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the-rewatch-rewind · 2 years ago

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Here it is! My most frequently rewatched movie! Thank you for coming on this journey with me.

Script below the break

Hello and welcome back to The Rewatch Rewind! My name is Jane, and this is the podcast where I count down my top 40 most frequently rewatched movies in a 20-year period. Today, at last, we reach the end of that list as I discuss my number one: MGM’s 1940 comedy The Philadelphia Story, directed by George Cukor, written by Donald Ogden Stewart with uncredited contributions from Waldo Salt, based on the play by Philip Barry, and starring Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, and James Stewart.

Two years after the disastrous end of her first marriage to childhood friend C.K. Dexter Haven (Cary Grant), socialite Tracy Lord (Katharine Hepburn) is preparing for her second wedding, to George Kittredge (John Howard), general manager of her estranged father’s coal mining company. Eager to cover this story but knowing that Tracy loathes publicity, Spy magazine editor and publisher Sidney Kidd (Henry Daniell) enlists the help of Dexter to get reporter Macaulay “Mike” Connor (James Stewart) and photographer Elizabeth “Liz” Imbrie (Ruth Hussey) to the Lord house the day before the wedding. In those 24 hours before her second marriage begins, Tracy is prompted to rethink not only her choice of husband, but also her entire attitude toward people and life.

This must have been one of the first old movies I saw in 2002 because the only thing I remember about my initial experience of it was that I expected Tracy to accept Mike’s proposal, and if I’d been an experienced old movie watcher by then I would have known that obviously Katharine Hepburn was going to end up with Cary Grant, not James Stewart. I certainly did not immediately fully appreciate this movie, although I was intrigued enough to keep revisiting it until eventually it became my favorite. I watched it five times in each year from 2003 through 2005, four times in 2006, twice in 2007, 2008, and 2009, three times each in 2010 and 2011, five times in 2012, once in 2013, once in 2014, twice in 2015, once in 2017, twice in 2018, four times in 2019, once in 2020, twice in 2021, and once in 2022. Part of why I watch this so much is because it has three stars whose birthdays I celebrate almost every year, so I often watch it for Cary Grant’s birthday and then either Katharine Hepburn’s or James Stewart’s (their birthdays are only about a week apart so I don’t usually watch it for both). I think part of why I didn’t watch it in 2016 is because I watched it in late December of 2015 for the 75th anniversary of its release, so Grant’s birthday in January felt too soon to revisit it, and that May I decided to watch through all the Fred and Ginger movies starting with Astaire’s birthday, so I was less focused on Kate’s and Jimmy’s birthdays that year. And then later in 2016 I was too obsessed with Poe Party to watch much of anything else. But to make up for that, the reason I watched it so many times in 2019 is because Mary Kate Wiles used to host readings of plays and movie scripts with her actor friends for her Patreon, and I offered to transcribe the script of Philadelphia Story so she could do a reading of that one, and even though I knew the movie very well by then I decided to go through it a few more times to make sure I got all the details right, so eventually my love of Poe Party led to more rewatches of this. And the current Shipwrecked project, The Case of the Greater Gatsby, takes place in December of 1940 so there are lots of Philadelphia Story references in it and they make me very happy. Anyway, I’ve put quite a bit of effort into not watching this movie too many times too close together because I don’t ever want to overwatch it to the point of getting tired of it, like I did with a few other movies I’ve mentioned on this podcast, and many more that I burned out before they could make it into my top 40. While the stars’ birthdays have contributed to the view count, mostly this is my number one comfort movie that I know I can always turn to when I need something to watch, and I’m afraid of pushing it to the point where that no longer works. Although the fact that I sat through it 51 times in 20 years – the same number of views as number two plus number 40 on this list – and haven’t come close to getting tired of it yet indicates that I probably never will.

I don’t think I can really articulate what exactly it is about this movie that makes it my favorite to revisit, but I’m going to try. Certainly the fact that it features three of my favorite classic film stars helps, although a big part of why I love those stars so much is because of what they did in The Philadelphia Story. Every single member of the cast gives an absolutely fabulous performance. There isn’t a ton of action, but the dialogue is a perfect example of everything I love about the best Old Hollywood scripts: snappy and witty and clever on the surface, with real human emotion and intriguing philosophy underneath. The movie features many different kinds of brilliantly executed comedy, but the more serious moments still hit without feeling out of place. It deals with taboo subjects like divorce, infidelity, and alcoholism in ways that complied with production codes but still don’t feel too watered down. Basically, it has all the aspects I love about the other old movies on this list, only more so.

Several of my very favorite movie scenes of all time are in The Philadelphia Story. One is when Mike has had a lot to drink at a party and decides to visit Dexter in the middle of the night. The way drunk Jimmy Stewart and sober Cary Grant interact is hilarious and makes me desperately disappointed that the two of them never appeared in another movie together. At one point, Stewart makes a noise that’s kind of a mix of a hiccup, a cough, and a burp. Grant, thinking that Stewart has ruined the take, goes, “Excuse me,” sounding a little annoyed but trying to make a joke out of it, but then Stewart drunkenly responds with, “Huh?” indicating his intention to go on with the scene. Grant looks down, stifling a laugh, and then they continue with the dialogue, and I love that instead of reshooting it, or editing around it, they kept that in the movie. There may not be a blooper reel, but we still get to watch Jimmy Stewart almost break Cary Grant, and that’s good enough for me.

Another of my favorite scenes comes a bit earlier in the film, when Tracy and her younger sister, Dinah, played by Virginia Weidler, meet Mike and Liz for the first time. Tracy immediately saw through Dexter’s story that they were friends of her older brother’s and knows they’re reporters, but agreed to play along when Dexter informed her that Sidney Kidd intends to publish a story about Tracy’s father’s affair with a dancer unless he gets a story on her wedding. To protest the situation, Tracy and Dinah decide to put on a show for Mike and Liz, who don’t know that they know they’re reporters, and it is maybe my favorite comedic scene in any movie. First Dinah dramatically stumbles in wearing pointe shoes and some gaudy jewelry that was a wedding present she previously insulted. She then puts on an overly posh voice as she explains that she spoke French before she spoke English – “C’est vrai absolument!” – and boasts that she can play the piano “and sing at the same time!” She makes her way to the piano with the least graceful toe walk possible, and then bangs out a very silly rendition of “Lydia the Tattooed Lady,” a song mainly associated with Groucho Marx. While Mike and Liz are staring at her in bewilderment, Tracy peeks into the room and beams like she’s never been prouder of her sister. Once the song is finished, Tracy enters and praises Dinah in French, comparing her to Chopin, and then saying Dinah looks ill and she hopes it’s not smallpox, which freaks out Mike and Liz, but the audience knows it’s a private joke because earlier Tracy told Dinah that the only way she could postpone the wedding was to get smallpox. After Dinah leaves, it’s Tracy’s turn to confuse the reporters, and it is truly brilliant. The dialogue and the way it’s read, as Tracy turns the interview around and starts asking them invasive questions, is so good. Like when Tracy’s talking about how they don’t let any reporters in, “except for little Mr. Grace who does the social news. Can you imagine a grown-up man having to sink so low?” or when she’s welcoming them to Philadelphia and says, “It’s a quaint old place, don’t you think? Filled with relics, and how old are you, Mr. Connor?” It’s the seemingly accidental but actually very deliberate insults that get me. And then on top of that, there is some incredible yet subtle physical comedy going on throughout the conversation. Tracy accidentally-on-purpose pushes Mike and Liz into each other as she offers them seats, and there’s a whole very long bit between Tracy and Mike involving cigarettes, matches, and lighters that I didn’t even notice the first few times I watched it because I was too focused on what they were saying. It’s a thoroughly enjoyable scene all the way through, and every time I watch Tracy exit that room, leaving the reporters to ponder their bafflement, I have to applaud.

But the movie also excels at mixing some drama and seriousness in with the comedy. There’s a lot of focus on how Tracy demands perfection from herself and everyone around her, and as a result is missing out on the joys of human messiness. She makes a big deal about never drinking alcohol, although Dexter reveals that she did get drunk one time when they were married, and later remembered nothing about it. But after Dexter tells her that being married to her felt like being a high priest to a goddess, and George tells her that he worships her like a queen, and her father, who showed up uninvited, tells her she might just as well be made of bronze, Tracy gives in and starts drinking heavily at the party the night before her wedding, which was where Mike also got very drunk. Tracy and Mike meet up at Dexter’s house, then go back to her place, and dance and argue for a while until Mike kisses her and tells her that he sees her as a human being, which is a wonderful change of pace for her, so she suggests they go swimming together. Later, Dexter and George see Mike carrying Tracy back to the house, both of them in bathrobes, and George assumes the worst. The next morning, Tracy can’t remember what happened, but Dinah tells her that she saw Mike carry Tracy into her room – which is another excellent scene, Virginia Weidler was one of the best child actors of all time and people barely ever talk about her anymore, but she and Katharine Hepburn do a fabulous job of getting the point across that they both think Tracy slept with Mike the night before without breaking production codes. And then after that when Mike appears, he and Tracy have the most excruciatingly awkward conversation, and it’s so painful but so good. Dexter also shows up trying to comfort Tracy, and I love the way he doesn’t accuse her or condemn her or even ask her what happened, partly because he knows she doesn’t remember, partly because Mike told him nothing happened, but partly because you get the feeling that he wouldn’t think any less of her if she had drunkenly hooked up with Mike. And maybe that’s reading too much into this, but his reaction is certainly quite different from George’s, which I guess makes sense because technically she would have been cheating on George and not Dexter, but George doesn’t even let her explain before breaking up with her by note. He does finally show up in person as she’s reading the note aloud to Dexter, Mike, and Liz, and their confrontation is so well done – I particularly love Liz’s “Say something, stupid!” to Mike, who is just standing there listening to George accuse Tracy of having an affair with him. But after a while, Mike does eventually reveal that their so-called affair consisted of exactly two kisses and a rather late swim. Tracy and George don’t believe him at first, and then Tracy is offended, until he points out that she was very drunk and he didn’t want to take advantage of her. And like, I know that this movie was made in 1940, so the censors weren’t going to let Tracy actually have sex with another man the night before her wedding anyway, but I still can’t help loving the way they handled this. Tracy makes a bit of a fool of herself and learns that George is not the right man for her without going too far, and Mike demonstrates that it’s not that difficult to respect a woman’s autonomy and recognize when she is unable to consent.

I have a lot of mixed and complicated feelings about this story from an aroace perspective. On the one hand, it is very focused on romance and marriage. Also the whole thing about characters describing Tracy using phrases like “virgin goddess” and “perennial spinster, however many marriages” to illustrate her coldness and lack of human understanding is…not exactly an ace-affirming metaphor. On the other hand, I always appreciate stories about adults who have the chance to sleep together and choose not to, even when I know it’s at least partly because of production codes. And somehow, something about the way Dexter, Tracy, Mike, and Liz all interact give me hints of queer found family vibes, even though they end up paired off heterosexually. Maybe it’s the fact that it was directed by a gay man and features at least two probably queer actors that’s giving me that vibe, I don’t know. Another of my favorite scenes – I know, I have way too many – is when Dexter and Liz return to the Lord house after writing a blackmail note to Sidney Kidd. It’s a fairly short scene, but the way the two of them interact as platonic friends who understand each other but clearly don’t like each other romantically is not something I’m used to seeing in a scene featuring a man and a woman alone, and it makes me happy. Mike also has some great moments with Dexter, as does Tracy with Liz. I like to think that the four of them maintain their friendship after the events of the movie, rather than amatonormatively going off and doing their own thing with their spouse and forgetting about their friends. This movie does portray sex and romance as part of the human experience, but I don’t feel like it portrays them as the only important part. The message is all about pursuing the life that’s right for you, and not looking down on people who have different priorities, and when you look at it from that perspective, it actually is kind of ace-affirming, albeit probably unintentionally. But as I’ve indicated multiple times in previous episodes, asexual representation is so rare, and aromantic representation is even rarer, that if you can find an approximation of affirmation by tilting a story and squinting at it, even that feels exciting. That’s how low the bar is.

With that being said, as a teenager I definitely did relate to Tracy Lord, at least in terms of the way I was perceived. I think a lot of my peers thought that I thought I was better than them, when it was mostly that I just didn’t understand them. I don’t remember anyone calling me a goddess or a queen or a statue, but other middle and high schoolers definitely teased me for being “perfect”, which told me that they didn’t really see me as a person, so I felt Tracy’s pain and confusion when she got called out like that. I do think that like Tracy, I had a lot to learn about letting myself make mistakes and not judging other people too harshly for theirs, but I also still strongly feel that some of the criticism leveled at Tracy – and at me – was unwarranted. I can’t tell if the movie wants us to agree with Tracy’s father when he blames his philandering on not having the right kind of daughter, but I think that’s entirely unreasonable of him, and Tracy absolutely does not deserve that. And I’m not sure it’s fair of Dexter to blame her for contributing to his alcoholism, but at least Dexter takes some responsibility for his actions, unlike Seth Lord. I think my peers didn’t understand me any more than I understood them, but I probably could have cut them more slack and tried to get to know them better before writing most of them off as too different for me to possibly get to know. The circumstances in this movie are very different from being a high school misfit, but as a high schooler who often had trouble relating to movies that were actually about high school misfits, somehow this movie spoke to me. It was an escape from high school that also helped get me through high school. The story helped me become a less judgmental and more forgiving person toward others while also helping me feel better about being who I was unapologetically. I also got similar messages from other sources, so I don’t want to give this movie too much credit, but at the same time, I don’t think any single movie affected my teenage years more than this one, so I would certainly be a different person if I had never seen it.

The story of how this movie came about and what it led to is also very important to me. After appearing in several box office flops in the late 1930s – several of which made it onto this list – Katharine Hepburn left Hollywood for Broadway to star in and financially back the stage version of Philadelphia Story, which Philip Barry had written specifically for her. Howard Hughes purchased the film rights as a gift for Hepburn, with whom he had been romantically involved, although it seems like the romantic part of their relationship was over before that, so this is like My Man Godfrey in that it turned out the way it did partly because of exes who were still friends. Katharine Hepburn then sold the rights to Louis B. Mayer for only $250,000 on the condition that she would have input and veto power over producer, director, screenwriter, and cast. She got the director and writer she wanted, but her first choice for the two male leads – Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy – were unavailable. Gable reportedly hated George Cukor and was rumored to be at least partly responsible for the director being kicked off of Gone with the Wind, so it’s probably just as well that he wasn’t involved. Future lovers Hepburn and Tracy hadn’t even met yet at this point, so it would have been interesting if this was their first movie. But ultimately, Cary Grant came on board, under the condition that he would receive top billing, which feels a bit strange to see because Hepburn is clearly playing the main lead, but Grant also donated his entire salary to the British War Relief Society, so we can’t accuse him of too much selfishness. And James Stewart’s performance as Mike would earn him one of the film’s two Oscars, although he apparently thought that Henry Fonda should have won for The Grapes of Wrath, and that he had only received it as belated recognition for his performance in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington the previous year. Donald Ogden Stewart also won for Best Screenplay. The film was also nominated for Best Picture and Cukor was nominated for Best Director, and the performances of Katharine Hepburn and Ruth Hussey were nominated as well. The fact that Hepburn didn’t win – and lost to her rival Ginger Rogers, no less – indicates that Hollywood was still a little reluctant to welcome her back. But this movie crucially changed the public’s perception of Katharine Hepburn, transforming her from box office poison to a box office draw. They were calling her a has-been in 1938, but with The Philadelphia Story she showed them that she still had more to contribute, and her career took off in the 1940s, and lasted into the 1990s.

Even now, generations later, twenty years after Hepburn’s death, it’s easy to tell just by watching this movie why it was such a turning point for her. She completely embodies the spoiled socialite, but she makes Tracy sympathetic enough that when she is taken down a few pegs, as she needed to be, the audience feels sorry for her rather than gloating. Tracy is radiant enough that we understand why George worships her, yet she is down to earth enough that we understand her yearning to be seen not as an object of worship, but as a human being. Hepburn nails both the comedic scenes and the more serious dramatic scenes, with no hint of the desperately-trying-too-hard actress who comes across too often in some of her earlier films. While I obviously still love many of those films, watching this one feels like we’re seeing a Katharine Hepburn who has finally come into her own. There certainly was an element of trying to get the public to like her, but there’s no desperation about it. She gets this character, and knows how to make the audience get her too. I don’t think I could have found Tracy so relatable if she hadn’t been played like that. And listen, I’m thrilled that Ginger Rogers won an Oscar, especially because Hepburn would end up with four and didn’t really need this win, but if I had to pick one single all-time favorite film performance, I can’t think of any that would beat Katharine Hepburn’s Tracy Lord. Although I also have to say that I think Cary Grant’s performance as Dexter is incredibly underappreciated. I’ve said before that sometimes I have trouble taking him seriously in dramatic roles, but this was the ideal blend of seriousness and silliness for him, and he nails every emotional beat. He does an excellent job of showing the audience that he has grown and learned from the mistakes of his first marriage and is ready to move forward with healing his relationship with Tracy, which makes this a much better remarriage story than His Girl Friday, for example. There were a lot of movies made around this time about a divorced couple reconciling, mostly because that was the only way the Production Code allowed the scandalous topic of divorce to be addressed on film, but Philadelphia Story feels different from most of those. It’s more like Pride and Prejudice, if Pride and Prejudice started right after Elizabeth turned down Darcy’s first proposal. Both are about a couple who needed to grow and reflect before they could be happy together. I think those are my favorite kind of romances because they have less to do with attraction, which I don’t really understand, and more to do with trying to become the best version of oneself, which everyone can do regardless of how they feel about romance. Anyway, I’m a little sad that this was the last time Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn worked together, but I’m so glad they got to make this masterpiece before their careers diverged.

In 1956, The Philadelphia Story was remade as a musical film called High Society, which I watched 12 times. I enjoy that version too, although obviously not nearly as much as this version. It’s a fun romp, and the Cole Porter songs are great, but it doesn’t quite pack the same emotional punch as The Philadelphia Story. Strangely, considering I don’t think anything can touch Hepburn’s original portrayal, my favorite part of that movie is Grace Kelly’s performance as Tracy. She put her own spin on the character and was clearly having fun – probably at least partly because she’d already decided to retire from acting and marry a prince, and was wearing her actual engagement ring in the film. My biggest objection to High Society – and yes, I know I’ve complained about this too many times on this podcast but bear with me one more time – is the age gap between Dexter and Tracy. They’re supposed to have grown up together, but Bing Crosby was 26 years older than Grace Kelly, and their dynamic is just all wrong. The story doesn’t work if Dexter is old enough to be Tracy’s father! Whereas in Philadelphia Story, we’ve got Cary Grant who was born in 1904, Katharine Hepburn who was born in 1907, and James Stewart who was born in 1908. They were all basically the same age! It can be done! John Howard was born in 1913, so he was a bit younger, but I think that works for the way George looks up to and admires Tracy, and still that’s a relatively small gap. Anyway, we can add “getting actors of appropriate ages” to the long list of things The Philadelphia Story did right.

So there we have it. I’ve talked about all of my top 40 most frequently rewatched movies of my first 20 years of keeping track. Thank you so much for listening to all my rambling! I hope you’ve found this entertaining and informative – I know I have. I’m planning to do one more epilogue episode in a few weeks summarizing what I’ve learned from this project, so stay tuned for that if you’re interested. I also have lots of other ideas for movie-related podcasts that may or may not come to fruition, we’ll see. Since I don’t know what the next movie I’ll podcast about will be, I’ll leave you with one last quote from The Philadelphia Story: “We all go haywire at times, and if we don’t, maybe we ought to.”

#the philadelphia story #george cukor #katharine hepburn #cary grant #james stewart #i love this movie so much #this project has been a lot of fun #i'll be back with a conclusions episode soon-ish #but i'm going to take a break first

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jvstheworld · 2 years ago

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The Buffy Re-watch: S1E9 (part 1)

What's my Line?: Part 1

Career fairs. We had one at my school, never went to it. Those tests weren't a part of it though, from what I know. More just stalls and people chatting.

Even here Buffy does not think she would have have a life beyond slaying and an early death.

Spike has a Latin translation book. Yet he wasn't thrilled at getting a Italian phrase book from his trip in season 5 in Angel.

Spike immediately apologises to Dru for being angry and rushes to help her when she is struggling. He's supposed to be evil but he's a sweetheart really.

He's obsessed with Buffy, we know it even now.

Ermm... Can I be kissed like that? Because that was hot. And then he picks Dru and dances with her. Again, evil but romantic.

Angel just casually hanging out in Buffy's room, cuddling Mr Gordo. The hanging out in Buffy's room is weird, like why not wait on the bench on the porch? But the cuddling the pig was cute.

So in my last post I said that I would make a very long point. It will get a bit personal, so here it is: I hate how schools and parents try to make you have an idea about your future at 16. it's stupid and puts unwanted pressure on teenagers. Let's face it, no one, especially nowadays, knows what the fuck they are going to do with the rest of their lives. I was one of those people that never knew at that age and that was 11 years ago. I've only recently figured it out, which is why I write these posts. Not because it's fun (it is but that's not the main reason) but because I am practicing to hopefully do this as a career. But, with the advent of AI journalism and writing, there might not be much of a job for me, and that's terrifying. It's why I support the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, not just because they deserve to be paid, residuals and have all the safety protocols they need, but for the job security that AI can take away. You should not be able to replace humans with algorithms that churn out mis-mashed, stolen work. Kids and teenagers are still learning about their place in the world, some might have a clear idea of what they want to do, and they should be helped to achieve it. For people like Buffy and myself, we need more time. We need to believe that we might have a future before we can plan for one. I know that Buffy does eventually get a future and a job she is proud to do in the comics, but it is an extremely long road for her to get there. Struggling and finding your place in the world is normal, more so in recent years. I don't know how many times I have listened to my dad talk about how he knew at 18 that he wanted to join the RAF. He signed up when he could after being turned down for working at the local coal mine (this was in the 80s). He knew what he wanted to do and did it. However, I can not ever seem to make it clear to him that I struggle with this and I don't think he approves of my choice to do this sort work because he doesn't understand the interest I have in films and TV. Some of my favourite YouTube channels are Cinema Therapy, Cinema Wins and Dead Meat because they get it. They have that passion for film and TV and that interest into how it's all made. Now if I had the confidence to create and run my own YouTube channel, I would. Unfortunately due to my anxiety, depression and chronic health issues that like to cause me problems I have to stick to just this. But there is nothing wrong with not knowing what you want to do when you're 16 or older. You can work it out as you go, it might just take some time and maybe better circumstances . Just focus on getting through school and go from there. Don't let anyone pressure you into making decisions about your life if you're not ready for it.

If that made no sense, sorry. If it did, yay. I wrote it in my notes as almost one long stream of consciousness. This happens on occasion.

Back to regular scheduled programming tomorrow.

#buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #angel #spike #buffy rewatch #tv show thoughts #btvs s2

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tseneipgam · 1 year ago

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"Close-ups of nail art, a pebble from outer space, a tarantulas compound eyes, a storm like canned peaches on the surface of Jupiter, Van Gogh's The Potato Eaters, a chihuahua perched on a man's erection, a garage door spray-painted with the words STOP! DON'T EMAIL MY WIFE! Why did the portal feel so private, when you only entered it when you needed to be everywhere? She felt along the solid green marble of the day for the hairline crack that might let her out. This could not be forced."

"Where had the old tyranny gone, the tyranny of husband over wife? She suspected most of it had been channeled into weird ideas about supplements, whether or not vinyl sounded "warmer," and which coffeemakers were nothing but a shit in the mouth of the coffee christ. "A hundred years ago you would have been mining coal and had fourteen children all named Jane,"'she often marveled, as she watched a man stab a finger at his wife in front of the Keurig display. "Two hundred years ago, you might have been in a coffee shop in Göttingen, shak- ing the daily paper, hashing out the questions of the day--and I would be shaking out sheets from the windows, not know- ing how to read." But didn't tyranny always feel like the hand of the way things were?"

"It was a mistake to believe that other people were not living as deeply as you were. Besides, you were not even living that deeply. The amount of eavesdropping that was going on was enor- mous, and the implications not yet known. Other people's diaries streamed around her. Should she be listening, for in- stance, to the conversations of teenagers? Should she follow with such avidity the compliments that rural sheriffs paid to porn stars, not realizing that other people could see them? What about the thread of women all realizing they had the exact same scar on their knee? "I have that scar too!" "

"A person might join a site to look at pictures of her nephew and five years later believe in a flat earth."

"As she began to type, "Enormous fatberg made of grease, wet wipes, and condoms is terrorizing London's sewers, " her hands began to waver in their outlines and she had to rock the crown of her head against the cool wall, back and forth, back and forth. What, in place of these sentences, marched in the brains of previous generations? Folk rhymes about planting turnips, she guessed."

"Every time she passed the model train store she clenched her fists and said, "You did this…" And it was true, it was tris life as we knew it was coming to an end because 160 years ag% of whatever, some old weirdo who was obsessed with trains had to invent trains because trains didn't exist yet. Choo-choo, motherfucker, are you happy now?"

"The only thing that bound us together was this belief: that in every other country they eat unspeakable food; worship gods more see-through than glass; string together only the most meaningless syllables, like g00-g00-g00-goo-goo-goo-goo; are war- like but not noble; do not help the dead cross in the proper boats; do not send the correct incense up to the wide blue nos- trils; crawl with whatever crawls; do not love their children, not the way we do; bare the most tempting body parts and cover the most mundane; cup their penises to protect them from supernatural forces; their poetry is piss; they do not respect the moon; slice the little faces of our familiars into the stewpot."

"The Cairns must be holy, she thought when she visited, for the air around her was doubled, tripled, with remixed and humming life. Old robes and old bones swished past her on their way to cookfires, a mist of eyes looked up to mark the place of the sun in the sky, and the ruddy cows on the oppo- site hillside spoke to each other in words that were almost comprehensible: life, death, Im spilling over, green grass. They said all you needed to be remembered was one small stone piled on another, and wasn't that what we were doing in the portal, small stone on small stone on small stone?"

"On the Isle of Skye, she and her husband ate langoustines at a restaurant overlooking a long gray ridge of rock with a light- house at the tip of it, and laughed at the herds of tourists who insisted on visiting lighthouses wherever they went. "Some things!" her husband whispered. "Are the same! No matter where you go!" But later, taking an afternoon out of the portal to read Virginia Woolf, she realized that that must have been it, the lighthouse the family sails to on the final page. Was that the final page? Or did the book end with herself and her hus- band, cracking the red backs of little sweet creatures, cutouts of each other and all the same, and laughing at the people who moved in one wave, the family who went to the Lighthouse?"

"Your attention is holy," she told the class, as her phone buzzed uncontrollably in her back pocket, for a long-ago joke she had made about a Florida politician "who nearly died during elective taint-lengthening surgery' was receiving renewed at- tention that morning. "It is the soul spending itself,"

"Context collapse! That sounded pretty bad, didn't it? And also like the thing that was happening to the honeybees?"

"CIA Confirms "Charlie Bit My Finger" Was on One of Osama bin Laden's Computers Also a file called assss.jpeg."

"We were being radicalized, and how did that feel? Like we had just stepped into a Girl Scout uniform made of fire. Like the skies had abruptly shifted to the stripes of an old Soviet poster, and the cookies we carried through green and well-watered neighborhoods had been cut by the guillotine. We were being radicalized, yes, even though we owned personalized goblets that said Wine O'Clock, even though we still read the Old Gray Lady every morning with not nearly enough of a sneer on our faces! SHOOT IT IN MY VEINS, we said, whenever the head- line was too perfect, the juxtaposition too good to be true. SHOOT IT IN MY VEINS, we said, when the Flat Earth Society announced it had members all over the globe."

"The portal's favorite stories, now, were about interracial friends who met playing online Scrabble and eventually invited each other to Thanksgiving dinner. One of them must be very old, old enough to have been on the wrong side of the civil rights movement, and one of them must be very young, young enough that their face was like a fresh lightbulb. They must encounter each other's traditional dishes with an equal amount of surprise and familiarity, they must take pictures of them- selves sitting down at the feather-flocked table, and, most im- portant, they must do it again next year. We reveled in these stories, which were not untrue. But there was some untruth in the degree to which they comforted us."

"Modern womanhood was more about rubbing snail mucus on your face than she had thought it would be. But it had always been something, hadn't it? Taking drops of arsenic. Winding bandages around the feet. Polishing your teeth with lead. It was so easy to believe you freely chose the paints, polishes, and waist-trainers of your own time, while looking back with tre- mendous pity to women of the past in their whalebones; that you took the longest strides your body was capable of, while women of the past limped forward on broken arches."

"Our enemies! ... Had they made us weak with intermittent fasting? Had they wasted our evenings with the detective show that no one could understand? Had they done this to make American novels bad for a time? Were they distracting our anarchists with polyamory and meal replacement drinks, so nothing could get done? Had they bloated us with homebrew? Had they made Christianity viable again? Had they brought back snap-crotch bodysuits?"

"What do you mean you've been spying on me? she thought- hot, blind, unreasoning, on the toilet. What do you mean you've been spying on me, with this thing in my hand that is an eye? How were we supposed to write now that we could no longer compare anything to a phantom limb? Was the phrase "the Braille of her nipples" to be absolutely retired? Were we just never to say that someone "inclined her head like a geisha" ever again? Could we not call the weather bipolar without risking the prison of public opinion? Not imply that bird- watchers are autistic? Could we not say the crescent moon was "as slender as a poor person"? Not say the sun "crashed inevi- tably into the mountains like a woman driver"? Take all shades and strengths of coffee away, if we could no longer hold it up to people's faces!"

and the only way it was possible to comfort herself anymore was to stand in front of the mirror and say out loud, "Cows don't know about him."

"MY SAFE! she found herself screaming two days later, kneeling below her husband's work window with a needle standing in every pore, a pair of balled-up panties stuck to one leg and clutching to her chest what appeared to be a dictio- nary. "GET DOWN HERE AND OPEN MY SAFE!" She had tried every number that she could think of-_the sex num- ber, the antichrist number, the twin towers number-_but he grimly took the safe from her and freed it with 1-2-3-4. "Oh," she said, slumping with relief, her body unlocking as soon as the phone was in her hand, "that's good, that's funny. Like learning to count. Like Sesame Street." That night the safe went in the back of the closet, where the words NEW EN- GLISH could not wink at her any longer, and they never spoke of it again, and that was love, that was what love was now."

"Self-care, she thought, and sprinkled in her tub a large quan- tity of an essential oil that smelled like a Siberian forest. But when she lowered herself into the trembling water, what she would have referred to in the portal as her b'ole began to burn with such a white-hot medieval fire that she stood straight up in the bath and shouted the name of a big naked god she no longer believed in, and as strong rivers flowed off her in every direction she did not remember the conditions of the modern moment at all, she was unaware of anything ex- cept the specific address of her own body, which meant either that the hot bath had worked to restore her to herself, or else that she would have sold out her neighbors to the regime in an instant, one or the other."

"and tell him to go suck a poison pussy, sweetie Was it entirely his fault? Lately it seemed every man on the planet was about to burst from a supplement sold to him by another man with exactly the same set of opinions. "Mom, I want you to check Dad's medicine cabinet," she said one day during her weekly call. "Check and make sure he's not secretly taking some supplement with a bullshit name like Destroy Her with Logic 5000 + Niacin."

"It's nonsense!" a man hollered at her, rising unsteadily on his cane. He had read about the event in the physical newspaper. He signed every one of his texts, Love, Grandpa. "It's not nonsense! It's folk art!" she hollered back. Like those early American women who painted kids with enormous fore- heads, either because they didn't know how to paint regular foreheads or because it was a stylistic choice!

"Our politicians had never been so authentic, so linked arm in arm with the common people. "My favorite meat is hot dog, by the way," one told us. "That is my favorite meat. My second favorite meat is hamburger. And, everyone says, oh, don't you prefer steak? It's like, I know steaks are great, but I like hot dog best, and I like hamburger next best." And we shivered with recognition, and a vague vote grew solid in our hands, for we too liked hot dog best, and hamburger next best. We were the common people, on whom it all rested, and we lived in diners, and we went to church at the gas station, and our mother was a dirty mattress in the front yard, and we liked, God dammit, hot dog best."

"Her cousin, born the odd year before her, was autistic, at a time when they still blamed refrigerator mothers. Before he got too strong and was sent away, her aunt had built for him in the basement of her mansion a miniature kitchen. It was thought, somehow, that this bright and well-ordered corner of verisimil- itude would help him break into real life. Little T-bones, shaped like South America, dewy ears of corn, false cans with actual labels. But he cared nothing for this, he cared only for music, he slapped his temples to the pulse, and as he grew taller and turned the beat louder and louder it became clear they had it all backward: real life was in him, trying to burst the miniatur- ization of the body, little T-bones, dewy ears."

"A certain look used to come over her aunt's face as she crossed and held her son's wrists behind his back, in that imitation kitchen full of imitation food. It made her wonder if she ought to have children, for anything could happen, and you didnt know if you were up to it, how could you know if you were up to it? But she thought just as often of a little girl with pigrails who came running down the aisle of a plane toward her once, and patted her all over her arms and legs as she passed, and it was like a rain of soft blue bruiseless plums. She felt the surprise of it long after the girl was gone, and as she contemplatively sipped vodka from a shampoo bottle in the bathroom, a bloom came suddenly all over her skin: maybe she was up to it, after all."

"Her wish for the next generation was for them to be spared an age when numbers got sick- swarmed, clumped together, went plummeting off cliffs-_and the numbers were human beings. But could what they had started be stopped? "

"because when a dog runs to you and nudges against your hand for love and you say automatically, I know, I know, what else are you talking about except the world?"

"The theme they had chosen was swans, serene and graceful, though the only swan she had ever per- sonally met had stared her down outside the Kafka Museum in Prague and then attacked. It had chased her all the way down to the water, its half-a-heart neck stretched out in a scream, but of course, she had understood later, its nest must have been somewhere near."

"She held the little hand and waited for its wilted pink squeeze, like the handshake of a lily. She stroked the heaving back--how hard it was, to haul the body through even a single day- and traced the new brown down on the baby's forehead. She leaned over the child and said something; she said, 'It is going to be just like your mother."

#book

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 6 years ago

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Favored Ones, Part 5. (Joel Miller x Fem!reader)

Description: When you spend every evening with someone who’s deeply under your skin, a certain relationship can be developed. So it’s crushing for Joel when Y/N suddenly disappears. But there’s way more to the relationship that one would’ve guessed.

A/N: Inspired by Ecstasy by Crooked Still (Bitches who saw TLoU Part II. E3 trailer know what’s uppp).

Warning: ANGST bcs knife dad Joel Miller is full of anger and he needs a fucking break. I swear.

Tagging: @jodiereedus22 @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme

Word count: 2.9 K

If you like this story, please, more parts can be found here! :): H E R E

One day prior events of the hunt, 2038:

And so your plan was born. The great plan, as Ellie called it. Ellie was about to tell Dina and she was extremely nervous.

You were pretty calm thanks to your impulsive behavior - you finally calmed down during those last two weeks and prepared for confronting the old man with the intel Ellie gave you.

Joel already knew that your hunting lessons are far gone by that moment. He was a bit sad about that - though he hated to say it, he missed those evenings. He was missing those moments when you two walked in the woods and talked, sometimes you shut up in one second and the other one you both were in a hunting mood, trying to show the other one who's wearing pants and who's capable of hunting down more animals.

He usually won. But when thought about it... He liked your competitions. Joel tried to tell himself that there's no place for having any melancholy at those times. But he saw you a few times here and there in the city while you were walking around with that fisherman's son.

So was he right in the end? You truly were into that boy. And as far as Joel could tell, he was in love with so much it almost hurt his eyes. That kiddo was obsessed with your every move.

But it made him think - you had enough time to be with that kiddo, but you didn't have enough time to improve your hunting skills, which made him furrow. Joel decided that he needs to investigate that situation. And what could have been better than talking to Ellie? So he joined her on her walk through the small town.

"Well, nice to see you after a long time, old man. Will you come to today's meeting about that city exploration we're planning next week?" - Ellie smiled at him and took some sweet potatoes you, she and Dina planned to grill on hot coal. The next thing she needed was some onion and chicken meat. You definitely were the best cook.

"I think I need to. I haven't been to one since October. I had too much work with those kiddos. You and your friends are scheduled?" - Joel tried to ask innocently. He was walking alongside Ellie throughout the whole market.

"Yeah. But Dina and Y/N probably won't make it to the meeting at all. Jesse will be there as always. Why? Do you need something specific?" - Ellie stopped and her smooth lips parted. She was thinking about Joel's motivation behind his questioning. It was almost six months ago since she and Joel had a proper conversation just like that.

"They won't?" - Joel rose his eyebrows and mist slowly came out of his lips. - "How so? Dina doesn't have time and Y/N is ill, or what?"

"No. They're going on the dance night. Dina is after a breakup and Y/N is going there with Philip." - Ellie turned back to the seller and pointed her finger on the best looking chicken breasts. - "But why would you care, big guy? These girls aren't your responsibility."

"Yeah. But I kinda noticed that Y/N is really good at letting her responsibilities be just as they are in the last two weeks." - Joel took the chicken meat and gave it to Ellie so the marketer would not interrupt their conversation.

"Is she? I haven’t noticed at all." - Ellie was playing on really thin ice, but she was smiling and she knew it really well, because she finally figured out what Joel is after. You and your time management. That would not be anything bad - if he cared about the others as well. She looked at him with her eyes partially closed, but didn't say anything.

"I did. She isn't coming on our training, didn't talk to me for the last two weeks, she doesn't go to the forest anymore and she isn't on most of the meetings." - Joel put his forearms crossed in front of his chest, furrowing at Ellie. - "Is it the kiddo from the lake? She's rather irresponsible these days. If she doesn't stop, it will have bad consequences."

"Philip?" - Ellie stopped again and looked Joel in the eyes. - "Also, why you're so concerned about her? She told me that she doesn't need your training anymore, she's capable of hunting on her own. Something happened between you two?" - Ellie furrowed her brows at Joel. So maybe he could be interested in some way - no, Ellie corrected herself. He was interested. He never thought about anyone's time schedule when they stopped training with Joel. Joel just didn't care enough to ask.

It maybe wasn't exactly the flame of endless affection, but he was thinking about you. That was a good sign.

"Does something need to happen for me to be curious?" - Joel looked far away from Ellie because he started to feel uncomfortable. Joel wasn't aware that Ellie knew about your crush on him; nor did he knew that you had told her. Yet he was feeling uncomfortable. - "I'm just worried about her future. That's all."

"Riiiight. About her future. Ok. But she's not in any bad hands. Don't be worried." - Ellie patted his shoulder. So that was probably all that he will get out of Ellie. - "But on another note, will you come tonight on the dance? I would like to have a round or two with you. Just like old times, huh?"

"You know that those things aren't exactly mine area, do you?" - Joel chuckled in his low, singing voice. He scratched his forehead nervously.

"You can ask Y/N yourself, don't you think? I can't speak for her." - Ellie raised her eyebrows in his direction. Joel looked at her as if she was about to go fucking crazy. - "About the hunting sessions, I mean."

When the big dance came by, you went with there with Philip by your side. Dina came along as well, not even thinking about going on the meeting to stand Jesse's ass one more minute. They had broken up again, so everything was going a-ok for that shy lesbian.

Ellie went to the meeting with Joel and Jesse - and she promised you that she'll try to talk Joel down. Nothing was for sure.

But you knew one thing - you and Dina started your evening with glasses of whiskey down and its bottoms up. You poured down at least three of them, so you would be able to let Philip's hands roam around your body. It did nothing to you, yet you needed to let him be during the dance. You were suffering every time he tried to touch you.

Slowly, the band members, with whom you've been drinking until that moment, sat behind their instruments and started playing as the hall started to get fuller - with people of all ages, like children, youngsters, and adults.

You gently dodged all of Philip's tries to make you dance with him. You sighed with relief when Ellie slowly entered the room with he faced red from nerves and winter outside. Oh, yeah - it was her big evening. Telling Dina. You were excited.

You waved at her as you danced with a small boy named Louis. She waved back at you and took a glass of bourbon as well. She was excited about that. Then you left Louis there to catch up with the young ladies in the hood to go for Ellie.

"Hi, baby." - She hugged you tightly and gave you a second glass of alcohol. - "I hope that I'll survive this night. God may help me. What about Philip?" - She asked and gulped a bit.

"We're playing dodge all the time. I just don't like that boy, I'm sorry. I'm waiting for the big game to come around." - You giggled into the glass. Oh fuck, you were tipsy as hell.

"There he is." - Ellie pointed her finger at the other side of the hall. Seriously Joel stood there nervously, with hands over his chest, looking around him. - "Here, take this to him and see how it goes." - She gave you her glass of alcohol and smacked your ass playfully. You screamed a bit with a happy tone. Ellie showed you crossed fingers and one corner of her lips slowly crept into a smile.

So you approached Joel with your tipsy walk and lazy smile, rising your eyebrows. You gave him one glass and then smoothed your hair. The shirt you had on made your boobs irresistible. Every man must've looked at them at least once. Those old jeans were making your bum rounder... No wonder that Philip was into you so much.

"Look who we got here." - You gulped down the while glass and giggled, putting the glass on the table next to his hip. - "Really nice to see you here big guy, enjoying the life, having fun in the evening."

"Ellie wished me to come. Here she's with Dina." - He pointed at them and you just turned around to see them kissing. Good girl. Now, it was your time to hit the big jackpot. - "Oh wow."

"Do you want to dance as well?" - You blurted out so Joel didn't have to ask you absolutely anything. He just couldn't as he froze down. - "I mean... Ellie told me you wanted to ask me about something. A slow song is playing now, we have the time. What do you say?" - You asked innocently and played with the thought of taking his fingers into your palm, but you didn't do it.

"Youngblood..." - Joel sighed and drank the glass to the bottom.

"Just one dance. Come on. Won't hurt you, old man." - Joel looked at the people around you and then sighed again. He wasn't happy at all with you. But how could he resist?

You took a very similar hold on him as Dina did with Ellie; your hands circled behind his neck, your body so close to him that he felt how warm your body was. He put his hands on the small of your back and tried to look as annoyed as he could.

The trust was that Joel hadn't danced in the whole eternity. He was enjoying himself a lot at the moment, to be honest. Slow moves, gentle and romantic music, relaxed atmosphere, beautiful girl... No. He stopped himself with the melancholy. No space for that bullshit.

"So you stopped our sessions, you stopped the meetings, anything that I've missed? Or that's all?" - He asked quietly, his thumbs playing with a small part of your shirt.

"Oh, you missed my relationship with the nicest boy around." - You said sweetly and watched his jaw covered in a beard. Oh, how you missed that view. But now, you were too sensitive on the rhythm of his breath and on how warm he was even through the clothes. His chuckle resonated deep within you.

"Hard to be missed, youngblood. It's nice to see you happy." - He made you turn slowly before one of his hands caught yours and the second ended on your hip.

"I can be even happier. You know that?" - Your fingers gripped his shoulder tightly and for a moment, you pressed his body into his. And with that, he left you alone. He just stepped aside and you felt as your heart sank again. No. You slowly rose your head. Not this fucking time. This time, you were ready.

"And I don't do these things. You know that?" - Joel turned around with angry mumbling. - "So that's why Ellie made come here... Jesus Christ." - And with that, every of his one hundred and eighty centimeters disappeared into the white darkness outside.

"What the fuck is your fucking problem?!" - You ran after him, looking at him while the snow started to cover your hair and face. Your cheeks instantly reddened as you looked at him. He turned to you with the same affection as you yelled at him. Oh, this argument was about to be one of the best of your lives.

"What the fuck is my problem?" - Joel came closer to you, almost pushing you further away with his hands, but he stopped himself at the right moment. - “The question is what is your problem?”

“My problem is named Tess and your grief over her.” - You told slowly and then you stood up straightly. Joel just closed his eyes and turned away from you. Yeah, Ellie spoke to you about a woman who she knew for a very short amount of time. As she spoke about Tess five years apart, she figured out that there maybe was something more. So that was the spot you should attack if Joel gives you a chance. Just as she attacked Sarah’s little spot in Joel’s heart.

“Stop living in the past, Joel.” - You said loudly again, while Joel looked like he’s about to murder you. Nobody else knew about what happened to Tess, except Tommy, nor anybody knew that she did even exist.

Joel attacked every time someone attacked his own past. Then it was his time to be offensive.

“Like somebody who is still a kid, who basically never went outside the city’s boundaries and who has everything they need around them could ever tell me what living in the past is.” - He walked to you, his nostrils were getting bigger as he started to breathe louder. - “So I warn you to let all of this be and walk back, take that kiddo for a round or two and forget that we ever had this conversation.”

“Or what if you fucking tell me, that you want to have... Something with me? How does that sound?” - You came closer to him, still not touching him.

The snowy and cold air was slowly getting sultry. You needed to open up his eyes - Ellie told you everything she noticed while Joel caught up with her on the market. You spoke with her about that and Ellie told you that there might be something more into it, but that Joel is a much more complicated person to say for sure to say it. That he likes you.

“Just face it, Jesus fucking Christ, it is not that hard. You were curious about me stoping to come to our training, you asked about me and Philip even if you didn't have to care at all and you tried to get some intel from Ellie.” - You rolled your eyes and chills formed on your body. You two stood in a total snowy and ice-cold night. Fucking weather. - “And if you told me that you only care about my future, then you can shove this bullshit up your ass because I don't fucking care. Because you and me? We have something. We have a connection.”

So you brought up Tess, which hurt him - but Ellie was your source of information. He couldn't be angry with his baby girl because she told you after the two of them spoke at the market. She had to. She was trying to help the situation.

He wasn't sure, but something gave Joel the feeling that Ellie knows him way better he knows himself.

For a moment, Joel closed his eyes before looking at you once again without any of his normally forbidden feelings. You were a young, truly gorgeous woman. You were bright and capable of noticing small details even if you cursed like a sailor.

He wasn't doing any type of romantic relationship since the moment Tess has died. He wasn't exactly in love with her, but she was his girl for a long night. But you were absolutely right - there was no need for living in the past. And Joel was scared of it when the past was creeping up upon him almost every time he went to sleep.

And yet, there you stood, offering him a helping hand to let all of it go. You were offering him to bring him back to reality. And as you said, maybe the elders, like your very own parents, won't be too happy about that. Maybe young people will look at you differently. But you had courage which Joel was mesmerized with. You wanted to try.

To try leaving the past, both yours and his, behind you to focus on the future. And that was one of the bravest things he saw until that day.

In his own way, he missed your sense of humor, your cursing and your gentle fingers holding your bow just as he misses the way you smelled and smiled at him.

He wanted to try as well.

"You're right." - Joel said slowly and almost coldly, which made your heart sank with fear once again. - "I think that maybe we have something together."

"So is that a yes?" - You whispered and shook with coldness once again. Jesus, you needed to get on a warm place or a glass of whiskey. Maybe both.

"I think that it is a yes."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel x reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie and joel tlou #ellie tlou #joel tlou #ellie the last of us #joel the last of us #naughty dog #naughty dog games

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dhiatzs · 5 years ago

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Why Jeremiah Rawson from Gentleman Jack should have a redemption arc

Okay I’m obsessing over this but I need Jeremiah Rawson to have a redemption arc so much?? Like I know he and his brother are antagonists but ever since I started watching the series I've got a feeling about him, that he might not be a bad person?

Jeremiah feels like he's been dragged by his brother into the bad situations they’re in and just tries to deal with it even though he can't be as competent and imposant as him or Anne??? and ffs i need him to get away from Christopher and start an honest business of his own???? Please????

Like:

He's introduced as "manageable" while Christopher is the one making horrible things and thinking he can't be punished for his actions. Also Jeremiah is described as the younger one and Christopher as the older one, which makes me think Christopher might have an influence on him?

"Because you told me to! (silence) It’s never sat comfortably with me. Even when she wasn’t here and didn’t seem to be doing anything with her coal. We ought to do the proper thing and make an offer, and then we can mine the stuff legally and..." excuse me but like Jeremiah just wants to... do the right thing... stop exploiting the coal illegally... stop stealing... if it wasn't for his brother he wouldn't be doing shit...????

He’s so unaware of all the shits Christopher does that he falls easily into Anne’s trap when she asks about the gig. Like. Don't think Jeremiah is not cautious. He's not as clever as Anne, but from ep 2 to 4 we only saw him as someone worried and cautious, and that's how he realizes the issue about the mine's surface while Christopher doesn't pay attention. But what we learn about the fact he just gives away the information about the gig is that Christopher did hurt the boy and Jeremiah didn't know it happened. How would he? His brother is someone described as not caring about the law. Jeremiah can't keep up with all his actions, and Christopher probably hide what he does from Jeremiah since Jeremiah isn’t comfortable with breaking the law

So yeah my point is: Jeremiah is just trying to manage and can't cover his brother because his brother probably doesn't tell him about his behaviour.

ALSO THIS???? LIKE???? JEREMIAH GENUINELY TRIES TO HELP ANNE BY GIVING HER AN ADVICE BECAUSE CHRISTOPHER IS DANGEROUS?????

“ We have to agree to her price for this upper bed. You have to let me go and offer her what she’s asking. “ He like. Insists. Christopher is literally the only one preventing him from- ffs.

the fact the script mentions here that he says something bravely like... Jeremiah is a puddle of stress and fear about the dishonesty Christopher forced him into... And like I’ve got this idea that he could be scared of his brother? Because Christopher is fucking scary??? Anyways Jeremiah is canonically opposing to Christopher for the second time here and I’m so proud of him for that

Also he doesn’t know shit about the dude who beat off Anne and Anne says it herself

Please give the dude the occasion to get away from Christopher and act on his own without being a problem to anyone

also let him be happy

#gentleman jack #anne lister #jeremiah rawson #christopher rawson #bbc gentleman jack

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coll2mitts · 5 years ago

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#67 Muppets Most Wanted (2014)

"We're sorry, Kermit. We're sorry we didn't notice you were missing. We're sorry we didn't tell you often enough how much you mean to all of us. We're sorry we ever took you for granted. But, that’s never going to happen again... Kermit, we convinced ourselves that evil frog was you because he gave us what we thought we wanted. When what we really wanted... What we really needed... Was you, Kermit. The actual, real you."

After The Muppets, I was fully prepared to eat my own shoes instead of watch this movie. My only motivation was the light at the end of the tunnel. Much like the Genie at the end of Aladdin, I would have fulfilled my end of the bargain and finally be freed from having to watch any more Muppet movies ever again. But something unlikely happened... They began The Muppets Most Wanted admitting their fans at the end of The Muppets were paid extras. They were transparent about a sequel being a not-as-good cash grab. The opening number was referential to the original sequel, The Great Muppet Caper, but the lyrics were self-aware, self-deprecating and peak Muppet.

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I’ll even go on record as liking this movie a great deal. I was able to forgive the product placement, the obligatory Disney references, the pop songs, and the 7000 cameos because this movie felt like... an apology? Like they had watched the last movie and realized it was hollow, and the spirit of Kermit was steamrolled by their desperation to emotionally connect to the audience.

True to Muppet fashion, their opening number states the stakes of the movie, Ricky Gervais (...ugh) approaches The Muppets with the idea of managing them during a World Tour. Kermit, being a level-headed frog, is hesitant to sign with someone named Dominic Badguy, and doesn’t want to rush into something new without establishing a proper show beforehand. Striking while the iron is hot with your new IP is not enough of a reason to rush out a project.

Kermit is eventually persuaded to hire Dominic, but books a series of smaller venues to ease them into the swing of things.

“Looks like they put the reviews up early!” “Yeah, or is that the suggestion box?”

The Muppets are disappointed by this, and are easily swayed by Dominic to bet big and rent extremely large venues under the assumption they will sell out their shows and make the money back. Kermit is against this at first (voting for “just giving up” instead of “believing in themselves”), but he goes along with the group because he was outnumbered. The content of the show is also a point of contention, as Kermit suggests they play to their strengths, because if the show isn’t successful, they might not have jobs after the tour. This concern is also brushed off, as Dominic tells Gonzo sure, bulls running around the stage sounds like a great idea, the magnetic bomb-attractor vest will be a useful invention, and Miss Piggy should be singing 4 or 5 Celine Dion classics a night.

While Kermit is disappointed, Dominic tells him to take a walk in East Berlin to clear his mind. We then find out this is a setup to kidnap Kermit and send him to a Siberian Gulag so Dominic and the The Most Dangerous Frog in the World can schedule The Muppets to perform in venues directly next to museums that hold clues and trinkets that will assist them in stealing the Crown Jewels.

Much like The Great Muppet Caper, this movie revolves around case of mistaken identity between bad frog Constantine and good frog Kermit, with their only differentiating feature being a mole on Constantine’s face. After Kermit is kidnapped, Constantine assumes his identity, and although Constantine has a Russian accent and speaks in Muppet one-liners, he’s covered his mole in green grease paint, so the cast has no idea anything is amiss.

As artifacts go missing, Sam Eagle from the CIA and Jean Pierre Napoleon from Interpol are on the case! They dislike each other at first, as everything Sam Eagle does is comically overstated and American, while everything Jean Pierre does is comically understated and European. They gradually come to respect each other, connect the dots, and determine The Muppets... are too stupid to perform a series of heists.

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Meanwhile, Kermit is having a hard time acclimating to prison life. Nadja, the prison warden, played Tina Fey (with a really terrible accent, which I can’t tell is supposed to be terrible as a gag, or it just is?) thwarts all his attempts to escape. Kermit grows to accept he is stuck in the Gulag and his friends are not going to come and rescue him. To distract him, Nadja puts him in charge of the annual lighthearted Gulag Review, and Kermit’s practice with wrangling the Muppets make him perfect for the job of wrangling hardened criminals, like The Prison King (Jemaine Clement), Big Papa (Ray Liotta) and Danny Trejo (Danny Trejo).

Walter is suspicious something strange is going on with their tour, because he seems to be the only Muppet with critical thinking skills. He shadows Dominic and finds him bribing Robert Crawley to post good reviews of “The Muppet Show” and pay people to put butts in seats. When Walter informs Fozzie, he laments they didn’t think of doing that before, but when Walter suggests that Constantine may have replaced Kermit...

They strike out to find Kermit so he can restore order to this entire debacle, but he’s now neck deep in Gulag Review rehearsals. Even when his friends show up and convince him he needs to leave, Nadja is hesitant to let him go because she’s formed a mild attachment to him.

They stage a breakout during one of the Gulag Review musical numbers, which just happens to be about working in a coal mine, equip with pick axes that dig everyone out of the prison and to safety.

While they were gone, Miss Piggy begins to suspect something is off with “Kermit”, especially since he seemed OK with Fozzie and Walter leaving the show. In an attempt to pacify her, “Kermit” escalates his affection toward her until it, of course, all culminates in a wedding between Bad Frog and Miss Piggy, even though the last time the Real Kermit spoke with her, they got in a massive fight about her obsession with planning a wedding when he hadn’t even proposed yet. "Kermit” also books The Tower of London as the wedding venue, so Dominic can use the artifacts they’ve stolen to steal the Crown Jewels while everyone else is distracted.

The wedding does not go as planned, though, as Good Frog Kermit shows up and prevents Miss Piggy from marrying the wrong guy. Upon being found out, Constantine decides to drop one more Muppet one-liner before blowing the place to smithereens. Much like Chekhov’s gun, Professor Honeydew’s magnetic bomb-attractor vest aids the Muppets in discovering that Miss Piggy’s engagement ring IS the bomb, and Beaker, who is wearing the vest, is launched out the window, saving The Muppets and all their wedding guests.

Dominic and Constantine try to get away in a helicopter, but Piggy kicks the shit out of Constantine, because again, Piggy’s violence solves every problem in the Muppet universe. With the bad guys captured, the Muppets apologize to Kermit for ignoring his concerns about the tour, and not noticing he was gone. The decide to continue the tour, but first, they will play the Siberian Gulag as a favor to Nadja.

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And the big climax at the end... fireworks. In the shape of the Muppets.

The original songs are excellent again, because Bret McKenzie is excellent. They do have a few non-original songs, but they aid the plot this time instead of just being included for whatever fucking reason (with one notable exception, as there is no excuse for “Moves like Jagger”). The Gulag review auditions used these the best, because seeing a prison full of men sing “End of the Road” is fairly comical, and is only topped by the entire reenactment of A Chorus Line’s “I Hope I Get It”, including a costume change that involves “Gulag” crop-tops.

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The best hybrid of pop references and original jams is “Something So Right”, which actually made me cry, until Celine Dion appeared and hammed it up. Her diva energy in this movie was just perfect - I loved seeing her and Miss Piggy belt out a song while Rowlf was playing a grand piano.

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Speaking of cameos, I feel like they service the movie a lot better than The Muppets. Everyone outside of the celebrity guests on the tour were playing some sort of part, instead of just showing up and answering a phone and talking about how famous they are. Josh Groban sang from inside a metal box several times, and you only see his face for maybe 2 seconds at the end of the movie, which make it clear he just wanted to be involved. Seeing Ray Liotta and Danny Trejo singing and dancing so earnestly made me roll my eyes again at the thought of Sarah Silverman handing Amy Adams a menu and Selena Gomez telling Kermit doesn’t even know who the Muppets are.

The guests on stage were utilized well, with Christoph Waltz dancing the waltz in Berlin, Saoirse Ronan dancing a ballet in Dublin, and Salma Hayek, who is famously Mexican, getting run over by bulls in Madrid. At least the Macarena is from Spain... lord help them.

The Muppet spirit of Muppets Most Wanted is so drastically different than The Muppets to me, and I’m trying to pinpoint why that is. Perhaps it was shifting the focus to the Muppets themselves in the story instead of attention being pulled to Walter and his brother and his brother’s girlfriend’s story arc. Or maybe it was because the plot of this movie was referential to the previous Muppet movies, instead of reusing sections of the plot of the older movies to fill out the runtime. Or maybe it was because this movie was fun, instead of the miserable time everyone in The Muppets was having, crushed under the weight of their potential failure. Or maybe it was because they didn’t end this movie hoisting the Walt Disney puppet over their shoulders while an entire street of people cheer on their new corporate overlord. Whatever it is, this movie is leaps and bounds better than the other.

This concludes Muppet Week! I have consumed more Muppet content in the last few months than I have in my entire life. The Muppets are cherished for a reason, with their ability to ride the line between comedy and emotional sincerity. Their film catalog has increasingly skewed more family-friendly as time has gone on, and they certainly have leaned more toward comedy instead of Gonzo quietly singing about dreams on the side of the road. I haven’t watched either reboot television show yet, and I need a break from Muppet content for a while, so I’ll hold off on my opinions there. But, I love The Muppets, and I hope Disney continues to honor Jim Henson’s legacy with their work.

And with that, I’ll leave you with Kermit and Dolly Parton singing “Everyday People” on The Dolly Show, because I so badly wanted to include this somewhere and didn’t have the opportunity.

#unwarranted opinion #100 best musical movies of all time rotten tomatoes

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returnn-of-the-mac · 6 years ago

Note

The companions (+ Maxson) talk to Sole about an annoying or boring subject and Sole screams Shut Up! 🤐

This one was a lot of fun! Sorry it took so long to complete! If I were a companion in this request, I think I would annoy Sole by fangirling over MCR. Other than that, I’m totally 100% Codsworth (tag yoself when you’re done reading). I also had to change some name brands to made-up pseudonyms to avoid copyright issues. I normally like to write a silent Sole, but this request kinda required a talking Sole. Anyway, please enjoy!😄 (also the movie nickname rq one should be out either tonight or tomorrow!)

FO4 Companions (+Maxson) React: Companions Rambling & Sole Telling Them to Shut Up

Sole’s eye twitched as their companion rambled on for the third day in a row about the same topic. As much as they adored their companion and admired their enthusiasm about the subject, they couldn’t take it anymore. A fed-up Sole stopped dead in their tracks, turned around, and snapped:

Strong:

“Shut up! I‘m done listening to you explain the best way to gut and cook rotting narwhal flesh,” Sole fumed, “I don’t care if you drench it in tato paste or barbecue blood. I’m never going to eat it, Strong. Never!”

Strong frowned, “No be mean human! Or no find milk! Be nice!”

“Strong, I’m sorry. I’m not eating a parasite-infested narwhal corpse.”

“Come on! Rotting horn whale taste like giant fish stick!”

Deacon:

”Shut up! I don’t want to hear about the benefits of changing the HQ password to DEACON IS COOL anymore,” Sole hissed, “Besides, there is a huge hole in your plan. You can’t even spell that with the letters available!”

“Woah there, calm down pal. I didn’t think of that,” Deacon mumbled. He quickly lit up, “But there’s nothing a little permanent marker can’t fix!”

“You think Desdemona isn’t going to notice black marker squiggles all over the door?”

Deacon scoffed, “Um, I’m not stupid. That’s why I’m going to use a brown marker, pal.”

Curie:

“Shut up! I can’t listen to you talk about spinal contusions and brain injuries anymore. It’s making me squeamish.”

Curie immediately stopped talking and her face fell.

“Curie, I’m sorry, I—“

“I’m sorry, [Madame/Monsieur],” the synth began, her eyes welling with tears, “I hope I didn’t upset you. I just find that topic fascinating.”

Gage:

“Shut up! I don’t care about all the pranks you’ve played on Mason. I don’t blame him for being pissed off.”

“Damn. Anyone teach ya manners, boss?” Gage scowled, “Anyway, what? Ya ain’t gonna appreciate the fact that I egged the furry bastard while he was ramblin some mumbo-jumbo-bullshit to his pack of loonies?”

Sole shook their head.

“Or that I lit a bag of Molerat shit on fire right on top of his pompous-ass throne?”

Sole shook their head again.

“Well, boss. You ain’t got no sense of humor, then.”

Piper:

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired about hearing about how Sturges is a synth,” Sole shouted, “I can get behind McDonough being a synth, but there is no way that Sturges is one.”

“But Blue, he has all the signs. He—“

“And so what? What do you want me to do? Even if he hypothetically is a synth, I’m not turning my back on him. I’m still friends with Danse and I’m not dead yet. Curie’s a synth and she’s a sweetheart. X6? Nick?”

Piper‘s face dropped for a moment, before glaring at Sole and turning her back.

Sole sighed, “Piper, I—“

“Don’t talk to me right now.,” The reporter hissed.

Longfellow:

“Shut up! I don’t care about the eight basic knots.”

Longfellow shook his head in disappointment, “I understand you’re sick of this old man bugging you about tying knots, but it is useful information. You never know when you could find yourself in a situation where you need to tie a good ol reef knot, or clove hitch!”

Longfellow pulled a small rope from out of his pocket and Sole sighed.

“Shall we attempt a figure-eight knot today?”

MacCready:

“Shut up! Stop talking about Santa Claus. I know you read about him in an old book we found but—“

MacCready stubbornly crossed his arms, “Oh yeah? I think you’re just being a snob. Some of us haven’t been lucky enough experienced this, [name]. How can you not obsess over a fat guy who spies on people to see if they’re good, breaks into homes, and leaves presents?That’s so cool!” He paused, “I…probably would’ve gotten coal though.”

Sole’s eyebrows furrowed, “Mac—“

“It’s a darn shame he had to die when the bomb dropped. He could’ve brought so much joy to the Commonwealth.”

“—he’s not real.”

MacCready’s jaw dropped, “But the books, the posters, the pictures…there’s so much evidence.”

“Marketing.”

MacCready shook his head in disappointment, “Pre-war Capitalist propaganda…”

Ada:

“Shut up! I already told you I don’t know what a Sara is. How am I supposed to understand what you’re talking about when you tell me you were a Sara prototype?”

“[Sir/Ma’am], like I said before: Sara was a virtual assistant software that was going to be implemented in all future Vault Tec electronic devices. It had a speech recognition engine that could assist users. My biggest flaw was that I could not translate into other languages. I was scraped and remained inactive in a dumpster for years before Jackson reprogrammed me.”

“I still can’t wrap my head around that technological advancement. It doesn’t seem real.”

“Yes, it was highly advanced. That is why it did not make its debut before the bombs dropped.”

Hancock:

“Shut up! I’m done listening to your crazy Daddy-O trip stories. If you hate the chem so much, why don’t you stop taking it?”

Hancock laughed, “Well, [brother/sister], my Daddy-O rides are a lot more fun to talk about than my Jet or Mentat highs,” he thought for a moment, “I mean, besides the time I solved the theory of Quantum Physics on a Mentat high— that was fuckin wild— but other than that it’s more entertaining to talk about the time I shoved an entire summer squash up my ass while on the Big D.”

Cait:

“Shut up! I wish we’d never found that copy of 40 Shades of Silver. Please stop talking about it.”

“Darlin, I never read. But I could not for the life of me put down that book,” Cait sighed, “It was so…wonderfully smutty.”

Sole grimaced.

“That lass really knows how to have a good time. Sounds like a fantasy of mine, gettin hot n dirty n aggressive like that.”

“Stop…”

“Why? Ain’t it a pleasure to talk about?”

Codsworth:

“Shut up! I don’t understand your obsession with Mr. Tidy Magic Erasers. You’ve been talking about them now for. Three. Days.”

Codsworth beamed, “Well, [sir/mum], you know what they say: there’s no tidy like Mr. Tidy!”

Sole rolled their eyes.

“Besides, have you seen how well those suckers eliminate stuck-on grease and grime from dishes,” Codsworth began, “Oh wait, you haven’t. That’s right. You don’t wash your own dishes.”

Preston:

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired of hearing about all the settlements that need our help. Maybe they‘d have a better chance of defending themselves if we didn’t coddle them.”

Preston crossed his arms, “How could you say that, General? I thought you truly embraced the values of the Minutemen.”

“I do Preston, but I think we just need to take a break.”

“Justice never rests. These settlements need us, General. I understand it’s exhausting, but we need to protect these innocent people from the dangers of the Commonwealth.”

Nick:

“Shut up! Please, no more dad jokes. I’m begging you, Nick,” Sole plead, “I’m…I’m annoyed.”

The detective chuckled, “Hi annoyed, I’m Nick Valentine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Stop!”

“I’m not moving!”

Sole grunted in defeat at the detective wore a smug smirk, pleased by the outcome of his jokes.

Maxson:

“Shut up! I’m tired of hearing about the technological prowess of the Prydwen. It’s not that great. It’s just a blimp.”

“Show some respect,” Maxson growled, “And you think the Prydwen is just a blimp? How dare you deride the work of the prestigious mechanics who designed the Prydwen. It is my pride and joy. It is the most advanced vehicle in the Commonwealth.”

“Maybe you should get those prestigious mechanics to work on your Vertibird death traps.”

Maxson frowned, “Vertibird design overhauls are in the agenda. We just have more important projects to tackle before then…such as the redesign of my quarters,” Sole shook their head as Maxson pulled out a color card, “I’m thinking a Deep Ruby Maroon would feel more homey than the current Grumpy Grunt Grey I currently have. But I also like Apple Cider Brown. What do you think?”

Danse:

“Shut up! Can we please just talk about something other than the Fancy Lad Snack cakes?” Sole pled.

“First of all, don’t talk to me like that, soldier. That’s blatant disrespect and I will not tolerate it,” Danse barked.

“Sorry…”

“Second, that Courser friend of yours is out of his damn mind. How can any sane individual honestly believe that strawberry Fancy Lads are superior to vanilla ones?”

“Each to their own?”

“That only pertains to subjective topics. This argument— if we can even call it that— is a solid fact and therefore cannot be disputed.”

X6-88:

“Shut up! What is with synths and Fancy Lad snack cakes? You’ve been raving about them for three days.”

“Hey, now. I suggest you calm down,” X6 warned, “A lot of people— such as your Brotherhood friend— like the vanilla cakes, [sir/ma’am], but the real delicacy are the strawberry cakes with chocolate icing.”

“Does it really matter who likes what flavor?”

“Yes. This is an urgent matter. We should not have to dispute this to be completely honest. It is a fact that strawberry Fancy Lads are superior to vanilla ones.”

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #danse #paladin danse #hancock #deacon #maccready #piper #maxson #elder maxson #porter gage #gage #longfellow #curie #ada #strong #cait #x6 #x6 88 #nick valentine #react

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mystic-sky · 6 years ago

Note

Hello! May I please request a Fem! Reader /Yuliy where the Reader is also a Sirius, having been gone from Dogville when the vampires attacked. Yuliy comes across her one day when he catches her scent, sees she is fighting a vampire, having lost control of the werewolf in her, and when Yuliy confronts her, she actually runs because she doesn't realize he is another Sirius. She thinks he is just a human who happened upon her. Maybe a fluffy ending where Yuliy and Reader meet up and talk? Thxs!

I’m sorry this took a while to get to! I’ve been coming back to it all week.

Disclaimer: our Fem reader’s eyes in this oneshot turn into a blue flame color when she’s in her Sirius form. When she’s in her normal form, they’re your e/c.

Also, I wrote this in third person cause I thought it’d be the best way to portray the two of them at the same time. It gradually turns into your POV as you read. I don’t even know what sense to call that lol

Enjoy!!

“Gahhh!” Y/N groaned in pain. The beast’s bladed fingernails seeped into the palms of her hands, gashing at her skin. She kicked the beast in the stomach, trying to create some space between them. She reached for her weapon that the beast knocked out of her hand and gripped it firmly, wincing in pain.

“I’ve always wanted to taste the blood of a Sirius.” The vampire hissed, licking it’s fingers.

“Delicious.”

Y/N felt a rage boiling within her. The blood of her people, lost to these… these demons. So many lives lost because of their questionable hunger that has to be quenched at the expense of human lives. This very hunger, this very obsession these beasts had with her people left her all alone and she hated it. Her mother, her father, siblings and friends. All gone. And her rage? It was growing more and more each time she encountered a vampire.

“You disgusting, wretched, blood-sucking coward!” She yelled out. Her eyes ignited into blue flames and her hair grew streaks of white. Sharp canines grew from her gums and the girl growled at the demon.

“I’m glad you like it. It’ll be the last thing you taste before you die.” She dashed at the being, impaling the beast with lightning speed. It spat blood onto her hands and feet as she ripped her weapon from it’s flesh.

“You d-dirty Sirius!” The vampire disintegrated into glowing ash and crumpled to the ground. She was still growling, shaking almost. And even though her hands bled, she squeezed them tighter.

During her battle, a young were wolf caught wind of her scent while in town on a mission. He separated from his group of friends without much explanation.

“Yuliy!” Philip called out.

“Just let him go.” Willard sighed, holding the blonde boy’s shoulder.

“I’ll keep on eye on him.” Dorothea says, slowly trailing behind the boy, who was already blocks away.

Yuliy caught a scent so familiar but he couldn’t put a smell to a name. It was someone he’d smelt before, he knew that for sure. It was the scent of their blood, mixed with the scent of something corpse like. He knew it all too well.

“A vampire.” He hissed. He climbed the nearest scaffolding, and hopped along the roofs. The scent got closer, heavier and more prominent. And then he saw it.

The Sirius girl stood there below him, hands soaked in blood, in her most vulnerable form.

A shadow of a person cascaded down upon her, and she looked up at him, blue orbs shining imminently.

Yuliy saw a girl he identified with, or at least someone who looked a lot like him in his Sirius state.

“Who… Who are you?” He barely got out. She didn’t utter a word.

When he jumped down from the roof top to try and close the gap, the girl shifted her feet, fear in her eyes.

She didn’t give him much time to get close, bolting down the alleyway.

“Wait! Come back!” Yuliy began chasing after her. The girl tried to turn several corners but she couldn’t shake the boy. As long as he had her scent, he could follow her as long as he wanted.

“Pesky little human.” She muttered, dashing into the main street towards the train station.

“Could you please wait?! I just wanna talk to you!” He called out to her, but to no avail, the girl kept running. Heck, she got faster and she pulled her hood above her head, fading into the crowd of people.

She pushed past the one of the conductors asking for tickets to board the train, and forced her way onto the cart. The boy followed her, pushing past the same conductor as well.

She shifted through the passengers in the aisle, hopping from cart to cart until finally, she reached the front of the train where all the cargo and coal was stored. She accidentally knocked one of tins of coal over, and it splashed into the flame. Smoke began to crowd the cart and when Yuliy opened the door right behind her, heaps of smoke hit his face. More specifically, his nose.

He smacked a hand over his face and coughed. Her scent, now cloudy to him, made it difficult to keep up with her though the smoke. The girl however was now long gone from the stationary train, which officers had boarded in search of the “two alleged hijackers.”

They grabbed Yuliy by the arm before dragging him off the train.

“You’re coming with us.” One of the officers said.

“You’re gonna be in a lot of trouble, kid.” They said, attempting to handcuff him as soon as they exited the train.

“That won’t be necessary.” Dorothea said, waving her hand. “I’m his guardian.”

“You are?” The officer said, examining the attractive tan skinned woman.

“Yes, I’ll be sure he doesn’t do it again. Please don’t press charges!” She said, taking Yuliy by his shoulders.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” The officer said nervously, slight blush on his face. His eyes trailed to her breasts before speaking again. “Just keep an eye on him. Since he’s still a kid.”

“Thanks.” Dorothea said, trying to put distance between them and the officers.

“Yuliy, care to explain to me why you ran off like that and caused a ruckus in the station?” She asked, rubbing her temples.

“I found a Sirius.” He answered, clenching his fists.

“You what? Are you sure?” Dorothea asked.

“I know scent of a Sirius when I smell one. I saw her.” He said.

“And her eyes… they looked like mine.”

“Where’d she go?” Dorothea asked, scanning the public square.

“That’s the thing. She ran from me.”

“You probably scared her off with that intense look you’ve always got on your face.” Dorothea said, patting him on the shoulder. “You really are bad with girls, aren’t you?”

“You think so?” He asked obliviously, looking at his reflection in a store front window.

“That’s not what I meant.” Dorothea shook her head at the boy.

Y/N, now being out of sight, stopped to rest in an alley way.

“I think I finally lost him.” She panted. “I won’t be someone’s science experiment today.”

Her canines shrunk and her blue eye color faded to her normal e/c ones. Her white streaks of hair faded as well as she slid onto the concrete. “But I have to say…” She breathed. “He’s the fastest human I’ve ever seen.”

***

It had been days since the werewolf boy saw the mysterious girl. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Why did she run from me? He thought constantly as the days passed.

He sat in the car amongst his peers, nipping at his thumb in frustration. Dorothea looked up through the rear view mirror as Philip poked fun at the boy.

“I’ve never seen you so perplexed. Dog got your tongue?”

Yuliy barely exchanged a glance at the blonde, panning his gaze out the window. But Philip knew he struck a nerve.

“I really wish you both would get along.” Fallon sighed, eyes looking into the rear view mirror as well.

“Leave him be, Philip. He’s been through a lot this week.” Dorothea said, crossing her arms.

“What and I haven’t? I’ll have you know that this sprained wrist of mine is no joke.” Philip rolled his eyes.

“And can you roll your window down, it’s hot in here.” Phillip added an inaudible ‘mutt’ to the end of that sentence that Dorothea saw him mouth through the mirror.

“Behave.” She scorned, and the restless blonde rolled his window down.

The werewolf boy rolled his window down as well and leaned against it, looking out the window. As soon as he did, that same unforgettable scent touched his nose, and he perked up almost immediately.

His hunched form sat up abruptly, and looked out the rear window.

“That scent…” He said.

“Yuliy, pull yourself back in the car!” Dorothea warned.

“It’s her.” He said, open the moving car door.

“What the-“ Philip shouted, as the balance of the car shifted when Yuliy barrel-rolled out of the vehicle.

“Yuliy!” Dorothea yelled out, “Jesus Christ, Fallon stop the car!”

The car stopped in the middle of the street, causing traffic and some close road accidents.

Yuliy ran in search of the scent, your scent, that he knew pretty well now even if it was just the second time.

His nose brought him to a bakery, a moderately crowded one that was also a cafe.

There she sat, sweet bun in her mouth and indulging into a newspaper. A familiar scent on her nose as well, she looked up, pastry hanging from her lips.

There stood a pale werewolf boy, shadowing over her frame.

“You’re the girl…” He said, a little too close for comfort.

“Can I help you with something?” You said, removing the bun from your mouth and adjusting your gaze on the being in front of you.

“You’re a Sirius. You’re the Sirius girl I saw from the other night.” He said, leaning on the table, shaking the cup of tea in the process.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You got up, and began to gather your things.

“I know it’s you! You had white hair and the blue flame in your eyes, I saw it…”

“I need you to leave me alone. I’m not the person you’re looking for.” You tucked some hair behind your ear, trying your best to remain calm. How did he find me? I made such a clean getaway, you thought.

You quickly brushed past the youth, taking that familiar scent in. A part of you wanted to look back but you couldn’t jeopardize your safety, not after this long. You wanted to live, and no human would get in the way of that.

But is he even human? He doesn’t smell like one, you think to yourself.

“Wait,” the boy tries to grab your wrist.

“Don’t touch me.” You say harshly, snatching your hand away. This surely earned the attention of some other people in the bakery.

You continue forward, reaching for the door handle.

“I’m from Dog-Ville!” The boy blurted.

“From Dog…ville?” You stopped, feet heavy at the sound of your homeland.

“I’m from Dog-Ville. Well, I was…” The werewolf boy trailed. You turned to look at him.

“And I don’t know if you’re from Mongolia either but… I’ve never seen you before.”

He finally caught your attention, and you walked towards him.

“Sit.” You said, sitting down at the table again. You crossed you legs as the boy sat across from you.

“How did you know I was a Sirius? And what did you chase me for the other night anyway?” You say, searching your bags your sweet bun.

“I can smell you.”

A red flare splashed against your cheeks and you think he realized it before he spoke again.

“No I mean, you have a scent. It’s not bad one, I just smelled someone who smelled like me… a werewolf. I haven’t smelled one since… well I don’t know if you know-

“Everyone died that night.” You say bluntly, setting your bun down on the napkin. “My family did too. So you’re a Sirius, that explains it.” You rubbed at your nose, understanding his scent now too.

“Oh… you are from Dog-Ville. I knew it. Why did you run away when I chased you?”

“You chased me. In the dead of night. And I was scared, I thought you were some mental human scientist. Guess my sense of smell could use some work.”

“Who were your parents? There weren’t a lot of children on the village aside from me and my brother. I’m sure I would’ve recognized you by now.”

“(Blank) and (Blank).” You say simply, “And you don’t know me because I’m not from Dog-Ville. Well, barely in my opinion. My parents traveled a lot and we visited Dog-Ville from time to time to see my late-grandparents. I think I was born there, but my parents were nomads, and so was I.” You bit your lip,

“And the one time we come back to visit happens to be the day I lost everything.”

Your eyes looked into your now cold cup of tea. The werewolf boy’s eyes soften at you.

“We both did.” He says, empathetically. The girl manages to smile at having someone to relate to after all these years. Yuliy takes a good look at her, realizing how pretty she actually was. Her sparkling e/c eyes and her soft lips. Even her h/l h/c hair was something he never thought he’d have a preference in. He didn’t even know he had a preference until he laid eyes on you.

A slight hue sat on his cheeks, and hoped the poor lighting on his side of the room would prevent you from noticing.

“So, how did you make it out exactly?” He managed to say.

“I ran, like I always do.” You say, taking a sip from your cup and immediately placing it back down, grimacing at the taste. “I’m pretty good at it, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Oh yeah… I should apologize for chasing you like that. It probably was pretty scary.” He says nervously, looking down at the sweet bun on the table.

“It’s fine.” You shake your head. “I’ve been running to survive as long as I can remember now. I left the village and wandered across a town until someone took me in. But that’s not important. What about you? How’d you manage to find your way out of all that chaos?”

“My brother sacrificed himself to save me. And then I was taken in by a professor.” Yuliy said, reminiscing about Mikhail.

“He sounds brave.” You say, reaching for your sweet bun.

“He was.” Yuliy said, small smile on his lips. You knew exactly where he was coming from and wished you could make it better for him as well. But you couldn’t, and the both of you had to live with that.

You looked at the extra sweet bun in your bag.

“Here.” You say, opening the wrapping on the bun and handing it to him. “A peace offering. Since you chased me down like a hawk or whatever. I forgive you.” You say, small tint in your cheeks.

“Oh, um… thank you.” Yuliy says, taking the gift from you.

“It tastes better with tea. On me, okay?” You smile, calling the waitress over.

“You don’t have to-“

“I’ll take two peppermint teas, please! And this one is cold.” You say, handing the waitress the cup.

“Coming right up.” The waitress said, shimmying her way back behind the counter.

Yuliy blushed a bit at the girl’s forwardness, but he still enjoyed her company nonetheless.

“So, what do you do?” You ask.

“I’m… I work for the Jaegers. I don’t know if you’ve heard of them or what they do.”

“I know of them. My parents told me about them when I was a little girl. I’ve always thought it was admirable- the work they do, I mean.” You say, fiddling with the bun’s wrapping paper.

“I don’t do it for the admiration.” Yuliy clarified.

“It’s a vengeance thing then?” You ask. The boy nodded before you spoke again.

“I was like that. At least before I decided that I am not my past.” You say, as the waitress approaches you with your tea. You lift your bun to your lips to take a bite.

“Here’s your tea!” She said, setting both cups down on the table. “I’m glad you two made up. Couples come in here and argue all the time. Breaks my heart.”

You nearly choke on the pastry, cheeks reddened to the max.

“We aren’t a couple.” You say, finally gasping for air.

“Oh, sorry for the mix up.” The waitress waves her hand and apologizes.

“The youth are so shy these days.” She says, walking back to her station.

“Sorry about that.” You say, “I didn’t know the staff here were so… well, it doesn’t matter.”

You grip the fabric of your dress, before looking up at the youth. You’re now realizing how attractive he was, but you were sure he didn’t know it. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to pick up on social cues well, or when he was the one making a girl flustered. At least that’s what you got from how unbothered he seemed when that lady said you both looked like a couple.

“It’s alright. It was just a simple misunderstanding.” He said, taking a sip of tea. You watched him tear a small piece of the bun off and pop it into his mouth.

“It’s good.” He says, biting into it whole.

“I-I’m glad you like it.” You look away, nervously playing with a piece of your hair.

The two of you finish your tea and sweets and leave the cafe.

“I guess this is where we part ways.” You say, adjusting your jacket.

“Oh…” Yuliy says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Unless you wanted to be friends.” You work up the courage to say. “That is, only if you want to. I enjoyed your company.”

Yuliy pans down at the shy girls face before speaking.

“Definitely,” He smiles.

#sirius the jaeger #yuliy jirov #yuliy x reader #don't be like me actually get sleep guys #I so wanted this to be fluffier but a bitch is tired #tenrou: sirius the jaeger

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xonismsx · 6 years ago

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hadncchoice replied to your post

Listen I too was obsessed my first blog on tumblr was a Katniss blog and I'm in the [ slow ] process of bringing her back so. Also, this is amazing.

well when or if you do, hmu. i’ve got a hunger games verse for tyrus that’s just waiting to be used. & thanks. tbh i was really proud of them back in the day. if you’re interested here’s the other three “chapters” lol

Chapter 2 - Looking back

I don’t know why I did it, but I suppose in a way, I do. I burnt the bread on purpose, to give her. I feel as if deep down the beating was worth it, even though it stings. I just couldn’t bear to see her like that, starving, so weak she could barely stand, I never knew her, but by god, I never forget her name, Katniss Everdeen. I heard somewhere she was named after a flower, hardly seemed appropriate in the state she was in. As I sit in my room, confined as further punishment, I decide that, in this little way, I made an impact in her life, that she might remember me, similar to the way I remember her, from the first day of school. I wish I could work up the nerve to talk to her, to have a real conversation, not just me throwing some bread at her feet, hoping she’d appreciate it. I think back to recount exactly what happened.

It was raining heavily and I saw her dragging her feet as I got the opportunity to quickly glance out the window. I was glad to be inside by the glow of the fire in which I baked the bread, but I couldn’t help feeling sad she could not be as fortunate. She was soaked to the bone, wearing a jacket much too large, carrying a bundle in her hand. Her eyes were gaunt and she looked frozen, not to mention starving. She quickly disappeared from view and then not a moment later, my mother was screaming at her… fowl words that shouldn’t be spoken to anyone undeserved, but I suppose that in her mind, they were. My mother yelled at her, wanting Katniss to stay out of our trash bins, honestly, I didn’t see the harm in any of it but my mother was in a bit of a rage. I peeked out behind her, hoping to maybe catch the eye of someone I didn’t know, but somehow, in a way, cared about. Katniss went to start moving on again and met my gaze for just over a second, but I hoped that it was long enough for her to see the apologetic look in my eyes. My mother roughly pushed me back inside and I quickly went to tend to the bread in the fire, I don’t know what exactly was going through my mind and I purposefully burned the bread. Already upset, my mother was harsh, not that she wouldn’t have been otherwise. She hit me, right across my face. I already knew it would result in a black eye before it was even over. I quickly grabbed the two burned loafs of bread and hurried out towards the pig trough knowing what my mother would tell me to do before it left her lips. Her words stung nearly as bad as the blow to my cheek.

“Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature. Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!”

I started to tear away the burnt bits and toss them into the trough. Then the front door bakery bell rang, and my mother disappeared to tend to the new customer. I could tell she was watching me, I wanted so bad to turn to her, and just hand her fresh bread but, I had done what I could, I couldn’t help but feel her eyes as they bore into me as she saw my red cheek. I quickly checked the bakery door, as if making sure the coast was clear before lightly tossing her a loaf of bread. The second one went quickly after the first and I rushed back inside. The whole thing happened in a blur, I just hoped that this act would put me on her radar. I don’t know what I really expected. A hello at school? Maybe even a thank you. I didn’t really think it would mean as much to her as it did. From that day on, I just sort of knew, deep down, I had to have her, because even as ugly as she would seem at that moment to others, she remained as graceful as that little girl in the red plaid dress, and she visited my dreams, as she was my escape from reality, as I was the glow of hope she needed in hers.

Chapter 3 – The Bread

She visited me in my dreams so often, it was hard to think of anyone else. I was popular, I was liked, I was single, it wasn’t like I didn’t have any girls chasing after me either though. Apparently, according to my friend who overheard some girls discussing this in town, I was/am the cutest guy in our grade. Since I heard this, I couldn’t help but feel a little awkward when any of the girls came to speak to me, knowing that they liked me but all I could think about was Katniss. As I grew older, I gradually got over this but I was the only guy, who never had a girlfriend, not that there wasn’t anyone trying to change it, I just couldn’t be bothered with any ordinary girl, I wanted her. No matter how much I talked myself up to it, I couldn’t talk to her, I was just too nervous. I never told anyone I had a crush on her either, it just seemed too personal, even though people told me theirs all the time.

Years crept by and like every year, I was nervous about the reaping. I was frantic my first year. Growing up watching the games, I was scared that I would ever have to go there, that I would ever have to kill another human being, the mere thought sent me reeling at first. I couldn’t stand the games but after the reaping went by each year, I got more used to the idea that there IS a chance I could be picked but I simply reassured myself there were plenty of other names in there, and odds are, the one pulled would not be my own. Somewhere at the back of my mind I suppose I hope Katniss wouldn’t be picked either but over the years, I came to terms with the fact she would probably never fall for me what with her being so close to that Gale Hawthorne. It was pretty obvious they cared for each other. I secretly find myself hating Gale, knowing he’s probably going to end up with Katniss, not me. And I find myself facing the same fate as my father, as Gale would end up a coal miner like most men in the seam. I would often catch myself staring at her from across the room, or in the halls, luckily no one ever really noticed. Except one day, the day after I gave her the bread, she saw me, and our eyes met for a brief second. I got so nervous I looked away, I regretted it immediately. I looked back at her a couple moments later to be sure she wasn’t still looking at me and what saw me made my slightly confused. Katniss had picked up a simple dandelion yet it gave her an enormous smile. She then took Prim’s hand and walked away, and once again, I was wishing I had the courage to speak to her. Later that day I realized something, I had hoped to catch her eye, and when I did, I looked away. I realized this was just one more reason she wouldn’t fall for me, I was being a coward, and she was the bravest person I thought I’d like to know, Katniss, the survivor.

Chapter 4 – The odds are never in my favour

Like most other people living in the Seam, Katniss will be signing up for tesserae, I just know it, and even though I somehow know it won’t make any difference, I hope that the odds will be in her favour and she won’t be picked, and this year, knowing that her little sister Primrose, will also be part of the reaping for the first time, I find myself hoping that she won’t be chosen either.

Once again, I stand in that both familiar and alien place among other boys my age, waiting and hoping that no one I know will be called. My anxiety heightens as the mayor comes out and gives his annual speech about the history of Panem and the Hunger Games. I just try and block it out, letting my mind wander back to the bakery where a warm fire and a fresh loaf of bread awaits me. I’m wandering the bakery, preparing cookies, kneading dough, when all of the sudden, I am forced back to reality as I hear the shrill voice of Effie Trinket call out the first name. It’s not mine, not Katniss, not even Gale’s. “Primrose Everdeen” The voice rings out loud and clear. I can faintly hear the crowd whispering unhappily as they do when someone that young is chosen. I can’t see much from where I am, but I gather that Katniss is fighting to get to her as I hear Prim’s name called out, “Prim!” choked at first, then stronger. “Prim!” I make my way to the edge of the crowd just as I hear the words I hoped Katniss wouldn’t say.

“I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!”

I’m so preoccupied hoping that my name won’t be the next called more than ever, that I barely catch what’s being said. Effie Trinket said something about being lovely, and the mayor seems slightly upset but remains stern. Katniss tells them her name and then Effie replies with something about a sister. Next I vaguely remember the old Victor from our district coming onstage, Haymitch Abernathy, he says something about Katniss but I didn’t quite catch what, something spunky if I’m correct. Then they announce the male tribute. Somehow my face remains plain, almost calm if you will, but it takes all my will power to keep it that way when the unspeakable happens.

“Peeta Mellark”

My name rings out and I am frozen to the spot. I will my legs to move and I steadily make my way onto the stage, and wait for what will happen next. The mayor begins to read out the Treaty of Treason as required every year. I’m not really listening and it doesn’t seem like Katniss seems to be paying much attention either. My mind is on other things. Why her? It could have been anyone else but it had to be her, I don’t know why, but I promised myself I would try to keep her safe, even if it meant giving my own life. My family could manage the bakery without me but without Katniss, her family would surely starve. At least this little mission gave me a small sense of purpose, there wasn’t really much else that could at this point I glumly thought to myself as I braced myself for what would be my final, and worst next couple months of my life, that is of course, if I’m lucky enough to last that long.

#hadncchoice #❘❙❚ ┊ replies ➳ ❛ i’m usually witty in these ❜

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itsyourchoicedevotionals · 6 years ago

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Change Stones

“Then the Devil came and said to him, "If you are the Son of God, change these stones into loaves of bread." But Jesus told him, “No! The Scriptures say, ‘People do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Mt 4:4NLT

Did you know, satan is still using the same tactics on everyday people, which he used on Jesus? Lou and I had been living apart all week, together on the weekends for ten plus years. Family life was rough, but we were making it. An opportunity came up for him to take a job around home in a coal mine, through the union. But permits, red tape and merry-go-rounds closed the job three days later. For six weeks, Lou couldn’t work union jobs, and couldn’t work where he was supposed to be employed but wasn’t working. No unemployment available because he wasn’t laid off or fired either. He kept going to work to make a living but couldn’t work there. After fasting and praying, I believed God would get us out of our situation. Lou kept saying, it would be his working, getting us out. He was trying to change stones into bread. God gave me the promise Eph 3:20KJV “Now unto Him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.” Believe God, when He gives you His word. He changed those stones into bread. Within six months, we were almost totally out of debt. Not just eating and surviving— but thriving.

Five to six days a week, people go to work to earn a living. They try to cover the basic needs, and the multitude of wants. Jesus spoke to us about the multitude of worries we have trying to get those wants— telling us God takes better care of flowers, than we can take care of ourselves. “…why worry about your clothes? Look at the lilies …how they grow. They don't work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are” Mt 6:28-29NLT. When we worry about being able to care for ourselves, we’re still trying to change stones into bread.

Jesus said: “Why be like the pagans who are so deeply concerned about these things? Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs, and He will give you all you need from day to day if you live for Him and make the Kingdom of God your primary concern” Mt 6:32-33NLT. My question— Are we pagans?

What’s primary to our life? If we were in a third world country or homeless, primary would be clean water to drink, food, and shelter. The commercials for the car, house, clothes, jewelry are— “…all that the world can offer us—the gratification of our flesh, the allurement of the things of the world, and the obsession with status and importance—none of these things come from the Father but from the world” 1Jn 2:16TPT.

Primary for God’s children is seeking and doing His will. Are we doing His will or worrying. I know three people who work for Jesus. One does walks in areas designated on maps by Jesus, praying for His will there. He supplies everything she needs from strangers and acquaintances alike, although she’s not an official ministry or missionary. A couple, (now has children,) go door to door and along streets across the USA to find and lead the lost to Jesus. They’re funded in miraculous ways, as God changes stones into their bread. Are we living by “every word that comes from the mouth of God?” Do we still try to change stones ourselves for our will? It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Papa God, I want life to be about You, not me. Help me, help us to allow You to change those stones for us, in Jesus’s name I pray.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #stones #change #importance #promises #primary #love #hope #faith #worry #needs

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goforwardgreenwriter-blog · 7 years ago

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The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 3 - 4

Last time we learned that SJM has an unhealthy fascination with describing the breasts of her female characters. I wonder what else this book will throw at us.....

Manon Blackbeak stood at attention by one end of the long, dark bridge into Morath and watched her grandmother’s coven descend from the gray clouds.

MANON MY QUEEN!!! I’ve seen so many antis praise Manon and I totally agree, she’s a refreshing and just plain bad ass character in a cast of stale personality lacking cardboard cut outs.

[Manon’s] grandmother had come to Morath. Or what was left of it, when one-third was nothing more than rubble.

Oh yeah, that happened. Uhh evil stuff and villain plotting was happening at Morath until a minor character from T0G blew it up or something? Can’t remember but it probably won’t be that important after this chapter because SJM has smut to get to, ain’t no room for plot on this boat!

So Manon takes her grandmother to see the duke and we get this fragment.

At the Matron’s accusation—and the line her Thirteen were drawing. Had drawn for some time now.

I don’t know why SJM does this constantly. I suppose to put emphasize on what is being said, but when you do that every other paragraph, it loses its effect. Just have the first sentence there and boom, there you go.

Manon assessed the exits, the windows, the weapons she would use when they fought their way out. Instinct had her stepping in front of her grandmother; training had her palming two knives before the golden-eyed man could blink.

Hell yeahhhhh Manon is so awesome. See. this is what Aelin should have been! Bad ass, but not strutting around flaunting it 24/7.

The duke has changed forms and reveals his true name, Erawan, and Vernon is there too. So is Maeve the main villain or these two guys?

And with the fiery queen now gone, Dorian Havilliard and his city were defenseless. It mattered little to [Manon]. It was war.

Riiight, because nobody can possibly get anything done without the amazing Aelin there to defend them... I’m not saying a bunch of magic-less humans could stand a chance against the witches, but do you have to make it all about how powerful Aelin is?

Perrington—Erawan—shrugged his broad shoulders.

Even the villains aren’t safe from SJM’s obsession with broad shoulders.

“Damage the city enough to instill fear, show our power. But that wall … Bring it down.” [Manon] only said, “Why?” [Vernon’s] golden eyes simmered like hot coals. “Because destroying a symbol can break the spirits of men as much as bloodshed.”

Not gonna lie, that’s pretty bad ass in a twisted, villain way. Not only does he want to destroy the city and no doubt kill countless people, but he’s gonna destroy a symbol of their city to break their spirits? That’s a good threat for a villain to make.

Manon leaves the meeting and tells her witches to suit up for battle.

She found the mute blacksmith by his usual forge, sweat streaming down his soot-stained brow. But his eyes were solid, calm, as he pulled back the canvas tarp on his worktable to reveal her armor. Polished, ready.

(...)

It fitted easily, its interior cool against her hot skin. Even with the shadows that hid most of her face, she could see the blacksmith with perfect clarity as his chin dipped in approval. She had no idea why she bothered, but Manon found herself saying, “Thank you.”

The sweet, sweet taste of character development that sadly, if you haven’t read the books might not make sense out of context.

Onto chapter 4!

Aedion and Rowan did not let Darrow’s messenger go ahead to warn the lords of their arrival. If this was some maneuver to get them on uneven footing, despite all that Murtaugh and Ren had done for them this spring, then they’d gain the advantage whatever way they could.

You just said yourself that Murtaugh and Ren owe you a debt and want to be your allies. You can trust them, I’m pretty sure they aren’t planning anything against you.

Aelin and her court go to a tavern, and I gotta admit, I’m pretty hyped. I know tavern scenes are a cliche in fantasy but honestly, I love them! I love the atmosphere, the blend of comedy and drama, whispering secrets over the table and noticing suspicious figures across the room. Or maybe I just played too much D&D.

Inside the inn, there were no rooms to be found for rent, and the taproom itself was crammed full of travelers, hunters, and whoever else was escaping, the downpour. Some even sat against the walls—and Aelin supposed that it was how she and her friends might very well spend their evening once this meeting concluded. A few heads twisted their way as they entered, but dripping hoods and cloaks concealed their faces and weapons, and those heads quickly returned to their drinks or cards or drunken songs.

See, this is imagery I love!

Lysandra had finally shifted back into her human form—and true to her oath months ago, her once-full breasts were now smaller.

Aaand SJM ruined it. Though I guess the focus of breasts has a point here...? I don’t know why Lysandra vowed to have smaller breasts next time she transformed back to human form but whatever.

Fleetfoot brushed against her calf, tail wagging, and Aelin smiled down at the hound, who shook herself again, flinging droplets of water. Lysandra snorted. Bringing a wet dog into a covert meeting—very queenly.

At least SJM is honest about Aelin not giving a fuck about appearing like a proper queen.

Aelin squared her shoulders as Aedion stepped into the room, already speaking to those inside: “Just like you bastards to make us trudge through the rain because you don’t want to get wet. Ren, looking put-out, as usual. Murtaugh, always a pleasure. Darrow—your hair looks as bad as mine.”

Jesus does it run in the family? Aedion this kind of banter is not proper in a meeting that’ll determine the future of your kingdom and your lives!

Aelin didn’t know how she hadn’t recognized Murtaugh that night she’d gone to the warehouse to end so many of them. Especially when he’d been the one who halted her slaughtering. The other old man, though … while wrinkled, his face was strong—hard. Without amusement or joy or warmth. A man used to getting his way, to being obeyed without question. His body was thin and wiry, but his spine was still straight. Not a warrior of the sword, but of the mind.

Ohhh please don’t tell me Darrow is gonna be a villain please please please

“Lord Darrow,” she said, inclining her head. She couldn’t help the crooked grin. “You look toasty.” Darrow’s plain face remained unmoved. Unimpressed. Well, then.

Yeah it’s almost like this is an important political meeting and there’s no place for shitty one liners in them....hm...

Humility—gratitude. She should try; she could try, damn it. Darrow had sacrificed for her kingdom; he had men and money to offer in the upcoming battle with Erawan. She had called this meeting; she had asked these lords to meet them. Who cared if it was in another location? They were all here. It was enough.

Aelin becoming self aware once again of her frankly shitty attitude. Will she keep it up and try to improve though?

Aelin began counting to ten at the tone. But it was Aedion who said as he claimed a seat, “Careful, Darrow.” Darrow interlaced his gnarled but manicured fingers and set them on the table. “Or what? Shall you burn me to ash, Princess? Melt my bones?”

DARROW CALLING AELIN OUT ON HER SHIT TEMPER! I love Darrow he is my new favorite.

“And what bloodline,” Darrow asked, his mouth tightening at the brand across Lysandra’s tattoo, the mark visible no matter what form she took, “does Lady Lysandra hail from?” “We didn’t arrange this meeting to discuss bloodlines and heritage,” Aelin countered evenly.

I get that you don’t want Darrow being an asshole over Lysandra’s past, but..... you kinda did arrange this meeting for that reason, though? Aelin’s heritage is going to be examined in this meeting so....

Aelin cocked her head, choosing each word, forcing herself to think it through for once. “Is there a skill set that you would prefer I possess?” Darrow smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Some control would do Your Highness well.”

Darrow, it’s illegal to roast someone this badly.

Darrow reveals that in order for a ruler to claim the throne of Terrasen, they must be approved by the ruling families of each territory, meaning that Aelin can’t just strut in and demand the throne. Big fuckin’ shock, Aelin, this is how shit is done!

Darrow didn’t so much as flinch. “You can hardly expect us to allow a nineteen-year-old assassin to parade into our kingdom and start yapping orders, regardless of her bloodline.”

DARROW IS THE BEST CHARACTER IN T0G 2K18 FIGHT ME ON THIS YOU WON’T WIN

Admittedly, Darrow does refer to Lysandra as a whore, which isn’t cool, but damn other than that he is spot on! Maybe SJM won’t force him to be a villain and let him be an obstacle and challenge that forces Aelin to stop her shitty temperamental ways!

But Rowan leaned back in his chair with a faint smile—and it was a horrifying, terrible thing. “I have known many princesses with kingdoms to inherit, Lord Darrow, and I can tell you that absolutely none of them were ever stupid enough to allow a male to manipulate them that way, least of all my queen. But if I were going to scheme my way onto a throne, I’d pick a far more peaceful and prosperous kingdom.” He shrugged. “But I do not think my brother and sister in this room would allow me to live for very long if they suspected I meant their queen ill—or their kingdom.”

Trying not to let myself have feels over him calling Aedion and Lysandra his brother/sister..... I love the “misfits become family” trope, what can I say.

But Darrow went on before Aelin could speak or incinerate the room. “Perhaps, Aedion, if you hope to still gain an official position in Terrasen, you could see if your kin in Wendlyn have reconsidered the betrothal proposition of so many years ago. See if they’ll recognize you as family. What a difference it might have made, if you and our beloved Princess Aelin had been betrothed—if Wendlyn had not rejected the offer to formally unite our kingdoms, likely at Maeve’s behest.” A smile in Rowan’s direction.

SJM, are you... are you suggesting incest? Look, I know shit like this happened in real medieval times, but this is a fantasy series, you don’t have to keep gross shit like that if you’re not gonna go all the way and properly explain and address it.

Darrow says one mean comment about Aedion and Aelin neARLY STABS HIM WITH A DAGGER I’M NOT EVEN JOKING.

Aelin lunged. Not with flame, but steel. The dagger shuddering between Darrow’s fingers flickered with the light of the crackling hearth.

Real professional behavior there, Aelin! Is this how you plain to rule your kingdom, just threaten and kill anyone you disagree with?

“I see you inherited your father’s temper,” Darrow sneered. “Is this how you plan to rule? When you don’t like someone, you’ll threaten them?”

Same hat Darrow! Same hat!

Darrow lifted his brows. “All the work I have done, all that I have sacrificed these past ten years, has been in Orlon’s name, to honor him and to save his kingdom—my kingdom. I do not plan to let a spoiled, arrogant child destroy that with her temper tantrums. Did you enjoy the riches of Rifthold these years, Princess? Was it very easy to forget us in the North when you were buying clothes and serving the monster who butchered your family and friends?”

I know I’m sounding like a broken record here but holy shit, THANK YOU DARROW. Darrow is such an amazing character and a breath of fresh air from everyone kissing Aelin’s ass.

Beneath the table, Rowan’s hand shot out to grip [Aelin’s] own, his fingers coated in ice that soothed the fire starting to flicker at her nails. Not in warning or reprimand—just to tell her that he, too, was struggling with the effort to keep from using the pewter food platter to smash in Darrow’s face.

Wow you two are gonna be great rulers. They’re both temperamental and violent as hell and will probably bring their kingdom to its knees because someone stared at them wrong.

“Should you return to Orynth and seize your throne without our invitation, it will be considered an act of war and treason.” Darrow pulled a piece of paper from his jacket—lots of fancy writing and four different signatures on the bottom. “As of this moment, until it is otherwise decided, you shall remain a princess by blood— but not queen.”

HELL YEAH DARROW!!! Aelin hasn’t proved herself worthy of being queen yet, least of all with threatening someone she’s supposed to be making an ally with. Maybe SJM has turned a new leaf and this entire book will be about Aelin having to actually sit down, shut up, and learn to be humble and how to be a good ruler. One can dream...

#anti sjm #the worm reads: eos #the worm talks #anti eos #anti tog

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deepintoforestwego · 7 years ago

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Oblivion at bay

The Prince has worse day.

To explain, to those unaware- Lost Prince can only have worse days, because every day is bad day for him. Never does smile cross his features, never does laugh find it’s way from his throat, never does ache leave his bones, never does he find motivation to do anything but languish. Sometimes he spends centuries sitting in one spot, frozen silent, frown marring his face, and not a sound comes from him, not a twitch of muscle. Nothing can move him- world could burn, planes could break, and Prince would sit there, apathetic and uncaring.

So he can only get worse. There are days, ages he spends cupping his face and sobbing (none know for what, and perhaps neither does he), curling in ball and screaming, fainting from exhaustion and tearing his immortal flesh in panic (there is no blood, just darkness and dust beneath ever healing skin). His followers know this quickly- when pale, faded world around them goes gray, when kingdom that is always faraway no matter where you are going from becomes utterly hidden, when sky rains leaden tears, when broken tower starts falling apart even more, when abandoned corpse of city around it rots into dust, when shadows wail, and each inhabitant feels a gap inside themselves, something no food or treasure or person can feel, when ravens mourn and black earth bleeds.

(A note, to remember about lands of Faerie, which you may call First World, Feywild, Elphame or however you prefer- you can judge mood and fate of ldest lords by their domains. Some will tell you that power of archfey is so great that it forces capricious realms to bend to them and their feelings and wishes, others will claim that minds and lives of shapers are intervened with their kingdoms. Third will yet say that Lords and Ladies are but avatars through which land speaks, while fourth yet claim that holdings of Feywild’s almost-but-not-quite gods are just pieces of them thrown up outside. Perhaps none are right, or maybe they all are at same time, or it depends on Lord in question. It doesn’t explain quite bit about mercurial and whimsical nature of their servants-it isn’t easy being dryad in world where sunlight and seasons depend on your ruler’s relationship stability, which is also why all of them meddle in their monarch’s personal lives far too much to be safe or sane).

As first strangled whine left his mouth, so did each thing, a fey and mortal and demigod and beast (no plants, not anymore, not safe enough) cry out in horror and warning, and rush towards throne room- which is never in same place, and in these situations tends to hide away, to shield away Melancholy Lord from prying of others, and from it’s deep seated fear of him maybe ever getting better- after all, it is house built on mourning, and abandonment, and fact there is only one being that sees value in it’s shattered walls and broken roofs. Recovery would take it away.

Still, those fresh and mortal to this land of loss and pity still hope and pray to deities so far away, that they will soon fully leave, that land is not part of Prince, and that it can be convinced to reveal him, for neither does it want him to suffer and harm himself, or if tower is a part of him that there is piece of Prince that wants to be helped, so they run and hope.

Girl who arrives, without realizing at first, is mostly human, with bit of touch of Outsiders- grandmother of her grandparent’s grandfather was a banshee, who grew too close to her clan ( it could make him some sort of divine Father, she thinks, for they say banshees were screamed in existence when Lost Prince realized his mortal followers died, bound to watch and mourn their descendants). Her head is bald, her eyes gold and silver, her clothes wildly colourful, as if she was wearing carnival tent, and there are vials of poison around her belt, and deaths on her blade, innocent and guilty both.

,, My Lord. How can I help?’’ She asks, kneeling low before man who would look almost pretty and wholly gaunt and mostly human if not for red markings ghastly burning on his skin, like coal slowly dying (they like to believe those are symbols, that there is meager joy left in him that they can light up again) and empty eyes, holes filled with void that predated cosmos.

‘‘Get lost!’‘ He snips at her, words as bitter and painful as taste of nightshade, a barbed wire, or thorns sinking in veins. there is force in them, though they are quiet and cold, that makes skin ripple and wind whip at her face. She doesn’t care- Lost Prince never has kind word for anybody, but what it matters when he feeds you, helps you bury your sisters, finds you home, saves you from prison, all in different unremarkable guises until you put together pieces and find way into Feywild and beg yourself in his service.

‘‘ My Lord, what do you need?’‘ She asks again, watching man in front of her, whose age she can’t really guess, somewhere between sixteen and fifty ( in appearance at least), who is breathing harshly, muddy tears running down his cheeks and burning and melting stone below, barely hanging on his throne, hair messy and hands around knees. It is worthless question, but still she asks- they tried everything, brought therapists from every plane and time, but nothing could help this sorrow that existed for itself, that had no name and no history. Still, they have to hope.

‘‘To leave me.’‘ He almost spits, after what might have been minutes or hours.He doesn’t know he doesn’t see, he cries and is lost in fading memories, but he can’t remember name, anything before this tiredness and pain, nothing else.

‘‘‘...I see. If you need us...’‘ he is rude, and cold Lord, but each member of his court has been saved in secrecy, and never has he tried to claim credit for that. Who knows how more he has actually saved, who never realized that. There is no creature here that wouldn’t die for him, whether in battle or by hanging themselves after his despair seeps in them too.

‘‘I won’t. Now please leave me alone.’‘ He begged them, commanded them, go, leave, leave me and this awful cursed place alone, but they wouldn’t, they insist on thanking him, on serving him, as if he wanted that, as if he would have hid his identity if he wanted to call in life debt (how many has he amassed, and let slip through his fingers as ones he saved lived good and happy lives, unlike his peers, who would have bound them unto eternal service).

,,And...sorry.’’ he whispers as doors close, and word spreads through his domain, and girl gets idea.

‘‘You are not one of mine. Not yet. Why are you here?’‘ The Green Mother asks, her bark skin perfectly chiseled, her dress of thorny vines creeping and moving, flowers growing and withering on it. She is beautiful, in way old tree near her former home was, in way flowers bursting through pavement are. Not a grandiose, elevated beauty that is glorious and frightening and overloads senses, but patchwork of ordinary and pretty thing cobbled together in something alluring and subtle. But she is a wooden statue, green thorns growing from her, with hands strong enough to crush skulls, and magic even greater.

‘‘Your Majesty, I am here to bring you information.’‘ The Feasting Flower is one of queens of Faerie. Not like Tiandra, painted by greatest artists with summer’s sun in her palm and costly spear tinged with blood of thousands, or Queen of Air and Darkness, whispered about by frightened mothers and weary travelers, winds searing through night at her command, thousands murdered by winter’s bite at her glance. She is thing of fields and deep woods, sang in ballads of peasants and bored, thief of babies and owner of hundred mortal lovers, not goddess bestowing favor upon virtuous knights and forcing Feywild to bend beneath her scorching fist, not plotter of frozen heart that topples empires, unleashing armies of dark upon world. And not any lesser and safer for that. Just smaller and more common interest. Which may in fact be more awful.

‘‘Are you? Then go on. I hope it is worth my time-you may be rewarded for that.’‘ Or punished otherwise. They call her in mortal world many things, sometimes slut and succubus’s sister and temptress. But carnal acts of lust and seduction are just an aspect of hers. She is intrigues woven in caves beneath earth, growth and decay of plantlife, the charming appeal of evil. Even her seduction is more of that of venus flytrap. She is hungry for secrets as she is for flesh and hearts, in literal and metaphorical meaning equally. Her tight smile is that of mafia boss, of information broker, and she is covered in green and red, like emeralds and blood.

‘‘My Lord-The Lost Prince- is feeling worse then usual. Me and several others have thought that maybe..’‘‘ The thorns writhe and dance, and trees burst in fruits and sap flows freely as girl suffocates from pollen, and Green Mother smiles wide and bloody. The Eldest of fey have lived for long time, and been many things to each other. The Green Mother has bedded each of them, and found sour and sorrowful Lost Prince worst and hardest-for hardly it could be called sex, as she laid over his bare and unmoving body, and he stared in emptiness. Seductress she is, and creature of pride, and she vowed she will show him pleasure that will snap him out of his melancholy. A obsession and hunger that slowly twisted in need to have him adore her, to possess him by whatever means possible.

‘‘Oh? Really? Lovely, perfect in fact. Well then, that is useful information. I would be glad to help- as for you, no poison of your planet’s herb will work on you, nor shall thorns cut your skin, and neither will treants or similar raise a branch against you, and dryads will know you as friend.’‘ The girl’s eyes are wide, but she nods and quickly mutters something in gratitude (not thank you, never that, she isn’t stupid) before running away, moving through still trees, which aren’t taller then mountains or full of diamond flowers and impossible fruits, but are still thick and would tear her apart in heartbeat if their capricious mistress demanded so.

It is truth of life that it always adapts. Lost Prince’s sorrow wrecks the tower, and they learn to live around it. Some leave, some die, some remain, more come, for still Prince helps as he cries. It is one day that they feel arrival, something old and powerful and wild tearing through magics hiding their joyless kingdom from all others, forcing Feywild to reveal demiplane of Crumbling Tower to it.

The doors of tower-one of them- are old wood, rotten and broken, and realm they were grown at is not there anymore. Parts of it turn to dust, others to black mush, held together by rusting metal, but they burst open, wood stretching and shifting, growing younger and greater, rejecting it’s chains, warping until it is young and healthy and alive, with heavy crowns and roots tearing apart stone.

‘‘AND MAMA HAS ARRIVED!’‘ Voice shouts so strong every creature, from giants to microbes knows it. Green Mother stands at entrance, waving, fueled with strength of joy that still can’t make her smile seem warm or her eyes soft, each movement obvious and overly dramatic. She struts along, roots and thorns growing in her steps, cloud of pollen spreading and making everybody cry and choke and flail until they are red in face, and withering once she passes away, not decaying as plants do, turning orange and brown then drying out, but crumbling in dust in seconds, for Green Mother is creature of desire and energy, sensuality and growth, and neither can be found here.

‘‘Hello. What do you need?’‘ Lost Prince asks once it becomes clear she won’t leave, when flowers bloom from his throne. He doesn’t call her by her name, or title, but in language of archfey elder then sylvan, a set of images and impressions describing her.

A dank cave, filled with dirt and clay and dust, stench of decay of decomposing plants, ready to give birth to new life, spiders crawling across walls.

A flower rises from earth. Brilliant and soft red-green, petals wide and spotted, full of pollen. Bees and butterflies come to it, and when they fly down they can’t leave, and it swallows them whole, as it does same to humans and fiends and fey.

There is man, and he is beautiful and wealthy and liar and has voice like honey, and he plans and plots and weaves his webs, and baits unhappy wives and daughters and sisters to his bed, because he has wild urges he will never let go unsatisfied, and he makes them pawns, and he becomes king and there is sea of blood and tears and so many lost, so many unmarked graves, oh the orphans...

‘‘Me? Whatever is needed at the moment. Now, only your smile and affection, my dear.’‘ She moves slowly, but swags and shakes her body (and who knows how it may seem to him, and he to her- for archfey know the truth of each other’s forms, even as they shift themselves in strangest ways. He thinks it reasonable to her to model herself after elves and dryads, for she is closest to them and has had hand in their history many times, and she finds it quaint and sweet how he makes himself in human, for they live so short and but a few will be known and remembered). And him too she calls by his nature.

A historian, old and grey, stands alone in library combs their way through artifacts found beneath ruins of civilization whose name nobody knows, and they takes books of their predecessors and colleagues and pick information from them, and travel through past, recalling what they know and have learnt about symbols found inscribed at walls.

They called children insane, called them abnormal and weird and unnatural, because their brain was missing few steps and didn’t work the same and it was easier to scream then to figure out way to accommodate, and so they made them mad, screaming and broken and crying and never speaking, when all they needed was rest, to calm down and clear mind and filter out so many emotions.

There is a queen, and she keeps her tears inside even as her grief crushes her, for she thought her beautiful husband loved her, but he is cruel king and liar, but she must make her family, her line, all who came before her proud, so she swallows down her pain and lets herself become symbol of loss and pain and strength, lets people put her on pedestal as he screams and hits and cuts her, only as long as she can keep pieces of his rage away from people...

‘‘You won’t find it then. You have wasted your time.’‘ He still breathes unevenly, and cries, and his episode weight heavily on all, even on her, who would have almost shuddered from pain and loss and something like shadow of regret if her power wasn’t as great, if her hunger wasn’t as deep, and if she didn’t remember time before this, when he could be happy. It is thankful that archfey can speak to each other by mind and meaning, for he wouldn’t be able to get a word out as much as he cries.

‘‘Are you sure? I’m good at digging out things people don’t even know they had.’‘ She shakes her body and puts her hands around his neck. Subtlety is lost on one such as him, and if she had human ideals she would have been ashamed of acting like some unskilled, fresh strumpet, but she is hungry thing and means never matter. She looks at him, and wonders whether he has sexual or romantic desires at all, which would mean she would have to make herself his best friend or surrogate sister or something. It is hard to figure him out, when he has desire for nothing, only some strange duty to help the helpless and remember forgotten. It is awful and makes her leaves turn brown at thought of help without debt, without betrayal and regret, but that is why it is so alluring-perhaps he could teach her something too.

‘‘Like this! A great kingdom, known all over it’s realm-now nothing but dust, because it’s emperor became lich, called upon Old Ones and tried to ascend to godhood. You know, classic. But I preserved it’s capitol. Only for you.’‘ She hands him a glass globe, and inside is truly beautiful capitol, and he holds it and watches ruined buildings, watches bodies covering them, hands of dead clutching each other.

‘‘ I see... I think I heard of this. Some centuries ago-yet already ti is gone from memory. had some very unusual trees.’‘ She smiles wider, grasping for compliment, feeling proud of herself, as he stares on thorns and brilliant red flowers covering city, as he stares on all dead families and destroyed buildings.

‘‘I will gift you for this. Now leave my domain.’‘ he stops crying, and she counts it as win, as he stares at globe, hands shaking. With a mimicked kiss she leaves, planning how to continue this ‘‘romance.’‘

‘‘My Lord?’‘ An old woman comes, dressed in colourful clothes, eyes silver and gold. Prince says nothing, just goes over and hugs her, tight and strong, face frowning and eyes narrowed, hands cold, but he isn’t crying as he puts his head over hers, as he gives her globe and says look.

She doesn’t regret it.

#d&d #pathfinder #crossover #fantasy fic #faeries #for my friend owldork1998 #a pathfidner eldest s adapted in dnd archfey

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flame-cat · 7 years ago

Text

YDYD episode one

below the cut are all events of importance that transpired, preserved so that others may learn from the fallen gods’ mistakes

DAY 1 michael immediately falls out of a tree while everyone is gathering wood and apples and such ryan is the first to craft tools geoff builds a lean-to in the side of a mountain after an argument about what a lean-to even is ryan finds a hole michael nearly gets blown up by a creeper, but is in the water so he doesnt die ryan has a successful run-in with a creeper in the hole trevor begins building a farm in the pond next to the lean-to. jack argues with him about how to build it gavin: "who do you think will die first?" michael: "alfredo." everyone agrees aside from geoff, who says lindays gonna die first. she doesnt disagree. michael isnt sure jeremy builds beds for everyone in the lean-to, with alfredo's help in collecting the wool (he did NOT help much) trevor: "hey. alfredo. hey." alfredo: "yeah?" trevor: "waddaya say we just.... get outta here?" "lets both... start our own lean-to, yknow what im sayin?" "here we go. while theyre not lookin, lets book." michael: "while theyre not looking- i dunno what the FUCK alfredos talkin about." everyone is perfectly aware of this development and dont try to stop them at all the twins find sheep. trevor is very excited about this lindsay: "what the fuck you two twins doin over here? stop touchin each other." geoff accidentally destroys the "sap of life" night comes. jack calls everyone back to the hovel. ryan is impressed with said hovel despite earlier shenanigans, the twins come back to go to bed ryan is still in his hole, alone, not knowing where the hovel is, because hes obsessed with cooking his irons i guess. too many irons in the fire geoff suggests a dead pool. everyone emphatically condones this ryan, ALMOST back: "oh god, i hear them." everyone makes it to bed jack congratulates everyone on surviving the first night. DAY 2 alfredo steals jeremys crafting table ryan nearly falls in a deadly hole in a desert michael, next to two block deep water: "careful, gavin. you could drown" geoff is about to follow ryan into a new hole ryan has a dangerous run-in with a skeleton, taken down to three hearts. he abandons the hole jack changes his vote from alfredo to ryan. lindsay approves of ryans running away tactics everyone basically just beats up animals and collects shit. sex jokes are made jack: "who put a tree on top of the house?" lindsay: "me. hi. dont touch my tree." michael wants "sap of life" gavin wants "tree of hope" lindsay just wants her husbands to stop fighting trevor changes his bed covers from white to black, because hes an edgy high schooler i guess ryan and geoff are lost jeremy finds a village. michael says to kill the inhabitants and take their shit geoff finds trevor alfredo spends some time being hopelessly incompetent jack is also mining and wants coal alfredo is proud of his shovel trevor threatens gavin with a beating because gavin doesnt like his one-on-one thing gavin apologises after being a cheeky fuck about it ryan returns with an iron chestplate. gavin is upset that he did that before making everyone iron swords. ryan says he needed the armor to get more iron trevor tries to goad alfredo into jumping into a river from the top of a cliff. they dont do it lindsay calls in the stragglers alfredo falls in a hole in the dark, takes out half his health. he is very scared and freaks everyone out. he gets back fine the tree of hope is grown apparently alfredo also got shot in the back. jeremy michael and ryan herd him back inside for the night. poor boy gavin is about to be locked out by jack, who notices hes being chased by a zombie. hes putting torches in the area around the hovel. ryan watches and makes sure he gets in ok and they cant sleep because gavin brought the zombie to them everyone gets up to help, jack advises them to stay put. ryan deals with it since hes the most equipped. he takes minimal damage the gang finally sleeps michael: "ok, nobody do any funny business in the middle of the night." "where are my pants?" DAY 3 ryan: "theres creepers everywhere." jeremy: "theres two thatre-" *hissssss* "piSSED AT-" *boom!* "Me.... theyre gone." michael takes 2.5 hearts of damage from a creeper from behind jack takes .5 damage dealing with the creepers. its the first time hes been damaged so far gavin is writing a diary on the wall with signs. "dear diary- im not sure about this new world. i dont think ive made many friends yet. maybe tomorrow someone will be f-" alfredo sees the publicly displayed diary and reads it aloud, to gavins embarrassment after some apologies and laughter, gavin gets to finish in private- "THEY FOUND MY DIARY! SCATTER!" lindsay is alerted to the status of the tree of hope. "get the fUCK OUTTA MY WAy i wanna go see my kid" jeremys a fyeshin boi trevor rennovates the house. it has wood instead of dirt michael complains no one is dead yet. jack feels like he should give them more credit alfredo: "i made a STONE pickaxe!" jack: "ok, point taken michael" trevor plants some flowers outside gavin: "alfredo, why you starin at me? you wanna go down?" alfredo: "no, just wonderin what a creeper was doin in here" thems fightin words. everyone oooohs when aflredo says he feels like he could take him may 25th is the "i quit" fight i guess ryan: "ok, everyone quiet for a second." ....... "...i think i hear water near me and i wanna know where it is." gavin does some dangerous shit near a hole, a creeper blows up. after a life check, a vern comes out and takes out half of his health jack: "oh, gavin, dont be the first to die" trevor finds this hilarious before he tramples his lilacs geoff gets it mining is now the thing to be doing geoff brings a witch out of the danger cave and tries to get alfredo to kill her alfredo accidentally hits trevor when trying to mine its the first night they spend out gavin is excited about cave squid and gets hit by a creeper from behind. jeremy helps take it out a skeleton takes out a good chunk of michaels health. hes not nearly as concerned as he should be lindsay gets killed by a zombie while shes in her inventory. shes not even in a cave. geoff gets the zombie too late DEATHS- 1. FIRST BLOOD- LINDSAY michael volunteers to make her grave stone trevor and geoff are home damage control, basically just keeping alfredo safe trevor makes alfredo a sword alfredo kills his first zombie a skeleton starts to pick the home crew off so they retreat inside michael nearly dies to a skeleton in a cave near lava a skeleton starts to fuck up the home crew. alfredo has one heart when they kill it jack finds an enderman near a skeleton. half health michael is stuck at half health because hes hungry. so is jack alfredo continues to be incompetent geoff nearly gets stuck outside with zombies jeremy and gavin tag team some mobs and its pretty great the sun rises over nine made eight. DAY 4 michael and jack come home to heal up and pull the arrows out of their poor bodies jack says michael can use his iron sword better than he can and gives it to him "live together die alone" trevor gets a jack o lantern to light the way home ryan tries to argue for lindsays value. michael says shed have died anyway. alfredo thinks it was a murder jack and the twins build a farm geoff makes the hovel bigger at the behest of jack michael gets domestic on alfredos ass jack thinks alfredo will die next. michael says both the twins. ryan thinks it will be him michael builds a perimeter of cactus and accidentally hits trevor hovel is now happy house ryan finds gold geoff puts down red carpet night two out! jeremy and ryan live underground at this point jeremy finds a skeleton with chain mail and a zombie support. hes poisoned and at half a heart. he survives and gavin comes in to help kill the witch. michael joins in and kills her in a couple hits. "patillo sends his regards" alfredo continues experimenting with crafting no jumping on the farm!!! what the fuck is alfredo building the lads find an abandoned mineshaft jack is unhappy with the house. so is alfredo gavin is unhelpful with torches when jeremy gets fucked by a spider jack gets chased by a skeleton trying to gather supplies. two hearts. he makes it back to the house with alfredo keeping the monsters at bay day breaks. DAY 5 (DON'T FALL ASLEEP) ryan finds diamond. he is now marked for death the tree of hope becomes lindsays grave "here lies lindsay. she was a good wife" its the tree of life and death gavin has armor alfredo steals michaels iron. he is fucking pissed the tree is now the tree of wife

#achievement hunter #ydyd #ah minecraft #ah ydyd #ya dead ya dead #rt ah #in the life

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ask-dbd-laurie-strode · 8 years ago

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I understand if this comes off as a stupid question but... what do you think of each killer? I can safely assume you have a hatred for Michael, but what about the others?

“That… I don’t even know how to respond to this…”Laurie paused, her face set with a world weary resignation to it. “They’re all.…all of them are horrible. Serving the beast… the spider of darkness, like its their god…and we… their lambs for the slaughter.” She paused, a brief shudder passing through her..…“Michael… I hate him. I will always hate him the most. What he did to me. What he did to my friends…” Laurie clenched her fists, fury weighing her words with venom, “He is pure evil… doesn’t have reason for what he is… but I will say… I am wary of his tricks.” A smirk, an expression rare to see on Laurie’s face, briefly darkened the edges of her mouth. “That bastard.…he isn’t so tough… I’ve learned his tricks… The Obsession gives me that… gives me an advantage…” The vehement smirk was gone in an instant, Laurie blinked several times, as though awakening from a bad dream. “.…” “Out of all the killers. The worst to deal with is probably the Doctor. He’s literally so terrifying that we can’t stop his… his static from prying behind our skulls and pulling our brains apart.” “Worse yet.…out of all the killers, he seems to enjoy hunting us the most. And sometimes… you can just… tell that he… ugh…” Laurie’s face scrunched in disgust at the mere thought. “It’s disgusting… like he gets off on injuring us.” Laurie’s eyes slowly drained of light, “He… he knows… how to bring the past back, how to wrench us into our worst moments and make us scream…make us feel true terror like no other…” Laurie wordlessly wiped her eyes for a moment, the hint of tears reddening her face slightly. “He also never shuts up… I can tell you that it was quite shocking when I first heard him speak… it’s quite horrifying… the things he says.” “The Trapper.…god, he’s almost as bad as the Doctor… he’s always brutal. Never have I ever seen him hesitate to injure or hook us. Even with my Obsession effecting him, he doesn’t flinch to go in for the kill…” “Also… there’s something about him… he looks like he has been tortured… but his actions… he might be forced to do it… but after all this time… he’s lost all humanity, all hope… he’s resigned to satiating the beast…”"I feel so bad for Dwight… he was all alone with that one for the longest time… all alone, on that damned coal mine, not knowing what to do, or what was happening… it breaks my heart thinking about how scared he must have been… how alone he felt and how hopeless it was when that horrid grin was closing in…” Laurie momentarily glanced about, Dwight wasn’t nearby… had he been, she might’ve hugged him.

“The woman with the Rabbit mask… ‘The Huntress…’ she’s so human… it’s bizarre… I remember when I first ran into her, I was stricken by how… alive she was. Compared to the other killers… she seems to have most of her original self intact… that’s not necessarily good though… She seems to really enjoy hunting us… taunting with her hatchets before going in for the kill…” “I.…I remember the first time… I don’t understand how or why, but I should’ve been dead. That Hatchet hit me square in the back… I feel like it should’ve gone through me… that’s how hard it hit me… how deep the wound was…kinda odd to focus on… but its just another way of knowing this world isn’t like home… no amount of bodily damage can apparently kill us unless the Entity allows it…” A far off look overtook Laurie’s eyes, giving a soft, almost wistful edge to her voice as she spoke up again.“The way she sings… it’s haunting… almost like she’s looking for something… but whatever it is she is looking for… I doubt she’ll ever find it.”

“The Cannibal… he seems… scared… no, he is, he’s terrified. He’s so afraid… that sometimes… sometimes I can’t help but wonder if he’d do this to us if he had to…” Laurie paused, biting her lip as she did so, before continuing. “He.…wears our faces… he’s as horrible as all the others… and he isn’t shy about giving us a run-through with that horrible chainsaw… but… I don’t know… I’ve heard him crying… like a small child whose just so lost and can’t find their way…” “When he sees me… he reacts with a sort of… hurried panic. As though losing sight would be the end of the world… so Naturally I am usually in trouble if he finds me.” The ashen-blonde gripped herself in discomfort, a worried grimace on her face, “He… actually is kind of… odd about it when he catches me. As though… ugh… I know… I KNOW it’s that stupid Obsession…” Laurie let out a frustrated sigh. The Nurse.…she’s one of the more unpredictable ones… And I don’t just mean because she can be on top of you in the blink of an eye…" “She…has a weird habit of sort of hesitating, like she is upset… and she also… well. She was one of the first ones I’ve ever heard speak… I didn’t even think they could talk… but she spoke to Nea before… and…” Laurie clenched her jaw, “…And once… she was able to just kill us, no need for hooks… she floated up onto me… held me down, I remember just staring at that filthy bag… could see her lips moving through the cloth…”’You… I will… huuuunghhhh… I will saaaaaaave you… it… it will be okay… child…’ “…she.…she has a strange idea of what saving is… or maybe… maybe it’s better to die? Maybe better to be killed by them… instead of being carried away by the spider?” “In any case… she usually kills us all. Almost every time with no trouble… it’s always a nightmare against her.”

“The Hag… Ace had been in many trials with her before… so when he came by, he knew what to do. He helped us prepare… but even so… every trail with that creature is a constant pull and tug…” “She curses us, every single time, and the moment we realize it, we know it will be bad…” “When she gets her special ”free-meal“ ability, its even worse… she’ll literally start tearing us apart… shoving our flesh and organs into her gaping maw…”“She’s hungry… so hungry and so willing to hurt us for our blood.” Laurie paused, “However… she’s really slow… so it’s sometimes easy to lose her… but she makes up for that by herding us into those weird mud drawings… I can’t tell you how bizarre it is… feeling the whole world rip you on its axis and staring those creepy mud monsters in the eyes… It’s not something you forget… or ever get used to…” “The Hillbilly.…every time I start a trial, I usually end up catching sight of that hunched-over aura… and immediately… he uses that unholy chainsaw to run straight over and dig it straight into my flesh…” Laurie suppressed a shudder, gripping her arm at the mere thought… “It never fails… I always end up accidentally glimpsing him… at the worst moments… and he runs straight over… happens with the Nurse too… and other killers… but that one… He is driven by something… a rage that never dies.” “He’s like the Trapper… holds no hesitation in his pursuit… and the Obsession actually seems to make him even more furious… every trail against him is nerve wracking because you hear that saw rev, and you have no clue which side he might come from… "Ugh.…the Wraith… now that one… is always a problem for me…” “He can turn invisible… and when he does… my perk… the Object of Obsession… it activates with him even though he’s so close… so He’ll usually see me when I’m trying to look for a way to escape…” “When he catches a scent… he never loses you…so… I’m kinda screwed unless…” Laurie paused.…she didn’t even want to think it… but the thought pushed in…’Unless everyone else is dead… of course…’“…” “He kills me probably the most… alongside the Nurse… I just can’t hide from him…” Laurie shook her head, clearly uncomfortable with continuing… “Well.…that leaves the newest one… Fred Kreuger. The Nightmare… that disgusting… horrible man… He’s right there with the Doctor… he relishes in our pain…” Laurie paused, “But… he seems sad too. Or maybe frustrated? Probably because he’s not as powerful anymore… judging by what Quentin said…” At the mention of Quentin, Laurie’s eyes immediately fell, her hands clasping themselves. “…Serves that bastard right… what he did to Quentin… to those children… what he says to me in trials…” Her hands were trembling now. ’You’re special.…aren’t you, sweetie?’ Laurie gripped her fist, “He… he undermines most of my abilities… I’ve been trapped with him… quite a few times because of it…” ’You’re different from her… but… there’s something… heh-huh-heh…’ “Well.…there you have it. They are all horrible, unstoppable monsters…”

#loooong post #dead by daylight #ask-dbd-laurie-strode #pete-love-amporas #sniperblp123 #killers

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