#ITS SO. PERFECT. AT CAPTURING HIS INNATE SILLINESS

[jemmo]

I need us as a society to talk more about ohm's amazing acting choices for pat and I love all the posts I read this week and in particular the complexity he added to him. THE LAYERS. but you know the layer I love the most? His softness. Because oh god do I love getting lost in that amazing part of pat. The way he acts, the way he speaks and his mannerism in those moments are chef's kiss. You always talk about how pat is pure like he was never touched by the horrible world around him and that's such a perfect description. But he is also soft as hell. And isn't afraid to show it too. I was just watching the bus stop scene and the guitar one in ep3 and you can see I'm going through it. I love everything ohm gave to pat. That man is brilliant.

*rolls up sleeves* oh dear precious anon you have given me the chance to rant and rant i will. strap in.

ohm is something else. seriously. i cannot even begin to go about expressing how much adoration i have for this man and what he gave to us through pat. its astounding. im gonna reference what ohm said in the ep 12 reaction on jennie's yt channel just bc its fresh in my mind and bc it perfectly captures the things i wanna praise ohm for. he spoke about how pat is very much like him, we've heard him say this a billion times, and its very obvious they are similar types of people in the way they behave; playful, silly, tactile, but also very frank and honest and serious when its called for, when important things are happening or being discussed, or when they're sharing their emotions. but ohm also said two things i wanna focus in on; how pat can act like this given the background he has, a background very different to ohm's, and how ohm can make people think the person on screen is pat, not ohm. and its funny, bc i think these things feed into each other and made him successful in both.

i feel like pat's background is something ohm dug into a lot and really studied and considered and built up to deliver his performance. he wanted that through line so he could deliver a fully realised pat, he needed to figure out why, despite his upbringing and family situation and his father and the feud and so on, pat could be so cheerful and goofy and care-free on the surface. im not exactly sure what that through line is, but whats important is that i see it. i see that pat is not a bunch of separate people or personalities. there isn't the pat with pran, the pat with his friends and the pat with his father; they're all pat. yes his behaviour shifts but all his personality traits mix and affect each other. nothing is is simple, nothing is by the book, nothing is just as it seems on the cover. everything has this air of something else underlying it, bubbling under the surface. im not even sure how to perfectly describe it, its just there (i hope you know i actually just sat and cried for 5 mins bc i was just thinking about pat too much and it broke me but we continue).

you can see that pat is not just a one dimensional set of descriptors pilled into a body. he is a person, a living breathing human. you can see what his core personality traits are and how they have been altered by his childhood and his current environment, by the people he's known and knows now, and how they manifest differently in certain situations and around certain characters. its like... when he's with pran, hes adorable and smiley but that pang of pain and loneliness and hatred for the world and press of expectations never fully goes away. and even when he's at his saddest or angriest, that innate kindness and care and goodness in his heart is still present. sometimes you look at him and just see a kid that wanted a friend, but instead was moulded into something he didnt want to be, and yet he still holds on to the warmth and want for happiness thats so integral to him. and i think its so incredible that we see him in so many ways, in so many different lights; happy, sad, angry, cheeky, horny, hurt, jealous, excited, in love etc, and they're all pat. none of them are shocking, none of the ways he acts when feeling these emotions feel un-pat-like. i rlly dont know how he does it, but its just like pat will do something, react a certain way in a new situation and i'll just be like 'yeah, ofc he'd act like that, he's pat, thats what pat would do'. nothing is out of character, everything makes sense!! its so well thought out and crafted, but you can tell all that work was done beforehand so it could be ingrained into the performance, which allowed ohm to act so naturally and impulsively, bc he was living that character. he wasnt thinking 'what would pat do?' bc he already knew. he is pat and this is what pat does. its just AMAZING.

and as for his softness, i rlly rllyyyyy RLLLYYYYY adore this aspect of pat. it would've been so easy, given the kind of role he's fulfilling, to make pat very trope-ey. he could've been a jock/boy's boy/hot-head that is only softened by love, who only reveals that side to his lover, bc its his lover that brings it out of him. very much a man's man that will only act cute with his boyfriend much to his own embarrassment and at the sacrifice of manliness. but pat is so so soooooo far from this. his cute and soft demeanour is just pat. yes he's like it the most around pran, but you see him be goofy and sweet and kind with pa and his mom, he's like it when he goes home in ep 12 much to the annoyance of his father. he's dumb and playful with his friends in similar ways he is with pran and it shows us that this is pat, not just pat with pran, it’s who he always is, it’s just he shines brightest with pran. and i love that this softness is so integral and central to a character who is also very manly. i spoke before about how I don’t pats ‘manly’ aspects are just present bc of his fathers expectations, I think that rlly is pat, and I love that he can be all those typically manly things while also being so cute and adorable, and also while being caring and thoughtful and emotional and open. toxic masculinity is all about men feeling like they can’t open up, can’t be vulnerable, can’t be soft, they must be strong and stable 24/7. pat shows us that that’s just not true.

you are not any more of a man bc you hold your feelings in. christ, pat’s whole thing is that he can’t sit with his emotions, he has to be open and honest, it’s like a compulsion. and he doesn’t see being vulnerable and honest as a weakness or a sacrifice, he sees as something he needs in order to live fully. he truly wears his heart on his sleeve, but in a way where he’s almost adamant that he will feel and think and live how he wants. all his emotions are right there and he will feel them and share them bc otherwise he feels like he’s living half a life, and as someone who probably had to hide so much as a child, I can so see where that desire and will comes from. and that kind of resilience matched with his cuteness is perfection. bc it’s like his softness is defiant, his adorableness is an unconscious statement that he will live every moment with pure joy. he will not hide, he will not restrict, he will not pretend. that does not make him the man he is. he will play stupid games and pull cute faces and say his cheesy one liners bc for him, being a man is about sharing the kindness and happiness in his heart with the world, creating a warmer and brighter place for the people around him, and I just find that so admirable.

we go on and on about pat being best boy, but it’s so overwhelmingly true, bc i sincerely believe he’s such a great role model for how to just live. live happy and and honest and whole. and i think if we all just lived a little bit more like pat the world would be such a kinder place, and that’s something i can’t thank ohm enough for.

[ardenttheories]

Hi! This is sort of a random question, but I was curious if you had any opinions on if and how knights interact with their opposite aspect? I’m a knight of light, and I’ve been thinking a lot about how the application of light really mirrors how roxy relocated void in the comic, and I realized that I’ve never actually seen much about how knights interact with their opposite aspect, and so I was curious what you thought on the matter. I hope you have a great day! :)

Knights tend to be a little out of sync with their opposing Aspect. They’re not one of the Ghosting Classes, and they’re naturally very good at their own Aspect - the same way Heirs are. Their only drawback is that they don’t seem to think they’re very good at it and get the wrong idea of what they have to be as a result, often putting themselves in positions they’re not wholly comfortable with out of a sense of duty. 

Dave surrounds himself with Time. He’s got interests that actively involve capturing moments for preservation of the past (his photography, as well as the preserved monstrosities), and has a collection of dead things that… well. Just really play up the whole “Time is Death” part of the Aspect. I think he even mentions some vague interest in palaeontology? Which, being about bones and fossils, plays up that point even more.

He doesn’t actually have a lot of Space. Part of his issue is that he’s constantly surrounded by his Bro; his smuppets are everywhere, there’s cameras all around the house, and unlike Jade - who has too much Space, on a gigantic island in a gigantic house that she can explore to her heart’s content but never being around people - he’s completely isolated within his very tiny apartment, which by far is the smallest abode of any of the kids.

When he uses Time, it’s very strictly limited to Time-related things. Which sounds silly, admittedly, but it’s very different from (for instance) how a Bard uses their Aspect to Destroy. He can go back in time and forward in time, can revert things between Time-based states, can create perfect loops so long as he goes forward and becomes them eventually. He innately understands how Time works, and can be pinpoint accurate on Time while also exploiting things like Memories and Death - such as the use of the E.Bubble service in the Dreambubbles. 

From what I can recall, he’s not so great at the Space thing. He doesn’t really understand how it all works, or at least tends to cut things off if they get too Spacey. He’s not even really one for figuring out alternate universes I don’t think? Mostly because there are enough Dead and Doomed Daves as it is without adding in all the Alternate Daves as well. And as great as he is at helping Jade with the Frogs, his main role is using Time to find them all at a much quicker pace - his part in the actual breeding seems to be minimal. 

We can say that Karkat is sort of the same. He definitely surrounds himself with Bonds - literally all eleven of his friends, each of whom he feels uniquely Responsible for - and he’s heavily associated with Responsibilities and Unity, as that’s his entire role throughout the game. He’s also Bound to a lot of things, to a lot of people, and to (ironically) societal expectation; he tries to go through life living under the Hemospectrum to become a Threxecutioner, despite the system trying to destroy him outright as a mutant nigh daily. 

He has very little to do with Breath. He’s not the Leader people expect him to be - even in the Epilogues he’s bad at leading rebellions, and it’s Meenah who actually makes the whole thing work in Candy - and he sure as hell doesn’t focus on Freeing himself from the Hemospectrum until it’s completely obsolete. In fact, his initial hatred of John can even be seen as a sort of natural dislike for his opposing Aspect, since as the Heir of Breath John is essentially Breath incarnate. 

As for Roxy with Void… admittedly I haven’t seen that far yet. I only know very bare bits and pieces, such as her pulling the Matriorb from the Void and her turning herself Invisible - neither of which seem like very Light-based powers to me. So I couldn’t really say how her abilites are linked to the Knight of Light specifically.

As a general rule of thumb, though, Knights of Light in Exploiting Light can play with the way Light refracts, the way people Perceive the world would them, the way people see, without actually getting rid of Light at its core. They can Exploit Information and Importance - what counts as Knowledge, what is Relevant - and to what degree something is any of those things.

E.g. this book may be Important, sure, but is it really as Important as this one? It’s not detracting from the concept of Importance, but Exploiting it to draw attention away from one and onto the other. They’re both still Important, just one is Less Important, which isn’t quite the same as it being Irrelevant or Void.

I think that’s, essentially, the basics of how I understand Knights to interact with their opposing Aspect. The truth is, I’m not sure they do? They’re so in tune with their Aspect that they have very little connection to the opposite; it doesn’t mesh with them quite as much, and while they’re not incapable of connecting with it, I’d say it evades them just the slightest amount.

As above, Dave and Karkat aren’t exactly in tune with Space and Breath respectively; they have slight aversions to them, in fact, and it’s only much, much later that they even seem to vaguely vibe with it (with Dave ending up getting the Space he never had, and Karkat getting the Freedom he was never afforded - at least until the Epilogues). You could even argue that even then, they don’t find true Space or Breath; Dave’s still deeply entrenched in Time, and Karkat always finds himself surrounded by Bonds. 

I suppose the best way of putting it is that Knights have the ability to fan fires. If two fires are the same size, they can fan one to make it bigger. This doesn’t mean that the other fire has gone out; it’s just different in size, in intensity, in heat. 

The opposing Aspect would snuff one of the two fires out in an instant, but the Knight doesn’t have that ability. They don’t even quite understand how it would all work - like trying to figure out which fire extinguisher to use on which type of fire. CO2? Water? Foam? Maybe a fire blanket? It’s not natural for them to think outside of the fire, so understanding how to put out the fire isn’t easy. 

[emulateharry]

Five Weddings

Written as a gift for goseaward as a part of Grylesfest 2019 on ao3.

ONE

The sun was just past the zenith and starting its descent, splashing golden light on the gathering at the edge of the black sand.  Nick stood at the end of the aisle with Pig and Aimee, who, by virtue of her online ordination by the Universal Life Church, was officiating.   When the string quartet began playing Pachelbel, he looked up to see Meshach standing under a bower of tropical flowers at the other end of the long white walkway, Stinky on a leash at his feet.  With a wide smile, Mesh began his slow walk past family and friends to his groom, Stinky padding proudly beside him.  Nick looked around trying to fix all the details in his memory.  He tried to look serious but could not contain his smile.  He was getting married.  On the beach.  In Paradise. 

Images flitted through his mind of all the years he thought this day would never come for him.  First because it wasn’t legal (such bollocks) and then because he never thought he would find someone (not so much bollocks).  Well, not someone that he truly fancied who fancied him back. He slid his eyes to his left, pausing on Harry, who was half-turned away from him.  Harry’s expression was serious, almost stoic, as he watched Mesh walk down the beribboned and flowered runner.  With a tiny shake of his head, Nick brought his attention back to the man he was about to pledge his life to.  Just as Mesh reached Nick and Aimee, Pig let out one of her grunting barks, an inelegant sound that inspired her name, and the guests laughed. 

“Meshach, I promise to love you as much as I do our dogs.  From this day forward, I will lint roll the chairs whenever your parents visit.  I will love you in sickness and in health, as long as you help with the vet visits.  I promise to cuddle you as much as I do Pig and Stinky and to pick up treats for you whenever I get some for them.  When you’re having a bad day, I promise to sit close by and nuzzle you until you feel better.  I promise to be your biggest fan, to encourage you to pursue your dreams.  I promise to love you enthusiastically and fiercely and forever.”

Nick’s voice cracked slightly on ‘forever’ but his smile grew wider, if that were possible, as he turned back to Aimee.  She took both their hands.

“Today is all about love.  It has been my honour to officiate your ceremony and now I get to say something you’ve been looking forward to.  I now pronounce you married.  You may kiss your husband.”

The kiss was sweet and hot and gentle and filled with promise.  As they parted, Nick whispered an “I love you” that only Mesh could hear over the applause of the guests.  Mesh pulled him into a hug and Nick tucked his face into his husband’s neck.  When he opened his eyes he saw Harry standing and clapping but Harry wasn’t smiling like everyone else, in fact, tears were streaming down his cheeks.  Alexa handed Harry a tissue and he dabbed at his eyes.  Meshach released Nick and they both bent down to love on the dogs, who had been miraculously well-behaved during the short ceremony.  Handing their leashes to Aimee, Nick took Mesh’s hand and they walked back down the aisle together, the sun still smiling on them. 

The dinner reception was a blur.  The toasting and the roasting and the champagne and lack of food, combined with the energy and anticipation of the day, had pushed Nick just over the line of intoxication.  Mesh was dancing with Aimee and with Nick’s sister Jane when Nick finally got a chance to sit with Harry and Alexa, his suit jacket long since discarded somewhere in the room.  Alexa was teasing him about the vows he had written while Harry watched quietly, a smile on  his perfect pink lips.  Nick recognised it as his public smile, not a real heartfelt expression of happiness.   Nick knew that face better than its owner sometimes.  His gaze slid up to Harry’s eyes and locked there.  He almost gasped, those green eyes undid him every time.  Even today, his wedding day, those eyes captivated him and drew him in.  And he saw… sadness?  What was that about?  Harry quickly looked away, and Nick winced at the loss of connection, so he did what had always worked in the past to cheer Harry up. 

“Okay, Styles.  What’s with the teary eyes?  I saw you blubbering away there.”

The flush that crept into Harry’s cheeks only made him more attractive, damn him. 

“I always cry at weddings,” he murmured defensively.

“Your mum’s, Jay’s, Ben’s—no tears.”

“Not that you saw, Grimmers.”

“Mmhm.  Well.  Not today, Henry, not today!”  Nick stood up and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him up too.  “Alexa, be a darling and commemorate this auspicious moment of my wedding day...the moment that Henry Stars smiled.”

Harry’s lips began to curl up in the corner of his mouth, whether from the silly tone or the physical contact, Nick wasn’t sure.  He reached up and squeezed Harry’s cheeks between his fingers and cooed at him.  “Come on now, give us a grin.”

“Stop, Nick!”  Harry barely managed to contain the giggle that threatened. 

“Who’s got a pretty smile?  Who’s got a pretty smile?”

Harry laughed at the silliness of the situation and posed for Alexa.  At her “Got it”, he turned and hugged Nick fiercely. 

“Wish you all the happiness, Nicholas.  You deserve it.”

Nick felt his throat constrict and his own eyes prickled.  He looked at Harry’s expression and could not help himself.  He reached up to stroke his cheek.  Later, he would put it all down to the high content of alcohol mixed with his blood and bathing his brain, but in that moment, the life that would never, could never, be flashed before his eyes.  He felt a momentary stab of pain, a pain so great that he gasped out loud.

“Are you okay?”

“Cramp.  Big toe.  Fuck’s sake that hurts,” he said, bending down to massage the supposedly offending digit through the shoe leather.  He hoped that the distraction had worked on his friends … and himself. 

With the perfect timing of his profession, Mesh glided over and drew his husband onto the empty floor for a romantic ‘first dance’.  Nick’s attention was thankfully fully captured, and he didn’t notice when Harry excused himself for the evening.  Only later in the weekend did he realise that Harry must have left Hawaii early without saying goodbye, because he didn’t see him again.

TWO

 Nick sat at his assigned table on the left side of the room.  He was attempting to entertain Ellie or Emmy (or whatever her name was, Nick couldn’t be arsed to remember) while Harry was toasting his sister and her newly minted husband.  It wasn’t easy because Elspeth seemed immune to irony and inflection and thus his humour was falling flat.  He was about to try a knock-knock joke on the model when Harry returned at last. 

Nick averted his gaze as she pulled Harry close and tried to choke him with her tongue, at least that’s what it looked like to Nick, and he swallowed down a retch.  He reached for his glass of water and distracted himself from the show the waifish mannequin was putting on.  What the fuck was Harry thinking?  He saw the woman’s hand slide to Harry’s crotch and give a squeeze.  Harry giggled.  Ugh.  Of course.  He was thinking with his cock. 

God, Nick felt bitchy today.  Understandable, really.  It had been less than a year since his marriage had dissolved like a fizzy pink bath bomb in a giant tub of water, and weddings still rubbed the wound painfully.  Mesh seemed to be recovered and happy, he had moved on before the ink on the dissolution was dry.  It was taking Nick a lot longer.  It’s because you’re getting old.  It was a constant refrain in his head, these days, a reminder that life was slipping away and everyone around him was settling down.  Well, except for Harry.  He was still happy sampling the smorgasbord of women the world had to offer him.  And Nick?  Nick couldn’t even get a decent date to a friend’s wedding.  So unfair.  Gah.

“Oi!  Nicholas!  Over here!”  Harry was snapping his fingers at Nick after having extricated himself from the octopus. 

“What are you on about?”

“D’ja like my speech?  Michal almost choked on his champagne,” he said proudly and with only a slight slur.

“Yeah, Harold, it was really good.”

“I told Mum Gems would like it.  Doesn’t she look great, Grim?”  Harry’s face shone with happiness as he watched his mother and sister on the dais.  He turned to Nick, seeking his 

confirmation.

It took Nick’s breath away.  That face, those eyes, the light of a thousand suns.  The first time Nick had seen that expression was years ago, after the Brits.  Nick was still on the Breakfast Show and him and Harry had stayed out until the wee hours partying.  They went back to his flat so that he could shower and change clothes before work.  Harry was a cuddler, especially when he was drunk, and he’d snuggled up to Nick in the car and it was like freeing himself from a koala to get them both into the flat.  They were giggly and breathless and once the door was closed behind them, Harry had turned to Nick and kissed him.  A soft, happy kiss. ��A taste of the nectar that ancient bards sang about.  As first kisses go, it was perfection.  Nick had been instantly sobered yet impossibly drunk on Harry.  When they pulled apart, Nick saw Harry’s expression, his innocent look of adoration, and knew that nothing else in life would ever compare to witnessing it.

“Yes.  Beautiful.”

Harry grinned at him before his attention was snatched away from Nick by... Dora?  Nora?  Nick watched them together and was puzzled.  What did Harry see in her, besides the obvious?  Yes, she was pretty in that cookie-cutter model way, but forget being able to have a conversation.  Her IQ was south of 90 and her repertoire seemed to be limited to 5 or 6 topics on a good day, basically a troll with a pretty face.  Meanwhile, Harry was innately intelligent and constantly challenged himself to keep his mind sharp.  He was well-read and well-travelled and could conduct himself respectably whilst conversing on almost any subject.  Nick found himself assessing the odds that this ‘relationship’ would last longer than a month.  Not that Nick had any room to throw stones on that account. 

Harry leaned over to kiss her, (what was her name? Philistia? Phlegm?) but was stopped by her finger on his lips.  She had just applied lipstick and didn’t want him to muss it.  Harry smiled and moved to kiss her cheek instead.  Nick nearly goggled at her stupidity and swallowed a snarky comment with a sip of water.  When one is given the opportunity to touch that beautiful mouth with one’s own, one never, ever turned that down.  Yet she did.  Several more times before the evening was over, in fact.  Idiot.

Nick stayed through the first dance, through the karaoke, through Mr. And Mrs. Mlynowski’s well-choreographed departure.  He had a lovely conversation with Anne, ate more than he should have and then pleaded a headache so that he could escape, escape the presence of so much happiness and hope.  It was far too painful to contemplate, and watching Harry with, er, Consomme’ only added to the hurt and loneliness that he felt. 

Nick was waiting for the valet to return with his car when he heard his name.

“Nick!”  Harry was hurrying out to the queue line. 

“‘M so glad you could make it, Nick.”  Harry reached out to hug him.  Nick hesitated for only a fraction before allowing himself to be drawn in.  He let himself relax into Harry’s arms, let the scent of alcohol and spicy cologne envelope him.  The brush of Harry’s lips against his cheek made him smile, his first genuine smile of the day. 

“Call me next week, k?” Harry said, and then he was gone.  

Nick was left stood alone on the kerb and the valet was holding the car door open for him, so Nick went home and watched ‘The Notebook’ and indulged in ice cream and maudlin thoughts of romance and impossibilities.

THREE

The breeze smelt of brine and freshness as it blew over the castle walls and into the courtyard.  Nick lifted his face to the sun and enjoyed its warmth in the cool air.  November 1. Samhain.  A legendary good day to begin a marriage, the end of the harvest and the beginning of the quiet time of year.  

It was early yet and he had come out to the garden to take in the beauty of the day and sip his tea.  At the clink of china, he looked up to find Harry walking towards him carrying a cup and saucer of his own.

“Morning Nick.  Beautiful day for a wedding.”

“Harold!  When did you get in?”

“About 2 this morning.  Had to drive up from Manchester.  There was a mix-up in the travel plans and Glenapp Castle is not the easiest place to get to.  On a side note, I’m looking for a new assistant.”

Nick laughed at his obviously false grumpy tone and stood to hug him.  “Well, whatever.  I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”  

There was a certain gruffness to his tone that he tried to cover with a cough.  Nick smiled indulgently and offered him a scone.  They caught up for a few minutes, Nick laughing at one of Harry’s jokes and then falling silent.  He closed his eyes and smiled, trying to catalogue all the emotions running through his veins.  Happiness, joy, hope, and a bit of nerves if he was honest.  He was grateful to have his best friend there with him. 

“Where is Adam?” Harry asked, bringing Nick out of his reverie.

“Not sure.  Sleeping in maybe.  And it’s Calvin—you know that.”

‘Yeah, like my name is Harold or Henry Stars.”

Nick snickered.  “Yes, Henry, my MUM asked about you last night.”

Harry shook his head, smile growing.  “Will she ever learn my name?”

“Dunno.  Got her so confused with Adam Richard Wiles and Calvin Harris—she calls him Dickie and that’s that.”

Harry laughed out loud.  “Dickie and Nickie.  I’ll have to get you some personalised pillows or some such.”

“Don’t you dare!  By the way, I had the weirdest dream last night.  You and I were running through my old neighbourhood in Oldham wearing kilts and trying to find all the sweets.  An old crone was laughing at us and grabbed us both by the ears.  She gave us each a coin, filled our sporrans with candy, and sent us out the door, whacking our bums with a broom made out of rosemary.”

“How much did you have to drink last night?” Harry asked with a laugh.

“Not enough for that kind of dream.  Anyway, when I woke up this morning there was a sprig of rosemary and a sixpence under my pillow.”

“That’s really weird.”

“Oh, shut up Henry.”

They finished their tea and, realising the time, headed to their rooms in the castle to get ready for the ceremony which was scheduled for 1 pm.  Harry got dressed in his room then headed upstairs to help Nick with any last minute details.  Nick looked up when Harry entered and gave a low whistle.  Harry was wearing a traditional Highland tartan kilt complete with jacket, waistcoat, a sporran and hose.  He had a white lace jabot at his throat.  His only departure from tradition were custom Gucci brogues.  Damn but the man was beautiful. 

“Are you…” Nick began but Harry interrupted him.

“Of course.”  Harry turned his back to Nick and flicked up the edge of his kilt, mooning his best friend.

Harry greeted Aimee and made conversation while Nick recovered himself.  Unlike his first wedding, Aimee was not officiating this one.  Instead she was Nick’s best man, a role Harry would have been honoured to fill but he hadn’t been asked.

“So what are your duties Aimee?  Hold the rings?  Calm down the groom?  Or at least one of them?”

“Yeah, Harry.  Oh, I get to help with the hand-fasting too,” she answered.

“The what?”   

“It’s a Scottish tradition.  Cal always wanted to include it when he got married,” Nick explained. 

“I still have no idea what you are talking about,” Harry said.

“Here, it’s like this Harry.  Do you have a cord or a ribbon?”

Harry reached into his sporran and removed a banana, his mobile, and a Gucci tartan scarf.

“The scarf, give it to me.  Okay.  So you and Nick hold hands.  No, both of them.  Yeah, like that.  Then the ribbon, or in this case the scarf, is wound around your hands and then tied loosely.  A blessing is offered and voila’.  You’ve tied the knot.” 

She was grinning at them.  Nick rolled his eyes and shook the scarf loose.  

“It’s all bollocks if you ask me.  But my fiancé wanted it, and I want to make him happy.”

“Well then, Nicholas, that is what you should do.” 

***

 Tuesday morning, headlines in The Sun and Daily Mail screamed about the secret wedding of legendary DJ Calvin Harris, nee’ Adam Richard Wiles, and television and radio presenter Nick Grimshaw.  The happy couple was said to be honeymooning at an undisclosed location.  The paps had been out of luck and only the official photos released by the happy couple were used.  Harry meanwhile had been caught at Heathrow and dozens of shots were circulating the internet.  Fans were disappointed that he was not smiling in any of them.

FOUR

“And Chris told me that Gwyneth sent them a gift,” Nick muttered conspiratorially to Harry before taking another drink of champagne.

“No! What was it?  Poisoned fruit or summat?”

“It was a set of holistic linen sheets, handmade while the crafter thinks happy thoughts about the recipient.  Oh!  And it came with an aphrodisiac candle and some aromatherapy good mojo spray.”

“Did Alexa toss them into the rubbish bin?”

“No, she said she’d use them in the guest room.  One of them at least.”

Their laughter was interrupted by the return of Harry’s date, Clarissa.  She plopped onto the seat next to him and affected a pout.  Nick used every ounce of his self-control not to roll his eyes.  Harry had dated some vacuous women in the past but this one was the worst.  He could not understand what Harry saw in her. 

Avaricious, spoiled, and damn near anorexic; she wasn’t even pretty. Nick worried about Harry sometimes.  Okay often, he worried about him often.  As Harry got closer to his 30th birthday, and he’d just turned 29 in February, he seemed to be more and more restless and determined to find the perfect mate.  It was like his biological clock was ticking or something. 

Nick hadn’t been to his friend’s last birthday party.  He had been in the throes of his second disintegrating marriage.  It was all his fault, really.  At least that’s what Cal had said just before he slammed the front door and then whooshed out of the garage never to be spoken to again.  Why couldn’t he remain friends with his exes? Other people seemed to have no trouble.  The only one he had managed to keep was Harry, and they had only dated briefly a decade ago.

Had it been that long?  

They had both been so young.  Harry had still been in One Direction and the Nazi-like management had nearly ruptured an artery when they found out he and Nick were an ‘item’.  Harry had quietly listened to their ranting and threats and then turned and walked out of the meeting.  He had gone straight to Nick’s and holed up there for almost a week, refusing to speak to anyone except Nick until his mother called him, worried. 

Harry had agreed to attend a meeting whereupon the management dicks hammered at him again about ruining the brand until he threatened to walk away from it all.  They had quieted down when they realiszed that this charming, soft-spoken kid was absolutely prepared to make good on his warning.  Harry ended up giving them an ultimatum before heading back to Nick’s.  Nick, who had been scared shitless for his boyfriend, was truly terrified when Harry recounted the relevant points of the meeting he’d just attended.  All he could see was the glorious career Harry was prepared to throw away for him… and he couldn’t let him make that sacrifice.  He told himself that Harry didn’t realisze what he was about to give up, that he worried that Harry would regret it and blame him.  

Their friendship had survived the break-up, barely.  Harry felt that his grand gesture hadn’t been appreciated for what it was: a declaration of love for Nick.  Nick felt that Harry was too young to realisze what he was doing.  They repaired the relationship one night when Harry was off tour with 1D and showed up at Nick’s with an armful of romantic comedies and a couple of bottles of tequila.  They drank and watched movies and hashed out the hurts until the wee hours of the morning.  Then they curled up in Nick’s bed and cuddled until they fell asleep. 

The tens of millions of One Direction fans had no idea how close they had come to losing their beloved boys two and a half years before the ‘hiatus.’

When Nick had first heard Made in the A.M. he had been shocked.  Though he hid it well at the station, he had taken the CD home and listened to one song over and over again.  Though they had never talked about it, Nick knew that “If I Could Fly” had been written about him.  He had spent the weekend drinking and crying over opportunities lost.

His rumination was ended abruptly by Clarissa’s long fingers snapping at him.  “Wake up Sleepyhead!  Do you want another drink or not?  I’m going to the bar.”

“I’m good.  Thanks,” he said. 

Harry had been summoned by yet another friend of the happy couple to pose for selfies with them.  Nick was watching him so intently that he didn’t hear Alexa swish up to the table.  He pulled his features into a mask, but it was too late.  She had seen.

“Why don’t you talk to him Nick?  I mean, really talk to him.  Tell him the truth.”

“Tell him what?  That a forty year old man with two failed marriages fancies him?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Oh whatever.  Close enough.”

“You are selling yourself short.  And you’re not giving him enough credit.  You will never be happy if you keep trying to find a substitute for the real thing.”

What is this?  Relationship advice from the woman who has been married for exactly…” he looked at his watch, “90 minutes?”

“Fine.  Ignore my advice.  But I know I’m right.  Oh god, gotta run.  Carlotta is steaming her way over here.”

“Clarissa.”

“Oh whatever, Grimshaw.   She wants me to make her the spokesmodel for my brand. I don’t know what Harry sees in her,” she said softly over her shoulder as she hurried away to a group of friends and family to hide from Clarissa.

“No one does,” Nick answered, but she didn’t hear.

FIVE

“Calm down, Nicholas!  You said it yourself.  ‘Third time’s the charm’.”

Harry smiled at the groom fumbling with his bow tie.  Nick stood in front of the full length mirror, shirt untucked and trousers unbuttoned, grappling with the piece of silk.  Pausing again, he met Harry’s eyes in the mirror as he found another thing to panic about.

“Sam was subdued at the dinner last night.  He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.  What if he’s got cold feet?  Everyone’s out there—Harry I don’t think I can take the humiliation of another failed marriage.  I’m a punchline now—even to myself.”

“Nick, it’s okay to have jitters before your wedding.  Sam’s probably just excited and nervous just like you.”

“I need another glass of wine,” Nick said and moved to the table across the room. 

“You might want to take it eas--”  Harry was interrupted by Nick’s yelp of pain as he stubbed his toe on a chair leg.

“Shit, that hurt!” he yelped, reaching down to rub the offended appendage.   “If I broke it, the shoes will never fit.  Wait!  My shoes!  Where are my shoes?”

“They’re right here,” Harry replied with a smirk.  Opening the box containing the shiny black oxfords he offered “Come here and tie your tie.  I’ll tie your shoes.”

Nick walked back to the mirror and Harry knelt down, slipping the patent leather on the proffered left foot and tying securely.  Maneuvering the right shoe on Harry grazed the stubbed toe and Nick howled out a protest.

“Hold still, it’s almost in there.   Come on now, push a little.”

The door burst open and Nick’s fiancé barged in.  He took in the sight before him, his brain jumping to a conclusion. 

“Sam! It’s bad luck to see each other before the ceremony,” Nick’s voice sounded strained.

“H-how could you?  On our wedding day?”  Sam’s face was suffusing with red.

“What?  What are you on about?”

“You know, you’ve called me his name at least a dozen times.”  Sam’s eyes were looking dangerously moist.

“What? Who?”

Harry rose slowly and moved to stand behind Nick’s right shoulder.

“Last night even.  You called me ‘Harry’.”

Nick stood frozen as the colour drained from his face.

“I came in to reassure myself that we were going to be okay and find him on his knees and your trousers undone!”

“Sam!  I was tying his--” Harry began but Sam cut him off.

“You shut up!  It’s always you!  He moans your name in his sleep.  He even called me ‘Harry’ when I was sucking him off.  You’ve ruined my life!”

Sam made a move towards Harry but Nick stepped between them.

“Harry’s done nothing wrong.  He’s just--”

“Shut up!  Shut up!  Shut up!  Ramon told me you were cheating with him but I didn’t believe him.  Now I see it with my own eyes.  It’s over!  How could you ever say ‘I do’ to me when you never stopped saying I did to him?”

“Sam--”  Nick reached for him.

“No!  I’m going back to Ramon!”

“But our guests!”

“You mean your guests Nick,” he said, then stifled a sob with his fist as he stumbled from the room.

Nick stood stiffly staring at the door while Sam’s wails echoed down the hall.  It was a while before he felt Harry’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Nick.  I didn’t mean to--”

“No.  It’s alright.  I knew it wasn’t going to work out.  I think that’s why I was so nervous.  I’m not in love with him.”

He hung his head as Harry squeezed his shoulder.  Nick reached up to pat his hand after a moment and took a deep breath.

“I guess I’d better go tell my guests that the wedding is off.  At least they’ll have the reception to look forward to.”

“Wait, Nick.  Don’t tell them.”

“What?  I can’t leave everyone just sitting there when they’ve surely heard him carrying on.  I’ll just tell them I’m a three time loser and we’ll move on to the dinner and the party.”

Nick headed for the door but Harry grabbed his arm.

“Was it true?  What he said?  About me?”

“C’mon Harold, let go.  I’ve got to—“

“Was it true, Nick?”

Nick steeled himself to look into Harry’s eyes, those green eyes that he loved so much.

“Yes,” he managed at last.

Harry searched his face, questioning then made a small nod.

“Good. Then marry me.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.  Marry me instead.  Today.  Right now.”

“Have you gone mad?”

“Do you know why I’ve never got married?  Because I didn’t love any of them.  Not one.  And I tried.”

Nick just stared at him.

“Do you know why I’ve never dated another man?” 

Harry paused for a reply but Nick was dumbstruck.

“Because you’re the only man for me.  Nicholas Peter Andrew Grimshaw, I love you.  I have loved you my whole life.  Will you marry me?”

Tears filled his eyes and his voice cracked when he answered.  “Yes, Harold, I will.”

“You know my name isn’t Harold, right?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

At the first strains of the music, the small crowd turned to see Harry and Nick standing at the back of the room together.  As Shania sang ‘Still the One’, they walked hand in hand down the aisle, both men beaming.  They stopped to hug Anne and Gemma, both of whom were crying.  Just before he released her, Anne whispered to Nick “It’s about time.”  That was when his tears started. 

Next stop was Eileen and Jane and Andy, who hugged them both fiercely.  Eileen reached up to whisper to Harry “He’s always loved you Henry.  As have we all.”   

“Mum, his name’s---”

“Harry.  Yes dear, I know.  But he’ll always be Henry Stars to me.”

Harry bent down to kiss her on the cheek. 

They arrived at the end of the aisle and stood looking at each other as the song faded away.  The minister gave a speech and had them repeat traditional wedding vows. He pronounced them married, and then Nick turned to Harry.  He looked into those eyes, so green he could get lost in their depths.  Harry took Nick’s face gently in his hands and stared into his eyes. 

“I love you.  I am so proud to have married you at last.”  

And then he kissed him.  And then kissed him again.  And then again.  Nick was giddy when they finally pulled apart to applause from their guests.

[btsfanmomma]

BTS as Disney Heroes

Okay y’all, I know this has been done before, but Disney is just as much a passion of mine is BTS, so I thought I’d try my hand at combining them. 

First, photo credit to BigHit and Dispatch, and Disney Character images to the incomparable Jirka Vinse Jonatan Väätäinen. All other photo manips by yours truly. 

Jin

Flynn Rider/Eugene Fitzherbert

Hot takes:

Jin and Flynn rhyme. I kid, but I just realized it when I started typing so it gets a mention.

Handsome is their brand.

But their exterior is nothing compared to their fluffy goodness inside. 

They work hard to be the best in their respective fields, even if Flynn’s is thieving and shenanigans.

Would fight a horse for your affection.

For Jin, I was torn between Prince Naveen and Flynn Rider. Both are handsome and they know it, but where Naveen is all Prince, Flynn is a little rogue and also a little Eugene Fitzherbert. Personally, aside from the visuals, Jin’s standout personality trait is his silly nature and penchant for Dad jokes, no matter how suave he is on the outside. This duality is perfect for Flynn/Eugene. They both appreciate the finer things in life, but not in entitled way, more in a “I know what’s like to go without the finer things and so I appreciate them when I have them” sort of way. Also, ya boy can sing. Also, smolder. 

RM

Milo Thatch

Hot takes:

They have brains and beauty.

They can both rock a tank top. 

Milo becomes the KING of Atlantis, so leadership runs in their veins. 

No judgement would date a woman who is older and more powerful. 

Glasses. That’s it, that’s the hot take.

RM and Milo both have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge (and I have an unquenchable thirst for them). Basically, RM just is Milo? Glasses, tank tops, giant brains and all. Milo is especially adept in languages and anthropology. Every time I see another picture of RM at a museum my choice is reaffirmed. Milo is also characterized by a deep sense of righteousness, expression, and knows how to hype a crowd. I vote Milo for most likely to speak at the UN (about Atlantean rights). 

J-Hope

Prince Phillip

Hot takes:

HOBI IS AN IRL DISNEY PRINCE AND I WILL FIGHT YOU ON THAT AND DIE ON THAT HILL. 

Can sing and dance and woo you in the space of a single song. 

100% capable of both falling off a horse and slaying a dragon, why would you even question that. 

Does not care for your royal traditions and will do as he pleases with a smile on his face and in his heart. 

I have definitely “walked” with Hobi once upon a dream. 

Disney Princes are kind of meh. I mean we build them up to be the male ideal, but mostly they’re kind of whiny and manipulative (I’m looking at you, Prince Eric). Prince Phillip is not your average Disney Prince. He’s okay being royal, but his royalty is second to his own dreams and desires. He was born into royalty and expectations, and he doesn’t whine or complain about it, he embraces it. Both Philip and Hobi are the embodiment of competence and capability. They are strong and soft, hard and delicate. I’ve always loved they way Philip was willing to throw everything away because he fell in love. This is traditionally the woman’s role in a fairy tale, and I feel like Prince Phillip, with his visual and performative duality, is more concerned with being true to himself than being what others think he should be. Also I’d put my money on it that they’re both very talented with their swords.

Suga

Kristoff

Hot takes

GRUMPY GRUMPS that still manage to be beloved by an entire clan of rock trolls. In Suga’s case, ARMY are the rock trolls. Own it.

Masters in their respective crafts (for Suga, this is music, obvs, for Kristoff this is… ice).

Can write songs and play instruments. 

Attracts opposing personalities, who find his innate grumpy stoicism endearing (think Anna, Sven, Olaf). 

Would ride through a blizzard like a valiant, pungent, reindeer king to save you. 

Suga is no fixer-upper, but this one came easily to me. The grumpy act is a front, and really they’re just keeping their cards close to their chest and waiting for the right hand. They’re both incredibly capable. I would 100% trust both of them to help me find my magical sister in a blizzard while climbing up a mountain and running from wolves but only after I’ve earned their respect. Kristoff’s ice-mining skills remind me a lot of Suga’s ability to turn music into gold, but they’re both very humble about it, which speaks to their absolute mastery. And I know I put it in the hot take, but they both absolutely attract happy, bubbly, adoring friends and fans with their stoic personalities.

Jimin

Aladdin

Hot takes:

ABS.

A deep and sometimes melancholy desire to be more than what they seem.

Wherever they are, whatever they are doing, whether that’s scaling the rooftops of Agrabah or training for a KPop band, they put all of their mentality and physicality into it. 

They’re both meant for more than what they started as. 

Did I mention abs?

Every animated Disney movie has an “I want” song. Most of the female characters get amazing “I want” moments (except for Ariel, girl needs to learn how to love herself), but men, even central characters, are often very shallow. Don’t get me wrong, Go the Distance is one of the best “I want” songs in the Disney library, but it doesn’t have half the earnestness and depth or emotionality of the One Jump Ahead Reprise. We all know that Jimin has been the most forthcoming about his struggle with accepting himself and developing his skills as an idol. I feel like no other Disney Hero captures the essence of his “I want” like Aladdin does.

V

Robin Hood

Hot takes:

One is a fox, the other is a literal fox.

Cunning and silly. Misschievous and chivalrous. Basically, duality. 

Willing to put autocratic authority in its place. 

Their smiles are strangely attractive. 

So inspirational that large followings of people are willing to follow them into danger.

Would absolutely steel from the rich and give to the poor when it’s the right thing to do.

This is partially about personality, but also partially about Tae’s sharp and handsome features that absolutely remind me of my weird attraction to Robin Hood. Although anyone’s physical attraction to Tae is definitely not weird because the man is a whole snack. I joke about Tae being chaotic neutral, but there’s no denying he has a deep sense of righteousness. He was willing to call Army out for the weird and sometimes hateful posts on Weverse, and 100% admire that he’s willing to stand-up to bullies. Robin Hood dons an absolutely ridiculous stork costume without blinking even if there are more dignified alternatives, because ultimately life’s about having fun and being weird, even when you’re basically starting a civil war.

Jungkook

Hercules

Hot takes:

The maknea of BTS vs. the maknea of Olympus. 

They both have an ernst, puppy-dog like desire just to Do Good. 

They both have an ernst, puppy-dog like desire to please their hyungs.

Into bodybuilding, but their physical strength is just an outward manifestation of their inner strength. 

Hands down would go to Hades, no questions asked, to save the one(s) he loves. 

This was another no-brainer. Both of these makeneas are ruled by their desire to please their elders, whether that’s Zeus and Phil or RM and Hobi. And really if young, awkward, but completely capable Hercules doesn’t remind you of baby, JK, get out of my house. They both bask in the admiration of their fans, but what’s really important to them is being accepted and loved by their close circle of friends and family. They are both incredibly loyal, almost to a fault, and were destined for greatness.

[autobiographyofread]

Old School

“A true piece of writing is a dangerous thing. It can change your life.”—from Old School, Tobias Wolff

When I was 17, my friend Nicole and I would wake early on Saturdays to stand in line for the bus outside the Sheraton Hotel. The T67 cost $4.25 to ride it from Teaneck to Port Authority. It was thrilling to enter the Lincoln Tunnel in New Jersey and emerge on the other side to the concrete slabs of Manhattan. At Port Authority, we’d buy large iced coffees at the Au Bon Pain kiosk, across from the Strawberry and next to the Duane Reade. Our coffees would turn from black to off-white from the large amounts of cream we poured in. Coffees in hand, we’d hop on the R train and ride it to Union Square, exiting the park at East 12th Street where Strand Bookstore sits on the corner of Broadway. Nicole and I would spend hours browsing the stacks of used books, of which the store boasts 18 miles. Our habit was to grab everything. Grab first, decide what to keep later.

As someone who grew up conflating “bookstore” with Barnes and Noble, I was enamored with the Strand’s lack of escalators and gloss. I loved the poorly ventilated three-story building and its staff-curated tables of books. I dreamed of moving to the city after college and getting a job at the Strand. (I now live in the city, but have yet to fulfill my dream of becoming a bookseller.) 

I think of myself scanning the shelves at 17, and I’m reminded of my conviction. I was so certain that if I spent hours in the store, the right book would reveal itself to me. “Is there a right time to read each book?” asks the poet Mary Ruefle in an essay. “A point of developing consciousness that corresponds with perfect ripeness to a particular poet or novel?” At 17, I thought so.

The first time I encountered Tobias Wolff was on a wooden cart of books waiting to be shelved at the Strand. It’s easy to single out an area of the store as your favorite. It’s crammed with niche offerings, from a section of “Writers Writing About Writing” to a wall of colorful socks and pins. The section that houses the carts of novels-to-be-shelved has always been my favorite. I’m easily overwhelmed by choice, and the carts feel like a manageable sampling of the entire fiction offerings of the store. It was here that I found a $7 copy of Tobias Wolff’s Old School—a novel about literary adolescents at an elite boarding school for boys in the 1960s. If ever there was a perfect book coalescing with my life at the perfect time, it was this one. 

I’m an avid consumer of all things prep school and moneyed academia. I love stepping into the world of ivy-covered brick and characters who worship poetry and grow pale from reading too much indoors. To my bookish self, this is the ultimate fantasy. Even after I gained entry to one of these elite campuses for college, and came face to face with the inherent flaws of these wealthy institutions, I continue to have a soft spot for the genre.

Old School is among the best this genre has to offer. In a story where serious students compete for an audience with literary giants—Robert Frost and Ernest Hemingway—the meat of the novel is its interiority. Wolff captures so palpably the furtive desires that the competition sets in motion. The book opens, “Robert Frost made his visit in November of 1960, just a week after the general election. It tells you something about our school that the prospect of his arrival cooked up more interest than the contest between Nixon and Kennedy, which for most of us was no contest at all.” From these first sentences, Wolff establishes an insular setting, exempt from the noise of the outside world. The whole book is blanketed in a hush—the characters and the actions are not loud or showy. In fact, if you don’t read closely enough, you can easily pass over some of the more affecting moments of the book. One such moment occurs when the protagonist, a sixth former in his final year at the school, decides to type out Hemingway’s stories “in order to learn what it actually felt like to write something great.” Because as we learn early on, these literary competitions mattered, not for the honor of winning, but for the reverence Wolff’s characters have for the written word and the writers themselves. 

The protagonist’s awe is mixed with desperation— “My aspirations were mystical. I wanted to receive the laying on of hands that had written living stories and poems, hands that touched the hands of other writers. I wanted to be anointed.” When I first read Wolff’s book, I was also in my final year of high school and hoped to gain entrance into the world of “living stories and poems” upon my arrival at college. As someone who spent much of high school as an observer, I had acquired a taste for literature and knew what it was like to be hungry. Sometimes a book resonates so deeply that it momentarily knocks the wind out of you. Is this what Mary Ruefle meant about a consciousness corresponding to a certain ripeness? 

Just as Wolff expanded my notion of story, he expanded my understanding of language and what it can do. His prose crackles with exciting words. He conveys one character’s devotion to another by describing him as “spanieling” after his cousin like a loyal dog. In another scene, the protagonist is talking to a girl on a train and observes her “forehead faintly stippled with acne scars.” I immediately fell in love with the word “stipple.” It’s so precise and exacting, and whenever possible, I try to squeeze it into my writing.

At one point in the novel, the headmaster reads a Robert Frost poem to the students, after which he tells them: “Make no mistake, a true piece of writing is a dangerous thing. It can change your life.” I believe this and am fortunate to have experienced this more than once. In many ways, Tobias Wolff’s book determined the course of my college career. I chose my freshman seminar after reading in the course description that the class would read This Boy’s Life, Tobias Wolff’s boyhood memoir. I entered college unsure of myself—I questioned whether I was smart enough to be there and was intimidated by my classmates. They reminded me of the boys in Wolff’s book, with “their innate, affable assurance that they would not have to struggle for a place in the world; that it is already reserved for them.” 

My freshman writing seminar was my very first college class. On our first day, we read a short story called “In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried” by Amy Hempel, who quickly became my favorite living author, and who I would go on to meet twice after graduating college. Discovering a writer whose work I immediately connected with, offered me reassurance. I was unsure of my intellectual footing, but I knew I was in the right place. That class introduced me to writers who became foundational to my life as a reader—Grace Paley, Joan Didion, Virginia Woolf, Raymond Carver, and Lorrie Moore—all of whom I discovered because of Wolff’s book. I didn’t know it then, but that freshman writing seminar cemented my decision to be an English major.

There are so many books in the world. How do we find the ones we’re meant to read and then read them when the moment’s right? When I found Old School at 17, I was so sure that there was some greater mysticism at work pointing me towards that book. It’s easy to dismiss the romanticism of our younger selves, when we are silly and full of hope in an effort to find something to believe in. But it’s nine years later, and I’m still thinking about Old School and all the ways it impacted my life.

“Is there a right time to read each book?” asks Mary Ruefle. “A point of developing consciousness that corresponds with perfect ripeness to a particular poet or novel?” At 17, I thought so. And at 28, I still think so.

[aion-rsa]

Jungle Cruise: How to Turn a Classic Ride Into a Fun Movie

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Remember when Disney announced the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie and the initial thinking was, “How the hell is Disney going to make a movie out of an amusement park ride?” Well, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl turned out to be more fun than anyone anticipated, and while its sequels have not always hit that same high mark, it’s clear — several billion dollars at the box office later — that the Mouse House was onto something.

Some 18 years after that first Pirates launched its first shot across the pop culture bow, Disney is back at it with Jungle Cruise, which stars Emily Blunt as Dr. Lily Houghton, a scientist determined to find a legendary source of healing powers deep in the jungle, and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson as Captain Frank Wolff, a seemingly down on his luck but still decent-minded steamboat pilot who agrees to take Lily and her reluctant brother McGregor (Jack Whitehall) down the Amazon in search of the Tree of Life.

Along the way, the makeshift team will encounter revenants, monsters, tribespeople, and other obstacles, while pursued by a rival boat operator (Paul Giamatti) and a malevolent German prince (Jesse Plemons) who wants to find the Tree of Life for his own nefarious reasons. And naturally, Lily and Frank themselves find themselves in a love/hate relationship as they barrel down the river, with their own secrets and hidden motivations coming to light as well.

“I immediately just saw the potential of the opportunity,” says Johnson during an online press conference about the film. “And that opportunity was to take a beloved and iconic Disney ride — since 1955 when the park opened, this was Walt Disney’s baby. There were a lot of elements that I felt comfortable with saying, ‘Yes, I will come on board, I’ll partner with you guys, and we will develop this thing.’ And we got it to a really great place.”

The Jungle Cruise attraction was indeed part of Disneyland in California when that first park opened 66 years ago, with versions of it also launched at Florida’s Walt Disney World in 1971, Tokyo Disneyland in 1983, and Hong Kong Disneyland in 2005. While the ride is being refurbished this year, it has remained a popular attraction with Disney visitors since its opening, with a film version in development since 2004.

It was nostalgia for the ride that first fueled Johnson’s interest in doing the film, with the Fast and Furious and Jumanji: The Next Level star officially coming on board in 2015. “I had ridden the ride when I was a kid,” he recalls. “Many moons later, I went to Disney World for the first time and rode the ride then too as well. So it had a nostalgic element to it when it was first presented to me. But also, the opportunity that we had that we could create something that was hopefully unique and special.”

Read more

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For Blunt, who says she only boarded the “whimsical and sweet” ride for the first time at the movie’s official world premiere at Disneyland, there was another aspect at work in doing the picture: the way it paid homage to a certain type of adventure movie that we haven’t seen a lot of lately — a genre that ranges from Disney’s own 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea to the Brendan Fraser-era The Mummy.

“It was made in the spirit of the films that we all grew up watching,” she explains. “I mainlined those movies into my veins. I just loved Indiana Jones and Romancing the Stone and The African Queen. They are just joy bombs, and they’re nostalgic, and I think we just needed to pierce people’s hearts directly with the spirit of those films that we all loved as children.”

Blunt adds that director Jaume Collet-Serra (the director of The Shallows and four Liam Neeson thrillers, who’s working next with Johnson on the DC superhero epic Black Adam) brought a lot of “world building” skills to the project.

“When [Johnson] and I first met Jaume, we both asked him the same question,” says Blunt. “We said, ‘Well, what do you feel this movie’s about?’ I always ask a filmmaker that before I’m about to sign on. And he goes, ‘You know, it’s about love.’ And it was so perfect, ’cause you could’ve talked about all the action, the spectacle, and the myths and the legends and all that. But that’s when I knew in Jaume we had an innate romantic and a world builder, and that’s what you need for this type of movie.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Capturing the free-spiritedness, appeal, and wonder of the original ride, then combining that with the classic adventure stylings, humor, and heart of films like Romancing the Stone or Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jungle Cruise became, for Johnson, much more than just a movie based on a theme park attraction.

“I think the movie is so much more than what I expected,” he says. “The charm of the ride is the simplicity of it and the silliness of it. And the calmness of it too … you get on this ride and it’s almost like you can exhale and really just enjoy the simplicity of the ride. But our movie is anything but simple. With all the elements that we have, I think we delivered.”

Jungle Cruise is out in theaters and available on Disney+ via Premium Access now.

The post Jungle Cruise: How to Turn a Classic Ride Into a Fun Movie appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[evangelineartemiasamos]

Red Queen Secret Santa - Every Shadow, Every Shade

My gift for @samanthaslytherin Merry christmas and a happy new year! <3

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One year before Red Queen ...

Elane POV

Even the tenth pencil I tried didn't capture my imagination. I pressed harder and lighter, cursed silently at the eraser and used the sharpener after just a few strokes but the gleam on the paper couldn't match the shine of her hair, her armour, her blades, her skin, or the dark light of her eyes.

Finally, I snorted and raised my hand asking for the tutor - then he was already behind me before I'd looked into his direction, or called his name.

"Master Eagrie," I said, using the address only appropriate in this class, "do you have more pencils? The ones I have just don't offer the right shades ... " I went on talking although he could see for himself and divine my words. At least he didn't interrupt me by saying my own words before I spoke them myself. Other seers of his house never learned this basic politeness.

"You may use this one," he said, handing me a pencil and pointing, "there. And try another one for the armour. But to be honest, I'd recommend you try to shade more, much more. Make it darker to get more contrasts."

I sighed. "That wouldn't be accurate. Lady Evangeline is light-skinned."

He shrugged. "Right, Lady Evangeline is well-known to all of us." He sounded sarcastic, almost amused. "I'm merely intending to teach you, Elane, to try something new to improve. Or do you have a specific reason to make this a perfect portrait?"

I felt blood rushing up and blooming in my cheeks. I noticed his informal address as well as his insinuation. I did intend to make the portrait a gift to Eve unless I found another way to confess my feelings to her.

But when I looked at him - Roman Eagrie, my cousin - I didn't saw a person joking about me, but something close to empathy flashing on his face. As if he wasn't an art tutor in a class full of other young nobles but a friend offering to trust him. Which he was to me. A free-spirited friend, a little older but without belonging to my direct family was a refreshing, different, company.

"I'm undecided," I replied finally. "This is definitely not good enough, and I shall try harder, and heed your advice."

He nodded, smiling, and patted the back of my chair. Did he ever get frustrated about knowing what people would say and do beforehand? All I knew was that he used his ability for art. "You're one of the best here, Elane, if I'm allowed to say so," he added.

I inclined my head with acquired modesty. "Thank you, Master Eagrie." Then he went to another student.

Actually, I wasn't surprised to hear this. I was the second-best student in this class, solely bested Leticia, another Haven cousin. Our family seemed to have an innate talent for the arts and Roman likely inherited his from his Haven mother. Yet I wondered about the intentions of the rest of the class. Its purpose was rather recreational for Silvers who liked art as a hobby but I wouldn't be surprised if some were here to enjoy Roman's company for a different reason: Strikingly handsome, still unmarried in his late twenties and heir to is house, he was a desirable match for the seven other ladies in the class, all older than me, and I suspected the two male students harboured a fancy for him as well. It didn't bother me as long as they didn't disturb the lessons but I'd realized long ago that Roman, who was currently dating Reuben Osanos, didn't wish to marry anyone, be it man or woman, no matter how much everyone else wanted him to. So I rather mused on Roman's view of his students as he always remained polite and committed and avoided any tries of flirting.

I tried the new pencils and advice Roman had given to me on my drawing and the more I worked on it, the more I doubted my skill and the pose itself. I erased several areas I'd been proud of to create more reflections on Evangeline's armour and knew immediately they weren't accurate this way, not when I craved perfection in every shadow and every shade, as she deserved. Why was this so difficult, I should know how to draw light and shadows better than anyone! I would need to work more on this, change the lighting completely to make it look right and compelling, and research the metals she wore as armour. If I ever became content with this work to call it finished and present it to her, I wanted her to feel the graphite flakes that my efforts had fixed on the paper in this helpless attempt to convey my love for her.

I put down my pencil and sighed. Then I saw the other students were already leaving, and only Roman remained with me, catching my eye.

"Oh," I said, blushing again and embarrassed to have forgotten the time. "Here, I'll return your pencils." I grabbed them, their case, the drawing and my folder and walked to his desk.

He cleared his throat. "May I see your other drawings, Elane?"

"Sure." A part of me was nervous but another hoped he'd have the answer to make my works perfect. He certainly contemplated them thoroughly but when he lifted his eyes to me, I couldn't help fearing I'd revealed my whole heart to him. I saw the unspoken question hanging between us: Is Evangeline Samos the sole subject of your art?

I swallowed, and his hawkish features softened. "Elane," he said, and I had to sit down.

I would not cry in front of him.

He stayed as compassionate as before. "You're friends, aren't you? You could ask her about the metals she wears." Then he winked and I had to smile a little.

"She's preparing to win Queenstrial," he said.

"Indeed."

"You don't want to try to become queen?"

As if. "I'm the third daughter. If I wasn't close in age to the crown prince, my parents would be content with any offer from a high house." While the prince's existence created more competition among the young ladies, there were more young lords to court as well.

"Hmm." He thought for a long moment, his eyes not looking into the immediate future for once. "Elane, you see, sometimes noble parents are very glad if their children make proposes on their own."

I laughed. "Right, like the girls - " I stopped, getting his meaning. "You don't think that ... Eve ... ?"

He shrugged. "As you said, you're the third daughter, what can they expect of you? There's freedom in being not as important."

"I don't know." I didn't know anything, really. Not about Eve, my parents' expectations or whether people saw being a paramour as prestigious or undignified. I wasn't averse towards marriage or having children but those ideas seemed so distant when you walked on the fragile ice of new and likely unrequited love.

"Maybe you should ask her out," Roman suggested. "As you're friends. You could ask her how she really thinks about Queenstrial."

"You think I'd have a chance with her?" I smiled at him, out of politeness and yet strangely hopeful. I wished so much he was right. It wasn't easy for people like us, Silvers who fell in love regardless of gender.

"You won't find out unless one of you tries it. That doesn't protect you from disappointments, though." He laughed but it was tinted by less joyful memories.

"Sure," I replied, "I have to stand up for myself and take what's mine. And now I sounds a lot like parents talking." I rolled my eyes. "Only they never tell you to find the person you love."

"Yet we always keep searching," he added.

I thought all my hopes forlorn as Evangeline had brought her brother along - to our "date" on a café's terrace overlooking the river.

"Tolly just returned from Corvium," Eve said, "with the crown prince."

I wondered if her brother regarded me as much as a third wheel as I did him.

"Cal and I finally took matters into our hands," Ptolemus proclaimed. "Can't be we'll have to  continue this war for the rest of our lives without achieving victory." He took his glass and drank.

"Cal ... ?" I inquired.

"The crown prince Tiberias Calore the seventh, flame of the north," Eve corrected, smirking. "I prefer to maintain formalities, Tolly."

I had to smile, for two reasons. Eve insisting on formalities while addressing her most-noble brother with a silly nick-name like "Tolly" was adorable. Secondly, her wish to remain formal in regards to her likely future husband gave me a surge of hope.

"Have you ever been to Corvium, Elane?" Tolly asked, unusually serious.

Surprised by his interest, I merely nodded at first. "I have, yes," I replied. "We Havens are valuable for many tasks required at the front." Even as children, when abilities were still unstable. Most of my house were trained to become spies and assassins and invisibility was always welcome.

Tolly patted my hand. "I'd love to exchange experiences with you one day," he said.

I agreed according to all my courtesy lessons.

"Eve's never been there yet, you know?" he added.

My head spun. Unlike Tolly, Eve didn't excel at polite yet funny banter and stayed earnest, only inclined her head. "I am a court lady, and a proud member of our house. I governed in our homelands though, presiding at trials and, well, executing the verdicts."

Oh.

Tolly raised his glass. "To my amazing sister!" he toasted.

I followed suit and giggled, looking around to check if we were identified. Eve only took a sip, then glanced at me and for a second, she smiled as much as her dark eyes sparkled. Then she downed her drink. "Let's go somewhere else," she announced. "Elane, I think you've been out around here a little more ... often, do you know a place?"

I beamed at her, letting the light reflected by the glass around us glitter and flicker in little rainbows. "Sure I do."

I'd been to this club several times, with friends or my sisters but everything about this was new to Eve and watching her usually impenetrable haughtiness be replaced by fascination and curiosity filled me with joy. It was almost more intoxicating than the drinks Tolly purchased for us when he wasn't dancing. Apparently, he wasn't a stranger to Archeon's night life either.

And although Eve was just sitting on the couch we secured, occasionally sipping form her cocktail, I could hardly tear my eyes away from her. She wore a short black leather dress, with its creative use of straps both prim and sexy in an original way. Small metal plates and studs were tacked on it and those gleamed blue in the club's lighting. Even her hair shone almost blue. I had to hold myself back from taking the straight sheets of her hair into my hands, from stroking or tucking it behind her ears - which were adorned with the most marvellous earrings.

"I wish I could filter the colours of the light like this," I muttered, gesturing around. "All by myself, I mean."

Eve bended forwards, stopping just centimeters in front of me. "You're beautiful as you are," she whispered, "Elane. And if you try hard enough," she chuckled, "you'll manage that feat, like your ancestors did."

I breathed raggedly. Finally my fingers found and brushed over her skin, not demanding but still full of yearning. Eve's dark eyes fixed on me and for a second, like the touch of a feather, our lips met.

Afterwards, I couldn't believe it had happened. Although my hand still squeezed hers while her other one examined my jewellery.

"They look so good on you," Eve said. "There're always glitter, light and rainbows around you."

I laughed, covering her hand on my chest with mine. "It's cheap stuff for every day," I said, "simple black gems in silver."

"How the colours of our house become you," she said. I blushed and she grinned. "Do you want to dance?"

"Of course." But we ended up rather hugging and swaying than in any actual kind of dance, not caring about in which rhythm the music blared, nor about the other guests around us.

Eve stumbled. "I wonder where all our elegance went?" I mused.

Eve tsked. "Drowned in our glasses," she murmured and then she dropped almost 10 cm.

"By my colours!" I cursed.

Eve cackled. "Adjustable heels, Elane," she said. "The time for high heels is over." Indeed, beneath the metal decorations on her shoes, the soles and heels were crafted from her elements as well, likely aluminium.

I patted her back. "What allows you to be so practical?"

"I'm practical enough to leave now. Or can't we, Elane?"

"Tolly ... "

"... could take us an hour to find and I need fresh air now."

The moonlit night sky was as beautiful as the rest of the date. Eve took hold of my arm although I believed she was able to walk on her own. But I didn't complain, not about her touch, nor about the way she glanced at me.

"Isn't your family mansion on the other side of the city?" I asked finally, to be fair. "Should I get a transport? Your parents might worry -"

She cackled. "Oh, Elane, my parents never worry about me. If I couldn't take care of myself for one night, then it'd be my own bloody fault for not being good enough."

"Eve ... "

She sighed. "No matter. If your home is close by, certainly we'll find a spare bed for me."

But she didn't leave my room once we'd arrived. We dressed down to our underwear and fell onto my bed, luckily large enough for two. We didn't embrace, not even touched and I did find us a spare blanket, and yet I couldn't believe this was real. Evangeline Samos had kissed me. She slept in my bed. All I wanted was to repeat this evening, make sure it wasn't a dream or a singular occasion caused by the influence of alcohol. So I couldn't prod and thus make her feel like I was exploiting the situation.

I woke at the incredibly early summer dawn, to the sound of Eve getting up and into the shower. I dozed off again, astounded by her little amount of sleep. Unlike me, Eve seemed to be an early riser.

The next time I woke, Eve sat at my desk, coffee in hand - from where? - and looked through my drawings. Of her. I rushed up in embarrassment to loom over her, wrapped in my blanket.

Her fingers glided over one sheet, the main piece I worked on in class. She glanced at me, her mouth slightly open but apparently uncertain of what to say. All I hoped for was she wouldn't think me a stalker and for an eternally long moment, I expected her expression to change into distaste.

It didn't.

"Sorry," I said, "I wanted to gift you an awesome finished portrait, but I failed so far. But there's still time until your birthday, isn't it?"

She closed the folder and smirked. "I'm excited, Elane. There is no way you'll disappoint me."

"Never," I promised.

@clarafarleybarrow @lilyharvord @inopinion @calliopexclio @mareshmallow @redqueenfandom @iamthebonecarver @hannaharies @breebarrcw @mareenattitanos @queeniriscygnet @iris-cygnets

[ramajmedia]

10 Best Episodes of Ghost Adventures, According To IMDb

The Travel Channel has strongly expanded its programming regarding the paranormal. It’s a controversial subject, which is curious, given how commonplace religion is. However, the validity of the phenomena is often hindered by reality shows like this. The reenactments are silly, and Zak Bagans is a hopelessly theatrical character.

RELATED: 10 Creepiest Movie And TV Clowns

Still, Ghost Adventures gradually shed its more embarrassing habits and focused primarily on collecting evidence. It’s left to viewers to decide upon the legitimacy of said evidence. This is a niche genre, with company like Sightings and Paranormal Witness. But for believers and casual viewers alike, Ghost Adventures is usually a fun and breezy hour. For the former, the encounters can sometimes be genuinely creepy. Here’s how fans rated this long-running staple of ghost hunting.

10 Crescent Hotel - 8.8

All of the more interesting episodes on this show have a compelling setting. Learning the dark, true history of various establishments is pretty entertaining. In this episode, the Crescent Hotel is revealed to be the home of a real-life villain. A man named Norman Baker used the location as a hospital to prey on cancer victims.

He delivered a false cure, made of lethal nonsense, and made millions. Zak opens up about losing his father to cancer a month prior, which is surprisingly frank and stirring. Also, the majority of the episode is comprised of investigating rather than interviews. The GAC uses a good variety of technology, more than usual. The EVPs and SLS oddities are definitely unsettling.

9 Idaho State Tuberculosis Hospital - 8.8

Surely, it makes perfect sense to take a location as creepy as a tuberculosis hospital and make it an Inn. Although, The Shining’s Overlook Hotel did cast an eerie shadow over that, too. The owners of this episode’s Inn, tragically, are revealed to have lost two children.

No matter your position on the supernatural, this show consistently deals with genuine grief and loss. It’s later suggested that one of the kids is reaching out, seemingly providing intelligent responses. But this would be benevolent contact. The most unnerving evidence is an EVP recording of outright, frustrated screaming. It’s a disturbing sound, even for non-believers.

8 Old Lincoln County Hospital - 8.8

In this episode, the crew travels to Tennessee to investigate an abandoned hospital. That’s simply an innately creepy setting, anywhere. There’s a reason it’s used in so many horror movies. But this episode has a really interesting turn of events—the police get involved. Briefly, while attempting an interview, the police arrive at the scene of filming.

RELATED: The 10 Most Haunting Ghost Movies Of The 2010s, Ranked

A local commander in the police department describes potential paranormal activity, which can’t be a more welcome testimony. Still, a single piece of evidence can make all the difference in fan appreciation. The presence of a potential shadow figure is a compelling piece of footage. The episode is paced well, and the crew also uses some interesting new gear.

7 Haunted Harvey House - 8.9

It’s always interesting when this crew is the first team allowed to officially investigate an establishment. At the very least, it adds some credibility to them, given that certain locations have particular reputations at stake. This episode features two very old buildings in Las Vegas—New Mexico.

And once again, apparent shadow figures are the most alarming and memorable encounters in the episode. Two dark, fleeting shadows whoosh past a doorway. It’s some pretty startling footage, akin to anything in a Paranormal Activity movie. But the GAC also collects a wide range of numerous voices, and they utilize a good range of tech.

6 Stone Lion Inn - 8.9

The adventurers travel to Oklahoma to investigate a small bed and breakfast, that was once used as a mortuary. Now, the owner runs a murder mystery show there, and is purportedly enacting genuine satanic rituals. Besides this silliness, there’s some really interesting history. The episode recounts the true story of a train robber’s corpse ending up as a mummified tourist attraction for decades.

It’s fairly disturbing, with real photos of the remains on display. However, this episode also compiles some pretty incredible evidence. This time, it includes alleged poltergeist activity. Doors apparently move on their own, and a camera’s tripod is completely knocked over. Poltergeist footage is the crown jewel of such investigations, and fun to dispute.

5 The Washoe Club: Final Chapter - 8.9

This location was featured in the original Ghost Adventures documentary from 2004. That history is inherently appealing for longtime fans. It’s especially moving that two people who helped with the previous Washoe investigation have since passed on. And according to some strangely coincidental and intelligent communication, the team believes those friends are reaching out.

RELATED: 10 Fan Theories That Will Forever Change Your Favorite Horror Movies

It’s one of the more personal investigations, with intriguing visual and audio evidence. We see a strange SLS figure, the full spectrum camera captures an odd mist, and there’s a long sequence of alleged footsteps. Also, a brief visit to a candy shop provides some surprisingly good humor, which rarely works on this show.

4 Lewis Flats School - 8.9

In this episode, the investigation is set at a school that burned down and became a taxidermy-filled steakhouse. This selection almost gets straight to the evidence, rather than the typical half-interview formula. And it’s pretty intriguing, with EMF spikes, intelligent audio responses, and even the classic horror staple of fluctuating lights.

But the most alarming moment is the extraordinarily distinct shadow behind a doorway. Clear enough to suggest a living intruder, who apparently left some animal bones. That kind of threat is equally disconcerting as any alleged ghost. Still, after a couple of thrown objects, Aaron is left by himself. He’s scared out of his mind by some strange sounds, later jumping at his own reflection. It’s both compelling and pretty amusing.

3 Ireland's Celtic Demons - 9.0

This two-hour special appropriately travels to the birthplace of Halloween, and tells a brief origin for the holiday. It’s a fun way to get in the mood for Halloween, an inviting time to watch this show. The guys undergo an entry ritual to appease an old Celtic goddess, and there’s a story about a demonic cat. It’s all a bit much, but the specials usually are.

It’s just the thing to deter more casual audiences. But familiarized fans are on board as long as the evidence and history are intriguing. The Irish setting is fascinating, and although the first half doesn’t offer much beyond an EVP scream, Loftus Hall delivers. Built in 1666, the team captures an almost stereotypical ghost in a doorway, a white mist. They also get an extensive SLS figure apparently standing on Aaron’s shoulders.

2 Halloween Special: Route 666 - 9.1

This was a two-parter taking place at the DeSoto Hotel and Goatman’s Bridge. So, the special is, in fact, available to stream on Hulu, albeit by those individual titles. This was a pretty stunning special. It had some incredible evidence, and an experience that convinced Jay Wasley’s wife to quit the show. Undoubtedly, the DeSoto Hotel includes some of the most memorable moments in the show.

Shadow figures compel Billy to actually call the police at a cemetery. A ceiling fan is thrown in plain sight, and the light above it turns on by itself. Also, a wire’s tugged in equal view of the cameras. Goatman’s Bridge is unfortunately set in the woods, where evidence is even more unreliable and unclear. Worse, the physical effects are totally indeterminable as evidence. However, there’s still some interesting audio.

1 Hell Hole Prison - 9.2

Prisons have long been a terrifying, awful place, regardless of any purported paranormal activity. It’s a concentrated population of immoral, vicious people. Guards and prisoners perpetuate violence within those walls. But in this episode, the crew collects SLS evidence of some remarkably friendly types.

It may sound silly, but an entire band of ghosts appears to perform on a stage. They react with intelligent responses to the team’s communication. It’s a profoundly strange, amusing, and impressive piece of footage. If you believe in the supernatural, and this show, then it’s easy to understand (understand) how it achieved the highest IMDb ranking of all.

NEXT: The 10 Best Ghost/Horror Movies Of All Time, According To IMDb

source https://screenrant.com/ghost-adventures-best-episodes-according-imdb/

[invisible-inkq]

Shatter

Her eyes snapped open, unfocused and staring. It was dark - far too dark, the thing she lay on far too hard for the bed on which she'd fallen asleep earlier. Her body lay there, unmoving and perfectly still, held in stasis and utterly immobile no matter how hard she willed it. The cold familiarity of the feeling began to sink in, her breath - the only sound she could hear - speeding just a hitch. This wasn't right.

A bright white, searing light flickered to life directly overhead, temporarily blinding her. Her head ached from some unseen injury, heart beating faster in response - this couldn't be. Logically, this could not be-

And above her, two hooded figures faded impossibly into view. Their features were blurred, indistinct save for mouths set in perfect, pleasant, agreeable smiles, and eyes that burned with raw green fire.

"It's awake," First smiled, melodious and calm. Second reached out with gentle, delicate and blurred fingers, brushing a warm hand over her forehead and clucking with faint disapproval. "Look here - you've damaged it."

A third cloaked figure came into view and said nothing, waving a hand over her forehead, Light pouring from outstretched fingers and virtually erasing the bruise, the cracked skull. No apology was offered from Third, but First and Second beamed wider still.

She could feel it, the thin trickle of moisture collecting at the corner of one eye, sliding down her cheek. But she could neither blink the tear away, nor stall its slow progression. "It's leaking," First pleasantly observed.

Second clucked again, cupping her cheek with one warm, perfect hand. "Precious little thing," Second cooed, as reassuring as a mother hen, each word spoken with honeyed and cultured precision. "Shiny little locket. Full of secrets, aren't you. Why, that simply won't do. You want to let them out, don't you? Oh, you'll give them to us, won't you?"

She couldn't speak, mouth opened in a rictus of horror, eyes frantically darting from one beauteous smile to the next. First placed a warm palm on her forehead. "It thinks he'll come for it. It thinks it matters!" The hand brushed her hair from her face, fingers catching under her chin, tilting her head this way and that. Gilded spires the color of dawn's radiant light arched overhead, their glory dimmed by the spots in her vision from the brilliant light that still shone on them all.

Second laughed, a musical, artful waterfall of giggles that played like a chilling symphony on her ears. "Silly little locket," Second waved First aside, closing in. "Silly precious little locket, who do you think sent you to us in the first place? Oh but we're wasting time. Such a perfect canvas, wouldn't you agree?" Searing emerald eyes swept to Third, who said nothing at all, merely nodded as Second lifted her hand, eyes glittering with cruel fixation, lips poised in an ever-agreeable smile, and snapped her fingers.

There was a horrifying ricochet of noise, branches being trod on, breaking in quick succession - and then a rush of excruciating pain and the sudden realization that those noises were her limbs, snapping as each bone was broken, one by one by one-

She tried to scream. She couldn't. And just as quickly as it happened, Third waved a hand, the soothing Light radiating over her body and knitting the injuries as if they'd never happened.

First observed the process with clinical detachment, his smile widening ever so slightly in mild approval. "Tell us what you know." It wasn't a request. He waved his hand, and the scream she'd been trying to roar trickled from her mouth in scant, exhausted whisper, breath ragged and dull.

"You aren't real," she managed to croak, before she found herself robbed of voice again.

"It thinks it's clever," First pointed out. The eyes beneath darkened hood flickered dangerously. "Let's correct that."

She didn't know how long it lasted - minutes? Hours? Each wave of pain a blur, immediately followed by a wave of healing, Second and Third working in utter synchronization as they broke her body and mended it, playing a symphony of broken bones and strangled cries. "Tell us what you know," First repeated, periodically, his pleasantly delivered order ignored in the face of sheer agony, his hand, blurred and glinting with rings aplenty, waving and spurring them to new heights.

She knew this. She was here before, she knew this, she knew how it ended and as they continued to press on, she gathered what little paltry rudimentary training she had.

The waves stopped.

"Tell us what you know," First said again.

She didn't reply. She detonated.

It was a trick all of them had been taught, although not a one of them had any reasonable amount of magical aptitude. But every elf in the city was capable of capturing magic - it was an innate part of who they were, after all. And every elf was capable of releasing it. The short burst of arcane torrent wasn't enough to hurt any of the hooded figures, but it was enough to startle them. It was just enough to break First's concentration, and she felt her body abruptly jolt to life in response, limbs on fire. One hand snapped to her pocket, screaming its protests to a body that vetoed them all, fingers plucking what she knew, with utter certainty, was there, and throwing it.

The room exploded in smoke, and when it cleared, she was gone.

 Ink raced down marbled halls, an endless maze of gross opulence fully realized. This was all familiar - the halls, the hooded figures, cruel smiles, elegant Thalassian, the adrenaline coursing down her veins. She counted off the corners in her head, rounding the last with utter certainty -- and there it was, the door to freedom.

But she didn't remember the figure standing in it.

He towered over her, tall and broad-shouldered, the very antithesis of everything the sin'dorei purported to be. Rugged, coarse, crude, and an unexpectedly relieving sight. "Kydin," she breathed.

He stared down at her in curious puzzlement, rolling his shoulder. "The shit are you doin' out 'ere? This ain't the place for you." One ponderous hand closed with warm familiarity around her arm, guiding her down another hall as he shook his head. "Fuck's sake doll, last place I ever 'spected t'see you. Come on."

"We have to go," she replied, following his lead and trying to catch her breath. "Kydin we have to get out of here, you don't understa...." They rounded another corner, and the words died in her throat, lungs struggling for air.

Three hooded figures beamed at her return, their faces fading into familiar features - there, the lady, there, her husband, and third, the doctor...

Her vision swam, fading, as Kydin's hand continued to give her arm an insistent, gentle squeeze. Confused, she stared up at his face – scarred and strangely kind in its consideration of her terror. "Ah, here we are. Now here – this is where you belong," he smiled, the words melting from his mouth in perfectly accented, poised and polished Thalassian.

"Tell us what you know."

Broad fingers squeezed harder, pressure increasing-

Snap.

Ink sat bolt upright, a checked scream dying in her throat as she tried to reconcile and catalogue unfamiliar surroundings. Four walls, a table, a chair, the bed, a roof overhead - a room. Yes. A room, a room at the compound.

She rose with tremulous consideration for her limbs, the pain a phantom pang, one that slowly faded into the fog outside as her breath slowed. Why was she here? More recent memories flitted to the surface – the meeting. The assignment.

Lady Blackarrow smiled, evidentially charmed for some reason. “You should take a few days, stay here, meet people. A little leisure time never hurt anyone.”

With all due expediency, Ink began to pack, hastily stuffing the few belongings she’d brought along into leather satchels and wracking her brain for the closest of her safehouses. ‘Leisure time’ indeed.

Fuck that.

( @verwandeln-characterblog @winterlisse @hippocratic-malediction @lothlin-legacy @theserpentinekiss )