#Eugene: yeah I like jazz!

[five-rivers]

Ancestral

Danny had been having a rare peaceful, lazy Sunday afternoon when the call came in, relaxing on the couch with the astrophotography book Jazz had gotten him for Christmas.  It was early January, and the ghosts hadn’t come back yet, and the teachers hadn’t assigned too much stuff right after the break, so he was caught up.

It was unusual.  It was nice.  

He should have been waiting for the other shoe to drop.  

The phone rang.  He ignored it.  Anyone calling him would call his cell phone, and his parents were right there, in the kitchen.  

He listened with half an ear as someone - his mother, by the sound of it, although it might have been Jazz - pushed back a chair and walked over to the wall the phone hung on.  

“Hello, this is Maddie Fenton speaking.”

He’d been right.  He smiled a little and turned the page.  Those were some nice nebulas.  

“Matthew?  I wasn’t expecting–  What?  No.  No, that can’t–”  She fell silent for a long minute, quiet except for exclamations of shock.  “Do you know how–?  I understand.  I understand.  Of course we’ll be coming.  I might not agree with- with–  Oh, god.”

There was a sort of heavy sound, and Danny got up, leaving his book on the couch.  His mother was sitting against the wall, under the phone receiver.  Jack and Jazz had both gotten out of their seats, their projects abandoned on the table.  

“Okay,” said Maddie.  “Okay.  I understand.  We’ll be ready to go when they get here.  Okay.  Call me if anything… Alright.  Matthew–  I’m sorry.  I wish–”  She shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  We’ll be there.”  She dropped the phone and let it hang from its cord, the ‘no signal’ noise coming on a minute later.  

“Mom?” asked Danny.  “What happened?”

She looked up.  “Your, um.”  She rubbed at her eyes.  “That was my cousin, Matthew.  Grandpa Alfred and Grandma Rose…”

Those were her grandparents, Danny’s great-grandparents.  Maddie’s parents had died before Danny was born.  

“What happened?” prodded Danny, well aware it couldn’t be anything good.

“They died,” said Maddie, softly.  “A earlier– Last night–  Hours ago.  And so did– So did your Great Uncle Theodore and your Great Aunt Isabella.  And, um, my cousins William and Martin.”

“Oh my god,” said Jazz.  “What happened?  Were they all on a plane together, or…?”

“No,” said Maddie.  “They don’t know what happened.  Aunt Cathrine and Uncle John aren’t doing well, and apparently Vivian is missing.”

Of course Aunt Cathrine and Uncle John weren’t doing well.  Their spouses had just died.  Danny wasn’t doing all too well himself, and he couldn’t say he’d been close to any of them.  They were still family.  

“What about the others?  Lewis and Leo?  Or Iris and George?  Or Joanna and Eugene?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, pushing her hair back from her face.  “Matthew didn’t mention them.  I’m sure if something happened to his kids he would have said something.”

“We’re going, aren’t we, Mads?”

“Yeah,” said Maddie.  “Um.”  She scrubbed her sleeve across her face.  “Kids, go get packed.  Jack, we need Spector Deflectors for all of us.”

“You think it was ghosts?” asked Jack.  

“Six of my family members just dropped dead with no cause of death,” said Maddie, voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.  “Grandma and Grandpa were ninety-eight, but Martin was our age.  And all at once?  It’s just like with my parents…”  She shuddered, then started the process of pulling herself up off the floor.  Jack gave her a hand up.  “There’s a ghost involved.”  She shook her head.  “I warned them.”

She and Jack went to the lab door.  When they got there, she turned back.  “You need to go, showers and pack now.  I don’t know how long it will be before they’ll pick us up.”

“A flight to Chicago from London usually takes eight or so hours,” said Jazz.  “So at least that, unless they sent someone to pick us up before calling.”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie.  “It sounded like–  I don’t know.”

“Alright,” said Jack.  “I’ll take care of things in the lab, you get our things together for the trip.”

“Jack, you can’t do it all by yourself.”

“I’m just getting the deflectors and making sure everything is off.  You’re doing the packing.”

.

Danny knelt on the floor, debating.  The last time they’d visited that part of the family had been before his accident.  There were a lot of things he wanted to bring, but what he could bring was a different story.  The fact was, he had no idea what the plane would allow, much less security and customs, and some of his stuff was incredibly suspicious.  

Vials of green, glowing, liquid, anyone?

Meditatively, he rubbed his hands over the spot in the floor he’d phased his special first-aid kit into.  There was definitely going to be trouble.  It would absolutely be useful to have a way to patch himself up.  If anyone saw some of the more… unusual items, there would be questions he couldn’t answer.  

Maybe he could just take the less suspicious parts?  Nothing with visible ectoplasm in it.  

He phased the kit out from the floor and continued packing.  The funeral would undoubtedly be a formal event, but he knew he’d be doing some snooping, so he wanted to bring something he could move in…

The enormity of what had happened hit him again, and he swayed.  So much of his family…  It didn’t matter that they weren’t close.  Both his heart and his core cried in grief and out for justice.  Maybe it would turn out that it had been some kind of freak accident in the end.  

But if it wasn’t, whoever was responsible would be very sorry indeed.  

As Danny forced the last of his gear into his suitcase - using only a little phasing to get it done - he heard a car pull up in front of Fentonworks.  Then another.  Then another.  

He looked out the window.  Down below were three huge dark gray cars, each one built squat and stout.  If he didn’t miss his guess, the tinted windows were probably bulletproof and the interiors armored.  

They were exactly the kind of vehicle Sam would hate and Tucker would love.  

Oh, crud.  Sam and Tucker.  

He grabbed his phone, belatedly remembering to throw the charger into his bag, and dialed Sam.  

“This is a bit early for you, isn’t it?” said Sam, by way of greeting.  “Did the ghosts finally come back?”

“Um,” said Danny, “no.”  He wasn’t sure how to say this.  “My great-grandparents just died, and, um, my great-aunt and uncle.  And some of my cousins.”

“Oh my gosh, Danny, are you alright?”

“Not really,” said Danny.  “I’m still… processing.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, Mom didn’t say.  We’re leaving right now, and I don’t know how long we’ll be out of town–”

“Danny!  Jazz!  They’re here!” called Maddie from downstairs.  

“I’ve got to go,” said Danny.  “Just keep an eye on things?  Please?”

“Of course,” said Sam.  “Call me when you can?”

“Yeah.  Could you call Tucker, I called you because I knew you’d be awake, but–”

“Danny!”

“I really have to go, thanks, bye!”

He snapped the phone closed and hefted his suitcase over his shoulder.  No more time.  He had to hope things wouldn’t collapse too badly while he was gone.  He had been out of town before.  

But he didn’t know how long this would be.  

He reached the ground floor at the same time his dad came up from the basement, a small amount of ectoplasm splattered on his jumpsuit.

“Are you okay?” asked Danny.  

Jack made a face, but then forced a smile.  “Sure thing, Danny-boy!  Just shutting down the portal while we’re away.”  His smile twitched.  “It’ll… probably be fine while we’re gone.  Shouldn’t be too many more natural portals in town, as long as we don’t leave it off for too long.”

“Right,” said Danny, offering up a very similar smile.  

“Maybe I can ask Vladdie to look after the portal while we’re gone?”

“You’ll have to call him later,” said Danny, hoping Jack would forget.  

They emerged into the entryway, where there were several large men wearing suits.  Danny could see, very faintly, the outline of real guns under their jackets.  One of them was more familiar than expected.  

“Mr. Kynbaz,” said Danny.  Even knowing Matthew was sending someone, he didn’t think it would be Mr. Kynbaz. 

“Hello there, Master Daniel, Dr. Fenton,” said Mr. Kynbaz, with a soft but rather strained smile.  

“I didn’t think you ever left the country,” said Danny, before he could think better of it.

Mr. Kynbaz’s expression twisted in pain.  “We were a only a couple hours north, in Canada.”

“Oh, for Johanna and Eugene?” asked Maddie.  “I’d forgotten they were visiting his father there this year…”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Mr. Kynbaz.  “They left for home on their own plane; we have a charter for you at the airport.”

“Alright,” said Maddie.  “I don’t suppose you have any other news?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am.”

“Alright,” said Maddie.  “Alright.  So, we just… go.”

Mr. Kynbaz nodded.  “If you would let Mr. Rigyn and Miss Blys take your bags, we’ll get you into the cars.” 

Maddie nodded and stepped forward.

“One at a time,” said Mr. Kynbaz.  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but with as little as we know, I don’t want your whole family to be out in the open at once.”

Danny felt himself go pale.  That wasn’t something he’d even considered.  

There was a brief discussion about bringing the GAV instead - it was armored - but in the end they left the house and got into the car one by one.  

Mr. Kynbaz entered last, settling into his seat with a sigh.  He pushed a button on his earpiece and said, “Princess Madeline and family are secured.  Move out.”

#danny phantom #royalty au #ectoberhaunt22 #ectoberhaunt day 12: cause of death #day 12 #ectoberhaunt 2022 #there will be more #ancestral fic

[myrddin-wylt]

Hi! Could you say more on the yao and gilbert disability HCs you put in the tags? This is my shit because I’m legally blind!!! Jazz hands

Yeah! readmore for post length

Gilbert's eyesight and skin sensitivity are complications from his albinism. the NIH says that lack of melanin tends to cause several issues:

poor eyesight – either short-sightedness or long-sightedness, and low vision (sight loss that cannot be corrected)

astigmatism – where the cornea (clear layer at the front of the eye) is not perfectly curved or the lens is an abnormal shape, causing blurred vision (mood!)

photophobia – where the eyes are sensitive to light

nystagmus – where the eyes move involuntarily from side to side, causing reduced vision; you do not see the world as "wobbling" because your brain adapts to your eye movement

squint – where the eyes point in different directions

vulnerability to sunburn, inability to tan

Those are, to my knowledge, very very very common with albinism and I wish they'd be depicted more because there's such a contrast between how albinism is treated in fiction vs irl. Fictional albino characters are usually considered exotic and glamorous whereas people with albinism irl are often shunned, and imo part of the reason for the contrast is that fiction sanitizes the condition (gives them dark eyelashes and brows, doesn't depict unfocused eyes etc) so that the characters are .... basically not disabled. often fictional portrayals of albinism just totally ignore the aspects that make it a disability rather than an oddity.

regarding Gilbert, something very strange I've noticed is that back in Ye Olden Days, it actually wasn't super unusual to see depictions of Gilbert's albinism as having some sort of effect on him (whether it be social or physical, and running the gamut from minor inconvenience to significantly disabling) but I nowadays I just never see it acknowledged at all. that's so strange to me. which is a shame, because you'd think it'd have a significant impact on him, whether that means in his Teutonic days - especially pre-Prussia, where he would've been running around the Levant in all the sunshine and heat that entails - or Kingdom of Prussia and onward. like presumably Gilbert has good reason to be Less Than Thrilled about things like, for example, the popular rise of eugenics.

my thoughts on Yao's disability are more tentative, mostly because unlike Gilbert's albinism, Yao's disability isn't congenital; if anything, Yao has the same problem Arthur has in that centuries upon centuries of injury, misuse while recovering and thus healing incorrectly etc have left him with permanent mobility issues that affect him even when he forms a completely new body. specifically for Yao, it's his shoulder that's fucked up- he can't lift his arm further than parallel to the ground, and even doing that is a struggle for him as it is. the rest of his arm isn't much better and he routinely suffers from muscle weakness and pain, though his shoulder is the biggest issue.

a big problem for Yao is that not having full use of his shoulder completely destroyed his ability to use a bow and arrow, which really fucked with him because my headcanon is that Yao is considered one of the single best archers in history. I'm playing with the idea that his shoulder issues are actually something that contributed heavily to the advent of early firearms; if he can't pull a bowstring, maybe he can still aim a hand cannon? not sure about the success on that and it's entirely likely early firearms just worsened his injuries. whoops. but I do really like the idea as it acknowledges that a lot of inventions came to be as a result of someone trying to accommodate for their disability or that or a loved one.

(Obligatory but important side-note: POC with albinism get significantly worse social ostracization and fetishization than people who would still be considered white without their condition. There are a lot of reasons for this, and it's worth pointing out because the albinism does not make a POC count as "white" - at least in current American culture - even if they're literally white due to lack of melanin, and the because race is a historically-contingent social construct and not determined by genetics etc etc. this has nothing to do with hetalia or Gilbert except that I thought I'd mention it while I was on the subject.)

#ask #anon #myrd's hcs #hetalia headcanons #hetalia hcs #hetalia hc #hetalia headcanon #hws prussia #hws china

[spacesuitsforemergency]

Okay but someone uses the pick up line “Ya like jazz?” on one of the LeBeaus or Gator Gang-

#HOW DID WE NOT THINK OF THIS BEFORE- #Lucy: literally get out of my face- #Eugene: yeah I like jazz! #Lucy: gEnE

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Never Be Sorry, Not For This

It was just supposed to be two friends dancing. You should’ve known better: Eugene Roe + Dirty Jazz in a dark club on a hot Georgia night would be the death of you.

(i listened to Death Letter by Cassandra Wilson while writing this, in case you wanna feel the spice)

You giggle slightly when Gene’s hand presses hot on the middle of your back, the giggle graduating to an apologetic snicker when he shot you an impatient look.

“Really? Are you twelve?” Roe grumbles, holding your right hand up gently and keeping it close to their sides.

“And a half.” You wink, smirking as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you.

He looked stupidly handsome in the low light of the club, a light sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light and making him shine like some sort of angel.

Careful, a voice in your head whispers. Don’t read more into this than there is.

He had only brought you here because Bill fucking Guarnere was incapable on minding his own business and keeping his goddamn mouth shut for longer than two minutes and practically strong-armed Gene into inviting you. 

During a night of Sobel-assigned kitchens inventory with Gene and Guarnere, Bill had asked you about your recent birthday- what you’d done, who you’d heard from, if you’d gotten anything. 

“Paperwork, my dad and my sister and her family, and Sobel gave me an earful about controlling my facial expressions when he’s trying to establish his authority- Thanks for asking.”

Your answer was apparently incorrect, and Guarnere had turned to Gene and pointed at you with his thumb conspiratorial.

“That’s gotta be the saddest shit I’ve ever heard, eh Doc? Can’t let such an important day go to waste like that, can we, pal?”

Guarnere proceeded to bully Gene into inviting you to the jazz club the medic always flocked to on his weekend passes, the place he chose to escape to  in lieu of the bar favored by most residents of Toccoa. 

But before you’d had a chance to tell Bill to shut up and stop being weird, Gene had nodded and looked down at the inventory sheet in his hand.

“I mean, we could if you wanted to.”

You had a feeling that he was regretting extending the invitation now. 

When the two of you had entered the club you’d suddenly realized that this wasn’t the traditional, big band jazz you’d been expecting.

Oh no, you were pretty sure Gene had accidentally taken you to a sex club of some kind- and you became even more sure the moment your eyes had adjusted to the darkness and you’d been able to make out your surroundings.

The singer on the stage was lit with a red light, voice smokey and seductive as she crooned a slow melody, eyes hazy as her hands trailed up and down the microphone’s stand in a clearly suggestive manner. There were two men with instruments behind her, the one with the drum looking at her silk-clad body like he meant to ravage it.

Maybe jazz means something different in the south?

Couples were writhing to the drums rhythm, bodies draped over each other like some kind of Rodinian menagerie. 

Now, you were pretty confident in your capabilities as both a soldier and a human woman- you wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t been able to trust yourself and what you could handle.

And you knew for a fact that you were incapable of pulling this off.

Now, Gene was a patient man, but you could see in the set of his jaw he was starting to get frustrated.

 I don’t blame him, I’m acting like I’ve never been alone with a boy before. 

Clearing your throat, you bite the inside of your cheek to try and get your shit together.

He’s trying to do something nice for you and you’re ruining it….

”I’ll stop, I promise.” you plead, ducking your head to try and catch his gaze. “I’m just nervous, give me a break…”

“You’ve literally run out in front of a moving plane to get a piece of debris off a runway ” he interrupts you like you hadn’t been talking. “You stole Sobel’s car—”

“At least if those things went wrong I would’ve just been killed.”

Eugene snorts at that, and you hear him mutter something to himself in French.

“And now?” He asks, tilting his head towards the band on the stage and the other dancers around you . “You think this is worse?”

You fix him with a look of shock that you know will make him laugh again. “Death over humiliation, every time! Obviously. What sort of question is that? C’mon Genie—”

“I know you know how to dance. I’ve seen you and Nixon dance at Malarkey’s birthday dinner in last July—”

You cringed internally. You’d forgotten there had been witnesses to that.

“Ok, first off,” you tap one of your fingers against his shoulder for emphasis. “that only happened because I lost  a bet with Lewis. And to be clear-I know how to ballroom dance, and that’s different because the whole point is to be rigid and straight and precise. This is….proving to be a challenge.”

You’d always been good at those sorts of things- order and rigidity and accuracy. You were used to knowing what was expected of you and how you measured up to those expectations. But you were going into this completely unprepared. You hated it.

“Just think of this as a basic waltz step, just slower.” Gene supplied, and when you started to fall into the familiar step he immediately made it clear that he was going to be dictating the pace, meeting your quirked brow with one of his own.

“Much slower. Glacial. Frozen molasses sliding down a flat hill—” You chide lightly, trying to disguise the waiver of apprehension in your voice.

“I don’t think that’s a phrase. But yes- that slow.”

You sigh, letting him lead you in an almost unbearably slow box step, letting him take you through five box-steps before huffing and hooking your chin over his shoulder and rest your head there, groaning melodramatically like you were in pain.

“This is impractically slow.” you lament. “It doesn’t look or feel right—”

With a quick move of his arm he presses you closer into his chest, knocking you slightly off balance before moving you so his thigh is wedged between your legs. 

You flush at what you assumed was a mistake on his part, and when you go to step back down from his thigh he moves with you and holds you in place.

Eugene Roe, you saucy boy.

“Gotta let me have some of your weight. That’s why it feels like you’re doing it wrong….” 

His voice is soft as stone, and you know he can feel your breath catch in your throat. “C’mon, mon cher- I got you.”

You’re suddenly very glad that he's pulled you so close because you don’t have to hide the scarlet blush on your cheeks at the imploring tone in his voice.

It made you want to trust him. It made you want him, period. 

Full stop.

It’s dancing. People dance. Friends dance, it doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to.

Unless you let it.

You take a deep breath and let your knees bend slightly, allowing your hips to slot together and your heart thud against his. 

Just as he promised, he keeps a hold on you, the arm around your waist like a belt holding the two of you together, and your ribs jump in a quick inhale as his fingers curl around your waist.

If he notices your reaction, he’s kind enough not to mention it.

“Good,” he says under his breath, and you feel him nodding against your hair. “That’s good.”

Good God, had his voice always been so low?  Fuck he was good at this….

You hmm in reply, your self-consciousness put on the back burner in order to cope with the absolute burning electric currents seeming to run through your body, just beneath your skin. 

You’ve never been so overwhelmed by another person, let alone some boy as you felt at this moment in Eugene Roe’s arms- you couldn’t so much as breathe without him knowing, each inhale bringing with it the sweet, clean smell of the aftershave you couldn’t quite identify and the salt of his skin.

The steps of the waltz have melted into a rhythmic sway of your bodies, shifting weight from the ball of one foot to the other in time with Gene’s lead.

It’s everything you can do not to shake as his thigh flexes between your legs, your sex rubbing agianst it deliciously every so often and making you feel stupid with longing.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, and you realize that you’ve been holding your breath the whole time, a distracted chuckle escaping your lips before your nod softly.

“Yeah, course.” You wrap an arm around his shoulder and sway with him, giving the hand holding yours a quick squeeze of reassurance. “You?”

You feel him nod. “Yeah, me too.”

You hum, letting your eyes drift closed as you try to think about keeping your breathing even and touch light.

Which was proving harder than you’d anticipated— the slow curling beat of the new song beginning and it’s rumbling melody settling over your heads like the foreboding clouds of a storm that neither of you seemed too interested in seeking shelter from.

This whole place could burn down and all I’d see is him

After a few more moments you feel the hand at your back begin to knead at the knots along your spine, strong fingers rolling like revered thunder against your tense muscles.

“Give me some more,” he quietly demands. “You need to lean on me more….you’re still too tense—” and you bend your knees a bit so you can feel the pressure of his thigh where you’re throbbing for him the most. 

“Shhhhhhiiiiiit…” he hisses quietly, almost to himself. 

“Eugene,” you breathe before you can stop yourself, titling your head so your temples press together. “ We, uh…..We said we wanted to go by eleven...”

Your reminder is purely for show, arousal hot in your chest and stomach. 

When he hums in acknowledgement, you can hear the lack of intention behind it. The idea of separating from this man made you feel cold—a prospect you found unbearable despite the heat making your hair stick to the back of your neck.

Staying, we’re going to stay.

Part of this feels inevitable, like the two of you had always been destined to end in this sinfully filthy embrace with nearly every single part of your bodies touching, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to curse the humidity you so loathed.

A whimper escapes your throat when you catch your clothed clit on some bunched fabric from the leg of his pants, and his arms abandon their dancing position to wrap around your torso and smooth his hands up and down your back

“Like this, Doc?” you can’t help but whisper, sighing prettily when his grip digs into the meat of your shoulder blades. 

You know you aren’t dancing anymore, haven’t been dancing for a while. You feel your hips jump against his, a low groan rumbling in his chest as one of his hands flashes down to squeeze at your ass.

“Fuck darlin’....” 

You turn your head so your lips are at his ear, eyes nearly rolling back in your head at the sinful roll of his hips as he drops a bit lower, a growl in his chest at the breathy way you gasp his name.

“I’m sorry” he’s whispering. “I’m sorry—”

You know what he’s apologizing for.

He thinks he’s confirming Sobel’s horrible accusations— that you’re nothing more than a warm body in the eyes of the men of Easy Company.

Their CO had a special place in his heart for taking the time to remind you that you were a woman and insinuate that you were nothing more than a barrack whore who was a pretty good shot on a rifle. 

“Even pious Winters seems to find you distracting, Miss Y/N. Maybe we should send you ahead of the pack to give the Krauts something to enjoy before we show up.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head and bring one hand up to lightly touch his cheek, voice thick in your throat. “Never be sorry. Not for this— Shit, Gene....”

One of Gene’s hands slid up your neck and into your hair, holding your head as he turned to look at you, pupils blown wide beneath heavily lidded eyes.

You look at his lips, bringing your thumb over to smooth the furrow in his brow.

“Never?” he asks, and with one final look into his eyes you shake your head.

“Never.” you hear yourself say, 

You kiss the corner of his mouth first, not wanting to rush him, still worried that (somehow) you were misreading his intentions. 

As if he wasn't gyrating his hips with you in a way so dirty that you were surprised you hadn’t been asked to leave. As if you couldn’t feel the ghost of his hard cock against your hip….

Apparently Gene thought you were now the one moving too slowly, because he uses his hand in your hair to turn your mouth to his and kiss the breath from your lungs.

His lips taste like whiskey and a tiny bit like the candied pecans you’d brought him as a thank you for taking you out. 

You sighed against his mouth as you slid one of your hands down his chest, fisting his shirt as his tongue parts the seam of your lips and deepens the kiss.

“Embrasse-moi (kiss me),” he mumbles between the kisses he plucked from your lips. “Je pense toujours à toi, Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi….tu as besoin de savoir que (I always think about you, I can’t live without you. You need to know that.).”

You’re french is lackluster at best, but something in the way he’s saying the words that makes you feel as if he’s being unbearably sincere in whatever it is he’s telling you. 

“I dont…” you begin, but then something wicked and heavy settles in your lower belly that has you pulling back enough that you can look him in the eye.

HIs lips are pink and swollen, and you nearly forget what you wanted to tell him.

Debauched, absolutely lewd and lustful.

Your hands find his and with a reassuring nodyou put his hands on your hip and thigh, another curse slipping past his lips as his fingers bunched the soft fabric of your skirt in his hands.

“Show me what you said.” You know you’ve said it like a command but you’ve never felt more less in control in your entire life. “Please, Eugene—”

He nods solemnly, and when he replies you get the feeling he’s making you a deeper promise than you are aware of.

“I will. I promise.”

and he does.

(*throws fic at you and runs away* than you for reading bYE (p2?))

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #eugene roe x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography #idk if anyone wants to be tagged but if you so for some reason let a sister know

[bestworstcase]

Hi, I really love your thoughts and analysis on tts so I wanted to ask if you have read The Vanishing Village Book? It made me really think about Eugene's character. I sorta disliked him in the book and felt his relationship with Rapunzel was different and strained. I guess my question is if you think Eugene is a good character? I feel that I am biased for liking the story and relationship between Cassandra and Rapunzel so perhaps I am not seeing him in a fair light but there's just factors that make me feel he might not be the best for Rapunzel. I love their relationship and value & dedication towards each other but their relationship can feel a bit stale sometimes and Eugene can come off as not understanding and dismissive towards Rapunzel sometimes so ig I'd like to be proven wrong and be reminded that Eugene is good for Rapunzel

i have read vanishing village (and i remember liking it better than lost lagoon) but i have to admit i don’t remember anything but the very broad strokes of the plot, so i don’t feel equipped to do any analysis of eugene based on it; that being said -

i do really like eugene as a character in the sense that he is. interesting / engaging / compelling, which yeah to my mind that’s what makes a “good character” but also has nothing to do with the, kind of, moral or personal question of but is he a good guy or is he likable or sympathetic or that kind of thing. and on that my feelings are more ambivalent kfjfjdhs

on the one hand i do find his relationship with rapunzel in tts to be fairly refreshing. it’s nice to see a fictional m/f couple that is just… comfortable with each other, friends with each other, able to talk about their problems collaboratively with each other. that is so rare in fiction, where the tendency is so often to rely on miscommunication to manufacture relationship drama or do the will they won’t they, on again off again nonsense which is just so tiresome - and it feels good to have a m/f couple that eschews that altogether. and it’s also imo really nice that the m/f relationship fades so much into the background vis a vis the wider plot, which i know is not necessarily a popular opinion [vague gestures at all the ‘eugene was sidelined’ discourse] but, like, i feel like i can count on one hand the number of stories i know where the female protagonist *has a male love interest* without the story being ABOUT him, and with the male love interest filling this supportive narrative role while quietly and subtly dealing with his own problems on the side? it’s so difficult to find stories where men aren’t centered and so i appreciate eugene and new dream a lot for that reason too.

but at the same time like - eugene def falls victim to the plot-driven writing just like every other character does and that frustrates me because i think ultimately having all these loose threads hanging with him means his character feels a bit stagnant, and that in turn makes his flaws more glaring because they’re never… worked on or addressed, they just sort of persist or silently fade away for the most part. (which again, is true of literally every character because the storytelling of tts is highly plot driven and episodic)

& that phenomenon can make character interpretation a little convoluted, because… well the intentions of the narrative are signaled pretty baldly (eugene grows out of his selfishness and becomes a compassionate hard working leader for corona, which he has embraced as his home) without having much if any on-screen development to back it up (indeed the premise of flynnposter involves eugene shirking his new responsibilities, and then it concludes with a commitment from him to take the captain gig seriously - but thereafter the only time we get to see this demonstrated through him encouraging project obsidian [which makes him look the opposite of compassionate or responsible given he is excitedly planning to extrajudicially murder cassandra] and then joining the fight against zhan tiri [which literally everyone in corona does]). so do we take what the textual development shows us and conclude that eugene is, at the end of the day, just another cop, or do we take the narrative signaling as a given and fill in the textual gaps with our own imaginations? i tend to fall heavier on the textual side but i do try to take intentions into consideration when they are signaled so clearly, because i understand the structural and corporate limitations on what the tts team were able to do with the story.

anyways - i also have some fraught feelings about new dream because, in the film, it’s not a relationship that i can buy into at all. rapunzel is 17, a few days shy of 18, when an adult man in his mid-twenties tumbles into her bedroom, hits on her, tries to take advantage of her naïveté so he can recover his stolen goods and screw her over because he’s spent his life cultivating an attitude of selfish disregard for anyone but himself, but she’s so sweet he decides to give emotional vulnerability a try and within three days they’re in love and then they get MARRIED?? and he’s literally the first person rapunzel has ever met who wasn’t her “mother”? excuse me???

and i get the impression the tts team was fully cognizant of that problem and made a real effort to address it, as much as they could within the context of the designated disney princess couple - that’s how we get things like the BEA proposal and rapunzel and eugene talking their feelings out afterwards and agreeing to take things slower, and that’s how we get things like rapunzel having cass and eugene having lance so they have lives and identities and relationships outside of each other, and it’s why eugene has a little arc of becoming less self-absorbed in the front half of s1 and why cassandra overtly criticizes his treatment of rapunzel in BEA and so on and so forth. like no one says it OUT LOUD in the series but rapunzel’s and eugene’s relationship is fraught with peril because of the way they met and came together, and it takes significant emotional work from both of them to navigate that to arrive at a healthy place, and i enjoy watching that play out.

so yeah eugene is sometimes too in his own head to notice when something is wrong with rapunzel, like how he misses how unhappy she is in BEA because *he’s* so jazzed about palace living, and sometimes they struggle to get on the same page with each other in general; but that’s just, kind of the gig where relationships are concerned. what matters to me is that whenever these hiccups happen we see, typically some confusion or distress from him or rapunzel or both, and then they reach out for each other and talk about it until they reach an understanding, which is the correct healthy way to manage this sort of conflict in a relationship. and of course through it all eugene is pretty unflagging in his absolute support of rapunzel - even if he doesn’t always *express it* in a good way, he is always very invested in rapunzel’s happiness and well-being. like even the BEA proposal, eugene’s fuck up lies in assuming that rapunzel felt the same way he did about everything and that proposing now would make her happy - there’s self-absorption there but not to the point where he isn’t concerned about her feelings, so when he upsets her he immediately realizes that he screwed up and shelves his own feelings to focus on hers, which is very Good Partner of him.

and then again on a metatextual level i do kind of hate that rapunzel’s arc is essentially, trapped in corona -> adventure! -> adventure is traumatic time to go home -> exact same circumstances she started in but she’s happy about it now. not to say i object to rapunzel embracing her role as a princess/queen per se, but in an ideal world i would like that to come from a place of rapunzel remaking her role to suit herself rather than just kind of… this ‘well got the wanderlust out of my system forever!’ vibe i get from plus est. this isn’t directly related to eugene at all but i think it does splash over onto him on account of him being so closely intertwined with her life in corona. if rapunzel were given an arc about tearing down institutions that stifled her in s1 and really rebuilding corona to be better (something that is lightly implied in canon but never quite makes its way to outright text) then of course eugene would have been her number one supporter - but she doesn’t get that arc and so eugene ends up just kind of being there while rapunzel settles into the role laid out for her. (the destiny narrative being played painfully straight in this regard doesn’t help either.)

this is all a bit of a ramble but i guess what i’m getting at is i think at the end of the day the thing that makes new dream feel a bit stale or stagnant is the series sticking to this aggressively pro-monarchy, status quo is good, mass market appeal narrative enforced by the reality of Disney Princess Show, and that’s not eugene’s fault or any character’s fault, it’s a corporate issue and writing issue.

oh and also personally i think eugene’s biggest flaw in the new dream relationship is he has a tendency to enable rapunzel’s worst impulses via unquestioning support - a little healthy skepticism can be very good for a relationship vs just being your partner’s yes man. so when i imagine a character trajectory for him post-series it involves eugene getting more comfortable pushing back when rapunzel is pursuing ideas that are bad in some way.

#rta #new dream #tldr complicated feelings but ultimately i do like him for rapunzel #and just wish the narrative hadn’t been SO disney princess show but it is what it is yknow?

[lana-llama-in-pajamas]

I posted 18 times in 2021

12 posts created (67%)

6 posts reblogged (33%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.5 posts.

I added 55 tags in 2021

#creepypasta - 8 posts

#ticcitoby - 7 posts

#masky - 7 posts

#hoodie - 6 posts

#creepypasta headcanon - 6 posts

#ticci toby - 5 posts

#fnaf security breach - 4 posts

#slenderman - 4 posts

#proxies - 4 posts

#creepypasta slenderman - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 47 characters

#not to be a robot furry dilf fucker on main but

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

proxy drabble pt.3

brian thomas/hoodie

I don't care how cannon it is hoodie is gonna be the level headed one

Tallest too

Slender says timothy/masky is the leader but they all know Brian/hoodie is 

Loves the resident evil games 

Carries around a cop gun everywhere away from the manor

Admits to having matching timberlands with Tim

Probably listens to the studio killers and old big jazz

Quiet in either persona 

If he was a animal he would be a capybara, gets along with almost everyone else

Oddly enough the one person that he hangs with the most outside of the proxies is Eyeless Jack. Both are quiet and reserved and tall. 

The few things he is conscious about is his height and his ability to be level

Is the designated driver of the “proxy-mobile” Toby and Jeff call it 

he doesn't pay too much attention to slender, only when he needs too 

There's not much about him, might keep updating this page though, keep in tune

13 notes • Posted 2021-12-13 06:14:23 GMT

#4

EYELESS JACK DRABBLES

Ok so hear me out I had a fever dream like that jacks full name was Eugene Owusu (like genesis Owusu) and he went to a medical school near where toby lives but he was like 24 when he was captured and sacrificed in the woods (like 2004)

Full name Eugene Owusu

Jamaican/American descent

Always wanted to be a doctor, now he's a personal one

Gets shit on by doctor smiley because he's technically a medical dropout

The most human about his feelings and needs

Was 6’2 now 6’6 which he thinks is funny

Has heats like a cat, will lock himself in his basement/living space/medical office for days and gorge himself to chill out and get too tired to be horny

Slender has tried to tell him that if he needed a partner for ‘relief’ he would get the proxies to find someone. Jack immediately will deflect and walk away in shame

Loves patching everyone up

Obviously this has caused opposite Florence nightingale syndrome a few times

He is very charming and kind

Proactively tries to not kill his victims

But has a few times begged the proxies to throw him down a dead body during his heats

Lets just say his fucked up demon mind saw it as a toy and food if you know what I mean

His favorite patients are the proxies and jane (their the calmest)

Uses Slenders blood as a healing substance

In his free time he likes to read physical books in the dusty library or clean it

Has a mini vengeance against Zalgo because he's sure he is the one he was sacrificed to

Close friends with Brian Liu and Jeff

17 notes • Posted 2021-12-19 07:49:50 GMT

#3

Creepypastas saying things I hear at work✨

Toby- y’know I never really knew why my name is what it is

Masky- what does it matter

Toby- who the fuck looked at me and said “yeah name that fucker Tobias Erin”

Slenderman reading- probably your bitch of a father

19 notes • Posted 2021-12-14 06:28:00 GMT

#2

steel wool why

why so

himbo and bimbo

25 notes • Posted 2021-12-22 06:48:36 GMT

#1

proxy drabble pt.1

Let's start with the star child of the pasta mythos tobias eren rogers 

I feel like with age all of our perspectives on the pastas changed dramatically from Jeff being like Edward from twilight mixed with a rawr xd vibe to now kinda being the joker on downer pills to me,crazy sure but more chill now that time has passed 

But this is about tobes

I feel like he still has the physical appearance and slight mental capacity to a 17 year old boy but knows he's older in years of existence, I'll explain more in head cannons for the “magic” at work i guess 

Cheerful ass 

Is kind of like that guy at your workplace/school/college that looks dark and mysterious but then you hear him talk and you can already see him watching really loud jacksepticeye videos on full blast 

For his cannon voice honestly i think david near my savior is spot on 

The fluffy hair is from the fact the poor man can't groom himsellf super well 

Lean body strength? Like he's always been skinny but now he has muscle on top

I dont think he likes anyone very much 

Went out with clockwork but because she's very brash and prone to jeff like tantrums they broke up to save them both from a different type of insanity 

Likes to be outside more than in on clear nights 

Slender has to scold him though “I own a perfectly good house and you decide to sleep in a goddam tree like you're a raccoon! young man if you don't get in this manor right now and blah blah…blahh

I wanted to keep his mom alive to fill his story with more spice 

Can speak phrases in german? Not well and can't remember what most mean 

Bet you forgot this boy's 2nd gen german huh? Yeah one of the few things that stuck with me plus i love fanfics that divulge in it more so here 

Loves those overly specific playlists on youtube now

Everyone makes this man handsome sooooo

Handsome and knows it. Will get with someone random just to prove it to the others

Bisexual? Just very straight vibes 

Likes cats and raccoons

Waffles are just a comfort food, and like eggo waffles and dollar store frozen ones 

40 notes • Posted 2021-12-09 08:55:57 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[freebooter4ever]

Hello I just finished the Pacific and I'm dying. So it's time for me to delve into the fandom and try and fulfil my poor sledgefu heart. Have any recommendations on who's blog to look at or tags? Other than yourself because I most certainly will spend a solid 5 hours going through your tags. I've already seen a lot of your art and I think it's beautiful, just an FYI.

Oh boy do I ever have recs! It was only about a year ago that I was new to the fandom myself and slowly going through @aboutthatmelancholystorm and @persipneiwrites tumblr sledgefu tags every night, reading all of it, and being totally sucked in! ^_^ (I especially suggest Persipnei’s 3:16 AU where Sledge and Snafu are rock stars!) As for art, I think the biggest collection I know of is the blog @marines-r-gay. Some of my favorite sledgefu artist blogs include @skelesocks (Ace Eugene will hold a special place in my heart forever!) @badgerms and my old favorite the-heebiejeebies who sadly disappeared and deleted their blog :( but you can still find their old art in my ‘sledgefu’ tag on my blog like here. There’s no really ‘exculsively’ sledgefu artists out there right now, but there is a LOT of amazing older stuff to be found mixed into people’s blogs! My own art/writing sledgefu masterlist can be found here.

More specific fanfic recs under the cut! I’m focusing on oldies, because I think it’s fairly easy to find the newer ones on AO3 that are still being updated ^_^

Not Quite Home by Seabright - A fix it fic that really fixes things. Post war set in New Orleans with Eugene showing up on Snafu’s doorstep. Snafu is cantankerous and very in character and he /claims/ he can’t ‘fix’ Sledge, but let’s face it that’s why they need to fix each other. Snafu has a lot of walls up and Eugene breaks all of them down in his steadfast way. This fic captures Snafu perfectly - even in little things like in the way he fidgets and moves. Also the last kiss is just...SO good.

Canon Compliant

Roadverse by Seabright - There are a few authors exclusively on AO3 that like...if you haven’t read their entire sledgefu collection yet, you gotta! Seabright is one of them. Roadverse is set after the war and Snafu takes Eugene on a roadtrip to Florida, there’s a lot of introspection, they fall in love, definitely a happy ending! The writing here is what really shines.

After The Happy Ending by Handdaddyhoosier - Another author it’s worth reading their entire sledgefu collection. This one is also set after the war and is more domestic. A lot of fluff, a lot of slice of life, a lot of Sledge and Snafu dealing with homophobia and overcoming it (!!). Through it all Snafu and Eugene remain sooooo much in love that they’re stronger together and...yeah...it’s good. 

Christmas Even Will Find Me by SOMETHINREAL - My favorite canon compliant Sledgefu Christmas fic! It’s just perfect! Everybody is all together again after the war for Christmas and Eugene and Snafu are playing their own little dance between each other in the corner...they’re adorable. Plus there’s a happy ending!

Maybe You’ll Think Of Me When You’re All Alone by SOMETHINREAL - A very very good fix it fic for after the war. They’re both broken but they’re together and falling in love all over again, yay! I live for first pining and emotional kiss scenes and this is one of the best!

These Foolish Things Remind Me of You by Spoondragon - Merriell is quirky and weird and collects things and his last line in the fic is gOLD. Basically them being cute, with a first kiss. I highly rec ALL of spoondragon’s sledgefu fics!

To Make Much of Time by Hueligan - FIX THE TRAIN SCENE. I will read almost any variation of that train scene where Snafu makes it right, and this one does! AND THEN RUINS IT. So fair warning, you will fall in love with this fic but then it will break your heart. Kinda like Snafu. But it’s ok cause then you can go read one of the OTHER many fix it fics and mend it again.

Tilled Earth by Killerqueenie - Okay, this is one of my absolute FAVORITES. Snafu finds Eugene playing farmer boy in a small town outside of Mobile ten years after the war and Snafu signs himself on as a ranch hand. This one ACTUALLY fixes the train scene. Eugene is prickly and untrusting and Snafu has to earn his right to waltz back into his life. And oh gosh the love each other so so much!

The Magic Helmet by jspringsteen - Cute adorable and totally in character, canon compliant and not actually sledgefu except for some delightful hints that they are into each other more than they let on. It’s just such a great moment for Snafu’s character that I’ve reread this on multiple occasions.

All You Got by ssstrychnine - Another fix it fic (I know, I love these). This follows canon so well it’s seamless and only adds subtle touches of love between Gene and Snafu - so very believable as a part of the actual show. This author has four fics on AO3 for sledgefu and I suggest reading them all!

The Jazz Lights of New Orleans by Gracefully - Yet ANOTHER fix it fic! Give me them all!!! 

AU

Like It’s Only You And Me by SJTrinity - Snafu is an artist in this so of course I’m going to biased, but this is one of my absolute favorite college AU’s. All our favorite characters are there, including Bill, Burgie, Andy, and Eddie (and even Pops! as a fatherly figure to Snafu though he’s only referenced). Snafu is as chaotic as ever. The romance is hot! There are parts where I almost bust a gut laughing. Also anytime Eugene gets all haughty and bossy with his little furrowed brow over Snafu that’s like A+ for me.

Learning Curve by Seabright - ok THIS fic defines ultimate pining over Gene for me. I have never related to Snafu more. There’s a description of Eugene swimming in a pool that just..yeah...I have feelings. Anyway, it’s a college AU that is tragically UNFINISHED and will rip your heart out, BUT the same author also has a whole bunch of more canon related fic where the two of them do get together, so that eases the sting a little. 

F.M.L by @badgerms - I maybe have a thing for swimmers, but I love this swimming college AU especially because it’s in Gene’s POV but done so well that it feels real. This fic also delves into mental illness and mental self flagellation (there are some moments that hit REAL hard if you’ve ever had eating disorders). But on top of all that, I feel like lollki really captured what is so magnetic about Snafu, and by having Gene put him on this impossible pedestal it kinda reflects what a lot of us in the fandom do with his character. Snafu makes his existence look effortless and thoughtless, Gene is incredibly jealous of how Snafu just lives, their competition is ENTHRALLING.

The Kind Of Stuff That Only Prince Would Sing About  by @stolperzunge A coffee shop AU that has Sledge and Snafu just slowly and sweetly falling in love. This one is from Snaf’s pov and since I identify with him more you know I’m gonna love it lol! There are some GREAT funny lines, Snafu has personality in spades. Eugene is a grandad hipster type who also writes erotica....I dunno it’s all amazing go read it.

There Will Be Better Days by SydneyCarton - High school AU. As someone who had a fairly shitty high school experience and many bad holidays, this is...cathartic. Gene is definitely more the caretaker here, he saves Snafu in a way that’s just as strong as when he picked him up on the battlefield. But it’s all emotional, and Snafu is this scared prickly kid. And Gene is the honor roll kid who has to play the role of best friend secretly in love with the one person who matters most to them. This author never wrote anything else for Sledgefu and I wish they had!

Okay, that’s a whole bunch! There’s even more in my aO3 bookmarks! This list is just me going through my bookmarks and selecting the ones that I especially remembered and is by no means exhaustive of all my favorites in this fandom. Joining the Pacific train late means there’s a whole lot to choose from and explore...but it also means the list of active blogs is short and not a lot of new content gets posted every day :( I think the Sledgefu community is still going pretty strong, though! Welcome!

#sledgefu #Anonymous

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Wes Buckley

Wes Buckley is a cosmic folk songwriter from Western Massachusetts, whose homespun, all-natural music spins off into unexpected revelations, epiphanies and absurdities. He recorded a split with Michael Hurley in 2014 and has released some home-made CDs, but The Towering Ground on Belltower Records is his first official full-length. Jennifer Kelly reviewed it for Dusted last month, observing that “The mystic and the mundane jostle elbows, line to line, verse to verse.” Here he lists some of his favorite drumless music.

If they ever outlaw drums — revolt! But while you’re getting organized you could still listen to most of these…

Mike Cooper — “Knew Strings”

This tune and record continue my endless quest to hear something I can’t quite put my finger on. It started I think with this deliberate exploration of drumless jazz trios while I was painting an entire inn. Led me to ’80s Chet Baker with Phillip Catherine and Jean-Louise Rassinfosse. This sorta led to drumless duos which I will get into more of, both drumless duos, trios, and then solo artists. I like drums but I was questing.

Jimmy Giuffre, Paul Bley, Steve Swallow — “Sensing”

I don’t think I should go much further into the drumless schtick without mentioning Jimmy Giuffre. His Saturday and Sunday records with Steve Swallow and Paul Bley are magical. Yes, I love Free Fall. But another endless quest is the music of older people. Not necessarily ones that came back and reformed the band but ones that have been polishing the glass for many decades without a care in the world as to who is paying attention. Single minded types. There’s real magic in those records. This is some late era JG. So, Jimmy was part of the Music Inn lore here in the Berkshires in the ’60s. All the legends came up from New York and played but Jimmy went a step further and moved here. Passed away right here in Pittsfield and that’s why I have it mind to bring more light to his work locally. We need a Jimmy Giuffre Day and music festival at least. Disgraceful it doesn’t yet exist if you ask me.

Cecil Taylor — “Indent: First Layer”

Indent by Cecil Taylor. I keep returning to this record with big headphones lying in bed going places. It feels so important to me but I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it to anyone before.

Bill Orcutt — “Odds Against Tomorrow”

Someone else who I would imagine feels the same… Bill’s latest is gorgeous. Bought it in LP form at my local shop so it’s a part of my LP listening which is sort of a different station in the house. Right in the dining/living room zone which usually means being aware of other people when I put on music and I’ve noticed this is a Sunday record. This falls under the list of drumless solo recordings.

Anthony Braxton and Eugene Chadbourne — Duo (Improv) 2017

Duo (Improv) 2017 by Anthony Braxton Eugene Chadbourne

I must say the pinnacle of the drumless duos so far on my path is the 8 hour box from 2017 by Anthony Braxton and Eugene Chadbourne. In the booklet there is an hourglass between them in the studio. Consequently, I noticed that each piece (8 of ’em) are an hour long. I don’t know. Something about that seems so intense to me. We’re going to improvise together for eight hours using an hourglass to guide the pieces and when the last grain falls…

Okkyung Lee — “The Crow Flew After Yi Sang”

I make some of my own instruments with piezo pickups I’ve soldered and they are, barring the cigar box guitars, basically electric percussion sculptures. The series started with circular wooden platters and the first one was called The Pizza. The second one was all painted red and called The Borscht. I use lots of pedals and compose with them via cut up. I could imagine a Okkyung Lee collab with that stuff going pretty well. This cello sounds like someone sawing their own throat with a piano string, it’s truly gorgeous.

Doc and Merle Watson — “Summertime”

Yeah, I listen to music with vocals too. Here’s one of my old fav’s. I recall learning all of the songs on Elementary (poorly) through the years and am still looking for my partner in crime to start a duo that does this kind of stuff at apple picking days at the orchard and such.

Mississippi Fred McDowell — “Jesus Is On The Mainline”

This is a whole live record of Fred on electric guitar with bass and it’s a source of great power in my opinion. It journeys without fear, is fully aware of itself, and as a recording captures the exacting and indivisible nature of earth and wind. And technically speaking, if you're like me and need a slide guru look no further.

Jonathan Richman — “Wait! Wait!”

I wouldn’t want to finish the list without breaking the rule a couple times! One of my favorite duos — Tommy and Jonathan! Ishkode Ishkode and Jonathan’s other latest records on Blue Arrow is a joyful place that I return to without fail. His new one, SA, we have at the vinyl station too though it’s more a making dinner and singing along record. Two things I must do daily.

Billie Holiday — “The Same Old Story (Take 1)”

You might have heard of Billie Holiday. She shouldn’t be left out of any list. This is the one for me. The band, the intro, the piano solo, the swing, the session, the lyric, the delivery. I listen to this over and over and over. When the horns come back in on story and the whole groove locks in I’m in ecstasy, but it’s new to me.

#dusted magazine #listed #wes buckley #mike cooper #jimmy giuffre #paul bley #steve swallow #cecil taylor #bill orcutt #anthony braxton #eugene chadbourne #okkyung lee #doc and merle watson #mississippi fred mcdowell #jonathan richman #billie holiday

[badlydrawntangled]

It’s not what he did to me...

...it’s what he did to Eugene! ok so we’re gonna get into my BEEF with King Edmund. THIS MOTHERFUCKER has a kingdom, right, and the entire kingdom is built around his ancestors protection of this crazy magical artifact that has kind of a One Ring effect to it. Somehow the rock kills his wife and he’s like OKAY EVERYBODY OUT and displaces ALL of his people. Ok, ok, so you say: “he did it for their protection! The Moonstone is dangerous! And it’s not like he killed anyone, he just sent them away.” True! This alone is not what makes Edmund a shitty person! But he also sends HIS SON away. Still, “for his protection!” you shout. Yes! Okay. So he sends baby Eugene off to an orphanage to be adopted. Good, a reasonable and noble course of action for a single father finding himself unable to take care of his infant child. But, he doesn’t just send him away- he also uses his ravens to keep tabs on him! That’s kinda sweet, isn’t it? He still cares about his boy and wants to see what he’s up to from afar.

But then, Eugene is suffering in poverty. He turns to a life of crime to make ends meet. He grows up a thief, a rapscallion, making friends in all the wrong places and getting into all sorts of trouble. He becomes known far and wide, his wanted posters are everywhere. He’s been at this since he was a kid! The earliest Flynn Rider wanted posters we see have him CLEARLY a child. How old was he? 8? 10? Putting his life on the line to steal because it’s better than starving to death on the streets?

And Edmund KNOWS about this! He collects his wanted posters! He watches his child son struggling and scraping to get by without ever ONCE being like “oh I’m a king I should send him some money/food/HELP OF ANY KIND WHATSOEVER.” he is content just to sit back and watch Eugene suffer!! What the fuck man?! That’s your son!!

THEN at some point he loses track of him and doesn’t know about his redemption story and his love affair with the Coronian princess and all that jazz, and at the end of S2 the gang shows up on Edmund’s doorstep and he almost kills them all. The ONLY reason he doesn’t slice Eugene’s throat is because he sees those eyes and is like “oh its the fruit of my loins I feel no remorse about abandoning!” How many people did Edmund kill for trying to get into the castle before our heroes showed up?

THEN. HE HAS THE AUDACITY. To act all lah-dee-dah and lackadaisical towards Eugene, EXPECTING him to accept him with open arms! And we’re supposed to be amused by this silly thinks-out-loud character? Hell man he refuses to refer to Eugene by his chosen name for a REALLY long time, too. He sent away a baby prince, watched him grow into a criminal from afar, and then expected his perfect baby prince to come back and love him? No! And Eugene, thankfully, isn’t just like “omg dad yay!” No he’s fucking pissed that he’s been lied to his whole damn life and his dad KNEW his struggles and did NOTHING to help while still expecting affection from him once they finally reunited!

to be completely honest I had really hoped that the show was going to take this in a “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb” route and have Eugene be like you may have sired me but you’re not my dad and tell kids that like “hey it’s ok if your biological parents didn’t parent you and you don’t want to be forced to love them.” Tbh the show puts way too much emphasis on the bonds between biological parents and kids, even if said parents were awful. I mean Cass got redeemed in the end and kind of halfway went there? But her entire villain arc was based on the idea that she cared more about Gothel’s love than the man who raised her. Which I mean yeah that’s definitely something that Is important and they definitely did some things very well there, but...it could have been so much better than it was. Anyway yeah I was kind of disappointed with the whole Eugene eventually loving Edmund thing.

Also Edmund just annoys me to hell and back. They try so hard to make him likable and every single attempt at it just falls flat to me. He’s really dumb sometimes and even though they tried to build him up as this powerful like ace-in-the-hole he literally just sat back and ate cake while Cass flaunted THE MOONSTONE (as in The Very Thing he devoted his life to and destroyed his own kingdom for) around. Almost every line out of his mouth had me rolling me eyes. Like. hnng. Do better, man.

#mod post #anonymous #noitsbecky127 #anyway sorry for the long rant guys #and sorry to all those king Edmund fans out there reading this and potentially getting upset that I dissed their fave #i mean you’re allowed to like him I just. Don’t. #to each his own #yknow

[erazonpo3]

I am on my knees BEGGING for more information on that lovely au where Cass and Lio are famous musicians that just happen to be related,,, plEASE

Of course! The AU itself isn’t exclusive, it’s largely just drawing on a Modern AU parallel of the events of TTS. In terms of a modern take I think the drama and escalation of S3 is reflected well in the metaphor of substance abuse and the volatile environment that is The Industry and naturally the story is less about “Cass has to go to jail because she’s been doing bad things” it’s “Holy shit somebody get this woman to rehab”. 

I’ll go into the details but cw warning for drugs and substance abuse and the everything that is a rockstar meltdown (also this got really long because I’ve been jamming on this AU with a friend so there is a lot of detail)

The quick rundown of the timeline basically has the gang starting off as a group act, with Rapunzel on lead vocals, Eugene on electric guitar, Cass on electric bass and probably Lance on drums (and all the others on backup vocals). Rapunzel and Eugene get most of the spotlight for being ‘the couple’ and Lance is able to wrangle a lot of attention because of his natural charisma so Cass tends to settle in the back with her niche fanbase that is lesbians and that’s fine! She’s not in it for the fame, but it maybe irks her a little that she’s been writing a fair few of their songs and gets little credit for it. 

The bitterness starts small and just kind of lingers in the background, because fundamentally Rapunzel and Cassandra’s artistic visions aren’t very compatible and Adira (who I picked for the group’s manager) probably just delegates Rapunzel as the group ‘leader’ most of the time. It all comes to a head when Cass has her freak accident that gives her some very fun burns on her playing arm, which is the result of a ‘Not Directly Rapunzel’s Fault But Wouldn’t Have Happened If We Listened To Cassandra’ thing, like in canon. oof. The situation  probably involves fancy new equipment that Cassandra didn’t want to use because she’s pedantic about safety but Rapunzel wanted it so she got outvoted. 

Cassandra probably gets her first round of skin grafting and physical therapy while she learns to play with her other hand but everyone just kind of skirts around the elephant in the room. Then skeevy manager Zhan Tiri finds Cass and slowly convinces her to break off from the group and break out as a solo act, and Cass probably goes with the decision after her first foray with drugs. And from there you get the idea- a whole lot of reckless behaviour, substance abuse, heckling on social media and irl and all that jazz. 

But she’s also doing really well as a solo act! She’s dropping hits left right and centre and the media can’t get enough of her antics. She’s gone from being the niche bass player to a star that’s had a really iconic musical impact on the scene, to the point where she’s able to coast along on her relevancy even once she starts loafing around and forgetting about the whole writing songs thing. 

Rapunzel is of course very concerned about her but Cass just reads it as condescension and the internet fan feuding is not helping at all. Everything is escalating and meanwhile Gothel is in the background, still alive and kicking and trying to cash in on her daughter’s fame and Cap isn’t talking to Cass because she’s lost his respect because of all the uh. drugs. The Cassandra’s Revenge equivalent is probably some really messy confrontation but things only come to a head when Cass has an overdose and she’s rushing her to hospital. 

From there it’s pretty clear that okay, Rapunzel does care about her and she needs to pull her shit together and cut off ZT and go to rehab. Get this girl into recovery babey! And she catches up on her physical therapy and gets some more skin grafts and things are looking up, but she still stays a solo act because aside from the shitty behaviour it was really working for her. Also she’s probably wrangled her legal team to get Gothel to stop leeching off her name for publicity, and Cap and her are making amends. 

It’s about this time when some fan stumbles upon the fact that superstar supermess Cassandra Chevalier is actually related to up-and-coming new star Ilione Aveline through their mothers, and it’s an interesting media distraction to say the least. Ilione would be very open about her family on social media because I see her being very transparent about the identity issues biracial artists often face, and of course Gothel is already in the media for being a general parasite, so it’s less stalker-ish for a fan to just recognise the two women in a yearbook, as sisters.  

It’s more than a little wild because it’s like if someone suddenly came out one day like “holy shit can you believe Zendaya and Lorde are cousins” and everyone’s like what, including them. And yeah! From there they connect up and get to know each other and give each other boosts on their new projects and it encourages Cass to actually get back to vibing with her music. Fun stuff!

#Anonymous #there's still more detail I could go into but this is the overall gist of it #Cass is an icon! A total wreck but #an icon #answered #tumblr fix your coding challenge

[angelsaxis]

anyways. i think it’s funny that whenever it comes to debate about “let people enjoy things” people essentially talk past each other because on one side, it’s people who enjoy shit like murder mysteries and thrillers or whatever, which aren’t even bad because in the pyramid of socially acceptable things where microaggressions and casual homophobia are at the bottom and serial killers are at the top, people know better than to point to the top and say “well watching a show about murder means you support that” cause that thing’s not baked into the murder mystery or the thriller or the sci fi show or whatever.

and then there’s other people that’ll watch a show where the premise is basically “eugenics is good” or “anyone who isn’t white isn’t worth it” or “imperialism/colonialism is good, actually” among other things. And all that stuff is at the bottom of the pyramid. “you are not immune to propaganda” and all that jazz. so like the people actually affected by that are like “hey yeah the murder show isn’t the problem. it’s the show where they say Black people are all bad or that disabled people don’t deserve to be happy or that hypersexualizes children specifically with adult entertainment in mind” (all things which strengthen the bottom of the pyramid and make it easier for the stuff at the top to thrive) or maybe even “it’s not the murder plot itself but the racism and pedophilia and/or homophobia, etc etc, that you’re choosing to ignore

and then yall fandom grownups are gonna be like “no actually, im gonna write fix it fics about this. if i au hard enough I can pretend the racism and pedophilia aren’t there contributing to racist pedophilic culture. or im just gonna write regular fics that fulfill whatever secret bias i have against a marginalized group of people and/or fetishizes the fuck out of them and if you take issue wth that it’s because you don’t know how consent works” as if you bitches even tag that shit properly. as if you don’t hop on irrelevant posts or constantly cry and weep over this Puritan Thought Dilemma that you insist is so pervasive in fandom circles. as if your right to be a racist/homophobe/pedophile can somehow exist in harmony with the people who suffer through that shit. as if you’ll somehow die, your very humanity under fire and threatened, because someone said you were fucked up for wanting to write and read some kinky pedophile shit or because you wanted your racial fetish sex slavery au fulfilled at 3am on AO3.

#angel posts #angels essays #this is messy but there's what something's ABOUT and what it actually supports #the people who add no asterisks think they're only talking and writing about the ABOUT #when really its the supports side #like....no number of chapters will fix the racism baked into the media or fic you're drooling over rn #and no amount of faulty misleading ''it's about consent uwu'' twitter threads is going to erase what it is exactly that yall are jacking off #to atm #cause like trust me take rape fics for example #sometimes they're done and they're done well and its written like a normal story would be #and other times it softporn. or hard pon. either way its written to be Hot and Sexy and if you like that you're fucked up luv! #and its almost always white women saying this!!!!!!!!!

[five-rivers]

Ancestral 9

“So.  Aconite?” asked Danny during a lull in the stream of treatments and tests.  “Isn’t that wolfsbane?”

"Yes," said the doctor, looking rather nervously at Matthew.  

At least, Danny thought she was looking at Matthew.  His vision was still kind of blurry, a reasonable side-effect of having poison splashed into them.  She could have been looking at the family in general, all of whom were squeezed into the room.  Apparently, as long as they stayed out of the way of the doctors, it was best for security purposes to have them all together.

“Both the tests on what was recovered from you and what was recovered from the cup indicate that the wine was dosed with massive amounts of aconite, and your symptoms match.  It’s a very, hm, traditional poison, so treatment is well known.  We’re monitoring both your blood pressure and your heart rate, and you’ve been given an activated charcoal treatment and atropine.”  She paused.  “You seem to be recovering, although your heart rate is still much lower than we’d like.  I’m actually surprised you’re still conscious…”

“That’s normal for Danny, now,” said Jack.  “Well, maybe not this low, but his heartbeat is pretty slow all the time, now.”

“It isn’t in his medical records,” said the doctor.

“Had him checked back in the US.  I guess it never made it here.”

“We had other concerns at the time, Jack,” said Maddie from where she was sitting in a chair next to Danny’s bed.

Oh, yeah, Danny had the impression he was missing a metric ton of significant looks.  

“Well,” said Danny, “I feel… not great, but okay?  Like, my skin is still pretty numb, kind of like when you get an anesthetic from the dentist.”

There were, however, significant looks that Danny wasn’t missing.  Apparently, he wasn’t seeing the ghosts with his physical eyes, but with something else, because they stood out sharply from their blurry surroundings.  Right now, they were looking at him like Jazz did, when he said he wasn’t hurt after a fight.  

Really, he was fine.  Spooked, but fine.  

(In some ways, it was sort of a relief to know that he was human enough to be affected by poison.  Being half dead had a tendency to make you hyper aware of your own mortality and dubious of it at the same time.)

“But, back to it being wolfsbane.  Why wolfsbane?  You’d have found that if that was why everyone else…  I mean, they don’t think you’re a werewolf or something, do they?  Is that a thing?”

Matthew sighed.  “No, I’m not a werewolf.”  Another sigh.  “Unfortunately.  I’d love to only have to worry about wolfsbane and silver”

“No, that’s not what’s going on,” said Maddie.

“So what is going on?  I think I deserve to know, having been almost killed and all.  Are you going to try again with the coronation?  And- And has anyone found Vivian yet?”  He tried to send an apologetic expression Vivian’s way, for using her as a conversation pivot.

“Doctor Hys,” said Matthew.  “This discussion is about to touch on both family matters and those of state, so if you can continue your monitoring else where…?”

“Of course, your highness.  May God and the ancestors bless you.”  Danny saw the door, briefly, as a rectangle of slightly dimmer light, and then the doctor closed it behind herself, and the family was alone.  

“The Assembly is discussing regency,” said Joanna.  

“Which they really should have since the beginning,” added Eugene.

Danny wasn’t so sure of that.  He wasn’t clear on all the details, but regents had fewer powers than a sitting monarch.  They couldn’t change throne policies - like the one about approval of foreign businesses, Danny realized - or appoint new Secretaries - which would leave the Speaker hearing spy reports.  Great-Grandma Rose had been Alfred’s King’s Secretary.

Other countries would probably have a conniption about the conflict of interest.

“It makes more sense than declaring one of us king or queen without the trials,” agreed Joanna.  “They were set on it, but now they think the poisoning is a… bad omen.”  There was a guilty sort of satisfaction in her tone.  

Maddie scoffed.  “Can you not?” she asked.  “Here, with my son seriously injured, can we discuss this like rational human beings who live in this century?”

“If we were dealing with rational human beings,” said Irene, “we would.  But a person willing to commit so many murders isn’t rational.  Nor are… humans in general.”

“Mom,” said George.  

“I want to know about Vivian as well,” said Jazz.  “There has to be something about where she went.”

“The investigation there is ongoing,” said Matthew.  “For the rest of Danny’s questions… To start at the beginning, you wouldn’t know this, but in the very distant past, there was a legend that members of the royal family with the favor of the spirits and the ancestors were immune to wolfsbane poisoning.  So, of course, any member of the royal family who was successfully poisoned didn’t have their favor.”  His blurry form made a shrugging motion.  “It’s been discredited nearly that long - there were herbalists back then who were occasionally able to use belladona to counter some of the effects of aconite poisoning - but that particular method of assassination has become traditional for signaling certain grievances.”

“Did Lord Kyppe have those grievances?” asked Iris, darkly.  

“He’s maintaining that he had no idea.  Which, considering his position, is very nearly as bad,” said Matthew.  “Even if he turns out to be innocent, the traditionalist faction will be out for his blood.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Jack.  “Forget them!  Maddie and I are out for his blood!”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Matthew, dryly.  “And, then… You are right that we’d be able to tell if- if everyone else died of aconite poisoning.  It decays quickly, but not that quickly.”  He shook his head.  “We–”

He was interrupted by a phone ringtone, a high-pitched electronic version of the Avlynyse national anthem.  

“Hello?” answered Sophia tremulously.  There was some shifting as she moved through the room.  “Alright,” she said, voice already cracked and tearful.  “I’m sitting down.”  There was a beat, and then Sophia made a high, keening sound.  

“Mom?  What-  What’s wrong?”

Another phone started to ring (still with the national anthem, but a slightly more traditional version), and Matthew swore.  “What?” he snapped.  “Oh, God.  Are you sure it’s her?  Yes.  Yes.  We’ll make the announcement… shortly.”  Matthew took a deep breath and closed his phone with a snap.  “They found Vivian’s body.”  

There was quiet.  Danny was sure everyone had already at least suspected that Vivian was dead.  Having it confirmed was something different.  

“Oh,” said Leo, weakly.  “Oh.  Do they… do they know how…?”

“You don’t want to–” started Matthew.  

“She’s my sister.”

Matthew exhaled slowly.  “She was beaten to death.  They stole her Key and the Lesser Seal.”  He inhaled again, loud enough to be heard.  “We’re going to need to make a public statement.  And–”  His phone tweedled.  “And the Assembly wants to have a special session to hash out a regency decision, and–” another tweedle, “and, ancestors.”  More tweedles.  “It’s going to be never ending.  My family is dying, and–”  He fell silent.  

“Matthew?” asked Irene from the same general area Sophia was in.  Were they hugging?  Maybe?  “What’s wrong?”

“Investigation just found that someone replaced the contents of Grandma’s capsule pills with nitroglycerin,” said Matthew, tersely.  “Matches with her symptoms… heart stopped, but not the other signs of anaphylaxis, darn it.”

“That’s… three different causes of death, isn’t it?” asked Jazz, thinly.  “Four different methods, if you count the wolfsbane.  That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” said Matthew.  “It could be six, for all I–  Nevermind that.  We need to get back to Kyr Argyn, for the special session, and ‘figure out what the future will look like.’”

“We who?” asked George.  

“Adults,” said Matthew.  “Anyone eligible for regency.”

“Not me, then,” said Eugene.  

“You, too,” said Matthew.  “Just because some idiots in the newspapers called you a bastard a few times doesn’t mean you aren’t perfectly legitimate, legally speaking.”  

“Wait, what do you mean I’m legitimate?  I thought–”

“You can’t expect me to leave Danny,” interrupted Maddie.  “He was just poisoned.”

“Legally, everyone currently in the country–”

“I can stay, Mads,” said Jack.  “Me’n Jazz’ll hold down the fort with Danny here.”

“We really do need you to come,” said Matthew.

“Fine,” said Maddie.  “Danny, I–”

“It’s okay, Mom.  I’ll be fine.  I am fine.”  

Maddie patted his hand.  “We’ll have to disagree on that.  Jazz, if you notice anything unusual, let your father and the doctors know right away.  And– Who from security will be staying with them?”

Matthew rattled off a list of names that Danny instantly forgot.  

“Right,” said Maddie.  “Let them know, too.  Danny, just… try to be safe.”

Well.  Ouch.  Danny would have everyone know that he always tried to be safe.  And careful.  And a lot of other things.

It took a few most of a half an hour for everyone to move out.  Apparently they had to coordinate with the security team, get everything lined up beforehand, etcetera.  

“I think,” said Danny, “that I’m in shock.  Emotionally speaking.”

“That makes all of us,” said Jazz.

.

Jazz couldn't give him the kit until they were alone and Jack had dozed off.  

"Security took me back to the house to get some of your clothes and things.  You're going to have to help me, though.  I don't know what's best for poisoning."

Neither did Danny, really.  Surprisingly, poison, contact or otherwise, wasn't something he had to deal with all that often.  Except for blood blossoms… and whatever was in Vlad’s stupid knockout gas, and those spiders that one time… did Spectra’s weird ghost mosquitoes count as poison?

Next chance they got, Team Phantom would have to look into poison remedies.  

“Energy tablet for now,” said Danny.  “Then, um.  The little jar of eyewash.”  The eyewash was a dilute solution of ectoplasm and salt, usually used for eye injuries, or the irritation that he sometimes got from his eyes deciding to be flashlights, but it could help. It’d be nice to be able to focus his eyes again.

Jazz passed over the tablets almost immediately.  The eyewash, however…

Danny sniffed at the jar.  “This isn’t the eyewash.”  It was, in fact, the blood blossom cream.  After a few additional natural portal related journeys, Danny had found that while just being near blood blossoms in ghost form was agony, touching them in human form gave him a nasty, itching rash.  And hives.  And… And there was a thought there, but it wouldn’t come loose.  

“It’s the only jar you have,” said Jazz.  

Danny frowned.  “Oh,” he said.  “I might have…  Not brought the eyewash, I guess.”

“Why?”

“It’s liquid.  You’re not supposed to bring liquids on planes.”

“We had a private charter flight.”

“I didn’t know that when I packed.”  He handed the cream back to her and chewed on the energy tablet.  Ecto-dejecto and weird dehydrated orange juice powder.  Yum.  

Not.  

“I brought something else as well,” said Jazz, pulling something small and square from her purse and unfolding it.  

Danny squinted.  “Jazz,” he said, his whisper dripping with as much disappointment as he could squeeze in, “is that a ouija board?”

“I thought it could help with, you know.”  She leaned in, and if the only witness wasn’t dead asleep, she would have definitely given them away.  “With communicating with your invisible friends.”

“Can we not say things that make me sound crazy?” asked Danny.  “And I know you can’t be serious.  Ouija boards are trademarked by Hasbro.  Nothing trademarked by Hasbro can possibly be spiritual.”

“I don’t mean like that,” said Jazz.  “I mean, regardless of what it’s supposed to be used for, it’s still got the alphabet on it.  If the ghosts here can’t write anything out, they can at least point and you can read what they’re saying.”

Good idea, except… “I can barely see, Jazz.  Everything is little blobs of color.”

“Okay,” said Jazz, “but you can still see well enough to point where they’re pointing, right?”

“Well… yeah.  I can see them pretty well, actually.”

“Great,” said Jazz.  “Then, I’ll read off what you’re pointing at, okay?”

Danny looked up at Gwensyvyr, who shrugged, then nodded.  “Okay, yeah.”

“Then let’s start with Vivian–”

“She’s not here.”

“What?”  

“She went with Aunt Sophia and Lewis and Leo.”

“Oh.  Well.  That makes sense.  Who’s here, then?”

“Uh,” said Danny.  “A whole bunch of people.  And Gwensyvyr.”

Silence.  

“As in, the founder–” started Jazz.

“Of Avlynys Gwensyvyr?” they finished together.  

“Yeah, that Gwensyvyr,” said Danny.  

“Okay.  Um.  Nice to meet you…?”  Jazz paused for a long moment.  “This is really weird.  Did you see who tried to poison Matthew?”

Danny followed Gwensyvyr’s finger.  

“Hm,” said Jazz.  “That’s a yes.  Do you know their name?”

Gwensyvyr shifted.  

“No.  So.  That’s too bad.  Anyone else here know their name?”.

.

Matthew’s would-be poisoner, as it turned out, was a young, red-headed man with a press badge that said his name was Wallace Hadryn.  Right before the ceremony, he’d had a quick interview with the Cupbearer, and dropped two pills into the cup while distracting the Cupbearer ‘masterfully’ in the words of one of the ghosts.  

The pills had been red.  All but invisible against the dark wine.  They’d dissolved slowly, and the Cupbearer’s high-tech tests and traditional sip hadn’t affected him.  

“At least,” said Jazz, “not at the time.  I wonder if he might start feeling some symptoms anyway.”

Before that, none of the ghosts had been particularly paying attention to the young man, so they didn’t know who he’d talked to before, if anyone.  

As for who had killed the others…  The ghosts had no real idea.  They’d been repelled from the area, and had only seen ‘suspicious figures’ at a distance.  If that.  

That was bad.  It was very bad that whoever did this knew the ghosts were there and could get rid of them.  Or that whoever had killed them had coincidentally stumbled on something that could banish ghosts.  Even if they were weak ghosts.  

Gwensyvyr had suspicions, though.

There have always been those who seek to tear power from this land and all kinds of people leave ghosts, Gwensyvyr had picked out, letter by letter.  I fear this is a plan long brewed.  We have been growing weaker for some time, even before your grandfather’s death.  Cut off from allies.  Many of my kin have only woken for this latest tragedy, and will sleep again, perhaps forever, and some sleep still.  No hope for the future.  

At least, that's what Danny and Jazz had eventually puzzled out.  Wonderful their ancestor might be, it was clear she'd never practiced the art of spelling.  In any language.  

“You think the ones doing this are ghosts?” asked Danny.  

Perhaps.  Or they are guided by ghosts.  Look to the death of your grandfather, of your grandmother.  Look at those who preach progress and stability, but only think of paper gold.  She bared her teeth.  Look at their corporations and businesses.  These worms in the Assembly.  I call especially for you to look on Julius Skippa.  His father brought in that vile construction business.

“But why would they do it?” asked Jazz.  “Apart from the usual mundane reasons, I mean.  It seems like all they’d have to do is wait.”

There are sacred things our family has long been charged with, older than this kingdom.  Things that have been desecrated and not restored.  Things that I may not speak of.  Your grandfather was the last to attempt the trials.  Vyvyan was preparing for them.  

“They would have noticed something,” said Danny.  “Or the trials would have fixed some of it.”

Gwensyvyr nodded and pointed at yes.  I think, too, that the monsters wish to return.  To take more than what they have taken already.  Thus the seal.  Thus the key.  Would that I were stronger!  I would tear them to shreds if they tried.  

“But Matthew wasn’t going to do the trials,” said Jazz.  “Not right away, at least, and with everything else, it would have been easy to distract him from ever taking them.”

But Mathyw denied them.  On the phone, and later, in the halls of Kyr Argyn.  And I am not certain sure that we face only one enemy.

A ghost phased through the wall and made gestures at Gwensyvyr, who nodded.  

Keep safe, little syvyrys.  The title - applied to both him and Jazz - made Danny blink, then flush.  His numbness must be getting better, for him to feel that.  With you here, there is hope for the future after all.  Then Gwensyvyr took a step back from the board and made a closing motion with her hand.  

Jazz hastily closed and put away the ouija board.  Just in time.  Matthew had returned.  

“Jazz, Danny, how are you?”

“Fine,” said Danny.  

“As well as can be expected,” said Jazz.

Matthew smiled tightly.  “Jack,” he said.  “Maddie wants to talk to you.  Jack!”  He nudged Jack’s shoulder.  

“Whazzat?”

“Maddie wants to talk to you.”

“Alright, then,” said Jack.  “Will you–”

“I’ll watch the kids, yes.”

“Okay!  Stay safe, kids!”

“That was fast,” commented Jazz.  

“It didn’t seem that way,” said Matthew.  “You two didn’t realize there were monitored security cameras in here, did you?”

Danny’s heart leapt into his throat.  From the way Jazz froze, he suspected hers had done the same.  

It made sense that there would be, of course.  In retrospect, security wouldn’t have left them alone like this otherwise, but that meant…

“How long,” asked Matthew, voice trembling with some emotion Danny couldn’t place, “have you been a syvyr?”

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt22 #ectoberhaunt 2022 day 24: past and future #ancestral fic #ectoberhaunt 2022 #day 24

[nerianasims]

Billboards #1 1972

Under the cut.

Don McLean – “American Pie” -- January 15, 1972

I grew up without having a clue what McLean was supposedly singing about, so I figured it was some weird fantasy thing. Maybe he meant it to be deadly serious, maybe not. He's always refused to explain it, which is the smart move. I find it fun like a big Broadway song.

Al Green – “Let’s Stay Together” -- February 12, 1972

I'm always predisposed to love soul music. And this is Al Green, singing a heartfelt song to his love that they should stay together forever, through everything. "Loving you whether, whether/ Times are good or bad, happy or sad." It sounds like marriage vows. Great song.

Nilsson – “Without You” -- February 19, 1972

I have to be in a particular kind of mood to enjoy this song. Cheerful enough not to mind pure, unadulterated soft cheese. Sort of the emotional equivalent of eating cream cheese plain. Nilsson sounds like he truly means it, which is what saves the song. It is fun to belt out the chorus along with him.

Neil Young – “Heart Of Gold” -- March 18, 1972

Okay but so why do you deserve a heart of gold? You've been searching and not found one, but maybe if you did things to draw someone with a heart of gold to you, it wouldn't be so hard. Yeah, the narrator of this song annoys me. To be honest, Neil Young's voice kinda does too. It's one of the rare songs where I prefer the instrumental parts to the sung parts. The harmonica's great. Actually I think I might prefer this song if it were entirely instrumental, because it is pretty. Otherwise, meh.

America – “A Horse With No Name” -- March 25, 1972

The subculture you're in is more important to your life than whatever bigger culture it happens to exist within. And in the 90s, my subculture loved Wally Pleasant, the local East Lansing comedy folk singer. On his album "Songs About Stuff," there's a song called "Lost Weekend Las Vegas." He takes off from a Michigan winter to Las Vegas. There, he meets a "real nice showgirl," and in a conversation with her, he brings up "A Horse With No Name." "You know that song/ By Neil Young/ She said you're wrong/ Neil Young didn't sing that song." I can never hear "A Horse With No Name" without thinking of "Lost Weekend Las Vegas."

Wally Pleasant at one point sings, "I've had about enough of this crazy stupid trip." I kinda feel like that silly humor song has more to say about life than "A Horse With No Name." But "A Horse With  No Name" sure sounds good.

Roberta Flack – “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” -- April 15, 1972

Roberta Flack is an amazing singer, and this is a good love song. But I don't like it. It's too drawn out and slow. It was originally about twice as fast, and that doesn't surprise me. When a song doesn't seem to have any type of beat, it can give me a headache, and this one does.

The Chi-Lites – “Oh Girl” -- May 27, 1972

Doing this list, I have come to realize how much I like the harmonica. I always knew I liked it, but never knew before that it's in my top tier of instruments, like the alto flute and cello. The harmonica in this song laments even better than the singer, Eugene Record, who is great. As for the lyrics, the singer has cheated, and it's pretty strongly hinted that peer pressure to be macho had a lot to do with it. "All my friends call me a fool/ They say let the woman take care of you/ So I try to be hip and think like the crowd/ But even the crowd can't help me now." He needs new friends. He's completely helpless, emotionally, without his "girl," and now he's gone and screwed everything up, and he knows it. A beautiful song with much more to say than about just one relationship.

The Staple Singers – “I’ll Take You There” -- June 3, 1972

This is a gospel/funk song about heaven. It's musically good, but so repetitive I can only handle about a minute of it.

Sammy Davis Jr. – “The Candy Man” -- June 10, 1972

So this is a thing that happened. "The Candy Man" is a song from the Gene Wilder Willy Wonka movie, which bugs me in the ways it changes the book's plot, though I still like it. The song should never have been a hit, let alone a #1 hit, let alone one sung by Sammy Davis Jr. He sounds embarrassed singing it, and I'm embarrassed listening to it. Sammy Davis Jr. deserved multiple #1 hits -- he was the best singer of The Rat Pack -- but not this one. It's depressing that this is what he got.

Neil Diamond – “Song Sung Blue” -- July 1, 1972

I don't like Neil Diamond. I don't particularly dislike Neil Diamond either. To me, Neil Diamond exists when I am reminded of his existence and then flickers out as soon as I am no longer forced to think of him. This song sounds like a nursery rhyme. Subject: Everyone gets sad sometimes and sings the blues. There are good songs about that. This is not one of them.

Bill Withers – “Lean On Me” -- July 8, 1972

This is one of them. Not just good, but great. The melody is simple, as is the concept. But it keeps building and building. Truly great.

Gilbert O’Sullivan – “Alone Again (Naturally)” -- July 29, 1972

Well this song is weird. It's jaunty, though it is in minor key. And it's about how the narrator was stood up at the altar and plans to kill himself. And how also his mother was destroyed when his father died. And how his mother died too. And now he's "alone again, naturally." I don't like it at all. It needs to be different musically, and even then I wouldn't like something this wildly depressing.

Looking Glass – “Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl)” -- August 26, 1972

A lot of sailors want Brandy, but she's in love with a man whose only true love is the sea and that's why she turns them all down. That's her excuse, anyway. I think she wants to be a sailor like the guy, and she understands not wanting to settle down because she doesn't want to either. It's a fun song to sing along to.

Three Dog Night – “Black & White” -- September 16, 1972

It's a song about racial harmony. It's simplistic, but that's okay, it's a pop song. I wish it weren't so musically simplistic.

Mac Davis – “Baby, Don’t Get Hooked On Me” -- September 23, 1972

The narrator is telling "you" that he can tell you're falling in love with him, and that you shouldn't. A guy did this with me once. Turned out he was actually falling in love with me and was projecting or something. So that's how I see this song. Except the song is worse, because it's incredibly annoying musically, with a weird beat and strange gaps. Also it's smarmy.

Michael Jackson – “Ben” -- October 14, 1972

Michael Jackson was only 14 when he sang this song, so I'm not going to get into it deeply. It's a friendship song to a killer rat in a horror movie, though so... that's a thing.

Chuck Berry – “My Ding-A-Ling” -- October 21, 1972

It's a 46-year old man pretending to be a little kid singing about his own dick. I can't begin to comprehend why it was a hit, or why it was even a thing in the first place. Yech. Moving on.

Johnny Nash – “I Can See Clearly Now” -- November 4, 1972

In the song, the narrator still has problems, but he can see how to solve them, finally. It's sort of reggae-ish, but very lightly. It's a great, optimistic song.

The Temptations – “Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone” -- December 2, 1972

This song takes a bit to get going, but I don't mind at all. The music and instruments keep changing up, and the great bassline propels it all. It builds up the tension in a great way. Then, finally, a Temptation starts, "It was the third of September." I'm not to that point listening to the song yet, and I didn't look it up. But I know this song. It's in my blood. It's unflinching. "Never heard nothing but bad things about him." The song doesn't try to pretend to any uplifting or hopeful message. But it feels so good. That's the blues, whatever genre it's slotted into.

Helen Reddy – “I Am Woman” -- December 9, 1972

"I am woman, hear me roar." She's not roaring. She's meowing maybe. Maybe if Reddy had sung the song with more power, people would have been scared by it. I like the lyrics, which are sadly still very relevant, though we have come far. But the music belongs with some peppy love ballad.

Billy Paul – “Me And Mrs. Jones” -- December 16, 1972

Oh god I love this song. Billy Paul's a jazz singer, and uses his voice like an instrument. And he gets every drop of sadness out of the song without melodrama. He's not self-pitying, and while he's heartbroken, he's still thoughtful. It's a beautiful song about an adult going through being a cheater. For someone with a conscience, "going through" is the right term. This guy's not sleeping around carelessly. "We both know that it's wrong." He fell deeply in love with someone else. It happens. The song is beautiful and heartbreaking and I adore it.

BEST OF 1972:  "Papa Was A Rollin' Stone" by The Temptations  WORST OF 1972: "My Ding-A-Ling" by Chuck Berry

#billboard number ones

[spacesuitsforemergency]

Please and Thank You (Eugene LeBeau x Waitress! Reader)

Very short and very self indulgent, I’m rusty so here’s this lol

“Miss, where’s my coffee?”

“Waitress! I’ve been waitin’ for my food for half an’ hour now!”

“Can we get some napkins over here?”

“Lady, where’s my food?”

You grumbled curses to yourself as you carried tray after tray of food out to the diner from the kitchen, your head hurting from the constant demands. Waitressing sucked on a number of levels, but hey, it pays the bills. Thankfully, your shift was almost over, then you got to close up and go home to your lonely, quiet apartment.

Eventually all the customers cleared out as it became dark outside, the streets lit up by the lampposts and smooth jazz playing from a couple street performers. You always cherished this time of night, the melodies of the trumpets and saxophones soothing your aching head and relaxing you after a day of hard work. You rolled your eyes when you heard the bell ring, alerting you someone had entered the diner.

“Sorry, but we’re clo-“

You turned around to tell the person to get out, but froze like a deer in headlights when you saw possibly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen. What lured you in was his eyes, bright red irises against pitch black sclera, which seemed to make them glow. He had peach skin, and fluffy brown hair emerging from behind his black cowl. You felt like you recognized him, but that was impossible, you would’ve remembered those eyes. Those...enchanting...piercing...sparkling eyes...

“Well, sign says open, Cher.” He shrugged his brown trench coat off, flipping it over his shoulder as his other hand rested on his hip. You wanted to tell him to go somewhere else so you could go home, but you also didn’t want to send the handsome, familiar stranger off and never see him again.

“Um...fine, take a seat.” You gave in, to which he grinned and sat at the bar counter.

“Don’ worry, lil lady, I won’ make ya cook anyt’ing. Just a coffee an’ one of them beignets, please an’ thank you.” He watched you round the counter to the coffee machine, pouring a steaming hot mug for him.

“So what are you doing drinking coffee at this hour?” You asked as you set it in front of him, leaning on the counter to gaze into his eyes not so discreetly.

“What are you doin’ workin’ at this hour...Y/N?” He read your name tag as he raised the mug to his lips. “Who knows wha’ kinda creeps could waltz in.”

“What, like you?” You leaned a little closer over the counter, feeling lured in by those eyes of his as they didn’t break contact with yours.

“Darlin’, you ain’t got no idea what a creep I am.” He set the mug down and leaned even closer to you, your noses just barely not touching. You could smell his surprisingly expensive cologne, as his eyes bore into yours.

He suddenly grabbed something from his pocket, a playing card, and it started to glow pink before it was held to your throat, just under your chin. Your eyes widened in fear as he stood up and jumped over the counter, the card never leaving your throat. He still had the same charming smirk on his face, eyebrows arched downwards and his eyes had a mischievous glint to them.

“Now. Let’s make this quick and easy, huh? I wan’ everyt’ing in da regista’, please and thank you.” He flashed a dazzling smile down at you.

You then remembered exactly who he was, and you felt stupid for not realizing earlier that he was Maneuver, half of the notorious con duo of the bayou, Tactic and Maneuver. You wanted to punch yourself for not remembering, and you wanted to punch him for tricking you so easily.

“I’m not opening it for you.” You crossed your arms. You’re not sure where the courage came from, especially with something that could explode at any second pressed to your throat, but there it was. He didn’t falter for a second, pressing it harder into your throat for a brief moment before sighing.

“Very well then.” He moved the card away from your throat, instead slipping it into the slot of the cash register and letting go. He quickly tugged you to his chest and lifted his trench coat, blocking both of you from the metal shards of the register exploding. He turned to grab the money so you took the opportunity to try and run, but he gracefully jumped over the counter again and blocked the door.

“Nuh uh, lil lady, I can’t have ya alertin’ no cops.” He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of one of his many pockets.

“What, you just carry those around?” You snapped as he grabbed your wrist and cuffed you to one of the bar stools that was bolted to the floor.

“Of course I do, I don’t just use em’ for dis.” He winked as he rounded to counter to collect the cash, also helping himself to a beignet, which to be fair, he had actually paid for. Not that that mattered anymore, as he was taking the money back.

“Are ya done flirtin’?” A girl suddenly appeared in the doorway, leaned against the door frame and holding a bo staff. You hadn’t even heard the bell ring, which was slightly impressive but also concerning.

“Yeah yeah, hold ya horses, sis.” Maneuver grumbled, taking his sweet time collecting the cash and nodding along to the music from outside.

“Hey darlin’.” The girl smiled down at you, her eyes matched his, so you assumed this was Tactic. “Sorry bout him, he talks too much.”

“Tell me about it.” You mumbled, kind of ticked off you might be handcuffed in this stupid diner all night rather than in your bed...um, not that you wanted to be handcuffed in your bed either...

“I like her.” Tactic giggled at her brothers offended face. “Now hurry up, I wanna get home before it’s her bedtime.”

“On it, Jesus! Give me five seconds!” Maneuver shouted at her as she slinked out of the doorway and disappeared into the shadows between buildings. You weren’t sure what ‘her bedtime’ meant, but you also didn’t care much as you watched Maneuver snatch a couple more beignets before he headed for the door.

“Hey! You’re just gonna leave me here?” You complained.

“Can’t have ya runnin’ off tellin’ everyone I was jus’ here, now can I, Miss Y/N? But here.” He grabbed a key from his pocket and tossed it just out of your reach, along with a piece of paper that had a phone number on it. He then went out the door, turning to wink at you one last time. “I’ll see ya aroun’, doll! Call me!”

“MANEUVER YOU PIG!”

#but this is probably like a canon interaction he’s had with soem poor waitress over the years let’s be honest- #eugene lebeau #maneuver

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Live a Little [Part 2] Small Talk [Billy Hargrove]

Tag List: @speedmetalqueen​

Something strange is happening in Hawkins; the earth is sour.

By the time you return home on Wednesday, Hopper is there. His shrill and revolting Blazer is parked in the grass next to the company truck your Pops got from his boss at the mill. This concerns you a little – your Pops works long hours, so he isn’t usually home until 4 – but other than missing curfew, you feel as if you’ve done nothing to warrant Hopper’s attention.

It’s not unusual to see him here; at your house, having a drink with your father. They do this on occasion, but since the mess with the Buyer’s family, you haven’t seen him much. Which is why you feel anxious as you step up onto the front porch and greet him – neither he or your Pops look to be in a good mood.

“Been waiting on ya, girl. I had to take off work for Jim here to come and have a look at the field,” your father snaps. He spits tobacco juice over the railing and gives Hopper a dirty look.

This does not go by unnoticed as Hopper gives him one back. “Don’t blame this on me, you old bastard. You called me, remember?”

You pucker a brow. What could they be talking about? “I stayed over for a little bit; the drama teacher asked me to help her set up the stage. What is this about?”

“I just have some questions for you about the pumpkin patch,” Hopper mentions. He gestures towards your father. “Clark says you were the first to notice them … rotting and shit.”

You snort – police work does not suit him. “Yeah, before I left for school on Monday.”

“Same thing is happening all over town,” Hopper states. “Mind showing me where you first saw it.”

Your father shakes his head. He mumbles under his breath, but doesn’t say no. Instead he spits over the railing again, and walks into the house with a huff. You understand why; the same question eludes you. Why does Hopper need you to show him?

The anxious feeling in your gut comes to life again, but regardless you lead Hopper off the porch and towards the field.

A few meters from the house you see the damaged patches. It smells awful, but you suck it up and trek on.

“Right over there is where I first noticed it. Pops set up a marker to remind himself so he could section off the bad from the good,” you explain. You point towards the metal post sticking out of the ground.

Hopper moves towards it, but you stay just outside of the border, so not to ruin your school shoes – Momma would have a cow. As he examines the husks of rotten fruit, you notice that the rate of decay seems to have increased since the last time you checked. Just about all of the plants are dead now; it’s a real mess. Bacteria from the earth slowly eats away at the fruit from the inside out, then webs on to the next patch, like a flesh eating virus.

“What do you think about all this? Seen anything like it before?”

You shrug to his question. “I have no earthly idea what happened to them; Pops is pissed though. He thinks someone is poisoning our field.” But who would do that to a bunch of pumpkins? Halloween is about the only season anyone would want one; there’s no money in it.

Hopper draws your attention with a snort. “Not this bullshit again. Every farmer in this damn town is putting blame on Merrill or Eugene; it’s more than that.”

“Then what do you believe is causing it? I thought at first the soil was too moist, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Maybe … hell I don’t know,” he answers. Sloshing back through the mud and the pumpkin innards, he stands beside you and lights a cigarette. “I got enough shit to worry about right now.”

Taking a drag, he sighs. “There ever been a time when you got mad at your Pops? But … all he did was try to protect you. Know what I’m trying to say? Like you thought he was being unfair when he wasn’t.”

You nearly laugh. He’s obviously got something on his mind, but with how prudent he is with his feelings, you doubt he will ever tell you.

“Only about a hundred times,” you confess. “I’ve even went as far as locking myself in my room for hours just to show him how pissed I was at him.”

You remember those times like it were yesterday; a gentle smile pulls at your lips. “But you know … once I calmed down a bit and thought it over, I realized that he was only trying to keep me safe. He was right to be scared; I could have been hurt. It made me so damn mad to be made out like a unpleasant child.”

“What did ya do? Take him on?”

You shake in disagreement. “I did nothing. He’s my father, and I love him. Be nothing like him, but always listen; that’s what he’d tell me.”

“Because you love him ––

Not sure if he means to say this out loud, you choose not to make a response. It doesn’t matter; Hopper will figure it out.

What concerns you is the state of the crops. If whatever is causing the ground to sour continues to spread, then nothing may ever grow on this land again. Who knows the course of action your father will take. He may even sell the farm.

Then what will you do? No farm means no second source of income if the symptoms should escalate.

“Looks like it might rain,” Says Hopper suddenly.

You glance up. Sure enough the sky is dull and gray.

--

Hopper should have been a soothsayer – his intuition is on the mark. The rain soaks you to the bone within minutes of stepping outside of the truck.

You can't stand that you know this word; soothsayer. Your brother is such a nerd, it’s hard to ignore the terms of Dungeons & Dragons when he prattles on day in and day out about them.

This little bit of information is just small talk; a distraction to keep your mind from focusing on the cool bite of the rain as it comes into contact with your skin. Horrible timing is what it is.

You throw a curse at your mother for putting you in this situation, and your brother for wanting to hang out with his friends on a dreary day such as this. It can’t be helped though. You doubt either of them knew it was going to rain.

Even so, it would not hurt the brat to meet you by the truck. Having to get out and jog across the parking lot of the arcade to fetch him made you want to scream. You cover your head the best you can, but the damage is all ready done.

Biting your tongue in annoyance, you make a dash for the door, but something catches your eye.

The frizzy haired girl is there. She stands under the awning so not to get wet. Your mind is full of questions, but honestly you doubt she even remembers you.

Passing by her with your head down, you enter the arcade and search for the brat. He’s not hard to find; he is near the Dig Dug machine with his friends. Reluctant as he is to leave – some jazz about beating a high score – you manage to bribe him with a promise to give Dungeons & Dragons a try. He agrees with a smile and follows you out.

As you step under the awning, the girl with the frizzy hair comes to mind again. She is still there. You notice that she doesn’t have her skateboard and wonder if she’s waiting for the rain to stop. Your brother goes to the truck without you.

“Do you maybe need a ride? The rain isn’t going to let up anytime soon.”

Her eyes move to you and widen a bit. “I can wait.”

Shy maybe. You aren’t sure. As an alternative, you offer her money for the payphone. She takes it with hesitancy, and goes inside to make her call. Minutes later, she returns and gives you back the extra change.

“Look … if you’re doing this to get points with Billy, then you’re going about it wrong,” she explains with a scowl. “He and I aren’t exactly close.”

You figure she means Goldie. Heat spreads to your face. “Consider it payback for the awkward first encounter we had.”

“You’re not the first; trust me. But you are the first girl he’s brought home that doesn’t fit his type.”

You knot your brows in confusion. “His type?”

She leans close. “You know … a slut.”

This almost makes you snort in laughter. You cover up your mouth to hide a smile. I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.

Raising up your hand, you offer it to her. “I’m [Y/N] by the way.”

She nods her head. “I’m Max.”

Max? Not hard to remember.

A horn suddenly goes off across the parking lot and you shoot a glare at your brother as he urges you to hurry. He can be so impatient sometimes.

“It was nice meeting you Max. Don’t hesitate to ask if ever you need a ride.”

She nods again. “I’ll remember that.”

You wave and head back into the rain. This was embarrassing, but a least you don’t feel so much like an idiot now that you’ve introduced yourself to Max. You just hope this doesn’t get back to Billy. No telling how he’d take it.

Talk about awkward.

#billy hargove x reader #stranger things #romance #maxine mayfield #jim hopper #billy hargrove

[losingmymindtonight]

Whump: Dehumanization

Tony’s always said that the first day of your captivity tells you the most.

It’s a day to focus, analyze, pull together every bit of information you can to estimate just how royally fucked you are.

And by his estimate, he and Peter were so fucked that it didn’t even register on the scale.

First of all, their captors knew exactly who Peter was. They knew he was Spider-Man, knew about the gene mutations, knew everything.

Second of all, they didn’t make any demands. Didn’t monologue about how Tony had wronged them, or how Spider-Man had locked them or someone they loved in jail. They just chucked them in a cell and left them there.

Tony stumbled to his feet at the same time Peter did, breathless and confused. He went through his list of priorities, lining up everything he needed to do in a split second.

“You good, kid?” He gripped Peter’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes roving over his split lip and bruised cheekbone. They’d been a lot rougher with the kid than they had been with him, smacked him around without any real provocation. “Anything broken?”

“No, no.” The kid smiled, albeit weakly. “I’m all good.”

At Peter’s reassurance, he let himself observe the cell. It was plain. The wall, floor, and ceiling were all the same shade of medium gray. There was only a single, narrow cot in the room. It looked incredibly uncomfortable, but he was grateful that they at least had one. There were blankets, too, which Tony intended to wrap Peter up in at the earliest available opportunity. The cell was cold, and the kid struggled to regulate his body temperate ever since the mutation.

Sometimes. spider DNA really wasn’t the best thing in the world.

“Why did they take us?” Peter had wandered over to the door and was running his hands over the cracks, trying to find a weak spot. “They didn’t even say.”

“Not sure, but it doesn’t matter.” He didn’t dare tell the kid that it was disconcerting, that the whole situation was settling a bad feeling in his stomach. “I’m sure they’re just dragging out the suspense, making us wait for it.”

Peter glanced back at him. “People are crazy.”

He snorted. “Yeah, kid, you’re telling me.”

--

They burst into the cell an hour later. Two guards went straight for Tony, pinning him against the wall, while a set of four seized Peter and flung him to the ground in front of a man who Tony assumed must be their leader.

Peter tried to get up, only to have his knees kicked out from behind. He was manhandled until he was kneeling. One of the guards grabbed a fistful of the kid’s curls and forcefully bowed his head.

Peter whimpered. Tony saw red.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snarled, jerking against the hands holding him back. “He’s just a kid. Whatever you want, you can get from me.”

The leader looked at him, impassive. Tony had to grudgingly admit that, if he wasn’t so obviously a fucking sadist, he might’ve said that the guy was attractive. He had short, dark hair. Clean shaven. Young, too. He looked a lot like the business school upstarts he met at college fairs.

“Your capture was never the plan, Mister Stark.” Wait, what? “If you agree to walk away, we’ll free you.”

His eyes narrowed. He heard exactly what the man left out of that proposal. “Does the kid come, too?”

The leader sneered. He poked Peter’s leg with the toe of his boot, disgust twisting his face. “It will not be going anywhere.”

“Then I reject your offer,” he replied coolly.

“Mister Stark!” Yeah, Peter was pissed. “You can’t just-”

One of the guards slammed the butt of his gun against Peter’s temple, effectively silencing his scolding. Tony shouted again, to no avail, while the leader knelt in front of the kid, smiling cruelly.

“Listen closely, insect.” The man grabbed Peter’s chin harshly. “You do not speak unless spoken to. You do not look your superiors in the eye. You do nothing unless you’ve been given permission. Do you understand?”

“Honestly,” Peter said, voice tight with pain, “you just kinda sound like a high school teacher. D’you really expect me to be afraid of you?”

The leader stood suddenly. He nodded to one of the guards. “Break his arm.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tony yelled, panicked. “Leave him-”

The sound of Peter’s bone cracking echoed across the cell. The kid did an admirable job of muffling his scream, but not good enough to hide it entirely.

Tony’s vision blurred with angry tears.

“Peter, hey, kid.” He hated the gleeful look on the men’s face, hated that they were looking at Peter like he was their newest chewtoy. “Just breathe. Breathe through it. It’s-”

He cut himself off. The leader was in his face now, eyes cold and dangerous. Still, he couldn’t help but be relieved that he’d redirected to him rather than the kid. Little victories.

“Now, Mister Stark, since you’re staying,” his eyes roved over his face, calculating, “you should learn the rules as well.”

He glared. “Yeah, yeah. No back-talk. No eye contact. All that jazz.”

“That’s for the mutant. Luckily for you, you’re human.”

For a moment, he floundered. Were these people crazy?

Wait. Never mind. Scratch that. Of course they were crazy. They’d kidnapped him. Historically, not a good move.

He glanced at Peter. “He’s human.”

“No, he’s not. He’s been tainted. It’s our job to eradicate the lesser members of society. To keep the human race pure.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you’re into eugenics? I hate to break it to you, but people’ve tried this kinda shit before, and it’s never worked. The name Adolf Hitler ring any bells? Marie Stopes, perhaps?”

“We will succeed where others have not.”

“Jesus Christ. You really are off your rocker.”

A sharp slap stung across his cheek. “I do not wish to hurt you, but I will not allow you to interfere with our plans.”

“Which are?”

The leader smiled, stepped back. 

Oh, great, he thought, here comes the monologue.

“Enhanced individuals are a threat to society, and yet their powers are exploitable. That’s what we’re here to do.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah? So you, what, imprison them and wait for them to agree to help you out? Nice plan. How’s it going so far?”

“We know how to convince them.”

“Yeah?” Tony drawled, covering his fear with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “And how do you do that?”

“You break them.”

--

Tony learned the rules quickly, because every time he broke them, Peter took the blame.

Peter wasn’t allowed to sit on the bed. Peter wan’t allowed to eat Tony’s portions. Peter wasn’t allowed to make eye contact. Peter wasn’t allowed to be touched. Peter wasn’t allowed to speak, or to be spoken to.

They had cameras hidden in the room, somewhere. Microphones too. One wrong move, and a legion of guards would storm in, beat the kid within an inch of his life, and leave.

After a week, Tony was terrified to even breathe in Peter’s direction.

Their days were spent in stiff agony. Tony would sit as close to the kid as he could justify, hoping that he could exude the calm that he so obviously needed. Hoping that his presence would remind him that not everyone hated him. That he was human.

He could see it tearing him down. He suspected that the lack of touch was one of the worst things. Peter had always been tactile, bushing against Tony’s side or dropping his head onto his shoulder when he laughed. It was a natural thing for the kid to seek physical reassurance.

And now he couldn’t.

--

Nobody used Peter’s name. When they came to take him for their experiments, they’d kick him, spit on him, call him it with disgust.

Tony couldn't use it, either. That was one of the word offenses. Mutants didn’t have names, apparently. Didn’t deserve names. Peter wasn’t Peter, anymore. He was property, a mutant, an it.

Not a child. Certainly not Tony’s child.

The best thing he could do for his kid was ignore him.

--

One day, when they came in and grabbed Peter, intent on taking him god-knows-where and poking and prodding him to their hearts’ content, one of the guards paused and grinned at him.

“How’re you holding up, Stark?”

He strained against the guards holding him. “Tell your buddies to let go and I’ll give you a demonstration.”

The man cackled. “Missing getting to play with your little pet?”

Play. Pet. Peter was nothing to them. Nothing. “Fuck off.”

“Oh, c’mon now, Stark. I’m a reasonable guy.” He crossed his arms, smirk growing. “If you ask nicely, I’ll let you pet the little insect. Whaddya say?”

The idea made bile rise in his throat, but at the same time, he needed to touch the kid. This may be his only chance to give him even an ounce of comfort. He had to do this.

“Fine.” He grit his teeth. “Can I touch him? Please?”

“Ask if you can pet it.”

“You’re disgusting,” he snarled.

“Do you reject my offer?”

“No.” He took a steadying breath. For Peter. I’m so, so sorry, kiddo. “Can I pet it?”

“Say please.”

He locked his pride deep down on his gut, threw away the key. “Maybe I please pet it?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” The man nodded to the other guards. “Bring it here. Daddy Stark wants to give it a little pet. Isn’t that sweet?”

They dragged Peter over. The kid didn’t look up, just kept his eyes trained on the ground, but everything about his body language was keyed up in anticipation.

One of his guards release Tony’s arm with a stiff warning not to try anything, and he dragged it greedily through the kid’s hair.

The guard who struck the deal was beaming. “Tell him he’s a good boy.”

He hid his own smile. The joke was on him: Peter would know what he meant.

“Good boy,” he murmured, pouring every ounce of you’re doing so well, and I’m so proud of you, and just hang in there, buddy into the phrase.

He’d never forget the way Peter nuzzled into his hand in response.

--

They had a system. 12 hours with the lights on, 12 hours with the lights off. Without windows, the room was pitch black.

Peter always curled up on the floor beside Tony’s cot. It was as close to human contact as he was allowed, and the kid was learning to take what he could get.

It took Tony three weeks to work up the courage to drop his hand over the side. He hung it there, knowing it was probably dangling just inches away from Peter’s body, for a solid ten minutes.

Nobody moved. The cell door stayed closed.

Slowly, he ghosted his hand through the air until it knocked against something warm. Peter. Peter’s ribs, to be more exact. He could feel his breaths speed up at the contact.

For a moment, they both froze.

Then, he slid his hand upwards, over the kid’s shoulder until he found his face.

He settled his thumb on his cheekbone and tapped out P.E.T.E.R. in Morse code. He heard the kid’s breath catch.

He did it again.

And again.

And again.

--

Some nights, he’d do exactly what he did on the first: silently tap Peter’s name out against his cheek. Steady, consistent. The only tether he could offer the kid to his identity.

Other nights, he just drew circles between his shoulder blades, or untangled his unwashed hair, or massaged the back of his neck. Little moment of physical intimacy, the only contact either of them had.

But least Tony had his name. At least they treated him like he was human.

--

It took Rhodey 2 months to find them.

When he’d imagined that moment, he’d imagined himself lunging off the cot, rushing to Peter’s side, pulling him into his arms like no time had passed. A reunion for the history books.

He’d spent weeks living in the same cell as the kid, and he’d never felt further from him.

When the door did burst open, however, and revealed the silver-gray War Machine armor instead of monotone uniforms, Tony just froze.

It wasn’t until Rhodey tried to speak to Peter and the kid threw himself into a corner with a panicked whimper than he forced himself into action.

He stumbled to his feet, staggering over to Peter and dropping to his knees a foot or so away from him. “Buddy, hey, it’s over.”

He got an unintelligible sob in response.

“Peter.” The kid physically flinched at the sound of his name, but he didn’t stop. “Peter. You’re name is Peter. Do you hear me, Peter? You’re human. You’re just a kid. Everything they said was wrong, but you’re safe now. Rhodey’s here, I’m here. You’re Peter, and you’re safe.”

Slowly, like a wounded animal curling out from its shell, Peter reached out a hand in Tony’s direction.

It was all the invitation he needed.

He crawled forward and wrapped the kid up in a hug. For a second, all Peter did was flounder. Then, old instinct kicked in, and he was snaking himself around Tony like this had all been a dream, like none of it was real.

“Peter,” he whispered against the kid’s hairline, reverent as a prayer, “Peter. Peter. Peter.”

“Mister Stark,” the kid choked back.

I know, buddy. I know. I hear you.

“Peter.”

#tw: dehumanization #tw: kidnapping #y'know this is usually Shannon's area of expertise but a girl tried #also HEY #look i got a bingo #irondad #irondadbingo #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes