#its fine to maybe not like a play concept or point out poor choices from 2009. but its NOT ok to attack the company and its crew as a whole

[willowparkfanclub]

okay look. not to gatekeep but i think if you're a newer starkid and you can't tell me 1) who julia albain is 2) what little white lie is and 3) all the names in liam's got a phone call, i don't wanna hear your complaints about what starkid chooses to produce next

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Five Times John Wanted to See a Movie, and One Time Kayne Made it Suck - a Malevolent Podcast Oneshot

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

Spoilers up to Malevolent ep. 31.

AO3

----------

In January, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

“Damn it, John… fine. You know what? Fine! We’ll go sit in the dark and be perfect targets for someone! Is that what you want?”

He gives in, though.

Arthur can be stubborn. He can be foolish in refusal, often saying no just to say it. 

But to this?

To an innocent request, almost childlike in its intensity, and in its expectation of reply?

Arthur can’t hold out for that long.

Not when it seems to bring John such uncomplicated joy.

#

The movie is called Dancing Lady, and Arthur already knows nothing will ever be made like it again once the Hays Code has its way.

It’s a ridiculous love triangle, a “tarnished” woman (a concept Arthur finds absurd) torn between a rich sponsor and a poor lover, both of whom, at least, see her talent for what it is.

There are some scenes in this one. At one point, Clark Gable massages Joan Crawford’s leg, raising it above his shoulder, only hinting at the things that must surely be on display from Gable’s point of view.

Yowza.

It’s hard not to imagine Joan Crawford making the kinds of faces John describes, and Arthur can’t help a little bit of distracting response.

He focuses on his popcorn instead of anything else prone to explode.

“Those guys are a lot of silk hats and silk socks with nothing between,” says Clark Gable on screen, and Arthur laughs.

John huffs. Why are they being so particular about this?

“Particular about what?” says Arthur.

Tod, Patch, Janie. Why the fuck doesn’t she just lie with both of them? Why do they give a fuck?

Arthur is completely taken aback. “Well, it… I mean… she can’t do that.”

Why not?

Arthur has never in his life considered this question.

It’s about offspring, John decides.

“Ah… no, it’s not really—”

They demand monogamy so there can be no question of inheritance.

“She’s a dancing girl. She has nothing to inherit.”

Sure, but Tod does.

“Yes, but… that isn’t it, John.”

Then what is?

Arthur’s really not sure how to answer. What’s he going to say? That it isn’t the Christian thing to do? “I… it just isn’t done that way. Generally.”

Though in his musician days, he witnessed some truly unique romantic configurations.

It’s a lot to think about.

Stupid, pronounces John with fiendish delight, and continues to tell Arthur everything that’s happening on screen even though Arthur does not reply.

#

In February, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Arthur sighs. “John. I’ve been fucking stabbed.”

Only a little, says John. The three stitches are fine. You’re fine.

He is fine, honestly. It wasn’t that bad, and in the end, they took out the giant bug-thing that poked him.

He’s pretty sure he isn’t poisoned. Maybe that alone deserves celebration.

Arthur sighs. “Well. I suppose an evening of distraction isn’t such a terrible idea.”

Of course it’s not a terrible idea. It’s mine.

Arthur rolls his useless eyes, but can’t help a little smile. 

#

This movie, though. This movie hits different.

Death Takes a Holiday is about Death himself, who is tired of being misunderstood, and decides to go slumming among humans for a few days to see if he can figure out why.

And he falls in love. 

With a human.

Which can’t end well for that poor lady.

Arthur forgets his popcorn.

The drama is absolutely contrived and thoroughly effective. The struggles of the inhuman to understand the human—

The choice of the human to understand the strange—

“And tonight, I must go back to my distant kingdom,” says Fredric March, whose portrayal of Death is passionate, quiet-spoken, and rife with tortured drama.

“Will you take me with you?” says Evelyn Venable, who plays Grazia, the love interest, and whose name means grace.

“Take you?” says Death, who is pretending to be something he is not, who is carrying on a wild con with the goal of… enlightenment? “Take you? I should be so unhappy alone. Take you? Oh, no, no… don’t tempt me. But Grazia, give me one hour of you—let me hold you once, and feel your life.”

Holy shit, Arthur thinks, because he’s pretty sure he knows how Grazia feels.

Sort of. He’s no damsel, and whatever he and John are isn’t romantic, but still?

“Now you see me as I am,” says Death, at last revealed as shadow, as monster, as darkly divine.

“But I've always seen you like that! You haven't changed,” says Grazia.

She chooses him, knowing what he is.

She chooses him, knowing what it will cost.

The music swells, and Arthur finds himself tearing up. “Then there is a love which casts out fear, and I have found it! And love is greater than illusion… and as strong as death!” Death declares.

John cheers. She goes with him! She went with him! Yes, Arthur!

Does John see the parallels, too?

Arthur isn’t brave enough to ask.

He wipes his eyes, amazed, moved. Almost envious of that stupid made-up girl.

Yeah. This one hit different. 

He can’t help wondering, silly as it is, if this movie was based on something that really happened.

Death and Grazia, reaching across the gap.

It’s not him and John.

But then, who can say just what they are?

#

In March, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Arthur is tired. “Really? Now?”

Why not? We owe ourselves a little treat.

They do, but after Death’s little romance, Arthur’s not sure he’s ready.

He has decided “friend” is the word for them, but only because he doesn’t have a better one.

Its problem is, it’s not strong enough. It’s nowhere near strong enough.

Arthur is well aware that facing off against the damned pallid mask cult again is the reason for his mood, but what he needs to remember is they failed. 

He’s alive. 

John is still here.

John did not take his exit, his gilt and crafted fire escape, much to the cult’s confusion.

When Arthur destroyed their framework of magic and bone, John cheered him on.

John doesn’t seem to miss them, or regret Arthur’s success.

That means a lot.

Friend? Sure. In lieu of a better word.

Arthur sighs. “What do you want to see?”

#

Jimmy the Gent is bonkers.

Arthur half wonders if it pushes the bar so hard because the Hays Code is breathing down Hollywood’s collective neck, threatening to end artistic freedom forever.

He also wonders if anyone but James Cagney and Bette Davis could have pulled this plotline off.

Cagney plays an unscrupulous man who seeks out wealthy folks who died without a will, then produces heirs to rake in the moolah—heirs who aren’t even real.

The main conflict is his girlfriend balking at his techniques, bailing to join a competitor, and coming back again when the eponymous Jimmy shows himself to be slightly less wicked than the other guy.

There isn’t actually a hero. It’s not black and white; it may be comedy, but it’s comedy gray.

“The only thing he's got that I want is you, and he took you away from me,” says Jimmy.

Oof. Those are some words to hear, and Arthur struggles not to apply them.

“He's got ethics,” says Davis, the dame Joan.

“I don't care if he has carbuncles. The only difference between him and me is he's got a smoother line,” says Cagney as the eponymous Jimmy.

Haha… ah. Wow.

“You can't make yourself clean by making him dirty,” says Joan, and Arthur’s stomach twists.

Arthur slowly exhales. This is a poor allegory for the King in Yellow and him, isn’t it?

But it maybe isn’t so bad for him and Larson.

He’s a little bit better than Larson. Just a little. Is that enough to make him good?

John, funny enough, doesn’t wrestle with morality at all in this, but has a blast with the humor, and praises the cleverness of the characters. He particularly appreciates the way Jimmy puts on airs to win back his lady love. Goal achieved, intimacy earned, all for the price of a barrel of determination and a pinch of deceit.

Arthur is uncomfortable as fuck, and eats all the popcorn at the film, too much popcorn, and gives himself a stomachache.

Somehow, he feels it is deserved.

#

In May, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

They end up picking one all about deceit, romance, and false identity.

The Thirty Day Princess is a heck of a ride.

Are you trying to tell me something? Arthur thinks at a god he doesn’t believe in, thinks at the King in Yellow who is and is not John.

“She Reminds Me of You,” croons Bing Crosby as the hero dances with the princess-under-false-pretenses, who’s filling in for her sick counterpart for a total of thirty days.

Who looks exactly like the ill royal, but most definitely is not her.

I'm standing all alone I've got nothing to live for She reminds me of you And she reminds me of you And it breaks my heart in two

Dear fucking gods.

John is not the King in Yellow.

Except that he is.

Arthur hasn’t processed this. Hasn’t figured it out.

I am the King in Yellow, sounds John’s voice in Arthur’s memory, and Arthur ends up physically ill at the end of the film.

John is quite concerned, but Arthur doesn’t know what to tell him when he asks what’s wrong, and leaves all his questions unanswered like unraveling thread.

#

In September, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Enough time has passed that Arthur’s resistance has worn down.

He refused two months in a row. He rejoiced (in silence) that the madness with the Order of the Falling Star prevented any such frivolity through August.

But now that’s done, and Kayne has another poorly defined deal that began with an entire group of cultists violently dead, and Percy has Arthur’s blood in a jar for some reason and a promise of future contact, and it’s done.

For better or worse, it’s done.

And it’s quiet.

And John wants to see a movie.

“You know what?” says Arthur, who could use the distraction. "There’s one I want to see, too. Do you know the poets Elizabeth Barret and Robert Browning? Well… Elizabeth wrote some of the most wonderful verse about love and longing that anyone ever has, and apparently, there’s a movie about it, so let’s go see.”

#

The Barretts of Wimpole Street turns out to be completely not what Arthur expected.

Love disallowed by a sex-repulsed parent, physical illness barring the freedom afforded any ordinary adult, a stressful and creepy scene with incestuous undertones, and a decision to kill a beloved pet dog (which fortunately did not pan out) leave Arthur feeling absolutely weird about the whole thing.

The movie tiptoes a lot about morality, about right and wrong, about societal norms and familial expectations.

At least some of it reminded him of arguments with Daniel, after Bella had come down pregnant.

At least some of it reminded him of arguments with James, the day Faroe was born.

All of it reminded him of whatever he has with John, and he doesn’t know how to interpret that.

Norma Shearer as Elizabeth asking, “Robert, have you ever thought that my strength may break down on the journey?”

Frederick March as Robert answering: “It had occurred to me, yes.”

Arthur feels so very mortal, these days.

“Supposing I were to die in your hands?” she says.

“Are you afraid?”

Yes, thinks Arthur. I’m very afraid.

And then comes the line that hits hardest. “Yes,” says Robert Browning. “I am prepared to risk your life, much more my own, to get you out of that dreadful house and into the sun and to have you for my wife.”

Was that an okay thing to say?

Arthur doesn’t know.

He feels like he and John have each made that decision for each other, more than once.

But nobody’s a wife. 

Or something.

He’s not really sure what he’s internally protesting.

“I'm sick of fighting alone. I need a comrade in arms to fight beside me,” Robert says.

“But not one already wounded in battle,” Elizabeth says, who feels lesser, who feels so weak.

“Wounded but undaunted, unbeaten, unbroken. What finer comrade could a man ask for?”

Undefeated.

Arthur swallows hard. Maybe this one was pointed at him, after all.

That was kind of depressing, John pronounces with great cheer as they leave, having enjoyed every moment, and described it all to Arthur in an effort to help him enjoy it, too. I can’t believe he wanted to kill the dog! 

“Well,” says Arthur. “Some people are… cruel… when they lose.”

Someone should kill him instead, John says, and he is joking.

Probably joking.

It feels like John’s moral compass is more reliable than Arthur’s own, these days, so Arthur decides to just let that one go.

#

In October, Arthur says, “John—I want to see a movie.”

Really? You do? You want to hear one, you mean? says John, who’s being clever.

Arthur is able to laugh. “Yes, you whacko.”

John’s pleased. Arthur can feel it. I know you are, but what am I?

Arthur laughs again.

The back-and-forth is ridiculous, but feels so damn good in spite of that. Easy; effortless. Affectionate, knives long stashed.

Three whole weeks have passed since the Rancid Ruby case, and their successful retrieval of the jewel (and the minister’s daughter, whom they hadn’t even known was missing) has brought them enough business and enough income that Arthur has begun to believe John is right: they’re going to be okay.

It’s also put the final nail in the dismissal of their murder case. The minister stood as a character witness, and finally swayed the judge. Who knew?

Parker and Eddie’s deaths have been officially attributed to a burglary gone wrong—backed by Arthur’s wrecked car, miles from the scene; by hospital proof that Arthur, unidentified, had been in a coma; and by Arthur’s indisputable claim of amnesia, causing his disappearance for many months. 

Larson is MIA, having been carried off by the monstrous thing he summoned.

The Butcher is retired, having philosophized himself into a monastery, eager for hypocritical redemption and literal flagellation.

Kayne hasn’t called his favor, but right now, it’s hard to look toward that with horror.

Even this latest case worked out, with a wild showdown in Central Park, loads of witnesses, and the Jade MacGuffin returned to its owner.

It’s all coming up roses. Arthur is almost able to hope.

So what did you want to see? says John.

“Well, they’re saying this will be one of the last great movies—the Hays Code, and all,” says Arthur, who has tried to explain it, and shared John’s frustration at the enforcement of false human experience and morality on screen. “It’s about the great Egyptian queen Cleopatra—a tragic love story, and one that’s inspired all manner of art, music, poetry, and more for centuries.”

Sure. Sounds good. The theater on 15th has popcorn, you know.

That’s all Arthur needs to hear.

#

And it isn’t pointed, it really is not. But it sort of fits how he’s feeling, anyway.

“Together, we could conquer the world,” Cleopatra says, Elizabeth Taylor making every word so sensual that Arthur could drown in any one of them for a week.

“Nice of you to include me,” Warren William’s Julius Caesar replies, and Arthur chuckles, and John says, Hahaha! You can do better! and it’s such a beautiful, perfect shared moment.

And of course, she can do better—in the form of Marc Antony, played by Henry Wilcoxon.

Arthur loses himself in it all, even though he can’t see. The cast is huge. The effects (via John) are jaw-dropping. The music score is moving and expertly done.

When Taylor says, "On. Your. Knees,” Arthur feels some things he really doesn’t know what to do with, but the moment passes quickly.

Cleopatra is everything Arthur wanted in an evening of self-indulgent escape, and John’s continued enthusiasm only makes it more sweet.

Arthur sniffles at the tragic ending, even though he knew it was coming, which Taylor plays to the hilt.

It definitely doesn’t feel pointed like the other movies did. Arthur figures out why when it’s done, while he’s waiting for everyone else to file out so he can leave the theater unhindered.

A lack of communication and irreconcilable core values led to the tragedy on screen.

That’s not him and John. Well, it used to be; but Arthur is certain it’s not anymore.

John says, I think I understand her.

“Her? Cleopatra? How so?”

And with that unnervingly good memory John sometimes demonstrates, he quotes: ‘So Rome would forgive and take you back? And all they demand is for us to part. Why don't they ask the sun to fall right out of the sky?’

Arthur swallows.

That’s how I feel about you, says John, who has never said he loves Arthur, but has shown it, repeatedly and without hesitation.

Arthur has some thoughts on that. "I feel the same,” he says, who has never said those words to John, even though the King in Yellow called him on it months ago.

But Arthur’s fairly sure he’s shown it, too.

He's been thinking a lot about love, of late.

About what it really is, and how it is expressed.

About how the movies usually portray two kinds: romantic, and familial.

This love is neither. It’s different, loaded with unknown spice, broken free from a mold Arthur cannot name.

But it is absolutely real, and Arthur has come to a conclusion that shakes him to his core: he was already willing to die for John, many months ago, yes. But now?

Now, he’s willing to live for him.

Even if Kayne decided to offer me a body, I’m not going anywhere, John says out of nowhere.

“A body?” Arthur isn’t sure where that idea came from. “I doubt he’d do that.”

John says nothing.

Arthur tries to bridge whatever unexpected gap this is, squirming with things in the dark. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to obtain papers for you, if that happened. Make you all legitimate.”

Really. Is that so?

Arthur has to poke. “I’ll say you’re from Montana. That should explain away any obvious social gaffes.”

Gaffes! I’ll have you know I’m far better at handling people than you.

“Well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we? In this theoretical future that probably won’t happen.”

There’s another slight pause. Arthur frowns.

I want my name on the business, John suddenly says.

Arthur snorts.

Arthur! I’m serious!

“Yes, yes. I don’t see why not.” Arthur is more concerned he might not get his sight back than that John’s name is painted on frosted glass. “Lester and Doe, Private Investigators For Hire.”

Doe and Lester.

“Excuse you. I was in it first.”

But I’m clearly the smarter partner.

Arthur laughs. “You dork.”

And will probably be better-looking, too.

“Now, that’s going too far,” says Arthur, chuckling. 

You’ll see. I’ll draw everyone’s attention with my glorious form, and that’ll give you time to riffle their drawers.

“That’s… not a horrible idea, honestly, though there are a few problems with that—namely, you have no body, and even if you did, I’d still be blind.”

Well, I… well, we…

“Gotcha,” says Arthur, smug, because it’s easier to laugh at this possible future than actually deal with any of it, though even the shadow it casts hurts.

You did not. That’s not even a point. Half a point, maybe.

“Lester and Doe, it is,” Arthur says, because it’s fun to poke the bear.

Instead of answering, John gasps.

Arthur knows John. Knows him well. And immediately stops walking.

“You know, just when I think you two can’t get any cuter, you go and wrap a bow on your dicks and call it Christmas,” says Kayne so close that Arthur can feel breath on his lips.

Arthur staggers back a few steps, then stops himself. Running won’t help. “What do you want?”

Kayne must have kept pace with him, because he speaks just as close, an inch away. “It’s your lucky day! Oh, did you tell him, snippet? Did you? I assume you would have by now, I mean, it’s not like you had half a year or something to figure out how to broach the topic.”

Oh, no. What?

It’s like the ground under Arthur’s feet is shaking, ground he’d thought was solid, but hides a deep and jagged fault line. “What is he talking about?”

Arthur, I��

“Too late now!” says Kayne, and there is a whoosh of air.

Arthur staggers. He didn’t move, but he did, and the sounds and smells tell him he’s no longer on the sidewalk, but in an alley.

And then comes a voice he hates.

A drawl, casual and arrogant, and it doesn’t even matter that it’s coming from waist-height, because his immediate urge is to attack it at once like a bird in a mirror.

“Well, this isn’t what I expected,” says Wallace Larson.

Arthur takes a step.

John reaches across his chest and grabs his arm, hard, like a physical restraint.

“Oh, the webs we weave when we practice to deceive,” says Larson, who sounds fine and dandy, if a little shorter than before.

Arthur, says John, evenly. He’s not alone. He’s strapped to a weird, short table, barely fitting into the alley, and his legs are jammed against the wall. And he’s not alone.

And because this wasn’t fraught enough, the next voice is identical.

Identical. But it isn’t John.

You! Murderer!

“Yellow?” says Arthur, shock stealing sound and sense from this moment, tingling through his body so his face feels numb.

Kayne bounces something light off the side of his head.

“What?” Arthur startles.

“Sorry, thought you’d open your mouth for it, like a baby bird. Popcorn?” Another one hits right under his eye.

“Stop it! What are you doing?”

It’s time for justice! Yellow declares.

Oh, shut the fuck up, John snarls.

Traitor! bellows Yellow.

And Larson starts to sing. Insultingly, it is a hymn.

“Bury my body,” Larson croons in a surprisingly pleasing baritone. “Lord, I don't care where they bury my body. Lord, I don't care where they bury my body, ‘cause my soul is gonna live with God.”

Arthur is going to kill him. The rest of this can sort itself out. He takes another step.

“Hold on there, boyo,” says Kayne in the Butcher’s accent, and takes Arthur’s hand. “You’ll need this.”

That is the handle of a knife. A knife, pressed into his right palm, which means Kayne wants him to do this, and that pours cold water all over the whole operation.

The handle burns, but Arthur ignores that.

Go ahead, says Yellow. You’re already a killer. I see it in your eyes. I know you, Arthur Lester!

This can’t be happening.

“It is, though,” whispers Kayne in his ear. “Looks like Little John didn’t tell you anything, did he? That’s a real foundation for trust.”

“What?” says Arthur, who feels stuck like a skipping record.

You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, says John.

I do. He confessed. He murdered that man and fucking ATE HIM.

He did that because of you! John roars at Yellow. You’re the one who put him in the pit! You’re the one who sent him the gods-damned cannibal! What did you want him to do, just sit back and be eaten?

“What?” says Arthur, weakly.

Because for Yellow to have done that means—

I did? says Yellow, sounding as confused as if he’d been thocked on his phantasmal head.

“Oh, oh, oh yeah,” sings Larson. 

Arthur needs a moment.

“I’m not leaving,” he snaps before anybody can yell at him, and turns to stand at the entrance to the alley, just breathing.

He’s very, very glad he had no alcohol with dinner tonight.

“I dunno, pal, it might’ve helped you out,” Kayne says.

“What is this?” says Arthur.

“Isn’t it clear? No, I suppose it’s not—guess good old Liz (or maybe Henry) redirected the blood from your brain to elsewhere. You’re here to kill your enemy, my boy! End the torment. Flip the switch. Bring that hammer down.”

Arthur swallows. He’s tasting metal again—a thing he’s noticed only happens when he’s on the verge of panic.

Which he is. He doesn’t know what’s going on.

Arthur, I can explain.

“Shhh,” says Kayne, and touches Arthur’s lips.

Arthur tries for him with the knife. 

Of course, it only hits brick, jarring his hand. “Ow,” he mutters. “Damn it!”

“He’ll get to explain it all after. For now, however, you, being the key in this situation, being fully entangled with him, and thus, his representative with a physical form, have a job to do.”

“What job? I haven’t agreed to—is this my favor? For killing those cultists?”

Kayne laughs. “No, you sweet thing. It’s his.”

“His?” Arthur’s voice is small.

I… Arthur, I…

Get back here! Coward! Yellow calls from the alleyway.

“I have questions,” says Arthur, but he honestly can’t think of one.

Kayne tsks at him. “I can see you’re in shock, you tender soul, you, so let’s make this simple. Do this, or John’s gone.”

“Gone?” Arthur’s voice cracks.

“Removed. Incised. Purged, if you will. It’s what he agreed to.”

“John?” says Arthur.

This is what you wanted him in New York for? John says, sounding incredulous.

Arthur’s brain has skipped parts of this conversation like it touched an electrical fault, and he blurts, “Yellow is the King in Yellow, isn’t he?”

Kayne laughs. “Wow, are you behind! They’re both the King in Yellow, my darling rose. Snippet, what have you been teaching him? What, nothing? Well, this is on you, then.”

Get back here! howls Yellow. We’re not finished!

“I said all right,” Larson starts singing again. “You know it's alright. It's alright, c'mon.”

And it calms Yellow. It calms the piece of the King in Yellow, the copy of John that Arthur betrayed, that Arthur ruined so badly that he’s refused to think about it because there’s no fixing what went wrong.

“You are correct on that one,” Kayne confirms. “This is fun, and all, but boys… you’re losing my patience. It’s time.”

Arthur finds himself walking back into the alley.

It’s easy to follow Larson’s voice. 

To follow the sweet-syrup sound of that most hated man, who is awfully damn calm about this, and that is the one thought that surfaces. “You’re awfully damn calm about this, Larson,” Arthur snarls.

“Of course I am, my boy. I’m about to enter immortality. Little hard not to face that with some sorta joy, given all I paid for it.”

“Paid for it!” Arthur’s voice breaks. “You didn't pay for it! Your daughter did!”

“So did yours,” says Larson, who shouldn’t know that, who must have been told by Kayne. “We both got to where we are through that most unfortunate necessity, didn't we?”

Murderer! Yellow declares.

Six months ago, that would have been it.

Arthur would have lost it. Gone feral, melted into violent goo, stabbed and tore and shouted until he was covered in gore, until Larson was unrecognizable, until the form could compete with Uncle for mess and mayhem and pulp in bad places.

Today, he pauses.

It’s not the same, says John, calm, because this is only for Arthur. You know it’s not. We’ve been over this.

He killed his daughter! says Yellow.

He made a mistake and she died—and what the fuck are you crowing about? Your guy sacrificed his on purpose! One’s an accident and the other isn't! Fuck, how stupid are you? Did I get all the intelligence, is that it?

What? says Yellow, again taken aback, again stuttered to a halt in the middle of rage.

Arthur realizes with a little gut-twist that Yellow is weirdly naive.

Gullible. That’s the word. He just accepts what anybody says in the moment, then applies that black and white, childish morality.

Yellow would not understand half the movies they’d seen of late.

Why? Why was this?

“Because he didn’t get to spend a month all alone, silly,” says Kayne. “Isn’t that neat? It’s all about godhood and nature versus nurture and all that kind of thing. If you’d been awake the whole time, your John would be even screwier than he is. It’s almost like your bad luck scratches the itch of some eager, chaotic observers. Anyway! What’s the hold up? That’s the guy who hurt you, Arty. That’s the guy who made your teeth loose. You really gonna hesitate now?”

That’s the guy means Yellow, not Larson, and this just got more complicated. “What happens to Yellow if I do this?” says Arthur, because he never asked that before, and he should have, and it’s probably too late, but that’s just how his life goes.

“Hm? Oh, he’ll die,” says Kayne.

John gasps.

Shit. “And what happens to John, then?” says Arthur.

“Heck if I know. This is all new territory, which is why I’m being so patient. Don’t want to miss a thing.”

“Lead me, Jesus, lead me,” sings Larson. “Why don't you lead me in the middle of the air, and if my wings should fail me, won't you provide me with another pair?”

“So you’re crackers,” says Arthur. “Barmy. Lost your damned mind. This isn’t Jesus. This is Kayne. He’s not going to do anything good for you.”

Kayne gasps. “Such ingratitude!” And he laughs. “Next, you’re going to say you don’t want your office filled with music boxes.”

Okay, that��

Okay.

Arthur needs another moment.

“You don’t get one,” Kayne whispers in his ear. “It’s time. John didn’t tell you, and I’m glad he didn’t, because you are fucking glorious this upset, but it’s time. Kill him.”

“Why?” whispers Arthur, and means so many things.

Kayne doesn’t bother to reply.

I… Arthur, I….

“Will you be all right, John?”

I don’t know.

Arthur grips the knife. Its burning leather handle creaks, and Arthur accepts the pain in his palm, because something this messy should not be easy.

Yellow gasps. You’re going to do it in cold blood?

“I’m sorry, Yellow,” says Arthur, because Yellow is not really the King in Yellow, any more than John is. “It seems I fucked up for you all over the place.”

You’re a killer. I don’t expect anything better from you.

He’s human, says John. He’s made mistakes, and stayed alive. Your guy’s no better.

Yellow seems stunned again. He’s not?

Larson laughs. “Little guy, it’s all right. This is where it was always going. Why do you think I had to get you to New York? You’re my final step. My sacrifice. Your death’ll elevate me, son. Mister Lester, I’m fully ready. Do the deed. Let’s get this over with. Then, when I’m ascended, and I’m a god, I’ll be sure to stop by and say hi.”

Arthur’s throat is tight. “He can’t be serious.”

“His deals aren’t for you to know,” says Kayne. “Also, you’re out of time.”

“Wait,” says Arthur.

“Say goodbye to John in three,” says Kayne.

“Wait!” says Arthur, who has an idea, who suddenly thinks—

“Two,” says Kayne. 

With a choked, miserable sound, Arthur cuts Larson’s throat.

But not with the knife Kayne gave him.

“Oh, foul!” Kayne cries. “Oh! Oh! Cheater!”

Andrew! says Yellow, sounding distraught. Andrew! No! No!

What did you do? says John.

“Improvised?” says Arthur, who has no idea what he’s done, except he had to save John, except the knife Kayne gave him was maybe special, except this complete guess was the only hope he had, and he’d only had time to stuff Kayne’s knife away and grab his own instead.

Larson gargles. He sounds like he’s trying to laugh.

Andrew! Yellow sobs it. Andrew! He doesn’t seem to be dying.

So it worked?

So Larson doesn’t get godhood?

Arthur’s hand is warm with blood. He doesn’t know what to do. He tries to clean that knife inside his jacket, where he hopes it won’t show.

Kayne sighs. Paces. 

Kayne punches the wall.

It’s a bad sound, cracking, crumbling. Something inside the building crashes down, and there are screams.

Arthur shakes.

“You know,” says Kayne. “I’ll give you this one. I’ll hand it to you. Didn’t predict it. That’s awful rare. So I’m really pissed at you, and you’ll feel that soon enough—but I can appreciate a good scam.”

“I didn’t pull a scam,” Arthur says, quieter, because Yellow has begun to sob.

It is an ugly sound, wretched, utterly unselfconscious.

He’s doing that because Larson is dead.

It doesn’t feel good. None of this does. Arthur isn’t the same as he was in Addison. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Yellow doesn’t stop crying long enough to answer.

Kayne shoves him suddenly, bruisingly, against the wall. “I am… really… mad at you. I won’t get to pull an experiment like this again for who knows how the fuck long. But… that was the deal. You did the deed. Technically, you’re off the hook. But you, Arthur—you still owe me a favor.”

“I won’t kill Yellow,” Arthur says.

Arthur!

Arthur takes Kayne’s knife back out of his pocket and throws it down, and the clang it makes in the alley is weird, wrong, otherworldly. “I won’t. I’ve done enough to him! Fuck you, I—”

He chokes.

There is a fist is in his throat, impossibly swelling, knuckles distending, expanding, distorting, threatening to tear him from the inside. Can’t swallow around it. Can’t—

It stops. 

Arthur gasps, ragged.

“Better idea,” says Kayne, and suddenly, Yellow’s sobbing is inside his head.

“John!” Arthur manages, gagging, terrified John was swapped into the dead man’s body.

I’m here! I—what the fuck?

Leave me alone! Yellow howls.

They’re both in there, equally loud, equally growly, and it’s too much, there is a weight to the fulness of an eldritch god in his brain, and his own soul feels pinched and battered and stepped on, and he can’t breathe, and—

“This should be fun,” he hears Kayne say, and then he passes out.

#

The arguing is what wakes him.

That doesn’t matter. I don’t care.

Then you’re a hypocrite of the highest order, John snarls.

What does that make you?

Look, you moron, just calling me things doesn’t make it—Arthur! The change in tone is remarkable. Arthur—are you all right? Talk to me, Arthur.

The sharp concern in John’s voice—tenderness mixed with violence, crafted for him.

Arthur recalls Yellow weeping over Larson, and he aches for him, and wonders if his own inner compass has gotten even more broken over the last day. “I’m… I’m here. Fuck, I sound strangled.”

He does. Haggard, raspy. 

Larson could out-sing him at this very moment, and he won’t be able to sing to calm Yellow for a while, and that is such an odd thought to have that Arthur’s face burns, and he rolls over to press it into the cool pillow.

Wait. Pillow?

Lucky, says Yellow, low and bitter. Yours woke up.

I told you he would. He’s remarkable.

Andrew was remarkable.

Wallace Larson was a motherfucking cheat who traded children and people’s lives all the time to seem interesting. Arthur does it all on his own.

Arthur feels not all on his own a little too much, right now. “Yellow.”

What? says the new voice, and the tone is fearful, and challenging, and tight.

Is he doing this?

He’s doing this.

Arthur already decided he’s doing this, and he may be many things, but he doesn’t easily change his mind. “I’m sorry.”

Both the voices in his head are still for a moment.

What? they say together.

“I’m sorry. I met you when I was… I was at the worst of myself. I lied to you, and tried to control you, because I was so afraid of losing you again. Losing… John again. Kayne told me you were him, and I thought… you know, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I fucked up, Yellow. I’m sorry.” It feels weak. “That’s all.”

There is a trembling inside, a non-corporeal shaking that feels like maybe the fault line has been transplanted into him.

How dare you? Yellow says.

I told you so, says John.

How dare you lie to me! You just murdered my… you killed him!

Arthur sighs. “I did. I wasn’t letting John get taken. No matter what shape I’m in, that’s… just how it’s going to be.”

That trembling again.

Larson was ready to sacrifice you, like I said—but you’re safe now, says John to Yellow, which Arthur did not expect. You’re me. He won’t hurt you.

That’s more faith in Arthur than Arthur has for himself.

I’m not you. We can’t even merge, Yellow says.

“You can’t?” says Arthur, who’d forgotten that was a thing until this moment.

No. We… we’ve both changed too much. We can’t.

There is sorrow in John’s voice, deep and aching, a finality that communicates loss Arthur can’t fully comprehend.

It’s a farewell to a thing Arthur cannot even imagine needing.

He has no idea how to engage with it, so he goes for familiar ground. Not a poem, but the movie they just saw—a way to say, I love you, without saying those words. “‘You choose me, Cleopatra, against the world,’” he says.

John practically surges to respond. ‘Then we'll meet it! We'll smash it to pieces, put it together again and call it ours!’

Yellow is, understandably, confused. You’re going to smash the world?

“No, we… no. It’s a movie.”

What’s a movie?

John scoffs. Your asshole of a guy didn’t even take you to see a movie? We’ve seen six in just a few months!

But what is one? I want to see one! What is it?

Arthur is not going to see a movie right now. He feels like his head weighs a thousand pounds. “How did I get to a bed? Did Kayne bring me here?”

There is a distinctly guilty pause. So, says John. When you’re fully unconscious, uh. We. Um.

We have control of your hideous form, Yellow informs him. You’re in your hotel room.

“What? Wait, what?” Arthur sits up. He feels the same. Blind, left hand and foot numb. Head too heavy, but—“What?”

When you’re unconscious, repeats John, we have control. So we got you out of there, because there’s a dead body, and we don’t need to face the police again.

Cowards, both of you, says Yellow.

Maybe he should take Yellow to see some morality plays before the movies, or something. “Where’s the knife? It had my fingerprints.”

Fucking Kayne took it back. It was weird, Arthur. I’m glad you couldn’t see it. Even with me looking through your eyes, they bled.

Arthur stiffens and reaches up. Sure enough, there are dried tracks of blood from his eyes down his neck. “Fuck. Can you see?”

Yes. You seem all right. Just… that knife was bad.

Why—Yellow stops.

“Why what?”

Why didn’t you use it?

Arthur’s not sure he’s in any shape to verbalize this. “What I did to you before wasn’t right. What Larson was doing to you now wasn’t right. It’s time someone didn’t do the wrong thing by you, is all.”

Silence in response.

Whatever that means.

Arthur stands, shaky as a newborn lamb, and feels his way to the bathroom. He strips as he goes, dropping clothing in a trail.

Is it time for a rite? says Yellow, oddly hopeful.

Rite?

He’s naked.

So?

This is too weird, and Arthur does not engage. He turns on the shower. 

But… humans get naked for rites.

John scoffs. He told you that? What the fuck?

They don’t get naked for rites? Yellow sounds lost again.

“So what you’re telling me is fucking Larson never washed his arse,” Arthur mutters, and John laughs.

Don’t you know anything about humans? says John then, disgusted.

Of course I do! More than you!

They are clearly going to be at this for a while.

Arthur lets them, hoping they tire themselves out.

He’s scraped from the bricks in the alley. Bruised from Kayne’s manhandling, and, he thinks, inside his throat. His right hand, disturbingly, seems to have been slightly burned where he held that weird knife. He can’t be sure, but he thinks he’s lost his fingerprints.

But he’s okay. He made it.

He always makes it.

And for the first time in his life, weirdly, he feels like he might have a second chance at something he truly fucked up.

They’re still fighting about naked humans. It’s obviously a cleansing rite!

You’re a moron!

“Yellow,” says Arthur. “I’m sorry you lost your person. He was a monster, but… I get it, and I’m sorry. Good, bad—they don’t matter when there’s grief.”

Another trembling pause as the steam rises, and Arthur washes away the blood, the sweat, the dubious stickiness he finds where Kayne grabbed him through his suit jacket.

I… didn’t like it, says Yellow, soft.

“I know. I think we’ve all… we’ve all gone through some loss here, through no fault of our own.”

Don’t tell me you feel bad for taking that fucker out, says John. You’ve been wanting him dead for months.

Arthur knows clarification is needed, and it is the hardest thing to do, but he has to make this second chance count. “Since I learned he sacrificed his daughter for power, yes. It made me think of losing my little girl, and though that was… that was an accident, I couldn’t… imagine someone doing it on purpose. I went a little insane.”

A little? scoffs John.

“A lot insane, then. Still. Yellow wouldn’t have landed in him at all if I hadn’t been such an ass.”

Actually, says John. About that.

Arthur has been thinking. “You made a deal with Kayne.”

I… yes.

Why? says Yellow.

To get back to Arthur.

Why? Yellow says.

He’s mine, says John.

“And, what? It was just about getting me to New York?”

Yes. He said if I did that, I could stay in you. He even hinted he might give me a body, if I paid his debt right, though it wasn’t… worded clearly. If I failed, and couldn’t get you to New York, I’d… I’d go back to the Dark World. But then we were here, and nothing happened, and I… I sort of hoped he’d forgotten.

“You could’ve told me.” It hurts a little. More than a little.

I’m sorry.

Arthur sighs. “I forgive you. We made it through. Just tell me anything else like that, all right?”

I will. I promise.

Yellow is quiet. 

Arthur has no idea how this conversation might stack up against whatever else Yellow has heard.

He dries off and limps back to the bed, where he falls face-first into the pillow. “No joyrides while I’m out. I need rest.”

You adapted to that news pretty quickly, says John, suspicious.

“I have not adapted at all. I’m simply too damn tired to engage with it right now. Tomorrow, I’ll have a proper panic over it, but for the next few hours, I mean it. No joyrides.”

Fine. No joyrides.

But what if we—

We promised. No joyrides.

I didn’t promise, Yellow grouses.

I did, and we are both the King in Yellow, and that’s our word. Shut up.

They are never going to stop.

Weirdly… it’s not that hard to tune them out.

It reminds Arthur of the strangest thing: those noisy, chaotic, wonderful days when Faroe’s “friends”—really just toddlers her age, in the neighborhood—came over, and everybody was yelling and squealing and laughing and demanding, and all the other parents (mothers, they were all mothers, and Arthur never fit in) clustered like chortling geese to add to the ruckus.

And it shouldn’t have been peaceful, but it was.

It shouldn’t have been the kind of noise he could sink into, but it was.

Why this is like that, Arthur doesn’t know.

Maybe he doesn’t need to know.

For some reason, John is now telling Yellow the plot of The Thirty-Day Princess. And then the Baron said, ‘We are on a wild goose egg!’

Yellow laughs.

Is it safe, to leave them unmonitored like this?

Then again, maybe they need it.

Arthur certainly needs it.

He has no idea what to do with this. He has no idea if he can keep them both in there. His skull feels oddly… strained.

But now, right now, he needs sleep.

John promised no joyrides. (Arthur will deal with that horror tomorrow.)

John’s promise, in spite of today’s unpleasant surprise, is good enough.

Yellow’s grief is real. That’s going to take time to navigate. Arthur feels he owes that much.

So… is everyone safe now? At least until Kayne returns?

Maybe.

Arthur doesn’t know how this works, and he’s no longer arrogant enough to assume he ever will.

Maybe he doesn’t have to know.

Maybe it’s enough to survive, and listen, and forgive, and try to make up for mistakes.

To take his chance to make up for one, and hold it with all his heart.

Arthur drifts off to the sound of John’s attempt at a Ruritanian accent.

Maybe it really is coming up roses, after all.

--------

NOTES

Of course, I had to do ridiculous research for this so it would all be accurate.

It's part of my self-indulgence. Hush.

Dancing Lady on Wikipedia, and you get to see the scene that made poor Arthur hot and bothered right here on YouTube.

Death Takes a Holiday is on YouTube in terrible resolution here, BUT if you skip to 1:04:44, you get to see where Grazia chooses to go with Death.

The romp that is Jimmy the Gent. The quip about ethics and carbunkles is right here, at 1:25.

The Thirty Day Princess was hard to track down, but I found a solid review of it, a clip of the Ruritanian accent, and of course, Bing Crosby's She Reminds Me of You.

The Barretts of Wimpole Street, including that DEEPLY uncomfortable clip where the father seems to think all sex is evil, then gets weirdly handsy with his daughter. Yowza.

Oh, Cleopatra... they don't make movies like this anymore. On. Your. Knees.

As for Yellow... well, I saw how he responded to Larson at the end of 28. He just... accepted whatever Larson said - weirdly innocent about it, which made Larson even creepier to me. I sort of figured without a chance to reset and think (like John had during the coma), he wouldn't be able to grow the same way.

The hymn Larson was singing, My Soul is Gonna Live With God. In your dreams, asshole.

[mego42]

Shamelessly stealing @foxmagpie​’s monthly rec thing without the ability to get my life together to do these on a monthly basis so, seasonal recs! So excited to see if I manage to do this again with anything remotely resembling consistency but i’ve been keeping the notes for approximately 43 years (or since ~september, whatever that means) so by god i’m gonna use them. 

found my thrill - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe​

Turner POV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

guys turner is SO OBSESSED with Beth and Rio

both canonically and in this fic

it’s gr9

also features a weirdly soothing and relatable cord untangling moment as a metaphor

truly disturbingly relatable turner pov tbh

relentless boomer disdain, always a plus

led to the creation of this monstrosity, not sure what kind of a monster would do that

War In My Mind - mintletters16

Backread!!!!

post-213, gorgeous character study 

guaranteed to make you feEl stUfF

I really love the like, cyclical, fractured pattern of Beth’s internal monologue, it gives the whole thing a really affecting at times dreamy, at times haunted vibe

the end twist is *chef’s kiss*

mourning bells - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet​

Backread!!!!

Later s2 era, Rio’s at a funeral, gets drunk and calls Beth

V short, kind of…..mmm, not sweet, but almost? Idk

It’s got a wistful sort of almost/i can be quiet with you vibe that i go extremely bonkers for

delinquents - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Lol are any of you actually not reading this yet?

g o d ch 8 where do i start

First off how ABSOLUTELY VERY DARE for the tragic angst that is delinquents!beth boland. This poor baby, this precious bean. MUST PROTEC

SHE’S TRYING HER BEST AND I LOVE HER

zero percent deserves dean’s clammy hands, no i have not forgotten, tattooed on my brain, will never forgive

I also love love love love LOVE the ruby/stan subplot happening

(and ruby’s mom!!!!!) (seriously though you write the best moms)

oh god and baby beth starting to have confusing feelings about rio?????? *chef’s kiss*

p sure i was just like, straight screaming the entire end of the chapter

the dugout is like, pure serotonin

I can’t even talk about the closet

tHe teNsiOn

thank you i will take eleventy billion

don't give it a hand, offer it a soul - medievalraven / @medievalraven

am a desperate heaux for any fic that features rio and mick friendship

you are all incredibly shocked i know

still would not be mad if this swerved into rio x mick fake dating but beth x rio is cool too i guess

Speaking of things i am a desperate heaux for: DIANE!!!!!!!!

and DATING ANNIE???????????? Blessed

honestly this fic is worth it purely for the assertion that mick watches queer eye

Why don't we go to Venus? - watermelonriddles / @bensonstablers​

another grief study! 

apparently i was working through some stuff in september, idk, that was like 4 years ago

considering it’s the premise of the fic, i don’t think it’s a spoiler to say this fic is canon divergent and working with the premise that rio killed beth in 302

he is uh, not coping well

extremely haunted you might say

lots of marcus and rhea which is a delight!

rhea is to good for him tbh

i said what i said

truly top notch dream (nightmare?) sequences

the conversation at the end is extremely uncalled for

drop the game - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet​

Backread!!!!

Am going to die mad Beth and Rio didn’t hook up in 211 but luckily this fic scratched the itch 

(temporarily, it’s a fairly permanent itch)

Bonus rec: missing scene series i wanna do bad things to you featuring 2x02 and 2x04

Viva Voce - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx​

Whoops we woke up married Vegas shenanigans!! 

So cute!!!!! So sexy!!!!! 

What more do you want?

am desperately obsessed with how beth can’t help stalking rio

feels right, feels organic

this makes me feel a lot of stuff about how they could be without their canon garbage between them

🎶 we could’ve had it aaaaaaaaaaall 🎶

you showed me colors (i can't see them with anyone else) - gild_fire / @gild-and-fire​

really into the use of color to illustrate beth’s emotional state, i feel like there’s a word for that but idk what it is

UNIMPORTANT

really nice job capturing beth’s inner vulnerability balanced by her outer stubbornness

am DESPERATELY into Mick playing matchmaker

more please???????

Both Sides of the Law - JoeyLee / @joeyjoeylee​

LAW SCHOOL AU! I suuuuuuper love Beth and Rio here (alt pov!! a gift!!!!) I love how initially prickly they are, I love how it’s evolving into a grudging respect, I love how INCREDIBLY AND HILARIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH EACH OTHER THEY ARE and neither one of them seems to see it

listen I know we’re all already foaming at the mouth over this one but as it’s gonna go down as one of my all time favorites it bears repeating/rereccing

cannot stress enough how masterful the use of POV is here, both voices feel completely true and distinct and I love how the alternating chapters revisit, reveal and emphasize pieces of each other

i can’t talk about this fic without hyperventilating

I LOVE IT SO MUCH YOU GUYS

the slow burn is going to ACTUALLY KILL ME

rip, no regrats

Earned It - wakeupflawless / @wakeupflawless​

spanking

that’s it that’s the pitch

H O T

living for beth’s exit in the first chapter, rio and i are both incredibly into it

second chapter also features violently possessive Rio who cannot deal with anyone messing with his girl so if that’s your thing boy howdy get on it

shake, baby, shake - openhearts

backread!!!!!

according to my bookmarks this was a reread but ???????

must’ve read it in the fugue state that followed reading for a moment we were strangers which is gr9 and I believe I have recced it before. If not, horrible oversight, reccing it now

beth and Rio POV lead up to the bathroom break, beautifully done, low-key feel bad reccing it bc the end point of both chapters makes me want to throw things but it’s super worth it for the tEnsiOn. ENJOY

What the Sea Wants, the Sea Will Have - flashindie / @pynkhues​

I’m assuming all of y’all are already reading this

If not OH MY GOD FIX YOUR LIVES

P I R A T E  A U

I’m sorry maybe you didn’t hear me piRaTE aU

meticulously researched, brain-meltingly vibrant, already painfully sexy slow-burning PIRATE AU

god where to start okay so first off, the world-building here straight up breaks my brain, sophie’s put in the work and it SHOWS

second, the atmosphere. i’m generally a pretty like, vague mental picture sort of reader but the sensory detail here grabs you by the throat and like, forcibly hauls you in whether your brain’s wired that way or no

and hey speaking of throats if you, like me, go a little funny about the knees at the idea of beth holding a knife to rio’s throat (he’s fine, calm down), there’s a v excellent beth-in-a-barrel moment for you

oh christ and the sexy tension

it’s gonna be a race to see which slow burn takes me out first, this or law school

Stunner - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Another high school AU, this time with baby Rio absolutely head over heels for his older sister’s bff

stunner!Rio has an emotional earnestness about him that I feel like delinquents!Rio has already outgrown and it’s so SWEET I can’t get enough

Desperately cute!!!!!!

alL he waNts iS foR beTh tO bE hiS girL

also unreasonably angsty???????

ANN ARBOR IS NOT THAT FAR MEGAN

A Heart's A Heavy Burden - tooshyforthis / @bathroombreaks​

Howl’s Moving Castle AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Howl’s!!!!!!!!!!!

perfect opp to roast Rio for being a Dramatique Heaux 

and it’s gonna be 9 chapters?????? H Y P E

author’s note boldly presumes I did not know I needed this AU when the reality is I did in fact know I needed this AU, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to deliver

so blessed

author also claims to not be team nose stud and yet it features prominently in all its magnificent glory

what is the truth dot gif

A Bit of a Stretch - septiembre / @septiembur​

SO????? CUTE?????????

would be on this list for Rio calling Beth E alone tbh

really really really really really love this Rio POV of being settled into a relationship with Beth

It manages to be sweetly domestic af while still holding the edge that makes brio brio which is a neat trick

@septiembur may be a witch

beth’s approach to getting rio to do yoga with her is hilarious and exactly right, canon-typical amounts of subtlety 

1000000/10

Post Break-Up Sex - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs​

stg this was called Hit Shuffle

no matter

h O T

with a side of damn i’ve made some questionable choices in my life haven’t i introspection

(no regrats tho)

(esp not with this fic)

not the point of the fic by a long shot but i’m also extremely obsessed with Weed Eddie, so real

She drains my soul... she drains it not - niham87 / @niham87​

ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH THIS CONCEPT

am a complete sucker for paranormal world building that satirizes bureaucracy 

Is that a trope? If so that’s my favorite

I did it. I’m picking a single favorite. You know what that is growth dot gif

ANYWAY i love the concept, i love the humor, i love beth instantly clicking with annie

I love her and mick’s sort of grudging professional courtesy

Love beth as a champion of environmental responsibility and all of the underworld being like …...okay??

cannot wait to see where this goes

Nine-Tenths - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

sometimes i think about rio putting beth’s hair in a ponytail and have to go lie down

science please explain why this rUinS mE

wait hold on i skipped ahead

HEY KIDS DO YOU LIKE UNBEARABLY CUTE DOMESTIC TENDERNESS

opens with rio sleepily holding beth’s hand to his heart so that’s the kind of thing you’ll be dealing with

uGH theY’RE sO CUTe

idk why precisely but rio adding hair ties to his bracelet collection is my undoing every time

Missed Call - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Rio doesn’t come home from a job when he’s supposed to. Beth (and I!!!!!!!) slowly loses her mind

Truly a masterpiece of rising tension

Will literally never forgive her for calling this light angst

I was SO STRESSED OUT

The first person to point out there was an author’s note at the beginning I obvs didn’t read is getting blocked

crush - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Listen even though this is centered around two OCs, they are OCs FROM a (n iconic) brio fic AND Beth, Ruby and Rio all make cameos (I mean, Rio’s pretty present since he lives in Mar’s mind rent free bc they are THE SWEETEST MOST ADORABLE BEST OF FRIENDS so idk if i’d call it a cameo but whatever)

and even if it didn’t feature any official GG characters I’d still rec is bc that’s mY SON AND this fic is TOO CUTE

I have so many feelings over mar and rio growing up and not knowing how to cope with girls becoming a Thing in their life and how it affects their friendship and mar feeling left behind but (SPOILERS) at the end of the story rio starts feeling that too and it’s so poignant knowing how that’s going to continue in delinquents

while mar may be my son, i also claim elena’s #1 stan status

before you’re like meg you’re only reccing it bc it’s a bday present ask yourselves do i really strike you as the kind of person that wouldn’t be equally obnoxious about this either way?

truly cannot fathom how hard i have fallen for these OCs i don’t normally do that

@foxmagpie is definitely a witch

The Ottoman - Niham87 / @niham87​

look i will be the first to admit that i don’t go near as bonkers over the ottoman line in 308 as y’all do

(don’t get me wrong, i love it!!! I love that he laughs and i love that she’s pleased it just doesn’t hit my lose my whole mind button like idk, the dubby or the 306 convo, idk why)

BUT i v v v much love the context this delightful Rio POV pwp gives it

am also absolutely feral for 209 missing scene fic

and anything that captures the complexity of Rio’s s3 feelings for Beth and how twisted they’ve become

so this scratches a bunch of itches, is what i’m trying to say

Bet On It - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

That’s what my brain does when I think about Beth and Rio meeting in ch 1

am DESPERATELY OBSESSED WITH the tension between the two of them in this fic

I love how it plays with the ways they have to rely on but don’t trust each other

plus FAKE DATING and BED SHARING (fair warning hasn’t happened yet but the set up is there)

originally supposed to be 2 chapters, already up to 4, prayer circle it goes on forever

do you like drugs (tonight) - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe​

v important focus on hydration, other fic should take note

extremely about the use of cut to and then flashback to enhance the ‘we were on drugs’ vibe

speaking of, beth and rio absolutely would take ecstasy to prove they are fun bc they are the exact kind of idiots that would peer pressure themselves

so glad beth kept her purse, got a bit stressed there for a second, clutches in that kind of circumstance are A Risk

not that i would know

FLAWLESS USE OF VOICEMAIL TBH

really love the ongoing denial that they are remotely into each other while proceeding to demonstrate how they are in fact, extremely into each other, great vibe

rio dances

I know my brain broke too

mmmm bacon

Navigate A Broken Path - flashindie / @pynkhues​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

I have a long standing tradition of getting unreasonably obsessed with side characters so i’m not like, entirely surprised by how obsessed i am with both Mick and Mary Pat but i never in a million years considered them as a ship

AND Y E T

they fit????? so perfectly?????? It’s amazing how she developes them individually enough that i look at them together and think ah yes this makes perfect sense for both characters

and they’re such an amazing foil to Beth and Rio? 

can ships have foils? do i know what a foil is? 

unimportant

GUYS you dON’T uNDERStAN d 

hell i don’t understand

how absolutely very dare you make me care about YET ANOTHER set of gg ‘verse children

do not read this fic if you have no interest in feelings you zero percent asked for

wHA t hAPPeNED iN aLASkA?????????

A Moment’s Silence - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs​

*makes sign of the cross*

y’all are gonna make me rediscover religion

extremely appreciate the author’s note approach to backstory top notch prioritization

listen it’s basically 3k of beth deep throating rio idk what more you need me to say about it

it is…..good stuff

bless the kinkmeme or fest whatever we’re calling it

praise - civillove / @blainesebastian​

I mean you had me at “three times rio calls beth a good girl and one time he really means it”

ephemeral rio

I left that note for myself in here in the middle of the night and haven’t the foggiest what i was thinking but i stand by it none the less

okay okay i think i know what i meant, this fic (as do all of my fav civillove brio fics) has this sort of like, liminal, in the quiet moments feel to them that makes the moments and feelings somehow feel like i’m catching a glimpse of something secret and precious???

idk i just really like it okay

Heart and Soul - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo​

oh look more unbearably sweet domestic tenderness, this time to music

thank you ma’am for my life

rio remembers beth used to play piano and gets her one and revoltingly cute shenanigans result

also hilarity

and sexiness

this fic has it all, truly

shout out to mick who sees no reason to keep rio’s feelings to himself

good girls tumblr fic - prettylittlementirosa / @hypermania​​

cheating and reccing a whole series

It’s my list and i can do what i wanna

stop crying about it, it’s four fics and they’re all AMAZING absolutely impossible to pick a fav

truly flawless characterization, next level ability to capture evocative mood, cannot get enough

three’s a crowd: who knew ballroom dancing while dean watches and grinds his teeth could be so sexy 

(trick question everything about that premise sounds A++++ and boy howdy does it live up)

feel it on the way home: rio tries to break up with beth, it goes about as well as you’d expect

(thE angSty tenSioN)

i want to play the game: [from the floor] i’m still not ready to talk about it

(rio/turner, missing scene, 10000000% a taste of what went down in that hotel room)

june after dark: pitch perfect annie pov, really really love the take that Annie is the baby whisperer, can’t fully explain why but it feels incredibly right

(ANNIE X NANCY COULD WORK SO WELL YOU GUYS)

[hopeymchope]

Godzilla Singular Point

I came into Singular Point with some trepidation because Godzilla’s history in anime is both very recent and extremely bad. The three anime movies released between 2017 and 2019 are easily the worst work of famed writer Gen Urobuchi and honestly contain more bullshit than I can even get into here. Those movies and this series were both Godzilla anime properties commissioned by Netflix, which didn’t get my hopes up very much. Thankfully, Singular Point is a very different beast from the anime trilogy. One could argue it’s very different from most Godzilla media, actually — at least from my perspective. And I’m still a pretty entry-level fan of Toho’s Big G, all things considered.

Let me just warn you right up front: This smartphone-based virtual assistant is basically the breakout star of the series. 

When you think “Godzilla,” you probably don’t think “incredibly dense sci-fi concepts,” but with the big G’s first-ever anime series, the writers clearly set out to change that perception. Before the first kaiju even appears, the lead characters are plucked from obscurity and dropped into a mystery that involves fourth-dimensional time travel, physical objects that look different from all sides, theoretical math concepts, self-propagating A.I., and a whole lot more. And it’s NEVER made clear how all of it connects to the rampaging kaiju! Although we spend a lot of time investigating a red dust or sand that is very obviously tied to the monsters in SOME way, no one ever makes a connection that explains the relationship. Maybe we’re supposed to wait for a later season to connect the threads... but let’s get into the idea of “another season” later.

I like to think of myself as someone who typically enjoys hard sci-fi, but even with the characters spending loads of time trying to explain the high concepts driving the story, I was never able to fully wrap my head around what was going on in the mystery at the center of GSP. I rewound and rewatched a few explanations, but I still walked away feeling lost. I eventually settled on some vague, loose understandings of most of the ideas mentioned, but those understandings were subject to being ripped apart in subsequent scenes when I was shown or told something completely at odds with what I thought I knew. I can’t say I was ever bored with the thick, dense scientific concepts on offer — trying to find purchase with these far-out ideas kept me glued to the screen — but damn, I sure wish I was able to comprehend them.

What do we want?! DENSE SCIENTIFIC DISCUSSION AND DEBATE! When do we want it?! AFTER THOROUGH RESEARCH, TESTING, AND PEER REVIEW!

Another weird thing about this show is that the lead characters remain in separate locations and on separate tracks for the entire duration. We have Yun — a mechanical engineer and programmer who has an amazing grasp on physics and human behavior. And we have Mei — a grad student who is deeply invested in theoretical science, UMAs, cryptids and other far-flung concepts. Both of them are basically geniuses in their fields, and even though they take opposing views of just how flexible reality is, their shared ability to think “outside the box” becomes the crucial component in solving the mystery at the core of the series. Because they don’t even know one another (despite being separated by like, ONE degree), they only ever interact via text messages and behind screen names, which feels pretty damn weird. At least  I immediately liked both of them, with Yun being the standout to me because of how his lowkey reactions to crazy shit generates a lot of humor.

This soundtrack cover LIES; you will never see these characters in a room together like this. 

Alas, we don’t get to know the characters a whole lot beyond what we learned of them in the first two episodes. It’s not long before they’re trapped in a series of complicated exposition dumps, endlessly attempting to explain the high concepts of the show to other characters as well as my dumb ass in the audience. The fact that I liked them in the first couple of episodes carried me through more than half of the show, but I was always hoping to see them share more of themselves or just display more emotion. Anime as a medium excels at emotional storytelling. But despite the major, world-altering events the characters are constantly warning us about, none of them seem to have many emotions about said events. 

Further complicating matters is how, when major events finally occur in this show, they are often kept off-screen. One character shockingly dies, but the portrayal of that death is so piss-poor that I didn’t even realize it’d happened until someone mentioned their death in the next episode. After that vague death, I was particularly sensitive to anything that looked like it might possibly be lethal. Yet a later event that is played up as a tragic, fatal occurrence ends up... fine, somehow? It’s not clear how the character survives, because — even after one of our heroes is left screaming their name in despair as they seemingly die — nobody ever talks about or explains how he’s just fine a couple of scenes later. And near the end of the series, there’s a major transformation that occurs for one of the characters, and we never see it happen nor do we understand HOW it happened. It’s just that suddenly, this character is extremely different due to off-screen reasons that are only vaguely verbalized.

I guess these two really bonded at some point for some reason? And what you are seeing here is literally the height of emotion shown in the entire show.

Even though the overarching story of the series so far pretty clearly wraps up in episode 13, we then get a post-credits tease for a potential second season. So the question becomes: Would I watch that?

Well... Godzilla Singular Point is a series with a lot of issues that kept me at arms’ length from it — tons of extremely confusing dialogue, highly frustrating choices in direction that lead to baffling storytelling, characters who are mostly exposition-dumping — and yet there’s still some foundational work here that I appreciated a lot. When the action occurs, it’s pretty cool/fun. And when urban destruction occurs, it can be awe-inspiring. The human characters, though little-explored, have likable and interesting foundations to them that could be expanded upon. And I didn’t even mention the soundtrack, which features a variety of musical styles combined with the classic Ifukube theme music and an OP that is an absolute banger. (I have a weakness when it comes to music; a good soundtrack can carry me through even the blandest series sometimes.) Even the core idea of centering a Godzilla series around hard science and mathematical concepts is a compelling one, I think! I just hated the execution of it; they went waaaaay too far on poorly explaining incredibly complex, mind-bending concepts for my pea brain to handle it. They spend so much time trying to explain things, yet somehow they never succeeded for me. 

Ultimately, I’d probably give the show another chance. But if I do give another season a chance, it’ll be on probation. I wouldn’t watch the entire season unless I could see within four episodes that they’d definitely improved things.

Would I recommend that anyone watch the series as it currently stands? I mean... not really? I guess if you really dig complex math, hard theoretical science, and/or Toho’s stable of monsters, then maaaaaaaaaaybe give it a shot. But otherwise? Naaaahh. It’s not good enough at anything to make it stand out from the anime crowd. I didn’t hate it like I hated the Godzilla anime films, but Singular Point is still something that both casual viewers and most fans can comfortably ignore for the time being. It’s not a complete disaster, and it’s not without its highlights... but it’s definitely disappointing in my opinion.

OKAYOKAYOKAY, so let’s talk about the kaiju for a bit! 

Below will be SPOILERS revealing all of the kaiju that appear in Godzilla Singular Point and giving my feelings on them. 

Godzilla — It’s interesting to see a version of Godzilla that borrows some ideas from Shin Godzilla. Shin G has been incredibly unique until now, but this Godzilla manages to fold some of Shin’s distinctive aspects in with the more classic/typical versions to build a fun new depiction. Be forewarned that Godzilla doesn’t show up until the series is halfway over, and he doesn’t get a ton of screen time, either. He’s used quite sparingly and kept in hazy settings, often framed from the neck-up when they show him. It’s a little frustrating that they felt the need to shroud him so much, but I respect the fact that whenever Godzilla is shown, the destruction he causes is on a scale far beyond anything that the rest of the kaiju ever do. He is pure devastation. 

Rodan — He’s easily the biological kaiju with the most screen time in Singular Point. Rodan is first introduced as one gigantic pterosaur, but if you’ve seen ANY trailers for this show then you already know that his depiction transitions into an asston of smaller pterosaurs, all of whom are also called “Rodan.” (Apparently the word Rodan is both singular and plural, like the word “buffalo.”) Although he looks kind of cool at first, pretty soon Rodan showing up isn’t special or threatening anymore. Rodan appearances go from “a big goddamn deal” to “some bland background noise” before the series is even 1/3 finished. The design might be a little too far removed from the original for my own taste, but even if I didn’t think that, I wouldn’t be able to care for this Rodan simply because he’s rendered so unimportant and unimpressive.

If you go out in the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise... 

Anguirus — Now check this guy out! Anguirus gets one of the coolest fights in the show and also demonstrates some powers that are well beyond anything we’ve seen him do before. Because he sticks to unpopulated areas, we never see him do much damage to Japan, but he is definitely holding all the attention when he’s on-screen. He’s a highlight for me — a total badass who is very unique in his abilities. And the stated origin for his name is goddamn adorable.

Manda — Yup, Manda is in this series... but I don’t have much to say for him. It seems like the creators of the anime didn’t have much to say about him either. His role amounts to little more than a repeated cameo, and in most of those cameos you only ever see his tail. When we finally see his full body, it’s done so briefly and kept at a distance, leaving me with no real impression. I had to look up his design online and... yup, that sure looks like Manda. Final score: MEEEEHH.

Kumonga — I definitely did not see this appearance coming! Kumonga is much smaller here than you may be used to, but she gets to star in the most suspenseful sequence in the series and easily earns the most exciting cliffhanger moment at the end of an episode. I was utterly glued to the show during her screen time, which comes with a lot of icky twists. Good ones! I honestly like Kumonga here more than I ever have previously.

NEW PHONE WHO DIS

Salunga — Uh, who? This is the one monster that isn’t based on a classic Toho kaiju but instead is a brand-new creation. I suppose that everybody who touches the Toho Kaiju franchise wants to make their own mark on it in some regard. But a big part of the fun of this series for me personally was the anticipation of seeing new interpretations and designs of classic Toho monsters. And so, given that he kind of resembles both Baragon and Gabara, I never stopped wishing they’d just used one of those guys as the basis and namesake. Taken on his own, however? He’s... pretty neat. Not unique or exciting, but solidly above par.  He resembles a cross between a lizard/dinosaur and an ape, plus his head has some nifty coloration. 

Our Jaguar!

Jet Jaguar — I guess Jet Jaguar isn’t exactly a kaiju in the traditional sense because he’s a Giant Robot. However, if you want to consider him one, then I wager he probably gets even more screen time than Rodan! We meet him almost immediately when the series begins. Initially an odd pilot-driven robot that was constructed at the whim of a quirky old factory-owner with too much disposable income, Jet Jaguar grows and changes over the course of the show, ultimately undergoing a transition in episode 7 that makes him pretty damn impossible to dislike. In fact, I utterly adored him by then. This is definitely the best Jet Jaguar I’ve ever seen. His design is recognizably similar to the original yet utterly distinct, too. Like many of the other kaiju here, he’s not nearly as big as he was when he was first introduced to the movies, but his size is ideal for battling the smaller-scale monsters that we spend most of the series on.

[creativenicocorner]

Slides a ⭐ for a star person :p

Holy shit it took over a year and I barely remember which fanfic ask this is about...I think it's like a director's cut one? REGARDLESS! I do remember the star was to like talk about whatever - and while looking for a WIP I came across an attempt to answer this WITHIN a wip? Past Nico what were you thinking?!

I do know this was written sometime before Ch15 of Terpsichore came out, because there were a few references? But I rephrased the wording a bit.

Forgive me for using this as an excuse to just babble on about how I choose the music titles for chapter sections in Terpsichore, but also, I'm not entirely sorry haha Without further Ado! Here’s hoping this rambling makes sense haha!!

⭐ AN ANSWER!（♥￫ｏ￩♥）

So it’s taken me a long time to figure out how I wanted to answer this. For a while I was going to ramble about M*A*S*H how it was a rather formative show for me growing up, especially in its anti-war message as well as how it feels like a comedy played in a minor key. There was even going to be a link to a video essay on the show, and then I was going to hint at a want to write a series following the changelings in a pre-show context in the sort of vibe M*A*S*H gave.

But it got lost, and weighty…and…idk, I can’t seem to stick to a lot of things these days? I don’t know.

But there’s always been in me the want to attempt to explain why I choose the music pieces I choose to title the sections in each chapter. Cause despite the little message at the bottom of the first chapter and the last chapter talking about motifs leitmotifs…writing prose is nothing like composing music.

And not only that I’m sure less than half of the people reading the fic will listen along with the playlist. Which is 100000% fine! I anticipate it even!

Because at best, those sectional pieces serve less as soundtrack more like a silent movie’s musical medley.

Because it’s the written word, and I’m not Andrew Hussie ldgj though the day I find out how to put a little ‘play button’ to listen to music during a fic, I might do that. But at this point in time Hell No haha.

Despite this, there is a process behind my music selections.

There is a difference between what I consider ‘corpse de ballet’/ ‘ensemble’ sections, and ‘leads’ / ‘duet’ sections.

Or what my poor readers go through as ‘a shit ton of prospective shifts’ and two prospectives at best, at the same time. I don’t know why I’m such a fan of bouncing between perspectives so much that you probably feel seasick. I always consider it a miracle anyone understands what the heck is going on dfjglk The answer is probably because I like third person omniscient writing, and am a sucker for situational/character irony. But I’m also a grammar school drop out haha and don’t actually know the rules of writing by heart? I’m just a fool with a bunch of vibes and a dictionary doing their best lol.

[ stressed coffee sip ] Fake it til you make it baby

But yeah! Enough borderline weird self deprecating! Let’s talk music!!

So! Usually when writing a section I try and think about who are the central characters in the section, and or what is the theme/emotion I’m trying to call on. Is there a motif, or a reference I can play on musically? An idea or concept I can echo or even enhance? Will it be a specific genera of music tied to a character because that character embodies and or is known for a specific genera (example: Nomura and Opera- more on that at during ACTII )

Once I answer those questions, I’m able to narrow down my music choices. Which, again, acts more like a book of suggested musical medley orchestras and musicians would purchase during the silent movie era as like a cheat sheet of what they could play during a specific scene.

So…for instance, for a character like Barbara Lake I wouldn’t use video game music -or maybe I could…but it would only be in terms of perhaps referencing her son.- who I would have a higher chance at choosing to select a video game music piece for (hang on to your butts ACT II Zelda soundtrack).

In the fic I’ve built the idea that in order to explain Barbara’s ability to paint, that she not only took classes but was part of the production team in putting on a play, mainly in set design painting props. Which opens me to a world of musical options when it comes to Barbara’s character. Especially when certain musicals hold songs that can be really fitting to her character later on. An example of this can be seen in ch3 “Aquarius”, and ch14 “Julia”.

Ch3 is Barbara’s big planned picnic date. The first date she and Walter go on after she ingested the binding spell. The two of them coming together, but also the magic of which awakening something magical inside.

And Ch14 in which the binding spell is broken, but also whatever was holding Barbara’s potential to reaching towards that magical something inside her is also broken. And in a sort of my own attempt at written diegesis between the narrative and the song selections in the sections, the lyrics to Aquarius is written out as Barbara depends into the water. In which it is no longer the dawning of Aquarius, Aquarius is starting to take center stage. Their cue is played.

That would be my example on a very character driven musical choice.

Not only that, but it is at Ch3 where Walter is influenced more and more to Barbara’s appreciation to musicals, so much so that it begins to influence his own array of music pieces. His dreams no longer dialogue from movies he fell asleep to, but sometimes full on reproductions of staged musicals and plays. An example of this can be seen in Ch11 On the Right Track from Pippin the Musical - which oof I could go into a full dissertation on in regards to changelings/Pippin and The Pale Lady/Leading Player.

Not only that, but due to influence from Barbara’s love we get the moment of Walter’s ‘I want’ section piece in the form of Ch9 “Corner of the Sky” (aka Pippin’s I want song as well). The moment before this happened there was the interaction with Angor AND Otto AND the repercussions of Angor attacking the school. It is clear to these characters that Strickler is not giving his all in killing Jim, and perhaps never tried to give his all. Something that Otto proclaims as Strickler making excuses, and Strickler insists is tact.

Then there is the situational character driven choice.

I’m going to continue to use Barbara as an example here, and say that THIS can be seen in Ch2 “No. 9 – Finale Andante” and ch12 “Le Lac Des Cygnes Introduction: Moderato Assai”

Both of these music pieces come from Swan Lake. The reasoning behind the choice is probably asinine in thought process (Barbara Lake, Swan Lake), but also thought out in the sense of the following:

In Season3 of Trollhunters Morgana, in order to attempt to reacquire her shadow staff from Strickler (“The Exorcism of Clair Nuñez), transforms herself to take Barbara Lake’s physical form.

IN THE BALLET SWAN LAKE The wizard Von Rothbart, in order to obtain what they want, transforms (granted someone else) Odile to look like the hero Odette in order to trick the prince into proclaiming this imposter Odile as their one true love. In which Odile is the mirror to Odette, and while looking similar (in fact typically the ballerina who performs as Oddette would also perform as Odile) are opposites in spirit.

And, at least in Terpsichore, what near primordial eldritch force can rival that of the Eldritch Queen that we know from cannon will inevitably impersonate Barbara Lake?

But wait, there’s more.

In chapter 2 the piece used in section 2 is the end of ACTI from Swan Lake. The music hints not only the arrival of Odette, but also her inevitable tragedy. What is written in this section, briefly at that cause we watched how the scene plays out in the show, you don’t need me writing that back at you, but I digress- What is WRITTEN in this section is Barbara sipping the enchanted tea that binds herself to Waltolomew Strickler. Something that you, the viewer and fan will know ends in tragedy, as do I the writer and also fan knows will end in tragedy. The only people out of the loop here are the poor poor characters.

And then the revolving door of bad situations that is ch12 happens, and we return to Swan Lake with “Le Lac Des Cygnes Introduction” In which Barbara is introduced to Jim Lake’s Trollhunting world, finally. But wait! There’s EVEN more.

Because not only is Barbara introduced to Jim’s Trollhunting world, Barbara begins to allow herself an introduction to that weird magical more that’s inside her via dream. And YOU/WE the reader/writer/audience, are introduced to the strange figure Giselle is talking to on the beach of Lake Superior…who…well, you’ve probably already have an idea as to who that figure is ;)c

There are also moments when I just select a song piece because I think it fits Thematially well - ch11’s “Powerhouse” section. Aka the music that plays in Looney Tunes whenever an assembly line montage occurs - to which in that section Jim Draal and Walter are putting together the booby-traps to thwart Angor Rot (as well as try to reassemble some sort of emotional connection between them). Or it could be a reference to a meme I really enjoyed, example Ch12’s “Roundabout” aka the music piece known vernacularly as “The Jojo Meme” but also like…meme aside it’s really good and fits and just lkfgjkgsdj I have a lot of feels about Roundabout and I won’t apologize for it haha

And yet, something I pride myself in, is that you don’t need to know all of this to enjoy the story. It isn’t necessary to listen to the Swan Lake pieces or even the Musicals, or even the Jojo Meme. Because, if I did my job right, those echoes ought to be in the writing. The pieces to the section have always been optional. Just little markings in a booklet to be given to you the reader/composer as a suggestion and you can choose to play those pieces along to the silent film, or boot up a ragtime. And that’s the power you have. And that’s equally as wonderful!

[readingaccountability]

snow crash - neal stephenson

my playlist (because of The Way That I Am)

final thoughts:

okay, im going to be honest right out of the gate- i cant decide whether this is a book id recommend or not. it was really fun for the most part, but personally there was a lot more exposition than id like. the early portions of the novel have exposition which feels completely fair, mostly things relating to worldbuilding. stephenson creates his own vision of future america, and some places online referred to it as cyberpunk, and some as post-cyberpunk. id be more in the latter camp, mostly due to the way he plays with tropes, leaving the reader unsure of which will be subverted and which wont.

the use of language was really fun, and i enjoyed the worldbuilding a lot. his vision of a futuristic capitalistic earth feels surreal in its immediacy and recognizability. the back jacket blurb ends with "a future america so bizarre, so outrageous, you'll recognize it immediately." which, yeah. a texan info-tech magnate? two competing corporations owning the highway system? suburban city-states? this was another enjoyable thing- everything was colorfully named, and names treated totally normally, which kind of poked fun at how we have everyday things named very ludicrously and for the most part we are totally blind to it.

one aspect i really enjoyed was that the author often doesn't make certain things clear to the audience, until he does, and then it becomes necessary to reassess the entire story and setting. this goes to underscore the theme of the importance of information and the ways we take it in and perceive the world based upon it. for example, we don't learn that y.t. is fifteen until maybe 75 pages in, at which point a lot makes sense in retrospect. the same thing occurs in the worldbuilding, as suddenly a detail is given in passing and the reader must incorporate it into the setting, which by default we assume to be similar in many ways to our idea of america. it keeps the reader on their toes as well as furthering the worldbuilding. for the most part, the tech stuff didnt feel outdated to me, despite being a future projected out from '92.

however, aspects of the book are definitely very 1992. id put these into two camps: the first, being that the book does at different times use slurs. the main character is black and asian, the n word is used a few times by racist side-character/antagonist types, as are a few other racial slurs. there was also the occasional usage of the r slur, within the narrative prose itself, rather than usage as an insult within dialogue.

the protagonist, who is named, unfortunately, hiro protagonist, is a great character and felt very fleshed out to me, though at times he reminded me more of dirk strider than normally would be ideal. (its obvious that stephenson and andrew hussie are of a similar type of writer, and play with similar tropes, lmao.) hiro is a man of many worlds. he seems to shift between them easily, though never fully existing in any of them. this is reflected in his background, both in his biracial identity and in having been raised on a myriad of army bases. this is layered further in his fluidity in interacting with both reality and the metaverse, yet remaining slightly, consistently aloof. fascinatingly the first moment i sensed this drop was when we meet juanita- aka where his real and meta realities coincide. the description of them as the adam and eve of the metaverse is both insanely romantic and thematically key (good god i wish we had more than like, two conversations between them). juanita designed the facial component to metaverse avatars, doing the majority of this work when the two were together, and hiro can see echoes of both their facial tics in the face of every avatar in the metaverse. in a way, by having done this work juanita is positioned by the narrative as one of the gods of this digital realm. she is also hiro's call to action, being aware of the coming trouble and alerting him to it, as well as connecting him to the informational database he needs to prepare.

y.t., the secondary protagonist, fucking ruled. i loved that she was just a fifteen year old punkass kid whose mom doesnt know how crazy this part time job is. y.t. being worried about her mom was a great thread throughout, and a really good balance to how obviously independent y.t. is. i do wish there had been a chance to explain more about her background (she has a dad who left who is mentioned in a throwaway sentence, and a boyfriend who is mentioned near the beginning but never again.) i really enjoyed how obviously hyperaware y.t. was at all times about her own place within the insanities of the setting, while also consistently writing her as a teen maybe in way too deep who thinks about things in typically teenage ways. but like, that wasn't ever held against her? the narrative meets her where she is. it was honestly awesome. HOWEVER,

i absolutely hated the raven and y.t. scenes. how creepy!!! he basically statutory rapes her!!! we know hes at least late 20s early 30s, because hes the same age as hiro. if this sort of content is upsetting to read for you, i definitely do NOT recommend this book. (if you want to avoid reading these bits: ch 47 y.t. meets raven, ch 50 they are in a bar eating, ch 52 things happen that result in y.t.'s anti-assault device activating- she did not activate it on purpose, but forgot it was there- and raven is knocked out.)

please PLEASE dont take any of the following analysis as like, trying to be apologetic towards this scenes. because again they were awful and hard to get through and really gross. but im also cognizant that the author was obviously trying to convey something by making the choice, like the way it was written is obviously not condoning this sort of thing.

i think maybe what stephenson was trying to get at with that, was that we see hiro internally negate any potential for anything untoward with y.t. basically immediately, since he kind of senses that she might have a small crush on him (though this doesnt last more than a fleeting moment, especially from her perspective). vs raven, whose 'poor impulse control' warning tattoo eventually elicits a sarcastic remark from hiro after he finds out raven and y.t. were "a thing". i really dont think hiro knew how far it went? like it was just suuuper weird, but i figured it was meant narratively to 1. execute the chekovs gun of y.t.'s anti-assault device, 2. contrast hiro and raven (especially considering the bike-racing argument where theyre telling the story together, which is supposed to parallel them, while contrasting the differences in how they ended up?), and 3. just to get raven unconscious, i guess. but good god it was weird and i hated every second of it, why couldnt the device have like, activated way earlier?? gah. fucking upsetting. moving past that!

honestly i was really frustrated by how little screentime juanita got, because the way she was introduced was so fucking interesting and then shes mostly off doing her own thing. the bits of explanation she gives at the end about what she was up to on the raft are so sparse and im like damn, can we get a little bit of her pov in here? please? that would have ruled. additionally, shes supposed to be hiros love interest, but we see so little of them interacting outside her intro scenes. a huge portion of why hiro is getting into the sumerian mythology is literally framed as something that will help him understand juanita, but we dont get to see him talk to her about it barely at all.

the supporting characters were quite fun, i particularly liked the librarian. big surprise, i liked the overly literal ai information-dispensor, lmfao. watching him and hiro interact reminded me SO hard of geordi laforge having honest to god conversations with the computer where he tries to coax information out of it, aka one of my favorite little aspects of tng.

and lastly, the major plot themes themselves. i adore the way stephenson approached action, it was very entertaining. usually i cant really visualize action scenes written out, but his use of language was really really effective and engaging. the plot itself was absolutely fascinating, though i found the premise pretty contrived. which isnt bad in itself, i was fully suspending my disbelief until the last hundred pages or so. which for a 550+ page book, isnt too bad.

i did like the approach of linking the ancient to the modern, that is always really neat. and i think ultimately stephenson did it in an interesting way, not how i would have done it, but definitely interesting! creating these ideas about information infrastructures, and there being words that can access those and be used to control people, was wild. not sure if i agree about the equating of religion to a virus, though he did specifically establish that it was more the approach to religion, than religion itself. (maybe if juanita had been more goddamn present in the narrative that could have been elaborated on a little more. literally her perspective would have been perfect in balancing that out!!)

ultimately what did me in was the very very very long winded MONOLOGUE where hiro re-explained the whole premise, in ways that didnt really neatly organize into a cohesive argument. a lot of the scenes where hiro talks to the librarian, which are interspersed throughout the book, are really exposition heavy, because stephenson is rooting his ideas in historical concepts that need to be explained to both hiro and the audience. and i thought all that was fine, because it was a conversation where hiro was grappling with the information, and he was figuring it out along with the reader, and most importantly it was a conversation between him and the librarian computer program.

howeverrr later on we get a full rehash of all that, where hiro makes clear some stuff that was just implied for the reader, and hes literally just telling these important men whats up in this big long monologue. utterly worthless. i kept reading it and going YEAH, we KNOW, we know this we know this. and the important men barely interjected. it added basically nothing to our understanding of the situation, other than reframing it. but everything added was already an implicit thing, and didnt really need to be said again.

the resolution to the book was stellar, the last 30-40 pages, once hiro is onto the raft, were great. ultimately after reading and giving some time to digest it, i think it was a solidly great book with a few big drawbacks near the end, but which dont carry through and sully the ending.

[hopevalley]

The Real Problem with the Love Triangle

Here we are, in Season 8, and I feel like I’ve finally settled on what it is I hate about the love triangle.

I mean, there are a lot of things wrong with it. It divides the fans, it splits the attention of the scenes between two “potential” romances instead of one certain one, and, perhaps one of its biggest offenses: it’s in the spotlight due to the fact that the plotline was given to the main character.

I could talk about all of these, and I could do it all day, but let’s just look at them quickly (because I do feel there’s a bigger issue than any of these at play, here).

It divides the fans. Yikes? They clearly expected some kind of...I don’t know, Twilight-era Team Jacob/Team Edward split, but Twilight’s endgame was always painfully clear. It’s not that fans weren’t disappointed by the reality when it hit, but...I don’t think many people were...genuinely surprised by it, either. Splitting the fans of an already itty-bitty teeny-tiny fandom was maybe not the best idea, but I guess I can see why they took the risk. After so many characters left the show in S5 (Frank, Dottie, Phillip, Shane, Jack) they probably felt they had to do something drastic to keep the fans invested in the show.

It splits the screentime between two potential romances instead of one certain one. This is less yikes in some ways and moreso in others. The biggest issue with this is mostly that When Calls the Heart has limited screentime to begin with, so splitting screentime and therefore also believable development of any romance makes everything take twice as long to happen, which can either bog down the show (if they take the time to do things correctly) or everything will feel rushed (if they skip proper character development).

It’s in the spotlight. Obviously they had to do this to get attention from the fans, but I can’t help but think that a genuine love triangle for a side character/background character might have been a more appealing option story-wise. Having the focus of the triangle be on Elizabeth means that most of the fans are very invested in their choice...which is GREAT up until the point where it’s suddenly not anymore. Writing yourself into a position where approximately half of the fanbase will be disappointed, perhaps even to the loss of their viewership when things don’t go their way (this is always a risk) is...maybe not the best idea. I can’t imagine anyone would quit over a minor love triangle storyline (for example, Bill/Molly/AJ or Fiona/Kevin/Hickam). Sure, you won’t have the level of engagement in the fans that Lucas/Elizabeth/Nathan brings to the table, but I think it could be fun while also not really risking anything. Not many people would stop watching if Fiona picked Hickam over Kevin, you know?

There are other problems with the love triangle and the concept/use of it, but I think the writers at least tried to make it feel balanced. Did they succeed? Well, that’s personal opinion, so I won’t get into that, but you can tell the effort was there from the start.

So we have a love triangle. Lucas and Nathan are both vying for Elizabeth’s affection, and the crux of Season 8 is: she needs to choose one of them.

Which brings me to my thesis statement.

The problem with the love triangle is that the choice is limited to two options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

I think logically as a fan and as a writer who occasionally does enjoy trashy tropes, it’s really no surprise that one of these choices is going to be endgame. What’s annoying—what hurts the love triangle the most—is that they are also the only options presented to the audience. They are the only options Elizabeth and those around her are openly considering.

In reality, there are at least three options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

She chooses nobody/to remain single.

We all know When Calls the Heart is a romantic “period drama” so naturally the writers leaned into writing the romance. And again, we know that one of these men is endgame.

But when you’re writing something like this, a plotline that is most assuredly risking future viewership to some degree, you can’t really forget that Staying Single is equally as good an option as Lucas or Nathan.

It’s made worse with things like time skips. Elizabeth has had plenty of time to make a choice if she wanted to make one. She’s obviously not that attached to either man if she’s just going to leave them hanging like that. I think it could be argued that she’s avoided letting herself get too emotionally intimate with either of them on purpose—because she’s scared to try again after what happened to Jack, she’s afraid of having to feel like that again—but that lends credence to my thesis: if she’s not that emotionally attached, and she’s not ready to actually move forward romantically, then...Staying Single is looking like a great option.

But...not one character in the show has told her that. No one encourages it. Not Rosemary (which I sort of expect), not Bill or Henry or Florence (who all seem likely candidates), not anyone. It’s not like Elizabeth’s still heavily mourning Jack (if so, I could see her friends eagerly encouraging her past that). She seems perfectly content by herself and is seemingly doing a good job of raising her son. She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t act like she wants one.

So why does she have to choose between TWO of them?

What could fix it? Not much at this point. Elizabeth said ages ago that she was ready to move on, or at least try, and that was followed up by all of her friends (Rosemary and Clara specifically) being extremely pushy about how she needed to find romance again. Not once were all of her fears/anxieties seriously discussed and validated.

The best they can do now is have someone close to Elizabeth point out that if she’s not ready to move on, or simply doesn’t want to get involved in a romance again, she doesn’t have to pick anyone (but should be honest with both Lucas and Nathan that she’s not looking for that kind of commitment in her life). It’s also possible that Elizabeth herself could come to this conclusion and speak it aloud to a friend like Rosemary. Just because both men are interested doesn’t mean she has to pick either of them.

I know the fans have been really frustrated at the triangle, specifically how drawn-out it’s been, but I think the reason for that is that Elizabeth’s character has been written in this...really confusing sort of way where...she’s understandably not ready to move on right after her husband has passed away, but even though she’s still in mourning the “potential suitors” get shoved down her throat (and ours) for two full seasons. We (and she, by extension) never get the idea that she could just choose to stay single. The next “logical” step is to choose a man. And that would be fine if she were like Mary Dunbar from the first season, but...she’s the main character. We should see her considering all of her choices.

And like, not to be a fun-killer, but...everything from the past few seasons makes me think she’d just be happier single. That’s the issue, too, with not giving Elizabeth “staying single” as a valid choice: we’re all kind of at a point where we all see how poor her relationship to both suitors is and we’re like, “Hey...maybe neither of them are good options for her at this point in her life.”

Certainly the ensemble-style show lately has contributed to less screentime for Elizabeth and therefore also Lucas/Elizabeth and Nathan/Elizabeth stuff, but I think this could all be fixed if...her choice wasn’t between the two of them, but between choosing to date again vs. choosing not to. She has a career. She has a child. She has a lot of friends. She doesn’t NEED a man, so I want “choosing a man” to feel like...she actually WANTS to date. She WANTS to be romanced. She WANTS physical affection/sex/to be loved and cared for in a romantic fashion.

If I felt that Elizabeth was wholly into the idea of romance and dating and finding someone to live out the rest of her life with, then I might feel good about the love triangle, and about her trying to decide which of two decent men she’d like to allow to court her first.

But because she doesn’t seem eager to court or date, we feel like she never made the decision to move on, and as a result of all of this and the writers trying to keep the love triangle balanced (which unintentionally makes her seem equally DISINTERESTED IN BOTH MEN), her relationships with both Lucas and Nathan feel flat and uninspiring. 

TL;DR? The love triangle should have been presented from the start as Nathan vs. Lucas vs. Staying Single, and then we wouldn’t be in a situation where she’s known these men for two+ years and has been ready to move on for more than one of those years, and still doesn’t feel like she knows either man well enough to choose which of them she might like to court.

If we would have started with three choices, she could have spent all of Season 6 working on eliminating one of the options (staying single, in this case) while also being open to CLOSE friendship with both Lucas and Nathan*. Then, in Season 7, she could find that while it’s flattering to have the attention of two good men, it’s emotionally draining and anxiety-inducing to feel she has to choose between them as she likes them both a great deal and doesn’t want to hurt either of them.

*I think they were sort of trying for this, but it fell flat. It would have been ideal to have Lucas and Nathan confide in Elizabeth about deeply personal/emotional things that never leave those scenes. Fears, concerns, they could have some inside jokes... In order for a love triangle that lasts a long time to work, she has to feel very close to both men...and right now she doesn’t feel close to either of them.

As an aside, the love triangle would definitely feel softer around the edges if it wasn’t pushed from Day 1 as a Thing They Were Doing. Elizabeth forming close friendships with two men without TPTB ever saying anything about romance (let alone a love triangle) would have given the characters time to feel like they’re friends first. What we got was romance shoved down our throat (à la “Elizabeth’s still in mourning because her husband seriously just died BUT ALSO LOOK AT THESE TWO NEW MEN... WHICH WILL SHE CHOOSE WHEN SHE’S READY TO MOVE ON?!”) which put too much pressure on the triangle and the characters/interactions from the get-go. It felt like they jumped from brand-new acquaintances to love interests in the span of five minutes...which is, you know...bad.

[slut-4-beetlejuice]

I would love some BJ fluff where the reader is a super romantic and sweet person (with a cold and sarcastic exterior) and he’s trying to figure out how to ask her out but he’s not gray and romance and gets the deetz and maitlands to help out

(hey, annon? thank you. i love this request!)

“Ah, sweet Satan I want them to punch me in the face”

That was Beetlejuice’s first thought when he first saw you. You we’re Lydias cousin and had recently moved into the Deetz home. They lived closer to the college you we’re attending, and agreed to let you move in for the time being to avoid having to pay for a dorm. You couldn’t lie, you we’re pretty stoked! Lydia had always been like a little sister to you, and the Deetz had welcomed you with opened arms. It was like it had always been your home.

For the first month or so, Beetlejuice was forced to watch you from afar. Lydia refused to introduce you two because God slash Satan forbid, he scare you away. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t into you though. you seemed like one of those tough as nails types. You wore a leather jacket and had a resting bitch face. He once saw you punch a Jehovah’s witness in the face for telling Lydia her mom was in hell. It was awesome.

But, the more he watched you, the more he stared to notice little things. Like how you would watch those sappy romance movies alone in your room and always cry at the ending. How you had one of the most impressive stuffed animal collections he had ever seen, and how valentine’s day was one of your favorite holidays because you “just liked the concept of love”

He realized that he may have had a crush on you. just maybe. But, it was confirmed after he finally got to meet you. you didn’t even flinch. It wasn’t everyday he found someone that could go toe to toe with him in flirting, and it caught him off guard. In a good way.

“hey Sexy. About time we finally got to meet.” He purred. You smirked, “I agree. I cant believe Lydia would keep such a handsome devil from me.” “I’m more than just a devil baby. I’m the ghost with the most.” “oh, are you now? You might have to show me sometime.” You smirked, walking away.

BJ was fucking smitten, and Lydia was regretting her life choices.

As Beetlejuice started to worm his way into your group, he started to notice more of the little things about you. Like the way your eyes lit up the room when you laughed, how infectious your smile was, and how you told a store with your whole body. It was the little things like that that got to him. You could just smile at him the right way and he’d go wild. It he had a heartbeat, it would go wild when you we’re near. Fuck, he was in love. And he had to admit to himself he was in love, and he had to do something about it. He had to ask you out. But there was a problem. How do you ask out a punk with a heart of gold? Which side do you appeal to?

Time to ask the experts.

“Adam, Barbara, I need your help.” Beetlejuice announced as he entered the attic. Adam sighed, “please, please tell me you didn’t put another racoon in the dishwasher.” “what? No, I told you that was a one time thing.” Beej mumbled. “then why did you do it twice?” Barbara questioned. “because the first time was a test run! Look guys, I need you’re help, it’s about y/n.” he pleaded.

Adam looked worried. “Beej, whatever you’re planning leave them out of it. They’re a nice person, and they don’t need to be caught up in some crazy scheme.” Adam said. Beetlejuice shook his head. “no, it’s not like that…it’s..welll..ugh.:” “you love them.” Barbara observed. “no, I don’t want to prank them, I wanna- wait did you just call me out? You knew I liked them?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” he could have been saved from so many sleepless night if she had just told him how he felt before.

Barbara shrug. “you had to figure it out yourself.” “ok, but how did you know he loved them?” Adam questioned. Barbara shrugged, “it’s an intuition thing. It’s the way he looks at them. The way he acts around them, his body language, ya know?” “well, could ya tell me how to ask them out, cause I got no fucking clue.” Beetlejuice sighed. “oh Beej, you’re thinking too hard about it.” Barbara smiled, “Y/N isn’t some enigma, just be straight forward and honest. Tell them how you feel and see if they feel the same way. Y/N is the kind of person that would apricate the honesty.” Adam nodded and agreed. “yea, Y/N wouldn’t like the emotional games. Like, they’re an emotional person, but that’s why they wouldn’t want you to beat around the bush. Then no feeling accidentally get hurt, and you both know where you stand without having to question your sanity.” Adam assured him. “bonus points for a romantic gesture.” Barba pointed at him and agreed. “mm, good point, y/n would like something cute and cheesy.” “cute and cheesy? Like what?” Beetlejuice questioned.

Adams eyes lit up. “stand outside their window with a boom box and play “I wanna know what love is” by foreigner! When they come down to see what all the rucks is, give them a rose and ask them to be yours. Its how I asked out Barbara!” he grinned, happy to give advice. “that’s genius.” BJ laughed, “no it’s not!” Barbara chimed it, “its way too cheesy! This isn’t the 80s or a movie, you can’t just do that. You’d be better off giving them a stuffed animal. You want slight cheesy, not double cheese.” “but its so genius.” “don’t do that Beej, its what’s the words the kids are saying these days? Cringy? Cringy. Its cringy Beej, promise me you won’t do that.” “but-“ “promise.” “fine. I promise I wont do that,” BJ sighed.

 ……………………………………………………………….

You yawned as you changed into your Pjs, ready for bed. It had been a long day, and you we’re ready to just crash out for a week. You went over and opened the second story window, smiling at the cool air. You went over to your bed and curled up under your warm covers. You we’re almost asleep when you heard a familiar song drifting into your room. You could have sworn you heard it before, but what was it?

You got up and went over to your window to figure out what it was, looked out the window and oh my god what was he doing?

Beetlejuice stood outside your window, holding a boom box high above his head as “I wanna know what love is” blasted out to you, and he sang every word with all of his soul. He looked like something out of the 80s, right down to the stiped denim jacket and sunglasses at night. Say what you want, he committed to the bit.

“I WANNA KNOW WHAT LOVE ISSSSS!! I WANT YOU TO SHOW MEEEE!!! I WANNA FEEL WHAT LOVE ISSSSSS!!!! I KNOW YOU CAN SHOW MEEEEEE!!!”

The poor neighbors.

“BJ! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

“SEDUCING YOU!”

“WHAT?!”

“COME DOWN HERE!”

“NO! IT’S COLD OUT THERE!”

“FINE! THEN I’M COMING UP TO YOU!” he yelled up at you. He rested the boom box on his shoulder and started to float up to you. No way this was real. He smiled softly as he saw you. “Y/N, I like you. I like, really really like you. a lot. I might even love you. I think it’s love? I don’t know. I don’t know what love is to be honest. But, I want to. And I want you to show me.” He said sheepishly, producing a dead blackened rose from his pocket and handing it to you. “so…will you be mine?” he asked.

You felt like you had to be dreaming. This was crazy. But you couldn’t help but smile as you took the rose from him. “oh my god BJ!” you laughed, making room for him to enter your room and closing the window. “but, you know, you didn’t have to do all this. If you really wanted to be extra, you could have bought me a stuffed animal or something.” BJ feigned surprise. “See! I tried to tell Barb that, but she insisted this was the way to go!” he said, barely holding back the grin in his lie. You laughed and went and sat next to him on the bed, leaning into him. “I’m so sure” you giggled, leaning into your demon. “so is that a yes?” he asked. “hmm?” “to you being mine? I mean, you let me into your room, and we’re kinda cuddling right now, so, will you go out with me?” you laughed. “I mean, I gueeessss” you teased kissing his cheek. He blushed as pink threaded it’s way through his hair. “awesome.” He laughed.

Who knew asking out the punk with a heart of gold would be so easy?”

 (hey guys! This is my second time writing this, so, lets hope it actually posts this time. Nevertheless, I still had a lot of fun writing it. Fun fact, a Jehovah witness actually told me my dead mom was in hell for not accepting Jehovah once, so writing him getting the punched in the face was so cathartic and self-indulgent. I really like it and I hope you guys too! As always, constructive criticism is always welcomed, and let me know what you think!!)

[dismas-dumbass]

Mom says that a house is like a body. And every house has eyes and bones and skin. A face. This room is like the heart of the house. No, not a heart, a stomach.

-The Haunting of Hill House

Hackett Siblings wanted for some absolutely chaotic drama!

CW: suicide, ptsd, mental trauma, death, substance abuse

henlo, welcome to the ad where i lose my shit cause i’ve lost control of my life. anyway! i have the idea for a rather messed up group of siblings slightly based off the Haunting of Hill House show. The basics are that there’s a large house, there’s a large family, something reaaaallyy rreeaally bad happens to the family when the kids are young that have fucked them up for the rest of their lives, fun stuff like that! obviously the situation is more subtle/personal rather than what goes on in the show [i’ll try to be vague due to spoilers] but i think it’s still something that can be rather creepy~ pretty much 95% of the info presented in this version of the ad is rather flexible and flimsy and i definitely don’t mind working with y’all to make it something amazing!! also, no knowledge of the show is needed whatsoever but just be a tiny bit careful if you do wanna see it/don’t like being spoiled mostly just due to the fact that with the themes that will be in the ad the show will probably be discussed as well!

a loooootttt of the details aren’t set in stone btw! i’m pretty much outlining my thoughts and the general concept but things may/will change and things will be added/subtracted as more people contribute to the idea!

if you have any questions or even if this strikes your fancy you can contact me on discord [mine’s dismas#9766]! if there’s more than one of ya then we can get a group chat going so that way we can see what ideas we all have for this! i can’t wait to write with y’all! <3

Backstory

alright, so the gist is that the Hackett family used to live in a rather big and fancy house. why they were there is up in the air so here’s a few suggestions: A. like the show, their parents were fixing it up. now, whether that means they’re going to sell it right after or live in it is open since both angles are rather interesting! B. they inherited it. from who? who knows! could be a relative that one of the parents knew, could have been random. it’s just a harmless house right? it might be good for the family! C. they just moved there. weird house for a good price? why not! it might be fun! 

whatever the reason, the siblings were in the house for some time. whether they’re natives to Dyrne or outsiders is open since all of the concepts can cover those possibilities easily! there’s no strict timeline yet as to how old they were when they were in that house but more than likely the youngest [twin] siblings were no younger than 6 so make of that what you will with the age ranges~ i would say that they were in that house for about a year or so? technically not too long in their lives but enough to cause lifelong damage?

their parents were good people. they had their flaws obviously and raising literally seven kids was an undertaking but they managed fine enough. mostly through the power of having the older siblings taking care of the younger. but even then they were loving parents. their father was a bit of a mess but well-meaning [think: one of the little siblings learned a swear word from an older one and their father tries to track them down, shouting throughout the house ‘get your ass in here now or else you’re grounded!’] and their mother was more organized yet didn’t hesitate to create a tiny bit of harmless chaos every once in a while. they loved each other, they loved their kids.

now, obviously, there’s the subject of the house itself. what’s the history behind it? that’s definitely left open due to the very reason why they’re there. but there’s probably something wrong with the house. physically? spiritually? mentally? whoever walks those halls won’t exactly be coming back out the same, that’s for sure. And that’s sort of what happened. the official story was that the Hackett family lived in the house for year, doing whatever, and then a fire broke out which caused the death of their mother. the rest of the family was able to escape and the father gave the testimony that it was an electrical fire -when investigated, he was proven innocent of any wrongdoing.

so what’s the actual story? It’s a bit of a mish mash of weird memories, mostly. it’s not really known whether the house is actually alive alive or if its history is just a horrible set of coincidences of bad stuff happening to people. the actual night was a blur to the siblings, all of them being ushered out of the house by their frantic father and herded into the car. when they asked where their mother was their father didn’t answer so they were just left crying after their missing mother. they didn’t even know that there was a fire even though maybe one of them said that they smelled smoke. they didn’t find out until one of the officers at the scene talked about it. for whatever reason, each and every one of them were silent on why they were brought out of the house by their father.

it’s still something they don’t know about.

to be fair, it was almost a partial relief to be out of the house. as i mentioned with the family they were held together well enough and were loving but things started to change when they moved to that house. slowly, surely, they started to encounter strange happenings, feel strange things, and started to view each other differently. what exactly happened to each family member is left open since they mostly don’t speak of their experiences except for the youngest. even their father, who may have experienced quite a lot, was tight-lipped about what happened to him, especially on the night of the fire. the experiences changed them, messed with them, and caused them to splinter and falter and break. after the death of their mother there was obviously quite a few years before everyone split up but they eventually did, going off to do their own things with their own scars hidden beneath their lies. some moved away, some stayed, but they still stayed in touch in some fashion. just not enough to be considered personal anymore.

what brought them all back together was the death of their father not too long ago. The poor man must have been consumed by guilt of some sort and took his own life, leaving his children behind to deal with the aftermath. they still never got any secrets from him nor any answers so all that’s there are feelings of confusion and loss. where the story begins is the revealed news that all the siblings are going to be living under one roof -in that house. the youngest daughter, for whatever reason, decided to purchase their childhood home back and has been in the process of restoring it. the reason why each sibling decides to go along with this is up in the air but the end result is the same: all seven siblings, plus any other family they may have, are now living in that house again.

Siblings

all the siblings except the one i’ll be playing are not set in stone! i’m going for a redheaded family sort of feel so the face claims i’ve put for each of them are something that i prefer but! tbh i’m super flexible and and at the end of the day it’s not a dealbreaker to choose someone else~ since i don’t wanna restrict folk’s fun over a fc choice! overall the sibling's interactions between each other are not that amicable -some may try to cooperate but old wounds come up and oftentimes a fight arises. they still have their weird traditions such as drawing straws if they need to do something and nobody wants to or they all fall silent at the same time [not often, obv., since they're mostly shouting over each other] that cause people on the outside to look at them strangely. at the end of the day, they can't escape the fact that they are siblings and are from the same disturbed family.

beliefs as well are varied and open! none say that they believe their youngest brother whenever he tries to convince them of what happened at the house though whether or not they believe that inside their heads is another matter entirely~

also! don’t feel as though you have to base your characters off any from the show! it’s just a nice start-off point and if you’re inspired but it’s definitely not a requirement whatsoever!

tbh a lot of the siblings aren’t fleshed out a lot & what happened to them in the house is also open so feel free to go wild!! i mean it; you can add as much as you want so that you can create a character that you’ll love to write for!

Eldest Son- 51. Toby Stephens.

being the eldest, he was the one to usually look after the younger children if their parents needed to do something. he built up a sort of protector complex where he has to make sure that he knows where all the other siblings are at all times. he fails constantly, of course, since he can’t even manage to have one of them listen to him. still, he feels responsible for all of his other siblings and takes it personally when he can’t get something done for them. he has his flaws, obviously, in that he tries to say that his way is the right way and can be as stubborn as an ox so despite his best intentions he clashes with some of the other siblings. this may be why none of them tend to listen to him.

Second Son- 50. Tony Curran.

He is one of the quieter siblings, preferring to be by himself when not needed. It isn’t that he dislikes his siblings; he just likes to be alone rather than among them. he’s kind and thoughtful so whenever one of the others needs help he’ll try to be there but besides that don’t count on him being somewhere on his own. Actually, it may be difficult to count on him in general because he loses track of time often and before he knows it he’s two hours late to moving some furniture for someone. this is probably the reason why he tends to be by himself -he doesn’t seem to grasp the passage of time as others have.

Eldest Daughter- 47. Sarah Rafferty.

she’s cruel. not absolutely cruel but cruel enough. she likes to poke and prod her siblings and see what sets them off. she thinks it’s funny and likes to observe the aftermath of her machinations. she likes to claim that she’s just bored but in reality she’s absolutely insecure herself and wants to bring others down to feel better about herself. don’t tell this to her face because she will absolutely try to turn it back on you and make you out to be the bad guy while she is the victim. also, don’t try to get revenge -she’ll just be more inclined to do something worse to you.

Second Daughter- 46. Amy Adams.

she’s neutral towards, well, everything. she kind of just exists and she doesn’t like that. not a lot of passion, not a lot of purpose. maybe she tries something daring once in a while to feel something but comes up short. it’s difficult for her to emotionally connect with others in a deep way and oftentimes she finds herself alone. she doesn’t like being alone, though, since being alone means she’ll be alone with her thoughts and she hates that. If she can even feel that properly, anyway. she’s not emotionless in the sense that she is sociopathic but her difficulty feeling things has caused her to have a sarcastic and thorny exterior towards anyone she meets, fueling her involuntary self-isolation.

Third Daughter- 43. Jessica Chastain. Reserved for spooky spice

she's the face of the family. the most energetic. the most chaotic. the one to threaten to break someone's kneecaps if they dare harm her siblings. she'll give a show-stopping smile and then tell you to eat shit afterwards. due to the minimal age difference she always had to watch the twins and therefore she is close to them, especially Thomas. some joke that she's actually Thomas' twin -she can sort of just sense whenever the youngest Hackett is in trouble. she's not happy about anything seeming messy, of course, so she spares no second to chastise anyone [including Thomas] about what they have done wrong. her status among stardom cannot afford any blemishes so catch her changing the subject whenever an interviewer brings up the fact that her younger brother is a drug addict. trust her, she knows. she knows all too well. and maybe her motivation for buying up the Hackett siblings' childhood house was to try to get Thomas some actual help after he failed out of rehab for the umpteenth time. their father's suicide may have just reinforced her decision to go forward with this.

Twin One- 42. Michael Fassbender.

maybe he’s one of the most normal. maybe’s he’s the most normal. maybe he has to be -his twin is an absolute trainwreck of a human being and his family is an equal amount of mess. maybe he’s just good at saving face and hiding the damage caused by the house [and maybe by his siblings]. some days, he sort of forgets that he’s a twin and that said twin is a drug addict. when they were young they were close though he would often play kind of cruel tricks on his younger twin such as locking the door to the basement after daring Thomas to go down the stairs, leaving him in a room alone with the lights off, and things like that. he grew out of it, matured, and tries to ignore the fact that he may or may not have been part of the reason why Thomas is the way he is now. he's too focused on being a professor at the college to fully see the cries of help his younger twin is showing.

Twin Two Thomas Hackett- 42. Michael Fassbender. Taken by Dismas.

so you’re asking me if i have a problem. i probably do. the youngest of the Hackett family; he’s probably one of the most heavily affected by the events at the house. for those familiar with the show think a combination of inspiration between Luke and Eleanor Crain, but also with even more issues maybe as well as none of the siblings being on his side whatsoever on anything. he had quite a few strange encounters ranging anywhere from encountering something in the basement when he was locked in one time by his twin to being trapped in a room with so much noise that he passed out for hours. now, figure, he’s a young kid when all of this happened [probably around 6 or so, could be a tiny bit older] so he doesn’t know how to deal with any of this. this really fucks him up. on top of that, whenever he told his family, none of them ever believed, further fueling the feeling of being unwanted. he was probably the closest one to their mother, being the youngest and the most vulnerable of the children, so he was absolutely devastated when she perished in the fire that fateful night. he blamed his father, thinking that he did something to her and tried to hide it with said fire. he never stopped believing in that, nor in the experiences he had in the house, and it pretty much ate at his soul. not only that but nobody still believed him so he always felt useless. he developed a bitter and angry attitude to try to hide this but the wounds were never able to be covered for long and so he eventually turned to drugs to soothe his pain. obviously, it never fully did so he just fell deeper into the rabbit hole. he dropped out of high school and started to do all sorts of jobs and favors in order to get his next fix, oftentimes winding up being arrested for petty crimes. he earned a bad reputation around town and the only reason why he didn’t face too much jail time is due to one of his siblings always bailing him out. wash, rinse, and repeat.

nowadays he goes between being sort of okay and having his own place to being absolutely drugged out of his mind and having to crash at a sibling’s place if they’re local -mostly his twin or the youngest daughter of the family. he’s failed out of rehab recently which may have been one of the reasons why the youngest daughter decided to purchase and fix up their childhood home; so that he can have a stable over his head for once and maybe recover from his habits. little does she know, or maybe care, that the house was the reason for his down spiral in the first place so he is not thrilled whatsoever to be stuck in the same building with all the same people who did not believe him. he hates it here.

Other Ideas

this is pretty much going to be only the possible family of the siblings woops but with the house being rather large there’s a ton of room for more than just the siblings themselves and more than likely some of the other siblings are going to be in some sort of relationship unlike Thomas. now, of course, maybe not all of the spouses/partners/children live in the house after all but then again they might! i have a few small ideas:

the loyal partner- this partner is loyal to the sibling they’re married to/with, always making sure they’re alright and making sure the sibling is well taken care of. maybe even spoil/indulge a little too much the whims of the sibling. they may seem a little more oblivious to the chaotic dynamics of the siblings and the strangeness of the house. they just think that everyone needs to get along and everything will be okay! except it’s never that easy and they probably just look foolish for suggesting that.

the angry partner- they hate it in the house. all the fighting and the tension and the drama; they think it’s a bunch of bullshit. they especially think all the spooky~ stuff that apparently happened in the house is all bullshit too and won’t hesitate to call anyone out if the supernatural is even entertained. they just want to live their life in relative peace with the sibling they’re with 

the mediator partner- they may not necessarily believe in the unbelievable -in fact, their career hinges on finding out why people process stuff the way they do [ex. a therapist or psychologist]- but they still try to see all angles. they’re typically the one trying to quell the arguments between siblings and trying to see why the siblings feel the way they do about things (and about each other). they’re curious, however, about the house itself and may start poking around in the wrong places to try to discover the truth.

[one tiny suggestion! perhaps the mediator partner is married to Thomas’ twin brother and they have a kid with the face claim of Reece King? ;^; he has slightly similar facial features to Michael Fassbender + i think it’d be sweet if the partner tries to see why Thomas is fucked up the way he is and maybe even begins to sympathize/believe him after they start to figure stuff out?]

Plots

alright! so the obvious plots are going to be the interactions between siblings~ their personalities may give a hint to who they do or don’t get along with but in all honesty they all have bad enough blood with each other to have issues one way or another. so! drama! one of those ‘if you leave them in a room for long enough they’ll find something to fight about’ type of things! they do love each other -really, they do- but their experiences in the house changed them forever and there’s no gaining that back. they can only move forward.

they’re already living in the house for a short period of time [maaaybbe a month? a few weeks?] so they’re all settled in and dealing with the presence of each other and it’s not going exactly swimmingly for obvious reasons. maybe some try to cooperate with each other? others not so much. there’s plenty of fighting and slamming doors and shouting and leaving the area/the house to cool off. on more than one occasion Thomas has already stated that he’s leaving for good and going out on his own. he never follows through with the threat -he can’t. he’s as tied to the house as everyone else is and now he can’t escape. but you get the gist. it’s going to take a while for them to see eye to eye with each other. if they ever do, anyway.

future plots to explore are, of course, up in the air but they can deal with the siblings learning more about each other, learning more about their parents, and learning more about the house. and, of course, learning more about their town as well! Whether things start to get better or if they down spiral even further is going to be rather interesting to see~

for initial threads it could be fun [in a morbid sense] to do a past one where they’re attending their father’s funeral since that was kind of actually a shitshow. imagine all the siblings, with their awful traits, having to deal with the death of their parent and just in terrible pain. so, what else to do than to cause issues with each other and create quite a few commotions? obv. when the sibling’s personalities are solidified we can discuss this further! overall the first types of posts will be their interactions with the site plots, the town itself, and between them when they’re at the house so there’s plenty of room for drama!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Uh-oh, I'm back on my self-indulgence

—-

Psst: it’s ready!

AO3 || Tumblr

Anybody want a feel-good one-shot Malevolent fic involving thought-provoking movies, surprise visits, brutal murder, and Arthur being REALLY clever?

I need to read it over again, but I think it'll be ready to post tonight.

Have a snippet.

Full story coming tonight!

--------

The movie is called Dancing Lady, and Arthur already knows nothing will ever be made like it again once the Hays Code has its way.

It’s a ridiculous love triangle, a “tarnished” woman (a concept Arthur finds absurd) torn between a rich sponsor and a poor lover, both of whom, at least, see her talent for what it is.

There are some scenes in this one. At one point, Clark Gable massages Joan Crawford’s leg, raising it above his shoulder, only hinting at the things that must surely be on display from Gable’s point of view.

Yowza.

It’s hard not to imagine Joan Crawford making the kinds of faces John describes, and Arthur can’t help a little bit of distracting response.

He focuses on his popcorn instead of anything else prone to explode.

“Those guys are a lot of silk hats and silk socks with nothing between,” says Clark Gable on screen, and Arthur laughs.

John huffs. Why are they being so particular about this?  

“Particular about what?” says Arthur.

Tod, Patch, Janie. Why the fuck doesn’t she just lie with both of them? Why do they give a fuck?

Arthur is completely taken aback. “Well, it… I mean… she can’t do that.”

Why not?

Arthur has never in his life considered this question.

It’s about offspring, John decides.

“Ah… no, it’s not really - “

They demand monogamy so there can be no question of inheritance.

“She’s a dancing girl. She has nothing to inherit.”

Sure, but Tod does.

“Yes, but… that isn’t it, John.”

Then what is?

Arthur’s really not sure how to answer. What’s he going to say? That it isn’t the Christian thing to do? “I… it just isn’t done that way. Generally.”

Though in his musician days, he witnessed some truly unique romantic configurations.

It’s a lot to think about.

Stupid, pronounces John with fiendish delight, and continues to tell Arthur everything that’s happening on screen even though Arthur does not reply.

#

In February, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Arthur sighs. “John. I’ve been fucking stabbed.”

Only a little, says John. The three stitches are fine. You’re fine.

He is fine, honestly. It wasn’t that bad, and in the end, they took out the giant bug-thing that poked him.

He’s pretty sure he isn’t poisoned. Maybe that alone deserves celebration.

Arthur sighs. “Well. I suppose an evening of distraction isn’t such a terrible idea.”

Of course it’s not a terrible idea. It’s mine.

Arthur rolls his useless eyes, but can’t help a little smile. 

#

This movie, though. This movie hits a little different.

Death Takes a Holiday is about Death himself, who is tired of being misunderstood, and decides to go slumming among humans for a few days to see if he can figure out why.

And he falls in love. 

With a human.

Which can’t end well for that poor lady.

Arthur forgets his popcorn.

The drama is absolutely contrived and thoroughly effective.The struggles of the inhuman to understand the human - 

The choice of the human to understand the strange -

“And tonight, I must go back to my distant kingdom,” says Fredric March, whose portrayal of Death is passionate, quiet-spoken, and rife with tortured drama.

“Will you take me with you?” says Evelyn Venable, who plays Grazia, the love interest, and whose name means grace.

“Take you?” says Death, who is pretending to be something he is not, who is carrying on a wild con with the goal of… enlightenment? “Take you? I should be so unhappy alone. Take you? Oh, no, no… don’t tempt me. But Grazia, give me one hour of you - let me hold you once, and feel your life.”

Holy shit, Arthur thinks, because he’s pretty sure he knows how Grazia feels.

Sort of. He’s no damsel, and whatever he and John are isn’t romantic, but still?

“Now you see me as I am,” says Death, at last revealed as shadow, as monster, as darkly divine.

“But I've always seen you like that! You haven't changed,” says Grazia.

She chooses him, knowing what he is.

She chooses him, knowing what it will cost.

The music swells, and Arthur finds himself tearing up. “Then there is a love which casts out fear, and I have found it! And love is greater than illusion… and as strong as death!”

John cheers. She goes with him! She went with him! Yes, Arthur!

Does John see the parallels, too?

Arthur isn’t brave enough to ask.

He wipes his eyes, amazed, moved. Almost envious of that stupid made-up girl.

Yeah. This one hit different. 

He can’t help wondering, silly as it is, if this movie was based on something that really happened.

Death and Grazia, reaching across the gap.

It’s not him and John.

But then, who can say just what they are?

[clowndaydreams]

Yan!Marvus x Reader

I hope you all like it!

“Can you pass me the potato chips?” You looked over to your companion. Marvus nodded and reached over to get said bag from his side of the couch.

“here ya go.” You grunted a quick thank you to the clown and started to dig in. You had been hanging out with Marvus all day. You still couldn’t believe how friendly you’ve gotten with the superstar since you met him at that concert you went to. It had been a few perigrees since then, but the clown had since made a habit of inviting you over randomly when he was free. You were just happy that he remembered you at all.

Currently though, you were both relaxing on the couch and watching some Slam or Get Culled episodes that he was in. Right now, a season finale was playing. He was the final challenge for that season’s top 2. They had to rap battle him and whoever fared better was the winner.  You glanced over at him. He was in his usual facepaint, but was casually wearing a neon yellow ripped tank top and matching pajama pants with some designer troll logo and ‘JUICY’ all over them. How he managed to look so hot in that would forever elude you. You snapped out of it when he started speaking again.

“u kno, i thought ricard was the better 1 outta those 2.” You pretended to glare at him.

“SPOILERS!” You jokingly huffed, lightly shoving his arm. It didn’t move, as you’d expect.

“LOL! XoD sorry fam, seen dis crap 1000 times alreddy.” Wait, then why did he let you pick this episode? Or even agree to watch this with you? If this was boring you could do something else. And as if he could read your mind, he held up a hand.

“dun worry bout dis. is chill or w/e. butt srsly, u kno who gunna win.”

“Still! I wanna watch it!” You giggled. You both watched on in silence as Marvus was brought on to surprise the contestants.

“How were they behind the scenes?” You asked as you watched the confessionals for both of the contestants.

“ricards moirail b a clown, so me n him knew each other alreddy. he wuz p chill i guess lol.”

“What about Krayaa?”

“turns out she wuz a fangirl. foamin at the mouth n erythng.”

“Really?!” You turned to him to try and see if he was lying. He looked almost bored about it all. Like you were both talking about the weather or something. You wished you could be so relaxed about meeting a rabid fangirl and somehow living to tell the tale. Seadwellers were supposed to be stronger and more durable than landdwellers. At least, that was according Polypa anyway. Huh, you had to remember to check on her later after you got home too.

“ye. she wanted 2 pail after the shoot.” Your jaw dropped. Krayaa was a seadweller! Did he have to listen to her? She could have killed him for not listening!

“Nahhh, no worries,, the contract she signed for the ep woulda had her disqualified and mah bodyguards woulda whooped her b4 she had a chance. ;op” He chuckled. “If she managed 2 get thru them, I aint no wimp.” He added, flexing his arms a little to prove his point. You almost couldn’t stop staring. He had to know what he was doing to you…right? Granted, this was a crush you had no intention of pursuing. If you were speaking honestly, Marvus was a guy who probably didn’t want commitment due to his lifestyle. Even then, he had people throwing themselves at him constantly. People his own species. People who were a lot better fitting with his general aesthetic and not some poor wandering alien that he would DM when he was high when they both should have been sleeping. Your own concepts of relationships and types of love were different. But you could dream, right? You were content with just having him as your designated hot friend anyway. …That did mean you were allowed to drool over him in your mind. As long as it doesn’t get creepy to him. Yeah. You were fine.

“u gud (Y/N)? u tryna lure snacks into ur mouth or smth?” You snapped out of your stupor.

“Ew! Gross! I don’t eat bugs like you weirdos!”

“it aint gross. literally free snacks u can catch. :o)” He laughed.

“Where I’m from they’re gross!” Granted, there were places that did eat crickets and the like on Earth, but you would never tell him that.

“dun knock it till ya try it.” He got up and left the room, returning after a moment with a small box.

“…What is that.” You had a sinking feeling you knew what it was.

“chirp grubs.” He opened it and there they were. Disgusting caramelized crickets.

“I can’t.” You shook your head.

“more 4 me lol.” You looked away as he ate a few of the crickets. You looked back at him when his palmhusk rang. It sounded like a clown horn version of one of his songs. Fitting, honestly.

He glanced at it and rolled his eyes before silencing the phone.

“Who was that?”

“thottie.”

“Oh…” He looked bored again. Not good. What could you talk to him about to keep him interested?

“Uh…You ever get tired of the fans trying to aggressively pail you?” Ok, that wasn’t the best choice for conversation. Your bad.

“i meannn….in the beginning yeah. now its kinda the norm 4 me ufeelme?”

“Yeah, I guess. Does it ever make you feel like you can’t have a relation-er, quadrant?” You assumed it would, but that would also come with fame in general, wouldn’t it? You weren’t sure. Then again, if he didn’t want-

“kinda. i think its kinda funny how i can attract psychos, fans and thots, but not my crushes.” You sat up straight. Marvus had a crush?

“Wait. You…uh…are pale or um….red? for somebody?” You didn’t have the best grasp on quadrant terms.

“lol sumtimes i forget your an alien.” He leaned back onto the couch.

“butt yeah, i have a few crushes at the mo.” He smiled, staring at the ceiling.  Few. He has more than one crush right now. That soft smile said it all. He had it bad.

“…Can you tell me who they are?” He looked over at you and looked sheepish.

“i…dun think is a gud idea.”

“Please? I have to know who the great Marvus Xoloto has a crush on.”

“u kno 1. itll be awk af :o(“ Now you had to know. Now you were thinking about whether or not Marvus had a type. What if they were all mega hot models? Wait! Did he have a crush on Chahut? They would totally have to know each other. Who else did you both know??? He heard of Cirava, but you didn’t think they talked. Who???

“…kk fine. only if u slam a faygo tho.” You gave him a look.

“Isn’t Faygo…not for non-clowns?”

“is just us. whos gunna kno?”

“You promise nobody’s gonna know?”

“on my life. u slam a faygo, n ill tell u who my flush be.” You thought it over. You remembered tasting the stuff at clown church when you went you went with Chahut that one time. Just a sip left you a bit tipsy. A whole bottle may have rendered you unable to be coherent enough to even process who his flush crush was. Would it be worth it? You felt a choice coming on. Either way you had to drink a certain amount in order to maybe try and learn this random troll’s identity. The question was, do you try and counter his offer or just slam the entire bottle and hope for the best?

…

It would be better to respect your own limits. A bunch of your friends had lectured you a few times over putting yourself out just to potentially make a friend. This would piss them off and would probably not end in your favor even if you did decide to just go with it anyway.

“How much faygo do I have to drink?”

“hm…” He got up, went to the kitchen and got a small can of Grape Faygo, a normal bottle for one and a whole 2 liter bottle. “imma b nice. u get a choice. u gotta try 2 finish the can. u get 1 q with the name if u finish the can. Smol bottle gets u 2 qs and the name n the 2L gets u as many qs as u liek. fair enough 2 u?”

…Now you wanted to chug the 2 liter. You haven’t even seen anyone try to down that other than the Grand High Blood once when you took Karako to clown church for the first time. But that guy was a clown and he is HUGE. You, not so much. But, you chose to respect yourself for once. You’d see how you felt after the small can and go from there. You picked it up, opened the can and took a deep breathe. Powers that be, let this not wreck you and let this answer be worth it. If he cops out with his answers, you would try to hurt him. You started chugging. You did your best to try and treat it like a shot like Cirava taught you so you wouldn’t taste the overly sweet flavor too much. After a moment of light agony and attempting to not drown in the soda, you reached the end of the can. You slammed it onto the coffee table and started panting. Ok, you weren’t feeling woozy like before. Maybe those tiny sips when you went to clown church helped your body get used to it.

“u gunna try the otha bottles?” You managed to shake your head. You weren’t gonna do that again. Your head started hurting. You looked over at him. Were his eyes always so vibrantly purple? Woah, now they’re flashing purple. What the heck? Was this Faygo high? You now understood why all the other clowns were so goofy after drinking a cup of this stuff. Crap, now your head was starting to hurt.

“Wh-Who….who is it..?” You started feeling like you were gonna pass out. You laid down on the couch. You needed to close your eyes. That was way too much for you. You felt Marvus pick you up into his arms.

“ye…after u wake up bb.” Wake up? Wait, did he just call you a pet name?! You were about to question him when he tilted his head.

“dangg,, u managed 2 stay awake with chuckles and faygo? ur stronger than i thought. Soz bout this babes.” His eyes became blindingly vibrant again and you blacked out.

[wereallsaloonaticshere]

I love having characters discuss media they like / characterization-through-fandom so maybe have A Boy of choice discuss their favorite movie and everyone else reacts?

Okay so this isn’t very good, but I guess I like how I wrote Eduardo. Basically teenage Eduardo, Jon and Mark lowkey larp as their old west ancestors, Eduardo Juan and Marco, while waiting at a park for Edd Tom and Matt to come larping as their respective ancestors, Edward Thompson and Matthew.

Critique is welcomed but idk why you’d wanna do that with this piece lmao.

Word count: roughly 1,400. 

~

“Barbie and the Diamond Castle,” Juan said, biting into his very authentically old west McDonald’s Mcdouble. 

Eduardo’s laughs quickly turned to wheezing coughs. “God, Jon, what’re you, my niece?” 

“Who?” Juan looked at him expectedly.

“Fine, Juan.” Eduardo said, “why’d you choose the most feminine movie out there? Not enough reasons to not have sex with you yet?”

“I just really like it, okay?” Juan said, “the animation’s really cute, the songs are nice, and I watched it at least once a month until I was seven.” 

“Jesus you’re gayer than me.” Marco said.

“Haha, I think my parents are still waiting for me to come out,” Juan laughed.

“What’s your favorite scene from the movie?”

“I’m sorry are we seriously talking about fucking Barbie movies now?” Eduardo said, “this is supposed to be a stake out.”

“We had to listen to you play Mindless Self Indulgence the entire car ride here, so shut your mouth.” 

“What are you talking about? I had my earbuds in.”

“You were blasting it.”

“Oh, that’s why your mother kept looking at me weird through the front view mirror.” Eduardo said, “that sucks.”

“It’s okay, I think she’s come to terms with the fact that I’m friends with exclusively delinquents.”

“Hey!” 

“Just kidding, just kidding.”

“That’s mean, Mark. O. M-Marco.”

“Hypocrite.” Eduardo said.

“Anyways,” Marco rolled his eyes, “what about Barbie and her castle and your obsession with them both?”

“I don’t like it anymore! Just when I was a kid,” Juan said. “And it wasn’t her castle, they were actually really poor, they just had to travel to the castle to save a girl trapped in a mirror and the concept of music.” 

“...Huh?” Eduardo said.

“I don’t remember the plot very well, but I think that’s about it.”

“Huh. Sounds like something my niece would actually like.” Eduardo said, “they wear dresses in those movies, right?”

“Yeah of course, it’s Disney.”

“Can you text me a picture of the main girl? I’ll draw her in the dress and give it to her on her birthday.” 

“Aw, how sweet! Sure.” Juan, the infamous old west bandit, got out his phone and texted Eduardo the main girls.

“When are Edd, Tom and Matt supposed to come, anyways?” Marco asked, “my mom’s picking us up in a couple of hours.”

“Shut up Mark, they’ll be here,” Eduardo said, looking out across the grass and duck pond. 

“How do you know?” Juan asked, collecting the group's trash to throw away. “You said Edd has bad handwriting, maybe you read it wrong.”

“I didn’t read it wrong! Trust me, they’ll be here. They’re fuckin’ nerds and their ancestors were these cool action hero guys, of course they’ll wanna larp as them!”

“I thought you said they weren’t cool at all?” Juan asked, “and that their ancestors were gay or something?” 

“Of course they’re not actually cool!” Eduardo said, “but they sure thought they were, so I’m just explaining their train of thought.”

“Couldn’t we just larp as our ancestors?” Juan asked, “it would be fun, and a lot less stressful.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing?” Marco asked, tugging at his cheap brown bandanna Juan had found at Walmart the day before.

“I mean, I guess, but it’s not really authentic if we keep talking about Barbie and cars.”

“Then stop talking about fucking Barbie, problem solved,” Eduardo said. “Now make use of that second pair of binoculars, I think I see their car.” 

“Fine.”

“...I wonder if Marco was gay.” Marco said, watching the ducks sleep.

“What d'ya mean?” Eduardo asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Obviously I know there were quite a few gay people in the old west, it’s just funny to think about. How different of a life he would’ve led.”

“I found a photo of him kissing a guy on google.” Juan said, getting out his phone to find it again.

“Really?” Eduardo turned to face him, the car having driven past the parking lot. “How?”

“I remember hearing Edd talk about how that detective’s diary was really gay and thought about if that made Marco’s ancestor gay, to.” 

“Well not everyone in my ancestral line was gay, you know.”

“Yeah but the detective looked a lot like Edd, and Marco looked a lot like you, so I figured it only made sense to check. Here.” Juan handed Marco his phone. “It doesn’t say who the guy is.”

“Wait, so are you saying you think Edd’s gay?” Eduardo lit up and put his fingers together like a pyramid, “oh that’s interesting.” 

“What, are you planning on outing him to the school or something?” Marco asked. 

“No, of course not!” Eduardo said, “I just think it’d be something to bring up.”

“What does that even mean?” 

“Come on, he’s bullied you for being gay before!”

“That was a year ago, and that doesn’t mean he deserves the same treatment!”

“Mark-”

“Marco.”

“-Mark,” he glared at Juan, “just drop it, okay? If they don’t show up we won’t be able to catch them being idiots, so we’ll have to find some other way to do it!”

“Why do we need to? Have you ever considered that maybe if you stopped picking fights with them they’d leave us alone?” 

“Me?! They’re the ones that pick fights with us!” Eduardo slammed his fist down on the table, making the old wood wobble, “don’t you remember when we were in English and they told the teachers we were the ones that started that knife fight, when really it was them? Or when they were throwing knives at each other, and then stashed them in my locker when they heard a teacher coming? Or when that girl got stabbed-”

“Look, I get it, they suck, but at some point we become just as bad as them.” Marco reasoned. 

“...”

An alarm went off in Marco’s pocket.

“Hey, it’s almost 7. We should be packing up.” 

Eduardo sighed, “...fine.”

Juan threw away their trash as they were walking back to the parking lot. Marco took his bandanna off and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Are you able to eat dinner at my place?” Mark asked.

“You sure your parents would want me over again?”

“What are you talking about? Of course. Why not?”

“I don’t know, I just got the impression I annoyed them last time.”

“You didn’t. So, can you come?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think to ask my parents.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yeah sure.” Eduardo got out his phone and texted his mom. 

“I won’t be able to come, my grandma’s over and dad’s making stew.” Juan said.

“Oh, nice.”

“Yeah, it is.”

The ducks walked out of their way as they passed.

 {i really am just writing the most boring shit rn, huh? I mean i guess its realistic.}

 “Okay I can go, she said to be home by 10.” Eduardo put his phone away.

“Excellent.”

“Your dad isn’t gonna gril me about colleges again, is he?”

“Hey, if I have to deal with it then so do you.” Mark smirked. 

“It’s just annoying to hear him talk about all these engineering colleges.” He rolled his eyes, “as if I want to drive myself insane with those classes.”

“He’s only doing it because he wants you to have a nice job.”

“...I can have a nice job as a painter too.” Eduardo said, but the bite was gone.

 {my moms getting mcdonalds i cant wait im so hungry its literally 10pm} {its 1230 now and btw i loved it}

 “It’s your choice.”

“Have you decided what college you want to attend yet, Marco-Mark?” Jon asked.

Eduardo chuckled.

“I’m not sure yet. I might become an english teacher, or a librarian.”

“Huh. Nice.” Jon said. “I kinda wanna be a photographer, but I know there isn’t a lot of 

{and then I gave up}

[halfblood-fiend]

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 3

Chess/”Board” Games

Show: Voyager

Words: 1,841

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): shenanigans

Dungeons and Bandwagons

When Giana attempts to organize her first D&D campaign onboard the Voyager, it turns out to be a bit more complicated than she thought.

Read it on AO3

We’d been going around and around for most of our lunch break. I did not think that introducing twenty-third century people to D&D would be so difficult.

After another explanation, Harry Kim stared at me with his hands folded beneath his chin for too long a while. “I don’t get it,” he said finally, picking his fork back up to resume playing with his food. “How is that supposed to be better than a holodeck program?”

“Uhhh… it’s interactive and adaptable?”” I offered. “Your DM makes the story up for you as you go.”

“An adept programmer could make the holodeck function in the same manner,” Vorik chimed in from my right. I had to keep from rolling my eyes.

 “Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

He shrugged without looking at me. “I am on the side of logic.”

I ignored this, shaking my head and insisted to Harry, “There are scenarios you just can’t plan for.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like…”

God. Like deciding to bang the first NPC you meet. Why? Eh, just ‘cause. Like deciding as a group to put on a spur-of-the-moment chili cook off to grant the deed to the town’s tavern to the winner because, obviously a chilli cook-off is the most fair way to make decisions. Or like deciding to betray your entire party for your character’s freedom, and then betraying those new allies and running off alone. Or like solving every kidnapping or murder problem by rolling the unwanted body up in a rug, and then lying to so many people about your rug selling business that your party all decide to petition the city for an actual business license, thus derailing the campaign for weeks as you all turn in your paperwork and get in touch with a real estate agent within the fantasy city in order to find a place to house your Totally-Not-Fake Rug and Carpeting Business.

But how to explain all that?

“Man… you just gotta trust me,” I sighed. “There are way too many variables to be able to make a program that will adapt to all of them. You have no way of knowing what could happen during a D&D campaign. Trust me.”

“Eh, I’m down to try,” Lyssa Campbell said. When Harry gave her a doubtful look, she shrugged. “Hey, it’s gotta be better than that poker everyone is always playing. And as long as we’re all relaxing and talking and having fun, then it sounds like it’ll be just fine.”

“Sounds like a rip off of my Grendel program,” Harry muttered. “And not even as interesting because we aren’t fighting holographic monsters. We’re just—what? —imagining everything happening?”

“Aha! I got it,” I said with a snap of my fingers, cutting off whatever he was talking about. “Dice!”

Harry raised his eyebrows and Vorik said, “Explain.”

“You can’t roll dice on the holodeck.”

“So?”

“So! Rolling the dice to try and see how well you do things is the best part!”

“If you’re telling me that’s the best part of this game, I’m really doubting how much “fun” you claim it to be.”

“Aww, come on, Harry! Let’s just try it!”

He shook his head again, but a smile started pulling at his lips. “Fine, but I’m not going to have fun and I will complain the whole time.”

“Doubt that,” I replied with a wink. “But I’ll take it for now.”

“Giana! If you can spare a moment, I have an inquiry regarding your role-playing game.”

Similar sentiments had been asked of me by most of my friends and future players, but Vorik was the last person that I had expected to have any trouble with character building. Yet here Vorik was, appearing at my shoulder before I could enter the turbolift to leave Engineering.

“An inquiry? Now is that more or less important than a plain question?”

He gave me a puzzled look as we entered the lift together and I smiled.

“Nevermind. Shoot.”

“What?”

“Ask me the question. Deck two.”

The turbolift slid into motion and Vorik began, “I was looking over the documents you sent those of us who required characters for your Dungeons and Dragons—”

I smiled at his use of the name but nodded.

“—and I noticed that ‘Human’ is among the other more fantastical races that one can play. It gave me an idea that I wished to discuss with you.”

“Oh, yeah… I mean, I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s just an old Human-made game, remember? Don’t take it too seriously. I, like, literally never actually played a Human before. That would just be like playing myself and, sure, you always kinda do that but who wants to be so obvious about it?”

Vorik blinked. “I would.”

It was my turn to ask, “What?”

“If Humans can exist in this world, then I would like to role-play as a Vulcan.”

I chewed my lip, my heart sinking because I felt like Vorik was missing the point. Here I thought he was going to do something interesting when he asked to join the party. I was excited to see what he would come up with. But, then again, it wasn’t like he role-played very much when we played Skyrim together on the holodeck either. His inflexible and aloof attitude usually confused all the Nords until I stepped in to use the “proper” language. Made him useless at price haggling.

Since he wanted to play at all, I conceded to myself, that had to be close enough. I didn’t want to totally control his play. I never liked it when my DMs had done that in the past.

He a little confused, but he got the spirit.

“Okay,” I relented, “I’ll see what I can do about homebrewing a ‘Vulcan’ stat-block for you, just…promise me one thing?”

My Vulcan companion quirked an eyebrow at me. “Yes?”

The turbolift stopped and opened its doors. I could hear the sounds of soft chatter and laughter coming from the mess hall. Whatever Neelix was cooking wafted up the corridor and smelled really promising. My stomach grumbled in response.

“Just don’t play yourself,” I said as we both stepped off the lift and the doors slid closed behind us. “If you show up with a character named ‘Vorik,’ I’m going to kick you from the game. And then, literally kick you in the shins.”

“An extreme reaction, don’t you think?”

I put up my fists as if I was gonna fight him. “Oh, I can get more extreme.”

Looking at my poor guard dubiously, he said dryly, “I’m sure. Your Human penchant for hysterics?”

“Hysterics?! Oh! Well how about your high drama, mister??”

“I do not know to what you could be referring.”

The line at Neelix’s kitchen counter was somewhat long, which gave Vorik and I plenty of time to debate the “logic” of Vulcan fashion choices back and forth. I insisted they were dramatic for no reason and Vorik tried to act like real thought went into all the high collars and zig-zagged diagonal clasps. Neelix’s pasta dish actually did look as promising as it smelled, which was a nice surprise.

“Ah, Miss Giana, I almost forgot,” Neelix gasped as I turned away, drawing me back. “Ensigns Swinn and Jurot wanted to ask you about—ah—something called a ‘character sheet’?”

I thanked him with a smile and motioned for Vorik to help me pick them out of the crowded hall at dinner hour.

The day had come to start our campaign and not a moment too soon. I was excited as all hell. I’d hardly slept at all the night before, choosing instead to expand some NPC backstories and prepare a few more monsters. Just in case.

All of my players’ character sheets were checked and filed on my PADD for reference. I couldn’t help but laugh when Vorik sent me his and I saw the name at the top of the sheet. He had listened to me and wasn’t playing himself…but I was very curious to see how Surak the monk was going to handle my adventure. I was pretty pleased with everyone’s character concepts, actually. I had a pretty balanced group.

I’d decided some time ago that a grand total of six players was all that I could conceivably handle. But that hadn’t stopped everyone else from trying to ask for a spot. Dozens of requests had flooded my inbox from all corners of the ship (Neelix’s doing, I assumed) and I had spent a good chunk of time yesterday writing personal “sorry, maybe next times.”

Even Chakotay had sent me a note! Not to, like, join or anything, but still! He mentioned that he was familiar with the old game and wanted to tell me that he thought it would be good for morale and crew unity and other things commanders cared about.

I practically sprinted away the second my shift was over, bolting to the door before Lieutenant Carey had even said goodbye.

I was the last player on duty, and my group’s attitude towards D&D had changed dramatically once they’d built their characters. They all made me promise not to keep them waiting for too long.

And speak of the devil.

The communicator badge on my chest chirped before I’d made it halfway down the corridor. Harry’s voice crackled over the comm.

“Uhhh…Giana?”

I tapped the badge to answer. “Yeah, yeah, Harry. I’m on my way as fast as I can, okay?”

“Oh… No, no. It’s not that…”

Was I hearing things, or did I detect the hum of a lot of voices in the background?

“What is it?”

He sounded uncomfortable. “I think we need to find a different venue to play. Your quarters are going to be a little cramped…” Muted voices spoke rapidly but I couldn’t catch any words. “Meet us in the Lounge instead. Vorik says he has a code and he’d grab the PADD with your notes. I made him promise not to look.”

Nervous laughter bubbled from my mouth. “Uhh…why?”

Vorik’s voice resonated over Harry’s comm. “There are thirty-six other people who would like to spectate our game. At first it did not seem inconceivable to accommodate a few of them when they asked…”

“But all of us told a couple people that they could come and now there’s thirty-six of them,” Harry finished. “Sorry, Gee…”

Thirty-six… That’s forty-two people…

My jaw actually dropped.

“Okay,” I said in a small voice. “See… S-See you all there…” I killed the line by tapping on my badge again and wobbled.

I was shaking when I boarded the turbolift.

I’d never DM-ed a game before in my life, even though I’d talked about doing so on several occasions back home. So, without experience, or my old friends to ask for tips, I was already starting out nervous.

But now?

Holy shit.

What was I gonna do??

I blinked and the turbolift doors slipped shut on me, whisking me away to an uncertain fate.

[timeagainreviews]

The Doctor visits Villa Diodati... Again

It’s rare that an episode of Doctor Who can upset the fandom before it ever airs. Even rarer is the fandom actually having a valid reason for being so hacked off. The reason for this week’s outrage? That would be none other than the inclusion of the famous writer Mary Shelley into the story. If you’re a fan of Big Finish, you may know already that Mary Shelley acts as a bit of a companion in the Eighth Doctor audios. So when she shows up with the Doctor on the same night when she meets the Eighth Doctor, you start to wonder if anyone thought to actually check.

There’s a really great thing called the TARDIS Data Core. It’s a wiki maintained by the type of meticulous nerds (see: me) who care about this sort of thing. And it’s absolutely free to use. So if you want to throw in someone like say, Houdini, you can read up on the many instances when the Doctor met the man. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again, Doctor Who writers have a bizarre fascination with that man. I won’t fault Maxine Alderton for having not listened to the audios with Mary Shelley. I’ve only listened to one of them. But hell, check the damn wiki.

The world of Doctor Who gets its mileage out of perception filters. They play a huge part in the mythology of the show, and especially tonight’s episode. Maybe this is why the Thirteenth Doctor doesn’t remember her travels with Mary Shelley, it’s filtered out. And maybe that’s why when Lord Byron answers the door to Villa Diodati, he reacts with shock despite the massive windows with a clear view of the Doctor and her companions. Was he shocked by the fact that literally nothing changed? Pro tip- if you’re going to show someone surprised by who is on the other side of a door, wood is more effective than glass.

The Doctor and her companions have arrived at the Villa Diodati in the rain-soaked summer of 1816. The very same rain that has relegated Lord Byron, Mary Shelley, Claire Clairmont, and John Polidori housebound, has also forced the TARDIS crew to seek shelter at the villa. The episode wastes no time reaching for cliches as the Doctor says to her companions to brace themselves for meeting some of the greatest minds of human history, only to have the door open to a room of drunken buffoons. They did the exact same joke when the Tenth Doctor met Shakespeare. It’s not egregious, but it’s played out none the less.

Rebounding from cliches, director Emma Sullivan gets some great horror movie vibes as the appearance of a skeletal hand stalks through the house like a spider looking for prey. Clips of ghostly apparitions flicker in and out of existence. I was already very excited about where this was headed. Lord Byron is quite taken by the Doctor, who pays him very little mind. But this doesn’t stop the sleepwalking Dr Polidori from getting jealous when Claire appears to be flirting with Lord Byron. Much of the information about these four is conveyed by their proclivity to gossip, which I thought was a very clever way of sneaking a history lesson into the story. Once again, they’re making better use of edutainment moments by incorporating them into the story.

However, it is Lord Byron who has Claire’s eye. Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t stand a chance against the Doctor, or whoever catches Lord Byron’s attention that week. Claire laments Lord Byron’s mixed signals in a conversation with Yaz, leading Yaz to convey her own issues with someone she fancies. She never outright says it’s Ryan, but I’m guessing it’s Ryan. I’m also guessing we’re still doing that? She also very well could have meant the Doctor. Meanwhile, Graham is lost in this labyrinthian house whilst searching for the loo. I love that Graham is the companion that thinks about eating and going to the bathroom. I’ve always wondered why there weren’t more action movies where someone needed to take a piss. You never see Ethan Hunt stop a bullet train while needing to poop. Now that’s an impossible mission.

With Dr Polidori being a sleepwalker, his demeanour is anxious and agitated causing him to take Ryan’s playground trash talk as a major slight on his character. He challenges him to a duel, but before he can put a cap in Ryan’s backside, they’re interrupted by the presence of the skeleton hand. I really have to give it up to Tosin Cole here. His comedic chops this series have been spot-on. Watching him try and fight off a flying hand was just as funny as watching him try to impress Mary Shelley with a stumbling rendition of "Chopsticks," on the piano. After a bit of hot potato, the skeletal hand is taken out of commission by the valet, Fletcher with the serving tray assist. The hand smacks into the ground in a fine powder.

The Doctor reveals that she believes the house is giving off really evil "vibes," and they set about looking for answers. It’s at this moment that the perception filters begin toying with their minds. Stairwells lead down to their tops and exits lead to their entrances. It’s a very wibbly-wobbly moment that leads you to wonder what exactly is going on. Is the house haunted? Does it have anything to do with the bones Lord Byron is keeping at the villa? Why are vases breaking against the wall? Who is this apparition that keeps blinking in and out of existence? Who are the woman and child that supply Graham with a sweet plate of sandwiches?

Stuck in what seems like a time loop, Mary begins to panic as she hears her infant son William crying from a room she is unable to reach. It is then that the sleepwalking of Polidori actually comes in handy as he is able to walk through walls as he is unaffected by perception filters while asleep. This allows everyone to navigate the house by closing their eyes. The Doctor assumes that whatever is happening has turned the villa into a sort of panic room to protect it from something horrible. Perhaps this something has to do with room they’ve discovered which is covered in mad writing scrawled in an alien language. I’ll forgive them the cliche of the madman furiously scrawling walls as at this point, I am fully invested in the story.

It takes them almost no time to discover who the house is protecting them from, as the Lone Cyberman as warned about by Captain Jack arrives looking like Frankenstein’s monster. I absolutely loved the horror movie visuals. The decision not to reveal exactly what the Cyberman was at first, really amped up the anticipation. I knew he was coming at the end of the series, but I didn’t expect him so soon. His image cut like a hunched monster in the darkness of the hallway portrayed a man or monster that has clearly travelled a very long distance to get here. We’ve never had a chance to see a Cyberman look so fatigued and battle-worn. This concept is driven home as we’re able to see the human underneath the mask. One of his hands is left exposed calling back to the Cybermen’s first appearance in "The Tenth Planet."

The Doctor kicks into Doctor mode as she commands her companions not to follow her. The Cyberman goes about looking for "the guardian," which doesn’t pan out too well for poor Fletcher or the maid watching William. However, the Cyberman spares the baby because, after all, this is a family show, and we are still pre-watershed. The Doctor confronts the Cyberman who is unable to attack. Noting his emotions are still intact, the Doctor tries to negotiate with him. This is a rare opportunity for the Doctor to do something more with a Cyberman than exploding his head. However, it would appear this lone mechano man is the cause of all of the freak weather happening, as he recharges himself with a very Mary Shelley style lightning.

Meanwhile, the companions and their new friends have discovered Percey Shelley in the cellar. The Doctor reads Percy’s mind to discover he had found something shiny in the bottom of Lake Geneva, like some sort of sexy Smeagol.  Upon picking it up, it begins seeping into his skin, connecting to his mind where it would attempt to hide from the Lone Cyberman. The object is a sort of intelligent liquid metal known as the Cyberium. Within it resides all of the knowledge and history of the Cybermen. In its attempt to hide, Percy returns home to discover nobody can see him no matter how many vases he throws against the wall. The Cyberium puts up a series of perception filters that obscure him from sight. Who sent it back in time, and why it wants to hide from the Lone Cybermen is left a mystery.

The Doctor is forced to make a decision- ignore Jack’s warning not to give the Lone Cyberman what he wants, or allow the Cyberium to destroy Percy’s mind. Ryan tries to make like this is a simple decision as one life weighed against billions is an easy choice. However, the Doctor’s curt response shows the situation to be far more impactful. I loved her speech about being the lone person at the peak of a summit. That was some "curse of the Time Lords," level pontification which I have yearned so much to hear from Jodie’s Doctor. She almost seems disgusted with Ryan here. She doesn’t hide her contempt for always having to be the strong one. This may be one of my favourite Thirteenth Doctor moments as she seems genuinely pissed about being the one to make the big decisions.

Mary Shelley has a moment that clearly sounds like she was working out the basis for what would become her book "Frankenstein," as she tries to reason with the Cyberman. She sees the monster made of disparate parts, but she also sees the man within. But it would appear that this man within has the brain of a criminal as he thrashes about wildly looking to harm. Percy passes the Cyberium to the Doctor. Once again they touch on cliche by claiming the Doctor is the perfect host for the Cyberium. I found this odd considering they have always said the Doctor is not compatible with Cyberman technology, but whatever. The Doctor makes her decision which is to give the Cyberman the Cyberium. That’s step one of the plan, step two is to fix the problems she created with step one. I’ve never heard Doctor Who so succinctly summed up. The Doctor just keeps putting out fires until the problem is solved. Brilliant.

For now, we’re left to ponder the future of this Lone Cyberman. How will it play into the Timeless Child if at all? Is this the beginning of storyline spanning three different episodes? I’m hoping the answer is yes. That would be really cool to see not just the Timeless Child and the Lone Cyberman come together, but also the Master as well. If Chris Chibnall can actually find a through-line with all three stories, I would be very impressed. There’s a lot to like in series twelve, which makes it almost sad that so many people have been tuning out. I’ll admit I understand the trepidation people may have after series eleven. There was a sort of aimlessness that series twelve definitely does not share.

I wouldn’t sit here and say the entire series has been home run after home run, but I’ve not hated a single episode. Even the weaker efforts like "Orphan 55," and “Can You Hear Me?” were completely watchable. Even if "The Haunting of Villa Diodati," does mess with the Eighth Doctor canon, it doesn’t waste its time. That Cyberman reveal was so effective that I audibly said "Woah!" as he beamed his way into the house. And it’s still too early to say what is and isn’t canon at this point, as the Timeless Child could play into it. We could be dealing with pocket realities or alternate timelines. All could very well be revealed in the end. If not, well, it just gives Big Finish a chance to do what it does best- retcon the shit out of something until it fits. It’s Doctor Who, it can take the strain.

[morrigan-writings]

The God Father

Warning(s): none

A/N: Alright so this is a piece I wrote for an assignment a year ago, and I decided to go ahead and post it here because I was so happy with how it turned out (and I got an A!), and part of me wants to write some little blurbs that continue the concept.

Basically this is a fictional piece based on ACTUAL Norse mythology and NOT the Marvel versions. I got the idea for this off the writing prompt tumblr that was along the lines of "you write down Loki as your childs godparent as a joke, but he actually takes it seriously". I loved it so I used it. Enjoy!

PS -- I realized later that it maybe wasn't 100% clear, but Astrid was adopted, hence why she's "old enough" to play tea party, maybe 6-7. Only a handful of days passes over the duration of this piece.

It was all a joke, really. A complete farce, a “good laugh.” At least, that’s what it was meant to be. The Ohlsons had just welcomed their daughter, Astrid, into their lives, and they had crossed all the T’s, dotted all the I’s, but one last question remained: who to appoint as the girl’s  godparent? Erika and Ingrid Ohlson immediately turned to their respective families of course, but almost every option was eventually decided against. Both grandparents were already far up in years; Erika’s parents already living with an in-home nurse, and Ingrid’s own father refusing to ever speak to her. Erika was an only child, so Ingrid’s brother was next to be scrutinized. However, despite being close in age, he still acted a child in a grown man’s body, making poor investments, partying all weekend with numerous friends, moving from girlfriend to girlfriend. Absolutely not someone able to take care of a child (much less himself), and immediately scratched off the list. 

Friends were next, but...... there weren’t many options. The two new mothers weren’t incredibly social people to begin with, and as such only had a select few friends. A few were married with several children already, and Ingrid insisted they not add the potentiality of another child to the mix. Their other friends ranged from being either unequipped to raise a child, too busy with their own specific line of work, or just not close enough to be considered for godparent. Options had now all but disappeared, and the two women had resigned to perhaps just skipping over this particular notion.

About a week later, during an evening of movies and a couple drinks after putting the young Astrid to bed, Erika began giggling to herself, the sound growing to full-on laughter which she hastily struggled to stifle in the small apartment so as not to wake the child. Ingrid, simultaneously confused and curious, glanced over at her wife, a single brow raised.

“What in the god’s names has got you so hysterical?”

Pulling in a gulp of air, Erika turned to Ingrid, tears in her eyes. “Listen, okay, what- what if...... hear me out here- what if we......we......” she could still barely speak from her incessant giggling.

“Dear, please, what is it?” Ingrid sighed, her curiosity starting to eat at her.

“Okay...... okay so......” the woman finally composing herself to a degree. “What if, for just absolute shits and giggles....... what if we named a Norse god as godparent? Like a literal GODparent? Just, what if. For the hell of it.”

Ingrid, the resident librarian of the house, blinked. “You want us....... to name an ancient, all-powerful, Norse god of old..... as our daughter’s godparent?”

“Ingrid, hun, look: we have literally no options at this point. Maybe eventually we’ll have a friend become a better candidate later in the years, and if so, we’ll write them down as godparent instead. But for now..... come on, it’d be funny and it’d be an absolute hoot to see the look on people’s faces when we bring this up,” Erika then smiled more deviously, “plus I know you can’t pass up a good pun.”

Giving a smile of her own, Ingrid sighed. “Alright fine, lets do it. Which god did you have in mind?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep in a labyrinthine cave, hidden away from the known world, sat two ancient beings whose existence had all but been forgotten and reduced to mere myth. A restrained fire giant, face scarred, auburn hair now matted and lank, with a monstrously large serpent sat poised above his head. His wife, Sigyn, a goddess in her own right, yet often left out in stories even in the days of old, sat ever faithfully by his side, her own face gaunt, exhaustion and fortitude lining every inch of it. In her own scarred hands she held a bowl aloft as the only barrier between his face and the beast above as venom drip, drip, dripped into the small basin, the sound now akin to what the mortals refer to as a clock, the deity’s only semblance of time. 

The god had long since lost his unhinged anger for this life sentence, had since devolved into simply being..... exhausted with the ordeal. Relieved that his wife remained by his side, but also guilty that she stayed in such a horrid place with such a tiring task despite having no orders herself to be here. He had grown weary, maybe a touch apprehensive, with the smallest hint of boredom even. They had been stuck down here for centuries now. Or at least physically. The god found he maintained his ability to project an astral form of himself wherever he wished, and this is what he utilized to learn of the world through the long years. He only wished he could share this illusion of escape with his spouse.

As the centuries passed, he watched as humanity started to turn from the old ways, began to write off the gods as only myths and legend, not beings worth worshiping any longer for the most part. He watched as the rest of the gods slowly accepted this and drew back into their homes amongst Asgard and Valhalla and even Hel, only sitting back up to take notice if something truly important occurred on Midgard, but otherwise ignoring it, as they themselves were ignored. And why shouldn’t they? There was virtually no point otherwise anymore. But today........ today somehow felt different. The imprisoned god cracked open an eye as something seemed to shift in his awareness. Not...... worship, not really. But..... something new. Someone, somewhere, it seemed, was inscribing him as a guardian. To their child. And for supposedly no particular reason that he could even fathom. This was definitely new. The god began chuckling quietly before he could stop himself, the whole concept incredibly humorous. 

However, before he could share this new discovery, that dreaded time came again when that hatefully small bowl filled to the brim, and Sigyn sucked in a sharp breath as she suddenly flew into motion like clockwork. She rushed to pull the bowl away and dump the acidic liquid before too much harm was caused before she could return to her original post, but it was never fast enough, it was impossible to be. The second the obstruction disappeared, the snake’s venom began dripping onto the imprisoned god’s face, his eyes and cheekbones burning with each drop as if on fire, bellows of pain being loosed from his lungs all the while. His wife returned the bowl to its original position, frantic and remorseful apologies spilling from her lips as always, him waving them off with a shake of his head and a forced smile. Once resettling, Sigyn peered down at her husband with curiosity. 

“What was it that made you laugh so genuinely after so long?”

He smiled once again, remembering. “The gods may no longer be revered as they once were, but.... a fascinating development has occurred in the mortal realm: I have apparently been named as guardian to a young child, for whatever reason.”

The goddess raised her brow in surprise. “Guardian? I mean no offense, my love, but surely it must be in jest? And as you stated, we both know worship is no longer practiced on Midgard, so why this sudden change?”

“No, I agree, I find the whole matter quite amusing. However. Due to the absurdity and the rarity, on the chance that this is meant sincerely in any way, I feel inclined to follow it through.  I am named guardian, I am now bound to comply, I believe.”

A warm smile, the first he’d seen in decades, grew upon his wife’s face, as even her dulled eyes began to slowly light up again at the idea he presented. “Then by all means, you should go. All I ask is for you to bring me back stories of this child when you return.”

He returned the smile, the same genuine warmth mirrored back to her. Letting out a long exhale, the god settled back onto his rock best he could, closed his eyes, and cast out his consciousness to the mortal world, empowered by the promise of new mischief to come. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been only a couple days since Ingrid and Erika had filled out the paperwork to appoint their god of choice as the godparent to Astrid. As was anticipated, they were given a strange look from the clerk assisting them when he read the name. “A family friend,” Erika waved him off with a smile. The two new mothers had a good laugh on a the walk home that day, imagining all the potential hilarious scenarios in which to share this information.

Ingrid was playing tea party with Astrid as Erika was in the middle of cooking dinner when their doorbell rang. Intrigued as to who could possibly be visiting them at this time of night, Erika walked over and cracked the front door open, only just wide enough to see the person waiting outside. 

There in the hallway stood a man, nearly six and a half feet tall, with a lean build, and immaculately well groomed and dressed. A tailored suit was his attire of choice, a dark forest green, with gold buttons stamped with intricate designs, and cuff links that resembled a wolf’s head. His long, fiery red hair seemed to gleam faintly in the light as if metallic, the top half of it tied back out of his face, a couple small braids interspersed throughout. The man’s features were both fascinating and eerie, mostly made of sharp angles with smiling thin lips and darkened hazel eyes that almost seemed to flare gold (but it was probably just a trick of the lights). However, the only oddity about this figure was the scarring around said eyes, so faint you could only see it when the light hit his face just right, but still curious to see. 

While the strange man gave a tentative smile and made no move toward the open door, keeping his hands in his coat pockets, Erika had become confused into silence, trying to rapidly figure out just how to ask who the hell this man was in the politest way possible. Ingrid, also interested in who their late night visitor was, quietly came up behind her wife and peered past her shoulder to the figure outside. Ingrid, apparently, was quicker on the draw.

“Excuse me, but who are you? We weren’t expecting anyone this late, we’re in the middle of dinner.”

The stranger smiled knowingly, bowing his head slightly. He raised one hand up toward his face, snapping his fingers and causing a small flame to ignite above his index finger, pulling a gasp from one of the women.

“I do apologize for the late hour, unfortunately the concept of time has slowly left me over the years. But I am Loki of the Aesir, and I do believe I am young Astrid’s godfather.”

[skvaderarts]

AP Chapter Fifteen: Lessons

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Fifteen: Lessons

Note: Ah yes. Here I am starting work on this chapter at 7:03 am after spacing out for about eight hours. How does that even happen?! Like, how do you daydream for that long and not think about anything?! GAH! As a result of that and a looming delivery from IKEA today (I get to put together furniture, yay!) This will be a shorter chapter than the last one, but the next one will be normal 3k+ length. Thanks for your understanding and feedback, and sorry about that! Life is wild right now.

(-~-)

With every passing moment, the sun seemed to grow brighter as it's scorching rays cut a swath through the atmosphere and scorched the earth below. Heat was one of those things that was difficult to escape, even in the cooler parts of the world like where they currently were. The region was going through an unprecedented heat wave, so being indoors with air conditioning was the best way to spend your day. But the beach was a close second. Cool water lapped up against the sandy edges of the embankment, washing all manner of shells, pebbles, and seaweed up against the sandy outcropping. It was as if the sandy shores of the local beach were a filter for the water itself, pulling away any impurities and debre. In all honesty, it wasn't all that far-fetched of an idea. Nature works in mysterious ways, after all.

As the sun reached its peak in the sky above them, the children retreated to the shallows in search of entertainment and comfort, all the while being watched over by their adoptive father. Carlo was unable to swim, so he settled for dipping his toes in the water and building a simply dreadful sandcastle; one that Nero felt compelled to praise out of his obligations as a father. He knew he was trying quite hard with his little bucket and pale to make something worth wild, but he hadn't arrived at his destination quite yet. Perhaps in time the small child would hone his skills and create something that met his exacting standards, but for now, it was just a lump of dirt that wouldn't stand up straight due to the fact that Carlo didn't understand the concept of lifting the bucket straight up instead of pulling it sideways. Honestly, it was quite charming.

Nero scoffed in amusement as he watched the tiny curly haired boy struggle, making an effort not to laugh at him. He looked about two seconds from bashing the lumpy structure down with his tiny shovel. Just then, a stray wave washed in, soaking the poor boy and completely flattening the source of his frustration. He went wide eyes and pouted, clearly disproportionately disappointed. It hadn't been great, but it had been his. And now it was gone forever, along with any aspirations of becoming an architect in the future. Truly a tragedy the world would never recover from.

Clearly aware that his youngest child needed his assistance, Nero crossed the few feet that separated them and scooped up the squirming child, hauling him back towards the dryer part of the sand where he was sitting. Nero didn't mind the head that much, so he had plopped down just ten short feet away from the water's edge. It gave the children more than enough room to play, but assured his ability to gain access to them in an emergency. Once Carlo had been plopped down onto the sand gain, Nero borrowed his little bucket and demonstrated the proper sand castle making technique. After packing sand into the bucket, he turned it upside down and then lifted it up at the correct angle, making sure to do so at a speed that the young boy could comprehend.

"You have to lift it straight up like this," Nero said, sitting down on the sand and demonstrating the proper speed, angle, and hand movement required. He couldn't help but laugh to himself slightly at how small the bucket was in his hands compared to Carlo's." Here, let me see your hands.

Understanding the fact that guiding him through the process might be more efficient, Nero waited for his son's small hands to grasp the bucket before covering them with his own and guiding him through the process. Carlo giggles as the bucket lifts to reveal an intact sand mound. As far as the little boy was concerned, this was magic, plain and simple. Was Nero some sort of wizard?

Arriving right on time, V carefully made his way past the pair, stopping for a moment to take in the scene before him. He stared, and eyebrow raising as he tried to comprehend what his younger brother was doing. Nero glanced in his direction, suddenly very aware of how silly he probably looked holding Carlo's tiny arms up in the air with a bucket in his grasp as the child giggled crazily. V probably thought he'd lost his mind. But, to his surprise, V shot him a genuinely pleased half smile, closing his eyes for a moment. The young summoner nodded in approval before sparing Carlo a gentle wave. He then turned his attention back to walking steadily on the shifting sands that threatened to buckle around him. 

V's balance was unsteady at the best of times, but sand was another whole level of hazard for him. He was actually slightly anxious. While he was sure he wouldn't harm himself if he fell on such a soft surface, he would look totally helpless and clumsy, especially since the children were getting around just fine. He didn't want the other's to worry about him. He wanted Nero to spend time with his children. This was the first time he'd ever seen him have so much fun with them. He liked seeing them all together like this. Perhaps knowing that the little ones had something he never had the chance to brought him some sort of satisfaction. Despite never having one, family was something he cherished. Nero and Kyrie had given the children the chance that no one had given him, and he admired them for that.

For a moment, a part of him wondered if he would ever take on such a role.

It was very unlikely, but he would entertain the idea. Maybe it would be…

It was best not to dwell on aspirations and desires he could act upon, at least not for the moment. He would revisit this later, when he was in the proper mindset. For now, he was going to sit down and rest. Walking across that short segment of sand had been strangely tiring to him. At times, he was subtly reminded that he wasn't exactly himself yet. He had only been back about two weeks. According to Magnolia, it could be upwards of a month or two before he was back to the condition he'd been in before the Redgrave incident. The way he felt most days made him open to adding another month to that estimate. He'd always been quick to physically recover, but slow to regain his energy. Thankfully he didn't use very much of it. But being so profoundly drained for extended periods of time wasn't something he wanted to grow accustomed to. Living in a state of constant borderline exhausting was not how he planned to carry out his existence. But for now, he had no choice but to take it easy. It wasn't like he was going to go swimming after all…

No way in hell was he going in the water.

A moment later, Vergil arrived, somehow just as steady on sand as he was on every other surface. Maybe that was the product of spending so much of his time in rough terrain, or just Vergil's general level of grace and coordination. It was hard to say. But it was strange to see someone traverse such a shifty surface with little to no effort. The older devil slayer glanced in the direction of his youngest son, seemingly noting that he was attempting to demonstrate how to build a sand castle to the young boy. Vergil folded his arms loosely around his chest, giving Nero a curious but almost amused look. Nero raised an eyebrow, half expecting Vergil to say something unapologetic or disapproving. But he didn't. There wasn't a hint of irritation or disappointment in his demeanor. In a way, he almost seemed to like what Nero was doing, at least from what he could tell. He simply schoffed softly and turned towards V, tossing him his shoulder bag.

Clearly taken off guard by this due to the fact that he was in the process of sitting down, V caught it but stumbled back and flopped onto his back uselessly. He let out a discontent sigh and huffed, obviously not pleased that he was now covered in sand. He pushed the bag to the side and sat up slowly, brushing himself off. He flicked the fine sand particles out of his hair and then turned his attention to the bag, unzipping it and unpacking it. Nero and Vergil watched in silent confusion as he somehow produced a full sized beach towel and a large standing umbrella from within the confines of the bag. He stuck the shade casting device in the sand and unrolled the towel, opting to sit on it. He then produced a pillow and a book, taking the time to place it so that he could lay on it by propping his elbows up on the sand facing the water. Once in the correct position, he opened the book and presumably began reading it, only to stop a short moment later when he felt the collective eyes of everyone present on him. He shot his brother and father a baffled look, genuinely unsure of how he managed to garner their attention in the first place.

"You both look at me as though you've never seen a beach umbrella before." V said quietly. He wasn't sure what they wanted from him, but he found their confusion as confusing as they probably found whatever he'd done confusing.

Nero glanced between Vergil and V, Opening his mouth and holding out his index finger as though he was going to point and ask something, but then closing his mouth and lowering his hand at the last moment. The umbrella made perfect sense, but how he had managed to get all of that into such a snug bad sure as hell didn't. Vergil looked down for a moment and chuckled to himself under his breath, repressing the ruge to roll his eyes as he shook his head slightly. "I suppose that explains why that bag weighs more than you do wet. Am I to take it that you don't exactly enjoy the heat, then?"

The youngest of the trio of descendants snickered. What the fuck?

V nodded, waving passively." My complection and the sun have long since been bitter enemies, but the umbrella is a new addition. I discovered it while I was out with Nico yesterday." He glanced around in the general direction of the beach, obviously searching for something he didn't see." Where is everyone else? I could've sworn Dante was here just a moment ago."

To the surprise of basically everyone present, Carlo stood up and pointed towards the water where the other children were playing. Sure enough, his two older brothers were in the process of trying to drown the youngest Son of Sparda. Nero shook his head, unsure of how he felt about that, but willing to let them continue for the time being considering what Dante had recently done to him. He was still a little wet. The small child then stood up and toddled over to Vergil, tugging on the cuff of his sleeve. Only Vergil would wear what was basically a dress shirt to the beach. It was as close to "casual" as he was ever going to get. And it had to be blue. That was non negotiable.

"Grandpa! I miss you!" The little child said as he hugged his leg, jumping up and down in excitement.

Vergil could literally feel himself age about fifteen years from that statement alone. He suddenly felt the age he actually was for once and felt a profound desire to be somewhere else. This child was his grandchild, wasn't he. How in the hell had that happened?! He hesitantly patted the small child on the head, clearly uncomfortable with his entire existence in that moment. "... Yes… thank you, child."

(-~-)

As it stood, the girls had yet to return from their shopping trip. Some sort of snack vendor had passed by a short while ago, so everyone had opted to grab something. Nero had joined V under the umbrella after succeeding defeat right after that. While he didn't sunburn nearly as easily as his pale complexioned older sibling, he still didn't tan. And to top it off, Kyrie had used all of the sun screen on the children before they'd left the hotel. Staying in the shade was probably a good idea, at least for now.

"So… are we going to discuss the ulterior motive behind why you decided to buy a giant bucket and fill it with water when no one was looking, Nero? Or were you hoping to catch me unawares?" V said casually as he sipped the drink he'd acquired. Raspberry iced tea was literally never a bad choice.

Nero laughed at the statement. "Nope, were just going to throw this on Vergil when he's not looking. I'm pretty sure he's just staring off into space right now. Might be our best bet."

V shot him a slightly wide eyed look, clearly disturbed by the prospect of the plan he'd somehow been included in without his express permission. "... Has the salt water short circuited your brain, or do you just possess a death wish?" V said breathlessly in a hushed tone. He spoke as though he were trying to persuade someone to reconsider a sueside mission." He will not take that well."

The younger of the two shrugged, indifferent. " I mean, he can't kill us both, can he? He's never gonna see it coming. I'm going for it."

With that, Nero jumped up and grabbed the large bucket of water, making his way across the sand. V carefully stood up and made his way across the sand behind him, not entirely sure as to what he intended to do in this situation. To some degree, he actually wanted to help Nero with his plan. But the sensible side of his subconscious couldn't help but inform him that this was a lousy idea liable to get them both murdered in front of Nero's children. Nero noticed that he was pursuing him and stopped, waiting for him to catch up. V had practically sprinted after him, and was clearly out of breath and off balance.

"W-what are you hoping to achieve by doing this?" He asked, taking a few deep breaths as he attempted to steady himself.

Nero stuck the other end of the huge bucket out to him as if offering it to him. "Nothing, V. I'm just fucking with him. Live a little. Or can you not lift the bucket? Because-"

V held his hand up, shushing him. He then gave him an unreadable look before closing his eyes and sighing. A wicked smirk passed across his face as he shook his head and opened his eyes slowly, grasping the other end of the handle. Yes. They were absolutely going to die here. But at least it would be for something stupid. He'd always figured that would be how he went. Pointlessly as a direct result of his own stupidity and hubris.

The pair quietly and slowly closed the distance between themselves and Vergil. He was sitting no further than five feet from the shoreline, seemingly daydreaming or dozing off. It was honestly hard to tell. He'd been like that for a while, more than likely thinking about something originally, but now content to allow his mind to wander. It seemed like he was actually trying to relax for once. It was strange to see Vergil so quiet and at ease.

And then they tipped the bucket and a wall of cold salt water slammed into the back of him.

Practically Instantaneously, the entire atmosphere around him became electrified as he went from a sitting to standing position to fast for their eyes to detect. He faced them, radiating what could only be described as the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. V visibly paled and a look of immediate regret passed across Nero's face as they faced down their father. He was really starting to wish he'd taken V's advice and sat his ass down on the beach towel under the umbrella where he was safe. Now his children were going to have to watch him get mamed and possibly murdered. Again.

In an action that only intensified the nauseous feeling in the pit of V's stomach, Vergil actually laughed. V had no idea that his father was capable of even doing that, and the fact that he honestly couldn't tell if he found what they'd done funny or if he was planning to break every bone in his body made every millisecond physically painful. Vergil reached out and rested a hand on each of their shoulders, still laughing while facing down at the ground. It was at this point that the two of them shared a tentative glance at one another, considering the option of sharing their final goodbyes. Yea. Vergil was one hundred percent about to disembowel them.

Before either of them could blink, Nero went flying back across the sand, smacking his head against the umbrella stand about fifteen feet away. He considered getting up, but decided that laying there and playing dead might actually be a good idea for once. After all, the last time Vergil had thrown him across a room, he'd sat up only to find himself short an arm. Yes, his head did feel like a raging hornet's nest and his back felt like he'd just been waxed with sandpaper, but he still had all of his limbs. That was an improvement. 

V watched the scene unfold, trying to regester how Vergil had done that with one hand and silently hoping that he didn't decide to repeat it on him. He was a lot less… resistant to damage than Nero was. He could practically feel his shoulder dislocating just thinking about it. For a brief moment, he and Vergil shared eye contact and Vergil gave him an almost sarcastically reassuring pat on his shoulder, squeezing slightly but not in any way that he found harmful. The oldest Son of Sparda then turned his attention in the opposite direction as if something had caught his eye before nonchalantly shoving V in the direction of the water. He lurched to the side and violently spiraled towards the shoreline, yelping in a combination of terror and surprise as he slammed face first into the water with an impact velocity that would have made a speedboat green with envy and a car accident seem mild. All the air left his lungs as he sank beneath the waves about ten feet off shore, having been launched a good fifteen feet effortlessly. Vergil then smirked in satisfaction as he walked in the direction of his perplexed twin. It seemed that the others had just returned. After taking a few steps in their direction, he stopped. A thought had just occurred to him in that moment.

Why hadn't V gotten up yet?

…

… Oh no.

(-~-)

And it didn't end up shorter after all! Funny how that works sometimes! I fell asleep, woke up, and got this taken care of. Kinda happy with myself right now. Can't wait to see you next Wednesday for chapter sixteen. Looks like Nero is in for quite the surprise. Also, your comments cracked me up and made my whole day. Let's just hope Vergil doesn't come to regret what he just did. They should have seen that coming though. Don't poke a sleeping tiger lol! Also my dumb ass has been using HTML instead rich text on A03 this whole fucking time! Guess I know why italics and bold hasn't been working well now! FFS!