#this was supposed to be a quick character study rewatch and now it's turned into the beginning of my wally deserved better crusade wtf

[petrichoravellichor]

Oh my god, I’m rewatching 12x12/Stuck in the Middle With You, and just. Poor Wally, jfc.

So, for those who don’t remember, Wally is a hunter that Mary met and that she brings in to help get the Colt. This guy:

And this poor, poor man has absolutely no fucking idea what he’s walked into, because no sooner does he meet Sam and Dean and Cas than Sam turns to Cas and is like, “So, what, no luck with Lucifer’s kid?” because Cas has been searching for Kelly Kline (who at this time is pregnant with Jack) and Wally’s face while Cas answers is just 

and then once Cas is done speaking Wally’s like

and then the camera cuts to Cas and Sam and Dean who are basically like

at which point new-to-the-crew Wally realizes that THEY’RE NOT FUCKING JOKING.

And then Dean’s basically all “Okay, let’s get going” and they all turn to leave and poor Wally is just bringing up the rear like

and they NEVER FUCKING EXPLAIN IT TO HIM.

[huebris808]

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry. 

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years. 

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!” 

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why? 

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place… 

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr… 

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…” 

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

..

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

[garrothromeave]

the hell is mystreet season 6??

(warning, long post ahead)

ok so before i start this

1) ive never posted shiiiit on tumblr before so watch me suffer, im just here to talk about stuff that my friends who dont know anything about aphmau have to listen to me rant about for hours on end

2) i havent seen mystreet in like years (except season 3, i watch that frequently since im laurance and shadow knight deprived) so please bear with me because i might be completely wrong on this lol. it’s just like, pointing out things i remember

3) im sure someones already talked about this but who cares

4) im gonna do this stupid thing where i just explain myself a bit at first, if you dont want to read that just skip to the part where you see “the actual thingy:” in bold and italics 

5) mild disclaimer; i am completely aware that jessica is not a professional writer. i know that she did her best to appeal to her fans, and honestly, respect for that. while this post will come off as aggressive and probably look like hate, that’s not my intention in the slightest. it’s just... intense criticism. im sure y’all probably already know that, but yeah, just stating that anyways. i do believe that jess is doing her best, and in no way do i want to dismiss any hard work she’s done. that being said; prepare for a very strongly opinionated post.

haha watch there be 10000+ typos in this making me look like a complete dumbass

ok here we go 

one of the main reasons i stopped watching aphmau back in 2017 was the mess that was season 4. like, in the first few episodes of the emerald secret, i thought “woah!! this is kinda cool, im a sucker for mystery!” because of course i was, it was something new and something exciting. the only problem i had with it at the time was kim, but that’s just because i always found her annoying and out of place. i just didn’t understand why garroth dragged her along and honestly i still don’t to this day BUT, moving on.

anyways, as the season progressed, 13 year old me was of course just “:0!!” the entire time--that is, up until the reveal of the main villain. i remember watching the episode, seeing the reveal of ein, and then stopping. like, just for a quick break, but i was still just overwhelmingly disappointed. like, and this was the time when pdh was airing and ein just got made alpha (i think?) and i had really really liked eins character in pdh. either way, that really sucked and actually opened my eyes to a lot of things.

one of the main things bein’ the fact that this was supposed to be a slice of life kinda series that decided to take a turn to a more edgy kinda approach. which, i guess i regularly wouldnt mind? but seeing as mcd was kinda bein neglected at the time it just didnt sit right with me. BUT WHATEVER, point is i stopped watching mystreet all together at the end of season 4.

like, a whole year later my brother tells me that shit’s getting intense in season 5 + 6 of mystreet, and my brilliant self decided to give it a shot--but i refused to watch all of season 5, so i only stepped in when ein made an appearance. so whenever that was, that’s where i picked up because i didnt care enough to see 

and y’know--i honestly didn’t hate it at first. in fact, i found it oddly cool. it wasn’t enough to get me into aphmau again, but it was enough to where i was intrigued. i dont know why, but i never watched the finale, so i didnt see the ending until just a few weeks ago--but back then, i thought it was neat. looking back on it however... im just so confused. 

side note: only got back into aphmau this time around because of mcd. mainly because like, i adore the first season and the first half of the second season. and being nearly 18 now, im a lot more appreciative of plot and well-written characters n junk. 

the actual thingy:

ok back on track. imma stop spilling out my story of how i got back into aphmau, and lets just skip to what rewatching mcd made me realize of season 6′s plot and shit:

-emmalyn. how the fuck does ghost even remotely exist? if she’s emmalyn as claimed, then why have we already seen emmalyn in the mystreet universe alive? look i get that creators can do whatever they want with their stories but at the same time please provide some sort of explanation good god. and maybe they did and i just havent seen it, so if there is one--let me know. but until that day imma just sit here confused as fuck

-ok so imma just be real, the whole ‘ultima’ thing is just... not great. in my opinion, anyways. like... i saw someone mention this in another post, but if this ultima stuff was like, a really big deal, why isnt it mentioned in mcd? though i suppose since its a curse of sorts, it could be later on past the time period in which mcd takes place--but even then, how did it manage to make its way into aaron’s family bloodline? 

-WHY IS EVERYONE AT STARLIGHT ITS JUST SO CONVINIENT like what happened to this place being the most expensive shit on the planet or whatever, and how the gang happens to run into like, the werewolf trio and blaze and kai and guy and nate all of these people like god damn life doesnt WORK LIKE THAT 

-im sorry but turning people into relics? thats... thats the best you could come up with? plus, like, how does that even work? in mcd it’s established that relics are separate entitles that choose their wielder, based on a ‘personal’ connection (being a descendent of a previous wielder) or if they’re a good match personality and (i think?) moral wise. so the whole turning-people-into-relics doesnt make much sense to be honest. 

-irene really over here using her god powers to only keep her friends alive like god damn not a great god if you ask me 

-can i talk about how incredibly predictable aphmaus death was? like i just kinda sat there waiting for it to happen and when it did i literally went “haha! wonder when she’ll be revived” because god forbid we actually kill off characters 

-when aphmau + demon warlock fought in the irene dimension there was no passage of time whatsoever in the real world whiiiiiiiiich really bothers me because they fought in there for at least a few minutes

-speaking of aphmau and the demon warlocks fight does it bother anyone else that it had to be aaron who took over the fight?? like we get it hes the big protector blah blah blah but god damn it wouldve been cooler if aphmau had fought this battle as her. aaron fighting this battle was so underwhelming

-...love. like, thats the only thing thats needed to break out of a forever potion? love? LIKE YEAH, GOOD GUYS GOTTA WIN SOMEHOW, but its just so cliche and overdoneeee

-oh yeah and also when travis went bonkers and became the demon warlock or whatever, why’d he only take over katelyn and garroth?? like, zane had been influenced by the potions in the past as well? DONT GET ME WRONG--i do love some good brother edge, but uh, the demon warlock was just bein kinda a dumbass by not possessing zane too just sayin’

-can aaron please go to fucking jail for mass murder now like holy shit, he just got sent home on a fuckin boat. also why did blaze forgive him for killing him thats not even remotely realistic. then again, nothing in mystreet has ever been realistic when it comes to characters and motives and personalities, (cough katelyn being actually abusive and travis being an actual pervert) but yknow whatever

-katelyn and kawaii chan literally added nothing to the plot whatsoever. like lets be real, katelyn lost her personality the moment season 5 started and kawaii chan just kinda sits there :I

-ok im sorry this was bound to come up but cmon guys imagine laurances potential if he was in season 6 like god damn this is beyond maddening. AND YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A REALLY REALLY COOL PARRALLEL?? IF IT WAS LAURANCE WHO SNAPPED GARROTH OUT OF HIS MIND CONTROL THING, because it would mimic laurance’s speech to get garroth to snap out of his rage in season 1, episode 100 of minecraft diaries. like how fuckin rad would that have been? missed opportunity 

-also?? why does kim/ghost know magicks?? like, if i remember correctly, emmalyn is a scholar--not someone who knew magicks. i mean, i guess research? study?? but its been established that knowing how magicks works =/= being able to use magicks. i dunno, just doesnt seem right i guess. maybe its explained, i wouldnt know (yes i know that makes me look like a dick leave me alone)

-melissa should have stayed dead. LIKE, NO, ITS NOT AS SIMPLE AS “haha it takes more than a few bullets to kill me”??? look ive got nothing wrong with melissa (cough lie cough) but yknow it would have just been cool a character... stay dead? for once? its just too fuckin cliche that shes alive god damn

-can i also just say the only good thing that came out of season 6 was travis’ dads sacrifice like damn that made me actually sad

-howww was lucinda turned into a relic. or yknow, anyone else? like im sure they explain it better in the actual show i just dont remember, but its just that easy? turning anyone into a relic? granted, a normal person wouldnt be able to produce a good relic, but idk man. IM JUST SAYING; that the only really powerful relics that aphmau should have been able to wield is the one that aaron + zane produced because shad relic and esmund relic moment. lucinda isnt even like, connected to a divine warrior. ALSO, another point, if its seriously that powerful of a relic getting one from just a magic user like lucinda, why go through the trouble? i mean i guess ofc youd want the “all powerful” one that the ultima produces but i mean damn whats the point

-ok this is just going to bother me but in one of the episodes (i think might have been in season 5 actually) where that like, guardian dude was chasing aphmau and zane and at one point they split up and the dude just chuckles at zane diverting paths and goes under his breath “youre not the important one here”, suggesting that aphmau somehow is? first of all, id argue that any ro’meave is significantly more important than aphmau was, especially not knowing much about her other than that shes with aaron. i might be missing some bits an pieces, but if i was that dude id forget about aphmau and go after zane 

-killing off derek for shock factor sucked, and i know the moment was supposed to be really sad because like “oh :( aarons dad is sacrificing himself for his son” but lets be real dereks still was a shitty father and i dont think his reasons for doing what he did was very good at all

-less about plot or more like: why the absolute fuck did the gang bring kim along instead of, oh i dont know, a life-long friend? like, laurance or dante maybe?? im sure its explained, i never saw aphmaus year or most of season 5, but god DAMN id hate to be apart of this friend group AND GOD LIKE, imagine reconnecting with an old friend who ends up getting closer to your best friends and taking priority in their lives over you (cough laurance) like god damn lol

-im just going to preface this one with: i dont remember everything that’s happened, so if im wrong i apologize in advance--but (you actually can correct me if im wrong and please do) didnt like, irene reincarnate her friends in order to give them better lives? I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS TRUE, ITS JUST WHAT I REMEMBER--however, if im correct, then:

a. why the hell would she bring back someone like zane, or gene, or ivy, etc.

b. why the hell do they all have the same exact names? first and last? again, im aware that the whole mystreet+mcd tie wasn’t originally supposed to be there, but i dont think that means such a coincidence can be excused? its just a bit much if you ask me.

c. why the hell is the fact that (as much as i literally hate this) aaron is a decedent of shad being ignored? like, you’d think that something like this would be something thats actually important, or something the demon warlock couldve taken advantage of. or are we completely erasing every other connections to divine warriors besides aphmau + irene? because even if irene did reincarnate them or do whatever it is she did, does she even have the power to sever the connections between them and their ancestors? my guess is, no.

d. speaking of irene why on earth was aphmau able to talk to/see irene, they’re literally the same person are they not? did she like, fuckin reincarnate herself without actually doing it?? BUT--i will give it to them, the demon warlock did refer to aphmau as something along the lines of being “one of the 3 parts of her broken soul” or something like that. however, my point still remains. also what are the other two did i miss that or is it never explained

now; if irene in fact did not ‘reincarnate’ her friends then please ignore that little bit right there :)

but yes, those are a few of the problems i have with season 6 off the top of my head. i would go into like, season 4 and 5 more as well, but i honestly didnt feel like it. at some point i might go into other things, like how important laurance could have been to the plot of these later seasons, or HELL, even dante. i might also go into what could have made season 4, 5, and 6 actually good--maybe... a rewrite? perhaps? but im getting too far ahead of myself, so i just leave you with this for now.

and i know that as soon as i post this 15 more things are just going to pop into my head BUT im going to try and not edit this post because why stress myself with that even more

anyways thank you for coming to my tedtalk 

[headofhelios]

Ok I am a single follower but I like hannibal tv but would enjoy ur movie thoughts I like some of the books too and have been meaning to get around to the movies 😳😳

OKAY I'M EDITING A READMORE ONTO THIS LOL I REALIZED THATS SOMETHING I CAN DO! so now my incredibly waaayyy too long answer abt my thoughts on 2002 will is under there. apologies bc this is less "movie thoughts" and more "2002 movie will thoughts" but well thats how the chips fell

GOD okay sooo for the record i am reading the red dragon book and am like 7 or 8 chapters in and full transparency im not like. enjoying it lol. the book pisses me off with its misogyny (all the women in it are either dead or it feels like you're supposed to think theyre Selfish Bitches or theyre just there for like. bizarre and uncomfortable sexual moments like the guys talking abt that woman in the elevator, or that one part of mrs. leeds diary which is like. i guess could be there to Show Her Humanity or whatever but 1. there are more ways to do that 2. the book doesnt seem particularly concerned with her humanity considering she's barely even given a first name and so far the novel hasnt seemed to disapprove of how will thinks of her as a possession of her husband) and its inconsistency with will's most important character trait or whatever (he's so intensely, extremely empathetic towards EVERYONE, even serial killers, which makes him really good at finding them! and he can never turn this off, to the point where every time he has a conversation with someone, he ends up mimicking the way they talk, even if he tries to stop! but also he never empathizes with the victims or HIS OWN FUCKING WIFE? HELLO? so it really feels less like "extremely strong empathy for everyone that he cant control" and more like "he can empathize with serial killers extremely well and also other people if we want to Make A Point in one scene instead of letting the point show through the whole book") BUT UHHH ANYWAY. MOVIE THOUGHTS. THE MOVIE THOUGHTS YOU ASKED FOR COMING RIGHT UP!

okay this is what i am worried will either 1. draw annoying tv will graham stans to my blog like flies or 2. end with me being hanged in the town square BUT. it must be said. i prefer 2002 red dragon will graham to tv will graham. and quite frankly? so far? i think 2002 red dragon will graham is better than book will graham. i cannot lie.

my reasoning: because 2002 will actually empathizes with more people than serial killers and his boss! y'know! like you'd assume someone with constant extreme empathy would! the difference between the first scene with molly in the book vs in the movie are SO striking to me now that i've read that part of the novel. in the novel he seems very... rough, i guess, and like he doesnt care about molly's worries. he doesnt seem to see things from her perspective, which especially feels like a kick to the gut because MOLLY! SEES! THINGS! FROM! HIS! PERSPECTIVE!!! she literally empathizes with him more than he does with her! what the fuck! MEANWHILE in the movie, he does seem to care about her. his assurances that he wont get too involved seem like assurances rather than him trying to get her off his back. he hugs her and tells her he loves her and i actually believe that yeah, he loves her, he knows she's worried about him, and he wants to comfort her and ease her worries. and the victims! AGAIN such a stark difference to me! in the book, will is like... uncomfortable empathizing w the red dragon, of course, but he doesnt seem to empathize with the victims all that much, ESPECIALLY not the women. he doesnt care about them. he sees them as possessions belonging to their husbands and its so fucking gross. despite already suspecting that the red dragon chooses families based on the women, he decides to waste time focusing on the husbands as a way of "asking permission to look at [their wives]." what the fuck? meanwhile in the film, he feels for the victims so much that he can barely even say that the kids were shot in bed! when he watches the tapes, he focuses on the women! because that's his fucking job!!! and we see him empathizing with them! wow!!

siiigh okay im gonna stop talking abt the book vs the movie now bc again im only like 8 chapters or so deep. but now we come to tv will vs. 2002 will, which is admittedly gonna be more subjective and part of that it bc i cant remember a whole lot of specifics from the show bc my memory is Very Bad. but anyway

let's get the shallow stuff out of the way. yes i prefer ed norton's face to hugh dancy's. call hugh dancy "gender" or whatever have your fun i support you and your right to call any blood covered man a gender but by god is that not even REMOTELY my experience. next shallow thing to get out of the way: ed norton's line delivery is like music to my FUCKING ears compared to hugh dancy's i am so sorry. like the jokes about will shaking like a damp chihuahua before taking 5 minutes to stutter out "he's killing them....... On Purpose, jack." are funny and all but christ i had SUCH a hard time watching the show bc of that im not lying. literally hearing 2002 will just say "he's not keeping them. he's eating them." nice and quick, matter of factly is better than well im actually gonna end that sentence there but you get the idea. like YESSS you little blonde bitch get to the point i love you!!!

OKAY NOW less shallow points but also less uhh idk man i just dont remember a lot of hannibal. but basically: after seeing how caring 2002 will is, i'm kind of... idk i'm just so over tv will and how abrasive and harsh he is in comparison. like i fell in LOVE with how vulnerable 2002 will is, how he feels like he cares deeply about the people around him (and honestly... idk i cant remember a moment in the hannibal tv series that made me feel the way i felt when 2002 will can't say "the kids were shot in their beds". it's like... yeah this is a guy who feels so deeply for everyone around him at all times. i believe that.) and i just dont remember getting that same feeling from tv will. i have been gently spoon fed the most excellent chocolate pudding and everything else in my memory is just a snack pack. i guess tv will has those moments (what comes to mind is when he brings gideon to hannibal's house and is crying and he says "please dont lie to me") but idk they just didnt really do for me what 2002 will does. and then their scenes with reba! wow! i rewatched the tv version after watching red dragon, bc the film version made me tear up, meanwhile the tv version i barely remembered and i wasnt sure if that was just bc of the different mindsets i was in while watching them or what. and ok i just rewatched the tv version again and like... yeah. it's the wills lol. i LOVEEE tv reba SO much she is giving everything in that scene!! she sounds so like... broken, both bc of dolarhyde's apparent suicide and bc of finding out who he was + what he was doing, she sounds so fragile and guilt ridden! she's amazing!! but will. idk. tv will's delivery just seems... idk this feels dumb to say but it sounds like writing. i admittedly LOVE the line "people who study this kind of thing say that he was trying to stop because you helped him." and his delivery there is good. but between tv "you didnt draw a freak, you drew a man w a freak on his back" and the 2002 version, the 2002 delivery seems more genuine while the tv delivery sounds rehearsed. idk overall the 2002 version of that conversation just makes me feel more? its like. idk i can feel the 2002 version gently holding my heart while the tv version is a scene that is nice in h/nnigram gifsets or w/e.

umm ok this is already suuuper long and my brain is getting a bit mushy so i'm gonna start wrapping it up lol. i'll probably compare book will and 2002 will again after i finish the book, and then i miiight rewatch hannibal, or at least parts of s3. but right now my thoughts are basically: book will is a fucking dick who has an easier time empathizing with serial killers than with his wife. tv will is a nothing girl after being so completely catered to + also idk he doesnt have the same fragility that i want from my wills now. and 2002 will is my little caramel apple. he has this delightful vulnerability and feels like he cares so much and empathizes with more people than serial killers and his boss and 4 people in a diner for one scene! 2002 will made me care about will graham! which is honestly kind of a feat!

[smallblueandloud]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 for the writing ask- I AM SO SORRY I COULDNT STOP!!! xoxo

aaaah these questions look SO GOOD thank you so much <3 <3 for this ask meme, which will be open all weekend!

1. tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

i pulled open all of my WIP google docs for this and my laptop started whirring ominously, lmao. this is going to be a Little Long but i love talking about my wips so who cares!! (under the cut because EXCERPTS)

guys and dolls but gay - very, very casual rewrite of guys and dolls if sky masterson was a woman. i’m loving how chill i’m being about this one because it’s so much fun to not have to worry how i’m going to write lyrics in a not-weird way and just focus on the story. this one’s first because it’s theoretically closest to being finished.

sky, laughing: “oh? people. all the people you turn down every day. well, i imagine there’s someone out there that’ll catch your eye.”

sarah, stiffening: “...yes, there will be.”

sky: “and what might this person be like?”

sarah: “he will not be a gambler, for one.”

sky does not miss the pointed pronoun. “i’m not interested in what he won’t be, i’m interested in what he will be.” she sits down on the desk, in a pointedly masculine pose, and sets her fedora next to her - at her most Hot Queer, basically. “how will you know when he gets to you?”

my fic for the aos rarepair fic exchange - i can’t give any plot or ship details, for obvious reasons, but it’s 1.3k and i’m having fun with it!

steven roadtrip of destiny - canon divergent fic set at the end of steven universe future where steven goes on a roadtrip instead of... canon. it deals with some heavy emotions and it’s also a character study so it’s tentatively shelved until i get around to rewatching suf. but i am projecting on steven like crazy and it’s really, really cathartic. it’s taught me a lot about myself too lmao.

He’s never been anonymous before. He kind of likes it. It means he can fold his arms on the table and put his head down without Pearl worrying about his posture, or someone asking him if something’s okay.

In the last few months, he’s grown to hate people asking him how he’s doing, or if he’s okay. He always ends up lying, because he doesn’t want to worry them, and he ends up feeling worse.

Probably because it’s more of him supporting other people without supporting himself.

He should have told someone how he was feeling. He should have reached out. Sadie could’ve helped him. Lars would’ve listened. Connie would have hugged him and then found him the appropriate mental health professional.

(God, Steven wants a hug. Also the appropriate mental health professional? Whoever that would be.)

untitled aos fic - i don’t want to give a lot of details because :eye emoji: and also i don’t know much about what the plot of this is going to be anyway, lmao. but here’s an excerpt:

daisy “that actor who doesn’t shut up about data harvesting” johnson (@daisyquake) tweeted: two weeks :eyes emoji:

Elena Rodriguez | Seven Cents S2 Streaming On Netflix Now! (@yoyorodriguez) retweeted and added: the problem with being friends with daisy is that you SHOULD have some insight into what her tweets mean but you still have no idea

Fitz (@justfitz) retweeted and added: Try being married to her

untitled star wars twins fic - because i am a total and massive nerd. i’m just kind of stuffing everything i have feels about from the post-anh era into this and planning on figuring it out later? i’m really loving talking about the culture of alderaan (and the culture of the survivors) and also i just love writing luke and leia’s relationship... so much......

(no excerpt for that one because i’ve basically posted all of it in various posts lmao)

aos ds9 au - i’ve posted a LOT about this already and i want to keep the plot a surprise but fsk is in this and married and half the cast is aliens, what else do you need in life.

“Good morning,” says Jemma, coming into the room with her hair wet and her uniform crooked. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi,” says Daisy, turning her face up for a kiss. Jemma obliges absently as she walks past, looking around the room.

“Has anyone seen my hair clip?”

“No,” say Fitz and Daisy in unison.

and of course, last but never least in my heart, chapter 3 of the magnum opus - writing this is on hold until my brain decides to stop hitting me over the head at every possible moment, but there’s like... 2k written so far? it’s. it’s going.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Coulson, and makes quick work of the right gauntlet. It’s only halfway through the left one that his fingers slow and he says, quietly, “Simmons designed these, didn’t she?”

She lets out a quick breath. “Yeah.”

He stays quiet for a few more seconds, finishing up the last of the straps, making sure they’re tight enough. Finally, he says, “She should be helping you with these.”

Daisy pulls her arms back and swallows down some words, or maybe a couple of feelings, or maybe a sob. “Yeah, well.”

2. tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

the last sentence of the magnum opus!!!!!!!!!!

no, lmao, i’m gonna try to be serious. i really, really want to write some librarians fic in the near future? also MORE OF THE SENSE8 AU. i’m DYING to write some stuff about that. especially sam’s cluster, for some reason? Let’s Make Him Suffer (Comedically)! one day i’m gonna finish that list of what cluster/situation each song is about and then it’ll be over for all of us!

3. what is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

i spent about eight months imagining a scene where riza hawkeye was really injured and mustang was holding her in his arms (basically the promised day scene but with more privacy) so does that count?

hmm, just for some other possibilities: glinda telling dorothy about elphaba, laura somehow seeing or speaking to natasha during catws, a good omens au of the good place (specifically the ”i don’t even like you!” / “you doooooooo” scene), kencyrath au of star wars (ESPECIALLY THIS ONE, except setting up the first scene alone would take 7k, but i want to talk about leia and luke and their MESSED UP TRUST ISSUES in this au).

oh, also, something about star trek tng where jean-luc and beverly and jack were in love and then jack died and picard left. more specifically a scene set during the pilot episode where jean-luc very cordially offers beverly the option to transfer off the enterprise, that he wouldn’t dream of holding it against her, and beverly very cordially telling jean-luc to go fuck himself. i want to write 30k of that broken triad. i want it so bad. i dream of that fic. maybe one day when i find myself with a completely empty month or two, i’ll binge all of tng and Write Some Stuff.

4. share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

since you and i have tww in common, i’m gonna do a tww fic! otherwise i’d have to reread literally every fic i’ve ever written, lmao.

(this is long but i put this post under the cut so i have RIGHTS. also consider this a sneak peek for the j/d fic in the sense8 au?)

“It’s okay,” says Helen. She sits for a moment in silence, seeming thoughtful. “The Congressman and I are in the same cluster,” she says eventually. “I’d- I supposed that’s easier on the Secret Service?”

“Yes,” says Donna. “The-”

She stops herself from saying anything further. President Bartlet and the First Lady aren’t exactly quiet about who’s in their cluster, especially with senior staff, but that doesn’t mean she should go talking about it in an unsecured room in LA, of all places.

To cover for her blunder, she gives up something else: “The same with Josh. They got really lucky with him, actually. It’s just him and me, so they won’t have to worry about anyone threatening the Chief of Staff through the barista in the local Starbucks.”

Helen looks up from the Ohio numbers she’d drifted back to, a slow smile creeping up on her face. “Josh is in your cluster?”

“Uh-” says Donna, feeling like national security wasn’t worth whatever she’s just blundered into. Oops. “Josh- Josh is my cluster, ma’am.”

She catches her mistake the second it’s out of her mouth, but Helen doesn’t call her on it, more focused on other revelations. “No wonder you two look at each other the way you do!” she says, sounding delighted. Donna shuts her eyes, praying for this to go away. It’s not that she’s ashamed of Josh - it’s just so, so complicated, and other people never think about how difficult it was. Still is.

i’m just... i really liked the idea of donna fumbling and having to reveal this to cover up for what else she was going to say? i don’t know why i’m so charmed by this. i think it’s because it would be impossible in the show - you can’t show what someone was going to say on television, not without a lot of setup and very careful scripting. it’s just a really fun situation to write about and i’m really proud of this conversation in general.

also helen santos was a dream to write and i love her a lot. i kind of want to write one of the fics in the series about her and her cluster solely because like... look at her. she’s a delight in literally every scene. i love her.

5. what character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

daisy johnson!!! i love writing daisy johnson!!!! she is the most adhd character i’ve ever written and i literally just have to transcribe my own inner monologue and it works perfectly!!!!!

Swing shift: 1600 hours to 2400 hours. Daisy always ends up getting back to her quarters at like 0030 hours, when Jemma is asleep and Fitz is reading some kind of technical journal. Then she has to eat replicated pizza, alone, and freshly replicated pizza is actually pretty hot but it feels cold at that time of night, like, spiritually.

6. what character do you have the most fun writing?

...whoops i literally just answered that lmao. uh. i also really love writing sky masterson in the guys and dolls fic? she’s just weaponized hot queerness in a suit and i love her for it. she is intentionally trying to seduce this repressed lesbian and it’s really funny and also really hot of her and it’s so much fun to write.

also, i wrote chidi for the tgp fic and it was possibly the most fun i’ve ever had with a pov, although that was also because i was purposefully trying to mimic the tone of the show. i still think that line about michael and a grenade is, like, the funniest i have ever been in my life. but chidi’s panic was surprisingly easy to write? all of tgp’s characters have such STRONG voices, it makes writing fic ridiculously easy as long as you don’t get stuck on a plot for six months.

7. what do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? would others agree?

oof, this one is ALWAYS tricky. uh? uhh?? i’m going to ruin everything by saying this but i basically alternate between the same two sentence structures and i am really frustrated about it. i also alternate between the same two styles of endings and i always use the same beginning (set scene, main character pov, thoughts-as-exposition, back to scene).

BUT ON A MORE POSITIVE NOTE i like to talk about emotions and relationships and character development!! i have my “queer subtext goggles” superglued to my face, lmao. i like to think about how characters must have felt about things in canon and how it must’ve influenced them. i like making people deal with the consequences of their actions, especially how it’s influenced they themself. i also just really, really like writing people who love each other, whether it’s romantic or platonic or anything in between. i just want them to be happy! i just want them to stick together! doesn’t matter what fandom, i stand by it.

[whump-my-dear-watson]

Whumptober day no.27+28+altno.16

"bound" "ransom" "beaten"

Character: Malcolm Bright

Fandom: Prodigal Son

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Malcolm is taken for ransom, but his captor isn’t after money…

A/N:  ok I really love writing for this show, but apparently, I can only write about Prodigal Son whump in a warehouse? Idk man, I always come back to it. Anyway, enjoy this one lads! 

 Warnings: uh blood, capture (I mean look at the prompts), depressed Malcolm (what’s new? lol) near-death experience, the last part is really heavy on the subject of death but (spoiler) he doesn’t die :P, hrmm besides just generally being whumpy I can’t think of any other warnings (for sure let me know if I should add somthn tho) 

Malcolm wakes with a start, feeling the restraints around his wrists like usual. It’s not until he opens his eyes he realizes they are not his restraints. Panic was beginning to set in, his confusion feeding into it more than anything else. 

Malcolm had found himself sitting bound to a metal chair in the middle of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. From his perspective he was alone. He took a big breath in and then let it out.. He had to focus. How long had he been out? Was this about a case? Had to be. 

Malcolm tried to pull against his restraints, no luck. For the time being, until he could think of a plan, he was trapped. 

“You’re awake. Good.” 

The voice came from behind, but before Malcolm could turn to see, the younger man had stepped into his vision.  He was hardly 20 Malcolm mused, not the first profile he would have pegged. 

The young man looked academic, a pair of sturdy glasses to go along with his knit sweater. This whole essence gave off a vibe, but Malcolm couldn’t quite place it. 

“Hello Malcolm Whitley.” 

Malcolm couldn’t help but flinch at the use of his father’s last name. His heart started to beat faster, maybe this wasn’t just about a case. 

  “What do you want from me?” he asked, doing his best to appear calm. He had to keep the upper hand, if one could have the upper hand while unwillingly bound to a chair. 

“Why, you are going to help me a great deal, Malcolm.” the young man’s face was earnest but malicious. 

With every second he was forming a better idea of what his captor was, what motivated him, what caused him to take action, but all his revelations he came to all led to the same conclusion: he was in trouble. 

  “You are such a disappointment, you know?” 

This caught Malcolm off guard, “What do you know about me?” 

“Ha! What don’t I know about you, Malcolm Whitley? You betrayed your own father, your own flesh and blood!” the crazed man stood in front of Malcolm, proclaiming this as if Malcolm had personally offended him. 

“He was a monster.” 

“He was a master. He was an artist, really Malcolm? What makes you think he deserves to be trapped all alone? Suffering for showing his true self to the world? What ever happened to loving your neighbor?” 

Malcolm’s face rolled back in disgust, the ever familiar nausea of thinking about his father making a show again. 

Malcolm knew he could debate with this kid all day, about how there is never an excuse to kill 23 people, but from the looks of it, it would just fall on deaf ears.

“Luckily, thanks to you, he won’t be trapped anymore.” the young man’s face morphed into a smile as Malcolm’s stomach dropped. 

“What do you- what are you-” Malcolm couldn’t think clearly. He was only safe because of those 4 walls that his father was unable to cross. He couldn’t breathe. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s what you’re going to do.” 

And with his words ringing in his ears the young man took a step closer to Malcolm, before hitting him straight across the face, brass knuckles inflicting most of the pain, and the loss of consciousness. 

  *** 

Gil finally found a moment to sit down and actually enjoy his coffee, he sighed content for a moment.  The silence of the station almost lulling him into a mid-day nap, almost. 

  He was jostled out of his break by a pounding on his office door. Gil sighed, of course, he couldn’t catch a moment. “Come in,” 

  Dani Powell entered, a yellow package in hand. “You need to see this.” Her expression was grim, “This came for the station. It was scanned. No bomb or anything, but honestly it might be worse.” 

Gil thought to himself what ‘might be worse’ than a bomb, but he pushed that aside to inspect the laptop that was in the package. 

“There was no password.” Dani paused before opening the laptop, unsure of what to say next. “It was only streaming one thing, a live camera.” 

Gil’s eyebrow’s rose, he still wasn’t sure exactly why this was his problem, it was New York City. Strange things happened, a live feed to a camera is not the worse thing to be sent to a police station. 

It wasn’t until Dani pulled up the video did Gil fully understand. His face drained of all color, the taste of coffee in his mouth going sour. Displayed on the video monitor was a dark screen, but he was able to make out the figure laying slumped in the chair, hardly moving. He couldn’t form words for a moment. He had so many questions, the biggest if he was okay, was his kid okay? 

“Bright. What did you get yourself into?” he mumbled before sinking into his chair. 

His hand on his chin he wore a far away expression. Dani looked unsure if to talk, but had to give more information. 

“It’s live, I put some people on tracking it, but whoever set it was smart. We’ve had no luck. Maybe with more time-but Lieutenant, it’s not looking good. Gil nodded. From a law enforcement perspective, he knew what had to happen, but Bright was his blind spot. He swallowed before giving Dani a direction, he couldn’t make any mistakes on this one. 

“Make sure that’s being monitored at all time, I’m going to take a Tarmel to Bright’s place to see if we can turn anything up. Let me know as soon as anything changes.” 

“Will do boss,” Dani nodded before exiting the room. Gil stared blankly at his office wall, willing it all to be a dream. For himself to wake up in his office chair having nodded off, Bright to be hounding him about another case. But this was real life. And this was a real problem.

  *** 

  Malcolm was awoken to a bucket of cold water poured over him, he whipped his head to get it out of his eyes, but without his hands to wipe the water, it continued to drip into his eyes. This was worse than the punches. Malcolm could handle a beating, but when it came to his eyes he couldn’t have anything covering them, he had to be able to see, he had to be able to perceive, it was all he was good at… 

He supposed that he was lucky that his captor’s intent wasn't to torture him, with all he knew about him that could get pretty messy pretty quick. By the time the water ran off his eyes and he was able to see again he noticed there was a change, specifically a small tripod set up to the left of him, the camera atop flashing a steady red telling him that it was recording. 

  That didn’t look good for him. 

Before he could get too far away with his imagination the young man showed himself to him again. 

“We’re one step closer to our goal, right Malcolm?” he said turning away from Malcolm to give a cheesy grin into the camera. 

Malcolm figured that meant he was ransom. Or being used for ransom, whatever the proper term was he couldn’t think over the pounding of his head and the incessant voice of his captor trailing on. 

“As you can see, I have someone here with me today. A  very special someone, who made a terrible mistake a while ago. Now he’s going to fix it.” 

  The man approached Malcolm, still talking into the camera. “If I’m not being clear enough, you release the genius Doctor Martin Whitley, or his disgrace of a son dies.” 

  Malcolm half expected the next hit, this one knocking him and his chair onto the floor. 

He had to admit that it did hurt, but Malcolm assumed it was more for dramatic effect than his pain. That might be coming later. 

*** 

 Gil replayed the clip that Dani had sent him on his phone, of the threat, of Malcolm being thrown into the ground. Gil couldn’t help himself but to replay it again, it couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than when he had seen the video last. 

At least Bright was awake, he thought. He was alive and breathing, beaten and bruised, but alive. Then again, whoever the maniac that was holding him seemed completely unhinged, and not very patient. 

  It wasn’t even Gil’s decision, if they could release Martin for Malcolm, they had a pretty strict “don’t negotiate with terrorists” policy, and no matter how much he cared for the hostage, there were no special circumstances. 

  Gil pocketed his phone, he couldn’t stomach another rewatch, somehow he was putting all the blame on himself again. If he was keeping a closer eye on Bright then no one would have gotten the chance to do this, but he couldn’t help it if the kid didn’t let anyone in. Or was that just another excuse? 

With a frustrated sigh Gil gave up with his self quarrel. He studied Malcolm’s loft. It was all he could do. His hands were tied with Martin, and there was still no luck with tracking the source of the video. How many empty warehouses could there really be in New York? Too many, he thought. Too many. 

“Has anyone talked to Martin yet?” JT asked him. 

  Gil shook his head, “No. There’s nothing we can do, even if we could let him go, we shouldn’t. It would be too dangerous to the world.” 

“What about if he could ID Malcolm’s captor?” JT asked, “He’s a freak, so I’m sure he keeps tabs on all of his obsessors, I mean the man probably has a scrapbook titled, ‘my fans’.” 

  “That’s a good idea. Take Powell. I’m going to stay here...there has to be something we’ve missed.” Gil started to drift off again. 

  JT put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to get him.” 

  “But will it be in time?” 

*** 

 Malcolm kept his eyes closed now, when he controlled when he couldn’t see it actually helped him. Take his mind off of things anyway, of his busted lip and bleeding face, his most likely broken ribs and his captor that didn’t seem to be losing any momentum. 

  He would do this annoying countdown for the camera, telling them and Malcolm before he would receive another hit. But Malcolm could rise above it, after all, didn’t he deserve it? If it weren’t for him the Surgeon would be old news from yesterday's paper, but his constant presence only seemed to dredge up the past even more. 

  “Why-” Malcolm paused to spit a mouthful of blood. “are you doing this? What does Martin mean to you?” 

The younger man smiled briefly at Malcolm’s question. “Martin is my, well, father in many ways. Or, I am his son. At least, his son that respects and doesn’t disappoint him.” 

  Malcolm’s face creased in confusion. “How do you figure that he’s your father?”

“I was born in 1998. The same day the Surgeon was arrested. My disgrace of a birth father had abandoned my mother in the hospital, the same day Martin’s disgrace of a birth son abandoned him to the police. We were a match sewn by fate.” 

“You’re delusional.” 

“I am the only one seeing clearly!” he raised his voice. 

  Malcolm shook his head, blood dripping down his temple. “You want him? You want him as a father? You want him haunting your every waking moment? You can have him!” Malcolm matched his tone. 

  The young man shook with rage, “You don’t even know what you have.”

“What I have? I have issues! I have so many issues, because he not only killed 23 people, he ruined all of our lives! I’ve lived my whole life trying to get away from him, and now here I sit, about to die to release him! Can’t you see that this insane?!” 

  Malcolm broke down, drowning in his own anger which morphed to a sob. He almost forgot that he was being recorded. Hopefully, no one was watching. 

  The man was practically seething and Malcolm sunk back into his chair. It was no use. There was simply no talking his way out of this one. There was no way out of this one. 

*** 

  Gil looked down at his phone buzzing. He didn’t know if he could handle another clip of a video, but he answered the phone anyway. 

Dani was on the other line, “We have a lead!” she practically shouted, and for a moment...Gil allowed himself to hope. 

  “We’ve been analyzing the video and Malcolm got his captor to start talking about himself, he was born the same day the Surgeon was arrested and has been obsessed with him as his father for some reason. Weirdness aside, we got a real lead with his birthdate and a current picture. JT and I have had no luck with Martin, he claims he had ‘no idea he was so popular’. I wanted to sock him in the face,” Dani said the last bit quieter but Gil smiled. 

  They had a chance. Standing up from Malcolm’s bed he rushed the door, they had a sick man to arrest and their man to save. 

  *** 

  “We’ve spent a great deal of time here, haven’t we Malcolm? No dice though. No word that the Surgeon has been released.” the young man smiled.

“Have I really just misjudged your importance? Or do you really just have no friends? Either way, Malcolm Whitley, you haven’t been doing it.” 

Malcolm leaned his head back and looked to the ceiling. It was too late to try to fight him, he was too injured and weak. But who's to say he ever would’ve been able to hold his own? 

“Last count down everyone.” the man said, then the clicking of a bullet being loaded into the chamber echoed through the warehouse.

  Malcolm couldn’t hide the tear that slipped down his face. He wasn’t sure why he was crying, it was finally happening. He was finally going to die. Maybe it was because he was going to die because of his father, or because he could never see his team again, his friends. 

  “Ten minutes folks. What are you going to do? Are you going to watch me blow Malcolm Whitley’s brains all over this place, or are you going to release the doctor?” 

Malcolm had tuned him out at this point. He only wished that he had one more day. To hug his sister, to thank Gil, to tell Dani, JT and Edrisa how much working with them had shaped his life. However short. He would tell his mother that he forgave her. She was awful as a parent, but he couldn’t hold that over her now. Now that he was going to die broadcasted to the whole world. 

  His only hope was that they looked away. That they didn’t watch him die. Then again, what did it matter? They would be the ones that found him. Would Edrisa do his autopsy? Would the team be assigned to his murder? Would his father cry when he heard? What about Ainsley? She was so vulnerable right now, would she be assigned to do a story on him? On the way that he died? 

“7 minutes!” 

Malcolm couldn’t help himself diving deep into his thoughts, entertain them because this might be his last chance. He didn’t really want to think about it. Now that it was becoming a reality it wasn’t as gracious as he had thought it would be. Death. He had been surrounded by death all his life, it’s not like he could avoid it though. Could anyone? 

“3 minutes, you better hope that he gets released soon, I’m serious about this gun Malcolm...” 

Malcolm shut his eyes, he would close them on his terms. Not when the bullet hit him. He was supposed to choose. Not some stranger in a warehouse. Him. 

  “60 seconds, well, it was nice knowing you. Now you get to die as the disgrace you turned yourself into that day.” 

The gunshot rang though the warehouse making Malcolm jump. 

  His face was twitching uncontrollably, his eyes still squeezed shut. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought. Death. 

  He was still shaking, unable to open his eyes. 

  “Bright!” called a familiar voice from across the room. 

  Gil. 

  Malcolm hesitantly opened his eyes to see Gil and what seemed to be the whole of the department surrounding him. 

  Malcolm’s eyes followed the blood splatter to his captor laying face-first on the ground. 

It was over. It was really over. 

  “Bright, are you okay?” Gil asked rushing to undo his binds. 

  All Malcolm could do was nod, it was all too much. He had come to terms with death, and now yet again he was left shaking and broken, but this time, not alone. 

  “Let’s get you to the hospital,” Gil said directing Malcolm towards the awaiting ambulance. 

  Malcolm took his shaking hands and ran them through his blood-stained hair. He stopped in his tracks, and when Gil turned to stop with him Malcolm put both his arms around him and said exactly what he had been meaning to for the past 20 years. 

  “Thank you,”

[buffster]

Bachelor Party (ATS 1.07)

This is part of my ongoing Buffyverse Project, where I write notes/meta for every episode in an attempt to better understand the characters and themes of the shows. You can find the BTVS list here and the ATS list here. Gifs are not mine.

Bachelor Party is a backstory episode designed to emotionally prime us for Doyle’s death. We learn about his history and issues and where he needs to go from here--just in time for him to die. I’m kind of amazed Doyle made such an impact on the show and is remembered so well when he had only a few (nine) episodes in the first season. But I personally found him funny and charming...sort of the early Xander to Angel (a comparison Cordy notes as well). He brought some much needed levity from all the drama. That being said, this episode isn’t one of my favorites to rewatch. A lot of early Buffy and Angel relies on the plot surprises for entertainment, which don’t hold up on rewatch. 

I love that Angel appeals to the brooding hermit in so many of us introverted types. He just wants to curl up with a book but Doyle is begging him to go play trivia at a sports bar (mostly to distract himself while Cordelia goes on a date).

Doyle: I just can't sit around here while..

Cordelia: While I steal into the night with my incredibly-more-wealthy-then-you prince?  Makes your little life seem a tad drab, doesn't it? Doyle:  Yeah just because he has money... doesn't mean that he can make you happy.

Cordelia: I'll have you know that Pierce has a lot more than money.  He has a house in Montecito, he has a Mercedes CLK 320 and a place in the hills with a lap pool.

Doyle: Since you put it that way.

After Cordelia leaves Doyle conveniently finds a picture of Buffy that Angel keeps to brood over. It’s a promotional shot for Buffy and just looks way out of place. Why would Buffy take this moody-as-hell photo and why would Angel chose it of all options to treasure forever? Wouldn’t you want a nice grin or something? My goodness. I have to wonder how Doyle would have figured out what his vision was about at the end had he not seen it. Aren’t his visions usually more local?

Cordelia’s date doesn’t go as planned. Pierce is boring and when they’re attacked by a vampire he leaves her and runs off. Doyle comes to her rescue, which she can’t help but contrast to her rich date. 

Cordelia: So, here I am at Le Petite Renard with Mr. Armani, who could keep me in blue boxes for the rest of my life..

Angel: Blue boxes?

Cordelia: Tiffany's! God! And the whole night I was bored silly. All I could think about was: if this wimp ever saw a monster he'd probably throw a shoe at it and run like a weasel. Turns out the shoe part was giving him to much credit.

Cordelia says she swore she would never date a fixer upper again after Xander Harris, but eventually she decides to go ask Doyle on a coffee date...which is when his wife walks in. She’s getting remarried and needs divorce papers signed. Despite pretending to be annoyed by Doyle for the past few episodes she’s immediately jealous when someone with his affections enters the picture.  Harry’s husband-to-be played the demon in Anne on Buffy, a point that always annoys me. Are we supposed to pretend this guy has a really dark backstory? Haha. Anyway he immediately assumes Angel is her ex and seems impressed. Not so much when he sees the real Doyle. 

Harry’s return causes Doyle to contemplate how little he’s changed from who he was when they broke up. She’s clearly moved on and healed, but here he is still drinking too much and hating his demon half. But changing is easier said than done. Quick backstory notes: Harry and “Francis” married when they were twenty. They met at a food bank. He had recently gotten his teaching credentials for third grade. When his demon half surfaced (his mom decided to keep things hush hush until it was certain he would have it) it tore him apart and ended their talk of having children. Harry learned to accept it while he became miserable and impossible to live with. Eventually Harry left. 

Harry: I even tried to get him to go out--meet other demons. At least go to one mixer, you know? But he couldn’t accept himself--or them. So then he was just angry, and pretty much a bitch to live with. 

We also find out that Harry went on to study demons around the world, which is when she met Richard Straley. Unlike Doyle, Richard is happy with his demon self. 

Doyle: All that time Harry would go on about what an amazing thing my demon half could be, the worlds that it opened up to us, I thought she was just trying to make me feel better. I thought that she was pitying me. But it was true. I just wasn't listening. You know, Harry didn't leave because of the demon in me-- she left because of me.

Doyle decides to sign the divorce papers and try to let Harry go with grace. But when he’s invited to the Bachelor Party things go wrong as Richard’s family prepares to eat his brains. If Richard eats the ex husband’s brains it’s believed he will bring all of their love into the new marriage along with his own. Once again we get the gotcha, I’m a vampire! trick when the family believes they’ve taken care of Angel but he bounces back fast. Doyle and Angel fight the Straley family until Harry and Cordelia walk in. 

Cordelia is protective of Doyle, but ironically hits him over the head in his defense because she doesn’t recognize his demon half. Harry is worried about what this says about her upcoming marriage. 

Harry: And since when does your family follow the ancient teachings?

Uncle: We don't flaunt our beliefs, but they're very dear to us.

Harry: Oh, please Uncle John!  When is the last time you pried your self away from ESPN long enough to spill the blood of a she-goat?

When they insist on performing the ritual Harry gives her engagement ring back. To be honest, it was a little too convenient that Harry never mentions to Cordelia that Doyle’s a demon. 

Harry: One word, Francis, just one word and I'll eat your brains!

Cordelia’s method of comforting others seems to work better with Angel and Doyle than it did with Buffy and her friends--probably because they don’t really want to open up and talk about their feelings. Her dismissal is easier to deal with. 

Cordelia: Hi, Doyle.  Are you going to become loser-pining guy, like, full-time now?  Because you know, we already have one of those around the office. 

Angel: Hey!

Doyle: Hey!

Cordelia: He can get away with it. He's tall and - and look at the way clothes hang on him.  But you..

Angel: Okay, I think you've cheered us up enough.

Cordelia: You can't live in the past. You got to move on. Let it go. Forget it. Tomorrow is another day. Did I mention letting it go?

Doyle: Twice.

Cordelia: You'll get through this, Doyle. Nice guys don't always finish last.

Doyle: You think I'm a nice guy?

Cordelia: I think it, I say it. That's my way.

Funny that they used the phrase “nice guys finish last”--a sure way to gain the hatred of fandom now days. 

The episode ends on a cliffhanger when Doyle has a vision of Buffy in trouble. 

Character Notes:

Angel: He grills Cordelia’s date before letting them leave.

[journalxxx]

Rerun

Inspired by @steampunch​‘s breathtaking art

The images on the screen are surprisingly clean and vivid, the sound of laughters and broken branches unexpectedly crisp and sharp. Each reel was packed and sealed very carefully, but Ford wouldn't have guessed they would have aged so well. They've withstood the test of time much better than the both of them, which, he supposes, is the exact purpose of such keepsakes. He doesn't watch them, though. He can barely remember the content of the tapes, but they hold very little interest compared to the fact that Stan's jokes and questions have gradually lessened, that his eyes are now glued to the screen as if the very essence of the universe was pictured on it. His own largely is, probably.

Bless the visual arts. Three nights of detailed tales and heartfelt apologies didn't so much as spark the barest hint of recollection on Stan's part, yet a handful of pictures from a child's scrapbook and few minutes of haphazard recording are proving miraculous. Ford observes his brother's features with trepidation, the deep shadows cast by the projector giving him an even more serious and profound appearance. This is it, he can tell. He hopes.

The reel stops with an abrupt snap. Stan blinks, glancing around himself as if suddenly awoken from a dream. He rubs his hand on his eyes for a moment.

"...Damn. Sorry, can we rewatch the last part? I spaced out a bit." "Of course." Ford stands up and starts fiddling with the projector, rewinding roughly half of the tape. He bides his time with the equipment, and with his questions. He sits back on his chair as two overly energetic kids are about to earn themselves a semi-permanent banishment from the family shop. "Where did you say you found these?" "In my private study. I don't quite know how they ended up down there, but I do remember having them sent here from home. I guess I did move around some stuff at some point..." Stan keeps staring at the screen thoughtfully, slouching slightly to the side of the armchair, his hand holding his right cheek. A frown crosses his features, but only for a moment. "...Right. The second underground floor. I could never get past that fancy lock. But the backdoor to the emergency stairs was a child's play. I can't believe the gnomes never found a way in." There's his answer. Relief washes over him slowly, almost a physical weight settling in his stomach and crawling up his spine. It pervades him so deeply that it feels almost unpleasant. Stan shoots him a small, satisfied smirk, and Ford can only smile in return. "I set up a couple of magic deterrents back in the day. You got in?" "'Course I did. I turned the whole house upside down while I was searching for anything that could help me fix that mess in the basement. I couldn't make sense of anything I found down there though, not even the giant computer. Goddamn codes and passwords everywhere." The precarious Fort Stan on the screen collapses loudly, catching their attention again. An abrupt cut spares them their father's decidedly unimpressed reaction to their filming ambitions, and the setting switches back to the great outdoors. Stan's expression shifts again, to one Ford doesn't quite know how to interpret. "I found these, I think. I checked one, but I didn't... Well, they weren't going to help me with the nerd work. I put them back where I found them." Ford considers the screen for a moment, realizing he himself has no memory of that specific sequence. He remembers asking for the reels, when his mother had decided to toss away some of their old stuff. He remembers the thought of the tapes being destroyed feeling vaguely unpleasant, he remembers packing them adequately for when he would have time to watch them. For later. "...I never watched them either." Silence stretches between them, way more meaningful than all the inane chatter and one-sided conversations of the last few days. Stan sighs deeply, and Ford squeezes his arm gently. "...Are you all right?" "Yeah, yeah." "If you're tired, we can call it a day and-" "No, really, I'm fine. It's just- it's just..." Stan's gaze drops to Ford's hand and he stares at it intently, as if trying to gauge the right word from Ford's knuckles. "...Nuts." "That's putting it mildly." Stan smiles, and falls silent again. He is strangely pensive, strangely quiet and cautious, much unlike his normal boisterous character and even his easy-going and carefree amnesiac self. Of this third, probably temporary iteration of his brother Ford knows nothing, and he has absolutely no idea how to handle it. "Stan... I know I've been nothing but spitefully secretive about everything since I came back. About myself, about my plans, about Bill- and God knows how much damage that caused. But if there's anything you need to know... Anything you want to ask..." "No, not ask... but I do have something to say." He frowns, picking an invisible speck of dust off Ford's sleeve. "And do. Before it slips my mind." That is a loaded introduction if Ford's ever heard one, so he waits. Stan slightly leans forward, then he pauses, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his features, then he leans forward again. He doesn't stop. His lips land on his brother's, his breath tickles his cheeks, and Ford's mind goes completely blank. The first emotion emerging from the void is utter dread. Because Ford cannot possibly fathom what may have spurred such an action, so it must be some sort of mistake, some tragic inconsistency or misplaced attachment in his brother's memory, a positively catastrophic one. He tries to inch back from him, but Stan's arm slips from his grasp to hold him by the side of his head. Ford's mouth opens imperceptibly in surprise, and suddenly he's acutely aware of his brother's thumb tracing his cheekbone, slowly tickling his sideburn, of his palm brushing the shell of his ear, of his fingers tangling in his hair and curving on his nape. Stan's lips caress Ford with a gentleness that he's never experienced before, with his brother or with anyone else, and with a deliberate tranquillity that subdues any objection. It's over before Ford can recover properly. Stan leans back just a bit to look at him, still gripping Ford's head firmly, only slightly flushed and holding his gaze steadily. "I..." Ford gulps. Each word feels like a round of Russian roulette, ready to blow both their brains out. "I think... this is a serious misunderstanding." "You think, uh? Figures, I should have started with the other thing. But that 's been... a long time coming." "What... Stanley, what on earth-" "Shut up and listen, Poindexter. Carefully." The hand on Ford's nape becomes heavier. The grip on the back of his neck suddenly feels way more like a vise, and Stan brings their heads closer again. Their foreheads bump. Hard. Painfully. "You motherfucking bastard." Ford blinks. His doubts on Stan's coherency and sanity have skyrocketed in the last sixty seconds, but he has no opportunity to express them. "To make it quick. I'm not going to rub in your face the ungodly amount of utter bullshit that you spew on mine thirty years ago, but don't think I don't remember. Don't think for a second that I don't remember." He can feel Stan's nails digging slightly in his nape, their glasses tinkling uncomfortably against one another, his brother's steely tone digging in his chest like a knife. "I'm not going to question your right to complain about the state of the house as if it was a deconsacrated temple- my house, as much as it is yours - or to burn my merchandise, or to disparage three decades' worth of work to bring your sorry ass out of Sci-Fi Land. I'm not so stupid that I can't see your point in those matters. A cheap, selfish, haughty point, but a point nonetheless." "I-" "What I do question-" Stan's jaw sets at a sharper angle, a tight grimace twists his features "- is how much of a petty, self-absorbed prick one must be to greet his own brother after thirty whole years with a punch on the face. A punch. On the face. And insults. And a full-fledged eviction notice." "No, listen." Ford's head snaps up, nudging the other to earn himself enough leeway to look at him. "I told you, I'm- believe me, I'm truly sorry about that. I had just come back, the house was-" "I know what you said and for God's sake, shut up. This is nothing, this is childish, obnoxious, irrelevant crap- nothing compared to dragging a couple of kids - my niece and nephew, your niece and nephew- into your personal holy crusade against a psychopathic, mind-controlling monster. They could have died, Ford. They could have gone mad. I may have done a lousy job at protecting them from all this myself, but at least I tried. At least I tried." "...I know. That... I know. You-" "Stanford. Shut. Up." Stan finally loosens his grasp and raises his head to meet Ford's eyes. He doesn't look as furious as Ford was expecting. He doesn't look angry at all, in fact. He looks dejected, tired. Sad. "I know that you know, and that you're sorry. I know what you told me. The problem is, you told me yesterday, and the day before that. You told me when I didn't even know what the hell you were talking about, you gave me your apologies when I didn't even know I deserved any. And that - as sincere as you may have been - is cowardly as fuck. Wonderfully refreshing for your conscience, I bet, but completely meaningless for me, because I couldn't talk back." The logic is flawless. It's his turn not to talk back, so he doesn't. Stan's expression grows softer. "So. We're doing this all over again. We're talking again about all this, so that you can deliver your apologies properly. And... have some of mine as well. And we're talking to the kids too, of course. They deserve it more than the both of us." Ford nods and instictively glances at the clock. Stan follows his gaze and shakes his head. "Not now. God, not now, I barely even know how old I am. And you look ready to stab yourself with an ice pick." Stan is still holding him, but Ford finds that it doesn't feel as if he's about to snap his neck any more, so he can lean back to a reasonable degree. Ford sighs tiredly, scratching his own knee nervously. "Well, you are right. About... basically all of it. I... I know it doesn't mean much like this, but... I really am sorry. For everything." "I know. I heard you the first ten times you said it, but... Hell, don't give me that look, I refuse to console you. You had that coming." Stan pinches the bridge of his nose, his whole face scrunching up. "Don't go moping around like that, you'll worry the kids. I just... needed to get all that out of my system." Ford considers his brother's words for a moment, his thought dwelling on a short but very prominent part of the evening. "...All of that?" "Yeah. All of that." Now that expression, Ford recognises. He's seen that purposefully casual, undisclosing demeanour countless times from countless hardened gamblers on Lottocron Nine. And apparently three nights in a smelly cell and a forceful ejection from the dimension's finest establishment still haven't taught him that not all bluffs should be called out. "...Is there anything else I need to hear?" Stan snorts. "Yeah. You're a stuck-up, insufferable, pushy smartass." "...I see." "A callous, unfeeling, smug cock." "I'm... glad this nasty incident hasn't impaired your vocabulary." "A remorseless, ungrateful, stubborn son of a bitch." "We still have the same mother, you know." "Are you seriously-" The reel snaps loudly as it stops. They both stare at the bright, white screen for a moment. "Dammit. I can't get to see the end of this thing." "Shall I rewind it again?" "Nah, maybe another time. Put on the next one." Stan lays back comfortably on his armchair and his hand finally withdraws from Ford's neck, slipping off his shoulder. Slowly, lightly. Almost like a caress. "And grab more popcorn while you're at it."

[ec-sanderssides]

The sides watching old kids shows: Morality absolutely loving it and singing along to every cheesy song, Logan pointing out every mistake/stupid question the characters ask, Princey making a list of every quest he NEEDS to go on (based on what the TV characters do) and Anxiety wanting to turn the TV off the whole time

Okay, so sorry this took so long. I didn’t actually watch that much TV as a kid, (my parents weren’t a fan), so this took some more time for me to write, and I’m still not sure I did your awesome prompt justice. I hope you like it anyway though!

“Why are we doing this again?” Anxiety’s voice rang out in the common room, filled with mild irritation.

“Because” Morality replied cheerfully, “Isn’t it fun to relive the fun times of your childhood? Watching these shows brings back all kinds of memories.”

Morality had dragged the rest of the sides into the common room, for what he felt was a well deserved break. They had all been working hard lately, and what better way to relax, than to watch all the TV shows they loved as kids?

“Why would I want to relive childhood?” Anxiety complained, “Middle school was a nightmare, I’d much rather forget it. And anything we watched in elementary is bound to be boring and childish.”

“While that was a rather emotionally charged statement,” Logic cut in, “Anxiety does have somewhat of a point. While we did enjoy these shows previously, that was when we were at a less sophisticated level of thinking. I can’t imagine we’d find them to be very stimulating now.”

“You’re missing the point,” Morality said, determined to get the others on board. “We don’t need to be stimulated or anything like that. Tonight’s all about relaxing, not having to think too hard, and just feel like a kid again.”

“Well I think this sounds like a great idea” Prince boomed out. “Those year were the best. It was a time of imagination and adventure. I remember entering Daydream Mode almost every day. Why did we ever stop living like that?”

“Mostly because you kept doing it when Thomas had homework, and if you’d kept it up, he would have failed math.” Anxiety pointed out. He had flopped down on the couch, apparently resigned to the binge-watching.

“Yes, that was extremely irritating,” Logic agreed. “But regardless of your past habits, I suppose it is logical to take some time to rest. We don’t want to burn out after all. What are we watching first?”

That last question was directed at Morality. He shrugged.

“I don’t really know,“ he explained. “I just manipulated the mindscape enough that the TV will show us shows from when we were younger, but I left it up to chance which ones will come up. It’s more fun that way.”

“And if we hate the show?” Anxiety asked.

“Well, then we just change the channel, silly.” Morality grinned and sat down on the couch between Logic and Anxiety. “Now let’s start.”

The first show was PowerPuff Girls much to Prince’s excitement.  

“I loved this show,” he proclaimed. “It gave me some great ideas for quests. Perhaps I should revisit some of them? Oh, and of course, Blossom just reminds me so much myself.”

“Who do you think the rest of us would be?” Morality asked intrigued.

“Well Doom and Gloom over there is obviously Buttercup,” Prince stated confidently.

“Do not involve me in this,” Anxiety said flatly.

Prince continued on as if Anxiety hadn’t said anything. “And for your Morality, you seem like the Bubbles type.”

“I love Bubbles!” Morality grinned. “But wait, who would Logic be?”

Prince and Morality looked over to study Logic, who only raised an eyebrow at them.

“He can be the Professor,” Prince decided. “They’re both brainy, scientist types.”

“I wouldn’t really consider the Profess much of a scientist.” Logic said dryly. “After all the entire premise of the show is based on his poor lab safety skills. Well, that and a ridiculous nursery rhyme about what constitutes human beings. I can assure you that what humans are really made of is-“

“Stop.” Prince commanded. “We don’t need to hear it, just watch the show.”

Logic frowned at that, so Morality hastily cut in. “It’s not that it isn’t interesting,” he insisted, “It’s just that the point of this was not to think. So maybe just sit back and enjoy it, silliness and all, ok?”

Logic sighed, but then nodded, sinking back into the couch cushion. They watched a few more episodes of PowerPuff Girls before Morality decided to change the channel. He wanted to revisit as many shows as possible, and he’d only be able to keep the other on the couches for so long. Anxiety was already asking when he could leave.

“Seriously,” he said, from where he had now draped himself over the back of the couch. “I’ve watched TV with you now. I’ve relived childhood. Can I go now?”

“Aww, just give it a few more shows, kiddo?” Morality begged, looking at Anxiety plaintively.

Anxiety gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine,” he muttered.

Morality beamed at him, and changed the channel. It turned to.. the Teletubbies?

Prince was staring at the TV in mild horror, Logic with confusion, and Anxiety fell off the couch.

“NO!” Anxiety said, “I’m not doing this, no. Turn it off. Turn it off!”

“It, ah, it can’t be that bad,” Morality said weakly.

“No, I think it can be,” Prince said, “This is one show we don’t need to rewatch.”

“They do seem much more disconcerting now then they did when we were children,” Logic added.

“Exaclty,” Anxiety said, having emerged from behind the couch to snatch the remote from  Morality’s hand. “This time, I’m changing the channel, maybe we’ll get something good this time.”

Batman: The Animated Series flickered to life on TV.

“There,” Anxiety said, settling back on the couch. “Finally something decent.”

“Not a bad choice, Hot Topic,” Prince said thoughtfully. “For once we have similar taste. While it’s not Disney, there’s nothing like a good superhero story. And I’m not surprised that you like Batman. The two of you go well together, all dark and brooding.”

“Just shut up and watch the show,” Anxiety grumbled, tugging his hood up and over his face, his cheeks slightly red.

Just as Batman made a particularly daring leap, Logic spoke up again.

“You know there’s no way he would be able to do that,” he said. “The physics alone make it impossible.”

“It’s superheroes,” Anxiety replied, “As a general rule, they tend to throw physics out the window.”

“Well, yes, but normally that’s due to various improbable superpowers. But Batman is supposed to be entirely human. As such, he should be adhering to the laws of physics.”

“You know I bet I could do that,” Prince cut in, staring at the TV thoughtfully.

Logic looked at him in askance. “Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying. The physics alone make it-“

“No, no” Anxiety cut him off. “Let him do this, I want to see Epic Fail fall on his face.”

“Oh, really, you think so? Well, I will certainly show you,” Prince said, rising from seat.

“How about we just finish watching the show, kiddos,” Morality said, knowing all too well what would happen if he let them continue. “And, Roman, if you really want to, maybe after you can try out some Batman moves. So long as you have some safety precautions, like mattresses, maybe some pillow armor.”

“Fine,” Anxiety and Prince muttered, both sitting back down on the couch. They continued to watch a few more episodes, but Morality could see that Prince was getting antsy, and on the verge of leaping into Daydream Mode.

Eager to prevent any death-defying stunts, Morality decided to change the channel before Batman gave him any more ideas.

“Pokemon!” he squealed in delight. “You guys it’s Pokemon!”

“Yes, we can see that,” Logic deadpanned, but Morality could tell he was pleased by the small smile tugging on his lips.

As the theme song began, Morality prepared himself. “I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was,” he sang out, motioning for the others to join in.

Prince was quick to jump at the opportunity, joining him on the very next line.

“To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cause.”

Morality was all but bouncing now as he and Prince harmonized. Next him Anxiety was rolling his eye, and Logic only looked bemused, but Morality was quick to nudge them, begging them to sing along with his eyes.

Logan shook his head in exasperation, but still came in on the line, “Each Pokemon to understand the power that’s inside.” His voice was a little more halting and unsure than the other sides, but he didn’t stop singing.

Now Anxiety was the only one still silent, with the other three now staring at him expectantly. He stared resolutely at a wall, refusing to get drawn in, but he understated the determination of the others. Prince leapt off his seat, standing directly in front of Anxiety, impossible to ignore, as he leaned in, getting right in Anxiety’s face. Morality was now shaking Anxiety’s shoulder, and even Logic had leaned over to stare at him pointedly.

In the face of such an assault, Anxiety’s resolve cracked. Sounding extremely put upon, he sang, “Oh, you’re my best friend, in a world we must defend.”

The sides kept singing, their voices weaving in and out of each other as they sang the song from their childhood. And despite any initial reservations, they all seemed happy to do so. Even Anxiety had stopped looking so grumpy, and had a small smirk on his face.

As the last “Pokemon!” rang out through the common room, Morality could feel himself grinning widely. He knew this would be a great idea!

Bonus:

“You know, Anxiety, despite being an emo nightmare, your voice really isn’t that bad. Not as magnificent as mine, of course, but I really should gt you to sing more often. It may help improve that dark demeanor of yours.”

A pillow flew out and smacked Prince in the face.

“Shut it!”