#sorry if my tone gets weird near the end I have... Feelings about Paul

[gaycey-sketchit]

(Gary anon) And of course there's the infamous "Professor Oak cares more about Ash than he does Gary" that was 'borrowed' from their game counterparts. To this day, I don't understand how you'd get that impression looking at OS alone. Just because Ash and Oak had more on-screen interactions, does not mean he favors him over his grandson. Not even after Gary lost indigo and loosened up. (Yeah, I've seen that one. Seen a few on it) I imagined being born into a celebrity family

.

(Part 2) is bound to cause a kid to have self-esteem issues, no matter how hard the parents try to give the kid a relatively normal life. (The question is, how'd they do it? Cause they can't just drop him and not give some explanation why) I'm sure he still has the ability to annoy Ash, he just has no reason to do it currently. That's what Goh's for. :P (Not doubt those losses humbled him and caused him to do some soul-searching before getting back in the game. And pushes this wisdom onto Ash)

(Part 3) (OP talk: Hmm, where to start? Okay, based on yesterday's episode. I can definitely Leon bending the rules so Ash can all 3 gimmicks in the final battle. Lucario being shown as the one to face Charizard has me suspicious. If this IS Ash's last series and final hurdle, wouldn't Pikachu be more appropriate. Maybe ) Guess the other Regis will be the final mission before Mew. (Contest Chloe is back in discussion again and may be connected to Wallace and his niece) One of the animator)

(Part 4) (stated; like certain older OPs, some scenes might get updated as the episodes go on. I guess it's that montage that showed us who came and who's coming, may have people switched out later. So there's still surprises left. (Speaking on who's coming. I suspecting Greninja, Clemont, and Bonnie, will be bundled together. Maybe Zygarde related; maybe Greninja finally re-joins Ash) Purple-haired guy himself: Had an increasingly strong feeling he was coming; with Cynthia

(Part 5) being back, her words from DP come back full force. Maybe he and Ash will shake hands this time, only rival who's never done this. Curious how he'd be portrayed; not in the camp that thinks he'd mess with Goh and be harsh on him for no reason. Someone pointed out the shot he's in resembles the location of the Sinnoh League. There or the Battle Frontier is where i would expect the battle. (*ahem* I have no room to talk because I want this for Gary; for different non-PWC reasons,)

(Part 6) (but I don't get why some fans are SO sure the writers will do a third 6v6 with this guy? As opposed to doing that with Cynthia; which I don't think is happening either. An Infernape vs Electivire rematch I can sorta understand; but again, we're most likely get something with Torterra than a rehash of that climatic fight again. A 3v3 is likely at most)

Yeah, I have never understood how anyone could think that's the case in anime canon? Animeverse Professor Oak loves his grandson so much and is always so proud of him, it's very sweet.

Absolutely--being born into that, realizing when you're a child that everyone has these Expectations of you because of your family name... it'd have to be a lot of pressure. It's no wonder we see him get so down on himself at perceived failures.

That is the question... I really don't know. I wonder if the Viridian Gym has actually managed to keep anyone in the position long-term since Giovanni left.

Yeah, I guess he's just picked his target for the time being. No need to mess with Ash right now.

For sure. A brutal loss at the Viridian Gym followed by being taken out in the preliminaries of the league... he kind of got the ego beaten out of him. Had to make him realize he needed to change.

Lots of interesting stuff! I'm really excited for the possibility of Chloe doing a contest, contests are one of my favorite things to watch in the anime and it'd be a good opportunity to show or at least mention some other coordinators.

Yeah, I saw some talk of that, considering that bit has pretty brief shots without much animation. Exciting stuff! I wonder who else we'll get to see!

I won't lie, I'm wary of how Paul will be handled. I've expressed before that I don't like him, but I also acknowledge that he's an excellent character, and he's such a good character because he's such a bad person. His rivalry with Ash in DP was one of DP's strongest points for how their conflict of principles raised the stakes. And not knowing how that'll carry over makes me nervous.

I don't think Infernape should have to face its abuser again. It already triumphed against him. When Ash faces Paul again, hopefully it'll be something different.

But putting that aside, looks like things are going to be very interesting in the coming months! I'm eager to see what the future holds for these characters!

[vampiredecay]

Hey dear, i have a weird request but could you do a Lost boys X reader or Marko x reader Where all the boys (Marko Dwayne David paul Micheal all of them or just marko Dwayne David paul) see the reader re put bandages on his scar but the scars would be like carls in the walking dead and they see the scar ( i wonder how they would react to it?)

thank you so much for the request, sorry it took me a hot second to post! its longer than my other stories on here so far, so i hope that makes up for it. i also hope that you like what i did with it!! its angsty in the beginning but it gets fluffier <3

Scar Tissue

rating: teen

word count: 2,908

tags/warnings: swearing, mentions of being in pain, mentions of scars, mentions of being in the hospital, harassment, fluff, the boys being sweet, the lost boys x male!reader, male pronouns used, poly!lost boys

--

You could have never predicted how your life had gone so sideways. Not in a million years- before the accident, you were pretty much an average joe. Decent family, decent friends, decent existence. Nothing was ever really exciting, but you were okay with that. Life didn’t need to be crazy or unpredictable to be fulfilling.

But, you supposed, the price of being a living being on this Earth was that life could never truly be predictable at all. It couldn’t be, with the events that followed you losing your eye, and pretty much all normalcy you grew to live with.

It was extremely painful at first, physically and emotionally. You had lost a vital part of your body, and you could never get it back. It was disorienting, and uncomfortable, like an itch you could never scratch. The skin around your eye was incredibly sensitive, the lightest movement or touch sending shockwaves of burning pain through your nerves. Tears were always on the brink of spilling over anytime you or a doctor had to replace medicine and bandages to keep the wound clean.

In the end, the pain wasn’t the worst part about it. No, you could deal with the pain. The people in your life, however, suddenly changing and disappearing was way, way worse.

Friends slowly stop coming to visit you at the hospital, calls go unanswered, gazes averted. Your parents supported you, of course. They still loved you, and you knew nothing could change that. But sometimes even they got this look in their eyes, something a little too close to pity.

It was an incredibly lonely first couple of months.

But the loneliness and the heartache slowly healed, along with your eye. The scarring lightened and stopped bleeding, and your skin no longer felt as if it was on fire every time you turned your head. You still had to keep it under wraps, to keep out infection, and to keep other people from seeing how bad it was. You knew that people seeing the bandages would cause looks and questions, but it was better than people actually seeing the wound, which would surely cause reactions that you didn’t have the patience to deal with.

As you were healing, you were also relearning how to do things in your daily life. Your sight and depth perception drastically changed, so things like walking and doing simple tasks had to be practiced all over again. You had to take things slow, which you hated, you couldn’t leave the house very often until you got used to walking without bumping into things.

The first place you wanted to go once you were able to was the boardwalk. It was one of your favorite places in the world, so loud and full of life and happiness. It was absolutely what you needed after all of the hardship you had to deal with lately.

So one night, when it got late and your parents turned in for the night, you went out and caught a bus to the nearest stop to the boardwalk. From there you walked until you saw the bright lights and heard loud screaming and chatter and laughter. You smiled as you took in the sight of the people and the games and the rides, it felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

The first thing you did was buy a big thing of cotton candy and a soda, roaming the boardwalk and consuming sugary goodness. As you walked, you noticed that some people were giving you looks, but you ignored them, focused on just having a good time and living your best life.

Walking around for long periods of time still gave you a bit of trouble, you were starting to get a little dizzy, so after a bit you sat down on a bench to give your brain time to catch up with the rest of your body. This was nice too, you got to relax and just watch people for a bit. There were all sorts of people out tonight, families and tourists and couples, teenagers and surf nazis and locals, all in one spot, the heart of Santa Carla, enjoying the wonders it had to offer.

There was a group of guys that caught your eye, though. You didn’t mean to stare at them; in fact, you knew not to, you’ve seen them around the boardwalk in the past, and heard the rumors surrounding them. But, in your defense, it has been a while since you’ve been there, and you forgot how magnetic they can be.

They were milling near their motorbikes, smoking and talking and lightly harassing anyone that happened to walk by. Three blondes and two brunettes- had there always been five of them? You could have sworn there was only four- all dressed in black and leather, looking dangerous and infuriatingly hot. You would have noticed more, but by accident you make eye contact with one of the guys and you rip your attention away from them.

Shit, god damnit, you’ve been spotted now. There’s only one thing to do, and it’s to walk quickly away and hope you don’t run into them later.

You get up too quickly though, and you stumble straight into a man walking with who you assume to be his girlfriend.

“Hey! Watch it-” He starts to say, pissed off that someone ran into him, but then he takes a good look at you and lets out a laugh. “Oh, I guess you really can’t, huh?”

The girlfriend lets out a giggle, smirking behind a hand over her lips. You mumble out an apology and try to go around them, but the man blocks your path. “What was that? C’mon man I can’t hear you, you mute too or something?”

You look up at him and scoff, anger building inside you. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Without thinking, you say “Yeah, real funny and original. Bet lines like that really score you in bed.”

There’s some laughter around you, making you realize that a crowd has been drawn. The man’s face turned bright red, his mouth curved downward into a frown and he got up in your space. “Oh, so you’re a tough guy now, huh?” He pushed you in the chest, making you stumble back. You get dizzy and almost fall, but you don’t hit the ground. Instead, your back hits someone's chest. You freeze, then slowly turn your head, to see a guy with spiky platinum blond hair staring at the man who pushed you. The four other guys with him were also there, glaring at the crowd of people just watching.

You turned to look back at the man who pushed you, all the color was drained from his face. His girlfriend was clutching his arm, trying to pull the man away but his feet were glued in place. The blond behind you smirked.

“There a problem here?”

The silence that swept over was deafening and unnatural, it was like all of the boardwalk was holding its breath waiting for an answer. The man swallowed, eyes gliding over the gang behind you, not focusing on one spot. “N-No, man. No problem.”

You let out a breath as you watch the man and his girlfriend back up, and the crowd starts to disperse. The man behind you gives a shark-like grin and chuckles deep. “Wonderful.” He says, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away. You can hear your heart thundering in your chest as you walk away with them, listening as they laugh and push each other.

“N-No m-man, n-no p-problem!” One of the blonds says in a mocking wavering tone, “What a fuckin pussy!” The gang starts laughing again, it feels like the ground underneath your feet is rumbling from the force of it. After a little more walking, they stop in front of a different bench and gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a load off, little man!” You snorted as you sat down, grinning despite the slight lightheadedness. Two of the blonds sat next to you, one with a wild mane of hair and a smile to match swinging an arm behind you. You look at all of them, nodding your head a little bit. “Thank you,” You said softly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The spiky blond shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said, and he nodded. “I’m David. This is Dwayne, Michael,” He gestured to the two brunettes, one with curly hair and sunglasses hanging off his shirt, the other with longer straight hair and not wearing a shirt at all. “And that’s Paul and Marko.” The two blonds next to you do little waves, the one that wasn’t right next to you has curly hair and a jacket so cluttered with patches it must be heavy.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N!” Paul says, nudging his knee against yours, making you smile more. “It’s good to meet you guys, too.”

After the introductions were out of the way, David offered for you to hang out with them, but you declined, saying you needed to get home. At that David offered a ride instead. You hesitated, but accepted in the end. Riding behind him on his bike was terrifying and exhilarating, you clutched his middle tightly the whole way home, but the blond didn’t seem to mind.

“You should come to the boardwalk more often,” David said as you got off his bike, now at your house. He smiled at you like he was letting you in on a secret, “We’re there all night.”

From that point on, you couldn’t ignore the boy's siren call. The next couple days you would take the bus over, wander until you found them, and then do stupid shit with them all night. A lot of it consisted of them terrorizing people who even looked at them funny, but you didn’t find it scary anymore. You found it powerful. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It wasn’t long, though, until the questions started. You supposed you should have seen it coming, but hanging out with them honestly made you forget.

“So Y/N,” Paul said one night, it was just you and him and Marko. You were leaning against the railing in front of the carousel, waiting for the others to get back from getting food. When you looked over at Paul, he asked “What’s up with the eye?”

Marko punched Paul's shoulder, giving him a look, and Paul threw his hands up dramatically. “What? I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious.”

You sighed a little bit, mulling over what to say. You weren’t mad that he asked, you just hated talking about it. “There’s nothing much to say.” You said after a couple seconds of silence. “I was in an accident. Got fucked up. End of story.” Paul and Marko both nodded, taking the hint not to ask anymore. The taller blond wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head. A silent apology. You smiled a little and leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

After that, David, Dwayne and Michael arrived back with food, and once everyone settled down at a nearby table to eat, David proposed that they go back to their place after eating. You were nervous to accept, but they were cool guys so far, so you didn’t see the harm in it.

Before you could voice your opinion, however, a sudden cold, wet substance suddenly splashed all over your face. You yelped and got up, trying to shake off whatever the fuck it was, when you heard laughter getting distant. Suddenly, the boys were all getting up and shouting, someone was holding onto your shoulders, and when you wiped at your eye you could see it was Dwayne. He looked absolutely livid.

“What the fuck just happened?” You asked, looking down at yourself, disgusted to find that your clothes were soaked now too. The brunette gripped your shoulders a little tighter, not enough to hurt but the pressure was there, “Some people have a death wish.”

You would have asked him to elaborate, but then something dawned on you. “Oh shit!” You exclaim, hand going up to your bandaged eye. “Fuck, I have to get home, I have to change this, fuck!” Dwayne's eyes widened a little, and he nodded, calling attention to the other boys, who were all talking angrily to each other. They all looked over, and when they heard that you needed to change your bandage, they all hurried over. “Our place is closer. Michael, take Y/N to get the supplies he needs. We’ll meet back up at the hotel.” David all but commanded, and everyone seemed to be in agreement. The rest of the boys took off on their bikes while Michael steered you in the direction of a small convenience store on the edge of the boardwalk.

“You okay?” Michael asked, worry written all over his face. You nodded at him, though in reality you were feeling gross, sticky and anxious as hell. You thought it was so nice of them to help you out, really, but you knew this meant that they would probably end up seeing your eye. Seeing your scars. The thought alone was enough to make you slightly nauseous. The brunette could tell that something more was going on with you, so he gently took your hand as you approached the shop. You looked at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your hand gently. You gave a light smile back and looked away.

After buying the necessary wrap, tape and some bottles of water, you both get on Michaels bike and ride off to their place. You were just thinking about it now, David had said the word “hotel”. Did they stay at an actual hotel?

It didn’t take you long to figure out. When you arrived at the hotel, that was really more of a cave, you were in absolute awe of the place. It was massive and beautiful, you couldn’t believe these guys actually lived here. You had so many questions, but now that you were here, they would have to come after.

Michael led you over to a slightly dusty couch and you sat down, holding the items in your hands nervously. Everyone was sitting around you, you had a very attentive audience that you didn’t really want.

“Is there, uh, a private place I could do this?” You asked, and your heart sank when they shook their heads. “Most of the rooms collapsed when the earthquake hit. There’s not much left, and the parts that remain are too dangerous to go into.” Marko explained, and you sighed. You supposed there was no getting around it.

“Okay, well. Just, don’t say anything, okay?” You got out the bandage wrap from its packaging and took a deep breath. Slowly, you unwrapped the dirty bandage from around your face, revealing your eye to the boys.

All of their facial expressions changed, some more surprised than others. David looked the least shocked, eyes of steel trained on your face, just looking. Dwayne and Michael looked a little more concerned, Michael especially, but otherwise they tried to keep their expressions neutral. Paul and Marko looked intrigued, if anything. Like they wanted to ask questions but were reigning themselves in.

Overall, they kept quiet, and they didn’t shy away from your appearance, so you counted your blessings as you cleaned and dressed your eye as quickly as possible. When you were all finished, Marko and Paul launched themselves at you, sitting next to you with wide smiles on their faces.

“Dude! You’re so badass!” Paul shouted, and Marko was quick to agree. “You should get an eyepatch or something. Crank up the badass factor.”

You laughed at their antics, blushing a bit at their words. You could tell that they really thought you were actually cool. It warmed your chest and you smiled as they went on about eyepatch ideas.

Eventually, David dragged the two away, saying it's getting late and they should probably take you home now. You nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. You didn’t realize just how tired you were.

Dwayne was the one who ended up taking you home, the ride was a lot gentler and smoother than it usually was, which you were grateful for. When you arrived at your house, and you got off his bike, Dwayne pulled on your arm before you could leave. You looked at him, confused, but then he got off his bike, and he stood in front of you, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You froze, heart pounding. Dwayne pulled away and let go, giving you a small smile. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard as he got back on his bike. “Yeah- you too.” You stumbled out, making him chuckle. He then rode back off into the night, and you were left stunned on your front lawn.

You didn’t know what would happen now, you had absolutely no clue when it came to the gang of bikers. But you found yourself at peace with it.

Life could never be predictable anymore. And you were more than okay with that.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Have you been asked yet to rank Trust eps? Cos I'm asking! But your the criteria for ranking I leave to you to decide.

Ahahahaha I’ll have you know I put way too much thought into this. :-D

Ok so first of all, there is no such thing as a bad episode of Trust. The whole thing is really tightly written, every character and plot thread has a purpose, and even the episodes that I haven’t watched over and over again are important to the overall story. And a lot of the impact of the show comes from things that are cumulative over multiple episodes.

That being said, I do have favorites. Since the definitive ranking of Primo’s outfits has already been taken care of, here is my ranking from least to most favorite based on some nebulous criteria of artistic/narrative effectiveness and emotional impact, my judgement of which is obviously highly subjective and also correct.

Under the cut because this got ummm unbelievably, ridiculously long.

10. The House of Getty (episode 1)

Sorry Danny Boyle and Simon Beaufoy, the pilot is my least favorite episode. Still think it was the wrong choice to open with a flashy (and, I can tell, expensive) sequence showcasing the death of a character we literally never see again. And, look, I’m an impatient viewer. If I don’t get someone to root for/emotionally identify with/otherwise catch my interest early on in a narrative, I’ll tune out. And Old Paul is not only unlikeable--far from a mortal sin in dramatic storytelling--he’s boring. I don’t care about any of his rich people problems, and I’m not the kind of viewer who can be kept engaged just by hating someone and watching them be terrible.

Some of the secondary characters in the Getty household do have interesting plotlines, but we don’t get to learn very much about them in the first episode. And I do think things get interesting once Little Paul shows up (although I maintain that the whole episode is more interesting if we understand what the stakes are for Paul getting the money), but if I had started watching this show with no context I wouldn’t have made it past Old Paul’s pre-coital erotica listening routine.

If this had been anything other than the first episode I might not have ranked it last, but extra penalty points for leading with your least interesting characters.

9. Lone Star (episode 2)

This episode is, I think, saddled by the fact that it has to do a lot of heavy lifting in terms of exposition and setup. It mostly works because Chace is an entertaining narrator, and once we get to Italy with Gail I think things zip along at a pretty good pace. Opens with an attempted rape to show how Bad the Bad Guys are, which is...not my favorite trope.

Once again, I think a lot of the information in this episode would have worked better if episode 3 had been episode 1. (We’d already know who Berto was when Chace meets him; we’d already know about the box of guns in the apartment; we’d know when certain characters are lying.) This whole show runs on the suspense of the audience being the only party who knows what’s going on with all the characters at once; I think trading mystery for suspense here was the wrong move. I also can’t help thinking there was pressure to front-load the well-known American actors in the beginning of the show at the expense of the strongest narrative choices.

Imo the best thing about this episode is the sort of...multiple competing images of Paul that emerge. His mom sees him as an innocent victim who couldn’t possibly have planned any of this. Chace sees him as a spoiled rich kid trying to swindle his granddad. Neither one of them has the complete truth.

Next we get into some episodes that are certainly not bad, but their greatness is more on the level of some bangin’ individual scenes than a whole package.

8. John, Chapter 11 (episode 6)

Again, this isn’t a bad episode. The main reason I put it near the end of the list is that the first time through I got sort of impatient during the first half. We, the audience, by virtue of our extra-textual knowledge, know that Paul can’t be dead, and we spend about half the episode before we know what really happened to him, which felt a bit too long to me.

This episode does have some fantastic individual scenes including: Leo talking Primo down in the farmhouse, Leo and Paul’s conversation about Angelo’s death, Gail being an absolute badass, and the meeting between Salvatore and Old Paul. A lot of these scenes are essential on a thematic level, but I don’t think the episode as a whole is the most streamlined.

7. Consequences (episode 10)

I debated for a while where to put this episode because the overall feeling of 57 Chekov’s guns going off in the space of one episode is SO satisfying, and the resolutions of some of the individual plotlines are delicious. Ultimately I would have liked more space for Paul and Gail and less Old Paul being grumpy about his substitute child museum’s mediocrity (although the scene with the bad reviews is hilarious). Once again I feel like the show creators felt they had to pull the focus back to Old Paul to wrap things up and I just. don’t care.

That being said. The resolution of Primo’s storyline? SO SATISFYING. And tbh I don’t dislike the scenes that exist with Paul and Gail; even the happy scenes have this poignant tone to them. I think they were trying to deal with the fact that his irl story is just...incredibly fucking tragic, and you can see a bit of the strain showing.

6. Kodachrome (episode 7)

I know episode 7 is not one of your personal favorites, but it’s the one where I think jumping between multiple plotlines/sets of characters is used to the most satisfying dramatic effect. It has this sense of dramatic irony that feels like some Shakespearean family tragedy. The whole episode, we are hoping that Paul Jr. will finally do the thing we want him to do, which is stand up to his father. And he does it--but at the absolute worst, most selfish and destructive moment possible.

Paul Jr. may be the literal worst, but I do have compassion for him in the flashbacks, mostly because it seems painfully apparent that no matter what he does, he will never be able to please his father. But he doesn’t seem to realize this, and he keeps trying, even as it’s destroying him and his relationship with his family. Credit to Michael Esper for his performance for making me feel a smidgen of compassion for this bastard.

I think the other thing this episode shows is how both of Paul’s parents keep putting him, a child, into roles and circumstances that he shouldn’t really be in. He’s wandering around through what seem like very much adult environments with his dad and Talitha in Morocco. In the Trust version of events he’s there when Talitha ODs and is the one trying to revive her while his dad is having a breakdown in the corner. Gail seems like the more responsible parent but there’s something about her bringing Paul as her “date” on a night out, and the understanding that this is a thing that happens regularly...to me the disturbing part is not so much bringing a young kid to a party with adults but the unspoken expectation that Little Paul will fill the void of companionship that his father has left empty. (Gettys expecting Little Paul to step in to cover for the failings of his father is a repeated theme, and it even plays into the ear thing. His family has failed to pay the ransom, so this is now a problem he has to solve himself.) Combine this all with Leonardo going, um, excuse me but what the actual fuck is wrong with your family? and I think it makes a very effective episode. And the last couple minutes had me yelling NOOOOOOOO GODDAMMIT because you can see what’s going to happen and you’re just watching it unfolding like a car wreck. Also has one of my hands-down favorite scenes, of Paul and Primo in the car waiting for the ransom.

5. White Car in a Snowstorm (episode 9)

The ~ D R A M A !!! ~ This episode is an opera. I mean this whole show is dramatique but episode 9 really leans into the vivid imagery--that snowy highway in the mountains above the sea, the all-white ransom exchange, Paul clinging to the pole at the shuttered Getty gas station, some Very Serious Mobsters throwing the ransom money around like idiots in a moment where you’re encouraged to be happy along with them.

This is also one of my favorite episodes for Primo and for Primo and Paul’s weird sometimes-alliance. Primo walking away from Salvatore to go tell Paul “they always pay in the end”? Primo and Paul teaming up to argue with Salvatore about why Paul shouldn’t die? Primo being all threateny to the doctor treating Paul because somewhere deep down he is worried (that’s my take and you’ll never convince me otherwise)? Primo dressing up to fake-scab on a postal strike in order to find a misplaced severed ear? All gold.

Fun fact: the letter Gail writes to President Nixon did happen in real life, but as far as I can tell the phone call did not. The real details of who convinced Old Paul to finally pay (some) of the ransom are considerably less cinematic. They’re the same amount of sexist though!

Ok now we are getting to the top tier...

4. That’s All Folks! (episode 4)

This is definitely the episode that took me from “ok this is fun” to “oh holy shit I’m invested now.” It’s the episode where we get introduced to most of the Calabrian characters and their world. It’s also the episode where we start to realize that Primo is not just a fun antagonist but is really a parallel protagonist to Little Paul, with his own set of relationships and motivations that we start to see from his POV. (I’d argue that, with the exception of his very first scene, we’ve mostly seen Primo through other characters’ gaze up until episode 4, and this is the point where we start watching him as like, the character whose pursuit of a goal we’re following over the course of the scene.)

This episode ranks high for capturing so much of the weird mix of tones that makes Trust work. It can be very funny. (I never fail to fuckin lose it when Fifty is on the phone with Gail the first time and when he’s talking to the thoroughly unimpressed newspaper switchboard operator.) It has this weird unexpected intimacy between characters you wouldn’t think would connect with each other. (Primo and Paul, Paul and Angelo; in retrospect the arc of the relationship between Primo and Leo gets started in that scene in Salvatore’s kitchen.) And it has one of the show’s absolute best record-scratch tone shifts when Primo gets the ransom offer. I remember saying “oh FUCK” out loud the first time I watched the end of that episode, when Primo comes back to the house, visibly drunk and clearly furious. We’ve seen him be violent plenty before now in the show, but always in a controlled, calculated way. This is the first time we see his potential for out-of-control rage-fueled violence and he’s terrifying!

3. La Dolce Vita (episode 3)

I stand by my claim that this episode (with a few minor continuity adjustments) should have been the pilot. Can you imagine a title card that’s like “Rome 1973” and then away we go with Paul snorting coke and taking racy photos and jumping on cops and fucking his girlfriend in what is definitely not proper museum etiquette, and then the smash cut to Primo intimidating and robbing and murdering people? And that’s the opening of the whole show? And you’re like how are these characters connected and then they meet each other and it’s the fucking sunflower field scene??

Anyway aside from the fact that I think knowing the information in this episode would have made episodes 1 and 2 more interesting...it’s just a great fucking episode. It’s kinetic and propulsive and funny and tense and violent and features Primo’s sniper skills and his ass in those cornflower blue trousers. I rest my case.

2. Silenzio (episode 5)

I’ll be honest, I went back and forth on the top two a bunch. Silenzio is definitely my personal favorite episode, and I’d argue that it’s the best written, in terms of what it accomplishes narratively, which is to keep you emotionally invested in both Paul and Angelo trying to escape with their lives, and Primo and Leonardo hunting them down. That’s so fucking hard!! And yes some of it is great acting but it starts from the foundation of the writing. It’s just such a perfect little self-contained horror movie, and it has this profound sense of fatalism to it, because you know from the beginning (if only by virtue of only being halfway through the series) that Paul is not going to escape, and you sort of know that there is only one way this will end for Angelo. And yet they escape by the skin of their teeth so! many! times!

It’s also the episode where you see how much power the ‘Ndrangheta has over people’s lives in this community: Salvatore is like God, calling his servants to him with the church bells. Combine that with the visuals of two characters running for their lives mostly on foot through this unforgiving landscape, and you really get the sense of this environment as a harsh place where most people have a very constrained set of choices, and the claustrophobia of that. You get the sense in this episode that everyone is trapped in these expectations of violence and duty and honor. Angelo did what anyone with compassion would do, and saved Paul from what seemed like certain death, and he’s doomed for it. At the same time Primo is doing exactly what anyone would expect him to do in response to a subordinate who disobeyed him. In some ways the end of the episode feels inevitable, unsurprising, and yet they do SUCH a good job of winding up the tension until the literal last seconds of the episode, and then releasing it with a big dramatic bang. It’s so good!!

1. In the Name of the Father (episode 8)

Ok I’ll be honest the ONLY reason In the Name of the Father edged out Silenzio for the top spot is that it is really clear they pulled out all the stops in terms of making this episode feel extra heightened in a show where everything is already heightened. Like, the cinematography is different? They still use handheld a lot but I swear there are more still shots and more extreme, editorial camera angles like that shot of Francesco looking upward in church where the camera is looking down from above him. I can’t tell if they actually tweaked the color grading or if the bright white and blood red just stand out against the Calabrian color palette which is mostly earth tones, browns and greens and blues.

There are just. So many layers to this episode. The imagery! The literal sacrificial lamb at the beginning, Francesco being guided by Leonardo through an act of violence against an animal, something that I’m sure they don’t even see as violence but just part of farm life, part of survival and in this case part of a celebration, but something that fathers teach their sons how to do as part of becoming a man in this world. Paul as the metaphorical sacrificial lamb later, drawing parallels to Jesus (the lamb of God), Isaac (a father sacrificing his son), any number of martyred saints, pick your Catholic imagery. The blood of the lamb on the tree stump and Paul’s blood on the stone. The communion wafer (the body and blood of Christ) and Francesco at the end with Paul’s blood and a literal piece of his body held in his hands the same way.

And then there is like, the suspense of watching everyone marking time through the steps of this community ritual that’s supposed to be a joyful, communal celebration, while we know that there is a secret ticking away under the surface. The slow unfolding of the lie told to one person spreading to everyone in the village, and then the knowledge that Salvatore knows spreading to all the people who’ll be in trouble for that. The relationship arcs between the main Calabrian characters...not resolving, but sliding into place for the final act. Primo finally being done with Salvatore. Primo and Leo’s alliance being cemented and Leo physically stepping between Primo and Salvatore, to protect Primo. (No one ever protects Primo!! Still not over it!!!!) The confirmation celebration as a mirror of the Getty party in episode 1, the parallels drawn between the 3 Pauls and Salvatore-Primo-Francesco and how Primo reacts to being passed over as heir vs. how Paul Jr. reacts. Little Paul having two whole minutes of screen time and managing to break your heart with them. Regina! Just...Regina’s whole everything. The music going all-instrumental for an episode and having this haunting, dreamlike but still tense quality to it. And the fact that we never cut away from Calabria to another plotline gives the whole episode this hypnotic, all-encompassing quality. It’s just. SO GOOD!!!!

[sonnetthebard]

can you do a oneshot with peip spy paul and secret ccrp boss melissa? (yeah this is cause of the stuff sent to hatchetfieldtheories so what lmfao)

Um hell yeah I will! I have read the original theory, but you're also going to get my take on it because I got ideas just by reading the prompt lol. Apparently @hatchetfieldtheories and I are now getting lumped together and I am perfectly okay with that.

Genre: Action/ Thriller kinda?

Words: 2727 (once again... perfect)

TL;DR: Paul's cover as a PEIP agent is blown, and he finally gets to meet exactly who he's fighting against.

TW: Swearing, Guns, Violence, Murder, Blood.

______________________________________________________

Paul sighed, reading over his report before he sent it in. Was the report work related? No. Well... yes and no. Not for his job at CCRP technical. But as an agent of PEIP? It held information that could be absolutely crucial to the work they were doing. So it kind of had to be perfect. One mistype, a spelling mistake, could change the entire context of how it was read and how his superiors reacted. Perfection was key. Especially with what he had found. God, had he found out a lot.

Paul hadn't originally worked for PEIP. No. No, it was a bit of a long story. But... to sum it up, Paul had been caught dead in the centre of a world-ending event. An attack from what had looked like aliens at first but was actually an entity named Pokotho- or Pokey. Paul had very nearly died. He'd almost caused the end of the world. He had almost thrown a grenade dead into the centre of the meteor that was playing host to Pokey and his hivemind formula- which would have simply spread the spores. Luckily, one PEIP field agent- a Xander Lee- had managed to keep himself safe while his unit was infected, and he was able to stop Paul before he made a world-ending mistake.

Xander, through a lot of science Paul did *not* understand, was able to send Pokey back into his own dimension. The world was saved. It still kind of felt like a sci-fi fever dream. Most days, it still didn't feel real. The Hive had healed those it had destroyed, so... most people came back. Not Charlotte or Sam, because they weren't technically killed by the Hive. But Ted, Bill, Alice, Deb, Emma, and even Hidgens were back completely unscathed. Paul and Emma had actually gotten a chance to go to that movie. They were dating now. For three months, to the day. Paul had a bouquet of roses ready to surprise her with after work. He knew she wasn't usually big on the sappy romance stuff, but... he kinda was.

It was about a week after what was now widely known as the 'apotheosis' had passed when Paul got an email from Xander asking a favour. A very classified favour. Since Paul knew about PEIP and what it stood for. Apparently, they'd been picking up suspicious activity from CCRP for months, and they'd been trying to figure out which of their agents to send undercover. But every alias they'd made up had been rejected for an interview. So Xander got the idea that since Paul worked there, maybe he could keep an eye out for them. And as dangerous as it seemed... Paul said yes. The work PEIP did was too important to risk delaying. He was briefed through text, and he learned his job online in a matter of days. Ever since, he had been PEIP's agent in CCRP. And PEIP was more than right to be concerned.

Paul hummed, satisfied with his report. It was concise, precise, and detailed everything he'd seen. Which was a lot. This week... this week, he'd finally made his breakthrough. He was able to sneak to a higher level. Sylvia's level. She was talking on the phone about temporal breaches, trans-dimensional fluctuations, and lots of other jargon he didn't even come close to understanding. He'd bugged her office with a microphone PEIP had sent him so that they would understand more clearly. And when he'd snuck to the lower level, he was finally able to get past that second level of security. And what he'd found there was... eerie. He hadn't gone in. He just looked through the window. But it appeared there were hundreds, if not thousands, of... himself. Just standing there. He'd left a camera. Needless to say the report was more than full of information.

Paul heard the click of heels behind him and he quickly pressed send, closing the tab. He faked looking through his analytics before the clicking stopped. Paul could practically feel the presence looming behind him. At first, he just kept working as if he didn't notice. But... then it started to bug him. Because whoever the heeled coworker was who had stopped behind him was, they hadn't moved yet. He slowly turned, trying not to show any nerves. But he was a terrible liar, so he had a feeling that wasn't working. In front of him stood... oh good, Melissa. He sighed in relief.

"Hey Melissa. How's it going?" Paul asked.

"I need to see you for a moment... in Mr. Davidson's office." Melissa told him shyly.

"You need to see me?" Paul asked, still getting up nonetheless. This was Melissa. She was a sweetheart. She probably had a computer problem.

"Yeah... don't worry, it won't take of your much time." Melissa bit her lip, walking away. Paul followed.

"Did Davidson's computer crash because of that solitaire again?" Paul guessed.

"Um... no. No, this isn't about Mr. Davidson's computer." Melissa chuckled nervously.

"Uh oh... Paul's getting called to the principal's office!" Ted taunted teasingly.

"Shut up, Ted!" Bill groaned. "I'm trying to finish my report! Can I not have peace for five minutes?"

"You can... if you move to another department." Ted smirked. Paul only knew he was smirking because Ted had popped his head over the cubicle to watch him go by.

"I'm not in any trouble." Paul rolled his eyes. "Go back to what you were doing."

"Alright, alright!" Ted snickered, raising his hands defensively and lowering back into the cubicle.

"Sorry about him." Paul sighed, seeing the way Melissa blushed. "I swear he's not as much of an asshole as he seems most of the time."

"Oh, it's fine." Melissa shrugged. She walked into Davidson's office. Suddenly, her demeanor completely switched. "Ken, I'm going to need this office for a minute."

"What?" Paul blinked, his heart immediately sinking to his stomach. There was a pit in his stomach, and it was growing by the minute.

"Sure thing, Mel." Mr. Davidson nodded, getting up and walking out of the office.

"What's going on?" Paul asked, though there was no one specifically he was speaking to. He was just very confused.

"Why don't we sit?" Melissa offered, confidence oozing off of her as she took Davidson's seat behind the desk.

"Um... okay." Paul nodded warily, taking a seat. "Melissa..."

"Let me do the talking for now, Paul." Melissa sighed, leaning forward on the desk.

"Alright." Paul blushed, already intimidated. Yeah, he was totally agent material.

"You probably think you've been pretty slick, don't you?" Melissa chuckled lowly, looking at the cowering bundle of nerves before her. "Slipping bugs all over the facilities, sending your little reports while you're supposed to be writing reports for us... quite the secret agent, aren't you?"

"I... don't know what you're talking about." Paul lied.

"Paul, you're not that bright." Melissa scoffed. "In all your stealth and espionage, you seem to have forgotten that we have security cameras."

"On those floors?" Paul blinked. "I... didn't see any feed from them when I checked."

"Well we're not going to stream it to where anyone can see it!" Melissa rolled her eyes. "And you know exactly why."

"Yeah... yeah, I probably shouldn't have just assumed..." Paul sighed.

"So you admit it then? You're a spy?" Melissa checked.

"Well... yeah. Yeah I am." Paul sighed.

"For PEIP?" Melissa clarified.

"Who?" Paul tried to lie again.

"Paul, you used our network to send your files." Melissa rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but I followed their..." Paul muttered.

"Which we're well aware of here, and well aware of how to overrule." Melissa sighed. "Really, Paul... you're sloppy."

"I'm not trained." Paul blushed.

"I figured as much." Melissa scoffed. "So they pulled you over to the dark side?"

"They saved my life during the apotheosis..." Paul shrugged. "When they told me something might be up here, I knew I had to help. And they were right, Melissa. Stuff is going on here."

"I know." Melissa smirked. "I oversee it all."

"You?" Paul raised his brows, a bit taken aback.

"Me." Melissa smirked. "You're probably thinking it's a bit weird... me, being in charge, choosing to take on the role of a secretary."

"I'm honestly just trying to wrap my head around you being in charge in general." Paul muttered.

"You want to know why?" Melissa asked. It was, of course, rhetorical. "It's actually pretty simple. The CCRP Technical department had some good cloning candidates. I wanted to be close to the action. Hand-pick who we used. And who would ever suspect anything of the shy, sweet secretary? You certainly didn't."

"So you hand-picked me?" Paul blinked in shock. He was doing a lot of that.

"You're a good size, amiable personality... smart enough, though evidently no genius." Melissa reasoned. "You, in mass, would make a great crew of workers for the Moon Project."

"Moon Project?" Paul asked.

"Oh, you've barely scratched the surface on what we're doing here, Paul." Melissa chuckled darkly. "But you won't be getting any further."

"What are you going to do to me?" Paul shrugged, a faux confidence in his tone. "There are people out there who know me. If I just go missing, they're going to get suspicious."

"Oh... Paul, you think I would tell you?" Melissa started to laugh. "You're so sweet! No. No, we won't be doing anything to you right now. But... let's just say PEIP won't be getting any reports from you in the near future."

"You brought me here just to tell me that?" Paul asked apprehensively. "To gloat?"

"Just to let you know that we knew, yes." Melissa sighed, she pulled out a cellphone, diverting most of her attention to it. "I like to deal with things myself. Handle things face-to-face."

"What are you doing?" Paul asked, a pit growing in his stomach as he watched the way she tapped at the screen.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." Melissa mumbled. "Go home, Paul. Take the rest of the night off. Go to your girlfriend's coffee shop. Bring her the flowers. Happy three months, by the way."

"I want to know what you're doing." Paul stated firmly. Melissa looked up at him before starting to laugh.

"Well isn't that just too fucking bad!" Melissa snickered. "Go. Before I call Ken back in and make you go."

"Okay..." Paul relented, getting up. He looked her dead in the eyes. "If PEIP is concerned about the work here, so am I. This isn't over."

"Yes it is, Paul." Melissa sighed. "Have a nice life."

"Life?" Paul blinked, freezing in the doorway.

"Sorry, did I say life?" Melissa chuckled. "I meant night."

"Right..." Paul bit his lip, admittedly uneasy. He tried to walk silently back to his cubicle... but with Ted Spankoffski around, there was no way he was getting out of this unscathed.

"So, did you get fired?" Ted popped up.

"Nope. Everything is fine. Davidson just needed a bit of help with his computer." Paul lied.

"Shit, he told me I'd be able to fix it next time!" Ted grumbled. "Is he giving you a bonus for it?"

"Nope. It was just a favour." Paul sighed.

"Damn... you fucking pushover." Ted snickered.

"Yeah, I get it, I let people walk all over me." Paul rolled his eyes. He picked up the bouquet of flowers from his cubicle, continuing to walk for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Ted furrowed his brows.

"As a thank you, he's letting me off early. So I can surprise Emma." Paul smirked. "We've been dating for three months to the day."

"Yeah you have... give her butt an extra squeeze for me, horndog." Ted teased. Paul blushed.

"Fuck you!" He called back, making his way out the door.

Paul felt something off the minute he stepped outside the CCRP building. Something deep in his bones. He physically shuddered under the weight of it, but... what could he do but keep walking. Yeah... yeah, it was probably just him feeling uneasy after the conversation he'd just had, right? Right... he was okay. Everything was okay. They were probably just gonna put a block on his communications with PEIP. No biggie. He'd survive it. He'd figure out another way to spy, and to get his findings to Xander. Everything was going to be just fine. He was going to be just fine.

He rounded a corner, walking across the street to Beanies. Just as he was about to reach for the door handle he felt a hand cover his mouth and another wrap around his waist, pulling him back. He tried shouting and screaming, but it was muffled. He resisted as much as he possibly could, but this person was stronger than him. Finally, they stopped in an alley, and the hand was removed from his mouth. Paul took a few deep breaths, setting the flowers down and raising his hands in surrender. At about the same time, he felt cool metal pressed to his temple. What a time to be mugged.

"I don't have anything on me to give to you. I used all my cash at lunch. All that's in my wallet is my driver's license." Paul stated levelly. "Believe me. You've got the wrong guy."

"No, Paul... I haven't." An almost identical voice sighed behind him. Paul blinked in confusion. He made a very, very stupid move and turned in the man's arms while his grip was a bit looser. He found himself staring dead in the eyes at... himself. His eyes widened. "You have everything I've ever wanted."

"You..." Paul breathed, before becoming suddenly very aware of the metal on his head. He took a sideways glance, seeing that it was a gun. He had thought it was, just... best to be sure. "Please. Please, you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. It's either this or the moon, and... I don't want to go to the moon." The other Paul told him, voice shaky. He moved his finger to the trigger, hesitating. "Thank you. For the memories. For giving me the life I'm about to live."

Bang! There was smoke, and then a thud. Paul- the original one- fell to the ground, limp and lifeless. The death was almost instant, just as Paul 23 had predicted that it would be. He'd let go at the right time... and he hadn't gotten any blood on himself. It really had been his day! His cell malfunctioned and opened for him. Then he found the gun just... hanging there on the rack. He was free and armed, and ready to carry out everything he had fantasized about since he was made! It was like the stars had aligned for him! And as a cherry on top... Paul had even brought flowers. If the memories planted in his head were any indication, it was his and Emma's three-month-iversary. These would be absolutely perfect!

He stepped over his lifeless counterpart, rushing to get to the flowers before the puddle of blood forming by Paul's head got to them. he picked up the flowers tenderly, grinning. He took a look one final time at the original Paul, the the flowers. He set the flowers down, picking up Paul and propping him on a dumpster. He pulled out a small chip, slipping it in the appropriate place under his tongue. The finishing touch to his plan. Now... they would think this Paul was him. That he'd managed to erase his tattoo. He tossed the Paul in a CCRP marked dumpster, sighing.

He picked the flowers back up, walking out of the alley. God, this was great! He was about to finally step into the life that was rightly his. His brothers, the other clones, would kill to be him. But of course he wasn't actually going to let them kill him. No, unlike the real Paul, he knew to always be on the lookout. He knew he would never be safe. But for now... was it ever going to be worth it. He walked up to the door at Beanies, walking in. He saw Emma at the counter, and... he couldn't hide his excitement. He beamed, grinning widely. Like a small child. He walked up to her, holding the flowers out for the love of his life.

"Hey, Emma... Happy Three Months!"

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Aye you sick of me yet? Lol. How about the boys going to the boardwalk one night to find a traveling circus/freak show is in town. I’m talkin sword swallowing and fire breathing type ish. Our lovely lady s/o is an acrobat who performs with an aerial hoop (if you need reference, my personal fav performance is Chloe Gardiol doing cry me a river). And is she actually human? Who knows? Is she alluring as bait? Maybe.

Not at all!! Sorry it took so long to get to this!! I totally love this ask, and I’m definitely turning this into a fic!! I’m also thinking Poly!Lost Boys for this one!! I hope you enjoy!!

Talk About Freak Show (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1865

The boys probably should’ve known a circus was coming into town, but it caught the four of them by surprise. They’d been to their fair share over the years, but it was still a pleasant sight. It was something different. Something to keep them entertained besides the normal crowds that walked up and down the boardwalks. There were clowns, jugglers, and even fire breathers littering the boardwalk and impressing the locals. 

“Gnarly!” Paul shouted as he watched someone swallow a sword. Marko and Paul were pushing eachother, and Dwayne had to grab both of them by the back of their coats before one of them decided to give it a try. David rolled his eyes and threatened,

“If the two of you don’t shut up, I’ll shove a sword somewhere else.” He said, and Paul wiggled his fingers at him and said,

“Ooh.” In a mocking tone, while Marko laughed and encouraged him to lighten up. It was a circus! They were supposed to be having a good time! And they were. David just didn’t like how many of the carnies kept coming up to them. Especially when a mime decided to make fun of David for wearing a “long face”. Marko and Paul had nearly lost their minds laughing when the mime copied David, and David had considered strangling the poor guy right then and there. He mimicked him smoking a cigarette, and, after only being around him for a minute, he was actually doing a pretty good impression. This only made him more angry. Luckily, something else had caught their attention.

There was a big top set up in the sand, and the four of them left their bikes near the back to check it out. A performance was just about to start, and they weren’t strangers to sneaking into places like this. They took some empty seats, and ducked in the crowd so no one would see them. Dwayne had to tell Paul to shut up, as he was sure the blondes giggling would give it away that they weren’t supposed to be there. 

They watched a ring leader announce the name of the next performer, and the boys watched in wonder as you stepped out and a hoop was slowly dropped down from above. You wore a red and white shimmery leotard, one that exposed your legs, arms, and clung to your body. You had a rose in her hair, and they couldn’t tell how long it was by how it was tied back. Still, you were beautiful. Paul let out a wolf whistle, and Marko laughed and punched him in the shoulder.

They stayed for your entire performance, even though they’d only meant to stay for a few minutes. You were entrancing. They’d seen others perform aerial arts before, but there was just something about you that they couldn’t deny was different. The way that you hung in the air, moved your body, and seemed to have complete control over the audience, even them, was unmistakably mesmerizing. Marko even leaned over to whisper to David, asking if he thought that you were human. David didn’t say a word for a moment. His eyes watched you, and he whispered,

“I’m not sure.” It was a weird thing to admit, but it was the truth. There were too many heartbeats, too many scents. He couldn’t place which one was yours. Their voices were barely a whisper, and he was sure no one would’ve been able to hear him over the music. Marko then added,

“She’d make good bait.” And David turned to look at his angel faced brother. Marko was grinning, a grin that David had become far too familiar with over the years. It was like he had read his mind. He gave him a small smirk, and a silent nod. That you would.

When you finished your performance, Paul stood up to give you a standing ovation. He was quickly yanked down by the brunette, but he still hooted and hollered for you. They caught your laugh, but you were quickly bowing and retreating back behind the curtain. Marko whispered the beginning of their plan to the other two, and Paul was practically bouncing with excitement. They left the big top, sneaking out where they came, and going to grab their bikes. They were going to find you, get you away from the crowds, maybe have some fun and-

They paused when they saw a small crowd near their bikes. Apparently, they’d parked them right where the carnies took their breaks. The mime from before was smoking a cigarette, and they could hear what he was saying over the dull roar of the crowd.

“-Totally hot, but the one with the mullet was kind of a dick. I hate stopping in these shitty towns. God, why couldn’t- Shit! That’s them.” He noticed them just when they were only a few feet away. He was talking to you, exactly who’d they’d been looking for, and you turned to follow his eyes. You were wearing a light brown fur overcoat, one that went down to your mid-thigh, and it was obviously to keep the nights chill off of your shoulders. Your hair hung loosely over your shoulders, and it wasn’t until you turned that they realized it was you, the acrobat, from before. They could see the sparkly red and white leotard under your coat, and now they knew why you were wearing something so heavy. You furrowed your brows when they continued to walk closer.

“Can I help you boys?” You asked. This was circus territory. Hot or not, tourists and locals weren’t allowed to be back here. The platinum blonde, the one your friend had called a dick, smiled at you. He had ocean blue eyes, one’s sharp enough to pierce. He was dressed in all black, with an overcoat and gloves. You stared right back, and a shiver threatened to go down your spine. He was attractive, but your survival instinct from being on the road for so long practically screamed that he was dangerous. He gave you the creeps. He motioned to the bikes right besides you and your friends.

“We were just about to ask you the same thing.” He said. His voice was smooth like velvet, and you almost felt a wave of something. You couldn’t describe it except for suggestion, maybe? It washed over you like a wave, and it took all of your hesitance with it. “I’m David.” He said as he plucked a cigarette from behind his ear, and you found yourself giving up your name without thinking about it. Not your stage name. Your real one. Your friend, the mime, gave you a startled look. It was an unspoken rule not to share your real name. It broke the illusion. The barrier between actor and audience.

You’d been standing right in front of one of the middle bikes, a bike with a yellow back wheel and a raccoons tail hanging from one of the handles. The presumed owner, a curly-haired blonde with big, doe brown eyes slid by you into the space between the bike right next to his. He made sure to brush by you as you past, holding you steady so he didn’t knock you over. He didn’t excuse himself, and he grinned when you had to grip onto his jacket. He leaned in and whispered, “I’m Marko.” With a wide grin on his face. He climbed onto the bike, and revved the engine to life. 

Then, the tallest of the blondes, swaggered his way over to you. He was at the end of the line and he didn’t have to walk nearly as close, but he did anyways. He brushed a hand over the fur of your coat, lifting his brows as he said, “Nice coat. I’m Paul.” With a slight californian accent. He looked more like a glam-rocker than a surfer, but you could smell the weed on him as he walked backwards for a few steps. He had a row of almost too perfect teeth, and a smile that was charming and lazy. And then he was taking a seat on a bike with a red back wheel.

The brunette didn’t try to come close. His bike was the other middle one, the one to your left, but he commanded your attention anyways. His eyes were dark and his skin was tanned. You didn’t let yourself embarrass yourself by looking down at his chest, and he gave you the smallest of smirks. He nodded his head at you and said, “Dwayne.” As he went to his bike. Your friend had been talking about him, and while you admitted that he was definitely hot, you wished he’d warned you that they all were. Though, you felt hairs stand on the back of your neck. Three of them were behind you, and, for some reason, you didn’t like that. But turning your back to David seemed far worse. David hadn’t made his way to his bike in the seconds that had just past, and instead asked,

“You got a light?” And you were snapped back to reality. You reached inside your coat, producing a lighter. David leaned down, the cigarette already between his teeth, and cupped your hand as you helped him light his cigarette. The leather was smooth against your skin, and you tried to pretend that your hand wasn’t shaking. He looked at you as he did, his eyes staring into yours. It made you gulp, and he smirked. He pulled back, took a drag, and blew the smoke away from you. He glanced at your friend, before he walked to his bike. It was the first one in line, and you turned to follow him with your eyes. You faced them, and David said, “Was that your last performance of the night?” 

It barely registered as a question, but you shook your head. Not as an answer, but more so to clear it. The boys snickered, and Paul and Marko smiled at eachother. As if they knew something you didn’t. You were quick to say,

“No, no. That, um- I have another one later tonight.” You’d never been nervous around people before. But these boys? They made you feel like they were about to eat you alive. David took another drag, and he almost looked a little disappointed. It had to be your imagination though. Your friend tugged you to the side, out from in front of their bikes, and you let him. David watched, and he narrowed his eyes at the mime. He took another drag.

“You should find us later tonight.” David said, and the same feeling washed over you. The push. The suggestion. Before you could answer, he was flicking his unfinished cigarette to the side, and Paul was tearing through the sand. They followed one by one, but David was quick to take the lead. With them gone, it felt like a cloud had been lifted from your head. But there was one thing that remained. You would find them later that night. Somehow.

Your friend scoffed and shook his head. He had already lit another cigarette and said,

“Talk about freak show.”

[twilightsagasworld]

Male (kraken) reader x Leah Clearwater

requested by @rexburn12

It was a stormy, black, and dreary night in Forks. No one was driving around town and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Forks wasn’t a place where storms weren’t common, they happened often, but there was something peculiar about this exact one that made the Cullen clan uneasy, something supernatural was behind this and it was something big. And the Cullen’s weren’t the only ones on edge, on the reservation the Quileute wolves shared fretted whispers and murmurs, no one could explain what was going on or what the cause behind this unease was, but everyone concurred that the supernatural was involved, in some way, shape or form.

“Well if it’s something supernatural, let’s kick it’s ass!”, “No, Emmett, not until we have an idea of what this is, we still don’t know where it is, that should be our main concern for now, it’s location” Carlisle explained, they were all gathered in his study, trying to come up with a plan and an explanation. Edward leaned against a shelf, “So what? We wait?”, Carlisle gave him a look, “There’s nothing else we can do, I’ve never seen this type of phenomenon”, the family shared a few concerned looks. The tension thickened when Bella’s phone rang, she answered, “Jake, what is it?”, the room was silent as Bella and Jacob exchanged words, but the call ended quick, Bella bit her lip, Carlisle frowned, “What is it Bella?”, Bella shook her head slightly, “Jake…they all think it’s coming from La Push”, “La Push is the nearest beach from here, the wolves think it’s there?” Edward asked, Bella nodded, “Jake said they’ve been getting a weird scent near the water when they got there”, “The wolves are at the beach now?”, “Yes”, Carlisle nodded, “Alright, hopefully they won’t be too mad, but we need to go there, it could be dangerous for them to encounter something without help” Carlisle spoke, the family nodded, “We need to hurry then” and with that, they left.

Leah was the second to arrive after Jacob at the beach, the storm was still going strong and rain was pouring hard. It didn’t take long for the rest of the shifters to arrive along with the Cullen’s. Leah sneered at them, their smell repulsed her and she could’ve gagged if they weren’t in a serious situation.

“Jacob, we hope you don’t mind, but we had to come, given the occasion” Carlisle shook Jacob’s hand, “Trust me, I’m almost glad you’re here, we don’t know what’s going on but we picked up a scent not too long ago, we don’t know what it is but we don’t like it”, Carlisle nodded, “Alright, we need a plan then”, Paul scoffed, “You don’t have a plan? Great”, Sam shut him up with a glare, but Carlisle didn’t seem to mind, “We’re as in the dark as you are, trust me”, Jacob sighed and clenched his jaw, “So what do we?” his tone was hard, but tense, Carlisle glanced at the water, “Our best bet is to go in, see what we can find and take it from there”, Jacob looked at him like he was crazy, “You’re not serious!” he fisted his hands into his hair, Seth stood beside his sister, “Leah, you think Jake is okay?”, Leah pinched the bridge of her nose, before giving her brother a look of disbelief, “What do you think Seth”, Seth shrugged, before mumbling a ‘sorry’, Leah shook her head, “Whatever bu- Leeches!”, Leah’s yell turned everyone’s attention to her, she pointed to the treeline, “Yeah, we smell them too, get rid of them!” Jacob ordered. The packs shifted and assumed a defensive stance while the Cullen’s did the same, in a matter of seconds a group of newborn’s ran at them, but just as they were about to clash something shot out of the water and slammed into the newborn’s, killing them. The force of the collision shook the ground beneath everyone’s feet as they stared in awe at what they saw.

There was a giant tentacle dragging the bodies into the water, and as they disappeared something else started emerging from the water’s surface. “I don’t believe it…” Carlisle’s voice was shaky, “What is it Carlisle?!” Emmett’s yelled, Carlisle turned to look at his son, “That’s the Kraken”, his words etched themselves into everyone’s minds as the beast finally appeared from the surface, a few snarls came from the wolves as they growled at the large figure, Carlisle shot the pack a warning look, “Don’t attack it!”, Sam let out a bark to order his pack back and Jacob followed suite, everyone’s attention was now on the Kraken. The beast let out a dangerous and low drawl, the sound blending in with the thunder above it, and then it spoke,

“Go away…or die” it’s voice was deep and scratchy, sending waves of fear and shock into the Cullen’s and the wolves. Carlisle spoke up, “Please, we don’t want any trouble, but you’ve seemed to cause a disturbance in the weather which drew our attention, I hope to come to an agreement, if you’re willing to listen!”, the Kraken let out a rumble, stretching it out and making it sound like it was contemplating something. It spoke again, “…I will listen…”, before Carlisle could say more the beast descended into the waves, the storm seemed to calm too, there wasn’t such heavy rain as before, instead it was a drizzle, and the thunder and strong winds died down to nothing but a breeze. Some of the wolves whined when nothing seemed to happen after a minute, everyone was being cautious.

The waves collapsed against the shore and a figure appeared from the aftermath. It was a man, young, but husky and tall, everything about him cried danger. But to Leah, her world seemed to stop, all of a sudden it didn’t feel like gravity was keeping her down, it was him. The man stopped a few feet away from both groups, his gaze locked with Leah’s, and he frowned, he felt peculiar, uneasy, fluttering in his body, and he didn’t know how to handle it, he determined the cause to be her, and so he marched towards the white wolf, ignoring the growls and tension that grew around him. He stopped two feet from her and held out his hand, and to everyone’s, and maybe even Leah’s own, surprise, she nuzzled it. The man’s face was unreadable and Carlisle kept a wary eye on him.

The man said nothing and turned away from the wolf and made way to Carlisle. Carlisle kept his face straight and his jaw tensed as the man stopped in front of him, “Greetings…”, the man sneered, and then scoffed, “(Y/n), but the humans call me the Kraken”, his voice was deep, smooth yet had an edge of a roughness to it, his voice fit his character perfectly Leah noted. Carlisle nodded, “I didn’t think the legends were true, seems I’ve been proven otherwise”, (y/n) crossed his arms, “Indeed, now what is it you want? You clearly are not human, I hear no heartbeat, nor the rushing of blood through veins”, Carlisle smiled, “Indeed we are not humans” he gestured towards his family, “We’re vampires, and those wolves are the protectors of the humans here, they are shapeshifters, able to morph from human to their current form. Now, what we need is some form of a treaty, we don’t need the humans to come looking for something that might kill them”, (Y/n) sighed, “Should I care? Because I don’t, the humans are of no concern to me”, Carlisle crossed his arms, “Well, I’m sure you don’t want them to try and seek you out? The humans do not understand the supernatural, they won’t leave you alone until they manage to get a piece of you to study and possibly experiment on, you won’t have peace”, a frown sketched itself onto (y/n)’s face, he stayed quiet for a moment before speaking, “I see…Well then, I shall remain hidden from the humans by staying in this form until I feel like changing back of course, I don’t need them meddling in my waters”, Carlisle nodded, “Good, and we’ll stay out of your way as well, you’ll need to form an agreement with the Quileute pack yourself, we stay out of each other’s ways, we formed a treaty long ago not to cross into their land you see, but I must thank you, I wasn’t expecting your co-operation” he held out his hand to shake, (y/n) looked at his hand, then to his face and back to his hand before shaking it. Without another word Carlisle gave Jacob a firm nod before disappearing with the other Cullen’s.

Leah watched closely as the man made his way over, Sam, in his wolf form, met him in the middle, letting out a growl. “I’ll stay off your land and you don’t bother me, deal?” the man smirked, Sam huffed in his face before giving a wolf form of a nod.

Everything after was a blur.

Leah found herself as the centre of teasing and comments about her imprinting. She hated the guys in Sam’s pack for not laying off her, many of them had yet to imprint and those who did seemed to only tease her the worst for it. It gave her headaches and she spent nearly all her time in her wolf form and away from the reservation. Her mind was centred around the man? Beast? Whatever it is. She didn’t want to confront him about it, because she was afraid he might kill her or not accept her at all. She wished the recent events were only dreams, but she couldn’t lie to herself, she had to accept it. She just didn’t know how she was going to talk to the man, and she wasn’t even sure she could have a future with him, he smelt like seaweed and the ocean, and she liked it.

Her mind being occupied distracted her from her surroundings, and she found herself wandering onto the beach of La Push, she wasn’t in her wolf form and the ocean breeze gently caressed her tan cheeks as she became aware of where she was. She was midway in turning back when she heard his voice, “You’re the white wolf who bonded to me” , he was sitting off to the side near a pile of drift wood, Leah cursed herself, nodding she answered, “Yes”, the man nodded, he was staring intently and curiously at her, “Come sit beside me, let us find out more about each other then, you intrigue me”, Leah’s feet moved on their own accord and soon she was sat beside him telling him things about herself.

And this was how it went on for months, them sharing stories and adventures, learning about the others life and so on, it gave Leah a warm feeling she hadn’t felt since before Sam left her, she clung to it, she wasn’t about to let it go that easily. Not now that she finally imprinted. Now she could start living.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: WandaVision Was Elizabeth Olsen’s Exercise in Reclaiming Her—and Wanda’s—Power

On this week’s Little Gold Men, Olsen explains why she was “mortified” to share WandaVision with the world and teases her upcoming turn in Doctor Strange.

  VANITY FAIR: Despite her onscreen superhero status, Elizabeth Olsen admits to Vanity Fair’s Joanna Robinson that she gets “panic dreams” before beginning a new project. That was never more so the case than with WandaVision, the genre-bending Disney+ series that imagined Wanda Maximoff and Vision’s (Paul Bettany) married adventures through a sitcom-style lens. But after the show premiered to rave reviews and an eager fanbase, Olsen’s nerves about launching the Marvel TV empire could melt away, right?

That is, until she suited up as the Scarlet Witch once more for Sam Raimi’s upcoming sequel, Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness. Although writer Michael Waldron has compared the titular character to Indiana Jones, Olsen insists that the final product is edgier than that figure’s action epics. “I think it’s more than a glossy Indiana Jones movie, which I love Indiana Jones,” Olsen says on the latest Little Gold Men episode, adding, “But I feel like it has a darker thing going on.”

This week’s Little Gold Men podcast is a Disney+ double feature, featuring an interview with Sebastian Stan of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (also courtesy of Joanna). She joins Vanity Fair’s executive Hollywood editor, Jeff Giles, Richard Lawson, and Katey Rich in a conversation about Witness, which gave Harrison Ford his only Oscar nomination to date. Other top of mind topics include the lackluster box office performance of In the Heights, Emmy buzz for Bo Burnham’s Netflix special Inside, and Pixar’s newest release Luca, which arrives on Disney+ Friday.

This is a partial transcript:

You’ve talked about Wanda coming into her own power, discovering her power. Something that I think is so interesting is you were doing work as an executive producer on Sorry For Your Loss. And I was wondering what that experience taught you about your power, your ability to have input over your acting choices or your acting roles going forward?

It was incredible. It was truly one of the greatest learning experiences I could have had. I saw how everything can be done if I ever wanted to direct something, which I’m not sure yet. But I have seen how maybe the healthiest way to crew up a show is, to a writers room, to the whole journey in between and editing and color correction and sound mixing. All the things that I had wanted to experience, I got to do that on that show. And it created this neverending voice in my head that now just expresses all of her opinions when I’m on set. It’s great working with. Like, I’m starting to work with another director right now and it’s great just saying, when people sometimes would ask me, “How would you like to work?” I wouldn’t really know how to answer that because I’ve always been malleable to if other actors like working specific ways. I’m cool to kind of be fluid in that zone.

Now I can just say, “It’s really good for me to have all the information, just so I don’t have to ask questions in my head and think, why are they doing that instead of this?” But if I just have the information of “Oh, this is an issue, so we’re doing this instead” then I’m not going to try and make up what the issue is and spend weeks trying to figure out, “Why are we doing it this way?” S I know that that’s now something. I just like having information, even when I’m not a producer. It just helped. I’m sure other actors would be like, “How the fuck would you keep all that straight?” And it actually rests my brain. It rests my monkey brain, I think. to just have facts and information about how everything’s going, why schedules are changing. Yeah, I loved that experience.

I would say on every single ensemble job that I have done with Marvel, I try and take up the least space possible and let everyone else’s personalities fly. And that’s truly what I’m more comfortable with in that space. It’s kind of in the same way [that] it’s really nice to have one-on-one conversations, but if you put me in a theater with 50 people and having to address a TedTalk kind of thing, that’s my worst nightmare. So I just would rather be small and take up a little bit of space and do my part of the puzzle. I still think I’m going to be like that. And the other big ensemble ones, I didn’t feel that way with Dr. Strange because it wasn’t that kind of a thing. But yeah, between Age of Ultron and WandaVision it’s literally like someone who doesn’t want to peep up and who is so scared to do anything wrong, who just is going to defer to everyone else for information and just do it and just stay in my lane.

Now in WandaVision, it was like I wasn’t a producer on it but it felt like I wanted to be a leader. I wanted to take the opportunity to kind of set the tone of how we treated one another, how prepared we were, how collaborative we could be. And [director/producer] Matt Shakman was the ultimate, greatest leader. I think we didn’t come to work with our sides in our hands. We were giving notes to [creator] Jac [Schaeffer] at least a week before we…And obviously there are things that are always going to be coming up and changing but we didn’t want to do the whole thing where an actor has a brilliant idea at midnight and we have to kind of spend too much time that we do not have discussing that brilliant idea. Just look ahead and be prepared and then be really kind and treat everyone with respect. That just is how we worked and we had a joyful time doing it.

Wanda has always been a character embraced by the fandom, but what does it mean to you, given that you have this different approach this time, to see Wanda embraced by a much larger group of people and awards folks are knocking at your door and all this other stuff?

I feel really grateful. I was mortified when this show was coming out. I was having a lot of weird anxiety about it and felt pressure from the idea that Marvel hadn’t had something come out [like this] and it felt so different. And I was like, “They like the sitcom but they’re not going to like it when we get out of the sitcom.” I had strange, really strange experiences when I was working in England and it sounded like people were enjoying it and I just wasn’t believing it.

So it was really kind of when I wrapped Dr. Strange and came home and I now have this gratitude that I feel like Kathryn [Hahn] and Paul and Teyonah [Parris] had while we were doing press during it coming out. They had this nostalgia of the time we had. And I’m still playing the same frickin character, but like moved on. I just could not sit back and kind of have that gratitude. I do now. And it really feels good, even if nothing happens, to be continued to be a part of a conversation about people acknowledging work that was done. As much as I try not to have an attachment to it, it is a sense of gratitude and you just feel lucky.

Go here to listen to the podcast. Elizabeth is near the end after Sebastian Stan.

Press: WandaVision Was Elizabeth Olsen’s Exercise in Reclaiming Her—and Wanda’s—Power was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[one-boring-person]

Omg I just reread the hunter fic you wrote for me and I'm still screaming - I so fucking love it!!!! You're totally awesome babe! So, I was wondering - only if it isn't to much - if you would be willing to write a part two?💕

Of course! I hope you like this as much as the first!💛💛💛 thank you for requesting! ❤❤ (I'm so sorry this is so late!)

Goddamn Hunters. (Part Two.)

David (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: blood imagery, graphic violence

Masterlist.

Part One.

The journey back to David's home is mostly silent, the only sound being a brief squeak from me when I realise that we are no longer on the ground, my hands clutching tighter at the comfortable fabric of his overcoat, my face burying into his chest, inhaling his somehow familiar scent. In my ears, the rushing wind is unbelievably loud, though the sensation of it against any exposed skin is not as biting as I thought it would be, possibly due to the frigidity of my body beneath my torn clothes. I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to look at the ground far below us as he continues to move, his arms adjusting themselves securely around my trembling frame, the sensation making me feel safer, despite me not knowing this...person at all.

After what feels like hours, he touches down again, a roaring, crashing sound making itself known to me, as well as a pungent salty reek laced with a woody odour, all of which mix with the confusion already fogging up the inside of my head, my fatigue finally becoming noticeable to me. Yawning, I instinctively cuddle closer to David, my body reacting before my brain does, a deep blush rising to my cheeks as he looks down at me, blue eyes widening a little with surprise before they fill with some other emotion, something akin to pride. I don't quite register as he carries me somewhere dimly lit, whining quietly when he finally places me down somewhere, the noise a reflex I didn't know I had, though I am glad that the surface below me is soft and comfortable. Halting, the platinum blonde seems to think something through, eyeing my limp, tired form on what I can only assume is a bed, his hand absentmindedly reaching up to stroke back my hair, frowning a bit at my bloodied state. He jerks away suddenly when a voice speaks up from behind him, the words incoherent to me as I drift to sleep, aching and painful after my ordeal, only just catching the end of what David responds with.

"...mate."

For the first time in days, I sleep peacefully, none of the harrowing nightmares I've had previously assaulting my conscience, though the biting hunger at the back of my throat remains a constant, the blood on my clothes not helping at all. Thankully, the day passes quickly, my eyes opening just as the last rays of sunlight leave the surroundings, the bed I'm sleeping in blocked off from the outside light by black-out curtains, which is helpful, seeing as I learnt the hard way that the bright light hurts like hell. Hesitantly, I climb off the bed/nest thing and examine the room I'm in, surprised to find myself in a cave of sorts, the spacious expanse littered with debris and random objects, a few of them gathered around a decrepit fountain in the centre, near which there are sofas and a wheelchair, a faint layer of dust collecting on almost every surface. Confused, I step further into the room, moving to the fountain, where I trail a finger over the filthy surface, a greyish film coating the digit as I pull it away, my nose somehow picking up the musky scent emanating from it with ease. In addition to this, I can also smell four distinct odours, one of which I already recognise: David, the unmistakable smell inciting an odd longing feeling within me, my body aching to be with my mysterious saviour again.

In my confusion, I fail to notice that a tall figure has appeared in the hallway behind me, their eyes glowing yellow as they catch sight of me, a low growl escaping them, before I'm pinned to the fountain by them, strong hands holding me to the marble surface in a painful position. I yelp, struggling in their hold, my own strength dwindling due to my hunger, terror and panic flooding me as I fight to get free, only for my assailant to hold me tighter still, snapping their teeth by my ear in warning. Whimpering, I still, hoping that whatever they do to me, it will be quick.

"Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing here? Couldn't you tell this is our territory?" The voice is distinctly male, though the hostility sounds wrong in it, as if he normally uses a lighter tone to address people.

"T-territory? What do you mean?" I manage to get out, just as puzzled as I am afraid, wincing when he presses me tighter against the fountain.

"You know exactly what I mean. We've marked this area and laid claim to it more times than I can count, so you can't seriously tell me you don't know what I mean. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" He punctuates each word clearly, his breath fanning over my ear as he forces me into even more discomfort, my mind scrambling to piece together what in the hell is going on. My mouth opens and closes as I try to figure out what to say, only to snap shut when I hear a thankfully familiar voice somewhere behind us.

"Get the hell away from her, Paul." David snarls, rich voice laced with anger, the platinum blonde audibly stepping over to where I'm pinned to the water feature. The weight on my back is suddenly gone, my body screaming in relief from the painful position as I twist in time to see a lanky blonde being thrown to the floor by the black-clad platinum blonde who saved my life last night, a gasp escaping me as the former crashes into a rickety old table, the ancient structure cracking in two under the force.

"What's your problem, man?" The blonde, Paul, bites out at David as he climbs to his feet, pulling a few splinters of wood out of his jacket and mop of hair, eyes stool flashing yellow.

"You! You're my problem, waltzing in here and attacking my mate as if you own the place..." His voice trails off, eyes fading into their icy blue again almost as if he's realised what he just said.

Silence encompasses the three of us, shock evident on Paul's face, regret lining David's and confusion probably showing on mine, the quiet quickly becoming awkward as the taller blonde tries to process what he's heard, only disrupted when another two people emerge from the tunnel behind David. One of them, a slightly shorter blonde with curly hair, is pulling on a patchwork jacket, angelic features bright with mirth, whilst the other is a tall dark haired guy with no shirt on, his own leather jacket slung over one broad shoulder, nearly black eyes swiftly finding me.

"Ooh, who's this?" The shorter blonde queries when he sees me, doe eyes raking up and down my figure, though he quickly looks over at Paul when he makes a sound of disbelief.

"Your mate? Since when do you believe in that crap?" Paul exclaims loudly, his words stirring yet more confusion into the soup that has become my mind, my eyes flicking uneasily between the four boys.

"Hold up, who's whose mate?" The short blonde questions, frowning at his friends, the dark haired one staring at me with a vague expression of realisation.

David sighs, coming over to me with a gentle look on his handsome features, helping me back up again and keeping one hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles into the skin as he looks at me worryingly, silently asking if I'm alright. I nod, somehow trusting him.

"This is (Y/n). My mate. We only met yesterday, when I found her being attacked by hunters." He informs the others, eyeing them sternly, "And I'd like it if you could all respect that. She needs help transitioning."

"Hang on, before you go on, what are you talking about? Hunters? Transitioning? Mate? What on earth does it all mean?" I butt in, finally speaking up over the others.

David and the dark haired one exchange glances briefly, before the latter ushers the other two outside and out of sight, leaving the platinum blonde and I alone together. Carefully, he eases me onto the edge of the fountain, sitting beside me without making eye contact.

"How long have you been like this?" He finally asks, looking over at me.

"Like...this? You mean messed up, hungry, hysterical, nocturnal and not to mention chased around Santa Carla by two people I thought were my friends? For four days now." I respond, drawing attention to the gnawing hunger in the back of my throat again.

"Four days? How long have you been in Santa Carla?" He sounds confused now, as if he wasn't expecting me to say that.

"For three. I don't know why, I sort of just...needed to come here. It's like i felt this connection between me and what i have now figured out is you...sorry, this is too much information, and I probably sound weird as hell..." I admit to him, fiddling with the hem of my tattered shirt.

"No, that makes sense, it's a mate thing, I guess." He murmurs quietly.

"Can you just tell me what that means please?" I ask again, sighing in exasperation.

"This is probably going to sound pretty crazy, but you, as well as me and the others, are a vampire, and somehow, that has also made the mate bond between us stronger. Mate bond as in some weird, primal urge to be together."

"Wait, what?"

It takes David a full hour to properly explain everything to me, by which point I'm absolutely starving, my fangs itching to make themselves known, as well as slightly disturbed by the knowledge of what I really am, even if it does explain a lot about the events of the past four nights. David seems to notice my discomfort, as he suddenly stands up, offering me a hand with a small smirk on his face.

"Come on, let's get you some food."

"Food? Like blood?" I inquire, gingerly placing my shaking hand in his gloved one, allowing him to pull me up.

"Exactly like blood." He smirks, leading me to the entrance of the cave, where we go put and climb up a rickety old walkway to the top of a cliff. Once at the peak, we stand at the edge, looking out over the roaring sea, the noise of which is still unbearably loud to my ears.

"So we can either take my motorcycle, or we can take the more interesting route." The vampire offers, blue eyes boring into me.

"More interesting route?" I question, lifting an eyebrow.

He doesn't respond, instead just smirking wider, going to the edge of the cliff. With a suggestive wink, he steps backwards, off the edge, disappearing below the cliff line. Gasping, I go to step forwards, as if to stop him, only to freeze in place when he floats back into view, coat swirling around him as the wind rushes past his narrow body.

"What the...how are you doing that?!"

Incredulous, I rush to the edge, looking over it as if to check if he's standing on something, only to look back up at him when I don't see anything.

"Practice. Come on, you can float, too." He grins, coming closer. I smirk at the IT reference, edging forwards, taking his outstretched hands, only to feel confused when he bats them away, his arms wrapping around my waist securely. As he does so, I suddenly feel the ground melt away from under my feet, a squeak of fear escaping me before I look up into his pale face, laughing as a sudden rush of exhilaration course through me, my own hands coming up to rest against the hard planes of his chest. He grins at me happily, slowly releasing his grip on me, whooping out loud when I manage to float on my own, only to grab hold of me again when I waver unsteadily, tipping towards the ground.

"Come on, let's get you some blood." He promises, twisting around and gesturing for me to hold onto his back, before swiftly flying off in the direction of Santa Carla, an exhilarated scream escaping me. In no time, we're circling around the dark alleys and back roads of the small coastal town, swiftly locating a group of three people, who look hopelessly lost.

"Just drop down on them, and let loose." Dvaid encourages me, going nearer to the group.

Taking this into account, I release his back and fall to the floor, dropping right on top of one of them, my instincts taking over as my fangs break past my lower lip, slicing into the soft skin even as I tear into the available skin of my first victim. Blood spurts up into my waiting mouth, a ravenous moan escaping me as I clasp the person closer to me, relishing in the terrified shrieks of their friends, easily drinking my first victim dry. Throwing them aside, I stalk over to the others, who are paralyzed in fear, grabbing one and sinking my teeth into their soft skin, enjoying the sensation of the delicious life force flowing from them to me. Too soon, they die in my arms, allowing me to easily drop them and move on, finishing off the last one in no time.

As I finish, David drops from the sky, eyeing me closely, as if expecting me to attack him, too. When I don't, he comes closer, grinning from ear to ear, lifting a hand up to my face to wipe a trickle of blood away from the corner of my mouth, bringing the digit to his lips, licking the red substance off of it, the action making me feel oddly hot around the collar, despite the fact that the hunger is still rife in my mind, body still yearning for more. Swiping my tongue over my chin, I try to force it down, feeling my features slowly morphing back into their natural state, the fangs protruding from my gums sinking back into normal sized teeth, a groan of both satisfaction and dissatisfaction leaving me at the thought of having to stop now.

"Don't worry, kitten, we'll get you some more-" David goes to reassure me, only to suddenly be cut off as something explodes by his head, a familiar cloud of mist encasing him. Surprised, the vampire growls in pain, hands lifting to his face, rubbing at his now-bloodied skin, eyes flashing yellow in the fog of white moisture, the agonized groans he emits distressing me.

"David?! David, are you ok?!" I move to go and help him, only to flinch back when the vampire pushes me away again, voice strangled.

"I-I'm fine...damn...hunters again...get out of here!" He commands, twisting away from me. Annoyingly, I feel conflicted, part of me wanting to stay and help him, the other wanting to obey his words. It's only when he snarls another "Go!" at me that I turn and leave the area, biting my lip as I run around the corner.

As I do so, I hear an unfamiliar, distinctly female, voice start speaking to David, the words unclear as I start remembering something one of the hunters from the night before said, when they first tried to stake me:

"Wait till the girls find out they missed this."

These must be the girls he was talking about; vengeful girlfriends out to kill their boyfriends' killers. Peeking back around the corner, I nearly gasp as I see David on his knees, a woman pushing him down with a foot on his back, another standing before him with a stake poised over his head. At the moment, they seem caught up in some sort of joint speech, which gives me some time to figure out how to help, an idea swiftly forming in my head.

Looking around, I spot a pipe running up the side of the building near me, which I go over to, testing its stability. Inhaling, I start using it to pull myself up, my new strength allowing me to easily scale the building, ignoring the worrying creaking sounds that it emits as I heave myself onto the roof. Catching my breath, I race over to where I have a view of the alley below, my eyes swiftly finding the three people below. Standing straighter, I relax my muscles and concentrate on feeling light, straining to get myself up into the air, hopelessness starting to flood me as I feel the roof below me remain where it is.

For a minute, nothing happens, my feet staying firmly in place, until I let out an annoyed sigh, at which point i suddenly feel weightless, the slates under my shoes falling away as I open my eyes and look down, smiling briefly as I notice I'm a good few feet off the surface. Determined, I tilt myself forward a little, moving so I'm in line with the prone figure of my so-called mate, lowering myself somehow until I'm just out of sight. David struggles again, hissing as the girl with her foot on his back pours a liquid down the back of his coat, briefly distracting her, giving me the opportunity I need. I drop down, grabbing the stake-wielding hunter around the waist and pulling her upwards, my fangs instantly finding their purchase around her throat, tearing out her oesophagus and trachea with a horrible ease, the blood filling my mouth deliciously as her strangled screams fade into nothing.

Pulling away, I look down to see the other hunter glancing around, a stake now held in one hand as she tries to figure out where I am, pulse audible from here. Grinning sadistically, I allow the body in my arms to fall to the floor below, thudding loudly against the pavement, blood making a paint-like splash on the otherwise unstained tarmac, the sound drawing the hunter's attention away from David, a low gasp of air escaping her, before it breaks off into a pained scream when David suddenly jumps up to tear her heart from her back. As the blood erupts out of the now-limp body, i slowly manage to lower myself to the floor, wiping my chin on my sleeve as he looks at me in shock and gratitude. Noticing this, I make eye contact with him, smiling proudly.

"Goddamn hunters." Is all I say, mimicking him from earlier.

All he does is chuckle thankfully, sweeping me up into his arms, pressing me against his chest. Smiling, I wrap my arms around him, glad to have finally found someone to help me through this.

[wizisbored]

What are some of your favorite lines you've written for your fics? (Also I'm sorry things aren't going well right now. Sending love 💜)

right its time to go diggin im using this as an excuse to reread everything because i cant think of any lines off the top of my head even though i know theres a shitton

premptively putting a cut here because this will probably end up long as shit and you know what fuck yea to that because fuck yea to being proud of what youve made

SO

hallelujah, first thing i posted:

If those bastards want to make her part of their shitty musical, then she’s going to make it difficult. Or at least inconvenient.

The hive is not inconvenienced in the slightest.’

- idk if this is as funny as i think it is but i find it funny

"Nobody dies with dignity, Emma. There's no honour in the thing, however you dress it up."

- wrote that to sound creepy and now i cant decide whether i actually think its true

But he’s holding her like she’s his salvation, as if it’s his life hanging in the balance.

- salvation is just a good word tbh

It’s hopeless, but she refuses to be killed by a game of fucking ‘got your nose’.

purgatory, intended to be a shitpost but now i unironically think of it as the best thing ive ever written

After a few years (or maybe seconds, it’s not clear) / it takes a moment (or maybe it doesn’t, who knows?) / An undocumentable amount of time passes. /  They might have slipped into an uneasy silence lasting millenia - or milliseconds - if it wasn’t for the jolly tune that suddenly fills the air. / for minutes or years or millenia or maybe even eons / After a brief, indescribably long nap / But the incomprehensible amount of time seems somehow shorter this time.

- 2 in one of fucking with the concept of time and hinting at an unreliable narrator, hell yea. its about the weird atmosphere, baybeeeee

“Does one day of trying the hardest we could outweigh years of not trying at all?” Emma wonders aloud. Paul squeezes her hand.

“I damn hope so.”

He doesn’t ask if she believes in Hell.

- even without context i like this line but in context it really helped set the sombre tone so i could do a full 180 at the end of the chapter

Emma wonders whether they’ve been sent to musical hell for failing to stop the musical apocalypse

- love the implication that there is a hell dedicated to annoying people via musical theatre

“You said- you told her you’d never be in a musical?”

“Yes.”

“And then you died performing a musical number?”

“I- yeah, I did.”

“Brilliant! Now, that is stupid!”

- probably my best characterisation of death, sounds like something that would be said in a stupid deaths bit, i can hear it in his voice

teachers pet

“It’s only blatant if people know about it. So in actual fact this is secret favouritism.”

- hidgens gives absolutely 0 shits about the ethics of the situation good for him

“And if that is kidnapping, well, consider yourself kidnapped.”

- once again ethics simply do not matter

“Oh, where is your sense of adventure? Are you not curious about the results of washing baked beans?”

- this line hants me when im trying to make stew or just have some fucking beans on toast because I am curious about the results of washing baked beans

“Well, if it isn’t, and we both die, then I’ll be quite disappointed. We did spend all evening on this, after all.”

- priorities

finishing what we started, actually originally a scrapped ending idea for igtlt that i liked too much to abandon entirely

“How many bullets?” He eventually asks.

“Enough.”

- they just know what theyve got to do

Only thing left to say is a big ol’ fuck you to… God, everyone else in the fucking world. Oh, and God. Fuck you God, you prick.

- gotta love them tto refs

wildfire, almost 20,000 words of angst that im going to read through because fuck it why not

She doesn't understand the order, at least not yet; a dog doesn't understand the first time she's called to heel. But that can change. Though, from the bared teeth of this dog, the trader guesses it may take a while.

- this is actually something i really like doing in narration, calling a character something in dialogue or comparison and then directly calling them it in the narration

He understands; she doesn't want to show weakness to someone who could exploit her, doesn't want to show gratitude to someone she hates. But the tribeswoman is tired and scared and hurt, and it's obvious. She's broken, at least for today.

The loneliness, however, refuses to wane. It settles in her chest like a physical need, a craving for closeness.

- got inspiration for this description by thinking about hugging my partner while i was stuck in lockdown

"You can say that again," the older woman mutters, shaking her head. "God-fuckin'-damnit, Lauren, why d'you never think about the implications?"

Jemilla turns to her with a questioning look. "Who's Lauren?"

"She-" Molag begins to explain, then pauses. She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "I don't even know."

- crossover jokes hell yea

He’s tolerable, she’s decided, at least relatively so, but not trustworthy. If she could truly trust him then he wouldn’t be involved in all this. If she could trust him, she wouldn’t know him.

The thinly-veiled threat in his grin

She stares up at the man, shaking, whimpering, pleading. Wordlessly begging for him to stop.

- gotta love reaching the breaking point

She probably looks insane, bruised and bloody and laughing quietly to herself in a cage. She doesn’t care. They can think she’s insane, just as long as they don’t think they broke her.

laughing as they rediscover half-forgotten days spent as children let loose in a world that seemed so huge and yet so small at the same time

“You know, kids like Zazzalil - scrawny little things born as Autumn died - they’re not supposed to see Spring.”

- i will see any character without a detailed fleshed-out backstory and say ‘is anyone going to make headcannons about that’ and then not wait for an answer

Maybe the pain will shock her out of her head.

im going to live twice

It feels more like a bag of broken crockery than a human.

- this was the only time ive ever had to describe something really gory and decided to make it as uncomfy as possible

she notices with a concerning level of non-concern

Paul Matthews is gone, boy. And if I catch you using a dead man’s name again, well.

- its about the ✨forced disconnect✨

It stares at him, and for a moment he sees the young man that Benny used to be, silently pleading for the agent to tell him he'll be okay.

"In my defence, that was the Colonel's idea.” The man raises his hands in surrender. “I wanted to call you Lauren. I was outvoted.”

- i will take literally any chance to make a 4th wall joke and that is a threat

“I’ll see what can be done,” he assures it, knowing full well that nothing will be.

- xander doesnt flat out abuse emma in the way mcnamara and shaffer do but hes still cruel in subtler ways

“No chance of being hurt?”

Xander nods. “No chance of you being hurt.”

-  ✨foreshadowing ✨

If only he was free, free to just get up and go find Blue and tell her - actually tell her, out loud, with words - that she’s going to be okay. If only he could say that and have it be the truth.

She holds onto that piano. Right now, as she kneels crying into the tabletop, it's all she has.

- ‘sir thats my emotional support near-complete stranger’

smoke and feathers

Irony can be a cruel, twisted bitch.

- probably the best opener ive written

There’s a sort of pathetic irony in the fact that she slipped on a stone while wading across a shallow stream and broke her neck.

The stars move across the sky, and she still doesn’t know why.

- sounds poetic and all while also being a fuck you to the chorn twist because i hate it

It seems like every time she looks away the moon goes from waxing to waning and back again, time marching onwards in one unending night, swallowing one unending forest.

Even with her limited view of the person’s face, Zazzalil can see the softness in their expression. She’s hit with a pang of longing for Jemilla.

They share those tender looks that make Zazzalil long for home.

The kind of silence only shared between people who can appreciate the simplicity of each other’s presence

aaand thats pretty much all of em. i know when you said ‘some’ you probably meant less than this but i will give a consice answer to a question when pigs fly. i was going to do the double e au too but its past 1 am now and im going to bed. thanks for this ask because whether intentionally or not you just made me read 48,860 words of fic and thats a damn good distraction when things are getting a bit shitty :)

[pervyjackson]

The Passing of a Mortal

This short story is a diary entry by, the one and only, Percy Jackson. He wrote about his mother, who has passed a while ago of cancer. He still mourned over her. (Obviously, Sally’s not dead yet, but just for this short story, we can assume she did.)

~~~

“ Mortal lives may be short, but if we live with excitement and story at our fullest, once we die, we die pleasured, with no guilt. ”

Dear Diary,

Another day, when I keep thinking about her. She was an angel, the protector of my life. Passed away four years ago, but it still felt like yesterday. I feel awful. I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was spend as much time with her as possible, even when she had surgery behind those glass windows and wooden doors. She’s provided me with life, shelter, happiness and experience, yet there she went. A mere mortal, lived a mortal life to its fullest. 

I remember that day clear like the glistening waters of the Caribbean shores. 

The sky was already dark at around 7 PM. Rain was pouring. I was having dinner at home, watching Netflix with my love, Annabeth. Estelle went to have a sleepover at her friend’s. I was having dinner at home, watching Netflix with my love, Annabeth, when I received an Iris message. The mist was fiery red, which was weird as it normally is just white. I put down my spoon and paused the show. 

“It’s an emergency,” Annabeth noticed, “only gods can call on the red Mist.”

I frowned and motioned for the Mist to proceed.

“Percy?” at the other end of the Mist was no other than my father, Poseidon, with doubt and trouble all showing in his frown. He didn’t look like the usual young, confident-looking Poseidon I knew; he looked old, fragile, even hurt. His face full of worry and pain. He ordered with urgency, “Percy! Your mother is near Death’s grasp. Get to the hospital, now!” It took me a second. Then I heard Annabeth’s loud gasp of shock, and I snapped out of my stupor. With absolute fright, I grabbed Annabeth and ran out of my door into the pouring rain, we rushed to the hospital. 

Annabeth and I stood on my porch shivering from the pounding rain. I blew a loud whistle into the gloomy, stygian sky. In a heartbeat, wing beats were heard just above me, and my faithful pegasus, Blackjack, stood proudly in front of me. Despite all the rain, drooping his mane, he still stood regal with elegance.

“Sup, boss,” Blackjack whinnied, as Annabeth and I mounted him.

“No time for funny business,” I sternly said, “get us to Bellevue Hospital Center, now!”

“Yes, boss.” And into Nyx’s embrace we went.

Blackjack flew high up into the sky. The rain splatter into our faces. Annabeth was shivering in my arms and so was I, but I didn’t have so much mind to even care that I was cold. I was not cold. I was thinking about mom. Thinking how she could be dead by now and I would arrive just in time to see her lying in the sick bed motionless and soulless. Thinking how many times mom has been through this emotional roller coaster I am feeling right now for every time I went out to fight the damn monsters and battles. Thinking how I have not been grateful enough for all the times she had looked after me and been patient with me. I try to be a good kid, a good son, but I always had doubted myself, even when others tell me how great, how brave, how heroic I am. Sometimes, life really gives me lemons. Life is always testing me if I am worthy, if I deserve to live, if I am trustable. It is so hard. Expectations are high, results not as high, self-esteem keeps getting lower. What is it again? My mom’s dying? Oh, pfft, I’ve been through worse. Except, I haven’t. I have never and will never feel anything worse than losing mom. There are three most important characters in my life: mom, Annabeth and blue food. Losing one is suffer, and that is what’s happening right now. I cannot believe it.

“Yo, boss, we’re almost there,” Blackjack whinnied as we started to descend. 

“Okay, thanks, bud,” I thanked. I put all the thoughts that has bothered me this whole trip aside. Annabeth was still shivering and so was I. The cold was getting to me, so was the worry.

“It’s okay. We’re still together,” Annabeth guaranteed in a hushed tone. I tensely nodded and hugged her tighter.

After we said bye to Blackjack and watch him fly off, we rushed into the hospital. Since mom got changed rooms after the last time I visited, I didn’t know which room she was in. So, I needed to ask the front desk. Once we got to there, I slammed my hands on the desk, which had startled a few nurses and patients, but I didn’t care.

“Where is Sally Jackson’s room?” I questioned with rage and anxiety, which most likely intimidated the nurse at the desk.

“U-uh, um, are you her relative-”

“Yes, I’m her son.”

“This?”

“Is my wife.”

“Oh okay. Um, lemme look it up...” as she went through her files in that slow-ass computer, I tapped my foot with impatience, while whispering “faster, faster” under my breath. Annabeth held my hand which was still on the desk. It calmed me a little, but I was still impatience with anger. “Room 401.”

I ran off without saying thanks or whatever. I saw the stairs right ahead, so I pushed through the door and dashed upstairs with raging speed. Thoughts came and go in my mind, but I was holding onto one: mom. I needed to see her, even if it was her final breath. I needed to see her every last living second. I needed to be with her. Tears formed in my eyes as I climbed four steps a time up to the fourth floor. 401 should be the first room. Finally, I reached the fourth floor and burst through the staircase door. All the people who were in the corridor look my way as I zipped down the corridor to the first room, which was on my right. When I got there, I grabbed onto the door frame and swung in with the momentum of my body. Once I saw her bed, I braked to a stop, which almost ruined my ankle. 

There she was. As beautiful as ever. Lying is her bed with her whole body hooked onto life support. On the left of the bed was dad. He was leaned over in his chair with his hands supporting his head. His face was full of concern, yet full of understanding as well. Poseidon has lived through enough centuries to know what it feels like to see a mortal lover pass away. On the right of the bed was my step-dad, Paul Blofis. He was on his knees, holding onto mom’s hand. He had tear stains all over his face onto his neck. His glasses were foggy from tears. Mom must’ve had heard my footsteps, because she turned her head from Paul and looked at me. She still had that smile hung on her face. The smile that had brought me from tears back to sleep; the smile that had made me understand what motherly-love is; the smile that had made me love her so much; the smile that reminded me of home. 

“You left Annabeth behind,” she whispered, when I heard footsteps and panting behind me. I turned at saw her all sweaty and leaned over to gasp for oxygen. 

I chuckled, “sorry, Annabeth.” She just waved her arm, indicating me to go do me.

I turned back and walked up to her bed. Mom patted a spot right beside her waist. I went and sat. Her condition was terrible. Her skin was pale; her eyes sunken into their sockets; lips pale-grey; hair - well - she had no hair anymore, her arms were skinny, only skin over bones; her whole body was thin, too thin. It was a painful sight.  In front of me was not an unattractive female; not an ugly person; not a sick-to-the-bones person; but my loving, caring, funny, amazing mom. In front of me was the person who had guided me to a way of light; the person who had taught me how to love; the person who understood me all the way; the person who loved me, even when I was different. I love my mom. 

“Percy, my good son,” she took my hand and I held it, “I remember the day you were born crystal clear like the water. You were a big boy. You weighed 6 pounds, you know that?” she breathlessly chuckled, I chuckled, too, “it was such a pain giving birth to you. Your father was there,” she look at Poseidon. I took a second to look given I was extra emotional. “Poseidon stood next to me and held my hand when I squeezed. After painful hours, you arrived to the living world. The nurses had to wash you off, but I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t do it. I had to hold you in my arms to make sure Mr Immorals-Like-Me-Doesn’t-Have-Time-For-This saw you,” Poseidon smiled, with guilt, “and when he saw you,” she looked at me with those lovely eyes, “he grinned from ear to ear. He said he already sees potential in this little boy. One day he will be a leader to heros. He will be highly accepted in his world, where demigods and gods appear at. I believed him. I still do,” she took some shallow breaths and continued, “now look at my boy. All grown up. He’s a man now. A leader, just like Poseidon said. You have a lot in front of you, Percy. Your path is bright, even though what you went through was dark as hell, oh my gods,” she did a cringe face and I snorted, “but you still made through it, that means you will conquer anything as long as you believe in yourself. Right there, in your heart,” she strained to raised her arm a little, just so she could signal me to put our hands to my chest on top of my heart, “and you, darling,” mom said as I slowly put our hands down, turning her head to Annabeth who was balling next to me, “need to take care of my boy, Percy. He can be a brat sometimes, but I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to stop him-” “Mom!” “Figured.” “Annabeth!” “It’s true!” mom matter-of-factly stated, “and, Annabeth, you are the best girl I can ever ask to be Percy’s wife. I am so proud that you and Percy have made it all this way from the beginning to the end, you two have stayed together. Keep being awesome!” mom turned to Poseidon, “oh, dear, you have been such an amazing man, or god, I suppose. Everything about you is great. Although you have not been there for most of Percy’s life, you have made him as powerful as the waves and as courageous as the horse. Y-yeah, horses are cowards sometimes, but most of the time, they are brave and proud and elegant. I am probably just another mortal woman you have fallen in love with, but I promise you I’m more than that,” mom gave him a warning look and laughed it off, Poseidon grinned and scratched his beard, mom turned to Paul, “my love, I think I have told you everything I need to tell you, so whatever I say will be repetitive. You are exactly my dream man. I love you to the edge of the universe and back. Since the universe keeps expanding from the beginning until now and it’s still going, you know my love for you is infinity. I have so many things to thank you for and I think I’ve already thanked them all already. Every conversation with you reminds me of how we met every time,” mom started tearing up,” I love you, Blowfish, and I will forever more.” At this point, all of us have teared up, except Poseidon, because he is Mr I-Will-Not-Cry-Over-A-Mortal-Dying, although I can see his eyes getting bloodshot. Paul leaned in and gave mom a kiss on the lips. Tears were dripping all over his glasses. A loud sniffle came from Annabeth, “sorry, I must’ve caught the cold.” We all gave it a slight laugh. 

We sat in silence, remembering all the good times we had with mom. From day to night, from start to end, from young to old. We all know how much mom means to us and how much we mean to mom. The heartbeat monitor’s used to be slow-but-steady beats start slowing down even more. We all suddenly start panicking from losing mom.

“My loves,” mom whispered painfully, “relax. Dying is what makes mortal lives so precious. Some may say we live to die, no we don’t. Just like we don’t start a book to finish it. We get intoxicated by the storyline as the characters drive us on a roller coaster of adventures. We see, feel, touch with them. Mortal lives may be short, but if we live with excitement and story at our fullest, once we die, we die pleasured, with no guilt. I love you all. Just like you all love me. Keep being awesome, keep loving, keep growing...” with that, she closed her eyes. The heartbeat monitor continues slowing and an alarm begins to ring.

“Mom? Mom! No, mom! Wake up! Don't go!” I broke down in tears and panic. We were all panicking and Poseidon was slightly in fright, but still in his chair. Doctors and nurses rushed into the door, while we were all still in panic. Then, mass chaos began with nurses pulling Paul who was still shouting mom's name; more nurses pulling Annabeth and I away as we struggle in their arms, hoping to make our way to mom; and a couple intimidated nurses leading Poseidon from his seat. Doctors ran checks and scribbled things on their boards, while we were all still screaming mom's name, crying till our clothes were soaked. After a bit, a steady beep was heard from the heartbeat monitor. 

At this point, I couldn’t even hear myself or other people anymore. I only knew I was crying and screaming. Annabeth looked into my eyes with her sad, storm-grey eyes. She took my wrists and pulled me to her. She held me tight. Then all I could hear were loud beats of my heart. Annabeth squeezed me in her arms. All I could do was hold on weakly as I was barely able to even stand. She was talking to me, but I could only hear drowning mumbles and distinct screams.

Mom. I know you know this. I love you. 

7-1-20

Your good son,

Percy

photo credit: http://www.drawingskill.com/art/29757

[niall-is-my-dream]

You & Me - Part Twelve

2440 words

Callie's POV

You stayed in Niall's bedroom for an hour after Kim and Sam had left. Curled up with each other on his bed, kissing, talking and kissing some more. Both of you agreed that you couldn't let everything that was happening with Saskia come between you. 

Niall had done nothing wrong, they'd dated, he decided to end it and he told her straight and kindly. He didn't ghost her or behave rudely to her, in fact you thought he had been too nice to her over the last few months. When she had turned up at rehearsals and at the Dublin gig, he had been polite to her, even when she was screaming at him for ending it. He had been verbally abused by her on numerous occasions and had taken it.

To say it broke your heart at how much it was affecting him was an understatement. His album was to be released in less than a month, he had interviews and performances to do. But he was a true professional and wasn't going to let it effect the buzz he was feeling at finally sharing his 18 months of hard work.

After the stress of the meeting with Kim and Sam, the group decided to chill out at home for Bex and Willie's last day in L.A. Although Saskia wasn't a physical threat to either of you, you were still worried about him, Mully and Willie going to the grocery store to get some supplies for a bbq.

"We will be fine." He said, as he ran his hands up and down your arms reassuringly before leaning in and kissing you goodbye.

He had been warned that although the court order prevented her from being near him, that didn't mean that she hadn't tipped off other paps to follow him with the prospect of an exclusive. Niall had a strict policy of never talking about his dating life. He was here to be a musician and talk about his music and interests, not his love life.

With the lads gone and the security gate and front door securely locked, you made your way through to the kitchen.  You were desperate to talk to Bex alone, she was always the voice of reason.

Making another coffee for you both, you sat down at the kitchen table, the patio doors open letting the lunchtime sun in.

"So the shit hit the fan then!" Bex said trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah it fucking did!" You laughed. "Honestly you couldn't even make this shit up."

"Only in Hollywood hey?!"

You nodded before taking a sip of your coffee.

"How are you doing?" She asked.

"I'm actually ok. I'm obviously sad and shocked that it's happened but I'm also angry. Like how could she do this to him? I just....... He's an amazing guy and she's ruining him all because he wasn't interested in her anymore."

"I actually feel sorry for her." Bex said and your head shot up. "Hear me out ok?" And you nodded. "These models are told how to look constantly, they work out a lot, they're constantly on a diet. I doubt her mental health is good because of it."

"I guess. She was just so rude and shallow, she thought a lot of herself."

"Yeah and that's what she is use to in the world in which she lives in. It's sad really, I mean does she even have a good set of friends. You and I are lucky we have each other you know? Does she have that? Someone to rely on? I doubt it. It's all fake."

"Doesn't excuse her awful behaviour though? I mean who texts someone and says she's going to ruin them?!"

"Doesn't excuse her behaviour at all. Please don't think I'm sticking up for her or trying to justify her actions. I'm just saying her way of life is very different to ours. Being ahead of the game and ruthless is something she's use to. She probably didn't even batter an eyelid when she messaged him that. Is he doing ok?"

"He says he is but I think it's really got to him. He's worried about telling his parents, he hates worrying them. Plus I need to tell my parents, God I haven't even told them we are dating, now I have to tell them this too. They aren't going to be happy."

 "I'd be more worried about Tom." She replied.

You ran your hand down your face and let out a massive sigh at the prospect of telling your older brother that not only had you got involved with Niall, which he had told you not to do. But you also had to tell him that Niall's crazy ex was stalking you both.

 "Maybe you should make sure that Claire is with him when you tell him." She smiled.

 "Oh God yeah, Claire needs to be there. Think I'll Skype my parents now actually before it gets too late." You said looking at the clock on the wall.

"Ok, well go in the living room and I'll be just in here if you need me."

"Thanks hun."

You were shitting it if you were being honest. You set up your iPad on the coffee table and sat down on Niall's big arse sofa. What was with this boy and his massive sofas? You knew your Mum would be reading on her iPad like she always did in the evening, so would see the request for a Skype call. Within seconds of calling she had answered.

"Hi baby girl!" She said excitedly. "How are you?"

"Hi Mum, I'm good. How are you?"

"Oh you know, same old. What about you? You've got a few days break haven't you? Where are you, in LA?"

You had given your parents a schedule of where you would be while you were away, even adding the time difference for them. Your Mum had panicked one time when you were in Canada for a show with another artist and she had forgotten the time difference. She couldn't work out why it took you 5 hours to reply to her text. You had been asleep in bed, as it was night time there.

"Um is Dad there? Want to talk to you both."

"Yeah he is, hang on." She said before the screen showed the artex ceiling as she made her way over to the sofa where your Dad was sitting.

He waved and blew you a kiss. You were a Daddy's girl, even at 25 your Dad still blew you a kiss when you skyped.

"Hi Dad."

"Hey sweetheart, everything ok?"

"Yeah, I just need to talk to you about something."

You told them that you and Niall had started seeing each other and their eyes widened. They hadn't been expecting that. When you told them about what was happening with Saskia, your Dad took off his glasses and sighed. He ran his hand down his face just like you had done in the kitchen not so long ago.

"So there's a restraining order, so she can't come near you or Niall?" Your Mum asked, her voice laced with worry.

"It'll be just to prevent her from coming near him, but it'll protect me and other crew members since we are all together on tour."

"What about the break next month, when you come home?"

"I'll be with Niall for a lot of that anyway Mum. Look, she's not going to hurt us. She's just not happy that he ended things and wants to make out that he cheated on her with me."

"And did he?" Your dad asked.

"No!" You replied shocked that he had asked you outright.

"Paul!" Mum gasped.

"I had to ask, you've been working with him for what ten months and nothing has happened until recently?"

You internally cringed at having this conversation with your parents.

"Yes, we have always just been good friends. He was single for a few months before we got together."

"So she's just jealous? This is just because she got dumped?" Mum asked.

"Pretty much."

"Wow, she sounds a little bit crazy." Dad said shaking his head.

"She is." You replied.

You heard the front door open, the sound of the lads chatting as they entered the house. Looking up you could see Niall place his bag on the ground and make his way over to you.

"I'm just on Skype with my parents." You said looking at him.

He nodded and came and sat next to you.

"Hi." He said nervously. He hadn't a clue what you'd said or what their reaction had been.

"Hi Niall." Your mum said. Your Dad just nodded, but smiled.

"So I've told them what's been happening." You explained to him.

"Ah." He replied, nodding. You could tell he was nervous. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm sorry that I have put your daughter in this position. I had no idea that Saskia was capable of this behaviour. I care about Callie a lot and...... " he paused for a moment. "Hopefully my legal team will be able to prevent her from coming near us and from publishing pictures of us going about our day to day stuff."

"Niall, we are sorry to hear that you've been going through this. Callie said that this girl has been harassing you for weeks. Your family must be worried." Your Mum said, that clear protective motherly tone coming through.

"I called them while I was out actually. My Mam is coming over to London when we get back for a few days to stay with me. They both know I've got a good team who look after me."

"Maybe we could meet you in person, if you have time while you're back?"

Oh god.

"I'd love that. I'll check our schedule and maybe we could all have dinner together at mine." He replied and took your hand in his.

Your Mum was definitely won over by him, she practically swooning at his offer to cook for you all. You could see your Dad ticking everything over in his head.

You ended the call not long after. Closing the iPad and placing it flat on the coffee table, throwing yourself backwards you landed on the sofa and let out a massive sigh of relief.

"They took that pretty well. My Mam freaked out, she's insisted on coming to London."

"Yeah they weren't too bad were they? Sorry they asked to meet you."

"Why are you sorry?" He replied as he crawled up the length of your body and settled himself between your legs. 

"Just a big thing isn't it, meeting the parents?"

"Should I not have invited them to dinner to meet my Mam to?" He asked as he leaned down to kiss your neck.

"Mmmm, you know talking about our parents whilst your kissing my neck and rubbing your erection against me is weird."

He laughed against your neck, but carried on regardless. You pushed your hands up through his hair and across the nape of his neck. 

"The things you do to me." He mumbled as he rubbed himself against you again.

"For fuck sake you two!" Willie smirked as he walked in the living room. "Get a room!"

"This is a room, in my own house!" Niall said, as he turned his head towards Willie.

Willie just laughed. "Come and get the bbq going you daft twat, there's plenty of time for that later." Before he left the room and headed towards the kitchen you presumed.

"We will finish this later Petal." He said smirking, before standing up and adjusting himself in his shorts.

You all changed into swimwear and grabbed some towels. The lads had brought a pop up football net at the grocery store, along with all the food you would need for the bbq. Niall had got it lit, leaving it to warm up while yourself and Bex got some salad ready in the kitchen.

It seemed almost crazy how easily the whole Saskia fiasco was forgotten as you consumed bbq food that afternoon and played games. Willie and Bex were due to get picked up at 8:30 that night ready for an overnight flight back to London Heathrow.

You always worried about her while you were away. Yes, she had other friends that she spent time with and a busy job, but you two were close. It felt good knowing that she had started dating Willie. While the lads tried to header the ball in the goal before falling in the pool with a splash, you and Bex had a catch up about her and Willie. Things had already got quite serious in the short space of time that they'd been together, similar to you and Niall. They text everyday and saw each other as much as their work schedules would allow. You could see how smitten they were with each other.

When it came to say goodbye to her that evening, you both cried like you always did. However it would only be just over a week before you could see her again back in England.

Over the course of the next few days Niall had a number of interviews and meetings for the album release next month. You kept yourself busy by going to the gym that Mark had recommended to you. Kicking the shit out of the punch bag always made you feel better. You didn't worry about feeling unsafe, it didn't even cross your mind, but Mully insisted on coming with you wherever you went.

With the Mexico leg of the tour cancelled due to an awful earthquake, you only had the Rio show to do before a 3 week break from tour. This was going to be a busy three weeks though with the album release and various interviews and performances. 

Niall was on form in Rio, the troubles of what had happened with Saskia over the last few months were firmly locked away and forgotten.

The legal stuff went through without a hitch, she hadn't contacted him and no stories had appeared in the press. 

Flying back to london after the show had felt good. Niall had a golf event to attend in Scotland which meant you had a few free days to spend with Bex and Willie playing the third wheel. It also meant it gave you chance to catch up with your brother and sister in law. You'd asked your Mum and Dad not to mention you and Niall to him, as you wanted to tell him face to face. You were not looking forward to it.

Part Thirteen

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/183397925828/you-me-part-thirteen

[writtenwordsoffic]

The Inquisitve Snake - Jughead x Reader - Part 7

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Masterlist

@idle-lanes @sgarrett49 @murderyoursoul@moonlight53@redhairedoddity @j-headjones

“Woah there Jug…” she gently laughed while she took my bag from me - I was tipping over when we finally got off of our stools. “Here I thought I couldn’t handle my liquor well…”.

My body felt light and I felt like anything I was hiding didn’t matter to the world…especially in front of her. I tried to refrain from hiccuping as we exited The Whyte Wrym. “…didn’t you drink more than me?”. I walked slowly trying to focus on each step in front of me.

She gave a soft giggle. “Yeah I did…”, here voice was a little heightened - a little louder, but I don’t think she realized. Hell, I might had been screaming too. She started to walk ahead of me. “I live close if you need a place to crash for the night”, she refrained from another giggle now aware at how loud she was being as we felt the cold breeze outside.

“You don’t…”, I almost tripped on my foot but a hand caught the front part of my arm.

She laughed again while looking me up and down. “You aren’t going to make it far Jug”. She let go of my arm as I regained my balance.

I nodded. “I don’t really drink that much…”. I felt embarrassed by my current state. My face could had been bright red but she didn’t seem to care.

“Neither do I to be honest…”. She walked slower next to me. I think part of her was anticipating me falling again. “It’s fine. My brother works nights anyway. He won’t care. Is that alright?”, she was talking a little slower than usual. Maybe making sure that she wasn’t slurring her words.

Throughout my body I could feel a nervousness. I knew she was offering her place as a friend. A friend who was also a bit drunk and was just being nice. But I couldn’t help to think what her place looked like…or her room for that matter. I truly wanted to know her better even if part of me knew Betty wouldn’t like it. But Betty wasn’t here. She hardly was around me ever anymore. “Okay. I should take my bag”.

She laughed - a somewhat harsh cackle bellowing out. She quickly covered her mouth out of embarrassment. “Sorry”. She slowly handed the strap over to me, “sure you can handle it?”. She walked backwards a little, taunting me with my own item. Her roaring laugh once again came out. She stopped in her tracks once again covering her mouth.

I couldn’t help but smile at it, or her for that matter. She was letting loose. Not letting the events of the day get to her mind. “I can handle it”, I stood up as straight as I could, grasping hard on to my bag. A smile when to her lips and I once again couldn’t help but stare. “You shouldn’t hide it you know”.

Her brow furrowed as we once again started to walk in step. Her slightly leading the way. “Hide what?”

“Your laugh. It’s nice”

She quickly shook her head as she seemed a bit embarrassed still. “No it’s loud and odd. That’s what Paul said anyway…“. She slumped a bit, her eyes more focused to the ground and the walk ahead of us.

“He’s wrong”. As my words lingered I saw her rustling in her bag, we turned a slight corner as she made her way to small house at the end of the block. It was still Southside, and while it was nowhere near the niceness of Riverdale suburbia, Y/N made her way to the door while slightly fumbling with her keys. The house looked older on the outside, a little beat up in places but not bad for the area.

“hey…”, she somewhat whispered as she was now aware of her neighbors. “You coming or what?”. I looked back to her not noticing she had already unlocked the door. I nodded and made my way in behind her.

She entered in, quickly turning on the light beside her, she turned to make sure I closed the door behind me. A closet door facing us while a small stairs going downward could be seen as well as a small hallway on both sides of the closet. She went to the right and within a few steps we were in the kitchen. An old blue and white checkered pattern of linoleum rested as the kitchen floor. Y/N slightly stumbled taking her shoes off, somewhat focusing on the ties in front of her by biting her lip. My eyes once again flickered to her lips as well as smelling the soft smell of lavender in the air. I decided take my shoes off in suit.

“Are you hungry?” Her voice was at a somewhat normal tone now.

I thought about it for a moment. “I kind of feel like I just need to sit surprisingly”. She gave a small chuckle and tilted her head towards the opened are on my right. A small living room laid open. A bookshelf, two smaller couches, a beat up coffee table and an older tv resting in place. She went to the fridge while I decided to sit on the gray couch. My body somewhat rested into the corner of the couch as I laid my head back. I was pretty sure this was the most I had ever drunken before. I still wasn’t sure what my dad saw in it.

I heard her light footsteps behind me as I closed my eyes a bit, I heard her come nearer. As I opened them, I looked to the corner to see a dresser. It was topped with some pictures frames as well as some books that were thing and long.

She sat down next to me, handing a glass of water over. Honestly that seemed perfect in the moment. I took a few gulps and then placed the glass on the table in front of me. She giggled lightly at my actions while carefully sipping some water herself. “I’ll get you some blankets and such so you can sleep on the couch”, her head shifted to the blue one on the other side of us.

I was wrestling with a thought in my mind and my mouth won quite quickly. “Where’s your room?”.

She laughed again while she set her glass down. “Well, you’re kind of sitting on my bed”. I looked down and tried think if I was that drunk. “This is my room Jug”, she ushered around the room with her arms a bit wide.

“Oh I didn’t…”

“It’s okay. I kind of came here abruptly”. She got off the couch and eyed me to switch my sitting to the other one. I did just that as I watched her talk and move the coffee table. “This is my brothers place…well half brother anyway. Same mom different dad’s. His Dad lives in Midvale though. I only ever saw him here and there growing up but we mostly get along”. She took the cushions out of the couch now. “His room is downstairs with another bathroom so I mostly have that one to myself”, her eyes went back to the hallway. She lifted a small handle from the base of the couch and pulled out a bed. Light sheets already folded and covered while she grabbed the cushions to fill the gap behind the back of the bed. Seemed to be a queen size. “If you need it, you can sleep here with me…not that I’m implying…well I know you have Betty. I understand if the couch is….”

My mouth once again thought quicker than my brain, “a bed sounds better”. I somehow cursed myself in my mind. She gave a slight smile but didn’t notice how uncomfortable I had gotten. Not because of her presence or because she had brought up Betty, but more because I couldn’t help but think my mouth would spill something I didn’t want coming out.

She went to her dresser and pulled out some plaid bottoms. “I’m going to get dressed in the bathroom but I’ll see if I can find something of my brothers for you to wear. I nodded as my eyes followed her out of the room. I sighed thinking about her changing - something I found to be a bit pubescent of myself. I removed my beanie and put it on the coffee table, ruffling my hair from the sweat I was feeling from being both a bit drunk as well as nervous. I went to the small kitchen table behind the living room, draping my jacket over a chair. She got out of the bathroom giving me a small smile and gesturing she’d be right back. I couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed she seemed. More than at the bar and much more comfortable than at school that day. My heavy legs made it back to the blue couch sitting and waiting for a moment before she returned back.

“The shirt might be a bit big but the pants tie up in the middle”, she handed me some stuff while I got up again. Making my way to the hallway bathroom. I quickly closed the door as I thought about my moment alone in the mirror in front of me. Behind this door was a beautiful genuine girl who didn’t seem to judge anyone off the bat. A girl that had been teased for being herself and for embracing it. A girl who could stand up for herself when needed to be and had genuine interests unlike the norm. A girl who was intelligent and could hold up such a conversation for hours. I looked in the mirror trying to remember who I was months ago. But the thing was, I hadn’t changed. I was still Jughead. Someone still weird lingering inside but someone who wasn’t nervous about their darkness around this girl. She could embrace it and find the positives of it all. She didn’t tell me I was better than my choices, or that I was following in tow with my father’s past. She just accepted it all.

After changing and putting a little water on my face, I came out of the bathroom placing my clothes by my jacket. Only a small light was now on as I saw Y/N nestled in her bed. She gave a yawn as I entered “her room”.

“I usually read at night but man, my eyes can’t focus”. Her drunken little laugh came back as I lifted the sheets. Giving her an arch of the eyebrow making sure it was okay. She gave a slight nod as she nestled back into her pillow. “Guess I’m sleeping on the side of a bed tonight. I usually…”, she yawned again, “get this whole baby to myself”. I gave a smile to her comment as I rested my head on the pillow - finding myself only being able to stare at the ceiling.

I was a bit afraid if I turned my head that I would be too entrapped by Y/N’s subtle beauty or the growing intoxicating smell of lavender. Instead I stared up while my mouth once again beat my brain to word dribbling out. “Why did you go out with him?”

“Hmm?”. I turned slightly to see Y/N’s eyes somewhat closed. Her hand clenched on to part of the pillow as her hair laid around her shoulder in one fell swoop.

“Paul. Why did you go out with him?”.

She gently shrugged, opening her eyes for a second before they fluttered back close. “He was nice to me and asked me out. No one had ever asked me out before….”, her words were getting slower. “I just thought that’s what teenagers did…that maybe I was wrong about myself”. She yawned one more time. “Really I was just wrong about Paul”.

I paused thinking over her answer. “I’m sorry he turned out to be a jacka…”, as my eyes turned I saw that Y/N was now fast asleep. I couldn’t help at smile at her relaxation or how she held on the pillow for dear life. “Goodnight Y/N”.

I looked to my phone after being greeted by too much light from a window. Missed Calls 2 

Betty: Where are you?? 

 My eyes perked up as I read the text. “Well shit”.

[iwrotemywayto-revolution]

Inconceivable

Request: okay I can’t find it but basically it asked for jefferson cheating on the reader and the reader going to the rest of the hamilsquad for comfort.

Pairings: past Jefferson x reader, platonic hamilsquad x reader

Warnings: cheating, mac n cheese, some swearing in multiple languages, the title is a reference to the princess bride

Word count: 1,851

A/N: I tried to make the reader gender neutral, so I hope that worked! Also fils de pute is french for son of a bitch and mierda is spanish for shit.

--

It was a warm Friday afternoon and you were exhausted but happy when you finished work early. You checked your watch as you headed towards the subway station, figuring you had enough time to grab something special for dinner. 

Maybe some of the mac n cheese from the little restaurant on the corner, you decided. Thomas would be home and you wanted to surprise him. 

You and Thomas had been together for two years, ever since you met at one of the Schuyler sisters’ galas. He had insisted on getting you a drink and inviting you to dance to whatever pop song had been blasting out through the speakers in sharp contrast to the couples waltzing on the dance floor.

-

“That’s not even slightly right, Alex,” you pointed out, “If you completely dismantle a system you have to have something in place to pick up the pieces-”

Alex looked like he was about to argue back when someone behind you caught his attention. “Thomas,” he glared. You glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of a bright purple-y pink coat and a halo of dark hair. 

“What are you being wrong about today, Hamilton?” Thomas asked smoothly, idly stirring some kind of cocktail. “Is it everything?”

Alex straightened. “I was being right,” he snapped, “about how much nicer this conversation was before you joined it.”

You laughed and waved as Alex turned to go. “See you later,” you called after him. He grumbled something incoherent in return and you rolled your eyes, heading towards the bar. Thomas followed you.

“What’s someone cute like you doing in a place like this?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. You snorted, surprised at his attentions. People like him didn’t generally try terrible pick up lines on people like you.

“Getting a drink,” you said, accepting your glass from the bartender. 

“Might I join you?” He extended his hand, “Thomas Jefferson.”

“Y/N L/N,” you shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

-

A small French take-out place around the corner from your office made the only non-homemade mac n cheese that Thomas would eat. You waved at the owner, Jean, as you entered and went to order from your friend Lafayette, who was working there on his evenings off. 

“Hey Laf,” you grinned.

“Y/N!” He leaned over the counter to give you a clumsy hug, “What can I get you?”

You pretended to consider the menu, “Mac n cheese for Thomas.” 

Lafayette’s nose crinkled. “A travesty,” he muttered, voicing the general opinion of Thomas’ love for the cheesy pasta, “and France’s only mistake.”

“I’ll come over to yours with the leftovers tomorrow,” you teased. “I promised I’d come over to wake your hungover asses up anyway.”

Laf made a face and called your order through to the kitchen. “There will be no leftovers,” he pointed out, “because Thomas will eat it all. But don’t you dare bring that near our beautiful apartment.”

Jean came out of the kitchen, mac n cheese in a styrofoam box. Lafayette took it and slid it into a paper bag for you to take. You pulled out your wallet and paid. “See you tomorrow,” you waved as you left. 

You hurried down the stairs to the subway, just making your train.

--

You unlocked the door and headed into your apartment. You couldn’t hear Thomas, so you guessed he must still be at work. His schedule varied so much that he could be home at two in the afternoon one day and ten at night the next. 

You slipped off your shoes, shrugged off your jacket, and went to dump the mac n cheese on the side. Yanking out your phone, you fired off a quick text to Thomas.

To: Thomas

I got something nice for dinner- when are you getting home?

You heard the familiar ping of Thomas’ text tone and frowned. Had he left his phone at home again? Wandering through to the bedroom, you kept an eye out for it. It would be just like him, you thought fondly, he would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his body.

You pushed open the door to your room and headed in, clicking Thomas’ number so you could find the phone by the dial tone. 

It rang and you heard Summertime start to play somewhere. You looked up and your mouth fell open. Thomas was in bed with someone else. You still held the phone to your ear, and it was still ringing. 

“Thomas?” you asked, feeling very far away.

He sat up, clutching the sheet to his chest as though it would hide what had been going on. Beside him, a guy sat up, wearing one of Thomas’ shirts half buttoned. 

“Y/N-” Thomas gasped “this isn’t-”

“You’re a dick,” you choked out. You stalked forward and punched him in the jaw, before whirling round and all but running out, pausing only to grab your jacket and keys. You let the door slam shut behind you and were dialling Lafayette before the elevator doors had even closed.

“Hey Y/N!” Laf said cheerily as he picked up, “Good timing- I just finished my shift-”

“I’m coming over,” you interrupted, surprised at how steady your voice was. Damn, you wanted to throw something. All you could see was Thomas’ surprise when you found him, your mind replaying the moment when the guy beside him sat up in bed, curly hair in disarray and mouth kiss-swollen. 

Thankful that you had forgotten to take your key for Laf and Alex’s apartment out of your jacket, you all but ran down the street towards their building. People gave you weird looks as you passed them, and you could hear Laf’s concerned voice in your ear.

You hung up and clicked the buzzer that was neatly labelled “G. Lafayette and A. Hamilton” and waited. When they had first moved in, you remembered Lafayette trying to fit his whole name onto the label, and Alex complaining.

-

“It’s a stupid name!” Alex said childishly, ripping up their third paper slip, “And it won’t fit.” 

Lafayette drew himself up to his full height. “Nobody calls Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette stupid.”

“Nobody’s got the time,” you pointed out, and handed them both a coffee. John followed you through from the kitchen, two more coffees in hand. You had agreed to help them unpack and get started on setting up, but so far they had mostly bickered about where to put things. 

“You do realise we’re all going to end up living here?” John pointed out as he hopped up to sit on the counter, “This place is fucking brilliant.”

Laf only raised an eyebrow and sipped his coffee. “I would hope so.”

-

You unlocked the door and walked into their apartment. Shrugging off your coat, you threw it over the back of one of the chairs in the kitchen.

“Y/N!” Hercules yelled, pulling you into a crushing but brief hug. “It’s been ages since you’ve got your ass over here.”

You grinned. You could never stay sad around Herc. “It’s not my fault you’re always out when I come over.”

“We put the game on,” Herc said, and you followed him over to the couch. Laf patted the space beside him and you threw yourself down between him and Alex.

“What happened?” Laf asked, “You said you were not coming tonight- you bought that mac n cheese-”

You swallowed thickly. “I wasn’t going to. But when I got home, Thomas was in bed with some guy-”

“Oh mon chou,” Lafayette sighed sadly, “I’m sorry.”

Alex walked through, empty mug in hand. He’d been working on an article all day- you could tell by the crease in his shirt from where he leaned against the desk and the way he blinked in the light of the living room. “What’s happened?”

“Thomas- that fils de pute- has been cheating on Y/N,” Laf explained just as John walked through.

“Mierda,” he breathed. “That dick.”

Alex looked furious and picked up his laptop. “I’ll fight him-” he promised, sitting down beside you and opening twitter, “by tomorrow no one in the whole country will want to touch him-”

“Thanks,” you laughed, gently closing the lid, “but I’ll settle for watching a movie with you guys and forgetting about it.”

“You sure?” John asked, looking worried. You nodded and he settled on a bean-bag beside Herc, who had already opened a bag of crisps. He offered them round as Laf stuck The Princess Bride in the DVD player.

You let yourself relax, focusing on the screen. Alex rested his head on your shoulder, muttering under his breath about what he would tell Jefferson at work on Monday. 

Laf unfolded a blanket and threw it over the three of you, then threw a spare cushion at John. It hit his head and, without a pause, he turned and threw it back.

You laughed and joined it, throwing one at Herc, who smoothly ducked without looking away from the screen. “Terrible aim, Y/N,” he said.

“Oh?” you grinned, “test me with a nerf gun and you’ll regret it-”

Herc shook his head. “No one will risk you with a nerf gun,” Laf pointed out, stealing a handful of crisps from Herc, “we value our lives.”

--

Alex fell asleep first, snoring softly into your shoulder. Laf went next, draping himself across your lap, his hair coming out of its bun. “So much for a late night,” John laughed, “they didn’t even make it to the end of The Princess Bride.”

He got up and took the DVD out, stuffing it back into the case. Herc stretched, groaning as his muscles popped. “What should we do about them?” you asked, nodding to Alex and Laf.

“We’ll all pile on my bed,” John decided, slipping an arm around Alex and lifting him up. Alex grumbled but clung onto John, curling his fingers into John’s shirt. Herc helped Laf up and the two of you helped him stumble down the hall to John’s room.

John’s bed was massive. He set Alex down on it and disappeared to get pyjamas for him. Herc disappeared to get his and Laf’s, and you were left to stop Alex falling back asleep.

John came back with two pairs, handing you a blue set. “I think those might fit you,” he offered, and you left to get changed. 

Everyone was changed by the time you got back. Alex was in the middle of the bed, still holding onto John, who had curled up beside him. Laf flopped down and Herc lay beside him. You squeezed in and tugged at the duvet so some was covering you.

“Night,” you said sleepily as you reached to turn out the light.

“Night,” came a muffled reply. You lay down and closed your eyes, thankful to have your friends with you, knowing you would have spent the night alone and angry if you had stayed home.

Now you knew that Herc and Laf would go back to your apartment with you in the morning and help you either kick Thomas out or collect your stuff. Alex would roast him on twitter in a fifty-one part rant, and John would make your favourite food for dinner.

It was more than enough.

[racingtoaredlight]

What’s Been Lost

The guitar at the top is a 1968 Gibson Johnny Smith model.  The picture below is a collection of all the parts I assembled my Precision Bass from.  These are two of my all-time favorite models of any instrument, in any period of history, but they represent two sides of a progression that we can’t reverse.

When Leo Fender released the Fender Broadcaster in 1950, it changed the world of instrument manufacturing forever.  If you think that this doesn’t impact the actual music...you need to adjust that view immediately.  The Fender Precision Bass alone almost completely eradicated the upright bass’ presence in popular music.

The Johnny Smith model from 1968 is a stunning example of human craftsmanship on a variety of levels.  My P-Bass is designed after a 1957 Precision Bass...an instrument 11 years older than the Gibson.  However...to this day, after numerous corporate changings of hands...you can still see how Fender is looking forward while Gibson is looking to the past.

This is not an argument about what’s better or worse, rather a discussion about what was lost in this progress forward.

***

I talk about music history a lot because context is important.

Johnny Smith was an old-school jazz guy.  He grew up in the jazz age...an age that didn’t have sophisticated amplification and PA systems and solid-bodied guitars.  The acoustic properties of a guitar were as paramount as the amplified ones.

You teach acoustically.  You practice acoustically.  You play in big bands and trios acoustically.  And these old “archtops” were designed specifically for this purpose.  They were big bodied and thunderous sounding.  A Gibson L-5 or Super 400 was designed to be heard through a big band’s mix acoustically, because amplification wasn’t a given.  And Gibson had been making guitars like this since the late 1800′s.

In contrast, Leo Fender started his company solely with electric guitars in mind.  It’s important to understand this dynamic, because it had long-reaching effects that not only impacted Gibson, but the music world as a whole.  And while a lot of this was for the better, there were casualties along the way.

***

It’s hard to think of this as new school and old school, but it’s a HUGE change.

The top image is a modern version of the classic Johnny Smith floating pickup.  You can see that the pickup is reflecting off the top, and that it’s not attached to the guitar itself anywhere.  The pickup is mounted on the pickguard, and no screws were put into the guitar’s top itself, to preserve all the acoustic qualities.

Wes Montgomery was a new school guitarist when he hit the scene, as weird as it is to think of a 60′s jazz guitarist in those terms.  You can see that his guitar has a hole drilled into the top, with the pickup screwed into a mounting bracket.  This helped tremendously in keeping the big, hollow guitar from feeding back...and was much more suited for amplified playing.  Floating pickups from this era were essentially afterthoughts...”hey you need to plug into something, and this doesn’t fuck with the top.”

I’ve played both floating and fixed pickup archtops.  An archtop with a fixed pickup is not a great acoustic experience.  Sure, it amplifies an acoustic sound, but it’s neither loud nor particularly pleasing.  Plugged in is a different story, but there wasn’t much of a window this style of guitar proved to be practical in, even if it was an improvement over a floater.

But this was Gibson, the company, saying “we see the movement music is making, and we need to adjust.”

They might have been kings of the arcthop, jazz era...but Fender essentially said they’re not even going to challenge in this area, instead focus on the future.  To their credit, Gibson made moves in this regard with the solidbodied Les Paul...but there was still tremendous demand for the old school archtops, as the music industry still had a spot for guitarists like this.

***

Gibson themselves kind of killed their archtop legacy in 1958, when they released the iconic ES-335.  They had a number of other smaller, thinner bodied archtops, but the 335′s centerblock underneath changed the game.

You could still get an airy jazz sound out of it, but now you also had access to all the overdriven rock sounds that were blossoming during this time.  And the 335 still retained a lot of the hallmarks of Gibson’s craftsmanship you see in their archtops, but at a much more approachable price.

Same with the Les Paul.  If you didn’t want a “jazz guitar” then this is where you went.  And while there are degrees of craftsmanship involved in the 335 and Les Paul, it’s nothing anywhere near the level of expertise you see in Gibson’s archtops.

This is to say nothing of Fender-style guitars, which don’t require any craftsmanship at all.  It’s hard to compare hand-curved sides of beautifully aged flamed maple, ebony overlays, mother-of-pearl inlays, gilded hardware, pristince spruce tops...to instruments you can put together with a screwdriver.

Wood doesn’t matter with a Fender.  It’s almost a subtractive influence on the tone, rather than an essential ingredient.  It’s incredibly unfair to say this, also not true whatsoever...but there’s really nothing special about a Fender.  Even in the lauded pre-CBS era, it wasn’t made by a single person, it was made on a conveyer belt, and it’s just a machine or tool rather than an instrument.

Again, that’s not fair...but in comparison to a vintage Gibson?  It’s 100% accurate.

***

If you’ve never played guitar...any instrument really...and you’ve never experienced playing a Fender-style against an expertly crafted archtop, it’s hard to understand this dynamic.  Even talking primo vintage or boutique versions, the experience just isn’t the same.

To the audience, this might not matter, but to musicians it’s HUGE.  The personal experience of actually playing an instrument like these archtops is special.  Not “baby gloves” special, but special in the sense that this instrument is not something you can just go and play at Guitar Center.

Few weeks ago, I talked about vintage electric guitars...and while playing a 1959 Strat, both me and the guy who was selling it agreed we wouldn’t trade it for our modern-Strat variants.  But acoustic instruments are different beasts, and age differently.  A solid Fender or Les Paul isn’t going to change much as its wood ages...but an acoustic guitar absolutely does.

Spruce is a very resinous wood, and as the thin top ages, that resin starts to evaporate, radically changing the acoustic qualities of the guitar.  A certain “crispiness” and “airiness” comes out in a very pleasing way.

Electric guitars create a pleasing sound for a bigger audience.  But acoustic guitars are more personal.  More intimate.  They have a character all to themselves.  As music becomes more electric and less intimate, this is lost.  We could talk about electric acoustic guitars, but that’s a discussion for another day*.

*Spoiler Alert...I think acoustic guitars with pickups sound like utter shit, and it’s a stupid ass thing to do in the first place.  Play a fucking Strat or an old Gretsch or *GASP* an old Gibson archtop.

***

So, to answer the question, what have we lost?

We’ve lost craftsmanship.  That’s not to say the progress made hasn’t been worth it...if I haven’t made this clear yet lets get it settled, there is zero practical advantage in playing an old-school archtop today, and a whole lot of pains in the ass.

But there’s a distinct lack of charm in today’s instruments, even high-end custom shop models and from boutique makers.  Guitars supposedly one of a kind seem completely mass produced.  For example, I found over 400 used examples of Gibson Custom Shop’s flagship Les Paul that ranges from $6,500-$8,500.  Check out their “Murphy Lab” of supposed one-offs and try not to gasp at the prices.

But, to my point, how could you possibly feel there’s anything special or unqiue about any of this, buying one of them new?

All of these modern guitars are significantly easier to make than those old archtops, and there’s a substantial premium built into the price due to the artificial aging.  I’m sorry, but that’s not craftsmanship as I like to think about it.  Again, this has nothing to do with the practicality of the instruments, just emotive content.

Below, I’m going to highlight a bunch of features you find on these beautiful old archtops.  You don’t find this on guitars made by anyone anymore.  Gibson will do an L-5 or something as a special one off, but these guitars are artifacts of a time long gone.

***

Wood Quality - Here’s the sad truth...Fender, Gibson and Martin completely eviscerated the old-growth forests that had the highest quality woods in the ‘50′s and ‘60′s.  You just don’t get this type of incredible wood anymore, even when paying a premium.  The spruce top on the Super 400 above is violin quality.

***

Inlay - Look at that motherfucking inlay!!!!!!!!!!!!!  If you’re dropping $8k plus on a guitar, would you rather have workmanship like that?  Or like this?

***

Flamed Maple Necks w/ a “Stinger” - The stinger is an ebony overlay on the back of the headstock, something aesthetic only that’s like a treat for the person playing it.  You can see in the top two L-5 and Super 400 pictures that the stinger travels down the middle of the neck, while on the bottom Johnny Smith that has a 3-piece neck, it adorns the top and bottom.

The wood the neck is made of likely has little impact on the guitar’s overall sound, but it’s beautiful.

When I started to show promise on guitar, I started classical and jazz lessons with this hardcore motherfucker drill sergeant who had one of the most beautiful guitars I’ve ever seen (made by Brad Nickerson), the flamed maple neck especially.  Every time I was fortunate enough for him to let me play it, the sensation of wrapping my hand around that neck and seeing the beautiful flamed maple is something I’ve been chasing for decades, and still haven’t found.

The idea that it’s a “treat for the player” totally resonates with me.  The audience doesn’t care, nobody else is going to touch this guitar, it’s expensive as hell for no other reason than looks...but it’s a treat for the player that makes the instrument more special.  I do bond with my guitars, and while I love playing all different kinds, ownership is different.

I’ll have my flamed maple neck someday.

***

“The Scroll”/Point - This probably makes the most sense as to why Gibson stopped doing this, no matter how cool it looked.  As guitar became more amplified, and more virtuosos emerged utilizing the upper registers of the guitar, this ornate little detail took up precious real estate where you could add more frets.  For old-school jazz guys, only having 20-frets wasn’t a big deal at all.  Different story in the modern era.

***

Ornate Hardware - You can see a variety of different, unique tailpieces above.  The top two are L-5 tailpieces...which were pretty consistent throughout, occasionally putting an artist’s name on the middle section and subtly changing up the engraving.  The Super 400 was consistent all the way through, in terms of the design...but would feature unique engravings over the various eras.

Below is the tailpiece you get on a brand new $8,500 guitar today.  More practical?  Absolutely.  But it doesn’t have the same charm as the gilded stuff.

***

Cool Little Touches - Yea I know it seems weird complaining about a guitar company in the modern era not engaging in cost-prohibitive things like making guitars seem personalized and unique.  But back in the heyday of these guitars, they were personalized and unique.  Typically made by the same small handful of skilled craftsman...not in huge teams with CNC machines.

Those cool little features...the mother-of-pearl heart inlay on the Wes Montgomery L-5, and the hand engraved “Super 400″ on the butt of the guitar’s neck...it’s hard to say guitars made by people willing to obsess over details like that are replaceable or mass produced.  As much care and art went into making the instruments themselves, as it did from the musicians using it to create.

The 7-ply binding on the bodies and 5-ply binding on the neck and headstock looked absolutely gorgeous.  It serves zero purpose, but just looks really fuckin’ cool.

***

Listen, I get why we don’t see shit like this on guitars anymore...even guitars made by Gibson.  But still, these are artifacts of a niche of history that is already gone.  The progress of the future leaving you behind doesn’t mean that something necessarily bad or unwanted, it might just not fit.

But there’s something sad in things like this being lost to the march of time.  You see little details like these, and you know that an expert human being was responsible for creating this...not some machine or some underpaid laborer.  It takes years to develop the skills necessary to make things like you see in the images above.

And while that doesn’t diminish the quality of the craftsmanship and sound of modern guitars, there’s something missing that you get with guitars in this style.

Whether it’s the macro guitar world moving towards solid bodied guitars that require less craftsmanship...or the macro guitar world moving towards amplified styles of music and away from its acoustic roots...what’s been lost is an appreciation for a guitarist’s personal connection with their instrument.

[a-smilethat-explodes]

Chapter 10 Grocery store antics

We all got into Adam's Mustang 10 minutes later. Ben got into the back behind Adam. When I tried to get in the front, Jake pushed me in the back as he claimed shotgun. Great. We all quietly listened to Adam's music, unusual for the four of us, but I wasn't in a real chatty mood at that moment.

"Okay, girls, what's the problem?" Jake finally asked from the front seat.

"Nothing." Ben snapped back.

"Drop it." I stated flatly.

"You guys are acting like a bunch of sorority girls in the middle of a "big fight." Adam put in.

"Thanks, Adam." Ben snapped back.

"I have some tissues up here. We could talk it out, Oprah style, if you'd like." Jake offered.

"We're good." I shot back.

"A good cry never hurt anyone," he replied wisely.

"You'd know all about that." Ben shot back.

"Why are you being such a bitch, Ben?" Jake said in a breathless, high pitched, girly voice.

"Let's just go to the store, get some groceries, and get back." Ben grumbled back.

Everyone was silent as we rode, even Jake, which surprised me. But I knew better then to think that the silence on his part was going to last long.

When the familiar dulcet tones of Queen's "Under Pressure" filled the car at a stop light, Jake shouted, "YEAH!" and then began rocking out. I smirked.

"Dude… Jake… people are…" Adam began though he was obviously holding back his laugh.

"PRESSURE!" Jake shouted, throwing his arm around Adam's neck. "Pushing me down!" he wailed.

"JAKE!" Adam shouted over the music.

But it was hopeless. "Pressing down on you no man ask for!" Jake wailed. "Under pressure! That burns a building down! Splits a family in two! Puts family on streets!" he let go of Adam and began jamming from side to side. "Bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah!" That's when I started laughing hard. "Bah, bah, bah, bah!" he wailed. Even Ben finally gave in and laughed at Jake. The tension was broken.

As Jake wailed along with Under Pressure, Adam pulled into the parking lot of the store. We all got out, still laughing.

"Can we play Snatch?" Jake demanded as we walked across the parking lot.

"NO." I shouted.

"Erik!" he whined.

"Remember the old lady called the cops on us the last time we played Snatch?" I demanded pointedly.

"Cart!" Jake shouted, Snatch instantly forgotten. He ran over to the shopping carts, grabbed one, and jumped on the back, riding inside. We entered the store; he got off, jumped into the cart, and shouted at me, "Push me!" I pushed him and he rode, posing like a superhero.

"To the cereal aisle!" Jake boomed impressively. Everyone in the store turned and watched as I pushed him majestically across the store. Adam was bent at the waist, laughing hysterically, and Ben was laughing too, shaking his head. The other patrons of the store looked at us and then all shared a look that seemed to say, "Teenage boys…"

"LUCKY CHARMS!" Jake shouted, jumping out of the cart, and grabbing a box, looking thrilled. There's nothing like shopping with Jake.

"We're out of peanut butter." Adam announced when he could finally draw breath.

"Yes, we are." Jake agreed as Adam walked down the aisle. He jumped back in the cart and bellowed at top volume, "ADAM! DON'T FORGET THE PENIS BUTTER, SWEETIE!"

Ben and I lost it. We leaned against the shopping cart, laughing hysterically. Adam was holding onto one of the shelves at the end of the aisle, kneeled over at the waist.

I looked up at Jake, who gave Adam a shy, girly wave back, and then lost it again.

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind us. I pulled myself up on the cart, still laughing, to find the store manager standing there, arms crossed. It wasn't the first time we'd been spoken to. "Gentlemen," he said gruffly. "I'm going to have to ask you to either start behaving yourself or to leave the store. You're disturbing the other customers."

"I'm sorry, sir." I said, trying to hold back my laugh.

"And you'll need to get out of that cart, sir," he pointed at Jake. "If you fall and hurt yourself, there could be a lawsuit."

"I'm sorry, sir." Jake jumped out of the cart. Once the manager had walked away, he glanced at the rest of us, and then all four of us lost it again. I hung on to the cart to keep from falling over on the ground laughing. "Penis butter!" he rested his arm on my back as he chuckled helplessly.

We got the rest of our groceries relatively quietly. We walked outside and then Jake started in again on begging to play Snatch. "No, dude! Remember the security guard from last time?" Adam reminded him impatiently.

"Come on!" Jake shouted. "You know you love playing Snatch."

"Oh all right." Adam relented. "Once," he said as we got into the car. He pulled the car around to the beginning of the sidewalk. We watched the customers come out of Albertsons carefully.

"There." Jake pointed as an old woman with white hair came out, hands filled with groceries.

"Let's go." Adam revved the engine as Jake rolled down the window. I began to laugh in anticipation.

Jake cleared his throat as Adam sped down the road then leaned out the window. As we neared the old woman, Jake suddenly bellowed, "SNAAAAAAAATCH!" and then brushed his hand over the top of the woman's head.

She screamed, throwing her groceries in the air, and the four of us burst into laughter as Adam quickly sped out of the parking lot.

Sure it was immature but when was Jake anything but?

We went back to the apartment and then I had to go to work. I felt my good mood fading as I anticipated going to work. Paul… overeager girls… crying children… it wasn't looking like a fun evening.

I walked in, a full five minutes early, and found Paul behind the counter on the phone, saying something with a smug smile. "Let me call you back…" he fixed me with a meaningful look as he added with extra emphasis, "Laura."

Think of the hardest thing you have to do. I beat you with trying not to roll my eyes at Paul.

"Bye," he hung up. "That was Laura," he said importantly, stretching, and showing off his fine set of pit stains. Made a guy like me feel real lame for not having a girlfriend.

"Cool." I mumbled as I set down my backpack behind the counter.

"I'll be in my office," he said gruffly and then disappeared, leaving a fresh scent of sweat and cheap aftershave in his wake. I made a face, grabbed the Febreeze off the counter, and sprayed it in front of me. I'd rather smell flowers then Paul. Can you blame me?

Later that night, I casually kept an eye on the customers milling around the small store. They were adults so there was nothing really to watch for… I sat, reading for my next class.

The bells over the doors chimed as it opened. I looked up leisurely to find Christine and Ben arm and arm.

Did I miss something?

"Hey dude." Ben grunted as he tossed Fight Club down onto the counter.

"Hey." I replied automatically.

"What do you want to watch, Chris?" he asked, steering her away from the counter.

I couldn't make sense of it. Not even 10 hours ago, they were loudly bickering in the apartment.

Whatever. I shrugged to myself and tried to go back to my books but I couldn't stop looking up and watching them.

Ben slid his hand around her slender back, accented with a black tailored jacket. He whispered in her ear and she smiled up at him. She stood on tip toes in her Converse and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled back down at her.

I rolled my eyes and then caught sight of a customer coming over. "Hi." I got up with a smile automatically.

"Hi," the woman smiled back. I got her movies for her and then stayed busy as everyone in the store seemed to make their decision all at once. The store was empty 10 minutes later, except for Christine and Ben, who were talking quietly among the shelves.

Paul's office door opened and he cleared his throat grandly as he made a big show of putting on his jacket. I groaned inwardly… how I loathed this man. "Well I'm going to be heading out for the evening," he announced extravagantly.

"Okay." I nodded in reply.

"I can't keep Laura and the kids waiting," he tried to smile but it came out like a smirk.

"I understand." I lied. Just get out already.

"Make sure to watch the video cameras," he said loudly. He has this weird paranoid thing that people are actually going to steal the cases of movies (if people actually do that, they're really pathetic).

"I will." I replied.

"And don't forget to lock up," he pointed at me.

When did I not? "Of course." I nodded diligently.

"See you Thursday," he said gruffly and then left the store.

I breathed a sigh of relief and then heard quiet laughter in the stacks. Ben poked his head around. "That guy's a dick," he told me.

"Yeah he is." I agreed with a half smirk. He disappeared again and I went back to my homework until they came up to the counter. "All set?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied, wrapping his arm around her. He really didn't look like he was trying to rub it in my face… maybe he really did care for her. I rang him up. Maybe he had realized the error in his ways and had apologized to Christine.

But from what I knew of Ben, that didn't sound like him. "$3.00." I said and then went back into the stacks to find their movie. Ben isn't an overly apologetic person. But people make mistakes.

I shook myself mentally. Stop it, Erik. Just let them be.

I grabbed their movie and looked at Christine as I walked back out of the stacks. She looked away, looking annoyed.

I set the movie down and then droned, "The movie's due in three days," as I tore off his copy of the receipt and folded it up. "Have a nice day." I advised then forced a smile.

"Thanks." Ben replied, taking Christine's hand, and turning to the door.

Christine looked at me as he opened the door. Our eyes locked for a long moment. Her sharp green eyes bore into mine.

You deserve so much better then the way he treats you.

And then she was gone.

[nikfix]

Circus Tricks with the Ringmaster, Francis Lorenzo

Photo by Alyza Abacan

I met Francis Lorenzo (or Fran, as many people call him) after my band Garage Morning played a set at Checkpoint Rock Bar in BF, Parañaque. We headed to Tas Roofdeck to have drinks with MOONWLK’s Nick Lazaro, Isa Romualdez, and a few other friends. He goes in the same gym as with my bandmate and close friend, Roy.  I began looking at Fran’s stuff after meeting him, and we even got to play with his former band Sleepwalk Circus, which makes really good music. I would see Fran again a few months after at the Fete dela Musique Post Rock/Math Rock Stage, playing with acts like AOUI, Tom’s Story, Twin Lobster, and others. I was amazed with his intricate arrangements and textural guitar work. I’ve been really curious with what he uses to create these awesome guitar tones.

How did you start making music and playing guitar?

I remember fragments - how I initially wanted to be a pianist but eventually got too defeated (I really suck at piano, one would think it’s just a simpler typing keyboard) that I moved to the guitar instead. Till this day I kind of regret it, the keyboard is the ultimate future proof instrument that can do everything (forgive me guitarists, if I could - i would gladly be labeled a stringed traitor).

Photo courtesy of Fran Lorenzo

How did your career, and your band/s start out?

I used to play solo gigs under my name I think? I really can’t remember - but eventually a lot of those songs got carried to Sleepwalk Circus which was formed with my friend Jm Quiblat (I was the sleepwalk chill guy / he was this energizer bunny circus guy). Cut to now, I went full circle and am sort of back alone.

Photo by Alyza Abacan

Who are your main influences? And how did they inspire you to play better?

Can I answer this one guitar wise cos entire musical wise might be too long and boring for people? Not a lot of credit is given to Billy Corgan (Sorry, I meant William) when it comes to influencing a generation to pick up or play a guitar a certain way. Then we have Sigur Ros for that large orchestral guitar sound, Kevin Shields for the even noisier stuff and Phil Keaggy for all those minstrel stuff. But ultimately sound wise, I think I am more influenced by piano/keyboard players as a whole, I have evolved (devolved?) into a guitarist trying hard to sound like a keyboardist.

Tell us more about your music.

1st Band: Sleepwalk Circus - these guys are still active but without me around (Sorry we had no drama, but we can think of a nice move-like story/scenario if you ask us. It just won't be consistent). Back then tho we relied a lot on delays to fill out stuff - having a perfect bpm drummer really helps enhance this. They have a much heavier sound now but do check em out.

Current: TheRingmaster - In summary, we could say this was initially the spinoff series to SC - I am going to release a new album soon where I collaborated with a lot of cool musicians! I don’t really use much delay/reverb as before but I think at this point anything I make turns out dreamy for some reason. I guess it’s one of those natural inclined sort of things. I sadly can’t give a date yet on the release because I myself don’t know. I’m really bad when it comes to those kind of things.  

You can hear a lot of my stuff in commercials or tv shows. I tend to fool around with my last name but if you see Fran <insert dumbest last name you can think of>, usually that is my stuff. (Clearly we get bored in the credits section of these things)

Future: I have plans to have someone with me in the future - the equal partner. Some songs are semi done (I write a lot) - to be honest i’m more excited about this than my upcoming album release.

I’ve seen you play that awesome Shoreline Gold Suhr JM. Tell us more about it!

I was never really a fan of Strats or Jazzmasters (or a fan the Fender lineup in general - mostly because they look so normal and generally have a thin/bright sound). Strats were generally tinkly sounding (with addition to having the most generic guitar design) while Jazzmasters have this weird “look at me people” mid attack sound going on. And then along came this Suhr Strat, you can say I was “initially forced” to get it because a friend of mine (Carlos Tanada) at the time needed additional money to lessen the wedding whapam.

But wow, just from feel alone you could tell its difference from a regular fender and below tier Strat. The neck setup and plek make everything so comfortable. Also I don’t know what John Suhr does to make it sound so balanced. How one can best describe it is - it sounds like you don’t need to treat it in post anymore - kind of balanced. I also like how it is enough to be different but not so different enough that strat players won’t complain about it. Carlos bought the strat back eventually by the way.  

With that in mind I tried out the Suhr JM for the sake of seeing if Suhr was consistent for that model too - honestly I was hoping I wouldn’t enjoy it, but I did and ugh - poof went the $$$. This thing was meant to be played with an overdrive forever on. Also It didn’t help the only available one left was the rare Gold model either! Aside from unique red-ish guitars, i’m a sucker for white and gold guitars! I had to get it. Again I am sorry future sick me who won’t be able to pay his emergency medical bills.

What about your other guitars. Which is your favorite one, which ones do you use the most for gigs/recordings and why?

Like all musicians, I name all my important guitars. In general I like ‘clearly a gem but undesired anyway’ guitars. It would be like Lobster, everyone knows lobster is amazing but majority always name Sushi, Steak, Lechon or Spaghetti as their favorite dish:

Bijou, The Gretsch White Penguin - I don’t bring this one around too much because it requires too much care, that kind of care that doesn’t go well with alcohol. This is probably my prettiest guitar and I would say is an example of a 10/10 lookwise guitar. Even non-music instrument people would ask about it - like a work of art, there are so many pleasant details to appreciate from the pearl inlays to the efforted gold sparkle binding. Sound wise, it has this great acoustic sounding clean + overdriven tone which I did use on a few of the songs for my upcoming album! But honestly I only ever really desired one purely on looks. Much like not really caring if a supermodel I will marry has wonderful cooking skills or not. 

It was always a childhood dream to own one so when an opportunity came to get one at an attainable price - i had to do it. I’ve been contemplating on selling it (I had it low effort posted) because I honestly have no right owning one, in the same vein we should question the lifestyle of a homeless man driving around and living inside a Rolls Royce.

Bill Goldberg, The Suhr Jazzmaster - This is the current workhorse / live gigging guitar. It plays and sounds so consistently well no matter what amp I am use which is why it ended up becoming my current go to guitar. It has that Suhr comfortable PLEK neck playability and still has enough looks and symbol power to make people go “Awssshiiii” when they see it. I do want to change the pickguard to some custom art piece made of wood one day, perhaps when I look at my wallet and realize I haven’t made a terrible life decision in a while. Also I like how despite the price, there is something about Fender type design guitars where should a ding or a massive paint scratch accident occur - it's alright. Like an expensive dirt bike - it looks prettier should it take a beating.

Natasha Sashiminov, The GIbson BFG Les Paul - I remember when this model first came out, everyone kept dissing it because it looked so ‘bad’ in photos plus it wasn’t of tradition. C’mon oldies, it’s called BFG (actually stands for “Badass Fucking Guitar”) so you can tell the target market already. I saw one in person (It really does look nicer in person) and tried it out - so warm and loud + great sounding for the price tag. I think I got it for brand new 35k range (Considered cheap for a Gibson and my first REAL/of worth guitar) back then - a true unwanted gem. P90 and burstbucker combo + chambered body keeps it nice and warm. The non lacquer wood looks so raw that if a ding occurs, you would think it was part of the design - I love it, no guilt from accidental dings. The first gen ones then became sought after a while (they’re more expensive now) - people eventually realized they were actually great guitars. Recently I heard Gibson released a new BFG version but the configuration of this first gen one is still better! (Attached is a tripleplay to make it output midi notes)

MEH, the James Tyler Variax 89 (USA Version) - These things are apparently super expensive, like an absurd $3000+ range expensive because the USA versions are limited + built in James Tyler’s factory with his specs. That being said this is the ugliest guitar I have. The only reason I got it was I really wanted a Variax for recording purposes and finding a cheap one was near impossible (The Korean models go up to $1000), but then I found someone who was selling it to me for cheaper the price than the Korean model! (Don’t want to give exact amount I paid because people will get annoyed) And just so I can say I own an actual James Tyler. Feel wise though, this is sadly the comfiest of all guitars to play with. PLEK, Perfect smooth playability no matter how you set it, playing at higher frets still gives a center stable non jittery tune note on the tuner, graphtech nut and tuners make it super stable no matter how hard I strum, real humbuckers sound awesome and of course the HD modeling, etc. See, I always find myself justifying its existence. I remember asking Micsis if he would like to paint it white and then somehow make it all fancy but he gave me a “No, this coat is expensive. And there’s a cpu inside.” reasoning so cue ~ sadface and any form of hope. But in fairness I use this thing a lot for recording albums + works, I could say this is the most useful guitar in my collection - as much as possible I don’t want to be seen with it tho.  

Tinosexual, the Antigua Squier Baritone - This is how I usually do my bass lines when recording or if I need -5 down song writing inspiration. I only mention this here because apparently this certain model is sought after - and I got it at a really cheap price. Like below 10 cheap. Hee.

The First One / Art Guitars - I have guitars that I keep at weird tunings / for display. I currently have 2 DND’s being sanded right now before I can ask my go to artists to work on them so I can’t picture em at the moment. This picture is actually my first ever ‘guitar’ made with Indonesian artwork to give tribute to my homeland. It’s a piece of garbage sound wise - I used it on one song in an old Delusion of Reference album (Merry Frolics) where I needed an annoying cheap ‘sounds broken overdriven guitar sound. I was thinking of helping market some of these artists to do commissions in the future so i’ll mini tease that here.

Let’s take a look at your pedalboard. What effects do you use live?

Hoboy hoboy this is where my face actually lights up. I’m not so interested in drive / dirt pedals but I do keep myself updated with the stuff out there. I base my purchasing on ‘uniqueness’ and ‘featureness’. Sometimes I don’t understand why people would get X + Y pedal when pedal Z does em both for half the price at better/equal the sound. My pedalboard at home / recording is the same as my live so I don’t need to remove anything + I still sound the same live. If I could give pedalboard advice though, give yourself a size limit! And try not to exceed that size. It makes for easier gigging + controls the unnecessary gas.

1) Digitech Freqout - This is the only pedal out there that does this kind of sound. It sounds more natural than the boss feedbacker and you can adjust how fast it ramps / how loud it goes or even the pitch and when it activates. I lent my ebow to a friend after getting this as well because it can do that sound - ish.

2) Dwarfcraft Silver Rose v2 - The original one I believe was a BillyC commissioned pedal by Devi Ever that got discontinued because the two had a falling out. Dwarfcraft revived and improved the v2. After getting this fuzz, I immediately sold every other fuzz (except for one) I had - this was that tone I was looking for. Controlled messy fuzz. I can’t describe the tone so I suggest people look it up on youtube instead. It has so many modes! I also love that this fuzz has a clean through knob to help with the ‘control’ and layering.

3) Devi Ever Rocket - Of course I had to get this for that SP Muff tone. On one side it has a messier version of a MUFF and a crazy octaver fuzz on the other. This thing is amazing for thickening or for “notice me / stank face” fuzz leads. Yes, it does the siamese dream tone stuff really well.

4) EHX Pitch Fork - This pedal has amazing polyphonic tracking, add an exp and it can do whammy stuff. It also does pog stuff. Has a blend knob and has a chorus like effect in built as well. Why do people even bother with the other similar featured pedals then like the Pog / Digitech Drop / etc?

5) EHX Soul Food - I like the sound of Klon drives simply because they are really transparent. This Klon clone is the only drive I have tried that doesn’t affect the tone of the guitar or doesn’t cut the low end. I would like to get a tumnus one in the future just for real estate reasons but the Soul Food is priced too well.

6) Boss DC-2 Dimension C- I love this chorus, it’s so subtle in a way that if I am plugged into a stereo setup - it will sounds like I am double tracking but am on time a lot. Think the Cure type subtle chorus - so naturally great for coloring clean tones.

7) Boss SL-20 Slicer - This was a dismissed pedal by many because of its ‘one trick’ pony-ness but this really is useful for time based rhythm effects especially if the drummer is following a strict bpm. They come by really cheap here but in Japan I remember it being sought after because the synthers use it to spice their pads up. Sometimes if I can’t think of anything I place a basic loop and just have the slicer come up with riffs or pattern ideas for me.

8) Eventide H9 Max (2) - Owning a Max automatically turns up to 4 H9 cores into a max. (Hey you friends trying to take advantage of my remaining slots! I see your slithery intentions!)  I would really like to have gone back to multi effects - it makes things so much easier but there are so many unique effects in the H9 that I use a lot (from other pedals as well) that I can’t go back as of now.

9) Digitech Jamman solo XT - I only use this because I used to have 2, I wanted them to sync and I wanted my loopers to have a set bpm with savable banks. Usually I tend to play verse/chorus in advance so I can focus on singing more live, it goes well with the inbuilt loopers of the H9’s.

Sideboard - Optional RC202 or VE20 depending on gig : Voice effects only on long big sets or if I have a guest singer with me. I make her do dynamic effects on our signals + a few triggering.

10) Strymon Zuma. Before I had this thing - my board was such a hassle to power with adaptors everywhere that would get lost / broken etc. Not to mention the extension cord / wire nightmares. This is the only PSU out there I know that could provide my power needs. The H9’s are hungry. The Jamman, Freqout and Pitchfork also require their own hungry selfish slot. That’s 5 hungry slots down without the remaining others. But money well spent - it’s so quiet.

Also let me tell a story for people who can’t comprehend why one would spend so much on a proper PSU, I once played a gig where they was an outdoor fountain. I brought my Les Paul at the time and because of the gun metal hardware (suspected) and improper shielding, every time i touched the guitar and the mic I would become electrocuted. I had to stop the set because it was getting legit scary and painful - that even roadie who held it nearly dropped my guitar. Cut to future where I played similar gig but this time with this PSU (same guitar) and poor no more noise and electrocution! It could be that they fixed their power thing but I will give credit to the PSU.

What amps do you use at home and live? Oh noes - forgive me pure bloods, I don’t believe in real amps! (Except for live where I have no choice) I honestly think modeling amps are better. My priority has always been recording and to 100% of people who have told me “My recording of a mic’d amp” sounds better than an even basic line 6 - I am sorry, we just don’t have the heart to tell you it does not! Hell even your heroes don’t hide that they prefer modeling. It’s cool though, i get to level up my ‘nodding so hard + snickering sipping’ plastic look.

What are you listening to right now?

Olafur Arnalds has an album coming out soon that I can’t wait for - the releases so far have been amazing. Same goes for Halloween Alaska! A little Lambert here and there as well as stuff from my musician love - Alice Sarah Ott.  The new Jon Hopkins is so pleasant to the ears too so I occasionally go to that + Kiasmos old stuff which is in a similar venn diagram.

What advice can you give to your fellow guitar players and musicians who want to play like you do?

Be lazy if you can, let your pedals do the work for you. Think of it as computer code that you can efficiently make use of so you can focus on doing other things.

Nice chords > blupluplubplupl headache solos.

Will your notes sound good on a keyboard? If so awesome!

Swells + OD + Delay + Reverb = whale sounds = boring. Don’t do it. That’s not ‘experimental’ anymore. Also why is it strymon people always make demo vids/clips of whale noises? What a waste of power.

In the same vein fast dotted delay sweet disposition style delays will make me like you less as a guitarist. Sorry, i meant as a person.

Play with looper pedals! Learn how to support yourself with a long bars. Don’t solo over yourself though, rhythm jam with yourself. Also any loop noise / accidental or ugly when in a pattern could potentially become great music if escorted with the right notes.

Reverb is not meant to hide your notes - it’s meant to accent, enhance or immerse.

Play the same chord 5 times in strong generic strum vs a 5 times crescendo strum. Which sounds better?

“You can coat a turd gold - but its still a turd” so make sure your source instrument is actually nice sounding.

BPM perfection is oddly a skill I find lacking in the general musician population. Play rhythm games guys. Parappa the rapper or Um Jammer Lammy guys! They’re less forgiving = training!

Find yourself an extremely skilled versatile guitarist and do the opposite of how that person plays.

Once you start playing to impress - you have failed.

Ignore all my advice and don’t listen to what anyone tells you to do. They don’t know you like you do.

Get to know The Ringmaster by checking out his stuff!