#and the younger ones are definitely too young for Macbeth

[littlefanthings]

Yeah we’re all excited that David’s Macbeth seems to be coming back in the fall but what we are ignoring in the same photo drop from Georgia is

Lookit how happy he is bringing his kids to the show 🥹

[ultimatedemonsimp]

So, I'm trying to write a story and I've finished chapter one. Tell me what you guys think.

The Witch Of The Gods

Chapter One: The Birth Of Jack

A fair, young maiden walked swiftly beside her tall tutor, guiding him to his sturdy horse on the side of the dirt pathway through the dark, dreary woods that separated her small, cozy home from the rest of civilization. Dawned in a hand-sewn blue and white woolen dress, a black shawl made of her mother’s linen drapes, cotton stockings, and redwood clogs, she bade the young man farewell with a finger pressed to her lips and placing a wax-sealed spell jar on a piece of twine into his hand, before quickly turning to run back through the wood.

“Alice! Get up here! These apples won’t magically turn themselves into cider!” Her father, William, yelled from the top of the hill, she was still yards away from him, but she could already smell the smoke of the cigar in his mouth and the strong stench of ale on his breath.

The girl thought it wise to not respond as she ran past the older man to the small wooden barn on the opposite side of the property, sitting down and beginning to work. She had an ability envied by her siblings, for every bruise on each apple she picked from the basket disappears as it makes contact with her skin, cutting her work in half compared to the others, though Alice, herself, didn’t even realize this power. Her youngest sister, Ada, glared at Alice from her stool, before cutting her palm on the knife in her hand, causing her to wince in pain. The strained sound of pain concerned the eldest, her standing back up and immediately going to dress her sister’s wound.

“I don’t need your help! You might be our elder sister, but you are no wiser than the stones beneath my feet!” Ada insulted, pushing her sibling away and grabbing a cloth to dress the cut herself.

Alice had no outward reaction and had only this to say, “I may be no wiser, or fairer, or at all better than said stones, in most regards. I am, however, more compassionate than you could ever be. I ask that you allow me to help you, as your elder sister.”

The younger sneered at the witch and backhanded her across the face, though it didn’t seem to phase her, “I will sooner convert to your wicked beliefs other than that of the heavenly father!”

The young woman softly encased her sister’s wounded, calloused hand as her palms glowed a soft green. She brought the girl’s palm to her lips and released it, fully healed. Not saying a word in her defense, she turned and went back to peeling the apples that had piled up during their short dispute. Alice’s hands were swift and perfect in their motions, the fruit almost seemed to move on its own on the tips of her fingers as its skin fell from her grasp in satisfyingly unbroken rows. She had the muscle memory down to the point where her eyes were unfocused and wandered freely to the room around her and her siblings, almost as if she wasn’t stuck in the chair she worked from. Finally, her gaze stopped at the window on the far end of the barn, it faced a large cliff overlooking a vast body of water that stretched for miles and seemed too beautiful at sunset, with the intricate yellows and red and oranges mixing with the purple sky. Her mind started to draft a story that she’d probably only ever let her mother or tutor read as her eyes laid, unmoving, on the view through the window.

It took about 15 minutes for Alice to realize that her siblings had all left for the house, but once she did, she ran up to the house in time to see her mother set the corn, beef, and pork on the table, as well as a small pot of cabbage stew and a plate of her mother’s famous cinnamon-rolled apple slices. She called her siblings to the table before sitting down beside her father.

“So, what did Mr. Tutor-man teach you today?” Her mother, Marguerite, asked, pouring some of the broth into her bowl.

“Well, he taught me about William Shakespeare, John Donne, and Christopher Marlowe, he said we’re going to read Macbeth tomorrow,” she replied, stabbing a piece of beef with her fork.

“Macbeth, aye? Isn’t that the play where that one actress died?” William asked, puffing from the cigar between his fingers.

Marguerite sighed and slightly glared at her husband, “William, what did I say about smoking at the table, you know how bad John coughs when you smoke around him.”

“Excuse you, I’ll do whatever I want!” The man said, gripping tightly onto the roll of tobacco.

“William, you were never taught how to cook, I swear to god, I will let you starve,” her mother threatened, raising the ladle in her hand.

He seemed to quiet down for a while and dinner went on, as usual, talking about what the boys learned in school and how many apples Ada and Marguerite managed to pick that day. Before long, everyone went back to their rooms and changed into nightwear. Everyone, except for Alice, that is.

Alice stood in front of the vanity mirror in her nightgown, shears held up to her hair. Slowly, she sawed at the strands of black on her head with the blades. Afterward, she looked at her reflection, she thought of herself as beautiful, though this would definitely cause outrage in her father. She began to wonder why she cared so deeply about her father’s approval, he only seems to stay because her mother threatened his life whenever he even entertained the thoughts of leaving her with the five children they had. He didn’t care about them, why should she care about him?

“I need a new name… ugh!” Alice dropped her head and whispered before pausing, “William? No, I’m trying to distance myself from him, that’s not distance. John? No… Jack?”

Her head popped up. Jack. That fits. Jack gathered up all of her hair, silently packed everything she cared about into bags, dropped the strands into the firepit, lit it, and ran off into the night.

..................................................................................

What did you guys think? Any and all constructive criticism is appreciated.

[queendice98]

Chapter One: Misfits meet Mutants

Sixth grade, one of the most awkward and biggest turning points in any youth's life. Everyone is going through puberty, long-time friends are beginning to fight each other over petty things, and anyone that has problems at home feels even more helpless and lost. The last part couldn't be more true for childhood friends Maggie, Maddie, and Ash. It's hard enough that they're undergoing puberty, but on top of that their home lives are less than ideal for moody preteens.

Maggie has a decent relationship with her father; her mother, on the other hand, is another story. Her mother is not the nurturing type. Some would say that perhaps her mental health was to blame but that is certainly no excuse for the way she treats her daughter. It doesn't help Maggie's mood that her parents are always fighting, leaving the poor girl feeling alone and unstable.

Maggie sluggishly gets ready for her first day of 6th grade, not that she's really looking forward to it, she just wants to escape the shitfest she calls a house. The brunette brushes her hair and teeth before changing into a baggy black hoodie, jeans, and an old pair of tennis shoes. She swings her large backpack on and grabs whatever looks edible from the fridge before leaving her house and walking to the bus stop nearby.

Maddie had to wake up much earlier than her friends so that she had enough time to feed her two younger siblings and send them off to the bus stop. Being the responsible older sister she is, she always took care of her siblings. Her mother often chose sleeping over care of her younger children, leaving her eldest to do all the work. The young girl sighs, grabbing a Mountain Dew and a packet of Pop-Tarts before going to the bus stop. She texts Ash to see if her friend is awake yet.

The girls have known each other since kindergarten, they had gone through so much in elementary school and every experience made their bond much stronger. Maddie is happy to have a friend like her, she has no idea how she would have survived without Ash. Lord knows they'll need each other as they go through the very early stages of puberty. She climbs onto the school bus, texting Ash after sitting down.

Ash texts Maddie that she's awake and getting ready for school, trying desperately to drown out her fighting parents. The kind girl is used to hearing them fight every morning before they go to work. It's gotten to the point that she no longer needs an alarm to wake up. She stays in her room until they finally leave for work giving her a chance to grab something for breakfast. Quickly settling on a day-old seven-layer burrito from Taco Bell, she heads out the door, happy that summer is over and she's back in school.

Ash has been in a bad home for as long as she can remember, her situation only worsening when her mom met Gavin and later married him. When he came into her life, she stupidly fooled herself into thinking he was different from all her mother's other relationships. Now he's proven himself to be nothing more than an overweight, alcoholic, smoker that spends most of his time drinking and belittling her. What Ash wouldn't give to get rid of that asshole once and for all, then maybe she'll have her mom back.

All three girls have no idea that they're in for a surprise when they get to school. Maddie and Ash meet up in the cafeteria, easily spotting Maggie by her lonesome. "Hey stranger." Ash says as she and Maddie sit with the young Wiccan.

Maggie smiles at the two girls, remembering them from fifth grade and how kind they were to her. "How you girls doin'?" Maggie asks as she drinks some chocolate milk.

"Eh, kinda glad to be at school. Least I'm out of that damn house." Maddie shrugs while sipping on her Mountain Dew.

"I was at camp over the summer. It was definitely better than being at home all day." Ash adds, eating an apple.

"Sounds like y'all had fun. I was stuck at home all summer." Maggie scrolls threw her phone, absentmindedly looking at some memes.

Ash glances up, noticing her new neighbor in line to get breakfast. "Oh God, of course that idiot would be here." Ash groans, praying that she doesn't have any classes with him.

Meanwhile, the Hamato boys are in the car heading to school, "I can't wait! We're finally going to public school!" Mikey shouts while practically vibrating in his seat.

"Calm down Mikey, you're going to scare everyone." Raph grouches to his younger brother, still grumpy from waking up early. Leo was almost neurotically making sure he had everything in his backpack. Donnie surprisingly was the most calm during the car ride despite being extremely excited about getting to go to public school. He was focused on how he can learn far more under the instruction of qualified professionals than he ever could have while homeschooled.

Splinter is glad his boys are excited for their official first day of school. Although they had a rough summer moving from New York to Fort Worth, Texas, he was sure it was for the best. After all, being here would hopefully be good for his boys. Maybe Splinter will benefit from this as well. Once at the school, the boys rushed to get out of the car. "Have a good day, my sons!" Splinter exclaims, feeling a bit emotional watching his boys go inside.

The hours go by as well as expected on the first day; the usual confusion of finding one's class, the principal trying to be cool as she greets the student body over the intercom, all the cliche drawn out 'getting to know you' activities. The girls were separate most of the day, finally reuniting for gym class. "Hey, y'all heard about the four turtles that moved here?" Maggie asks as they change into their gym clothes.

"Yeah, I think I had one of them in my math class earlier." Maddie saw one of the Hamato boys in her class. The blue clad one if she remembers correctly.

"I saw them in the hall between classes, the one with an orange bandana is loud as Hell." Ash finishes changing and leads the three girls out of the locker room only to see the four turtles in their gym class.

"Great." Moaned all three as they sit as far away from everyone as possible.

"Okay guys, my name is coach Dianne and I will be your gym teacher for the next three years. It's our first day, so we're just going to do some stretches before we play dodgeball!"

Mikey looks around and sees the three girls sitting by themselves in a corner while they did some stretching. He stared, curious as to why they were so far away from everyone else.

Leo took notice of the scrunched up face his brother was making, "What are you looking at Mikey?" He follows his brother's gaze only to blush dark red. He hadn't expected to see Maddie in gym class with him. The poor guy hasn't realised he is slowly developing a crush on the short haired brunette, a bit clueless about things like this because of his isolated upbringing. Raph laughs quietly while watching his oldest, 'most mature,' brother turn redder than a ripe cherry at seeing a pretty girl.

Before Mikey could get the chance to walk up to the girls to say hi, the coach began splitting everyone up into teams so they could start playing dodgeball. Unfortunately for him, they are on the other team. Mikey tries to get struck out along with the girls, really wanting a chance to talk to them.

In spite of his brother's efforts, it is Donnie that gets struck out first. Being the tallest of his classmates makes him an easy target. Ash gets hit not long after by a lucky shot, despite her doing an amazing job at dodging due to her small stature.

She sits near Donnie, grabs a book from her backpack and begins to read. Donnie notes that she's reading Macbeth and can't resist but get a little closer to her. "So, um, I see that you're into Shakespeare. I like his work too." He says in an attempt to make small talk.

She glances up, surprised that someone actually wants to talk to her. Hardly anyone talks to her. "It's okay, not one of my favorites. I'm just reading ahead for my English homework." Ash replies to the tall nerdy terrapin, blushing as she takes a good look at him. He's pretty cute for a mutant turtle. An adorable gap between his teeth and enchanting red-brown eyes are two things she spots off the bat.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Donnie." The shy boy extends a large three digit hand, shaking Ash's far smaller one. He's blown away by how beautiful she is. Extra long espresso locks, soft pale skin, sweet sensitive brown eyes, she's an absolute angel.

"I'm Ash, it's nice to meet you."

Leo is next to get hit and forced to sit on the bleachers. His sapphire blue eyes widen when he sees Maddie get struck out and begin walking in his direction. He wants to talk to her, but he has no idea what to say. "Um, hi." Leo says, his voice squeaking a little. He brushes it off the best he can, especially now that he's gotten her attention.

"Yes?" Maddie questions, wondering what this nerd could possibly want from her.

"I, uh, saw you in math class, and I want to get to know you a little better." Leo fidgets awkwardly under her harsh gaze. With her standing in front of him, he can really admire her better. Short, honey-brown hair frames her face perfectly. Her face and arms are splattered with adorable freckles. But, it's her eyes that fluster Leo the most. They're a beautiful blue-green. The shades shift depending on how the light hits them.

"Uh okay, what do you want to know?" Maddie asks, not knowing why Leo wants to talk to her but open to talk. The fact that the blue clad turtle is fairly handsome may have slightly opened her up to discussion. Pine green skin and sweet round sapphire eyes? Swoon worthy.

"So uh, Mr. Evans is a nutcase huh?" Leo chokes out. Jesus, he sucks at flirting. Just being social is a struggle when you've been isolated for so long, how is he supposed to hit on someone? Everyone that was watching them could see he was struggling like Hell.

Raph and Maggie are soon struck out. The red banded turtle watches Maggie sit down and curl in on herself. He is pulled in by how mysterious she looks. Raph has no idea that in reality the young woman is a small angry gremlin. He swaggers over to her, in reality looking like a fucking idiot, "Sup! How are ya?" Raph asks the young Wiccan.

"Hi?" Maggie responds hesitantly, unsure why he's talking to her.

Suspicious of new people, she stays curled into herself. This doesn't exactly hide her as much as she wishes it did, however. Long, dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing and enchanting hazel eyes as she peers up at the intruder to her personal space.

"So how's your day going?" He asks, noticing that Maggie seems to be a bit wary.

She decides he's not posing a threat, at least not currently, "Eh it's what you'd expect on the first day of school." Maggie shrugs, humming non-committedly. She is just a bit unsure how to react now that Raph is talking to her. The two continue chatting about classes, Maggie letting Raph lead the conversation for the most part.

Finally, Mikey gets struck out of the game. "Hey guys!" The youngest turtle shouts, curious as to what his older brothers are doing. His face absolutely lights up when he sees that the girls he wanted to talk to earlier are now talking with his brothers.

Leo sees his baby brother making his way towards him and Maddie, he prays that Mikey doesn't embarrass him. Maddie sees the excitable turtle braces for herself. He seems nice but at the same time she's not sure if he's really friendly. "Maddie, this is my baby brother Mikey." Leo introduces the two, knowing Mikey wants to talk to her.

Mikey excitedly shakes Maddie's hand. He can't believe he has a new friend. "I love your hoodie! I'm a fan of My Hero Academia too!" Mikey exclaims, happy someone likes the same show he likes.

"Yeah? I just got into it recently. It's awesome!" Maddie says as she begins to talk to the orange clad turtle. Leo can't believe that Mikey took Maddie's attention away from him, then again, he should have expected this from his baby brother.

Casey spots Ash on the bleachers and heads over. He's eager to get to know his next-door neighbor, "Hey there, how's it going?"

Ash looks up at Casey and groans, why does he have to be her class? "Hi, I'm okay." Ash replied curtly.

Donnie wonders how they know each other. "So um, how do you two know each other? Do you have a class together or something?"

Ash shakes her head, "No he's my next-door neighbor, he moved into my neighborhood during the summer." She has nothing against Casey. It's just that he seems to follow her wherever she goes. Before they could have a chance to really talk, the bell rings for lunch. Ash sighs in relief as she grabs her things and Maddie so they can get away from all of these people. Maggie follows them, overhearing that they're going to hide out in the art room. Being in a quiet spot is better than being in the loud cafeteria.

The three girls wait in line to get some food, blissfully unaware that Mikey is planning to get the three girls to become his best friends. "So, you two gonna join any clubs or something?" Maddie asks as she grabs a tray of food and some milk.

Maggie grabs some food as well, sticking out her tongue at the choices, "I'm probably gonna join the band or something."

"I might join the cooking or arts and crafts club." Ash says, not caring how long she stays after school. It's better than being at home.

The boys are looking around for a place to sit only for their baby brother to drag them to the art room. "Mikey, where are you taking us?" Leo questions. Mikey doesn't answer, but his brothers have no choice but to follow him to make sure that he's okay. Casey goes with the turtles. He just feels like they may be fun to hang around. As the girls get settled in the art room, they hear muffled voices in the hall. They share confused looks until Mikey bursts through the door and sits down. The girls are startled and a bit nervous, but choose not to question it.

"Hi! I'm Michelangelo, but you guys can call me Mikey. I saw you guys in gym class and wanted to get to know you." Mikey bounces excitedly as he sits in front of the girls.

Once they enter the art room, Leo, Donnie, Raph, and Casey stop to catch their breath. Leo and his other two brothers begin apologizing for Mikey's behavior. Unlike the orange clad baby, they could recognize he was acting like a total stalker. The girls accepted their apology, seeing that Mikey means no harm. And who could say no to his adorable face? Especially when he just wanted to make friends!

"So uh Mikey, what elementary school did you and your brothers go to?" Ash asks as she eats her Burger.

"Oh we've been homeschooled until we moved here in June." Mikey replies as he eats his tots.

"Yeah, we're actually from New York. But Dad wanted to move here so we have a better education." Donnie adds as he peels an orange.

Maddie is stunned, "We don't usually get a lot of people from up North, they think our weather is too crazy."

"Yup, Texas has crazy weather." Maggie adds.

"No kidding! How can you survive in this weather? How do you walk around in the summer heat without dying?" Leo asks, amazed how anyone can stand the heat at all.

"We were raised in it, that's just how we are." Ash says as she doesn't think that heat is that bad.

Maddie and Leo blush when their eyes meet. They can't help but glance at each other, finding each other cute. Mikey notices their stares as he talks to Ash and Maggie, he's definitely going to tease Leo later.

"So what was it like in the Big Apple?" Maggie questions curiously.

Raph was happy to answer that question between bites of his burger. "It was okay, we mainly stayed in the house. Dad was paranoid about something happening to us."

The girls were surprised. Not only did they not see much of New York, but their dad was concerned enough for their safety that they moved so far away. "It's pretty cool, I want to go back when I get older." Casey stuffs his face with soggy tater-tots, continuing the conversation by telling them some stories he had from the few years he lived in the big city before moving.

The tweens continue talking to each other, and the girls are pleasantly surprised that they are having fun with these New Yorkers. The three girls are used to living in solitude and only talking to others when they have to, so this is a nice change. Mikey is just happy to have made some new friends on his first day of public school. Everyone is enjoying themselves as they chat among each other until lunch is over and they must go to their next lesson.

Donnie and Ash blush when they see they have the same science class. Ash thought she's the only one in the honors courses, unaware that Donnie is just as big a nerd as she is. The rest of the day goes by fairly well, the bell promptly releasing the students from class. The day is over, and they're free to go home.

The Hamato boys patiently wait for Rat Dad to come and pick them up. Mikey sees Ash and Maddie are waiting for their late bus and waves at them. Smiling when they wave back at him.

Leo soon sees Rat Dad's car, "C'mon Mikey, Father's here!" He shouts. Raph, seeing Mikey had seemingly completely ignored Leo, grabs his baby brother's arm and yanks him into the car.

"I assume you boys had a good day at school?" Splinter questions hopefully as he watches his boys get into the car.

"We had a great day Papa! I made some new friends!" Mikey shouts as he puts his seatbelt on.

"Yeah, we met them in gym class. They're really nice." Donnie says, a bright blush on his face.

"They're nice girls." Leo adds, getting Splinter's attention.

Splinter is apprehensive that the first friends they made were girls, though knowing his youngest he has no reason for concern. Mikey just wants to be friends with anyone and everyone. The more Splinter listens to what Mikey tells him, the more he relaxes as he can tell that Mikey is just trying to be friendly. Rat Dad is relieved that his boys had a good day at school, he had worried that moving here wouldn't turn out the way he had hoped. Thankfully Fort Worth seems like a great choice for him and his boys so far. If only they knew this was just the beginning of their new lives.

[tsukikoayanosuke]

Behind the Fic: TW:OPT - Chapter 67 - 71

Woohoo! We finally end this Halloween Special. It took nearly a week to finish this mini Arc and I apologize for that. I really stretched this Arc for far too long.

Well, then on to the rambling because the behind the scene is actually pretty weird.

WARNING: This will contain a bit of spoiler for the newest chapters of my fan fiction Twisted-Wonderland: Our Precious Treasure. Click here to read the whole mini-arc from the beginning!

The title of this 5-episodes mini-arc is the lyrics from “I Wanna Scare Myself” from Boo to You, Winnie the Pooh. This is probably one of the most memorable Halloween songs for me besides This Is Halloween. But also because I just really love Winnie the Pooh.

The purpose of this arc is actually three things: 1) As a bridge between the infirmary break and the future Leona's therapy; 2) Introducing the concept of 'first kiss' to Jonah; 3) telling that Jonah was born in Halloween day

Jonah's birthday is in Halloween was not because Halloween is my favorite holiday. It's actually also connected to the source material Jonah was based on.

I've made a list for every costume for the boys, unfortunately, only a few that appeared.

Now, let's talk about the actual Halloween celebration.

The Halloween Party was inspired by the Yule Ball from Harry Potter, which is why there was a dance between the prefects and their partner.

Jonah and Cater ship A-Deuce

Speaking of that A-Deuce moment, it was completely off-script. I just want to write something about Ace and Deuce because I feel like they are lacking (and oh boy, Octavinelle Arc will be a toll to write because of that one major change), so like back in, I gave them small moments together.

I'm actually pretty nervous about the actual Scooby-Doo part. I really want to write something about the Board Game Club to show how close they are. I don't know whether I succeed or not.

Writing Idia and Ortho turned out to be easy after my research, but I'm still not confident about how I wrote them.

Let's talk about Maryanne, shale we?

The Tale of the Unfortunate Sacrificial Flower is a made-up tale by me, but there are some inspirations.

This funny story was the base of this Halloween Arc. As you noticed, some parts were cut, like almost all of them. It didn't turn out to be similar to Ghost Marriage it's worse.

The original idea is for the Board Game Club to find an ancient board game where the spirit inside it corrupt one of the member. If that corrupted-being kisses you, you'll get corrupted too.

This was inspired by a very old YouTube Poop my brother used to watch called ”The Rise of Sqeegee” where Weegee (a parody of Luigi) corrupted Squidward and caused chaos. He got killed but always got revived at the start of every episode.

The board game was supposed to be similar to an Ouija Board, where the gang must find the letter to spell a word. This was inspired by the Destiny Board in Yu-Gi-Oh!

However, I thought that a fetch quest was too long for a mini-series, so soon the whole idea was scrapped.

The new idea was playing the main plot of Hocus Pocus (1993), 'Papa' Lilia's story in particular. The tale of a witch who wants to eat the soul of children to live an immortal life. Also, the part where the Sanderson sister will return if a virgin lit up the black candle

But instead of a witch, we have a very vengeful soul-ghost who also eats the souls of the magicians

And since this school has no child except Ortho, it was changed into 'young magicians'.

The black candle art was changed slightly. Since the soul-sucking ghost was locked in a box, she will be free if a 17 years old virgin opens the box.

The box itself was inspired by the Millennium Puzzle Box from Yu-Gi-Oh!

I'm not really familiar to Hocus Pocus (1993) so I don't know whether Maryanne similar to someone or not. Maryanne was supposed my interpretation of the chaotic mind of Weegee, keeping the original idea there.

I have a thing of writing a very creepy and haughty lady (I don't know whether I should call Maryanne seductive or not), so Maryanne was a blast to write.

Jonah is confirmed a virgin. And he's 17 by Halloween.

“ Chapter 69: Cover Your Eyes Little Buddy, Beware! “ has so many great lines, especially from Maryanne. I just love how she just shot the member one by one.

Azul in particular was commented a lot since Maryanne called him "Definitely not a virgin." I just think it's funny. He just looks like a mafia boss so he surely would have a harem. But I'll let you decide whether Azul is a virgin or not.

“We need to warn everyone!” Idia cried. “There are hundreds of virgins in that gym!” 

That's my personal favorite of the chapter.

There's a reference of Your Lie in April when Azul was calming Jonah down.

" Chapter 69: Cover Your Eyes Little Buddy, Beware! ” marks the first time Jonah ever caught a broom without smacking himself in the face.

Leona and Ruggie's interaction actually came out of nowhere. Originally, I want Leona just coincidentally walked up to the ghost's final battle or him noticing the disturbance from Savanaclaw. But I was like: "No. That's illogical." So, I made Leona go to the party.

Leona and Ruggie's interaction can be seen as romantic or platonic. I just really like how Ruggie was so loyal to Leona that even after he got Thanos-ed he still become in mom.

The ingredient of the exorcising spell was a reference to Witch Hazel's version of Macbeth's Double, "Double, Toil and Trouble" from Donald Duck Trick or Treat (1952)

The exorcism spell was made up by me and translated from English to Latin by Google Translate 

“O errantes spiritu supra inferna” = “Oh, wandering spirit beyond the grave” “exilium perpetuum” = “banish forever”

The whole conversation between Jonah and Azul in “ Chapter 71: And Who Better?! ” was originally supposed to go in “ Chapter 69: Cover Your Eyes Little Buddy, Beware! ” but it was nearly cut from the fanfic as a whole.

I really want Crowley to slowly be a father figure for Jonah, that's why the scene between those two exist.

Again, it was inspired by many Irondad-Spiderson fics

I actually made a list of the ages of the cast until this point. I presume everyone will reach their canon age during 2020. Here's the calculation: (Not include Lilia, Malleus, Leona, and Ortho)

Entrance Ceremony: September 1

15 During 2020 Entrance Ceremony: Ace, Jack 16 During 2020 Entrance Ceremony: Jonah, Deuce, Floyd, Jade, Jamil, Epel, Sebek 17 During 2020 Entrance Ceremony: Riddle, Trey, Azul, Kalim, Rook, Idia, Ruggie, Silver 18 During 2020 Entrance Ceremony: Cater, Vil

Some characters birthday are after September 1, so they are one year younger at the start of the story: Jamil (September 12), Ace (September 23), Jack (October 11), Trey (October 25), Floyd and Jade (November 5), Rook (December 2), Idia (December 18)

Halloween: October 31

16 During 2020 Halloween: Ace, Deuce, Floyd, Jade, Epel, Jack, Sebek 17 During 2020 Halloween: Jonah, Riddle, Azul, Kalim, Jamil, Rook, Idia, Ruggie, Silver 18 During 2020 Halloween: Trey, Cater, Vil

Some characters birthday are after October 31, so they are still one year younger than their original age: Floyd and Jade (November 5), Rook (December 2), Idia (December 18)

In conclusion: Jonah, who is confirmed to be a 17 years old virgin by Hallow Eve’s, is the oldest between the first year gang. He’s also a few days older than the Leech Twins!

[clarasimone]

Iain Glen nailing Hamlet (1991)

In 1991, after winning the Evening Standard Film Award for Best Actor, Iain Glen gave his soulful all, not on the stage in London, no, not yet, though really he could have, but at the Old Vic in Bristol, donning the persona of the Dane, Hamlet. He won the Special Commendation Ian Charleson Award* for his performance and yet it appears we will never see but stills from this production as no video recording was made, not even by and for the company. The University of Bristol has the archives of the production: the playbook, the programme and black and white stills. The V&A archives have the administrative papers. In our day and age, this sad evanescent corporeal sate of affairs is unimaginable. The memory of the play, of this performance fading away? We rebel against the very thought. We brandish our cell phones and swear we shall unearth and pirate its memory, somehow, somewhere. Even if we have to hypnotize patrons or pull out the very hearts of those who saw Iain Glen on stage, those few, those happy few, to read into their very memory and pulsating membrane just how brilliant he was. Because he was, he was. That’s what they’ll all tell you... 

Below, those pics and testimonies....

*(The Charleson Awards were established in memory of Ian Charleson, who died at 40 from Aids while playing Hamlet at the National Theatre in 1989)

- Iain Glen is a rampaging prince, quixotic, technically sound, tense as a coiled spring, funny. ‘To be, or not to be’ results from throwing himself against the white walls, an air of trembling unpredictability is beautifully conveyed throughout. ‘Oh, what a rogue and peasants slave’ is blindingly powerful. My life is drawn in angrily modern post Gielgud Hamlets: David Warner, Nicol Williams, Visotsky, Jonathon Price. Iain Glen is equal to them. He keeps good company. THE OBSERVER, Michael Coveney

- Paul Unwin’s riveting production reminded me more strongly than any I have ever seen that the Danish Court is riddled with secrecy. Politics is a form of hide and seek: everyone stealthily watches everyone else. Iain Glen’s Hamlet is a melancholic in the clinical sense: his impeccable breeding and essential good nature keep in check what might be an approaching breakdown. His vitriolic humour acts as a safety valve for a nagging instability, his boyish charm is deployed to placate and deceive a hostile and watchful world. Glen brings out Hamlet’s fatal self absorption: the way he cannot help observing himself and putting a moral price tag on every action and failure. He is a doomed boy. And his chill but touching calm at the end is that of a man who has finally understood the secrets behind the closed doors. The Sunday Times, John Peter

- This is an excellent production of Hamlet from the Bristol Old Vic. The director Paul Unwin and his designer Bunnie Christie have set the play in turn of the century Europe. Elsinore is a palace of claustrophobically white walls and numerous doors. All this is handled with a light touch, without drawing attention away from the play. Our first encounter with Hamlet shows him bottled up with rage and grief. Glen gives a gripping performance. The self-dramatising side of the character is tapped to the full by this talented actor. The Spectator, Christopher Edwards

**************************************************************************************************

The following though is my favorite review/article because it situates Iain Glen’s creation is time, in the spectrum of all renowned Hamlets.

How will Cumberbatch, TV’s Sherlock, solve the great mystery of Hamlet? by Michael Coveney - Aug 17, 2015

In 1987, three years before he died, the critic and venerable Shakespearean JC Trewin published a book of personal experience and reminiscence: Five and Eighty Hamlets. I’m thinking of supplying a second volume, under my own name, called Six and Fifty Hamlets, for that will be my total once Benedict Cumberbatch has opened at the Barbican.

There’s a JC and MC overlap of about 15 years: Trewin was a big fan of Derek Jacobi’s logical and graceful prince in 1977 and ended with less enthusiastic remarks about “the probing intelligence” of Michael Pennington in 1980 (both Jacobi and Pennington were 37 when they played the role; Cumberbatch is 39) and emotional pitch and distraction of Roger Rees in 1984 (post-Nickleby, Rees was 40, but an electric eel and ever-youthful).

I started as a reviewer in 1972 with three Hamlets on the trot: the outrageous Charles Marowitz collage, which treats Hamlet as a creep and Ophelia as a demented tart, and makes exemplary, equally unattractive polar opposites of Laertes and Fortinbras; a noble, stately Keith Michell (with a frantic Polonius by Ron Moody) at the Bankside Globe, Sam Wanamaker’s early draft of the Shakespearean replica; and a 90-minute gymnastic exercise performed by a cast of eight in identical chain mail and black breeches at the Arts Theatre.

This gives an idea of how alterable and adaptable Hamlet has been, and continues to be. There are contestable readings between the Folios, any number of possible cuts, and there is no end of choice in emphasis. Trewin once wrote a programme note for a student production directed by Jonathan Miller in which he said that the first scene on the battlements (“Who’s there?”) was the most exciting in world drama; the scene was cut.

And as Steven Berkoff pointed out in his appropriately immodestly titled book I Am Hamlet (1989), Hamlet doesn’t exist in the way Macbeth, or Coriolanus, exists; when you play Hamlet, he becomes you, not the other way round. Hamlet, said Hazlitt, is as real as our own thoughts.

Which is why my three favourite Hamlets are all so different from each other, and attractive because of the personality of the actor who’s provided the mould for the Hamlet jelly: my first, pre-critical-days Hamlet, David Warner (1965) at the Royal Shakespeare Company, was a lank and indolently charismatic student in a long red scarf, exact contemporary of David Halliwell’s Malcolm Scrawdyke, and two years before students were literally revolting in Paris and London; then Alan Cumming (1993) with English Touring Theatre, notably quick, mercurial and very funny, with a detachable doublet and hose, black Lycra pants and bovver boots, definitely (then) the glass of fashion, a graceful gender-bender like Brett Anderson of indie band Suede; and, at last, Michael Sheen (2011) at the Young Vic, a vivid and overreaching fantasist in a psychiatric institution (“Denmark’s a prison”), where every actor “plays” his part.

These three actors – Warner, Cumming, Sheen – occupy what might be termed the radical, alternative tradition of Hamlets, whereas the authoritative, graceful nobility of Jacobi belongs to the Forbes Robertson/John Gielgud line of high-ranking top drawer ‘star’ turns, a dying species and last represented, sourly but magnificently, by Ralph Fiennes (1995) in the gilded popular palace of the Hackney Empire. Fiennes, like Cumberbatch, has the sort of voice you might expect a non-radical, traditional Hamlet to possess.

But if you listen to Gielgud on tape, you soon realise he wasn’t ‘old school’ at all. He must have been as modern, at the time, as Noel Coward. Gielgud is never ‘intoned’ or overtly posh, he’s quicksilver, supple, intellectually alert. I saw him deliver the “Oh what a rogue and peasant slave” soliloquy on the night the National left the Old Vic (February 28, 1976); he had played the role more than 500 times, and not for 37 years, but it was as fresh, brilliant and compelling as if he had been making it up on the spot.

Ben Kingsley, too, in 1975, was a fiercely intelligent Royal Shakespeare Company Hamlet, and I saw much of that physical and mental power in David Tennant’s, also for the RSC in 2008, with an added pinch of mischief and irony. There’s another tradition, too, of angry Hamlets: Nicol Williamson in 1969, a scowling, ferocious demon; Jonathan Pryce at the Royal Court in 1980, possessed by the ghost of his father and spewing his lines, too, before finding Yorick’s skull in a cabinet of bones, an ossuary of Osrics; and a sourpuss Christopher Ecclestone (2002), spiritually constipated, moody as a moose with a migraine, at the West Yorkshire Playhouse.

One Hamlet who had a little of all these different attributes – funny, quixotic, powerful, unhappy, clever and genuinely heroic – was Iain Glen (1991) at the Bristol Old Vic, and I can imagine Cumberbatch developing along similar lines. He, like so many modern Hamlets, is pushing 40 – as was Jude Law (2009), hoary-voiced in the West End – yet when Trevor Nunn cast Ben Whishaw (2004) straight from RADA, aged 23, petulant and precocious, at the Old Vic, he looked like a 16-year-old, and too young for what he was saying. It’s like the reverse of King Lear, where you have to be younger to play older with any truth or vigour.

Michael Billington’s top Hamlet remains Michael Redgrave, aged 50, in 1958, as he recounts in his brilliant new book, The 101 Greatest Plays (seven of the 101 are by Shakespeare); Hamlet, he says, more than any other play, alters according to time as well as place.

So, Yuri Lyubimov’s great Cold War Hamlet, the prince played by the dissident poet Vladimir Visotsky, was primarily about surveillance, the action played on either side of an endlessly moving hessian and woollen wall. And in Belgrade in 1980, shortly after the death of Tito, the play became a statement of anxiety about the succession.

There’s a mystery to Hamlet that not even Sherlock Holmes could solve, though Cumberbatch will no doubt try his darndest – even if he finds his Watson at the Barbican (Leo Bill is playing Horatio) more of a hindrance than a help; there are, after all, more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in his friend’s philosophy.

*************************************************************************************************

Oh! Did I say that we were never going to see Iain Glen in the skin of the great Dane? Tsk. How silly of me. Meet IG’s Hamlet in Tom Stoppard’s postmodern theatrical whimsy ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD, shot the year before the Bristol play.

Though almost surreal and most often funny as the film follows the Pulp Fiction-like misadventures of two forgettable Shakespearian characters, crossing paths with other more or less fortunate characters, their time with Hamlet makes us privy to the Dane as we never quite see him in the Bard’s play... but for one memorable scene,  in which Iain Glen absolutely nails it, emoting the famous “To be or not to be” which you see tortures his soul, brings tears to his eyes and contorts his mouth; the moment made all the more memorable by the fact that it is a silent scene. You never hear him utter the famous line, but you see the words leave his lips and feel them mark your soul.

I’m kinda telling myself that it’s 1991 and I’m sitting in the Old Vic, in Bristol, not London. Not yet.

[caldonahue]

    —introducing callaghan “cal” donahue as macbeth

trigger warning: murder, death, drug use and overdose, abuse, disassociation

hi friends! i’m farah, i’m twenty-two, i go by she/her pronouns, i live in the pst timezone, and i’m literally so? stoked? to be here. i don’t think i’ve ever written a character quite this dark before so this shall be interesting... beware, cal is literal trash. anyway, i just finished writing a paper right before i was supposed to turn it in at midnight *wipes the imaginary sweat off my forehead* so my brain’s a little fried. but i promise i will try to be all caught up and in full-force tomorrow. that being said, please come plot with me. you can message me on here or on my discord ( farah#1263 ). can’t wait to stir up tons of trouble with you all.

skeleton: macbeth

name: callaghan “cal” donahue

age: twenty-two

birthdate: may 25, 1997

birthplace: manhattan, new york

faceclaim: jacob elordi

gender: cis-male

pronouns: he/him

degree: business

pinterest board

cal grew up in primarily in new york in one of the richest families in america. from the outside, his family had the appearance of perfection, but underneath that facade lay years of shocking and hidden family secrets that one way or another got out into society, even if his family tried to put them down as merely rumors.

cal’s father is a highly respected but also deeply feared business man/media magnate known for his cutthroat attitude in his business dealings and personal relationships. he had an extremely difficult childhood, having been orphaned at a young age and passed from relative to relative around europe, many of whom were not very kind to him. still, he was incredibly intelligent and wanted to make something of himself, having this belief in the american dream and wanting to move there if he ever got the chance. when he got offered a full-ride to ashcroft, he ran with it. it wasn’t america, but he figured the opportunities could lead to that. (this makes cal a legacy, which is one of the reasons he was asked to join the imperium society along with his father’s global reputation). and they did. after college, he was able to use his connections and move to new york, where he founded his own start-up that eventually led to him building his own personal fortune.

cal’s mother was very much a hustler. she grew up poor in new york and at an early age, learned how to use her good looks to manipulate men for the finer things in life. she had a short stint as a model before she met cal’s father, charming him enough to call it quits with his first wife who had just given birth to his first son. underneath her obvious beauty, however, was a fiery temper and substance abuse problem. the thing about her was that she really wasn’t made to be a wife and mother. cal’s father thought he could turn her into this perfect socialite/housewife (marrying her and then proceeding to have cal and his younger sister in a very short span of time), but the task proved impossible. she was always only looking out for herself and didn’t enjoy being tied down, certainly not with kids to take care of despite the nannies his father provided. they fought constantly, and their home life was extremely unstable. it was a normal occurrence for cal to see his mother being dragged off to an institution by his father’s security guards or for his mother to use him and his sister as bait to get his father to give her money for drugs, to leave him, or sometimes just to try and get back with him.

eventually, she finally did leave, having told cal and his sister the three of them were moving to los angeles, but leaving without them and dying of a drug overdose shortly after. cal was about eight at the time and thinks he has successfully hidden this entire episode from his memory, but it’s definitely something that affects him whether he likes it or not.

while his father cares deeply for his children and has provided them a life of ease and luxury, he’s certainly not innocent in all of this mess. he’s extremely manipulative and often psychologically traumatizing to them as well. he often finds his children to be lazy and ungrateful and resents the way they’ve been raised (even though it was his own doing), while he suffered from poverty and abuse in his own childhood. he often pits the three of them against each other, always trying to see who’s the stronger, smartest, who will do whatever it takes to be the best, especially because there’s always talk about who’s going to be the one to be the one who’s going to take over when he retires. it is usually said to be cal, because it’s no secret that he’s his father’s favorite. his older brother’s too sensitive in his father’s eyes and his sister doesn’t want anything to do with the family business, although she could be a rival in her own right.

the thing about cal is that he’s a bit of a perfectionist. he was someone who was born well-connected and with many talents, but because of his father’s constant watching and pressure, he’s always afraid that all of that isn’t enough. and a lot of times, it isn’t with his father because he’s almost impossible to please. and to him, pleasing his father is everything. the man is basically a god to him. cal is the type of person who looks like everything is so easy for them. he always got top grades, was stellar in sports, and was wildly charming and popular. but these were all things he worked hard at to perfect. it took a lot of work to become the cal donahue he is today, which is why his literal fall from grace is so upsetting.

the two things cal fears the most is being a failure and going insane. his father has a habit of using his mother’s temper, drug addiction, and mental illness again him, kind of saying things like i had you don’t end up her, son (even though his father has plenty of issues himself he could pass down to him). and he is like his mother in a lot of ways. he definitely has an anger problem and has had one since he was incredibly young, but it’s always something he’s tried to cover up his entire life. the thing is, though, it’s easy to make him snap. especially when things don’t go his way or he doesn’t get what he wants. those are the two instances that really set him off. he has the need to succeed, and he doesn’t want anything short of perfect. how far his anger can go honestly really scares him (and what happened with octavia was just an example of that). for a guy who looks and acts like he has everything, he is extremely insecure and has major abandonment issues deep down, resulting from all of the trauma he’s been put through between his parents.

he loves control and loves to be made to think he’s in control. in reality, because of his father, he’s no stranger to manipulation. so it makes sense on how it easy it was for lady macbeth to get him to do what he did, even though he went much farther than what she had originally asked him to do. really, all she had to do what boost his ego and ultimately, he probably got off on thinking he’s this tough guy who’s going to protect her, because at the end of the day he’s never felt in control of his life because his dad’s always been calling the shots and making him how he wanted him to be (and what he wants him to be is kind of ambiguous... like he doesn’t really want him to be a good person, so what is it then? someone who will do anything it takes to be successful and win?)

so diving into the murder... i mean, cal is not a sociopath... i think he was raised by someone who had sociopathic tendencies and these may have rubbed off on him a bit. is he a good person? obviously not with what he’s done, but even before that i feel like that area was kind of grey. there was this cutthroat, narcissistic edge about him and while he displayed this charming mask to his peers, he may have been closer to snapping than even he himself realized. he definitely wasn’t raised to have an outstanding moral compass; he was raised to be the best, and looking at his household, chaos is kind of what he knows and thrives on even though he wouldn’t admit that. he’s the type of guy that people like to a certain extent or have to give praise to but if you’re looking closely, there’s just something off like he’s almost too successful? or maybe he never seems genuine? he definitely strives to display this image of perfection, but sometimes so much so that it’s almost unnerving? he will take the necessary measures to get what he wants and ultimately, he’s gone too far. he does feel guilty, but it’s also triggered this weird grey area on him because he’s literally got away with murder.

his mental state is just really fractured and i feel like it’s getting harder for him to decipher what is reality and what’s not if that makes sense? like he’ll go through periods of extreme guilt, especially being plagued by horrible nightmares and being haunted by octavia’s ghost. but he also has this sense of feeling a bit untouchable? maybe awakening a god complex in him? i feel like that idea was sort of already there before, but it’s just magnified now and at points he’s just on the verge of a mental breakdown, not sure what to do? confess, try to carry on with his life, experiment with the idea of being able to get away with anything?

he’s deeply terrified of people finding out, but he’s also down deep a very wounded person and feels like maybe that’s what he deserves (his father always made it out like he didn’t deserve his charmed life, he never felt worthy of his mother’s love, now he’s a murderer...)

[gingerbreadbooks2020]

Bookblr post #22

It’s March 31st and I finished Faeries, Elves & Goblins by Rosalind Kerven! Well, I actually finished off today (April 1st) but that was just the notes, so shhh!

[Images above:

Top left: title page for The Good People’s Shawl, from the Isle of Man. The left page is an illustration of a young woman in a blue dress and white bonnet sitting at an old spinning wheel.

Top right: A double page illustration, a silhouette of three faeries stirring a cauldron. Behind them is a strawberry bush.

Middle left: title page for A Brewery Of Eggshells, from England. The left page is an illustration. Set in a living room, to the left is a young man stood over a fire. In the foreground of the image is a younger boy laying in a cot.

Middle middle: title page for Thomas the Rhymer, from Scotland. The left page is an illustration of a Faery Queen in a long flowing dress, the ends of which are being held by two faeries in flight. It’s nighttime, and they’re under a tree with small white blossoms.

Middle right: title page for The Magic Ointment, a tale from England. The left page is an illustration of three people stood in a garden with a stone path. In the back of the image is a man and a lady. In the midground is a man in slightly ragged clothes, with a greyish skin tone, and elvish looking ears.

Bottom left:title page for Flying with the Faeries. The left page is an illustration of a landscape. In the distance is a village, and in front of that, closer to the foreground is an orchard. In the foreground is a tree with a large root, open to explore. Inside is a young boy with two women, one of whom has their back to the reader.

Bottom right: title page for the notes section of the book. Under the title ‘Notes’ is a small passage (see later in the post for the passage). The left page is an illustration. The background is an orange sky with some white clouds. The focus of the image is a silhouette of three faeries hanging on to three thin branches which are vertical, hanging down the page. These images are all my own.]

First I read The Good People’s Shawl, from the Isle of Man. In this one I was a bit confused as to who to feel sorry for, I suppose. And that’s not a bad thing, the story’s well written. I think it’s just the purpose of the story, or part of how it’s written anyway. In the story, a woman, tired of spinning wool, hires a maid and leaves for the day, giving the girl an impossible amount of work to do. The girl, knowing she can’t do it all, goes out to the garden to ask help from the faeries. The phynodderee appears, and promises her that, if she says a phrase and leaves for the day it will all be done. When she returns, a group of faeries rush out, and she finds all the wool has been spun, and a shawl has been hung on the curtain rail. The woman returns, angry that the wool had been spun ‘wrong’, and tells the girl she knows that faeries did the work. The woman tries on the shawl but it’s cursed to become coarse and dark. The girl is fired, but when she wears the shawl is softens and gains an earthy colour, obviously blessed for her. I was unsure who to ‘trust’ for a moment as the girl, who has been given work to do, simply doesn’t want to do it. She doesn’t even try to get through it. However, the woman is at fault for leaving her an impossible task, and is then cruel to the girl at the end of the story, so obviously my heart went out to the poor girl.

After that I read A Brewery of Eggshells, from England. A widow has two young boys. The older grows to be stron and fit, and leaves for the army. The younger, however, refuses to even crawl, even at fourteen years of age. He doesn’t speak, it is thought he has some illness, and becomes uglier than he was as a babe. When the older comes back from serving in the war, he proclaims that he knows what the problem is. He empties out an egg, leaving the shell, and fills it with hops and ale, before handing it in a pot over the fire to ‘cook’. Immediately, the younger boy cries out, ‘Ha ha ha!; through twice seven years I’ve lived with you; and seven hundred years before; a soldier brewing beer in an eggshell; is the daftest thing I ever saw!’ The soldier kicked the changeling out of the house, and the widow’s younger son appeared before her, the real one. I’ve heard of changeling stories before, and generally understood the gist, but this was the first I’ve ever actually read.

Next was Thomas the Rhymer, from Scotland. Thomas is one day playing the harp when a beautiful women, the Faery Queen, appears before him, and promises to fulfill any wish he has if he plays another song. His wish is for a kiss. As soon as his lips touch hers, she takes him to Faeryland and makes him her servant. At the end of his duties, as a gift for his excellent work, she gifts him with an enchanted apple, which will make him only speak the truth and allow his heart to know the future. She says if he uses the gift well, she shall allow him back to Faeryland. Thomas forgets the enchantment when he wakes up at the fiel he was found in, eating the apple eagerly. As he can only speak the truth, people think he’s gone mad, and he never finds employment. He finds solace in speaking poems, eventually forseeing the death of the king. The people are amazed at this, calling him a prophet. After this, he’s not seen again, supposedly back in faeryland.

Following this was The Magic Ointment, from England. There are nasty rumours surrounding Betty and Tom, but Old Joan refuses to believe them and stays friendly with the couple. She visits them one day but peers through the keyhole to see Betty putting an ointment on Tom’s eyes. Old Joan is invited in as Tom heads out, but as Betty goes into the pantry to get something, Old Joan sneaks some of the ointment onto her right eye. She begins to see that small cottage for the beauty that it is, with hundreds of spriggans flying about. She finishes the visit acting normally as she can, but when she goes to the market she sees Tom thieving from some stalls. She confronts him, but he blows away the magic from her eye, as well as all vision within it. She cries out for someone to catch him, that he’s a thief, but the people around her call her crazy.

The final story in this book was Flying With The Faeries, from England. A boy, lost in the woods, is led by a bear to a small cottage. Two short and old ladies - faeries - welcome him in, giving him food and a bed to sleep in. At midnight, they wake, placing on white caps and shouting ‘Here’s off’, before flying off into the night. The boy quickly follows, and they find themselves in the wine cellar of a rich man. They drink his wine and become very drunk, but the boy falls asleep in the cellar. He’s confronted by the house staff he next morning, and, after going through trial, is sentenced to hang. At the execution, one of the old faery women approaches, asking him to wear a special white cap. The executioner thinks nothing of this, but as soon as the cap is on the boy’s head, they both cry ‘Here’s off’ and fly off. The faeries are annoyed at the boy for what he did, and he swears he’ll never do it again. Charmed by this, they forgive him and lead him home safely.

All of the stories in this book were so amazing. Of course, I know very little about faeries, elves and goblins, so this book was perfect for me, especially given that it’s about the British Isles!

I read through the notes section, which gives details about each story, where it’s from, how it varies in different places and also how many similar stories have happened to different people. Or perhaps how the stories begins or ends differently. In some places the stories leave out major plot points for minor details as it’s so well known in certain areas, such as the Tam Lin story in Scotland.

It was also nice to know that many stories do in fact come from the area that I live in (Herefordshire - please don’t stalk me!!) as there was a major writer on my area. Not Shakespeare level or anything, but this person noted down many tales from my area so that’s why they’re well-documented! It’s nice as well that I can learn about the faeries in my area and learn how to interact/avoid them if necessary, as I hope to research more into witchcraft and magick and practise the craft! This blog will remain a book blog though, so no worries dear followers. Unless you are a witch - please don’t unfollow!

Regardless, that’s the end of the book! It was so so nice to read! It was easy to just pick up and read a story or two if I have a few spare minutes, as opposed to having to read a chapter but have a running commentary of the plot so far going in my head. I find leaving a book too long means I forget the story so far, so it was nice that I could leave it for a week or so and still be able to enjoy reading it and fully relax with a couple stories - lighthearted or not.

I would definitely recommend this book, whether or not you’re a believer in faeries, whether or not you’re from the British Isles. It’s nice to get to know the country with these little stories which are about small villages in rural areas, as opposed to getting to know Britain through things like the Battle of 1066 or when parliament was formed or whatever.

If I were ever to have children, I reckon I would hold onto this for them. They’re little stories, many quite funny, but they’re not your normal princess story or faery story, so they’d make for a much more interesting bedtime.

- Gingerbread ♤

P.S I think I’ll be reading Macbeth next! But I might change my mind... so much to read!! Aargh!

P.P.S I’m going to keep saying this because it bears repeating: Stay safe!!! Wash your hands! Only go out if absolutely necessary and please limit the number of members from your household that do go out! The amount of cases in the UK is going up, as it is everywhere, so please please please stay inside and flatten the curve! The virus does not care who it infects, and has been proven to be deadly to even young and healthy people. Do not put yourself or anyone else at risk, please! Love to you all in these trying times x

[euphoriecs]

11/11/11 tag !!!

thank u sm for tagging me @yikescomma​, @buckaroowrites​ nd @yikeskimi​ !!!

rules: answer 11 questions, write your own 11, tag 11 people !

under the cut bc its a Lotta questions KSKSKSHK

yikescomma’s questions!!

1. what’s your favourite place to write?

oh this is ?? kind of a tough one bc i feel like i never Branched out in my spaces when it comes 2 being productive,, like a lot of my work is done in my bedroom just bc my desk is there and it’s the most convenient,,,, honestly im jus gonna say my favorite place to write would be from . my desk . bc it faces the window :-)

2. which character(s) from your wip(s) is your favourite?

since i only have wtsf confidently worked out ,, i’ll use those ocs !! but i think , quite Honestlie ,,, that wendy is my favorite character !! im rly in love with how she progresses as a person nd also she’s jsut . she gets it u know .

3. what are some inspirations for your wip(s)?

I TALKED ABT THIS BEFORE but b/ts’ hyyh series, my neighborhood, spring day by b/ts are a few inspirations for wtsf !!! 

4. how did you start writing?

my dad got me hooked on reading when i was really really young !! and being able to read abt all these huge worlds nd being given an opportunity 2 fall in love w them rly inspired me to want to write worlds of my own . plus , i watch a lot of different shows nd animes that feed into my daydreams nd sometimes im like ‘yo,,, that was a good daydream,,,,, time 2 story it’ .

5. which of your ocs is most difficult to write?

uHGHHGHGS ARTHUR ...... trying to capture this like . enigmatic feeling while keeping close 2 his reasons for acting That way is actually ,, rly hard?? hes a tough cookie 2 crack but i will crack it .

6. what aesthetic do you associate with your wip(s)?

for wtsf ,,, quiet towns , lonely beaches , sunset nd sunrise ,,, running through the streets ?? 

7. do you like planning?

YEA !! i see it more as like . being able to explore ur wip and what directions it can take nd its also jsut rly helpful to have a solid foundation .

8. what is your favourite quote from your wip(s)?

i pulled this from my drabbles but: “Slow down.” Wendy grabbed Arthur’s wrist, pulling him down to sit on the sand. “This world can’t keep up with you.”

9. do you like to listen to music while you write?

yes and no ?? im very particular to the kind of music im listening to nd more often than not, i write in complete silence ,,, but sometimes i’ll find a song that i feel rly fits the vibe of what im writing nd i just put it on repeat HGSHJK

10. what do you like most about your own writing?

i think i like the descriptive aspects of it ?? like how i describe places nd feelings ,,,, :-) !

11. what are/were/would be your ocs favourite subjects in school?

everyone except piper in wtsf is graduated from high school but ,, wendy liked english class the best bc it was fun nd she got good grades !! rafael definitely loved psychology nd took it at an ap level ,, arthur liked math nd chemistry .. chemistry he liked More bc he got 2 blow stuff up SKKSKSEH and piper likes world history!! tho shes not good at it . but she likes it!!

buckaroowrites’ questions!!

what is your favorite subgenre to write? to read?

i lov urban fantasy and low fantasy JGHDSHGJKS like its my favorite to write nd read bc like .. o heck ?? ghosts nd ghouls nd just overall supernatural stuff irl ?? that’s the way 2 go

if you had to be trapped on a desert island with any of your ocs, who would it be and why?

if i had 2 be trapped on a desert island ...... i’d probably choose rafael . honestlie he just seems like he always knows what’s up nd my chances of survival would increase w him JHGJKSJKS

what is your favorite medium to write?

definitely novels !! its a format i’ve pretty much grown up w and im more comfortable w this medium than any others GHSHJKS but i’d love to explore like ,, screenplays nd see where that takes me

who was your first oc?

HYLLY SHITTTT THIS BRINGS ME BACK SJHJHJGJKS i used to draw a lot back when i was younger nd so i had this oc JHJS his name was ian and he was meant for the maximum ride universe but he was a dumb dude who was 2% cat . nd he had an adopted sister ,, i forgot her name but she was part bird .

what was your first wip about?

world end club is supposed 2 be abt a group of teens who work together 2 take down a corporation that wants 2 essentially control the artificial island they live on thru engineered soldiers . ITS A CONCEPT ,, nd it requires a little Too Much for my one brain cell to think abt

thoughts on shakespeare?

uhhh no thots bc i never read his work in high school i jus know macbeth is cursed .... wow i rly dont know anything abt shakespeare huh .

poetry or prose?

o this is TOUGH i rly adore both .......... im gonna . im gonna go w prose . i lvoe poetry so much sometimes there are lines that just rly fucken punch u in the face but im gonna go w prose bc its familiar !!

would you ever co-write a story?

nO ..... i wouldnt b able 2 compromise i’d jus b like oH ACTUALLY SKSKKS MY IDEA’S DUMB LETS JUST DO URS 

write what you want to write or write what you want to read/watch?

oh . fuc .... i feel like its important to have a good balance of both but . honestlie im very partial to what i want to read/watch ..

do you like to write violence?

i dont Like 2 write it but its In My Wips !

what is your favorite trope?

oH ,, probably ‘fire forged friends’ or like . mutual pining ... i have too many favorite tropes nd somehow im gonna incorporate them all .

yikeskimi’s questions!!

Tell us about the main character(s) in your current WIP!

oKAY SO im gonna try to not make this too long SJKHJGS !! wendy is a very like . prickly character . shes like a cactus . nd she’s not too fond of letting ppl get close, but the ppl who do manage to get close to her are happie 2 learn she would actually die for them . loyalty is a Huge Huge part of her character, and she cares very deeply abt the people she calls family . shes also v sarcastic nd like . ‘open ur eyes dummy’ .

arthur is a kind of person who lives heavily on false pretenses . like he projects this image bc its an image that he can control nd he jsut Rolls w it , but hes actually someone who likes 2 tease his friends nd be friendly to them ,, hes got Issuez nd is very much the type of person to be like ‘o lol im ok :-)...’ nd prioritize the needs of others 

rafael is , in all honesty , just babey . he studied a lot during high school nd rly pushed himself beyond his limits bc he wants to be able 2 go 2 a good college on scholarship nd get a job 2 support his family , nd hes just ?? very responsible nd sweet but that can also manifest into him taking on more than he should nd burning out . 

piper is a very ,, honestlie kinda sad character kjHGJSJ she spends a lot of time just trying 2 appeal to other ppl bc she knows her interest in the supernatural make her a ‘weird’ person nd she wants to be able 2 have real friends ,, but when she learns 2 let go of this she’s very silly nd always making jokes During The Right time ..

Do you have an all time favorite OC? Tell us about them!

hMMMM i dont think i do ??? my memory of my ocs is rly bad JHSJ so more often than not i just ,, rip i dont remember them </3

If you could be best friends with one of your OCs, who would it be and why?

ms piper chaiyathan !!!! shes a very open nd kind individual nd i feel like our humor nd joking style would match V v v well !!!

Last line you’ve written in your WIP?

Wendy, unlike her brothers Adam and Nate, had inherited her father’s rough touch, and that made them both unwanted in the high stakes setting of a diner kitchen.

If you have a chosen title for your WIP, were there any titles you considered before it? And if not, what are some titles you’re thinking of?

when the sun falls went through SO many titles nd i actually have them all here: where the sun goes / fever dreams / above the sun / where the sun follows / the drowned sun ... as u can see the sun was smth i Needed .

What is an important element in the world your WIP takes place in?

uHHHH the supernatural element is . Very important but i cant be too specific about it but i will tell u it involves a dead tree on the beach .

Tell us an out of context spoiler.

arthur gets a cool new set of eyes.

Any power couples/ships in your WIP?

wendy nd arthur babey ,,,,,, bat nd molotov cocktail duo ,,,, last name central until the important moment nd THEN they use each other’s first names ..

Any music you like listening to while you write?

uHHHH specifically for wtsf i listen 2 a lot of hozier, lorde, conan gray, khalid nd halsey :-)

What would your main character(s) favorite song be?

oH okay i got this in the BAG ... wendy’s favorite song would Absolutely be work place by hozier or more than sorrow by a-lin ,,, arthur would definitely b listening 2 like . free spirit by khalid .. piper, since she p much spent all of middle school nd 2 years of high school in thailand ,, i think she’

Which character in your WIP could you relate to the most?

honestly? all of them !!! a lot of the characters in wtsf have little bits nd pieces of me bc thats how all my ocs come into existence nd theres no One character thats like “oh,,, das me”

and here are my 11 questions !!

Which one of your OCs do you think could survive a zombie apocalypse? Why?

What’s something you’ve been itching to write about?

Share the last paragraph you wrote!

Do you prefer coming up with plots or characters? Why?

Do you have any abandoned WIPs? Tell us about them!

What are some favorite themes/tropes to write about?

How do you get into the zone for writing?

Tell us a random fact for any of your OCs !!!

Are you someone who needs a visual for your WIPs?

What are some influences to your writing style?

If you had to be a character in one of your WIPs, which WIP would it be and what role would you play?

i’m gonna tag @babyreeds @holotones @alejandroistyping @noloumna @faerisms @omniawrites @aslanwrites @ashesconstellation @thegrievingyoung @glittcrpeach @syposium !!! no pressure to do it if u dont want to tho <3

[ravenqueensspecialboi]

Title: Baby Makes Three Pairing: DaiSuga Word count: 1378 Rating: G Trigger Warnings: N/A AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410430

Five months ago, Koushi and Daichi adopted a baby girl named Risa. Coming home from work one day, Koushi realizes that he has everything he could have ever wanted.

A pinch hit gift fic for @macbeth-macdeath as a part of @haikyuusecretsanta.  I hope you enjoy the fic!

Fic under the cut!

Leaving the library while the sun was just beginning to set was Koushi's favorite part of opening shifts. Sure, opening shifts meant that he had to leave the comfort of his home earlier than he'd like, but coming home at 5:30 meant that he had all evening to spend with his two favorite people on the planet: Daichi, and their adopted daughter, Risa.  

Having been high school sweethearts, then college sweethearts, then husbands, Daichi and Koushi had known that they wanted children for a long time.  They agreed that they wanted a girl, and that they wanted to adopt her young.  One day at the library, coworker and longtime friend Michimiya Yui had told Koushi about an old underclassman of theirs from Karasuno who was looking for a couple to adopt  her soon-to-be-born child.  

"Without being too nosy," Koushi had asked, "did she say why she was putting the baby up for adoption?"

"She and her husband decided that they weren't ready for a child," Yui had told him.  "They said that down the line they'll probably want kids, but right now's not the time."

When Koushi had told Daichi about it that night, Daichi had been enthusiastic about the prospect.  Daichi and Koushi had reached out to the underclassman and her husband, and arrangements to meet were made.  By the end of the meeting, the adoption papers were signed.  Baby Risa had been born on December 20th at a healthy 2.5 kilograms and with a small amount of black hair.  If pressed for the top five days of his life, seeing Risa in the hospital for the first time definitely ranked in Koushi's top two.  It was right up there with seeing Daichi walk down the aisle at their wedding in New Zealand.  A month later, the adoption papers finally went through and Risa came home with them. That day, there hadn't been a dry eye in sight.

Five months in, Risa had been fully integrated into their lives.  Daichi ended up taking paternity leave from the high school he worked at to be with Risa during the day.  He was taking the first year, and Koushi would take the second year until they could get Risa into a daycare.  It was a system that worked for them.  Koushi took on opening shifts at the library, so he would make breakfast for Daichi in the morning, then come home and cook dinner and take care of Risa at night. Daichi would watch Risa during the day, as well handle other chores around their house.  They would trade off who got up to take care of Risa during the night, which usually resulted in watching replays of the Japanese volleyball team's games and pointing out her Uncles Shouyou and Tobio whenever they appeared onscreen.  It was a good system, especially since Daichi was a natural with kids; having two siblings who were almost a decade younger had its benefits.  Nine times out of ten, he could get Risa to stop crying almost instantly.  Koushi would have been jealous if he hadn't mastered the ability to make her laugh at almost anything he did.

Koushi arrived home and pushed the door open with a quiet "I'm home".  To his surprise, he didn't hear a response from Daichi. Koushi kicked his shoes off at the genkan, leaving his bag near the door.  He made his way to the living room.  Just as he stepped inside, he froze.

Late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the windows of the living room, bathing everything in a gentle golden glow.  On the floor, Daichi sat with his back up against the couch and his head resting against the arm of the couch.  He was sound asleep.  Koushi's reading glasses sat lopsided on his face and a children's book rested on the floor next to him.  Daichi held a swaddled, sleeping Risa in his arms.  He must have been trying to get her to nap and managed to lull the both of them to sleep.   The sunlight hitting the back of Daichi's head illuminated him, making his hair look lighter than it usually did.  

The more Koushi watched his husband and their daughter, the more his heart swelled with love and adoration. It was a picture perfect scene, even if Daichi's mouth was gaping and he was snoring lightly.  Koushi snapped a quick picture on his phone before he crossed the room to his family.  He dropped to one knee next to Daichi.

"Dai, honey, wake up," Koushi whispered as he gently shook Daichi's shoulder.

Daichi let out a small snort as he jerked awake.  Koushi's glasses slipped off his face and bounced to the floor.  Koushi laughed under his breath as Daichi scooped the glasses up and placed them on the table.  Koushi sat down next to Daichi and leaned forward for a kiss.  Daichi obliged him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"I'm home," Koushi said.

"Welcome home," Daichi replied with a chuckle.  "When did you get back?"

"Just now.  How long have the two of you been asleep?

"What time is it?"

"About five-thirty."

"About forty-five minutes then," Daichi said.  "We were reading."

"I can see that," Koushi teased.

At that moment, Risa shifted in Daichi's arms.  She yawned, signaling that she was awake.

"Hello, Risa-chan," Koushi cooed as he lifted Risa out of Daichi's arms.  "Did you and Daddy have a good day?"

Risa blinked slowly, her soft brown eyes bleary with sleep.  Koushi pressed a kiss to her head as he rocked her back and forth.

"We did," Daichi said.  "She's been exceptionally well-behaved today."

"Is that so, Princess?" Koushi asked.  He wiggled his finger in front of Risa's face, earning a sleepy laugh from the baby.

"True story, she even ate some solid food today."

"She did?" Koushi exclaimed.  He held Risa up and grinned at her, "Risa-chan, I'm so proud of you!"

Risa, more awake now, let out a shrill giggle at being lifted.  Koushi cradled her against his chest, reveling in the moment.  Daichi wrapped his arm around Koushi's shoulder and pulled him in close.  They watched Risa as her giggles subsided and her eyes wandered around the room, finally landing on her play mat.  Koushi unwrapped her from her blanket, then shuffled on his knees over to her play mat. He set her down, then returned to his spot next to Daichi.

"They grow up so fast," Koushi sighed.  

"How young is too young for volleyball lessons?" Daichi asked.

Koushi let out a quiet snort as he pressed his shoulder against Daichi's.  It was a conversation they'd had a few times, but sometimes important conversations were worth having.

"Anything under the age of three, probably," Koushi said.  "But as soon as she can run, we're giving her a volleyball.

"She'll make a fine wing spiker one of these days," Daichi mused.

"Please, she's going to be a setter just like her father," Koushi scoffed.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Daichi said, getting to his feet with a stretch.

As Daichi wandered into the kitchen, Koushi shuffled back over to Risa.  He stretched out next to her and watched her reach for the toys dangling above her head.

"Just you wait," Koushi whispered to her, "your Uncle Tobio and I will make a setter out of you yet."

"If you're done brainwashing our daughter with setter propaganda, can you start dinner?" Daichi called from the kitchen.

Koushi rolled his eyes. He gave Risa's stomach a tickle and got to his feet.  He walked over to the kitchen, passing Daichi who was on his way back to the living room with a bottle for Risa.  Daichi caught Koushi by the waist, pulling him in for a quick kiss that Koushi happily returned.  They pulled back after a minute, and Koushi watched Daichi cross the room and scoop Risa up.  She babbled softly as Daichi held her close.  

A wave of utter adoration washed over Koushi.  Watching his two favorite people on the planet, Koushi realized that he had everything he could have wanted.  A wonderful husband, an adorable baby girl, and a lifetime to shower the two of them with love.  Koushi wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.

[cmcddp]

Prototype

I then did up a relevant prototype in sketches then went to Adobe InDesign to build on it and constructed it there. The first article was also written to go in the prototype. The full article was not put in the prototype so here it is attached below...

I used to watch Terminator 2: Judgment Day on repeat when I was younger, the action was immense. It blew me away (excuse the pun) and more than anything, it never got old, like… ever. Why did I keep coming back? Many reasons, but one of the main reasons being the character of Sarah Connor, a fictional character who is a beautiful, insane, muscle-flexing, one-handed shotgun-loading woman. I was a young boy idolizing a female action hero, what was this… I kept asking myself?

Sarah was the absolute embodiment of ordinary in 1984's The Terminator: a teenage waitress with a roommate and guy problems. She did a pretty poor job of hiding from the machine brought back from the future to destroy her, and she performed a whole lot of crying in the process. She was squeamish at the sheer sight of blood and always completely reliant on her time-traveling guardian, Reese, and was exactly what one would associate with the term damsel in distress. That is, until she destroyed the Terminator and drove off into the sunset at the very end. There was definitely character growth, but it wasn’t that subversive or even that empowering even if Cameron may disagree.

Despite the fact that The Terminator made it obvious that Sarah would one day become the hero responsible for her son's transformation into a great leader, there was no way to predict what the character would become. Never before had a cinematic heroine been as daring, grim, and unflinchingly focused as Sarah Connor in Terminator 2. Linda "Hamilton's Sarah Connor makes Thelma and Louise look like Ethel and Lucy," as Entertainment Weekly put it at the time. Since then, the closest we've gotten to her is Kill Bill's The Bride, and even she was softer. Yes… you read that right, Kill Bills the bride was softer.

Sarah Connor is especially targeted in The Terminator because of the child she will bear. But, without Reese to assist her face the impending catastrophe in T2, she is effectively forced to become him. She is now the stern and committed soldier. It's almost as if she's had a "unsex me" moment a la Lady Macbeth, changing herself into a human machine in order to combat the actual machines she knows are on their way.

Despite the fact that parenting is an important part of Sarah Connor's existence, she only mentions it once in the film, when she tells Skynet's Miles Dyson: "The hydrogen bomb was developed by men like you. You believe you're really inventive. You've never experienced what it's like to truly make anything; to produce a life; to feel it grow within you. You just know how to bring death and ruin into the world." Sarah, despite this, refuses to be defined by her role as a mother. Sarah Connor has almost totally abandoned the role, just as Lady Macbeth symbolically transformed her "mother's milk into deadly acid."

In T2, her son John is ten years old and already a dirt bike delinquent. Because an attempt to blow up Skynet's headquarters placed Sarah in a mental health facility, he is living with negligent foster parents. Her return to her son is hampered by her inability to control her fury within the hospital. She remains cold after her escape; when John leans in for an embrace, she just pats him down for injuries. Even when Arnold Schwarzenegger's machine recognizes John's tears, she completely ignores him when this rejection causes him to cry. When John speaks to her, she usually ignores him. John orders the terminator not to kill anyone, whereas Sarah couldn’t care less who dies. It is through these flaws, that her characterization really shines, she is not simply just a mere statement of feminism, but a flawed character who is empowered but still human in the fact that she has internal struggles, which she must confront within herself and overcome.­

In an age of studios being fearful of crafting female characters too flawed, they always end up falling short in making the character relatable, so coming back to watch this is always a breath of fresh air. It is in her flaws that make her so endearing, empowering and relatable. It’s okay to struggle, but passion, integrity and desire to overcome those struggles will always prevail as long as you have the desire and will-power to do so.

Another important aspect of Sarah's portrayal in the film is Cameron's adamant reluctance to depict her via the masculine perspective. In many instances, the director scans Schwarzenegger's entire physique from toe to head, yet it never happens to Hamilton. Sarah, on the other hand, remains combat-ready and make-up-free throughout. Cameron's decision to concentrate his blockbuster film on a woman without ever objectifying her was—and continues to be—a uncommon one in Hollywood, and the film benefits greatly from this as a result.

Hamilton described T2 as "a violent picture about peace" in an interview with Prevue magazine at the time. It's also a macho film about women, as well as a tech-focused film about mankind. Sarah Connor is able to go much beyond what women are normally allowed to be and do in action movies because of this backdrop of dichotomies.

Sarah Connor is, in the end, a testament to women's power and flexibility; a symbol of what women can and will accomplish when their survival—and that of their children—is endangered. She's a female soldier in a media where they're underrepresented. Her reappearance at a time when women's rights are under attack does not appear to be coincidental.

In an Interview in 1991, Hamilton stated "I know it's a foolish thing to say, But after T2, I don't think anything can hurt me."  It seems she's not alone, as Sarah Connor has been giving women (and men) a sense of indestructibility ever since.

[anightingalesang]

Dec 12, 2019

For this show you have: Nicolas Bruder as Macbeth, Tim Heck as Duncan, Adam Griffith as Malcolm, David Botana as Macduff, and Steven Apicello as Banquo - aka, a whole party of McKittrick alumni in the McKinnon.

Oh lord, they are really good.

I always wanted to see Tim Heck’s (Shanghai) Duncan as I liked his Macbeth and Porter in New York. This King is at the prime of his life, younger than many other Duncans we’ve seen, therefore appears much more ambitious, and cares much more about his power. 

He seems never really trust his son - I cannot remember any other Duncan acting that paranoid in the shaving scene. The tension in that scene actually made me unnecessarily nervous, as if they may really end up killing one another at some point.

The solo in the chapel and his reborn were also fantastic. I especially like how he was able to coordinate the lights into his narrative.

And for once, the reborned Duncan ran into his murderer on a narrow pathway. So for once, he came to the truth before he should be - that was a shocking moment.

And there was Steven’s Banquo. I ran into his fight with Nick’s Macbeth at the very start of my evening, and after this one scene I can barely leave him in the following loop. Their fight in the speakeasy bar is so real - as not only Macbeth want to kill Banquo so he would never tell the truth, this Banquo also sees the chance to make revenge on the murdered (but sadly fail).

Big yeses to Steven’s acting skills which makes the Banquo loop extra beautiful. Only recently I realized that how much context he was able to put into the building of a character - he must have worked really hard to dig deep into the somewhat loose setting of the show. Even the way he rang the alarm after discovering Duncan’s death let me think of something, and such enlightenment seemed rare thus precious for me these days.

Also, two swing ladies made my evening (again) - Eleonore was Lady Macduff and Yuli was Danvers.

Surprisingly I never watched Eleonore’s Lady Macduff when she was on regularly. Everything she brings out seemed new for me - her Lady Macduff is young, naive and lively. With David’s Macduff they made a lot of noise in the suite duet before the ballroom dance. They seemed really argue quite often - but after-all everything was OK, and they giggled with each other like two best friends, how lovely.

My heart was also filled with love seeing them doing moves of the ballroom party dance in the corner when hardly anyone in the party noticed them. Ha I do miss them as Macduff and Sexy Witch.

And her murder scene, I just can’t... Eleonore’s Lady Macduff had regret on having this child in previous scenes - I guess this child was unexpected for her - but for this moment, suddenly, this woman became so brave for her child.

Then David’s reaction when he found his wife’s body was one of the touchiest moment in the show for a long time. I was at the very first row of the audiences so the pain was too clear that it was hard to not shed a few tears.

And a Macduffs or Duncan loop will definitely get better with a great Danvers - luckily in this show we have Yuli in this role. She was one of the most sophisticated in this role, executing every evil act without the slightest hesitation - the uncrowned Queen in this space, I would say.

But in very few moments, when she was really into herself, you would know that the loneliness and unfulfilled desire was deep there in her mind.

I always love ending the show with Yuli. The Porter & Danvers finale seemed to me a secret act of witchcraft, and it was too clear who was playing the lead.

[gaymirajane]

Inside My Mind - A Commission for @auratw

HAPPY BIRTHDAYM, BEAUTIFUL!! At least, it definitely is here… I think you still have a few hours left, but I would have felt guilty if I didn’t get your gifts to you at midnight exactly!! 

Although you did technically commission this piece (in part, at least), it felt appropriate to post it on your birthday.

I love you, and I hope you enjoy this!!

Pairs: Erik x Meredy

Word Count: 3.5k

Plot: Meredy is a transgender woman, and Erik is overwhelmed with love for her.

**WARNINGS FOR IMPLIED GENDER DYSPHORIA**

At least two of these scenes are inspired by the Charlie/Jamie story in Khaos Komix. It’s a beautiful story that includes different ethnicity groups, classes, and various parts of the lgbt* community. I will link it here, as I highly recommend it to everyone. It’s written by a beautiful transgender man, and it’s so honest and raw, but means the absolute world to me. I hope if anyone does read the whole thing they come and message me!! I’ve never spoken to someone who has read it before ahhh!!

It was inevitable, when he thought about it, that he would hear things that he shouldn’t. Whether it be thoughts, memories, or dreams, the minds of people were littered with secrets, and Erik’s magic was unpredictable; sometimes he could hear everything that darted through a person’s head, and other times… nothing. Some people were hard to read, others might as well have said their thoughts out loud, the clarity and conviction was so strong. However, through the years Erik had found himself picking up pieces of information that he did not want to know – or rather, that should not have been his to know in the first place. His magic was how he knew that Jellal had a masochist streak, and also that Sorano helped to fulfil this particular need when everyone else was asleep and the earth was still. It was how he knew that Macbeth suffered from frightful nightmares that kept them both awake some nights, and that Richard had once had an intimate dream about a member of Lamia Scale that, on some occasions, his mind still revisited. Sawyer had a phobia of rats, Sorano – of all the things in Earthland – polystyrene. None of these facts had, to his knowledge, been spoken aloud.

And this, this was a nothing thing that he was not supposed to know.

“Are you keeping up with us, Erik?” Meredy’s voice and smile were as bright as usual, her feet bouncing from rock to rock as she turned to grin impishly at him. He was so lost in thought that he had fallen behind the group, something that happened more frequently than he would care to admit; it was hard to focus on moving when his energy was concentrated on separating the ideas in his own head from those in his guild.

He coughed, nodded, and slowly passed her by. He felt her confusion at his lack of response as a spike in her energy, a thin grey cloud that veiled her other thoughts. Erik ignored it, ignored her, and moved to stand next to Sorano. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, grinning slyly. He gritted his teeth; Sorano didn’t need magic to read people, after all.

“It’s not nice to ignore a girl, Erik. Especially not one as cute as Meredy.” Her tone was a playful, lazy drawl. There was not much that she took seriously.

“Whatever.” As clipped and flat as usual, but a response no less; Sorano seemed surprised she got that much. Erik could not tell exactly what she was thinking though, as each member of the former Oracion Seis had focused recently on creating a mental barrier between them and Erik’s magic. It was important now especially, as the nature of Crime Sorciere meant that they were spending almost all of their time together, and privacy was paramount. Or rather, non-existent, not when one of them was sometimes unintentionally invasive.  

It was getting colder the higher up the rocky slope they went, and Erik pulled the hood from his cloak over his ears, which were very sensitive to the changes in temperature. He put up his own barriers, not mental ones, but physical and emotional, and tried very hard not to register Sorano’s musical laughter, or how much it grated on his nerves.

~’*’~

It wasn’t intentional, he would swear on it, but Erik found himself watching Meredy far more closely after that day. He wasn’t particularly ashamed to admit that he was worried about her; the safety of his guild was always significant to him, even when they were one of the most powerful dark guilds in the country. He also did not know how far along her process she was, and he did not want her to get hurt over something so large, something so out of her control.

So he did the only thing he could so: he watched, and he listened, and he protected. At any sign that she might be in trouble, he was there by her side, supporting and defending. It was childish, as he knew that she was more than capable of taking him in a fight, never mind the half-witted criminals they were often pitted against. Even so, it was the principle, and if he could be there for her then he would be, although he felt very underprepared for this task. This was not an area that he was well versed in, or had ever given much thought to, and yet he wanted to try. One night they were sleeping a mile or so away from a village, and Macbeth – who was supposedly on guard that evening – had already fallen asleep (Erik was still amazed that Jellal had trusted him to do something as simple as staying awake; it wasn’t his known speciality, after all), and Erik found himself coming into that village and breaking into one of the new book stores there – old habits die hard, and it was the only way he would ever have access to this information. Being a known criminal limited the amount of time you could spend in public, and that often meant that daylight hours were spent hiding or travelling, not in book stores and libraries. Besides, Erik didn’t think he had a library card anyway, and he couldn’t afford any other member of his guild finding out what he was researching, as that would be unfair on Meredy.  

The information he found there shocked him, which it shouldn’t have, but he found himself staring at Meredy with new, curious eyes, noticing things that he had not given any thought to before. Such as the large cloak that she tied around her throat, and the way it hung around her body, drawing the attention not to the shape of her waist or the strength of her shoulders, but to the way it dragged down her back, catching on the floor and her curly pink hair.  

She was beautiful, that much was obvious, and no matter how much he read or learnt, he never saw her as any more or less than that; a beautiful woman, who brought light into their guild and laughter into his life. This, however, did not surprise him. He knew as soon as he heard this secret in Meredy’s mind that it would change nothing. He just never expected it to increase his protective nature over the younger girl, or make him more aware of her every waking second she hovered excitedly around him, or how much he enjoyed simply looking at her.  

Usually filled with the life of nature and the passion of the heavens, Meredy was often seen dancing, twirling, laughing, singing, making some kind of ruckus, drawing attention to herself in the most endearing way possible. But at night time, she stills. Her eyes glaze over as the fire light casts speckles of gold in her gaze, her lips part and mind drifts from thought to thought, nothing particularly substantial or solid, mostly just a misty recollection of what has happened in that day. It’s then that she looks the most beautiful to Erik; silent and thoughtful, she lacks the juvenile joy of life but makes up for it in a motionless charm that leaves Erik flushed and incoherent. He continues to watch her, hardly acknowledging that every member of his guild besides Jellal and Macbeth are focused on him. He’s still too focused on her.

It was then that she kisses him.

It was quick and shy and uncertain, not adjectives that Erik associated often with the young girl, but still the softness of her lips and the taste of peppermint on his tongue are things so indisputably Meredy that he finds himself floundering. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, not about his guild mate; not about her. It was almost a surprise, how little the others reacted. There was a cat call from Sorano, a wolf-whistle from Sawyer. From Jellal, a glare. Richard smiled sweetly, and Macbeth snorted, only half awake at this late stage in the evening.  

Three days later and they still had not spoken about it. Erik heard a haziness from behind, his ears twitching as they tried to tune in to the thoughts that buzzed between his team mates. It was like static – frantic and loud and encompassing. Desperate and filled with anxiety, Erik turned around in a panic, ready to face a new enemy when suddenly he felt a hand slip into his. Startled out of his apprehension, Erik almost flinched away. But then he saw the hurt, wide eyes that Meredy was trying to shield, and the way her bottom lip was worried between her teeth, and he relaxed into the contact.  

This was Meredy. This was safe. Except it wasn’t, not really, because every time his skin touched hers it was a reminder of everything he wanted from the girl – and everything he could not have. Was not prepared to take or give, ask for and be asked. His emotions were juxtapositions of each other, reflecting and bouncing back into his persons, making him tingle with excitement and anxiety when Meredy met his eyes and grinned. He never let anyone in, he never let himself feel unsafe. Not since the tower, not since his parents. Whatever he had with Meredy was dangerous, and Erik felt himself toeing a fearful line that he had not known had existed. She made him feel again.  

He had no idea where to go from there. Despite having the ability to read minds, Erik often struggled to grasp what was happening within his own being, which is why it came as such a surprise to him when he realised that he was in love with her. It shouldn’t have, of course, as every member of the guild had realised. Except Meredy, who it seemed was just as dense and emotionally naïve as Erik himself.  

Even Jellal had a better grip on romance than they did, and Erik had heard the mocking snorts of rumour about a Fairy Tail wizard from Sorano, and the broken, longing whispers of her name in the depths of Jellal’s mind. He was the last person Erik expected to be having this conversation with.

“I’m assuming you know all about Meredy’s… medical history?” Jellal was prodding the dozing fire with a charred piece of branch, the fire reflecting back the intensity of his gaze. Erik starts, gulps, and nods slowly, arms folding defensively and body leaning away from the fire, away from Jellal.

“We… haven’t really talked about it.” Erik answers honestly. Jellal looks up in surprise.

“She hasn’t spoken to you yet?” He sounds unsure, as if this entire conversation is a landmine that will implode in both of their faces. But Meredy would be the only casualty, and that thought had Erik proceeding with caution as well.  

He shrugs because, what else is there left to say? By the solid arch of Jellal’s eyebrows, and the way his body leans back, head tipped towards the night sky and hands clasped together, Erik knows that any more words would just be an excess.  

Jellal sighs, breath sounding loud enough to ruffle the trees around them, and reaches behind him. There’s a book in his hand, the brown leather making it seem weighted with authority that Erik knew it had; he had read it at least twice, after all.

“When Meredy first told me about herself, she gave me this book to read.” He offered it to Erik, who thumbed the edge bashfully. “I hope it serves you well.”  

An animal moves in the bushes, and Erik sits up straighter, straining, waiting for another member of the guild to come and find them, disturb whatever this was between them. He was relieved when no familiar scents followed the sound, and allowed himself to cough softly, passing the book back to Jellal.

“I’ve already read this one.” He murmurs, mind so lost in his own thoughts and the sounds of the forest that he could no longer tell how loud he was being.  

A shift happens then, and Erik gets the sense that Jellal is looking at him and actually seeing him for the first time. His gaze is intense, searching, and whatever he needs to see he invariably finds in the soft redness of Erik’s ears, and the quick fire inhales and exhales of breath.  

In a movement far too quick for the serene peace of night, Jellal stands and wipes imaginary dirt from his clothes.  

“Okay, I guess it’s none of my business.” He states and drifts away, back into his tent; back into his thoughts. Erik feels them then, a slightly unnatural shade of green, like pin pricks all over his flesh. Jellal was confused, concerned, and only barely concealing his thoughts. Erik felt nauseous along with his guild master.  

He doesn’t sleep that night.

~’*’~

Erik hardly notices the seasons change, when the bite on his earlobe became the sun’s soft kiss, and then reverts back to a chill that had him tugging the hood back over his ears. How was he supposed to notice the difference between brisk winds and a summer breeze when Meredy was always so warm, so ready to share her light? Erik basked in it.  

He thought little of his conversation with Jellal, assuming the only reason Meredy had failed to bring up such a personal topic was because she knew that he knew already; she must know, giving his particular type of magic, and how comfortable they were being in proximity with one another. Jellal never mentions anything again, and neither does Erik.  

Time passes still, and Erik is… content. Happy, even; two things he did not think he ever would be again. Did not deserve to be, not after the atrocities he committed under the heady influence of power.  

He should have known that it would not last.

“Erik… can we talk? Privately. Away from the others.”  

Meredy’s voice was quiet, and she never made an attempt to meet his concerned gaze. This was it, the moment he should have expected but dared not consider; the end. It made more sense to him than Meredy wanting to be with him in the first place, but still he wanted to cling to her, to the hope that they could build a future together. For the first time in his life, Erik wanted a future with someone.  

And she didn’t feel the same way.

He nods, stands, and stalks away after her. Not noting an arsenal of fallen branches, Erik stumbles. Meredy reaches out to catch him, but then flinches away. He tries not to show the hurt on his face. He knows that he does not manage it.

Instead, Erik listens. He focuses on the thoughts inside Meredy’s mind, trying to hear what she is thinking so that he can respond appropriately. He will not make this harder for her; she already seemed broken, with ruddy cheeks contrasting the chalky pallor of her complexion, and eyes wide, damp, and darkened underneath to a bruising shade of purple. Her thoughts were like shards of glass; shrapnel of ideas, words, and concepts, but completely transparent. Erik could only see through them, see Meredy and the way her fingers knot in her un-brushed hair. He could not grasp them directly, only observe brief, fleeting points.

“I’m so sorry.” Meredy starts, but begins to sob so loudly and earnestly that, for a moment, Erik forgets the situation and embraces her. She falls into him, bends around him, crumbles her head into the nape of his neck and her arms around his waist. Meredy only allows herself the contact for a second before she pulls away, furiously scrubbing her eyes. The wind feels harsher without her warmth pressing into him. Erik folds his arms around his chest, waiting for Meredy to continue. He sees no point in comforting her further; her demeanour has hardened, and her tears have tried. Erik swallows loudly.

“This,’ Meredy gestures between the two of them, vaguely enough to not detail what specific aspect of their relationship that she is referring to, but it’s still enough for Erik to understand, ‘isn’t fair. I can’t keep on doing this to you. Or me.”  

She takes a long shaky breath, lip shivering so hard Erik worries that her whole body will crumble under the force of it, and he won’t be able to hold her together anymore. Even with the nostalgic pain and fresh disappointment, Erik finds himself nodding along to whatever Meredy is suggesting, ready for a fall so hard he won’t be able to brace himself.

“I don’t think that I’m lying, because I’m a girl, and you’ve always known me as one, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s still so much you don’t know and I know I should have told you before now because you deserve to know, should have known way before I kissed you, but I’ve been so selfish and – fuck I don’t know how to do anything other than take and take and take. I’m sorry, Erik. You deserve so much better.”

A branch crunches nearby, the wing ruffles the trees into a state of confusion, and Erik’s sense of logical thought escapes him. Meredy never swore – Erik wasn’t even sure she knew how – and to hear such a strong word tumble desperately from her pouting, chapped lips was enough to make Erik lose all sense of normality.  

He only caught the end of what Meredy continued to say.

“-and like I said, I am a girl, but I used to be seen as a boy and you really should have been told before now and I’m so sorry-”

“Wait… that’s what this is about?” Erik gapes at Meredy, who stares back with just a disorientated, unsure manner that Erik can’t help but laugh.

Meredy’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand what’s funny here.” She says.  

He grins in relief. “I thought you were breaking up with me, but the truth is… I’ve known about your gender identity since before we got together.”  

A silence passes again, and Erik is perturbed when it feels just as thick as it did before. He’s still smiling when Meredy’s hand connects with his cheek.  

“You idiot!” Meredy starts beating on his chest, a soft pink hue emanating from her as her magic starts to overflow. He grabs her wrists to still her, but she struggles against him until he begins to speak.

“I thought you would talk about it when you were ready, but I assumed that it would be obvious that I knew, and didn’t want to pressure you; it never mattered to me, anyway.”  

Meredy glares up at him, her cheeks puffed out, lips swollen. “Why would it be obvious that you knew? Because it’s obvious that on my birth certificate, it doesn’t say female?”

He releases her wrists and smooths back her hair. She doesn’t flinch away this time, but her expression is still hard.

“No, sweetheart. My magic sometimes puts me inside people’s heads, and I learn things that I know I shouldn’t have learnt. You know I can’t always control that, Meredy.”  

It only takes a few moments for Meredy to register this, and then she falls into him, limbs flailing wildly as she grips and pulls and clings in anyway that she can. Erik reciprocates, holding her tight enough to feel the way her shoulders slump and rise as she cries.  

“So you don’t hate me then?” She sniffs.

Erik cups her face softly, his one good eye marvelling at how beautiful she is.

“I love you, Meredy.”  

When their lips touch, her mouth is bitter with tears but sweet with the strawberry lip balm that she always uses. He relishes in it, in how unbelievably Meredy it is and how much he craves it. She pulls away after a moment and rests their foreheads together. Erik’s mind wanders, and he registers Jellal’s presence. Without hesitation, Erik reaches out to him, not in words, but in golden, shimmering light. Jellal must understand, because Erik hears the branches snap under his footing as he heads back to camp.

Inside Meredy’s mind, everything is white, like freshly cleaned linen, or the first flecks of snow. It’s pure, it’s cleansed, and it’s stunning. Erik’s only wish is that Meredy could stay like that for the rest of her life, with few worries and more dreams than Erik could ever listen to.  

She takes him hand, as bashful as the first time she did it, and guides him back to her tent, as she did most nights to sleep. Not for the first time, or the last, Erik is overwhelmed with love for the incredibly brave and utterly breath-taking woman that he gets to spend the rest of his days with. He squeezes her palm, she smiles sweetly at him, and he falls in love again.  

[archivesdiveronarpg]

Congratulations, MADZ! You’ve been accepted for the role of MACBETH (with a faceclaim change of Tom Ellis). Madz, you have no idea how happy I am to entrust Macbeth into your hands once more. You give him this darkness that drips off of him so subtly it makes me sigh a bit because I’m not entirely sure whether I want to feel bad for him or cheer him on in his duplicitous endeavors. The way that you capture his voice, his tragic spiral, and his all-too-devilish charm is something that I’ve always loved and now I have the pleasure of watching it in action again. Welcome back into the family, my dear! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

                                                                             WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Madz

Age | 20 years young, my dudes.

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | I should be around a decent amount, probably about a ⅚ because… well, school.

Timezone | EST

In Character

Character | Macbeth; Mikael Falco (fc change to Tom Ellis perhaps ;-) )

What drew you to this character? | I wanna play a bad guy. Honestly it’s as simple as that for me at this point, I want to play a bad guy. Mikael Falco is what people consider a bad guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s necessarily a great bad guy. Sure he walks the walk and most certainly talks the talk, but deep down, there’s something in him that restrains him from really unleashing the full extent of power that we want to see in a bad guy. That something is obedience. The trait that was ingrained in him as a child in boarding school, something he now cannot stand. It will be his downfall, the very thing that will inevitably bring him to his knees, and he knows it. Mikael’s  been trying to overcome this deadly habit, but with such a strong desire for power and his willingness to prove himself to the Capulets (though not without his own power hungry agenda), his progression towards independence is slow and rather unsteady. Though his obedience at one time had been blind, he’s now beginning to use it against anyone who stands in his way. A true con man, Mikael’s ability to lie in the face of those superior to him has gotten him far. But it’s not far enough for the man who was meant for greatness. He wants the crown to rest upon his head and his alone, and he’s not afraid to do anything it takes to get it. His bad guy image isn’t helped by the fact that he’s completely whipped by his devil of a wife. He’d always dreamed of dancing with the Devil, but he hadn’t pictured the Devil stepping on his toes and getting in his way. But she has this sick, twisted power over him, one that chokes him tighter than his extremely well-tailored Armani suits, one that he initially loved but has quickly turned to despise.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

Of course I cannot wait to plot out Lucrecia and Mikael’s relationship. I think for what it is, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are one of the best duos in literature. Their relationship is complex and it’s dark and it’s dirty and all the things I love to see from killer couples. I hope that Mikael could break the chains from which he’s weighed down.

So I think a really fun plot would just be his descent into madness. I think this was probably my favorite aspect of Macbeth’s story when I originally read it, and I think it’s a central part to his character that’s going to be fun to expand on. He’s got inner demons that he battles day in and day out, and I think writing a character who is so determined to get power but is also held back his struggle with himself is going to be interesting.

And lastly I think his struggle with his position in the mob would probably be one of the main plots I’d develop while writing him, because the Devil isn’t placated unless he’s calling the shots himself and doesn’t have to answer to the so-called “Gods.” Mikael has been trying so diligently to prove himself to the Capulets, doing anything and everything they ask of him, killing anyone who could possibly get in their way in attempts to show himself worthy of a better position. And I feel like Mikael will definitely be plotting different ways to achieve this higher status, through whatever means he deems necessary. ESPECIALLY WITH THE SPADES NOW IM SURE HE’S GONNA TALK WITH THEM AND TRY TO MOVE HIS WAY UP THRU THEM IDK BUT IM EXCITED

In Depth

The following THREE questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would were you playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona?

Mikael could all but hold back his laughter as he sat against the cool metal chair, legs spread distinctly as to exude an air of power. “You call this an interrogation?” He remarked snidely, rubbing his thumb and index finger along his sharp jawline. In all the years he’d been working for the Capulets, Mikael Falco had his fair share of visits to this all too familiar interrogation room. The walls were grey, water dripped from a corner where a dark black circle seemed to expand twice its size each time he’d returned, and there was only a metal table barricading him from the other enemy – the law. He’d spent enough time running from the Montagues that it only aggravated him more when they managed to catch onto his business affairs. And with the wound still healing from the murder of Alvise, many were pointing fingers at Mikael, who hadn’t decided if he was going to use this as an opportunity or shut the rumor mill down. “Everyone knows how I adore The Tempest,” He replied finally, after spending some time analyzing the unfamiliar face scribbling notes before him. “I hear they’ve even taken to engraving my initials into the table I frequent, which of course I said was unnecessary but completely welcome.” He ended this statement with a charming smile, one he’d been perfecting for years, one that satiated any uneasy feelings anyone might of had when interacting with him.

What does your typical day look like?

“First, I’d wake up, and reach over to my wife who I haven’t fucked in ages, hoping to spark any kind of flame that lingered from our younger years, only to be shot down with a shrug of her shoulder when I managed to touch her skin. Then, defeated, I’d get up and get ready, making sure my suit was in perfect condition and everything about my appearance was pristine. The Capulets expect an appearance of superiority, because we are superior. Then, I’d mumble some sort of goodbye to Lucrecia who’d ignore me, leaving my confidence at a low, but that’s besides the point. I’d make my way over to the cathedral, able to smell the irony of our headquarters practically miles. There are no Gods in Verona, not yet at least.” Not until I take over. “Assignments for the day are posted routinely at 8 a.m., and I’m usually less than satisfied by my orders to patrol the shipping docks we use to smuggle our weaponry, but I’d head there with whomever else I’ve been assigned to work with. We’d make all the right small talk, and I’d be lucky if I left work any type of happy. On a good day, I’d be assigned something better, something more… exhilarating. It’s the little tastes of pleasure like getting to off another Montague solider that make me rest easy at night, though I know I can do more. It’s just a matter of time until everyone will witness the extent of my power, and then they’ll either give me the power I deserve, or I’ll pry it from their limp fingers. Then I’d make my way over to The Tempest, where I’d drink my troubles away while listening to some young woman with wide eyes and naive dreams talk to me about God knows what, before returning home. Lucrecia might be there, or not. I’ve come to expect her absence. I’d climb into bed in my drunken haze, and drift off into a slumber.”

“It doesn’t look like much,” He replied, almost too easily. He wasn’t stupid enough to give him any sort of information, not even a white lie was safe in the hands of the law. “I do my job, just like you.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Mikael’s intrigue was spiked by this question, the first that pertained to the very being of who he was, and he sat up almost instinctively. From the outside, the feud between the Capulets and Montagues seemed to be about nothing more than territory and old family rivalries, fickle matters with which Mikael rarely found himself concerned with. Sure, the territory each family claimed for their own indicated a sense of power, but Mikael knew that the real power came from within, and he wasn’t one to get too involved with the affairs of the families from which he didn’t spawn.

“Someone once asked, “War, what is it good for?” and then proceeded to answer “nothing.” Mikael stopped speaking for a moment to laugh quietly before fixing his posture and returning to his calm demeanor. “I pity the fool who believes that sentiment, for war is but a necessary evil for those who desire to conquer. And I… Well I desire nothing less.”

In-Character Para Sample: From the moment he was born, Mikael gravitated towards grandeur in all things he did. The Falco insignia was adorned in gold and blood, though it had not always been this way, as those who had come before him shed blood, sweat, and tears in their efforts to build an empire from the ground up while oppressive forces tried to hold them down.

Tugging tightly on the cuffs of his tailored suit, Mikael carried himself proudly through the streets of Verona, a silk crimson handkerchief peaking out slightly from his front pocket. There was a certain determination in his step as he walked, an image of no particular significance to those who did not know the man. To the untrained eye, he looked just like any other wealthy and power hungry man, but for those who learned to fear the man’s unique tune he whistled as he walked into back alleys, this wasn’t a leisurely walk. Mikael had a destination, a target rather, that he was headed to, one that hadn’t been officially assigned to him.

His lips were pursed tightly and he begun to whistle his tune, shoving his right hand into his pocket, sliding it over the cool metal of his knife. His fingers skimmed over the serrated edges of the blade and made their way to the elegantly carved golden handle. It was his favorite weapon, the one with which he had the most practice with and the one that made a name for himself.

Mikael arrived at a corner and turned it quickly, giving himself but a fleeting moment to glance at the man who was about thirty paces behind him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been followed, and it surely wasn’t going to be the last. Mikael knew that killing him would be clumsy, and that wasn’t his business. But he wanted to send a message, something he was particularly fond of. Sparing people wasn’t something he did often, but he instilled a fear equivalent to the fear of God in those whom he chose to spare, always able to make an impression.

There was a gap between two equally beautiful buildings, and Mikael turned quickly into it while he was certain the man following him hadn’t seen him. He waited against the cool exterior of the building, hand still resting on his knife, the other one flexed open. Hearing shuffled footsteps approaching slowly, Mikael readied himself. The footsteps came closer, and began to slow, and without a moment’s notice, Mikael reached his left arm out from the alley and pulled the man into it by the collar. His grip was tight, and the man grunted as he was thrust harshly into the wall. “I understand you’ve been sent to follow me,” He said in a hauntingly calm demeanor. It took him a moment to notice the man he had in his hand wasn’t much of a man at all, and was more of a boy. Typical Montague behavior. The young boy shook his head in fear, obviously new to the job, and he squirmed underneath Mikael’s grip before he tightened it. “Stop fidgeting, boy.” He spat, looking over his shoulder to make sure that no one was able to see this interaction take place.

“I’m going to give you one try, and I want you to be honest with me, do you understand?” The boy gulped in fear, and nodded his head after a moment of deliberation. “Great. Who sent you?” His question was concise and straight to the point, games were for children and Mikael found himself relatively tired of the games people liked to play. “I’m not going to ask you again,” He threatened, raising his voice and drawing his blade from his pocket. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to have to use this on you,” He said, raising the blade to the boy’s eye level, which he noticed changed the boy’s attitude. “M-M-Matth–” “Matthias. Of course. Now, I want you to tell Matthias that I’m tired of his games, I’m tired of his tactics, and frankly I’m tired of this feud he has with me. Make it very clear to him that the next time he sends someone after me, this knife,” taking this time to slide the cool blade gently across the boy’s cheek, leaving a small nick at his jawline, “Will do more than leave a scratch.”

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here!

[sassyhazelowl]

I decided in the interest of moving the story at a faster clip and uniformity to keep the chapters of similar length (~1k). I tried to expand this chapter a bit but it didn’t flow quite right. Whenever I finish, it will probably compiled into a single story. Jellal comes back in next chapter, along with Erza, but in the meantime enjoy some Erik.

Secrets Underneath

Part One

Part Two

"Are you sure you weren't spaced out and staring at his di--"

Sorano rolled her eyes as she cut her roommate off rudely, "If you can, I can, and that has nothing to do with this! Juvia SAID Jellal, and just how many Jellals do you think there are exactly? It's not a fucking common name like Sarah or Dave or whatever people name their brats."

Erik shrugged, knowing his given name was quite common, and snipped just to be a pain, "Okay, but it's been years and years... why now? And why the hell would HE be in your shitty department store?"

"You work there too, you know," Sorano snapped back, reminded how utterly prickly he could be when he didn't want to talk about something. This was SERIOUS and he was probably only thinking about banging his girlfriend or boyfriend or whoever the hell he was dating at the moment! Sorano wasn't playing around here; if there was a threat, she was going to move and take Yukino with her. 

After the two had been reunited, the older sister had sworn to protect her younger sister with her life, and with Yukino's delicate health, she had to be tough and decisive. Yeah, her baby sister would be sad to break it up with her crush (that she thought Sorano didn’t know about, HA! It’d only took three minutes to corner Rogue and convince him to spill his wussy guts) and to leave her job (which she seemed to like even if she sucked at it), but you did what you had to. Life was tough like that.

"Mall security," Erik reminded her loftily, as if that were any better in the minimum wage pit they all wallowed in, but a thoughtful look had stolen over his features and he was rubbing his chin slowly. 

Maybe he was starting to take things seriously! 

This was a crisis, and Sorano already had her fill of them as a teenager when she was young and stupid and had nothing to lose. 

Erik took a deep breath, near-violet eyes locking onto hers steadily and smirk wiped from his face, "Go get more information. He's connected to this Juvia chick, right? And he didn't recognize you or else we'd know about it by now, right? I’ll call MacBeth and get a hold of Sawyer, but I’m not gonna rile them without proof. Could be the wrong guy, or hell, maybe he decided to retire or go torture some other sick fucks."

"Haha..." But there wasn't too much bite to the sarcastic laugh she forced out nor an acknowledgement of the sick fucks comment. 

Her mind was digesting Erik's words, slowly simmering down as practical thoughts filtered in and smacked down the panicked ones that'd been zooming around on a crash course since her shift. Retirement was unlikely but replacement pawns seemed his style. Or maybe the man she’d met earlier was simply a guy with a lingerie fetish that happened to share a name with her own personal boogeyman.

Fate seemed to have it out for her like that.

Oh hell, she'd not only forgotten to tell the managers about Juvia, but she'd left as well. Well, bye-bye job for both of them. Getting info from her co-worker was going to be damn hard if she inadvertently gotten the cheerful little chick fired. Shit. Eh, maybe it was Juvia's first write up -- employees got 3 per year after all before insta-termination. She did seem like a bit of a suck-up, so maybe the managers would do some voodoo junk and wave it away. Sorano, on the other hand, was charcoal she was so fired, great sales or no.

A big, calloused hand waved in her face, jerking her attention back to the smug and smirking asshole before her, probably reading her face again like the perceptive jerk he was, "Look, what was Angel's specialty?"

Cheeks puffed with irritation at the reminder and a small flinch at hearing her codename out loud for the first time in a long while, she ground out, "Espionage."

"Tch, big word for a little woman. Do your spy-thing and I’ll do my thing and we’ll nail this lickety-split, right?" She easily ducked the hand coming down to mess up her hair and returned fire with a swift open palmed swat to his shoulder. The resulting wrestling match ended with her hair destroyed and his arm slung around her as she leaned into his wiry, strong frame trustingly. The two of them had been the original members, and even though the others were close, there was a special bond between them, deeper than blood and stronger than steel. This sort of hug would be awkward with anyone else, detestibly so, and Sorano sometimes still had trouble when Yukino offered, but with Erik it was just a natural thing. Even if he did stink and sometimes had two snakes on his person, only one being in his pants.

As she shoved out of his embrace with a mock-huff, she mentally started to list what needed to be done.

Sorano had some quick calls to make to Juvia and work, and then… then Angel also had a few calls to make as well. It wouldn’t be pretty, and it wouldn’t be nice, and Yukino could never know because she PROMISED Angel had gone to heaven for good after she’d been released from prison the last time. And Yukino may never forgive her for this...

Uggh, her job though.

What a clusterfuck.

Getting a job as a felon was near-impossible regardless of the type of felony, and she’d been lucky to score such a cushy and boring job that didn’t involve digging ditches or collecting trash. Okay, job THEN Juvia. If she played this right, and if by some grace, definitely not God’s, this Jellal thing was a harmless mistake, she could keep her currently shitty but tolerable life intact and operable. If he wasn’t a harmless mistake, well, there was only one solution for that… and Sorano lamented the fact that there were no cute ways to carry and hide a Glock.

[popradar]

Women Directors Bring the Fear and Frights at Etheria 2018

Rachel Talalay and Lori Petty at last week’s Etheria 2018 showcase | Image: Robert Ortega/Getty Images 

Last Saturday (June 16) in Hollywood, Etheria Film Night 2018, the annual showcase screening of genre films directed by women, treated audiences to 10 short films, from sci-fi to horror and a few laughs in between scares. 

Co-presented by the American Cinematheque and held at the Egyptian Theatre, Pop Radar LA was surprised that the fifth installment of mini-film festival didn’t draw a completely sold-out house to support these women and their work, considering we’re in the middle of a “me too” revolution in the entertainment industry. 

We wished more people could have heard the introductions from actor Lori Petty and director John Waters (via video) who helped honor director Rachel Talalay (Tank Girl, Dr. Who) with Etheria’s annual Inspiration Award. Talalay’s rousing speech before the screening encouraged women filmmakers to break down barriers by continuing to do good work.

“I'm constantly exasperated that my gender is even a topic of discussion,” Talalay said. "We’re on the cusp now, and I want you, all of you, to use genre as a voice to get under their skins, make your statements, tell your stories, break down their walls, and kick down that glass ceiling.”

While the audience and jury award went to the film, "Laboratory Conditions," starring Minnie Driver and Marisa Tomei, any number of the films could have easily taken home the prizes. Directed by director Jocelyn Stamat, the short film definitely led the pack in star power, and the premise was definitely interesting: capturing the human soul at the moment of death. 

A few of our favorite films from Etheria 2018:

The Drop In | Production still

The Drop In: Directed by Naledi Jackson, this action/thriller focuses on a hairdresser’s hard day when a walk-in client asks for a quick adjustment for her braids. Too bad the mystery customer turns out to be a woman from the hairdresser’s past, and the drop-in’s on a mission. The martial arts fight scenes between the two were kick-ass. 

Creswick: Directed by Natalie James, this creepy Australian film was filled with chills and surprises when a daughter returns to help her dad clear out her childhood things. Her fears of growing up in the home resurface as her elderly father claims he feels another presence in the house.

C U Later Tuesday | Production still

C U Later Tuesday: This dark comedy, directed by Anca Vlasan, is a rom-com that involves a woman accidentally falling in love—with a guy in a basement cult. It was a nice take on the meet-cute, despite a bald cap that looked, well, like a bald cap and not a shaved head. 

And we enjoyed these two completely different films, not only for the quality of the storytelling, but also for the fact that they used women on the other side of 30 as their leads:

Instinct: Maria Arida’s psycho-sexual thriller involves dangerous performance art and a lonely gallery owner who meets a younger, seductive artist. 

Lady M: The fantasy by Tammy Riley Smith follows an aging actress at auditions for The Scottish Play. As a starlet, she wowed audiences with her portrayal of Lady Macbeth, now in her 50s, the director will only consider her for a role as one of the witches. But no one should underestimate a woman who’s been in the business for awhile—plus a little black magic doesn’t hurt her cause either. 

During the awards ceremony, the inaugural 2018 Stephanie Rothman Fellowship was awarded to USC student Lizz Marshall for her script What Daphne Saw. The new award honors young women making their first feature. 

[kyukurator-blog]

DEFINITELY NOT DOWNTON ABBEY

For years now we’ve been suckers for costume drama (cue 1729 trumpet “Fanfare-Rondeau” by Moret –the Masterpiece Classic theme).  P&P, Sense & Sensibility, and yes, the endlessly foamy Downton.

But when somebody comes along with a wicked new twist on period drama, we love it even more.

  LADY MACBETH (2016)

Not Shakespeare – this is based on “Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk” a novella by Dostoevsky contemporary Andrei Leskov.

Boris, a nasty but rich old man, buys young Katherine as a wife for his equally nasty son, Alexander, who lives at home.  On their wedding night Alexander reveals that he is both kinky and impotent.  Plus, they won’t let her leave the house.

But when father and son both leave town on business (bad idea) Katherine gets out and falls into passion with a stable hand named Sebastian.  The affair opens up depths of  passion and dark resolve in the heretofore meek Katherine; before long she has disposed of both the father and the son.    The film is reportedly a breakout for Florence Pugh (Catherine).  It’s also notable for breaking with costume drama conventions and casting of black actors in both the roles of Sebastian and Katherine’s maid.

    WUTHERING HEIGHTS (2011)

Casting an unknown black actor in the “Caribbean” role once occupied by Laurence Olivier and Ralph Fiennes is only one of the breaks with convention that make Andrea Arnold’s Wuthering Heights worth watching.  There are also the Heath, which is both less inviting and more

Arnold has won the Cannes Jury Award three times for pointedly contemporary stories.  Here she worked to strip away the buffer of literary awe and invent a sort of proto-Wuthering Heights.  Her Heath is a brutal place, but teeming with life – we see a microscopic child’s eye view of the bugs and undergrowth.  The connection between the young Cathy and Heathcliffe is primal and childlike too — it knows no other way and no other world.

Very exciting and freshening.  Maybe the movie begins to take its mission to re-invent too seriously, throwing in a few too many “fucks”, “cunts” and off-kilter angles.  You still come away with the feeling that you’ve seen a vision of the book that makes you want to read it again.

If you loved the 1939 classic, you may hate this.  But we do and didn’t.

        THE DRAUGHTSMAN’S CONTRACT (1991)

 In many ways the opposite of Arnold’s film, Greenaway’s first feature imposes a surreal formalism and arch eroticism on a period that happens to be ideally suited to such an approach.

Set in 1694, the contract of the title is a commission from a rich wife to draw her absent husband’s country estate in meticulous detail – the specialty of the handsome and cocky draughtsman.

But there’s a rider to the contract.  In addition to room, board, and a small payment, the draughtsman gets to enjoy the lady’s favors whenever he desires.  After a token protestation the lady says yes.

The film is as methodical and meticulous as the draughtsman – but peppered with tiny anachronisms and incongruities.   After a while the stilted dialogue and measured pace begin to wear you down.

But then the (also married) daughter points out that tiny clues are creeping into the rigidly composed scene, and suggests that the draughtsman may be being set up as a patsy for the absent father’s murder.  She blackmails the draughtsman – by demanding the same intimate favors that he requires from her mother.

     ANGELS AND INSECTS (1991)

This baroque delight was directed by sculptor Philip Haas and based on an A.S. Byatt novel. It seemed wonderfully perverse when it came out, but we just watched the trailer again and it comes off as so comically overwrought that now we need to revisit the film itself.

Roger Ebert (who liked it a lot) said it was the “dark underbelly of a Merchant-Ivory film”.

Yes, but — in an odd way, not really that dark.  What’s delightful about the film is that it takes the insect behaviors that entomologist William (Mark Rylance) has spent years studying in the Amazon, and overlays them on the hothouse manners of the aristocratic Victorian family of his patron.  Everything is brilliantly colored yet emotionally detached – until it’s punctuated by frenzied passion.

Which is exactly how blindingly blonde Eugenia Alabaster (Patsy Kensit) behaves toward William after she has astonished him by accepting his proposal.

But like Wuthering Heights it’s the brother you have to watch out for.  Douglas Henshall is Edgar Alabaster, as blond as his sister and enraged that a brunette Scotsman – penniless to boot – should lay fingers on her.  Kristen Scott Thomas is wonderful as the mousy maid whose drawings of ants eventually catch William’s eye.

  A YOUNG DOCTOR’S NOTEBOOK (2012-13)

We’re still waiting for an English-language version of Mikhail Bulgakov’s posthumous delight Master and Margarita (it’s been optioned!) but in the meantime there’s this semi-autobiographical series based on the author’s short stories.

It’s a dark, dark comedy, with Daniel Radcliffe playing a young doctor graduates from med school in 1917.  It’s the middle of the Russian Revolution and he lands in one of the most backward parts of Siberia, where superstition is more credible than science and practice of the medical arts require a strong arm and an even stronger stomach.

John Hamm plays the older, wiser doctor who is not just looking back on his youth, but actually interacting with his younger self – even as he’s desperately clinging to his profession despite a rampaging addiction to  morphine.

It’s a short series, two seasons of 4 episodes each, shot on a shoestring by UK’s Sky Arts.  It’s uneven, but the draw here is the stars, especially Hamm, and a chance to get another glimpse inside Bulgakov’s mind.

  CRIMSON PEAK (2015) 

As you would expect from Guillermo del Torro, this spooky romance out-gothics the gothics.

The movie starts in Buffalo, New York with Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowski) receiving a visit from her dead mother, with a warning “Beware Crimson Peak”.

Fourteen years later, Edith falls for British baronet Sir Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston) and despite warnings from her father goes to England to live with him and his sister Lucille (Jessica Chastain) in the family home, which is perched above a red clay mine.

When Edith’s father and childhood friend Alan (Charlie Hunnam) discover that Sharpe has been married and widowed three times before, Alan travels to England to save her.  By this time, Edith is seeing red ghosts and coughing up blood.  It’s then that Sharpe tells her the mansion is sometimes called Crimson Peak.

The movie is good, dark fun, brimming with dark symbolism, horror movie tropes, doomed romance, and allusions to previous gothic novelists and filmmakers.

                              DEFINITELY NOT DOWNTON ABBEY was originally published on FollowTheThread