#like goddamn where did his Jekyll go…

[strangestcase]

All in all it’s very funny to see the JH fans on here complain that adaptations reduce Hyde to being scary and evil (almost always true!) and dumb him down (very rarely true!) just to turn around and reduce Hyde to ✨feral gremlin✨. You’re missing the entire point as well but in a much more annoying way.

[subrosai]

◟✧⡀ ( dean fujioka. non binary. they / them. ) … there’s a figure off in the distance, do you see it? wait is that … JUNICHIRO WATANABE ? how long have they been standing there? if that’s really them, i believe they’re FORTY-THREE.  do i know them?  no,  but i hear they’re INQUISITIVE and CALCULATIVE, but also DETACHED  and ELUSIVE. i do know that they’ve been in the city for THIRTY-FIVE YEARS. it’s crazy that they’re just standing there … shouldn’t they be working at OWNER as a  STOKER'S CRYPT? maybe they’re off today, i couldn’t tell you. hope they get moving soon. i’m starting to feel like SHINIGAMI FROM JAPANESE MYTHOLOGY is peering over at me … 

STATS

character name: junichiro watanabe / nicknames: jun ( reserved to a tight circle of friends ) / place of birth: ██, ███ / birthday: january 4th / sexuality: biromantic demisexual / gender identity: non-binary ( they or him ) / zodiac: capricorn / mbti: istj / occupation: owner of stoker's crypt / languages: japanese, english, spanish, chinese / moral alignment: chaotic neutral / love language: acts of service / rift level: legendary / powers:  necromancy ( impermanent, brief ), death sense, intangibility ( momentarily ) / how long ago did the mythos manifest: twenty-four years ago / main goal: to uncover the mystery of the town, gather information & power of regarding the those in high positions / gang / group name + position: jekyll & hide investigations, the brain

BIOGRAPHY

( blood, death, death imagery, necromancy, blasphemy cw )

you are only a child when you meet death. you remember that day far too well. you return from high school, only a week left until it's done and you will be graduating, the plans all made for where to go to college, what to study. instead, you open the door, and meet a crime scene. when you think back on that night, you can swear you saw a pair of eyes watching you from the window. then, the red and blue lights of police cars reflect against the glass, and you choose not to remember much of the rest. life changes much too quickly, and while you are technically an adult now, your next of kin, your grandfather who lives in penson convinces you to come to live with him. fallen into a vast emptiness, you find it impossible to say no. you study in penson, and you grow up in penson. the mist intrigues you, and it's only a year later that the same pair of eyes start appearing in the corner of your vision. here, and there, and there again. while you are walking at night to your house, when you are locking up your grandfather's library, when you are crouched in a convenience store trying to pick pasta, and a shadow disappears quicker than you can look up. you believe you officially meet your match when you stand in front of a gravestone. old age, they say, yet you can swear you saw those very same pair of eyes in the window when your grandfather took his last breath. you stand in the rain, eyes glued to yet another gravestone when the rain suddenly stops. there's the smell of tobacco, accompanied by the sound of steps by your side. r.s. he calls himself. and it's the start of your new life. fate brings you together to mourn on the same day, and that's when you learn more about jekyll & hyde. it's everything you could want and more. solving mysteries, digging into secrets of anyone and everyone. it gives you a purpose to discover more about the mist, to understand the rifts all around you. at first, you don't realize you are already one of them, until one fated night in a back alley, you are crouching over someone, trying to keep the blood in their body. r.s. is by your side again, leaning against a wall, smoking more of those goddamn cigars. the person dies slowly under your hands before the ambulances can arrive. you see the light in their eyes leave — and when you remove your hands and touch them again to take their pulse, they gasp back into life. it only takes around five more minutes before they are dead again. necromancy, albeit brief, seems to be very useful in your line of work. in the dark, you can swear r.s. grinning down at you, and another pair of eyes from the end of the alley vanishing away. it never takes properly, you can never figure out why. sometimes it's longer than fifteen minutes, and sometimes it's only a few. it can be challenging to calm someone down enough from their death to get the answers you need, but you get enough practice through the years. rest of your powers come slowly, the second is intangibility, and it manifests at a night not one of your best. a case that went wrong, no answers received from a decaying body. you swear you see those pair of eyes again, and you run after them with everything you have. it's then that you briefly run through a pole and feel nothing at all. intangibility seems to only work when you are in a heightened state of emotion, which does not come too useful every day. more years pass as you climb up the ranks, and become the underboss under r.s.. your last and final power does not come until you realize the anxiety at the bottom of your stomach is something else when it is your mentor that's finally taken away from you. his last words are for you to take his mantle, and that's what you do.

it's when you are looking down at yet another gravestone that you realize what it was. that sometimes you can feel death coming. it's not necessarily reliable, but it gives you some sort of power over not knowing at all. it's also ironic, how you have it now, after everyone that you have lost. you have been the leader for around five years now, the brain behind the operations, the one who calls the shots. you bring the organizations higher and aim for the stars. hoping to reach more information about the mist, the rifts, and the occasional secrets you cannot stay away from. power is everything in this world, and you intend to have it all.

[magpigment]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR GENLOSS: THE SPIRIT

i’ve recorded my general opinions and thoughts throughout the course of the generation loss episode the spirit. this is not really my analysis or anything, just my reactions to things as they happened. it will probably not make sense to anybody else but it might be funny, so here!

LMAO THE FACT RANBOO IS LIKE AS TALL AS ALL THE DOORS IN THE CABIN LMAO

ok the editing on this is pretty dope actually ngl

ALSO the thing on the back of their mask has the show fall media logo on it i think? like against the back of his head. that’s really really cool and also the mask looks dope

lmao the hauntometer in the corner 

oop bye bye urn

the fact that the show fall media guys name is squiggles, that’s pretty funny 

also genuinely what is up w the mask ranboo is wearing. as soon as it glowed red they were able to actually speak? and it happened as soon as he touched the ashes from the broken urn?? probably unrelated to the urn but strange nonetheless 

also the hauntometer is gone rip

weird painting??? in reference to the fourth wall or are they able to like. somewhat SEE the audience in some capacity? 

i like the interactive interface style it’s for going on, very point and click video game esque which is probably the point lmao

‘knowledge can be painful’ ???? foreshadowing perchance? 

why is he just picking up the ashes from the urn 😂 

THE GUY THE GUY THE GUY I MISS YOU ALREAYD WHERE IS HE ooooo the spirit i’m so excited 

dr jekyll and mr hyde is an interesting choice of book to have been brought up hmmm. very interesting and a neat way to subtly set the tone if it ends up being at all relevant 

ranboo keeps mentioning their head hurting which might just be a callback to the books falling on them but who knows!!

oooooooh that’s a cool setting for the door to take them to

why did he just shove sand in their pocket 😭 

‘pocket sand is useful in almost any situation’ shut your fucking mouth squiggles no one asked. i see past your little tricks you goddamn WEASEL. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT

why is there a musical instrument recorder there. what is this, a middle school

and also bats

i like how he’s just gutting a bat lmao

‘BOO BITCH’ YES YES YES MY BOY IS HERE!!!

‘oh my gosh is that slimecicle’ based, squiggles

slimecicle has been here for like two seconds and he’s already doing mouth to mouth on a bat. on brand 

‘RICHARD NOOOO’ agreed squiggles

it is so funny how ranboo is just absolutely TOWERING over the spirit. this is fantastic lmao

noooo not christian hell XD

i fucking love the voice charlie chose for the spirit, this is great. i am genuinely having a blast right now

it’s so funny that the spirit keeps getting stuck to himself 

the pinky promises lmao

RUMBISH 😂 

‘A NICE CHAIR, I WILL THOROUGHLY SOIL IT’ charlie please

‘how do i feel about this contestant? the same way i feel about everything- WET.’ CHARLIE PLEASE

‘goo goobie!’ you have redeemed yourself, slimecicle. for now

why does slimecicle want ranboo to degrade his fucking sandwich 

spagwebbi :3

the audience interactive element that keeps being brought up is actually pretty cool, can’t wait for it to bring me ceaseless agony later ^u^

the random unscripted person in the cupboard was fantastic

NOT THE MUSHROOM NOOO

i like the way squiggles capitalizes the word Loss, that’s pretty cool

i adore slimecicles little catchphrases he is so silly

that sure was a ritual yep

what the hell is charlie even saying 😂 

why’d he just throw an apple at ranboo 😂 😂 

WHYS HE THROWINF MORE APPLES AT RANBOO 😂 

why are there only five blueberries in that container 

ok jesus christ those are some massive fucking pickles that is absolutely ratchet 

is that medicinal mint jelly???? is regular mint jelly an actual thing????? 

‘*spits out cereal* no way’ mood squiggles

i like the different names slimecicle is coming up for ranboo 

watching charlie trying not to laugh at his own jokes is so funny 

i admire charlie’s dedication to the bit and also his role because my god i would have broken character a lot

also please PLEASE tell me charlie isn’t actually going to eat that slime

oh god

i’m pretty sure none of that actually made it into his mouth but jesus christ

THE FUCKING REMNANTS OF SLIME ON THE FLOOR FROM WHEN CHARLIE GOT STUCK 😂 

the symbol on the back of the mask is the show fall symbol!

also what the hell is up w hacker dude or whatever 

he was in a basement?? 

well we found the basement XD

also did showfall wipe his memory?? 

lmao idiot shone himself in the eye w a flashlight get rekt /j

we stan. teeth? 

WHY DID HE SHINE HIMSELF IN THE EYES W A FLASHLIGHT /AGAIN/????

sneegsnag ????

why is my man’s in a cage 

does ranboo not know how to unlock a lock??? 

‘LEAVE FRANK ALONE!’ lmao

i like how slimecicle just put sneeg in a cage

has charlie been in that box that entire time 😭 

ew grody

that slime was wildly unnecessary 

CHARLIE WAS HIDING IN A SHOWFALL MEDIA MERCH BOX 😂 

‘SEETHE?? COPE??’ charlie is so funny

’oh my gosh stab each otherrrr’ 

all the jello in slimecicles bedroom 😂 

is charlie under the bed??? that’d be literally so funny

also why is there a portrait of charlie

i wonder if the chat was actually the ones participating in the polls or not cuz if so that’d be so funny

LMAO CHARLIE IS IN THE WALL 

this is so funny 

sneegs fucking side eye 😂 

jesus fucking christ why are they throwing it back XD

welp. bye sneeg

charlie laughing in the background 😂 

i think it would’ve been really funny if the pocket sand had given charlie more hp because it ‘added even more weird shit to his outer shell’ 

‘you magnum BITCH!!’ charlie is so funny

i like the inane combat system. the meta they’ve developed is so funny lmao

ok genuinely what the hell is charlie even throwing here. what is that. 

‘what’s going on..?’ what IS going on???

why’d the rats dose him up lmao

[tyrantisterror]

It's funny you should mention this because Steven King made an argument that The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde should be considered a peer to Dracula and Frankenstein as the trinity of gothic horror novels that redefined classic folkloric monsters for the Gothic genre. specifically saying that what Dracula did for vampires and Frankenstein did for homunculi and revenants, Mr. Hyde did for werewolves.

And he's got a point - firstly, for some time Mr. Hyde was just as famous, perhaps even moreso, as Dracula and Frankenstein. Jack the Ripper was called "a real life Mr. Hyde" by newspapers, the stage show based on the play got adapted several times, he had a movie in the 30s around the same time as Drac and Frankenstein (though it was done by MGM rather than Universal) which in turn got remade in the 40's with big movie star Spencer Tracy in the starring role(s). Mr. Hyde may feel slightly more obscure now because he's not part of the branding that the Universal Monsters got, but he was a big deal.

But you know who usurped his place? The fucking Wolf Man. One could argue The Wolf Man has more in common with The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde than any pre-existing werewolf story, and it certainly shares the dramatic crux of the novel where a good(ish) man unwillingly turns into a depraved, murderous monster while everyone else is left in the dark about what's actually going on, though The Wolf Man adds the wrinkle of Larry Talbot actually trying to tell people, unlike Jekyll, who tries to keep it a secret - and the fact that Larry tries to warn people only for them to refuse to believe him is, in my opinion, what gives The Wolf Man is special sauce, because the horror of knowing you're responsible for murdering people and that you can't be stopped because no one believes you is so goddamn maddening, and few horror stories, including the wolf man's descendants (and even its goddamn remake) ever bother to include it despite how potent a plot element it is.

...Anyway, the Wolf Man was positioned as the third of the Big Three Universal Monsters decades ago, and has held that position since in pop culture, helped by the fact that werewolves are as big and varied a category of monster as vampires, homunculi, and revenants, while Mr. Hydes remain a very specific one-off monster that doesn't feel like it has the same variety because we can trace it to one singular original source. Still, one can make a strong argument he wouldn't have that place if Mr. Hyde hadn't paved the way for him.

Who's your favorite of the classic universal monsters and why? (based solely on their portrayals in the universal movies, sequels and crossovers included, not their original book counterparts.)

The Wolf Man, because the character was both written and performed so well that he basically redefined what werewolves are in Western culture. None of the other Universal monsters can claim that impact, and since they never recast him, he also remains the most consistently well characterized and acted monster from film to film. Dracula and Frankenstein got their characters shaved down in sequel after sequel, but Lon Chaney Jr. made sure Larry Talbot was never less than his best.

[sysig]

I’m gonna get an emotional support spider

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [1.4]

Masterlist

Trigger Warning: nudity, very mild allusion to smut

The grocery store was busier than either of them had expected for an early Saturday morning. Eva wasn't even halfway around the store yet and the cart was filling up rapidly. She hadn't decided what she was going to make for dinner and hadn't found any of the items that had been on her list. She read the list on her phone and looked at the boxes of rice varied on the shelf. Remington came up behind her with a few bags of fruits and vegetables, placing them in the cart.

"What do you want for dinner?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled by her mask.

Remington shrugged, "I don't know, whatever you're in the mood for," he replied.

"... So, if I'm in the mood for prime rib --"

"Let's not get ridiculous now," he chided, eyes crinkling to let her know he was smiling. Eva snorted and grabbed a random box of rice.

She looked to him as he went on to the next section of the aisle, hand on his hip as he tried to make sense of the list she'd given him, matching it with what was on the shelf. His hair was hidden under a toque, despite the heat, with the pastel pink tips falling into his eyes - sexy and sweet all at once. The low neckline of his black and white striped t-shirt accentuated his neck where collar bone tattoo was peaking out. He had on some simple black jeans, black boots, and his eyes lined in thin black that was beginning to smudge. He was tentative as he reached for a jar of pickled vegetables, cognisant that someone may have touched the same jar not minutes ago and may have been carrying the virus. He was quick to sanitize his hands after he'd placed the jar in the cart.

Pushing the cart into the next aisle, Eva turned her back to reach for something on the shelf. His movements were slow but out of the corner of her eye could see Remington moving towards the cart, burying something under the almond milk and cheese, hoping she hadn't seen as he shifted back into his position with the shopping list still open on his phone. His face was nonchalant but he scratched his neck, moving along, trying to act interested in the shelf he'd stopped in front of. Eva shook her head with a laugh.

"Whatever it is, either put it back or get another cart," she stated simply.

He flicked his head back to her, eyes wide above the mask, the devilish smirk hidden beneath but was twitching at the corners of his lips. He was quiet for a moment, feigning innocence then sighed defeatedly.

"I hoped you wouldn't notice," he mumbled, crossing back to the cart beside her, his hand warm on the small of her back. She turned to him, her attention fully his and he wiggled his eyebrows a little, his goofy tactic making her laugh with her head tipped back.

"My darling, every time we shop together you try and sneak shit in,"

"And here I was thinking I was getting away with it," he replied, and Eva could picture the pout he was putting on behind his mask. She reached to touch his neck, her hand cold from the fridges she'd just been in but he leant into her palm, those big brown eyes staring at her with mischief. She lowered her voice a little, so that only he could hear her.

"Well, you get away with it because you're so goddamn hard to deny," she said.

"Oh, really?" he chuckled, his arms wrapping around her waist to bring her close, forgetting for moment who he was and where he was. His thumbs tickled her sides a little and she giggled back at him.

"Yep, you're too cute you see?"

"I try..." he chuckled with a shrug, the subtlest of blush colouring his cheeks.

"So," she began, raising her eyebrows at him, "- what did you just try to sneak into my shopping cart?"

"Just some cookies," he mumbled quickly, momentarily avoiding her eye contact like a child who'd been caught misbehaving. "I'll share 'em with ya!" he exclaimed.

"Well, it's alright for you with your tiny waist and annoyingly good metabolism. You can eat all you want and still look that good," she licked her lips a little, moving her hand to touch his chest, "If I have a bite of one, I'll be bloated for the rest of the week."

"Don't be silly," he grumbled, pulling his mask down momentarily to peck her forward reassuringly, then moving her suddenly out of the way from an elderly lady who wanted something on the shelf behind them. He watched as she stretched across to the shelf, her frail fingers not quite able to reach the packet she was fumbling for and he was quick to react, sinking a little to meet her eye line.

"Would you like a hand?" he asked confidently, his voice soft, his eyes brimming with the same genuine kindness and effortless charm that made Eva fall in love with him over and over each day.

"That'd be wonderful, dear," she replied, grinning at him and Eva and stepping out of the way. Remington quickly grabbed the packet from the shelf and popped it into her basket for her. "Thank you so much," she chimed, nodding her head of grey hair in appreciation. "Such a lovely boy," she shuffled off with a final thank you and Remington beamed from ear to ear proudly.

"See," he hummed, turning back to Eva "I'm a lovely boy..."

"Mhmm... sanitize your hands, lovely," she took hold of the cart again, pushing it further along. Remington quickly pulled out his trusty bottle.

"Okay," he drawled, coming up behind Eva as she walked, trying to wrap his arms around her waist again needily, his chest pressed against her back, "I have a little proposition for you,"

"Oh no" she joked, relaxing into his warmth and the familiar scent of his shampoo.

"I'll put whatever I want in the cart and you just have to pretend ya' don't notice,"

He nuzzled the side of Eva's neck, his nose pressed against it and she tensed for a moment. He was ridiculously impossible to say no to, annoyingly irresistible. She sighed.

"Fine,"

Satisfied, he checked to make sure nobody was around before he pulled down his mask, then she hers, and he moved to kiss her on the lips lovingly, lingering for a while longer than he should have in the middle of the store, his fingers tangling in her hair. When they pulled away Eva playfully rolled her eyes as they pulled their masks back on.

"You're footing the bill this time, Cookie Monster,"

They finally managed to exit the store, both of them with plastic bags in each hand. Crossing out the threshold, Remington stopped short when he spotted a familiar face coming towards them, scowling as he had to put on his mask per store policy. It was the same man who was harassing the cashier a few months ago, the same one Remington cold-cocked in front of the entire store. Eva recognized him quickly, and glanced at Remington with wary.

Remington couldn't help but smile smugly, clearly having been recognized. The man refused to make eye contact with either of them as he stormed past, ducking into the store.

Remington scoffed, "I guess his probation is up,"

"I wonder which poor staff member he's going to harass today?" she said.

He glanced down at her with a mischievous grin, "Did you happen to forget anything on your list?"

Eva rolled her eyes, "Cut it out, Rem,"

When they made it back to her place, they were quick to unload and disinfect all their groceries. And then they fell into their making-dinner routine as per usual; and of course, Remington ended up getting distracted by Pluto. The tabby would rub against his legs or sit and eye him on the counter while he chopped the vegetables. While Eva wasn't looking, he pushed over some pieces of carrot for Pluto to nibble on. He had turned into a real pushover when it came to this cat.

After they'd eaten and cleaned up the dishes, Eva was reluctant to start up her work again. The article she was working on was a particularly dry piece and it was like pulling teeth get all her information and detail from her client. This was week three she had been working on it; she usually had her pieces finished within less than a week.

Remington sat on the couch while she worked at the table, reading a book he had picked from her extensive collection: The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It was a story he knew of well but he never had the opportunity to read the actual book, and he found the sounds of Eva's typing soothing as he got lost within the literature.

It was some time past eight-fifteen when Eva pushed her laptop away, rubbing her strained eyes and yawning. Perhaps she ought to invest in a pair of blue light glasses? Her eyes wouldn't be aching this much if she did. She stood up and did a stretch, looking over to her couch where a single lamp illuminated the dark space. Remington had spread himself across the cushions with Pluto curled up in his lap; he read the book with one hand and rubbed the tabby's ears with the other. It was an endearing thing to see.

She wandered over and sat on the couch arm, smiling when she read the cover of his book, "How is it?"

"Very good. If I had read this in English class I probably would've gotten a higher grade," he said.

"You didn't read it in high school?"

"Something tells me you did,"

Eva nodded, "Wrote a paper on how society has suppressed us to the point where we all sympathize with Hyde because he represents instinctive human nature,"

Remington threw his head back into the pillow, looking up at the ceiling, "Of course you did,"

"What?"

"You're just really fucking cool. Have I mentioned that already?"

Eva simpered, "Says the rockstar with a number one album out,"

"And with only one person in my audience," he smiled at her, "How's your work?"

The small brunette sighed and pouted, staring down at Pluto and petting his pointed ears, "... Can I have a hug?"

"That bad, huh?"

"Yep,"

He didn't need to be asked twice. Remington carefully removed Pluto and set him down on the floor before pulling Eva into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly and placing a soft kiss on her head. Eva rested her head against his chest, sighing heavily and closing her eyes, hoping to make the ache in her head go away. His fingers twisted in the short locks of her hair and she picked at the fraying threads of his t-shirt.

"What're you writing about?" he asked softly.

She scoffed, "An analysis and review on why old Hollywood stars all spoke in that same not-British-not-American hybrid accent,"

"That sounds kind of cool,"

"In theory, yes. In writing, not at all," she rubbed her eyes again and pinched the bridge of her nose, "It's really dry,"

Remington grazed his fingers over the nape of her neck, "You got a headache?" and she nodded briefly, "You want some pills?"

"Took some already," she muttered.

It didn't take two glances at Eva to see that she was exhausted. In between her work and their outings, Remington could pick off that she was slowly fading, whether it be her focus or her overall body language. And in the last few hours, fatigue had slammed into her like an eighteen-wheeler.

"How much more do you have to write?" he asked.

"I'm just about at the conclusion," she looked up at him, her dark stormy eyes glossy and cloudy.

He smiled endearingly, pushed her fallen hair of her face, "I think it can wait until tomorrow,"

Eva shook her head, "I'd rather just get it all done tonight," she said.

"No offense, but your eyes look like they're about to roll out of your head," he chuckled.

Eva would have rolled her eyes but it hurt to do so, "Rem..."

"Besides, your eyes are one my favorite things about you and it would be a damn shame to lose 'em,"

"My eyes can't roll out of my head," she giggled at his absurdity.

Remington shrugged, "Keep pushing yourself and you may be proven wrong," he joked, then standing up much to Eva's chagrin. She pouted as he glanced down at her, only in the mood for cuddles and silence.

"Where are you going?" she whined, her glossy eyes and pursed lips incredibly adorable to Remington.

"Don't worry, you're coming with me," he assured her, trying to entice her to stand up. Eva put her hands out in front of her and Remington took the bait, hauling her to her feet with one swift tug. Eva was definitely more awake after that.

He led her into the bathroom and had her sit on the counter sink, excitement flooding her as he turned on the faucet to her bathtub. She had an average sized bathroom considering how small her apartment was, with white tile walls and a few succulents on some shelves alongside her toiletry products. Remington was pleased to see she had a couple different scents for a bubble bath.

"Ocean breeze or peach and mango?" he asked, pointing to the blue and orange bottles.

"Ocean breeze," Eva smiled.

She didn't have any adequate candles in her apartment, but she did have a lava lamp with a strobe light that changed colors. Alongside the pleasant and calming scent of the ocean bubble bath, Remington set up his Spotify playlist to echo softly through the room.

Eva cocked her head as she watched the water rise and the bubble grow in height in her small tub, "I hope we both fit,"

"It'll be fine," Remington nodded, shutting the water off as it hit just the right height, "Gives me more reason to be closer to you, anyway,"

Eva simpered, "You're so schmaltzy,"

"You like it, though,"

"I do," she shut her eyes as he came down to kiss her, chapped lips soft and gentle, and she couldn't help but smile when she felt his fingers fiddle with the buttons of her top. She didn't object, however.

He let go of her only to help her undress; pulling her shirt over her head and pressing a few kisses to her shoulder playfully as he fumbled with her bra. It didn't take Eva long to discard her socks, shuffle out of her denim shorts and for Remington to eagerly get her out of her underwear too, his hands roaming her body to keep her close to him. She undressed him as well, his jeans slipping down his legs with ease and making quick work of his briefs. He bundled all the clothing into the corner of the room. Brushing back her hair and kissing each cheek, he held Eva for a moment, then nestled into her neck, looking at them both in the mirror.

"My God, you're gorgeous," he spoke into her ear, his thumbs brushing the skin at her waist where he held her now, his chest pushed to her back.

"You're not so bad, yourself," she tittered, her cheeks tinting in time as the color in the lava lamp changed to fuschia.

Remington pressed a couple of kisses to her shoulder then shuffled over to the bathtub, steam rising from the surface, dipping his hand in to check if was the temperature was right. Supposedly satisfied, he then sunk into the water quickly, stretching his legs and resting his elbows over the back of the tub.

"How's the water?" Eva giggled.

"Fantastic. Care to join me?"

He held out his hand to get her in, not the most elegant of tasks be he couldn't take his eyes off of her, watching as Eva sunk in the water and sitting comfortably between his legs. The water was perfectly warm, detoxifying. She let go of his hand reluctantly.

Remington shuffled a little behind her, readjusting exactly where he wanted to be. Eva relaxed against him, her back on his chest, her eyes closing for a moment as she sunk into the relief of how warm she was.

"This okay?"

"Mhmm,"

"How's your head?"

"A bit better," she rested her head on his shoulder, smiling up at him, "I've never taken a bath with a boyfriend, before," she admitted.

"Are you kidding me?" he replied, his fingertips drawing little circles in her thighs.

Eva shook her head, "No baths. It was always showers, which was kinda' nice too, but..."

"There was always the lead up to shower sex?"

"Right," she chuckled again, "Did you ever find that shower sex is a lot more complicated then its made out to be?"

"You're referring to the stress of trying to fuck and not slipping in the shower, right?" he smirked.

"Exactly! It sounds like so much fun and then you actually try it, and it's way more work than it's worth," she said.

"I admit, it's not my favorite thing," beneath the water, Eva could feel his fingers drawing up over her thighs and ghosting between her legs, "But we can always just fuck in the bathtub, too,"

Her back arched momentarily before the hand in question came to rest over her stomach, and Remington was wearing a shit-eating smirk, "Is that the sequel to Dying in a Hot Tub? Fucking in the Bathtub?" she chuckled.

He gasped, his dark eyes going wide, "Oh my God, you're a genius!"

"You're just figuring this out?" she laughed again before pecking his flushed cheek, one hand grasping his shoulder as she turned in her spot and peppering kisses all over his forehead, down his temple, his cheeks, his eyelashes, above his lips and on his jaw. She attacked him with quick kisses and he was laughing that light giggle that set her heart ablaze.

His fingers snagged her cheeks. holding her in place so he could give her a proper kiss on the lips, "What was that for?"

"Just because," she pecked his lips again, "You make me really happy,"

[cagestark]

-Defender//6-

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

just a lil chapter. Next is the last.

Read here on AO3.

-

Tony’s hand isn’t as burned as he feared. Once the initial redness wears off, the skin is just tinted pink and a little raw. Still Rhodey supervises down in Tony’s lab while the younger man applies burn cream to the tender skin. On top of all the callouses and scars that his hands already bear, he’s surprised he even feels it at all.

“I’ve never heard you so quiet before,” Rhodey says from where’s he’s seated on a stool on the other side of the lab table, the surface strewn with first aid supplies. The man’s dark eyes track his every move, mouth in its characteristic frown. “I’ve never actually heard you be quiet at all. This must be serious.”

“It’s not, really,” Tony says. But as he says it, he loses his confidence. What happened upstairs seems pretty serious: seriously concerning, seriously unexpected. In a deep, vulnerable place, Tony was seriously grateful. “Peter is protective. I recruited him a few weeks ago when I found him scaling the side of the building.”

Rhodey’s eyebrows climb up his sloped forehead. “Mutant?”

“Enhanced,” says Tony, slowly refilling the first aid supply kit. “Bitten by a radioactive spider, believe it or not. He’s got super strength, agility, and scopulae that help him stick to nearly any surface like Velcro.”

“Goddamn.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“So why are you the surface he’s stuck himself to?” Rhodey asks.

Tony lets the question linger, pondering it. This is Rhodey, who has seen him in all manners of debauchery, who has seen every high and low of Tony’s up-close-and-personal for the last thirty years—but that doesn’t mean it gets any easier to see the disappointment in his face. It doesn’t mean that Tony doesn’t fear losing one of the last people who cares about him, who tolerates him at all.

At last Tony says, “I think he’s kind of in love with me.”

“Kid’s got a crush?”

“Yeah,” Tony admits. “And—he’s not the only one.”

Rhodey sighs, reaching up to rub at his forehead. “Jesus, Tones. How old is he?”

“Legal. Not that it makes it any better with more than twenty years between us. Steve doesn’t approve. He thinks I’m grooming the kid.” 

“These people don’t know you at all,” Rhodey says. “Tony. Tony, look at me. That’s not the kind of guy you are.” 

“He’s the most righteous man alive,” Tony says. His hands shake, weakness, like leftover DT’s from the day she stopped drinking an inordinate amount of alcohol and only indulged on occasion. Weakness. All he’s made from are a dozen different weaknesses stitched together into the shape of a man. “You know me. Obviously I’m not one for self-reflection. But when the man who used to kill Nazis for a living always thinks the worst of me, maybe it’s because there is worse in me.

“Peter treats me like the sun shines out of my ass, all because I treat him like a fucking human being, but he barely knows me. If there’s one thing history has taught me, it’s that there’s Captain America’s side, and then there’s the wrong side. I always end up on the other side. Always. If Peter isn’t careful, he’s going to end up there with me, and that’s not what I want for him. He’s good, I think. In his core.” 

“So are you,” Rhodey says. “None of the Avengers know you, and you don’t even know yourself. If you did, you wouldn’t let yourself be treated like this. At least this kid seems to have some sense, even if he’s subtle as a brick wielding it. I feel a lot better about spending so much time in DC knowing that someone is here and in your corner.”

-

Peter rests his forehead against one of the glass floor-length window panes in his room, mouth full of sticky-sweet cherry flavored pastry. He can barely taste it. Up this high, Manhattan looks fake beneath him, a toy city that he should take care not to step on, like the lego structures he used to leave out around May’s apartment when he was a boy. 

May. The pain of losing her never gets easier. There is no coping, there is just forgetting. Times when his mind is so full up with other things that there is no room for even her, when he’s working on a machine, when he’s training with Natasha in the gym. Then in moments like this, her memory comes rushing back in, and it’s like the grieving process starts over. She dies again to him, every day. 

Are you ashamed of me? Peter wonders, looking into the cloudless sky. There is no answer. 

May had never liked violence, but she was fierce in her own way. She believed in justice, she believed in compassion. Would she think he overreacted in the kitchen when he’d threatened to tear off another enhanced’s limb? Or would she think him justified, if she knew of the things Steve and the rest of the team had done to Tony? Just thinking about it makes his blood boil. People who had hurt Tony physically and emotionally, people who had no respect for him, people who still took advantage of every bit of his goodwill. Unremorseful people. 

Glancing down, Peter sees that he’s crushed his other poptart to crumbs. Kneeling down to sweep them into the palm of his hand, his spine goes stiff, just a brief moment of warning—someone at the door, not Steve, not Tony, someone—before there is a firm knock. Abandoning the crumbs, Peter opens the door a crack, afraid of who might be on the other side. 

A dark, serious complexion greets him. 

“Hi,” Rhodey says. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course,” Peter says, opening the door wide to let him past. He catches a brief glimpse of the other Avengers standing huddled together, eyeing Peter’s room with wariness before he shuts the door on the image. 

It must look strange, a young man whose room is so empty. No photographs on the wall, no pile of clothes on the floor, no posters or game consoles. The bed is made (unslept in most nights, though Rhodey would have no way of knowing that sometimes Peter feels more comfortable in enclosed spaces, that he curls up inside the closet empty except for clothes hangers or that he crawls underneath the bed to sleep). Combined with his display in the kitchen, he can’t imagine what the older, distinguished man must think of him. 

“Is Tony’s hand okay?” Peter asks. He can still hear the pained hiss the man made when the steaming coffee spilt onto his bare flesh. It makes that feeling come up in Peter all over again, that feeling like he has swallowed fire, fury like acid that eats at his stomach, fury that he wants to spit out at someone. At Steve Rogers. “I should have stayed to make sure.” 

“It might blister,” Rhodey says. “But he gets worse down there in his lab on the daily. That’s not why I’m here.” 

“Why are you here then?” 

“Tony is important to me. The most important person in my life except for my own mother. I’ve been watching his back since he was a teenager, and short of dying, nothing’s ever going to change that. That’s either going to make us friends or enemies, Parker. Your choice.” 

On the lengthy list of threats Peter’s received in his life, this is easily the most charming. Rhodey isn’t even enhanced. Peter could kill him without breaking a sweat, could tear his head from his body, could pull off his arms and legs the way other kids do to spiders, to smaller, weaker creatures. But there’s still something formidable about the other man. At the very least, there is something respectable. 

“Anyone in Tony’s corner is someone I want to be friends with,” Peter admits. 

Rhodey’s expression softens. He holds out a hand that Peter meets with his own. “Then you’re alright by me, kid. You could use a lesson in picking your battles, though. It doesn’t take enhanced powers of deduction to see that Rogers wants you off the team.” 

“I’ll fight any battle that protects Tony.” 

“And when you’re on the bench because Rogers has convinced the Powers that Be that you’re too unpredictable to be in the field? Who’s going to be protecting Tony then? Too many injuries have happened on missions because not a single one of them can be counted on to have Tony’s back. You could change that, if you’d get a grip on your temper,” Rhodey says. Peter’s shoulders sag—he hadn’t even thought of that. 

“Sometimes I can’t help it,” Peter admits. “It feels like there’s this monster inside of me. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or something. When they say something bad about Tony or when they hurt him, some flip inside me gets switched. How do I stop?” 

“You’ve got to choose what’s more important to you,” Rhodey says. “Protecting Tony or avenging him.” 

For a long time after Rhodey leaves, Peter stands at the wall of windows, staring out unseeing at the city below while he cycles through everything that Colonel Rhodes said, wondering again and again, Why can’t Peter do both?

-

“This is like, a foreign language to me,” Peter mutters, flipping through the textbook that Tony had retrieved for him. The cover reads FUNDAMENTALS OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING. The glossy margins are filled with Tony’s tiny scrawl, and Peter runs his fingers reverently over the writing trying to imagine a fifteen year old boy scribbling on each page. He’s seen pictures, newspapers archived on the New York City Public Library computers of a young, handsome boy crouched beside a robot he built, smiling into the camera. Fifteen years old, and this had been nothing to Tony. Peter is twenty and it takes him ages to get through a single paragraph, googling foreign terms on his phone and struggling to understand the abstract concepts. 

Tony glances up from his StarkPad. He balks at the expression on Peter’s face and turns the tablet off, sitting it aside. “Come over. We can go through it together.” 

“You’d explain it to me?” Peter asks, raking his eyes over the older man’s face. Fuck, Tony is so handsome. That look he’s giving Peter, too, the unbearably tender kind, the fond kind, it makes him all the more beautiful. He’s not above asking Tony for help. His pride was one of the first things he had to let go of when he began to live and sleep rough. “I feel like an idiot.” 

“You’re far from an idiot,” Tony says. He pats the seat next to him and they sit shoulder to shoulder, close enough that Peter can soak up the man’s warmth, struggling not to sway ever closer. Tony has his own gravity, and Peter often feels helpless to it. “You’re self-taught. It’s no wonder that a lot of this technical jargon isn’t connecting.” 

They make it through the first chapter together, and Tony was right—much of it Peter was familiar with, though it hadn’t been presented in terms he knew. Tony is an excellent teacher, too. Patient and insightful, witty. He soothes Peter’s fears that he isn’t smart enough, builds confidence in him that maybe he could learn to be an engineer the way he’d always dreamed. 

“We should send you to school,” Tony says afterwards, handing Peter a chilled Coke from the refrigerator. “An Avengers Scholarship, maybe. Full ride, all the amenities, only the best schools and tutors.”

“You mean you won’t be my private tutor, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, letting his eyes get wide and sweet. Most older men find the guileless thing sexy, but Tony just laughs at him. 

“I wouldn’t want to put your education in jeopardy. People will hardly be able to say I’m an unbiased educator,” Tony says. The warm, dark eyes drop to Peter’s mouth for just a moment before looking away, drinking deeply from his own Coke. “Though I’m sure we could come up with some incentive program for good grades.” 

“Incentive program, oh,” Peter laughs. “I like the—”

An alarm begins to sound, loud enough that Peter feels it in his teeth and deeper. It’s louder, harsher than the sound of Tony’s doorbell. The reaction it evokes in the older man is visceral as well, eyes going wide, jaw going tight as he taps at his glasses. The sound cuts out of the penthouse, but Peter can hear it continuing on in the floors below. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks. “Are we under attack?” 

“Someone is. That’s the alarm for the Avengers to assemble.” 

-

The people under attack are on the west coast. Some ‘half-rate magician’ (Dr. Stephen Strange’s words, not Peter’s) had accidentally conjured inter-dimensional creatures that they couldn’t control nor send packing. The Avengers are being sent to round them up and with the assistance of Dr. Strange, send them back to where they’ve come from. 

For the first time, Peter meets Director Nick Fury, a black man with one eye and a direct way of speaking that Peter can appreciate. Around the table are seated seven other Avengers: Natasha, Steve, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Vision, and Tony himself. After Fury ends his briefing on the situation, Steve stands and begins to formulate the briefest bones of a game plan and—

Peter isn’t in it. 

“Sorry, kid,” Steve says. “You’re not yet cleared for field work. Maybe next time.” 

“I’ve been working with Natasha for weeks,” Peter says. Colonel Rhodes words play on a loop in Peter’s brain, and they’re his lifeboat in the sea of anxiety that threatens to drown him. Peter needs to stay calm and play it cool. It’s the only way he’ll be allowed to have Tony’s back, and he must have Tony’s back. “This seems like the perfect mission for me to get my feet wet.” 

Tony sits beside Peter, silent and stiff. Director Fury watches all of them with a cool, knowing gaze when he says, “He’s got a point, Captain.” 

“We’ve got protocols for a reason,” Steve says. “Putting you in the field before you’re ready is an easy way to get hurt, Pete. Sorry, but the answer is no.” 

All eyes turn to Fury, who nods to Steve magnanimously. “Don’t look at me,” he tells them. “That’s your team leader. It’s his call.” 

Peter listens to the rest of the plans with his hands clenched in his lap, knuckles turning white. He cycles through every stage of grief, and as soon as the team breaks to head to the room where the helicarrier will take them to California, Peter catches one of Tony’s wrists to keep him from filing out of the room, just another soldier under Captain Rogers’s command. 

“Please don’t go,” Peter mutters. Director Fury watches them unabashedly, his arms crossed. Tony lifts a hand to ruffle Peter’s hair, but the expression on his face is downright grim.

“Don’t worry about me, kid,” Tony says softly. “I’ve been doing this gig for years now, and I haven’t died yet.” 

That doesn’t comfort Peter at all. When Tony leaves, he takes all the warmth with him until Peter feels chilled to the bone. 

“Parker. Nice to officially meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Director Fury says. He doesn’t offer his hand to shake, and neither does Peter. 

“From who?” Peter wonders out loud. “Captain Rogers?”

Fury hums noncommittally. “Don’t worry about Stark. He is an asset to the Avengers, and I will do all I can to ensure his safety.” 

“With all due respect Director Fury—he is not just an asset,” Peter says. Too afraid of what else might come from his mouth, come straight up from that dark place inside of him fueled by fear and anger and hurt, Peter lets his feet guide him back to the elevator. Without asking, FRIDAY takes him up to Tony’s penthouse. When Tony gets back, Peter plans to move back in (so long as the older man wants him to). He tells himself that again and again. When Tony gets back. When. 

Peter sits and he waits.

[derpcakes]

So we watched (nay, Experienced) the BBC/Netflix Dracula series

Brought to us by everyone’s favourite team, Steve Moff and Mark Gatiss, promising to be an innovative and exciting new vision of the classic novel

Boy it was definitely something!!!

First I will say: obviously Moff is not my favourite TV writer and my fam and I did go into this with a bias. I’m happy to report, though, that it’s going to be one of these shows that haunts me forever, because if it had just been bad I could have said “bleh” and deleted it from my brain. But because parts of this were genuinely cool, interesting, and fun, and parts of it genuinely had potential, all the bits that were bad stand out as so much worse and the whole thing feels as cursed as a 500 year old undead count. 

Things that were enjoyable and well put-together:

Van Helsing has been gender-swapped into a vampire-hunting nun and her cat-and-mouse game with Dracula is rife with belligerent sexual tension. I was ready to hate this, and ready for like, Sherlock and Irene Adler 2.0, but their dynamic was actually pretty fun to watch! Their power balance is kept even throughout most of the show, and Helsing is never struck down because of ~womanly failings~ or infantilised. She’s consistently really clever and, even if there are some cringey one-liners, I found her and Draccy’s playful quest to murder each other one of the most fun parts of the show. It could’ve been better, but it was enjoyable! (I also like how Helsing isn’t Young and Hot, but is a capable older lady, and her actor and Draccy’s even seem about the same age. Amazing)

The second episode is a spooky murder mystery/horror mini-movie on a ship, with a cast full of interesting characters who all had different things going on and different relationship dynamics that were compelling to watch. There’s even an interracial gay couple! And they’re like, written pretty sympathetically and to be layered and flawed in ways that didn’t feel too stereotypical! And they don’t die first!! Wack! I understand the bar is on the ground, but it’s still worth a mention

Some fun with vampire lore: Draccy absorbs knowledge and traits from people he drinks blood from (which is how he learns languages. Get Duolingo, dude, stop eating people), leading to the intriguing suggestion that myths like “vampires will die in sunlight” and “vampires are afraid of holy symbols” have kinda become real to him even if they don’t literally work, because he’s swallowed so many people to whom these superstitions and beliefs were law. I’m sure this isn’t the first time this has been done, but groundbreaking or no it was kinda neat

Things that were not enjoyable and well put-together:

EVERYTHING ELSE

Episode 1: a weird speedrun of most of the original novel, feat. weaponised nuns and a weird fixation on whether or not Jonathan Harker and Draccy boned. They did not. Dracula pops out of the body of a wolf and he’s Whole Ass Naked. Him and Van Helsing have a power play where she stands just on the threshold of a convent and calls him a little bitch, knowing he can’t come and get her. A knife is licked. 

Episode 2: aforementioned cool ship horror story. Definitely the best ep. It really makes me think about hbomb’s critique that Moff is pretty good at doing standalone stories (and pilots), but when things are tied into a bigger narrative things get zonkers. 

Episode 3: Things Get Zonkers!!

Let me just. Okay. I have the most to say about this one because this is where things really got batshit. And yet, also really boring? How does that figure? Anyway:

Dracula emerges from under the sea and finds that 123 years have passed and he’s now the star of a Modern AU. Upon setting foot on British sand he is immediately accosted by what appears to be an anti-vampire task force. There’s a helicopter. It is later explained how they knew to pounce on him at this exact moment, but holy god it was wild to watch the entire British Secret Service descend on this one wet bastard in a suit

The editing shifts aggressively in the direction of Sherlock. Mark Gattis is there playing an amazingly annoying character. There’s a fuckign.... Underground Secret Society devoted to studying vampires and they put Drac in a Designated Glass Prison for Smug Geniuses (also as seen in Sherlock). Van Helsing is dead but her great-great-grand-niece is played by the same actress and. Okay. Van Helsing, vampire hunting nun, possesses her descendent and rises through the ether to roast Drac one last time, and he’s DELIGHTED TO SEE HER AGAIN. 

And she has cancer, right, so her blood is poisonous when Draccy tries to bite her, but in the end, right, the end of the episode, right, the final shots of the show, he comes to a place where he’s willing to die, and she’s already dying, and so he drinks her blood and they die together on a table while cinematic metaphor vision shows them having sex in the middle of the sun

There was a badly CGI-ed vampire baby. Jonathan Harker falls from a tower and a scene later they flash back to this event by reversing the footage of him falling down, meaning we just see him go VWOOP up through the air, bouncing off the wall on the way. Van Helsing says the words “come boy, suckle” when she’s goading Drac into drinking her blood. The show sits in a weird middle ground where the characters talk about sex a lot (”dID yOu HaVe sExUaL iNterCOURSE with COUNT DRACULA?”) and Drac is clearly meant to be super magnetic and sexy but the characterisation and cinematography is not horny at all. People have these sexy-type dreams of their lover of choice when Drac is drinking their blood but even those are very boring and weirdly chaste, except of course for the final one where, if I  can take the chance to remind you, Van Helsing and Dracula have symbolic Mind Palace sex inside the centre of the solar system

I can’t speak too much on its quality as an adaptation since I actually haven’t read the book, but splitting the story so that some characters (the Harkers, Van Helsing) existed in the time the story is set, and some (Lucy, Dr Seward) exist in The Modern AU felt very strange. Was there any reason to set the third episode in modern times, apart from the fact that I guess they wanted to do their Sherlock thing again? Or, perhaps, because they wanted to do their Jekyll thing again?? Oh my god, that’s what the editing reminds me of - the small clips of Jekyll I’ve seen. The zooming. The slow-mo. The emphasis on The Monster Man’s weird goddamn teeth

(Also, I don’t really feel qualified to dig too deep into it, but I will say there felt something a bit uncomfortable about Lucy being black in this version, while also being written to be very promiscuous and vain. idk. Also, since it happened in an ep of Sherlock as well, “weedy white Nice Boy rescues the Very Cool woman of colour he has a tragically unrequited crush on” is now an official Moffattis trope)

Count Moffatula is an experience. Its pacing is buck wild. The speeding through the original plot and the mish-mashing of elements in the Modern AU section feels like another expression of contempt for the source material on Moff’s part. Someone says “reality is overrated” in a show set in the 1890s. Draccy quotes a Beatles song. He also makes quippy allusions to having eaten various famous figures and basically winks at the camera every time. Granted, this wasn’t as obnoxious as I was maybe expecting, but there are still too many lines of dialogue where you think “oh, the writers high-fived each other after they wrote that one, huh”. The fact that Moff has such vitriol against fan fic writers is more and more grating every day because this is so, so clearly a zany-ass fanfic that he happens to be getting paid for. The costumes are nowhere near as nice as they could have been, and Dracula’s cape looks like his mum made it for him for the school play in which he is playing Dracula. 

This show is So Much. Watch it to share in this fever dream. Or don’t, and save approximately 5 hours of your life. God. 5 hours. Who was I before Count Maffatula. Who am I now. Why was his cape so bloody ugly. Why did they bone in the centre of the sun

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Monster, Episodes 43-44

Just a short one tonight! In which Grimmer reminds us why he’s so great, every answer drives us further into the darkness, and JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING

Grimmer’s Glimmer

The experience of watching Monster is like being backed further and further into an increasingly dark corner. The more the plot thickens, the more claustrophobic and choking it becomes, as secrets pile on secrets and the street lights start flicking with increasing desperation. Even the space feels tighter now, as the alleys and roads of the Czech republic are bunched far closer together than the more sprawling streets of Germany, and our characters’ journeys increasingly take them down the grimiest, most shadowed walkways there. So thank god for a guy like Grimmer, probably the most wholly positive beacon of light in the entire show. Even after just an episode and a half of separation, seeing his face again as he brought all those scattered kids together for a friendly game of soccer was like suddenly remembering to breathe again: I’m so goddamn happy he’s okay. Even if he might have a Mr Hyde raging inside him, his Dr. Jekyll is such a revitalizing person to be around that I don’t mind the risk. And it’s really kind of remarkable how quickly Monster made me fall in love with him after just four episodes.

I think what really stands out about Grimmer is that he’s the most genuine person in the cast. Everyone else is grappling with darkness so palpable that hey have to hide behind a million layers of briar-sharp defense mechanisms, but Grimmer made peace with his demons a long time ago. Now, all he can do is commit to being the best person he can possibly be and live a life full of light and hope, to make up for how much of that he lacked in the past. And he’s really goddamn good at it. Even hunted down by police, he makes time to hang out with a bunch of kids and play soccer with them, not just faking it for their sake but actually enjoying it (”Grimmer coming in for the steal!”) He has no pretensions, no hang-ups, no reason to be anything less than his genuine self and share a little love wherever he goes to make the world just that much better. As a result, he acts as an incredible bulwark to the rest of the show’s darkness. He’s a beacon of light where for once, you don’t have to be double-or-triple checking yourself with concerns at how wrong everything eventually going to go. You can just relax with him around, knowing that he has your best interests at heart. That goes for the characters in the show too; Detective Suk only needs to hold a single conversation with him to know he isn’t the killer we’re looking for. And yet, he’s also still aware enough of his dark past to try and help Suk through his own first encounters with the true ugliness of the job, offering some necessary perspective on how to keep faith in a world that so often seems to want to stamp it out of you. The world could use more people like Mr. Grimmer. Frankly, I’m jealous he’s got it so figured out.

And now, he’s forged a wary alliance with one of the policemen chasing him down, bringing them one step closer to finding the safety deposit box where the answers to this whole dark mystery lie. Somehow or other, we’re getting to the bottom of this mess, no matter what horrors wait for us at the end.

Down the Dark Alleyway

Speaking of which, we’ve found the Three Frogs! Turns out it was in reference to a long-defunct bar, a relic of the communist regime, one of countless ghosts that haunt this show’s narrative like a whisper in the back of your mind. And it was above this bar, it seems, that Johann and Anna’s family lived, a mother and her two children. Or rather, her one child, as the locals believed; and here’s where the darkness really starts thickening. By the time they were living there, she was already using an alias, hiding from the oppressive government for some unknown crime that could range from genuine revolutionary tendencies to “whatever bullshit the authoritarians scraped off the back of a cookie tin.” And her neighbors only ever believed she had one child with her, a child taken away with her when the government finally tracked her down. But someone was still there. The other twin escaped the government’s clutches and burned the apartment down before heading out on their own.

And there are so many questions this raises I barely know where to start. Why did their mother act like there was only one child? Which one was taken away, and which one escaped? It would make sense if Johann was the one who stayed behind and burned the house down, but then how did he end up in the Kinderheim? And how the hell did their mother end up here in the first place? What in her past instigated this sorry state of affairs? Not to mention how all of this ties in to the remnants of the Czech secret police that Johann seems to have gotten mixed up in. The guys Grimmer tore apart said they were fighting for Johann’s sake, but the ones we uncover at the police station don’t seem to know anything about him. So how did Johann insert himself into their power struggle, and why did he not try and seek out all of them? There are just too many questions swirling around in my head to make sense of it all just yet. The more of this mystery we unravel, the less ready I feel to descend to the next level. Every further step hints at darker and darker truths yet to come spilling out, and I can only imagine what the entire picture’s gonna look like one’s it’s finally complete.

But those answers might be coming sooner than later.

Because one of those lost twins has finally made their way back home.

Trust No One

Which leads me to the end of episode 44, possibly the show’s best moment so far: the reveal that the “Nina” we’d been spending time with over the past two episodes was actually Johann in a disguise. Jesus. Fucking. CHRIST. You ever have one of those moments where something is so absurdly terrifying that it wraps right back around to being hilarious at the same time? Yeah, holy crap. I can’t even begin to describe how loudly I started cackling here. I think I almost hacked a lung right out of my chest. Fucking criminy Christmas, that was perfect. That was one of the most perfectly executed reveals I’ve seen in a while. Because all throughout the previous episodes, you’re really nervous that Nina’s turning to the dark side because of all the hints it’s dropping that she’s the one who’s been going around killing people, and the way she’s worming her way into Suk’s heart makes it seem she just building up to let him down, but then the wig comes off and suddenly everything makes sense. It was Johann who executed all those murders while disguised as his beautiful sister (and once again, he shows no remorse at offing his supposed supporters). It was Johann who slipped the creepy chief detective that poisoned candy to kill him, just like he did at the hospital all those years ago. It was Johann who was so expert as pushing Suk’s pressure points, manipulating him into blurting out the information he needed to hear by playing to his romantic fantasies. Hell, hasn’t everyone said in the past that the twins had really similar faces? And now I’m looking back and realizing that yeah, that was totally Johann’s face on “Nina” in the past couple episodes and I just didn’t goddamn realize it because I’m an IDIOT.

Yeah, that was great. That was one of the most deliciously cruel twists I’ve seen in a while. And now, Johann knows there’s one last record of his past out there to wipe off the face of the Earth. The sun keeps sinking lower, the shadows keep growing thicker, and the monster inside keeps growing bigger. We’re really in the thick of it now, boys. God help us all.

Odds and Ends

-And that’s why you don’t try to throw your weight around as a rookie. You end up throwing it all back up.

-”We have a staff meeting early tomorrow morning.” askjdhas he’s scaring them all off.

-Suk does not deserve his wingmen.

-Pre-tty convenient the key to the exposition locker hadn’t been cleaned out of the desk yet.

-”I know, I feel sick just saying it.” I feel sick just hearing it. God, it’s never hard when your idol reveals himself to be just a man.

-Ooooooh Christ, I forgot about his fingernails. Ack. Me no likey.

-”Hey, I’m old, cut me some slack!” I LOVE HIM.

-”You don’t have to laugh that much!” God dammit he’s such a dork

Oh man, things are really getting good. See you next time!

[farcryfuckmeup]

The Three Kings: Prologue

i took those likes as a yes ya’ll want me to post my non-far cry fic and either way if you don’t like it just keep scrolling homies, cause i got some gucci far cry 5 content coming soon anyways (  ͡°  ͜ʖ ͡°) i’ll add this to my masterlist here 

word count: 1,072

tw: abuse, mentions of abuse, implied abuse

PROLOGUE: ORDINARY PEOPLE

“Heroes are ordinary people who make themselves extraordinary.” -Gerard Way

♛

The night howled with strong gusts of wind, threatening to knock over trees that had been standing strong for decades. Despite the weather, a boy no older than thirteen took cover behind a hedge as another burst shook the branches above him. He untied a sweatshirt from around his waist so that it wouldn’t drag in the dirt, re-tied the arms around his neck, then got down on one knee. 

He scolded himself for not bringing another sweatshirt—it was 8 o'clock at night, the sun had set, and the weatherman had predicted heavy winds. The boy reached up and adjusted a red beanie that covered his jet black hair. At least I came somewhat prepared, he thought to himself with a shiver. He wanted to leave, go home and bundle up near the fire, but he couldn’t. Every single muscle in his body fought to stay exactly where he was and suck it up. The young teen kept his gaze trained on a house across the street from his hiding spot, ready to jump at any sound of distress. In his right hand was a handful of marble-sized rocks, and he had another rock the size of a softball in his left hand.

From the outside, the house looked like it belonged in a fairytale, and quite frankly so did the inside. But those were just the physical aspects of the house. The kid’s body tensed as he heard the sound of metal clattering to the floor, followed by yelling that echoed out into the street.

“How in the bloody hell do you burn pizza! You’re twelve goddamn years old!” The boy’s eyes widened at the amount of rage in the man’s voice. 

He got to his feet and started to creep out from behind the shrubs. A shiver ran down his spine as the scream of a young girl pierced the calm silence that had previously been settled across the neighborhood.

He felt a sense of urgency when the girl began to cry and say, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” While the boy ran towards the house, his fingers curled around the smaller set of rocks. He lifted his arm into the air and flung them against a large window as soon as he got close enough to the house. When he heard them tinkle against the glass, an expression of anger formed on his face as he threw the larger rock into the window as hard as he could. Glass rained to the ground while shattering into millions of pieces.

The boy grinned as adrenaline began to pump through his veins, but he made a mad dash for his hiding spot when he heard a man swear in frustration. As soon as he slid behind the bushes, the front door was thrown open, and a man stormed out into the yard. He was a giant—taller than he’d been expecting—and looked extremely intimidating. A snarl covered the gentleman’s features, twisting them in an ugly way. He was dressed in a suit, reminding the boy of the outfit his father wore to work.

He was a real-life Jekyll and Hyde. A monster.

“Where the hell are you, you little punk!” He roared into the empty street, desperately looking for someone to punish for the broken window. The man turned and stormed back inside the house, but as soon as his boot had landed on the front porch, the back gate had creaked open. 

Then the kid saw her. His chest went numb as he forgot how to breathe, anger and grief knotting his stomach when a young girl limped out from behind the wooden gate and closed it as quietly as she could. 

She flinched as something crashed from within the house and started to walk faster, desperately trying to put distance between herself and the house. The boy panicked and darted out from the bushes, gently grabbing the girl from behind, and covering her mouth with his hand. 

“Sh, sh. It’s okay, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re safe.” He whispered in her ear softly while moving her ginger hair from her face. Her fearful cries began to calm as she turned her head to the side at the familiar voice.

She recognized the oval shape of the boy’s face and the way his jaw narrowed into his chin.

“Quentin? What are you doing here?” The girl whispered firmly, but fear shone in her silver and brown eyes.

“Let’s worry about that later,” He paused and they both jumped as the front door slammed open, but they felt a shred of relief when they realized they were still hidden in the shadows of a tree cluster. “Let’s go.” Quentin handed the sweatshirt to Scarlette and helped her put it on, then knelt down again so that she could climb on his back. The small smile on her face let him know that she was grateful for the gesture, considering she’d only been in a long sleeve and pajama shorts, he was glad he’d brought it for her.

Once she was on his back in piggyback fashion, he stood up and walked briskly along the shadows until he got to his original hiding spot. Further down it had direct access to an intersection, and that’s where they headed.

“Where are we going?” Scarlette asked softly as Quentin carried her through the bushes.

“To my house,” Quentin felt her stiffen against his back and he shook his head, some of his black hair falling into his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s just Cody and I.” Silence fell over the two for a few moments before the girl spoke up quietly, almost as if she were ashamed. “How did you know?”

“Educated guess,” Quentin was silent for a few beats, then his grip on Scarlette’s legs tightened. “I kept noticing things and started to get worried. So, I did some research and compared it to what I’d observed. You’d be gone from school for a few days even though you almost never get sick. Then there was one time the make-up on your arm washed off in art class.” He explained and Scarlette sighed softly before kissing the top of Quentin’s head.

“Thank you for paying attention to me.” It was an odd thing to say, she knew that, but he understood. He always did. 

Thank you for noticing the things I hide, the things other people don’t notice. Thank you for completely knowing me.

[thewritingmage]

Ventilation Mishaps

Hiya! This fic is part of the Wolf 359 Reverse Big Bang! My artist was @aspectnotarized and their art is pretty awesome! So I totally suggest you check out their tumblr!

Plus this project was so much fun so thanks to the @w359reversebang mods for organizing and hosting everything! They’re amazing!

Note: I tried, I hope I did okay at the very least. 

Fandom: Wolf 359

Words: 3,205

Summary:  When Eiffel woke up this morning, all he wanted was to do was escape Minkowski's Quarterly Annual Talent Show. He did not mean to fall into a secret room, find creepy crawlies with too many eyes, and secrets that decided to change the way he sees their resident scientist.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709791

           “Hello Dear Listeners! This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel. It’s day 525 of the Hephaestus Mission. And I am in the ventilation shafts.” Eiffel said, faux chirpy attitude in his voice. “A ventilation shaft that I’m pretty sure just loves me.”

          At that snarky remark, Eiffel dipped head first into a slanting vent. With a yelp, he proceeded to crash straight into a silver wall. A resounding bang left his ears in ringing pain. He sat up as much as he could in the enclosed space, rubbing at his head in agony.

          “Ouch, fuck. That’s gonna leave a bruise. A goddamn painful bruise but I will still be avoiding our very own Dr. Jekyll when this all cools over. Back to what I was saying beforehand, Dear Listeners. Today is day 525 and it is a day I cannot wait for to be over.” After adjustments to the mic, Eiffel got back down on his stomach. He crawled in the only direction the vent allowed him to.

          He grunted with the effort to pull himself through the dust covered vents. Another turn in the shafts came up. Eiffel groaned at the sight of it.

          “Well, we’re having one of those days at the station. A very very bad one. I mean, every day is a good day with me around, I am the epitome of the days around here. However, today is one of the days that I stay indoors, don’t need to get caught outdoors in a storm, am I right?”

          A soft chime played in the headphones that circled his neck. Eiffel froze, eyes wide in fear as the one voice he was avoiding came through.

          “Crew of the Hephaestus, this is Commander Minkowski. As I know that you are all keenly aware, it is time for our quarterly talent show. You all know that I am aware that you know it is mandatory to come. Since no one was in the cargo bay, I do hope none of you are hiding out right now but are all getting ready for the talent show.” One and only commander of the crew cleared her throat. “So, as I stand in the coms room, to which I hope I just missed you Eiffel, I better not find anyone hiding out in the storeroom or any laboratory.”

          “Ha! Storeroom idea was denied!” Eiffel crowed his success.

           “I hope to see both of you down in here the cargo bay in twenty minutes. If not, I will hunt you down.” Minkowski finished her monologue threat with a click of the PA chimes.

          “Anarchist.” Eiffel mumbled under his breath as he started to move forward again.

          Another slant in the vent came up and Eiffel guffawed at the vent. He tsked a finger at it. He twisted around till he had his feet going down first, not wanting to get caught in that trick again. A ping went through his headphones as he slid down the vent, feet steadied him as he arrived in an open area. Eiffel made a noncommittal noise when a thought came across him.

          “I wonder where our resident evil scientist is even doing today, dear Listeners.”

          A crackle of static burst sharply in the headset, making the man wearing them cringe.

          “Eiffel, are you there?” Russian accent pierced through the otherwise silent vent.

          “Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hilbert! How’s it going, Doc? Chewing any carrots today?” Eiffel joked as he sat down in the open space.

          “Eiffel, there is no carrots on station. I could not have been eating carrots today.” Hilbert answered, confused.

          The only communications officer on board leant into his palm, “Never mind. What’s up, Doc?”

          The sound of clinking glass echoed through the headphones, “I have come up with solution to our ‘Talent Show’ situation.”

          Eiffel hummed in acknowledgement, a hand snuck into his side pocket as he pulled out a bag. He popped a cigarette candy into his mouth and leaned back against the wall. Hilbert continued, “Give me moment, Eiffel. I need to be precise with this.” A fizzing sound made Eiffel pause on the biting of his candy.

          “Woah, woah. What exactly are you doing?” Eiffel asked.

          “It has been while but I remember I have degree in biochemistry. A handy degree in my experiment today.” Hilbert said, clinking of glasses clear through the headset microphone. “I have decided to make a narcotic and sedative, very powerful.”

          The human in the vent shaft rubbed his forehead, eyes closed and mouth set in a line. “Doc, you know we have gone over this. You don’t need to go all evil scientist on us yet.”

          Hilbert only chuckled at that, the sound of pressure being closed off let Eiffel know the Russian had sealed his fate. Eiffel sighed. He peered down at one of the three entrances that lead into darkness. “Okay Captain Nemo, I gotta go before I’m forced into the Temple of Doom.”

          Hilbert hummed into his mic, “I have completed sedation anyways, I will report later results.” The buzzer ended the conversation.

          “Well, I can’t wait to see that result. For now, we need to get to a better hidey spot. Which shall it be? Creepy dusty shaft number one, darkness looming shaft number two, or definitely-not-hotel-cleaned shaft number three!” Eiffel gestured in a grand sweeping motion as he announced into his recording.

          Only the creaking of the Hephaestus answered the communications officer. He swung his flashlight towards the middle. Grimacing at the darkness that led ahead,

          “We have a winner! Shaft number two is our winner! Come along, Listeners. We shall go on a very dirty adventure.” Eiffel said, flamboyance gone as he got to his hands and knees.

          Flashlight and recording device his sole companions in the darkness.

          It was a brisk twenty minutes later, when Eiffel once again ran head first into a dead end. His flashlight clattered to the floor that made him freeze as the sound echoed throughout the distant ventilation system. He didn’t move for a few seconds before he scrambled to grab the flashlight. He held it close to his chest as a ding of his coms lit up his earphones. As he straightened up, his head set fell, the only man around reached for it as the voice of their resident scientist spoke.

          “Eiffel? Eiffel, are you there? Complications have arisen!” Hilbert's frantic voice rose through the speakers.

          Eiffel scrambled to get the headset. His flashlight bobbed against the grey. His hands skimmed over the receiving end of the com before they grabbed it. He clutched at it as a loud creak groaned under him, he held his breath as the creaking began to settle into a low moan before it went silent.

          “That doesn’t sound good. Okay, if I just reach slowly across…” A deep groan reverted throughout the area, Eiffel stood still. Took a slow breath…and shot his hand out, grabbed the headset, and curled up till the groaning stop. Everything settled. “Okay, Listeners, I think everything is under control...gotta check on Hilbert.”

          The buzzer broke through the silence. “Eiffel. This is urgent!”

          A second voice came on the coms as Eiffel placed the headset around his neck, volume jacked up. “Hiiilbert. Where did you gooo?”

          A frantic whimper echoed, “This is an ur-zzzzz-atter! I need emergen-zzzzz-ack up-zzzz-”

          The communications officer looked down at the headphones, confusion across his face. He tweaked the small signal booster. “What? Doc I can’t hear you. Something is blocking the signal-”

          Creaaaaak.

          Eiffel’s eyes widen.

          Crack!

          His mouth gaped as a crack in the vent broke in front of him.

          Bang!

With a snap forward, Eiffel flew into darkness.

          God, why was it so dark? Eiffel thought as pain hit him. He blearily opened his eyes, trying and failing to find any good light source in front of him. Blackness circled him. He shut his eyes again as a weight on top of him gained his awareness. He sat up, pieces of metal fell of him into piles on the floor. Squinted eyes caught a beam of light, he turned and pushed off pieces of vent from the torch.

          “Why the hell is there so much gravity here….” Eiffel mumbled as he got up.

          He raised his hand up to his ear, pressing lightly on it as he spoke. “Hera? You there?”

          Only static responded to him. He frowned and tried again. “Hey Doc, are you receiving?”

          Static once again responded, “Goddamn it...well, Dear Listeners. You guys are the only ones listening in now. I’m going to explore and see how to get out or how to unblock this signal.”

          He swung his flashlight around, light illuminating a series of computer screens and lab tables in a surprisingly large room. The communications officer kicked a few stray metal pieces away. Curiosity made him wander towards the cabinets and lab tables covered in a thick layer of dust. With one finger he dragged it through the dust as he shined his light at the glass cabinets. Jars, full of floating specimens that he swears twitched at him, glinted back at him ominously.

           One jar in particular stood out. Coated in copious amounts of dust, he reached a hand out to pick up the jar. He tilted the light, a floating monstrosity sat in the liquid. Eiffel shuddered at the sight of it. A swish in the container made the human pull it closer to him for examination.

           “What are you-” In a blink of an eye, the spider-like creature turned a full one-eighty on him. A multitude of eyes stared as it attached itself to the glass in a loud thump. “HOLY SHI-” Glass crashed under his feet as Eiffel screeched. Instinct making him let go of the jar in fright.

           He scrambled away, flashlight aimed at the experiment. It only stared up at him, it’s dozen eyes blinking in unison at his paleness. It began to skitter to the down man before said human through his one and only flashlight at it with a scream of, “HELL NO, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, TOTO.”

           The thing hissed at him before it ran in the opposite direction, disappearing into the darkness that was of this mysterious room. Eiffel’s’ lungs shook at the effort to take in air, eyes focused on the flashlight a few feet away. If he concentrated, he could hear the skittering sounds of the spider.

           “Why spiders? Why couldn’t it be butterflies?” Eiffel grumbled as he stood a bit shakily. “I’ll just hope that incident is purged from my mind by tonight.”

           Eiffel secured his flashlight once more and turned away from the lab area. His attention shifted away to the outdated computers across the room. He quickly scooted around tables and headed towards them. Flashlight set down to face the console, Eiffel rubbed his hands together. “Now, now. What do we have here?”

           Brown eyes focused on the keyboard laid out. He cracked his knuckles and began. Typing in codes to wake up the computer. “Come on you hunk of junk, I want to know all your secrets.”

          A blue screen loaded. Text popped up: Computer start up? Y/N

          Eiffel scoffed, “Of course. Let’s enter the Matrix.”

          The screen booted up, several terminal screens lit up in unison. Brightening the room and catching the officer’s attention. All the screens showed logs that had been previously recorded. They glowed red, dates labeled upon them. “This…. this is weird. There are audio logs on this computer. I’m clicking on this first one, oldest it seems. Blast from the past, volume one. Here we go.”

          Click

          Static popped and a voice, loud and clear, came through.

         “Hephaestus Station. Captain Isabel Lovelace here.”

          Her somber tone made chills crawl up Eiffel’s spine. A terrible gut feeling awoke in him, something wasn’t going to go right.

          Four logs.

          Four logs with loss of crew, sickness, and oddities that could and did boggle the mind.

          Eiffel didn’t know what to say.

           Eiffel breathed. “Two more logs, Listeners. Two more.” He raised his eyes at the original screen. “Volume five of these accursed logs. I swear this is worse than opening that Ark.”

          Click

          “Captain's Log. U.S.S. Hephaestus Station. Final entry.” Her voice held no room for cowardice or weakness, it stood firm with malice. “Run and hide. That's all I have to say to you. Run. And. Hide. Because I'm coming for all you bastards. You probably thought you'd never see me again. You thought if you just left us up here you could forget all about us. Out of sight, out of mind, huh? Jokes on you. You bastards killed most of my crew, but I'm still alive, and Dr. Selberg is still alive, and we have a way to get off this tin can. It's taken months, but we found a way. It's not gonna be pretty. It's not gonna be fast. But we'll make it back to Earth, and the first thing we're going to do as soon as we get home is find everyone involved in this sadistic little field-trip and make you pay. So, if you're listening to this: Run. And. Hide. Because by the time that I'm done you will feel more helpless and more alone than all the innocent people you've ever hurt. See you soon.”

          Eiffel stared at the screen. His mind a pot full of mixed reactions and confused thoughts. His mouth opened and closed. Never deciding one or the other. His voice caught. “Captain Lovelace. I hope to the goddamn heavens you’re out there. I hope you and Selberg have made it through all this shit.”

          He shook himself and faced the screen. He had to do this. He had to find out.

          He clicked the mouse. He tried to prepare himself.

          “C’mon Eiffel. Be the Yoda you were always meant to be.”

          It wasn’t working.

          The recording started to play.

          "This is Captain Lovelace of the USS Hepha-” A distant knocking interrupted the beginning of her speech. “It’s…. It’s open!”

           A new voice entered, lower and rougher to the ears, with an accent tinged on. A very familiar accented voice. “Captain? Is this a bad time?”

Eiffel’s jaw dropped. His mind racing at that voice. It couldn’t have been him.

          “No, no. You’re fine, Selberg. Just was trying to get some logs going. What’s going on?” Lovelace answered, a relief beneath her question.

          “Everything is ready. We can head downstairs when you are.” One sentence and Eiffel knew.

          Eiffel shook his head, backing away from the console with mutters that grew louder.  “No….no….no! It can’t be Hilbert! It can’t-”

          Suddenly the coms set around his neck buzzed to life. The voice of their only scientist crackled to life. “Eiffel! Please respond! Situation has gone critical and I am trapped!”

          Panic bloomed across his mind, he ripped the headset away from his neck and threw it as far as he could. It only bounced off the adjacent wall, still spewing static and Hilbert’s hails. Eiffel’s back hit his side of the wall. His mouth gaped, his lungs frozen. This couldn’t be...why would Hilbert be Selberg? How did he survive? Where is Lovelace?

          Thoughts raced through his head, crashing into one another without abandon. His view of their resident scientist tilting so hard on its axis, his vision blurred to the point that he slid down the wall. Hands coming up to hold his head as the dizziness rocked him.

          White light fizzled into existence, Eiffel was far too gone in his own head to notice. The two opaque blurs moved around the room, projected light particles trailing after them. They engaged each other in what could be conversation. The taller of the two sat down in a nonexistent chair, leaning her face up at the other. “Thank you, Dr. Selberg. This has been hard but I am glad you’re here.”

          “Can’t be….” Eiffel said, fetal form curled tighter into itself as the holographic recording played and the headset let out one last burst of Hilbert’s terrified scream.

The standing figure only inclined his head. “Always happy to be of assistance.”

          The room was buried in darkness, every inch dripped with inkiness. The barest of illuminations alighted the room. A dulling, white light cast itself over a huddle form in the corner. At a glance, the man looked frozen. As if death itself had touched him with the way his skin has turned pale from his natural darken skin. With hands over ears, the man tuned out the glitching figures by the console. One phrase in constant repetition.  

                                        “Always happy to be of assistance.”

          A multitude of instruments were scattered around the console. None of them the right ones to stop the broken line. Across the room, the only door was sealed tight. Marks and other tools scattered around it too. The door itself bore numerous dents and scratch marks but no mark or sign of a successful open entrance. Only dust particles floated in the air, disturbed by the only visitor.

          The line stuttered, only one syllable stuck like a broken record. Eiffel glanced up, mind already forming a plan to get the radio working. Realizing this was his chance since the signal was blocked no more. He reached beside himself, headset in hand, to grab a small tool. Quickly, he dismantled the headphone casing. He pulled wires out and cut few in half. The voice in the background gained more of its sentence.

                                                  “Always-Always….”

          Eiffel eyed the white obstructions, “Oh fuck off! You can’t come over and try to drag me to the Dark Side forever!” he yelled at the two white figures.

           The headphone sparked brightly as two wires were connected. A static laced voice broke through. Eiffel smiled as the signal became stronger. He pulled his knees closer to him as a shiver racked his body. He raised the headset further, ignoring the penetrating cold.

           “India-Golf-Niner-Niner, do you copy?” Eiffel said, heart beating fast.

          “Ei-zzz-el? Can you hear me-zzz-?” Hera’s sweet voice filtered through, Eiffel sighed in relief.

          “Yes! I copy! God, you do not know how nice it is to hear your voice, Hera.” Eiffel answered. “Could you open this damn door? Please?”

          Hera paused for a few moments before she answered. “Aren’t...you outside?”

           He looked baffled, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “No, I’m inside some room. It’s as big as the observatory.”

          Hera’s humming went a few octaves higher. “I’m going to get-get Minkowski… actually I’m going to get Hilbert because M-Minkowski is… a bit preoccupied.”

           “No!” Eiffel yelled, body jerking forward to stop a non-existent force. “I mean, don’t get Hilbert. Just...just help me find my way through the vents again?”

           “Of course, Officer Eiffel.” Hera said, a quiet tone set.

           “You’re the best. You know that, right?” Eiffel said as he got up and scooted around the figures who still stuttered.

           “I know.” Eiffel could practically hear the smirk in her tone as he searched for something tall enough.

           “Thanks, Hera.” Eiffel mumbled before he exclaimed a happy sound when he found something for the perfect height.

           Hera spoke with quirk of fondness as Selberg’s repeated mantra broke. “I’m always happy to be of assistance, Officer Eiffel.”

                                                       - Le Fini -

[artificialqueens]

Cupid’s Blind Arrow (Group Fic) Chapter 5 ~ Ginger Nut

A/N: schools been stressing me the fuck out recently and prelims are coming up so sorry if I don’t update as frequently

Since Miss raja had handed out the assignment, most of the pairs had only met once. Some, like Willam and Sharon, had not met at all. Unsurprisingly, Willam has been giving her a cold shoulder of some sort, favouring Alaska in the ongoing feud between the two. There hadn’t been any big blow outs since, but nothing had been resolved either. Sharon still kept her head down in classes, engraving doodles into her desk; Alaska threw herself into her work continuing to ace every single one of her classes. Bianca and Adore had nearly finished their assignment two weeks early. This was unheard of for Adore, but something about her partner motivated her, lit a fire inside of her. Usually, Adore went to Bianca’s after school. Bianca rarely went to Adores – not because she didn’t want to be there, but because she couldn’t work well while sitting in a sunken bean bag in a room decorated with leftovers. Trixie and Katya were making slow progress; they met in the library every Tuesday after school but got sidetracked and listened to the ironic librarian telling story after story about her personal life. Violet and Pearl hadn’t met outside of school, but they’d met in the library over a couple of lunchtimes. They both had such busy schedules, with Pearl staying most nights after school for art study and Violet juggling media study and aerial classes. They talked over text a lot though and had gotten quite close. They were now each other’s top best friend on snapchat. “This filter looks like your face” Violet captioned one day, as the filter gave her the face of a sloth. “At least I don’t look like this” Pearl snapped back, now with her faced comedically stretched out. The pair went on like this all day, every day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Willam walked across her kitchen counter, it was 22:30 and she’d only finished structuring her plan for the assignment. You’re going to have to see that bitch some time, better be prepared so there’s no awkward silence while I try to keep my hands off of her throat she thought as she made herself coffee. She stood in an oversized t shirt that was some guys she hooked up with once, but never gave it back. Meh, he’ll have other shirts Willam shrugged. Seating herself at the island in the middle of the room, she put down her coffee and logged onto her laptop. Her phone buzzed. It was Sharon. “Hey listen, we really should get started on this whole assignment. When suits?” The sound of fresh acrylics tapping on a screen emerged as Willam typed out a reply while her laptop loaded. “I’m good to do any days after school apart from Fridays, not lunch times though. Can’t leave Lask on her own.” Willam re-read that final sentence before thinking fuck it and hit send. “Probably shouldn’t have gone there but hey,” she said to herself “I’m not the one who fucked up.” As one hand raked through her naturally curly mane and another scrolled through Facebook updates, Willams face lit up at the sight of a certain notification.

Caught in the act would like to FaceTime

After clicking accept, Willam saw Courtney’s glowing smile appear on the screen. “Wills! Hi! I’ve missed your face!” She exclaimed. Willam felt a warmth grow inside of her in response to her comment. “Hey girl. How’s life back in the dunny?” she asked, giving her best Courtney impression. Courtney chuckled, “it’s okay but it would be so much better if you were here too. I’ve got no one to tutor now!” “Yeah that’s because you go to a private school where everyone is crazy fucking smart.” Willam leaned onto the counter of the island, cupping her face with her hands. Courtney rolled her eyes as she giggled, the position of the camera slightly moving, giving Willam a clear view of a familiar shirt covering Courtney’s chest. “Is that my motherfucking Gucci?” She screamed, “I’ve been looking for thaaaaaaat” Willam drawled out the last word, feigning sadness. Well, she was partly annoyed but there was something about seeing Courtney, on the other side of the world, still with her that overpowered any annoyance. “How do you even have that?” Courtney hugged herself and smiled. “I thiiiiink, it was the night I stayed over last minute.” She explained a huge grin appearing. “And I just, never gave it back I guess.” Willam shook her head. She spun around on her stool purely to hide the ever growing blush on her cheeks. “What?” The aussie questioned, suddenly intrigued as to why the girl on the screen had spun around more than 5 times. Willam stopped and gazed at Courtney. Her eyes contained a whole galaxy. An ever changing colour, they framed the girl’s face so perfectly. Willam never wanted to look away, never wanted the picture in front of her to leave. Willam found her heart fluttering in a way it never did. People didn’t phase Willam, so why did Courtney still have so much power over her? Especially when she wasn’t even here with Willam. Courtney tapped the screen, making a clicking sound come over Willam’s laptop speakers, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Hellooo, are you still there?” “I…I just…” Willam stuttered. She looked down to meet Courtney’s eyes again. Willam picked at her nails and traced her hands, remembering where Courtney’s used to fit. “I really miss you. That’s all.” “Really?” Courtney raised an eyebrow. “You miss the 4 hour English lessons?” “You used to bring chocolates,” Willam smiled at the memory. Courtney mirrored her. “You miss me singing quotes to you at midnight?” “We would be home alone,” she glanced over to the mass of her tiled floor, remembering the blonde girl performing musical acts of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and To kill a Mockingbird. “You miss answering paper after paper of textual analysis?” Courtney cocked her head to the side, twirling her hair which was in a high ponytail. Her voice was sweet, like candy. “Okay bitch,” Willam gave in, “you got me there. I HATED those.” The pair broke out in laughter thinking back to numerous nights when Willams profanity over past papers got so extreme they had to take a break. “I don’t fucking know why they used the word emancipation, why should I? They’re the dicks who wrote it. I shit you not Miss Act, I’m seriously never gonna need this. Like, not one Tom, Dick or Harry in the goddamn street is gonna come up and be like; what did you think of the word choice in paragraph 4?” Courtney and Willam talked until their hearts were content. They missed each other terribly, but times like these they treasured greatly and no one could take those hours away from them. Their conversation would change from friends, to tv shows, to memories they had, to…. well, anything. “Nah I just don’t see it Wills” “Why the fuck not? Me, you, and Alaska; walking down the runway in Chachki’s fashion line” “Wait, I still don’t get how Violet got a fashion line” Courtney was tired, rubbing her eyes before cursing as she remembered putting mascara and eyeliner on this morning. Willam sighed, “It’s not a real one her class is doing it as part of their exam. They have to create stuff.” She stood up from her barstool and positioned herself far away from the camera. “Me, you and lask,” she pointed to two other points each side of her, placing herself in the middle. “We walk down,” She strutted across her kitchen floor, “we pose like there’s no tomorrow.” She placed her hands on her hips and threw her hair, striking different poses for Courtney. Wolf whistles came from the laptop, encouraging the model. “We wave to the crowd,” Willam gave a sly, over the shoulder smile. “See it’s that simple.” Courtney yawned. The sky was starting to become dark outside her window and she glanced at the time, 19:41. She hadn’t even eaten dinner, still had to shower and had a mountain of work to do. But none of that mattered, a girl in the computer was pretending to be a model in her kitchen while wearing a faded Oasis t shirt and Victoria secret satin shorts. What a dork she thought to herself, smiling wholeheartedly. “One problem” Courtney interrupted Willam’s make believe fashion show. “I’m kinda in another continent” “We have planes bitch. Hop on one and come over.” “Willlllllls, I can’t just hop on a plane that quickly.” “Well you hopped on me pretty fast.” Willam crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, “What’s stopping you?” As nonchalant as ever, Courtney thought. “Exams, my family, graduation, my 18th! Did I mention exams?” Willam didn’t see the big deal, scrunching up her face at Court’s phony problems. “The flight’s long - study then. You’ve literally seen your family since birth, trust me they can last a couple months without you. You’ll be back in time for exams. I’ll throw you a mad party, I know a guy who’s got a wicked venue. And yeah, you did mention that.” Courtney’s face didn’t change, she didn’t see a logical reason to go to America again so soon aside from seeing her Wills. “At least say you’ll think about it, pleeeeease?” Clutching her hands together Willam plastered her face with the biggest, cheesiest, full teeth smile she could muster. “Willam Belli? Are you begging?” With a serious humour Willam leaned forward and spoke straight into the webcam; “You want me on my knees? All you gotta do is ask.” The girls held each other in their eyes, shutting out everything. A special bond flickered between them, replenishing the passionate feelings they shared. Courtney’s voice was barely audible, her lips parting only slightly “I’ll talk to you later Wills, I gotta go.” Her voice was low and somewhat husky, igniting a fire in Willam. “Bye.” Willam’s laptop returned to Facebook where she could see her aunts latest update; Selling a Tiffany’s ring. $250. Hardly worn. Message me for any more details “Shit” Willam thought to herself, “Well that engagement didn’t last long did it Jackie?” As she scrolled down her feed she looked through some of Bianca’s photos she’d just uploaded, Willam couldn’t help but notice how many of them contained Adore. Just then her phone buzzed with a new message from Sharon. Wednesday? Library? Willam whined to herself and frowned looking at the message. The last thing she wanted right now was to be spending time with the girl who broke her best friends heart. Fine I’ll be there

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Violet had been working on the assignment; it wasn’t necessary but she felt the need to perfect a few things. She’d highlighted a couple of lines and felt the need to tell her partner. She whipped out her phone and found Pearl in her contacts. V: Found a couple of quotes from act 4 that we should prob use, they’re really versatile so we can talk about them from both sides Almost instantly Violet saw the three dots appear and waited for a reply. P: versatile eh?

V: you just can’t help yourself can you

P: guess not Vi :))

V: you’re going to hell I hope you know that

Pearl sat on her unmade bed in her room with her phone LED as the only light source. She had been sketching for the past hour or so but had no inspiration. The only person on her mind was Violet. P: And I hope you realise that you’re working on a Saturday night The three dots appeared on Pearls phone before disappearing shortly after with no text to replace it. that shut her up. P: Could I be of any help???

V: don’t try and sweet talk me now Pearly

P: I have no idea what you’re talking about

V: well, since you’re such a studious pupil feel free to come over and help me with our assignment

P: is that a serious invitation?

V: only if you want it to be…

Pearl sat up and contemplated the invite before changing into a nicer top and out of her joggers. She briefly brushed her hair and slapped on powder and a subtle lipstick. As she tied her converse and threw on her denim jacket, Pearl typed out one more message for Violet. P: Okay loser, where do you live?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bianca had rung the doorbell twice already and the weighty bag of takeaway in her hand felt like it was going to give away any second. Come on chola she muttered, growing impatient at the closed door in front of her. She tried the doorbell again and finally heard footsteps and a disgruntled moan behind the door. Adore opened the door, revealing a dimly lit mess of a room. Her face soon turned to confusion at the sight of a fresh faced Bianca in her doorway. she stepped to the side as an invite for the girl to come in. Bianca rolled her eyes, “Someone’s hungover” she smiled half-heartedly and raised the lukewarm bag in her hand. “I brought dinner.” Adore smiled at the gesture and walked into the kitchen to get plates. Bianca followed and reached into the top left cupboard to get glasses. She’d become acquainted with Adore’s house in the very few times she’d been. It was pretty self explanatory apart from the fact that she kept glasses on the other end of the kitchen from all the other dining things. “So, how’ve you been?” Adore asked, her voice monotone and groggy. “Better than you it sounds like,” the brunette jokingly replied, “Water or coffee?” Adore surveyed her options. “Water.” Bianca nodded. “Slice of cucumber,” both girls added at the same time. As Adore laid out the food, Bianca came up behind her and ruffled a hand through her hair. “What deranged party were you at last night?” “None actually.” “So why do you sound half asleep?” Defensively Adore crossed her arms before rubbing her eyes. “Because I was napping until you came.” Bianca chuckled before walking over to the sleepy being and pulling her into a hug. “Aww,” she said in a baby voice, “is Delano a little sleepy?” “I actually am because I was working on this stupid ass assignment” They both sat at the table and proceeded to eat the food Bianca brought. After a couple moments of comfortable silence Adore leaned forward and furrowed her brow. “Wait B,” she asked. The other girl looked up from her plate and waited for Adore to continue. “Why are you here? Not that I’m unhappy about it but… you don’t like it here.” Both laughed at the bold but true statement Adore just made. Bianca shrugged and fished around her plate with her fork. “I was home alone and Violet was busy.” Adore nodded. She looked back down at her food and smiled, knowing Bianca voluntarily wanted to hang out with Adore. They weren’t working, it had nothing to do with school. She wanted to see her. That’s real cute Adore thought. Real cute.

[serrpentine]

AU  DRABBLE:   NOVEMBER  OF   1988.  THANKSGIVING.  /     erin  &  axl continue  to  have the  same dreams of having a family in this world, both coming together, attracted by the idea of making up their own childhood that’s shaped them into the people they are now. but it possibly…comes much too soon while they’re both too young  &  naive to even think about starting that family. the singer certainly can’t handle the pressure of his career & another human to look after, erin especially can’t do it on her own. & maybe for awhile they become their own WORST fears, their parents. but not even cold november rain lasts forever.

Ding. The small white timer beside the oven in the tiny kitchen nestled on the right side of their small apartment signaling the turkey is finished after 8 good hours of cooking. Thanksgiving turkey Erin is cooking up for their dinner this evening. It’s just 3, but it’s still a bit late to just be waking up as Axl finally has stirred out of the bedroom and comes dragging himself into the kitchen with messy hair and tired eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them.

Doing shows until 2 in the morning and not getting home around 4 does that to a guy. But the longer the gig lasts, longer they stay more money they earn. And he’s desperate to scrounge every little dollar for him and his family. He’s found out it’s certainly hard buying for another person over the last three years. But it’s worth it, and it’s why he’s done such a good job at keeping his promise he made a few November’s ago.

“Mmm. Something smells good.” Red brows lift, smiling despite being sleepy faced. “I can’t wait to devour that.” Grinning as he watches the curly haired girl take the turkey out, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Planting a kiss to her ear, another to her cheek. Liking how he always manages to get a sweet giggle to escape her from his simple loving gestures. “I love you.” The gruff toned singer hums just before Axl lifts his head, glancing around, “Where’s Riley?” Since usually if he’s not by his side he’s with his mother. Erin gives a glance around too, saying he was just there. Probably in his room playing. “I wanna see my boy, I’ll go see what he’s up to.” The redhead smiles, placing another kiss to her cheek before letting his girlfriend go. Axl crosses the living room, not finding him there so he must be in his room. Taking a left and going down the small hall, he pushes his door open and only finds a messy bed and toys along with art stuff scattered across the four year old’s room.

S C R E E C H. That’s what he hears next, it’s what catches his attention and leads him to turn around. Facing the other room that’s right across his bedroom and that’s his office. A room that’s strictly off limits to everyone that isn’t him. Axl’s heart beat already begins to pump, wondering what the hell that was and he grows more nervous at hearing the racket that’s being made before he extends his hand out and pushes the door open just to find the most horrific scene. His box of cassettes tipped over and scattered across the carpet, IMPORTANT cassettes and paper work strewn across the desk. That’s not even the worst of it, his eyes widen big as quarters as Axl sees his DEMO tape. The only copy he has of Don’t Cry and the tape has been yanked and tattered out of the two circles as the smaller redhead holds it in his hands.

“What the fuck—” Rushing in, the door making a loud thud against the wall he slings it open so hard, “are you doing?” Snatching it out of his hands, Axl looks at the tape pulled out of its rolls in HORROR, “You DIDN’T just tear this to fucking pieces.” Blood has already began to rise, breathing heavy. IT’S RUINED! It’s ruined and there’s nothing he can do to fix it. He quickly turns to the boy responsible, snapping a little too cruel and rashly, “What the fuck did you do this for, HUH? You know you’re not supposed to fuckin’ be in HERE. I worked too goddamn hard on this shit and LOOK at it! LOOK THE FUCK AT IT! IT’S FUCKING RUINED! Because of you! Because of your fucking BULLSHIT.” The boy’s green eyes look terrified up at his raging father, brows knitting and not a second to spare before he cracks and breaks out into a loud cry, “SHUT UP.” Chucking the ruined tape at the wall, scaring the boy even more which results in his cries to grow louder.

The next thing that’s swirling through the redhead’s mind is Axl grabbing his wrist, storming out of the room with his son just as Erin’s picked up on all the yelling and hearing their sons cries as she comes rushing in their direction wanting to know what’s going on. What happened, what are you doing, Axl hears. “That demo tape I worked my ass off on?? I stayed up for a week trying to perfect? RUINED! Fuckin’ RUINED. That’s what fucking happened! Why’d you let him in there for? It’s your fuckin’ FAULT too why it’s INTO FUCKIN’ PIECES now. YOURS.” Jabbing his finger into her shoulder. Itching to grab her stupid face that looks a lot like his, scared and like she’s about to cry as well.

Erin tries pulling Riley away from Axl’s grasp, but he quickly pulls the boy along towards the front door. “You’re gonna learn your lesson. You’re gonna learn your lesson RIGHT fucking now.” Axl shoves whatever shoes are by the door on, slinging the door open and having to pull the four year old out into the hall while Erin tries to keep up, pleading him to leave him alone but he looks over his shoulder once with his cruelest glare, demanding, “Shut the fuck up.” in his meanest snarl. One she knows if she doesn’t watch it will end her up with something bruised, something she’d rather keep avoiding the little boy from witnessing. She’s left to stand back and finally cry, hoping whatever he has in mind doesn’t hurt him. Axl wouldn’t hurt him though. Would he? Sometimes she still questions it. Shaking her head, of course not. Their child is different. He isn’t as easy to hurt.

Axl’s angry, rash and much too caught up in a unstable mind state where everything his stepfather did to him pours out of HIM as he continues to tug the boy where he wants him to go despite his pitiful cries, nearly throwing a tantrum, until they’re outside the apartment. Leading the boy to the bushes and where a few skinny trees are. “Find you a branch and go break it off, RIGHT NOW.” A finger sharply pointing in the direction of the tree. He’s going to pick out his own switch just like his stepdad dad to him and punish him with it. Riley rubs at his eyes, looking frightened at the tree. That’s where the switch is. “No da-ddy.” Swallowing and shaking his head, his cheeks damp. It still doesn’t faze the older redhead, all he can think about is how his hard word is fucking destroyed because of HIM. Not how the little boy doesn’t typically do much to be a bad child or deserves such treatment. Or simply how scared he’s making him.

Axl won’t have it, he’s pressing his hands on his back and pushing him towards the tree. “Sorry. I s-orry.” Whining in between his words, but he knows he’ll get more spankings if he disobeys so he’s walking to the tree himself. Crying through it all as he struggles to even break a twig off, hands not even strong enough to do it yet and after a second Axl’s patience wears totally thin and he’s snapping it off the tree for him. “Get the hell back inside, LET’S GO.” Grabbing his wrist again, pulling him all the way across the yard, back into the building and up the stairs.

The frustrated man shoves the door open, slamming it back closed and not even waiting to take the thin stick to the boy’s backside. He immediately begins whipping him with it and loud cries of pain of the branch coming in harsh stinging contact with his skin. Giving him more than he even deserves, his head hot with rash ANGER. It’s finally after a minute of the little boy’s squealing that it finally gets to Axl. It sends flashbacks to him crying and screaming at that age, except it hurt worse because he was getting a switch taken to him AND being beat in the head with his stepfather’s fist. He may not be laying a hand on him in that way, but it still feels like he’s mimicking his terrible stepfather to a T. Erin’s over in the living room, crying with her ears covered before she can’t take much more of the child’s screaming. She doesn’t care if she gets punished. Standing up, she comes rushing down the hall, “Stop!” Reaching out for the boy, “You’re hurting him.” She’s begging him to just stop, Riley didn’t mean to tear up the demo tape and all of his other important things, it’ll never happen again but Axl’s quickly shoving her away. She’s lucky the Mr. Hyde in him is finally being overtaken by Dr. Jekyll, the good side of him winning over the monstrous side.

Throwing the stick down, he pulls Riley to his room, the little redhead has no problem running inside and crawling on his bed, hugging his teddy bears for safety, “And don’t you try coming out until I say you can either.” Still possessing such a cruel tone however, no sign of his kind and soothing voice, slamming the door back before turning to Erin who’s just now picking herself up off the ground, “Don’t fuckin’ interfere ever AGAIN either. He fuckin’ needs to learn a goddamn lesson after destroying all of my SHIT.” Roughly grabbing her face because he’s still blaming her as well, Erin pulls away without saying anything though. Opening Riley’s door and slamming the door shut, locking it behind her before she quickly goes to wrap her arms around her baby. Axl feels like tearing through that door, dragging her out and using nothing but his hands and FISTS on her because the anger in him isn’t satisfied until it attacks HER. But he’s kicking the door with his foot, nearly busting the thin wood in the bottom before he makes himself turn away.

Going to the office room, he stares at the small mess the boy had made before he goes completely a-wall on the entire room. Ripping down papers, throwing around records and tapes, important papers he’s definitely going to need for later. It’s only the start of a breakdown, he keeps clawing, tearing, kicking. Kicking and tearing until he grows lightheaded, feeling like the very world around him is spinning. Spinning until he can’t see anymore and he’s falling without a chance to even stumble, falling flat on his back in the middle of the internal tirade going on his head, his head hitting against the wall behind him hard. He actually manages to knock himself out until he sees nothing but black for a minute or two, just before his eyes come back open and they fill with tears.

                                  How can he do his family this way?

Tightly closing his eyes shut, tears slipping down his cheeks. He knows what Riley did was wrong, he knows he deserved some sort of punishment. But he knows this isn’t the way of doing it. And it’s not the way of realizing what he did wrong punishing him for after his anger has chilled down and he can think straight, but it’s too late. Axl sits up, looking at the mess of a room. It still angers him, how hard he worked on that demo to perfect it, he lost a lot. But it’s not worth getting this angry at a young boy that is just learning right from wrong. It makes him sadder because Axl knows how much he wants to be like him, he wants to do everything he does because he’s fascinated and loves his imperfect father. How can he treat a little boy that loves him so much this way? How can he turn around and be everything his stepfather was, everything he never wanted to be. It’s a long few minutes of wondering how he can be so despicable sometimes, a long few minutes of crying and hating himself before he finally decides he has to apologize. He needs to talk to him..and Erin.

Axl stands in front of the door, getting the courage to finally knock. “It’s me. Can I talk? Please.” Erin’s head lifts, they got lost watching cartoons. Axl. She’s cautious but she can already tell in his voice that he’s Axl again. Thinking on it for a moment, she finally stands to unlock the door. She still doesn’t look too happy, but Axl’s making the effort to try and speak. “Can I talk to him? Please. I’m sorry.” She can see how puffy his eyes are, the tears in them. The familiar guilt he always gets in his eyes after he’s come to terms at the damage he’s done. Erin figures he’s calm now, so she’s nodding and stepping out. Axl watches her before peaking into the room, the little boy looking at his father right away and using his bears and blanket to hide his face. A frown curves Axl’s features, taking a slow few steps in. “You have every right to be mad, but don’t be scared of me. I’m not going to hurt you.” The words, just saying it aloud, hurts his father. Riley somewhat lifts the blanket back down, deeply frowning at Axl. The older redhead takes a seat beside him, taking his smaller hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Look, you can’t…go into dad’s work place room. I worked so hard on that, it made me angry that you tore it up. But being a little rough with you and scaring you isn’t right of me either. You did earn a punishment, but I went about it wrong. I’m sorry for yelling at you, I never mean to yell.” Arms moving around to hold him tight as Riley inches closer and Axl pulls him on his lap, tears finding their way down his pale cheeks again, leading his head against his son’s smaller one. Riley senses the point and love he’s trying to direct towards him, his small hand reaches up to wipe dad’s tears away. “I won’t do it’s again. I promise.” The boy frowns, sadly speaking. The way he wipes his tears and speaks to him like that only makes Axl cry more, he gently places his hand on his back, rubbing it. “I’m sorry for being bad and tearin’ your special stuffs up.” Riley adds and Axl frowns too, quickly telling him, “It’s a mistake, you didn’t mean to. Just like I didn’t mean to scare and hurt you.” Axl kisses his forehead, the little boy understands but he never wants to upset his dad. He feels better at the affection he gets though. “You’re a special little boy, you’re so talented and smart. You know?” Axl smiles. “I am?” he asks, brows raising.

“Of course you are. Where’d you get it from?” Axl questions. “From mommy aaand…you.” His tiny pointer finger pokes his chin. “I definitely believe you got it from mommy, she’s real smart huh? Like the smartest girl on the entire planet. That’s no lie.” The older redhead smiles a little wider. “Yeah, that really is true!” Getting excited over it, he has the smartest mom on the planet. “Do you forgive me?” Axl thinks to question, keeping his eyes on him. “I forgive you. Forgive me?” he asks in return and it makes his father’s heart pang a little. “I forgive you, baby. Let’s go eat some turkey, want to?” Questioning, getting his excited as he bounces before it works in making Riley light completely up. “Yeah, yeah!” Axl stands, carrying him and quickly walking to the kitchen. Riley points to mama cutting into the turkey, a silent way of saying talk to her. “I’m sorry, Erin. Do you forgive me?” Approaching her side, the girl turns to him after a moment. After considering everything she heard her boyfriend say to their son, she figures if Riley can forgive she can too. They’ll just have a bigger talk about it later when they’re alone. “I forgive you.” Her sweet voice finally speaks. “ “I love you. Can I get a kiss?” Axl quietly asks, feeling like a kicked puppy. Erin faintly smiles and returns the love you, leaning to give him a small one on the lips. “Thank you.” Axl brightly smiles, kissing her lips again before turning to Riley, “I love you. Can I get a kiss too?” He questions before the little boy leans to peck him on the lips, “I love you too, daddy.” Those words. Aren't they still so strange? But he melts because he loves him. It makes the singer want to tear up for the tenth time but he's refraining.

Axl places the boy down, helping getting plates down and the food out. Three plates being filled with delicious turkey, gravy, and dressing. Warm pumpkin pie placed to the side for later as they sit down to finally eat as a family. The first bite and Axl's already humming, so is Riley. “I don't know about you, but mom is also the best cook in the world. Oh my goodness.” Shoving more gravy and dressing into his mouth, humming loudly. Riley eagerly nods, gravy getting all over his face, they're both like dogs devouring some delicious food. Erin giggles and feels content with herself, liking how much praise her food is getting. Around the time they're finishing up with stuffed bellies, the clock strikes five and that means ABC is playing A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. “Oh yeah! We gotta go. It's time for Snoopy.” Axl is the first to jump up after giving the clock a glance over. Erin's momentarily confused as he grabs Riley from his seat, hauling him off to the living room until she gets Snoopy. “Come on, Er! Forget the dishes for right now. Come watch it with us.” The redhead turns the television on the channel before quickly taking a seat, Riley excitedly climbing in his fathers lap. “Here he comes, here comes Snoopy! He's my favorite.” The little redhead announces, grinning up at his dad. “He's my favorite too.” Axl grins back at him, patting his pudgy belly before wrapping one arm around Erin as she comes to take a seat next to them. “You're both my favorite.” He kisses Erin's cheek, then Riley's head. Sometimes this life gets hard, but these are the moments living for. And if Axl is thankful for anything this year and the years to come, it's his family. No matter how hard it gets sometimes, even if that means he has to record and make a song all over again. It's not worth getting angry over when he has something so special as his child. And Erin. They each deserve nothing but the best, he just has to get better at his own issues. But if he plans to do anything, it'll be just that. Getting better for them.

[bansheeoftheforest]

I Am Once Again Giving You London Gang!Jekyll Content

Okay but AU where Jekyll accidentally starts a gang though. He just helped people on the street way too often and then one day someone who opposes the Society just.. gets absolutely destroyed by a carriage out of nowhere. Jekyll gets a box with money and a note that refers to him as 'boss'. There are three routes this could then go.

Route 1: Jekyll is HORRIFIED, he did not want to start a GANG, he does not want to be a gang BOSS, but he can't tell them off because firstly, he doesn't know how he'd even do that, and secondly, they just KILLED SOMEONE, who's to say they won't kill him, too?? Jekyll must now try and figure out a way to solve this problem while Hyde has way too much fun (until he realizes the gang wants him dead for lighting their boss's building on fire).

Route 2: Jekyll is the most oblivious man on earth. He thinks one of the Lodgers gave him money as an apology. People who oppose the Society keep dropping dead and Jekyll keeps patching up the same people over and over who really like him for some reason, it is business as usual with how weird everything in his life already is. Someone (maybe your Crawford guy??) keeps trying to point out all the murders and link them to Jekyll but life hates this man specifically and nothing ever gets looked into because of the most ungodly amount of coincidences ever.

Route 3: Fuck it, he needs the money. He'll just wear a mask whenever he's duking it out in gang fights. He is surprisingly good at fighting, or maybe this could tie into the idea of Jekyll having been in a Scottish gang as a kid, but either way he mops the cobblestone streets with his opponents. He becomes one of the most feared and notorious gang leaders in London, and has a habit of targeting aristocracy that he knows are corrupt and abusive from meeting them as Dr. Jekyll at fancy events. Everything is all fine and well until Brokenshire approaches him saying they need to protect the doctor because clearly those in his social circles are being targeted. Sitcom level hijinks ensue.

(Bonus because I know you love your crackships: Jekyll gets challenged to a gang fight and meets a man in a tophat. He struggles a bit more than usual, but ultimately beats him. He is then held at gunpoint by this guy's sister demanding to know how he bested a trained assassin and whoa wait despite this guy having a bruised face now courtesy of himself he is actually very handsome haha ummm wait a minute did he just say that out loud and maybe invited him to get drinks as an apology for nearly kicking his teeth in uMMM- (bi disaster Dr. Jekyll strikes again!!))

Jeks. Jeks, my guy, thank you for making me laugh so hard, this is just... glorious. I love it all. Oh my god.

I don't know that route is best-- I honestly love the oblivious route bc of all the hijinx and Crawford wanting to rip his hair out in frustration and especially if it is a Syndicate au and it's the Crawford Starrick I based him off (which would make a lil less sense since he is gang leader tycoon and probably could have Jekyll killed but sssuuusshhhh) but I also love Henry just... Getting a goddamn Phantom Of The Opera-esque mask, deciding to go absolutely bonkers, painting entire alleyways red with the blood of his enemies, etc etc, and I absolutely love the idea of Brokenshire directly or indirectly approaching him asking him to protect himself, like they know that Jekyll's persona is well feared and a gang leader but they don't know that it is his gang that is targeting people so now Jekyll is the one sending assassins after abusive and corrupt aristocrats but also has a mission to protect himself from himself. Nice. I absolutely love it. I love it all. And I just... Hyde being do giddy until he realises that the gang wants him dead??? Fuck yes. Give me it all. I just love it so fucking much jfc i cant put it inTO WORDS.

Ok. Ok can we please combine the oblivious route with the masked gangleader phantom being the terror of london route??? Henry at first being completely oblivious, not realising why everyone that has ever insulted him and his work are suddenly disappearing one by one, Crawford wanting to rip his hair out in frustration bc "GUYS IT'S FUCKING JEKYLL HOW IS NO ONE SEEING IT" And jekyll just goes "ahah don't be silly Ricky, I'm not a gangleader lol". Henry being completely oblivious as the Lodgers suddenly get stalked by the gang members, only to be protected by them from other gangs or anti-sciences dudes, the Lodgers retelling the story to Jekyll who just goes like "oh wow man. Huh aren't those the people I have been patching up a lot lately. Strange. What a strange coincidence :)" but then a gang member gets really injured and Henry saves them from death and the gangmember is just... going like "wow, you are the best gang leader I have ever had, you are so much better than everyone else." and henry is just like "ahaha i'm a WHAT NOW"

Cue Henry deciding that, fuck it, if they already think of him as a gangleader why not take advantage of it. He has already been in gangs as a kid so he knows how they work. Quickly becomes a gangleader Tycoon, the lodgers/Rachel/Robert are all confused as to why people suddenly have stopped targeting them for robberies and shit and as to why Henry suddenly has a lot of money he spends on the Society and the bills. Henry telling them not to worry about it. He hears about a dude who suddenly has been swiping through all the ot her London gangs like a hot knife through butter, suddenly his gang is targeted so they are challenged to a gangfight. Henry beats the absolute shit out of him, he has him pinned to the ground when he hears a gun loading and he feels the hilt against his back. He is too busy staring into the beaten up guy's eyes to really care, wow he is so hot, the gangleaders demand that he takes off his mask or he gets shot. He instead lets go of the guy and just... Stands up, brushes himself off, tells them "ahaahh thanks but no thanks. also please stop destorying my gang we literally have not done anything provoking to you."

Anyways they agree to have their gangs work together (oh my god what would Henry's gang be called??? I imagine them wearing the colour blue bc the Rooks are green and the Blighters are red (since it's a specifically a syndicate au lol) but they probably would wear red if it's just tgs anyways off topic hehe). Henry invites them to a drink, his tab, they agree, they find out about all the accidental bullshit that Henry accidentally started and just... Yes pls. Also Jacob and Henry getting drunk and flirting like nobody's business, maybe Henry asking if Jacob likes guys and if he doesn't, is his sister single? Evie almost kicking his teeth in, Jacob laughing his ass off. Yes please.

ALso almost completely forgot the absolute scooby doo mystery of the twins trying to figure out who Henry is since he wears a mask and disguises his identity. Imagine them just being like... Who’s that pokemon? It’s dr. henry jekyll-- WAIT IT’S DR. HENRY JEKYLL????

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Vital Signs, pt20

Word Count: 2078 Tags: @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @outside-the-government, @jimfromsales, @donnaintx, @enterprisewriting @starmission @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @flirtswithdanger

I expected at least a little excitement to greet me as I strode through the infirmary door. Instead, Derek and Jane were sitting at the desk sharing a National Inquirer, and Dr. Carson was nowhere to be seen.

“I was called stat?” I directed the query to the nurses. Derek looked up from the tabloid and nodded toward the curtained bay.

“That one thinks he’s super funny. Sorry, Doc. He did something to the comm and we couldn’t cancel the page.” A flash of irritation crossed his face. I sighed. Stark was days early for his physical. I should have known he wasn’t intending to come when he’d been booked.

“Stark, you better be here for your physical, or I swear to god-“ I flipped open the curtain and shrieked. He was sitting on the exam table, naked as a jaybird. I threw the chart across his lap and turned around.

“I could have sworn you were a doctor, Richmond,” he taunted me. I threw a blue paper sheet over my shoulder at him.

“Doesn’t mean I need to see your junk. Jesus, Tony.” I heard the paper crinkling and judged it safe to turn back to him. Without another word, I went to work, and made quick work of the initial assessment. Tony was filled with smart-ass remarks, trying to break my composure again, but I set my jaw and ignored him. Finally, I took a quick look at his chest.

“So tell me about this arc reactor in your chest.” I peered at it while I listened to his heart. His heart was a mess. It sounded off, just a little. Like it wasn’t quite beating properly. There were limitations to how I could assess him though. He couldn’t have an MRI because of the electromagnet and the shrapnel in his chest.

“It powers the electromagnet that keeps the shrapnel from penetrating my heart.” He was suddenly all business.

“And we can’t get the shrapnel out?” I asked. He shook his head.

“I’ve seen a few doctors now about it. They all say this is it.” It certainly explained his fatalistic approach to life.

“Have the symptoms of the palladium poisoning ceased?”

“Ages ago. No further issues. Is all that in this chart?” He pulled the folder from my hand and started flipping through it, settling into the progress notes from previous SHIELD doctors.

“You probably shouldn’t be reading-“

“Stark is a PITA with narcissistic personality disorder. I know what narcissistic personality disorder is. That’s probably a good diagnosis, actually. But what the hell is a PITA? I mean, other than a bread envelope?” He looked at me expectantly. I coughed to cover a laugh and tried not to blush.

“It’s medical shorthand,” I cringed.

“For?”

“Pain in the ass.” I bit my lip, trying desperately to hide my amusement. Tony looked at me, looked back in the chart, flipped a couple more pages, and then looked back up at me.

“This isn’t your writing. Do you agree with the diagnosis?” There was a hint of a smile in his eyes, and I grinned.

“I haven’t worked with you enough yet, Tony. But I suspect that Dr. McTavish was probably spot on the money.”

He laughed, and stood up, the blue paper sheet dropping on the floor. I spun around again to avoid seeing him in the altogether.

“No ill effects from the fall?” It was awkward and weird to continue the assessment with my back turned, but I wasn’t going to give in to his weird game.

“Nothing.” His answer was too quick. He was lying. That was interesting.

“Nightmares?” I guessed.

“You and Cap are well matched,” he avoided my question. I restrained the urge to turn and question him.

“Oh?”

“You’re both insufferable prudes.” He smacked my ass with his chart, “It should be fun to break you – I mean, work with you.” I turned around and took the chart, and then took a good long look at him. All of him. I had to hand it to him, he wasn’t shy or ashamed, and he really had no reason to be. Despite not being the oldest of the Avengers, as both Steve and Thor had him beat by decades, he was physiologically the oldest of the group. He was in pretty amazing shape. Still had a 6-pack, nicely defined pecs, excellent shoulders. It struck me that really, all the Avengers were quite delicious. I let my gaze roam as my mind wandered, trying to call Tony’s bluff. It didn’t work. He just stood there, naked, letting me stare. I picked up his pants and tossed them to him.

“Neither of us is as uptight as you’d like to think.” I turned and left the assessment bay. I was sitting at the desk writing up my notes when he left. He stopped at the desk briefly.

“There’s more to you than I initially thought. I’ll see you in the lab.” He winked at Jane as he left the infirmary.

“What’s that about?” Derek asked.

“I’m going to work with Stark on some med tech. It’s super cool.” I sat down and explained about the MRI I’d looked at and all the different ways I thought we could use it. Dr. Carson might not have been onboard, but by the time I left the infirmary, the nurses all were.

I was poring over the information Dr. Banner had given me about the Hulk with absolute fascination. His reports were really thorough and detailed, but they were only about the Hulk. There was nothing about his own medical history in them. I tried to search the SHIELD database, but hit a wall there too. Nothing on Bruce Banner, but endless reports about the Hulk. It was frustrating. I had just made a frustrated noise when Dr. Banner stepped into the infirmary.

“Physical?” He looked nervous. I jumped up.

“The first assessment bay. There’s a blue sheet on the table, strip down and cover yourself. I’ll be in as soon as I grab your chart. Did you still feel Romanoff should be here?” I pointed to the bay where I wanted him. He nodded. I quickly paged Natasha and sat back down at the desk to wait. Bruce was worried for nothing. He was the model patient. Natasha waited just beyond the curtain, but she really wasn’t necessary.

“Bruce, we don’t have any medical records on you.” I was wrapping up the assessment. He furrowed his brow.

“I sent over all my research.”

“Which is all on the Hulk. None of it is about you. There must be medical records on you somewhere, Bruce.”

“Somewhere, yeah.” It was pretty non-commital, as responses go.

“Look, Bruce, I’m not going to pretend to try to understand what your life must be like. You’ve got a Jekyll and Hyde thing going. But I’m not as interested in Hyde as I am in Jekyll, okay?” I offered. Bruce’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowed.

“How can you say that?” He demanded.

“Because you’ve given us all the data on the Hulk, Bruce. But we have nothing on you. How can SHIELD give you ongoing support if we have no idea of the baseline of health for the regular guy who is normally around?” It seemed pretty straightforward to me. Bruce shook his head.

“But it’s the other guy who is important to SHIELD.” he stated. I sighed and put down the chart. I sat down on a stool facing him.

“Okay, maybe. But Bruce Banner is pretty important to the other guy, right? So I need to know how to take care of Bruce Banner.” I met his angry gaze and stared him down until it softened.

“I’ll forward my records to you. But you, Lex. Not that dipshit CMO,” he conceded.

“Deal.” I held out my hand to seal the agreement, and Bruce shook it.

I had no sooner finished Dr. Banner’s physical than Agent Romanoff offered to have hers done. Dr. Carson appeared out of nowhere as I was preparing.

“I’ll do this one.” He attempted to take the chart from me. I raised an eyebrow and refused to hand it over.

“I don’t think so,” I snorted. It wasn’t terribly ladylike, but I’d come to view Natasha as a friend. I wasn’t going to let Dr. Carson take advantage of his position to ogle her. He took the chart from my hand anyhow.

“Regardless of how much you may think Director Fury prefers you, I am still the CMO, and I will do Agent Romanoff’s assessment,” he snapped. He must have forgotten her reputation for being terrifying. I wasn’t about to remind him. I retreated to the desk and finished charting my assessment of Dr. Banner. There was a suspicious silence from behind the curtain, and I couldn’t help but look up, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to see anything. I could hear, however, and soon enough I heard what sounded like a slap, followed by some cursing and then a loud snap.

Natasha pulled back the curtain, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and looked pointedly at me.

“I just broke his radius and ulna. You’re going to need to set and cast him. A few rounds of cyproterone acetate wouldn’t hurt either. I’ll wait for you over there.” She gestured to the other side of the infirmary, and stole the tabloid off the nurse’s station before stalking away. I smothered a giggle and headed over to Dr. Carson. He was clutching his arm and cursing. Jane followed with the cast tray. I quickly assessed the injury and sure enough, could palpate clean breaks to the radius and ulna. I gave a quick tug to set the bone. Dr. Carson screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Richmond! What kind of fucking barbarian are you? Get me some goddamn pain control, you stupid bitch!” He yelled. I ignored him and wrapped the first layer of felt around his arm. Jane held the arm straight while Dr. Carson continued to berate me. I rolled the plaster over the felt, and smoothed it out, blocking out Dr. Carson’s vitriol. As I completed the cast, I ordered some pain control and dismissed Jane to get it.

The curtain opened, and I was expecting Jane with the pain meds. Instead, Director Fury glared down at Dr. Carson and myself. Natasha stood behind him, hands on her hips, looking satisfied.

“Dr. Carson, sexual harassment is taken very seriously at SHIELD.”

“I’m sure I don’t know-“

“Don’t start. If Agent Romanoff said you were sexually harassing her, it’s time for you to pack your bags. SHIELD no longer needs your services.”

“Are you firing me?”

“On termination, your contract becomes void. SHIELD will no longer be responsible for the payment of your student debt,” Fury continued, ignoring Dr. Carson.

“Are you kidding me?” He stood up and stepped into Fury’s personal space. Fury sat him back down.

“Your record will be submitted to the licensing body where you opt to set up practice. Please have your things packed and be ready for transport to the Hub in 45 minutes. Dr. Morrison will assume the position of acting CMO effective immediately, until Dr. Richmond finishes the project she’s been seconded to.” Fury took Dr. Carson by the arm and escorted him out of the infirmary. I met Romanoff’s eye and fought the urge to giggle. She winked and nodded toward the assessment bay.

“What did he do?” I asked as I drew the curtain.

“You don’t want to know. It was vulgar.” She looked disgusted. I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let-“

“Don’t. He needed to go. I was happy to show him the door.” She held out her arm to me so I could draw her blood. Natasha was all business, and offered information for her chart before I could think to ask for some of it. She had a rather complex medical history, so it took longer than I’d expected, but I got the impression I was the first doctor she’d trusted with some of it.

When she left the infirmary, I flopped down in a chair to finish my charting. I only had Steve left to assess and I could pretty much do that from memory, if I wanted to. In fact, I almost felt as though it would be smarter to do that, than have the temptation to ‘play doctor’ take over during an assessment.

[racingtoaredlight]

Profiles in IMDb Greatness: Matt Ross

I love the Internet Movie Database. If I’m looking to Instagram stalk the pretty Italian lady from the second season of Master of None it’s a great outlet to find her real name. As such I enjoy looking over random performer pages and arbitrarily judging the scope and quality of their careers to determine if they merit entry into my vaguely defined IMDb Hall of Fame. Today’s enshrinee: Matt Ross

Fate and the Home Box Office television network conspired to serve up a perfect actor for inclusion in this hallowed Hall when as the fourth season of Silicon Valley was up and running while it seemed like American Psycho was on twice a day (and then like a month passed without my actually doing the post but it’s here now so leave me alone). Anyone who can both legitimately unnerve Patrick Bateman and make hostile corporate takeovers hilarious is working with a full deck as a performer.

First Listed Role: I already know this profile is going to be a winner since I’ve seen his first credited role, 1994′s PCU.

It’s been a great long while since I’ve seen PCU (so long ago that even with the picture I can’t remember what exactly Matt Ross did) but I recall it being entertaining enough while still thinking my buddies oversold the hell out of it. It’s a fun movie to look back on as a reminder that even with all the crybabies today annoyed they can no longer use racial slurs decrying political correctness is not a new phenomenon.

Also George Clinton rocks pretty hard in it if memory serves.

Most Recent Finished Work: The great Silicon Valley. That show sneaked up on me during the second season when I had a realization that I looked forward to it just about as much as any other show on TV and would regularly have your faithful writer laughing loudly like an idiot multiple times an episode.

On the show Ross has helped create one of the great villains of television Gavin Belson. Think a more insecure, outwardly evil Bill Gates whose tech giant company Hooli is a constant cloud over the doings of the show’s, for lack of a better word, heroes. A common trait with Ross’ best roles is being able to possess a certain oily sleaziness. Gavin Belson as CEO of a major corporation is more polished than the Alby Grants he’s portrayed but the running bit with animal props as board meetings is a perfect showcase for a hilarious lack of basic morality.

CSI/Law & Order/NCIS Guest Spots: In furthering being the perfect IMDb HOF entrant Matt Ross has a double dip of CSIs (no Law & Order surprisingly, but he does do more film work than a lot of the others so less available time I’d imagine).

From CSI: Miami we have Silencer.

Horatio and his team investigate a double murder at a concert, but unraveling the mystery becomes difficult when leads take them in two directions: the Mala Noche gang, and a pharmaceutical company.

Difficult to say where Ross’ character Paul Burton falls into this mess but if I had to guess I’d wager he’s aligned with the pill pushers than the Mala Noche gang. Being a shady pharmacy lab tech feels just right for him. I just hope it was George Clinton concert that claimed those two souls as a bit of an Easter egg to Matt Ross’ early work.

And then there’s CSI: Original Recipe with Meat Jekyll. As first I got excited thinking Ross was playing a character named Meat Jekyll before realizing it was just the title of the episode. An even bigger disappointment is not using Ross’ aforementioned ability to play sinister to be the Hannical Lector of the episode.

The crime lab reluctantly brings in imprisoned serial killer Nate Haskell after he claims to know the identity of "Dr. Jeckyll." Meanwhile, clues revealing his next and perhaps final victim are mailed to Dr. Langston.

Instead they gave that *sunglasses* MEATY role *yeah* to That Guy who was in Eight Men Out as one of the few players who didn’t get kicked out of baseball. Can’t trust a man who won’t take a gambler’s money in this reporter’s opinion.

Hall of Fame Ballot Submissions: Twelve Monkeys (maybe my favorite treatment of time travel as a concept and how you wouldn’t be able to change anything since it’s already happened in the future), Face/Off (I only watched about 20 minutes of this and shut it off but it’s such a famous goodbad movie that I included it, just couldn’t buy in to Nic Cage’s skin fitting around Travolta’s giant head), Oz (this post’s winner of the biggest “Oh shit, really?” work, he was one of the guards killed in the riot), American Psycho, The Aviator, Good Night and Good Luck, Big Love, Silicon Valley.

Big Love was a bit of a stretch here since by the last couple seasons I was outwardly hating it but Ross’ Alby Grant is probaby still the role I most associate him with when he pops up elsewhere due to how devastatingly creepy he was. Also I included Big Love for Bill Paxton so in the name of consistency it’s here again, plus this adds to Ross being the king of HBO.

The Aviator was another flick that HBO brought back into the rotation in the last few months that I hadn’t seen in forever and I’d forgotten he was in it. In a weird turn his character Odie is simply a competent airplane mechanic without any degenerate character tendencies, I’m sure it was his hardest role to pull off.

And what’s left to say about his turn in American Psycho, he’d know better than anyone that too much praise can be grating.

Miscellaneous Credits: New rule, if you play Johnny Cash in something, it gets mentioned here like with Lifetime’s Ring of Fire.

Suppose you’d have to ask someone else why this was made when Walk The Line had come out eight years earlier but hey, if they can keep rebooting Spider-Man this century than certainly the Man in Black should be celebrated as often as possible.

Highest Rated IMDb Entry: Goddamn right, the Silicon Valley episode Optimal Tip-To-Tip Efficiency that pulled the whole first season together and hinted at the heights it could reach. 9.4 stars, this episode fucks. I love this one sentence from the episode description:

The guys break out into a ridiculous argument

Yes they did, IMDb plot recapper, yes they did.

Lowest Rated IMDb Entry: I’m not about to go through every other post in this series to check but 5.4 for the worst (according to IMDb users) production one’s been in might be the new high water mark. Take a bow, A Deadly Vision. I’ll be keeping my eyes open to see if the Lifetime Movie Channel re-airs this.

A waitress who has psychic visions of murders before they happen is asked by a police detective to help find a serial killer.

Making this all the better? Matt Ross is indeed the killer and is billed simply as The Killer, just like with The Joker a menace can be more terrifying without any sort of tether to humanity. I’m now wondering to myself just how good Matt Ross could be as The Joker in something. Him and Ben Affleck are pretty much the same age so why not make him the Clown Prince of Evil for any standalone Batfleck film instead of Jared Leto’s ass. Just something to think about, Hollywood bigshots.

IMDb Fun Fact: Matt Ross is  6' 0½" tall.

I feel like I was pitching a perfect IMDb HOF post and then the Trivia section stepped to the plate and laid down a bunt that hugged the third base line of uninteresting tidbits of a great actor’s career. Shame.

IMDb HOF Members: Even though the ad wizards have decreed that only video is worthy of internet bandwidth it sure would be swell if the dear readers clicked back on any old posts they haven’t read yet and tell me how these used to be better before I became cynical and jaded beyond recognition.

Bob Balaban

Jim Beaver

Clancy Brown

W. Earl Brown

Reg E. Cathey

Gary Cole

Keith David

Cary Elwes

Noah Emmerich

Jami Gertz

John Hawkes

John Michael Higgins

Toby Huss

Allison Janney

John Carroll Lynch

Margo Martindale

David Morse

Joe Morton

Robert Patrick

Bill Paxton

Jon Polito

Alan Rickman

Stephen Root

Matt Ross

Alan Ruck

Peter Stormare

Daniel von Bargen

Next Time: Should I just do an actual Jami Gertz one? She’s been in there so long I can hardly remember what inspired the running gag in the first place.

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});