#musings: Lucas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pommedepersephone · 3 months ago

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I watched Queer yesterday and I have FEELINGS about all of it. First of all, brava, it was amazing. The acting, the costumes, the cinematography, the soundtrack, it all worked for me. I am going to be gnawing on this for a while. But to satisfy my immediate urge to scream into the void about this movie, I want to talk about cameras, in both the book and the movie.

In the intoduction to the 1985 edition of Queer, William S. Burroughs wrote-

What Lee is looking for is contact or recognition, like a photon emerging from the haze of insubstantiality to leave an indelible recording in Allerton's consciousness... Lee does not know that he is already committed to writing, since this is the only way he has of making an indelible record, whether Allerton is inclined to observe or not.

For context, the semi-autobiographical Queer makes Burroughs into Lee, and Eugene Allerton is the fictional version of Lewis Marker (seen here with Burroughs in 1951), who Burroughs pursued intensely.

In a letter to Allen Ginsburg, Burroughs states, "I wrote Queer for Marker." Their relationship fell apart in the course of writing the book, with Burroughs penning repeated letters to Marker in an attempt to reconnect. The longing for "recognition", to leave an "indelible record", is pervasive in the narrative. And the camera serves as a physical manifestation.

🚫 SPOILERS FOR "QUEER" BELOW THE CUT 🚫

In the book, the camera makes its first appearance immediately after Allerton and Lee first sleep together. Lee mentions that Allerton's camera is in pawn, and he offers to buy it back for him.

After they get the camera out of hawk, Allerton does not express any gratitude, and becomes "nervous and irritable" and after a tense conversation the the cafe he abandons Lee, refusing to make future plans.

In the movie (at least the theatrical cut, I mourn for that lost hour) the camera just appears as an object belonging to Allerton. However, the tense scene in the cafe remains, and ends with Allerton getting up to abruptly leave, nearly leaving the camera. Lee stops him, handing him the camera before he goes.

Lee in the book sees the incident with the camera as indicative of their relationship, saying -

He forced himself to look at the facts. Allerton was not queer enough to make a reciprocal relation possible. Lee's affection irritated him... Allerton did not recognize friends who made six-hundred-peso gifts, nor could he feel comfortable exploiting Lee. He made no attempt to clarify the situation. He did not want to see the contradiction involved in resenting a favor which he accepted. Lee found that he could tune in on Allerton's viewpoint, though the process caused him pain, since it involved seeing the extent of Allerton's indifference. "I liked him and I wanted him to like me," Lee thought. "I wasn't trying to buy anything."

While the story of their trip I to the jungle is vastly different from book to movie (which I am sure will be its own future ramble) they end very much the same - abruptly and with no closure.

While Lee wanted reciprocal affection, when he realizes that is unlikely to happen, he does buy Allerton's attention by paying for their trip to South America. In the book, the camera isn't mentioned during their journey, but its inclusion in the movie feels like a solid artistic choice. Allerton is along as an observer, after all, giving Lee the recognition and indelible record he longs for.

The final chapter, in the book and the movie, finds us back in Mexico City, two years after Lee's trip with Allerton and an extended absence by Lee himself. In the book, Lee is seeking subjects to take pictures of, but mostly resorts to snapping portraits of unwilling people. He says -

There is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, incorporate, a sexual pursuit of intimacy.

The movie, though, offers an absolute gut punch. Two years have passed in the literal blink of a cinematic eye, spitting Lee back out with a camera and Allerton's haircut. It is as if he has become the observer he so desperately wanted, but still he is seeking out Allerton. It made me think of a line from Burroughs' introduction to the book -

While it was I who wrote Junky, I feel that I was being written in Queer.

One of the things I find fascinating is the self editing that took place between when Queer was written in 1952, and published in 1985. Burroughs writes in the introduction about how the death of his wife had influenced the book, and never once mentions Marker. But his memory clearly still stuck with Burroughs, as the editor of the 2010 edition of Queer notes that Allerton appears as a character in My Education and The Soft Machine.

Annnnnyway, I can promise I will be revisiting Queer. AND if you are like me and could not get into Junky, I highly suggest still giving Queer a read.

#queer 2024 #queer movie #william s burroughs #luca guadagnino #daniel craig #drew starkey #musings on literary adaptations #william lee #eugene allerton

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silvermasquerade · 28 days ago

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Also I’m noting this for the golden raven in advance

Based on a comment in the book, Jeremy’s (Step?) Grandfather has is a huge role in whatever drama happened. Or the fall out Jeremy had with the family.

It’s the one clue I don’t seen brought up a lot. I see the police, the aversion to the last name, the hatred of their stepfather, the possible loss of a sibling to suicide etc. but never specifically this scene! If I had to guess, that’s where the money comes from. The (step) grandfather. Generational wealth. The “ don’t ruin my future” bit from the sister clues me in there.

#aftg #the golden raven #Tsc #also other thing I noticed in the book… Riko might have been cremated #anyways #that’s unrelated #jeremy knox #Annalise Knox #I also had a theory Lucas might get killed by mistake but then I remembered Grayson was a first name so I hope not #musings

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

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Harlequin Prince (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

This part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Ironically, even tho the post says about a week of turn around, I get so excited that somebody wants to line jump that I just write it immediately lmao

Steve finally gets a good fight in this one, but it ends way too soon the poor boy. Either way, he also gets to meet some of the party!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

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Steve knew his dad wasn't in the picture, but he never knew why. He never asked, but he started to get this horrible feeling after a while. Harley Quinn's past was well known to Steve, her previous...associate and her relationship with him isn't exactly a secret, no matter how much his mother tried to keep them from him. She couldn't protect him at school, and she couldn't protect him from hearing people talking on the streets.

So, yeah, from the age of nine, Steve walked around with this horrendous knowledge in his gut, a knowledge that he wanted to think was just him being paranoid. But it wasn't. He knew it wasn't. He just couldn't admit that to himself, and he couldn't ask his mother because he didn't want to send her down that particular lane of memories. So it festered, and Steve pretended it didn't exist at all.

Until, that is, his 13th birthday. It was held at Uncle Bruce's mansion because his mother wanted to go all out. It was as much a celebration for her (a full three years without getting sent to Arkham!) as it was for him (managing to stay alive for 13 years in Gotham with Harley Quinn for a mother). Steve hadn't minded, either, especially when he saw the absolute joy she had when picking out the hugest bounce-house she could find with Uncle Bruce's sleek black credit card.

The party was catered by Steve's favorite Indian restaurant, the guests were limited to immediate friends and family, the bounce-house was extra bouncy, and a table was practically buckling under the weight of the gifts piled on top of it. It was, by far, Steve's best birthday, surpassing even the one he spent in Arkham after letting Poison Ivy out of her cell.

"Hey, Dumplin'!" his mother shouted, waving at him from the top of the bounce house she'd managed to climb. When Steve looked at her, she grinned even brighter and jumped, launching off turrets and rolling down sloped walls before landing on her feet on the ground. "Let's get to them presents!"

Steve laughed, looked at the table eagerly, and nodded. Her grin somehow getting wider, Harley turned, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, "GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR, EVERYONE! STEVIE'S OPENIN' PRESENTS!"

Soon enough, Steve was standing in front of the table, surrounded by everyone, and not at all sure where to start with the mountain of presents. "You should open mine first," Jason said, grinning as he gestured to a bike-shaped package.

It was, in fact, a bike. A motorcycle, specifically, with a red and black helmet and the promise of lessons from Jason whenever he wanted. Steve loved it immediately and ignored Uncle Bruce muttering about driving laws and how Steve couldn't operate any motorized vehicle until he was fifteen. "Well," he said, "as long as I don't get caught by Batman, who's gonna know?"

That had earned him a laugh and his mother's hand ruffling his hair. "Go on, Dumplin', choose another."

Dick got him a literal outfit's worth of Wonder Woman merch, accessories included, that made Bruce look ready to pop a blood vessel. Tim gave him small tracking pins and a hacked handheld game console to watch the trackers with the promise of free upgrades anytime he wanted. Damien gave him daggers since he "wasn't good enough for real swords, but everyone should have a blade" on them, just in case. Cass, Steph, and Barbara pooled their skills together (and Alfred, they borrowed Alfred a lot) to make him an Unofficial Robin costume, complete with shorts only slightly less scandalous than Dick's original costume.

Bruce, when he finally stopped glaring at the three of them, gave Steve a fingerprint panic button shaped like a bat and easily attached to a key ring. "For emergencies, Steve," he said, "Just hold your thumb to it for three seconds."

"This is perfect for the next time we run out of ice cream," Steve said, grinning as he attached it to his key chain.

"Emergencies."

"Oh. So if we run out of mint chip, specifically. Got it."

Bruce merely sighed and let him return to opening gifts.

Alfred gave him a tin of homemade cookies that Steve immediately had to protect from the others. Poison Ivy gave him a Venus flytrap and the promise to help him grow it properly. Selina couldn't be there, but Bruce passed along her gift: a pair of goggles Bruce had handed over with a sigh and quiet request for him to use them responsibly.

Steve opened Duke's present last, eyes widening at the red leather jacket. "Wait, seriously?" he asked, holding it up as he looked at Duke.

"You're gonna be a troublemaker, Steve," Duke said. "Might as well make sure you're bulletproof for it."

Steve grinned wider and pulled on the jacket, swimming in the leather but eager to grow into it all the same.

There was nothing from his mother in the pile, but Steve figured the party itself was his present since she'd done all the planning. When she pulled him away to a secluded room in the manor after they'd all had cake, Steve realized it was just because she didn't want to share this moment with anyone.

She smiled at him, reaching up and gently tucking a few strands of hair behind Steve's ears. "You grew up so fast, Dumplin'," she said, sighing softly.

"Ivy says I'm like a weed."

"Ives is right," Harley said, nodding once before looking away. "Okay, ready for your present?"

"Wasn't the party my present?"

"No, no, Dumplin'. The party was for fun," she said, grinning as she reached behind her and pulled a comically-large mallet from seemingly nowhere. "This is your present."

Steve blinked, leaning over to look around Harley. "Where'd that even come from?" he asked.

"Jester Logic, Dumplin'. Don't worry about it. I'll teach you the trick later," she promised, holding the mallet out to Steve with an expectant expression.

When Steve took it, the weight threw him off. He frowned, shifted his grip, and suddenly had no problem holding it up. He took a closer look, noting the scratches and marks on the mallet and the faded paint. "This was yours," he said.

"Yeah, it was."

"I've never seen it before."

Harley sighed, tugging on one of her pigtails with a slight frown. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly a great person when I used it, Dumplin'. Tried to forget about that Harley and all," she explained.

"Then why give it to me?"

Harley looked back at Steve and smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Cuz you're so much better than me," she said. "I think you'll do some great things, Dumplin', and maybe all the good you do will erase most of the bad this mallet's got."

Her words were so serious, her smile was so bittersweet, and she looked ready to cry and deny it. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to learning about her past straight from the source, a past he knew about it, a past that involved a certain person that haunts Steve's mind with terrifying potential. Suddenly, he had to know.

Steve didn't really think before blurting out, "Is the Joker my father?"

Harley froze, her shoulders tensing and her eyes widening as she stared at Steve. "You don't got a father, Dumplin'," she finally said, her voice quiet and her expression conflicted.

"Fine. Was he the sperm donor?"

With a sigh, Harley stepped closer and placed her hands on Steve's shoulders. "I won't lie," she said. "He is, but that don't mean a thing. His crazy ain't hereditary, Dumplin', and he's never gettin' anywhere near you."

"Does...does he know?" Steve whispered, "About me, I mean."

"It don't matter," Harley said, her voice firm and her eyes more serious than Steve had ever seen them. "I'll kill him before he gets near ya. Ives will kill him. Hell, Brucie wil---no, wait, he's got those pesky morals. Fine, Jason will kill him before he gets near ya. Actually, Jason'd kill him anyway, but the excuse will be good if Brucie scolds him for it."

Steve couldn't help laughing at that, feeling a little lighter when his mother smiled back at him. When his laughter trickled to nothing more than a smile, he asked, "Then, was I the reason you left?"

Harley nodded and gently tugged Steve into her arms, holding him to her and cradling the back of his head. "Yeah, you were," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "I was excited to tell 'im when I learned about you, but then I heard him talking to some goons. He was laughin' about running a kid over, breakin' their legs, and I realized...you wouldn't be special to him. You'd've been like his goons, all expendable and not even worth a glance. I couldn't put you through that, and I couldn't put me through it, either. So, I got us out the only way I knew how."

"By finding Uncle Bruce," Steve said.

He felt her nod. "By finding Brucie," she agreed. "He tried to deny bein' the Bat and all, but your mama ain't dumb, Dumplin'. I'd done my homework, and the butts matched. Once I explained it all, once I told him about you, he agreed to help."

Steve nodded, listening to his mother's heart beating against his ear. He glances down at the mallet again, tightens his grip, and takes a deep breath. "Thank you," he said, "for the gift and for telling me. I'll do good with it, I promise."

"That's my boy," Harley said, pulling back and ruffling his hair. "Now, lemme explain that Jester Logic to ya."

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Hawkins remains boring even after meeting Eddie. After all, Eddie's in high school (his second attempt at senior year, apparently), and Steve...isn't. He should be, probably, but there's no way he's stepping one foot in that suburban nightmare of a building. He can feel the normalcy, the utter boredom, oozing from the place, and he'd rather not subject himself to that.

So, he spends his day wandering around Hawkins, getting a feel for the little town until he could navigate the place blindfolded. He can do the same in Gotham, but it's more impressive there with the winding streets and sprawling sidewalks. Here, it's nothing special.

The most interesting part of his day is when he's sitting on the roof of a video store, one leg dangling over the edge with the other pulled to his chest so he can rest his arm on his knee. He's about halfway through a cigarette when a cop car pulls into the lot and a middle-aged man steps out.

He looks up at Steve, frowning as he calls up, "You shouldn't be there, son."

"I ain't your son," he calls back, grinning as he takes another drag and blows smoke out as the guy rests his hands on his belt. It reminds him so much of Gotham PD rookies trying to posture that Steve can't help laughing. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?"

"I'm serious, kid," the cop says, apparently ignoring Steve's question. "It's dangerous up there. If you don't come down, I'm gonna have to call the Fire Department to bring the ladder."

Steve sighs and puts his cigarette out on the roof. He gets up, stretches his arms above his head, and stands on the ledge of the roof. He grins at the cop, casually stepping into empty air and hearing the guy shout as he falls. He lands in a crouch on the awning over the door, swings to hang from it, and lands on his feet on the sidewalk.

It wasn't even much of a fall, but the cop looks like he's about to have a heart attack. Steve glances at the badge on his chest. "We done now, Officer Hopper?" he asks.

"Don't do that again," Hopper says, pointing a finger at Steve, "Or I will drag your ass to the station and call your parents."

Steve snorts, doing his best to hold his smile back. "I'll keep that in mind, sir," he says, giving a mocking two-finger salute before turning on his heels and walking down the street.

After a few blocks, he veers off into the forest, figuring he'll wander around the trees for a while before going to the Hideout to bother Bev and stare at Eddie and quietly pray someone else is gonna look for a fight.

Did he mention Hawkins is boring? Because it's fucking boring.

Steve sighs, kicking a stick as he shoves his hands into his jacket. He idly notes the forest is healthy. Sure, a few pieces of litter are strewn around, but it's not as bad as the parks in Gotham can get. Poison Ivy would find this place barely passable, which is hard to manage, and he's tempted to call her when he gets home to tell her about it.

He hums softly as he walks, enjoying the sounds of the forest until they just...stop.

The entire forest falls silent, which is weird; forests are too full of life to go silent. Even the bugs seem to have frozen in place, too scared to risk making a sound by moving. Steve stops, looking around him with a frown and trying to figure out what's caused this.

He gets the answer a second later when he hears a scream. The voice sounds young and cracks slightly, so it definitely belongs to a child. Despite himself, Steve can't help grinning as he takes off in the direction of the scream.

This is the most exciting thing to happen in the four weeks he's been stuck in Hawkins. As he runs through trees and easily jumps over bushes to take the shortest path, he makes guesses on what he'll find. Maybe Hawkins has a villain that's only now showing up. Maybe the town has a secret alligator or something that's decided to have a midday snack. Hell, maybe someone just decided to be a dick today.

He realizes every guess is wrong when he slides into a clearing to see a few kids (two boys, one girl) surrounded by some weird dog-looking...things. They have heads but no faces, crouched low to the ground and growling at the kids they've cornered. There's around ten of them, which would normally make Steve hesitate, but he's so desperate at this point for a real fight that he doesn't care.

Instead, he reaches over his shoulder, thinks about how fucking hilarious it's gonna be to jump out of nowhere with a giant mallet, and grips the handle as he swings it over his shoulder. "Hey, monster mutts!" he shouts, grinning when all the monsters and the kids finally notice him. "Let's play."

Pure, unfiltered joy rushes through him when the first monster-dog jumps at him. Steve's eyes are bright and his grin is positively feral as he swings the mallet and sends it flying into a tree. He roundhouse kicks another dog, using the momentum to bring his foot down on the head of a third before smashing its body with the mallet.

"Are you insane?!" one of the kids shouts.

"Certifiably!" he shouts back, watching as another monster-dog jumps at him. He waits for the perfect moment to back flip, bringing his feet under the dog to send it flying. He brings the mallet up as he lands, clocking another monster under the jaw. It yelps, crashing into another dog.

"Where'd this guy even come from?" the girl asks, turning to look at the boys with her.

"I don't know, but I'm happy to let him deal with the demodogs."

Oh. That's what they're called. Steve hums softly at the name, grinning as he twirls the mallet and swings with all his strength at one of the demodog. He rests the mallet on his shoulder like a baseball bat, watching the demodog arch in the air with an appreciative whistle. "Solid air," he says, nodding once before looking at the remaining demodogs.

There's only three, the others scattered in the clearing. He can't tell if they're dead or not, but he could always smash them to mush when he's done. Steve grins at the remaining dogs. "C'mon, then," he says, only to be filled with disappointment when they creep back, turn heel, and run.

"Damn, that's no fun," Steve says, sighing as he rests the mallet on the ground and leans on the handle. He looks at the kids. "You guys okay?"

The girl has orange hair pulled back into a messy braid. She's staring at him like he's got two heads but is kind of impressed by it. One of the boys has curly hair being smothered by his hat, and the other is wearing a basketball jersey. They're also staring at Steve like he's crazy. "Dude," the curly-haired one says, "that was awesome!"

"Where'd you get that mallet from?" the girl asks.

"Jester Logic," Steve explains, shrugging as he picks the mallet up and walks over. "Wanna hold it?"

When the girl lights up, he passes the mallet to her, snorting when she immediately staggers under its weight. "How do you hold this so easily?"

"Jester Logic. Again. It's funnier when other people find it heavy."

"That makes no sense," basketball jersey says.

"Who are you?" curly hair asks.

"Steve. Moved here recently. What about y'all?"

"Dustin," curly hair says.

"Lucas," basketball jersey says.

"Max," the girl says, her voice strained until Steve takes the mallet back, twirling it like it weighs nothing.

"Great. Nice to meet y'all. Now, what the fuck were those?"

"How much time you got?" Dustin asks.

Steve grins, thinking he's finally found something that can keep him entertained when he's not hanging around Eddie. "Plenty."

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Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@nectandra, @y4r3luv, @just-a-tiny-void,

#steddie #steddie fic #harlequin prince #steve deserves good parents actually #steve harrington #harley quinn #bruce wayne #jim hopper #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #dc comics crossover #wayne family adventures crossover #i kinda let the muse take over with this one actually #unhinged steve harrington #as he deserves #poison ivy #robins

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wakandas · 6 months ago

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briefing | directory

#bishop #triage #amazing baby #lucas bishop #christopher muse #xmen #x men #x-men #my art

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tempest-toss · 2 months ago

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[Koichi's ears twitched.]

Cynthia is waking up. I heard her yawn.

- Koichi @white-rabbits-captain

:0! Can dad and I meet her?

#((he doesnt know Fenrir has already seen Cynthia.))#shady person #Luca #Another muse #Koichi

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kaitlinamberxo · 7 months ago

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“Don't lecture me, Obi-Wan! I see through the lies of the Jedi. I do not fear the dark side as you do. I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new Empire.”

kaitlin's 100 favorite fictional muses — 43/100: Anakin Skywalker

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raikkonens · 1 year ago

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michelangelo.....caravaggio......wish u were here babes 💔 you would've been obsessed with them i just know it

#cele as caravaggio's muse.....yeah #marco bezzecchi #luca marini #enea bastianini #pecco bagnaia #celestino vietti #motogp

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sensitivehandsomeactionman · 3 months ago

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Rewatched 1x03 Dead in the Water (this is a really long one, so I added a "read more" break)

This episode 100% gobsmacked me in the face with Jensen's beauty all the way through. It's unreal, shocking. There's a simple mystery story, but the real mystery is how anyone can have a normal conversation with that face in the room? Thank you, Kim Manners.

Thank you also for the bleak mood of the story. Several unsolved deaths and a failing dam; the townsfolk seem puzzled and depressed in their dreary surroundings. It has the aura of a deteriorating Rust Belt town already mourning its impending doom.

Sam is impatient to follow the (nonexistent?) trail to Dad. Dean has to persuade Sam to do the monster of the week as this town is vaguely "along the way." Silly excuses for a MOTW aside, I do like that character-wise, pretty consistently throughout the series, Dean is a "trust the process" guy. When he's at a loss, he'll revert to the familiar steps of the hunt till there's another lead or inspiration hits. Very workman-like. (By season 7 it morphs into a more existential "fake it till you make it" survival strategy.)

We move on to them hitting the road in the gleaming Impala. Flirty Dean at the diner becomes flirty Dean at the sheriff's office. Andrea isn't buying what he's selling, and we get a little light comedy. Sam's "Name three children that you even know" is a nice bit of misdirection to imply Dean has no connection to kids. We and Sam are about to learn differently.

Sam's research uncovers that Lucas witnessed his Dad's death, setting up a parallel to Dean's loss of Mary. Dean's attention gravitates to Lucas, and his empathy opens a window for us into Dean's own childhood trauma. When Lucas gives Dean a drawing, I feel like Andrea's look of surprise towards Dean mirrors our own. Maybe there's more to him than that brash beauty.

There's a hint that Lucas has premonitions -- I love that they're laying the groundwork for premonitions, soon to be significant for Sam -- and can give them clues through his drawings. Dean's confession about being scared and thinking his Mom would want him to be brave is delivered with honesty, almost matter-of-fact. It's all the more poignant. I think it easily taps into how we all remember the loneliness of childhood sadness as well as the instinctive desire at that age to make our parents proud. This time instead of Andrea we get to see Sam register surprise at this reveal from Dean.

Giant Sam is able to pull nude Andrea from the haunted bath. I'm a bit distracted by the technical need to not reveal too much of her body, and I can't help but worry about actresses being put into those circumstances during filming. More memorable is Dean saving Lucas because of that emotional connection between them. I love the physicality that J2 imbue into the action, especially when they're clearly doing their own stunts.

The first two episodes seemed to be pulling Sam into a reckoning with his past, and while he's not the emotional center of this episode, he's our proxy. Sam is seeing his brother in a new light. It's the same when you're a young adult, re-examining your childhood memories and finding a new perspective on and context for things you long took for granted to be true.

The two brothers together pulling a dead child's buried bicycle from its grave is a chilling visual on loss of innocence, and a fitting metaphor for how their work is unburying their own past along their way to rediscover Dad, their family. And the message here is that the violence didn't stay dead and buried; it needed to be acknowledged and reckoned with to stop the cycle. Psychologically satisfying.

Some echoes from the previous episodes: bathtub danger, creepy ghost kids, bereft and fatally flawed parents, a grateful pretty woman giving Dean a farewell kiss, a rock song sendoff. Toy green army men are connected to Dean's childhood. It was fun to see Amy Acker, as I really enjoyed her in Angel.

I love the melancholy of this episode. The filming is intimate and assured, full of dark rooms, quiet conversations, and grief. Noir shadows highlight Dean's stunning face, which I continue to gif in attempts to hold onto that wonder a few seconds longer. I love all the groundwork this episode lays for the mytharc while being a satisfying standalone ep. Jensen's acting with Lucas, and Jared and Amy's reactions to Dean bring an unexpected, deeper dimension to Dean. The story has begun to roll on the Getting-to-Know-Dean track, and I'm always ready to hop on this ride.

#spn rewatch musing aloud #spn #ep 1.03 #sam #dean #spn meta #spn 1.03 #danistuff #long post #that moment when Dean realizes Lucas is silent because he's scared there's a visible *click* of recognition on his face. *chef's kiss*#dean being the adult (for lucas) that he needed as a child #spn rewatch

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rosesonbreeze · 6 months ago

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@euphoriclusts | Lucas Taylor and Lex Armstrong, Late Night at a Bistro in Paris

Four days. That is how long Lex can manage peace, quiet, and focus before he sets out to find the man of British intelligence. The same mission, but separate work. After all, there was only so much teamwork their nations expected before political interest won out. Yet still, Lex reasons that a fair bit of camaraderie couldn't hurt. Better to attribute it to his innate friendliness, than the image of Lucas' lips so prominently in his mind. It does not take long to track Lucas down. He's not a spy for nothing. Sitting outside of a bistro, the lights of Paris shining on his features, Lex watches him for a moment. Never has he seen a man so beautiful, with such a hideous personality. Finally, Lex breaks the silence, sliding into the seat opposite him. "Of all the bistros in Paris." Lex greets coyly, as if it is a coincidence and not a ploy on his part. "What are we drinking?" He asks, relaxing into his seat. His hand reaching for the bottle of wine at the table, inspecting the label.

#muse: lex #(lucas and lex)#euphoriclusts

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nancydrewwouldnever · 3 months ago

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Is "shoot yourself in the foot"-itis going around for actors with a Netflix series on their IMDB pages?

Because I think he just talked himself right into having his character written off the show.

Chef Guacamole, okay.

#random musings #lucas bravo

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niaxbailey · 17 hours ago

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Nia's Instagram story chronicling her boredom as she waited on a tow truck ft. a @enzoadeluca shoutout.

#edits.#DON'T JUDGE ME #I saw this set on her insta and I was v amused #she 100% chronicles her roadside time LOL #musings.#ft. enzo de luca.#clearly the backdrop changes bc she was driving BUT W.E CLOSE ENOUGH

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celadons-penultimate · 7 months ago

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Just imagine a BISHOP solo (ongoing?) comic series, starring Lucas Bishop (duh) w/ this supporting cast

-Shard Bishop

-X.S.E. partners Randall & Malcolm

-Frenzy

-Tempo

-Manifold

-Triage

-Gambit

-Dr. Cecilia Reyes

-Prodigy

-Surge

-Armor

I remember reading previous solo Bishop comics, and...yeah, his individual character development needs some real TLC. He needs some friends. And he shouldn't HAVE TO be a gruff, angry 1-dimensional hypervigilant action hero all the time.

Or at least, if he is, we should get a good story out of his close friends trying to get him to open up.

Let him be a brother to Synch, let him find relaxation w/ Manifold, let Thunderbird be his bad influence, show us Bishop unwinding w/ video games & laser tag & athletics, let him find love w/ Frenzy, let him reunite w/ his XSE partners + his sister Shard & show them hope in the present day! 🥺

And since, apparently, Marvel thinks he only works w/ time-travel stories, let Bishop face down against Kang (I could be wrong, but I don't recall them ever meeting before), assembling the previously mentioned characters together to defeat the Conqueror's machinations against humanity & mutantkind!

#Lucas Bishop #Shard Bishop #Frenzy #Joanna Cargill #Heather Tucker #Eden Fesi #Christopher Muse #Gambit #Remy LeBeau #Cecilia Reyes #Prodigy #David Alleyne #Noriko Ashida #Hisako Ichiki #Kang the Conqueror #Kang #X-Men #Marvel

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edupunkn00b · 8 months ago

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Meus ex Machina, Chapter 19: Silvertongue and Hesper

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Silvertongue and Hesper - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 2689 - Rated: T - CW: non-graphic torture, blood

Where Janus went in the pre-dawn hours. But first, what happened to Lucas after he left HQ on Remus and Roman's 21st birthday. If you haven’t yet read Progression, stop here and read it now for maximum impact. The flashback at the start of this chapter takes place two days after the end of that story.

For at least the hundredth time and for the second time in the past 72 hours, Lucas punched in the coordinates to The Inn. This time, though, he made the trip out to their old watering hole alone.

The ghost of Re’s giddy nervousness bounced around the ship.

Really? You’re gonna let me have a drink tonight?

Sure, Re. You only turn twenty-one once…

Banking around the scaffold of the Newland Towers, Lucas jumped at the static he picked up from the construction site. For the past three days, Lucas had stayed up, listening, waiting. He’d kept the aircar radio open the whole way out, childishly hoping Jan or Pat or anyone else would reach out. Tell him it was all a mistake. Ask him to come home.

No-one did.

He set down behind the bar and circled his and Jan’s old haunt. A flashing ‘closed’ sign shone in the darkness, and the landing pads out front were vacant, but Andrew’s movement behind the bar cast long shadows in the back windows. The gate was down in front so Lucas returned to the alleyway.

Shiny, new, and with five layers of encryption, the deadbolt on the backdoor was impressive. The rusted screws holding it in place, however, were not and one swift kick opened the door.

“What the hell—” Andrew’s tough guy shout from the bar dropped to a whisper when Lucas came into view. His eyes darted side to side, searching for someone in the empty bar to rescue him.

“Lucas! Hey… hey, um, no hard feelings, right? You know I didn’t call the feds on Re… they just… they just showed up and took care of the body, I…” He stepped back, fumbling along the railing under the taps for his emergency call switch. “But y—you got outta here way before they got here, right?”

“The call button’s two meters to your left,” Lucas responded, flipping a bottle sealer at the powerbank just above the switch. It exploded, sparks raining down on Andrew’s hand. “You wouldn’t want the corpos to just show up coincidentally again, now would you?”

“No, Lucas, no…” He shook his head. “Of course not. C’mon, man… You know it’s not like that. You and Jay have been coming here for years… You all are like family to me.”

Lucas’ voice was quiet. “You took my family from me.” He unbuttoned his coat and peeled it off, revealing a harness with an antique taser and five extra charge canisters. “You took my brother.” Gaze focused on his coat, Lucas walked to the rack next to the front doors and hung it on the closest hook before drawing down the window shade and checking the locks on the door.

“You took my boys.” Andrew’s eyes widened and he slowly straightened, shaking hands raised near his head. Lucas snapped a fresh charge into place and watched the standby light stutter to life. “You took my love.”

Finally he looked up, eyes ablaze. “I’ve lost everything.” Andrew began to tremble, sympathetic nervous system rooting him in place, full freeze mode. As though that could do anything to help him now. Lucas absorbed the fear pouring out with his rank sweat and smiled. “Just as you’re about to.”

Lucas unlocked the taser and flicked it on. A sharp buzzy whine filled the room, followed by the trickling sound of urine dripping from Andrew’s pant leg. Lucas tsked. “So soon? Very well.”

“No, no, no… Lucas… You don—you—you don’t wanna do this… This—this isn’t you.” Lucas aimed the taser and the man’s words jumbled, hands out as though he could stop the assault. “Wha—what would Jan think if he—”

Lucas’ eyes brightened, orange fire pushing away his doubt. “Jan already thinks I’ve been purchased. He already thinks I betrayed him. To you.” He grinned, his smile broad and easy. And empty as the bar. “Let’s show him who I really answer to, shall we?”

“No… no, please, Lucas, no—” With a bang, refurbished guidewires shot out and embedded in the man’s neck. 50,000 volts cut short his pleas, the bright white glow rivaled only by Lucas’ orange eyes.

The slow death of Andrew’s brain ripped away the last shreds of Lucas’ control. Eyes squeezed shut, he doubled over, arms crossed over his head as the bartender’s dying cries shot through his heart. Seared flesh set fire to his nerves. Andrew’s fear his pain would never end. The fear of what would happen when it did.

And Andrew’s last thoughts, the tiny spark of relief that it was finally over.

Lucas slumped to the floor, barely noticing the knot on the side of his own head. He lay there for as long as he dared before pulling himself to his feet and staggering to the toilets.

The lukewarm recycled tap did a poor job on his hands and no matter how hard he scrubbed with the bar’s watered down soap, bits of Andrew’s blood clung to his knuckles and under his nails. In the engraving on his ring.

He took it off, twisting to get it past the callouses, and held it up to the light. Dingy rust filled in the swooping cursive ‘Ja’ on the engraving. Shoulders slumped, he fought the tightening in his throat, the burning behind his eyes.

But he was spent. His eyes flickered weakly under the dingy bathroom lights. A sob ripped up from his throat and hot tears spilled over, dripping down his cheeks and his neck as he rubbed at his stained wedding ring under the faucet.

His wrist buzzed and hope sparked in his chest.

Hope quickly doused by the message on his comm. Instead of a message from Jan, from Pat, from the boys, a bold proximity warning scrolled across the tiny screen.

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 100 YARDS AND CLOSING…

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 50 YARDS AND CLOSING…

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 10 YA—

A small blast was followed by the crash of the front door coming off its hinges. His ring hit the basin, rattling as it rolled around and down the open drain.

“Come out with your hands up! Come out—shit! Look what they did to him! Dear god…” The buzz of a dozen tazers more advanced than his own couldn’t cover the tremor in the pig’s voice. “Arms up! That’s an order!”

Lucas’ comm hummed quietly, a constant vibration against his wrist now.

Auto-distress alert enabled. Contacting HQ in 30… 29… 28… 27…

“We have you surrounded!” Jackboots tromped down the old hardwood floors and came to a stop outside the locked bathroom door. Dust sprinkled from the hinges as they banged on it. “Come out or we’re coming in!”

Lucas turned off the water and watched the numbers tick before tapping Disable just as the distress call countdown hit 1.

His comm screen went dark and he wiped his hands on his pants. “Be out in just a mo’!” he sing-songed. Only Jan would’ve caught the hitch in his voice. Well, Pat, too, most likely. But they weren’t here to care.

He checked the mirror, drying his face and smoothing back his hair. He smiled at the dim but growing amber rings around his eyes, then turned and opened the door.

Rain and hail drummed against the hull, a syncopated beat that dragged Lucas from a deep sleep. He’d been dreaming of home again, of the boys chasing each other through the halls. Pat’s more Teddy Bear-than-Papa Bear warnings to slow down. Re promising Pat they’d try before erupting in laughter with Ro, a soft, calm laugh, nothing like his laughter the last time he’d seen him.

Jan’s smooth hot toddy voice, spice and heat and comfort. His hand, ungloved, unshielded, carding through his hair.

Lucas leaned back and shook his head to clear away the clingy wisps of dream from his mind.

But Jan’s voice only grew louder.

-”We need to talk, Hesper. Where can I find you?”-

Amber light bled through his eyelashes and he smiled. -”Mmm… So formal, ma cheri,”- he purred back. -”And yet so rude! Not even a ‘good morning, how did you sleep? How would you like your tea?”-

Jan’s shield was strong, nothing but a faint buzz was his answer.

He was close. Lucas checked the local time. Technically morning, though the sun wouldn’t be up for hours. It had been winter when they’d met, too. He shook off the thought and lit up the room with his eyes.

-”Is it actually morning where you are?”- Jan asked as though he didn’t know. As though he wasn’t close enough for Lucas to smell his cologne.

Or maybe he just imagined it.

-”I have risen with the light…” Lucas pushed a memory of Jan’s smiling face back at him, hair mussed and splayed out on his pillow. He wasn’t sure how much got through Jan’s shield. Or who he was trying to hurt more. -”Does that count as morning in your calculation?”-

-”I wish to speak with you, Hesper,”- he sent, dull and flat and cold.

Lucas checked the sensors. The others weren’t with him. Jan had actually come alone. He chewed at his lip. Whatever this was, the platform was already dotted with intent detonators. If this was some surprise attack, Lucas would soon know. He sighed, his curiosity getting the better of him, and he lowered the gangway.

“Welcome aboard, ma cheri,” he called down the open ramp. An elegant shadow in grey and yellow stepped into view and Lucas bowed, one arm sweeping out. “Wipe your feet before you come up, s’il vous plaît. It’s simply filthy out there.”

Hurrying back to his bunk, he pushed up the platform to hide his bedding and flipped down both benches on either side of the little table where he ate and planned and built most of his tools. He started to sit, then rose again and dispensed two cups of hot water for tea, dropping in sachets from his dwindling stash and set them down across from each other.

By the time Jan turned the corner into the main area of the ship, Lucas was sat back, right arm hooked over the back rest, left leg crossed over the other, ankle to knee. He lowered orange-tinted lenses over his eyes and smiled.

“Welcome aboard,” he repeated, biting his cheek when he realized he’d already run through his script.

“You already said that,” Jan replied, voice smooth. Well, mostly smooth, with only a tiny catch at the end which could just be a bit of his old morning hoarseness. Jan’s mind was completely shielded—fuck he’d gotten good at that—but there was a twitch in his left pinkie and he hesitated before sitting. “I appreciate the hospitality,” he nodded before switching their cups and taking a slow sip from the one that had been in front of Lucas.

“Ah, ma cheri, you wound me…” He shook his head and took the other tea cup, blowing away the steam. “You still don’t trust me.” Lucas clucked his tongue, grateful he’d thought to don his glasses as his eyes burned in the attempt to keep his voice light. “Well?” He looked up over the lip of his cup between sips. “While your company is a pleasure as always…” They could both pretend Jan’s cheeks warmed from the heat of his tea. “You said you had something to discuss with me.”

Jan set down his cup and watched the steam rise. “To be completely honest with you, Luc, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here.”

All Lucas’ powers couldn’t stifle how much he wanted Jan to say his name again, how much he needed Jan to say his name again. He hid his face behind his cup and took another sip to buy time to settle his heart. “Interesting,” he murmured, cracked voice betraying him. Jan’s eyes shot up.

Lucas sat, silent and pinned down by his gaze, until Jan finally continued. “I suppose given everything that’s happened, I…” Jan addressed his cup, lifting it up for another slow sip. “I was so sure we’d done everything we could do to help Re. That we’d given him every safeguard, every protection possible. But…” He shook his head. “If I was wrong about that,” he whispered, more to himself than to Lucas. “What else have I been wrong about?”

“What’s happened?” Lucas leaned forward, reaching for Jan before he could even think to stop himself. “What’s wrong with Re?”

Jan leaned back, eyebrow raised, and sipped his tea. -”You don’t hear him?”- he asked silently.

Brow furrowed, Lucas closed his eyes and reached out. There was the buzz of Jan’s shield, a dark, staticy hole where his feelings should be. A couple asleep in their ship two platforms down. The rumble of families in the surrounding shelters. A little boy crying from a nightmare. And then…

Lucas gasped. Like finally noticing a song playing in the background, he suddenly registered the touch of Re’s mind in the distance. His cup clattered to the table and he leapt to his feet. Re! “You left him alone? Unshielded and alone and—”

“And happy,” Jan murmured to his cup, seated serenely across from him. “And not alone.”

Lucas slowly took his seat, stretching, feeling for any sense he could detect of Re’s thoughts over the distance. He’d moored this ship on the knife’s edge of his own abilities, near enough to hear everyone in HQ. Far enough he wouldn’t be too tempted to listen.

Re was completely unshielded but… he was calm. His thoughts rippled around him, gentle and rhythmic drops on a pond. Sleeping? Given the hour and the wordlessness of his thoughts, probably. A light sleep, no dreams yet, nothing that would trigger a strong emotional response at least. He was calm and content and… happy.

And Jan was right. Re was not alone.

“Is Ro—” He shook his head, answering his own question. No, if Ro had been with him, the boys most certainly would be up and making good trouble around—or outside—the house. No, he was with…

“He’s with Machina,” Jan answered.

“You left him alone with your twitchy bot?” Again, Lucas was on his feet, stomping toward the controls. “You trust him not to hurt him? I know you remember what hap—”

Jan followed and caught his arm, pulling him away from the pilot’s seat. His hand was warm through his gloves, gentle as it lingered on his forearm. “The Muse would never hurt Machina. Never intentionally.”

“I’m not talking about your fucking robot getting hurt! How do you know it won’t hurt Re?”

He never got to answer.

Lucas’ wrist buzzed half a second before a charge rocked the ship. “Get down!” he ordered and pushed Jan to the deck. Another blast hit the other side of the ship.

The glow of his comm screen peeked out from under Jan’s sleeve and he pushed it back. Jan swore. “They’re close. Too many to count.”

Lucas nodded, shifting to tap at his own wrist. Bright white dots surrounded their location. The hull clanked, hurricane clamps tearing at the fuselage. “Damn.”

Jan twisted beneath him, eyes wide and staring at his wrist. “You still wear your—”

He ignored the question and pushed to his feet before offering a hand to Jan. “You turned off your proximity alarm.”

“Had to,” he muttered, brushing imagined dust off his cloak. “It went off every day at the DC. Don’t avoid the question. Why do you still wear—”

Another blast rocked the ship. The corpos were getting bolder. And closer. A second blast was followed by a pained cry. They were now near enough to trigger the intent charges.

Lucas shook his head, eyeing the roof hatch. “We need to get out of here.”

The outer hull blew and jackboots tromped up the gangway, comms crackling. Lucas dropped the inner blast door just before they reached the top, then grabbed Jan and a pack. He sealed off the corridor from the inside just before the corpos entered the main control room.

They were now trapped inside the ship.

-“We need help,”- Jan corrected and pressed the HQ alert on his wrist. -“Now.”-

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