#ill do like a camera pan whatever later

[wavetapper]

shes done... my first blender model

[tiixij]

looking at later assignments to see if theres anything i should go ahead and start thinking about and end up just worrying prematurely instead

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 2

 -you dislike frank dillane’s portrayal of tom riddle only because you don’t think he’s attractive-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION (and this time, featuring a bit of armchair child psych from a student).

Wait, don’t clutch your pearls just yet. Compose yourself.

I am about to explain why it’s not actually that bad, and Dillane’s portrayal is vastly underappreciated.

I definitely agree that his portrayal comes off as ‘creepier’. It’s not helped by the stylistic decisions in the scene -- the smeary, green filter gives the scene a sinister quality. 

Even Slughorn looks suspect here, which is somewhat appropriate, given that he is complicit in this crime. 

Again, this scene is very much intended to be slightly off.

You’ll notice (and I’ll discuss this again when I talk about Coulson’s portrayal) that Dillane is almost always shot from at least slightly below, which makes the lower third of his face look bigger (and thus more menacing). The lighting also makes his eyes glow in a really unnatural way. There’s an echo-y effect to make his voice (and not Slughorn’s) sound unnerving.

People talk about how Coulson would have looked in this scene, and if he was filmed in the same way (monotone, smeary/shadowy filter, and always from below), he’d look a bit creepy, too.

But all of this, imo, is for a pretty good reason. Slughorn isn’t the POV character. Harry is. Harry is learning about how a young Lord Voldemort wheedled the secret of Horcruxes out of an unsuspecting teacher. Unlike in COS, he expects Riddle to be evil. And, so, Harry’s new perception of Tom Riddle literally colors how we perceive him.

Take this shot, for example: he does that head-tilt thing that Coulson does, and it’s actually... kind of... cute???

Imagine Dillane filmed from slightly above, like Coulson usually is, and it looks even more innocent. (I mean, come on, he does not look like he’s killed four people, does he?) It’s not hard to imagine teachers being taken in by this kind of act.

Even that little smirk he does when the camera (aka, Harry’s gaze) pans in, is for Harry’s benefit. No one else noticed that. 

However, I still fail to find this creepy, like, at all. Yes, it’s a fake smile, but he’s portraying a different side of Tom Riddle to Coulson. Whereas, in COS, he’s in his vindictive, murderous element, where he’s free to express himself, in this scene, Tom Riddle is doing what he does best -- manipulating and managing appearances. 

This entire scene is an act. And because Harry knows it’s an act, it should look a bit stilted. 

From the Hepzibah Smith scene in the books: Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

So, Harry is pretty adept at parsing Tom’s fake expressions.

But just look at the expressiveness in his face: he goes from brooding, he blinks, and his entire face changes to this charming (fake) smile. 

At the risk of sounding elitist, I’m a bit tired of seeing the word ‘psychopath’, which is not an actual medical diagnosis recognised by any psychological or psychiatric institution, being tossed about, especially with reference to Tom Riddle (and from a neuroscience perspective, it’s doubly annoying). There’s no such thing as ‘insanity’ or ‘psychopathy’ or being ‘crazy.’

-although I use it too a shorthand in conversation to distinguish ‘canon’ Tom from his ‘softer’ OOC counterparts, I really shouldn’t-

Unfortunately, I’ve seen the ‘psychopath’ comment used time-and-time again as an excuse or a full explanation of ‘why Tom Riddle went evil’ (JKR in fact, has made a weird comment in an interview, basically saying that ‘psychopaths can’t be redeemed or learn adaptive coping skills’ or whatever), which really just goes to show the lack of understanding and compassion when personality disorders, especially, are concerned.

But what I like most about the opening of this scene, actually, is that first, listless expression. And this is where we get slightly into headcanon, but Tom Riddle is the opposite of a happy, mentally healthy teenager. By Dumbledore’s own admission, he has no real friends. He has no parental figures, no real attachments. Yes, he might derive some pride or enjoyment from being good at magic and top of his class and all that, but I really don’t think even Tom finds that truly fulfilling. There is nothing that makes him happy. 

In fact, although some might perceive it as ‘creepy’, I think that listless expression is an accurate window into Tom’s psyche. 

I know people aren’t big on Freud, but I think that he does make some interesting points (also, cut the guy some slack for being relatively open-minded for the Victorian Era, and inventing psychoanalysis and while yes he did say some sexist stuff, good luck finding a field of science that isn’t male-focused and makes crazy generalizations about women, especially back in the day) about the possible origins of thanatophobia, the fear of death.

According to Freud, thanatophobia is a disguise for a deeper source of concern -- he did not believe that people were capable of conceptualizing their own death to that extent. Instead, he believed that this phobia was caused by unresolved childhood conflicts that the sufferer cannot come to terms with or express emotion towards.

Now, I know Freud almost always attributes mental distress to childhood experiences, but I think in this case, it really has some merit.

According to attachment theory, the basis of how we form attachments in adulthood is dictated by learning it from experiences with caregivers in the first two years of life. We know Tom was born in an orphanage, and that he didn’t cry much as a baby, and subsequently, probably received very little attention. Compounded with possible genetic factors and his caregivers being afraid or wary of his magical abilities, he later struggled to form attachments because of this -- I would actually go so far as to say that by the time Dumbledore meets him, Tom Riddle is severely depressed. 

And that flat affect and anhedonia, I think, comes over very well in Dillane’s portrayal. There’s kind of this resignation -- a very deep sadness and loneliness to his character.

Of course, he doesn’t derive any comfort or fulfillment from human interaction, because (to borrow the description from the Wikipedia article on ‘Reactive attachment disorder’, which Tom meets all the criteria for) he has a “grossly disturbed internal working model of relationships.” In other words, he is unresponsive to all offers of attachment because of this unacknowledged trauma.

(You could arguably class Tom as having an avoidant attachment style, but I think in his case the trauma and its effect on him are severe enough to call it disordered.)

RAD isn’t particularly well-characterized (especially neurologically) and quite new in the literature, but here are some links if anyone is interested in doing a bit of digging: Link 1 | Link 2 | Paper 1 | Paper 2

And, instead of trying to resolve this conflict in a healthy way, or at least recognize that this is why he can’t be happy and try to learn how to cope from there, he (a) represses the desire for human attachment and (b) funnels that negative emotion into being the fault of Death, the Grim Reaper (again, to borrow Freudian terms). 

And we all know how that turned out...

(And now, this should go without saying, but psychoanalyzing fictional characters has nothing to do with assigning a morality to mental disorders. Mental illness is neither a cause nor an excuse for criminal behavior -- in the same way that the cycle of violence is a phenomenon, not an excuse. Tom Riddle did not become a genocidal murderer because, in common parlance, he was a ‘psychopath’ -- he was not necessarily ‘predisposed’ to evil and could just as easily chosen to not follow the path that he did -- instead, he willingly made poor choices. This is a descriptive analysis, not a justification -- a ‘how’, not a ‘why’)

Here’s a Carl Jung quote that articulates it better:

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

Yes, he’s a bit stiff (and a lot more formal than in COS during his *conversation* with Harry). But, and here comes the controversial bit, this is appropriate for a portrayal of a schoolboy in the 1940s. The upright posture is accurate -- respectful, polite -- everything Tom Riddle would have been expected to be (and even Coulson, in that scene with Dumbledore in COS, is quite stiff). Even the way he looks at Slughorn and maintains eye contact is very *respectful.*

And, Dillane (I think he’s seventeen or eighteen here) actually looks like a believable sixteen-year-old. I’m sorry, I love Coulson’s portrayal as well, but he looks around nineteen in COS; so in HBP, he probably would have looked at least twenty-two or so. (Sorry, not sorry).

This may be influenced by my own interpretation of the character (because I imagine Tom always looks young for his age, and Dillane fits that archetype, but I don’t think that’s very popular), but I think young Tom Riddle is supposed to be *cute* and a bit stiff/shy/awkward (being charming and awkward is very much possible), if you consider the way Dippet and Slughorn treat him. 

To support this, he says very few words to Hepzibah Smith (in the book, that scene’s not in the movie), and is very... bashful and coy during the whole interaction? I think yes, he’s charismatic, but he’s not loud, suave, openly flirtatious or particularly verbose. Tom Riddle should have a quiet magnetism, and to me, that came across in Dillane’s portrayal.

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

...

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. "Yes, I'm very well. ..."

Even the ‘ugly, greedy look’ described in the books, when Slughorn starts spilling his secrets, is there. This is how he’s supposed to look! Slughorn glimpses it, but doesn’t understand its significance. Harry does. 

“Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.”

Remember the context of this moment, as well: He’s just discovered how to create multiple Horcruxes. Excuse him for looking a bit creepy (if not now, then when?).

Here’s two direct quotes of Harry’s impression of Tom Riddle in that scene: 

“But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.”

“Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human. . . .”

Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes are a direct metaphor for his refusal to allow himself to heal from his trauma -- instead, he continues to inflict destruction on himself and others.

His desire to continue creating more Horcruxes sort of resounds with the fact that self-harm can also become a compulsion.

I’d also like to digress a bit to discuss the Gaunt Ring, while we’re at it. While we’ve talked about his attachment issues in general, this discussion is particularly pertinent to father figures. And while Tom’s attachment issues are extensive, I think there’s ample evidence that as a child, he craved acknowledgement and acceptance from a father figure -- the man who gave him the only thing Tom truly owned -- his name. He would have had a vaguely defined mother figure in Mrs. Cole, perhaps.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was.... He didn’t like magic, my father ... He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage ... but I vowed to find him ... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name ... Tom Riddle. ..."

We know that by June of 1943 (COS flashback) Tom has already uncovered the truth of his parentage; he knows he is the Heir of Slytherin via the Gaunt line, and he describes himself to Dippet as ‘Half-blood, sir. Witch mother, Muggle father.’

In Part 1, I discussed the high probability that as a presumed ‘Mudblood’, Tom Riddle was treated rather poorly in Slytherin House. But by this scene in the fall of 1943, he is surrounded by a group of adoring hangers-on. Why?

In my opinion; the Gaunt Ring. We know that Tom stopped wearing it after school, so its sentimental value couldn’t have been that great. We know he likes to collect objects (which I believe stems from his attachment issues -- he seeks comfort in things instead of other people).

Signet rings (such as the one belonging to Tutankhamun seen above) were used to stamp legal documents and such, in order to certify someone’s identify -- like an e-certificate, if you will. Like Tutankhamun’s ring, the Gaunt Ring bears an identifying symbol -- Marvolo Gaunt tells us proudly that it bears the Peverell family crest.

By the Middle Ages, anyone of influence, including the nobility, wore a signet ring. Rings in antiquity were auspicious -- they signified power, legitimacy, and authority. And so, I believe that all the Sacred Twenty-Eight families would have worn these, too.

And so, bearing the Gaunt Ring would have established Tom Riddle, symbolically and in the eyes of the Sacred Twenty-Eight (his future supporters and followers), as the legitimate heir to the House of Gaunt. This is why, I believe, Tom coveted the ring as soon as he saw it -- not just because it was a family heirloom, and not just because he thought it was a pretty toy for his collection.

(He curses it so that no one else but him can wear the Gaunt Ring safely.)

This is why, to make the legitimization literal as well as symbolic, Tom murders his father and grandparents. It’s not just an act of vindictive, murderous rage due to his perception of being rejected by his father (although it is that, too). And so, Tom, abandoning his search for a father figure (and possibly also giving up on the possibility to allow himself to heal from his own personal trauma rather than continue to inflict it on others), ‘cleanses’ his bloodline, to make himself truly legitimate. It’s rather telling that instead of affirming his legitimacy as a Riddle, which would have put him in line for a nice inheritance, and hey -- money is money -- (thus accepting his half-blood status), he simply kills them all. He has done all the murdering he needs to become immortal (and he hasn’t had the discussion about multiple Horcruxes yet); but yet, he does it again. Frightening stuff. 

(Just look how the others look at Tom. All but the one to his left -- possibly Nott, Rosier, or Mulciber -- have their torsos turned towards him. Their attention is on him, while he knowingly regards the viewer/Harry. Tom seems a little uncomfortable with the attention.).

“And there were the half-dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger.”

...

“Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.”

...

“Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.”

The ‘gang’ are true hangers-on; Tom doesn’t seem to pay them much attention. 

So, if not via careful flattery or charisma, the attraction must be status.

And perhaps yet more telling...

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing." “A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.”

That, in my opinion, is as good as we’re going to get as proof that Tom’s shiny new signet ring (and by extension, his new status) made a big impression on his fellow students.

So, when he returns to Hogwarts, he is ‘pureblood’. He is cleansed of his Muggle roots, and becomes the legitimate heir of the House of Gaunt, now well on his way to becoming Lord Voldemort...

Watch the scene again, with a critical eye, and imagine Slughorn’s perspective, instead of Harry’s. There’s nothing creepy about Tom Riddle... unless you know what he is...

Strip away all the effects of Harry’s gaze (and notice, here he’s still looking at Harry), and he’s quite the charmer, actually.

(I will concede that I don’t like the promotional images where they have him looking like he’s up to no good. And I do wish he blinked once in a while.)

My challenge to you: Rewatch the scene with an open mind, and let me know if you agree that Dillane’s portrayal comes off as depressive rather than ‘creepy.’ And if not, why do you dislike his portrayal?

[princessjungeun]

Never Be Yours: Olivia Hye x Reader

haven’t been on in a long time. but uh no this is not a request...just a 2:30 am thought that turned into a scenario. 

your alarm went off at 9:00 pm, pulling you from a deep sleep. you sat up and rubbed your eyes, groaning when you remembered what your alarm was actually for, work.

you and and your best friend decided as a joke to apply to be night bakers at a bakery not too far from both of your houses. at first you two didn’t think you’d get hired, after all you had no baking experience. however, the owner of the bakery was desperate and you two were the only applicants. 

the shift started at 10 pm and ended at 6 am, leaving the rest of the day for you and hyejoo to sleep. originally the two of you planned to just hang around each other’s houses all summer, however this job cancelled those plans very quickly. 

the one perk about the job was that there was no uniform like the day employees had. the two of you could show up in literal pajamas and get away with it, after all the two of you were the only ones there. 

you pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, it was cold and rainy this evening and you weren’t planning on getting sick. as quickly and quietly as you could you got ready, not wanting to disturb your parents and older brother who were winding down for the evening. 

“sweetheart be careful driving okay? have a good shift and i’ll see you in a few hours.” your mom waved you off, handing you your “lunch” and the car keys as you headed out the door. 

hyejoo’s house was only a three minute drive up the street, most nights she’d walk over despite you begging for her to wait for you to come get her. your heart bloomed the second hyejoo walked outside, locking the door to her house before walking to the car. you onced her over as she walked, looking at her phone, completely unaware of your eyes on her. 

her glasses sat on top of her face, slightly sliding down. despite her absolutely hating them, you loved them more than anything. she often asked if she should put in contacts but you told her no, there was no point if it was just the two of you working. she agreed, not realizing it was because you loved the way her glasses perfectly framed her face. you smiled when you saw she was wearing one of your hoodies, it was a size and a half too big on her so it hung lower and covered her hands completely. 

she opened the door and plopped down in the passenger side, “what’s with the smile?” 

you replied, putting the car and reverse and backing out, “just happy to be getting the money. thinking of what i can buy with it.” 

hyejoo responded, “same, i think i wanna save for some clothes and maybe new shoes...my converse are on the verge of calling apart.” 

the drive was silent, she looked at her phone as she slowly dozed in and out of sleep. the combination of the moving car, rain falling outside, and the heat on, made for perfect sleeping conditions. 

when you pulled in front of the bakery you noticed she was completely knocked out. her head resting on the head rest, lips slightly parted and her cheeks a little more swollen than usual. you looked at her in fondness, she was without a doubt one of the most precious people you’ve ever seen. 

you playfully poked her cheek, waking her up as she smacked your finger away from her face. she mumbled grumpily, “hey...” 

she unlocked the door and got the key to open the bakery doors, she slipped in, holding the door for you and then locked it behind her. 

you took off your hoodie and put on your apron, a kuromi one to be exact, hyejoo did the same, slipping her matching my melody apron over her head. your parents gifted you both matching aprons as a gift for getting your first summer jobs. 

while you washed your hands and put on your hair net, hyejoo preheated the ovens, fumbling with the buttons until she hit the right ones. you watched from afar as she moved to the sink, tying her hair into a high ponytail, tucking her baby hairs behind her ears. 

you noticed the small rainbow earring she had, something small she bought herself after coming to terms with her sexuality a while back. when she came out to you, well to be honest you weren’t surprised. it was expected, you could tell from the day you met her that she wasn’t straight. she knew as well but pushed it away for years, but eventually she came to terms with it and dropped subtle hints here and there that she wasn’t straight. 

as your shift began, the two of you baked the normal breads and pastries, trying your best not to burn yourselves...or the goods. hyejoo played music from her phone, one of the many playlists she had made after realizing baking in silence isn’t that motivating. 

you watched her from across the kitchen, the way she hummed and sang softly to herself, clearly in her own world. it was moments like these that you realized how perfect hyejoo was in your eyes. 

everything about your best friend you were in love with, they way she smiled softly when she cracked an egg and didn’t get shell in. the way that her brows furrowed when she tried to remember the difference between the baking soda and baking powder. how she would always look at you with puppy eyes to put things in the oven because she was afraid she’d burn herself. everything about hyejoo was perfect and you were in love with all of her. 

as hyejoo kneaded some bread dough she turned to you and asked, “how long am i supposed to let this rise for?” 

you told her, “an hour....also you have a little something- here let me.” 

you walked over to her and dipped your finger in some flour before tapping her cheeks and nose, “there.” 

she gasped, “hey!” 

you laughed, holding yourself up against the counter as she tried to pull bread dough off of her hands so she could hit you. however before she could, you were already wiping the flour off her face. 

your eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips so quickly she didn’t even catch it. she laughed, “this is like one of those cheesy teen romance movies.”

you agreed, pretending that it was cringy, however deep inside you wished that you could stay this close to her forever. your hand rested on her waist as you wiped off the last of the flour, quickly she slipped from your embrace, “thanks y/n.” 

trying to shake the thoughts from your head you replied, “of course hye.” 

the two of you worked your shift as usual, baking, goofing off, taking a lunch break, and then getting back to work. more times than you can count you were lost in thought about how much you adored her, often asking her to repeat whatever she said because you didn’t catch any of it. 

at the end of your shift you helped hyejoo organize all of the baked goods before heading to the sinks to wash the last of the pans and bowls that were used. your best friend scrubbed a pan next to you, her face blank as she focused on cleaning up. you looked at her, once again reminding yourself how head over heels in love with her you were. 

you both slipped off your aprons off at the end, hyejoo struggling to get hers untied because she tied her knot too tight in the back earlier. she asked, “can you help me?” 

you nodded and stepped behind her, getting the tight knot out of the two ties. before you pulled them completely loose, you hesitated before back hugging her and kissing her temple. it wasn’t unusual for you to give her hugs and kisses, you were a very affectionate person, at least when it came to hyejoo. she was only clingy with you when you weren’t around others. 

most times she would swat your head away, groaning about how gross and sappy you were. however she accepted it, casually grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. you felt heat flood your ears at her simple action, thankfully you were behind her so she couldn’t notice. 

the two of you hung up your aprons before putting your hoodies back on and grabbing your phones and your keys. hyejoo locked up the bakery doors as you started the car, doing a little job to the car to escape the rain when she was finished. 

you drove home, the sun starting to emerge from the horizon. she asked, “wanna come over to my place now? you’ll end up there later anyways.” 

you nodded, handing her your phone so that she could text your mom while you drove. she pointed out your lockscreen, “ewwww why do you have this picture of me?” 

she groaned at the picture you saved, it was a candid of her eating soup at a restaurant. you loved that picture, it was the one when you truly realized how in love you were with her. you told her, “shush you look cute, just text my mom.” 

she texted your mom then put your phone back, deciding that she wouldn’t fill your camera roll with a bunch of ill angled selfies that only showed her forehead and eyes. 

you pulled into her driveway and she got out, opening her front door and holding it open for you. you followed her inside and kicked your shoes off, trying to be as quiet as you could because her family was sleeping. 

she waited for you to take a shower, getting her bed ready so the two of you could just go to sleep right away. you changed them flopped onto her bed, letting her know the bathroom was finally free. she showered and came back, her hair slightly blow dried but still a little damp. 

hyejoo stood over you as you laid on her bed, “move over more.” 

you scooted slightly, moving your arm indicating that you wanted her to lay between them. she sighed, caving because she was extremely tired and she just wanted sleep. you smiled when she crawled into your arms, loving the feeling of her this close. 

to be honest hyejoo liked being wrapped in your embrace, she found that you feel very comforting. 

you looked at hyejoo sound asleep against you, your heart beating slightly faster than usual because of how close she was to you. her hand slipped between yours making your heart flutter even more. 

of course hyejoo only thought of you as a best friend and nothing more. she’d jokingly talked about how gross it would be if you two dated. you always laughed along and pretended to agree, but deep down you wished she thought of you the way you saw her. 

you glanced at your hands, seeing them interlocked you sighed as you wished they meant something else. it was just another painful reminder that no matter how close you got to hyejoo, or how in love you were with her, she would never be yours.

[abbydramarambles]

The REAL Ending CLOY

This is my headcanon and you can’t tell me otherwise. The epilogue in Switzerland is set a few years after the events of that piano concert. They have already found a way to be together more permanently. To me the house doesn’t seem like a vacation house, it seems like a home home. 

There is that photo of Se-ri on the bridge, not something one would frame for themselves. RJH definitely lives there. Check out the north Korean coffee kettle and other souvenirs as well. This is the sort of stuff one would have in their home.

The only thing holding RJH to North Korean is his parents, the fact that they could be killed if he were to defect. After they die, he has no reason to stay. We’ve already been shown that he is resourceful and would know exactly how to get out. Not to mention that everything in north Korean runs on money, if you have connections like Se-ri and RJH do....anything is possible. And to me these two people with all their power, well they would find a way.

Dan’s mother travels out of the country a lot as well for business. I think the 2 weeks is the longest trip Se-ri takes while RJH’s parents are alive. It’s not the only trip of the year. I doubt her employees would be saying “you’re going to Switzerland again??” if it was a once a year sort of deal they wouldn’t think she had a man. They even say “it’s lasting a while this time”. Come on who in the world would think it’s a relationship if their boss goes to switzerland for 2 weeks a year. It’s her favorite 2 weeks of the year because of it being uninterrupted time. 

Well with her wealth and his determination, and connections via his family, I'm sure they'll find a way eventually, either it is his parents passing away (since it has been about 6 years between him going back to NK and the epilogue meetup), or him somehow getting a long term mentoring position at Switzerland. You’re telling me Dan’s mom a department store owner can swing to Europe anytime, and Se-ri who created a whole scholarship for her man can’t swing something in collaboration with Papa Ri?

I got the impression the student performing his song on stage was a full-time student in Switzerland. RJH is not studying abroad but is teaching NK scholarship winners. Seri has been traveling back and forth a lot but these two weeks are the longest continual time they have together. 

When Seri first sees him in Switzerland she asks how dangerous his journey was, and he didn’t answer, just said he got on the wrong train but reached his destination. “Destination” implies a final location to me, not just a two-week stay. For two people who find it torturous to be apart for even a moment, destination would not have been thrown around like that. It could’ve taken his Dad some time to manage the politics to make a permanent teaching position with the National Symphony. He did see his son cry in the car after leaving her. That man is powerful, the 3rd most powerful man in North Korean. A political manipulation genius, a man always one step ahead of the others. He got his son and 5 people in and out of South Korea. You best believe he can make it happen. He’s not going to sit back and leave his only son living without his only dream. Plus RJH was never a flag waving patriotic North Korean anyway. He already expressed that he wanted to stay with SeRi in South Korea, have a child that looks just like her. It’s kdrama script writing 101 to not have your lead character mention a deep desire such as this one unless its foreshadowing or serves a larger purpose. And Park Ji Eun is no noob writer. 

Let’s look at the way the show itself references fate and destiny. Regardless of how impossible it may seem, these two always managed to find each other again. Fate is pushing them together and is on their side. I don’t think fate wants them to meet 2 weeks a year. Fate didn’t make them meet in Switzerland, in North Korea, in South Korea, and in Switzerland again for 2 weeks a year for the rest of their lives. I can’t entertain that.  A lot of people think that the epilogue on the hill and when she meets him for the first time again in Switzerland with the parachute are the same time frame. I don’t think so. I really do think the piano concert is the ending and the picnic is the epilogue. It’s years from then, when everything has been sorted about how to be together permanently and it’s a window in to happy every after. Just look at their body language and expressions in the last scene, they are totally at peace and seem to have gotten everything they wanted. Even the music radiates peace. Listen to the lyrics of Sigriswil that play as the camera pans out “wandering this strange night, won’t you be here by me? now I hold your hands, with you I’ll be alright...how does it feel, my friend? It’s been a long day and night” THEY ARE NO LONGER WANDERING ALONE THAT IS THE POINT. period. It was a “long day and night, but now I hold your hand” ... how does it finally feel to have your happy ever after....my friend. IT REEKS OF OPTIMISM and closure. In film making the atmosphere says everything about what is unsaid in the script. 

You best believe he won’t leave a stone unturned to be with her, see her grow old and live in the house of dreams with their twins. Just the fact that he vocalized this thought in the show leads me to believe that it did indeed happen. 

Believe in what the show is telling us to believe. What it’s showing us, not telling us even. That love will always find a way. 

Cloy’s ending also reminds me of  very heavily of (spoiler) that of “my love from the stars”. It was written by Park Ji-eun, the same writer as CLOY. So yes they are forced to be apart in that show too, but he finds his way back and each time they meet its for longer and longer and its implied that one day it will be forever. If an alien could find a wormhole to make it back to his love interest, north korea isn’t looking too bad. Same thing with her other star crossed lovers show “legend of the blue sea”. The mermaid finds him again against all odds and they live happily ever (plus a baby). Hey I’m just saying that the precedent has been set on how this seperation works through our writers own works. Having seen all of Park Ji Eun I know exactly how she structures her endings. It’s almost always the same. The mermaid made it back, the alien made it back...north korea is where we draw the line? They’re only apart for awhile till they figure it out, and they work hard to do so.

Whatever this image is from TVN left it unaired. They shot something they had to pull back. My crack theory brain says she looks a bit pregnant. Actually, that ain’t even a crack theory, I stand behind it. Son yejin is so slim, and judging by the material of the dress it just wouldn’t fall like that unless they were trying to make her look pregnant. Like LISTEN, just LISTEN to me. They put in the effort to get the actors in these outfits we have never seen before, they even gave seri flowers...whY?? There are no other purely promo shots that didn’t have footage attached. The only ones I can think of are the ones they took in front of a greenscreen for the photoframes inside their house. THIS WAS A REAL SCENE THAT WAS DELETED.  South Korean dramas pre-film certain scenes (like the swiss ones) and live film the others to make slight changes to the storyline based on audience reaction. During airing there was quite a lot of political backlash a la north korea. 

There are some stills TVN released that weren’t screencaps. But ALL of them were in outfits relating to scenes we have seen, such as this one.  It just would make no sense for them to go out of there way to get this image on the jam packed expensive swiss schedule and not just do greenscreen in korea like they did for all the other promo material UNLESS it was a real scene. 

So you want more evidence for plot points that indicated the original, unaired, together forever in Switzerland ending?

Let’s look at some details, at one point in Episode 14 when Jeong Hyeok's father is meeting with the bad guy Senior Colonel who tries to use photos of Jeong Hyeok in Korea as a bargaining chip, he says "You should retire quietly. Using your health as an excuse won't raise any suspicions." now whilst this may be a casual reference to him being old and that health issues are plausible, it's also possible Jeong Hyeok's father has had some long term illness they've not mentioned which would add to why it wouldn't raise suspicions.

The main reason I thought of this is it would sort of line up with some other details, in the finale when they're deciding whether to send them back or not, at the NIS briefing they mention how the North has requested keeping it quiet and confidential, they mention "They want the confidentiality term to be five years. They're being sensitive about it because one of them is a high-ranking officers son". Then if we fast forward toward the end when Se-ri is receiving the timed messages, a year passes after her birthday message from Jeong Hyeok, after that scene we see Jeong Hyeok having his farewell meal with the townspeople and preparing to leave after being accepted as a pianist for the National Symphony Orchestra, presumably around the same time as Se-ris birthday given that scene was right before. Se-ri then comes up with her Switzerland Music academy idea probably a few weeks or month or so after she read RJH's text about meeting and then it tells as it's one year later, Se-ri waits but doesn't meet him and returns home, her mum says "It breaks my heart to see you return in disappointment every time" which if that's a correct translation it means it's been more than once by this point. Add up this entire timeline....guess what it comes out to. FIVE YEARS. That’s how long it takes them to sort out a permanent solution for their problem.

When he chooses to defect it will be much easier for him considering he’s making trips to Switzerland already. All he would have to do is walk into a South Korean embassy in Zurich. They have an open door policy for North Koreans, he doesn’t even need to cross the DMZ again. 

You want even MORE proof? Okay my friend, I’ll bite. Why are there photos of a couple with children?? Honestly come on I really don’t have to say more.

They had to leave the ending open. Due to the political situation, they couldn’t exactly show RJH, a North Korean, defecting. Pretty sure our buddy Kim Jong-un would not be chill with that.  However ridiculous it is, the show had multiple attacks on it while it was running by political parties saying it violated the “national security act”.

The ending was clearly cleverly re-edited to be less explicit so the viewer can read between the lines but the show-runners can protect themselves from lawsuits and public sentiment regarding a sort of maybe illegal situation. If you believe they met for two weeks a year for the rest of their lives, you don’t know RiRi Ri-eally well ;) 

[throwaninkpot]

Notes from the Return of the Thief launch party Q&A with MWT!

• (I meant to keep a Not Telling tally but I got distracted by all the good words Megan put together.)

EDIT: A VOD of the stream has been posted here!

• It took 20 minutes into the event to get the first Not Telling, and everyone was astonished it wasn't sooner.

• She referenced the Not Telling shirt made for her by @queensandkingsofattolia ! She wasn't wearing it, but she did have her Not Telling socks, which she would put on her hands and hold up to the camera.

• She talked about how she doesn't like suspense as a reader. She always wants the stories to get to the point instead of dragging on, so in writing, she puts light scenes in to break up the suspense. She doesn't always know what those scenes will be, she just has a feel for what's needed there. One example is when Sophos and the magus are traveling to Attolia in aCoK, when they eat the chicken. "We eat the chicken now!" was a scene that made her happy while she wrote it.

• She was asked to explain the gods and how the different pantheons work with each other, and said she never wants to explain the gods. She doesn't want them to be cut-and-dry or understandable.

• Asked about writing such complex, ruthless characters and making them likeable.

Alex (mod): Do you think [the POV characters] good? Megan: *silently presents Not Telling socks*

• Said that if you're going to spend so much time in a characters head, there has to be some part of them that you and the readers will like. And there are some people whose heads she didn't want to be in. Even the ruthless ones making terrible decisions, she does like. "Nahuseresh? Not so much."

Alex: *says something about how they've never encountered books with more poker face than QT* Megan: *big ol' grin*

• Talking about how these books have so many layers and so much suspense, Megan said a lot of that is owing to the fact it's a series and she needed to be consistent, she couldn't switch the style of it or tone halfway through. When she writes the next thing, it might be a whole different kind of book. She'll have to see whether that was just sonething distinctive to QT, or that's what she naturally gravitates towards writing.

• She mentioned that she isn't fond of 1st person narrative, and the chat collective raised a single eyebrows at the irony.

• In fact, TaT was written in 3rd person at first. But she realized that wasn't working so she scrapped that and rewrote the whole thing, bc it needed to be Kamet who was telling us the story.

• She pronounced Kamet as "Kam-et".

• When talking about the details in her books and how they go into logistics, she brought a book onto camera called Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by Donald W. Engles. It heavily influenced the way she wrote about war and the politics thereof in QT.

• The Thief was partly inspire by a conversation she had with a young relative back during the Bush administration when Kuwait was invaded. The young relative didn't understand what the U.S. was doing in the middle east when we had so many problems to focus in our own country, and Megan explained that we weren't involved in that conflict out of the goodness of our hearts, but bc they had resources we wanted. (The way she phrased it, you could hear the magus talking to the boys in The Thief, and it gave me shivers.) And she realized, kids don't see that side of war in stories. Armies are always fighting Sauron and the forces of evil, and acting out if their own self-interests against people who might not be all bad.

• And thus, The Queen's Thief spiraled jnto existence.

• Why does she choose to write about disability and illness the way she does? Rosemary Sutcliff. Sutcliff was disabled for most of her life, and this reflected in the stories she told. Megan recalls Warrior Scarlet as the first book that challenged her as a kid to think about disability and illness as a natural part of life, and to question who gets to be at the center of the story. Who gets to be the hero? Who gets to be the hero of an adventure story? Why shouldn't characters dealing with illness or disability be those heros?

• TaT was a direct response to Sutcliff's novel Eagle of the Ninth, where an earnest young Roman soldier has these great plans for his life that get toppled when he is injured in his first battle and can no longer serve.

Megan: Costis checks every box for earnest young guy!

• In Eagle, there is a slave who travels with the protagonist and is freed by him at the end as part of the protagonist's journey. It was important to tell TaT from Kamet's point of view so that it was about him. "He is never an object of a quest, always a person."

• Megan has never read The Aeneid.

• She recommends Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin, which tells The Aeneid from a different POV.

• On writing process: She doesn't outline. When she has a book idea, she first tells it as a story by cornering her husband and telling him the whole thing with plenty of hand gestures. After that, she does a "sketch". She writes down the shape of the story, plotlines and characters, which is usually half the length of the finished book. Then she fleshes it out, and cuts and adds and cuts snd adds until she has pretty much a whole book, and then she edits again to cut everything that doesn't absolutely need to be there.

• She says it's important to remember you can't fix everything in one draft. You just need to focus on 20 or so things at a time, and then on the next pass you can focus on 20 other things.

• On keeping characters straight: "It's very crowded in my head." She doesn't focus so much on remembering exactly what she has written about a character before, but knowing who the character is so that she knows how they would react in whatever new situation she is writing them in.

Megan: Okay, Costis. I know this guy, I know what he's going to do. He's going to punch that guy in the face and it will be very embarrassing.

• A lot of people asked about the vampires referenced in The Thief and if they were real. She's not telling.

• Someone *cough*me*cough* Asked if she was planning a spin-off series about Eddisian vampires falling in love. "Never say never, but it's probably unlikely."

Alex: What happened to Ornon's sheep? Megan: Guys....guys......I have to put on another sock, come on, guys! *digs for her Not Telling socks and holds them up*

• On worldbuilding: You have to break with reality. It's great to research the process of how to retin pans! Adding details like that can enrich your story, but you can also add things that wouldn't have been possible in the real world. Like, pocket watches and window glass and printing presses all at the same time. The made up details also make your story richer.

Megan: Cut the research and tell a good story!

• On myths: She never writes the myths first. When she was writing The Thief, she would make a new line and type "[Myth Here]" and then go on with the rest of the story and cone back to that later.

• She recommends Ancient Near East Texts by James B. Pritchard for some good myths!

• What she likes best about DWJ: The Audacity(tm). DWJ would write about the most bizarre things very casually.

Megan: Her stories had a "hold my beer" quality.

• She told the story about hiw DWJ got her published (Alex: "She had good taste") and trying to send DWJ the advanced copy of aCoK before she died, but those stories have been retold elsewhere before so I won't bother with them now.

• Megan wore lovely, lovely earrings! And at the beseechment of the chat, she showed them to the camera and told us they were made by @freenarnian

• Finally, the winner of the trivia party was granted the honor of asking a question on camera, and Megan benevolently said she would not cry Not Telling on whatever was asked.

• Margaux, the winner, asked what the age difference was between Dite and Irene, and if they had grown up together.

• After a REAL long pause, Megan said that she didn't think they had grown up together. Irene is younger than Dite, and she was too busy, and I quote, "killing people." Her childhood ended early and she didn't have time to be a kid. Besides that, they wouldn't have been allowed to hang out in Attolian society, bc she was a girl and he was a boy. They were probably introduced to each other atvevents, but that was it.

• Also: Dite is pronounced "Die-tee".

• She has more events like this planned in the future!!!!! Keep an eye on her tumblr!!!!!

• EDIT: @whataliethatwas made a transcript of the event!

[niche-pastiche]

John Winchester SPN Meta

I’m about to argue that John Winchester was suicidal so if that’s not a topic you can engage with safely please don't risk it.

TW: Suicide, grief, mental illness

The way I interpret John Winchester, his obsession with hunting YED is less of a quest and more of a coping mechanism. The same is true of his need to protect his boys, especially Sam. John Winchester seems to me like a man who is dangerously depressed and has been since his wife died and their house burnt down leaving him homeless and raising two young boys while living out of his car. Oh and also monsters are real. And all that while dealing with whatever he saw in Vietnam.

[Okay so this post got really long and it involves content that requires a trigger warning so I put the rest of it under the cut.]

John Winchester was raised by his mom from a young age after his dad, Henry Winchester, walked out on them with no explanation. He’s been the “man of the household” since he was a child. When describing John to a time traveling Dean, Mary says “He’s sweet, kind. Even after the war, after everything, he still believes in happily ever after, you know? He’s everything a hunter isn’t.”

And yet so often I see interpretations of the character that match a lot more closely with Samuel Campbell than anything we saw from John.  

Yes, John screwed up as a dad and his kids deserved better. But I’d argue he knows that too and just can’t let himself think about it. This is clearly a man holding on by the skin of his teeth. The two things that have kept him going all these years are the need to protect his kids and kill the thing that killed Mary. If he stops going for even one second, he’s afraid he’ll fall apart.

When he’s crashing on Missouri Mosely’s sofa at the tail end of 1x09 Home, the man clearly has some of the same mental health issues we’ll see from Dean in later seasons. (I’d argue Dean’s successful crossroads deal is symbolically similar to enlisting, with Hell functioning as a pretty good metaphor for war in the earlier seasons. But there’s also that self sacrificial death wish there. The later example with the Ma'lak box is more clearcut.)

This is the scene:

[CUT TO: INT. – MISSOURI’S HOUSE. MISSOURI comes inside and sets her purse on the table.]

MISSOURI: That boy…he has such powerful abilities. But why he couldn’t sense his own father, I have no idea. [The camera pans over to her couch, where JOHN WINCHESTER is sitting.]

JOHN: Mary’s spirit –- do you really think she saved the boys?

MISSOURI: I do. [JOHN nods sadly and twists his wedding ring on his finger.] John Winchester, I could just slap you. Why won’t you go talk to your children?

JOHN: [tearfully] I want to. You have no idea how much I wanna see ‘em. But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I know the truth. [They share a look. The screen fades to black.]

I tried to make a list of all the moments in season 1 and the first episode of season 2 that show John is a suicide risk but I couldn’t because I ended up with literally every moment he’s on screen.

He literally begs Sam to shoot him at one point.

This man needs help and at any time he could have stopped this quest for revenge and reached out to Bobby and I’m sure Bobby would have helped him get some actual real help. But he doesn’t. And he hasn’t. Not since he tried to talk to his coworker at the garage about what happened to Mary.

I think he was afraid his kids would be taken away if he admitted to needing help.

And at the end of Season 1, his boys are on the way to get that help when the truck smashes into them.  (And like, if it had been a one season show I could accept that ending. A rusty nail after 15 seasons is a very different story.)

Okay so I’ve gotten a little off track but I’d like to return to a previous point of mine. I think the primary thing that keeps him going is telling himself that his boys still need him. I think that’s the real reason he freaks out so bad when Sam goes away to college. I think a lot of Dean’s problems were John’s problems first that Dean learned by example. But I certainly don’t think they were necessarily all intentional lessons.

Dean’s story is one of learning not to make the same mistakes his dad did. Up to and including trying to defeat the big bad by sacrificing himself.

John wronged his children by making that deal with Azazel. It leads to Dean making a crossroads deal and spending 40 years in hell, Sam getting locked in the cage with Lucifer and so much more suffering. Not to mention Sam had to find him like that. No, screw that. We’ll later learn that there are so many other ways of bringing people back there’s no reason he had to make a deal with Azazel. He could have taken the same crossroads deal as anyone else but John wanted to die and that makes him an asshole.

It’s not that John deserves to die because he’s a terrible father.

John is a terrible father because he believed he deserved to die and didn’t seek out the support he needed.

And I am so proud of Dean for not repeating John’s mistakes. He doesn’t buy into the idea that dying to the Djinn in What Never Was and Never Should Be is an acceptable outcome. He refuses to play his part in the apocalypse. He shows up on Lisa’s doorstep at the end of season 5 because he knows it’s too dangerous fro him to be alone after losing Sam. He kills Death and yeah sure now he has to face the Darkness but he’s alive and once he works through it Amara is actually really cool.

For all John’s failings, he managed to raise his kid to be better than he was but he’s still a f*cking asshole for not working through his own shit and for dying like that.

[jaysworlds]

T4TMA Day Five - Community

“How’s it going, Miss. James?”

Sasha carefully avoids looking up, pretending to focus on her paperwork. “Something the matter, Mr. Stoker?”

Tim laughs, pushing the stack of papers (extra work from Jon; punishment for something that had been entirely Tim’s fault) to the side so he can sit down. “I was just thinking…”

“Funny that, me too.”

“Oh? Care to share?”

“Yes, actually. I was thinking that whatever you’re planning is a terrible idea.”

“I have great ideas.” Sasha finally looks up, fixing him with a glare that she hopes is suitably withering. “I’m still dealing with the fallout from your last ‘great idea.’”

“Alright, alright, I can admit that one was flawed.” He runs a hand through his hair, seemingly unbothered by her best glare. Maybe she should work on that.

Maybe she should work on making him fear her a little more, though she has a suspicion that any attempt would probably start a prank war, and she is not looking to get fired any time soon.

“But this new one is great!”

Sasha groans. “I don’t suppose you could just leave me alone? I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

“You haven’t forgiven me? Me, your best pal?”

“Yes. You.”

Tim sighs, dramatic and long-suffering. “What cruelty. Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

Sasha groans again, smacking her head into her paperwork. She can’t admit she’s interested, though her curiosity is going to be the death of her one day.

“Fine.”

“Perfect!”

“So? Hit me.”

“Archival pride trip!”

Sasha sits up, staring at him. “Are you actually serious?”

“Yeah! London Pride is in a couple of weeks, and it would be a great bonding experience, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re mad if you think Jon will agree to that.”

Tim flaps his hand around. “I see no reason why he wouldn’t. It’s a bonding experience!”

“You said.”

“God, you’re boring. Wouldn’t it be fun, though? Just you, me, Jon, and Martin. Maybe they’d even kiss!”

Sasha snorts. “Tim, you’re living in a fantasy world.”

“Maybe we’d kiss.” He waggles his eyebrows at her, and she can’t quite supress a smile.

“How about this,” she says, because she can’t deny she’d like to watch Tim get shot out of the sky by Jon telling him going to pride would be ‘unprofessional’ or something. “If Jon says yes to us going to pride then I’ll kiss you there, alright?”

Tim grins and throws his arms around her shoulders, nearly knocking them both onto the ground. “I knew you had it in you. I’m going to get that kiss, mark my words.”

Sasha laughs and shoves him off. “I don’t think so.”

Someone clears their throat from behind them and Sasha freezes. It’s Jon, she knows it’s Jon, and if he gives her more paperwork she is going to murder Timothy Stoker.

“Hey, boss!” Tim says, standing up and brushing himself down. Sasha turns around in her chair to watch.

“You’re not on a break, Tim,” Jon says, giving him a disapproving look. Theirs is even worse than Sasha’s, and unsurprisingly Tim does not cower. “Please stop harassing Sasha. I’m sure you both have enough work to be getting on with.”

“Sure,” Tim says, wandering over and slinging an arm around their shoulders. Sasha cringes a little, but surprisingly enough Jon doesn’t shove him off. Just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What is it?”

“I’ve had a wonderful idea for a group bonding exercise,” he says, steering Jon towards their office. “I’d love to talk to you about it.”

“You have five minutes,” Jon says, and then the door to his office bangs shut.

Sasha snorts. There’s no way in hell that Jon is going to agree to this.

“Hi, Sasha.”

“Hi, Martin,” Sasha says, leaning back against her desk and grinning at him. “You’re never going to guess what Tim’s trying to arrange.”

“Oh dear,” Martin says, brow furrowing. “Is it a prank war? I’m really not any good at pranks, you know. I would put salt in people’s tea, but that just seems really predictable, you know?”

Sasha laughs. “Oh, god no. I don’t think he’d announce that, just start … filling Jon’s office with plastic spiders or something. No, it’s not that.”

“Bar crawl?”

“Nope.”

“Some sort of competition?”

“Nope. I told you, you’ll never guess.”

“Fine. Tell me.”

“Archival pride trip.”

Martin laughs, almost nervously. “Jon’s never going to agree to that. Right?”

“I hope not. I’ll have to kiss Tim if he does.”

“Oh, really?” Martin frowns, getting a look in his eye that Sasha doesn’t completely like.

“Yes. What’s that look for?”

Martin gives her a little smile that she really doesn’t like. “Oh, nothing. Is Tim talking to them now?”

“Yes,” Sasha says, narrowing her eyes. “Martin Blackwood, what are you planning?”

“Nothing!” Martin says, and he’s such a bad liar. “I’m just going to, um, take Jon their cup of tea, alright?”

“Don’t encourage Tim,” Sasha says warningly, as Martin starts backing towards the office. “I mean it! You’ll make an enemy for life!”

Martin just laughs and disappears into Jon’s office.

God, why had she told him about her crush on Tim? He’s going to use that knowledge against her, she knows it.

She growls to herself and turns back to her paperwork. Might as well get something done, right?

“Sasha!” Tim announces, almost five minutes later, and she can tell by his tone of voice that he’s won. Somehow. “You’ll never guess what we, as an archive, are going to do next week.”

She groans and turns around slowly, not wanting to see the smug grin on his face. “Oh, I couldn’t guess. Please, enlighten me.”

“Our wonderful boss has decided that it will be a fantastic bonding experience if we all go to pride.”

Sasha shakes her head, turning to give Martin, just emerging from Jon’s office, her withering glare. Unlike Tim he actually shrinks a little, giving her a smile that might be apologetic, from a certain angle.

“Did you encourage him?” she growls, and Martin laughs nervously.

“I just suggested it, that’s all.”

“You are the worst,” she tells him. “I’m never trusting you again.”

Tim laughs, triumphant. “He’s my partner in crime!”

“He’s going to be your partner in suffering for this.”

“Oh, stop it. We all know you want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

“The thought makes me feel violently ill.”

“Shame, because these lips are going to be on yours in two weeks’ time.”

Sasha turns to glare at Martin again, only to find that he’s already disappeared. Probably wise, really. Maybe she should instigate a prank war.

Tim actually brings flags into the archive over the next two weeks, and the worst part is that Jon actually lets him hang them up. She’s considering going into his office and demanding to know who’s stolen him and replaced him with a boss who actually lets Tim carry out his dumb ideas.

She has to admit it’s kind of nice, though, having the flags around. Tim has bought himself and Jon bi flags, Martin several little rainbow pins, and an enormous trans flag for all four of them that he’s somehow managed to tape to the ceiling. There’s even an ace flag on Jon’s door, and she’s considering letting him bring her a pan flag. Considering.

(She lets him, in the end. It’s not like she doesn’t have one at home, but it’s her home flag, and having one on her desk is nice, actually.)

She still doesn’t understand how he convinced Jon to let him do this, but she has a suspicion that he bribed them, though what with she isn’t sure. Maybe the flags are the bribe.

The morning of pride is … exciting, actually. Jon’s given them all the whole day off work (she thinks he must have bribed Elias. Maybe with whatever Tim bribed him with) and they’re planning to meet at Trafalgar Square. Maybe she goes a little overboard with getting dressed, but what’s the point of pride if you’re not going overboard?

Tim has gone even more overboard than she has, to be honest. He’s painted his whole face blue, purple and pink like he’s going to a gay football game, and he’s wearing a trans flag as a cape, complete with a he/him broach. It’s kind of cool, really. Not that she’d tell him that.

Martin has, predictably, gone pretty simple, just a few badges on his shirt (which reads ‘come to the gay side, we have rainbows.’ Sasha’s certain Tim bought it for him) and a little paper flag.

Jon, to her surprise, isn’t quite as straight-laced (ha) as they usually are. They’re wearing a skirt which wouldn’t meet the institute dress code and honest-to-god fishnet stockings.

“Looking good, boss!” Tim calls, when they arrive, and they give him a small, almost embarrassed smile.

“Thank you, Tim,” they say. “You too.”

Martin is, predictably, staring, and Sasha elbows him gently. As cross as she is that this is at least partially his fault she doesn’t want him to embarrass himself.

It’s a good day, actually. A really good day. Tim has brought a polaroid camera, and he insists on documenting everything. Martin has to keep the photos safe, as the only person who’s brought bag, but Tim doesn’t seem to mind.

“Right!” he says, after a few hours, and hands the camera off to Martin. “One of you owes me a kiss.”

Sasha rolls her eyes and walks over to him, perhaps a little more eagerly than normal. “I’ll try not to be sick.”

“Like you haven’t been looking forward to this for the past two weeks.”

“Talking to yourself?”

Tim laughs, pulling her closer. “Shut up and kiss me.”

And she does. He’s a good kisser, actually, and it’s nice. It’s really nice.

“See?” he says, when he pulls away. “That wasn’t so bad.”

She rolls her eyes and kisses him on the cheek. “There. That’s all you get.”

“What do I have to do to get a date as well?”

She huffs, glancing over at Martin. He grins and waves a fresh photo at her.

“I’ll think about it,” she says, finally. “Come on, let’s go.”

“That’s not a no,” Tim says, gleefully.

“Come on,” Jon says, rolling his eyes, though Sasha imagines it’s rather fond. “We can’t stand around here all day.”

“Coming, boss,” Tim says, and grins at Sasha.

And if she reaches out to link her fingers through his, then that’s nobody’s business but her own.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

I'm now cursed with this image: Itty bitty cameraman falling ill with fever and feeling unwell all day after a freak accident at a film studio. He's so out of it that Miss Twisted and Brute get legitimately concerned and confine him to a bed all day before he hurts himself. Come nightfall he still doesn't feel well so the others go call a doctor and maybe find a safe way to bring down his fever. While they're out of the room Cameraman goes through a transformation scene straight out of an american werewolf in london, and turns into a mindless towering projector monster. He smashes through a window and escapes into the city to cause chaos, much to the shock and confusion of his two roomies who just thought he had the flu.

I read this thinking ‘damn I should write something about this’ and I couldn’t help myself:

At first, Cameraman’s behavior when he got back was nothing too out of the ordinary. It was normal for the film critic criminal to sulk over a failed plan (and maybe take a drink or two before returning).

Especially when said plan involved a film studio that had, in his words; “Not only made and reinforced terrible stereotypes but had also spat in the very eyes of the art of movie making and kicked it in the shins repeatedly by only hashing out the exact same sloppily made horror flick every year and slapping ‘remastered’ or some other trash like that on the title.”

At first, the other members of the Society for the Shellacking of Souper Boris were fine with letting him sulk in his workshop for most of the day while planning on doing something to cheer him up later, but usually, even when it gets bad, these sulk fests never included coughing fits.

“ARGH!” The camera-headed crook crumpled up the blueprints for his failed machine and threw them in the trash so hard that it knocked the can over, spilling the contents all over the floor of his workshop area. “S-stupid ‘Maze of the heart ripper’ series, stupid Olden Arch Studios, stupid- *HAAAAACKK!* *COUGH!* *CoUgH!* *cOUgh!* *COugH!* *COUGH!* *COUGH!*”

“Brute brought back fire fuel! Missy and I wanted to- CAMERAMAN?!”

The Brute walked into the scene of Cameraman coughing so hard that he was flopping around on the trashy floor as if he were a live fish on a hot pan. The large wolf imminently dropped the stack of the ‘maze of the heart ripper’ movie reels (that were stolen of course, the three wouldn’t dare give a single penny of support to THOSE types of movies.) and rushed over to help his friend up.

“...Cameraman okay?”

“Ự̺̺̞U̼̮͓̪u̺̪̰u̘͚̺̗̟̻̰u̦̪̪̘̰ͅuuU̷͍̠̲̰̰̪̩U̧̬͓͇Ù̼̺͈̠͇͓̩u҉͓̩̳u̻̩̰̟̮͉̲ų̹̖̫̜̜̤g̞͈̗̼̟̞͖͝g̤̯G̷̻͎̣̙g̝̘̗̫̺͘g̞͓̱̲̖̞ͅG̵̘̦̩͇̗̱G̛͓̠͔̱̳̯g͉͍͖̖̥ͅh͔̲̬̗͇̮̟̀ẖ̡͖̱h̼̬̖͕h͎H̭̬͍͓̭̣̳H̹͍̳͍͓H̟̪̪H͖̜̗̱́h̭h̹͔̤͓h̘͍̪̤.̣̹͖̖͍.͚̳͈̗̞.̖̫̘͜”

The toon swayed and staggered as he clutched onto his wolf roommate’s paw.

“I-I͢'͞ve͡ *COugh!* ̸ńev҉e̵r fe̷lt ̕bette̡r͏!͟ In fact, I’m not going to let that sorry excuse for a horror move studio let it see another moment’s worth of peace! All I need is to make a few adjustments to the blueprints and- HE-H-HEY! Brute! put me down!”

The Brute shook his head as he carried Cameraman out of his workshop and up to his room.

“Cameraman sick and needs rest, not vengeance.”

“But I’m *HAACCKK!!* *COUGH!* fine!” Cameraman fruitlessly struggled against the wolf’s grip. “It’s just some dust! I probably got some caught when the studio partly collapsed.”

“Then why leaking black fluid out speaker? And why head feel like hot stove?”

“Okay, so maybe I am *COUGH!* a little bit overheated, but not by much! They’re already weakened, I did make *HAAACK* a dent in their precious studio but if I really want *REICH!* to do some damage, then I need to get back there and *COugh!* *COUgh!* *coUGH!*”

“Cameraman flopped on floor like dying trout, and is still flopping now. Me think it bad idea to let you wreak havoc right now. Go sleep.”

The demoness sprang down from the ceiling with a mildly annoyed but quizzical expression on her face.

“What’s with all the racket you two? I could hear you all the way from the roof!”

“Cameraman has flu and needs sleep.”

The giant wolf calmly remarked before readjusting his cargo while giving a suspicious look to the fresh stain on his fur, a stain that smelled kinda like some weird type of ink to him, or oil? He was not an expert on the strange smells that emanate from mysterious dark liquids that started oozing out of his friends.

“...And maybe doctor.”

“No *HAAAACK!* I don’t!”

“Aww... poor little Cammy...” Miss Twisted sympathetically patted the camera headed toon on the shoulder. “I know how much it sucks to get sick when you want to make the fools who wronged you suffer, but health must come first, or else evil can’t prosper!”

“I’m the *REICH!* very picture of health!”

...

Cameraman struggled against the straps used to keep him in bed as he looked for a way out of this trap that didn’t involve shooting his room apart.

“How ma-*COUGH*COUGH*-ny times do I have to keep saying it?!” he uselessly pleaded “I’m *COUGH!* perfectly fine!”

Miss Twisted did not look convinced as she continued to tighten his restraints.

“Cam, even if you weren’t burning, leaking, staggering, or coughing your head off, you jumped out of a third-story window and were planning to swim back to the studio. If you weren’t sick, you’d know that that is a terrible idea.”

“But I-”

“No buts! Now please just get some rest! The studio will still be there to be razed to the ground after you feel better.”

The demoness left the disgruntled camera’s room as she planned to call the doctor.

“It’s just a cough!” he called out after her. “You’d *HAAACK!* get one too you’d crawl through dusty air vests for an hour! I swear that place puts just as much effort into it’s cleaning as it does it’s scripts and research!”

She didn’t call back to him, possibly already on the phone talking to a doctor that didn’t need to be called in the first place.

“Can this day possibly get any worse?!” he grumbled to himself. “My beautiful machine that was meant to show them REAL horror instead got busted, that blasted studio’s still standing, my roommates have been freaking out all day over a cough-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THINGS MERCIFUL!”

Where just mere seconds ago he felt a little woozy from coughing so much, the pain suddenly hit him like a jackhammer.

“AAAAAAARRRRRGHH!!!! *pant* I- *pant* I’M BURNING! I- I’M-”

The already tight restraints grew even tighter for him, making hard for the little fellow to breathe until-

*RRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!*

Cameraman felt like his body was on fire, he felt like his bones were all being broken at once but his agonizing pain was nothing compared to the sheer fear that he felt looking down at his restraints and his gloves and shoes ripping off due to the sheer massive size of his changing body.

“W-WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

Maybe he wouldn’t mind getting a growth spurt or two, but this was too much! The now werewolf-esc toon staggered off of his bed in fear it would break from his new size and assumed weight, clawing at the nearest wall to steady himself as he felt his spine popping like popcorn as he grew.

“HELP ME! SOMEBODY MAKE THIS STOP!”

Well, whatever force behind this was at least somewhat considerate, he stopped growing but he didn’t stop changing. He looked to his shaking hands that now more closely resembled hairless paws, complete with claws and ‘beans’. A million thoughts were rolling through Cameraman’s head, a million possible answers, and a million things that he should have done to prevent this, but the more he thought, the less any of those thoughts made sense.

“W̕H̀Ỳ ̧̧I̢S̵̢͟ ͝TH̴̀I̡S̸҉ H̡ĄP̀Ṕ̸͝È̢N͘I̛͟Ń͏͢G͠҉̶ ͘T͢O ̵̵͠M͏E̵?̷͡!̢͠”

It was getting harder and harder for him to think, his brain had might as well have been melting! He tried his hardest to think of a solution to his problem until he heard and felt something *SNAP* off of his head and he looked to the floor to see that both his flash and his film reel had been popped off of him. And with them, went all his worries. The creature didn’t need to think. At least, it didn’t need to think anywhere as much as it’s old form did, all that he needed was to kill and maim those who had wronged it. They didn’t need their hearts, so it might as well take it for them.

“W̴̡W̸R̢͟R̵͜R͠͝R͘R̸R̸R̴͡R̴͢ŔR̛R͏̧͏Ŕ̨̛R͏R͏̷͘R͏̴R̛R̢̧͝R̴̢R̶̢͟ŖR͘R͞R͠͠R͘͞͏R͏̧R̡̀RR̵̨R͜͡Y͟Ỳ̴͡Ỳ̕̕Ý͢͏Y̸̴Y̕͟!̸͘!̸̢!͜!̴̨͝“

[fifteenleads]

companion fic to spoiler alert!, set during 'Exhibit C'.

.

Osamu is jolted awake by a kick to his shin, the sudden wave of pain ruining his mid-morning dream of snippets of song haphazardly thrown together. First time he's had some inspiration in a long while, already ruined before noon.

He yanks off his eye mask, fully prepared to give whichever rude bastard who dared interrupt his down time a throroughly entitled lashing, but a simple command stops him cold and his words die on his tongue at once:

"Get up."

The owner of the nasal voice is a petite red-haired thing dressed for a business meeting, delicate features marred with an ill-fitting scowl. "Now, Dazai Osamu. We're already way behind schedule."

A sigh, then a grumble. "Couldn't you have been a little gentler, Chuuya?"

"Nothing happens whenever I wait for you to wake up on your own," comes the harried reply as Osamu is pulled to his feet. "Now get dressed."

So he relents for now and does as he is told, observing Chuuya's absurdly colorful expressions from the mirror. Admittedly, he gets a perverse pleasure, of sorts, whenever he manages to get a rise out of his manager, like so, because God knows how serious he always gets.

The melody from earlier is back, and he finds himself humming while waving his hand. Perhaps he can get Chuuya to notice him more, if he manages to pull this off well, as always.

Osamu continues to hum cheerfully as they ride the elevator to the basement, while Chuuya taps away on his phone. "Whatever it is you're planning to do at the press-con later, forget it. You're a pain in the ass to cover for."

He doesn't respond, as always, trailing behind Chuuya as they make their way to the car. The single hawk-like glare he gets before they pull out of the parking lot won't help one bit, either.

As the event goes on later, Osamu bides his time carefully, only half-listening and nodding politely as the host and judges go through the top auditionees for the upcoming idol contest. He himself was lucky to have been scouted by his current management instead; otherwise he wouldn't be here now.

He wasn't actually keen on being a singer, to be honest. His first few months in the industry were quite uninspiring, so to speak, and his all-but-nonexistent career had almost ended— not that he particularly cared, of course.

Chuuya becoming his manager had certainly changed things. It was the exact moment Osamu's career took off, and the higher-ups were thrilled at how such a good character and influence was finally rubbing off him.

It was actually because of a kick to his shin, much like the one from earlier, and a bad case of love at first sight, but no one else has to know that, for now.

Osamu finally gets his chance when he spies Chuuya leaving the studio for a while, probably reassured that he would remain well-behaved through the second half of the press-con.

Part of him petulantly wishes Chuuya's here for this, but the surprise will be ruined, otherwise.

He waits until the main camera pans away from him then hums the melody in his mind, projecting just loud enough for the lapel mic to pick up but not to disturb the others talking. Piecing the snippets together took much improvisation, but he could work on the arrangement later.

Already, there are raised eyebrows, a few journalists on his side of the stage leaning in intently. They're the ones assigned to cover him on a regular basis, and have already picked up on the previous times he'd pulled this off.

"Spoilers?" One of them mouths at him.

He nods.

Osamu finishes just in time as the program wraps up, and he is asked for a final comment. He delivers his prepared lines flawlessly as Chuuya comes back, none the wiser, as expected.

This will get prime coverage in the news by tomorrow morning, they are reassured. Good.

"Good job today," Chuuya says to him as they drive back home. He may say it offhandedly, but Osamu knows how much he means every word. It's one of the many reasons he's come to love his manager so.

A smile, for now, surreptitious and fleeting, lest he get caught prematurely. "Like always?" This only gets a tired grunt in acknowledgement.

None the wiser, indeed.

Satisfied, Osamu leans back and sleeps the rest of the way home. If he's lucky, Chuuya will find out about what he has done tomorrow. If not, then tonight.

It'll be exciting, either way.

[lynelovespopculture]

THE CHILLING ADVENTURES OF ZELDA CHAPTER 17-WITCHES IN A MORTAL WORLD

 AS CORDELIA FEELS HER FRIENDS DIFTING AWAY FROM HER, FAUSTUS MUST DEAL WITH VERY UNWANTED ATTENTION FROM NINA.

 The silence in the car was deafening.  Once or twice, Cordelia felt brave enough to turn her head to look at her father.  Usually, she could gage how her father was feeling just by looking at him, but now his face was just as unreadable as her mother’s usually was.  Still, Cordelia knew she had to say something to defend herself. After all, she didn’t do anything wrong.

“Dad,” Cordelia started. “I had nothing to do with whatever the Warners and that new girl were doing in that bathroom. I swear, I was only there a second before Becky came in.” Becky Mercer was the hallway monitor, who had entered the girls’ room right after Cordelia did. Becky incorrectly assumed that all 5 girls were in on this together, so all 5 girls were hauled off to Mr. Putnam’s office. Unfortunately, Faustus and the new 8th grade teacher, Mrs. Robinson, were already there. Cordelia felt very uncomfortable having her father there as Becky described the scene in the bathroom. When it came time to leave, her friends gave her dirty looks, as if it was her fault. “I swear I had nothing to do with it.”  Cordelia stressed.

“I know.”

“You do?"

“Of course, Cordy,” Faustus turned to his daughter, smiling. “I know you know what real magic is. It’s sure not a painted piece of cardboard made by Parker Brothers.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

Faustus shrugged. “Why should I be? If you say you weren’t involved…”

“I wasn’t.” Cordelia insisted.

“I didn’t know that the triplets were interested in magic.”

“Nor did I. But I suspect that their new friend, Sara, could be  at the heart of it. She claims to be a wiccan.”

“A wiccan!”  Faustus scoffed. “It’s a false word used by mortals to made themselves feel powerful. Besides, all I have read says that real wiccans died out with the age of  the pagans and there  has not been any pagans in Greendale since before you  were born, Cordelia.”

Cordelia knew that it was time to change the subject. “So, why were you in Mr. Putnam’s office anyway?”

“Well, while your friends were trying to start the 2nd fire of the day, Theo was dealing with the first one. You see since both the 8th grade classroom and the library  are  burned and therefore will  be unusable for several  months, Mrs. Robinson and her class have nowhere to go and since our  class happens to the smallest one this year-“

“They’re going to move the 8th  grade in with  us.”  Cordelia finished.

“Yes.”  Faustus confirmed.

“Do we even have that kind of room to share?”

“We should, once we move some desks and things around. What I can’t tell you is how they expect 2 teachers to run 1 classroom.”

Cordelia didn’t know either, so she just shrugged and looked out the window.  They were passing city hall when she saw a happy  brunette couple on the front steps. Cordelia thought she knew the woman, but she couldn’t quite place her.

 “There, that should do it!” It was Friday afternoon and Faustus and Nina were finish moving the last desk. They had been working afterschool all week to rearrange the room. 8 graders on 1 side, 7 on the other.

“Now you can all move in Monday.” Faustus smiled.

“Great! After bunking down in the cafeteria all week, it will be nice to enjoy lunch again, not have to rush to dismiss  my class early for it every single  day.”

They both laughed then Nina came closer.  “Seriously, Mr. Spellman, I’m really grateful to you for taking me in.”

“Oh, think nothing of it.”

“No, I mean it. If I can do anything, and I do mean anything, to thank you, just ask.”

Faustus’s smile remained on his face right up until Nina goosed him.

  “What?!  Oh no, Faustus, she didn’t do that.” Zelda giggled.

It was late that night, Faustus and Zelda were alone in their bedroom.  Faustus was telling his wife about his day.

“Oh yes, she did!” Faustus insisted. “And I didn’t misread or misunderstand the situation. That foolish woman walked straight up and goosed me! She willingly and knowingly grabbed my left buttocks with her hand and squeezed, hard.  So hard that I think she left a mark.”

Zelda burst out laughing. Faustus felt annoyed. Zelda was the only woman he had ever been faithful to.  Hecate knows that he had no plan or desire to change that, ever! Still, was it so wrong to want the woman he loved to be a tiny bit jealous? That he would comfort her and calm her fears by telling her, truthfully, that he immediately stepped, (okay, more like jumped), several steps away from Nina and told her that he was flattered but very happily married. Was that too much to ask? Faustus supposed it was as Zelda continued to laugh.

“I’m glad this amuses you, dearest. I know that I’m pushing 400, Zelda Spellman, but I thought that another woman being attracted me isn’t that humorous.”

“It isn’t humorous at all.” Zelda was instantly serious.  “I wasn’t laughing at that. You’re a very handsome man, darling. No, I was laughing at the irony.”

Faustus was completely lost. “What irony?”

“Her name.”

“Nina?”

Zelda shook her head. “No, Faustus. Mrs.  Robinson. A woman name Mrs. Robinson made a pass at you! Have you never seen the movie, the Graduate? All that’s missing is for that woman put her leg on a chair and the camera to pan under her leg.”

Now, Faustus was the one laughing.

Zelda smiled. “Remember, dear heart, sexual harassment goes both ways.”

“I’ll remember that. In that meanwhile, I have a question for you,” Faustus leaned forward and tucked some fingers into the knot of Zelda’s bathroom and gently pulled his wife into his arms. “Will you seduce me, Mrs. Spellman?”

“I thought you would never ask.” Zelda smiled and kissed him.

 Ever since they were 7 years old, Erin, Emily, Erica and Cordelia had a deal with their parents. As long as they kept their grades up, the girls were allowed to have sleepovers once a month. They took turns at each   other’s houses. That 1st Saturday after the start of 7th grade, it was Cordelia’s turn to host the triplets and she was excited about it. True, she saw her friends all the time in class and hung out with them outside of school quite often. But something was off this week, namely…Sara. It wasn’t that Cordelia didn’t like Sara, the girl had done nothing to her. It was just that she had known Warners a long time and knew that the sisters had loud, different personalities.  So, why were they seemingly turning into Sara’s yes men? Cordelia tried to bring the subject up to the triplets but they all stared at her like she was crazy. It was like Sara was voted president of a club, a club that Cordelia wasn’t even sure that she belonged to. Of course, they would play with other kids sometimes but the sleepovers were always just for the 4 of them and that’s why Cordelia was so excited for it. That’s why her heart sank when she heard Mr. Warner’s car pulled up and Cordelia saw at the window that the sisters had brought Sara with them.  Still, Cordelia knew it would be rude to turn Sara away so Cordelia swallowed her disappointment and welcomed all of her guests. The girls usually bunkered down in Cordelia’s room but 5 girls didn’t fit, so they made themselves comfortable in the living room. 3 hours into the sleepover, Sara turned to Erica.

“So, are you going to ask her or what?”

Cordelia immediately felt ill at ease. “Ask me what?”

“Cord, you know those old books you have in your attic?” Erica started slowly. “We were wondering if we could go take a look at them.”

“You mean, my cousin Ambrose’s collection?” Cordelia asked, knowing full well that’s exactly what they meant. “Why would you guys want to look at that?”

“To see if Sara could find a spell in one!” Erin said excitedly.

Of course. Cordelia forced herself not to roll her eyes. After never talking about it ever before, the triplets talked about nothing but magic all week long. The only difference between this week and any other, as far as Cordelia knew, was Sara. Still, Cordelia knew she better play it cool.

“You guys don’t want to go up there. It’s nothing but dusty 1st editions of Charles Dickens and Jane Austin.”

“And you’re sure you can account for all the books up there?”

It was comments like that made Cordelia think that Sara was annoying.

“Trust me guys, if I would come across something as cool as a spell book, I would share it with you.”

The triplets agreed and the subject was dropped, or so Cordelia thought. In the middle of the night, Sara woke up the triplets and said that she found books to look over right there in the living room.

“Should we wake up Cordelia?” Emily asked in a whisper.

“No,” Sara whispered back. “She’s only try to stop us or slow us down.”

They all took an armful of books and went into the hallway, leaving Cordelia in a deep sleep on the sofa.

 1 hour later, the triplets were ready to give up.

“There’s nothing here.” Whined Erin.

“Hey, I think I found something!” Declared Erica, but her smile faded quickly. “Never mind, these words aren’t in English.”

Sara took the book from Erica and immediately started to chant words that the triplets could not understand, leaving the sisters to stare at each other. Soon, a fog of green smoke rose up out of the book.  It floated away to the left and into the Spellman dinning room.  By the time the girls had turned the corner, the smoke had turned into a 7-foot green monster. Erin gasped and Erica rushed to cover her sister’s mouth. Only…she wasn’t fast enough for the noise caught the monster’s attention.

“I have been awakened.” The monster boomed at them. “Once I dispatch with you 4, no one can stop me from spreading my brilliant fear.”

“Boy, did you pick the wrong house.”

The monster turned toward the new voice and then the girls saw who was in the doorway.

“Mr. Spellman?”

“Warlock!”  The monster’s growl was so loud that it woke up the 3 people in the house who were still sleeping. Zelda came out of her room and met Jake in the hallway.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”  He answered.  

Meanwhile, in the living room, Cordelia opened her eyes, pushed herself up by her elbow and saw by the dying firelight that all the sleeping bags, 2 on the floor, 1 on a chair and 1 on the sofa across from her, were empty. “Um…guys?!”

After getting up, Cordelia was met at the door by her mother and brother.

“Cordy, what’s happening?”

“Don’t know, Mom, but my friends are gone.”  Cordelia saw the books in the hall and brushed by her brother. “Oh no! I told them not to go upstairs and sort through Ambrose’s collection.”

“They can’t! They might find a spell book!”

Little sister gave big brother a dirty look. “Jeez, you think so?”

Another noise came and Zelda ran into the other room. Cordelia was right behind her and Jake stayed behind just long to pick up the only book that was still opened. They stopped right behind the girls and Sarah. They also beheld the monster with their only eyes. After Jake shook off the shock, he turned the page in the book he held and spoke a sentence.  Instantly, the monster howled in pain and then it disappeared. As it did, green goo spat out of the monster’s mouth and landed on Faustus’s face.

Zelda watched her husband as his lip quivered and she came closer. “Darling, are you alright?”

“Please, don’t leave me, Zelda.”

“Leave you?”

“I know you can have Mambo Marie or anyone in the realms that you desire. But no one can love you like I do. Hecate, I love you so much, Zelda! Please don’t leave me, dearest, please!” Now openly sobbing, Faustus sank to his knees and clung to Zelda’s nightgown.

Unsure what was happening and not sure what to do about her husband, Zelda sighed and looked back at the children. “Cordelia, take your friends back to bed. Jake, perhaps you can fetch the girls some hot coco to calm them down.”

“Calm down?!” Erin shrieked. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that the R rated version of Shrek just came and went? What was that? Why is Mr. Spellman now crying?”

Erin had a million more question as a fuming Cordelia gathered her friends and led them back into the living room. “I thought I told you not to go to the attic and look for books.” Cordelia’s tone was very much like a disappointed parent.

“We didn’t,” Sara shook her head. “All the books we found, came from that cabinet.”

But I locked that up myself before you got here. Cordelia thought silently. For the 10 minutes, Cordelia tried and failed to come up with an explanation for what had happened.  She was so grateful when Jake came in with the hot coco. Emily remarked how yummy the cinnamon was. Cordelia’s mug didn’t have any for she knew that the cinnamon was laced with aunt Hilda’s kitchen magic, designed to make her mortal friends forget the events of this night.

  The next morning, Faustus woke up   with a splitting headache.

“Darling, you’re alright!” Zelda rushed to his side. “How are you feeling?”

Faustus groaned. “Did anyone get the plate of that truck?”

Zelda smiled. “There was no truck. Turns out that our friend, the not-so-jolly green giant is a demon. A fear demon, to be exact.”

“But why did I get hysterical last night and then I remember…nothing else?”

“Well, you were crying so hard that Jake and I couldn’t even think so we put you under a sleeping spell and put you to bed for the night. As Cordelia tended to her friends, Jake and I were able to study that spell book and that’s how we discovered it was a fear demon.”

“But why did I cry at all?” Faustus asked.

“It’s the fear demon’s green goo.  Once the goo made contact with your skin, it made you believe that your greatest fear had come true. Given, how you asked me not to leave you, does your greatest fear involve me?” Zelda asked gently.

Faustus sighed. “As a matter of fact, my greatest fear is you realizing what I already know. That you can do so much better than me.”

Zelda clicked her tongue, sat beside Faustus on the bed and took his hand. “Darling, that’s simply not true. I will never leave you, never! Why won’t you believe me when I say I Iove you just as much as you love me?”

“Because I’ve never been that lucky.” He muttered.

“Will I do.” Zelda insisted and kissed him long and deep.

After gently stroking his wife’s cheek, Faustus got up and reached for his robe. “1 final question, dearest, how long should we punish Cordelia for showing off in front of her friends?”

Zelda frowned. “I’m not sure Cordy did this. She seemed just as shocked as Jake and I was and she’s never behaved like this before.”

“If Cordy didn’t do this, then who did?”

Zelda shrugged as Faustus put his arm around her. As they went downstairs and toward the kitchen, Zelda explained how they were able to rid Faustus of the demon’s goo   by using the strongest anti-spell they had. The one Faustus had discovered himself when they first found LJ and she had spelled Cordelia as a baby. In the kitchen, they saw Jake, who was sitting on the kitchen island, eating a bowl of cereal.  Ambrose and Prudence were at the table, studying a book.  The sleep over guests were gone but Cordelia, still in her pjs, was pacing back and forth.

“Dad!”  Cordelia ran up to her parents as soon as she saw them. “Are you alright? Are you okay?”

Faustus reached down and tucked a stray red hair behind his daughter’s ear. For the past 12 years, 1 of Faustus’s greatest joys in life had been able to raise and claim Cordelia as his own since the moment she was born. Something fate had cheated him out of with his other 3 children. The fact that she was also Zelda’s child was just extra icing on a very sweet cake. The way she ran up to him, coupled with the heavy concern in her eyes made Faustus feel bad he had accused her of anything. He bent and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m perfectly fine.”

Zelda sat down at the table, addressing Ambrose and Prudence. “What are you 2 doing here so early on a Sunday morning?”

“I called them,” Jake explained. “I know you and I studied the spell a lot last night, Mom, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to call in the expert.” Jake pointed his spoon at Ambrose. “Especially since Cordy still says she’s innocent.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “I am!” Cordelia insisted. “The only thing I’m guilty of last night is of falling asleep.”

“I believe you, Cordelia, and I believe the evidence does too.” Ambrose said calmly.

“You found something?” Zelda asked.

Ambrose nodded. “This just happens to be 1 of the oldest spell book in the whole house. The demon summoning spell would have had to be performed by someone who   could speak perfect Latin.”

“And we all know that my Latin is very far from perfect.” Cordelia cut in.

Prudence was confused. “So, the Warners did this?”

Her little sister shook her head. “No, no, no. Erin, Emily and Erica don’t speak a word of Latin nor do they know any magic. I’ll tell you exactly who did that spell. It was the new girl from school, Sara Reed. It was her.”

“Do you really think so?” Faustus asked his daughter.

“I’m certain of it! The triplets have slept over here hundreds of times and nothing bad ever happened until last night when they brought Sara with them.  Hecate, it was Sara’s idea to go upstairs to haunt for books.”

“Is this Sara girl magical?” Jake asked.

Cordelia crossed her arms. “She’s a self-proclaimed wiccan.”

“But a wiccan isn’t magical, none that we’ve ever seen anyway.” Prudence pointed out.

Cordelia shrugged. “I don’t know who or what Sara truly is but I know now that my gut instinct was right. I don’t trust her.”

 Cordelia was in a bad mood for the rest of the day. She was still angry on Monday morning when she entered the school and the 1st thing she saw was the triplets and Sara huddled together in front of a poster. After a heavy sigh, Cordelia went to join them.

“Well, ladies, it seems that it’s play season yet again.”  Emily said as her sisters moaned.

“What? Don’t you like plays?” asked Sara.

Cordelia was now near enough to hear her friends and she was happy. She was happy because they were talking about normal stuff confirming that the hot coco had worked. Also she was happy because she knew the problem about the play without having to ask, unless Sara.

“This school does a play 2 times a year, in the fall and in the spring. But the only play they ever put on, year after year is Death of a Salesman.” Emily explained.

“They?” asked Sara.

Well, the play is mostly done by the 7th & 8th graders.” Erin said.

Erica lit up. “That’s us this year, guys. Maybe we could request a change of the play.”

“That a great idea!”

The 4 girls turned to see Cordelia.  The triplets greeted their friend warmly, but as Cordelia noted, Sara did not. The girls had no more time to talk since the bell rang. But Cordelia managed to block Sara’s way.

“I was just wondering how did you learn how to speak Latin?”

Sara shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know a word of Latin.”

No wonder I don’t trust you. Cordelia thought as she watched Sara walk away. You just lied straight to my face.

The school day didn’t get much better. Since this was the 1st day that grades 7 and 8 were sharing a classroom, it was fitting that their 1st assignment was a joint 1. The whole class has 2 weeks to research and write an essay about their family trees. Later that afternoon, it was announced that some of the 7 graders, including Cordelia, would been bumped up to grade 8 English.

“I’m very excited about the first novel we’re going to read.” Mrs. Robinson declared. “It was 1 of my favorite when I was your age. It’s The Witches by Roald Dahl.”

Faustus overheard all this and didn’t have to look up to know that his daughter had cringed.

 “So, what do you think your father will say when you tell him you’re dating a white guy?”

LJ smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think my father will have anything to say about it. Mostly because he’s a white guy himself. I didn’t tell you because, well, it just slipped my mind.  That’ s how unimportant it is to me. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all. I just needed another reason to say we’re dating.”

It was a week later and it was lunchtime at the hospital. After 3 weeks of spending every spare moment together, LJ Spellman and Peter Watson are very happy because last night they both decided that they were officially dating.

“My family is very important to me.” LJ told Peter as the 2 doctors sat down with their food trays. “In fact,” LJ reached into her pocket and fished out her wallet. “I always have this with me.” LJ said as she placed the photo in the middle of the table and slid it over to Peter. “See the tall guy with the black hair in the middle there? That’s my father, Faustus.”

 “I had no idea you had such a big family.” Peter said, studying the picture.

 “It’s not that big. It just looks like it because we have the whole gang here.” LJ got up and went closer to Peter to guide him through the picture. “I’m 1 of 4 children. The girl with the platinum hair here,” LJ pointed, “is my older sister, Prudence. The boy next to my father is my twin brother, Jake and this is Cordelia, my baby sister. And this is Zelda, my stepmother-“

Peter frowned. “You have a stepmother? Ug, I’m so sorry. I’ve 2 stepmothers of my own and, well, there a reason why they called evil stepmothers.”

LJ shook her head. “I’m sorry if you had some bad experiences, but it’s not like that for me. Zelda is wonderful, in fact- “LJ sighed, how to explain the insanity cure to a mortal? “Look, I know how insane this will sound, but I swear to you that all of it is true.”

“Okay,” Peter said slowly.

“Jake and I were babies when we were kidnapped by a…would-be cult leader.” LJ continued. “The man was insane and sexiest. He taught us all the wrong values. Thankfully, when we were 16, Jake and I were returned to our father. It wasn’t easy having to relearn almost everything and basically how the real world worked. But our father was there for us every step of the way. So was Zelda. I was so mean to her in the beginning but she refused to give up on me or Jake. Whatever or whenever we needed her, she was there. Even though she had a 5 month old at home and a whole school to run, she was never to busy to help us or hold us, whatever we needed. Zelda wanted to adopt Jake and me right from the start but she waited until we wanted it too.  Our birth mother died in childbirth, so Zelda is the only mom Jake and I have ever known.”

Peter was impressed. “Wow, I’m sorry for my earlier comments. You obviously love Zelda very, very much.”

LJ smiled and then pointed out the other people in the photo. Her Aunt Hilda, Uncle C and cousins, Ambrose and Sabrina.

“They all seem delightful. When can I met them?”

LJ blinked. “You want to meet my family?”

“Yeah, I want to find out for myself if they’re as cool as you” Peter said before kissing her.

  Early the next morning, Faustus was at his desk when Nina came in and without a single word, closed the door and sat in his lap!

“You’ve been holding out on me.” Nina sing songed.

Meanwhile, Faustus could barely be bothered to look up from his work. “No, I’m not.  As I told you before, your makeshift desk is over there” Using his pencil, Faustus pointed to the corner “and if you require a new chair, I suggest you get yourself one.”

“No, it’s not about that. You told me that you were happily married. You lied, Fausty.”

“No, I did not.  And don’t call me Fausty, ever!”

“But you did lie,” Nina insisted. “I asked around and that is how I learned that you are famous or should I say I infamous, for cheating on your wife.”

Faustus made a face. “You asked? Who did you ask?”

“You know, just around town.”

Faustus was furious, standing up and Nora rolled off him and would have crashed to the floor if she hadn’t awkwardly grabbed the desk.

“Where do you get off?” Faustus demanded. “Running around town, asking everyone about my personal business!”

“Look, I’ve respected your marriage up until now- “

“Are you kidding me? In the 3 weeks that we have shared this classroom, all you ever do is come on to me, shamelessly flirt with me, use any excuse to bump or brush up against me and talking in double meanings. Often in front of our students, 1 of which is my own daughter!”

“I won’t tell your wife, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Faustus sighed deeply. This was truly like talking to a brick wall. Actually, the brick wall would be more of an upgrade. “I don’t care if you talk to my wife because there’s nothing to tell her.”

Nina shook her head. “That’s not what I heard, and you know the saying, once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“I’m no longer a cheater! I am not that man anymore!” Faustus declared. “And comparing my 1st marriage to my second is as pointless as comparing day and night. Judging from that look on your face, I can tell that you didn’t know that I’ve been married twice, which proves just how little know about me.”

“Then why don’t enlighten me?” Nina came closer.

“Fine!  But because it’s almost class time and I have no desire to tell you my life story so let me give you the cliff notes. I was blackmailed into my 1st marriage.  Since we met less than a month before our wedding, I didn’t even know Constance when we got married and when we did get to know each other, I didn’t like her. Yes, I cheated on her, a lot, because I was so unhappy. I was trapped in a   marriage I never wanted. My faith doesn’t allow for divorce and worse of all, I had to sit by and watch as the only woman I’ve ever love go out with men that were beneath her.  Aside from my twin children, nothing good came out of my marriage with Constance. When she died, I was finally free to marry my Zelda and it was the best thing I ever did.  It’s been 13 years and I still thank all the stars in the sky every day for that woman and the family she gave me. My marriage to Zelda has given me a happiness that I never knew existed. I used to think that you needed power to be happy, not so. As long as I know my children are safe and I get to wake up next to Zelda each morning, I am perfectly content. You see, Zelda is my very best friend as well as the love of my life and I would never do anything to willing hurt her. For I would be completely lost without her.”

Nina crossed her arms. “You told me about yourself. Now, let me tell you about me. Back in New York, I’m considered a legend. Once I’m interested in someone, that’s it. He’s mine. A man has never refused to share my bed.”

“Well, you know the saying, there’s a 1st time for everything.” Faustus returned.

Nina sighed as she unbuttoned half her top, exposing her bra. “Does this give you any ideas?”

“You know, it does.”

Finally! Nina thought as she smiled, closed her eyes and puckered up for a kiss. Only there was no kiss, and Nina could only feel a tiny movement of fabric. She opened her eyes to see Faustus now had his back to her. She looked down to see that he had buttoned her blouse back up. She was going to call out to him when the bell rang and the children flooded in. After attendance, Nina had an announcement.

“As I told you on Monday, your request to do a new play has been approved. After taking your suggestions all week, I’ve decided to go with the Warner girls’ and Ms. Reed’s idea.”

At her desk, Cordelia frowned. She had no idea that they had submitted a play idea, and the triplets used to tell her everything.

“As per their suggestion,” Nina continued. “we will be doing a watered down version of The Crucible by Arthur Miller. For those of you not in the know, this play is about the Salem witch trials.”

That is when Faustus and Cordelia sighed and buried their faces in their hands at the exact same time.

[soimarriedayuki]

Reminders for myself

It is by no means a shockingly new piece of information for those that know me well. I do however have a little secret. I am terrible at remembering something as basic as eating. 

I can provide regular meals for everyone else. Organise preparations times and stagger the eating times and dietary requirements for others in the house perfectly. For myself that is not the case at all. 

This is where you find me doing something that to an outsider maybe at best makes me look like a food blogger and at worst like a... well my husband is here so he will no doubt find the worst description for me.

*

“You want me to try to text you and remind you to get food today?” He asks dumping his plate in the sink so it can be cleaned with the rest of the dishes.

“No need I would hate to be a burden while you are working.” Toaster pops and i grab the toast putting it on a new dish beside me as i finish cooking what’s in the pan on the stove.

“It’s more of a burden if you collapse at home Dummy.” He continues to huff. Its sweet honestly but ever since he discovered i ended up not eating for a day and a half before i realised he turned into my mother. “So?”

“Mm?” I tip the scrabbled eggs, ham and peas on top of my toast and then carry it to the table to eat brunch. Yes i did forget my own breakfast again. Don’t tell him, he will only worry more.

“You want me to text you or not?” He pushes again grabbing a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and pouring himself a glass.

“I’m going to say not.” Taking my phone i ended up opening up the camera and taking a picture of my plate before putting the phone away again and starting to eat.

“Well now what are you doing?” His eyes are practically bugging out of his head. Its amusing to see usually it only happens if i force some sort of PDA on him. 

Not something I would tend to do a lot of as I personally am as weirded out about it as he is. the difference is I don’t flush like a sun-dried tomato and raise my voice like a school girl that just got a love note.

“I tried setting alarms and leaving notes where i would see them. Now I’m trying something else.” Finding that to be explanation enough at least in my own mind i continued to eat.

“What you gonna do start a blog? ‘Weird shit i made that looks terrible but i eat it anyway’.” He laughed at his own joke. It was a good thing really as I certainly wasn’t going to laugh at it for him. 

He means well and he is usually very supportive to an annoying degree but he does have a tendency of being blunt to the point of obnoxious.

“What a charming idea I may have to consider it.” My level tone probably gave away my displeasure at his attempt of humour. 

“What?” He stopped laughing and his hand paused in picking up his glass of juice again. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he caught up with what he had just said verses how it sounded. 

“My food isn’t terrible. Anyway you eat it and plenty have said it looks and tastes fantastic.” I shrug getting up to pour a glass of water.

“Yes but that is the food you serve to others. The food you eat looks like someone threw everything including the kitchen cupboard in the oven.” 

I can’t say he is wrong. When it comes to cooking for others its more of a pleasure than a task. cooking for myself was always a hassle and a chore. Naturally at some point I ended up plating dishes for others in a way that looked appealing and then just dumping whatever i had for myself into a big pile. 

“It all tastes the same to me. As long as it isn’t fish related and therefore going to kill me i don’t have preferences over what dish i would eat.” Sitting back down i could see him already nodding in agreement. 

“I know.”

“What’s wrong you look ill?”

He wasn’t exactly smiling and he wasn’t really angry either. His face had become pale though as he watched my hands move, cutting up my food.

“I was remembering that noodle thing you did the other day. You have a cast iron stomach.” The sight of him wincing nearly made me laugh. 

“There was nothing wrong with my chilli noodles with fried eggs and broccoli.” 

“There was nothing right about it either.” His response reminded me of when he was younger adamant in his refusal to try something when we were all ordering take out together as a group of friends for game night saying we’d share. 

“You always were a fussy eater.”

“Look i don’t mind noodles. I don’t like broccoli and i can eat fried eggs.” He tried to breakdown my meal to prove he wasn’t as bad as i made him out to be. 

“Well i did give you the option of joining me.” I calmly pointed out what should have been a logical point. If he had dais he was eating with me i would have cooked the broccoli separately and just handed him noodles and egg. 

“I am no suicidal! I saw how much chilli powder, sauce and flakes you put in that thing. The heat in it could have kicked started a dragon.” 

“I found it mild to be honest.” 

“You taste buds are-- actually do you even have any?” He was becoming animated which proved he was actually enjoying this back and forth between us regardless of what his frowning face would have you believe. 

“Of course I do. How else do you think i can cook the food you want to eat? King of Bland sitting over there on his judgemental high horse.” I put the last mouthful in my mouth and then picked up the dishes placing them in the sink.

“At least the food I eat Tiny enjoys too.” He puffed out his chest as if that fact somehow had bestowed a medal of honour on him.

“That is because you have the diet of a toddler.” My words had the affect of deflating him before he could puff up anymore. 

“Come on you gonna tell me why you are taking photos of your food?” 

Seeing him unwilling to let this go I relented and started to explain as i cleared the table.

“I am starting a food diary.”

“With photos?” He put down his juice and got up helping put away the salt and pepper. 

“Yes. Because I don’t get hungry like others seem too and i can never remember what I have eaten throughout the day i decided to take photos of it so i can review it later.” I picked up the jam and butter handing them over to him as he was closer to the fridge anyway. 

“So... after the alarms and notes you think that this is going to work better?”

“Well i have never lost my phone.” I shrug then turned my back on him and started to run the tap for hot water.

“Except for the time you left it in the freezer...” He probably thought I would miss his quiet voice. He was certainly shocked when i replied to it. 

“I was pregnant when that happened and I found it quickly enough.”

“Only after making me call it.” He leaned back against the wall of the kitchen and picked up his juice again. He was wearing a very annoyingly cute smile on his face now. 

“Dear, I realise that you are a very devoted sort but don’t you have someone else you should go and anno-- spend some time with?” I tested the water with my hand and pushed the plug into the sink letting it fill up.

“Tiny is playing in her room.” 

“You could go join her.”

“It’s make up.” He sounded disappointed. He had been working all week and one of the things he enjoyed was spending time with her when he got a day off. 

Tiny has been becoming older now and her focus is shifting from just games to play with Daddy to dress up and make up. I’m not what you would ever call a girly girl but if ever there was one it was our child. Karma is a funny thing isn’t it?

“Your point being?”

“Fine but if i come out looking like a clown--” 

“I would struggle to tell the difference.” I mutter taking up the dish soap and sponge. 

“What was that?” He was on his way out when he stopped. I seemed to have miscalculated that just as much as he had with that phone in the freezer factoid.

“Nothing dear. Go play with your daughter I have to do the dishes.” 

Without looking at him I just acted as if nothing had happened and he left the kitchen looking slightly confused.

---

[blackbatpurplecat]

Catwoman 80th Anniversary

In 1940, one of the now most popular comic book heroes of all time got his very first solo run. It would become a milestone in comic book history. But he wasn’t the only one who had a chance to shine. In that premiere issue, even TWO of his most famous antagonists would be introduced: The man who laughs and the woman who steals.

That woman was intended to become the love of the hero’s life. The good guy and the naughty girl, the appeal was palpable. However, she wasn’t just a love interest or a generic thief or only another villain in the ever growing gallery of rogues the hero would face over decades to come, no - she was quite the character.

Her first alias was “The Cat” which would ultimately become Catwoman. Selina Kyle, the best thief in the world, a literal cat burglar, a classy seductress and queen of sass. And fans loved her so much that over time, she grew to become just as famous as the hero.

Her story has had its ups and downs. Mostly ups. ;) Going from the pages of the comics to the little and the big screen in the 60s, then she disappeared for a while, then made a comeback. She married the hero and had a child, though that marriage was later rebooted and was followed by a depressing origin story a sexist author made up for her in the 80s.

The 90s then turned out to be her decade! She found herself on the TV screen again, animated this time. She was portrayed by a Golden Globe winner on the big screen again. And she finally got her very own solo run in comics.

Her solo title was successful enough to run for over 20 years, a time in which her development from antagonist to anti-heroine would pan out. She would be a member of several teams, dance on both sides of the law, and even have another child. The screen called her back in form of a movie and a tv show. In one she was a thief with a love for killing, in the other a teenager. And we already know that her movie career will soon continue with two more projects.

In 2016, DC rebooted their entire universe. Catwoman’s origin story was changed, her relationships were lost, her solo run got canceled. No one knew what was real anymore - and fans didn’t like it. Only a year later, a retcon followed in a pathetic attempt to restore a status quo fans were familiar with and approved of. Even her solo run came back and today, in June 2020, we celebrate her 80th anniversary!

Catwoman is my favorite DC character ever. She’s clever, she’s funny, she’s stubborn, she’s classy, she’s confident, she plays by her own rules. When written right, she is such an entertaining character, unpredictable and fun.

In 80 years, there have been countless appearances, so many incarnations and interpretations of her - sure, I didn’t like all of them but you can say there’s something for each one of us. You don’t like her in the 2010s? Check out the 90s. You don’t like her in the 40s? Check out the 80s. There’s a version of Catwoman for many different tastes. She never goes out of fashion.

So to celebrate one of DC’s most famous women, they published a collection of 10 stories in total, written and drawn by people who have had touched her character over the past years.

Did Catwoman 80th Anniversary - Celebrating Eight Decades of Beauty and Burglary do her justice?

Warning: Spoilers!

Let’s check out each story and see what the writers came up with for this very special occasion. Except for one, none of these are meant to be canon, it’s just a collection of shorts meant to emphasise why Catwoman is so good. Something I noticed was that each writer had not picked any Catwoman to write but “their” Catwoman. A nice detail. Consistency, why not? Write what you feel comfortable and familiar with. This can only help with the quality of the stories, right? ... Right? ...

Strap in folks, this is going to be a LOOOOONG post!

Story #1: Skin the Cat by Paul Dini

Selina’s just living her normal life with her cats, occasionally stealing some money and jewels. Hey, a girl’s gotta eat. ;) What catches her attention are news reports about stolen big cats. I’m a cat lover myself and this series of crimes would worry me just as much as it worries Selina. She deduces where in Gotham someone could hide those wild cats, breaks in, and is welcomed by an eerie voice - as well as the taxidermied cats. Fucking bastard... The villain Taxidermist, quelle surprise, is behind the cat murders. He now intends to gas Selina and add her to his cat collection but Selina reveals that she’d already turned off the gas before breaking in. She escapes his long knives and watches as three big cats she had brought with her attack and kill him.

What an intro! A story about Selina’s love for cats and her strategic thinking. I really liked the first half! But once the Taxidermist shows up, it loses itself in drawn out exposition. Selina goes on a long monologue to explain to the reader who the Taxidermist is, how she knew it was him, how she turned off the gas, and how she replaced three of the dead cats with alive ones. I would have preferred to actually SEE her preparations for the face-off in flashback panels instead of having to read it. It didn’t feel natural at all. Also how the fuck did she bring 3 wild cats and switch them for the stuffed ones?! How?! And when?! I’m also quite sad that she didn’t get to save the cats. That was a bummer. So all she basically did was bring 3 big cats to kill a killer.

The art’s gorgeous, nothing else to say here!

6/10

Story #2: Now You See Me by Ann Nocenti

Ann Nocenti’s name immediately made me go uh-oh... Her bad and convoluted writing style made readers drop the Catwoman books which eventually lead to the solo run’s cancelation so you can understand why I was concerned.

So Catwoman is hiding a little pouch in a pigeon loft on a roof while pondering who to sell her stolen goods to - as well as where to vacation afterwards. She then notices a surveillance camera. The scene cuts to two cops on surveillance duty. They’re both bored as hell so when one spots Selina, he quickly distracts his colleague and leaves to find her. He takes the pouch out of the pigeon loft and a fight between him and Catwoman ensues. He reveals that he wants to become her partner. He wants to feed her any intel he can see on his screens so she could steal and sells some goods, and they’d split the money. When Selina refuses, he tries to blackmail her into complying. Selina presses a button on a little device and whatever’s in the pouch the cop sacked, explodes, sending him over the edge. Luckily, he lands on an umbrella Penguin had sent off apparently because we see him in one panel, angered that his plan was foiled. I’m not entirely sure what his “brilliant plan” was supposed to be. Something with gas tanks that were strapped to the umbrella I assume? I have no idea.

This one is missing too much context for my taste. What was in the pouch? Did the explosion kill the guy? What was Penguin doing there? What was his plan? Why did we need the second cop? For a super obvious but unnecessary parallel between Catwoman vs. corrupt cop and random woman vs. random man on one of the surveillance screens? Why give Catwoman so little “screen time” and so little dialogue? Is this short story referencing anything from Nocenti’s awful run and I just forgot? To quote Val Kilmer Batman: “It just raises too many questions.”

The art’s okay, nothing too special.

3/10

Story #3: Helena by Tom King

Oh boy. This is the big one. The one everyone’s been waiting for, I guess. The man who not so long ago had promised us a BatCat wedding just to shove a huge middle finger in our faces, promised us a pregnant Selina this time. I was skeptical of course. Also other readers were convinced he’d just let Selina have a miscarriage. Well, the good news is it wasn’t a miscarriage. The bad news is he almost makes Selina seem like she would have preferred a miscarriage.

The story goes like this: Selina hasn’t been feeling well so instead of going to a doctor like a normal person, Bruce scans her head and checks her vitals and blood (I can only assume because we’re not shown). Selina’s convinced that she’s seriously ill but a gentle, hopeful smile on Bruce’s face reveals the actual truth: She is pregnant. And her first reaction is shock and denial. We cut to BatCat fighting Tweedledum and Tweedledee (I think, you can’t really see them but the two men they knock out look identical). Selina then bends over and says that she’s about to throw up. Followed by a Batbucket joke. I’m getting so tired of all the forced self-awareness, guys. We cut to Catwoman, now sporting a baby bump underneath the skin-tight leather, sitting on a roof. She prepares a glass of wine while telling the baby that it is just like Bruce and it’s such a dick for taking away her freedom. After one sip, she chucks the glass away and curses. We’re then treated to a montage of BatCat fighting several rogues while Selina’s belly grows with each panel until it’s an 8, maybe 9 months along belly. I... I have no words. Except for yes, this was written by a man. BatCat are then standing on a roof and Selina laments that she’s a thief, not a mother, and the baby will derail her life and plans. The scene switches to Bruce and Selina in bed, arguing because she’s in labor. Bruce is ready to roll while Selina is STILL in denial, crying that she’s not a mother, that she’s not a hero or a good and brave person like him. Bruce tells her she didn’t run off so that means she’s a good person and they agree that it’s time to have the baby. Another cut to Selina having to take care of a crying baby Helena, asking why she’s crying when it’s Selina’s turn to stay at home and not Bruce’s. Selina talks to Helena, saying she’s luckier than Selina was because Selina’s mom ran off. She fucking FINALLY says something nice about her own child (”You’re a cute little kitten.”) and wonders what they’re going to do with her. The last page is old Selina and grownup Helena after Bruce’s death. Selina’s complaining about the pretty cemetery while Helena likes it. Her daughter’s ability to not shit on just everything and not be a total killjoy all the time causes Selina to say again that Helena is like Bruce. Upon Helena’s question if she’s anything like her mother, Selina answers that she’s just as stubborn as her. If she wants something, she steals it. Helena asks what she ever stole and Selina delivers the last predictable cliche of the story: “You stole my heart.”

Ugh. King’s Selina is just such a boring read. She’s not charming or interesting or sympathetic. Maybe I’m too used to a fun Selina but this one’s just a drag. A heavily pregnant Catwoman fighting Joker, yeah sure, totally not absolute bullshit. And the way Selina keeps distancing herself from the child inside her? For over 9 months?! Is she going out in that ridiculous catsuit because she wants to cause a miscarriage, is that it? So she doesn’t have to make a decision like abortion, adoption or leaving the baby with Bruce? Her constant cussing over the situation and crying and whining turns the pregnancy of my favorite DC couple into such a depressing ordeal.

The art is very pretty! Thank God.

4/10

Story #4: The Catwoman of Earth by Jeff Parker

After the depressing pregnancy of Catwoman, we switch to the wacky 60s version of her. Catwoman and her henchmen are robbing a science fair when suddenly, a UFO arrives. WTF?! Four aliens and a robot are beamed down to the surface and the group’s leader, an arrogant jock-like guy proclaims that they will take over the planet and enslave humanity. Catwoman angrily stands up to him. Turns out the evil aliens are sexist too when the male one tells Catwoman females have to ask for permission to speak and the female alien in the group unhappily agrees. The jock alien tells the muscly male alien to dispose of Catwoman but she’s not easy to dispose of! She fights off the brawler, she cuts the tentacles off the tentacle alien (someone WILL jerk off to that one panel), dodges the jock’s laser gun, steals the laser gun with her whip, shoots the robot to bits, and lets the police take the males away. The female alien seems much happier now and invites Catwoman to a flight around the world in the UFO. Catwoman suggests a trip to Paris so she can loot the Louvre.

Aliens and Catwoman don’t mix. I didn’t really care for this story. I mean it’s great to see Catwoman in action and taking down four guys on her own but... aliens and Catwoman just don’t mix. It was a bit jarring to me. Also the aliens’ designs weren’t super interesting. They were basically pink elves.

The art is beautiful. Catwoman looks like Julie Newmar and the entire color scheme is very 60s.

4/10

Story #5: A Cat of Nine Tales by Liam Sharp

Catwoman’s caught stealing a diamond necklace by an armed security guard. He seems a bit scared of her but knows it’s his job to stop her. She’s not engaging in a fight - of course not, he has a gun pointed at her! So instead, Catwoman relies on her talking skills. And intimidation skills. She tells the guard that there are 9 ways their situation could play out: 1. The guard lets her tie him up and escape with the necklace. 2. She beats his ass. 3. He kills her. 4. She scratches his eyes out. 5. He slips and gets knocked out. 6. He fires his gun, misses her, and the bullet ricochets until it kills him.  7. They team up. 8. She gives up. 9. She kills him. However, the story ends with the guard fainting because Catwoman’s just so damn scary.

Very short, very simple. Even the art is simple, on one page there are 3 very similar panels with only minor changes. Nothing memorable but not too bad. It shows how Catwoman can take someone out even without touching them. It’s okay.

The art reminds me of a comic from the 80s or maybe 90s. Hard to describe why. Guess you have to see it. Again, it’s okay.

5/10

Story #6: Little Bird by Mindy Newell

Selina learns from a news report that a priceless mezuzah has been found at a flea market. It’s currently at the Jewish Museum of Gotham City and Selina immediately steals it. Later, Batman shows up at her place and asks why she wants the mezuzah. She doesn’t give him much of an answer so he leaves. Pretty pointless scene I would say. A flashback reveals that a young Selina used to live with a Jewish lady. I dunno, I guess she’s a foster mother? And the woman liked Selina so much and considered her family so she gave her that mezuzah to pass it on to her own kids one day (even though Selina doesn’t want kids, is not related to the lady, and isn’t Jewish). Back to the present, Selina’s punishing a client. That prostitute background made an unwanted comeback for this story because Selina’s resisting and denying herself love so she’s “whoring”, to prove to herself how despicable she is. Okay...? There’s an inner turmoil going on, she’s torn between selling the artefact or not. Eventually, she decides to bring the mezuzah back to the lady she used to live with. The lady’s grown old and demented, lives in a home and is at the verge of dying. Selina places an envelop between the lady’s hands and leaves. The home’s director finds the envelop which contains the mezuzah, an official document which basically ensures that the lady will be taken care of before and after her death, and a poetic note from Selina.

My least favorite story out of them all - and that is quite an accomplishment when there are King and Nocenti in the same book! It had that Frank “I’m an insane sexist racist asshole” Miller prostitute bullshit in it and Selina hating herself again. This time, the “whoring” (and this word is not me, it’s from the actual story) is used as a way of self-punishment. Because it’s disgusting and wrong and Selina only does it to torture herself. Dunno if that’s the right message you wanna send here... The Jewish lady was kinda random to me because Selina’s not Jewish and never has been Jewish. This is not a negative point, it’s just so random. And the Batman scene was pointless, I have no idea what purpose it served. Except for showing us Batman pay Selina like a john and having Selina make jokes about “whoring.” Ugh.

The art was great, very clean.

1/10

Story #7: Born to Kiln by Chuck Dixon

Going from my least favorite to my favorite story in this book!

Catwoman knows there’s a diamond in a safe on a boat that is set to leave the harbour in the morning. So she climbs aboard at night to steal the gem. She finds several dead sailors and they’re all covered in mud. Who could have done this? Yes, you guessed right - it’s Clayface! He’s already at the safe, opens it, and retrieves the big stone. Catwoman reveals herself and aims a fire hose at him. Her confidence, however, dies the moment the hose doesn’t work. Clayface swallows the diamond and starts chasing after her. There’s apparently a machine to spray-paint cars on the boat so she lures him inside, activates the paint to blind him, and the hot lamps for the drying process immobilise the big pile of mud. Now that he’s nothing more than hard clay, Catwoman takes a wrench to him and takes the freed diamond.

FINALLY a story I really, really like from beginning to end! First off, IT’S PURPLE CATWOMAN!!! Selina is wearing my favorite costume, the iconic Jim Balent suit from her 90s solo run in this story - and I LOVE IT!!! Yeah, her boobs are quite loose in it and sometimes dangle in strange ways but fuck it! LOL I prefer hanging boobs over a tight corset that should reduce her agility or a back breaking pose anytime! We get sneaky Selina, we get playful Selina, we get over confident Selina who has to think fast and run even faster, and she gets what she wants in the end without killing anyone.

The art is gorgeous! It’s very fluid and alive. I also absolutely adore the cute facial expressions on Kitten’s face, especially when she locks Clayface in. I miss Catwoman being fun. In this, she’s just adorable and not sexualised at all.

8/10

Story #8: Conventional Wisdom by Will Pfeifer

Selina finds herself at a Bat Con and is supposed to give autographs. The whole scenario seems weird and confusing to her, she doesn’t remember how she got there or what is going on. Bruce, Joker, Riddler, and Two-Face being there with her to give autographs is even weirder. And why does no one except for her react to that unconscious, bloody man on the floor?! On her way to her panel, she runs into several cosplayers which is basically only fan service. But you will find the male, dark-skinned version of me at her panel, asking when the fuck she will finally put that 90s suit back on!!! The dialogues keep breaking the fourth wall, pointing out that this story is about to end. One of the panel’s attendees looks like Marvel’s Taskmaster and another is Selina herself in her Catwoman suit. Selina slowly remembers what happened: The Taskmaster dude is Doctor Destiny, she broke into his lair and stole his reality distorter, a little machine she’s been carrying around for the entire story. She smashes the machine to wake up back in the lair and cracks her knuckles, ready to take down Doctor Destiny and his goons.

And it was all a dream! That twist has never been a favorite of mine. Even though it’s not really a twist; you know immediately that it’s a dream. We don’t learn anything new about Selina or see anything Catwoman-y in this. It’s really basically fan service. They wanted Selina to see and interact with real life fans of hers so they made it happen. She also comments on various versions of her costume. It’s cute but kinda forgettable.

The art is good, it’s rare to see light and bright colors in a Catwoman book so it was a nice change. And the cosplayers looked nice. But they could have used different body types to make the fans more diverse and visually appealing.

3/10

Story #9: Addicted to Trouble by Ram V

And here we are, the premiere of the duo that will take over Catwoman’s current solo run from #23 onward. We get a first taste of the writing and art and I must say it’s a good taste.

This short story serves as a continuation of Joelle Jones’ #21 issue where at the end of the arc, Selina and her sister Maggie left Gotham in a purple car. So we see a short recap of how they got the car and where they were headed but unfortunately, the engine dies. They hitchhike to Memphis. Selina’s frustrated that Maggie doesn’t talk to her. They get drunk and start a fight at a bar. The cops show up and arrest them. While sitting in the back of the cop car, the girls start laughing together and steal the car. They leave behind their luggage which only contains stuff they won’t miss - including Selina’s cat funeral dress. They drive back to Gotham, Selina steals food and drinks on the way, and they cuddle on a rooftop overlooking the city. The story cuts to Selina and Leandro, a character I would know if I had continued the Jones run. She tells him she wants to lay low for a while and stay out of trouble. When he asks “Oh? Really?”, Selina throws a naughty smile towards the reader. Yeah yeah, lay low my ass. :D

First off, I have no idea what happened before the road trip, I don’t know why they took it or why Maggie doesn’t talk or what the purpose of all of this was because all they do is get drunk, fight an entire bar, and go back. No idea what that accomplished. And I feel sorry for the car because it was so gorgeous. Anyway, I am happy to say that Ram V has a great writing style! He gave a good voice to Selina, it sounded very natural and like a human would talk, no forced exposition or fake deepness.

The art was good, there were a few expressive faces and the bar fight was well executed.

5/10 (because I don’t know the context)

Story #10: The Art of Picking A Lock by Ed Brubaker

Instead of ending with a transition to the next Catwoman issue (which I would have preferred), the collection offers one more story and it’s written by the man who successfully handled the second half of Selina’s first solo run. He turned her stories more into the film noir direction and gave her sidekicks. The run also gave her a fugly suit and made her have sex with old men and Brubaker wanted to kill her off and have her not know who the father to her unborn child was so... yeah, I’m torn about that guy.

The last story shows us Catwoman breaking into a warehouse full of Joker goons while thinking about the thrill of breaking locks and how she learned how to do it when she was at a juvenile detention center. She beats them all up and demands to know where “he” is. Later, her friend Holly is on a motorcycle chasing after a cab while Catwoman is riding on top of a subway. Both reach Gotham’s harbor. We see that the cab is filled with Joker gas and the driver is laughing maniacally. Holly can’t reach the cab in time and it drives off into the water. Catwoman swings down and jumps after it. She breaks the trunk open and reveals a handcuffed Slam Bradley. Cut to the three back on dry land. Holly chides him for going after Joker alone and not waiting for backup. He admits that it was dumb, then shares intel on where Joker will strike and Selina should tell “her friend.” She says she will and Slam ends the book with the words that he could really use a cigarette. NO, this book was not that good that it would warrant a cigarette at the end!

This short obviously takes place during the second half of the first solo run. We see Catwoman in action, that’s cool. Taking down almost a dozen of armed Joker henchmen, that’s pretty badass! And a woman saves the man damsel in distress at the end, that’s a nice ending as well. However, I don’t care about the costume so the visual appeal wasn’t there and I really don’t care about Slam Bradley so the reveal at the end was pretty ugh to me.

The art is great! It’s like a modernised/smoother version of Darwyn Cooke’s style, the artist Brubaker worked on the Catwoman title in the 00s with. So that gives it a pretty nostalgic feel. 

5/10

In addition to the 10 stories we’ve now covered, there are pages to show off the Catwoman costumes of each decade as well as pinups. The costume pages are designed in the decade’s style (the 40s are black and white, the 60s psychedelic etc). But what I don’t get about the 90s one: It’s purple Catwoman grayed out in the background and gray BTAS Catwoman in color in the foreground - why make the purple outfit gray when you have an already gray outfit?! Just switch them! Also who put together the 70s one, couldn’t they find better costume examples?!

The seven pinups are pretty, unfortunately the majority feature the black outfits. I was surprised that even Tim Sale drew the black costume and not the purple one from his Long Halloween series. We get one of the gray BTAS costume and Jim Balent thankfully gives us BatCat with his purple creation. Nice!

Well, looking back at my personal scores for this collection of stories, Catwoman’s anniversary issue reached a total of 44/100 points in my book. Wow. That’s... not that good.

Most of the stories ranged from average to bad. Nothing spectacular, nothing memorable. There’s a lack of witty dialogue, Catwoman’s rarely fun to watch. In six stories she’s seen fighting, in three she’s seen being chased so I’m missing the variety here. I would assume you can do more with Catwoman than that. She often rather fights instead of using her wits and smarts. And actual cats are only featured in two stories but in one they die and in the other, Selina says she should drown them. -_- 

A collection of 10 new stories was a great idea but celebrating the character this is not. I’m happy that the next writer for Catwoman left a positive impression on me and the story feat. Balent’s Catwoman was a delight. However, the writers didn’t really bring their “A” game for this anniversary issue which is disappointing.

Would I recommend it? Hmmm. It pains me to say: not really, no. You don’t miss much by skipping it. You don’t miss sassy lines or breathtaking art, you don’t miss out on funny scenes or emotional depth. This anniversary issue is merely average and I highly doubt I’ll go back to reread it.

(a huge THANK YOU to everyone who read this entire, way too long post! i highly appreciate it 💜you’re a real trooper!)

[mostweakhamlets]

Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils

Finally a full fic to this post

Summary: Aziraphale has a popular cooking show on the internet. Crowley dedicates part of his garden to the hobby, growing herbs and berries. Crowley also struggles to handle life after the apocalypse. Established relationship. South Downs fic. Features PTSD.

On AO3

By autumn, Crowley’s garden was beginning to die. He thought about yelling at them to keep growing past the season, but Aziraphale had gently reminded him that they had neighbors who most likely did not want to be disturbed any further by his plant discipline. Crowley didn’t necessarily care what the humans thought when he was in his garden, but he cared about Aziraphale’s desire to be good neighbors. So, he let his plants naturally wilt.

He had only a few handfuls of herbs that were salvageable. He was disappointed, but he wouldn’t let the plants know that right then. In a few weeks, he’d uproot them and let them think about their actions in the trash bin.  

Crowley tucked the handle of his basket in the crook of his arm, holding his pruning shears and gloves in the opposite hand and pushing open the door of the cottage with his shoulder.

“And I’m very proud of all of you who are cooking for the first time,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley stepped into the kitchen. Aziraphale stood in front of their stove, his camera sitting just to the side. The aroma of fruit baking flooded the room and immediately Crowley felt indescribably warm. It wasn’t so much a physical warmth as much as it was emotional.

“I enjoy reading how you’re all doing with your first meals. You’re coming along wonderfully. I know that some of you feel as though you’re struggling, but if you keep at it, you’ll be able to look back and see how much you’ve improved.”

Crowley was about to pass behind Aziraphale, hoping he’d go unnoticed so that he could tend to his herb clippings in peace. But of course, Aziraphale turned to him as soon as he was close enough and pulled him in-frame.

Neither was sure why, but Crowley was painfully camera shy. Perhaps it was his fear that it was easy documentation for Above and Below in case they thought it was time to interfere again. It also could have been because whenever Crowley made a cameo in a video, viewers left a flood of adoring comments.

His husband is so sweet for growing everything for him!!

I wish I had a husband that helped me with my hobbies like this.

Anthony should be in more videos! I love seeing them together. It’s like their soulmates.

Since Aziraphale had introduced him to his audience as “Anthony,” they were just as interested in catching glimpses of him as they were watching Aziraphale’s newest recipes. Crowley had never been in such a position before. He was a demon. He was supposed to be hated by his peers and cause chaos for humans--and he had accomplished both with no problems. He wasn’t supposed to be liked.

He hadn’t been liked by so many others since he fell.

The only person who truly liked him was Aziraphale.

And if the humans watching those videos knew what Crowley really was, they wouldn’t be so eager to see him--to like him.

“Taste this, my dear,” Aziraphale said.

He held a spoonful of jam to Crowley’s lips with his free hand cautiously under it, ready to catch any dripping.

Crowley leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon.

“Do you like it?”

Crowley’s cheeks heated. He nodded.

Aziraphale rested his hand on Crowley’s waist.

“Thank you, my dear.”  

Most likely his shyness came from the small tender moments Aziraphale was not afraid of showing the world. It had been the topic of many long conversations after Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in St. James Park, causing Crowley to freeze and break out in a cold sweat. Being discreet had always been their top priority. For 6,000 years, someone would have surely seen them if they embraced in the middle of London. But now, Aziraphale had assured Crowley, things were different. They no longer needed to hide, but Aziraphale would go as slow as Crowley needed him to.

It was almost funny how their roles had switched after the apocalypse.

“You’re welcome, angel,” he mumbled.

Aziraphale smiled and let him go. There would be an offer later, like there always was, to delete whatever parts of the video Crowley was in.

Since the apocalypse and all the trouble that came with it, Crowley had been jumpy. He would wake in the middle of the night from nightmares. He would stop breathing if he saw a tall man with a square jaw in a gray suit (and though he didn’t need to breathe, it still felt wrong not being able to). But Aziraphale was always there to soothe him back to sleep or guide him away from the stranger that triggered such strong feelings. And every night he made a homemade meal, telling Crowley on bad days, “you’ll feel better if you eat.”

Crowley hated that he was always right.

Even if he picked at his dinner and had Aziraphale tut at him for only eating a few bites, Aziraphale was right.

“Now, if you don’t have a husband to give you feedback, you can be your own critic.”

Crowley shook his head as he laid his basket and tools on the countertop a safe ways away from the camera. He grabbed a handful of thyme, rinsing it and laying it on a clean towel. Aziraphale would decide what to do with it later.

“Remember that the food you make doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be loved.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. He grabbed basil.

Aziraphale’s videos were always met with overwhelming positivity. The viewers, when not writing about Crowley, wrote about how Aziraphale taught them what their parents hadn’t, how they were living on their own for the first time and were slowly learning how to support themselves, how they had had unhealthy relationships with food for years but Aziraphale was helping them change that. To any other demon, it would be sickening. But Crowley was proud of his angel.

Without Heaven, Aziraphale was still performing his good deeds with the freedom to add his own twist. Heaven would never approve of Aziraphale’s new hobby. They hated food. They hated Earthly pleasures. They wouldn’t be able to see that Aziraphale was a great angel when left to his own devices.

“My dear, are you ready for dinner?”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist.

“Is the camera off?”

Crowley hated how his voice sounded. It was quiet. It was meek.

“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale said. Crowley relaxed. “Dinner?”

“Let me finish this. I’ll only be a minute.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement and waited exactly three seconds before kissing Crowley’s neck. It wasn’t a sweet peck. It wasn’t a kiss that said: “this is the only place I can kiss you at the moment, but I don’t care because I love every inch of you.”

It was a kiss that Aziraphale knew would make Crowley’s knees go weak. He dropped his basil.

Aziraphale was also just enough of a bad angel to keep things interesting.

                                                            ~

It was the middle of December when the weather turned too cold for Crowley’s well-being.

Having been a snake, he still kept some of the traits. For starters, his yellow eyes were always going to be around. That he didn’t mind (Aziraphale told him multiple times he loved them). What he did mind was that when the cold crept through their cottage and assaulted him when he stepped outside, he grew sluggish and tired and found trouble eating. He really found trouble eating that winter.  

Aziraphale fussed over his cheekbones as they became gaunter. He touched Crowley’s hip bones, which protruded more than they had, and sighed. He caught Crowley when he swayed during a too-long fast and begged him to have a bite of something--just a bite--while he helped him sit.  

But they knew it wasn’t just the cold that had Crowley in such a state. He hadn’t been the sickly thin mess in winters previous.

It was the increasing panic attacks and restless nights and nightmares that angelic miracles couldn’t always stop. It was the awful anxiety that made Crowley’s hands shake and stomach cramp with nausea if he thought about holy water or Hellfire for too long. It was the absence of the relief they had expected South Downs to give them.

The cold just added more intensity to it. It was bad timing.

Aziraphale tucked a hot water bottle against Crowley before pulling the blankets close again. Crowley burrowed into his cocoon of quilts and Aziraphale’s sweater he had stolen weeks ago, curling around the new heat as it worked away aches. He was content where he was on the sofa, pleasantly drowsy and warm for once. He hadn’t moved since early that morning when he declared the spot as his when he stumbled down the stairs, exhausted after another sleepless night.

“Will I disturb you if I cook?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook his head. “Go for it, angel.”

“I’ll make your favorite. Maybe you’ll manage to eat in a couple of hours.”

Crowley didn’t bother hiding his smile. Despite his growing anxiety in the past few months, he found himself smiling more because with every bad moment there was Aziraphale being gentle and doting.

Aziraphale kissed him on the forehead and brushed his temple. “Rest for now. Have sweet dreams.”

And Aziraphale left with a little angelic magic beginning to settle over him.

Crowley closed his eyes, curling up as tight as he could. He could hear Aziraphale trying to be quiet in the kitchen, gently setting pots and pans down and arranging whatever else he was miracling into existence.

“This recipe is a little more challenging,” Crowley heard. “But I thought it would be perfect for the season. My dear husband is under the weather, and I expect many of you are as well right now. Or maybe you know someone who is, and you’d like to make them a meal.”

Crowley could imagine the comments pouring in the second Aziraphale would post the video. Humans were so pitying and adoring of others when they were ill. They’d praise Aziraphale for being so thoughtful. They’d hope for Crowley to recover. It would be, if Crowley were to be honest, disgusting.

“It’s a light soup, so it’s wonderful for someone who has a touch of influenza.”

But Aziraphale deserved that praise. It was the praise Crowley felt too exhausted to give. If he wasn’t sleeping (or laying in bed trying desperately to fall asleep) every second he could, he would write an entire book to Aziraphale, telling him how wonderful he was and how little Crowley deserved such a caring, attentive angel. Once spring came, he would start to rebuild his garden. He would make it bigger than the year before--more room for berries and herbs. He’d let Aziraphale have whatever he wanted. And maybe he’d yell at his plants less.

Or maybe not that last one.

They’d never grow without discipline.

“My dear Anthony loves this soup. He first tried it at the Ritz years ago. I remember the first time I tried making it for him…”

And that was why everyone loved Aziraphale’s videos. 10 minutes were dedicated to telling a story about when he ate the meal for the first time--usually with Crowley, usually not within the last 100 years. He kept certain details out. They didn’t want his audience to know that they were immortal beings.

Maybe Crowley would dig up the grass in the front of the cottage and put in flower beds. Flowers weren’t necessarily his thing, but Aziraphale always admired them on walks. He’d oh so gently touch the petals and lean in to smell them. He’d tell Crowley to do the same, and Crowley would find himself doing it just to humor his angel.

Crowley fell asleep thinking of daffodils lining the front door, listening to Aziraphale list ingredients.

He dreamt of guiding Aziraphale’s hands through the dirt and helping him place bulbs in neat lines. The sun beat down on them, and though Crowley couldn’t feel it, he welcomed it. Aziraphale’s smile was bright, and he was proud of the little mounds in the soil.

There was no more shaking hands or uneven breathing. Crowley felt well again. Aziraphale openly touched him as people walked by, and Crowley laughed when they joked about the dirt and grass stains on Aziraphale’s pale suit that he still insisted on wearing.

They moved to the kitchen where fresh vegetables awaited them. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands this time, helping him cut peppers and scrape out the seeds.

He woke up to Aziraphale leaning over him.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I lost track of time. This has gone cold.”

Aziraphale pulled the water bottle out of Crowley’s grip. It had turned cold, and Crowley could feel cramps returning.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Aziraphale lifted the blankets again to slide the water bottle--now satisfyingly burning as Crowley liked it--into Crowley’s waiting arms.

“I made you tea,” he said. “We still had just enough leaves left from when I made them a month ago.”

Crowley remembered the tea video. Aziraphale had felt adventurous and set out to cut up the herbs Crowley had been growing in their window sill (the only thing he could manage to grow in cold). The leaves turned out fine without any miracle, though Crowley’s plants saw better days after being butchered.

But the tea Aziraphale made from it was ridiculously amazing. It was earthy and rich. Every cup was perfect.

The newest steaming mug was right by Crowley’s head.

“I thought you might like it before we try dinner.”

Crowley sat up. He kept the water bottle close.

“How was filming?”

Aziraphale sat next to him. Crowley took advantage and rested against him. Much better than the water bottle.

“It was splendid. I’m thinking that everyone might be ready to try more complicated dishes. I’ll have to see what they think of this one. I know they’ll do their best, but there is no need to stress them out.”

Crowley had tried his hardest to explain that many of his viewers didn’t attempt every dish Aziraphale made and they didn’t watch them in chronological order. They simply watched because they were fond of him. But Aziraphale never seemed to understand, insisting that surely they must all be interested in cooking.

Crowley took a sip of his tea. The heat traveled down his throat to his stomach where it began easing knots.

“Remind me. Have you already made a video on crepes?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Of course, I have. It was one of the first. But they didn’t compare to what’s made in Paris. I gave a full disclaimer at the start of the video.”

“Oh, that’s right. I had to stop you from mentioning the Reign of Terror.” Crowley closed his eyes. “Mostly because humans frown upon people having happy memories of it.”

“It wasn’t as though I was talking about the revolution itself. Just the memories that coincidentally aligned with it. Dear, do try to stay awake long enough to eat. I’d love for you to have something tonight.”

Crowley hummed. “I’m not sleeping. Keep talking.”

Aziraphale was quiet, admitting his defeat to himself. Crowley would be asleep again within minutes.

“Anyways, I always tell them that the love surrounding the dishes is what makes it all the more special. That’s why it’s best to cook for someone you love…”

Crowley didn’t hear the rest of Aziraphale’s lecture. He returned to the summer garden.

                                                             ~

Spring was much kinder.

Crowley started his garden again.

He whispered a threat to every seed, telling them that they were for Aziraphale and therefore if they were a disappointment, the consequences would be dire. He had promised to stop yelling at the plants while he was outside in plain sight of passing neighbors. While Aziraphale made a list of the crops he’d like that year, he also made a list of conditions. Inside the cottage was fair game for yelling. All “punishments” had to be done in the shed. Crowley negotiated to be allowed to make an example of bad plants in front of the others at the beginning of the season (and since Aziraphale had never actually witnessed the “punishments” and was beginning to severely doubt that any true punishments were taking place, he allowed it).

Kneeling in front of the garden, detailing the many ways he learned to torture in Hell (a blatant lie as any demon who knew how often Crowley avoided seeing souls being tortured would tell you), he felt at peace. He heard Aziraphale step out the back door and smiled. His stomach flipped, but in a good way. He was excited to show Aziraphale the progress he had made and tell him about all the new plants they would have soon. He was excited to see Aziraphale clap his hands together and tell him how proud he was.

“Dear?”

Crowley turned around.

Aziraphale held the camera out. He had never learned how to zoom in and out and manually held the camera closer or further away instead.

“Angel,” Crowley whined, cheeks turning red.

He tried hiding his face, looking back down at the garden.

“Tell us what you’re doing,” Aziraphale said, sitting down in the grass next to Crowley.

“I’m starting the garden,” Crowley mumbled, still not facing the camera but not exactly minding it as much as he had in the past. “This is your bed. For all of, uh, the crops you need.”

“It’s looking wonderful, my dear. Almost as wonderful as you.”

Crowley didn’t want to imagine the blush the camera was picking up.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Aziraphale said, perhaps beginning to doubt his choice of surprising Crowley.

He began to stand. Crowley finally faced him.

“You don’t have to.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Do you really not mind?”

Crowley shook his head. He held his hand out. Aziraphale took it and sat back down.

“What are we growing this year, my love?”

Crowley’s chest tightened--but again, in a good way.

                                                                  ~

Crowley had just woken up. His new favorite part of summer was waking up to a breeze coming through the open windows and Aziraphale in the kitchen.

June had been treating the couple nicely. They began to enjoy walks through the town on sunny days, fingers laced together and nodding at neighbors who smiled at the eccentric couple who were finally debuting themselves. After their first walk, which included a short, polite yet nervous exchange of small talk with a neighbor about the weather, Aziraphale had kissed Crowley’s face a dozen times as he told him how proud he was. He had come a long way, Aziraphale told him.

Even the rainy days--and being in England, there were many--were beautiful for them. Crowley had grown to enjoy the sound of thunder, and Aziraphale was finding himself pleasantly pinned down by a sleeping Crowley on his lap more often.

Crowley made his way downstairs. He could smell whatever Aziraphale was baking, the sensation of warmth overcoming him as it always did.

“I understand it’s a special month for some of you, and I always see the comments thanking Anthony and me for being ourselves.”

Crowley stayed behind the wall of the hallway. He hadn’t realized Aziraphale was filming.

“I believe that we may have a little more history of rebelling than you’re all aware of. I’ve never acknowledged it before because, well, it is a bit difficult to bring up, but we do understand what it’s like to have to walk away from those who are supposed to be accepting of you. We have plenty of experience going against what we’ve been told is God’s plan, but we found ourselves happier doing so. And believe me, She doesn’t mind what humans are together romantically. I really don’t know where that rumor started.”

Crowley shook his head. To humans, Aziraphale sounded like a pious man that was very certain of his beliefs (and maybe a little crazy when he didn’t bother censoring himself as much as he should have).

“Nevertheless, it is hard to give it all up. You do lose a part of your identity and you have to rebuild that. And maybe Anthony knows a bit more about being rejected and falling--falling out with those who are supposed to love you, I mean.”

Crowley rested his head against the wall. It took a special demon to be a fallen angel and be a traitor to Hell.

“He has had an awfully rough time with it all, but he’s overcoming it. I’m very proud of him. He’s found where he truly belongs, and we’re both much happier.”

There was a pause.

“And the joy I feel being with him finally--here, in this little home we’ve made for ourselves--is indescribable. I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere else. I do hope the rest of you are able to find similar happiness.”  

Crowley changed his clothes and fixed his hair with a snap of his fingers.

“Anyways, that’s why I’ve decided that scones would be perfect this morning--”

Aziraphale was cut off by the weight of a demon crashing into him. Crowley spun him around and wrapped his arms around him, pressing their hips together.

“Good morning, angel.”

“Good morning, dear.” Aziraphale looked taken aback. “The camera is on--”

“Screw the camera.”

He pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, taking a long moment to savor it. Every anxiety-inducing thought of the wrong person watching them was momentarily gone. He didn’t care about the people on the other side of the screen. He only thought about holding Aziraphale right there.

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face and pulled away.

“I love you very dearly,” he said.

“I think I love you even more.”

Crowley kissed him again.

Aziraphale’s hands moved to Crowley’s shoulders, then his waist, then lower.

“Alright, camera has to go,” Crowley said, breathless.

A wave of his hand and Aziraphale turned off the camera and the oven.  

Truly an awful angel.

(These are the people who asked to be tagged/who I think wanted to be tagged

@frenchibi @thegryffindorbookworm @odysseyinink @misstylersmith @fairkid-forever @a-person-in-the-rain )

[amplesalty]

Halloween 2020 - Day 1 - The Stand (1994) - Episode 1 The Plague

Gee, an epic post-apocalyptic story about an out of control pandemic. Never heard that one before.

Much as we like to tie the Halloween season to the Christmas one by opening up with a festive horror movie, why not link back to the TV binging that provided some content to this blog earlier in the year by partaking in this mini series? We’re only covering part one here today as this is like four feature length episodes. In a worst case scenario, the rest will serve as backups that I can plug in if I’m having an off day so to help me from falling behind. But ideally they’ll go up once a week on the same day as a standard movie post. You manage to go back to actually doing 31 entries for the first time in donkeys years and it all goes to your head and you suddenly think you can do 34!

This has actually been on my list for quite a while now, we do love a good (or bad) Stephen King adaptation around here and I have a distinct memory of seeing this on TV when I was a kid. I’m guessing it must have played over a few nights over here at some point or maybe over a bank holiday or something? Not that I really remember much in the way of details, just the cornfields and a creepy face which we’ll get on to.

It’s something that’s stuck with me over all these years, I actually got a copy of the book at one point in what must have been the early to mid 2000’s. Still have it actually, I dug it out for the sake of this entry. Seems it’s a version from 1980 from it’s first run as a paperback in the UK. Seems to have a page or two missing near the start in amongst all the copywright business but otherwise it’s in okay shape.

Even has some writing on the first page that I can only make out in parts, one section seems to read ‘an old man beats a mule’. Or perhaps, more pertinently to this story, a mute...

Cover seems a bit dull and non descript compared to the various other ones that have come out over the years. There’s something interesting to this original version with the two figures fighting, very much a literal take on the good versus evil nature of the story with one figure dressed in light colours and the other dark. The dark figure is wielding a scythe which is obviously closely associated with the Grim Reaper. Seems to have some form of beak sticking out of its hood too and the robes and shoes seem to be almost harlequin or jester type clothes?

I wasn’t really expecting much going into it, especially based on the 1990 mini-series of It. I think because of the nature of It being partly set in the 60’s, as well the contemporary portion which just looks very 80’s, gives it this image in my head of being very dated. Outside of a few actors like Tim Curry, John Ritter and Seth Green, there’s not really any notable stars in it either and even though, Green’s notably arguably came much later on. The Stand though? This thing has some names, even if the bigger ones are just small cameos. Amongst the main cast you’ve got Gary Sinise, Molly Ringwald and Rob Lowe. Obviously Ringwald isn’t a massive star or anything and is only really known for that string of John Hughes movies in the 80’s but around this time was peak Sinise. He’s not long removed from starring in Of Mice and Men (...and men....and men...) and would have roles in Forrest Gump, Apollo 13 and Ransom in the following years. Plus that big stretch in CSI:NY in the 00’s. But then you’ve got people like Ed Harris and Kathy Bates showing up, albeit briefly but these guys have some clout. I mean, Bates had just won the Academy Award a few years prior for her role in Misery so maybe she felt compelled to do more work under the King umbrella. Even the more minor roles seem like a roll call of ‘hey, it’s you!’ with Ken Jenkins (AKA Bob Kelso from Scrubs), Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and the proprietor of Joe Bob’s Drive In, Joe Bob Briggs.

The landscape of TV feels very different today with actors much more willing to work in the field as it’s taken on much more artistic integrity. The greater availability of shows after they’ve aired, be it through DVR, home media or streaming, has enabled people to watch in far greater numbers. There was a time when the big break was deemed to be making it to Hollywood and starring in motion picture epics but it seems more and more that story tellers are moving away from the relatively cramped 2 hour-ish format of the silver screen to having their vision play out over a long form story and the big name actors are following suit. I feel like things would have been very different back in the early 90’s so to have these names attached.

Seems for a long time there were plans to turn this into a movie, it’s even referred to during a ‘making of’ feature on the blu-ray (pretty much the only feature on there I might add) as a ‘motion picture epic’ but this must have been done way into production so either they were confused or trying to mislead viewers for some reason? Apparently in the early 80’s the idea was for the success of Creepshow to finance production of The Stand but took until the early 90’s for everyone to finally settle on the miniseries.

Very much a big budget affair too for a TV Show, $6m per episode. And it’s needed given the scale of the story, taking place in all these different locations, the special effetcs and with so many characters involved with over 125 speaking roles across the series. It’s definitely a jump up from It, even though that had the two different time periods, it only had a budget of $12m across its two parts compared to the $24m here across four parts.

But to finally address the massive elephant in the room, this story centers around an outbreak of a strain of influenza seemingly created in some shadowy government facility. After something goes awry in the lab, a doomed insider pleads with the guy watching the main gate to seal the facility but he instead piss bolts for his nearby house and hurriedly bundles his wife and child into their car as they make their escape. Everyone else is not nearly as fortunate though as the camera pans the facility, lifeless corpses strewn throughout that have seemingly dropped dead in the middle of their everyday activities, there’s even one guy doubled over on a ping pong table. All of this is set to the sounds of BOC’s Don’t Fear the Reaper and culminates with the image of a crow picking at a doll dropped by the child in the rush out of the front gate. The crow features prominently on the front cover of the blu-ray I have, perched atop of a skull. Though, I know they’re going for the whole post-apocalyptic vibe but what about the superflu is causing the road to burn up and crack like that? The bird also shows up a fair bit throughout the episode, I was going to talk about it being a raven and how such birds are linked with ill omen and death but it’s a crow apparently. Who knew? Not me, I’m no ornithologist. It also seems to be very closely linked with a mysterious figure that is alluded to throughout, a ‘dark man’ or monster.

When the original carrier of the disease makes his way into Arnette, Texas, and crashes into the gas station that Sinise’s character Stu Redman is working at, his dying words are of his efforts to escape from a dark man that was chasing him and that no one can out run him. Maybe in that moment you’d think this is just a state of delirium and he’s speaking oddly poetically about trying to outrun Death himself but as the show goes on, more and more people speak of this dark man, almost as if everyone in the grip of this disease comes to share this vision.

And speaking of visions, we can’t forget Mother Abigail and her cornfields. Both Lowe and Sinise’s characters are whisked away in their dreams to the middle of nowhere where a centurion on her porch warns of them of an ominous future. Think Mama Murphy from Fallout 4 only with much less chem addiction. The only thing Mama Abigail needs is her bread. What is it with King and fields anyway? You’ve got In the Tall Grass, plus the corn fields here and in Children of the Corn. There’s probably more I’m forgetting too. It’s either cornfields, writers in distress or killer ‘whatever I can see in front of me whilst I’m pitching this story’ with this guy.

In a way though it’s good that the show takes this supernatural turn because otherwise this would be a little too on the nose to be watching in this current climate. It’s very eerie to see such similar events play out on screen, starting with the widespread rumours and misinformation. It starts out innocently enough with talk of this so called superflu being downplayed, covered up by the government as an anthrax attack or outbreak of swineflu. I remember back to those more innocent times at the start of the year when COVID was naively dismissed as little more than another flavour of the month disease like the swineflu, sars or ebola that would be here today and gone tomorrow. But then you’ve got things like the sense of paranoia suddenly surrounding a simple cough or sneeze, talks of quarantines, social distancing, the implementation of masks (which one reporter describes as not being able to stop a flu germ with a hangover) to the more disturbing scene of lethal force being used against a TV news crew who refuse to surrender footage they’ve shot of army troops disposing of bodies. Granted, we never got anywhere near that level, I think the worst we had was that guy from CNN getting arrested or that Aussie reporter being pushed over.

They even managed to mirror how universal a pandemic like this is, from the common man to the height of celebrity. One of the characters we’re introduced to is a singer who, whilst he seems to be one of the few lucky to have some immunity, still sees his mother succumb to the virus. Just like we saw with the likes of BoJo or Tom Hanks, it really is a great leveller and, as a wise man once said, ‘You might be a King or a little street sweeper but sooner or later you dance with the Reaper!’. I guess we can take solice that we haven’t quite had the societal collapse that this show manages to pull off in less than a week, with Times Square on fire and a guy running around shooting people like he’s in Falling Down. That’s not to say we wont get there, we seem to be hovering more around general civil disobedience right now with the growing frustration of lockdown and PPE spilling out into protests.

It makes for compelling viewing to see how quickly things break down from simply a man having the sniffles to people being rounded up from their homes and ushered into army vehicles. There’s a lot to take in as the show has to establish the events taking place and introducing it’s multitude of characters so there’s not really much room to breathe. Hopefully episode 2 can relax a little now and give the cast some time to grow. There’s still some standout performances though such as Redman’s growing frustration at being cooped up in a test facility, lashing out at the doctors and nurses coming in in their hazmat suits, prodding and poking him. It would have been nice to see more scenes with him and Dr. Dietz. They have one argument where they nearly come to blows before having a big showdown by the end, with the Doc being one of the last staff members left alive, seemingly crazed by their inability to find any answers in Redman’s tests and he threatens to take his frustrations out on Redman by shooting him. He might be immune to the virus but I bet he’s not immune to a bullet. Dietz starts out with this complete lack of empathy, almost to the point of having a rather cheery deposition considering the circumstances, as he finds some fascination in the speed at which the virus causes death. But he becomes more and more short tempered and threatening as the days wear on and it would have been good to see a more gradual descent.

The aforementioned Ed Harris plays General Starkey overseeing the initial bioweapon project and the fallout of it’s outbreak, perhaps overseeing to a fault as it becomes pretty clear from his ever increasing five o’clock shadow, dishevelled clothing and massive bags under his eyes that he’s slept very sparingly since the initial breach in containment. I think for the entire time we see him, his screen never changes from a shot of one of the cooks at the base of the initial outbreak slumped over, face down in the meal he was preparing. It makes a bit of a change to go from the quite verbal exchanges of Redman and Dietz to Starkey’s physical appearance and facial expressions putting across his mood.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter 1 : Section 5 : In and Out of the Basement

After you helped Trick survive and return home through a breaking and entering to steal antipsychotics for his little brother, Blue begins to remember who he was before Anti wormed his way inside his head. His plans are stopped in mid-thought, however, by the appearance of Anti on the stairs – wearing Dapper’s body like an outfit. All Blue and Red can do until the morning comes is look after Dok and Trick and hope nothing goes wrong…

Trigger warnings: torture, injury, blood, panic attack, major abuse, and abuse between brothers.

Find the masterlist for this chapter here.

 Part Five of Chapter One: In and Out of the Basement

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Okay, Anti, I have to ask. Do your "brothers" remember you wearing them?

“Oh, yes.”

He signs slower than Dapper does. His hands move like he is wrapping spider web around his fingers.

“Much of it, anyway… Not the things that I do, so much, but the sensation of me, in their heads… the pounding of blood through a body that no longer answers to you… the warmth of my presence, the cold when I go… Red, when he was still barely mine, once described it as being tarred and feathered from the inside… hot, choking, revolting, til the numbness comes… and then it is pleasant, he said, and he sank back into my power. Afterwards, they’re often sick. Jack made me something of a virus, you understand, I can’t help but make them ill sometimes. You don’t know how unfair it is, to be a curse to everyone around you.”

He pauses, staring at the window, where he thought he saw a flash of something big and black moving.

“But the only one who can’t seem to stomach it is my little Trickshot. The others recover well enough.”

There’s a slight tapping on the window. Anti frowns, considering getting up to investigate.

Anonymous asked: Do you have a favorite brother to wear, Anti? What is it like for you?

Anti pauses, looking at you. He smiles for a second, and then frowns again, thoughtful, or perhaps even sad. He stares out the window.

“There’s a completion to incarnation. You no longer feel so much like you are out of place, accidental, meant for another world. Everything is connected better. Everything is sharper, closer, more real. When I touch things there is an intimacy to it.“

He sighs and puts Dapper’s head in his hands.

“None of them fit quite right, though. Jack never gave me my own flesh. Guess I wasn’t worth it. Dapper fits nice. Even when he was Jameson, he fit nice. He is strong in a sense that is difficult to find, and I like the way I can feel his power, like water dripping through my hands.”

He looks down at the hands, then at the body. “Do you think he’s getting skinny?” he asks, frowning, plucking at the buttons of the dress shirt. “He never seems to change… even things I expect to scar disappear sometimes… he’s resilient, Jack ensured it. His little problem-fixer.”

Anti scowls and hugs himself, rocking slightly on the floor, or maybe it’s Dapper who’s rocking.

“Mine now,” sulks Anti, rubbing his shoulders. “Mine now.”

oasisofgalaxies asked: Anti, what’s your definition of love? What does it feel like for you?

Anti’s eyes narrow. “What does it matter?” he snaps. “As if it means anything! What is love to me? It’s sociology, anthropology, a little dopamine and oxytocin. Humans use it to ensure that other people protect them and their babies when they themselves are indisposed. They will die for it, sometimes, slaves to their own neurohormones.”

He snaps his teeth slightly, turning away.

“To feel it is useless. It makes me warm and not much else. Sometimes it even makes me want to protect them, but this is just the small part of me that is human too, and easily thrown off.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Maybe you should see who it is that's knocking. It could be Jack.

Anti rolls his eyes, scowling at the name, but nevertheless he gets to his feet. Crawling onto the bed, he gets up on Dapper’s knees and opens the window, peering out -

Poe bounces down from atop the window, close to his face, and Anti gasps, recoiling with a look of real shock on his face. Poe squawks indignantly as the window is slammed shut on her, tapping insistently as Anti, clutching at his face, voiceless groaning rising from his chest. He stalks over to the bathroom, abandoning you on the bed, and you hear the water begin to run as he scrubs his face clean, splashing it in his face again and again, gagging and hissing through Dapper’s teeth.

Anonymous asked: Anti, please don't. Dapper has you but sometimes it's not enough. He gets lonely and the bird is his only other company. It never even inside the house! It won't make him sick!

“Disgusting, disgusting, revolting!”

He stalks back out of the bathroom panting and disappears, only to return a minute later with a padlock clutched in his hands. Still hissing, he crawls back onto the bed and sits up, slamming the window out hard enough to scare Poe away, and then drawing it back and locking the window with a snap of the padlock.

“Fucking thing,” snarl his hands as he draws back, sinking back onto the bed, a little paler than he was a minute ago. “Touched my baby! Fuck, I’ve been sleeping in the same bed with him and he - ”

Anti shakes his head, gagging. “Just be glad I don’t kill the fucking thing!”

Anonymous asked: Actually, still curious, why are you wearing Dapper now? Do you have a reason?

This brings a bit of a smile back to Anti’s mouth. Cooling, he sits back on the bed, his silver-blue eyes flashing.

“I heard what your precious Marvin was saying, you know… maybe you should talk to him and try to figure out why I would do this. Unless you’re all too stupid.”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: Why can't Trickshot stomach it?

“I don’t pretend to understand it. We’ve had some nasty chores to do together, of course, but that’s true for all his brothers. Just weaker than the rest of them, I suppose. I haven’t asked him. He cries when I bring it up. It’s exhausting to watch.”

loganandoli asked: Hey Anti! I just realized that we’ve never really seen your room. Do you mind if you could go and give us a bit of a tour? Your favorite rooms and spots, etc?

“Oh, okay. I can take you around upstairs. There’s not a lot to see, but it’s bigger than our last house.”

He picks the camera up and heads out into the hall, panning around a little so you can see Dapper’s art and the one ruined wall where his art used to be. From there, he turns away from the stairs and back towards his office, unlocking the padlock on the door and pushing his way in.

His room was clearly abandoned for a long time before he moved in, but he’s cleaned it meticulously and then splayed wires and cords all over the room instead. You even see a small satellite dish in the corner, maybe for internet. You sort of doubt Anti’s trying to get cable.

He can’t speak, but he holds a hand up proudly to point at an assortment of computers, phones, radios, and more, buzzing warmly in a corner. Most of them seem to be running programs, a couple computers have youtube pulled up, and the radio is reading the news to him in French.

He pulls open the closet too, revealing an extensive menagerie of cameras, security sensors, knives, guns, voice recorders, a microphone, headphones, a box full of memory sticks and hard drives, a couple more buzzing computers, a fucking bear trap, whips, some sort of black mask, boxes of medicine, bloodstains, some cash fluttered to the ground, and several outfits falling off hangers, obscuring whatever else is in this bizarre little storage closet.

Anti sets you down on the floor of his room and sits down, pulling a computer into his lap. “It’s going to be a pain to move,” he admits before he gets to work. “But this is my set-up! Click that like button, gamers.”

Dapper’s chest shakes with silent laughter and Anti sighs warmly, drawing in on himself. “Was that all you wanted to see?”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What's the point in having a bedroom if you're never in it? You and Dap seem to be snuggly enough.

“It’s an office, not a bedroom! I work in here, even Dapper can’t come in.”

loganandoli asked: Basically yep! Also anti, what were your other houses like? Were they bigger or smaller then this one? Did everyone ever have their own room?

“The last one we were at was smaller, but we’ve moved around from place to place. Stayed in some motels when it was just Red and Dapper and I.”

Anti’s signs for his boys are different than Dapper’s. Red’s is “fight” mixed with the word for the color red, and Dapper’s is a D with the tapping of the wrist for “time.”

“Sometimes we’ve all been in the same room, but no one ever sleeps entirely alone. When it was just the three of us, Red would sleep on the floor beside us even if there were other rooms. And then with Doktor for a while, and then him and Doktor and Trick. But no one ever sleeps alone in a room, it’s not healthy. Someone should be watching. Someone should be there.

“I liked the last house quite well. We were in the middle of town, close enough that I could feel all the signals buzzing around. Maybe I’ll take us back to a city again someday.”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: No, I meant, like, what happens afterward? Is it a blow to his self-esteem, does he get really apathetic or tired, (gasps) does he… does he remember being Chase afterward? Is that it? Tell us! I wanna know! (I'm acting like a gossipy teen for this, if the text doesn't tell you) (It's hard to interpret tone in text, so… that's my tone) (y'know… waving my hands in front of my face like I'm hot, stuff like that)

Anti eyes you carefully. “After I wear Trick? He gets sick for a while, and then just needy. Wildly needy. Begging for attention, begging desperate for attention, crying and clinging to me, asking to sleep with me, to stay close to me, saying he feels bad, saying he’s afraid. Has these huge freak-outs, screaming and crying and nightmares, getting triggered by small things, sometimes several times a day, calling for me and all his brothers, even Red and Dapper sometimes.”

Anti pauses. “I don’t do it so much anymore,” he says. “Used to wear him often… but sometimes, afterwards, he even begins to talk about dying, about blood, in a way that I don’t like me, joking about it but… not joking. So I rarely wear him, and make sure Dok can watch over him afterwards.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Don't you think the others feel a little...I don't know, isolated, from the world? Makes it hard for them to blend in when they go into town when they don't really interact with normal people, don't you think?

“Isolated? What do they need the world for? They have each other. They have me. They wouldn’t be safe if they weren’t isolated, anyway. Definitely all go to jail, at the very least.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey, Dok? Any update on what's going on down there?

It’s hard getting Dok up the stairs.

Neither of their older brothers are well enough to help and Doktor is a shivering mess, stiff as bone, almost too clammed up to move. “You’re okay, man,” promises Trick again and again, trying to get him to his feet. “You’re okay, he’s not going to hurt you, he’s not going to hurt you.”

But Dok’s been in the basement too many times to relax, and he’s already too deep in his panic to make out most of what Trick is saying. All he can do is try to cooperate, managing to sling an arm over Trick’s shoulder, and let his brother half-carry him up the stairs, whispering reassurances.

Trick is slicked in sweat and pumped up with adrenaline, but as soon as they’re back in the nest, he shatters like glass, both of them collapsing into their blankets and coats and clothes, lying side-by-side and face-to-face. He doesn’t even notice Red’s presence until their brother is beside them, calling their names anxiously, and Trick doesn’t even have the strength to be vigilant about the danger he represents. He just wants to be fucking held.

Red rubs at his back and Trick begins to cry, hard, clutching Doktor, who’s gone silent beside him, eyes closed, shaking hard, hard, but only minutely, paralyzed and numb.

Blue watches from a few feet away. His hands are gripped into fists.

He has to get them out of here.

He has to get them all out of this place.

But first, he just has to try to get them through this night.

Anonymous asked: Anti, how often do you physically leave the house? Like you have Red and Trickshot run errands all the time, but what do you ever leave for?

“Physically? Physically I leave only when I am very bored or there is someone who I must hunt down. But often my mind is faraway. I can go anywhere, you know. I can go anywhere. I am everywhere.”

cest-mellow asked: hello anti, how are you? can i ask why you don’t like animals very much?

Anti’s eyes widen and then narrow into a furious scowl, not fit for Dapper’s face. Wiping at his cheek where the bird touched him, he reaches up to turn off the camera, just like that.

Well, then.

Anonymous asked: Big scary man who turns into big scary dog is scared of small friendly raven.

Red glances up, the message reaching him instead of Anti. For a second, he looks wildly, skittishly delighted.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers, his face turning red as he tries not to laugh. “Shut up, dude, he’ll kill you if he hears that. How the hell did you find out about that? He hates living animals, holy shit. Keep your voice down, haha! Oh, I should not laugh. I should not…”

Anonymous asked: Blue be cautious. Anti is making a show of force by wearing Dapper around. He's in control and wants you to know it. You need to make a "show" of compliance. Just... wait.

Frustrated, Blue nevertheless nods. “He’s really punishing Dapper for what I did, huh? I don’t understand, why would he possess him just because I was saying that…”

spicydanhowell asked: oh babies :( it's gonna be ok. if someone can help dok stay grounded itd help a lot. anything you can do to bring him out of his head. try using physical pressure, eye contact, try and get him to respond somehow

Red leans over his brothers like he might try some of your suggestions, but he’s not up to eye contact or touch right now.

“Here, let me,” croaks Blue, reaching out for help at the bottom of the stairs.

Red hurries over to him and helps him limp up the stairs, clutching at the wounds across his chest, healing slowly. He and Red fall to their knees besides their little brothers, and Blue reacts as though on instinct, kneeling above Doktor and then just crushing into something like a hug, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and clutching him tight, tight, stroking the back of his neck while Doktor shakes.

“Poor guy, poor guy,” mumbles Marvin, leaning down to press their foreheads together, waiting for Doktor to open his eyes. “It’s okay, Dok. It’s okay.”

He sits holding him for a long time, til Doktor’s staring up at him, his mouth trembling but his body relaxing.

“Kit,” he whispers, closing his eyes again.

“What? It’s Blue, Dok.”

“No… med - med k-kit…”

Blue draws back, alarmed. “You hurt?”

Trick is already dashing to the cupboards and back, returning with the med-kit. They all watch in worried anticipation as Doktor, with shaking hands, draws back his sleeves to reveal his scarred up wrists, takes a sewing needle out of his kit, and draws back -

“Dok, no!” cries Trick, grabbing his hand out of the air before he can stab himself with the needle, aiming for a long pink scar down from his elbow. “No, no, you’re not bleeding, it’s not open!”

“He cut me!” shrieks Doktor, scrabbling at the clean scar with his free hand. “He cut me, I need to stitch it up, I’m bleeding!”

“You’re not, you’re not! Dok!”

Red snatches the needle out of his hand and closes the kit back up, moving away to return it to the cupboard while Blue and Trick restrain their brother. Doktor begins to sob, moaning and clawing at his body, pulling at old scars.

Blue and Trick both help hold him down for a long time, rocking, calling his name, stroking his back. “Maybe he needs a sedative,” pants Blue, crushing his shoulders again, which seems to calm him down.

“We’re not allowed to give sedatives unless someone’s actually hurt.”

Marvin remembers your warning to lay low and acquiesces, though a low growl rises from his throat.

Doktor falls asleep eventually anyway, clinging to Trick’s shirt, mumbling his name.

Trick stares down at his brother, stroking his hair. His eyes are so exhausted he looks like a blind man.

“Hey,” murmurs Blue, reaching out to touch his cheek.

Trick doesn’t answer, staring.

“Hey,” repeats Blue.

“Will you crush me too?” asks Trick.

Blue can’t help but laugh. “Come again?”

Trick looks right up at him, face blank. “Crush me too? H-hold me like that?”

Blue’s smile fades away. Serious now, he moves gently forward, and wraps his arms around Trickshot, and squeezes him as tight as he fucking can.

Trick cries against his chest.

“It’s okay,” mumbles Marvin, knocking their heads together hard. “It’s okay. We’re okay for tonight, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

“I won’t go anywhere.”

“Okay.”

“We can all sleep up here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Trick sobs and sobs. Red returns to their side, his face sad, and comes to sit beside them, watching over Dok.

“I got you,” Marvin reassures, again and again and again. “It’s okay, I got you, I got you, I got you.”

Anonymous asked: oh Man, you guys hAve been thRough a lot tonight. you must be Very exhausted IN light of all this. perhaPs it will heLp get your minds off of All this if you wiNd down and go to sleep ?

The boys exchange nervous glances - even Doktor shifts in his sleep, grimacing against Marvin’s thigh. But they’re good at taking orders, and exhausted. Red brings his sleeping bag over and sets up in the corner, watching over them, while Trick curls up in his blankets at Doktor’s side, near to Marvin.

Marvin, though - Marvin stays awake.

He stares at you through the darkness, his face set and ferocious, protective.

I’m going to save them. I’m going to save all my brothers. I’m not going to let them get hurt.

Someone has to keep watching. Someone always has to be watching. Tonight, it is Marvin’s turn. But the danger is already in the house with him, and he curls low over his brothers’ bodies, and holds them close, wishing that Jameson were here as well. He does not sleep the whole night through. He is trying to remember.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Marvin, you gotta think of something, and fast. You're all safe for now, for sure, but keep your wits about you. There's too much power in that house.

Marvin’s exhausted eyes well with tears as he stares up at you.

“I… I had some plans, to get them all out of here… I think I remember bits and pieces of hiding around this town, of the way I came here, of how we could get away, especially if we all worked together… but the problem is…”

Marvin’s head drops. He strokes Trick’s hair, tears dripping down his face.

“I can’t leave any of them behind. Not one, not one. They need me here. I need to be here. That’s why Anti put on Dapper. I understand now. You all told me to remember all four of my brothers, that I loved and tried to protect all of them. I know that’s true, and so does he. I can’t go without all of them, so Anti made it impossible for me to take them all… I can’t get to Jameson without Anti.

“I can’t escape. I’d have to leave Jamie behind, with Anti wearing him, chained up better than if he were tied up and locked in the basement…”

Wiping furiously at his eyes does little to dry Marvin’s face. “You know, he’s the one I haven’t seen in the longest,” he sobs. “I remember losing him, and all of us being so afraid. It’s been months. I’ve barely laid eyes on him. I don’t know if he’s okay - he must be so miserable all the time. My poor little brother. I can’t leave him behind. I can’t leave at all.”

cest-mellow asked: don’t worry marvin, it’ll be okay. anti can’t wear jamie forever right? i bet he’ll become lonely, or he might need a hug or something. maybe you can use that to your advantage..?

Marvin pauses, staring, considering. “You’re right… right? Surely you must be… surely he can’t wear Jamie forever…”

Anonymous asked: Anti is overconfident if he thinks he can wear Jameson 24-7 AND expect him to still have the energy to turn things back if things go awry. Look where Anti ISN'T looking, Marv, and be patient.

“Right, right,” mumbles Marvin, getting lost in thought. “That’s good, that’s really good… maybe there’s even a way I can wear him out… or trick him into letting Jay go…”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What if you sneak out in pairs? Get a few out at a time or something? Or a decoy!

Marvin nods slowly. “Hm, yeah… If I could convince someone to run the next time he sends them into town or something….”

He sighs, his hand rubbing down Trick’s back. “They just seem so convinced, though. I don’t know. Maybe they’re just too far gone. Maybe I’m just paranoid, tricking myself. Anti seems bad, yeah, but I don’t remember much… maybe I’m confused, maybe I should be here…”

His eyes cloud over slightly.

“I seem to remember something nice with Anti,” he says softly, a smile playing along his mouth. “Like… him holding me. And it was warm, and I was sure of everything… no confusion, just… Anti.”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, are you maybe thinking of Jack?

Marvin stills, staring at the ground.

“I don’t think so,” he says, after a very long time. “I don’t remember who that is at all.”

Anonymous asked: Uh oh, we're losing the cat

Marvin blinks, suddenly anxious, trying to remember something he’s forgotten. “Who’s the cat? Is that why Anti calls me Kitten?”

Anonymous asked: Trust your instincts on this one, Marvin. One good deed by Anti, real or fake, doesn't measure up to the infinite amounts of abuse he's put--and will continue to put-- you and your family through.

“Right, right… the warmth is just… a trick, it’s just… he’s not really good, even though he feels like he is when you look at him…”

musical-in-theory asked: Marvin, whenever you feel yourself slipping away into Blue, let this thought ground you again: Anti hurt your brothers and made them thank him for it.

Marvin’s heart drops into his stomach. For a second, he can only breathe through the words.

“Oh, oh,” he whispers, clenching his fists tight, digging his nails into his palms. “He did, he did.”

He is curled low over Doktor’s body, breathing through his teeth.

“Anti hurt my brothers and made them thank him for it.”

cutiepotato777 asked: Happy Birthday Glitchy Boy! Whatcha gonna do for your birthday? (This was not the 31st, but the anniversary of the first day Anti glitched on Jack’s channel)

He scowls, bent low over his computers. “By all means, let’s celebrate the first day I was used as a fucking prop to win some bitch boy internet points. Nothing, I’m not celebrating. Probably need to break that fucking cat back in today, though. I want to see if I can get him fully under within a month. Took me two for Trick and Dok. Want to break my record. That would be worth celebrating.”

Anonymous asked: Anti have you tried to wear Blue before, when you were resetting him maybe? Or is this something you're holding off on?

“I haven’t yet…. possession does not generally lend itself to fondness, which is the most important thing to cultivate in the first few months. But if I need to, I will. I wonder if his magic burns.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Marv, i'd be on your best behaviour. Anti is SUPER sour today, it seems.

Marvin can’t help but laugh at that. “Sour, huh? Fuck… okay. Yeah.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Maybe ask Red how much he remembers? I think he's gonna be your strongest ally right now.

Red glances over at you, still snuggled up in his sleeping bag by the window. He’s only been awake for a couple minutes and he’s surprisingly comfy, even in the cold. He can’t remember the last time he woke up without feeling lonely. I mean. He can’t remember the last time he woke up at all before yesterday, but whatever.

“That’s a good question,” says Marvin, looking up at him. “What do you remember?”

“What do you?” asks Red sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

Marvin shrugs, scooting closer to sit next to his brother’s legs, dangling off the sill. “Just bits and pieces. A couple names, a couple places. Sensations, more than anything else… like there’s all these places in my brain where a memory should be, but… it isn’t.” He pauses, rubbing his thumb across the palm of his other hand. “I don’t even know who I was… just a tiny bit of who I am.”

Red sniffs and turns to look out the window, shrugging. Marvin waits patiently for him to speak, eventually nudging his knee.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere but here,” he says tiredly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone but Anti’s. I remember Trick and Doktor a little, the boy in the attic a little. Some fights, some… scary nights. Some of my scars help me remember. I think, for the most part, it’s just been me, hiding behind the island, for a very long time.”

There’s a pause. The birds are singing in the trees.

“I don’t think you were with me,” says Red, his voice heavy. “And I think it was very painful. Maybe it’s better we don’t remember.”

Anonymous asked: so anti... how are you going to break blue in? are you hypnotizing him again or (fuck) something else?

“I’ve had to find different techniques for every one of them, they all react differently. Protective Jackie, needy little Chase, ferocious Jamie, proud Henrik… I’ll have to experiment with Marvin. Already stripped half of who he is away. Just have to see what makes him tick. Why, you have suggestions?”

nikkilbook asked: Help them remember kindness. Trick and Red have both said that they get angry because it hurts less to be hateful, be violent, that that’s how they protect each other and themselves from even more pain. And as much as it will hurt and as dangerous as it might be, you’ve GOT to remember kindness. Remember what real love feels like. See all the ways Anti is hollow in comparison. Make them feel safe for little seconds in between. Make them remember that they are worth the world.

Marvin nods slowly, closing his eyes. “I… think I can do that. I have to be here. Have to be what they need me to be. I can be kind. I can be good to them. This is my family, after all, even if I barely remember them.”

He tugs on Red’s pant leg, grinning up at him. “Hey. Come down here so I can change your bandages and then let’s get everybody up for some breakfast. Yeah?”

Anonymous asked: Mr. Love-is-just-chemicals-we-live-in-a-society-and-has-read-exactly-one-psychology-article-to-know-how-people-work wants suggestions, everybody!

Anti laughs. The laugh becomes a cough. It tickles in his chest and makes him laugh again, harder. Dapper’s face is somewhat pallid.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Do you have a favourite to wear, birthday boy?

Anti puffs up, a little pleased with the attention despite himself. “Probably Carver,” he says. “He’s been mine the longest and he’s comfy, familiar. I like the way his hands move, he’s a knife-thrower like me. But I like Red too, he’s gotten so strong again and he’s almost as quick as my Carver.”

Anti pauses, thinking.

“Maybe that’s what we’ll do today,” he signs, glancing down at Dapper’s body. “Maybe it’s time for a good tussle.”

nikkilbook asked: Uhm. I would just like to point out that you made Dapper cough just by laughing a minute ago. Maybe extreme physical activity is not the best idea right now. Plus also, Red still has a head wound. Maybe don’t engage in activities that might seriously damage them.

“I’ve put them through worse.”

Anonymous asked: So do you prefer what kills them to make them stronger or weaker? Because I think what kills them is going to make them dead, and because consequences be damned, you'll just make your *very fatigued* puppet undo your mess, right?

Anti drums Dapper’s fingers against the floor, growling to himself, a breathy, voiceless noise like a snake hissing. “Red’s lucky I’ve taught him to fight under pressure,” he signs, but he seems to be cooling on the idea.

“Is he really so bad off? Why’s my Doktor not doing more? Didn’t he stitch it up? He stitches up all his other wounds and then there’s only that one area I have to be careful with. Isn’t his skull supposed to be thick? Why are you humans so frail?”

He chews on Dapper’s nails for a second, and then seems to catch himself in the act and stops, sighing. “They wear out so fast.”

He rubs at a deep scar on Dapper’s tummy, beginning to feel tired. He should have slept or eaten or something.

Anonymous asked: Trickshot, Someone, are you guys awake yet?

You find them cheerfully eating breakfast downstairs, bagels with peanut butter, sitting in a circle with blankets wrapped around shoulders. Doktor isn’t eating, but he’s awake, at least, lying against Trick’s shoulder and holding his brother’s hand. Trick waves at you, wiping peanut butter off his chin. “What’s up?”

He still looks shaky, but he’s happy this morning.

Anonymous asked: Goodness, you sound so petulant about their limits being so different from yours. Isn’t that what makes it fun? Their limits are what enable you to play with them so thoroughly; wear them out, push them past their limits, toy with pushing those limits further. But every knife has two edges.

“There are limits that benefit me,” Anti admits. “Making Henrik scream when he swore to God he never would, getting Chase to beg for me because no one’s touched him for two weeks, watching Jackie get thinner and thinner… but if they’re always weak, what’s the fun in that? Over far too soon if you can be broken with a crack of the skull.”

He stares blankly into the distance, flipping a knife in his hand once, twice, before letting it thunk back to the ground.

“I hate them,” he tells you suddenly, still staring away. “I hate all of them. Their weakness. The parts of them that remind me of him.

“Some days I dream about taking them to a cliff and telling them all to walk off, one by one… But then, I suppose I’d be…”

He doesn’t know what. Lonely? Drifting? Unprotected?

“I need them for my plans,” he concludes finally, closing his eyes. “I must love them a little if I keep them around at all. I… think that’s right.

“Anyway, you’re right. I must watch their limits. Push them, but not too far. Break but in the right way. That’s the only way I’ve been able to keep them all so far.”

cest-mellow asked: anti, why don’t you take a break? you should eat, or let dapper eat and rest, he’s probably going to be really sick if you wear him for so long. maybe you can rest too, lay with him or take a walk...? you deserve to have a moment of peace today, don’t you think?

“I have to take care of the body,” says Anti flatly, getting to his feet. He’ll eat, maybe, drink some water too, but he won’t let Dapper go without good reason. “A walk might be good. I love the ocean where the water crashes hard against the rocks.”

Anonymous asked: You guys have any routines you do everyday?

“That’s a good question,” says Trick, and turns to his brothers - only Doktor’s practically numb against his should, and Red and Blue stare blankly at him, waiting for the answer too. He can’t help but laugh a little.

“You usually go for a run,” he tells Red. “But I wouldn’t advise it today. You sort through all our supplies, everything we have, meticulously. Sometimes Anti calls you upstairs and I don’t know what you do… work, he calls it, chores. Often he has errands for you outside of the house. You check and reset the traps, eat and make sure we have too, run again, watch the birds… there’s a ball in your corner, I used to hear you throwing it around a lot. Sometimes Anti would go walking with you…”

Trick trails off, a brief flash of something like jealousy or grief flickering over his face. He readjusts and continues.

“Me and Dok have lots we do, but I’m nocturnal most days cause I’m on watch. He’ll read to me and run me through some exercises. Says I get stiff sitting up all night. In the morning, we go to the laundromat when we need to, and we eat and wash and clean up our nest and stuff.”

He pats proudly at his blankets and clothes.

“Then I go to sleep and you - ” He squeezes Dok’s hand and turns to glance at him - “What do you do, man? Color and read and memorize all our books. He can do the first four chapters of the Hobbit without looking, you know.

“There used to be more for us to do before we came here. Anti had us in the other countries for different reasons, not just tracking down Blue, so we all had things to do. Dok ran a clinic and everything. That’s how Anti caught that mafia kid he wanted - came to Dok cause he couldn’t go to the hospital, and then Anti had him. But now… yeah. We try to stay entertained around here. I miss when Anti let us have our music players.”

Anonymous asked: Are there ever days where you don't see Anti at all? How long were Anti and Red gone when they were out looking for Blue?

“Yeah, there are days we don’t see him! Sometimes a really, really long time for Dok and I. In the place we were living like… two countries ago, Anti was often gone, and left Red at home with us. He stays at home now more since wh-what happened, but…”

Dok shivers and clutches at his stomach. Outside, he thinks he hears… dogs? Or people, or something? But everyone else is listening to Trick. He hides his face against his shoulder and tries not to think about it.

“We’ve been here trying to catch Blue for ‘bout three weeks.”

Blue startles. “Have you?”

“You must be good at hiding,” says Red.

“You are,” admits Trick. His gun is farther from his hand than you’ve ever seen it at home. He looks happy. “Haha, I was starting to think it was another dead end. But here you are!”

He beams at Marvin. Marvin can’t help but smile back at the full force of it. This guy is too sweet to be Anti’s sniper.

“Anti and Red were gone maybe four hours. I think Anti found exactly where he was, and then it was just the walk and the fight and bringing him back home.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Red! What if there was an errand that you and Blue needed to run? *cough* Marvin *cough* an opportunity *cough*

“Um.” Red squints thoughtfully, glancing over at Marvin. “If I think of anything, I guess I’ll see if Anti will let him come along. I probably need to get rid of the Percocet Trick grabbed… unless Dok or Anti wants it, I guess.”

Anonymous asked: You gonna eat anything, Dok?

He stares numbly down at the little bit of food before them, his new glasses sitting low on his nose. Trick nudges him and reaches out to pull the bagels closer, but Doktor just shakes his head and hides his face in his twin’s shoulder.

“Come on, bud,” insists Trick, rubbing his back. “Here, come on, have some of mine.”

He tears off a bit of bagel and peanut butter and holds it up to his brother’s face. After a moment, Doktor reaches up to take it and puts it in his mouth, chewing slowly and burying himself back in Trick’s sleeve.

Trick sighs.

“He often gets like this?” asks Marvin, worried.

“No,” mumbles Trick. “Usually he’s more violent when he’s upset.”

“Well, how often does he get upset?”

Trick flinches and tugs Dok a little closer, looking warily up at Blue. He’s not used to telling anyone about Dok’s breakdowns - he never knows if he’ll be answered with sympathy or frustration.

“Not often,” he manages finally.

Marvin hums, his eyes narrowing slightly. Trick shrinks back nervously, only for Marvin to take his chin carefully in his hand and tip his head back up.

“Tell me the truth,” says Marvin, a blue light flashing through his eyes.

Trick’s shoulders slump with resignation - and maybe a little relief, too, to have a confidant for something they have been struggling with for months.

“Maybe three times a week, he gets where I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself,” he croaks. “But the really bad breakdowns, where he’s wild, where he might attack me… I don’t know, maybe once a month. He scares me. And then he doesn’t remember well afterwards, and he tells me it didn’t even happen.”

Dok shakes against his shoulder. Trick grips him tight, looking up at Blue like he expects him to fix it.

Marvin lays a hand on his shoulder and strokes the side of his neck with his thumb. “Okay,” he sighs, drawing away. “Okay, we can work with that. It’s going to be okay.”

Dok just hides, his hands curling around the scars all over his body, wondering why he can still smell the blood.

Anonymous asked: Are you ok, Dok... ?

He presses harder against Trick’s shoulder. He wants to go back to bed. He remembers being in the basement last night, but nothing happened, so the punishment must still be yet to come. And now he could swear he hears feet crushing leaves in the forest outside, like someone’s coming for him, him and his Trickshot…

Anonymous asked: Is there a separate stash of food upstairs or does somebody bring food to Dapper?

“I don’t know how Anti feeds Dapper,” admits Trick, momentarily confused. “I guess he has food up there, cause we don’t share with him far as I know.”

spicydanhowell asked: trick, something's bothering dok. a noise outside :/ (An anon sent a similar ask advising them to listen and was added).

Adrenaline floods through Trick’s blood and before the purple twins have even read your message he is scrambling to his feet, leaving Dok moaning for him to come back, grabbing after his brother. Trick ignores him and practically throws himself at the window, snatching up his gun and staring out the glass, panting -

“Trick?” calls Red, worried. “What’s - ”

“Someone outside,” gasps Trick. “Moving along the path, I can see - if they turn off the path they’ll see the house!”

Red staggers to his feet and comes to his side, startled. Neon vests can be seen in flashes through the trees lower down on the mountain, on a path that leads away from them, though not far. Red hears the barking of a dog.

“C-cops,” stammers Trick, adjusting his gun in shaking hands. “M-must have seen - have seen me - have seen m-me outside the pharmacy or the boy told them or caught my scent or - ”

“Calm down,” calls Red, grabbing his shoulder. “Calm down, let’s figure this out, we’re not caught yet.”

“Anti!” cries Trick, leaping down from the nest. “Anti!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him!” protests Marvin, alarmed. “He could punish you!”

“Not as bad as he will if I don’t tell him there’s cops coming!”

Anonymous asked: are the scars all over dok's arms and wrists from him hurting himself in his breakdowns or from anti punishing him? it seems like he's been hallucinating as well...

Doktor closes his eyes, trying to breathe through the panic around him. He holds out his arms in front of him, focusing on those old, strangely numb memories - some of them done to himself, cuts along his tummy from when he thought there was something growing beneath his skin, along his arms from where he thought infected cuts needed to be made clean… others from his master’s enemies, burying the bullet in his stomach or slashing him as he tried to run, grabbing him and shouting threats, trying to drag him away from his family or force him to tell things he did not want to tell… and then some, some of course from his master himself, because he used to be so bad, he used to be so proud, and he would spit and curse and snarl at Anti, until the blade fell and fell and fell again, and he began to cry for mercy, shattered like he never knew he could shatter, shattered into a new man entirely, a man he barely recognizes, coated in these aching scars, which always seem to bleed… used to be he only saw them open afresh in his nightmares, but these days, he sometimes sees them with his eyes wide open, staring down at wounds crying out, in silence, for stitches.

He curls in on himself, face blank.

Anonymous asked: No no no, calm down, Trick! It's okay. I'm sure they wouldn't send out dogs just to look for someone who stole meds. You didn't even cause any property damage. They probably aren't here for you, okay? It's just a coincidence. Blue or Red, you wait by the door in case they come up just to check on y'all, but right now, there's no reason to panic. They have no reason to suspect you. Keep Dok safe and calm, okay? That's more important right now.

Trick bites hard on his lip, trembling. “N-no, I - are you sure? Are you sure? I’m s-scared, I need to tell him - I’m scared they’ll shoot Doktor again, oh, oh, oh.”

spicydanhowell asked: trick, get anti right away, he'll hide you, i promise

“Yes,” pants Trick, nearly sobbing. “Yes, he always protects me when I’m in danger. Even when I’ve fucked up, no matter how bad I am, he protects me.”

“Trick,” cries Marvin, kneeling close to Doktor. “Are you sure? I - ”

“I’m the guard dog!” Trick shouts, whirling on him. “I have to tell him! He’ll keep us safe!”

The air burns with tension.

Anonymous asked: Keep your voices down just in case. As far as they know the house isn't here. If they do, they probably think it's abandoned. Don't give them a reason to investigate. Tell Anti if you have to but be ready for anything

“We need to make it look abandoned,” mumbles Red, glancing around at his families. “Get the blankets and things and hide. We’re in trouble if they even find us in this house, especially with the weapons.”

spicydanhowell asked: yes, i'm certain this is the best thing to do trick. you're not meant to keep this kind of thing from anti, but you all need to keep your voices down so nobody out there hears you :/

Marvin stares, afraid for his brothers. Red pipes up to reassure him. “Blue, he’ll protect us first and foremost. No matter how little I know, I’m sure of that.”

Fuck, he’s really trusting their safety to that monster? There should be something he can do, but he can barely remember the way his magic feels welling up in his mouth, let alone how to do anything worthwhile.

“Okay,” he croaks, gripping nervously at his hair. Trick is off like a shot, braving halfway up the stairs.

“Anti!” he cries. “Someone’s coming! Cops and dogs or hunters or something - someone’s on the path!”

Alarmed, Anti is up from his computers in a second, rushing to the top of the stairs. Trickshot’s terrified face stares up at him through the shadows, and a furious wave of protectiveness, of possessiveness, wells in Anti’s chest, hot and powerful.

“I’m sorry,” whispers Trick, tears welling in his eyes.

Anti shakes his head and beckons Trick up the stairs, darting towards Dapper’s bedroom. He lies down on the bed, just for a second, and the whole screen glitches horribly, bursting into flashes of color and static. When your vision returns, Dapper lies still on the bed and Anti stands before him, clutching a knife in his hand.

“Trick, listen to me,” he begins.

“I’m sorry,” cries Trick again, covering his mouth with his free hand.

Anti rushes forward to hold him, pulling him close and kissing the side of his head with a sudden ferocity, digging his fingers into the other side of the scalp. He draws back again and grabs Trick’s face in his hands, looking him straight in the eye. He knows what Trick is responsive to and he summons the guise now - a body looking just like Jack’s the last time Chase saw him, brown hair tumbling into his eyes and big round glasses to make his face look softer.

“Trick,” he repeats, louder. “Listen to me, little brother. I’ll go draw them away - ”

“No, I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“I’ll go draw them away,” he insists, shaking Trick. “And you will stay here and watch over Carver.”

“Wh - watch over Carver? I should be downstairs with my gun, on watch - ”

“This is more important. Do you understand? I want you to sit here at Carver’s side - ” he gestures to the bed “ - and I want you to shoot anyone who comes up the stairs.”

Trick freezes, trying to get words out of his mouth.

“Anyone, Trick. Anyone. Especially Blue, no matter what he tells you. Do you understand me?”

He manages a nod, tears welling up in his eyes. Anti pushes back his hair warmly and lets out a shaky breath.

“I love you,” he says. “Tell Dapper the password is Caligula, but only to use it if I don’t come home in the next four hours. Okay?”

“Yes, Anti. Anti, Anti. I love you - I love you too.”

Anti nods and lets him go, darting down the stairs. He’ll keep them away from his pets. He’ll protect his family whatever it takes.

“Where’s that green coat?” he calls, ignoring the others and rushing towards Doktor, who responds as if on instinct, scrambling to find the coat amid the messy nest. He holds it up and Anti snatches it, heading towards the door.

“Go hide in the basement,” he orders. “Red, right hand, keep your brothers quiet and keep your brothers safe.”

“Yes, Anti.”

“What will you do?” calls Marvin, as Anti’s hand finds the doorknob.

Anti turns to him with something dark and wild in his eyes, a cold grin on his mouth.

“Something I’d never have to do if you idiots weren’t with me,” he laughs, fangs sprouting in his mouth. “Run!”

And he vanishes out the door.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, how can you be so trusting of anti when he literally BROKE you and your brothers?

Blue’s eyes well up with tears. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, distressed. “Just resign myself to the thought of him letting us be killed? How can I trust him? How can I not trust him? He’s holding our lives in his hands! I’m sorry!”

Anonymous asked: Trick, how's Dapper? Anti hasn't fed him anything or let him sleep since he started wearing him. Does he seem sick?

“H-he’s mostly unconscious right now, I think. He’ll be sick when he wakes up for sure. Anti makes everyone sick. Having him under your skin is like - argh, horrible! I guess Dapper takes it better than me - everyone takes it better than me, I’m such a coward - but yeah, he’ll be sick.”

Trick’s lying in the hallway, gun pointed and ready. There is nowhere for him to prop it up standing or sitting, so he lies on his belly, like a snake in wait. His fingers drum anxiously against the handle and he glances back at Dapper. “Should I check on him, you think? Or just keep watch?”

Anonymous asked: Blue whatever ideas you have of getting to Dapper, this isn't the time. Anti's thought ahead, and Chase's loyalty to him is deep. Worry about Doktor, he might not take going back to the basement so well. Maybe practice your magic a little. Lights or flowers or something. Nothing too crazy.

“Right, right - that’s a good idea.”

Swallowing, Blue turns around to rejoin Red, who’s doing his best to pull Doktor towards the basement without hurting him. “Here, let me get him,” insists Blue, stepping in for his brother. “Throw some of the blankets and shit downstairs and lock up the cupboards. I’ll get him down there. Come on, man, it’s okay.”

Deutsch doesn’t even seem reluctant, just resigned, tears spilling down his face the closer he’s lead to the basement. He groans a little, gritting his teeth in his mouth, and Marvin wraps a reassuring arm around him, murmuring reassurances.

As if false hope and warm skin can save him.

“Don’t,” manages Doktor, gasping, pushing suddenly back against Marvin’s arm. “Don’t - make me.”

“Doktor - ”

“Don’t make me go down there. Don’t make me go down there.”

“Doktor - ”

“Don’t make - ”

“Henrik!”

Doktor jolts like he’s been struck by lightning, a hand flashing out to grip Marvin’s shirt. No, no, no - Trick is supposed to be here to protect that name, to prevent that name, to hold that name as secret, Doktor himself is not supposed to hear it, is not supposed to remember -

But fuck, he says it like it means so much.

Doktor whimpers, letting his head fall against Marvin’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” croaks Marvin, pulling him close. “I’ll keep you safe. It’s me. I swear.”

Outside, dogs around the house, not chasing dogs, but fit to catch scents. Jackie prays Anti will act fast - but in the meantime, the danger is here, and he was told to keep the other’s safe.

“We don’t have time for this,” he says, and he stalks forward, grabs Doktor by the arms, and drags him past the basement door, practically shoving him down the stairs. Doktor yelps pitifully. “Red!” cries Marvin.

Red’s face is hot with shame, but he doesn’t pause, returning to grab Marvin too, who snarls as he is dragged into the basement, pissed. His equal in fury and doubly frantic, Red just lets him go and continues walking, listening to the door slamming behind him.

“You better pray to God Anti didn’t hear you say that name,” snaps Red.

“Fuck you!” returns Blue, furious. “And fuck him too! It doesn’t belong to him! We don’t belong to him!”

Terror floods Red like lava spilling over, and he doesn’t even know why. He’s near to tears. “Don’t say that,” he wails, gripping at his hair, backing away. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know! Just - just don’t say it! You’ll get hurt!”

“You remember that much, huh? You remember next to nothing but you know that if we rebel we’ll be tortured and that’s not enough to - ”

“Shut up!” screams Red. “Shut the fuck up!”

Barking in the distance, moving away, he hopes. Panting, Marvin grabs Doktor’s shoulders and moves him towards the corner of the room, helping him sink down to the floor and wrapping protective arms around him, glaring at Red.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick, would you really shoot one of your brothers if they were in your way? That sound really scary to deal with....but you should definitely check on Dap. He needs all the support he can get.

Trick pauses.

He imagines Blue walking up the stairs, timid, shy, kind, loving. Warmer than a space heater, more reassuring than the barrel of his gun, good like the first rays of sunshine.

He imagines Anti.

“Yeah,” he tells you, chill. “I would.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: How's it looking out there, Anti? The boys inside are getting restless!

He hasn’t brought a camera with him, not seeing himself as answering to you. He will be gone for some time. Like the boys, you are forced to wait and see, which kind of sucks ass.

The dogs seem to have moved away, however.

Anonymous asked: definitely watch over him. he's sick and anti asked you to. anti said something interesting about dapper though. he said he's resilient. he hasn't gotten thin like the rest of you and his wounds don't scar as much. i have no idea if anti has him wash, or even feeds him at all so i'm really interested... maybe you could poke around in the room too?

Trick gets up to his feet obediently, moving to Dapper’s bedside.

“What’s this about… resilience?” he asks.

Dapper is asleep in the bed, but fitful. His face is beaded with sweat, his chin tilted strangely high to let him breathe, raspy and fast, like he’s having a nightmare. His eyes are colored purple like a watercolor painting with exhaustion for an art form.

Trick is stabbed by sympathy. He sets his gun to his side - carefully, carefully, he always keeps it close - and brushes overgrown curls out of Dapper’s eyes, laying a cool hand against his hot forehead.

“Hey, bud,” he murmurs. “You with me?”

Evidently not. Dapper’s mouth trembles and he sleeps on.

After a moment, Trick unbuttons his dress shirt, stripping the fabric off to make him more comfortable. Then he can’t resist his own curiosity, lifting up the white undershirt hidden beneath.

Dapper’s tummy is smooth and scarless, his arms the same. He is thin but not starving. The bruises on his neck from yanking against the rope have healed in a matter of days.

Trick frowns. He’s never really thought about that before, how Dapper always seems to look the same no matter what you do to him. He doesn’t know why there would be a difference in their resiliency - they’re supposed to be genetically identical, Anti says, or close enough. Trick always just put the difference down to their treatment, but he remembers well enough the days when they were both treated the same, as twins.

Trick shivers, a craving he does not recognize rising in his mouth.

He finds no food in the room. There’s a washcloth in the bathroom and some water in a pail, but the sink does not run and the bathtub barely trickles.

Anonymous asked: You don’t think anti just doesn’t feed him cause carver can just heal himself if he starves to death, do you?

Trick frowns, tilting his head. “I don’t know… I… I don’t understand his powers. That sounds… really cruel, I don’t know if Anti would…”

Trick pales and decides not to finish his train of thought, sitting down at Dapper’s side. Occasionally, he reaches out to push his hair around or stroke his cheek or shoulder, but he always draws away again, like he shouldn’t be touching him.

spicydanhowell asked: maybe he keeps dapper's things like food and water and stuff in his office so he can decide when to give it to him. poor little guy. definitely keep holding his hand and touching him though, he loves that and it'll make him feel better

“Yeah, maybe.”

Trick gets a little bolder in his contact with Dapper, rubbing the back of his neck now, in heavy, reassuring movements. Dapper has begun to make a noise almost like a hiccup or a sob, a shaky gasp with his chest heaving. Trick can almost imagine him trying to eject the metaphysical remains of possession and it almost makes him sick too. He leans in close and grips Dapper’s hands.

He almost wishes he could enjoy seeing Dapper laid low while he’s feeling fine, but he just regrets that this happens at all. Anyway, he looks so small and sick right now. It’s hard to hate someone who has the same face as you, except twice as pathetic.

“Poor lil man,” mumbles Trick. “Fuck, it’s cold up here, and quiet. I wish Dok was here. This room is lonely.”

cest-mellow asked: marvin, is everything okay downstairs?

Marvin sits in the corner with his knees drawn tight to his chest, trying to avoid the bloodstains on the floor. He’s wrapped his long brown coat around Doktor’s shoulders, his brother asleep against his side. They’re both pale with stress, but Marvin is resolute, blue magic floating slowly through his twitching fingers.

Red sits in the other corner, turned away from them, pounding his fists against the floor, bored, bored, anxious, chock-full of pent-up energy and guilt and anger. He wishes Anti had let him go in his stead.

“I think we’re okay,” murmurs Marvin.

He watches his brother warily, a certain desperation lingering in the paths of his eyes.

“I think… I’m starting to think…”

He closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“M-maybe I should just take who I can… maybe I should try to escape, and come back for them… they’re so different from what I thought I remembered…”

spicydanhowell asked: that might be the best thing to do, marv. carver is so weak anti wouldn't want to make him turn back time and undo it. you could probably get dok and trick to leave with you... idk though...

Marvin nods slowly, trying to look over at Red, a low guilt curling in his tummy.

“I don’t know if I could convince any of them.” He rubs Dok’s shoulder as he groans through a nightmare. “But I don’t know when I’ll get a chance like this again.”

Anonymous asked: I can't blame you for thinking that... All or nothing is a huge risk as it is, but if only some of you get out, there might not be a second chance at getting the rest.

Marvin covers his face with his hands. “Oh, God,” he whispers. “We can’t stay here…”

Vines curl around his boots.

“But how can I leave them?”

nikkilbook asked: Red, if there was a way to stop feeling so scared, would you take it?

Red doesn’t turn his face to you.

“I know what you’re talking about,” he says.

A whisper.

“It isn’t possible. Don’t give us false hope.”

He curls slightly in on himself.

“I lied to you, you know,” he adds, softly. “I remember some things better than I said. I’ve tried to run away before. But then…”

He stares at the wall.

“It isn’t possible.”

Anonymous asked: Red, you didn't have Blue before. Maybe he's what will make all the difference now. He's magic, bro. Trust him.

Red clutches at his chest, pain welling beneath his bones like a poison.

“I can’t lose him,” he chokes out, rocking himself. “And I won’t see him in pain again! I won’t, I can’t! I have to keep them safe! To keep them safe, I have to keep them here! No, no, no, I can’t - can’t lose him…”

nikkilbook asked: But you aren’t alone this time. You have Blue, at the very least. You might even have Dok.

“Doesn’t change anything,” he cries, almost angry. “Doesn’t change anything. I could have gone. I could have! But I couldn’t give my brother up - I stayed. Power means nothing when Anti’s in your head.”

He clenches his fists, panting through his teeth.

“My power was nothing,” he groans. “My power is nothing. I am nothing - nothing, just Anti’s.”

Anonymous asked: red you need to do something about blue. he's planning to run away while anti's gone.

Red nods slowly. His face settles and sets.

He gets to his feet, glancing at the chains in the basement closet.

“Keep your brothers quiet,” he whispers to himself, closing agonized eyes. “Keep your brothers safe.”

He is a good soldier, and has been for a very long time.

florenceisfalling asked: red, what are you planning to do?

“I chained him up before… if I can just keep him a while, Anti will come home, and Blue won’t have to think anything that hurts him anymore. Just - just wash it away. I wish he would just wash it all away. He never looks at me anymore. But maybe he will if I’m good. He’d understand why I chained my twin up. He’d call me a good big brother, a good right hand. I don’t want to scare Dok, though.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, i would be on your guard when it comes to red. He might be your twin and all, but remember that he's crazy loyal to anti. I would try and take care of him first before you bolt.

Blue bites hard on his lip, staring at his brother, who seems to have gotten up to stretch. “I can’t blame him for his loyalty,” he whimpers, tears sparking in his ocean eyes. “Who knows how long he’s been abused? He doesn’t even have the fragments of good memories that I do. He deserves b-better than this.”

Anonymous asked: Red no. Anti doesn't believe in Risk vs Reward. There's only Risk and earning a punishment, but there's never any reward, only AVOIDING punishment.

“There were rewards when I was younger,” mumbles Red. “Back when he loved me.”

Anonymous asked: Wait, when the hell did you chain him up, Red?? Was it when Anti reset him? Anti couldn't be bothered to do his own dirty work?

“The - the first day we brought him home. Didn’t I? I don’t remember… I was the one chained up for the reset… I remember screaming. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, but I knew what he was about to do to me. My little brother…”

florenceisfalling asked: be careful though- blue is powerful. he might retaliate, even though he doesn't want to hurt you, red.

A small, painful smile flickers over his mouth, his eyes curving with emotion - pride, you recognize, pride and warmth and sorrow.

“I’d expect nothing less from my Blue.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, I've been telling you since day 1 to hold back, not yet, be patient, comply, don't try anything, but you know what? Go off. I don't think this is an ideal opportunity, but it's opportunity nonetheless and it might be all you have.

Marvin lets out a deep, shaky breath, laughing a little. Carefully, he shrugs Doktor off his chest, trying to look casual as he lays him back against the wall. He’ll give him a minute more to sleep.

It’s time to go.

He’s bringing whoever he can with him.

spicydanhowell asked: red, he was considering leaving without you. you would have been tortured for that! you've got the right idea...

Red chokes, his eyes flickering wildly up to Marvin.

“Oh, without me,” he whimpers. “W-well, who can blame him? He won’t stay for me. Why would he stay for me? He’d leave me alone again…”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, I think you either need to keep your distance from Red or try to get him on your side. You need each other.

“R-right,” stammers Marvin, looking up at his twin, who is standing a little strangely, shifting on his feet, his back still turned. “Right… I… I should try and get him to come with me, shouldn’t I?”

loganandoli asked: Marvin!! Reds about to chain you up!! You have to convince him that you’re not leaving or you’ll be stuck!! (Cest-mellow also warned Marvin and was added).

“What?”

Marvin pushes back against the wall, trembling, dragging himself to his feet. Knife wounds sting beneath his clothes. He stares at Red, afraid.

Red stares back, exhausted.

The chains are in the closet beside him.

“We really going to do this, heartbeat?” Marvin whispers. He tries to sound brave, but it only comes off as fragile. Stepping in front of Doktor, he prays their little brother will stay asleep. He’s so shaken up already. They can’t stay here. He can’t stay here. None of them can stay here.

“How can you not see how terrible this place is?” cries Marvin, when no answer comes from his brother. “How, how, how can you stay, and force me to stay too?”

Red is staring at the floor. His hands curl and uncurl. Grief and hurt and rage and sorrow war in his face.

“Just stay,” Red says. “And we don’t have to do this.”

“I can’t,” answers Marvin, breathing in deep. “And Jackie, Jackie, Jackie - if you don’t get out of my way, I will push you aside.”

His hands crackle like torches, simmering with blue fire. Red smiles grimly. It never reaches his eyes.

Trick is a guard, Doktor meant for support; Jameson is the fang-toothed puppy.

And Red?

Red is the attack dog.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Maybe try and take red with you first. If he goes first, the others might feel more secure and trust you with getting them out of here.

“Red,” begs Marvin, panting. “Think about what you’re doing.”

He’s trying to look intimidating. He can still talk him down from this, can’t he?

“If you would come with me, we could convince the others to go too, couldn’t we? What would Anti be able to do if we had all turned against him? We can still save ourselves, Jackie!”

“Don’t call me that,” screams Red. “You’re my twin, you’re supposed to shield me from that name!”

“I can’t lie to you anymore! This is not who you are and it never has been! I remember now! I let you find me, praying you would come alone! I thought that I could snap you out of it, if you just listened to me, even for a moment, my brother, my friend, who loved me from the day I was born. I knew that together, you and I could defeat Anti! I know we can still all be saved like that!”

Red grabs a chain from the basement door, heavy in his hands.

“Okay,” pants Marvin, circling. “Not feeling keen on the PMA. Okay, okay, take it easy.”

nikkilbook asked: Marvin, tell him a story. Something small. No matter what happens or who does what, you can at least give him back one of his good memories.

“I - I don’t remember any stories! What can I tell him about? Help me remember something!”

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: How about when you were first born and you didnt have a name it was only you Jack and Jackie, you were like jackie then he wasnt alone and you two took on the world together

Marvin laughs and sobs at the same time. “That sounds wonderful! Can you imagine, just the two of us? Jackie, do you remember - when it was you and me and - and - someone else, I can’t remember, someone who loved us - you slept right across the hall from me and we would stay up so late every night, all three of us were noctural, ha. We’d be running around in the city, just the two of us, you were never far from my side - ”

“Why can’t we be like that and be Anti’s too?” cries Red. “You’re trying to run away from me!”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Come up with something! There has to be some cliché that connects to you guys. Do you remember anything stupid you did together? Or remind Red of how you had his back, even after the reset!

“We always looked after each other, whenever anything came to hurt us we defended each other! That’s how we came out of the first time Anti attacked, side-by-side, back-to-back, together - ”

“We were wrong!” screams Red.

Doktor is awake by now, scrambling into the corner, terrified. He doesn’t know what to do.

“We were wrong to live like that! Wrong to fight him! It would have hurt less to surrender then!”

“Surrender then,” snarls Marvin. “Give up everything that we are, instead of letting him take it from us? You were never a coward, Jackie. Remember yourself!”

Anonymous asked: doktor, wake up and help will you?

Doktor throws his hands up, stressed out of his mind. “What do you want me to fucking do? I want Trick, I want Trick, where is he, why did Anti take him away from me?”

florenceisfalling asked: talk about trick's kid, hunter! surely you all have shared memories with him. does that help you remember? talk about your powers, the plants you can grow. what kind did you used to grow, where did you keep them? talk about watching movies together and sharing dinner and going on trips. think!

“Do you remember swinging our nephew back and forth between the two of us, laughing like nothing would ever hurt us?”

“Be quiet!”

“Do you remember blue magic and magnolias sprouting up through the ground because we finally had a third brother?”

The chain swings, swings, hard, and Marvin throws himself back against the wall to avoid the blow. Red’s face is setting, cold with the rhythm of a good fight, blocking everything else out.

“I love you so much, please - ”

Red darts forward like a mongoose, grabbing Marvin and flipping him over his waist. Marvin hits the ground hard but takes the blow resiliently, well used to his brother’s strength. Strange, the memory waking up in him - We have fought a thousand times, my brother, but I thought that was play, not practice.

Red strikes at his face and Marvin throws himself aside, only to be grabbed by the hair and dragged up to his knees. Crying out, he scrambles at his short hair and stares up at his brother, finding tears in his eyes.

“Stop talking, please,” begs Red. “You won’t convince me - I made peace with my own darkness a long time ago. I’m not a good person, Blue.”

“You could be,” answers Marvin.

“You don’t know what I’ve done. I wish Anti had left my brain so blank I forgot the sight of my own face.” He grabs Marvin’s wrist and holds up the chain.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dok, Marvin is going to take care of you and trick, but he needs your help right now. You have to help him calm Red down.

“Red, Red!” cries Doktor, reaching out for him. “What’s happening, please stop!”

Red looks up, alarmed by the sound of his distress, and Marvin takes the opportunity to attack, grabbing Red’s wrist. Red screams as heat races through his hand and arm and he drops Marvin, staggering away, clutching at his burned hand.

“Stop, stop!” cries Doktor, curling in on himself. “Stop, don’t hurt each other!”

florenceisfalling asked: red, listen to him. please listen to him, don't try to fight.

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this!” screams Red, beginning to hyperventilate.

nikkilbook asked: Come on, Astrifer. Find yourself

“I’m so tired!” screams Red. “I don’t know who I am, but I don’t want to be him anymore! I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to go home! Anti, please come back! I’m afraid, master, I’m afraid!”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dok, you need to calm him down. Calm Red down or y'all are going to get hurt!

Doktor staggers to his feet and reaches out to grab Red, pulling him protectively away from Blue.

“Henrik, keep away from him,” pants Marvin.

His eyes have begun to glow through the shadows of the basement.

“Go get Trick and tell him we are leaving. Let me handle him.”

Doktor clutches tighter to Red, backing, backing away.

spicydanhowell asked: red, chain him up, shut him up, and then you can rest. it's going to be okay. just do as you're told and you'll be safe

“Yes, I have to stop him, I have to stop him, I have to keep him safe - ”

He drops his hands from his hair and shoves Doktor towards the stairs. “Go wait upstairs,” he commands. “Now, little one.”

Doktor knows where he lies in the hierarchy and he is obedient. He turns to run up the stairs - but can’t help but pause halfway up, panting, praying they won’t hurt each other.

“Marvin, stand down,” orders Red, straightening up.

“Fuck you!” shouts Marvin. “Fuck you, Anti!”

Anonymous asked: Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh no... ok, think carefully, Marvin! How can you convince Jackie? He's first and foremost the protector of his brothers right now, right? Including Anti. Maybe you can swing it like if you all leave, Anti is safer because he doesn't have to watch out for you all? It might be better to get Jackie away while still loyal to Anti so you can work on helping him back to himself safely. And if you have to run, run, ok? You only have so much time while Anti is distracted.

“Jackie, listen to them, listen to - ”

“I can’t! You know that!”

“Just for one fucking second, Jackie, listen to me!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Marvin screams rage, striking his hand against the wall and leaving a black mark upon its surface.

florenceisfalling asked: trick, you might have to come downstairs and lend a hand. things aren't going well between the boys.

“Wh-what?” he stammers.

You find him and Dapper awake, sitting at the side of the bed, curled up between blankets together. They look like they were having a good time, even though Dapper is pale and wan.

“What’s going on? I can’t leave puppy’s side. Is… is Doktor okay?”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Guys, come on. Work through this TOGETHER. You're BROTHERS.

“That is not my brother!” howls Marvin. “That is just the shell that Anti left behind! You killed my Jackie! You killed him! You killed my best friend!”

Blue light explodes through the dungeon like a flash of lightning. Red falls back, shocked by the onslaught of light and color, overwhelming.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Screw it. Do what you need to, blue dude.

Marvin surges forward like a thunderstorm. He is faster than Jackie, slighter and more coordinated; he grabs his injured wrist out of the air and squeezes, eyes burning. Red yelps and drives his knee up into Marvin’s stomach, sending him reeling back.

“I’m more powerful than you are,” hisses Blue, fire burning along his fingers, roses snarling their way out of the concrete floor of the basement. “You really want to keep dancing, love?”

“I’m not afraid of you or death,” replies Red coldly, picking up his chain.

Anonymous asked: Dok, maybe see if you can get all the way upstairs, with Trick and Dapper? The basement seems very ugly, you might want to get further away.

“Wh-why won’t they stop?” moans Doktor, covering his face with his hands. “M-make them stop.”

Anonymous asked: Didn't doktor go back up the stairs? So yeah I'd say he's relatively okay

Trick gets up from the blankets, leaving Dapper with a pat on the head, and makes his way to the top of the stairs, clutching his gun tight.

“Deutsch?” he calls, scared. “It’s Trick, I’m right here. Everything okay?”

“Trick,” returns the familiar voice, and Trick’s blood lights up with adrenaline at the fear there. “Trick, Trick. I want this to stop.” He pulls himself to his feet and drags himself to the stairs.

Anonymous asked: No Henrik/Dok don’t go upstairs!!! Please don’t go up there, Trick will shoot anyone who goes up the stairs!! (An anon and nikkilbook sent similar warnings and were added)

Whimpering, Doktor falls back down at the bottom of the stairs, his grief tangible from fourteen steps away. “I can’t even go to my twin? I want to go lie down in the nest and be safe.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, take Dapper downstairs, you won't be leaving him, but the others need you.

“Wh-what? Anti told me to stay up here! I’m supposed to be protecting him!”

Frantic, he glances back towards the room, where Dapper’s head is poking out of the door, his eyes wide and curious.

Anonymous asked: HELL YEAH, KICK HIS ASS, MARV!

Blood-strike, fury-smell like electricity in the air. Marvin lashes out like a panther, a clawed hand reaching for Red’s face, remembering the taste of his own power.

Red kicks at his knee, sending him to the ground, and grabs him by the throat. Marvin shrieks loud enough to disorient Red, beginning to feel nauseous from the thousand sensations and emotions bearing down on him. He drops Marvin and his brother is up again, leaving a blow in his stomach, sending him reeling back, gagging -

He thinks he hears something like static, but Anti is not close enough to stop this.

Anonymous asked: Jesus christ, Anti only leave for a bit and everything goes to shit

Dapper crawls up into his bed, afraid, and closes his eyes, praying to his brother for him to come back soon.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick, Dok is trying to come upstairs. DO NOT SHOOT.

“No, no, don’t,” Trick begs, his hands shaking around the gun. “Don’t, Dok, Anti told me to shoot and I - I will. I don’t know if you’re you. Just stay down there, bro. It’s going to be okay.”

Anonymous asked: The three little ones, calm down. It's okay. Blue is having a little trouble settling in, so he's a bit angry right now. Red is handling it. Trick, can you bring Dapper to the top of the stairs, and Doktor, you can sit at the bottom, maybe bring some blankets from the nest? Then everyone is following orders, everyone is safe, and everyone is together. Anti will come when he can to fix it, and you three won't be in trouble.

“There’s some sense,” breathes Trick, setting down his gun. “Dok, I’ll be right back.”

He returns to the room and approaches Dapper, who watches him trustingly - this isn’t the first time he’s been handed over to an older brother’s care, and he’s used to being casually ordered around, so he doesn’t even flinch when Trick scoops him up, blankets and all, laughing a little, and carries him over to the top of the stairs. Trick sits with his feet on the last stair and Dapper mimics him, sitting against his shoulder, rubbing his face, starting to feel better.

“There we go.” Trick smiles and sighs out a shaky breath. “We’re all okay, right? We’re all okay. Red is handling it. No worries. I got my brothers. We’re all okay.”

Anonymous asked: marvin!!!! blue!! no! anti hurts his brothers. you are not like anti!! stop hurting jackie!

“Maybe I am! He washed me away, remember? I don’t even know who Marvin is! And I certainly don’t know who you are, Red!”

Red pants hard, staggering away from him, but Marvin keeps coming.

spicydanhowell asked: trick, don't move, doktor, lie down and close your eyes. just breathe, red... stay with us ok? you're gonna be ok. you're the big brother.

“I’m not the big brother,” he groans. “I haven’t been in a long time. Just the commander. Just Anti’s alpha dog. I’m just fooling myself. I want this to stop - stop - stop.” He grips at his hair, moaning.

nikkilbook asked: Red. The other day, when you were so overwhelmed. Blue knew what to do. Even when you were young, did Anti ever do that for you? Or did he just leave you to figure it out yourself?

“It’s not Anti’s fault he can’t help me when I get like this,” chokes Red, slamming against the wall. “Not his fault I can’t t-take this much sensation - not his fault the boy made him like he was a monster, with the shrieking and the glitching, the color and the pain - I want him to come home, please!”

Anonymous asked: STOP!! You're just going to hurt each other, and if you keep going Anti is just gonna punish everyone!

“Let’s be honest!” shouts Marvin. “We’re already fucked anyway!”

He swings a hand into the air and the rosebushes explode like a wall of thorns, crawling up Red’s legs. He screams as they bite into his calves, and a low sob chokes its way from Marvin’s throat, backing away from the sight of his own power.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he gasps. “It has to be like this.”

musical-in-theory asked: Red you are a fantastic person making the best out of a really shitty situation. You don’t have to do this. For once you have control over what you do right here, right now. What’ll you choose, hero?

���No, no,” sobs Red, thorns growing up his body. “Look what I’ve become. Does this look like a hero to you? I can’t even save my own twin from himself.”

Marvin is backing away, distressed. He waves his hand again, trying to get the roses to stop rising, but they don’t answer him.

Anonymous asked: red. listen to blue. if you don't, anti will torture him for hurting you. he'll torture you for not succeeding. and he'll continue to torture all of you, over little things and big things, for the rest of your lives. this is your chance to protect your brothers.

“He’ll torture me if I stay, torture me if I go.”

“No,” cries Marv, waving his hand again, increasingly frantic. “That’s not true. We can keep each other safe!”

spicydanhowell asked: he's injured, red. he can't fight you. get him under control or anti is going to hurt you much worse than blue ever could... i don't want that to happen to you red... just keep him quiet and keep him safe until anti comes back.

“Please,” whispers Red. He tears with shaking hands at the rose thorns on his chest, struggling to breathe. “Please. Let’s do that. Blue, Blue. Marvin. Just st-stay with me. Please. You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, fuck,” pants Marvin, reaching forward to tear at the thorns. Blood blooms on his hands, and the roses keep coming. “Don’t say that, don’t…”

nikkilbook asked: But is here really safe? How is this better than out there? How is sleeping above a dungeon and below a torturer safe? How is starving yourself to keep them fed safe? If the only way you can keep them protected is to beat them to keep them in line, how on earth is that better than even the slightest chance at escape?

Red bursts into sobs, collapsing. Marvin cries out as he falls into the thick carpet of thorns, reaching out to grab him, tearing his own arms up.

“I hate living like this,” admits Red, clutching at his brother’s hands.

“I know,” chokes Marvin. “I know you do. Oh, fuck, my poor big brother.”

“I can’t breathe!”

“Calm down, calm down! It’s okay, Jackie, it’s okay.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, Marvin has never once told you that you have to earn his love or trust. He's giving it to you because he cares about you and will never stop caring about you. Anti is the only one with limits because he doesn't care about you. He can't. Go with Marvin. Marvin will help you no matter what! You have to let him

“Yes, yes,” Marvin pants, pulling Red up from the thorns. “I - I shouldn’t have done this, I’m sorry, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re going to leave me alone.”

Marvin closes his eyes tight.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Unless you come with me.”

loganandoli asked: Red. No, Jackie. Do you remember the first time you ever saved someone? Be it a bank robbery, a mugging, anything. Do you remember their wide eyes and smiles when they realized a hero has come to rescue them? Do you remember the feeling of joy and pride to know that you saved so many people? That you left a permanent mark of safety on your home? If you can remember any of that, realize that Anti is making you do the exact opposite of what you have been working on doing for so long.

“I remember my brothers, sitting against my chest, around my feet, under my arm, trusting me to protect them… now look what’s become of them…”

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: Go ahead marvin get angry use the power you were given

“I shouldn’t have done this,” Marvin sobs. “You called me kind, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

nikkilbook asked: Who cares what a hero looks like. You’re Jackie. That’s all that matters.

Marvin yanks him out of the thorns, and the roses choke and die, having served their purpose to him. They collapse together at the foot of the stairs, panting hard, clutching each other’s arms.

Clutching each other tight.

Marvin’s heart is shaking like it will shatter. Red cries, ashamed but too tired to care.

“Please,” he begs. “Let me save you.”

“You’ve forgotten what salvation is,” whispers Marvin.

He moves forward and knocks their heads gently together. They breathe in sync, clutching at each other’s sleeves.

“I love you,” Marvin mumbles, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. But we don’t have time for this, my friend. I’m going, now. Are you coming with me, or will you stay?”

“It doesn’t matter,” murmurs Red, lying against the floor, exhausted. “We can’t get away.”

“I can’t try to convince you any longer. Choose.”

Red stares up at him. Stares at you. Stares at his own scarred, burnt, wretched wrists.

“You’re the one with a choice to make,” whispers Jackie, drawing back. “I can’t get up, I need time to rest, and I know that even if I want to go with you now, Anti will make me Red again when he catches us. And he will, Marvin. He will catch us. So choose, Blue - Stay with me and we can look after each other, even in a place like this. Or go. I won’t fight you.”

Marvin stares at him. Red stares back.

“But we will never see each other again,” he finishes softly.

He closes his eyes. Leaves the choice in his brother’s hands.

Marvin is gone the next time he opens his eyes.

Jackie McLoughlin smiles, laughs, and swallows hard, letting his head fall against the bloodied floor, tears dripping steady from his starry eyes. He waits patiently to be Red again. He’s never a hero for long.

Anonymous asked: Oh, Jackie. :'( You're breaking my heart, man. But I know what an impossible situation you're in. I know you're doing what you can in the aftermath of everything Anti's put you through. I recognize all your bravery and strength. I recognize all your gentleness and love. And know that even now, and even if Anti makes you Red again, and no matter what, you are wholeheartedly and entirely a hero to your brothers and to all of us. This is not how you will end.

Jackie stares up at you, a smile flickering across his lips, and then grief again, and then joy, and then…

Tired, tired, tired.

“I’m sorry for breaking your heart,” he tells you, low and earnest. “Thank you for being here with me. I’m very… tired of… of being alone.”

Blood runs sluggishly from his wrist and his legs. He shakes, pants, cries soft and quiet.

musical-in-theory asked: Jackie we will never give up on you. Is there anything you want to tell us or even Red while you’re still you?

“Oh, what a thought,” he murmurs. “A good idea. But my head is full of cotton just now. If you would please just… just try to keep him company.”

Jackie lays his head down on the ground. “Doesn’t matter who a person is all alone, you know… we are the people we love, and the people who love us.”

His voice trembles.

“And I am no one at all.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Be strong, Red....you will get through this.

“Forgive me,” he says.

So quiet you can barely hear him.

Something drips slowly nearby. His limbs have gone very still. His mouth is dry and empty.

“I think I’m going to sleep now,” he mumbles, closing his tired eyes. “I think I’m going to sleep. Thank you… forgive me.”

cest-mellow asked: marvin can’t you carry him? don’t you have a spell that can make jackie easy to take with you?? don’t leave him there!!

“Please, don’t say that! He made his choice, I - please, if you beg me, I would stay with him, and I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! Even if I love him! Even if I can’t bear to leave him alone! Oh, please, don’t tell me the truth. He made his choice and even if I could carry him, his heart would not come with me.”

Marvin is crying, but it does not matter. He tears up the stairs, his heart beating hard in his chest.

“Now I can only hope to get myself and my little ones free, whichever of them we can convince to come with us.”

The screen glitches softly at the corners, a harsh buzz rising in your ears.

“Anti is coming,” whispers Marvin, taking a deep breath. “We go now, and pray to God that we can get away. I don’t care about the chances anymore. I’m not going to give in. We’re going. We’re going. We’re running, right now. And I am getting my brothers away.”

The buzzing reaches a horrible shriek and your whole screen bursts into glitching. Across the screen, those all-too-familiar green words are flickering.

“Ĭ̢̜͝ w̧̙̝̲̓̔̾͡ĭ̢̜͝l͈̯̾̀l͈̯̾̀ n͕̰̳̏͝͡e͎̫̻͕͒͒̑̃̊͟v̨̖̪͔̋̌̋̈́e͎̫̻͕͒͒̑̃̊͟ṙ̻ l͈̯̾̀e͎̫̻͕͒͒̑̃̊͟t͙́ t͙́h̫̜̓̂á̘͉̉t͙́ h̫̜̓̂á̘͉̉p̠͖̠̈́͋p̠͖̠̈́͋e͎̫̻͕͒͒̑̃̊͟n͕̰̳̏͝͡.”

 End Section Five of Chapter One.

Find the masterlist for this chapter here.