#like. dude. even if by some fucking crazy ass magic I managed to be racist against *white* people

[samferd]

Some guy in my English class called me racist because I don’t include white people in people of color. Babes, that’s not at all what it means.

#seriously I got no idea what he was talking about #and then he said that I was saying racial slurs and no???? we weren’t?????? #me and the besties were so fucking confused like the conversation didn’t even include him in it???????? #like. dude. even if by some fucking crazy ass magic I managed to be racist against *white* people #I’m also white so like #I got no idea what he was thinking about me somehow being racist against white people #like. im not super tan to the point that you might mistake me for a Hispanic person #in fact I’m like. the lightest skinned person in the classl #stupid #anyways that’s my rant how we doin babes

[whatwashernameagain]

Keep him safe - Chapter 34

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 9.007

Warnings: Roman and Virgil’s horny thoughts (not explicit), slight mention of cross dressing, scratches, political criticism, cursing – let me know if I forgot one!                 

Summary: Detective  Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have  made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however, feels a  lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he  cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan  finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly  have received from his costumary clumsiness.   Meanwhile his partner  Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little  delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite  against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It  would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: Thanks to @sebthesnipe​ for proof reading even though she is the busiest person in the world and to @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2​ for being amazing and running the KHS Discord server for two amazing years now.

Chapter 34

“Hey asshole, pick your shit up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Virgil screeched at the unsuspecting dog walker from his spot at the front door of their apartment building, already seething with anger. He’d just gotten back from his early morning training at Talyn’s place and had been looking forward to finishing it with Logan, who was currently on his run. And now this dirtbag was getting all up in this shit – or… Virgil was getting up in the dude’s shit. Well sue him!

The man startled, looking down at the cigarette butt he’d tossed to the ground carelessly.

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t just call me an asshole over nothing! Who do you think you are? Where I throw my fags is none of your business.”

Oh, that had been a mistake.

Virgil abandoned his attempt to unlock the door and got right into the man’s face, ignoring the bulldog happily yaping around his heels. He was so ready for this.

“Over NoThInG? Listen up, you hollow walnut!”

Before he could start ranting properly, a familiar tall man wearing a band tee with a ripped collar, no shoes and wild eyes materialized next to him.

“Oohh yay, are we throwing away our stuff???” He cheered, immediately emptying his pockets and throwing everything on the ground with glee. Bloody tissues, clothespins, a folding knife, crumbling dog treats (immediately slobbered away by enthusiastic dog) and a worn, tiny bible. Papers immediately started spilling out of it – some filled with scribbled thoughts or to do lists, others with faded printouts. In his back pockets he found a bunch of candy wrappers he immediately threw up to rain around himself, unintentionally tossing a pocket Quran along with it which he hastily fumbled with so not to drop it.

Virgil ducked out of the radius of his debris, as usual weirded out and awed in equal parts by professor Duke. The dog-walker looked at him like he’d just bitten off his own foot.

“The hell? Fags aren’t the same as your garbage, you crazy freak!” The man exclaimed, thoroughly disturbed.

“No, dude. They’re much worse!” Virgil growled, ignoring Remus trying to free his fingers from a distressed looking worm on a string he’d gotten tangled in. Quite a few people had stopped to watch them, yet with the professor cheerfully making a scene next to him, Virgil managed to keep his head high despite the heat and anxiety making his heart race.

“Cigarette butts contain over 4000 toxic substances and are virtually indestructible.” The young delinquent hissed. “The filters are made of a plastic called cellulose acetate and they take 10 years to decompose completely- just one of those fucks poisons one cubic meter of water and kills all the fucking fish in it.”

“You should pick it up, friend. Before I get ideas about where to put it out.” Remus cooed sweetly, before ruining the elegant subtly of his threat by becoming way too graphic.

“In your face!” He screeched, flailing grandly and wiggling his fingers, the bulldog distracting him by nosing at his pockets, hoping for more treats. Its owner used the chance to sullenly grab his cigarette stub and get away.

“You shouldn’t have a doggy-dog if you can’t handle being a clean boy!” Remus hollered after him, way too loud and shameless. “Do you not wipe your ass after you take a shit either? You naughty, dirty boy? Is it a sex thing? That is the one sex thing you keep in your bedroom!”

Virgil was blushing thoroughly, not enjoying the attention despite the righteous fire still fueling his anger. What the fuck was wrong with people throwing their garbage on the ground? What were they thinking? Not only did somebody else have to pick it up, it also fell apart to become microplastic and the nicotine, tar and heavy metals – all 4.5 trillion of them that were thrown away each year. Fuck smokers who did that! They were what was wrong with the word! Seriously, could you be any more of a useless human if they were not even able to throw their trash away properly? Full offense, Virgil wanted to kick them in the face.

People were staring and murmuring around them and though he didn’t feel bad about his reaction, his heart was still in his throat at all the attention.

“What? Are you not entertained enough, you mindless sheep?” Remus roared brightly, spreading his arms and bouncing up and down on his toes, placing himself in front of the younger man. “Would you like me to sing you a song about the misfortunes of little Jimmy who doesn’t pick up his litter? Spoilers – he gets eaten by an octoshaaaark!”

He struck a dramatic pose and drew a deep breath. People started fleeing.

“Aw dang.” Remus pouted.

Virgil chuckled, feeling surprising affection well up in him. Remus was scary, yeah, definitely, but he was also an ally to his cause, and that meant a lot to him.

Crouching down and using the opportunity to let his hair fall over his face, he started picking up the non-bloody articles Logan’s neighbor had scattered on the ground.

“Why do you have a bible and a copy of the constitution?” He asked, trying to shake the paper from his fingers and finding it disconcertingly sticky. Was that a cough drop? Ugh, he’d have to disinfect his whole body.

“For arguments with conservatives!” Remus answered happily. “I like slapping them in the face with the dick that is my arguments every time they go all bibly-christiany on me! They don’t love the fact that Jesus was a sandal wearing liberal that much – a lot like I am, actually! Not that facts work well with them – I found that barking and bending over backwards with your tongue lolling out works best. Makes an impression!”

He’d settled down next to Virgil cross-legged, bouncing his knees, and started munching on the dry little cookie thingies the bulldog had missed. “Dog treat?” He asked generously, holding one out.

“Why?” Virgil asked, completely bewildered. They were, indeed, little bone shaped dog treats.

“I like the way they crunch!”

“…okay.”  

Virgil still tried to make sense of the interaction he was currently having and found that using facts was indeed a lost cause with many republicans – which in this case was a generous euphemism for racists and Nazis, so one could just as well try what the crazy man did. Not everyone deserved to have a stage, after all.

Quietly, he examined the other. The ripped T-shirt made the wide collar slip down one of his skinny shoulders and the jeans he wore had definitely seen better days. His dark skin didn’t do much to hide the bluish shadows under his eyes. And also his naked, dirty feet were disgusting.

Dumping the stuff he’d picked up into the professor’s lap, he stood up. “Take a shower and come up at twelve, I’m making veggie burgers.”

There would be so much complaining once Roman found out he’d invited Remus.

***

Logan ran a hand through his sweaty hair, pulling the damp, raven locks out of his face. His muscles were burning pleasantly from his run and he was looking forward to his post workout stretch with Virgil. It would be illogical not to use the knowledge of an experienced gymnast for advice, after all. Though his little delinquent was still shy about it, the detective found he appeared to enjoy exercising together, as long as they were doing it in the safety of Virgil’s room where he could comfortably hide in his oversized sweaters.

His thoughts amusedly circled back to the way Virgil had to shake his hands free from his overly long sleeves whenever he reached for his feet while he fumbled his keys free from the little pocket sewn into his close-fitting trousers. As usual, Logan fetched the mail on his way up, sighing as a stack of colorful envelopes fell into his hands. Glitter rained down from one of them. With more gentleness than he felt inclined to, he beat the stack of bulging papers against the side of the building to loosen the shimmering plastic particles. Did this action constitute a case of littering, he wondered. He resolved to bring down his vacuum cleaner to deal with the mess after his shower.

On his way up, the detective separated the pile into his and Roman’s mail, ending up with sensibly sized, white envelopes in one hand, and a bunch of offensively colored, suspiciously rattling, sticker covered, perfumed fan mail his partner was greedily waiting for. He kicked the professor’s apartment door closed as he passed it, satisfied to hear him mumbling over the running shower in the also open bathroom.  

Roman was already lurking in the opened door to Logan’s own apartment like a silk-clad dragon looking to expand his hoard, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. Logan rolled his eyes. Despite having received letters for a week already, he was still overly enthusiastic about them every day. And he still refused to get them himself, instead he let Logan hand them to him exasperatedly like some strange ceremony.

The young detective snatched the pile eagerly, pouting as Logan held back two of them, not liking the powdery, sandy sound they were making when he tilted them. It was likely more beads or glitter, yet they still went into the box by the door to be checked in the lab (as they all should). He had ordered the post office whose address the fan-mail was sent to, to be extra vigilant before delivering the mail to his apartment, but he would most certainly not put the safety of his family at risk. He wondered, once again, whether he ought to borrow a service dog to check the mail for – preferably the rest of their lives actually.

“Look, Patton fairest, what the wind has blown in!” Roman sang cheerfully, twirling around the baker gracefully and then taking him for a spin and dip.

Patton giggled, stumbling and holding on to the tall detective, getting his lovely curls all tangled up in the frame of his glasses.

Smiling contently, Logan slunk into Virgil’s room to engage in what he hoped to turn into a routine. The young man was already waiting for him – playing on his phone curled up on the dresser between the planet lights he had kept, hair curling slightly with dampness from his private routine in Talyn’s gym he was slowly taking up again.

Meanwhile, Roman flopped onto the couch and yanked Patton into his arms enthusiastically, wanting to share his happiness and also maybe trying to distract him a little bit from his preparations for his return to the café. He wanted to support his friend, he really did, but he couldn’t help trying to put off unpleasant tasks for as long as possible instead of facing them. It was an issue he’d always had – one that had driven Logan half-crazy before he’d started to deal with many of those tasks himself and handed over others to Roman instead. They were making it work.

Roman didn’t actually have to do anything for the café, but the plan to reopen it, no matter how much Patton needed it, still made him antsy. Trevor-the-villainous-fiend could be lurking there. Who knew what could happen? After all, they had neatly avoided any contact, despite how often he had secretly talked the little baker out of calling him in the night when he’d been frightened and guilty. Which had been a lot of times. Better not tell Logan about that.

Well, distracting himself until the problem went away or got horribly unavoidable was a strategy that had gotten him through life just fine (now that he had Logan to read his paperworky-mail which he had an almost insurmountable aversion against dealing with), so he cuddled the baker close and settled in for some pleasant distractions.

Patton probably knew what he was doing, considering the way he pushed their cheeks together and hummed sweetly. Ugh, Roman felt so loved, it was too much for words. He squeezed Patton’s little body at his side closer to himself, just needing to hold on so suddenly. He loved him so much his heart was pounding with it. Feeling giddy with it, Roman jiggled and rocked them happily, delighting in the laugh he elicited.

“Alrighty, my most precious Patton, shall we discover the adoration of my beloved fans together?” The young man cheered, bright with eagerness.

“Yes! Now that I’m enveloped in a hug letters begin!”

Pulling his legs close to curl comfortably into Roman’s hug, and lean against his warm, broad chest, Patton selected the first envelope – a loudly patterned lilac one. Roman ripped it open with childish pleasure.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” He cooed, the sound almost too high for a man this large. “Isn’t this the most delightful thing you have ever seen, my fairest friend?!”

He was unfolding a drawing of himself in full superhero regalia, cape and sash and all, clearly drawn by a little child. Picture Roman was holding hands with a little kid each – a dark skinned girl in a princess dress and a blonde child of indeterminable gender due to the quality of the drawing. They were wearing a knight’s armor with a lightsaber as much as he could tell. It was adorable and Patton was putting it on the fridge. His eyes were watering at how cute it was.

“Oh.my.god. Virgil, my starry night, come here and see this!” Roman howled, very close to Patton’s ear.

The grumbling from next door indicated the delinquent’s feeling about the nickname as well as the interruption.

Roman waved the letter around with so much enthusiasm it nearly dislodged Patton. With a squeak, the baker held on to the tall man’s neck, even though the strong arm around his waist held him safely where he was almost pulled into Roman’s lap entirely.

Virgil, dressed in a mix of his old gymnastics’ clothes and his newer, oversized hoodie that hid as much as possible and fell all the way over his hips, didn’t really feel like being seen by the attractive detective right now. He didn’t mind Logan seeing him in his pants that fit his toned, long legs like a second skin, but with Roman, he felt a little more self-conscious. Especially about the combination with the ratty, overly long hoodie.

He used to wear tight fitting shirts that he now knew could look quite enticing when they slipped up his middle as he stretched or exposed his shoulders, but he didn’t feel confident enough to pick them out himself anymore. He wanted to look pretty for Roman more with every day, but considering the way the man had seen him in the past, he didn’t know if he could pull it off. Maybe Roman would feel like he was dressing up like a whore again - wearing a costume to seduce him. He didn’t know what made him so reluctant to dress better, it was just – such a big step and he didn’t know how to go about it anymore. So he wrapped his arms around his middle and hoped not to look too annoyed and uncomfortable. Especially considering how happy Roman appeared. So bright and innocent.

He was radiant.

And he was reading fan mail.

Virgil didn’t love the fan mail. Not at all. Remy had been forced to listen about it for a long time. He just hated the thought of those dirty minded, thirsty bitches getting to tell his man about all of the horny things they came up with while they drooled over his pictures. The fuck was wrong with them, trying to steal his- his- argh Virgil hated them with a passion, okay?! Who knew what ideas they were putting into that beautiful idiot’s head?

Remy was still patient with him thought, however the fuck he managed to do it. Virgil had the feeling he was being indulgently laughed at when he raged about the letters over the phone. So what if he hadn’t actually read any of them?! Roman kept singing their praise to anyone who would listen, why would he need to look at them himself? He was sure they were every bit as awful as he imagined.

Roman looked too happy with them. Fuck that.

He really looked quite happy, actually.

Virgil slowed his steps suspiciously.

Giggling, Roman flattened the paper before his eyes to read to Virgil. He even tried to do the voice. A voice Virgil immediately recognized.

‘Tell my anxious doll to, like, not to be such a moody diva and come look at some cute fan mail with his eye-candy detective.’ Roman took a break to preen. ‘I promise you don’t have to be scared, babe. Y’all are just making tasks bigger and scarier by avoiding confrontation with unpleasant chores and then they, like, build up in your messy little minds and that is not cool cause it makes me work for my not-money. So have a letter written by my precious little baby girl angels as a treat, okay girlfriend?’

“Awwwww so sweet!” Patton sighed.

Roman looked thoughtful for a moment as he pulled out the third sheet of paper written with a rainbow pencil, probably by Emile since the girls were too little to write themselves. The words were all enthusiastic little girl, though.

“How would you feel about looking at just one or two letters with us before returning to my dearest partner?” Roman asked sweetly. “They truly are quite entertaining. Just yesterday I received one from the utterly ravishing miss Van der Beek. All her other friends promised to write as well. It turns out I am quite popular with distinguished ladies with more experience enjoying the finer things in life!”

“What he means to say, kiddo, is that old ladies just love our dashing prince. Most of those are sent by the cutest grannies from retirement homes.” Patton explained with a warm smile that was just a little mischievous. “That doesn’t mean they’re all innocent, though.” He added cheerfully. Truthfully, he was already itching to get his hands on the hilarious letters. Those ladies really weren’t shy and Patton secretly wanted to be just like them someday. Enjoying the good life and making the best puns about butts.

Roman didn’t mind the fact that most of his paper-mail was written by children and elderly women (and grandpas, sometimes). He received emails and even digital art from younger fans as well, and he adored them, so, so much, but since he couldn’t keep them in a box with the pictures and drawings and ribbons and whatnot he enjoyed the letters even more. He just loved how creative they were. They really made him feel special. He should have known they’d make his dearest raven anxious, though. He really hoped to put him at ease with this gentle introduction Remy had created for him. And it worked! Of course it did – Remy’s children were the most precious things in the world! He could barely wait for their play date next weekend!

He was a little relieved to find the other letters they opened to be just as fun and cute. They usually were. Patton had a talent for selecting the nice ones from looking at the envelope alone. Not all letters were super sweet of course, but that was why he rarely opened his fan-mail alone. Both Patton and Logan made the creepy ones disappear quite quickly. Virgil could handle those, Roman was sure, but there was one person whose letters would just upset his dear wildcat.

They’d come in fine, yellow envelopes with pressed yellow roses inside and were written in the most beautiful calligraphy he’d ever seen. Recognizing the handwriting on the outside, Roman had squirrelled them away quietly. He hadn’t been able to stop running his fingers over the gracefully curved ink and flowing, tender words for a long time. Guiltily, Roman kept them in a separate box. He didn’t know how to contact his nemesis/admirer and wanted to let them down gently, after all. Before he caught them to lock them away, of course. He just wasn’t entirely ready to give up this feeling. He’d never been courted this way before and it had softened him towards his nemesis.

Virgil returned to Logan more relieved than he had been before, especially since Miss Van der Beek’s friends had come through and had written the most outrageous fan-mail. Roman huddled up comfortably, opening one last letter with Patton before lunch. It was a square, heavy envelope made from cream colored thick, expensive paper. The card inside was heavy and decorated with ornate, delicate gold finishing on the curved corners. It opened in the middle and admitted a view of a beautifully printed card. It read

Invitation

to the Morgan’s annual charity ball 2020

at the Ritz Carlton

 All the air seemed to have left the room. The paper tilted in front of Roman’s eyes and slipped from his numb fingers.

*

“I just don’t understand – after all those years…” Roman stared at the invitation, almost vibrating with nervous energy. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his father’s face turn to stone as he refused to change his ways after nana’s burial. Even after such a long time, it was still crystal clear in his mind.

He wanted to jump up and pace frantically, yet he couldn’t bear to lose the grounding touch of the men gathered around him. Patton had pressed himself against his side as tightly as possible while Logan stood over him, tall and solid, keeping a firm hand on the back of his neck. Only Virgil was sitting with some distance between them since he was clearly too upset to soothe anyone. The golden embossed paper seemed to cause his fury to boil over almost entirely by itself. He looked pale and angry and… he snatched Roman’s sleeve with a thin hand, holding on tightly. His eyes were dark and so hurt on Roman’s behalf.

“They chased me away. Why would they want me there now?” He asked softy, looking at his family with a lost, helpless gaze.

The young detective agonized over the invitation for most of the day, carrying it around and reading it over and over again. Even the presence of Remus during lunch didn’t manage to get a rise out of him in this distraction, which clearly made the professor sulk. Especially since he had a few words to say about those republicans! Thankfully, Virgil and Logan made him some calming herbal tea after lunch (leaf piss, in his opinion but okay), and spent some time debating the advantages of actually murdering and eating the rich while nesting on Logan’s cozy balcony. Patton took Roman’s hand to go on a walk to help him clear his head. It helped.

“A Prince doesn’t shy away from a challenge. I owe it to my pride to go. I can and will do this with my head held high!” He proclaimed proudly at the dinner table the same night. Patton squeezed his hand in support, smiling at him warmly.

*

“I can’t do this! What was I thinking???” Roman wheezed, trying to calm his racing heart the next morning. “This is the height of hubris – I have fallen victim to the folly of man! There is no way I’m going!” He howled, pulling on his hair and staring at the letter like it would explode. What had he been thinking???

*

By midday, Roman proudly projected his voice through the entire flat from his perch on the coffee table. “I will be proud and gallant and dazzle everyone with my charming compliments and dashing appearance and my family shall be devastated to see what they missed when they threw away their most glittery offspring!”

His figure was bathed in the brightest sunlight. His fears forgotten, Roman was ready to take on anything!

*

“What if it was a mistake? Is this a mistake?” Roman wailed, flailing around with the mangled invitation in hand only an hour later. His eyes were wild. He’d been carrying the expensive paper everywhere with him, swinging erratically between nervous episodes of self-doubt and fear of his father and loud and boisterous assertions of confidence. His hair had become an utter mess from running his hands through it during dramatic monologues and moments of insecurity alike. The others were trying to allow him to come to a decision himself, but the lovely detective appeared to be coping poorly with the freedom.

Half an hour later, he was once again standing on the couch, posing heroically.

“Finally they shall see what a marvelous protector their son has become! A shining knight! A handsome hero dressed in blue!” He boasted, wide eyed and clearly trying to convince himself of his own worth – even as he was asserting his superiority, he was slipping into a pit of self-hate.

Virgil wanted to kill someone.

Seeing this beautiful, confident man spiral so deeply into mental instability because of a letter was ripping him open inside with nowhere for the blood and fear to go but the boiling maelstrom that was his protective fury.

That wasn’t what Roman needed now, though. Taking a deep breath, the barista reached for his man.

Virgil grabbed a hold of Roman’s surprisingly trim waist and pulled his heavy body down next to him. His mood swings between elation and terror were wearing the young man thin. Resigned and too tired to overthink, he yanked the already slightly worn invitation from the tan hands, chucked it on the coffee table, and folded his body onto the large detective’s lap in the wild, desperate hope to pin him down finally. He seemed to love when Patton did it.

The bold move made him sweat with anxiety, yet it was a much more comfortable form of comfort than talking about the issue and ending up insulting Roman’s family as he so desperately wanted. Physical contact had helped calm Roman down most so far, but Logan wasn’t here to grab his partner in a silent, firm hug that squished him against his chest until he grew quiet and Patton was on the phone with his staff, so no tangling his soft limbs with Roman’s now either.

Virgil had tried to keep his distance from the issue after Remy had explained that Roman needed to make his own decision. He probably hadn’t meant brooding in silent fury (while telling Patton what he was angry about and awkwardly reminding him that he loved him all the time).

He couldn’t help hating that republican trash that was Roman’s parents even more than before, though. He wasn’t confused about their motivations for a second. Those filthy pieces of shit were sensing an opportunity to improve their reputation with millennials who were rallying against billionaires who exploited the world – the environment as much as their workers – without even paying fucking taxes. Seriously, fuck Trump, fuck Jeff Bezos, fuck the Morgans! They would try to use Roman’s fame and honesty to claim him as a token to show off to liberals, to make themselves look tolerant and likeable with their beautiful, gay hero son. He was acceptable when it was useful to have a diversity card they could pull in debates, now that their homophobia and racism wasn’t as accepted as it used to be. Fuck them with a broken chair.

He couldn’t say all that, though. He’d just make Roman defensive in this terrible way that left Virgil nothing to work with. The taller man was never aggressive with him. Instead he grew quiet and sad and tried to make Virgil feel safe by being submissive and gentle and letting him have his way as he swallowed all of his pain and fear for everyone else’s sake. Roman didn’t need his anger. Logan had already gently told him about all of the fears he and Virgil shared and had offered his support, he didn’t need a reality check Virgil was desperately holding back. Roman knew they were using him – intellectually at least. Yet, his heart was probably hoping they were finally willing to love him.

So Virgil pulled himself together and silently leaned his lithe body against Roman’s broad chest and tried to gather the courage to say yes to the lovely man’s unspoken question.

The invitation contained a plus one.

Virgil had seen the way Roman’s gaze had sought him out hopefully. He wanted him there, which was astonishingly sweet, since Virgil was… well. Virgil. The fact that Roman, who was beautiful and elegant and charming to a dazzling degree wanted to show Virgil on his arm when he knew how judgmental this fucking crowd was, when he knew what they would think…

Yes, it was also completely and utterly terrifying.

Seriously. A charity ball. At the fucking Ritz? Even young and not so messed up Virgil would have hated the thought with the passion of any idealistic, liberal activist. Fucking corrupt money bags trying to look like they cared while they marinated in their arrogance and wealth while kids in America couldn’t pay for their school lunch and went hungry. While they supported putting fricking kids in actual fucking cages seriously what the fuck this really was the cursed time-line.

Also was there a person alive on this planet who fit the aesthetic of the fucking Ritz less than he did? He didn’t think so. Fuck he needed Remy now. He’d promised to help, thank Tesla. Virgil was clinging to that voice in his memory that had told him to ‘breathe, doll. Daddy has fixed lots of tiny girl hair and fashion disasters in his time. We’ve got this, okay, babe?’

Sure. Dressing a feral bat like Virgil for a FUCKING BALL was a piece of cake.

Well, first he needed to see if Roman actually wanted him to come or if that had all been in his head and Virgil was about to humiliate himself so badly, he would have to move out and change his name. Maybe Roman hadn’t asked yet because he wanted to avoid pressuring him with something he knew he was anxious about. OR he had recognized how badly Virgil would look on his arm.

Virgil felt like he couldn’t breathe for a terrifying moment. He used his position in Roman’s lap he’d chosen in a moment of courage to hide his face against the tan, smooth skin of the detective’s neck.

A deep breath left the taller man as Virgil curled close. He wrapped his arms around the thin body and sunk against him gratefully. The purple mane was so soft against his cheek. All thoughts drifted away – invitations as much as sunflower-yellow letters – leaving only the sensation of warm breaths against his skin and a gracefully curved back under his palms. Everything seemed to quiet, to slow down.

Virgil’s body moved slightly with every breath. He was so warm and alive, such a grounding weight in his lap. He arched against his chest willingly to press himself closer, letting Roman feel the way his ribs expanded on every inhale. The darkness behind the young detective’s closed eyes felt soft and safe. He gently moved his palm over the prominent spine, between wing-like shoulder blades. Stress flowed from his body like water. Slowly, their embrace lost its purpose and became lazy and comfortable, a hug for no other purpose than allowing them to exist so close to each other.  

After what felt like a long time of soft tenderness, Roman felt Virgil tense again, knowing he had to get it over with. He couldn’t keep hiding in a cute cop’s arms for the rest of his life because he was embarrassed.

“Listen, man…” He murmured quietly, pulling back slightly. Despite Roman’s hands still resting loosely on his hips, now that he wasn’t curled up and hidden anymore, he felt silly and out of place, suddenly. He really had just sat down in Roman’s lap, huh? What the fuck, Virgil? Heat rose to his cheeks and that just made things a lot worse. He pushed his head down and braced his palms on that hard chest and barreled on.

“Uhm, about- about that invitation. I know you’re anxious about it, and I’m really not good with that shit – I mean – that’s obvious, considering-” He gestured to – all of himself self consciously. “I really don’t know anything about your, eh, your social class and those fancy parties and shit. We’re from pretty, pretty extremely different backgrounds after all, and-”

Roman’s large hand rose to tip Virgil’s blushing face up in order to reassure him (and because it made him feel like a chivalrous knight). His fingers found the pale delinquent’s throat instead. Feeling the racing pulse, he curled his hand around the slender neck right under the jawbone with utter gentleness and brushed it upwards, pushing his chin up slowly.

Virgil’s breath hitched upon feeling the intimate hold he was captured in. It would be easy for the grip to turn punishing, yet he only brushed his thumb over the edge of his jaw and that felt very, very good. Vulnerable in all the right ways.

“What are you trying to say, dearest?” Roman rumbled softly, catching the younger man’s attention from where it had wandered to inappropriate places.

“Uh…” Virgil needed a moment. Roman’s eyes were so vividly green, like sunlight filtered through freshly grown, thin leaves. His mascara made his lashes so long and dramatic and so pretty.

I, uh…” He stuttered again. Roman was biting his lip in amusement, so pleased to have muddled Virgil’s brilliant mind and the barista felt like a useless, horny teenager for the first time in too many years.

A chuckle escaped the detective that was deep and rumbled under Virgil’s palms. He looked at the young man in his lap like he was the sweetest thing.

Feeling his blush flare up, Virgil ducked his head, allowing Roman’s palm to slip onto his cheek. He didn’t force his chin up as he was composing himself. Instead, the manicured hand moved across pale skin and scratched lightly across his scalp. A shiver broke out and raced over the delinquent’s entire back. His mouth fell open in a pleased sigh as he leaned into the caress.

Hell yeah, he could just keep doing that forever, please and thank you. His large palm rested on the pronounced bones of his hip, gripping gently, safely. Virgil could feel the detective’s intense gaze on him like a physical touch. He felt very warm as he leaned closer to that powerful hand in his hair that gave him so much pleasure.

His flush was still hot on his cheeks, yet the heat rising under his clothes wasn’t caused by embarrassment despite the intimacy of the moment. He’d never thought he would be able to let his guard down and be looked at this intimately when Roman made him feel this way. The detective’s other hand moved slowly, brushing up and down his back in the lightest of touches.

Virgil couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped him. It was totally justified, okay? He felt those muscular thighs shift underneath him, adjusting their positions just a bit, so he was brought more securely into the hold of those strong arms and felt a warm breath on the side of his face.

Suddenly, Roman yanked his hand back as if Virgil had electrocuted him, yelping like a frightened dog. His whole body jumped, jostling Virgil.

“The fuck- Cat, what the actual fuck?” The younger man screeched at the ball of gray fur that had wedged itself between them and was furiously hissing and biting at Roman’s hand. The detective flailed and squirmed, unbucking Virgil in the process and dumping him on the cushions as he tried to escape over the back of the couch from the vicious raccoon. He landed face first with a ‘thump’ and an unmanly whimper.

Patton peeked in from the kitchen, phone between his cheek and shoulder, kitten purring in his big cardigan pocket and mixing bowl in hand. Finding Roman trying to twist into a sitting position while his legs were still sticking over the back of the couch and Virgil being slobbered over by an overly affectionate, possessive raccoon, he shrugged and closed the door behind himself. He and Nugget were not getting involved in that particular jealousy triangle. His kiddos would just need to make do.

“Oh shit, Roman, are you okay, dude?” Virgil asked and he knew, he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up his chest.

Cat was squishing her fat butt all over his lap, pawing at his shirt and lovingly gnawing on his fingers, looking fucking pleased, fricking narcissistic levels of proud and awed at her prowess, like she’d owned the biggest, baddest villain of the kingdom, like she’d saved the princess and gotten the whole cake. While Roman – well…

The young detective/tragic victim heaved himself up on the backrest and was immediately hissed at fiercely. He snatched his hands to his chest to protect them from more scratches. Peeking over the couch just enough to look over it, his precious hair a mess and his lovely hands badly wounded, donning his best, hurt puppy dog eyes, he found no sympathy from his beautiful wildcat.

Virgil snorted helplessly.

“I’m sorry-” The barista gasped, really, seriously feeling sorry and knowing he shouldn’t be rewarding Cat, he was creating a monster here, but Roman looked so messed up. All of that magnificent hair that usually made him look like a prince falling over his face in messy, fluffy tufts – that betrayed, gorgeous, hilarious face-

He doubled over, snickering turning to wheezing laughter the more he tried to suppress it, and felt Cat purring up a storm from where she was throned on his lap, Queen of the couch, breaker of horny cuddle sessions, bane of Roman’s existence.

Since the purring somehow seamlessly turned to spitting, frothing hissing whenever Roman got too close, the poor, beaten hero had to settle into the armchair facing the love of his life (stolen by a villainous adversary), where he tried not to mope too much. He felt a very justifiable pout coming up.

However, tears were now streaming down Virgil’s face while he made himself lightheaded trying to scold Cat and repress his laughter. He only succeeded in making himself hiccup and devolve into a new peal of giggles.  

Roman melted into the armchair.

*

They were quietly folding blankets and putting away pillows, comfortable with each other even though Cat was still sitting in Virgil’s hoody, occasionally touching the back of his head and neck and gurgling threateningly.

It was alright.

Roman wasn’t a malicious man.

And he would get her back for this…

Glaring secretly at the bristly beast whenever Virgil wasn’t looking, the young detective finally remembered that they had started a conversation before their mutual attraction had overwhelmed them like swooning lovers in a romantic novel.

Giddy at the memory, he briefly amused himself with imagining them on a paperback cover – his own shirt open halfway over his gleaming, muscular chest, even longer hair flying in the breeze, Virgil fainting in his arms, pale and lovely in a Victorian dress – oh my lord. A flush rose hotly to his cheeks, especially as he imagined that trim waist encased in lace and possibly even a corset.

This time, he felt Cat was justified in hissing at him while she reached for him with sharp little paws, trying to take a swipe, craving destruction.

Thankfully, Virgil took his blush as a sigh of anger as he twisted around and saved the enthusiastically violent racoon from tumbling out of his hood in its quest for blood.

“Sorry, Dude. I’ll figure something out.” He promised.

Roman thought he didn’t look nearly alarmed enough. However… his little bird deserved all the valiant defenders he could get. The beast might make him feel safe while Roman wasn’t there to watch over him like the tireless defender he was. In principle, the young detective would not mind prospective rivals to be scared off. Just not himself, did this beast not have any taste?

Perhaps he’d just have to invest more effort in his quest to win over the scraggly protector of his dashing not-damsel’s honor! That he could surely do!

Filled with a new sense of determination, he maturely stuck his tongue out to the raccoon.

Virgil snorted. He was happy.

Roman liked that a lot.

“Before I forget…” He started casually, remembering how important the question had seemed to Virgil. “You wanted to ask me something before we were torn apart so viciously?”

The barista startled, his heart missing a beat with nervousness. Right. That.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I was just- you don’t have to say yes – obviously! It’s just if you don’t want to go alone- though you probably have plenty of people to go with- I know you have friends and coworkers and… fans… and Logan could go too so you really don’t need me to be in the way but if you want, I – uh…”

“Virgil,” Roman interrupted him gently, hoping with a fluttering heart he wasn’t misinterpreting the stuttering proposition. “Are you offering to go to the ball with me?” He asked gently, quickly adding for his lovely raven’s nerves benefit, “Because while I don’t want to pressure you in any way, going with you on my arm would make me the bravest and happiest man in the world.”

His words were very, very honest. Having Virgil there, as his date, as his to hold in his arm and show off, showing that the gay failure of the family had captured the most beautiful, smartest and strongest creature in the whole word – he would feel like the king in his castle. Nothing could make him feel like he’d succeeded despite being ashamed of his sexuality for so long than to show Virgil as his beautiful prize. Having him would validate all his struggles and make all the suffering worth it.

So no pressure to say yes. Roman was cool with whatever.

Virgil flushed brightly, ducking his head in a familiar gesture to hide under his hair. His heart beat a mile a minute, filling him with awed elation.

And a little bit of terror.

Looks like he was going to the ball after all.

*************************************************

AAAAnd it looks like Virgil will finally need an outfit for the ball. I wonder who will help him???

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated! If you want to support me, here is my Ko-fi page. Love you guys! Take care and treat yourself to something nice <3

Next Chapter

#Keep him safe #Detective AU #Sanders Sides #my writing #Prinxiety #Logicality #Roman Sanders #Logan Sander #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Remus Sanders

[icybeanheadcanons]

What would generic headcanons be for the Grillby of each AU? He's usually a close second for side character that gets asked about a lot, so this will hopefully help you feel out each one 💖 (I'll probably send one in tomorrow or something about the Gasters as well ^~^ Figured this would give you a thing to work on in spare time if your inbox empties again) ~

So for the skellies I had worked on them from undertale and down the list okay… Well for the Grillbys… I worked from Horrortale up to Undertale. It just worked and it was a wild experience honestly. These are long so I’m putting them under the cut so the post doesn’t look fucking ridiculous.

Undertale

Solemnby

-he’s pretty professional at work

-runs a bar still. Took a while to open BUT DAMN IT HE DID IT.

-he’s a decent height in human standards. He’s 5’11. It’s weird having people taller than him, even if he’s not the tallest around it’s still surreal.

-god damn it Classy Bean. The only reason he likes puns is because of this skeleton.

-a great listener.

-gives some pretty solid advice.

-bit of a smartass. “Man I’m tired.” “Maybe you shouldn’t stay up all night then.” “stop talking shit carl.”

-Classy Bean calls him carl time to time to annoy him. It works.

-his bar is relatively chill. Not a lot of people, and it doesn’t attract a whole lot of shady characters. Weirdos seem to be common though.

-He actually loves the liveliness of his bar. It’s perfect and he’s a proud smol business owner.

-He hires someone to do the dishes because that’s a thing he needs done. Besides that he runs it mostly himself.

-a hard worker, gets a little irritate with people who slack off but he isn’t one to snap at you for it. He just doesn’t get not giving your all.

-sarcasm. “I’m going to flip a table!” “Yes because that’ll solve all your problems.”

-He isn’t as quiet as you think and often will give a snarky comment like i’ve mentioned above.

-classical music is nice, and he often listens to it in his free time.

-mom friend who will talk sense into you.

-He says a lot of weird shit when he’s tired though like he suddenly becomes a shitpost generator.

-he’s got an average control of his heat he releases. It tends to heat up when he’s angry and flustered, and it takes a lot of discipline to control.

-don’t worry he’s not gonna burn you but if he starts heating up your skin is gonna turn pretty red.

-a pretty organized dude. Everything has a place. He doesn’t care about a mess, but he generally doesn’t make a whole lot of one before he’s cleaning again.

 Underfell

Jerkby

-kind of a dick god.

-big ego. Undeserved. There is no reason for him to be this god dam cocky what the hell.

-His friendship with Red Boy is weird. It’s that one where you insult each other without meaning it. “Stop fucking drinking all the fucking mustard you freak.” “Not till you stop getting freaky with everyone that comes into this bar Jerkby.” at the end of the day they’re there for each other.

-he does sleep around a lot. Mostly one-night stands. He’d date but he hasn’t found anyone he’s really interested in that way. He’s a jerk but he’s not going to fake being interested in someone romantically god.

-Oh goodness me toll. 8 feet tall. Big fire man. Depending on how sensitive you are about your height he’s going to tease you. Are you an adorable mad or do you look like you have rabies mad?

-can he do anything besides smirk? Pssh no. Genuine smiles are rare and fleeting.

-He gives 0 fucks. He does what he wants. Within reason of course he’s not an animal.

-never killed anyone. Beat the fuck out of people? Hell yes. Nobody fucked with him. He was ruthless and no monster was ever brave enough to try and take him down. Or strong enough.

-How the fuck is fire ripped. Seriously why is he buff? Magic? PSSSSSHHH. Fine. Okay whatever.

-But seriously he’s startling strong.

-his main coat he wears looks like a pimp coat what the fuck. Are you a pimp? Don’t ask him this he’ll punch you in the face.

-whoa, amazing control of his heat. Like whoaaaaaaaaa. Witchcraft… shut up i know he’s made of magic. YOU GET THE POINT.

-a small fondness for animals. He feeds the cats in the alleyway.

-Speaking of alleyways. He’s not an entirely edgy jerk. When he was closing up he found a few homeless people digging in the dumpster behind his bar. He yelled at them and stopped them from running. He brought them inside grumbling and gave them a proper meal. He does this time to time after closing.

-Lets stray animals sleep in the bar after hours during the winter. He spends extra time cleaning because of this.

-his bar is practically a sauna alright it’s always super warm and it’s mostly because of him. He generally counteracts it with air conditioning.

-if people get rowdy in his bar and don’t listen he threatens to turn off the air conditioner. He has done this before. It gets people to suffer fairly quickly.

-not a whole lot gets to him but if you manage to push his buttons he’s quick to anger.

-PAY YOUR FUCKING TAB. He’ll hunt you down he swears to g o d.

 Underswap

Sweetby

-sweet silly laugh. But laughs at inappropriate times or at inappropriate things

-He forgets heat control. Humans start sweating around him and he wonders why they all look all uncomfortable. Oh right! Silly him!

-Runs a cafe, and serves the sweetest cakes and pies in existence.

-his favorite thing to enjoy is apple cider. He can’t drink it because ow, but he enjoys the smell. Has occasionally tried to drink it because he can’t help himself he’s curious.

-Shortie. 4’8. He’s the perfect size no matter what you say.

-if you insult him he just frowns and stares at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. You’re suddenly apologizing and his demeanor shifts to a more cheerful one.

-if you’re mean you’re getting kicked out of his cafe. None of that. Nope. He’s the only menace in his cafe and that’s just because he’s trying to spoop people!

-Will use the cutest words. He adores them they make him giggle.

-Is very happy and cheerful, and loves the little lava monsters that live with him. They help run the cafe and often attract customers.

-The more the merrier in his cafe! He gets money to help his family (the lava monsters) and he gets colorful characters that he likes to chat with.

-Sweetby is a nickname that was given to him from Honey Bear. He loves it because it sounds like Sweet pea (it’s a pun actually which makes him giggle) and calling someone sweet pea is just precious and adorable.

-Adores pastels, and because of this he has the cutest cafe in the entire town.

-Sweetby has a no tolerance policy for a lot of things. Racist? Get the fuck out. Sexist? Get the fuck out. Hate gay people? O u t. He’s having none of that nasty business in his shop.

-would love to shake your hand but he doesn’t want to burn you so he’ll give you an enthusiastic wave. He’s also the type to want to kiss the back of your hand after shaking it, but with his issues with heat control, he simply blows you a kiss and gives a small wink.

-he’s very charming. Despite his odd remarks that are honestly kind of terrifying if you don’t know him very well, he’s lovely company.

-lolita fashion is adorable. He wouldn’t wear it himself, but anyone he does he completely gushes over their outfit.

-a small passion for clothes.

-has this really charming coy smile, and a lot of his regulars seem to have a small crush on him at the very least. He takes advantage of this to get them coming back again and again. He doesn’t lead them on and flirt back but he’s always very polite and kind.

Swapfell

Gruffby

-doesn’t talk much. Only for business.

-Was an arms dealer. When he did sell them to a monster he generally just ended up killing them, gathering the weapons back up and pick the rest of the cash out of the monster’s dust.

-Also ran a shooting range. Monsters were allowed to come let out frustrations. Sometimes he just had targets other times he had weaker monsters as the targets. He didn’t kill these customers since they kept on coming back.

-Nobody fucks with him. Nobody. Gruffby is hardcore and does crazy ass shit.

-bit of a temper. He flares up, scoffing. That’s about it. Not unless you provoke him.

-Provoking him is the worst thing you could do you will die a slow and painful death. What? That’s illegal? He’s angry about this now.

-there are tiny lava fire monsters living in his pockets. He’s a softy for them.

-runs a hunting for game store. (ya know like deer and elk.) He’s happy he can still sell guns, and he is very serious about his business.

-Reserves the right not to sell guns to people. If someone looks sketchy to him then you’re not getting a fucking gun dude. No. You’re yelling like a maniac at him only proves his point. Get the fuck out of his store.

-Do you got a license for that? Buddy ol pal if you don’t…. The cops are on your ass, he’s taking your shit you don’t have a license this is literally him doing the community a service. Yeah he’s a monster who’s killed but that’s not legal on the surface.

-Ends up learning about all sorts of horned animals and birds. He’s gotta know exactly what his guns are being used for to shoot.

-The tiny lava monsters like to get into a pack of bullets and melt them down. Hey you lil fucks what did he say about touching the merchandise? He’s putting them in a time out. You heard him go to the corner.

-The lava monsters crackle at him. He crackles back. It seems like they’re hissing each other.

-At home he falls asleep with the tiny monsters laying all around him.

-he has a really silly sounding giggle laugh.

-DON’T YOU LOOK AT HIM WITH THOSE PUNS. DON’T YOU DARE. he loves puns but hates his laugh.

-he can’t control his eccentric laugh so if you crack a joke he thinks is funny he’s losing his cool.

-friends with Scaryberry. He’d gotten lost in Hotland when visiting Alphys. He could see the fear as he was trying to maintain his bratty and “intimidating” behavior. He didn’t know what got a hold of him but he found himself serving him some tea.

-Loves tea. He doesn’t really get to enjoy it like he wants to but he at least enjoys the aroma of it.

-Scaryberry got him to quit smoking.

-pretty tol. He’s 6’4. If you’re short he’s going to tease you relentlessly but honestly he thinks it’s cute. Part of what he loves about Scaryberry.

-he likes sweet scents. They’re intoxicating and he adores them.

-He has about a billion candles okay, he really likes different smells.

-He’s actually secretly a huge dork that he hides with his edginess.

 Horrortale

Smores

-Chillingly silent. He doesn’t like to talk a whole lot so he’s selectively mute. When he does speak it’s but a few words.

-His voice is raspy, almost like a whisper and you can hear that familiar sound of a campfire.

-For a fire he’s rather cold, literally, as a fire monster it’s alarming how much heat he lacks.

-Knows sign language and will sign rather than speak. Even if he does speak he’s signing at the same time.

-He’s fragile… He isn’t a healthy fire but one that seems to be at the brink of going out at any time. It affects his voice and his body temperature.

-spent his time in the underground hiding away after everything went to hell and his bar shut down. By the time they got out he was on the brink of death before Axe found him.

-Is still recovering mentally and physically from the underground. It took a great toll on him.

-He’s used to food being taken from him, and is a bit of a pushover. He doesn’t have the physical strength to fight back, and he doesn’t have the voice to scare anyone off. He has to suffer in silence since most monsters don’t know sign language.

-he’s angry when people take things from him. All he can do is glare at least that’s what he believes. If he’d done more in the underground at his state he would’ve been killed.

-he spaces out often and frequently. He often becomes out of touch with reality and needs constant reminds as to where he is.

-he’s smol for a monster from his au. With his decrease in strength he shrank and is a 5 foot tall bab.

-He still has bit of a bite when you talk to him, sarcastic and a bit of a smart ass at times.

-He talks in a rather cryptic way like he knows something bad is going to happen. He’s just trying to spook you. He doesn’t know shit. But it sure gives him a giggle seeing that disturb look in your eyes.

-Visits the hospital often. He’s willing to admit he needs help. He’s kind of dying so he’s constantly getting health scares and check ups.

-he enjoys Axe’s sense of humor. Axe visits him from time to time still when he has to stay overnight at the hospital. It reminds him of when the days were good.

-Since he can’t do a lot of things he’s started taken an interest in music. He has an odd selection of music, Melanie Martinez being one of many that appeals to him. His music is rather dark and unsettling, and there are a lot of strange and kind of out there songs he collects. This kind of brings him a bit of peace.

-It takes a while for paper to burn around him now. It scares him. He avoids paper at all costs unless he gets morbidly curious about how bad his health is doing. The longer it takes to burn the worse he is. He doesn’t need a reminder.

-Some days he finds he can’t get out of bed. It’s frustrating and he cries hot tears. He feels so broken and useless on these days. He’s hoping to be able to recover but some days he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to.

-because of his disabilities he’s fallen into depression. He’s still adjusting to everything and suddenly being unable to do things has taken a toll on his mental state which is already pretty damaged.

-He’s fascinated with violins. Their shape is gorgeous, their strings seem like they’re delicate to him but they sound loud and beautiful. He wants to learn to play but if he does recover he will never be able to play again since he’d set the instrument on fire. So he admires from a distance.

-loves alice in wonderland of every shape and form. He relates more to the darker versions though.

-he’s slowly losing memories from the underground. The more they slip away the more it scares him. He isn’t sure this is how he wanted to heal. When he realizes he loses another memory he recounts what he can. Those are… Pretty fuzzy memories…

#general headcanon #grillby #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell #fellswap #horrortale #ut grillby #us grillby #uf grillby #sf grillby #fs grillby #ht grillby #undertale grillby #underfell grillby #underswap grillby #swapfell grillby #fellswap grillby #horrortale grillby #headcanon #ask

[cupofsorrows]

HOWARD LOVECRAFT 4: CRAFT HARD WITH A VENGEANCE

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Time to continue this cursed journey, blighted not by eldritch forces but by sub-quality filmmaking. As you’ll recall (or not), LL Cool Craft and those other two dudes were on their way to beat themselves up a necromancer. Let’s see how well they’re doing:

PRETTY GOOD, IT DOESN’T SEEM.

Except wait, they actually do pretty well, because as we’ve already established knocking a shoggoth out through blunt force is both possible and fairly easy to do, and also because Dr. Armitage has the athleticism of a young Super Mario.

seen here bestowing an orb of discord on the enemy. yes i went back to the zenyatta joke.

Of course, they eventually get captured, and now it’s time for King Abby to reveal his evil plan...

“nah dude I already saw that movie, I know Thanos loses in the end.”

Suffice it to say that basically Abdul wants to “open the Gate of Dreams” because daily life has become soul-crushingly dull.

Like, I get it dude, I’ve worked retail too, but you don’t see me trying to destroy the universe. Anyways, the final journal is hidden behind a magic gateway that apparently only Howard can pass through:

All I can say is it’s a good thing this is an alternate re-imagining of Lovecraft’s life, and not the real version where he was heinously racist basically all the time.

Yes, Howard’s Dad, the animation’s terrible, but it’s looked like that all movie - I don’t understand why you’re just now reacting.

By now it’s time for the tables to turn yet again, through a series of actions I didn’t care enough to cap, and it looks like everyone’s about to escape...

BUT WAIT!

Nooooo Dr. Armitage! You were.......a character in this movie!

All four of them (they got Spot’s astral form in the crystal ball) escape through the portal, but Armitage is wounded in that special animation way where there’s no blood or even clothing damage but you have to hold your side and wince and you can’t walk for some reason. Is he going to make it?

Sorry, kid, but it looks like it’s his time to...return to the university? Um, OK. Oh, but first he can restore Spot to his bargain-bin aladdin-genie form.

Farewell, Doctor. This whole scene was very nearly pointless.

It’s all good, though, because the Three Amigos have a new destination!

This gives Paw Lovecraft plenty of time to ramble about how he came to write the journals (notice throughout how they can’t be arsed to give half of the things in this movie proper shadows but they do make sure to take the extra effort with the beads of sweat on his forehead):

Cool story bro, but I’m still a little unclear about NO NO WAIT I DIDN’T SAY FLASHBACK Aaah dammit, there he goes.

...

You could have given a thousand Lovecraft scholars an entire year to try to guess what might be in this movie and I don’t think a single one would have come up with “awkward Death Note homage”. My hat is off to you, movie. Bra-vo.

(i guess there’s a possibility it’s coincidental, but that’s even funnier because then that means two different people independently had the idea to animate somebody writing in a notebook but make it look as intense as possible, and they both came up with the exact same solution)

Now we’re finally introduced to Doctor West (voiced by Christopher Plummer), the mysterious colleague of Lovecraft Senior whom we’ve AAUUGH

my man I am so, so sorry.

...er, anyway, seems the two of them were working together when they made their big breakthrough. Here we see them as Lovecraft the Elder prepares to journey to either an alien planet or a particularly wild orgy.

...Adding “Stargate” to the list of things I wasn’t expecting this movie to rip off...

And now, at last, we learn why “Undersea Kingdom” was in this movie’s title.

I dunno, dude, it’s a kingdom and it’s undersea. Seems pretty straightforward to me.

Just then, however, Flashback Howard’s Dad is treated to a terrifying sight!

bigchungus.png

“Nice notebook, nerd! Yyyyyyoink!”

...And that’s the state of things now. That’s why DadCraft went nuts and that’s where the last journal is. He timed his flashback well, for they’ve just arrived at their destination:

Yeah, they probably shunned it because some crazy, Edgar Allan Poe-looking fucker was always up there running around and babbling in a nonsense language! I’d shun that place, too!

Underneath the hill is a secret base where Dad suits up to return to the Undersea Kingdom™ - Howard doesn’t need one, on account of the ‘turning into a fish’ thing.

see?

OK credit where credit is due, the actor playing this guy is really making an effort, and I actually sort of chuckled at this bit. His delivery is usually pretty goofy, but I think that’s the way to go here, and even if most of his lines are clunkers because, well, most of the script is clunky, there’s still an undeniable sort of heart behind it. Imdb says the actor’s name is Tyler Nicol, who doesn’t seem to have been in much, and probably can’t stand on the level of the big-name talents in this movie (though I def wouldn’t say they’re all at their best here), but I think he deserves some recognition for trying.

Tangent over, here comes the big fish dude again.

I think we can all guess what his name is...

...Munkus Q. Charliebears! ...Oh, yeah, or Dagon. That would’ve been my second guess.

But it’s OK, he’s on our side! In his minute or so of screen time Dagon manages to deliver probably the most useful exposition in the whole damn film, explaining that he took the journal to keep it safe and that he put up the magic gate that only plucky boy heroes can pass through, as well as laying out some background for Nyarlathotep and his motivation for being involved in this. It turns out that Nyarrblbarbagarbl wants to activate Cthulhu in accordance to the wishes of their mutual father, Azathoth. Now everybody’s hanging out in Dagon’s crib to get at the journal, so our pal Hovercraft had better get moving to get it before the bad guys do. This falls on him, because it was his dad who fucked everything up in the first place and now he’s too cuckoo to fix it himself.

You sure it’s that and not...you know. The racism?

Alright, so everybody up to speed? Everyone understand everything? No? Well too damn bad.

Disappointingly, “Y’ha” is not pronounced “Yeeha”.

(PRONUNCIATION GUIDE THUS FAR:

Tekeli-li - Tekah-leelee

Cthulhu - Kuh-too-loo (probably the way you’ve heard it elsewhere)

Shoggoth - Shuh-GOTH

Nyarlahotep - Nee-ar-LA-ho-tep

Innsmouth - The ‘mouth’ is pronounced that way (i.e. the orifice you eat with) instead of ‘muth’ which I had always assumed

R’lyeh - Ruh-LAY (this is the one I’m most calling bullshit on)

Howard - JEFF-ree

As the goodguys approach, the badguys sense their arrival:

“ ‘WhAt sHaLl i dO, blehhhhh I’m a Dumbass’ That’s what you sound like.”

LMAO YASSS DRAG HIS ASS

Then Howard et al show up on the scene, and it’s time for the Big Bad to make his debut.

OK I like this, I think it’s actually sort of eerie, but it’s too little too late at this point. Also, isn’t Azathoth supposed to be sort of mindless? Or have I gotten him confused with some other ineffable outer being?

I feel like I should say something about the sudden art shift, but I’m approaching the end of my patience and I just want this all to be over already.

Surprise, Mom is still a hostage! Her skin has definitely looked better, too.

LOOK OUT, WALLACE N. GROMIT IS OFF THE SHITS

You know what else he looks like to me? A cartoon mailman. Remove the mask and the hood, add the little mailman hat...do you see it?

Did I mention the trials? No? OK: there are trials.

The fate of the world before him, his family behind him, his meat enormous, Hocus Pocus Lovecraft can do nothing but move forward.

2 B CONTINUED

RIGHT NOW

#hp lovecraft #HLatUK