#verse||madness and greatness can both share a face (villain)

[fantasiiia-archive]

Tags Post for Lyza.

[swansongcd]

tags and face reveal

[cosmic-walkers]

Episode Review - Loneliness through the Patriarchy and inevitable doom

Episode 6 Spoilers! 

so many thoughts on this episode and how great it was! First and foremost I wanted to talk about the loneliness and honestly, forms of misogyny that all three of the main girls faced. Alicent, Rhaenyra and Laena. But first, let’s just talk about Alicent and Rhaenyra.

If there’s one thing this episode showed it’s how not all is good between people. We saw last episode how Laenor and Rhaenyra came to a truce but in the end they are falling apart. At least with how the episode begins. There is a lot of distrust between them, not due to Rhaenyra or Laenor being unfaithful to one another—which can hardly constitute as that. But they have both grown and reality has hit them. The pact they made as children isn’t carrying over when responsibilities must come and both feel trapped. It’s easy to get mad at Rhaenyra for lashing out at Leanor. But at the same time she is the one who has to produce heirs. She is the one who has to go through childbirth and keep in mind it nearly killed her mother. Of course she is upset. But Laenor also isn’t awful for indulging in ways that he feels. It just however, show how even when Rhaenyra is in situations where she wants to liberate herself from the patriarchy, she is still a victim of it. She still has to give birth, even if her relationship with Harwin is her choice, it is still very much a duty she must perform. Leaner gets freedom while she does not. And because of that, she is lonely.

This brings to Alicent who is also lonely. Keep in mind, Alicent isn’t a mustache twirling villain. Alicent was a victim of child grooming, marital rape, etc., and she is hardened now. She hates the Targayarens and I can’t blame her given what they have put her through. Whether we have Viserys who is well, Viserys or Rhaenyra who also lied about her and that lie resulted in Alicent turning against her own father, Alicent is hardened because of her trauma and ptsd. Unfortunately, because of this, she is a villain yet at the same time, that makes her more intriguing.  Alicent is lonely, and even IF she has Criston we can see that Criston in some case is more interested in sharing his hate for Rhaenyra with Alicent verses actually being there FOR Alicent. And Larys I think is his name, is just using her. Viserys also doesn’t listen to Alicent. So all Alicent has is her children. This brings us to what she said to Aegon. We all know that boy does not need to be king, but Alicent’s fear for Aegon is genuine. Was it right what she said/did to him? No, not at all. But it’s also not out of the blue. Again, Alicent is a victim of trauma, abuse, etc., from many people. That includes the Targayreans. She doesn’t trust them because honestly, why would she? Ever since she was forced to marry Viserys, they have not given her reasons to trust them. She doesn’t trust Aegon with them because she sees herself in Ageon. The carefreeness, the closeness with the Targayreans. She sees her own naivety and she doesn’t want him to get hurt. Unfortunately, I think this move and mindset will ruin her family.

But it is interesting seeing how Alicent has turned from the scared girl with no choice, to a power house of her own right. But she is still lonely.

This leads me to my next point, where Rhaenyra does indeed try to fix things. Two things happened here. 1.) Rhaenyra was genuine and 2.) it was understandable that Alicent refused her. Since the last episode, Rhaenyra has wanted to keep her relationship with Alicent. That is something that hasn’t changed until this episode. Everything she said at that table was genuine. Of course, Alicent didn’t believe her and again, I understand why. Both of their states of loneliness are what pushed them to make their decisions. Both of their states of trauma and confusion push them closer and away from each other. I think it was a mistake for Alicent to refuse Rhae. Rhaenyra was extremely vulnerable, she was open and she was truthful and Alicent, ridiculed her. Not only did she embarrass Rhaenyra, but she also called Rhaenyra by her first name, rather than addressing her as princess, which was disrespectful. At the end of the episode however, we get to see how both women face their loneliness. Alicent leans into self destructiveness whereas Rhaenyra leans into her family and makes best of it.  Needless to say I cannot wait to see them next episode.

Finally it brings us to poor Laena who was in a very similar relationship to both Alicent and Rhaenyra but instead, we saw how this situation killed Laena when she didn’t have as much choice or agency as the former. Of course, the situation in itself didn’t kill Laena, giving birth did. But the way I saw this was showing how the patriarchy is eventually going to kill them all. Laena was lonely, and the only one who was going to ever be able to fix that loneliness was a man. But Daemon refused because of his own needs. Laena is very much like Rhaenyra. She is wild and she is free, but she is also a woman in a patriarchal society. It is no surprise that giving birth is what killed Laena. I think that, at least my take on it is that, when you have women who are trying to regain control of their own lives but they are limited to their gender and the freedom in which their current station grants them, then it is going to end in doom. Each of these women is a victim to men around them and it will kill them one way or another. I actually plan to write a whole different post on Laena actually because she deserves that.

[k7l4d4]

Two New AUs (Loud House & Amphibia)

Today I am rolling out two new AUs for all you folks looking for something to help fill the hole in your lives that only inspiration can! ...That was too over the top and I apologize for it. First off, my Loud House AU, Ring Me Up!

Did somebody call for a hero!? I had an idea for DC Crossover with The Loud House, and I was hoping to share it with everyone. Has anyone heard of the H-Dial? Not to worry for those who haven't, as I will explain! The H-Dial, also called the Hero Dial, is a device that allows someone to tap into a location known as the Hero-Verse, a dimension where every possible superhero that ever was, is, or will be, no matter how improbable, is connected. By dialing HERO, the wielder of the H-Dial can turn into any hero throughout the Multi-Verse! But it's totally random, so you can get either something totally amazing, or incredibly bizarre, and the second is far more likely unfortunately. Enter Lincoln Loud, a seemingly ordinary boy with a less than ordinary family who find the H-Dial. The version he finds is a bit different, as it is an experimental proof-of-concept with an unusual nature; rather than turn the wielder into a hero, it turns someone close to the wielder into one instead! To use it, Lincoln enters HERO into the Dial, and then presses a number. 1: The Determined, heroes with nothing special to them, with either very weak powers or none at all, they became heroes due to the hard work they put in and nothing less. The avatar of this number is Lori. 2: The Gentle, heroes whose greatest strength isn't their powers, but rather their compassion and connection with others, they will reach out to save anyone, even a villain. The avatar of this number is Leni. 3: The Gifted, heroes who were lost in life, without purpose or direction, until something or someone not only inspired them to be more, but gave them the ability to do it. The avatar of this number is Luna. 4: The Manic, heroes who don't always fit in to society, filled with boundless energy, and a though process that is absolutely unique. The avatar of this number is Luan. 5: The Mighty, heroes of strength and prowess, the ferocity within them can never be restrained, whether for good or ill, they invariably have powers that either let them hit, or be hit, harder and longer. The avatar of this number is Lynn. 6: The Tired, heroes who are not accepted by society, defined by the suffering they have endured, they constantly walk the border between the light and the dark. The avatar of this number is Lucy. 7: The Wild, heroes of nature, they aren't afraid to get rough and tumble, and thrive off of what most civilized folks struggle with. The avatar of this number is Lana. 8: The Elegent, heroes who have it all, grace, beauty, power, they constantly battle the temptation to do bad with all that they have, as beneath their beauty lies something twisted. The avatar of this number is Lola. 9: The Brilliant, heroes defined by their minds, who dedicated themselves to using their gifts not just to benefit mankind in the long-term, but the here-and-now as well. The avatar of this number is Lisa. 0: The Future, heroes who embody all the hopes and dreams of a brighter tomorrow, who have walked to the abyss and seen not horror, but unrealized potential and beauty. The avatar of this number is Lily. What do you all think? The above AU requires no hard knowledge of DC Comics, as the only element from DC is the H-Dial, one of the most obscure relics of power in all of DCU Publishing History!

The next AU is for Amphibia, and is what I like to call, Alone Together. Note: This is meant to be a Superhero Reconstruction AU, in which the idea is to breakdown the premise and uplifting notions of comic books heroes, and then build them back up. Here we GO!!! Also, the name of the AU is Gifted Calamities.

Long ago, the Outer Rulers were, well, bored. They had existed for so long, experienced so much, that they struggled to find anything to break the monotony of their immortal existence; it would not be wrong to say that they had been driven mad from boredom!! Yet, soon, they came across a world, just starting to fill with life, and thought of an idea. They had experienced so much, why not make something instead? Falling to the world, which had only just started developing its civilizations, they came upon its people, the humans. With mischief and intrigue within whatever counted for them as hearts, they blessed upon the simple race three gifts: Wisdom, Strength, and Heart. With the seeds of their entertainment planted, the Outer Rulers vanished, eager to see what fruits would bloom under the labor of their unknowing pawns.

As humanity found the Three Gifts, they were enthralled; with Wisdom, no knowledge was beyond their understanding, with Strength, no feat was too daring to accomplish, and with Heart, no soul was beyond salvation. But as with all power, there came those who coveted it for themselves and themselves alone; the Order of the Hungry Beast. This ancient brotherhood found the power as enthralling as their brethren, yet where the others saw beauty, they saw only their most depraved wants and whims come to life. With Wisdom, no scheme could fail, with Strength, no nation could not be conquered, and with Heart, no soul could not fall under their sway. As the Order grew in influence, they encroached upon the Gifts, drawing them deeper and deeper into their clutches. Yet, one day, a young nomad, gifted in the ways of Heart, came upon them in the dead of night, as they schemed to kill the village that held the Gifts and seize them for themselves. Horrified, the nomad, roared in alarm, her furious shriek rousing the village to action. Coming in droves, the humble village, tasked for all these years with guarding the Three Gifts, stormed outward, horrified to see that the members of the Order, those they called brother, sister, mother, father, son, and daughter, were plotting against them.

A great clash rocked the land as the Order of the Beast and the Villagers, headed by the young Nomad, battled to decide once and for all how the power of the Gifts would be used; would they be gifts of wonder, bringing humanity closer together, or gifts of strife, driving humanity against one another in eternal darkness? As more and more members of each side fell, the Nomad looked on in sorrow; for every one of the Order who were taken, three or more of the villagers were lost. It was a battle of attrition, one that they were losing! What could be done? Yet, over the din and cacophony of battle, the Nomad could here two fierce cheers; the young inventress, barred from the conflict due to a broken leg, and the chief guard’s apprentice, who volunteered to protect the children, both yelling to the heavens: “Don’t give up. You haven’t lost. You can still win. We believe you will win, so win!” As the Nomad, heard them cheer, her heart filling with joy and resolve, something... sparked. 

Just as the feeling came, it quelled at the sight of two soldiers from the Order rushed the cheering onlookers, hell-bent on silencing their voices that bolstered the hearts and resolve of the Villagers. As her heart filled with dread at the no doubt bloody sight to come, the Nomad reached out, screams of warning resting on her lips, only to fall silent as the two cheering onlookers sprung into action; the injured inventor pulled a peculiar apparatus, and launched a bolt of sharpened wood into the soldier nearest to her, and apprentice guard sprung into action, crashing down onto the hapless enemy with a fierce grin. Both turned to the Nomad, seemingly seeing her across the carnage and chaos of the battle field, and nodded. As the spark once more burned into her heart, the Nomad turned to the oncoming hoard of Soldiers and said this: “You may rage and struggle, lash out and torment with your cruelty and selfishness all you like. But you will never win. Not because we are stronger than you, that we are more than you, but because, unlike you, we have not forgotten the first Gift humanity ever had. The Gift of HOPE!” With a roar, hearts filled with the Hope burning through the Nomad’s cry, the Villagers, resolve honed into an unstoppable force, leapt into the final clash.

It was over. The Villagers had one. With the final rally of the Nomad, they pulled together the strength to break and scatter the cowardly Order. Yet, in the end, the victory was bitter-sweet. The Nomad, a kind stranger who none knew the name of, had fallen in battle, the corpse of the Order’s leader cooling beneath her. The apprentice guard, so full of life and fire that drew all into her orbit, died standing, guarding the door to the children held within, the corpses of all who tried to cross the threshold piled around her, unwavering in her duty even in her death. The inventor, heedless of her injuries, had lured a platoon that had broken into the Hold into her workshop, and collapsed it all around them, a defiant smile beaming across her face. As the Villagers took stock of the ones who had given so much for them, a noble stranger who could’ve left them to their fate, an absent-minded inventor who constantly worried the village with her studies sacrificed her prized inventions, that which she held more sacred than even her own life, to fell the enemy, and the young guard who went above and beyond her duty for those she loved, they knew what must be done. Taking the Three Gifts and the bodies of their three heroes, the Villagers committed all to fire, both to honor those who gave them their future, and to keep the Gifts from EVER falling into the hands of the Order and their selfish crusade. The Gifts were destroyed, the heroes bodies lost. All they had to do was pick up the pieces.

Thousands of years have passed, and a new era has dawned. The Gifts have returned, as has the order. The only question is: what happens now?

[jupitermelichios]

Jupiter’s Top 10 Fic Series of the Decade

In no particular order (and belonging to no particular fandom)

Honourable Mentions: Of Hunters & Hellblazers by KittyAug - Self Help by maskedfangirl - Bad Jokes by hahaharley - Doubtful Sanity by DustToDust - Wilton’s Bakery ‘Verse by machine_dove & sproings -  Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc by etothepii - New Favourite F Word by Polaris - little beasts by noctiphany & likewinning

drawn into something by Nonymos (Venom, Eddie/Venom, Dan/Anne, Eddie/Venom/Dan/Anne)

“Eddie, you… and him.”

“Yeah.” Eddie stares at the floor. “And… and look, Annie, I know it’s weird, but I can explain, I…”

His voice breaks, he’s damn near tearing up, panic rising again—and he jumps when Anne cups his face.

“Hey, it’s—it’s all right, Eddie.” She’s making a valiant effort to smile. “Don’t get so worked up. I’m not gonna run screaming.”

“No?” He laughs and sniffs. “Damn. Starting to wonder what it’s gonna take, at this point.”

This is not Nonymos’s only entry on this list. In fact they may just be my favourite fanfic author of all time. Drawn into something is everything everything I want from a Venom sequel, emotional, kinky, romantic, and poly.

OTP: Fight Club by MorganOfTheFey (Detroit: Become Human, RK900/Gavin)

"One hundred. Ten X," Nines says, voice flat enough it almost doesn't sound like bragging. "I would have been decommissioned otherwise."

"Ohhhh. Aw, that's sad. Just," She tries to snap her fingers and gets distracted for a moment when she can't. "Jus'like that?"

"Yeah RK, that's so sad," Gavin echoes. "Can you play yourself despacito?"

His own phone blares the song barely a second later. Gavin drops a few f-bombs fumbling to get it out of his jacket pocket and turn it off. Then as soon as he puts it back in his pocket, it starts up again.

"Thank you for the suggestion, detective," RK900 says. "This is making me feel better."

The fourth part of this is still coming out, and it’s the highlight of my week when the new chapter drops.

Dreams of the Waking Man by Lex_Munroe (Marvel Comics, Wade/Cable, Daken/Bullseye, Wade & Hope)

All at once, it hurts.  It hurts worse than the day Nate died (because Wade couldn’t accept it back then, insisted that Nate had managed to timeslide out, that the busted old telemetry circuit would only let him go forward and he was just lost for a little while).

He sits in the middle of the floor, ducks his head, cries.

She was smarter than he was—than he is.  She’d known all along.  Brave girl.

Timesliding doesn’t work right on Wade, never has, and their cobbled-together sliding module barely had power to take one stringy teenager for one jump.

She’d known she was leaving her parents, that she certainly wouldn’t see one of them again and quite possibly wouldn’t see the other.

Wade allows himself a moment more for grief and shame and humility.  Then he clears his throat and wipes his eyes and gets back to work.

This may be the cleverest fic I’ve ever read. Crossovers, theoretical physics, and the best love story Marvel never wrote.

The Mountains Are The Same by bonehandledknife & Primarybufferpanel (Mad Max: Fury Road, Furiosa/Max, Furiosa/Ace, Everyone & Healthy Coping Mechanisms)

“'Real isn’t how you are made’” Gilly said with the air of a quote, of a Remembering, “'It’s a thing that happens to you.’”

Rotor closed his eyes in a long blink, “A thing that hurts, innit it right?”

“Sometimes,” Gilly agreed, squeezing his hand, “That’s life though, when you are Real. We all become it bit by bit. But it doesn’t happen if you’re not strong, if you’re not soft, if you’re not sturdy.”

“ But how can y'be all of those at once ?” he wheezed out. It’s getting hard to catch his breath.

“You are all that right now, aren’t you?” Gilly asked him with piercing eyes, “No one else of all these Boys has had the strength to ask for me. And I will Witness you as I have kept all those of my sisters who’ve fallen these past days.”

This series is not always easy, it doesn’t shy away from the hard or the dark or the painful, but it is always worth reading.

The Unspoken Truth by Nonymos (MCU, Clint/Loki)

Barton glared at him like he was trying to decide whether he was being mocked or not, but the next second, his shoulders slumped. Loki was familiar with the feeling – that dreadful feeling of discovering something repulsive in one's own nature.

And then, he waited. He waited for Barton to think and connect the dots, to realize that an obvious solution was standing just before him, to remember how he had felt when waking up tied down, or being forced to drink down the water. The demi-god just stood there, hoping – almost praying for the first time in his life – that his enemy would look up at him with something else than hatred in his eyes.

No one writes kink quite like Nonymos writes kink, and this series is the perfect encapsulation of that.

The Stone Gryphon by rthstewart (Narnia, primarily Gen)

"Tools!" Richard was so shocked he was near speechless. He sat down heavily on the bench and began writing frantically in that strange code. "You are saying that you have observed ordinary crows use tools? Peter, that is… remarkable."

"Well, I've seen Beavers use fishing tackle and sewing machines, so it didn't seem that unusual at the time."

I’m not going to lie, this may not be to everyone’s taste. But, amateur theologian, lover of weird animal facts, and history nerd that I am, there are very few fics more exactly tailored to my interests.

Republic of Heaven Community Radio by ErinPtah (WtNV x His Dark Materials, Cecil/Carlos)

The greeting catches both her and Carlos off-guard. It's not wrong to talk directly to another person's daemon, but it's still a little weird. "Likewise," she stammers.

They're both waiting for the obvious next step, which is for Cecil to introduce his daemon. The fact that Carlos hasn't spotted her yet is understandable — a big community gathering in a small space, you get plenty of daemons breaking away from their humans to socialize directly with each other. Any of the dozen animal shapes currently within ten feet of them could be Cecil's. If his daemon has an unusually high range, there are even more possibilities.

What Cecil says instead is, "If you ever have any important experimental-theology news that you need to share with the town, call me any time! Everyone listens to my show." There's a touch of what Carlos hopes is nothing more sinister than smugness when he adds, "Everyone."

He steps out of the way to let someone else interrogate Carlos, and vanishes into the crowd. Carlos doesn't get a chance to see what daemon he leaves with.

This may be the most carefully thought out crossover I’ve ever read, and I’m a little in awe of ErinPtah’s skills.

The Soul in the Machine by missdreawrites & Troodon (Dishonoured, Corvo/Outsider)

“... Outsider?” Corvo asked, sitting down on the filthy floor. “In the published list of the people who died of the Plague… how many were registered Augments?”

<There have been a total of 231 dead in the past year. Of that group, 100% were Augmented individuals. This number has increased exponentially under Hiram Burrows’ “The Boldest Moves Are The Safest” law, allowing the execution of any individual infected by the Plague.>

“Son of a bitch, ” Corvo swore with feeling. “This is… look at this waste. We aren't even people to them, are we?” He looked down at the body next to him. “And I killed the one person who could help. I did this. I doomed an entire people to plague, and murder and…”

The cyberpunk Dishonoured AU I desperately wish I’d thought of, because it works so very well.

In Which Tony Stark Builds Himself Some Friends (But His Family Was Assigned by Nick Fury) by scifigrl47 (MCU, Steve/Tony)

“Do you know what the difference between a villain and a super villain is, Stark?” Coulson said, leaning his palms on the tabletop, looming over everything like a very snappily dressed gargoyle.

“Style?” Tony asked, pointing both index fingers in Coulson's direction like the gunslinger that he was. He added a wide grin to the gesture, but Coulson didn't seem to notice.

“A villain has a giant mass of robotic vacuum cleaners that he can sic on his enemies. A super villain gives them the ability to fly.”

“In my defense, I do not actually remember installing repulsor technology in the Roombas,” Tony said, choosing his words carefully. It had been a working theory, sure, but he still wasn't quite sure when he implemented it. Maybe sometime on Tuesday night... That one was a blur. “It was a very long couple of days. So I was as surprised by that as everyone else.”

This doesn’t really count as a rec, since everyone in the fandom has read it already, but it really wouldn’t be fair to draw up a ‘best of the 2010s’ list and not include this.

A Great and Gruesome Height by mokuyoubi (Hannibal, Will/Hannibal)

Bedelia lashes out but Will is quicker. He grabs her wrist, pressing hard between the delicate bones with his thumb, until she makes a soft noise of distress and drops the fork.

Hannibal purses his lips and leans in close to her ear. “Now that is disappointing,” he whispers, and Bedelia has the good sense to be afraid with that mouth so near her skin. He inhales her scent deeply and straightens. “I thought you and I were beyond such petty jabs.”

“Were it not for the fact that you required medical attention, I have no doubt I would have met a similarly crass ending at the hands of your pet,” she says, lip curling in disgust.

Hannibal smiles serenely and says, “Will is a creature entirely of his own making. It is not to me to guide his hand. Merely to share in the sublime perfection of his vision, when he allows it.”

There are many dark!Will stories out there, and most of them are a lot of fun, but few are quite at believable as this one.

[rwbyconversations]

RWBY Volume 6 Vocal Songs review

Well, we finally have it people- the Volume 6 soundtrack is out. And hopefully this time Spotify mains won’t feel left in the corner like the Ladybug fandom does during the inter-RWBY shipping discussions.

I’ll say overall I adored the songs this year and there weren’t any duds- in fact this is probably my new overall favorite lyric soundtrack since Volume 4, which was just overflowing with bangers. This year was similarly jam-packed, with every new song being the usual outstanding fare that RWBY has become known for.

... and then there’s the remixes which continue to be absolutely awful and will never go onto my playlists but this is the token mention of the remixes. Why do they keep doing them, the only good one’s been Sacrifice.

But regardless, this is my review of all the vocal songs in Volume 6. Enjoy! (forward warning I’m not a music critic so don’t expect anything too deep here)

All GIFs were made by @edelblume​, someone actually proficient in talking musical theory.

1) Rising

Rising was already one of my favorite openings to date for RWBY, if for no other reason than the superb opening animation itself. But fortunately, the song itself more than met my expectations. Featuring an incredibly strong riff from Jeff from Alex along with a surprising synth appearance in places, Rising kicks off the soundtrack with gusto, a defiant acknowledgement that their road is faced with a permeating darkness, but it won’t last, and much as nature simply knows how to be, they were born with the knowledge to do the right thing and stand against evil. For they are paragons, and death can’t hold them down for long. After years of ranking Time To Say Goodbye as my favorite opening of the show, Rising supplants it and takes its new spot on the throne.

2) Miracle

Miracle was a surprise- for the first time since Volume 3 and It’s My Turn, we got a new song in the premiere alongside the opening itself, capping off RWBY, Oscar and Qrow’s desperate struggle to buy the Argus Limited time to escape with its civilian cargo. It’s a much bleaker song than Rising, coming right as the heroes are about to have their senses of morality tested by the truths that Ozpin had been hiding from them for years. Miracle laments how they’re running out of time and that their own triumphs don’t matter- a reckoning is near and they have to answer the question of whether or not the path they’ve been walking was the right one, or just one made of lies. As the heroes scramble for a miracle, they’re dismayed to find that none’s in sight, but as they realize they’re fighting on the sight of light and all that’s good in the world, they’re determined to stand and fight until their miracle arrives.

Miracle can be seen as a proper theme song for the first half of Volume 6, as it more deeply examines the themes of the volume, especially the team’s inner conflict. The final verse especially can be seen as almost an abridging of the Brunswick arc, as the team reach their lowest points and despair at how nothing they do is worth anything before they take a breather and decide that even if the end time are coming, they’ll face it head on and give it a bloody nose before it consumes everything, still hoping for that miracle to arrive- just like a young silver eyed girl arrived in Brunswick to cleanse its tainted halls of apathy. 

Miracle was a surprising song back in October last year, and now that it’s out in full it’s honestly my favorite song lyrically on the track. It’s a perfect assessment of the situation the heroes wind up in this volume, capping off with their blunt refusal to let the end take them quietly. 

3) Lionized

I know they spell it Lionize but I don’t care, they say Lionized in the song for Christ’s sake! 

I’ve been waiting for this song for nearly an entire year since RTX and the short that won me back onto RWBY, and fortunately Lionized didn’t disappoint. Adam finally got his solo song to bow out his character after sharing From Shadows with Blake, and much like his character short, it offers a compelling, if truncated, account of his rise and fall into darkness. 

While Amity Arena’s bio had already revealed Adam’s early life to be horrific- born into slavery in an SDC dust mine, dreaming of looking up at the sky with his own two eyes one day- Lionized also makes no point of hiding the details, having the lyrics open with Adam reflecting on how he was “Insulted and reviled, Enthralled by human overlords since I was a child” (which gives off serious vibes of Adam being a sex abuse victim as a child to me and Jesus Christ). That punishment broke Adam and drove him mad in his desire to make humanity pay for what it had done to him and the hundreds of thousands of Faunus in those mines. 

Jeff kills it in this song- it’s easily my new favorite solo from him as we get a deep dive into what drove Adam past the brink of madness, as his revenge dovetails into building him up and making him more of a figurehead than an actual hero- “Watch them fall as I am glorified,” “You’ll see, I’m their hero/I’m here, I’m your savior, I’ll be lionized!” And the guitars are something else, a constantly churning ripping and shredding beat that combines with Jeff’s voice sounds like a feral animal about to attack. And if there’s one way to get me hype for a villain in anime, grab some guitars and start shredding. 

While Miracle might be my favorite song of the OST on a lyrical level, Lionized just knows how to get me hyped and this’ll probably be the one that gets the most replays on my playlist. It captures the old spirit of RWBY’s original music and delivers with a rip-roaring track that matches its narrators madness with shredding gusto.

4) Big Metal Shoe

I had no expectations for Big Metal Shoe. In fact I figured this would be the weak link of the soundtrack. Surely what seemed to just be a diss track at a villain I wasn’t especially fond of wouldn’t make for a good song, right?

And then we got Caffeine 2.0 and... it was actually kinda good. Again, I’m a simple man- throw some guitars at me and I’ll smile and nod like a kid watching fireworks. This sound wound up being a fun little darkhorse for the soundtrack, alongside a seeming self-imposed challenge by Williams and Abraham to make as many fairytale references in two and 3/4 minutes as physically possible. 

There is one downside though- this song’s actually incomprehensible. I don’t understand half of it. Jeff and Casey have this problem a lot of the time where it’s hard to understand them but this is just peak “Are you even speaking English anymore?” And then Lamar shows up for the Token Lamar Rap Verse that every RWBY OST includes and then it gets even worse.

While I wasn’t expecting much from Big Metal Shoe, it still made for a fun few minutes. Now I can’t wait for Flynt’s lyric video so I understand most of the song! 

5) Forever Fall

RWBY’s track record with ballads can be generously described as “hit or miss.” For every Cold or Home, we have Wings or All That Matters. Forever Fall has a crucial advantage over those weaker examples in that I actually like most of the characters featured in the song. Being about Pyrrha encouraging Jaune from beyond the veil while Jaune struggles to press on, much as she did in the Boundless Jaune Amity Arena bio, it’s a somber tune, and easily one of the better attempts Jeff and Casey have made at a slower, more quiet song. I’m not the biggest fan of how RWBY has handled Pyrrha’s death since Volume 3, sometimes it feels a little like they keep JNR around just to more easily have access to angst fuel for it, but Forever Fall definitely helped set the bitter stage for the statue scene, which does still stand as one of the better scenes of Volume 6 (even if it does lose some of its weight once you realize Pyrrha probably wouldn’t have actually liked the statue due to her hatred of being put on a pedestal). Casey knocks it out of the park with her voice and the piano plays a beat on many a fan’s heart. 

I’m especially fond of the theory that this isn’t so much a Pyrrha singing to Jaune song as it’s a song that can symbolise both of them at the same time. Credit to the crew for that.

6) One Thing

Neo’s far from my favorite character in RWBY, and I’ve made no secret of how I think she’s dreadfully overhyped outside of being a good luck charm for well animated fights. Luckily for her and fans then, her charm status made it into Maya unscathed, and Neo was protected by the universal rule of soundtracks.

The villain songs are always really fucking good.

Casey finally lives out her dream of voicing Neo in One Thing, a bitter revenge fantasy where Neo makes no reservations about how much she’ll love putting down anyone and everyone responsible for Roman’s death. She talks (heh) of how she had nothing before Roman came- not a voice, not a home, maybe not even a name if I’m hearing that one line right. “Then a brand new flame brought a brand new name.” 

Add in a badass as all hell chorus and Neo jumped up a few places in my personal RWBY polls thanks to the presentation of her musical debut alone, to say nothing of her fantasies about killing Cinder (can relate). One Thing shows just how effective a great song can be, setting the scene for a fantastic fight scene, a solid return for a fandom-beloved character and then even making someone who considered her the Boba Fett of RWBY start to like her. I’m eager to learn more of Neo’s past before she met Roman, whenever that day comes.

(btw is it bad if I kinda ship Neo and Roman now?)

7) Nevermore

I don’t have a lot to add that hasn’t been said since the finale aired- it’s a pretty great song and a fantastic closer for the volume, I hope Atlas means we finally stop getting Blake or Yang-focused credit songs because this was the third in a row and it’s getting tiring, the disconnect between the writers and actors calling Adam “the worst” while the songs and bios paint a far more complex picture is a bit of an odd disconnect that I hope doesn’t repeat if they ever remember that Cinder’s an abuser too. 

8) Armed and Ready Acoustic

Nice song, shame it’s gonna get ruined by all the fucking Beehaw/Yorse jokes. You weren’t funny in February, you’re not funny now. You’re not even worth a comment about beating a dead horse. Not sure I like the acoustic going full country but whatever. Wake me up when I’m The One gets the acoustic treatment.

9) Indomitable

Indomitable was the song I was probably the most hyped for in the V6 OST alongside or even surpassing Lionized. Ruby’s Silver Eyes scene was a strong contender for the best scene of the season and single-handedly made up for what otherwise could have been a Breach-level anticlimax of a finale, and part of what made it work was Indomitable, the short but powerful song that played as Ruby gave Bubbles The Leviathan both ocular barrels. Ruby finally getting a song after five straight albums was ambrosia to my soul, after years of having to make due with “Maybe Ruby’s song is meant to be the OP?” as Weiss, Blake and Yang got song after song after song, oftentimes getting multiple songs in a single year (Hi Yang. Stop hogging the jukebox. Please.). Finally, I thought, she’d get a track, and one that appeared to be about her accepting her role as the light standing against the darkness, all capped off with a beautiful quiet tribute to Monty in the form of his old blog quotes about the human spirit.

So I must admit, when I listened to Indomitable proper, I was... disappointed on the first listen. It’s still a lovely song, but it wasn’t what I hoped and wanted it to be and it took a little while to appreciate it in spite of that.

Indomitable is a tribute song to Monty, a la Cold from Volume 3. But while Cold had a double meaning that made it work in and out of universe (being a song from CRWBY mourning Monty that could also reflect on Jaune mourning Pyrrha), Indomitable is far less connected to RWBY in-universe unless Ruby had a dream offscreen where she met a tired looking guy who made worlds based off his ketchup stains then woke up and made a Christian Rock song out of it. 

Rather sadly for me at least, this also hurts the original Indomitable scene in question as well. It doesn’t truly fit the original scene now, as much as it did when we thought the song was about Ruby recognizing her spirit. It was a great way to cap off a volume that was overall great for Ruby. As she finally got to take center stage as protagonist in her own show, we finally got a new song about her standing unyielding against the darkness. What was a great character moment for Ruby has now rather sadly been hurt by the song. Not terribly, I still love the climax of Volume 6. But now the song just feels a touch out of place.

I know some people have already been rather critical of anyone who didn’t like the song because it wasn’t what they wanted (I’ve seen a fair few people express disappointment that the song wasn’t the Ruby-focused song the chorus and placement in the show led us to believe) and that tired old “subverting expectations” argument came up. To which I must reply that “What did you expect me to take from a song showing up during Ruby’s most powerful moment, that the song was actually about Port?” While what we got was still a powerful song that makes for an interesting trilogy of songs of RWBY dealing with Monty’s death in Cold, Let’s Just Live and Indomitable, I think Ruby’s fanbase especially are very fairly allowed to be disappointed that they were stripped of the chance to finally get her first focus song in half a decade. Instead we get another Ruby song where she’s not even the real focus (much like Blake’s trailers get hijacked by her supporting cast, Ruby’s songs get hijacked by anyone within a mile of the recording booth),  

I still liked Indomitable, and it does become a stellar song after the first chorus.. It still has Ruby’s overall attitude and the lyrics do still allow one to reflect on Ruby and her growth over Volumes 1-3 and 6. It’s a lovely, touching and very emotional tribute to Monty and a rousing anthem to celebrate his legacy (wait does this mean Indomitable breaks the Monty Rule? ;) ) and had it been a simple bonus track that we only learned about when the OST dropped a la BMBLB or Dream Come True it would have been a lot better in my opinion. We still got a lovely song and in the heat of the moment, it worked really well for Ruby. But at this point, I really just want a new inarguable Ruby song above all else, and this probably should have been kept as a bonus song instead of being used in-show. Still good, but I’m just a bitter bitch and wanted something else

Conclusion and ranking

Volume 6′s vocal tracks were a near-perfect selection this year. After Volume 5′s tracklist was more comparatively disappointing (Smile and This Time are the only ones I’d really go back to at this point), the V6 tracklist was far more impressive and a near constant streak of home runs. While Indomitable wasn’t what I hoped and wanted it to be, it was still a touching tribute to Monty and proof that his soul lives on in RWBY. If Jeff, Alex and Casey are as on fire next year as they were this year, the wait for the Volume 7 OST will be even more painful. Round of applause for the music team this year, they did a stellar job and I wish them all the best for Volume 7. 

1) Miracle 2) Lionized 3 One Thing 4) Rising 5) Forever Fall 6) Nevermore 7) Indomitable 8) Acoustic Armed and Ready  9) Big Metal Shoe 10) The music that played during Merc and Em’s scene in Lost.  10) The godawful Triumph and Path to Isolation remixes. Please. Leave the songs alone, I hate Volume 5 but even it didn’t deserve that torture. 

Thank you for reading. 

[hopelesstvaddict]

A Case for Boromir

There is never enough praise for Boromir so here are some thoughts :

First and foremost, he’s not a villain. He was never portrayed as much. His character served as a living example of the destructive power of the Ring.

He was a good man, good-natured with plenty of qualities.

He was a skilled warrior with good experience in leadership. Among the members of the Fellowhip, he was probably the one who was the most versed in the art of commanding men, strategy and battle planning, having done it for most of his life. He would have been a formidable asset during the Battle at Helm’s Deep or at the Pelennor Fields.

He is most probably familiar with Gandalf already since Faramir says he took lessons with him when he was younger.

Boromir starts off as a very skeptical man, hesitant to trust other races for his own fate and the fate of Gondor. That’s because he was always alone in defending both Osgiliath and Minas Tirith against Mordor; they never got any help from anyone and they were left to fend for themselves essentially. That certainly takes a toll on the mind. Plus, Mordor was literally their neighbour so the Gondorians must feel a little pressured. That probably hardened him to the point of second-guessing everything and being just a tad cynical.

As a result, Boromir has learned that he can only rely on himself in life BUT at the same time, his role as a commander implies that he bears responsibility for the men he leads. See the contradiction here ? And Boromir must have lost countless men.

That’s how he knows how Frodo must feel after Gandalf’s death and why he tries to tell him not to blame himself. He has been there before. Countless times. Not to say that the others haven’t - Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli probably have lost friends too - but Boromir probably was the one who had the most experience in death and mourning because he was a leader of dozens of men. That’s also why he begs Aragorn to let the Hobbits rest and mourn right after they exit Moria. He has been there before.

His military background also makes him practical and quick thinking. After Gandalf falls, he is fast in retrieving the Hobbits and forcing them to move on - while Aragorn is still in shock - because he knows that seeing men die does not mean those who still live are safe. He only thinks of mourning once they're out of Moria when he thinks they're safe - which Aragorn points out is not the case.

Speaking of the Hobbits, he loves them so much. Merry and Pippin especially. Perhaps because he feels they’re the ones that need protecting most. And that speaks about Boromir’s character so much. He takes it upon himself to teach them basic swordfights - meaning he’s a patient man. He probably has done this before.

He would have been good with children.

He loves too much in general but he has had to learn not to show it.

And like mentioned beforehand, he was a skeptical man at first but he gradually has to change his mind and learn to respect, value and rely on the others as they are all forced to do. His mind opens gradually and he accepts that he can count on others in life.

This is perhaps Boromir's first real adventure that's completely different from the military campaigns and battles that he is familiar with. As he goes through this journey and is forced to rely on this group of strangers, he can't help but appreciate them more and more and admire them for skills and resilience he didn't think they could necessarily have.

He is an honorable man. He doesn’t like to lie and tries to speak the truth whenever possible. When Denethor sent him to the Council, he was not willing to go and it was Denethor who put the idea of using the Ring for good in his mind and to bring it to Minas Tirith. So he went to the Council and joined the Fellowship with kind of a double purpose - because if we’re being honest, he was all about protecting the city so his joining a quest he doesn’t really believe in and leaving the defense of his beloved city to ... ? “Ah baby brother will take care of it, Father will be so happy about it” - anyway, a double purpose, but he was never really ok with it. Thus why he kept suggesting going to Minas Tirith so that maybe the others would agree and then he’d feel better about it. Not the best way to cope with secrets and lies, but hey, he was only human. Headcanon that the more he travelled with the Fellowship, the more he became against the idea. Basically he struggled with this internal conflict during the whole time he traveled with them.

But the pressure from his father was too much so that’s why he could never go against his wishes. I’m not going to dwell very long on the relationship between Denethor and his sons because he loved them for sure, but the pressure he put on both was detrimental to their mental states.

He loved his brother to bits. Above anything else. Always defended him against his father and called his father out when he judged he was being too harsh.

Though his father was the prominent parental figure, Boromir didn’t take after him and grew into his own person and had the sense of loving both his father and brother even though his family was completely dysfunctional.

They lost their mother when they were very young. They had to grow up very fast and the hard way. They had no choice but becoming men before their time, no choice other than becoming strong, brave and valiant.

His whole relationship with Aragorn. He never disliked the man. At first, his initial reaction is totally understandable - I mean, when you think about it, you’ve been fighting your whole life for your city on your own, you’ve probably learned when you were younger that your role as Steward was to wait for the King to return ONE DAY but that said King has never appeared in what? Centuries? And then, a stranger is suddenly revealed to be that King ? Are you really going to say ‘Well, here are the keys to the kingdom” ? No. Of course you’d be wary of the whole situation. He needs to judge and feel the man before making a decision. His very nature called for that reaction.

But he doesn’t stick to that view. Like I said, he is not close-minded. His journey with Aragorn shows him that yes, the man is capable, a good man, a skilled warrior and a potentially great leader of men. That’s why he comes to bond with him - or at least tries to - about Gondor and the strength of men. Because he thinks that Aragorn would do well with his role. He sees this, and Aragorn, though he respects Boromir, doesn’t want/isn’t ready to assume the role he is meant to have and that frustrates Boromir because he knows what Aragorn can be. He doesn’t realize that Aragorn has been raised by Elves who are a little more on the downside when it comes to what the race of Men can still do and bring to the world. So he is honest with him and tells him in his face - “I know you’re more than up to the task but you refuse to see it yourself, wake up man”.

I think what’s potentially even more frustrating to him is that in Aragorn, Boromir probably saw a kindred spirit with whom he could share the burden of taking responsibilities in wartime. Headcanon that though Boromir was the most skilled warrior between him and Faramir, he sometimes was just like his brother and dreamed of peacetime and retiring quietly to sit back and enjoy life. Headcanon that he sometimes suffered little bouts of semi-depression when the pressure of war and the pressure from his father became too much and headcanon that with Aragorn, he thought “maybe this is someone who can understand what I’m going through and who can help me, share the pain with me and maybe ease it". Split the leadership if you will. And when Aragorn refused he felt rejected and that he was alone after all.

He feels alone - yes he has his brother - but he has lost too many men and too many friends and he has had to learn to harden himself but he feels alone.

He is blunt and a bit tactless. Not at all like his brother who handles wording a bit better than him.

He has hope for Men because as a leader of men and a captain, if you don’t have hope, that’s just not going to work so he just HAS TO cling on hope; otherwise what’s the point ? And then, of all people, the potential King throws it back in his face that no, he personally doesn’t hold any hope for the race of Men. Like OK...

And even with that, when the Fellowship breaks apart, he has already decided that Aragorn would be his captain and King. That’s not just some redeeming words uttered just for the sake of peace of mind. He really meant them and he’d probably come to that conclusion at some point before Parth Galen. Headcanon that had he lived, he would have become that annoying voice that whispered to an increasingly amused Aragorn “King”. OK maybe not.

He was burdened all of his life by having to protect his people. Because that’s what he wanted to do first and foremost, to fulfill what he felt was his duty. And because his father put immense pressure on him. All his actions stemmed from this desire to protect.

The Ring took advantage of these deep insecure feelings, the pain and the fear of having to defend Gondor alone, the pressure from his father and turned it all against him.

He still realized right after, when his madness spell was over, that he had made a grave folly and he tried to redeem himself by fighting hard for Merry and Pippin.

The man was strong as hell. Two arrows in and he still had the strength to get back up and fight some more. That’s how powerful a warrior he was. His prowess on the battlefield was a known fact among Gondorians and that extended to the Rohirrim as well, with Eomer praising him highly. Can you imagine if they had met?

[bestnoncannonship]

Alright..I'mma get in on this VC fancasting debate.

As a director, I often have a LOT of opinions on people's casting decisions. A LOT. (Someday, I'll write a novella on Ken Brannaugh's casting.) So as I see a LOT of fancasts casts based on how people look and few based on whether or not the actor can likely handle the role, I'mma throw my hat in the ring. (Warning....the more I write the less technical and more shitposty this is gonna get!) So here you go! The Vampire Chronicles series if I got to cast and direct it!!

The Brat Prince:

Most importantly....we gotta get us a Lestat. And the choice is clear:

Evan Williams: this fabulous shitposting aesthetic trash is as close to the one and only Vampire Lestat as we are gonna get on this plane of existance. He is all charm and quite light in his loafers and a complete mess.......but most importantly, he has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is able to play a character that does inexplicable and morally reprehensible things while still being read as highly sympathetic, likable, and even a hero. That's what I worry about most with Lestat. He really is a very terrible person who doesn't learn or face too many consequences. And he has to be very very very sympathetic. Not just "Oh I Stan that villain" likeable.....but a true hero. And it takes a very. Special. Actor. To pull that shit off. And this is it. This is the guy. He was hired to play an Iago-esque gay villain type in Versailles, STOLE THE SHOW OUT FROM UNDER GEORGE BLAGDEN (no mean feat as Blaggy was giving a hell of a performance) and made his character a beloved icon. Yeah....I trust him to lead a show. I trust him to be Lestat.

Nicholas L'enfant:

Okay not gonna lie I struggled with this one. There was someone else I wanted to see in this role....but I decided he was better employed elsewhere. And this is who I ended up with:

Yep. George Blagden. See...in the grand scheme of things Nikki is a very low-screentime role that has a LOT of impact on the story. And who better to trust with low screentime that the god of grantaires, who took a few small shots and lines and GAVE US A FULLY CHARACTERIZED GRANTAIRE in the Les Mis film. He is very sweet faced, and easy to like, can make being an on screen depressive fascinating instead of dull and has proven time and time again that he is the master of the complete mental breakdown, complete with horrifying but tragic crazy eyes. Also.....he bears a strong enough physical resembles to.....

Louis!!!!:

Our beautiful depressed dark angel with a vampire eating disorder who has no self esteem and is still in love with his abuser needs nuance. He needs soul. And he needs a sweet and delicate beauty. And so:

Alexaner Vlahos!!! The soulful eyes!! The delicate bone structure!!! The slight tones of simmering resentment!!! The ability to play a character that could have become VERY one note VERY quickly with goregeous amounts of nuance and sympathy!!! Vlavla has quite the varied resume. Mordred. Phillipe. Romeo. Captain Hook. To put it lightly he has a LOT of range and the one through line is he is NEVER boring. He plays a lot of roles that could very quickly become boring and one note (Romeo? Captian snooze right there!). But every second he's on screen or stage he is so completely alive in whatever he is feeling. I TRUST him to keep the entirety of Louis's brooding nuanced and fascinating for an audience and to physically and facially convey Louis's very important internal monologue that we will not be able to hear because this version is going to be from Lestat's point of veiw. I toggled with the idea of making him Nikki for a while....but ended up with Louis for 2 reasons. 1) he doesn't need the scripted plot drama Nikki has written in to make a compelling character and 2) he and Williams share such beautiful chemistry. Whenever they're together, even off screen, their focus shifts so that they orbit each other like bianary stars and any director can see that that's something that should be explored and exploited to add demension to the Louis/Lestat relationship and justify why they keep coming back to each other.

(And so ends the Men of Versailles segment of my fancast. So sue me. There's some incredible actors there.)

Let's return with

Gabrielle De Lioncourt:

The incomparable Alex Kingston, lately of River Song fame, though I met her as Elizabeth Corday, and Doctor Corday is driving this casting choice. I wanted an actor who was an appropriate age to play Williams's mother cause we don't fuck with that women are "old" at 30 shit in this house. And she can carry off the kind of "I will not hesitate to kill a man" BDE that Gabrielle requires without trying, but she's also proven herself comfortable and competent with the level of CAMP that VC requires. I can see her easily showing up on set for a few scattered episodes, slipping easily into the verse, and nailing the kind of woman who can put Lestat in his place then run back off to the jungle. Also....that De Lioncourt hair!!!!!

Marius "Daddy" Romanus:

Yep. This fuck. I can hear it now.... "Why isn't he lessssaaaat??? He's so blonde and prettttyyyyy????" Well....mainly because....I ain't sure this lil fuck can run a show as a very despicable but likeable hero yet. He's admirable. A good actor. A great villain. But not a hero and not heroically likeable. Personally, I'm of the opinion that in 10 or 15 years he will have grown into the ability to play something as complex as Lestat with likability....but for now.....DAMN is he a creepy imperial thing. He's got that "My house, my rules" vibe down. He's preditory. He's distinguished. He is Marius. And he's go the best Roman coin profile I've ever seen.

Armand:

N/A

Ok. Controversial decision....but I want to see a complete unknown as Armand. Send casting out to cast a wide net, scour the world for the Botticelli death machine. But definitely don't pull him from the pool of already famous younguns. Because your Armand needs to be deep. Skilled. And primarily UNSPOILED by the school of child acting that is forced upon child actors. (I was a commercial kid and child stage actor. It was terrible.) Go out and get some twinky fresh faced raw talent so you get depth.

Claudia:

N/A

Big old ditto on what I said above about child actors. A nice doe eyed unknown, preferably without a stage mom.

AKASHA:

Yikes. So many amazing choices!!! How do you follow Aliyah??

With literal human perfection Gina Torres of course!!! Again....I wanted to go with an older woman. Someone who would be seen as an authority to all vampires. Someone god damnned goregeous. And someone who I find intimidating. Also, since I'm skewing a little tall with this cast (at least as TV actors go) I wanted someone who comfortably stands among and above most of them! She's a seasond tested actor, and certified badass. And we know she can steal a scene. Besides if she can look regal as a queen in that weirdass dress they gave her in the serenity movie she can pull off whatever monstrosity costumes comes up with to follow the Aliyah getup.

Khayman:

Don't @ me but....I have a LOT of feelings about Khayman. I love his particularly breed of immortal insanity. I love the way immortality drove him mad into a childlike enjoyment and curiosity. And I knew exactly who has to be casted to play that combination of intimidating ancient and innocent curiosity:

This is Howard Charles. He is capable of playing both an intimidating giant and a sweet soulful cinnamon roll at the same time. I cannot sing this man's praises enough. Am I scared of him? Do I want to hug him? Both? He's also one of the best scene SHARERS I've seen on screen in a long time and that's very important in a supporting role.

Maharet:

Just because Anne Rice doesn't know shit about Mesopotamia doesn't mean we have to follow her in that. I wanted to pull from Middle Eastern or Indian populations for her to best reflect the look of the region in a time that's roughly in line with the pre-dynastic Egyptian mish-mosh associated with Akasha.

So I'm gunning for Indira Varma. When I say this woman has timeless beauty.....I mean timeless. She's as prehistorically hot as she is today. And she's such a strong actress, I want to give her a role that isn't 50% sex scenes. She's got both the warmth and the commanding strength to play Maharet. I would ideally like to get a dancer to play Mekare....someone who can handle the physical interp of the role. Probably an Indian dancer to match Indira Varma.

David Talbot:

In the newly declared tradition of Doctors playing Talbot:

This is the only current Gif I could find of Sylvester McCoy. Known to many as the Seventh Doctor. And to many as Ratagast the Brown. He embodies that sort of huffy aging britishness that David projects, but has the over the top personality that can give us those hints of the vitality of David's youth. Basically I can see this man telling stories about hunting tigers in India. Then when he gets the hot young Raglan James Body:

Luke Pasqualino. Swarthy young troublemaker. But for all the youthful good looks, he proved that he was able to play grace and gravitas as D'artagnion in the final season of the BBC Musketeers. I'd love to give him a chance to explore that deeper part. I also trust his ability to match the energy of a cast, which he did repeatedly on musketeers, and portray both the impulsive self aggrandizing Lestat in the Raglan James body and to play the DarkAU Musketeer type that is Raglan James himself.

That's literally all the Gifs I can put in a post. I know I skipped Daniel......but that's because I have surprisingly few opinions on Daniel.......he's very much a vanilla audience connecting character. I'd almost like to see an unknown in that role....just to see what we a new face could make.

And thus ends my casting of the Vampire Chronicles!!

[jcmorrigan]

A Good Listener

Well, it happened. I wanted to write a oneshot for my current shipping poison. And, as usual, the fic took over and wrote itself. I snooped around, and either ff.net doesn’t have an archive for the Netflixverse of ASOUE or I couldn’t find it, and this is most DEFINITELY Netflixverse and not bookverse (though it contains bookverse elements and some mild spoilers for the bookverse and presumably things that have not yet been filmed for Netflixverse). So you’re getting this uploaded right to Tumblr.

Title: A Good Listener

Fandom/Verse: A Series of Unfortunate Events, Netflix series

Pairing: The Hook-Handed Man x The Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender

Rating: PG (swearing, small animal death, nothing actually steamy but implications that there may one day be steam - not quite T but not quite K+ either)

General notes: The Hook-Handed Man will be referred to by his bookverse canon name (so beware of spoilers in the FIRST PARAGRAPH). All the rest of Count Olaf’s associates will be referred to by names I came up with and assigned to them and should not be taken as canon or even popular fanon (though believe me, I’d be flattered if they were referred to by these names elsewhere). Fic assumes Grim Grotto and the revelations within will be played close to the books. 

(Also mad props to @gavillain for story advice and fine-tuning. I don’t even know where my writing would be without you, man.)

STORY UNDER THE CUT HERE GOES

If you asked Fernald what his best qualities were, he would not have thought of himself as an exceptionally good listener. He would instead have cited his acting talent (not entirely accurate) or his skill doing various criminal acts as required by Count Olaf (though with perhaps a twinge of doubt on his own part). In order to save face, he might have even claimed he was excellent at figuring out how to operate machinery such as telephones on the first try. This claim would have been entirely false and would have fooled absolutely no one.

           If you asked a certain other member of Count Olaf’s entourage what Fernald’s best qualities were, however, the first thing they would say was that he listens. He was, in fact, the only person that ever really seemed to listen to them.

           Before the Baudelaire children ever came into the life of Count Olaf and when his nefarious schemes were directed toward other matters than their fortune, he and his troupe were based out of a theatre of somewhat good repute located in the arts district of the city. As it turned out, running a theatre and performing shows of dubious quality was an excellent front for criminal activity ranging from arson to petty thievery to actively trying to undermine the largest secret organization dedicated to justice in the known world. Olaf had filled his theater with what he believed to be like-minded people: the bald man Bolton, the white-faced twins Charlotte and Emily, and Fernald, the one who would often come to be referred to as the “hook-handed man” after a gruesome incident best not detailed within this tale.

           Fernald was a rather exceptional case, as he himself had previously been affiliated with the very organization that Olaf had cursed and spit upon. The great schism had brought him to the conclusion that he was far more suited to setting fires than dousing them, and he had resolved never to look back. This didn’t mean he was exceptional at not looking back at all. Some things he had left behind refused to stay in the past, at least in his memory. Some days, he wished he could set fire to thoughts in order to prevent them from ever coming back to haunt him. Olaf, of course, had seen his prior involvements as an asset; a peek into the enemy’s defenses, so to speak. Olaf was a cruel master, but one with whom Fernald felt like he was on the right track.

           He was attached to his teammates as well. Bolton was difficult to get along with at first, but the two of them had found common ground to bond over after some time. Charlotte and Emily, he could never keep a good handle on which was which, but they didn’t mind Fernald calling each by the other’s name so long as he participated in their gossip sessions. Much to Olaf’s annoyance, when the four weren’t involved in a scheme or rehearsing for a masterpiece by “Al Funcoot,” they could often be found playing cards backstage, with the inevitable result that Fernald would lose.

           That was exactly what they were doing, making a point to ignore Olaf, on the day that they heard him step onstage with an unfamiliar voice accompanying him.

           “Who’s he talking to?” Fernald muttered so as not to be heard by Olaf.

           “Dunno,” Bolton replied. “Should we check it out?”

           “It might be a new associate,” Emily theorized.

           “Or maybe an enemy he’s luring into our clutches,” Charlotte suggested quietly.

           “Or a critic who saw our latest show,” Bolton added.

           “Critics actually watch our shows?” Fernald said in disbelief.

           The cards were abandoned and all four villainous associates gathered in the wings to spy on Olaf and the stranger: a tall, auburn-headed person who seemed to be reacting to Olaf’s exposition with apathy.

           “Wow,” Fernald whispered. “She’s beautiful.”

           “She?” Bolton whispered back. “That’s a man.”

           “It’s rather hard to tell from this angle,” Charlotte commented.

           “ – And, of course, you’ll have to meet the rest of them,” Olaf was saying. “They’re all idiots, of course, but they get the job done. Which is really all I’m asking of you. OHHH, HENCHPEOPLE!” Olaf clapped loudly to summon his associates.

           Fernald, Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily waited a moment before appearing so as not to give away how closely they’d been watching. “Yeah, boss?” Fernald spoke up, leading the group.

           “I would like to introduce you all to your new associate,” Olaf said dramatically, stepping out in front of the newcomer and gesturing toward them for the group’s benefit. “Avery Orson.”

           “Actually, it’s Ainsley Orlando,” the newcomer corrected in a rather monotone voice that made Bolton suddenly far more sure of his conclusion.

           “Whatever,” Olaf huffed, rolling his eyes. “Avery – “

           “Ainsley…”

           “Will be joining us for all our plots henceforth,” Olaf went on, “as a steadfast ally against those well-read do-gooders.”

           “V.F.D. looks pretty good on paper,” Ainsley stated, “but I’ve become pretty disillusioned with their exclusionary nature and literary elitism.”

           “So, basically, play nice,” Olaf commanded. “Also, Avery – “

           “Ainsley…”

           “ – is part of the theater side of the troupe as well, so hopefully, the Daily Punctilio should be a little nicer to us now that we have fresh talent,” Olaf concluded.

           “So, uh…” Bolton broke in, “you are a guy, right?”

           Fernald smacked one of his hooks against Bolton’s upper arm for that. Fernald, of course, was curious as well, but he wasn’t about to ask a new associate something that rudely.

           “Actually, neither of the binary genders accurately represents me,” Ainsley stated casually, “so if you could all use ‘they’ and ‘their’ pronouns when you refer to me, that’d be great.”

           It was a simple enough request, but one that Bolton would outright ignore over the next month, opting to still refer to Ainsley as “he” and “him.”

           “Well, Ainsley,” Fernald said, stepping forth, “welcome to the – “

           He had extended his right arm before he remembered. Withdrawing the hook, he just gave a shrug. “Team.”

           Ainsley’s eyes followed the hook, noticing the matching one on the other arm. They became incredibly curious, then, about what had happened to put Fernald in such a condition. But they, much like Fernald, weren’t about to simply put a new teammate on the spot.

           There are many things that can bring people closer together. Collaborative art projects, shared meals, fighting together against a greater evil, book clubs, classes in special interests, theatre, and assorted villainy, to name a few. Ainsley’s bonds with Fernald, Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily were forged mostly through use of the latter two.

           Olaf remained ever the leader, and often times it was hard to tell whether he was proud of the team he’d assembled or whether they made him regret most life decisions that led up to his leadership of them.

           When the Baudelaires came into their lives, it gave them all almost a sense of renewed purpose. The parents of Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were quite hated among the troupe, either through reputation or personal experience, and their passing was not mourned. And now that Olaf had his sights set on obtaining their wealth, the others found themselves onboard a fast-moving train of plotting and scheming that was much more interesting than their pre-Baudelaire days.

           However, Olaf’s initial dealings with the children prompted several absences from the theatre, leaving the other five to their own devices and not much to do other than rehearse the “Al Funcoot” piece known as “The Handsomest Zookeeper.” This was extremely hard to do when the man who had insisted upon casting himself in the titular role was absent, but the others made do by propping up a broom and draping a suit over it, pretending it was Olaf.

           “So when do you think we get to meet the brats?” Bolton asked during a stretch of down time; the twins had taken a break to brew some tea that would become heavily sugared while Ainsley, as the rookie, was tasked with changing the set pieces for the next act. Bolton and Fernald reclined as best they could in the front row seats of the audience.

           “Whenever Olaf decides we can actually get involved again,” Fernald grumbled. “You think he was serious about splitting the fortune with us?”            “He better be” was Bolton’s only response.

           After a moment’s silence, Bolton asked, “What do you think of the new guy?”

           “You mean Ainsley?” Fernald replied. “First of all, they’re not a ‘guy.’ Second…they’re all right. They seem to fit in well around here. Good enough actor.”

           “He never shuts up about weird stuff,” Bolton commented.

           “They have a lot to say,” Fernald rephrased. “It’s interesting, sometimes.”

           “Yeah, sometimes.”

           Both were interrupted by a piercing scream. Ainsley, shrieking loudly, pealed onstage. The current set had been meant to emulate a dining room, with a large, crooked wooden table taking center stage. In one feat of unprecedented dexterity, Ainsley leapt on top of this table, positioning themselves at its center and frantically looking around at the stage below, cries petering out into whimpers.

           Bolton stifled a laugh. Fernald, on the other hand, immediately concerned by whatever had Ainsley so terrified, practically jumped up from his seat, rushing onstage at the same time that Charlotte and Emily skidded into the auditorium from the outside hall, nearly spilling their tea. “What’s wrong?” Fernald barked up at Ainsley.

           Ainsley required a few breaths in order to collect themselves before informing Fernald, “There’s a snake backstage…”

           “A snake?” Fernald repeated, and Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily all flinched. “What kind of snake?” Fernald hoped not to hear the response “The deadly kind.”

           “It’s just…it’s a snake,” Ainsley responded, visibly trembling and turning circles and circles on the table to be on guard for it. “And it’s RIGHT THERE!” They pointed at a spot on the stage floor where the perpetrator, a smaller-than-usual garter snake, was curiously making its way out from the wings.

           “That…is a very tiny snake,” Fernald pointed out.

           Ainsley had run out of words, shuffling toward the edge of the table that was furthest from the snake’s current position.

           “You’re not going to be okay until one of us kills it, are you?” Fernald sighed. He wasn’t a fan of snakes either. Had the garter snake been any larger, he would have been slightly nervous.

           Ainsley shook their head, their quivering becoming even more prominent.

           “One minute,” Fernald sighed, storming backstage (to the opposite wing from where the snake was) to root through the troupe’s collection of odd props that could conveniently double as weaponry. A snow shovel caught his eye. It took him a few tries to get his hooks in a grip on the handle, and it tilted at an awkward angle as he carried it back out onstage.

           By this point, Charlotte and Emily had joined Bolton in the front row of the audience. The scene was becoming far more entertaining to them than any Jacquelyn Seieszka film.

           Fernald didn’t just kill the snake with the snow shovel. He smashed it flat repeatedly, absolutely destroying its physical form so that it barely resembled a snake anymore. The WHAM, WHAM, WHAM of the shovel hitting the floor bounced around the acoustically excellent walls of the auditorium. After about a solid two minutes of making sure the garter snake was obliterated from existence, Fernald finally dropped the shovel. “The snake is gone,” he announced, turning back around to face Ainsley.

           Ainsley looked back at him with uncertainty.

           “You can get down off the table,” Fernald encouraged. “It’s dead.”

           Ainsley gingerly clambered down onto the stage as Fernald approached them, driven inexplicably by the desire to make sure Ainsley wasn’t permanently traumatized.

           It should not be necessary to point out that Ainsley was ophidiophobic, and didn’t have a good relationship with most other types of reptiles either. The garter snake’s sudden appearance had shaken them, and though the threat was now neutralized, they were still reeling from the scare. Instinctively, they sought a protective bastion until their heart rate had lowered, and so, without even thinking, they closed the distance between themselves and Fernald and wrapped the latter in a tight embrace, grateful that Fernald had stepped up to get rid of the offending reptile and now seeing Fernald as the safest thing in the entire auditorium.

           Fernald was stunned by this reaction, though he didn’t make any moves to shoo Ainsley away. Instead, after some thought, he gently wrapped his own arms around Ainsley, taking care not to jab them in the back with either hook. “It’s all right,” he repeated. “The snake is gone.”

           Ainsley realized what they were doing just then, letting go of Fernald and backing away in embarrassment. “Can we…pretend that never happened?” they asked sheepishly.

           Fernald nodded, a bit flustered himself. “Sure. That’s…a VERY good idea.”

           “Hey,” Bolton called up from the audience. “Somethin’ going on between you two?”

           “Something?” Fernald replied. “What do you mean SOMETHING? There’s NOTHING!”

           “I was just reacting out of ophidiophobia-driven instinct,” Ainsley added. “There really isn’t any deeper meaning behind what just happened.”

           “Of course there isn’t,” Charlotte said teasingly.

           “Why would we EVER think there was?” Emily added, equally teasingly, and the twins’ smirks were both far too gleeful.

           “The snake is dead,” Fernald growled. “End of discussion.”

           “You know what would happen if you two WERE a thing, right?” Bolton brought up.

           “By ‘thing,’ do you mean a couple?” Ainsley clarified. “Because if you mean that, we’re definitely not.”

           “Olaf would figure out some way to use it against you,” Bolton pointed out. “Get you to do what he wanted.”

           “Then it’s a good thing we’re NOT A COUPLE,” Fernald insisted. He knew quite well how ruthless Olaf could be about exploiting where one’s affections lay; that was why he’d been careful to the extreme about never letting Olaf know he had a sister.

           “Right,” Bolton jeered. “Mr. The-New-Guy-Sure-Is-Pretty.”

           Ainsley turned to Fernald in interest. “You said that?”            “NO!” Fernald yelled defensively. “Can we just get back to work already?”            Ainsley gave him a shrug that more or less meant “yes.”

           “And somebody clean up that dead snake!” Fernald barked as he stormed backstage. 

           Ainsley’s downtown apartment wasn’t overly lavish, nor was it representative of one living in destitution. It was small, but for one person living alone, that made sense, Fernald thought as he glanced around it. He felt incredibly out of place there, and wondered how he’d even gotten to that location. Of course, he knew how: it just struck him as a bit unbelievable.

           Olaf’s scheme to marry Violet Baudelaire had gone belly-up. Now the entire troupe was on the run from the law, though the law hardly had any idea where to start looking for them or what their names even were. All five had felt relatively safe hiding out in their own abodes, though when the phone had rung earlier that afternoon, Fernald had admittedly jumped, fearing the law had already tracked him down (and not realizing that the first thing they would do was knock on his door, not call him on the telephone to try to arrest him via audio). It had taken him, as usual, a few minutes to figure out how to answer the phone. No matter how many times he did it, he seemed to always mix up the receiver and the mouthpiece; it simply didn’t click as a natural pattern in his brain. When he finally did get it turned right way round, he practically yelled “HELLO?”            “Is this Fernald?” a familiar voice had asked.

           “Who is this?” Fernald snapped in response. “Who’s calling me?”            “This is Ainsley,” the voice replied. “I kinda want your help with something.”

           And that had begun the conversation that led Fernald downtown to Ainsley’s living space.

           “So do you want any coffee or anything?” Ainsley offered.

           “No,” Fernald said brisky. “I’m good. Thank you.”            “You can totally sit on the couch if you want,” Ainsley continued.

           Fernald took them up on that one, settling in on the beige couch. “So what did you want my help with?” he asked.

           “I actually have an audition in a couple hours,” Ainsley informed him, “and I wanted a second opinion on if I was emoting properly in the soliloquy I prepared for it.”

           “You’re actually doing a show the boss didn’t write?” Fernald said incredulously. “Which one?”

           “Equus.”

           “Isn’t that the one where the kid gets turned on by horses?”            “It’s actually more complicated than that,” Ainsley explained. “It’s basically a critical analysis of spirituality in modern society.”

           “I’ll, uh…I’ll take your word for it.” Fernald settled back into the couch. “So, uh…did you invite the rest of the troupe over, or…?”            “Just you, actually,” Ainsley admitted. “I just think you’re probably the most appropriate person to judge my delivery and give me an honest opinion.” That wasn’t quite true, but Ainsley didn’t feel it quite appropriate to let on to Fernald that he was the person they felt the most comfortable around, between him using their correct pronouns and his actions during the day of the great garter snake invasion.

           “Well, let’s hear it,” Fernald encouraged.

           Ainsley momentarily wondered if inviting Fernald to review their audition was a mistake. Watching him watch them was giving them classic symptoms of stage fright, which Ainsley found odd, as they generally didn’t have such a condition, even in front of audiences of hundreds. Perhaps it was because of their amicability toward each other, the fact that Ainsley actually knew the lone member of their audience this time, that was causing Ainsley’s heart to beat faster and palms to sweat. They closed their eyes momentarily in order to find the beginning of what they’d memorized, then took a breath, opened their eyes, and began to recite.

           They didn’t get two lines in when the phone rang.

           “Sorry,” Ainsley sighed. “I have to get that.”

           “Go ahead,” Fernald replied.

           He watched Ainsley walk into the kitchen to answer the phone; the door offered a clear view of them the whole while. “Hello?” they greeted, picking up the receiver. “Yeah, this…you what? You totally couldn’t have called at a worse time. Okay, so I have this audition for Equus in a couple hours and…I don’t really…no, I…that’s not…can you at least let me talk? Okay, fine. I’ll be there. Yes, I’ll tell them. All of them. No, I won’t forget – his name is Bolton. And mine’s Ainsley. I said I’ll BE there.” They slammed the receiver back to the telephone base with a show of force Fernald had never seen before. Then, continuing to surprise Fernald, they picked the receiver up and slammed it angrily back into place several more times. Fernald had a pretty good idea of who had called.

           He got up from the couch, crossing tentatively into the kitchen. “That was the boss?”            “Yeah,” Ainsley confirmed, still staring daggers at the phone.

           “Let me guess. He needs us for a scheme. Right now.”

           “Yeah.”

           After an awkward silence, Ainsley turned to face Fernald, obviously trying to stuff their anger away. “Fernald?”

           “What?”

           “How do you spell ‘coroner’?” 

           Somehow, the entire troupe managed to shake off the authorities that were tailing their van, despite the van being emblazoned with a definitely misspelled “CORNER,” a testament to why Fernald should never be asked to help spell anything.

           Fernald, Ainsley, Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily ended up holing up at a rundown motel, awaiting Olaf’s call and further instructions. They booked four rooms, with Charlotte and Emily sharing one. They then congregated in Fernald’s room, all five cramming onto the bed, in order to start up a new card game.

           There were only so many hours that can be killed playing cards. “Maybe he forgot about us this time,” Bolton theorized.

           “If only we were so lucky,” Charlotte griped.

           Emily elbowed her sister in the side. “Without Olaf, where are we?”

           “We’re here, is where we are,” Fernald grumbled, playing the absolute most wrong card he could have picked. “Playing cards in a dingy motel where I know I saw at least three spiders in the bathroom.” A thought occurred to him. “Ainsley…you aren’t afraid of spiders, are you?”            “Not as much as snakes,” Ainsley replied, intentionally picking a worse card than Fernald’s play. It hadn’t taken them long to catch onto the fact that Fernald usually lost at such games, and they felt somewhat piteous toward him for that, hence the beginning of an intentional losing streak on Ainsley’s end.

           “Well, if nothing else, we’ll at least get treated to another show of Fernald beating the spiders to death with a toothbrush,” Emily joked.

           The last card was played and the score tallied. “You know, Ainsley,” Bolton commented, “you’re really bad at this.”

           “I know,” Ainsley responded nonchalantly. “And totally not on purpose, either.”

           “Another hand?” Charlotte asked.

           This was met with four groans; everyone was sick of playing. “I’m going to bed,” Bolton announced as the group scrambled off Fernald’s bed.

           “I’m going to go find coffee,” Ainsley added. “I have seriously needed coffee for hours.”

           “It’s…” Fernald checked the clock. “Eleven at night. And you’re getting COFFEE?”

           “I’ll have decaf,” Ainsley said with a shrug.

           “It’s already eleven?” Charlotte remarked. “That’s far past bedtime, if you ask me. What do you think, Emi – “

           Emily collapsed onto Fernald’s bed face-first, snoring.

           Bolton had to scoop her up to carry her back to the room she shared with Charlotte. “If he calls at two in the morning,” he informed everyone, “I’m seriously going to think about punching him in the face when we see him again.”

           The group parted ways, and Fernald lay down in his solitary bed. At first, he considered simply going to sleep. It was, after all, very late. Yet he made no move to detach his hooks, as he usually would before lying down for the night. He wondered if it was reflection upon all the excitement of the Dr. Montgomery incident that kept him from dousing his mental light.

           Then he wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Ainsley had said they weren’t going to sleep just yet either.

           He found himself leaving his room to make his way to the lounge. A small, weathered coffee machine was situated in the middle of a counter, free for use by patrons of the motel. Fernald guessed Ainsley had been here in order to obtain the coffee, but they were long gone by that point. Perhaps they’d gone back to sleep.

           Crossing back through the lobby, Fernald stopped to ask the hostess, “Have…you seen a very tall person with reddish hair come through this way with a cup of coffee?”

           The hostess nodded. “She actually went out front of the building. There are a couple chairs set up out there.”

           “They’re not a…” Fernald shook his head. “Never mind.”

           He exited the motel into the dark night to see a patch of rickety-looking chairs set up on the lawn in a semblance of guest convenience. One of them was occupied. Fernald reconsidered joining the familiar silhouette for a moment; perhaps they just wanted to be alone. Then again, there was never any harm in asking, was there?

           “Mind if I sit?” he asked as he approached Ainsley.

           “Go ahead,” Ainsley replied, and Fernald took the chair next to him.

           There was silence for a moment as Ainsley sipped from their steaming, chipped cup and Fernald rummaged around his mind for conversation topics. “So,” he said at last. “Some day, huh?”

           “Yeah,” Ainsley replied, rather miffed as they recalled the events. “Because missing my potential break into serious acting in favor of walking into a plethora of snakes and other assorted reptiles was totally how I wanted to spend my day.”

           “Well, look at it this way,” Fernald pointed out. “You might have missed your audition, but you brought down the house as Nurse Lucafont.”

           It was hard to tell in the dark, but somehow Fernald was still able to detect the faint smile that replaced Ainsley’s disgruntled expression upon hearing that. “You weren’t bad either.”

           It was then that Fernald realized, for the first time in hours, that they were still wearing their disguises from earlier in the day. He couldn’t imagine what the hostess must have thought of the entire troupe walking in dressed as though they were the cast of a forensics-based TV program. “You look pretty good in that,” he said softly.

           “What?”

           “What?” Fernald feigned ignorance. “So…what were you thinking about out here?”

           “Lots of things.” Ainsley paused to take another long sip. “I was actually considering the nature of romantic love.”

           Fernald didn’t even think to wonder what could have put Ainsley on that train of thought, even though by that point, it would have been obvious to any outsider. “What about it?”

           “I was wondering if it’s even real,” Ainsley explained. “Sometimes I think it’s all just a societal construct designed to fool us into taking on cultural roles that are largely patriarchal. Sometimes I think it’s actually one of the greatest mysteries and most powerful forces in existence.”

           “You…ever been in love?”            “Not yet. But I think I’ve been pretty close a few times.” Another sip of coffee. “What’s your take on the subject?”            “I don’t even know,” Fernald admitted. “I guess I think it’s real. I’ve felt…things. About people. I don’t know as much about this kind of stuff as you do.”

           “I think you do,” Ainsley corrected. “You just word it differently.”

           It was then that Fernald failed to exhibit the self-control he knew he should have had. Listening to Ainsley speak had only reminded him of all the things he appreciated about his co-worker, and he suddenly felt compelled to demonstrate this. He leaned over in the dark, briefly kissing Ainsley on the cheek.

           The coffee cup hit the ground, its remaining contents spilling.

           Fernald was hit with the full realization of what he’d just done. Ainsley had turned to face him, and he could make out an expression of bewilderment on their face. “I don’t know why I just did that,” he sputtered, flummoxed. “Do you hear Bolton calling me? I think I hear Bolton calling me.” He rose from his seat and turned to scurry back to the motel. “I should go – “

           “Fernald.”

           A hand landed softly on his shoulder from behind; Ainsley had risen as well. Fernald had to work up the nerve to turn back around and look them in the eye.

           “It’s when I’m with you that I think the idea of romantic love isn’t a total fallacy,” Ainsley confessed.

           “Wait, really?” Fernald replied.

           “You’re the only one who really listens to me,” Ainsley told him. They leaned forward a stitch, and Fernald caught on, stepping closer to meet them so that Ainsley could gently press their lips to Fernald’s. Their hands sought out and caressed the sides of Fernald’s face, and Fernald found himself rather lamenting that he didn’t have hands to do the same; the best he could do was just wrap his arms around Ainsley’s waist as he returned the kiss more forcefully.

           “Olaf can’t know,” he said when they parted from the kiss.

           “Olaf won’t know,” Ainsley reassured him.

           “NONE OF THEM can know.”

           “They won’t.”

           They stepped back from each other. “It’s probably midnight,” Ainsley realized.

           “And nobody knows how long we have to get any sleep before the boss calls,” Fernald sighed. “Just…one more, first?”

           They kept the kiss brief, then walked back into the motel side by side.

           “Goodnight, Ainsley,” Fernald said earnestly.

           “Sweet dreams, Fernald.”

           They entered their respective rooms, across the hall from each other, and as each closed the door, each took a moment to lean back on it and reflect in disbelief on what had just taken place.

           To Olaf’s credit, he didn’t call at two in the morning. He called at three. 

           Shortly thereafter, the troupe found themselves ferrying Count Olaf across Lake Lachrymose. While Bolton, Ainsley, Fernald, Charlotte, and Emily crammed themselves into a small rowboat, Olaf fixed a slightly smaller rowboat behind them and decided immediately he wasn’t going to be doing any of the work whatsoever. Charlotte and Emily sat up front while Fernald was positioned in the rear of the boat between Bolton and Ainsley, the latter two of whom were rowing to propel the entire entourage forward. This was at the behest of Olaf, or, at the very least, he had wanted “Gordon and Avery” to do the rowing.

           “So the Montgomery thing was a bust,” Olaf rambled, as much to himself as to anyone else. “At least he’s dead, and if there’s one thing we didn’t need, it was Montgomery Montgomery figuring out our plan. I still can’t believe that idiot thought I was from the Herpetological Society. Given his reputation, I’m surprised he didn’t figure out who I was right away and make up some lie about thinking I was a spy from some cold-sore organization to throw me off the trail.” Then he paused. “…He didn’t just DO that to me, did he?”

           Olaf continued to rant, to the point where Fernald was basically tuning him out. He noticed when the boat seemed to take a sudden tilt to the side. Bolton’s rowing was still steadfast, but Ainsley was flagging. Fernald took one look at Ainsley and knew something was wrong; they were bent over the oar, face gone completely pale.

           “Are you okay?” Fernald whispered.

           “No,” Ainsley whispered back. “I’m trying really hard not to throw up over the side of the boat.”

           “What, you’re seasick?”

           “It’s a large lake, remember? I’m large-lakesick.”

           “I swear you’ve told us you’ve been on boats before!” Fernald hissed.

           “Bigger boats,” Ainsley corrected. “Boats where I can’t actually feel the water…rocking.”

           “You going to be able to row?”

           “No…”

           “Give it to me. Now.”

           Ainsley nodded, pursing their lips together to be sure that the next thing that came out of their mouth was words and not vomit. Both Fernald and Ainsley knew far better than to stand up in the boat, an action that would surely take the whole operation overboard and make the others not only soaked but very, very crabby. They did their best to shuffle past each other, switching places. Once Fernald was settled on the edge of the boat, it took him a couple tries to position his hooks in such a manner that he had a definite grip on the oar, but at last he found a comfortable hold and took up the job of boat propulsion.

           “What are you doing?” Bolton asked.

           “Switching,” Fernald answered sternly.

           “Yeah, but WHY?”

           “Because I want to row the boat,” Fernald insisted.

           “You’re just rowing because HE’S too lazy to,” Bolton accused, indicating Ainsley, who was at that point settling in to lie on the bottom of the boat between Bolton and Fernald.

           “They’re not a ‘he,’” Fernald growled.

           “I’m right here,” Ainsley reminded them both. “You can actually, you know, talk to me.”

           “Sorry,” Fernald muttered.

           “Will you all quit arguing and ROW THE BOAT?” Olaf yelled from his position behind.

           “That’s exactly what we’re doing, boss!” Fernald called back. He then looked down to Ainsley, asking softly, “Any better?”            “Yeah,” Ainsley replied, shutting their eyes tightly.

           “Just keep your eyes closed,” Fernald advised, “and try not to think about the waves rocking the boat back and forth, or the water rippling underneath us, or the – “

           “FERNALD.” Ainsley had opened one eye to glare up at him.

           “Probably not helping. Right. Sorry.” 

           The Captain Sham gambit was twice as convoluted as Plan Stephano. The troupe put on their best performances (which isn’t saying a lot) when it came to uniting Olaf and Josephine in a romantic relationship that was about as real as the second elevator shaft in 667 Dark Avenue.

           From there, it was a madcap rush between fencing the Baudelaires in at Josephine’s cliffside abode and making sure everything at the Anxious Clown restaurant went as wrong as it could.

           As Arthur Poe and Count Olaf, still in the guise of Captain Sham, sat in the main seating area of the small dining facility, the troupe had the run of the kitchen, making sure their captive waiter Larry didn’t give the game away by hiding messages in the food he was to bring to the Baudelaires. Larry, for his part, had either believed the quintet to be incredibly stupid or hadn’t counted on them being familiar with the secret V.F.D. methods of communication.

           “You’ll never defeat us,” Larry asserted. “You can surround us. You can throw us out of windows. You can threaten us and make us cook for you – “

           “Sorry to interrupt, but what’s the soup of the day?”

           Larry, Charlotte, Emily, and Bolton’s heads all whipped to look at Ainsley, stupefied that they’d made such a non sequitur request. Fernald, for his part, was unfazed.

           “Well?” Fernald barked. “Answer the question!”

           “It’s clam chowder,” Larry growled. “But I don’t see what that has to do with – “

           “You’re OUR hostage now,” Fernald insisted. “And that means you do what we say. And right now, I say you MAKE THE DAMN SOUP!”

           He stole a quick glance at Ainsley, whose face had lit up.

           “And while you’re at it,” Fernald ordered, “get me one of those Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers.”

           “Don’t put any secret messages in that one, either,” Ainsley added.

            This wasn’t to say that everything between Fernald and Ainsley was forged of complete accord. They had their share of arguments. For instance, one was had the night before, when Fernald, hoping to divert attention from the time the two spent together, had clearly assigned Ainsley the task of guarding Larry, and Ainsley, thinking the twins had it under control, had simply gotten into the car with the rest of the troupe. Then there was later that very same day at the Anxious Clown, when Fernald found Ainsley and Larry having a conversation about pasta puttanesca. Then again, it wasn’t so much a conversation as Larry bewilderedly listening to one of his captors describe a pasta recipe he already knew how to make to him and wondering how he’d gone from being the troupe’s dish-washing servant to this.

           “STOP BEING FRIENDLY TO HIM!” Fernald snapped at Ainsley, having flashbacks of when he’d been less than cruel to Sunny Baudelaire and how well that had turned out.

           Ainsley fell silent, looking away. They absolutely hated being snapped at by Fernald; it hit right in the heart.

           The telephone rang. Neither Ainsley, who was still dismayed from being shouted at by Fernald, nor Fernald, who was at that moment wondering if he’d been too curt with Ainsley, thought to actually stop Larry from answering it. “Anxious Clown Restaurant,” Larry greeted halfheartedly. “This is Larry, your waiter.”

           “Larry, I don’t have much time,” a muffled voice, likely disguised by a cloth placed over the mouthpiece of the connected phone, said over the line. “The Quagmires are alive.”

           “Alive?” Larry said in disbelief. “Where?”

           “The tunnel system should have taken them to the depths of Peru.”

           “Peru?”

           “We haven’t heard anything on the Quagmire children. Are they still safe?”            “Secure for the moment,” Larry hissed, “but you need to know – “

            “So are you gonna stop him?” Ainsley grunted.

           Fernald realized letting the hostage use the telephone may have been a fatal mistake. He rushed to overtake Larry, hooking the phone cord and yelling into the mouthpiece, “WHO IS THIS?” His usual telephone illiteracy overtook him, and he peered into, then listened at the mouthpiece, trying to remember how those cursed devices actually worked. He fumbled with the receiver for a moment before giving up on it completely. “Hello?” he yelled at the phone. “HELLO!” He then bashed the phone a couple times with one hook. “How does it WORK? HELLO!”

           Larry simply stared on in fear and disbelief.

           Fernald spun to face Ainsley. “HELP ME WITH THIS THING!”

           “No,” Ainsley replied, not making eye contact.

           “WHY NOT?”

           “Because you yelled at me.”

           “Listen.” Fernald dropped the receiver and stormed toward Ainsley. “We don’t have time for fooling around, making nice with the hostages!”

           “We don’t have time to waste trying to figure out how phones work, either.”

           “WHAT?”

           The argument that followed was lengthy, with Fernald’s volume steadily increasing while Ainsley put more and more creativity into the insults they hurled at Fernald in return.

           “YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KIND OF GAME?”

           “If it is, you’re a pawn with delusions of grandeur of being a dictatorial king.”

           “I BET YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO PLAY CHESS!”

           Larry tried to use his captors’ distracted state to edge toward the door, but Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily all planted themselves in front of it so he couldn’t make an escape attempt.

           “The only reason,” Fernald huffed, finally running out of steam, “I didn’t want you to play nice with him is because that’s how you end up with tape on your mouth, giving the hostage a free ride all the way down to the theater. I know this from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE.” He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Sorry I yelled.”

           “Sorry I called you an ignorant example of the sheeple that are slowly poisoning our already toxic society. Among other things.”

           “You’re forgiven,” Fernald relented.

           “Are those two…?” Larry tried to whisper.

           “We’re not a couple,” Fernald and Ainsley said as one in a knee-jerk reaction.

           “Of course not,” Charlotte said smugly.

           “Whyever would we think you were?” Emily said even more smugly.

           Fernald and Ainsley exchanged a nervous glance, then looked away from each other, both wondering if they’d gotten a bit too obvious. 

           The Captain Sham sham sank like a rowboat that had just been pulverized by a cannonball. However, the entire troupe escaped once again, speaking to Mr. Poe’s ability to actually corner known villains.

           “Where are we going now, boss?” Fernald asked as they all loaded up into a getaway car.

           “WE aren’t going anywhere,” Olaf replied, briefly glancing into the rearview mirror, which was pointed down at his face rather than at the back window as is actually safe when driving in heavy traffic, so he could wink at himself. “I’m going to contact an old ally. You’re going to wait until I call you for further instructions.”

           While Olaf made haste toward a town calling itself “Paltryville,” the other five returned to the city. Bolton hid out in his usual apartment, and the twins found their house in the suburbs to be secure. When it came to Fernald and Ainsley, however, splitting up wasn’t in the cards.

           “I never saw your place,” Ainsley pointed out.

           “I don’t really think you want to,” Fernald replied.

           They ended up at Fernald’s apartment anyway, and Fernald found himself somewhat self-conscious of the mess it had been left in. Hardly anything was clean, and nothing was where it was supposed to be, with dishes on the bookshelf and socks in the silverware drawer. The entire apartment ran on a premise known to many as “organized chaos.” Fernald knew where everything was, and it was exactly where he needed it to be. He suspected Ainsley wouldn’t see eye-to-eye with him on this, however.

           “I know,” he sighed. “It’s a mess.”

           “It’s bigger than my place,” Ainsley pointed out.

           They spent the afternoon playing various card games. Fernald was astonished that Ainsley lost every single hand, thinking it miraculously that he’d somehow found the one person in the world who was worse at card games than he was – though again, this was an intentional act on Ainsley’s part. And Ainsley was more than happy to owe Fernald a back rub for a lost game.

           After some discussion, they decided it was still too soon to be sharing sleeping quarters, but at the same time, they did want to remain together for as much time as they had, knowing it wouldn’t be much before Olaf called them into action once more. Fernald decided to spend the night on the couch, letting Ainsley have the bed in the adjacent room.

           Thinking Ainsley was settling into the bed for the night, Fernald detached his hooks, huddling under a spare blanket on the couch, which was old but not uncomfortable. No sooner had he closed his eyes when he heard a voice asking, “Can I make a cup of coffee?”

           “It’s ten-thirty,” Fernald replied, opening his eyes and sitting up. “So I assume you want decaf.”

           He talked Ainsley through the locations of the coffee grounds and filters in the kitchen, as well as the mugs, which were kept in a cabinet under the television. As Ainsley watched the coffee drip into the pot, Fernald asked, “What are you thinking about?”, knowing Ainsley was always thinking about something and suspecting their mind was going into overdrive if they needed coffee that late at night.

           “I was just thinking about evil,” Ainsley admitted. “I always thought good and evil were another binary that people didn’t really belong to one or the other of. Morality isn’t black-and-white. It’s more like a grayish color. A lot of people do bad things for good reasons, and a lot of people do good things for bad reasons. Then there’s us. We do bad things for bad reasons, but really, so far, we’ve just been doing what we need to do in order to get ahead. We’re looking out for ourselves, and people like us need to do that.”

           “But?” Fernald encouraged, sensing doubt in Ainsley’s voice.

           “I’m starting to wonder if we’re taking it too far,” they admitted. “I was cool with Dr. Montgomery dying and all, but Josephine wasn’t really a threat to us. I also didn’t actually see Dr. Montgomery GET killed, which, all considered, shouldn’t really change things, but it still made me wonder if I’m actually becoming evil.” The coffee maker beeped; Ainsley removed the pot to pour a cup. “And I thought I’d be cool with it if I was, but maybe I’m not.” They paused, momentarily afraid to look Fernald in the eye. “You probably think that means I don’t belong with the rest of the team, then. Or you.”

           “I don’t think that,” Fernald assured them, lightly touching the end of his arm to their forearm. “Good and evil are complicated. I never thought people were one or the other either. I always thought people were more like…chef salads, with good and evil mixed up in them.”

           “Even Olaf?”            “Yes. He’s got some good in him SOMEwhere. Just not where any of us can see it. I know I have a lot of good and evil mixed up in me. I’m fine with it. And I think you’re the same way. I don’t know exactly HOW good or HOW evil you are. But I like you. I always love hearing you talk about stuff like this.”

           Ainsley turned to face Fernald, smiling unsurely. “And I totally love that you listen.”

           They kissed briefly. “I like you so much,” Ainsley continued, and they kissed again after that. “But what happens next time – “

           “Let’s not think about next time yet,” Fernald decided before a third kiss ensued.

           That seemed to bring Ainsley to a realization. “You always listen to me,” they reiterated, backing off a bit. “Maybe I don’t listen to you enough. I want to know more about you. How’d you get involved with Olaf, anyway?”            And in that moment, Fernald was tempted to tell Ainsley everything he could never have told Olaf. About Fiona. About the true nature of the V.F.D. schism and what led him to make his choice. He was ready to begin speaking of all such things, and very nearly poured all of his secrets out in a manner similar to how Ainsley had poured the contents of the coffee pot into a cup, when the phone rang, and they both knew who was calling.

           Fernald looked at the ends of his arms in a panic; answering the phone would be twice as difficult without his hooks, and it would take him a bit of time to reattach them, time during which Olaf would become grouchier and grouchier. Ainsley knew exactly what Fernald was thinking, asking, “Do you need me to hold the phone?”            “Yes…”

           In an instant, Fernald was set up in front of the telephone, with Ainsley holding the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” Fernald greeted.

           “Ferdinand?” Olaf said in disbelief. “Usually it takes you longer to answer a phone.”

           Fernald exchanged a quick and somewhat anxious look with Ainsley. “Had to get it right sometime,” he said sheepishly. “So, whaddaya need, boss?”

           “I’m at the Lucky Smells Lumbermill in Paltryville,” Olaf explained, “and they just so happen to be in need of a new foreman. One with HANDS, mind you. Being the brilliant casting director that I am, I know you’re perfect for the job. Though, like I said, bring hands. We need a little…ACCIDENT to happen here at the mill.”

           “I’ll be right there,” Fernald promised.

           “And hurry it up,” Olaf insisted.

           “I am literally headed out the door as we speak!” Fernald replied, following in his boss’ footsteps of confusing the definitions of “literally” and “figuratively.” He nodded to Ainsley, who took the cue to hang up the phone.

           “The boss needs me in Paltryville,” Fernald explained. “Now.”

           “You need me to come along?” Ainsley asked.

           Fernald didn’t just refuse because Olaf hadn’t specified for anyone else to accompany him. Olaf’s emphasis on the word “accident” rang in his ears, coupled with Ainsley’s uncertainty about murdering Josephine Anwhistle. “I’ll be fine,” he said simply. “This shouldn’t take long, hopefully.”

           “I’ll wait for you,” Ainsley promised. 

           Of course, villains, even villains with a fair amount of good and evil mixed together in them, are as subject to misery as those who are not villains. No matter how much sugar you put in your tea, you cannot escape the impending rocks that life places beneath your wheels.

           However, this also means that villains are just as apt as those who are not villains to come by events that are fortunate, though for those who are their victims, these events are usually seen from the opposite point of view entirely. Sometimes, however, they simply find something as significant as someone to talk to, or someone to listen to. And from a certain point of view, that isn’t so unfortunate after all.