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fbfh · 4 years ago

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dear baby; strawberry milkshakes - leo x reader parents au

words: 1.8k

summary: You and Leo are getting used to adulting together, when Chiron asks for your help. Next thing you know, there’s a little demigod for you two to take care of - and you’re not going to let her down.

warnings: almost boning but getting interrupted, shit is said twice, one use of fucking I think, mentions of orphanages and the foster care system, mentions of CPS, being at a CPS building, adopting a child, leo has trauma, leo and reader take in a child when you’re both 19, technically teen parents but not really, the kid has some trauma too, everyone has trauma but literally what’s new

au: sort of college + parents au

song recs: raining in new york mix - the bootleg boy (tw for some sort of sad dialogue samples), falling in love with love - bernadette peters in cinderella (1997)

a/n: I saw a kids book called Sophia Valdez Future Prez and I know nothing about it but immediately knew I had to do a parents au where you and Leo have a daughter named sophia???????? also I accidentally gave myself baby fever whoopsie

also I was barely able to proof read this and had no brain while writing half of it so if the beginning feels rushed at all that’s why teehee

Straddling his lap, you start to take off Leo’s shirt. He tilts his head to the side as you nip at the skin gently. He moans softly, then tenses.

"Shit!" He hisses, sitting up and pulling your shorts back up. You look at him bewildered, and he nods his head to the side, and you see a shimmery cloud that says that you have an incoming iris message from Chiron.

"Oh shit," you echo, moving to a reasonable distance away from him, a thick throw blanket tossed gracefully across your legs and pulled up to cover your chest, and you're grateful your shirt hadn't been thrown across the room already.

He pulls his shirt down and you toss him a throw pillow to cover his very obvious excitement. You give each other a ready as we'll ever be look and accept the call.

"Hey Chiron… what's up?" Leo asks nonchalantly.

"You must pardon my intrusion, dear children, I hope I'm not - er - interrupting anything.” “No, no, not at all,” you answer, hoping what you had been doing wasn’t too obvious in spite of how both of you are looking particularly flushed and deschevled, “we were just watching a movie.”

Leo nods in agreement, and you list two different movies at the exact same time, the dark knight rises and moonstruck.

A beat passes, and you continue, “Double feature. Just finished Batman and we’re about to start Moonstruck.”

Leo agrees. You can’t tell if Chiron is buying it, but he seems to move on relatively quickly.

“Right. I’m afraid I must ask for your help with a rather time sensitive situation.” your brows furrow in unicen as he continues.

He tells you about a young demigod a satyr found, not even four years old yet, but they haven’t been able to get her to camp. Apparently there were some complications, and CPS was called, now they’re looking for her parents to see if she’s going to a foster home or orphanage. If they can’t get to her before the CPS finishes processing her, she’ll be lost in the system. He’s asking older demigods and demigod families in New York, since processing time will go the fastest if the family or guardians are in-state.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please consider taking her in, at least temporarily.” You and Leo share a look, hearts already hurting that life has gotten to this kid so soon.

“I’ll give you some time to discuss this, please call me back as soon as you have an answer.”

You agree, and the shimmery image of Chiron dissipates.

“... Oh my god,” you breathe.

You turn to each other again, the same thing mirrored in each other's eyes. An immediate, unspoken conformation that there’s no way you can’t help this kid out passes between you. You know Leo, especially, will do whatever needs to be done to keep another orphaned demigod out of the foster system. The scope of the impact you could have on this kid’s life starts to dawn on you, and you lock eyes with Leo again, his face set in determination.

“Estrella,” he starts, and you know what he’s going to say.

“I know,” you confirm in agreement.

His leg is bouncing, and you lean over, grabbing a notepad and pen from the coffee table. Your mind is already racing, and you begin scribbling down a list of everything you’d need to do; get her a bed and clothes, research where she is in her developmental stages, put together a meal plan or at least some foods she’ll like - what do toddlers even eat? He starts pacing around the coffee table.

“We gotta help this kid, we-” he cuts himself off, overwhelmed with determination.

“We will.” you confirm, equally determined. You grab your laptop and start copying your list digitally so you can get everything organized. You stare at your reflection in the black screen while you wait for your computer to boot up. Once again, the reality of your situation hits you.

“We’re 19…” you state, in disbelief. Your mind is racing with doubts. What if you somehow make everything worse, what if you can’t handle it? He crouches next to you, placing his hand on your cheek.

“And we have a lot of love to give.” The smile in your eyes tells him that you know he’s right. You transcribe your writing, surprised that you’re okay with how fast this is all moving, and you let out another breathy laugh of disbelief.

You go through your hastily made checklist, switching between tabs about child psychology, parenting advice, and kid’s furniture and clothes websites, strategizing with Leo on how you can pull this off, and a plan gradually comes together.

“I mean, this is a two bedroom,” he says as you look through pages of bed frames and mattresses, “we can clear out our studio and turn it into her room.”

“And…” you add, checking yet another tab, “there’s a building nearby that rents out studio spaces and workshop areas. Ooh, and free parking.” you read on the website. It’s already late, but you send them an email anyway. Hopefully they’ll get back to you tomorrow. But for now…

“We can get a bed tonight, but we’d have to hurry. We can probably get some pjs and maybe a stuffed animal while we’re there- toothbrush!” You exclaim, adding it to your list, “I knew I was forgetting something…”

Leo stops pacing, and looks at you. “So… we’re doing this?” You can’t fight the smile on your face, and he already has his answer.

“We’d better call Chiron back,” you say, excitedly bubbling out. You both enter the bathroom, and iris message chiron with mist from the shower. He answers almost immediately.

“We thought it over and…” you trail off, letting him finish.

“We want to help.”

After changing into some presentable clothes and swinging by the store for a car seat and some other essentials (you almost forgot tooth paste this time), you’re driving with Leo to meet Chiron at the CPS office where they had Sophia - the girl Chiron told you about. You call the Ikea store not too far from your apartment, thankful you’re able to reach them before they close. You arrange to have them deliver a toddler bed to the spare bedroom in your apartment, your neighbor agreeing to let them in. Luckily, you had the presence of mind to get most of your and Leo’s stuff out of there, the corner of the living room now holding your desk and his drafting table.

You’re still a little blurry on the details of how you’re going to get custody of this kid when you’re barely legal and have no ties to her or her family, but Chiron said he could work everything out. You assume the Mist will come in very handy. You and Leo discuss this on the way over.

You can tell he’s worried. Knowing the horrors he went through in the foster system would be bad enough without all the demigod bullshit on top of everything. You take another deep breath.

“This is what’s best for her,” he says matter of factly, “she needs to be with people who understand her.” You agree, and he continues, very fired up.

“She needs to be in an environment where she’s not going to be ignored and ostracized; she needs to be part of a family, not a fucking meal ticket.”

You squeeze his leg supportively, and he takes another breath.

“You’re right. And she’s going to get all of that.” He scoffs in agreement.

“There’s not a better place for someone like her than-”

“With someone like her.” you finish. He pulls into the parking lot and you enter, meeting Chiron in the building. Your hand holds Leo’s tightly, unsure of who’s shaking more. Chiron explains that he already had a discussion (wink wink) with the social worker, and knows that he has the perfect couple to take little Sophia in, and all you have to do is meet with her and sign some papers.

So that brings you here, waiting outside the office door, holding each other’s trembling hands before finally entering. She doesn’t look up at you at first, until the social worker introduces you. Leo squeezes your hand, and she finally looks up, her eyes speaking a language you and Leo know. You know there is absolutely no going back from here, and you both sit down across from her.

��Hi, you’re Sophia, right?” She looks away, clearly and understandably overwhelmed.

“Don’t be rude, Sophia-” the social worker starts, but you cut her off.

“It’s okay, she didn’t do anything wrong.” you turn back to her, “You know, me and Leo have an extra bedroom at our apartment, and a kitten that I think would really like you. Do you want to come stay with us?”

She doesn’t look back up right away, but she turns her head towards you.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asks softly. How is she so precious already?

“A girl,” you reply, “named Jackhammer, because she purrs so loud.”

She giggles, and you and Leo squeeze each other’s hands in unison.

“Really?” she asks.

“Oh yeah,” you reply, “I’m sure she’d love to play catch the mouse with you.” She considers for a moment, then looks over at the social worker, who gives her an encouraging nod. After a moment of consideration, she replies quietly, “...Okay.”

She hops down from her chair, and you both follow suit. The social worker hands you some papers, and you both sign. You guide her to the lobby, let Chiron know it went well and promise to update him soon, and bring her to the car. You pull out of the parking lot.

Not long after leaving, you see a fast food place.

“Are you guys hungry?” you ask, nudging Leo gently.

“Yeah, I could definitely go for some fries. How bout you Sophia?”

She nods, then asks quietly, “Can I get a milkshake?”

Her expression is hesitant, and you get the sense she’s expecting a no.

“Of course kiddo,” you say.

“What flavor do you want?” Leo finishes, turning to look at her. Her eyes are bright with hesitant excitement.

“Strawberry, please.”

After leaving the drive through, you have Leo search through your phone for any kid friendly music, and discover the only thing you have saved that’s appropriate for present company is the soundtrack to the Cinderella musical from 1997.

That’s how your little family started; driving late at night, singing along to Bernadette Peters, and drinking strawberry milkshakes.

#Leo Valdez #leo x reader #Heroes of Olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez imagine

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sk1fanfiction · 4 years ago

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the many faces of tom riddle, part 5

- more myth than man... or not? the mortality of tom riddle and the anatomy of a villain-

That leaves us with Ralph Fiennes’ portrayal of adult Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort in movies 4-8.

I generally find adult Tom Riddle disappointing, even in the books, in terms of character depth. Instead of delving into his motivations and the inner psychology of a villain, we get... slight body horror? And in the movies, it’s even more egregious.

If a story is as good as its villain, adult Tom Riddle is a bit of a let-down, especially on-screen.

“I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive.”

Perhaps the very first time I watched it, I found this scary, but I must confess that nowadays, Voldemort’s resurrection is more funny to me than anything else. The forked tongue and the nose slits, yes, are supposed to allude to Tom Riddle’s loss of humanity, but I don’t think it...worked out that way in practice.

I know that’s how it is in the books, but ugly equals evil (and vice versa) is a tired trope. not only that, but under the CGI, Lord Voldemort is so difficult to relate to, so inhuman, that it’s hard to (1) see his true depravity (2) connect with him emotionally (3) at least for me, not laugh at him flapping around the graveyard in GOF like an oversized crow.

Now, the reason I’m going on about this is not (just) me being petty. Lord Voldemort is the Boggart for most of the characters in the HP universe, meaning their greatest fear is Lord Voldemort. He represents Fear; as such, he should be utterly terrifying. Now, I don’t mean horrifying in that sense, but Voldemort’s grand entrance should at least feel somewhat unsettling, have some sort of a Gothic atmosphere...

"But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron."

Visually, this looks great. But it’s not scary. And I’m not a purist by any means, but the words are scarier than the book. Darkness induces fear.

“The lack of any kind of visual stimuli increases anxiety, uncertainty, and tension.”

So, having Voldemort’s pale body materialize isn’t as scary as it could be.

Furthermore, I think Fiennes’ overexaggerated expressions would actually come across as properly horrifying/threatening rather than funny if they just left his face alone. Yes, Fiennes does manage to emote the fear and the anger through the CGI, but it’s like he’s too alien to be scary, at least to me. The amount of memes with Voldemort suggest I’m not the only one this way inclined.

I think there’s probably a problem going on with the uncanny valley. (Images from the Mori essay linked).

[When things are still]

[Creepy things are creepier when moving]

Now, I assume Voldemort is meant to be zombie-creepy, or at least that how Harry describes him in the books.

"The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry...and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's but with slits for nostrils...."

Now, we can’t get Harry’s experience of being haunted by Voldemort in his dreams, because what I think makes Voldemort’s countenance so truly frightening to the other characters isn’t his snake-like nose or his red eyes, but the potential. Voldemort is, in essence, the Grim Reaper. You are at his mercy, and you’re probably going to be dead.

“This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.“

And yes, Voldemort can be quite funny and witty, but..

“I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers will give their right hands to perform.” (To Peter Pettigrew)

...it’s still incredibly dark, sadistic humour. Whereas the teenage Tom Riddle we’ve been discussing has just barely dipped his toes into evil, Voldemort is, well... swimming in it. At this point, he think he undeniably enjoys causing pain.

And much of what makes Voldemort scary is subtle.

For example, what I personally consider haunting is the fact that he’s got a cave full of Inferi. A cave full of reanimated dead bodies.

Either he dug them up, which is unlikely... or perhaps, a twenty-seven-or-so-year-old Tom Riddle would lie in wait like a bird of prey, very quietly and patiently, perhaps reading a book, waiting for an unsuspecting Muggle to wander past. Maybe killing is a game to him at this point, when it’s not so personal as killing Harry Potter. Maybe it’s a whispered Avada Kedavra, and then he carries the dead body away to his cave. Maybe he Imperiuses them to walk off the cliff. Maybe he tortures them first.

Shudder.

And I don’t think you can show that kind of horror through any CGI or make-up, so...

You know what is terrifying? Revolting? True crime; real-life people who do unspeakably horrible things. And I think a lot was missed out on, in stripping Tom Riddle physically of his humanity. Yes, Riddle is a monster...

But, as we’ve seen, he’s a human monster, not some eldritch horror from the seventh level of hell or something.

I just think it would be interesting to have this perfectly normal-looking human do all the horrific things Voldemort does. I want to see that sick joy in a human face and feel disgusted. I want to see fear make his bottom lip tremble, and feel a misplaced sense of empathy. (Think President Snow from the Hunger Games -- now, that’s a sick, twisted villain who we can relate to as a human being, but still love to hate -- or what about The Joker?).

And out of everything they chose to CGI, why on earth did they not make his eyes scarlet? That might have made him look at least somewhat menacing, rather than a failed lab experiment.

(Don’t even get me started on his and Bellatrix’s death scenes in the movies-)

Here’s President Snow. He’s got a cute little granddaughter, he sends kiddies to kill each other Battle Royale-style every year, and he poisons all his political opponents. He’s also a master manipulator and has a penchant for white roses. They cover up the smell of the sores in his mouth from eating the poison too, to conceal his treachery.

Heath Ledger as the Joker in Dark Knight (2008), who is, according to NYT (which I totally agree with), the best Joker. Now this is a villain done right, with many Voldemort-like traits. On a scale of one-to-ten, he’s absolutely terrifying. Why? He’s (unlike Voldemort in the movies) incredibly intelligent, shows young-Tom-Riddle-like skills for charm and manipulation, plays with humans like they’re his own personal psychology experiment (and to hell with the Institutional Review Board), and has one, single, very clear goal -- chaos. Like Voldemort, he wears an inhuman mask that’s not horrifying in its own right; but unlike Voldemort, the human is all there -- terrifying, real, and with a bottomless, obsessive desire to destroy. His disordered thinking is all out there for the audience to see. The Joker’s motivation is to enjoy himself; whereas Voldemort seems to lack drive. Why does he want to take over the world -- who knows, with Voldemort? The Joker wants to see it burn.

Let’s try to do the same with Lord Voldemort:

[SLIGHT FLASH WARNING]

I had to go with this because Voldemort isn’t legitimately terrifying in many scenes. And yes, this unrefined anger somewhat speaks to Tom’s immaturity

By this point, seventy-one year old Tom Riddle is a hollowed-out shell of a human being. After decades of building his power, he was defeated by a one-year-old, and ended up slumming it as a spirit for a decade, got defeated again, was a shrivelled-up baby for a year, then finally got his body back.

He’s angry, okay! And Fiennes does a great job of portraying the sheer, destructive, unbridled rage of this character.

The body language. again, since his face is inhuman, this is super important. and Fiennes’ body language is great. Voldemort/Riddle commits to his actions. He is very emotionally-driven.

But yet, he doesn’t feel capable, in the way that the Joker or President Snow do. Yeah, we know anecdotally that he’s incredibly evil, sadistic, and second only to Dumbledore in terms of power, but he loses to a baby, and then that same baby as a teenager. So, we really could have done with seeing Voldemort’s power, cruelty, and evil firsthand a lot more often.

Voldemort is not well-characterized. I don’t understand his motives, and the ones that I do understand are not compelling.

Not to die? Well, he’s already made several Horcruxes. Why not sit back and relax? Why start a war and risk himself?

JKR said that Voldemort’s great desire was to become all-powerful and eternal. But that’s... boring! It does little to tell us about Voldemort, other than that he’s a villain and a wannabe dictator.

Furthermore, the charm, manipulation, and cunning that are hallmarks of younger Tom Riddle’s personality are gone.

Is Voldemort (to return to Jungian terms) all shadow? An empty creature of simple creation and destruction, perhaps? We’ll discuss this further down...

And this isn’t a problem of having a fantastical world with magic and the like. Grindelwald’s quiet, self-possessed, almost coy “So you think you can hold me?” was infinitely scarier than anything that has ever come out of Voldemort’s mouth. It was chilling.

OOTP is my favorite book, and the Ministry sequence is one of my favourite in the films.

This scene where he psyches out Harry, talking so quietly that he could just be a little voice inside his head (and again, during the possession scene)? Absolute perfection.

Why? Because this showcases what’s truly scary about him. Voldemort can get into your head. He can make you do things. And perhaps, if we had seen that more often, we’d understand how scary he is.

I wish this had been his grand entrance, and not whatever that scene in GOF was. Somehow, him screeching “I WANT TO SEE THE LIGHT LEAVE YOUR EYES!” is not menacing. At all.

But, I can’t help but think how much greater the emotional affect would be if he had more human features (think the burned-and-blurred, waxy features from Dumbledore’s memory).

Just imagine these scenes if Voldemort looked human, and spoke as quietly as he did in this one.

Because of the reason that I have little to go on in terms of characterization that I haven’t already covered, we’ll discuss the myth and legend of Lord Voldemort.

I can’t decide if the statue in the films is supposed to be the Angel of Death or the Grim Reaper. He has a skeleton and carries a scythe, but he also has wings. There are so many different interpretations, attitudes towards, and personifications of Death across the world that I don’t want to draw any one conclusion. But I must wonder if Lord Voldemort, with his yew-and-phoenix wand (which carries heavy symbolism of immortality and rebirth) and almost deified figure is meant to be a personification of Death himself? His name, Lord Voldemort, is a shade close to Lord Death.

For years, it has stumped me that wizards and witches are afraid to utter Voldemort’s name, especially since we only see the Taboo in the middle of the last book. It didn’t make sense just based on fear; in the real world, we don’t circumvent Hitler’s name, for example.

Perhaps this may have been obvious to others, but it wasn’t to me.

Here’s a counterargument to myself; why Voldemort shouldn’t look human.

Voldemort, in the Wizarding World, is seen as a literal deity.

I promised to attempt to answer this question in Part 3:

And so, I can’t help but wonder if the opposite is true… if Tom Riddle creates Horcruxes, would that grant him additional magic powers?

In Part 3, I likened Tom Riddle to a sorcerer in Russian folklore, Koschei the Deathless, also famous for sequestering his soul in objects. This source suggests that Koschei was considered not an ordinary magician, but a representative of the ‘other’ world, the world of death.

So, what if... creating Horcruxes makes you... more than human? Now, I could definitely see god-like status being appealing to sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle. Perhaps, even appealing enough to kill for. Now, his proclivity for Avada Kedavra makes sense. We know it’s an incredibly sinister spell, but at the same time, it’s a very humane way to kill. Why might it be so horrifying?

Here’s a weird theory.

To the best of my knowledge, no one but Voldemort is seen using the Killing Curse more than once or twice.

Perhaps, ordinary mortals can only cast Avada Kedavra a few times, but Tom, having split his soul and having become in some way a non-human instrument of Death, can cast it however many times as he likes, and that is part of what serves to make him so terrifying.

This makes the idea of Voldemort tossing around Avada Kedavras actually incredibly terrifying, if you take into account what that might mean.

The collective cultural fear of speaking Voldemort’s name supports this theory.

Take the chthonic (underworld) deities of Greek mythology; most notably, Hades and Persephone, the king and queen of the underworld.

Hades, the god of the dead, was feared.

So feared that the word ‘Hades’ (”the unseen one”) was so frightening, that people came up with all sorts of euphemisms to circumvent actually saying it and he was rarely even depicted in art. For example, they would refer to him as Pluto (”the rich one”), Clymenus ("notorious"), Polydegmon ("who receives many"), and perhaps Eubuleus ("good counsel" or "well-intentioned"), amongst many other names.

However, he was not seen as evil; just stern, cruel, and fair. Like most Greek gods, he had an associated cult (the Death Eaters, anyone?)

Another interesting connection between Hades and Voldemort is that Hades was associated with snakes.

Persephone (suggested to have a pre-Greek origin and probably pre-dates Hades), who was also a vegetation/fertility/spring goddess, similarly, was referred to as Despoina (”the mistress”), Kore (”the maiden”), etc, because as the terrible Queen of the Dead, it was considered unsafe to speak her name aloud. In mythology and literature, she is sometimes referred to as ‘dread Persephone.’

--Just like how Lord Voldemort is referred to as The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who... (and if you’re Dumbledore, ‘Tom’.)

Her central myth served as the context for the secret rites of regeneration at Eleusis (which was basically a mystery cult devoted to her and her mother, Demeter), which promised immortality to initiates.

We don’t know for certain what exactly went on, because, mystery cult -- the members were sworn to secrecy -- but it revolved around immortality and rebirth and possibly psychoactive drugs.

Perhaps ironically, in comparison to the Death Eaters, anyone could join, as long as they could speak Greek and had never committed murder.

And that concludes my assessment!

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #lord voldemort #character study #tw: murder #the body horror was 1/10 #don't make your character design hilarious if you want him to be scary #i'm not saying voldemort is a vegetation deity #but i'm not-not saying it either

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rubykgrant · 4 years ago

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I made a slightly condensed version of my Spooky Ref list; it still has a heck ton of movies and books, but now I combined certain categories, eliminated a few, and removed some of the titles that don’t quite fit. If you are looking for things to watch or read so you can get into the Halloween mood (or of you just like some creepy content), here you go!

Movies and Books for October

These range from children’s media to adult content, so be sure to check the ratings/reviews, this way you’ll find ones that are suitable for the right viewers. The dates of movies and names of authors for books are included to make searches easier

(a * symbol is for when a title is in both sections, a book that got made into a movie, ect)

Halloween and Ghosts

Movies- Hocus Pocus (1993), *the Halloween Tree (1993), the Nightmare before Christmas (1993), Trick r Treat (2007), Monster House (2006), Halloweentown (1998), the Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1949), Scary Godmother Halloween Spooktacular (2003), Poltergeist (1982), the Haunting (1999), Casper (1995), Ghostbusters (1984), the Haunted Mansion (2003), Thirteen Ghosts (2001), the Others (2001)

Books- How to Drive Your Family Crazy on Halloween by Dean Marney,*the Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury, the Haunted Mask (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, Dark Harvest by Norman Partridge, Stonewords a Ghost Story by Pam Conrad, Deep and Dark and Dangerous by Mary Downing Hahn, Ghost Beach (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, All the Lovely Bad Ones by Mary Downing Hahn, the Crossroads by Chris Grabenstein, Wait Till Helen Comes by Mary Downing Hahn

Witch/ESP/Mental Powers

Movies- *Practical Magic (1998), *the Wizard of Oz (1939), *the Witches (1990), Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989), Scooby-Doo and the Witch’s Ghost (1999) *Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001), the Craft (1996), the Witches of Eastwick (1987), *Carrie (1976), *Firstarter (1984), *Matilda (1996), the Last Mimzy (2007)

Books- *Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman, *the Witches by Roald Dahl, Charmed Life by Diana Wynne Jones, *Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by JK Rowling, *the Wizard of Oz by L Frank Baum, T*Witches by HB Gilmour and Randi Reisfeld, the Worst Witch by Jill Murphy, *Carrie by Stephen King, *Firestarter by Stephen King, *Matilda by Roald Dahl, Scorpion Shards (Star Shards Chronicles) by Neal Shusterman, the Witch’s Boy by Michael Gruber

Vampire and Werewolf

Movies- Blade (1998), the Little Vampire (2000), Hellboy Blood and Iron (2007), *Hotel Transylvania (2012), Fright Night (2011), What We Do in the Shadows (2014), Alvin and the Chipmunks meet The Wolfman (2000), Ginger Snaps (2000), Van Helsing (2004) Wolf Children (2012), the Wolfman (1941)

Books- Bunnicula by James and Deborah Howe, Dracula by Bram Stoker, ‘Salem’s Lot by Stephen King, Red Rider’s Hood by Neal Shusterman, the Werewolf of Fever Swamp (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, Werewolves Don't Go to Summer Camp (Bailey School Kids) by Debbie Dadey and Marcia Jones, Blood and Chocolate by Annette Curtis Klause, Night of the Werepoodle by Constance Hiser

Zombies and Slasher/Gore

Movies- Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island (1998), ParaNorman (2012), Night of the Living Dead (1968), *Pet Sematary (1989), Zombieland (2009), Resident Evil (2002), Dawn of the Dead (2004) Scream (1996), a Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), *I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997), Kill Bill (2003), Happy Death Day (2017), the Hills Have Eyes (2006), US (2019), Friday the 13th (1980), the Thing (1982), *the Girl with all the Gifts (2016)

Books- *Pet Sematary by Stephen King, the Haunting of Derek Stone by Tony Abott, Welcome to Dead House (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, *I know What You Did Last Summer by Lois Duncan, the Dark Half by Stephen King, The Dead Girlfriend (Point Horror) by RL Stine, Another by Yukito Ayatsuji, the Prom Queen (Fear Street) by RL Stine, *the Girl with all the Gifts by MR Carey

Demons/Possession/Afterlife

Movies- the Omen (1976), Insidious (2010), the Exorcist (1973), *Christine (1983), City of Angels (1998), All Dogs go to Heaven (1989), Fallen (1998), *Rosemary’s Baby (1968), Bedazzled (2000), What Dreams May Come (1998), the Book of Life (2014), Flatliners (2017), *the Lovely Bones (2009), Coco (2017), Jennifer’s Body (2009), the Mummy (1999)

Books- *Christine by Stephen King, Needful Things by Stephen King, HECK where the bad kids go by Dale E Bayse,* Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin, Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Paradise Lost by John Milton, Inferno by Dante Alighieri, *the Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

Monsters/Mythology/Dangerous Animals

Movies- Monsters Inc (2001), Godzilla (1998), *a Monster Calls (2016), *Jurassic Park (1993), King Kong (1933), Doug’s 1st Movie (1999), Darkness Falls (2003), Atlantis the lost empire (2001), Sinbad Legend of the Seven Seas (2003), *the Last Unicorn (1982), Urban Legend (1998), *How to Train Your Dragon (2010), the Flight of Dragons (1982), Shrek (2001), *the Hobbit (1977), Quest for Camelot (1998), Ferngully the last rainforest (1992), Lake Placid (1999), Jaws (1975), *Cujo (1983), Deep Blue Sea (1999), Anaconda (1997)

Books- *a Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, *Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, Sasquatch by Roland Smith, *the Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle, the Moorchild by Eloise Jarvis McGraw, the Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) by Rick Riordan, the Boggart by Susan Cooper, *How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell, Jeremy Thatcher Dragon Hatcher by Bruce Coville, *the Hobbit by JRR Tolkien, *Cujo by Stephen King, Cat in the Crypt (Animal Ark Hauntings) by Ben M Baglio, Congo by Michael Crichton, Watership Down by Richard Adams, the Dark Pond by Joseph Bruchac

Dolls and Toys, Circus/Carnival/Clowns, Comedy Horror

Movies- *Coraline (2009), the Adventures of Pinocchio (1996), Child’s Play (1988), Toy Story (1995), 9 (2009), We’re Back a dinosaur’s story (1993), the Care Bears Movie (1985), Little Nemo adventures in Slumberland (1989), *Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983), *Big Top Scooby-Doo (2012), Killer Klowns from Outer Space, *IT (2017), *Beetlejuice (1988), Army of Darkness (1992), Gremlins (1984), Arachnophobia (1990), Jawbreaker (1999), Tremors (1990), the Frighteners (1996), Twilight Zone the Movie (1983), Little Shop of Horrors (1986), Eight Legged Freaks (2002), the Goonies (1985)

Books- Frozen Charlotte by Alex Bell, *Coraline by Neil Gaiman, No Flying in the House by Betty Brock, Doll Bones by Holly Black, Joyland by Stephen King, *Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury, the Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, *IT by Stephen King, the Cuckoo Clock of Doom (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, a Dirty Job by Christopher Moore jr, Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (Treasury) by Alvin Schwartz and illustrated by Stephen Gammell, JTHM (Director’s Cut) by Jhonen Vasquez

Gothic/Dark Fantasy, Curse/Transformation

Movies- *the Addams Family (1991), Rebecca (1940), Edward Scissorhands (1990), Mama (2013), the Phantom of the Opera (2004), Crimson Peak (2010), Legend (1985), the Dark Crystal (1982), Labyrinth (1986), *the Neverending Story (1984), *the Secret of NIMH (1982), Anastasia (1997), Howl’s Moving Castle (2004), Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Willow (1988), *the Last Unicorn (1982), the Princess Bride (1987), *Legend of the Guardians the Owls of Ga'Hoole, Beauty and the Beast (1991), the Princess and the Frog (2009), the Swan Princess (1994), the Thing (1982), the Mask (1994), Freaky Friday (2003), Song of the Sea (2014), Pirates of the Caribbean the Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)

Books- the Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, the Shining by Stephen King, Remember Me by Mary Higgins Clark, a Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, Well Witched (Verdigris Deep) by Frances Hardinge, Poison by Chris Wooding, *the Neverending Story by Michael Ende, *Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C O'Brien, a Tale Dark and Grimm by Adam Gidwitz, the Dark Portal by Robin Jarvis, Zel by Donna Jo Napoli, *the Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle, *Guardians of Ga’Hoole by Kathryn Lasky, Owl in Love by Patrice Kindl

Mystery/Thriller/Psychological/Suspense

Movies- Clue (1985), *Holes (2003), Get Out (2017), Hot Fuzz (2007), Minority Report (2002), Kidnap (2017), Saw (2004), Wind River (2017), Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), the Great Mouse Detective (1986), Eve’s Bayou (1997), Breaking In (2018), Cube (1997), *Secret Window (2004), Silent Hill (2006), the Sixth Sense (1999), the Good Son (1993), Psycho (1960), Donnie Darko (2001), Fargo (1996), the Game (1997), the Invisible Man (2020), Breaking In (2018)

Books- *Holes by Louis Sachar, the Lost (the Outer Limits) by John Peel, We’ll Meet Again by Mary Higgins Clark, When the Bough Breaks by Jonathan Kellerman, *Secret Window Secret Garden (Four Past Midnight) by Stephen King, House of Stairs by William Sleator, Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Dolores Claiborne by Stephen King, Tangerine by Edward Bloor, Lord of the Flies by William Golding, the Girl who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King

Sci-Fi/Space Aliens, Robots and Technology

Movies- I Robot (2004), the Iron Giant (1999), the Terminator (1984), AI artificial intelligence (2001), the Stepford Wives (2004), Wall-E (2008), *Screamers (1995), *Sphere (1998), *Blade Runner (1982), *2001 a Space Odyssey (1968), MIB (1997), Mission to Mars (2000), Galaxy Quest (1999), Alien (1979), ET the extra terrestrial (1982), Independence Day (1996), Spaced Invaders (1990), Buzz Lightyear of Star Command the Adventure Begins (2000), Chicken Little (2005), *War of the Worlds (1953), *Contact (1997), Signs (2002), Treasure Planet (2002), Frequency (2000), Back to the Future (1985), the Time Machine (1960), Planet of the Apes (1968), Lost in Space (1998)

Books- the Terminal Man by Michael Crichton, Feed by Matthew Tobin Anderson, *Second Variety (Screamers) by Phillip K Dick, *I Robot by Isaac Asimov, Cell by Stephen King, *Sphere by Michael Crichton, *Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep (Blade Runner) by Philip K Dick , *2001 a Space Odyssey by Arthur C Clarke, a Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle, Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card, the Dark Side of Nowhere by Neal Shusterman, *War of the Worlds by HG Wells, *Contact by Carl Sagan, Childhood’s End by Arthur C Clarke, Aliens Don’t Wear Braces (the Baily School Kids) by Debbie Dadey and Marcia Jones, the Invasion (Animorphs) by KA Applegate

Dystopia/Disaster, Other Worlds

Movies- Waterworld (1995), the Matrix (1999), Escape from New York (1981), *Demolition Man (1993), the Day After Tomorrow (2004), Volcano (1997), the Fifth Element (1997), Titan AE (2000), Armageddon (1998), Twister (1996), the Birds (1963), the Book of Eli, (2010) Spirited Away (2001), *Alice in Wonderland (1951), Pleasantville (1998), *the Phantom Tollbooth (1970), *the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005), *Hook (1991), the Pagemaster (1994), *James and the Giant Peach (1996)

Books- Among the Hidden by Margaret Peterson Haddix, Uglies by Scott Westerfeld, the Road by Cormac McCarthy, the House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer, 1984 by George Orwell, Armageddon Summer by Bruce Coville and Jane Yolen, the Giver by Lois Lowry, the City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau, *Brave New World (Demolition Man) by Aldous Huxley, Malice by Chris Wooding, * the Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, *Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, the Golden Compass (His Dark Materials) by Philip Pullman, *The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (the Chronicles of Narnia) by CS Lewis, *James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl

Anime/Manga and J-Horror

Movies- Akira (1988), Perfect Blue (1997), Ring (1998), Dark Water (2002), Ghost in the Shell (1995), Tokyo Godfathers (2003), Cat Soup (2001), *Cowboy Bebop the Movie (2001), Blood the Last Vampire (2000), Pokemon the First Movie (1998), Sailor Moon R Promise of the Rose (1993), DBZ the World’s Strongest (1990), Digimon the Movie (2000), Ju-On (2000)

Manga- Claymore by Norihiro Yagi, Death Note by Tsugumi Ohba and illustrated by Takeshi Obata, *Yu Yu Hakusho by Yoshihiro Togashi, *Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa, *Blue Exorcist by Kazue Katō, *Soul Eater by Atsushi Ōkubo, *Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi,

Anime- *Yu Yu Hakusho, *Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, *Soul Eater, *Blue Exorcist, *Inuyasha, *Cowboy Bebop, Mob Psycho 100, .hack//SIGN , the Promised Neverland, Paranoia Agent, Tokyo Ghoul, Hellsing Ultimate

Super Hero

Movies- Hellboy (2004), Ghost Rider (2007), the Incredibles (2004), Batman Beyond return of the Joker (2000), TMNT (2007), Logan (2017), Black Panther (2018), Sky High (2005), Spider-Man into the Spider-Verse (2018), Justice League Crisis on Two Earths (2010), Batman Under the Red Hood (2010)

Comics- Animal Man (New 52, 2011) DC Comics, Swamp Thing (New 52, 2011) DC Comics, BPRD Dark Waters (2012) Dark Horse Comics, Nextwave (Agents of HATE, 2006) Marvel Comics

Animated Series- Batman the Animated Series, X-Men Evolution, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2003), Darkwing Duck, the Powerpuff Girls, Teen Titans (2005), Static Shock, Green Lantern the Animated Series

Cartoons and TV shows

Over the Garden Wall, The Simpsons (Treehouse of Horrors), Regular Show (Terror Tales of the Park), Adventure Time (Stakes), Scooby-Doo Where Are You/What’s New Scooby-Doo, El Tigre the Adventures of Manny Rivera, Phineas and Ferb (Night of the Living Pharmacists), Gravity Falls, Good Omens, Miracle Workers, Grimm, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, What We Do In the Shadows, Hotel Transylvania the series, Wolf’s Rain, Danny Phantom, Aaahh Real Monsters, the Munsters, So Weird, Tutenstein, Gargoyles, Xena Warrior Princess, Are You Afraid of the Dark, Tales from the Crypt, Goosebumps, Samurai Jack, Metalocalypse, Super Jail, My Life as a Teenage Robot, Futurama, the Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, *Beetlejuice (animated series), Sabrina the Animated Series, the Owl House, Bewitched, Growing Up Creepy, the Addams Family (animated series), a Series of Unfortunate Events, Courage the Cowardly Dog, Star VS the Forces of Evil, Amphibia, Infinity Train, Penn Zero Part-Time Hero, Murder She Wrote, the Venture Bros, Avatar the Last Airbender, Invader ZIM, People of Earth, Star Trek Next Gen, Rick and Morty, Buzz Lightyear of Star Command

#text #ref #movies #books #spooky #horror #creepy #movie list #book list #halloween #halloween movies #halloween books

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starkey · 4 years ago

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[Spoilers for The Haunting of Bly Manor!]

I know everyone is super loving Bly Manor cause ~80′s gays~!!! but some stuff about it sat really bad for me so I’m gonna try to verbalise it. Obviously if you loved it and aren't vibing with a critical analysis I'm not offended if you don't read lol. Also I’m not trying to say that there’s anything wrong with liking it! I just...didn’t, and I want to think about why, for a sec. (Sorry this got a bit long)

I think part of my problem is that I count Hill House as one of my favourite shows ever and I had ridiculously high hopes for Bly Manor, which probably couldn't ever have been fully realised. And there was actually a lot about it that I liked, especially at the begining. I thought the kids were great, and I loved the core group of Mrs Grose, Owen, Dani and Jamie. I liked the fact that the Henry Wingrave element was expanded upon, and I liked the complexity of Rebecca and Peter, and the room it gave them to be fully realised human beings. I quite enjoyed that they kept to the Hill House ghost mythology - that ghosts are lost in time but fixed in place, and that they jump from memory to memory, and haunt the people that they care about without knowing. But there were lots of things I wasn't so keen on...

Until the last episode my issues were mainly that it felt a bit...lazy? I can't stress it enough but the british accents were really really bad. Old!Jamie’s accent was deeply unbelievable and jarring, as was Henry Wingrave's, and although Peter’s accent was passable (I assume because the actor is English and not American like the others) it still didn’t match his mothers, or his ‘background’ - i.e. it sounded like a private school Edinburgh accent, not a Glasgow kid dragged up through poverty in the scheme - and yes there is a significant difference in those accents. I appreciate there’s a degree of privilege at play here - I’m used to the BBC producing high quality television where these details aren’t messed about with, and the production of Bly Manor was thoroughly American, but to put it in perspective, it would be like... if a character had a deep south dirt-poor Louisiana upbringing and spoke like somebody from a private school in Virginia. Other details also felt off - Rebecca’s costumes all seemed weirdly 2020-adjacent, none of the fashion or ancillary details seemed to match the UK in the 80s (which has a distinct feel), and the house that Peter returned to on his ‘memory bumps’ looked much more like an LA condo than a Scottish council house. Really, they should have just set it in America, because it felt more American than British, and they clearly didn't have any British people involved in the production.

I really didn't enjoy the narrative framing device of 'someone telling a story to a group of people at a party'. It makes sense in the Turn of the Screw, because the narrator is reading from a document written at the time of the events, so the narration becomes a first person one where the degree of detail is logically accounted for. In this take, the story alternated from being one which made sense - us just watching the characters move around normally - to one in which 'Jamie' (who’d apparently had a complete personality transplant that had turned her from a feisty northern lesbian into a coy, mysterious victorian englishwoman with a severe accent problem) adopted a falsely old-fashioned manner and told the wedding guests a ten hour long story about a haunted house. And somehow neither Flora nor Miles recognised any part of this story in the least, in spite of what must have been overwhelming similarities? It was very jarring.

I also kept waiting for a twist on a level with Hill House, but never got one. The big twist about Mrs Grose was, I thought, obvious from almost the first episode. I mean the woman didn’t eat or drink anything and spent most of her time confused about where she was, I thought it was fairly clear that she was a ghost. And yeah, I suppose because I’ve read the book I was never in any doubt that Peter was already dead. The ghosts in the background were much less spooky than in Hill House. They stood around in broad daylight while the characters talked and joked and it kind of felt like the ghosts had wandered in by accident and felt too awkward to leave. I really liked how spooky Hill House was - even apart from the jump scares I thought the psychological elements and the open discussion of death and grief was really affecting. I didn’t feel that at all in Bly Manor, and by the time we found out the details of Mrs Grose’s death, I’d already come to terms with it. But all of this would have been fine, if it hadn’t been for the last episode.

I really really didn’t enjoy the bury your gays ending. And I’m not even usually against this in principle! I think in a dark/horror context, where there’s implied to be an ever-present threat of character death, it’s unreasonable to expect that no characters will die or experience tragedy - and in cases where there’s abundant LGBT rep some of those characters will by necessity not be cis/straight. So I don’t have a problem with gay characters meeting tragic or dark ends, as a general rule, particularly when it serves a narrative purpose and isn’t gratuitous. My problem here was in the manner and necessity of that death.

There were ways in which Dani could have died in this story that I would have felt were narratively meaningful and cathartic, but the manner in which she did die failed to hit those beats for me. This is a story in which two women in the 80's fall in love and are doomed by the world around them (we're already in Meryl Streep 'groundbreaking' territory here, in terms of metaphor). They know death is coming for them, that it will likely destroy them both, that they won't have an opportunity to grow old together, that eventually one day it will catch them and everything will be over - they're on borrowed time, and they spend a lot of that time looking over their shoulders waiting for shit to break bad. In the end, they're destroyed by a force in Dani's body/mind that she can't fight, that she can't win against, and the spectre of which haunts her through the years. Like... the obvious parallel here is mental health, and suicide - they even go out of their way to feature that classic heartsink moment with the overflowing bath. And to me, any story that has a message of 'no matter how strong you are, no matter how much love you have and give, or how beautiful the life you've built is, eventually the dark forces in your mind will Get You and it'll probably be before you make it to middle age' is... really shitty. The other echo that struck me was the HIV/AIDS crisis - obviously wlw were relatively spared from this, in comparison to mlm, but it still carries a cultural legacy of pain and trauma, and I really didn't need this show to grind down on that for me.

And the thing is... in the original story, the governess doesn't even die! Miles does, so maybe there's an argument here that Dani sacrificed herself in exchange for Miles's life in this retelling, but I'm still struck by this element of, like... they added this in! They chose to do this! Only one character dies in the course of this show (with Mrs Grose dying before the show starts) and it's the gay woman?? Why?? What did it show?? Why was it necessary?

Not to mention, the 'epilogue' scene paints Jamie as being very lonely and isolated. I'm not sure why the children didn't recognise ANY elements of this story from their past - even assuming they forgot the ghostly elements of their childhood, they should be able to see the similarities in the characters, but the scene also seems to imply that Jamie really isn't very close to Miles and Flora, and that she doesn't even really get to have a relationship with them as adults, in spite of losing everything to protect them, and not having any family of her own.

Almost everybody else gets a happy ending, but Jamie ends the night of the epilogue standing alone at a table, with the love of her life dead in a cursed lake, doomed to spend eternity watching over a crumbling house, and idk to me? that kind of sucked.

#the haunting of bly manor #bly manor #the haunting of hill house #hill house #bury your gays #spoilers #long post

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rossa-motte · 4 years ago

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nada ni nadie/nothing and nobody, short story update.

Well, hello ladies, gentlemen, and spirits. Today I want to talk about my second complete short story in a long time, that is, in fact, a rewrite of one of my older ones. I don't have a lot to say... luckily, because I write a lot for Tumblr.

State: complete! (for now?)

Wordcount: 1283 (short-short fiction or flash fiction??)

Genre/category: I don’t know??? psychological horror?, surrealism?, dark fantasy?, experimental??, I? don’t? know? what? I? wrote???

Narrator: first person referal

Summary: a person in some place and some time has a problem. Nothing can help the person, so they go to someone, maybe a witch, for help.

Characters:

Person: we know nothing. It’s just a person, could be anyone. Maybe you.

Witch: we don’t know much, but she’s an asshole.

Playlist: not much, just creepy music from YT.

Song for planning: just my regular playlist.

#NotTheBestSoundtrack

Years ago, when I started writing short stories, I wrote this story. The concept was the same, the only difference really is a detail in the end and the narrator.

It was pretty different from the rest (the "YA Black Mirror" I wrote at that time), and it felt very adult for some reason, like more "mature". So much in fact that my father loved it and thought about it for a while, and I'm mean a really long time. He felt so deeply the theme of this story... funny enough, to me, it wasn't that big.

I don't even remember why I wrote it, except for a pun/play of the words "nada" and "nadie".

I think I decided to rewrite it because of my dad. I mean I like the story but if it weren't for him, I might have forgotten it.

My first change was the structure: at that time I knew shit about it. The original version is one of those short stories that is exposition, exposition, exposition, climax???

So I worked on making everything more cohesive, more unified, and making the climax feel more like a climax, not like an "exposit- oh wait the story ends here!"

But it was more challenging to change the narrator. It wasn't hard, especially because the story is pretty simple. In the original version, I was really proud of the POV: it felt like we had four characters. The MC, the witch, the reader, and the narrator. It was like the narrator was a friend of yours, the reader, telling some spicy gossip that they weren't able to explain in detail. The story started with something on the lines of "the protagonist of this story doesn't want to share their identity, not even their age or gender", and everything was vague as that. It was interesting, but the tone wasn't right.

Now the narrator is the witch, talking evilly to the MC, the person. And this person, still really vague, can be some person we (as readers) don't know, or someone we know, or maybe ourselves. To keep everything super vague I even deleted all the dialogue of the person and just told it, as the witch paraphrasing it.

the witch has a strong voice, and I don't know how much is me respecting that or being a bad writer. It didn't felt correct to "clean up" a lot of the prose, so I just left it like that

I like stories where we know about the characters and place, where we feel like there's a bigger story to be told, and this one isn't like that. In that sense, isn't my favorite... but I think a lot of people will like it

also, I like longer short stories. Being flash fiction/close to it, the structure couldn't be as "traditional" as I like. Good for a change, I guess

it's experimental for me, and that's fun

being more mature and having lived some hard stuff now I connect better with the story, feel the theme more strongly

as I didn't change much, I just did a quick draft and edited it. It felt very relaxing

even if I just said flash fiction it's not my favorite, writing something short is interesting, maybe I'll try again later... in a not-so-experimental way. Also, finishing it so fast made me feel #productive

I loved writing as the witch being a total asshole

#short story #writing update #wip #wips #writing wip #writing #my writing #fiction writing #writeblr #flash fiction #flash fic #short stories #spanish #dark fantasy #psychological horror #surrealism

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #337

“if i showed you my soul, would you cover your eyes?”

What's your favorite brand of chips? I like Lays best. Are you a good painter? My Painting teacher when I was in college last said I did wonderfully, but I definitely beg to differ. Before buying a car, do you usually test drive it? N/A Have you ever written a poem and then read it aloud? No, but a teacher has. It was so fucking awkward; it was very pacifist, the topic being about war, and it had some depressing tones of death; there was just silence at the end of it, and I still don't know if it was shock or "what the fuck, she's messed up." There was this one guy that went, "Nobody is going to clap at that?", though, which I thought was pretty nice and reassuring. Do you like pineapple? Yeah, I do. Have you ever met your favorite author? I don't have a favorite author. Have you and your best friend ever liked the same person? No. Do you have any freckles? Not on my face (though oddly enough, I did as a kid?), but on random parts of my body. How many different languages can you say goodbye in? English, German, and then Spanish. Do you like or hate the smell of fish? I hate it. Have you ever been to Sea World? As a child, yes. I'd never go as an adult. Do you know someone who suffers from short-term memory loss? I don't know how this is actually diagnosed, but my memory is absolutely fucking nightmarish, almost exclusively in short-term situations. I can remember the most obscure events from my childhood, but not what I said to you five seconds prior. I'm rather sure my medications have made it worse over time. Have you ever read any of John Green's books? I got like, one chapter or less into The Fault in Our Stars before the book got replaced with the Wings of Fire series, so I never finished it. Are you a protective person? I'm an immensely protective person over those that matter to me. Have you ever experienced an earthquake? No, thankfully. I'm terrified of earthquakes. What's one thing that makes everything in life worthwhile? The fact that to our proven knowledge, this is the only one we'll ever experience. What type of waffles do you like? (Plain, blueberry etc..) I prefer plain, but I can eat chocolate chip ones as well as blueberry and strawberry. Have you ever seen the show Wife Swap? Yeah, I actually quite like it. Do you like chicken or beef better? Or do you not eat meat? Chicken, I think. I eat meat, but wish I didn't. What brand of dish soap do you use? Dawn, usually. Do any of your neighbors have dogs? Yes, and they never shut up. Do you believe in fortune tellers? They're money-driver bullshitters. Have you ever been to one? No, and judging by the fervor in the above question, I hope you can tell I never would do so and thus monetarily support them. Do you like regular or chocolate milk better? Chocolate, of course. But I love normal milk, too. Once again, wish I didn't, though. Forcing a cow to constantly reproduce to lactate is pretty fucking cruel. Growing up, did you listen to country music? I actually did. Do you normally wash your hands in warm or cold water? If it's just a quick wash, it's usually cold because our water takes quite a few moments to warm up. However, if I'm looking to thoroughly wash my hands, it's gotta be relatively hot. Do you believe in mediums? I see them in a worse light than I do fortune tellers, so... Like sure, manipulate grieving people for profit, sounds great. Have you ever been to one? Obviously not. Have you ever dated someone on the football team? No. Do you have a gazebo at your house? No. Do you like tomatoes? Solely when straight from a garden and on a bacon and mayonnaise sandwich. Otherwise I am noooot a fan. Are you a competitive person? Not very, but there's a tiny spark in me, really when it just comes to photography. I hate it. Google or Bing? Does literally anyone use Bing? What's your favorite brand of bottled water? Essentia. Do you have any ceramic animals in your house or outside? Ummm I don't think so. Have you ever given someone flowers? Yes. What is something you might eat with a hamburger? Fries or mac and cheese. What is a sport that you’ve always wanted to play, but never got a chance to. None. What is a fruit that you might eat in the morning? A banana. Who might you send a selfie to? I don't send selfies to anyone. About how many pages is the longest book you’ve ever read? I THINK it surpassed 1,000? At least in the high hundreds. Who would you call first after getting engaged to tell them the news? Probably Mom. Around what time do you start feeling tired enough to go to sleep? Truth be told, it's usually arouund 7-8. I rarely make it to 9:00 nowadays. What trends do you refuse to give in to? I don't even know what's trendy right now. What subjects in history interest you most? As dark as it is, I find the Holocaust interesting to learn about. Are you superstitious in any way? No. How do you get rid of anxiety? What a relevant question, being in a partial hospitalization program right now. Coping skills that help me are doing deep breathing, mindfulness exercises, and a little jerk back to reality is splashing freezing cold water on my face. It also helps to talk it out with somebody, just get my feelings into words. Then if it's a true anxiety or panic attack, I have my "emergency" anxiety prescription. Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? My lip and tragus piercings never do, and I always wear two rings. Do you find yourself correcting people’s grammar often? Not really, no. It just seems rude and snobby to me, honestly, if it's not in an educational setting, like helping someone with an essay. Correcting someone in your average conversation is just... unnecessary, imo. Now if you're talking like in surveys and stuff, I definitely do in questions and such, but I don't point it out. Gummi worms: Yay or nay? Yay, love 'em. What do you do when you have ‘me time’? I only ever have "me" time, so what I always do... Do you lack common sense sometimes? I have a horrible lack of common sense, shit's embarrassing. Have you ever poured glue on your hand just to peel it off for fun? No. How do babies make you feel? "Nervous. They’re so damn breakable." <<<< Mood. Would you/Have you milked a cow? No, and I'm not interested. What really gives you the creeps? #!: seeing a baby move inside its mother's stomach. It will actually make me scream and/or cry because it just grosses me the fuck out. Whale sharks' mouths also creep me out big time. Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold? Yeah, I love cold pizza. When you're wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get? We normally have cashew bars that I like if I'm really hungry. Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Obviously Pikachu. My niece loves Pikachu anyway, so she'd be ecstatic to see a real one. Or well, maybe I'd go for an Eevee. Not as dangerous with electricity and all but just as cute and small. Do you like marshmallows? Yeah. If you had the opportunity to live forever, would you take it? No. It would ruin so many factors of the temporary nature of life. Things would lose meaning, get old and boring, it'd be much easier to take advantage of things... There are many reasons why I have no desire to live forever. Hell, I even wonder if I want an afterlife for those same reasons. Did you ever really believe in Santa Claus? As a little kid, yeah. Do you like quesadillas? I like cheese, chicken, and shrimp ones. What's the greatest/most influential song you've ever heard? Ozzy's "Life Won't Wait." Do you prefer to pull off band-aids slowly or quickly? I tend to do it slowly. What was the last thing someone told you that had you at a loss for words? Uhhh I feel like Sara said something, but I don't remember what. What was the last health scare you had? Ugh... I'm kind of living in one now. As my legs have been worsening, I'm becoming increasingly concerned I'm eventually going to need a wheelchair for "walking" longer distances. And mind you, "long" for me is probably short for the average person. My knees do nothing but crack incessantly and burn when I use them, and they frequently feel like they're going to give way, and in a few rare instances, have. It's my own fucking fault for not sucking it up and exercising with my mom in the room, so I'd like to move on. What is your favorite filling for a piece of chocolate? Caramel. Do you enjoy the sound of birds chirping? I do. If applicable, what’s your favorite drug, and why? I don't do drugs, so. What was the last TV show you binge-watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender with Sara. Would you rather eat burgers or tacos? Definitely burgers. I don't like tacos. Did your mother change her maiden name when/if she got marred? Yes. What was the last job you applied for? Did you get the job? Deli worker, and yes. Do you use TikTok? No. What decorations do you have in your bathroom? None. Our bathroom is pretty small. Well, the one we use, anyway. The one attached to the master's bedroom isn't cleaned up yet, but we'll use it in case of emergency. What year was your favourite band formed? (Before people think I'm smart, no, I looked the dates up, haha.) Well Ozzy was Black Sabbath's vocalist, and the band formed in 1968, but Ozzy became a solo artist in 1979. What's your favourite fruit? Strawberries. Have you ever had an out-of-body experience? No. Do you prefer gory horror films or the psychological ones? I prefer psychological. Are you easily paranoid? Yeah. Do you have a favorite obsession? Meerkats and Mark are kinda tied, haha. Are you a workaholic? No. Have you ever given a tattoo before and would you like to? No and no; that would be an awful idea, given I have bad tremors in my hands. Have you ever seen the movie Labyrinth? I actually have not. Would you rather be called pretty or hot? Pretty. Have you ever gotten a serious injury at school? What happened? No. Have you ever performed in front of my large group of people? Yes; I was a dancer for many years. Have you ever fundraised? If so, what for? You know how Facebook recommends making fundraisers for a charity of your choice for your birthday? I've done that for the Trevor Project and two charities for ovarian and pancreatic cancers. Are you wearing earrings right now? Ugh, no, even though I want to be. The first holes in my ears are just too stretched for normal earrings because I wore heavy ones too often, and I just don't have nice earrings. I still want to get very small gauges to put in the stretched holes. Name a singer whose voice makes you swoon? Fall Out Boy's Patrick Stump can do that, holy shit. "America's Suitehearts" does it for me, man. Y'know, when his voice goes all deep. Do your pets follow you when you walk around the house? My cat Roman is quite literally my shadow. Where I go, he goes. What do you do online? I seem to only exist online, really, so I've got a lot on my plate to choose from, yet I'm still bored half the time, haha. I'm essentially always watching or listening to YouTube, I play World of Warcraft for varying amounts of time depending on the day, I scroll through deviantART, check KM periodically, do surveys obviously, "work" at the wikis I contribute to, wander around on Facebook... idk, that's all I really do at least semi-regularly online. Haha oh, wait, I also check Craigslist like... every day for tarantula and hognoses even though I can't currently get either. Let me dream. Do you have any scars on your face? I have a couple on my chin from when I fainted and busted it open. What countries were your grandparents born in? In the US. What was the most damaging relationship (romantic or not) that you’ve ever been a part of? Ultimately, with Jason, because of how it ended. The relationship itself wasn't at all damaging to me, but the breakup shook my entire fucking world. When in your life was your self-esteem at its lowest point? Self-esteem? Now. I'm very unhappy with my weight going back up, my body is just in poor health in general, I'm not employed, not in school... I just feel like a lowlife. Who was the last person you cut out of your life? Do you regret it? I want to say my sister's mother-in-law. Sure don't, considering she revealed her disgusting support for conversion therapy. I'm civil around her in person, but I kicked that woman off my Facebook so fucking quick when I saw that shit. Who is the most attractive person you know personally? That I know personally... I would say Alon, but I haven't seen even a picture of her in forever. Summer, though, shares selfies frequently, and by god is she gorgeous. I know a lot a lot of beautiful women, asldkjf;awe. It's funny that I'm blanking on men, at least involving people I still "know"/are somehow present in my life. Would you rather look older or younger than you are? I'm fine looking my age. Have you ever dated someone who was very vastly different from your “type”? No. What is the biggest project you’re currently working on? I suppose you can count an RP plot as a "project." I'm procrastinating so bad on it because it is going to be A LOT of writing. Is there a person from your past that you wonder about frequently? Who? Take a shot in the dark for me. Who knows you best, excluding romantic partners? My mother. What are your thoughts on human creation? I believe we evolved. How many people have you had sex with? One. Have you ever had a yard sale? Yeah. Have you ever been surfing? No.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''voices'' by motionless in white

4 notes · View notes

angelaiswriting · 5 years ago

Text

Children (4 of 4) | Michael Gray

[Photo by Pixabay from Pexels]

✏️ Pairing: Michael Gray x wife!reader

✏️ Summary: Michael is back from the war, but is he really? Life is still difficult and the Gray family is falling apart under Y/N’s helpless gaze. (Requested by @duckydae)

✏️ A/N: wow, I reached a new level of angst. @kind-wolf will not be happy haha

✏️ A/N 2: also, another note, just as a sort of background info. The whole America thing (and obviously Gina) didn’t happen, everything’s peachy between Michael and Tommy (and the rest of the squad fam). :)

✏️ Warnings: angst and a slight hint of smut and ‘mature’ themes (sort of PTSD talking, drugs use, depressive moments ?), so for safety measures, 18+ only! I hate it when you guys are minors and cheat me, don’t think I’m stupid.

✏️ Word-count: 5,613

<< part one: children << | << part two: anna and john << | << part three: a bigger table << | PART FOUR: WARHORSE

There has never been this much silence in the Grays’ house―six years have done plenty to change the precious status quo of things. Even the children are afraid to step on those floorboards that creak a little louder than the rest.

“The children”―they have stopped being children a long time ago, when their Daddy had to leave for the continent, Y/N reasons. They’ve grown up quicker than she did when her time had come, when the war had come crashing against the shores like a tide and had brought her father away in its muddy waves.

John and Anna are now adults―probably too young to be such―definitely too young―but it doesn’t matter, not in 1946. John is eighteen, Anna just two years younger, and while Y/N always sees them as her babies, she knows that what she’s looking at is the result of something she never thought would come again.

Even the twins don’t feel like the fourteen-year-olds they’re supposed to be. Rebellious, headstrong, Henry and Paul get in more trouble than she can count and there’s nothing she can do to help. Nothing she can do to stop that barbaric destruction her children are going through.

Michael doesn’t help. Michael can’t help―he can’t even help himself. He sits in their bedroom with the curtains drawn and the lights switched on―he’s afraid of the outer world, but he is even more of the darkness. And of what the darkness carries in its hands when it clouds his vision and the ratatat of the artillery fills not only his ears, but his veins as well.

Bill can’t help his Daddy. Bill, with his angelic face and curly hair, with that omnipresent smile on his face and that silence that always accompanies him around. Bill, from the hill of his ten years of age, can’t help his Daddy, can’t bring him back to the Brummie countryside where everything is as quiet as he is.

He’s hated―Y/N knows it and refuses to acknowledge it at the same time. His father can’t bear his company, can’t bear his presence. And it’s not because he’s mute, but because his silence fills his father’s void with screaming creatures and living horrors he just wants to forget, to delete from his memory, a burning rod scraping and digging into the grey matter of his brain.

He’s mute, too, Michael, but for a completely different reason. His lips are sealed during the day and while he’s started to finally eat again, his tongue doesn’t move, his lips don’t give shape to any kind of words.

There are screams during the night, though―blood-curdling screams that give her nightmares in the waking hours of her days―that make her skin crawl as she turns on her left side to face her husband. The screams are worse than the bombings, worse than the shrilling yells of the air-raid sirens that sometimes still thrum in her lungs and in her stomach.

But tonight is different. Tonight Michael doesn’t scream―and that’s because he doesn’t sleep. He can’t sleep, can’t bring himself to close his eyes, to see the walking skeletons that still plague his every breath with the same violence of the silence in this house. He lies there, on top of crumpled sheets, butt-naked, staring at a ceiling that’s giving him visions. He sees waves in the stucco decorations watching his every move from above, and he hears voices, whispered voices that ring like a mixture between Russian and German to his frustrated ear.

The need to scream is there, tickling the base of his throat with those chilling cold fingers that scrape at the sides of his brain every day. But there’s no sound leaving his lips.

He thinks of snow. It’s the first time in forever and the need is so strong that it’s making his mind spin, his vision blur, the muscles in his thighs cramp. He thinks that if only he manages to find some―he’s sure John uses some every once in a while―then everything will be alright. For a few hours, that is. His wife doesn’t need to know, doesn’t need to hear a thing. All he has to do is get up from that bed of thorns, walk down the corridor and into his first son’s room, and look for that God-damned magic white powder that will make him leave his body for a few, precious hours.

But when he sits up, a man possessed by his need for cocaine, the bedsheets whisper under his ass, the mattress moans and holding his breath is of no use because his wife is already turning in his direction. She didn’t fall asleep in the first place―she just can’t if he doesn’t fall asleep first, these days.

Hate bubbles up in his mouth like vomit―and it’s so sudden and unexpected that it would make him shiver if only war didn’t skin him alive. And it’s hate that makes him seethe that Go back to sleep through gritted teeth.

“Where are you going?” Her voice scrapes his eardrums, removes layer after layer of membrane from his brain. Even the faint sound of her breathing makes the nerves under his skin come to life, tense and creak like a branch ready to break and fall to the ground.

“Go back to sleep, Y/N.” It’s the most he’s said in the five months he’s been back home and he all but hates the sound of his voice. It’s foreign to his own ears, and it’s strained, paper-thin, dry like fallen leaves on a winter day.

He wants to tear his throat out with his own bare hands.

She doesn’t answer and he feels the mortal combat going on in her soul, feels it in the air like the static electricity before the storm comes. But the storm never comes. And despite his raging need for some drug-induced happiness, he sits and waits like a man staring out at the never-ending expanse of the sea.

His mouth is dry, his tongue a dead weight pressing against the back of his teeth. It weighs him down, loads his muscles with lead and cement and ashes. So many ashes that he can smell his own flesh burn and combust, baring his bones for the world to see.

“Come sleep with me.” It’s a whisper and the sound of his wife’s voice is worse than the furious march of tanks.

He’s repulsed by his wife―and repulsed by the fact that he’s repulsed by his wife.

There’s a mist of constant anger following Anna and her mother can’t read its reasons behind it. She wants her father back―she needs her father back now that she ended up pregnant with the child of a veteran more dead than the dead.

She’s only sixteen and she’s having a baby she doesn’t want with a man that doesn’t see her through the curtain of what he’s already seen.

‘46 is the year Love died, or so it feels as Y/N cries bitter tears in the desolate solitude of the kitchen. It’s like war didn’t end, like it brought back a monster that still has to exhale its last breath.

Sometimes she thinks she sees it. In the vacuous look in her husband’s eyes. In John’s stubborn studies. In the mess the twins give birth to every single day without cease. Even in William’s eerie silence, and she’s glad he’s off to school, now, she’s glad the week has finally started again and has brought him away for a few days.

There is no escaping what the monster does to people. Anna could get rid of the baby if she weren’t that scared, but she can’t get rid of her husband. Can’t kill off the only man she’s ever loved and that has always treated her like a queen, worshipping her like one worships God in a temple.

“Why doesn’t he say anything?” Rage burns her only daughter’s voice as she stomps into the kitchen, purposefully loud as if she’s trying to catch her father’s attention, to rile a reaction out of him the way warm water and baking soda help you vomit. “Why doesn’t he say anything?!” Voice louder, tears are burning hotter than her anger on her cheeks and there’s no stopping the furious movement of her hand, which reaches up to wipe them away.

“Anna-”

“NO!” It booms and echoes in the cramped space of the kitchen of that countryside house. It rattles against the dishes in the cupboard, scratches the wood on the walls, hits the thick panels of the windows as it scorches the girl’s throat, threatening to punch out her teeth. “Don’t do this, don’t treat me as though I don’t understand shit!”

They cry―it’s unwanted and almost humiliating, for everybody’s trying to ignore the elephant in the room, but they still do cry together, clutching at each other like they both were unyielding rocks under the onslaught of the sea. They cry and they do so in vain, for Anna’s still pregnant and Y/N’s still hated. Those tears don’t change the new reality of things and while the hiccups disrupt the otherwise gravel silence of the house, nothing happens.

Nothing can happen.

Probably nothing ever will.

“I need him and he’s a fucking ghost.”

When they look back at it in a few hours, neither will be able to say with complete certainty who pronounced those words, for they belong in both of their mouths. Y/N craves love, Anna - a father, and neither can have any.

John is high. He’s so high it’s a miracle he’s not floating mid-air and while his mother knows how good snow can feel, she still cries bloody tears when she sees her son like that.

John, ahead of his peers and studying psychology to help build a better world from the inside, is just as shattered as everybody else. He lies on the grass, under the shadow of an oak and the blue sky of a late-May afternoon.

And for a blind moment, Y/N thinks she’s lost him to the family’s very own sin. And she almost pukes right then and there, turned away as she is towards the flowerbeds she’s spent so much time tending to―it doesn’t matter that the house is surrounded by flowers planted in the hopes of forgetting, for nobody seems to be able to see them anyway.

But then he smiles, and he calls her over, and for a second she can see a glimpse of how Michael used to look like. The boy lost John Shelby’s looks and resemblance right before turning ten and has since then started down a path that was bound to make him stand out like his father’s very copy. Beautiful and strong and just as passionate about life and horses as one could be.

Life and horses and Tokyo.

“You are so beautiful, Mum,” he says, knocking the air out of her lungs as she stands there, frozen in time and space as she stares down at him. “You shouldn’t cry so much. Red eyes don’t look good on you.”

For a weird, unknown reason she bursts out laughing. She doesn’t know when the last time she laughed was, and John doesn’t recall it either.

It feels good, liberating, even. She didn’t think she still had it in herself to produce such sound, to let go in a burst of unexpected laughter induced by a second-hand high. But it’s good and for a moment, it makes her forget better than gardening has ever done.

“Where did you find it?” The words are out before she can stop them―she doesn’t want to know. She doesn’t want to know who gave her precious son a pinch of that artificial happiness that’s still staining his nostrils.

John looks happier than he’s ever looked in the last six years and a half. He looks like himself once again and she’s terrified to the bone by this thought―by this realisation―by the fact that there’s still a glimpse of the real him just because he’s managed to find the Devil’s powder somewhere she can’t even name.

“Charlie,” he answers with a chuckle almost as if to ask her Who else do you think has coke to spare, uh, Mum? The name also rings like an accusation, acid and scorching like an unwanted truth―It’s always been in the family and always will be. We’ll turn into snow when we die. And then we go straight to hell. “It’s good shit.” His dreamy eyes are more terrifying than the appalling screams tearing her husband’s body apart from the inside. “Have some with me.”

She doesn’t. The need to is strong, buzzing with a life of its own in her very veins with the same intensity it burned in Michael’s just a month before, the night he ordered her to go back to sleep before walking out naked of their shared room.

“Isn’t this the best feeling in the world?” Johnny asks and she lies―Yes. Yes, it is.

But she’s crying. She’s crying silent tears that stream down her ashy face like rivers. Their saltiness tastes like blood between her parted lips and she’s sure that they’re staining her teeth red, turning her mouth into that of a monster.

That’s the first time she thinks her family is dying, slowly falling apart between her numb, useless fingers, under her heart as heavy as a tombstone. It wrecks her from the inside out, a little more with each minute she passes staring into her son’s blissed-out eyes.

Yes, it’s the best feeling in the world, she cries, holding him between trembling arms as she feels old and decomposed inside.

Tommy’s visit is unexpected that night. And for a moment, his possessed face is all Y/N can see as she does her best not to recoil in front of that ghost as she keeps the entrance door open.

“Can I come in?”

His voice rings foreign to her ears, paper rustling in the wind, aged by years spent smoking―and then screaming. His whole face appears alien, a haunting vision out of a blood-freezing nightmare.

She doesn’t answer, but she does step back―enough to let him see the bare hall but not enough to let him pass. And it’s not because she doesn’t want him in her house, but because she can’t move, rooted as she is to the stone floor she scrubs every morning, from four to six, just to keep her own mind distracted after the restless night she’s had.

Henry and Paul follow the man with their heads hanging low and they, too, look like a spectral vision. Bloodied faces, crumpled clothes. Two fourteen-year-olds suddenly aged into old men.

She’s on the verge of fainting.

She’s weak and trembling inside, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets and she doesn’t even know why. Doesn’t know why the world is spinning and her throat constricting, vomit threatening to make an appearance after the tasteless dinner she’s still recovering from.

Yes, it’s the best feeling in the world. She now wishes she had kept her son’s cocaine because she could so use a snort right about now.

If nothing, it’s a blessing that Michael is in bed already―that he hasn’t moved from the mattress the whole day. A lack of reaction on his part is what would make or break her―break her most likely.

“Where is Michael?”

She doesn’t answer. Her tongue is knotted and her mouth is stuffed―with what, she doesn’t know, but it has the strangely familiar taste of nightmares. Her hand is still on the door handle: if she lets go, she’s going to fall. She’s going to fall knees first to the floor and there’s nobody there willing to pick her up―not her sons, not her husband’s cousin.

He’s seen too much already―Tommy. He’s marched through two wars and the extra years he’s been granted in France after the Great War have been wasted away between France and Germany now, possibly even Italy―she doesn’t know for sure―doesn’t want to know for sure.

Y/N wants to speak but can’t. Wants to ask her children what’s wrong with them and why do you want to break your mother’s heart? You stop being you the moment you give birth to your children, or so she’s always thought. Life starts again with a new Day One and all that came before that was extra. But now motherhood feels like lead shoes, pulling her down to the bottom of the ocean as her lungs fight against the salty water, fight for oxygen, fight for-

She doesn’t know, not anymore.

“They’ve been going at it again,” Tommy says, looking around and taking in the bare walls of a once well-decorated house. There had once been wind chimes hanging from the ceiling on the middle of the hall, but they’re not there anymore. And Tommy knows why. “Paul more than Henry.”

He says this almost as though Y/N knows what he’s talking about. The truth is, she doesn’t. And as soon as he’s going to leave, the twins are going to go upstairs without even glancing in her direction. That’s how it always goes, how her heart keeps on breaking day in and day out. There’s no rest. Absolutely no rest from that kind of torture.

“I’ll keep an eye on them, but…” He trails off, averts his eyes from hers almost as though the sight of her has burned him. He breathes in deeply and for a moment he keeps the air there, somewhere in-between his nose and his brain, afraid he’s going to smell blood or gunpowder or the acrid stink of war. “You keep one on them, too.”

The best feeling in the world―she’s not even sure she remembers what such a thing is. Nor if it even existed and she was there to witness.

She nods, and it’s all she can do.

“Keep them home for a week. The waters need to calm down.” These words make her gag, but she’s quick at swallowing it, at looking away―from the devil and from her sons. Then, Tommy reaches the door again, takes her hand off the handle. It’s not a gentle touch―he pries her fingers off the brass knob and that’s it. Dead fingers touching dying fingers―it doesn’t matter that her nails are painted a calm shade of pink, pale cyclamen on a spring morning. “Two is better.”

He leaves without turning back, without telling her it’s all going to be okay, that he’s there for her and her family, that he’ll come back, sooner or later. There’s no solace for her soul, sick and tired and on the brink of the abyss, staring up at her with its raping, hungry eyes. There are no words for wives like her, for women like her, left behind even when the husbands are back, breathing.

The best feeling-

She’s sobbing before she has the chance to feel the sob, to feel the tears sting her desensitised eyes. And she’s clutching a hand over her mouth because she can’t make a noise, can’t make a noise, can’t make a noise. Not in this house, not in this world.

“Mum?”

She wants to scream at them, wants to kick them out―out of the house, but not out of her life, she couldn’t take it, couldn’t-

“Mum?”

There’s a hand on her shoulder and the contact makes her jolt―almost jump out of her fucking skin.

They can’t see her like that.

And at the same time, part of her wants them to see. Wants them to know they’re not the only ones suffering.

Greedy bastards.

And she’s scared of that sudden, intrusive thought in the desolated land her mind has become.

“We’re sorry, mum.”

And when they hug her, Henry from one side and Paul from the other, she cries even harder because she’d do anything in her power to give her children a better alternative ending, but she can’t. She doesn’t have the power, doesn’t have the strength.

“So sorry.”

The best feeling in the world is that of the memories long forgotten in the deepest part of her mind, inside that red room she’s had to securely lock back in ‘39. A sunny September day it had been, still tasting like August and summer and the lovemaking sessions under a starry sky her husband had gifted her.

This is…

This is not…

“We’ll be better.”

And she cries because she knows the promise is sincere―fate just isn’t. Fate is against them, a growing tide ready to kidnap anything and anyone on the shore, staring up at an unforgiving moon.

It will last for a day, maybe a week, but soon enough she’ll have to witness her twins’ return home bloodied and battered, and she’ll have to live this moment again.

And again.

And then once more.

And one day Tommy will come home to tell her that her boys have died, that someone has stabbed them both to death and Quick! and Come! Before they bleed out in the middle of the street!

Her worries leave her mouth without her knowing she’s spilling them, bullets of a machine gun travelling a thousand miles a minute, hitting flesh and bone and brick. And soul.

They let her cry until there are no tears left, until she can barely stand on her feet, her right hand back wrapping around the door handle.

The best feeling in the world is a cocaine-induced orgasm, but she doesn’t tell them.

Bill is home from school. One more week and she’ll have to endure his presence for the whole summer. She’s terribly aware of how wretched a mother she sounds like, but she thinks this for his own good.

She doesn’t want him at home, at home where everything hurts and the silence eats him alive. Eats them all alive. She wants him away, in some far-away boarding school, someplace where nobody has ever heard of war or grief or silence and every day is a blessing.

Where is Dad? he wants to know with a smile on his face.

He’s a kid―he’s still her baby, the one she held in her loving arms back in ‘35, when shit still had to pop. She’s loved him then and she loves him now, but she’s a liar.

Y/N is a mother and a liar.

“Sleeping,” she answers, stretching a terrifying smile across her lips.

She’s making apple pie―the family’s all-time favourite―and Billy is helping her, pouring cinnamon on freshly cut apple slices with those tiny-but-growing hands of his.

Do you think he’ll enjoy his birthday present?

Oh, honey, I’m not even sure Daddy knows what day it is today, she wants to say but keeps quiet. “He’ll love it, baby.”

William always blushes when she calls him ‘baby’―I’m not a baby anymore, Mummy. And she smiles because he still calls her ‘Mummy’ when the rest of her kids have stopped calling her that before they turned ten. He’s her precious ray of sunshine on a stormy day, somehow managing to pierce the thick layer of clouds covering all sources of light.

But he doesn’t complain today. William is mute, not deaf, and he knows his Mummy cried herself to sleep in the living room last night. It’s his favourite, he signs, fingers wet and sprinkled with cinnamon.

And she hums and for a moment she feels like singing as she’s always done in the past. But she doesn’t, she can’t feel the music inside herself, can’t even conjure up the names of the notes. “We all love it,” she adds, turning back towards the dough she’s somehow correctly making. “You’ll be an amazing chef one day. Everybody will know William Gray’s name from Los Angeles to Tokyo.”

She’s glad Will doesn’t know what Tokyo can be―nor that she’s had a pinch, a few days before, and that that’s been her fuel for a whole day, keeping her up on her feet when all her knees wanted to do was give out under her weight.

It’s almost four in the afternoon when Anna joins them, baby bump barely peeking from underneath the yellow sweatshirt she hopes would help brighten up her day. Andrew hung himself the month before and the unexpected baby won’t have a father for real, now.

She’s used coke, too, a couple of times. Probably not the best choice when there’s a baby involved, but snow always helps everybody, whether it comes from the sky or some back-alley pusher.

“Hey, Billy-boy.” She ruffles William’s loose curls and everybody knows he hates it, but he still smiles at his sister from underneath beautifully long lashes.

Ten years old and he’s probably the more mature in the house. He sees right through the lie, but doesn’t make you feel guilty for lying, doesn’t kick you with the donkey-kick of a priest. Hey, Annie-girl.

She chuckles at the nickname and before she can second-think it, she kneels down and kisses his fingers one by one and then the tip of his nose and hugs him as tight as only a big sister can do. The sight warms Y/N’s heart and for a moment she stands there, tea cloth in one hand and wet kitchen counter forgotten.

The best feeling in the world has the taste of her children hugging, not the bitter one of snow. And it’s warm and bright and breathtaking―utterly breathtaking even now, on the edge of the unknown.

“You’re a good kid,” Anna murmurs in her brother’s ear and then she gasps and freezes and it takes Y/N a while to look up from her kids to see what has shocked her daughter so much.

The world stands still for a minute as she stares at him from the other side of the kitchen. It’s a scary view, it truly is, but it tastes like the sweetest lie, even if he doesn’t say anything, even if it looks like he barely registers his wife or two of his children’s presence in the room.

And then, the spell snaps and it breaks and all Y/N can see is the revolver in his left hand.

The children are out before they have the chance to complain, to tell her that they’d rather stay, that I’ve heard of shit happening, Mum, and I don’t want to bury you in that sweet and worried voice of her daughter that will plague her forever if things go wrong.

“Baby.”

She hasn’t called him ‘baby’ in forever and the word has a weird weight on the tip of her tongue right before it jumps out. The tea cloth is on the floor, forgotten, and she takes slow steps in her husband’s direction, bare feet against bare stone as she tries to ground herself in the moment, to not let her mind wander off. This is not a rabid dog she can shoot in the back of the head, this is her husband, her best friend, the love of her life.

“Baby.”

He’s breathing hard and fast, and when she’s close enough to touch him, she can feel his warmth―his heat. There’s no need to touch him to know he’s feverish, no need to read more in the goosebumps dotting his skin than the temperature rising higher in his body.

“People were here to hurt you.” It feels like each and every word he speaks pains him as his chest rises and falls and the air comes out scorching hot from his flaring nostrils. “Hurt you.” He cradles the side of her face with his right hand and the gun in the other presses its side against her cheek. There’s no menace in the action, just a husband holding his wife’s face and forgetting about the weapon he’s still clutching on to. “Hurt you.”

He doesn’t see her―his gaze is vacuous and distant―and it’s almost as though he can’t feel her, for the pads of his fingers press harder into the soft flesh of her cheeks.

There are tears on his face and those are the first thing John sees when he rushes into the kitchen from the door that gives on the back yard and the fields beyond, where Anna or William probably found him right after leaving the room. And they’re what stops him in his tracks, ready as he is to lunge himself on his father and push him away from his mother.

“Killed the kids,” he’s saying―Michael―and he sounds pained, more pained than he does at night when the horrors behind his closed eyelids wake him up. “Wanted to rape you.”

Anna is late at covering William’s ears, at shielding him from words whose meaning he doesn’t know, not yet. Snow and rape are still terms in the vocabulary he hasn’t reached yet―and hopefully he never will.

“They wanted to hurt you.”

It’s a blessing that John has managed to hide all the bullets he found in the house and that his father’s gun is not loaded. If it comes down to violence, he knows it won’t end with a bleeding hole in his mother’s chest.

“Dad?”

Michael moves almost as though he’s standing in the fog, fog so thick that both sound and light get distorted into nightmarish visions and sounds.

“Come outside, let Mum go.”

Summer ticks by painfully slowly and out here, in the country, the nights are silent. Cicadas are quieter than they ever were and it’s almost as though they know they shouldn’t disturb the warhorse.

Not even when he’s awake.

It’s a foreign feeling, that of being touched by her husband once again, of having him pumping inside her as he keeps himself propped up on his elbows, his hands cradling her face, his eyes focused on a spot right above her head, on the pillow.

It’s not love, it’s barely the shadow of what love used to feel like between the two of them, but it’s not violence, either―Michael came back many things from the war, but not a violent man. It’s the desperate attempt of going back to normalcy, of feeling alive again even when your limbs are cold and your loins feel dry. It’s tasteless and mechanical, but not meaningless.

This is not the best feeling in the world, but it can be, one day. It can be.

It will be again, Y/N knows it, and she’s willing to wait, she’s willing to help if he allows her.

Even now, her hands are soothing on the tense muscles of his back and on the ridgy scars left behind by God knows what kind of horrors. And her lips are warm against the cold sweat layering the skin of his neck, and her words soft―honey-like in his ear as she tries to bring him back home, bring him back where he’s loved and cherished and safe.

It’s silent. Their new lovemaking sessions are silent even when he pants above her, lost in some memory of his, in some feeling of his as he thrusts into her, trying to remember what it used to feel like.

He’s not back yet, Billy said that day in the kitchen, too wise for his own age and sake. But he will be. Don’t worry, Mummy.

She doesn’t worry, not when her son’s words meant the world to her back then―not when they still mean the world to her right now.

There is still hope and this is what she thinks of when Michael lies on his back, skin flustered and sweaty and breath short and ragged, his eyes staring up at a ceiling she doesn’t know if he’s seeing or not. He’s trickling out of her, down her thigh and onto the mattress, but it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t care.

She looks at him and she thinks that there’s still hope, that one day they’ll be back in their Birmingham bedroom and he’ll take out those stupidly expensive Parisian earrings from her ears and he’ll unclasp her diamond necklace. And he’ll let it fall to the ground―as carelessly as only he can―as he worships her body with his own.

Her fingertips are butterfly wings on the skin of his abdomen―still tight and soft as ever, maybe just not as full. She traces one of his scars, circles her bellybutton, and then plays for a moment with his happy trail. She stares at it and the only thought in her mind is, Oh, how I wish you still knew what the best feeling in the world is!

He’s ticklish, he’s always been, on his abdomen, behind his knees. He’s not as much now, but his body still tenses under her touch, an involuntary reaction she’s quite sure he’s not even aware of. She doesn’t know whether he felt her around him just a while ago, doesn’t know whether he’s heard her sweet nothings whispered like prayers in his deaf ears.

But when she looks up at him, she finds him looking down at her, brows slightly furrowed in a questioning expression, almost as if he’s wondering When did she get here?

He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t move his hands―his right one from his stomach and the other from the mattress. He doesn’t touch her but his eyes still caress the features of her face, trail down her naked body and then back up. It’s like he’s seeing her for the first time after a long absence, like he’s not just been sheathed inside her for the better part of the last two hours, trying to make himself feel something again.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she says, and her whisper floats up to him and makes his eyes sting. “However long it takes.”

What do you think of this story? Please, let me know in a comment/reblog or through the chat or ask box, it would mean the world to me to know what your reaction to this was!! 💛

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892 @mblaqgi @becs-bunker @gruffle1

Peaky Blinders: @whimsylavender @thethyri @friendleyneighbourhoodvillain @flowers-in-your-hayr @oddsnendsfanfics @medievalfangirl @inforapound @niamhmaria

People that might be interested: @kellydixon01 @sweetvengeancee @kind-wolf

#michael gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray fanfic #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #angelaiswriting #fic: children (michael gray)

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soveryanon · 4 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG172!

- I didn’t truly believe that we would encounter a Web domain so soon, since somehow I still pictured it as the very last thing standing between Jon&Martin and the Panopticon. It means that the domains that I was expecting to be the most “heavy” on the boys, the Lonely and the Web, are already behind us (we’re down to Hunt, Vast, Dark, Spiral, and Eye).

- The “thanks Alex” Fun™ Fact of the episode was that he used the sounds of spider mating calls in this one. Alex, why.

- With MAG170, this was amongst the most “empathetic” episodes of the season so far? Or at least as far as the Fears domains are concerned? It was closer to the way older statements were framed: it really felt like someone’s story, someone’s personal struggles and life, the horrible things happening to them. I’m a bit less fond of statements this season, overall, because they feel too voyeuristic (I know, that’s the point!), because it’s decontextualised people reduced to their fears and nothing more… but Francis’s story really felt heart-wrenching.

And it was an incredibly harsh episode, dealing with codifications, scripted situations, stage&audience conspiring against the “puppet” (the audience laughing at Francis’s misery), down to the audience call excluding the non-binary protagonist (“Ladies and gentlemen”), physical cruelty (the hooks, the spiders). I like how Francis’s “act” worked, both by highlighting that they had absolutely no chance of ever winning the play on their terms, since the Spider was deploying everything against them (physical restrains, pain, psychological torture and the voices of close ones for more pressure and impacts)… and yet, that we saw them still fiercely trying to reject what the Spider wanted, still able to tell that this was not what they wanted. It was also a good move that, in this one, Francis was a victim from start to finish: not pitted against others; the addiction wasn’t making them a danger for anyone else, it was first and foremost about them, what they wanted for themselves, how others’ casual cruelty was in the way and isolated them further, leaving them at the mercy of the Spider and its hooks. If there was someone “winning”, it was the Spider (managing to give birth to many others); all of this was solely for its benefit.

It seems to be part of The Web’s game to allow some resistance, to revel in internal conflicts, but it doesn’t remove the fact that Francis had been tortured for 48068 acts, and that they were still trying to reject it.

- We got a few interesting formats so far: The Stranger's poem (MAG165), The End’s Coroner’s report (MAG168), The Flesh’s botanical book (MAG171), and now The Web’s play (MAG172)… which was awful(ly clever), with the puppet/puppeteer’s dynamic.

Nothing new about The Web preying on vulnerable/isolated people, and especially people dealing with addiction, it’s been a reoccurring thing: Raymond Fielding had taken in kids that the system didn’t know how to handle (and nobody was suspecting anything when, as “legal adults”, they were disappearing); a Spider person had tried to get Trevor off her back by making old needs resurface; Annabelle’s first encounter with The Web, if she were to be believed, was through a victim who had suffered with drug addiction; there is a huge proportions of smoker characters in Web-related statements, and there is still Jon’s lighter and Jon starting to smoke again after he got it.

Same thing: nothing new about The Web having a knack for stories and the entertainment arts! We had two statements dealing with movies, Annabelle taunting Jon about having possibly lied during her own statements, Annabelle’s website searching for stories…

- WOW, did this domain come for Jon’s throat as the ~Apocalypse-bringer~

(MAG172) THE SPIDER: Oh, Francis… It’s such a shame, but I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to! The man in the audience saw to that! [CHUCKLES] I am no more free than you are, little puppet. Ah! If only you could see the strings that bind me, that wind together as they pull me along my own path…! Perhaps then, you would not blame me so. But they are not the tripping threads that we are here to watch – no. So sit, Francis. It’s time…!

That gaslighting and self-victimisation from the monster who was pulling the strings and doing a show to generate more of itself (both fears and spiders). First time one directly referred to Jon’s presence, of course it would be a Web one, uh…

- There was an awful parallel between Francis’s story, the Spider forcing the consumption on them, and Jon… for the first time, getting stuck in a loop of stories as the next act was beginning. Is Jon reacting to the domain’s logic (since this one works on the long term, the accumulation, the fact that Francis knew that their torture would keep going and happen again and again)? Was it The Web purposefully trying to trap Jon here? Was Jon more susceptible to this domain given his own experience with The Web and his relying on statements? Would Jon even have been able to leave if Martin hadn’t been there to stop it…?

(Jon had already been vulnerable to the cabin, as he discovered in MAG162: the domains and the new reality can affect him. Jon had pointed out that The Eye didn’t want Jon to stay there; it’s not surprising, but incredibly bold to see that a Web domain tried to trap Beholding’s precious little Archivist…)

- Second time that Martin had to forcefully interrupt Jon mid-statement:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: The photos on the wall of her family–”MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: “–whose faces seem indistinct but she knows–” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! ARCHIVIST: “–that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass–” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! [COUGHS] ARCHIVIST: “–pops out of the frame.” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon, she’s here! ARCHIVIST: “Her home is being eaten alive by–” MARTIN: [CLOSER] Please come back! ARCHIVIST: “–this devouring Desolation–” MARTIN: JON! ARCHIVIST: “–and she–” [RESOUNDING SLAP] [STATIC FADES] MARTIN: She’s here! [COUGHS]

(MAG172) AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LOUD CLAPS AND CHEERING] [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: “The tragedy of Francis. A comic puppet show in all acts. Act 48068.” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon? ARCHIVIST: “A stage that is a room that remains a stage.” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon, one is enough. ARCHIVIST: “The audien–” [RESOUNDING SLAP] [STATIC FADES] AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [CONSTANT MUFFLED LAUGHTERS] ARCHIVIST: Oh… Oh, wh–what? MARTIN: … Sorry. You were starting another and, I didn’t want to wait. We should get going.

And the trick definitely seems to be not being in Jon’s presence while he settles into statement-mode, or it prevents anyone from being able to interrupt? Martin wasn’t able to stop him during MAG167 (but that statement had been sneaky about its start), and he didn’t when they were in Jared’s garden either…

* Daisy listened to Jon reading two statements during season 4 (MAG133 and MAG136) and, although it was part of their deal that she would not interrupt, I wonder if she could have, back then? Jon had gotten interrupted a lot during season 1 and 2, but it was by people walking into his office while he had begun reading alone.

* … I’m still not sure that Basira could have stopped Jon in MAG141, when he forced Floyd to give his statement? Jon told her that she could have but hadn’t because she wanted to know too, but he was also, quite frankly, full of shit and trying to avoid his own responsibility with regards to his victims, back then.

* It’s interesting that Jon’s “statement bubble” is now constantly showing to muffle sounds from the exterior (/from an extra-diegetic level) when he’s giving the statement. The tape recorder only catches Martin’s voice muffled, far, as if behind another layer. But once Martin broke Jon out of it, the cheers, laughs and claps from the audience, which used to be very distinct and present, were the ones suddenly sounding far away (while Martin was on the same level as Jon). We’ve been told, again and again, that the tape recorders are not neutral, but I find quite interesting the fact that they’re “translating” the different levels around Jon in this way?

- On first listen, I had failed to understand that Martin was actually meant to stay around Jon – like in MAG171, and like he had done in MAG163 when they discovered Jon’s new need to pour out about the domains:

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: You probably want to wait outside. MARTIN: … Hum, no?! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Well… Put your fingers in your ears then, I, I suppose. […] Martin…? [DRIP] Martin? [DRIP] Martin, I hate your tea, and wish you made coffee instead…! [DRIP] … Alright, then. […] End recording…! [CLEARS THROAT] [SHUFFLING] MARTIN: Mm? All done? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Yes. [EXHALE] MARTIN: Good.

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: We’re fine. MARTIN: A–are we? I mean, that place is– … I don’t, I don’t feel fine, okay, and you were there a long time doing your… y–you–your guidebook, which, you know, I get it, but that place is… I–it’s–it’s infectious, and, I don’t–

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: You, uh… [SHUFFLING] You might want to take a bit of a walk. This… feels like a strange one… [LOUDER SCREAMS IN THE DISTANCE] MARTIN: What does “strange” mean, with something like this? ARCHIVIST: Don’t think you want to know…! MARTIN: Good point. Hum, o–kay, well, uh… Good luck, I’ll be… uh, o–over there! [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] … Right.

(MAG166) MARTIN: Do you need anything? ARCHIVIST: No. MARTIN: Fine, I’ll just… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] Ye–yeah, right. [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE]

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: Now, if you’re quite done inciting me to murder? MARTIN: Not “murder”! Smiting. ARCHIVIST: [FOND SIGH] MARTIN: Right, yes, yes, of course. You… [INHALE] You vomit your horrors. [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: [REVULSED SOUND] Uh! I’m… not sure I like that metaphor…! MARTIN: “Puke your terrors”? ARCHIVIST: … Just go. MARTIN: Alright. Fine, I’m going. [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS]

(MAG170) MARTIN: Why am I here? I… I, I fell behind. I was, I was too slow, and, and, and the fog caught up, I was… I was following, al–always following, never leading; never leading. Why did he leave me behind? Di–did he? […] I thought you’d left me behind…! Gone on without me. ARCHIVIST: No, never…! N–never, I–I just… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] I, I didn’t want to… look too ha–, I–I–I promised I wouldn’t… know you, and, and with the fog in all–all the rooms, I’ll, I just, I lost y–, I… I–I’m sorry.

(MAG171) JARED: [LONG MEATY INHALE, EXHALE] Cheers for that! ARCHIVIST: … Don’t. MARTIN: Jon, are you… alright? ARCHIVIST: Yeah, hum… Sorry. MARTIN: No, it, it’s alright.

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: If you’re bored, you could always… take in a show. MARTIN: That’s… That’s not funny, Jon. ARCHIVIST: If you say so…! MARTIN: Just… [INHALE] Just give me a shout when you’re done, alright? [BAG JOSTLING] [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] ARCHIVIST: … Good. Right. […] MARTIN: … Sorry. You were starting another and, I didn’t want to wait. We should get going. ARCHIVIST: Y–you were listening, I… I–I–I thought that you– MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, alright? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. […] Can we just go, please? ARCHIVIST: Of course, but… You were safe here. And after everything that’s already happened, I… I–I just don’t understand why you would– MARTIN: [SHAKEY] Me neither, okay! ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: I mean, that’s it, isn’t it?! I don’t know! I don’t know why I went exploring!

So they’ve truly learned from the Lonely house: Martin had to stay in MAG163 when they discovered Jon’s new predicament; then starting MAG164, Martin began to leave Jon alone for his statements, not keen to listen to them. In MAG170, they lost sight of each other in the house – since then, Martin has gone back to staying around Jon, trying to not listen (except, precisely, that Martin went wandering off in MAG172, which he wasn’t supposed to do, and came back… just in time when Jon was beginning a new cycle). Trials and errors.

- MMMMM, so this is the second time Martin did something, wasn’t exactly able to explain why he had done it, was questioned about it, and the matter was ultimately left hanging:

(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from. PETER: You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous. MARTIN: Sure.

(MAG172) MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, alright? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. […] Can we just go, please? ARCHIVIST: Of course, but… You were safe here. And after everything that’s already happened, I… I–I just don’t understand why you would– MARTIN: [SHAKEY] Me neither, okay! ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: I mean, that’s it, isn’t it?! I don’t know! I don’t know why I went exploring! ARCHIVIST: Are you saying you were… compelled? MARTIN: I’m saying I don’t know, do I? I thought I was just curious, it felt like curiosity, but… given where we are, and with The Web everywhere, and Annabelle Cane still out there playing mind games with payphones, I just… [SIGH] I mean, how do you even know if it’s your motivation, you know? Being here… [SIGH] I–it just makes me second-guess all of it, and I… I don’t like it, it… really scares me.

Regarding Martin putting the tape recorders on the Coffin: Jonah didn’t claim it to be his doing in MAG160 (I thiiink that Peter was suspicious of Elias influencing Martin then, since he also checked that Elias wasn’t overstepping in MAG158…), so probs wasn’t him. Annabelle pointed out to Jon that she had sometimes helped “to keep you safe” in MAG147, I still feel like it was most likely her doing?

Two things were interesting here: that Martin began exploring, and that he came back just in time to stop Jon. The first one left Jon vulnerable, allowing him to potentially get trapped in the cycle of Francis’s Acts; the second one… allowed Martin to make him snap out of it just in time. Or the wandering may have “protected” Martin from being trapped in Jon’s statement, too, because he could have accidentally begun listening if he’d hung around?

(A bit afraid about the fact that, twice, it was shown that as long as Martin didn’t slap Jon out of a statement, he wouldn’t stop: it makes Jon and Martin both vulnerable to their surroundings if they’re not together. Jon gets trapped in the statement, while Martin’s main protection is still Jon… That sounds a bit like a weakness that could get used against them at some point? ;;)

- SOB about Martin mentioning he was (probably) motivated by “curiosity”, since it has been hammered in that… it isn’t a good thing for Beholding-touched people to indulge themselves too much, tends to cause their downfall, and has even allowed The Spider to sneak in and weave its Web:

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: “When Gertrude was appointed to the role, there was a single survivor left in the Archives: a woman by the name of Fiona Law. Fiona was the most fascinating combination of curiosity and cowardice, pushing forward and forward into the unknown, until the very first moment of threat… crystallised. […] She had never got deep enough into the mysteries that plagued her to slake that burning curiosity. And she never would. […] But Emma had a sickness. As much as she might have despised the ageing Fiona, it was the same one that plagued her: curiosity. That desperate, grasping need to know. […] There was a fire to Sarah Carpenter, perhaps the one which led to Gertrude hiring her, and Emma’s curiosity ignited once again, this time keen to find out exactly what it would take to break this brave investigator of the unknown.”

No wonder Martin Is Feeling So Threatened Right Now, after having learned about Emma (Beholding assistant taken over by The Web… and become a master at deceiving her Archivist).

- Martin rejected the Lonely house, so does it mean that other domains will be trying to seduce him, now? It’s interesting that he reacted to the theatre in a way that was very similar to the house, which was supposed to be “his” (but wasn’t “anymore”):

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: We all have a domain here, Martin. The place that feeds us. MARTIN: Oh. [PAUSE] Where’s yours? ARCHIVIST: [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLE] I mean, we’re… traveling towards it. MARTIN: Oh! Right, obviously. [CHUCKLING] Duh. Hum… What about me? ARCHIVIST: … Would you… like me to… ? MARTIN: No, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.

(MAG170) MARTIN: Do I have a home? This, this place feels like it’s all… for me, I think, but I don’t… [CREAKING OF A DOOR] I don’t like it here. […] I feel like there’s somewhere I need to be, but… But no, no; this is my house, [CHUCKLE] where else would I need to be? […] You, you are Martin Blackwood; yes. You–you didn’t choose to be here. Jon is coming. I am Martin Blackwood, and I am not lonely anymore, I am not lonely anymore! […] Jon, it’s… okay. I promise it’s okay. This place tried, it really did, and honestly I… I wanted to believe it. But I didn’t. ARCHIVIST: This… “place”, i–it… [STATIC] My God…! MARTIN: Yeah… [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: M–Martin, if you… did; i–if you wanted to forget… a–all of it, stay here and just… escape. I… I would understand. […] I, I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew what this place was. MARTIN: It’s The Lonely, Jon. It’s me. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Not anymore. MARTIN: Hm! No. [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] No…! Not anymore.

(MAG172) MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, alright? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. […] ARCHIVIST: Are you saying you were… compelled? MARTIN: I’m saying I don’t know, do I? I thought I was just curious, it felt like curiosity, but… given where we are, and with The Web everywhere, and Annabelle Cane still out there playing mind games with payphones, I just… […] ARCHIVIST: Would you like to leave now? [BAG JOSTLING] AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LAUGHS] MARTIN: … Yeah, screw this place. Never liked theatre anyway.

Interesting, too, that there are a few parallels right now with the situation in which Martin had initially encountered Peter in MAG108: while reading a theatre-related statement, isolated and scared. Even Jon’s way of describing The Lonely’s “seductiveness” was quite reminiscent of The Web (especially in Francis’s story):

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: The Lonely is… possibly the most insidious of the powers, I believe. Certainly it is the one that… most delights in having you do its work for it. Even the Spiders seem to have a hard time matching it for sheer seductiveness. [HUFF] “Time to yourself”, “self-care”, “putting yourself forward”… “not being a burden on those you care about”… [PAUSE] It doesn’t even need to tell you any lies; just waits for the lies you tell yourself.

So… a few similarities in the way The Lonely and The Web are shown trying to seduce Martin? Martin seemed to reject the theatre, but it could do a Peter with him and go… persistent.

(So obligatory “this is how Web!Martin can still win”, and it’s never not a good time to remind myself of:

(MAG138) MARTIN: I think he wants me to join The Lonely. ELIAS: Then it sounds like you have a decision to make. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … What? [HUFF] That’s it? No, no monologue, no mindgames? You love manipulating people! ELIAS: That makes two of us. MARTIN: [HUFF]

(MAG158) MARTIN: Oh, I’m getting there, but if this is the final test or something? Then bad luck. The answer’s still “no”. [FOOTSTEPS] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have– MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it. PETER: No! That’s not– You can’t– ELIAS: You’ve lost, Peter. Admit it. [CHUCKLE] He played you like a… like a cheap whistle. PETER: No! Shut up!

Because gnnnnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiih.)

- It was a bit of a (pleasant) surprise that Jon&Martin didn’t meet Annabelle in the obligatory Web domain of their journey! But it makes us go back to the usual question: where is she, why is she not showing herself directly, what does she want, why can’t Jon see where she is?

(MAG172) MARTIN: Jon, what does The Web want? It’s… I mean, we know it’s got a plan, can’t you just… see what it is? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] “Knowing”, “seeing”… i–it’s not the same thing as… understanding. Every time I try to know what The Web’s plan is, if it can even be called a plan, I see… a hundred thousand events and causes and links, an impossibly intricate pattern of consequences and subtle nudges, but I–I can’t…! … I can’t hold them all in my head at the same time. There’s no way to see the “whole”, the, the point of it all. I can see all the details, but it doesn’t… provide… context or… intention. I suppose The Web doesn’t work in knowledge, not in the same way. MARTIN: … Oh. Right. [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: Sorry. MARTIN: … And Annabelle? ARCHIVIST: Still can’t see her. If it wasn’t for the phone call, I’d have said she was probably already dead…! MARTIN: Yeah… [SIGH]

Jon had trouble seeing when inside of Hill Top Road, back in MAG147 (though he blamed it on having recently encountered The Dark). Could she be there? On the other side of the crack? Waiting inside of the Panopticon/Institute? On the back of Jon’s head? Being many many spiders, as an avatar, and thus impossible to locate because she’s plural? Technically dead already, but having planned and foreseen how the phone call with Martin would go, leaving a pre-recorded message that would play exactly as needed? That makes a lot of people that Jon has trouble seeing in the new world, with Georgie&Melanie, Jonah…

- I’m still laughing a lot that the beginning of the episode felt very much like Jon asking for a bathroom break:

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: Ah… Hold up, I–I need to, uh… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: Now, seriously? We’re almost out of here. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’m sorry…! Not really up to me…! MARTIN: Fine. [SIGH]

Martin: When are we getting to the Panopticon!! Can’t we take another direction or a shortcut? I don’t like these places. Jon: Can we stop for a bit? I really need a break!! Right now!!

Awful kids, do not go on vacation with them.

- Eeeeeeh that Jon&Martin’s tastes in media are so different!

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: Hm. Neil Lagorio… You ever see any of his work? DAISY: No. Not really into films. ARCHIVIST: Oh, they were… Well, let’s just say that it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them. Didn’t know we had copies in the Institute, though; let alone original cuts. [CHUCKLE] Records indicate they [PAPERS RUSTLING] ended up in… Artefact Storage. DAISY: Probably best that they stay there. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah. Yes, of course.

(MAG165) MARTIN: Was it a good poem? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know! “No”? You’re the poetry expert, Martin, not me…! […] Then I don’t know what you mean, Martin, I’m not a poetry person, I don’t… “get it”. I never have. MARTIN: That’s… That’s fine, I understand…! ARCHIVIST: Look. I’m better than I was; I used to think all poetry was bad. MARTIN: Sorry, what?! ARCHIVIST: I mean, I just thought of… [SIGH] I sort of thought it was pointless! Just… write some prose and stop… wasting everyone’s time! MARTIN: Hm! What changed? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know, I just… mellowed on it, I suppose. MARTIN: That’s… kind of weird. ARCHIVIST: In my defence, there is a lot of bad poetry out there.

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: … Methinks the Spider doth protest too much…! [BAG JOSTLING] MARTIN: Jon. ARCHIVIST: Joking! Just joking.

(MAG172) MARTIN: … Yeah, screw this place. Never liked theatre anyway.

I hope that Theatre Kid Jon felt personally offended by that last one. (I’m really waiting for Martin to learn that Jon has been listening to The Archers.)

- It had been highlighted in season 3 that Martin didn’t really get Jon’s sense of humour. The archival staff overall had a general tendency to resort to dark/insensitive humour to cope with their situation, but ;; I side with Martin on how right now, it doesn’t feel relieving or reassuring that Jon makes small jokes about the horror befalling people:

(MAG171) ARCHIVIST: It takes a skilled gardener to get them to grow like this. The curling, cascading intricacies of collagen and marrow… it takes devotion. MARTIN: Jon. [FOOTSTEPS STOP] [WHIMPERS IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … S–sorry. MARTIN: You sound like you think they’re beautiful. [FOOTSTEPS RESUME] ARCHIVIST: Don’t you? [SILENCE]

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: If you’re bored, you could always… take in a show. MARTIN: That’s… That’s not funny, Jon. ARCHIVIST: If you say so…! […] Ticket for one, then, I suppose.

… because we don’t really know if Jon wants to make them stop?

(“Ticket for one”, tho, was INCREDIBLE and very “jON.”)

- … When Jon told Martin to try to not focus too much on which part of his actions/decisions could be due to The Web:

(MAG172) MARTIN: I’m saying I don’t know, do I? I thought I was just curious, it felt like curiosity, but… given where we are, and with The Web everywhere, and Annabelle Cane still out there playing mind games with payphones, I just… [SIGH] I mean, how do you even know if it’s your motivation, you know? Being here… [SIGH] I–it just makes me second-guess all of it, and I… I don’t like it, it… really scares me. ARCHIVIST: I, uh… MARTIN: Oh, don’t say that’s what it wants, I know. ARCHIVIST: I, I wasn’t going to. […] Don’t do this to yourself, Martin. This is what it wants, the, the paranoia. [SIGH] Trust me, I, I know. MARTIN: … Fair.

… he indeed reaaaally knew from experience. MAG147 had visible effects on him, to the point that Melanie directly addressed it and Annabelle became a regular potential culprit in Jon’s mind alongside Peter and Elias:

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: I’m sure the flares will work fine. … I mean, un–unless it’s all some… elaborate… plot… to have us… burn this place down again. BASIRA: So what if it is? ARCHIVIST: I don’t follow…? BASIRA: I mean. Anything we do could be part of the “Grand Master Plan”. So – what, we do nothing? Just… sit on our hands, and hope that’s not what the spiders want? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: Melanie, could you… could you describe your therapist for me? MELANIE: [CHUCKLING] What? You think I wouldn’t notice if she had cobwebs down her face? ARCHIVIST: … No? […] It’s just… The Web can be subtle, you understand? MELANIE: And? For all you know, its plan is to paralyse you with indecision…! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Leaving you… sitting here, terrified that… everything you do is somehow all part of its Grand Plan… And who do you think that fear is gonna feed? ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. [INHALE] You are… not the first, to make that point.

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] This… tape was left on my desk. I don’t know by who, but to my mind there are… three options. Martin has left it here, to let me know that… whatever the situation is with Peter Lukas, it is entering its final act and he needs my help. Alternatively, Peter may have left it here to… goad me into action? Or just to gloat, to highlight my helplessness and everything. [SIGH] Or Annabelle Cane is trying to manipulate me into thinking it’s one of the other scenarios. Previously, the Spiders have made their presence clear when they’ve sent me… “hints”, but I can’t take that for granted. I don’t know what to do…!

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: And I don’t keep any of them with the key to the tunnels. It’s been left for me. DAISY: And it says “Play me.” Kind of suspicious. BASIRA: So Elias left it? ARCHIVIST: Or Martin. O–or Peter, or… Annabelle!

(And we still don’t know who had left the tapes and Adelard’s last statement. Peter and Martin didn’t mention them, nor did Elias, which indeed leaves The Web for these ones…)

I love that since season 4, Martin’s answer tends to be “screw it, I hate this, bye”: with Peter and Elias’s live-divorce, with the Lonely house, now with The Web doing… something to him. Trying to call to him? To make him hear “the music”, as Simon’s allegory had described it?

- So Jon has trouble seeing ~the big picture~ of The Web:

And how ~convenient~ that the Vast grandpa wasn’t dead by the time of season 4, and is probably Enjoying Sky Blue in a domain of his own:

(MAG151) SIMON: Peter, however, seems to think that it will upset the balance that we all have an awful lot invested in. And he’s not at all certain the world as we understand will come out the other side. MARTIN: And let me guess – you think he can’t see the “big picture”? SIMON: [INHALE] I see why he likes you! MARTIN: [SIGH] SIMON: It’s all a matter of perspective, you see. My patron has gifted me with… quite frankly, an absurdly long life. An appropriate gift, and one that serves to provide a certain distance from things. Of course, a paltry few centuries is nothing, really, but it’s more than most get. And even in that brief time, I’ve seen all sorts of ebbs and flows to balance off things.

We’ve yet to cross a Vast domain, Jon said he REALLY didn’t want to meet Simon ever, Simon was incredibly smitten with Martin… there is still hope for Meeting-Simon-in-the-Vast-domain.

(- Sounds like Jon remembers Helen’s point about “knowing” and “understanding” being two different things (with Jon adding “seeing”):

(MAG164) HELEN: And please: my name is “Helen”. ARCHIVIST: Like you said, I can know everything now. Including how much of a lie that really is. HELEN: Don’t mistake “complication” for “falsehood”, dear Archivist. ARCHIVIST: [AGGRAVATED EXHALE] HELEN: And remember, that knowledge is not the same thing as understanding.

And now I’m remembering that The Distortion used to be curious about the house on Hill Top Road, but not really able to tell what The Spider was doing there… Did Helen get her answers in season 4?)

- Oufft re: Martin&Jon’s discussion:

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: I was going to suggest that… I could… maybe… “know”. I could look. Just a quick peek, to, to see if it was just curiosity, or… something else. … Well? MARTIN: I don’t… If you look, and I was… “influenced”, then how can I trust anything else? How can I believe any of my thoughts and feelings are really mine? ARCHIVIST: U–uh, well… I–I–I’ll still be here to check, I–I’m not leaving you. MARTIN: Sure, but you’d be looking through the details of everything that ever crosses my mind? I don’t want that! Y–you know I don’t want that. ARCHIVIST: … I know. […] So… Do you want me to? To, to tell you if…? MARTIN: No. [SIGH] No, I’ll just have to live with it, I guess. Hardly the worst thing I’ll have gone through since– … I, hum. I–it’s fine. [SIGH]

I really liked how it absolutely didn’t feel like an argument (and wasn’t one!): Martin has objections, has the power to make a decision, and gets the last word… since it primarily involves himself. I appreciate that Martin was able to tell the main flaw of Jon’s offer – knowing what is happening could provide a temporary relief… but wouldn’t offer a sustainable existence for him (if The Web isn’t trying to manipulate Martin now, it doesn’t mean that it won’t try later, which means that Jon would have to check regularly; and if Martin is under influence… indeed, Martin couldn’t trust himself anymore, and depending on Jon’s power to check everything would turn Martin’s existence into a half-life. And it would still feed The Web in the process). Kudos to Jon for his restraint, too, because given his insistence, he’s probably curious/afraid about it, but he hasn’t broken his promise of avoiding to “know” about Martin and he laid out Martin’s options, leaving the decision to him. On that front, they’re doing fine!

Title for MAG173 very much screams “Dark, duh?!” but it feels very easy, so is it a trap. I could see the link if it were Vast or Hunt, too, but really, it just screams Dark. … And it could work for a character death episode, but I feel like every title can read like a character death episode one way or another. (Worried about Daisyyyy…)

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