#why do i hear ominous carnival music

[startistdoodles]

"I can do anything! Hahaha! Ciao!"

I fused Dimentio, Jevil and Marx and concocted a dastardly fellow-

[gravity-falls-dreamer]

Gravity Falls: Dreamer Chapter 2: Carnival

“Come on, Dipper! Hurry up!” Mabel shouted as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I don't want to miss the freaky carnival that rolled into town!”

"Alright, Mabel, just a second!" Dipper grumbled, struggling with his shoes. "A carnival appears out of nowhere and suddenly it's a must-see. It's probably cursed or something."

Dipper hurried after his sister, nearly tripping in his haste to reach Stan's old car where Mabel was already waiting.

Hearing the commotion, Evalin emerged from the hallway into the foyer, narrowly avoiding a collision with Dipper, who apologized quickly before dashing outside. She noticed Stan in front of the foyer mirror, looking surprisingly dapper in a dark gray suit and brown shoes, an 8-ball topped cane under his arm.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” Evalin teased. “What's the occasion?”

“I guess some crazy carnival rolled into town overnight while we were all sleeping,” Stan responded with a grin. “The whole town's buzzing. Plenty of folks to swindle. Why don't you go spread the word or somethin', eh? Make yourself useful.”

Evalin let out a nervous laugh before waving him off. “I think I'll start with breakfast first. Have you guys eaten yet?” she asked, heading towards the kitchen.

“I'm sure the kids probably had cereal or somethin',” Stan shrugged as he got his tie just right. “Hey, if you see Sixer today, tell him we went off to town, would ya? I'm sure he is down in his lab doing whatever nerdy thing he does. Well, I'm off to make my fortune! See ya!” Stan announced with a clap, striding towards his car where Dipper and Mabel were yelling at him to hurry up or they'd miss all the fun.

The old car rattled down the road towards the town. From a distance, Dipper and Mabel could already spot the carnival attractions, but as they approached, the bustling crowd revealed how much busier it was up close. The townsfolk's expressions mixed excitement with a hint of apprehension. Although carnivals were typically about wholesome family fun, this one had clearly seen better days. The rides and booths were dilapidated, the paint peeling and the structures creaking ominously. A large Ferris wheel stood in the background, its seats swaying gently with the breeze, while the carnival music played a slightly discordant tune.

Stan parked the car and retrieved a folding table from the trunk, his face lighting up with nostalgia. "Ah, this takes me back to my childhood!"

"Grunkle Stan, this place is kinda creepy," Dipper remarked, following with boxes in tow.

Stan waved off the concern with a chuckle. "It's just an old, mysterious carnival that popped up overnight without any warning. Sure, it looks a bit rundown, but that’s all part of its charm. It’s old-fashioned, just like me!"

"Definitely on the 'old' part," Mabel whispered to Dipper, barely suppressing her laughter so that Stan couldn’t hear.

They quickly found a spot to set up, and Stan wasted no time unfolding the table and arranging a display of Mystery Shack merchandise, topped with a large sign that beckoned to passersby. Before long, the stall resembled a mini Mystery Shack.

“Grunkle Stan, I thought you gave the Mystery Shack to Soos? Why are you out here trying to sell stuff from the shack?” Dipper asked as he picked up a bobble head.

"I did, but you can take the mystery out of the man, but not the man out of the money-making," Stan quoted with a grin. Dipper gave him a puzzled look, prompting Stan to add, "I like money, kid. And besides, I still get a cut of the profits, so it's a win for me."

Mabel started to jump up and down as she got Stan's attention. “Okay, okay, we helped set up the booth for you. Can we go now? Pleeeeease?”” she asked, clearly excited to go explore the carnival.

Stan waved them off nonchalantly, and the twins dashed into the throng. Mabel beelined for a ring toss game, while Dipper seized the chance to interrogate some carnival workers.

“So, where did you guys come from? How come we didn't hear you guys setting up overnight? There wasn't an announcement about a carnival coming to town until this morning. Seems like bad business practice,” Dipper rambled. The carnival worker, a younger looking man adorned with an old-fashioned striped carnival outfit, grumbled and rolled his eyes at Dipper's barrage of questions.

“Hey, Dipper! Mabel!” a voice called out above the crowd. The twins turned to see Evalin, dressed in a chic simple black dress and her hat on her head, approach them with a basket in her arms.

"Oh, hey," Dipper said, his voice tinged with unease. Evalin smiled warmly as she handed each of them a large muffin and a bottle of milk.

"I made these for you guys," she explained. "Stanley said you only had cereal for breakfast, so I thought I’d make you something a little more filling."

"Ooh! These look amazing!" Mabel exclaimed as she took a huge bite of the muffin and chewed with delight.

"Geez, Mabel! At least say thank you!" Dipper scolded at his sister. "Sorry about that. She really likes sweets. Like, really really likes sweets. Thanks from both of us."

"It's no trouble at all," Evalin replied, her smile lingering. "I'm glad she enjoys them." After a pause, she added, "Speaking of Stanley, have you seen him? I'd like to give him a muffin too."

Dipper pointed to the booth where Stan was doing a salesman pitch. Evalin gave them a quick nod before excusing herself to go over to Stan's booth.

"Step right up, folks! Don’t miss out on the chance to own a piece of the truly unique, the utterly unexplainable, the absolutely unbelievable—Mystery Shack merchandise! From bobbleheads that bobble with mysterious purpose, to t-shirts that might just change your luck, every item is a conversation starter. Deals like these don’t come around often. Get your magical and mysterious souvenirs before they disappear like yesterday’s dreams. Come see for yourself, and remember, every purchase is an investment in wonder!" Stan's voice bellowed out above the crowd. He watched as Evalin approached, basket in hand. “For the pretty hobbit lady, you can have a 5% discount!”

Evalin giggled and shook her head. "As much as I’d love to take you up on that offer, I only have breakfast for you," she replied, pulling out a muffin and milk from her basket. Stan grinned broadly as he accepted them.

"How’s business?" Evalin inquired with genuine interest.

"Eh, could be better," Stan admitted with a shrug. "With all these crazy attractions around, it’s tough to grab people’s attention." He took a big bite of the muffin, his eyes widened in surprise. "Wow! These are pretty damn good! You could sell these, y'know?" he remarked, crumbs tumbling from his lips. "I'd know. After all, I am the best salesman around!"

"Thank you, Stanley. I’m glad you like them," Evalin chuckled. "But I only made enough for you guys, so it looks like everyone else will have to go hungry."

"Damn, too bad for them. These are really damn good," Stan said as he finished the last of his muffin and quickly downed the milk. "They’re definitely missing out on some top-tier stuff."

"Thanks!" he added with a proud grin. "I feel like I could rip people off so much faster now!"

"What?" a passing tourist called out as he overheard Stan. Stan and Evalin exchanged a brief glance.

"You didn't hear squat, ham-bone," Stan grumbled. The tourist shot him a dirty look before walking away. Evalin couldn’t help but giggle at the exchange, and Stan, confused, felt his face warm.

"You thought that was funny?" he asked.

"Ham-bone? Really?” Evalin chuckled. “Besides, did you see the look on his face? Priceless." Stan beamed at the compliment, pleased.

"Well, if you thought that was funny, check out that guy over there," Stan said and pointed to a man with an unusual nose. "Hey, potato nose! Where'd you come from? The potato farm?"

Evalin burst out laughing, her amusement filling the air as Stan reveled in being the center of attention, especially when he could make someone laugh. Surprisingly, Evalin seemed to genuinely appreciate his humor. After a few moments, Evalin managed to regain her composure.

"Here, let me help with your booth. Got a pen and paper?" she asked while she wiped a tear from her eye. Stan glanced around and found a napkin and a pen, handing them to her.

Evalin leaned over the table and quickly drew an odd symbol on the napkin and poked it before handing it back to him. "You got a lighter?"

"Uh, yeah?" Stan pulled out his trusty Zippo.

"When you’re ready, light that sigil on fire," Evalin instructed, her voice steady. Stan looked at her, confused. She put her hand up and added, "please trust me.”

"Lady, I don’t trust anyone, but I do like to light things on fire," Stan said with a grin. He flicked open the lighter and set the napkin alight.

As the fire consumed the symbol, a sudden rush of customers surrounded the booth, eager to buy merchandise. Stan was almost overwhelmed by the influx of sales, while Evalin stood off to the side, watching the chaos unfold with a quiet giggle, satisfied with her work.

“What the hell?” Dipper responded as he watched the entire scene unfold from a distance. “Mabel, did you see that?”

“See what?” Mabel said as she walked up with a giant cone of cotton candy that was bigger than her head.

“Of course you didn't,” Dipper groaned. "Evalin gave Grunkle Stan some paper, he set it on fire, and then suddenly, he was swarmed by customers. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

“Maybe the fire attracted them? Everyone loves a good fire show!” Mabel suggested, though Dipper remained skeptical.

“No, there is definitely something paranormal going on here and we should investigate,” he insisted, starting to head over, but Mabel grabbed his arm.

“Hey, bro, look!” She pointed to a carny walking into a tent that said 'Employees Only', carrying a small, seemingly unconscious Gorney in his arms.

“What the actual hell?” Dipper gasped, momentarily distracted from the earlier mystery. He quickly motioned his sister to follow him into the 'Employees Only' tent.

The twins slipped into the tent after the carny. Inside, they found a space that was much larger than its exterior suggested. The interior was dimly lit, with only a faint light at the far end of a long, cobweb-strewn hallway. Moving cautiously, they tiptoed toward the light, stopping at a threshold concealed by a curtain. They peeked through a small gap.

The room beyond was eerily silent and strangely unsettling. A haunting echo of children's screams seemed to emanate from the walls, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Shelves lined the walls, filled with empty jars.

“Dipper, look!” Mabel whispered urgently.

Dipper's gaze followed her finger and spotted the carny from earlier, although now he looked different, almost transparent with a faint green glow around him. In his arms lay Gorney. The worker carefully placed the child in the center of a large circle drawn on the floor. He then raised his arms, and Gorney began to levitate just off the ground. Suddenly, a blinding light burst forth from the Gorney's chest, shooting upward and ricocheting around the room.

The carny grabbed an empty jar from a shelf and opened it. The light zipped into the jar, continuing to bounce within as faint, muffled screams emanated from it. After securing the lid tightly, Gorney's glowing form faded to transparency and then disappeared entirely. With the jar in hand, the carnival worker vanished through a door at the back of the room.

“Oh man, poor Gorney!” Mabel whispered, covering her mouth.

Dipper’s heart pounded in his chest, unsure what he just witnessed. "Mabel, we have to get out of here and get help," he whispered urgently. Without another word, the twins turned and sprinted back down the hallway.

As they reached the tent's entrance, they sprinted toward Stan's booth, but a sharp, mechanical voice halted them. "You there! Young Tree Twins!" it called out. Turning, the twins saw a fortune teller, a tall figure draped in gypsy garb, confined within a small wooden booth. Her crystal ball flickered with a cheap, artificial light, casting an eerie glow. There was something unsettlingly robotic about her demeanor, yet an inexplicable force drew them closer.

“Listen, lady, we are in a hurry here and don't have any time for-” Dipper started, but Mabel cut him off excitedly.

“Tell me how many boyfriends I'll have in the near future!” Mabel chirped.

“Mabel!” Dipper chided.

“What? I'm not going to waste this opportunity!” Mabel retorted. Before Dipper could say anything more, the fortune teller responded. The crystal ball flickered briefly before the fortune teller answered flatly.

“Four.”

Mabel's eyes widened, a twinkle forming in each as her grin stretched. “Four,” she repeated, delighted by the prediction. Dipper massaged his temples, exasperated, before turning back to the fortune teller.

"Look, lady, whether you're human or robot, we're really in a rush to find our Grunkle, so we're just gonna—" he started, but the fortune teller cut in with a cryptic warning.

“Listen and heed, boy:

The time comes soon, it fast approaches

From the mind that's filled with roaches.

The soul that has lost something which can't be found

Will release a power that is heavily bound.”

Dipper stared, bewildered. "Wait, is this about the carnival? Is something going to happen here?" he asked, his voice tinged with panic.

"Oh, my stars, no," the fortune teller chuckled dismissively. "But beware here:

A man wants to fill the hole of loss for in this place, he is the boss.

For what he wishes for, there's a heavy toll. The price he must pay is that of one's s-” Suddenly, there was a loud crash as a jolt of electricity surged through the fortune teller's body. She froze, silent, her eyes blank. After a few moments, she powered back on, as if nothing happened.

“Huh, I guess she really was a robot,” Mabel said as she tilted her head.

“Um, hello?” Dipper asked, hesitant. The fortune teller's eyes blinked before focusing on him, her gaze almost human.

“Hello, child. Would you like me to tell you your fortune?” she asked, her voice soft and mechanical. Before Dipper could reply, her robotic jaw clattered to the floor, and her body began to slump.

Dipper recoiled. "Uh, no thanks," he said quickly, seizing Mabel's hand. They hurried away, eager to escape the eerie fortune teller. They ducked into a tent marked "Mirror Maze."

"AH!" Dipper yelped as he froze, staring at a figure that looked just like him.

"Geez, Dipper, it’s just a mirror," Mabel said, unimpressed, and started making silly faces at her reflection.

Dipper edged back, his anxiety mounting. "We need to leave," he insisted, turning to find the exit only to be confronted by more mirrors. His panic spiked. He reached for Mabel's hand, but found only air. "Mabel? Mabel! Where are you?!"

Desperately, Dipper backed into one of the mirrors, only to feel a firm grip on his shoulders. Spinning around, he came face-to-face with... himself. But not quite. This version of Dipper was entirely reflective, like the mirrors themselves. As Dipper's eyes darted to other mirrors, he saw even more disturbing versions of himself: one of him looked like a zombie with part of his brain exposed; another Dipper appeared to be melting, as if made of wax in the scorching sun; and another was completely encased in a tree. Each version of himself stepped out of their respective mirrors and began to close in on him, surrounding him on all sides.

In panic, Dipper reached out for help, but his screams became muffled as he was engulfed by the pile of Dippers.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, a hand grabbed his and yanked him out of the suffocating mass. Mabel, battered with bruises and cuts, pulled him toward the entrance.

"Woah, Mabel! What happened to you?!" Dipper exclaimed, his voice filled with panic as he checked her over.

"Bro, all these other Mabels came out of the mirrors and started beating the crap out of me! They looked like me, but they were... so different! This place is totally cray-cray!" Mabel paused for a moment. “Although, one of them had a super cute sweater that I think I'm going to have to make now.”

"Come on, Mabel! We need to warn everyone to get away from this crazy place!" Dipper exclaimed.

The twins dashed through the carnival, arriving breathless at Stan's booth where he was busy selling merchandise and playfully ribbing tourists, much to Evalin's delight. However, upon spotting Dipper and Mabel, Stan’s jovial demeanor vanished. He hurried around the table, parting the crowd to reach his great-niece and nephew.

“Woah! What the hell happened?!” Stan demanded, his eyes wide with shock.

"Grunkle Stan, there’s something seriously wrong with this place!" Dipper exclaimed. "We saw the employees performing some sort of ritual, but they’re not even human—they're like... spectral beings! We saw them kidnap Gorney, who was passed out for some reason, and they extracted some light out of his chest!"

“Yeah!” Mabel added, her voice rising in panic. “Then we went into the Mirror Maze where there was a bunch of Mabels that popped out of the mirrors and started to beat the crap out of me! I barely got out in time to find Dipper and escape!"

Listening intently, Stan’s expression darkened. "The Mirror Maze, huh?" he growled, fists tightening. "Well, I'm about to rack up a whole bunch of bad luck by breaking mirrors, because NO ONE messes with my pumpkin!" With that, he charged toward the maze, a battle cry echoing behind him.

Dipper went to follow but Evalin placed a hand on his shoulder, gently stopping him as she shook her head. “I think it would be best if we didn't disturb him on this one. He is a man on a mission right now. Let's focus on figuring out what's going on here. First, can you show me the tent where the 'spectral beings' were performing their ritual?”

“Uh, that one,” Dipper said, skepticism laced his voice as he pointed to the tent marked “Employees Only”

“Perfect,” Evalin replied with a determined tone. "Pack up Stanley’s booth. It looks like we’re done here." She navigated through the crowd effortlessly, untouched by anyone. Dipper turned his focus to the booth.

"Alright, folks, the Mystery Shack booth is now closed," he announced, ushering people away.

"You don't have to leave, but you can't stay here!" Mabel added, playfully waving her arms to disperse the crowd. The visitors reluctantly began to leave, their disappointment palpable.

After the twins finished packing up the booth, Evalin returned with a handful of unusual herbs that Dipper and Mabel hadn't seen before.

"Mabel, come here, please," Evalin called. Mabel approached, and Evalin inspected her wounds. She chewed the herbs into a paste and applied it to Mabel’s cuts. With a circle of her finger, the cut began to glow. Soon, the wound closed in an instant.

“Ew, gross!” Mabel exclaimed, but her disgust quickly turned to amazement. “Hey, it's gone! Thanks, Evi!”

"I'm just glad you're okay," Evalin responded, smiling warmly.

Dipper watched with a mix of awe and suspicion. "How did you do that?" he asked, scrutinizing his sister's now flawless arm.

Evalin continued her work on Mabel, unaffected by his scrutiny. "Just something I’ve learned over the years," she explained simply.

Before Dipper could probe further, a sudden scream cut through the air. "Oh my god! There's a fire!" someone yelled. They all turned to see flames engulfing the 'Employees Only' tent. Dipper turned his attention to Evalin who pulled her hat down over her eyes so she didn't meet his gaze.

Stan reappeared, covered in cuts and looking as though he had just battled a wild animal, his clothes torn and skin scratched. He watched as people scurried around, trying to put out the fire.

“Woah, what's going on over there?” he asked, pointing toward the burning tent.

"Um, I think it’s best we leave," Evalin suggested quickly, urging them to grab their things. They loaded the car, and Evalin prepared another batch of her herbal paste.

She reached out to apply the mixture to Stan's wounds, but he jerked back. "Whoa, crazy lady! That was just in your mouth!" he protested.

"Relax," she said, frowning slightly. "This will help prevent infection."

"Grunkle Stan, let her do it! She healed my cuts too," Mabel encouraged, pointing to where her wound had been. Stan eyed her skeptically before giving Evalin a reluctant nod. Smiling, Evalin chewed more herbs and applied the paste to his cuts. Stan shuddered as the mixture seeped in, but, just like Mabel's, his wounds healed rapidly.

"There, that should do it," Evalin said, patting his shoulder. "Sorry I can’t numb the pain, but at least this will keep you from getting infected."

"I suppose I should thank you, I guess… So thanks for being gross!" Stan grumbled, half-smiling.

Evalin couldn't help but to laugh. "Grunkle Stan, you can’t just call people gross! That’s rude," Mabel scolded.

"It’s okay, he’s not wrong," Evalin conceded with a laugh, though her expression soon turned serious. "Dipper, about those employees you mentioned—what exactly did you see them doing?"

Dipper took a deep breath before explaining. "There was a carny who took Gorney into that tent, the one that was probably set on fire by you, we will circle back to that another time, and performed some kind of ritual on him to extract a light from his chest. That light freaked out, flying all around the room. Then the carny captured it in a jar, and after that, Gorney just vanished."

Evalin frowned, deep in thought. "Hmm, I might have an idea of what's happening here, but we should talk to one of the carnies to get more information," she murmured, completely ignoring Dipper trying to call her out.

"One creepy carny coming right up!" Stan declared, puffing out his chest. He approached the carny responsible for admissions, cupping his hand over his mouth. "Hey, punk! We've got questions!"

Noticing the determined look in their eyes, the carny tried to escape, but Stan was quick and tackled him to the ground. "Oh, no you don't!" Stan shouted, pinning him down.

"Hey! What the hell is your problem, old man!?" the worker yelled.

Evalin stepped forward, her face shadowed by her hat, and pressed her boot against the carny's hand. A mysterious green glow enveloped his body, revealing his true nature. The carny's alarm was evident, his cover blown.

"Listen, spirit," Evalin commanded firmly. "Tell us who's controlling you. Where is the puppet master here?"

Under Stan's weight, the glowing carny struggled briefly before resigning. "Alright, alright! It's the Ringmaster, Mr. Destori!" he confessed desperately. "He's got us all roped into soul gathering. Please, lady, we're just lowly spirits. Let me go!"

Evalin's expression softened as she knelt beside him, placing her hand on his head. "So be it," she murmured. A bright silver light flared from her hand, illuminating the area.

As soon as the ethereal words left her mouth, the carny faded away, sending Stan tumbling face-first into the ground with a thud. Dipper and Mabel looked up at Evalin who's face was unreadable for a moment.

"Whoa, what did you do?" Mabel asked, her eyes wide.

"I did as he requested; I set him free," Evalin replied, her demeanor softening.

"A little warning next time would be nice," Stan grumbled as he got up, brushing the dirt from himself. "Ugh, I got dirt in my mouth."

"We'll need to circle back to that later," Dipper interjected, shifting the focus back to their original concern. "Did you hear what that guy said? We need to find the Ringmaster. We probably should have asked where this Ringmaster is before letting that spirit go."

“Uh, Dipper?” Mabel pointed towards a trailer parked right outside the entrance labeled “Ringmaster”.

“I hate everything right now,” Dipper sighed, slapping his forehead as they made their way toward the trailer.

Stan led the charge, knocking firmly on the trailer door. The door swung open to reveal a large man, his attire flamboyant—a bright red, blue, and gold striped tailcoat and ribbons cascading from an oversized top hat, his theatrical appearance completed by rosy cheeks and a broad, unsettlingly jolly smile.

"Well, hello there, good folks! How can I assist you on this fine evening?" he greeted warmly.

“We have some questions if you have time, Ringmaster,” Evalin said, her voice smooth yet commanding. The Ringmaster chuckled, a twinkle in his eye, and gestured for them to come inside.

The trailer's interior was a surreal mix of luxury and decay, lit dimly by a dusty chandelier. The air was thick with the scents of incense, leather, cigar smoke, and a faint mustiness.

"Smells like Grunkle Stan’s room," Mabel whispered to Dipper, barely stifling her laughter.

At the heart of the trailer, an ornate desk cluttered with oddities—playing cards, a tarnished pocket watch, bones, charms, and a cracked crystal ball—sat behind a velvet armchair. Heavy curtains draped the windows, sealing off any natural light.

"If I'd known I'd have guests, I would've tidied up a bit!" the Ringmaster joked, rubbing his neck.

“That won't be necessary, sir,” Evalin replied firmly as she locked eyes with him. “I have only one question, if you will. What are you doing with the souls you've stolen, beast?”

The Ringmaster visibly paled, tugging at his collar. “What? I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, his composure completely slipping under Evalin’s icy stare.

“Someone should really knock out your teeth for lying like that,” Evalin retorted sharply, then nodded subtly at Stan. He understood the signal immediately.

“Finally, a reason to punch a carny!” Stan exclaimed, and with a swift motion, he sent the Ringmaster sprawling to the floor with a solid right hook.

“Whoa! I don’t think we need to start beating him up, guys!” Mabel intervened, her eyes wide.

However, the Ringmaster rose, his now glowing green body floating slightly, green ooze dripping from his mouth. He spat it out with a sneer, his friendly demeanor gone. "Really? That’s how you want to play?" he growled. A gust of wind began swirling, gathering strength and forcing them closer together. “Let’s see how you handle my underground Maze of Death!”

“That is such a lame stereotypical name!” Mabel shouted over the gust.

The Ringmaster growled. Frustrated, he yanked the run out from under them, revealing a large, gaping hole. With a collective yell, Dipper, Mabel, Evalin, and Stan plummeted into the darkness below. As they fell, Evalin and Stan were able to grab the kids, pulling them close before they hit the ground hard. Evalin landed on her back with a pain yelp while Stan was able to take the landing well.

“Whoa, Evi! Are you okay?” Mabel asked, concerned as she got off of her. Evalin used the wall to slowly get to her feet, dusting herself off and adjusting her hat.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she replied, rolling her shoulder. “I'm tougher than I look.”

“That's great and all, but how do we get out of this dark hellhole?” Stan muttered, peering up into the darkness above them.

“Looks like we fell right into the Ringmaster’s trap,” Dipper groaned.

“Literally,” Mabel added with a sigh.

The area around them was pitch black. With a quick snap of her fingers, Evalin summoned a small flame from her fingertip, illuminating a narrow, chilly hallway just tall enough for them to walk through. She covered her hand slightly so they couldn't see where the flame was coming from. Suddenly, a loud, booming voice echoed through the air.

“Now you are all trapped in my newly named Maze of Lost Souls.... forever!” the Ringmaster taunted.

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Still a lame name! Try not going with cliché villain names!” she shouted, her voice echoing into the distance.

“Mabel, how about not antagonizing the entity that has us trapped here, huh?” Dipper chided as he pulled out his flashlight from his vest pocket.

“Alright, listen up,” Evalin interjected. “We need to find the source of his power that way we can break the Ringmaster's grip on this place. Look for glowing spots in the walls. That'll lead us where we need to go.”

Before they could take a step, Dipper held up his hands to stop them. “How do you even know that? Just who the hell are you?” he demanded, looking at her intently.

Evalin sighed, meeting his determined gaze. “Listen, Dipper, I'm just trying to get us out of here and hopefully save your Gorney friend, alright?” she said in a calming tone. “Please, just trust me.”

“Dipper, she seems to know what she’s talking about, and she has a plan,” Mabel supported. “What other choice do we have?”

Dipper looked to Stan for guidance, who shrugged. “Hey, I’m just as confused as you are, kid. But I’m with Mabel on this one. Let’s let the weird forest lady work her magic and get us out of here, yeah?”

Evalin stiffened a little before looking over at Dipper. “Please, just let me get you out of here and I will tell you some of my survival stories, okay?”

Dipper didn't respond right away. He stared her down before nodding, trusting her for the time being. Stan barked out a laugh and slapped Dipper on the back hard enough to make him lurch forward. “Kid, if you just wanna hear some survival stories, I can tell you a million of them! Did I ever tell you kids about the time I survived by navigating through a swamp using nothing more than three rubber chickens and a harmonica? Let me tell you, that was not a good time!”

They began walking the dimly lit halls, listening to Stan's exaggerated tales as they moved. His tales surprisingly kept up their spirits, making Evalin chuckle from time to time. It was hard to tell if she believed him or not but it didn't matter. Even Mabel cracked in some jokes to keep the mood light.

After a while, Evalin suddenly stopped everyone in their tracks, narrowing her eyes as if she sensed something. “Wait! Here's something,” she exclaimed, pointing at the wall.

“I don't see anything,” Dipper said, squinting.

“Look closer,” Evalin urged, confused why he didn't see what she saw. Dipper leaned in, inspecting the wall, but still didn't notice anything unusual. Evalin shook her hand, the flame fizzling out before she rubbed her hand down her face.

“Oh, right,” she murmured. She put her hand on the dirt wall and started to dig. Mabel soon jumped in to help, chanting, “Diggy diggy hole!”

Dipper aimed his flashlight at Evalin as she dug fervently, her hands growing increasingly raw. He scanned the area for something to aid her but came up empty. With a deep breath, he let out a battle cry and hurled himself against the dirt wall. Everyone's eyes widened as Dipper broke through.

“Damn, kid!” Stan applauded. “Nice one! That's how you do it!”

“Look at you go, bro-bro!” Mabel added, following him through the new opening.

Evalin smirked at Dipper, a playful lilt in her tone. “I'm taking some credit. I did dig most of the way through,” she said, wiping her hands on her dress.

“But I'm the one who actually broke through,” Dipper grumbled.

Ignoring Dipper's comment, they all ducked through the gap and discovered a room on the other side. It was furnished with a bed, toys, and numerous open jars near the corner. In the center of the room, a small child floated just above the carpet.

The child, with a round face and faintly glowing green skin, was trying to open a jar, unaware of their presence until Mabel spoke up.

“Hey, there's a kid in here!” Mabel's voice made the ghostly child jump, almost dropping the jar.

“Ah! Please don't take me away!” the ghost child shrieked, his hands trembling.

Evalin held up her hands gently. “Hey there, little guy. What are you doing in a spooky place like this?” she asked gently, but the child recoiled. Turning to Mabel for help, Evalin suggested, “Hey, you've got a gift for talking to people, right? You're a cute girl. Could you try talking to him?”

Mabel stepped forward, her voice cheerful. “Hello, friend! This is a nice deep underground hideout you got going on here. What's a little guy like you doing down here all by yourself?”

The child hesitated, his glow dimming as he looked at her. “I... I just wanted friends. It's so lonely here. Daddy sends me friends, but they never stay long.” He hesitated as he looked at Mabel and then over at Dipper. “You seem different. Are you here to play with me?” the child asked, hopeful.

Mabel half shrugged. “Sure, kid, we would love to! However, we need to get back home first. Do you know the way out?”

The child's face scrunched up, hurt turning to anger. “I thought you were here for me! I don't want you to leave me here alone! I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE ANYMORE!” he shrieked, causing the ground and walls to shake violently.

“Hey! Hey! She didn't say we couldn't play, man!” Dipper interjected, trying to calm the child. “If you help us out, we can come back and play with you, for sure!”

Dipper glanced at Evalin, mouthing, 'Get us out of here!'

“Well, I'm not playing with this little bast-” Stan began, only to be silenced by Mabel's elbow.

The shaking ceased and the child eyed them uncertainly. “Really? You would come back and play with me?”

“Of course! We are buddies now!” Mabel assured him with a bright smile. The child scrutinized them for a moment as if assessing their sincerity, then returned the smile.

“Alright! Follow me!” he instructed as he floated towards a door on the far wall, still carrying the jar from before. As they traveled, Evalin leaned down towards Dipper.

“Hey, is that your Gorney friend?” she asked in a whisper. Dipper looked past her to see the jar clearly. Inside indeed was Gorney, his round face glowing within the bright light of the jar. Dipper met Evalin's gaze and gave a subtle nod. Evalin focused on the jar, silently formulating a plan to retrieve it.

They trailed the ghost child through a labyrinth of turns until they reached a corridor bathed in a faint light from the end. The child stopped and pointed toward the light.

“There you go,” he chimed playfully. “The land of the living!”

“Oh, thank god, I can't wait to see the sun again,” Mabel said, hurrying forward. But Evalin grabbed her arm, pulling her back. She traced her finger along the wall and around the frame of the opening, then reached up to tug at its edge. A ripping sound echoed through the corridor as she peeled back a dark void that obscured their path.

“Aw, man! You figured it out!” the ghost child laughed as he floated in place, kicking his feet playfully. “I wanted to keep you here with me FOREVER!”

Unable to contain his frustration any longer, Dipper lashed out with a right hook, striking the ghost child squarely in the face. Everyone froze, their eyes wide in shock. Stan and Mabel quickly recovered, their initial horror turning into excitement.

“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” they chanted, fists pumping in the air.

Evalin raised an eyebrow, her tone incredulous. “Really, Dipper? Beating up a little ghost kid?”

Realizing the gravity of his actions, Dipper's heart sank. He looked down at the ghost child, who was now whimpering softly. "Oh, uh... sorry, buddy. I think I went too far," he stammered, a wave of guilt washing over him.

The ghost child spat up some ectoplasm, standing shakily as tears welled in his eyes.

“Nonsense!” Stan chimed in, clapping Dipper on the back. “That little bastard was about to get us all killed! He had it coming! I just wish I had thrown the punch myself! Nice work, kid. Give him one more quick jab for your Grunkle Stan, would ya?”

Before Dipper could respond, a loud, booming voice echoed through the hall. "HOW DARE YOU LAY A HAND ON MY SON!" The Ringmaster appeared suddenly, his presence commanding as he scooped the ghost child into his arms. He inspected his son for injuries, then turned a fierce glare on the group.

“Dude, come on! He was literally trying to kill us!” Dipper shouted.

Evalin swiftly moved to intercept, gliding across the space with a lightness that made it seem as though her feet barely grazed the floor. She closed the gap to the ghosts quicker than they could comprehend, gently placing her hand on each of them before she began to speak.

As soon as the ethereal words left her mouth, a brilliant flash of light enveloped the room, and the ghostly figures of the Ringmaster and the child vanished with an anguished cry. When Dipper, Mabel, and Stan finally dared to open their eyes, they found that the ghosts had disappeared. Evalin stood alone, calm and composed, in the space where the specters had just been.

“How did you—?” Dipper began, but his question was cut off by a violent shaking of the ground.

“The spirits that were binding this place are gone, and this maze is collapsing!” Evalin yelled over the rumble. “We need to get out of here, now!”

As they turned to run, Dipper glanced back to see the void in the ground had vanished. Not wanting Dipper to fixate on the missing hole, Evalin quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him along, moving at a pace he struggled to match. They narrowly escaped as the tunnels crumbled behind them. Catching their breath outside, they realized they were just outside the carnival, or what remained of it, as flames engulfed most of the structures.

“Oh, yeah. Totally forgot about that fire,” Evalin muttered under her breath, adjusting her hat. “Oops.”

“We didn't even figure out the mystery behind all of that crazy ghost carnival biz!” Mabel lamented, throwing her hands up in frustration. Stan cleared his throat, pulling a weathered newspaper clipping from his pocket.

“Hey, uh, I grabbed this while we were in that maniac's trailer,” he explained, handing it to Dipper, who began to read aloud:

**Missing Children After Carnival Accident:**

Following the incident where children began to vanish in the Mirror Maze, The Enchanted Carnival closed down. Ringmaster Lugini Destori expressed regret for the lost children, stating, [“We are deeply saddened for the lost souls of those lovely children. May they safely find their way home. We are officially closing down the carnival until the children are found!”]

Destori’s body was later found by the roadside, covered in blood, and his carnival destroyed. The missing children were never found, and the investigation went cold. Police had no leads, though bones—believed to belong to the Ringmaster’s son, the first disappearance—were found on the carnival’s original grounds. This discovery could not be officially linked to the other disappearances.

“Hey! Isn’t that the ghost kid we saw?” Mabel asked, pointing at a picture of Destori’s son in the clipping. They all crowded around Dipper to see.

“Sure as shit looks like it,” Stan confirmed, peering at the photo with narrowed eyes.

“Another case of tortured souls,” Evalin murmured regretfully.

“Speaking of tortured souls, we didn’t even save Gorney!” Dipper suddenly realized. Evalin turned away briefly, fiddling with her dress, then faced them again, holding out the jar containing Gorney’s soul. Dipper stared, astonished. “When did you—?”

“Before the ghosts vanished, I managed to snag the jar to save your Gorney friend,” Evalin explained, her smile bright. She twisted the lid open, releasing a burst of light that was trapped inside. The light fluttered around before zipping toward the remnants of the carnival and diving into the ground where the 'Employees Only' tent once stood. Suddenly, Gorney’s head popped up from the ashes, a bright smile on his face as he threw his hands up.

"I've been twaumatized!"

< Chapter 1 // Chapter 3 >

[multifanidiot]

Some tmagp ep10 live blogging I guess?

Am I the only one or dies the interviewer sound nervous, worked even?

Oh hoohooo a whole TV show filled with tmas 15 fears references?

Not gonna lie hearing that ominous music and that laughter together? Lowkey webs theatre

Oh the irony, going from let's make a joke about how this guy dosent know what children watch/ like to we made something that children watch and like

Also I think that that anatomy class students would really like bonzo

Waaaait what if there'll be a moment where Colin goes completely nuts and snashes and crashes all the electronics and computers ? I'd like to see that

"What are we looking for bad vibes? Bc I found them oh nvm it's just a dead rat" alice and "dw ill know it when I see it" Sam. What a dead rat?

God! Alice sounds so tired and fed up

Oh my beloved domain of the stranger is back. All the carnival music and voices and laughter and singing an

Oh here goes gwen consequences of my actions and pfft ofc I have what it takes for this job bouchard

The irony (again) that the man that created (maybe not really) the puppet, became the puppet

Alice as a character really intrigues me bc I don't really like her and idk why people like her that much. I mean I can see the appeal but idk she's just annoying but then there's a scene where idk what happens but I really do like I don't even know what, the performance? I guess?

Also she sounds like she discovered everything and/or is one or several steps ahead of Sam's discovery and she tries desperately to shoo him fro. The trail he's taken. She really sound like she's gonna brush crying and confess to what she know idk

Ok it's time to admit that I am absolutely amazed by the sound effects. I mean in tma too. I had some experience with sound effects and I find it very struggling to find sounds that perfectly fit. And this, this podcast(and some podcasts in general) make the sound so good, they're perfectly fit together <3

Also at the end alice and Sam's voices started fading as they left, does that mean one of them lost theyr phone?

[nbrook29]

Ahhh, I love your writing!

67- “It’s you, it’s always been you.”

Only if you want, thks :)

Hello anon :) Thank you, you're very sweet 😚

Here it goes, I hope it doesn't suck, my writing vibes have been off 😢:

67. It's you, it's always been you.

* * *

“Man, this thing sucks. I was promised hot chicks from the dance school and I can’t see even one, what the fuck.”

Robbe turns his eyes to Moyo, shooting him a half-hearted apologetic smile, his thoughts far away from his friends bickering next to him as they cross the gate to the carnival. It’s getting late, the sky had turned dark before they even left their houses and the place greets them with an onslaught of neons from every corner, cheesy song playing in the background, and Robbe can’t help but hear a particular deep voice commenting on the music being shit in his head.

He sighs, trying to chase the thought away and not go there again, plastering a fake-cheeriness on his face as he suggests they all get a beer and find a table somewhere. It takes 15 minutes of standing in a line to finally get the drinks and in the end, they have to resort to sitting on the grass because the place is packed. It looks like every single kid from their school is here tonight along with half of the city, to be exact, and Robbe snorts to himself when he thinks back to the broers’ plans this morning, talking about finally making a move on the dance girls. Good luck trying to find them.

They’re in the middle of arguing about which attraction they should go check out first when Robbe’s phone pings with a message.

Noor: ROBBE

Noor: !!!!!!!!!!!!

Robbe: Wha???

Noor: LILY HAS BEEN FLIRTING WITH ME THE WHOLE EVENING

Noor: AND WE KISSED

Robbe: Whoa you go girl! 💪🏻💜

Robbe: Told you she's into you 😎😎😎

Noor: 🙄 whatever

Noor: I'M SO HAPPY 💖💖💖

Robbe: Haha I can see that, you only use black hearts, she must be special 😜

Noor: 🖕🏻

Noor: She isssss ❤

Robbe: I'm so happy for you ❤

Noor: 🖤🖤🖤

Noor: Is your lover boy at the carnival? 😏

Robbe: I don't have a lover boy 🙄

Robbe: And no he's not

Noor: Aww 😕

Robbe: It doesn't matter anyway

Robbe: It's better this way

Noor: For fuck's sake Robbe I'mma spank you into submission one day if you don't stop with this bullshit

Robbe: Kinky

Noor: I'm serious 🤨

Noor: Please please please promise me if you see him tonight you'll talk to him???

Robbe: Can't you just let it go??

Noor: Hell will freeze over before I'll let this go

Noor: Consider yourself warned

Robbe: Why are you so pressed about this jesus

Noor: Because I want you to be as happy as me!

Robbe: What do you want me to do exactly? I can't make him like me Noor

Robbe: It's done okay?

Robbe: I got my answer I told u

Robbe: I'm serious let it go

Noor: Baby 🥺

Robbe: I'm gonna be okay

Robbe: Go now

Robbe: I'm Lily's getting jealous over your texting 😉

Noor: Ugh okay

Noor: Ttyl

Noor: I love you 🖤

Robbe: 🖤

Under the chat with Noor there’s another message that makes him feel a pang in his heart.

Sander: Are you okay?

He scrubs his face and starts working on that fake smile again when Aaron shouts, “Ferris Wheel! Please you guys, I’ve always wanted to go on a ride!”

Moyo and Jens make some protesting sounds, claiming it’s boring as fuck if you don’t go with somebody to make out with up there. Robbe’s about to join the conversation when he sees a flicker of white hair somewhere in the crowd, and his heart starts beating faster despite him trying to stay indifferent, but when he blinks, it’s gone. He curses under his breath for being such a lovesick fool.

“Robbe? Go with me? Please?”

Robbe widens his eyes at Aaron’s pleading face, and shakes his head with an uncomfortable laughter. “No way, dude, I’m not a fan of this kind of stuff.”

“It’s not even that high! And it’s super safe, look!” Aaron waves vaguely at the Ferris Wheel, his eyes getting bigger and bigger with each “please”.

“Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I wanna try it out before I take Amber there, duuh!”

Robbe glances at the wheel with reluctance in his eyes, weighing his options before finally huffing a long-suffering “okay” at Aaron because he’s a pushover. It sucks, but he made his peace with that.

They leave Moyo and Jens chilling on the grass and go stand in the surprisingly short line to the wheel, Aaron’s practically bouncing on his feet when he’s telling Robbe about his plans to take Amber to the carnival tomorrow. Robbe indulges him and holds back any comments that he has at the tip of his tongue about the girl as they slowly move towards the front of the line, finally reaching the fence and paying for the admission.

Once they’re seated and reality hits in, Robbe can feel a weird feeling slowly encompassing his body and he realizes this is a bad idea. He hates highs. What the fuck is he doing on a Ferris Wheel?!

It seems like a similar thought is crossing Aaron’s mind because the boy is ghost white as he suddenly stands up and starts getting out of the cart.

“Fuck, man, I don’t think I can do this, it’s fucking scary, I’m sorry!”

And then he leaves, leaving Robbe gapping after him in shock. Before he can react and get out himself, the cart shakes with additional weight dropping on it, and when Robbe turns his head back to see what is going on, he’s met with an unsure smile, gracing the most beautiful face he’s ever seen.

“Do you mind if I take his spot?”

Robbe keeps staring as Sander pushes the railing down, making himself comfortable before looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah, um, sure,” he squeaks out, super aware of how close they’re sitting, his already racing heart now threatening to fall out of his chest. Sander shoots him a grateful smile and runs a hand through his hair and messes it up, almost making Robbe whimper with how good he looks.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He needs to pull himself together.

The wheel starts moving and for a second Robbe forgets all about who’s sitting next to him, gripping the railing tightly and taking deep breaths, at the same time trying to remain cool and unaffected.

“You didn’t answer my text.”

Sander’s words break the cloud of fear that is currently fogging Robbe’s brain and he peeks at him, noticing how he bites on his bottom lip, looking almost shy. His eyes carry some vulnerability in them that doesn’t fit the image of Sander Robbe has in his head - always cool and composed, witty, flirty, edgy artist who makes girls and boys swoon after him.

He swallows and tries to figure out an excuse. “I’m sorry, I read it, but I was super busy and I completely forgot.” He cringes as soon as the words are out when he sees a glimpse of hurt passing Sander’s features. Great, now he sounds like an asshole.

“Oh, it’s okay, don’t worry,” Sander replies, pretending to be unaffected. “Do you, um, do you wanna hang out tomorrow maybe? To make up for last Thursday?” His voice sounds full of hope and Robbe hates himself for having to shoot him down again, but he needs to take care of his own heart first.

“Sander, I-, look, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

There it is. The smile slowly but surely slipping off Sander’s face and hurting Robbe in the process. But this is the right thing to do. He knows that.

They’re almost at the top when Sander speaks again. “Can you tell me why?” He asks softly.

Robbe fights with himself whether this is the right place to come clean, but he can’t let him think there’s something wrong with him.

So he takes a deep breath and squeezes out, “Because I like you more than just a friend and I can’t pretend I’m not.”

Before Sander can answer, he beats him up to it. “And I know now that you have Younes, I saw you guys, it’s okay, I understand, he’s great, I’m happy for you guys, really, I-”

The wheel comes to a sudden stop, making the cart shake ominously, and Robbe’s heart lodges itself in his throat as he realizes the horrible truth: they’re stuck. At the top. So so high up.

He’s gonna be sick.

He starts breathing quickly, verging on hyperventilating when he feels Sander’s hands on his cheeks, and he registers his soothing voice telling him to calm down and that it’s going to be okay.

“Are you scared of heights?”

Robbe nods shakily, blushing beet red at the situation, feeling embarrassed at his state. When he manages to open his eyes, he’s met with a set of green looking back at him, worried and compassionate.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Sander takes one deep exaggerated breath to encourage him to do the same, and Robbe tries his hardest to follow him. There are voices coming from the ground telling them they need to stay calm and that they’re gonna be down in no time, as the technicians are already working on solving the issue.

But Robbe doesn’t fully register them, too focused on how close Sander is sitting now, their thighs pressed together, how he can smell his aftershave and see his moles clearer than ever before.

There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop enjoying this because Sander has a boyfriend and this is wrong, but then Sander rests his forehead against his, shortcutting any thoughts whatsoever.

“I don’t know what you saw, but Younes is my best friend. We’re not together, Robbe.”

“But, you were all touchy and,” he swallows. “I saw you kissing. In the movies.”

A small frown appears on Sander’s forehead. “We’re comfortable with each other, sure, but there has never been any kissing. Younes is straight. And taken, by the way.”

And, okay, weird. Could he really misjudge the situation so badly? Sure, he didn’t see them kissing per se, but they were leaning towards each other? Sort of? He thinks?

Fuuuuuck.

“Oh wow, I think, um, I misinterpreted some stuff,” he admits, embarrassed, eyes downcast as he feels Sander nodding against his forehead with a tiny smile.

“Quite a lot of stuff, actually. Like, for example, that I like you like a friend.”

“That’s a lot of like in one sentence,” Robbe blurts off like an idiot, making Sander let out that adorable snort of his that pulls a quiet chuckle out of Robbe too.

“Well, there’s a lot of liking involved when it comes to my feelings for you,” he says, eyes shining with sincerity, and he glances the tip of his nose against Robbe’s, the gesture liquifying his insides.

“There’s a lot of liking involved when it comes to my feelings for you as well,” he whispers back, too shy for his own liking, but Sander just has that effect on him. It doesn’t matter though because suddenly the boy’s lips stretch in a beaming smile that’s so radiant it almost makes the night look brighter.

They’re staring at each other with similar expressions, sharing air as their foreheads remain glued together, and then Sander closes the distance between them, capturing Robbe’s lips in a soft kiss that makes his sigh, hands letting go of the railing and traveling on their own accord to Sander’s jaw. His head is spinning for a totally different reason now, and when he feels the tip of Sander’s tongue grazing his bottom lip he opens his mouth right away, going pliant under his touch.

He can’t quite believe what’s happening, how just half an hour ago he was feeling sorry for himself, thinking Sander is officially off limits, and now he can feel the boy’s secure hold on his waist and taste the sugary sweet cotton candy on his tongue.

“Hey, you’re breathing normally now,” Sander notes happily, his lips red and glistening as he breaks the kiss.

He looks even more gorgeous now and Robbe can’t help himself as he runs his thumb across his plump bottom lip and scores a tiny kiss there too, pulling a blush out of him.

“So, does that mean you will go out with me now?” Sander flutters his eyelashes at him, a pout on his lips as he puts his hands together in a “please” sign, and he looks so cute that Robbe can’t do more but nod, giggling when Sander hisses a satisfied yes! under his breath.

“Hey, no laughing, I’ve been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw you,” Sander tsks at him, eyes narrowed in seriousness that would look legit if his smile was any smaller.

“You have?”

“Yeah. I was like, how the fuck am I supposed to convince the most beautiful boy on the planet to go on a date with me?”

Robbe bites his lip bashfully, aware of the heat spreading on his neck under Sander’s words.

“I was sure you didn’t like me like that, you know,” he reaches to entangle their fingers, patting himself on the back for winning with his nervousness.

Sander squeezes his hand. "And I thought you were into somebody else, made me so sad."

"What? Fuck no, it's you, it's always been you," he rushes to reassure him, blushing again at his eagerness, but it earns him another kiss, this one just when the cart lurches forward as the Wheel comes alive again.

It painfully reminds him of where they are, but before he can fully freak out Sander brings him closer to his chest, acting like a man on a mission and not stopping with his mindblowing kisses until their cart safely reaches the ground.

"We made it," he murmurs, placing the last lingering kiss against Robbe's lips and the boy thanks him for being his knight in a shining armor.

"Hey, Sander?"

"Yes?"

"Just promise me our date won't take place at the fair. I won't survive another ride."

[mytastessuck]

Gorillaz: Humanz

SHere it is, the comeback tour! I was so excited for this album, I sucked all the singles that came out before I could download the album. This album basically reminded me of the reasons I love Gorillaz. All of them. One particular reason a little too well...

Okay, let's get the elephant out of the room. This album is a bit controversial among the community for playing a little too hard to one of Gorillaz' strengths: showcasing cool artists. There are more than a few tracks where Damon doesn't even show up. Hell, my favorite track doesn't even have it on him. Me, I honestly don't care about that as long as I get to hear good music but for the rest of you die hard Gorillaz fans? Just think of this as a compilation album like NOW That's What I Call Alternative/Indie Hip-Hop/R&B/Electronica/Pop.

See? Rolls off the tongue. Now let's get started.

1. Intro: I Switched My Robot Off

Nice. Real ominous. Gorillaz really know how to build up a presentation. Feels like you're walking through the doors of the doors to the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. Anybody remember Legends of the Hidden Temple? Were there doors on that stage? Anyway, awesome.

10/10

2. Ascension

Holy hell, Vince really knocks it out of the park on this one. Different beat, nice flow, social commentary...He was not fucking around on this track. Damon's barely on the track but Vince makes up for it with his existential rhymes and chorus back-up. Man, Gorillaz has gotta take advantage of gospel more often.

9/10

3. Strobelite

That didn't take long, did it? Anyway, this is my favorite song on the album. Peven has an incredible voice, the music psychically compels you to dance and...that's it. Sometimes, well usually with me, you just need to go with Simple Yet Awesome. Have a good voice and a good beat. This song has both and I'm pretty sure that one day, a scientist will hear this song and will be inspired by it to cure diabetes.

100/10

4. Saturn Barz

Ah, the lead single from the album. Remember the 360 house, everyone? Yeah, you remember. Glad to have Gorillaz welcome back Reggae into their line-up with Popcaan manning the helms. He and Damon tag-team the eardrums with the power of dread as the instrumentation makes you feel like you're in a haunted house. Welcome back, guys.

25/10

5. Momentz

WELCOME BACK, GUYS! De La Soul returns to say some real shit about time and how you should, respect and stuff. Seriously, awesome track. Kicks so much ass and you can even dance to it as you wonder if this MOMENT will be one of the last times when you feel really happy. Nice...

9/10

6. Interlude: The Non-Conformist Oath

Hey, Steve Martin! I like to imagine a bunch of assholes listening to this and...just not getting it. Not us though. We get it. We're smart. Smarter than those guys...

10/10

7. Submission

This song had to grow on me but years after I got the album and after I learned to appreciate Danny Brown a little more like all humans should, this song became one of my favorites off the album. Don't worry Kelela, he doesn't carry the whole song. Her voice is so beautiful that it can calm a charging rhino or a coked-up Connor McGregor. These make the song a lot classier than it had any right being.

90/10

8. Charger

She's beauty, she's Grace...she's also Jones. Man, I haven't heard from this woman since Corporate Cannibal and she has clearly been keeping up practice. God, how can a woman's laughter both scare and arouse me? Damon's no slouch on this track either, singing about the monster that keeps us all tethered: the charger. I kid, I kid. Hey, did Damon really get a boner on stage when he sung this or are you guys messing with me? Message me if you know.

9/10

9. Interlude: Elevator Going Up

On a recent trip, I tried to go up the elevator but it was card-activated so a desk lady had to help me. That's it.

8/10

10. Andromeda

Damon has to do the heavy lifting here and his muscles have not completely wasted away from lack of use. He tells us to take in our heart and you know what? I did. I took this song directly in my heart...and my playlist.

50/10

11. Busted And Blue

Yeah, this song is a bummer. A good bummer. It's Broken's younger brother who joined the army to make his parents proud after he couldn't get into university like his older brother who managed to form a separate family with his squad and began to think that maybe he was good enough after all before his squad gets bombed and, as he lies legless dying painfully on the ground, a blue butterfly land directly on his outstretched busted hand...

Directed by Mervyn LeRoy

10/10

12. Interlude: Talk Radio

You ever wonder how we get voices in machines? I know you think it's a complicated process but I know a dude who picked up the radio in his electric fan once. Think about it.

8/10

13. Carnival

Again, this song had to grow on me but one day, while I was thinking about Gamzee for a godforsaken reason, I thought "Geez, he talks about the Dark Carnival and the Dark Carnival isn't even some of ICP's best days. What's a good song about a carnival?" Anyway, Anthony can spin a person's mind and mind around just by singing. He's wild.

80/10

14. Let Me Out

Hey, wouldn't it be funny if Mavis was Vince's mother? She's not but that would be funny as well as cool. Her and Pusha T bang on the walls of this track as they rant about the politics at the time of this song. Yeah, they're talking about Trump. That car horn can't protect you forever, you orange bastard.

9/10

15. Interlude: Penthouse

Dear Penthouse: Hi. Does anyone check in on you, just you? I'm here to say I think you're important and you provide a necessary outlet for men to brag about being perverts. At least before the Youtube comment section existed.

Thanks for everything,

mytastessuck

8/10

16. Sex Murder Party

Ooooo, this track puts me in a funky mood. Like, there's a part but there's sex there...and MURDER. So you know it's an awesome party. Kick-ass, right? I know it's kick-ass. Keep dancing, people.

11/10

17. She's My Collar

Pretty sexy song. Gotta love people vauging about being used in a song. That's why we love Offspring, that's why we love Damon on his knees onstage. Hey, there was a post that said Noodle wrote this song about her girlfriend. That was an excellent post. Well done.

9/10

18. Interlude: The Elephant

I SAID GET OUT OF HERE, YOU BASTARD!

8/10

19. Hallelujah Money

Ah, the technical first single. Remember when they said that they weren't going to put this song on the album? Anyway, this is exactly the song we needed after The Incident occurred. Benjamin manages to calm down an entire populace while Damon just fearfully wonders what our future will be like...and he's in the UK. This song is one long terrifying lullaby to an entire country...until the end, anyway.

75/10

20. We Got The Power

A great way to remind listeners that no matter what's happening, no matter who's in charge, we have the power change everything. An excellent message for people who were still recovering from The Incident.

10/10

21. Interlude: New World

Okay, the bonus tracks. Should be nothing special here, right? Just some B-sides and I've never shown favoritism towards B-sides, right?

8/10

22. The Apprentice

A nice song from the same Rag n' Bone Man who brought us "Human". Zebra manages to lay down some nice rhymes as Ray BLK backs them both up with the force of her voice. These guys should form a team with how well they work together. Oh, they should make a virtual band! All they need to do is find an artist...

9/10

23. Halfway To The Halfway House

A very nice song if a bit overshadowed by the others on the album. Still, Peven can't be beat when it comes to crooning and he raises a song from a solid C to a B.

8/10

24. Out of Body

This song had to grow on me also but when it did...lord, this song is weird. Hypnotic suggestions, telephone tones, the song starts then Zebra jumps in to help then who is this person?! Why are people applauding?! Who are you people?! Why are there so many crows gathering outside my house?!

60/10

25. Ticker Tape

Well well well, look who's back. Damon returns with his old friend Kali to join the accuser of the vain Carly Simon to beg us to stay on the album. Sorry Damon, but I got places to do and people to go. There's nothing you can do to convince me to stick around after how long this album already is.

9/10

26. Circle of Friendz

Huh. Seems like a riot is going on. Weird for Gorillaz to get this real. What, this guy is just going to keep saying Circle of Friendz again and again? Is this supposed to affect me? Get real. It'll take a lot more than a nice voice and implications to...

To...

...

...Maybe I should listen to the album again.

11/10

Album score: 25/10

Damn, that took a while. Shouldn't be the case next week when we cover The Now Now. See you then!

[danetobelieve]

Escape Doom || Layla and Winston

When: 28/09/2020 Who: @laylacooke & @danetobelieve Where: Escape Doom Summary: Winston and Layla try to have some fun. They don’t succeed. Warnings: gore content warning

It had been a good two months since she had spent time with Winston, and for that, Layla felt bad. But today was their day. She was going to catch up and find out what had been going on in their life and maybe get the scoop on them and Rio. And what better way to bond than at an escape room aptly named Escape Doom. It was one adventure she had yet to experience and as she waited outside for Winston to arrive, she couldn’t help but google the place on her phone to see what it was all about. The reviews online had been mixed, but mostly on the good side, and it was an escape room. It’s not like they would be trapped forever, and the carnival had left town several nights ago, so she knew for a fact, it had nothing to do with that creepy place. Picking up on their scent, the teenage werewolf put her phone away and waited for them to arrive.

Winston was feeling cautiously optimistic, they weren’t sure if things were really going to keep running this smoothly. This was White Crest after all. To be perfectly honest it was pretty rare that anything really ran smoothly for more then a week here. But Winston was not one to complain about a good thing. As they arrived at Escape Doom, Winston had to admit that they weren’t sure if this place was the right thing for them, but they were all about trying new things and hopefully Layla would enjoy it too. Waving, they smiled as they strode over. “This place looks … great,” they raised their eyebrows wondering why they had suggested this place and not somewhere that was slightly less ominous. “Are you doing okay?” Winston asked as they made their way into the building. 

Layla waved as she saw Winston get closer. Escape rooms had been something she had wanted to try before, but had never got the chance. White Crest probably hadn’t been the ideal spot to try such an intense game, but then again, she couldn’t keep living her life in fear or regret. Giving the building a once over at Winston’s comment, she laughed, “It’s got character. I’ll give it that much. And nothing could be as bad as that nightmarish carnival that was just here, right?” She followed them inside, “I’m doing, okay.” She didn’t feel like mentioning she had been arrested. Of course this was a small town, so there was a good chance Winston already knew. “What about you? How are things with Rio?” She looked back to them with a smile.

Working in the WCPD didn’t mean that Winston knew everything or even anything about who had been arrested or not, so far they hadn’t heard of any run ins that Layla had had with the law. “Of course not, the fact that this is a staple part of White Crest isn’t terrifying either, nor is the fact that this place quite literally has Doom in the title.” Winston was doing their best to be glib, whether or not that was really the most sensible thing for them to be doing wasn’t something that they were particularly considering. “Rio?” Winston shrugged and smiled, “They’re good, we’re taking things real slow, but it’s good.” There was no rush. Winston stepped inside of the building and ordered them two tickets. “What sort of game do you want to play today?” the guy behind the counter asked curiously. “Shit, I hadn’t thought, you got a preference Layla?” 

Despite the fact that they were probably walking into another one of White Crest’s traps, Layla was going to try and be optimistic about the whole situation, “Slow is good. I’m glad to hear things are going well for the both of you. I suggested to Rio a while back about the possibility of a double date with you, him, Frankie, and me. I mean if you’re up for it.” She smiled. Moving to the counter, she stopped just behind Winston and looked up at the listed games on the wall. There were quite a few to choose from, “Uh, maybe 30’s Detective or Zombie Apocalypse? What level of difficulty were you thinking?” She had never done this before, so it was any guess as to how this day was going to go. She was just glad Winston would be by her side.

“Yeah, that would be really cute.” Winston and Frankie had talked a few times and it had always been fun, they would love to get to know all of them better and a double date wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. “We’ll have to try and arrange something.” Winston wasn’t sure what they could do, but there was always time in White Crest. Sometimes you really had to face the music and sometimes you just had to do something to calm down and chill out. “Uh,” honestly Winston hadn’t considered difficulty, “I say lets do Zombie Apocalypse but lets do like a medium, because I really don’t know if I have the brain power to do anything above that.” Winston slipped the guy behind the booth some notes and he ushered them down a corridor and towards the escape room, giving a clearly well practiced speech. “Zombie Apocalypse escape rooms are … inventive,” Winston whispered to Layla. 

A smile came over Layla’s face at the idea of them all getting together. Double dates weren’t much, but it was a semblance that she was really starting to settle down and call White Crest home. “Perfect, because I don’t know if I have the actual brain cells to figure this out.” She leaned in towards Winston, “That they are. And this place surely has an exit door, if it gets to be too hard right?” There had to be a way out. The teenager wasn’t about to admit that she may or may not have been nervous, but as long as they could leave if they wanted to, she would be good, “So do you know anything about these places? I know you have to find clues to unlock doors and things right? But we both know this is one messed up town and nothing is ever as simple as it seems.” Would there, in fact, be real zombies lurking in the rooms? They were about to find out.

“Hopefully the two of us will be able to get enough brain cells to rub together, I’m not super super hopeful but I think we’ve got this.” Winston was of course joking. Layla was many things but stupid was not chief among them. “I feel like if anything goes wrong then we will be able to find a way out.” It might require them to blow some stuff up but Winston wasn’t really sure that they cared anymore. “They’re basically just meant to be a giant riddle I think?” Winston replied, “Like isn’t the point that there are a load of themed puzzles and stuff that you have to work through so that you can get to the end and escape the room?” Winston stepped inside of the room, which had bars across the room so that they could only get a third of the way across the room. There was a couple of boxes that looked like they should hold ammo and Winston was suddenly concerned that there might be something zombie like in here. “Although I’m starting to wish that we’d picked the 30s detective thing instead of the zombies, now that you make that point.” 

“You know, I think we just might. But I can’t guarantee that claws won’t come out if something scares me. I’m still learning how to control that part of myself.” Was this really a good idea, now that she had thought about it? Layla was thinking as a human, when she committed to joining Winston, not as a werewolf. Evil!Layla, if you wanted to call her that, had given her normal counterpart a little more control over her abilities, but the teenager could still be skittish. After all, look at all the bullshit that had happened within the few months she had been there, “Sounds about right, yeah. I know they had them back in Nashville, but not as intense. I’m making an assumption, by the way. I never actually made it inside one.” She stuck closely to Winston as they entered the room together, “My spidey senses may or may not be tingling right now. Is it too late to choose that 30s detective thing?” She looked to Winston with an uneasy smile. What were they getting themselves into?

“Hey, if you need to go a little bit … wolfy because something’s freaked you out then I won’t stop you.” Winston hadn’t told Layla everything about themselves yet. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust her or anything it was more that with Miriam involved they didn’t want her finding out about them being a magician and so keeping it from as many people as possible was the safest way to do that. “I mean, like I said this is my first time too, but it would make sense that there would be something fucked up if it was White Crest.” The usual anxious pit in Winston’s stomach was beginning to settle in and Winston wasn’t sure that they were all that keen to see where this really went. But they were already here and they were pretty sure that they had just heard the door lock behind them. “I think it might be too late yeah…” Winston looked at her and then at the room. There were doors on either side that looked remarkably flimsy. The sound of a bell rang through the room. “So does that mean that the game’s beg-” Winston’s sentence was cut off as a fist punched through one of the doors and a mottled zombie-fied hand reached through, “start looking for a way through these prison door things.” Winston scrambled over to one of the boxes and pried the lid off, looking for a key or anything. 

Wolfy. Considering going wolfy seemed to be on the fritz, Layla wasn’t too sure that either one of them should rely on her innate animal. But the circumstances with Miles had been different. He was a werewolf trying to attack her to bring out her inner wolf; a plan that hadn’t settled too well considering it took her back to the night she was bitten. But this was different. As long as werewolves didn’t pop out somewhere and yell ‘boo!’ she would hopefully be good to at least swat at a few things with her claws, if they were to make an appearance, “Wolfy. Got it.” With hesitation growing inside of her, she was just about to turn around and walk out, when she heard the click of the door. Even Winston couldn’t get out their sentence in time, which instantly filled Layla’s stomach with dread. But it was the fist coming through the door that solidified her regret, and with Winston’s instruction, she immediately began scanning the room for anything that would help them move on, as more fists and hands seemed to start coming through the door. “Winston, I think this was a bad idea.” No reason to worry yet. No reason to let Miss Wolfy out. Nope. Just stay calm, Layla. Stay calm.

“I’m not saying that you should or even that you have to, just do you.” Winston didn’t think that they were really the person who should be coaching anyone on their newly found or developed supernatural abilities. They were barely in control of their magic at the best of times and although they were getting more and more confident with it as time went on there was still a lot for them to learn. “You think this was a bad idea?” Winston wished that sarcasm wasn’t such an innate defense mechanism at times like this, “Of course it was a bad idea, there appear to be literal zombies punching through the door in an attempt to eat us and presumably our brains.” Winston wanted to tell the people who had made Escape Doom that this wasn’t fun and it also wasn’t accurate, but somehow writing a strongly worded yelp review at a time like this wasn’t something that Winston thought was particularly a priority. Scrambling over to the boxes of ammo, Winston began pulling them open. Unfortunately they weren’t filled with anything really. There was air but that was about it really. Swallowing, Winston looked around before pushing over a chair in their hurry to find literally anyway out of this, they spotted a key and grabbed it, throwing it to Layla who was by the door to the next part of the room as the door splintered open. “Try that!”

Layla side-eyed Winston as the sarcasm came off strong, but continued to hunt for anything that could free them from a room that would soon be full of zombies, “First, sarcasm isn’t going to get us out of here, and second, what the hell do you mean literal zombies?!” Were zombies actually a real thing here? She hadn’t seen one. At least she didn’t think she had. No one looked like the hands that were grabbing at her from the otherside of the door. But thank the moon, Winston had found some sort of key! Catching it, she pushed it into the lock and twisted, hearing the door unlock, and just in time too, as she felt the brush of zombie fleshing against her body, “It works!!!! Come on!!!!” Pushing the door open, she ran inside the next room, “Winston hurry!!!!!”

“It’s a defense mechanism, like humour in awkward situations, except when it’s a life threatening situation I get sarcastic and make very bad jokes.” Winston was already dashing towards the door as ‘zombies’ burst through into the escape room. “Zombies are real, yes, but they’re not zombies like in the walking dead, it’s complicated.” Suddenly the establishment's name of Escape Doom had a brand new meaning to it and Winston found themselves determined not to get caught between a proverbial rock and a hard place. Scarpering into the next room, Winston pushed against the jail door as zombies poured into the room. “Layla, can you help … me…. With this.” They grunted with exertion as they struggled to get the door to close with the veritable tidal wave of zombies pushing against them. 

She was halfway paying attention to them carrying on, just more so concerned with their well being of making it past the room filled with zombies. Layla did, however, catch the bit about zombies being real, but different? She would ask for an explanation later, but right now her attention was pulled to Winston’s request of getting the door closed. With her wolf strength, she forced back the horde with the heavy door and managed to get it secured just in time before they were the ones greeting guests when they entered one of Escape Doom’s many fucked up scenarios, “What do you mean real and not like the Walking Dead?” She was bent over trying to catch her breath, but she had let her head twist just enough in their direction to listen to the explanation that she was hoping they would give.

Winston was far from sure as to how they were going to really explain this to Layla. They were really starting to resent having to explain supernatural shit to everyone. It wasn’t exactly their job and they were pretty much as new to this as everyone else was. But somehow, Layla managed to shut the door and Winston was left panting for breath on the floor. Gulping down air, they wiped sweat from their brow. The hordes of zombies that had filled the room that they’d been previously held in were swarming the bars and grabbing at Layla and Winston. Their heart fluttered with fear and anxiety crept into their stomach as they tried to work out a way out of here, but so far they had nothing. “I mean, like, you know in the walking dead they look like shambling corpses that grind and gnash their teeth and try and eat your brains, well in real life they don’t look like that, they do eat brains but not just human brains I don’t think? I don’t really know, I’m not an expert but these … they’re something else.” Winston wasn’t sure what, and they weren’t sure that they wanted to know either. “We need to try and find a way out before they find a way through.”

Layla listened as Winston explained everything. This town really was something else, and now, the redhead had wondered if she had ever come across any of these so-called zombies. That’d be a mystery left for another day. Right now, they had the hordes of these scary fuckers to worry about. Straightening back up, she looked around the new room. The sounds of grunting and growling and hands grabbing and reaching forced Layla to take a few steps further into the room. The name of the game was escape, and she was already scanning the area, “You know, I would say maybe these are actors, but I don’t think that’s a very accurate description, so I’m just going to start looking for the next way out.” As she walked around the room, she noticed there wasn’t a door, except the one they had come through already, “I don’t want to panic you, Winston, but, um...there’s not a door. At least not one that I can see. Except that one.” She pointed back to the door they had both just successfully shut.

Winston heard something plop against the floor and saw a section of skin peeled off of one of the things on the other side of the bars and dripped onto the floor. “I don’t think that they’re actors, unless that is some of the most convincing stage makeup that I have ever seen.” Winston was sure that it wasn’t one of the most convincing pieces of stage makeup that they had ever seen. In White Crest -- so much of the time -- the most convincing answer was so often the most supernatural. Looking around the room, Winston’s brain ticked slowly, it was almost as if they could feel the cogs in their brain churning as they tried to work out the answer. “Ok, there’s no door but this is definitely an escape room. I know that it would be pretty White Crest to make something that there is literally no escape from but that doesn’t feel like this place's MO. If there is no traditional door then there has to be a different way out.” Looking up and around them, Winston chewed on their lip before spotting a small vent in the ceiling. “You see that? Do you think that could be our way out?” 

The young werewolf searched the area, but her eyes caught the same thing she was pretty sure Winston was seeing; skin falling off and landing with a splat on the floor. Layla almost wanted to gag, but was able to refrain. “You’re right, I don’t think they’re actors either, now that you mention it.��� She quickly turned around, the smell of decaying flesh starting to get to her wolf senses now that she was actually letting it in. Her eyes scanned the area, until Winston told her to direct her attention towards the ceiling. Great. So not only did they have real life zombies trying to eat them, now they would have to play mission impossible and climb through a ceiling vent, “I don’t think it is. I know it is.” She glanced back to the creatures that seemed to be multiplying and pressing harder on the bars, “Need a boost?” She turned her sights back to Winston.

Gulping, Winston had to admit that they weren’t thrilled at the prospect of having to go through a terrifying vent but then again when wasn’t Winston terrified nowadays? They were sure that the ‘zombies’ were going to break through and eat them at any moment and if they did then Winston wouldn’t be able to do anything other then die. “Yes, I definitely need a boost.” Winston was ready to do whatever it took to get out of here alive and somehow they thought that might well be the point of this whole thing. As Layla boosted them up towards the vent they clawed the grate off of it and hauled themselves up awkwardly. Thank God Layla had given them a hand  with this because they did not have the upper body strength to do it on their own. Turning awkwardly in the cramped space, they dangled their hands for Layla. “Come on,” they said as they spotted the zombies clawing through the bars and starting to make their way through.

What had the two of them gotten into? Layla had just wanted to spend a fun day out with her friend and here they were facing zombies?! With all of her strength, she pushed Winston up into the vent. But not at the expense of having the walking dead on her heels. Her heart had been racing the entire time, but this had been the first time she had genuinely felt like she could get hurt, and as she jumped up and reached for Winston’s hands, the teenager felt one of the creatures grab onto her leg, “Winston!!!” Kicking with all her might while trying to pull herself up, she could feel the shift of the werewolf starting to come on. Tears flooded her eyes as her teeth began to change into fangs, “Hurry!!! I’m starting to shift!!!” If her claws came out, it was over. She would surely lose their grip and be a McZombie Meal minus the fries and drink. 

Winston was panicking. Of course this shit was happening. It only ever happened whenever they just wanted to have a nice day out. Hauling her up with all of their strength, Winston knew that this was life or death and honestly in the last month or so they had lost more then enough to not have to keep dealing with this bullshit. Roland had died and they weren’t going to let Layla be a victim too. “Ughhhghhh” they grunted a relatively unintelligible noise and pulled with all their might, managing to haul Layla up into the vent and panting from the effort. “Fuck this shit man,” Winston panted as they lay on their back gasping for air and wiping sweat from their brow, “why does this always happen? I swear to god I’m giving these motherfuckers like a 0 on yelp or something. This is the worst.” 

Trying to assist them all she could, Layla used what strength her body would allow to get up into the air vent. Today wasn’t going to be the day she died at the hands of some ugly ass zombies trying to make her lunch. And when she was laying right next to Winston, panting and trying to calm her racing heart, she knew she was officially ready to go home. Looking over at them, she winced as her teeth shifted back to normal, “I don’t know, but can we go? I don’t like this place. Anything that scares me enough to shift is bad news.” She remained on her back. The sounds and smells of the animated corpses below left her cringing, “There’s gotta be an emergency exit somewhere.” Layla slowly pushed herself up to a seated position, “And I’ll join you on that 0. This place fucking sucks.”

Nodding, Winston sighed. “Of course we can get going, I don’t think that I want to spend anymore time in here then I have to.” It was weird. Winston had seen a million and one movies where the protagonist climbs and clambers through a vent but actually doing it in real time was not what they had expected and by the time that Winston was out they were covered in sweat. There was an envelope waiting for them from Escape Doom as they pulled themselves out into the dirt outside the back of the Escape Doom building, it said something about congratulations on finishing your first escape room. Which did not make Winston feel better. “I need to shower and probably like drink a bottle of something that will make me forget this.” 

Layla followed Winston out and to the end of the air vent, where she also laid eyes on the envelope. Her reaction to the message? A strong eye roll. She had always wanted to try an escape room, but had never expected anything like this, “I would ask if I could join you, but I’m only 19, so…” She dusted herself off and looked back towards where they had just come. She could still hear groaning coming from the hollow vent, “Hey, uh, you don’t think they’ll get out do you?” Her concern from the community was great, considering they had just escaped death themselves. But her fears were calmed when she heard the groaning fade out and eventually disappear completely. She wasn’t sure how it had been done, but the living dead were gone. Looking to Winston, she sighed with relief, “They’re gone.” Moving forward, she looked towards her friend, “Next time, maybe we should just go see a movie.”

[peter-parkner]

Can you do 53 on the October prompt list? ;)

Okay, so I’m sorry this is probably 100% not what you had in mind for the prompt, but I had this vision and then it ran away from me! I hope you enjoy reading, because I definitely did writing!

Also written for Pakner Halloween Week Day 1, but posted severely late.

Welcome to Hell House

“Ow, Harley! That’s my foot!”

“Ned, is that your hand? Please tell me it’s your hand!”

“Whatever keeps messing with my hair, kindly get the fuck away from me.”

“Guys, this is a dead end…”

“Oh, what the ever loving fuck.” Harley threw his hands up in frustration. No one could see him though, since they were all stumbling around in the dark. Only a few dimly lit show lights guided the group through the haunted house.

“Remind me why we’re spending our Saturday night like this?” MJ’s voice was full of exasperation as she led the quartet back onto the right path. She kept one hand on the wall at all times while the other groped around in the dark. “Everybody link up so we don’t lose each other.”

“MJ, is this you?” Peter started frantically shaking whoever’s hand he had grasped.

“Yeah,” she whispered back while blindly walking forward. “Shhh you idiots, I think there’s someone else here.”

“Oh, perfect,” Harley muttered while he tightened his grip on Peter’s hand. “Ned, you good back there, buddy?”

“Yeah…just peachy,” Ned’s voice sounded as terrified as everyone felt.

Peter jumped a foot in the air when something yanked his ankle and sent him stumbling toward the wall. Harley and MJ used their firm hold to set him back upright.

“Get off my boyfriend, you asshole!” Harley yelled at whatever thing had just scurried away.

“Thanks, babe,” Peter laughed while the friends continued onward. For the next few twists and turns, the group was left unbothered aside from some trick lights and animatronic jump scares. The next door they came upon led outside into the pitch black night. “Did we…did we make it?” Peter hesitantly asked.Looking around, Harley took in the fenced off area and menacing display of sharp and pointy utensils in a nearby toolshed. “I don’t think so.” A sinking feeling crept into the pit of his stomach.

A chainsaw revved out of sight from somewhere behind and Ned screamed in terror. When a masked assailant approached from the darkness, the quartet broke into a dead sprint with MJ leading them toward an open door leading back into the house.

“Spiderman, you can take care of that, can’t you!” Harley shouted at Peter while the masked menace gave chase. His tone was playful, but part of him was serious.

“Oh, hell no!” Peter pulled harder on Harley’s hand to urge him onward. Ned was still screaming as he brought up the rear.

Once all four of them were back inside the house, the door they had entered through shut with a thunderous ‘slam!’ The chainsaw revved again right outside the entrance and they could hear its owner let out a roar of anger. His prey had escaped.

“Jesus,” Ned muttered as he caught his breath. “Hey guys…can we…take a minute? Please.” He was doubled over clutching his side while air refilled his lungs.

“Yeah, I need a sec too.” MJ was leaning against a cobweb laden wall. A sudden banging on the partition behind her had the group standing at attention once more.

“Escape first, rest later!” Harley took the lead this time and grabbed Peter by the arm.

Peter in turn latched onto Ned, who snatched MJ’s hand, leaving her to bring up the rear. Ned sighed in relief at not having to go last while MJ rolled her eyes in the dark. She broke into a light jog to keep in step with the others. The next turn brought them to an eerily lit dining room. Music was playing from a hidden speaker for ambiance. Before the group, a long elegant table was littered with blood and gore while a few prop bodies were sitting around the table. In order to leave the dining room, they would have to make it to the other side.

“Okay, one of these bodies is definitely going to move.” Harley felt Peter’s hand tense up as he spoke.

The quartet went into stealth mode as they tried to maneuver their way around the ominous scene as swiftly as possible. As if on cue, one of the dead bodies sprang up and lunged toward MJ.

“Be our guest, little girl!” The corpse leered as it pulled her closer.

MJ stomped on the actor’s foot and kneed him in the groin. “Don’t touch me, asshole!” While the actor stared at her, shell-shocked, the group took the opportunity to sprint into the adjoining kitchen.

“Exit, exit, exit!” Peter tore his hand out of Ned’s to frantically point toward a clearly marked ‘Exit’ sign at the end of the kitchen.

Harley and Peter tore through the back door with MJ on their heels. Outside, they were met with a blast of cool night air and the smile of a friendly looking attendant working the back door.

“Congrats, you���ve survived the Hell House!”

Harley caught his breath and gave her a half-wave of acknowledgement. It wasn’t until Ned screamed for help that the other three realized he hadn’t made it through yet.

“I don’t wanna die!” Ned called out frantically while a final monster had him cornered in the kitchen. It was the chainsaw wielding lunatic from earlier.

Even though the attendant tried to stop him, Peter forced his way back into the house. Without thinking, he used a web shooter to stick the killer’s chainsaw to the wall. Before the actor had time to comprehend what happened, Ned was already scrambling for the exit and Peter wasn’t far behind.

“You just had to go and save the day, didn’t you?” Harley teased Peter as he exited the haunted house for the second time that night. They rejoined hands and started walking away while MJ consoled Ned a few steps behind the couple.

“This friendly neighborhood Spiderman stops for no one.” Peter steered the group toward a stall selling apple cider.

As Harley placed their orders, Ned spoke up, “Guys, can we never do that again?”

“Agreed,” Peter nodded while he gave Ned a fist bump.

The group collected their drinks and continued roaming the fairgrounds for a little longer. They challenged each other to a few of the carnival games, but only Harley seemed to be on a win streak. After winning Peter yet another stuffed animal, he reached up to give Harley a kiss that tasted like apple cider and a hint of cinnamon.

MJ made a gagging noise in the background. “I think I’d rather go back to the haunted house.”

“You definitely wouldn’t,” Peter retorted while he shoved a neon pink bear into her hands. MJ scowled but Peter knew she was secretly happy with her stuffed bear.

When the quartet was sure they’d exhausted all the festival had to offer, they headed toward the exit. Harley turned around as they departed the fairgrounds to stare up at the large festival banner one last time. He scoffed, “Come to Shock Fest, they said. There will be a lot of screaming if you go, they said.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Jigsaw // Blue: Part Three

Painted Ponies

A/N: This is the final part to Blue...but is it the end of the road for Billy? (side note, this is number 16/19 smooches!! three more for Billy, and then a special bonus one to make up for all  the heartache I’ve caused.) 

Warning: language, violence, graphic descriptions, murder, character death THIS ONE IS ROUGH.

Word Count: 4,112

Prompt from: @luminex3 

Vision obscured by the thick warm blood dripping into his eyes, he curled the shattered digits of his left hand around Frank’s bruised and broken knuckles, and around the handle of the blade held to his throat. His right arm hung limply at his side, radius, ulna and humerus completely snapped from the elbow joint after the forceful blow his former brother delivered to the fulcrum of his arm, making it bend 180 degrees in the wrong direction. He could hear the haunting sound of the carnival music as the horses continued to prance on their poles, garbled as though he was three feet under water. The blue lights were meant to be bright and cheerful, but all he saw was the hazy halos around the bulbs, throwing a ghoulish glow over everything. It was over, done. That last ditch punch he’d thrown was more of an involuntary response than one that he thought would land any damage, and he wanted the end, wanted the peace, something he never thought he’d long for. 

The glass before him was cracked in several places, and the reflection was one he couldn’t recognize. So much had gone wrong, so much had been broken well past the point of repair. It took everything in him to blink, to raise his eyes to the hate filled pair looking down on him in the mirror, but he did because it was all that was left to do. Frank’s nostrils flared and his chest heaved as he tightened the hold he had on the back of Billy’s head. But as the lights changed from blue to red in his blurred and fading field of vision, he thought he saw something other than hatred in that glare; he thought he saw hesitation. Go on, do it Frankie… I got nothin’ left. 

“Kill me.” He choked, throat and lips slick with blood. 

Billy woke with a gasping cough, half expecting red stains on the pillowcase. Heart racing and adrenaline high, his thoughts threw themselves against the walls of his skull. Frank? He squeezed his eyes shut tying to guard against the onslaught. Frank? Why...why would… The last memory he had of Frank was from overseas, making jokes and giving him shit about settling down with a girl...with you. Frank wouldn’t… that’s...he’s my brother. Pain cut through his head, between his eyes, splitting his brain. I need to know. I need to… to know if… He looked to his left and out the window, quickly noting the sun’s position in the sky. Judging by where it sat between two neighboring buildings, he could tell it was a few minutes earlier than normal, but not so early that he would have to wait. Close enough. “KRISTA!” 

He bellowed her name, voice sounding foriegn to his own ears as it cracked and broke. He hated how reliant he was on her to confirm or deny the things he saw and felt and remembered, despised the way she made him struggle to decipher his dreams while she held all of the answers in that fucking folder. Enough of the fucking games. I need to know. He repeated his shouts until footsteps echoed quickly and he heard the distinct sound of keys jingling in a pocket. Focusing on controlling his breathing and stilling his jittering thigh, he pulled himself up to sit back against the pillows, eyes trained on the turning door handle. 

The last two weeks had been different, memories coming through with more clarity, more detail. He’d found a way to tell the difference between things that happened and things that only happened when he slept. In the dreams, things had a glow around their edges, a misty haze making everything softer. He’d stuck with that theory and had been proven right twice, though he’d been tempted to ignore it when he had the dream about the airport; leaving the terminal alone with his bag, the automatic doors opening up and the gray light of morning hitting the sidewalk...where you stood, the breeze lifting your hair and your smile lifting your cheeks. He tried to forget the shine as he wrapped you in his arms and devoured your sighs, pulling you as close as he could. But that’s not how it happened.

The memories had sharper edges, more refined, more realistic. The memory of a bright screen casting a soft blue light in a semi-dark tent, his badly bruised fingers moving over the keys as he fought the urge to delete the words, staring at them for long minutes before moving the cursor and clicking the send button, then logging off. It would be better for both of us if we don’t see each other for a while. I’ll call you when it’s okay. He couldn’t remember if you’d sent a response, couldn’t fathom a reason for sending you such a curt, final message. But he knew that was what had happened, knew it even before a print out was pulled from that fucking folder and placed in his shaking hands, the exact words he remembered typed out in 12 point font. 

“Why...why do you have this? Why do you have this and, and and the pictures? Why? How do you know about her anyway?” He curled his fist around the paper, crumpling it in his sweaty palm. “Why do you have all this?” 

“Billy, I’m trying to help you put everything back in order.” She answered with a slight tilt to her head as the morning sun streamed in between the cracked window blinds. Bullshit. “I didn’t know you before your accident, didn’t know what your life was like.” You still fuckin’ don’t.  “I needed to know as much about you as I could so I could help you try to understand what happened to you.” Her eyes were calm and her smile was unchanging. 

“Does she know?” He sniffed, nose twitching as he raised the mask, letting it sit on top of his closely cropped hair. “Does she know you’re...you’re digging around in her life like this? Huh?” He widened his eyes and raised one eyebrow, nostrils flaring. “Leave her the fuck alone, Krista. Leave her alone!” He seethed, balling up the email and throwing it forcefully at the floor.  

Still unflinching, Dr. Dumont sat straighter, tilting her chin slightly in the opposite direction. “Alright, Billy, I promise I’ll leave her alone.” She adjusted the file in her lap, neatly tucking the pages back inside before she rose. “I think that’s a good stopping point for today.” Her smile spread, filling her eyes with an almost ominous gleam. “Try to work on connecting what you know, now, Billy. Let go of the things you can’t change, focus on the things that will give you the answers you’re looking for.” With that she’d turned on the ball of her foot and held herself at her full height as she exited the room, the door barely clicking closed before a nurse and an orderly were coming through to keep up with the daily routine.

But this vision with Frank on the carousel, this was in heightened definition. This one sliced through like a razor, no glow, no doubt. Why would Frankie do this to me? Why did I think I had nothin’ left? He knew she had the answers, and he wasn’t letting her leave without getting them this time. 

She burst into his room, eyes wide and lips parted, breathing slightly labored from running down the hall. “Billy?” She was flanked by two guards but she continued walking towards him, ignoring their attempts to stay between her and her patient. “Billy, are you alright? What’s wrong?” 

“You tell me, doc.” He popped his shoulder with a little twist, cocking his head to the side. 

Taking a step closer to his bedside, Krista turned to the guards and waved them off, like she always did. They looked to one another before heading for the door. Billy could still see the backs of their heads through the small window, but for now it was just him and Dumont, and he grinned to himself as she pulled the keys from her pocket. “What do you mean, Billy? Did you have another dream?” She held up the keys as she asked, indicating to him that she was going to undo his cuffs. He nodded slowly, and as soon as one hand was free, he used it to pull the mask off. 

“Yeah. I did. And I got questions for you, Krista.” She unlocked his other wrist and he stood quickly from the bed, crossing the room to the window. He thought he caught a gasp of surprise at his abrupt action, a slight unsettling in her fearless facade. Reaching up, he pulled the chord to raise the blinds, exposing the room to more light, and opening up the view of the bustling street far below. He turned back to the chairs, permanently positioned in front of the window, gesturing to them in a welcoming manner. “Take a seat, let’s talk.” He sat in the seat he always occupied, looking straight ahead at the empty one across from him for a few seconds before turning back to where Krista still stood, watching him closely. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he pointed to the gaping glass hole in the wall. “This...you don’t like this, do you?” 

Krista cleared her throat and came out of the light trance she’d fallen into when he’d sprang from the bed. “It’s fine, Billy, if you want the blinds open, that’s okay.” She walked slowly to her seat, eyes on him as she sank into it, crossing her legs. 

“Bullshit,” he almost laughed through the grin. “I’ve seen the way you don’t get too close. I notice how you never look out. I see these things, Krista.” He watched as she swallowed, a lump moving down her throat. “Sucks, havin’ somethin’ like that right in your face, doesn’t it?” 

“Facing our fears is important, Billy. You’re...you’re right. I am afraid...but I’m working on that fear, just like you’re working on what’s haunting you.” She looked quickly towards the window to prove her point before turning back to face him. “Now, you wanted to talk about something?” 

Another near laugh. “Yeah.” 

She opened her hands. “Where do you want to start, Billy?” 

“Let’s start with Frank Castle.” He noted a flicker of recognition, of alarm cross her eyes. Yeah, that’s what I thought. He brought two fingers up in front of his face, pointing out the jagged scars. “Frank did this to me, didn’t he?” 

“Is that what you remember, Billy?” 

“Enough of your fucking questions.” He gripped the ends of the arm rest, scooting himself closer to the edge of his seat. “Tell me. Tell me Frank did this to me.” 

She had the nerve to shake her head slowly. “You know that’s not how this works. Tell me what you remember, and I’ll tell you if it’s true.” 

Anger rose in his gut and his knuckles strained at his skin as he tightened his grip on the chair. But before he could respond, the memory from his dream cut back through his brain. He tried to blink it away but it kept playing out, blocking out the present and immersing him in that blue light, that blood soaked moment, surrounded by painted horses, Frank ready to deliver him a fatal blow. 

He tossed the knife aside and released his grip on Billy’s blood soaked hair. “I’m not gonna let you die today, Bill. Dyins easy.” With less than half a second’s pause, a boot sole landed squarely between Billy’s shoulder blades, forcing him forward into the shattered mirror. Dull pain erupted across his head and down his spine but before it could fully register, Frank was readying to throw him into the glass again. “You’re gonna learn about pain. You’re gonna learn about loss.” Two more times, Frank slammed Billy’s head against the mirrored wall, his face butchered and sliced, chunks of jagged mirror stuck in the deep lacerations. The music, the lights, everything was gone, replaced by a high pitched ring and the low, gravely sound of Frank’s voice as he stooped down beside Billy. “Every day I look for ‘em Bill. Every morning...and then I remember.” 

Billy blinked. The cracked glass was falling from the frame in front of him, but for the briefest of moments he saw something in what was left of the mirror- he saw you, your arms reaching for him, a sad look on your face. I’m sorry…  He blinked again and you were gone. 

“It’s gonna be the same for you.” Frank threw him hard against the glass then, leaving him slumped in the corner. The crunch of Frank’s boots receded until there was nothing but silence, and Billy closed his eyes, feeling himself letting go. Something on his shoulder stopped him, and he recognized the distinct weight of your hand, the sound of your voice as you sobbed his name and held him close to your chest. “Billy, hold on…” you pleaded. Anything you want.

With a gasp and a cough he shook his head, eyes flying open to take in the white room, doused in daylight. Breaths coming in shallow gulps, his chest heaved under his shirt. Nausea roiled in waves. Was she there? Was she there that night? “Frank...Frank did this...I...I betrayed him...betrayed his family...this,” he pointed to his face, poking at the bullet hole in his cheek. “This was payback...punishment for…” The poking stopped and he scrubbed one hand over his face. Why would I… 

“Frank is the one who did this to you, Billy, yes.” Her voice snapped his focus back up to her face. “He did that to you...and...and you remember why now?” 

I got his family killed… I… He winced, grabbing at his ears as more pieces of memories came tumbling out of the gash in his brain. A phone call, a quickly scribbled note. That email wasn’t the last correspondence that he had with you. 

“I can’t talk long.” 

“Billy?” your voice sounded the same, all those months later, but tinged with a sadness that he wasn’t familiar with. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me, listen, I needed to tell you somethin’...you...you get the flowers?” 

He’d dropped them off himself that afternoon- blue irises, your favorites, his note simple and without his name attached, only three words : I love you. 

“Yeah, Billy...I...they were on my doorstep when I got home, I...Billy, where are you? Can I see you? You...you said you’d call when it was okay and…” 

“No, listen, I need you to stay put, okay? Things are...fuck, I got into some shit and it’s bad. I’m gonna finish it tonight but you...I needed to make sure you knew… in case I...in case somethin’ happens.” 

“Billy, people are asking me about you...police...homeland agents and...and…” he could hear the tears behind your words, and the fear and hurt in your voice twisted his insides. “I haven’t said anything, Billy...I...I don’t know anything...you just… you disappeared...Billy, don’t do this...don’t disappear again, please...please, Billy, I… I love you and...just let me see you, please?” 

“I’ll call you when it’s over. Stay put...okay?” 

“Yeah…” you whispered. “Yeah, Billy… okay…” 

“I told her I got into trouble...somethin’...somethin’ went wrong and I told her I had to…” he squeezed his temples, trying to force the rest of the memory from his mind like a tube of toothpaste.

“What kind of trouble? On deployment?” Krista leaned in, her focus sharp. 

“Yeah… it...we…” he was suddenly hit with a barrage of facts, rattling them off as though he’d had them in his back pocket all along. Operation Cerberus, assassinations, dirty missions, Rawlins, betrayals and killings on U.S. soil...The room spun as he fought to keep himself upright. 

“Billy,” Krista was scribbling hastily on her notepad, eyes wide with shock. “I...we’ll have someone look into all of this right away but..if…” she finished writing, closing her note pad and giving him her full attention, even reaching for his hand. He snatched it away as soon as she made contact. “If any of that is true, we might be able to get some charges against you dropped...if the government is involved in any of this… if” 

“Homeland. She said...she said homeland agents were…” he tapped his fingers against the top of his head. “Were callin’ her and…” 

Krista nodded and the room stopped spinning. “They were...well...one was. Do you… Billy can you recall the agent’s name?” 

He was almost there, approaching the gates around the colorful attraction, the silver moon shining down to light his way, when he heard a pair of hurried footsteps behind him. Gun drawn, he spun, eyes scanning the shadows, quiet save for the gasp in response to his turn. What the… 

“Billy?” You whimpered his name as you stepped closer, hands in front of you. 

He holstered his weapon immediately, crossing the distance with long strides, your name falling from his lips as his heart thundered in his chest. No. No, she can’t be here. “What are you doing here?” he asked, unable to keep his tone steady. “I told you to stay put...I told you to stay home...what happened?” 

Your tears fell as you let him wrap you up, as you let him swipe them from your cheeks. “Billy, I...that agent, the homeland agent...Madani? She, she called me again just...just after you did...said she traced your call to me...said she tracked your phone here. She’s gonna come after you… I...Billy, I had to see you, I had to...I had to make sure you were safe I...I love you, Billy, I...I” 

He cut your words off with his lips, pressing them to yours with the longing that had been building since he left you. The hands that had just held his gun now cradled your face between them, one sliding to the curve around behind your head, the other traveling around to your back, pressing you closer. He gave you everything he had in that kiss, all the love he couldn’t give you, all the things he wasn’t able to say. Tongue moving with yours, he felt that same need rise in his chest that he felt when he’d kissed you in front of the Alice sculpture, felt it fill him completely. Both of your hands were on his face, one earlobe between your fingers as they slid up his jaw. It felt so right, kissing you, holding you under the stars, under the moon. It felt right loving you. But he had to end it, because you shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be there with him, not when he didn’t know if…

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours for the briefest of beats while you both took a breath. He whispered your name once more. “You need to go...get out of here, get somewhere safe. Stay there until I call you.” His thumb came to brush your lips as he laid another kiss to them. “Please. Please, you need to go…” 

“Billy...I’m scared, I…” 

“Please!” his voice was louder than he meant for it to be, heart hammering. Someone’s gonna hear us...someone’s gonna see… 

You choked but nodded. “Okay… okay Billy...I...I love you...I needed to see you...I…” 

“I know. I know...Now, go...please…” He kissed you one last time and waited until you disappeared back in the direction that you came from. 

Good. Good, she’s gone, she’s...she’ll be safe… 

The fight with Frank. Guns and knives, fists and attacks. A ricochet in his peripheral as he spun to see the agent you’d warned him about, taking his shot, aiming for her head. Another ricochet as Frank misjudged Billy’s location, a trick of the mirrors and lights, of the bobbing horses and the painted dragons. A moan, then and the call of his name… too soon after that second ricochet...too soon after Frank had fired. He looked in the direction it came from and saw. His heart thudded to a jarring stop. No. No. No, no no no. He shouted the word and it became an unintelligible scream, it turned into rage, into blinding, red rage and he recklessly threw himself into the fight. He killed her. He shot her, she’s…

You were laying on the ground, close to Madani, and he could see the wound he’d given her on the temple. She was still alive, though bleeding badly and unconscious. But when his eyes dropped you, he saw the hole in your chest, saw the blank stare and the stillness of your body. He saw you and he knew. 

She’s gone…   

He stood, stepping towards Krista. “You knew.” 

“What?” She looked up at him, questioning him with her words and her eyes. “KNew...knew what, Billy?” 

He pointed to the file in her hands. “You knew...you knew she’s…” he tore the file from her grasp then, pages flying from it as he tossed it into the chair he’d vacated. “She’d dead...she’s…” saying the words aloud made his throat close, made his vision blurr sent searing, burning pain through his entire body, emanating from his skull. “Frank did this to me… he killed her he…” he turned on her. “And you fucking knew.” 

“Yes...yes, okay...okay, Billy, yes, I knew...I-” 

“Get up.” He snarled the words, tears in his eyes and hatred in his heart. She stood, hands shaking. One came up, tentatively reaching for him, but he wasted no time in wrapping his fingers bone crushingly tight around her wrist, yanking her towards the window. She yelped quietly, knowing that now that he had a hand on her he was in charge. She could call for the guards but not before he snapped her neck. “Tell me what you know. Now.” 

“She was found a few feet from the carousel, Billy, a few feet from where forensics determined that Agent Madani had been shot...she was probably right behind her she… they said she died instantly...there was no suffering…” 

“You knew. You knew she was...she was dead...all this fucking time…” his voice was uneven but he kept it quiet, kept from drawing unwanted attention through that window in his door. “And you made me play your games...you made me…”

“We needed to get as much information as we-” 

“Fuck your information, Krista,” he growled. “You knew… you…” 

Something broke in him then, as your face filled his mind, smiling in the sun, streaked with tears in the moonlight, splattered in blood and staring, unseeing at the ponies. With another yank on her wrist, he pulled Dr. Dumont close and spun behind her, muscle memory aiding in his swift motions. His free hand covered her mouth so she couldn’t scream as he walked her right up against the window, forcing her to look down at the street. Letting go of her wrist, that arm snaked beneath her chin, elbow tightening as his forearm and bicep crossed her own arm over her windpipe. He gripped his own shoulder and squeezed, keeping his hand over her mouth as she spasmed against his chest, as her nails clawed at his arms. He squeezed as her wild eyes grew wider and wider before she went limp, squeezing a few seconds longer, counting in his head to that magic number he’d learned back in boot camp: the magic number of seconds it took to kill someone with a blood choke. 

He dropped her body in a heap as his rage crashed and flowed and ebbed and diminished. 

You were gone... he was right...he had nothing left. But Frank didn’t even let him have that. He didn’t even let him fail. He didn’t let him go with you… 

He bent to pick up the pages that had flown from Krista’s file, sticking them inside the folder and tucking it into his sweatshirt. The door opened and the two guards burst in but Billy made short work of them, adrenaline high and fists and arms moving on their own. In no time at all he found himself on the street… his file in his hands and a new mission in his mind. 

He’d been trying to find you, and he did. 

Now he needed to find one more person. 

Now he needed to find Frank. 

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @thebbtongue @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @zaffrenotes @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @audreychaz @roses-in-your-country-house @traeumerinwitzhelden @luminex3 @songtoyou @songforhema @ymariejp @belladonnarey @breanime @stories-you-wont-hear

*thank you for tolerating this madness. there’s more to come, as always. ;) RED coming soon.*

[realm-sweet-realm]

Early Ink Hell, chapter 4: the birth of a religion

I know I told some of you that a butcher gang chapter was going to be next. Sorry, but I’ve realized that there’s just no elegant way to slip that in, pacing-wise. As a result, I’m going to upload the last “main series” chapter next, and give you the butcher gang chapter after that. Anyhow, enjoy.

---Sammy Lawrence---

Days passed, forcing me to realize that my pleads to Bendy were not being answered. The boredom was also driving me mad. One trip, I decided. To head down to the ink machine and try to go to find my lord and speak to him in person. Anything was better than this useless routine.

Getting down to the giant ink machine proved more difficult than I expected. Before the sealing of the studio, it would have been easy to get to the elevator and take it down to the very basement, where I'd use the key Joey had given me to unlock the massive machine. Now, the building’s new configuration had me going in circles a dozen times before I finally found the elevator. The buttons were very different than I remembered them, but I nonetheless pushed the button for the bottom floor. The place it let me out looked nothing like the giant ink machine. I cursed the shifting studio under my breath. How many more complications was this studio going to throw at me for such a simple task?

As it turned out, many. The studio (lord, I speak as though it were alive) seemed intent on proving as much. My journey started off simply enough, although he had to smack my way through a set of butcher gang members just to clear the first hallway. After that, it was one emotionally draining scene after another. First, Grant Cohen’s office, whose walls had been coated with money-related gibberish messages that the man had left the day before his disappearance. Playing the tape of his, Lacie's, and Shawn's gruesome murder- one I'd participated in- brought a wave of guilt upon me. But, at least they'd been strangers. Next, I ran into an audio log left by Susie Campbell detailing her feelings of anger and betrayal by Joey Drew. That had been the mindset she was in when she’d agreed to become Alice Angel. Both audio logs I left behind. Best to put it out of my mind, although the studio was beginning to feel like a museum of all the twisted things that had happened here. Yet I couldn’t find a staircase down to the cause of so many of them.

Finally, I wandered into Bendyland and came upon a horrid sight: the giant, severed head of Bertrum Piedmont, resting in an octopus ride. It was cocked to its side, unwilling to do more than stare at me listlessly. I hadn’t known Bertrum at all, but with the resignation written all over his face and the immobile state of his body, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

I was about to tell him the good news about my lord when I heard the familiar cackling of the Butcher Gang. In sheer instinct, I ran and hid under a bench. Even curled up and facing away as I was, I could hear the carnage as the chatter turned to angry grunts. At the same time, ominous theme park music began to play.

“Enough! Get away!” A booming British voice yelled through the speakers. I peeked out.

The piper was striking at Bertrum’s face, leaving cuts that resembled ink smears. Bertrum swung at them, hitting his own side and smushing the fisher. Meanwhile, the striker attempted to hit his mouth, only to have his front leg bitten off with a sickening snap.

I fought the urge to vomit, and prayed to the forces that be that Bendy would let me out of here. Bertrum smacked down his arm and narrowly missed the fleeing piper and striker, crushing my axe instead. For whatever reason, that was the final straw. I laid back down behind the bench and stayed down, even as the carnival music stopped and the chatter of the two butcher gang members faded.

Then came the booming British voice again. "Lacie?"

Sammy peeked out. The fisher said something indiscernible.

"Oh. I'm sorry. You three come here. I'll never hurt you again."

The butcher gang closed in on the man's face.

"YOU! Behind the table!" the voice yelled. "Did you hurt Lacie and her family while they were in this state? Shame on you. Go to the human village where you belong!"

I tried to say something, but was cut off after the first syllable.

"NOW!"

"...Where?"

Bertrum seemed genuinely surprised. "Oh, you don't know. Right this way."

With that, a metal door clanged open, and I stepped through it. inside was a hole in the floor with a metal platform hanging just above it, held up by rope attached to a pulley system. Hanging on the bottom of it was a bell. I stepped on, and the bell rang. The platform began to lower. Downwards, I saw a man I didn't recognize and a familiar woman in black and white.

---Susie Campbell---

The platform stopped a good five feet or so above my head- high enough that he'd think twice about jumping.

"Recognize this one, miss Campbell? Do we keep him?" Gary asked. The village has appointed me as an expert on the ink creatures, which, considering how little they know about them, is appropriate.

I narrowed my eyes. Sammy obviously recognized me, because he was shrinking into himself. "Absolutely not. He worked with Joey Drew. Don't even bring him down here so we can throw him into the ink river! Put him back!" I could hear my voice growing demonic. I didn't care.

Gary looked over to me. "He worked with Joey Drew, you say?" he said. Then, he turned to Sammy. "Do you know anything about what's going on right now?"

Sammy eased up. "Yes! I know how we can escape! Please- is Jack Fain here? He'll back me up, I promise it."

"Alright. Alice, hold the rope. I'll go get Jack."

I did as I was told, and glared up at Sammy. "What the hell are you doing?" I yelled to him, "You told me you didn't know anything. Which is it?"

"I have... developed certain theories," he replied calmly. But I knew that he was just making that up so that we'd let him down.

That's when Jack arrived. "Sammy! Yes, let him down. He told me all about how if we can summon the ink demon and get him to do what we want, he'll set us free."

"Well, go on, Alice-" Gary started.

"Susie!" I snapped.

"Right. Susie. Let him down."

Grumbling, I obeyed.

---Sammy Lawrence---

Jack and the other man, who introduced himself as Gary, proceeded to show me around the village. It wasn’t much, at the time, but it was still evident that the people here had come together and were making the best of things. The area was bordered on two sides by walls, by an ink river on another, and the final side was blocked off by a massive wooden fence that they must have built themselves, providing full protection, as Jack explained it, from ink creatures. Bad ink creatures that was- they did have Susie and a pair of Boris clones living within their walls. A man in a GENT uniform was building a structure of some sort over an area where a large number of cots had been gathered. Other supplies had been gathered, too, such as bacon soup, rope, and even a few axes. The area even contained a bathroom, which would allow for any members of the area to quickly wash off the corruptive ink. That must have been why the members of this community were so undamaged. There were many amputees- Jack among them- but in terms of ink poisoning, the group was surprisingly healthy.

After their little tour, my guides asked me for my story. I told them everything.

To my relief and disbelief, they believed every word of it, and were happy to hear that someone, anyone, had a clue about the supernatural forces at play and how to escape them. That night, I was given a platform to tell the whole village about my faith. The next day, a group of scouts were sent out alongside me to find the giant ink machine. Every axe was in the arms of a strong man, and we went all throughout the studio in search of my lord. After hours of searching, we finally came upon him, holding down a Boris, who was squirming and yelping in his grasp. I fell to me knees, waiting for him to finish so that I could make my plea. Once the Boris disintegrated, Bendy turned his head towards us, and the words, “I can free you,” appeared on a wall, written in ink.

The group of men had come down to this place thinking of the ink demon as a concrete solution to their problems. They came up as Bendy’s disciples, thinking him a God. And I, their resident expert on the occult, was their advisor on how to please him. Having seen Bendy devour ink creatures on more than one occaision, my best guess on the matter was to gather as many ink creatures as possible.

Over the next number of days, small groups were sent out with axes to bring back ink creatures and cages in which to keep them. Susie made several pleas to me to stop. I loathe her selfishness- everyone in this town was putting themselves in danger for this-three people had become infected and required amputation while on their quests. One had been mauled to death by a Barley and had become an ink creature, like me. Yes, the ink demon might devour her, but he was just as likely to devour me. She even began locking herself in one of the cages to sleep at night, which was actively working against our goals. I was appalled, and one day I lost it and began shouting at her for it. It was quite out of the pastorly character I'd set for myself, but it had to be done. Although, I think I only succeeded in turning her further against me.

Eventually, we had mapped out the entire studio. Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of ink creatures that could be captured. Most were very good at defending themselves. And that is when I proposed sacrifice- to turn more of us into ink creatures. The amputees were the first to volunteer, hoping that they'd get their limbs back, at least. I proposed that we make a sacrifice every three days, spacing them out so that we would not do more than necessary.

Finally, after two weeks and four sacrifices, the demon came.

[stagekiller]

  ♫   Bum, bum, bum, badum, badum, bum, bum - ♫

  Accordion sets the rhythm. Each breath is forced through rusty gears, gloved fingers tickling the array of black buttons that decorate its exterior. Green spotlight grants playful aquamarine hues to the stage, dimly illuminated, barely enough for the three silhouettes fronting on it to be visible. It’s naught more than a corner pub, often home to local indie bands. Sometimes stand up comedy nights, a gig or two. But it’s always cramped.

   Mild surprise had spread over the audience when a peculiar trio stepped up. It could be considered a quartet, should one keep the mute mime tagging along in mind. Said accompaniment had been holding up signs, some of which contained lyrics, others caricatures; a comedic element to enhance the trio’s appearance. With their faces covered behind masks & greasepaint, they may as well belong to a circus. And upon first hearing of the lead singer’s voice, one would doubt whether they’d gotten this live concert mixed up with a freakshow.

   However, despite his voice resembling a swan song, it did fit well with the band’s aesthetic - a surreal, grotesque dark carnival vibe. It was popular among these parts of town. Thus, the initial hesitance quickly melts into vivid acceptance. Theatrics compliment the song’s vibe, most of it being the lead singer in a jester mask narrating rather than singing the lyrics. It’s an exquisite performance, his hoarse voice conveying a variety of emotion, all hiding under this mask of comedy. A show to be remembered, perhaps one worthy of bigger crowd.

“ I remember when I was a very little boy, our house caught on fire. I'll never forget the look on my father's face as he gathered me up in his arms and raced through the burning building out to the pavement. I stood there shivering in my pajamas and watched the whole world go up in flames. And when it was all over, do you know what I said to myself ? ”

   Golden threads embellish his pointer finger as it shoots to some lady in the front.

  “ Do you know what I said to myself ? ”

  A nervous chuckle is earned. His finger traverses dark faces, their expressions barely visible through shadow. However the experienced showman can sense for his audience’s disposition, even in lack of sight.

  “ Do you know what I said to myself ? ” 

   Giggles. The music slows down, eventually coming to a halt, a brief pause that accentuates the hoarseness of his voice into the microphone:

  “ I said to myself... is that all there is... to a fire? ”

   Laughter from the audience. Delightful melody is artfully introduced to their ears once again. If it weren’t for the backing vocals & beautiful composition, perhaps the singer’s voice would have damaged the performance. But under these circumstances, it only added to that funny element. And as such, the verses went on in the same pattern, with that golden-laced finger pointing at random heads & the audience becoming increasingly more invested and participating.

  ♫  Is that all there is... is that all there is 

if that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing...

Let’s break out the booze... and have a ball .. if that’s all there is...  ♫

   When the final chorus was approaching, the music turned down ever so slightly. Commotion, enthralling performance and imposing presence of the masked singer drew attention away from the closing doors. Smoke started to rise from the backstage, illuminated bright green under the lights. And it was regarded as part of the act, a common illusion,or perhaps enhancement to their presence. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

“ Well I know what you must be saying to yourselves.”

   Vibes of curiosity & amusement from the audience.

“ If that’s the way he feels about it, why doesn’t he just end it all, eh? ” A shrug. Nods. Ginger spikes peak from the mask’s rim, assuming a variety of auburn hues under the spotlight. “ End it all. Hm. ” He pretends to be giving a thought. Silent smiles & a few snorts from the crowd. “ Oh no, not me. I’m not ready for that final disappointment. Cause I know, just as well as I’m standing here on this stage, talking to you tonight - that when that final moment comes - ”

 Ominous vibe taints the atmosphere. Drumroll forebodes a climax. “ - and I draw my final breath - ” Exaggerated inhalation into the microphone earns a few snickers from the audience. “ I’ll be saying to myself -  you know what I’ll be saying to myself ? ”

   Subtle HISS fades into the background. It is quickly concealed, however, under the partnership of accordion & cello. In the stage corner, that one Pierrot that had crawled up alongside the others holds up a different sign;  ‘ please put on your masks ’. Those few pairs of eyes that notice might be unnerved. But it is not until they’d try to step away from the stage, perhaps towards the back or reaching for an exit, that the real horror would sink in.

“ You know what I’ll be saying to myself? ” Lead singer in green continues, some odd sentiment boiling up in his voice; anger. It resembles anger. Bold energy oozes out of his gestures, shaking the microphone in his grip and spitting behind the white mask that still conceals his features - it adds a sinister undertone when paired with pale green reflections. Drum picks up in tempo.

“ You KNOW what I’ll be saying to myself ? ” Voice holds a malicious vibration, earning a high-pitched squeal from the microphone. The atmosphere feels heavier - peculiar stench spreads in the air. It earns a few gasps, some pinched noses. Some back off, a sudden fuss. Commotion causes the music to grow louder in response. White boot is stomped against the stage floor impatiently.

“ YOU KNOW WHAT I’LL BE SAYING TO MYSELF ? ” Growl earns some attention, a few squeaks as well. Green smoke is now rising from the floor as well, pouring into the room. The Pierrot has slipped into a gas mask, still holding that very same ominous sign - now suddenly making a lot of sense. The crowd ceases, awaiting some sort of explanation. Some blurt out a few complaints. And then the music ceases; audience complies to deafening silence. They expect some sort of justification for that green gas suddenly fuming in their faces. But, when the lead speaks, his voice raspy yet oddly tender, it feels like a revelation:

“ I’ll be saying to myself ...is that all there is .. to DEATH !? ”

  Pause.

 The audience watches, silent, speechless. Tense atmosphere. Foot is stomped against the floor. Hands let go of the microphone’s body, fists clench besides his thighs. Shaky arms, hunched shoulders, head protruding ever so slightly as it tilts left and right, examining their reactions through two little slits.

“ Death ! ”  Word is repeated as if he’s testing them for reactions. Hands flash open beside his face. “ Death. ”

 A giggle from the audience.

                                                                                   And then another.

                                                             And another.

 The mask comes off in a swift bow -

  And the music goes on, amidst a choir of LAUGHTER.

♫   if that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing...

Let’s break out the booze... and have a ball .. if that’s all there is... ♫

[killjoys-killer-ocs]

Chanson's Revenge

I gave you my music, made your song take wing. And now, how you’ve repaid me; denied me and betrayed me… You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!

The all too relatable lyrics of the reprise of All I Ask of You played over and over again in Chanson’s head. His church home in Belphegor's nightmare carnival in a violent blaze and ripping through the rest of the shadowy realm faster than any of the other Spectrels could get to it. Shouts of panic were almost music in his ears. A sweet symphony of chaos. But the one person who he wanted to hear sing more than anything wasn’t there. “Belphegor, vhere are juu?” Chanson called for the one he once felt was his Christine. Now he was nothing more than the one who betrayed him and left him for a human he barely knew.

A love triangle that Chanson had attempted to be flexible with, even going so far as to attempt to have a relationship with both his beloved Bel and the wretched human he was too disgusted with to even utter his name. It worked, maybe for a few months, but things started to go sour. Chanson couldn’t help but to feel jealous of how Bel treated the human menace turned Spectrel sweeter and softer than he did Chanson himself. How they eloped without him, and spoke of lovers excursions he was promised to be invited to as well. Belphegor swore that he treated them equally, but it was quite obvious who his Christine favored, and it was not him. And how that was taking its toll on the self proclaimed Devil of Music.

This night had started no different from the past few. Once again Chanson had been excluded from something Bel told him he would be in on. But this time, it was something Chanson himself had requested, something Bel knew he loved and wanted to do. No, he took that abomination instead, leaving Chanson to seethe in his false Notre Dam alone. His madness ever deepening as he thought of all the ways he could kill the monochrome Spectrel and the one he chose instead of the musician. That was just the straw that broke the already unstable camel's back.

The smoke of his Spectra turned to a thick haze, enveloping his living space. With his madness came his curse. Bones shifted and elongated, shooting painfully from his skin in odd directions. The skin on the side of his face where his Spectra ‘burn’ appeared melted off, exposing the bone underneath and leaving his eye as an empty socket. More skeletal splotches started to appear as skin and tissue was replaced with bone. A Spectra vine of rose branches snaked its way up his body, caressing his form in thorns and flowers, ending in a single bloom in the empty eye socket. While anyone else would be writhing in the pain of this transformation, Chanson exploded in a crazed mirth. Laughter that would chill even the scariest being in this dark carnival to the bone echoed through the empty pews.

Tonight anyone who dared get in his way would meet an excruciating death. However, before he left his sanctuary, all became still. The fog settled to a low roll as it made a path to the door beneath his feet. Chanson slowly started towards the doors from the altar. With each step he began to sing. Past the point of no return. No backwards glances. The games we’ve played ‘till now are at an end. With every step, every note, the fog spread to knock over the candles that burned in tall candelabras, igniting the church’s wooden structure. The song’s verse was slow, melotic and full of malice as the words rolled off his tongue. The menacing walk ended at the double doors, with flame biting at his tailcoat. The roar of flame died as fog swirled in a tight whirlwind, sucking up the blaze.

Past the point of if or when. No use resisting. Abandon thought, and let the dream descend. Doors opened and the Phantom stepped from his home for the last time. As soon as his sole hit the floor, the Spectra smoke released the flame, causing it to explode from the building and catch everything around him. The insane grin spreading across his face. Oh how he loved the chaos around him! He lived for it! But now was not the time to revel in what he had done, there was still more he needed to do. He called for Belphegor, the one he truly wanted to see scared in all of this. “Coward! Come out and see vhat you haffe done!” He screamed, throwing his arms in the air in a ‘look what I’ve done’ fashion as he turned towards the raging fire that had engulfed the camp as if to present the destruction to the one who had wronged him.

With a few bouts of giggles, he turned towards the direction of the cabin he knew Bel lived in. He had to be there. Where else would he be other than bedding that filth he craved so? He silenced, face turning to a dark cold murderer’s stare. Now it was time to be serious. After all, no one was getting out of this carnival alive if he could help it. But first he needed to do away with the ones that hurt him most. His stride was eerily calm. Reaching out his hand, the vines of thorns traveled down his arm, forming a noose in his hand.

The cabin wasn’t too far from his own home, and it took him no time at all to get to the front door. He kicked in the door, crimson fog spilling into the room, rotting the wood where it touched. “Belphegor~” He sang the name. “Vhere are juu?” The Frenchman’s tone was sickeningly sweet, yet filled with deadly intentions no sane person could even bare to imagine. The silence that responded to him was bemusing to say the least. Was protective Bel, who always had something to say to any threat that even blinked at his lover, now biting his tongue? Did Chanson strike so much fear into him that he was now silent? It couldn’t be…

Each heel to toe step he took broke the deathly silence of the home. Fierce crimson eyes scanned the cabin for any sign of life. A hunter stalking his prey. Chanson came to a door, grabbing the handle, he flung it open with such ferocity it nearly came off its hinges. A closet filled with nothing but coats and disappointment. The ominous walk in silence commenced, uncaringly leaving the door open. Maybe it would serve as a later obstacle should his prey try to escape once found. Another door, and this time he did rip it from the frame, letting the wood clatter to the side. Bathroom. Chanson stepped in, reaching for the pulled shower curtain and pulling it back. Nothing… He walked back out, and that was when he heard it. A sniffle and a shush coming from the next room over. The Phantom grinned wickedly.

He made careful steps towards the bedroom door, making sure he wasn’t heard. He even knew where the floorboards creaked in the hall, and avoided them to reduce the sound. Breathing through his nose, he kept all noise to a minimum, wanting them to think he hadn’t heard what he did. He stopped at the door a moment, breathing in the cold stillness of the air. Gripping the Spectra noose, he lifted his other hand and with the help of the fog, broke down the door. One occupant yelped in surprise, and the other whispered it was going to be okay. “Why lie?” Chanson spoke, looking to Bel and his chosen one huddled around each other in the corner of the room. The fear that crossed both their faces was delectable.

“What do you want, Chanson? Haven’t you ruined enough?” A laugh sounded from the crimson musician. “Oh Belphegor, juu haffe ruined much more zhan I ever can.” He waggled his finger and tisked in a ‘naughty naughty’ manner. “You shouldn’t haffe betrayed me, or at zhe very least not led me on as juu did. Now juu’re going to haffe to pay.” Chanson cast his gaze towards the smaller male in the other’s arms with a smirk. “But first, ve haffe to get rid of him.” The mortification that crossed Bel’s features was amusing to say the least. There was no doubts that Chanson was enjoying every moment of this.

“You wouldn’t--” “Oh yes I vould Belphegor. After everything juu did to me, juu deserve zhis! But I have something very special planned for zhis occasion.” He chuckled, straightening out the noose in his hands. Before another word could be said, the Devil of Music started to sing once again, now using his siren call to influence those around him. He knew no one could break his spell, not even Bel. Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair.

The change in expression in Bel’s face was almost immediate. From fearful to blank, the monochrome Spectrel rose, his abomination powerless to do anything despite his attempt to get the other to stop. Down we plunge to the prison of my mind. Chanson handed the other the noose made from his rose Spectra and pointed to the pleading male still on the floor. Down that path into darkness, deep as Hell! Belphegor, despite the tears now running down his cheeks, nodded and strode to the false Spectrel, placing the noose around his neck while the other pleaded for him not to do this and to snap out of it. The vine curled around the rafters in the ceiling and looped into Bel’s hands. Pity comes too late- A pull of the vine and Bel’s lover was on his feet, grasping the thorns around his neck. Turn around and face your fate. Another pull of the vine from Bel and the smaller male choked, standing on his toes. An eternity of this before your eyes! Another tug and the male was off the ground, kicking and choking as Bel held the end of the crimson Spectra that sealed both their fates.

Chanson quieted, watching his Raoul struggle for breath he would never catch. He wanted to hear the other suffer. This was victory, this was his revenge on all of the pain the two men in front of him caused. Watching Bel hang his own lover with a blank stare on his face, under the control of Chanson’s own deadly siren songs. What a delight! The sweet sound of asphyxiation and death was everything he wanted to hear last from the one who ripped he and Belphegor apart. However, that came to an end sooner than he would have liked, and a sneer crossed his face. Damnit.. He hoped that the struggle at least would have lasted longer, but alas the male on the noose fell unconscious.

A sigh escaped him, and he walked up to Bel, gingerly taking the vine turned rose branch, and looping it to the banister, leaving the male hanging. Sniffles came from Bel, who was still under his song’s hypnotism, but in witnessing what he had done was still in a state of total despair. Chanson’s expression turned somber, if only for a second as he gently caressed Bel’s face. A bone thumb coming to wipe away the tears. “Do not vorry mon amour, juu vill join him very soon.” Chanson tenderly kissed the monochrome Spectrel’s cheek. “But I have somezhing special for juu, mon betrayer, mon Judas. Hanging does not suit you.” The cruelty came back into Chanson’s face. “No, juu deserve to burn.”

Of course he wasn’t going to let the other off his control yet. A skeletal hand wrapped around the Spectra hand of the one he used to love. Leading him from the bedroom where the abomination hung. He walked the other to the front room, and with the belt he slid from his clothing, Chanson bound Bel to the wooden banister in the middle of the room. Only then did he sing the words that released Bel from his hold. The other sobbed, falling rather pathetically to the floor. “Why? Chanson why!?” A cold crimson stare fell upon the monochrome heap of a man. “I zhink juu know vhy Belphegor.” More sobs came from the other, though Chanson would not be swayed by the other’s remorse now. Besides, the flames were almost licking the house. Time to add fuel to the fire.

He left the other to wallow in his misery, looking for something that would make for a fuse or a lead for the fire. Oh? That would do the trick quite nicely. Rubbing alcohol was grabbed, along with olive oil, both of which Chanson knew burned. He sprinkled the oil on Bel in fine droplets so it would catch. With the alcohol he made a trail from the other man’s feet to the door where the fire that started at the cam was almost upon. With one more glance towards Bel, he finished the trail and watched the fire follow the alcohol and light the other male ablaze. The screaming didn’t start right away. Chanson knew he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that easy, but once it did, the sound was almost a chorus of angels.

The entire carnival was now in Hellfire, those who lived escaped from the flame. Though the smell of burning flesh was enough in the air that he knew some, if not most got caught up in the blaze and couldn’t get out. Good. Bel’s friends could all join him in Hell for all he cared. This was what happened when Chanson was scorned. The Phantom would do everything in his power to make them suffer, and so he did. Now it was time to go home, and reclaim Paris once and for all.

[phangirllnd]

Love Never Dies US Tour Review -  12/29/2017

Note that these are just my opinions and they are not fact. You can think any way you want to about the show. Personally I like it, and here are some things I had to say about the cast and show.

The Cast

Gardar Thor Cortes (The Phantom)

Awkward. Like, there isn’t a better word. Half the time he wasn’t standing up straight, but had his knees or back bent and appeared more hunched over. His arms and hands were off to his sides at most times making him look odd. Overall he played his Phantom very aggressively. He manhandled Christine, made a threatening gesture to backhand Meg, and dragged Gustave about the stage during “Beauty Underneath.” While he does have a nice operatic voice, it was lost a lot during his scenes with the other performers, as he was performing more operatically and they were performing in the musical theater style. This was most apparent when he sang “Devil Take the Hindmost” with Sean. He also did not articulate his words fully and often would let them blend together weirdly. This may be due to the fact that English is not his first language, but many times if I hadn’t known the lyric, I wouldn’t have known what he was even trying to say. Overall, not a fan unfortunately.

Meghan Picerno (Christine)

Sang well overall. However, her acting is lacking at times. When she is in scenes where she is yelling or overemotional, her acting begins to take on an over the top acting style of Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz (“Oh no, Auntie Em!”). She chose to take on an English accent for this role, but when she went into the more emotional scenes this dropped quite often. She appeared older than I have seen the other Christines in Love Never Dies made up to me. This could have simply been heavy makeup. I believe she is on the shorter side, because her costumes almost appeared overly large on her or not cut appropriately. Most apparent was her white gown in “What a Dreadful Town” through to “Once Upon Another Time.” The bodice was too large and didn’t sit at her waist appropriately and the skirt was huge on her and she often had to push it to move with her, instead of flowing gracefully behind her. Overall not impressed by her either. I would have loved to see Rachel to be honest.

Mary Michael Patterson (Meg Giry)

Mary! Mary you did it girl. Really exceptional performance by Mary as Meg. She sang beautifully and had a charm to her. Her ever growing darker mood was apparent in every seen and she was very foreboding at the end. Lovely dancing and costumes fit her beautifully.

Karen Mason (Madame Giry)

At first I wasn’t sure what to think of Karen, because it appeared that she was straining her voice at times and she appears to be quite a bit older than her “daughter” (she could easily pass as Meg’s grandmother). However, she pulled through stunningly with the strained voice actually working in her favor as a kind of ominous character. She nailed the reprise after “Beauty Underneath.”

Sean Thompson (Raoul)

Sean was there. Not much else to say. I think he could have been more present in his role, but I believe that producers are pushing him to be more cold and aloof than ever to Christine. He was brash and careless in the beginning, setting the scene for how this Raoul would be portrayed. He did have a sweet moment with Gustave and the music box. Sean’s acting and singing were both great, with “Why Does She Love Me?” being a strong point for him as the audience definitely felt the hopeless and morose attitude of Raoul’s character at this point.

Katrina Kemp (Miss Fleck)

Katrina was amazing. The audience loved her and responded well to her. She definitely stole the show from her two cast mates.

Richard Koons (Squelch)

Not much to say about him. He played his part well.

Stephen Petrovich (Dr. Gangle)

Stephen was so overdramatic that at times it was cringy and at other times humorous. He reminded me very much of Herbert from Tanz der Vampire and if I had met him after the show I would have commented that to him. Just overly dramatic facial expressions and posturing. He sang well and played his part well however.

Casey Lyons (Gustave)

Nothing much to say about Casey. Beautiful voice. He took it in stride though as he kept getting dragged around stage.

The Show

I’m only commenting on songs that had parts I had something to say about, so not all scenes or songs are listed here. If they aren’t, I just didn’t have anything to say, good or bad, about them.

ACT I

“Til I Hear You Sing”

Nothing much to be said about this stage. It’s the same set and blocking as the Australian version. There was a light shining directly into my face from above though, so I was a little preoccupied with not being blinded. As this song ended and the next began, there seemed to be a bit of a weird pause where the trio of Dr. Gangle, Squelch, and Miss Fleck were beginning and the Phantom was just continuing to look down at them as they began. Then his little “tower thing” was jerkingly brought back bit by bit into the foreground. Not sure if this was on purpose or a technical aspect, because the Phantom was just hovering weirdly.

“Coney Island”

Set design the same as Australia again. Overall nice intro. The part that I noticed missing however were the “regular” customers of Coney Island who would have been on the carousel or mingling around the park. It was just the freaks. It made the transition smoother from this scene into the next when the “normal” people were entering the park and being a part of the experience alongside the freaks. The trio were riding the carousel horses instead.

“Christine Disembarks/Arrival of the Trio”

Christine came off the plank smiling and basking in the reporter’s presence which is very different from how other Christines have played this scene (most of them being apprehensive or taken off guard by the reporters wanting to speak with her). I didn’t like this as much, because it portrayed Christine as being almost conceited that she knew there would be people clamoring for her autograph. This takes away from the Christine we knew and loved from the original POTO who was overwhelmed by the praise and very humble. The carriage was HUGE and Miss. Fleck was driving it which was delightful. A loud thunder clap at the end scared a lot of the audience.

*also note that there were a lot of onstage cameras flashing so beware if you have sensitivity to this

“Beneath a Moonless Sky”

Christine appeared very angry with the Phantom, like seething mad, ready to slap him mad. The Phantom was very grabby and touchy. The Phantom was very aggressive in this scene, overly so, grabbing at Christine and manhandling her and she was just as aggressive at some points. The scene felt weird however, as Christine never truly dropped down from her anger and it was more like watching a guy try to force himself on a woman instead of remembering a moment together in their lives that meant something.

“Mother Please, I’m Scared”

Phantom was aggressive with Gustave, hauling him onto the railing which even made myself as an audience member kind of nervous for the actor playing Gustave. Phantom was very overly awkward in this scene too and his face was much too close to Gustave at certain points.

“Ten Long Years of Yearning”

This scene is where the anger did play out well, with the Phantom lunging at Christine near the piano and her fighting back. Even though I was expecting it, I was drawn to the scene with both actors fighting tooth and nail.

“Dear Old Friend”

My only comment is that it is not a wonder that the Phantom didn’t know you were into him Meg, because you slapped one of your fellow male dancer’s butts offstage.

“Beautiful/The Beauty Underneath”

I hated that this was changed so that instead of Gustave just doing his little piano part and the Phantom singing “he’s just 10 years old,” Gustave instead magically knows the tune to “The Phantom of the Opera” and he does the high notes like Christine did in the original. This was weird, especially as that scene is originally played as sexually awakening and personal. Just very awkward. The new lyrics were fine, but I still very much enjoyed the old ones just as much. The Phantom was literally dragging and grabbing at Gustave so much that I imagine the poor kid has bruises. There was a weird figure in white who appeared on one of the side balconies, who seemed to be channeling Christine dressed all in white like a ghost’s wife. Not sure why. Also, who let those It clowns into the carnival?)

“Phantom Confronts Christine”

When Meg moves forward to comfort the Phantom, the Phantom raised his arm in a gesture to backhand her and made an aggressive grunting sound. I also did not like this, as it harkens back to the new tour where the Phantom is very aggressive with women. The Phantom’s hair was sticking up all kinds of crazy during this scene and while I know this is common, it just looked very clowny and took away from the seriousness of the moment. Madame Giry’s entrance and song were on point.

ACT II

“Why Does She Love Me?”

The second shift bartender was chosen for his dark looks which look very similar to the Phantom’s. He bent down beneath the bar quite a few times and one of those times I was sure he was down for good, because he had been gone for a good 15 seconds, but then he popped back up again. The Phantom didn’t make the switch until a few seconds before confronting Raoul.

“Devil Take the Hindmost”

The singing styles between Gardar and Sean were very apparent during this and it made it so that the song did not flow as nicely and the Phantom’s threats didn’t seem as threatening when sung operatically.

“Mother Did You Watch?”

Meg did not get overly upset and scream too much at the end, which made it to be more ominous. She shouted briefly and then stood there facing the audience as the next scene was brought in with the light just slightly shining on her which made her appear foreboding and dangerous.

“Devil Take the Hindmost (Reprise)”

So I have no idea why, but there is a Phantom double in this scene. He appeared on stage right on one of the side balconies and as I was looking at him I noted that he did not look the same and his singing was not quite matching up to his lip movements. I honestly tilted my head in confusion which I think the double may have seen (sorry dude, work on your stuff). He exited and then about 5 seconds later, Gardar appeared on stage right on another side balcony. There was obviously not enough time for him to move across that whole expanse of stage, which threw the audience for a loop too with them wondering how he did that so fast. I just did not understand the point of a double. Just have the Phantom stand in one spot. It’s not a big deal. It was a bit hard to hear Madame Giry during this time. Not sure if her voice was just being overpowered or her mic was low.

“Love Never Dies”

Raoul steps forward involuntarily as soon as Christine sings, knowing he’s lost but entranced by her singing still. The Phantom was standing opposite to him awkwardly with his arms outstretched to his sides and gaping at Christine. When Raoul leaves and Christine looks back over, she honestly did not seem the least bit upset that Raoul was gone and immediately smiled and launched into the next stanza (I guess she didn’t really love him).

“Ah Christine/Gustave, Gustave”

The kiss was blocked in this scene because the Phantom’s arm came up in the front and blocked their faces. Not sure if this was on purpose or if the blocking was forgotten. Also the Phantom left first and slammed the door after him (Rude. Hold the door for Christine, man).

“Beauty Underneath (Reprise)”

I really liked this scene and thought it actually did add to the production. Meg is taking Gustave and she’s singing to him asking if he wants to see all the weird stuff and of course he agrees. A part of the roller coaster is in the middle and as the reprise is sung, it’s being spun around with Meg and Gustave on top of it. It appeared to be spinning quite fast and it was exciting to watch that. This gave a little more background into how Gustave was persuaded to leave the stage area however, as he trusted Meg and was very interested in “weird” things.

“Finale”

They used the same piece of roller coaster that Meg and Gustave had been spinning on. It was more curved than the Australian production and had a little platform at the end with no railing around it. There was only a rail on one part of it (and though Christine and Gustave were clinging to it, I don’t think Christine pulled it down like in the Australian version). The reason I really did not like this was because the coaster part actually had to be turned part way through so the other half of the scene on it could be displayed. Meg played her part very well. When it came time for the fight over the gun, it appeared that Gardar was manhandling the gun so much that Mary couldn’t even fire it, so the fight was prolonged for a few seconds until she could actually pull the trigger. This took away from the scene because the gunshot is supposed to be very unexpected and unintentional, but with the prolonged fight over the gun, it was inevitable that someone would be shot, it was just a matter of whom. The scene where the Phantom is holding Christine was a bit hard to see, especially since Christine was not sitting up that much (as is seen in Les Miserables with Fantine in “A Little Fall of Rain”). The Phantom’s breaths with obvious upset in them were touching and his cry at the end was also. The Phantom hands over Christine’s body to Raoul and walks to the end of the “pier.” When Gardar turned around to sing to Gustave though, one of his feet was dangling off the edge of the “pier” and it seemed for a moment that he might possibly throw himself into the ocean, so I think Gardar just needs to be mindful to keep his feet on the set, so as not distract from the moment.

Final Thoughts

Overall, I would see it again, but I would prefer to see a different Phantom and Christine to see their dynamic together. If it’s in your area, see it, even if just to say you have seen it.

I did make an audio recording of the show. I just need break it apart, see how I can improve the sound, and block out some of the white noise. I’m more sure how long that will take me, as I’ve never recorded a show before.

[jflashandclash]

The Attrition of Peace

Forty-Three: The Pax Brothers

We Crash the Wrong Person’s Vacation

 Note: I do something a little different with the point of view in this chapter. I hope it isn’t too distracting! Let me know if it is!

             In the ensuing chaos—of Alabaster snarling a quick, “Dawn will make your ghosts worthless,”

           And the boar with a bowtie withdrawing a pocketwatch from a pocket that involved cartoon logic to say, “Oh, my good boy, we have plenty of time,”

           And Reyna’s and Melinoe’s troops engaging—Pax frantically searched for his friends who were less trained in the art of not dying during war.[1]

           He didn’t catch sight of Kally or the others as Reyna and Alabaster shoved him and Axel backwards across Camp Half-Blood’s boundary lines. But, he did see another figure.

           Off to the side of the Roman wedge formation and the line of ghosts, there was a girl with a leather jacket, multi-colored hair, and a crowbar and sledge hammer in either hand. Atë didn’t have her usual bounce to her, nor her serial-killer-doll stare. Her shoulders slumped. She looked sad while waving her crowbar at Pax in some form of parting. Either that or a threat. With his family, you could never be sure.

           Despite being out of breath, Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. He turned from Atë, the ghost army, and the Roman defenses and ran alongside Axel towards the creepy pit of nothingness and frowny faces that had destroyed half of Hera’s cabin.

           He and Axel donned their helms for ease while running, the Silver Tongued Snake’s head narrowing his peripheral with more darkness. He stayed close to Axel, knowing his brother had better spooky time vision.

           As they stumbled back through what was left of the strawberry fields, towards the central hearth of camp, Pax wondered if this was the best choice. He hadn’t thought the ultimatum would be—A: let Euna vacation in Tartarus or B: abandon his friends to a ghost army and the Roman army, both of which probably wanted to kill them.

           Pax snapped back to the present when Axel hissed, “You didn’t tell me campers were up.”

           Ahead of them, Pax could see one of the many lumps had risen from the ground, hopefully a camper.

           Without breaking stride, Axel sprang over the camper, using the camper’s shoulder for balance. Meanwhile, Pax skid between the campers legs and rolled back into a run. In their split second of passing the camper, Pax recognized the trembling child of Hermes as Chris Rodriguez. And he was pretty sure the Leonis Caput and Silver Tongued Snake had just made Chris pee his PJ pants. Memo to self: mock Chris forever.

           “In the words of Alabaster,” Pax responded as they saw the gaping hole in front of Cabin Two. Several sleepy campers gathered around it, gawking down and saying they needed to find Chiron. “’Jack’s voice wasn’t exactly soothing.’”

           In retrospect, Pax wished he’d have said something cooler when they bolted past the gawking teenagers. Like, “Zeus’s farts smell like Aphrodite’s perfume,” since neither god would know which one he’d insulted, or “Weasels forever!” to commemorate the Triple W team that he, Axel, and Alabaster had left in the Paxmobile.  

           He didn’t have time to add on before Axel stepped into the narrow corridor with Pax following after. With each step down, the walls narrowed. By the time Pax counted step fifteen, he could feel cool stone press against the arms of his weasel sweater. The light from the campfire above them had dwindled to a mocking hint of glow off Axel’s golden helm.

           With that and the dim light of Pax’s celestial bronze daggers, all he could see was the looming Nemean Lion pelt descending ahead and the red plumes of the helm undulating in the tunnel’s slight breeze. Pax remembered stories of the Leonis Caput “stalking the labyrinth,” as the monsters liked to call it—the monsters that placed bets on how Pax’s brother would kill Roman captives.

           After Pax saw Axel win his first coliseum fight to secure their entry into Camp Othrys, Axel forbid Pax from attending the whole “stalking the labyrinth” shindig. Something about how Pax wasn’t old enough to watch R rated films? Pax had never thought about it much, since it was prime prank time, but now, he wondered if this was how the Roman victims saw his brother.

           The updraft blasted Pax’s face with the smell of… seawater? Why seawater? It would be awesome if Euna took a detour to some beachfront real-estate, but that didn’t seem to fit the whole bent on godly destruction thing.

           Axel stopped moving.

           Pax could taste salt when he swallowed. He got the uncomfortable urge to scramble back up the stairs, until the plumes on the Leonis Caput helm faded into the darkness.

           “I can’t see where we’re going,” Axel said. Pax could hear his brother puff his cheeks.

           Pax swallowed again, trying to rid himself of the ocean taste. Something felt wrong about the smell of openness in this black confinement. “Aren’t you supposed to have like, bat sense or whatever?” he squeaked.

           “I’m not sure this is part of the labyrinth,” Axel said, “If it is, either something is blocking my view, or it hasn’t linked fully into the network yet. I’m not sure how this works if Jack bent the labyrinth to his will. The labyrinth is a living thing. It doesn’t like to be controlled.”

           Axel’s voice trembled and Pax slowly put the pieces together. Cages. Confinement. Control. Santiago.

           Pax wanted to tease Axel for getting claustrophobic, but that would be like punching a honey badger in the nose: both upsetting because honey badgers are cute and because they are incredibly dangerous.

           “There’s a door here,” Axel finally said, “Be on your guard.”

           “Oh, I wanted to relax with Reese’s Sticks and Kool-Aid the whole trip to Tartarus,” Pax whispered.

           The door didn’t open the way he was expecting. Instead of hearing the click of a knob or the ominous swing of a dungeon gate like Pax had heard in video games, the barrier gave way noiselessly.

           The brightness blinded the Pax brothers when they stepped out of the darkness. Instead of some dank cavern, they exited into overcast sunlight. The brothers paused to allow their eyes to adjust to the brilliance, their bodies to the warm breeze, and their noses to the intensity of salt and smoke.

           When they’d adjusted, neither moved. Both were too stunned.

           They were on a huge ship.

           A grey ocean bled into a colorless sky every direction they looked. Parts of the deck were smoldering, the smoke curling to disappear into the bleached landscape. Various charred boards looked like they were patched together with broken dreams and wishful thinking.  

           There was a hollow carnival atmosphere to the ship, like an abandoned theme park. A pool was in the center, filled with crystal clear water and formerly white patio chairs with blue towels scattered around. A bar extended from the deck into the pool for easy access.

           Before the Pax brothers recognized any of the people drearily shambling past the broken spots in the floor, they saw the posters on the bar shack’s outer wall: one was for an Orpheus Metal concert. The depiction of Jack’s maniac grin above his emaciated body felt uncomfortable. Axel and Pax looked so much younger with their drums and guitar. That was back when Axel had long hair in a ponytail and Pax had pink highlights.[2]

           A few feet away, another poster depicted Percy Jackson with a drawn on mustache. Several knives and tail spikes protruded the wall, illustrating someone’s target practice.

           Axel didn’t need to see the mast’s statue of a princess in chains to state, “This is the Princess Andromeda cruise ship.”

           They both puffed up their cheeks and popped them.

           Axel and Pax removed their helmets and attached them to their belts so it was easier to look around.

           Pax felt himself tremble. He glanced at the door they’d come through, only to find a Johnny Rocket’s entrance. The circular window in the center of the door showed the remains of a food fight in the restaurant. But there were no grinning Camp Othrys members. Just a few people scrubbing the floor with their heads down. Something about them looked familiar.

           “But… but why is it here? And… and how? Did the whole ship decide to take a joy ride out of Tartarus? Are we in Tartarus already?” Pax whispered.

           Axel shook his head. He clenched his jaw, trying to pretend the sight of their dilapidated ship didn’t bother him. “What did Jack say when he sang?”

           “What? The song about geography?”

           “No,” Axel shook his head, “It’s about being there for a lover and conquering geography to get to them, right?”

           “I don’t listen to old people music and I was a little preoccupied with the earth splitting to listen to lyrics. But, if it was something about that, then why are we on a ship looking for Jack’s lov—”

           Then Pax saw her.

           He felt like he’d eaten a full backpack’s supply of walnuts. The world tunneled until everything was fuzzy but her black, jagged hair and her mutilated, scarred face. Pax didn’t know he’d stopped breathing until he gasped out, “Flynn.”

           She was mopping the deck, staring at the boards with that icy, absent glare she often got when Jack wasn’t around. Like when he’d last seen her at the Massacre of Mount Othrys, her legs and lower waist looked crippled and crushed from where Jason Grace had blasted a pillar onto her and Krios, and from when Pax couldn’t protect her like he’d promised Jack he would.

           The random shades doing chores on the boat weren’t strangers. They were their friends that died during the war.

           Pax could feel his cold sweat when Flynn looked up at the sound of her name. Her eyes softened for an indiscernible moment, then they narrowed. Get the fuck out of here, she mouthed.

           Yep. That was Flynn.

           But Pax couldn’t move. He felt too nauseous. He wanted to curl up and sob on Axel’s arm, but he also wanted to never touch another human again.

           Axel would have normally noticed his brother’s increase into hyperventilation, but movement from one of the only non-ghosts aboard distracted him.

           A beautiful woman stretched out on one of the white beach chairs. There was another non-ghost beside her, lounging on a chair facing away from them. All Axel could see was the man’s muddy sandals.

           She folded up her tanning reflector, set it on the stool beside her, picked up a bottle of suntan lotion and a fruity drink, and stood.

           For an instant, Axel thought it was Reyna. The woman’s hair billowed in loose, black waves down her back. A complicated, revealing purple swimsuit clung tightly to her caramel skin, one with way too many unnecessary straps. Something Reyna would never wear.

           “Fei Lin, my wonderful daughter, you missed a few spots on the deck. And you forgot it’s rude not to properly welcome guests,” the woman said with a warmth of a pillow used to smoother puppies.

           She’d walked up to Axel before he smelled the aroma of roses intermixed with the smoke and seawater.

           Faster than he could block, Aphrodite slapped him across the face with the bottle of suntan lotion. “You,” she said with the same tight sweetness, “scorned me for a demigod. And not just any demigod, one that gets all sweaty and gross from fighting too much, and reads really boring books!”

           Axel thought about breaking Aphrodite’s neck. The more childish side of him wanted to uncork that suntan lotion bottle and pour it on her hair, since he knew it would make her squeal and amuse Pax.

           But Pax was trembling so violently, Axel feared the shakes might dislodge a floorboard and drop them into the mess hall. Pax probably wouldn’t notice Aphrodite’s cringe.

           They didn’t have time for the Goddess of Love. He hadn’t registered that she’d stopped her night visits when they got to New Rome. Too much had happened.

           And this wasn’t the place for a confrontation. He needed to get Pax away fast.

           Axel focused on Aphrodite’s ear, to prevent himself from identifying any of the ghosts around them, and to decrease the effectiveness of her love magic. Despite his attempts, he was furious to find himself thinking about nipping her lobe.

           “Why did you bring us here?” he demanded, trying to find something wrong on Aphrodite to ward off any attraction.

           “Eris brat, take this,” Aphrodite instructed, handing the bottle to his little brother.

           Pax squeaked as the charmspeak took over. He reflexively extended a trembling, sweaty hand. Tears streaked down his cheeks when he glanced from the goddess to Flynn, who had gone back to swabbing the deck.

           Aphrodite began to rub herself down with the lotion, moving her straps in a way that made Axel avert his gaze. Each motion was so deliberate and tender. He tried to picture Reyna’s face when they were cleaning up the war tent, the way her cloak had loosened on one side to look goofy and lopsided, the strands that had come out of her braid—

           “Stop that,” Aphrodite snarled, the sweetness temporarily dissipating. When Axel glanced back at her, she went back to smiling and applying lotion.

           “I didn’t bring you here. I was just having a pleasant, quiet vacation with one of my lovers and your friends interrupted it. The Plague Bringer and the clueless daughter of Demeter, right?” She sighed and went to flip her hair, though the locks had shortened to a dark, pixie cut and her eyes shifted from dark to brilliant blue. “It seems like Jack was looking for his love as a way to lead him and his friend to Tartarus. Oh, Jack and Flynn’s love story!” She grabbed the suntan lotion from a flinching Pax and hugged the bottle to her chest. “Such a delightfully tragic one. Just a pity the heroine forsook her beauty and cut up her face.”

           Flynn had stopped mopping. She glared at her mother in a way that told Axel—if Flynn’s charmspeak worked on Aphrodite, Flynn would force her mother do worse than cut up her face.

           “Flynn’s still beautiful,” Pax whispered.

           Aphrodite dabbed the lotion along the ridge of her brow and gave the bottle back to Pax. He jumped. “That’s cute and sweet of you to say that, Ajax. Peitho[3] and I were wondering if saying that makes you feel better about what happened.”

           “Which way did they go?” Axel interrupted. Out of all their fallen comrades, Pax had the hardest time with Flynn. Pax could make jokes about everyone else, and reminisce on stories, or cry about how much he missed Alabaster, but never anything about Flynn. Axel didn’t need Aphrodite teasing his little brother when the dead girl was in front of them.

           A glance down at Pax confirmed Axel’s suspicion. Pax was biting his lip to keep himself as together as the softhearted kid could.      

           “Hm?” Aphrodite asked, “Did you say you wanted my help?” In a gesture that looked absentminded, she took the suntan lotion from Pax and motioned it towards Axel. Meanwhile, she licked the rim of her fruity drink.

           Axel had nothing to bargain. He could try to kill her again, but that had left him on his knees, pining over her for weeks. He knew what she wanted, but he could never humiliate himself like that. As much as the smell of her perfume made him want to droop his eyes, they were surrounded by the destruction caused by negligent, vengeful, and sadistic parenting by her and gods like her.

           A thunk came from the chairs by the pool. Aphrodite’s boyfriend stood up, stretched, and slung an AK-47 across his back. He wasn’t wearing a shirt over his muscles, but did have a scarf tied around his head to hide his face, like a Somalian pirate. His sunglasses blazed with a backlit fire. Just the sight of him made Axel furious.

           Aphrodite sighed and tossed her suntan lotion onto the ground.

           “Oh, you’re not going to be able to follow your friends off this ship. If you want to tail them, you’ll have to go a different route, assuming I let you,” Ares said, smirking.

           Axel scowled. Any worry he had about Aphrodite’s wiles evaporated in the presence of the war god. He reflexively went to grab his sword hilt, only to remember that all his weapons other than his obsidian blades were in pieces in the Paxmobile. He didn’t even have his frying pan.

           “What in Xibalba are you doing in Tartarus?” Axel snarled.

           “What in Tartarus are you doing in Tartarus,” Pax corrected quietly.

           The war god gave a billowing laugh. “We’re not in Tartarus! What? Did you forget I control the souls and vessels of all the fallen losers in battle? Hades and I had a field day—”

           “—Fields of punishment day—” Pax said.

           “—drawing lots on who got your crew.” Ares reached over and ruffled Flynn’s hair. Axel could feel her hatred. He remembered how she’d publically humiliate people if they dared to initiate contact with her at Camp Othrys. Well, everyone other than Jack or Pax.

           Although Axel hadn’t always agreed with Flynn’s brutal methods, he found himself wondering how he could free her and the rest of his crew from servitude to this godly child. But where else would their souls go? Could they have a worse fate?

           Ares released Flynn. He cracked his neck. “I couldn’t justify getting Jack though. He had to get his own specialized eternal torment. Though, it looks like he’s got the Orpheus curse now.”    

           As much as Axel wanted to obliterate his least favorite couple off this ship, Euna and Jack were getting further away every second, and Pax looked closer and closer to a mental breakdown.

           Axel set a hand on his brother’s arm.

           Pax flinched.

           Axel withdrew and frowned. “Ajax, let’s get out of here. I’m sure we can find another labyrinth entrance somewhere on the ship. I think we had one in the boiler room.”

           If there was one thing Axel knew gods hated, it was being ignored. He went to gently corral Pax towards the Johnny Rocket’s entrance.

           “Oh, you think I’m going to let you go after you helped Hephaestus gather the parts for his giant rat trap?” Ares asked.

           Rat trap? Axel paused. He remembered Hephaestus hiring him for a retrieval quest in exchange for the location of Leo Valdez.

           “Ugh, Stygian ice is SO bad for your skin!” Aphrodite complained. When Axel glanced back, he could see both she and Ares rub their arms at the distasteful memory.

           Despite everything, Axel crackled a smile. He hoped Hephaestus enjoyed hatching whatever trap he’d concocted.

           Pax released a nervous laugh. Since Axel had directed him away from Flynn, color started to return to his face.

           Ares seemed too relaxed with their reactions. The war god lowered his hands, resting one on the pistol grip of his rifle. “I gotta hand it to you, kid. Normally, I like punks like you with all of your spirit and anger—”

           “—oh, it’s monologuing time—” Pax said.

           “—but, at least pricks like Percy are useful. You… I haven’t hated anyone as much as you since Ghandi.”

           “Give me a medal of honor,” Axel grunted.

           “After upsetting this fine lady—” Ares gestured beside him to where Aphrodite was examining her perfect nails like she wasn’t part of the conversation. “—I’ve been thinking a lot—”

           “That must have been very difficult for you,” Pax said sympathetically. Axel probably should have stopped Pax’s side commentary, but he was a bit too proud of his little brother to do so.

           The war god seemed unfazed as he finished, “—thinking about what to do with you.”

           “I’ve beaten you before, Ares,” Axel reminded him, struggling to ward off a smirk.

           Though… Axel wasn’t sure he could defeat Ares now. He had no weapons but his claws and teeth. He was exhausted from fighting Percy and Reyna. And he needed to keep Pax safe and hunt down Euna and Jack. Plus, there was the ghost army at Camp Half-Blood with Reyna…

           Axel thought about continuing to ignore Ares to find the closest labyrinth entrance. Then every ghost on this ship—all their dead friends—would be sent after him and Pax to drag them back to the deck.

           He was not in the strategic position to smirk. Axel sighed.

           “No… no…” Ares chuckled and unslung his rifle. As though to emphasis how unnecessary the weapon would be, he leaned it against the closest patio chair. “You’re not going to fight me. See, I’ve been Googling the best godly punishments. Normally, I just kill people.” Ares shrugged. “But I found out Hera had a way more brutal suggestion.”

           Axel wanted to make some snarky comment about a 4,000 year old man going to his mother for advice, but the words died on his lips.

           “Some little myth about a guy named Hercules? Something about his first family…?” Ares said.

           Aphrodite giggled.

           Axel couldn’t puff up his cheeks and pop them. His insides felt frozen.

           Ares couldn’t do that, could he? That wasn’t normally in Hera’s department of power either but, she was the queen of the gods—

           But Axel could already feel his claws lengthening without his consent.

           From the energized grin on Ares’ face, the god knew what Axel was thinking. He slung an arm over Aphrodite’s shoulder and pulled her close as they watched Axel struggle with himself. “I know you love to hunt and battle, kid. Now you’ll hunt and battle the things that you love. I think that’s well within Aphrodite’s and my domain.”

           Throughout their trip down Jack’s corridor and onto the ghost ship, and—really—throughout most of his interactions with the Greek gods, Axel hadn’t been scared. Annoyed and enraged? Definitely. Now, for what Axel thought was the first time ever, he found himself trembling in fear before a god.

           When Pax saw Axel’s shaking hands reach up and clutch his head, Pax asked, “Um, Lord of Primordial Awesome?”

           “Ajax…” Axel whispered, “Run.”

 We’re almost at the end! Only one chapter and an epilogue to go!!!! :D Thanks for reading! *ehem* please don’t kill the author.... >>’‘

Footnote:

[1] As Mel pointed out: books Pax should write.

[2] This is actually a continuity error from Ch 21, Blood of a Mayan. Making a note here for me to fix it (since I care deeply about my character’s hair… apparently?) XD

[3] Goddess/personified spirit of persuasion, seduction, and charming speech.

[kylekozmikdeluxo]

The Beach Boys’ SUNFLOWER.

No anniversary or anything, just some continued discussion on one of The Beach Boys’ greatest studio albums. Often agreed to be, technically, the best of the post-PET SOUNDS Beach Boys long-players, SUNFLOWER is a record abundant in rich production, ace songwriting, and the quirky charm that only the Brothers’ Wilson and accomplices could bring...

SUNFLOWER sounds like a lot of work went into it, each song is produced so sumptuously, with arrangements and enough layers to put layer cake to shame. A record mostly free of the cynicism and aura of 1970, standing the test of time and sounding fresh long after its initial bow. That said, it did arrive with some little flaws, which was a byproduct of The Beach Boys machine post-WILD HONEY.

Recently, I came across album engineer Stephen Desper’s study videos on The Beach Boys, SUNFLOWER, and the various songs that didn’t make the cut. SUNFLOWER was mainly recorded from fall 1969 to the weeks before its August release date, but a handful of recordings on here actually date back to the first quarter of 1969, when The Beach Boys were about to enter a legal scuffle with their former record label, Capitol Records. Over time, some songs from these sessions were ported over to the finished album to enhance it.

It is well-known that in February 1970, The Beach Boys already had something of a finished album on hand, despite signing with Warner Bros./Reprise Records in mid-November of the previous year. An acetate was sent to WB executives and their top dog, Mo Ostin. Ostin believed in The Beach Boys and knew they were more than what the public had perceived them to be. After a chain of mishaps during the Summer of Love (1967, for anyone who may not know), The Beach Boys lost all of their popularity and respect on American soil. Americans, from buyers to critics, mostly turned their backs on Brian, Dennis, Carl, Mike, Al, and Bruce...

Despite great quality singles and albums, just about everything released from fall 1967 to the end of 1970 was a sales flop, even SUNFLOWER, which flopped the hardest of any album of theirs to date. Europe was far more enthusiastic and loving of the new-phase Beach Boys. SUNFLOWER fared far better in Europe, as did just about all their singles, and their albums SMILEY SMILE, WILD HONEY, FRIENDS, and 20/20.

Ostin knew these guys weren’t the “outdated surfing Doris Days” that the American public thought they were. Ostin was not pleased with the first acetate that was submitted, saying it lacked a potential hit single and that the men could do much better than that...

The first acetate, which Desper provided via his videos, actually wasn’t too bad. You can recreate it yourself with existing SUNFLOWER tracks and bootlegs of the others, as they would be remixed or revised for future albums... We’ll be looking at those.

SUNFLOWER’s February 1970 configuration had the following track listing.

SIDE ONE - ‘Susie Cincinnati,’ ‘Good Time,’ ‘Our Sweet Love,’ ‘Tears in the Morning,’ ‘When Girls Get Together,’ and ‘Slip On Through.’

SIDE TWO - ‘Add Some Music to Your Day,’ ‘Take a Load Off Your Feet,’ ‘This Whole World,’ ‘I Just Got My Pay,’ ‘At My Window,’ and ‘Lady’

There are plenty of great songs here, and some weaker ones. You can see why Mo would reject this one... What with songs like ‘When Girls Get Together’ present, and some less-than-PET SOUNDS ditties like ‘Take a Load Off Your Feet’ and ‘Got My Pay’...

‘Good Time’ would later be released in 1977 on the album LOVE YOU. On that album, the original recording is reworked. Its vocals are radically different, and the ending note is cut short by a fade-out. Additional vocals were added to certain sections. The original 1970 version sounds much closer to version done by Brian’s wife Marilyn Wilson and sister-in-law Diane Rovell, which uses the Beach Boys recording and backing vocals, with the ladies’ vocals on top. The duo would be known as American Spring, and would get an album out in 1972.

‘Tears in the Morning’ ended up making it to the finished SUNFLOWER, but it was produced a lot differently. ‘Tears in the Morning’ was always criticized for being a corny, lounge-lizard song... I never really got that out of the released version, the production sweetened it up and made it sound more like a traditional pop song. The original mix prepared for the February 1970 acetate is a country kilometer away... Not only is the actual Vegas/lounge aesthetic all over it, but the “teeeeeears” crooning is thankfully drowned out by brass! This is the version that should’ve been released, not what we ended up getting... But who am I to say? The Dutch sent the song - released as a single in various European territories - to the Top 10.

‘When Girls Get Together’ was later released on 1980′s KEEPIN’ THE SUMMER ALIVE, the point - in my opinion - where The Beach Boys as an entity officially checked out. I always felt this song was undone by its awful (and likely sexist) lyrics, but I became fascinated by its sound... It’s driven by a marxophone and brass, giving it a strange, stereotypically Italian-like sound. I had located an instrumental backing track for the song a year ago, which was laid down in March 1969. So much effort went into this track, why were the lyrics so insipid?

In 1976, ‘When Girls Get Together’ was dusted off and was being considered for a new album release. It is assumed that around this time, it received the mix that we hear on KEEPIN’ THE SUMMER ALIVE. The mix on KEEPIN’ completely buries what’s so neat about this song, adding a thumping drum track that drowns out all the little nuances... When hearing the instrumental backing track for the first time, I was so impressed - and puzzled. Finally, I was able to hear the original 1970 via this acetate... The lyrics still suck, but the vocals nicely match the song’s structure, so it’s a pleasant listen in this form. Why couldn’t they have simply released this version on KEEPIN’? The modifications here ruin it, which I think is something that plagues a couple other leftovers from this era.

‘Take a Load Off Your Feet’ was ported over to SUNFLOWER’s follow-up, SURF’S UP, in 1971. Al Jardine’s jokey ditty about foot care and the health craze of the era received some modifications in ‘71. An echoey effect is added to the end of the first two choruses. Not a bad addition, but was it necessary? Now, for some reason, an unrelated recording is attached to the song. Perhaps taking cues from The Beatles, who hid ‘Can You Take Me Back?’ on the final side of the self-titled album, the band attached a merry-go-round snippet called ‘Carnival.’ Beautifully recreating the experience of being on a carousel (perhaps a little too much, if were to believe the account of a WB executive concerned about the recording possibly making people feel dizzy!), it ultimately didn’t make it to the album and remains unreleased. Shame.

‘Lady’ is the closing track of this acetate, a very minimalist Dennis Wilson ballad that was essentially the prelude to his soulful, mellow work. ‘Lady’ was, for some reason, released as a solo single B-side in late 1970 in Europe only. (The A-side was another SUNFLOWER leftover, ‘Sound of Free.’) It’s credited to Dennis Wilson and Daryl Dragon (later Captain of Captain and Tennille), who goes under the pseudonym Rumbo. In the vault for years and years because of a legal issue, it low-key saw release on a Super Furry Animals collection of songs that inspired them. The Beach Boys enterprise officially released the song in 2009, a mix apparently finalized in 2005 utilizing vocals and overdubs the band added to the recording in presumably the mid-to-late 1970s.

While I did like the song a great deal, it was the original 1970 production that pleasantly surprised me. I feel the remixed version makes something a little too produced out of what’s supposed to be a more raw recording. That version of the song would’ve fit in nicely on SURF’S UP, had it not been released as the B-side of a solo single. Think of it as a sort of ‘Long and Winding Road’ situation, where it started out as something simple and to-the-point, but got a little lost in overproduction. Fun fact, the song also carried the title ‘Fallin’ in Love.’

Ostin firmly rejects the acetate. The band goes back to the drawing board and whips up several new recordings. The next acetate is compiled in June 1970, a disc that negates nearly half of the previous disc! Strangely enough, the band lightly dips their finger into the early 1969 bowl of recordings, and selects two tracks for inclusion.

SIDE ONE - ‘Loop De Loop,’ ‘Susie Cincinnati,’ ‘San Miguel,’ ‘H.E.L.P. is on the Way,’ ‘Take a Load Off Your Feet’/’Carnival,’ ‘I Just Got My Pay’

SIDE TWO - ‘Good Time,’ ‘Big Sur,’ ‘Lady,’ ‘When Girls Get Together,’ ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow,’ and ‘’Til I Die.’

‘Loop De Loop’ was Al Jardine’s redo of a Brian song from mid-1968 called ‘Sail Plane Song,’ turning an ominous psychedelic piece into a vaudevillian carnival romp about barnstorming. ‘Loop De Loop’ wouldn’t see a release in any form until 1998, when it was included on the soundtrack to the VH1 documentary ENDLESS HARMONY. Vocals were changed up here and there, more carnival effects and a barker voice were added to strengthen the atmosphere. The modifications work, Al was happy with the completed product... But this original mix from 1969 works as well. Why they chose this out of the 1969 recordings is beyond me, though. Why they included this, and kept the jokey ‘Take a Load Off Your Feet,’ ‘H.E.L.P. is on the Way,’ ‘and ‘I Just Got My Pay.’

The acetate is a weird mix of the silly, the serene, and the devastating. (’’Til I Die,’ anyone?) Were they that upset by Ostin’s rejection? Why are the wonderful ‘Our Sweet Love,’ ‘This Whole World,’ and ‘Slip On Through’ absent? Most of the late 1969 stuff isn’t here at all.

Another early 1969 recording is here, and fits well, Dennis’ rousing ‘San Miguel.’ Unfortunately not released until 1981, this song should’ve definitely made it to the final line-up!

The disc also houses the fan favorite ‘Big Sur,’ the original, quiet, mesmerizing version of what would later become a waltz that appeared on 1973′s HOLLAND. Also on here is Brian’s dopey but oh-so-sincere health foods paean, ‘H.E.L.P. is on the Way.’

Side two ends with two songs that later ended up on SURF’S UP, and both were modified for that album. ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow’ was given an echo effect much like ‘Take a Load Off,’ and I feel it takes away from the warm, folksy feel of the original. I know that ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow’ is viewed as a misfire, especially amongst the SURF’S UP tracks, but I always had a soft spot for it. This more stripped down-sounding version, without the gimmicky echoing, only made me appreciate it more. ‘’Til I Die’ doesn’t have its verses, but sounds pretty much the same here.

I think both acetates capture a certain mood. The Feb 1970 one displays the enthusiasm they had once they were freeing themselves from Capitol, finding a new label, and looking at a possibly bright future. This can be heard in songs like ‘This Whole World’ and ‘Slip On Through.’ At the same time, there’s a jovial, humorous tone throughout, which doesn’t always spell hit potential. Ostin was right to reject it.

Acetate Two sounds a little moodier by contrast, despite porting over most of the fun tracks from the previous disc. An aura emphasized on SURF’S UP. ‘’Til I Die’ perhaps is the reason why, but you also have the mellowness of ‘Big Sur’ and ‘Lady,’ none of the booming productions on Acetate One or the finished product. There’s a real “try, try again” mood here. The inclusion of two older recordings is also kind of telling... As if they gave the first disc their all, got rejected, and couldn’t fill in the gaps.

SUNFLOWER ultimately had to be saved by using different puzzle pieces. Four recordings from early 1969 ended up being taken off of the shelf, and when you hear some of them... You wonder... Why did they sit on it for so long? (Possible legal issues, but that’s a whole other story, let me tell you...) Anyways, the recordings weren’t ‘San Miguel’ or ‘Loop De Loop.’ Instead... Tongue-in-cheek rocker ‘Got To Know the Woman,’ Bruce Johnston’s syrupy-sweet but charming ‘Deirdre,’ Brian and Mike’s ethereal ‘All I Wanna Do,’ and Dennis’ powerful ‘Forever’... Perhaps one of the greatest love songs ever conceived?

None of the new material from Acetate Two made it to the final cut. No ‘Big Sur,’ no ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow,’ no ‘H.E.L.P.,’ and certainly NO ‘’Til I Die.’ Several songs from Acetate One made it: ‘Slip On Through,’ ‘This Whole World,’ ‘Add Some Music to Your Day,’ ‘Tears in the Morning,’ ‘Our Sweet Love,’ and ‘At My Window.’

For the rest... Dennis conceived a fierce rocker called ‘It’s About Time.’ They went into the archives for the closing track. WB executive Lenny Waronker was moved by a short piece called ‘Cool, Cool Water,’ which had been recorded in late 1967 during the WILD HONEY sessions. ‘Cool, Cool Water’ was a reimagining of the “water” composition of the aborted SMiLE project, and ran about a minute or so. Combining the WILD HONEY-era recording, the SMiLE water chant, and a whole new song... It became a 5-minute ‘Cool, Cool Water.’ The incredible ending to a near-perfect album.

Very rarely have The Beach Boys ever sequenced an album like this afterwards. Though beloved by fans and critics, and certainly a fairly popular album upon its release in August 1971, SURF’S UP is too short and undone by the lack of Dennis Wilson songs, out-of-place ditties and some downright embarrassing tracks, and the rather forced “hip” factor of it. HOLLAND is perhaps unbalanced by the California Saga, and some of its longer tracks. The gleefully weirdo LOVE YOU might be a candidate, though I feel it gets a little flimsy towards the end of side two.

The original mixes of some of the leftovers make me wonder why such layers were added to begin with. As if there was no sort of confidence in those original recordings, as if they felt the need to punch them up. Why that awful drum track on ‘When Girls Get Together’? Why the echoing on ‘Lookin’ at Tomorrow’? Why the sweetening done to ‘Tears in the Morning’? Why the added strings and vocals on ‘Lady’?

You could almost construct a double-album out of all the sessions that spanned a year and a half. The Beach Boys, collectively, made the truly wise decision to pick the best of the best from all the sources to make this their best post-PET SOUNDS album. While I personally think it has a few holes, it truly is a triumph, and it’s too bad that the same lightning couldn’t be harnessed for future records, and it’s too bad that history played out the way it did with this band. Can you imagine a SURF’S UP composed of the best songs from the finished album, some great SUNFLOWER leftovers, and all those Dennis songs? Can you imagine a longer, more focused CARL AND THE PASSIONS? A less murky HOLLAND? 15 BIG ONES without the covers and more originals?

So much to dive into...

[planetcallisto]

— timepiece

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

warnings: mentions of depression, sociophobia

word count: 2957

A/N: so this is something I did a while ago and thought I should post it...well here it is

The depths of his mind were but grains of sand on a beach that stretched further than you could even imagine. And you just happened to be the oncoming tsunami of curiosity, awaiting the moment you hit the sand and finally crossed into the land of thoughts; his mind.

Tick tock, tick tock.

The sound of the clock only got louder and louder as time passed. It doesn't fade away once you glance over at him, if anything it got even louder. Sprawled out on the one-seater next to yours, his hair was messy and clothes crumpled. His lashes rested against his soft skin, slow breathes going in then coming back out.

He'd fallen asleep. Typical.

Your eyes dart around the now serene café. It had been quite busy when you first arrived but it soon calmed down and the rush of people decreased until it was only you and him in there. The waitress approached the matte black table sending you an apologetic look before scooping of the plates and heading back to the kitchen.

Was this it. A relationship built on short to the point conversations. Questions asked that were as shallow as the tide along the sand. There was so much more to know. Yoongi's mind was a foreign place to you. It was like, you were the ocean and he was the shore. You would only be able to pour over the little patch of sand that was his thoughts before receding back into your own. From time to time, a tsunami would hit and you managed to reach a little further. Each grain of sand was a different belief, and you knew you would never be able to reach the end of it.

You set your head against your hand and continued to gaze at him. Jet black hair and pale white skin. If you didn't know any better he could've been mistaken for a prince.

Why is he so exclusive.

He made a point not to talk about himself much. It was always about his work or that new song he'd been working on. But that was all you could grasp of him before he changed the subject.

It was worrying. Surpassing the two year mark of a relationship, it hit you. What did you even know about him other than his name and where he grew up. Almost nothing. Anything; you'd do anything to open the doors to his mind and wander.

What went on in there? Was it so secretive that he had to repress it so deep down inside him?

The clock suddenly got louder. Louder and louder. Your eyes dart to the ticking hands.

Was the clock ticking faster?

You blink a couple times.

A tap on the shoulder catches you off guard. It was the waitress, but there was something off about her. She was smiling, but in a way that sent shivers down your spine; the smile you would see on the face of a murderer before they committed the act.

"Have fun." She said in a hush.

Quickly you looked away and shut your eyes tightly. Your reach out to grab Yoongi's hand but you ended up swatting dead air.

Bright lights burned through your eyelids. You force them open to be met with an unblemished white wall and bright white lights, ones that you'd find in a hospital.

Where am I?

You're first instinct was to turn around.

Another white wall, but this time a frame hung in the middle of it. An empty frame. Standing up from the just-as-unblemished white bench, you step towards the frame. The aura in the room was alarmingly quiet. Almost as if you could hear the silence. If a pin fell it would echo around the room. But nothing happened.

You stood in the cubic room. Every surface was blotched with clean white paint, not a single speck anywhere to be seen.

Your eyes fall back to the empty frame. A golden hand-carved frame. It stood out so well against the blank background. What was it supposed to represent?

And then it begun. Tick tock, tick tock. Over and over. But it wasn't alone. Somewhere, in the small and empty room, a piano was being played. It set the ambiance; it was relaxing; soft and slow notes one after the other accompanied with chords, each note played in succession.

The entire time your eyes haven't left the frame and you're glad they didn't. A stroke of pale blue paint marked the wall. Then another and another. It all happened so quickly that you didn't have time to process what was going on until it was done. A picture of a boy, or rather, a man. Pale skin, colourful hair and soft lips. That first thought that came to your head was, 'Is this Yoongi?'

He had a faint expression on his face. Happiness, maybe. It set a smile on your face. Seeing him so tranquil was rare. Though he was the only patch of colour in the entire room, it fit. Like it was meant to be there.

Before you could lose yourself more in your thoughts, the clock ticked louder. You turned around and found that one of the walls had disappeared. Behind you was now a never ending hallway. Unsurprisingly it was just as pristine as the room you had previously been in. Hesitantly you strolled down the hallway. For a while it was nothing but two walls on either side of you but it was spacious. It felt as if you were walking through a castle, a plain, bleached, castle. You matched your foot steps with the ticking of the clock.

Tick tock, tick tock.

There was no timepiece insight, it seemed to be coming from the outside. It echoed down the long hallway and resonated every time a second had passed by.

A doll. A marionette to be more specific. It felt like someone tied your legs to long pieces of yarn and forced you in the direction opposite where you saw the painting. Almost as if you were a doll in a dollhouse, entrapped in your own world and unbeknownst to you, there was an outside world. You were being controlled and there were events occurring outside your known reality. Is that why the clock and piano sound like they are coming from outside the walls?

Just as the thought left your mind, the music changed. It transformed from a soft, placid tone to something more upbeat. Like the music you would hear from a carnival game.

Not too far in front of you was another frame. This time it was a little rusted, but that definitely didn't take away from it's beauty.

Unlike the other painting, this one was formed using quick rough strokes. The lines were messy and uneven. It looked like if someone had tried to outline a drawing multiple times and failed each time; somehow it still satisfied you. The art style itself gave the painting an entirely new meaning than the first. His smile was just as at peace as before. His eyes though, they seemed a little distressed. The darkness around his eyes was blatantly obvious.

Was he tired? Was he sick?

This single work of art managed to evoke enough thought to fill an entire desert with sand. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

"Pfft," you breathe, "that's so cliché."

It was a while before you were able to shift your gaze from the painting. As much as you didn't want to continue down the empty path, it intrigued you. And besides, you had wandered far enough down the hall that no matter in what direction you looked, all there was a long winding hallway. Thus, you continued your adventure.

The sounds of the clocked were now etched into your brain. Tick tock, tick tock. You were not even sure if the clock was still ticking or if the sound was coming from your head. But nonetheless, it was ominous.

Notes from the piano grew dark. Dark in the way that when you heard them play in such specific succession, instead of painting an image in your mind, it seized your thoughts and left you completely and utterly speechless. The ticks of the ghost clock got significantly louder, as if to tell you that time was slipping away from you. It made you quicken your pace.

Is it getting tighter in here?

Your breath shallowed when it was blatantly obvious that the hallway was gradually becoming narrower. The music amplified just as something odd caught your eye. A blotch of black paint stained the wall to your right. It was like someone had tried to paint a circle but the paint dripped down and ruined it. A single black mark. But as the hallway narrowed even further, more black blemishes were splattered across the wall, but this time in a much more erratic way. You felt like you were suddenly in an insane asylum and instead of showing you ink blots on a paper, it was all over the walls.

Each blotch on the wall started to take form, literally. Swiftly, they whisked away from their original places and all gathered at one point to create a perplexing image. A man, the same one you had seen in the last two pictures, was painted on the wall. Or rather thrown there. Like someone had taken a bucket filled with black paint and hurled it at the white surface hoping it would take form on it's own. And it did. The area where he eyes should've been was overlaid with red paint, bright and irritating. The red paint dripped onto the ground onto the puddle in the ground that was already forming. Anyone could figure out that this person had gone through a lot in his life. It's like he wanted to block his eyes so that he would never have to look back at the past ever again.

Just as the red paint hit the floor the piano hit a loud minor chord. It sent a shiver down your spine how everything you were seeing and hearing were in such perfect harmony. You dismissed it before, but never have you felt this controlled in your life. Like a helpless lost soul who got sucked into the middle of a perfectly orchestrated affair.

Tick tock, tick tock.

Your legs moved on their own. You craned your neck to get one last glance of the eerie painting before you were forced down the dimly lit corridor. The once scant black spots now filled the walls on either side leaving only a couple white marks left; the ones that didn't manage to make it. Suffocated by the malicious monster that is greed, wanting more and more space on the wall until they'd eaten themselves to death.

It felt like you had been walking forever. The same black stained walls. The same flickering chandeliers. The same pace that matched the ticking of the clock. The only thing that had changed was the music. High pitched staccatos were all but comforting. The hallway had narrowed to the point where your arms would bend at the elbows if you tried to stretch them. Your legs were tired and your feet were sore. But what could you do about it. You wanted to stop, you tried to, but it felt like you were a wind-up toy. Walking and walking before suddenly halting to a stop to only be wound up again and pushed along.

Oh my god.

And at that moment you stopped. Ahead of you was something you've been dreading to see even if you didn't know it until now. Pictures by the hundreds. Ripped and burned and cut; morbidly mutilated and in the most alarming ways possible. If you didn't know any better you would've mistaken the dirty red paint for blood. Hues of purple, red and blue were splattered all over the walls, the ceiling above you and even the ground. Words were spray painted in the wall by someone who seemed to be in a hurry. The letters out of like and overlapping.

My parents said they truly don't understand me. My sociophobia developed at 18. Self hatred and depression have eaten me alive.

And it went on and on. No longer were you held back by a higher power. You were free to roam around the inner workings of his mind. The one you were so desperate to see but once you were finally witnessing it, you'd wished you weren't so selfish.

Something to your left catches your eye. A photo. The only one that had not be mangled to it's last breath. Pristine and crisp. You took one step closing any space you had in-between the wall to inspect it. The two people looked familiar. In fact the photo itself was awfully recognizable.

Wasn't this the photo we took a few days ago?

And surely, the more you thought about it, the more the photo revealed until it was obviously you and Yoongi. The picture was taken off guard. Both of you were smiling. It started a warm fire in your heart. His smile was the only one that could bring you this much joy. Before you could reminisce any longer, the photo was whisked away from your fingertips by a sudden cold wind.

Run, was the first thing that came to mind. With your arm outstretched and your fingers spread you ran after the photo. There was no way you were gonna let such an innocent photo get caught up with all the pain and agony that was etched into the space. You have one last leap of hope to catch the photo but you were caught. The lace in your shoe got tangled into one of the fallen down frames. Frantically you tried to free yourself but it was already too late.

Ironic, isn't it.

You wanted to free yourself only to run down the hallway you had been trapped in for god knows how long.

Your stomach sank. The music was now different. Instead of setting the mood for a murder, it was soft but odd. Just enough to keep you on edge. Letting out a sigh you continue down the hallway trying to disregard all the horrifying photos and messages spanned over every surface.

Tick tock, tick tock.

You kept your eyes glued to the ground, managing to block out most of the chaos that was occurring around you. Nothing managed to really scare you until you came across a sentence written in bright red paint.

Min Yoongi is dead. I killed him.

And that was all you needed to know. Yoongi had always been like the moon to you. Close enough to admire it and see all its flaws, but too far away to get to know anything more. Now you realized why he never spoke about himself. There was so much pandemonium going on in his own mind, what made you think he'd talk to you before he could understand himself. It pained you to see such an innocent soul be tortured like this. There was much more to him than you had ever imagined. Not one step further, not a single step. There's a reason he's never opened up to the world and you didn't want to be the pressuring voice in his head telling him to do so. You'd already seen all that you needed to. You had cut apart the chains that enclosed the deepest parts of his mind. You'd seen the darkest parts of his past and the alarming thoughts that floated around.

You laugh when you remember what that lady had said before you were dropped in this maze,  'Have fun.'

Maybe it was better that Yoongi stayed mysterious.

You turned around, ready to make your way back to the first room when you were met with a clean white wall. Quickly you spin to see that you were back where you had begun; the same serene music filled the room. But this time you weren't alone. A familiar jet black haired figure sat on the neck you were previously seated on. His head was tilted up to the painting that hung in front of him. The two of you. It was the photo that had been forcefully taken from you. It was brought to the empty white room and sat in the beautiful golden frame. Your eyes fell to his messy hair. You wanted to reach out and touch him. Every bone in your body wanted to throw itself at him and hug him until this was all over. You wanted to show all the love you conserved for him.

Tick tock, tick tock.

You stepped closer, one baby step at a time. And once you were close enough you reached out and-

"Y/N, wake up."

"Come on get up."

"YAH GET UP-"

A forceful tap on the shoulder made you jump. Your eyes shot open and your heart pounded fast.

His hands found yours and he held them tightly, "Let's go home and sleep."

You glanced down at the matte black table sat between you two. Slowly you nod your head and stand up. He didn't waste any time and interlocked his fingers with yours and tugged on your arm, pulling you towards the door. Skimming over his thin figure, you smile. Yoongi's mind was much like you

expected. Enough thoughts to fill an entire shore with sand and it just so happens that you were the ocean. You tried so hard to reach out further and further until you realized that there were some places you just couldn't get to. And maybe it's best left that way. Besides, no one likes a tsunami.

Yoongi opened the door and ushered you to go ahead of him. You took a step outside and he followed. And the last thing you heard before the door was shut was the two words that would never retake their innocent meaning.

"Have fun."

[classicfilmfreak]

New Post has been published on http://www.classicfilmfreak.com/2018/02/08/the-incredible-shrinking-man-1957-starring-grant-williams-and-william-schallert/

The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957) starring Grant Williams and William Schallert

Never feared before, now a household cat and a cellar spider become threatening monsters to an unfortunate man who discovers he’s slowly becoming smaller and smaller and smaller. . . .

On the surface, it doesn’t seem to have much to offer.  The Incredible Shrinking Man has no big-name stars, few of them known today.  Its top-billed actor, Grant Williams, hardly a “star” in the remotest sense of the word, received his checks for generally B pictures and a much longer career in television.  All this without much distinction or recognition, though this film is his claim to fame, however tenuous.

The Incredible Shrinking Man came toward the end of the monster-creature-mutant-spacemen flicks, that “fabulous” time—depending upon one’s viewpoint!—of the 1950s, and yet the film is somehow in a class all its own.  If not strictly a part of them, it is among the best of the general type represented by alien spacemen (The Day the Earth Stood Still, 1951), radioactively enlarged insects (Them!,1954) and devil monsters (Curse of the Demon, 1957).

No monster or alien being arrives to devastate humankind and crumble skyscrapers in The Incredible Shrinking Man.  This is, rather, the plight of a single man, previously isolated in his complacent world, who is gradually reduced in size, shrinking so small that common things—a domestic cat, a spider, even water or cellar stairs—become his monsters and obstacles.

Along with the special effects, advanced and impressive in their day, a definite plus is the source novel by Richard Matheson and his resulting screenplay, shared with the uncredited Richard Alan Simmons.  This explains why the story-line and writing make the movie so convincing.  Matheson was one of Rod Serling’s chief supporting writers, along with Charles Beaumont, in the Twilight Zone TV series (1959-64).

Horror writer Stephen King was impressed by the way Matheson wrote: “He was the first guy I ever read who seemed to be doing something that Lovecraft [horror writer of The Rats in the Wall, The Call of Cthulhu, etc.] wasn’t doing. . . .  [T]he horror could be in the Seven-Eleven store down the block . . . [and] that was a revelation that was extremely exciting.  He was putting the horror in places that I could relate to.”

Which is exactly what Matheson does with The Incredible Shrinking Man: he brings terror and fear directly into the suburban home, where, to paraphrase Alfred Hitchcock, it belongs.

Scott (Williams) narrates his own story and begins: “The strange, almost unbelievable story of Robert Scott Carey began on a very ordinary summer day. . . . ”

He and his wife Louise (Randy Stuart) are lounging in their swim suits on his brother’s (Paul Langton) sailboat.  While she is below deck, a peculiar mist rises unexpectedly and when she returns the cloud has passed.  Her husband’s chest is covered in a strange, glittering powder.

(Except for its five-second ominous opening, the main title music has been non-threatening, with a lyrical trumpet solo, quite different from the usual noisy apprehension that opens most ’50s horror films.  Two of the quartet of composite score composers are mainstays of the B movie horror genre, Hans J. Salter and Herman Stein.  The neutral music that has continued into the film abruptly changes to disturbed harmonies with this strange mist, telling the audience . . . this isn’t good.)

Before long, Scott notices that his trousers are too big, his shirt sleeves too long and that he’s lost weight.  Dr. Bramson (William Schallert, In the Heat of the Night, 1967) isn’t particularly worried, but sends him to a research institute.  Dr. Silver (Raymond Bailey, Mr. Drysdale in The Beverley Hillbillies, 1962-71) discovers an unusual chemical in Scott’s body.  Possibly his contact with insecticides years ago and this recent radioactive mist have, together, rearranged the molecular structure of his cells.

Before long, Scott has shrunk to three feet high.  Even when Dr. Silver gives him an anti-toxin that arrests the shrinking but cannot return him to normal, Scott becomes more depressed.  He wanders into a carnival of dwarfs and meets Clarice (April Kent), who assists him in writing an autobiography.

Before long, he realizes he’s become even shorter than Clarice—the anti-toxin no longer works—and, weeks later, he has diminished to only a few inches high.  He now lives in a dollhouse.

One day when Louise goes to the store and forgets about the family cat (Orangey, This Island Earth, 1955, The Comedy of Terrors, 1963), the animal batters the dollhouse and Scott flees, falling into a sewing basket at the foot of the cellar stairs.

He is able to climb out of the basket and adjusts as best he can to this new basement world: “The cellar stretched before me like some vast primeval plain, empty of life, littered with the relics of a vanished race.”

(Whenever Williams’ narration is absent, the film is then supported only by the music score, which matches well the desperate man’s struggles.)

Scott drinks from a dripping pipe and lives in an empty matchbox.  When the basement floods from a broken pipe, he avoids being swept into a drain by clinging to a pencil.  After his efforts to free a fragment of cheese from a mousetrap are foiled, he retrieves a piece of bread from a seemingly inaccessible ledge, only to have to flee from a spider.

Thinking Scott dead, Louise leaves the house with the help of Charlie.  They cannot hear his shouts for help, his voice a whisper (Williams’ narrative voice continues throughout unchanged, despite the enormous shortening of his vocal chords; other physiological changes/impossibilities are also shown incorrectly).

After a few successes in his new world, including killing the spider, Scott is encouraged and resolves “ . . . as man had dominated the world of the sun, so I would dominate my world.”

Small enough now to pass through a ventilation screen, he steps outside and stands studying the sky: “I felt my body dwindling, melting, becoming nothing.  My fears melted away and in their place came acceptance.  All this vast majesty of creation, it had to mean something.  Yes, smaller than the smallest, I meant something, too.”

This existential ending, a much longer monologue than the portion quoted, and supposedly added by director Jack Arnold, was not a traditional Hollywood “happy” ending at the time.  The studio executives wanted it changed.  Arnold (It Came from Outer Space, 1953, Creature from the Black Lagoon, 1954) refused, and had enough clout that it remained.

It isn’t the acting that makes the film unique among its horror and science fiction contemporaries: it’s the creative special effects, the crux of that genre, which make The Incredible Shrinking Man exceptional and worth watching all these decades after it was made.