#if you are someone who is familiar with my character douglas as well. the way he treatrs the universe is pulled from gauldoth.

[glados-kisser]

gauldoth half-dead is kind of hot ?

[gedeonburkhard]

FROM GEDEON

Award-winning actor Gedeon Burkhard stars opposite Brad Pitt in the much anticipated Quentin Tarantino film Inglourious Basterds. Burkhard plays American Jew Sgt. Wilhelm Wicki who serves as a translator for Pitt’s character. Some of his other film credits include: The Last Train (directed by Joseph Vilsmaier), Melodies of Spring (directed by Martin Walz), Golden Times (directed by Peter Thorwart) and Making Up (directed by Katja V. Garnier).

Burkhard is the recipient of the Best Actor Bavarian Award for his work in Acting It Out and also received a Romy for Best Actor for the acclaimed his television series Detective Rex, which went on to sell to over 140 foreign territories. In addition, he also helmed a successful television series Alarm for Cobra 11 that aired in 120 countries.

Burkhard’s success in film and television has catapulted him onto the main stage in one of the most highly anticipated movie releases of 2009, Inglourious Basterds. IFQ caught up with Burkhard on the eve of the film’s premiere at the 2009 Cannes Film Festival.

IFQ: You play opposite Brad Pitt in the much anticipated Quentin Tarantino film Inglourious Basterds. Without revealing too much about the film, can you tell me about your character Sgt. Wilhelm Wicki?

Gedeon Burkhard: He’s a Basterd! One of 8 Jewish American, Nazi killing predator’s, in a world gone awry. Especially for Jews! As far as his history goes, he was born in Austria, immigrated to America in the early 1920’s, became American and was one of the first in line to go fight when the US entered the war. Aside from killing and mutilating, he also translates for Brad Pitt’s character, Lt. Aldo Raine.

IFQ: You are an award-winning star of consecutive top-rated television dramas in Germany and over 120 territories worldwide, as well as starring in many films in German-speaking territories. How did you cross over and score a supporting role in Tarantino’s film?

GB: Ten years ago in Vienna, I come home from a night shoot and find one of the greatest Directors of our time, fast asleep, on my couch. As it turns out, my girlfriend at the time, Emma Hickox, and Q are old friends. Actually, one of the characters in Inglourious Basterds is named after her late father and director Douglas Hickox. One year later in L.A., Quentin tells me about this character he has me in mind for and then, very generously, gives me eight years to prepare for the audition.

IFQ: How did you prepare for this role? Were you previously familiar with the old school WWII epic films?

GB: When I was 11, working on a miniseries dealing with the rise and downfall of the Third Reich, I was confronted with the subject matter for the first time. Since then I have played a Jewish prisoner picked from a concentration camp to act in Jud Süss (Anti-Semitic propaganda film) and a Jewish boxer fighting for his family’s survival on the way to Auschwitz. So since a lot of research was already in place, I mainly concentrated on playing around with knives, handling guns, slitting throats, scalping and so forth. As far as WW II epics go, any existing gaps where closed by Q’s weekly screenings during preparation.

IFQ: What was your initial reaction when you first read the script? While shooting, did Tarantino make everyone stick to the script or was there any room to improvise?

GB: My initial reaction was, God I can’t wait to see this! And, who do I have to kill to be in it?! I’m not quite sure about the order. Who, in his right mind, would want to change a Quentin Tarantino script? You’re just happy to be one of the lucky f***’s chewing his dialogue. But Quentin is the easiest going Genius I ever met and he is always open for someone bringing something to the table.

IFQ: How was the experience working with Tarantino himself? What’s his working process like on set?

GB: A film set is always the realm of organized chaos and to me, Quentin is King Arthur and Merlin wrapped into one! So being one of his chosen Knights, I naturally look to him for direction and guidance, which he readily gives. But Quentin also likes to let you run free in his magic castle; his only demands are devotion to the cause, passion and concentration.

IFQ: What was it like working alongside such a diverse cast: Brad Pitt, Eli Roth, Samuel Jackson, Maggie Cheung, Julie Dreyfus and Diane Kruger? What was your rapport like with them on the set?

GB: I never had the pleasure of meeting Maggie or Samuel. Quoting Quentin, Brad’s not a star; he’s a planet! And still he manages to be nothing but inspirational and a pleasure to be around. He is a wonderful colleague whose huge talent just drags you along, making you be the best you can be. Eli is a great buddy, but on set he was also our boss, Sgt. Donnie Donowitz! So if you mishandled your weapon, on or off camera, he chewed your ass out! Julie and Diane are both gorgeous, inside and out! I didn't have the honor to work with Julie but Diane, who I worked next to for weeks, was an endless fountain of entertainment and laughs.

IFQ: How do you think the German population in general will react to the film? Will they be able to separate history’s past and appreciate it as an entertaining film on its own merit?

GB: Quentin has managed to deal with this difficult subject matter in a way that gives everybody in his right mind the possibility to access and partake in the story and the ones that don’t, can as far as I’m concerned go F*** themselves!

IFQ: You have worked on both German-speaking and American films. Can you compare and contrast working on German-speaking films/TV and the USA/Germany co-production film Inglourious Basterds?

GB: Crew size and Production value. Aside from that, everybody is trying to do the same thing: make a good movie!

IFQ: Can you tell me how your educational background has allowed you to play both American and German speaking characters?

GB: Being an impossible child and always getting kicked out of schools was, not at the time but in retrospect, a good thing. It led to me being educated, first in England and then in America, giving me the gift of two languages and two cultures.

IFQ: Since Inglourious Basterds will premiere at the 2009 Cannes Film Festival, will we see you there?

GB: Since I have never been to the Cannes Film Festival, you can bet your ass you’re going to see me there this year!

IFQ: Any upcoming projects?

GB: I just finished shooting a film called Mazel. It‘s a Jewish take on My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

[blairsanne]

DFP Actors August: Emmett Skilton

NZ actors tend to end up in a lot of the same shows over the years it seems. I have a lot of fun spotting familiar faces, so I thought this would be a fun and silly little project, seeing which actors have repeatedly been in things that Deano was also in (not necessarily alongside). Just a bit of trivia. Enjoy!

Shortland Street (1996/2019)

They did not appear in this show together, but Dean was on this long-running soap opera back in 1996 as "Nurse Harry Martin".

Emmett has worked/works behind the scenes on Shortland Street (directing episodes from 2019-2022), as well as being credited as playing "Ross Douglas" in 13 episodes in 2019. If you follow Emmett on instagram, he posts behind the scenes stuff sometimes, especially earlier this year around the show's 30th anniversary!

The Almighty Johnsons (2011-2013)

Dean and Emmett star alongside each other for the length of the show. Dean plays Anders Johnson, one of the older brothers of Axl Johnson who is played by Emmett. This is one of my favourite shows! If you want more TAJ content hit up my sideblog @jprgirl.

Anders is a very sexual PR man who possesses the spirit of the god of poetry, Bragi; he uses his powers mostly to get his way with women, but also just in general. Axl is a less-sexually-successful college student who has a lot on his plate as he becomes Odin; his powers mostly just show up as needed, usually while trying to protect someone important to him. They are both my precious blorbos.

Auckward Love (2015/2017)

Dean plays Dan very briefly in S1E1 "So, This Is Us" and S1E5 "Hunger Games". He's the ex of the main character, Alice.

Emmett directed and wrote for the show, as well as playing Curtis - someone Alice accidentally injures - in S1E7 "Good Job" and Daniel Actionbutter in S3E7 "What exactly did you do, Vicky?". [I watched S3E7 sped up but near as I can tell he's just a voice on the movie they're watching?]

The Brokenwood Mysteries (2018/2016)

Dean and Emmett don't appear in the same episode of this show.

Emmett is in S3E1 "The Black Widower" as Dr. Byron Cotter.

Dean is in S5E4 "The Dark Angel" as Barnaby Buchanan. His character is eating paper in the second pic; it caught me off guard when I was scrubbing for stills and made me laugh so I had to include it.

ALSO: Both of their episodes were written by Tim Balme (who also wrote for and starred on Almighty Johnsons with them)!

That's all for now! Do you know of anything I missed?

[loki-zen]

So, given you're first-reading Homestuck now, in 2021... What's it like, aesthetically? Does it feel familiar somehow, because it's been very influential? Or does it feel fresh and bold, like it did when it was coming out? (Or, I should say, fresh and bold as an extension of the way Problem Sleuth was. Also, you DID read Problem Sleuth first... Right?) What's it LIKE to read Homestuck for the first time in 2021?

Both. It feels both fresh and bold and familiar, and perhaps the former in more substantive ways than the latter?

I did read Problem Sleuth, albeit some time ago. I think as you suggest having some idea of at least the concept behind PS is necessary context as it’s that format Homestuck is riffing on. (Interestingly, coming to it well after the fact, I’m aware that there was at some point some element of audience input Problem Sleuth style, or at least the ambiguous appearance thereof - but I don’t know they stopped pretending that that was a thing, other than that it’s I think fairly early.)

But like, at no point did ‘Problem Sleuth style audience participation webcomic’ become like, a genre.

So even from the start, what you’re looking at is a webcomic based on a subversion of a format established in a single webcomic, which is itself an homage to a kind of video game. That remains pretty unique! As does ‘a story in which much of the action takes place inside a video game’, both in general and especially like.. not as an excuse to have a Narnia that doesn’t really matter, an ephemeral realm to hero’s journey in in let’s say a kid’s movie, probably written by someone who at least affects not to play a lot of video games. Instead you’ve got a setting whose logic and world building is clearly heavily video game inspired, but treated seriously as a setting and designed for narrative fiction (which distinguishes it from eg a tie-in novel, which I find invariably hit problems stemming from the source material not being designed for the format).

It felt familiar only really inasmuch as Douglas Adams or Terry Pratchett (or if you’re a normie, idk, Friends?) will feel ‘familiar’ to anyone from circles that have incorporated their distinctive idioms into their idea of what being witty sounds like. I think I am pretty good at totally blanking out stuff about fandoms I’m not in that I come across too so that probably helps.

But like. Nah, it’s still structurally incredibly novel. Who else is doing that shit?

And not just structurally even! It may be 2021, but I’d still struggle to name anything with an even number of male and female characters! It’s also rare to see something not pink-ghettoed with that many interesting and distinct and important female characters, or something where the narrative seems not to especially favour boy-girl romances over Not That that isn’t like specifically Gay Fiction.

This is kinda ramble bc not 100% on what’s meant by ‘aesthetic’ but yeah

If you meant visually then.. idk I probably don’t read enough webcomics. It’s visually very good I think. One of the ways in which it’s a lot better crafted than you’d think / than it is in other ways is in incorporating a lot of Cute Tricks for visual storytelling this complex.

Like, Jack’s not the only one who likes trophies - Hussite makes an active habit of getting characters visually altered by their escapades in ways that later helps you keep track of what the fuck is going on. (Eg Gamzee’s facial scarring tells us that a given iteration of him that might pop up, oh idk anywhere, has some sort of chronological continuity back to killing Nepeta and by extension the whole Murderstuck debacle.)

However as soon as it gets into animations, I think they look good but the visual storytelling becomes kinda shitty, in my view. I watched it with someone who seems to be able to follow the events in them, but hell, I can usually follow them if I go back and watch them after I know what is meant to be happening in them. They’re way too quick, and what’s happening is often too high concept to unambiguously depict visually.

As to what it’s like, overall…

I think definitely different than reading it at the time.

I think there’s a lot of stuff in Act 6 that’s way more forgivable when you know you can freely click next all the way to the end. Act 6 kinda benefits from being binged really, so as to enable one to fly past the cruft.

There are definitely times when I feel like I’m interacting with a piece of Actual Important Art Maybe, something scholars will wank about in decades to come, and times when I feel like I’ve poured way too much time and attention into a shitty vanity project webcomic. Maybe both those feelings are true.

I feel like the tantrum he throws in Act 6 might play differently to me as a writer and ex (Terribly Modern) theatre type idk. it’s relatable in ways that might help the god tier death clock of content consumption stop with the needle on ‘charming’ rather than ‘wanky’ for me personally.

[tcm]

Martha! Martha! Martha!! THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS (’46) By Theresa Brown

“It would have been so different if you hadn’t run away. It would have been you instead of Walter. Or if you had stopped me. When I lifted the cane, why didn’t you stop me? You know how much I hated her. Why didn’t you stop me?” 

In April, TCM celebrates all things Oscar with their 31 DAYS OF OSCAR programming, and it frankly boggles my mind how Barbara Stanwyck never won a competitive Academy Award. She received nominations for STELLA DALLAS (‘37), BALL OF FIRE (‘41), DOUBLE INDEMNITY (‘44) and SORRY, WRONG NUMBER (‘48). She was such a good, solid actress. Starting off as a Broadway chorus girl, Stanwyck had been honing her craft in film since 1929. Never really the sweet, ingenue, girl-next-door type, there was often an edge and feistiness to even her most sympathetic characters. The bulk of the 1930s saw her in dramas, but THE MAD MISS MANTON (‘38) unlocked the screwball door.

It turns out Stanwyck could do comedy and drama (no easy feat being a double threat) and sling a line with the best of ’em. On second thought, perhaps she is a triple threat because she could do Westerns (I never saw Bette Davis gallop on a horse and no, rear screen projections don’t count). Or maybe even a quadruple threat because she could dance: (did you see her do that split in LADY OF BURLESQUE, ‘43)? In the 40’s, Stanwyck jumped another hurdle as she crossed the threshold into stone-cold, lethal ladyhood with DOUBLE INDEMNITY.

It’s often too easy to say someone is a good girl or bad guy. As soon as you ask WHY one does what one does...you realize folks are a little more complex than either or. That’s where I put Stanwyck as she delves into the dark side with THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS. I must have seen this movie, conservatively speaking, at least 11,329,853 times since the 1960s. It’s one of my top five favorite films. Stanwyck is great in this. I see her Martha Ivers as a woman trapped. The entire cast is terrific. Everyone fulfills the trope of characters we’ve become familiar with in the world of film noir. Along with Stanwyck, the film stars Van Heflin, Lizabeth Scott and in his first screen appearance, Kirk Douglas as Stanwyck’s husband, Walter O’Neil.

Scott’s character here is a girl more on the good side than bad side of noir, and who’s been hurt by men...victimized. Oh, we see she knows she appeals to men, and they want to give her things. But then she’s often left holding the bag. In MARTHA IVERS she’s on parole and will be used by the law to corner Heflin. But before she betrays him, they’ve got a nice budding relationship going. She’s a little wary and can take care of herself, but ultimately she’s a lost, hurt pup. Composer Miklós Rózsa underscores her vulnerability with sweet romantic violins. She has no hidden agenda and just wants a ride out of town in the opposite direction the law wants to send her. She falls for Heflin. This time she might’ve picked right: a man who wants nothing from her. But before they go forward, he must go back.

It took me 40 years of watching this movie to really fall for Van Heflin and now...I’m hooked. I really like him in this film. Heflin plays Sam Masterson, the usual protagonist you see in film noir: the flippant, wise-ass, smart aleck: “The road turned and I didn’t.”  He roams from thing to thing...wears the requisite fedora. Sam is easy, breezy. And he stumbles into his past. While Walter might not bruise an olive, Sam doesn’t back away from a fight. Sam shows us a glimpse of hurt when he talks about his “people” who abandoned him. He’s sensitive to the hard-luck girl he picks up along the way without taking advantage of her. He’s also an opportunist. He figures out that from asking D.A. Walter for a favor, it might land him in the chips if he plays his cards right.

As an actor, Heflin faces the big kahuna in this movie: Stanwyck. This is their first pairing but it wouldn’t be their last. They co-star in EAST SIDE, WEST SIDE (‘48) and B.F.’s DAUGHTER (‘49). They’re both so accomplished opposite each other. Stanwyck has had some dashing leading men in her career, but for my money...very, very few of them can hold a candle with her like Van Heflin.

The Oscars likes Acting ( with a capital "A" ). I’ll begrudgingly admit, Stanwyck’s four Oscar-nominations come from showier performances. In them, she’s a terrorized, self-sacrificing, pistol of a showgirl with a cheap blonde wig living with some squirrely professors and wants her lover to murder her husband. She’s not showy in MARTHA IVERS though she does run a gamut of emotions and attitudes on her journey, and nothing beats Stanwyck when she has to desperately plead. Whether she’s steely, contemptuous, dismissive, sarcastic, desperate, desirous, loving or volcanic, Barbara Stanwyck has many gears she can expertly shift into. And any one of them should garner her an Oscar.

THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS is one of the best films noir. Riveting in how it unspools events, it’s all a noir should be, even without the flashback and narration. And please keep your eye out for Ann Doran’s five-minute bit as a secretary. She’s a dream. Simply a dream. They say you can’t go home again. It’s especially true in film noir. Well, time to watch the movie once more. Coming up on my 11,329,854th time.

[angrylizardjacket]

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡 

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over. 

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen. 

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really? 

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown. 

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties. 

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending. 

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation. 

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public. 

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album. 

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was. 

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone. 

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong. 

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired. 

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room. 

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness. 

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back. 

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss. 

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it. 

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time. 

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter. 

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop. 

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head. 

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed. 

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him. 

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you’re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too. 

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.

[terryballs]

My favourite Doctor Who writers

10. Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman is one of the most talented people to ever write for Doctor Who. Of course, talent alone is not enough - Douglas Adams, Alan Moore, and Naomi Alderman all miss out on this list. What makes Gaiman special is his fairytale, fantasy approach to the show. He has big ideas, full of heart, and I am always delighted by them.

Why isn’t Mr Gaiman higher up on the list? Simply because he has only done four stories. One of them, “The Doctor’s Wife”, is an all-time classic, while the others are at least good. With a couple more stories, Mr Gaiman would surely be higher.

9. Paul Magrs

Coming in at #9 is one of the most important writers of non-televised Who. Paul Magrs has written nine Big Finish Main Range stories (most notably “The Peterloo Massacre”), three Companion Chronicles, and two Eighth Doctor Adventures, including the exceptional “The Zygon Who Fell To Earth”, as well as a huge number of spin-off adventures.

It’s in print where Magrs really flourishes, though. It’s quite hard to get across just how influential Paul Magrs has been. Firstly, his three books in the Eighth Doctor Adventures range - The Scarlet Empress, The Blue Angel, and Mad Dogs and Englishmen - are hugely ambitious metatextual delights. These stories introduce Iris Wildthyme and the Smudgelings to the Whoniverse, and have each inspired their own spin-off series, collectively called the “Magrsverse”. Iris’s parody of the Doctor is a rip-roaring delight whenever she appears - and as you know, she’s famous for it - and will prove a lasting legacy for Mr Magrs.

I suppose, at this junction, I should mention Lawrence Miles, who has had a similar influence, but I just don’t find to be quite as good a storyteller as Magrs.

8. Rob Shearman

You probably know Rob Shearman for “Dalek”, the first good New Who story. What if I told you that “Dalek” is Shearman’s worst DW story?

The titles of Shearman’s audio plays are enough to send shivers up the spines of those who have heard them. There’s “Jubilee”, the loose inspiration for “Dalek”, which explores the Daleks as fascist iconography. There’s “The Holy Terror”, where the Doctor and Frobisher the Penguin Shape-Shifter have a similarly horrifying experience with a religious cult. There’s “The Chimes of Midnight”, possibly the definitive Eighth Doctor story, and “Scherzo”, itself perhaps the most experimental story in Doctor Who history, and “Deadline”, in which the villain is Doctor Who itself.

Like many of the writers on this list, Shearman has an eclectic back catalogue full of obscure oddities. But few people have quite his capacity for knocking it out of the park.

7. Chris Chibnall

It’s true that Chris Chibnall’s work before becoming showrunner is inconsistent at best. “42″ is bad and “The Hungry Earth” is uninspired. “Dinosaurs on a Spaceship” is a fun romp, while “The Power of Three” is a great story that is let down by the ending which had to be re-written hastily due to unforeseen production issues. And Chibnall’s contributions to Series 11 range from “fine” (”The Woman Who Fell To Earth”) to “bad” (”The Battle of Ranskor Av Kolos”). But in “Pond Life” and “P.S.”, Chibnall shows that he knows how to write affecting character beats.

It’s in Series 12 that Chibnall really takes things up a step. His stories become sprawling and ambitious: globe-trotting thrillers crammed full of ideas. He’s still occasionally guilty of trying to throw too many ideas in, but his love for the story really shines through. There’s barely a weak moment in Series 12, and that’s largely because Chibnall himself steps up to write or co-write hit after hit after hit. It all culminates in the epic three-part finale, “The Haunting of Villa Diodati”/”Ascension of the Cybermen”/”The Timeless Children”, a hugely ambitious story that crosses space and time and pulls together disparate elements from the history of Who. It’s a million miles from “The Battle of Ranskor Av Kolos”: a fan-pleasing story that is truly epic.

6. Vinay Patel

Why is Vinay so high? Good question. Thinking about it, I can’t really justify this placement. Patel reliably produces great stories - “Demons of the Punjab” alone marks Patel out as a great, and to follow it up with “Fugitive of the Judoon” shows that it wasn’t a fluke. But Mr Patel has only got four stories to his name - the aforementioned TV stories plus “Letters from the Front” and “The Tourist” - so for similar reasons to Mr Gaiman, a high position is difficult to justify.

So instead, let’s give this position to Terrance Dicks. Mr Dicks has a bit of a reputation as more of a “jobbing” writer than someone like Chibnall or Shearman, Terrance Dicks was, first and foremost, a script editor. Yes, he co-wrote “The War Games” and was the sole writer for “Horror of Fang Rock”, but he’s best remembered for script editing the Third Doctor era (and part of the Second Doctor era), as well as producing an absolute mass of Target novelisations. But that’s not all - Mr Dicks has written original novels (VNAs, EDAs, and PDAs alike), Quick Reads, audio stories, two stage plays, and even the Destiny of the Doctor video game.

Sure, Mr Dicks didn’t burn as bright as Mr Patel. But his contribution to the Whoniverse is unparalleled.

5. Nev Fountain

Comedy writer Nev Fountain has written several of the very best Doctor Who stories. For some reason, these stories tend to centre around Peri (Fountain is married to Nicola Bryant). “Peri and the Piscon Paradox” is the best Companion Chronicle by far, due to a combination of great acting by Bryant and Colin Baker and Fountain’s sizzling script. “The Kingmaker” is an outrageously funny historical with incredible dialogue and multiple ideas clever enough to carry a whole story.

Frankly, those two alone should be enough to convince anyone of Fountain’s brilliance. But there is so much more - “The Widow’s Assassin”, “The Curious Incident of the Doctor In the Night-time”, “The Blood on Santa’s Claw”, “Omega“... if you like Doctor Who, make yourself familiar with Nev Fountain.

4. Robert Holmes

More than anyone else, Robert Holmes is responsible for the esteem which the Fourth Doctor is held in.

Holmes first wrote for the show all the way back in Series 6, with “The Krotons”. He wrote the very first Third Doctor story, “Spearhead From Space”, in which he also introduced the Autons. They reappeared a year later in “Terror of the Autons”, which introduced Jo Grant and the Master. In “The Time Warrior”, Holmes introduced the Sontarans, a pastiche of imperialism.

It was in the Fourth Doctor era that Mr Holmes really made his mark. He took over from Mr Dicks as script editor. In his own right, he wrote “The Deadly Assassin” and “Talons of Weng-Chiang”, but he also turned “The Ark In Space”, “Pyramids of Mars”, and “The Brain of Morbius” into usable stories, even appearing in “The Brain of Morbius” as the Doctor.

After stepping back from script editing, Holmes returned as a hack to write stories like “The Caves of Androzani” (probably the most popular story in Classic Who) and “The Two Doctors”, before dying shortly after his 60th birthday.

3. Jamie Mathieson

Putting Mr Mathieson above Mr Holmes really shows my bias towards New Who, but honestly, I’d rather re-watch “Mummy on the Orient Express”, “Flatline”, or “Oxygen” than any of Holmes’ stories. Mathieson is very inventive and extremely good at maintaining pace and tension. I’m sure we’ll get more stories from him in the future, but the ones we have so far should be used as inspiration by anyone wanting to writing exciting Who.

2. John Dorney

It is hard to exaggerate Mr Dorney’s contributions to audio Who. He may lack the external fanbase of Mr Gaiman, the influence of Mr Magrs, or the legendary status of Messrs Dicks, Chibnall, and Holmes, but make no mistake, Dorney is exceptional. In almost every range he tries his hand at - Lost Stories, Novel Adaptations, Third Doctor Adventures, Fourth Doctor Adventures, Fifth Doctor Adventures, Dark Eyes, Doom Coalition, Ravenous, Time War, Companion Chronicles, Short Trips, Jago and Litefoot, Missy, UNIT, Diary of River Song... Dorney reliably writes the best story in the set.

In particular, Dorney’s stories are notable for the way they focus on character drama. Look at stories like “A Life In A Day” or “Absent Friends” for particular examples of stories that use sci-fi concepts to draw emotion out of characters, particularly the stoic Liv Chenka. Other highlights of Dorney’s include “The Red Lady” and the “Better Watch Out”/”Fairytale of Salzburg” two-parter.

1. Steven Moffat

What more is there to say? Moffat is truly exceptional, reliably writing the best stories in TV Who for several consecutive years. The classics are too numerous to list, but the stand outs amongst the stand outs are “Blink” and “Heaven Sent”/”Hell Bent”.

Some of Moffat’s best work comes away from TV. The minisodes “The Inforarium” and “Night of the Doctor”, the novelisation of “Day of the Doctor”, the short stories “Continuity Errors” and “the Corner of the Eye”, and lockdown stories like “Terror of the Umpty Ums” are Moffat deep cuts which deserve to be held in the same regard as his great TV stories.

Moffat’s imagination lead to him creating multiple iconic monsters - foremost amongst them, the Weeping Angels and the Silence. Moffat emphasised the use of time travel within the stories themselves; other themes in his work include memory, perception, paradoxes, identity, sexuality, and responsibility. He is, without a doubt, the greatest Doctor Who writer, and I am so lucky to have lived through the period where he was active.

[asimawv]

I write and conceptualize story to music, so I’ve compiled a playlist of 30 Darkest Dungeon-specific songs that I listen to when writing (and subsequently re-writing) in no particular order, which I hope will help you set the vibe too. :+)

Names in bold are links for easy listening - tons of Hozier and Of Monsters and Men up ahead, five minute warning.

1. ‘Fire and the Flood’ - Vance Joy

If you listen to nothing else on this list, listen to this one - it’s the kind of song that’s made for movies about yearning. Folk influences, choruses of trumpets and vocal harmony, and instruments that are layered for a rich, resonant sound. This is the song I imagine Dismas and Reynauld horse-racing through a crowded outdoors market in the hamlet to, and the song I listened to nonstop freshman year when I first started writing The Myth of Sisyphus.

You're the fire and the flood And I'll always feel you in my blood Everything is fine When your hand is resting next to mine Next to mine You're the fire and the flood

The chorus is built around biblical allusions to the fire (the burning bush signifying first contact) and the flood (destruction of the first world), the beginning and end. Every line is similarly evocative of Darkest Dungeon in their simplicity (“I’ve been getting used to waking up with you,” etc.)

2. ‘Soldier, Poet, King’ - The Oh Hellos

By the title alone you can guess who this is for. Even the Guild quote for the Leper approaches these three things as the defining parts of his character (specifically it’s “a ruined man, a warrior, and a poet.”) This song coincidentally has an old world influence to it, with a Medieval Renaissance style from a guitar playing a lute-adjacent melody.

There will come a ruler Whose brow is laid in thorn Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord

To be smeared with oil is to be anointed by a prophet and thus chosen by god himself to be king, just as David was and his boy after him (presumably Solomon). There’s something strangely wistful about the imagery, which is just how I like my songs about bygone kings.

3. ‘Exit Hymn’ - Bear Attack!

This song is about the end of the world in a version where everyone simply stands together in silence watching, rather than having the masses swarming in panic.

Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters. Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters Mute.

It defies Lovecraftian horror, which is based on the premise that “common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large” - it flies in the face of existential nihilism and the despair that it should bring us. That’s why I like this song for deaths in the end-boss fight; it also has a special place for other death-related ideas, like full-party wipes - entire teams of people vanishing into the dungeons, gone insane, holding hands while the darkness surrounds them.

It’s a bare song which has a sanctity to it, mostly just piano and rain and human voices. Just what you would hear at the end of the world.

More under the cut:

4. ‘Pursuit of Glory’ - Jhameel

This song is laid-back. It doesn’t have the Homeric intensity that some of the other songs here do - it’s a guy with a guitar and vocal harmony. By god is it a great piece of writing though (all of Jhameel’s older songs have that quality to them), and all of it is evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

So many eyes set on the path to glory Too many ties, friendship is for the lonely Can't still my heart, my tongue has tasted folly Thirsty for art, hungry for power and money

This is a song for everyone in the barracks, especially the ‘laundry list’ of people and their approaches to the pursuit of glory.

5. ‘Good Old Days’ - Macklemore (feat. Kesha)

This fucker put a Macklemore song in here. I did, yeah. It’s not even the only song with Kesha in it here (I’m sorry.) 

It’s a sentimental pop song, and I am sentimental to a fault. This is Darkest Dungeon AMV material, and I always mishear one of the lines as “we were underground, loaded mercs in that 12-passenger van” so it’s here.

We've come so far, I guess I'm proud And I ain't worried about the wrinkles around my smile I've got some scars, I've been around I've felt some pain, I've seen some things, but I'm here now Those good old days

6. ‘Past Lives‘ - Kesha

Here it is, the other Kesha song - this was introduced to me by a good friend, also in a Darkest Dungeon context. There’s just something about the lovers spanning time trope and finding each other in one life to the next that is irresistible (for the obvious reason in the context of Darkest Dungeon.) It’s a soft song, totally out of place in Kesha’s typical discography, and has a line about losing someone to the crusades, so... you know.

There's just somethin' about you I know Started centuries ago though You see your kiss is like a lost ghost Only I would know But I, I keep on falling for you Time after time Time after time

7. ‘Viva la Vida’ - Coldplay

You cannot fight this. You know that this is the song for King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem, you know it is. Did you know the official name of this genre of music is “Baroque pop”? Yes, that means more songs like this exist. You will live with this information now.

Don’t fight it. Just let it wash over you.

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing Roman Cavalry choirs are singing Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain Once you go there was never, never an honest word And that was when I ruled the world

Mirror, sword, and shield, the three other members of his party, his missionaries in a foreign field. Thinking emoji. I typed that out so I wouldn’t have a repeat of the crab emoji incident.

8. ‘The Boxer’ - Jerry Douglas (feat. Mumford & Sons, Paul Simon)

Partly inspired by the Bible, Simon & Garfunkle’s ‘The Boxer’ is a folk rock song about poverty, loneliness, and homesickness. It’s written and sung in a style that’s strongly reminiscent of older times, and the final verse about its eponymous boxer is particularly powerful:

In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains

This is what I use for Dismas’ life leading into organized crime and his foolish abandonment of stable job prospects in a half-baked bid for fame, as well as being punched down over and over again but with nowhere else to go. That last part is widely applicable across the cast.

9. ‘I Will Wait’ - Mumford & Sons

I am but a simple man. I see 'folk rock' and add it to my Darkest Dungeon playlist. This song I use for Reynauld - it has that sort of “salt of the earth,” somewhat biblical humility in its choice of words and style. 

Raise my hands Paint my spirit gold And bow my head Keep my heart slow

10. ‘Little Lion Man’ - Mumford & Sons

Have we not beaten this song to death yet? Can you blame us? This is the people’s song. We reserve it for all of our favorite fuck-up characters, as primal as Saturn devouring his son. We love this song. Jesus.

Tremble for yourself, my man, You know that you have seen this all before Tremble little lion man, You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face, Your boldness stands alone among the wreck Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

The line about learning from your mother in particular is why I think of this song for Dismas’ introspection, but I also associate it with the Hellion.

11. ’From Eden’ - Hozier

There’s too much Hozier in my playlists. There is so much of it, and it’s all important to me, says the hoarder. There’s something about profoundly intimate folk music that I love, and god put folk, R&B, blues, and alt rock into a Vitamix for 45 seconds to make Hozier.

Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

‘From Eden’ is, according to Hozier, about idolizing someone from a distance, written from the perspective of the devil “looking longingly at something he desires - for everything that he does not have.” I associate this song with the Grave Robber for its playfully nihilistic tone - Audrey does say something to the effect of being left for dead by high society and the affectionate bordering condescending address is on-brand.

12. ‘Cherry Wine’ - Hozier

‘Cherry Wine’ is unabashedly about domestic violence, and its sincerity is heartbreaking, the sanctification of the blood spilled in the name of keeping her.

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

This song is strongly tied to the Vestal for me.

13. ‘Work Song’ - Hozier

A song about unconditional love - heaven and hell were just words, indeed.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

I think of this song for both Dismas and the Abomination - it’s a song about love transcending spiritual and even physical need, complete devotion, but something about it is also not quite right. It’s morbid and excessive, self-pitying, and almost ugly in its sincerity.

14. ‘Sunlight’ - Hozier

The strong gospel influence with the choruses, church organ, religious fervor - I think it makes a great song for traveling scenes and church/altar scenes.

I had been lost to you, sunlight Flew like a moth to you, sunlight oh sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight (sunlight, sunlight) But it is sunlight

15. ‘Arsonist’s Lullabye’ - Hozier

The gospel this time is paired with electric rock instrumentation. Something about the lamentation is unapologetic and matter-of-fact in its disturbing inclinations - this is Paracelsus’ song. Arguably representative of Bounty Hunter and Flagellant as well.

Now that I think about it, it’s great for Abomination as well. Damn.

All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

16. ‘We Sink’ - Of Monsters and Men

Of Monsters and Men are closer to the indie rock/pop spectrum with influences of folk, with much less biblical influence and more folklore-inspired lyrics. They make for great trailer and action songs.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongues We set the fire and we let it burn Through the dreamers, we hear the hum They say come on, come on, let's go So come on, come on, let's go

In Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos, dreams are how the Old Ones commune with humans on the earth’s surface while they slumber in the ocean depths (Cthulhu fhtagn meaning “Cthulhu is dreaming”); I like to think of the ‘sleepers’ as the heroes being tasked to “set the fire” and the ‘dreamers’ being the Heir and Ancestor driven by some unseen force to unearth the antediluvian underground.

17. ‘I Of The Storm’ - Of Monsters and Men

Very somber song, overwhelmingly piano and snare drum and vocals. Also a great death scene song, or for introspection around the campfire, or played to reveal a major event.

If I could face them If I could make amends With all my shadows I'd bow my head And welcome them

18. ‘King and Lionheart’ - Of Monsters and Men

My favorite OMAM song - it’s clearly written about two children, kind of reminiscent of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ in its fantastical nature, and very upbeat about the end of the world.

His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind Though far away, though far away, though far away We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same

This part is reminiscent of the Leper’s journey, but the mentions of taking over a town, howling ghosts, the end of the world, a black sea and creatures lurking below, etc. are all evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

19. ‘Little Talks’ - Of Monsters and Men

Also very upbeat for its subject matter - according to OMAM, it’s a narrative of a woman speaking with the ghost of her dead husband, or going insane and believing that she’s speaking with her dead husband.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear 'Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

The call-and-respond style of the song is haunting. I like this song for expeditions and afflicted heroes.

20. ‘Wolves Without Teeth’ - Of Monsters and Men

Suitable for both Occultist and Abomination, being consumed by an unseen and otherworldly force that inhabits them - well, maybe just rarely seen, in the Abomination’s case. Special mention to OMAM’s ‘Human,’ same conceptual backing but more raw.

You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it He wants it

21. ‘Desierto’ (Original Motion Picture Score) - Woodkid

This is a full album, because all of it is dark orchestral cinema music described as ‘unsettling,’ with the sole exception of ‘Land of All,’ which has vocals to it. I reserve this album for writing fight scenes and for particularly unsettling events because it’s tense and wordless. I read Junji Ito to this soundtrack too, it’s insanely high-strung and discordant.

22. ‘Iron’ - Woodkid

‘Iron’ qualifies as Baroque pop - you might recognize this as the Assassin’s Creed: Revelations song. The large-scale, cinematic style of it and thematic lyrics make it great for writing about dramatic encounters or brigands.

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't recall your eyes, your face

23. ‘Never Let You Down’ - Woodkid (feat. LYKKE LI)

Another somber song, orchestral with some industrial noise in the mix - another great introspection song, or one for a scene with some hard decisions to be made.

Will you come along cause I'm about to leave this town In my eyes, a waterfall, all I can hear, a siren call Could you be waiting by the shore, oh I could drown without you Will you be holding out the line when I fall?

24. ‘Run Boy Run’ - Woodkid

Church bells, fast percussion, strong orchestral presence. For chase scenes, obviously, but great for fast-paced sneaking scenes as well. Also has a strong quasi-Medieval fantasy setting style to it.

Tomorrow is another day And you won't have to hide away You'll be a man, boy! But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

25. ‘I Love You’ - Woodkid

Don’t let the scream effects and aggressive percussion at the beginning deter you (it kind of took me by surprise the first few times too) - it soon fades into more of the church bells and melodic string accompaniment.

Oh yeah, unrequited love song? It’s free (mental) real estate, baby.

Is there anything I could do Just to get some attention from you? In the waves, I've lost every trace of you Where are you?

26. ‘Vagabonds’ - Grizfolk

A rare departure from folk! Grizfolk is alt rock/indie pop. Stylistically it doesn’t match the feeling of Darkest Dungeon, but lyrically it’s almost 1:1 to arrival in the hamlet and the subsequent expeditions. Good song for writing about recruits bonding.

Oh this careless ground, guessing this is home now Oh in no man's land, at least we're still standing And we're all just fighting, some of us will not return And there's no redemption in trying to find your way out

27. ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ - Lorde

Great trailer fuel, if you’ve seen the AC: Unity E3 trailer with this song - I listen to an extended version when writing fights in the Guild, especially one where two heroes are beefing. It’s got a primal kind of thing going on. I also associate this song with the Arbalest - lyrically, it fits her backstory like a glove.

Welcome to your life There's no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you

Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on mother nature

28. ‘Torches’ - X Ambassadors

More alt rock/indie pop - kind of a rallying song for dark expeditions, hopeful but still somber in nature - some gospel elements. X Ambassadors’ more popular ‘Renegades’ is also a fun tavern song.

Come on, carry your flame Carry it higher Leave it in the darkness Carry your torches

29. ‘Passing Afternoon’ - Iron & Wine

This is a song I use for reconciliation or domestic scenes - Dismas with Junia in the garden, for example. It’s soft and kind of meandering, and features vintage piano - you know, the piano you heard in the basement of your church turned community center as a child.

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

30. ‘Some Nights’ - Fun.

You know this song, your mom knows this song, everyone knows this song from like, middle school. Thought it’d be fun to end this list on an uplifting and very popular song. This is the song that a Disney adaptation of Darkest Dungeon would use in the Training Montage™ - from the point of view of Reynauld. It hits all of the points - being their commander rather than their equal, his stern and antisocial zealotry with no true ideology behind it, the ghost of his wife.

Verse 2, starting with “Well, that is it, guys, that is all / Five minutes in and I'm bored again” is where I see it transitioning to Dismas.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights, I always win (I always win) But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know

_____

Well that’s all from me! Feel free to leave your own recommendations in the replies, and I’d love to know what you think about my personal picks. :+)

[aion-rsa]

Doctor Who: What Makes a Great One-Off Character?

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Some Doctor Who characters are intended for greatness; some are intended to be killed off at the end of their first episode. Writers have a lot more control over the second than the first. What remains true for all characters, is the tension that exists between their function in the story and their potential to affect it. Even a guard who simply runs into a room to get shot could have dragged the story in another direction, should they be allowed (this stock background character was the inspiration for Terry Pratchett’s City Watch novels).

Successful one-off characters aren’t necessarily those who break away from their function, (or even those who aren’t strictly required, for example Binro the Heretic in ‘The Ribos Operation’), but those who make a story soar to another level entirely. More often, what makes them work is when their function in the story is disguised. There are plenty of ways to do this and most of them intersect: casting, costume, dialogue, performance…

Let’s first address the latter. Does the actor need to get under the skin of the character to create a nuanced and layered take that resonates utterly with the audience?

Nope. Doctor Who frequently embraces camp. Sometimes camp holds Doctor Who at gunpoint and sings piano ballads at it. The results vary. Richard Briers’ possessed Chief Caretaker in ‘Paradise Towers’ undermines the production (while not a production striving for kitchen sink realism, Briers’ parody-like performance still cuts against its Brechtian leanings) whereas Graham Crowden’s Soldeed is heightened and ridiculous among similar performances.

Other great examples of this stock character, which I am calling Ham-Err Horror without apology, include Professor Zaroff in ‘The Underwater Menace’ (intended to be driven mad by the death of his family, only for this to be cut from the script, rendering the character inexplicably inexplicable) and John Lumic from ‘Rise of the Cybermen’ (inspired to create the Cybermen by a fear of death, with actor Roger Lloyd-Pack citing Dick Cheney as an inspiration for the performance, but remembered mainly for the ripe delivery of lines such as ‘And how will you do that from beyond the grave?’).

Sometimes you don’t even need dialogue. Christopher Bowen, as Mordred in ‘Battlefield’, commits to a maniacal laugh so long that there’s a cut to another scene in the middle of it.

And yet there are places where camp or over-the-top villains work unironically, and some of the most hospitable are the Tom Baker stories of 1975-1977. Harrison Chase, Magnus Greel, Morbius, the Master… these characters fit into the Grand Guignol tradition of heightened and melodramatic performances (Just because something is dark and morbid doesn’t stop it being ludicrously tragic). As the tone of these stories is pitched at gothic melodrama though, the characters and setting cohere.

Returning to ‘Battlefield’, while there are some great individual performances from one-off characters, they’re not quite pulling in the same direction (Jean Marsh as Morgaine is playing an inter-dimensional sorceress as if it’s real, Marcus Gilbert as Ancelyn is saying ‘This is ridiculous, and that’s great’ and pulling along Angela Bruce’s Bambera in that direction too). ‘Battlefield’ is fun, but also disjointed.

Read more

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Doctor Who: Ranking Every Single Companion Departure

By Andrew Blair

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It’s a Sin’s Doctor Who Crossover Pays Tribute to Remembrance of the Daleks Actor

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Some characters get by on the strength of costume or make-up, such as the Destroyer (also from ‘Battlefield’) or the Zygons. Broton, the latter’s leader, is a successful character who operates purely as a function rather than an individual. Played with haughty relish by John Woodnutt, Broton is a visual triumph, with the costume a collaboration between costume designer Jim Acheson, visual effects designer John Friedlander and director Douglas Camfield. At its best, ‘Terror of the Zygons’ oozes with tension and atmosphere, with some fantastic design work and enjoyable pulp runaround. This all distracts the viewer from Broton being a colossal idiot. Indulging in clichés such as explaining his entire plot, putting characters in easily escapable situations and assuming the Doctor is dead without proof, Broton has to do these for the story to unfold according to Doctor Who’s format. Fortunately few people watch ‘Terror of the Zygons’ for Broton’s unique take on planetary subjugation.

Some clichés exist specifically because that character has worked well in previous stories. Frequently in Doctor Who somebody would sacrifice themselves to save the day, someone else would comment on this, and everybody would look solemn for a few seconds before immediately moving on with their lives. ‘The Ark in Space’ features two people sacrificing themselves to save humanity, one with a quip about his union and the other fighting possession, and in 1975, a single line noting these acts was enough.

In 2005, TV had changed, and so Doctor Who threw more weight behind these deaths (boosted by Russell T. Davies’ seemingly effortless ability to generate a whole human life by adding three adjectives per character to the scripts). Jabe in ‘The End of the World’, Gwyneth in ‘An Unquiet Dead’, Pete Tyler in ‘Father’s Day’… these sacrifices were dwelt on, their weight became cumulative. From this, a subgenre of Almost Companions emerged with Lynda in ‘The Parting of the Ways’, Astrid in ‘Voyage of the Damned’ and Rita in ‘The God Complex’: all too doomed to step on board. Eventually the show acknowledged this with the Eleventh Doctor standing over the body of Lorna Bucket and observing “They’re always brave.”

Doctor Who was commentating on itself as early as its second series (in ‘The Rescue’ David Whittaker created Koquillion, a monster in a rubber suit that turned out to actually be a man in a rubber monster costume). In the 1980s, Doctor Who had become increasingly continuity-heavy, but what its final few series managed successfully was to comment on Doctor Who without making the stories’ success dependent on this. Characters such as Captain Cook offer up twisted reflections of the Doctor, with the Chief Clown, Josiah Samuel Smith and Commander Millington all tapping into the historical influences on the show, but crucially the stories still work if you’re not familiar with all this.

‘Ghostlight’, the most densely packed version of this approach,is still entertaining even if you don’t know what is going on. It’s played with such conviction and unity, with each character managing to feel both heavily symbolic but with a sense of inner-life. This is generally true of the Seventh Doctor’s era supporting characters, especially the guy who snaps “I can’t do anything without my list now can I?” in ‘The Happiness Patrol’.

But as we’ve seen, a standout character doesn’t have to be multi-faceted. Not every henchman can be Packer from ‘The Invasion’ (he’s not only sadistic and cruel, but Peter Halliday really commits to the undignified flapping when things go wrong), but most stock characters in Doctor Who work by being given ‘a bit’.

Usually this stems from their plot function. Harrison Chase, in ‘The Seeds of Doom’ is a plant collector and obsessive because the story is based around aggressive plant-creatures, and needs a simple way to bring the main human antagonist into the adventure. Here though it’s more than that. Lesser examples of this trick can be seen with Tarun Capel in ‘Robots of Death’, where his obsession with robots isn’t as unsettling as Chase’s obsession with plants (and then further down the line we have Magnus Greel in ‘Talons of Weng-Chieng’, who is evil because the story needs a bad guy). In ‘Seeds of Doom’, time is devoted to the idea of a man who considers plant life superior to humanity, and the script and actor Tony Beckley really commit to the comedy and horror of this idea. That’s his ‘bit’.

Perhaps the finest example of turning a character’s basic function into pure entertainment is Duggan in ‘City of Death’. Douglas Adams and Graham Williams, rewriting David Fisher’s scripts about aliens in Monte Carlo, took a Bulldog Drummond-inspired detective character and realised his primary function in the script was to be the muscle for the Doctor and Romana.

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There are other elements of of ‘City of Death’ that poke fun at television’s contrivances (The guard’s throwaway line saying Captain Tancredi will “be here instantly” just before the door opens, for example) and Duggan’s repeatedly punching people unconscious to move the plot along is not only revealed to be an example of Chekhov’s Gun, whereby it’s the solution to the whole story, but also the source of the best sight gag in Doctor Who when Duggan opens a wine bottle by simply smashing it open off the bar. Without providing him with much in the way of depth or backstory, by leaning into the character’s story function to almost absurd levels, ‘City of Death’ creates one of the most memorable supporting characters in Doctor Who history.

The post Doctor Who: What Makes a Great One-Off Character? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[it-lives-in-westchester]

If it lives 3 ever happened I think it would be super cool if you could play through the perspective of the new MC, whoever you sacrificed and whoever survived from ilitw. And I guessing there would probably be collectibles.

Yeah, I totally wanted a multiple MC book for IL3, I know some people aren’t big of fans of that, but I love it when you can play as a different character than the MC. 

If I had to make a new MC, Have two ideas for what I would have done if I had the power to get a sequel. 

A. MC is someone who is already familiar with the power. After all, Devon (ILITW MC) was familiar with the power and had already experienced it. But just didn’t know what it was. Harper (ILB MC) had no idea about any of this before their life was thrown upside down after their parents' death. Be nice with something new.  

This new MC grew up with the power (maybe a part of a cult obsessed with the power), would also be a nice thing for the players who already know what the power is after two books. and don’t have to go through the whole “What is happening” because the player already knows. Maybe we are bad guys for the first few chapters before realizing what we are doing is wrong, that be good. 

B. The new MC is the descendant of Elizabeth B. (The woman OG Redfield wrote to in those letters your crow in ILITW had for some reason). They find journals/letters written by Elizabeth who was wondering whatever happened to Douglas her friend/lover/boyfriend/fiance/ whatever you prefer, we never learned their relationship status. The MC gets obsessed trying to find out more about this family mystery which leads them to go to Oregon where the two other it lives books take place. 

Like it makes sense for them to want to get involved in the monster fighting club ILB hinted at the end. Maybe Elizabeth tried to find a way to save Douglas like Noah/Devon is trying to do with the new Redfield so they’d be interested in what Elizabeth found out about that.  

Be weird not to have collectibles in IL3 because the two other books had it as well. With weapons and other stuff. Like getting stuff so we could control the powers. Oh jeez, I really went off with my ideas lol, hope you guys enjoy this. 

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Share a Lair 18 || Share Those Secrets

Charlotte managed to get Piper to drive to the airport with her. Jasper was leaving too, as she suspected, so she would be sending all three of her guys off and she was in no condition to be able to drive away. She knew beforehand. By the time it happened, it was much worse. She hugged Henry and Jasper, tried not to cry on either of them. They held hands and headed for boarding. She clung to Max, trying not to cry, and also trying to let go of him, because it had to be done. She forced herself to smile and moved to kiss him. His tears wet her face and she lost it. “Why are you crying right now?” She asked. “We were supposed to tough it out!” Now, she was crying too.

“I know. I’m sorry, but I’m soft!” He said, squeezing her tightly. He didn’t want to let her go.

It was hard to watch for Henry and Jasper, so while Jasper teared up a little and begged Charlotte to just get on the next plane and come too, Henry pulled him away and awkwardly said, “We’ll see you at Thanksgiving…”

Charlotte wiped her face on Max’s shirt and he made a disgusted expression, “That was snot!”

“It’s payback. You were supposed to hold it together!”

“You KNEW that I wouldn’t!” He cupped her face and kissed her as the announcement sounded that he needed to board the plane. She pushed him, urging him to go, before she begged him not to. And whenever he left, she hugged herself and bit her lip.

“I really don’t get it,” Piper said.

“What? Why I didn’t go with them?”

“No. Why on Earth did they use a commercial flight whenever the Hero League supplies them with a ding dang private jet?” It was because they were going to be under their secret identities and couldn’t be seen near the jet just yet, but Charlotte didn’t feel like explaining. She was super sad.

Piper wrapped an arm around her back and said, “Come on. Let’s get you back to your dope ass house.”

Piper was around for a few hours before she had to head out. Charlotte hadn’t known how to tell her that she really didn’t want her there, anyway. She just wanted to be able to settle in by herself, since she would have to get used to being there by herself. She had no idea how much.

After only a couple of weeks, she lost contact with Max. Jasper had texted only to say, “Max scored an in into a target and was given the order to go all in.” She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Max’s number was disconnected and the only social media that he had left was for his alias, Borya Kozlov. And it had been altered significantly by the Hero League’s tech teams to look like it was many years older and even had doctored photographs that Charlotte had to presume were manufactured by a superpower, and not just some image designer. She had to get things translated, because she didn’t know a lot of Russian and Max wouldn’t let her try out his new and improved Instant Language Learner, because he had a rule about not allowing her to test out things that he wasn’t 100% certain of success. He had gone through a lot of mistakes in his youth and wasn’t going to let her become a target of any of the same type. So, she had been trying to learn Russian on her own.

Initially, she and Jasper had begun together, but he was a lot better at picking up languages, as a grammar nerd and a linguistics hoe. Charlotte understood and even memorized the rules and conditions, but actually executing the words, she was unable, so she’d stop trying to learn and didn’t think about the fact that she would probably have to READ it - that she tried to pick back up on, after she found the Kozlov pages, but she still needed a translator.

It became her thing. A month passed and Henry’s birthday and Thanksgiving were on the horizon. She was relieved and excited, because those were times that they could see see other and Jasper thrived at doing big birthday things for Henry, while Henry thrived on making a bomb ass Thanksgiving. The previous year was their first after meeting Max and he was still sort of a private person and a jerk to them, so they had a minimalist celebration in the tower and made their rounds through Swellview, collecting plates of food and Henry’s presents. She was looking forward to this year being the first in her new home - her and Max’s home… but a couple of weeks before, she heard a sound that she had only heard in the background before and hadn’t heard in a while…

“Incoming Call from President Kickbutt…” She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion for a moment, wondering why on Earth she would be receiving such a call, because she didn’t work for Kickbutt and Max was out on assignment… She rushed to the monitor and saw a woman with strong features and an interesting hairdo on the screen. “Good afternoon, Miss Page. I take it you know who I am.”

“Yes, Madame President. Of course. What do I owe this honor?”

Kickbutt raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what she expected, but she welcomed it. She looked slightly amused, but mostly unphased. “I’m afraid it won’t be news that you’ll be able to fully appreciate at the moment, but it is imperative.”

“Is Max okay? Is Henry alright?” Charlotte asked, panicking.

“Max is doing a stellar job. This is the most impressed with his work that I have ever been. You should know that he is very deep undercover, and now has ties to at least 12 high profile Russian supervillains, terrorists, and mobsters. At least one of them is suspected of being a spy, so he is unable to do ANYTHING that could possibly draw attention to something outside of his fabricated identity.”

“Including any contact with me.”

“Especially any contact with you. It’s the people closest to us that bring out our most vulnerabilities. I’m afraid that until we have solid evidence and have made every possible arrest that we are unable to risk him venturing outside of the parameters of this mission.”

“He’s… not just hero-ing? He’s on a high profile case???”

“It was not our intention, but it’s the way that things have happened. Whenever he caught the attention of an assassin who took an immediate liking to him, he leaned into it and now, we’re here. This unfortunately means that any visitation plans must be altered. As of right now, Henry is only acknowledged as a financial connection for him, so he is not watched as much and will be allowed to come to visit you for Thanksgiving. Your little friend Jasper insisted that the world would end if I wasn’t able to accommodate this. But. There is no way that we can risk Max coming outside of the boundaries of his assignment, currently. Millions of lives could be at stake if we lose just one of the 12 persons of interest.”

“Max is isolated and surrounded by terrorists and mobsters…”

Kickbutt shrugged, “He’s moving up in ranks, so he should be fine. And he’s one of the smartest young men to have ever worked for me. I assure you, as long as his cover isn’t blown, he will not be in any danger.”

“Are you able to communicate with him, at all? Does he… have someone near him?” Charlotte asked, twiddling with her shapeshifting necklace, anxiously.

“He has a handler. My very own daughter. And, he still has Henry, Miss Page.” Charlotte nodded her head and within moments, the call was over. He still had Henry. That helped her to be able to make it through the day… Not so much to sleep at night.

.

Henry was Ricardo Richfield and everybody called him Richie Rich. Jasper was his “simple plaything” or “trophy husband” to everybody. His alias was Douglas Ritchfield and according to the paper trail created for their safety, he and Ricardo had been married for three years. The mansion that they were moved into was big enough that it was extremely unlikely that anyone would come across the underground lair, and Max’s lab was one of those where someone could definitely find it and see into parts of it, but they couldn’t access it.

So, the first weekend that they were in Russia, they threw a huge party to celebrate Richie coming to Russia. The story was that he had done some things in the Americas and was hiding out here to avoid “justice.” He was supposed to be laying low and staying out of trouble, but the personality of his character was to absolutely not do that. He was a spoiled little rich kid playing gangster games and that would mean that he might attract those who may wish to do business with him.

Borya was a Russian scientist who he would make rich by funding his experiments. Max came up with these aliases for them, avoiding the typical “lay low and be mild mannered” and reaching more for, “Get into the thick of the crime world and bust it up from the inside out.” Henry and Jasper didn’t have many talents that could be impressed upon the criminal element, so Max settled for the “useless rich kid and even more useless lover” angle. That way, he could also express anytime they frustrated him, in Russian and they wouldn’t know, but the people around them would and it would probably be funny.

Max had a little bit of familiarity with Russian, because some of his favorite scientists were Russian and he’d watched several recordings of them, so he recognized a lot of words and also had their accent pretty well down pat. (Same for German, and Japanese, but that’s another point altogether). Max adjusted well to Russia.

As soon as they were away from Charlotte, he focused on some mental exercises to try to compartmentalize her away. The thing of it was that in trying to do that, he wound up just thinking about her more. She became his meditation center.

He would wake up everyday, brush teeth, wash up, burn one of her favorite candles and hope that she knew he was thinking of her as he tried to clear his mind and empty himself out for another day of work. Another day of pretending.

It didn’t take long for him to get his foot in the door of something very heavy. It was at the party that he met Zenovia. She was looking into his lab when he approached and directed her back towards the party.

“What are you making in there? Looks illegal,” she teased. He frowned, gripped her arm and forced her down the hallway, only to be met with a battle. She was a trained fighter. He instinctively defended himself, despite the fact that it wasn’t actually part of his character’s background to be able to fight the way that he did. “Who ARE you, really?” she wondered.

“Just someone who wants to live long enough to be rich and powerful,” he said.

“I can probably help you with that.” And just like that, she began introducing him to people and saying that in his lab, she could tell he was smart and that he could probably do jobs that they needed a scientist of questionable moral fiber to handle. He… handled a few things. It was troubling, but he had to weigh out sacrifices. The more that he did, the less he wanted to think about Charlotte. He didn’t want her to be a part of this world he had gotten involved in. He even withdrew from Henry. 

Whenever it was time for Henry and Jasper to go to home for Thanksgiving, Jasper asked if there was anything that he wanted them to bring Charlotte and all he could think was his apologies. Instead, he said, “Hopefully, I’ll see her at Christmas.” he couldn’t think about her too much. That could make it all so hard for him. He and Henry had inadvertently received a bigger assignment than planned whenever they got to their station and while Henry was mostly doing his best at being the residential superhero, while Max only sometimes could act, if Henry was going to be gone, Max would have to be responsible for hero tasks AND be undercover. That was the most difficult placement he had ever had and he couldn’t dare allow himself any distractions. Not right now. She would understand. And if she couldn’t, he would eventually make it up to her.

Charlotte was at Henry’s parents’ house whenever he and Jasper arrived and they joyously screamed whenever they saw each other, hugging and hopping and all talking at once. Henry glanced around, “Where are my parents?”

“We literally haven’t seen either of them all week,” Charlotte said, shaking her head.

Jasper wondered, “Were you able to get everything that I messaged you for the feast?”

“Yeah. Who do you think you’re talking to?” She asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows and said, “Umm, only the youngest crisis management specialist in the state…” She fought off a smile and he shook his head and excitedly yelled, “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW JOB!!!”

She smiled bashfully and shook her head, “I’m in a probationary period, and only even working with police forces of Swellview, Neighborville, Bordertown and Hiddenville… I’m gunning for that Metroburg spot, but it has literally NEVER gone to a non-supe and I need to build my resume and finish my next degree.”

The boys dropped their things in the living room and the mood got a little tense for a moment as Henry and Jasper glanced at each other, silently deciding who would say something about it. She stopped smiling for a while and just said, “Maybe, I’ll be able to see him at Christmas!” She tried to pretend that she was fine, but secretly stalking his alias on social media and seeing how he seemed to be spending his holidays with Zenovia was heartbreaking.

This wasn’t like when Jack was surrounded by fans and given numerous declarations of love from his fan base. It should have been similar, but this woman was always tagging Borya and they seemed very close. She knew that it was business, but it was also undercover and she wasn’t basic. She knew that… whatever the reasons, there was something else there that, while it probably was only business for him… it bothered her.

Henry tried to distract her from her sorrows and Jasper stole her phone and hid it to keep the obvious obsessing to a minimum.

Once the guys were full of food, wine and beer, she was still functional. Sometimes, you gotta push through that itis, and that was definitely what she was used to. Henry had fallen asleep on the couch. Jasper was sitting on the floor near him, with his head leaned back, mouth wide open, and she noted that Henry’s phone was on the table.

Before the move, Henry’s phone might as well had been her second phone. She knew all of his passwords and everything. So, she figured that since she couldn’t access Max through her own, Henry’s should be as easy for her.

It wasn’t a holiday in Russia, so she figured that he was probably just chilling, if not working and if he was working, Henry’s phone would be the best out, anyway. She opened Richie’s social media and saw Borya hearted a lot of things in the notifications. She checked and saw that they were mostly photos with her in them. She wasn’t tagged and the photos were set to private, so Henry must’ve allotted for Max to see them. Then, she went to check Max’s page - which was usually private and only had a few public posts that she could stalk, but since Richie and Borya were friends, she could see more and she hated to see it.

The woman, Zenovia was all over Max in public settings, their faces were really close in several photos, and if Charlotte’s translations were correct, she called him by affectionate names in comments on things. The ONLY thing that was a little bit of reprieve was the fact that Max had not posted anything about her. She sort of just barged into his space by tagging him to things and commenting. But… Still… Charlotte opened Henry’s texts and found his exchanges with Max.

“You shouldn’t do this, Girl. You already know what it is and it’s business and that’s it and he has responsibilities and…” She closed the app. She couldn’t violate his privacy or Henry’s that way. She set it down and wondered if this was going to aggravate her for the rest of her life. Probably. But, she wasn’t going to spy on Max. Lurking his social media because she missed him was one thing. Invading the privacy of his relationship with Henry was on another level and she felt like she had more morals than that.

Instead, she picked up the phone again and texted, “Dude, if you possibly can, I think you need to try to reach out to Charlotte.” She watched as Max typed, stopped and resumed, and finally, eventually the reply came.

“I find it incredible that you would be so reckless as to mention her name in a text. What if Zenovia had this phone? What if she was right next to me? What if one of the others were. I’m extremely disappointed by this and you need to promptly delete it.”

She replied. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. This is Charlotte. Henry fell to sleep…” Her heart was pounding in her throat and her hands were all sweaty and she couldn’t remember the last time that something made her this nervous. Then, the phone began to vibrate in her hand and the name Borya the Beast flashed with a photo of Max. She took a deep breath and answered, “Hello?”

Max felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Recalling her voice and hearing her voice were very different things and it had been months. “Hello.” His chest was on fire and he had never wanted to rush to somebody more than he did right now. “So, you’re… playing on people’s phones?”

“I was… Just lonely. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about… I didn’t think. Are you pretty mad?”

“I was mad when I thought it was him,” he said, with a chuckle, then to someone in the background, he said something in Russian like ‘Taking this outside’ or ‘Going outside for a moment,’ or something like that. She only got the word for “outside.” It wasn’t terribly noisy on her end, but she could bet that it was more difficult for him to hear on that end. Plus, he probably needed privacy to chew her out for this little stunt. When it was quiet on his end, his voice was clearer and she could hear gentleness in it, “So… Please don’t do that, ever again, okay?” She nodded, blinking out her tears. “Char? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry, I won’t. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

“I know what came over you. We haven’t been able to talk or see each other in four months and believe me, I KNOW how hard it is. It’s torture for me, and I think you care just as much about me as I do about you, so I think it’s as hard for you…”

“No… I mean, yes, but also… You’re big on family and spending time with them and now it’s the holidays and your folks are all celebrating in Hiddenville, but you’re thousands of miles from home, surrounded by people who aren’t even your friends, and on top of that, I miss you. I miss you, but I worry, too. About the danger and the enemies, and the double life… that… woman…”

He was being emotionally stirred up, up until “that woman.” Then, he asked, “What woman?”

“You know, the one that keeps tagging you to photos of you and her all over each other and practically sexting with you in the comments sections of said photos. Zenovia.”

He shut his eyes tightly and whispered, “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“I know that. But, still… It’s hard to watch..”

“You aren’t supposed to be watching. You’re supposed to be keeping a safe distance, physically and electronically. Charlotte… She is a very dangerous person. I don’t ever want you to leave a trail to yourself that she could find. She’s evil and ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you. She’s also got a soft spot for me and being close to her makes it easier for me to get closer to Russian overlords. Had I not utilized that attachment, it might have taken twice as long, maybe even longer to get where I am. Just… don’t watch for this stuff. I can’t break character, and I can’t get distracted…” She sniffled and he sighed. He hated making her cry. He knew that there was no way around it, with this subject matter, but he still hated it. “I love you,” he said, softly.

“I love you, too,” she said. It was the quickest she had ever replied it and he had to remind himself that millions of lives could be affected if he failed. Because he just wanted to jump in the jet and hold her and kiss her and look her in the eyes and promise her that everything he did was to make sure that he did his job and lived to return to her.

“Hey, whenever this is over, maybe you should just marry me and become part of my cover,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Yeah. I should,” she said. He couldn’t tell what he was hearing in her voice, but he hadn’t expected her to say that. She hadn’t laughed, so he didn’t know if she took it as a joke, and she didn’t inflect her voice, so he wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or trying to contain some anger. “I should’ve come with you. It’s not like I couldn’t work from there. I chose my career.”

“Well… it’s going good, though! I’ve seen the reports done on you in your local news outlets. You’re right out of college and already securing the bag. That’s amazing, Charlotte. I wouldn’t have asked you to trade that in for me.”

“You’re saving a multitude of lives,” she reminded him.

“While losing the love of mine…” he said so softly she might not have heard him if he weren’t in complete silence.

“You’re not,” she said. She took a deep breath and assured him, “I can handle it. I knew well enough what I signed up for. You know… When military personnel is deployed, sometimes there’s absolutely NO WORD from them for months and only snippets of visits. And their purpose is questionable. You’re a true hero and… I can do this. I have to. Or what? I get to feel the way that I felt tonight for even longer, while I try to get over you, or worst case scenario, for the rest of my life, because I never can? The options outside of sucking it up and being patient until we can be together again all seem miserable.” She sniffled, “Is there any way that you can arrange for me to come to see you?”

He sighed a sigh of relief. The moment Zenovia was mentioned, he was certain that a breakup was soon to follow. Charlotte reaffirming that she believed in him and in them was something he didn’t realize that he needed so much to get him through all of this. “I’ll think of something.”

[softschofield]

interesting, interesting, interesting! the rumours are true, i’ve been a fool. SO, we know our convoy truck boys are mostly from the 10th battalion of the worcestershire regiment, but i completely failed to account for the fact that captain smith refers to them as “the casuals” - with a casual, or transient, in the military being “personnel at a post, station, or port to which they are not assigned or attached, and having destination elsewhere; or an individual awaiting orders, transport, etc.” basically, in this context, someone who’s separated from the battalion to which they’re usually attached, for whatever reason. which MEANS that i was right to be suspect about the red x’s on most of the battalion’s sleeves, because they AREN’T worcestershire boys, meaning parry and atkins are still part of an as yet unknown regiment, but that the worcestershires have been traveling with them since at LEAST bapaume, and probably longer.

so either they’re just catching a lift back to their own regiment because colonel collins’ battalion just happened to be nearby, available, and convenient, and either they were given direct orders to pick them up, or cooke was so feral, butler’s glare so chilling, and rossi and jondalar so convincing that smith and collins just agreed to pick up these bedraggled, somewhat intimidating hitchhikers on the side of the road; OR they’ve been serving with them. either way, it’s almost certain then that they were on a stretch of trench near the old somme battlefields.

for whatever reason - because they have just recently been released from hospital, because they were assigned to make up numbers on a different stretch of the line and the rest of their lot got killed, who knows - ONLY the following characters are worcestershires, or, in this case, casuals traveling with a battalion that isn’t their own: malky, butler, cooke, jondalar and most LIKELY rossi, going by how familiar he seems with that little group, plus three or four extras. we know for certain that jondalar is one of them because he’s able to mimic beaufort. the other soldiers in that truck, so about half, are part of parry and atkins’ regiment, as is the entire rest of the convoy. so, really, that just adds another wonderful layer that i’ve been too much of a dumb dumb to realise: they’re so close-knit and so dependent on each other because they are literally traveling in a convoy with 200 strangers.

rossi’s “welcome aboard the night bus to fuck knows where” could then be meant in a literal sense - they might genuinely not know where they’re going, because either they’ve just gone to smith “ayo we’re from the worcestershires, no idea where they are at the moment, could you give us a lift” and smith went “brilliant timing, we’re all heading to the same place” and to each other they’re like “oh well that doesn’t fucking sound good does it”, or they’ve been sent orders from their regiment to join them. so they’re just exhausted and disoriented, and they’ve been on the go and constantly in and out of the truck since before dawn across no man’s land, and they have no fucking idea where they are or where they’re going. i mean, looking at them now, they’re so TIRED. cooke is genuinely about to keel over. they’ve been traveling for days probably. all the other soldiers in the other trucks - they’re downright chirpy by comparison, they’ve probably come straight from reserve. and then you have this ragtag bunch of gays. i love them.

which is then ALSO interesting when you add the FURTHER layer of captain beaufort! why isn’t the story about captain smith? because he isn’t their captain, he’s just their warden for the time being. beaufort is part of whatever company they’re heading up to.

and, okay, stop the presses. i finally got a good, clear-ish look at the badge on rossi’s helmet, and as far as i can make out it’s “SR” surrounded by a wreath and topped by a crown… which… it isn’t the insignia of the cameronians (scottish rifles)… but part of me wants to hesitantly fit him into that regiment. they fought at the battle of the scarpe (arras), and by 1917, they were no longer wearing kilts as battle dress and had, for the most, given up their fabric caps in favour of brodie helmets - which, check, check, check. rossi clearly isn’t wearing the worcestershire patch, and the patch he IS wearing is one i don’t recognise - and since there are literally hundreds of regiments that i have to (and will, don’t try me, i want to know how parry and atkins fit into this conspiracy) go through to find it if it IS one of their insignias, i’m more than happy to go with my idea that he’s part of the royal signal corps.

and if he IS attached to the scottish rifles, that would therefore mean that his dress uniform is a green doublet and douglas tartan trews, which is… quite frankly a powerful image. and cooke would choke if he saw him in that. BUT it would also mean that he’s not a worcestershire and that his traveling with cooke, jondalar, butler, and malky is therefore entirely coincidental and that he’ll have to leave them at the end of their journey. which is tragic, but also has the opportunity to be super fucking sweet if you take into account 1) the fact that he’s clearly bonded so closely with them in such a short amount of time, and 2) falling in love with a stranger you’ve just met on a roadtrip and then having to go your separate ways but you keep thinking about them every day and then you find each other again after the war. star-crossed lovers. soulmates who meet in passing.

but then rossi and jondalar are already exchanging halfs of a bff heart necklace!!!!!

maybe rossi is just laughing along to their beaufort story even though he doesn’t know who he is or the context of it just because he already loves these boys!!!!

much to think about.

also, i never noticed the huge gash on rossi’s cheekbone until i watched the scene on a small screen. what has happened to him!!!!! all the others are spotless and one side of rossi’s face is bloody and scabbed over? what has he BEEN through. and it’s fresh! so it must have happened literally just before the convoy picked him up. or it happened in no man’s land - those german stragglers smith mentioned. it really does look like a bullet graze. did he join the convoy and then immediatly get wounded? instantaneous hurt/comfort potential? or did he show up all pretty and scottish and bloody and cooke went oop. i’m gay.

much, much, much to think about in this trying time.

in conclusion, it’s possible that rossi is just a lone signaller - left behind to take photos of a battlefield, or report to someone, or repair something, or he was in hospital - who has been picked up by the convoy, or he’s attached to the worcestershires, OR he’s attached to the scottish rifles and has been separated from his regiment for whatever reason. BUT the way rossi interacts with the convoy boys - the ease and the familiarity - really implies that the intention was for the audience to assume they’re all together. so, facts aside, i truly believe krysty intended us to think they were all a package deal. 

tl;dr: only cooke, malky, butler, and jondalar are worcestershires; parry and atkins have been dropped back into the “i haven’t got a goddamn clue” box; and rossi may be a lone scottish rifle who just happens to be travelling with the worcestershires on the way to the scarpe. the 1917 crew really said “let’s leave enough breadcrumbs to make a fucking meal.”

thanks for watching me slowly lose my mind x 

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

What’s wrong? (Tj Hammond) (Pt.1)

Characters: Bi!TJ Hammond x Asian!Female!Reader

Summary: You're an overseas worker and is in a relationship with TJ, but people can't seem to accept the differences between you both even by financially and background wise.

Warning: Kisses. Public making out. Mention of threesome but no lemon. Lmao. HOT, SEXY GIF'S which can make your phone fly. No angst yet. Annoying racist journalist. Mention of doing the birds and the bees but it wasn't written. Heehee!

Words: 4000+ (IT'S LONG AF. 😂 There’s a part 2 which will be posted soon if ya want?)

A/N: I always tend to write long ass oneshots for TJ Hammond. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Because maybe I'm the only one enjoying this? Lmao. GO BE CRAZY WITH YOUR FEEDBACKS, TATER TOTS! IT’S TIME FOR SOME ASIAN FEMALE READERS!

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS.

"They're not gonna accept me, Teej." Your heart sank from the moment those words came out of your lips, it was like a curse that made your heart feel heavier with every beat. Those were just the mere, honest truth that was inevitable to come out.

You didn't want to beat behind the bush. From the moment TJ asked you to be his partner for the engagement party that was soon to happen for Douglas and Annie, the anxiety crept up your heart, jumping towards your head that made you speak the honest truth.

You knew deep down that your ethnicity and your background was making it difficult for you, for the both of you and for everyone.

TJ immediately sensed the disheartened change in your voice as he was mindlessly trying to help chop the vegetables needed, standing in front of the kitchen island. On the other hand, you were preparing the beef for the Stir fried noodles you opted to make, in request to the whiny Hammond boy living in yours and his apartment.

You felt gentle arms snake around your waist and instantly you knew whose arms were that from. Tj leaned down, his head beside yours as he adjusted to your five foot one height. You felt his lip on your cheek, peppering soft kisses till he reached your ear. "Am I hearing you right? Was that a whine I heard? As far as I know, I'm the whiny boyfriend here," Tj whispered and chuckled, feeling his hot breath fanning against your ear made you quietly gush in his arms.

"Thomas! Stop, You know I got the tickles there!"

Tj felt the need to be playful, in account to your saddened state. He continued blowing at your ear, "Oh, so now I'm only Thomas to you?" Chuckles and giggles rang around your apartment. Joyful laughters that was perfect to record and watch at any time of the day. Tj haven't been that happy since his recent breakup. From a political fool who he thought had loved him, but end up abusing and using the love he has been giving in the end.

Despite of his crestfallen, past relationship, you suddenly came along. He was utterly depressed and went back to being a druggie. After months have passed of being clean, the addiction came along after the heartbreak. Yet, it was stopped once again from the moment you came along. Basically, you were the rainbow after his rain and he ought to see the light from you forever glowing.

"Hey, hey," Tj pulled you away from your wandering, negative thoughts. Never forgetting to give your head a kiss, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body, "You gotta stop being a pessimist," He cocked his head, an eyebrow rising as he collected his thoughts, "Just..relax, everything's going to be fine I swear,"

You turned the gas range off, sighing and whipping around once you did, meeting a very soft, sweet looking Hammond boy whose eyes were the prettiest out of all the blues out there. Your lip was now in between your teeth, biting the flesh from overthinking what was bound to happen soon. "You always say that, and I'd rather expect the worst, Teej because you're in a relationship with me."

"What's wrong being in a relationship with you? I don't find anything wrong about it," He sassily shrugged, caressing your hip with his thumbs in utmost tenderness, "Anne's Asian, from a different ethnicity but they don't get to say their complaints or problems about it, Y/N."

You bit your lip harder, eyebrows furrowing from thinking too deep, "Anne's from a wealthy family, Tj. And I'm...I'm..from trash,"

"Which I was lucky to find because I have rummaged a diamond in the dumps," He chuckled, his laugh sounding angelic to you. You fought off a smile, the anxiety was still swallowing you whole, making everything more complicated for you. "It's not funny, you're just making my anxiety worse,"

Tj had to put more effort in distracting you, and so he tried harder. "Come on, Baby. Lighten up, nothing's gonna happen, it's going to be a boring day for us because the party was probably a way to bring those stormtroopers all together," He licked his lips, looking at you straight in the eyes with such shine that could make your heart go all putty. "Just be my plus one, be the good girl you are while we suffer this together, Deal?"

"I dunno, Teej. What do I get in return upon agreeing to this so called...deal of yours?" You purred, tracing the outline of his pectorials bulging out of his tight black shirt. A lopsided smile on your lips.

"Hmm," Tj playfully hummed, his head falling till he reached your ear, never forgetting to give it a tender bite, "Maybe some steamy shower with me, I suppose?" The naughty Hammond boy suggested with a tiny chuckle, his voice dropping an octave lower, even with a suggestive tone that reached down inside your pantaloons, making you squirm in his grasp. "That is..if you're up to it?"

"But--how about the food--" You stammered, finding it hard to say no.

"We could always start with the dessert first, Love." and you certainly didn't object after that.

                                                 ✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

Tons of people with class that were worth a million dollars came lounging in. Small talks, and fake hi's were their main objective. Wealthy, power hunger crocodiles seem to sound appropriate for their understandable behaviors. Other people appeared to enjoy communicating with anyone whom they can see as wealthy and famous, making them look like a total gold digger or a social climber who likes to be friends with people whom are high-class.

Everything that was happening around you was making you shake your head in animosity. Another set of anxiety creeping you in. How did you even end up in Tj's home when everybody had given you the stink eye, jealous, thirsty women scanning your appearance and history from head to foot if that was even possible.

They were probably wondering how Tj was in a relationship with a substandard woman like you who lived in the eastern part of the world. Well, Sexuality-wise..They were certainly stunned to see the former first son gay icon renegade turned miraculously bisexual, acting all touchy-feely and having thoughts inside their judgemental minds as to why he kept staring at you, looking all lovestruck and whipped.

"Y/N!!! Sweetheart!" You jumped from the huge, beige couch as you lounged beside your boyfriend. A half empty Martini in hand. You could see Margareth, Tj's grandmother marching your way. Her hips swaying with her heels. Her smile never fading once she saw how you still kept your relationship with her complicated grand son, Thomas.

"Tj's keeping you all to himself! This kid can be selfish when he wants to," Margareth complained, her voice shaky and senile but a little bit too hyper for her age. She never forgot to playfully smack her grand son's head, "Aw! Nana!" Tj complained with a sweet smile drawn on his face. A smile that Margareth remembered when he was still a child back in the white house.

Finally, she thought. It was time she got her grand son back.

"Hey, Nana!" You chimed, a huge grin plastered on your face. Truthfully delighted to see somebody whom gave your heart that warm, familiar feeling. Margareth grabbed you in a hug once you stood up to hug her. Yet, you were too slow to be first. "Y/N," She murmured as she cut the hug. Staring right back at you with a sweet smile while she reached for your face. "I'm really happy you keep my grand son in check and completely elated like who he was back then," Nana muttered, taking glances back at Tj who was busy chatting with one of Elaine's friend.

"Please, don't leave him like how that asshole did, Y/N. I don't know what he'll do next when you do, sweetheart."

"I don't plan to, Nana." You gave a crooked smile, adding a giggle on the end. Your words repeating inside your mind like a mantra. Did you really not thought about that? Margareth smiled, lightly tapping your right cheek with a laugh. "Good," She grabbed another Margarita from one of the waiters who were strolling around, promptly sipping on it. "You're perfect for this family,"

You fit in the family. But, that was in Nana's humble perspective. What about Dougie? Elaine? Especially Bud's point of view? Do they accept you though?

The party went on. It wasn't late yet, though as the time went on, more familiar people came in and began to join in the party. As an awkward human being, you stood on the middle of the floor. All alone sipping on your second Martini. Tj asked you to give him a minute because he had to talk to someone and probably get something in God knows where. You immediately gave your approval, giving him a sweet, innocent, tiny kiss on the lips before practically shoving him away before it took much more than you intended to.

Loud chatters can be heard, controversial topics that reached your ear made you want to raise a brow because of their judgemental thoughts that should be kept locked inside their poisonous minds. 'You sure they ain't putting up an act to cover Tj's real sexuality?' 'I bet he's using her,' 'Or probably it's the other way around, girl.'

'She seems like a lonely bitch,'

You crossed your arms against your chest, the anger bubbling up till it reached your head. Giving you a minor, temporary headache. In your peripheral vision, you could see Tj from the bar, talking to Nana and her circle of friends, with a precious smile on his gorgeous face. It was all glitters and rainbows in his part.

On the other hand, yours were full of shit. You cussed inside the back of your mind. The thick-faced women giggled and they were quite close to you. They probably intended to let you hear their conversation, to stir you up and mess with your temper. Especially that journalists and reporters were around, waiting for something to happen so they could add it in their drafts.

You ignored them the best you can. Nonetheless, there was always one person who'll irk you and even try to stir up the kindness in you that could change into rage. You sipped on your cocktail drink while staring at the piano in curiosity. Does Tj know how to play? You mindlessly thought inside your mind. Oh, you were about to know and ask him about it. There was a lingering warm presence behind you, and you instantly smiled from ear to ear. Speak of the devil..

However, to your surprise a woman with blue eyes stood tall in front of you. Appearing to have this sense of pride that she was one successful woman. You could tell from head to toe and it made you feel so tiny and unworthy that you were welcomed to join in the party.

"Will you be so kind to answer these questions that I have for you? Ms..??" The lady humbly asked, an innocent smile that hid behind a wicked scheme she had in mind. You couldn't even believe her. How can she ask for an interview from a person whom she doesn't know his/her name?

What a fool indeed.

"Y/N." You kept a short answer, a tight smile on show as you sighed out loud which made the reporter raise a brow from your dissatisfaction. How dare you act annoyed when you should feel delighted to be interviewed even though you were one substandard woman whom Thomas Hammond obviously made his worst mistake. The woman thought through her fake smile planted on her thick, injected lips.

"So, let's start off with something simpler, Y/N." She paused, acting all modest with the fakest smile you have ever seen. "Tj's??"

If she wanted to appear stupid, then it was best to say the stupidest answers as well. You breathed in deep breaths. Take it with your big girl panties. You can do this. You can. "Supportive wife?" You spoke as a matter of fact. Snorting a little when you saw her jaw tighten.

The brunette woman couldn't help but snicker, sneaking a tiny roll of her eyes. "I don't see a ring," She snapped, laughing to herself and eyeing you from head to toe. "Or a collar?" She smirked when you kept your hands on your sides, fists completely tight, trying hard not to make a scene. No. Never stoop down to her level, Y/N.

"Hmm," She fixed the lapels of her black blazer, "Obviously, you're the girlfriend. I'm not an idiot, Ms. Y/N."

Your nerves was seriously ticking like a time bomb that was ready to explode. "Really? You seem to be a much bigger idiot than me when you asked for my name, but the truth is..I know you knew who I was," You breathed out harshly, not wanting to start and send off rude remarks that could have endless rebuttals. "If I'm an idiot then why do I own a big advertising company..Unlike you," Miss reporter held her head high with her tall height, eyeing you from head to toe again like it was her nasty habit. "I don't work at any Ching-chong restaurants that spits rice, noodles or kimchi's,"

Well, that made you face palm.

"Do you have any more racist comments that could honestly move me? Because that comment sucks so bad," You held a finger under your eye, trying to wipe away imaginary tears. "Cry me a river, woman."

Tj laughed a boisterous one from what grandma Mercedith just said. She was one of Nana's bestest friend and a sweetheart indeed. Margareth noticed that Y/N wasn't with her grandson, and so she questioned.

"Tj, where's Y/N?"

The latter smiled, those smiles that held teeth and was too picturesque not to ogle at. Nana couldn't help but lift her lips too. "Oh, over there." Tj gestured behind him, towards where the party was, never looking back. Margareth glanced where he was pointing to and saw that Y/N is being interrogated by the infamous reporter slash journalist slash owner of an almost bankrupt advertising company who had no good thing to do but make false hypothesis about every issue especially when it was about the Hammond family.

"Tj," Nana started, sounding disturbed. "If I were you, I won't go leaving Y/N in a place full of sharks wanting to munch on a bait," She pointed towards where Y/N and Rosalie Sparks where. They seem to be exchanging heated conversations because she could see how Y/N was keeping herself together. "The Sasquash is on the move, honey."

"What?" Tj turned their backs away from them. A stern frown appeared to be on show for the folks to see. Finally acknowledging what his Nana has been saying and there they were. His girlfriend and an annoying woman who was planning to offend and get something out of his girlfriend. What was new?

"How's it feel to be unaccepted in the Hammond family? Especially that we know Bud doesn't take a liking on you because of how incompetent you are and how pitiable your family is," Rosalie Spark's chatted like what she was saying are compliments that was meant to fill the heart. Though, it was filling it with dread and anger. "Rich people deserve to only be with rich people too," She clucked on her wine glass with her fancy gold ring, grinning in the process. "While the peasants deserve to stay in the dumps,"

You zipped your mouth. Never stoop down. Never. Silence is the best way to talk back because you knew you were educated, matured and old enough to know how immature she was acting.

"I'm honestly disgusted by Tj Hammond's tastes are in women," She continued, more like talking to herself because you weren't speaking. "Or he's probably just confused for the second time and is actually really..reallyyy into men," The bitch exaggerated.

"Because if I'm in a relationship with you or--" She held her mouth, supressing a giggle that made you want to throw a glass at her. "--to be unluckily sleeping with you, I'll just be gay for all my life, Y/N."

You could feel your eyes turning hotter as each second pass by. God, you were such a pathetic baby. Why had you even agreed to go the party? Obviously because Tj begged you to come with him.

Not a second has passed by when you felt a warm presence snake beside you, and it took you long enough to realize that it was finally your Tj by the looks of his black dress shirt and all black attire. An arm moved around you, clutching onto your waist and Tj felt you were shaking. Probably from anger because that's just who you are.

You'd rather stay quiet despite of how people attack you, you'd rather be kind to rude people than to offend them back and that's how Tj knew you were one of a kind. A special one.

Before you knew it, your heart skipped a beat from the moment he held your jaw with his hand. Ushering your face to look at him, and with one dip of his head he had you enthralled in his spell that could calm you down in the sweetest way. Tj kissed you, right in front of that annoying journalist to probably irritate the heck out of her. He locked your lips with his, teasingly lunging the tip of his tongue inside your parted lips as he closed his eyes. Acknowledging the effect you could only give to him.

You couldn't help but envelope your arms around his figure as you kiss him deep, biting on his lower lip that made you both smirk from how she was certainly already uncomfortable. Physical contact makes people feel awkward. Tj preed his eyes open, seeing the woman with a pathetic aggravated face that made him chuckle as you both kiss.

Oh, she wasn't going anywhere is she?

Tj gave her a grin, never forgetting to give your lip a tender bite that made your insides go mushy and another sweet kiss that made your heart twerk. He was yours and yours alone. Only yours.

"Tiger twat," Tj answered so smoothly with that hot smolder as he looked deep into your eyes. Completely enticed by your spirit with an innocent smile written on his face that wasn't too innocent in your line of vision. You could see the grin and irk threatening to be shown on his beautiful features. Here, you thought he was calling you a tiger twat when it was actually sent to the reporter slash journalist who looked guilty because she seemed to be entirely shook.

"Isn't that your nickname in DC?" He finally gave attention to the tall, angry Sasquash who happened to rudely interview you.

"News spread so fast, Rosalie."

Your loving boyfriend grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made her pride and dignity shatter like fragile chinawares. "What's it like to have teeth down there?"

"Your girlfriend's a bitch," Her ego was wavering yet that didn't stop her from trying to have the last laugh. Rosalie hardly bit the insides of her cheeks, remembering the awful night when the famous Tj Hammond who was out and wasted in his club and miraculously happened to reject her amazing, stunning self.

Oh, did she had a petty little crush on him so that was why she was acting so hostile towards you.

"No," Tj shook his head, a wicked grin threatening to come out and a lot of nasty sentences that could get her to crumble. "You're the bitchest out of all the bitch, Rosalie." He chuckled, his arm retreating from your waist as you saw him took a step forward till he reached her ear, bending down to whisper whatever he needed to.

"Don't come attacking my woman when you're still salty about that night," Tj harshly whispered on her ear, his voice turning an octave lower but definitely more harsh, breath hot and fanning, making her toes curl with want and hunger. "I remembered it so well," He chuckled, a sinister one. "I remembered how you were trying to get in my pants, yet my gay self didn't happen to find you attractive nor worth to fuck for a threesome,"

"Besides, I wouldn't want my dick to get chewed by that dry, loose, wrinkly, smelly twat, Sparks."

And just like that, she huffed and was in the verge of crying her frustrations out once she stomped her foot as she retreated. Making Tj form a wide smile that could make your insides turn a twist. What did he say that made the woman act like a bratty crybaby?

"Thomas," You started, seeing Tj walk back to you, enveloping his arms around your waist, leaning down to give you another peck on the lips but you were quick to maneuver your head, making him chase your lips with his. "Thomas," You repeated more sternly but quietly this time. He looked like he was a little smashed. Was he? you hoped he hadn't sniffed anything that could dissapoint you. "Nobody has the right to talk to you like that," He shockingly spat out in aggravation, looking deep in thought as he gorgeously stared into your eyes.

"What did you say to her?"

He shook his head, licking his lips as he whispered. "Nothing. It's not important, Sugar." His eyes was now trained on your lips, looking like he wanted to devour it all night. You couldn't help but smile. "Are you drunk?"

Your Tj drank in all of your beautiful features. Seeming to be mesmerized by your soul. "No, I'm not. I promise," He took a breather, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "I just love you too much. I can't stand them treating you that way,"

"Now, kiss me." He hastily puckered, dipping his head down for the third time and you were quick to adorably cover his mouth like the conservative person you are. "Tj, we're in the middle of--"

Tj didn't hide the roll of his eyes, showing you how much of a kill joy you were. "Do you think I give a damn?" He spoke against your palms, sounding muffled. "Y/NNNNNN,"

You internally rolled your eyes. He was such a baby. Your big baby. "Fine,"

He kissed your palms, planting a loud kissy sound that made people glance your way, his eyes turning adorable crescent moons once you dropped your palms off his lips. "I love youuuu," Tj puckered for the fourth time before grabbing your face in his hands. Kissing the daylights out of you in the middle of an engagement party. Apparently, it was Dougie and Anne's party yet it seemed like you were both having the engagement.

SCREAM OUT FEEDBACKS IF YA WANT A PART 2 OF THIS ONE SHOT BECAUSE THIS HASSSS A SECOND PART TO IT!!!!

XOXO, TATA

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Children

My brain is mush again, thanks

Anyway The Wayhaven Chronicles is my current obsession, still, and writing Adam is absolutely one of the most difficult things I’ve done. Sorry if what I post comes out a little OOC, I just really wanted to see Adam and Rory’s children interacting. It ended up being mostly just one of them, but I really hope you all enjoy. 

I love getting to write for people.

Very mild spoilers for Book Two. This is mostly time ambiguous, happening sometime after the events of book one, in the future. Also points to pronoun-fluid characters. You’ll see what I mean.

*blows kisses to the sky* Thank you Seraphine for writing this masterful CoG and giving me inspiration. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It wasn’t like the detective to not pick up their phone. Adam knew this, knew it like he knew the back of his hand, or when Felix was about to cause a whole hell of a lot of mischief. Rory should have responded by now. His fingers twitched as he paced the living room, ignoring the knowing grin on Nate’s face. They have their own life, they won’t be attached to their phone all the time, another part of him argued. It wasn’t like he needed to see them. It was a small matter, confirming that Rory was still showing up tonight for more combat training. Still…. “Adam.” His head snapped up at the mention of his name, his hands releasing their destructive grip on the dining room table. There would have to be another order to replace it. He’d left a mark. “My child hasn’t responded to any of my calls,” Rebecca Argent said, walking up to the living room. “Would you mind doing me a favor and checking up on them? I would, but I have a conference call in fifteen minutes.” She gave him a thankful smile as he nodded, the motion curt, and watched him stride out of the room. “Thank you, Agent Argent. I was afraid he was going to wear a hole in the floor.” Adam heard Rebecca chuckle softly as he walked away. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Agent Sewell. I was just concerned about the table.” As the front door closed behind him, he missed Nate’s laughter in response.

-

A cool breeze swirled around the Wayhaven PD parking lot, kicking up a small dust storm that swirled and crumpled as it hit Adam's feet. It was a chilly afternoon, almost too cold for his liking, and he quietly relished the burst of warmth as he walked through the precinct doors. That strange, melancholy peace was immediately disrupted as a small form collided into his legs. "Oops! Sorry!" Looking down, he saw a young girl with a mass of wild curly blond hair, maybe six at the most. She rubbed her nose, pouting, before looking up. And up, and up. He watched as her eyes went round, noting bemusedly that they were same shade of green as Rory's. The same color as Detective Argent's. "Sorry mister!" She chirped, clearly unapologetic is the way children often are. Watching as he kneeled down to her level. "Be careful next time. You could hurt somebody, you know." He internally winced at the gruffness in his voice- his job didn't allow for much experience with children, and now was no exception. But the little girl simply giggled. "I don't think I could hurt you, you're buge!" Someone sighed, exasperated. "'Huge', Sage. The word you're looking for is 'huge'." The girl whirled around, and Adam had a brief second to meet Detective Rory Argent's eyes before they were being climbed like a tree, the small child quickly making her way to hang off their side. Rory seemed used to this, their eyebrow quirked in dry amusement. "Good morning, Adam. Glad to see you've already met one of my daughters." "Good-" rising to his feet, he stumbled over his words. …. Daughters? "Good morning, Detective. I was...unaware you had children." Thinking back, he tried to remember whether Agent Argent had mentioned any grandchildren, whether he'd seen any family photos in Rory's home. Not that he should have remembered it so well. The Detective's style was too much like his own. Too much like feeling like he belonged. Rory chuckled, adjusting Sage to their hip. Seemingly reading his mind, they tilted their head and said, "My mother was unaware of my children until recently if that's what you're trying to figure out. Our tumultuous relationship included a bone of contention- I sent her an invitation to the baby shower while I was pregnant with the twins, and she never responded. I assumed she wouldn't visit, I was living in Germany at the time. I didn't realize she wouldn't respond *at all*." He nodded, watching as an identical version of Sage moved to cling against Rory's leg. The other girl seemed to barely notice him at all, her nose stuck in a book. Unlike her sister, her hair was neatly braided back, a few curls wriggling free of their bonds to fall around her face. "Adam du Mortain," he snapped to attention the moment Rory said his name, unable to ignore the detective. Never able to ignore them. "This is Sage and Rosemary Dietrich. They're my twin daughters. Rosie girl, Sage, say hello to Agent Du Mortain." The child reading a book glanced up at him, seeming to shrink back a little more behind her father when she realized there was a very big person in front of her. "H-hello," she mumbled quietly, "it's nice to-" "It's nice to meet you! Hello! I'm Sage!" Her sister immediately interrupted, her voice loud and cheerful. She wiggled in Rory's arms. "Daddyyyyyy, I want down!” The detective sighed, giving Adam an exasperated look before they knelt down, setting their daughter on her feet. “Pumpkin, we’ve talked about this, you have to ask nicely…” The words they said seemed to fade for Adam as he watched, feeling his heart twist at seeing the softer side of Rory. The way they patted their daughter’s arm gently, tucking an errant lock away from her face, lovingly tugging away wrinkles and folds in her shirt, despite the fact that it was most likely a futile attempt. As the detective glanced up, their more excitable daughter slipping out of their arms and running off somewhere, they met Adam’s gaze. The world around them became almost nonexistent. Rory smiled, almost tenderly, and the Vampire felt his heart twist in his chest. “Adam,” the detective said softly, his name precious and treasured upon their lips, “Would you like to join me and the girls for-” The phone rang sharply, cutting through the air, and Rory made a face. “Hold on. I’ve got to get that. Rosie my girl, would you mind accompanying Agent Du Mortain to the round table?” The shyer daughter nodded, looking up at him and slipping her tiny hand into his. It seemed he had been vetted as a trusted person, at least for now. “This way,” she said solemnly, watching as her father ducked into their office. She tugged gently at his hand. He followed. Normally he would politely but firmly refuse, but he doubted the little girl would listen. And when large green eyes glanced back at him, checking to make sure he was still there, all of his resolve crumbled away. She looked too much like a miniature Rory, even with a big book tucked underneath her arm. Would he and the detective…? He immediately crushed that whisper in the back of his mind. No. He refused to even entertain that line of thought. The detective deserved better. It wouldn’t happen. Rosemary let go of his hand only to reach up and twist the doorknob, before swiftly reclaiming it once more. "This is the round table," she said solemnly. "Daddy and his knights meet here." Adam practically choked on a breath as she said that, leading him into the room. He was very familiar with it, seeing as it was where Unit Bravo and the Detective had met many times before. Rosemary tugged him over to the table, pushing herself onto one of the chairs and opening her book. Adam glanced down. Should he attempt to reclaim his fingers? He hesitated. The little girl likely had no idea what he was, what he had done. He felt so much animosity towards humans, and yet… She was so fragile. Rosemary settled easily, her eyes flicking across the words on the page. He could hear her heartbeat, the rush of her blood, the slow breaths in and out. The detective’s daughter was as confident and brave as they were, it seemed. Both of their daughters, although in seemingly different ways. Rosemary held onto his fingers, completely relaxed in his presence, and he couldn’t help but think that he didn’t deserve it. “Daddy’s going to be right back.” He glanced down at the girl in surprise, so lost in thought that he hadn’t realized she’d begun watching him in return. “He’s just got some phone calls. He’s important, you know. Daddy’s the king.” Adam quirked a brow, kneeling down. Even in the chair, she was small for a child. Now that they were at eye level, he responded in kind. “What is he the king of?” She shrugged, lifting up her book, struggling a bit with the weight of holding it one-handed. *Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and Other Tales*. “Daddy’s the king of Camelot,” she informed him loftily, as if he should be ashamed for not knowing such information. He bit back a smile at her tone. “My uncles and Z are his knights. Sage thinks that Verda’s Daddy’s grumpy jester, but I think it’s Douglas. His hair is silly.” She made a motion with her hand as if to show Douglas’s hair flipping up. “But Daddy added new knights to the story.” “Oh?” He felt the smile on his face try and widen, breaking through his serious demeanor. Rosemary’s solemn nod was too much like Rory’s, all business, direct and to the point. It made his heart ache sweetly, a melancholy that almost left him breathless. He understood now why the Detective hadn’t mentioned their daughters beforehand- all he wanted to do was wrap Rosemary up and hide her from the world. Hide her from people who would be looking for her father’s blood. “Yeah. He calls them the Knights of Bravo. Grandma, the old Queen, sent them to help protect Daddy.” She shrugged. “But Daddy can beat anyone, so I don’t get it. Daddy says even a King needs help sometimes. He says they meet at the round table sometimes, but usually at the Knights’ house, or Grandma’s castle. He says it’s why he’s away so often, and why he can’t call Sage and me like he used to.” She huffed, and squeezed his hand a little harder. It was barely anything to him, barely any pressure on his skin. He tilted his head. “Does Da- er. Does your father,” he said, correcting himself quickly, feeling his cheeks heat, “live with you? Why does he need to call you?” “Daddy lives in his castle,” she replied simply. “Papa and Daddy used to be happy together, but they started to make each other sad, so they live apart so they don’t make each other cry. But Papa cries anyway…” she glanced down, sighing. “He tries to hide it so Sage and I don’t hear. But he also used to yell at Daddy, and we heard that, too. Daddy moved away because Papa was being mean to him, and Sage and I make them both laugh so that they don’t think we’re being mean to them, and they won’t move away from us, too.” Adam took her hands in his, swallowing hard. He was the wrong person for this. *Why isn’t Nate here when I need him?! This is not…I am not equipped to handle this.* He took a deep breath in, and then out. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Rosemary,” he began softly. “I think you’re a sweet girl, and that your father loves you very much. Er, both of them. I’ve known your father for a while now. He’s kind, and caring, and devoted. I don’t know your other father, but I do know Rory. Trust me when I say the detect- er, Rory, probably loves you very much. I think you’d have to be very, very mean to hurt his feelings, and even then he still wouldn’t leave you.” She sniffled. “You mean it?” “Yes.” He surprised himself with the vehemence of his response, although he knew he meant it, the feeling resonating through his bones, through his soul. The detective already considered Unit Bravo their family, reluctant as they were to work with their mother. From the very beginning, from their first meeting here in this very room, Rory hadn’t once stopped caring. Often at the risk of losing their own life. Remembering the feel of their touch against his cheek, covered in their own blood after Murphy’s fight, their words of reassurance. Remembering how they made Mason laugh with a snide remark, hugged Felix tightly after a tender moment, chatted excitedly about books with Nate. The detective loved them. And in return, Unit Bravo, Adam included, loved- Oh. Oh.  He felt a tiny hand slip out of his own, touching his cheek and coming away wet. “You’re sad,” Rosemary stated matter-of-factly. “Did I make you sad?” He shook his head, surprised at the slight coolness from his tears. He hadn’t even realized they were happening. “No. I just thought something that made me hurt. I’ll be okay.” She frowned, her brow furrowing in the way her father’s often did, a tiny mirror image of the detective. “But you’re still crying.” Rosemary suddenly perked up. “Do you want me to read you a story? Daddy reads them when Sage and me go to sleep every night. Sometimes he sings, but I’m not very good at it. Daddy says Grandma wanted him to be an op-er-a singer.” She made a face. “I don’t like op-er-a. The girls and guys’ faces are always weird and scary. Sage thinks they’re funny, and she always wants Daddy to play it on the TV.” Adam chuckled, rising up to pull a chair next to the little girl. “Well, if you think the faces are scary, perhaps we should stick to the books. I like your idea. Tell me your favorite story.” Rosemary gave him a bright grin, front teeth gap-toothed, and flipped through the book. She stabbed a finger at the page. “It’s Morgana Le Fay! She’s a witch, and Z always does her voices when they’re around. She’s their favorite. I like Daddy’s version of the story. I think Morgana just wants a friend.” She glanced at him, making sure he was paying attention, before starting up. “Okay. Once upon a time, there was a little girl living in a big castle with her mama and sisters…” Later Rory picked up Sage, hauling her over their shoulder, grinning at her squeals of laughter. “Okay, Sagey bean! Let’s stop bothering uncle Verda, he’s got work to do! Should we find your sister, little princess?” The little girl burst into laughter, wriggling in her father’s arms. “Noooo, Daddy! Rosemary is the princess, I wanna be a knight!” Rory rolled their eyes, glancing over to a grinning Verda, who shrugged cheerfully. Kids. Whatcha gonna do?  They blew a raspberry into the fat of their daughter’s chubby cheek, smiling wide as more laughter burst from her. “A knight, huh? A knight should be able to find a princess, no matter what! Are you prepared for the journey, brave warrior?” Sage wriggled some more, like the worm she secretly was. “Yeeeeees!” The moment her father set her down, she took off like a shot, scrambling up the stairs of the basement, heading up into the precinct proper. “I can’t believe you let Rosemary just hang out with Agent Du Mortain, Rory,” Verda teased softly. “I’ve seen you growl at the mayor before when he even brought them up in conversation. You must trust him, huh?” His expression danced with light humor, even as his tone grew serious. Verda alone knew the sheer lengths Rory went to, keeping their home life separate from their work. Even if he didn’t know how strange Rory’s work life truly was. The detective nodded. “Yes. I trust him with my life.” They smiled softly. “So now that that’s out of the way, it means I can trust him with my children, too.” Rory looked up at the sound of little feet descending the stairs, quickly reaching out and catching Sage as she stumbled down the last few steps. “Sage, did you find your sister?” The little girl nodded. “She’s speeping, Daddy.” “Sleeping, Sage. Wait. What do you mean, she’s sleeping? Where?” They sighed as Sage wriggled out of their hold, grabbing their hand. “I’ll talk to you later, Verda.” Verda nodded. “Good luck, Detective.” Being led through the precinct, Sage took them to the meeting room door. Inside, they could hear a mellow voice, familiar and smooth, like liquid smoke. “‘I am the rightful king’, Arthur proclaimed. ’With Caliburn in hand, I shall reunite Camelot as one, and the kingdom shall once again be brought to prosperity!’ And the people rejoiced as a single ray of sunshine lit upon the boy, illuminating the golden hair of their new king like a crown gifted from the heavens themselves, and knew that they were saved.” Rory heard a book close softly, the old bindings creak shut. “And they lived happily after.” Opening the door, they watched as Adam reached out a hand to Rosemary, settling it on the thick curls on her head. Her eyes were closed, her head upon her crossed arms, and her chest rose and fell slowly. Rosemary was deep in slumber. “The end,” Adam whispered. There was something tender and sad in his expression, a longing and heartbreak Rory ached to see. They wondered if vampires could have children. If Adam had ever wanted any, before his life would be changed forever. The idea of Adam and children gave them a funny feeling in their chest, fluttering and quick, too fleeting to be recognizable. As if hearing the very stutter of their pulse, Adam sharply glanced up, his hand jerking back to his side. His expression closed off, becoming professional as he stood. “Detective. I didn’t realize-” he stopped himself, then started again. “Your daughter wanted an audience for her storytelling, and she was having trouble getting through some of the words. So I assisted her.” Rory smiled softly. They raised a hand soothingly. “It’s okay, Adam. I’m hardly upset. It’s about time I get these little ones back to my place anyway. Z’s plane landed a few hours ago, and they should be back home from their police training.” They nodded to Rosemary’s sleeping form. “Would you like to help me? I didn’t bring the car today, the girls wanted to walk.” They watched as Adam glanced at the sleeping girl, and nodded. “I would be honored, Detective.” “Why do you call Daddy ‘Detective’?” Sage asked bluntly, staring up at the tall man. “He’s Daddy, and ‘Rory’ to everyone.” Rory rolled their eyes, nudging their daughter. “Because it’s polite, baby. He’s being respectful. It’s okay.” The little girl seemed to chew on this information for a second before shrugging, seemingly no longer interested. “Okay!” She grabbed her father’s hand. “Can we go see Z now, Daddy? I want goldfishies. Ooh! Or fruit snackies!” She wrinkled her nose as Rory reached down and tugged her ear gently. “Sagey bean, your sister is asleep. Please keep your voice down. But yes. Adam and I will be taking you two home.” They glanced at Adam, giving a half-smile. It brightened at the amused expression he returned. Gingerly, Adam walked over to Rosemary, picking up her book, and then picking up her. The little girl barely even stirred. If anything, she snuggled closer in his arms, and Rory wished they could have taken a picture of Adam’s expression. It screamed Oh god, repeating over and over. Rosemary’s cuteness tended to have that effect on people. Rory was so proud. Their daughter could conquer a kingdom. “Shall we head home?” They asked softly. Adam nodded. “Yes. Let’s go home. To your home.” He flushed slightly as he corrected himself. Sage ran off with an excited yell, and the detective and agent shared an exasperated smile before following close behind.

[neshabeingchildish]

Share Those Secrets

@chenoahchantel @adorkable-blackgirl @kiddangers @famousflowermagazine

Share - a - Lair 18

Charlotte managed to get Piper to drive to the airport with her. Jasper was leaving too, as she suspected, so she would be sending all three of her guys off and she was in no condition to be able to drive away. She knew beforehand. By the time it happened, it was much worse. She hugged Henry and Jasper, tried not to cry on either of them. They held hand and headed for boarding. She clung to Max, trying not to cry, and also trying to let go of him, because it had to be done. She forced herself to smile and moved to kiss him. His tears wet her face and she lost it. “Why are you crying right now?” She asked. “We were supposed to tough it out!” Now, she was crying too.

“I know. I’m sorry, but I’m soft!” He said, squeezing her tightly. He didn’t want to let her go. 

It was hard to watch for Henry and Jasper, so while Jasper teared up a little and begged Charlotte to just get on the next plane and come too, Henry pulled him away and awkwardly said, “We’ll see you at Thanksgiving…” 

Charlotte wiped her face on Max’s shirt and he made a disgusted expression, “That was snot!”

“It’s payback. You were supposed to hold it together!”

“You KNEW that I wouldn’t!” He cupped her face and kissed her as the announcement sounded that he needed to board the plane. She pushed him, urging him to go, before she begged him not to. And whenever he left, she hugged herself and bit her lip. 

“I really don’t get it,” Piper said.

“What? Why I didn’t go with them?”

“No. Why on Earth did they use a commercial flight whenever the Hero League supplies them with a ding dang private jet?” It was because they were going to be under their secret identities and couldn’t be seen near the jet just yet, but Charlotte didn’t feel like explaining. She was super sad. 

Piper wrapped an arm around her back and said, “Come on. Let’s get you back to your dope ass house.”

Piper was around for a few hours before she had to head out. Charlotte hadn’t known how to tell her that she really didn’t want her there, anyway. She just wanted to be able to settle in by herself, since she would have to get used to being there by herself. She had no idea how much. 

After only a couple of weeks, she lost contact with Max. Jasper had texted only to say, “Max scored an in into a target and was given the order to go all in.” She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Max’s number was disconnected and the only social media that he had left was for his alias, Borya Kozlov. And it had been altered significantly by the Hero League’s tech teams to look like it was many years older and even had doctored photographs that Charlotte had to presume were manufactured by a superpower, and not just some image designer. She had to get things translated, because she didn’t know a lot of Russian and Max wouldn’t let her try out his new and improved Instant Language Learner, because he had a rule about not allowing her to test out things that he wasn’t 100% certain of success. He had gone through a lot of mistakes in his youth and wasn’t going to let her become a target of any of the same type. So, she had been trying to learn Russian on her own. 

Initially, she and Jasper had begun together, but he was a lot better at picking up languages, as a grammar nerd and a linguistics hoe. Charlotte understood and even memorized the rules and conditions, but actually executing the words, she was unable, so she’d stop trying to learn and didn’t think about the fact that she would probably have to READ it - that she tried to pick back up on, after she found the Kozlov pages, but she still needed a translator. 

It became her thing. A month passed and Henry’s birthday and Thanksgiving were on the horizon. She was relieved and excited, because those were times that they could see see other and Jasper thrived at doing big birthday things for Henry, while Henry thrived on making a bomb ass Thanksgiving. The previous year was their first after meeting Max and he was still sort of a private person and a jerk to them, so they had a minimalist celebration in the tower and made their rounds through Swellview, collecting plates of food and Henry’s presents. She was looking forward to this year being the first in her new home - her and Max’s home… but a couple of weeks before, she heard a sound that she had only heard in the background before and hadn’t heard in a while…

“Incoming Call from President Kickbutt…” She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion for a moment, wondering why on Earth she would be receiving such a call, because she didn’t work for Kickbutt and Max was out on assignment… She rushed to the monitor and saw a woman with strong features and an interesting hairdo on the screen. “Good afternoon, Miss Page. I take it you know who I am.”

“Yes, Madame President. Of course. What do I owe this honor?” 

Kickbutt raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what she expected, but she welcomed it. She looked slightly amused, but mostly unphased. “I’m afraid it won’t be news that you’ll be able to fully appreciate at the moment, but it is imperative.”

“Is Max okay? Is Henry alright?” Charlotte asked, panicking.

“Max is doing a stellar job. This is the most impressed with his work that I have ever been. You should know that he is very deep undercover, and now has ties to at least 12 high profile Russian supervillains, terrorists, and mobsters. At least one of them is suspected of being a spy, so he is unable to do ANYTHING that could possibly draw attention to something outside of his fabricated identity.”

“Including any contact with me.”

“Especially any contact with you. It’s the people closest to us that bring out our most vulnerabilities. I’m afraid that until we have solid evidence and have made every possible arrest that we are unable to risk him venturing outside of the parameters of this mission.”

“He’s… not just heroing? He’s on a high profile case???”

“It was not our intention, but it’s the way that things have happened. Whenever he caught the attention of an assassin who took an immediate liking to him, he leaned into it and now, we’re here. This unfortunately means that any visitation plans must be altered. As of right now, Henry is only acknowledged as a financial connection for him, so he is not watched as much and will be allowed to come to visit you for Thanksgiving. Your little friend Jasper insisted that the world would end if I wasn’t able to accommodate this. But. There is no way that we can risk Max coming outside of the boundaries of his assignment, currently. Millions of lives could be at stake if we lose just one of the 12 persons of interest.”

“Max is isolated and surrounded by terrorists and mobsters…”

Kickbutt shrugged, “He’s moving up in ranks, so he should be fine. And he’s one of the smartest young men to have ever worked for me. I assure you, as long as his cover isn’t blown, he will not be in any danger.”

“Are you able to communicate with him, at all? Does he… have someone near him?” Charlotte asked, twiddling with her shapeshifting necklace, anxiously. 

“He has a handler. My very own daughter. And, he still has Henry, Miss Page.” Charlotte nodded her head and within moments, the call was over. He still had Henry. That helped her to be able to make it through the day… Not so much to sleep at night.

.

Henry was Ricardo Richfield and everybody called him Richie Rich. Jasper was his “simple plaything” or “trophy husband” to everybody. His alias was Douglas Ritchfield and according to the paper trail created for their safety, he and Ricardo had been married for three years. The mansion that they were moved into was big enough that it was extremely unlikely that anyone would come across the underground lair, and Max’s lab was one of those where someone could definitely find it and see into parts of it, but they couldn’t access it. 

So, the first weekend that they were in Russia, they threw a huge party to celebrate Richie coming to Russia. The story was that he had done some things in the Americas and was hiding out here to avoid “justice.” He was supposed to be laying low and staying out of trouble, but the personality of his character was to absolutely not do that. He was a spoiled little rich kid playing gangster games and that would mean that he might attract those who may wish to do business with him. 

Borya was a Russian scientist who he would make rich by funding his experiments. Max came up with these aliases for them, avoiding the typical “lay low and be mild mannered” and reaching more for, “Get into the thick of the crime world and bust it up from the inside out.” Henry and Jasper didn’t have many talents that could be impressed upon the criminal element, so Max settled for the “useless rich kid and even more useless lover” angle. That way, he could also express anytime they frustrated him, in Russian and they wouldn’t know, but the people around them would and it would probably be funny.

Max had a little bit of familiarity with Russian, because some of his favorite scientists were Russian and he’d watched several recordings of them, so he recognized a lot of words and also had their accent pretty well down pat. (Same for German, and Japanese, but that’s another point altogether). Max adjusted well to Russia.

As soon as they were away from Charlotte, he focused on some mental exercises to try to compartmentalize her away. The thing of it was that in trying to do that, he wound up just thinking about her more. She became his meditation center. 

He would wake up everyday, brush teeth, wash up, burn one of her favorite candles and hope that she knew he was thinking of her as he tried to clear his mind and empty himself out for another day of work. Another day of pretending. 

It didn’t take long for him to get his foot in the door of something very heavy. It was at the party that he met Zenovia. She was looking into his lab when he approached and directed her back towards the party.

“What are you making in there? Looks illegal,” she teased. He frowned, gripped her arm and forced her down the hallway, only to be met with a battle. She was a trained fighter. He instinctively defended himself, despite the fact that it wasn’t actually part of his character’s background to be able to fight the way that he did. “Who ARE you, really?” she wondered. 

“Just someone who wants to live long enough to be rich and powerful,” he said. 

“I can probably help you with that.” And just like that, she began introducing him to people and saying that in his lab, he could tell he was smart and that he could probably do jobs that they needed a scientist of questionable moral fiber to handle. He… handled a few things. It was troubling, but he had to weigh out sacrifices. The more that he did, the less he wanted to think about Charlotte. He didn’t want her to be a part of this world he had gotten involved in. He even withdrew from Henry. Whenever it was time for Henry and Jasper to go to home for Thanksgiving, Jasper asked if there was anything that he wanted them to bring Charlotte and all he could think was his apologies. Instead, he said, “Hopefully, I’ll see her at Christmas.” he couldn’t think about her too much. That could make it all so hard for him. He and Henry had inadvertently received a bigger assignment than planned whenever they got to their station and while Henry was mostly doing his best at being the residential superhero, while Max only sometimes could act, if Henry was going to be gone, Max would have to be responsible for hero tasks AND be undercover. That was the most difficult placement he had ever had and he couldn’t dare allow himself any distractions. Not right now. She would understand. And if she couldn’t, he would eventually make it up to her.

Charlotte was at Henry’s parents’ house whenever he and Jasper arrived and they joyously screamed whenever they saw each other, hugging and hopping and all talking at once. Henry glanced around, “Where are my parents?”

“We literally haven’t seen either of them all week,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. 

Jasper wondered, “Were you able to get everything that I messaged you for the feast?”

“Yeah. Who do you think you’re talking to?” She asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows and said, “Umm, only the youngest crisis management specialist in the state…” She fought off a smile and he shook his head and excitedly yelled, “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW JOB!!!” 

She smiled bashfully and shook her head, “I’m in a probationary period, and only even working with police forces of Swellview, Neighborville, Bordertown and Hiddenville… I’m gunning for that Metroburg spot, but it has literally NEVER gone to a non-supe and I need to build my resume and finish my next degree.” 

The boys dropped their things in the living room and the mood got a little tense for a moment as Henry and Jasper glanced at each other, silently deciding who would say something about it. She stopped smiling for a while and just said, “Maybe, I’ll be able to see him at Christmas!” She tried to pretend that she was fine, but secretly stalking his alias on social media and seeing how he seemed to be spending his holidays with Zenovia was heartbreaking. 

This wasn’t like when Jack was surrounded by fans and given numerous declarations of love from his fan base. It should have been similar, but this woman was always tagging Borya and they seemed very close. She knew that it was business, but it was also undercover and she wasn’t basic. She knew that… whatever the reasons, there was something else there that, while it probably was only business for him… it bothered her. 

Henry tried to distract her from her sorrows and Jasper stole her phone and hid it to keep the obvious obsessing to a minimum.

Once the guys were full of food, wine and beer, she was still functional. Sometimes, you gotta push through that itis, and that was definitely what she was used to. Henry had fallen asleep on the couch. Jasper was sitting on the floor near him, with his head leaned back, mouth wide open, and she noted that Henry’s phone was on the table. 

Before the move, Henry’s phone might as well had been her second phone. She knew all of his passwords and everything. So, she figured that since she couldn’t access Max through her own, Henry’s should be as easy for her. 

It wasn’t a holiday in Russia, so she figured that he was probably just chilling, if not working and if he was working, Henry’s phone would be the best out, anyway. She opened Richie’s social media and saw Borya hearted a lot of things in the notifications. She checked and saw that they were mostly photos with her in them. She wasn’t tagged and the photos were set to private, so Henry must’ve allotted for Max to see them. Then, she went to check Max’s page - which was usually private and only had a few public posts that she could stalk, but since Richie and Borya were friends, she could see more and she hated to see it. 

The woman, Zenovia was all over Max in public settings, their faces were really close in several photos, and if Charlotte’s translations were correct, she called him by affectionate names in comments on things. The ONLY thing that was a little bit of reprieve was the fact that Max had not posted anything about her. She sort of just barged into his space by tagging him to things and commenting. But… Still… Charlotte opened Henry’s texts and found his exchanges with Max. 

“You shouldn’t do this, Girl. You already know what it is and it’s business and that’s it and he has responsibilities and…” She closed the app. She couldn’t violate his privacy or Henry’s that way. She set it down and wondered if this was going to aggravate her for the rest of her life. Probably. But, she wasn’t going to spy on Max. Lurking his social media because she missed him was one thing. Invading the privacy of his relationship with Henry was on another level and she felt like she had more morals than that. 

Instead, she picked up the phone again and texted, “Dude, if you possibly can, I think you need to try to reach out to Charlotte.” She watched as Max typed, stopped and resumed, and finally, eventually the reply came.

“I find it incredible that you would be so reckless as to mention her name in a text. What if Zenovia had this phone? What if she was right next to me? What if one of the others were. I’m extremely disappointed by this and you need to promptly delete it.”

She replied. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. This is Charlotte. Henry fell to sleep…” Her heart was pounding in her throat and her hands were all sweaty and she couldn’t remember the last time that something made her this nervous. Then, the phone began to vibrate in her hand and the name Borya the Beast flashed with a photo of Max. She took a deep breath and answered, “Hello?” 

Max felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Recalling her voice and hearing her voice were very different things and it had been months. “Hello.” His chest was on fire and he had never wanted to rush to somebody more than he did right now. “So, you’re… playing on people’s phones?” 

“I was… Just lonely. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about… I didn’t think. Are you pretty mad?”

“I was mad when I thought it was him,” he said, with a chuckle, then to someone in the background, he said something in Russian like ‘Taking this outside’ or ‘Going outside for a moment,’ or something like that. She only got the word for “outside.” It wasn’t terribly noisy on her end, but she could bet that it was more difficult for him to hear on that end. Plus, he probably needed privacy to chew her out for this little stunt. When it was quiet on his end, his voice was clearer and she could hear gentleness in it, “So… Please don’t do that, ever again, okay?” She nodded, blinking out her tears. “Char? Are you still there?” 

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry, I won’t. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

“I know what came over you. We haven’t been able to talk or see each other in four months and believe me, I KNOW how hard it is. It’s torture for me, and I think you care just as much about me as I do about you, so I think it’s as hard for you…”

“No… I mean, yes, but also… You’re big on family and spending time with them and now it’s the holidays and your folks are all celebrating in Hiddenville, but you’re thousands of miles from home, surrounded by people who aren’t even your friends, and on top of that, I miss you. I miss you, but I worry, too. About the danger and the enemies, and the double life… that… woman…” 

He was being emotionally stirred up, up until “that woman.” Then, he asked, “What woman?” 

“You know, the one that keeps tagging you to photos of you and her all over each other and practically sexting with you in the comments sections of said photos. Zenovia.” 

He shut his eyes tightly and whispered, “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“I know that. But, still… It’s hard to watch..”

“You aren’t supposed to be watching. You’re supposed to be keeping a safe distance, physically and electronically. Charlotte… She is a very dangerous person. I don’t ever want you to leave a trail to yourself that she could find. She’s evil and ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you. She’s also got a soft spot for me and being close to her makes it easier for me to get closer to Russian overlords. Had I not utilized that attachment, it might have taken twice as long, maybe even longer to get where I am. Just… don’t watch for this stuff. I can’t break character, and I can’t get distracted…” She sniffled and he sighed. He hated making her cry. He knew that there was no way around it, with this subject matter, but he still hated it. “I love you,” he said, softly.

“I love you, too,” she said. It was the quickest she had ever replied it and he had to remind himself that millions of lives could be affected if he failed. Because he just wanted to jump in the jet and hold her and kiss her and look her in the eyes and promise her that everything he did was to make sure that he did his job and lived to return to her.

“Hey, whenever this is over, maybe you should just marry me and become part of my cover,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Yeah. I should,” she said. He couldn’t tell what he was hearing in her voice, but he hadn’t expected her to say that. She hadn’t laughed, so he didn’t know if she took it as a joke, and she didn’t inflect her voice, so he wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or trying to contain some anger. “I should’ve come with you. It’s not like I couldn’t work from there. I chose my career.”

“Well… it’s going good, though! I’ve seen the reports done on you in your local news outlets. You’re right out of college and already securing the bag. That’s amazing, Charlotte. I wouldn’t have asked you to trade that in for me.”

“You’re saving a multitude of lives,” she reminded him.

“While losing the love of mine…” he said so softly she might not have heard him if he weren’t in complete silence.

“You’re not,” she said. She took a deep breath and assured him, “I can handle it. I knew well enough what I signed up for. You know… When military personnel is deployed, sometimes there’s absolutely NO WORD from them for months and only snippets of visits. And their purpose is questionable. You’re a true hero and… I can do this. I have to. Or what? I get to feel the way that I felt tonight for even longer, while I try to get over you, or worst case scenario, for the rest of my life, because I never can? The options outside of sucking it up and being patient until we can be together again all seem miserable.” She sniffled, “Is there any way that you can arrange for me to come to see you?”

He sighed a sigh of relief. The moment Zenovia was mentioned, he was certain that a breakup was soon to follow. Charlotte reaffirming that she believed in him and in them was something he didn’t realize that he needed so much to get him through all of this. “I’ll think of something.”

[timeagainreviews]

The Filler Fluff of the Cybermen

When is a two-parter not a two-parter? When the first part is tonight’s episode "Ascension of the Cybermen." As stories go, that was pretty damn sparse. I’ll be honest, friends, I don’t have a lot to say about tonight’s story. But that’s not why you come here, so I will try my damnedest to find something to talk about in this latest episode of Doctor Who. Right, now, how many words was that? Sixty-seven? Christ. This is going to be a slog.

I honestly shouldn’t be surprised. It had to happen. I was saying just last week that I hadn’t seen an episode I outright hated so far this series. We were due. That’s not to say I actually feel hate for this episode, more accurately, I feel very little about this episode. Usually, I endeavour to do more than simply trash an episode, but tonight, it’s either that, or I end the review here. So apologies ahead of time.

The episode opens on a Cyberman head floating in space with some knucklehead voiceover telling us about how the Cybermen have been mostly wiped out and what remains of humanity isn’t much better. The episode will now spend the next fifty minutes reiterating this point ad nausea. It was like a Star Wars title crawl, except in Star Wars, the crawl isn’t the plot of the movie you’re about to watch. Funnily, a lot of tonight’s episode reminded me of "The Last Jedi." Our heroes get split up. A slow chase ensues. No new information is gained. And it ends leaving us feeling like not a lot happened.

The Doctor and her companions come to a small human colony in the distant future. There are only seven of them left. The Doctor sets up a series of relays to help this ragtag bunch of humans kill off an oncoming Cyberman attack. Only thing is, they had never accounted for the Cybermen to first send out "Cyber Drones." Now, say you’ve got a room full of artists who love Doctor Who. And you tell them all to design drones that will be utilised by Cybermen. You can imagine they might have some rather impressive designs. Now, gather up all of those beautiful and creative drawings into your arms and throw them in the bin. Instead, we’re going to just use floating Cyberman heads. Was this because Chibnall is the kind of guy who thinks a dude with teeth pressed into his face is creepy or is this because reusing Cyberman heads is cheap? I’ll let you decide.

The Cyberheads and their eye lasers do quick work of the Doctor’s relays and sends everyone scattering to the wind. With three of the humans dead, Ryan, a young boy named Ethan, and the Doctor get left behind. Yaz and Graham, find themselves aboard a rickety gravraft with the remainder of the humans. With the TARDIS too far away, the Doctor decides they need to hijack a Cybership. I gotta give it to the Cybermen, they take better care of their ship than they do their own bodies. It’s almost as if there was no continuity in the design. Or maybe it’s like when you see someone whose life is a total mess but they have a dope car. I’ll let you decide.

After Ethan hotwires the Cybership, the Doctor pilots the ship to the most logical destination- her TARDIS. No, I’m just kidding, that would have made sense! Instead, she goes somewhere. I just double-checked with my boyfriend and we honestly couldn’t remember why anyone was doing anything at this point in the episode. After combing the episode I finally found a bit of throwaway dialogue where Ethan programmed the ship to go to a place called "Ko Sharmus." Meanwhile, the other group of protagonists are floating listlessly in space, making them the most relatable characters in this episode as that’s exactly how I felt.

By now you’re probably wondering why I haven’t gotten to the B-story happening in this episode. I guess here is as good a place as any, as it made just as much sense crammed anywhere in the episode it pleased. We see a young man and woman find a baby. This baby grows up to be their adopted son, Brendan. Brendan becomes a cop. Brendan gets shot and falls off a cliff. Brendan wakes up unscathed. Brendan’s dad looks at him like he’s creepy. Brendan grows old and retires. Brendan’s dad and boss, seemingly having not aged, wipe his memory. It makes as much sense as a wicker toilet and gives us no new information. At one point I thought he may have been Captain Jack’s kid, but then he grows old, so I don’t know what to think. What I do know is that you could have edited it down and made it into a far better cold opener than that Cyberhead floating in space shit.

The humans aboard the gravraft get stranded next to a giant Cyberman ship where a battle has gone down. Remnants of Cybermen ping the hull of their vessel like tiny asteroids. They get the bright idea to use the airlock to give the gravraft an extra thrust into the Cybership. I don’t know if it was intentional, but having Graham say "Don’t panic," right before they release the airlock was a nice little Douglas Adams reference. Or maybe it wasn’t at all, but I’ll take any joy from this episode I can get. Much like the idiotic hip bounce from "Can You Hear Me?" that knocked the sonic screwdriver up into the Doctor’s hands, the gravraft makes a million in one shot directly into the Cyberman ship’s docking bay. If they have that kind of luck sinking shots like that, they should really take their skills to the minigolf course.

The second I saw the ship, I knew that they were going to do the rows upon rows of sleeping Cybermen emerging from their tombs. It’s a Doctor Who trope as old as the Patrick Troughton era. My boyfriend was enjoying these bits as he is less familiar with the history of Doctor Who, so I let him have his fleeting enjoyment. I couldn’t even get jazzed about the new Cyberman design as they had already spoiled it with online photos. Basically, aside from the head-scratching B-story, the plot to tonight’s episode could be gathered by looking at promotional photos. There were new Cybermen. The Lone Cyberman was there. Nothing new to be learned here. Though, I will admit those new Cybermen are genuinely awesome.

The Doctor has a brief encounter with a hologram of the Lone Cyberman, or "Ashad." We learn that Ashad doesn’t just want to destroy all humans, he wants to destroy all life in the universe, for reasons. So I guess it wasn’t all a wash. Ashad heads to the Cybership where he begins waking up the Cybermen by what looks like torture. I have absolutely zero idea why he was doing what he was doing. It’s not at all made clear. Was he giving a titty twister so the Cybermen would accept him as their leader? Because after waking up the rest of them, they all seem to fall in line. Honestly, what the hell was he doing to that Cyberman? It makes no goddamn sense.

One thing I will say that made me happy was that one of my predictions from before episode one came true. They gave Graham a bit of a love interest. I called that shit. This possible love interest came in the form of Ravio, one of the human colonists. I found it rather amusing that in the future humans would still speak with British accents but have lost all context for Cockney rhyming slang. It was a cute bit of dialogue that falls apart if you think about it too much. The Cybermen force the humans into a corner to barricade themselves from the onslaught of Cybermen, and that’s where they’re left until next weekend.

Meanwhile, the Doctor arrives at Ko Sharmus which ends up being a person’s name as opposed to a planet. Chris Chibnall’s ability to name characters has not improved. Seriously, there are characters named Feekat and Yedlarmi in this episode. It hardly matters though as they’re all rather forgettable. I had to comb the episode and the internet just to figure out who was who. The Doctor never even introduces herself to Ethan. I had to figure his name out through one of the many throwaway lines of dialogue. That’s not to say that they don’t have real bits of character development. But you can take all of the character development in the world and wrap it around a hollow plot and it equals a lot of me not giving a shit.

Ko Sharmus was a welcome addition, simply because he was played by the charismatic Ian McElhinney. Turns out he’s a human colonist who stays behind in case any more humans might one day also come to this planet. There’s a sort of gateway or “boundary” out of the galaxy where many humans have gone to escape pursuit by Cyberman. Ko Sharmus’ job is to act as a guide to any possible newcomers also looking to reach said boundary. However, the Doctor quickly learns that the boundary is actually a gateway to Gallifrey. Only now it shows Gallifrey as the Master left it- in ruins.

Did I mention the Master? Well, here he is, making a "grand" entrance. The only thing at this point that was grand about the introduction of the Master to the story was that I was excited that something of substance was actually about to happen. Instead, this is our cliffhanger- this not at all surprising reveal that the Master is still alive. Of course, he is, he’s the Master. It’s a season finale with the Cybermen, of course, the Master is going to be there. It’s been that way for the past two Cyberman season finales. I guess the third time is a charm? What about any of this is supposed to be surprising? Remember how I said I was afraid they were becoming far too reliant on big reveals? This ending is the epitome of that. I think they expected to blow our minds by having the storyline they set up at the beginning of the series come into fruition. Try harder Chibs, this shit was weak.

The biggest shocker here is how little happened. What we were left with was akin to a classic filler episode where the Doctor gets captured. They padded out everything because they didn’t want next week’s episode to be ten minutes longer. Tonight’s episode exists purely because Chris Chibnall couldn’t edit down the script of a single episode into something shorter. This wouldn’t be so egregious if at least one storyline came to some sort of conclusion. If the B-story with Brendan had gone somewhere it might have made the entire episode feel somewhat worth the time and effort. Instead, we’re forced to watch a team of talented actors fill time.

I can’t help but feel like last week’s episode should have been this week’s episode with maybe a bit more setup for the finale. In place of this forgettable fluff, we could have gotten a single contained episode in its place. Something that had a beginning, middle, and end. Because of this, it’s almost as if we’ve been shorted an episode. Because of all of the wasted time in "Ascension of the Cybermen," I can only think of two outcomes for next week. One is an episode crammed so full of exposition that it will feel messy and disjointed. The other is an episode that is as equally underwhelming as tonight’s effort. Do you really mean to tell me they’re going to fit a Cyberman battle, Captain Jack, the Master, Gallifrey, the Timeless Child, and possibly Ruth into an episode and it not be a mess? It’s hard to have faith that there is a reason behind this much wasted screentime. I could use some of Graham’s optimism because at this moment it’s looking a bit hopeless.