#stephen is especially guilty of this and i think it's very interesting how he thinks of himself versus how he acts

[quatregats]

Something I've been thinking about is how Patrick O'Brian manages so skillfully to write characters whose actions contradict their beliefs, which I think is honestly a big part of why his characters feel so real. Mostly with Stephen and Jack—e.g., and perhaps most notably, Stephen has notably leftist sympathies (honestly I have no idea how to characterize his politics in period terms) who nonetheless becomes very comfortable with his rise to the landed gentry, while Jack is a card-carrying Tory who much of the time sympathizes far more with working class sailors and farmers than with the upper classes—but I'm sure he does it to a lesser degree with some of his minor characters (James Dillon, while perhaps not precisely minor, comes to mind), and I love that he's able to do that, especially the way in which he embeds it in the narrative. We see how they're all unreliable narrators of themselves; we understand how they want to be seen and how that does and doesn't coincide with the reality, but most importantly, this isn't presented as something reprehensible, just as a part of their own humanity. They are not their expectations for themselves, but they don't need to be those expectations to be beloved.

[kimmimaru]

Ok, so I love horror. I'm obsessed with it. I honestly don't know why I don't actually write much of it though, I think its because I don't think I'm very good at it lol. One of my fave authors is Stephen King, the man is a genius but he churns out books so fast I can't keep up and only have so much shelf space, sadly lol. Has anyone else read Doctor Sleep? That shit was brilliant, my fave is IT but Doctor Sleep is defo a close second. Very long, nonsensical ramble under the cut about Hojo, Vincent and Lucrecia:

But anyways, I'm doing a couple of little horror fics for Halloween, they're doing alright I suppose. Not particularly ground breaking or anything but they're ok. The fics are, of course, FF7 fics and both revolve somewhat around Hojo. I don't know, I find him one of the scariest characters. He's terrifying, especially in the OG. Not exactly sure what it is about him specifically that scares me more than other characters, because like, Sephiroth is the main 'bad guy' in the story but Hojo's just creepy. Like if I met someone like him irl he would be giving off all the red flags. You know there's just some people who just give you the creeps, even if they're a total stranger? Like every cell in your body is just telling you RED ALERT? That's Hojo for me lol. Maybe its because Sephiroth's motivations are somewhat understandable, he loses his mind because he finds out he's not human and his entire life probably wasn't good. I can understand that, I too sometimes look at all the horrific shit humanity has done and wonder if its even worth keeping us around you know? But Hojo, at least as far as I'm aware, isn't really given any other motivations other than 'because I can' or 'I want to see what happens' and to me that's creepy. Not to mention that in the OG he does kind of try to make Aerith...do stuff...with Red 13...which uh...no. No absolutely not. Lol. Also...why the fuck is he considered so attractive in the OG? He doesn't just manage to lure Lucrecia away from Vincent 'my ass looks great in leather' (just trust me and pause AC at the moment Vincent crouches before jumping into the air to attack Bahamut SIN and try and tell me it doesn't lol) Valentine but also somehow manages to attract a whole gaggle of bikini-clad women on the beach in Costa Del Sol. HOW?? Ok, so I can sort of see how Lucrecia could have agreed to carry Hojo's baby, its probably because she's a scientist too and was also interested in the results or whatever...but still, lady...please wtf were you thinking? At least the beach-goers have the excuse of not knowing Hojo, Lucrecia does not have that lol. How can she spend god knows how long around Hojo and not think; this man is a creep? Honestly I would kind of be interested in seeing something about how all that happened, was he acting different around her? Was she just blinded by the curiosity of the experiment? Was it simply due to the fact that he was the only other man in the mansion when she freaked out about Vincent and her history with his father?

I think maybe that's why I don't write anything much about Lucrecia, I just can't get into her head. I don't understand her at all. To me, not a lot of her choices make any sense. Her actions feel weird and illogical and I'm not sure if its just me being autistic about it, or if I'm missing something in the story or what. But going from 'I love Vincent Valentine' to 'oh no I feel guilty because of Vincent's father's death therefore I must dump him and go with Mr Creeps over here'. Because that's not going to make him feel a billion times worse than just...I don't know, explaining why you're worried and talking shit out? And then sticking the monster that actively killed his father INSIDE him. Its fucking weird. (and then you have Vincent's own weird ass guilt, its non-sensical to blame himself for HER decisions. The whole story is just a giant shit show lol). Does this make any sense? I don't know. I had some Thoughts and needed to write them down. Ugh.

[doctorofmagic]

@junoofthestars said:

concept: nightmare as a shapeshifter-esque villain who can take on different roles in order to properly psychologically torture stephen. like, wouldn't it be awesome if we got a scene where nightmare confronted stephen using donna's image?

and they could have different actors portray nightmare during different scenes and it'd be wicked

I love this concept so much cause, really, he doesn't shapeshift that much but he's the master of dreams so it would make perfect sense!! Also there's this one issue in which he was presented as a female so OF COURSE I'LL DIG THIS. I know it's hard for many actors to do the same character but that's a very interesting concept imo.

@wavy-arms said:

I'm honestly still pissed that Stephen only gets to mention his dead sister ONE time in a DOCTOR STRANGE movie but we had to see Wanda be sad about her fake-ass kids over and over.

Not the NFT kids having more focus than the actal protagonist knowing that they had a full tv show to explore them. This is going to be my joker origin.

@i-sudoku said:

I was just about to post about a missed opportunity. The Donna scene could have shown when Stephen stepped on the memory disc or whatever it was called in 838. That would leave deeper impression to understand who Stephen was and why he needed to "hold the knife". He could bond with America about losing family members and feeling guilty.

@mckiwiwrites said:

I love Christine but when he stepped on that memory plate, it should’ve been Donna.

Donna shaped who Stephen is more than Christine could ever hope to. It doesn’t even have to be the memory of her death, just a happy memory in general. The audience would see how carefree Stephen used to be, how happy he was, and the audience would think “why haven’t we ever heard of her then?” When Stephen talks about her death and gets choked up over it, the audience would be more sympathetic towards Stephen and have an emotional connection with her than just a name drop provided. Donna holds no meaning to people who don’t already know Stephen’s backstory. Plus, the line “but we don’t talk about that, do we?” would hold a lot more meaning, because “why haven’t we ever heard of her then?” That’s why.

(It would also make Stephen’s relationship with America have that much more depth.)

ALL OF THIS 👏

I think the animated movie did a better job at representing Donna's death's impact in Stephen's life, and how his need to control death is directly connected to his trauma. I know the circumstances are different from 616 (in the animated movie, she died in the operation room after Stephen refused to accept her cancer), but it always comes to this point in time. He decided to be a doctor when she got injured during their childhood. He was born to be a healer and I think the whole MCU failed to show this part of his subjectivity, which is sad. I can only hope that they don't drop the ball next time, especially now that Clea was introduced.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part 3 (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)

AN- Thank you for the patience for this one! My little boy has been unwell so it has taken a little longer than I had hoped but here is the third instalment! It’s a little shorter than the others but that’s because I wanted to contain the angsty part in one chapter, the next ones will hopefully be longer..

This one is a little more angsty, a lot more emotional, but I’m quite happy with the outcome and I hope you are too! As usual, please let me know any thoughts/feedback! And enjoy!

Word Count: 2510

"Is it just me that finds Stephen Fry a bit.. sexy?" You spoke, watching the television as Young Ones' Scumbag College competed on University Challenge. "I don't know what it is about him. He's just.. got such a lovely voice, and he's so sodding clever and his CLOTHES- got much better looking with age, mind." Mycroft only hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Hmm.. He's not really my type." You laughed and petted his head fondly.

"You don't have to be gay to find another man attractive Myc." You mused. "Me and Greg talk about it all the time, though he fancies Hugh Laurie more, especially in Blackadder." You laughed, thinking back on the memory of Greg's fondness of George in the Blackadder Goes Forth series.

"I'm aware that sexuality and attraction are not the same, Y/N. I am comfortable enough in my own heterosexuality to appreciate another man's features. In fact, I very much agree with Gregory's view on Mr Laurie. Stephen, however, is not my type. The few people that did speak to me in University used to tell me I reminded them of him in the way I behaved but, and I quote, 'without even a lick of his humour, you miserable bastard.' Thus, I cannot look at him in that way." He laughed a little and you cleared your throat.

"Oh.. uh, yeah I guess that makes sense. Not the humour part though, you're actually hilarious and they missed out big time." You tried to avoid the point where you'd deemed Stephen Fry sexy in every way he was similar to the man who was laying in your lap, and just hoped he wouldn't bring that up.

"He definitely got the looks side of things though, particularly as General Melchett in Goes Forth, though I am not particularly fond of the facial hair." He screwed up his nose in distaste, you fighting every ounce of your control to not say he looked a bit cute. "And certainly didn't have the waistline that 21 year old Mycroft had."

"Speaking in the third person now, are we? Well, Mycroft, Y/N is comfortable enough in her friendship that Y/N thinks Mycroft can be sexy in his own ways too." You teased, partly embarrassed, but equally just trying any way to improve the man's confidence, even by a little. Mycroft choked a little on his own saliva and had to sit up to regain his own breath. Too far? "Sorry." He shook his head 'no' but didn't speak. In his moments of regaining his composure, Mycroft watched you. Processed in his head what you had said- 'was it a joke?', he couldn't read anything on you that would suggest that, though his eyes were glassy from the choking- watched as you panicked, then subsiding the panic to concern as you made sure he was okay. All these things, he thought, he didn't deserve. He took a deep breath and reached for the television remote, pausing the show and settling back on the other side of the sofa. It had to be done now. Done while his brain was allowing it, before he got attached... before he got attached even more. He couldn't keep pretending it was okay, keep accepting your compliments and your kindness, couldn't allow himself to go any further in his.. attraction?

It was always unspoken between the two of you- your not so subtle hints to Mycroft over the last few years hadn't got unnoticed, Mycroft would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt the same way, though this was perhaps the most open you had been; he would always put it off, try to think of reasons why you shouldn't be more than whatever you are now- most of the time it circles back to work, your busy schedule at the Yard and his unpredictable working hours mostly, saying to himself that it would simply be pointless, that you wouldn't see each other. But he knew that was a lie- you see him as often as you can, even if it's just for an hour on lunch, and everyone knows he would do his best to move empires to have you over for dinner had it been a while, quite literally actually.

Then there was age, you were in your mid-to-late twenties, he in his forties, though that argument also fell flat after you had mentioned your last long term relationship had been with a man your elder, amongst many of your interests in celebrity males that you had mentioned being closer to his age than yours- and, on his behalf, it was usual for a Politician to walk into formal dinners with a younger woman on arm. In the end, it all went back to the real reason Mycroft put everything off, a reason he hated admitting to even himself. Mycroft was scared.

Having been the age he is with no sexual experience, no previous relationships, and not even many friendships, he was terrified he would humiliate himself and you would leave him completely. You were both adults, both clever, you both knew there was always 'something' there, but without you ever acting upon it, Mycroft decided to live his life keeping you as a friend rather than risk not having you at all. He felt guilty enough having you here anyway. He couldn't allow you to keep stroking his hair like that, or letting you sleep in his bed with him, hold him as he snored, when it was for completely other desires in his own mind, not without speaking to you. No, that wouldn't be fair- even if he didn't fully understand everything himself and was still incredibly scared. You needed to know the truth, about everything, and, if there were the slightest chance you'd forgive him, he had decided he couldn't wait any longer, couldn't put it off anymore, he wanted you to carry on doing those things, wanted to continue the nights you would stay in his bed. But Mycroft wanted it to change, he wanted to be able to start the night with a ghost of his hand on your hip, without waiting until you were asleep to bring himself to have that courage, to wake up next to you and not feel the awkward need to move so soon, just to stay a little longer. Christ, Mycroft wanted every cliché in the book with you, and it took him until yesterday to realise how much he wanted that, after nearly losing you. And he needed you to know, even if it risked it all.

"Y/N I-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I took it too far I was just messing about.. Not that I didn't mean it, I wasn't joking about you.. You are very attractive, but it was inappropriate.. I shouldn't have said it.. I just wanted to help.. though I don't think it did, might have made it worse, actually.. Didn't want to say anything and let you find out.. like that.. not that it matters.. because I AM happy JUST being your friend, over the moon, actually.. so I don't want you to think I ruined that... Because I know you don't feel.. like that.. and you're not saying anything which is scaring me a little because you're always talking.. Not that I don't like that.. I love you talking to me, you've got a lovely voice.. and.. and I'm going to shut up again.. sorry.. again.." You rambled, a lot, too much.. far too much. Mycroft tried to process everything, his eyes closing at every word. You were making this so much harder for him, admitting everything like that. Mycroft hunched forward in his position and braced his elbows on his knees, index and middle finger of each hand holding the weight of his head by his temples.

"No just.. Just stop talking for a moment." Mycroft snapped, cutting you off as your mouth opened to speak a little, the small jump back made his gaze soften. "Please." He spoke softer, apologetic. "I can't.. talk about that.. not yet. Not until you know.." You went to speak again but his head tilted, eyes containing a rare glaze of vulnerability, trying to stay in contact with your own but constantly dropping back to his lap- a silent plea to stay quiet, be patient and just give him a moment. And you did. Turning your body completely sideways, you crossed your legs on the sofa, hands resting folded in your lap as you encouraged him to continue with a brief nod of your head. "I fear if I don't tell you of yesterday's happenings in this very moment that I never shall, and that is far too selfish, even of me." He took a deep breath in. "But I just.. need a moment. A few, likely, throughout." You nodded your head again.

From there, Mycroft began to explain everything that had happened, told you of his sister, where she had taken him, Sherlock and John, what she spoke about, what she tried to get them to do. His voice cracked every so often, knuckles whitened as his fists clenches, creases formed in his trousers where he squeezed his hand on them, but you listened to every word and stayed silent- eyes welling with small tears. Mycroft spoke of the screen, told you of the snipers that were out there, targeting Ms Hudson and Molly. Your body stiffened as he added Lestrade to the list, feeling your throat tighten a little at the mere thought of losing Greg. Mycroft pressed on, told you about how Eurus tried to make Sherlock choose between him and John, told you how he'd tried to convince Sherlock to just shoot him, how Sherlock refused and threatened to shoot himself. His voice went breathless at the end of that, the idea of losing his brother so easily still fresh in his mind. You loosened your sitting position and leaned over, taking Mycroft's hand in your own and squeezing. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't." He whispered, trying to fold his hand into a fist to escape your embrace. You didn't let go and offered your other hand on his back in support as you watched a stray tear fall down his cheek. "I said don't!" He shouted, moving from your touch and standing up from the sofa, beginning to pace as his face contorted into more pain, another tear following the path of the last. You sat back, watched him, didn't take the anger to heart. "It was my fault! All of it!" He ran his hands through his hair and tugged, moving them after to wipe the droplets from his cheek.

"Myc it's ok-"

"It isn't okay Y/N! No part of any of this is even remotely close to okay!" He stilled now, posture going back rigid as he looked at you, eyes bloodshot and glassy. He told you of his Birthday present to Eurus- five unsupervised minutes with Moriarty- and started his pacing again. "A man died yesterday because of me. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly. They all almost died yesterday. You almost... you almost died yesterday." His breath hitched again, lip softly quivering at the end of his words. You tensed a little and frowned, confused and urging him to elaborate. "They weren't the only people on the screens, not the only ones with a red dot on their heads, Y/N." Gaze avoiding you now, turned completely to face the wall rather than look at you at all- giving him a chance to compose himself, steadying his voice. "I saw you, you were happy, just dancing and making tea, but at any moment you could have... and it would have been my fault. And I know I should have told you yesterday, it was selfish of me using you the way that I have without letting you know everything. You could have been gone before I could tell you everything, before I could explain how I feel about you, and it all came rushing to me the moment I saw your face on that screen. I’m so sorry, for everything, for ignoring everything, for being the reason you almost-" The last thing Mycroft had expected was the feeling of arms around his waist, the feeling of a head resting between his shoulder blades, soaking the shirt with tears. You sniffed, holding onto him tighter as you cried into his back.

"It's okay Mycroft." You spoke, voice croaking from tears. "They're okay.. I'm okay. And you're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere." The relief Mycroft felt from your words ran through his body as he slumped a little, left hand holding on to where yours joined on his stomach, his right lifting to his eyes where, in a very rare moment, he allowed himself to weep.

***

Neither of you were too sure on how long you stayed like that, Mycroft being held in your arms as he quietly cried into his hand, you into his back, but it was long enough that your feet were beginning to ache and Mycroft had become silent a short while ago. You attempted to loosen your grip but Mycroft quickly grabbed back at your hands, holding them to him again. You changed your tactic and instead circled round until your hands remained together on his back, you now at his front and you gave him one last squeeze before guiding him backwards to the sofa, taking your place next to him but keeping your arms around him.

"I'm sorry." His voice was broken, quieter than usual. You shook your head and fought the urge to cry again.

"Don't." You spoke, sliding a hand down to hold his own that rested on his thigh. "Don't apologise Myc. You didn't do anything on purpose, you were just trying to be a good person.. a good brother. We're both still alive. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly, they're all fine, and I have no doubt that it was partly due to you that they are still okay- whatever the three of you did in there, it worked, and that's all that matters to me." Mycroft shifted, his eyes finding yours once more, scanning, searching, trying to find anything that showed you were lying, that you didn't trust him anymore, but he couldn't find anything.

"But I-" You placed a hand at the back of his neck and leaned forward slightly, your lips meeting his briefly for a few seconds before pulling back. It wasn't desperate, or longing, or out of lust- it was everything Mycroft needed. Everything that let him know that you weren't going anywhere, that you still wanted to be around him, to be with him. He relaxed but didn't speak, his hand beneath yours just turning to allow your fingers to lace together as he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling softly as you felt his own rest atop yours before falling into a comfortable silence.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Dad!AU)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale, a man who didn’t make wise decisions in his teens. Wasting three years of his life in jail, he takes his freedom for another two. Little did he know, a woman he long ago had a thing for, ends up leaving him with a 16-year-old for the holidays. Hazel Rose Drysdale. His daughter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

This takes place after Knives Out. Family will be mentioned, there will be minor spoilers for Knives Out.

Warnings: Bad parenting, swearing, Ransom being an asshole, minor spoilers for Knives Out, angst, mentions of murder/jail, minor mental abuse, mentions of abortion/pregnancy, Mentions of suicide

I do not consent to have my work hosted on any second party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

There’s a Hamilton reference in here and I couldn’t help but throw it in there.

You always thought San Francisco was a horrible place to be on your own for. Having a job there, you’d be an hour late if you lived outside the city. This year had been tough on you. You felt like your rent was going up or that your job was getting lower paychecks. Your head was spinning every day that you could barely answer anyone’s questions. The lack of sleep you get every night, especially having to wake up every day at six. 

You fix yourself a coffee but then end up at a nearby Starbucks to grab one. They always had better coffee for your energy gain. You weren’t really a money maker, you drove a very old red Honda. You have bills coming in through the mail slot that it has you wanting to burn them to ashes. You couldn’t handle enough stress, especially having a 16-year-old daughter.

At that age that’s when you had your only precious little girl, Hazel. You always made sure she never met any boy that could have her end up like you long ago. Being a teen mom wasn’t easy. Even lying to your daughter was something you couldn’t bear to keep from. It was only to protect her.

Hazel never spoke once about who her father was. As a child, she had dolls and those dolls were a family. One mother, one daughter and a father. Hazel made them the happiest dolls in her mind. She never asked anything related to her family’s relations or where they lived.

She was home schooled since, you were too afraid to have her at school and be bullied by boys or girls. It was something you dealt with and you didn’t want that to happen to her. You didn’t have the money for her too. Gas money, bills, dinner and rent were your only priorities. To have a roof over Hazel’s head, to drive her to the library or stores to get new outfits, feed her every morning, afternoon and night. Like you said, it wasn’t easy.

Your parents live up in Oregon for a while now and you would sometimes visit them over the holidays. Their reactions to your pregnancy, it didn’t end well. The few weeks of being pregnant, they were disappointed. The father’s side of the family had been one of the most entitled families in town. You grew up in Massachusetts and when you got pregnant, your parents moved to Oregon after you had Hazel. 

And Hazel’s father abandoned you. Being 17 and 16, you were the one scared while he watched you in disgust and asked to abort your child. That decision was one of the hardest decisions of your life. Either live with the pain of delivering your baby girl or painfully lay on your bed thinking you could’ve had a good life with your daughter.

And you did have a good life whether you struggled to keep her happy. You hope no boy or man could ruin her reputation and lose hope in the world to make someone happy. “Miss L/N.” The dark velvet voice made you lose your trance and your eyes darted over to your boss. Or someone who is your guide for three years. 

Mr. Charles Leyman. His blonde hair was combed to the side, his piercing blue eyes could have any office women get lost in. His suits were always made fine by a professional and his watches always came in different colors. Surely, they were over a thousand dollars. Charles had been your guide since you joined the large business in San Francisco. He was very kind, charming and he always knew personal space. 

He always had a circle around him and it’d smell like his expensive cologne. Out of the cologne you’ve known, this one smelled like Guilty Intense. The Italian lemon, patchouli, amber, mandarin, and orange flower topping aroma was always attracting women. You wondered if he was a mama’s boy just on how much of a gentleman he was.

You saw his side grin creep up to his face, “You must be preoccupied in your own mind palace,” He mentioned towards you. Your hand reaches up to the small strand of hair and you pull it back. “Sorry.” Charles folds his hands in each other and leans on his desk. The man was in his thirties, a couple more years older than you. 

“You know, you don’t always have to apologize for everything you do that is no harm. I just didn’t want you to be stuck in your head, Miss L/N.” Your head lifts up to him. He softly grins, “I wanted to discuss your recent report on the Berkeley College. Something about the Science and Technology Event on October 28th.”

You gently tilted your head, “What about it?” Charles lifted the print of the page and scanned through as if he wasn’t sure himself what the problem was. He clicks his tongue, “You kind of repeated yourself in a couple paragraphs. Even spelling errors. Have you been using-”

You nod, eyes closing slowly out of embarrassment, “Yes, I was. But I think our internet was shut off due to th-”

“That forum doesn’t need the internet to correct your mistakes. It corrects off Wi-Fi.” You sighed softly, turning your gaze away from him and he lowers the paper down to look at you, solemnly. “Look, Miss L/N. I’m not here to criticize you, I’m here to help you. And I know you have a 16-year-old at home and the father’s passing, you-”

“I will say this once and I hope you take it as it is. I’m fine.” Charles leans back a little to your response. Watching you closely to see your hands fidget in your lap. He almost felt like a brother to you, but there were moments where he offered you to dinner and almost walked you over to your car. It was embarrassing to see him and his silver Audi. You were sure he had a Tesla. The invites to his home were always nice. Charles knew your daughter well.

They got along well and never heard a single bad thing from Hazel, saying she had a good time with Charles. Hazel always told you how much fun she had with anything, she walks over to the public library, tells you about a book she read. You know she went to the library when she texted you earlier this morning.

That day, you relaxed at your desk and looked over the recent drafts of your future reports to go on the papers. You feel your phone ring and your hand picks it up from the desk. 

Incoming call from Hazel-Bear

You picked up the phone and held it up to your ear, “Hey, baby.” 

“Hey, mom. Can you pick me up?” You look over to the wall with the clock, showing the time. You were only a few ways away. “Can you wait for 10 minutes?” You hear Hazel hum in a yes, “Yeah. I’m just sitting in the library.” You began to close your computer and logged off. “Okay, honey. I’ll text you when I get there.” You started to put your papers in your bag and slipped in your laptop. “Okay. Bye, mom! Love you.”

“Love you, too. I’ll see you.”

Hazel was always the type to listen. As a child, she wasn’t spoiled as much because of what you had as a teenager. You were glad she didn’t end up like her father. She was sweet. Her smiles always made everyone welcomed in her space. Gatherings and meetings, your co-workers and friends always chatted about your daughter. Hazel would always keep a conversation lit up and she’d make every interesting comment. Being a book-worm, she would go on and on like a Stephen King book or become William Shakespeare and her words were strong.

You’d do anything for her, no matter what. Picking her up at the library was always a doing for you. The distance wasn’t long but you enjoyed picking her up there. 

You pull up to the front of the library and see your daughter come up to the side of the door and jump in. “Thank you, mom,” She says, you greet her with a smile and watch her hold a book in her hand. “You’re welcome, honey. Did you return Hesse?”

Hazel nods and looks over to you, “Yeah. And I found this interesting book called Vulcan’s Den. Everyone’s been reading the author’s books since he died 5 years ago.” You glance over to her, seeing her eyes read the story in her hands. She looked like she was through 10 chapters already. “Hm. Who’s the author?”

“Harlan Thrombey.”

Your face froze into a fit of shock. Your fists twist around the wheel and Hazel spoke the whole time but then realized you had been temporarily deaf. “...he committed suicide.”

You look up to see the red light and you step on the break causing the car to jerk forward a bit. Your eyes lower to your hands on the wheel, “What, sweetheart?” Hazel turns and gently closes her book. “I said, he was found dead in his home. Committed suicide.” Hazel turns back to her book with a grin. “He was a really good author. I’ve been thinking about writing stories, too! He always knew how to make crime and mysteries such a good genre.”

Your eyes stare in front like you just ran over someone but all you could do is nod and say, “That’s... tragic, sweetheart. I’m sure he would’ve loved to hear your stories.” And your way back home was silent for the next 10 minutes. The only name coming to flood your mind like a banshee. Screaming internally, your  heart felt like pin needles were jabbing into it and your breathing somewhat became more quite. As if you died in your seat but your mind kept going on.

Harlan Thrombey.

A man who writes like he’s running out of time.

That night, you had just made dinner and sat in the small living room watching television as usual. Glancing over to the kitchen sharing with the dining room, you see Hazel at the table, eating and reading the book she got today. You  couldn’t help but grin at her read the book with such concentration. 

You turn your gaze over to the TV but you didn’t pay mind to it. The sounds of your neighbors playing music or their dogs barking above you. Hazel closes her book and sighs softly. “Oh mom?” She asks, you turn to her, raising your brows up. “Hm?”

Her hand rests on the table as she turns her body towards you, “There’s this musical coming into Oakland in December and I was thinking we can get tickets? I don’t know if you’re familiar with Hamilton.” You tried not to give Hazel the look of ‘I’m sorry’, you just stared at her blankly, trying to sound less of a bad mother. Sure the tickets were a bit over 50 dollars. You couldn’t even nod as you sighed, “We’ll see, sweetheart.”

Hazel turns away and picks up her book to head over to her room and you tried not to think about Harlan.

Yes, he was familiar to you. A famous author who published hundreds of books based on mysteries and murder. You weren’t there when Harlan was killed. But you knew someone at work who actually wrote the report about him. Police finding out about not only his suicide but his oldest grandchild was in jail for murder and arson. 

You didn’t know much but you’ve read the report so many times. Harlan was a good author and you were happy to see your daughter read a book from someone who was related to her. Hazel never knew much about her father’s side of the family. You tried your best to keep her silent about it and she never asked once. 

You remembered you had things that could make her brighten up. You stood up from your spot and made your way into your bedroom. You walked over to your closet and turned on the light to look up. Seeing a dark box written ‘Books’ on the side, you reach up and slid it off the edge and into your arms. You placed it on your bed and reached in for the book collection with Harlan’s name printed on every book.

You opened one and saw a small message written in cursive with his name at the end. Harlan always gave you the first copy and made sure you gotten them. His books made it into films and he gave you the movies and that’s where these old films laid in. Hazel will like to watch these over and over. “Ro, baby,” You call out.

You hear her call back and made her search around the apartment and met you in the bedroom. You turned and sat on the edge of your bed. “You love books, right?” You asked. Hazel nods questionably, “Yeah?” You placed your hand on the edge of the box, “These are special and old. It might not sound real to you but these are all first copies.” Hazel makes her way over and slightly gasps.

“They’re... Harlan books?” She pulls them out and opens the first book, “And he signed them!” Hazel looks up to you with a smile. Shockingly, it made you smile, “I want you to take care of these really good for me, okay? You can take them to your room and read them.” Hazel slams herself into your chest and hugs you tightly.

“Thank you, mom.”

You wrap your arms around her and held her there, placing a kiss on her head. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” Hazel wasted no time into bringing the books into her room. Her eyes scanned every letter written in the books by the author, himself. He kept calling you, sweetheart. Hazel wondered if you knew him really well. You collected every book from him and they were all first copies. The films were never used and they were amazing. Hazel began to pull each of them out on her bed and reached for the last book that was wider than the others.

Hazel lifts it up and sees the cute designs.

Memories.

Hazel turns around to sit on her bed as her fingers graze over the small stickers that were worn out. She read your name on the front of the cover and flipped the page over. Photos of her grandparents, your mom and dad taking you out to the lake. A couple pictures of you reading books. Your 15th birthday photo was very old and you looked just like her. Hazel flipped the next pages and the photos gotten bigger. And the months grew further on.

Pictures of you in a dress. Your junior year in a blue silk dress, your hair was perfectly done with a bit of makeup. Hazel had not seen you so beautiful with makeup on. With a small grin, she flips the page and there’s a photo of you again at what looked like your prom dance. Her grin slowly freezes when she sees someone stand next to you with a small grin.

His hair was slick back, his tuxedo was a matching blue and his bow tie was black. His jaw was sharp enough to cut paper. Hazel knew you had her at the age of 16, the date takes back a few months before your birthday. Hazel had to think he was someone you were with. A picture of carved initials with a heart around them.

The ‘R’ was carved along with your initial and in between your initials was a plus sign. Hazel grew more into the photos and kept going over the pages. The next photos never had the boy in the photos any more. But you had your hands on your stomach with a grin. You had to be about one month pregnant. But the boy you had in the other photos never appeared in these.

Then you happened to be in Oregon. You said you were born in Oregon and lived there since you were born. Where were you before? Hazel flipped a couple more and her photos came into view. Her baby pictures were old and very nicely situated. Hazel grins softly at the photos and opened the last page to have things slip out.

Hazel catches the piece of paper and small patch from a high school logo. She looks over the patch that must’ve came from a private school. She flipped it over and read it.

Hugh D. MA, Boston

Hazel furrowed her brows at the name. Hugh must’ve been a different boy you dated. She reaches for the paper that was partially ripped in half and placed the two together like a puzzle.

Ransom (xxx) xxx - xxxx

She read the letter and saw the added heart to his name. Ransom. Who was Ransom and Hugh? 

“Honey! Did you want to finish your show?” You called out to Hazel. The teenager puts the things back in the book and puts it back in the box. “Uh... Yeah! I’m coming!” And she covered it up with the others and made her way out of her room into the living room. Hazel couldn’t help but think about who her dad was. 

The next morning, you made breakfast and Hazel began to eat what you’ve made. Bacon, eggs and some toast. You poured her some juice and began to clean up your mess on the counter and placed a couple dishes into the dish washer. The sounds of Hazel’s utensils scrapping against the plate, she glanced up at you and saw your calm content face doing normal chores. 

“Who’s my dad?” 

You drop a plate from your hands and it falls into the sink once again and shatters in pieces causing Hazel to painfully watch and you turn to her. It was bound to happen, but you didn’t expect it this soon. You did you?  “What?” 

Hazel nibbles on her bottom lip and gently puts her fork down and pulls her hand to her lap. “I... I want to know who dad was.” You cross your arms and reached to grab your grin and rub the sides. Hazel lowers her gaze, “I saw two names in this photo book. Hugh and Ransom. I want to know who they were. And did my father actually die in an accident?”

It was like your worst fear and the countless nightmares were coming to life. Hazel sat there for answers now. You needed to give her small details in order for her to freak out less. You never wanted to upset Hazel. Just like you didn’t want to upset her father when you first told him the news.

“But I knew Harlan very well. I met him as a kid and he gave almost every first copy of his books. I knew him because I met his oldest grandson at the age of 15. His name was Hugh.”

“So is Ransom my biological father? And Hugh was just-” Hazel noticed the shook of your head, your lips pierced together as if you tried not to spill everything towards her. The fear to see her get scared of the truth. “Those names are from one person, sweetheart. He was complicated between his first and middle name. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. He was just a year older than me.” Hazel turns her head and whispers.

“Hazel Rose Drysdale.”

You hum in response, furrowing your brows. “Is he alive?” She asked, you instantly stand up, pushing yourself off the counter, “Honey, please. Finish eating.”

“I want to know, mom. Don’t I get to say anything about him-?”

“Hazel, please. Eat your food, I’m not in the mood now to discuss your family relations-”

“You’ve lied and I need to know what else you’ve been keeping away from me.” You turn away from her and finished off the last Tupperware and sighed. It was gonna take a while for her to lose the thoughts to go away and have her continue on something else. “Mom-”

“Hazel, please! I can’t discuss this now!” You snapped. Hazel’s fingers curl into her palm and she fidgeted her thumb under them. Her feet kick herself back and she stood up. “Thank you for dinner,” she muttered, leaving her plate on the table while making her way into her room. You sighed out of regret and turned to the window. 

You couldn’t tell if Hazel was crying or playing music to calm herself. You never outburst on her like that. Never in your days you’d shout at her. The mention of her father had to come out sooner or later. The truth never made its way over to you. Hazel wasn’t ready to find out. You weren’t ready to give it to her. Maybe never.

You just cleaned up her plate and put the leftovers in the fridge in case she wanted more since she barely ate thinking too much about her father. 

You got a shower going and left the house, leaving a note on Hazel’s door. Your drive to work was a bit long but you managed to get there in time. Taking the elevator to the office floor, you set up your stuff on your desk and began to go through your recent reports.

Checking every wording and errors you can spot.

A soft knock hits your wall and a woman peaks over. Your office neighbor. “Morning, babes. How you doing?” 

You let out a soft sigh, “Morning, Ciara.” Your fingers worked against the keyboard, writing away till someone takes your chair and spun you around. The red-head lightly glares in your eyes. You turn your head, “What?” You asked, Ciara squints her eyes. “What happened?” She replies with the same questionable tone. All you did was shake your head and Ciara pouts at you. She was never going to let you get away that easily.

.

“She knows about her dad?”

You nod towards her, raising your mug up to your lips to regain your energy. Ciara pinches her chin to be in a thinking stance and her brows bounce up, “Well, shit.” You look over to her and she lightly laughs. “What am I going to do?” You ask.

Ciara thinks, “Well... I don’t think you can keep her away forever.”

“What do you mean?” You ask once more, Ciara tilts her head at you and that made your heart drop. “No. No! I cannot do that-” Ciara drops her arms from the crossing and sighs. “Y/N, you really messed up the pooch here. If my mom lied about my dad being dead, I would’ve wanted to meet him.”

“You don’t know what he’s like,” You said, “He’s arrogant. A complete asshole-”

“Okay! Okay... but your daughter would have to at least get to know him. Give her a few days. Weeks. Who knows? Maybe he’ll come around. Hazel needs a father figure in her life and every kid would want to have their parents together.” You shook your head softly and raised your glass back up to your lips and took a large sip. 

You wouldn’t trust Ransom being with Hazel for who knows how long. You couldn’t trust yourself to stay a day there. You wouldn’t last a minute to be in the same room with him. But you thought about Hazel. You felt more selfish for yourself than for Hazel. You had your dad but she never got to see him once. You kept him under a rock that Hazel couldn’t lift up and now she found his photo. 

She found you and him together. 

There can’t be a way to change her mind. Unless she stays with him. The holidays were coming up. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. Maybe you’d give her that much time with him. Ciara’s face leans down to look at you in the eye. For some kind of response for her to agree or to push. 

Your mug lowers from your face and you two just shared looks.

.

That day, you made your way back home after your work was finished. You felt like you swallowed bees. You didn’t bother to text Hazel you were coming home or that you were going to talk to her. You just needed to be home right away to talk to her. To tell her everything.

You were afraid to give her everything about him. You needed to take it slow every now and then. 

The moment you stepped into your apartment you dropped your bag and opened Hazel’s bedroom, seeing her on her bed with her laptop on her lap. “Hey, mom,” She says.

You grin softly, “Can I talk to you?” Hazel did not refuse and she watches you sit on the edge of her bed. Hazel knew this certain stance of a parent. “I know this morning was not my morning. But... I want you to know that I love you very much. And that I did not mean to yell. But I am willing... to tell you about your father. He didn’t die in an accident.”

Hazel closes her laptop and gently pulls her knees to cross in front of her. You did it yourself, crossing your leg over the other. “What do you want to know?” You ask in a calm voice. Hazel lowers her gaze to think about the millions of questions already scrambling through her head like a roller coaster. 

She finally caught one, “What was dad like?” She says, shyly. This was the question you didn’t want to hear from her. But you had to anyway, “He was... difficult to work with in school. His family was rich and so anything he could do wouldn’t be a problem. He was kind in some moments, I remembered his father always fought with him.”

“Did he leave when... you were?”

Hazel noticed your soft nod and your head lowers, picking at your nails like you were a little girl again. How much you blushed when he came toward you like you saw him for the first time. The way he pulled a strand behind your ear. He never complimented much nor did he say ‘I love you’. 

“We were around your age when I found out about you. After I told him, his parents flipped. And after a few days, he yelled and left. That’s when I moved to Oregon with your grandma and grandpa.” You reach for her hair and pushed it behind her ear. Just like he did to you.

Your hand rests on the sheets and you softly sighed. Regretting these words slip out like a load of cash falling out of an ATM. “If I trust you... to call me everyday, every night. I might consider something.”

“Consider what?” She asks, you don’t respond to her and that made her eyes slowly go wide. “To visit him?” You take her hand and gently grasped it. “I am sending you to Boston.”

“You can’t come?” She asked. You shook your head and reached up for her cheek. “I think it’s best to stay here and keep going to work. I have a project and I hate to leave you, but I really want you to call me. I love hearing your voice.” Hazel grins and nods. “Thank you, mom.”

You smile at her and pulled her to your chest. Placing a kiss on her forehead, you trusted her more now. The least of trust was from her father. The most scary thing to do was to call him. Hazel pulls away and she slips something into your hand. “What’s this?” You asked.

You opened the small note and read the similar number with his name written nicely in. “In case you didn’t have it.” You held the paper tight in your hand and turned to Hazel one last time before standing up. “Dinner will be ready in a couple minutes.” Hazel nods and went back to her own things as you left her room and went into yours.

You pulled out your phone and stared at the keypad. His number sitting on the paper, urging you to not call. 16 years apart, you never thought it’d come to this day. His daughter to stay with him for a while. What if he was still in jail? He could be with another woman and it’d be too late for Hazel to be with a man who’s married to another woman.

It’d be awkward.

Your thumb automatically pushes the numbers and your thumb hovers over the call button. Your breath began to get caught in your throat. Your eyes began to water and your fingers shook. You clicked the button and heard it buzz in your ear.

The ring went off.

You waited.

It rung again.

You swallowed hard. “Hello?”

“Hugh.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s me.”

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

There was a long pause. 

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[valiantarcher]

This is rather delayed, but I’ve got some thoughts on Waking Rose after my last reread. Below the cut for spoilers and extreme length.

Timeline/Continuity:

Rose says it’s been almost three years since she met Fish - but if she’s 19 now, it should only be two years (it also makes more sense for Blanche and Bear to get married a year after Black as Night rather than two years after).

Back to Steve/Steven Foster (instead of Stephen).

Per Rose, Fish and Bear slept on the Fosters' couch.

Ben was 13 when his mom died, 16 when Father Raymond died.

Little Things Short Comments (mostly):

I love Bear inviting Rose to dance with him and Blanche on the last song - remembering that it started with the three of them.

Kateri is an observant and good friend - I too would probably tell Rose Fish wasn't worth it under the circumstances.

"Your particular brand of exuberance"

Ach, but Rose wants Fish to be happy and he tells her he's "happy enough" (...true for very low values of "happiness") but follows it up with "God's going to take care of me," which IS true.

Rose’s dramatic “I shall have twenty cats...” poetry.

Fish trying to make himself look like someone who doesn't folk dance. 

"What you see in front of you is fighting."

Rose thinking Fish's vocation is to be at the right place at the right time; Ben would probably argue that, but there is an extent it’s true.

We get the charges against Edward (I think this is the first time we learn his first name) Freet: (2) Attempted murder - Rose and Bear, (2) Assault - Rose and Fish (or Bear - it’s unclear), (3) Kidnapping - Fish, Rose, and I’m not sure if the third charge is for his involvement in Blanche’s kidnapping?

“Not that it was going to make much of a difference in the world, but it was good to attempt to bring some justice to this literary question.”

Fish dealing with the nuns is...I’m not sure humourous is the right word for it, but I appreciate his internal “they’re crazy, Father Raymond warned me about Catholics like them” dialogue.

“He had known too many manipulative women to be convinced by tears.” Well, Elaine is the first one to come to mind - no idea who the others are.

I know we get the hints towards the Rumpelstiltskin retelling with Fish (I think his role is the servant?), but I’m torn between going a) YES, GIVE ME MORE and b) no way I want to see Fish suffer even more, as I know he will in that story.

Alex assigning everyone who gets in trouble to read Thomas Aquinas outside.

I love that Kateri and Ben become really good friends - she asks after his health and knows when he’s cooking a Scheme and he keeps an eye out for her and worries after her and bails her out of jail.

“You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t want to be explaining to some bereaved parent or college official why their charge is dead, maimed, or serving a prison sentence because of something I set up.” “Since when were you expendable? Says the older brother who nearly went out of his mind scouring the streets of New York for you when you were kidnapped for three days.”

The idea of a fatal/fundamental doubt is echoed when Ben doubts that Dr. Murray is guilty for just a second.

Ben warning Alex that he’s now an arrested suspect and that by driving off with him in the car, he could be liable for part of his crime, and Alex just being like, “Well, I guessed that much - where do you want to go?”

Ben telling Alex about the assault and looking him in the face to do it - something he has struggled with so much - and Alex just taking it calmly and with sorrow.

Ben being like, “You don’t understand how bad this is,” and Alex being like, “Maybe not, but I understand enough, and it doesn’t change anything.”

Also, Alex basically blessing Ben as he goes off to the barn? Ach.

Ben’s birthday is in April, and so is little Ben’s!

Longer Comments (In no particular order or level of clarity - apologies):

Fish shows his propensity for law and justice while questioning Donna (even though or maybe especially because he’s angry and loses his temper). And then Kateri shows her heart by her interactions with Donna. I really like the conversation she and Ben have after they leave and when they clear the air, including the fact Kateri has had a grudge against Fish for ages.

I appreciate Alex more and more this reread. In addition to the above comments, he’s the one who suggest and inducts Rose and Nanette into being Ladies of Sacra Cor (and basically tells them it means they’ll start training too), he’s the one who remembers to call Ben Ben, and he’s the one who’s training the other guys and deciding when they’re ready to be knighted.  ALSO, he and Ben challenge each other - he tells Ben that the world doesn’t stop being evil just because you stop fighting, and Ben is the one who tells Alex to put his beliefs into action and back Kateri up.

The whole scene where Alex, Kateri, and Ben are wandering around Graceton looking for Paul and how Ben says that for being so tall, Paul sure got himself pretty lost, and they all nod BECAUSE THEY’RE ALL AVERAGE TO SHORT HEIGHT. And then how mad Alex is at Paul for going off on an interesting diversion and making him late for the proctor meeting and assigns him Thomas Aquinas to read.

“Blanche, you are a lifesaver,” Ben says when she tells him about Nurse Johnson. And, though he doesn’t know it, it ends up being quite literal as that starts the chain of believing Dr. Prosser is behind everything, leading to Ben doing his sting operation, and ultimately leading towards him realising Rose isn’t actually comatose and thus her being woken and saved.

Okay, so in the car going to see Rose, and they’re talking about Christmas plans and Fish says he’s staying there, so James asks where Fish’s parents are from. Fish says New York, but they’re both dead. James says, “Oh, sorry,” AS YOU DO and Fish replies back, “That’s okay. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.” AND YOU KNOW THAT BOTH YOUR PARENTS DIED FROM MEDICAL ISSUES, BEN - IT’S VERY MUCH NOT JAMES’ FAULT.

Also, when Donna does go and tell Fish about following Rose to the barn - Fish very much doesn’t trust her, but he does thank her and even goes with her to talk to the police (again, legal/experiential side coming through). (Also, “Fish, being Fish, didn’t want to answer the question directly.” But he then gives her an answer by reasoning out that she has nothing to gain from telling him.)

On a tangent, the entire idea of Fish being the protector and having never wanted the Briers (or any other bystanders) involved in his and Bear’s work is why it’s so important that Rose gets into trouble all on her own: it means that Fish doesn’t feel guilty (...well, besides his stray thoughts which he thankfully gets under control pretty quickly) about causing Rose’s coma or obligated to look into what she was investigating for any reason beyond his own desire and sense of justice. And it takes a while, but that’s why it’s so important he does decide to do the undercover sting and try to bring justice to this - not as an obligation but as an active choice to try to fight the evil in the world.

Dinner at Fish’s apartment after the sit-in is great. Paul is not at all chill about being a hero in Kateri’s story and then there’s the stare-down between Alex and Kateri with loaded subcontext (how awkward might that have been for Donna, Paul, and Ben?).

Fish tells Donna that he’s convinced by actions, not words. Which makes sense, but it’s also interesting to see how that works out - because when she comes clean and tells him she lied, he believes her but he doesn’t trust her. And he accepts her into the group because Kateri trusts her and he trusts Kateri, but then he decides to trust her with the makeover for the sting operation. And, after that, he trusts her to take him to the barn and then - most of all - to get the antidote back to Rose in time.

Fish tries to claim he’s expendable and Bear is having none of that. Also, Bear puts his foot down about Fish working solo - either he has backup, or he doesn’t do this. And so Fish asks Alex to be his getaway driver.

And then Kateri and Paul and James and Leroy and DONNA! They all came even though Alex explained the situation and told them not to, and Ben is mad and explains how much legal trouble they’ll be in, but they don’t care. As Kateri says, “We’re not letting you do this alone.”

Alex organising the troops and planning it all out so that there’s the best chance for Rose to survive and for Ben to make it through. And Kateri being indignant about being left out of the lineup until Alex tells her her job is to sacrifice herself to save Paul and Rose, if the staff get through him and Leroy and James. Even if Paul won’t let that actually happen.

DONNA. I had forgotten that Donna not only played a crucial part in saving Rose’s life by getting through the staff/police barricade but also in saving Ben’s by sending Bear to the barn to help him. And I’m just so happy that she was redeemed and healed and she fully joined in - she could have easily said no or just done the bare minimum, but she waded in just the same as the rest of the group. Although it’s not explicitly stated, I fully expect her and Kateri to have been full-fledged ladies of Sacra Cor by their last appearance if they weren’t already. And she tells Ben she’s praying for him and gives him a kiss on the cheek, and he tells her thank you, truly and sincerely, and there’s peace!!

And Kateri also!! She and Ben have become full friends now, and he gets a kiss on the cheek from her and there’s half an idea that he’s kind of smug and pleased about her and Alex.

I wonder if Blanche had a premonition about Ben at all? Since she has them (or references them) multiple times in the previous books, it would make sense (and also help explain why she sent Bear off after him so soon after baby Ben’s birth - granted, she probably knew there was a sting operation, if not details), but there’s no comment about it at all.

I still would have liked a reunion between Rose and her family (beyond just a scene with her and Jean - though, I guess we got to see her and Bear’s meeting again, but it was pretty distracted, of course), even if it wasn’t strictly necessary for the story.

[carewyncromwell]

*sings* Cinderella...you’re as lovely as your name, Cinderella~...

Okay, some quick notes before we start. Despite the beauty of their work, painters’ palettes were actually rather limited on pigments during the Renaissance, only having three pigments more than artists did during the Middle Ages. The Moly is a magical plant that appears in Homer’s The Odyssey. Hermes gives it to Odysseus as a charm to protect him from Circe’s spells. It’s been most commonly compared to the snowdrop flower by scholars. It also is referenced in the canon Potterverse as a powerful herb that can counter enchantments.

The Willow Song appears as a motif at the end of William Shakespeare’s Othello, though it was written at least thirty years earlier. In Othello, Desdemona sings a few stanzas of it in response to her husband’s growing distance and madness -- to the audience watching the play in Shakespeare’s day, which would already know the song, its inclusion foreshadows Othello and Desdemona’s tragic ending. “No One is Alone” is from Stephen Sondheim’s well-regarded musical Into the Woods, which features Cinderella as a semi-major character -- the song is actually even partially sung by Cinderella in the show!

I edited the art for this section, as you can tell. Badeea’s painting is a modified photograph of the Chateau de Chambord in France, overlaid on top of my own drawing. (Thanks, Lunapic!) This is also my very first time drawing Badeea!! GOD, is she pretty!! I think her eyes are my favorite of all the HPHM cast.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When Carewyn followed up with Andre the next morning, he was quite disappointed when he saw Carewyn wasn’t wearing the new shoes he’d made for her with her uniform. He honestly hadn’t even considered that they wouldn’t be comfortable for walking in -- and honestly, Carewyn could sort of understand why. Andre had never been able to leave the palace grounds, so there no doubt were a lot of practical things he’d just never considered...such as how very flashy royal fashion was, compared to that of the common man. He was pleased with the feedback Carewyn “passed along from her cousins” for him, though -- completely unaware of the fact that all three comments were really opinions that Carewyn herself had had about the dress.

“Hmm...that is a good point,” said Andre, his hand resting on his chin. “Red is a beautiful color...but a deep blue would not only bring out your eyes, but it would also perfectly contrast your ginger hair, since blue and orange are on opposite sides of the color wheel...”

His face burst into a bright white smile. “Your cousin Iris really has an eye for colors.”

Carewyn successfully fought back a groan, even as her eyes drifted up off toward the top corner of the room.

“...Well, she has taken up embroidery as a hobby. I suppose when one spends a lot of time doing samplers, one could develop an eye for colors.”

And also create a lot of initialed handkerchiefs to conveniently drop in front of noblemen so they pick it up and return it to you.

Andre, however, reacted with some interest. “Is that so? Hmm...well, maybe when I’m working on your new pair of shoes, I could invite her over for tea so she can give me her second opinion before I give them to you.”

Carewyn had never disliked a thought more in her life that Iris having a say in what she wore -- but knowing that she shouldn’t be the one to sabotage Iris, especially when her cousin would no doubt be able to do it well enough on her own, she put on her best smile.

“...I’m sure Iris would enjoy that very much.”

Sure enough, within a week, Iris had been invited to the palace for tea with the Prince. Carewyn could only imagine how thrilled Iris, her aunt Claire, and Charles were. As for Carewyn herself, she knew it was now time to do as Charles said and stay out of Iris’s way...and so when Iris arrived, she made sure to clean the rooms in her wing of the palace in a different order and not sing so that Andre wouldn’t be able to “check in” on her with Iris in tow. She didn’t think she could stand it if Iris got to look down at her polishing the palace floors.

Her lack of singing, however, did catch Badeea’s attention. When Carewyn collided with the court painter in the hallway, she expressed some concern.

“I missed your accompaniment, while I was painting,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

Carewyn felt guilty as she leaned her broom against the wall for a moment. “Oh...yes, Badeea, I’m fine. I merely...well, my cousin Iris is spending time with the Prince today, so I thought to...well, not draw focus.”

Badeea nodded in understanding. “Mm, yes...some things are meant to be background details, while others are meant to catch the eye straight away.”

Carewyn and Badeea caught the sound of Iris’s twittering, bird-like laughter echoing down the hall toward them. Not wanting to be seen when or if Iris and Andre came out into the hall themselves, Carewyn quickly picked up her broom and went around the corner -- Badeea adjusted her easel under her arm and followed.

“Say, Carewyn,” said the court painter thoughtfully, “why don’t you dress up in that nice yellow and green dress you have and come to the market with me?”

Carewyn blinked.

“I need to pick up some more carbon black and indigo for this painting I’m working on for Andre, but the man who sells those paints loves to price gauge. If you were dressed up all fancy and you slid in a reference to your family, though, he might be less likely to try to rip you off,” Badeea added with a tiny, coy smile.

Carewyn frowned, feeling a bit unsure. “I don’t know, Badeea -- I still have a lot of work to do...”

“You have the whole rest of the day to finish,” Badeea reminded her. “It would only take maybe an hour or two. And it would get you out of the palace while your cousin’s here.”

Carewyn considered the matter. Truthfully she’d been hoping to finish her work quickly so she could stow away back to the library and scan more troop deployment records...but she really did hate the thought of bumping into Andre and Iris, not just because of how much Iris would hate Carewyn getting any attention and therefore delight in tormenting her in front of the Prince in order to puff herself up, but because she didn’t want to provoke Charles’s ire unnecessarily.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll go change.”

Not long later, Carewyn had put on her mother’s old dress, pinned her hair up, and joined Badeea by the front gates, and the two headed into town on foot. The sky was still rather gray -- it had been raining and thundering for the last couple of days, and there was still a lot of mud in places. Carewyn was glad she was wearing her worn brown shoes under her gown rather than the pretty heels Andre had made for her -- particularly since nobody would likely be looking at her feet.

The shopkeeper in question was indeed a bit intimidated when Carewyn offhandedly referred to “her grandfather, Charles Cromwell” -- and soon enough, Badeea had been able to skip most of the haggling she would’ve normally had to make just to get her paints at a decent price. They left the shopkeeper’s stall, several jars of paint in hand.

As fate would have it, as they walked at the market, someone else was also shopping, and at the sight of the familiar dress and mane of ginger hair, he ran up to meet them.

“Carewyn!”

Carewyn and Badeea both looked up, to see Orion striding up to them. He once again wore his slightly-too-clean, but modest white shirt, olive breeches, and boots, and he was carried a basket full of henbane.

Carewyn’s red lips spread into a smile. “Orion...hello.”

Orion brought a hand up to his chest and offered her a short bow.

“It seems the stars favor us after all, my lady,” he said, the corners of his own lips kissed with traces of a wry smile.

Carewyn shot a quick glance at his basket and quirked an eyebrow.

“Purchasing some more incense?” she asked pointedly.

Orion’s black eyes sparkled. “I’m afraid we’ve already used up what I bought previously. Fortunately the gentleman from last time remembered my face and didn’t give me too much grief.”

“That’s fortunate.”

Carewyn glanced at Badeea to Orion and back.

“Orion, this is Badeea Ali -- she’s the Crown’s court painter. Badeea...this is Orion Freeman. He helped me retrieve my horse the other day.”

Badeea’s dark brown eyes were very bright. “Ah, yes -- KC had said that you were thrown off your horse. Thank you for helping Carewyn, sir,” she added to Orion.

“It was my pleasure,” said Orion. “What’s the subject of your next piece, if I may ask?”

“A foreboding sky and a distorted reflection,” Badeea replied.

Orion looked intrigued. “That would explain such dark shades. Who commissioned the piece?”

“The Prince,” said Badeea. “But his request was just of a view of the entire palace, from a distance -- I was simply inspired by the rainstorm that passed through a few days ago, and how the turrets of the palace looked reflected in the castle moat.” 

“I wonder how the castle of Royaume would see itself, if it had eyes,” said Orion levelly. “Would it see its beauty, or would it be the type to be critical of its flaws?”

“Hm...or would it see the beauty of its flaws?” asked Badeea.

“True,” granted Orion. “Flaws make us more human -- would that make something more beautiful, by serving as contrast to our strengths?”

“Flaws aren’t something you should simply have to accept,” said Carewyn demurely, her arms crossed. “One should strive to be better than one already is. Even if one is only human, that doesn’t mean they can’t work to be something better.”

Orion turned to her, interested. “And what would be better than being oneself, my lady?”

“Being a better version of oneself, of course,” Carewyn said, sounding matter-of-fact. “One can always be kinder, braver, stronger...more cunning, more passionate. One can always learn more, and do more, and be more.”

“Yes...but it seems like those could be crippling expectations to hold over yourself, to never be enough,” said Orion, and although his expression was very inscrutable, his lips twitched with something of a frown.

“Perfectionism is a disease that affects every artist sooner or later,” said Badeea sympathetically.

Her dark eyes flitted from Orion to Carewyn thoughtfully.

“I must be getting back to work on my painting...would you like to join us at the opposite bank, Mr. Freeman? I would be happy for some feedback on my work, before I present it to his Highness.”

Orion glanced at Carewyn for her approval -- she offered a small smile, and his lips turned up in a full smile of his own.

“I would be honored.”

So the three set about finding a less muddy spot by the castle moat, across from the palace. They found one right by a beautiful willow tree, where Carewyn very carefully lowered herself onto the grass. Badeea fetched her easel and chair, setting it up so that she had a good view of the castle. Orion looked over her incomplete work appreciatively.

“It looks like it could breathe, were it a living thing.”

“Thank you,” said Badeea. “Now then, I’ll need to concentrate while mapping out the sky, so no initiating conversation, please. These paints stay on fabric just as well as my canvas, so they won’t easily wash out. I would appreciate some accompaniment, though, Carewyn.”

Orion glanced at Carewyn curiously. Carewyn avoided his eye.

“Badeea, I don’t think -- ”

“Ah, ah,” said Badeea, holding up a gloved finger quickly, “no conversation. Accompaniment or nothing, please.”

She then set about mixing certain shades and color spotting sections of canvas.

Carewyn frowned. It was one thing to be singing while she was working herself, to pass the time, but Orion’s focus was still largely on her, and it felt weird. Still, she thought to herself, it wasn’t like she was bashful about singing in front of others, exactly -- she knew her voice was more than serviceable. There was really no harm in it. So, glancing up at the willow tree above her head, Carewyn rested her hands in the grass, leaned back, and sang.

“The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree --

Sing willow, willow, willow...willow...

Her hand in her bosom, her head on her knee --

Oh willow, willow, willow...willow...

She sighed in her singing and made a great moan --

Sing willow, willow, willow...willow...

‘I’m dead to all pleasure -- my true love is gone --

Oh willow, willow, willow...shall be my garland...’”

Carewyn felt Orion’s dark eyes on her at the start. Before long, though, his eyes had fluttered closed, and he sat in perfect silence. As he listened, his shoulders loosened and his expression seemed to clear of all tension or pretense, like a child peacefully falling off to sleep. Badeea painted and shaded to the sound of Carewyn’s low, melancholy singing, adding white highlights to the dark gray and black shadows to create a cloudy sky with sunlight poking through.

When Carewyn was finished with the song, Orion slowly opened his eyes, meeting her gaze again at last. His eyes were oddly hesitant, almost shy.

“Y -- ”

He hesitated. Then, his black eyes softening handsomely, he closed his mouth, and it slowly spread into a smile gentler and warmer than Carewyn had ever seen before. He clearly approved.

Carewyn smiled in return and inclined her head in a silent “thank you.”

Carewyn sang some more songs until Badeea had finally finished and Orion and the two women had to part ways so that Badeea and Carewyn could pack up the easel and finished painting and bring them inside.

The following morning, Carewyn was surprised by KC pulling her aside to hand her a packet of what looked like handwritten sheet music.

“Your friend Orion stopped by a little while ago to give this to you,” she explained.

Carewyn was taken aback.

“I reckon he must’ve hopped over the wall,” said KC, unable to fight back a laugh. “I caught him strolling through the southwest gardens. I told him I’d bring it up to you, so that he wouldn’t get himself in trouble.”

Stunned, Carewyn looked down at the sheet music, shifting the pages so she could scan each line. Her blue eyes softened, growing deeper and darker with emotion, as she read the words and notes.

“...This...this is beautiful,” she whispered. She looked up at KC, unable to fully keep the awe from her face. “...You don’t think he wrote this?”

KC shook her head. “No, he said it was a song he learned when he was young, and that he tracked down the sheet music for you since he didn’t think he’d be able to properly sing it for you. I’ve never heard it either, though.”

Carewyn spent her meal times and about an hour before bed that night perusing the sheet music so she could learn the song. The following day, she felt confident enough to sing some of it while she started about cleaning the Queen’s Chambers.

“Mother isn’t here now...who knows what she’d say?

Nothing’s quite so clear now...feel you’ve lost your way?

You decide alone...but no one is alone.

You move just a finger, say the slightest word --

Something’s bound to linger...be heard...

No one acts alone...careful -- no one is alone...

People make mistakes -- fathers, mothers --

People make mistakes,

Holding to their own...thinking they’re alone...

Honor the mistakes everybody makes, one another’s terrible mistakes...

They could still be right -- they could still be good.

You decide what’s right -- you decide what’s good.

Just remember...”

“Carewyn!”

Carewyn stopped sweeping and looked up, to see Andre striding through the opened door of the Queen’s Chambers toward her.

“An -- your Highness,” Carewyn corrected herself very quickly, after noting who’d accompanied Andre.

Just behind him in the door frame was her dark-haired cousin Iris, dressed in her best rose velvet and her own almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed with loathing at Carewyn over Andre’s shoulder.

Andre, perfectly oblivious to the silent tension between the two cousins, gave a laugh.

“Oh, Carewyn, we’re not back to that again, are we? It’s ‘Andre,’ ” he said with an indulgent smile. “I haven’t heard that song before -- did you learn it recently?”

“Ah...yes,” said Carewyn. She could feel Iris’s fierce glare burning a hole in her face over Andre’s shoulder even without looking at either of them.

“It’s really quite lovely,” said Andre. “Please, do sing the rest of it when you’re able.”

“Of course, Prince Henri.”

Carewyn was absolutely not going to call Andre by his nickname in front of Iris -- she knew how Iris would shriek her head off about it to Charles.

Andre sighed and shook his head in something like tired amusement.

“I was hoping we’d catch you on your rounds,” he said conversationally. “I’m just about finished with your new shoes! Iris said your favorite color was ash gray -- I’ve never really worked with that color before, so it’ll be a bit of a challenge -- but I’m sure I’ll find a shade that might suit you...”

Ash gray? Running with the ‘Cinderwyn’ nickname, then, are we, Iris?

Carewyn forced a smile. “...Thank you. That’s...very kind.”

Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, she quickly rushed over to pick up her full dust pan with her other hand.

“Forgive me, I really should go and empty this -- ”

At that exact moment, Iris had strode forward, bumping Carewyn’s shoulder in just such a way that the pan was knocked backward onto Carewyn, covering her, her orange and tan dress, and the floor with all of the dust, dirt, and grime she’d swept up over the last hour.

“Oh!” said Iris in feigned surprise. “I’m so sorry.”

Her gaze, however, was just as hard and unapologetic as it had been when she’d ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress at home.

“Carewyn!” said Andre, concerned. “Are you all right?”

Carewyn coughed.

“...Yes, of course,” she said, her voice very hard and stoic in the back of her throat. “It was merely an accident.”

She shot Iris a cold look as she looked over her now thoroughly ruined uniform and the dust and dirt all around her feet.

“Please, go on ahead with Iris, your Highness. I’ll clean up this mess.”

Once Iris had successfully steered the reluctant-looking Andre out of the room, Carewyn closed the door, took off her dress, and finished cleaning the room in her undergarments, so as not to spread the dust and ash around any further. Then, very carefully, she darted across the hall from the Queen’s Chambers to Andre’s, so that she could fetch the high-necked, gold-embroidered dress made out of white linen and light blue velvet he’d recently finished for her from his walk-in closet. After all, she told herself, she needed something to wear while she was getting her uniform cleaned -- and well, at least Iris would be less likely to ruin this dress, since Andre had stitched it himself.

Holding her dusty, ashen dress in a folded pile against her chest, Carewyn headed downstairs toward the laundry. On her way through the entrance hall, though, KC -- who’d just come out of the library -- ran up to walk alongside her down the hall.

“Seems your friend is back.”

Carewyn’s messy ponytail flapped over her shoulder when she looked at her in surprise. “Orion?”

KC nodded, her lips curled up in a wry smile. “I thought I saw someone hopping over the wall through the library window, just now. Shall we go investigate?”

Carewyn bit her lip, looking down at the ruined uniform in her arms.

“Let me drop this off at the laundry first,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Carewyn ran down the stairs and threw her uniform into one of the tubs to soak, before quickly doing her hair up in a simple, but slightly more presentable braided bun and hurrying back up to join KC. The two women then headed out to the gardens, only to hear something of a scuffle.

“A man with innocent intentions does not hop over castle walls,” said Bill’s voice, though it sounded much lower and harder than Carewyn was used to hearing.

“In this case, sir, I assure you, I do.”

“You will declare your true name and business at once, sir, or I shall see to it that you’re locked in irons and hauled before the King himself -- ”

“Bill!” cried Carewyn.

Bill looked up, startled. The ginger-haired castle guard had slammed Orion back-first against a tree, holding him up off the ground by his collar with one hand, but at the sight of Carewyn and KC running forward, the suspicion and righteous anger in his face dissipated instantly.

“It’s all right, Bill,” Carewyn reassured him. “He’s a friend.”

“Put him down,” said KC.

Bill looked from KC to Carewyn in confusion, before glancing at Orion warily, but he nonetheless did as they said. Once he’d lowered Orion to the ground and let go of his shirt, the dark-haired man calmly adjusted his collar and picked up a satchel that must’ve come off in the struggle off the ground.

“Thank you, Carewyn...Lady Katriona,” he said pleasantly, as if he had not just been in a loose choke hold.

KC grimaced. “Orion, I’ve saved your butt twice now -- we’ve more than gotten to the point of you calling me KC.”

Orion smiled wryly. “I’m glad of it.”

Carewyn, however, still looked a bit harried. “Orion, what were you thinking? Hopping the wall...it’s no wonder Bill thought you were up to no good!”

“Well, the gate was locked, and no one was there to greet me,” said Orion airily.

“Well, of course the palace of Royaume has very strong security,” Carewyn said exasperatedly, “the royal family lives here.”

“I must wonder how the royal family ever receives visitors, then.”

“They don’t,” said Bill rather coolly. “They invite them, and very rarely, at that. And they clearly didn’t invite you to trespass on the grounds.”

Orion was unfazed. “Well, fortunately, I wasn’t looking for such an invitation, to begin with. I merely wanted to give this to Carewyn, as a gift for Madam Ali.”

He reached into his satchel and pulled out a jar of unusually shiny silvery-white paint. Bill, KC and Carewyn’s eyes all were very wide as Orion handed the jar to Carewyn.

“I asked a few people where best to locate materials for paints,” he explained. “One man pointed me to a flower that grows at the border called the Moly. He made this paint himself. I don’t think any colors  like this are made and sold at the market, so I thought I would bring along one of his jars for Madam Ali, so she might use it for her next project.”

Carewyn’s light blue eyes were very bright and touched as she looked up at Orion.

“Orion...it’s wonderful,” she said, her soft voice incredibly warm. “Badeea will love it.”

“You said he used the Moly?” asked KC, as she took the jar from Carewyn and looked at it. “Maybe Badeea could mix up some more paint of her own, then.”

Bill glanced at Orion with a raised eyebrow. “Or the Crown could simply buy it from the vendor who sold you that paint.”

Carewyn noticed a strange, almost skittish glint flicker through Orion’s eye.

“...I’m afraid that jar was a favor, not a purchase,” he said softly.

“I think Badeea would be fine with making her own, Bill,” Carewyn said firmly. “The Crown wouldn’t want to set aside extra money for materials anyway. It’d be a lot cheaper to make a paint like that in house than to buy it from someone else.”

Despite his frown, Bill nonetheless sighed and nodded. “...True. Charlie’s needed a new set of scratch awls for ages.”

Orion looked pleased. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

“Perhaps the next time you want to see Carewyn, you might figure out a way to do it that doesn’t require you scaling walls like a prowler,” said KC amusedly.

Carewyn shot KC a slightly reproachful look. Orion’s muted smile rather resembled that of a satisfied house cat.

“I’d be happy to arrange more regular meetings outside the palace, if Lady Cromwell would be open to it,” he said, his black eyes sparkling as he glanced at Carewyn.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows coolly at him. “Once again, Mr. Freeman, you seem to have an unusual amount of freedom, if you’re able to consider allocating time just to meet me.”

Her lips then spread in a wry smile.

“Still...I can hardly sit by and let you get arrested for trespassing on my account. I have some time available late tomorrow morning, before noon. I could meet you by the gate then.”

Orion grinned. “I’ll look forward to it, my lady.”

[samdeancass]

You don't need to do this!

Requested by: @sourpatchspinster

Pairing: Doctor Strange x half demon!reader

Genre: Angst

Characters: Doctor Strange, Y/N

Description: Y/N is half demon. She knows she's supposed to bad, but she can't bring herself to be. Y/N wants to be good, be a hero. But when Stephen finds out about her secret, what will happen?

A/N: Sorry if it’s bad, it’s my first time writing for Doctor Strange, so feedback will be much appreciated :)

Y/N is half demon. Her mother was human, but her father was a demon. One of the worst demons, actually. That’s why everybody expected her to follow in her fathers footsteps. But, she never turned out that way. She took after her mother, who died giving birth. Y/N has never wanted anything to do with her father, especially after she found out about the horrible things he had done. She ran away from home, and started a new life with a new job, and even found herself a wonderful partner. But she never expected her father to show up in the city where she lived.

You and Stephen were having a cosy Sunday morning in after a very busy week of fighting evil.

“This is so nice, Stephen. No monsters, no evil, just us on a rare Sunday off.” 

You were both cuddled together in bed, his arms wrapped around you, protecting you from the world.

You always felt guilty about not telling Stephen you’re secret, but you were afraid he would see you in a different light, especially with who your father is. He is one of the most notorious criminals in the world, every superhero knew about him. Nobody has ever been able to bring him down, not even the most powerful asgardian could.

On the television that was blaring in the background,  your father was wreaking havoc on New York City. You sat bolt upright in the bed, not believing what you were seeing. “Woah! What’s up, sweetheart?” Stephen rubbed a calming hand across your back. “It’s nothing. Just looks like we won’t be enjoying our day off.” Stephen and you both sighed and went to get suited up.

Currently, your father, known as Amon, was tearing up the streets. Cars were totalled, people were lying injured in the streets with nowhere to run, he had them cornered.

“AMON! What do you think your doing?” Stephen and you had made it just in time before your father knocked down the Chrysler Building. He turned around and confronted who dared to question his actions. Amon was a little taken aback to see you standing beside Stephen. He always thought that you would take after him, rise in the ranks to become the most powerful of your kind. “Hello Doctor Strange, Y/N. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Amon turned back around and dealt with the police who was currently shooting at him. He threw them in all different directions, disorientating them.

“Now, where were we?” Amon turned back around to find you and Stephen in a fighting stance. “Amon, why are you doing this? There can’t possibly be a reason why you would want to attack the whole of New York City.” Amon began to chuckle. “Mainly, it was to get my daughters attention.” You froze at his words, eyes widening. You weren’t ready for Stephen to know your secret, you didn’t want him to find out like this. “You’re daughter?” Stephen began to chuckle, not believing what he was hearing.

 “Of course, she hasn’t told you, has she? She’s too ashamed of who her father is, too ashamed of where she came from. She was supposed to be the most powerful of us all, she would have slayed hundreds, thousands even. But then, she fell in love with humanity and decided she was too good to be one of us. She fled, and moved her. Settled for a very human life, which is far from what she is.” Amon motioned towards you, giving you a very evil smirk, but behind his eyes, he was hurting that his daughter decided to run away from him.

Stephen turned around, wide-eyed and confused. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”. 

At that very question, you broke down and reeled off everything. You couldn’t lie to him, not after you had kept this bombshell from him for too long. “I’m so sorry, Stephen. Amon is my father but my mother was human, which means that I am half demon. My mother died when I was born, her body couldn’t cope with the power of giving birth to a demon. I did grow up with my father, he taught me all of the fighting I know. But when he sent me up here to wreak havoc, I just couldn’t do it. I fell in love with humanity, with humans. So I ran away. I didn’t want to be like my father any longer. I wanted to become a good demon, using my powers to save people, so I settled down here, got myself a normal job, and waited until people needed saving. I wanted to prove my father wrong, to prove that not all demons have to be bad.”

Stephen was staring at you, gobsmacked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His girlfriend, who he planned to marry, was half demon. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood. You know I deal with stuff like this, with the mystic arts. I could have helped you to strengthen your powers and use them against our enemies?” Stephen slumped his shoulders. disappointed that you couldn’t trust him with the basis of who you are.

“It’s because she’s ashamed of where she comes from. She doesn’t want to be associated with the likes of us.” Amon interrupted your conversation, leaning your focus back onto him.

“Can you blame me? With all of the destruction you cause? Look around you. You are the embodiment of evil”. You snarled, powering back up. 

At this response, Amon attacked. He first went for you, but you blocked him using your demonic powers. Amon was flung into the building behind him, leaving him a little disorientated. Stephen took this chance to try and exorcise him. He began to say the exorcism but Amon flung him back, gaining enough strength to stand back up.

“You think you’re better than me? Than your own kind? Your just the same, just a lot more powerful. You have so much potential. Come back home with me and I’ll stop destroying this city you love so much.” Amon tried to bargain with you, but you weren’t interested. You looked over at Stephen, who was gradually gaining back his strength. “I will never go back there. I will never revert back to who I used to be. I am better off without you, and it’s going to stay that way.”

With those words, you held Amon down with your powers whilst Stephen attempted to exorcise your father again. 

This time, he was successful and your father was sent back down to Hell. You walked over to Stephen and attempted to give him a hug, but he backed away.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have avoided all of this, if you had just told me the truth.” Hurt, Stephen walked away from you and conjured up a portal to the Avengers tower. He needed some space to think about everything that’s happened and what he’s going to do.

Unbeknown to you, a news crew had captured the events of what had happened and the conversation that revealed you were a demon. You had to stay inside, afraid for your own life. All you ever wanted to do since arriving in New York was help people, now your father had ruined that. Your life began to crumble around you. Stephen had not talked to you in days. You began to fear that your relationship had crumbled aswell.

Stephen was under immense pressure to exorcise you. The Avengers team didn’t agree with you being able to walk the Earth, considering what you were. The citizens of New York City wanted you gone. He knew what he had to do, he just had to bring himself to do it.

After many days of contemplating what he was going to do, he conjured up a portal to your apartment and walked through.

You were lying on your bed, deep in your own thoughts when you heard the familiar sound of sparks, indicating that Stephen had finally come to see you. You jumped from the bed and ran towards the sound.

“Stephen, you’re finally home. I’ve missed you. I’ve been going out of my mind not knowing  what is going to happen with us, but now I know.” You hugged Stephen and gave him a little squeeze. He, however, did not reciprocate the hug and gently pulled you away from him.

“Y/N, we need to talk. This, you, it’s not going to work. Now that the whole world knows what you are, they no longer believe you to be a hero, considering your father was the one who caused destruction to half of the world. I am under immense pressure from the team and the citizens of this city to exorcise you and send you home.” 

At these words, you backed away, shocked at Stephens revelation of what he was planning to do. “No, Stephen, please. You know me. You know that I’m nothing like my father. I may be half demon, but i’m half human to. I’m still capable of becoming more human. I have never done anything to this world that remotely suggests that I am anything like my father. Please, don’t give up on me.” You broke down in tears, desperately pleading with your boyfriend. You know that he still loves you, but now that he knows what you are, you’re sure that has changed his perspective of you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I have to think of the citizens of New York and the rest of the world. You are simply too dangerous to be walking around, especially with what your father did to this city. I have to do right by the people, no matter how I feel about you.”

You were knelt down on the floor, hands clasped together, begging him not do this. Hesitantly, Stephen began to chant the exorcism, his eyes welling up, knowing that he is killing the love of his life.

As he got further into the exorcism, you were becoming weaker and weaker. You tried pleading with him one last time. “Please, Stephen. I love you, I know you love me to.” Stephen began to choke up at your words. He couldn’t let his feelings get the better of him. He reeled off the last of the exorcism and, just like that, you were gone.

Stephen knelt down by the spot where you were just moments before and began to cry. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I had to do what was right.”

[aelaer]

Re: Blood in Your Veins

Hey so uh.

As anyone who’s been following me for a while knows, I started the serial “The Blood In Your Veins” about this time last year (it used to be ‘my veins’ but retitled it on its move to AO3 because execution of prompt had changed a bit over writing). It’s a prompt that I couldn’t stop thinking about and just dabbled in slowly to see where it went. Then 2020 fully hit and my writing came to almost a complete stop until about October, which is when I began again on Illuminating the Shadows, which was finished and posted in December.

Anyway, I’ve been poking and prodding fairly continuously at The Blood in Your Veins. The first four parts that I posted originally here on tumblr are now all on AO3, and once part 5′s up I’ll link it here and link everyone who wanted alerts to the updates then so they can see the new part. Then all future parts will be linked here as well.

(Cut because why the *hell* did I write this much about this?)

I’ve been slow in posting because I, against better judgement but why not, decided to post it as a WIP. But that means I keep on making edits to older parts because I think of something new that should be addressed earlier in the story. Like uh, when I was writing part 9, I realized I needed to go back to part 5 and add an addendum. When I was writing part 12, I realized I totally forgot a part that I ended up adding in part 8, because I needed it for a future connection. This happens all the time in my writing and makes posting WIPs almost dangerous because my thinking is rarely linear if the story takes place over a course of more than a couple days. Thus the very slow posting.

So this silly little prompt thing that I was just prodding and poking at to see where it went? The farking doc passed 50k words tonight. Yup.

Granted, like 10k of that is probably outlining, personal notes, and A/Ns filled to the brim with meta, medical science, fake science, and technical/computer engineering because I love talking about it and giving people info to access easily for their own knowledge. I figure I can’t be the only one who finds this stuff super fascinating and fanfic makes it unique in that it’s not a book where the research is irrelevant, you can show off all the interesting stuff right here and talk about it with people! I love that about fanfic, so much. Sometimes the A/Ns are just as interesting as the story in some stories.

So it’s gonna be a bit slow for however long, but I finished 11 parts (with 10 betaed), have the 12th largely written out (though I’m not 100% sure about it yet so I want to poke at it more), and parts uh, 13 to 17ish outlined. But considering I was like “yeah this is 8 parts at most” like, at the beginning of this, that number is bound to change because characters keep saying things and doing things (including the supporting OCs, who are demanding to be fully fleshed out within the bounds of supporting character roles).

And yeah, this is just a ramble of what I’ve been mostly doing as I haven’t been super active on tumblr this month as this has consumed most of my free time. I haven’t read a lot of works either, and once this is completed I hope to remedy that, before I go into my next two big projects (which were meant to be what I was working on *now*, but then this took over and what will you do. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to complete three novel-length fics in the course of the year, but I’ll see what I can do. I really want to tell these stories).

Uh, this was really long. Sorry, I’m super verbose and don’t know how to be like, succinct. My old boss, two bosses ago now, used to quote Twain about brevity being a sign of wit, but if it is, call me 100% unwitty because I like to ramble. And then I always feel a little bit guilty for writing *so much* about my bullshit, so I feel like if you read this far, you 100% deserve to read a preview of an upcoming section. Especially since you pressed the Read More button! So here you go, thanks for reading my rambles. This is a section from the longest part so far, part 8. It’s a long little bit!

---

"How high's the toxicity now?" Tony asked as he stepped off the scale.

"Yesterday's blood sample came back at 0.45 milligrams per kilogram of your weight," Stephen replied. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

Tony offered his arm for the blood draw. "And if 3 milligrams is the magic number for fatality, that'd put my current blood toxicity at 15%."

Stephen inserted the needle at the crook of Tony's elbow and watched the tube fill up. "That's not quite how it works."

"It makes sense to me."

"That's still not how it works." He removed the needle and capped the tube, and as he put everything away, explained, "Saying that your blood toxicity is at 15% implies that you're talking about the whole volume of blood in your body. You're probably at about 5,500 milliliters with your weight, and with the density of blood equaling about 1.06 grams per milliliter, it is like you're saying—"

"That 874.5 grams of my blood is toxic, yeah, yeah, I know," Tony interrupted. By now he was setting up the table for their breakfast.

"I was getting there."

"You were going too slow," he shot back easily. Stephen gave the engineer a look at the comment, but Tony ignored it. "Yeah, I know it's not my whole body's blood volume. Obviously. But putting a percentage on how long until I reach the point that I'm dead makes sense to me. I'm not measuring the whole volume of my blood, I'm measuring how much more can I handle until I'm dead."

Stephen shot him a frown. "It doesn't make sense to call it 'blood toxicity' then."

"Maybe not to you, but it does to me. And I'd design such a measuring tool for me."

The statement caught him off guard. "Design?" He finished packing up the kit and joined Tony at the table.

"Well, if I wasn't stuck in here, I'd design something to automatically read a blood sample, like how glucose meters read blood sugar levels. Wouldn't be hard to engineer something like that. And I'd have it give me the amount of toxicity as a percentage relating to how far along it was until the amount was lethal. Sure, I could memorize the numbers, but the percentage would be more concrete in my head."

Stephen smeared butter over a piece of bread as he listened. He shook his head at the end of Tony's explanation. "Wouldn't work for the consumer market; there's too much room for interpretation as to what the percentage means."

Tony huffed. "Well, like I said, it'd be for me. Not the consumer market."

His brow furrowed. "You're telling me that you can make a blood test as simple as the one used for testing blood sugar levels for something as rare as palladium poisoning?"

He narrowed his eyes. "... yes…"

"You can make it portable like the glucose meters?"

"Yeah, of course."

"And affordable to most hospitals?"

Tony looked up in thought. "I don't usually factor in the costs of materials and manufacturing in personal projects, and others do the number crunching to see if my ideas are viable for production in company projects. If they aren't, but I really want them to be, I'll tinker a bit more, sure."

Stephen couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Do you realize the amount of money you could save for both hospitals and patients across the country with such technology? Specialized blood tests—like for many metal poisonings, for instance—aren't offered at every hospital. It may not be available even in every state. Those types of lab results can take weeks to get back to a doctor and the patient. And you're saying that you can not only potentially create this type of technology, but that you may be able to make it affordable if you really want them to be?"

"Well yeah, sure. I've done it a few times with other things. I could probably do that with a blood meter thing. I doubt the tech's that complicated."

His mouth was partially hanging open, Stephen realized this, but he couldn't bother at the moment. He was flabbergasted. The first thought that came to mind went to his mouth, unfiltered. "And you spent the last two decades building weapons."

"Don't." The word was sharp and filled with an overabundance of emotion.

Stephen fell silent. He crossed a boundary he had yet to see before now, and he was not so callous as to push against it. Instead he turned to his meal and focused on eating. He avoided looking at the other man.

A couple minutes later, Tony spoke again. It was low, pensive. Thoughtful. "There was a good reason I shut down weapons manufacturing after I got back from Afghanistan, you know. If the department ever comes back, it will be with major restrictions and modifications. Likely more defensive than offensive. More shields, less missiles. But in the meantime I've been restructuring. Expanded in commercial aerospace and industry. We entered the energy market properly. Consumer products is coming soon—end of the year, probably." A pause. "Don't see why we can't look into medical tech, either. Certainly wouldn't hurt to try."

He could only nod and say, "It certainly wouldn't."

[katierosefun]

Random Tag

thanks @obirain for the tag! (also i just decided to post this as a sep. thing because i didnt want to clutter up the reblogs)

1. Do you make your bed? 

yes! although i always fail to put my stuffed animals away. (i know im not a thirteen year old anymore i still need my stuffed duck leave me alone)

2. What’s your favorite number? 

uhhh probably 12?

3. What is your job? 

currently out of work, but once i go back to school, i’ll be back to being a costume stock keeper.

4. If you could go back to school, would you? 

well, considering i’m still in school...but after college, i plan to go to law school, so let’s see how that works out!

5. Can you parallel park? 

nope, i don’t know how to drive (yike)

6. A job you had that would surprise people? 

hmmm, i dont really know anyone would be ‘surprised’ by any jobs i had, but i guess something semi-interesting is that when i was 8 years old, my dad asked me to make his powerpoint presentations--which i did. (and he would later show the presentations and use my picture at the last slide to say that i helped, which apparently got him a lot of “aww”s. i dont think i can put that on my resume though.)

7. Do you think aliens are real? 

considering how big the universe is, i would be very surprised if there was no other life.form out there, so sure.

8. Can you drive a manual car? 

nope rip

9. What’s your guilty pleasure? 

ummm idk?? probably watching/listening to asmr eating channels?? (which is so?? bizarre? because i dont really like hearing people eat in real life like ughH no i dont want to hear you spitting and chewing that close to me, but like on a youtube video?? it’s different?) idk there’s something just relaxing/satisfying about someone eat mochi i dont know either leave me alone

10. Tattoos? 

hmmm, i’ve kind of always wanted one on my ankle, but then i remember im not too thrilled with the idea of something permanent on my skin. 

11. Favorite color? 

purple. like, either that pastel or the indigo purple right before the sky turns dark. 

12. Favorite type of music? 

i really love orchestral movie music, and that’s kind of what i’ve been listening to the most lately, but i also really love indie, alt/rock.  

13. Do you like puzzles? 

uhhh not really. idk i know that a lot of people do puzzles to calm them down, but puzzles stress me out even more.

14. Favorite childhood sport? 

swimming! i hated being on the swimming team, but i loved swimming a lot as a kid. (and i still do! one of my favorite ways to move around!)

15. Do you talk to yourself? 

not aloud, but yes, i talk to myself quite often. or i talk to the characters i’m writing (and writing takes up about 75% of my time these days), which i would imagine count as talking a little bit to myself. (ie. me screaming at my laptop, “tell mE WHAT YOU WANT YOU CAN’T JUST KEEP STARING SADLY AT THIS PERSON FOR TWO PAGES--”)

16. What movie do you adore? 

a lot of movies! but right now doctor sleep has been a movie i just keep drawing back to. i think it’s a crime that this movie isn’t talked about more, because it’s such a gem?? especially dan and abra’s relationship im--

i will admit that i prefer the book’s ending more than the movie’s ending, but stephen king himself gave the blessing to the movie (which he didn’t with the shining), and tbh that reassures me more than what the critics have to say about the movie. 

17. Coffee or tea? 

preferably tea, but will drink coffee when i’m desperate. 

18. First thing you wanted to be growing up? 

a jedi (i kid you not, i found a letter 8 year old me wrote to ‘the jedi temple’ asking if they could pretty please come down to pick me up). in all seriousness though, i really wanted to be an author as a child! (nothing’s changed)

Tagging: @60sec400, @pandora15, and @sonderwalker! feel free to do the tag, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to! <3

[firewhiskeyandhoney]

literally all the book hcs for all your characters that you feel like doing

okay then

emmeline

does  your  muse  like  to  read?  why  or  why  not?

i think she likes to read in the casual sense but she’s not like a bookworm.

what  is  your  muse’s  favorite  and  least  book?

favorite: idk why but i keep getting a vibe that she probably is like weirdly into like traditional fairytales

least favorite: the great gatsby and i hate her for it 

what  genre  does  your  muse  prefer  to  read?

i think she probably likes sci-fi and fantasy 

what  is  the  first  book  your  muse  remembers  reading?

I think she probably read the Biscuit books when she was little.

what  is  your  muse’s  favorite  series  of  books?

I don’t want to say like fifty shades for obvious reasons but I feel like she’d ironically get into something like that as a joke but then it’d quickly become unironic.

what  book  did  your  muse  didn’t  expect  to  like  but  did?  &  why?

Tbh i think it was likely Hogwarts, A History. She probably wasn’t super interested until her third or fourth year and then she got weirdly into like the secrets of hogwarts. i feel like she def spent more than one evening looking for the chamber bc she thought it would be “fun”

what  book  did  your  muse  expect  to  like  but  didn’t?  &  why?

Twilight bc she thought it was boring and didn’t have enough sexy scenes

what  is,  in  your  muse’s  opinion,  the  worst  book  ever  written?  &  why?

A history of Magic because it’s boring

if  your  muse  wrote  a  self-help  book,  what  would  the  topic  be?

she’d write the am i a lesbian google doc

what  book  would  your  muse  like  to  see  a  series/film  adaptation  of?

game of thrones because she doesn’t recognize the hbo series

if  your  muse  could  live  in  any  literary  world,  what  world  would  they  choose  and  why?

game of thrones for the boobs

what  book  made  your  muse  cry  the  most?

the perks of being a wallflower

what  book  made  it  hard  for  your  muse  to  sleep  at  night?

It by stephen king

what  dystopian  world  does  your  muse  think  they’d  adjust  well  in?

the hunger games

is  there  a  book  that  has  changed  your  muse’s  life?

tbh, the perks of being a wallflower bc she’s always just had friends older than her

what  is  your  muse’s  least  favorite  genre?

historical romance

would  your  muse  ever  write  a  book?  if  so,  what  genre?

i don’t think so, no

does  your  muse  judge  a  book  by  it’s  cover?

100%

does  your  muse  have  a  book,  series  or  genre  that  they’d  consider  a  guilty  pleasure  of  theirs

definitely romance novels

does  your  muse  write  reviews  after  they’ve  finished  a  book?

on twitter, yes

is  your  muse  the  type  to  take  a  break  after  finishing  a  book,  or  are  they  a  the  type  to  go  straight  onto  the  next?

i think she probably only reads a few books a year and they’re either one after the other or with months in between

has  your  muse  ever,  or  would  they  ever,  join  a  book  club?

absolutely not

is  there  a  book  your  muse  has  read  multiple  times?

hogwarts a history

what  was  the  last  book  your  muse  read?

probably a stephen king book

does  your  muse  prefer  to  buy  new  books  or  used  ones?

used books

does  your  muse  prefer  physical  books  or  e-readers?

e-readers

has  your  muse  ever  had  a  crush  on  a  literary  character?  if  so,  who?

i don’t think so, no

regulus

does  your  muse  like  to  read?  why  or  why  not?

i think he definitely likes to read because he doesn’t have much else to entertain himself with

what  is  your  muse’s  favorite  and  least  book?

favorite: some weird potions book least favorite: a history of magic

what  genre  does  your  muse  prefer  to  read?

definitely weird non-fiction about genealogy 

what  is  the  first  book  your  muse  remembers  reading?

The Wizard and the Hopping Pot

what  is  your  muse’s  favorite  series  of  books?

his school books

what  book  did  your  muse  didn’t  expect  to  like  but  did?  &  why?

his 6th year defense against the dark arts text book because he was getting into like de stuff at that point

what  book  did  your  muse  expect  to  like  but  didn’t?  &  why?

history of magic

what  is,  in  your  muse’s  opinion,  the  worst  book  ever  written?  &  why?

hogwarts a history because he just does not understand the point of it. he doesn’t really care for hogwarts.

if  your  muse  wrote  a  self-help  book,  what  would  the  topic  be?

how to deal with familial abandonment issues by seeking a surrogate brother in your local fascist regime

what  book  would  your  muse  like  to  see  a  series/film  adaptation  of?

nothing

if  your  muse  could  live  in  any  literary  world,  what  world  would  they  choose  and  why?

i don’t think he’d be really into anything that has its own world

what  book  made  your  muse  cry  the  most?

his family’s like genealogy book

what  book  made  it  hard  for  your  muse  to  sleep  at  night?

probably something dark arts related towards when he turns against voldemort

what  dystopian  world  does  your  muse  think  they’d  adjust  well  in?

his own world

is  there  a  book  that  has  changed  your  muse’s  life?

probably the first like dark arts book that thorfinn gave him. i’d say chris but i feel like thorfinn was likely more of the one that was like “okay you need to read xyz” and chris was the “let’s go out and do this” type of people

what  is  your  muse’s  least  favorite  genre?

fiction

would  your  muse  ever  write  a  book?  if  so,  what  genre?

i feel like he’d write a book maybe in the far future about what happened maybe, if he felt that he needed his family to regain favor.

does  your  muse  judge  a  book  by  it’s  cover?

eh i don’t think so, no

does  your  muse  have  a  book,  series  or  genre  that  they’d  consider  a  guilty  pleasure  of  theirs?

no

does  your  muse  write  reviews  after  they’ve  finished  a  book?

no i don’t think he cares enough to do that

is  your  muse  the  type  to  take  a  break  after  finishing  a  book,  or  are  they  a  the  type  to  go  straight  onto  the  next?

i think he’s probably always reading something and it varies as to how into it he is at a given moment

has  your  muse  ever,  or  would  they  ever,  join  a  book  club?

not a chance

is  there  a  book  your  muse  has  read  multiple  times?

probably some sort of family history book, yes

what  was  the  last  book  your  muse  read?

probably some sort of dark arts book

does  your  muse  prefer  to  buy  new  books  or  used  ones?

i’d say new but i think the books he’s into are pretty rare and so they end up being used

does  your  muse  prefer  physical  books  or  e-readers?

he doesn’t know what an e-reader is 

has  your  muse  ever  had  a  crush  on  a  literary  character?  if  so,  who?

no

sienna

does  your  muse  like  to  read?  why  or  why  not?

i actually think that she probably enjoys reading but doesn’t do it very often

what  is  your  muse’s  favorite  and  least  book?

favorite: some sort of wizarding political history book least favorite: the remedial defense against the dark arts books that her father made her read over the summers for tutoring

what  genre  does  your  muse  prefer  to  read?

definitely like political memoirs or history books

what  is  the  first  book  your  muse  remembers  reading?

probably some wizarding fairy tale

what  is  your  muse’s  favorite  series  of  books?

i don’t think she really has one

what  book  did  your  muse  didn’t  expect  to  like  but  did?  &  why?

probably like some sort of lockhart-esque book bc it didn’t have as much gossip as she’d like.

what  book  did  your  muse  expect  to  like  but  didn’t?  &  why?

probably history of magic because it was more dense than she thought it was going to be

what  is,  in  your  muse’s  opinion,  the  worst  book  ever  written?  &  why?

hogwarts a history because she too hates hogwarts

if  your  muse  wrote  a  self-help  book,  what  would  the  topic  be?

it’s not you, it’s him: how to get over your bad luck in love

what  book  would  your  muse  like  to  see  a  series/film  adaptation  of?

probably some cheesy romance book

if  your  muse  could  live  in  any  literary  world,  what  world  would  they  choose  and  why?

i think she likes her life too much to want that

what  book  made  your  muse  cry  the  most?

her defense against the dark arts text books

what  book  made  it  hard  for  your  muse  to  sleep  at  night?

she probably read something when she was younger about like “how to spot squibs” and then convinced herself that she was a squib or something but was scared to tell anyone

what  dystopian  world  does  your  muse  think  they’d  adjust  well  in?

i don’t know that she’d think that about any dystopian world

is  there  a  book  that  has  changed  your  muse’s  life?

no, i don’t think so 

what  is  your  muse’s  least  favorite  genre?

text books

would  your  muse  ever  write  a  book?  if  so,  what  genre?

she could definitely be convinced to write a memoir. or have one ghost written

does  your  muse  judge  a  book  by  it’s  cover?

definitely

does  your  muse  have  a  book,  series  or  genre  that  they’d  consider  a  guilty  pleasure  of  theirs?

i think she probably is lowkey really into self help books

does  your  muse  write  reviews  after  they’ve  finished  a  book?

nope but she may like do a tweet about it if she thinks it’s especially good

is  your  muse  the  type  to  take  a  break  after  finishing  a  book,  or  are  they  a  the  type  to  go  straight  onto  the  next?

she probably is always reading something but takes months to finish anything

has  your  muse  ever,  or  would  they  ever,  join  a  book  club?

nope she’s too self conscious about seeming dumb

is  there  a  book  your  muse  has  read  multiple  times?

probably some sort of self help book

what  was  the  last  book  your  muse  read?

probably a memoir of some sort

does  your  muse  prefer  to  buy  new  books  or  used  ones?

she doesn’t know people buy used books

does  your  muse  prefer  physical  books  or  e-readers?

e-readers definitely

has  your  muse  ever  had  a  crush  on  a  literary  character?  if  so,  who?

maybe like a celebrity in a memoir or something

[fivour]

1/2/3/4/5/11/12/13/15/16/24/25 i don't think i will ever stop asking you things about your writing hehe (=^･ｪ･^=)

youre keeping this blog alive bro keep askin’

answered 4 in a previous ask.

-

1. was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? or did it spring up when you were older? or is it just a hobby?

-

I never thought about being a writer as a kid, it was always something like an artist/teacher/musician aka rock star. I think it’s just a hobby for now although I would like to begin freelancing/commission work at some point. With my career plans, I’ll more than likely have to publish a research book at some point, though, but that’s many years off.

-

2. overall, would you say you are more driven by plot or characters in writing? (what makes you more excited about an idea?)

-

Characters 100%. If they are little toy soldiers, then I am the nine year old boy’s shithead cat that knocks them into the register vents. I wanna play with them and mess ‘em up.

Plots do not interest me in the slightest and I do not like making them. It’s part of why I don’t usually write longfic, only oneshots and short multi-chapter work.

-

3. give an overview/description of some of your past stories. (only if you are willing, of course!)

-

Here’s a... fun story: One of my first fanfictions was a story about Percy Jackson family feud. I was sick at home a lot, so I had daytime television brainrot. Anyways, I got multiple reviews telling me I spelled "feud" wrong, some constructive some not. However, I was a spoiled brat and I couldn’t handle not being the smartest person in the room, so I doubled down on "Family Fued.”

I am now an honors English kid and still cannot spell feud, field, or chief without autocorrect. It is my punishment for being an asshole on the internet in 2014.

-

5. do you have an idea for a story you don’t feel you can write at this current time? (whether it be because life is busy right now, you need to do more research, etc.)

-

Yes. I have a concept and outline for a long DioNilla fic inspired primarily by The Guilty by David Baldacci and this one podcast episode about partners in crime. At this point, there’s two different versions of it and I don’t know which I like more (one hit wonder for revenge or a totally romantic murder spree?). Both would have drastically different legal outcomes, but I’m not law-fluent enough to write either and the courtroom is an unavoidable scene I can’t just gloss over.

I also have an AU inspired by a movie that I’m not sure if I will ever write.

-

11. share a passage from one of your works and tell us why you liked it so much.

-

This is difficult because I have no recollection of anything I have ever written before yesterday. So I’ll just pick a recent one.

“His shoes are not thick enough to stop his leg from feeling jarred and his toes from feeling smashed, but the pain is enough to distract from the anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. His heart races, pounding furiously against his rib cage, as if it were a prisoner beating at cell bars. It feels as if it’ll explode right from his chest, and his stomach quickly follows suit, churning with the pure agony that his newfound fury is putting his nerves through.

Fugo is miserable.

Fugo is miserable of mind and body and he wants to hurt something.”

Mabye I cheated a little. But I really like how this fic turned out in general (props to you for requesting it). This passage especially, because I used my own issues with and response to anger as a basis for Fugo’s reaction.

I think this is the most accurately I have ever described how it feels to be enraged and full of adrenaline. Not necessarily wanting to harm something or even yourself; you just need to get rid of the excess of energy that’s exploded inside of you all of a sudden. It’s an itch for action in a situation where it isn’t appropriate.

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12. what is the worst writing advice in your opinion?

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I’ve seen people totally against pantsing/not plotting a work (like, you-aren’t-a-real-writer against it), but I think the only thing I have to do to describe how foolish it is to discredit that method is point towards Stephen King.

An especially bad piece of advice that I’ve seen is to not write things that are not your lived experience. EX: if you are not a cis woman, don’t write a character that is. It defeats the entire purpose of writing and is ass backwards if you want any diversity within a work. Also... research is a thing that most authors do? And it teaches you to be more understanding of that lived experience???

There’s a lot I could say about it, but that sums up my biggest issues with it.

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13. what is the best writing advice?

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Again with Stephen King but... In a Q&A, he says something along the lines of not writing a character, by letting them write themselves. This comment was in reference to a question about Pet Sematary, I believe, which I would call the best and most alarming descent into madness I have ever read, so you bet your sweet cheeks that advice is always on my mind.

As for more general advice, creating/filling out a character sheet (x) is a really good way to figure out who your character is. I used them while writing Art & Pain and it made me realize a few holes I had to patch.

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15. do you tell friends/family about your writing, or do you keep it a secret?

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IRLs: they know I write. All but one or two of them do not know my handles nor that I write fanfiction.

I write original pieces which I don’t exactly hide, but no one knows those handles either.

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16. what are some of your favorite words to use in writing?

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enigma

superstitious

flabbergasted

superfluous

wonder

coursing

ecstatic

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24. best compliment someone has given you about your writing.

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One of the best ones I’ve ever gotten was on a fic under a separate handle, so I won’t share it lol. But it was about how I write emotion and that means a lot to me because emotion is very difficult for me to articulate.

It kind of blows my mind that people actually binge read my work, too... even if it’s just a longfic that would take maximum two hours to read, it’s really flattering that they like my writing that much. Repeat commenters/readers are also one of the best things ever and I love them.

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25. five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

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God, I don’t know. I’ll hopefully be in college by then, so I have no idea what my life will look five years from now (other than the fact I will definitely be worked to the bone). I’d like to think I’ll keep doing it as a hobby, at least.

[invisibleicewands]

What are your memories of Who Wants to Be A Millionaire?

When it first came to the screen in 1998? I remember being really struck that a TV quiz show was on every night of the week in primetime. It was unheard of at the time. Then watching Who Wants to Be A Millionaire? and being blown away by the tension of it. It was so compelling and really groundbreaking. In doing the research for this it was fascinating to be able to watch the experimentation they did before they got it right. The version of the show they did before they had all the tense music, the lighting and all of that. It just looked like any game show at that stage. Apart from the £1 million on offer and the structure of how you could win it, the show was completely different and not in any way gripping. It was really interesting to see the difference the tweaks they made had and how it suddenly became a massive hit. As soon as it hit its groove it was mind-blowing.

Why did you want to be involved in Quiz?

It is an extraordinary story. It’s one of those things that has such potential. At first you think, ‘Oh really? A story about Who Wants to Be A Millionaire? Is that going to be that interesting?’ Initially you think it’s going to be a little bit flimsy, maybe. Then you realise that actually it’s a way to explore all kinds of much bigger, complicated, complex issues. That you can’t take anything for granted when it comes to how it looks on the surface. I was drawn to Quiz because I remembered what happened. And the fact James Graham had written it and Stephen Frears was directing. You think, ‘This is going to be interesting.’ Then as I started reading the scripts you really get drawn into it. So, I hope that’s the experience for the audience watching it as well. I’m sure it will be. It’s a story about far more than just the ‘Coughing Major’. And yet it says so much about us as a nation as well in so many ways. It says a lot about television, about entertainment, about how public perceptions can be influenced by all kinds of different things. It’s a very British heist that happened. It very much reminded me of the sort of stuff Peter Morgan was writing when we were doing things like The Queen, The Damned United, Frost/Nixon and all of those. Peter’s eye for what makes a really good story, that is both something that catches people’s interest and yet takes them into places you wouldn’t expect to go with that story. Then you are able to tell a much bigger story about who we are as a nation,  as a culture, as a society. Through telling a very specific story about something very familiar. Quiz was very much in that groove. Stephen Frears is the person who got me involved with Peter Morgan in the first place. So, I’m not surprised that Stephen wanted to do this. Plus, the producers. We were all part of that team who did The Deal, The Queen, The Damned United, Frost/Nixon, all of those. There was a lot of the same team here. Which was great.

How do you approach playing someone as recognisable as Chris Tarrant without making it a straight impersonation or caricature?

The difficulty with playing Chris Tarrant in Quiz is that the other real-life people I have played are usually the lead character or one of two lead characters. You get a much bigger canvas to work with. Whereas he’s very much a supporting character in this. So that made it more difficult, I found. Because you don’t get as much to stretch out with. You come in more short bursts. Part of the challenge of playing characters that are very familiar to the audience watching the show is you want to make sure you deal with expectations. So, an audience who are going to sit down and watch me play Chris Tarrant, Tony Blair, Kenneth Williams, Brian Clough, David Frost or whoever it might be, you know the audience need to believe this.

They are going, ‘I want to see this actor convince me they are like that person.’ You’ve got to meet that expectation immediately. But you’ve also got to try and put that expectation aside as quickly as possible. So, the audience are not thinking about that anymore. You want to be able to make the audience go, ‘Oh yes. I get the thrill of recognition of this. Yes, I believe this. I’m willing to go on this journey.’ And then you want them to forget about that and go on the journey with you and watch it like they would watch anything else. Playing a very familiar character who is not one of the lead characters, it’s much harder to get the audience to forget and to just go with you. Because you don’t get as much screen time. That was the challenge that was a bit harder with this one. It’s also a challenge with people who can be easily caricatured.

I’ve heard Chris Tarrant himself saying he hoped the portrayal of him wouldn’t be this over the top caricature. And I hope that’s not what it is. He is someone who is incredibly familiar to us as an audience with a very particular kind of voice. The characteristics that make him such a popular TV personality are also the characteristics that can make someone easy to caricature. You look for things to hang on to in playing someone like that. You go, ‘Right, I’ll use that.’ Because audiences will recognise that and, hopefully, it will help them believe I’m this person. But at the same time, if you make too much of those things then it does just become a caricature. The process I’ve done for all the real-life characters I’ve played is pretty much the same. Whereby I try and put off the point at which I start trying to ‘sound’ like them or ‘act’ like them for as long as possible. And just try and immerse yourself in the world of that person. I watched as much of Who Wants to Be A Millionaire? as I possibly could. Especially the early shows.

Because Chris Tarrant is so brilliant at what he does on that show, I had to watch it over and over again in order to see what it is that he is actually doing a lot of the time. Because a lot of what he is doing is covered up. He is being brilliant. He is doing so many things at the same time. And he makes it look effortless. Creating the tension and yet at the same time being very accessible, entertaining and funny. But not ever letting that break the tension. That is a really difficult thing that not many people can do. And he does it without drawing attention to the fact he does it.  So, I watched Millionaire over and over again to see what he’s actually doing in the show as well as trying to find within that, who is he? Who is Tarrant? What’s going on to do with his inner life aside from his  technical brilliance at what he is doing on the show. Just immersing yourself in all of that and letting things jump out at you eventually.

Have you come to a conclusion about the guilt or innocence of those convicted in this case?

Like most people, I assumed there was no question about the convictions of Charles and Diana Ingram and Tecwen Whittock. They cheated, they were found guilty and they were convicted. I had no reason to assume anything else. I watched the ITV documentary about it which was very much about how they did do it. But by the end of the documentary I was like, ‘I’m not sure about this.’ I had no reason to question the received opinion about it all. And yet watching a documentary that was very much saying they were guilty; I came out of it with some big questions about it. Feeling a little bit dubious. Then I read the scripts for Quiz, which are not saying, necessarily, one way or another. But they certainly open up questions again. And I was very open to that. By the end of it I certainly didn’t feel as sure they were guilty as I had in the time between when it happened and then coming to work on this. I don’t really feel qualified to say either way. But it certainly made me question stuff and be open to the possibility that the truth is still to be discovered.

[ashtray-girl]

Songs that are about Johnny Marr (probably)

THE SMITHS

The Smiths

Hand In Glove → the lyrics are about a deep friendship and Johnny himself said he thinks it’s about his relationship with Morrissey because they were “only hanging out with each other at the time”.

Meat Is Murder

I Want The One I Can’t Have → all about unrequited love. A possible reference in the title to Elizabeth Smart’s novella By Grand Central Station I Sat Down And Wept – “I want the one I want.” Also: “Meet me in the Alley” is a 1972 song by John Mars.

Well I Wonder → a desperate plea by Morrissey for someone to keep him in mind. There are several loans from By Grand Central Station... (which by the way is about a deeply emotional, doomed and unrequited love), namely: “Well I wonder, do you hear me when you sleep?” / “Is it possible he can not hear me when he lies so close, so lightly asleep?” , “My dear, my darling, do you hear me when you sleep?” “This is the fierce last stand of what I am.” This song was never performed live and Johnny said it was because they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to capture its full magic, which makes sense, but I also get the feeling that this song was particularly special to both Morrissey and Johnny, for reasons which went beyond its lyricism and music.

The Queen Is Dead

I Know It’s Over → conceived just a few months after Johnny married his girlfriend Angie while The Smiths were on tour in the US. Morrissey was Johnny’s witness. The lyrics mention a wedding and a failed relationship that “never really began” because “love is natural and real, but not for such as you and I, my love” (where “natural and real” could easily be interpreted as “straight”.)

The Boy With The Thorn In His Side → even though Morrissey said that this was a song about his tormented relationship with the music industry (that being the “thorn” in his side), in my opinion there’s also another interpretation. Just as in Well I Wonder, there are a few loans from By Grand Central Station… namely: “How can they see the love in our eyes and still they don’t believe us?” / “They intercepted our glances because of what was in our eyes.” “And if they don’t believe us now, will they ever believe us?” / “Did they see such flagrant proof and still not believe?”. These are especially relevant because they come from a point in the book in which the author is specifically talking about her love for a married man (poet George Barker) and about how they were attempting to see each other in spite of that, which caused them to get arrested while together in Arizona for “moral turpitude”.

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out → references being driven around in someone’s car. Morrissey and Johnny apparently used to go on long car rides together, Morrissey talked about how he found cars to be “erotic” and there are multiple examples of that in his lyrics (see This Charming Man, That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore etc.). Also, the lyrics are, once again, about unrequited love.

Strangeways Here We Come (the pining here was at its finest imo)

A Rush And A Push And The Land Is Ours → the title is a reference to a traditional Irish rallying call which Oscar Wilde’s mother, who wrote Irish nationalist prose and poetry, used to urge the Irish to rise up against the British army. “Some eighteen months ago” could be a reference to Oscar Wilde being sentenced to hard labor for soliciting male prostitutes. The lyrics are about the “pain and strain” of being in love despite not wanting to. Also, the way he sings “so phone me, phone me” sounds like he’s saying “f*ck me”. (I thought I was the only one who thought that, but apparently not.)

I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish → the lyrics are about going too far with someone who can’t/doesn’t want to be pushed. Another reference to “eighteen months’ hard labor”. The “Okay Stephen, do that again” at the end is aimed at producer Stephen Street, but Morrissey is also called Steven. Why was that left in the recording? Was it fully intentional? Who wants Stephen to do what again? Maybe the other person mentioned in the song doesn’t actually mind being pushed out of their comfort zone by Morrissey, they just lack the courage to seal the whole deal for whatever reason.

Girlfriend In A Coma → according to the lyrics, Morrissey doesn’t seem to like this woman, yet he feels guilty about it and doesn’t wish her ill. Could this be a reference to Angie Marr, who he sees as an obstacle between him and Johnny, despite having a good opinion of her as a person?

Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before → by now, Morrissey may have realized that he has written an awful lot about being in love with someone who doesn’t reciprocate. Also, his love for this other person must be so obvious by now, he’s said almost everything on the subject and yet he still wants to make clear that: “Nothing’s changed, I still love you, only slightly less than I used to, my love.” By now, his working relationship with Johnny was starting to deteriorate. Another interesting note is: “Oh, who said I’d lied to her because I never? I never!”. While this is grammatically incorrect, it’s also a common way of speaking in most Northern cities, so this reads like a quote that someone may have uttered at some point and this may be why, when called out on it, Morrissey said it was meant to be written that way. It’s worth pointing out how Morrissey liked to correct Johnny’s grammar in interviews and he even mentioned in his Autobiography how Johnny’s way of speaking was “shockingly bad”.

Death At One’s Elbow → the song’s title was taken from the diaries of 60s playwright Joe Orton, beaten to death with a hammer by his lover Kenneth Halliwell. Johnny’s opinion on the song was ambivalent. He stated that: “It was good sometimes to have a track that wasn’t trying to win the war like There Is A Light That Never Goes Out,” he said. "It was almost like, ‘We have the right to be slightly less intense.’ I liked Morrissey’s singing and I liked my own backing vocals” and yet, when asked by Johnny Rogan about it for his book Morrissey & Marr: The Severed Alliance, he sounded much less pleased with it, saying: “Oh God, did we really write that?”.

I Won’t Share You → widely believed by everyone to be about Morrissey’s possessive feelings towards Johnny (who not only didn’t mind, but seemed actually quite pleased about it).

Others

Wonderful Woman → It was originally titled “What Do You See In Him?” and included lyrics such as: “Cheat the Life out of me as you walk hand in hand / And I try, and I try, but I will never understand / What do you see in her?” “That she will plague you / And I will be glad / Yes, she will leave you / And I will be glad.” The final version, albeit quite different, is still about a woman who seems quite unpleasant but to whom the protagonist feels irresistibly drawn to. With the final: “When she calls me I do not walk, I run” there’s an acknowledgment of co-dependence in the relationship but, even though the first person is used, this could have been a way to write from someone else’s point of view. Specifically, the boyfriend of someone with a very domineering personality. (Basically, he’s writing from Johnny’s perspective).

Ask → the lyrics are about being too shy to make a move on someone, yet Morrissey seems to be eager to take on board whatever the other person has in mind. There’s pining and there’s the possibility of a relationship which looks promising but never amounts to anything substantial because the people involved don’t have the courage to take it any further, despite wanting to. 

These Things Take Time → mentions of a relationship which is impeded by the fact that the other person is engaged to someone else (“I’m spellbound, but a woman divides”). Johnny was already with Angie at the time. “And the hills are alive with celibate cries”. Morrissey had been talking to the press about being celibate and not really interested in romantic/sexual relationships, but the fact that the object of his desire was someone he knew he couldn’t have could have been part of the reason why he felt he had to take that stance. Also, it seems like he already felt like this relationship wouldn’t last, with the other person “leaving him behind” in the end.

Is It Really So Strange? → I’m not so sure about this one, but I’m including it because the lyrics are about traveling from North to South and about loving someone in spite of unfavorable circumstances. Also, according to Johnny (from Mozipedia): “Road trips were a big part of the group. We opted to live in Manchester most of the time but were always traveling back and forth to London. It was in cars on the motorway where myself and Morrissey did a lot of our profound talking and thinking and listening. We loved it, because we’d take off at half three in the morning back to Manchester or down to London, just razzing about. That came out in ‘Is It Really So Strange?’”. As a matter of fact, Morrissey included the track on Rank, which he compiled alone a year after the band’s demise, and I feel like every song on that record was put in that particular order for a particular reason (if you look at the tracklist it basically tells the whole story of The Smiths, from start to finish… he even included The Draize Train which he claimed he didn’t like, which is why he refused to put lyrics on it, so I can only assume he did that as a conciliatory gesture towards Johnny).

I Keep Mine Hidden → the last song The Smiths ever recorded, it is, like “I Won’t Share You”, widely believed to be a direct message from Morrissey to Johnny, who was about to leave the band. A plea for understanding, he seems to imply that for Johnny is much easier to lie (about what?) while hiding in plain sight (“But it’s so easy for you, because you let yours flail into public view”), while Morrissey is forced to keep HIS hidden. IT could be his emotions and the fact that he feels the need to repress them because of some trauma in his past (“I’m a twenty-eight digit combination to unlock, with a past where to be touched meant to be mental.”), but IT could also be a relationship. Johnny was married, while at the time Morrissey showed no public signs of being involved with anyone and had yet to relinquish his celibate image, which may have been frustrating if he was actually interested in someone but couldn’t voice it.

MORRISSEY

Viva Hate

Alsatian Cousin → literally the first sentence on the first record Morrissey released post-Smiths is: “Were you and he lovers? And would you say so if you were?”. While the rest of the song is pretty ambiguous is interesting to note that, according to Mozipedia, Johnny was, at the time, the proud owner of two Alsatian dogs.

Angel Angel Down We Go Together → Morrissey himself admitted that this song was about Johnny. He also said it’s the only song he’d written with him in mind, post-Smiths, and that it was about how sorry he felt to see him being taken advantage of by the music industry. While the full truth of this statement may be debatable, it’s still worth noting how the lyrics end with the repeated: “I love you more than life”.

Late Night, Maudlin Street → While Morrissey said that this song was about his isolating childhood during the 70s, I think the lyrics go much deeper than that. Apparently, when Johnny wanted to leave the band, Morrissey took it badly enough for people to start worrying about the fact that he might take his own life. Both Stephen Street and Grant Showbiz admitted to this, with Showbiz even spending the night at Morrissey’s house to keep an eye on him. There’s also a rumor about the fact that Morrissey actually did attempt to kill himself by baking a cake with loads of sleeping pills in it, eating it and then phoning Johnny, admitting that he loved him and asking him to come seeing him before he died, with Johnny calling an ambulance instead. (“I came home late one night, everyone had gone to bed, nobody stays up for you, I had sixteen stitches all around my head / The last bus I missed to Maudlin Street so, he drove me home in the van...”) This would also explain the lyrics: “And I know I took strange pills, but I never meant to hurt you”. If this story was true, then I feel like moving away from Maudlin Street could actually be a metaphor for committing suicide. (“Good-bye house, forever! I never stole a happy hour around here”, “I am moving house, a half-life disappears today / Every hag waves me on, secretly wishing me gone / Well, I will be soon / Oh, I will be soon.”) There are also more loans from Elizabeth Smart’s By Grand Central Station… namely: “They took you away in a police car / Dear Inspector, don’t you know? Don’t you care? Don’t you know about love?”. This part comes from the same chapter which probably inspired part of the lyrics for The Boy With The Thorn In His Side and which is about people putting themselves between a loving couple. Also, according to Mozipedia, during the making of Viva Hate, Morrissey prepared the artwork for the final Smiths single, Last Night I Dreamt… which was originally going to include an inscription on the back sleeve saying: “When I sleep with that picture beside me… I really think it’s you.”, which would explain the lyrics: “When I sleep with that framed picture of you beside my bed / Oh, it’s childish and it’s silly, but I think it’s you in my room, by the bed.” The single’s inner sleeve was also going to feature a lyric from Well I Wonder, “Please keep me in mind”, so these may very well have been messages for Johnny. Worthy of interest are also the parts about love at first sight and seeing each other with no clothes on.

Suedehead → the lyrics are about someone sticking around Morrissey even though they know it hurts him. Suedeheads were a subculture in early 1970’s England that split off from the skinheads and came to popular notice in a book by Richard Allen. Morrissey apparently read the book, but according to Len Brown’s Meetings with Morrissey interviews, the title has little to do with the subject matter of the song: M: I did happen to read the book when it came out and I was quite interested in the whole Richard Allen cult. But really I just like the word ‘suedehead’." LB: “So it’s not even based on an episode from Suedehead?” M: “No, not really.” LB: “And it’s not about anyone in particular?” M: “Yes, it is, but I’d rather not give any addresses and phone numbers at this stage. But the most interesting nugget of information comes once again from Mozipedia, which says it may be worth taking into consideration a recollection from Johnny about a period during the latter half of The Smiths’ career when he decided to ‘get a motorbike and get a suedehead’. ‘That was my mantra for a while. Gotta get a suedehead! Gotta get a suedehead!’ […] ‘I think I may have brought that word into the vernacular, I might be wrong. But that’s what I did, got myself a motorbike and a suedehead haircut. To cloud further autobiographical analysis, Morrissey also said that he has never kept a diary, even though “I make so many records that in a peculiar way that becomes like a personal diary”. And as far as the repeated “It was a good lay” at the end, he said he just made it up (which I personally doubt, but I guess we’ll never know for sure).

Break Up The Family → I feel like the title is a metaphor for The Smiths splitting up. “You say break up the family and let’s begin to live our lives”. It was Johnny who wanted to ‘take a break’ from the band, which Morrissey didn’t approve of, so this may very well be about that particular moment when Johnny told him he’d had enough. There’s yet another reference to being driven home by someone: “Hailstones, driven home in his car- no breaks? I don’t mind.” Which reminds me of There Is A Light… “And if a double-decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side it’s such a heavenly way to die.”

I Don’t Mind If You Forget Me → when Morrissey started working on Viva Hate, one of the earliest songs he was working on was called I Don’t Want Us To Finish, with Us probably being him and Johnny. It’s said the song was later scrapped, but I feel like it may actually have been turned into this one instead. In the lyrics, Morrissey is trying to convince himself that he doesn’t mind if the person he cares about the most ends up forgetting him, but clearly he does care, otherwise he wouldn’t have written an entire song about it. “The pressure to change, to move on / Was strange and very strong / So this is why I tell you / I really do understand / Bye bye”. I feel like this is another reference to Johnny’s departure, because it was him who wanted a change of direction for the band’s future, while Morrissey seemed to be happy for them to stay as they were.

Treat Me Like A Human Being → this was a demo which was abandoned and later released in 2012 on a Viva Hate reissue, taking the place as track 9 instead of The Ordinary Boys. The lyrics are a plea by Morrissey for someone to acknowledge his feelings and have some compassion for him. The reason I’m including it in this list is because of the lyric: “Leave all your hate behind you”, which could be interpreted as a reference to the fact that, after The Smiths split up, Johnny had started bad-mouthing him in the press. Worthy of interest is also: “Three words could change my life / Yet you treat me like you never care”. I wonder what those three words might be… “Stop being racist”, maybe?

Oh Well, I’ll Never Learn → Suedehead b-side, there’s not much to say about this one but I do find the lyrics “I found a fountain of youth / And I fell in / How could I ever win?” interesting, if anything because they make me think of the fact that Johnny, being four years younger than Morrissey, was the one who put The Smiths together. It’s also been mentioned how energetic he was, fully in contrast with Morrissey’s coy personality, and yet Johnny’s energy would prove infectious, providing him with an unexpected source of drive and creativity and making him feel rejuvenated, much like a fountain of youth. Also, right at the beginning it says: “Looking up at the sign / It said: PLEASE KEEP AWAY / And so in I ran” which can be read in many ways, but would make perfect sense in the context of falling in love with someone you can’t have.

Bona Drag

He Knows I’d Love To See Him → the lyrics are about Morrissey wanting to rekindle his relationship with someone he hasn’t seen for quite some time. Even though he’s never admitted to it, I feel like this has to be about Johnny because of the line: “’Cause when I lived in the arse of the world”. It’s common knowledge that Johnny was the one who first reached out to Morrissey about forming a band by showing up to his house and later, in an interview, he said that Johnny’s initiative probably saved his life. Also, the lyric: “My name still conjures up deadly deeds / And a bad taste in the mouth” could be yet another reference to the fact that The Smiths’ split-up hadn’t been exactly amicable and Johnny was talking badly about him in the press. Still, even though Morrissey makes his feelings known right from the title (he wish he could see him and still wishes him happiness), the final: “He doesn’t know” suggests that the other person is not aware of Morrissey’s magnanimity. Also, in an interview of the same period (1990), he was asked: “If Johnny phoned and asked to work with you again, what would you say?” to which he replied: “It’s no secret I would be on the next bus to his house”. So, it seems like the song might have reflected his actual feelings.

Yes, I Am Blind → the reason I’m including this is because of the lyric: “Yes, I am blind / But I do see / Evil people prosper / Over the likes of you and me, always”. Which reminds me a lot of: “And people who are weaker than you and I / they take what they want from life” from A Rush And A Push… which I think was directed to Johnny as well. Pretty interesting are also the lyrics: “Love’s young dream / I’m the one who shopped you / I’m the one who stopped you / ‘Cause in my sorry ways I love you” and: “Love’s young dream / Are you sorry for what you’re done? / Well, you’re not the only one / And in my sorry ways I love you”. This sounds like ‘Love’s young dream’ was the one who made the first move towards Morrissey but was then pushed away by the man himself, maybe because he realized this person didn’t actually love him as much as he thought. Also, that repeated: “And in my sorry ways I love you” reminds me a lot of that line in Speedway, “In my own strange way / I’ve always been true to you / In my own sick way / I’ll always stay true to you” (more on that later). This is one of those songs that has no explicit references to Johnny or to events surrounding him, but it has such a feeling of longing to it, I can’t help but think it may have been written with him in mind.

Happy Lovers At Last United → Johnny and Angie split up for a brief period back in 1983, just before The Smiths were to go on tour in the USA for the first time, but got back together once the band were back in the UK. This song talks about Morrissey helping a couple of friends reuniting and then feeling sad because he feels like they don’t want him nor need him anymore. Obviously I don’t know why or how Johnny and Angie actually got back together… according to The Severed Alliance, they had split up in the first place because Johnny had gotten closer to an ex of his and it was actually Joe Moss, the band’s first manager and Johnny’s friend, who suggested he and Angie should get married. Morrissey’s role in this whole thing, on the other hand, is never mentioned, so the only thing we can rely on are these lyrics.

Kill Uncle

Tony The Pony → This song is a pretty harsh condemnation of someone who lets himself being repeatedly taken advantage of by anyone and personally, I see it as the flipside of Angel Angel Down We Go Together. The reason being, they both deal with a similar theme, but in two completely different ways. While Angel Angel is sad but compassionate, this one is resentful and dripping with exasperation. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you / Always nagging big brother / He’s only looking out for you”. Being older than Johnny, Morrissey was the one who tried to refrain him from doing stuff he didn’t approve of (like working with anyone who wasn’t him). “Tony the pony / So, that’s what they call you now? / When you’re free outside / So cold and hard and in control / And… there’s a free ride on Tony the pony”. Again, Johnny was the one who left the band, who wanted a change of direction and who, right after The Smiths split up, started playing with loads of different people (Bryan Ferry, Talking Heads, The Pretenders, Bernard Sumner…) and that would make any control freak (such as Morrissey undoubtedly is) very bitter very quickly. He’s basically calling Johnny a (music) slut, who anyone can try and hire for a while. “Oh, why do you always want to stop me / From doing the things in life that make me happy? / And when I’m outside with friends, laughing loudly / Why do you always want to stop me?” and immediately after: “Oh, I would never / I would never”. This reads like a dialogue, with Tony the pony first asking Morrissey why he always has to spoil his fun and Morrissey replying that he would never dream of doing such a thing. Right at the end though, the bitterness comes right through with: “I will never say I told you so / or how I knew that something bad would happen to you / I don’t want to say I told you so / oh, but Tony, I told you so!”. I wish there were more specific references (like… what did happen to Tony that was so bad?), but I feel like my initial point still stands.

The Loop → Sing Your Life b-side, the lyrics are a plea for someone to call him if he needs him. “So one day, when you’re bored / By all means call / Because you can do / But you might not get through”. I find the last line particularly interesting because it reveals that Morrissey’s professed availability has an expire date after all. As for the identity of this plea’s addressee, I’m just gonna quote Mozipedia: “The singer’s short message to an old friend telling them ‘by all means call me’ and inevitably interpreted by Smiths romantics as being directed towards Marr.” Apparently, Morrissey was especially proud of this song, even calling it his favourite at the time.

Your Arsenal

You’re Gonna Need Someone On Your Side → This is another one which I have doubts on (the lyrics are so vague they could be about anyone, really), but Verse 2 is the one I find the most interesting: “Someone kindly told me that you’d wasted eight of nine lives / Oh, give yourself a break before you break down / You’re gonna need someone on your side”. Johnny was known to be a workaholic, even compromising his own health by devoting all of his time to any project he was working on. He also mentioned how alcohol and drugs became a problem for him in the 90s, how he used them to cope with stress, and by this time he was working with Bernard Sumner on Electronic, so my guess is that they were leading quite a hectic lifestyle. Considering him and Morrissey were still not talking to each other, it would make sense for Morrissey to know what he was up to through friends they had in common and if they had told him Johnny was still working himself to the point of exhaustion, it would make sense for him to get worried about him, hence this song, which is about being supportive through concern for someone. The other interesting part is the ending: “And here I am! / Well, you don’t need to look so pleased”. It feels like Morrissey knows the other person wouldn’t necessarily want his support, even though that doesn’t stop him from providing it, hoping the other person might come around eventually.

Tomorrow → The reason I’m including it on this list is this part: “All I ask of you is one thing that you’ll never do / Would you put your arms around me? / I won’t tell anybody.” which, even though the connection is tenuous, reminds me of this bit from by Grand Central Station… “I am lonely. I cannot be a female saint. I want the one I want. He is the one I picked out from the world. I picked him out in cold deliberation. But the passion was not cold. It kindled me. It kindled the world. Love, love, give my heart ease, put your arms round me, give my heart ease. Feel the little bastard.” It could be about Johnny or it could be about someone else entirely. At this point, some time had passed since The Smiths’ demise and who knows what Morrissey had been exactly up to (and with whom)? The one thing I’m quite sure of is that, considering how much he took from it, Morrissey used By Grand Central Station… as a way to express and sublimate his conflicting feelings towards Johnny (I might make a separate, more in-depth analysis on that in the future).

Vauxhall and I (Vauxhall is both an area of London noted for its gay clubs AND a British car manufacturer, so it looks like Morrissey’s car kink is still alive and well).

Billy Budd → from Mozipedia: “Taking its title from the 1960 film Billy Budd, based upon the posthumously published novella of Moby Dick author Herman Melville, Morrissey uses the term as a playful nickname for a long-standing and long-suffering companion. As he describes, their relationship provokes public ridicule and discrimination, so much so that Morrissey comically volunteers to have his legs amputated as a sacrifice for Billy’s freedom. The elusive nature of the lyrics offers few clues as to the identity of ‘Billy Budd’ beyond the mention of ‘12 years on’. Since the song was released in 1994 (though recorded in 1993) the line was interpreted by many as a reference to Johnny Marr whom he ‘took up with’ 12 years earlier in 1982. This theory is somewhat compounded by the outrageously spooky coincidence that in 1888 Melville published a collection of poetry titled John Marr and Other Sailors. The song also includes what appears to be another fleeting citation from one of Morrissey’s favourite sources, Elizabeth Smart’s By Grand Central Station… ([‘they intercepted our glances because of] what was in our eyes’)”. There’s also an audio floating around in which Morrissey changes the lyrics from “but now it’s 12 years on” to “now it’s 15 years on” in 1997, 15 years after he met Johnny. As for the Melville references, I highly recommend you go and read his ‘John Marr’ poem in its entirety, but this is my favourite part: - I yearn as ye. But rafts that strain, Parted, shall they lock again? Twined we were, entwined, then riven, Ever to new embracements driven, Shifting gulf-weed of the main! And how if one here shift no more, Lodged by the flinging surge ashore? Nor less, as now, in eve's decline, Your shadowy fellowship is mine. Ye float around me, form and feature:-- Tattooings, ear-rings, love-locks curled;

  Speedway → from Mozipedia: “The detail that Johnny Marr once worked at a speedway in his teens is enough to satisfy some theorists that the song is a coded address to the ex-Smiths guitarist, ignoring the fact that at the time of recording Morrissey and Marr were on cordial terms”. Personally, I don’t agree with this (partial) dismissal. The fact that they were on good terms at the time doesn’t mean that everything between them had necessarily been solved. I’d like to focus on this part, specifically: “I could have mentioned your name / I could have dragged you in / Guilt by implication, by association / I’ve always been true to you / In my own strange way / I’ve always been true to you / In my own sick way / I’ll always stay true to you”. Let’s go back to Billy Budd for a moment: “I said, Billy Budd / I would happily lose both of my legs / Oh, if it meant you could be free”. Free from what, exactly? From expectations? From life itself? Looks like Johnny/Billy Budd had a secret burden weighing down on him, and now onto Speedway: “I could have mentioned your name” in regards to what? “Guilt by implication, by association” so, the burden Johnny/Billy Budd carried was also shared by Morrissey? And what could be so heinous, so scandalous as to require this eternal silent loyalty? Could it be that the relationship between Johnny and Morrissey went deeper than everyone thought or liked to admit? Could it be that they shared a bond which wasn’t just professional or even friendly, but that bordered instead on all-consuming, romantic obsession? He then says that, in his own “strange way”, he’s always been loyal to him. The way he sings it though, putting quite a bit of emphasis on these two specific words, makes me think he’s hinting to Strangeways Here We Come, which both him and Johnny claimed was their best album and also the last one they recorded together. Talking about the song, he said: “I believe in my loyalty which is as developed as possible.” So at the end, when he goes: “In my own sick way / I’ll always stay true to you” it looks like whatever happens, the secret they share is so big and important it has to stay hidden no matter what. Morrissey is reassuring him that, if it ever gets out, it won’t be because of him. “All of the rumours keeping me grounded / I never said, I never said / That they were completely unfounded.” “And all those lies, written lies, twisted lies / Well, they weren’t lies, they weren’t lies, they weren’t lies.” According to Mozipedia: “It was only a decade later that Morrissey ended all further debate by admitting, somewhat flippantly, that the lyrics were ‘probably’ just his way of winding up his detractors at the time.” We all know that Morrissey has been at the center of many a storm throughout his career, but what’s the oldest one, the one that has been the most recurring, the one most journalists seem to always come back to, in the end? His sexuality. His sexual and romantic relationships (or lack thereof). His self-admitted celibacy, right at the beginning of his career, which immediately set him apart from the rest of his colleagues and sparked instant curiosity. The vagueness, the hints, the lack of evidence. Is he gay? Bisexual? Asexual? Or really just hopeless when it comes to human connection? When they don’t have a definite answer, some people invent it, even if it’s just to make things more interesting. So, there you have it. Journalists creating rumours out of thin air just to sell a few more papers. Journalists who encourage endless speculations on the most private aspects of an individual’s life. His lyrics are dissected, his friendships scrutinised just to find that final puzzle piece, the one which will make everyone go: “Ah, finally, there it is! I knew he was!”. But more often than not, Morrissey ends up beating them at their same game. He muddies the waters, he hides his tracks. Many of the songs which people could argue are about Johnny are released as b-sides. Is this really a coincidence? To me, this song represents closure. It’s Morrissey’s way of saying: ‘Look, I know we’ve been through a lot but, no matter what, I will protect you. I won’t rat you out’. At the time, it looked like Morrissey had finally found love with Jake Walters, his driver, and I think most of this record and the stuff he wrote after is about him. But if Johnny was his first real love, then this sounds like the final vent, the definite acknowledgment of what has been, before leaving the past behind for greener pastures.

You Are The Quarry

Never Played Symphonies → B-side of Irish Blood, English Heart, the lyrics are about Morrissey laying on his metaphorical deathbed and looking at all the people who cared about him, but he’s not able to see them because he’s focused on the Never Played Symphonies of the title, which are the people he didn’t get to be with. “You were one, you meant to be one / And you jumped into my face and laughed / And kissed me on the cheek and then were gone forever… not quite”. This is a bit of a reach, but there’s a gif floating around from an old movie of The Smiths backstage in Sheffield in 1984 where Johnny and Morrissey are looking at the camera, then Johnny leans into Morrissey as if he’s about to kiss him on the cheek, but Morrissey raises his hands and points at him, stopping him. I don’t know for sure if he wrote this whole song with Johnny in mind, but that was the first thing I thought upon reading that line. Also, that final “… not quite” becomes significant if you think about their relationship post-Smiths. They spent years not talking to each other, then they made up and were on good terms for a while, then there was the whole Joyce trial and they grew distant once again. But even if Johnny has been gone from Morrissey’s life for quite some time, he has never really gone, if you know what I mean. And he probably never will be, because their shared history is impossible to ignore. The final part: “You were one, you knew you were one / And you slipped right through my fingers / No not literally but metaphorically / And now you’re all I see as the light fades.” makes me think that whatever happened between them, even if it was physical, was mostly felt on Morrissey’s part (it reminds me of that quote in his Autobiography, “It was probably nothing, but it felt like the world”). The reason I think this is about Johnny is that “you’re all I see as the light fades”, as if to say: the light has finally gone out, and now it’s just you.

World Peace Is None Of Your Business

Forgive Someone → a bonus track on the deluxe edition, it sounds like Morrissey’s been reminiscing on past grievances. “Betray you with a sword / I would slit my own throat first of all, I will”. This reminds me of Speedway’s repeated declarations of eternal loyalty. “The black peat of the hills / When I was still ill”. This has to be a reference to The Smiths’ song Still Ill, even though “the black peat of the hills” also reminds me of These Things Take Time: “… and the hills are alive with celibate cries”. It’s like he’s thinking about his late adolescence, when he was lonely and depressed, before Johnny came to save him. “And then recall if you can / How all this even began / Forgive someone”. This looks like Morrissey is asking Johnny to think about how their legacy came to be and to forgive him for any mistakes he made. “Shorts and supports and faulty shower heads / At track and field we dreamt of our beds / In the bleachers you sit with your legs spread, smiling / ‘Here’s one thing you’ll never have’”. I feel like Morrissey’s past car kink has been replaced by a runner kink, especially considering the fact he later wrote List of the Lost, in which the main characters are track runners. The final, repeated “Our truth will die with me” reminds me once again of Speedway’s ending: “In my own sick way, I’ll always stay true to you”. In conclusion, whatever happened between Johnny and him will remain between the two of them, at least until Morrissey is alive.

[epicmurderlizards]

I can't remember if I've already sent this ask, but just in case I haven't, Connor and Abby for the angsty ship meme thingy??

You have not already sent this! So here we go!

send me a ship and i’ll tell you:

Who is more likely to get injured doing small tasks?Um, always Connor. I love this boy, but he’s a disaster. He can and will find ways to get hurt doing things that no human being has ever managed to get hurt doing. Boy probably gets a concussion while building a pillow fort.

Who worries more about the other?Pre-Cretaceous? Connor. He knows that Abby is a very capable person, but he’s also hyper-aware of how dangerous their job is and that being smart and competent is not always enough to keep you alive while doing it. And that’s not to say that Abby doesn’t worry about him, too, Connor is just more prone to obvious anxiety about it than she is.

Post-Cretaceous they’re about even. Their experiences, especially some of the ones from my head canons, have made them fairly paranoid about losing each other and while that relaxes a little bit over time, it never really goes away completely.

Who is more afraid about the other leaving them?Connor for sure. As soon as they got back from the Cretaceous, Connor started worrying that Abby had only been with him because he was the only man on Earth and while Abby quickly shut that line of thinking down, he’s still afraid that she might find something better one day.

Abby, on the other hand, never worried about Connor intentionally leaving her until Philip and April started getting between them. She’s a little less sure of herself now.

Who is more likely to leave? (for any reason)Ironically, Connor. This is just canon and it’s so funny to me? All that time he spent chasing her and ultimately when it comes down between her and his work, he pulls away from her. And I hate it, but I think if they had tried a little harder, Philip and April might have successfully split them up.

Abby, on the other hand, seems almost willing to let the world burn for three more seconds with Connor.

Who is more likely to drunkenly confess?Who needs to be drunk when you can scream your love confession in your love interest’s face while trying to pull her up the side of a cliff? Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

Who is more likely to push the other away? (for any reason)Again, we saw Connor do this in canon, so chances are, if someone else like Philip managed to get in his head, he might do it again. Luckily, Abby will let someone take advantage of Connor again over her cold, dead body.

Who picks fights more often?Abby is way more confrontational than Connor. She starts and finishes most of their fights.

Who usually apologizes first?Connor. He’s a people pleaser by nature and will often apologize just so he doesn’t have to sleep on the couch, though Abby will usually admit that there is blame to share when he does.

Who is more likely to withhold their feelings for the other?Abby. For three seasons.

Who is more likely to lash out at the other?Abby again. Like most kids who grow up in bad situations, she struggles a lot with emotional control, particularly when it comes to anger. If she wants to have a fight, you are having a fight, though she will feel guilty when she notices what she’s doing.

Who gets more jealous?Abby has been getting jealous of other people showing an interest in Connor since before she even knew she liked him and figuring out she’s in love with him has not helped that at all.

Who is more likely to support the other in a relationship with someone else “as long as they’re happy”?Connor, as proved by the fact that he tried to talk Abby out of being mad at Stephen for already having a girlfriend despite wanting Abby to date him instead! Connor would suffer indefinitely if it meant Abby got to be happy.

[kitkatt0430]

Was not careful enough with my fanfiction-y thoughts while re-watching Primeval and had an old plot bunny resurface.

What if after Stephen’s death, Helen went back for one last hurrah with him in the past.  She’s got access to future tech, so probably something in there lets her look more like her younger self so that she can show up the night she was really headed to the Forest of Dean and her anomaly related destiny.  Or maybe it happens after Nick dies because when Nick ‘disappoints’ Helen, she always goes running to Stephen and it’s too ingrained a habit to break even now with both men dead.

Helen doesn’t think there will be consequences.  Even though she has consistently underestimated Nick and misjudged how far she can push Stephen, Helen still thinks she can get away with this without altering the timeline.

Except it does alter the timeline.  Because Helen disappears immediately after sleeping with Stephen, that makes him the last person to see her.  And he sees what Nick’s going through and he’s just so, so guilty about it.  More guilty than he felt about cheating with her in the original timeline because of the timing of it all.  Guilty enough to step forward, tell Nick the truth.

And Nick is pissed off of course.  He suspected Helen of cheating.  It’s probably not the first time she’s done it and he knows she does it for the thrill.  The challenge.  And he absolutely hates that she abused her position of power over a student.  But... he’s also impressed by Stephen.  Because as guilty as Stephen feels, Nick thinks it must’ve taken courage too to come forward like that.

It cements their friendship in a way it wasn’t in the other timeline.  (Or if I’m feeling like writing slash, it leads them to eventually hooking up once Stephen is no longer Nick’s student.) 

I’d probably want to work in the Claudia Brown/Jenny Lewis change in reverse somehow.  And season 2 plays out so differently because when Helen tries to use her sleeping with Stephen in the past as a wedge between Stephen and Nick in the present, it fails spectacularly.  Stephen never doubts Nick about the gun jamming during the raptor attack and all the little things that led to their falling out during season 2 actually leads them to figuring out that Helen is involved with whoever the traitor at the ARC is.

It winds up leading to Stephen not dying.  

They still get Sarah in season 3, and Danny too, who annoys Claudia as much as he annoyed Jenny.  I didn’t ship Nick/Jenny or Nick/Claudia particularly much (saw them as flirty friends, but never shipped them especially since Nick kept calling Jenny by Claudia’s name which was kind of awful of him), but I kind of had the impression Danny had a bit of a crush on Jenny?  So maybe Danny/Claudia would happen since by this point of story we’d have Claudia instead of Jenny.  

But there’s also the Nick clone and Nick’s death to contend with in season 3.  And Helen hedged her bets in this timeline, clones both Nick and Stephen.  But there’s too much of the originals in her clones.  The Nick clone won’t hurt Stephen.  Tells him to run like the clone told original Nick in the episode.  Stephen clone is still in the building after the explosion and saves original Nick when he goes back inside for the device Helen wanted to know about so badly.

Helen still gets away, but only the clones die.  But not before clone Stephen tells Nick when/where the cloning complex is hidden and asks Nick to stop her from creating more expendables.  Helen’s programming means they’re born brainwashed with no purpose but to obey her and die for her and it’s no life worth living.  He doesn’t want anymore clones like him and clone Nick and the Cleaner army.

So that’s what they do.  They’re still there, destroying the cloning facility, in fact, when Helen returns from her last night with Stephen, still thinking she’s in the timeline where they’re both dead.

She... freaks out when she learns they’re still alive.  Just completely looses it and winds up taken into custody because she cannot understand what’s happened.  She figures it out quickly enough once she’s calmed down and paced her new cell a few dozen times, but that just makes her wonder how many times she’s changed the timeline and never noticed.  And it unnerves her.

Has she contributed to the downfall of humanity and the rise of the unnatural predators of the future?  The very thing she’s accused ARC of facilitating... how much is she also responsible?

Helen makes for a fascinating villain in the show, in a large part because every gap between seasons is clearly longer for her than anyone else.  And every time she learns more about the end of humanity, she breaks a little more.  The woman from season one was a threat but not necessarily evil.  The Helen from season 2 is manipulative, using everyone and anyone to further her enigmatic goal of discovering specific information about the future.  Certainly her use of clones as disposable people pushed her across the moral event horizon for me.  By season 3 she’s unhinged, murdering even Nick in a desperate ploy to stop ARC and when that fails she attempts to prevent the rise of human evolution as we know it.  

But it’d be nice to see her get rehabilitated in prison.  Maybe she realizes the problem isn’t necessarily the ARC, but Christine Johnson and people like her who keep trying to use the ARC and the anomalies for nefarious purposes.  But she’s still convinced the ARC is ultimately responsible for the anomalies and eventually explains that reasoning, the evidence, when and where to find it.  And of course she’s still manipulating behind the scenes and she never truly admits to being wrong (because Helen’s obsessed with being the brightest, smartest, most knowledgable, and she could never live with herself if she admitted to truly being wrong), but we could have some very interesting enemy mine situations with her. 

At some point Helen probably would escape and get herself killed dramatically, maybe with some uncertainty surrounding her death and whether or not it was really her or she faked it somehow.  Because, honestly, the best villains never die but live on through the question marks they leave behind.  

I’m not really sure whether the season 4/5 elements would get included and I never have actually watched the spin off that ran for a season.  (Though I’ll be remedying that after I complete my rewatch.)  I did like the idea of there being more people like Helen who were displaced through time and learned how to navigate the anomalies to travel from time period to time period as they pleased.  And I liked that there was a faction from the future trying to avert the apocalypse by infiltrating ARC in the present... but I also felt like both story arcs (hehehe, sorry) were introduced way too late.  So if I were to use them, I’d start at least seeding the story lines earlier.  Especially the future faction.  (They did their audience no favors introducing that arc in the webisodes that aired before season 4.)

Dunno if I’ll get around to writing this one as I’ve got enough Flash related WIPs to worry about, but... every time I rewatch this show the same plot bunny hops out of hiding, so at least this time I’ve written down the gist of it.