#(or just me making excuses so I can put vaughn in that suit for the 4079th time)

[breezypunk]

one of their favorite date nights is just strolling through the city admiring the neon lights. ♥︎

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 18

Staring John Lennon, as that kid I should’ve been nicer to in first grade who always smelled like PB&J and was never to be seen without his pokemon cards

The dancing is really too cute. They’re just absolutely giddy. Making each other laugh AND an excuse to touch? John and Paul’s heaven. 

John saying he was too excited after yesterday to go to bed. Like a fucking kid on christmas.

Everybody is serving today. While the candy-land suit is fun, I actually just love that vivid purple so much that I think it’s better without the coat over it. Billy looks extremely suave and classy.  And those red polka-dots on Ringo. Red suits him, and I think with his very frank, masculine aspect, he looks so beautiful and bold in feminine fits. Paul and John are both just wearing what they wore yesterday. Yeah. But John is still a cutie, and Paul, well, you all know.

The advice chain about finishing a song while you’re working on. Paul → John → George

Paul honestly does a great job being supportive of George and his work. Coming over and grooving with him, then hopping on drums then guitar (right-handed, may I add). Just to give George musical atmosphere to flesh out his song and start thinking of arrangement ideas, I assume. Then letting him bounce ideas around. And the whole time being overly-enthusiastic to build George up. Look how happy George is with the love and attention. 

John helping move some equipment in. We love a man who sometimes doesn’t think he’s too good for manual labor. 

Yes, clean that homeless man’s palm sweat off your instrument. Probably smart. 

TFW you made Paul McCartney jealous of your musical abilities. 

John really knew so well when to be his little impish self and when to be hard and intimidating. Exhibit A, going from, “Can we have our microphones, oh, mister, can we please?” to “And get one for Billy too.” In a matter of seconds.

George Martin stepping in when they’re all getting panicky about the sound and they need an authority figure to reassure them in ways that someone like Glyn Johns never could. Just, perfectly cool and collected, puts everything right as they’re all shouting at him like school children who’ve just had a terrible time in PE. 

“Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh, I do.” Oh, good. He did put it in. That’s nice. Right, and this is the moment Yoko decides to tell John her divorce has come through and pull him in for a big smooch. Honestly, it just shows how threatened she feels by Paul. Nevermind her whole, “good thing Paul isn’t a girl or he would have been a great threat,” quote. Clearly, he just is a threat regardless of sex.

And then John, “I’m freeeee.” At Paul. Honestly, the amount of things they direct specifically and aggressively at each other that should’ve just been general statements if there wasn’t some weird thing between them. It’s really something. Normally, you’d announce something like that to the whole room. But it seems John specifically wants to impress upon Paul that he and Yoko could get married right now if they wanted to. I mean, it’s a little difficult to make the point, because John and Paul almost aways seem to be talking only to each other. But through the whole discussion of Yoko’s divorce, John does not take his eyes off of Paul. 

Oh my gosh, Ivan Vaughn is here? How many emotional support boyfriends does Paul need to make up for John having Yoko? Glyn, Linda, George Martin, Dennis, Robert Fraser, and now Ivan? Fuck’s sake, Yoko, you’re a powerful woman.   

Paul’s Strawberry Fields piano. Let me be as vulnerable and broken as possible in my singing, since I can’t show you any other way that you’re killing me. Do you remember this song? That you wrote when we were at the height of our partnership only two years ago? How happy we were then? How beautiful the world seemed for that one brief moment? And John can’t look at him, because, yes he fucking remembers and yes he knows he’s hurting Paul. But for whatever reason, (my theory is he wanted something more Paul couldn’t give him. What that was and whether it was ever specifically vocalized I don't have a guess) going back to that time would be more painful to John than this has been.  

So they’ve been goofing off and Paul gives this little speech to get them back on task. “Alright Chawn Love. I’ve gotta call order, John, now, valuable time, here, son. Cool down, son.” But John’s response, “Don’t let me down, babe” completely switches Paul’s gears. He now thinks it’s important enough to get in this little snatch of a *meaningful* cover, “Take these Chains from my Heart,” reversing the course of productivity he’d got them on and ignoring the fact that they were about to do a take on two-shilling-a-foot tape. My interpretation of this moment is a bit tin-hatish and long, but suffice it to say, John is not happy with the message.

Everyone convincing Paul to do another take of his song is surprising, considering everything we always hear about how Paul was a tyrant task-master who just forced everyone to keep doing his lame muzak over and over when they all clearly hated it. Mal, “You can always go back to it.” Paul, “Do you want your head kicked in?” John, “We’ll never get a chance to do it again.” Paul, “Okay, honey bunch. Let’s hit it one time, tutti-frutti.” 

Yoko watching Paul check out her boyfriend’s ass. Classic. Also the fact that she literally copied his outfit? I get so much second-hand embarrassment for her, and it’s not when she’s being a weirdo and a statement-maker. It’s the having to physically stick the gum you were offering your boyfriend into this hand because he won’t take his eyes off his boyfriend for two seconds to look at you. 

Everyone laughing at Perfect Paul being out of tune is so funny to me. Like when the nerd finally gets a question wrong and the whole class is all “ooooohhhh!”

Ringo having a grand old time on the drums. I love that he just knew that’s what he wanted to do from such a young age and he never wanted to do anything else. And why would he? He’s a genius at it.

Paul. “John’s got something at 1:30 and so have I.” Smirk emoji. Side-eye emoji. George is with me. “Yeah we've got something too. I’ll do Ringo at 1:30.” I'm dead.

This moment right here hurts me. Paul’s enjoying a nice cuddle with Ringo until he remembers the camera. You’re not going to get in trouble for having your friend’s arm around your shoulders, Paul. Why are you like this? 

[becarefuloflove]

Life as We Know It- Rowaelin AU

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Chapter 2: Surprises 

AELIN

Aelin hears Rowan’s door open the same time as hers. He gives her a small nod by way of greeting, but she pretends not to see behind her glasses and walks toward the house.

Beyond the curving driveway, the front porch is dominated by enormous columns. Two parallel rows of windows line the entire front facade. Nehemia had always loved the sunlight, and from the few times Aelin had come to stay at their house in the past, there was nothing more beautiful than watching the sunrise filter in through the front windows in the mornings, and then watching the sun set behind the mountains from the back porch.

Aelin’s feet wobble as she climbs the stairs, and she grabs the railing to steady herself. This is probably the last time she will ever step foot in this house again.

“Are you drunk?” she hears from behind her.

She whirls to face him. “Yes, yes of course. I am wasted and drove here drunk off my ass the day after my best friend was murdered by a drunk driver. Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Rowan puts his hands up in apology. Aelin notices the darkness under his eyes and his crooked tie, but can’t bring herself to feel anything. She turns back around and marches up the remaining steps and knocks on the door, hearing Rowan silently come up to stand behind her.

A woman in a gray suit opens the door. “Ahh, Ms. Galathynius, Mr. Whitethorn, welcome, come in. I have everything inside.” Aelin hesitates for a minute before stepping in. She recognizes the woman from work, Kaltain. They don’t interact much since Aelin handles criminal cases and this woman focuses on family and children. But she doesn’t bring it up, so Aelin doesn’t either. They silently move from the front foyer to the back of the house. They walk by rows of pictures- Nehemia and Vaughn’s wedding, which feature a younger, happier Aelin, beaming beside her best friend. Sam’s in one of the shots too, and Aelin has to force herself to look away before she breaks down again. But it’s the pictures toward the end of the hall, right before it opens up to the back half of the house that makes Aelin stop dead in her tracks.

“The girls. The babies, where are they? Are they ok?!” Aelin can’t believe she forgot to ask about Nehemia’s twin daughters, who were her god-daughters. She’d been too busy, too caught up in her own head. She was a horrible person.

“They are fine, Ms. Galathynius. They were with a babysitter at the time of the accident and have since been placed with CPS- Child Protective Services.”

“Can I-” Aelin starts to ask, but Kaltain cuts her off.

“We’ll get to them in time, please take a seat so we can get started. There are some important things we need to discuss.” Kaltain goes to the dining table and sits down, gesturing for Aelin and Rowan to join her. They take the closest seats on either side. Aelin finally takes off her glasses, her feet bouncing up and down on the rug as she waits for the lawyer to begin talking.

“So first, I want to begin by saying how sorry I am for your loss. Losing one’s close friends is never easy, especially in circumstances like these. Nehemia and Vaughn left instructions on what to do in a situation like this- a worse case scenario in which both of them die. They spent most of their money on buying and renovating this house, they intended to use it as an investment property so not much remains. The money that does will go into a trust for the girls that they can access when they turn 18.”

“So where will the girls go in the meantime? Vaughn was adopted, and Nehemia had no siblings. Both their parents are dead.” Rowan asks matter of factly.

“That is where you two come in. In their will, Nehemia and Vaughn left custody of their girls, Orion and Azrael, to you, to both of you.”

Aelin lets out a strangled noise. “I’m sorry, there must have been a misunderstanding...we-” she says, pointing between her and Rowan, “aren’t married, or even together. We haven’t even seen each other in years.”

“Trust me, I tried to talk them out of this, but they both insisted that you two be the ones to have joint custody of the girls. Of course, if that’s not what you want, there are other options.”

At that, Rowan pushes his chair back with a loud squeak and stands up. “I-I need a minute. Please excuse me, I’ll be right back.” He walks toward the back door, fiddling with his collar as he goes, disappearing somewhere into the hedges in the backyard.

Aelin gets up too, and walks in the opposite direction, just so she doesn’t have an audience when she has a meltdown about this whole situation. Aelin as a mother is something she never imagined. Well, no, she had imagined it, with Sam. But that dream had died the night she’d lost him. She walks slowly back down the hall, but stops at the picture she’d rushed by earlier. It’s a candid shot of them laughing at a joke that Vaughn had made. Aelin can’t remember the joke now, but if she had to guess, it was probably some wild story from one of his photography expeditions. Nehemia is leaning into her new husband, grinning widely. Aelin’s head is half thrown back in laughter, resting on Sam’s shoulder as he stands behind with his arms around her waist. The other side of the picture features a lone figure- Rowan. His amusement is more reserved than the four of them, but he’s smiling as he leans one arm on Vaughn’s shoulder.

Aelin tears her eyes away and makes it back to the foyer. She makes it to the base of the stairs before falling onto the bottom one and putting her head in her hands. Reality crashes back into her- her best friend’s death, her godchildren being orphans, her becoming a parent with Rowan Whitethorn, OF ALL PEOPLE. “Is this some twisted joke?” she says to no one, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat that’s climbing higher and higher by the second. But as she’s trying to get her breathing under control, Aelin realizes this moment isn’t about her or her complicated feelings about motherhood, it’s about the people who need her most. She jumps up from the steps and rushes back to the dining room.

She gets there just as Rowan is walking back in.

“OK, I’ll take them.” she blurts.

His head whips to Aelin, but he doesn’t say anything. Aelin isn’t surprised, Rowan’s probably too concerned with his career to think about kids. She’s fine with that. Aelin’s used to doing things alone, and this will be no different. She could do it. She would do it, because she knows Nehemia would have done the same for her without hesitation.

“That’s nice Ms. Galathynius, but the Will stipulated that you and Mr.Whitethorn take this responsibility together. However, if you really want the girls and Mr. Whitethorn does not, then we can take this case before a judge and petition a change to grant you full custody.”

At that, Rowan finally speaks up. “Wait, wait. I never said I didn’t want the girls. They’re my god-daughters too, and Vaughn was like a brother to me.”

Could have fooled me, Aelin thinks, but decides not to make that comment public.

Kaltain sighs. “Well, there’s certainly a lot of paperwork to be done regarding this, and the Social Services department still has to formally assign one or both of you legal custody. So why don’t you two move in here, to this house, and keep the girls while you figure out what you’d like to do next. Someone from CPS will come by weekly to check in, and by the end of the month, you can make a final decision on how you’d like to proceed.”

“Move in….here?” Rowan asks. “But we both work in the city, and we already have our own places there.”

“Well, unless you plan to sell this house and both move into one of your apartments with the twins, I think it would be best to take advantage of the space here.”

Aelin’s one bedroom apartment is nice, but not at all suitable for babies, or Rowan for that matter. She releases an involuntary shudder at that thought. Then, she feels, rather than sees, Rowan’s eyes on her. How odd, she thinks, that she can sense his gaze so well. When Aelin turns to look at him, he seems to want to say something, but as the seconds tick by, nothing comes out. Kaltain sits patiently, looking between the two of them as she waits for a response.

“Let’s do it.”

ROWAN

24 hours ago, his life was normal. He was sitting in his apartment, putting the finishing touches on his first major story since moving to Terrasen. He was alone, but he preferred that solitude. He needed that solitude. After everything that had happened in the past 5 years, Rowan wasn’t ready to have anyone in his life. The scars were deep, and the wraiths from his past that still haunted his nightmares required his full attention to keep away. He didn’t have anyone in his life because he couldn’t. Anyone that saw him, the real Rowan Whitethorn, would run for the mountains and never return. Oh, and 24 hours ago, his best friend was still alive.

And now, standing at the front porch of Nehemia and Vaughn’s house with two suitcases of his belongings, he’s moving into a massive house with two babies and Aelin Galathynius. He didn’t know what had possessed him to blurt out “Let’s do it” a couple hours ago when the lawyer had looked to them for an answer. His own thoughts had been roaring so loud in his head when he first heard that Vaughn and Nehemia had named the two of them in their will that he needed to get out of the room, away from Aelin’s eyes which seemed to see entirely too much of him for his comfort.

It was such a Vaughn thing to do too. Vaughn who had been born somewhere in the Japanese Isles but left at an orphanage days later with no note or explanation. Who had, through a bizarre series of events, been adopted by a Wendlynan couple who were passing through the small town that day and discovered him on the stoop before the orphanage director had noticed the new arrival. The couple who had then moved next door to the house Rowan had lived in with his Aunt Maeve. Vaughn had become Rowan’s steadfast companion over the years and everything that happened within them. Vaughn had come into the world alone, but had left it with the deepest bonds. Already, the news of his and Nehemia’s death had broken on the morning news and the internet was full of stories and messages from all the people whose lives had been touched by Vaughn and Nehemia.

Just as Rowan is about to step in and close the door, he sees Aelin’s car pull into the driveway. When she makes it to the porch, he approaches her. “You need help carrying those in?”

Aelin gives him a glare, but then seems to deflate before simply nodding and stepping back to get her other suitcases. There’s four in total, and a couple of very heavy cardboard boxes.

“What could you possibly have in here?” Rowan huffs as he carries them up the stairs and into the house.

“My cases. I have two trials coming up, and still a fuck ton of work I need to get done.”

“Didn’t you just close that huge case with Arobynn Hamel? TNN was fucking chaotic that day, we changed our entire evening broadcast for it.”

Aelin looks at him at that. The kind of look Rowan imagines a deer caught in headlights receives. Blinding. Arresting. All-coherent-thoughts-in-your-head-emptying. There’s nothing to do but look back at her, and wait for the hit.

“Ha, if only we all lived in that kind of world Rowan. Put one guy away, a hundred more line up to take his place. Though sorry it ruined your show, didn’t mean to inconvenience you with my life’s work.” she finally spits out.

“So is this how it’s going to be for the next month?” Rowan huffs, running his hand through his hair before gripping it in frustration.

“Like what?” Aelin asks. “I’m just trying to move into my dead best friend’s house and try to raise two children with someone who is very obviously NOT my boyfriend or husband. I’m perfectly fine. Just a typical Saturday afternoon for me.”

Rowan sighs. “I don’t know what your deal is with me Aelin, but we have to live under this roof together. So how about you go about your business and I’ll go about mine, and we can both stay out of each other’s way.”

“You got yourself a deal, Whitethorn.”

***

A couple hours later, Rowan is waiting for the air mattress to finish inflating so he can lay down. He had offered the guest room to Aelin and she had taken it without a word. This left the downstairs couch or the air mattress in Vaughn’s office for Rowan. Of course there was the master bedroom, but it didn’t feel right for Rowan to be there. All of Vaughn and Nehemia’s things were still there and it felt too much like a mausoleum to be in there now.

When the air pump finally clicks off, Rowan throws a fresh sheet on top and immediately sinks into it. It’s not luxurious by any means, but he’s had much worse on some of his assignments around the world, so he can’t complain. “Hey, wake up. It’s time to get the girls.”

Rowan blinks and bolts awake. He looks up and sees Aelin standing in the doorway, phone in one hand, car keys in the other.

“Oh ok, yes, let’s go. I’ll drive.”

“Haha, no. Your two-door fancy pants car is not going to hold two car seats. And I don’t let anyone else drive my car.”

And so they get in and start the almost hour long drive to the courthouse to get the girls and sign the official papers. Both of them are too on edge to have a conversation, and Rowan is content to watch the suburbs disappear and the cityscape of Orynth come back into view from the window.

When they finally make it to the courthouse, he lets Aelin lead him in through the back entrance, which he suspects, by the multiple ID check points, is reserved for high level employees. Aelin claims it’s faster this way, but Rowan suspects it’s because she doesn’t want to see anybody right now or deal with their pitying looks.

Rowan’s too wrapped up in his own thoughts that he almost crashes into Aelin when she stops in front of him. He catches himself in time and looks up to see two figures that seem to have captured Aelin’s attention. It’s a man, with blond hair and the same light turquoise eyes as Aelin, and a dark haired woman.

“Aedion?” Aelin whispers, taking a couple small steps forward. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard. I heard about Nehemia and I’m so sorry Aelin.” Aedion says, walking toward them. Aelin doesn’t move at first, but then runs into Aedion’s arms. Rowan doesn’t need to see the tears to know she’s crying. “I’m here for you Aelin. I’m always here.” he says to her.

Rowan had heard the rumors. Aelin Galathynius and Aedion Ashryver were cousins, they used to pop up at campaign events hand-in-hand in their youth, which is where Rowan had first spotted them when he was just starting out in the industry as a reporting intern. Aelin and Aedion were inseparable. There was a running joke in the press room that if you found one, you’d see the second close behind, and could judge the state of President Rhoe by their level of supervision. If Aelin and Aedion had an aide nearby, things were generally well. But if they were roaming the grounds alone, something serious was going on. But in the past few years, Rowan hadn’t seen many pictures of the two of them together. Nor had he seen any overly exaggerated stories about them in the tabloids. He’d assumed it was because he’d moved on from the day-to-day reporting to focus on broadcasting, but watching the scene before him, it seemed like something deeper had happened.

It’s then that Aedion seems to notice Rowan standing there and he gestures for Rowan to come closer.

“Hey man, thanks for being there for Aelin. I’m so glad she’s met someone after everything that’s happened”

Rowan shoots Aelin a puzzled look. Aedion doesn’t know.

“Er, thanks Aedion, but Aelin and I aren’t...together.”

“Oh!” he exclaims, looking between Aelin and Rowan in confusion. “So, you’re just here as a friend to help Aelin identify the bodies?”

“Wait, what? There are no bodies? We’re here for Orion and Azrael.” Aelin says.

“Wait, who are Orion and Azrael? And what other reason than moral support is Rowan Whitethorn with you?”

“They’re Vaughn and Nehemia’s daughters. And Aelin and mine’s god-children.” Rowan manages to get out.

“Who we will now be raising.” Aelin continues. “ And Aedion I’m really happy to see you, but I really don’t have time to deal with your alpha-male BS right now or to explain anything about my life when you haven’t been in it for so long.”

A look of regret shadows Aedion’s face, but he wisely doesn’t ask any more questions.

Aelin looks like she wants to say something else, but their reunion is interrupted when one of the social workers comes out to the lobby and calls for Aelin and Rowan to come into her office for the paperwork. Aelin gives Aedion their new address and he promises to come by tomorrow to meet the girls and make up for the time he’s been away. The woman with him, who is introduced as Lysandra, stays mostly silent the entire time, but gives both Rowan and Aelin a quick hug before departing with Aedion.

The meeting with the social worker passes by in a blur and less than an hour later, they’re back in Aelin’s car with the girls, who are thankfully asleep in their car seats.

“I didn’t realize you and Aedion weren’t close anymore.” Rowan states, once Aelin manages to escape the city traffic and makes it to the highway.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Rowan.”

Rowan puts his hands up, “Ok, fair. Just trying to figure out how I should act when he comes over tomorrow.”

Aelin sighs. “It’s a long story, we used to be inseparable. My parents were always busy with running the country so I spent most of the day with Aedion. Then three years ago, we sort of just drifted apart and that’s that.”

“Yeah, I remember seeing you guys chasing each other around when I came for the daily press briefings.”

“You were there?” Aelin asks, shocked. “I don’t remember seeing you, and I definitely would have remembered a man with white hair walking around.”

“I was just an intern then. I sat in the back of the press room and took notes for my newspaper. But my seat was right by the window and whenever the briefing was dragging, I’d look out and often see you two running and playing. I was jealous to be honest.”

“Ha” Aelin snorts, “I was always jealous of people like you, you got to go out into the world and do something. I was stuck inside those gilded gates.”

Rowan’s eyebrows raise at that confession. Somehow he hadn’t imagined young Aelin as someone who wanted to get out. “You always seemed so happy to be playing with Aedion. So in the moment.”

“Hmm, I was happy. But after, um, after my parents di- were gone, living in the moment was kinda tough.”

He can tell there’s a lot Aelin isn’t saying, but this is the first conversation they’ve managed without being snippy with each other so Rowan doesn’t push it.

“So what happened three years ago?” Rowan asks. “Did Aedion do something?”

Aelin doesn’t respond. But Rowan sees her grip tighten on the steering wheels, and her lips tighten to a thin line and he realizes he’s said something wrong, but can’t figure out what it is. He wracks his brain to remember what happened three years ago, but all he can remember is Vaughn’s wedding in the spring.

It’s not until they’re pulling back into the driveway of the house almost 30 minutes later that he remembers. She lost her fiance, Sam, three years ago. But what did that have to do with Aedion? He tries to suppress his journalistic urge to ask more questions, and is saved by cries in the backseat. The girls are awake.

Tags: @queen-of-glass

[mindseyeinkarnate]

Portraits of a Serial Killer - “The Cell” turns 20

I've often reflected how the influence of Art is a key component missing from Modern Horror. The Xenomorph we all know and fear came from the painted nightmares of Swedish surrealist H.R. Giger, the Screamer is said to have influenced the Ghostface Killer mask.  For a further rundown of art's musings over the genre, I would highly recommend 2017's Tableaux Vivants for a look at 60 such portraits and the films they inspired.

In the summer of 2020, The Medium video game appears to correct that oversight with the recent trailer dropping, adapting Polish painter, Zdzislaw Beksinski's frightening paintings.  In the same season of the same year is when The Cell celebrates 20 years (8/17/2020).  This film appeared to feature as many artistic influences as possible into its near two hour runtime.

The sight of chains freaked me out upon watching my first Hellraiser movie, so the sexual perversion of their use in this film did little to alleviate such apprehension, especially as they pulled so tightly to suspend human flesh in the air. Despite a previous scene showing the villain having drowned his victim, this was the true introduction to his villainy - the former showed what he did, that latter why he did it.  Even re-watching this film so many years later, I had to look away from the screen, recoiling from such a grisly display.

Typically, in Horror or any film that assumes a particular aesthetic, it is color that makes the impression to set mood.  Instead, the use of white in this film, from the K9 to the bleached state of the victims is used to ghoulishly haunting effect.

I remember critics remarking that because of Vince Vaughn's comedic history they couldn't take him seriously in this role and relegated his involvement to stunt casting. I take the opposite stance since, for me, every role after this film simply serves as a reminder that he starred in The Cell.  I've always felt that comedy actors do well in dramas - see Robin Williams in "Good Will Hunting" - and I thought that Vaughn did a serviceable job in this film, never distracting from either tone or plot.

I was happy that they just dove into the mechanics behind entering one's mind as an accepted reality, that they didn't get bogged down in techno babble or exposition of the technology.  There is a time and place for the virtual journey into the cerebral frontier, such as The Matrix or a good adaptation of the Lawnmower Man, but for the Cell, I'm happy that they focused more on the story and not so much the science.  The suits do look like Twizzlers, but it was made by Eioka Ishioka (who passed away in 2012), the same costume designer as Vlad Tepes' suit from Bram Stoker's Dracula.  I do like that the two participators are suspended in the air while their minds are linked.  It's an eerie callback to the killer's suspension from chains for sexual release. Also, it does give the technology that space age feel as though they are in a weightless environment.

Since the 90's, special effects have been criticized as dominating films to the point Stephen King is quoted as remarking that "story supports effects instead of effects supporting story". Similarly, an argument can be made that at times The Cell becomes too indulgent with its usage of famous art that serve no plot function, e.g. the Horse Split, the Three Women of Odd Nerdrum's Dawn painting, Mother Theresa and her Hallmark card, etc.  As the director is quoted as saying "The thing about this film is it’s an opera, and there is no such thing as a subtle opera.”  I don't believe that the script was penned as an excuse to pack in as much gallery portraits as possible or is an hour and fifty minutes of a music video.  I just wish the director would've used each art piece he seeks influence from to develop the story or the character.  The imagery doesn't always portray the killer's psychology or the psychologist's therapeutic technique.  If he wasn't going to utilize subtlety, he should have implored restraint.  He later added "Anyway, I missed the whole plot, just been talking visual all along, ah, where are we?”

Once in the killer's mind, his depiction as the master of his domain is a hauntingly accurate depiction considering the previous scenes of suspension rings in the back of his body, which unwittingly foreshadowed to the audience his royal appearance to come.  Even the name, King Stargher, is a daunting title for a movie monster.  When rising and descending from his throne, the violet robes receding from the walls and tracing along the room is hypnotically unnerving.

As tiresome as the "we're still in the dreamworld" trope can become (The Matrix, DS9 Season 7 episode 23 "Extreme Measures"), this film not only flips it when the psychologist realizes that she's "already in", but does so in a cleverly visual way.

King Stargher

Horned Stargher

Court Jester/Vatican Clown  

Serpent Stargher

It is interesting to think that a single actor would assume many distinct monstrous characters.  Unlike a Freddy Kreuger or a Pennywise that turn into manifestations of their victims' fears, the figures that Stargher assumes are all avatars of his own warped psyche, his own inner turmoil.  Vincent D'Onofrio really does put in his all with this role.  He's soft spoken and understated when he needs to be and malicious and heartless when the scene demands it.  Along with the visuals of the film, D'Onofrio's performance is worth the price of admission.  It's a shame that his acting as well as the movie's stunning artistry are what have gone overlooked all these years.  Speaking of...

One invalid criticism that has been levied against the film is its attempts to persuade the audience to sympathize with the killer.  My intention with the following statement is neither to flaunt my Horror insight nor to divide the lines between fans within Horror and those without.  Having said that, even as an adolescent seeing this movie in theaters, I at no point felt remorse for the serial murderer and I chalk up this long-held misconception to a bad read on the film.

So off-base is this "critical analysis" that it can't even be regarded as a Jekyll & Hyde dynamic.  The villain is not split down the middle between binary good and evil, where both halves are at war over his soul, or the repressed impulses of his Dark Passenger are manifesting in a heartless butcher.  If there is any distinction, it is between who the antagonist was when a victim as a boy and what the man became as an adult victimizer.  If anything it is the good that is repressed, not the evil.  Furthermore, along with using the film's plot to force Alice down the rabbit hole of the Mad Hatter's mind, this film does address the nature of evil.  When referring to Stargher, even Jennifer Lopez's character remarks "The Dominant side is still this horrible thing".  The Vince Vaughn detective states "I believe a child can experience 100 times worse the abuse than what Gish (a different killer) went through, and still grow up to be somebody that would never, ever, ever hurt another living being."  Thus, these serve as acknowledgement that the abducted criminal is firmly in the driver's seat to the point of its reference as a "thing" and a condemnation of what the killer has become, respectively.

Along with exploring the psychology of the killer, the film does not qualify the villain's innocence, it questions it.

The critics probably missed that pesky detail that would've debunked their headline before they pressed a single word of their denunciation.

These same professional critics wouldn't give a second's hesitation towards throwing Horror under the bus and condemning Scary Movies for inspiring violence if it meant their jobs were only the line, yet they would balk at the notion that continued mental trauma and physical abuse can cause psychopathic behavior.

There are classics and icons worth praising for their plot and performances, respectively, and then there are some Scary Films that Horror Fans view with the understanding of their heavy material and without your typical fanfare because they're a hard watch.  I can see where people would be fans of Hannibal Lecter not because they or the film glamorizes cannibalism, but because of Anthony Hopkins' acting chops (excuse the pun).  Conversely, John Doe, the serial killer of Se7en, has and will likely never enjoy such admiration because of the cold purity of his calculated evil.  The 2 decade critique of The Cell's villain portrayal is a dark cloud that has unjustly hung over its head.

The motif of "the eyes of a killer" was something applauded in Rob Zombie's Halloween 2, yet ridiculed in The Cell 9 years prior?

This film's premise and the fact that it wasn't fully effectively executed makes it primed for a remake.  Hollywood needs to be issued a Cease and Desist order of such wholesale dependence on Remakes in general, let alone in the Horror genre.  When you consider that so many remakes can't outdo the original and even tarnish the films they attempt to emulate, why not fix the problems of a film that went wrong and take the credit when you get it right?

[chibimultishipper]

Zerhys prompt: dinner party

(Okay so just a heads up, this prompt request will be split into parts!  I was writing the dinner party out and it was just getting much to long, so here is part 1!)

(Slight AU in which Zer0 and Rhys’ friends have no idea they are dating each other.)

Rhys had been trying to keep his relationship with his current datefriend a secret from his friends.  It wasn’t that he was ashamed of Zer0 or anything like that, he just knew his friends could be very judgemental.  Vaughn and Yvette were overprotective and Sasha and Fiona were skeptical of just about anything.  He wouldn’t be surprised if they somehow thought Zer0 was just using him for free weapons or whatever.

On the other hand, Zer0 had also kept their relationship a secret from their friends.  Okay, secret was a strong word, they just never told them.  When Rhys had asked out of sheer curiosity Zer0 shrugged and stated “They have not asked me.”  Which in Zer0 terms was a pretty valid argument.  Rhys also had no right to judge since he had been actively avoiding telling his own friends.

Rhys would have honestly been content with just keeping quiet for another year, maybe two, but he got too comfortable.  

You see, Zer0 was still one of the best assassins out there, so Rhys often hired them for missions.  He strictly forbade all romantic interactions when on Atlas property.  Rhys excuse was that he had an ‘image to maintain.’  Zer0 had for some reason found that hilarious, but respected his wishes.

Then Rhys got greedy.

He figured a little flirting was fine as long as he was in the office.  He wanted to blame Zer0, since they had originally instigated with heart emojis and suggestive banter but it was really his own fault.  Rhys had to admit that he was a huge sap and that ended up being his downfall.  After giving Zer0 another assignment, Rhys had leaned over and quickly kissed their helmet.  It was something so simple, just a quick peck, but of course Yvette had to open the door at that EXACT moment.

Before Rhys could explain, Yvette briefly apologized, left some papers on his desk and left.  Rhys silently hoped that she wouldn’t mention it once Zer0 left, and she didn’t.  However an hour later he got many angry texts and voicemails from Sasha and Fiona and also Vaughn coming into his office screaming about “Making out with a highly trained assassin who could kill you in seconds!”

They didn’t take the news well.  Overall, they seemed more upset that he didn’t say anything and assumed the reason was because Zer0 was secretly holding him hostage. (“Blink twice if you’re in trouble.” Sasha had joked at one point).  They were all very adamant about meeting his new partner so they could “size them up” as they put it, whatever that means.

Okay so that was fine.  He knew he had to go through this at some point.  He hadn’t expected to keep their relationship a secret forever after all.  Also, he could handle his friends.  He knew that at the end of the day they just wanted the best for him and even if for some reason they didn’t approve of Zer0, he would tell them that it wasn’t their choice to make.

No, what really threw him off guard was when after he returned home and received a knock on his door.  Opening it revealed Zer0 covered in blood.

“Are you okay?” Rhys asked on reflex.  It was a silly question really, the blood on their suit was clearly not theirs.  Still, Rhys felt the need to make sure.

“We have a problem.” Zer0 said walking in.

“Zer0…” Rhys scolded as blood dripped onto the floor.  Thank goodness the apartment was hard wood.

“Sorry, I’ll help clean later.”  They promised.

“Okay good you know how squeamish I get.” Rhys said with a smile, but it fell from his face when Zer0 didn’t follow up with a witty comment.  “What’s wrong?”

“Do not freak out Rhys.”

That was not the right thing to say, as Rhys was already pre freaking out. “What? What happened?”

Zer0 shifted from one leg to another, a habit Rhys noticed they had whenever dealing with awkward or uncomfortable conversation. “My friends are aware / we are dating. Meeting is / inevitable. “

Rhys paused as he processed the information.  And then the panic began to set in. “So you’re telling me that not only do my friends want to meet you but now your friends want to meet me?” Rhys groaned. “This is the worst case scenario.  What if your friends don’t like me? What if they think I’m lame? What if they help you realize how lame I really am and you break up with me because I am so lame.”

“I’m fully aware / of how lame you currently / are. I still like you.” [ :) ]

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Is that suppose to make me feel better?”  Zer0 nodded. “It doesn’t.” [ :( ] “Okay… it does but just a little!” [:D]

“My comrades often / spend time at Moxxi’s.  I can / accompany you.”

“No no no.” Rhys groaned. “Sanctuary is basically there turf.  They know the layout the best.  No, we should all meet at least on equal ground. Oh, better yet let’s meet up in a place they’ve never been!  It’ll throw them off guard.  Unfamiliar territory, that’s a thing right?”

“They’re not enemies.” [:/]

“I know that! I just feel it would be easier for everyone to meet each other somewhere I’m comfortable in. It’ll help me be less nervous.  Oh! We could get everything out of the way and invite my friends too!  Most of them already know who you are after the traveler mission but they don’t KNOW know you.  And then our friends could meet each other! Hopefully keep each other busy and keep some attention off us, the perfect strategy.”

[?] “You’re overthinking again.”

Rhys shook his head. “Zer0 this is your first time around the relationship rodeo isn’t it? You have no idea how big of a deal this moment is!  I mean our friends meeting us and also each other is like, it’s like in movies when the couples family meet each other.  If for whatever reason they hate each other or the other’s partner that’s it!  Wacky Shenanigans that lead to complete turmoil and potential ending of relationships!”

Zer0 was almost positive that Rhys was blowing things out of proportion.  Rhys was known for being a bit dramatic.  Still, they had spend many nights in watching movies and TV shows with Rhys.  Plus, Zer0 still didn’t fully understand human relationship customs.  Maybe Rhys had a point…  “It’s that serious?”

“Yes! That is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Zer0 nodded in understanding.  “Then we should come up with a / strategy.  Ideas?”

Rhys grinned.  “Now you’re talking!  As I was saying, if we have everyone meet at the same time not only would it get both awkward encounters out the way, but also draw some attention off us.  But we need to set up a place to meet where you and I are both comfortable.  That will throw both of our friend groups off guard.  That’s going to be pretty tough though…”

Zer0 tried to think of a place that would be new to both parties, make them slightly uncomfortable, and give the two of them the advantage.  The struggle was Zer0’s friends were vastly different from Rhys’ so it didn’t leave a lot of options.  Zer0 turned to look around the apartment.  “Have any of your / friends visited this place yet?”  Zer0 asked.  Rhys had recently got a new apartment with his new Atlas money.

Rhys shook his head no. “Only Vaughn, he helped me move in.  No one else has seen it yet.  Why?”  [:D] “Oh my gosh Zer0 you are absolutely brilliant, I could kiss the beautiful mask of yours.”

“Later.” [;)] “First we must /  think of a way to /  convince them to come without  / raising suspicion.”

“Okay let me think, what can I offer here that can simultaneously  convince a bunch of vault hunters and former Hyperion now Atlas employees to come over to my apartment?” Rhys questioned.

“Something in common?” [?]

Rhys bit his lip. “Something they all have in common? Uh they’re all human?” Rhys joked. [:/]   “Yeah sorry that wasn’t funny.  Alright um-”  Rhys glanced over at his unused kitchen and snapped his fingers. “Food! That’s what they have in common they all love food! Right?”  He turned towards Zer0 for confirmation and was reinvigorated when Zer0 nodded.  “Alright I have the perfect idea! A dinner party! It can be semi formal.  You know, not too formal but formal enough to make everyone uncomfortable.”

Zer0 didn’t looked impressed.  “Rhys, you cannot cook.  At all.”

Rhys scoffed. “I can cook alright?  I can make basic stuff.”  

“You will need food for / at the very least / ten people.  I am unsure / if it’s possible.”

“Yvette is great at cooking so I’ll just ask for some of her recipes.  How hard is it to follow a recipe.” [ … ] “Come on Ze, have a little faith in me? Please?”  With that Rhys batted his eyes at the assassin.

Zer0 still seemed unconvinced, but they showed their support with a heart emoji. [  “I will assist in / anyway I can.  When should / We host the event?”

“Can you see if your friends will be free this Saturday night?  It’ll give us time to get the ingredients and do any prepping.  It’ll also give everyone time to find something formal to wear.”

Zer0 pulled up their Echo and began to send messages to everyone in the vault hunter squad.  “I’ve notified them / I should hear back shortly.  Are / you sure about this?”  Zer0 asked.  It was more of a formality since they had already sent the invitations.

Rhys laughed nervously.  “As sure as I’ll ever be.  Operation dinner party is a go.  Don’t worry, we are going to nail this.”

They weren’t going to nail this.  

(That’s it for part 1! I am definitely going to continue this so keep a lookout!

[brujeria-histeria]

Swimsuit hacy fic

Macy owned no swimsuits currently, her last regular swimsuit, she grew out of and the other one was a beach patrol bathing suit she owned from her second year of college when she got to do a special semester of marine biology and chemicals in a coastal city. 

Macy was also not one to really show off too much of her “assets” and instead usually chose to wear long flowy clothing or long sleeve shirts. So when Maggie proposed for the 4th of July, 2 days away,that they have a pool day at this fancy resort an hour into town, Macy panicked a bit. 

“Maggie it sounds wonderful but it takes me entirely too long find a suitable swimsuit to cover everything properly.” Macy did not want to make excuses, while she could usually find a nice fitting top, she had a shapely and curvaceous butt that did not like to cooperate with swimsuit season. 

“Macy, you’re have the body of a model, what swimsuit isn’t going to fit you?” Maggie deadpanned.

“Its not my size, it’s just that… I always get a little shy when I’m in a swimsuit. I never know if its too much or.” 

“Oh, no we’re gonna fix that.” Maggie waved her hand and got up to leave. “Don’t worry I’ll find you something perfect.”

For some reason Macy was nervous about Maggie getting her a swimsuit, and she had good reason to be because Maggie needed to confirm an unspoken attraction Harry had for her older sister, and now was the best time to see it in action. 

——————————————————————————————-

2 days later on the morning of fourth of july, maggie had arranged for them to get into the secure resort via a kappa member who worked there, although she begged Harry to let her use his credit card to book it because they would stay the night. Which he relented as long as she promised to behave accordingly so they wouldn’t get fined. 

the hotel room was huge, and more like a fancy apartment, which Harry nearly fainted when she told him how much the room actually went for, but sighed in some relief when she said her friend got it for them at a regular room rate. The girls would share one bedroom while harry would take the other. 

They all got ready for the pool & lounge below and put on their swimsuits. Mel had on a cheetah print monokini and matching cover up, Maggie wore a hot pink & leaf print bikini that had a bustier top and coverup which mel bought for her. Harry had on of course, a burgundy pair of swimming trunks and, ugh, a Hawaiian Shirt like a true DAD, and the Jesus 4000 sandals. 

“Harry, we need to have a sift through your closet.” Maggie shook her head. 

“What?” he said glancing down at himself. 

Mel laughed and teased Harry for looking like such an uncle. “People are gonna think you’re our dad or something.” 

“I don’t look old enough to be your father! Maybe Maggie but-”

“You look old enough in that outfit.” Mel teased. 

the last sister Macy, had not emerged from the room yet, she whispered to maggie to come help her tie the back. Once maggie was in the room, Macy hadn’t even put on the swimsuit. 

“Maggie what the hell is this??” she whisper-yelled pointing to the navy blue strappy, very limited material of the bikini that Maggie bought her. 

“A swimsuit Dr. Vaughn.” Maggie blinked. 

“I cannot go down there wearing this!” 

“Macy, I am so sick of you covering yourself up out of shame, that she be something you only do if you want to.” 

“I do want to.” 

“Yeah only because you still for some reason believe you can’t be sexy and smart. You’re a strong woman, and plus all of us have to give the haters something to talk about. Own how smoking hot you are.” 

“What haters?” Macy looked around confused.

“The haters of life.” Maggie shooed. “We’re gonna head down, meet us down there and don’t look like a nerd, if you can last an hour I’ll let you have my coverup.”

Macy pursed her lips, she was too old to act the same way she has been since she was a body conscious 14 yr old. This was the year of trying something new.

—————————————————————————————–

“Where’s your sister? She taking an awfully long time, and we’re going to lunch soon.” Harry asked.

“She’s coming….” Maggie hoped she was coming, it had been 30 minutes. 

“Maybe her bathing suit tore or something?” Mel suggested. Hm I could help her go get another one.

“No no no, I picked this one out myself and I have great taste. Harry you’ll be begging me to help me after you see Macy.” 

“Why would I-” Harry stopped mid sentence and just stared wide eyed, at the absolute vision coming across the concrete of the pool side. It was Macy with a very skimpy, very strappy, hip hugging bikini. He gulped. 

“I-I- well uh, I.” He stuttered out. 

Maggie grinned to see her sister coming across the pool side, with the heels on, which Maggie also sabotaged for her to only be able to wear those knowing Macy would never go barefoot in public.

“OH MY GODDESS.” Mel laughed. “Macy you look incredible!” 

Macy blushed as she approached, while Harry still said nothing, duly noted by Maggie, all he did was simply stare.

“Harry, you ok there.” Maggie prodded. 

“Uh, um, yes, I just uh, have never seen your sister’s stomach before…..” he trailed off. 

“Mm hm.” Maggie reclined in her chair. 

——————————————————————————————-

The rest of the day was full of drinks, food and Harry fending off the plethora of thirsty men from hitting on his three charges, looking extra jealous when they hit on Macy, who he tried very hard to look her in the eyes at all times. Dammit Maggie. 

He didn’t know what the youngest was up to, but she was obviously schememing, she grinned at his blushing face whenever he turned away from Macy. He considered not drinking tonight to avoid hiccups but Maggie was already shoving mimosas in his face and Mel handed him tequila shots, two of which she got free from the female bartender who chatted her up. 

Harry was enjoying himself nonetheless, until maggie pulled him and Macy onto the dancefloor then left them both there while she ran to “get drinks”. Harry muttered awkwardly, while Macy gave her signature awkward grin, they stood silently until the movie bodies bumped into them, pushing them together. 

“I’m not much of a dancer.” Harry looked down. 

“Me either, well I danced ballet, but uh I was never really into club dancing and stuff, you know boundaries..” Macy rambled. 

Maggie watched from afar, even if they didn’t dance it was satisfying to see those two adorable nerds turn new shades of pink and red. 

“Uh, I’m not one for the, erm grinding, either, perhaps let’s just slip off while Maggie isn’t here. Macy nodded and led Harry by the hand who felt a jolt of electricity and then heat around his neck, which earlier he remedied by jumping in the pool, but they were a bit aways from the pool and the only way through the crowd at this point was toward the balcony garden.

“Macy, I must say, I’ve been acting strange today, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, given, well….”

“You’re fine Harry. I’ve never seen so many shades of red before.” she giggled. 

“Ah well yes, the color of it, suits you. You honestly look good in any color.. Maybe I should have Maggie pick my closet, you look amazing.” Harry rubbed his neck, and looked Macy in her eyes. 

“Do you wanna, stay here to look at the fireworks, I think this is good spot, while everyone is too busy on the dance floor. I mean we’ve got an hour but,”

“I’d love to stay here with you.” Harry smiled. 

[testedtransgressor]

Rebellious Stirrings

Category: Fanfiction - Homestuck Characters: Alpha Bro Strider (Alpha Dave); Alpha Mom Lalonde (Alpha Rose); Grandma English (Alpha Jade) Rating: T Warnings: N/A Originally written: 26 January 2018

Notes: Set in the early 2000s, probably. Rose and Dave are in their 20s. Rose is a single lady who likes to pursue guys who have zero romantic interest in her, apparently...

Another event. Another chaotic mass of swirling ballgowns and overdressed women fussing over their hair and make up, with men strutting about like peacocks with their tails fanned.

Rose Lalonde stood amongst it all, smiling thinly as a courtesy as she sipped a vodka martini, barely listening to the screenwriter who had sought her out of the crowd for what was apparently going to be a one-sided conversation about how the feminist movement was putting perfectly capable screenwriters like himself out of work in favour of some half-polished, female-focused plotline developed by one of the "insane" feminists that were apparently flooding the scene.

"I tell ya, Rose, women should stick to writing books. It's what y'all best at - leave the screen to the guys."

Rose continued to smile thinly at the man, though her gaze had turned deadly cold. Anyone who knew her well knew not to start complaining about feminism around her, but clearly this buffoon missed the memo on that topic.

She had already opened her mouth to respond when a much older woman suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere. Large round glasses reflected the light cast by chandelier yet still not enough to hide her unnaturally vibrant green eyes. She grinned toothily, throwing her arms around Rose's shoulders.

"Rose! I'm so glad to see you, dear! How have you been? Is the new novel coming along well? Oh, you absolutely MUST come and meet my friend, he'll be so delighted you're here! Excuse us,"

Quickly linking her arm in Rose's, and almost spilling some of her drink in the process, Jade English offered a brusque apology to the screenwriter before pulling Rose away, a pathway seeming to open through the crowd for the pair. Rose, cursing at missing such a golden opportunity to put a repeat offender in his place, allowed herself to be dragged along.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, Ms English, but your timing is impeccable as ever. That one in particular is constantly complaining about the rise of women in media, and I don't know how many more of these oh-so-illustrious social events I can continue attending without expressing my true feelings."

"Never mind about that," English waved a hand flippantly, "He won't be attending any more of these; you're not the first person to raise a complaint. Besides, causing a scene with him will have caused irreparable damage to an alliance that needs to be damage-free. Rose, this is Dave Strider,"

English had dragged her to stand before a male in a plain black suit, with blonde hair styled neatly. As he turned to them, she realised he was wearing a pair of aviator shades, and almost snorted to herself. What was up with this guy? Did he really think so highly of himself that he would seriously wear shades not only indoors, but also at night?

That stoic expression. That relaxed stance. He was, in fact, more underdressed for this event than herself - she in a short-sleeved blouse and skirt, he in a simple three-piece one might wear to work for a business meeting, and the pair of them surrounded by ballgowns and tuxedos. It was only as she processed this thought that Rose realised he wasn't trying to be fashionable or pretentious - he was comfortable with being himself, didn't buy into all of the consumerism and arrogance of the social elite.

"Miss Lalonde," he remarked, smiling ever so slightly as he caught her hand and briefly pressed his lips to the back of it in a gesture that may as well have been forgotten in the modern age. Rose wasn't entirely swept off her feet, but she was impressed with the man's apparent chivalry, turning his back on the conversation with some other male to devote his full attention to the two women before him.

"Jade has told me enough about you that I don't even need to read your biography," he remarked, giving a small smirk to English before turning his attention back to Rose. "She's also told me that you don't like certain baked goods."

Ah. So this was how they knew each other. Briefly, Rose wondered if this was Jade's attempt at matchmaking - after all, they appeared to be the only two people in the room who didn't care about the illustrious event they were attending. And, she couldn't deny, he was strikingly handsome with a figure that appeared to boast some years of hard physical effort hidden beneath that suit (the part of her mind already feeling the effects of the alcohol wondered if he truly was as sculpted as she perceived), and his neatly-styled hair and tailored suit indicated he was aware of fashion trends enough to know what was always stylish.

They spoke for a while, first about her books - she hadn't anticipated anyone at a film festival gala to be so interested in the written arts beyond screenplay, but he had persisted with questions. Then they had discussed his interest in filmmaking; he had begun as a camera operator, worked his way into the production team for a few relatively major films - she noticed that he couldn't resist name-dropping the leading ladies he had worked with, but it seemed to be an unconscious habit more than an attempt to cause her jealousy. Now, he was working relentlessly to develop the comics he had drawn as a teenager into a film or two.

It was somewhere around Rose's fifth (or was it sixth?) vodka martini that they tentatively approached the topic of the Batterwitch. Rose was more than happy, given her state, to describe the various jabs at CrockerCorp's Empress, and Dave quickly explained several of the references he intended to leave within his film. Maybe the people would wake up, though given how eager they were to conform, it was doubtful.

Somewhere around Rose's tenth or twelfth drink was when her motor skills became so impaired that Dave insisted on driving her back to her hotel - not only providing her a safe escape from total social humiliation, but also providing himself with an excuse to leave the event. He didn't drink, and had driven himself there, so it was a simple case of the valet bringing the car around and Dave trying to quiz the name of her hotel from her.

Of course, Rose was having none of that. Mainly because she was on the verge of passing out into an alcohol-fuelled coma and the idea of waking up curled next to a toilet bowl once more was not appealing to her in the slightest.

They ended up at the apartment Dave was renting, devouring pizza while (ironically, Dave insisted) watching some godawful romantic comedy featuring Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn, Rose curled up next to Dave on the couch with a bottle of water. She flirted at him tentatively, to test the waters during the breaks, or when they changed to another movie, but he didn't seem to even realise.

Maybe Jade had the right idea with this guy. He seemed like a gentleman, and absolutely disinterested in her romantically, as had all the other males she had ever pursued. Sometimes she wondered if her pursuit of difficult bachelors was indicative of some sort of disorder, but she was pulling blanks every time she tried to think of which mental disorder could manifest those types of symptoms.

To his credit, he barely even moved when she shifted closer, and she didn't even catch a hint of a blink when she lay her head on his shoulder, or when she shifted so that she was almost hugging him, putting his arm around her shoulders almost as if the action was subconscious. She wondered how many girls he had been with, less curiosity as the second wave of inebriation hit, and more out of concern for just how difficult it would be to impress him. Well, she was no movie starlet for sure, but she was comfortable enough in her own form to feel confident.

They were onto Cleopatra when she shifted, sitting up properly as the remnants of the alcohol took over her tired mind, playing on the hormones that she usually refused to acknowledge. The hand that had obediently remained in her lap now rose up, tracing a muscular abdomen shielded from her touch only by a thin layer of cotton, twisting his tie around her hand as she shifted to sit up, as he turned his shade-covered gaze on her.

"Rose, what are you doing?"

Still holding his tie, she reached up with her other hand, pulling his shades away. He half-heartedly tried to pull back, but it had no effect and she gently set the shades on the back of the couch, fingers returning to trace his jawline.

"Kiss me, Dave,"

"Wha--? NO!"

She tugged on his tie, pulling him closer, but he raised a hand just in time, covering her mouth before she forced them together. Startled by this, Rose let go of the tie and he reeled back, stumbling away from the couch as she fell back. At least she had broken that stiff, uncaring facade.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, taking another step back, "There were over a hundred other dudes at that gala and out of all of them, you tried-- ugh, I can't even put it into words!"

"Fine, I'm sorry for being attracted to you," Rose rolled her eyes, not bothering to sit up, "Next time, I'll do my best to control my raging feminine hormones. After all, a woman who goes for what she likes is not what we want in our perfect, patriarchal society, is it?"

Oh god, now the politics. Sober Rose had apparently been locked away for the night, and now she was at the mercy of her drunk self.

"What? No, that's not what this is!" Dave cried, "You can't be attracted to me, either. That's more messed up than the healthcare system. Jesus, Rose, get a hold of yourself!"

"What, it's messed up for a single woman to be attracted to an apparently single man? Do you know how--"

"You're my goddamned sister! That's why it's messed up!"

Rose stopped as his words hit her, sinking in so fast they flushed away whatever alcohol was left in her system and bringing her to a sobering reality. Slowly, she sat up on the couch and looked up at Dave, mouth hanging slightly open. The revelation was so shocking to her, yet made so much sense. Jade had never even remotely attempted to match Rose up with anyone, had only ever introduced her to other Batterwitch protestors so that they could further their rebellion. How could she have even thought, even for a second...

Something in her expression must have shown, because Dave visibly relaxed, exhaling as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Jade never told you, did she?"

Rose shook her head. She was his sister. They'd even discussed their rare genetic deformity, the eye colours. And she had been too wrapped up in hormones to realise what it all meant. She had mistaken his interest as attraction, his concern as indication of romantic feelings.

Dave sat on the couch beside her, looking like he had just been told off for some childish prank.

"How much do you know about a game called SBURB?" he asked. Rose sighed heavily.

"Not all that much. It invites the apocalypse to the homeworld of anyone who plays it, apparently."

"Not exactly," Dave replied, "The apocalypse will happen, sure. And the game directly links to that. But it doesn't cause the apocalypse itself - the apocalypse was already happening. The game gives a few people a chance of survival..."

[klatukattdreams]

Vaughn/August reverse bang

My fic for @pastelyanpan fabulous drawing for the @borderlandsbigbang reverse bang!

“Uh, boss? You got an echo message.”

“Thanks, Sam,” said Vaughn, still focused on his rewiring project. “Who’s it from? Rhys? Sasha?”

“Someone named August.”

Vaughn looked up into Sam’s nervous face. Sam was one of the older generation of Hyperions who functioned better in a corporate setting and hadn’t adjusted well to life planet-side, so she had gotten the job of assistant. Vaughn thought her nervousness was a holdover from former bosses and their misplaced anger, but there was more to it.

“Yeah, it wasn’t in code or anything and it addresses you directly and it was sent over a wide band so it is really suspicious—” Sam was rambling and Vaughn put up a hand to stop her.

“Just play me the message.”

The speaker in Sam’s hand screeched with static before a familiar voice resolved itself. “…know you’re out there Vaughn, I know where you hide out, but this time you need to come to me. It’s August, by the way, and I got in some stupid trouble. I’m only asking for a place to stay. I know you hate me as much as I hate you but,” August’s voice suddenly became labored, “if you save this fake I’ll owe you one. Hell, I’ll owe you ten million. I’m at Howe’s Pit. You better come find me before anyone ELSE can.”

“It is strangely straightforward,” Sam commented.

“No no, there is one little code in there, meant just for me.” Vaughn kept talking but only to himself. “Which means it’s not a trap. Howe’s Pit is pretty close so he could have just come straight here which he only wouldn’t do if he was being tracked and didn’t want them following, then he contacted me because he knows I’m the only person with empathy on this planet – arrgh! Why me?” He looked back at Sam. “When did we receive this?”

“About five minutes ago.”

Vaughn sighed. “Then I’d better suit up quick if I’m gonna rescue this guy.”

Howe’s Pit was named for two reasons: because it was a pit stop for fixing and modifying any shitty vehicle you could scrape up, and also it was located in a large, deep crater. The high walls gave excellent protection from Pandora’s harsh climate as well as low visibility for the native predators. There were even a few buildings, though most of the crater was open, aside from canopies, to accommodate the ever shifting piles of car parts and equipment.

Vaughn had been to this place before and his team’s heavily modded car zig-zagged through the assembly without incident. It was a generally safe town as the population was more obsessed with cars than money. Glancing around he could see a few shrines to Scooter, the famed mechanic, who Fiona and Rhys had talked about with great feeling.

If August was injured, which was more than likely, he wouldn’t be out here in the grease, he’d be in one of the two buildings, probably one where he could get privacy and a drink. They parked outside a building marked simply BAR and Vaughn hopped down.

“Sweet rig you got there. Looking for more upgrades?” This salesman had appeared out of nowhere and loomed over Vaughn in a manner that was friendly, for now. Almost everyone on this planet was taller than Vaughn and he gave his usual comeback of the Silent Staredown, which would not have menacing except for the expressionless helmet that covered Vaughn’s face specifically for this purpose. “Okay, okay, I get it, but if you ever are looking come find Eugene, that’s me.”

Vaughn shrugged a shoulder and two of his crew followed him inside. He got his sights on who looked like they were running the place and hoped his voice modulator wouldn’t fail.

“I’m looking for August.”

“That guy?” The owner jerked his head to the side. “Bathroom. That way. Do me a favor and take the corpse with you. I got enough to clean up. This isn’t a bandit camp.”

Vaughn nodded and signaled that the other two should go wait by the car. He headed down the hall cautiously hoping the August wouldn’t shoot him first. Easing the door open with his foot he saw August quickly raise a gun from his slumped position against the sink. Slowly Vaughn raised his empty hand and formed it into the shape of a finger gun.

August relaxed. “I knew you would find me, nerd.” He tried to laugh but instead doubled over in pain.

Vaughn closed the door and took off his helmet. “What happened to you?” He helped August up to a seated position on the toilet and sat next to him on the edge of the tub. August’s midsection was poorly wrapped with bandages, probably self-applied, and while this room wasn’t the cleanest it was better than a lot of places for cleaning out wounds.

“A couple bastards wanted my organs, all because of a stupid bet.” August threw a couple more bloody rags in the sink in an attempt to clean up. “They tried to cut me open like a pair of freeking psychos. I thought this was supposed to be a calm town.” He groaned in pain again.

“Have you had any medical training?” Vaughn sighed. “Here, let me try and fix up your wound because that whole thing looks like a mess.”

“Ooh, you got a healing kit you can just stab in me?”

“No, but I do have an old school first aid kit.” Vaughn slid the slender pack out from its holster in his vest. “You may have missed it last time you were there, but the Children of Helios don’t have a lot of money.”

“Fine, sorry. Do what you gotta do.”

Vaughn opened the pack, slipped on some gloves and started working on cutting away the mass of blood-soaked bandages. “What happened to you? You had a pretty good thing going last time we met.”

“Yeah, well, after Vallory— after my mom died the gang split apart into different factions, as what normally happens here on Pandora, and all alliances went out the window. I thought I’d be all right. I had my bar and my business, but some of the old crew thought they could run it better and kicked me out of my own place. They could have done worse— ow! What the hell was that?”

“I’m sterilizing it. I need you to hold still for this next part.” Vaughn pulled out a tube of what was basically thick glue.

“Dang, when did you become a fancy frontier doctor?”

“College.”

“What?”

“Well… you know Rhys. Back in college he really tried to do the tough guy thing. He came back to the dorm beat up and bleeding more times than I can count. So, I got good at patching him up.”

“Heh, sounds like true love.”

“Yeah, well, it was only one sided,” Vaughn said bluntly.

“Huh. You gay for the guy?”

“Rhys is my best friend, and I learned a long time ago it was never going to be anything more than that.”

“That’s rough, especially since he treats you more like a lackey than a friend.”

Vaughn stopped, not expecting empathy from a guy like August. “Well, yeah, he does tend to do his own thing…” He didn’t want to think about Rhys and instead focused on smoothing down the medical tape on the abdomen of this rugged, muscular bandit.

“Okay!” Vaughn pulled away suddenly and started quickly packing up the first aid kit. “I saved your life like you asked. You can pay me back next time, whenever the hell that will be.”

“Vaughn wait,” August’s voice was pleading, “take me with you. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“August, I’m running a new kind of city. Believe me when I say there is no place for someone like you there.”

“Oh because you know me so well? You sure you don’t want to get to know me a little better?” August stood up slowly, partially because of his injury, partially to show off his well-maintained body.

“Are you seriously flirting with me right now?”

“Hey, I don’t have anything else to bargain with.” He gave a subtle shrug and Vaughn could tell exactly what he was doing.

“Urrg, why do I keep picking up strays?” Vaughn buried his face in his hands for a couple seconds before looking up. “Okay. But only because you look pathetic right now, AND you have to do exactly what I say.”

As Vaughn strapped the first aid kit back into his vest August collected his few items that he owned.

“Okay, we’re gonna walk you out of here like a prisoner. Tie your shirt around your head.”

“What? No! Why would that even be an option?”

“I don’t want anyone seeing your face,” said Vaughn sternly. “Look, you’re gonna have to trust me, okay?”

August grumbled but did as he was told. Vaughn put on his helmet and carefully grabbed August’s arms, pulling them behind his back. August barely flinched at the touch and played a good captive as Vaughn marched him out the front and into the back of his car. They sped off quickly and easily out of the crater and back to their secret hideout while Vaughn pondered what to do with this new asset.

"Can you get this thing off my head now?"

"Oh yeah, sure." Vaughn untied the makeshift bag and August squeezed back into his shirt, somewhat painfully in the cramped vehicle.

"So, you taking me on board? Making me part of the commune?"

" I haven't decided yet. By the way, can I see your Echo?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." Vaughn through the communication device straight out the window.

"What'd you do that for!"

"Technically, you are a prisoner, and we are really touchy about outside tech. That's how we stay hidden."

August folded his arms but was not nearly as grumpy as Vaughn suspected he would be.

Back at camp Vaughn hustled August back to his office before too many people could see the newcomer and start to worry.

Unfortunately, waiting for Vaughn was the most worrisome person he could have run into.

"Oh good, you're back." Sam had a stack of papers with her. "I was worried -- IS THAT A BANDIT?"

"Yes and no." Vaughn had given up hope of keeping this on the down low. "For now he is a friend."

"More like boyfriend." August draped his arm over Vaughn's shoulders and stared at Sam with a slightly menacing smile. Sam looked appropriately aghast.

Vaughn kept his voice calm. "Sam, could you excuse us for a moment." Once his assistant was gone he drew in a deep breath for a very short question: "Why?"

"I gotta establish a foothold somehow, since this place don't run on money or violence. She looked like the type to spread rumors and since these people worship you I should be a juicy piece of gossip."

"First of all, they don't worship me, they worship Rhys. I'm more of an administrative... leader... person-- and SECOND of all, you are a lying, manipulative bastard!"

“Yep. That’s how I survive. Since I am already seriously indebted to you I need at least one little bargaining chip.”

“So this is how it’s gonna be?”

“Well, this is how it starts. Who knows how our relationship will progress from here.”

Vaughn had to stop and switch gears. “You are flirting with me again, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I got nothing to lose and no one to impress except this little cult of yours.”

“It’s not a cult— Look. It’s not going to happen. I could never trust you enough to have a ‘relationship’ of any kind except hostage.”

August opened his mouth to object and then closed it.

“I have all the power here which means I also have all the responsibility, so while I try to find someplace for you to fit could you please just keep your mouth shut and not create any new problems for me? Please?”

“Whatever you say, boss.” August managed to hide his smirk. Authority looked good on Vaughn, really good.

[mikelaarts]

Am I Gonna Be Your One?

Summary:  Long black suit    Sleek black mask    They’re so sweet    With their get back stare

Inspired by the song “Are You Gonna Be My Girl?”

Words: 3002

Pairing: Rhys x Zer0

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Mentions of Abusive Relationship

Read On Ao3

“Why is there so much singing going on tonight?” Rhys looked up from his work, finally noticing his surroundings making Fiona let out a long groan. They were sat in the corner of Moxxi’s bar, the usually crowded place flooded with people. There was a makeshift stage set up near the back entrance where some would perform a song or play an instrument. Occasionally Moxxi would switch out the singers or players for different people, each one handing her various bills.

“Like I said when we sat down, Moxxi is having a little competition tonight. If you perform a good enough song you get to take one of the vault hunters out for the night. You gotta pay fifty per person to compete though, and I’m pretty sure the hunters are getting paid for this too. Lucky bastards are gonna make a fortune with the talent we have tonight.” Fiona watched as a singer received a chair to the head after his god awful singing.

“Why aren’t you over there Fiona? Aren’t you a vault hunter?” Fiona turned red at Rhys’ question, looking away from the table. Sasha slid into the booth with another round of rakk ale.

“She’s not over there because it’s a little intimidating don’t you think? I mean these guys are like the real thing, everybody knows them. There’s Zer0, Brick, Lilith, Mordecai, Maya, Gaige, Salvador, Axton, hell even Krieg is there.” Sasha continued talking, not realizing that Rhys had completely zoned out after hearing the first name she said. Zer0. Zer0 was here, in this room, waiting to be won as a date. A date. He could date Zer0. Zer0. Unfortunately his brain had short circuited after that revelation and failed to inform him that he also had to win a singing contest in order to date Zer0. Hand under his chin, Rhys stared at the wall of the bar, living in one of his many fantasies of how it’d be to date Zer0. He was just about to kiss his knight in shining armor when someone knocked the arm from under him, making him kiss the table instead.

“Hey! What gives!” Rhys glared daggers at Fiona as she laughed loudly, high-fiving her sister.

“Vaughn was talking to you, you dingus! Why does your face look like that anyways? Are you daydreaming about Claptrap again?” Fiona smirked towards him, taking a large swig of her drink.

“Wha- First of all I do not dream about that psychotic little robot!” The table fell into a fit of giggles as Rhys huffed loudly, crossing his arms. Once the table calmed down Vaughn spoke once again.

“I was saying we should join the competition, we could easily beat everyone here!” Rhys sucked in a deep breath, already feeling the pressure start to build in his throat.

“Hey yeah you’re right! I can’t play any instruments really but Fiona knows how to play the drums! Please tell me you guys have some hidden talent Vaughn.” Sasha leaned over the table enthusiastically, shaking their drinks slightly.

“You’re in luck cause we do! Rhys can play the guitar and the man has some vocals! We actually had a band back in high school up until our first year of college.” Vaughn was leaning into the table now too, the air buzzing with their excitement.

“Oh my god we can totally do this! You can get your date with Axton, Sasha can get a date with- er whoever she wants, I can get Maya and Rhys can finally live in the billion fantasies he’s had of Zer0, isn’t that right Rhys! ….Rhys?” Fiona turned to her friend, noticing that the man hadn’t spoken a word during the entire exchange. Rhys stared at them, his hands tightly clamped together as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“I-I can’t guys. I’m sorry.” Vaughn and Sasha’s faces instantly fell as Fiona grimaced.

“And why exactly not?” Fiona stared at Rhys expectantly, waiting on the excuse he was coming up with. Rhys cursed her inside his head, knowing that his friend just wanted to help him but she never knew when to quit.

“…..My singing voice isn’t that good.” Rhys flinched as Vaughn slammed down his drink, standing up in his chair.

“What on earth are you talking about?! Your voice is amazing! Why would you eve- Oh, it was Jack wasn’t it.” Vaughn sat back in his seat, a knowing frown on his face. Rhys shut his eyes briefly, not wanting to see the pity in his friend’s eyes. They wouldn’t force him to tell them what happened. They wouldn’t want him to remember the torture he had to endure with Jack.

Pumpkin if I wanted to hear the equivalent of cats fucking while scratching a chalkboard I would go out and kill something. Stop singing for me will ya?

Sweetheart I’ve told you before, you are so much cuter when you just keep your mouth shut.

Rhysie baby, I wouldn’t have hit you if you would have just stopped the first time. See what you made me do? I don’t like hurting you baby, you know that.

Since you like to sing so much how about I keep you locked in a cage? Would you like to be my little songbird Rhysie? No? Then shut the fuck up.

Really kiddo this is all your fault. I warned you didn’t I? I’ll come let you out in an hour if I remember, think about what you did.

The air was thick now with unspoken tension, only being filled with the bar chatter and occasional singer or band. Rhys looked over the bar, watching as more people signed up for the contest, Moxxi slipping the money into her cleavage. He turned his head towards Claptrap next, watching as the robot….danced with the radio. He quickly wiped that image from his brain as he looked over to the vault hunter’s table. They were occasionally watching the shows but mainly chatting with each other, clinking their drinks as they laughed loudly. His eyes caught on Zer0 and he watched the alien for only a moment before their head snapped towards him. Rhys sucked in a breath as he was noticed but the vault hunter only raised his hand in a small wave, shooting him a “:D”on his mask. Rhys gave a small crooked smile, waving his hand back at the hunter before turning back to his friends. He didn’t see how the other hunters began to tease the alien, nudging his shoulders and clinking his glass with vigor.

“Oh my god, you can hate me later but we’re doing this. Right now.” Fiona stood up, grabbing Rhys by the arm and dragging him out the booth. Sasha quickly gave Moxxi the money as Vaughn got their instruments together, obviously excited. Rhys gave some protests as Vaughn draped a guitar over his shoulders, putting on his own bass.

“Wait we don’t even know what song we’re playing!”

“‘Are you gonna be my girl’ and you’re dedicating it to Zer0.” Rhys tripped over his words slightly at Fiona’s statement.

“T-The lyrics won’t match up though!”

“Just change them bro, you used to do it in high school all the time.” Vaughn shot his friend an apologetic smile as Fiona got on the drums, her sticks in hand.

“Guys we can’t do this! We haven’t rehearsed, we haven’t thought it through, Sasha doesn’t even know how to play an instrument!”

“Just roll with it Rhys! I can at least play the tambourine part!” Sasha gave him a huge grin as she grabbed the mic briefly, “This song is dedicated to Zer0 from my good friend Rhys!” Rhys watched with dread as the Hunters all turned towards them along with the rest of the bar. Afterall, no one had been brave enough to dedicate a song all night. Sasha pushed the microphone back into place and took her spot. The three friends looked at each other, wondering how this night would end.

Sasha bit her lip as she started the song, watching Rhys carefully. After a few seconds Fiona and Vaughn joined her with their notes, looking towards Rhys as his part came up. The man was still frozen in place, the guitar limp in his hands as he stared dumbfounded at the hunters. The friends were suddenly regretting their decision to perform. Sometimes it was good to push Rhys into things that his anxiety would usually stop him from doing but other times they overloaded him, making him breakdown. If they caused Rhys to have an attack on stage he’d never forgive them, not that they would forgive themselves either. As they neared Rhys’s part they began to frown, getting ready to save the man from embarrassment.

Before Sasha could move Rhys gripped the guitar tightly, taking a deep breath. He strummed the chords when his part came in, leaning into the mic as he screamed “Go!” Smiles broke out across the groups faces as the crowd began to cheer them on as they all played.

So one, two, three, take my hand and come with me

Because you look so fine

That I really wanna make you mine

I say you look so fine

That I really wanna make you mine

Rhys fought against the dread in his throat as the crowd clapped along to their beat. There wasn’t a Jack in his life anymore, he didn’t have to worry about being trapped. No, he was only worried about one person’s opinion and he had their full attention.

Oh, four, five, six c'mon and get your kicks

Now you don’t need that money

When you look like that, do ya honey

Rhys pulled in every last amount of his old college confidence and sent a wink towards the table, smiling a little as Axton shook Zer0 by the shoulder.

Long black suit

Sleek black mask

They’re so sweet

With their get back stare

Rhys was sure that now his face matched the same shade of a tomato. The wink was a little much but now he had the lyrics perfectly matching Zer0. Facing the alien after this was going to kill him.

Well I could see

You home with me

But you are out of my league, yeah!

I know you

Ain’t got much to say

Before I let you get away, yeah!

I said, am I gonna be your one?

Well, so 1,2,3, take my hand and come with me

because you look so fine

and i really wanna make you mine.

I say you look so fine

that I really wanna make you mine.

Rhys mentally high-fived himself as he had yet to stumble over his words or miss a chord despite the fact that it had been years since he performed. The bar was completely engrossed in their performance as it was the first one to have a full musical set and actual good vocals. Somehow at some point Vaughn had lost his shirt and was back to back with Sasha as they bounced to the music. He smiled at his friends as he continued to sing through the song.

Oh, 4,5,6 c'mon and get your kicks

now you don’t need that money

with a face like that, do ya.

Long black suit

Sleek black mask

They’re so sweet

With their get back stare

Well I could see

You home with me

But you are out of my league, yeah!

I know you

Ain’t got much to say

Before I let you get away, yeah!

I said, am I gonna be your one?

Sasha led the bar into clapping along to the beat while Fiona smashed at the drums with such force that Rhys was sure it was going to break. Rhys smiled towards the hunters again as he went into his small solo before singing into the mic with renewed courage.

Oh yea. Oh yea. C'mon!

I could see,

you home with me,

but you were out of my league, yeah!

I know you,

ain’t got much to say,

before I let you get away, yea!

Uh, I’m the one.

I’m the one.

Am I gonna be your one?! Yea

The crowd cheered loudly for the group as they finished the song. The others instantly began cheering for themselves, already knowing that they had for sure won the contest. Rhys on the other hand was slowly beginning to realize what he had done. The lyrics of the song were coming on strong and they were very bold. Worst of all, Zer0 hadn’t taken their eyes off of Rhys once during the whole performance. But then again, Rhys hadn’t taken his off of Zer0 either. He was snapped from their little staring contest as Vaughn slapped him in the back, nearly sending him to the floor. He was going to have to talk to his friend about his strength again later, but for now he could celebrate with them.

“Well I haven’t heard a good performance like that until I shot my first-”

“Uh we’ll just take the prize!” Vaughn cut Moxxi off before she could slip into one of her innuendos. She huffed at the man calling him a buzzkill before leading them over to the hunter’s table. The hunters gave them a small toast as they sat with them at their already cramped table.

“Wow! I haven’t heard someone sing like that in forever! Are you sure Atlas is your calling?” Rhys laughed nervously at Lilith’s question, sitting on the very edge of the table next to Vaughn.

“I rather like working with the guns actually. In fact I’m working on a sniper rifle right now that could somehow ice the opponents in place-” The table let out a groan, Rhys being well known for talking about his guns for hours.

“Nope nope, we ain’t hearing all that. Come sit next to the bastard that’s been eye-fucking you all ni-GHT.” Axton’s voice rose a few octaves, the man whipping his head towards Zer0, staring him down, the alien staring back at the man in challenge. Before anything else could happen, Maya stood, pointing at both of them.

“No we are not having a duel here again. Nope, shut it. I don’t care if he stabbed your thigh, you started it.” Axton grumbled as he stood from his chair, walking towards Rhys’ spot, a small black kunai sticking out his leg.

“Switch with me, I’m not sitting next to Mr. Grumpy Pants over there.” Rhys opened his mouth to decline the offer but one pleading look from Vaughn had him getting up and walking over to the other chair. He gave himself a pep talk on the way over, after all it wasn’t like it was any day he got to sit next to the crush he’s had for almost a year. And it’s not like he just sang a song to them basically begging them to date him. No, it’s cool, it’s fine, it’s fine. Rhys sat in the chair quietly, watching as Vaughn offered to help Axton with his injury.

“An ice-sniper huh?/ I could have some use for that,/ Care to explain more?” Rhys perked up at Zer0’s words before launching into an animated conversation of how it would be just like any other elemental weapon except for it would freeze the enemy to the spot to make shooting easier.

“What about headshots?/” Zer0 tilted their head to the side with a bright ���?’ shining on their mask.

“Some enemies don’t die when you shoot them in the head because of shields or because of other things like Goliaths. This makes it so that you can keep them in place for a second shot. If I utilize a liquid inside of the bullets to explode upon contact with the bodies it should work, but I would need a liquid that would automatically freeze upon coming in contact with oxygen. I could use Mercury because it freezes at room temperature but that would require the gun to remain hot in order for the bullets not to freeze themselves.” Rhys paused in his speaking for a moment, thinking long before launching into another tangent. Zer0 nodded along to him, listening intently as the man spoke.

“As much as you two are cute together you’ve been talking for four hours straight and I’m trying to shut down my bar so I can get some sleep. Would you be dolls and leave?” Moxxi tapped her foot impatiently, already changed into her night clothes. Rhys rose his eyebrows as he looked around the table, having not even noticed when the others left. He apologized to Moxxi and quickly paid his tab before walking out the door, alongside Zer0.

   “Well um, I guess this counts as a date huh? I’ll see you around sometime Zer0.” Rhys turned away to walk off, stopping only when Zer0 grabbed his arm.

   “Aren’t we going to your house?/ Or did I misread?” For one small moment Rhys could swear that his soul had left his body, threw a party in heaven before coming back down and bringing him back to life.

   “No, no you’re not misreading anything! Um we could go to your place if you want or we could head to mine, doesn’t really matter to me honestly, only I haven’t cleaned up because I wasn’t exactly expecting the night to go….like….this…..” Rhys slowed down his blabbering as Zer0 traced the line of his lips with their thumb.

   “Your place sounds just fine./ Can I spend the night with you?/” Rhys could only nod slowly at the request as their hand was now rubbing his cheek softly. A part of him wondered if he’d actually died back in the bar from the trauma of witnessing one of Claptraps pleasures. Another part of him was perfectly fine with it if this was to be his heaven.

   “Let’s go home now, Rhys.” Rhys smiled at Zer0 as he took their hand, leading them towards his Atlas building.

[oodlyenough]

oodlyenough’s completely inexhaustive list of tftbl fic recs

So I mentioned the other day that because I have read Everything in the Borderlands AO3 tag, I was happy to compile a rec list. 

@auraofdawn had specifically asked for Rhys/Sasha and/or gen, but I added some others. I didn’t include any of my own fics, but fwiw I’ve written a number, usually either Rhys/Sasha as the focus or gen with Rhys/Sasha in the background. You can find mine on AO3 under the pen name thirty2flavors.

I wanted to be relatively detailed in the recs, so this is by no means exhaustive even of my personal faves, but it’s a starting point. Here’s a bunch of recs for:

Rhys/Sasha

Gen

Rhys/Fiona

Rhys/Vaughn

WIPs

Rhys/Sasha fics

For Luck by pagerunner 1.4k, teen Author’s summary: Rhys and Sasha share a little private moment before heading off to face the Traveler. Or in other words: Page indulges a few more of her romantic impulses, 'cause these two deserve it. Episode 5 interlude. Notes: I love this author’s stuff and this fic is so damn cute. Great characterization, great prose, adorable missing scene.

Different Worlds by kaletra7 5k, explicit Author summary: She slides the door a little further, and Rhys sees a naked shoulder and then an expanse of fluffy, cream towel. He, very nobly, stops himself from looking too closely, because she’s not holding the towel very tightly and there’s a slit (deliberate or not) that exposes a lot of thigh. There’s something in Sasha’s face that reads like a challenge. Like she’s daring him to approach, the way a predator might wait patiently for its prey to wander curiously into its trap. “Can you come in here for a minute?” Notes:  I honestly usually don’t really care for smut because it all kind of bleeds together and sounds the same, but I really liked this piece precisely because it avoids that by giving them both such vivid characterization and by using this as a way to explore their different backgrounds. Sweet and funny and sexy.

i really really really really really really like you by WoodenDuck 1.6k, teen Author’s summary: and I want you. do you want me? do you want me too? - carly rae jepsen, 2015 Notes: Adorable post-Vault first kiss fic. I think this was the first Rhys/Sasha fic I read? Endearingly awkward and believable dialogue from both of them. Plus: bonus art!

(Sasha Hates) Pet Names by melenafrey 4k, teen Author’s summary: Rhys is intent on finding a pet name for Sasha that the both of them can agree on. Sasha is skeptical that one such pet name even exists. Notes: Funny, fluffy and adorable. I like their teasing relationship in this and it’s always nice to see Rhys/Sasha from Sasha’s perspective. I think this is set in some kind of undefined non-Pandora AU.

Bad Egg by WoodenDuck 5k, teen Author’s summary: Rhys thinks about what he wants to do and who he wants to do it for while rolling around in the garbage and eating fried eggs.  Set during the Episode 3 road trip. Notes: I love episode 3 road trip fic. A sweet and funny excerpt from the getting-to-know-you stage.

Gen fics

The Pieces We Hide by pagerunner 7k, teen Author’s summary: No matter how many tales they may have told during their time in captivity, Rhys and Fiona didn't tell the Stranger--or each other--everything. Now, on the eve of their mission to rescue Gortys, Rhys decides there's a few more things about going back to Atlas that he wants Fiona to know. Notes: This is probably my favourite Borderlands fic full-stop. Love this piece. Fills in canon I wanted filled in, packs an emotional punch, great characterization, and juuust a couple hints of Rhys/Sasha to make me especially psyched. Love it.   Choices and Consequences by pagerunner 5.5k, teen Author’s summary: Rhys might be having second thoughts about getting those ECHO upgrades. And Vaughn might be getting nervous for a whole lot of reasons. It's time for these two to talk it through. Set pre-game, no particular spoilers. Notes: I adore this author’s writing and this is such a good take on Rhys making the questionable decision to get a bunch of cybernetics. Rhys and Vaughn are very well characterized and the prose flows so well.

Interim by MovingPen 2k, general Author’s summary: Raising the Children of Helios was no easy task. Notes: I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about Rhys, Sasha and Fiona after Helios, and not much time thinking about Vaughn, and this fic did it for me. Great character study for Vaughn.

in my skin indigo blue by lucyrne 1.5k, general Author’s summary: Rhys shows off his tattoos to the group to prove that he’s cool. Takes place during the Episode 3 road trip montage. Vaughn isn’t paralyzed because I said so. Implied Rhysha, but mainly a fluffy, comedic gen fic. Notes: Hilarious group shenanigans.

The Pre-Teen’s Guide to Crime by clefairytea 6k, teen Author’s summary: “Fi?” “Mm?” “Are you happy like this?” Fiona turns to look at her, a strange look on her face. As though she’s looking at Sasha for the first time ever, and is surprised by what she sees. “I guess. I mean, I never thought about it. This is just what I am. A smart-alec who steals whatever’s not bolted down." -- Growing up on Pandora is complicated. Growing up on any planet is complicated, but Sasha thinks that most kids don’t grow up forging bank notes and running from the authorities. Notes: I literally haven’t even read this because I took one look and thought “this is going to be good, I am saving it for a rainy day” and uh haven’t gone back yet. (I like to hoard things, alright? My “marked for later” is a mess.) Plus I want to finish my own WIP fic about Sasha and Fiona before reading this  But Sasha and Fiona gen!!! My girls!

Of Choices and Their Repercussions by Banji 7k, mature Author’s summary: Hyperion always gets their property back, no matter what or who it is. Alternate events where the team gets apprehended by Hyperion at the Atlas Facility after assembling Gortys (with allusions to the 'Trust Fiona' outcome). Notes: Oh my god please read the author’s tags, this piece so dark, so much body horror and medical trauma/torture. There’s a lot of body horror in the game that kind of skims by unremarked on and this dives right in there and then some and, uh, nothing gets better. Well-written and super effectively skin-crawlingly horrible, if you’re up for it.

Rhys/Fiona

things you said when you thought i was asleep by gortysproject <1k, general Author’s summary: fiona internalises everything until rhys is asleep. Notes: A good look into Fiona’s head and all the stuff she isn’t saying while she and Rhys are with the Stranger.

Winging It by Claranonn 24k, mature Author’s summary: The Company Man and Con Artist open the Vault of the Traveler thinking their journey together has come to an end. Little do they know just how tied together they're about to become... A series of dialogue-only vignettes exploring Rhys and Fiona's relationship post-game. Notes: I haven’t finished reading this yet, just read a couple chapters before putting it aside to get back to, but the dialogue is funny and I literally can’t think of a ship better suited to “fake married” than Rhys/Fiona. It’s hilarious even to think about. Ready to Suffer, Ready to Hope by meltokio 5k, mature Author’s summary: A collection of complete Rhyiona garbage. Notes: It’s hard to describe but there’s an atmospheric feel to a lot of these that I like a lot. I also like the take on Fiona.

Rhys/Vaughn

Safe as anywhere by queerly_it_is 20k, explicit Author’s summary: Vaughn went through his entire first year and a half of college without going to places like this, except for maybe two or three incredibly awkward attempts to socialise in the first few weeks. He’s been just fine without trying it again since, thanks, but now here he is, for the second night this week, after the two times last week. After whole semesters of literally never leaving the campus. And why? A bright cry of, “You’re here!” flies out from behind the bar once he finally, minus a few compound fractures, reaches the front of the tidal wave of people. The words hit him a split-second before Rhys’ neon grin, and Rhys’ floppy hair, and Rhys’ shirt with the sleeve cut off around his cybernetic arm and the collar stretched down enough to show the beginnings of the tattoos on his chest, the whole handkerchief’s worth of fabric generally clinging obscenely to his body. Right. Notes: The fact that I super enjoyed reading a 20k College AU about a ship that isn’t even my favourite is a good indication of the author’s talent for writing. Really good prose, good characterization, good world-building within the AU, and for once it being a Rhys/Vaughn AU wasn’t an excuse to have no mention of Sasha and Fiona. Hooray!

Taking Back Hope by fleurdeliser, ohnoktcsk, tuesdaysgone    16k, explicit Authors’ summary: The first message comes while he’s in the middle of calibrating the laser on one of his latest guns. He ignores it until he’s done, then straightens, holding out his palm and reading the message that comes up on the holoscreen. ‘Helios remembers and so will you.’ Notes: Rhys/Vaughn is the core relationship here but the whole ensemble shows up and they’re all well written which I really appreciate. Plus kidnapping/rescuing drama, everyone’s fave!

WIPs Down the Skag Hole by ShepardCommander 6.5k, 3 chapters and counting, teen Author’s summary: Rhys and Fiona are gone. Sasha and Vaughn are not. Now the kid sister and the best friend must work together if they ever want to see their sister/friend and best friend/boyfriend(?) ever again and become that which they never thought they would or could-Vault Hunters. Notes: Love this characterization of Sasha in particular, especially immediately after Rhys and Fiona disappear. Action and emotional drama and this fic seems to have gone woefully unnoticed. Should Have Said by spectre_anon 16k, 8 chapters and counting, teen Author’s summary:  He should have told her. Could have, anytime... all those opportunities he's shied away from now far beyond his reach... and here he was, hands tight around Fiona's throat while Sasha shrieked in the background. And he couldn't say anything. Couldn't let them know it wasn't him, couldn't tell them he was sorry, that he screwed up... all he could do was scream in his own head while Jack laughed. (Rhys never told Fiona and Sasha about Jack. Now he's paying the price for that mistake.) Notes: All the melodramatic Jack-takes-over-Rhys drama you could want. This is the kind of scenario that I’m more or less happy we didn’t have in the game but also totally eager to explore in fic, and this iteration was a good one. Obviously, angst and tension and melodrama ahoy. Strong characterization for everyone and I think the author does a good job of making the main cast sympathetic even if they are making some poor decisions. Oh pineapples, what have you done?

Not a Maniac by Mindful Wrath -- this one is officially discontinued 25k, 11 chapters and discontinued, rated as teen but imo probably mature Author’s summary: Rhys had expected consequences for turning down Handsome Jack's offer to rule the universe side-by-side. Just . . . not these consequences. Fiona had expected Rhys to double-cross them. Just . . . not like this. Notes: So this one is officially discontinued and I haven’t even actually finished reading all of it yet because knowing it’s discontinued means I’ve been slowly parcelling it out, but I’ve liked what I’ve read, which is maybe 3/4. This is the, uh, extra dark iteration of the “Jack controlling Rhys” ep 4 scenario, so, angst angst angst, but well-characterized gutwrenching angst. The real stand-out in this fic for me was probably the ways Sasha and Fiona were written; they don’t respond identically to things and I loved them both. Various trigger warnings, check the author’s tags on AO3.

[dragonbagel]

everything is not what it seems

part one: it’s gonna take some time to realize

new rhack fic woo! angsty af. inspired by @bird--butt ‘s ideas.

summary: rhys and jack are kidnapped while doing work on pandora by some weird aliens. real x-files type of shit. but at least they're together, right?

Rhys groaned as the room around him slowly came into view, pale blues and oranges still harsh to his bleary eyes. "Where am I?" he asked groggily, rubbing at his sore jaw. "I think you mean 'where are we’, right pumpkin?" "Jack?" Rhys asked, his relieved jerk of the head sending a jolt of pain down his spine. He tried to massage his neck with his left arm, but his movements felt sloppy and uncoordinated. "Take it easy, kiddo," Jack said, giving Rhys a sympathetic smile. He was laying awkwardly on the floor, his limbs randomly splayed out. Rhys was too, he now realized, the soft feeling of carpet slowly registered against his numb skin. "They knocked us out real good."

"Who?" Rhys squinted, trying to make sense of the strange patterns he could now see swirling across the ceiling. "You don't remember?" Jack chuckled, and Rhys shot him a look. "We were on Pandora looking for Eridian tech, and this giant ship came out of nowhere. Shit was straight out of Star Wars! They tried to capture us, I protected you like a hero, then they brought out a big-ass gun, blah blah blah, and here we are." "Oh." That didn't sound quite right to Rhys, but what did he know? He could barely remember what he'd eaten for breakfast, much less what had happened before being drugged and kidnapped. Besides, an alien abduction (which, now that he thought about it, sounded way too lame for the gravity of the situation) wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to have happened to him. "So what do we do now?" Jack stared at Rhys like he'd just asked what number came after two. "We wait." "We wait?" Rhys repeated, dumbfounded. Jack had been kidnapped a horrifically anxiety-inducing amount of times, so surely he had some sort of tried-and-true escape plan that would get them out of there. "That's-- that's it?" Jack nodded. "Gotta figure out what they want. Plus," he said, grunting as he slowly pushed himself to stand. "They've got this whole sweet-ass setup going on here." Rhys to clumsily stumbled to his feet to his feet after him, finding that Jack was not wrong in any capacity. The room was fairly large, complete with a miniature kitchen, television, and small bathroom. It also had two beds, which made Rhys roll his eyes; were gay aliens not a thing? "I guess it is sort of like a free vacation," Rhys said, offering Jack a smile and a shrug. He wasn't about to go freak out and look like a wimp in front of his boyfriend (and hero). "Hope they've got the Spanish channel," Jack said, already moving to grab the remote. "I don't have time to catch up on my telenovelas again." Rhys laughed, reassuring himself yet again that things were going to be okay. Jack was here. Jack knew what to do. He might as well go along and enjoy himself. His legs still felt jelly-like, so he sank onto the bed closest to him (he didn't flop like a fish, nobody had proof he flopped like a fish). The blankets felt strange yet soft, and he let his eyes slide closed. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until Jack called his name, gesturing excitedly to the television he’d managed to turn on.

“Look! They have ‘Tres Veces Ana’!”

“That’s nice, Jack,” Rhys grumbled, rolling over onto his side. Rhys’ only Spanish knowledge was the colorful vocab he’d picked up from Jack’s dirty talk, and he had no shortage of requests to “please watch a normal English show on Netflix for once instead of Univision I’m begging you.”

“It is,” Jack agreed, plopping down onto the other tiny bed. His eyes were trained on the TV in front of him, but they’d flick over to Rhys every so often.

Rhys didn’t know what to make of it. How the hell was Jack so calm about all this? He’d been nabbed a few times himself, but never kept in anywhere other than a rusty cage or disgusting bandit stronghold. This place was like a goddamn hotel suite, the kind with fancy room service and everything. The whole situation was putting him on edge, and he desperately wanted Jack to do something, anything , to get them out of this mess.

But Rhys was afraid to interrupt the cries of “¡mi hermana!” and “¡traidora!”, afraid to admit to Jack that he was scared and weak and all the other insecurities he kept bottled up and buried deep, deep within himself.

Instead, he opted for a distraction he knew Jack couldn’t refuse. “Is there any food in this place or what?”

Predictable as ever, Jack bounced off the bed and into the kitchen, opening and closing various cupboards in search of sustenance. “Holy shit, pumpkin! You’re never gonna believe this!”

Rhys sat up in excitement, limbs now more under his control as he looked happily at what was probably either ice cream or pizza or maybe even both.

It was ramen.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Rhys groaned, recognizing the bright red packaging that had haunted his nightmares since college.

“Isn’t it great?” Jack laughed, tossing the package to Rhys and hitting him in the chest.

Rhys glowered. The stupid noodles even had the audacity to be shrimp-flavored, which was a whole new level of disgusting. “No, it most definitely is not great.”

That only made Jack laugh harder, since watching Rhys suffer was one of his favorite pastimes. Seriously, that stupid look he got on his face when he tried to look intimidating was comedy gold.

Rhys really was hungry, however, so he finally relented and made the ramen (or, more specifically, made Jack make the ramen). As he slurped down the cringe-worthy meal, he noticed Jack wasn’t eating anything. Which was weird, because Jack was always eating something, even when he was in the middle of killing someone for spilling their coffee on him.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Rhys asked around a mouthful of noodles.

Jack shook his head. “Nah, I ate before these assholes pulled an X-Files move on us.”

Rhys shrugged, although he didn’t really buy the excuse. Maybe Jack was more shaken up than he was letting on.

“Alright, well, you can go back to watching your stupid Spanish shows now. I’m going to sleep.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself, old man.”

Rhys fell back into unconsciousness with the sound of a car crash echoing in his ears.

Stupid fucking telenovelas.

Rhys awoke an indeterminate amount of time later in hopes that the whole ordeal with the ramen and the Spanish channel and, oh yeah, the fucking aliens had been nothing more than a freaky alcohol-induced nightmare. But when he saw the weird pastel color scheme and smooth, doorless walls, he knew this wasn’t over just yet.

He forced himself to sit up, finding Jack dozing in the other bed. He rolled his eyes, then started to boot up his ECHOeye; just because Jack didn’t want to be proactive didn’t mean Rhys couldn’t be. Of course, it was just his luck that the damn thing wasn’t working. He could turn it on, but a scrambled signal burst through his brain like the physical embodiment of loud static and he had to quickly shut it down. His cybernetic arm was just as useless. It still functioned as a regular arm, but none of its capabilities seemed to work beyond that. Which meant no hacking, no calling for help, and no new information. He was back to square one again.

Investigating the room seemed like the next best idea, especially now that the drugs he’d been doped with had mostly worn off. He liked to watch old prison escape movies, okay? It wasn’t the worst hobby one could have (Exhibit A being either Jack’s Univision addiction or Vaughn’s illogical love of going to the gym).

The kitchen was stocked with nothing but ramen and some cans of Diet Pepsi, yet another abomination spitting in the face of god. Couldn’t they at least get some actual food? He’d even settle for a simple cup of coffee, as he could feel a caffeine headache settling in. Rummaging through the few drawers didn’t yield any nail files, scissors, or even spoons that could be used to orchestrate some sort of grand escape.

Sighing and rubbing his temples, he moved on to check out the bathroom. It was literally just that: A toilet and matching sink that looked like they came out of a mid-20th century public school. There wasn’t even a shower; Rhys shuddered at what his hair was going to look like by just the second day. Was it already the second day? The overhead lights hadn’t dimmed since he’d first woken up, and without his ECHOeye or a wall clock to reference, any concept of time was thrown out the window alongside his regimented beauty routine.

He couldn’t find anything else in the room aside from the beds (which were bolted to the floor) and the TV. He supposed the TV would at least keep him from dying from boredom, but he’d lose his mind if he had to watch trashy soap operas in a language he didn’t understand all day. He also didn’t know where the remote was, and he doubted Jack would actually tell him. That would definitely be an argument for later.

Restless, he took to pacing around the small room, counting how many steps it took to go from one end to the other (25) and if he could touch the ceiling if he stood on the bed (the answer was yes). He watched Jack sleep for awhile, a behavior that he didn’t know whether to categorize as creepy or endearing. His mask was on, the synthetic skin slightly lighter than his naturally bronze body; it made him look peaceful, a look which rarely graced his features in consciousness.

It was calming, really, listening to Jack sleep. He was laying on his back, arms at his sides like a corpse, chest slowly rising as he breathed.

Rhys blinked, suddenly snapped out of his pleasant daze. There was a reason he didn’t watch Jack sleep: He snored like a freaking chainsaw, which was the very opposite of calming.

Had the aliens put some sort of miracle in the drugs they’d used to snatch them? If that was the case, Rhys desperately wanted to get his hands on it, willing to pay virtually anything for a bottle so that he didn’t have to sleep with heavy duty earplugs every night. More desperately, however, Rhys wanted to know what the hell was going on. This wasn’t normal. None of it was normal. He needed to talk to Jack, to come up with a plan together.

He gently shook Jack’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him, the gray jacket the captors had forced both of them to wear feeling strange under his touch. Jack nudged his hand away as he opened his eyes with a groan, fixing Rhys with a tired look.

“I was sleeping,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, uh, I know,” Rhys said, his tone nervous. “It was just, y’know, too quiet, and I, well, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Quiet?” Jack repeated, pointing towards the still-running TV.

Rhys shook his head. “You weren’t snoring, and it was weird, and this whole thing is freaking me out and--”

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, holding up his hands in defeat. “Let’s talk, cupcake.”

Rhys sighed in relief, sinking down to sit next to Jack on the bed. “What are we supposed to do?”

“We’re waiting,” Jack said. “I told you that before.”

“But why?” Rhys said with a frown. “Don’t you want to get out of here?”

“I told you, we’re waiting!” Jack hissed, glaring as Rhys flinched. “Can’t you just listen to me for once?”

Rhys bit his lip, not wanting to dig his own grave after pissing off a clearly tired Jack.

“Come on, kitten. Let’s get some rest.”

Rhys sighed and obliged, crawling back over to the other bed as his mind reeled. He was confused, and angry, and hungry, and yeah, he was also feeling pretty hurt. But he couldn’t vocalize any of it, not now. And he definitely couldn’t “get some rest” after what had just happened. So he simply watched Jack lay on his back, not really having moved from before, as he the other man slipped back to sleep.

This time, Jack began to snore.

[rallamajoop]

Hi! Your blog made me interested in The Man from UNCLE. But there is no translation to my language, and I need big motivation to watch it in english. If you don't mind and have free time, could you tell what you like most about this show :)

Tell you what I like most about my current great fannish love? Twist my arm, why don’t you. ;)

Actually, one of the first posts I made about The Man from UNCLE was an extended introduction to the show (it’s in four parts starting here on tumblr, or you can read the whole thing in one place on DW). That’s the long version, though – let’s see if I can’t summarise a little.

How do I love UNCLE, let me count the ways. I love its tongue-in-cheek approach to the spy genre. I love its shameless optimism – from the very idea of a benevolent international espionage organisation, to the guts it took to put a Russian character in a starring role on prime-time US TV at the height of the Cold War – and I love even more that it worked (within 6 months, that same Russian character was the hottest new thing on TV, with a fanbase big enough to make international news). But if you want just the thing I love most, that would be the characters, and their wonderful relationship.

This is the show that all but created the classic odd-couple buddy-cop partnership. You’ve got Illya, the mysterious loner with the bone-dry wit, the agility of a ninja, a disarmingly cute smile and a hidden playful streak a mile wide. You’ve got Napoleon, the obligatory James-Bond style womaniser, with his sharp suits with his martinis – but only if James Bond was suddenly a gentleman who treats women with genuine respect, who’ll back off when he’s not welcome without complaint. I love how they take to their jobs with style and humour. I love watching David McCallum in motion, doing his own stunts like the little ninja badass that he is, and I love watching Robert Vaughn pulling silly expressions with his wonderfully elastic face when things aren’t working out. We are all indebted to the show’s tireless dedication to gratuitous bondage and getting both its stars soaking wet at the least excuse.

They’ve both had to carry episodes solo on occasion, but I don’t think it’s much exaggeration to say that the chemistry between these two losers is absolutely what makes the show click.

Here’s the thing: these two shouldn’t get on. Their outlooks on life, their interests, their nationalities, everything ought to clash – and yet the worst the friction gets is some mutual teasing, a lot of excellent banter, and a running competitive streak that helps keep things fun. They don’t just compliment each other’s skill sets, their teamwork is seamless, their camaraderie all but fathomless, and their partnership so effortless they seem to communicate entire strategies with little more than an exchange of glances. About the only thing that will get either of them to disobey a direct order is if the other’s life is in danger (which it often is – heck, Illya has been captured multiple times purely to get Napoleon’s attention). But at the same time, so much about their relationship is left subtextual or unspoken that there’s no end of unanswered questions leftover, a fandom’s worth of different interpretations of what’s going on under the surface, and a wealth of territory left for ficcers to explore. And then there’s the flirting.

Look, I don’t know exactly how the original 60’s audience would’ve interpreted some of these scenes, but rarely have I needed the double-meaning of the word ‘provocative’ so regularly.

But I think a lot of what keeps me invested is just how happy you can see them making each other, should they ever manage to get that far. As long as the job comes first, marriage and family are permanently off the table, but they do, at least have each other.

If you’re new to the show, one thing to note is there’s no overarching plot and next to no continuity, and not all the episodes are must-watches. The tone and the quality of the scripts varies widely, and everyone you ask will probably have different opinions on which were the good parts (more on that in my extended intro post, if you want to hear more about just what you’re getting into). If you’re going on cold, I’d personally recommend Vulcan, Brain-Killer, Shark, Deadly Games, Project Strigas, King of Knaves, Terbuf and Deadly Decoy as a starters course – if none of those particularly grab you, it may not be for you. If they do, then welcome to the fandom!I could go on about everything else I love about it – I love how women on the show can be innocent and naive, aggressively sexual or even gleefully villainous and are still basically treated as capable human beings worthy of respect. I love how chill and friendly the fandom is, how we’ve still got people who watched the show when it first aired around happily mixing with kids who discovered it last year, and that there are literally decades worth of old fanworks to hunt through. And as anyone who’s seen all my posts on the subject could probably guess, I love how much random old trivia there is to learn about the series, and how there still seems to be new stuff to find in the episodes or buried in old articles, even after the fans have been looking for this many years. Seriously, it’s old, it’s cheesy, the script quality was (highly) variable, the budget was relatively modest, and there are parts that have not aged that well. But it’s fun, and charming, and Robert Vaughn and David McCallum had the sort of chemistry that could carry almost anything with style.