#I did at some point put theatre in with them but then I Remembered and he was the ONE PERSON who really made sense other than Dashi

[hershelwidget]

working on so many projects

tag yourself i'm "swap auuu"

[anyarose011]

December Never Felt So Wrong {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: You didn't want to go anymore; not after what just happened in your room with Angus. Still, you had to. In the end...well, happy birthday, Jesus; sorry your party was so lame.

Part 6 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, in depth discussions of grief, mention of character death.

The song is for you theatre kids; yes, there is a Christmas album of the cast of Hadestown. While I love the original, the one with Reeve Carney and Eva Noblezada hits different. I think this was my favorite one to write so far; especially with the interactions with Mary and Elise. Also, lol, possible interpretation of reader's character having a thing for Elise? Again, it's all up to you, but just wanted to say that. Also, part 3 of not being able to escape being an awkward/moody teenager because it's a fanfiction. Anywho, hope you guys cry, but it'll be worth it :)

Word Count: 6.1k

You dared not look at Angus the whole drive to Miss Crane’s house. Even when getting into the car, you avoided his gaze like Lot did Sodom and Gomorrah. There was no way, after he was more than likely going to kiss you (or you him), could you even acknowledge his existence.

But why did you stop yourself from kissing him?

No matter, as your father drove all of you to Miss Crane’s house, you managed to block out that question which clawed at your mind. The door was unlocked when you four arrived at seven, and you filtered in. The house was still heavily decorated in Christmas paraphernalia like you had seen it days ago when you were with Elise. Yet, with how many people were gathered on just the first floor alone, it almost felt as if you were entering a stranger’s house.

Well…not exactly.

Truth be told, this was neither you nor your father’s first Christmas party with Miss Crane. You went with your mother to only one before she passed, and even though Miss Crane would still hold out invitations for you and your father…neither of you ever went. Elise and her aunt would understand of course, especially in the first years after your mother passed; Christmas is always a complicated time after the death of a loved one.

“You made it!” Miss Crane’s voice of gratitude and her gently clutching your arm broke your thoughts. “Welcome. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”

She had looked at Mary once you nodded with a smile, and Mary mirrored her. “We’re happy to be here. Where should I put these?”

Miss Crane lifted the cover of the brownies Mary was holding at and gasped before taking the tray. “Those I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”

Mary laughed. “Oh, you’re a wicked woman!”

“You have no idea.”

“Certainly a lot of people here!”

Leave it to your father for that to be the first thing he says. Still, Miss Crane took it in stride.

“Yeah, yeah, some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”

She spent her time pointing out all of her family members (some you remembered, most you had no idea who they were), and you were honestly blanking out. Up until you saw a familiar face.

“Elise!” You cheered as if she was your guardian angel. You hadn’t even noticed Angus wandered off to stare at a snow globe until you saw him visibly flinch upon your exclamation.

Your friend laughed as you embraced her. “Nice to see you too.”

“It’s been forever!”

“It’s been two days.”

The adults around you merely chuckled, and once again, it was Miss Crane who spoke up. “This is Angus Tully, he’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise.”

Neither of you had pulled away from each other during this whole introduction and were merely still wrapped in each other’s arms as if it were normal. Still, it did not escape you how, once Elise and Angus’ eyes met, it was as if you weren’t there.

“Niece Elise.” He nodded, smiling. “Nice.”

And it seemed like he felt the same. So, there you were, between them in a strange physical and emotional sense. Of course, you were selfish, so you couldn’t revel in the discomfort for long.

“You must forgive him.” You said to Elise but loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s so simple minded, he finds rhymes to be most intriguing.”

She giggled, shaking her head, and Angus rolled his eyes. “Can you go one night without being mean to me?”

“Fitzwilliam,” you smiled, pulling away from Elise. “you’re asking me not to breathe.”

Your father intervened. “Alright you two; no need to fight when we’ve barely gotten through the door.”

Miss Crane tapped his shoulder, looking back at Elise. “This is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?”

“Ancient Civilizations.” He said.

It seemed like her words fell on deaf ears to you, Elise, and Angus. The way they were looking at each other…how Elise would glance at everyone only for her eyes to land back on Angus, and how it was the same for him too…

Neither of them ever looked at you though; only at each other.

Miss Crane called your name, and then Elise’s. “Why don’t you take Angus to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition? Do you remember?” She asked you.

You were honestly so discombobulated, you could only huff. “Good lord, it’s been years.”

“Oh hush, you remember.” Elise teased. “Come on.”

She led you and Angus down to the basement, and you both followed. It was almost frightening how much whiplash you’d gotten just from taking one step down the stairs and was immediately met with Holly Jolly Christmas and the smell of glue. Several kids, as young as five and as old as eleven, sat down at the tables you sat at only once, creating what they deemed to be works of art.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” Angus chuckled.

It was normal for someone to laugh at it. Hell, you knew he was laughing with it, but this was the most he had been on your nerves all week (for many reasons you were too bothersome to list).

“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties.” Elsie smiled, tilting her head to you. “She was only here once, but I still think the pieces we’ve made should be hung in the National Gallery, don’t you agree?” She said your name.

You put on a smile. “For sure.”

“I think it’s kind of cool.” She said. “There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”

She could study Art History, perfect her French, move to Paris and work as a tour guide in the Louvre. That was a dream she told you she had ever since you were children; but yet there she was, throwing it all away to flirt with a boy she had just met.

One who wasn’t even attractive at that (not the first lie you told yourself that night).

“Picasso’s cool.” Angus immediately said. “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse?”

He attempted to pose like the painting you wish you could see, and it was so dreadful you didn’t know which one was worse; that or him and Elise’s incessant talking about the stupid painting at the stupid Museum of Modern Art in stupid New York City. So, to spare yourself, you immediately ducked into a small table of little girls; something you thought you would do only if you were held at knife point.

Still…they were actually sweet, surprisingly. You all would ramble about meaningless things, which perhaps made it all the more meaningful when you would laugh at the stories they told you; whether it was something tame that happened in kindergarten, or what a third grade girl said to you.

“Boys are stupid.”

You nodded. “That they are. Although, I’ve found that a few of them are nice.”

“I said they’re stupid, not mean.”

“Well, they can be. But again,” you reiterated. “they can be sweet.”

“Not like my daddy.” A six-year-old girl spoke up, drawing on her paper plate with a purple crayon shorter than your temper around some men. “Mama says she ‘put him in the doghouse’. Which is weird, we don’t even have a dog, why would we make a house for him?”

You fought every part of yourself to not laugh. So, you merely smiled politely. “That does seem rather unusual.”

“You talk funny.” One of the older girls said.

“So do you.” Was your reply.

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

You were about to continue the ridiculous chain until you heard Elise laugh. Your head immediately snapped to see how she and Angus were hunched over some paper with their hands completely covered in paint. It was like the aftermath of a car crash; you couldn’t look away no matter how much you knew deep down it would only hurt you to keep watching.

She had that look in her eyes you rarely ever had with boys, and although you were practically on the other side of the room from them, you could cut the tension with a knife if you had one; and proceed to stab yourself like Juliet.

Then, like you knew she would, Elise kissed him.

That’s what made you tear your gaze away, and you took your father’s advice from long ago: once you felt sick, you ran away.

Your chest was constricting by the time you got up the stairs, and you wanted to say it was because of going up them so quickly, but it wasn’t. Hell, it wasn’t fully because of seeing them kiss, it was a little, but there was something else; what, you had no idea.

This was all your own fault anyway; you told her from the start you didn’t like him (you didn’t, what’s made you change?) and that she’d probably like him (they’d be good for each other too; she’s sweet, he’s not, they’d balance each other out).

Taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart, you decided that whatever was weighing on your shoulders, you weren’t going to let it ruin the rest of your night; Angus and Elise be damned. You decided to people watch to soothe our worries and create imaginary stories for each and every person that passed your way; a game you and your mother played whenever you went out.

There was an older man with his wife, both perhaps in their early nineties. They met in Boston by chance, he had grown up there, she was from Wyoming perhaps and wanted to experience a city to the east that wasn’t New York.

A woman just a little older than you sat by herself with a drink in her hand. She told herself and everyone else she’s content with just sitting against the wall, watching the room be full of life, and she genuinely meant it.

Your father…oh! He was talking with Miss Crane, and it seemed to be going well.

So, to give him privacy, you decided to further wander around the house. All seemed well as Christmas carols played throughout the halls, until you reached the kitchen.

There, hunched over in the corner with her shoes off, was Mary Lamb, trembling. You felt your soul leave your body, and your eyes met Danny (you hadn’t even known he was there until you saw him move towards you).

“I…” He began. “Do you want to try to talk to her?”

All you could do was nod, approaching her. “Mary?”

She shook her head, not saying a word. You stood beside her and saw as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Your breath shuttered with hers; you already knew. Even without her having to tell you, you already knew.

“Do…do you want me to get my dad?” You asked meekly.

Mary didn’t say anything. You just looked at Danny and nodded. Turning on your heel, your chest wasn’t constricting, but you felt like there was something rotten within your stomach. Something so rotten only a parasite would find it delicious and decide to eat every part of you.

Which is of course when you would quite literally bump into Angus Tully coming back up from the basement.

“Hey,” he greeted with the biggest smile on his face. “thought you got lost, where-?” Just as he saw your fallen face, his did as well. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling tears spring into your eyes. “Where’s my dad?”

“What happened?” He softened his voice and it only made you want to tear him apart.

Shaking your head, you asked again. “Where is he? I…”

He said your name, repeating his question. “What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you only said. “Mary…”

Angus nodded, not needing anything else. “I’ll go find him.”

You turned back to the kitchen, waiting with bated breath and arms crossed. Your father and Angus came in soon after, seeing Mary the exact same way you saw her over the kitchen counter.

“Mary?” Your father asked gently. “Mary, are you all right?”

“Just leave me alone.” She grumbled.

Danny placed a hand on her back. “Want me to take you home?”

“Back off!” She hissed, turning around. “Back off.”

Your father shut the door as she cried, and you felt shame that you couldn’t even pick your gaze up from the floor while it all happened.

“He’s gone.” She sobbed, and that was all it took for everyone to decide to go home.

Your throat was clogged with emotion the whole time, and you felt bad for asking to say goodbye to Elise as Mary clung to your father and Angus.

“Just make it quick.” Your dad said, and you didn’t even take time to nod, sprinting back to the basement.

It was as if nothing changed, and she smiled up at you once you came down the stairs.

“So?” Her face was all aglow as if you had something good to tell her.

“I…” you swallowed. “We have to go.”

“What?”

“Mary uh, her son…well…” Why couldn’t you just say it?!

Elise nodded. “Oh…I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I’m just sorry we have to go; I was having fun.”

She tilted her head to the side, her gentle smile being a dead giveaway, she knew you were lying. But, to not bring that up, you tried another tactic.

“So…Angus.”

Elise shook her head, laughing. “He’s nice and smart too; I can see why you’re friends with him.”

You cringed. “I wouldn’t really say that.”

She said your name, a little more serious. “I know something’s bothering you. I don’t know if it’s with Mary or Angus, but please just tell me.”

It was a lot of things; not being able to go to Copenhagen, Teddy Kountze and Jason Smith being sorry excuses for men, the damn letters, Angus Tully telling your father about the damn letters, Angus Tully in general, the stupid Christmas party and…and…

“I’m…I’m glad you like him.”

No, it wasn’t that but that’s all your mouth could form.

She nodded. “I do, but now after meeting him in person,” she shrugged. “just a friend. Not even really, I barely know him. I don’t know why you’d think he’d be my type.”

“You kissed him.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean ‘yeah’?!” You cried. “Don’t lie to me and say you didn’t even have the tiniest crush on him.”

“Like how you’re lying to me right now?”

That was uncalled for (in your mind at the time, in actuality, yeah it was called for). “What?”

“I asked you what’s bothering you, but you’re not telling me.” She looked annoyed now, and that was worse than if she was fuming. “Look, unless you like killed someone, it can’t be that bad.”

Swallowing thickly, you took a few moments to try your best to recover yourself. Saying hesitantly. “I…I think I’m being stupid.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t want you to leave me for some dumb boy.”

She stared at you, and you were surprised how quickly she responded despite the astonished look on her face. “First of all, not going to happen-.”

“-You say that now.”

“Let me finish, please. Second of all, you’re not stupid because of that; not for anything, mind you.”

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and leaned against the wall of the basement, Judy Garland singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas in your ears. “I don’t know why I’m making a big deal about it.”

“It’s normal.” She leaned with you. “Half of my friend group back home ditched me to spend more time with their boyfriends. What’s funny is that some of them have a new one every month.”

“It shouldn’t be normal.”

“It shouldn’t,” She shook her head. “and for the record, I meant it’s normal to freak out about it. I want you to know thought that I won’t do that, and you better not either.”

“Never.” You chuckled. “Besides, a boy has to like me first for that to happen.”

Elise grinned as if she was the Chesire Cat from Alice in Wonderland

“What?” You gave her a look.

“I think you should talk to him.”

You already knew who he was, but your heart still stopped. “I…I…him?! Which him?”

 “Just talk to him.”

You stood absolutely still…What the flying fuck were you supposed to do with that information?! Before you could utter another word, Elise hugged you tightly. “Merry Christmas,” she said your name so sweetly before pulling away but still holding you at arm’s length. “if you need anything, just come over; I’ll be here until after News Years.”

All you could do was nod, wishing her a ‘Merry Christmas’ and then having her walk with you up the stairs and out the door. Everyone was waiting for you in the car, and you somberly entered the other side in the back.

“Are you okay, baby?” Mary, to your surprise, was the one to ask.

“Uh huh.” Was your immediate response, nodding.

The rest of the car ride back to Barton was silent, and it began to snow.

It was the second time (two too many) you lied to Mary that winter break; you weren’t fine. You laid awake deep into the night despite the fact you couldn’t hear your father snoring anymore. You not being able to sleep only caused you more stress, which caused you not to sleep.

After tossing and turning for perhaps almost an hour, one thought made you sit up in bed.

You forgot to lay out Christmas cookies and milk.

You also forgot to make the Christmas cookies.

So, not having anything else better to do, you slipped on your shoes, stole your father’s flashlight, and snuck down into the kitchen.

You only needed the flashlight in the darkened halls, because to your surprise, the kitchen was completely illuminated. If that wasn’t enough, you saw Mary sitting at the main counter, smoking a cigarette. You stopped in the doorway, almost hiding behind the corner like you were a little girl again when you first met her.

She glanced at you, not that surprised. “What’re you doing up?”

You pursed your lips. “I wanna make Christmas cookies.”

It was stupid. Even if Santa existed, he wouldn’t bother with a stupid school, so why keep putting out cookies and milk only for you or your father to always be the one eating them and making a joke out of it Christmas morning?

Because why not?

“Okay if I help?” She asked.

A hint of a smile spread upon your lips. “If you don’t mind.”

You and Mary could tie your own aprons, but whenever you cooked together, you liked tying each other’s. You didn’t argue as she told you what ingredients to grab, and soon, after mixing together the wet and dry ingredients, then rolling the dough out, you were placing down several upon several different cookie cutters.

It all seemed well, working with only limited amount of talking but still smiling, and then, the thought that loomed in the back of your mind came forward.

“You alright?” You looked up at her and nodded without saying anything. She sighed, saying your name. “I know you’re not; and I know you weren’t after talking to miss Elise. Now, what is it?”

“Tell her.” your thoughts urged over and over again.

“I…” You sucked in a breath. “Can I ask you something? And you can tell me to fuck off if it’s-.”

“-Hey,” she interrupted. “baby Jesus is being born in half an hour, don’t use that kind of language; but yes, what is it?”

You surprised yourself by laughing briefly, then asking. “What was he like? Like…before I met him?”

Mary looked up, and for a moment you thought she was going to break down again, but she shook her head, returning back to cutting the cookies and placing them on the baking sheet. “Not much different from when you were nine and he was ten.”

“He always teased me for being two years older than me until he realized my birthday was before his,” you smiled. “then he wasn’t so old for a while.”

She nodded. “I think that was the only thing he was competitive at.”

“What was the first thing he wanted to be when he grew up?”

“Fireman.” She answered without having to think.

You grinned. “And what’d you think of that?”

“I knew he’d grow out of it.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What was little Mary like?”

She huffed, a jesting smile on her face and that was enough for you. “Young, in love, could be freer than a bird one moment, and then quiet with her nose in her Bible the next.”

“How’d you meet Curtis’ dad?”

“School,” she peeled the last residue cookie dough off the cookies. “we were in choir together.”

“Wait a minute,” You giggled, picking up one of the sheets of cookies. “you never said you were in choir!”

She took the other one, and you both walked to the preheated oven, and she opened it. “I thought that was obvious when I took you and Curtis to church?”

“We were too busy plugging our little ears.”

“Hey!” She scolded after sliding in her sheet.

“Because of Old Lady Washington!”

“I understand if her singing was like a dying cat, but she was a good woman, God rest her soul. So, you say a prayer for her right now, you nasty, rotten creature.”

Sighing heavily, you take one hand off the tray you were holding to make the sign of the cross, and mouth a prayer.

“That’s better.” Mary nodded. “You want me to put the cookies in for you?”

“I’m a big girl.” You stated proudly, but as you bent down to slide the baking sheet into the oven, you hesitated, feeling the heat already burn your fingers.

You gave it to Mary yet felt no shame doing so.

“You wanna frost them?” She asked, and you both sat down at the table, waiting for them to bake.

“No.” You shook your head. “Too tired.”

“Thank you.” Mary said. “It’s…it’s good to talk about Curtis. I think I miss you both being little the most; don’t tell your dad I said that.”

Chuckling, a memory came to mind; one you thought you would take to your grave but…perhaps it was a good time to share it.

“You know…” you trailed off, a hint of sudden uneasy but joy lacing your insides. “Shit, I’ve never told anyone this before. But…he and I were each other’s first kiss.”

“Oh, I’ve known that.” Mary answered nonchalantly. “It was the first thing he told me when he got home that night.”

“Are you kidding me?!” You laughed.

“Hey,” She said playfully. “keep it down; the men need their beauty sleep.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help your giggling. “I mean, fuck, it meant nothing; we weren’t even teenagers, we just watched it in movies, saw my mom and dad do it like once, so of course we were curious. No, no, you wanna know the best part?” Sudden laughter filled your lungs, and you could barely make a coherent sentence. “I-I had a crush on him from thirteen to fifteen, and he had a crush on me when he was ten until he was, God I don’t actually remember. He enlists months ago, not even a full year, and before he goes that’s when he tells me had liked when we were kids. It-It meant nothing, he just wanted to let me know and-!”

Mary’s hand on yours never grounded you faster. Your whole world stopped, and when you looked at her, seeing her eyes that were both concerned, but not at all shocked, your heart did as well. You dropped your head in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never be.” She squeezed your hand.

“I…” you suddenly lost your voice for a second. “I think I…I think I miss him.”

What a stupid way to say it. Of course you did, you had been ever since your father woke you up in the early morning to let you know. Still…what you knew the whole night, what the most bothersome thing that had been festering within you was:

“He’s really gone.”

“Me too.” She said softly, pulling you into a hug.

You couldn’t cry. You wanted to, God, you wanted to. You teared up this time around, but somehow, despite realizing everything all at once…no cathartic outburst, no weeping and screaming without a care in the world…

Just you and Mary Lamb, holding each other for only God knows how long.

“Oh,” Mary’s voice took you out of the peacefulness, and turned to see what she was looking at. “another one.”

 There, in a white shirt and plaid pajama pants, was Angus Tully; hiding behind the corner just as you did.

“I’m surprised you managed to make your way through the school without bumping into anything.” Mary stole the comment you would’ve made if you weren’t frozen already.

Angus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and smiling. “I’m surprised neither of you heard it. What’re you doing up so late?”

He was looking at you when he asked, and you wanted to take the butter knife off the counter and gouge out his eyes to get him to stop.

Instead, all you said was. “Christmas cookies.”

“Nice.” He nodded, and the kitchen was left in a silence colder than the air outside.

Mary looked in between the both of you, before pursing her lips and untying her apron. “Well, I’m off to bed.”

“But-.” You began.

“-Angus, you’ll help take the cookies out of the oven, won’t you?” She asked him. “Little Jane Bennett’s always been scared of getting burnt.”

“Mary.” You warned, both about exposing your irrational fear, and also leaving you alone.

He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, and you wanted to throw him out an open window. “For sure.”

“Alright,” she sighed in relief, then walking past him to her room. “Merry Christmas you two, and don’t stay up too late.”

“No promises.” Angus joked, turning his head. When he looked back at you, you stood a little taller as if trying to compete with his height. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I actually wanted to tell you-

“-Would you like some hot chocolate?” You sputtered out.

He blinked, taking in your question. “Yeah…yeah that sounds great. I don’t know where they keep the packets-.”

“-No, I’ll make you what my mom made me.”

…Was this your way of telling him you liked him? It could be worse; you could’ve said: ‘You’re so pretty, I want to throw a rock at you.’

Still, he smiled. “Alright then, what do we need?”

Technically, high quality chocolate, but you were at Barton; which would spend its funds on fancy buildings and overpriced textbooks, but not chocolate, which was complete bullshit.

So, the two of you stood over the stove, milk in a saucepan, a small tub of vanilla, salt, half a bag of M&Ms (courtesy of Angus Tully’s payment for waking you up the week before), whipped cream, and a full jar of milk chocolate chips.

“Why are we putting salt into hot chocolate?” He asked as you stirred the milk.

“It enhances the taste, besides, it’s just a pinch. Okay, pour in the chocolate.”

“All of it?”

“No, just…you know, my mom eyeballed it, so just don’t do all of it.”

He nodded, and you moved aside as he poured in half of the jar. You stirred it in as it quickly melted, then poured what you guessed to be a tablespoon of vanilla in. Your stirring was hypnotizing, so of course you zoned out, and didn’t even realize it until Angus brushed your bare arm.

You jumped, gaze immediately snapping to him. “What?”

He gave you a look; not one of annoyance like you expected. Well, there was a hint of that, but you quickly found out it was to mask concern. “I asked you what you thought of the party before Mary.”

“Oh…” you blinked. “Yeah, it was nice.”

Angus nodded. “You ran off at one point, what happened?”

“Bathroom; girl stuff.” You hoped that was enough to throw him off your trail, which it was.

He visibly tensed. “Oh…”

“Yeah.” you dropped your gaze back to the hot chocolate.

The only sound was the whisk hitting the saucepan as you stirred, then pulled it out to let it sit.

“So uh, is that why you’ve been acting weird this whole day?”

You slammed the whisk on the counter. “How fucking dare you!”

He flinched. “What?!”

“Is pissing blood the only good reason why I’d be like this?”

“Well, if I was, I’d be a bit impatient too.”

“You-,” you laughed, exasperated. “you’re a piece of shit.”

He clenched his jaw. “So then why are you upset?”

Avoiding his gaze, you mustered up the only other truth you could tell him. “I can’t find one of my books.”

Angus scoffed. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!” You gritted your teeth. “My dad read it to me all the time as a kid, and I couldn’t find it when packing last week, so I’ve just been-.”

“-Bullshit, it can’t be that good of a book.”

 “Fuck you, it’s The Little Prince!”

“Look,” He hardened his tone. “I’m not buying it. And if it’s not you being a girl that apparently makes you hate me so much today, or really any day of the week, than what is it?”

The egg timer went off with a loud ringing. You quickly shut it off, having to stop yourself from slamming it back on the counter. You took the oven mitts and opened the oven, reaching in for one of the baking sheets.

After placing down that one, you turned to get the other only to see that Angus, with a washcloth in his hand, held the other. He placed the sheet down by yours.

Throwing the oven mitts off, you sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. Once you found an ounce of calmness, you said. “I know you told my dad.”

You didn’t even say what he told him, he already knew. His face fell, and it was the first time you wished it didn’t. You wished he denied it, got angry at you, hell, blame you for it somehow like so many other boys could have.

But he didn’t…he was ashamed.

Angus tucked his hands into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “I…I was worried about you.”

Your heart stammered. “Why?”

“It…” he was confused. “What do you mean ‘why’? Some guy who your family isn’t friends with anymore was telling you to take pictures of yourself-.”

“-That’s none of your business.”

“It was for a while; not now, but that’s why I told your dad.”

You swallowed thickly, the emotion of the party, missing Curtis, and now threatening to fully break you. You shook your head. “I’m not angry at you; I’m…sorry I treated you weirdly, but…I don’t know.”

He took a deep breath. “I get it.”

You were both left in silence once again. You took a spoon out of one of the drawers, preparing yourself to taste test it. Then, to fill the empty air, you asked the only thing on your mind.

“So…Elise.”

He looked at you, then down at the counter. “What about her?”

“She’s sweet.”

“Yeah…yeah, she’s nice.”

“So,” you dragged out the ‘O’, almost having fun with teasing him about a girl as if you didn’t know how he felt about you. “do you like her?”

He furrowed his brow. “What, like, like like her?”

Giggling, you said. “Well yeah, you immature asshole.”

“I’m not immature.” He fired back, trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“And for the record, no, I don’t like her like that.”

You nodded. “Not even when she kissed you?”

His lips thinned into a line, and you never saw a man look more uncomfortable from your own doing (besides when you alluded to him not being able to pleasure a woman only yesterday when he dislocated his arm). “Yeah, even when she kissed me.”

You smiled even though you felt strange. You took the spoon and dipped it into the hot chocolate. “Was that your first?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with you.” You teased, bringing the spoon up to your lips. “You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you realized a pretty girl kissed you.”

“What if I wished it was you?”

You brought the spoon away from your lips instantly; both from how hot it was, and from what he had just admitted.

Immediately, he realized what he said, and stumbled over his words. “I-I uh, shit I didn’t-.”

“-Hot.” You interrupted, your mouth burning. “Yeah, yeah, it’s hot.”

“Oh.” He jumped back. “Uh, do you need water or-?”

“-No, no, I’m fine.” An idea (a horrid and dreadful one) came to mind when you turned off the stove and took the sauce pan off the burner. “Um…do you want to taste it?”

Angus nodded, wanting to do anything but acknowledge what just happened. “Yeah, yeah sure.”

He turned to grab a spare spoon off the counter behind him, but you took his face into your hands and brought your lips to his.

There was a delay in his reaction, but soon, his arms wrapped around you, and he pulled you in impossibly closer. Even if it technically wasn’t either of your first kiss, you acted as if it was; well…perhaps it actually was, at least a real one. It was sloppy, there wasn’t a rhythm (you didn’t even know you needed one to properly kiss apparently), and you were torn between keeping your hands on his face or trailing them through his hair.

Which is why you pulled away as soon as you felt it started. Angus, still with his eyes closed, leaned back into you at the loss, but soon snapped out of it once you backed away, catching your breath.

“Are…” he was catching his too. “are you okay?”

“What?” You asked, almost out of it. “Yeah just, needed to breathe.”

“Yeah-yeah, me too.”

It should’ve been uncomfortable; the most uncomfortable you’ve felt the whole night…but then, after you both could breathe normally, and looked at each other, you started laughing.

“How-how was it?” He asked in between snickers.

Your face hurt from smiling. “My lips are burning.”

“Really?”

“I mean, from the hot chocolate but-.”

“-You’re mean.” He shoved you playfully.

You scoffed. “And you’re just a baby. So, how’d it taste?”

His teasing halted. “…What?”

“The hot chocolate.” You asked innocently. “Did it taste good?”

Still being thrown through a loop, he took a longer time to respond before quite literally shaking himself out of it. “Uh, yeah-yeah. I uh-don’t add anything, it’s good.”

“Nice. Hand me some mugs, top shelf to the right.”

He followed without complaint, and you served up the hot chocolate, then drowning both of them in whipped cream before crushing up the M&Ms and sprinkling them on top.

The cookies were cooled by then, so you shared them as well while drinking your hot chocolate. Just as you spoke with the little girls at your table, you spoke about things that, to anyone else, would be meaningless; stories from childhood, school, books, the list went on. Still, for the first time in many days…it felt like there was no tension of any kind between you.

When all was said and done, you cleaned your dishes, then set out cookies and milk.

“For Santa?” He asked.

“Who else?” You questioned.

And this was when you knew Angus Tully was a good person. Despite the opening for overbearing teasing, and how you wouldn’t have minded it at all, he didn’t do anything of the sort. He simply smiled.

The two of you walked hand in hand back to the infirmary, taking extra care to be quiet. When you were in the doorway of your room, you turned to Angus.

“Merry Christmas.” You grinned, feeling your heart do somersaults the way he looked at you.

“Merry Christmas.” He said back, smiling as he cupped your face and kissed your cheek so tenderly.

Your face could’ve lit up the room once he pulled away you were smiling so much. You both uttered another ‘goodnight’ to each other and made your way to your beds.

You didn’t sleep much that night, but instead of it being from grief, it was from excitement. Excitement of finally letting something good happen to you.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER NINETEEN: DUCK

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, murder mentions

Read after the cut

---

“Family,” says Hannibal. “Let’s return to that subject today.”

You occupy the living room, each in a velvet armchair tilted with intent to replicate the layout of his office, the clever dressing of a theatre set. Attempts to put off this particular session had proved inefficacious, the coercion of your attendance rendering you curt and snappish in demeanor.

Truthfully you’ve been so since this morning, having rolled, coughing and vaguely feverish, from dreams of bodies hung rattling like so many clothes hangers in some subterrestrial den.

Hannibal, as expected, had still seen fit to persist with his agenda, weathering your complaints with a brisk good humour.

Will had made himself scarce sometime before you’d awoken, and has left word that you’re not to expect his return for many days. You yearn for him in all his brittle ferocity, a gabion against his friend’s subtle erosion of your mind as you know it. The early hour, the assault of unwanted conversation: such sly methods of torture will damn you to madness as quick as the murkiest secret.

“I’ve told you about my family,” you say to Hannibal, fingering a loose tuft of angora on your sweater. “Besides, you won’t even let me talk to them.”

“I don’t think that it would be to your benefit for me to do so,” he answers, and makes a gracious pretence of examining his pen.

Had you not extended a hand to Amy there would indeed have been a second call, this you’re clearly meant to understand. Hannibal is not above such trivial warfare, as he makes a continuing point to prove; you might be entertained by so comic a flaw were you not in such dire opposition.

“Maybe it’d be good for me to talk to my family,” you say, smartly. “And how can you know that it wouldn’t be when you barely know anything about them?”

Hannibal smirks, pleased to have cast such irresistible bait.

“Enlighten me, then. Begin with your mother, if you like. A predictable start, but in that simplicity rather less challenging than other avenues.”

You glance about the room as though seeking inspiration from it and find it wanting. Only the window at which the dying autumn presses its face wets the brush of conversation again, that symbol of fleeing dark brick to beyond a reminder that you must play on.

“We fight a lot,” you say. “My mom and me. She always has to be right about everything all the time. Never made a mistake in her life. Never apologises for anything. And if you criticise her— well, just don’t. Plus, she used to hit me when I was little. Nothing crazy, but still. She hit me.

“Then one day I slapped her right back and she never did it again.”

Pausing, you tug the hem of your sweater to your knees, an instinct to cover skin that today is not an inch bare.

“It’s funny,” you say. “She acts like she doesn’t remember any of it now.”

“Those in denial of their misdeeds often excise those shameful moments from the past,” says Hannibal. “It may not even be a conscious decision on her part.”

“It’d almost be better if it was. Then maybe she could own up to it, some day.”

Hannibal’s pen mars a fresh page in his notebook; even were it not upside down you suspect you’d fail to untangle his complicated hand.

“Has your mother’s behaviour caused friction surrounding your anorexia?” he asks.

“God, yeah,” you say, half laughing. “She used to yell at me. Tried to bully me into eating. Now she cries a lot and kind of makes it all about her. She loves me, but not in the ways you want in a mother. She pays for stuff. Drives me to places. Ticks all those boxes, you know? But she’s never been kind or comforting, really.

“It’s not all her fault. I guess she just doesn’t know how.”

A leaf falls against a windowpane like the hand of a dead, withered child, and you find yourself drawing back in your seat, wishing you’d the strength to push the chair against the wall.

“Why do you think your mother is unable to fulfil her role as you would like?” asks Hannibal.

“I guess my grandparents treated her the same way she treats me. They were always kind of cold with me when I knew them.”

“Generational cruelty is an infection one must wittingly sterilise. A pity so few are self-aware enough to administer that treatment. Was your father sufficiently conscious?”

Odd, this invocation of the paternal when Hannibal and Will have worked so diligently to embody it in place of your genetic relative.

Now, in a shirt the colour of thatch rolled pristinely back from the jewel of his wristwatch, the doctor could well be the wealthy father of a girl your age, the type to pour upon you his thousands, to walk you down the aisle in a venue of his choosing to marry an approved match of your class.

But you will never wed now that Hannibal has claimed you. He speaks of your family from a wreckage of his making, at ease with his distance from it.

“I love my dad the most,” you say. “But he’s a weird guy. Quiet. Never opens up about his feelings. He’ll talk about movies, or the news, but real stuff? Nope. So I've never felt all that comfortable around him. I mean, with good reason after... after everything.”

“More than good,” says Hannibal, firmly. “That you aren’t angrier with both parents for their abandonment in your time of need surprises me.”

“I don’t really blame them. Uncle Lee has this way about him. He can make people believe pretty much anything he says.”

Inevitable that you should mention Leland, who—though of other blood—is still an incestuous growth on the vine.

“What is this way of his?” asks Hannibal. “You’ve previously spoken of a power to sash the eyes of loved ones against what you perceive to be an obvious darkness. How does that ability present in him?”

You bring your legs up onto the chair, crossing them under you for comfort.

“He moved from Louisiana in his twenties,” you say, “so he still has the accent and everything. He even speaks French sometimes. Then there’s this way of holding himself he has. Kind of cocky, but funny, though. From the second he moved in on our street my parents just loved him, apparently. They never saw what I saw.”

“He’d donned the rubber mask.”

You look up at Hannibal almost shyly.

“Yeah. You remember.”

“Yes. And did you love him, in spite of what seemed to you an obvious guise?”

“I did. In some sick way I still do. So I get why my Mom and Dad believed him over me, but sometimes I think maybe part of them knows the truth, but they just shove it down deep like something dead.”

Scrubbing your face angrily with the sleeve of your sweater you snub, without noticing it, the omnipresent box of tissues on the nearby table top. Hannibal makes no remark on your unclean habit, only pours you a cup of green tea which you accept for the sake of avoiding an argument.

“To truly love someone you mustn’t bury their evils,” says Hannibal. “You must find acceptance of them in whatever form you can. Your parents do not care for this friend so much as fear the upheaval of the known. A suburban life, a sullied idyll— by sending you to me they are attempting to reverse its disunion from their image of it in memory.”

“They’re selfish,” you say. “I know. What’s new there?”

You look at the bottom of your teacup, hunting an impossible pattern in the pale ceramic.

“I don’t want to talk about my family anymore. What about yours? You had a sister, didn’t you?”

Hannibal’s eyes change like the blackening of dusk.

“Will told you this,” he says.

“Does it matter?” you ask, shrilly. “I want to know who you are, Daddy, and this is where I want to start. What happened to Mischa? What did she die of?”

It’s frightening how the man before you alters in only light adjustments: the quiet crossing of a limb, the rhomboid slant of shoulders under his jacket, each a signifier of the restless potentiality for truculence in him.

His face is not so beautiful in moments such as this. The flaws in it stand out to you: flesh racked over halberds of bone, something amphibious in the mouth, of some alien taxon. A killer’s physiognomy, little though you care for such sciences as would define it so.

“My sister was murdered when she was a little girl,” says Hannibal. “I interrupted the culprit in the midst of defiling her body, but it was too late. She was lost to me.”

The moon opal of a tear tips loose of an eyelash, its passage a kinetic artistry. What you’d taken for anger is another emotion: a raw and ancient loss.

“Oh my god,” you say. “That’s awful. Do you know who killed her?”

“A man who remains imprisoned to this day,” says Hannibal. “That is his penance for taking Mischa from me.”

You are in too great a terror and disgust of this man to embrace him, as would feel apt for a moment such as this.

“I’m sorry,” you say, weakly.

Hannibal closes the notebook in his lap and asks, almost blandly, “Are you?”

His bald disbelief flusters you.

“Yes. Of course. She was just a little girl. In fact, I feel like I get it, now. All of this. Me and you. It makes sense why you want me. Why you are what you are. It’s because of her.”

Forcing a smile, you reach over and touch a hand to Hannibal’s cheek.

He turns his face gently away from the caress.

“You’re mistaken, Little One. Whereas you were moulded by your circumstances, I was liberated by mine.”

You stare at him, endeavouring to bone his words for their meaning.

“What are you saying?”

“My philosophies and desires pre-existed Mischa’s death. My love for her restrained me, for while she lived I was never free to act as I yearned to in fear that she would be harmed. In some ways I resented that restraint, but in passing Mischa offered me the opportunity to forgive her.”

A cloud snuffs out the sun, and you sit in the dark of it, aghast.

“Forgive her for what?” you ask, in a near whisper. “Helping you? Hannibal, I—”

“We are still at an impasse, I see,” he says, coolly. “We must rectify this. Would you like to know how she received her absolution?”

You shake your head.

“But you must,” says Hannibal. “You’re a curious girl. Mischa’s remains now lie in a grave in my home country. Before I buried them there, I ate part of her. That is how I reconciled my feelings for my sister with what I am.”

Shock throttles your body in its tremor, and the empty teacup drops from your hand, prevented from breaking only by the carpet underfoot. You had, with all the delicate senses of a medium, deciphered the presage of his appetite, and still you feel the plates of the earth shudder with the magnitude of his confession.

Hannibal gets up from his seat, places the cup back into its saucer, and takes your hand in his.

“Let’s end the session there,” he says. “I’d like to involve you in preparing today’s meal, since that’s a new interest of yours.”

With a fear-stricken servility you walk with him to the kitchen, expecting him to have something—someone—preserved in the glossy coffin of the refrigerator.

Instead Hannibal kneels to unlatch an ingenious door in the floorboards, revealing a neat little staircase which runs down into a basement room. From it emanates a rolling field of cold, biting at you through your clothes.

You take a step back, near tumbling in your eagerness to escape it.

“What is that?”

“It’s an expansion of the freezer,” says Hannibal. “With all the dinner parties I host it’s natural that I found myself in need of more storage space. This is my answer to that problem. I’d like you to go down and choose a cut of meat for dinner.”

There’s no threat in the statement; he speaks, in fact, quite casually, meaning to impress upon you the mundanity of his diet in his eyes. To make supper of his sister, to dine upon lamb: there is no separation for him, being that all of it is meat.

You squeeze your eyes shut, cannot face the oblong of shadow beyond the steps which you’ve dreamt of, unknowing,

“Please don’t make me go down there, Daddy.”

“There’s nothing to be frightened of. Open your eyes, Little One.”

“No. No. I don’t want to.”

You try to turn away, but Hannibal arrests you by the arms, holding you as a farmer would a wriggling hare.

“I’m not going to eat you,” he says. “If that’s what you think.”

“I know!” you wail. “But it doesn’t matter. If I go down there and... see, everything’ll change forever. Because I’ll know for sure, and I’ll be part of it. And I can’t be part of it. I’ll go crazy.”

You jerk passionately in Hannibal’s grip, but his greater strength prevails.

“Wait,” you say. “When you talked about Leland—bringing him to me—you meant that I should kill him to eat.”

“Yes,” says Hannibal, simply. “I did.”

There is a softness in his eyes you recognise as hope. He is a man desperate to create others like him, for all that he believes that they are born.

“But you said with Mischa that eating her was forgiveness,” you say. “But you don’t want me to forgive Uncle Lee. So what would it mean to eat him?”

“Look to why trophy hunters keep mementos of their sport. Some as markers of achievement and dominance over the animal, and others in a subconscious humiliation of the predator they’ve slain. Man gloats to bring a tiger to kneel; a girl, having conquered man, might do the same.”

Thinking of Hannibal’s recorded killings, some of them young women, you say, “Most animals don’t deserve humiliation.”

“That’s all a matter of perspective, my dear. A seasoned hunter develops rather a discerning eye for flaws in his quarry.”

Hannibal smooths a lock of hair behind your ear, his rancid touch queerly soothing.

“What did Savannah Belmont do to deserve humiliation?” you ask, sulkily. “She wasn’t a bad person. She was just a girl, like me.”

“A cursory reading of obituaries and odes to Miss Belmont’s life denote her brief career at a rare bookshop,” says Hannibal, “for which position her personal tastes suggest she was underqualified to take. It wouldn’t be so unrealistic to assume that she left customers unhappy with her inadequate ability to serve them.”

Horror breaks over you like the falling of a chandelier. This, too, you had foreseen: no serious cause to kill was ever required for Hannibal, and that you are fucked rather than murdered by him is but a flourish of fate.

Peering into your eyes, Hannibal comes to a rapid decision and bends to close the trapdoor again.

“Duck, tonight, then,” he says. “That will suffice.”

*

Through terror you cling to Hannibal long into the afternoon, lurking at his elbow, a thumb in your mouth, as he prepares for the day’s appointments.

If he is he here, with you, he cannot kill, you reason, not while he thinks only of the invitation of tear-salt on your lips, the liquor of your nether mouth around him. Again and again you’ll die upon his cock as tribute, for though cold in your disorder you are not so callous as to allow others to, if you can help it.

“I’ll be gone for just a few hours, sweet girl,” he says, pausing to rock you in his lap. “No more of this. I’ve left a new book for you in your room. Please begin reading it for me. And there is the recording of an opera I’d like you to watch. That should keep you occupied until I’m home to you.”

It’s only after he’s driven away in the hearse of his car that you succumb to the awfulness of all you've heard. As in those primordial days of captivity you grasp the bars of your window and scream into the burnished day, beating your fists upon the iron until they burst across the bone.

Only a volley of coughing halts you in this fit, sending you to your bed alarmed by the weakness come over you. You lie shivering for hours, wondering if this is the nervous exhaustion you’ve read about in novels that ends in heroines consigned to the madhouse, sunny climes, or else the grave, none of which you might expect to be released to.

When Hannibal returns he feels your forehead and listens to your coughs with a mildly furrowed brow.

“Hospital,” you croak, but he only laughs and strokes your head.

“There’s no need for that. You have a chest infection. Your immune system is very poor. Nevertheless, you’ll be well again soon.”

He perfumes your damp neck with a kiss and sits down in a chair beside you.

“Perhaps it’s for the best that Will is occupied with work,” he comments, at length. “I wouldn’t like his condition to worsen again.”

[exaltedfuzz]

Hi! Do you have some personal HCs regarding how Lana dealt with the grief of losing her parents? She'd known them her whole life compared to Ema, and I love to think about (read: make myself sad about) how she managed to balance that and trying to do the best by her only remaining family.

Hello! Honestly, if a question contains “do you have some personal HCs regarding [...] Lana”, the answer is almost definitely yes, and this is no exception! Thanks for the ask. I’ve got a couple scripts in early stages around this very topic, so I don’t want to spoil too many of my thoughts in case I ever want to make a comic about them, or something. (Honestly, I should just write fanfic at this point… I have a rough piece of prose writing in the works that I'll attach part of under the cut... A little teaser.)

Around the time Lana would have had to start taking care of Ema, I think I’ve settled on it being most likely between 16 and 18, since I think if she hadn’t had to stay put for Ema, she’d have moved away to go to uni. So she’d be in a pretty tense time in her life anyway, with exams coming up, and whatever teenage stuff she was dealing with. I imagine that when she got the call saying that her parents were dead, she didn’t have much time to grieve alone before Ema was asking what was wrong, and her focus had to very quickly switch right onto making sure that her sister was ok. In general, I think the thing with Lana is that she’s massively self sacrificial, so her coping mechanism became doing the best possible job she could for Ema, and in that, there wouldn’t be much time for grief between making sure Ema was fed, making sure she was getting good grades so she’d manage to get onto a law course (so she could earn good money to put Ema through college), making sure she could drive, so they could shop and get places…

Here she is...

I think one of the biggest struggles in the early days was learning how to drive. She would have probably been about to start lessons, or just started, (if we assume she was 16 or so) and her parents just died in a car crash. But she’d just have to get on with it, because it was necessary. (She doesn’t have the best record with cars, does she?)

Since Ema says she “used to be so gentle, always smiling”, I think that this was the image of her that Ema experienced most often, so it’s safe to say that she was really patient with her. Ema was probably the only thing that kept her going at a lot of different points in her life.

I expect there would have been some really rough moments though, once Ema was off to sleep and she was alone in a house much too big for a teenage girl and a baby. I like to think that they at least got to inherit a house. (They deserve a little bit of a break, don't they?)

Here's a doodle of her in the first few seconds of having to acknowledge the fact that she's on her own. This is based on a line from the thing under the cut.

And, as promised, here's a little bit of writing. Rough and underdeveloped, I think, but hopefully enjoyable.

The landline didn’t usually go. If it was important, her parents would call her cell. But it did go. Three times, consecutively. She could recall it all. Ema, sitting up at the table with her, eating her pot of yoghurt and drawing in the back of Lana’s notebook. Lana’s textbook laid out in front of her - this was the one thing she didn’t remember. It was physics, that much she knew, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care about whatever was on that page after the rest of what she learned that night. She was smiling, Ema was too. She couldn’t keep her sticky little hands off of Lana’s pens and pencils. It was achingly normal. So familiar. Her parents would have a conference, or a party, or a theatre trip planned, and she was old enough to look after Ema, so she did. She was good with her.

So when they told her to not wait up, to make sure Ema got a little snack if she was hungry, to call them if she needed anything, it was normal. Another night in, another night of making sure Ema didn’t get too curious about what all the fun things under the sink were, another night of studying, another quiet night. She liked them. Sure, it was hard to be saddled with looking after the most curious baby to ever have little hands to grab with, and it was hard to not feel like she was missing out whenever her friends would go out, while she was here, eating carrot sticks and cucumber to try to encourage Ema to follow suit - those days still tasted like hummus in her mind. But it was a labour of love, and Lana was happy to sacrifice her time for her baby sister.

She tried not to be bitter. She didn’t want to be, because Ema was such a joy. But when she’d sit up at the table, nose in her books as always, and she’d hear all the fawning over the youngest Skye, she did feel left out. When Ema was born, Lana stopped getting so many little treats. Her parents used to take her out with them to these excursions. It was a lot of fun to get to talk to the scientists who worked with her mum, she loved seeing the crappy plays that the amateur dramatic society put on, she’d always end up getting sweets and snacks when her dad took her to the shops, and it just kind of stopped when Ema was born. It was a hard time for Lana, but she couldn’t resent Ema. She had a silly smile, and little hands which wanted nothing more than to squeeze Lana’s fingers, and poke around at her face. Holding Ema in her arms while she conducted her first scientific experiments on the elastic potential of Lana’s nose almost made her cry.

She told her parents then that she wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt Ema, and she’d done her best to make good on that promise until her life was once again torn out from under her feet with the SL-9 incident, and she found herself constantly hurting Ema all on her own in her self absorption. She never forgave herself for that. Ema did, though. She was always so excited to come and see her on the other side of that visitation room, and she still told her everything, like Lana made sure she knew she could. Her eyes looked sad, though. Lana had watched those eyes as they changed from barely betraying any conscious thought, to when they quirked half closed with Ema’s newfound sarcastic smirk. Lana wasn’t quite sure she liked that. Her baby sister was older than she was that night by now, and she definitely didn’t seem like she could handle looking after a kid. What must Lana have looked like?

She knew what she felt like, that’s for sure. Of course, she stood up, with a sigh, on the third repetition of that irritating ringing, and held up the phone to her ear. She was so ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need double glazed windows.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Skye residence?”

It was cold. Maybe they did need double glazed windows. Lana hesitated before she responded.

“Ah, yes?”

“Am I speaking to Miss Lana Skye?”

“...Who is this?”

There was too much blood rushing through Lana’s head for her to really hear what the response was.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last bit?”

“There’s been an incident involving a Mr. and Dr. Skye.”

She didn’t care about the rest of whatever he said. Something about investigation being open, something about intensive care, something about an escort car to the hospital being arranged. She could not speak, and her eyes failed. She leant forward, one hand white knuckled around the phone, the other now beginning to bleed with how Lana was chewing at her thumbnail. Ema was still babbling on the other side of the kitchen-diner. She never wished Ema would shut up, but she didn’t want to hear her making these silly noises as if their lives weren’t about to become impossible.

Lana was about to put Ema to bed. It was late. She didn’t remember the time. It was easier that way. She was supposed to be giving a presentation tomorrow at school, and she wanted to be sharp and awake for it. She wasn’t really planning on staying up much longer herself. Certainly not to wait for her parents to get back. She supposed they never would, now. She recognised the way this officer spoke from all the stupid cop shows she watched. She didn’t need it spelled out for her. She mumbled out a thanks, and hung up.

She always hated crying. She couldn’t stand it. The way her breath sounded as it shuddered out of her made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak. She couldn’t ever afford to be, and that was all she could think of. Lana didn’t notice Ema getting out of the chair and unsteadily walking over to her, and her little grasping hands reaching for the hem of her jumper managed to ground her again. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. Eyes so wide and full of questions, all of which Lana realised, in that moment, she would have to answer. She must have scared her with the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way she grit her teeth, because Ema pulled a little sad face at her.

“Why are you crying?”

Ema wasn’t really that helpful sometimes. Lana swallowed, and looked for an answer. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and covered them with her hand, before breathing.

All she could manage to choke out was confirmation: “I’m very upset.”

What a useless statement.

Ema wasn’t ever satisfied with one answer. She just kept asking why. Lana knew that you had to be honest with kids when they had complex questions, so she picked Ema up in her skinny arms and held her while she explained. Usually, she was delighted to explain everything about the world to her sister, but this was hard. Not as hard as seeing Ema’s little pout as she tried to comprehend, though.

As she sat in the escort car on her way to the hospital, as if their presence would miraculously bring their parents to life, she kept holding Ema. She kissed the top of her head and tried not to cry on her soft hair. Her stomach turned as she thought about what the last thing her mum had said to her was. It had escaped her mind until now, and she wished she could let it escape her mind forever.

"No boyfriends over, alright? Be good. Love you. See you in the morning."

She supposed she'd never get to tell them now that there never would be any boyfriends. It was selfish of her to care about something so trivial, so she tried her best to push it to the side. Ema never had to know, either. It wasn't important.

She didn't end up giving her presentation. Or going to school, for the next few days. Ema was at home, so Lana was at home.

[emptymasks]

Old Web European Musical Sites

So this post started because I was looking through the waybackmachine on the Internet Archive for the old Disney Fairies site for a friend, and remembered I'd backed up some old musical related sites a couple years ago on the waybackmachine just to archive them.

Which made me remember how recently I saw someone on here, I don't remember who, asking if there were interviews either about Elisabeth das Musical or specifically with Uwe Kroger (the actor who originated the role of Der Tod/Death) in English to which someone had answered no but there are some quotes and fragments in other posts on here. Which made me remember an old website I'd found that did have interviews on and I went out to find it. After I found it, I tried to find another website I'd found that had nice old photos of Uwe on that I'd save for I'd never seen them anywhere else, but sadly can no longer find the site and I hadn't bookmarked it or archived it. But, in doing so I did find some others.

So, come along with me as I find some ye olde websites based around European Musicals and Non-English Musicals, all of which I am archiving using the waybackmachine and can be found on my archive.org account @ wennli3b3 under the 'web archives' tab on my profile.

What is old web? The aesthetics wiki describes it as "Essentially consisting of screencaps and gifs, Old Web is an aesthetic utilizing traditional web design elements combined with aspects of poetry and self-expression. This also includes GIFs, video games, and clip-art. This aesthetic expresses nostalgia for Internet culture of the early 1990s to early 2010s." Think of old GeoCities and AngelFire websites, the pre-2010s internet where it wasn't uncommon for anyone to make their own little website for anything and the internet wasn't just social media. There's just such a charm for me about these old sites and the work people put into customising and decorating their sites, often just as a fun project for themselves or a way to document things they loved. Therefore the websites we'll be looking at are from the 90s up to the late 2000s, 2010s and onwards websites don't count for this list.

What is the waybackmachine? The waybackmachine is hosted on the Internet Archive, it's a digital archive of websites that lets you visit websites as they were during the past if they've been archived there.

[Note: this post won't have clickable links because that can make Tumblr unhappy and either hide or soft-block my post, so sadly no clickable links, but I will write out the links with spaces in the hopes that won't hide the post and you will just have to type them in for yourselves, and I will link my web archive page in the replies to this post. I am also not claiming to be the first to back these sites up or discover them, some of them have already been archived in past, but doing them all under one account means you guys can have an easy list of them all in one place. Some of these sites no longer exist and are only accessible via the waybackmachine, in those cases I will save those sites to my web archive so they are all listed on one page.]

1. musicalvienna . at

Staring with a website some of you will be familiar with and while in it's current 2023 form doesn't count as old web and is easily accessible, we're going back in time with the waybackmachine to see how the site looked and what information it had about old current productions in 2000-2008. And frankly I don't know what to do with the information that at some point in 2000 there was a 'vampire museum' inside the Raimund Theatre that had what appears to be a wax figure of Steve Barton in his original Graf von Krolock costume. I. What??

2. eljen . net / kroeger

A fansite dedicated to Uwe Kroger, the actor, that was run seemingly from 1998-2002 that old photos, links to music that no longer work, but most important to me is the 'Press' page that has many articles and interviews with Uwe that have been translated into English! The site is also available in German eljen . net / kroeger / deutsch. A special shoutout to Uwe's own drawing of himself as Der Tod.

3. eljen . net / elisabeth

Run by the same person as the first site, in fact it is technically the same site however if you go to the root eljen . net there is just a blank page with a link to the /kroeger site, there's no direct link to the Elisabeth site, you can only find it through googling or having the direct URL.

4. iukc . de

The Uwe Kroger fanclub webite seems to have started around 2000 but it was taken offline sometime after October 2021 as going to the URL now leads to a 404 error page, but the site is still accessible using the waybackmachine. On a 2019 capture of the website it states this fanclub was dissolved on December 31st 2019 and was advertising the uwe-kroeger-community . com website as a new fanclub. Some of the pages are available in English and Japanese, but all of the pages are only available in German. The site includes information about the fanclub, as well as lists of Uwe's work, discography, and more.

5. gudrun-kauck . de

A site that as far as I can tell is run by someone just documenting their life and things they see, and that happens to include many musicals. Down the left side of the site there are pages for The Phantom of the Opera, Tanz der Vampire, Ludwig, Concerts, Musicals and Actors. Here there is so much information, interviews, photos, screenshots, transcriptions of scripts and lyrics, articles, and more. This site is a real treasure trove. It's been updating since at least 2004 and it's most recent update was in 2023. This site is in German.

6. jimsteinman . com

The Tanz der Vampire page on Jim Stienman's website has links to lots of articles, interviews and photos for the original 1997 Vienna production and the 2000 Stuttgart production. This site is in English.

7. carpe-jugulujm . com

Another site that is no longer active and can only be accessed via the waybackmachine, it was online by 2006 and taken offline between late 2021 and 2023. It has information on productions of Tanz der Vampire between 1997 and 2009 and is one of the few if not the only place I've found information about the 2000 Estonia production. This site is in English.

8. geocities . ws / mymusicalworlds

This website is all in Chinese, however parts of it are in English and German. It lists information on different musicals, actors, and has lyrics for songs, and photos. It also has midi files but, as with almost all of these old sites, the download links no longer work.

9. theatre-musical . com

This website started around 2002 and was closed some time in 2016, if you go to the website now all you'll get is a message saying the website has been closed, however the old pages are still accessible via the waybackmachine. There's pages for many musicals with lots of information about each show and each of these musical pages has a link to a page that lists other sites, official and fanmade, that are about this musical. There's many more sites to find via

10. elisabeth-fanclub . de

A fansite dedicated to Elisabeth das Musical, more specifically the 2001 Essen production and 2003 Vienna Revival. This site includes information and photos about these productions. It was online by 2004 and was taken offline some time after 2007 and is only now available via the waybackmachine. This site is in German.

11. sisi-net . de

While this site is more dedicated to the actual real Empress Elisabeth, it also has a page dedicated to Elisabeth das Musical which includes several articles and interviews for the 2001 Essen production. There is also some information on here about the Ludwig musical. This site is in German. It was online by 1999, in 2008 the site was empty and "'"under construction" and after 2008 seemed to have either had it's domain sold or hacked and became used for something else, and by 2019 was offline.

12. geocities . com / broadway / 8851

Another site that is dedicated to the real person Elisabeth, but also has information about multiple productions of Elisabeth das Musical. The site was started in 1996 and is no longer online as GeoCities no longer exists as a website hoster, but can be accessed using the waybackmachine. This site is in English.

13. elisabeth-musicpage . de

A German fansite for the 2001 Essen production of Elisabeth das Musical that contains information about the show, merchandise, photos, etc. The site was online by 2002, went under construction in 2005 and after 2006 went offline and only accessible via the waybackmachine. This site is in German.

14. elisabeth-das-musical . de

The old official site for the 2001 Essen production of Elisabeth das Musical. It's only accessible via the waybackamachine however all I could access is this homepage as the site seems to require flash player which no longer exists. The site was made in 2001, by 2006 it was redirecting to a different website that no longer exists, and by 2008 it was just offline.

15. sissi . nl

The official site for the 1999 Dutch production of Elisabeth das Musical. The site went up in 1999 and is no longer online and only accessible via the waybackmachine.

16. marloes . info

A site where someone cataloged every musical they saw between 1996 and 2004. Some of these listings link to their reviews of the musicals and pictures they took (the pictures of Elisabeth das Musical really interest me because they went on a night where Jesper Tyden was understudying for Der Tod (he usually played Rudolf) in teh 2001 Essen production).

17. danceofthevampries . com

The official site for the 2002 Broadway production of Tanz der Vampire. Whilst we all have... feelings about this production, the site's design is very of its time. It has information on the (re-written) plot, cast, downloads for the original English demo recordings (that no longer work), and more. In 2002 the cast page lists the Broadway cast, after the shows closure in 2003 these pages advertised the 2003 Hamburg cast, and by 2006 it now advertises the 2006 Berlin cast, and then even by 2012 that page was no longer being updated. This site is now only accessible via the waybackmachine, I don't know when exactly it went offline but I remember being able to acccess it back in 2020. This site is in English.

18. tanzdervampire . de

The official site for German-lanuage productions of Tanz der Vampire from 2000 to around 2004, mostly the 2003 Hamburg production. Some pages of the site sometimes redirect to musicalwelt . de, like the 'galarie' page that links to a page of many paintings by Mike Schöbs of the original 1997 Vienna production. The site is only accessible via the waybackmachine, sometimes I have difficultly loading the pages, and sometimes the pages on later dates redirect to stagegholding . de which no longer exists or works.

19. tanz-der-vampire . de

A fansite for the 2003 Hamburg production of Tanz der Vampire that is still online. It has info about the musical and this production. The page I found the most interesting is the info > links page. It has a list that includes screenshots of websites from around 2003 with official and fanmade sites for different actors from the musical (such as Marjan Shaki, Maike Switzer, Aris Sas, Thomas Mülner, Jens Janke, Ian Jon Bourg, Kevin Tarte and more) most if not all of these sites are on the waybackmachine (and I'm saving them to my own web archive page rather than listing them all here, Tumblr has a text limit and an image limit and we're already running close to it).

20. fuer-sarah . de

A fansite dedicated to actors who played Sarah including understudies, alternates, swings, and dancers who played Sarah/Solo Female Dancer in the dance sequences in Tanz der Vampire. This site is in German and is only available via the waybackmachine and was active between 2001-2005.

21. musicalland . de

A fansite dedicated to musical theatre with some more specific pages dedicated too Elisabeth das Musical, The Phantom of the Opera, 42nd Street and Mamma Mia. The site is still online and stopped updating in 2010. This site is in German. The link to the Elisabeth das Musical page no longer works, but can still be accessed using the waybackmachine.

22. old-hickory . demon . co . uk / jim

A fan page for composer Jim Steinman that has pages about his non-musical work as well as his musicals Tanz der Vampire and Whistle Down the Wind. The Tanz der Vampire pages include lyrics in German and English, as well as the entire original 1997 Vienna libretto translated into English, as well as the 2000 Stuttgart production's programme fully translated into English that includes information and interviews. The site is in English and only accessible via the waybackmachine.

23. romeojulietmusicals . com

A fan site for the French musical Roméo et Juliette that has pages dedicated to many different language productions with cast lists, information, lyrics and lyric translations. There are galleries on the site but the images on longer load. This site is in English and was online between 2004 to 2008. There is a 'related links' page that contains so many more links to other musical sites.

24. compat . tf1 . fr

A fan site for Roméo et Juliette for the original 2000 Paris production containing images of the cast, and video interviews and behind the scenes with links that no longer work. This site is in French.

25. mozartbudapest . hu

The official website for the 2003 Budapest production of Mozart das Musical. This website is only accessible via the waybackmachine, it contains the cast list, a bio of Mozart (the person), but sadly most of the image no longer work. I mention it here only because when i opened it I was surprised the original logo animation and music still played. This site is available in English and Hungarian.

26. notredameonline . com

During 2000-2001 this URL was for the French musical Notre Dame de Paris and you can see this via the waybackmachine. The site then went offline after 2001 and the domain was sold and since 2006 has belonged to the University of Notre Dame. I really like the design of this site, sadly most of the links open pop-ups that no longer work. The site is available in French and English.

27. notredamedeparis . it

The official site for the 2002 Italian tour of Notre Dame de Paris. It has a lot of information about the musical and this specific production. This site is in Italian and is only accessible via the waybackmachine.

28. geocities . ws / dreamcatcher182004

A fansite dedicated to a few musicals that was last updated in 2003. It has pages for Chicago, Les Mis, Miss Saigon, The Phantom of the Opera and Tanz der Vampire.

.

So yeah, that was a list. I hope that was interesting or for anyone wanting to find more information about these musicals for research, essays, or just for fun, that this post was helpful or interesting in some way. There are a lot more websites than just the ones on this list, however Tumblr has both a photo and a character limit for text posts. If you want a larger catalog you can look at my Internet Archive (archive . org) page @ WennLi3b3 and go to my 'web archives' page, this lists both pages I myself have archived and pages other's have archived and I have bookmarked. Hope someone found this interesting. I just like making lists.

[susandsnell]

did you see the current US les mis tour? i'm thinking of going (though i haven't bought tickets yet) and i'm curious about what might be in it for valvert enjoyers (including myself)

OH DID I EVER, FRIEND. It came to Canada this past summer and I cannot recommend getting tickets enough; it's possibly the best the show has ever been, and the cast is incredible. I didn't think I'd still be crying at it at this age and bam, Act 2 rolls around and there goes my painstakingly winged eyeliner.

Valvert is imo the most played up it's been, if you want to go in unspoiled I'll leave it at that, but I'll put more details after the cut. Spoilers/me being a cringe parody of myself below.

They've gone with both a lot more physical blocking between the two of them and a much more humanized Javert + book-accurately violent (albeit For Good Reason) Valjean than previous productions, all of which lends itself very well to the ship. Lot of lingering gazes in prison/grabs at each other, a genuine rapport between Maire Madeleine and the Inspector of Montreuil-sur-Mer, and then there's the Champmathieu trial through the Confrontation. Javert actively lunges for Valjean after his confession and the two leads I saw had such an intense chemistry you could see their eyes burning through that part.

As for the Confrontation, it's been choreographed/blocked to be a lot more suggestive violent than previously; there's a barely concealed smirk on Javert's face during "you'll wear a different chain" that I remember made me think "...my 12 year old self is thriving right now." Valjean doesn't snap until Javert tries to shackle him, at which point it goes into the whole "I am warning you, Javert!" bit. He uses that incredible, Brick-accurate Valjean strength to break free, deck Javert, and garrotes him with his own chain at the song's (heh) climax, until the man goes down to his knees, and if I'm not misremembering, he half-straddles his shoulder to keep him down. Before it gets into the "And this I swear to you tonight" bit, there's a good several moments of Javert left rolling on the ground writhing, gagging, and moaning (this would become a persistent thing as the show progressed) while still crawling towards Valjean, half-conscious and half-mad with obsession, reaching towards him. And then Valjean smashes his head into a wall, Liam Neeson in '98 style. I don't know what you go to the theatre for, but personally I do to see old men cry and beat the shit out of each other homoerotically.

Not much more happens in Act 1 (though the Intervention through Stars has as much reverence to it about the sanctity of their chase and their dynamic as it does the very structures Javert cannot fathom Valjean existing outside of - I think he presses his fingers to his lips a little on "Lord, let me find him" after crossing himself), but Act 2 at the Barricades is where things go wild again. There seems to be an Objectifying The Inspector agenda behind the scenes of this new production and I am here for it. Thus, please know that the Valvert barricade scenes take place with the mainstay of Javert having his shirt needlessly torn open/almost off by Les Amis / his ponytail getting dishevelled / him throwing his head back and moaning / panting at some points over the singing because he got his ass kicked again. Heavy, heavy appraisal in Valjean's "give me the spy Javert"/tugging on his bonds as he pulls him away to ostensibly take him out back like Old Yeller (for show for Les Amis, sure but I sensed a bit of spite/something else). And then Valjean's Forgiveness is just. Okay, so I got good enough seats to say that Javert is licking his lips during "How right you should kill with a knife."

What really made my jaw drop was that Javert, being played a lot more emotionally and erratically at this point, actually reaches with both hands once freed of his bonds to grab hold of Valjean's rifle by the mouth and pull it up to his head/press his whole chest into it on "shoot me now, for all I care". Which, yes, Imagery, but then you have them having a legitimate moment where Valjean firmly but gently pulls the gun away/him away from the gun, and holds his face/shoulder in a way I think was? Deliberately meant to echo the blocking of the Bishop during the whole "I have bought your soul for God" in the prologue. "There's nothing that I blame you for" is almost played as a realization despite the anguish Javert has put him through. As for the sewers through the end, each man is played as having increasing realization of how much they are two sides of the same coin, but during the Soliloquy, you have Javert screaming out/sobbing some of his lines about Valjean and how dare he transcend the very structures that gave sense and shape to his world. It has to be seen to be believed.

Outside of this -- there's actually a lot more work done outside their interactions to parallel them. Javert and Gavroche are given a rapport meant to run alongside the Valjean-Cosette relationship where you see a Javert who's a lot more indulgently annoyed towards this cocky gamin than aggressive (they have such a cute, funny moment together after Look Down/Javert's Intervention bit, Javert's not even mad and more 'are you fucking kidding me I lost to an 8 year old' when Gavroche blows his cover). It pays off because they worked in him paying respects when he sees his body during the Bring Him Home instrumental as they did in the movie (albeit more organically, because the scene is staged from Javert's POV seeing all the bodies at the barricade + he stops over Gavroche, kneels to close the boy's still-open eyes, and with a stricken expression, makes the sign of the cross over his body), to the point that you absolutely get the impression Javert is seeing his younger, disadvantaged yet striving self in Gavroche. With the instrumental cue being Valjean's song of paternal feeling for Marius, the staging really drives home that Javert had so many opportunities himself to go through a similar journey of personal growth through fatherhood. And there's power in these parallels when they're not interacting, too!

All in all, they went all in on every character relationship in this production and I cannot recommend it enough. The costumes are beautiful, the sets/effects are phenomenal, and the orchestration reveals just how beautiful the score really is. Go see it!!!

[jmdbjk]

Praise and worship

I finally figured out the meaning of the Standing Next to You MV!!

But first, did Kookie wax his pits or does he always have that landing strip of hair there?

Anyway, sorry for the immediate digression but you know it is imperative to dissect everything, even pit hair.

Back to the MV...

The opening scenes include this very non-inclusive sign:

Only limos, no sportscars, SUVs, pick up trucks, family sedans or mopeds welcome here. They are keeping the riff-raff out. ONLY LIMOS THEY SAID CAN'T YOU READ THE SIGN?

Obviously makes sense when we see this dystopian scene where less than a dozen people are walking around inside some sort of derelict compound. A FORTRESS FOR ONLY THE STRETCH LIMO PREFERRING POPULATION!

Incidentally, stretch limos represent 1 percent of the options available from limo companies in the U.S. (I googled it).

Amazing that they found this many in Budapest.

What was once a sign of affluence has now fallen on hard times... hence the decrepit dystopia pictured above.

Enter our female antagonist. Who does she represent? I'll get to that later...

Our antagonist is antagonizing beautifully throughout but starts off antagonistically in her leather coatdress and 1980's heavy black eyeliner and bobbed hair. After all, the song is a throwback to that era of the late 70's/early 80's. All she is missing is the peach blush in the hollows of her cheeks. Hand me a Maybelline Blooming Colors Blush Palette and I'll fix it.

Then the dark angel makes his appearance. Ah, yes, sweet angel, come closer.

I think he has come down or up from where ever dark angels habitate in order to correct an injustice... the injustice being the duck-billed cups of this atrociously antagonistic dress our antagonist is made to wear:

For real... they couldn't find a better fitting dress? At least grab a roll of toilet paper and stuff those titty cups to fill them out? They are so sad and droopy looking... props to her Maybelline Expert Eyes Turquoise eye shadow though.

I suppose the stacked pancakes... I mean bra cups... could have meant to be an homage to another 80's icon: Madonna and her cone shaped bra... but ... nah... try again. They look like hamburgers. Now I can't unsee it. So, so sad.

We do a lil spin and our protagonist spins himself up into a jewel encrusted, crotch grabbing, finger pointing master of his game.

I think he's here to conduct a worship service.

It's time to be churched:

Stretch limos (because no riff-raff remember?) enter the opening in a temple-of-Petra-like giant wall emblazoned with JK's sacred heart logo. Very symbolic.

In they go to gather for worship. Others sit in theatre seats while Ms. Antagonist sits on the car like a hood ornament.

So... who is she and what's going on here?

No clue. She sits haughtily and antagonistically on her outdated stretch limo, while her little minions sit in the rows watching the object of their desire preaching the holy choreography.

However, Mr. Protagonist is about to really lay down the religion.

But first, gratuitous shot of Kookie prancing in heeled chelsea boots.

Back to religion... the religion of Bangtan dance... one of these is not like the other.

(*covers Hobi-hyung's eyes* Don't look its too painful.)

Did they not monitor this mess?

I don't meant to be disrespectful and I know these guys are some of the best dancers in the industry but next to Jungkook, they look like a herd of elephants. Just sayin'.

Anyway, Protagonist proceeds to become angry at the sloppy choreo and all the limo drivers gather for a gang-brawl in the middle of the church. Probably arguing over the spelling of chauffeur. I couldn't find an urban slang reference for limo, limousine or limo driver. I'm sure some exist but being the innocent thing I am, I don't know what they are.

Mr. Protagonist brings down the wrath and puts the fear of Hobi into his crew:

Then the climax of the whole darn thing: a dance break. Holy communion commences with serious thrusting into crotch grabs (some are enjoying it more than others):

Service concludes and I wonder how many takes before they got one where Kookie didn't bust out laughing with his bunny giggle?

But seriously, the MV does seem to be an homage to an era where Michael Jackson thrilled us with his brilliant music and dancing. Jungkook is continuing to pull us and BTS as a group along, forging new paths for them in the music industry. Like Kookie, I am anxious for them to reunite and get back on that stage together. And like Yoongi, I too believe they will devour the world.

(It's humor, y'all.)

[whatshehassaid]

The fact that they keep bringing in characters that are from later in the books (Bruce, Dr. Fareed, Raglan James) makes me think Dubai is farther along in the books than we realize. I feel like some stuff (akasha) hasn’t happened yet… but finding Claudia’s diary in New Orleans, and Louis being suicidal etc are from later in the book series. Has parts of Merrick already happened? Louis said in season 1 that he hadn’t killed since the year 2000. The book Merrick was released in 2000. Armand (as Rashid) “You’re chronicling a suicide.” The fact that they even HAVE Claudia’s diaries in the first place is farther along in the books.

Now why bring Raglan James in so early? I already have a feeling they aren’t bringing David in (they didn’t for Mayfair Witches and he was a big part of that) so why Raglan James SPECIFICALLY? Why not just some random Talamasca member? They’re trying to hint at what’s to come. Daniel being in his 70s and not having David in Mayfair Witches (or IWTV I’m assuming cause it wouldn’t make sense to have David in one but not the other) makes me think they’ve merged Daniel and David into one character.

If you know anything about what happens to David in Tale of the Body Thief you’ll understand where I’m going with this - I’ll put a spoiler warning for the books here.

At the end of Tale of the Body Thief, David gets a new body and Lestat changes him into a vampire without his consent.

If Daniel and David ARE being merged into one character (which makes sense considering David is the one who listens to Armand’s story in The Vampire Armand and the fact David was a main character in the Mayfair Witches book series but was merged with Rowan’s love interest to make Ciprien in the TV adaptation) then that means that something similar could happen to Daniel.

Armand in the books (after 10-12 years of a romantic - albeit it started off fucked up - relationship which includes Daniel being addicted to Armand’s blood and a mutual obsession between the two of them and then they fall in love) turns Daniel in 1985 I think the same night of Lestat’s concert and the awakening of Akasha if I’m remembering correctly. In the TV adaptation since the San Fransisco interview already happened that also means (quite obviously from the new promo) that Devils Minion already happened. Which means young Daniel tried everything on Earth to get Armand to change him into a Vampire. Probably bringing himself super close to death because he wanted to be with Armand forever. Armand has a major trauma from Marius (grooming, child slavery, sex slavery- but also Marius telling him over and over that every fledgling grows to hate their maker- lol ok dude, you literally groomed your first two fledglings from childhood and abandoned them both but yeah, that must be a every maker and fledgling thing). It affects Armand to the point that he vows never to turn ANYONE into a Vampire EVER. But then he meets Daniel and falls in love with him and can’t stand the thought of existing without him. So he turns him.

It seems like Armand in the show didn’t truly believe Daniel loved him. (They have a really wild relationship where Daniel will run away and come back begging for him back and Armand welcoming him with open arms over and over until Daniel finally accepts that he’s in love with Armand too). But Daniel DID love him. Just as much as Armand loved (and STILL loves- because he always will) Daniel. So instead of watching him be chronically suicidal and trying everything to get Armand to turn him he wiped Daniel’s memories thinking they wouldn’t come back. Thinking Daniel could live a normal human life without him.

From what I can see of the preview it seems like Armand and Louis had broken up long ago. Most likely after the first interview in the 70s (I’m pretty sure it’s similar in the book - Louis ends up leaving Armand once Armand tells him Lestat is still alive and he didn’t die in the theatre fire). Hence, Armand saying “I know where he is.” in the promo for 2x05.

That’s when Daniel and Armand fully happen. But in the show instead of turning Daniel he wipes his memories and tries to let him live a normal life because he loves him.

Now Lestat and Louis break up and get back together like ten fucking times in the books and Louis when he isn’t with Lestat always goes off alone or he goes to Armand. Lestat and Armand eventually come to love each other and have a mutual understanding and respect for one another - it takes a while, believe me. Lestat KNOWS he can trust Armand with Louis. That Armand loves Louis too.

What I’m thinking is going on… is some of the events of Merrick have already happened where Louis seeks out Claudia’s diaries and her spirit to try to bring peace to himself. Instead it makes it MUCH MUCH worse. To the point that Louis goes forward with killing himself by burning himself to ashes (Lestat does bring him back don’t worry). But since I think the full Akasha storyline hasn’t happened yet I feel like humans would’ve noticed that (hence the great conversion cause she ends up killing like 90% of the Vamp population…) I think what is actually happening is Louis is trying to kill himself. He’s actively trying by getting Daniel to write this book for vampires to come after him and kill him (hence the “you’re chronicling a suicide”). His depression and despair is getting worse and worse as season 2 goes on, outwardly crying to Daniel thanking him for helping him remember.

I’m not sure if Louis in Dubai knows that Lestat is alive… he certainly doesn’t during the first interview.

Armand is a complicated character and he means well (yes he does do some fucked up shit in the books- some to do with Claudia- I don’t know if they’ll have THAT part in the show). But Armand does love Louis. He feels guilt for what happened with Claudia and he will do ANYTHING to make it up to Louis. To the point of letting Louis walk all over him (he’s had a fucked up human life and vampire life, let my boy live). I have a feeling, since Lestat’s lawyer in Paris mentioned it to Louis that Lestat has gone to sleep. They do that sometimes. Bury themselves underground and sleep- sometimes for decades. If that is the case I’m not exactly sure what happened between them for Lestat to do that but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

What I think happened after the first interview? Armand was trying to protect Louis from himself. There are obvious signs of schizophrenia in Louis and they’ve been hinting at it since season one with the Paul/Bird symbolism. Louis has blackouts. He’s had them even before he and Claudia tried to kill Lestat- that’s why I think we’re getting a revisit to the fight in 1x05 and to Claudia’s turning into a vampire. Either that or we are going to get it from Lestat himself at the trial in Paris (cause yes, the real Lestat is there).

Armand was not lying when he said he protects Louis from himself. That Louis acts out sometimes. The photos of all the men I believe some of them are Louis’ victims from his blackouts. We’ve already seen a glimpse of one incident in season 2 with the man in the park and Louis leaving his dead body there. Armand has suppressed Louis’ memories of what happened in Paris. What happened with Claudia. Probably half because he doesn’t want Louis to run off without Lestat able to care for him and partly because he’s trying to prevent Louis from hurting more people viciously and then going into a guilt spiral.

Louis did know what happened to Claudia at one point… but I think it was making him so suicidal that maybe Armand and Lestat together decided it was best to have his memories suppressed so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. But now? Now Lestat is god knows where and Armand is barely holding onto control. Louis is lashing out at him. He’s lashing out at Daniel. The memories are flooding back and Louis is slowly remembering… not just what happened to Claudia… not just what Armand did… but the probably hundreds or thousands of gruesome deaths he’s caused during his blackout episodes. Including the blackout episode he had with Daniel in 1973.

Now speaking of 1973, Armand was trying even then to keep Louis’ schizophrenia and blackouts at bay. He was suppressing memories that triggered Louis - half because he didn’t want to lose Louis but I also think he genuinely was doing it for Louis’ own sanity. But then Louis goes seeking out someone who will let him speak about it and help bring those memories back - Daniel.

Armand may just think Daniel is another fuck and run, I have a feeling ever since Paris - even though Louis barely remembers it - honestly, probably before then going by the fuckboi tendencies Louis was displaying toward Armand in the last episode, he probably fucks around a lot and Armand lets him. Mostly because he’s trying desperately to make it up to Louis. As I said, he’s desperate to make it up to Louis.

So Armand says okay fine, have your fun. And Louis goes with Daniel. But what Armand DOESN’T know is that Louis isn’t going with Daniel for (or JUST for) sex. He wants him to help him remember. That’s the WHOLE POINT of the interview. Armand doesn’t know about it. The first interview happens…. And then? Daniel pisses Louis off. He triggers him off by asking him to turn him. And Louis blacks out and attacks.

Armand shows up mid attack to find Louis with the boy he spent ALL NIGHT WITH doing GOD KNOWS WHAT and he immediately thinks Louis is trying to replace him with someone else. He gets jealous. Again, he doesn’t know about the interview yet.

Louis blacked out and by that time its morning. Armand probably walked in on him (trying to be like - you’re going to get hurt if you don’t find a safe spot it’s morning!) feeding on Daniel and being burned through the sunlight coming in the window. Armand has jealousy issues. I can’t blame the guy he has a huge amount of abandonment issues and being hurt… so of course he immediately jumps to why is Louis spending all night with this boy? What is so special about this boy that he’ll spend time with him all night but he won’t even look at me the same anymore (since Claudia).

Louis has to hide from the sun… And that’s when Armand jealously curious about this human boy and why Louis is apparently so open with him from what he seen at the bar. He tries to get inside Daniel’s head. “Is that what makes you so FASCINATING?” “Leave him be Armand!”

At some point - with all this mind fuckery which of course is essentially torture and poor Daniel is probably half horny half scared to death - iykyk - Armand sees the tape. He plays it. This isn’t about the boy at all. It’s about LESTAT.

It’s always been about Lestat.

Upset (and rightly so - imagine being with someone for that long thinking they loved you and meanwhile they were still pining for their ex) he has a bit of a meltdown…. And when he calms down enough… he’s defeated and tells Louis the truth. That Lestat is alive and “I know where he is.”

Now… Armand… who is a stickler for the vampire laws… knows he’s tortured this boy… knows this boy can’t living knowing that vampires exist. Because he’s seen into his head he knows there’s pain there. Daniel is an addict for a reason though I don’t think Armand knows the reason at that point… but since he knows the boy MUST DIE because you cannot tell a human about vampires and let them live… he offers him a peaceful death. “I’m the quiet you’ve been longing for”

Daniel agrees. The kid is tired, he probably has childhood trauma hence the drug addiction. He was just attacked by one Vampire and tortured by the other.

Armand starts to drain him… and then?

I think Armand sees himself in Daniel. Whatever it is (I’m not 100% sure - maybe abuse of some kind) stops Armand from killing him. He’s found someone who understands.

He gets Louis (partly burned from the sun) to help him carry Daniel out. Not sure if they take him to a hospital or where they take him but afterwards Louis leaves Armand and goes looking for Lestat.

That’s when Devils Minion happens.

Armand and Daniel somehow fall in love. And a decade later he has to wipe Daniel’s memories because Daniel will not stop until he’s either dead literally or a vampire so he can be with Armand. Or so he says, Armand thinks.

Now fast forward and we have Louis self destructing. Armand trying to hold the pieces together… Louis brings Daniel in not remembering he almost killed the guy and thinking, “Well he can help me get these memories back… i know he’s Armand’s ex and he (Daniel) is missing memories too. maybe if I get his memories back we can help each other”

That’s why Louis keeps bringing things up. Daniel’s mind has filled in a decade of his life with a wife and daughter that probably don’t even exist. (I know, I know Alice is Armand theory… but the farther we get the more it makes sense). Louis is PURPOSEFULLY triggering memories to come back in Daniel so he can help HIM remember too. Armand (until last episode I think) was so focused on keeping Louis together and trying to protect him that he doesn’t even realize that Daniel is remembering him.

Until 2x04.

Daniel brings up the fire.

Armand tries to read his mind to see where he got the information from.

And he sees a flash of himself watching TV in the 70s. And that’s when he realizes Daniel DID love him. If Daniel didn’t why would he be getting flashes of Armand. Not of Louis and the first interview… not of Louis attacking him… no, he’s getting flashes of Armand.

Then he remembers that he suppressed Louis’ memory of everything to do with Claudia’s death (Louis’ main trigger). Louis confused: “the fire?”

As Daniel’s memories come back… so do Louis’. However the more Louis remembers the more unstable he’ll become. I think at a certain point when he remembers everything the suicidal part of him with reach a climax… he’ll snap. Blackout with Daniel in a parallel of what happened in 1973. And Armand is going to have no choice but to save Daniel. I feel like Lestat will sense this happening and I feel like it’ll be the PERFECT segue for present time Lestat. Now will Daniel be hurt badly? I’m not sure. Will Armand have no choice but to change him because Louis hurt him too much, maybe tried to drain him to “get back” at Armand after realizing what was happening?

Is that why Jacob is scared we may hate Louis by the end of the season? I feel like if it was just Louis trying to walk into the sun that comment wouldn’t make sense.

If he tries to hurt Daniel though…..

[ojcobsessed]

Few actors have endured as fraught a journey as Oliver Jackson-Cohen. Few actors are more in demand than the star of The Haunting of Hill House and Jackdaw

by Maeve Ryan

OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN HAS been doing this a while. He decided to act at the age of six. Joined a theatre troupe and began to climb. He continued until university but didn’t get into any drama schools. Throughout our conversation, he tells me there were no signs pointing him in this direction, no surefire chance at success. But he’s found it, and then some.

He rose to prominence with his highly acclaimed portrayal of Luke Crain in Mike Flanagan’s The Haunting of Hill House. 

A character that battled a heroin addiction to cope with past traumas, though addiction was the least interesting thing about him. The show featured stars of the past, and launched new ones into the present, Oliver Jackson-Cohen being one of them. The role of Luke changed the course of his life – for more reasons than one. 

It was the first time in his life he no longer had to hide, he tells me. “I could be as fragile as I felt.” He took his newfound Netflix fame and began to carve a path that finally aligned with who he was, not who the world wanted him to be.

Now, he takes centre stage in Jamie Dobb’s new film Jackdaw. When he read the script, he thought he was the last man for the job. When Dobb explained the hyper masculine lead needed someone to bring softness behind it, he signed on.

Jackson-Cohen’s career, and presence, proves that the strength of a man lies in his ability to go beyond society’s standards. He breaks the stereotypes like bread over a long conversation in Soho. We discuss his entrance into the industry, facing traumas, and finding a safe place to land.

sm: What was the first movie you ever saw that made you want to act?

o-jc: Home Alone. I remember seeing that film and saying, oh whoa, so a kid can do this? I remember telling my dad, ‘I think I want to do that.’ I was six or seven. 

But it gets dark. So, my mum and dad’s house had a bay window that was on the street. And when I came home from school for a week, I just sat in the window thinking, any minute now, someone from Home Alone is going to walk past, and go, there’s a kid! Let’s get him! I was willingly wanting to get kidnapped. Which is so fucked. My dad came home and was like, ‘What are you doing?’ And then he was like, ‘Yeah, that’s not how that works.’

We found a theatre program – I started going there when I was eight. I was never the golden kid. In the drama clubs, I was always like the snake in the background. Or just the scenery. We used to put on terrible plays. I was such an insular kid. I found a safe place to feel where it’s real, but it’s not. So you can experience it all. I did that for three years, and then I was kicked out.

sm: What! Why?

oj-c: I had an attitude or something like that. I got suspended so many times. I genuinely was not looking for trouble. I was always the one to get caught. Like, I was the kid who someone handed the knife to, and I’d be standing above the dead body, and then the next thing I knew it was 20 years in prison. It was always stuff like that. But it was time to move on anyway.

I found this drama school at Riverside Studios. It was a small group, maybe eight or nine people. It was so interesting, because I’m going to do a gross name drop, but in the group was Carey Mulligan and Imogen Poots. It was incredible.

sm: Those were the kids that were just there? Did you have to audition?

oj-c: No, but I did a trial. It was a lot of devised stuff, like improv. A guy named Andrew Bradford ran it. He really supported kids. It was all day Saturday. We were all teenagers. It felt like another life. It grew and grew and by the time I left I was 17 or 18. It wasn’t one of those places that you were beaten down. No fake bullshit. It was a safe place to try stuff. We’d put on plays and we all got agents from that as kids.

sm: Is that the moment you look back on and think of as the beginning?

oj-c: I think so. But it was such a long period of time. Career wise, it was quite stagnant. I did one job when I was 15 that was some late night soap. Then I didn’t do anything until I was 18. I wasn’t like this is real until later. It started to snowball when I finished school. I went to get a French lit degree, hated it, dropped out, and applied to drama school. I didn’t get in anywhere.

In the meantime, there was a job at the BBC for a silly period drama. I did that, took the money, and went to do a foundation in New York at Strasberg.

sm: Tell me about the audition for drama school. You didn’t get in anywhere?

oj-c: Yes. I’m telling you there were no signs that pointed to me saying, yeah, you’re quite good at this. It felt like everyone was saying, ‘don’t do it.’ Which is a really interesting place to start from. If no one around me believes in me, how do I? And I just keep going? It was a mix of delusion and stupidity.

sm: Did you think about doing something else?

oj-c: When I was still in high school, I worked as a runner on productions, mainly at the BBC. I was revolving through that so when I finished school, that was kinda my job.. I got to see the inner workings of how sets worked, rehearsal periods. I got to see the writers and the actors, how they would construct a joke, and adjust things.

When I was 17, I started doing the European Music Awards. I would go and work in the costume department, I didn’t fucking know anything about how to sew on a bun but it was amazing. I got such a solid understanding of how a production office works, how a schedule works.

Tragically, you see a lot of how an actor is a small cog in this machine. Everyone is working so diligently. This whole idea of superiority that can go on, it was important for me to witness early on. Because when you go onto set and someone says five minutes, it actually means five minutes. But it was also hard because I was watching people do what I love. I didn’t get into school, so I said fuck it, I’m gonna do a foundation for a year and reapply to drama school from New York.

sm: Why choose the Strasberg program?

oj-c: Someone told me about it. I thought I needed to go do something that gives me a playground, a space in the meantime. But when I got there, I was with this small agency, and they started sending me out on auditions. The first or second one I went on, they flew me to LA to do a screen test and I got it. This was six weeks into the program. I was like: what do I do?

sm: What did you decide?

oj-c: There were three or four movies I got, but then the financial crash happened and it all fell apart. So I went back to New York to continue with the program. But meanwhile, I had been signed to WME and my agents were like, let’s go down the studio route because that’s going to be fun. I got an audition for this Drew Barrymore movie, got that, and then I dropped out. Then got another job that moved me to LA. I was there for a year shooting and doing the prep for that.

The whole idea was that I’d do that and reapply to drama school. Then I kept on booking. It’s only in the past couple years I was like, thank fuck I didn’t stop. There were moments that I thought I needed to stop and do three years of training.

sm: Did you feel like you were missing something that other people had?

oj-c: I felt like I was back-footed. Like I had no idea what I was doing, then I realised no one does. There is no arrival point where you’re like, ‘I know how to act!’ A lot of it was becoming comfortable with learning and making mistakes. Some will hurt and some don’t matter.

sm: So you start booking jobs, and then it just keeps going? No break?

oj-c: There’s obviously periods where you’re out of work. Or you really want a job and you do 50 auditions for it and you don’t get it. A lot of that went on. But I was 22. I ended up staying in New York until I was 28. I felt like a deer in the headlights. I was just so grateful that I was working and that people wanted to hire me that I never stopped to ask if it was actually fulfilling.

I listened to a lot of people early on. I needed guidance. I needed someone to say, do this job, this will lead to this, or it’s important you work with this person. Then I woke up one day and was like, is there anything here that I’m actually proud of?

That comes with experience and maybe a little bit of delusional confidence where you go, I think I want to try and do something here that is more aligned with me. It was a weird time to be in LA. I’m six foot three. I look a certain way. People wanted the product. I thought that was how I’d get there. I’ll pretend to be confident, I’ll be a version of what these people want. Keep my mouth shut and pretend. I reached a point where I was like, I cannot keep going this way.

sm: Did you feel that you’d abandoned yourself? Or was it a slow realisation?

oj-c: It became harder and harder to pretend to be this chill guy. I’m not chill. But when you’re handed something, you go, this is fun. Then the more you read and become accustomed to the environment you’re in, you start to feel entitled to have an opinion. To feel entitled enough to say: I actually don’t like this, I actually find this quite soul destroying. Having to make myself small, or block myself off and not be as vulnerable as I feel. To not show that.

It was an interesting time – in the late 2000s, men were men and what I was being asked to do was be an idea of what a tall, white, masculine man was that sort of never really sat. I actually feel really fragile. So I took a break for six months. I was like, I’m just going to say no now and try to re-shape the direction of what I want to do. Then The Haunting of Hill House came along.

sm: How did that audition happen?

oj-c: I’d done a film with the producer before. They sent me a conversation that happens in the show between Luke and his twin sister, it was him asking her to get him drugs. They asked me to read that and literally the following day, they called me and were like yep, you.

means something to people. It was an amazing thing to be a part of.

sm: Did you immediately recognise that Luke was the kind of character you were looking to play on the page?

oj-c: Sort of. If I’m honest, I did quite a lot with the role. Mike was very open to collaborating. I put a lot of stuff in there that wasn’t necessarily there originally.

All of the siblings were there but they were sort of blank canvases for anyone to put whatever they needed to put in it. We all came in and made bigger choices to create this family dynamic. They brought on this incredible writer, Scott Kosar, who wrote The Machinist, to tackle the Luke character because he was in recovery at the time.

sm: The writer was in recovery?

oj-c: Yes. He tackled all those monologues about staying clean and everything. That was him. You know, you’re talking about a family that lived in a haunted house, that’s sort of a silly premise but all the substitutions that everyone did, it was all about trauma. Living and being followed by things unless you face them. 

sm: What did you bring to the Luke character that wouldn’t have been there if somebody else played it?

oj-c: Someone else would have brought something amazing to it. But Mike Flanagan had so many tapes come through of people playing the addiction, and you can’t play the addiction. When I first looked at Luke I was like, okay, he’s a heroin addict, but then I was like, actually, to put a label on that, to label him, does such a disservice.

So it became about what he was running from, and what was terrorising him. For me, it became about childhood sexual abuse. How do you escape this thing you don’t want to feel? And if you can’t keep it at bay, it will take over. It became about that struggle, not ‘I need my fix.’ It became about this terrorising thing that’s always present, which translates into the show. We all have things that follow us. It became about trying to humanise it and make it real by using that as a way in.

sm: You’ve been open on social media about the sexual abuse you faced as a child. How did you navigate acting something so close to home?

oj-c: I’m of the school of thought: use whatever is real for you. That’s why I do the job. A lot of us use our own personal experience, but we bring it to a safe space where it’s okay for us to experience it. In a way it calls for that, and it felt important to do for the show.

I come back to this idea of needing to stop and reassess what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go, and what I wanted to say in the work that I do. I felt like I couldn’t keep hiding. We’re all complicated, we’ve all had complicated upbringings. That’s just part of life. It’s unfortunate, but it’s sort of always going to be a mess. I needed to put everything that I felt into something. I do that all the time.

We use the parts of yourselves. Including the darker parts, and some of the stuff we don’t want to look at. I’ve never been one of those people to go half on something. You either do it or you don’t. There’s no middle ground. I’m not going to half step in, or pretend.

sm: Did you have any practices while filming to help you not carry the hurt from that world into your own?

oj-c: What was interesting was that all of that sadness was in there anyway. I wasn’t generating any of it, I was just opening it up. I didn’t whip myself up into a frenzy. It just felt like I didn’t have to hide, or pretend it wasn’t there.

sm: Would you say acting has been healing for you?

oj-c: I don’t think the word healing is correct. But it’s been incredibly helpful in helping me understand myself better. It’s probably not the healthiest but I’ve said this before, I feel like I need the job to lay out all my neuroses and vulnerability. I keep myself so closed off in real life. It’s an outlet that feels necessary. That’s why I go off to work every couple days.

sm: You are cast in a lot of thrillers and horrors. Why do you think you mesh well with that genre as an actor?

oj-c: You know, after I did Haunting of Hill House, it was sort of this big thing where the amount of horror scripts that came through was crazy. The amount of, ‘do you want to play a drug addict?’ It’s incredible how desperate people are to put us into boxes.

After Hill House, I did The Invisible Man. That was a horror but the messaging - we’re talking about gaslighting, we’re talking about toxic relationships to an extreme. It was so much more than a scary film. It felt like it had something to say. That’s the thing about horror. When it’s done well, it’s incredibly impactful.

sm: After Hill House, did you feel you had agency when choosing your roles?

oj-c: To a certain extent. But no matter where you’re at: the job you want, they don’t want you. You can be Julianne Moore, but they’d rather have someone else. It’s constant. But it did change quite a lot. In terms of becoming Netflix famous, which is the strangest, most intense thing ever because you’re the most famous person on the planet and then something else comes out. I felt like I was in a fortunate space where I could choose more, but there were films that I really wanted that I didn’t get.

sm: I heard that when you first read the Jackdaw script, you didn’t think you were right for the role?

oj-c: Yes. I called the director Jamie Childs and told him he was nuts. Because again, here’s this hyper masculine man that felt quite robotic on the page. I met Jamie on the set of Wilderness. He was telling me, ‘I’ve written this movie. I’d love to get your feedback on it.’ So I read it. It was still an early draft. Then he said, ‘Do you want to do it?’ I genuinely thought I wasn’t the right fit. I thought it was just out of convenience that he wanted me.

He said to me, ‘It needs someone to come in and make it human. To give it vulnerability.’ He said the film is about how this man readjusts his life following the death of his mum, and I was like, sold! You need some tears? I’ll bring you tears! I’m never leaving my sad boy era. It happened so quickly. We wrapped Wilderness, and then started filming three and a half weeks later. We were up north in January.

sm: You go swimming in the North Sea quite a bit in the film…

oj-c: Oh yeah. It got to like minus nine. It ended with me getting hypothermia. I think I’m a bit too delicate, that’s why. I had this amazing stunt guy called Jamie Dobbs who’s this gold motor-cross champion, and we had to shoot all this stuff of us in the night. They’d get me on a rig, and then they’d get Jamie and it got to minus 12. He got frostbite on his face. It was unbelievable. It was all night shoots. I am so surprised we all made it out alive.

sm: Had you ever cold plunged before?

oj-c: Not at all. I’m one of those people in August that’s like, I don’t know if I want to go in the sea, it looks a bit cold. We did three days on the water. Some of it was in a kayak. The underwater stuff, that’s where it got brutal. We were all eating every 25 minutes because we were so cold. There was a boat just for food. I couldn’t name one thing we ate. It was just fuel. We were going to work at 5pm, and then wrapping in the morning.

sm: Do you often try new things on film sets that you’d never do otherwise?

oj-c: Yes, all the time! That’s part of the allure of it. You get to learn all these weird things that you’d never do. You get to experience these amazing things. I’ve been doing this for so long, because I’m 150 years old, and someone will bring something up and I’ll be like, oh I’ve done that! But then I’m like wait no I didn’t, the character did.

sm: Was there anything else you learned on the set of Jackdaw? Motorcross?

oj-c: Yes! I fucking loved it. If I’m honest, a lot of it is me jumping on and starting up and then getting out of frame. Insurance-wise, I couldn’t do any of the jumps or anything. But it is so great. There is nothing quite like it.

sm: Do you ever think you’ll get into the writing side of film?

oj-c: I have. I just don’t know what I have to say yet. Everyone reaches a point where they think, I don’t want to forever be a product. It would be nice to be part of the creative. I have a lot of opinions.

You go into a job with the best intentions. This is what they’ve told us, this is what’s been sold and then you’ll see the final product and be like: that’s not at all what I thought it would be. The more you do it, the more you feel like you know what you actually like and what you want to be part of. I’ll get to it at some point.

Jackdaw is in cinemas now.

[onlylove4louis]

I want to talk about the "You picked another one over me scene", but from the viewpoint of someone that doesn't hate Louis... (S2E4 Spoilers)

If you haven't seen the newest episode yet and don't want spoilers, scroll right past this post 👌🏽

So this scene:

She was wrong for this, and I will die on that hill. (not wrong completely for what she's saying, but for everything she's doing here)

It's a bizarre thing to come across so many people who would ritualistically dance on Lestats grave for his abusing Louis & Claudia, but then when it comes to Claudia being abusive towards Louis, suddenly abuse and poor treatment is "okay". He has no right to even so much as be mad at her, but she can treat him like garbage and verbally/emotionally abuse and neglect him for years and it's okay. She can come in and unload/explode on him, and destroy his property whenever she wants, simply because what she chose isn't working out for her anymore. And the coven master she told him was "safe" based solely on the color of his skin, is in fact not safe. And somehow that's okay. It's not.

She has no right to treat him however she wants, just because she's pissed off. And nor does he. His wrongs do not make it "okay" and I'd say the same thing for her, if Louis ever did this to her.

I wanna start from the beginning, which is to take it back just prior to this, for both of them.

Prior to this for Louis: He's actively going through an existential crisis, and is still battling actual insanity. But what is happening in this scene, and the tragedy of this scene:

Is that once again, Louis is realizing that he has to sacrifice something, that has been bringing him momentary happiness and a sense of peace, etc. Due to being a Vampire. He once again, because he can't help it, it's who and what he is. Was reaching out for humanity, attempting to keep some sort of connection with the human world. It's one of the reasons why his photography is such a problem and point of scorn, mockery and disdain for everyone else. Because it's a very human thing, it keeps him amongst the humans and not at the theatre. It sets him apart from them, and they don't like it. I digress, what's happening here, and why he's essentially giving up and burning his photos. Is because he's realizing it's just yet another thing he will never properly be able to do, something he cannot have. Because he's a Vampire.

(Yes, it's not the only thing that's going on in this scene. Or the only takeaway of this scene. But it is the thing that has Louis in such a vulnerable position. A low point if you will, when Claudia comes raging through the door)

Now, to what just happened to Claudia prior, that prompted her to come take out everything on Louis, like a punching bag. Because she can't take it out on anyone else, is:

I'm not going to add a picture or a gif, because it pisses me off too much. But Claudia (along with Santiago) are both reprimanded by their coven master (Armand). She's caught breaking another Vampire Law and shirking her coven/theatre responsibilities, along with the knowledge that she's sitting on various other broken laws already. Of which Armand has kept. Runs her mouth to the coven master, and he loses it with her. Also because like he implies, he's been giving her more leeway and freedoms, than he would or has with anyone else, and that any other coven master (save for Lestat) would. And then with Santiago. The rose colored blinders she had put on going into this, completely shattered. And the consequences of her own choices and actions are catching up to her and she's no longer having a good time. The dream/delusion has been popped and now it's withering away. And she's coming back to reality, and being forced to remember that reality, is garbage.

(Mentally tossing Armand into a furnace because we all know damn well, that wasn't ONLY because he's trying to regain control of his coven.)

Que, her heading straight for the only person that she can verbally beat on and blame for everything, because very much like his Mother, she needs to put it "somewhere". And she puts it all on Louis, because no one else would just tolerate it. Literally no one else would take it, but him.

So now, here we are, back to the scene at hand. Louis is in a very low, vulnerable spot. And Claudia is pissed, hurt and needing to dump on someone

I wont say too much here about the actual words exchanged. Because they're both wrong and they're both right. They're both actively seeking companionship outside of the other, they're both choosing others over eachother. They're both making mistakes and they're both messing up and they're both dealing with the consequences. Love makes everyone stupid and weak and fickle, etc. 'You and Me' becoming 'Him and you' is ALSO becoming 'them and you' and 'her and you'. He didn't tell her about Armand knowing everything since day one, she still hasn't told him about her numerous one on one convo's with Santiago, who due to her poor choices. Caught her breaking another Vampire law, and now knows that she writes about everything she experiences. Including what she (or they) did to their Maker, in her diaries. They're both failing eachother and they're both resentful of eachother, both for valid reasons. Neither one of them is an adequate companion for the other, they both need someone else, and the degradation of their relationship is coming from BOTH sides. Fault and responsibility is on them both and they both had every right and reason to say what they did in this moment.

Funny enough, but not surprising that I have yet to see anyone note. That her dislike of his "hobby" is very reminiscent of Lestats dislike of his affinity for books. Both, take his time and attention away from them, so they hate it.

But what I actually want to point out here, because there's so many things in each episode that I'm not really seeing people talk about is:

Claudia's assumption that Louis "filled in the details" of what happened to Lestat. She accuses him of basically telling Armand, what I personally think, is going to be revealed as the truth. And that's that Claudia is the one who both poisoned and cut Lestats throat. Now I could be wrong, but personally the assumed "betrayal" that Claudia is feeling in this scene, is not that Louis didn't tell her that Armand has known this whole time. But instead that she thinks Louis basically ratted on her. I think she thinks Louis broke and told him the "truth" of what really happened, that she's the one who did it. And I think that is what her actual anger/hurt is about, I.E him "choosing" Armand over her. She thinks that he chose to tell Armand their "secret" because his "love" and his desperation for love in general is making him "stupid" again.

But because she's so focused on herself, and this coven and what she's going through, and discovering Madeline that she doesn't see that he clearly doesn't "love" Armand. And, she's having such a shitty time here, that she doesn't even consider that he may be actually doing what he can to protect her, behind the scenes. Meaning, instead of confirming what Armand already clearly knows, that it was in fact all her. He instead said it was him. That he did it. Not even just that he "helped" but that he was the one who did the whole thing, alone. And straight out said that she did not even help. He saying "chasing it chasing it..." followed by "except he just threatened me with it. I think is actually her thinking that in chasing love from Armand, he told him that she's the one who killed Lestat and that the only reason Armand knows what she did to her maker, is because Louis told him. Which in reality, he didn't.

And now, thanks to Claudias carelessness, Santiago knows. And the mutinous coven has concrete proof of what she/they did. (or at least, that's what Armand has Louis believing, and is now telling Daniel/us)

Literally no one is getting the full picture here. And sadly, these two are so at odds with eachother and so disconnected with eachother and resentful of eachother, that they're not communicating. And it's the lack of proper communication, and the lack of unity. Is why they both, separately keep fucking up.

Last but not least, just a throw in. It makes perfect sense why Louis wouldn't immediately believe that Armand actually threatened her. But even I had to scream into a pillow in frustration for that. The same way I have to scream every single time she falls for Santiagos manipulations. He's putting trust in Armand only because he believes he has an upper hand, as well as being a result of it being years and Armand still sitting on their secret. And Claudia's putting trust in Santiago, because unfortunately her desperation is making her susceptible to his manipulations. And again, she thinks she still has the upper hand, at least when it comes to lying and manipulating. And these particular failures on both their parts, are gonna bite them in the ass.

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

https://www.tumblr.com/sizzlingpatrolfox/758487328999243776/so-was-jimin-supposed-to-go-after-him-always?source=share

Have you ever had that type of friend where you feel like you're the one carrying the friendship and the moment you stop trying you and this friend wouldn't see each other anymore? Jimin saying that if he didn't go to the US when he did the show wouldn't have happened doesn't surprise me. Remember the whole dance video thing last year and how Jungkook acted like the other members wouldn't want to do it with him when we all know they would've if he just asked?

I think he's that type of person that never initiates anything, he's just always waiting for other people to start things for him. I mean, he's even like that with his carrer. The fact that as early as beginning of 2022 Jimin was already working on his album, but a whole year after that by the beginning of 2023 and Jungkook still didn't seem to have any plans. If it wasn't for SB he wouldn't even have released an album.

I was thinking that I don't know how Jimin has the patience for him then I remembered my younger sibling is the same way where I always have to be the one to seek them out. So I get it Jimin, is that older sibling life. Which is fine when it's your sibling, but if this was my boyfriend there's no way I would let that shit slide. And that really sums up their relationship to me: Mostly fine for a friendship but shitty for a romantic relationship.

You've made several points.. especially the one about the dance challenges which I hadn't thought about now these days, but I remember that when he said that I wrote about how he was obviously lying and he didn't even ask the members to make a video with him. He just didn't ask them, the way I'm 10000% sure he never texted Jimin personally, or "formally" invited him over. I mean, not while he was on live.

The night JK went live and fell asleep with the camera on he said he didn't have anything to do the next day. If I recall correctly it was the same night he went to the theatre with wooga, then went back home and passed out drunk.

That same night Jimin was posting Instagram stories from his home, watching Hoseok and Yoongi videos. If I recall correctly, the next day he went to visit Jin with Hoseok. Later, he said they'd gone to see him because both him and Hoseok had that day off.

If you're in touch with someone you'd know if not only one but two of people who are supposedly close to you are going to meet another friend. He could've gone visit Jin as well.

People think all that started in March 2023 when it had been happening since long before. August 2022, Jimin spent like three weeks in the USA? Then he flew back to Korea and that same night, Jungkook was out eating with some people. So for the people who think they're dating, Jimin's away for like a month and his boyfriend doesn't get dinner with him when he arrives? Before world cup openings ceremony too, Jungkook went bowling with Taehyung. Around those same days they were together at the paradise hotel.

So Jungkook has time to hook up with women at his home, but not to grab dinner with Jimin?

I really can't fathom the level of self deception those who believe they're boyfriends must be putting themselves through. It's not 2+2 at this point, it's 2+2+2+2+2+2 like. There are so many factors.

I also found these posts, I took screenshots because I have to click everywhere on my phone to add the link and this is easier. But these are from March 3rd 2023.

I also remember briefly bringing up Tom Holland and Zendaya, you know, a real couple. And how they were seen together more times than jikook were seen together in two years, and Tom and Zendaya don't even live in the same continent lol. I think I got some anons trying to lecture ME on queer people and how to live like a queer person in a gay relationship, compared to disgusting heteros like tomdaya.

Anyways. I really don't think I'll reply to more asks about this because it's so repetitive. There really isn't much to say. They aren't dating each other, they're just very dear friends, obviously.

Finally.. Does anyone have the screenshot of Hoseok's ig story on his birthday last year? I'm almost scared I might've dreamed it because I can't find it anywhere but I'm sure he posted a picture of a cake or flowers? and tagged Jimin, as if Jimin had brought those to him the night of his birthday, after the live in the company.

[time-lord-hilarious]

A random IWTV speculation but has Armand been trying to erase traces of his existence from the human world after a certain point in history?

Claudia’s diaries have his name specifically removes, he and Louis seem to have collected remaining theatre pamphlets (a theatre that’s fully burnt down at that). Daniel’s memory seems to be altered to forget specifically Armand - the dream about Mary’s cuts off directly before he steps in, and Louis seems to be amused by this fact. When Daniel states “you were there” after Armand reveals himself Louis asks “you don’t remember, do you?” which is something that’s been plenty established. The tapes shipped to Daniel have absolutely no trace of his presence, but we see him turning on the recorder in season 2 preview that aired after 2x01 (did he make a separate tape with his voice on it that they didn’t share with Daniel at all, tucked away somewhere in the safety of their house, not to be given to Daniel or any third party to get it to NYC to him?)

Now I know that all of these could have different explanations. 

Louis and Armand could’ve made an agreement to remove the pages for a great number of reasons. After all even if Louis does not realise the nature of Armand’s involvement in Claudia’s death she made it known to him that she felt abandoned because of Armand, so maybe it was necessary to remove them to keep their love and relationship going and get past that for the sake of Louis’ sanity. Daniel thing could easily be Armand deeply traumatising him on the night of the first interview where it would be needed to additionally permanently remove Armand  from his memory as an entity separate from the interview, and/or a memory wipe of some rendition of a DM scenario. Theatre pamphlets could be a mere archiving effort regarding Armand’s long life. The tapes with Armand’s voice on it might not be relevant to Louis’ story.

But I still thing it’s interesting that Louis is more public with his name, putting it on cards in 70s, presumably transportation and other bills, post shipping etc. And Armand used a specific person as a disguise instead of introducing himself as servant Armand or devising a new persona. Louis also tried and failed to stop him from revealing himself. 

So I really wonder if this could potentially have something to do with the Talamasca too.

Also this would make him going on the record for the interview very dangerous.

[autistpride]

Autism Acceptance

Dancer AU from April's prompts by @wolfstarmicrofic

Wordcount: 1000

Remus was both excited and nervous about the Riverdance show he was attending that afternoon with Mary. He had been interested in Irish dance since Mary, Lily, and he had seen some small students perform for St. Patricks day earlier that month. 

So when Remus got tickets to see an actual performance at the theatre in London from Mary for his birthday, he was first confused and unsure what that meant, looking at the two small papers with the theatre name and date. Until Mary explained what they were and let him process. When he finally processed what would be happening he squealed and jumped around the room, hugging Mary many times. 

The days moved quickly leading up to the trip. Mary checked with him multiple times to make sure he had everything in his shoulder bag and then once more when she picked him up. 

“Gloves, hat, keys, phone, book, notebook, pencil, pen, tissues, rescue meds, handkerchief, rescue meds, fidgets?” 

“Yes I got everything! I even have an extra battery so I can take pictures.I have my umbrella and I have a waterbottle and a snack too.” Remus said proud of himself for remembering the extras because of the potential weather and the length of time they would be out. 

Mary laughed, “Sorry love, I just wanted to make sure we were prepared so you wouldn’t feel upset when you realised you left something.”

Remus had stared out the door when Mary stopped him. “Remus, are you forgetting anything?”

Remus looked through his bag and ticked off the items on his fingers and then looked at Mary confused.

Mary mimed headphones and he gasped, running back inside to grab them before coming out with a nod. “Got everything!”

Mary smiled and nodded and to the train they went.

The ride was uneventful and arrived with only a minor delay. They waited for fifteen minutes for their next train and debated walking or taking the bus on the last leg. They decided on walking so Remus could release the nervous energy he was slowly building up and wouldn’t be able to pace around the theatre once they took their seats. 

It wasn’t far, near a half mile, but it gave Remus just enough time to relax. 

They showed their tickets at the ticket counter and got their stubs back. Mary had paid for them to get early entrance. They were able to enter early before the crowd, find their seats, and settle in before the mass of people. She also paid for them to meet the dancers after the show, if Remus had wanted, but either way it allowed them to stay in their seats until after the general admission had left and could leave once it was no longer busy. She had told Remus there was no pressure to meet anyone, they would do what he wanted.

So they settled into their seats, Remus put his headphones on, and opened up his book to read while they waited.

When the lights dimmed, Remus startled, but Mary’s smile reassured him that the show would be starting soon and it was time to get ready. So he put his book away and pulled out his small coin bag of fidgets so he could work through them as needed during the performance. 

Then the music began and Remus was wide eyed and in awe, hardly moving and trying not to blink for fear of missing anything. He had never sat so still in his entire life and during the intermission Mary pointed that out teasingly while Remus wiggled around near her. 

When it ended and the curtain closed, Remus stood with the rest of the crowd and screamed and clapped and jumped up and down. He loved every moment. He whispered to Mary that he absolutely wanted to meet some of the dancers if they still could and Mary held his hand as they made their way behind the stage to the meet and greet area. 

Remus gasped and froze up when one of the male dancers made their way over to them. He had beautiful black hair, tied back, and his shirt was open revealing his chest. 

“Hiya! I'm Sirius, one of the lead male dancers. Did you like the show?”

Remus stared.

Mary nudged him and Remus blushed deeply and nodded his head, unsure what to say. What does one say to someone built like a Greek god, danced like a nymph, and whose voice was like Remus’ own personal siren?

Mary, always one to champion for him, stepped in thinking he was overwhelmed and explained that Remus was autistic and likely nonspeaking right then because he was overstimulated but had been so excited to come back after the show. That he had loved the show, so had she. 

Sirius was so nice, smiling and motioning them to follow him to a quieter room that had a sofa and lowering his voice. He even offered to just write back and forth with Remus’ if he preferred that. Remus shook his head no because he had no idea what to even say in the first place, let alone what to write. 

Remus held out his notepad that had some of the questions and comments he had made during the performance. Sirius read them one at a time, taking the time to respond to each and every one, even if it was a simple thank you.

A shrill sound echoed in the room and Remus was quick to cover his ears. Mary apologised and stepped from the room, answering quickly.

Sirius pulled out his own headphones and popped them over Remus' ears and signed sorry to him. Remus blushed and gently patted over his ears before noticing Sirius' bracelet, a cord with the beautiful turquoise to green followed by white and blue to purple flag on it.

Remus looked up at Sirius and quickly pulled the sleeve of his jumper up, revealing the same one on his own wrist. 

Sirius blushed. 

[hellfireclubmember]

Secret Nerd PT 2

Someone requested this and I can't find the ask so I am sorry. I'm also sorry for literally taking forever to get to it.

part 1

Summary: Eddie, who may or may not be in love with you, finds out you like LOTR.

Warning(s): lots of steve fluff but eddie angst, unrequited love, not proof read

pairing(s): boyfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader, platonic!in love!eddie munson x fem!reader

w/c: 1.6k

Siouxsie and the Banshees was softly playing through the dimly lit shop. The stacks of new records were beginning to lose their height as you sorted them out into their appropriate bins. There was dust in the air from the number of bins you were kicking out of the way. Usually there was someone to help you with the heavy lifting, but it was 10 AM on a Tuesday. A time void of customers.

“(Y/N)!!” Eddie’s voice boomed through the store.

There was something almost pathetic about how fast a smile appeared on your face when you heard him. You loved it when Eddie visited you at work. He always made your shift go by at Mach speeds. He helped you on inventory days, walking around holding piles of records all whilst giving you free music advice. Which was really just him complaining about anything you put on the loudspeaker. Because according to the dramatic mop of hair, ‘your music taste would be perfect if you just cut out all the moody, creepy whining.’

“I know you’re in here, short stack! Only you would be playing Siouxsie.” You could hear the eyeroll from across the store.

“Yeah, whatever, act like I haven’t seen you nod your head to Happy House.” You walked onto the main floor where Eddie was sitting on the counter, next to the Madonna cassettes. “Nice of you to come see me, Edward.”

“No need to continue the act, (Y/L/N).” His face was stone cold, eyes blank. Last time he looked that severe, he was being told that Hellfire couldn’t use the theatre room because the basketball team had booked it last second. Not a good day to be around Hellfire’s dungeon master. Mike, Dustin and Lucas avoided him for two days, just to be safe.

“You don’t have to pretend to be friends with me any longer; for I have been told the truth.” He hopped off the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, covering the Megadeth graphic plastered on his black tee. “The lady lies.”

“Me lady?” You pointed your finger to your chest, confused as you could be. “I lie?” Brows furrowed as you thought of any fib you might’ve muttered out lately.

“You lie! If we were friends, you would’ve never kept your love for Lord of the Rings from me!” he exclaimed, hand on his forehead. In that moment, the appreciation you had for Eddie’s dramatics had been replaced with a strong urge to kill. You should’ve guessed it though; it had been exactly one day and one night since you had admitted it to Dustin. And Dustin is a HUGE blabber mouth. The boy did not stop.

“Ah, heard about that huh?”

“Yeah, I heard about that.” He rudely mimicked your voice and glared at you. “This entire time, when I was holding stacks of Duran Duran for you, we could’ve been talking about Boromir’s heroic sacrifice.” It was taking everything in Eddie not to crack. He couldn’t stop thinking about how cute you look all pouty. You were all frown lines and crossed arms.

The small crush Eddie had on you seemed to grow at speeds that would leave NASA’s head spinning. When you were first introduced, he didn’t think much of you. Some chick he saw at school occasionally, walking with Nancy or laughing with faceless losers. You were one of the rare people that didn’t move to the other side of the hallway when he walked by, so he definitely remembered you when Dustin was pushing him toward the group. He already knew you were dating Steve, how could he not? ‘Steve’s girlfriend’ was your identifier. And back then, there was nothing he cared less about. Currently it’s something that didn’t let him sleep at night.

Eddie was never sure what love would feel like; and now he knew what both love and heartbreak felt like. Even so, he was never truly sad, not when he could spend time with you like this. The faux vexed look you were forcing onto your face was enough to crush any self-pity swelling in his chest. Besides, he knew that there was no way he had a chance. You loved Steve, and Eddie knew there was no one else you would rather love.

“You would be a Boromir kind of guy.”

Eddie held his hand over his chest as if he were hit with an arrow. “A woman after my own heart.” He fell onto the counter he was previously sitting on.

“Where’s my pretty girl?” The voice of the sandy haired man was heard before he was seen. Eddie watched your eyes light up before you walked around the counter toward the door.

“Hi, Stevie.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. Steve was like a giant, human Xanax. He made every muscle in your body relax, every racing thought slow down. You squeezed him tight and took a deep breath. Steve loved your hugs. You hugged him as if he had gone away for years at a time.

Steve’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, and he kissed the top of your head. “I missed you.”

“Aw I missed you more, Harrington.” Eddie stood behind you. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was trying his best to look as big as possible. Even if he did know you loved Steve, it did not keep him from messing with him as often as he could.

There was really very little things Eddie could do about the pesky feelings that clawed at his chest when your eyes reached his. He knew that at some point they would slowly fizzle out, like the bubbles in his favorite beer. But for now, he was going to enjoy them. Enjoy looking at you smile, hearing you laugh, rolling your eyes, even putting away those annoying records and cassettes. Even if the image of you stuck to Harrington chunked away at his health. He was used to piecing his heart back together with the scraps of time he could spend with you. Eddie knew what his role was in life and getting the girl wasn’t part of it. It was devastating but his songs had never been better.

You felt Steve’s body tense up. “Man, you’re in here a lot.” He kept a possessive arm around your shoulders. “You wouldn’t want my girl or anything, would you?”

Your head snapped up to look at your boyfriend. That was a really jerky thing to say. Something King Steve would say. Which is what was the most surprising bit, with all the effort Steve put in to distance himself with his asshole high school self. All his other moments of jealousy were pretty tame, cute even. But he was being a jerk to your friend, and it was very upsetting.

Eddie scoffed. “I could never. That would be really dumb of me, right?” He grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him, his lips placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. “I bid your farewell, fair maiden. I have dragons to slay and whatnot.”  

The sunlight from outside painted the walls of the record store once Eddie opened the door. The second he was out of ear shot you finally spoke to Steve.

“I hate it when you’re like that.” Steve looked over at you when he heard your voice, and your frown was like a shot to the heart. He was no stranger to your cute angry face, but he knew when you were really upset. That frown looks nothing like the one you shoot him when he steals some of your fries. And he knew why you were upset. He was being a douche bag. As he was saying the words, he knew they were very asshole things to say but he couldn’t stop it. Steve couldn’t help how angry Eddie’s heart eyes made him.

“C’mon baby. He was flirting with you.” He tried to reason with you, walking around the counter to where you were counting some cassettes. “He has to know he can’t have you. Even if you’re all nerdy too.”

“Steve, Eddie isn’t a threat to you.” You turned around to face him. “Just cuz we both like..”

“I know. God, I know he’s not. I’m not insecure, sweets.” He put his hand on your right hip. Looking down at you. “I know I was made for you ‘cus there’s no one out there that loves you like I do.” He let go of your hip and found your hand. A perfect fit, but he already knew that. If that thing about an invisible string was true, he knew you were both knotted up together. Like those impossible knots on your necklaces, the ones you have Steve work out for you.

The anger that you felt for Steve dissipated and turned to another familiar feeling. Adoration. Love. Loving Steve has been the easiest thing you have ever done. He made it so easy. With his honey coated words and his pretty pink lips that kiss away all your worries.

“I just wish you would be nice to Eddie. He’s done nothing but be good friend to me.” There was a part of Steve that knew you were right. He was a good friend, not just to you but to multiple of his own friends. But the part of him that knew he was in love with you made him want to pummel Eddie.

“I just hate that he thinks about you the way I do.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “It should be illegal. I should put in a word with Hop, get him arrested or something.” Another kiss on the tip of your nose. “In fact, get every loser that thinks they have a chance with you and through ‘em in jail.” Another kiss to your forehead. He saw the way you were biting back a smile when he pulled away.

“Just please stop being an asshole okay?” His finger found your sides and he started to poke, making you giggle and squirm away.

“If you insist, angel.” His lips pressed to yours for a long kiss.  

taglist: @slashersluttt @slurmp69 @sadbitchfangirl @actual-mom-steve-harrington @stylesyourmine @pennyllanne @johnricharddeacy

[paperlunamoth]

Something I think about a lot is how we basically don't have collective experiences with media on the level of Star Wars or Harry Potter or Spongebob anymore. Movies, shows, or books that basically everyone is familiar with, that most people within a given generation have seen or read, that everyone and their mother would understand references to, that are genre defining, that nestle themselves into our collective unconscious on a cultural level.

I've thought some on why I think this is. To start with, there is just. So. Much. Media being created and put out into the world now compared to the past. It's hard to have read the same book as your friend when there are hundreds of popular books at any given time instead of just a couple dozen or so. Add on to that that now people have easier access to international and translated media than ever before, further increasing the pool of media to engage with. And then there's the switch to streaming services. Now instead of there being a standard cable package that everyone except the wealthy and the poor are all getting their shows from, totalling only what, maybe a couple hundred different shows, there are now a dozen different streaming services, half of which have thousands of shows and movies available on them. Then there's the fact that people don't even really go to the movies anymore unless they really want the theatre experience for something that they think will be special. I've also wondered whether the increasing isolation and loneliness many people are struggling with nowadays is a contributing factor. It's hard for something to become astronomically popular without networks of friends getting each other into it and spreading their love of it to other networks of friends. I mean there's "going viral," something getting popular enough that most people have heard it mentioned once or twice, and then there's "people will look at you like you were raised in the woods if you don't know what this movie/show/book is," and I feel like we haven't had anything like the latter in the last decade, because, well, how could we, when you add all of these things up? And I'm not an expert or a genius, I'm certain there are still factors that I missed or elaborations to be made on what I did point out here.

I remember seeing a post on here awhile ago about how there will never be another cult classic, because everything that doesn't get popular enough and make enough money just gets canceled or deleted off of whatever platform was hosting it. And I'm starting to wonder if soon, we won't even have any regular classics.

[spiteful-crow]

Ok, but Jon? I can't be the only one who has noticed that he sounds pretty insecure in his diary whenever he is frustrated or generally not happy with the situation. I think it's worth mentioning because I feel it's an aspect of Jon, which rarely gets addressed. So imma address it now with these examples from the diary:

Sherlock knows I hate the time spent tediously scanning papers. I am certain he could do it faster. Is he trying to avoid me?

Sherry was supposed to help with my writing! He doesn't normally ignore me. Does he think I should get a 'real' job?

It only would have taken a couple of minutes to examine that sailor. Why didn't Sherry have a look? Is it because it wasn't his idea?

Recreating that last scene was torture. Sherlock knows I cannot do it by myself! Was he trying to make fun of me?

Did Sherlock even hear what I was saying? He seemed so distracted. None of his suggestions made sense.

Sherry just recalled the day we moved to the manor! The memories are coming back, but I feel unsettled. Am I getting old?

So what was the point telling him about our tree? Now Sherlock doesn't want to remember our childhood adventures? Then why are we here?

His Royal Highness Sherlock Holmes, the Great and Lazy, did not deign to fulfil my humble request. I should know better than to ask.

This is not gonna be some detailed meta, but things like "Is he even listening?", "Is he avoiding me?", "Is he making fun of me?", they make Jon feel so human. Because these are thoughts most of us have, but most of the time, he isn't the kind of a person you'd describe as anxious, at least not if you only focus on his endless enthusiasm and cheerfulness he displays.

Yet even something as small as spending too long in the archives makes him think Sherlock is doing it on purpose to avoid him and... it just makes me think that Jon, being Sherlock's other half, also pretty much carries Sherlock's insecurities as well.

Only, Jon puts it into words. He doesn't mind being vulnerable and speaking about his feelings when they are hurt. I think Sherlock is aware how easily Jon feels insecure about stuff, and he pretty much tries to intervene before such feelings arise. Hence this scene

I have said it so many times, but this scene sums their relationship up so perfectly! It's my favourite interaction of them. Sherlock is aware Jon hates being invisible because it makes him feel like less than real people (remember the Theatre memory and Jon's bitterness about it). But Sherlock can't really help Jon, Jon's nature can't be changed. The only thing Sherlock can do for Jon is to pay attention to him and to let him know that he is appreciated. There is a lot of banter between them and they even have a fight or two, but never does Sherlock imply that Jon is unwelcome or unwanted (until the end, that is, but that's a topic I won't address today💀). It's because Sherlock knows it doesn't take a lot for Jon to start to question his position in Sherlock's life and feel insecure about it. Jon depends on Sherlock's will entirely, and it's a sucky position to be in, and Sherlock acknowledges it and does the only thing he can to make it easier for Jon - he treats him with care and compassion.