#i would like to express my appreciation to the authority that allowed alan to take part

[edgetolife]

#i would like to express my appreciation to the authority that allowed alan to take part #it was probably his self-respect tho #he is talking about drifting mv #the strange man from england #alan wilder #recoil

[calenheniel]

Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Epilogue

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+

They meet as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths cross again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.

Follow updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

Read below, or find links to AO3/FF.Net/Wattpad on my Tumblr.

NEW: Extended author’s notes here. Read after finishing the Epilogue.

Author’s Note: As you can imagine, this story was quite difficult to end in a competent and thoughtful way. I hope I have done it justice, in any case. Thanks again to all of you for your kind support and comments throughout the last few months. Full reflections and notes on this story to follow in the next 1-2 weeks on Tumblr; follow the #QueenoftheAshesFrozen tag for updates.

»»————-　❈　————-««

Epilogue

“Your Majesty! Many hearty congratulations to you!”

The king bites the inside of his cheek to keep from frowning at the interruption; the offending duke is never one for subtlety at public events, and this one is no exception.

He smiles as he turns from his conversation with the Portuguese ambassador, who looks less than thrilled at the intrusion. “Welcome, Sir Alan. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The duke’s chest puffs out at the acknowledgment. “Indeed. I remember attending many glorious Christmas dinners in the Isles under your father’s reign, God rest his and your brothers’ souls. I hope Arendellian hospitality might improve to match it, under yours.”

The king’s lips twitch as he gestures to the Great Hall, full of laughing guests, music, and light. “I’m sure you can see that it already has.” He nods towards his wife, standing by the throne, for emphasis. “Our queen would want nothing less.”

The duke smiles, though there is the hint of a shadow tugging at his lips—the same shadow that the prince has seen all evening, dancing around the outlines of people’s bows and curtsies and obsequious tittering in his presence.

“And for that we are glad,” the ambassador cuts in, eager to redirect the conversation back to his party. The duke, sensing his imminent snubbing, slinks off in the background with a grumble. “She looks astonishingly beautiful tonight, by the way, Your Majesty. Compliments to her dressmaker.” A keen, sharp light slides across the man’s gaze. “You must feel very lucky.”

The king’s smile widens. “She does, doesn’t she? And yes,” he adds, “I can hardly believe my luck, that she would agree to marry such a poor old wretch as I.”

The ambassador and his party laugh at the king’s self-deprecation, if with a note of discomfort.

“Now, what were you saying about Carnival?” the king says, slipping back into the rhythm of the conversation without missing a beat.

The ambassador’s back straightens. “Ah, yes, well—if you’re both free and able to, we’d love to have you come and visit that time of year…”

The king nods along, appearing attentive even as his actual thoughts lie with the queen.

She stands by the throne as if nailed in place, staring ahead with an unreadable expression, speaking only when approached.

At such times, she is all smiles and grace and beauty, and those that come to her do not see – or do not care to see – anything amiss with her, distracted by the din of the ball.

Her husband, knowing better, notices it. However, drawn to the task of entertaining their guests, all he can do is glance at her in between mindless chatter, echoing their admiration of her long white-blue dress.

It shimmers like stalactites seeing the sun after forming during a long winter’s night, and is made of material so fine and unusual that she cannot explain its construction to anyone, except him. The fractal patterns on the dress, resembling snowflakes, reflect on her bare arms and hands, seeming to turn them into extensions of the glowing fabric.

Her crown of white gold with sapphire insets, newly crafted for the occasion, complements the outfit.

His own is a more standard fare, with fleur-de-lis patterns and pure gold in place of any precious stones. It is the crown her father once wore, and with every dip or nod of his head to the guests, he carries its weight with the appearance of ease and comfort, as if he were always meant to wear it.

The dignitaries and courtiers do not miss the opportunity to mention as much, complimenting his “suitability” to his new position, and flattering him with praise for his “storied” naval career.

He hears the words unspoken by each of them, and the suspicion laying just behind their eyes: that he has bewitched the young queen after escaping his homeland under dubious circumstances, with none left to challenge his claims or rights.

The king knows that his slate will never be fully cleared, regardless of his new title. Even so, it is enough for him to see and relish this sycophancy where there was only contempt before, false as the former might be.

To the conqueror of the elusive and mysterious Queen of Arendelle, after all, go the spoils—though the conquering itself was no easy thing, and he had hardly expected it to be, even from the first moment he stepped foot back in Arendelle, one year ago.

»» —— ««

His embrace with the queen at the docks against a lightning-streaked sky was witnessed by nearly everyone of importance, and soon after, news of it spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom and its neighboring countries. He even received a missive from his mad uncle in the Southern Isles, long and rambling, demanding to know what his deceased brother’s youngest son was doing in Arendelle.

He tore the letter up and burnt the scraps in his hand before he had even finished reading it, knowing that no others would follow.

It was thanks in no small part to the queen’s dogged defense of him in the following weeks that he was able to take up permanent residence in Arendelle, and begin his public courtship of her.

The latter became so controversial that the queen was forced to threaten her council that she would remain unmarried for the duration of her reign, like Elizabeth I, unless they accepted him as a suitor. Although this quickly silenced her opposition, the efforts of protecting him drained her, testing the boundaries of her already limited control over her secret powers.

He made sure to always be on hand to reassure her in such moments, caressing her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and melting away any overly conspicuous damage with fiery hands until she was calm again.

The princess, on the other hand, was thrilled: she wept with joy when the queen and prince finally disembarked the gangplank, their hands interlocked and clothes soaked through from the rain. Rushing towards them, she enfolded them in a loving, teary embrace, singing her sister’s praises through sobs.

In return, he continued to play the role of the charming, supportive older brother she had never had, keeping the princess as a close ally in his courtship of her sister. She often surprised him with her cunning in plotting ways for the two to be together, alone, out of sight of castle staff; appreciative of her stratagems, he snuck her chocolate as rewards from the kitchen in thanks, befriending the cooks so that they might slip him the choicest selections.

It was with the princess’s help that he became acquainted with the townspeople outside the castle, and, later, with the other provinces of the country. Although the two young women had been isolated from the outside world for most of their lives, the princess’s rambunctious and sociable personality, once fully unleashed, turned out to be a force of nature all its own.

She was keen on exploring everything that had once been forbidden to her, making the acquaintance of anyone she met along the way, commoner and noble alike. He accompanied her on many such trips, making a show of his friendship with the princess to the common people at markets, ports, and fetes.

To this end, whenever she extolled his virtues to them, he looked appropriately demure or humble, shying away from the excessive acclaim.

These events were as much a demonstration of his serious intentions towards the queen as they were his representing her to her people, as she was still often absent. Living in isolation had had the opposite effect on her from the princess, and the queen was slow to adjust, carefully declining most, but not all, of the invitations to meet citizens outside of weekly petitions at court.

His understanding of her reluctance, and protection of her time, helped him to keep the peace between the two sisters. More to the point, it earned him the confidence of the queen, who came to rely on him in an unofficial advisory capacity on various state matters.

Her trust allowed him to finally utilize the skills and information he had absorbed over his twenty-six years in a manner appropriate to his royal title, even if it rankled her council to know that a foreign prince was so closely involved in their affairs.

She refused to acknowledge her dependence on his guidance when concerns were raised, and if his unsavory reputation was ever questioned in association with it, she equally disavowed such claims as unproven and, therefore, slander against her legitimate (and only) suitor.

The citizens, like the council, were slow in warming to him. Knowing the tales and rumors just as well as those at court – though lacking the tact to not mention them to his face – they regarded his courtship with suspicion and skepticism, and showed him politeness only out of respect for their princess or queen when they were in his company.

It was not until the winter after the coronation that he was, at long last, given the chance to prove himself worthy of their affections.

For reasons unknown to anyone (although the prince had his suspicions), an extraordinarily harsh and bitter winter came to pass—worse than any other in recent memory. With the fjord frozen solid and all overland passages blocked by impenetrable walls of snow, foreign and domestic trade came to a standstill, and the inability to export lumber, fur, and fish crippled the economy.

The queen, thinking herself to be the cause of it, shuttered herself inside of the castle; the prince, meanwhile, seizing the opportunity to make a good name for himself, took to the cobblestoned streets with the princess and the servants.

With blankets and bowls of soup in hand, they distributed supplies to the commoners, making sure to mention with every handshake or nod that it was by the queen’s beneficence that the people were provided for in such hard times. The commoners, seeing him acting on her behalf, came to associate her undeniable goodness with him, thanking him and the princess profusely, often through tears, for their kind gestures.

Eventually, he was even able to coax the queen out of her solitude, and escorted her on several rounds of such do-gooding. Seeing the townspeople so grateful for her rare presence lifted the dark pall which had cast itself over the queen since the start of the season, and with its diminishing, so too did the winter ease.

Taking advantage of her higher spirits, he also convinced the queen that it was the perfect time to start working on controlling her powers. After all, he reasoned, the objections of the council had been quieted, and with the tide of public opinion turning in his favor, there was little left to stop them from exploring the extent of her magic.

At first, they conjured small objects together in the privacy of closed meeting rooms, just as she had done in her childhood: figurines of ballerinas, bears, and unicorns, and everyday items around her room. He matched her ice with his fire to encourage her, and after years spent hiding his own powers, he found that he enjoyed the exercises as much as she did.

Later, when the worst of the winter snows and storms had passed, he told the queen that they should venture outside the castle walls to experiment further with larger, more challenging structures.

She initially refused, afraid that creating anything too large might attract unwanted attention, and doubted their ability to travel to the mountains alone without raising suspicions of improper conduct. He persuaded her by reassuring her that the trips would be disguised as mountain retreats with her sister, and that they would only practice together when the latter was out of sight.

Though still unconvinced, she agreed to the arrangement, making sure that all correct precautions were taken and notices sent to her servants and advisers of where and when and for how long they would be gone.

The princess, ever the eager adventurer, tried to lead the first expedition into the mountains, refusing help; when the party became lost after the first hour of hiking, the prince took over, navigating with maps that the queen had insisted they bring with them for backup.

Eventually they reached a small cabin which doubled as a winter goods store, and made it their encampment. They were met there by an ice harvester and his reindeer companion, sent on the recommendation of the castle’s stable master, and in short order, the gruff, awkward young man was enlisted as their guide for the trip. Being unused to any kind of polite conversation in his profession, much less with royalty, his brusque and blunt manners often led him to locking horns with the princess, as he objected to her naïve worldview.

The prince took advantage of one such confrontation to sneak off with the queen into the woods, urging her to make something grand and beautiful. To his shock, she constructed a cottage made of ice, with detailed snowflake patterns on the trimmings inside, a rocking chair, and a fireplace with a sculpture of a flame in the center.

He lost himself in these details, from the book of Aesop’s fables resting on the table by the chair, to the false wooden beams glinting blue under the sun. It was all the more remarkable for not melting by even one drop for the entire time they spent inside of it, though he was afraid to test the limits of the construction by touching anything directly.

It was only when the queen heard the princess call her name that the cottage’s facade began to crack, her fear causing jagged lines to ripple through the ceiling and floor.

Just as he had when they were in the castle, however, the feeling passed as soon as the prince placed his hand on hers, disappearing her anxiety – and her creation – in a single, slow exhale.

Other trips into the mountains followed the first, and the princess, ever eager to find ways to give the prince and her sister more alone time together, began to bait the iceman into quarrels so that he might be distracted from the other two wandering off.

(The tactic worked for the most part, though the prince noticed that the iceman increasingly shot him suspicious looks after the parties were reunited, and seemed to be catching on to the fact that the princess was provoking him for sport.)

With every second they had alone, another opportunity was born for the queen’s imagination to spark and fly, creating objects of ever-growing complexity and beauty. Her heart was light in such moments, and her smile as bright as the sun, bringing an unseasonable warmth to the mountains and valley below.

His only task at such times was to remind her not to get too ambitious with her magic, and risk it being seen.

Her displeasure with these checks was evident, if brief—for while she was getting more accustomed to her power and more enthralled with what she could build, one look at the princess ensured that she never forgot what she could also destroy.

»» —— ««

The king’s eyes drag over his wife’s elegant, iridescent figure across the room as she speaks to the princess, a rare smile flitting across her lips.

They are painted pink for the evening, just as her cheeks are decorated with a light dusting of blush, and he cannot help but marvel at her loveliness.  

»» —— ««

The prince had dared not make any overt advances towards the queen from the previous summer through mid-winter, other than securing her trust and loyalty. In spite of her remarkable gesture of affection on the day of his scheduled departure following her coronation – and the declaration of his courtship shortly after – he had been careful in how he approached the physical part of their growing intimacy.

The caution had also been purposeful insofar as wanting to keep her waiting, and breathlessly anticipating the moment in which they might finally consummate their growing feelings.

He ensured that it progressed naturally, as if they were young lovers who had met by chance at a ball: first, by holding hands when they were alone together; then, kissing her cold fingers; and, finally, her pink lips.

»» —— ««

A spark of heat shoots through the king’s stomach at the recollection of that first kiss, which now seems like a lifetime ago.

»» —— ««

It was in the library, where they had shared so many other of their private moments, just as the snow began to melt at the end of winter.

She was telling him about a palace of ice that she wanted to scale up from a miniature she had constructed in her childhood, to a full-scale building – and the uninhibited excitement shining in her eyes enchanted him so utterly that he took her hands in his, and kissed her without warning.

The connection was so immediate, and so electric, that he momentarily lost control of his powers, scalding her hands. His profuse apologies were waved off by the queen, who merely chilled her own skin, and then continued their kiss as before, pressing her cool hands to his hot neck.

They shared many more moments like this in the weeks that followed, growing closer and closer until they were fully embracing, allowing their hands to roam over each other’s clothed bodies whenever they were alone.

With each step forward, the prince noted a correlating dip in the queen’s abilities. It was as if their bond represented a third kind of power between them: one that inhibited her magic, and made her more pliable to his affections and influence.

He was not sure, at first, as to the extent to which she was aware of this effect their intimacy had on her. Over time, however, she became quieter, and less inclined towards sharing her innermost thoughts and feelings with him, as she once had.

Sometimes, he would catch her glancing at him with doubt, or even with fear, when she thought he was not looking. Thinking he knew what was in her mind, he would look down at his hands, and promise that he would never hurt her, as he had before; the queen would deny each time that this was the cause of her discomfort or odd looks, claiming that she had been lost in thought about the state of the country, or about some meeting on her agenda.

Eventually, she grew adept at deflecting such questions with a reassuring smile of her own, which, even though he could see through it better than anyone else, tended to have the effect of temporarily disarming him anyway.

By the beginning of spring, his concerns had been allayed enough to take the next – and final – step in making their partnership complete, and proposed to the queen. Knowing her aversion to public displays of any kind, he performed the act in the semi-private area of the rose garden where they had first walked together, many months before, bending on one knee in the proper form.

He presented her with a show of his affections in the form of a rose, shaped from flames, suspending it in the air. In accepting his proposal, the queen froze it over until it was made of ice, symbolizing their union, and kissed him.

In the kiss, he felt the traces of an uneasy tremor on her lips.

She insisted on starting the preparations for their wedding soon afterwards, and though he was pleased with the speed of the arrangement, he could not help but wonder at her urgency.

The same fear he had seen before began to return, little by little, and though he tried to pry further and discover the reason for it, the queen became annoyed or even angry with him on each new attempt. She would only bear the concerns of her sister, and even then, she was not always able to hide her growing disquiet.

The princess assured him that it was just premarital “jitters,” and that her sister would return to her “normal” self once the preparations and ceremony were over and done with. She reminded him of how anxious the queen had been in the lead up to her own coronation, and that a royal wedding – being an event of equal, if not higher importance – was bound to upset the young woman’s already fragile constitution.

It became an exhausting endeavor to placate the queen as the date drew nearer, and she took to her old, bad habits in her nervous spells, pacing her room for hours, icing over the walls, and casting snowdrifts over her bed. In trying to explain her behavior to him, she relied on the princess’s excuse of the council putting so much pressure on her over the wedding preparations, disregarding any other theories he might pose.

To his surprise, however, her erratic mood swings and accompanying loss of control came to an abrupt end the week before their wedding. She began to accept everything that was happening, and would happen, without protest, and the blue in her irises grew duller with each passing day.

Whether he asked her what was wrong, or what she would prefer for this or that aspect of the ceremony, or what type of music she would like to be played at the reception, she gave only cursory, short replies to him with a hazy, distracted expression. Likewise, she returned the prince’s physical gestures, whether in the form of embraces or kisses on her cheek or forehead, with the same, empty smile—or no smile at all.

The wedding followed in a similar fashion, with the queen compliant in all regards, save for the dress, which she had insisted from the beginning be of her own making. Though she looked resplendent in it, and was the envy of every young woman in attendance, she approached the altar with a countenance devoid of any feeling approximate to joy, and spoke her vows in a voice so hollow that it caused him to shudder.

When they kissed to seal their union, her lips did not tremble, nor make any movement at all.

She turned to the crowd with a smile convincing enough to make her sister weep, though it did not fool the iceman sitting next to her, who stared quizzically at the newly-married couple.

He was thus crowned king, and, taking his wife’s cold, limp hand in his own, they descended from the altar, the crowd’s cheers little more than faraway echoes.

»» —— ««

The queen trades a few words with the princess and her iceman before the latter have disappeared into the crowd again, the pair no doubt rebuffed in their invitations to join the dance that is about to start.

Her look is as hard as steel, the same as before, though the king can just make out the hint of something more behind it.

He breaks away from his guests to return to her side when the song begins, offering his hand. “My queen,” he says, bowing, “may I have this dance?”

“No, thank you,” she replies. “I’m quite tired.”

He nods. “Of course. I’ll stay here, with you.”

She does not reply as he stands next to her, and places his hand lightly on the small of her back. When he feels no physical response from the gesture, he turns his eyes back to the dance floor, finding the princess.

The younger woman is dragging the iceman onto the floor, ignoring his protests, and her partner is predictably hopeless in following the rhythm. The onlookers, including the king, chuckle at the scene, causing the commoner to blush from his neck up to his blonde hair, and finally to tear himself away from the princess and console himself by the chocolate fondue fountain.

When he glances at the queen, he is pleasantly surprised to see the faint outline of a smile on her face, though this vanishes as soon as she notices him looking at her.

“Are you enjoying the evening?” he asks anyway, smiling. “It seems like Anna is, even if at Master Bjorgman’s expense.”

His wife finally looks at him fully, unblinking, her eyes traveling from the crown atop his head, down to his hands.

“You’re wearing gloves,” she observes, ignoring his question.

He stifles a swallow. “It’s the least I could do, on such an auspicious day,” he replies, struggling to keep his smile in place. “It would look odd to have bare hands for our wedding, after all.”

Suspicion flashes across her gaze at the answer, but she says nothing, looking back at the dance floor. She watches her sister with something between longing and regret, though the emotions are so fleeting that the king cannot be sure if he saw them at all.

Unnerved, he suddenly takes her hand in his, and kisses the top of it. “You look wonderful, dearest,” he tells her, “and you have made me the happiest man in the world, today.”

He presses her hand, repeating his final vow from the ceremony. “I will always be your devoted servant, and love you until my dying day. You know that, don’t you?”

The queen’s lips part, and she pauses.

“I do. But love… isn’t always good.”

He frowns. “What are you talking about, Elsa?”

She turns back on him with a cold and inscrutable stare, withdrawing her hand from his. “You don’t remember?”

At his puzzled expression, she sighs and closes her eyes, reciting her next line with grim irony.

“And so the boy escaped, and went north, and became a King of another land. He never hurt anyone ever again.”

When her eyes reopen, they are tight, and her nose wrinkles. “It seems like the boy got everything he ever wanted,” she says with a pained smile, “but I don’t think that last part is really true.”

The king pales, and he is as silent as the grave.

“Elsa…”

Her smile becomes vacant as she places her hands in front of her, and turns her attention back to the crowd. Without hesitation, she descends the stairs to join her guests on the main floor, and matches the beat of a new song with her fingers, tapping them along the sides of her dress.

With each tap, the air grows a little colder in the room.

#QueenoftheAshesFrozen #frozen #frozen fanfiction #helsa

[shinygoku]

Thunderbirds (2004)

A review by me, CutCat! This is 8-ish pages long!

Spoiler for the end of the film warning: Alan is in International Rescue. What a twist!

Totally Turbulent

Soooo, Tbirds ‘04 is one of those Infamous Adaptations, at least among those who enjoyed Thunderbirds (’65) and of more recent times, Thunderbirds are Go (’15). It’s one of those Bad Live Action Adaptations to a near sacred property, making it dubious contemporaries with Dragon Ball [Evolution], Avatar [The Last Airbender] and suchlike.

But wait, is it really That Bad?? Why is it as divisive as it is? What caused the film to be the way it is, and quite unpopular at that?

First I’m gonna make a long story very short by saying that a Live Action Thunderbirds movie was on and off production for many years, and that the script we ended up with is apparently better than another one that was pitched... but there are reports of cooler scripts further back that never made it, for various reasons. It’s almost a story of it’s own right but I’m only going by 2nd hand information at best, so I’d rather just link them at the end for Additional Reading if y’all felt so inclined.

With that out of the way, we have the Takes from the Andersons to look at. Sylvia had a very favourable reception to it:

"I felt that I'd been on a wonderful Thunderbirds adventure. You, the fans, will I'm sure, appreciate the sensitive adaptation and I'm personally thrilled that the production team have paid us the great compliment of bringing to life our original concept for the big screen. If we had made it ourselves (and we have had over 30 years to do it!) we could not have improved on this new version. It is a great tribute to the original creative team who inspired the movie all those years ago. It was a personal thrill for me to see my characters come to life on the big screen."

Whereas Gerry had a considerably blunter response at the opposite end of the scale:

"the biggest load of crap I have ever seen in my entire life."

As for me, a mere fan of predominantly the TAG series with limited but fond memories of the 90’s TOS reruns, I’d been inclined to ignore it and write it off as a DBE or TLA lost cause. But the combined effect of me deciding to check out unpopular media for myself, namely Dragon Ball GT and the live action Super Mario Bros. movie, and thoroughly enjoying both; and the other effect of TAG finishing but my fixation reawakening with the need to consume More, I dived deeper into the fan base than I had dared to before, in which I found more reasons to watch it and make up my own mind fairly.

Find out what I thought, and a review of the movie itself, below the Cut! ✂

Stormy Story

Ok, enough teasing, I see good things in the movie but not enough for it to be a secret masterpiece, not by a long shot.

1/3 Stars from Me. That’s Poor. (Compare with 2/3 being Good, and 3/3 being Excellent)

My main beef is unfortunately kinda the crux of the whole story, so while there were aspects I really liked, it had permanently set the bar low, and other issues were not helping matters. I’ll go into the problems after I sum up the plot.

[sitcom harp music]

14 Year Old Alan Tracy is stuck in a stuffy school with only his nerd friend to confide in. Something’s eating him up, and it’s jealousy over how his family are International Rescue, the secret rescue workers whole pilot the Thunderbirds, impossibly cool craft with capabilities vastly exceeding standard technology. Even when he’s allowed out of school and back to the Island, his envy and barely repressed resentment over not being a member himself causes him to go off and sulk and to try taking Thunderbird 1, the hypersonic jet plane, for a joyride.

His father and the leader of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy chews Alan out for almost compromising the need for the organisation to remain secret, lest their advanced technology falling into the wrong hands. Alas, said wrong hands are already working against IR: The Hood, a diabolical, cold blooded criminal with psychic powers and a grudge against Jeff. After successfully tracking the location of Tracy Island, he launches a missile towards Thunderbird 5, the Space Station where IR monitor potential disasters to prevent as much damage as possible, manned by John Tracy.

With TB5 crippled and John injured, Jeff and his other three older sons all scramble to the disaster zone via Thunderbird 3, the Rocket Ship. But with Tracy Island largely unmanned, The Hood moves in and aims to use the Thunderbirds to rob bank vaults while simultaneously smearing International Rescue’s good name. As the only Tracy brother left on Earth, it’s up to Alan and his 2 friends, Fermat and Tin-Tin, to foil the Hood and save his family, proving himself worthy in the process. He is also assisted by IR’s London Agent, Lady Penelope, and her driver/butler/lockpicker, Parker.

...

Ok, so that’s a summary you may read on the back of a DVD box, maybe it’s a bit long but whatever. Do you see what’s wrong with the story? The massive rift in the formula that should be within a template set by the hugely popular TV Series?

Critical Crux

For me, the main issue with the movie is that the Tracy family are thrown under a bus, or perhaps it’s more like being locked in a closet, in order for Alan to rise up and be The Hero. A show that was about each of them having different roles and personalities to the others, and the movie sees the best way to adapt the premise is to reduce 3 of them to cardboard cutouts who aren’t allowed to do or say anything meaningful, with the exception to this getting the dubious honour of getting a missile and exploding space station to the face.

I can’t clearly express how much this pisses me off! It’s downright insulting and baffling as well. They had pre established characters right there for the taking but go NO! Let’s make OCs to fill this newly created void instead and make the main Message of the film Friendship Teamwork.

Why does every child-skewed media hafta have the Friendship message? It’s a good one, sure, but nothing said in this film about it was fresh or original. Y’know what I see far, far less? Not just in Kid Flavoured Media, but all sorts? The importance of Brotherly Bonds between actual brothers!! I don’t subscribe to the massively misunderstood message version of ‘Blood is thicker than water’, but a story with the siblings actually pushed and stressed and coming out stronger at the end would have ruled!!

[For what it’s worth, the actual saying is “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”, i.e. the bonds you choose to forge are more important than happening to be born to certain people. This correct message is still compatible with literal siblings though!]

The other, somewhat lesser Large Issue with the movie is simply that we don’t see much in the way of Rescues with the titular Thunderbirds. We only get the tail end of the Oil Rig in Act 1, and then the ‘Birds are used predominantly to get to London and save 1 Monorail Car with TB4.

Watsonian Woes & Doylist Dilemma

When looking at Media, there’s 2 main angles to consider; Doylist and Watsonian. Doylist is the “real life / meta” angle, the structure of the story or interests of the author being in the plot, that kinda thing. Watsonian is the reason given within the story.

All stories have Watsonian and Doylist reasonings, the trick is to blend them in and not use a weedy Watsonian reason for something stupid happening.

Why bring this up? Because it’s still part of the Huge Problem I have with the film; the Doylist reason for all of IR being incapacitated so easily is so Alan can shine without fighting for focus in a large group. I don’t like it, but let’s go along with it for now.

Believe it or not, but I can accept that a Movie format isn’t going to be the same as an ongoing series. There’s way less time and you gotta hit certain beats. Ideally you also condense the essence of the show into the film while being more than just a long episode. They didn’t hit this note in my opinion...

But other than ‘It has to happen for he story to work’, there’s no damn reason for all the Non-Alan Tracys to be cooped up in the crippled TB5! They put all their eggs into one basket when a considerably more sensible choice woulda been to have a small crew, and the others remain on base. Because even without factoring in a worst case scenario where another missile hits them while in space, killing them all, which totally could have happened for all they know, there’s also the part about them being International Rescue! They gotta be ready to respond to other disasters should those develop. TB1, 2 and 4 were still available for use!

If I was Jeff making the boneheaded decision, I would have taken a second to think about it and have 1 of the Bros come up in 3 with me. Seeing to John shouldn’t be something 4 people are needed for, it would just get more crowded and the oxygen would be used way faster! Considering they all come close to asphyxiating, 2 less people would mean things weren’t so damn close to the wire! (Granted, the movie also has them falling into Earth’s atmosphere and burning up as a hazard, but the whole crew being there doesn’t affect that.)

Jeff! You’re the patriarch and supposedly most experienced dude in the whole movie! Why didja run into that trap with both eyes open? Stressful situation, sure, but in the Rescue Business you need to be able to listen to the cold, clinical angle. You’re risking more of your sons’ lives making such a rash judgement!!

Character Conundrums

This is the part of the review where I begin to really emphasise the differences between TOS and this movie. I’ll hold off TAG for now in the interest of fairness.

The movie is a mixed bag when it comes to the individuals within it. Some have been refreshing updates to stuffy 60′s tropes, but several draw the short straw, feeling even stiffer than their marionette precursors.

Alan - Hoo, boy. The plot follows Alan.... for the third time if you’re factoring in the Supermarionation movies, which was quite the baffling choice as Puppet!Alan is quite the obnoxious jerk. But whatever, new movie, new canon, new Alan. While the Alan of the 60′s was a bizarrely whiny brat of a character considering he was supposed to at least be in his early 20′s this Alan at least makes more sense to be annoying. But yes, he starts off as a sullen jerk with unclearly defined jealousy towards his own brothers and seemingly a lack of grasping the stakes behind International Rescue, viewing being one of the crew as a Cool Job rather than a gruelling, life-risking ordeal. Over the course of the movie (mostly Act 3) he becomes less of a berk and a better team player, even going as far as to save the Hood personally.

Jeff - One of the stronger characters in the movie, even with this poor choice I’ve gone on about already, haha. You get the real impression the job means the world to him, but still secondary to his sons. An update and improvement to the sometimes stodgy and holier-than-thou character from the 60′s, plus his proactive role makes him way less of a backseat driver.

Lady Penelope - Best character and a splendid update to the 60′s Socialite. This Penny is always a delight to see, although her ability to change clothes offscreen sometimes pushes plausibility, haha. She and Jeff also have very natural and endearing chemistry, so for this iteration at least, I’m up for shipping them, something I can’t say for TOS.

Parker - Remarkably true to the beloved puppet version and another highlight. His interplay with Penelope is some of the best dialogue in the whole movie, and was written by Richard Curtis in an uncredited role, or so I’ve read.

The Hood - A shockingly sadistic and cold blooded so-and-so. His Psychic powers have been given a huge boost, and the depths of his spite generates all the tense scenes the movie has to offer. His performance may be the best in the whole film, simultaneously over the top while also completely deadly.

Tin-Tin - Y’know, Tin-Tin is a funny character, in how she’s very different in all versions. I enjoy her in TOS, but her potential as an engineering assistant, mathematician and member of IR are quickly discarded to make her a secretary, which is further demoted to bringing coffee. Ahh, The Sixties! One of her other defining features was the sometimes bickering sexual tension with Alan. Movie!Tin-Tin is still the implied love interest [and the same age] with him, but she’s also an Action Girl extraordinaire, with abilities bordering on metahuman. She can trek through the jungle without slowing down, she can dive underwater for prolonged sequences, and has a variation of her Evil Uncle’s Psychic capabilities, but used for good. Notably, the Kayo of TAG takes significantly more from this Tin-Tin to the original, sadly sans Telekinesis.

Fermat - The only OC I’m gonna dignify with a section here lol. He’s basically mini-Brains, complete with the way he t-ta-tal- -distinctive speech patterns. But yeah, as the hypersmart and nerdy pal, I feel that his role is pretty superfluous, though his performance in the movie got me to soften up, he’s a good kid. Just one who, like, is part of the deal breaking issue I have with the whole film. In a way I think he’d have made a better lead than Alan lmao

Brains - Not much to say here, he’s also a dude in distress for a majority of his screentime. Seems to be older than his TOS self and a bit less subservient to Jeff, but also a father ....or Fermat is his clone. They never make that clear. He’s hit on by the Hood’s Female Scientist and it’s played for comedy, more on that later.

John - In TOS, his role was infamously minimal, as Gerry Anderson took such a strong disliking to the John puppet and the TB5 model that he exiled both into space with a few token shots per episode. So in comparison, this movie is far kinder to John! He has a nice, genuine chat with Jeff, without any mission to initiate said videocall. The movie is also quite mean to John in how he gets bombed by the Hood, his space station in tatters, his arm hurt and then near suffocation with Jeff and most of his brothers. Ahh, the conundrum of being John.

Scott, Virgil and Gordon - No, they don’t even get their own paragraphs in my review. Their lack of presence and importance in the movie is my giant gripe (have you noticed yet?) and it got to the extent that I feel they could have been combined into one character to save casting money. They get maybe 5 lines each, if that. I literally can’t tell Scott and Virgil apart (I know they have name tags on their uniforms, but in most scenes I couldn’t even read that) other than knowing 1 of them is taller. Which that one is, is a mystery.

The only one with a slightly distinctive appearance and air is Gordon, which is another can of worms because he seems to be the designated Doubtful Jerk Brother and that drives me mad!! In TOS he wasn’t as main a character as Scott, Virgil or Alan, but he was still a defined person with his own abilities. And his personality was as a slightly mouthy but the most lighthearted character! Why didn’t they carry that over?!

And yeah, Scott and Virgil are pretty much the Main Two of the brothers in TOS, so their roles being reduced to 1 token act during the oil rig rescue each [Gordon didn’t even get that!] is all the more mind boggling.

Hood’s Minions - Can’t be assed to write their names out, I refer to them as Heavy Dude and Science Woman. Heavy Dude is the Heavy, and his character consists of Dumb and somewhat Sadistic Muscle. Science Woman is first objectified (we see her ass first. Yes, really.) but then it’s ‘revealed’ that as she has Austin Powers level teeth, she’s uuuuuglyyyyy and her otherwise genuine attraction towards Brains is played for laughs with this angle. And that’s still female on male sexual harassment, which doesn’t fly with me. Eeeesh. Bad writing! She does Science Things for Hood.

The Rest - Kyrano and his wife are in this. Wife is Original but basically Grandma’s role, though she doesn’t even get a single word to say. Rip. Also the Hood has a few more generic mooks from somewhere, but seemingly only for part of the movie. Kyrano didn’t do much in the show except get bullied by the Hood and little has changed.

Tone Trouble

I feel like the movie has a bit of an issue with balancing a consistent Tone. Again, let’s look back at TOS. It was a Family Show, designed to not just appeal to little kids, but to also keep their parent and other adult amused. Maybe some of it was also the result of the times, but striking to me is that they allowed the characters to get pretty hurt, complete with red paint being applied to look like realistic blood. Some of the criminals, including the Hood himself, would be very vicious, how he treats Brains in Desperate Intruder comes to mind. There was even firefights resulting in death, like the memorable climax of Operation Crash-Dive, where Gordon has to shoot a saboteur in the back, into the open sea below the compromised plane. He then proceeds to hold the cut wires together with his bare hands. Don’t try this at home, kids!

So while I can understand some of that being removed from the Movie (and TAG), there’s still the irritating going down to a perceived kid’s level for the majority of the film, which is probably also a large reason for the massive structural change. But then, there’s shockingly dark implications here and there, and the haunting sight of the crew trapped on TB5 floating lifelessly in the dark, asphyxiating. But then, again, we have goofy choreographed fight scenes with juvenile stock cartoon sounds. And then, we have Hood force choking Alan?! It has been mostly consistent until Act 3, then the tone goes up and down more than the flying machines.

Revamped Rockets

I’m mostly talking about the main craft here, though I know the Pod vehicles got modified too, I’m not sufficiently a TOS Pod Buff to go over them.

TB1 - Looks real nice! Maintains and even enhances the sleekness, and the idea of a glass cockpit is much better than having 1 tiny window and a dinky TV screen to see by. Oddly dark inside the cockpit considering how much glass there is, though. Probably my fav of the Movie Fleet.

TB2 - Oof. Looks bad, man. Like, really ugly. What have they done to the glorious design that was the Original Big Green? The unofficial mascot from her importance and unorthodox style? They turned her into a stubby, too glossy, chunky bar of green soap. The thick ass legs are a good idea but it sure ain’t enough. Also, she carries 3 smaller pods insteada 1 big one.

TB3 - Like TB1, pretty much the same design but streamlined a little. Docks with 5 sidewise instead of like pen going into its lid.

TB4 - I’m mixed. I like the idea of giving her a glass canopy and extendable arms, but the movie’s version is so boxy she looks more like a small yellow Greenhouse with the rear half of the old Four, haha. The arms also look a little stiff, can they bend? Now, if there was a sleek, glass hulled, variable armed, demolition charges-loaded Four, that would be my favourite possible version ;3 Four is my fav craft in TOS and TAG, for what it’s worth.

TB5 - I say it’s quite a visual improvement over TOS and the odds and ends jumbled look that had, though I do appreciate a bit of Chunkiness. This one really needs to have better defence too, TOS 5 may’ve been able to tank that missile lmao

FAB1 - I know that she would have been a Rolls Royce in the film, but BMW said no, so that’s not a point against the movie. And failing the classic image, it’s cute that it’s a Ford Thunderbird, though I’d have preferred one with those 50′s/60′s stylish fins personally lol. Her ability to fly is new here unless you count the Dream Sequence in Are Go (’66) and the water mode was also seen in that before this, and she gets the job done, though we don’t get to see as many gadgets and gizmos in the course of the film.

Unlikely Uniforms

I really don’t understand these. Why are they off white with minimal accent colours? What was wrong with the blueness of their suits and the broad stripe of a secondary colour? I sure ain’t saying the 60’s costumes were practical or even that fashionable, but they were very distinctive and striking!

Not only that, but for some strange unexplained reason, their uniforms all correspond not to their own speciality, but to which craft they’re currently piloting. Even if they’re all in the same Bird...! So like, four out of five are wearing identical looking red accented suits while locked in TB5. I already find the elder brothers to be the Similar Squad, and their microscopic name tags don’t help!

Why don’t they wear their own coloured uniforms all the time? Then ya don’t need the name tag at all! And the silly implication from the way there’s apparently a whole set of Craft Specific uniforms is that there’s piles of clothes that ain’t getting used in all of them, like the tiny TB4 probably having 6 whole sets on board at the end of the film.

Between that, no blue and the outfits looking like Generic Sports Wear, the only nice thing to say is the THUNDERBIRDS down the sleeve is a cool touch. Which should really say International Rescue or IR...

Mingled Misc.

Yeah, The conflation of Thunderbirds and International Rescue is a tad irritating but it’s actually something I can overlook. It’s not a dealbreaker and it makes sense the Dumbass Public would misunderstand and call them the wrong thing.

Jeff refuses Alan early access into IR and cites “No shortcuts”. Then at the end he echoes this when he is making Alan an official member, saying he did it with no shortcuts. The whole faffing scenario was a giant shortcut!!! Fuck training and being a suitable age, am I right?!

Amazingly I didn’t cover this already, but when Alan shortcuts his way onto the team he’s made pilot of ... TB4. That’s why he’s in yellow accents in the pic. Gordon is seemingly the main pilot of TB3 instead, but the movie doesn’t deign to make that clear. While I appreciate that the 14 year old with no Astronaut training isn’t put in charge of 3 instantly, I resent the careless removal of characterisation. Obviously movie Gordon never served with WASP or won the gold medal in swimming or had a massive hydrofoil crash to nearly kill him but ggggghgggaaahhhhhhhhh

Also what’s with the implication that Four is the Babby’s First Machine? She’s a highly specialised craft that would require different training to flying or Space shit! How dare you?! The most charitable link is that Alan stood around in 4 as Tin-Tin did most of the work herself, but I guess it coulda as some level of experience.

Ford Sponsorship - Gets a bit much! It’s one thing for all the cars to be Ford, but them seemingly owning the News is like an unpleasant look into a world where corporations run everything.... hahahaahaaaaaa........

Marvellous Music

Something the movie really excells at is the tunes! The remix of the Thunderbirds March is good in it’s own right and very welcome, and the new music is all solid. Special mention to Busted’s outro song for slapping so hard even people who hate the movie leave warm youtube comments about the song. I have a habit of listening to it set to TAG footage myself, haha

Sincere Summation

Look, I’ve come off negative in this, but I honestly have a lot of respect for a lot of the parts of this picture. Hood, Penelope, Parker and Jeff are fantastic, the physical models and sets have a lot of care and loving detail poured in, the music is all bangers and other little nods and homages to the show shine brightly. The director got a lot of good work in and I hold him no ill will.

I think the problem is in the Writing and probably Studio Mandates, I’m not 100% sure, but things often get snaggy when the studio you’re working under gets bought out by a bigger company partway through. Again, I’ll refer to the info I’ve seen instead of trying to relay it in my own words.

And they made a real bad call snubbing Gerry as a Creative Consultant. Some of his venom towards the film may be from that, as well as his alleged preference to Team America: World Police as a theatrical homage. And I’ve seen that before and wouldn’t really say that’s true to the spirit of Thunderbirds, but yeah...

I’d be interested in any future Thunderbirds Movies, if that’s ever on the cards again. I’d probably be even more up for continuation of the TAG series, or newer new Captain Scarlet with International Rescue involved. Either way, I want new footage of the Birds taking off again, be it puppet, people, CGI, or something new~

Extra Reading

https://securityhazard.net/2017/05/19/thunderbirds-2004/ Full movie review, warm reception. Contains photos of set pieces and costumes.

http://groovyfokker.blogspot.com/2013/02/thunderbirds-arent-go-unfilmed-versions.html Insight into some of the past issues developing a Movie, but gets some basic information wrong (Since when is Gordon the youngest and TB3 orange??)

Thanks if ya’ve been reading the whole thing! <3

#Thunderbirds 2004 #Thunderbirds #Thunderbirds TOS #Thunderbirds Movie #Movie Review #can't really tag it with TAG because I deliberately kept that minimal lol #I care so much about Tbirds so I had much to say #I hope the links don't mess up it appearing in the tags :v

[just-a-spark]

The Before, and The After Part 13

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (18+ to be safe)

Series Masterlist

Summery: A wealthy classmate of Meg’s becomes close to the family, a little too close to the playboy grandson of Harlan Thrombey. The events leading up to, and following, Harlan Thrombey’s death.

Eliza

Ransom couldn’t look away from the woman in the front row behind the Prosecutor. Her husband glared at him as he stared at the redhead, but Ransom needed her to look at him again. He needed to memories the look of her face one more time before he spent the rest of his life behind bars.

“Hugh, I’m going to need you to focus.” His lawyer hissed as he was situated next to her. She pushed her hair behind her ear, leaning in, “Don’t give them any more ammunition, this is already an impossible case.”

Ransom swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he looked to the side, unable to hide his interest in the woman. She looked so pregnant, and she looked so scared. Was she scared of him? Did the idea of him hurting her cross her mind?

Ransom shook the thoughts away and looked forward as the bailiff told everyone to rise for the judge. The older woman swept in and sat, and everyone followed suit. He was in a daze, preparing himself to have all his indiscretions aired out in front of the jury. He knew he shouldn’t look so distracted, but he knew what his lawyer knew: he would be found guilty. Despite Stephanie’s best efforts, he killed Fran and he tried to kill Harlan and he tried to kill Marta and there was no wiggling his way out because they had his confession.

“How do you plead?”

“Not guilty Your Honor.” Stephanie said firmly and Ransom saw Phil snort out of the corner of his eye.

“Very well then.” The woman grumbled, clearly hoping the defense wouldn’t waste her time with a pointless trial, “We shall proceed.”

After that Ransom tuned out everything said, occasionally lifting his head higher when he heard his name. As Phillip made his opening statements, Ransom held his gaze with a sorrowful, guilty expression. He didn’t feel guilt over his charges though, he felt guilty over not saving Eliza from this schmuck.

Lieutenant Elliott took the stand first, followed by Richard, who had never said such nice things about Ransom before in his life. It made Ransom wonder if Richard really thought that or if he just needed his son out of prison so he wouldn’t be alone. Ransom’s mother was nowhere to be seen or heard from.

Alan was painfully honest in his opinions on the stand, going into detail about the will reading and Ransom’s departure with Marta. All the while, his defense let the Prosecutor rip Ransom’s reputation to shreds, unable to find a bright side in their accounts.

By the time Benoit Blanc took the stand, Ransom wished he had plead guilty from the start. It would have made this day end faster.

“Mr. Blanc, you were hired by Hugh Drysdale to investigate the murder of Harlan Thrombey’s death, correct?” Phil asked, pacing slightly in front of the judge.

“Yes, sir. That is correct. I did not know that at the time of my hiring though. I was hired anonymously.” Blanc replied, leaning back in his chair, eyes following the lawyer as he paced.

“And you found evidence that Mr. Drysdale attempted to murder his grandfather?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You were also in the room when Mr. Drysdale attempted to stab Miss Cabrera with this knife?” Phillip gestured toward the prop knife that was brought out for evidence.

“Yes. After confessing to the housekeeper’s murder he attempted to... attack Miss Cabrera out of rage.” Blanc said easily, unafraid to throw Ransom’s ass under the bus.

Ransom’s foot tapped against the hard floor anxiously, and his lawyer whacked his thigh to get him to stop. She shot him a dirty look and he stiffened, a child chastised for being a distraction to the class.

Phillip nodded and smiled at Blanc, then turned to the judge confidently, “No further questions your honor.”

Stephanie stood and smoothed down her blazer jacket over her high waisted trousers as she approached the stand. Her heels clicked lightly as she practically coasted over to Benoit Blanc, studying him with a smile, “Detective Blanc, let me just start by saying it is an honor to meet you.”

Blanc smiled a little, “Thank you.”

“Now, I have to ask, why exactly do you think my client would murder his own grandfather?”

Blanc bounced his head back and forth a little, “He was cut out of the will and he wanted the will reverted back to it’s prior form.”

“Alright, that makes sense, but why kill his grandfather? Harlan Thrombey wasn’t sick, as far as we know, so why, in your professional opinion, would he kill him now? Could Mr. Drysdale not simply try to get back into his grandfather’s good graces before he passed away?”

“Because if Miss Cabrera was the reason for Harlan Thrombey’s death, the Slayer Rule would not allow her to get the inheritance, so the old will would still stand.” Blanc explained easily and Ransom contemplated jumping out of his seat and screaming ‘I’m Guilty!’ at the jury.

“Your Honor, allow me to speculate as a lead in to my next question,” She paused and the judge gestured for her to continue, “This motive fits not only my client, but the entire Thromby family. However, wouldn’t an easier explanation be that Miss Cabrera found out that Harlan was leaving her everything and decided to off him early, to ensure he can’t change his mind?”

“Objection, Your Honor” Phillip called, “Conjecture!”

“Sustained, Miss Thompson you are on thin ice. Get back on track.” The judge warned and Stephanie and she lifted her hands as an apology, turning back to Blanc.

“Harlan Thrombey’s death was ruled a suicide. Please tell the jury how you know Fran the housekeepers death wasn’t?”

“She died of a morphine overdose. She told Marta it was Mr. Drysdale when Marta arrived and called the authorities.” Blanc explained slowly, a small grin growing on his face, “She was very specific about who did this to her.”

Stephanie nodded, holding her chin, “And who told you what she said?”

“Miss Cabrera.”

“Was anyone else there?”

“No. Miss Cabrera asked me to wait in the car while she went in to pick something up. Afterwards she explained to me that she received a blackmail email telling her to go there. I came in once I saw the authorities arriving on the scene.”

Stephanie smirked, “So, just to be clear, the only person who heard Fran say it was Mr. Drysdale was Marta Cabrera? The woman who just inherited Harlan Thrombey’s estate?”

“Yes, but-”

“How can you be certain that Marta didn’t kill the woman?”

“Objection!” Phil called, but this time, the judge tilted her head toward Blanc, curiosity written across her face.

“Overruled. Please answer Miss Thompson’s question Detective Blanc.”

“Marta has, uh, an interesting condition. See, when Miss Cabrera lies, she tends to... expel the contents of her stomach.” Blanc drawled and Stephanie stifled her laugh.

“So she vomits when she lies? That is how you know she’s telling the truth?” Stephanie asked incredulously as the jury began to murmur to themselves. “Tell me, who’s medical bag was found on the scene of the crime?”

“Well, Marta’s but-”

“And who’s morphine was administered?”

“Marta’s-”

Stephanie looked toward the jury and took a deep breath, not looking back as she asked, “And who’s prints were on the bag and syringe?”

Blanc paled a bit, but he kept his eyes trained on the ebony haired lawyer as he answered truthfully, “Miss Cabrera’s fingerprints were on the equipment, because it is hers. It does not mean she committed any crime.”

“But you have no finger prints condemning my client to the crime either then, do you?” Stephanie challenged and Phil yelled objection again.

“Overruled.” The judge said, narrowing her eyes at Stephanie, “You’re causing quite a stir, Miss Thompson. Wrap up your questions, or I’ll start siding with Mr. Stevens.”

“I only have one question left.” Stephanie said, turning back to Blanc with a confident smile that Ransom didn’t think belonged on her face. “Do you have any sort of proof that Hugh Drysdale murdered that woman?”

“Why yes, I do. Mr. Drysdale was being recorded when he threatened Miss Cabrera and admitted to his crimes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, just one more question-” Stephanie put her index finger up to the judge, “Did he, or did he not make said confession under the assumption the housekeeper was alive?”

“Objection! Relevance!” Phil called and the judge and she responded with ‘sustained’, eyeing Stephanie as she grinned.

“No further questions.” She said proudly and turned on her heels, heading back to her seat.

Phil stood and approached the judge as Blanc was allowed off the stand, “Your honor, I’d like to request a brief recess.”

“Request granted.” The judge said quickly, pounding her gavel and allowing the lawyers to take a break. The air was heavy in the courtroom as Miss Thompson took a seat next to Ransom and pulled a granola bar out of her briefcase.

“I’m impressed.” Ransom told her quietly, looking over his shoulder to see Eliza speaking with Blanc, “You almost made a viable case for my freedom.”

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” She hummed, taking another bite.

Ransom sighed, looking over at Eliza again. For a brief second, her eyes landed on his and she averted her gaze. “They’ll play my confession and it’s over. But I appreciate your efforts.”

“Don’t give up so quickly, Ransom. The trial isn’t over yet.” Stephanie promised as she stood to leave, and the guards reappeared to make sure Ransom didn’t make a run for it.

He rubbed his wrists together, feeling the phantom pull of the handcuffs he had to wear on the ride over from the prison. There was special place in hell for men who tried to murder their family, and Ransom wondered if it was filled with good intentions.

He told himself he’d done it for Eliza. He wanted to take her away and keep her for himself. With what he deserved of the inheritance, they would have been set for years, living comfortably as they traveled the world. Ransom wanted to provide for her, keep her comfortable, and make her feel loved.

At least that’s what he told himself in an effort to feel justified, but he knew in his heart he was angry and greedy and no amount of love or devotion could make him as happy as a thick stack of cash.

Stephanie reappeared and sat down beside Ransom, reaching down and grabbing his knee as his foot began to tap, “We’re on the home stretch.”

Ransom huffed and clenched his teeth, looking over his shoulder to Eliza again. This time though, she was looking at him too. She had a sad smile on her face, but she gave him a small wave, and he opened his mouth to say something until the bailiff announced that court was back in session.

“I’d like to call Marta Cabrera to the stand.” Phil said confidently and Marta was ushered into the room. She sat down and swallowed hard. Despite swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, Trooper Wagner approached the stand with a garbage can just in case.

“Miss Cabrera, did Mr. Drysdale try to kill you?” Phil asked simply as the crowd murmured.

“Yes. But the knife he used wasn’t real. It was a prop.” Marta said simply.

“Were you present when he admitted to the housekeeper’s murder?”

“Yes.” Marta said simply, meeting Ransom’s eyes for the first time since he was taken away in the police cruiser. “I told him Fran was alive, so he admitted to everything, because he knew she would tell everyone he gave her the morphine.”

Phil nodded slowly, “Why did you lie to him?”

Marta opened her mouth, organizing her thoughts before she stated, “Because I knew he would lie to save himself. If he knew he was about to be caught, he would tell the truth. Why would he admit to a murder he did not commit?”

The crowd and jury murmured at her answer and the judge pounded her gavel to silence them.

Phil smiled grandly, then turned to the judge, “Your Honor, I’d like Exhibit C to be entered into evidence. This is the audio confession taken by Lieutenant Elliott the day of Hugh Drysdale’s arrest.”

The clerk hit a button on their computer and a crackle began, followed by a deep man’s voice narrating a story. Phil looked to the clerk in confusion and they shrugged, looking to the judge and the bailiff questioningly, “This is the evidence Your Honor.”

“That’s not right though.” Phillip said, scrambling over to his table to open his briefcase, “Your Honor, I’m unsure of what has happened, I have a backup copy of the audio file if you’ll allow me to play it.”

“Go ahead. I’m curious about this confession that over half of our witnesses have talked about.” The judge said, allowing Phil to hand over the CD he’d kept as a backup.

Ransom looked to his lawyer, but she just looked ahead with a confident smile on her face, not even blinking as Phil began to play the new CD.

The same voice narrated, “And in a world of a thousand knives, they just couldn’t find the one they were looking for...”

“Your Honor, is this an audio book?” Stephanie stood and questioned, staring at Phil in disbelief, “Is this some kind of a joke?”

“It’s A Thousand Knives! It’s one of Harlan’s stories!” Trooper Wagner yelled with a grin from the place he was standing near the door and everyone began to talk over one another.

The judge pounded her gavel, “Order! Order in the court! Mr. Stevens, what is the meaning of this?”

“I don’t know, I listened to this just last night, I don’t know how this could happen!” He scrambled, wandering over to the clerk as the book played.

Ransom looked to his lawyer as she stared at the judge in exasperation. “Your Honor, we request a mistrial. The prosecutor has no evidence against my client, and his witness admitted this so called confession was made under false pretenses! There’s not even a confession to prove his confession!”

Suddenly the audio book cut off and all the jury heard was Ransom saying “In for a penny” before the audio cut out.

He grinned like a madman as the judge pounded her gavel, granting the mistrial and ordering the guards to escort Ransom back to prison to await further options for his case.

[comicteaparty]

February 17th-February 23rd, 2020 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from February 17th, 2020 to February 23rd, 2020.  The chat focused on Crossed Wires by Iris Jay.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Crossed Wires by Iris Jay~! (http://crossedwires.irisjay.net/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace until February 23rd, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Discussions are freeform, but we do offer discussion prompts in the pins for those who’d like to have them. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic!

Whether you finish the comic or can only read a few pages, everyone is welcome to join and chat with us!

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 1

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic?

2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)?

3. Who is your favorite character?

4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most?

5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it!

6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores?

7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content?

8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

Alex_makes_comics

Just started on this comic. It's highly addictive. The art is super expressive ( I am always really jealous of people who can use dot shading effectively), and the story is fast paced. It keeps you turning pages. I did not see the twist of the vr helmet coming at all and I love that. I love thinking I am reading one thing and then finding out I am reading something else. It suddenly made the character design choice of having a dragon samurai as the MC so much more understandable. This choice was fun to begin with, but it so much more perfect when you realise it's an avatar. I'm only on page 25 and I have to get back to work,so it's early days yet for a favourite character. So far, I'm just annoyed at all the characters for talking in class

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

I made it through the comic, and it was a really fun read! I like how the mechanics of the universe embellish the concept of hacking without... making it "unrealistic"? Like, I often see hacking portrayed in media as just typing gibberish code and saying "i'm in", which is generally pretty silly. What Crossed Wires does is turns hacking into essentially real-world heists, where you need disguises and acting and people watching your back. Sword fights aside, that's actually way closer to how hacking actually works (like, it's easier to get someone to tell you their password than to crack the password database). My absolute favorite example of this is the ending of Chapter 02 (which is also my favorite scene of the comic). Michael has been built up as this absolute dirtbag, and the number of creeps he somehow has following him has made him nigh-unbeatable. I'm not going to spoil exactly how the gang gets to him in the end, but watching him get beaten down was one of the most satisfying things I've ever seen in a comic.

RebelVampire

I agree that story wise, the way it handles hacking is really unique. Which tbf to TV, real hacking is generally actually very boring. And as @snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights) says, there's actually easier ways like just getting someone to tell you their password that are way easier. In real life, even, the first thing companies who are hired to test another company's security do is just show up in person and try to trick their way past people. People are really the worst enemy of all security. But anyway, even though it's a bit weird, I definitely think turning hacking into this real life VR experience is unique while capturing the real life flaws that humans create for security ventures. I also like that the beginning really just starts right up with this premise without taking like 20 pages to exposition. Just gotta accept a fighting dragon, which works really well in this case.(edited)

My favorite moment in the comic so far is actually probably the one morning chat between Cass and VRRMN where they have a serious talk about their relationship and the future. I actually like that their relationship is built on the point that sorry isn't enough, and that while you can see VRRMN's sincerity, you can also justifiably see why Cass isn't going to forgive so easily. And it was just a very real and heart breaking scene since no matter the direction,, nobody was going to be happy. Which tbf, I also like this scene because Cass is my favorite character. I like that Cass is a smidgen more down to earth than some of the other characters so far, and I really like this dilemma where Cass wants to leave hacking, but keeps coming back. Plus Cass is cool and badass, so there's that too.

Ironically, though, I think I like seeing Cass and Alan interact the most. I like this kind of...brother sister relationship they have going on where Cass just wants to protect Alan who is way too eager to get over his head. So all their interactions are super cute

But lets chat about art for a second. I really like that the art style in this is like this interesting mix between modern and cyberpunk. When it comes to stories where you have VR or similar involved, there's a lot of directions to go. Some just use the same art style throughout, some drastically change it, etc. It all depends on what is being sold to the reader in terms of setting. What I like about the art, though, is that despite it really doesn't change much, I'm sold on both the modern real world and the cyberpunk sort of feel I get from the world of the hackers. I always feel like both aspects are unique and have a lot of character, which I don't find in a lot of other similar comics

Iris Jay

Iris Jay here, author of Crossed Wires! Thanks for the rad comments so far, it means a lot that y'all are reading my weird queer hacker comic. <3

And I'm glad you dig the worldbuilding!! XW originally started as a Hackers fan comic, and I wanted to capture the same general feeling of it-- a cyberpunk story that wasn't happening in some neon-lit future, but now, the present, albeit with slightly better graphics capabilities. (Of course, with VR technology rapidly catching up, it's probably going to be historical fiction by the time I'm done with the series, buuuuut what're ya gonna do...)

Cass gets a LOT of cool stuff coming up very soon in the comic. I'm super excited to show y'all where the story goes next!

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

Oh, one other thing I love - I really like how both of the main protagonists are trans. Like I really think it adds some interesting parallels and theming to the story - these are both characters who felt rejected by the world, they went into VR for escapism and for avatars that portrayed who they really were. And I'm interested to see how the theme of a person's VR avatar being very closely tied to their identity is explored further in this chapter (I'm guessing it will be, particularly with regards to Cass).

sagaholmgaard

Im only about 30 pages in but I dig the style difference between the digital world and the dots for shading, and the real world with the greyscale shading. It's really cool. And the use of big areas that are colored black!! Love that kinda stuff, want to get better at using that myself!

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 2

9. What exactly is the Amphisbaena Project and how does it work in a way that it physically affects a person? What is the goal of the people who revived it, and who revived the project in the first place?

10. Do you think Cass will ever forgive Vrrmn/Theresa for the events that happened between them in the past? Can their relationship be repaired, and how will their soured relationship affect their separate relationships with Alan?

11. Do you personally believe in the hackers’ mission in exposing wrongdoing despite it being illegal? In general, what do you think the story has to teach us about standing up for both ourselves and for society?

12. Overall, how do you think the events of the story will change Alan, his relationships with others, and his pursuits of hacking? How will the other characters change and grow as people over the course of their adventures?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

RebelVampire

I feel like the Amphisbaena Project maybe started as like an anti-hacker measure. Since it's not like hackers are doing legal things, so it walks that ethical grey line of what is and isn't ok to do to law breakers. Like, if someone is invading your home, is it fine to shoot them. But now I think the people who revived it (which I have no guesses as to who yet), are using it to eliminate business rivals. Cause that sounds like something a corporation would do. As for how it works, I think it's just a simple matter of information overload to the brain, just on like...a brain-breaking level. Which this leads me into the moral quandry of, do I believe in the hackers mission. The short answer is no, because personally speaking I don't believe breaking the law is good in most cases, and often wrongdoing taints the results. However, I also emotionally understand why people would do this. The characters have made their personal mission sort of clear, and that makes me empathize with their plight. So all in all, I feel the story teaches us that standing up for yourself and society isn't easy. Whether it's an emotional or physical hardship, there are sacrifices and sometimes, you just gotta be ok with that.

Let me move onto character growth. I don't feel Cass will ever forgive Vrrmn, but I do think Cass will move past it to the level of being cordial. And I think Alan will be a big part of that, since both seem nice enough to not want to put Alan in the middle of their personal issues. So while the relationship will never be what it was, they'll probably be able to say How are you without Cass sneering. XD As for Alan, I kind of feel that the story will teach Alan more humility. We've already seen quite a bit of this, but I think his overwhelming confidence could still be more tempered as the story goes on. Not just because Alan will face strong people, but with more experience comes more wisdom. So at the end, Alan will be able to recognize that those boasted skills in the past weren't so great. As for other characters, I feel like I need to know them more before I can say.

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 3

13. What are you most looking forward to seeing in regards to the comic?

14. Any final words of encouragement for the comic?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

RebelVampire

What I'm most looking forward to in the comic is probably just seeing more of Cass. I'm interested to see where Cass goes both emotional and physically as the hacking world begins to change somewhat do to the events of the story. Overall, this is a stylistically interesting comic that covers a lot of ground with lots of interesting visuals that complement the story well.

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Crossed Wires this week! Please also give a special thank you to Iris Jay for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Crossed Wires, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: http://crossedwires.irisjay.net/

Iris’ Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/irisjay

Iris’ Shop: https://shop.itsnero.com/

Iris’ Twitter: https://twitter.com/irisjaycomics

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #book club #bookclub #webcomic book club #webcomic bookclub #comic tea party #ctp #crossed wires #iris jay

[gumnut-logic]

Bagel (complete)

Title: Bagel

Author: Gumnut

29 - 31 Jul 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: It meowed at him and poked his nose with a paw.

Word count: 4309

Spoilers & warnings: Angst

Timeline: Standalone

Author’s note: Nutty’s Fandomversary Fic Eight – Prompt at the end of the fic for spoilerage. This one is for @kylorr81 thank you for all your wonderful support ::hugs::

I wrote more John! Oh, the strain on my skill set. I’m missing Virg. I need to write me some Virg. Also, these ‘ficlets’ appear to be getting bigger. This is not a ficlet, it’s a full blown fic and Fandomversary was two weeks ago. Hmmmm. I miss Virg. I hope you enjoy this one anyway :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

John Tracy was sick.

Which meant John Tracy wasn’t allowed to go home.

Sure, he could say that he was home, but it didn’t really feel like home. It was full of brothers and people he loved, but it didn’t feel like home.

Home was among the stars.

But apparently astronauts with the flu weren’t allowed to go home.

“It won’t be for long, John. It will be over before you know it.” Virgil was kind and reassuring, but it didn’t really help.

He wanted to go home.

He was determined to work, of course. Until Scott caught him and cut him off.

There were some loud words over that, but the medical department of IR (aka Virgil) sided with the command department (aka Scott) and yeah, he was grounded, cut off from his ‘bird, holed up in his room and miserable.

Of course, his brothers attempted to cheer him up. Alan dumped himself on his bed chattering away with his latest game, all eager enthusiasm. Gordon brought him a pet crab. Even cared for it for him. John was left wondering if it was a snarky metaphor as the crab sat under a rock all day and had a distinct grumpy appearance.

Virgil and Scott were more subtle, but no less caring. Scott ran ideas past him for communications improvements. Piano music and the occasional piece of art found its way into his rooms uninvited.

He appreciated it. Truly, he did.

He just wanted to go home.

The morning he woke up with a cat sleeping on his chest was the last straw.

“C’mon, guys. You know I’m allergic to cats. Are your trying to kill me?” He held the cat out at arm’s length just waiting for his nasal passages to swell up. Though at this point considering his condition, he wasn’t really sure he would notice.

The cat meowed pitifully at him.

Virgil frowned.

Scott arched an eyebrow.

Gordon looked guilty....but then he always looked guilty. John was sure it was an inbuilt survival strategy.

Alan was cooing at the cat and reaching out to scratch it under the chin.

It was an orange stripy thing with big whiskers and that ragdoll floppiness all cats sported.

“Gordon?” Scott’s arched eyebrow was now pointed at the aquanaut.

“What are you looking at me for? I got him the crab, why would I get him a cat? The cat will eat the crab.” Gordon frowned at John. “Don’t let the cat eat the crab.”

Not a sentence John had ever predicted hearing in his lifetime.

“Can someone please take this thing?” He held out the cat even further.

Virgil, still frowning, gently collected the cat from John’s hands and automatically curled it up in his arms. A finger scratched under its chin.

“Thank you. I’m going back to bed.”

And he did.

The next time he woke, a pair of green feline eyes were staring at him, the cat, once again, curled up on his chest.

What?

It meowed at him and poked his nose with a paw.

“Virgil!”

He must have yelled a little too much because next minute his big brother barrelled into the room, panic on his face. “John, what the-?!”

His eyes landed on the cat and his shoulders literally sagged. “Goddamnit, that’s where you are. I’ve been looking for you for hours.” Virgil reached to pick up the cat.

The cat turned from mild mannered bed companion to spitting and screeching demon within a blink. Virgil yelped and fell backwards, his feet slipping on the mat and his butt hitting the floor with a crash.

One of John’s telescopes teetered before tipping ever so slowly. Virgil saw it and struggled to catch it. “Shiiit!” He threw himself in its path and the four-foot metal cylinder landed in his lap.

There was an oomph and Virgil was flat on his back on the floor.

Demon cat kneaded John’s chest a little before settling once more.

It began to purr.

“Virgil? You okay?”

His brother grunted and John struggled out of bed, shoving the cat out of the way. “Virgil?”

“I’m good.” It was up an octave higher than normal. “Sorry about your telescope.”

John grabbed the telescope off his brother and righted it. It was his own fault for leaving it there in the first place. Stargazing from bed was a habit much more easily exercised on TB5.

Virgil waved off his offered hand and rolled over, pushing himself to his feet with another grunt. He eyed the cat with suspicion. “I thought we had an understanding, Bagel.”

The cat eyed Virgil with equal suspicion.

“Bagel?”

“Gordon claims it is your cat so needs a John name.”

“A John name?”

“Yeah, Bagel it is.”

“It’s not my cat! And where did it come from anyway?” John frowned at Virgil. “Another stowaway on Two.”

“No! You know we have sensors for that now. And besides, that was only once.”

“Twice.”

“Once. The polar bear doesn’t count.”

“The polar bear most assuredly does count. Alan still hasn’t forgiven you.”

“Really?”

“It was a polar bear, Virgil.”

“Yeah, well, that is your cat.”

“That is not my cat.”

“Apparently she has decided she is yours.” Virgil held up his hands. Several scratches decorated his skin. “I have enough of these already. She’s yours.”

“I’m allergic.”

Virgil peered up at him, brown eyes assessing. “You don’t appear to be suffering a reaction. She’s been gone for hours. If she has been here, on your chest all that time, you should be showing the affects. All I can see is the remains of your flu.” A frown. “Are you feeling any better?”

It was John’s turn to frown. He had almost forgotten he was ill, but now his attention returned to his body, the signs were clear.

But he was feeling a little better.

“A little.”

Virgil reached up and squeezed his arm. “Good. You hungry?”

A brief consultation with his stomach and he realised that yes, he was. “Yes, I think so.”

A smile spread over his brother’s face. “Great. You’re on the mend.” Another squeeze of his arm and Virgil turned towards the door. “Meet you in the kitchen. Scott went all out this morning and made pancakes. I stashed you some. Gotta grab them before Gordon discovers them.”

“FAB.” John couldn’t help but return his brother’s smile.

Virgil grinned and with a half-hearted groan rubbed his butt and staggered with some exaggeration out the door. “Don’t forget your cat.”

John turned back to stare at the ginger monstrosity still sitting on his bed, calmly grooming.

“Bagel, is it?”

The cat blinked and kept licking its fur.

John sighed and grabbed his clothes.

-o-o-o-

The cat followed him downstairs for the meal, which turned out to be dinner. He had managed to sleep the day away. Apparently, this was a good thing, because for the first time in days, he could move without creaking.

Virgil had indeed stashed pancakes and within minutes there was a short stack piled up in front of him complete with ice cream and maple syrup. Before he even bothered to acknowledge the envy emanating from Gordon across the other side of the table, the stack began to disappear.

Scott knew how to make pancakes. John considered his big brother’s purpose in life and came to the immediate conclusion that it should be IR, family and pancakes.

Of course, pancakes could be a subset of family if considered that way, but there was always the possibility of him opening a business as a pancake chef.

Blink.

Yes, the flu had obviously taken part of his brain with it.

A pair of blue eyes and two pairs of brown were staring at him.

“What?”

“Did you bother to breathe between bites, bro?” Gordon gestured with his head at the table.

John looked down and found his plate empty. “Guess I was hungry. Scott makes great pancakes.”

“Yes, he does.” Virgil plonked a glass of orange juice in front of him and took away his sticky plate. “Now drink your juice and we’ll set up for family movie.”

“Aren’t you guys going to eat?”

“Already eaten.” Scott was poking at his phone, holograms bouncing around above it. “Grandma made meatloaf surprise again.”

John choked on his juice. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Scott did look a little green around the gills.

Well, that explained the envy on Gordon’s face and why Alan was very absent.

“Anyone feed the youngest?”

“All under control.” Virgil chucked Gordon a celery crunch bar and the aquanaut grabbed it from the air.

It was devoured faster than John’s pancakes.

Virgil wandered back into the kitchen proper and soon there was the delicious smell of hot popcorn wafting through the room. The engineer walked past the table again and dumped a chocolate bar in front of Scott. Another one landed in front of John.

“Consider it a survivor’s reward.” Virgil grabbed Scott’s phone out of his hand.

“Hey!”

“Stop working, this is family time. Everything can wait a couple of hours.”

Scott glared at his brother, but grabbed the chocolate bar and capitulated anyway.

Probably because he knew Virgil was right. It was so easy to get absorbed with International Rescue business. John knew he was a fantastic example case of such a syndrome.

A sigh.

Scott glanced up at him. “How are you doing, John?” A smirk. “How’s Bagel?”

As if beckoned, the cat in question suddenly leapt up on to the table and stalked the length of it towards Scott. John’s eyes widened as his eldest brother was targeted by a feline glare of epic proportions.

Scott’s expression was quite an amusing mixture and defiance and terror. Bagel sat down in front of him and after a moment of intense eyeballing decided Scott was boring and started washing herself.

“That is one weird cat, John.”

Everyone jumped as Bagel shot to her feet and dashed across the table at Gordon. “Holy crap!” The aquanaut scrambled backwards as Bagel ran at him. He tangled his feet in the stool he was sitting on and with a crash, ended up on the floor.

“Ow.”

Reaching the edge of the table, Bagel stopped and peered down at the fallen Thunderbird and, apparently deciding Gordon was no more interesting than Scott, sat down and returned to grooming.

The remaining three vertical brothers stared at each other and the cat.

No one said a thing.

“Uh, can someone give me a hand up, here?” Gordon vaguely waved an arm about and Virgil edged around the table to help his brother up.

His eyes barely left Bagel.

“Has anyone fed the cat?” John threw the question in there as a bit of an icebreaker since said cat had frozen the room almost solid.

Bagel looked up and stared at John for a moment before jumping to her feet and ambling over. A simple step off the table and she was in his lap, circling for moment to find a comfortable spot, then curling up and purring.

Again, everyone was staring at the orange fluff ball, John included.

“You have a very strange cat.” Apparently, Gordon hadn’t learnt from his earlier experience, but fortunately, Bagel ignored him this time.

John stared down at the purring ball of fur.

Yes, it seems he did.

-o-o-o-

Despite the possessed cat, the rest of the night went very well. All five brothers plus Kayo threw down some pillows, curled up in front of the holoprojector and waded through a trashy b-grade movie that looked like they were using mannequins for actors and plastic models for set pieces. There was popcorn, laughter and loving family. John felt warm and relaxed and better than he had in days. Somewhere between action scenes, he drifted off to the tinny soundtrack and the sound of his brothers criticising the special effects.

“Johnny?” It was whispered “Johnny, you’ve got to move or you’ll end up with one hell of a neckache.”

A blink and he found himself looking at Virgil upside down. Wha-?

“C’mon, bro. Up you get.” And his brother was lifting him up. Another blink and he realised he was lying on one of the couches...almost upside down, his feet at an angle above his head with his head hanging off the seat cushion. He was far too long for the piece of furniture and, apparently, he had stretched in his sleep.

Virgil was shifting his shoulders into a more horizontal position. Beyond him, the holoprojector was listing all the languages the movie was available in, complete with appropriate copyright warnings. Idly he noted that the Hungarian translation had an error in the third line.

John let his feet drop to the end of the couch before folding up enough to force himself upright. Ugh, Virgil was right. His neck cricked and creaked along with his spine. God, gravity was a nasty piece of work. It had also apparently dribbled all the mucus in his body into his head. His skull protested at the pressure as he sat up and he groaned.

“John?”

Why did everyone think Scott was the worry wart of the family? Virgil with his medical radar was just as bad, if not worse. “I’m fine. Just a head full of snot.” Ugh. Right between his eyeballs, throbbing to the beat of his heart. “Just kill me now.”

Suddenly there was an orange cat in his face, staring.

“What? Bagel, not now.” He gently picked up the cat and put her on the couch beside him. Where the hell had she come from anyway?

A pitiful meow was her response and she edged nearer brushing her cheek against his arm.

Despite himself, he turned to her. “What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him with a combination of adoration and haughtiness. He had no idea what to make of that expression.

Of course, she was a cat. Who understood cats?

“Are you two having a moment?” His brother’s smiling baritone broke the silence and to John’s surprise, Bagel turned to Virgil and hissed angrily.

His big brother took a hurried step back.

“Bagel! Leave him alone! He will never hurt you. For goodness sake, Virgil wouldn’t hurt a fly. Give him some respect.”

To his complete surprise, Bagel stopped hissing immediately. She turned to him almost a question on her face before once again looking at Virgil. Her head dropped and stared at the floor.

“What the hell?” It was little more than breath and all his big brother. Virgil was staring at Bagel, his brow crumpling into a deep frown.

Bagel’s head shot up and once again she was staring at Virgil.

Virgil’s frown got even deeper.

“John where did you get this cat from?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

Virgil continued his staring contest with the cat.

“What is it?” His brother’s expression was becoming unnerving, so suddenly determined, it was almost fierce.

“I don’t know.” A pause. “Keep her out of sensitive areas for me, will you?”

“Sure.”

Bagel continued to stare at Virgil.

Virgil continued to stare at Bagel.

A solid moment passed and then his brother was shaking his head, looking at his feet, looking at John. “You good to make it up to your rooms?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to go hunt down Scott. One of the TI directors in the States forgot the time zones. He’s been on the phone for half an hour already.” Virgil sighed.

“Need backup?”

“No.” A hand dropped to John’s shoulder. “You go to bed, you need it. I’ve got this.” The hand disappeared and Virgil climbed out of the lounge, heading towards the balcony.

Bagel was licking her paw.

John sighed. Perhaps some paracetamol would help. “C’mon, Bagel, apparently, you’re with me.” He picked her up and held her against his chest as he staggered to his feet. Cursed gravity. How he missed being able to make the smallest movements and coast across a room.

Bagel reached her head up and snuggled under his chin, her purr vibrating his sternum.

“Why me?” It was little more than an exhaled breath and he wasn’t sure it was a complaint or an actual question.

In either case, Bagel didn’t answer. She just purred into his chest.

So, it remained a mystery for another night.

-o-o-o-

“It just appeared. No trace on sensors, nothing. It’s as if it didn’t exist before the day before yesterday.”

Virgil’s puzzled voice echoed up the stairs as John approached the kitchen the next morning. He glanced at his watch. This was early for his brother; he usually wasn’t up for another hour at least.

“I’m telling you, Scott, there is something very strange about that cat.”

John paused at the top of the stairs, his hands curled around Bagel, gently scratching her under the chin. He had awoken again with her on his chest, but unlike the previous two incidents, he had found himself surprisingly comforted with her presence.

Her purring was strangely calming.

“I will admit she is quite volatile.” Scott’s voice was surprisingly reluctant. “She didn’t even take to Gordon. Every living creature takes to Gordon. Except lizards, I guess. Hell, she doesn’t even like you.”

“That’s just it. She doesn’t act like a cat.”

“What, just because she doesn’t like you?”

“I’m sorry, Scott. Something just doesn’t feel right. Why is she so attached to John? What if she is a plant after our technology?”

“A tech seeking cat? Really?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time an animal has been used for espionage.”

Scott sighed and John shifted, attempting to loosen the tense muscles in his shoulders.

“It’s just that John appears to have latched onto Bagel as much as the cat has to him. How often does John attach to anybody?”

“And that’s what scares me the most. What happens when he returns to TB5? He can’t take a cat with him. It wouldn’t be safe for either of them.”

“Then we look after Bagel for him.”

It was Virgil’s turn to sigh and it was a worried one.

John chose that moment to make his entrance. He stepped lightly down the stairs. “You two really do worry far too much.”

Both brothers started as he entered. The guilty expressions on their faces were quite amusing.

“Virgil, if you are worried about Bagel, scan her.” John held the cat out to his brother. “Take her up to the infirmary and run her through a thorough physical. In fact, I would prefer if you did since as you said, I have become somewhat attached to her. As to what we are going to do when I return to Five...” He shrugged. “I hope we can work something out.”

Virgil managed to look both apologetic and sad.

To John’s astonishment, Bagel wriggled out of his grip and jumped down to the floor. She ambled over to Virgil. His brother froze, obviously wary, but the cat gently brushed up against his leg and rubbed the length of her body across his boots.

The whole room stared.

“Good morning, Bagel.” Virgil’s voice was a little breathless.

“Good morning, Virgil.” The whole room jumped as Brains jogged down the stairs and passing them, bee-lined for the fridge.

“‘Morning, Brains, John.” Gordon wandered in from the pool rubbing a towel through his hair. “Yaargh! What the hell, Virgil. You gone to the cat side?” He took several steps back as he caught sight of Bagel.

Bagel, still wrapped around Virgil’s ankles, turned towards Gordon and spat at him.

“That damn cat is possessed.” The aquanaut made sure the table was between him and the feline.

Bagel glared at him, following with her eyes.

“Eos, I know G-Gordon can b-be a challenge, b-but really, h-he is a good man.” Brains was pouring milk into his cereal on the bench.

“Yes, but he is so annoying.” The AI’s voice bounced across the house’s comm system.

“He st-still deserves r-respect.”

The comm system grunted.

Every eye in the room stared at the engineer.

Gordon found his voice first. “Wow, Brains, thanks.”

John was staring at Bagel. “Eos what do you know about Bagel?”

“Oh, John, everything.” The little imp was so smug.

Two strides and John was beside Virgil. Reaching down, he snagged Bagel off the floor and held her up, his eyes raking over the cat. A moment of intense examination. Bagel stared back at him calmly.

“Okay, how did you do it?”

“Do what, John?”

“Do not mess with me, Eos. I want answers and I want them now.”

“Hiram helped me.”

“Helped you do what?” Scott’s voice was sharp. “Brains?”

“It was a v-very interesting challenge.”

“What did you do, Brains?” Commander Tracy stood up from the table, his height saying everything it needed to.

Brains didn’t notice.

“Oh, Eos had an e-excellent idea to equip Thunderbird F-Five with an internal m-mobile probe mechanism.

“Yes, something that could get into the spaces John cannot.” Still smug. Oh, there would be some serious talking at a later time.

“So, you built a cat.” Virgil’s eyes were wide.

Brains sipped his orange juice, still seemingly unaware of the tension in the room. “She didn’t think I could. So, I did.” He was definitely pleased with himself.

“You built a cat?” Gordon was an echo of his brother. “That cat?” He stabbed a finger in Bagel’s direction.

“Yes?” Finally, the man appeared to realise that something was amiss. “I’m v-very happy with the r-results. It performs v-very well.”

It certainly did. John had her under his arm and found himself scratching her under her chin despite everything.

He forced himself to stop.

“John?”

“Yes, Eos?”

“Do you like her?” Suddenly he was a parent faced with his child’s school science project and the need for approval.

Some science project.

“I like her, Eos.”

“Can we keep her?”

“That is yet to be decided.” It came out firm. It needed to be firm...even though he already knew the answer.

“But-“

“Eos, why didn’t you tell us Bagel wasn’t really a cat?”

“But she is...”

“Eos.”

“John...”

“Eos!”

“I missed you.”

He froze. “I’m right here.”

“But it’s not the same.” That was a definite whine. “You’re not with me. It gets lonely up here without you. So, I built a way to be down there with you.” Bagel rubbed her cheek against his hand.

“Eos is in the cat?” Gordon’s jaw may as well have been on the floor. “She hates me that much?!”

“I don’t hate you, Gordon. You are quite funny. Somewhat clumsy, but funny.”

“Eos.”

“Yes, John?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

No answer.

“Brains, why didn’t you tell us?” Commander Tracy was glaring at the engineer.

“T-Tell you what?”

“About Eos and the cat.”

“That would have r-ruined the experiment.”

“What?”

“Eos w-wanted to see if the f-feline programming was sufficient. The b-best way to do that was test it.”

“On us?” Gordon spouted outrage.

“Surprisingly only V-Virgil appears to have b-been concerned. I w-would be interested to hear your evaluation.”

“Sure.” Virgil appeared to still be processing. Probably attempting to work out exactly how Brains had pulled it off.

“Brains, you, Eos, John and I are going to have a serious conversation.” Scott’s voice was stern. “This is not happening again. This family is not an experimental lab.”

“It was not his fault, Commander.”

Scott arched an eyebrow up at the ceiling. “Really, Eos? I have no doubt that John has a few choice words to be said on this matter.” Oh, yes, choice and many. “In the meantime, please cease the experiment.”

“But-“

“Eos.”

“Very well.”

The cat in John’s arms went completely limp.

He couldn’t help it; a gasp passed his lips and he caught the sudden dead weight with both hands. “Eos!”

All life had left Bagel. She became nothing more than a lifeless corpse. Something inside him lurched horribly.

Every eye in the room was staring at him.

“John?” Virgil’s eyes flashed concern.

He gathered up the cat in his arms and gently placed her on the seat of one of the kitchen chairs.

So real. He shivered.

“You okay?” His big brother was suddenly beside him.

“That was unnerving.” Both of them stared at the immobile TB5 internal remote probe mechanism.

“Eos, can you please reactivate Bagel.”

“Virgil-“

“No, Scott. Too creepy, too real. Please, just...leave her be.”

To John’s surprise, Scott didn’t protest.

But Bagel didn’t move.

“Eos?” His own voice sounded hollow in his ears.

“Yes, John?”

“Please reactivate Bagel.”

“Why?”

“Eos, just please.”

“Very well.”

And Bagel uncurled herself, sat up and glared at Scott. Before Eos could exact any form of petulant revenge, he grabbed Bagel off the chair and held her in his arms.

“Thank you, Eos.”

“You are very welcome.” Impertinent little brat.

“Now, I’m going to have breakfast, then we are going to have that conversation.”

“Yes, John.”

Something in the room snapped and suddenly everyone went back to their morning routine with only the occasional stare at the cat in his arms.

“Would you like some cereal, John?” Virgil was heading towards the fridge.

“You don’t have to get me breakfast, Virgil.”

“You have your hands full and I’ve already had mine.”

“How early were you up this morning?”

“Early enough. Your cat weirded me out.”

Bagel was rubbing her cheek against his fingers again. He grabbed a chair and sat himself down, placing Bagel on the chair beside him. She started grooming herself quite content.

A bowl was placed in front of him, followed by a cereal box, milk and another glass of orange juice.

Bagel stared up at him

He shook his head slowly. “What am I going to do with you?”

The cat tilted her head and licked her whiskers.

And he knew that somewhere far above the planet his daughter was laughing.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

 Prompt: Eos and Pet Cat.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #cat #nuttys fandomversary

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 30

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

______________

The loft is covered in blood. There are more dead bodies in it than in a sophomoric slasher movie. Peter would really, really like a cold drink right now. The cans of Mountain Dew in the refrigerator are calling him. He wants sugar and bubbles and something to wash the taste of blood out of his mouth, yet he can’t bring himself to move just yet.  

He and Derek and Laura are sitting on the couch. They’re dressed in fresh clothes—explaining bloody bullet holes in their old ones, with no corresponding wounds on their bodies, would be difficult. Plus, this way, it’s easier to play the part of the slightly bewildered innocent citizens who somehow got caught up in all this mess.

Peter feels the slightly bewildered part is the truth, at least.

“Amateurs, I guess,” John Stilinski is saying with some authority to his deputies. “Must have got all that fancy tough-guy gear off Amazon or something, and thought they were Rambo. They couldn’t shoot for shit, and they obviously didn’t know what the hell they were doing with explosives if they blew themselves up like that.”

Lies, all lies, but he tells them so convincingly. His heartbeat barely stutters.

There are no bloody clothes in the loft. There are no crates of weapons. The remaining infrared tripwires were disabled long before the police arrived. All of that gear is currently in the back of Deaton’s ‘Beacon Hills Animal Clinic’ van, being driven away from the scene.

“Yeah,” John continues. “I was just coming over to pick Stiles up after work. You haven’t met Stiles, have you, Parrish? He’s been living with his grandparents overseas for a while.” He rubs a hand across his face and sighs. “Well, I’m sorry he had to be here for this, but, then again, if I hadn’t turned up, who knows what would have happened?”

God. The man deserved a fucking Oscar, but Peter guesses he’ll be happy enough to walk away with his job.

“It’s some business deal that went wrong, I gather,” John says, and looks over to Peter.

Peter nods. “Yes. The Argents are arms dealers. It’s all perfectly legal. I approached Chris Argent about setting up a new business together, using his name and my capital, and I guess Gerard didn’t take it well. I mean, Chris said the old man could be intractable and that he wouldn’t be very happy about it, but nobody was expecting anything like this.”

His shudder isn’t all feigned.

They got lucky tonight. Very fucking lucky.

It could have gone wrong so easily. It very nearly did.

The moment that Stiles shot his father—

Peter shudders again.

Stiles and Allison are sitting together in one of the armchairs, wedged in like small children. Their hands and faces are clean, but their clothes are still splattered with blood.

A business deal gone wrong is a solid explanation for Gerard’s attack on both Chris, and the Hales. They just have to get Chris up to speed before he’s interviewed by the police. Luckily for them—not so luckily for Chris, probably—he hasn’t been in any fit condition to be officially spoken to yet.

Parrish is young and earnest-faced. He turns to Stiles and Allison. “You want to tell me what happened in the car?”

“I stabbed him,” Allison says woodenly. “With an arrow. In the eye. That’s when we crashed.”

She looks like she wants to be sick.

“I, um… I shot the other guy,” Stiles says. “He was going to shoot us.”

“Also they were kidnapping us!” Allison exclaims.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “They were kidnapping us.”

“It was a good shot,” Parrish says, and there’s not a question there, but there’s something expectant in his tone nonetheless. Parrish isn’t stupid.  

Stiles wrinkles his nose and looks even younger than his sixteen years. “I play a lot of first person shooters.” He pulls his mouth down at the corners. “I don’t think I will anymore though.”

Parrish nods, sympathy creeping into his expression.

That acting gene clearly runs strongly in the Stilinski line. It sure as hell didn’t skip a generation here, did it?

“I don’t even know what the protocol is here, Sheriff,” Parrish says at last. “You can’t investigate it though.”

“Obviously not,” John says. “Listen, you take your initial statements, and call in Detective Garcia. She’s the next ranking highest officer under me. And I’ll be taking administrative leave until this is all resolved.”

Parrish nods.

“But in the meantime,” John continues, “I’m going to take my son and Allison back to my place, because they’ve been through a hell of a traumatic experience tonight.” He looks to Peter. “Peter, do you want to come too? The forensics guys and the photographers won’t be done for hours yet, and you sure as hell shouldn’t have to stay here tonight.”

Peter recognises a lifeline when he’s thrown one.

“Yes,” he says. “We’d appreciate that.”

They could stay in a hotel he supposes, but he knows he’s not the only one who wants to be somewhere more familiar. And John’s house has become familiar to them recently. It feels safe, like a pack den.

They head upstairs to pack overnight bags, dodging deputies and crime scene photographers. At least Peter’s bedroom is unscathed and Laura’s only has a broken window. Derek’s is a fucking bloodbath, complete with a plastic-covered dead body on the floor.

That’s going to take a lot of scrubbing with bleach.

The whole loft is.

Peter’s almost sorry it didn’t explode.

***

The kids fall asleep on mattresses on John Stilinski’s living room floor, even Laura. Peter tugs a blanket up over her in the darkness. There will be plenty of time for her to be the alpha again tomorrow, but Peter is always the left hand. He wanders back to the kitchen and checks the time on the microwave. It’s past midnight. Too late to call Matty. He sends a text to Satomi instead, asking her to let him know first thing in the morning that they’re all okay, and he’s sorry he missed his nightly phone call.

The hunters, he tells Satomi, are taken care of for now.

Because what was this except the opening salvo of a war?

She texts back almost immediately to tell him that she’ll pass that on to Matty, and that when he’s ready to tell her what happened, she’ll take his call.

He appreciates that she doesn’t push.

John is sitting at the kitchen table. There’s no beer in front of him tonight though.

“Okay?” Peter asks, sitting down opposite him.

“For now,” John says.

“Do you think your story will hold?”

“I think so,” John says. “Crazier things have happened.” His mouth twists and he shrugs. “Possibly.”

Peter allows himself a faint smile.

“It’s the hunters’ council we need to focus on next,” John says, and he sounds all business. “But Victoria is head of the Argent family now, and she fucking owes me. She owes you too, for keeping Allison safe. If she speaks for you, and with Araya Calavera at least willing to listen, then maybe—”

“Stop,” Peter says, and holds up a hand. “Stop, please.”

John raises his eyebrows.

“Just for one night, let’s not. I’m tired, John. I’m so fucking tired.”

John’s gaze is full of understanding. He stands up, and offers Peter his hand. “Come on then,” he says, and leads him upstairs to bed.

***

Peter sleeps.

That’s all he does.

It feels like he hasn’t slept in months, if not years, but somehow, with John’s solid heartbeat beside him, he sleeps.

And he doesn’t wake again until the sun is already well and truly up, and John’s bastard neighbor decides that 11 a.m. is a good time to mow his lawn.

***

Alan Deaton turns up to the house at midday, and asks to speak with Laura and Peter.

“Anything we have to discuss, I’m happy to discuss in front of Allison and Sheriff Stilinski,” Laura says.

She doesn’t even look to Peter for approval, and he smiles at that. She’s finding her feet today. He’s proud of her, and knows Talia would be too.

“I’m going back to Mexico,” Deaton says. “To speak to Araya Calavera, to make sure no other hunters come here in an attempt to avenge Gerard Argent.”

Allison lifts her chin at that. “Why would they? I killed him.”

Deaton looks slightly taken aback for a moment.

“He broke the Code,” Allison says. “He broke the Code when he killed Scott McCall for no reason, and I killed him.”

Oh, Peter likes Allison. She’s as steely as any other Argent through and through but she’s untainted by their bigotry.

“Well that does put a different spin on things,” Deaton says thoughtfully.

Peter glances at John, and sees the way he’s watching Allison.

Maybe John was wrong. Maybe Victoria won’t be the head of the Argent family after all. God knows she’s got a hell of a candidate in Allison.

***

Peter won’t say that the rest of the day is smooth sailing. When Victoria arrives in the afternoon to collect Allison, he has to hold John back from punching her.

“My daughter was as much a hostage as your son,” Victoria says.

“You still got to raise her!” John yells.

Stiles scuttles upstairs when he hears that, his scent sour with sudden panic.

“John,” Peter says firmly, a hand on John’s chest. “John, leave it. Go and talk to your son.”

John glowers at him, but eventually nods and follows Stiles up the stairs.

“Janusz takes order from you now, does he?” Victoria asks. “A wolf?”

Peter lifts his lip and growls.

“Stop it, Mom!” Allison snaps. “You don’t get to judge anyone here! You and Dad stood by while Kate and Gerard hurt Stiles.”

Victoria’s expression is pinched. “We did it for you, Allison.”

“Well maybe you should have done something for Stiles too!”

Victoria’s cold façade cracks a fraction. “There was nothing we could do!”

“You can do something now!” Allison yells back. “You can tell the hunters’ council to leave the Hales alone! You can tell them to leave Stiles and the sheriff alone! You can tell them not to send anyone here!”

“Yes,” Victoria says. “Yes, we can do that.”

The fight drains out of Allison, and leaves her looking uncertain and slightly brittle, as though she thought it would be much harder than that to convince her mother. She can’t smell the guilt rolling off Victoria in stinking waves the way that Peter can.

He doesn’t pity Victoria—and she’s not looking for pity—but he does understand her.

Peter knows what it’s like to be backed into a corner.

“Victoria,” he says. “How’s Chris?”

Victoria looks at him warily. “Doing better. He’s off his ventilator today.”

“Good,” Peter says. “Then let’s talk about our official story. Things will be so much smoother for everyone if we’re all on the same page.”

Victoria stares at him for a long moment, and then nods. “Let’s do that.”

#bad blood #my fics #discontentedwinter #sterek #steter senior

[missmelpcmene]

The Breaking Point —Chapter 6

Originally posted on Fanfiction.net in January of 2009.

DISCLAIMER: The places and characters featured hereinafter are the property of Warner Bros., Joel Shumacher, Janice Fischer, James Jeremias, and Jeffrey Boam and no attempt is being made by the author to claim ownership or profit from the use of the aforementioned characters. The views represented herein do not necessarily represent the views of the original authors and any character names or places mentioned in the original works belong to the copyright holders and are used in this story for nonprofit entertainment purposes by an amateur writer. The original characters used in this story are the creative property of Miss Melpomene and are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like."

Old habits die hard. It was an expression that Missy had always taken for granted, but she was beginning to think that in trying to get the Frog brothers to break some of their worse habits, that she had entered herself into a losing battle. She was learning quickly, and she'd only spent a day with the Frogs, that teenage boys were about seven times as horrible and poorly mannered as her mother had told her. Between chewing with their mouths open, and Missy was certain that she'd never seen two creatures with poorer eating habits in all of the animal kingdom, leaving their dirty clothes in the bathroom, and forgetting to put the cap back on the toothpaste when they were through with it, they'd effectively managed to drive her up the wall in less than twelve hours. There was also their infallible talent for popping up when they were least wanted, and invading the privacy of her room under the pretense of 'random vampire screenings'. She'd had to drag her armoire in front of the door just to keep them out of her room long enough for her to have a moment to herself.

"Missy?" She groaned into her pillow, but didn't get up. Nothing short of the apocalypse, complete with raining hell fire, could have gotten her off of that bed.

"What is it, Alan?" She heard him jiggle the handle and snickered when the door smacked against the back of her dresser.

"Did you…did you barricade your door?" She rolled over and sat up, smiling in the direction of her doorway.

"Uh-huh."

"…why?"

"To keep you and your brother out." She'd only spent a day with them, and already she wanted to throttle them within inches of their lives. "Look, I appreciate you both giving me a place to live, and for pennies, practically. And you're great, both of you, but I'm just not used to living with other people yet, and I'm just sort of trying to adjust. Plus your brother is driving me crazy!" She heard him chuckle, and she realized that she rather liked the older Frog brother. He didn't make her half as nuts as his brother did, and anyone who could be civil to someone who'd given them a split lip was someone Missy wanted to be friends with.

"Well, it's eight, just thought you might want to know. You know, in case you wanted to go out."

Moving the armoire was a lot harder in reverse, Missy realized, and she was sweating by the time she got it back against the wall. She opened the door, and found Alan on the other side of it, still. "You heard me struggling with that thing, you couldn't have helped me push it back?" She was grumping, sure, but she was grinning from ear to ear for some reason.

The darker haired Frog just shrugged. "It sounded like you were doing alright." Missy rolled her eyes at him and bumped his shoulder with hers on her way to the bathroom. She ran cold water in the sink, splashing it on her face until she felt composed again, and dried her skin with a towel. She winked at Alan as she hurried past him down the stairs, down into the store where Edgar looked up before her feet had even touched down, glaring at her.

"Alan said you'd barricaded yourself in you room."

"I did." Missy smiled at him, fluffing her hair with both hands and checking her clothes in the reflective glass of one of the display cases. "But I'm better now."

"Right, are you going out again?"

"Yep." She answered without looking at him, watching the surfers congregate near the door, roughhousing with each other. Alan was watching them too, she noticed, and she figured he must be expecting them to try and make off with something.

"Just don't leave the boardwalk." She glanced back at Edgar, and he was doing his serious face again. "Stay close to people. People and lights are safe, got it?"

"People and lights, got it. I'll be careful. If a stranger in a white van rolls up and offers me candy, I'll just say no." Edgar mumbled something about vampires not driving vans and disappeared into the backroom. Missy watched him go, shaking her head.

"He really doesn't let up, does he?" She asked Alan, who frowned at her. "I was afraid for a minute that he wasn't going to let me leave without a string of garlic around my neck."

"It's Edgar's way of showing you that he likes you." Alan explained. "That he doesn't want you getting eaten. Take it as a compliment."

"Right." Missy snorted. "I bump into Dracula out there and he'll probably throw a parade." She sighed and patted Alan on the arm. "See you later, alright?"

"Be in before one or Edgar will lock you out!" Alan called after her, and she waved back at him, jogging past the surfers and out into the busy night throng.

Missy stretched her arms up over her head and smiled, letting the colorful lights wash over her, taking a moment to smell the salt and the sand, the cotton candy and the corn dogs, and something else. Something else, she realized, that smelled better than anything she'd ever smelled before. More saccharine than the spun sugar, with the same warm, earthy smell of wood burning in a fireplace, and the spicy fragrance of fresh cinnamon and apple cider all mixed into one. It was like the rain hitting asphalt that's been warmed all day by the sun, or falling into a pile of wildflowers and letting the scent take over until all you can see is an ocean of flowers. It was sudden and alien to her, and she spun in confused circles, trying to figure out which direction the smell had come from.

"Hey, Missay!" She flung her arms out and stumbled, hitting the ground with a pained yelp. Whipping her head back, she glared up at the source of her present misfortune, and groaned. Of all things. Why not the Grim Reaper? Why not Renee and a cadre of armed policemen? Why not the almighty Count D himself? She begged for the plague, for a meteor to drop out of the sky and crush her into the center of the earth. Anything but…him. Him and his stupid smile and stupid hair.

"Why you?" She groaned, lifting her hands and wincing as she used the left to pick pebbles out of the heel of the right. The wiry blonde standing over her just smiled, and held out a hand to help her up. She glared at it and Paul pulled it back to join the other, raising both of his hands at her in supplication.

"Just trying to help."

"Don't need your help." She got to her feet without any of the leggy biker's help, frowning as she took in the state of her skinned knees. "Wonderful. I suppose I'll have to add gravity to my list of enemies now." Paul snickered at her, and reached out to brush something off her shoulder.

"You keep a list?" She shot him a glare, and he quieted.

"Do you set this time aside to make me miserable, or is this just fate's way of telling me I should've stayed in Seattle?" Paul didn't seem to hear anything but the end of her sentence, and he broke into another smile.

"So you're from Seattle, huh?" Missy frowned at him, gesturing to the boardwalk around them.

"Don't you have anything else to do?"

"Not until later." He smirked at her, and she thought it should have been illegal for someone as annoying as him to look so good while smiling. She turned her back to him, stalking in the opposite direction as fast as her sore knees and pride would allow. Persistence, she realized, as the blonde's steps fell into line with hers, was one of Paul's more predominant and far more irritating traits.

"It's not cute, you know." She told him, though his pace never wavered.

"What?" He asked, grinning.

"Stalking me." Missy replied.

"Just keeping you company." Paul told her simply, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"I don't need company." At least, she wasn't sure that it was Paul's company that she wanted. There was still the part of her brain that refused to be silenced, telling her that no matter how stupid and harmless he might have seemed, Paul was trouble. Maybe it was just her Seattle mindset acting up, or her father's warnings about boys like Paul and his friends that was making her nervous.

"Where're we headed?" Paul bumped her elbow with his, and she frowned at him.

"We?" She repeated. "Look, Paul, I'm sure you're a nice guy and all, but I don't really understand what you want from me."

Paul's smile was mischievous, and just a little dangerous. "Don't worry so much. Wanna ride the carousel? You like it right?"

Missy stopped walking and gawped at him. "How did you know I like the carousel?"

"Doesn't everybody?" Paul snagged her hand before she could reply, and as he blazed past a couple of schoolchildren to get to the head of the ticket line, Edgar's warning came back to her. Lights and people. Even if Paul was a threat, it wasn't like he was going to pull anything this close to the crowds and lights. She was safe, so she might as well try and enjoy herself. She stared at his hands as he wrapped them around her waist, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a bag of sugar, and depositing her sidesaddle on the back of a black horse with bright white teeth. He stood beside her horse, one hand on her waist, and the other on the pole that was set through the middle of her steed. He was watching the faces of the other riders, but Missy was watching him. It wasn't until about halfway through the ride that she got a whiff of the same strange fragrance she'd smelled in front of the comic shop, and leaned over to see if it was Paul. He turned to look at her the moment she moved, and smirked at something behind her. "Hey, man." Missy turned her head, the force nearly tossing her from her horse, if not for Paul's hand keeping her in place.

It was one of the other three boys that had been outside the video store with Paul the night before. It was the youngest looking one, with the curly hair. Missy thought he had a sweet face, and when his pale eyes focused on hers, he grinned, and Missy tried not to look as nervous as she felt. "Hey again." His hand reached out and wrapped around her horse's pole, and she stiffened. She was boxed in.

"Missy, Marko." Paul gestured at the curly haired boy, who waggled the fingers of his free hand in a wave that Missy wasn't sure was patronizing or not.

"Nice to meet you, Marko." She told him, but Paul and Marko were talking, and neither one of them seemed to be hearing her.

"You eat yet?" Marko was saying, and Paul grinned.

"Nah, thought I'd get something later." Missy wasn't sure, but she was almost certain that Marko's eyes had shot in her direction, if only for a second, at the mention of food. She couldn't imagine why.

"You like Santa Carla so far?" It took her a few seconds to realize that Marko was speaking to her, and she was so stunned when she finally figured it out, that all she could do was stare stupidly until her vocal chords started working again.

"It's different." She told them, but she was looking at something, rather, someone off in the distance as she spoke. "I didn't exactly get a good first impression." Paul and Marko followed her stare, down the line of people waiting to ride the carousel, to a man with a white streak in his black hair, and a blonde woman under his arm.

"Greg?" Paul snorted. "He's a piece of shit."

"I noticed." Missy said, and all of the sudden she didn't feel like riding rides anymore. Paul didn't seem notice her mood swing, but Marko was smiling sweetly at her.

"Wanna do something else?" She nodded, numbly, and it was Marko's hands instead of Paul's on her waist, turning her and helping her slide down from the saddle.

Paul stayed on her right, bobbing his head and tapping a beat out on his thigh that she couldn't hear. Marko was on her left, telling her about the history of the carousel. Apparently it had been built in the nineteen-hundreds. She ducked her head when they passed by Greg and his girlfriend, but her bad luck wasn't going to allow her to escape a second run-in with the man unscathed. "Hey, Dorothy!" He called, and she winced so sharply that Marko and Paul stopped walking to stare at her. "Lookin' good, Dorothy." Greg's eyes traced a line from her ankles, up her bare legs, all the way to her face. She felt the trail he'd left behind like he was a snail instead of just an asshole.

"Get a life." Missy sped away before she could hear what Greg had to say next, and three seconds later, Paul was throwing his arm around her neck and howling with laughter.

"You shouldn't have run off so fast, Miss! You missed Shelly smacking Greg upside the head with some kid's funnel cake!" Missy cracked a small smile, miniscule in comparison to Paul's full-face one.

Marko leaned in a little to whisper in her ear, and Missy shivered. "Guys like that get off on thinking they have power." He told her. "But guys like Greg wouldn't know real power if it bit them on the ass."

"You know about power?" Missy asked, sounding rudely incredulous, even if she didn't mean to. Marko didn't look offended, he just gave her a secretive sort of smile.

"Sure do." He said.

"Yeah!" Paul was grinning from ear to ear again. "Marko's a superhero, couldn't you tell? You're a real badass, aren't you, Marko?" Marko leaned past her and shoved Paul in the chest. One shove led to another, and before Missy could say anything, Marko had Paul in headlock, mussing his choppy blonde hair. She couldn't see what difference it was making.

"Boys, boys, boys. Aren't we being childish?" Three pairs of eyes turned, isolating, at the sound of a new voice, the source.

"David." Marko said, and released Paul's head, but not before messing his hair one more time.

So that was his name. David. He looked exactly the way Missy remembered him. Pale, imposing, with a smile that bordered on malevolent, and a glint in his ice blue eyes that promised cruelty. "Good to see you again, Missy." His voice was almost a whisper, and Missy couldn't help wondering if other people had half as much trouble understanding him when he talked. She supposed his voice was a little bit sexy, but she'd much rather be able to hear what he was saying properly. His eyes made her uneasy, like he was looking through her, no, at something deep inside her that only he could see. He made her feel like she was about to be devoured.

The last boy was as handsome as the rest of them, and Missy couldn't recall hearing him speak once in the two times, now, that they had been around each other. He was watching the crowd around them, his long, dark hair hanging in front of his piercing eyes. Missy noticed at once that for the second night in a row, he wasn't wearing a shirt beneath his jacket. She blushed, and the dark skinned boy's eyes shot to her face at once, and his eyes burned her with a hateful stare. "I have to go." She tore her eyes from the shirtless boy's face, frowning at Marko and Paul. "I'm supposed to be helping my roommates out tonight, I forgot." She could tell by looking at them that they didn't believe her, but she persisted anyway. "Thank you for riding the carousel with me."

"No problem, maybe next time we run into each other it won't be so, you know, literal." Paul winked at her, and she smiled. She heard David cluck his tongue, and she turned her head to frown at him.

"Wish you could stay." He was telling her. "We were just about to get a bite." Something about the way he said it made her skin turn to ice, and she took an unconscious step away from the platinum haired male. "Another time, perhaps. Since you and my boys are such good friends now." His icy eyes flickered, and she knew he was looking past her, at Paul and Marko.

"Goodnight." She smiled at Marko and Paul, and the genuineness of it surprised her, considering only yesterday she'd been calling Paul an asshole.

"Night." Marko called, but she had already run out of earshot.

Missy couldn't help but wonder, as she ran back to the comic store, if all of her dealings with the David and his strange boys would end with her running away from them like the devil himself was on her heels.

Edgar and Alan's glares seemed a little less angry than usual when she ran in, smiling, but out of breath. She gasped some sort of excuse about being tired at them and didn't stop until she had shut her bedroom door behind her. She flopped facedown on her bed, toeing one sneaker off, then the other, and sighing. Was anything about her new life going to be normal? She was living with a couple of teenagers who thought they were vampire hunters, and the only guys who hadn't tried to turn her into a missing person were weirder than the ones who had. David, Paul, Marko, and the silent one whose name she had yet to learn. Something about them was off, she was sure, even if she couldn't put her finger on it.

Who knows, maybe the Frog brothers were right about their insane theories. Maybe Santa Carla was crawling with the undead, and David and his boys were on the liquid diet. She laughed aloud at the idea, sitting up just enough to untuck her blankets, slip off her shorts, and crawl beneath them.

Sure, David and Paul and Marko were vampires, and she was the Wolfman.

She felt stupid even thinking it, and somehow the fact that their paranoia had even affected her slightly made her want to go downstairs and beat the living daylight out of the Frog brothers.

She'd sleep first, of course. She could deal with vampires, vampire hunters, and whatever else the world wanted to throw at her in the morning. She laid her head down on her pillow, felt the stake that Alan had stashed beneath it, and frowned.

Her dreams were filled with spinning horses and beautiful boys with demonic faces. Marko and Paul chased her around the carousel, and as loud as she screamed, no one but the two of them seemed to hear her. The lights blinked and flickered around her, threatening to go out, and the music sounded like a funeral march to her ears. Her funeral march. She tripped, as people so often did in times of great fright, sliding on the spinning floor until her body connected with something hard as stone. Trembling, she raised her eyes in terror to David's grinning face. "Wish you could stay." He laughed then, and her eyes were drawn to his teeth, unnatural, sharper than a human being's should have been, and her mind was filled with one, single, terrifying realization. Vampire.

She flew up in her bed, gasping and clawing at her throat. There was nothing on her neck but her locket's chain, and as she gazed around at her room, pitch black in the late hours, she felt insanely stupid. "Ugh!" She reached under her pillow and retrieved the stake, chucking it across the dark room. She heard it smack into the wall opposite with a satisfying clonk and she laid back down, staring up at her bedroom ceiling as she tried to still the beating of her terror-stricken heart, trying to assure the erratic organ that it had all been a dream.

"Stupid nightmare." She whispered, turning over and closing her eyes again, determined not to let her sleep be disturbed again by thoughts of nonexistent demons. "Stupid Frog brothers." She fought to regain control of her sleep, but try as she might to keep her mind from wandering to unpleasant things, her brain kept echoing a single phrase. Four words that the dream David and waking David had in common. She recalled the words, and shuddered.

"Wish you could stay."

Thank you for reading.

#{;the breaking point} #the lost boys #lost boys #lost boys fan fiction

[nojudgingbybloodline]

Milking the Hippogriff Dry as the Hogwarts Express Gravy Train Runs Out of Steam:

Why Warner Bros. are Wrong to Turn Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows into Two Films

By MaraudingDon

On March 13th 2008, Warner Bros. confirmed1 rumours that had been circulating for a number of months that they would indeed be splitting the seventh film in the Harry Potter franchise, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, into two parts. This essay will set out reasons why this long-time, self-confessed Harry Potter uberfan is appalled by this decision.

The Harry Potter films have been overwhelmingly successful. According to IMDb,2all five previously released films occupy spots in the top twenty-one grossing films of all time. Three of them are in the top ten. Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone(Sorcerer's Stone if you are not British) is the highest placed with $968 million+ box office takings, and even Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban at number twenty-one took a very respectable $789+ million at the box office.

This is the cash cow, or for the purpose of this essay, the cash hippogriff, that has served Warner Bros. very nicely indeed, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, the cash hippogriff is about to milk its last drop, because with the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows film, this lucrative film franchise runs out. The cogs in the WB machine must have squealed louder than Dobby when they read the final book and realised that Lord Voldemort had eight portions of soul, instead of seven. "Let's do the same with the film' squealed delighted film bosses as they got ready to count their galleons in the Lightning Struck counting tower ’ and so instead of seven films to match seven books, we get eight films.

Now at the start of this, I must confess that I am not a fan of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. In July 2007, just before the release of the novel, Jo Rowling told ITV News3 that "Some people will loathe it. For some people to love it, other people must loath it. That's just in the nature of the plot." Well she was spot on, because even though I have read the book five times now, I still loathe it as much as I did that first time. However, as someone who has huge respect for what Jo Rowling has achieved, it is still important to me that Warner Bros. does justice to this amazing world and does not abuse their position as holders of the copyright and trademarks. In fact, a well executed film could provide me, and others who did not like the book, a new appreciation of it in the same way the excellent Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix film did for many.

What made Harry Potter work for me, what made me fall in love with this excellent series (and despite my loathing of the final book, I still regard the first six as works of genius), was her excellent characterization. J.K. Rowling succeeded where so many other authors have failed by creating peripheral characters that a reader could truly care about. Adult characters like Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Molly and Arthur Weasley, and the younger characters like Luna, Neville and the Weasleys. Even the traditional baddies like Bellatrix were utterly fascinating to read about ’ and was there ever a greater literary character than Severus Snape? For six books he created more heated debate than any of the other Harry Potter characters put together. So herein lies my first problem with a two part Deathly Hallows film ’ in the first part, you aren't even going to see half of these characters. If Steve Kloves adheres religiously to the book, then we may be lucky to get a quick glimpse of Severus at the very beginning, but then that's it until part two. No Hogwarts, no teachers, NO NEVILLE! The heart and soul immediately disappears.

Do people realize when they welcome a two part film, just how much of the trio we are going to get? If the film is split at the "Silver Doe" chapter4 for example, then we may get to see Voldemort and his Death Eaters opening the film, a rather anti-climactic goodbye to the Dursleys, "The Seven Potters" with a big chase and fight scene, the deaths of Hedwig and Mad-Eye, a wedding, and the rest will be Harry, Ron and Hermione. Yes there will be scenes involving the locket hunt at the Ministry and a visit to Godric's Hollow, but are Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson strong enough to hold a film of this magnitude? I don't think so. There is no doubt that all three of them have improved as they have made that difficult transition from child actor to adult ’ Daniel especially has improved ten-fold since those awkward first films, but several hours of Emma's hypnotic dancing eyebrows is not enough to hold my attention. It is worth remembering that nearly all the action in this book takes place in the last third of the text, including a fantastic battle segment at Hogwarts, the resolution to the Snape storyline, and of course, the denouement to the entire series. The casting directors of the Harry Potter films have done an outstanding job in casting the very best of British stage and screen in these movies. We've been lucky enough to see Richard Harris, Sir Michael Gambon, Dame Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Gary Oldman, David Thewlis and many more award winning stars grace our screens together. What a tragic disappointment then to have a Deathly Hallows part one in which we may not even see these greats at all, or in tiny dribs and drabs. Those who don't like the book often mention the camping. Those who love the book often moan at those who moan about the camping! But there is no getting away from it that part one of this two-part film is going to consist of a lot of the trio arguing whilst either planning their camping or actually doing it.

So let's move away from camping and talk about money ’ because money talks. Films like Titanic and the amazing Lord of the Rings trilogy took enormous box office takings, not because of the amount of people who went to see the films, but because of the amount of repeat viewings. It's why the Harry Potter franchise has been so successful ’ families and non-fans will only take box office receipts so high, it is the super fans who see the films three, four, five, even twenty times each that create such huge box office receipts. The Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix film took $937+ million at the box office. A tiny, miniscule percentage of that was my viewing it five times, I loved it, couldn't get enough of it. Will I go and watch Deathly Hallows part one five times? Not in a million years, and I highly doubt others will either.

I've put it off too long ’ I now find myself having to write about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Allowed-To-Write-The-Screenplay, a.k.a. Steve Kloves. (Here I offer an apology and a blindfold to my friend, fellow longtime Leaky stalwart and Kloves fan Bandersnatch) but does the thought of a five hour two-part film penned by Mr. Kloves make anybody else want to jump through the veil themselves?!! Lest we forget, this is the man who in the Prisoner of Azkaban film managed to turn Ron Weasley into the cowardly lion, and Hermione Granger into the Bionic Woman! Be honest, is this the man you Snapeophiles trust with doing justice to your hero? Personally, I'm waiting for Lord Voldemort to cackle, "I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too."

I just find it unfathomable to understand why Warner Bros. has been so averse to creating one film that is say, three and a half hours long. That is more than sufficient to do justice to the book. History shows that cinema audiences are more than happy to sit time and time again through long films; the examples of Titanic and Return of the King back this up. Titanic had a run time of 194 minutes,5 whilst Return of the King numbed our derrieres for 201 minutes,6 yet still we flocked to see them, making them the highest grossing films of all time.

Instead we are faced with getting two films, six months apart. According to the press release, part one will reach us in November 2010 and part two in May 2011. The first is two years after the Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince film and part two will reach us nearly four years after the release of the book. Again, I feel Warner Bros. has misjudged its audience. The super-fans are slowly losing their fervor for all things Potter, the fandom is slowing down. If part one is judged to be a failure, will the "normal" audience, those who are not super fans, even bother going back to watch part two? The denouement to the Deathly Hallows book is dominated by a fantastic battle scene that is covered in more than one hundred pages of nail biting prose. I can understand the producers perhaps believing that they could not do justice to this battle in one film (in addition to everything else they may want to create), but my argument is that they absolutely could do it all in one film, and do it well. Let's look at the examples of the Lord of the Rings trilogy again. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers was dominated by a battle at Helm's Deep and, led by Peter Jackson, the film version of the novel was exquisite. Even better was the battle for Gondor in Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, a battle that easily overshadows the Battle of Hogwarts. If New Line Cinema and Peter Jackson could do it ’ why not Warner Bros. and David Yates? One longer film instead of two shorter ones will keep the dramatic tension flowing to great effect.

Back to money again. Once the films have sizzled or sunk at the box office, we then get the DVDs. I would be interested to hear what Warner Bros. have to say about this. Are we, as most anticipate, going to have to pay for two DVDs for one story? Instead of the usual $30 here in Australia, will I have to pay $60? There is no question of an uberfan like me not getting them, of course I have to and WB knows this. I have a nasty taste in my mouth that could be shampoo ¦ no, it's bubotuber pus ¦ no, it's the taste of being ripped off.

I'm sorry Mr. Heyman, you may be as gorgeous as Fleur Weasley, but this decision screams out, "money, money, money." The Hogwarts Express gravy train is on its last journey and you appear to be clinging on by your fingertips. Time will tell whether this is a decision you come to rue.

Notes

1. Business Wire, "Warner Bros. Plans Two-Part Film Adaptation' paragraph 1.

2. IMDb, "All-Time Worldwide Box office."

3. Oatts, "Rowling: Some will loathe it' paragraph 2.

4. Rowling, Deathly Hallows, 296’314.

5. IMDb, "Titanic."

6. Ibid., "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King."

Bibliography

Business Wire. "Warner Bros. Plans Two-Part Film Adaptation of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" to Be Directed by David Yates." Business Wire, 13 March 2008, http://www.businesswire.com/portal/site/google/?ndmViewId=news_view&newsId=20080313005332&newsLang=en (accessed 21 April 2008).

The Internet Movie Database (IMDb). "All-Time Worldwide Box office." http://www.imdb.com/boxoffice/alltimegross?region=world-wide (accessed 21 April 2008).

”””. "Titanic." http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120338/ (accessed 21 April 2008).

”””. "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King." http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0167260/ (accessed 21 April 2008).

Oatts, Joanne. "Rowling: Some will loathe it." digital spy, 13 July 2007. http://www.digitalspy.co.uk/tv/a65641/rowling-some-will-loathe-it.html (accessed 21 April 2008).

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, London: Bloomsbury, 2007.

Comments? See below, or

discuss this essay

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The Leaky Cauldron - Scribbulus

#the leaky cauldron #Scribbulus #essay #Harry Potter

[rhys-thecompanynerd-blog]

2,3, 11, 30, 53 and 54 [[ THERE YOU GO ]]

2. Favorite part of writing.

The part where it works? No, seriously. The part I enjoy most probably is the possibility to create pictures and whole scenes in peoples minds. To describe a feeling, a situation to the fullest, using a few metaphors here and there. Like, the character feels the air tensen up around him, and so does the reader at the same time.

You as a writer hold the power to form whole worlds at your very fingertips. And as soon as the words flow, you make it possible. And that’s what I love about writing.

3. Least favorite part of writing.

And as much as I love writing, I hate when it doesn’t work. When my mind isn’t able to work the magic it’s supposed to do. When my mind is empty, when I feel getting more and more depressed the more I overthink. The more I struggle to put words together, no matter how hard I try.

I hate feeling as if I was vulnerable thanks to my own inability of writing at times. I really do. I hate writers block. I get depressed, I get moody and finally, I get stressed out.

Luckily, I manage well enough to say: Alright. It doesn’t work today. Maybe it works tomorrow. Still, it’s nagging on me, the blank document almost mocking me every time I take a glance at it.

It’s a hard hobby. It’s the hardest hobby I probably could have chosen. But that’s also what keeps me going. No matter how depressed I get. 

There’s this quote that inspires me:

“Take your broken heart, make it into art.”

And it always gets me motivated again.

11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

1. There’s an idea, stuck in my head. I don’t think too much about it, but I keep it in the back of my mind. Then more ideas gather around that original idea. Scenes, Conversations and so on. Then, I start to write those ideas down.

2. Good, those ideas are usually not useable for the beginning of the story, but are more of plots and twists for the middle and end. So I have to think further. How do I start a story? I think of ideas, write some of them down and finally find myself in the state of desperation.

3. There’s a lot of crying and curling into a ball as well.

4. Until I, finally, decide to start. Somehow. If it works, it works and I’m happy and I usually keep writing with delight. If it doesn’t work.. well, back to step 3 until step 4 can happen again.

30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.

Okay and here’s where I’m stuck.

I just pick a few I like, okay?

Hidden In The Shadows ( Dishonored / Thief Crossover)

“Curiosity overtook the man, overgrew the fear in his heart that told him to stop right where he was standing. But what could happen to him that could be worse than the situation he was already in? He was a dead man already.”

Alone ( Borderlands ) //Not uploaded yet//

The silence that fell upon the room once more felt suddenly so much heavier, so much thicker, making it hard to breathe. Every second lasting a lifetime and maybe even longer. Vaughn didn’t dare to look at her any longer. His anxiety keeping him from it. The anxiety that he wasn’t able to keep her close for just one and a half eternities longer than that moment. Impossible. 

Shattered ( Hetalia )

But yet, his heart started to beat painfully in his chest once again. Emil shouldn‘t care if this stranger was texting him or not. And yet, it broke his heart, shredding it into pieces. After all, after their talk, Emil felt, for the first time in forever, understood by someone.How they had talked for such a long, yet so short, while and how they actually made the light-haired laugh which noone had managed to do for a while. Too long.Emil bit down on his lip, hard enough for him to believe that he would draw blood in just a moment.It had been stupid to begin with, to think that a stranger, who just happened to be on the other end of the line, would care enough for a boy he had never met before. Maybe the stranger just felt sorry for the boy who had a breakdown in the middle of the night, who was crying and in need for help. So desperate that he called a hotline, so they could fix him.

Not actually lines, but little parts I like best about those Fanfictions.

53. What does writing mean to you?

It means a whole lot to me. It’s a way of expressing me, my thoughts and much more. I love to put my thoughts, my ideas and such into words. To play around with metaphors, with pictures and with feelings and the heaviness that lies within the words I use.

I love to play around with the readers emotions just as much I enjoy to type the words out as they come.

I love words. I love how you can put a sentence simple, for everyone to understand, but at the same time I love how you can put it so differently, in both, meaning and choice of words. 

And this is the power an author has.

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

Don’t give up.Don’t be like me. I gave up far too many times on stories I had in mind, because I thought they were stupid and deleted them in the process.

Try to get something down on paper or document every time you get the chance.

Don’t lose hope. Which I still do often. But even people I look up to, like Kafka, Stephen King or Edgar Alan Poe or J.K Rowling had times where it was bad. Where no word would spill from their fingers and their mind couldn’t concentrate on a single thing they wanted to tell their audience.

Hell, Kafka had months of writers block and got around it with time. 

Just stick to it.

Write it. Let it be bad. Allow yourself to write bad. Keep it. Look at it, make it better next time. No book was written perfectly in just a day. It takes work.

Writing’s a journey, it’s hard, it’s demanding. And it can hurt you in some ways. But it’s worth it, if you stick to it. Face the lows just as much as the ups and appreciate them for what they are. Because lows are also there to forge the author in a way.

(Hell that sounds like straight out of some motivation guide. Sorry)

#personal #wow I really let myself out huh #thanks so much for the ask <3 #I love you so much <3

[brett-buckner-the-dirt]

“I just killed my wife. Is that wrong?”

Needful Things

The devil has come to Castle Rock, Maine.

It stands to reason. Lord knows every other kind of Big Bad has turned Stephen King’s tiny fictional town into its personal hunting ground. Long before Pennywise made Derry the epicenter of evil, there was Castle Rock, where deputy sheriff Frank Dodd strangled women in his rainslicker (Dead Zone). It’s where a rabid St. Bernard ripped out the throats of people who loved him before trapping a woman and young child in their Ford Pinto (Cujo). Castle Rock is where four boys set out from in search of the body of Ray Brower, leaving their childhood behind in the process (The Body).

All those nightmares were just the opening act. When Leland Gaunt arrives in Castle Rock to open an antique store, he knowingly lights the fuse of quiet hatred that’s been simmering among friends and neighbors, then stands back to watch the explosion with a satisfied grin.

Touted as the “final Castle Rock story,” Needful Things was long on promise, long on plot, long on social commentary … but mostly, it was just long. By the time Needful Things was published, King had become known less as the “Master of Horror and Suspense” and more as the guy who wrote incredibly long, self-indulgent novels.

Needful Things has an interesting premise. Mysterious man comes in an opens a store (come to think of it, this sounds an awful lot like Salem’s Lot), selling treasures specific to his customers who what the items so badly, they don’t think twice about playing “little pranks” on someone in exchange.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt … or in typical King fashion, two women hack each other to death with a butcher knife and a meat cleaver, or the Catholics and Baptist have a rumble in the street like something straight from The Outsiders.

Cool.

Only it takes King soooooo long to get chaos rolling that getting all the way to the penultimate showdown is more of an endurance test for the reader that doesn’t have much of a payoff. King’s writing is stellar as is his character development throughout the novel. He’s a victim of his own weighty idea.

Leland Gaunt is evil. There’s little doubt. But he’s largely a spectator. He motivates the townspeople, but their tricks must steadily build from annoyance to catastrophe, which takes time … or in King’s case pages, 690 pages to be exact. Needful Things sinks beneath the weight of it’s number of characters and their endless backstories.

It’s an interesting story that just takes too long to develop.

But that, ladies and gentlemen, is why God made movies. Or, to be more specific, why God made movie adaptations of Stephen King novels. The film version – which, full disclosure, I didn’t even know existed – is a master class in taking King’s bulky ideas and whittling it down to something that can be digested like popcorn.

It also doesn’t hurt to have an all-star cast led by the politely menacing Max von Sydow as Leland Gaunt (makes sense for the guy who played The Exorcist to now play the devil). While Gaunt isn’t necessarily defined as THE devil, there’s defiantly something supernatural and sinister about the old shop owner. Fortunately, Castle Rock is defended by Sheriff Alan Pangborn, played by the fierce Ed Harris, who sniffs out Gaunt’s intentions just as all-out war breaks out in the street.

But for as good as von Sydow and Harris are, it’s J.T. Walsh as the hilariously unhinged Danforth (Buster) Keeton who truly steals the show as Gaunt’s number one source of murderous rage and destruction.

I can’t fully express how surprised I was by this movie. Save for a few cheesy effects that were mainly a sign of the times, the adaptation of Needful Things did a wondrous job in fixing some of the main flaws in King’s original. Aside from streamlining the narrative and pruning off some of the extraneous characters, filmmakers did away with King’s bizarre standoff between Sheriff Pangborn and Gaunt, which revealed Gaunt’s true dark nature.

Instead, they recognized that audiences would like von Sydow’s Gaunt and thus allowed him to, not necessarily win, but to escape the fires with a wink and a smile.

Thus far in my HorrorFest journey, Needful Things is the perhaps the most unique adaptation of a King novel I’ve watched thus far. While it improved on King’s original, it also made reading King’s novel necessary to better appreciate the movie.

Great, big ideas can be difficult to fully realize on the page, but on screen such tricks can light the fuse of inspiration … and blow up a town.

Up Next:

Secret Window – Based on the novella Secret Window, Secret Garden from Four Past Midnight, it’s the story of what happens when an author is accused of plagiarizing a lunatic who isn’t very forgiving.

  HorrorFest 2017: Needful Things “I just killed my wife. Is that wrong?” Needful Things The devil has come to Castle Rock, Maine.

#Halloween