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samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires · 7 months

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BELOW THE SURFACE: CHAPTER ONE: A Petal's Decay:

A/N: Hello hello hello! Thank you to those who participated in the poll of if I should cross post: the most answers were for yes! So here we are...and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!! That is a HUGE HUGE HUGE blessing to me. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough for how happy this makes me feel. So now, as a thank you for your support through my rambunctious posts and chaotic DMs, I present to you...

Below the Surface: A 2023 Lackadaisy Fanfiction...now posted here, there, and NOW on Tumblr. Enjoy!

"His voice means to deceive you...my voice just wants to lead you...Below the Surface."

-🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹-

The smell of cigarettes was heavily sticking in the air. An overwhelming warmth accompanied it in the suite. The night was muggy, hence why she locked up all the windows. It was a warm Missouri night: yet Lacrimosa Ambrose was far from tired, despite how late it was.

She was in her lavish flapper dress, consisting of pigments of indigo and black. She had toed off her shoes and let the feather boa around her slip down, softly and caressing her arms. Tonight was a rather eventful night for the jazz singer: she really brought the blues out in her sultry voice. She was fawned over by many men, and she adored the attention secretly: yet she never wanted anything serious with anyone, as she was a lone wolf in the relationship department. However…no one ever asked about her… side hustle, regarding her occupation in the Rose Brigade: she was the boss after all …

That’s good: if people became suspicious, she would end up shooting some people in the head with her Colt M1911 pistol…she’d thank her husband for that lovely gift…if he weren’t dead.

She got up off her couch, sauntering over to her phone as she spun the dial numbers slowly and deliberately, and she put the phone to her ear. She sighed sharply, her pointed ears perking downwards slightly, and she took another hit from her cigarette to calm herself down.

“Mei deliciae, this is getting old…I get you’re in Hotel Maribel, but at least speed up this process.” She told the other person on the phone.

“Of course, of course! I’ve just been…under the weather.” He reassured her: Silas Tueuse, a French actor visiting Missouri with his sister Raquelle, was far from innocent…just like Ms. Lacrimosa.

“If you mean you were busy being at a damn juice joint and getting sick from drinking too much giggle water , then you are surely a fool to think you can fool me with this excuse.” Lacrimosa chided, as if she was talking to a child: from her perspective, she might as well be. She was almost twice Silas’ and Raquelle’s age, and her beauty slowly dimmed as more wrinkles showed from stress.

“Ah, shucks,” Silas hissed a bit, snapping his fingers, “that trick never works, dunnit?”

“Use proper grammar in my presence, Tueuse. I will not ask you again.” Lacrimosa twirled with her pearled necklace with a finger, and her claw retracted.

“What’s the problem with the way I speak, ma’am?”

“You and your sister come from wealthy parents, I highly expected some elegance from you.”

“Ma’am, I come from a French mother and an English father, as does my little sister: we have different ways of speaking: she’s like mother, I’m like father. So expect a bit of slip ups and slangs from us…~”

Lacrimosa internally cursed him. She sucked in a sharper breath, brandishing her cigarette. “Silas, do me a favor and get yourself in line…I won’t hesitate to lodge a bullet in your pretty little skull.” She glanced over towards an ebony desk, seeing a slightly rusted revolver, glinting a little in the soft lighting.

“...yes ma’am.”

“Are you about to go down from your room to…do the task?”

“In a few moments…after all, I am a good actor~” Silas pulled out a small vial of cyanide, playing with it. “After all, I could always slip it into a drink or two.”

“You remember the target?”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll get it done as soon as I can.”

“I want you to go immediately after we finish this call: is that clear?”

Silas grimaced: “Yes, that is crystal clear, Ms. Lacrimosa.” Oh lord, what was he going to do? His sister was conked out on the hotel bed in Hotel Maribel, after drinking too many dry martinis and throwing up on herself in a not–so elegant fashion. She had changed out into something much more comfortable to sleep in.

“Good: that’s my left hand man~” Lacrimosa teased, smiling with feigned sweetness. She then hung up abruptly, the smile drooping into a deep, frustrated frown. She rubbed at her temples, leaning against the table and sighing. Her tail thumped against the wood, and she walked over to the window, opening it. The smoke and smell of cigarettes wafted out of the apartment complex, and she pressed her elbows on the windowsill, hands under her chin. Her amber eyes dulled, watching the cars, the people, and everything else slowly drift by. She craved some form of entertainment, something different from the dullness. St. Louis was a hit or miss sometimes…but soon there will be a good story: a good dose of entertainment, all thanks to the French actor Silas Tueuse. She smiled, flicking off some ash and ember, and it landed on her rose plant…the flame ate at one of the petals, and it shriveled up: she didn’t feel too bad. The poor plant was dying anyway…

Her ears flicked at the sound of a violin. She sighed almost gently, shoulders dropping. She extinguished her cigarette onto the ashtray, put her shoes back on, and grabbed her feathered boa again, wrapping it around her: the violinist lived in the exact same apartment building as Lacrimosa, and boy did she love her like a daughter. She grabbed her keys and left her apartment, locking the door and leaving. She began treading down the hallway, tail slowly swishing in sync with the violin’s notes. She hummed along to the tune. She knocked on the door at the end of the hall, and the music stopped. There were footsteps, and the door opened.

An older Sphynx with a left glass eye and scar marks stared at her, an eyebrow raised. Her cold, stern features softened slightly. Her ice blue eyes dulled, and she backed away, beckoning Lacrimosa to enter.

“Your playing is soothing, Mandisa. I enjoy it.” Lacrimosa walked into the darker apartment, and she put her arms at her sides. She gazed around with a bit of a sleepy–eyed look to her.

Mandisa smiled slightly: despite being wrinkly, she was still a bit in her youth: thirty–five was still rather young. “I’m doing it for the kids.” She told her.

“They’re asleep, yes?” Lacrimosa raised a brow.

“Both Cassandra and Malachi, yes.”

“...what about the other one?”

“Don’t you recall? He’s living with his father.”

“My condolences.”

“It’s quite alright.”

Their conversations were light, but filled with calmness and respect.

“I have another job for you, Silas, Raquelle and the others.” Lacrimosa fluffed up her boa.

“So soon?” Mandisa straightened herself up.

“Yes…Silas is already after the target. He’ll be done rather soon…but that’s not the point. We’re going after Marigold’s head honcho.”

“...really? Asa Sweet?”

“Bold, isn’t it?”

“A little tempting, but much more dangerous: don’t you remember his little shadow? James has that divot in his ear thanks to Heller’s bullet!”

“Damn…that’s right.”

“Certainly, we can’t go head on.”

Lacrimosa then grinned deviously. “Lure Heller away…as well as his little posse. We could also ruin some lives in the Little Daisy Cafe~”

Mandisa sat down, her tail curled next to her thigh. “This is…interesting.”

“In due time, everything will work out~” Lacrimosa grinned sharply, crossing one leg over the other. “Lure them all away…that way, we pluck away everything they love.”

…and this is the beginning of how things become twisted.

-🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹🌼🏵️🌹-

Aaaaand here's chapter one! I'm going to post a chapter or two on here a day, but once I really write more in the future, the posting process fic-wise might slow down. Either way, hope you enjoy!

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sharksa-shivers · 7 months

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How to magic work huh??

(Nucleo sits down tiredly next to Kristy, leaning his head up at the ceiling and closing his eyes)

Kristy:(curious)…….So i've seen…Some of your magic but…I'm still kinda…curious…

Nucleo:(opens his eyes and looks over)I'm listening.

Kristy:(taking that as a green light, a bit weirded out as she asks)So…Orange Hair said you have like…Coated organs? I…What does that mean?

Nucleo:(sitting up some and brushing his hair back a bit)Means just that heh…I got poison proof coating on em all…Keeps me poison and disease proof.

Kristy:(a bit taken aback by that, curious)…So…On like…All your organs? You have that???

Nucleo:(nods, smirking)Yep, sure do.

Kristy:(a bit in disbelief)…Your brain?

Nucleo:(nods)Yep! Poison proof!

Kristy:(Stares)Your lungs?

Nucleo:(trying to get comfortable in the chair he's sitting in)Yep, fumes don't bother me! (Thinks)Okay, well, some smell pretty bad so…Ehhhh, but like…If i inhale straight up radiation, i'll live to tell about it…(smirks)Maybe i've already done that maybe…

Kristy:(taken aback still)…Your stomach?

Nucleo:(nodding, smirking)Coated inside and out, yep yep! Love me some cyanide in my morning coffee with a side of pufferfish!

Kristy:(stunned)…So…….Literally everything is coated?

Nucleo:(laughing a bit)Yes, that's what i said, yep!

Kristy:(staring)……..That's fucking insane…

Nucleo:(smirking and shrugging)Ya got me there but damn if it's not a nice thing to have…It's pretty nice, won't lie…

Kristy:(staring)She said you had green blood too? I…? How?

Nucleo:(happy to explain)Yeah! Okay, so…As mers go, it's…Pretty much just us radiation mers that have different blood colors…But ours are colored different because of the magic we have. The magic is our coating and if your were able to actually see the coatings, you'd see mine are green too. Our blood is kinda different colored just cuz of the coatings pretty much… ---- I bringith you some Nucleo stuff/magic lore stuff. I have more too lol, ima post it in a bit probably. :p (Below is Nucleo btw cuz i haven't posted him here yet, he important lol) Also this is...Obvs early series stuff but that's good cuz we gotta start somewhere yeah?

#kidnappedseries #kidnappedseries dialog stuff

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Sweet Tooth

Corpse Husband x Asian Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tooth-rotting (😉) Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse isn’t one to have a big preference or craving for sweet, sugary treats. In fact, he’d even go as far as to say he’s not at all a fan of candy. Well, much to his yet to be known delight, his partner Y/N takes that as a personal challenge.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request! So sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it despite the long time that’s passed. If you do, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey guys! Welcome back to my channel!“ Y/N gives the camera a wave and blows it a quick kiss with their lips stretched in a delighted grin. They clap their hands together, turning to look at their guest who’s sitting in a chair on their right, his face covered with a sticker in the final cut of the video that their viewers have the opportunity of watching. “Ok, before we address the elephant in the room, I’m gonna ask the elephant himself not to move his head too much cause this is already gonna take a long time to edit, the last thing I need is to animate that sticker over your face to follow your movement.“

“Got it, babe.“ A deep voice replies obediently, earning an approving hum in response. However, just as Y/N’s about to turn to face the camera again, the mysterious - ok, not THAT mysterious - guest leans down and plants a kiss on their cheek.

“Brat!“ They squeal as they turn to glare at the person with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t appear bothered at all, chuckling as he wraps his arms around them in an attempt to soften them up. Sadly, his tries fall through as they proceed to ignore his affection instead of reciprocating it for the sake of being petty, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Corpse.“

“Hello, I am hand.“ Corpse says, slowly waving his hand at the camera, “I shall be your entertainment tonight.“

“Oh this is no entertainment, I have a point to prove here.“ Y/N argues, breaking free from his arms before they bend down to pick up one of the two boxes that are resting by their feet. “You see, Corpse and I got in a bit of a scrap last night...“ they trail off, distracted by the contents of the box that’s now resting on their lap.

“I didn’t think me admitting to not liking sweet stuff would provoke such a dramatic reaction from Y/N but here we are.“ He interferes, lifting a finger in the air as though that will help him be heard better or would protect him in case his partner decided to go off at him.

Y/N just ignores his input yet again, continuing to address the camera, aka their audience, “So as you guys may or may not know, my mom’s Korean and my dad’s Japanese. Since they live in their respective countries for work purposes, that means I’m always one phone call - and a little bit of a wait - away from Korean and Japanese snacks at all times. I’m a person who constantly has a snack by their side so you can bet I make that phone call often. However, about a week ago, I made that call specifically for candy, the brands I was obsessed with as a kid. I don’t know what came over me but I think it was my fortuneteller sense kicking in because this mister over here decided to CASUALLY bring up the fact that he doesn’t like candy.” They turn to glare at him before continuing, “Anyways, so luckily, the package arrived only recently so I haven’t had the time to tear open all the candy and eat it all by myself as I was planning to. That being said, today I’ll be in introducing Corpse to the world of Japanese and Korean candy - a tighter circle of it, to be specific: the candy I grew up with.” They finally turn to Corpse again, the look on their face significantly different and a lot more pleasant compared to the one they gave him a bit ago. “So, how are you feeling, babe? Are you excited?”

Although the man’s face is blocked to the viewers, Y/N can still see him and they are pretty damn close to bursting out in a fit of laughter. “I don’t know how to feel, actually. I know you have peculiar taste so it’s either gonna be a fun experience or I’m gonna very displeased with what you’ll have me try.“

Y/N rolls their eyes, “Trust me, you won’t be.” They put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, only half humoring his nervousness, “You’ll only be trying six on camera, but my parents sent a ton more which you’ll be able to try later, ok? It was really hard for me to pick only six favorites by I don’t need this video crossing the twenty minute mark.”

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Corpse finally brings himself to rip the band-aid off and get this adventure started. “Ok cool, but don’t surprise me with anything, please. Show me what you had in mind to have me try so I can, you know, prepare myself.”

Y/N, who was busy taking out packets of candy just a moment ago suddenly stops in their movements to give him a look of disbelief, “You know none of these are poisonous, right? Like, I’m not trying to kill you or anything. There’s no cyanide, no rat poison...”

His laughter cuts them off, wrapping his arm around them and pulling them closer again, “I’m messing with you, babe. What you got for me?” He says, placing a quick kiss to their temple while sneaking a peek at the packaging of the candies they’re holding right now.

Wiggling a little looser in his grip, they first show him the three items before turning them to the camera, “These are from my mom, she sent them from Korea and they are triggering a massive wave of nostalgia right now, not gonna lie.” They giggle, adjusting the brightness a little so the products can be seen properly, “Ok so first we have the long biscuit sticks that come in many flavors but I asked for my favorite - green tea flavored, that is. Then we have Pumpkin Monaca which are probably one of my most favorite sweet treats of all time. I think you’re gonna really like them. And lastly from Korea we have these butter waffles which I used to eat for breakfast when I was running late for school - which happened often.”

Corpse snorts, “That doesn’t surprise me.”

His remark is overlooked as Y/N continues, now taking out three packets from the other package, “Now we’re moving on to my dad’s box. He didn’t disappoint either: we have soda-flavored jelly beans; Black Thunder chocolate bars which you’re only gonna steal one of because the rest are MINE; and last but definitely not least we have some classic milk candies.” Setting those down as well, they turn to Corpse yet again, this time giving his a mischievous smile that’s promising him trouble, “So, Mr. Corpse Husband, after this introduction, are you prepared to have your entire opinion o sweet food changed? And more importantly, are you prepared to develop an addiction to these treats?”

Corpse nods confidently, “Oh, I’m very prepared, thank you. Let’s just get on with it.”

Needless to say: boy, was he not as prepared as he thought he was.

It goes without saying Y/N proved their point and took the win today.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari

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whatamidoingwithmylifeman · 2 years

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MK OC Scorpion's Revenge jokes

I don't know if I've posted them before, but fuck it I'll do it again. Here ya go @cyo-bro

Hanzo: Satoshi. Harumi! What is this!? Where am I?

Melantha: Hi sir, welcome to Netherrealm's BBQ. You'll be on the menu for tonight. As for "Satoshi" and "Harumi" I couldn't pick them from the grocery store, seeing as I'm not allowed to take groceries from the Gods. Any questions?

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Demon torturer: Ah. Fresh meat. *licks blade*

Melantha: Hey! What has dad said about licking the cooking utensils?

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Hanzo: *trying to break free*

Nozomi: Hey buddy! Twist to the left and then pull.

Demon Torturer: It's no use. You are a prisoner here

Nozomi: Shut up! I wanted to see him try!

------

Hanzo: For how long?

Demon Torturer: *laughs* Forever

Hanzo: How long is that?

Nozomi: Oh you know. About a few weeks. Maybe a holiday. A couple weekends- How long do you think?

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Demon Torturer: Your voice will soon join the others, rising up to please the great Shinnok.

Charu: Honestly I don't understand how my husband can stand it.

------

Hanzo: Shinnok?

Demon Torturer: The master of Netherrealm. There. The only place of reprieve in this realm. Look on it and weep

Charu: I'm about to cry myself. I told him to clean up the damn place while I was gone.

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Demon Torturer: We can do this for all eternity

Melantha: Actually dinner's at six. So you might wanna wrap this up, it's almost five! Come on man you know how long humans take to cook!

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Demon Torturer: Is that a prayer? *laughs* No. No God can help you here.

Melantha: Well actually got three Goddesses right here, however I have to prep for tonight's dinner, so- Hey mom where are you going?

Charu: *from a distance* I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR FATHER'S ASS FOR THAT GOD AWFUL MESS HE LEFT!

Melantha: OK! *Leaves*

Nozomi: Well. That leaves me, but I don't want to help.

Hanzo: I need no God

Nozomi: Oh thank the gods!

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Hanzo: Shinnok!

Quan Chi: No. Shinnok is indisposed.

Hanzo: Then go fetch him for me.

Quan Chi: If only I could.

Charu: *popping in* Where's my husband? I would like to have a word with him.

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Quan Chi: You may be a vengeful spirit. But even they have their limits.

Nozomi: So do you dad. You're not special.

------

Quan Chi: Long ago my master Shinnok was unjustly imprisoned. This is the key to his release. It's located on Shang Tsung's island. Get me the key. Once my master is released, he can return your family, even you to the mortal realm

Charu: I will personally give you fertile soil to grow whatever food you need up there, if you contact me as soon as you get to that key.

------

Raiden: That key won't solve your problems

Charu: *pops in* It'll solve mine though!

Raiden: It will, however, create new ones.

Charu: Yeah like the damn place not getting cleaned. Let me through Raiden!

------

Shang Tsung: You see Quan Chi, the trick is to always be ten steps ahead of your enemy. *Dumps drink* You think I didn't know you'd betray your own Emperor, Quan Chi?

Nozomi: *looking at the spilled contents* Dad, you idiot! I told you before, it's cyanide and THEN emetic poison. Not the other way around!

------

Scorpion: Then come take it from me, like you did my family.

Quan chi: Very well then. But please, put up more of a fight then your wife did.

Nozomi: *groans* that insult again? Oh jeez. Here let me do the insulting. *Turns to Scorpion and clears her throat* You know Hanzo, the only reason why your wife didn't put up much of a fight was because the thought of another night with you was already killing her. I mean, can you blame the poor woman? I'm surprised she didn't kill herself. I would if I had to be with someone like you! Poor Harumi had to spend every night married to a little bitch who wasn't packing much downstairs. Like buddy, are you sure those were real orgasms? Cause trust me I can tell you right now, they were definitely fake. I would know.

Quan Chi: You what?

Nozomi: I mean shit at this point, I'd do a better job at pleasing her than you did, you toasted, crusty faced, little bitch! *Turns to her dad* And that's you roast somebody!

Quan chi: I have several questions for you young lady!

Nozomi: Oh gee would you look that. I got another meeting. Well bye! *Disappears*

@yuvononik

@feistyfandomthings

@dontunderestimatemypoison

@that-one-snake

@tora-lotus

@maddenedroses

@thevoidwriting

@namigoll

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@irrelevant-subjects

@sanguinessunflower

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#mk oc nozomi #mk oc charu #mk scorpion #mk quan chi #mk shinnok #mk raiden #mk shang tsung #mk demon tortuer #scorpion's revenge #mk satoshi #mk harumi #mk oc melantha

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cybernaght · 3 years

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The Rebel/叛逆者: A Review of Sorts

After being only semi-invested in the Rebel, I ended up getting so into it in the final weeks of its release, I’ve shelled out on IQIYI premium just to get the final couple of episodes a few days earlier.

That’s right kids, it’s a Review of Sorts. Unfortunately, I could not find a translation of the novella the drama is based on, so will be looking at it as a separate entity.

Most of this post is spoiler-free, however I have dedicated a few paragraphs at the end of it to discussing the final episode, as there are a few specific things about it I wanted to mention. There is a clear spoiler warning before that part.

If you don’t want to risk it, TL;DR version of this review goes something like this: Rebel is very decent, and positively one of the best things that I have seen to come out of China since I’ve jumped into that particular rabbit hole. It’s pretty well written, it’s very beautifully dressed and shot, and the cast is killing it. I thought it dropped the ball a little in post production, and I did not always love the pacing. Other than that, it’s incredibly decent, and well worth watching, unless communist propaganda really irks you, in which case stay very well away.

I have been having many conversations with @supernovasimplicity all the way through watching this drama, so there are likely to be some thoughts here that are influenced by those.

The story centers around Lin Nansheng, a struggling servicemen in the Guomingdang party. He has a great analytical mind, and absolutely no emotional capacity for his job. He has trouble handling violence, he is impulsive, he cannot speak to his superiors without bursting into tears, and has nothing even remotely resembling a poker face. And that is what makes this drama as enjoyable as it is.

I don’t think Lin Nansheng’s journey would have been nearly as exciting had he started it from a place of competence. He botches up everything he touches because his big brain switches off the moment his emotions kick in. And so, when you see him grow in confidence, learn to control himself, learn to fake his smiles and compliments, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. It also makes Lin Nansheng very likeable as a character for reasons other than Zhu Yilong’s ability to look like a bush baby.

It did take me a while to feel fully engaged with his performance - not because there is anything lacking in it, but just because it’s hard to be truly surprised by his choices after the exposure I have given myself to his work. That said, at about a half-way point I got charmed by him anyway, and there were quite a few scenes that were truly mesmerising. There were scenes where he broke out of the familiar mould of big unguarded eyes and fluttering wet eyelashes, and tried something that was not pretty: every time to a great success. I am hoping to see more of that in his future work.

I really wanted to like the female lead, Zhu Yizhen, but unfortunately both the way she was written and the way she was performed by Tong Yao left me somewhat cold. It did not help of course that the screenplay ended up sidelining her at every turn, leaving her with very little personal agency. She was set up so interestingly, but in the end her sole purpose became being someone for Lin Nansheng to pine over. It is particularly curious from a perspective of meta storytelling: seeing how this is all centered around superiority of communism, which as a whole was, arguably, ahead of its time in the matters of binary gender equality.

The ensemble cast of the drama is stunning. Wang Yang came very close to stealing the show at several points as Chen Moqun, somehow managing to make his rather unlikeable character interesting. I can say the same thing about Zhu Zhu who absolutely shined as Lin Xinjie, showing an incredible range and imagination in her performance.

The overarching story of the show is engaging, with some incredibly suspenseful elements; every narrative arc including a nice progression through it. As spy thrillers go, it was fairly well plotted. You could if you go looking for a few things that did not pay off in a satisfying way (notably, the Chekhov’s cyanide capsule), but you overall the story really was well told for the most of it.

I did, however, feel like the pacing started to fall apart in the last quarter of the drama. Last episode in particular really did feel rushed, not just due to its pace, but also in a way it failed to pay off the final mission in any visible way. There will be more on that in the spoiler section of this post.

Important to note that The Rebel is a show made in Communist China in the year 2021. It does not ideologically side-step from the path that was laid out for it by that fact. Which is to say, it is, undeniably, filled with propaganda. Communists are the good guys, and if you think a good guy (or gal) is not a communist, they probably secretly are. With one exception of a friendly character who is not a communist, and whose fate we actually never find out. Curious, that.

The Rebel is not a kind of a show where censorship-appeasing scenes are shoehorned in. It’s a kind of a show in which the main theme is Sacrifice For the Party.

Aside from the being the moral vector of the show, Mao’s gentle teachings explicitly help get Ling Nansheng out of prolonged depression following his injury, and almost annoyingly, this sat incredibly well with the character, as he was written. Lin Nansheng is conceived as this naive idealist who wants to be on the front line, who needs validation and support of others. His - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - his being disillusioned in his beliefs and choosing to join a party which includes people whom he likes and trusts makes sense. Him finding this one thing that gives him hope and letting it propel him into gaining confidence and competence makes sense.

In many ways, the Rebel is a story of Lin Nansheng’s failure to become an antagonist within the world of the drama.

I have honestly spent this past couple of weeks pondering whether being well written makes political propaganda better or worse, whether the subtlety of it makes it more or less palatable, whether it’s enough, as a viewer, to be aware of it to shrug it off. Ultimately, this is not something I could or should make moral judgements on, but I do believe that it’s possible to acknowledge the fact that propaganda exists in the drama, and still appreciate it for a good piece of television that it is.

That said, I am very well aware that me being kind of okay with it stems entirely from my own removal from the culture this is made in, and I am, perhaps, lucky to even have a choice as to whether I want to engage with a product which is, undoubtably, here to dress political ideology in fancy clothes.

I have, on the other hand, also seen many things in Russian media of the “Annexation of Crimea is Good Actually” variety and those make me feel very unwell, so feeling somewhat at ease with blatant political propaganda in Chinese media makes me the biggest hypocrite.

But, I digress.

Before we go into some specific plot-related things, I would like to mention that the Rebel has this weird dichotomy in which the production is sublime, and the post-production… not so much. The show very well shot. Every element of it sits perfectly together, not a single prop out of place, not a single extra underdressed, not a page of script not put to good use. It’s lit to perfection. It’s scored beautifully. So much of this show is just stunning.

And then… there is post-production.

This is not even about bad CGI (and the CGI is, indeed, bad), it’s just that most of post-production as a whole feels rushed.

Starting with surprisingly imperfect editing, which at times just fails to make the scene flow together. The final line of dialogue would be spoken within a scene, and it would fade to black instantly without a single breath to indicate a full stop. A montage sequence would be created, but every shot within it condensed to a second, making it feel incredibly fast-paced when the effect should be the opposite. There would be a cut away from a speaking character and to the same speaking character from a slightly different angle, making it dynamic without any reason to do so. There are a couple of truly startling jump-cuts.

I did not speed this gif up. This is part of a romantic montage, edited like it’s a goddamn action sequence.

And of course dear old friend slowing down footage shot at 24FPS. Please don’t do this. You think no one notices - but we do.

There are other tell-tale signs of production rushing to the finish line: occasional, but very noticeable ADR glitches, very sloppy job done at sound mixing, which contribute to parts of the show feeling ever so slightly off.

It’s not unforgivable, but it does make me wish the same amount of care and efforts that went into shooting this drama would also go into it after it was all in the can.

Oh, and just because if you know me you know I have a professional fixation on fights, and I am happy to say most action scenes are toe-curlingly delightful. Hot damn those fights are good. I am absolutely in love with the shot below, for example. Placing an actor behind a piece of set so he can exchange places with the stunt double during a one shot is such an old trick, but the execution, timing and camerawork are just... flawless. This is what perfection looks like.

Now we got all that out of the way...

SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE BELOW

Here’s the thing. I wanted to love the ending and I found that I could not.

The final mission was presented as important, and honestly the scene in which Zhu Yizhen is sending the vital message out as Lin Nansheng holds his ground in hand to hand fight is incredibly dynamic. Party, this is due to the fight itself being incredibly well choreographed, yes, but it’s also where it sits within the narrative, how high the stakes are for everything surrounding it.

But then, the tension all but bleeds out. The Important Message is sent, the fight is won, and we are treated to ten minutes of a very slow car chase, problem of which is not even its speed as much as its placing within the story. As in, by this point both of those operatives have lost their cover, and completed their Very Important Mission. It would be very sad if they died, but their survival does not technically contribute to their cause. Moreover, Zhu Yizhen getting mortally injured in order to protect Lin Nansheng as part of her mission read a little empty when the mission is technically over.

While I personally found Lin Nansheng slow recuperation and his low key ending enjoyable, I think I would have preferred to have seen a more tangible pay-off to all the sacrifices made in the name of “bright communist future”, just a little more justification for every moment of death and despair we witnessed. I would have certainly at the very least preferred to see Wang Shi’an’s death on screen. Considering how many likeable characters martyred themselves on screen, denying us the death of the one antagonist just seemed cruel.

I really did love the ambiguity of the final few scenes however, if we consider the children choir at the end a fantasy. The idea that Lin Nansheng will live out his life in this hope that Zhu Yizhen is still alive, imagining her just outside of his field of vision, his only joy being in this fantasy of her… now, that is incredibly strong. I equally like the idea of rest being promised to him at the end of his journey, and said rest being painful, and slow and unwelcome.

But it felt like as they chose not to to lean into the “sweet” part of the bitter-sweet tone of the ending and we’re unable not commit to the “bitter” part either, so it lands with a splat which is somewhat lacklustre.

---

This concludes my thoughts on the Rebel.

I am more or less out of Zhu Yilong’s filmography to watch, which is probably a good thing at this point. I have just emerged out of several back to back work projects - literally today - and will hopefully once more have time for things I grew to enjoy doing during the lockdown.

Those things, if you have not guessed, include watching Chinese television and writing things about Chinese television.

#the rebel #叛逆者 #Zhu Yilong #review of sorts #now with gifs #chinese drama

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 5- Buried Remembrances

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? Honestly I don’t know how I am doing. I had a massive breakdown just now and my mom is still yelling at me. Everything has just been a mess. So, please ignore any mistakes, and I am really sorry if it is not good. I am just not in the best state of mind rn and if I don’t post it, I will never get it done. Sorry for the ramble and I hope you still enjoy reading whatever this is 💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: ~2K

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, They've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex were stupefied on seeing Mark's condition. He was the jolliest man they have ever known, his happy-go-lucky personality and on-point sense of humour acted as a charm on the surrounding people. This was one of the qualities which made him an amazing doctor because he could relieve patients from their sorrows and pain and make them open up.

But seeing him like this, so broken, so fragile made them realize that a smile sometimes hides a thousand scars behind it.

"Mark, listen to me!! I cannot see you like this. Please calm down. I am damn worried" Alex said, keeping tears at the brink.

"Lex, I love you. You are my strength, my power. Hell, you are my everything. Don't cry. If you cry, I won't be able to tell what I want to. And the pain will again kill me inside." Mark pleaded.

"Okay, I will try to keep as calm as possible. But, promise me, if matters start getting out of hand, you will stop." Alex said.

"Yes, Mark. If someone knows something about painful childhoods that is Ethan and me. So if you can't talk about it, you won't talk about it. We are heck worried about you, man!" Pooja said.

"I Promise. If I feel like having a nervous breakdown, I will stop. But please hear me out. These memories have stayed hidden for so long that now they feel like a burden. I need to get them out."

Then Mark began continuing his story,

"Remember when I told you in the car that I had a brother?"

"Yes, you said that. I suppose your pain was caused by your brother's death?" Ethan asked

"Ha Ha Ha" Mark let out a bitter laughter. "No, that man is not dead. Yes, my pain is caused by my brother but not by his death. By his deeds."

"He was my favourite person in the world. He was my best friend, my study partner, the person who would listen to my endless rambles. He was the only person who understood me and my thoughts. Or, at least that's what I th-th-thought."

Mark paused, face pale. Something was not right.

"Mark, are you alright? MARK!?" Alex exclaimed.

Mark was slowly losing consciousness. He said slowly, "P-P-Please t-t-take m-me-home... I-I c-can't stand b-being here."

The three sprang into action. Ethan helped Mark in the backseat of the car. Alex sat beside him, placing his head on her shoulder. Pooja sat in the passenger seat. Ethan got behind the wheel and drove to their penthouse.

After reaching, they seated Mark and tried to change the topic for him to feel better. The tension cooled down, and Mark felt better.

"You all are the damn best people in the world. I could never imagine anyone to be so concerned for me. Everybody used to see a happy face and think I am fine. But no one understood my pain like you three do." Mark said, gratitude and love shining in his eyes.

"But, I need to complete my tale. Now that I am feeling better and that we are home, I am sure there will be no more troubles."

Mark continued his story.

"Also, did I tell you that my brother was my inspiration to become a doctor? He was the first doctor in our family. When he was in Med school, he used to tell me the things he learnt. He built that interest for medicine in me."

"Wait a sec!" Pooja stopped him abruptly. "Stop me if I am over-stepping, but your brother is a doctor?! But, But-" She couldn't complete the sentence, but everyone understood what she was thinking.

"Baby, we should not jump into conclusions. Let Mark complete." Ethan stopped her from putting out her thoughts.

"Yes, my brother is or at least was a doctor. B-Before he, he..." Mark stuttered.

"Before he was arrested."

The three gasped. Mark's brother, was arrested?!

"Wait what, he was... arrested? But why? " Alex said, surprise in her tone.

"He, he was arrested for prescribing the WRONG DOSES OF MEDICINES TO HIS PATIENTS" Mark shouted, anger boiling and tears welling up in his eyes. "HE FREAKING MURDERED AT LEAST 3 OF HIS PATIENTS BECAUSE HE PRESCRIBED THEM SUPER HIGH DOSES OF THEIR DRUGS" The tears left his eyes.

"A-And he didn't stop there. He tried to k-k-kill our dad. He...He tried to inject a heavy dose of benzodiazepine to our dad." Mark completed. The horror and shock was evident on the other three's faces. Mark's brother, tried... to kill his dad? But why?

"But why in god's name did he ever do that?" Ethan asked.

"No one knows. The police questioned him for days, months, but got no reply. The only thing he used to do was laugh on their faces and tell them that he will get his revenge." Mark said.

"The day he was arrested, since that day he was considered dead by our family. But the news had a devastating effect on our family. Patients called, hurled abuses, threatened to kill. The neighbours threatened to throw us out. With my dad being sick, me and my mom had to bear it all. All this broke her. So once I got into residency, I took my mom and dad out of that horrid place and brought them to NYC with me."

"But their joy lasted less. My mom, she died within six months of transferring. My dad stayed a little longer. T-The last day of my residency was the last day of is life. And you know what were his last words?"

"What?" The other three asked in unison.

"Don't become Miles" Mark says, tears flowing down his eyes. But, as the three observed, a sense of calm spread through his face. As if a weight had been lifted, from his soul.

"So your brother's name was..."

"Miles, yaa."

"Mark, I hope you are feeling better now. Getting that all out, it must have been a hell of a pain." Pooja asked, remembering her painful childhood.

"Yes, it is. God, I needed to do this. Now I am feeling so fresh, so new. I can finally leave those dark times behind me and start leaving a new life." Mark spoke with a flicker of new hope, new life.

All the while, listening to Mark's story, Pooja was thinking about her pain. Her tale, her own story. She saw how calm and peaceful Mark was after getting it all out. Even after trying, she couldn't remember him being this peaceful, anytime before. She realized that today or tomorrow, she had to take it all out. No matter how hard she tried to bury it, it would come out.

"Mark, do you think, you-your brother could do..." Alex asked with a bit of uneasiness.

"Nothing impossible for a man who tried to kill his father. And also, I am damn sure if the card brought us to my childhood neighbourhood, it would lead to his private clinic. Only he had his practice set up there." Mark scoffed.

"We should look into that. But first we need to check on the questions we had written in our notebook. We need to complete the research as soon as possible. Mark, Lex, can you stay here for the night, we could finish it today itself if you two could be here." Ethan said.

"Yaa, we surely can. No, we would love to. You know, whose is a better tension-calmer than me, hmm? I am a humour boss." And with that, old Mark was back.

"Sure, Mark, sure. But maybe the points to the best sarcasm goes to Lex?" Ethan chuckled.

"Ohh, Ramsey. That's what makes me and Walton soulmates." Mark said, trying to pull Alex into a hug.

"Mark, SHUT UP! You know I hate hugs. I hugged you earlier because I was hecking worried. Now, hush!" Alex said, trying to hide a giggle and spectacularly failing

After a few more moments of laughter, the four set to work. They thought they would not find much about their questions on the 'net, but what they read shocked them more and more. As they got the information, they started writing it down below the respective questions.

1. Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Richard Davis. 43. Investment banker. Originally pursuing Medicine, later went on to pursue his interest in investment banking.

2nd part: No answer

2. Why did no one from his associations never come to question about him?

No answers

3. Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

No answer. But speculating that the murderer is Miles Danvers.

4. How was the murder committed?

Acute cyanide poisoning. Throat slit afterwards.

5. Addresses.

Address No. 1 checked, the MedMinders Store. Not checked Address 2 but is possibly Miles Danvers's private clinic.

6. MedMinders Drug Store

Checked. Valuable information received.

7. D.I.B.S.15

No Idea.

"So far, so less. We are beautifully lacking on information." Mark remarked.

"Agreed. Agreed. But wasn't this man supposed to be high-profile?" Alex said

"Maybe high-profile with full pockets. Not fame." Pooja said.

Ethan however, did not partake in the discussion. He was busy thinking something.

"Ethan? What are you thinking?" Pooja asked on seeing his furrowed eyebrows."

"I think I might know what D.I.B.S.15 means," Ethan said

"What? I mean, how? That could mean anything" Alex said, visibly surprised.

"No, not anything. I think it means, 'Davis, Investment Banker, Scam 2015" Ethan put out his thoughts.

"D, understood, I.B, understood, but S and 15? How did you deduce them to be scam 2015?" Pooja asked.

"I remember reading about it. It was one of the biggest investment scams ever. And it was speculated that some high-profile investment banker was behind it. But the real culprit was never caught." Ethan laid out his thoughts.

"So, this man is a fish of the deep waters. He is so much more than what we thought." Mark said

"And that also means that if somebody had come to know about it, then he had enough enemies. This mystery is getting tangled with every passing moment." Alex said.

While talking and discussing possible theories, they looked at the clock. 2 at night.

"Oh, dear! We have work tomorrow. God, let's get some sleep, otherwise we will be like living zombies in the halls tomorrow." Pooja said, giggling.

The four tidied up the living room, said their goodnights and went to sleep.

The nightmares began again. Pooja couldn't sleep an ounce. She was too afraid to close her eyes. The memories terrified her.

Enough. No more nightmares. No more suffering. No more sleepless nights. She was tired of feeling so powerless.

"Ethan, Ethan" She gave him a jerk.

"What is it, Poo? Are you okay, is it the nightmares again?" Ethan woke up with a start.

"I need to tell you. All about this. I cannot bear it any more." Pooja said.

"I am all ears, baby. Tell me everything. If this can make you sleep, I am ready to wake all night to listen to you." Ethan said, pulling her in his arms.

Enclosed in his arms, she laid it all in front of him. The way her mother was murdered. The way she was kidnapped when she was only 11. The terror she felt when she was all alone. The horror when she saw the bloody knife. And the heartbreak and pain she felt when it was found out to be her aunt, her mother's sister was behind all it. The disgust that she felt towards her when she revealed her sinister plans, her hunger for money.

At last, everything was out. As if she was free. As if now, there were no troubles in her life. But what happened till now was only the taste of a sinister plan. The actual dish was yet to be served.

PS: If you have come this far, I am truly grateful to you. I just hope to be at a better place the next time and be okay. But I will stop this ramble now and I hope you have a great day ahead💕

Tags: @bbrandy2002 @kaavyaethanramsey @ohramsey @hopelessromanticmonie @trrfanaddict @nervoussaladsludgeopera @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019@3riche @chetachisblog @starrystarrytrouble @arcticrivers @aylaramseycarrera @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx@angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @nikki-2406 @neotericthemis @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

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im-totally-not-an-alien · 4 years

Text

Final Fantasy prompts # 31

1. Sephiroth uses Cloud as a therapist.

Sephiroth going on about his life while Cloud is tied to a chair and gagged is just hilarious to me.

2. AVALANCHE, Sephiroth and the Turks are all turned back into 10 year olds and booted, (by Aerith probably) to the Pokémon world and have to survive as Pokémon trainers. The problem? They were all separated and no one has any way to contact eachother.

(Inspired by Viincentsvalentines pokemon/ff7 post. I adore Cloud having a overprotective and murderous Shinx as a starter pokemon. I also love AC Cloud with a Luxray)

(I have a set of rules I use for the pokemon AUs if you're interested)

3. Cloud is ace/aro and is just working on Fenrir, blissfully oblivious to everyone fighting over him just inside the bar.

Those who aren't fighting are fueling the fire and making the situation worse.

In short, Reno starts a shipping war with an actual war.

There is no mercy.

Featuring: people trying to flirt with Cloud only to be full-body tacked away mid conversion, Cloud shrugging everything off, Rufus being a manipulate weasel, and Cloud choosing to "Date" his motorcycle just to get people off his back. No one is respecting Clouds boundaries or sexual orientation.

4. Cloud gets thrown back in time but loses his memory. He has no idea who he is or how he got to this snowfield, luckily this energetic, spikey haired man befriends him and is dead set on showing him off to Angeal.

Genesis had to do a double take, the blond wasn't just well armed. He was practically prepared for war. A massive overly intricate sword was the mans back, his gaze was unwavering, even when faced with the three most powerful men in the world. The redhead barely had to glance at him to tell that all the materia on him was at max level, even the supports.

"Well, my dear friend," he began, turning to Angeal, "it seems your puppy has brought home a wolf."

5. Sephiroth appears to Cloud in his apartment, intending to torment him again. Cloud doesn't seem to acknowledge him, no matter what he says or does. He even grabbed his puppet by the throat and pinned him against the wall.

Nothing. Cloud just closed his eyes and began counting backwards from thirty. The former general released him and Cloud went back to making his sandwich.

The silverette was thoroughly miffed at this point and stalked Cloud throughout his apartment as he sat down the plate of food down on his table next to a glass of water. The blond then darted into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a small orange pill bottle.

Intrigued, Sephiroth watched the blond down two pills before picking up the bottle.

He looked back at his blond, quietly assessing him as he ate his sandwich.

"So. You've been hallucinating."

6. Cloud bursts into a packed SOLDIER rec room disguised as a SOLDIER 2nd and yells, "Who knew about the cat?!" Then sprints across the room and breaks through the window, leading down to the streets below.

The room erupts into chaos.

Later Yuffie pays him 2000 gil

7. Sephiroth not understanding the symptoms of a crush while Genesis tries to teach him how to flirt.

Genesis is not having a good time.

8. Cloud and Sephiroth are trapped in a small enclosed space. So there they lay, pinned by debris, pressed against eachother, and making awkward conversation cause Cloud will be damned if he let's Sephiroth go on about the whole "Sailing the cosmos" thing again.

9. Vincent and Cloud secretly sing duets together when no one is around. Poor Barret winds up listening to them sing (and dance to) "Instruments of cyanide" (DA games version) and is thoroughly shook.

On the plus side, he now knows why Valentine always carries around those small Bluetooth speakers

10. Time traveling animal version of Cloud who reverts back into a human while being petted by Sephiroth.

"....I can explain."

11. Doll AU where Jenova creates an AC Cloud doll for Sephiroth, a CC Zack doll for Angeal, and a FF7 Aerith doll for Genesis. All of the dolls are life-sized and perfect copies of the originals. The three generals didn't know what to do with them at first. Sephiroth shoved his in a closet, Angeal sat his on the couch and poked fun at the real Zack, and Genesis layed his lovely maiden in a glass coffin filled with lillies, using her as a center piece in his home decor.

It starts with Sephiroth occasionally brushing his dolls blond hair, eventually coming to brush it every night. He became obsessed with caring for the doll, until one night, while he was laying in bed pretending to be asleep in an attempt to do the real thing, his doll came to brush his hair. He remained still while the doll lovingly groomed him. Even after the doll left, Sephiroth did not sleep.

The Zack doll...was another thing entirely. Angeals things would go missing on a regular basis. His laptop, his keys, his keycard. He couldn't tell you how many times he'd been locked out of his own apartment. The weirdest time, was just ofter he had comforted Zack, telling him that he cares about him more than any doll, no matter how lifelike it is.

Angeal had night terrors for a week strait and every pair of pants he owned disappeared on the day of a military presentation he was required to attend.

Genesis's doll has full on disappeared from her case, sometimes for days at a time. The redhead is always furious, convinced someone is stealing her. He sets up cameras, but they catch nothing. One moment the doll is there, then she's gone. He always felt like he was being laughed at when this happened, on the other hand, the flowers in the case mysteriously never wilted and new materia would appear around his house sporadically. Which was weird because he was always meticulously organized regarding his materia.

Aka Eldrich Doll au horror story slowburn.

12. Sephiroth realized his puppet was growing stronger at the same rate he was growing weaker

(Not related to no. 11 unless you want it to be)

13. Sephiroth shoving a ring onto Clouds finger and proudly declaring them married.

Cloud thinks he's gone completely off his rocker.

14. Sephiroth devolving into base animal instincts to court Cloud.

Example: giving him shiney rocks and materia, blankets, and basic food and hygene products, killing people the blond hates, complimenting him on both his looks and skills, and of course, preening himself to look the absolue best for his precious.

The best part is that it actually works

15. Vincent and Cloud cuddling in Vincents coffin. Cozy.

#sephiroth #puppet cloud #cloud strife #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #aerith gainsborough #ff7 story prompts #ff7 prompts #ff7 #final fantasy 7 story prompts #final fantasy 7 #vincent valentine #Eldrich #Doll Zack hates when Angeal leaves #he also gets jealous of human Zack #number 14: one of these things is not like the others

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years

Text

My Love

Chapter 8

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Book: TRH

A/N: Thanks @burnsoslow for the punctuation and grammar magic on the first half of this. The rest is all on me ... lol (Somehow, I got two college degrees with my shame). Also, @patriciaanchrist2019 , who has begged me for two weeks to get this posted ... here ya go :)

**This chapter is, by far, my most favorite thing I have ever written. I don't care if everyone hates it, thinks it weird or whatevs. It’s so different that I can’t get enough of it. After the next chapter, I have no idea where this thing is heading, but damn if I can't wait to find out.

___________________________________________________________

Liam clenched his fist so tightly, he felt the burning sting of blown veins and vessels that had earlier been penetrated by a needle forcing fluids into his hot blood. These same two hands that squeezed together in murderous rage were the same ones he had envisioned moments ago being wrapped around the exposed neck of his wife's recently discovered killer, gripped so firmly and securely, there would be no doubt that not one drop of air would enter or depart from her immoral lips. He needed to watch her fearful eyes beg him for the compassion and mercy she so callously cheated Riley of -- cheated him of. Instead, she had the audacity to stare back at him with an expression reminiscent of a blushing bride approaching her groom at the altar.

She looked at him with love and admiration.

He looked at her with hatred and scorn.

Somehow, amid this face-off, Liam would make damn sure those bright brown eyes that mysteriously beamed in the darkness of her chilly hospital room would soon witness the long-awaited wrath and vengeance he had waiting for her.

Riley had a million thoughts racing through her head all at once. The man she had loved and given her heart to in life was standing before her. His appearance was weak and frail; he wasn't the same muscular, strong, and cheerful man she remembered. Her heart sank further into her chest, wanting to hold him and make the hurt all disappear. Riley could only assume this change in Liam was a result of her death, and if he only knew that she was right there waiting for him to take her into his loving arms, it could change everything.

But how would she even begin to bring that up? Riley had never believed in such things, and Liam was far more realistic and pragmatic than even she.

For the moment, all she could do was play along.

Liam casually shut and locked the door to Riley's room before inching further inside. The moonlight cascaded a bluish glow through the window of the room as Liam ran a menacing hand over the hard plastic footing of her bed.

"Your Majesty." She spoke with a guttural whisper and bowed her head to him. "It's kind of you to come … although I am somewhat surprised you would visit me -- and at this late of an hour."

Liam stroked the scruff on his chin, never once taking his blazing eyes away from her. "I bet you are, Miss Talbert," he replied derisively.

Riley sensed the peculiar tone in his voice and demeanor; she wasn't sure what to make of it, never having seen him this way. She shifted curiously in her bed.

"Sir? Is there something --"

He raised his hand to stop her. "Never address me unless you are asked to. Are we clear?" The softness of her small, listless voice had no effect on him, nor did the gauze and bruises that blanketed her delicate skin.

"My apologies, sir. I … I was only trying --" she scrambled nervously, attempting to make sense of his bitter tone and attitude until he abruptly shouted an array of expletives and shoved her hospital tray across the room. Riley startled, and her eyes widened in panic as he whipped around to the side of her bed and placed his hands in the crook of her neck. "Liam! What are you doing?"

"You fucking bitch! Did you honestly think you could get away with it?"

"I don't understand! Away with what?" she wailed frightfully. Her tiny hands gripped both of his wrists in a desperate struggle to loosen his hold while her feet burrowed desperately into the mattress. This was not her kind, gentle Liam; this man's venomous glare could have pierced daggers straight through her.

"Don't you dare give me that bullshit! They found the cyanide. They know about your fake name … Victoria! Your relation to Amalas! We know it was you who killed Riley! I just don't know why … so I will give you exactly 30 seconds to spill your guts or so help me, I will do it for you!"

Riley's shaky hands left Liam's wrist and stretched over her gaping mouth. "It was … Amanda?" she muttered through shock and growing nausea that spontaneously transformed into her own personal anger and betrayal. There was literally no time to dwell on it or even think it through because Liam was mere seconds away from killing her. She knew how much he loved her. She knew he had every intention of doing so.

"You have 30 seconds, Amanda, to tell me why … why you took her away from our baby and me…" Liam's tone grew more somber, and his jaw began to quake. "She was … the best wife … the best mother … my best friend and queen … my love … and you … you took all of that away, and I just want … no … I need to know … why?"

Tears flowed heavily down Riley's cheeks at his poignant words, but the hurt and pain this woman had caused him were so tremendous and profound that she was appalled by it all.

And she was the cause of it.

"ANSWER ME! WHY?"

Her breathing was strained as she struggled for a response that would not only satisfy him but also keep her alive.

She decided to take a gamble.

"I know this is going to sound crazy --"

"I don't want crazy; I want the truth!" he snapped back.

Riley's glistening eyes gazed deeply into his harsh ones as she steadied her breaths. "Liam, I'm asking you to listen carefully to what I am about to tell you. If you will give me a chance, I can prove everything to you … I think."

Liam furrowed his brow; there was something oddly familiar about the way she spoke and looked at him. "I already have proof. There is nothing more you could possibly prove to me that will prevent you from your fate."

"I know you. I know your hopes … your dreams … your fears. Do you remember being on the balcony at Valtoria during the Lantern Lighting Festival? You asked what part of yourself you should let go of before you released it into the sky. You released your fears about being a good ruler. You questioned it so frequently that … it just made sense."

"How the hell did you know that? Did my wife tell you?"

Riley smiled affectionately. "I assure you … your wife would never betray your confidence like that."

Liam released his hands from her neck, more so out of curiosity over this new game he felt she was playing than thinking there was something more to her words. He glared at her with intrigue and crossed his arms. "What are you doing?"

"You have a tiny scar on your left elbow that you got from Leo when you were six years old. He pushed you into an armchair after you told your dad he swiped a questionable magazine from the former Duke of Karlington's chambers. You never told your wife about that."

Liam faked an amused laugh while he clapped his hands deliberately and with emphasis. "Thank you for taking me down this little road of memories. Did you wish to continue telling me private things about myself, or did you want to tell me what I ate for dinner the night before I married Riley?" he asked with a sardonic tone.

"You snuck into my room at the palace after the rehearsal dinner, and we had pasta with tomato sauce, just as we did during our first date at the Beaumonts' when you told me your greatest dream was to one day have a family."

"Shut up!"

"Liam … I know what Amanda did, but I need you to look past that right now and see who I really am."

"I said, shut the fuck up! You are not her! This is all just some terribly-planned scheme to play on my emotions, and it's not going to work."

"You hated the annual Regatta because the boat you and Drake snuck out onto when you were kids collapsed and you nearly drowned. Applewood was the only place you ever felt normal as a kid. You chucked a blackened salade Nicoise into a vase in Paris --"

"I'm warning you! Stop!"

"-- The combination to the wall safe in our bedroom is your mother's birth date backward, and the passcode to the arsenal is 20 numbers long, and only three people know it, but I can recite them for you right now if you wish … "

Liam stood silent and expressionless, but inside, his heart was thundering out of his chest, his mind cluttered with so many questions, he couldn't make sense of any of it. There is no way she can know all of this stuff.

Riley, however, knew that stoic expression all too well; it was the look he had when he was nervous and deliberating deeply in his thoughts. If she ever had the chance to at least have him seriously consider what she was trying to tell him, it was now.

"I know it's crazy … I know … but please look at me, and you will know. Amanda died in that park, Liam. I heard you this morning in our bedroom, begging me to come back to you before you collapsed, and I know it sounds completely and utterly ridiculous, but it's me, Liam! It's me … Riley."

__________________

Liam was discharged the following morning but couldn't get the words Amanda had thrown at him late last night out of his mind. As he rode in the limo back to the palace, he fumbled with the hospital bracelet that was still taped around his wrist and gazed thoughtfully out the window. He wanted to believe, yet at the same time, he didn't. Believing meant getting hurt by something so outrageous and unbelievable that he couldn't allow himself to go there.

After she made her final declaration stating she was Riley, he destroyed her room in a fit of rage, and guards had to break through her door to stop the destruction. Liam heard her terrified cries and pleas for him to stop before he hurt himself, but nothing could have upset him more than this woman trying to pass herself off as his late wife.

He couldn't help but wonder how she knew all of those things. Maybe Riley mentioned them to her during their short time working together; however, his wife would never tell this woman -- or anyone else for that matter -- their closely guarded secrets. Liam twisted his arm and glanced down at the tiny scar he had long forgotten on his elbow. He rubbed a finger gingerly over the nearly invisible mark, knowing he had never mentioned it to Riley. He didn't recall Leo sharing it with her during their brief encounters together, either.

She knew he collapsed yesterday while calling out for his wife. Amanda was found beaten in the park around that same time.

The only thing Liam knew for sure at this moment was that one of the questions that had haunted him for weeks had finally been answered: Amanda murdered his wife.

Liam walked through the door of his quarters and was immediately met with the sound of his daughter's hearty cackles and what he believed to be Maxwell blowing raspberries on her tummy. He rounded the corner and entered the living room suite, where he saw Maxwell holding Ellie in front of his face, tickling her belly with his nose. Drake was seated on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table watching X-treme Cordonian Monster Trucks and absentmindedly twirling Ellie's pacifier on one of his fingers.

Liam chuckled to himself. "It appears I'm missing one hell of a party."

Both Maxwell and Drake perked up at the sight of their friend looking at least somewhat healthier than he did yesterday and greeted him.

Liam lifted Ellie from Maxwell's grasp and sat on the sofa to snuggle her into his neck. Nothing felt better than holding her so tightly, smelling the scent of her lavender baby lotion, and hearing her excitement over being held and talked to by her daddy. He sat her down on his lap to face him and reached one hand around her back for support while he fussed over her.

Drake and Maxwell were surprised by his calm demeanor; they both knew Amanda had been named the killer. That was the only thing they knew. They gave Liam time to play with his daughter, knowing how much the two of them had missed one another. Ellie had become a daddy's girl in every sense of the word, and Liam didn't mind one bit spoiling the brightest spot in his life. She watched his face intently as he made silly faces at her, which in turn caused her to let out a quick giggle and for her chubby arms to flap wildly. Liam couldn't help but notice her eyes had that same familiar gleam he saw in Amanda's last night. Please look at me, and you will know.

Drake noticed the change in Liam's crestfallen face and cleared his throat. "What's wrong, Li?"

"Yeah, I noticed it too, Drake. Baby E always makes you happier, so what's up?" Maxwell asked as he passed Liam a fresh bottle.

Liam was reluctant to share what happened last night with anyone, but at the same time, it was all he could think about, and he really wanted the advice of his closest friends. With a deep breath, Liam told them about dropping by Amanda's room at the hospital. Both guys questioned why he would do that to himself after everything he had gone through yesterday -- and then finding out she was the one who took Riley's life.

Liam leaned back into the cushions of the sofa; Ellie was still feeding on the bottle he held for her. "I just … I needed to know why. I wanted to find out who she was working for."

"Did she tell you anything?" Drake asked.

Liam scoffed and nodded. "You could say that. She claimed she was … Riley."

Maxwell scurried over to Liam and placed his hands gently on Ellie's tiny ears, knowing what was about to be said.

"What the fuck?!" Drake remarked and clenched his fist. "I'll kill her myself."

Maxwell lifted his hands from Ellie's ears and scratched the edge of his brow. "She claimed she was Riley? What … I mean, why? Is it from her head injury?"

"Maybe … I don't know." Liam stood with Ellie still in his arms and walked to the fireplace. He glanced up at the picture of him and Riley that had been taken on their first trip to the Eiffel Tower during the Engagement Tour. "She knew things about our life … very personal, private things that no one else knew."

"Riley must have told her. Or, you were spied on." Drake countered.

Liam continued to study the picture, more specifically, Riley's flashing smile and sparkling eyes in it. He turned to face Drake and Maxwell with a thoughtful expression. "Let me ask you something, guys. Did Riley ever tell you what I wished for during the Lantern Festival, or … hell, even the combination to our safe?"

Both men were surprised by the oddity of his questions but answered together with a resounding no.

"If Riley didn't tell her closest friends … why would she share that information with a woman she barely knew?"

"Then you were spied on," Drake retorted.

Liam reflected for a moment, then twisted back around to study her face in the photo again. "She knew things that were said only to Riley in so many different places and different occasions throughout our relationship that there is no way it could have been incidents of spying. They were little, insignificant things ..." He closed his eyes and felt the first trickle of a tear roll down his cheek. "It just felt ... so real."

Visibly shaken, and noticing Ellie's eyes beginning to roll with heaviness, Liam insisted he was fine, excusing himself to put Ellie down for her nap and get himself cleaned up.

Drake reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his car keys before he eyed Maxwell. "What do you say about paying our little friend a visit?"

___________________

That morning, Riley was visited by another trauma counselor who wanted to discuss her feelings about the previous day's assault. Everyone, including Liam, wanted answers from her that she didn't have, and, most likely, never would. While sifting through a tray of cold scrambled eggs, she mulled over the betrayal by someone she thought of as a friend, and how it had so profoundly affected her husband. Riley was in an impossible position that she had no clue how to get out of. If last night was any indication, she was a trigger for Liam. Enemy number one. If she were to somehow get him to believe her, how would she face the onslaught of backlash from a country that was sure to want her punished severely for the murder of their queen?

For every question lobbed at her, Riley had her own.

Riley took a sip of her water. Over the small, plastic cup, she caught a glimpse of two familiar faces whose scowls implied they were no longer friendly. She placed her cup on the stand beside her and tucked a strand of her now golden-brown hair behind her ear. As she watched a timid Maxwell lean up against the wall closest to the door, Drake moved in closer to her with a look that suggested he was not there to catch up on old times.

She glanced between the two men who were like her brothers and plastered on a nervous smile. "Drake … Maxwell," she acknowledged.

Drake lowered himself into an exaggerated bow before rising again to his fullest posture. "Your Majesty … that is who you are, right? Or have you decided you're someone else now? Perhaps you can be my late dad or Maxwell's mother. Whatever gets you the most sympathy from someone -- am I right … Amanda?"

Riley closed her eyes, concern clouded on her features, and she turned her head away from him. "How is he, Drake?"

Drake scratched his neck and replied sarcastically, "Oh, he's just peachy. Got a lot to do, you know, with planning your execution and all."

Riley's hand shot to her mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape. She didn't want to piss him off anymore than he already was, yet at the same time, she really did. "Since when did you start saying 'peachy,' Walker? 'Oh, he's just peachy,'" she mocked jokingly in his husky voice. "God, Drake … I love you sometimes, you big marshmallow."

Maxwell let out an uproarious guffaw and clutched his stomach. "You are a big marshmallow, Drake!"

Drake glared back at him. "Maxwell!" he shouted. "Who the fuck's side are you on?"

"Don't listen to him, Max," Riley goaded while she casually smoothed out the wrinkles in the blanket that covered her. "He knows you'd take a bullet for him." Realizing what she just said, Riley, cut her eyes to Drake and chortled. "I know, Drake. You actually did."

Drake furrowed his brows and felt a twinge in his shoulder. "Everyone knows that. It's public knowledge. Gonna have to try a little harder there, lady. Next thing you know you'll be telling me I drink whiskey."

Riley smirked. "Try a little hard, huh?" She perched her lips and nodded, not sure if she really wanted to bring the subject up after so long, but it was her best shot. "I can tell you something that no one knows about except you … and I."

Drake crossed his arms. "Try me."

"Tell me, Drake … what did you say to me after Tariq left my room at Applewood?"

Drake scoffed. "I didn't tell you, shit."

Riley tapped her chin playfully. "Hmm, I think you did. And again in the Beaumont Ballroom when we were arranging the flowers in preparations to host the court."

Drake remained silent, but Maxwell's ears perked up. "What'd you say, Drake?"

Riley raised her brows and motioned for him to answer.

Drake rolled a doctor's stool out and squatted down on it and dragged his feet closer to her. "Listen here! You are not, Riley Brooks. You are just some con-woman who somehow managed to weasel her way into working for her before you murdered her. Now … you're just some has-been, who is about to be blown out of existence. You're going to leave Liam alone, Amanda. He's been through enough already."

"You said, and I quote ... 'The way you look at me sometimes, Brooks, if we're alone together, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop myself from doing something stupid.'"

Maxwell's jaw dropped, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Drake?"

Riley snickered when she noticed the red hot glow on Drake's neck, spread into his face. "My, my, Walker! I thought Olivia was the only one who could get your face that red."

Drake started to say something, then stopped himself. So many thoughts and feelings hit him all at once, and he didn't know what to make of them. What she was trying to assert was impossible, not to mention, absolutely insane. Drake felt like he was having a conversation with Riley. She had the same mannerisms, the same pattern of speech, the same way of annoying him, yet carried no resemblance to her. He stood from the stool and walked out of her room.

Maxwell stared at the closed door that Drake had just exited. He placed one hand on the door handle and let it linger there for a moment before he pulled it open. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. "I found something on the streets in Paris once. It was during the Engagement Tour, and something I really wanted but gave it to Riley instead. We were on the train …'

"...and Bertrand said, no. It was Chance, Maxwell … it was, Chance,"

With his hand still gripped loosely to the door, he turned slightly more to face her with a smile. "Maybe that's what I'm giving you again," Maxwell replied with a wink before he left.

____________

It had been one week exactly since Riley was admitted to the hospital. One week since she came back to this realm of life and found herself in a predicament she hadn't anticipated. Each day, she was questioned by the King's Guards relentlessly, in regards to the poisoning, and each day she continued to tell them she honestly didn't know what happened that night.

No one had visited, not even Maxwell, who she thought might stop in. Riley knew she had planted the seeds in Liam, Drake and Maxwell's mind, but wasn't sure if she was doing more harm than good. If Amanda was indeed the one who took her life, then she was confident that no amount of evidence she could provide would lift the need for revenge, Liam so desperately craved.

After seven days in the hospital, Riley was released into the custody of the Crown and placed in a cell.

Liam wanted a quick trial, and to end her charade rather quickly. He had spent several sleepless nights contemplating her words, as well as, the one's Drake and Maxwell shared with him during their visit with her. Maxwell was somewhat open to the concept of Riley somehow being present in the body of this woman, while Drake claimed he just didn't know. Neither one of them pressed the issue too hard, both stating it was something he had to figure out on his own. If she was telling the truth, and he doubted highly that she was, he felt as if he would know.

He didn't.

Liam sat in his office, glancing studiously over transcripts of the guard's conversations with Amanda the past several days. Every single discussion was nothing but her telling them she didn't know anything. He had grown tired of what appeared to be her failure to cooperate with this investigation. What struck him the most was her lack of ability to provide them with answers that had nothing to do with her case. Something as simple as her birthdate couldn't be provided, and she didn't even have a response to why she was in the park during her own attack. Doctors assured him the blow to her head was not damaging enough to cause memory loss, but perhaps the emotional trauma was enough for her to want those memories repressed.

Liam's cell pinged, and he read the message from Bastien stating that Amanda had just been placed in one of the palace cells. After directing Bastien to meet him in the interrogation room with her, he gathered the transcripts and put them in a manila folder to take with him.

Riley sat at a small table with Bastien sitting opposite of her. One-by-one, he went over the evidence they had accumulated against Amanda; it wasn't much, but enough to strongly suggest she was the one who poisoned Riley.

Liam stood in the corner of the room, his arms folded in front of him, listening to her give the same canned non-answers she had been spewing since the beginning. She didn't admit or acknowledge her part in the murder, but astoundingly, did not deny it either. He paced across the floor behind Bastien, listening intently to every word she said, hoping for a hint or clue that could be used against her. The room became cold, and an electrifying chill spread throughout his body as he felt her eyes following his every movement. He paused for a moment to collect himself and quell the burning ache that for a reason he couldn't explain, awakened in his stomach.

Liam placed his hands on the table between Riley and Bastien and leaned onto them. Beads of sweat collected around his brows, and the pounding in his chest could be heard by everyone in that room. He asked his head guard to stop his questioning and looked directly at the lustrous face of the woman who sat before him. His voice shook lowly as he glowered at her. "You are not my wife."

"Liam." Riley raised her hand to touch his face, but he grabbed her wrist before she made contact.

"I am the King of Cordonia, and you will address me as such!"

She quickly rose to her feet with her wrist still gripped tightly by his grasp. "Look at me, Liam! You know who I am … I can see it on your face!"

Liam clenched his teeth and shirked her arm away from him. "You're right, I know exactly who you are! You're the woman who took my whole world away from me!"

Riley shook her head and waved an arm up and down the length of her body. "Yes! This is the body of the woman who took that away from you, but she's gone, Liam. She's gone!" Riley swallowed hard and tried to steady her nerves. "I heard every word you spoke to me! The blame and anger over leaving you alone. The lingering questions of how I was doing, if I was with your mother, how you would tell Ellie about me … I heard every damn word you whispered to me every single day and I fought like hell to come back to you … to our daughter! I'm here, Liam!"

"Goddamn, you!!" Liam turned and jerked Bastien's gun from his side holster and placed the tip of its sharp barrel against Riley's temple. "Bastien! Get the fuck out of here now!"

Riley froze where she stood while Bastien questioned frantically, what his boss was doing.

"I said, get out!" he seethed.

Bastien feared more for Liam's mental state than he did for what he assumed was about to be the execution of the woman who killed his Queen. The King was teetering on the edge again, and he questioned to himself whether Liam was thinking this method of justice through. At that moment, he had received his orders and exited with great hesitation.

Liam shot a look to Riley, his breathing was erratic, and his hands trembled. "I want your confession now!"

Riley didn't know for certain whether Amanda was guilty; she more than likely was, but seeing Liam like this was more than she could bear. If killing her right now brought him closure … gave him the chance to move on … took just a tiny amount of his pain away, then she would give him what he wanted.

"I just want you to be happy. It's all I ever wanted. And I can't tell you whether or not Amanda did this, but … I will confess on her behalf anyway."

Liam flipped the safety from the gun and affixed his finger firmly on the trigger. "Any last words?"

Riley clasped her hands over her stomach and put on a brave face. Her teary eyes looked at him resolutely and peace he hadn't expected. This woman was prepared to sacrifice herself for him, and it was quite obvious, she was perfectly content to do so. She smiled softly with a sincere flash of faith and love in her eyes. "I love you, my King. I always have …'

Liam's eyes swelled with a flood of tears as the gun dropped to his side.

"And I always will, my love ... Riley?"

#liam x mc #liam x riley #trh #the royal heir #My Love #bbrandy2002

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somuch-4-stardust · 3 years

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ohhhh my god i was wondering who you were and when you followed me/i followed you and then i finally got enough braincells working to click ur damn blog lmao and then i was like "OHHHHH CYANIDE THAT'S WHERE YOU WENT" anywho excuse my dumb brain wassup friend

adfkj;lkajsdf;flasdkfja;sdlkfj;lkasjdf;laksdf whaaaaaat how could you pooooossibly not know it was me all i did was change my title and description and url and pfp and intro post lol /j /s /lh /nm (wow that’s a lot of tone tags lmao-)

anyways I have not a clue when this was sent because my asks are a bit messed up but hi!!!! how are you???

#cyanide answers #genesiscavat!!!

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cosmic-idiocy · 4 years

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the hunger ‘gades

haha get it? like reneGADES? Games? ok I’ll stop.

We start with our cast:

I put the sentinel, adrian, nova, and nightmare as different people for humor purposes. If one “dies” and the other is alive it means they faked their death ;)

(I included paper crane guy bc I ran out of ideas haha)

oooh yikes Danna is already out. Phobia is being violent as usual though which makes sense. tbh that’s very callum of callum. Also Honey already grabbing the alcohol? love it.

Hugh and Ace teaming up? Wow this really is anarchy huh ;) NOO Ruby you almost got him!! Points for effort though. lol. Cyanide using poison. Also- Adrian already faking his own death I’m losing it over the “nightmare attacks callum” thing bc that’s CANON

RIP Day 1 and sketch’s team is already half gone. ;;

when I say I LOST IT^ also I’m all for Nova and Narcissa teaming up. and WHO WOULD SPONSOR FROSTBITE??

NOOOO MAX Is Nova depressed bc Adrian is dead? Only time will tell

YALL NIGHTMARE KILLED INGRID AGAIN This is getting way too close to canon. Is this where MM gets her ideas??

Damn Ace. also STOP SPONSORING FROSTBITE JEEZ. also adrian is officially dead ;n; killed by his own creation

Cold Nightmare, but I can’t say I’m not impressed. Poisoned by her own stupidly donated food. also ace and evander... well I can’t say they don’t deserve eachother

ok this post is getting really long so nothing really interesting happened day 4 except for this b/c of that rosa diaz quote from b99

OOOOH SHOOT EVANDER WTH RUBY SHOULD’VE POISONED YOU also Magpie noooo I guess Nova is dead dead ;;

daaang the anarchist crew is really somehow sticking around but,,, at least we got evander!!

uh,,, yikes

nooo Narcissa!! goodbye queen And with that, our final standoff...

Brutal, but probably merited. congrats Oscar! All your friends are dead! :,)

#renegades #renegades crack #hunger games simulator #nova nightmare #adrian everhart

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humanmoodring-retired · 4 years

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@whatsin-yourhead replied to your post “[pm] [d: Where did you go?] Are you okay? Did you get sick, too?”

[pm] I'm okay now. It-- it was kinda um, rough but my friend got it out of me. Whatever...whatever it was. But I didn't eat anything at Pat's, and...I'm glad you're okay, though. I didn't see you drink anything? What happened?

[pm] Well, damn. Good for you, though, getting to unlive or whatever to see another day. Some people get all the luck. I’m glad your friend was about to help you. Yeah, when you went to the bar, I didn’t know if you were getting something alcoholic or not, so I figured I should drink some water, just in case. It turns out that just about everything was laced with cyanide. Totally a good time. Almost as fun as falling out a window.

#whatsin-yourhead #c: remmy #not!nadia #food poisoning tw #mass poisoning tw

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michelles-garden-of-evil · 3 years

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Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise, Part I: The Top 5 Best Things

SPOILERS FOR LATE MALJARDIN AND BOTH DESMOND HALL ARCS

Hello and welcome again to my Garden of Evil, where this week I’m doing something a little different. Episode 44 having marked the departure of co-creator and original headwriter Ian Martin, we have officially reached the end of an era of Strange Paradise history. No longer will discussions and speculation on Martin’s authorial intent be relevant to the happenings on this show (although I will continue to give my thoughts on the Lost Episode summaries), now that Bob Costello is running the show with a different authorial intent.

Ian Martin’s episodes contrast with the second half of Maljardin in many ways. The pace is slower, the structure and characterizations more like those of a standard soap, and the tone at times borders on comedy. He also appears to have put more thought into the characters’ backstories than any of the other writers, much of which he never got the chance to show on screen. Moreover, of all the show’s writers, he seems to have put the most of his own heart and soul into it, if the death of his first wife six years earlier and his reuse of elements from the series in his later works are any indication.

That brings me to my plans for this week in my Garden of Evil. Before moving on to review Episode 45, I will post my final thoughts on his episodes, first listing what I consider the top five best things about his period headwriting the show. Next, I will make another of the top five worst things about the first 8.8 weeks of Maljardin (because no creative work is perfect). So without further ado, here are (in my not-so-humble opinion) the top five best things about Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise:

5. Clever, memorable dialogue and (sometimes) clever wordplay

I say “sometimes,” because (as we all know) Jacques loves his puns and Devil jokes, which tend to be as cornball as they come. The (intentional) humor in Ian Martin’s dialogue tends to be hit or miss, but when it hits, it hits harder than the chandelier hit the séance table. Even when the jokes miss, it’s clear that he tried hard to make the show both funny and scary, and some of the worse ones still amuse me in a dad-joke sort of way.

Some jokes from SP that I find genuinely funny:

Jacques: “‘Prisoners’ is such a harsh word, Alison. Now, actually, I prefer the [terminology] ‘detained guests.’“ (Episode 14)

Alison: “I find you and everything you’ve done distasteful and revolting." Jacques: "Methinks the lady doth detest too much." (same)

"I wish my mother was on canvas instead of always on my back.” (Holly, Episode 18)

Dan: "Knowing how much you loved Erica, I can appreciate your display of courage." Jacques: "It was either that or letting myself go to the Devil!" (same)

Jacques: “Such a delightful bedside manner. Why not let her operate?” (Episode 21)

Jacques: “If your room is a prison cell and you are a prisoner, well, I invite you to your last hearty meal.” (same)

Holly: "Would you like to see my scars?" Jacques: "Well, lead us not into temptation...now, that isn't from Shakespeare, is it?" (Episode 25)

Elizabeth: “It seems to be your opportunity to entertain, Reverend. May I suggest Song of Solomon?” (Episode 40)

Also, some things that aren’t jokes per se, but still clever wordplay:

Matt’s name, a reference to the Tarot card The Fool, or Le Mat in French.

Jacques: "Well, Dan, are you going to join me in some kippers this morning, or haven't you finished fishing for the day?" Dan: "Just lowering the line, and I'm afraid you're going to get hooked." (Episode 26)

The whole kippers thing from the same episode.

The scene transition lines.

Two things that Curt pointed out to me a while back: the recurring “little bird” motif and the fact that Jacques, who was “shackled to the Temple” for three centuries was also shackled through the temples with the silver pin. (Thanks!)

Of the later writers, Cornelius Crane (who will write the last two weeks of Maljardin and most of Desmond Hall Arc I) will be the only other to consistently use humor in his SP scripts. His will be a different style of humor, lighter on wordplay and heavier on wit, satire, and snark between characters, in many ways reminiscent of my favorite Dark Shadows writer Violet Welles. While the style of humor in Crane’s episodes has generally aged better, I can’t deny the cleverness and charm in the lines quoted above.

4. A more complex story than later arcs

Compared to all other arcs of the show, early Maljardin has, by far, the most subplots. You have (1) the main plot that revolves around Jean Paul’s attempts to preserve and resurrect Erica, which leads to his desperate attempts to protect the cryonics capsule, Jacques’ freedom and repeated possessions, and Raxl and Quito’s search for the conjure doll and silver pin. Directly connected to this are (2) Jacques’ murder of Dr. Menkin, (3) Alison and Dan’s search for the true cause of Erica’s death and for Dr. Menkin’s missing notes, and (4) the love triangle/square between Dan, Alison, and Jean Paul/Jacques. Then you have the four interconnected plots directly involving Holly, including (5) her romantic pursuit by Matt, Tim, Jacques, and Quito; (6) her conflicts with Elizabeth including direct competition over Jean Paul/Jacques; (7) her torment by Erica’s spirit; and (8) Tim’s subplot about the damned Holly portrait. Then there are (9) the saga of the missing cyanide and (10) the guests’ resistance to Jean Paul’s imprisonment of them on the island. In addition to these, we have (11) the history of Jacques, which may have included innumerable subplots of its own had Ian Martin been allowed to explore it thoroughly. We know that Jacques’ pursuit of Alison and Elizabeth would have connected to this, given their previous incarnations as Rahua and Tarasca, and that Martin originally planned for Tarasca to have her own storyline. If we include the aborted arc about Elizabeth’s possession by Tarasca, that would have made a whopping twelve subplots(!), unless I’m forgetting about something.

For comparison, here are the major subplots from Desmond Hall, during the period when Cornelius Crane did most of the writing: (1) Jean Paul’s possession by the Mark of Death; (2) the coven’s schemes to undermine the Desmond family, which led to the disappearance of Philip Desmond; (3) the Evil Serpent plotline; (4) the Hamlet subplot involving Cort’s conflicts with his mother and dear stepfather; (5) the love triangle of Cort, Holly, and Philip’s ghost; (6) the second love triangle of Ada, Laslo, and Irene; (7) all of Jean Paul’s romantic entanglements; and (8) the attempted possession of his fiancée Helena by Erica. That’s still a lot of intersecting plots, but not quite as many as in early Maljardin.

I know I’ve complained in the past about the recap that makes up about half the dialogue in early Maljardin, but the sheer number of plots may have required it to ensure that returning viewers remembered everything and new viewers weren’t completely lost. I don’t have to like the constant recap, but I must admit that it was probably necessary even for the fans who managed to catch every episode during its original run.

3. Stronger characterizations than under the writers of late Maljardin

Like a traditional soap opera, the first half of the Maljardin arc is character-driven. Most important plot points occur on Mondays and Fridays, leaving the mid-week episodes for (mostly) minor plot points, subplots, and character development. We see Alison’s relationship with Jean Paul evolve from friendly in-laws to potential lovers, only for her to tire of his constant mood changes and withdraw from him. We see Reverend Matt Dawson’s crisis of faith, from his stalking Holly out of an allegedly spiritual love to his questioning his disbelief in demons while trapped on Maljardin. We see Dan lose all respect for Jean Paul as he becomes convinced that his employer murdered Erica and Dr. Menkin. We also see Jean Paul grow increasingly volatile even when Jacques isn’t possessing him, making his prisoners try harder to escape and creating a vicious cycle of repression and paranoia on the island.

After Robert Costello becomes producer, the arc shifts to a more plot-driven narrative. In a span of just four weeks, Erica will be resurrected and proceed to murder most of the characters. Character development will lose its importance in late Maljardin, and the characters of Elizabeth and Holly (and later Jean Paul) will become almost unrecognizable. Although Cornelius Crane was a competent writer who gave strong characterizations to the characters he created, he makes it clear that he didn’t care much for Martin’s creations through how quickly he kills off most of them and alters the personalities of two of the ones left.

2. Actual research

This one is most noticeable in two areas: the scientific subjects discussed and the way that Martin uses the Tarot. Before writing for SP, he worked on The Doctors and The Nurses, both early medical dramas with soap opera elements. Little survives from either The Nurses or the 1960s era of The Doctors[1], but one can imagine that he got into the habit of researching medical topics then--perhaps not including subjects as far-out as cryonics, but maybe some of the others discussed on SP like cellular reconstruction, organ transplants, and eclampsia. Here on SP, he’s referenced specific scientific studies, including Miroslava Pavlović’s study of brain transplants in quail embryos, Kenneth B. Wolfe’s “Effects of Hypothermia on Cerebral Damage Resulting from Cardiac Arrest,” and--most fascinating of all--W. Grey Walter’s robotics article “An Imitation of Life,” whose potential significance to Erica’s backstory I discussed in the final part of my Shadow Over Seventh Heaven review series.

His penchant for research becomes even more obvious when we explore his use of the Tarot and compare it to the way the cards were used on the show’s inspiration Dark Shadows. Despite also having done research on various occult matters--the most obscure being the use of I Ching wands for time travel[2]--DS’s writers were notably lazy in their use of Tarot symbolism, sticking mostly to the Major Arcana, often interpreting their names literally, and using the Tower of Destruction so often that one would think that copies of the Tower comprised half the deck. Not so on SP. Although he did have tarot reader Vangie Abbott use Death literally in Episode 7, and he does portray the Nine of Swords as “the card of death” when it typically means nightmares, suffering because of loss, and inner torment, his use of the Tarot typically shows careful research into the meanings of mostly cards from the Minor Arcana (the suits of wands, cups, swords, and pentacles). He uses it both as a means of giving character profiles and for foreshadowing, although the cards often foreshadow planned events that never took place because of script rewrites.

He did, however, take some artistic liberties with other subjects that he must have researched while writing the serial. I mean to write a detailed analysis someday comparing and contrasting the show’s portrayal of vodou with the reality, but I’m not satisfied with the scanty amount of research that I’ve done so far. I have already written about the Great Serpent and how Raxl appears to syncretize the loa Damballah with the Aztec feathered serpent Quetzalcoatl, but there are other related subjects I want to discuss someday in other posts. The short version: the “voodoo” portrayed on the show is a mixture of elements of genuine Afro-Caribbean religions (worship of a Serpent God, belief in zombies, use of drums in rituals, the titles “Conjure Man” and “Conjure Woman”) and traditional Mesoamerican religious practices (Quetzalcoatl, Aztec human sacrifice, Raxl’s mention of curanderos). The evidence suggests that he picked and chose elements from these traditions for Maljardin’s “Conjure Faith” in a way reminiscent of the real-life phenomenon of religious syncretism. While somewhat problematic, the obscurity of some of the things he picked and chose shows that he must have conducted some research even on these subjects.

1. The best Jacques

Jean Paul Desmond may be the protagonist, but, in the first seven weeks of the show, it’s his devilish ancestor Jacques who truly steals the show. From his evil laugh to his snarky commentary on the happenings on Maljardin to the hilarious and adorable expressions he makes as he plays with his detained guests, there’s no denying that Jacques is the star of Martin’s SP. When he’s absent, the whole show suffers from a lack of his mischief, not to mention that smile that stirs up desires in me that can never be righteously fulfilled. If there’s a Devil, I bet he resembles THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES in looks, voice, and demeanor--the better to seduce you with (and by you, I mean me). Horns and a pointy tail, after all, don’t tempt half as well as a beautiful black cape and Bissits Face™.

The Jacques of late Maljardin will be a far flatter character, more outwardly evil but less charming and consequently less entertaining. In Desmond Hall, his role will be reduced significantly and he will have very little dialogue, mostly just the same clip of his laughter repeated. He will have a few fun scenes in the second Desmond Hall arc, but the post-Martin Jacques is no devil, just an ordinary man with a slightly different personality, led over to the dark side. This is understandable--the thought of the supernatural embodiment of evil remaining imprisoned for three centuries is quite far-fetched, and Desmond Hall Arc II writer Harding Lemay wasn’t fond of all-evil characters[3]--but I still find the original Jacquet the most fun by far.

That concludes this post on my favorite things about Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise. Stay tuned for my list of some things about his writing that needed improvement.

{ Next: The Top 5 Worst Things -> }

Notes

[1] The Thousand Oaks Library in Thousand Oaks, California has ten of Martin’s scripts from The Doctors from shortly after the series switched from its original experimental anthology format to a traditional continuing soap.

[2] The portrayal of the I Ching as a means of time travel on Dark Shadows almost certainly came from William Seabrook’s book Witchcraft: Its Power in the World Today, where he describes the 49th ko hexagram’s use in a form of past-life regression in New York magick circles in the early 20th century. See Seabrook, “Werewolf in Washington Square,” Witchcraft (New York: Ishi Press, 2015), pp. 164-175.

[3] Harding Lemay, Eight Years in Another World, chap. 3, Kindle edition. In this chapter, Lemay discusses his conflicts with Irna Phillips, the creator of Another World, over how to portray soap opera characters. According to him, Phillips believed that characters should be depicted as either “Saints” or “Sinners,” the only permitted nuance being that female Sinners had to love their children if they had any. Lemay disagreed with such black-and-white characterizations, finding them unrealistic, and made the serial’s characters more morally gray.

#strange paradise #ian martin #maljardin arc #review #analysis #arc review #list

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

Text

Helluva Boss Pilot: Gender Reverse

Not too far away from Pentagram City lay a shady place in the bowels of Hell. “Welcome to Imp City: est. 1981” was posted on a worn wooden sign with a white painted eye toward the top. Under a crimson sky, a wide array of buildings made up the city, some with spikes on the roofs. Downtrodden imps of various colors and sizes mulled around the streets and ghettos. Mugging, sex, drugs, poverty, and murder were common aspects of their everyday afterlives. Indeed, being considered “lesser demons” and the “lowest of the low,” not very many had opportunities granted to them.

Well, save for a unique family of imps, trying to get their business running.

Just who were these imps?

A nearby screen showed old fashioned numbers ticking down, 3, 2, and 1 against red.

Elektriza, a red and white faced imp appeared on stage in front of purple curtains. Elektriza smiled in front of the camera with a row of sharp yellow teeth, her eyes yellow with orange irises and black pupils. The left side of her face was red and the right side was white. A prominent black mark was visible on her forehead, looking like an upside down lotus. Her long curved horns were black and white, the horns curving inward toward her face like a ram’s. A dark navy blue business dress graced her form, orange-pink buttons going down the center of it. The collar of her dress was white and her red undershirt had a round pink pin with a stitched up face on it. Her dress had several tatters in it. Navy blue gloves covered her hands and wrists, with a yellow eye decoration on each one. She also wore matching cowgirl boots, the tips of them the same pinkish color as her pin. A red pointed tail with a few white spots on it excitedly swished back and forth behind her.

“Hi there, I’m Elektriz, the “a” is silent, and I’m the founder of I.M.P.!”

The logo appeared in red sparkles over her outstretched left hand. “I.M.P.” was shown in bold black letters, the “M” shaped like black and white imp horns. Down below were words in red: “Immediate Murder Professionals.”

“Are you a piece of shit who got yourself sent to Hell?”

A small screen in the right hand corner showed Elektriza wearing a black cape and two black pointed hats on her horns. A monocle rested near her left eye. She was grinning in front of a burning house. The sign beside her read “orphanage for disabled neglected children.”

“Or are you an innocent soul who just happened to be fucked over by someone else?”

The next slide showed Elektriza in a white angel costume throwing a styrofoam cup into a waste bin next to a recycle bin. An old clerk with large glasses was working behind a desk in the background. Red pentagrams decorated the walls.

The next clip showed a video of a tall muscular red demon talking in front of a camera. She was wearing a white shirt that read “Ohio” on it in red. A 666 News billboard was in the background along with a “Hella” sign and a beer poster. An imp held a wooden sign that read “Some person who hired us!”

The red demon spoke, “After lovingly killing my husband for fucking a delivery lady, you can imagine my surprise when I wound up here, after the state of Ohio killed me.” She punched one of her hands with her meaty fist. “I really wish I could just stick it to that yapping charter who saw me hiding the body!”

The scene cut back to Elektriza who was shown holding an ornate Satanic ritual book. She was in a room full of white candles and skulls scattered on the floor and a white clothed altar with a round mirror on it.

Behind her were her two employee imps, Moxxia and Millard. Moxxia had white messy hair and black and white stripped horns curving back in a zig zag look. Several white tuffs of hair rested beside her cheeks on either side. She wore a similar dark navy blue business dress like her boss, with the pink buttons in the center and the cuffs of the sleeves white. Moxxia’s face was red, and her eyes were big and yellow. White freckles dotted near her eyes and an orange-pink bow rested on top of her head between her horns. Her red and blue curved hooves were visible, as was her red pointed tail with a couple of black stripes on it.

Finally, there was the other imp, Millard. Millard had a red face like his wife Moxxia, and also had big yellow eyes. His hair was short, black, and wild on top of his head. A white spot in his hair took the shape of a skull. His tall long horns were black with faint white stripes on them. The horns curved slightly past the back of his head. Unlike the other two, he wore torn black jeans and a black crop top shirt that exposed his red shoulders. His clawed feet and red tail were visible as well.

“Well luckily for you,” Elektriza mentioned, referring back to the red demon desperate for revenge, “Thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…”

She grinned and wiggled her fingers.

Fwoosh!

A fast explosive sound was heard and a flaming portal appeared inside the candle circle. The impact sent the other two imps scurrying away. She walked over to the portal.

“We can help you take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who screwed you over when you were alive!”

She smiled and fell backwards into the portal.

The next image showed a white figure with an angry expression, arms crossed. A thought bubble was above the head with a red x over another figure. A red monster fell next to the startled figure. The camera panned up and showed the three imps arriving in a red circle. Millard stood with a spear in his hands, Moxxia held a gun and Elektriza stood with both her arms out. Elektriza’s arms made the “M” in the I.M.P. logo.

The commercial jingle began:

“Who you want somebody gone

And you don’t wanna wait too long

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals”

Moxxia threw a grenade out the window, Elektriza and Millard covering their ears and smiling as it exploded. A picture of a growling Moxxia hung on the wall.

In an office room, Elektriza grinned manically as she hung a struggling human from the ceiling. Millard held a piece of paper and showed it to Moxxia, who was sitting on a chair. On the wall was a flat screen TV, a rocker poster, and a drawing of Madam Zmeya, the snake inventor.

Elektriza shocked a bond and gagged victim, Millard used a mace on another victim, while a scowling Moxxia choked a third.

“Whether grenade or cyanide

We’ll make it look like suicide

The Immediate Murder Professionals”

“We do our job so well

Because we come straight up from Hell”

The next clip showed Elektriza mentioning for her partners in crime to follow her through a flaming portal in the wall. Millard happily followed, along with Moxxia, who tripped on a book as she ran through. The three imps appeared through the floor and did poses after Moxxia quickly stood back up. They fell silent as humans in a church service stared at them in shock.

“We’ll kill your husband our your wife

We’ll even let you keep the knife

The Immediate Murder Professionals

Kids die for free!”

Millard was shown greedily eying a pink pair of ladies underwear while stabbing a naked couple having sex in bed. Moxxia groaned and looked away. Elektriza found a pair of boxers and help them up for a closer look.

Elektriza repeatedly stabbed another victim’s head in a chair at a circus in Hell. “The Elektriza Extravaganza” was shown in bold black letters on a sign.

The imps killed more people, torturing people with Medieval stretching, chasing victims with a shark, roasting them with gasoline and fire, smothering them with pillows, dropping a piano on them, and electrocuting them.

A little kid with white skin, brown curly hair, black pants and an orange shirt with a ringed planet on it was strolling along licking a pink ice cream cone.

Bang!

The kid fell to the ground after Moxxia shot her in the back. The imps looked at each other in shock, believing they had killed the wrong target. The kid was rushed to the worst hospital in the city, one where the doctors carelessly treated the kid and only cared about insurance money. The girl was rushed into the emergency room.

“Doctor, she’s not responding,” said a pink haired male, rapidly shaking the girl’s still form.

“Who ordered a stat?” asked a female with glasses. She gave the kid hard chest compressions. “It didn’t do anything!”

The doctor came in. “Damn it! We’re not losing another one! Clear!”

The kid received a shock to the heart and she gasped for air.

“Holy shit that actually worked,” the blonde spectacled doctor muttered.

The imps sat in the waiting room, just outside door 66. The doctor came out to see them.

“She’s in stable condition, but she’ll need surgery. Now what kind of insurance do you freaks have?”

“The fuck is insurance?!” asked Elektriza.

The imps, kid and bed were promptly sent crashing through a window, glass flying everywhere. Everyone screamed as they fell. Thankfully, a flaming portal was underneath them, sending the group back into Hell.

Moxxia and Millard later sang a murder love song in their living room before the meeting. Moxxia played on her purple guitar as Millard watched her with love in his eyes. It reminded them of the good times when they would shoot at demons together in the streets, when they dragged a bloody sack behind them and when Millard got a grenade as a present and used it to blow up a building.

Moxxia began:

“Oh what a thrill when the crimson starts to spill

And my Millard goes in for the kill

He takes away my breath

He’s the angel of death, Millard

Oh Millard”

“Everything is like a dream

When I hear his victims start to scream

When I go for the attack

He’s always got my back, on guard

Oh Millard”

“When the blood starts dripping down the sides

And the bodies start to fall from the skies

My heart skips a beat

When my Millard’s guns a blazing in the night

He makes me feel alive in every fight

Through blood and tears, we’ll never be apart

He makes the murdering fun from the start”

Both of them hummed before Moxxia finished,

“Of all the imps in Hell…it’s for him that I fell…”

Millard joined in at the same moment, “It’s for her that I fell…”

“Oh Millard.”

They leaned in for a kiss.

They paused. Moxxia yelled, while looking out the window. Elektriza was pressed against the window with a video camera.

“Are you fucking filming us right now?!” she yelled.

Millard glanced over and sighed, as a smiling Elektriza held up a sign which read “Meeting in 2 hours: nice job banging yo’ wife!”

Just before the meeting, Elektriza walked into the receptionist room.

A white and grey male Hellhound was already there, Chandra the grumpy receptionist. He wore a grey-blue shirt with black strings making a downward Pentagram design at the top. His jeans were torn and black, his paws visible. He wore a spiked collar around his neck and rings on his pointed ears. His eyes were red with white irises and black pupils, eyes that seemed perpetually angry or bored.

The rotary bone-shaped phone made barking sounds as it rang. The hound picked it up.

“Hello, I.M.P.” he said in a gruff monotone.

“Me and my wife got stabbed! Somebody help…”

Chandra abruptly hung up and continued reading a Hellhound Monthly magazine in front of him. His breath smelled like meth and cigarette smoke. A hidden “to do” list in front of him read: “terrorize the werecats,” “go get a drink,” “hang out with cute Sobtiny at the hound rock concert.” He already imagined himself back in the comfort of his home, punching a punching bag with Moxxia’s face on it.

Moxxia stomped over to the Hellhound’s desk, holding a “chub be gone” paper in her hand. “Did you just send me an ad for weight loss?”

“No,” he replied.

“Why would anyone send me this?”

Chandra let out a small smile. “Come on. You know why.”

Moxxia sighed, “You’re just awful!” before she wondered over to get water.

“Hello Chandy!” Elektriza beamed at her adoptive son as she came over. “Did you enjoy my adoption anniversary present?”

“I already fucking told you,” Chandra growled. “It was a bunch of spiders and not a cure for syphilis. So no.”

“Aw don’t be such a liar,” Elektriza remarked in a playful tone. “Although I’m sorry that it happened, regardless.” Chandra growled out loud, clenching his claws.

The phone rang again and Chandra answered it.

“Elektriz!” he called. “That clingy rich asshole’s on the phone! Says it’s urgent and wants to talk to you!” Then he muttered, “Sounds a little D T F y.” (Down to fuck).

Moxxia walked back in, standing by Elektriza next to the water cooler.

“Oh god that was one time!” Elektriza called, spilling water everywhere. “We wouldn’t be able to have access to the living world, if I didn’t sleep with that privileged asshole!”

Moxxia paused, confused. “You what?”

“And…I may have stolen her book after we fucked. Man it was heavy. Yeah, I then fell off a balcony and landed in the king owl’s cake. Then I was like, ‘Sorry I fucked your wife!’”

“Elektriz!” Chandra bellowed.

“I heard you already!” Elektriza shouted back.

The head imp walked over to another desk and gulped down a cup of iced coffee. She took a breath and sighed in satisfaction. “Ah, this stuff never gets old! My horse Thumbtack agrees with me.”

“Your horse doesn’t exist,” Moxxia remarked.

“Don’t you be mean to our boss like that,” Millard piped up as he walked over to Moxxia.

“Don’t tell me that you believe her?”

“I just find it amusing that she changes her horse’s name every day!”

“That’s more like it,” Elektriza responded. “You see, we need more of Millard’s good spirits in all of us. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a certain someone to talk to before the meeting.”

Elektriza left and opened the door to her office, the one where “Elektriza” was written with the “a” crossed out.

Moxxia huffed. “Great, now I don’t have my avocado salad for lunch because someone decided to eat it.”

She glared at Chandra who flipped her the bird. “I was hungover and hungry, alright?”

“Why would you get drunk on a workday anyway?” asked Millard to Chandra.

“Dumbass! I was hung over from this morning!” he replied.

“At least I don’t go around kicking babies in strollers,” Moxxia scoffed.

“Just admit it, everyone knows you’re a white-haired loser, Moxxia.”

“So…” drawled Elektriza as she played with bobbleheads of Moxxia and Millard on her desk in her office. A circus poster hanging on the wall reminded Elektriza of the times when she performed with her two brothers, Tillo and Barb Wire. She was sitting in her chair holding her cell phone. “What can I do you for, Stola?”

An owl princess lounged on a couch in her palace, holding an old rotary phone with wings on it. Her eyes were large and red, her round black hat had a gold crown on it. The hat also had red markings similar to her eyes. Long silky black hair fell past her shoulders, brushing her grey feathery wings. Her chest was fluffy and a silvery grey. A portrait shown a picture of the royal family: Stola, her husband and their son, Prince Octavius. A red robe with a fur collar was draped over her.

The princess spoke in a British accent. “There’s a doctor that’s causing trouble up on Earth for a few of my associates. He’s trying to convince people that the Covid 19 Pandemic exists and to take extra precautions.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but more people die when they’re being careless and nothing’s done about it. And though I hate being lonely…it’s getting overcrowded here. Frankly, the global warming issue seems easier to deal with.”

“Okay well now that makes sense,” said Elektriza. A mug with “#1 boss” was on the desk.

“You know what happens when I’m lonely or stressed, Trizzy?”

“God fuckin damn it,” she muttered.

The owl grinned, her eyes glowing red, she spoke a lot of curse words and terrible things. “When I’m lonely, I become hungry. And when I’m hungry, I want to choke on that big red…of yours…lick your…bite with more teeth…until you’re screaming…like a fucking baby!”

A stunned Elektriza hung up from the “one night stand bird dick,” broke her phone in half, banged another phone on top of it, then mixed the pieces into a blender.

“Here, eat this,” Elektriza said to Chandra who came in. The Hellhound guzzled it down.

“And you know that bridge over the freeway?”

“Yeah?” asked the hound.

“Shit off it.”

The imps currently resided in a tall office building that seemed to stand out among the other structures. Along with spikes jutting from the roof and sides, there were a pair of giant black and white imp horns attached to the sides of the building for decoration. The lights inside near the top floor were on.

Posted on a door were the words “I.M.P. Headquarters” with “IMP Meeting in Progress” written on a piece of paper taped to the door, a smiley face off to the side.

On a white board was a bar graph and a line graph, the line graph pointing lower at a drawing of a raging horned demon. “Fix this shit!” was written in big bold letters that took up much of the board. “Elektriza is the best, by Elektriza” was scribbled off to the side. Several tall chairs with spikes jutting from the top boarders were set near a brown table in the center of the room. A white pentagram was drawn in the center of the table.

Elektriza began to speak, pacing back and forth. She looked toward her audience of two imps and a hellhound sitting on chairs around a table.

“All right, now I know business has been…a bit slow, lately.”

She mentioned to the board at the downward sloping line. “In fact, there seems to be less people seeking out our services; 1,056 in comparison to the 1,066 from last month. We’ve basically spiraled from the True Blue Market to that of the Raging Bull.” She pointed at the roaring demon head drawing on the board.

“Shouldn’t it be the Bull Market is good and the Bear Market is bad?” said a voice.

“Moxxia, nobody cares what you think,” Elektriza said, before continuing.

“Any decrease could spell disaster for us, not to mention how lots of people use our services and yet look down on us.” Elektriza cleared her throat and spread out her hands. “Now, I’m not saying it’s, *cough* Moxxia’s or anyone’s fault…”

Moxxia raised her eyebrows.

Elektriza continued, “…but let’s discuss how we can improve. Now does anyone have any ideas on how to get business drumming up again?”

Millard, raised his hand with a grin and shining eyes.

“What…about…a car wash?!”

“This is Hell, Milliard, no one cares about cars being clean here, okay?!”

Just then, there came a coughing from the other room. A small cyclops demon with hot pink hair with a patch of yellow opened the door and walked in. He brushed off soot from his white shirt and waved at the group, who stared in surprise.

“Hi, I’m Preppy! It’s nice to meet you all.”

He darted around the room and began removing cobwebs from the windows. “It looks like there are two women, a man and a dog here, a nice balance.”

Chandra, the grey hellhound glared at Preppy, narrowing his red eyes. “What was that, you little shit?”

Preppy stopped in his tracks. “Now, did you guys need any cars to be washed?”

Elektriza shook her head. “We don’t have any cars here, we’re broke as fuck.”

Millard stared at Preppy and cupped his own cheeks with his hands. “Oh my Satan! He’s so adorable! Can we keep him?!”

“No!” Moxxia and Chandra shouted at the same time. The two workers then glared at each other.

Moxxia crossed her arms. “We’re in the middle of a meeting right now. Do you mind?!” She pointed to the door.

Preppy laughed nervously, “Oh okay, sorry about that, hehhehheh. I’ll be outside if you need me!”

He scurried out of the room.

Elektriza paused for a moment, then said, “Oh right! Ideas for our company!” She waved her hands, eyes shining. “How about a billboard?!”

Moxxia crossed her arms. “We can’t afford a billboard, mam’.”

Elektriza rushed over and held Moxxia in a headlock. Her voice was rushed and sarcastic, “So helpful, Moxxia, I’m really glad you’re in the room right now.” She shoved Moxxia away.

Elektriza stared in frustration. “Have you guys forgotten what service we provide?!”

She picked up a remote and turned on an old fashioned TV.

After static appeared on screen, the footage showed the group killing off individuals.

Elektriza bashing a red demon’s head with a mullet.

Moxxia shooting a blue person tied up to a chair.

Chandra grabbing a red person in his mouth and shaking the person side to side like a wolf.

Millard beheading a blue person with a spear and laughing.

Elektriza watched with a relaxed smile on her face, holding up a blue bowl of popcorn. Chandra sat on the table, popping popcorn pieces into his mouth. Millard perched on the table, enjoying the show, but Moxxia stood off to the side with a grumpy face.

Posters hung from the walls, one showing Elektriza and her two brothers, Tillo (an imp with short black hair) and Barb Wire (a smiling imp with ram-like horns.) It was a picture of them at a circus, the banner reading “The Amazing Imp Siblings!” Elektriza remembered the good times she had with them when they performed on stage. Barb Wire would balance on a tightrope, holding a pole with flames on either end. Tillo tamed and evaded manticores, dragons and other beasts that were released into the arena. Elektriza would sing songs about murdering people and they would all pose and bow at the end as the crowd cheered.

That was before Elektriza moved on to form I.M.P., recruited Moxxia and Millard, and adopted Chandra.

Elektriza moved a hand toward her chest and sighed with content. “Ah, those were good times.”

Moxxia spoke up as Millard ate a piece of popcorn. “We don’t need any reminding, mam’, considering you blew most of our salaries on an obnoxious TV ad last week, one that you then additionally paid to have run for a full three hours on a channel, nobody watches!”

Elektriza turned her head, insulted. “Hey, uh, excuse me?” She stood up. “What’s “obnoxious” about a super fun jingle, all right? It’s a fun distraction when an advertisement’s spitting bullshit.” She walked across the room.

“People love musicals, mam’,” Millard added.

Elektriza smiled. “Exactly, Millard, and we’re basically doing a musical.” Elektriza did jazz hands before pointing rapidly at Moxxia with a scowl.

“Are you gonna crush my musical theater dreams like my mom did?” She lowered her head.

“Mam’…” Moxxia began, but her boss cut her off.

“Because right now, all I see is just my mom’s asshole talking to me, crushing my dreams of being, who I truly am inside.” She turned his head away.

Millard leaned in toward his wife and spoke with a teasing tone. “Are you trying to crush her dreams, Moxxia?”

“I…what?” she asked, looking at him. Millard leaned in close and stuck out his tongue, tail curling. “I thought I knew you.” Moxxia rolled her eyes; her husband loved to annoy her.

Elektriza turned back to Moxxia, tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe you, Moxxia. And after I made you Employee of the Month.” She held a picture of Moxxia with her mouth open in a roar, snake tongue showing.

Moxxia threw up her hands, “Okay, mam’ I’m sorry, but a commercial jingle is not comparable to musical theater. Nobody actually likes the jingles.”

“I liked it!” Millard pipped up.

Moxxia turned to him, finger shaking, “Do not…do not agree with her in front of me.”

Chandra sat, bored, playing on his phone. Moxxia’s head appeared on the screen but was crushed by a weight and then blown up by a bomb. At one point her face was sliced in half as “boom!” flashed across the screen.

Moxxia spoke, hands forward in front of her. “I’d like to go on record and say that incident with shooting the kid was Chandra’s fault. Dispatch is supposed to give us the right info on the target. It’s very simple.”

“Oh sit on some boobs, Moxxia,” Chandra replied without looking up.

Moxxia stuttered angrily, looking for a comeback. “You sit…sit on a…a…do your job!” She slammed her palm on the table.

Elektriza scolded her. “Hey, now we don’t blame our screw-ups on Chandra, okay? He didn’t do anything wrong.” She hugged him and nuzzled her head against his cheek, the hellhound growling at her to get off.

Moxxia stared in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, mam’? He’s awful!”

“The point is, Chandra is a valued member of our family and we don’t get rid of families.”

“We aren’t a family, mam’,” Moxxia pointed out. “You are the boss. We are the employees. You treat him like he’s some troubled teenager. He’s more like a meth-addicted homeless man you let run the phones.”

Chandra flipped her the bird.

“Now, that is offensive,” remarked Elektriza, walking to the window, pulling open the blinds. “Without homeless people, I wouldn’t have half the joy and laughter I do in this life.”

Outside, a homeless imp with a broken horn and ragged grey clothing held up a sign that read “Monee helps. Satan Bless.” An imp man with black clothing and little bat wings blushed at Elektriza who waved and did a playful raise of eyebrows before closing the blinds.

Moxxia crossed her arms. “While we’re on the subject of “family,” can you stop finding me and Millard outside of work?”

“Come on, it’s not that big a deal,” Millard said.

Moxxia’s eyes grew wide. “Excuse me…what?! She was in our fucking fridge! She was spying on me while I was asleep. And worse, she fucking filmed me and you while we were singing and about to kiss!”

Elektriza giggled. “I still have it on camera.”

“It’s fine, honey,” Millard replied to Moxxia, patting her shoulder. “The “spoiler alert, butter’s spoiled!” was a funny use of wordplay Elektriza used.”

“No way,” Moxxia countered. “I had a great dream about my parents being murdered and Elektriza interrupted it.”

“I was just curious,” Elektriza responded.

“Just…stop…doing that,” Moxxia growled.

“I don’t see what the issue is,” said Elektriza with a mischievous grin. “Something you don’t want me seeing?”

“No!” Moxxia spat.

“Your shaggy flower blossoms?” Elektriza asked.

Chandra giggled under his breath.

Moxxia was fed up. “Mam’, what you say and how you act is totally inappropriate!”

Millard pulled her down gently. “Calm down, Mox, you’re gonna have another panic attack!”

“I am calm!” she yelled.

Millard rubbed her head and soothed her. “Shh, there, there.” Moxxia whimpered.

Elektriza spoke again with a childish grin, making a hole with two fingers and tapping the opening with one finger. “Look, I don’t judge the boring couple stuff you do outside of work hours, so don’t judge me.”

Veins popped out of Moxxia’s yellow eyes. “Oh I do judge you, mam’. Quite a lot, actually.” She crossed her arms as Millard gasped in horror.

“Mox, she’s our boss!”

“No, it’s fine, Millard,” said Elektriza with a wave of her hand. “Your wife is just…how do I say this without being offensive…retarded.”

“Does immaturingly insulting me make you feel better about your sad, single, life?”

Elektriza leaned in toward Moxxia. “Yes it does, actually.”

Chandra appeared to agree, because he added to Moxxia, “The only reason you have a husband is because you’re easy to manage.”

“No she’s not, you turd!” Millard yelled, holding up two middle fingers.

“Do not talk to my assistant that way!” Elektriza demanded. “He’s sensitive!”

“Yes I am!” Chandra barked.

Then a squeaky voice sounded from nearby: “You guys are all fucking assholes.”

Everyone turned and stared at a girl wearing an orange shirt with a planet on it. She had curly brown hair, white skin and was connected to a monitor.

Elektriza pointed at her. “Oh shut up, kid, you’re lucky to witness this.”

Moxxia pinched her nose and sighed in frustration. “Ugh, this company’s such a mess!”

“Did someone call me?” Preppy’s voice rang from the hallway. He opened the door a crack. “I can clean up any messes you may have!”

“No!” Moxxia called. “Go away!”

Preppy slowly closed the door.

An awkward silence…

“Alright, let’s get back to talking about my outfit!” Elektriza said out of nowhere.

“Nobody was talking about that,” Chandra mentioned.

“Which is why I’m trying to get that ball rolling, so how does it look? It’s good, right?”

The kid ripped off the wires from her stomach.

“It was hell pretending to be paralyzed so you fuckshits wouldn’t kill me, but now? I want that. I want death. You!” she pointed to Elektriza. “You’re a selfish, greedy clown. And I’m a kid! We’re supposed to like clowns…even the creepy ones!”

Moxxia scoffed. “Hey now, that’s not very…”

The kid cut her off. “If I wanted to talk to a spineless jackass bitch, I’d rip out your spine and ask you some shit.”

Moxxia shivered in fear.

“That’s my wife you’re talking to!” Millard yelled.

The kid snickered. “That’s your wife?! I figured you for a man whore, but I didn’t know you needed it that bad! Fucking with an old lady, ha!”

Millard fumed at his wife being called ugly and weak. To think that he would have sex with anyone else at random…

“And you!” The kid pointed at Chandra.

“Yeah? What about me?” Chandra asked.

The kid crossed her arms and smirked. “Nothing. I don’t talk to dogs. I’m a cat person.”

Chandra whined before turning back to his phone.

“Wow,” said Elektriza. “You know, kid, you kind of are a piece of shit.”

“Oh you gotta admit, she’s good,” Moxxia muttered.

A ding came from Chandra’s phone. He smiled. “Oh fuck guys, I just got a text from our client. Guess she was the right target after all.”

“Who?” Elektriza asked.

“Her.”

“Me?” asked the kid.

“Yep,” he confirmed.

“They wanted us to kill an actual child?” Elektriza asked.

“That’s what they’re saying,” Chandra said.

Elektriza grinned and twirled a gun in her hand. Her job just got more fun and easier. “Well Christ on a stick, I guess there is a god!” She fired and shot the girl in the chest. She flopped down dead with a yell in a pool of blood, smoke and sparks lingering in the air.

Elektriza spoke about I.M.P.: “You know folks, with this company, I really wanted to prove that we’re capable of doing the same things anyone else can, like killing people. So from us here at the Immediate Murder Professionals group, we promise to settle your unfinished business or your money is gone and you’re never getting it back and you can write us a bad review but we’ll play dumb to it because it’s Hell and no one fucking cares.”

Elektriza, Moxxia and Millard kicked the dead kid on the floor, enjoying themselves. Blood coated the floor and walls. Chandra snapped a picture with his phone. After the imps left with the body, Preppy came in and gasped.

“Well, time to clean this up. What a mess!” He hummed a happy tune as he mopped up the blood at rapid speed.

Elektriza and Moxxia wore gas masks and green suits as Elektriza sawed off the girl’s arm and Moxxia sawed her chest, organs spilling out into a sack below. Millard tossed an arm into the sack and Chandra held it open. Moxxia dropped the girl’s severed head inside and shared a loving smile with her husband.

Etched in red graffiti on a dumpster behind them were the words “Devil,” “Hell,” “Happy Hotel,” and “I’m always chasing rainbows.” A pentagram, and wide smiles were also doodled on the surface.

Elektriza embraced the entire group in a forceful hug, knocking the phone from Chandra’s hands.

“You know, even though this kid was a target, she’s still a child. It’s important that we’ve handled this going forward, respectfully.” She wrapped her long tail around the group, all of them smiling genuinely. For despite all their problems, they were still a company family.

Back in the human world, a crying blonde father wearing a pink shirt held up a paper saying “missing girl.” Below in large letters on the news was: “Dad sucks at drawing own kid!”

The father spoke into the microphone, “Please, if anyone has seen my little Ellie…”

He gasped as a sack dropped into his hands. He and the news reporter looked up to see a smiling Elektriza, Millard, and Moxxia through a portal up above.

“You’re welcome!” Elektriza called with a wave before the portal closed.

The father looked inside the bag and screamed. “My daughter! She’s dead! Noooooo!”

#helluvaboss #hazbin hotel #rule 63

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doctorhelena · 5 years

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Steggy Fic: Spies and Showgirls

I’ve written something for every day of Steggy Week 2k19! This is for Day 6 (tropes, clichés, symbols, and associations). Previous days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5

Summary: Peggy goes undercover on the Captain America USO tour.

Rating: M

Notes: Fake dating for trope day. :) This is a WIP - I’ve written the next few chapters, but I’m not going to post them right away because I need to make sure my spy plot is coherent and I don’t want to write myself into any corners! But I will definitely be updating as soon as I can.

Thanks to @roboticonography who thought up the basic premise and let me adopt it!

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

“Well, don’t just stand in the doorway, son,” said Colonel Phillips. “I haven’t got all day.” He jerked his chin toward one of the chairs in front of his desk, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watched Steve carefully cross the office. “I hear you’ve been busy trying to destroy the parts of the base Hydra didn’t manage to get with that explosion.”

“I’m getting a handle on it,” said Steve, with more optimism than he actually felt. He was still constantly underestimating both his size and his strength, and he’d damaged a truly embarrassing amount of government property over the past few days.

Phillips snorted as Steve sat down. “Well, I wish I could say your two left feet are about to be Senator Brandt’s problem, not mine, but unfortunately for me, looks like you’ll be the SSR’s headache for a bit longer than we thought.”

Steve leaned forward, suddenly alert, but Phillips shook his head. “You’re not coming to Italy.”

“But - ”

“But nothing.”

Steve set his jaw. “I can fight. I passed Basic. And the serum worked. I could - ”

“Stand down, soldier,” snapped Phillips. “I don’t care how big you are, or how fast you can recover from a paper cut, you’re not a trained agent and you’re not the army of super soldiers I was promised.” He leaned forward. “What you are is the best clue anyone has to recreate the serum.”

Steve nodded, a little warily. He’d been getting a taste of the lab rat life over the past few days, and he had to say that, given the choice, selling war bonds with the USO was starting to look pretty good in comparison.

“Well,” said Phillips, with a monumental sigh that clearly conveyed that whatever was to follow was entirely Steve’s fault, “looks like Hydra’s interested too. Word is, they’ve managed to plant an operative in the USO company Brandt’s got you touring with. Now,” he held up a hand, “could be a coincidence, but realistically, if it quacks like a duck it probably tastes good with orange sauce.”

Steve blinked. “I, uh - ”

“We damned well can’t take the chance of Hydra getting their hands on you and recreating Erskine’s formula,” said Phillips, as if Steve hadn’t spoken. “But, knowing they’re there gives us a chance to ferret them out. Knock ‘em out and take ‘em in for interrogation before they get a chance to chomp down on that damned cyanide capsule they’ve all got.”

“I find a right hook to the jaw is generally quite effective,” said Agent Carter conversationally from the doorway, a canvas dispatch bag slung over one shoulder, a clipboard in her other hand. She smiled at Steve.

Phillips sighed and gestured her in. “Sit down, Carter. You’re late.” With her usual smooth confidence, she crossed the room and settled herself in an empty chair as Phillips continued. “You may be bigger and stronger than you were, Rogers, but I’m pretty sure you aren’t any sneakier. So, I’m sending Agent Carter here along to babysit you.”

Steve stared at her, startled, and Phillips raised his eyebrows. “I hope you aren’t going to tell me you don’t need a bodyguard, Rogers. ‘Cause I’d put money on her over you in a boxing match any day.”

“No,” said Steve, “That’s - not what I - ”

“You are not a spy,” said Phillips, “and she’s a pretty damned good one. And, like I said, I’d bet on her against most in a fight. Nobody sees her coming.”

“I know,” said Steve, turning to Agent Carter, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow, although she also looked a little like she was trying not to smile. “I don’t know the first thing about how to spot a Hydra agent. And the first thing I saw you - her - Agent Carter - do was take out Private Hodge with one punch. I just - wasn’t expecting this. Any of this.”

Phillips sighed. “Get used to it, son. Like it or not, you have a big target painted on your back.” He shuffled through his papers. “Carter’ll show you the ropes. Just do what she tells you, and for God’s sake don’t blow her cover.”

Steve found himself suddenly considering just what her cover might be, in a touring company full of chorus girls.

Phillips rolled his eyes. “If you’re hoping to see her in one of those little showgirl outfits, think again, kid. She’s going in on the administrative side, Senator Brandt’s representative.” He shuffled through his papers again and raised an eyebrow. “And, apparently, your girl friend.” He gave Agent Carter a sideways look.

“My - my what?” Suddenly it seemed very warm in the office.

Agent Carter sighed. ““We’ll need a reason to spend a great deal of time together without many questions being asked.”

“Oh,” said Steve, blinking. “That - that makes sense.”

“Don’t get used to it, son,” grumbled Phillips. “Nothing else in this damned army does.” He set his papers down, shook his head wearily at Agent Carter, then fixed Steve with a stern look. “Now, Agent Carter is in charge here. You need to follow her lead on whatever you might have to do to maintain her cover, but you need to remember it’s only a cover.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m giving her full permission to use that right hook of hers. Do you understand me?”

“I wouldn’t -” began Steve, offended.

“I don’t think it’s really necessary to -” said Agent Carter, at the same time.

Phillips sat back in his chair. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page.” He waved his hand. “Now, get out of here. I’ve got packing to do.”

Read the rest on A03

#steggyweek2k19 #fanfic #steggy #my fic

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

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Ava & Nancy

Ava: Has he told you? Nancy: Yeah Ava: How are you holding up? Nancy: better than he is Ava: Not saying much but Ava: that's something Nancy: how are you holding up then? Ava: It's been, a rollercoaster implies that it's in any way on the rails so not that, something as up and down and side to side Ava: tornado, perhaps Ava: but it's far from about me so I'm just here, you know Nancy: I know what you mean Ava: It's more to do with you than me Ava: so, what did he say exactly? Nancy: You know what he's like, just coming out with it Nancy: there's nothing for me to argue with Nancy: maybe if I had a clue then but now Ava: Yeah Ava: but none of us did Ava: I think mum was probably right, even if that's fucked Ava: taking it to the police wouldn't have done anything Nancy: She'd had talked her way out of it, his word against hers and he doesn't come across well when he's upset Ava: Exactly Ava: it's one of those legal grey areas Ava: morally black but you know Ava: can't get charged for that Nancy: I feel like shit, if I hadn't left it wouldn't have been her and none of this would be happening Ava: I know, but you have to try not to think like that Ava: she picked him, really Ava: he was angry and upset, with you, yeah, but Rio too and you know, everyone and everything Ava: but I don't think he would have pursued her, if he were in any state Ava: and she had her problems with you, but I don't think that's solely why she did it either Nancy: I know but he could've used any girl in Chelsea to get back at Rio, it was her because of me, that's all my thoughts keep coming back to Nancy: and no other girl would've used him like that for any reason Ava: We all let each other down Ava: sometimes you have to do what you have to do Ava: and then sometimes bad shit happens because of that Ava: Chloe wouldn't have felt the need to drop this if I weren't with James Ava: we could all just keep on not knowing Nancy: It's not your fault, Av, she hated you cos she hated me first Nancy: it's not like she's heartbroken over James Ava: Still, it wouldn't have happened, you were never going to be dating him Ava: but none of us can live beholden to her and the things she has over us, we shouldn't Ava: at least now, we aren't, she's played all her cards Nancy: Did Buster tell you she's already engaged? Ava: I heard Ava: I looked on Gen's profile and he's like her dad's age Ava: and really stereotypically Italian Nancy: Gross Nancy: I swear to god, she's not a real person Nancy: who does any of this? Ava: I think she does her hardest not to be Ava: fuck everyone else Ava: her parents are just Ava: at a total loss Ava: we say ours are ashamed of us but this is so real Ava: they've had more to do with James than her for years now Nancy: At least he's got their support Ava: I think they're just as scared that they'll lose contact as he is Nancy: Yeah, of course Ava: Did he say if he'd told Ri yet? Nancy: I asked, when I was at my angriest, before I really understood what the circumstances were Nancy: He wouldn't talk about her which either means he has and it didn't go well, or he's still working up to it Ava: She's going to know something is wrong, he can't hide anything from her Ava: and the test takes as long as it takes, I know he was waiting for that but I don't know how Nancy: Right now, I'm selfishly glad that she knows we barely talk so she won't ask me Ava: That's going to be Ava: not fun Ava: never mind how pregnant she is Nancy: Oh god, don't Nancy: I was going to come back for a while but maybe that'll make it worse Nancy: Like he'll think I'm just there to oversee his downfall or something Ava: You don't think that will happen, do you? Nancy: I don't think she'll leave him Nancy: But the old wounds this is gonna open up, even though nobody's disputing he didn't actually consent, when they're still dealing with everything that happened with Venus Nancy: add her hormones in and his way of reacting to literally anything Ava: Fucking hell Ava: you should come back, if you want to though Ava: regardless Nancy: Ri might need me Nancy: not that she'll admit it, obviously Ava: 'course Ava: I don't think it would hurt Nancy: I'm a crap babysitter but I'm a great person to vent at about him so Nancy: if I slag him off enough she'll start leaping to his defence automatically Ava: An evil-good plan Nancy: something good needs to come out of all the evil Ava: We can but try Nancy: Yeah Nancy: I know I need to Ava: Does feel better than doing nothing Ava: only a bit but Ava: still Nancy: I wish there was more I could really do, but it all just feels too late Nancy: inventing a time machine feels very above my capabilities, if I'm honest Nancy: Feel free to tell James I'm here if he ever wants someone to talk to about his monster of an ex Ava: I will Ava: you might have to open a hotline, by the sounds of it Nancy: That'd be a decent earner while I'm back Ava: Time is money, like Nancy: exactly Ava: Wonder what the wedding will be like Nancy: what I remember hearing about hers and James' sounded awful Nancy: but of course this one will have to be more stereotypically Italian Ava: fucked herself on flower girls too Nancy: unless he's got a big family she can insert herself into Ava: Heaven help him Ava: or she's already knocked up, the only way she does it is with a gun to her head and the groom's Nancy: has anyone checked he can speak enough English to know what's going on, like? Ava: I don't know if we've got the welfare team on that Ava: he looks pretty pleased with himself Ava: the pictures would really confirm your homosexuality for you tbh Nancy: Well that's disgusting Ava: If he was the teenaged pool boy, be all over that, obviously Ava: can only hope she's met her match this time Nancy: Even if she hasn't, like you said, there's no more she can do to any of us Nancy: And she'd never get the kids back if she wanted to try that as a last resort Ava: Not putting anything past her obviously Ava: but yeah, I can't see her trying and failing at that any time soon Ava: it's a small mercy Ava: she was no mother Nancy: Imagine having her as yours, oh my god Nancy: it makes me wanna hug mum Ava: Let's not get too crazy Nancy: the urge will have passed by mid-flight, don't worry Ava: Unless you have too many complementaries, of course Nancy: well yeah Ava: No one would blame you on that score Nancy: it doesn't help though Ava: The drink or the lack of blame? Nancy: Both Ava: Yeah Ava: not much in the party mood myself Ava: pity or otherwise Ava: though being forced to 'focus on my schoolwork' like that's remotely important right now is getting me close Nancy: Is there a brochure for the planet mum and dad live on cos I'm really intrigued by it? Ava: They really think they can keep me out of it Ava: Like I'm not the one who did the DNA test, like I'm not the one who got James and Buster to talk Ava: sure, I'll forget about that and write my politics essay, hold on 🙄 Nancy: I'll do your essay as long as you leave enough time for a thorough spell check Ava: You really wanna keep busy, yeah Nancy: Yeah Ava: You are allowed to be angry with him Ava: you know Ava: because he was a victim too doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel that Ava: even if it means you don't direct it at him, you don't have to try and repress it Nancy: I am angry at him, but I'm also so tired of being Ava: Damn genetics Nancy: He can't forgive me for going and I can't keep defending why I had to Nancy: cos he'll never accept that it's not entirely my fault, that I needed him to help me and he wouldn't Ava: He does though Ava: he's told me Ava: like you said, it's too late Nancy: He'll never tell me, so we'll only ever talk when he has good or bad news to give me Ava: Yeah Ava: it's because it doesn't change it Ava: like you said, no time machine Ava: getting him to admit that he wasn't there doesn't change that he wasn't, even if you want to hear it Ava: just like you explaining why you had to leave doesn't mean you stayed Ava: it's all just words, you know Nancy: Then how can we ever? Ava: Maybe you can't Ava: because that isn't a truce Ava: if neither of you is willing to leave your post there is no middle ground Ava: you actually have to be ready and willing to drop defending yourself and blaming each other Ava: and neither of you is, so Ava: that's that Ava: you can't make yourself give it up, clearly Nancy: It's so unfair Nancy: that everything turned out like this Ava: It just is Ava: you have to get to a place where you can just say that's what happened Ava: not attribute why's and who's to it, see it entirely objectively Nancy: maybe if I fly to Tuscany first and murder her Ava: Maybe Ava: you'll still hate yourself though Nancy: Thanks for the reminder Ava: Like you forgot Nancy: my phone alarm is set for hourly bursts of self-loathing, of course Ava: That'll be why you're tired Ava: can't even put that on him, eh Ava: unlucky, like Nancy: I'll have the luck of the Irish and all that good craic to fall back on soon enough, like Ava: 'Course Ava: be a blast Nancy: It always is Ava: It's been a while Ava: things might have changed Nancy: This family would have to catch some kind of break first Ava: Naturally, when I finish this essay, it'll all be worth it Nancy: Just make sure it's worth sticking on the fridge Ava: 'Cos that wouldn't fuck with the aesthetics Nancy: It's no finger-painting, sure Nancy: But if anyone needs the reminder that you're not a toddler it's mum and dad Ava: Really surprising they're not more elated to gain a ready-made grandkid Nancy: If the mother was anyone else, they'd be jumping for joy, no doubt Ava: Unless that mother was me Ava: of course Nancy: James has probably been well and truly scared off Ava: I reckon she's a pretty strong contraceptive Nancy: I'm in no danger but if you put me in a room with her I'd take the pill Ava: 💀 cyanide Nancy: or whichever colour gets you out of the Matrix Nancy: bye babe Ava: Careful Ava: that's what 'woke' lady and minority haters call themselves Ava: don't wanna get in that camp Nancy: is it? Ava: yeah, they're 'red pilled' 'cos they know 'the truth' Ava: the truth that feminism is a lie and all women are evil bitches, like Nancy: Oh great Ava: You accidentally been making loads of enemies over there? Ava: Whoopsie Nancy: I'll say that's the reason now Ava: Go the whole hog and call yourself an incel Ava: when any of the fam asks you how your love life is going Nancy: 😂 Nancy: Don't make me laugh though, my head is killing me Ava: I feel you Ava: the only pills I've been popping are paracetamols Nancy: Nurofen express 💚 Nancy: my actual true love Ava: so rock and roll Ava: shame even by American standards, that's no bitch's name Nancy: Read it in your best impression of the accent if you wanna swoon though, obviously Ava: It clearly does it for you, like Nancy: It's a very diverse place, thank god Ava: Sure babe Ava: the fashion industry is known for it 😏 Nancy: 🙄 Ava: Thanks for not trying to deny it Nancy: I'm not their spokesperson, pros or cons Ava: Not part of the job description of photographer or girlfriend then? Nancy: No Ava: Phew Nancy: Find a way to include it in your Politics essay Ava: Alright, mother Nancy: Never call me that again, please Nancy: if I didn't have a headache before Ava: Yeah, we didn't reckon you'd be next Nancy: Weird that you've discussed it, but okay Ava: The heat needs to be taken off somewhere, like Ava: What about Billie and her fella, do you reckon they'll go for 👶👶? Nancy: No Nancy: they barely see each other at the moment Ava: I won't put my money there then Nancy: You'd be better off keeping it on Buster Ava: I think he's disqualified by default Ava: obviously Ava: don't need no 🔮 Nancy: This one better not be born early cos of the drama Ava: She's getting out of the danger danger zone at least but still Ava: having babies is like what they were born to do Ava: missed those genetics, clearly Nancy: Lord Ava: 😂 You're so squeamish Nancy: I don't like babies, excuse me Ava: I didn't mention anything about the miracle of childbirth even Nancy: thankfully Nancy: cos it's not a miracle, it's a 🤞 & pray for the best kind of situation Nancy: you might tear open or get cut open and you get off lightly if you only 💩 or 🤢 everywhere Ava: 🙄🙄 the dramatics Ava: I've had worse nights out Ava: and I didn't get a cute kid at the end of it so 🤷 Nancy: it's not me that you need to convince so Ava: I don't think I know anyone else so definitely anti-child Nancy: I've got nothing against children, I just don't want any Ava: uhuh Nancy: It's only considered weird cos this family is so obsessed with having as many as possible Ava: Nah, it's not that Nancy: Like I said, reserve the soapbox for someone who wants to hear the pros and cons Ava: Okay Nancy: Okay, I've got loads to finish up before I can leave Ava: 'course you do Ava: I'll let you go then Nancy: I'll talk to you soon Nancy: without time zones to factor in Ava: Cool Ava: no worries Nancy: Let me know if you wanna meet up, who knows where mum and dad will decide to base themselves and when Ava: Regardless, I don't have time to come over there so I won't Nancy: Yeah, exactly Ava: Focus on what you need to do Ava: I was just checking you were okay Nancy: And I wanna check in on you too, so let me know, okay? Nancy: It's the shortest flight ever Ava: Seriously, there's no need Nancy: Alright Ava: Just focus on helping Ri, if that's what you're going to do Nancy: I'll do my best Ava: 👍 Nancy: Later then Ava: Bye Nancy: 🧡 Ava: Is Billie coming over too? Nancy: I don't know Nancy: I'll ask her when she gets home Ava: She should Nancy: I'll do my best with that too Ava: Alright Ava: that's all then Nancy: Okay, bye

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aporeticelenchus · 5 years

Text

Five times Martin brought Jon tea and one time he didn’t

Hi, I don’t even go here really, but @somuchbetterthanthat was talking about wanting someone to give Jon a cup of tea and I wanted to try to make that happen.

“What do you want, Martin?”

“Oh, ah, hello boss! Just…just wanted to bring round a cup of tea, thought I’d ask what you like.”

Jon doesn’t look up from his laptop. “I don’t like tea.”

“You…what?” Out of the corner of his eye Jon sees Martin blink in confusion. Clearly he’s never handled an idea this advanced before. Idiot. “I. Ok. I mean, it’s just – why?”

“Too bitter.” There’s a tall cup of black coffee on Jon’s desk. He can’t resist taking a sip as Martin watches. Petty, certainly, but one takes pleasure in office life where one can.

“I could sweeten it. Some milk, a bit of sugar or honey-”

“Then it would be sweet. I don’t like sweet.”

“Right.” Martin takes a deep breath. Jon doesn’t let himself smile. “I’ll just, I’ll be on my way then. Nice talking to you, I guess.”

Jon immerses himself in the silence after Martin leaves, alone with the hum of his laptop and the glow of the screen, until-

“I’m sorry,” Martin starts, yanking the office door back open, “but how can you not like tea, I mean, any tea, there’s so much and it’s all so different, and I’m pretty sure hating tea is a national crime, have you even tried a nice roasted oolong or, or, what you can do with just a dash of cinnamon or nutmeg and-”

“Martin. Working.”

“Right. Sorry.” It’s the least sorry Jon has ever heard Martin sound, but at least he has the grace to close the door.

Martin selects three mugs from a tray and arranges them on Jon’s desk with the air of a man issuing a challenge. Jon imagines him throwing down a porcelain gauntlet made of shattered teacups and smiles to himself.

“We’re going to handle this in a proper scientific manner,” says Martin. “Trial and error. There will be notes. You can record it, if you like.” When Jon doesn’t say anything his confidence seems to deflate a bit. “Um, that was a joke, I know you don’t like to waste tape.”

Jon almost tells Martin he has too much free time on his hands, then bites the comment down. It isn’t Martin’s fault he has to live at the Archives, and if there are better ways he might be passing the time…well, Jon supposes there are worse ones too.

Martin points at the first cup in the lineup. “This one, on the left, is a smoky lapsang. I haven’t added any milk or sweetener, though you might want to try that after you’ve had a few sips to see what you think.” He sounds…not exactly confident, but smoother, easier, more in control than Jon is used to. Interesting. “I thought you might like it because some of the notes are a bit like the flavors in coffee-”

“I don’t like coffee.”

Martin makes a muffled sound that speaks of great frustration and just barely greater patience. Despite himself, Jon feels an urge to explain.

“I mean, I don’t like the taste of coffee. Don’t have any feeling about it, really. It’s fine, gets the job done, and I don’t think about it much.”

Martin hums softly to himself – not unlike the sound Jon’s laptop makes when it’s processing files. “Alright. I suppose that makes sense. So when you said you didn’t like tea…same thing?”

Jon shrugs. “It was faster. You would have asked questions.”

“Ok. I can work with that. Anything to start with that you do like? Or that you actively dislike?”

“Anything is fine. I don’t really care.” A thought occurs to him, a spark of the ever-present desire to know more, even if the target is only Martin. “What’s in that one?”

He points at the last mug on the tray Martin brought in. It’s a big, ugly thing with bright colors and a cartoonish smiling face. He thinks Martin might have brought it from home – he certainly can’t image Elias approving it as an Archive purchase.

Martin flushes, and in a moment he’s back to his normal, awkward, self. Jon wonders if he should be relieved.

“Oh, that’s mine. Nothing special, just a basic earl grey. A bit of milk - well a lot of milk, I suppose. And honey. It’s how my mum used to make when – never mind, that’s not important, wouldn’t interest you, I’m just going on again aren’t I. Sorry.”

The buzzing urge to know hasn’t gone away. “Can I try it?”

Martin hands his mug over, slowly, reluctantly? “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

He’s right. There’s something in the flavor that makes Jon grimace as he takes a sip.

Martin gives a weak laugh. “Too sweet, yeah?”

“No, there’s something else. It’s sharp. I don’t care for it.” He tries to pinpoint what’s wrong. The answer feels like it’s sitting on the tip of his tongue.

“Oh,” says Martin, “that’s probably the-” bergamot, Jon’s memory provides, a moment before Martin finishes “-bergamot.”

“Yes. There’s your answer: I dislike bergamot. Anything but that, if you please.”

Martin flashes him a relieved smile, and Jon feels something funny in his stomach.

Best not to go looking for a term for that.

Jon’s eyes narrow as Martin enters his office with a cup of tea. Is he here earlier than usual? Eager to try out some plan, perhaps? Jon makes a mental note not to consume anything Martin gives him. Not that he was planning to before.

“I’m surprised you have time to make tea anymore, what with how busy it is around the archives.”

Martin turns slightly red – a sign of guilt? “Well, it’s my job. At least I think it’s my job? No one’s ever quite explained what an archival assistant is supposed to do here – that is, of course I know what an archival assistant does normally, but it’s not really normal here, is it? Even before we all got attacked by flesh worms and creepy hidden corridors and…” his voice trails off, and he shakes his head as if to clear it. “And it’s not like I’m not making tea for myself, and I like to bring it to, to everyone else. Generally. To people. Who work here. At my job.”

Martin is a terrible liar. Jon wonders how much he’s concealing. “Be that as it may, I at least have work to get done.” Martin doesn’t move. “Goodbye, Martin.”

Martin jumps a little at that and hurries out the door with a final look behind him. He leaves the cup of tea. Jon decides he’ll pour it down the sink later so Martin doesn’t grow suspicious.

Five minutes later, immersed in sorting through records, Jon absently takes a sip. It’s still warm, and along with Jon’s sudden spike of anxiety is – to his great annoyance – a matching feeling of warmth inside his chest. The tea is wonderful, subtle and complex, not too sweet without being bitter. Martin’s best effort so far, and that’s saying something.

“Probably the cyanide giving it that extra flair,” Jon mutters under his breath, and he makes himself go pour the rest out before he forgets again.

Martin is almost out the door, hand on the door-frame, before Jon finds his voice. “I- Martin!”

Martin turns around, expectant, and Jon struggles to form a coherent sentence. Damn, this is absurd, they’d had a whole…heart to heart, or whatever that was supposed to be, just a few days ago, just like he’d promised Georgie. This should be easy. Everything that isn’t being kidnapped and nearly murdered for his damn skin should be easy, probably. “Do you- do you want to talk?”

Martin blinks. “Yeah. Sure, that would be…nice.”

Jon doesn’t have an extra chair in his office. Stupid. Augh. Martin is just standing there, waiting for him to say something. Maybe it would be better if Jon stood up too? No, that’s a terrible idea. He’d just be awkwardly standing behind his desk. He clears his throat to stall for time.

“Can I do something for you? Help you out, maybe?” Martin sounds almost hopeful. Which doesn’t make any sense, but it’s better than getting yelled at by Melanie so Jon supposes he’ll take it.

“No, I just…” Jon clears his throat again. “We were talking about how we should…talk more. So I thought…” He gestures helplessly around the office. The chair-less office. This is a mess, he’s better than this. He forces his thoughts back in place. “Look, I know you have better things to do now than to bring me my morning tea, and that’s not a dig, I promise, and I appreciate it, it’s a highlight of my day, really,” nope, that’s too much honesty, reel it back in, “I just mean that if you’re still coming here, when there’s so much going on, I assume it’s not just because you feel obligated. And if it’s because you’d like to talk, I want you to know that I meant what I said before, and I’m, well, here for you. And I’m sorry I haven’t been good at it before.” Or now, apparently.

There’s a pause as Martin takes it in. Maybe Martin will decide to yell at him after all, decide it is Jon’s fault he’s trapped here. He wouldn’t be wrong. But when he speaks, his voice is impossibly gentle. “Do you have something you want to talk about, Jon? It works both ways, you know.”

“I- not really. No.”

There’s another moment of silence. Oddly, it isn’t unpleasant.

“D’you want to maybe go sit somewhere and not talk about anything important at all?” Martin asks,

“God, yes.”

Jon finds the cup of tea he had carefully made – had Known just how much milk to add, how much honey, when to stop boiling the water to get the temperature just right, had affixed a post-it note that read “for Martin” and left in a place something told him Martin would come – on the table in the break room, untouched, unchanged except for the line crossing out Martin’s name.

“For the Archivist” a voice doesn’t whisper. As if Jon wanted it.

There’s a mug of hot tea sitting on Jon’s desk. Jon doesn’t know how it got there. For a moment he thinks – well, better not to dwell on what he thinks, or what he suddenly, inconveniently, feels. Things are different now, and he has to accept that. Doesn’t he? His head hurts.

Still. Jon knows that mug. He’s knows without looking that underneath that absurd crocheted cozy – bright orange, fastened with an ugly wooden button by the handle – he’ll find two big googly eyes and a cartoon smile.

Only one man ever uses that mug. Martin wouldn’t have left it for him. Even if he were leaving Jon cups of tea these days.

Which he isn’t.

It would be absolutely, utterly stupid to drink a mysterious cup of tea that shouldn’t be on his desk. Stupid even to touch it. But these days Jon finds he doesn’t much care. If it couldn’t have been Martin, it couldn’t have been anyone else other than Martin either. Could it? No, of course it could. Jon hates the mystery, hates all these questions without good answers.

He picks up the mug, frowning slightly as he pulls up a bit of spiderweb along with it. Ugh. He’ll have to clean his desk again; this isn’t the first time he’s found stray webs clinging to it. And of course he can’t ask Martin to come take care of – no, don’t think about that. Jon grasps the handle of the mug, breathes in the warm steam and lets himself pretend for a moment that things are different.

He’s not even surprised when the scent of bergamot hits him. It’s a common enough tea, no real reason to assume – or is it Knowing? How is he supposed to tell the difference? – that somewhere in the Institute, Martin is frantically searching for a cup of tea he’d just made.

#The Magnus Archives #aporetic fiction #only vaguely shippy

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