of hollow despair marking her face, like she saw something in Juno’s set jaw and bright eyes that made her want to disappear. “I know what you’re thinking, Juno, and it won’t work. I’ve tried. Believe me.”

“I’m not going to give up on him this easily.” There was a defiant flame rising in him now, melting the shards of his broken heart back into a semblance of hope. “I can get him back. I know I can.”

Jet walked over from his perch next to Buddy and crouched on the floor next to Juno. “Rita is right, Juno. The road to Hadestown is not an easy one to take, which is why I must ask you: how far are you willing to go for your husband?”

The flame grew into a wildfire. 

“To the ends of the fucking earth.”

There was silence as Jet examined him for a moment longer, face expressionless, before letting out a small sigh and standing up again. “Very well then. Pack your things. I will take you to where the road to Hadestown begins. If you are going to make stupid choices, I will at least make sure you can begin making them safely.”

Buddy started shaking her head vehemently. “No, no, no. You can’t let him go, Jet darling, he’s just going to get himself killed too. It’s not safe.”

“And yet you took the same course of action all those years ago, Buddy. What does that say about you?”

A muscle in Buddy’s jaw twitched as she took another long swig of whiskey. Juno slowly stood up, like a prey animal caught between two predators trying to remain ignored. He desperately wanted to know what had happened between the two of them, but somehow got the impression that any requests to know would be soundly ignored. 

Buddy glared at Jet with one sharp eye, but said nothing.

Jet sighed again and put a large hand on Juno’s shoulder. “Go grab your things. We will leave in two hours.”

“Wait for me, Mista Steel! I’m comin’ too! I gotta go get my stuff and then I’ll go with ya! Lil old Rita isn’t as fast as she used to be! Wait up!”

Juno sprinted up the stairs, Rita’s voice carrying after him. And in spite of the loss he had just suffered, he was grinning.

Hang on, Nureyev. Just a little longer.

He was going to get his husband back. At any cost.

[kefiteria]

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.

A comfort letter from Scaramouche, just for you.

So, I've noticed you've been retreating into your mind more than usual lately. It's like you're doing a disappearing act even Houdini would envy. But hey, I get it. People are complicated creatures, and occasionally it feels safer to hide behind our thoughts than to face the chaos out there.

About this facade you've got going on. You know, the one where you're holding on to your inner child like it's a winning lottery ticket? It's almost comical how tightly you cling to it, as if someone's lurking around the corner waiting to snatch it away. Newsflash: nobody's taking it from you, dear.

Now, about those tears. I know, I know, crying is for the weak, right? Wrong. Even the toughest nuts crack sometimes. Take it from me, I've shed more tears than I care to admit, and yet here I am, still standing, still better as ever. You don't have to plaster on that smile 24/7, you know. Let those tears flow like a leaky faucet if you need to.

And speaking of tough times, let's talk about failure. It's not the end of the world, despite what your overactive brain might be telling you. Trust me, I've had my fair share of failures, and look at me now—still standing, scheming and myself.

So, when are you going to cut yourself some slack? Stop beating yourself up over things that are as out of your control as the weather. Tomorrow's just another day in the grand circus of life, and guess what? I'm your ringmaster, baby. You're not in this alone.

And those feelings you've been bottling up? Yeah, it's time to pop the cork and let 'em out. Trust me, it's like a pressure valve for the soul. Cry if you need to, scream into the void if you must. Just don't keep it all locked up inside. That's a recipe for disaster, believe me.

So, here's the deal: you're not alone in this. I've got your back, whether you're crying like a baby or plotting world domination (ugh just do it in moderation though). Just remember, it's okay to let your guard down once in a while. After all, even the sharpest swords need a little sharpening now and then.

Alright, let's wrap this up before I start growing a conscience or something equally absurd. Seriously, who knew pouring my heart out on paper could be so exhausting? I feel like I've been on a marathon run through a field of emotional landmines, and I'm not even wearing my running shoes.

But hey, if this little rant of mine manages to knock some sense into that stubborn head of yours, then I guess it's worth the carpal tunnel I'm bound to get from all this writing. Just promise me one thing: don't go making a habit out of this whole “feeling your feelings” nonsense. It's bad for my image.

So, there you have it. Consider this your one and only free pass to the sappy side of Scaramouche. Don't get used to it. Now go on, get out there and conquer the world, or cry yourself a river, whichever floats your boat. Just remember: you're not alone in this crazy circus we call life. I've got your back, whether you like it or not.

“It's okay, your world, and feelings are precious, so precious just like you are now.”

Fondly yours (don't make it a habit),

Scaramouche.

Other Version 🍨: Zhongli , Kazuha, Xiao, Thoma

[reasonsmandy]

Silver Springs

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by @navia3000 — hi hi hi!!! i’m OBSESSED with your writing and i was wondering if you could write an eddie x reader story for me! i thought of this in the shower, but basically, reader is the bassist of the band and has been in love with eddie for a long time, but eddie is in love with camila. everyone knows she’s madly in love with him, but he doesn’t seem to realize it. after cami and eddie get together that one night at the bar, and then when they’re talking at the party, reader overhears the whole thing and is really upset because camila and her are very close and she knew that reader loved eddie. camila walks back to the party but sees reader standing there and realizes she heard everything. reader gets mad and stops talking to both eddie and cami, just ignoring them every time they’re around. it gets to the point where cami gets fed up and says some mean stuff to reader about eddie not wanting her in front of everyone else. reader packs her stuff and leaves the band without saying anything, basically just pulls a houdini. some time later, the band is at a festival and the band performing before them is the reader’s and she’s the lead singer, and they realize it’s her and are like omg. reader sings her hit song silver springs (og by fleetwood mac but im pretending its reader’s song) and it’s obvi about eddie. she sings it while staring at him just like stevie does lindsey. and you can end it however you want. i know this is really long and im sorry 😭 i just love your writing and wanna see how you do this. thank youuuu :))

✧.* summary — a fic based on Silver Springs by fleetwood mac

✧.* warnings — Camila being a jerk :(((

✧.* word count — 3.2k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — This was soooo fun to write, I'm just obsessed with this song

Love is fucked up, and you were living the worst of it since you fell in love with Eddie Roundtree. Of course, it's not about every type of love, but you knew very well that there is nothing as painful as unreciprocated love. It was like being slowly consumed by a feeling that will always be there, and there's nothing you can do to make it stop.

When you guys decided to move to follow the band's dream, it wasn't an easy decision, you were scared to death that you were making the wrong decision but there was comfort in doing it with those you were close to. Now that you were having the chance to create a new album, you felt like it was time for you to grow up in a big way.

The work had been difficult, you spent a lot of time in the studio recording again and again, and only being done when it was perfect. And despite the regrets, you knew that everything was heading towards what you were going to and were living. There is something that was addictive about work, it made you forget about the disaster surrounding your love life, you felt pathetic for futilely insisting on a feeling that had no direction or departure.

You felt yourself falling in love with Eddie when you guys moved to the new town, despite your time performing gigs and also with other gigs out there, you still spent a lot of time together, something that was enough to make you fall in love with him. He was always very kind and understanding with you, even more so when you missed home a lot, slowly as you became closer to each other you couldn't help your feelings anymore… something you just hated.

Everyone knew that he was deeply in love with Camila, including yourself. You knew that when your heart started beating faster everytime he passed by or talked to you, there were several times you tried to hold every feeling back, knowing that it would only lead to heartbreak.

As everyone knew about Eddie's feelings towards Camila, slowly everyone noticed your feelings towards him. Of course there were jokes and teasing (even more coming from Rojas), but it slowly became an unspoken topic that everyone knew but no one said a thing. And you honestly appreciate it!

You had no idea if Eddie knew about it, and you hoped he never did. Because even if you didn't have any hope, or at least tried not to, you wanted to deprive yourself of the look full of pity coming from someone who doesn't feel the same way. Looking to escape all your thoughts, you spent many more hours than necessary in the studio working late, and today was no different.

“God! You're still here?” Daisy says as she opens the studio door, a cigarette hovering on her lips.

“I have a lot to do.” You say shrugging, while giving her a small smile.

“No she doesn't.” You are startled a little when you hear Karen's voice behind you, turning slightly to see her blonde hair.

“Is this some kind of intervention?” Your laugh came out nervously, they look at each other.

“Well, maybe?” Jones gets closer to you, you can smell the cigarettes on her clothes.

“You're working like a dog, so we thought you could come with us to a party?” Karen suggests, her eyes showing her eager for you to agree.

“I don't know guys…” You scribble some things in your notebook, nothing specific other than lines and circles.

“Come on!” Karen holds one of your hands to help you up. “Just try it, I promise that if you don't like it Daisy will take you home.”

“Oh, I will?” Daisy looks at her, you can't help but laugh when you see Karen giving her a threatening look. “Yeah, of course I will.”

You see no escape, so you soon find yourself among a considerable number of people wearing your favorite dress. Karen had been called by a boy to talk better, you hadn't noticed who it was but you knew where she was in case it took too long and you got worried, Daisy was lying on a sun chair around the pool talking to a group of people you had no idea who they were, and you, as expected, were standing there waiting for something interesting to happen.

With your half-full glass in hand, you approach the chairs looking to sit somewhere, your steps stop when you see a familiar figure you blink a few times to make sure you were right, and after a few blinks you confirm that Eddie was there too. Having been alone for a long time and bearing in mind that you wouldn't have company anytime soon, you decide to go to him.

As you make your way into the crowd you see him getting up, you frown trying to get a look at where the hell he was heading to. After a few attempts, bumping into some people and a couple of "I'm sorry" to those who had been pushed past you, you are amazed at what you find. It was unusual to see Camila leaving the house for a party, especially alone, you were immediately surprised, looking around to see if other band members were around.

Well, it wasn't the worst case scenario! At least now you have more company to spend the night with, you continue but immediately notice a different air between them. Your body weakens and your heart races, he gets closer to her and she doesn't step back, you can't help but wonder what the fuck was going on so you decide to sit near them and try your best to hear them.

“Wow, you chose me over sure thing like that?” You barely hear Camila's voice among the others.

“I'll choose you over everyone.” Your heart hurts on your chest, you felt sad.

The silence between them is all you hear even with the noise around you, you turn to see what was happening and bitterly regret what your eyes found. Camila holds Roundtree's face gently, her shaking hands indicated apparent nervousness and her fingers didn't show firmness, she was kissing him.

You couldn't believe what your eyes were showing you, your friend forever was kissing the man you were in love with. It was more than a pain, it was a deep betrayal. You didn't give a shit about the fact that Billy was also being betrayed, he had already done worse to her, but you... She knew your feelings, nothing could justify what your eyes witnessed.

You quickly grab your bag, not bothering to tell Daisy or Karen that you were leaving, you just wanted to disappear.

Knowing that you would eventually have to see Eddie if you returned home, you decide to go to any 24-hour establishment, any place where you could get your head around work in peace. Maybe it was raw feelings, or just lack of attention, but you didn't care if disappearing caused a fuss among your friends. If it were up to you, a complete song would be created that night out of all your frustrations.

…

When Eddie opened the doors to the house he was surprised to see the lights on, Karen was on the sofa with her hands in her hair and her legs kept moving up and down. He frowns and gives a questioning look to Warren who was eating a banana in the corner of the room, he just takes a deep breath and doesn't give another answer.

“I swear to God, if she's not having sex right she better have a good excuse to just disappear!” Karen utters, Graham puts one of his hands on her back as comfort.

“What the fuck is going on?” Roundtre asks, a little bit worried.

“Y/N, Daisy and I went to a party and she just vanished.” Sirko's blonde locks got messy as she frantically ran her hands through it.

“What?” Eddie widens his eyes, worried. "You left her alone?"

“Are you going to keep throwing things in my face? I know I fucked up, alright.”

“I think we all should take a rest, it's late.” Graham says.

“Yeah, and besides… I'm pretty sure she'll be back tomorrow.” Rojas tries to comfort everyone, and after a while he manages to get them all a little bit more calm.

…

You were a mess, your hair was a mess, your papers spread across the table were a mess and you didn't even want to look at your face. But you had a song made, lyrics complete, rhythm organized and the guitar and bass part was done, and even with a lot of anguish, you were proud of your work.

You quickly stuff the papers into your backpack, and order a taxi to the house you shared with the band, knowing that you would be scolded for disappearing last night. But honestly, all you wanted was to forget what happened.

“I'm gonna kill you.” You hear Karen's voice and Immediately let out a long breath, she stops when she sees your face. “Bloody hell you look horrible.”

“Thank you very much” You roll your eyes, trying to pass by her, he holds your arm.

“What happened?” You can see she was worried, but you felt pathetic just thinking about saying any of this out loud.

“I can't say it.”

“Bullshit!” She crosses her arms and stops in front of you, preventing you from going forward.

“Fine, I don't want to say it.”

“Where were you yesterday?” She tries once more.

“Writing.”

“You left in the middle of the party to write?” Karen arches her eyebrows, in disbelief. “Without any extra reasons?”

You see Camila approaching, and it takes a lot for you not to cry when you see the person you trusted who had broken your heart so easily. You avoid her eyes, wiping away the tears that escaped.

“Look, I don't want to cause any fuss.” Your voice was choked, your gaze fixed on your foot.

“Karen called me worried yesterday, what happened? Where were you?" Camila comes with her calm voice, you feel a disappointment growing in your core.

“I left, alright?” You say louder than you expected, closing your eyes to take a deep breath. “And I'm leaving.”

“Who's leaving?” Warren's voice comes behind you, he joins everyone. “Hey Y/N, you good?”

“Not really, no.” You give him a small smile, he for sure would be one of the things that made this harder. “I'm quitting the band.”

“What?” They all say together, you swallow hard.

“Why?” Karen was shocked, in disbelief.

“I love you guys so much.” You say between tears, taking a while to pull yourself together. “But I only get hurt lately, and I need time to heal.”

“Who's hurting you?” Warren says in defence. “I'll kick their ass!”

You let out a laugh, “I don't want to cause a mess between you guys, I'm just going to pack my things and go.”

“I don't get it.” Karen says, so lost.

“Just be honest with us.” Camila asks.

“Look, it's fine.” You shrug, holding your bag close to you. “Just like I said, I don't want scandal.”

“You're being ridiculous.” Sirko let's out, frustrated.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Camila asks, nodding towards the balcony, you go with her. “What's happening to you?"

“I saw what you did yesterday." Your voice became more choked, you tried hard not to cry. “How could you?”

“What are you talking about?” You can see that she is taken by surprise.

“I saw you kissing Eddie yesterday.” Your vision is blurry with tears. “Why?”

“Look, let's not over react this…” Her voice is lower now, as if trying her best to avoid any attention.

“How on earth am I overreacting?” Slowly you got mad, trying to hold back all your emotions. “All this years I told you how I felt about him, how I bad I felt and yet you… you still did it.”

“Y/N, that's no reason to leave the band.” She avoids the subject. “They need a bass player, you can't just leave when they're recording an album…”

“No fucking reason?” You were shocked, your heart racing. “You don't even care about me, you're worried about the band.”

“Stop being like that.” She rolls her eyes. “It's been years of this, he doesn't like you. I know I did wrong but not with you, with my husband…”

“You think that what you did with me was not a betrayal?”

“I honestly don't think so.” She laughs, and that sents you. “He doesn't feel a thing about you, maybe it's time for you to get over it.”

You cry, your chest hurts. “I'm leaving.”

You turn to leave, knowing that your conversation has been heard by the others when you are met with pitying eyes.

…

You said you would and you did, you left there and only kept in touch with Karen after a few months of leaving. Little by little you got good opportunities, and over time you joined a band that was having great success.

Your song 'Silver Springs' had been written on one of the most troubled nights of your life and had now become your ticket to glorious days like this one. Festivals were your favorite days, you just loved to feel the audience's energy and sing along with them.

But besides loving all of this, today was being chaotic… You knew you went on stage in a few minutes and your guitar player was extremely drunk, you were furious and extremely nervous.

“Oh my God!” The British accent said each word slowly, you turned to see your ex bandmate with a wide smile heading towards you. “You look amazing! It's been so long.”

You go to her hugging her for a while, after some usual questions like "how have you been?" "How are the others?" "Any news?" She looks into your eyes with her eyebrows showing concern.

“Is everything alright?” She asks.

“Not actually, our guitar player fucked up.” Your voice was filled with nerves. “And we're up soon, I don't know what to do! He is the only one who can actually sing and—

“I could help.” You jump when you hear Eddie's voice behind you, you're body reacting weirdly at the sight of him after so long.

“Hearing our conversations?” You try to hide your small smile. “I see you didn't change, uh.”

“Not a bit.” He gives you a smile and you remember why you fell for him in the first place. “So, what do you say?”

“Do you really know the song?” You wanted to hide the way your body automatically wanted to go to him.

“You kidding me?” He jokes, adjusting his collar. “Everyone knows this song, it's amazing.”

“I'd love your help Eddie, thank you!” Somehow you feel peace between you two.

…

You feel the lights on your skin as you get yourself ready, amidst the expectant hush of the gathered crowd, the first haunting notes of "Silver Springs" begin to weave through the air. You get to the center of the stage, paying attention to the audience as you let the notes lead you, your presence commanding and vulnerable all at once. Opposite you, Eddie Roundtree appears—a silent sentinel, yet a potent source of the tension that fills the space between you.

The audience goes crazy, everyone knew the rumors about your song and what has inspired you. There was a huge controversy about the release of this song right after you left Daisy Jones and The Six, so when they all see Eddie Roundtree by your side to play it was for sure a fact to cheer for.

As your voice rises, imbued with a raw, piercing emotion, the air seems to thicken. Each word you sing, a testament to love lost and the pain of what could have been, hangs heavy in the atmosphere. Somehow you remember ‘Regret Me’ and how Daisy let out her feelings in the lyrics, you felt connected to her even though you left. Eddie's gaze, intense and unwavering, meets yours. It's a look that speaks volumes, a silent dialogue that only those who have loved and lost can fully comprehend.

You feel the audience’s attention, and your heart softens as you hear their voices sing along with you. As the song goes on, its lyrics casting spells of everything you once felt for the man by your side, the connection between you and Eddie becomes palpable, almost a living thing that reaches out and enfolds every heart in the venue.

With every verse, the space between you seems both to widen and to shrink, a paradox that only deepens the allure of your interaction. It's as if the song is a bridge you're both building back to a moment lost in time, laden with all the things left unsaid. The air vibrates with the tension of the unspoken, the weight of history that both separates and binds you two. It's a tension that speaks to the heartache of love's aftermath, the beauty of art born from pain.

You see in Eddie's eyes curiosity and at the same time regret, you consider looking away, but once you connect like that it is impossible for you to look away. It was like letting your souls show, and dance together. You approach him without taking your eyes off at any time, he accompanies you to the music feeling tense.

As the song reaches its crescendo, a silent conversation occurs in the span of a few heartbeats. It's a moment of vulnerability and power, a clash of emotions that spills over into the audience, leaving an indelible mark on the collective consciousness of the crowd. The applause that follows is thunderous, not just for the technical brilliance of the performance, but for the courage it took to bare such raw emotions in the full view of the world.

“Thank you so much ladies and gentlemen! I hope you enjoyed our show and have an amazing time with my friends… everyone, please welcome Daisy Jones and The Six"

You leave the stage accompanied by your band, you imagined that Eddie would stay on stage to save time, but the touch on your shoulder that makes you turn around tells you no.

“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie says, you can sense his tension.

“But, you guys are up next.” You point to the other band members arranging their instruments.

“I just, I wanted to know…” He holds back, trying to figure out what to say. “I just wanted to know if you still… if you still feel the same way about me.”

You swallow hard, “Do we really have to talk about this?”

“You know I didn't mean to hurt you.” You avoid his eyes. “I really didn't.”

“It's okay, we don't have to talk about it.”

“But I do want to, this song is…”

“Eddie, it's the truth.” You didn't know how to say this in another way. “I was hurt, and I guess I did a good job, because I'm sure you'll never forget the sound of me.”

He avoids your eyes, letting out a chuckle. “Do you think we can be friends?”

“I don't think I'm ready for that.” You say honestly, his eyes, despite being sad, seem to show understanding. “But maybe we'll meet again someday.”

“I really hope so.” He whispers.

“Hey brother, we gotta go.” Warren calls out for Eddie, turning to you. “You guys nailed it up there.” You murmur to him a “thank you.”

“Good-bye guys.” You say goodbye, leaving Eddie with just the sound of your love.

...

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[dragonwitch77]

Tiny

Chapter 10: Babbling

The last few days had gone back to normal. Or as normal as it could get.

While Scylla was no longer screaming her head off (aside from when Bittergiggle had to leave for the bi-weekly expedition and left her to the clones), the tiny jester was no longer silent.

After finding out she had a voice, Scylla soon was making noise. Not big, loud, annoying noises. Just small, quiet, barely constant noises.

She made aaahs, ooohs, and sometimes little cooing sounds. Some sounds she made often had Bittergiggle look at her in surprise, wondering if such things were supposed to be coming out of her mouth. The sounds she made weren’t exactly words or anything he could understand.

He did figure out that there was an indicator to her small sounds. If she saw something she recognized, she made small noises at it. If it was something new, she’d stay quiet and stare at it.

Of course, most of her noises were directed at him. The sounds Scylla made the most at were always towards Bittergiggle, so he figured she at least recognized his face. Same with Kittysaurus when he took her to visit the giant hybrid. And with the clones.

Though, she gave those two an odd side-eyed look when she saw them.

“Why is she looking at us like that?” Houdini asked, to which Bittergiggle could only shrug. He still wasn’t sure what to expect from childcare and very much didn’t understand or know what was going on.

At least she was easy to deal with now.

He held her up, listening to her small babbles and sounds as she stared at him with her big eyes. A few times he thought he heard her say a letter or repeat a word he once said, but all her sounds were just the same nonsensical things.

Was she supposed to be saying something? She was still too young to speak, wasn’t she? Bittergiggle didn’t know.

He knew Syringeon’s kids could talk after a few days, maybe Scylla was the same? But those were Syringeon’s kids, Scylla was his. Maybe she developed differently.

“Bittergiggle.” He said. Scylla babbled at him. “Bittergiggle.” He repeated. Scylla made a small coo. “Biiiiiiiitterrrrrrgiiiiiigglllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeee.” He stretched out the syllables, hoping that would help. Scylla stared at her for a moment, then slowly stuck out her tongue. “… we’ll work on it.” He sighed, butting his head against hers.

Scylla made a small noise against his fur as he placed her back into the sling across his chest. Teaching words would have to wait. A new idea for a joke came to his mind, and he had to write it down quickly before he’d forget it!

🧪

Toadster Databook, Log Entry #1: This is the first entry to what I will refer to as the ‘Toadster Databook’ where all information I have gathered on a certain criminal will be recorded. Not to be confused with the ‘Toadster Archives’ as that information is related to other criminals who I am not familiar with. This databook will focus solely on one criminal, who goes by the name Bittergiggle. A.K.A., The Jester. This particular criminal was once a fellow member of our proud Kingdom and has now turned to a life of crime and evil. It hurts knowing someone you once thought you knew throw everything away for their own selfish goal to make the queen laugh. But I am determined to make sure that never happens, no matter the cost. So far, The Jester hasn’t been making any moves in an attempt to get to the queen. His sightings had gone cold for a month before reappearing during the bi-weekly expedition. Confronting him has been an ongoing struggle and one that can’t be rushed. I’m suspicious of what he’s up to. Knowing him, The Jester likely has something big planned, and I will need to be on guard to stop whatever it may be. Efforts to try and catch him have been proven to be a failure, but I will not rest until he’s locked away for good. For the safety of the Kingdom and her majesty. End of entry.

<Previous/Next>

[thebestpartofwakingup]

Clone high season 2 episode concepts that would've actually been fun/cool

Abe tries to get into "real magic" to impress Joan by hanging out with Aleister Crowley and Arthur Conan Doyle. Jokes about people being too into Harry Potter being lame, jokes about paranormal teen shows a la Sabrina, etc.

Ronald Reagan and Nixon gets JFK into presidential themed crypto

Mean Girls episode parody about the Salem Witch trials or Bloody Queen Mary. They write themselves.

Episode where the main cast keep finding dead bodies, basically tripping over them, parody of teen murder mysteries, twist ending that the bodies are all failed/early clones (like the clone equivalent of a stillbirth. there was no murder)

Yellow Jackets Parody episode. the bus is out of gas or something and they're stuck in a large parking lot but act like they're in the woods.

Traveling championship episode. Debate team has to compete against high school where all the students are robots programmed to behave like the greatest scientists/leaders of all time

Trans episode parody. Abe realizes he isn't aligned with the modern republican party anymore and is therefore a Democrat, treated as a self-aware bad analogy maybe to the point of other characters finding it tasteless/annoying/Abe looking for attention

Cyberbullying episode parody, bonus points if it's gossip girl

Secret cousin/twin parody episode --- obvious starting point would be like. Anastasia because of how many people famously claimed to be her.

Supernatural teen romance parody episode. Abe tries to become a vampire with like Edgar Allen Poe or someone to impress Joan.

"Save the community center" episode --- This could be a great Harriet focused episode about like a bake sale or something to fund the arts but everyone is over exaggerating the stakes and the drama of being/not being a good baker. "My grandmother used to bake these cookies for me.....until she DIED" "My mother baked these cookies for me everyday I was in the hospital after falling out of that helicopter and they gave me the strength to survive" "I can't bake....my mom was always too busy with her business to teach me....." etc.

Big Mouth/Sex Ed parody episode. I think it would be really funny if THIS had been their technology episode, like getting a computer virus is treated like getting a STD and the cast talk about browsing the internet like it's casual sex, etc.

parody of those tasteless episodes about how like bullying leads to school shootings. Have like Abe or Joan or someone try to reach out to Napoleon or someone because they eat alone at lunch and because they think it's silly and mean everyone is afraid of them but then they are just like a violent maniac already. the solution is to get rid of him.

this might sound dumb but remember that one episode of jimmy neutron where jimmy was banned from the science fair for being too smart and killing the morale of any other student interested in participating? What if Clone High did that but as like a parody of anti-trans sports legislation. All the cloned scientists are banned from the science fair because it's an unfair advantage. All the Politian clones are banned from debate club, etc.

Social media/parasocial relationships parody episode where like JFK and Abe become obsessed with one another's online accounts not knowing it's them, despite Joan repeatedly telling them this, it becomes completely unhealthy but then whenever they do hang out together face-to-face they hate it and decide the parasocial relationship was better actually.

PRANK YOUTUBE/TIKTOK PARODY EPISODE ABOUT DB COOPER AND HOUDINI COME ON COME ON COME ON THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING OBVIOUS

[thewritehag]

Wanna know something interesting, but also extremely sad?

When Harry Houdini's mother died, he was distraught (naturally) and this was at the time when spiritualism was booming, and he just wanted to talk to his mom again. He was a mama's boy (affectionate).

Due to a mutual interest in spiritualism, Houdini met and became friends with A. Conan Doyle. When Houdini expressed that he didnt think he'd ever hear from his mother again (being a skeptic), Doyle disagreed and said it was possible. Turns out, Jean Doyle (Arthur's wife) was a medium, so Arthur set up a meeting.

When Jean channeled Cecilia Steiner Weiss (Houdini's mother) to write a message to her son, she started by drawing a cross at the top of the page and wrote the message in flawless English.

Houdini left the session seemingly unperturbed, but was seething internally for two reasons:

Cecilia Steiner Weiss spoke Hungarian, German, French, and Spanish. Not English. Letters between her and Harry (though his mother almost certainly called him by his birth name, Erich) were only ever in German.

Cecilia Steiner Weiss was Jewish. She would never have drawn a Christian cross especially on a message to her son.

Houdini was already skeptical of spiritual mediums, believing they preyed upon the emotionally vulnerable, before he even met Doyle. After the session, Houdini wrote reports about the experience, calling it fake and addressed A. Conan Doyle specifically, saying "Your wife is either a mental degenerate or a fraud, one of the two."

Houdini and Doyle did not stay friends after this incident. Naturally.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I think this is the first time since season 10 that I’ve watched the first episode of a Taskmaster season without writing a liveblogging Tumblr post as I went along (in seasons 11-16, I stuck to varying levels of keeping up the liveblogs for the rest of the season, but I always at least did the first one). If I’m very honest, the main reason why I didn’t do it for this one is it��s the first lineup for which there was only person I was really really excited about. The other four I have varying levels of vague opinions about, from “broadly like based on the one time I saw her on Russell Howard’s show” (Sophie), to “quite strongly dislike based on seeing her promote stalking and harassment on Alan Davies’ show, but I guess it was probably just a joke that came off badly” (Joanne) to “never got into League of Gentlemen because the surreal vibe creeped me out a bit and BBC Sherlock put me off Mark Gatiss so I know almost nothing about him”. Oh, and I do actively like Nick, because I am one of the few people who’s found Mr. Swallow funny on Catsdown, but I didn’t much enjoy his Houdini special and Ted Lasso season 3 was so bad that it put me off everyone who had anything to do with it even though obviously it’s not Nick Mohammed’s fault, so those conflicting opinions balance out into a vague “I guess I like that guy”.

Anyway, I didn’t want to write a post that was meant to be liveblogging the whole Taskmaster episode, and have that post be 90% about John Robins, and lay out just how much John Robins was the only one I was really interested in, and I also didn’t want to try to make myself have more of an opinion about the rest of them than I actually did. So no liveblog post this time, I just watched the episode. Once it gets a couple of episodes in I will have an opinion on the rest of them, and then might start the liveblogs again because I will have a slightly more balanced view.

Having said that. I have now watched it and do have some new opinions:

- Sophie Willan: I expected the charmingly naïve chaos, based on that time she was on Russell Howard’s show, that’s exactly how she came across on there and it’s great. Funny and sweet just great fun to watch. I did not, however, expect this extreme level of incompetence. I find an extreme level of anything funny on Taskmaster, and this is no exception. Love that we’re going to have a good old fashioned disaster contestant and it’s been marked out so early. Love that she appears to have no idea what show she’s on. Obsessed with her decision to paint that actual fence even though she definitely saw the blinds.

- Steve Pemberton: The “old man who is far too well established in comedy to need this show” contestant actually trying in the tasks, that’s always a fun surprise. I mean, I enjoy it either way. Frankie Boyle, Alan Davies, Julian Cleary, Ardal O’Hanlon – all those guys stumbling through the tasks with bemusement is fun. But it’s a nice surprise when you get a Lee Mack, a Dara O’Briain, a thing that Steve Pemberton looks to be – an old man who doesn’t need this but decides to actually put significant effort into doing each task properly. The egg train was impressive. The stumble at the end was funny. The good-natured attitude in the studio is amusing. And John Robins being the competent competitive force I’m hoping for won’t be as much fun if there’s not another good player to challenge him.

- Nick Mohammed: That’s exactly what I wanted from him. It’s almost weird to hear him talk in a normal voice, which doesn’t make sense because it’s not like he was using the Mr. Swallow voice on Ted Lasso, but I think on some level, my brain operated under the assumption the Mr. Swallow voice was his “real voice” and he was just putting on a character for Ted Lasso. It is interesting to see him play himself, where it turns out, he’s not that far off from Mr. Swallow’s quirks, just with a lower-pitched voice. I liked the exchanged he had with Greg in this manner. I liked the pragmatic approach to getting hula hoops out of a river. I liked the dynamic with Steve. I liked it when he threw some bricks around.

Joanne McNally: I dislike her a bit. Which is a lot less than how much I disliked her yesterday. This episode has brought me from disliking her a lot to disliking her a bit. She was entertaining. I wish I hadn’t seen that episode of Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled, because it’s sending me into this season with a bias against her that may be too much for her Taskmaster persona, as entertaining as it is, to overcome. I like other comedians who've said worse things than that, because I can put those things in the context of all their other stuff and consider it just one badly judged story. Maybe Taskmaster will give me enough context for McNally to get past it. She was fun. I wanted to be able to enjoy her. But she does still annoy me.

John Robins: Here's an idea. What if I do the opposite of the post this would have been if I'd been liveblogging as I watched and had been honest about where most of my interest was (though that interest broadened out as the episode went along, it only takes a small amount of time at the beginning of a season for me to get to know the unknowns well enough to be interested in them too), and make this a post about everyone except John Robins? I'll just end this post here.

(He crashed a car with an egg and he brought in 19th Century literature and he thought through that live task so strategically and and his drawings were so much better than everyone else's and this is exactly the level of competence I was hoping for and I don't mind waiting a bit for the competitiveness-induced outbursts that I'm sure are coming later, because actually it was equally funny to watch him spend this episode just glaring and biting his tongue (and having his voice crack the way it sometimes does on the radio, it happened right at the beginning of this episode, and you always know we're getting something good out of John Robins when his voice starts cracking) whenever he got annoyed about something going wrong. And is adorable that his buddy Alex got a reference to his big award into the episode, especially in a way that says "You know, technically you're on the level with Steve Pemberton."

(The other reason I didn't do a liveblog this time is I was genuinely embarrassed reading back the one I wrote during s16e01, where I frequently transcribed my internal and/or external monologue verbatim as I was too into the episode to also put an edit between my thoughts and the typed words, and was really into backing Sam Campbell like a sports team and Taskmaster brings out the sports team side of me in general, which is how you had bits of that post with me writing things like "Yes Sammy C coming through" with what I hope any reader would (incorrectly) interpret as irony. It's for the best that I avoided that this time and didn't need to document the number of times the words "Come on Johnny you got this" came out out loud as I was watching him throw hula hoops at things. I have never referred to him by that name before, it's just the automatic sports-ifying of people's names that happens when you watch them like a sports team. I'm pretty sure words in parentheses don't count towards a post, so this one actually ended when I said it did two paragraphs ago.)

[chambersandfogg]

June 24th, 1922

It was days ago now, but I’m only just recovered from my third annual summer solstice fête. As always, it was a rip roaring success, worth the morning head that followed. Despite the absurd temperance laws in place now, New York has continued to flourish as the place to have a good time and the life of a theater owner and producer has introduced me to all sorts of people.

Actors, writers, musicians, film stars, and, of course, New York’s wealthiest families—those are the people who filled my Long Island home. Even Houdini himself has become a regular attendee, something I delight in. I longed for so many years to be noticed by him for my work as a magician but, despite meeting him a few times, I know I never made any kind of impact. I know this because he can now come to my house and drink my liquor and talk to me of his work without any spark of recognition in his eyes. I am ten years his senior and yet now, for all intents and purposes, twenty years younger. He treats me as such—telling me of his shows and travels, reminiscing about the turn of the century as if I truly was just a boy when we entered the nineteen hundreds.

There is something thrilling in pulling the wool over a great illusionist and skeptic’s eyes. There were some in attendance who should have recognized me as Fogg, but they seem to accept my new name and history with no question. It is a jolly crowd, full of the brightest minds of a generation, but they still see what they want to see. In any case, I am enjoying playing the part of the newly rich Jack Sinclair, even if it means that none of my guests ever truly know who I am.

The one guest who does know me—and the one I was most surprised to see walk into the garden—is Charles Chambers. He has been invited each year and, until now, never graced us with his presence. I don’t know what changed that he decided to come this year, but given the last time we saw each other was at the opening of “Pick a Posy” in the fall, I was pleased he came. As he almost always does, he disappeared into the night after sharing a drink with me at the opening night party and, while we’ve written, he remains as distant and unknowable as ever.

So you can imagine my shock when he agreed to stay the week here on the estate. He’s out walking the grounds as I write and I don’t know what it is he seeks out there, but he’s spent hours outdoors every single day since he arrived. A few other guests lingered for a day or two and the staff is here of course, but as of this morning, the only two occupants of the house are Charles and myself.

I find that I’m oddly nervous in his presence now that he is the only one remaining. I would not have anticipated the urge to entertain the man but, then again, we’ve hardly spent more than a day together since we worked on our World’s Fair act all those decades ago. I have no idea what kind of host he expects me to be or even how long he plans on staying—he said a week but I haven’t heard any noise about his travel plans. I would be happy if he stayed out the month here, perhaps into the Independence Day festivities. But for a man who is so constant and stoic, he has a tendency to be unpredictable.

He appears well. His work debunking the worst charlatans of the world is clearly invigorating and fulfilling him in the way my producing work does for me. It is heartening, that both of us have found new vocations that inspire us. If we are truly to be this way for the rest of time, I have to think it is vitally important that we continue to find endeavors that keep us engaged and occupied. My years of laying about after the war gave me great insight into the sorrow an idle mind can bring.

The rummiest thing happened at the party in fact—Scott and Dorothy, who had never met before but got on like a house on fire, were stacking coupes to pour champagne into when the whole thing came toppling over with a great big crash. And for a moment, I could have sworn that I was back on the front. I clearly had had too much to drink already by that point in the evening, because the whole room around me went foggy and indistinct and the old pain in my leg flared as if I had just received the injury.

I’m grateful that Charles was there. Somehow he intuited that perhaps I’d gotten a tad too sozzled, and he was at my side in a moment, ushering me into the library with the rest of the party none the wiser. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to extricate myself, as in that moment I feared I would collapse. We didn’t speak much when he sat me down in my favorite armchair, but he poured us both a brandy and we sat in peaceful quiet for a while. It really was the strangest thing. I certainly flinch at loud noises here and there—nothing so extreme as shell shock I don’t think—but this was something else entirely. It’s burdened my mind these last few days.

I wonder if it would be worthwhile to speak to Charles about it. While not the most forthcoming man, he is a decently good listener and is, of course, the person on this earth who knows me the best. But there is a strange distance between us that I cannot seem to cross. We spoke a little at the party, and have dined every meal since, but outside of that it feels that he’s avoiding me. Which I cannot fathom, given that he’s chosen to stay.

While theater producing is certainly keeping me occupied for the time being, I suppose, when in doubt, I’ll always have the mystery of Charles Chambers to fall back on as an activity to fill my endless days.

[from the personal diary of J.S. Fogg]

[to read the pre-1917 entries, join Atypical Artists and get access to the archive of 24 entries (5,000+ words), as well as ad-free episodes of Atypical's whole catalogue. to receive future monthly missives straight to your inbox, sign up for free here]

[evermorethecrow]

EVERMORE THE CROW 1K SPECIAL..... EXPOSING MY PAST.................

ages ago when i was younger i had to write this letter talking about times i got injured for school work and it was so bad i went through it with a friend of mine and because i thought i wouldnt hit 1k before the end of the year saying id post it if i did.

AND NOW IVE DONE IT

so heres my letter :(

Dear sir, I chose to write about a dangerous situation I've been in but I found it so difficult to pinpoint one situation.I am such an impulsive and spontaneous person and I rarely think before I act .Therefore instead of just one dangerous situation I have composed. Before i start i would like to issue a warning under no circumstances should a person attempt to recreate any action in this list for it is ill advised and i don't want to go to court again Kind regards -------

Okay so let's start out small ,i mean like when i was small really small i couldn't walk, but oh boy i could climb and unfortunately for the better of my own health climb I did,climb out of my cot and i know because gravity people who drop out of things tend to have this annoying habit of hitting the floor.Lets just say my mum put PE mats on my bedroom floor after that.

Next…uhhhhh incident??? Oooh it's another escaping story  maan maybe i should change my name to houdini or something,anyway this was a little later like i was able to walk (uh oh) i reckon i was good a walking, a little too good, my mum looked away from my pram for a second a second too long when she looked back i was gone, everyone in the park was looking for me and after 10 minutes of looking my mum saw me walk out the playground, i left and went to the playground.We went home after that.

Time for the third story  I was two years old and was running buckwild in Greenwich Park and having a fun time, in fact I was having such a fun time I didn't hear my mum shout “LOOK OUT”.  I had a comically large bump on my head got concussed and had to go to hospital, Not for too long though the very next day i got sent home for using a IV as a skateboard

Just a heads up befor the next story alot of these storys will be me being stupid and endeing up in hospital so if you have idiotphopia or are scared it would be advised to leave now or buy todays sponsor raycon earbuds.

Anyway next accident  When i was five I was in bed as a five year old should be when I had a genius revelation Hmmm i I dont wanna use my legs to get out of bed so why not roll out instead….i did roll out of bed,right onto a plastic dinosaur and cut my eyelid, there was blood all over my face.But hey at least i got to meet an old friend of mine.The hospital waiting room.

So yeah you can probably see how i'm quite an accident prone person but i never really did anything that bad.SO WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT THE TIME I JUMPED OFF MY SCOOTER WHILE GOING SUPER FAST ON IT DOWN A HILL? I was seven and i was at our local park blythe hill and my seven year old brain wanted nothing more than to go down that hill at record speeds on my scooter,and i'm not talking about one of those fancy stunt scooters no i'm talking about a kids micro scooter, you know , the one where you would always put elastic bands on it, any way I was about halfway down the hill when i decided I was going too fast on it and i could get hurt and since id never had an injury before i wanted to prevent that so what did i do? I jumped of the scooter I was a smart kid. I jumped off my scooter and pretty much removed all the skin on that side of my body and too make matters worse it got infected and i had to take antibiotics for 4 weeks. Fun times

As you can probably see i might be a bit reckless and might be a bit bad at planning ahead  Which leads me to our next story, this ones a bit different you see this time  I didn't actually get hurt. I was at a friend's house and that friend's house had a garden with a tree,a tree and a garage which was placed close to the tree, and I, being a master climber since birth, scaled the tree with ease. But that wasn't enough for me no I wanted to climb the garage.So i went across the tree to the branche nearest the garage ,and climbed on top of the garage,the lovely,brick garage.my friends dad came out and saw me on top of the garage simply chilling and as you can probably predict he asked me to get down so instead of doing the rational thing and using the tree to et down.. I jumped of the garage onto the stone floor.I didn't go to their house for a while after that

I have another garage related story,This was in 2017 I was nine surely I was smateer by then and learned my lesson Right……Right? Me and my siblings were playing marco polo out the front of our house (never a good sign) And it was my turn to be blindfolded and find my siblings.I decided to run straight forward and hit the brick wall between two garages , I fractured my nose, chipped my front tooth and had to go to hospital.oops.

Now they say save the best for last and boy did i. It was 2020(oh god ) and we were celebrating my mom's birthday and all was going smoothly, well until i decided to leave our living room by jumping out the room from the sofa.it didn't go as planned.yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah i jumped off the sofa hi my head on the top of the door landed on my arm and spent 5 hours in hospital on my mums birthday.

That's all we have time for today However here are some honorable mentions 

.The time i used my scooter on a tall thin brick wall (someone really ought to take that thing of me honestly)

.All the times I hit my head on bins 

.And that time this year I literally without thinking put the hairdryer on my face after I used It and burnt stripes into my face 

Well thats the list of the most dangerous things ive done, of course ive done more dumb things but this paper has gone on long enough and I have school in the morning so bye I guess.

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MY LIFE IS RUINED

[scottwellsmagic]

867: John Cox - What's New With Houdini?

As we end our “Month of Boo'“ on The Magic Word Podcast, we close it out on the 98th anniversary of the death of Harry Houdini who passed on Halloween (October 31st), 1926. It is fitting that we have a chat with the internationally noted expert on “all things Houdini,” John Cox. John is the blogger of “Wild About Houdini” which is a daily blog about the master of escapes. He always seems to find some interesting nugget about Houdini’s life that has been long overlooked or “escaped” his attention.

This week, John Cox talks about the many variations of the “Houdini Seance” since the first one by Bess Houdini first held on the year following Harry’s death. These modern day seances includes the current “Official” one hosted by Dorothy Dietrich and Dick Brookz and the “Original” one hosted by Tom Boldt and Bill Radner. John also tells us some details about Houdini’s trial in Germany, plus he updates us on the books he is writing including the elucidation on Houdini’s diary from his early years before he rose to his legendary status.

Download this podcast in an MP3 file by Clicking Here and then right click to save the file. You can also subscribe to the RSS feed by Clicking Here. You can download or listen to the podcast through Pandora and SiriusXM (formerly Stitcher) by Clicking Here or through FeedPress by Clicking Here or through Tunein.com by Clicking Here or through iHeart Radio by Clicking Here. If you have a Spotify account, then you can also hear us through that app, too. You can also listen through your Amazon Alexa and Google Home devices. Remember, you can download it through the iTunes store, too. See the preview page by Clicking Here.

[skyyguy]

Tagged by @heretoobsessstuff

Last song u listened to: Houdini by Dua Lipa

Silver or gold jewelry: Silver, unless we're talking white gold.

Do you have any tattoos: Three! A fox sitting on a book on my ankle and an anky and a T.rex on my forearms.

Piercings: Technically one on each ear, but my right one has all sorts of issues and closed up.

Currently reading: Just finished A Dangerous Man by Charlie Huston, need to decide what I wanna read next.

A hobby u would like to try: Pottery.

Coffee or tea: I hate coffee, so tea.

Favourite video game: Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess.

Star sign: Cancer 🦀🦀🦀🦀

Who’s ur biggest hear me out: I'll be real, I'm not entirely sure what this is asking 😭

No pressure tags: @air-exec @avonne-writes @trashbag-baby666 @sleepr-agent420 @hogans-heroes @mangokitkats @swifty-fox @glitterghost @onyxsboxes

[charliemwrites]

Whilst everyone is talking about their oc's 🤭 Mine is lowk a thinly veiled self insert who I'm desperate to write💕

Her callsign is Houdini, because of her innate ability to get in and out of high security places without being noticed. She's absolutely tiny, like 5ft nd 100lbs wet through, hence doesn't necessarily have an advantage strength wise, but her subtlety is what gets her recognised. She's easily able to get in and out of tough situations, retrieving hard drives, folders or people with important information in order to help her coworkers.

She's like utterly feral when she's not in full, hyperfixated work mode though, can't sit still, eyes twitching and ears perking up at every little sound. Literally can't even sit through a short briefing without some keys to fidget with or some kind of stress ball.

Very snarky until she's w/ her teammates whom she adores and totally looks up to because daddy issues!!! yay!!

I think I just read and reblogged Houdini’s character profile and I love her! I love a feral baby! I love the idea of the entire squad carrying toys around for her to play with while they have to do boring stuff