#The Plagues Reprise

[smoothie03]

Taking my Adhd meds, having a shit ass weather all week and having to deal with family members I want to avoid apparently makes me so productive that I drew half of my 3 mins long animatic in a week.

[polar534]

With TGWDLM's reprise on the horizon, I've been seeing a couple of posts about the Guy timeloop theory. Which is great! Especially with the Reprise trailer there's a lot more evidence and fun to be had with it. (I personally subscribe to the in-universe Pokey sponsored musical myself though.)

But I did want to check in with the fandom to make sure people are aware that there is a timeloop musical in the Hatchetfield Trilogy. One that I feel a lot of people might miss because you're designed to forget the biggest piece of evidence unless you're paying attention. Unless you rewatch it.

If you don't already know where I'm going with this, do me a favor. Right now. Open up Black Friday on youtube, or even pull up the cast album and click the very very first song (Prologue). You only have to play it for a few seconds at most. Now, tell me what you hear.

Because the answer should be ticking.

The musical starts, with ticking.

Which, ok, the countdown for renowned American holiday, Black Friday, is something that we do (unfortunately) see in the real world. People wait outside for doors to open, for sales to drop etc.

The thing is, this ticking and the musical accompaniment that eventually starts up is meant to parallel the exact same ticking and theme we hear again at the end of the night. At the end of the musical. If it was just supposed to be a thematic opening title sequence made for the pro-shot release, then why is it included on the cast album? The other two musicals in the trilogy don't include their title card sequence in their cast album. Prologue's inclusion tells me that parallel is purposeful. This is supposed to tell us something.

But ok. Musicals are meant to carry musical themes throughout them. That could reasonably explain the theme being played at the beginning and at the end. Just a thematic nod. The ticking itself could be explained by it referencing the count down to the sale of Wiggly (and the resulting chaos) in the beginning and the countdown to flip the day at the end. Both are reasonable and would fit within the story Black Friday tells.

So if I want to seal this theory, I should probably be bringing something else to the table. If only I had a song... with lyrics that loop. With lyrics that literally ask the question: Will tomorrow come today?

Oh. Huh. Would you look at that...

Well since you already either have the cast album up, or the musical itself up, go ahead and do yourself a favor and listen to What if Tomorrow Comes again. Besides the fact that Kendall absolutely kills it (the whole cast does actually), really listen to the lyrics. Because you'll probably notice little gems such as:

Do you all see the memories, tomorrow, reminds me.

What if tomorrow comes and takes the night away?

And of course:

Will tomorrow come today?

If you still want more, trust me, I got it. Take a look at this:

The choreography in this moment specifically has almost everyone on stage look down at their hands, almost as if 'waking up', almost as if realizing something. Remembering something. (God I wish I could get my hands on a copy of the digital ticket and see the full number. Kendall gets her deserved spotlight in this moment for the pro-shot but I just love this musical so much and would love to see the full stage and every little detail they put into the show.)

So. If you're now on board with where I'm going with this, then I suppose we need a reason for the loop to be occurring in the first place. Something or someone needs to have triggered it.

Black Friday is specifically and unapologetically Wiggly's musical. The Lang brothers have confirmed and reinforced that fact on various livestreams. Also, I mean, we see him so much. So while The Bastard of Time and Space would be a fitting culprit for trapping a bunch of people into repeating the same horrible day over and over, I don't think that's what we're meant to be inferring.

So if it's not Tinky, then who else would even fit as a suspect?

Gosh, if only there was one other character who every time their powers have been described by the Lang brother's, either in livestreams or narrated in released media, as having the ability to 'reach through space and time' and oh...

Oh.

Oh pookie. You really are the biggest walking tragedy Hatchetfield has ever seen.

Now. To be clear. I don't think Lex triggers the loop on purpose or even fully by herself. I mean, she really wouldn't know how nor do I believe she would even want to. But through existing lore we already know that Lex's powers will end up triggering on their own when Hannah's life is in danger. (Read about said lore and the trivia question it stems from in this wonderful post here.) And I don't know about you, but I can't think of a more dangerous and lethal situation than the possibility of nuclear retaliation.

Let's combine that knowledge with the fact that Hannah's powers have been confirmed by Willy boy himself to be alike to a nuclear power plant in terms of potential. Throw in two absolutely terrified magical sisters whose goal is not to be separated, and I think there's a very reasonable case to be made that Lex's powers to bend space and time probably activated the moment they heard that whirring noise at the end of the night.

That they not only activated, but were actually heightened to such a degree by Hannah's own powers that it kick-started a timeloop, resetting everyone back to the start of the day without any memory of the tragedy that awaits them in the mall. Every time they do reach the end of the night, Hannah realizes the loop and helps everyone else to see it too. That the real reason the survivors all huddle around and wait for the night to flip over together is because it hasn't yet.

[pianokantzart]

I mean, did I die over and over again? Yes, but at least I had fun doing it.

[music-in-my-veins14]

Once Upon A December - Anastasia The Plagues - The Prince of Egypt I'll Make A Man Out Of You - Mulan Friends On The Other Side - The Princess and the Frog Jack's Lament - The Nightmare Before Christmas This Is Halloween - The Nightmare Before Christmas Vanessa's Trick - The Little Mermaid 2023 Part Of Your World (Reprise #2) - The Little Mermaid 2023 Proud Of Your Boy - Aladdin What's This - Fall Out Boy Playing With The Big Boys - The Prince of Egypt Frozen Heart - Frozen Quartet At The Ballet - Anastasia The Mob Song - Beauty and the Beast 2015 Finale - The Hunchback of Notre Dame musical Finale - Anastasia

[woodlandwrites]

i. mind over matter

aphrodite!reader x luke castellan

pre-tlt, characters 18+, mdni, def going to be a pt.2

warnings: cursing, whole lotta impertinence!

2.7k read - unedited

You have been plagued by flocks of doves and Luke Castellan. So Aphrodite decides to meddle a little a lot in your love life. Who needs memories anyway? Unfortunately, the only person you find comfort in - is the very person you hate.

A/N: first fic in a loooong time - stick with me here. there will be more parts and maybeee some spice? anyways hope you enjoy!

You’d like to think that Aphrodite loved the game of making you miserable. In retrospect, you hated your mother. She was a hard act to follow. 

Don’t jump to conclusions - you loved your cabin. Your brothers and sisters were wonderful - not vain like most campers would say. No, that was not an issue. The problem started with one slender, curly haired, crooked smile boy - Luke Castellan. He was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood and the bane of your existence. 

Luke was an astonishingly aggravating self-centered egotistical bigot. 

“Why do you hate him so much,” Silena asked one day out of the blue. You both sat in the stands watching Luke teach his swordsmanship class. You pondered her question for a while.

“Because. He confuses me - and aggravates me constantly. I have never met anyone so full of themselves in my entire life. He is Narcissus reborn again. It also does not help that he is a complete jerk,” you nodded as you ate another fresh strawberry. Silena pondered on your words.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with mom and the whole..argument,” she said in a cautionary tone.

Silena was the only one who knew about you and Aphrodite’s - complicated past. To be fair - she didn’t know the entire truth. The prophecy, the impertinence, all the bullshit. However, she did know that your shoulders seemed to tense every time Aphrodite’s name was mentioned. 

“I mean every time I have talked to him at camp counselor meetings he seems like an alright guy.

Silena - forever the optimist. Sometimes when you looked at her through the corner of your eye she resembled your mother. She had this soft tone and locks of hair that seemed to always catch the wind just right. Yeah, no wonder Luke was nice to her. Selina was extremely beautiful - Beckendorf struck gold. 

“Yeah, I can see right through the façade-” you were cut off by a dove landing next to you. He started pecking at your strawberries mindlessly. Silena stifled a small giggle. 

“It is funny when it isn’t happening to you. The bastards have been following me around for days,” you said annoyed.

You tried scaring the bird away - only for more to return. After a couple minutes an estimated 20 doves flocked around you mimicking every move. 

“Go away!” you screamed - only for the feathered friends to cock their heads in curiosity. By now, the entire arena seemed to convert their attention to you. 

“Hey! I heard if they shit on your head it’ll bring good luck,” Luke echoed watching amused.

He leaned against his sword in a cocky manner. What an asshole - you hated when he did that. The other campers seemed to laugh along. 

“Up yours, Castellan,” you yelled with a face the color of cherries. 

The doves had now increased their army to a solid 50 - all looking to you for a further instruction. Doves had followed you around your entire life - a gift your mother had bestowed to you. The unfortunate part was that they were pretty much the most non obedient monsters on the entire planet. You never had truly understood why they would appear - most of the time it was a random occurrence. Of course - Luke was always there to revel in your misfortune. You still had not forgotten when the doves caused a complete riot last month at dinner - leaving quite a mess for you to clean up. The younger campers were still traumatized. 

That was the thing about doves - they were just like your mother. At first they are nice to look at, almost sweet. That is until they turn into vicious assailants from Tartarus (Silena says you overreact). They also annoy you - another common attribute with your mother. 

“For Gods sake just leave!,” you yelled again, stomping off, bidding Silena goodbye.

You did not want to continue being entertainment for the rest of the campers. The doves seemed to take the hint - maintaining their place in the stands. You were sure there were some week old snacks stuffed between the seats the rotted things could ravish on. Luke chuckled before turning his attention back to his students. 

The sun was setting and soon it would be dinner - but you still sat in bed thinking about what Silena had mentioned early about your mom. Maybe it was your nerves - but you knew a visit soon would be unavoidable. The doves only confirmed your suspicion. It was rare for gods to visit Camp Half-Blood, at least publically. The closest thing the camp had to godliness was Mr. D - what a joke. However, you knew your mother and her constant desire to meddle with your life. 

Dinner went without a hunch - except for the Stoll twins starting a food fight at the Hermes table. You loved quiet nights like these where the summer breeze feels like a warm hug. Silena nudged you - reading her expression you knew she was inquiring about the events from earlier. A shrug sufficed. You were so caught up in laughing with your siblings you failed to notice the yelling from the other side of the pavilion. 

“One of the Ares girls was flirting with Luke after you left today - Charlie and I could not help but laugh. It was so awkward,” Silena mentioned.

 There were a couple of murmured sounds and gawking from your siblings - which was the usual. If there was one thing they loved it was - well - love. However this subject rubbed you the wrong way - maybe it was just Luke’s name being mentioned.

It felt like a suffocating gut punch and it was most likely your mothers doing. If there was anything she loved more it was demigod love - the trials and tribulations - and of course the unfortunate ends. It quite literally made you sick. But why did Luke have to be roped in it and moreover - why did you care? You smiled and nodded - trying to pay attention and not let the thoughts take over. 

“Get these goddamn things off of me!,” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.

So wrapped up in thought - you failed to care - assuming it was a practical Hephaestus joke with an Ares kid. Selina quickly nudged you pointing towards the Hermes table - for quite an interesting scene. Luke being attacked by a merciless army of doves. 

“Hey Castellan, let them shit on your head - heard it was good luck!,” the words reflected from just a few hours prior.

You couldn’t help but giggle - it was nice not being the receiver of dove aggravated assault (as Beckendorf had termed it). It was also nice not to be the joke for once - everyone laughing at someone else for a change was different. 

“Call the damn things off,” he struggled - yelling your name in the process.

“Why do you automatically assume I am the one who set them off? They just do what they want!” you retorted.

 Silena looked at you - questioning your motives. He struggled even more as the doves thrashed him around - seemling gaining confidence in their blows. They seemed - deadly - more than before. Silena muttered your name.

“You have to try,” Silena persuaded. Reluctantly you obeyed - knowing she was being more serious than she was putting on. 

“Stop!” you yelled sternly to the winged creatures.

Like usual - they did not obey. Unfortunately, they keep going - tearing Luke’s shirt in the process. He held himself quite well against dove assassins  - a fact you did not want to admit to yourself. 

“παύω!” You spoke - pleading that it would end.

It was all your mothers fault. She wanted you to be miserable. She wanted to ruin your night, humiliate you - and to hurt Luke. You weren’t sure why that last part bothered you so much.

 “Φεύγω!” you screamed once more in an earthshaking tone.

The doves dissipated automatically. Like literally - poof - into dust. Again - the entire camp had its eyes on you - what else was new?

“What is wrong with you,” Luke questioned - still astonished at the sheer power of your voice - that very voice that made doves disintegrate. You slowly looked up at his disheveled appearance - he looked worse.

Beautiful. 

You wish that voice in your head would go suck a dick!

“Shows over, enjoy your dessert,” you said bitterly to the crowd taking a bow.

Silena yelled your name but you had already darted towards the woods. You could hear the muttering of the crowd questioning the evening entertainment. You could not seem to care. 

You took a seat in the sand on the beach overlooking the shore. The moonlight seemed to make the water sparkle like diamonds. You felt almost calm here - no one to distract you from your thoughts. Why did his words strike you like a knife? He might as well plant backbiter into your back, it would hurt less. It all led to the proper question - why? Why would the doves attack him anyway? They had never done anything quite so ruthless before - nevertheless to another sole person. 

Then again - it was always about Luke - ever since you got to the infernal camp. He was probably celebrated for his brave victory in the battle of the doves - hoisted up by other campers. You suppose a feast in his honor was in order. 

“You think such unhappy thoughts,” an angelic voice sang from the sea. 

Your attention turned towards a bundle of sea foam. The foam began to sparkle and mangle to take the shape of a woman the closer it got to shore. Soon after your mother - Aphrodite stood before you - in all her glory.

“I thought seafoam was just whale jizz,” you spoke casually. You chucked at yourself that was a good one!

Of - fucking - course. Your mother was behind the entire dove fiasco - you called it. You should start placing bets at this point. 

“Most would be labeled impertinent with that attitude - especially with a God.” 

“I am impertinent.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. Maybe if you really ignored her she would disappear. 

“I will not disappear yet - we have much to discuss.” 

“Get out of my head.” 

“I heard what occurred tonight at dinner. Shame, doves are very gentle creatures.”

A dove magically appeared in her hands, letting out a soft coo. You cringed. If you saw another dove tonight - you might just roast it and eat it. 

“So that was you?” You asked venomously.

“Well thanks mom! Now the entire camp thinks I tried to kill the golden boy with a league of killer doves. They all think I am absolutely crazy.”

“I did nothing, my child.” You gawked at her - she paused to collect her thoughts.

“However, you might want to look within yourself before you spit accusations that are not true. I merely gave you a gift - how you use it is at your own expense.” She finished. 

“But I don’t control those horrid things - they just show up and do whatever. Why would I even attack Luke with a bunch of wimpy doves?”

That was your mother, having the audacity to say you caused the incident. That it was all your fault. 

“Love, perhaps?” Her eyes seemed to glitter at the thought. 

“No.” Ugh, not this again, you thought.

“Doves are a mere - personification of one’s inner love. That is why I gave you the gift - so your innermost feelings can never be bottled. That does horrid things to one’s complexion.” 

“Well thanks for the shitty gift, mother. Next time maybe a pair of socks will do the trick.” 

“Why do you insist on denying who you are? Denying what you are destined to become? Denying yourself the love of the century?”

“Why love someone if they eventually will die.” It was true. Your father had died when you were young - leaving you an orphan. Your demigod friends you made throughout the years died horrible unspeakable deaths.

“Isn’t that all the more fun?” 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? You just love to see me suffer?”

“You’re being rash.” She fired back.

“Rash? Where have you been?” You scoffed at your godly mother.

“Child, I do not write destiny - I only enforce it. I know you more than you would like to admit, sweet dove. And you - are in love with the child of Hermes.”

 Apollo could’ve shot you through the chest - it would have felt better. 

“Mother, you have it mixed up - I do not have any feelings for Luke. You’re just making things up because you are bored and need some excitement. Please go back to Olympus and meddle with someone else’s life,” you stated. You staggered to your feet dusting the sand off. 

Before you could walk away a bolt of pure energy hit you in your spine. You flew to your feet hitting the ground with a hard thud. In a blur your mother was standing proud above your feet - surrounded in a pink aura. 

“Luke Castellan, he will keep you safe - and you will keep him steady.” 

You might have thought to curse at her - but you couldn’t speak - let alone move. She had disappeared from vision leaving only a dove in her wake. The pain - was excruciating - like being electrocuted a million times. Your ears rang terrible tunes as you tried to level yourself - only to fall back down. The world was spinning at an unmeasurable pace. You could hear shrill screaming - or was it yours? You weren’t even sure who you were? Only images of dark curls, broad shoulders, and crooked smiles flashed through your vision. 

A quake of footsteps running towards the shore were felt as you thrashed in the sand. Voices - yelling a name - whose name? You couldn’t recall. All you knew was darkness. 

“Y/N?!” a feminine voice called. You could feel her hands shake your shoulder violently - it felt like knives.

You heard screams - this time knowing it was your shrill cry. You pushed her away with force. You backed away, crawling backwards in desperation. 

Once your vision returned you focused to see a swarm of kids all in orange shirts - staring at you in shock. The girl who touched you - you could only assume was kneeling in the sand in front of you. She seemed to be pleading.

“Stay away, please,” you pleaded with tears streaming from your eyes. You weren’t sure what had happened but you knew you had never felt pain so deeply. 

“Y/N, please you were screaming. We only want to make sure you are okay. We can go to the infirmary and figure it out,” the girl reached out only for you to retreat more. You hyperventilate on your own words. 

“What’s going on?” another voice asked with urgency from beyond the crowd.

Every child seemed to turn their attention to focus on the male figure. Pushing his way through the crowd - he became shocked at the scene before him.

However, you felt as if all the oxygen had left your body - leaving you limp. You felt as if a hand had grabbed your heart and ripped it in two. He was the one - the one you had seen in your visions. 

“Y/N?” he questioned - half concerned, half annoyed. His chocolate eyes seemed to lock ever so easily with yours. He was indeed the most beautiful man you had ever seen - like a carving of marble. Your soul ached. Without a thought - on instinct alone - you ran. He was engulfed in a desperate hug - his shoulder muffled your pitiful cries. 

“Please, you’re the only one who can help.” You could feel the eyes on the two of you - the gasps were hard to ignore. He went stiff in his posture - not sure how to react. Silence fell over the entire shore, only the crashing of waves in the background. 

“Y/N what is going on? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked in disbelief. 

He had never seen you like this - so scared. Some small part of him wanted to scoop you up, hold you tight, and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you how he would fix all your problems - just so he would never see you cry again. Although these feelings were so suppressed he restrained.

Gods you were beautiful. 

“I- I don’t know who Y/N is. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know me.” 

[barkingatthemooninsteadofwriting]

URL tag game

thanks for the tag @lifeisabitch-butimcute!

Pick a song for every letter in your tumblr-URL. Tag at least as many people as there are letters in your URL!

my deepest apologies to the THIRTY TWO people I'm about to tag... putting this under a cut so i don't wreck peoples dashes.

B- Bitter Sweet Symphony by The Verve

A- Alive With the Glory of Love by Say Anything

R- Ruin by The Amazing Devil

K- The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen

I- Intrasport by King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

N- Neopet Graveyard by Gully Boys

G- Glory Box by Portishead

A- Alter Wine by David Keenan

T- Talking In Your Sleep by The Romantics

T- Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge

H- Hoping No One Notice by Mahawam

E- Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode

M- Maintain the Madness by The Jane Austen Argument

O- Ohio is for Emo Kids by Canadian Softball

O- Oh No by Goodbye June

N- Not Yet/Love Run (Reprise) by The Amazing Devil

I- In The Room Where You Sleep by Dead Mans Bones

N- Nobody's Soldier by Hozier

S- Ship in a Bottle by fin

T- Thank God For Girls by Weezer

E- E-Pro by Beck

A- Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

D- Dancing Plague of 1518 by molly ofgeography

O- One of Us is the Killer by The Dillinger Escape Plan

F- Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine

W- Wolf Like Me by TV On The Radio

R- Rory by Foxing

I- Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

T- There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths

I- I Should Live in Salt by The National

N- No Sugar In My Coffee by Caught A Ghost

G- God You Don't Need by Old Salt Union

no pressure tagging @wannabelilybriscoe @madefortherain @rae-lune @lavenderhaze @indigostation @r33sespieces @languagelessonswolfstar @ixekizumab @hihimissamericanbi @fictionalsimp09 @apcqlypse @em3eald @belovedcampfire @polaroidcats @kaaaaaaarf @mybelovedmoon @sliebman10 @just--vi @slytheerin @moon-seas @moonysfavoritedog @kaleidoscopexsighs @flowerhawk-highinthesky @heysaykitkat @missmoonfrost @backuploveinterest @emeryinthestars @carps-peace @starryaugustnight @a-pine-cone @lipstickonthemoon

[child0feden]

EUPHORIA

pelle “ dead ” ohlin x reader

- nsfw headcanons for pelle losing his virginity to you!

hopefully this is what you wanted and you like it anon, i have nine other requests i am working on right now <3

- requested by anon | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: enchanted land by sodom - promise reprise by akira yamaoka

* 18 + content ahead, please do not read if you are a minor *

- before meeting you, pelle simply had no real interest in sex at all!

✩ his mind was always plagued by many other thoughts to even want to jack off most times, let alone actually have sex with someone…

- even then, most people found him off putting and sort of gross, just the smell of his clothes made most people other than his band mates stay far away from him at all times

✩ but when he met you and eventually started a real relationship with you, something inside of him changed after the first time you had sex together

- and his first time with you was a major turning point

✩ it would probably actually be him who initiated it! i mean, pelle knows that other couples have sex and it is supposed to be a supposedly normal thing in a normal relationship so… you never initiated it with him because you wanted him to go for it at his pace…

- he just wanted to try it, with you! he wanted you to be the one he finally opened himself up to intimately for the first time, he wanted to feel new feelings with you

✩ he probably will not just come out with “ i want to have sex with you ” or “ i want you to take my virginity ” though

- he will likely just be extremely close to you for the whole day, basically staying joint to your hip and always hovering close behind you, never going off to do his own thing like he usually does! he just stays by your side, staring down at you awkwardly and being extremely touchy

✩ by the time the late afternoon rolls around and you are getting ready for bed, he stares up at you from the bed, studying your body as you remove your day clothes… not looking away even when you look right back at him, wondering just what is wrong with him today! he has seen you in your underwear and even naked many times before but something about his behaviour tonight is different, his breathing gets deeper as he watches you

- so you stay in your underwear, moving over to the bed and sitting next to him with your legs tucked under you before flat out asking him if he is okay, asking him if he wants anything, asking him if he wants what you think he might want…

✩ you know pelle is a virgin, obviously! it is really not that hard to see with how he acts

- and you quickly figured out that his behaviour is coming off as someone who really wants to fuck but just does not know how to go about it at all… so you help him…

✩ a deep blush takes over his pale face as you ask him in a blunt yet soft tone if he wants to fuck you, his blue eyes widening slightly at your straight forward question as he leans in closer towards you, your face meeting his halfway as he places his chapped lips against yours, mumbling a quiet “ yes… ” into your mouth

- you go to pull away from the kiss, wanting to get up and maybe find a condom somewhere in the house but pelle quickly puts his hand on the back of your neck, holding you against him and clumsily shoving his tongue deeper into your mouth as you gasp softly at how… different he is being tonight…

✩ but you like it! of course you do, you are happy that he wants to try this with you, you are happy that he wants to open himself up so much to you and you are happy that he obviously trusts you so much

- pelle is a really messy kisser when it comes to open mouthed kissing and general making out, he holds you against him, tangling your tongues together in a fleshy knot as his free hand digs into your hip, his fingernails catching on the black lace panties you are wearing

✩ you mumble into his mouth that you need to actually take your underwear off if you are going to have sex with him, only then does he pull his mouth back from yours, a thin string of spit connecting your connecting your lips as he pulls back, you are the one to break it with a soft laugh

- pelle only sleeps in cotton boxers anyways so getting him undressed is no problem but you wait for that, taking off your bra and panties first whilst his eyes stay glued to your body, his big eyes dropping down to admire your tits as you unclip your bra and drop it to the floor along with your panties

✩ he has obviously seen tits before in øysteins porn magazines and whatever but seeing them in real life, seeing them on someone he actually feels something for is so… different! he feels something deeper towards you and his boner from simply making out with you hardens even more in his black cotton boxers

- you can see he likes them, obviously, he does not make it hard to see! but he does not make a move for them! he just stares with dilated pupils

✩ you take this as a go ahead, climbing atop of him and pushing him back gently against the pillows as he stares up at you straddling his waist, his breathing getting deeper and louder as his now rock hard cock presses into your cunt, only separated by the thin material of his boxers

- you take his slightly shaky hands in yours, looking him in the eyes as you press his hands to your tits, knowing he would probably be too awkward to do it himself! he does not do much, he just lets his hands hold them, kneading them slightly, funnily enough just like how a cat kneads a soft bed…

✩ you let out a hum before leaning down against him, pressing your mouth against his as he immediately parts his lips and allows your tongue to meet his, breathing heavily through his nose as he feels your hands dipping down to his hips, pulling his boxers down as his cock springs up, just barely missing your cunt as you rest above it

- no way are you getting up to look for a condom now… but whatever, right? you are on top and in control so it really does not matter all that much

✩ the second your bring your hand to his cock, holding it in your hand as you position your cunt over it, he is panting so loudly against your open mouth whilst you whisper praise towards him, telling him it is okay and that he is going to feel so good

- when you lower your cunt onto his cock and he feels your walls adjust and tighten slightly around him, when he feels the wetness coating his cock and the warmth inside you… he is a complete goner, immediately throwing his head back against the pillow, letting out a deep groan and bringing his hands to your hips, digging his nails in as he tries to get used to the new, euphoric feeling

✩ you are thankful that the rest of the band went to some party because of how loud pelle is being and how loud you are being because his cock is definitely big, skinny but long and it has some killer veins running down it that drag against your walls just right as you bounce atop him

- it does not take long for pelle to cum, since he is a virgin and all, but you do not mind at all, you just praise him whilst enjoying the first of many rides, digging your nails into his chest as his cock reaches deep inside of you

✩ he lets you know when he is about to cum, squeezing your hips as he mumbles out a strangled and desperate warning in between sharp gasps and some deep moans

“ think ‘m gonna cum, shit… ( he knows he is going to cum, but he wishes he could have lasted longer to feel your cunt more )

- you pull yourself off of him just as he cums, his eyes screwing shut and one of his hands dropping from your hip to fist the blanket under him, his mouth opening in a deep groan as his cum shoot out and paints the skin of your stomach

✩ as his orgasm comes to an end, you stay sat on his hips just above his now softening cock whilst he breathes heavily under you, his pale chest rising and falling as you lean down to litter kisses on it, trailing them up his neck and to his cheeks as you whisper how good he was, how amazing his cock felt inside of you

- the praise from you causes him to blush even deeper, opening his now tired eyes to look down at your face before looking down at your cunt

“ you didn’t cum… ‘m sorry… ” ( you do not even let him say anything else after sorry, slamming your lips against his and softly telling him to shut up with a soft chuckle against his lips )

✩ but he just does not take it, gently pushing you off him by your hips and making you lay beside him on the small bed as he gets on top of you, bringing his long fingers down to your cunt and pushing them into you in a fast and eager motion

- the shock mixed with pleasure causes you to moan deeply before grabbing his hair and pulling his face down to yours, sloppily making out with him and moaning into his mouth as he speeds up, using his thumb to rub your clit

✩ you do not know why he is so good at fingering but you figure it must just be something that comes naturally to men with gorgeously long fingers

- after you have cum from him fingering you and he has sucked your creamy cum from his pale fingers, you just lay next to each other on the bed, your head resting on his shoulder as his hand holds yours between your bodies

✩ he stays pretty quiet, not completely sure of what to say, so you speak up first! telling him you really need to get a shower to wash his cum from your stomach and he nods slightly, actually following you to the shower for once and getting in with you

- he speaks up in the shower whilst staring down at you, it is so quiet and you probably would have missed it if the water was not turned on low

“ i liked it… did you? ” ( he is a man of very few words and you almost laugh before saying yes, you definitely liked it )

✩ after that night, something awoke deep inside of pelle…

- a need to be inside of you, a want to feel your warm cunt wrapped around his cock and he wants to have a sex a whole lot more after that one night

✩ he is still not all that great with telling you he wants to have sex but you learn to know his usual signs, the most common being him getting very overly touchy with you and holding eye contact with you for an unusually long time

- he still really likes you being on top, he thinks you look just beautiful above him, your hair falling over your shoulder and chest, your head lolling back in pleasure, tits bouncing in a soft motion… that position definitely gives him a whole lot of inspiration to draw you…

✩ unfortunately though, the rest of the band is not always out of the house and are not huge fans of pelles newfound hobby! pelle is still very loud during sex, even with him liking to do it quite often now, he never gets quieter and they hate it, øystein always stink eyes you whenever you leave your shared room with pelle to grab some cold water for the both of you as you throw a sly wink his way and flash him the bird

- yeah, pelle is definitely quite a fan of sex with you now <3

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

The Prince Of Egypt (When You Believe) • Deliver Us • The Reprimand • Following Tzipporah • All I Ever Wanted (With Queen's Reprise) • Goodbye Brother • Through Heaven's Eyes • The Burning Bush • Playing With The Big Boys • Cry • Rally • The Plagues • Death Of The First Born • When You Believe • Red Sea • Through Heaven's Eyes • River Lullaby • Humanity • I Will Get There (A Cappella)

Spotify ♪ YouTube

[skobbeloff]

very rough and messy summary of the six the kids musical brainstorm first draft thing:

I think people liked the idea so here's the summary of what I came up with...

all of em – “Heavy Crown”

there is a sorta who lives who dies who tells your story vibe... it starts the musical i wanna establish that this musical is about succession and power.

OH!! this is how we connect the story. the crown drops cuz its heavy, it falls on ed, then mary, but it’s to heavy so at the end of their songs, the crown drops down, then finally liz. the crown falls on liz at the last part of her song (since her song starts w her as a child instead of crowned) and she puts the crown onto herself. (we're stopping there cuz of time concerns aka i got too lazy to read the wikipedia for what happens after liz)

//ah how do i… include the religious/political nuiances? //politics not my thing moment...

“Who will be next?” or “next in line” ig

just a small contextualising song (not even really a song). its giving that. "where will she strike next?" from wicked kinda vibe

henry dies! oh no! anyway…

establish liz and mary as illegitimate 

Edward VI – "King Before Dawn"

like a lullaby?? i was kinda thinking of bastille...? Idk but i guess i am also kinda going for the soft vibe yk. He's a bit inspired by rudolf from Elisabeth.

AURORA runaway, When the party's over, or

i feel like the climax would be like this waking moment for him? cuz all this time he’s been in a dream, but its not bc he doesn't want change, like he’s trying, but its like they’re forcing him to sleep or something. the original title was “sleep, little king”, so i mean… he's just a kid, so his wants and visions are only regardes as dreams

motif thing: i want the kids to like, learn from their mothers, and jane says "i hope my son will know he'll never be alone" and "my love is set in stone", so, i think… something like "in my dream, I'm not alone, love carries me on the throne, but then i wake and then it falls away"... I'm not using "heart of stone" cuz it goes against ed's airy dreamy vibe (yk.. cuz stone...)

"i close my eyes, so i could be, king for one more day"? "before dawn"?? i unno.

This would reflect Edward’s child-like ambitions and dreams of reform, but also his helplessness due to his age and the weight of expectations (i see him sorta like a puppet king, yk? cuz his reign is ran by council)

Thats why I imagine a dream-like setting. cuz during his rule he was “asleep”.

Lady Jane Grey - "Nine Days" (should we even include her)

ed: i need someone to take care of england like i wish i had (lists a bunch of characteristics as liz and mary kinda do this like.. comedic pushing each other and posing thing) it will be… Jane grey! (jane snuck onto the stage and the light suddenly shines on her and shes awkwardly standing there just: :) hiiii 

mary and liz: ??

Jane never wanted the crown but was executed so… it’s pretty tragic. but i want to give her a light number! to lighten the mood a bit!! Also because everyone else who git beheaded had a lit number haha we're keeping the trend!!

since she’s called the "Nine Days Queen", what if… her song is in a count down format? and it gets faster? Yes I took inspo from 10 rule commandments.

towards the end she screams "Have mercy upon me, O God"

“Third Succession Act”

or a next in line reprise... it's a lot darker tho. Mary and Liz ride in on. "horseback" and instantly you get this vibe like "o something is about to go down..."

i just want like chanting but it’s still a short interlude. 

there’s a darker turn to prep for mary’s song? i was thinking a bit of like the starting chant of "the plagues" from prince of egypt.

wikipedia says: “Mary rode triumphantly into London on 3 August, on a wave of popular support. She was accompanied by her half-sister Elizabeth and a procession of over 800 nobles and gentlemen.”

Mary: wonderful. take Jane out of here, please.

Mary I – “To ashes”

as in she will stand strong until she is ashes, but also burning the heretics to ashes.

when i first started my mind went: LADY GAGA!! but i actually... want her to have a much more serious and solemn kinda vibe, so...

its like… p heavy and intense in terms of beat like im imagining some iron clanging but also seriously good choir.  dark, dramatic, grand... im thinking a lot about like... olim from the hunchback of notredame (the disney musical one).

I pull out a dark edit audios playlist... nah, but ummm Everybody Wants to Rule the World (Lorde Cover), You Should See Me in a Crown, Castle by Halsey? but with heavy choir backing...? Or like The Seed by AURORA? or a few of the Soap&Skin songs.

other titles ive considered are: “By My Own Hand/ For Her Own Good” (her refering to england). yk i want her song to be more from her perspective, to show her motivation instead of just "bro's a serious arsonist".

motif thing: i will make my way (instead of no no no no no no no way)

i don’t know i just think it suits her

bloody mary frfr she gon be big scary lady muahahaha

“Heavy crown reprise”

A transition number showing Mary’s downfall, and the crown slipping again. Could be a ghostly echo of the opening song; mary is up bathed in red light and then thud! the light turns like this light and beige in a small jail bar square shape onto liz who is kneeling in white (getting out from imprisonment and starting small)

Elizabeth I – "For good(? glory??), Alone"

get it? the song name is like “for good alone” but also “for good, (i am) alone”

her inspo was originally kate bush, Chappell Roan, and marina. However, after doodling her I wanted to give her a much more reserved personality. I imagine liz with this mixture of ham burr and ham eliza where she is quiet until she is sure. I know a lot of people give her a much more light and loud personality but idk if i see that...

i feel like it starts small then slowly builds to become grand or something. I guess I kinda take Aurora as a reference for her...?

towards the end of the song, in the background i wanna add a choir going “gloriana”

could have a speaking segment (like in teach them how to say goodbye) cuz she got some pretty fire quotes

Motif thing: "Just not to lose my head"

from Anne Boleyn’s "Don’t Lose Your Head," representing like… a constant balancing act of power, survival, and public image; taking charge without falling into the traps her mother did.

keeping her head (literally and metaphorically) could also tie into the calculated patience???

touch on how she carefully navigated political waters and worked to build England's glory, all while dealing with personal and political challenges that could have caused her downfall at any moment

quotes to use? I will have no master; i saw and i kept silent

Closing? like… something like.. like “Still she remains”

I was gonna end with liz so the first ideas were “Gloriana”, "No King But Me”, “Still I Stand". But then six ends with all queens, so I'm prolly gonna do that (not really including jane, tho); see i would say “England remains” but yk… ireland was there too, so…

“A throne of my own” would be cool, but i want this to end outwards, as in this was the past, but now look at the present and future.

“still she remains” could start with referring to liz, then to england (and ireland).

The last lines could hint that even Elizabeth’s reign will pass, and England will continue, liz holds out the crown and the lights narrow on the crown, not on any one person.

liz drops the crown down (as how it had dropped on ed, then to mary, then to liz). Her legacy. what is a legacy? It's dropping crowns for queens who you don't get to meet-- /j

//idk are these all to heavy? probably. where’s my pop girlies :( //i don't know if anyone would get me if i said... they're burn blister and blaze coded...

I hope this was fun :P

[shaddork]

The Star That Wouldn't Die - Chapter 5

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

<Previous - Masterlist - Next>

Summary:

Jason visits you for the second night in a row, finding lingering whispers of his past in your present.

CW: There's a very very brief joke about cannibalism in here. Otherwise it's cannon and this fic specific typical Jason angst Word Count: 4,557 a/n: This chapter is less internal dialogue heavy and we actually get a good bit of present interaction between the reader and Jason. PLUS, Roy makes an appearance. As an additional note, I am working on a playlist for this fic, so if anybody has any recommendations let me know! Once the playlist is a little more filled out I'll put a link to it somewhere in here.

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Jason came back again the next night. Of course he did. Even if he was anxious and worried about putting you in danger, you brought him so much peace, and he’d already agreed to be your art reference for however long you needed him. He just hoped that this wasn't a mistake, that it wasn’t going to put you in danger. 

He hoped you'd let him stick around even after you were done using him as an art reference. Still in his full Red Hood gear, complete with armor and various weapons strapped against his body, his first felt heavy against the door, knocking on it three times exactly. He had to stop himself from doing the rhythmic knock that he’d done for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know exactly where that knock had started, but something deep in his soul felt like it was somehow associated with you.

Memories were coming back slowly. Sometimes in the form of a reprise from the nightmares he was plagued with every night. Other times a stray thought that he couldn’t place where it came from. You’d been the reason that he had discovered his love for reading. You’d caught him crying on the fire escape at one point. Anything that was coming back was disjointed and out of order, more jarring than anything else.  

Your melodic voice called out from inside, “It’s open!” He tried the door handle and sure enough, you’d left it unlocked. Was that to make it easier for him to get in tonight, or did you just fail to lock your door?

It couldn’t be that you’d forgotten to lock the door. He might not remember much about his time with you, but you were as much of a crime alley kid as he was. Learning how to take basic safety precautions before you could even walk. Drilled into the minds of every child who grew up in that area. Whether it was by the parents or simply by bad experiences varied however. You could take the kid out of Crime Alley, but you couldn’t take Crime Alley out of the kid. 

He knew that better than anyone. Even though he’d been taken in by a billionaire, he’d never truly left Crime Alley, and when he came back to life, back to Gotham, it was where he went. Not even because it would be easiest to execute the plan he’d spent months - years - planning, but because it was home. 

As it turned out, you were in the kitchen cooking. A pair of athletic shorts and a slightly oversized shirt adorned your body. The shirt looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place why it looked familiar. Maybe he’d seen you wear it before when he was still simply observing you from outside your apartment. It was clearly a shirt that you used for painting and dying your hair. Droplets of various colors of paint spread across it similar to how it did on the wall in your painting room. Bleached spots of varying intensity on the shoulders of the shirt. 

“I’m making some Grilled cheese if you want some.” He was hungry after patrol - he was hungry all the time now, his larger body requiring a larger intake of food - and grilled cheese actually sounded really good, but he couldn’t exactly eat without taking off his mask. Would you recognize him if he did? He barely recognized himself when he caught a glance of himself in a mirror. 

He’d lost all of his baby fat on his face, having turned into sharp angles from the bones underneath the skin and muscle of his face. His eyes weren’t even the same anymore. One had turned a bright green after his repeated exposure to the Lazarus pit. He didn’t know why the other had remained the same blue as it had been when he was a kid. None of that was why he now avoided mirrors and had a larger disdain for photos than he ever had. The J branded into his cheek, the skin on that part raised and lighter than the rest. Looking at it made him sick to his stomach, an eternal reminder of what he’d gone through. A reminder that he wasn’t the same grinning little boy that you had known. 

He’d rather look at the scar on his neck from where Bruce had thrown a batarang at him. 

No, he’d keep the helmet on. “I’m good.” Even if you wouldn’t recognise him, at least you wouldn’t have to look at his face. His helmet was a much prettier sight. The only one who he didn’t think had an issue looking at him was Damian, a child who had seen worse during his time with his mother. 

If you did see him, recognition or not, would you have been disgusted or horrified at his face? Or would you have smiled at him and told him that his scars were important. If you recognized him, how would you even react? He was clueless, and he couldn’t ponder over those thoughts very long, not with you talking to him. 

“You don’t even want any to take home? Just bring the container back and we’ll call it even.” It was a kind offer, one you really didn’t need to offer to him. You didn’t know him, not as Red Hood, yet here you were welcoming him into your home and offering him food. 

You were just as warm and kind as always. Was it because you had forgotten him? No that wasn’t it, you still had books and items that he’d written in and touched. He had to stop letting himself think that you had forgotten him, he knew that wasn’t true. Had his death not affected you? Had you not cared for him the same way that he had for you? That he did care for you, even without the majority of his memories. 

“Okay.” They were the only words that he was able to get out. The pain in his voice was covered by his vocal modulator. At least you couldn’t tell what was going on with him from how he sounded. He wondered if the sound of the modulator made you uncomfortable though. If it did, your body language certainly didn’t give it away. 

“Make yourself comfortable, I'm almost done.”

He took the invite to move over towards your bookshelves and look through the contents. There was a fair share of classic literature in there, more modern books, and notably almost every play that Shakespeare had ever written. He didn’t spend much time looking through any specific books, but he stopped when he reached a battered old copy of Hamlet. It looked just about as used as the copy of the Odyssey that you’d given him to read while you painted. 

He couldn’t help himself, picking it up and flipping through it. Sure enough, in faded dark blue ink, there was his own handwriting. His notes scrawled wherever in the origins that he could fit his thoughts. He didn’t remember annotating this one either. The parallels between Hamlet and his own life were obvious and uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to read what a younger version of himself thought about a situation similar to his own. 

Even if he wanted to know what a younger and kinder version of himself thought about the situation, he didn’t need to read annotations in a book to do so. He tried telling himself that he wasn’t that boy anymore, that he didn’t need to worry about what he would have thought. But there would always be a part of him that would think about what a younger version of himself would have thought about what he was doing. 

He put the book back, moving to the shelf dedicated to the comic books. They were organized by universe and storyline, and there was one that stood out, a small picture frame sitting next to it. You, sitting at a book signing. So you were a professional comic artist?

He picked up the book inspecting it, the art was similar to  your painted works, bright and cheery, but as he flipped through it without reading it there were some panels that gradually got darker and had a more ominous vibe to them. Seemingly a reflection of the tone of the story. Something about the book seemed strangely familiar. He didn’t bother to try and nail down why the storyline, the smooth glossy pages pulled at some long lost string within his heart. 

The last page of the comic made his heart sink. Dedications weren’t a common thing in comic books. But this one had one. For my sweet Jay. May your afterlife be filled with Shakespeare and all of your favorite stories. 

His eyes were burning, and he thought he could feel his heart pause in his chest. There wasn’t a photo attached to the message, but the words were more than enough. He wasn’t sure if he’d even want a photo of himself attached to the dedication. Was it the only comic that you’d published? Was it one part of a series? 

He’d have to buy his own copy so that he could read it and fully wallow in whatever emotions it elicited. 

He could hear your footfalls coming up behind him, before stopping next to him, grilled cheese halfway to your mouth when you saw what he was looking at. “I just released that one a couple years ago. It’s based on a few scraps of paper Jay and I turned into a mini-comic book when we were little. He’s the one who wrote the annotations in the Odyssey.”

He knew that. Sure he didn’t remember it, but he could recognize his own handwriting. He couldn’t tell you that though. Even if deep within his soul he wanted to, wanted you to know he was ok, he wasn’t gone. He couldn’t. Not now, maybe not ever. 

“He sounds like a good friend.”

“The best. He used to get me flowers for my birthday every year, claiming that if nobody else was going to do it he might as well. Now I take him flowers every year for his birthday.” You were smiling, but it wasn’t a bright and warm smile. No, this one was almost cold, sad. Melancholy, that was the word he was looking for. 

He’d gotten you flowers every year? How could he forget doing that? Did you still have someone to get you flowers every year? You took flowers to his grave every year on his birthday? Any doubt he had about you forgetting him or not caring about him as much as he had for you slipped away. You took him flowers every year. But you were still able to be happy. His death hadn’t made you lose any of your light, at least not permanently. He couldn’t tell if he was happy about that or not. 

He was at a loss for words. He couldn’t say what he wanted to. He couldn’t throw you into a hug and clutch at your shoulders and thank you for not forgetting him the same way that he’d forgotten you.

“That’s sweet…” He wished he could say more. But he couldn’t, and you were quickly moving on. Finding the copy of the odyssey that you were letting him read and placing it in his hand. 

You were scarfing down your grilled cheese quickly, you were gonna give yourself the hiccups if you didn’t slow down. But despite the mouthful of food, you just moved your hand in front of your mouth before speaking, “Mind taking the leather jacket off today so I can get a closer look at it?” You were already making your way to the room with the painting in it, and after setting the comic back on the shelf he was following along. 

“Sure.”

He followed you into the room, putting all his weapons by the door again before shrugging off his jacket and putting himself back onto the chair by your desk. The paints for the drawing were already set back up. 

“So you make comic books for a living?”

You laughed at that, shaking your head, “No that’s just a hobby. I work at an animation studio. Comic books sure would be easier, but the two I've published haven’t done as well as they’d need to for me to do it full time. I love animation, but I certainly wouldn’t complain if I got to make comic books full time.” 

“Anything you’ve worked on that I would know?”

“Probably not. I’ve been on the team that does Superhero animations for awhile. The movie we’re working on isn’t ready yet. Probably won't be for a couple more years. Even with nearly fifty of us, animations still take so long to produce. But it's clearly the superior medium when compared to live action movies. At least for anything magical.”

That opinion made sense for you. Admittedly, he wasn’t that into superheroes, not anymore at least. Probably because he had met a few while he was working and god were some of them fucking annoying. And super villains were his least favorite thing to deal with on the job. They were a major pain in the ass to try and fight with. 

“I don’t know, but I don’t care about superhero films that much.”

His jacket was in your hands now, turning it around and inspecting it. Holding it up to the ceiling light in a few instances to see the marks on the soft almost velvety leather better.  “Then what is your cup of tea? Wait, don't tell me, let me guess!” You smiled at him, tilting your head and looking him up and down. His heart skipped a beat again. “Detective stories seem to basic for you. And you don’t strike me as the kind that wants to escape into a medieval fantasy world. So…chick lits! Romance, drama, comedy, and the occasional fantasy one, otherwise you would’ve complained about reading the odyssey.”

He couldn’t tell if you were joking or being totally serious. You were grinning now, and there was a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, but the worst part, you were close. He still loved classic literature, but a good romance book was usually his go to before going to sleep. Or trying to fall asleep, permitting he wasn’t plagued with nightmares for the night. 

“They make good bedtime stories.” He was quiet, even through his voice modulator barely audible. Admitting that you were right. “I like most classic literature though. Shakespear is a personal favorite.”

“Oooh, so the big scary red hood likes Shakespeare of all things. That’s cute.”

“Yeah and your door is painted like an old police box.”

“That is a TARDIS thank you very much.”

“What the hell is a TARDIS?”

You stopped, dramatically dropping your arms holding the jacket down and gasping at him like he’d just told you the most scandalous piece of gossip on earth. “You’ve never seen Doctor Who?”

“No?”

“Oh, I'm fixing that. Consider it homework to go home and watch it. If you don't, I'm gonna use my powers as an artist to draw you pregnant.” One hand dropped the Jacket wiggling your fingers at him as if you were casting a spell on him.

“What the fuck?”

“You heard me! If you don’t watch it, I'm drawing you pregnant, and then putting it online and tagging any vigilante with any social media presence.”

Oh god. Dick would have a field day with that. Even if he wasn’t supposed to have much social media as nightwing, he would see it, and he wouldn’t ever let him live it down when he figured out who drew it. If it had been some random person it wouldn’t have been a problem. But you weren’t a random person, even if Dick didn’t know if he was here visiting you. 

He might actually. He had zero clue if Barbara had told him about the address. The two were certainly close, even with Dick splitting his time between Bludhaven and Gotham. He just hoped Barbara cared enough about Jason’s privacy to have not ratted on his extracurricular activities. 

“I could just kill you.”

“Oh please.” You rolled your eyes at him, “ If you were going to kill me you wouldn’t have come back to let me use you as an art reference. You would’ve done it in the first place.”

You weren’t wrong. He wasn’t sure he would be able to kill you even if he wanted to. Even before you’d given him an excuse to show up at your apartment and then invited him back. The second he’d heard your name he was truly and completely fucked. Lost in a sea of emotions he couldn’t place the exact reason why he had them. No, he wanted to protect you, not to hurt you. Not again. Never again. 

“What if I liked to play with my food?” Was this flirting or was this threatening you? He couldn’t tell. But you were still smiling at him, unbothered by the implication of him killing and then eating you. 

“As far as I know, Red Hood’s never eaten anybody.”

“Everyone has secrets.”

“Touche. But don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m totally defenseless. I took a few krav maga classes you know. And how do you know I’m not a cannibal? I hear human meat tastes like beef.” 

He didn’t know that you’d taken krav maga classes, but a few classes certainly weren’t going to be enough for you to be able to beat him in a fight. Not when he’d gone through a number of trainers during his time with the league of assassins, slaughtering half of them afterward. Not when he still had all the muscle memory from training under Batman. 

But it was comforting to know that you hadn’t gone out into the world without any knowledge on how to defend yourself. Who had told you about the human meat bit? Was it one of those things where you got curious and googled it, likely putting yourself on some government watchlist? Or had you met someone who’d told you that. 

After a moment of silence, you laughed at him. Deep within your chest, your entire body shaking with laughter. He felt like someone had dropped a piano on top of his chest at the way you were smiling, at how you interacted with him so easily. Were you like this with everyone? Did he remind you of himself?

“Are you fine with music playing through speakers instead of my headphones, or is it gonna distract you from the odyssey?”

“Music is fine.”

“Then boot up my computer and open spotify. Passwords zero, eight, sixteen.”

Those numbers felt light they should mean something to him. But they didn’t. God they seemed so familiar, but why. He shoved the thought aside, hitting the power button on your computer and unlocking it. 

He truly thought his heart might stop when the computer opened to its home screen. Your background was a photo, of a younger version of you, with him and one other boy. The strange boy and yourself both had an arm around his shoulders, squeezing your faces together. It looked like it was taken in one of the photo booths that they had in arcades. 

You really hadn’t forgotten him had you? There were whispers of him everywhere in your apartment, and even with just two simple visits to it he was starting to see them more and more frequently. His handwriting in your books, a comic book dedicated to him, a photo of him as your computer's background. There was more evidence of him here in this apartment he’d never been in, then there was in Wayne manor. Just how much of him lingered in your life? 

You noticed the way that he had faltered, looking over at him. “The one in the middle is Jay. Jason. The other boy is one of my friends, Sammy. He’s working on his pre-med degree in Central City right now.”

“Good for him.” You two had another close friend? Fuck. Now staring at his face he seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t remember him. Looking at a photo of you had worked to jog his memory about you, but this boy? Nothing. He didn’t know if he’d ever get over how strange this felt. Seeing or hearing things about his past that he didn’t remember. He’d long since given hope at getting all his memories back, so this feeling wouldn’t ever go away. But would he get used to it?

Spotify was easy enough to open up, however there was a nearly overwhelming amount of playlists. Some of them just had one word titles, others had long rambling ones. But there was one that seemed specified for art so he hit play on that one. He couldn’t see whatever speakers the sound was coming from, and it didn’t sound like a monitor speaker, but the sound filtered through the room anyway. 

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

You hummed and danced around a bit while you painted. Occasionally turning to him to investigate his gear, before going back. Even with him here, reading a book in your space, you danced like nobody was watching. You weren’t dancing as much as when you were truly alone in your apartment, but it was less about how much you did, and how you danced. Without a worry about looking silly or being judged. 

You only painted for a few hours before you were kicking him out, telling him that you needed to go to bed and handing him a plastic container with grilled cheese in it, a reminder to watch Doctor who, and instructions to come back tomorrow. 

He went back to one of his safehouses nearby, he wasn’t really tired yet, but he was hungry. And even if it was cold now, the grilled cheese sounded so good. Getting all the pieces of his armor off took a few minutes. But once it was off and tossed onto one of the creaky chairs in the safehouse, he wad dropping himself on to the rotting couch. 

Then his phone screen lit up with a facetime notification. Roy. Not entirely unusual that he was calling him now. Lian was still little and she kept weird hours, but even before he had Lian, Roy would have been up late working. Just like Jason. 

Jason picked his phone up and answered the call, Roys red hair and blue eyes filling up his phone’s screen. Before Jason even had a chance to say hello he was talking. Quieter than usual and on his balcony, Lian must be asleep then. 

“I heard a rumor about something.” Fuck. Ok, no, this was fine. Jason could ignore the boa constrictor starting to wrap around his chest. It could be something totally unrelated to him, some silly drama that Roy wanted to fill him in on. Even if it was about you, why was he anxious? Roy had been Dicks’ friend first, sure. But Jason and Roy were close now, and he trusted Roy to not go talking about things that he shouldn’t with people that he shouldn’t. “Something about an old photo and you stalking some apartment buildings?” 

Dick had to have been the one who told him. “It’s not really their business.”

“They just want to make sure you’re good, dude. So, what’s up? Don’t hold out on me either, if you do I’m just showing up and investigating for myself.” Jason was careful to not look at the preview of his own face in the corner of his phone screen. Habit more than anything. 

He knew he was supposed to talk about things, it was supposed to help. But did he really want to? He’d rather talk about it than have Roy show up and shove himself into your life. And you were nice enough to simply let him. Likely the two of you would’ve become friends, which would have been fine.  But Jason wasn’t ready for that yet, he wasn’t sure he was even ready to tell Roy about you. Not with all the confusion that muddled his head, emotions he recognized but couldn’t determine why he felt them, memories he was starting to recall, incomplete and out of order. But he was supposed to talk, and it was supposed to help him work through his emotions. So he’d try, in spite of the constriction he felt around his chest. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this.”

“Not even Lian?” 

“Nobody. I’m serious Roy.”

“Yes sir, boss man.” Jason felt himself smile slightly at that. It was a joke, deeper than most people would have thought. The people who worked for him during his time as a proper crime lord called him that. He’d run into a few actually and they wanted him to go back to it, claiming he was a better boss than anybody else in the area. He knew that he was, if you simply obeyed his rules then the benefits were way better than anybody else was offering. 

It took Jason a moment to find the words, “Dick asked me about an old childhood friend of mine. I didn’t recognize the name so he pulled out a few photos. I didn’t…I didn’t remember her at first. But looking at the photos brought back some bits of the memories. Oracle found out and sent me the name of the apartment building. I just wanted to check and make sure that she was doing okay.”

“Isn’t that a bit…like the bats?”

“Not when she’s inviting Red Hood inside to use him as an art reference.”

“What?” Roy’s laugh made its way through his phone's speakers. “Okay start at the beginning dude. There's no way you just knocked on her door or something.” 

So Jason did, still picking and choosing what information to tell his friend. He told him about figuring out which apartment was yours, the fact you were an artist, you taking a photo of him on the rooftop and being drug away by your friend, striking a deal with him. He didn’t leave much out from the story. The photo of himself, you, and the friend he didn’t remember on your computer screen, the books with his handwriting, the comic book that you had dedicated to him, the fact you took flowers to his grave every year, he kept all of that to himself. They felt important, personal, things Roy didn’t need to know. He also didn’t tell Roy about the swell of emotions that he was dealing with now, all of which were related to you. 

Roy knew the most about just how much Jason didn’t remember. Not all of it, but a lot of it. He was the safest one to talk to about this. They talked until the conversation hit a natural halt and then Roy went to nap until Lian woke up. Jason had needed that. His anxiety hadn’t disappeared, but it had certainly lessened. 

He glanced over at a long abandoned journal on the table. Maybe he could write through his emotions, organize his thoughts, try and put a timeline together of your interactions. If he asked you about your childhood with himself would you tell him? 

[smoothie03]

Spoiler for my upcoming animatic

[olexiss-s]

A short attempt to follow up on Solas and Lavellan in the Fade after the events of DAV. Spoilers ahead.

"A reprise"

Miriel opens her eyes as Fade materializes before her. The air feels strange—heavy, gray, with a faint buzzing all around her. It takes her a few seconds to adjust. She’s been here physically before, trapped by the Nightmare. Yet this is no creation of any demon, she hears no voice but her own racing thoughts. Her eyes scan the surroundings, but she is searching for Solas.

He stands a few steps ahead of her, bent over, his hands clasped tightly around himself. She takes a cautious step toward him, placing her hand gently on his back.

"Solas…"

He straightens slowly, taking a moment before turning to meet her gaze. The pain in his expression tightens Miriel's throat. She exhales.

"... I still mean what I said to you in Skyhold," she murmurs. "Next time you have to mourn, you don’t have to do it alone."

His eyes darken with deeper sadness, but a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

"You don’t deserve to be trapped here with me, vhenan," he replies softly. "This is my grief to bear."

"Where is here, exactly?" She has no intention to explain herself further. 

"A prison," he says, his voice trembling, "fortified by regrets."

"Regrets of those trapped?"

"... Yes." His voice wavers, raw.

"We’ll find a way out," she reassures him. "But first, let me see your wounds."

She takes his hand and leads him to a large stone nearby. They sit, and she reaches for the satchel attached to her belt. Tilting his face gently toward her, she begins cleaning his injuries with a cloth and some alcohol. His eyes avoid hers, carrying the weight of countless unspoken truths.

"The people I failed... The Veil..." he whispers, his voice breaking.

"It is not enough to be right, my heart," she interrupts, her tone heavy with compassion. "The consequences..."

"Felaasan..." The name escapes his lips with reverence. He is on the verge of tears. She has never seen him like this before.

Her thoughts drift to a moment during their time in the Inquisition, after the first execution carried out in her name. She had come to him trembling searching for a familiar face, her shame and guilt pouring out as tears on his shoulder. That night, his calm voice had been her anchor, soothing her soul with stories of forgotten heros plagued with similar dilemmas.

Now, she takes his face in her hands, her fingers brushs softly against his cheek. She kisses him deeply. There is so much to say—questions flooding her mind, anger still lingering from years past. But they can wait. In this moment, the only thing that matters is them together at last.

She recalls those who mocked her for believing in his heart. She had felt it too, doubt gnawing at her so intensely as his words twisted her guts in knots. But her stubbornness was only outmatched by his own. His broken resolve now, however, is a sight to be seen.

She has never seen him as a god. Yet the legends—the ones spoken in hushed whispers around the clan’s campfire—uttered his name like a curse. When she returned broken and bruised from the war, painted as the prophet of a foreign god, her bare face—an insult to her blood. Her keeper, uneasy and bitter as she muttered the name "Fen’Harel" in her sleep. As if the betrayer of kin was her only guardian.

She should be angry. She should offer no understanding to the one who had shattered the world, unearthed her roots, and burned her faith. Who had emptied every temple, leaving only frescoes of lies. Yet as she looks at his face now, his immortal pain reverberates through her. It is what kept her searching, following each trail he purposely left for her.

For a few moments, they remain grounded through this touch, among the ghosts surrounding them. 

"Tell me about Mythal," she asks, her voice on the verge of care and sharpness. Perhaps she aims to understand. Perhaps to grab the hilt of the dagger at his side, uncertain whether to pull it out—or twist it.

"You said she was the best of them," she continues. "Yet she used you. Changed you from who you were. Your wisdom... aimed to kill, to claim what was never yours..."

"I followed her like a lost pup," he admits, his voice tinged with both bitterness and despair. "She made me who I am. But I carried out her plans of my own will."

"The Exalted Plains. Your spirit friend... Wisdom turned to Pride," she reminds him.

"Now I know," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion, "death was much kinder fate then what she would have become..." His voice breaks again. "...and for all those who would stand in her way." he adds.

Eyes heavy with regret almost fade to grey.

[screechingfromthevoid]

Dorian with the crown keepers in some quiet taverns in quiet towns as they travel, he's always up late. He can't quite fall asleep well. So he sneaks out to a different tavern than the one they're staying at. He doesn't want to risk someone recognizing him in the morning.

At the new taverns, he goes straight to their stages. The emptier the better but it's not hard for him to convince a half drunk bard to get even drunker.

Sometimes he'd sit on the poorly lit stage and strum his mandolin and not say a word at all as he started to pluck out a tune. The chords are simple at first, something he heard in a dream. Every night spent working, adds another measure. Deeper swells and higher jumps. A mournful reverberation. He was stuck for a while.

Until he hears "glad you're not here... wish you were anyways".

Then, disjointed and seemingly unexpected, a reprise of that first plucking, an octave and a half lower. Still major, still jovial. Just. Deeper. Just... Realer.

I'll fix the transition later, he thought.

That's when the lyrics came. They weren't good but they spilled out of his mouth involuntarily. If it were up to him, those thoughts, those feelings would stay caged in his heart. Instead, a room full of strangers knew him more fully than his intimates.

Protector of air, guard of heart, bulwark of us

His simple plucked out tune, a dreamed up melody for a man he could only dream of.

You say you don't lead. But when I look to you, you're drenched in the boreal crux

A deep and quiet start to the encroaching swell, getting louder and higher.

Crowns of spiders couldn't tempt me astray from your due north

Trilled eight notes that felt like crawling legs and whispy silk on the back of the neck.

I thought you might be the wind caught in my sails. Always only you caught in my fibers

His last word carries a sour note, it sounded wrong, out of tune. Like he was.

A storm by another name, gold and red and melting black, tore us off course

Dorian's run was backwards, like he was free falling from a ledge. Accidentals plaguing it's decent.

It's harder than ever to orient through shades of grey and leave behind no remorse...

That reverberation was accompanied by a strain in his voice. Something that happened every night once he made it to that point. It came next to a swallow of something in his throat. That transition came to him, when Dorian thought about what got him out of his slump, he laughed. Bashfully, sheepishly. He always felt his face burn.

My heart aches. Stay steadfast. Fairer winds...

What a thing to say instead of I miss you.

I have stolen a world away. You are there, I am here. And all I want is to be together when we wake

His melody, their melody, picked up again. His fingers started to pluck staccatos in between the languid chords.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or so they say. This distance has only made mine bleed icar

Dorian wouldn't allow himself to end this with a confession. At least, not one of guilt. It wasn't supposed to be about his straying. It was supposed to be about Orym. It was supposed to be about the man he-

I look for the direction ivy green grows. I look to you still, to find my way.

Sometimes he ended the song with another reprise of his dreamy melody. Sometimes, his fingers would slip on the strings and rancid mistakes would ring out into the crowd. It seemed to depend on how hard they fought that day. How much more Opal stained.

Dorian would always thanked the crowd before taking up the coins that were haphazardly thrown on stage. He wouldn't set out a hat or cup, it wasn't about that, but there was always coin at his feet by the end.

He'd walk quiet streets and thought about Bertrand. Dorian understood now, what he said about walking alone at night. He stepped carefully up lulling tavern stairs thinking about picking up a bottle for a round of "what the fuck is up with that" with friend that weren't waiting for him. He slid into the room he shared with his brother, acknowledging every time that this was the first time they did that. They never shared a room or a bed as children. They didn't share much. Now fully grown, he felt they were more childish than ever.

Dorian curled into himself on his cold side of the bed and thought about how he used to have a pulsing heart beat on his skin. Whether it was across his legs, against his back, against his chest. He never felt loneliness like this before. He never felt the absence of someone before.

And he was worse for it

[dandelions4dew]

things i noticed about urinetown demo album act 2 !!!!

link at the very beginning this time because i forgot about it w act 1 https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQM67ySkrIvK3D6_LDXpjYEw4Fom6oMb_&si=6pxXmzsExIc_NUoC

get ready for more rambles ;)) [i apologize in advance]

also note: MAJOR spoilers for urinetown if you happen to be stumbling across this !!!!! that is all :D

— more pitch/key changes! not as significant as act one i dont think? nor anything really specific

— first off. what is urinetown . there's no "dance! no!/dance!" bits ??? it feels so WRONG how else am i supposed to dance while singing about not dancing :((

— commenting on cladwell's voice because i don't think i did that with the last one . it's ????? i can't even explain it . think maurice from beauty and the beast but like, 10x more awkward and obnoxious

— oh yeah on the no "dance, dance!" bit, ma strong doesn't comment on "your heart is like a stallion!?" ,, she kinda just asks bobby if they really will win and it makes me so sad (i'm forever plagued by the fact this women lost both her husband and her son in the span of maybe a week MAX)

— sorry i will never not love sally's part of what is urinetown . it's a little more monotone here ? but it's practically the same and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

— LOCKSTOCK DOESNT DO THE "DOWWNN" RIFF

— also there's piano at the end vaguely resembling the piano in the act one finale instead of . how it is in the cast recording ,, i can't explain it over text ykwim

— SNUFF THAT GIRL.

— OR RATHER. THE LACK OF IT.

— IT JUST DOESN'T EXIST. INSTEAD IT'S A FIFTY FIVE SECOND SONG ABOUT OLD SO-AND-SO.

— i wish i was kidding. it's literally just the poor people commenting on how they knew nothing about the guy for just under a minute

— where's HOPE. where's HOT BLADES AND BECKY TWO SHOES. WHY AREN'T WE THREATENING TO SNUFF THE GIRL?? WHERE EVEN ARE WE

— i really wish i could learn how this segwayed from what is urinetown + into run freedom run . like . how did we GET HERE

— run freedom run is . essentially the same? again with monotone bobby though

— THE "IM FRIGHTENED" TINY TOM DIALOGUE IS AFTER THE FIRST VERSE WITH THE ENSEMBLE. AND THEN IT IMMEDIATELY SEGWAYS INTO THE ACAPELLA GROUP.

— THERES STILL A BOBBY RIFF!!! YAY!!!!!

— "thank you, baby." ... LIKE. ?????? <- positive

— ending's a lot slower, too. he sneaks in another riff at the end!!

— follow your heart reprise is the ssame? just slower , question mark?

— OH YEAH. "FOLLOWW YOURRRRRRRR" LIKE POP OFF HOPE OH MY GOD

— WHY DID I LISTEN TO THAT MAN. YAYY

— HELP I FORGOT ABOUT FIPP'S VOICE. (actively relistening to the album as i type this to make sure i catch everything . if that wasn't clear)

— he also vaguely sounds like he's about to break down sobbing but he has more composure than cladwell

— forever obsessed with lockstock + barrel's verse in this song. there's nothing different. at all. i just really really like it <3

— "there's NO saving hope now, ms pennywise" . it goes all high-pitched on "no" it's very amusing

— "you, my boy, stand on the very threshold to a new werld" i love barrel

— "door? more like.. brick. and pigeons. a rooftop?" where'd the railing go :(

— i have no idea if this is kept in the actual show since it's in the script?? yet i don't remember it at all?? but anyway lockstock and barrel laugh all maniacal after "to the very gates of urinetown itself!" i love them sm

— same as above as it's in the script but not in any recording i can listen to but there's a bunch of "urinetown URINETOWN urinetown URINETOWN" over and over in the background of bobby realizing what they're actually doing on the rooftop

— forever distantly disappointed that the "why did i listen to my heart" bits aren't faster

— "why did i/he listen to that-" "cad?" "crook!" "dad?!"

— "why did i/he listen to that-" "CLADWELL. bad!"

— "WHY DID I LIIISSSTENNN TOOO MYYY-" "heeeeeaaarrrrrrrrtttttttttt!!!!!!!" and it's all highpitched i love it

— sally actually sounds like . little ,, during tell her i love her

— and she doesn't start sounding teary, or scared . she's kind of . resigned? and confused? trying to understand what she just witnessed and it makes me so sad

— she starts to grow more emotional with her "wait! wait, please! there's more.."

— then MA STRONG. AUGHH "what else did he say, little sally? go on. you can tell us" WHAT THE SHIT :( JSKLGSHHL

— MISS MA'AM IS ACTIVELY BEING TOLD HER SON'S LAST WORDS AND STILL FINDS IT IN HERSELF TO COMFORT A CLEARLY TRAUMATIZED CHILD

— there's no "and then he EXPIRED!" in the video of the song and it deeply wounds me

— AHAHA WE'RE NOT SORRY.

— first off. little jingle at the beginning!!! very fun :DD

— LOCKSTOCK & BARREL. OHH MY GOD THEM.

— dialogue is essentially the same until the confession

— "i've been meaning to ask, mister lockstock. do you ever, uh.. have any, uh... doubts? about what we've been doing?? about the killings and all???"

— "it may surprise you to learn that sometimes i do. oh, sure, i'm not one to flinch from the infliction of pain, but the health and security of this town are my primary concerns." cutting lockstock's bit to point out that the way he says "flinch from the infliction of pain" makes the brain really happy . anyway

— "i love the people of this community, mister barrel! very much!! cladwell's edicts may be their only chance."

— "....and i love you very much."

— (pause) "..iii see."

— (another pause) "..erhh, keep a sharp eye out, mister barrel! there's no telling what hole they may be coming out of!"

— and then i assume this is where lockstock exits

— "......now, why would he put it like that?" i really wish i knew, barrel. i really did.

— "RRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH" <- CONTINUOUSLY THE NOISE THE POOR MAKE UPON KILLING THE RICH IT'S SO RANDOM AND IT'S MY FAVORITE THING

— i really love the way sue and ma and the rebels say "now you're sorry" specifically . something about the intonation is so fun

— BRITISH MILLENIUM!

— also her and fipp's dialogue is practically entirely different . millenium believes that the rebellion will be crushed and that they'll be heading to rio, smooth sailing. fipp's just. there. talking about how he never "felt entirely comfortable in this industry" (he's one to talk)

— they sound like bitchy teachers catching up . i dont know how else to describe it . it's like they gave the voices of an evil snow white and a raspier french? shere khan a love story

— "ugh, sometimes it makes me want to- it makes me want to-" "run away?" PIANO CRESCENDO "yyes!" and millenium's sounds like she's swooning

— "it's ze devil's work! perhaps we'll never be able to forgive ourselves for what we've done, but, maybe, just maybe, we'll find the strength to forgive each other!!" "oh! i'm ready! let's begin again, together!" "let's go!" "oh!"

— "..wait a minute. did you hear zat?"

— "RRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH"

— after the "we're not sorry" verse, there's ANOTHER ONE. cladqueen duet again !! this times it's "you're not sorry" !! as they talk about what they can do with their money (ie. oyster halfshells, gourmet lunches)

— mcqueen is so zesty btw

— the "til they get to urine-" is still so fun AAAAA

— the reprise is the same as the cast recording for the most part?

— penny does say "see ya, honey" though . reminds me of how they both use "hope, dear" as a petname for her it's rlly cute to me

— i see a river has the same accompaniment?? but the rhythm is so different

— "come to the rivERRRR" i LOVE hope's vocals here

— "no one can touch me, not if they want the show to end." "i guess that would be a good idea." "and besides, the rebels don't have much time left. just watch." lockstock and sally bashing head against the wall

— mcqueen and hope have a whole conversation where they discuss how the water isn't able to sustain the strain theyre putting on it. she still calls cladwell a tyrant tho

— "here's a flower i picked for you, miss cladwell. one almost as pure as your heart." i think that's ma strong. we love you ma strong

— "friends on the shoreline, wave adieu" damn okay

— we get dialogue where we see mcqueen skedaddle off to rio !! he kinda just. abandons them. "you've got to OPEN YOUR EYES, MISS CLADWELL. IT'S OVER."

— he also INVITES HER TO COME WITH HER??? BUT SHE SAYS NO??? "i belong here! bobby would've wanted it that way! ..i think. the fact is, i never really got to know him that well." i don't know whether to laugh or cry

— "of course, it has! don't you know what you are?" "..a river?" and it's said in the most deadpan voice I LOVE IT SLHGDS

— lockstock "supposes" that little sally is right when she says the title is awful . god i love them

— OH YEAH. "oh, officer lockstock. i love you!" ",,,not in front of the audience, little sally..!" im. gonna take this as lockstock just being unable to handle any affection in any form yk

— AGAIN WITH NO "SHOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW" LIKE. WHAT

okay that's it. finally. how did i ramble more on this one than act one. i'm so sorry (no, i'm not, not really) i'm going to. actually try and get some work done now <3

[gwenster]

This Had Better Come to a Stop (March of the Falsettos)

Per usual, Marvin is projecting his misogyny onto the people in his life. This statement demonstrates Marvin's insistence for Whizzer to take on a domestic role in their relationship as he attempts to compensate for the lack of a housewife role in his life following his divorce. He wants Whizzer to take over Trina’s previous role with no complaints; in “Tight Knit Family (Reprise)” Marvin literally states, “I want a wife who knows what love is” as if he wants a wife when we clearly know that is not the case.

Not only that, it demonstrates Marvin’s continual disrespect for Whizzer’s emotions as the statement clearly shows his disregard for whatever Whizzer is feeling: “hating him” or “needing him.” Marvin doesn’t believe that Whizzer loves him and so he self-sabotages through dismissing his own, and Whizzer’s, emotions.

Marvin’s self-centeredness is not something the musical shies away from admitting and thus us a prime example of just that. It highlights Marvin’s selfish nature, prioritizing his own needs and desires over Whizzer’s.

The subject of the lyrics pertaining to food is so fitting. The continued textual theme of food in the Marvin Trilogy is one of my favorite things to point out and it deserves its own analysis post but for now I’ll stick to writing about how these lyrics highlight Marvin’s particular relationship with meals and cooking. With a concept like this that unmistakably dates all the way back to the sequel, with In Trousers specifically honing in on his obsession with meals with songs like, “How Marvin Eats His Breakfast” and continues to plague the rest of the trilogy.

This Had Better Come to a Stop (Falsettos)

The lyrics in Falsettos differ. I am curious as to why the lyrics were replaced. In the context of Marvin’s character and the pair's relationship, the remark is so meaningful that its removal feels like a missed opportunity; I almost feel robbed due to its absence. Not that I dislike the new lyrics by any means; rather, I adore them.

The entire exchange between Marvin and Whizzer during the beginning of this number is truly one of my favorite scenes in the entire musical. The acting in this singular minute of dialogue is breathtaking, it’s so grounded and characterizes the pair insanely well.

Even though it’s directed at Whizzer, Marvin’s remark on how “Life can be wonderful” is him reassuring himself of that fact, not Whizzer. In this scene, he shows no regard for Whizzer’s emotions; continuing the very one sided nature of the exchange the two are enduring.

Following the reflection of his life, he narrows down his analysis, remarking on his relationship with Whizzer. With his words now partially directed at the other he states, “Isn’t this wonderful?” seemingly giving Whizzer the floor to voice his opinion. Which, in the proshot, Whizzer eagerly does, or rather, attempts to. He begins to reply in an effort to soothe the other and point out the truth in his statement, but an insecure Marvin, who admittedly enjoys picking fights over trivial issues, interrupts him, continuing to stir the pot.

Whizzer’s actions heavily contrast his nature in previous scenes. Unlike “The Thrill of First Love” which introduces us to their relationship, describing how both Marvin and Whizzer both enjoy fighting stating how “of all the lesser passions” they “like fighting most.” Marvin is still acting under this notion. Despite this, Whizzer acts maturely in this situation, making an effort to have a sincere discussion. This is the first time we see Whizzer’s genuine investment in the committed aspect of their relationship, showing there is more to him than originally presented. It’s just another example of how he’s not so great at continuing his facade of not wanting something serious while actively pursuing exactly that. Namely how it explicitly states that he’s had dinners with Marvin’s immediate family and has familiarized himself with his child to the extent that he has.

As previously mentioned, the acting in this scene is amazing. Depending on the performance there are plenty of conclusions that can be drawn from their own interpretations and I’ve had varying ones over the years but it’s undeniable that their body language speaks volumes.

I wish I had access to any stage directions from this moment, but alas I will just be describing what I see:

Whizzer is provoked and stands up to emphasize his point. Marvin then grabs the collar of Whizzer’s suit and shakes him while proclaiming “Life can be wonderful.” He lets go and continues with “Isn’t this wonderful?” Following this Whizzer reaches out to reassure him but Marvin is quick to push him away to which Whizzer flinches or at least experiences a full-body pause to represent shock or dismay and he spends the rest of the confrontation stone faced after freezing up.

Marvin’s display is insanely contradicting, he speaks so gently at moments yet aggressive is at the same time. Due to this Whizzer is left confused, scared even, during their interaction with his whole demeanor changing when Marvin puts his hands on him.

TLDR. I adore both renditions of “This Had Better Come to a Stop.” It’s arguably my favorite song in the entire Falsettos soundtrack and I love both variants of these lyrics. I feel like Marvin as I practically profess how, “I want it all” as I wish these lines could coexist in the same version because of how impactful and relevant they are.

[pokeberry5]

Did Tim “kill” King Snake and does Bruce know?

In Tim’s first solo min, he goes to Paris to learn martial arts and get that “edge” he thinks he needs to properly assume his role as Robin. He ends up on the tail of British Lord, Hong Kong-based heroine kingpin, leader of the Ghost Dragon gang, Sir Edmund Dorrance AKA King Snake (who is blind, which will be important later). Tim’s only companions on this world tour are Lady Shiva, who wants to defeat Dorrance to prove herself stronger, and ex-DEA agent Clyde Rawlins, who wants revenge against Dorrance for Dorrance’s reprisal killing of his family.

Robin I #4 --  the dream team, I love them

The trio catch up to Dorrance in Hong Kong, where he’s waiting for them in what seems to be the top suite of his skyscraper, 50 stories up.

In this final confrontation with Dorrance, Tim takes full advantage of a crucial moment of distraction to kick Dorrance out of the window. Dorrance ends up clinging to a ledge, hanging on for dear life.

Shiva then appears to order Tim to kill Dorrance, presumably by kicking him off the ledge. (It becomes clear then that this is how Shiva intends to prove herself stronger than Dorrance: she trained Tim and therefore Tim is her weapon and an extension of herself. If Tim defeats Snake, she defeats him by proxy).

Tim refuses and walks away. All we see is him listen  as Dorrance falls to what Tim explicitly assumes is his death, 50 stories down.

Robin I #5

So, while Tim isn't directly responsible for Dorrance's death, he was the one to put him in that position and then left him there to fall.

It’s unclear how Tim conceives of his actions here and how we are supposed to interpret them, especially in light of Tim’s refusal to kill in earlier chapters in this arc (and after).

Robin I #2

Robin I #4 -- I love Shiva

He stopped Rawlins from shooting and killing gang members, but then points to the danger Rawlins might have put them in by accidentally shooting crates containing plague (please read this arc it’s really fun despite suffering from uh. severe written in the 90s syndrome) and then explicitly restates his vow not to kill.

AND THEN, the plot thickens!!!

Dorrance did not actually fall to his death; he caught himself on a ledge below, where he believes Tim came down to taunt him. He came away from his fall with a fear of Tim and an obsession with killing him to purge himself of that fear. (anyway Sir Edmund Dorrance walked so Ra’s could run)

Batman (1940) #468

Batman (1940) #469

Dorrance moves to Gotham with the Ghost Dragons and takes over Chinatown (which. Who decided to put, a British lord, what boils down to an allegory of British colonialism in Hong Kong as the head of Chinatown? I have questions – anyway crimelord Lynx ftw)

In the course of his pursuit of Robin, it is revealed that Bruce believes “it was Lady Shiva that caused Dorrance to plunge to his death”—that Tim told him this.

Batman (1940) #469

This is clarified a bit more later, when Bruce confronts Dorrance.

#469

Dorrance explicitly accuses Tim of murder. He outlines the incident leading up to his fall—that Tim tricked him and attacked him from behind (he did, we saw this), that Dorrance was left dangling, and that Tim then caused him to fall.

Bruce refutes this accusation by claiming that it “wasn’t Robin who left you for dead. … Robin spared you. It was Lady Shiva who threw you to your death.”

From this, we can assume that in the moments after Tim refused Shiva and walked away, Shiva threw Dorrance down, which he didn’t realize because, as Bruce claims, he is blind and was likely traumatized by the incident. We can’t know this for sure, however—that Shiva threw him down—for exactly those reasons. Bruce is working off what Tim apparently told him, but we—and Tim—did not see this happen.

Bruce’s explanation of what actually happened also calls into question what exactly Tim told him about what happened.

It’s unclear what exactly he is refuting by: “It wasn’t Robin who left you for dead.” Does he not count Tim leaving Dorrance hanging as “leaving him for dead” or is the implication that Bruce thinks Shiva was the one who both threw Dorrance out the window and off the ledge? We never actually see what Tim told Bruce.

This leaves us with some possibilities:

that what Tim did by leaving Dorrance to dangle, by leaving him to Shiva, does not count against Batman’s no-killing rule.

Perhaps that Bruce does not feel that he could have expected or wanted Tim to step between Shiva and her target, Dorrance

that Bruce does not actually know what really happened—that Tim kicked Dorrance out the window, which in turn implies that either Tim may have stretched the truth or Bruce misinterpreted (purposefully?) what Tim told him

These all seem inconsistent, however, with incidents further down the line, with Cluemaster for example, and then when Tim rebukes Azbats for leaving Abattoir to die. A core tenet of Tim’s characterization is his sometimes frustrated but dedicated adherence to the no-kill rule (im beating anyone who cites the league bases at me away with a stick). So I don’t know what to do with this. Maybe it’s just comic inconsistency. Chuck Dixon, what are you doing?

If anyone has any thoughts about how to reconcile all this!! Please grant me peace

ADDENDA

i.e. stuff that I can’t possibly expect to be addressed in comics, but that I think about anyway

Related to this arc—a point is made a few issues later that Tim at this time doesn’t really have anyone to confide in. He can't really talk to Batman, isn’t close to Dick at this point, and while he is willing to work with Alfred and ask for help with Bat-related things, they’re not yet emotionally close. This isolation is poignantly demonstrated by him confessing his troubles to his still-comatose father.

Robin II #2

WHOM then would he have talked to about all that happened on his little “world tour”? No one? Besides whatever happened with Dorrance and brutal training and isolation, he also had to deal with the fact that Clyde Rawlins—whom he presumably developed some sort of camaraderie with (it’s tim ;-; he forms connections) was killed by Dorrance while working this mission with him.

We know that he had no one to talk to about all that. Did Tim linger on Rawlins????? On the fact that Shiva called him her weapon?? My boy is 13 ;-;

I also love that the whole buildup to Tim’s debut as Robin is Bruce agonizing about whether he should allow another boy to assume the position that cost him his son, and is then followed by plenty of moments after of Batman being overprotective.

Batman (1940) #468

And yet, when Tim is like “I need an edge to be Robin” presumably Bruce?? although this is never explicit connects him with a martial artist in Paris and sends him off on his own. It’s also possible that Tim is the one who comes up with this given that he agonizes a bit over whether he’s doing right by choosing his own path

Robin I #1

Either way, Tim goes to Paris Alone and essentially Unsupervised.

This lack of supervision is further emphasized by the fact that he goes to hunt down a king pin all the way to Hong Kong with Lady fucking Shiva and an ex DEA agent and no other back up. And Bruce presumably doesn’t find out until Tim runs into the hitman Henri Ducard in Hong Kong, who is apparently Batman’s acquaintance. (#5)

I have so many questions. I know that the actual reasoning is probably “oh we want to give this new character a little mini adventure arc on his own!!! To showcase how cool and independent the new robin is” but STILL

(also tim immediately getting himself a little team :’) I lub him)