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dahniwitchoflight · 5 years ago

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Homesquared Chapter 3

So i have seen smidgens of this on tumblr but just havent had time to do anything about it

and jesus christ Callie Jade is so horrifyingly creepy, and you know the things she’s narrating the characters can also hear which is also hilarious, it just reminds me of that comic about how “yeah sure there’s a giant ominous red floating eyeball in your kitchen, constantly staring, constantly judging, but can you be sure that’s a bad thing?”

and then someone tries to talk to it, but it doesn’t answer and the person goes “fine be an asshole i dont give a fuck”

thats exactly the dynamic happening with Callie Jade right now

Grumpy DaveKat is hilarious

and Hey! we finally get to see how people look, I really dig Roxy’s look

“ROXY: dude doesnt "believe" in "substances"”

This line from Roxy makes sense, as a person wholly ensconced in the idea of their own self and always being in control of themselves and their own mind and faculties they would hate anything at all that causes that iron mental grip to slip

That’s probably why Dirk avoided sleep even when his dreamself was awake, even sleeping and dreaming was considered a form of himself losing control over himself that he couldn’t integrate the idea himself and his dreamself were the same person rather than two identical people and also I remember that the Jujupop didn’t affect him either

Later on Dirk in the narrative will say something about his own trauma, but not really go into what it is, but if I had to hazard a guess (and really it’s not much of a guess at this point)

Dirk probably has memories of a version of himself being under the mental influence of another, Lil Cal, LE, Doc Scratch etc what have you, So Narrative Dirk may actually be a version of Dirk who’s not quite yet poisoned into being a version of those 3, but his words also hinted that just because he’s aware of a certain way that he’s acting doesn’t make him more likely to stop it

Like he’s equating that you can be aware of the influence something else is having on you and in the exact ways it is influencing you without being able to stop, the exact thing he is traumatized and afraid of being most likely

So his one driving fear, is he does not want to lose control of his own soul, his own being, his own way of life and existing, to something else, something other. Even though he most likely is fully aware of the things and mannerisms of the other that have slipped into himself? Like he’s probably fully aware of the similarities between himself and those mentioned above, but maybe the thing that he’s hinging on is that instead of those guys poisoning him into being like them, instead perhaps he can convince himself that it’s his own self influencing others to act like himself instead. His influence reaching out and expanding instead of shrinking as he fears it

Anyway, Dave and Kanaya have a cute moment, I really like that

We get a nice shot of them in shadows against a backdrop of stars and Kanaya starts talking about a story Rose would once tell so that’s story is already gonna be dripping in metaphorical potential

“ A Wriggler Story About A Young Prince And The Beloved Flower He Loved And Lost”

Though that’s a story I’m actually familiar with

KANAYA: A Singular Wild Rose He Failed To Cherish When He Had Her

KANAYA: And His Journey Of Discovering What She Meant To Him All Along

KANAYA: Culminating In A New Quest To Find Her And Win Her Back

KANAYA: The Story Comments On The Nature Of Friendship

KANAYA: And Of Course In Turn Love

KANAYA: How Once They Connect There Is No Distance Or Circumstance That Can Seperate Them

KANAYA: How The Worlds In Each Ones Mind Take On Contours Shaped By Their Memories Of The Other

KANAYA: Places And Moments And Orbiting Passersby Becoming More and More Entangled In The Context Of Their Mutual Affections

KANAYA: Such As With A Garden Calling To Mind An Engagement Once Declared There

KANAYA: Or Something To That Fucking Effect

So obviously Dirk and Rose

Dirk has Rose with him, discovers an actual genuine connection with her, likely because he already viewed her as an equal, despite his manipulations of her, and chapter 4 spoilers but he genuinely wants to play a game with her when there really isn’t any reason for it, so he is actually curious to see who comes out on top of it, Him or Her, so Dirk is probably in some way desperate to have an actual equal partner in some way instead of drowning in himself all the time, not surprising. But Rose, obviously, will leave and reject him, likely when the manipulation comes around and is revealed/Kanaya and all them reach her/that part of the story

But then the story tinges onto a romantic nature and is framing Dirk trying to get her back as a romantic quest to save his partner/friend something something love and friendship, “no distance can separate them” yeah that doesn’t sound like obsession with the first person you’ve ever truly seen as an equal/a real person,

yeah “A Garden calling to Mind an engagement once declared there” definitely sounds like the garden of eden/adam and eve paradise fantasy that Dirk has been trying for some reason, to setup on the new planet

Really begs the question for why Dirk cares at all to do all of this? Except we now the answer is already its not the thing itself he cares about, its the value hes putting into the story as something that generates interest in the audience

He doesn’t care about actually making a society or being gods or whatever, he just knows thats what the audience wants to see and cares about so therefore he does it

and the reason he does all of THAT is because is ties into his trauma of his sense of self eroding away becoming a person he’s unfamiliar with

I wonder how he’s going to handle how much he’s going to change in order to fit the role of the story he’s writing when all is said and done

the Dirk at the end of this is going to be very different than the Dirk that started in Homestuck, despite all of his fears and intentions, and that he could not say all of it wasnt his own doing because of the iron control he made sure to have from the very beginning, I honestly think that will be kind of a shock for him if a meeting like that ever one day happened

Specifically for the fact that he seems to be aware of the romantic in nature tropes hes writing himself and Rose into and for now still seems to be avoiding them, not having gone that far, but, well

Maybe this is where we’ll start to see where Doc Scratch’s odd tendencies starting coming from

You know he was always really weird with Rose and Vriska (Maybe because he sees Light players all as extensions of Rose herself?)

Anyway yeah this is def the story metaphor I think we’re going to see in this, but Kanaya doesn’t fully get it, she thinks the story refers to herself and Rose

DAVE: that seems kind of wack for a kids story

KANAYA: Its Possible I Am Projecting Slightly In This Specific Circumstances

KANAYA: It Was Just A Metaphor

KANAYA: But In A Way I Feel As If It Is the Greater Universe Trying To Tell Me Something

KANAYA: It May Simply Stem From My Longing To See Her Again And How Much Is Indicative Of Something More Sinister

Which is cool because it makes this opposing connection between Dirk and Kanaya as opposites, which I like because it solidifies a tiny bit more the idea of Sylph being Passive Create to A Prince’s Active destroy.

Oh yeah, there was a tiny hint of Mind metaphor as well, can’t forget Terezi is with them

KANAYA: How The Worlds In Each Ones Mind Take On Contours Shaped By Their Memories Of The Other

KANAYA: Places And Moments And Orbiting Passersby Becoming More and More Entangled In The Context Of Their Mutual Affections

KANAYA: Such As With A Garden Calling To Mind An Engagement Once Declared There

Basically the idea that your experiences of a person and your memories of them shape who they become as well, the boundary between you and I is controlled by both of us, so each has an effect of the personality Heart of the other through our own decisions and Mind

like the way people tend to mimic those they like and want to be close to, or the way they actively try to distance themselves and what they are like from those they hate

But that at all seems to be more about Mind in general than referring to anything specifically Terezi

though it is exactly that understanding of Mind versus Heart and how one affects the other that could make Dirk realize that in the question of the self he’s only had half the picture the whole time, he’s only had the understanding of Heart and has thus far not been able to understand how Mind plays a role in the sustaining of the self, how what other people do to help you to be you, which is his entire philosophical conundrum

“DAVE: the dude youve spent the last 7 years convincing yourself isnt an egomaniacal anime villain

DAVE: and who isnt actually lying in wait to completely decimate your life and your emotions and shit“

oh, that makes me sad, this is def bringing up some bad trains of thought for Dave ):

“ KARKAT: KANAYA BARELY EVEN TALKS, CALLIOPE WON’T LEAVE THEIR CABIN, JADE JUST FLOATS AROUND LIKE A CREEPY BALLOON THAT’S MOSTLY MADE OF HAIR.

OH RIGHT, I forgot Calliope is actually WITH them on their journey, despite seeming to want absolutely fuck all with Jade Callie, I totally thought she was gonna stay back on Earth C but I guess not!

It’s so odd to see them so terrified of their alternate self like this when they’ve interacted mildly before. I still don’t know what to think of that much, other than they seem to be doing that weird thing that the other kids went through, like how John scribbled clowns on the walls unknown to himself for the longest time due to Gamzee’s unseen mental influence

that’s exactly the type of shit Dirk would be afraid of, so I wonder if that’s what Callie was afraid of as well? Maybe its Jade Callie that’s influencing them this way not Gamzee, to scribble strange things on the walls and not come out, but it’s the same fear of the other regardless manifesting and changing the self.

It is a very oddly non social thing for Our Calliope to do, when the point of different between the two Callie’s was how social Calliope was versus how antisocial Jade Callie is. Worries me ): but at least they’re here I guess

KARKAT: SOMETIMES IT ALMOST FEELS LIKE WHATEVER SLATHERING MONSTROSITY OF A COSMIC HELLBEAST THAT PUT ALL THIS SHIT INTO MOTION...ACTUALLY LIKES ME?

ROXY: fucked up if tru

Karkat is really popular as a character in the fandom lol

and that’s that one, time to get to Chapter 4, which has a lot more juicy exposition

With all the Garden of Eden metaphors though I can’t help but think of the Apple of the Garden of Eden when I think of “story exposition” now

The juicy tantalizing forbidden red fruit that when you bit into it you suddenly understand and know things you did not before and you’re eyes are opened, I wonder if that’s enough to just make Apples a solid Symbol of Light in Homestuck’s context? Most of it’s association with knowledge is external to Homestuck, just referenced symbolically, it’s not actually used in any cirumstances pertaining to knowledge, but more as the metaphor of it being the gate to leave the garden of eden, more like a teleporter, Rapture and Revelation in general rather than just Knowledge itself

aka my new headcanon is that one thing needed to Alchemize a Transportalizer is inexplicably going to be an Apple, if that ever comes up at all

#Homesquared #Homestuck^2 #Dirk Strider #Rose Lalonde #Terezi Pyrope #Apples are the essence of Portal Technology #long post

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aveaugvstus · 4 years ago

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❛ You made a mistake. Everybody makes them. Even me. I’ve made many. It’s only fair that you made one. ❜

it’s strange how the passage of time warps and bends around the shape of the people in your life, the silhouettes they carve from the liminal space of your soul — it’s like that thing about stars and how when you’re looking up at the night sky, you’re actually looking at stars that could be already be dead a hundred years ago, their fading requiem only just now reaching earth’s stratosphere, a thousand light years away.

this is what it feels like to see vladimir standing in the door frame of his childhood bedroom looking like the ghost of fuck-ups past. ( he has no lock now, which is mildly insulting and excruciatingly patronising; he’s an addict, not bloody suicidal, but to his family the distinction might as well be non-existent. ) he looks different, and also like nothing has changed at all in a way that august can’t quite pinpoint. it’s as if he’s lost his ability to translate him; the myriad tiny, insignificant nuances and habits he used to obsessively decrypt with his very own rosetta stone, a whole stele for the vladimir yamatov script, forgotten like a dead language. or maybe he no longer cares to. he doesn’t know if that should make him feel nostalgic, or furious, or bittersweet. feeling particularly strongly about anything these days is a herculean task in and of itself. which, he supposes, was the original sin that instigated everything to begin with.

he thinks he can remember asking vladimir to come home.

he thinks he can almost remember begging, knees in the dirt and gravel scraping his flesh raw, over voicemail like a needy fling who had accidentally gone and done the thing you and every other idiot knows you’re not supposed to do, and fallen.

he thinks he might have begged for absolution.

but that could have also been the sixth line of blow cut with ketamine and procaine and only god and the devil knows what else ( he’d been desperate, it was three a.m. in camden ) and he’s composed text messages nay, goddamn fucking letters, ad nauseam, ad infinitum, like he’s on the receiving end of some dear john bullshit, and he’s never been sure which of them actually made it to the send button. he’s smashed, or lost, or misplaced, half a dozen phones, for all the futile effort to replace them. collateral damage in the dawning realisation that vladimir wasn’t replying because he was mercilessly leaving him on read, but because he wasn’t receiving them at all, and judging by his infrequent instagram updates, was doing absolutely fine / fuck him, happy / having the time of his fucking life on his primitive anti-tech detox.

for a moment, he entertains the fleeting, whimsical distraction that this could be yet another delusion. after all, he’s conjured vladimir enough times that this wouldn’t be unusual. ( why, sometimes i’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. ) he has imagined vladimir heartsick, wretchedly beside himself with guilt. he has painted him alabastrine, cold and immovable, patron saint raphael of the lost and the meek indifferent to august’s self-inflicted torment. he has envisioned him lit with madness, seized in catastrophic rage, gripping him by the jaw and rattling his bones till he might see reason. there were other imaginings, too, steeped in the unspeakable, tauntings of an uninhibited mind free to conceptualise the reality of its most ludicrous desire. in the worst dream, the most terrible, most fantastical one, vladimir comes home because of him. for him. it plays out like the final scene of a cult romantic comedy, or the odyssey, maybe, much-enduring odysseus returning home to penelope at last. two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk, their hands meeting as light spills in a flood, the sky pouring out the sun. and he would take his other-soul’s face in his hands and kiss him and say the words this lifetime’s vladimir would never say.

there is, of course, a singular difference in this one. this vladimir. the vladimir he filled his dreams with never looked at him like this. with this curious amalgamation of horror and — most tellingly so; am i not what you expected, vladimir? how did you imagine you would find me? beatific? flourishing? — disgust.

august knows what he looks like. five shades too pale and ashen, like the vivacity has been drained right out of him. a layer of grease shines in his hair, the fade he alway maintains with meticulous care and precision grown out into his natural, unruly curls. he’s not quite skeletal, his frame was always too lean and muscular for that, but he seems perilously thin for his height. it shows in his face, he knows even though he’s been avoiding mirrors and isn’t allowed one anyway, because a) addicts use those to cut their coke, and b) suicidal ones might be inclined to break them, he knows because of the way his mum looks at him when she comes into his room to bring him his meals three times a day like a convict. it hurts him a little, more than the physical pain of looking at vladimir, of hearing his voice, that he sees him like this. he had not been informed in advance that vladimir would come calling. if he had, he would’ve — he doesn’t know what he would’ve done ( attempted an escape, maybe; broken his twelve-day sobriety, maybe ) but he might’ve. cleaned up a little. tried to look less like a shell of himself. augustus has always been vain, has always been a gilded, preening thing who took great pride in being pretty and well-loved for it. it pains him. not to be even that anymore. he is rusted. tarnished.

if he had known, maybe he would have told vladimir not to come.

now that he is here, he is split in two, cleaved in half by the urge to tell him to go and the more pressing compulsion to make him stay to never go never leave again never go anywhere that is out of his sight out of his life out of him.

his ambivalence makes him poor company and a poorer conversationalist. not that this is entirely his fault — what are they supposed to do? chat about the weather and trade perfunctory banter just to fill the air? he’d rather do a line right here in front of vladimir.

your hair is longer, august had said. the only thing other than what are you doing here, which had come out of his mouth, part-shock and part-petulance, when his mother had opened the door and presented vladimir like some screwed-up surprise gift for reaching a whopping week and a half of not being a fucking disappointment to everyone around him. so, now he can disappoint the person that matters most fundamentally, tortuously, to him in the world, too. how delightful.

vladimir’s hair being longer is the only thing he can think to say that doesn’t make him want to give in to the pulverising sensation in his head, in his bones, in his chest, screaming for a deus ex machina reprieve. if this is what they have come to — the two of them, who had spent their entire lives talking about nothing and everything till they could anticipate exactly what the other’s response would be — augustus is glad he didn’t come home sooner. he looks handsome, which feels like another slight against august’s pride. rugged and sun-soaked like a male model cum travel influencer, but one that actually does something meaningful with his life. time, and sunlight, and the kind of hard labour that builds muscle definition and character, has certainly been kinder to him than it has been to august. he doesn’t say you look good because that would sound like he has any remotely positive feelings towards this interaction, and, indeed, the cause of vladimir’s looking like a golden, newly-anointed demi-god. it seems they have traded places. or maybe vladimir is exactly who he was always supposed to be. and august is, too.

august supposes it’s the silence, and the reality that vladimir cannot abide it either, that prompts him to say what he does.

what happened?

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, he drifts in the absence of an answer because he is allowed to, because he is technically, partially an invalid now, and people who are sick are allowed to be not altogether there.

( sick. malaised. he likes this word for it. he likes that there is a scientific explanation for what he is. a brain disease. a diagnosable mental illness. see, vladimir, he almost wants to say, a little deranged part of him finally gleeful at not having a pedestal to stand on anymore, you aren’t special. i’m fucked up now, too. )

well, vladimir. it’s a very long story that i don’t care to repeat as i’ve recounted the tales to you so many times through missives you were never inclined to respond to. there was angel, and bennie, there was emmy, and good old molly. ah, and charlie, my favourite of the lot. ours was a whirldwind love affair. but it turns out i loved him more than he loved me. seems like i have a nasty little habit of doing that. it’s one i haven’t learned to kick yet.

god — august...

it’s the look of wrenching disgust, again. the thing that twists and snakes across vladimir’s face and awakes something snarling and animal shackled to august’s throat, something that slams into him chest-first and doesn’t stop until it’s gone right through him, left him raw, all bloodied edge and teeth.

what happened? what happened? what’s the point of asking now when it’s all been said and done. how long am i supposed to carry this black mark? until everyone around me deigns to let me bury it? i’m not a fucking child.

it’s not an explanation, which is what vladimir is after. he would know, however, if he had bothered to answer august any of those times. he would know, he would have known, if he hadn’t left august in their bed that morning at the warwickshire summer palace and run from everything they’d ever touched. they’d had the world world in their hands in that bed, in that room, in that place of stolen summer outside of time, outside of life itself. they could have had — everything. everything august had to give. and he gave it, and vladimir looked him in the eye and decided it was not for him.

you made a mistake. everybody makes them. even me. i’ve made many. it’s only fair that you made one.

he feels each word grate right through him, each syllable catching on his skin like little knives, the thin strand keeping him tethered to the present grinding down into dust and bone. he doesn’t blame vladimir for what happened to him. he blames him for leaving. but it’s a mistake that vladimir won’t — can’t acknowledge because to do that, he would have to admit to the thing he doesn’t want to say, or can’t say, and august can’t make him say it. that’s what made him do it, the first night at that grimy, filthy club in the berlin underground. that’s what made him want to trade his soul for just a night of rapture so euphoric he wouldn’t have to remember how fucking miserable it was to be unloved by the one person you thought you were meant for. but then, it’s never just one night is it? it couldn’t have been. you don’t get over something like that with one goddamn night.

( if august were honest, and his heart not surrendered, he would say it was this, too: that vladimir could walk away from them, has always been able to walk away, and think nothing of it. him. that vladimir had found purpose and higher meaning in something other than themselves and the stupid, foolish, boyish dreams they used to talk about like they might someday happen. that august had disappointed him somehow by, what, not being enough? not living up to the unearned greatness that vladimir saw in him and was supposedly the only person in the world who could? that vladimir would forge a path for himself in life that diverged from august and not feel his soul rending itself in half to be half a world away from him, and survive it. — it was enough to ruin him then, it still ruins him now. )

“if you’ve come all this way just to lecture to me, you can sod the fuck off back to phuket or hanoi or fucking antarctica if that’s what you want. maybe there’s some disease-riddled penguins out there that you can save to sate your saviour complex. saint francis of assisi. a non-shitty mother teresa. malala.”

he’s exhausted before the first word leaves his mouth, strung out just with the effort of starting, but he can’t stop them now any more than he can stop the hunger and thirst clawing at his head howling for a drop of blood, a pound of flesh, any part of him that it can cannibalise in retribution for starving. it’s easier to be cruel than to be wounded, better to be the conqueror than the fallen — but right now it just feels like he is going through his twelfth or two hundredth day of withdrawal and the boy he loves has come back but not the way august wanted and not the way he wants to be wanted. it hurts just to look at him, it hurts to have him looking back. every part of his body aches with dependence, codependence. they’re the definition of it. see what happens to me when you are not in my life?

alexander lay on hephaestion’s bed for three days. but you are not him. you are just a spoiled, arrogant, silver-spooned nothing who will never amount to greatness, glory, or anything at all. it is no wonder he would not have you.

his rage breaks, like sea foam crashing against cliffs; it rends and shatters down the fault line mapped throughout his body, the one that winds from his throat to his sternum, down to his thighs and feet, and aches forever mostly at his heel. helpless to the unbidden trembling of his hands as he curls them around the sheets of his bed, unmoored. he looks small and disarmed, more lost than he’s ever been with vladimir by his side. it doesn’t mean the same thing anymore, does it? not if he cannot make vladimir stay. whatever they had between them — is it damaged, now. they could rebuild it, but the foundations would still bear the memory of where the cracks lie. he would still remember this look on vladimir’s face.

he has looked at him a thousand times, and there has always been an echo reverberating between them. the wavelength of an elegy he knows the words to like they are writ upon heartbeat, upon headstone. there have been other faces, but vladimir’s eyes have always been the same. fathomless as distant stars in an entire universe light years away and yet close enough to touch if he dared to. if it is fate, or circumstance, or a reiteration of the immortality that stands between them and their freedom, then he already knows how this ends. vladimir knows it, too. it doesn’t make him want it any less. it doesn’t make him suffer for it any less. this ache he has spent an eternity chasing after, this feeling of being so incandescently alive that even death cannot keep them apart, this is what vladimir ran from. augustus cannot blame him. if he was not the one who always outlived him, he’d do the same.

“is this why you came back? because you think you can save me, too?”

#SING O MUSE AND THROUGH ME TELL THE STORY. / ASK.#HE IS HALF OF MY SOUL AS THE POETS SAY. / VLADIMIR.#T. / MODERNITY.#addiction tw #drug abuse tw #suicide mention tw #this is going to make you think twice about ever casually sending me memes #hehe

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esteliel · 5 years ago

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Les Mis - The Staged Concert

Review time!

In case you're going to sit in the grand circle, don't worry - the strange construction of lighting rigs rises up as soon as the music starts, and from the second row side seat I had a good view of basically the entire stage.

I went with a cheap seat since I'm not a fan of Boe & Ball, and, well. Alfie Boe is exactly as he was when I last saw him in the role on Broadway, meaning that he sings it BEAUTIFULLY - truly, technically his Bring Him Home is to die for! - but he's just not much of an actor and I think it's that lack of expression that makes him come across as lowkey pissed off during the entire show. I was wondering if the concert staging would help, because that is basically how he's always sung his big numbers even on Broadway - as if he weren't acting in a show, but singing Who Am I or Bring Him Home contextless in a concert setting. I think it does help a little - thanks to all the cuts/lack of staging, he doesn't get to have aggressive interactions with Cosette, for example - but since everyone else does act, I still really feel the lack of it from him; the artfulness of his singing just stands out a lot more to me. YMMV, of course; his Bring Him Home is so otherworldly beautiful that I'm sure just about every reviewer will give him 5 stars, but I just need more of an emotional presence in addition to the singing to connect with it.

Michael Ball as Javert - oh dear. In basically 90% of his scenes, he's a somewhat hammy, nice Uncle Ball who has decided to dress up as Javert. His Stars wasn't bad, I thought - it was the only time I felt any sort of determination coming from him. Which, given that this is JAVERT he's playing, umm...

His Suicide wasn't terrible either, but again there wasn't much of an emotional connection. I never once had that sensation of being drawn into this emotional maelstrom of despair alongside him - I was just watching Michael Ball pretending to be Javert, instead of watching Javert, if that makes sense.

For those who care about costume details, Ballvert has a ponytail, and he comes out for the sewer scene with his hair loose and a gun in his hand which he points at Valjean. I always like stagings where Javert gets to threaten Valjean with a gun in the sewers but there was just so little emotional turmoil involved here that it didn't do much for me. :(

Furthermore, his recitative parts (and actually large parts of this production) are sung SO SLOWLY that it felt incredibly strange to me. Especially because there are so many cuts of scenes that are vital for the plot/the atmosphere, and yet the songs are slowed down so much that I feel like 30 minutes out of the 2:30 runtime is thanks to the slowness. I wonder, did they slow it down intentionally, or is it because the concert version score is from before they sped up the production...?

Carrie's Fantine left me cold. I was sad about that; her Eponine never did much for me, but surprisingly I REALLY enjoyed her in Heathers. Her Fantine was just... barely there. She was more Carrie on stage than Fantine, which was always how I felt about her Eponine as well. And she couldn't even make the most of her one big moment with I Dreamed A Dream; I don't know, she just seemed quite weak in the lower parts of her song.

Matt Lucas as Thénardier does the same stupid adlibbing that I hate so much about Thénardiers. With the slapstick humor for the Thénardiers that Cammack productions go for I'm usually at least mildly entertained the first time I see someone in the role, and it's only when you see them do the exact same stupid slapstick routine again and again and again that I really start to hate them, but Matt Lucas annoyed me right from the start. The audience LOVED HIM though, he got HUGE applause for basically everything he did and played with the audience, asking for more applause, telling them to stop it, but I really didn't enjoy him at all. And with the concert staging, you can't even focus on the antics of the ensemble during Master of the House, sigh.

Shan Ako as Eponine: her On My Own was lovely, she sang it very well - but I think her character was the one most affected by the concert cuts because I don't think she even gets to do more than just On My Own and then dying in Marius' arms (plus her bit in A Heart Full of Love). There's no young Eponine in the show at all, so we first see her show up in Paris, and I wonder, if I didn't know Les Mis so very well, what I would have made of her as a character?

And the thing is, one of the reasons I love Rob Houchen so much is that he usually has a lot of chemistry with everyone he interacts with, but since in this staged concert version, she has to die standing up while hugged by him, I really didn't get as much emotion out of that scene as even mediocre Eponines can do. Which is a shame, because after her On My Own I really believe she could do a lot more with the show, if the cuts/the concert staging didn't take away most opportunities to do so.

Lily Kerhoas' Cosette is a letdown, she's just very weak throughout; both singing- and acting-wise she really paled next to Marius and Eponine. I wish we could have had Amara in this, who always had SUCH presence on stage. :/

Simon Bowman's Bishop is so lovely! His powerful voice! <3 It's so good to see an actual older Bishop on stage instead of the usual under-30 ensemble member.

And I've been so looking forward to FINALLY seeing Earl Carpenter on a stage again, and he is SO good as Bamatabois - he's clearly really having fun with the role, and he's giving 1000% acting every second he's on, but at the same time this is what makes it really frustrating because argh, to waste Earl on Bamatabois who has 2 minutes on stage? A crime. ;___;

I've already talked about how much I love Rob Houchen, but honestly, everyone knows that I'm not in this fandom for the amis, but the most joy I've felt in this production was at the start of ABC Café when Rob Houchen, Bradley Jaden and Raymond Walsh were on stage together for the first time. That combination is the true dreamcast in this production. My favourite Marius, Enjolras and Grantaire ever. And all of them were so good! <3

Raymond is such a good actor, but again due to the staging he doesn't get to do most of the small amis interaction details that always make him such a joy to watch on stage when I usually dislike most Grantaires, but he makes good use of what opportunities he gets.

Rob is lovely - pretty much the only actor I've ever seen who can imbue the bloodless role of Marius with an endearing, youthful charisma and who usually manages to have beautiful chemistry with his Cosettes. (That he doesn't really this time is the fault of the not very present Cosette, alas.)

He does have great chemistry with Enjolras and Grantaire though, and his Empty Chairs was beautiful.

There were only ever two Enjolras' in my life I have truly, deeply loved - Bradley Jaden and Wallace Smith. It's been so long since Bradley!Enjolras that I was starting to question myself - was he really that good? Was I maybe remembering wrong? Has he maybe aged out of the role now, after his year as Javert?

And then he came onto stage for the first time and I knew that I hadn't remembered wrong at all. He has this incredible stage presence and charisma that draws you in and commands the stage, and where his Javert is weirdly emotional about stars, lol, and incredibly, insanely, fiercely obsessive and emotional about Valjean, his Enjolras hits all the emotions JUST RIGHT. The litmus test for a good Enjolras for me is that he needs to have enough charisma on stage to make you want to join the revolution - there have only ever been two in my life that have pulled that off. He does it so effortlessly, it's incredible, just watching him there on stage being Enjolras with every fibre of his being.

But OMG, the orchestra is GLORIOUS! Getting to hear the score played by 24 musicians for once is such a treat! I haven't heard this show sound so well since I saw it in Austria played by the entire orchestra of Linz's opera house. <3 OMG that string section. There were violin lines and oboe parts that I never even consciously heard before, and I've seen this damn show so often.

Also stage door was CRAZY, but my favourite part of it was that despite the huge, screaming crowd no one but me recogized Claude-Michel Schönberg when he came out of the stage door ahahaha. (He then hugged Raymond Walsh so clearly he has good taste. <3)

Audio to follow later today, once I've had time to track it!

#Les Miserables #les mis concert #Alfie Boe #Michael Ball #do I need a theatre tag

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dappercritter · 6 years ago

Note

You have been granted the oppurtunity to recast your favorite animated movie! The only catch is that each of the characters in said movie are animated characters from different shows/movies (X from show/movie is Bob, X from show/movie is Larry, ect.)

Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo boi. You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, my friend!

Once long ago, before the Cringe Ages, I loved recasting my favourite and sometimes least favourite movies with characters from my favourite shows. But then I started taking storytelling more seriously and sentimentally and… art-y, and I started acting as if I was above the stuff somehow. To this day, I still don’t know whether to blame the masses or my own hubris.

But now! Now, the floodgates of my childish, innocent mind are open once more! And I have just the idea: The Nightmare Before Christmas but with Villainous and Batman* characters! (With a few CN villains on the side.) So, I guess you could call it…

The Villainous Nightmare Before Batman!

(No, wait. Uhhhhh…)

The Dark Knight Before Villainous!

Ok, yeah, that should do.

Now you’re probably asking yourself, “Dapper Critter, what are you doing this? Sure, Batman meets Villainous could work, but why are you bringing The Nightmare Before Christmas into this? It’s not even Halloween or Christmas! What are you thinking?!” Well, first of all, Christmas and Halloween aren’t just holidays, they’re states-of-mind. Second, I think it’s time you guys learned something important: I’m a big ol’ lowkey goth baby, baby! If it’s spooky or gothic, I’ll soak it up like a sponge in sink full of soapy water. And nothing says gothic like the hero of a city literally called “Gotham,” a show with a grotesque monster hiding behind the guise of a well-dressed man, and the classic story of Jack Skellington himself! What’s more, all three of these hold a special place in my heart, as they all played a huge part in helping me develop and realize my interest in gothic culture. Lastly, I can see the worlds of these three stories coming together quite easily. Behold, this plot pitch I just made!

“Another Halloween has come and gone in CN City, and another cheerful Christmas is on its way. Black Hat, unofficial master of all that is dark and evil, is thoroughly disgusted that the multiverse will soon be returning to it’s obnoxiously cheerful and wholesome state. He morosely tears a hole through time and space to talk a walk through reality, miserable that he’s stuck living in such a wonderful place. That is until he stumbles upon the city of Gotham, where no matter what time of year it is, the streets are filled with misery and malicious mayhem. Delighted, he sets out to celebrate Christmas his own way: by taking a certain caped-crusader out of the picture and making Gotham his very own holiday vacation home! Little does he know, there’s one special girl who thinks he can celebrate right where he is, as well as a certain clown who’s got his own sinister Christmas party in mind…”

So now that I’ve convinced you, I think it’s time we got down to the actual recasting! Let’s begin, my darling children of the Hot Topic night…

Black Hat as Jack Skellington: This couldn’t have been easier—they’re both creepy gentlemen with excellent taste in fashion. Yes, I know Black Hat is a lot less nice than our dear Pumpkin King, but let’s just say this story takes the odd liberty here and there. Not to mention, Black Hat could easily match Jack’s enthusiasm, intelligence, style, and obsessive inquisitions. Plus, he could totally pull off an evil Santa suit. (Though to be honest, I’m not sure if his snarling, slimy, cockney-accented voice could match Danny Elfman’s melodious singing.)

Demencia as Sally: A devoted, mildly ghoulish, and totally cute fangirl who’s always pining after their darling idol, and who may or may not have been made in a lab? It’s like this fancast is writing itself! Demencia might be a bit more proactive—and scary—in the plot, but I can see her a lot Sally’s dilemma in her as she tries to get Black Hat to notice her and not to abandon them in pursuit of a crazy dream. (Well, that I’m filthy Lizardhat trash.)

Dr. Flug as Dr. Finklestein: Flug, being the only mad scientist who’s employed by Black Hat, as well as the only to survive this, seems like a good pick. Sure, he’s not in a wheelchair and, no, he’s not as creepy as the bugger, but he could still work as our horrid hero’s right-hand man. Plus, since a big part of his canon character is putting up with Demencia’s BS (tell my family that means “baloney-sandwich”), he’d also do great as the one trying to keep the free-spirited love interest under control. Only here, it would be because he’s trying to keep Dem out of trouble so she doesn’t make his boss mad and try to kill him, as opposed to… whatever Finklestein’s problem is. And of course, he can still be menacing if need be. (Just watch the Lost Cases of Townsville and The Tree House…)

5.0.5. as Zero: A cute animal sidekick is a cute animal sidekick, I always say! And 5.0.5. was basically designed to be the ultimate cutesy animal sidekick. Therefore, he can be basically do anything Zero did. Try to cheer up Black Hat? Check. Pull Black Hate’s sleigh? Why couldn’t he? Yeah, he can’t be a flying ghost dog with a glowing nose, but I could just throw bedsheet on him (it was just after Halloween after all) and maybe say he swallowed that anti-gravity device.

Batman as Santa Claus: For Santa Clause, I needed someone who could be the absolute good guy in a world filled with bad guys and weirdos, much like Santa was in the movie. Likewise, since Jack kidnapped Santa to take over Christmas, Black Hat would need to kidnap the guy in charge of Gotham in order to take it for himself. So, of course he’s going to go after it’s #1 protector. I can also see Batman being the voice of reason in this madcap story. Not to mention that he could pull off a Santa suit even better than Black Hat! (In fact…)

The Joker as Oogie Boogie: This one I had some trouble with. I kept asking myself stuff like, “who would be brave enough to usurp Black Hat?,” “who could match Oogie’s siz—er, presence?” or “who would want to kidnap Santa Claus?,” and “Who would be into gambling and crazy funhouse stuff?” And then it came to me: The Joker. I mean, he’s got charisma, a sense of menace, he’s a cutthroat who loves to play with his enemies, and almost always has a big ol’ amusement park deathtrap on hand. Sure, he wouldn’t have the creepy demise like Oogie, but he could get a good beating and traumatizing from Black Hat and/or Demencia (who’d really hate being a damsel in distress, I imagine).

The Delightful Children from Down the Lane as Lock, Shock, and Barrel: At first, I thought of using other Batman villains or Shannon, Darrell, and Ernesto from OK K.O.!, but then I thought it would make more sense to have child villains from a CN show who could do bad things for slime-balls like Black Hat and Joker with pleasure. I instantly thought of these scheming, little monsters from Codename: Kids Next Door (an old favourite of mine). Although they’re usually talk and act in unison, they could have some comical bickering now and then. (After all, “Lenny is an idiot.”) Likewise, I can see Black Hat using Batman’s affinity for young people to get him while his guard’s down. They could make for great trick r’ treaters as well!

Lord Boxman as The Mayor: The mayor wasn’t a very important character, but he was definitely a memorable one, and the first character I thought of who could match his dual personality was Lord Boxman from OK K.O.! They both act like leaders but are really terrible at their jobs, suck up to better villains, and throw a whimpering tantrum like nobody else. (Also, I get to imagine Jim Cummings singing lines from The Nightmare Before Christmas songs, so that’s nice.)

Various CN Villains as The Citizens of Halloween Town: Like with The Mayor and the Trick R’ Treaters, I like to think that the various CN villains who cameoed in the Villainous Orientation series would show up as the denizens of the seedier side of CN City which—as you probably guessed—would be standing in for Halloween Town. Unfortunately, I do not have an encylcopediac knowledge of either Halloween Town residents, nor CN villains, so I’ll just list the ones I can remember and am the most proud of without offering any real justification.

Nohyas as Mr. Hyde: I couldn’t think of anyone besides Black Hat with a fancy hat or smaller versions of himself. Nohyas just so happens to have a suitable villain’s hat, and Handre (his hand puppet) could work in place of tiny clones living under his hats. (And yes, I like Mighty Magiswords. Deal with it.)

Zombozo as Clown with the Tear-Away Face: I don’t believe all creepy clowns look the same, but a ghoulish clown could easily stand in for another. Plus, I used to be a big Ben 10 fan, so I thought I ought to work something in.

Donny as Behemoth: This grass ogre from Adventure Time was more of an outright jerk than Behemoth, but he has a softer side so that would make him a great candidate for a resident gentle giant.

Loony Toons’ Dracula, Billy and Mandy’s Dracula, and Count Spankula as The Vampire Brothers: Do I really need to explain this one?

The Red Guy as Devil: I sure don’t need to elaborate on this one.

The Gangreen Gang as the Zombie Band: The Gangreens were basically based off edgy bands of the late 90’s, and thanks to Gorillaz, we know Ace can play the bass like a boss. Also, I can totally hear Ace saying, “Nice work, bone-daddy.”

Earl (AKA Dopey Black Hat) as Igor: Earl doesn’t get enough to do, inside or outside of Villainous canon.

The Beast as The Hanging Tree: Yeah, I know, I’m messed-up.

HIM as Harlequin Demon: Seriously, this one cast itself!

The Queen of the Black Puddle as Undersea Gal: I don’t watch Courage the Cowardly Dog much, but I remember seeing this villainess once before and I instantly thought she’d be a dead-ringer!

Morbidia and Gateaux as The Witches: Another natural casting derived from my soft spot for Mighty Magiswords. Although Gateaux is a male and a tall one at that, he’s perfect for being a huge suck-up. (I originally considered Miss Endive from Chowder and Duchess from Fosters’ Home for Imaginary Friends, but then I remembered that no matter what they dressed-up as, they’d be unlikeable.)

Monstrous Black Hat as The Monster Under the Bed: Like Earl and the other Black Hat clones, he doesn’t get enough love. (Though this may be a good thing, since he seems too nasty to receive or return it…)

Rob as The Melting Man: There aren’t a lot of CN villains who are melting, per se, but I figured this poor bad guy from Amazing World of Gumball and his unique media-mixed malformity could work.

Biowolf as The Wolfman: Because they’re both well designed wolfmen and I refuse to forget Generator Rex.

The Robins, Batgirl, and Alfred as the Elves: If Batman’s going to be Santa, then his support staff/family might as well be his helpers. Not to mention, they’d look great in cute little elf outfits happily working on Batman’s gadgets in preparation for the big Christmas crime wave.

The Justice League as The Army: Someone needs to show up to shoot-down Black Hat and his idea of Christmas at the end, and since he’s kidnapped Batman, I think it only makes sense that the Justice League would retaliate and come to clean up Black Hat’s mess. He’d also get a reminder that he isn’t just in Gotham City, he’s in the DC universe.

Unikitty as The Easter Bunny: I have my reasons. Them being, Unikitty is good at being sweet and innocent, the episode “Batkitty,” and her world is one of the few Black Hat has interacted with so far. I like to think that’s because he’s too repulsed by her cuteness to touch it. So imagine his reaction when the Delightful Children bring him to her by accident while she’s cosplaying as LEGO Batman or something.

And there you have it! I had a lot of fun making this recast. It was a great way to step out of my comfort zone and to have some fun. Not to mention, I had an excuse to listen to the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack early. I sincerely hope you like it as much as I do, @good-guy-is-alive!

Now I just need to make sure Black Hat himself doesn’t see this, or else he might find me and—

Oh no.

No, please, Mister Black Hat, sir, you don’t understand. I just was doing this for fun. I wasn’t trying to make you look—

OH NO.

NO!

NOOOOOOOOOOjglkajgflkjdshGH;LJF’W abfklghlfuGFARGTADS!!!#%RQ#@!

…

*Since DC changes their Batman shows like people change their socks, we’ll just say that this is your standard DCAU/Bruce Timmverse Batman.

#goodguy #goodguyisalive #critter asks #critter answers #the nightmare before christmas #villainous #batman #dc comics #cartoon network #self-indulgence #recast #fancast

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bmpmp3 · 6 years ago

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hi helo i’m in love with masato and would like him to ruin my life thanks for your time

here’s a mildly threatening masato comin’ to ruin the sengoku era, now with more emphasis on the “pleasant” aspect of his haraguro type character that I’ve kinda been neglecting orz

I’m so sorry with how messy I am with my bad guy type characters, I get like, weirdly defensive? ‘cause I keep subconciously getting scared that when I actually make my villians do something fucked™ people are gonna be mad at me?after some introspection I figured out this is probably ‘cause I’ve been obsessed with making characters and stories since I was like 7, just changed from playing the stories out with toys to playing them out with drawings lolbut yeah like when I was younger I would tell my parents about the stories and whenever I got to the parts where a villian does something bad my parents would be like…mad at me? I dunno, maybe they thought I was endorsing the fact that the villianous eagle plushie killed the unicorn plushie’s parents? even though I was always pretty explicit about the fact that the antagonist…was bad and will get whats coming to them laterbut yeah I think I get weirdly preemptively defensive about how my villians are villians ‘cause of weird habits I gained as a kid orz figuring that out kinda…brought me peace now though? i dunno, feelin’ chill, im pretty sure the rest of the world isn’t like my parents lol i love them but I have no clue what they were on about there, maybe they were shocked their baby could think of a conflict or something like that? i dunno man i remember i used to sanitize my own nightmares when talking to my parents about them for comfort ‘cause I was scared they’d be mad at me ‘cause my dreams were fucked™, i was a weird kid qwq

\anyway yeah feelin pretty good now i accept you antagonist fuckers whole-heartedly now and i’m gonna stop holding back the “nice” kinda….”dere”? side of masato and show off his character properly nO FEAR mwAHAHA

#art #oc #ikesen oc #sketch #ask #i will make him fucked(tm) and i will have no fear #no redemption arc hes too fucked for that #kenshin is a fairly mild yandere and he seems to ....kinda listen? he has a chance #masato? no chance #he wont listen to reason for shit #extreme yandere #cut yer limbs off so you cant run away #nega sasuke my cyborg sasuke au...i feel hes so far gone hed probably only be able to be redeemed a little at most #at like his last moments #i dont think i mentioned this before but i feel as though negasasuke should die by the hands of our mc (probably by accident)#(maybe she was trying to protect her own sasuke)#(probably just wanted to stop him not kill him oof)#and like in his last moments he should start to figure out that like #his dead mc never would have wanted this #she never would have asked for this and in his own grief he failed to consider her feelings #does that make sense? maybe #anyway i just finished an economics exam im gonna go play video games

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chidorifarcloud · 6 years ago

Text

Let’s get Personal?~

Star sign: Aries

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first four songs that pop up:

It has Begun - Starset

Youngblood - 5 Second of Summer

Scars & Bruises - Epic Score (I like a ridiculous amount of instrumentals, I’m surprised I didn’t get more on shuffle XD)

War of Change - Thousand Foot Clutch

Grab the nearest book to you and turn to page 23, what line is 17?

“One pointy ear peeks out from the strands of hair of like a little mushroom, looking strangely fragile.” - Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami.

Ever had a poem written about you?

Not that I am aware of.

When was the last time you played the air guitar?

I don’t think..I have ever? XD

One sound you hate and one you love:

Really high pitched noises. I remember there was this just really high pitched car alarm going off one morning and I couldn’t tell WHO’s car if was. But it went off for like a hour and I thought I was going to climbs the walls.

I love the sound of rain & thunderstorms. Waves is also pretty close #1 for me.

Do you believe in ghosts?

Torn. Maybe? I had a few strange happenings as a kid that couldn’t really be explained. But maybe it was just my child brain being wibbly wobbly or maybe my adult brain likes to dismiss them as such. My mom believes the dead can visit us in our dreams, which is a nice thought. I did recently have a dream about my Dad, which was just us sitting around and talking. Even if it is just my memories my subconscious is putting together - it was still nice. Death was never something I have been super great with >.>;

Do you believe in aliens?

Out of all the many planets, solar systems, ect - I find it a bit hard to believe we are the only form of life. What kind of alignment happened that made US possible? And is it so unlikely for it to happen a second, third, fourth time? I believe there is definitely life out there, at what stages, who knows. Space is so vast and we have only seen a very small bit of it.

Do you drive and if so have you gotten in a crash?

Yes, but if I don’t have to, I rather not. SEVERAL. The worst one was my last. I was heading home from work. I was going up this small slope, only to see headlights right in front of me. I had a very “OH FUCK, my Dad is going to murder me” moment - which is the thought I had whenever I got into an accident. Thankfully, I have good RNG (kiiiidding). Okay, reflexes. For as clumsy as I am, I move fast. I managed to swurve enough for her to take out my passenger side. (which was thankfully, empty)

Oddly enough, I didn’t get that hurt from it, mostly bruising. This woman had made a U-turn, hit 2 other cars (one flipped), crossed the median and hit me - which then her car couldn’t go anymore.

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

No, makes me light headed.

Last movie you’ve seen?

7 in Heaven on Netflix, in theater? .. I think Meg? It has been a hot minute since we have been out to the movies.

Worst injury you’ve ever had?

I have a cut on my arm that required stitches. I guess that is the worst one. The short story to it is I got it trying to protect someone and I dumbly decided to block something with my arm. >.>;

Do you have any obsessions right now?

Mmm..not really. I have a very “gotta catch them all” personality trait. Which does cause me to get obsessed with something and decide I need EVERYTHING from that. Which as you can imagine is insane. The last thing was high end make-up/skincare. Which recently I have been going thru because I have a ridiculous amount of it..I think I threw out about $1000 in product with pass one. My goal is trying to get rid of things I don’t need and live a little bit more minimalist. Not to like..a crazy point, but substantially lower my amount of stuff.

Patches still can make me mildly obsessive if there is a new glam or something I want. Currently tho? I am good with everything there.

Do you hold grudges?

It varies, but it is rare. I am pretty empathic so I tend to forgive pretty easy. Too easy at times. Sometimes I have to think hard if a person really does deserve another chance or if I should distance myself. Because my first instinct is to forgive.

In a relationship?

Yes! I don’t think it is any secret that @roger-holmes is my SO IRL. We actually met in game years ago, became friends and things just grew from there. With first main character I actually didn’t want to ship with him, since I feared that this could fizzle out. BUT..4 years and still going.

Tagged by: @ichigozen

Open tag if you wanne do it, feel free to tag me in it!

#ooc #munday

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 7 years ago

Text

Bloodlines - Part 5

A/N: Based off of the song “Heathens” by Twenty One Pilots, this will be a multichapter fic with either a lyric being a chapter title, or the headers to break down the thought process of the chapter. None of the lyrics are mine, and they are all in bold - Again, I do not claim to own them, all credit where credit is due.

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Word Count: 1,452 (Not including lyrics.)

Warnings: None that I know of. Mild language?

Beautiful people who helped me when I came to them with this crazy idea and said to run with it: @wheresthekillswitch @obsessed-withthe-hales @aworldmadeforme @life-what-life-i-dont-have-one @xteenwolfwritingsx

Coming back to Beacon Hills was supposed to be uneventful. Yet somehow, you are now stuck in the middle of two worlds you didn’t even know existed yesterday. Now between both worlds, but not belonging to either, you try to forge your own way, finding out that some ties are stronger than bloodlines.

Series Masterlist

Xxx

All my friends are heathens. Take it slow

You eyed Derek from the passenger seat as he reached a cruising speed after six or seven sickeningly tight and fast turns.

Glancing your way out of the corner of his eye briefly before turning back to the road, his face remained neutral. “What?”

“When I touched the Nemeton…. Something happened.” You looked forward out of the windshield, gripping the handle to the point of white knuckles, but not for fear of the swerving car anymore. Out of fear for what you felt since that night. Like something was pawing, pacing around in your brain, trying to get out, trying to…. Howl for lack of a better word. Simply trying to be free. You were going crazy, constantly on edge from whatever was in your head.

“Do I get a little more to go on besides that?” Derek asked after a moment, eyeing your tight grip on the handle before letting his eyes flit back to yours, then back to the road.

“I just…” Looking out the passenger window, wringing your death grip on the handle like maybe you could squeeze some sanity out of it. “I feel like something…. Woke up, for lack of a better word. And now it’s like there are two of me in my head. Not voices, but two sets of…. Instincts, I guess? I don’t know.”

Derek sighed what sounded like a knowing sound, heavy and tired. “Stiles was right, you shouldn’t have come back-”

“Oh, my God!” You groaned, tossing your head back against the headrest. “Look, I’m here now, so deal with it, Derek.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“You love me, you know that, so hush, my werewolf friend.”

Derek grumbled an annoyed agreeance, making you smile before he sighed again. “Anything else happen at that God forsaken stump?”

You waited a moment, biting your lip as you debated whether to tell him. “I remember what happened before I left, Derek.”

“What do you mean?” He turned a corner sharply, pulling up to the loft before sliding the gear into park, letting the engine idle as he turned to you.

“We were best friends. When you started getting cozy with Kate, your mom must have sensed something coming, because, she took most of my memories pertaining to you and your family. I don’t know if she felt I was a danger to your family, or if I was a danger to mine, but either way, I always knew about werewolves, and I have a feeling it started before I knew the Hale family secret.” You looked down to your lap for a second before looking back up to meet his hard stare. “That’s why I ran out of the loft like that. She must have created some failsafe for times like this, knowing I would need to remember someday. All these memories were playing in my mind, and they wouldn’t stop until I got by that stump, which I swear was a whole tree when I sat down there.”

Derek was about to respond when Scott pulled up on his bike beside his car, stopping and ripping off his helmet. “How in the hell did you beat me?!”

“To my own house? Gee, I wonder, Scott….” Derek was smiling as he cut the engine, removing the keys and got out of the car. Looking at you, his eyes said you would finish this discussion later, and you nodded almost imperceptibly.

Wait for them to ask you who you know

To say you paid very little attention to the pack meeting was an understatement.

Flashbacks to your years before, spending time with the Hale family filled your mind.

And the oddest part of all, was you saw not only yourself there, but your entire family as well.

Please don’t make any sudden moves

The ride started out silently, Derek driving you home after the meeting seeming like a nice gesture instead of the promised continuation of conversation from earlier.

Leaning your head against the cold glass of the passenger window, about to close your eyes, Derek let out a heavy sigh, something he had done a lot since you came back to town, you noted with a small smile.

“I remember all that, too,” was how he broke the silence. “It’s almost like my remembering is somehow tied to you, because I am remembering things out of nowhere, waking up in the middle of the night only to find the flashbacks continue once I’m awake, that they aren’t just a dream.” He rubbed the back of his neck, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “And I’m just as confused as you are.” Rain started to patter on the windshield softly, and Derek let his hand fall from his neck down to flick on the wipers before taking the wheel in both hands again.

You studied him unabashedly while he stared down the road before him, the street lights passing overhead illuminating his face in bursts, showing off the glare of canine eyes until the light retreated, leaving him in shadows that highlighted his humanity until the next one came.

Lost in your thoughts, he startled you when he turned to face you, your gaze darting ahead to find your house. “I never gave you my address.”

He laughed shyly. “Told you I was remembering things, too.”

At first it had been weird moving back into your old house after all those years, but now it seemed like more than just coincidence.

“Thanks. We’ll talk more tomorrow?”

He nodded, and after taking a deep breath, you flung the car door open, closing it quickly and dashing to the house, turning to wave goodbye to Derek before going inside, laughing at your rain soaked state. You could have sworn you heard him laugh, as well.

“Y/N, is that you?” You heard your mom’s voice say from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you called back, wringing out your soaked shirt without thought, your dad’s footsteps coming down the stairs quickly with a towel in hand, tossing it to you. It was like he always had a sixth sense about these things. “Think fast!” he said and you looked up just in time to have the towel land on your face. “I swear, you got your mother’s reflexes,” he mumbled through a chuckle, his voice getting closer until suddenly the towel was scrubbing your head dry before landing on the floor to catch your puddle of drips.

“I resent that comment,” your mother said, laughing, appearing from the kitchen.

Before anymore words could be exchanged, there was a knock on the front door. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and it seemed like all other sound faded. Checking through the curtain covering the small window to the side of the door, you saw a now soaked Derek standing at the door waiting, book in hand, and a bemused smile on his face as he studied the grain of the wood planks at his feet.

Opening the door without explanation to your parents, you smiled up at Derek, and he smiled back down at you. “You forgot this,” he said, offering the book.

“Oh! Duh,” taking it with one hand, you plastered your other palm to your forehead. “Thanks.” You had promised to do some research on the string of events that had led to the pack meeting that night. “Mom, dad, you remember-”

“Derek Hale,” your father bit out, coming to stand between you and Derek, gently pushing you further back so you were completely inside. Your mother appeared in front of you, arms crossed as she stared Derek down as well.

Narrowing his eyebrows at you in question, you shrugged, rolling your eyes and rubbing the back of your neck.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” you promised once again, glancing at your parents warily.

“Tomorrow,” Derek agreed with a small nod, before backing up slowly, smiling kindly at your parents before glancing your way once again.

“We’ll see,” you dad said, causing you and Derek to both stop and stare at him for a moment before the front door closed and shut off any further communication.

You don’t know the half of the abuse

“Why wouldn’t I see him, dad?” You wasted no time in jumping into the obvious hole in the conversation that was your parents’ views on Derek Hale.

“Do you know what he is, Y/N?”

To say your father’s question caught you off guard was putting it mildly. “Do you?” You shot back, crossing your arms, and staring him in the eyes, challenging him.

A silence settled in the room, heavy and stifling, broken only by occasional thunder and lightning as the storm raged outside.

Daring to step a little further, you ventured down the train of thought you had pushed aside for too long. “Do you even know what we are?”

Xxx

Tags: @palaiasaurus64 @ohphillip @sammyrenae68 @abbytheninja @storytelling-reader @evyiione, @mayahart02, @impala-moose What’s this?

#derek hale x reader #derek hale imagine #scott mccall x reader #scott mccal imagine #pack x reader #pack imagine #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #bloodlines #my mind spins stories #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf reader insert #teen wolf fluff #fluff #tw fluff

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qqueenofhades · 8 years ago

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the trash saga of flynn and lucy: xi

y’all think i’m joking about literally never doing anything else in my free time now than writing about these idiots. i am not joking and i also need help. so after a few chapters of once upon a dream, have some more of the one the only the trash saga of flynn and lucy. ao3 here.

There is a long and horrible silence. Then Lucy says, “What? Carol? Carol Preston? As in, my mom Carol?”

“I have no idea.” Wyatt blows out a breath, looking hounded. “I mean, considering we still don’t know what happened in the present, it could just be some kind of weird coincidence. Why would your mom be here, and in charge of the Rittenhouse meeting? It would mean – ”

He stops. It occurs to him that he might not want to spell out exactly what this means, with Lucy looking stricken and Flynn looking murderous (so, Wyatt thinks, how Flynn usually looks). Still, though, the question cannot be ignored, especially given that Rittenhouse has a time machine that would theoretically allow them to bring anyone they damn well pleased to their evil pow-wow. Wyatt wants to say that it’s possible he misheard, just to spare Lucy’s feelings, but he knows he didn’t. Jesus, is this why Lucy doesn’t exist in the future, why her mom’s side of the family seemed to have mysteriously vanished? Because Emma dropped in with the Mothership, picked Carol up as a young woman before she had Lucy, and then took her – wherever? That can’t be all of it, though, since they discovered that Lucy had been erased in the present before Rittenhouse got the Mothership. Unless it doesn’t matter, because it still would have already happened by 2017, hence it would affect her anyway? Either way, Carol’s apparent presence here is significant, but there’s no way to know if it’s the only factor in Lucy’s corresponding absence there. Fuck. Wyatt hates these sort of mind-bending time-travel problems with an almighty passion. Why isn’t Rufus here?

Right. Because he too is back in 2017, and because Wyatt hasn’t been able to get the goddamn Lifeboat back online, or make contact with him, or send any kind of emergency signal through time at all. So all of this might just be an academic problem anyway.

“My mother isn’t Rittenhouse,” Lucy says at last. “That was my biological father. Cahill – Benjamin Cahill. So the timeline really has gotten out of whack if it’s ended up thinking that she’s supposed to be here. This is a mistake.” She looks appealingly at Wyatt and Flynn, clearly asking them to support her, tell her that she’s right. Begging, almost. “It’s another of the warped side effects we have to sort out. She wouldn’t be here voluntarily.”

“I’m sure it is, Lucy,” Wyatt says gently. “We’ll fix it.”

“Or it’s not a mistake,” Flynn puts in, less gently. “How do you accidentally become an important member of Rittenhouse, even in an alternate timeline?”

Lucy flinches, and Wyatt glares at him. “I don’t know, aren’t you the expert on that?”

“This time, for once, it’s not my fault.” Flynn tips his head at Lucy. “She has quite some story to tell you about John Rittenhouse and everything that’s happened since we went back to the present. Besides, if anyone, we’re getting my daughter back first, as we know she isn’t with them by choice. If Carol Preston is – ”

Lucy’s cheeks are hot. “My mother,” she says vehemently, “is not in Rittenhouse! She doesn’t know anything about this! This is an accident!”

Flynn remains unyielding, arms crossed. “We don’t know that.”

Lucy’s look at him is angry and hurt and guilty all at once. “Are you punishing me?” she asks quietly. “For letting them get Iris? Is that what this is, Flynn?”

Wyatt looks at the ceiling and suddenly wishes very hard that he wasn’t here.

“Believe me, Lucy.” Flynn’s mouth twists in a sardonic smile. “If we don’t get Iris back, your mother will be the least of our worries. But right now, no. I don’t necessarily agree that this is some unforeseen consequence or accidental outcome. If your mother’s here, she’s meant to be.”

Lucy’s cheeks go from red to white. “So you are punishing me.”

“Or your mother’s in Rittenhouse.” Flynn shrugs. “One of the two.”

Lucy looks as if she’s going to smack him, which Wyatt certainly isn’t going to break his back trying to stop. Instead she clenches her fist and whirls on him instead. “Look, I know my mother didn’t tell me who my dad was, but. . . Henry Wallace raised me as his own anyway, we were a family, I can understand why she might want to keep the whole fling with Benjamin Cahill under the table. But if she’s – ” It’s clear that the full and horrible implications of what this might mean are starting to form in Lucy’s head, despite her best efforts to ward it off, and she would give anything for it not to. “If she is, then. . . she would have been lying to me. My whole life. About everything. Would have known all along what I’ve been doing and what I’ve been up against. Does she – has she remembered Amy this whole time? Has she – has she known she was missing, but didn’t care? Because in this timeline she’s healthy, she has her own life back, even if her daughter is missing? How could she – how could. How could she be so. So selfish.”

Lucy almost hisses the last word, bristling like an angry cat, eyes burning feverishly bright. Wyatt reaches out to touch her, but she snatches her arm away, wrapping into herself, and she certainly isn’t about to look to Flynn for comfort, as he is sitting there with an expression half mildly pained, half arrogant I-told-you-so. It’s clear that he doesn’t like seeing her suffer, but he’s also not going to stop or try to shield her in any way from the realization, such as Wyatt’s first impulse is. His bedside manner is, to say the least, completely abysmal. And the guy was supposedly married once. How the hell did that even work?

The silence is hideous and eternal. Lucy presses a hand to her mouth, turning away as if she is about to be sick. Wyatt and Flynn exchange half a look, until Wyatt steps after her and puts a hand on her elbow. At that, Lucy cracks, whirling around and throwing herself into his arms. She holds onto him tightly as Wyatt rests his chin on her hair, exquisitely conscious of Flynn’s dark gaze boring through both of them and unable to repress his usual exasperation with the stupid ass: if Flynn could get over his damn Rittenhouse neurosis for once, and his impulse toward vengeance on Lucy for Iris, Wyatt wouldn’t need to be the one doing this. He’s seen flashes of the other man’s complexity and vulnerability, even more than he wants to at times, but he still has been unable to rid himself of the conviction that Garcia Flynn’s appearance, character, and general outlook on life would be vastly improved by the vigorous application of a brick to the head, repeatedly.

After a moment, Lucy gets hold of herself, biting her lip and pulling away. She looks up into Wyatt’s face, but doesn’t ask about the Lifeboat; she seems to sense that if the news on that front was good, he would have told them by now. She sniffs hard and squares her shoulders. This is the Lucy capable of putting aside personal trial and loss, even crushing ones, in the face of the larger goal – and one which, Wyatt thinks, he and Flynn have both consistently failed at, with their obsession with returning their dead wives to life. Lucy has lost her sister, and she wants her back more than anything, but she’s never taken a moment to be selfish about it, to forget what’s at stake. It’s not surprising that she’s stronger than either of them, and again without meaning to, Wyatt and Flynn exchange half a shamefaced look. Then Lucy says, “You – Wyatt, can you sew him up, please? I did what I could for the wounds, but they still need to be properly closed.”

Wyatt, for once, does as asked without any (or at least many) judgmental glances in Flynn’s direction. He goes downstairs to wash his hands, threads the needle, and pulls the chair up, as Flynn presents his shoulder with an only slightly evil look. Lucy excuses herself, apparently wanting a moment alone to gather her thoughts, and Wyatt works steadily. It’s no different from patching up any other comrade in the line of duty – comforting, almost. He barely even remembers to jab Flynn too hard with the needle. The man does know how to take a punch – or a shot, rather. Like any other soldier, this is far from the first time.

Wyatt can sense Flynn watching him as he stitches, though neither of them seem to want to be the first one to break the silence. Then Flynn says abruptly, “I fucked it up, didn’t I? Earlier.”

“Yeah.” Wyatt could be a lot more blunt about this, but for once, he chooses not to be. “Yeah, I’d say you did.”

Flynn grimaces, with that usual bitter half-smirk he wears, staring off into the distance. “But if her mother is Rittenhouse – ”

“Look. I know this is hard for you to get, but not everything is about Rittenhouse and who is or not in it, all right? Lucy’s already reeling from her biological father turning out to be their creep-in-chief, or whatever he is. Her sister’s missing. She doesn’t exist in the present and we still can’t be sure why. She feels completely terrible about losing your daughter – who no one ever asked her to care for, by the way. She took that on herself. We have no real idea how to boot up the Lifeboat or get home. And now her mother might be Rittenhouse too, everything in her life is a lie, and the person who should have loved and protected her the most is possibly the biggest culprit? Anyone any less strong than Lucy would be a gibbering wreck on the floor. I don’t pretend to understand what it is with you two. You can probably guess how I feel. But if you actually care for her at all, and not just for whatever you think you’re getting from her, then yeah. Fucked up is one word for what you did back there.” Wyatt draws the thread straight, loops one more stitch through the bruised flesh, and knots it off. “If you can stand hearing it from me.”

Flynn grimaces again. “You’re not wrong, cowboy.” He pauses. “Wyatt.”

“Thanks, terrorist. I mean, Flynn.” Wyatt cuts off the thread, gets another, dips the needle in the medicine solution, and starts in on his side wound. “It looks as if you opened these again after the bleeding stopped the first time. What were you doing?”

Flynn raises an eyebrow. “You want to know?”

“No, on second thought, I don’t.” Wyatt concentrates rather harder than he needs to on drawing the tattered edges of flesh together. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” There is, obnoxiously, a faint edge of self-satisfaction in Flynn’s voice, until Wyatt has to remind himself that it would be counterproductive to punch him just now, when they’re finally getting along. If you squint, at least. “You sure you don’t want to – ”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Wyatt gives Flynn a look to remind him that he is holding a sharp and pointy bit of metal and is happy to prove it. He finishes the stitches, does up clean bandages for each wound, and sits back. “Try not to get yourself shot again, and any plunges into, I don’t know, an open sewer should definitely be avoided. But yeah, you’ll live.”

“Try not to sound so disappointed.” Flynn sits back and looks around the room in search of anything alcoholic that is not the medicine. “I could really use a stiff drink.”

“I could use something too,” Wyatt admits. “I’ll go downstairs and look.”

This he does, managing to purchase three whiskeys from the bartender; the city is still in a good mood from the inauguration, the booze is flowing freely, and he carries them back up the stairs. When he steps back into the room, Lucy has returned, with her eyes only slightly red. She takes the whiskey from him with a murmured thanks, as Wyatt hands one over to Flynn and keeps the last for himself. They raise the glasses in a silent, ironic toast, then drink.

Wyatt’s eyes water as the full impact hits like a fireball; ye olde nineteenth-century moonshine is not pulling its punches, and he is not a novice at this kind of thing either. Flynn, damn him, manages to keep a straight face, though Lucy coughs. When they have all fought down the jet fuel successfully, Wyatt wipes his mouth and manages, “I think Flynn had something to say to you, Lucy.”

Flynn looks startled. He clearly had no idea that he had anything whatsoever to say.

Wyatt clears his throat, and not just from the drink. “Yeah, Flynn. Didn’t you?”

At that, belatedly, the dense motherfucker cottons on. Finally. “Actually. He’s. . . right. I’m. . .” It clearly takes a lot, as this man has rarely condescended to humiliate himself or step down or admit error or uncertainty in his life. “For earlier. What I said about your mother, and all that. I’m sorry, Lucy. I. . . could have gone about it better.”

Wyatt clears his throat again.

“A lot,” Flynn says. “A lot better.”

Lucy bites her lip, looking down at her mostly empty glass. “All right,” she says quietly. “Thank you for saying that. I suppose we do have to find out what the truth is, either way.” She looks at Wyatt. “What you said, about the Rittenhouse meeting. Is it happening tonight?”

“No. Tomorrow. First day of Jackson’s administration. I guess they get together for their douche tea party and start plotting out their evil plots and scheming their evil schemes.” Wyatt throws back the rest of his drink, managing not to flinch this time. “If he’s the one responsible for the Trail of Tears, I’m sure they have plenty more equally wonderful things they want him to sign off on.”

“Yes,” Flynn says coolly. “Because he’s Rittenhouse. Quincy Adams wasn’t. They’re very much looking forward to controlling the top dog again.”

“There’s no way Trump isn’t,” Wyatt says. “Can’t we erase him and do everyone a favor?”

For a moment, he thinks Flynn might actually laugh, but heaven forbid the Slavic Terminator (Eastern European Eliminator?) do that. Instead he just snorts, likewise polishing off the rest of his drink. “Where’s this meeting happening?”

Wyatt narrows his eyes at him. “If I tell you, what are you planning to do?”

Flynn shrugs. This is apparently blindingly self-explanatory. “Kill them?”

“You can’t barge in and kill the entire cabinet of the United States and Andrew Jackson and – ” Wyatt groans. “Yeah. Forgot who I was talking to.”

“My mother is in there.” Lucy looks up, lips white. “You have to let me talk to her. You have to let me find out what’s going on. If it is an accident, we can get her out, take her home with us. If we do, I should return to existence automatically, since she’ll once more exist when she was supposed to in the timeline. If it’s not. . .” She trails off, plainly not wanting to finish that thought. “Never mind.”

Flynn eyes her. It’s clear even to him that he would lose whatever modicum of good standing he has recently regained, if he then immediately suggested killing her mother. It’s less clear, however, that he isn’t at least considering it. Wyatt doesn’t think Flynn will go through with it, even if Carol Preston does prove to be Rittenhouse – but he can’t be sure. If Lucy’s mother has been lying and controlling and misleading her this whole time, Wyatt himself doesn’t know what he’d do, if he had Carol at his mercy, for hurting her so badly. But if he does try to make her pay the ultimate price for her treachery and deception, Lucy will never exist at all, anywhere. Might just blow out like a candle altogether. Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face.

“We’ll think about it in the morning,” Wyatt says at last, wearily. “I’ve got a feeling the day starts pretty early around here. And we’ve all had, to say the least, the hell of one already.”

This is more or less agreed to, though he’s not sure Flynn isn’t going to try to slip out at the crack of dawn, to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. But everyone is starting to fade badly, yawning and exhausted. There is a davenport and a bed in the room, and without anyone saying so aloud, it quickly becomes clear to Wyatt that he is sleeping on the former, and Lucy and Flynn are sleeping together in the latter. He does his best to swallow his pride and accept this circumstance, seeing as he just opened his fat mouth and encouraged them to reconcile, but it still stings as he watches Lucy hold up her hair for Flynn to unlace her corset. It’s an oddly tender and domestic sort of thing, Flynn’s face intent and almost gentle as he undoes the laces, and for a moment, Wyatt gets how it worked, when he was married. As if Flynn might innately be a stubborn, arrogant jackass, but not evil. Not cruel. That, the mercilessness, the rage, the murder, while it might all be present, isn’t how he prefers to live, or something he enjoys. Just that he’s stoked it so far that it’s the only thing left to burn.

Wyatt rolls himself up in a blanket and makes himself as comfortable as he can on the narrow, creaky davenport. Supposes that if they can’t make contact with Rufus or get the Lifeboat back online, he’s going to have a lot more nights like these. Thinks he’ll stay awake, that it might get too long or too hard to bear, but instead, the instant he closes his weary eyes, he’s gone.

------------------

Lucy doesn’t sleep.

She lies awake on the sagging but comfortable mattress, the quilts pulled up around her shoulders, Flynn’s large frame engulfing her smaller one, and can’t compartmentalize enough to turn off her brain. It’s always a difficulty, as she’s the kind of person who tends to lie awake reviewing the work she’s done, the work she needs to do, her current worries, and everything she did wrong ten years ago, but this is worse. How do you just – turn this off and go off to dreamland? She’s still convinced that it’s a mistake or a timeline twist or some inadvertent or horrible attempt by Rittenhouse to blackmail her. Her mom – her mom. The pioneering history and women’s studies professor at Stanford, the person Lucy always wanted to be the most like. The day she heard the words “terminal lung cancer” was among the worst of her life. Her shock and euphoria on walking back in after the Hindenburg and seeing Carol alive and well, before the horrible realization about Amy set in. She – this – it can’t. It can’t all be a lie. This is an accident. Her mother doesn’t remember Amy. That is the only thing Lucy can handle believing. Otherwise, it is horrible beyond all and any imagination.

Her shoulders shake, despite herself. She’s been strong, all this time. And yet all she gets are these few hours in the darkness, before she has to get up tomorrow, find her mother in God damn fucking 1829, see if Carol even remembers her, or if she’s going to have to face the reality Flynn suggested so untactfully: that her mother is Rittenhouse. If so –

Lucy doesn’t know. Doesn’t know how to even remotely deal with the situation. Her body crunches with a spasm. She chokes back a sob, stuffing her fist into her mouth, so as not to wake Wyatt and Flynn. A voice in her head remarks wryly that now of all times she should get to be selfish, but she’s still so naturally unable to do it. The only thing stopping her from coming completely unglued is that she’s not sure even she can drag herself together again if she does.

It’s then that Flynn shifts against her back. She thinks he’s just changing position in his sleep, but his arm comes down to rest on her hip, and his hand settles lightly on her stomach. It’s not until his fingers start tracing patterns against her skin, his mouth moving to brush a faint kiss against her neck, that she realizes he’s awake, and has been listening to her. Inadvertently she presses back against him, wanting his weight and warmth and size and solidness to shield her, to keep some of the world out. Maybe this is an elaboration on the apology from earlier, as if he knows he still has more making up to do, and has chosen this as the best avenue to do so. His fingers continue to circle on her stomach, until Lucy moves her hand and presses it over his, hitching herself up against him, as his breath catches. Yes, he’s definitely awake.

She takes his hand and guides it slowly lower, as it dips beneath the edge of the insubstantial shift she’s wearing as nightclothes. His callused fingers rough over the soft skin of her inner thigh, and she shivers involuntarily, as he nips at her earlobe and pulls it between his teeth, hot mouth brushing at the underside of her jaw. Their eyes – hers, at least, she can’t see his face – remain closed, half dreaming. His hand skims up the top of her leg and then, as she moves it again, between them.

Lucy bites a gasp as Flynn’s fingers brush across her mound, then split her deliberately, sliding through her silky-wet folds. She presses his hand against her, thrusting, as he moves his other arm to wrap around her, holding her still. His fingers are deliberate and unhurried about their work, playing her clit first, then stroking lower, almost inside her but not quite. She shivers with delicious frisson, bucking back against him with a soft murmur, as he kisses the side of her mouth. Whispers something she doesn’t quite understand, but she gets the meaning. Shh.

She relaxes then, somewhat, as he continues to touch and stroke her, softening and sweetening her, until at last he enters her with a finger, sliding up to the fork of his hand. Once she’s taken that, he adds a second, thumb attending her clit again, working her deep and slow. Her legs sprawl with a rush of weak-kneed heat as she grinds herself back against his hardness; his shirt isn’t exactly comprehensive in the pajamas department either. He continues to explore her as deeply as he can, as she whimpers, pulling at him, hungry for his mouth. Even he is not quite enough of an ass to deny her, and she gets hold of his ear, shifting him around. They kiss deep and slow, wet and soft, mouths open, tongues almost tentative.

At last, he settles back behind her, and finishes his work with a few quick, thorough motions that have her twisting and gasping and clutching the sheet as she comes, seeing stars. He withdraws his slick fingers, hand still low on her belly, as she is seriously tempted to roll over, grab hold of him, and take him down, wants to feel all of him inside her. But he already broke his wounds open once today, and with the release of orgasm spreading in a dreamy soft heat through her body, she can feel sleep coming on, somehow. Wants it. Needs it, desperately.

And so, Lucy Preston settles against Garcia Flynn, and finally lets go.

------------------

They wake, as promised, early. The sun isn’t quite up as they’re getting dressed, Flynn stiff and uncomfortable now that the pain has had a whole night to set in (apparently even he is not as impervious as he likes to pretend, just mostly) and Lucy has to help him into his jacket. He takes back his gun, with a deliberate look at Wyatt, and there is really no point asking what he intends to do with it. She just hopes she can intervene before it turns totally catastrophic.

They set out as the sun is coming up. It takes Lucy a lot of talking, but she finally gets Flynn to promise that she can go in first and try to find her mother, before he blasts in great gangbusters and blows the whole thing sky-high, literally. The Rittenhouse meeting appears to be taking place in a handsome red-brick mansion near the White House, and carriages and carts are already wheeling through the muddy streets, splashing them, as the city wakes to go about its business. When they get in sight of the place, Lucy turns to Wyatt and Flynn. “You two stay here. You’re just, well. You’re conspicuous. There’s no way Rittenhouse won’t notice you.”

Flynn scowls. “And they won’t notice you?”

“John Rittenhouse is still hoping I’ll decide to marry him, remember? If I turn up wanting to attend the big get-together, he’d probably be thrilled.”

“And you aren’t going to marry him. Or so I assume.”

Lucy gives him a cold Really? look.

Flynn shrugs. It’s clear he doesn’t like this plan, nor does Wyatt, but it is also clearly the only way Lucy will get close enough to determine her mother’s status without sending up the entire hue and cry. “Shout,” Wyatt orders her. “Or break a window, or something, if you need us. Promise.”

Lucy smiles a little, despite herself, at the fact that even Wyatt is now able to refer to himself and Flynn as us, that there is some kind of trust, ever so slightly, between this new threesome. It doesn’t make up for losing Rufus, and they still need to figure the whole phone-call-to-the-future thing out ASAP, but for now, she’s glad they have her back. She smiles at them. “Promise.”

With that, leaving the men looking extremely on-edge and clearly counting the minutes until her return, Lucy walks the last block by herself, turns the corner, and sees the carriages converging before the mansion, as the Rittenhouse grandees debark in morning coats and top hats, walking sticks and pinstriped trousers. She hesitates, then pins a smile on her face, picks her skirt out of the city slush, and makes her way toward them, trying to look as if she belongs. After all, she did run away from John and Emma yesterday, and try to stop Emma from stealing the Mothership. If that word has gotten around, there might be some suspicion of her loyalties.

No one, however, appears to feel that it is his place to question John Rittenhouse’s handpicked bride (and you know, Lucy thinks, that’s not creepy at all). Indeed, she is bowed into the mansion by a white-gloved butler, offered a drink from a tray, and –

Jesus Christ.

Lucy jerks, almost spilling the glass down her dress, as she looks across the way and sees – indeed – her mother, gowned in regal burgundy chiffon with mutton sleeves, hair upswept, black velvet choker around her neck, the very picture of a perfect Regency madame. Their eyes lock, and Carol Preston stares at her daughter, completely stunned. Then she sweeps forward, brushes off a servant, takes hold of Lucy’s arm, and pulls her off into the parlor, shutting the door behind them. “Lucy? Lucy!”

“Mom?” Lucy is still too stunned to fully process it. Even with Wyatt’s warning to at least remotely prepare her, seeing it – seeing her mother here, in another time, here with Rittenhouse – whatever grasp she thought she had on the situation, she doesn’t. “What’s – what’s going on?” she stammers, sounding like a little girl. “How are you – how can you be here?”

“How are you?” Carol takes her by the shoulders and looks her up and down. “After what happened in Maryland, I was worried!”

“After what happened in Maryland. . .?” Lucy wants to be glad to see her, wants this to go away and be an accident, but she feels as if she missed a step going downstairs. “Mom. . . we’re in 1829. In 1829. President Andrew Jackson was inaugurated yesterday. Are we really just going to act like we met for coffee in that place we liked in Menlo Park?”

“Are we?” Carol arches a blonde eyebrow. “Honestly, honey, I think this is easier. I thought I might have to explain it all, but – ” she waves a hand. “I can see I don’t have to. You know.”

“I know?” Lucy has never felt as if she knows anything less in her life. “I’ve been erased! The present – I’m not there, I don’t know what – and you’re here, you’re with them!”

“Don’t worry,” Carol says soothingly. “Lucy, it’s going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right. You’re here. You’ve finally come of your own free will, you’ve come to see and hear and listen, and I am so proud of you. Look at you. Look how beautiful you are. It’s almost done, everything we’ve fought for. You were the one who gave us what we needed.”

“Gave us.” Forget missing a step. Lucy feels as if she has plunged through rotted ice on a mountain lake, falling and falling in the dark water, drowning. “Mom, you’re. . . you’re. . . you are. You’re Rittenhouse.”

“Of course I am.” Carol leans in and kisses her forehead. Lucy should feel comforted, reassuring, safe in the bosom of maternal warmth. She feels branded, marked, by something dark and evil. “And I’m more than that. The Prestons have always been all but second in rank to the Rittenhouses themselves. You’re practically royalty, you know. A pure-blood daughter of two of the inner-circle families. And now you’ve finally realized your destiny.”

“No.” Lucy doesn’t even know if she says it aloud or not. Her lips, her mouth, her lungs, her entire body has frozen. “Mom, no. Tell me this is a mistake. Tell me.”

“It’s not. This is the truth.” Her mother gestures at the parlor. “And just the start. Come with us, Lucy. There’s so much more for you here, your talents. And besides, it’s time to see your little friend again. You miss her, don’t you?”

“Fr. . .” Lucy shakes her head like a stunned ox. “Friend?”

Carol Preston crosses the parlor and opens the door to let in a tall, graceful, dark-haired young woman. She looks oddly and horribly familiar, in a way Lucy can’t place. She’s wearing a striped faille gown with lacy sleeves, a pinned broad-brimmed hat, a fresh and lovely demoiselle of about twenty-three. She gives Lucy a demure smile. “So then. It’s true.”

Lucy goggles at her. Opens her mouth to ask. And then, horribly, it hits.

She left 1814 – fifteen years ago – a few days ago. Now it’s 1829.

Iris Flynn has grown up from the age of eight in their “care,” since the day Lucy lost her at John’s mansion. The perfect hostage, the perfect mark, to shape and train and blackmail, for the ultimate and inevitable mission, the sweetest and most diabolical revenge imaginable, for the man who has tried so hard to take them down.

Iris Flynn is Rittenhouse.

Iris Flynn is here to kill her father.

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #the trash saga of flynn and lucy #woo more #(help)#(really help)#timeless ff

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twentysomethinginorlando · 7 years ago

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Thoughts on the D23 Expo Announcements

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Thoughts on the D23 Expo Announcements

Quite frankly, if you’re reading this blog, there’s a 99% probability you already know about the announcements that came out of the D23 Expo this past weekend. If somehow you’re unaware, D23 is the “official Disney fan club”. Every summer they do a big convention in Anaheim where Disney makes their major announcements for the year. I’d love to go one day, but except for the first year I signed up, I haven’t even been able to keep my D23 membership going. There just aren’t enough events on the East Coast, and I live at Disney World! Even though I’m a couple days behind, I want to talk about how excited I am for almost all of the announcements.

Magic Kingdom

Tron Indoor Roller Coaster: I’ve never actually seen the original Tron, only the sequel. However, I love everything about the look of Tron and the futuristic sleekness. I’m jealous of practically everything at Disneyland Shanghai, but particularly the Tron coaster. A friend of mine actually snagged me the Tron Duffy outfit on his last visit over there! I am super excited they’re bringing it to my home park. I am a little surprised we’re keeping the Speedway, and I am extremely curious how they’re going to fit it into Tomorrowland.

Main Street Theater: I am incredibly excited for a venue in Magic Kingdom that can do full length, indoor productions. I am mildly terrified because the concept art looks like the location of Town Square Theater. As long as Mickey still has a meeting location at Magic Kingdom, I’m okay. I love Magician Mickey!

We Wants the Red Head-The Pirate Makeover: Technically this was announced before D23, but I am still over the moon that Disney is realizing times are changing, and the parks should too. Little girls can be pirates too! Also, the selling of women into sexual slavery really has no place in any Disney Park.

Disney’s Hollywood Studios

Mickey and Minnie’s Runaway Railway: Mickey Mouse is finally getting his own ride and it’s replacing The Great Movie Ride, or as I like to call it, “The Great Movies We Have the Rights to Ride”. I have several friends who will hate me for this, but I have never been a huge fan of GMR. (Former cast member, I speak in acronyms.) For someone who loves movie making, I’ve never been a huge fan of “classic movies”. I had to sit through way too many of them in college. I am perfectly happy for it to make way for my favorite Mouse, who certainly deserves his own ride after sixty years. I am not happy that they told the world before they told the cast, with barely a month’s notice that it was closing. I have a friend who literally transferred there end of May/beginning of June, who has been dreaming of being a Gangster, and now has no idea where he’s going to end up. I am also not super excited that it’s based on the new Mickey cartoons instead of classic ones. I am not a big fan of the new animation style at all. Plus, they really should have waited until Toy Story Land was open to shut it down, Studios really can’t afford to lose another ride right now. Plus now this makes Toy Story Midway Mania the only ride without a height requirement in the park! I did snag Fastpasses for one of the last days as soon as the announcement was made and am going to go film my friend’s tour.

Toy Story Land: I have been excited for Toy Story Land since I saw the concept art for Hong Kong’s in 2010. I am super excited it’ll be ready by next year, but I’m a little sad it only has two rides. The parachute drop ride found in Hong Kong looks like a lot of fun, but I guess it’s too similar to the Tower of Terror.

Star Wars Land-The Galaxy’s Edge: I honestly wasn’t a big Star Wars fan until Force Awakens, thank you Rey, but ever since I’ve thrown myself into the galaxy in a big way. Having seen what they’ve done with Pandora, I am super excited to see what they do with Star Wars. Rex is coming back! I don’t really remember him, but he was awfully cute.

Epcot

Future World: Epcot is my least favorite Disney park. I have never seen the appeal of World Showcase, partially because I’m a picky eater and partially because, generally speaking, eating at Disney is too expensive. Plus I still haven’t forgiven them for getting rid of Duffy’s meet and greet, and I probably never will. I am happy to see it’s finally getting some love and some much needed updates. Future World should have stopped looking like the 80s a long time ago. The new restaurant sounds cool, but I don’t see myself dying to eat there.

Mission Space: I actually haven’t ridden Mission Space since 2013, and I honestly don’t have much of a plan on changing this. It doesn’t make me sick or anything, but I have this OCD quirk where I need to be on the right and whoever I’m with needs to be on the left. The last time I rode Mission Space I got stuck on the left and it was super cramped and I freaked out. I just literally haven’t gone back, but I am happy it’s getting updated for everyone who loves this ride.

France: One of the reasons I don’t love World Showcase is the lack of rides. The theming is beautiful and it’s wonderful, but it’s never been enough to hold my attention for long. The only reason I ever stop in France is looking for Belle or I used to get fancy pastries before we found out about the whole “no dairy” thing. I think I’ve seen Ratatouille once, maybe twice. Mostly I just remember Audrey being mad at me for making her go see it. So I’m not exactly jumping for joy over bringing the ride here from Disneyland Paris, but I’m still happy we’re adding a ride to World Showcase. What I am really excited about is to see a trackless ride system implemented at Disney World.

Guardians of the Galaxy: They should have taken Ellen’s Energy Adventure out when they took away the dinosaurs. I mean, it’s a cute ride but it’s the most dated, longest, air conditioned place for a nap on property. I took my brother on it two years ago and he actually fell asleep. So replacing it with my second favorite Marvel faction? Heck yes! The idea that Star Lord went to Epcot as a kid is a little silly, but James Gunn signed off on it, so I’m in. I can’t wait to hear more details on this one, and it’s probably the announcement I’m the most excited for.

China: I’ve never actually seen the film we have now. Guess I should go check that out before they change it.

Walt Disney World Resort

Skyliner: This rumor had been circulating the internet for months, and I can’t wait to ride it, but I’m mostly curious about capacity. If each car only holds two-four, people are going to be waiting two hours just to get to the parks for the first few years of operation. I’m also psyched to see the different characters on them, but the fact that the concept art has two different styles of Mickey and Minnie trips me out.

Minnie Vans: Okay, these are adorable and I kind of want one for myself. I’m mildly disappointed they don’t actually have bows on them. I can’t believe Disney didn’t jump on this sooner, and we should have expected it with the Theme Park Express. I’m curious if they’ll be limited to dropping people off at the Ticket and Transportation Center for Magic Kingdom, or if they can drop off at the park itself.

Riviera Resort: It looks super pretty, and I’m sure it will be a nice addition but unless someone wants to buy me a Disney Vacation Club membership, I won’t ever get to stay there.

Star Wars “Immersive” Hotel: If this turns out half as cool as the concept art, it will be incredible. As I stated previously, I’m a new Star Wars fan, but I love attention to detail. I love the concept of looking out a window and seeing space instead of Florida. I love the bedrolls in the room art. I love the idea of being completely immersed in the world instead of just visiting it. The price point on this terrifies me, and my wallet whimpered the moment I saw the announcement. I’m also stoked we’re getting something cool before Disneyland. That almost never happens.

California

Pixar Pier: I’ve only been to the California Parks twice in my life, and both times there’s been a major refurb going on so I haven’t really had the full California Adventure experience. I have some friends who are disappointed about this one, but it honestly doesn’t make that much of a difference to me. I’m just glad they’re bringing “Paint the Night” back. I’ve never seen it and I desperately want to, I’m obsessed with the soundtrack.

Marvel Land: Mostly I’m just jealous about this. Stupid Universal and stupid contracts. Everything I’ve seen from some of my west coast friends about the Guardians ride out there looks incredible, and I look forward to what they do next.

Disneyland Halloween: Well that looks fun. Having never experienced Disneyland’s Halloween to begin with, I don’t have much to compare to.

Disney Cruise Line

We have four ships now and I still haven’t made it onto one. One of these days I will make it! Maybe with seven ships the trips on the older ones will be more affordable. I can’t wait to hear the names.

Paris

Of course someone would get a Marvel hotel and it would not be us. Well at least I know where I’m staying when I eventually go run the Paris Half Marathon.

Animation

Not theme park related, but the intro for the Big Hero 6 series looks so cute! I love that Mochi is making biscuits on Baymax. I am more psyched for this series than anything Disney’s put on TV since Girl Meets World. Plus I have a friend who’s engaged to one of the guys working on it so that’s just awesome.

To quote Victoria, “And #NothingForDAK”.

#epcot #hollywood studios #magic kingdom #marvel #star wars #Theme Parks

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