#but also i was thinking about Rocky Horror when writing this so do with that what you will

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

When making a monster story, ask yourself: did you seal their FATE?

Is it freaky

Is there an abomination

Are the themes transsexual in nature

Is it emotionally devastating

#yes I'm thinking about the Minotaur again it's the Minotaur appreciation website ok #the Minotaur and Frankenstein's little guy always do it for me #but also i was thinking about Rocky Horror when writing this so do with that what you will #oh and not quite dead the podcast please listen to not quite dead the podcast #you know what I'm going to be a brave boy and put it into the main tag #not quite dead

[grandlinedreams]

Uwahhh you write law so perfectly!! You’re writing is *chefs kiss* 💞💞 the amount of comfort that radiates from the way you write this nerdy emo doctor …. I die Everytime !!

If I may request- you don’t have to do it!! But- how would law react to a reader that’s easily jumpy, a little over emotional… but is super unfazed by gore/horror? Like they would be one of the wholesome sweetest persons on the crew, practically clings onto Bepo everyday- but will watch law go nuts with his DF powers and they’re super fascinated?? He holds an organ, a heart, in the palm of his hand? They will watch!! Plays around with his medical tools in his lab? Suddenly screams at a small bug sighted?? Law is confused… but kinda curious too

UWAH I’m rambling but I wish you the best of days today 💞💞 thank you and stay awesome !!

Whdhdhs please don't die but also thank-you!! And woeodjdjd i hope I can do this justice!!

[Heads up!: mention of insects/arachnids, mention of the Rocky Port incident, but otherwise fluff!]

There's something crawling up the back of your neck. Thread thin legs splayed across your skin, the creep of movement making you freeze, chill traveling down your spine as you bite back a whimper.

"Hold still."

Fingers graze your skin, curling ㅡ and then Law is pulling the culprit away from you and tossing the insect into the plush grass nearby.

"Thank-you," you say, audible relief in your tone even as you sweep your own hand against your neck and then over your hair, a wave of self-conscious paranoia sweeping over you. Once your check for more creepy-crawlies comes up empty, you relax.

Law watches you, gaze following as you pull ahead of him, apparently now unbothered by your momentary ordeal for the way a smile tugs at your lips and you hum.

You're an enigma to Law. He likes to think that he has something of a talent for figuring people out especially the longer he's around them, but it's been the better part of a year since you joined and Law is no closer to understanding you.

There's your fear of bugs and other multi legged creatures, which Law understands even if he thinks it a little dramatic for a pirate to be reduced to tears over something so insignificant as a spider.

Speaking of tears, you'd cried just the other day ㅡ over a book, no less. He hadn't been able to understand a word you were hiccuping into Bepo's fur, only that the mink was doing his best to comfort you as you sobbed.

"[Name]," Law tries, resting his hand on your head tentatively, "it's just a book. Being upset about something as trivial as thatㅡ"

"It isn't trivial," you wail into Bepo's fur, "I've spent six books getting to know these characters and now they're dead!"

Inwardly, Law can't blame you. He's found himself emotional several times over Sora Warrior of the Sea comics, but the fact that you're clinging to Bepo trumps that empathy for reasons he doesn't want to analyze just yet.

And then as if to throw him for another loop, there'd been the entirety of his stunt at Rocky Port ㅡ given your outbursts with other things, he'd thought you would regard him with horror and disgust the way others did. He is the Surgeon of Death for a reason, after all.

But you don't.

You don't bat an eye at the dozens upon dozens of little blue cubes, each containing a living, beating heart. At one point you pick one up, watching it pulse in a steady rhythm.

"Huh," you say, "so that's what it really looks like?" The reverence with which you both talk and looked at the heart almost makes him uncomfortable.

"Captain," you say, pulling him out of his thoughts as you fall back into step beside him, "I was wondering if I could stop at that bookshop we saw earlier before we leave."

"Maybe," he answers. "That depends. Are you going to cry to Bepo again when something happens?"

"That was one time, forever ago."

"That was last week, [Name]. His fur was soaked for hours." There's something akin to amusement and fondness for how you blush at his teasing, pride in being able to get under your skin.

There's a lot about you that Law doesn't quite understand ㅡ at least, not yet. And truthfully, he doesn't mind when it means he gets to find out.

#ㅡmine. #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered. #anonymous #–ml: law.

[sixth-light]

I've been thinking a lot lately* about how artistic works are so intimately products of their moment and in conversation with it, and how easy this is to overlook both in terms of discussing a work and in terms of anticipating or considering new additions to an older work.

The first is important because so many judgements that can be made about a work are only meaningful when you know what their context was. What readers need or want to see, particularly in terms of representation, is hugely mediated by what else is available to them at the time. Yeah this is about stuff like "Rocky Horror was progressive when it was created" but also it's about stuff like "the John Carter movie bombed because it was regarded as derivative", when in fact the source material originated a bunch of the 'derivative' scenes and tropes that were then used by better-known movies before a John Carter movie ever got made.

The second is important because...even if you come back to a work, as a creator, you can only make new parts of it as the person you are now, in conversation with the world and genre as it is now, not as it was when you started. Taking a mildly-infamous-among-fantasy-fans example, Melanie Rawn's unfinished Ambrai trilogy; she's often said that she can't finish it because her life has moved on and...as sad as I am it was never finished, I think that's probably smart! She could write a third book one day, maybe, but it never could or would be the third book she would have written in the 1990s. And even if she did manage that somehow, the genre has moved on in such a way that it would feel weird and probably quite offputting to read a book doing with gender and feminism what the Ambrai books were doing in the '90s, because they are/were inherently in conversation with an era of fantasy that is now past.

All of which is to say that:

as a reader (or watcher) I think it's good to hold in mind, when engaging with a work from a time and/or place unfamiliar to you, the extent of what you don't know about the context of the work

as a creator, I think it's good to be very realistic about what you're going to actually achieve when you are making something over a long time period or coming back to something you left unfinished. You can totally do that! It can be incredibly rewarding! But the thing you make now is not the thing you would have made then, probably not even the thing you imagined you were going to make then, and that's just the nature of art.

*The reason I have been thinking about this is partly books I have been reading (Mara of the Acoma, you are my blorbo) and partly a very fun podcast I have been listening to which has re-read The Ruins of Ambrai and done a lot of discussion about its context, finishing up with a great interview with Kate Elliott about writing fantasy in the '90s (and writing it now, as she is still writing great but different books!). Anyway go listen to the Hot Nuance Book Club, it's a good time.

#meta #writing #fandom #melanie rawn

[technicallyverycowboy]

playboyy: no fags, no femmes

okay, so. playboyy meta. thanks to @lugarn, @chaos0pikachu, and @cryptidafter for talking all this out with me <3

i originally started this post with "not to be that guy," but honestly, i do want to be that guy. because so much of the critique and analysis of playboyy i'm seeing is a) grounded in a lack of knowledge about queer history and aesthetics and b) veers unintentionally but wildly into unexamined homophobia.

so, given i'm going to reference susan sontag's notes on camp several times, i've decided i might as well go full queer studies major about it and copy the list style she uses. (i would highly recommend reading notes on camp. it is academic and somewhat dense, but it's a tame 13 pages)

1. so many people are confidently asserting that playboyy is not camp, regardless of what the creatives behind the show think. to which i have to ask: how are you defining camp? what things are campy to y'all?

2. the personal definition of camp that i arrived at after writing a bunch of papers about it is two-fold: camp is exaggeration, treating things that are serious casually and treating things that are casual seriously. camp is about an aesthetic of inhabiting a role, where something is a little bit off or being something that it's not meant to be.

and to be clear, this is a wildly incomplete and simplified definition, because one of the points of camp is that it's a vibe, not something concrete. It’s also something that shifts over time the relationship between queerness and society changes.

2a. camp often intersects and overlaps with surrealism, like in rocky horror picture show. very often media that is campy exits the mundane world and enters a heightened world of exaggeration and stylization. 

3. so, is playboyy campy? i sure as hell think it is. i think lugarn and chaos0pikachu both made really good points about the campiness of playboyy and it being specifically sexwork camp. (both replies are at that link.)

4. a brief list of things that specifically resonated as campy to me: first throwing american dollars in the pool for soong to catch, zouey's fantasy of feeling up teena in art class, every single element of nant's room (especially the projected images), captain's sports plot that involved zero doing the sport and 100% fucking and fantasy, the softly romantic framing of nuth and phob's sex scenes, jump's pleather tank top & coverall combination, prom wearing assless chaps to a rooftop party at 2:30 in the afternoon, the entire concept of investigating a disappearance via a themed party... i could go on and on, but i said this was brief.

5. i think the actual problem a lot of people have with playboyy is that it doesn't care about straight people.

6. what i mean by that is that playboyy is not a universal story. you could not plug different characters with different sexualities into the plot and preserve the essence of the story. the gayness of the characters is integral to the plot. the sex work is integral to the plot. this is not a world where homophobia doesn't exist and being gay is just like being straight.

7. additionally, these characters are all performing gender in a specifically queer way. they are femmes and fags, they are obvious, they are clockable, they're visible. when nice gays talk about the people who are giving gays a bad reputation and making it harder for everyone (to assimilate into heteropatriarchy) they're talking about playboyy gays.

8. comparing playboyy to only friends is low hanging fruit at this point, but i would argue that the reason boston stood out in that cast and was so viciously punished by the ending is because he was a fag stuck in a nice gays narrative.

9. and this is where the fandom homophobia comes in. so, so many people describe these characters and chaotic and messy, watchable as incoherent and vaguely amusing from a distance, but without real substance. the resulting narrative is often that no one could take their characters or their stories seriously or resonate with them.

10. again, why? why was ray and sand's high and low, blow up fights, calling each other whores relatable but soong and first's miscommunications about what they mean to each other unbelievable chaos? why is white taking black's place an acceptable plot point, but nont pretending to be nant is absurd?

11. most bls do not deal with flamboyance except in limited capacities by comedic side characters. flamboyance is a baseline trait for most of the playboyy characters. so if they feel too much, too loud, too out there, consider asking yourself why they do.

12. to a large extent, i think a lot of the criticism of playboyy is rooted in a bad faith refusal to engage with the show beyond a surface level pearl clutching about the sexual content. the unspoken belief here being that sex scenes are inherently vulgar distractions. they can't be integral to characters or their relationships. they can't be vital pieces of a narrative.

to which i say, there are nine thousand other BLs out there where the kissing is chaste and sex scenes are ~tastefully abstracted shots of shoulder blades and hands. watch those instead.

13. if you decide you want to watch it anyway, take a couple minutes to examine what parts of the show make you uncomfortable and why. and to be clear, i think there’s a lot of value in watching things that make you uncomfortable; media is often one of the best ways to dip into interrogating your emotional responses from a safe distance. 

but don’t use discomfort to dismiss the possibility that there’s meaningful artistic and stylistic choices made to serve a meaningful narrative. take a second to sit with your reactions and ask yourself where it’s coming from. 

#playboyy #playboyy meta #i want you all to know i hunted through three emails to find the rhetoric of camp essay i wrote in college for this

[layer-10-love]

Lady Moon.

2012 leo x reader-

As the leader or the team, Leo tended to be more focused in leading and less interested in other ‘lesser’ hobbies. So it’s a bit of a surprise when you find a romance novel underneath his pillow.

aka, boy fail cringe leo (affectionate) also i wrote this like in 40 minutes so apologies for bad writing

As the appointed leader, Leo tried to be serious and mature about his role;with no help from his brothers. Strong, calm, confident, stoic and mature was what he was supposedly was. Unfortunately, anyone that knew him for more than a few minutes would know that he is none of these things. At least to a certain extent.

Truth is, Leo…was a big fat nerd. No surprise there. He liked watching space heroes and often gushed about it to the nearest living creature, giving them new meaningless memories and a massive headache. He liked making stupid jokes and god awful puns. It was honestly sorta cute to you.

What was a surprise was the book that was underneath his pillow. You technically weren’t supposed to be going through his things, but he technically should’ve given back that black cat plushie you let him borrow for Halloween. Picking up the book, you glance over the title.

‘The Man and the Moon.’

From the looks of it, it was a romance novel.

…Leo? Leon? Leonardo? Fearless?

You never pegged him for the type to read romance books, hell, you never pegged him for the type to read things other than Japanese literature or comic books.

‘A classic romance novel tells the story of two star-crossed lovers, Max and Luna - both literally and figuratively. Max is a successful businessman who has dedicated his entire life to making his dreams come true, and Luna is a quiet and mysterious woman who seems to have a special connection with the moon. Despite coming from different backgrounds, Max and Luna quickly find themselves drawn to each other, and they must navigate the rocky terrain of love and discover the true meaning of happiness.’

You read as you skimmed over the summarization of the novel. It seemed like a good read! But, if you talked to Leo about your little discovery, you’d probably be in for another classic Leo Lecture about not snooping. Again, it was fair in your humble opinion.

And if you shared this information with his brothers, he would be ridiculed and mocked by his brothers, despite them having weirder hobbies. Aka, Mikey and his weird obsession with boiling pizza. Ah, brotherly love.

You made a mental note on the book and carefully stored it away underneath Leo’s soft pillow.

He doesn’t need to know.

——-

Leo seemed to be busy more often than usual, with the lame excuse of being occupied with meditation and training in his room.

Which was a bummer since tonight was a movie night with everyone. Raph, Mikey, Donnie, April and even Casey were here!

You huffed and sat on the floor in front of Mikey who was sitting on the couch.

“So, what shitty slasher flick are we watching tonight?”

Raph grinned menacingly while holding a dvd and standing in front of the television.

“It’s not a slasher film, god knows Mikey would have nightmares again. Not that I’m against the idea of Mikey suffering, but I don’t want to have to let him sleep in my bed again.”

Mikey cheered from the back,

“I knew you cared about me! See, Casey? Raph likes me more than you.”

Casey frowned and groaned.

“C'mon! Do we really have to watch a baby version of scary movies?! What happened to entertainment and morality?”

“I’m surprised you know the word, ‘morality’”, teased April.

“Nah, I think he’s just throwing out random words and hoping that one of them will make sense. Remember when he said that we should ‘photosynthesis’ and ‘equilibrium’ with the enemy?”, you add mockingly, “You almost made Donnie pop a blood vessel.”

Speaking of Donnie, he rushed right through his lab door carrying multiple blueprints and plans for whatever new project he was working on.

“Hey four eyes! Gonna join us for crappy baby's first horror flick?”

“Why do you call me four eyes, Casey? I’ve never even worn glasses before, so why would you nickname me something that doesn't make any sense?”

“Easy.”, started Casey, “Glasses make you a nerd. YOU are a nerd without glasses, therefore you need glasses since you’re a nerd.”

“Casey connecting the dots? Hell must’ve flown over and pigs must’ve learnt to fly.”, you snickered.

After a whole debate between Donnie and Casey, the pizza was brought by Mikey and the rest of the snacks were laid on the floor by April and Raph. Monthly movie nights were truly a miracle.

But, there’s something missing.

“Where’s Leo?”, Mikey questioned while taking a disgustingly large bite of his pizza.

“Fearless? Eh, he’s probably in the dojo training like always.”

“Probably, but usually everyone joins for these types of things! Do you think he’s training or doing something else?”

“If you care so much why don’t you ask him for yourself, [Name]?”, Raph says, really not caring about anything else other than the movie that he picked.

You grumble and reluctantly head over to Leo’s room, hoping that he wasn’t doing teenage boy activities. Ugh.

You considered knocking on his door, but then you remembered the plushie he never returned and slammed the door open.

Leo scrambled off the bed and onto the ground, holding a familiar book before throwing it off into the distance, praying you didn’t see. He chuckled nervously while leaning suspiciously on his bed.

“Oh! Hey, [Name]…! Uh…do you need something?”

He seemed so anxious and nervous…it was actually kinda cute! It’s like you have two little creatures on your shoulder, each one trying to give you a way to navigate this whole situation.

‘Leave him alone and give him space! That’s the nice thing to do.’, says the one on your right shoulder.

‘Get the book and make fun of him!!!’, giggles the one on your left shoulder.

…it’s obvious who won.

“What were you reading, Leo?” You ask with a teasing grin, watching him squirm under your gaze.

“Oh…uh me? Uhm…comic books! Yeah comic books! I was reading a really weird part so that’s why I was surprised when you came in and…”

Whatever other words that were being soren from him was ignored, you only think about how oddly adorable it was.

You glance at where the book was hastily hidden and chuckled.

“What comic was it?”

Before Leo could make another desperate and obvious lie, you quickly snatched up the book from where he tossed it and read the title. It was the same one as before.

“The Man and the Moon?”, you teased.

“That isn’t mine! April just asked me to hold on to it for her!”, he blushed as he tried to regain his confidence and composure.

“Cmon, Leo, we both know you can’t lie to save your shell.”

He paused and looked away, blushing furiously and fidgeting with his fingers. You sighed and took his hand.

“Hey.”, you look into his eyes. “I pinky swear that I won’t tell your brothers. You know how they are.”, you think back to the time Raph was found playing a dating simulator, and how the bickering lasted for weeks.

“Plus,”, you continued, “it’s not the worst thing you've ever done.”

“…You don’t think it’s weird?”, he asked cautiously.

“Why would it be weird? Like, people read romance all the time.”

“But, y’know…I’m a guy…and a mutant turtle…and well…”

You shrugged and climbed onto his bed, leaning against his plastron once you had sat down next to him.

“Romance is nice, I guess. It’s just another genre in a variety of genres.”, you felt and heard his heart thump faster as he gulped nervously.

“So…”, You started, “Are you gonna go to movie night or what?”

Leo’s eyes widened as he seemed to have a revelation.

“The movie! Crap, I forgot about that!”

#rise of the tmnt #tmnt #tmnt x reader #leo x reader #tmnt 2012 #leonardo x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #kikou drabbles

[flimflamfandom]

Aunt, Uncle, and Finn

Featuring OCs by @ladybugkisses

(this one is kinda long, just so you know!)

Spring. 1938.

Hollywood.

A land of superstars, the rich and famous, beautiful houses and sandy beaches...

all things the Rickaby children wouldn't be seeing.

"Do we HAVE to stay with Uncle Cal, mom?"

"Yes, Toby," Ari answered for what felt like the thousandth time. The 8 year old grumbled in his taxi seat. His sisters, bunched up next to him, were off in their own little worlds - Lucy was reading, and Sophie was staring out the window, in awe of anything other than St. Louis.

The car stopped. The doors opened. The sunlight poured into the cab

and standing there were Aunt Ivy and Uncle Cal.

Aunt Ivy looked stunning in the light as she walked over and hugged dad. She also hugged mom, and patted her back. Uncle Cal looked...droopy. He smiled, but it was weak. And half his tail was missing. He walked, slowly, over to dad, who held him tight, and spoke in a choking voice, "I'm so glad I got to see you again."

Toby knew they weren't really his aunt and uncle - they were something like...cousins?But always, Aunt and Uncle.

"You remember Toby," Mom said, smiling, and ushering Toby towards Ivy. "And Lucy, of course." Lucy waved and smiled politely.

"And you must be Sophie!" Ivy said, kneeling down and picking her up. "Why, I remember when I could hold ya in one hand!"

Mom winced. "Iiiii remember when you did that, too..." She nodded slowly. Ivy scoffed.

"I'm just teasin'."

"How're you, Uncle Calvin?" Lucy asked, rocking back and forth on her feet.

"I'm alright." He said, quietly, carrying a young boy on his shoulders. The boy looked about Sophie's age. He had his mother's fur, and his father's eyes. He was put down by Calvin, and shyly hid behind him.

"Whozat?" Sophie pointed, and walked over.

"Easy, Sophie." Calvin knelt down and smiled. "That's Finn...he's awful shy. He's a good boy, though, eh?" Calvin's voice was quiet, and a bit shaky. Ivy had to help him up.

-

After an hour or so of sitting and catching up, and hearing a lot about tail stuff for some reason, Mom and Dad stood up. "Well, we have to get going," Rocky said, "Gotta go see what the NBC folks want."

"Is Ari gettin' a show too?" Ivy asked. Mom blushed, and shook her head. "No, no...but I help so much with the money, I-" Mom looked at Calvin, and said something. "I don't want to tire him out too much."

"No, yer not tiring!" Ivy looked shocked that mom would even think that. Toby, who'd had to work in a garden under this woman, would disagree with that sentiment, but how would she even be tiring out Calvin?

Must be a grown up thing, Toby thought.

"Ow!" Toby's thoughts suddenly shifted when Sophie stepped on his tail, chasing after a ball. "Careful!" Toby scooped her up, and she giggled and squealed, wriggling in his grip. "You'll pay for that!"

"Nooo!" She yelped, her smile still wide as Toby used all his strength to throw her on the couch. He wasn't a BIG kid - it took a lot out of him! He waved goodbye as mom and dad left, and looked on as Calvin and Ivy glanced at each other.

"It's no crime she doesn't want to see me, Ivy, last time was rough."

"I know, I know. I just...-" The two of them wandered into the kitchen, leaving 4 children alone to their devices.

Lucy had already managed to find something worth reading. She was pouring over some papers at a typewriter, and peering at them. "Wow...this looks like a script!"

"So? That's what Uncle Cal does. He writes scripts."

"But it's a good script!"

"What's it about?"

"Looks like a horror movie. I think." Lucy kept reading, and this time, Toby felt yet another young paw on his tail. He turned around, and saw-

Finn.

Toby went to grab him like he had Sophie, but Finn looked horrified, and jumped on the couch himself, without a word. Toby smiled and laughed. "Gee, guy, I wasn't gonna hurt ya! It's fun!" He said. Sophie, still on the couch, nodded in response. Finn just stared at the two of them, and curled his knees to his chest.

Then, they heard a voice. "Kids! I need to go into town - who's coming with me?"

-

All four of the children BOLTED outside. They knew enough to know that Ivy McMurray was a famous movie actress, so whatever she had to do in town MUST be something exciting. Ivy laughed, and giggled. "No one to stay with Uncle Freckle, huh?"

"I'll be alright."

"Yeah!" Toby said. "He's grown, he can handle himself, let's do something fun!"

Ivy looked over at Calvin, and walked over to him, kissing him softly. "I love you, dearie. Anything happens, let me know, okay?"

"Aye, dear."

"You can handle being on your own?"

Calvin laughed. "The surgery wasn't that bad this time, I'm fine." Calvin kissed her, which drew a 'yech!' from all of the kids, even Finn.

With that, Ivy walked out.

"Where're we going?" Toby asked, sitting in the front seat. He was the oldest, after all.

"Studio lot." Ivy said. "I need to pick up some papers from my dire-"

"The LOT!?" Toby looked amazed. "Where they make the movies!?"

Ivy ruffled his head fur a little. "Where else?" Ivy began to drive down the hill. Lucy, in the back, sat between Sophie and Finn. "Aunt Ivy?" She asked, "Why were you so concerned about Uncle Calvin?"

Ivy paused for a moment. "...your Uncle just had a very...delicate operation." She said. "It affects how he walks a little bit. But he'll-" She hesitated, "He'll be alright."

"Where's his tail?" Sophie asked.

"...it, uhm..." Ivy hesitated some more. Toby swore he thought he saw a tear forming behind her sunglasses. "It...had to be taken off."

"Does it grow back?": Sophie asked.

"Tails don't grow back." Lucy said.

"They do on lizards!" Sophie said, sticking her tongue out at Lucy. Lucy crossed her arms.

"And is Uncle Calvin a lizard?"

"He could be under those big ears!"

Ivy stifled a laugh. "That's-...snrk...that's no way to talk about your..pff...your Uncle!"

-

One thing they don't tell you about film studio lots - it's a bit more boring than one would expect. Ivy had instructed them to wait in the lobby while she got something, and then they would go to another building, and at some point ice cream would be involved. Lucy seemed happy to wait, humming softly and looking at all the posters on the wall. Sophie and Finn were busy learning to communicate without much talking. And Toby?

Toby was bored. Out. Of. His. Wits.

He paced around the lobby, and looked around for something, anything, to do. He walked up to the receptionist. "Hey, is anything exciting going on today?"

"...not that I'm aware of." She said, eyes deep in a magazine. Toby walked off glumly, back to the benches where they were sitting -

Right up to Finn. Who was in his spot

"Finn, I'm sure you're great but you're in my spot. Can you move please?"

Finn just...stared at him.

"May you please move?"

"..."

"Sophie, can you tell him to move?"

"...uhm..." Sophie blinked. "Move?"

Nothing.

"Thanks, Soph'. Doing the lord's work here." Toby said, sarcastically.

"Be nice to Finn," Lucy said, "his dad's dying."

"What? No he's not, Aunt Ivy said he was gonna be fine!"

"They had to cut part of his tail off!"

"So?"

"Remember when they thought they were gonna have to do that to Mom and Dad was sobbing for 2 days straight?"

"...well...I guess-"

"Alright, kids," Ivy walked out, with a few papers, "just a fitting and we're done. Sorry I took s'long!"

-

Finn seemed popular with the people here - he got lollipops. He got pats on his head. He even got to stand with Buster Crabbe. Buster Crabbe! FLASH GORDON, Toby's IDOL, and FINN got to just wave to him!

Before you ask, Toby DID get an autograph - but still, Toby couldn't help but feel jealous when Buster told Finn 'Say hi to yer dad for me'.

And now, they were sitting in another waiting room, while Ivy could be heard from behind a curtain. Lucy, again, found something to do very quickly - and Sophie joined her as she explained how sewing machines work (to the best of her 7 year old ability, of course).

This left Toby, a loud, boisterous young lad, and Finn, a guy who Toby hadn't heard talk once the whole time.

"...so..." Toby looked over. "You, uhm...you like books?"

Finn shrugged.

"...you like movies?"

Finn nodded.

"What's yer favorite?"

Finn thought for a moment, and then, pulled a scary face, holding his hands over his head.

"Dracula?"

Finn nodded.

"Lucky - my parents don't let me watch that stuff."

"Last I checked, they did, and you chickened out!" Lucy said.

"Hey! I don't air YOUR secrets do I!?" Finn giggled a little when that happened.

"So. Finn. Level with me...why don't you talk much?" Finn thought for a moment - thinking through how to explain it. He looked down at his feet, then back up at Toby. He shrugged.

"You don't know?"

Finn nodded.

"CAN you talk?" Finn nodded in response again, and move to open his mouth, until-

"Ah!"

"Oh, sorry, Mrs. McMurray, i didn't pin you too hard did I?"

"No, no - be careful, though!" Ivy's laugh came through - it was bright. Finn's eyes softened at it a bit - he had been stiff a few moments before, but now, he looked more relaxed.

"Alright, kids, all finished - who's in for ice cream?"

"ALL OF US!"

"Don't shout! Girls have to be careful back there!"

-

The five of them sat outside of an ice cream stand - Ivy was careful to hide herself, wearing a head scarf and a pair of shades - and the 4 children diligently went about eating ice cream.

And, of course, Finn was doing something odd.

Sure, he was eating his ice cream normally. He was sitting normally. He just wasn't...talking. or saying ANYthing. He stared at something across the street - a little bird, pecking at the ground. Sophie looked for a moment, before going back to her ice cream.

"...Aunt Ivy?"

"Yes, Toby?"

"Why is Finn so quiet?"

"He gets it from his father." Ivy said, nodding. "He's definitely his father's child." Toby blinked.

"...Does he ever say anything?"

"He only speaks to his best friends. I'm sure he'll be talking to Sophie by the evening!" Sophie was circling around Finn, and trying hard to play one handed rock paper scissors while she viciously attacked her cone.

"Sorry today wasn't as exciting as I thought - I figured we'd get to go on set today."

"We're gonna go on set!?" Lucy asked, a bright hope in her eye.

"Absolutely - but you have to be very careful on a movie set." Ivy said. "It's dangerous!"

"I can be careful! I dunno about Sophie though..." Sophie was trying to climb a fence. "Soph! Get down from there!"

"Okay!" She bounded down, and hit the ground hard. She simply looked down at herself, brushed her dress off, and ran back over.

Finn walked over to his mother, and looked up. He tugged her dress a little, and spoke softly, for the first time anyone had heard. all day.

"...dad?"

"...oh! Goodness - we ought to run back home and check on him, make sure he's alright." With that, the gang piled into the car, and got home.

-

Dinner had gone just fine. Mom and dad had come home from that awfully long set of meetings, and they looked...happy. Food was good, on account of Uncle Cal, and now the kids were getting ready to go to sleep. They were all crowded into the spare room. Uncle Cal walked in, and smiled.

"Night, all."

"Can you sing us a song?"

"Hmm?"

"Yeah! Mama always sings us songs in port...porter...porterhouse-"

"Portuguese?" Calvin finished the word for Sophie.

"Yeah!"

"I don't speak any Portuguese..." Calvin said. "I speak Irish, though."

"Is that why you talk funny?" Lucy asked.

Calvin chuckled. "Aye, that'd do it, I think." He said. "I used to sing an awful lot better before all this tail business."

"Yeah, what's with yer tail?" Toby finally asked. Finn, at the mention of it, leapt out of the bed, and into his dad's arms, and whispered something to him.

"My tail is sick, and it's making me sick. We hope it'll stop, but we'll see." He nodded, and kissed Finn's forehead, letting him back down. "Now, lullaby, right?"

"Please?" Lucy asked.

Without missing much time, Calvin started singing in a language they didn't understand. "Dún do Shúil, a rún mo chroí, A chuid den tsaol, 's a ghrá liom..."

As he sang, Finn nestled into his bed, and went to sleep. Sophie followed suit. Lucy was next...Toby was still a little awake. He yawned, and spoke.

"Lucy says you're gonna die...is that true?"

"We all do, someday." Calvin said.

"But soon?"

"...It'll all be good memories." He said, smiling. "Sleep well, Tobias."

"Goodnight."

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #flimflamuniverse #calvin mcmurray #ivy pepper #frepper #rocky rickaby #roari #ari alves

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

A Strange Sort of Family

hi, resident evil fandom, i'd like to throw my hat in the ring

look, i don't even really go here, the fandom mold just got into my brain and would not fucking leave. this is my first time writing any of these characters so if they feel a bit rocky, please forgive me. my media analysis brain has been spinning nonstop since we started the resident evil brain rot and ho boy would I love to sink my teeth into a proper horror fic but! i don't know if i'm there yet so i figured i'd start a bit easier for me :)

also--we all know there's no way ethan's just gone from the franchise now, right? like, sure, he's dead, but he died like 30 minutes into re7 and that didn't fucking stop him

ALSO also big shoutout to @dragonsareaqueerthing and @greenninjagal-blog for the encouragement to actaully make the words go :) hopefully i'll be spending more time in this fandom now that I've got that ball rolling

Read on Ao3

Warnings: talk about events of shadows of rose dlc, nothing explicit, bullying

Pairings: implied ethan/mia/chris, but Ethan & Rose is the focus

Word Count: 10,919

You'd think after about 16 years of being treated like a child and the most powerful bioweapon the world has ever seen, you might get used to it.

Nope!

Not even slightly.

Sometimes a family is a molded bioweapon, a traumatized agent, a former bioterrorist, and a series of golden, sparkly words. Sometimes family is decorating your room with your mother, sometimes family is hugging a pillow because your dad isn't here anymore. Sometimes family is training too hard and going out for ice cream, sometimes family is a dinner where your parents won't stop teasing you.

Or, five times Ethan Winters was there for his daughter, and one time Rosemary Winters was there for her father.

1.

You'd think after about 16 years of being treated like a child and the most powerful bioweapon the world has ever seen, you might get used to it.

Nope!

Not even slightly.

Okay, well, maybe slightly, but only in the way she's able to shake off some of the lesser things that would've made her really upset before. She's no longer threatening the lives of the agents that call her Eveline, to her face or behind her back when they think she can't hear them. Even when she really, really wants to. Small victories.

But despite her best efforts, she still returns to the cell block of a room—Chris had been so insistent that it wasn't a cell, but it was all concrete walls and a tiny window and a camera that she knows is in the corner—and curls up on her bed, jamming her headphones in and refusing to engage with the outside world until she could summon up the resolve to impersonate a normal person again.

Today had been no exception.

Rose throws her backpack onto her desk chair and slings her hat over the hook, kicking her shoes off and collapsing face-first onto the bed with a groan. More tests today, always more fucking tests. Didn't they have every inch of her shitty, moldy body cataloged by now? She has half a mind to start making shit up when they ask her the same stupid questions. 'How are you feeling today, Rose?' Oh, you know, just getting stuck with more needles than a fucking porcupine, how do you fucking think I'm feeling? Yeah, no, no homicidal instincts yet, just had one murderous thought the other day when I was imagining mold eating the bitch who called me a charity case. Although I did go to the park after I snuck away from that asshole you have tailing me on Tuesdays to see if I could amass a mushroom army, how was your day?

A small laugh leaves her throat at the thought of the doctor's face if she actually did say that, but then she'd probably have two assholes tailing her until they deemed her 'no longer a risk.' God, they were supposed to be these super highly trained agents, then why the fuck do they suck ass at being subtle?

Turns out, even having mold superpowers means she still has to breathe like a normal person, so she drags her face up from the bed and doesn't even bother to fully get up to inchworm up to the pillows. She mashes her face against the slightly cold surface—honestly, the best part about this prison-cell-ass room was that the air conditioning was always on Arctic, so her pillows were always cold—and grabs her phone, squinting at the notifications.

One from school saying her group project deadline was coming up…something from some shopping website she'd logged onto out of pure boredom three weeks ago…and a text from Chris.

Rose sits up a little more and opens the text. "Overseas this week…sorry I'll miss the—you fucking dick!"

Of course Chris is working this weekend, of course he's not gonna be fucking here to take her to the cemetery—great, that means another two hours of bus rides until she can actually go see her dad. She swears he does this on purpose sometimes, how often does he actually need to go overseas for 'work?' And it's not like anyone else here would be able to take her, she's learned her fucking lesson about asking them for anything more than more fucking food. Not bothering to stifle her groan, she flops back onto the bed, only for her phone to clatter out of her hand and onto the floor.

Great. Now she has to move again to pick it up.

She decides that moving is actually not what she's going to do right now, letting one arm hang over the edge of the bed, her cheek scrunched awkwardly against the lip of the mattress. She tucks her face against the collar of her jacket and rubs her thumb against the ring on her finger.

"Sorry it's gonna take me longer," she mumbles, "I really wanted to spend longer with you this time."

Her eyes widen when gold sparkling words appear on the floor next to her phone.

it's okay

"What the—" she whips around to look at the door, closed tightly, and jerks back— "how—"

The words are still there. The words are still etched into the floor, right next to her phone. She should check if they're on the camera—no, they can fucking hack into her phone whenever they want, and she doesn't—she can't—if this really is—

Rose swallows the lump in her throat as the words shift and change.

you ok?

"I—what—how are—" she swallows again, camera in the corner of the room, "uh, M-Michael?"

A pause as the words reform: sure

"I mean, I—I know," she says quickly, "I know what—I know what this is, I…I remember, it's just…"

camera, I know

"How is this possible?" she whispers, not daring to move from her haphazard scramble up the bed, "I thought you were—I mean, at the end, when we, uh, did the thing, it seemed like you were…that you were going again."

The words sparkle again as she grips the sleeve of her jacket—his jacket.

apparently i'm bad at it

"Bad at what?"

staying dead

Another laugh chokes its way out of her throat and she reaches out without thinking about it, just to touch the words. They glow a little bit brighter as she touches them and the tips of her fingers glow. Almost as an afterthought, she grabs her phone and shoves it behind her, hopefully muffling the microphone and at the very least, getting its cameras away from her dad.

Her dad. Those are her dad's words, that's her dad, he's here, he's here.

"Are you—is this…are you really here?"

sort of, as the golden words swirl around, part of you

"What do you mean, 'part of me?'"

not a scientist

"You're the only other m—person like me I know, I'm sure it'll be fine." She can almost hear the little huff of laughter as the golden sparkles swirl again. It seems like it's the same as it was when she was in there, with her dad only able to say a few words at a time.

i'm part of the mold, just like you, we're sharing a part right now

"Are you always sharing a part with me?"

i wish i could, and she feels her chest hurt a little bit, takes energy

"I guess that makes sense." Her arm begins to ache from being so stretched out. "I really miss you."

i miss you too sweetie

Fuck, she's 16, she should not be getting this choked up over her dad calling her 'sweetie,' but fuck it, she's a mold person and her dad's dead, she's allowed to sniffle a little when those words glow warmly under her fingers. Some hysterical part of her wonders if he'd be able to give her a tissue or a hanky the way he gave her guns and chem fluid in there, but she scrubs at her nose with her sleeve and decides that it's enough right now that he's here, in her room, still calling her sweetie.

***

2.

She almost recognizes it the second time, a tug in her gut. Given that she's got her hands over her face and is currently doing a fabulous impression of an angry seal, it'd be harder for her to see it. Still, she can't help the dumb smile on her face when she rolls over.

bad day?

"Oh, you know," she mumbles, "just your average day of being a human guinea pig."

ew

She snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle it. "You know I get a look at their notes sometimes? That's what they call you, just your initials."

surprised they're still talking about me

"What do you mean? Of course they're still talking about you, you're the—" she cuts herself off. The golden sparkles swirl.

i'm the what?

"Never mind."

The floorboards wait expectantly, but she twists the ring around her finger, chewing on her lip. After another moment, new words appear.

can i help?

"With what? With the tests?"

with you

Another tug in her gut, this time at the fact that she can't actually remember the last time someone asked after her, not their biggest liability or their most dangerous weapon. She props herself up on the cold pillows—thank you, government AC—and sighs. "I'm just really tired."

i bet

"Like—are they bored? What do they get out of sticking me with the same needle fifty different times? And it's not like they talk to me about anything, they just look at each other and then fake-smile at me and they tell me 'you're doing great,' like I'm supposed to know what that means. And the other people aren't any better! They keep trying to train me how to do a thing but they're not—it's not like they tell me why we're doing something or what I'm supposed to be doing instead, they just tell me I'm wrong and that's it."

that sucks

She huffs. "You have no idea."

After a moment, though, she realizes that might not actually be true. From what little she's actually managed to get Chris to tell her, and what she can learn from Mom, they were both held in BSAA's quarantine for ages before they moved over to Romania. And if Mom knew about Dad's…not-aliveness way before he did, then they must've done some sort of tests on him too.

"Can I ask you something?"

anything

"Did they, um, did they test you too?"

The floorboards stay empty for a minute, but it feels more like he's thinking than it does him avoiding the question. Sure enough, after another moment, words start appearing again.

they did, they didn't tell me anything either, just that i was lucky

"Lucky how?"

to have made it, even when i didn't

"You did, though," she mumbles, fiddling with the ring again, "you—this part of you made it. Chris told me, Mom told me. You…even after you were…gone the first time, you…you came back. The important parts of you, they came back."

and i'm grateful for it, for you

"You're gonna make me cry," she mutters, scrunching up a little tighter.

i love you Rosie

"Shut up." It's empty and they both know it. A few extra sparkles swirl around and she could swear he's laughing. "I love you too."

Sunlight streams in through her tiny window and she finds herself looking at the way the leaves on the tree dapple the shadow across the floor. Part of her dad's words are still glowing. She looks at the nightstand, bare except for her charger and alarm clock, then over at the desk where her school stuff is, then at the dresser. She reaches out and touches the metal bedframe. It's cold underneath her fingers.

what's wrong?

"Nothing." The words remain and she sighs. "I'm just being mopey."

you're allowed to mope

"Someone at school said something today," she says before she can think better of it, and she winces at how young she sounds.

bullies?

"Not really, it wasn't even really about me, I just—it's stupid."

if you're upset it's not stupid

"They were just talking about this thing they got for their room, okay?" Embarrassment makes her curl her fingers into the loose fabric of her jacket. "It's this mirror thing that hooks up to your phone and lets you play music and stuff from there. They were just talking about it and I thought—see, I told you it was stupid."

There's another pause. The breeze rustles the leaves outside. The shadows dance over the walls.

do you want it?

"Not really…I don't like mirrors that much anyway. And it's not like they'd let me just have another thing that connects to the Internet in here." She glances at the alarm clock. "I barely got them to let me get a laptop for school stuff. I don't think they've got a 'Mold Bioweapon Allowance' in their budget."

The silence grows thoughtful. She turns her head to look at the floorboards again, watching the few sparkles there swirl around.

it's your room, they say finally, it should feel like it

Rose scoffs. "What am I supposed to do, walk up and ask them to sponsor a shopping trip?"

why not?

"They're not gonna do that. They're just gonna brush me off again or tell me they're busy."

you've tried?

"I told you, I barely managed to get a laptop, which is something I need to be able to do schoolwork or anything, even have a taste of what being normal is like. And even then I had to argue for like, ages, and I had to get one of my teachers to write an email saying that it's necessary." She swats the white pillowcase, bitterness seeping into her words. "Everything else isn't necessary. They're all about practicality, like I'm just some other expense they have to deal with."

what about Chris? or Mom?

"Chris isn't here. He's always off somewhere doing something or he's here glaring at me like I'm some stupid new recruit that he doesn't want to have to train. And Mom's…I don't want to bother her, you know? She's got her own life now."

she's your mom, come the words almost before she's done speaking, she'd want to know

Rose sighs, sitting up to lean against the headboard. She twists the ring around and around her finger, chewing on her lip. "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like she's…like she doesn't want to know."

Another pause. What her dad had said before, about them sharing a part of the mold—she can feel something in her chest. An emotion that isn't quite hers, something like a deep and exasperated sadness. It's faint, not quite enough to put words there, but she can tell when she needs to look back down at the floor.

she does love you, let her

"Okay. I'll try."

thank you

"Would you come shopping with me?" she asks, even when she knows the answer. "If you could?"

The room gets a little happier as the sparkles swirl around.

i'd spend all day with you

"What did you want to have in your room? When you were my age?"

telescope

"A telescope?" She laughs. "Did you want to be an astronaut?"

astronaut ew

She laughs again and the sunlight seems a little brighter.

***

3.

She meets Mom at a coffee shop near the big bookstore downtown. She's not wearing Dad's jacket—it still feels weird to do, even after Mom's said it's fine—but she has his ring on a necklace under her shirt. Mom waves her over to a table in the corner, nodding to the smoothie already waiting.

"Pineapple mango," she says as Rose sits down, "your favorite."

"Thanks, Mom." She takes a big drink, savoring the weird feeling the pineapple leaves on her tongue. "How're you?"

"I'm okay. Work's been getting busy again recently with the month's end rush." Mom swirls her straw around her coffee. "Did I tell you about this new thing our boss is trying to make us do?"

"No, what?"

"Apparently some young CEO in the area made it big on corporate social media about 'team building exercises,'" and Rose is already groaning in sympathy, "so he sent out this survey this past week about what activity we'd rather do."

"What were the options?"

"This group painting class thing, where we all paint the same picture—"

"Like in kindergarten?"

"Like in kindergarten," Mom agrees, "there's a bar-arcade place that's just opened up on the West Side that does private events, and then there's a good old-fashioned work dinner."

Rose makes a face. "That's it? No, like, crazy obstacle courses, or escape rooms, or anything?"

"We barely had the budget for the normal year-end stuff."

"So what did you vote for?"

"I ended up voting for the painting, actually—"

"What? Mom, that's so lame."

"Hey!" She jokingly flicks a napkin at Rose. "Lamer than the most awkward dinner you can imagine or sitting and drinking for a whole evening?"

"Isn't that what adults do? You sit and drink and talk?"

Mom sighs, shaking her head as they both laugh. "Yeah, well, I figured it might be better if we tried to do something that wasn't just sitting and drinking."

"I guess."

"Besides, I'm still missing something for the bathroom upstairs. Maybe I'll hang up whatever I manage to make there," she adds, winking at Rose.

It's supposed to be a joke at how bad at art she is—really, even Chris looked at her stick figures and struggled to find something nice to say, and Mom just laughed it off—but Rose's smile fades and she shuffles a little in the chair. She drinks more of her smoothie. Dad's words turn over and over in her head.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Mm?"

"Would you…" She fights the urge to reach for the ring. "Would you help me decorate my room?"

Mom's brow furrows. "At my house?"

"N-no, my…my room at the compound. It's stupid, never mind."

"It's not stupid, Rose," Mom says, picking up her coffee, "I'm just—I guess I'm just surprised. Most teens don't really want their parents anywhere near their rooms."

"Yeah, well, forget it."

A car drives by. Despite herself, she reaches for the ring anyway. Something warm pulses in her chest.

"It's just," she manages, "I don't really have anything in there. It's just the military stuff."

Mom's coffee cup hits the table with a thud. "What do you mean you don't have anything in there?"

"I mean, there's just a dresser, a desk, and a bed. And my little side table thing. They didn't really give me any—"

"How much time do you have?"

Rose blinks. "Huh?"

"How much time before you have to get back?" Mom's already getting up and putting the lid back on her coffee. "We're not that far from the big stores and I have my car."

"I, uh, I think I have a few hours, so—" she scrambles up too, reaching to grab Mom's arm— "wait, you're really okay with doing this?"

Mom pauses for a moment, then reaches out and covers Rose's hand with hers. "You're my daughter, Rosie, I'd love to help you decorate your room."

A lump appears in her throat and she swallows it down. "Thank you."

"Come on," Mom grins, "what are you thinking you want?"

"Uh, I was thinking maybe like a whiteboard? That way I could write down stuff that I might forget? Or like—a magnetic one so I could stick stuff to it?" She gets into Mom's car and they start driving. "Or a corkboard—I've seen a lot of people pin like, pictures and stuff to a corkboard on their walls."

"What if you get both? A corkboard to put pictures and cute stuff and then a whiteboard to write on?"

"I also want a lamp. The normal lights just make my head hurt. And they buzz, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about. It's like the world's most annoying crickets, isn't it?"

"And there's no, like, in between! It's either no light at all or—"

"Or my eyes are being scorched out, that's right."

They pull into the parking lot of the store and get out, still bouncing ideas back and forth. Mom grabs a cart and they head straight for the stationary section and they spend about five minutes talking about the different corkboards and whiteboards. Then Rose decides she wants magnets so she can stick stuff to the whiteboard, then Mom spots a cute set of push pins, and then another mom and daughter walk by with one of those fancy photo printers that print out pictures from your phone like Polaroids, and they just have to get Rose one of those.

As they pick out lamps and wall decor and sheets that actually have some color, she's struck by how normal this is. She's with her mom. They're shopping for stuff for her room. They're freaking out over the pillows that have little penguins on them. She's actually smiling and laughing and she's excited. She can't wait to get back and put all this stuff in her room.

She just…wishes Dad could be here too.

"I think I'd prefer the yellow lampshade, but it's up to you." Mom looks up from the shelf to notice she's gone quiet. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing," she says quickly, wiping surreptitiously at her face, "…just…I kinda wish Dad was here too."

Mom's fingers stutter on the box and for a moment, she thinks she's going to see those walls go up again, the ones that always go up when she tries to talk about Dad, but then Mom puts the box down and rubs at her wedding ring. She still wears it sometimes. Rose reaches for Dad's, under her shirt.

"I wish he was here too, Rosie," Mom says quietly, "he'd be so proud of you."

Rose swallows, and her eyes catch on a tiny monkey LED lamp further down the shelf. She picks it up. "I think he'd vote for this one, don't you?"

A hint of fond exasperation comes to Mom's face. "God, did I ever tell you what happened when he found out that you loved that little monkey you got when you were still a baby? He tried to buy everything monkey-themed he could find because he thought you might like it."

"Wait, really?"

"I had to get Chris to help me talk him out of buying an entire monkey crib for you."

Rose puts the monkey lamp in the cart. Mom smiles and they keep walking. They end up spending way more than she thought they'd be and sheepishly tries to put some stuff back, but Mom won't hear a word of it and bags everything up.

"Chris can help cover the cost if he's so worried about it," she declares as they pull back up to the meeting spot where the car is supposed to take Rose back to the compound, "anyway, all of this should have been done years ago."

"Thanks, Mom," Rose says, "I had fun."

"We should definitely do it again. I'll help you decorate your college dorm too."

Rose smiles and gets out of the car. It fades a bit when she sees Paul again, leaning against the side of the van with his arms crossed. She turns her back deliberately on him and goes to help Mom get all the bags out of the trunk.

"You're late," Paul says, like he has any right to sound like a smug, condescending asshole.

"By like five minutes. Open the trunk."

"What's all that?"

"Stuff. For my room."

"Well, I—hey!" Paul finally moves when Mom just opens the trunk and starts putting the bags inside.

"You must be the agent Rose told me about," Mom says, her voice saccharine as she dusts off her hands, "is that right, honey?"

"Yeah," she mumbles, "that's him."

"Paul," he says, "Ms. Winters."

"Mia." Mom holds out her hand and he takes it, Rose peering at them from under the brim of her hat. Her eyes widen when Mom yanks Paul closer to her, her smile fading as she hisses in his ear. "Call my daughter Eveline again and I'll break your nose, are we clear?"

Paul jerks in surprise, before turning his head slightly. "Stand down, it's fine, I can handle it."

"You can't afford to make a scene in such a public place," Mom says, her voice still perfectly even, "and Chris won't risk harming me or Rose. So you can start treating my daughter like a person or I can break your nose right now and Chris can clean up your mess."

Rose can't stop her snort as Paul sheepishly walks back to the front of the car and gets in. Mom watches him go before she turns around and says, loud enough for him to hear, "Make sure you send me pictures when you get it the way you want it, okay?"

"I will."

"And if you decide you want anything else, we'll get it next time."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, Rosie." She glares once more in Paul's direction before she walks back to her car.

Rose doesn't stop smirking as Paul drives them back to the compound. He slinks off with his tail between his legs after helping her get all her stuff into her room. She can't cover up the camera—and let them know she knows about it—but she can play her music out loud as she decorates, hanging up the little plants they found and pinning a few photos to her new corkboard. It still strikes her how normal all of this is, dancing to her music and putting up all of her new things, finally collapsing onto her now-colorful blankets with a laugh.

She texts a few photos to Mom, who responds with gushing reviews and excited emojis, before she rolls onto her side to look at the floor.

"What do you think?"

The words only take a second to appear.

it's beautiful, sweetie

"You were right," she murmurs, "it was really nice to let Mom take care of me a bit."

i'm glad

"Oh! I forgot to show you the best part!" Rose jumps off the bed and goes over to the far wall, switching on the fairy lights she hung from the ceiling amidst a bunch of fake vines. "Now the camera will just think the glowing is from the lights!"

Golden sparkles swirl beneath the soft glow.

you're so smart

"I mean," she blusters, trying not to show how pleased she is, "I was just tired of lying down to talk to you all the time."

i see, still clever

"Thanks." After a moment, she reaches over and picks up the little monkey lamp and her stuffed monkey, safely hidden beneath her pillows. "Mom told me you wanted to buy a monkey crib for me."

it would go with the onesie

"You got me a monkey onesie?"

mom has pictures

"I'll have to ask her next time." She chews on her lip, running her fingers over the seams of the monkey's ear. "I wish you could've been there."

me too

"Mom threatened to break Paul's nose if he was rude to me again." The light swirls as Dad laughs and she laughs too. "I'd kick him in the nuts too."

that's my girl

***

4.

"Stupid fucking dickhead," she spits as she slams the door, throwing her backpack onto the chair so hard it scrapes across the floor. "Fucking asshole! I'll fucking rip his head off, the fucking bastard!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a tiny sparkle from the floorboards, and she stomps over to the lights, turning them on. Almost immediately, golden words swirl up.

what happened?

"Your buddy Chris fucking happened!" Rose throws herself onto the bed and punches the pillow. "He keeps treating me like I'm some—some fucking gun that only he knows how to fire and I'm fucking sick of it!"

It had been especially bad today, too. Chris apparently woke up and decided yeah, today's the day I'm gonna be a total fucking asshole for no goddamn reason. He started them out sparring, which he never does, he always has them warm up first because it's important not to strain yourself, except apparently not today when she was thrown against the fucking ground three times before she could even open her mouth long enough to say hi.

Or maybe ask what the hell crawled up his ass that morning.

And then he kept fucking looking at her like he was disappointed! Like it was her fault she wasn't expecting to be slammed up against the wall or pinned to the ground by a man fucking three times her size and then grunted at when she winced in pain because that fucking hurt, you asshole! And he kept on saying these stupid little comments that just made her angrier and angrier and then he had the gall to be like hey, you need to get a handle on your emotions like he wasn't pushing every single fucking button he knew she had!

You need to be sharper, he'd said like he had any right to try and be reasonable as he almost dislocated her fucking shoulder, emotions make you sloppy.

Yeah, well, he could try being sharper when he was being bullied for no fucking reason.

And when she'd finally screamed at him that she was done, that she didn't want to fucking do this anymore, he had the fucking audacity, the nerve to scoff and cross his arms and tell her that no, she wasn't done, she was only done when he said she was done. And yeah, she hadn't really made the decision to rush at him after that, her body did that on its own, but he literally just tossed her aside like a fucking doll and then said she wasn't leaving until she could do the fucking stupid thing he wanted her to.

She tried. She really fucking did.

But she couldn't do it.

And Chris kept refusing to help, saying he'd been training her for so long already, that he'd wash her out if she were any other recruit—to which she'd screamed that she wasn't, so why the fuck was he being like this? And he didn't fucking answer! He just told her to try it again and he kept making her angrier and angrier and she could tell Chris was getting angry too which just made hers worse because what fucking right did he have to be mad at her? What the fuck did she do to him?

It ended really badly. She'd gotten so mad she'd thrown herself at him again, not caring about proper technique or what was smart or anything, she just went for him. He grappled her, obviously, and that was supposed to be their tap-out, fight's-over thing, but she hadn't stopped. She'd scratched him and punched him and kicked him even when he growled at her to yield, and when that didn't work, she'd bit him.

Chris fucking wrenched her off of him and threw her across the room and she heard three guns click.

They'd glared at each other, Chris holding his arm like it was a fucking biohazard, and then he'd stalked off without a word while agents forcibly shoved her back to her room.

She's panting by the time she finishes, glaring a hole in the wall right below where the words normally appear. Her hands still tingle from where she'd hit the walls and the pillows. She looks up when she sees the familiar swirl.

you shouldn't have bitten him

The anger surges up her arms and she clenches her fists. "That's all you have to say? No 'I'm sorry he was such a dick, Rose?' 'You didn't deserve that?' You're fucking defending him?"

i didn't say that

"I just told you that your friend, the person you told to watch over me and keep me safe was fucking bullying me for no goddamn reason and the only thing you can say is that I shouldn't have defended myself?" Betrayal steeps vehemence into her words. Her nails bite into her palms. "I'm fucking glad I bit him!"

he's trying to help

"How in the fuck is he trying to help," she cries, "by being as bad as the bullies in school? By treating me like a freak that needs to be kept muzzled and on a leash?"

you did bite him

She picks up one of the pillows and hurls it at the wall. It hits with a pathetic thwap and falls limply to the floor. It only makes her angrier when she sees the words calm down when the lights stop shaking.

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! You're supposed to be on my side!"

i am

She barks out a humorless laugh and picks up the pillow, throwing it back on the bed. "You're not on my side, you're on his. I don't need you lecturing me too. Just leave me alone."

More golden words swirl as she turns away, throwing herself onto the bed and curling up tightly around her stuffed monkey. She chokes around the lump in her throat and wills herself not to cry. She'd almost cried in front of Chris today already, she won't give either of them the satisfaction of seeing her cry now. She won't, she won't, she won't! It's not fucking fair that Chris did that. It's not fucking fair that he gets to act however the fuck he wants and then she's the only one punished for it. He gets to go all over the fucking world and only see her when it's convenient to him and he gets to be an asshole about it.

Dad's not even alive.

A sob chokes out before she can stop it, and then it's too late. She's blubbering like she's a stupid fucking baby again and she can hear the echoes of their voices in her ears. All alone, poor freak Rose, crying like a baby who doesn't get her way. She's so weird, she's so stupid, she can't do it. She's useless, she's not strong enough. Just go away. No one wants you here. No one wants you. No matter how hard she presses her hands to her ears, they won't fucking shut up!

Maybe she should've fucking kept the purifying crystal. Maybe she should've left with no powers and had a normal fucking life. Maybe she should've just left her dad to—

As soon as the thought threatens to cross her mind, she recoils from it. Guilt and anger war in her gut as she nearly grows sick. How could she fucking think that? After all he'd done to save her, protect her, how could she think about something like that, even if it was in a fit of rage?

A strangled noise escapes her throat and the bruises and injuries from her humiliating 'sparring session' abruptly make themselves known. Her body screams in pain; her shoulders ache, the bruise on her ribs throbs, and her jaw feels like it's about to explode. She has the hysterical impulse to bite herself and she wonders if it would hurt more than everything else. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpses a glow coming from the floorboards now and she curls up tighter, burying her face in the monkey's tummy. Fuck it, she's been called overly emotional and childish enough times already, she may as well throw her tantrum properly.

It's like falling into the Megamycete again; she has no idea how long she lies there, wallowing in her own emotional turmoil. Flashes of the bullies, of Chris's stupid fucking face, of watching herself get tossed around and left behind…even stranger things like massive castles filled with screams and horror, creepy old houses that just feel like tombs, deep water and clanking metal, all filled with whispers of freak, dangerous, stupid child, not good enough. Everything is too loud and too quiet and she just wants it to be over.

When she finally manages to rouse herself from whatever malaise she'd fallen into, the sun has long set. Her clock shows that it's close to 10—that would explain why her stomach is trying to dig a hole in her intestines. The anger fled unknown hours ago, leaving her weary and wrung out. In its absence, she no longer feels like the bioweapon that she's supposed to be, only the scared and lonely child. It's cold. She's hungry.

There's still a soft golden glow coming from over the side of the bed.

Her lip wobbles. She doesn't want to face the consequences of yelling at her dad and throwing a pillow at him, but she can't stop the blooming warmth that he didn't leave. She crawls to the edge of the bed and peeks over.

i'm sorry Rose

She sniffles and rubs her cheek on the sheets. "'M sorry too."

you were right, i should've been on your side

"You're always on my side," she mumbles, "I know you are."

still

She sniffles again and tucks the monkey under her chin. "Why was Chris so mean today? Did I do something wrong?"

i don't think so, sometimes he's just like that

"Why?" She's ignoring how much she sounds like a baby, thank you. "It's not fair."

no it's not sweetie

Rose closes her eyes, basking in the soft glow of her dad's comfort. "Was he ever mean to you when you were training?"

yeah

"What did you do?"

broke his nose once

It startles a laugh out of her. "You what? Wait, what happened?"

he was being an asshole, so i punched him

She giggles again, both at the image of Chris's surprised face with a broken nose and at the fact that her dad got so angry with Chris that he punched him hard enough. A few more golden sparkles surround the words before they change again.

you shouldn't try it though

"Aw," she complains, mostly for show, "but you did it."

do as i say not as i do

She's quiet. After a moment, she lets her arm hang down to touch the words again. They glow gently. "I don't like fighting with you."

me neither

"I'm sorry. I was being a brat."

The words swirl up quicker than she's ever seen.

you were upset at something unfair, not a being a brat

She sniffles again, reaching over to grab a hanky and blow her nose with a sharp honk. She throws it over to the laundry basket and lies back down. The words have changed.

if you need to hear it, i forgive you

"I forgive you too."

rest

She nestles up against the pillows. "Will you stay until I go to sleep?"

of course sweetie, i love you

***

5.

Mostly Rose doesn't dream. She'll close her eyes and open them again and it will be hours later and it's time to get up. Most of the time when she does dream, it's weird half-memories that aren't hers mixed with something she does actually remember. She has dreams of a house with a red chimney being taken apart by little robotic goats, or of a crocodile swimming through a swamp filled with dead crows, or of bugs crawling over test tubes and dirty flasks. Some of them make sense when she digs into the files she's not really supposed to have access to, some of them don't.

On rare, awful occasions, she has nightmares.

She's been curled up and unmoving for who knows how long, desperately trying to feign sleep. The mold in her keeps prickling like there's something else in the room, watching her, just waiting for a sign that she's awake to pounce. Her white-knuckled grip hasn't wavered either. She dares hardly breathe; even though her rational brain knows there's nothing there, there can't be anything there, her entire body is screaming. She can feel the milky sweat beginning to ooze from her palms.

Something creaks.

She goes stiff as a board.

A creak, a groan, a rumble as the air conditioning turns on and she forces herself to relax, cracking open one eye to see that yes, this is just her room, there's nothing to be afraid of here, she's fine.

Her eyes land on the switch to the fairy lights.

The small and whimpering part of her lunges for them, for the warm glow of the light, her dad's words, in lieu of running to her parents' bed to be comforted. The other part hisses that the second she moves, whatever's lurking in the dark will strike. The monkey wheezes as she tightens her grip, staring at the innocuous plastic box hanging against the wall.

With a sudden burst, she launches herself from the bed, slapping the button, and curling back up beneath the safety of the blankets.

Immediately, the soft warm light chases away the worst of the shadows and she can peek over her shoulder to assure herself that yes, nothing is there, she's safe in her room, everything's okay. Golden sparkles are already swirling, a quiet inquisitiveness filling that one empty part in her chest as she lies back down. He's rotated his words so she can read them easily.

what's the matter, sweetie?

"Nightmare," she whispers, more into her pillow than anything else.

i'm sorry

She curls up tighter, trying to pull the blankets up almost over her head. The sweat's almost ruined her monkey—she's going to have to wash it again—and she wipes her hands on the sheet. The absence of it hits the cold air and she shivers, hunching tighter in the covers and sniffling. A sudden and sharp ache sears through her chest and she shudders, harder this time, only the top of her nose peeking out over the comforter. She's so cold. Not in the way where she can pile more blankets on and it'll go away—she could put the whole world on top of her and she would still be cold. This horrible, achy, exhausting cold that seeps into her bones and makes her want to cry.

what can i do?

"You said in your—in your letter," she hiccups, "that you'd hold me when I had nightmares, and—and sing to me until I went back to sleep."

But the words on her wall are just words and words can't hold anybody.

She wants a fucking hug, goddamnit. No one touches her anymore, not unless they're running some stupid test, or sparring, or escorting her roughly down the hallway like some—some prisoner. The last time someone touched her and it wasn't that it was Mom, telling her she'd help decorate her room and that was so long ago, everyone else just—just—

"I want to go home," she sobs and it lands like a dead weight in the still room.

what do you mean?

"I want to go home, I want to go back to that house you showed—showed me when I was in there, where you—where your memories are and I can actually h-hear you and it's warm an'—an' safe, and you love me," she cries, not caring that it's the middle of the night and she's talking to a wall, "no one here loves me. No one loves me, the doctors think I'm some—some experiment that's run too—too long and the agents all think I'm a l-liability and Mom's not here because she gave me up and Chris h-hates me."

he doesn't hate you sweetie

"He does! He does, he does, I can feel it." She hugs her monkey tightly to her chest. "He h-hates me for being the reason you're not—you're not here anymore and he hates me for reminding him that you're dead and he hates me for—for being like this and—and—and—!"

shh…shh…shh…

But he's not here and she can't hear him shushing her and she's all alone in her cold, dark room and she wants to go home.

don't cry, Rosie, it's gonna be okay sweetie

"It's not. 'S not okay."

The wall doesn't move for a moment, then it swirls again.

scoot back, i'm going to try something

Frowning, she does, shuffling awkwardly back until she's on the far side of the bed. The golden light swirls around for another second, before it writes itself on one of the pillows.

hug me

"D—Michael?"

i'm right here sweetie, i love you so much

With trembling fingers, she reaches for the pillow, touching the words with a soft gasp as they glow warmly against her still-slick palms. A sob of disbelief leaves her throat and she bundles it to her chest, burying her face in it. A soft scratching and buzzing fills her ears as more words write themselves across the pillow, but she doesn't pull her face away to read them. Not when this is the closest thing to hugging her dad she's been since she was in the deepest stratum of the Megamycete, crying over his dying body. Not when she's still so cold and the words are so, so warm. She tucks her face into the crook of the pillow's embrace and she cries.

The words don't stop writing themselves over and over and if she focuses hard enough, it almost sounds like her dad is humming.

She falls into a light sleep, not willing to miss a moment of actually being so close to her dad, soothed by his presence. Soon, light has begun to break through the window, the auto timer on the lights long since activated to switch them off. The pillow is all gross from a mixture of drool, snot, and tears, and she sheepishly tries to wipe it away when a small glow comes from underneath.

it's okay

"It's kinda gross."

my privilege, i'm your dad

"Still."

ew, remember?

A watery smile. "Thanks."

i love you so much, i'm so proud of you

"I love you too," she mumbles back, curling her arms around the pillow. Another set of words writes itself and she leans back.

do you really think Chris hates you?

"I don't know. He…he looks at me like he can't sometimes. Or like he's waiting for me to…I don't know, turn crazy or bad or like he's waiting for me to turn into you, almost." She rubs her fingers over the pillowcase. "He used to be nicer."

have you spoken since?

She doesn't need to ask what he's talking about. "No. He's been out of town again. He's supposed to be back, um…"

She leans over to check her phone, eyes widening when she sees the date.

"Uh, today. Shit, I actually think we're supposed to have a training thing today."

Before more words can write themselves, there's a knock on her door. She freezes, phone still in her hand, pillow clutched close.

"Rose?" Fuck. "It's Chris. Can I come in?"

be brave, says the last flutter of words before her dad vanishes, i love you

"…yeah."

Chris opens the door. Rose tugs on her dad's jacket over her pajamas and clutches the pillow in her lap. She doesn't look at him. He moves around a little in the doorway before he shuts it with a click. After a moment, the bed dips and groans under his weight and she sneaks a glance at his arm. Her bite mark is still there.

"Surprised they let you walk around before that healed."

"You didn't even break the skin."

It's probably meant to come off in a way that means she doesn't have to worry about it, but it stings anyway. She turns away again.

A car drives by outside.

"I owe you an apology," Chris says finally, his voice low and gruff, "I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry."

She doesn't reply, but she shifts to face the window instead of the wall.

"There's been talk of getting you moved to another squad," he continues, and her stomach drops—is Chris leaving too?— "and I thought…if I could prove that you were good with us, that we had it all under control, then they'd drop it. Leave you alone."

At the rustle as he shifts, she glances over at him. His jaw works and his hand twitches on his knee.

"I thought…" He trails off, then scoffs at himself, shaking his head. "I don't know what I thought."

He turns to meet her gaze and her gut clenches at the obvious guilt and remorse she can see there. She swallows.

"You were mean." Her voice comes out a lot smaller than she'd hoped. She swallows and tries again. "I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you, Rose," he says in a rush, turning to face her, "please don't think that."

"So you're not trying to get rid of me?"

"Shit, Rose, no, I'm not trying to get rid of you. You're—I think Mia'd kill me if I tried, no, I'm just—" he takes a breath— "I'm just trying to keep you safe, okay?"

"Then you should've said something! I would've trained harder if I knew—we could've—I would've done something else, did I do something wrong?"

"No," he insists, shaking his head, "no, you didn't do anything wrong."

Relief begins to pool warily in her chest. Her grip on the pillow loosens and she scoots a little closer. "I'm sorry I bit you."

He shakes his head again. "It's fine. You, uh, you have good bite strength."

"Good bite strength?"

"Yeah. Your contact's really good." He gestures to the bite mark on his arm. "Got all of them in there too."

"Thanks," she says, laughing a little. Chris smiles and it's a bit easier to breathe. She gives herself a shake. "So, what's today? Weapons, sparring, how to punch boulders?"

"Actually, I, uh, thought we'd go get ice cream."

Rose pauses, looking up at him, blinking as if she'd heard wrong. "Ice cream?"

"Weather's gonna get cold soon, the good place around the corner's gonna close." He shrugs. "Been craving it."

"Yeah…yeah, ice cream sounds good."

"Great."

And before she can think too much of it, she throws herself at him and hugs him for all she's worth. She feels him stutter, not quite sure what to do, and then his arms slowly wrap around her, holding her just as tightly. And oh, she's on fire, Chris is big and warm and solid and he's holding her like she's something special and she's gonna fucking cry her eyes out if she stays here a moment longer and she's gonna die if she lets go. Chris lets out a noise of dismay when she sniffles and scoops her up, like she's a little kid again, holding her in his lap and now she's making a mess of his shoulder too.

She could swear she feels Dad smile.

***

+1.

"I'm telling you," Rose says as she lounges on her bed, "you're wrong about the cover. It's actually pretty good."

i like the classics

"Yeah, well, you're old and boring, so that makes sense."

:(

The sight of the old-fashioned emoticon frowny face makes her burst out laughing. "Oh my god, that's so lame. I don't think I've seen someone use that in years."

it's a classic!

"You gotta get with the times!"

totes dope fam

Rose winces at the immense amount of psychic damage those three words dealt, her neck protesting as she almost cringes it out of alignment. "No, D—Michael, just no."

lol

She tosses the pillow playfully at the wall again, laughing when another frowny face appears on both it and the wall. "Aww, okay, I'm sorry, here."

She picks it up and cuddles it and the frowny face turns to a smiley face. Lying back down, grin still on her face, she toys with his ring. It's gotten shinier from all the rubbing, except where she ties the cord around it so she can wear it as a necklace. She turns it this way and that, watching the sunlight glint off of it. As she does, she catches sight of the engraving on the inside.

Always and forever.

"Do you want me to tell Mom and Chris about you?"

The words swirl for a moment.

up to you

She pushes herself to sit up, propped on one elbow. The ring glistens as she slides it back onto her finger, turning it to and fro. "I don't know. It feels bad keeping something like this from them, but I want to be selfish about it too, you know? I kind of like having you all to myself."

it's not selfish

"And what if Chris thinks it's bad?" She twists the ring harder. "What if he tries to take you away from me?"

i won't let that happen

Her shoulders drop a little and she picks up the pillow again, cuddling into it. A few words write themselves across it just so she can feel their warmth and she rubs her cheek against it. "Don't you miss them?"

all the time

A melancholy that isn't hers hangs in her chest and she squeezes the pillow again. "Then should I? They miss you too, you know. I think they'd be happy to, you know, hear from you again."

The words fade and the wall glows again as he thinks. She lets him have his time, rubbing the ring back and forth, listening to the slight rattle it makes as it spins around her too-small finger. When she hears the familiar soft scratch again, she looks up.

they're happy now, i don't want to ruin that

"They're not happy," she can't help but say, "they still miss you."

content, then

"You wouldn't be ruining anything," she argues, "I thought—I thought I'd never get to see you again after I got out of there. The day I heard you again? That was the happiest moment of my life."

mine too sweetie, or my un-life i guess

The words glow brighter as her fingertips glow too. She gets up and lays her hand against the wall, smiling as their powers dance together. "I really think they'd be happy."

A pulse of warmth runs up her arm to her chest as the words shift once more.

when you think the time is right

"I'll tell you, I promise."

i'm so proud of you, Rose, i love you so much

"I love you too."

That time doesn't come on their terms, though, because that would be easy. No, instead it's when she and Chris are over at Mom's house for dinner and Chris asks a question out of nowhere that almost makes her spit all over the table.

"What?" Mom asks as Rose glares a hole in Chris's stupid forehead.

"I said," Chris says like an unrepentant asshole, "who's Michael?"

"Michael?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rose mutters, staring down at her lap.

"I was coming to get you for training last week and you were talking to someone called Michael." Chris takes a bite of steak and talks with his mouth full, like an asshole. "So who is he?"

Mom elbows her, winking. "Someone you like?"

"What? Ew, gross, no!"

Chris and Mom just laugh and Mom elbows her again. "Don't worry, I was your age once too. That's how I reacted when my mom asked me about my crush."

"Michael isn't my crush!"

"Boyfriend, then?"

"No, he's not my—" she covers her face and sighs. "He's not my boyfriend, he's not my crush, he's not someone from school, happy?"

"So who is he?"

Well, fuck it, no time like the present. She pushes back from the table, muttering about using the bathroom. They wait until she's halfway up the stairs to start talking again, their voices low in that way where she knows they're still talking about her, but she pays them no mind as she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. She braces her hands on either side of the sink and takes a deep breath.

"I'm guessing you heard all that."

The words swirl up right below the mirror.

yeah

"I mean, it's not like we'll get a better opportunity."

probably not

"Are you ready?"

are you?

She rubs at the chip in the linoleum and turns on the cold water, just to make sure there's no milky sweat on her hands. "I'm nervous."

me too

"No matter what happens," she says firmly, "no matter what they do or say, I'm here for you, okay? I've got your back. I love you."

i'm so proud of you, sweetie, i love you too

The words glow cheerfully against the weird tile pattern and she reaches out to touch them. They share a moment before the words fade and she takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders in the mirror and nodding to herself. "Right. Let's do this."

She marches back downstairs and Mom and Chris do a horrible job of pretending not to be nosy and expectant. She sits back down and folds her hands in her lap.

"I'll tell you who Michael is," she begins, "but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

"I promise, honey," Mom says, miming zipping her lips shut.

"Chris, you promise too."

Chris looks at her for a moment like he's going to disagree, then he winces as Mom kicks him under the table. "I promise too."

"Good." She takes another breath and reaches for the ring around her neck. The second she brings it out from under her shirt, Chris's silverware clatters against the plate and Mom inhales sharply.

"Rose," she says shakily, "where did you get that?"

"Before I said yes to joining you," Rose says, "I met K outside the lab. He told me there might be a way to get rid of my powers for good."

Chris frowns. "K never said anything like that to me, what do you—"

"I'm getting there. He took me to the lab where there was a piece of the Megamycete, and said that—"

"He what?"

"Will you both just listen to me?" The two of them quiet down. "Thank you. So, like I was saying, he took me to see the piece of it and said that there was a purifying crystal that Miranda discovered that could take the mold out of someone. All I had to do was look through the Megamycete's index of consciousness to see if I could find it."

"That's incredibly dangerous, Rose," Mom says quietly, and Chris looks like he's trying to strangle his fork. "Please tell me you didn't—"

"I wanted them gone," she interrupts, looking at her Mom, "they were—I was just a freak with no friends. Someone offered me the chance to be normal, are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same thing if you were a teenager?"

Mom looks at her for a long moment, but she doesn't disagree. Rose squeezes the ring and keeps going.

"It wasn't that easy, obviously. It was…really hard. And really scary. I had to fight my way through these, like, twisted versions of the places in Miranda's village, like that big castle and the creepy doll house, and there were all these versions of me that kept getting killed and tortured, I fought a version of Eveline too—"

"Rose," Chris tries to say but she doesn't let him.

"—but I had help," she continues. "There was something helping me. It helped me figure out where to go, what to do, gave me a gun and taught me how to use it. There were these glowing words that would appear when I needed them most and it…it was like having a guardian angel."

"Michael," Chris says, and she nods.

"Yeah, I called him Michael. He—he kept trying to get me to leave, said that it wasn't safe, but I wanted to find the crystal and so he helped me. And then we found out K wasn't actually K and it was all a trap set by Miranda—"

"It was what?"

Chris is already getting up. "Is she still in there? Do we need to—"

"Sit down, Chris, it's fine, we beat her. She's dead now, like, really, actually dead. She crystalized and turned to dust, I saw it."

His face still looks like he ate a lemon, but Chris sits slowly back down. He exchanges a worried look with Mom and she puts her hand on Rose's shoulder. "You said 'we?'"

"Me and Michael." She looks down at the ring and turns it over in her hand. "Until I found out who he really was."

Mom gasps, a small and shuddery thing. She holds her hand over her mouth and stares at Rose. "Ethan."

Chris makes a noise too as Rose nods. "Yeah. It was him the whole time. He…he protected me. From Miranda, from Eveline, from everything."

"He loved you so much, honey," Mom whispers, her eyes growing wet, "he never stopped loving you."

"He showed me our house in Romania," and to her horror, she can feel her voice growing thick too, "with all his memories. I heard his voice, Mom, he—he wrote me a letter, did you know?"

"Yes," Mom says, trying not to sob, clutching her shoulder, "yeah, honey, I know. He cried so much while he was writing it, he wanted you to get old enough to read it with him, oh, Rose…"

She swipes a hand under her nose and turns to Chris, who's doing that big, tough, I'm-too-manly-for-my-emotions-right-now thing and reaches for him too. After a moment, his hand turns and covers hers. He's trembling. "He taught me how to fight, Chris. We—we fought together. He shot the monsters in the face with a shotgun and gave me his power so I could kill Miranda, once and for all."

Chris swallows heavily. "Your dad was…he was one of the best men I've ever known, Rosie. He would be so proud of you." He sniffs. "You said he shot them in the face with a shotgun?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah, that sounds like Ethan, alright." Mom laughs and it sort of sounds like a sob but she and Chris are smiling now, so it's okay. Chris looks back at her and nods a few times. "So you were talking to him, then?"

"Yeah. When you walked by on Tuesday, I think it was…yeah, we were arguing about whether the original Blade Runner was better than 2049." She wrinkles her nose. "He said the original was better but I like the remake."

Chris frowns. "What do you mean, he said—"

The words scrawl over Mom's dining table, illuminating their faces.

i like the classics, that's all

Rose would laugh at the way Chris almost falls out of his chair if his hand and Mom's weren't trembling. She looks at Mom, who stares at the glowing words, and at Chris, who looks like he's about to be sick.

Mom breaks the silence first. "…Ethan?"

The words move, now right next to her forgotten plate.

hi honey

"You're—you're—"

bad at staying dead?

Mom's breath leaves her like she's been punched in the gut. "Oh, Ethan, I—I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry—"

breathe, it's okay

She squeezes Mom's hand as she takes a few shaky breaths. "What—how is this possible?"

rose

"We're both part of the mold," Rose says when Mom looks to her, "he's…he's using my part right now, we're sort of sharing it."

told her i'm not a scientist, figured you'd get it :)

"No one uses those anymore," Mom mumbles and Rose whispers a quiet told you so! as the smiley turns to a frowny for a moment, before the words change again.

i know it's been hard, i'll always love you

"Oh, Ethan," Mom whispers, reaching out to touch the words. She gasps as a flicker of warmth pulses through them and Rose squeezes her hand again. "I miss you."

i miss you too

Another glow flickers up next to Chris, who startles and stares down at the words in shock.

you too

"E-Ethan, I—" he cuts himself off as the words swirl again.

thank you for taking care of my daughter

Chris swallows heavily. "She's incredible, Ethan. You should be proud of her."

always am

"I'm sorry," Chris whispers, and something in Rose's gut clenches at how close to tears he looks too, "if I'd been faster, we could've gotten you out of there, we could've…"

it's okay, Chris, we're all okay

"You're dead."

i died in 2017, doing pretty well considering

"He is really bad at staying dead," Rose adds, "Miranda said so too. You should've seen her, she was so mad at us."

Chris looks like he's having a hard time deciding whether he wants to laugh or cry. The sparkles swirl again.

she's a fighter, she gets that from you too

His free hand jerks and Rose squeezes the one in hers. "You can touch, Chris, he won't bite. That's my thing."

it won't hurt, promise

Chris takes a deep breath and slowly touches the words. His breath leaves him in a rush as they glow warmly under his fingers. Rose smiles as she feels the mold connect all of them there, in that moment, through her and Ethan. Some part of her clicks into place. As if he can feel it too, which he probably can, another set of words appears in front of her.

we're so proud of you, Rosie

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles as she feels heat rush to her cheeks, "shut up."

no :)

Mom laughs. "We finally have all three of us together again and you want us to not tell you how proud we are of you?"

"They've got a point, Rosie."

"I'll break your nose!"

"No, no," Mom says as Chris squawks, even though she's still smiling, "no breaking Chris's nose."

even if he deserves it

"Hey!"

As they all laugh together, Ethan's words still glowing in the warm, quiet house, Rose sits back in her chair and twists her dad's ring around her finger. Sure, being a mold bioweapon teenager was weird, but if this is the family she gets to have because of it, it can't be all bad.

#dragonbabbles #fic #resident evil #resident evil 7 #resident evil 8 #resident evil biohazard #resident evil village #resident evil shadows of rose #rosemary winters #ethan winters #mia winters #chris redfield

[manicpixiedckgirl]

okay, so i posted a timeline. sue me! i quit all other social media last year and needed that dopamine hit. just a lil nicotine patch for online attention. seasonal depression is a bitch okay. i posted it here and to ig, bc ig is to late millennials what facebook is boomers. and people have all said some very nice things, but when you're posting a 10 year timeline, you're usually hoping for someone from your past to see it and go "woah! you're so different now"!

and whaddya know, this time it worked. one of my exes from when i was a teenager saw it. not one of the ones who turned out to be a lesbian, one of the ones who turned out to be a trans man. He just wanted to say hi - that he was so happy to see that i looked happy, and that i looked incredible, especially compared to the scruffy twink they had dated. (okay those are my words not his)

he and I didn’t have a great relationship at first - no one had a great relationship with me before i realized i was a trans woman obviously, but this was pretty young. I was really repressed and weird back then, and still very much without any social graces, and we were only like 16. they caught the full broadside of my emo fuckboy energy and got out fast once they saw that - i don’t blame them. I was crying in their arms about how much i hated my new body hair, and how i wanted to be able to wear dresses, and the next day i’d be completely emotionally unavailable and denying all of it. not exactly boyfriend material, not entirely boyfriend. They were very traumatized too in their own way, just realizing they were trans too, and engaging in a lot of ‘i want to be a gay man’ antics, fucking their way through the pain. He was frankly way too cool and sexually liberated to be wasting his time with that version of me. And it was very obvious to everyone who knew what that was 12-15 years ago that i was a closeted trans girl. we had a friend group that eventually fell apart, and we parted for the first time.

Later, in our late teens/20, we would end up fucking - i had started to accept and announce that my gender was complicated, and i was starting to be kinda faggy and loud about it, and not everyone hated that, and they had just started T and were boy horny. We split a bottle of wine (or was it two? It was probably two) and started watching an ashley tisdale movie. Looking back on it, how it went must definitely have been his plan, but i’ve always been blind about this stuff and was that night. It was definitely bad sex, but it was also fun sex - the first time I enjoyed myself,  and the pressure of having to be a guy wasn’t so overwhelming i didnt effectively black out. he’s one of the first people i ever talked to about feeling complicated about gender, and i think by then he had figured me out, and was just letting me get the rest of the way on my own. I still couldn’t top for him, i never rly could top for anyone, even before estrogen. but we still had fun, with our hands and with our mouths. and then after that, we'd go to art shows and poetry readings and hang out again occasionally, like we talked about doing when we were literal kids, putting on rocky horror in our front rooms.

but life takes you away from people, and he got into film school, and i somehow graduated my chemistry program and moved to the US. he moved to Germany for a while, although i hear he's back home. i got married, got separated, there was a global pandemic. we hadn't talked in years, although i had snooped on him once or twice. He’s a director now - he’s made some impressive arthouse films, all horror and gender and kitchy campy cerebral themes. He’s got a big tv writing credit on the way in irish tv. Idk - it felt rly good to impress him, to say hi, to remember. it's really cool to see other trans people thriving and living life, always. anyone who cleaves reality to themselves and fashions themselves into someone they can love is someone who impresses me. but it's different when it's someone you've known for almost half your life - someone you were a fucked up kid with, not sure if either of you would make it to 18. and to be smiling at each other, looking at 30, and wondering what's next. i'm really proud of the both of us actually. and i needed that today.

#trans #essay #diary

[twig-tea]

Grand Guignol

Wanted to write down my thoughts on this movie because it was AWESOME and I don't want to forget lol. Non-spoilery thoughts above the cut and spoilers below it.

First of all, the colouring of this film is gorgeous. Everything is in dull greys and navy blues and cream, except for the red, and the red is throughout. There's red roses, red lighting, red ties, red viscera, and so, so, so much blood. It makes for a really stunning watch, to see this heightened red spurt and colour the white clothing of the protagonists, and on their faces.

The cinematography is also a lot of fun. So many dirty shots, where the creepy decorations of this school sit in the foreground and the characters having a conversation are left blurred in the background. Quick, hard cuts, so it's not clear whether something was real or not.

And I love the tension being around what is real vs what is fake rather than jump scares. The way cinema and pranks and voyeurism is woven into this plot to make everything more confusing is so well done; it puts us in the same situation as the characters stuck in this school with no clear sense of what's happening or why.

Most of all this was just fun. It was a wild ride where gross, gory, discomforting, messy, and generally weird shit happened constantly lol and I really, really enjoyed the experience.

Cutting here because I couldn't help but spoil from here on out.

I also really love the subtext of the show re: queer as monstrous. There is a suggestion that at least two of these characters were sent to this school abandoned by their families in order to be sacrificed because they are gay, or queer in some sense. The other characters have stories about doing physical harm to those around them, but at the least for Kenta, it's implied that whatever is going on with him and dressing femme--i won't assume--is what got him sent here (this is early in the film so I'm not counting it as a spoiler).

I had to laugh at the excessive lube; Japan's lube game is always incredible. We never get a normal amount of lube in a Japanese BL, and I live for it.

Also really enjoyed the cannibalism subtext! Cannibalism is always such an interesting theme in horror because it's such a taboo. This felt very Rocky Horror-like with the constant viscera shots and the open questions on characters' faces about where it came from.

The message in this film was so fascinating. Normally we get the trope of 'you have to defeat yourself ' as a hero's journey to get past self-doubt in order to win. In this case, Itsuki tells us he was forced to participate in...it's not entirely clear, bullying and mutilation at the least. He seems traumatized by the experience, and it's not clear how much damage he did on his own. But by the end of the film, after the teacher gave him the gun and told him to defeat himself, he manages to move through whatever was holding him back, and he fully embraces doing violence to others. He kisses Teshio, when he was surprised by/recoils from the kiss from Kenta. He laughs, glories in, is freed by the way he mutilated Teshio's corpse, and flashes back to his memory of when he was "forced" to hurt his classmate in his old school, but this time he's similarly elated. He had some initial reaction to seeing Kenta in a dress and wig--Shinji wondered if he wanted to wear it himself--and after the cult dresses him in heels, a dress, and wig, he does not remove them even after he's free and limping in the heels to drag along that sledgehammer. In this case, the hero's journey is one to freedom from moral constraints, allowing in the monstrous--both murderous and queer--parts of Itsuki to overcome any fear or self-hate or physical limitations, and to be victorious. And then we get the final scene, with the uncertainty as to whether the entire film has been a play, whether the play is in Itsuki's mind, or whether it's a metaphor for the audience to represent what happens. I think the uncertainty is the point. The entire film has been messing with our ability to tell what's real and what's fake, and maybe in the end it doesn't matter. Itsuki is dead; whether metaphorically because he's mentally snapped, or literally because he's killed himself, or because the whole thing was a metaphor and he's embraced his weirdness and joined this weird club and found acceptance in this group that puts on horror plays...the Itsuki who was traumatized and terrified of himself is gone by the end of the film, he's defeated the enemy within. I loved that.

And there's something in this film about how it gets us to be interested in this weird friend group before it starts killing them off for the sake of... entertainment, a ritual, to free their parents of the embarrassment, it's not entirely clear which. But there's something implicit in the morality here that these characters are humanized before they're demonized, and that we are set up to see the ritual as cruel and the level of violence as undeserved. This part reminded me of Gang of Cherry; these kids are fucked up, and cruel, and weird, but don't deserve the even more fucked up and cruel situation they're in, which in turn makes them even more fucked up and cruel, until it's a twisted version of enlightenment, when all you are is cruel and fucked up, and delighting in the purity of the emotion.

Anyway that's way too much navel-gazing for what is essentially 1.5 hours of intentionally bad blood-spraying camp and actors who didn't kiss in their BLs kissing in this. Big fan.

If you want realism, sexiness (there is a sex scene but it is not what I would call sexy; it's intentionally discomforting/edged with tension), romance, or a happy ending in the traditional sense this is not for you. If you like campy horror, strategic cinematography, gratuitous gore, gratuitous tongues, being discomforted, psychological horror, and metaphors on metaphors, I think you'll enjoy.

#grand guignol #bl meta #i thought about this way too much #typed so i can stop thinking it #happy halloween everyone #gore #tw: gore #cw: gore

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

What I'm Watching: April 2024

Back at it again with Rocky Horror Picture Show, A Knight's Tale, The Exorcist, Doom Patrol, Hard Candy, and Dead Boy Detectives. I did a lot of regular writing this month and it used up words that would have gone into this, so bear with me.

Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

A newly-engaged couple have a breakdown in an isolated area and must seek shelter at the bizarre residence of Dr. Frank-n-Furter.

I think I was still riding the very distinct high of Repo! when I decided to throw this on, and I think they'd make a good double feature. Shockingly, this was only my second all-the-way-through watch, and I can't tell you why that is, because I love this movie. I'm familiar with the discourse, but I'm in the camp of "context is everything" and back in the day? This was groundbreaking. Even now, the general celebration of embracing what gives you joy no matter what anyone else has to say about it is nothing to scoff at. And yeah, I cried at the ending. Do something about it. I am, however, ashamed to say that I did not do the time warp this time around...but I sang along, so that counts.

A Knight's Tale (2001)

After his master dies, a peasant squire, fueled by his desire for food and glory, creates a new identity for himself as a knight.

Kind of at a loss for this one, ngl. This was a combined favorite between me and my brother when we were younger, and we did in fact run through two VHS copies over the years (which reminds me that I still need to get my hands on a DVD). Not only does it hold up, but I think it's even better coming back to it after so long. The nostalgia still hits, and age/experience makes some elements hit harder. But god DAYUM, did it make me bawl. Found family, underdogs beating the odds, and Heath fucking Ledger. I'm still mourning that man, and I will until the day I die. If you've gotten used to me yelling about Mike Flanagan ensembles, then apply any one of those tirades here, because the supporting cast is Excellent™. This is the movie that introduced me to Alan Tudyk, Mark Addy, and James Purefoy, who have yet to disappoint me, and it also kick-started my crush on Paul Bettany. What can I say? I'm a sucker for the snarky smooth talkers who are simultaneously the smartest little shits in the bunch and also cringefail losers. And the soundtrack? Speaks for itself. You can't separate the music from the movie, and to this day I'll hear songs used and still think of this movie before anything else. This was the first place I heard my favorite David Bowie song! (I unfortunately lost my train of thought for the rest of this section, but) If for some reason you haven't watched this yet, I highly recommend it. It's fun, hilarious, and occasionally heartwarming. It's medieval Rocky! What else is there to say?

The Exorcist (1973)

When a young girl is possessed by a mysterious entity, her mother seeks the help of two Catholic priests to save her life.

I'm also at a loss on this one. Everyone has a few classics they just can't get on board with, and this is one of mine. Maybe it's just that religious horror doesn't do it for me, or that some nitpicks I have with the pacing and editing take me right out of it. Don't know, don't really care. None of that, of course, is to say that I think this is a bad movie, which is the most annoying part. I want to like it more than I do! Believe me! But the stuff that I take issue with kinda blow the whole thing for me. I already made a separate complaint post, so I'll focus on everything else here. Linda Blair and Ellen Burstyn carry this thing on their permanently injured backs (look up the production of this movie if you want to have a bad time) and there's no contesting that. Yeah, sure, the whole question of faith plot is no doubt compelling, it's moving as shit when good triumphs over evil, blah blah don't really care. The strongest aspect of the movie for me is the relationship between the MacNeils. You can't spend so much time establishing how close they are and how much they love (and like!) each other and expect me not to latch onto them. The entire point of that time spent is to make it hit that much harder when Chris breaks down in desperation to help her daughter. Tell me you don't feel something when she's sobbing and begging Father Karras to do something for Regan. Juxtapose that with how detached Karras is from his own mother and his guilt that he wasn't there for her when she needed someone, just for funsies.

Doom Patrol (2019-2023)

The adventures of an idealistic mad scientist and his field team of superpowered outcasts.

Ok. OK. You've been seeing my meltdowns ever since I started this, but that doesn't even scratch the surface of how weird/fun/cathartic this show is. I knew I loved it as soon as I saw certain casting announcements back in 2018 without knowing literally ANYTHING else about it. I'm just getting into season two, and I've already cried so much over these broken, chaotic, disasterpiece losers. Again, not many words for the roundup, but expect more meltdowns.

Hard Candy (2005)

Hayley's a smart, charming teenage girl. Jeff's a handsome, smooth fashion photographer. An Internet chat, a coffee shop meet-up, an impromptu fashion shoot back at Jeff's place. Jeff thinks it's his lucky night. He's in for a surprise.

Impossible--IMPOSSIBLE--to overstate how much this movie means to me. Discovering it when I was getting serious about writing changed the way I write. Learning about production changed the way I watch movies. And finding this story of all stories, exactly when I needed it, probably did more to keep me in one piece than we have time to discuss here. THANK. GOD. It still works. This one is right up there with Perfect Blue in that it skeeved me out so bad the first time I saw it that I had no intention of going back to it ever again, but the longer it sat with me, the harder it was to shake it off. The older I get, the harder it is to sit through, and I think that works 100% in its favor. I'm not about to make this standard practice, but here's the trailer, included because it's still my favorite that I've ever seen:

Leaving aside the story for awhile, the whole thing is top notch. Barring maybe fifteen minutes, the entire movie is one location and two characters. Naturally, things have to stay interesting somehow, and the script alone kicks ass. There is maybe one scene that could be cut, but that's it. Everything else builds off of everything that came before. The cinematography stays dynamic, with gorgeous wide shots and intimate close ups, smooth and sweeping movement during quiet moments and frenetic handheld action when shit goes down. The color palette of the set and the editing is harsh and atmospheric. The sound design is *chef kiss* crisp. And the performances pull all of that together. If the premise of 30-something guy and 14-year-old girl meeting online and then in person at his place isn't icky enough, then seeing how Jeff and Hayley interact with each other will do it. Patrick Wilson sells you on the charming groomer, and his casual delivery of some of these lines are, in context, fucking horrifying. Contrast that with Elliot Page, equally charming in the opposite direction, trying so hard to be mature and impressive. Each one knows they shouldn't be meeting the way they are and acknowledge how inappropriate the whole situation is, and with the first line of dialogue you get hit with this sense of dread over what is going to happen to this kid. And then the first twist happens. It's an interesting power dynamic, each trying to get one over on the other and overlaid with this commentary on predators in online spaces, how abuse victims are often dismissed and persecuted, and how the perpetrators of some of the most vile crimes you can think of never have to answer for what they do. It is baked into nearly every scene, and it could read very easily as soapboxy or heavy handed, but Page delivers it with rage and disgust, and paired with Hayley's moments of distress and vulnerability, it paints a very visceral picture that is so. Fucking. Cathartic. If I have to boil this one down to a single statement, it's "how you wish Lolita had gone."

Dead Boy Detectives (2024-)

Charles Rowland and Edwin Paine decided not to enter the afterlife to stay on Earth and investigate crimes that involve supernatural stuff.

WATCH THIS SHOW. FINISH THE WHOLE THING. I WANT A SECOND SEASON.

#watch a thon 2024 #rocky horror picture show #a knights tale #the exorcist #doom patrol #hard candy #dead boy detectives #Youtube

[widowshill]

How do you think Dark Shadows would differ if made today? Would it still be the cult classic or is that kind of writing lost to us?

with the disclaimers that I don't think you can set out to make a cult classic, and also I only know as much about the entertainment industry as the next person, and also I don't really think the writing in Dark Shadows is that good, I do think it's an interesting question! I'll do my best.

To start: for me, the lion's share of the show's enduring appeal is in its earnestness, and part of that is the palpable shoestring budget. things like flubbed lines, camera man and mic shadows in the shot, and other genuine mistakes are part of what you watch the show for, they do not detract but add to the experience. this contributes a similar sense of watching live theatre (paired with most of the core cast being new york theatrically trained and bringing that acting style with them) because you know you're seeing something usually done in one take, where the mistakes bleed through, where who the actors are as people is alongside them on the stage. they flub, and recover, and this is part of the story: so too do the Collinses make vast mistakes, and go on. it is an imperfect world riddled with faults.

This is not something you're going to get in the current media landscape from one of the big networks like ABC; I find it almost impossible to imagine a daytime show being produced with the kind of natural errors Dark Shadows contains. To capture that same kind of poor theatre troup earnestness you would have better success as either a) actual serial theatre, b) a webseries / tiktok series / etc, c) a low-budget independent or college tv station, or d) a miniseries, possibly. If a major network took it on and purposefully put those mistakes in, it would not feel the same. I'm a bit bored of the constant insincerity/irony in a lot of 2020's media, and I think it would rapidly veer into that genre of work.

As far as being a daytime serial, specifically, I don't think the current media environment is exactly right: part of the reason they aired a gothic horror soap opera to begin with is it was part of the broader cultural conversation, next to television like Bewitched, The Addams Family, I Dream of Jeanie, The Munsters, The Twilight Zone, etc. American entertainment in the late 60's had a love affair with the occult (with witches, monsters, ghosts, the works) and this permeated broad aspects of arts and culture: The Haunted Mansion opened at Disneyland in 1969, Monster Mash was number 1 on the Billboard chart in 1962 (and #91 in '70, and #10 in '73). Pair that with prominent artists like John Zacherle's discography, Vincent Price's film credits, 70's gothic horror comedies like The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Phantom of the Paradise, and of course the wild popularity of gothic romance paperbacks in the 60's and 70's. This isn't everything, of course, but just to broad-strokes the landscape.

It's not that we don't have supernatural media today — horror is one of the highest performing movie genres, and there are shows like Ghosts and WWDITS, and Watcher Entertainment — but it's not quite the same explosion of culture (in my opinion). Making a gothic romance-horror-vampire serial would be more at home in the 2010's among the love affair with Twilight, True Blood, The Originals, the dominance of horror game Youtube, the height of Supernatural, Crimson Peak, What We Do In the Shadows 2014, etc. One imagines this is why the 2012 film adaption came out when it did; the cultural moment was conducive, overall. Most nighttime network television today (and I am generalizing) is dominated by legal, medical, and police drama; current soap-operas (especially General Hospital) reflect that, and there are only three soaps getting aired, period. Nothing is impossible: but a soap in the Dark Shadows vein (ha) getting green-lit today seems unlikely, vastly unlikely with the ebb in vampire fervor.

What I will say that works better in today's production moment for a potential series revival (revision?) is we're starting to see an embrace of practical set building / prop making / etc that was lost to us for a little while, especially among the horror genre. For example: Blumhouse's FNAF utilizing the Jim Henson creature shop, the beautiful set work on Haunted Mansion 2023, the use of practical effects in Beetlejuice 2. This is something that to me feels integral, for making Dark Shadows. You may disagree! But I don't think the heavy dependence on CGI did 2012 any favors. The magic inherent in the show (curses, ghosts, whatever you want to call it) is supported by movie magic and the invisible (or sometimes visible) artisanal hands crafting the world for us.

Moreover, with Bridgerton, especially (but also Emma, Little Women, The Gilded Age, The Great, etc) there's been a bit of a renaissance of lush period pieces. The current fascination with historical romances (and anachronism!) lends itself very well to a dive into 1795 or 1897. My best guess is that if we produced a revival right now, there'd be a very heavy focus on one of the alternate time periods (probably 1795), and they would lean on anachronism (and sex) very heavily, and the present year would be a very very minor presence, if they bothered with it at all – and maybe they wouldn't!

As for the writing, specifically? There's nothing that extraordinary about Dark Shadows' writing, to me, what is extraordinary is the characters and the actors' management of them (and Lela's direction) and what they are able to do with the script (aside from a few standout moments of memorable lines). There are brilliant television writers out there who could write a lovely gothic adaption. Some of our priorities in terms of storytelling are different: one thing you would have to acknowledge that the original show rarely dealt with and never performed well on is race. However a lot of the dominant concerns in the cultural landscape do reflect the issues at the forefront of the themes in the writing: especially women's bodily autonomy (Barnabas' hypnotism and forcing Josette's identity onto the nearest brunette/the inherent violation of biting and enthrallment, the way his victims are 90% of the time poor women, or sex workers, or the criminalized and otherwise vulnerable); women's economic position (Liz running the house and business, Victoria and Maggie's subject to endless horrors for a wage, Carolyn free to kick getting married down the road because she's economically secure) and the rigid dominance of the hetero-nuclear family structure as it is entwined with economics in America, and its subversions; and, especially, the way that the American houses (architectural, economic, genealogical) are built on the exploitation of those beneath them, often demanding the physical sacrifice of bodies and blood.

If I had my choice — and this is not what I think is probable, what is probable is a lean into the literal vampires and witches and sex associated in a modern-day setting — a current version of Dark Shadows would lean heavily into those themes, and take the reflection of the literal monsters (Barnabas, Angelique, Quentin, Laura, etc.) on the metaphorical monsters (Elizabeth, Roger, Burke, David, etc.) seriously. Preferably I'd want it set in the 1960's-70's again, because, like Collinsport, we seem to repeat the same sins over and over again, currently we are engaged with and reversing much of the progress that was made by social movements of that era, so in some senses we are returned to that time, culturally. Preferably I would emphasize the mystery? the permeation between the boundary of human and monstrosity? that dominated the early supernatural arcs with Laura and the beginning of Barnabas; and emphasize the terror, especially the terror of violence contained within the charming, and genteel, and refined, and beautiful. Above all I would not begin any first episode of anything with Barnabas, who should be first and foremost a reflection on the family so ready to accept him as like kind.

cult classic? I don't know. I think there's an appetite for earnestness; for long-form storytelling; for the quotidian — to learn about characters as they eat breakfast and bicker, as well as fight monsters. and theatre-trained enunciation that you can hear. I would hope, with sufficient intimacy training, the kissing and sex scenes would be a little better and not make me so very miserable.

#➤ answered. ┊ Collinsport 4099. #➤ ooc. ┊ she’s nauseous，she’s hysterical，and she’s exhausted.

[ftmtftm]

Okay so this is relevant to this blog, I promise, but I'm actually really thinking about the Okamas/Newkamas from One Piece right now right?

And the thing that's really wonderful about the Newkama and Ivankov in Impel Down is the freedom of self expression they represent. I really do think that that was part of Oda's goal with their inclusion. Ivankov takes inspiration from Tim Curry's Dr. Frank-N-Furter from Rocky Horror aesthetically and as a doctor. Part of his self liberation and liberation of the Newkamas is motivated by a freedom of self expression. It's incredibly queer. Luffy sees this freedom and he admires it!! Because he's Luffy!! He loves people who are unapologetically themselves and Ivankov and the Newkamas are people living their dreams and seeking their own kind of freedom!!! It's so incredibly in line with One Pieces general themes and fits nicely into the story. I personally really loved it all when I watched Impel Down.

But then... Kamabakka Kingdom and Sanji's time there exists - particularly his time with Caroline and the other Okamas before Ivankov shows back up. I could go on a whole side tangent about how badly this fucked up Sanji's character writing as a whole but I'm gonna try to dial it in 💀 Basically Sanji gets sent to Kamabakka Island and the whole bit is "Woman-loving Sanji is disgusted by all the 'men in dresses' around him. They essentially try to force fem him and when he finally leaves seeing 'real women' for the first time again literally almost kills him bc he's so horny." Which... Is very antithetical to One Piece's core themes imo - at the very least with the way the Okamas try to force fem Sanji. It's a removal of his freedom. It's predatory queer stereotypes, particularly predatory transmisogynist stereotypes. It's all very mishandled and is my least favorite part of the entire series.

It makes sense within the themes of One Piece when you think about how it's very "There are good marines and bad marines, there are good pirates and bad pirates. Those who stifle the freedom of others are the bad guys and those who fight for the freedom of others are the good guys," hence there are good queers and bad queers, but it's unsuccessful because the fandom has never read it that way and has in many ways made parts of the fandom unsafe for trans/queer folks.

I've been seeing more and more folks talking about OP in trans spaces because of Koby's live action actor which is!!! Really wonderful!!! I think he's an amazing actor, he does a beautiful job as Koby, and also the live action is a good introduction to One Piece imo!!!! One Piece as a series also requires some nuance when it comes to its depictions of actual queer characters though and I want to make sure folks know it's got a lot of good and also a lot of bad. It's kind of up to you as the viewer where your limit is.

(Also do not follow this blog for more One Piece posts and also though if you wanna send me asks or anything about it Do Not Send Me Spoilers For Anything During/After Punk Hazard. I know about Yamato, but I'm not there yet so I don't feel equipped enough to get into all of that and I don't want spoilers. I'm on my first watch and I obviously know some spoilers bc it's impossible to avoid some- BUT- I'm doing my damnedest.)

#original post

[loganschwarzy]

🌈can you guess qho im going to say. ted its ted

ted... my favorite sleazeball

7/10 on account of me not thinking about him all that much. WHEN I DO THOUGH- fuck, he's so tragic. and also really fun to write dynamics with but never mind

my friend joked once that holloway/duke/ted should be a thing. that they'd fix him. but also charlotte/ted I love them

random headcanon... he really likes the rocky horror picture show. they're all sluts he's a slut he's literally every character in that movie /j

#thank you for the ask! #hermes answers asks #thomas don't look #ted spankoffski #pip 🫀

[r3musmoony]

Extended what might’ve been in my bio but ultimately ended up cutting it out because it was getting way too long (^з^)-☆

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Currently hosting a GoFundMe for my wheelchair due to lack of funds and pure cost of it. If you could donate even just $1 it would be so helpful

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Yes I smoke, yes I am also disabled, piss off if you think I can’t do both and get a better life

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

this is also now slowly becoming an emo blog. I will not apologise, I am slowly falling back into my early teen ways

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Keep staring I might do a trick! 凸^-^凸　

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

I refuse to cater to ableists, and yes that includes ableist disabled people. you are still being ableist even if you are disabled yourself

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

I write fanfic, my ao3 profile is Eddies_Steve

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Yes my real name is Remus, yes I named myself after Remus Lupin, I do not support JKR or anyone like her which is why I stole the name so that a faggot and tranny can ‘bring shame’ to JKR and her godawful inhumane views

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

I am in so many fandoms it’s hard to keep track but my main ones at the moment are:

Into the Spider-verse/Across the Spider-verse (I have a side-blog specifically dedicated to ATSV @hobi3brown )

9-1-1

9-1-1 Lone Star

Stranger Things (I do not support the actors or Netflix)

Criminal Minds

Supernatural

Rocky Horror Picture Show

The Marauders

DC (slowly being corrupted by a friend, still very new to DC)

MCU (mostly Tom Hollands Spider-Man but also slowly getting more involved with other stuff)

Shadow and Bone (TV show and books)

Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom (CK is unfinished atm)

Good Omens

Shameless

Jake and Johnnie

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

As mentioned in my bio, I have Tourette’s syndrome, no I do not have Coprolalia/Copropraxia however I do have echolalia/echopraxia, please do not try and give me tics because you will be blocked.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Don’t be afraid to call me out if I say something outdated/offensive, I am always open to learning more as a person and I will not take offence.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Bands that I enjoy in no particular order:

The Casualties

Anti-Flag

Black-flag

Metallica

Motley crue

The cure

Motörhead

Judas Priest

Mother Mother

Hozier

Ghost

Iron Maiden

Depeche Mode

She Wants Revenge

Sister of Mercy

Johnnie Guilbert

Jake Webber

The Front Bottoms (concert in April! Anyone else coming to The Gov in Adelaide on the day I’d love to meet you!)

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

This is almost certainly way too much information about me to be sharing on the internet but fuck it, life is short and we all end up dead anyway so might as well have fun while we’re here.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

A cane user, crutch user, and soon-to-be wheelchair user when I can afford it, stuff is insane to afford without insurance covering it sadly, esp in Australia where the NDIS doesn’t actually rly cover much anyway

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

very supportive of self-diagnosis as I am self-diagnosed with a few things (with months of research and peer-review)

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

I now have a second side blog (as of 14/7/2023) dedicated to sharks! @sharkb01

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

another side blog for Good Omens! @inneffablegays

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

now also with a side blog for my education of polytheistic norse paganism! @norsepagangay

#queer #intro post #dni list #disabled #cripple punk #cpunk #cripplepunk #punk #tourettes #verbal tics #vocal tics #f slur warning #f slur tw #tw f slur #t slur tw #cane user #disability #chronic pain #actually disabled #mobility aid #wheelchair user #physical disability #physically disabled #chronic illness #crutch user #moony talks #moony speaks #moony describes

[spookysweet-heart]

Steve Harrington with a Visually Impaired Partner

As a Visually Impaired person I thought this would be cute to write. This doesn’t represent every Blind or Visually Impaired person. I‘m just writing my own experience with my disability for these head-cannons.

Steve first sees you when you walk into Family Video with your cane almost bumping into one of the cardboard displays. The door was a little hard to open with just one hand so you stumbled in apologizing.

Steve immediately helps you out telling you it's completely fine. He sort of stumbles over his words when he gets closer to you cause he thinks you're very cute.

He clears his throat and asks if he can help you with anything. When you tell him you want to look over the Horror section he’s quick to point out where it is. It takes you a second to look around and thats when Steve takes your arm in his.

"Sorry about that I wasn't thinking, let me show you exactly where."

Nodding you look up at him with a soft smile thanking him.

Steve couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

Standing in front of the aisle you run your fingers over the movie titles while leaning in closer to read them.

Steve just stares at you for a moment before he speaks up.

"So, you like horror movies?"

"I do! One of the few genres I can watch without straining my eyes."

"You can still see?" He pauses instantly registering what he just asked. "I-I mean I-"

It makes you giggle hearing him panic a little over this. But you've been asked these questions before so it's nothing new.

"Yeah I still have some vision but it's low. So things can look blurry or in bright places I just see white with outlines of my surroundings. I cant see things in dim lighting either but I still manage ya know?"

After that day, you stopped by Family Video every Friday to rent a new movie till you got the courage to ask Steve over for dinner and a movie at your place.

Steve was clueless, he didn't get that it was a date till Robin explained to him that you like him too. It had been a while since he had a proper date so he wanted to impress you even more.

It's been a couple of months since that night and you both are going strong in your relationship.

Steve is VERY protective of you.

He happily drives you around town whenever you want when he’s not working.

You love hanging out at family video before he gets off work. Not just to see Steve but to also talk to Robin.

Steve is very happy that you and Robin get along so well.

The kids were also very accepting of a new friend in the group. It was a rocky start though since they just stared at your cane or Dustin would ask something that seemed too personal.

You reassured Steve it was okay and that Dustin was genuinely curious. You are happy to answer anything the kids threw at you.

You became another parental figure in the group. Especially to Max.

Whenever you tell Steve you'd rather stay in than go out because your eyes have been hurting lately he’s completely okay with canceling the previous plans you two had.

Stays over and makes sure you relax, he'll give you head massages and kisses to help you feel better.

Steve is also super supportive. He helps you study for upcoming exams, if a professor gives you a hard time he would stand up for you cause he knows you don’t like confrontation.

Steve is always up for guiding you when you’re out and about. if you forget your sunglasses he’d lend you his pair so you won’t get tired easily while being out in the sun all day.

There's a point in your relationship where you two argue.

Steve is just worried about you because you got injured in a fall after he said he'd help you.

He ends up babying you because he feels guilty about it and doesn't see that it's bothering you a bit.

You tell him to stop when you got irritated since it felt like you couldn't do anything anymore. With Steve doing everything and being overprotective. It made you feel like a burden.

It took a day to cool off honestly.

Steve was the first one to apologize realizing he should let you do things on your own again. You apologize for going off on him about it, you knew you shouldn't have yelled at him.

Overall, you two understand each other's concerns and work through them.

Steve loves everything about you. He knows life can get difficult sometimes but he’s always there to fall back on.

He tries his best to be the greatest boyfriend he can be.

One of his favorite things to do with you is cook or bake. It's fun plus he knows whatever you two make you'd get to enjoy when it's done.

Steve's love language is gift giving and quality time so he buys you things that either remind him of you, things you mention you need so he surprises you with them, or the rare expensive gifts on your birthday or anniversary cause he wants to spoil you with them when he gets the chance.

Always makes time for you after work or on his days off.

You love those moments when you're both curled up in bed or on the couch and its just the two of you. Steve laying on your chest while you close your eyes and run your fingers through his hair.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #visually impaired! reader #blind reader #stranger things #headcannons

[filthyslashertoad]

Stu Macher Fluff Oneshot

@veneaq

This took a lot of "procrastinating"

Matchups: CLOSED, if you send me on at this moment it will be deleted.

(Also "Little Lady" is just smth he says kinda like honey or beautiful.)

Before you even knew Stu, you had met Billy. You and Billy were close, but not enough to where he would tell you his secrets, specifically about the one having to do with Stu. Now, you and Stu weren't the closest, well until...You had met in English class because he tapped you on the shoulder, begging you to help him with one of his overdue assignments. You thought it would just be him asking you a few questions about the assignment and then he'd leave you alone...You were sorely mistaken.

Right after class ended he walked over to you, asking you if you'd be alright coming over to his house to help him with the assignment, it wasn't like you'd never been to his house before, you had actually gone to multiple parties at his house and once you even dropped by to give something to Billy.

You agree to his request, asking him what time you should arrive, but to your surprise, he offered to drive you instead.

"So! How's your day been." Stu stares at you, awaiting your response.

"My day has been good, what about you?" Stu smiles at you, a goofy grin on his face.

"My day was really good!" He says, looking back at the road. "Anyways, I was thinking, maybe do you wanna get some video tapes or some snacks before we go to my house?"

"I- sure?" You didn't know how to feel about his offer, it wasn't like you two were best friends or like you were about to hangout and watch a movie. So you just decided to go with it and before even 5 minutes passed, you had arrived at the store. Stu turns to you with a goofy expression on his face, winking at you.

"Ya ready, lil lady." Without even opening the car door he climbs over the door, jumping onto the sidewalk. When you walk inside with him he immediately grabs you and takes you to the candy section, asking you about what types of candies you like. After you picked out some candies, he dragged you to the chips area and after that he took you to the drink aisle. By the time you left the store, Stu had bought two giant bags of both drinks and snacks. (He does tend to overdo it sometimes)

The drive to his house after that was short and quiet, only music playing from a mixtape that he played on repeat constantly to and from school. The road to his house was rocky, making the car shake as Stu crept the car into the driveway.

"So, what do you think of my house! Ya like it!" He gets out of the car, grabbing the bags from the trunk before guiding you to the front door. As soon as he opened the door he guided you to the living room, he dropped the bags next to you and then went upstairs, when he came down he was holding his English book and a random historical book. Walking over to you, sitting down next to you on the couch. "I got the project started but I wasn't sure what to do next, can you help me?"

"Yeah, sure. Is this the book you picked to write about?" For a moment after you finished talking he didn't say anything and when you looked over at him, he was staring directly at you. After a few minutes he realized he was staring and began to feel embarrassed as he tried to find an answer to your question.

"Um...Yeah" Was followed up with "It was just a random book I found laying around and I figured I could use it."

"Oh ok, you should be able to just record the dates of each event in the book and write a few paragraphs on each part."

"Really? I already did that, I just assumed that there would be more to do on this assignment." "..., I know this is a strange offer but would you be interested in hanging out with me even though I don't need your help with the project, I've been wanting to watch a new horror movie with Billy but he's been busy."

"Ok!." Stu went to get the movie, leaving you to grab so snacks for the two of you to share.

#stu macher #stu macher smut #stu macher x reader #slashers #request #oneshot #fluff