#also andrews apology to mary made me cry....

[summerof336bc]

GOT TO SEE THE CHOSEN IN THE THEATER. IM OFFICIALLY INSANE

[id: a post banner that reads "i'm not christian (just mentally ill)". the background is Leonardo Di Vinci's "The Last Supper". end id]

[fredheads]

WIP WEDNESDAY (special birthday edition)

i flopped hard and did not write a thing for @fredsythes birthday not a special fic and not even a chapter of my own debauchery that i was gonna pass off as a present real quick so in order to make it up here is an extra long wip wednesday for clown au ft. some real gay ass shit ❤️ 🧡 💛 💙 💜 💚🥰pls enjoy

Harry Clayton came jogging up to them then, no longer wearing the blue uniform of the Church School band. He had replaced his trombone in the Neibolt School music room, and had changed into blue jeans and a cream-coloured shirt. A canvas bag flapped against his shoulder. FP noted, almost unthinkingly, how pronounced the muscles in his legs and arms were. Harry was built more solidly than any of them, even Hal and Fred, who were the biggest and tallest, respectively. 

“Hey,” said Harry abruptly, his eyes sliding over Hiram and FP before landing on Fred. “I saw him,” Harry confided, lowering his voice. “The clown. As we were going up Main Street Hill I saw him passing out balloons to kids. 

“It was the same one you talked about. He had a silver suit with orange buttons. And orange hair. And he was smiling, but… there was something wrong about him. He was facing away when I saw him, but as soon as I recognized him he looked at me. And something about him… it scared me. And the paint on his mouth was dripping. It looked like blood.” 

“I told you!” Hiram suddenly shrieked. He threw his ice cream on the ground and covered his face with his hands. “I told you! It’s here!” 

‘Let’s go,” said Fred quickly. His mouth had hardened into a thin line, and his jaw was taut. He touched FP’s shoulder abruptly, and a warmth flared from the place where his fingers pressed. Fred steered them towards the road. “We should f-find the others. Have you g-got the s-s-slides, Harry?” 

“Yeah.” Harry patted his bag. “My dad’s got a lot of stuff about Riverdale. It goes back a long time.” 

“Why’s your dad care so much?” FP asked. His own ice cream had melted down to a stump of cone, and he threw it on the ground as they walked. 

“He thinks it’s interesting. He told me once it was because he wasn’t born here. It’s like he came in in the middle of a movie and-” 

“He w-wants to see the s-start,” Fred said, and Harry smiled at him. 

“Exactly.” 

They found Hal, Mary, and Alice together at the fence bordering the tilt-a-whirl. Mary had been marching with the Boy Scouts, and was wearing her neckerchief and neatly pressed uniform. Alice was eating a stick of spun pink cotton candy and laughing at something one of the others had said. FP gauged by the exhilarated and terrified look on Hal’s face that they might have spent the morning together. The bigger boy was blushing so badly that FP expected smoke to start spiraling out of his ears. 

“W-We’re g-going to my h-house,” Fred explained. “H-Harry’s going to s-show us the puh-pictures.” 

The smiles disappeared from their faces, replaced by the serious looks of small adults. They walked in a solemn pack through the crowded streets and away from the festival, pushing their bikes by the handlebars. Fred’s house stood vacant and quiet, though music and fanfare from downtown floated very faintly over the tops of the neighbourhood trees. A tattered row of pinwheels turned doggedly in his neighbour’s garden. Fred pulled up the garage door and began setting up the projector while the others pulled up boxes and stools to use as chairs. 

FP stared at a photo tacked above Artie Andrews’ workbench. It was a ragged snapshot of the Andrews family on vacation. Oscar was there, sandwiched between his mother and father with a hand in each of theirs. And Fred was standing at his father’s shoulder, his head leaning against Artie’s arm, beaming at the camera. He looked very young and very happy. 

FP had a fantasy sometimes of telling Mr. and Mrs. Andrews off for the way they treated Fred. In this fantasy he was usually over at the Andrews house, maybe eating dinner or sitting with Fred at the kitchen island. The air was thick and painful, and Fred was trying to talk to his parents, and they were ignoring him. FP could see the tears welling up in Fred’s eyes, and his jaw was clenched like he was trying his hardest to be brave, but he was hurting. FP saw him hurting and it made him lose his cool a bit. 

In this daydream he jumped up and laid into both of them, really blew up and gave them the business. Fred looked embarrassed, a little, but grateful too. He looked at FP with stars in his eyes, like no one had ever done something like that for him before. FP indulged himself in this vision the way he did his dreams of becoming a rock star or a stand up comic in his adult life - it had the same mythical, incandescent quality as those daydreams, though this particular one recurred with frightening severity. 

“You’d better start treating your son right,” he told Mr. and Mrs. Andrews. In this fantasy he also had a strong, gravelly tough-guy voice, like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. He was suave. He meant business. “Do you hear me? Oscar’s gone, but Fred’s not. Fred’s still here. And your son is the smartest, strongest person I’ve ever met, and you don’t even know it.” 

His arm would go around Fred, then, wrapping around his broad back and holding him tight. Fred’s parents looked shamed, but FP wasn’t done. No, they’d know when he was done. He was just getting started. “This whole time you’ve been ignoring him he’s been braver than you’ve ever been in your life,” FP told them, and his voice rang out across the dining room clear as a bell. 

Sometimes Artie started to give him some trouble, but FP stopped him cold every time. 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he would say to Artie Andrews, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t wanna hurt you, but I swear to God, I will. If you make him cry again, I swear to God you’ll regret it.” (He savoured these particular words like spun sugar in his mouth, reciting them sometimes in the veil between dreaming and waking like an actor rehearsing for his opening scene.) 

Fred would pull on his sleeve, but FP wouldn’t be calmed. He was a loose cannon. “I’m not crying,” Fred would say sometimes, wiping his eyes and trying to be brave, and that would make FP hold him tighter. 

Artie always apologized. They both did. “Don’t say sorry to me, you say sorry to him,” FP would order, and Fred would turn to him with those wide, adoring eyes in which FP could see reflected all the stars in the universe, and a tear would tremble on the rim of his lower lashes. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Fred would say when they were alone. He wouldn’t stutter either - FP would have fixed that one up too. 

“Sure I did, kid,” FP said. “You’re my best friend, aren’t you?” 

And Fred would smile at him, a smile that was brave and hopeful and then he would 

(NO! NO NO NO!) 

(yes yes he would KISS-)

kiss FP on the cheek, only here the dream would be so bright and wonderful that FP would come to in a start, would throw it off blushing with his tongue drier than sawdust and his stomach cramping madly, the dream and reality overlapping in lovely translucent strips so that flashes of it were still visible - Fred’s hand on his wrist, Fred’s hot dry lips on his cheek, and then he would leave it entirely with superhuman effort and go back to the start like rewinding a tape, sitting at the kitchen table, telling Fred’s parents that they’d better wise up. 

He got as far as telling Artie off the second time around when he looked up suddenly and realized he was the only one still standing in the middle of the garage. Mary was sitting on a folding chair to his right, asking him what the hell he was doing. FP dropped quickly onto a nearby crate and shook the dream out of his head. 

“Just thinking me thinks,” he said glibly, crossing one ankle on top of his knee and bouncing it, and Mary shook her head slightly and turned away. 

Fred pulled down the garage door, sealing out the light. In the moment before FP’s eyes adjusted to the pitch black, he had a horrible thought. Suppose something reached out of the dark and grabbed his neck, or a set of teeth fastened in his leg? Suppose the clown was behind them all now? Then the projector flashed on, illuminating a square of flat garage wall, and the breath came back to his body. 

“Some of these pictures go back hundreds of years, my dad said,” Harry explained. He was feeding slides into Artie Andrews’ projector, his broad shoulders silhouetted very handsomely in the blue light. “When you all were talking about the clown, I realized I’d seen something like it before. And after I saw it today, I’m sure I recognized him.” 

“You recognized him?” Alice asked, sounding horrified. 

“Look.” 

The slide clicked into place, throwing an outline of a photo on the garage wall. The projection was a scan of a black-and-white ink sketch, showing a clown entertaining a group of children. The children were smiling, but the clown was not. Its mouth drooped down in a sorrowful frown, its eyes gloomy black pits. There was an awful aura about the antique photo, as though the black and white lines radiated malice. 

PENNYWISE THE CLOWN read old-timey writing across the bottom. 

“What’s the date on this?” Hal asked. 

“My dad says this one is from the early seventeen hundreds. Back when Riverdale was just a beaver trapping camp.” 

This phenomenal news rocketed FP into action. “Still is! Am I right, boys?” FP shoved Hiram hard with his elbow and threw a hand up for a high five. Hiram looked at him blankly. Fred frowned. Mary shook her head at him until FP put his hand back down.

[queerchoicesblog]

Lost Without You (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele)

A bit later than announced but finally here is my Adele POV fanfic mirroring my very first Titanic work Ghost of You. I added some background to Adele’s past and her survival guilt/trama as well but Zetta always finds a way back into our fave suffragette's mind...and heart.

Thank you all once again for the amazing support showed with my previous work: I can’t tell how much it means to me! Hope you will enjoy this one too!

Disclaimers: I quoted some pieces of dialogue from the original book + I won’t mark this ns*w but this fanfic contains references to sexual activity: if it makes you uncomfortable, please skip it! You have been warned!

Word Count: 1988

Zetta x Adele Tag: @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed @eleanorwaverrley @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @lvcley @nazario-sayeed (+  @andi-the-cat as I have a feeling you like fics that coshowing back stories as well as references to our beloved Hileni: ignore it if you’re not interested!)

_______________________________

Adele walked Miss Sansom, a very chatty yet exquisitely nice old lady who was a regular customer of the hat shop, to the door, helping her maid with the pile of boxes containing the lady’s latest purchases. Miss Sansom immediately took a liking for the Carrem girls and always made sure to leave them a generous tip: Adele suspected that their status of “Titanic survivors” somehow influenced the lady’s genuine inclination towards philanthropy.

She lingered on the threshold until the two women disappeared from view, then she walked back to the counter and secured the coins she got in the tip jar beside the cash register. When they hit the bottom, she turn towards the main window and let her eyes wander on the street. A couple was laughing at a silly joke, two men, probably accountants were discussing the latest baseball match, the baker next door was ushering two giggling troublemakers out of his shop. Despite the leaves were now turning red on the trees, life was still blossoming. There were always places to go, things to see and to do in New York. Life was going on, for anyone except for her. 

For the first time in her life, she was unable to move on and look ahead…which was ironic considering that she had always been the one encouraging people not to dwell into the past and look and fight for a brighter future. She never rested, she marched in the first row at every protest, she ran fast like an avalanche away from the policemen and whoever could hold her back…now she was stuck, frozen in place. She was haunted by that night, the faces of all those people running and screaming in terror, the lifeless bodies of Gustav and her stewardess floating in the freezing water…Charlie looking at her on the lifeboat, anger and disappointment written all over his face: “I thought you knew me, Adal, but you don’t know me at all” before turning his back to her. He never spoke to her again and Adele knew she had lost a friend.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the glass: a pale static ghost in complete dissonance with the world on the other side. “How can they go on? How can they go on with their lives as if nothing happened?”. The reason was simple: they didn’t embark on the Titanic so they couldn’t understand what surviving felt like. They would throw an absent look at the newspapers announcing the official investigation over the sinking of the Titanic: in the end, the mighty “Queen of the Sea” truly made headlines. Just not what Mr Andrews, John Jacob Astor and the White Star Line pictured: tragedy and shame instead of shiny glory.

To be honest, though, even some of those who were on the cursed ship seemed to move forward. Matteo seemed to adjust well to his new life in America or so it seemed to her by the few letters he sent her. Hileni was recovering surprisingly well too. She probably tried to conceal it out of respect for her sister’s mourning, but she liked her new life: she immediately befriended the shop owner and his wife, she slowly but consistently started using new terms of the American slang she heard in the street. Adele suspected that she was quite smitten with the new delivery boy as well as starstruck for the motion pictures: they could only afford the ticket once in London and in New York she quickly turned into a regular at the surprisingly cheap nickelodeons. As a proof, a picture of a popular heartthrob of the big screen was now pinned over her bed.

America must have this effect on most, Adele considered.

“Lives, loves, the past – they’re worthless. Throw it all away and remake yourself. That’s the American dream right here”

She grimaced as Zetta’s words echoed in her mind out of the blue. She could still see her smirking at her in her suite on their first meeting, rather proud of her witty apology of the American dream that meant so much to her. She had to build a new self and a new life right from scratch in this country, breaking free from a liar, one of the many men who betrayed her. But now those words acquired a whole new and very painful meaning.

“Lives, loves, the past – they’re worthless. Throw it all away…”

Was she part of that worthless past to Zetta now? She hadn’t heard from her since they reached shore, even though she kept haunting her dreams from time to time. Her words of love, the desperate kiss they shared on the deck of the sinking ship, how she held her tight as she couldn’t stop crying on the lifeboat…she never left her side even on the Carpathia. Then she lost sight of her: she stroke her cheek and said she was going to ask for another blanket as the one Adele had wrapped over her shoulder was damp, sending chills down her spine but she never returned. Was she intercepted by her fiancé or was it a dramatic exit? Adele decided to leave it unanswered: it didn’t matter now, now Zetta was gone.

Undoubtedly, she had been busy with her new life since that day. Her “renaissance” as she called it at the Turkish baths. As the memory of that day resurfaced, Adele turned her back to the window and had to summon all her strength not to shed a tear.  She remembered every single moment of that day: Zetta, a vision, a goddess in her silky robe, patting the chair beside her, the heart-breaking grief on her face as she recalled James’s evil scheme, then her smile brightening again: she trusted her, permanently and till the end of time. When she smirked at her, Adele couldn’t help but blush like a schoolgirl and when she shared the true meaning of her renaissance and all the brilliant roles she would have loved to get before she couldn’t act anymore, the Carrem girl felt that she could have listened to her for hours: Zetta was a treasure chest full of wonders when she let her walls down and one of the most interesting and smartest women Adele had ever met, way more than just “a pretty face”. As she brushed a strand of damp hair out of her eye, the urge of kiss those soft lips became almost unbearable.

Adele had never experienced the state of pure bliss that washed over her under Zetta’s touch and kisses. Her moves were filled with desire but also adoration as if she was worshipping the girl in her arms. Adele had never been worshipped by anyone even though she had stolen moments of pleasure in the back alleys of London with her first love and a couple of factory girls. But those encounters were rushed, messy: hands fumbling to reach under the skirts, furtive glances around, the haste to elicit muffled moans before someone might catch you. Instead, even though the risk of being discovered was there, in Zetta’s loving arms she forgot about the world for a moment. She walked back to her cabin humming an old pub song of a poor sailor dreaming the golden hair of his rich lady lover. “Let me drown myself in the bottle of her perfume” she sang changing into her nightgown as Lena noted that she was in surprisingly good spirit that night.

Right now it all felt like…a foolish dream. A beautiful fantasy. The suffragette and the movie star, the factory girl and the first-class lady, two women so different from each other that became closer than they ever thought possible. They were just drawn to each other like magnets and in Zetta’s arms Adele felt safe, despite James’ scheme.

Adele found herself asking herself if in the end, deep down, that was what their romance had been to Zetta: a fantasy, a sweet dream bounded to end as they docked in New York, where she had a career and an enamored fiancé impatiently waiting for her. It was in every magazine, everyone was talking about the upcoming wedding and the movie star who survived the sinking. The other day two ladies came in and asked her a hat “just like the one Zetta Serda wears here”, pointing at a picture of Zetta arm in arm with Richard King in a fancy venue.  

Adele tried to remind herself that it wasn’t the first time a woman she loved went down that path, consequently disappearing from her life. She had been there before with sweet Marie, the girl next door who soon became her best friend and eventually more. She could still see her first love tremble as she whispered “Adele” over her lips before claiming them in a shy kiss. After a year, she received a proposal from Jack one of the lads at the factory. “Father suggested it is for the best: Jack is a fine young man, he…likes Jack”, she said, avoiding her gaze. Her father surely didn’t like the Carrem girl, who spoke Turkish and read Mary Wollstonecraft’s books. Adele remembered how she felt her stomach turn at that confession. Eventually, she went to the wedding, where Marie’s parents openly avoided her: she danced with the lads, congratulated Jack and hugged her friend, wishing her all the best for her future. Then, once she closed the door behind her at home, she collapsed to the ground, crying all the tears she had swallowed back: after Mother and Papa, she had lost her only love. Her sobs woke Hileni, who was too young at the time to realize or understand but her little sister wrapped her tiny arms around her, begging her to stop crying because “I am here, Adal”.

Yet that reminder brought no comfort to her this time. It did in the past, but not now, not when it came to losing Zetta.

Adele shook her head: there was no point in dwelling in such thoughts, they would not bring the woman she loved back, they would only make her heart ache more. As if on cue, a new customer walked into the shop, saving her from a grim memory lane: the Carrem girl was silently grateful to the oblivious man asking for a bowler hat.

Later that day, as she was closing up, Tim, the delivery boy stopped by.

"Hey, Miss Adele! Mail for you" he announced chirpily, handing her a letter.

"Just Adele is fine, Tim, remember?" she corrected him, offering a tired smile.

"I wasn't expecting any mail though..." she added, taking the letter into her hands.

"It better be something nice, Adele, cause I didn't go all this way to make you sad" he gallantly commented, tapping his head and winking encouragingly before walking back to his bike. "Have a nice evening!"

Adele looked down at the letter with a mix of confusion and anxiety: could it be bad news? Maybe from Blighty? No, the stamp was American and there was no indication that it could be the police or James...the penmanship looked familiar though: where had she seen it before? Unable to remember, she unsealed it and she found out that it was an invitation to the premiere screening of Zetta's latest film, Surviving the Titanic. So, Zetta didn't forget about me..., Adele though as a familiar warmth spread inside her. Unless it was Sabine's idea -Sabine! That was her writing! - but no, for some reason she couldn't believe that: perhaps this could be a new start, their new start. God, how she missed her...

When she reached to get the two tickets, a slip of paper fell from the folds of the invitation right on the counter. It was handwritten and the penmanship was different. Zetta's?

"Please come, my love. I must see you again. Yours, Zetta"

The last ray of sun illuminated Adele's face. A tear rolled down her cheek as her lips curled into a smile.

Yes, it would have been a new start, their new start.

[mittensmorgul]

Hello. Is there a chance that you know when the decision about Chuck beeing the villain of the entire show was made? And more specifically was season 9 written with this point of view?

Hi there! I’m sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for a few days, but I’ve been turning it over and over in my head trying to figure out how to actually answer. Because I don’t think this is something that was like the writers just suddenly decided, and began plotting everything else in the story around that fact, you know? And while it might be interesting to puzzle over, it doesn’t affect how I personally engage with the show.

I’ve written many times about the difference between a Watsonian Reading of a text versus a Doylist Reading of a text, and why sometimes understanding the Doylist might inform the watsonian read you’re willing to accept, so I can understand the interest in wondering if there was a moment in the writing room where it was declared that Chuck Was Not A Good Guy, and that the entire story should be told with that underlying assumption. For me, personally, it’s been clear since 4.18 that Chuck was not really a good guy, long before it was revealed that he was really God.

Was this always the intent of the writers? We just don’t know. I don’t think it matters. He always came across to me (ESPECIALLY in 5.22) as a self-important dick... but I know a lot of people really love his monologue on everything, and have always had rather warm feelings about it. So was their intent to make him seem smugly self-satisfied from the start, or is that an angle that later showrunners and writers seized upon and played up? Does it even matter when the story has made it clear now that Chuck has been the villain of the entire show from the start?

I understand how my personal opinion from the start here has probably made it easier for me to roll with the more recent canon revelations about Chuck than it would be for folks who have always believed that Chuck was a Good Guy from the start, that God would ultimately be on their side, or that if God wasn’t actively helping them, it was only because he was testing them or having them prove themselves to themselves or whatever. I understand people have clung to the notion that he was essentially still a good guy, even through all the shadiness. I just... could never see him that way.

ESPECIALLY after s11. I don’t think Chuck’s characterization has really changed since then. It’s just been... unmasked for what it really is. I think everything Chuck The Prophet was saying back in 4.18 about being a cruel and capricious god was... pretty on the nose. Then again, I’m fairly sure that Andrew Dabb took over the showrunning duties in mid-s11, and began setting up what he knew would eventually become the series endgame run, with Chuck as the final big bad. So that run up to the end of s11... was Dabb’s doing...

I don’t really know how much Chuck’s character (his fictional being, in addition to just... his personality, like how we’d talk about the character of real people, the quality of his essential being or whatever) played a part in the writing from 5.22 when he “vanished” through 10.05 when he appeared to tell Marie “not bad” at the end of her musical, and then again from that point until he dragged Metatron to the bar at the end of the universe in 11.20. I’m fairly certain that as soon as they began writing s11 and determined that Amara would be “God’s sister” that they knew that Chuck would have to make an appearance eventually. And the entire storyline of the MoC having been derailed and repurposed in mid s10 likely facilitated the escalation of the story. But again... I’ve written heckloads of stuff about s10, the accordion plot, how Carver had been writing toward a series finale in 10 until they got word they’d be renewed and wanted to keep going, and jerked the whole story onto a completely different narrative track in the back half of s10. As a seasonal arc, s10 will forever be my least favorite, because it’s just... a mess. Yes, even s6 comes across more coherent than s10, just looking at the overarching narrative structure. Episode wise, s10 probably wins for a few stellar entries, but yeeeeeesh, it’s a structural disaster overall.

But I have a tag for that, and lots and lots of posts, and Carver himself saying that this was exactly what happened there, so... I think it’s probably valid to say that the writers really hadn’t even thought much about Chuck until the MoC became about the Darkness in 10.23, and then they had to invent a whole mythology to bring in this super-powerful God-level power to the story, and “God’s sister!” sounded like a solid plan...

So I’d say that Chuck was being set up at that point to have to answer for his “original crime” of locking up the Darkness, you know? Though I don’t know how much of how it played out by the end of s11 was Carver’s doing, or Dabb’s. I am fairly certain that from the moment Dabb took over (quietly mid-s11, and possibly knowing he’d be tapped to take over before then and beginning to lay down tracks toward his eventual story plan, and then completely by 11.23) that what we’re seeing play out in s15 was always his intent.

But in s9? I don’t think Chuck was really even on any of the writers’ radar, at all. Even if they all were working from the perspective that he was God in the Supernatural universe. I just don’t think it affected what they were writing, you know?

Well, I mean, there’s earlier episodes where God was referenced... I mean 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon (hey, written by Dabb!) where we learned that God knew all about their problems, but he didn’t think it was HIS problem... I mean from that moment on, it’s really difficult to think of God as a charcacter who’s on their side, you know? And the end of the story he’d been content with was Sam in Hell for eternity, and Dean miserable in suburbia for eternity, and Cas probably being subjugated by Heaven and the Apocalypse starting again anyway... I mean... ew...

Or in 6.20, when Cas prayed to God, begging for a sign, begging for help, to do the right thing, he got NOTHING in return, zip, zilch. He did the only thing he could, and in retrospect, wasn’t releasing the leviathans something Chuck was probably deliriously happy about? More monsters and mayhem! A beloved hero character becoming the villain in the process! I mean, in s9 when Metatron was “Playing God” and trying to write his own story of the universe, isn’t this exactly the story he wanted to create too? Kinda on the nose there, even if they weren’t actively portraying Chuck himself as the bad guy here. They were explicitly telling us that Metatron was literally rewriting God’s playbook as self-insert fanfic.

So even if they weren’t actively writing Chuck as the big bad, they used Metatron-- the scribe of God-- to fulfill that function. In 11.20, when Chuck talks with Metatron about his turn playing God:

CHUCK: You know, you really are a terrific editor, Metatron.METATRON: (Chuckles.) Well, I was a terrible writer. A worse god. It's good I've got something going for me.CHUCK: (Takes off his glasses and stops typing.) Yeah, you know, I have to say, I didn't see the whole evil-turn thing coming.METATRON: Mm-hmm.

CHUCK: (Chuckling.) Why did you try to be me?METATRON: That was just a sad, pathetic cry for attention.CHUCK: (Chuckling.) Who's attention were you trying to get?METATRON: Yours.

He takes all of this and tries to turn it around, to deflect blame from himself as if he hadn’t literally done everything Metatron did, and more.

METATRON: It wasn't just the saps who were praying to you. The angels prayed, too. And so did I – every day.CHUCK: I know.METATRON: You want to sell the best-selling autobiography of all time? You explain to me – Tell me why you abandoned me. Us.CHUCK: Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me.METATRON: (Stands up and looks at CHUCK with wet eyes.) No, look. I know I'm a disappointment, but you're wrong about humanity. They are your greatest creation because they're better than you are.(CHUCK starts to look more guilty as he looks at METATRON.)METATRON: Yeah, sure, they're weak and they cheat and steal and... destroy and disappoint. But they also give and create and they sing and dance and love. And above all, they never give up! But, you do!

But even after Metatron’s sacrifice, even after everything nearly falls apart, Chuck STILL tries to weasel out of responsibility for anything, still tries to deflect and minimize, even blames Amara for why he had to lock her away in the first place. And that hasn’t changed about him one whit, from the start right through the present. It’s always been an essential part of his character, and he’s been called out on it repeatedly in s15 by Becky, by Amara, by Sam, by Dean... probably by Michael, too. Like... this is how he’s always been, it’s how he’s always been written, even if the intent had never been to explicitly unmask him as the ultimate big bad of the entire series until the end of s11.

Like Amara accused him in 11.22:

Chuck: I'm sorry. For this, for everything.Amara: An apology at last. What's sorry to me? I spent millions of years crammed in that cage... alone... and afraid, wishing -- begging for death, because of you! And what was my crime, brother?!Chuck: The world needed to be born! And you wouldn't let me! Amara, you give me no choice.Amara: That's your story. Not mine. The real reason you banished me, why I couldn't be allowed to exist... you couldn't stand it. No, we were equals. We weren't great or powerful, because we stood only in relation to each other. You think you made the archangels to bring light? No. You made them to create lesser beings, to make you large, to make you Lord. It was ego! You wanted to be big!

and he admitted to Becky in 15.04:

CHUCK: Things were said. Uh… Now I’ve found msyself low on, um… resources. I went to ask my sister for help, and she rejected me. ‘Cause she sucks. And now I’m just… stuck. So, I thought I’d come see you, my number-one fan. And, I don’t know, see if you can help make me feel big again.BECKY: So, you want me to… fluff you?CHUCK: I mean, no.BECKY: You do. You thought you could just come back to me, your pathetic ex, your number-one fan, and get what you’ve always gotten from me… a nice big crank on your ego.

Meanwhile, in 11.22, Amara had asked him if he wouldn’t change, why should she? Yet... she DID change, beginning in 11.23 when she reconciled with Chuck. Only... he never did change at all.

So... to finally circle back to your question again... I don’t know if it’s relevant what the writers were thinking about Chuck and any random potential for him to return to the story in any capacity, let alone as God, let alone as the eventual Ultimate Series Big Bad back when they were writing s9. I don’t even think God/Chuck was on their radar at all, because I don’t think the entire MoC storyline was crafted with the end result that it would be the key to the Darkness’s prison. At least not way back in s9 when the MoC was dreamed up. It only ever evolved into that because of the narrative disaster of the s10 plot accordion. Which is why, while I fucking HATE s10 for it, I can’t be all that mad about what it unwittingly brought about, either.

Heck I hope any of this makes any sense whatsoever. This is one of those subjects that’s just like “insert key, wind mittens up, watch her go” :’D

[staliasjeronica]

Riverdale 3.01 Thoughts *spoilers*

- the kids... are JUNIORS? Uh okay.

- VERONICA. MY LOVE. MY BABY. IN A POP’S OUTFIT!!!

- still iffy about Betty being in law... like where’d it come from? Her likeness of it? It’s probably just because of Archie’s trial and the fact that she constantly breaks the law, but still... it seemed to come out of nowhere

- In the narration he talked about Archie, Betty, and Veronica being the “best friends you’ll ever have” and I’m just stating that that means that Jeronica are officially best friends! Y E S BITCH!

- did this bitch seriously just call Nick St. Claire... INNOCENT? And brought up the fact that he pulled a gun on Sweet Pea? I’ve always wanted that confrontation but NOT LIKE THIS.

- MARY ANDREWS! A fucking legend! Her speech was incredible, too. Like, if I was a Riverdale resident and didn’t know Archie, I would definitely believe that he was innocent. But of course something stupid like Archie being a dumbass (love you though, Arch) is going to fuck everything up 🙄🙄🙄

- JOSIE AND KEVIN STANDING SIDE BY SIDE IS ALL I NEEDED!!! I can’t wait to see more of them as step siblings and shit. Maybe she can convince Kevin not to get with Moose lmao I hate him so fucking much

- HIRAM YOU DO NOT GET TO FUCKING TALK TO ARCHIE YOU LITTLE BITCH

- I’VE SEEN SPOILERS SO I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE FRED PUNCH A BITCH

- As amazing as that was though... THAT WOULDN’T HELP ARCHIE’S CASE IT WOULD MAKE IT WORSE!!!

- lmao Hiram gets angry and pushes the guy who kept him from getting back at Fred as if he didn’t start it what a bitch

- dilton and Ben... are really gonna die aren’t they. This is a Midge situation— bring them back to kill them wow... also why does Dilton look like he could be Sweet Pea’s younger brother...

- so both Veronica and Jughead got chocolate shakes. I’m not saying they’re soulmates... but they’re soulmates and I don’t care what Camila says about Jeronica... they’re meant to be together oops

- CHERYL MY BISEXUAL/LESBIAN QUEEN!!!! MAKING HER FUCKING ENTRANCE!

- but it’s so sad that she made the effort to invite all of them to her party but they couldn’t make an exception to couples weekend... like I know it helped Cheryl get with Toni but that’s just... sad.

- ALSO CHERY’S JACKET IM WHEEZING CALL AN AMBULANCE

- of course Choni had three months of development but we won’t see it 🙃🙃🙃

- can’t really hear what Alice and Polly are really saying... but I definitely heard Alice say “ritual” and you never hear that word unless you’re in a cult wake the fuck up alice you can’t be more fucked up than Betty and Polly you need to help save them

- Dr. Glass... therapist? Mmhm but wouldn’t they tell her that she’s too reliant and co-dependent on Jughead and hopefully break them up? I call bullshit on this therapist

- BARCHIE + FRED WORKING ON A CAR TOGEHER WOW WE LOVE A FUTURE ENDGAME BEING HOT ASS MECHANICS TOGETHER WITH HER FUTURE FAMILY

- “we did it dad” the way he said this... might have made me choke... it was so happy and excited, like a kid. I’m NOT CRYING OKAY

- “just in time” *Fred immediately avoids eye contact with Archie before stating he’s going back into the house* BITCH HE’S GOING IN THERE TO CRY HUH LIKE HE’S THINKING ABOUT HIS SON GOING TO JAIL THIS IS HORRIBLE.

- “the jury is still deliberating, you don’t need to put your house in order” Betty... it’s called JUST IN CASE. Plus it would ease his mind so... shut up lmao

- THE TEARS IN RONNIE’S EYES AS SHE’S CONFRONTING HER FATHER BBY NOOOO

- ALSO SHE HAS TO LIVE UNDER THE SAME ROOF AS HIM IM SO SORRY SWEETIE GO LIVE WITH JUG OR MOVE IN WITH FRED! She doesn’t deserve this you bitch ass Hiram

- also I’m sad that Hiram doesn’t have a bruise from Fred punching him

- I’ll say it until I die but I’m just gonna say it now: HIRAM IS A BITCH ASS HOE! He literally destroyed Archie’s life and devastated his daughter... all for a fucking P R I S O N

- SWEET PEA AND FANGS HAVE OFFICIALLY BLESSED MY SCREENS YAY. Also Fangs your bisexual ass is showing with that extremely open shirt... and Sweet Pea... you fucking too lmao I love Swangs (no hate but I’m also kinda here for Swosie even though it’s just a fling)

- it’s... so annoying... that Hiram is with the Ghoulies, yet makes out the Serpents to be the worst. Like Hiram your bought gang members are cannibals (apparently), and are the ACTUAL gang that sells and distributes Jingle Jangle soooo wtf

- Jug... you can’t send Fangs without backup. I REPEAT YOU CANNOT SEND FANGS WITHOUT SOME BACKUP! He got shot once and I swear if he’s hurt again I’m going to end you. I only care about certain people: Sweet Pea, Fangs, Cheryl, Toni, Veronica, and Archie... so if you get one of them hurt you’re dead to me

- we all been knew that Archie’s tattoo was fake but LOOK AT FP IN GLASSES I’M

- I love Betty with these outfits. They’re really nice tbh

- Alice... you can’t burn SOMEONE ELSE’S JOURNAL! Also yeah it’s filled with negative shit but that’s why it’s written in journals... to vent and get it over with.

- also if you have to reference someone (Edgar) every sentence you know you’re probably too reliant on them

- although what Alice says about sitting still and shit is kinda true I guess. Betty doesn’t need to be constantly figuring shit out but I’ll just pretend I never agreed with the woman in a fucking cult

- is Polly gonna tell her about her Betty’s “darkness” because PLEASE(or the webcamming). When Alice gets better she can call Betty out on her shit.

- Cheryl’s a queen, I love her place, but Moose is here so uhhhh ew.

- SWOSIE BITCHES!!!! I saw gifs of it and I love it

- “not even a tall, cool drink of sweet water like you...” as she STROKES HIS FUCKING CHEST I’M

- but he was so happy and cute “I can’t wait to see you in the hallways”

- BITCH SWEET PEA IS A ROMANTIC WHAT

- the way he leans back into the kiss is everything, and the way he watches her leave I’m star struck goodbye

- you give me Swosie just to immediately go to Mevin? You couldn’t have gone to another couple at least? Don’t ruin the moment ugh

- Kevin... is proposing... a sex pact? Wtf? But Moose looks so uncomfortable, which I find actually pretty sad. Kevin wants someone who’s out, who isn’t afraid to be with him in public and that person isn’t Moose. He was really happy with Joaquin and now that he knows why Joaquin was slightly distant there’ll be no secrets between them so... bring Joaquin back so Joavin can rise again you cowards! Moose needs to find himself, but he shouldn’t bring Kevin with him. He needs to go through this by himself.

- mmhm Reggie not giving a damn about Archie’s (fake) Serpent tattoo... I want to see Reggie apologize to the Serpents (and also find out that Sweet Pea is his brother oops)

- oh Bc Archie asks Reggie’s cool with the Serpents. I DEFINITELY need an apology right fucking now, Mantle.

- “whatcha thinking bout, babe?” BABE. B A B E. BABE BABE BABE BABE BABE BABE BABE

- I have subtitles on and it says “Tee-Tee” NO ITS T-T (or just TT)

- poor Cheryl 😭😭😭

- but also why the fuck is there a couch outside by the pool lmao

- Veronica is constantly about to cry and I’m... with her. I’m gonna cry too STAWP

- YAS JOSIE!!!!

- dilton... we were all excited to see you again but now you’re just being a creepy weirdo so...

- FANGS MY BBY

- UMMMMMM LEAVE HOTDOG ALONE

- lmao Betty seems so out of place at this little Serpent meeting... she really does not belong there

- “the Serpent Queen is a Warrior queen” the next fucking sentence better be Toni or Sweet Pea shutting her the fuck down. If she was a “Serpent Queen” she would ACTUALLY TRULY care about the Serpents instead of joining so she can stay closer to Jughead and shit

- Sweet Pea slightly shook his head in the background so I’m just gonna... pretend he told Betty to shut the fuck up

- Betty’s gonna fuck everything up and then blame it on someone else isn’t she

- Awww Archie overhearing his parents talking about Archie and the trial. “Even I couldn’t stop Hiram Lodge from getting his claws into our son” STAWP 😭😭😭

- Archie thinks that he deserves this? Bitch BETTY is the one who’s done actual (okay well the worst crimes of the group) crimes but her bitch ass isn’t going to jail! She never gets any repurcussions. If anyone deserves going to jail it’s Betty

- Sheriff Minetta... no one misses you

- Betty has her own Serpent jacket... I mean thanks I hate it but I also hate to admit that she looks actually good in it. Still doesn’t deserve to be a Serpent she’s done nothing for them except bone their “leader”

- lmao Cheryl is strong af pushing Betty back into the car.

- Jughead... do you seriously think they’re going to let you leave with Hot Dog? Lmao maybe you do deserve Betty you two are both idiots

- YASSS CHERYL FUCK MALACHAI UPPPPP

- this weird dream of Archie’s was pretty cool. I was confused for a second but still it was really awesome

- of course the one thing Betty ACTUALLY needs and she lies about it. Also, add forging prescriptions to her list of criminal offenses. Can you just once write Betty to be likable? When she comforted Veronica was great (although still need an apology from her) but that Serpent queen line... omfg no

- although they’re a part of a fucking cult Polly is making some great points.

- YOUNGBLOOD BY 5SOS!!

- So... despite being invited by Cheryl to her party they don’t invite her or anyone else to the fucking water hole place? Wtf

- “last one in gets a sticky maple!” That’s... kind of rude considering what Chuck did to Veronica. Speaking of where is Chuck? Did they start that redemption ark for NOTHING? Also the statement is worse when V is the last to jump in...

- wow look at Varchie being the hottest couple (there. The hottest couple is obviously Choni)

- Jughead you’re not supposed to burn the marshmallows

- JUGHEAD YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL ARCHIE TO MAKE A RUN FOR IT YOU STUPID FUCK

- YES BETTY! GET SOME FUCKING HELP

- If Jughead supports this, they will finally being going in a good direction? For once? Like if you’re going to force this disgusting ship on us at least make them healthy and tolerable

- I hate them but the beanie scene was cute. Probably because Cole actually improvised that

- When Varchie’s scene was still much better, hotter, and aesthetic than Betty and Jughead’s lmao thank you Riverdale

- why do they make Varchie cuter when they’re going to end them? This is bullshit

- hey maybe if they make Betty and Jughead cuter (cause let’s be honest they’ve had like two cute scenes that I’ll admit to lol) they’ll end their relationship too

- VEGAS

- what the fuck dilton lol

- “we can talk about this when I get back” wow that’s a surefire way to make sure that Dilton dies

- like I said Archie does something stupid and ruins EVERYTHING.

- Archie... if you’re FIGHTING FOR YOUR LIFE no one FUCKING cares that they’d have to go through this shit again. I love you but you’re stupid as fuck

- Veronica 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- ARCHIE’S LAST WORDS WILL BE “I love you, Veronica” IM SOBBING

- Veronica’s look to Hiram is lethal and I’m here for it.

- Honestly... if they somehow manage to make this about Betty I’ll scream because we all know Betty has to be interwoven into every plot

- DADS OF RIVERDALE FUCK YEAH

- ALL OF THEM WORKING TOGETHER? YES BITCH

- AND VERONICA STILL HAS TO GO HOME WITH HIRAM?

- honestly though why didn’t they make her testify awhile ago? They said it was too late but her statement would help? She LIVES with the man, she could easily tell them about how much of a master manipulator he is like... what the fuck

- literally Veronica just wear a wire around Hiram so you can implicate him. He legit just told you that he did all of this to get back at you for choosing him over blood (also wow so healthy)

- “you don’t have a daughter anymore” we love and stan Veronica

- so... Jug shouldn’t have gone alone but uhh Dilton is fucking dead

- um what the fuck is with the babies... and also why is Betty convulsing? Probably gonna be blamed on the supernatural instead of her Adderral. (Also I just reached the limit of this holy fuck lmao)

[oscars-wifeyyy]

History - FP Jones x Reader

This is my first imagines ever so forgive me for being bad

Story: (Y/N) was FP’s best friend, but Gladys comes in the picture and they fade until years later, Gladys leaves him and FP sees you in the Whyte Wyrm

A/N: EVERYONE IS AROUND 29 IN THIS IMAGINE

(Y/N) walked into the Pop’s, plopping down in a booth to order some milk shakes while waiting for her best friends, Fred Andrews, Forsythe Pendleton II. The three were inseparable until Gladys came in the picture in high school, resulting to (Y/N) hanging out with Fred Andrews more. Fred, Mary, and you were in Pop’s and Fred had his arm around Mary while (Y/N) sat across them, causing her to blush when she saw them kiss because she never had a boyfriend, let alone a kiss. Fred noticed and smirked, knowing you never had a person do that with you. All three of you ordered milkshakes and fries and when you guys were finished and started fishing out the money needed to buy your stuff, Fred held his hand over yours, forcing you to put back your money.

“I got this, sweetheart,” Fred winked at you.

“No. I ordered my part and I am going to pay for my part.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

Fred quickly took the check and Fred’s money and ran to Pop’s while you ran after him to get back the check to add your part with Mary laughing at you two, but you ran into a hard chest, apologizing profusely. You looked up only to see the long lost best friend with his girlfriend that was very pregnant.A flash of hurt came across because you have a huge crush on the Jones man, but quite obviously he had feelings for a different girl that is not you. Oh, but how wrong you were because FP did have feelings for you, but he had gotten super drunk and sloppily had sex with another girl who was also drunk.

Fred started walking to the three with his arm around Mary, laughing, not noticing FP and Gladys. When the couple stopped next to you they noticed Gladys with a belly and immediately stopped laughing, turning to (Y/N) to see tears pooling in her eyes. Gladys saw and looked at the girl in regret and guilt swam in her eyes as everyone in Riverdale High knew that you had the biggest crush on FP except FP himself.

You were the nicest girl in Riverdale and no one wanted to upset you or get you mad, but at this moment you were just upset and sad. FP smiled at you, happy to see your face, but immediately frowned when you looked at him to the baby bump to show a fake smile with tears in your eyes.

“Congrats.” With that you walked away.

Fred and Mary followed after Fred sighed and slapped FP’s shoulder a couple of times before giving him a sad smile. FP turned to Gladys.

“What was that about?” FP looked confused and hurt because you only spoke one word before leaving,

“Are you dumb?” Gladys looked at FP, “ that girl is so unbelievably in love with you! I can’t believe I hurt one of the nicest person in Riverdale ever because of one drunken mistake.”

Gladys shook her head and walked out to attempt to get the girl to forgive her for the drunken mistake. FP stood in the middle of Pop’s shocked to hear the news that you had liked him until he shook his head and ran after you until he heard tires screeching to see that you were hit by a car and Gladys was crying on the floor with bloodied knees. He sprinted to you and saw that you were unconscious.

“No! Baby, please, stay with me! I need you. I’m sorry!” FP had tears in his eyes as well as Fred, Mary, and Gladys.

The driver quickly got out and saw who he had hit and immediately started freaking out. Apologizing rapidly and called the ambulance, waiting for them to get you and fix those wounds up.

After a couple hours in the hospital, you finally woke up and made a decision after remembering everything that happened before the accident. You were going to move. You didn’t know where, but  you were going to move. Everyone came rushing in to see you with tears in your eyes, instantly becoming worried about you.

“Guys, I’m sorry, but I have to move out of this god forsaken town. I can’t take this.” You sobbed.

FP rushed to you to try and comfort you, but you pulled away. Getting out of bed to put on some extra clothes Fred got from your place.

“I’m not selling my house because I know I’m going to come back and I don’t know when, but I know I am.”

With that you had left somewhere that no one knew and FP and Gladys decided to stay together for the babies eventually getting another one. 

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Episode 109

Covering for @eponymous-rose​ because she has just moved and has one chair in her apartment, and also her ceiling is apparently making it rain inside. Also, I’m still riding the high of seeing this show live, so let’s get this going! 

Tonight’s guests: Liam, Taliesin, and Marisha! Late start; Brian blames Spectrum. I blame Sam.

Regular Critical Role this week; Sam’s oneshot is next week! Tonight’s After Dark will be a rebroadcast of the panel from GenCon. 

Everyone is a little stunned at how much they packed into last weekend. Marisha is amazed that they’ve gone from 250 people to 2500 people in the audience, especially considering the number of volunteers and staff they need to run a show like this. Brian is very surprised it had so few hitches in the production. 

Marisha helped Brian piece together his outfit (it was Ashley’s shirt and pants from New York that Ashley made him get).

No one knew what Sam would be wearing until fifteen minutes before showtime. He originally used a Chessex dice box, but Liam “didn’t feel it would read in the back row” so he used a larger, hollow box. 

A fan offered Brian ten thousand dollars for that box after the show. Yikes.

The art book has been in planning for a year; the first official meeting was at the last ComicCon. Liam’s favorite piece is a group portrait that has not been seen before. Taliesin loves that there are bits of “ephemera” scattered throughout the book.

Neither Liam nor Taliesin anticipated how much work the book would be. No release date yet.

Liam had no plan to make sure the potion went to Sam. He just wanted a lighthearted moment, and hadn’t planned to use it until the Raven Queen’s trammel almost broke the episode before. 

Keyleth suspected foul play on the love potion because she knows Vax well enough by now, but wasn’t worried because she likes lighthearted trickster Vax.

Brian was hoping Scanlan would see a mirror first. Taliesin hoped for Keyleth or Grog. Marisha hoped for Vax. 

The Gif of the Week is Matt tearing up his notes. It’s still hilarious.

Liam feels like the whole night was a scene from 300, including the chant of Vax’ildan. It was overwhelming in a good way.

Liam thinks some of Sam’s song/speech schtick was prepared before the show, but Taliesin and Marisha think he was adlibbing some of it as he went. Everyone marvels at his ability to improv so quickly.

Taliesin thinks Vex would have taken a finger or two if Scanlan hadn’t backed off. 

Marisha thinks Keyleth has come to the acceptance that death is likely, even though she’s hopeful they will survive. 

Marisha was slightly concerned that Scanlan would be angry at the prank and leave again. 

Liam doesn’t intend the pranks to be as good as they are, he just trusts Sam Riegel. “I just had to hold the football for Riegel and let him kick it.”

If Scanlan had seen Vex first, Percy would have been amused at first and then quickly annoyed. Taliesin also notes that Percy doesn’t know there was a love potion involved and is vain enough to think it was genuine.

There will be a Talks Machina next week even though a lot of people will be at Burning Man; it just “won’t be a traditional Talks.” 

Brian was excited to emcee the live show even though he had to stall a few minutes at the beginning because the merch line was so long. He felt like he had a contact high from how many Critters were excited to see him and the crew, the crowd singing All-Star before the show, and everyone just being generally enthusiastic. 

The guy who owns the theater said they have had rock concerts that were less exciting; he apparently thought something had happened after the first cheer and came out to check that everything was okay.

Keyleth is okay plummeting to her death these days. 

Taliesin, Marisha, and Liam all feel they will be battling Vecna on top of the titan. They don’t think it will stop until he’s defeated. 

Liam was certain he was going unconscious when Matt said he didn’t have the dice for the damage. Vax’s HP dipped to the 30s. 

Brian sat next to Andrew from CritRoleStats during the show. Hi, Andrew! He does the math in his head for the HP tracking and Brian kept interrupting him by accident. 

Percy is very much looking forward to killing Delilah again. “She’s the gift that keeps on giving.” He also says something about keeping her in a dungeon and killing her every week. Marisha: “Geez louise, that’s dark!”

Keyleth thinks it’s better for her to be down a high-level spell slot than for Scanlan to be, since he has so many high level Hail Marys. 

Brian marvels again at how intense the crowd was. The pre-show panel helped amp them up as well. 

Favorite GenCon moments for everyone! Brian: watching the live show in the audience and going to the Logic show. Brian got to lose at MarioKart on that stage as well. He came in 7th out of 8, and six of the other competitors were bots. Liam loved Bobby pulling Hannah Banana onstage to rap. I’m missing a lot of these references, so apologies if any of this is misspelled! The guy behind Brian’s empty seat apparently cheered very hard for him, even though he lost. Brian also loved Travis’s face when they walked out onto the football field on Sunday. Taliesin loved photobombing Critters. 

During the standing ovation, Marisha felt “pure, distilled, emotional ecstasy.” Liam was very humbled by the love for something they created around Marisha’s dining room table. Taliesin can’t find words for it. Brian felt like it was a wall of love. 

Right before he came out to do the initial announcements, Brian gave Matt a hug and unexpectedly started crying, so he had to compose himself before starting the show. At the end of the show, he looked over and saw Matt had tears in his eyes as well.

Liam loves that events from the game feel like real memories, and that what they do matters so much to so many people. 

After Dark: aka That Pre-Show Panel From the Con

Everyone is nervous about the show except Travis, who’s stoked. Everyone had a strategy session beforehand, except the rules of the game kept getting in the way. Matt: “Antimagic field does not work against spells cast by deities, sorry!”

Marisha and Laura love the game because of the roleplaying elements. Marisha notes there’s still a problem with D&D being perceived as a boy’s game. Liam runs a game for five small girls who love it because it’s not treated as a game for girls; “get ‘em while they’re as young as possible.” 

Any two NPCs in a cage match: Marisha picks Kevdak and Groon. Laura picks Trish the Dish and Kima. Matt: “Now we’re just me at home playing with my action figures, and I’m okay with that.” 

Marisha notes that Critical Role builds every week, which is different than the pre-produced final product from Dread. She loves Dread’s team-building aspect for the puzzles and atmosphere. Matt: “It felt weirdly magical.”

Taliesin and Marisha are very proud of Dread; there will be more to come.

An audience member asks about favorite one-liners: “Your secret is safe with my indifference.” “Life needs things to live.” “Where’s Larkin?”

They talk about how weird it is to have their game so big. They’re constantly amazed by the fan productions of love. 

Matt works hard on the balance between grandiose successes, failures, and heroism, and the importance of grounding the adventure in realism. Liam loves that it runs the gamut from an argument over a pair of shoes to a beloved city crumbling around them. 

Matt never imagined this world he made up would end up in a campaign guide. It was originally a generic fantasy land for his friends to play in, but the more life he put into it the more life his players put into it, and it was very daunting to try to capture all that collaboration into a book for other people to play in. He talks a bit about Joey, his co-writer, who helped him with the overwhelming load of work and created some ideas of his own.

If Laura could reroll one roll from the whole campaign, she describes a moment pre-show where she was trying to slide on her knees through a troll’s legs to shoot up, except she rolled a 1 and the troll stepped on her stomach. Travis would reroll the skull spike. “I wanted that one bad.” Taliesin feels bad rolls are character-building. Matt mentions the roll in the Sunken Tomb, and apparently Laura has never realized how much hinged on that one roll before this moment. Matt thinks of the roll Raishan failed against the Feeblemind. “Thanks, Keyleth!”

Travis prevented Laura from taking a gift earlier, but totally accepts a gift beer from an audience member. The same person brings up how good D&D is for blind and low-vision players since it’s theater of the mind, and as my residency was in low-vision rehabilitation, this means a lot to me. Matt also brings up Critical Role Transcripts as another great method of accessibility. They have over 60% of the whole show completely transcribed, which is over $50,000 in transcribing time. You can sign up to volunteer for five-minute slots at CRTranscript on Twitter. 

Matt talks about the importance of writing down details for NPCs you create on the fly and fleshing them out after the campaign if you think they might recur, because the players will remember every time if you don’t. 

Senokir was made up on the spot. Serious Alpha technical issues, so I’m sorry if I miss some stuff here. 

Matt does not believe in punishing players for being clever. He would rather throw away material and reuse it later. 

Sam is proud of the Washington Football Team inspiration and the library sequence with Laura. He liked the pressure of coming up with so many songs on the spot. 

Grog would take the Deck over the Alchemy Jug without a thought.

Travis will always choose character-based leveling for Grog over meta-gaming every time, especially if it makes Grog dumber. Sam looked up good spells for bards and the mansion was not one of them, but he took it because he loved the idea and hasn’t regretted it. Laura feels the same way about keeping Trinket through the Pathfinder transition. Taliesin never took Luck for the same reason; he feels the potential of the gun backfiring is the price he should pay. “I don’t want to undo my weaknesses.”

Liam’s choice of Fated is why Matt started thinking about him being fate-touched. 

More serious technical issues, sorry. Matt talks about the fact that all DMs will make mistakes and that it’s important to find creative solutions within the bounds of the world you’ve made. 

If Vex could reincarnate as anything, she’d pick “angel babyyyy!” Marisha would like to see Keyleth as a half-orc.

Laura is very disappointed Matt didn’t haggle the last time they went to the flea market together. 

[justanotherwannabeclassic]

World’s End

Dedicated to @lenfaz, inspired by the show Greek. (Andrew J West was in it! You should watch!)

Summary: “If it’s the end of the word, then I want to be with you.” (Captain Swan College AU)

Read on AO3. World’s End Graduation.

Emma was graduating college tomorrow. The black gown hung in her closet, shoved into the very back next to dresses that were no longer in style and shirts she no longer wore. If she couldn't see it, Emma reasoned that maybe it wasn't real. But it was. Tomorrow she would down that black cap and gown, cross the stage, and accept her diploma.

She'd stop being Emma Swan, College Student, and officially become Emma Swan, College Graduate. Cool, right?

Except not. Most people looked forward to college graduation. It represented four years of hard work, tears, and panic attacks – a sign that you were qualified to do something. But all Emma could do was envision it as the end. 

After eighteen years of bouncing from group home to home, Storybrooke College and its stability had become a refuge for Emma. She had finally found somewhere she could call home, and a group of people she could call family – and it was all going away.

Sure, all her friends had promised to keep in touch. That's what everyone did. And they would, at first, they'd all try very hard. But eventually, conversations will trickle away as they all live their separate lives. It wouldn't be like undergrad where Ruby could barge into Emma and Mary Margaret's apartment with a bottle of tequila. Tuesday movie nights with the gang would be a thing of the past.

All because they wouldn't be together.

Ruby was moving to Kentucky after landing a Stage Management gig with a youth theatre. Elsa had joined Americorps and was being shipped off to Alaska. Regina, to no one's surprise, had been accepted to Yale Law. The only people in her group who were staying together were David and Mary Margaret, who were moving to D.C. to work on the Hill and for Teach for America respectively.

As for Emma, she was staying in town to work at the local Sheriff’s department. It was a stable job, and would certainly be interesting, but she could not say she was entirely excited by the prospect. To be honest, unlike many of her friends, Emma had never had a set career goal. She wanted to be employed and self-sufficient, of course, but she'd never been one to have a "Dream Job". Her dream had always been a home – and now she was losing it. 

God, she needed a drink.

She knew where she could get one, or many. For weeks, Killian had been boasting about his frat’s “World’s End” party that was happening tonight. His explanation that since the school year was ending, and that he was graduation, there was not more fitting of a theme. Emma had teased him that he had watched the Pirates of the Caribbean movies one too many times, and that he was using the party to further fuel his pirate fetish. (He had dressed as Captain Hook three years running for his frat’s Halloween parties.)

But he was right that the theme was fitting, because it certainly felt like Emma’s world was ending.

Like the others, Killian had also leaving post-graduation. His plan involved sailing the East Coast with his brother who taught at the Naval Academy in Annapolis. His brother – his idol, really – had a break over the summer months, and the two thought it would be “bloody brilliant” to take to the seas together. Emma had no idea what Killian planned to do after that, but she knew it didn’t involve here. Here, which was landlocked, a fact that Killian complained about near daily. She had quickly come to realize how much she’d miss those complaints.

She’d miss a lot about Killian, to be honest.

Emma had met Killian four years ago at a frat party she had been dragged to by her roommate’s best friend, Ruby. The party had been raucous and wild, fitting every cliché one would have for a party. She had stumbled into Killian – literally stumbled – which had caused him to spill his drink – some red hooch concoction – down the front of her white blouse. He had offered her his jacket as an apology – as long as she returned it, of course – and thus a friendship was born.

Killian Jones was very unlike any stereotype she’d had of frat boys prior to attending Storybrooke. Frat boys were supposed to be lame, rich assholes who wore pastel shorts. Killian wasn’t rich, he loathed pastels, and he was genuinely a good guy. Sure, he acted like an arrogant prick every now and then, but he was loyal to a fault.

Once during Emma’s sophomore year, she had slipped on patch of ice walking to class. He’d skipped the rest of his classes that day to stay with her at the hospital while she received X-Rays and received the cast for her broken wrist. It had only been later that David had revealed to her that Killian had knowingly missed a quiz that he knew Dr. Gold wouldn’t let him make up. Another time, she’d been having a panic attack in the library before a test, and he’d talked her down. He was just there for her. Always. Except for after tomorrow.

She really, really needed a drink.

It would be easy to walk to Greek Row, to find her way into the KT house, and drink her feelings away. That’s what freshman year Emma would have done, but “about to graduate” Emma was trying to be more responsible. Which meant drinking alone in her apartment and moping.

She was halfway to the kitchen, though, when someone knocked on her front door.

She considered not answering. She wasn’t expecting anyone, nor had she ordered delivery. She wasn’t in the mood for lectures on religions. But then she heard a familiar voice calling, “Swan, let me in! I come bearing the greatest of treasures!”

“Killian?” she asked, pulling open the front door, surprised to find her friend standing on the other side, holding up a six-pack of beers. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating the end of the world?”

He didn’t wait for her to let him in, sweeping in without a proper greeting. “Celebrate the world’s end with anyone but you? Perish the thought.”

Her stomach swooped at that, and Emma tried her best to tamp down the attraction she felt. She’d long since been harboring a not-so-secret (to Mary Margaret and Elsa, at least) crush on him for the past year. She had briefly considered acting on it, once under the mistletoe a Christmas party thrown by Mary Margaret’s sorority, but she’d chickened out. She had reasoned that the year was almost over, there was no use in establishing a relationship if they were inevitably going to part ways. Besides, if their relationship ended poorly their friendship would also end, and Emma couldn’t have that. Killian as “just a friend” was better than no Killian at all.

Killian was already in the kitchen and popping open a bottle of beer before Emma knew it. He offered her one, but she eyed him warily before accepting. “Won’t the rest of the guys be missing you? You’re sort of the President.”

Bailing on his own parties – and there were many – was uncharacteristic for Killian. He very much liked to be present, not simply because of the “fun” factor, but also to keep a watchful eye over his “brothers” and the party attendees. He explained his thought process using boat metaphors, something about a captain tending to a crew, and Emma knew he took it seriously. For example, though he had been quite the drinker in the early half of their college careers – Emma could never forget his near-perfect Exorcist impression in her bathroom after one too many cups of hooch freshman year – since becoming President of his frat, he more often than not opted for sobriety at his parties to watch over everyone. So his appearance here was quite the departure.

“And as President, I can come and go as I please,” he told her, opening his own beer and taking a drink. He paused, studying her expression carefully. “If you don’t want me here, Swan, I can leave. I just wanted to see you.”

“No, no, stay, I’m fine with you being here,” she assured him. It was the truth, she wanted him to be here, wanted a few more moments together than they had left. “It’s just unexpected, that’s all.”

“You should know by now I’m a man of many surprises, love.” He winked at her comically before moving to collapse onto the sofa. “Mary Margaret is at Dave’s, I presume?”

Emma hummed in affirmation. “If she didn’t pay half the rent, I’d almost be convinced I didn’t actually have a roommate.”

She joined him on the sofa, keeping a comfortable and safe distance away from him. She remembered moving into this apartment two summers ago, and how David and Killian had more or less had a macho man contest to see who could carry the most boxes up the three flights of stairs. Emma had been dating Walsh at the time – what a disaster that had been – but he’d hardly helped much outside of shouting the occasional “PIVOT” and making comments about the quality (or rather, lack thereof) of her second hand furniture.

That sat in silence together, slowly drinking their beers. It was Killian who spoke first, his fingers tapping nervously against his drink as he said, "Tomorrow's a big day."

"To put it lightly." 

Emma didn't really want to talk about graduation. She would much rather drown in her drink than face the reality that was tomorrow, but Killian had other plans.

"It's been a good four years, hasn't it?" he asked, continuing the tapping on his drink. He was always fidgety, no matter how he was feeling, poking and prodding things. He was talented with his fingers too, judging by the many songs he could play on his guitar, many of which were not "Wonderwall", thank you very much. "Friends, classes, and what have you. It's all been great."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to miss it," he admitted. Emma wanted to reply, "me too", but she worried that if she did, she would cry. Thankfully, Killian never knew when or how to stop talking, so he continued on. "You know, I never did want to go to college. Liam more or less made me, and I came here because I owed him that much. But, like always, he knew what was best."

"That's what big brothers are for, right?" Emma asked. She's never had a sibling, but she's always imagined they'd give sage advice or be supportive. Judging from the way Killian idolized Liam, she doubted she was far from the mark. 

"Aye." Killian shifted so that he was facing toward Emma, his beer now forgotten on the coffee table. "I made good friends, learned a few things...met you."

Emma laughed. "I think I fall into the good friends category, no need to single me out there. David might get jealous if he finds out."

Killian shook his head. "Swan, I've always operated under the belief that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets."

"How poetic," she replied, not sure where he was taking this conversation.

"Aye, but that's not the point." Killian rolled his eyes. He was gearing up for something serious, which Emma really didn't want. She wanted to forget all of the awful and terrible things, and this was starting to feel like some grand goodbye. "Emma, I meant what I said earlier."

She racked her brain trying to determine if he had said anything about the beer or the frat or the party.

“If it’s the end of the word, then I want to be with you.”

And then Killian did the unexpected – he kissed her. Kissing Killian was like she imagined, soft and warm and feeling a whole lot like home. But then remember that she was losing her home, losing him to an indeterminable future.

She pulled away, suddenly angry with him for kissing her. "You can't do that," she exclaimed moving away from him. "You can't just come in here and kiss me."

Killian looked at her stricken. "I apologize. I thought – I'd hoped, rather – I thought you'd felt same."

"Felt the same about what?" Emma asked, her voice taking a hysterical note that she hated. It wasn't fair. It wasn’t fair for him to kiss her, and then leave.

"Us, Emma, us," he half-shouted, half-pleaded. "Everyone is talking about graduation, the future, and where we'd be ten years from now. And it's all made me realize that if I looked back at my life in a decade, my biggest regret would be letting you go without telling you how I felt." He huffed. "And now I've done so, and since you clearly don't feel the same, I'll leave."

It would be easy to let him go, let him leave the apartment and her life. He would sail away with Liam, and they would drift apart and not talk. She pictured bumping into him years down the line at a wedding of mutual friends. Would she regret letting him go? Could she live with the what-might-have-beens? If the world was ending, who would she want by her side?

“Wait.”

Killian was already at the door, his hand on knob, when she called out to him. He turned to her slowly, brow raised. He looked unlike any time she had seen him before – apprehensive and afraid.

“Swan?” he asked, his voice catching.

“I..Killian, I…” Emma stumbled over her words. She’d never been good with meaningful declarations. “Me too.”

“What?”

She took a deep breath and balled her fingers into fists. Her nails dug into her palms. She could do this. “If the world was ending, I’d want to be with you. So me too.”

Before she knew it, Killian was crossing the room and pulling her into his arms for another kiss. This time she did not pull away, and instead allowed herself to drown in the moment. He pulled away, much too soon for her liking, his breath coming out in puffs against her cheeks.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He studied her face intently.

She nodded. “Yeah, there’s no other place she’d rather be.

She wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, if crossing the stage and accepting her diploma would bring it all crashing down. What she did know, however, that Killian was here, that he wanted her, and that he was just as afraid of losing her. And if both their worlds were ending, they were going to face it together. 

Ten Years Later…

“It’s bloody fucking cold.”

“It’s winter, Killian. You would do better if you actually wore winter clothing.”

“Perish the thought.”

Emma laughed as Killian rubbed his bare hands together, his breath coming out in puffs. Despite the snow crunching under their feet, he still refused to wear glove or scarf, or even button his shirt all of the way. She had managed to coax him into a beanie, his hair curling around the edges making him appear younger. She grabbed his hands between her own gloved hands and kissed his chilled fingertips.

“You have to remember how cold Maine gets this time of year. You spent four years living here.”

“And those four years were tinged in rose-colored memories.”

“You referenced David throwing snow balls at mine and Mary Margaret’s window in your best man speech,” she reminded him, pulling him along the sidewalk. “C’mon, babe, the sooner we get going, the sooner you can be warm.”

“What I want to know is who has an inauguration ceremony in the winter,” Killian whined, trudging behind her.

“Practically everyone in the United States.”

“Yes, well, Regina should change that now that she’s mayor.”

Regina was the reason they had returned to Storybrooke at this time of year. Regina had shocked everyone – most especially her mother – when she had walked away from her promising career as a corporate lawyer in New York to move to Storybrooke after her fiancé was offered a tenure track position at her old alma mater. Though she had given up one prestigious career, she had didn’t stay idle long. After living in the small town once again for barely a year, she decided to stage a run for mayor – which she won handily.

Emma hadn’t been surprised when she heard the news. What she had been shocked about was the timing. Regina’s wedding to Robin was the weekend after her inauguration as mayor. But then again, for as long as Emma had known Regina, her friend had never shied away from an easy path.

Because of the timing, Emma and Killian were spending the week in their old collegiate stomping grounds to attend both ceremonies. They actually hadn’t intended to spend the whole week in Storybrooke, but David had concocted the idea to get the whole group together and have a homecoming of sorts.

“Think of it as our ten-year reunion,” he’d said over the phone when he had pitched the idea to Killian.

And so, a reunion they intended to have.

Not that they needed it. Their group had stayed mostly intact over the past decade. (God, that made Emma feel old.)

Despite no longer living in the same small college town, they still managed to come together. When Emma visited Killian and his brother down in Annapolis in the first year after graduation, David and Mary Margaret had driven up and they all spent a day sailing in the Chesapeake. Both Emma and Killian had served in the bridal party at their wedding, which had been the first time their large group of friends had all been in the same place since graduation two years earlier.

It was at David and Mary Margaret’s where Killian had wistfully confessed that he wished that Emma wouldn’t be going back Storybrooke after their visit, prompting her to reveal that she had applied to an opening at the Anne Arundel County Police Department. It was also at the wedding that Elsa met Liam.

From there, it was a whirlwind of memories: David and Mary Margaret helping her and Killian carry boxes from the Uhaul into their apartment that overlooked the water. Elsa taking a job in Washington for an Environmental lobbying firm. Killian proposing in their living room the same afternoon her purchased her ring. Mary Margaret going into labor during the bridal shower she was hosting for Emma. David holding his firstborn son.

Weddings. Engagements. Babies. Career changes. She and her friends had experienced it all.

And they’d done it all together. Mostly. 

When Emma had followed Killian to Annapolis, she’d gained a brother in Liam even before Killian had slid a diamond ring on her finger. With Annapolis being a short drive from Washington, she was able to stay connected with David and Mary Margaret. Elsa eventually followed, and much to Emma’s happiness, became her sister. Eventually Ruby moved to New York, as did Regina at a later point, which was only a short bus or train ride away. 

And now they were all back together in Storybrooke where it all began.

And then suddenly, Emma remembered something.

“It’s been ten years,” she said, stopping their trek abruptly. She turned to Killian. “We graduated more than ten years ago.”

“You sure know how to make a man feel old, love,” Killian teased. Last week, he had found his first gray hair and had been touchy about it ever since.

“It’s been ten years, and we’re together,” she elaborated.

“Aye, and we’ve been married for five of them,” Killian reminded her. He thumbed over where her engagement ring and wedding band sat on her finger.

“You said ten years ago that if you looked back to then, your biggest regret would be not telling me that you wanted to be with me,” Emma explained. She watched as recognition slowly dawned upon his face, his lips curling into a smile.

“It would have been.” 

“And now? That the world didn’t end?”

“And now my biggest regret is that I didn’t tell you sooner,” he replied.

Emma leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. They felt cold in the Maine weather, but just like their first time so long ago, she felt like coming home.

[cryptodictation]

Jesus Christ Superstar: Bob Dylan inspired Jesus Christ Superstar

(Universal / Getty Images / Getty Images)

“Did Judas Iscariot have God at his side?” This sentence, from the song With God on Our Side, in Bob Dylan, messed with (then young) Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice. The year was 1968 and the two had known each other for 2 years. They came from the thunderous – and surprising – success of the religious musical, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat e they had to decide what to do next. The suggestion was to address the story of Jesus Christ, which seemed obvious after Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. However, like all young people, they wanted nothing conventional. It was a time of strong political conflict and the hippie movement was the most common form of contestation, and Dylan was God for every generation at the time. “Tim (Rice) used that phrase from the song as a starting point for the script. Clearly Iscariot was not a man without intelligence, so how much of everything that happened was just an accident or was it necessary in the face of politics at the time? ”Explained Lloyd Weber in an interview recalling the creation.

The two defined that the story of Jesus, more objectively his last week of life, would be told from the perspective of Judas. And it would be a rock opera. “It's the worst idea ever,” was what the two heard as a negative. The resistance gave confidence that they were on the right track. But, with no one supporting production, what now?

Lloyd Weber and Rice in London in 1970, at the time of the release of the concept album Jesus Christ Superstar

Lloyd Weber and Rice in London in 1970, at the time of the release of the concept album Jesus Christ Superstar (Evening Standard / Hulton Archive / Getty Images / Getty Images)

Conceptual album with rock stars

If there was no way to go straight to the stage, it wasn't because it was a bad idea. It was this certainty of the duo that moved them to prove that the proposal was good by showing what the opera would be like. “Doing it on an album, made it shorter, dried the script and thus became more contemporary, more rock, with more energy and speaking directly to a younger audience,” acknowledged Rice. “We weren't happy then, because thanks to Andrew, we wanted to write for the theater, not for albums. But doing the opposite process worked for the best because it promoted the work so well that when it finally hit the stage, everyone already knew all the songs, ”recalled the lyricist and screenwriter.

The first track recorded was with the singer Murray Head like Judas, singing the title song of the musical, Super star. In it, Judas questions Jesus for his decisions and apologizes “I just want to know”, he says in the chorus. Lloyd Weber thought of the melody as he strolled through London and – not to forget the music – wrote the notes on a napkin. The success of this track, which climbed the charts around the world, including Brazil, guaranteed the recording of the complete album. The lyrics, however, shocked religious by giving voice to a humanized Judas, with pertinent doubts and acid criticism. (He questions Jesus for choosing to come into the world in a pre-mass communication time, for example).

With the hit, the album came. At the time the rumors were that John Lennon assume the role of Jesus, and Yoko Ono by Mary Magdalene. Ultimately, the original Jesus was none other than the vocalist of one of the most famous rock bands of the 1970s, Ian Gillan, of Deep Purple. Maria Magdalene was played by a singer discovered by Lloyd Weber in a bar, Yvonne Elliman, who repeated the role on stage and in the film.

After more than 400 hours of recording with a full orchestra, a band and choirs, Jesus Christ Superstar was released in September 1970. “What Rice and LLoyde Weber created was a modern piece that infuriates devotees, but it should intrigue and even inspire young agnostics,” they wrote at the time. With the hit album, Broadway was finally guaranteed.

–

– (Hulton Archive / Getty Images / Getty Images)

In two years, Jesus Christ Superstar left the stage for the cinema

In less than six months Jesus Christ Superstar it was already a pop phenomenon and debuted on Broadway, with mixed reviews. Lloyd Weber himself complained that the first montage was a far cry from what he and Rice had imagined. The actor and singer Carl Anderson led the cast on stage, when, in 1973, the director Norman Jewison took on the challenge of making the film, with the first name confirmed in the cast.

The film itself is another curious story. Jewison innovated at the time with a musical completely outside the known standards. Unsure how to adapt the play for the cinema, he traveled to Israel and toured the country listening to the soundtrack on a tape. In a moment he came across a tourist bus and had the inspiration: Jesus Christ Superstar it would be the assembly of a hippie troupe, strolling through the places where Christ passed and reliving his story. At this point, Jesus came to be defended by the singer Ted Neeley, who today has played the role more than 5,000 times on stage. Like Anderson, Neeley appears at first without prominence among the actors until he is identified as Jesus. Filmed all over in loco, Superstar was nominated for an Oscar for Best Picture in 1973.

Jesus Christ Superstar, the film, shocked the public at the time as it had done two years before in the theater. For the first time, both Jesus and Judas were treated as humans. “There is always someone around with protest signs saying that we are going to destroy the universe with rock,” he says Ted Neeley.

In addition to Superstar, the other hit song is Gethesemane (I only want to Know), a song that demands lung and maturity of interpretation for few and that portrays the moment when Jesus questions God, before accepting his destiny. “Why do I have to die? You can tell me today that my sacrifice will not be in vain, ”he sings.

“The lyrics are about a conversation between son and father, just like I had with my father as a child,” says Neeley. “When I didn't know something and asked him, we sat down to talk. I'm not ‘Jesus talking to God’ in that song, ” explains.

–

– (Universal / Getty Images / Getty Images)

Classic still on display and several re-assemblies

At Easter 2000, a new version of the musical was recorded and released directly on video. It does not reach the feet of Jewison's version, which remains current due to the admittedly theatrical concept he chose. Neeley continues to perform in the United States as Christ.

Carl Anderson and Ted Neeley on the 20th anniversary of “Jesus Christ Superstar” in the 1990s

Carl Anderson and Ted Neeley on the 20th anniversary of “Jesus Christ Superstar” in the 1990s (Ron Galella / Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images / Getty Images)

The last re-recording brought John Legend like Jesus Christ and was the winner of several Emmys in 2018. “The concept of the show is interesting, the idea of ​​talking about human feelings, such as fear and doubt, resentment and betrayal,” says Legend. “In the musical Tim and Andrew suggest that Judas may have had an argument, perhaps he had good reason to question Jesus' method of operation,” he suggests,

Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Weber became absolute stars in the theater after the musical and repeated the concept of first recording an album before debuting the play with Prevents, the musical that they composed right after. After Prevents, in 1977, the two never worked together again.

–

– (Ollie Millington / Getty Images / Getty Images)

Adored by fans, musical has cult status

If today few remember the music of Bob Dylan, it is very difficult that they do not know how to hum Super star and the status of cult surrounds all versions of the musical. “Without Norman Jewison there wouldn't be the movie Jesus Christ Superstar and it certainly wouldn’t have the spiritual connection that it still has, ”says Neeley. “My feeling is that Andrew and Tim wanted to look at the last 7 days of the man called Jesus of Nazareth, seen through the eyes of his friends and contemporaries. They saw him as a man as well as a divine. In the musical we see them before his death and resurrection, this is the connection that people can identify with more than they think who Jesus was ”, he suggests.

After more than 40 years playing Jesus, Neeley keeps his feet on the ground. “I am inspired by those touching moments that are powerful through the music and lyrics that we sing at each performance,” he says. “It always raises my soul and it's always new”, I smiled.

Ah, though Jesus Christ Superstar has aroused criticism from various religious sides, according to the actor, Pope Paul VI personally approved the work at the time of its release. According to Neeley, Paul VI won a special session at the Vatican and would have told the director that “not only did I enjoy his beautiful rock opera but I also believe that it will bring more people to Christianity than any other work before it”. It is certainly a classic.

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♘ MEDIA INSPIRATION ♘

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Rose DeWitt Bukater (Movie: Titanic); Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia (Historical Figure); Princess Lia (Literature: The Remnant Chronicles); Kestrel (Literature: The Winner’s Trilogy)

♘

ROSE DEWITT BUKATER (TITANIC)

Jack: Rose, you’re no picnic, all right? You’re a spoiled little brat, even, but under that, you’re the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl, woman that I’ve ever known… Rose: Jack, I— Jack: No, let me try and get this out. I’m not an idiot, I know how the world works. I’ve got ten bucks in my pocket, I have nothing to offer you and I know that. I understand. But I’m too involved now. You jump, I jump remember? I can’t turn away without knowing you’ll be all right… That’s all that I want. Rose: Well, I’m fine… I’ll be fine… really. Jack: Really? I don’t think so. They’ve got you trapped, Rose. And you’re gonna die if you don’t break free. Maybe not right away because you’re strong but…sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Rose…that fire’s gonna burn out… Rose: It’s not up to you to save me, Jack. Jack: You’re right…only you can do that.

Molly Brown: [to the group who are dining at the same table] Hey, uh, who thought of the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce? Ismay: Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size, and size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength. Rose: Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you. Ruth: [whispering] What’s gotten into you? Rose: Excuse me. [She rises and leaves] Ruth: I do apologize. Molly Brown: She’s a pistol, Cal! Hope you can handle her. Cal: Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on, won’t I, Mrs. Brown?

Old Rose: I saw my whole life as if I’d already lived it. An endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches. Always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. I felt like I was standing at a great masterpiece, with no one to pull me back, no one who cared… or even noticed.

Rose: Teach me to ride like a man. Jack: [speaking with a southern American accent] And chew tobacco like a man. Rose: [trying to imitate the southern American accent] And spit like a man! Jack: What, they didn’t teach you that in finishing school?

Rose: [whispering to Jack] Next it will be brandies in the smoking room. Col. Archibald Gracie: [to everybody] Join me in a brandy, gentlemen? Rose: [whispering to Jack] Now they will retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe.

Rose: So you think you’re big tough men? [Rose takes Tommy’s cigarette and takes a pull] Rose: Then let’s see you do this. Hold this for me Jack. [lifts up her dress train] Rose: Hold it up! [Rose then slowly rises on her toes to complete a toe-stand] 3rd Class Woman: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Rose: I know what you must be thinking. “Poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery?” Jack: No, no, that’s not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was, what could’ve happened to this girl to make her think she had no way out?

Rose: Mr. Andrews, forgive me. I did the sum in my head and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned, forgive me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard. Thomas Andrews: ‘Bout half, actually. Rose, you miss nothing, do you?

Ruth: Do you understand me? Rose, I forbid it. Rose: Oh, stop it, mother. You’ll give yourself a nose bleed.

Rose: Jack… Mister Dawson, it’s been a pleasure. I’ve sought you out to thank you, and now I have thanked you. Jack: And even insulted me. Rose: Well, you deserved it.

Rose: You know, my dream has always been to run away and become an artist. Living in a garrett poor but free! Jack: You wouldn’t last 2 days. Theres no hot water and hardly any caviar.

♘

GRAND DUCHESS ANASTASIA NIKOLAEVNA OF RUSSIA (HISTORICAL FIGURE)

❝ Anastasia Nicolaievna, on the other hand, was very roguish and almost a wag. She had a very strong sense of humour, and the darts of her wit often found sensitive spots. She was rather an enfant terrible, though this fault tended to correct itself with age. She was also extremely idle, though with the idleness of a gifted child. Her French accent was excellent, and she acted scenes from comedy with remarkable talent. She was so lively, and her gaiety so infectious, that several members of the suite had fallen into the way of calling her “Sunshine,” the nickname her mother had been given at the English Court.

In short, the whole charm, difficult though it was to define, of these four sisters was theirextreme simplicity, candour, freshness, and instinctive kindness of heart. ❞ —Pierre Gilliard, Thirteen Years at the Russian Court

❝ The youngest of the four daughters and destined by history to become the most famous, Anastasia, said one courtier, was “quite unlike any of her sisters, with a type of her own.” Lili Dehn, one of the empress´s closest friends, called Anastasia “pretty” but noted that “hers was more of a clever face.” Her hair was dark blond with a slight golden tinge, and her features ‘were regular and finely cut.’ Above all else, it was her gray-blue eyes - “of great luminescence,” as Tatiana Botkin, daughter of the imperial family´s chief physician, Eugene Botkin, recalled - that attracted attention, vibrant “wells of intelligence,” according to Dehn, that were constantly moving and glowed with mischief.

This impression - that with Anastasia mischief was always lurking just beneath the surface - was one that the little girl herself cultivated from an early age. Perhaps, as the youngest of four girls and the least important of five children, she consciously grasped at opportunities - no matter how inappropriate - to assert her individuality, for she was certainly very different from her sisters in behaviour and temperament. There was something altogether irrepressible about her spirited energy, as if she knew no boundaries and feared nothing. Her aunt and godmother Grand Duchess Olga Alexanrovna nicknamed her “Shvibzik” (Imp), an Anastasia fully lived up to the designation. From an early age, said Dr. Botkin´s youngest son Gleb, Anastasia “undoubtedly held the record for punishable deeds in her family, for in naughtiness she was a true genius.” ❞  —Greg King & Penny Wilson, The Resurrection of the Romanovs: Anastasia, Anna Anderson, and the World’s Greatest Royal Mystery

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PRINCESS LIA (THE REMNANT CHRONICLES)

❝ I had always hidden my fears from others with sharp talk and bold gestures. How many times had she seen me trying to tame my breathing in a dark corridor of the citadelle after a nasty encounter with the Scholar when he told me I was deficient in my studies, social abilities, or any number of things where I fell short of what was expected. Or the many times I stood frozen at my chamber window blankly staring at nothing at all for as long as an hour, blinking back tears after another curt dismissal from my father. Or the times I had had to retreat to my dressing chamber and lock the door. I knew Pauline had heard me cry. The last few years, I hadn’t measured up in any way, and the more they pushed, molded, and silenced me, the more I wanted to be heard. ❞ —Mary E. Pearson, The Kiss of Deception

❝ “Ancients pulled metals more precious than gold from the center of the earth—they spun into giant lacy wings that flew them to the stars and back.” “Is that what you’d do with wings?” She shook her head. ‘No, I’d fly to the stars, but I’d never come back.’ ❞ —Mary E. Pearson, The Kiss of Deception

❝ DARKNESS WAS A BEAUTIFUL THING. THE KISS OF A SHADOW. A caress of soft as moonlight. It had always been my refuge, my place of escape, whether I was sneaking onto a rooftop lit only by the stars or down a midnight alley to be with my brothers. Darkness was my ally. It made me forget the world I was in and invited me to dream of another.❞ —Mary E. Pearson, The Beauty of Darkness

❝ My emotions weren’t blinding and explosive, as they had been back then, but were now tight and contained, like an animal pacing behind the cage of my ribs. ❞ —Mary E. Pearson, The Beauty of Darkness

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KESTREL (THE WINNER’S TRILOGY)

❝ “I like riddles,” said Kestrel. “Tell me one.”

“There is a riddle that I simply cannot figure out,” said the lady sitting next to Maris. “It is: I leap without feet to land, my cloth head is filled with sand. I have no wings, yet try to fly…what am I?”

Kestrel helped herself to some cream. She wasn’t angry anymore. The truth was that she, like her father, knew how good it felt to cut with certain weapons. She took a whitened sip of chocolate, the cream cool and pillowy against her lips. “Maris knows the answer to that riddle,” she said.

“I?” said Maris. “Not at all. I cannot guess it.”

“Can you not? The answer is a fool.”

Maris’s smile wilted. There was a silence broken only by the delicate clink of Kestrel setting her cup on the tray. She gathered her white furs about her and swept away. ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Crime

❝ …Kestrel had a knack for working her fingers through schemes, and sometimes she pulled the strings, and sometimes she tugged at the edges until she uncovered something she shouldn’t. ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Crime

❝ “I don’t mind being a moth. I would probably start eating silk if it meant that I could fly.” ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Crime

❝ “My character seems contradictory.” “Why?” “I don’t think you can be manipulative and kind at the same time.” He laughed. “You can.” ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Crime

❝ Once there was a girl who was too sure of herself. Not everyone would call her beautiful, but they admitted that she had a certain grace that intimidated more often than charmed. She was not, society agreed, someone you wanted to cross. She keeps her heart in a porcelain box, people whispered, and they were right.

She didn’t like to open the box. The sight of her heart was unsettling. It always looked smaller and bigger than she expected. It thumped against the white porcelain. A fleshy red knot.

Sometimes, though, she’d put her palm on the box’s lid, and then the steady pulse was a welcome music. ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Kiss

❝ “She could be useful.”

“You will not use her.”

“The general’s daughter? We’d be fools not to. You talk about her as if she’s made of spun glass. Know what I see? Steel.” ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Kiss